#I mean I’m doing this right now but tumblr is it’s own beast I have like one person I know irl on here I think

[nerdsandbabyteeth]

Constantly trapped between I can’t wait to live away from my family and spend more time alone because I feel like my thoughts will have time to settle and I will lose my mind if I live alone because I am starting to lose a sense of self this week simply because two of my friends are away and I don’t speak to anyone much in school.

[thedeviltohisangel]

The Road To A Beautiful Nowhere: You're Lonely In This City

a/n: I cannot believe the first part of this hit so hard in so little time! Especially because I went way less traditional on it and just leeched prose all of the tumblr bot. Thank you all immensely for loving it the way you have. This iteration is a bit more fic-y and I've named the lady in his life we met the previous time around and not sure where they are going but I am here to play around with them if you all have any little ideas or requests. This beautiful man deserves all the words written about him and thank you babes for supporting me in my journey to do so!

She doesn’t know where she was supposed to tell her parents she was going. Her jeans and dirty Keds and suede jacket not really presenting an easy excuse. If she was going to the store with friends or headed to the library to study, she would be in a frilly dress and kitten heels. Her hair would be curled and wrapped in a bow. But she couldn’t wear a dress on the back of Benny’s bike. Didn’t want to go through the effort of doing her hair just for the wind to muss it up. 

They were going to hear his bike rumbling down the road. Certainly her father was going to stare at him out the window in the hope he would break. There was no use in trying to hide who she was spending the afternoon with. Maybe even the entire night if the beer at the picnic gave her enough courage. 

The house vibrated slightly to announce his arrival. The feeling spread like joy through her bones but the wisps of dread from downstairs were fighting to make their way up to her. Delilah adjusted the clip keeping half of her hair back before squaring her shoulders and take the steps to the front door as quickly as possible. 

“Where do you think you’re going?” her mother asked from where she was knitting in the corner. 

“Benny invited me out.” Delilah paused with her hand on the front doorknob. 

“You’ll be back by 10?” There went her plans to spend the night. 

“Yes.” The quicker she agreed, the less likely she would have to face her father. The quicker she agreed, the quicker she could be in the safe haven of Benny.

Her wrist flexed back and forth as it waited for the command to turn the knob and lead her out into the sunshine. She was begging for them to just say okay. To just say yes and let her go. Not drag this out any longer. It was embarrassing enough being around Benny with the incessant blush to her cheeks and white knuckle grip on him everywhere they went. Bad enough he was legally banned from the campus of Northwestern. Had to stand outside her favorite bookstore while she perused. So many facets of their life that fought against each other instead of working together. She hated that her family dynamic was just one more obstacle for them to overcome. 

“Not a minute later.” That was her father who had deigned to speak. His words were presented flat but she knew the cold and biting meaning that was resting right behind them. Ready to snap should she misbehave. 

“Yes. I promise.” 

“Then you may go.” Delilah opened the door before either of them could change their minds and cleared the front steps in one leap before she was across the pavement, her nose landing in the spot of his neck that smelled like motor oil and cigarettes and the essence of the Stop Light. 

“I missed you, Dumpling,” he murmured into her hair, stroking his hand down the back of her head before pressing a kiss to the top of her ear.

“I missed you, too. But I’m here now. I’m all yours until ten o’clock.” Benny groaned as he held her waist steady while she swung her leg over the back of his bike. 

“That’s not nearly enough time for all the things I had planned.” His leg kicked down hard to start the bike and her heart fluttered perfectly in tune with it. Like a lion’s roar. She would never get tired of watching him spur the mechanical beast to life. Spur her own heart to life right there inside her chest.

“I guess you’ll just have to see me again,” she teased as her cheek rested against his back and he began to steer them in the direction of where the club was meeting for the day. 

“Dumpling, some day you’re gonna see me so much you’ll be sick of me.” Delilah hummed her disagreement into his colors, her lips pressed to the skull as if it was the soft skin of his forehead instead. 

How could she ever be sick of this feeling? The feeling of his bike hurtling them towards the sun like Apollo’s arrow. The feeling of everything she had ever known disappearing into a speck on the horizon. The walls that she always felt caving in, breaking open in a sea of shattered memories and haunted dreams and gates she hadn’t known she’d built around herself. 

He squeezed her hand that was around his waist as if he could hear her thoughts. It was a quick pulse of his fingers but told her he knew. Told her that he didn’t need words in order to understand. Told her he would ride like this until they reached the edge of the earth if that is what would make her happy. 

Some mornings, she thought about asking him to do just that.

----

“Delilah, tell me again what you’re studying?” She smiled as Cal settled on the ground by her feet, the smoke of his cigarette curling around his fingers and drifting into her nose. 

“I’m studying to be a nurse, Cal,” she spoke politely. He nodded his head around the sip of beer he took.

“Yeah, yeah that’s right. Real fucking cool.” She hid her giggle behind her palm and leaned further into the solid man to her right. 

“How many times do you think I’ll tell him I’m going to be a nurse before the night is over?” She’d already had the conversation with him twice, this made three. Benny peered around her to look at the taller blonde. 

“At least three more.” He flicked the butt of his cigarette into the fire they were sitting around and pulled her hand out of the pocket of her jacket. “Let’s go for a walk.” 

“Okay.” She walked in the direction he was bringing her, the whistles of the group they were leaving only earning them a finger from Benny. “You know, right now it looks like you are leading me to a secluded corner of the woods to be my undoing.” 

“That’s exactly what I’m doing,” he threw over his shoulder. Delilah blushed and quickened her pace so they were side by side. 

“Is that your attempt at being romantic?” she teased. 

“What girl doesn’t want a boy to lead her somewhere quiet where she can fall apart without an audience?” 

“Benny, the way you are turning my joke about murder into a lovely sentiment is quite something.” He laughed and lifted his arm for her to twirl underneath. “I would have brought a dress to wear if I had known we’d be dancing.”

“I like those little things,” Benny muttered as he ducked under a branch. 

“I can’t really straddle a bike in them without being wholly improper.” 

“Maybe we could get you some chaps or something to wear underneath. Get you on my bike and in your little dress.” The thought alone made him twitch between his legs. 

“Have you been thinking about this, Mr. Cross? Fantasizing, even?” 

“I’ve been thinking about this even more.” He squeezed her hand impossibly tight as she stepped into the meadow and looked up at the night sky. They were far enough from the beating heart of Chicago to see more stars than she’d ever imagined even existed. They glittering across the ink black expanse and Delilah swore they were whispering a song in the wind. “You like it?”

“Benny, how…how did you find this place?”

“Every once in a while at these things, I just need a moment to myself. Found it while I was wandering around a couple of weeks back.” He had thought she would like it from the moment he had found it. Had agonized over when would be the right time to show it to her. Had maybe let a little bit of doubt creep in that made him sheepish in presenting it.

“Come sit with me. I want to look at them for a minute.” She smiled and giggled to herself as she walked a few paces into the meadow and sat down, her leg stretching in front of her. Delilah contentedly looked up at the sky as Benny sank down next to her, a fresh cigarette in between his lips. 

“Makes you stop and think for a minute, doesn’t it?” he breathed as they enjoyed the scent of the smoke mixing with the night air and the comfortable silence. 

“I think all the time about a life outside of Chicago. One where stars are out like this without having to look for it.” One where she wasn’t afraid to step inside her own home. One where she was allowed to be loud and make mistakes and love whoever she wished to without fear of the repercussions. One where Benny could be right alongside her on this wild ride. 

“That sounds nice,” he replied simply. Delilah tugged her knees against her chest. It was foolish to dream of a life like that with Benny. The Vandals meant too much to him. He would never leave the club. That much was always clear as day. 

“I have to finish school first, of course, but after that…” He bristled only slightly at her notion that there was a definitive timeline to her presence with him. That she would be handed a piece of paper one day and then be nothing more than a whisper in the wind. “We could go somewhere together, Benny.” Her words were so soft they were almost a whisper. Her cheek resting on the top of her knee as she turned to look at him. 

“I can’t leave the club.” There was no room to interpret his words any differently than how he meant them. There was black and there was white. No shades of gray. 

“Right. Yeah. Yeah, I know.” Delilah found her fingers more interesting than the stars as the answer settled on her shoulders. The sustainability of what was between them, approaching love rapidly but screeching like tires on the freeway at inopportune times, might be a question a less naive girl and boy would ask themselves. 

“Dumpling-”

“No, Benny, I’m not upset. You’re being honest. How could I be upset?” It was something she thought about often. If she should push harder to put a name to the feeling in her chest when she was around him. If she should figure out a way to exist in that space, trading a life away from her parents for a life with Benny. Delilah would never ask him to choose her or the club. Her or riding. Her or anything. She wanted to be his choice without having to ask him to make one. That was the only version of a relationship she would accept. Not after the one between her parents she was forced to be a witness of her entire life. 

“I should get you back home soon.” Benny didn’t like upsetting her. Didn’t like when the fire went out between her eyes. It was so rare he was the cause of it extinguishing but it ached in a way he couldn’t put into words when he did. He stood and offered her a hand, the other flicking his cigarette to the dirt before he twisted the bottom of his boot on top of it. “We can come back here another night. When we have more time.” She nodded as she brushed some dirt off of her pants. 

“When we have more time,” she echoed. He kissed her forehead and led her back in the direction they came. Delilah couldn’t help but think, the entire walk back, that it would’ve been nice to keep walking across that meadow. Take the risk to see what was waiting on the other side. Forward and forward until they blended into the darkness. Gone to a place where things were new. Scars were healed and the thread of fate started spinning over again. 

Delilah could picture her own string of yarn waiting on the other side of that meadow. Golden and strong and untouched by the horrors this life had wrought upon her. There was room for another. Another that smelled like gasoline and cigarettes and endless summer. Durable as the denim he wore every day. 

She just needed him to see it. 

[sataara]

Sibling Energy

"Ingo and Emmet talk after he explains where he was for the last few years"

Hello again! This is a small one shot that I wrote a long time ago and only now edited and cleaned it up so I could post it 😅

The bootleg merch mention comes from a convo that happened at @evtraininguniversity 's tumblr, here's a part of it but there was a lot more talked about at the time!!! Also go read Ev's stuff if you haven't already, she's great!!!

Either way, enjoy!!!

“Ok. Let me see if I got it. You still don’t know exactly how, but you were thrown in the past.”

“Correct.”

“Of another region entirely.”

“Right again.”

“Somehow you lost your memories in the way there.”

“Hm hm.”

“So you lived there, until a random kid brought Arceus to you and he gave you your memory back.”

“Yup.”

“And then, with your memory back, you asked to be sent back here after saying your goodbyes.”

“You are a very good listener, Emmet.”

“Shut the fuck up, this is the most bizarre thing you’ve ever told me and yet I have no better explanation. I could say that the old timey clothes you got in a museum or from reenactors, the destruction to your uniform from living in the wild for years, but how the fuck else would you get those extinct pokémon?”

“Guess you’ll have to believe me, then, asshole.”

“I didn’t say I didn’t want to, but you are talking about fucking Arceus, over here.”

“I guess that is fair, I had the same reaction before seeing the supposed creator with my own eyes.”

“Calling him “supposed” wouldn’t be heresy, then?”

“I fought him and won, I don’t care.”

“You fought him without me?!”

“I knew you would say that, so technically they owe me for the mess they put me through, I didn’t want to go to Hisui but apparently I had to, because technically that had already happened? Something about time paradoxes. Regardless, their influence made sure that no one connected my image in the history books with Subway Boss Ingo, so no one would alert you or try to get me back before I was supposed to return. I didn’t choose any of that, though, so after winning I got them to agree to fight you too, next time we played the Azure Flute in Spear Pillar.”

Emmet punched the air in excitement. He had the look he always did when going through strategies on his head, until a thought made him get back on track.

“Right, so, assuming you really did spend these last three years in ancient Sinnoh,” Ingo huffs in amusement at his brother persistent disbelief, “does that mean you know why they don’t have a rail system?”

That grabs his attention and suddenly he is furious.

“Professor Laventon kept making incredible remarks about trains and how helpful they are, I added my own agreement and yet! The construction corps were so prideful! They didn’t want to look into the system to see if they could adopt it as well! They kept saying that those “metal beasts” could not be safe!” His hands in constant movement, following his rage. “And now, the kid that helped me, told me that they have been starting construction in Jubilife City and that Sinnoh now regrets how long it took to adopt the rail system!”

“Oh, I did hear news of that a few years ago, I had bigger worries then.”

That gave Ingo’s rage pause.

“I’m sorry, Emmet, I wish-“

“Nope! Can’t change the past, it is what it is, do not go down those tracks.”

“Did your therapist tell you that?”

“More like he drilled it into my head.”

“I’m happy to hear it.”

“We can talk about me later. Don’t give me that look, I know I can’t avoid your older brother tendencies forever. But, that is why you want to go back there, then? You want to supervise the construction?”

“I don’t want to go back exactly, I want to give them our expertise on the subject, we might not have started the subway and train systems in Unova but we did expand on it. I also can not say I told you so to Kamado, so I want to do that to the closest descendent of his that I can find.”

“You are such a petty bitch sometimes.”

“Go fuck yourself, Emmet.”

Despite the jabs, that were all friendly at the end of the day, Ingo loved listening to his brother snickering laugh. Oh, how he missed his favorite problem while walking through the vast expanse of Hisui.

"Oh, and before I forget, I did get something in Hisui that reminded me of you." He leaned over the arm of the couch to reach the basket he had brought with him. "Emmet, I want you to meet Impostermet. I hope you two will play nicely."

Emmet left a bark of a laugh, he couldn't believe that, depite being stuck in the past, his brother was still able to find their bootleg merch.

"Impostergo is a part of a set now! I can not believe you, Ingo!"

"Since we're already on the subject, you didn't burn The Blanket, did you?"

"I think Crustle found it in a day he was very mad and it became rags, sadly, you can find my teeth around the house, I use it to clean."

"That's a terrifying sentence Emmet."

"You have no one to blame but yourself. I never told you to buy that fucking monstrosity in the first place."

"Oh, how terrible my brother is, I buy a gift of his likeness to bestow upon him and that's how he thanks me."

"If I wasn't so happy to have you back I would fucking kill you right now."

"As if you ever could, I'm the bigger twin after all."

"We're identical, you fuck!"

And that's how they ended up wrestling on the floor of their living room, Ingo having his brother in a headlock while Emmet kicked and refused to surrender. Eelektross glared at his trainer and his brother's antics, before giving a slight shock to the pile of squirming limbs, making them release each other with pained yelps.

"Eelektross is right, we have far more important things to do."

"Eelektross is always right! He is the best boy! We need to go to a police station and then do a looooot of paperwork to prove you're alive and to get you your job back."

"Maybe I should have stayed in Hisui."

"Oh no, you're not running away from the paperwork!"

"I think I can hear Sneasler calling me, Emmet, I have to go."

"Come back here, Ingo!"

"Well, who arrives first at the station is free from paperwork!"

"You're already at the door, that's not fair! Ingo! Ingo, stop!"

The twins should be thankful that their pokemon were as intelligent as they were, Chandelure stopped the siblings using psychic, while bringing them back to get their pokeballs and properly lock the door, before they actually teared down the streets, throwing quips at each other and laughing until they were red in the face. They tied at the end, as Emmet saw Ingo was about to win, and decided to tackle his brother inside the station, making them end up crossing the threshold at the same time. Ingo could only wheeze as his brother fell on top of him and crushed all of his precious organs, only moving when the depot agents came over, helping them stand up and properly welcoming back the siblings to their home, finally together once more.

[deripmaver]

What’s The Point Of Elaine?

There are three eras of Casca in Berserk so far: Golden Age, Elaine, and Revived Casca. I find that within the fandom, Elaine is written off as not particularly worth analysis, that she just represents a transition state between the real Cascas, pre-eclipse and now revived. 

I do in some ways understand this feeling - Miura has said that in developing the story of Berserk, he ultimately decided in keeping Casca alive only because he needed a way to keep Guts’ rage intact, and not let the sands of time dull his need for revenge. This comes from an interview with Miura from 2017, that he spared Casca because she makes sure Guts never forgets the Eclipse. If I may editorialize, though, I think there are narrative reasons to keep a character alive, but that doesn’t mean said character isn’t being independently developed and doesn’t have their own inner world, especially when Miura has said repeatedly he’s trying to write real people and not archetypes. If I may also be snarky for a moment, considering one of my first interactions on Berserk tumblr had someone arguing that Casca stans read too much into Miura’s quote on her recovery to the point where you can’t even really assume he intended to have her recover - perhaps it’s reading too much into this quote to extrapolate that “Casca remained alive to fuel Guts’ anger = Casca as a character is only a plot device for Guts and Miura had no intention of developing her outside of that.”

Another reason to overlook her as a character that I do understand: Elaine is completely voiceless. She literally does not speak except for baby-ish noises from the time after eclipse until chapter 355, practically 275 chapters. For all of that time, we are given no indicating of how Casca is processing the eclipse (or not processing) - and so in some ways Elaine is just a narrative place holder as Kentaro Miura found his footing with her recovery. 

My intention with this post is to show that it is possible to gain a bit of insight into Casca’s feelings and emotions as Elaine from some key moments, even though she is never given a voice. Much like (in my opinion lol but also I’m right) Beast of Darkness is just a facet of Guts’ mind and not a separate being, ditto Femto for Griffith, Elaine is Casca, and she’s being written as Casca, just a shallow and surface level version of her. 

Elaine has these few shining moments where Casca comes through, showing that deep inside her mind, Casca is there, a terrified little sprite shielded by this childish outer shell, hiding from the world. First, when she jumps down the cliff during Conviction Arc:

Next, when she kills the men who attempt to rape her during the Winter’s Journey. 

I won’t post any more panels from that chapter lol. It would be better if there was just... A look into her mind during those moments, just for an instant. What made the actual Casca come through in those moments? How did she feel, suddenly being back in her body, in a world infinitely more terrifying than the one before she regressed? What happened to make her go back in, in her safe little cocoon of Elaine? 

Another moment where Casca comes through just for a moment is, in my opinion, one of the most powerful in the series: 

Casca has run to Griffith on the Hill of Swords. It’s not clear why - perhaps she remembers their closeness before the eclipse, or perhaps she’s being drawn to the moonlight boy, her son, in his body. All of a sudden, the unstable rock wall cracks, sending boulders tumbling towards her, and Guts isn’t close enough to get to her in time...

But Griffith is.

He protects her from the falling rocks, and we get the page posted above. This is the first time Casca has seen Griffith since he raped her during the eclipse. She starts to shake and sweat with him holding her still, her noises becoming terrified. She reaches out to him with a trembling hand, her eyes filling with tears. Her brand lets out a burst of blood, and her trauma and terror overwhelms her, while Griffith stares down at her impassively. Casca is still in there, and being confronted by her rapist again, she is absolutely terrified. This, to me, says so much about Casca in this state. Again, if we only could have gotten a glimpse into her mind at the moment, even if it was through the jumbled confusion of Elaine. I think it would have added so much.

I kept waiting for this scene to happen again with Casca revived, but at this point it hasn’t happened. Even with Casca in Falconia it hasn’t happened. MAYBE ONE DAYYYYYY.

There’s a particular look Casca gets when she’s terrified and dissociated, and that remains constant from the Golden Age, to Elaine, to post-revival. 

I also especially like that second panel, when she first wakes up as Elaine because her first instinct when terrified is to attack and bite Guts. It feels like a very Casca thing to do, and in fact that’s more or less what happens on their first meeting in the Golden Age, just a tragic perversion of it. Also, her expression is so similar to the one she made when she was begging Judeau not to die.

I think it’s worth noting that the impacts of Elaine on Casca are ongoing, and unlike some of the discussion I’ve seen, I don’t think anything that’s happened to her as Elaine will be brushed aside. As Elaine, we’re first introduced to her because she is absolutely terrified of all men, even her companions. 

This is reflected in the corridor of dreams, in my view, with the very unsubtle penis monsters (which I won’t post an image of LOL) - the association of men with sexual violence and sexual assault. Her close companions as Elaine were majority women, and this remained true after her revival. By the time Guts and Casca were reunited in Conviction arc, she seemed to have lost some of her mistrust of men, and him in particular - but of course that didn’t last long.

There’s also this imagery of her in a coffin, which is again reflected in the corridor of dreams.

Finally, and most interestingly, in chapter 372 it was pointed out to me that it seems Casca remembers her ordeal at the Tower of Conviction, and being surrounded by Falconia’s soldiers reminds her of the mob trying to burn her at the stake. 

There’s a lot to say also about Casca and Guts’ relationship and how his assault of her as Elaine impacted it, but I think that’s been discussed elsewhere and better than what I could. My point in writing this is to show that Miura was writing Elaine as Casca, and that there are moments where Casca seems to come to the surface and break through the protective façade. I think it could have only helped to give us just a brief glimpse into her mind in those moments, and it’s a detriment that there was nothing. In looking at the panels of Elaine, I think we can get a sense of where Casca’s recovery might go.

Interestingly, most of the moments I’ve shown here happen from before Farnese and co. join the group, and as the later arcs drag on I feel like Elaine gets goofier and less serious of a character, kind of like chestnut puck. Still, I still hold out hope that with Casca revived, even if she is in Falconia, we’ll start to see her process what happened to her as Elaine - especially if she comes across Luca and the girls, as I’m sure she will. 

Must protecc

[missacidburn928]

Tasty Tuesday Sample Platter...

I weekly sample of what I have to offer. Be it a WIP or a completed fic, I'm here to give you a taste.

Well enough to wet your appetite at least...

Hors d'oeuvres for the week of August 19th 😈

Please Believe Me : August Walker x POC!Reader (with a dash of Andy Barber X POC!Reader)

Off To Never Never Land: Older!Eddie x POC!Reader

Eff Being Friends: Steve Rogers x POC!Goddess!Avenger!Reader “Ci”, ? x POC!Goddess!Avenger!Reader “Ci”, Ex!Thor x POC!Goddess!Avenger!Reader "Ci”, Ex!Loki x POC!Goddess!Avenger!Reader "Ci”

From The Jump: Dean Winchester x POC!Reader "Wildflower"

If You Let Me: Alpha!Jax Teller x Omega!POC!Reader "LuLu"

As all of my samples are 18+ material they can be fun under the cut. MDNI

Happy Feasting Heathens

“Take it off.”  

“Take what off?”  

“The dress. His stench is all over it and all I can see is him touching you out on that dance floor. Take it off sunshine before I cut it off you myself.”  

“Holy shit. You actually were jealous. Who would have thought.”  

He slips a knife out of his belt and takes a step towards me, twirling it around his fingers. “Now is not the time to push me baby girl.”  

“Okay, okay. Relax, Auggie. I’ll take it off.” I slowly begin to disrobe.   

A growl emanates from his chest when he realizes that I have absolutely nothing on underneath my dress. “Bed. Now. Face down. Ass up.”  

No longer feeling the urge to tempt the beast further, I do as requested. With a sway to my hips and flourish to my movements of course.  

He removes his own suit. Leaving him clad only in his boxer briefs, that can barely contain his tantalizing girth within.  

He runs a hand down my spine. Stopping as he reaches the fat of my ass. “I am going to spank this delectable ass 10 times. 5 for enjoying your seduction of Barber too much and 5 for being bare underneath your dress in public without my knowledge. You are to count every slap. Understood?”  

“Yes, Sir.”  

“Good girl. Now tell me what your safe word is.”  

“Holiday.”  

“Remember, I will never strike you in anger. If you feel it becomes too much, you must use your safe word and everything stops. Understood?”  

“Yes, Sir.”  

“Let’s begin..” He rears his hand back and sends it flying. Striking me right on the meat of my left ass cheek, dead center.  

“One.” I gasp out. 

Continue: ao3 tumblr

“Do you know how many times I have fantasized about being between these soft thighs and seeing just how wet you were for me.” He practically moans. “This pussy is fucking perfection baby girl. A piece of art that can never be replicated. I feast for the flesh as well as the tongue. A never ending ambrosia to which I may gorge myself upon.”

“Holy fuck Eds. I knew you were good with your words when it came to DMing and song writing. But that right there was some seat dampening swoon worthy material. You’re as charismatic as a cult leader. I would gladly kneel before your altar and follow you anywhere if you kept speaking to me like that.”

“Did you mean to say all of that out loud?”

“Not all of it but what the hell it’s true.”

“You are sober right now right?” He asks with sincerity in his eyes.

“Yes, Eddie. I may be horny as hell but I am of sound body and mind. You’re in the clear.”

“Good. I want you to remember every moment of this as it will be a story we tell our grandkids one day.”

“Speaking of forever already?”

“I’ve waited this long to have a chance to make you mine. I’m never letting you go. We already act like an old married couple without all the raunchy bits. Might as well make it official.”

“You gonna wax poetic all night or are you going to show me what I’ve been missing all these years?”

“Always such a fucking brat”

As I open my mouth, a fresh retort on my tongue, Eddie dips his head between my thighs and runs his tongue up my cunt from entrance to clit. Sucking my little pearl into his mouth and rendering me speechless. A whimper is all that escapes my throat.

He barely raises his head from my mound. Eyes closed as he not so subtly licks his lips. “Now I know your wound up real tight baby. So I’m going to go ahead and help you get that first O out of the way. Hold on to something. This is going to be quick.”

Continue: ao3 tumblr

Tony has decided that tonight’s game is Truth or Dare. It seems the man of iron is also enjoying watching the gods get under Steve’s skin.

You take every dare, and they get raunchier by the ask. You give Nat, who is sat next to Captain Cranky, a sultry little lap dance that ends in a heated kiss. Only to be broken up by Steve’s quiet growl.

On your next turn your dared to make Thor get a boner without touching him. You saunter behind the loveseat he is perched on. Leaning in so that you can whisper in his ear. You regale him with all the dirty things you love that he does to you. The way his lightning makes you sing like no other. All stated low enough for only the gods and the super soldiers to hear. Your mission is a success of course. Thor’s unable to hide the ‘hammer’ tenting his slacks as he pulls you over the back of the couch onto his lap and bites down on your throat making you giggle.  

The game continues with Clint having to admit that he most certainly has seen his teammates getting it on when he has been up in the vents. “Some things you can’t unsee unfortunately.” He shivers.

Sam, having confessed who he thinks has the best ass, turns to you. “Truth or Dare Ci?”

“Dare of course. Why change it up now.”

“I dare you to get Loki to genuinely smile.”

You look at him quizzically. “You think you’re so smart. Prepare to be knocked down a peg or three bird boy.”

Standing you walk over to Loki, who has been leaning against the wall, observing all night. With a cheeky smile you wave your fingers and cloak yourselves in darkness that's not only soundproof, but is also time spelled as well.

You lower to your knees and snap Loki’s pants out of existence. The visual of you before him is enough to turn his cock hard as steel in front of your very eyes. You waste no time attaching your lips to the foreskin covered tip. Teasing the sensitive flesh with your tongue before sinking down to the hilt. You pull out all the stops. Sucking his cock until he comes down your throat with a roar. Savoring every drop as he fills your belly.

Removing the spell, it seems to the room as if only 1 minute has passed. It does not go unnoticed that Loki is relaxed while he continues to lean against the wall. Grinning like a loon.

This is when Steve notices your slightly swollen lips and quiet panting. Having been on the receiving end of that look many a time, he seethes. Cracking the glass of whiskey in his hand.

You give your turn to Loki so that you may catch your breath. It’s no surprise to anyone that he chooses Steve. “Truth or Dare Captain?”

“Truth. I have nothing to hide.” He challenges the God of Mischief.

“Alright.” He glances at you quickly. Catching you subtly lick your lips, most likely still tasting of him, grinning to yourself. “When was the last time you got your cock properly serviced and with who?”

Everyone assumes the answer will be you when you were still together a couple weeks ago.

With a cocky grin and sip of his drink he answers as he stares you down. “Yesterday after training with Sharon. She caught me on my way to change in my room and said I looked tense and needed a release. I took her up on her offer. Plus she gives decent head.”

He must have thought that you were going to be upset that he let poor lovesick Sharon suck his dick instead of getting the best head of his life from you. You couldn’t care less actually.

Not when you were getting dicked down in your own post training bath with Thor. It really is a great way to help stretch out and relax your muscles.

“Good for you Steven. You always are so tense after a rough training session. I know I was. Thor helped sort me out though.” You sweetly state.

“Are you serious right now? You two were practically on the verge of killing each other in the training room.”

“Great foreplay. Don’t tell me you never partook in post battle coitus with her. She is ravenous after any kind of rough play.” Thor, the sweet himbo that he is, adds in.

“Fuck this. I’m going to bed.”

“Should I call Sharon to come lick your wounds?”

“Fuck you Ci”

“Sorry not tonight, Cap.”

Continue: ao3 tumblr

Dean has me propped on the trunk of my car as soon as he has his guitar secured inside. His broader frame sandwiched between my thighs as we makeout like the lovestruck teenagers we once were. Forgetting there is such a thing as air we need to breathe.

With reluctance I pull out of the kiss. Dean’s lips chasing mine and providing me a nip to the chin for the inconvenience. I have far naughtier things in mind for our impromptu reunion than just making out in a dark parking lot on my car.

“You gonna let me ride you properly this time pretty boy?”

This gets his attention. A smirkish grin adorning his handsome face.

“No promises. These wicked hips tend to do naughty naughty things that make my brain short circuit. I can't control what my instinctual hindbrain does.”

He squeezes said body part to emphasize his point.

“Best crawl into the back seat then. Unless you want to give the bar a show.”

He lifts me off the trunk with a growl and smacks my ass. Walking himself over to the passenger side, my keys still in hand, to unlock the door. Pushing the seat forward to gain access to the back seat.

“After you, Wildflower.”

I bend over to make my way into the back when feel Dean’s hands clamp around my hips.

“Actually Imma need ya to unbutton your fly and slide your jeans down to your calves for me sweetheart. Need to sear you bending over for me so sweetly into my brain.”

I’ve always had a weakness for when Dean got controlling like this. It does something to his voice. Turning it all gravelly and rough, like he can't contain how much he needs me.

So I do as I’m told and unbutton my fly. Lowering my ripped jeans to my knees. Exposing my soaked tiny lilac lace panties to the chill night air.

“Fuuuck. Look at that wet patch. This all for me baby girl?”

He runs his thumb down the damp gusset. Resting it on my clit with just the right amount of pressure to make me squirm. 

“Mmhmm.”

“Get in the back seat Wildflower. And keep that delectable ass up in the air for me.”

Continue: ao3 tumblr

“You and I have some things we need to work out. Are you up for it Little Moon?”

“Does this have something to do with you overhearing me singing?”

“That’s part of it.”

You sigh. “Okay. Give me your worst.”

He grabs the waistband of your shorts, snapping them against your skin. "First I need these off of you. We're gonna have this talk with you warming my cock so you understand just how serious I am." 

With a determined look and slick quickly dampening the crotch of your shorts, you stand up on shaky legs. With an initial push down over your ass, you shimmy them the rest of the way before taking a step out and kicking them off to the side.

His eyes devour your bare lower half, biting his lip as he runs a palm along the bulge in his jeans. “Mmm. Good girl. You really would do anything for me huh?” He hits you with his dazzling smile, the one that always has you weak in the knees. “Come here and unzip me, Omega. I want you to pull me out and sit on the evidence of what your scent does to me, darlin’.”

You can feel your slick beginning to slowly leak down onto your thighs, perfuming the air further with your scent. You squeeze them together before stepping forward and doing as your Alpha requested. You bend over at the hip, ghosting your fingers down his torso until you reach the tented denim, releasing his hard length to the light of day. With a quick squeeze to his base, you straddle his lap and slowly lower yourself down onto his thick cock, letting it fill you up inch by inch. 

He grabs your chin, forcing you to look at the possessiveness and lust swirling in his Cobalt blues. Drawing in a deep breath, your lids become heavy, you can’t help but lose yourself in how good his mouth watering scent mixes with your own sweet essence. As you reopen your eyes, he places a soft kiss on your lips, sliding his hand down to wrap around your throat. "Now be a good little Omega for me and pay attention to what I have to tell you."

You nod your agreement. Your tongue, incapable of forming words at the moment.

“I was next door at Op’s, shooting the shit in the kitchen. Downloading him on all this Tara business. When this music drifts in through the window that faces your backyard.” He pushes his thumb under your chin. “Imagine my surprise when Op tells me it’s probably just you playing around out back.”

You swallow against his fingers. “You heard me.”

“Oh yes, Little Moon. I heard every sweet and tortured word you sang.” He smirks at you. “At first I thought you were just singing to sing. Though the words did sound a bit like a confession. It wasn’t until you finished and Diamond got to chatting that I connected the dots. All those precious words were about me.”

"Yes." You whisper out.

"And here I was, getting called out by Op right before the universe comes and drops a neon sign pointed in your direction." He licks his parched lips. "I originally came over here to tease you about getting high and serenading the neighborhood.” He chuckles to himself. “After hearing you say it wasn’t worth the energy to wait around for me and then still called me out on it when I showed up. Well, darlin' I knew I had to rectify that."

"So that's what this little show of Dominance is all about then? Witnessing the power you as a whole have over me?” You give him a challenging look.

“Not at all.” Unbothered by your accusing tone, he caresses your neck, fingers dipping down until they ghost along your collarbone. “This is all to make it clear where I stand. I heard you loud and clear, Omega. No more dancing around it. I’m taking what’s rightfully mine.” He growls out.

Continue: ao3 tumblr

[spider-man-2o99]

ok i’m still On Break do not take this post as a sign that i’m like. Actively Tumblring again yet because i’m still not, 4 the most part, but i have had my ear to the ground for special interest things, of fuckign course, of course, bcuz i’m me, and i. just. i am .i’m so fucking sorry to all the new SM2099 comic fans who are only just now realizing just now how dire the straits are, here, LMAO. it has been this way for Years. earnestly and from the bottom of my heart i love spider-man 2099 so much and also nobody on the goddamn planet Cares About Him At All or can even fucking write him half-decently unless every single celestial bodie in the fucking milky way galaxy comes into perfect fucking syzygy, i think, i think, i think. why did u think we (me) had a psychotic episode after that fuckin movie dropped. fucksake. lord above. because it’s all always “ohhh being yourSELF and telling your OWN story your OWN way” until you Look A Certain Way and ARE A Certain Way and Have Symptoms That Look Frightening and Don’t Move Around Like ‘Normal’ People Should Move, fuckin’ freaky-ass creature beast-thing, and so on and so on and so on, Christ all-fuckin’-mighty. gets tiring. but. anywaygs.

it is far easier to be destructive, than constructive. so. ahem. sorry. refocusing. it seems quite simply that just yet another goddamn story missed the point that 90s future spider-man is a story about very plainly and simply loving each other as people. it’s a story about a severely depressed, miserable, cynical little man who finds new reasons to live in every kind person he meets, and there is an open earnesty to that, if nothing else, that no movie can take away 30 years later. anybody can decide to try and be a better person than the one they were yesterday, and that is goddamn important. to portray anything otherwise was an unfathomably cruel decision, on sony’s part, and as soon as we got trailer evidence that they were leaning into his more “intimidating” features back in ~dec. 2021, i.. pretty much Knew it was what they were gonna be doing with him. why wouldn’t they? i mean. who actually even cares about this obscure nobody, right? c-listers are the tried-and-true adaptational chameleons, anyways; they sure suckered in dumbasses like me, who still took blind hope in hook line and sinker, thinking he’d be important to the film, or at the very least portrayed sympathetically to his 30 years of established comic history as a character who is consciously aware that he is an adult survivor of fucking child abuse. but. c’est la fucking vie, i guess.

[chthonicgodling]

hey. I’m taking your hands. come with me. come watch fenixe insta-kill me with one perfect line. the type of moment that makes me put my phone completely down and walk in a circle around my living room. my entire tumblr is a shrine. see if you can take a wild guess what knocked the wind out of me completely

the context is! Loki cuddled with Maci and Tory admitted for once like a fucking grown up that he didn’t feel well (“what’s hurting you!????” “…emotionally.”) When they asked him how they could help him feel better, a question that genuinely baffled EeL, Tory took him out to the courtyard in a cute little quiet date moment, where they discussed the palace kids, the roses in front of them, and their pending baby, including the baby’s SITUATION THAT’S STILL A SECRET ON THIS BLOG but that’s not suuuuuper important right now. One thing led to another— to Loki’s worries about the baby’s safety as usual, to discussing right here the ways the mortals had referred to Jör in legend. AAAAND SCENE—

formatted for the main blog here cause I want this in the eyes of all of you and. idk I feel like it has to be fancier on here lmao. a ✨canon convo!!✨

Loki: “I suppose it couldn’t have made much of a difference to their terminology if they’d had… A serpent of such size and potential wouldn’t have settled their imaginations. Surely they’d only have seen a beast.

Certainly seeing him as a babe hadn’t helped anyone else, even in the eye of my own f—”

Loki: stops. swallows.

Tory: “You’re among beasts here, at least.”

Loki, faintly: “Right.”

Tory: “We keep Epi around. Nightmare incarnate.”

Loki: a distant nod

Tory, sighing: “And I won’t stand for people treating him poorly for what he is.”

Loki: “Right.”

Loki: the longest, quietest, faraway pause… setting his jaw, and,..,

Loki: “…When Sleipnir was taken from me, I…

I swore— swore. With every sinew and fiber of my being. That I would never let harm come again to any of my children. If I could bear to have any more after my first, that I would never again feel them wrenched from my arms.

I failed.

Once again— twice, three times, in one fell swoop. And after even then, my love and my rage weren’t enough to truly save…

I failed each of them, not once more but five times.”

a cold sneer— “I find your optimism inspiring. I’m glad you’ll be able to save this one. Do let me know what the secret is.”

Tory: “It’s family.”

Loki: falls silent

Tory: “The secret, it’s having your whole community ready to throw down and get feral if something threatens your kid.”

Loki: ,,quiet

and… blinking tears.

Tory: “I pulped the god of death and ate him.

Loki: wiping his eyes

Tory: “No one fucks with my kids.”

Loki: and the shakiest exhale

Tory: “No one fucks with my wife, no one fucks with my consorts.”

Loki…… who despite this all literaly can’t resist, mumbling: “Technically I did the death god pulping for you first, ‘twas my powers that exploded him into your portion sized bits.”

Tory: “Team effort.”

Loki: “I’ll let it slide, I understand. Best not to negate the gravitas of your actions of loyalties.

…Sorry, you were saying. Tch, your consorts, I suppose you consider me formally within the scope?”

Tory, patting the fUCKIN BABY HELLO: “I think you fit the bill.”

Loki: a small nod. and a pause and… he leans into Tory, quiet.

Tory: “It means you’re family.”

and Tory tucking his arm around him; Loki, swallowing thickly, lip wobbling overwhelmed—

hHMYGOD………

forget Loki how about me, I was a fucking puddle— I still AM (Loki nearly wrecking the moment cause he can’t NOT take credit for things fgkfkgkgk)

Instant KO though anyway gestures wildly to this post and this post. do you see. do you understand. it. ITs…. AHHH

[multi-fan-dom-madness]

Sorry, it took me a bit to get this request to you, and Tumblr is being Tumblr 😅.

Hello, love! For the first kiss ask:

How about Tal with an accidental first kiss ooooor taller gently grasping the shorter's chin. (The chin grasp kills me 😫).

Feel free to use one or both or switch it up! 🥰🥰

hiiii friend! I'm so sorry this took so long for me to get to; between realizing that my OC Tal is in fact aro/ace and does not feel like they'd fit the prompt, and just general life things, and also the muse being a fickle beast, things have been A Lot! but I'm finally happy with how this turned out, and I really enjoyed the chance to explore the softer side of another OC: Commander Creed! <3

Broken Rules

Summary: Creed decides the best path forward is to just be honest about his feelings.

Warnings: this is mostly just fluff but blog is still 18+; gn!reader

Word Count: 887

Creed has always been a man of action, of direct words, of clear intentions. He says what he means, and means what he says—even when everyone around him would rather waffle and oscillate and obfuscate. Even as a cadet, participating in the training simulations with the other young clones destined to become commanders, he earned a reputation for being rough, abrasive, blunt.

His Jedi commander calls him grumpy. He calls them naive. Without fail, they laugh with a mischievous smile—and that always gets you going, a tiny grin threatening to break over your face. 

As a nat-born handler assigned to his battalion, you’re one of very few personnel aboard the Messenger that Creed doesn’t fully understand how to act with. His Jedi colleagues at least make sense; they’re part of the war effort to minimize loss of life and to protect the Republic, same as he and his men are. His brothers, of course, he has no problem connecting with. Most of the other nat-born contractors stay out of his way, which is more than fine with him. 

But you? You baffle Creed, and the only thing more confusing to him is the way you make him feel. 

If he’s being blunt with himself, he knows it’s a crush. It’s the only thing these feelings can be—the anticipatory tightening in his chest when he hears your voice around the corner, the fluttering in his chest whenever you smile in his direction, the maddening urge to tilt your head up so you meet his gaze straight on. If he’s being honest, he knows that the way you act around him, shuffling your feet and glancing away from his gaze, probably means his feelings aren’t one-sided. But these are things the Kaminoans never trained the clones for, and instead of facing the situation head-on like he does everything else, Creed waffles. 

And he’s so karking tired of it. 

So he’s not entirely certain what he’s doing outside your personal quarters, but he’s knocking on the durasteel door before he can talk himself out of this. It’s late—at least, his body tells him it’s late; there’s no way to know for certain when they’re in hyperspace—but despite the hour, it’s only a moment before your door slides open. 

“C-Commander!” You immediately stand straighter, smoothing out your sleep clothes. “What can I help you with, sir?” 

Your name falls from his lips before he can process it. Your first name, not your title, or your last name, but a name that feels so unfamiliar and yet sounds so right coming from him. “I’m not here on business.” 

“Oh.” You blink at him. “Well, still. Is there something you needed?” 

“I—” Creed sighs, drawing a hand over his face. “May I come in? I’d like to speak with you.” 

He catches the momentary flare of panic that crosses your features, but you step aside regardless. The door slides shut behind him. Your quarters are sparsely furnished; it makes his heart feel funny, that you haven’t made this space your own yet, despite being attached to the 387th for months now. 

“No decorations?” he asks. 

“Um.” You sound taken aback. “It’s...against GAR regulations to—”

“Right,” he says, waving his hand. Maker, could he be any worse at this? “My ARCs would tell you regulations are in place to be broken.” 

“Are you...giving me permission to break the rules, Commander?”

“Creed.”

“What?” 

“Call me Creed,” he says, finally lifting his gaze to yours. “Please.” 

His eyes flicker down to your lips as they part in surprise. Stars, you really are a sight, and he wonders why he hasn’t taken the time to fully appreciate the view until now. Heart pounding in his chest, he wipes his palms on the fabric of his blacks. 

“The answer is ‘yes’,” he says. When your brow furrows in confusion, he continues, “About breaking regulations. Because I’m about to break several.” 

“What’s going on?” 

Idly scratching at his ear, a nervous habit he picked up as a cadet, Creed sighs. “I like you.” 

He winces internally at the brusque timbre of his words, but understanding dawns over your face like the sun’s first rays. Swallowing harshly, Creed forces himself to stop fidgeting.

“May as well throw out all the handbooks,” you say after a moment. “Can I break a few more?”

“Please.” 

You close the distance until you’re in his personal space. Peering up at him from beneath your eyelashes, you reach with tentative hands to brush your fingertips over the swell of his cheeks. Creed nearly leans into your touch. Instead, he does what he’s been wanting to for weeks, and he tucks one finger under your chin to tilt your head up as he leans down. 

Your lips are soft and warm against his own. He exhales a shaky breath as your hands slide around his neck, anchoring him to you; this is so far beyond uncharted territory that Creed can’t help but simply marvel at the rhythm you set. Mouths moving slow and in sync, you tilt his head, deepening the kiss. 

When you pull back, he finds you already gazing when he opens his eyes.

“Never woulda thought our big scary commander would break so many rules,” you say with a soft, teasing smile. 

Creed hums. “I won’t tell if you won’t.” 

“Deal.”

Ragu: @dystopicjumpsuit @clonemedickix @littlemissmanga @wolffegirlsunite @anxiouspineapple99 @wings-and-beskar @sinfulsalutations @523rdrebel @sunshinesdaydream @moonlightwarriorqueen @sev-on-kamino @starrylothcat @deejadabbles @starqueensthings @mandos-mind-trick @idontgetanysleep @eyeluvmusic21 @wizardofrozz @mythical-illustrator @sleepycreativewriter @bobaprint @dickarchivist @a-single-tulip @thorsterstrudle @droids-you-are-looking-for @goblininawig @cw80831 @mssbridgerton @lune-de-miel-au-paradis @9902sgirl @dreamie411 @jedi-hawkins

[nobodywritingao3]

Shameful Company [ch 1]

masterpost | next

The village Tommy grew up in was located in a beast's territory, a man eating serpent's. Isolated from the world, all he's ever known is loneliness. When he's forced outside the safety of the town walls he meets a stranger who claims to live beyond the village. They become fast friends despite the fact that the man is clearly hiding something - but can you really blame Tommy? He's never had a friend before.

CW for entire fic: - Wilbur eats people lol - swearing title taken from 'Shameful Company' by Rainbow Kitten Surprise inspired by the talented @beckyu and her story 'My Monster to Slay' (tumblr) (AO3)

word count: 4.7k 🐍 read it on AO3

Tommy takes a deep breath. “HEY ASSHOLE,” he calls out, “COME FUCK ME UP, CUNT!”

He inhales sharply, blood rushing in his ears. Something moves in his periphery and he spins to the left, trembling hands holding out the piece of shit sword the village had strapped him with.

Pounding feet behind him - he turns, expecting to be greeted by a gaping maw or axe to the brain, but once again there’s nothing. It takes him a moment to realize that he hadn’t heard footsteps, just his own racing heart.

He tightens his grip on the sword and yells out, “I’M NOT SCARED - ” only to break off, swallowing and blinking back tears. “I’m not scared of you,” he finishes in a whimper.

He breathes in, closing his eyes. He straightens his spine and places a hand over his diaphragm, intent on forcing his damn lungs to work.

Instead he just bursts into tears - man, fuck those breathing exercises, that shit doesn’t work -

“Hello?!” someone calls out suddenly. Tommy snaps his head up and swings the sword around wildly, still ugly crying. Vision blurry, he loses his balance immediately and goes down, falling onto what he desperately hopes isn’t shit.

He miserably stumbles to his feet, pathetic like a wet cat, only to catch his toes under a partially uncovered tree root. A wail starts in the back of his throat as the Earth grows closer and closer to his face and he braces for impact.

Hands catch around his waist. “Hey, come on now - I've got you, I've got you…”

He’s righted onto his feet, and he can make out a figure behind him, supporting his weight. “There you go kid, you’re doing fine…” A gentle hand comes and tugs at the hilt in Tommy’s weak grasp. He lets the stranger tug the sword away. A soft clatter lets him know that they’ve dropped it behind them.

A firm hand rests on his shoulder, and over a period of minutes, he slowly starts to come down from the adrenaline rush.

Head lowered, he shamefully scrubs at his blotchy face with the back of his sleeve. He steps away from the person behind him and he can hear them shifting out of his personal space. Good.

He faces them and his eyes dart up and down, quickly taking in the appearance of the stranger - a plainly dressed white man - before lowering to the ground again.

“My apologies sir,” he says as nonchalantly as possible, “were you sent here too?”

“Sent?” the man inquires, shifting his weight from foot to foot. “Sent by who?”

Tommy schools his face into a neutral expression. “The village…?” he responds, uncertainly. Bitterness climbs the back of his throat. “To ‘slay the snake,’” he clarifies lowly, a mocking lilt creeping into his tone.

The man stills, tensing slightly.

Shit. Tommy hadn’t considered that this guy might be a council worshiping kiss-ass.

“What do you mean?” he asks slowly.

Tommy unconsciously backs away. Carefully, as if the speed of his words could determine his fate, he says, “I meant no disrespect. I humbly apologize.”

The man tilts his head. “Sorry - what? Were you sent here to kill something?”

Tommy nods, avoiding eye contact. “The serpent of the forest.”

There’s a tense beat.

“You… intend to slay the serpent with that sword?” He incredulously motions behind him and Tommy winces in embarrassment.

“Hey man - I didn’t choose this. Obviously I’m fucked, you don’t have to rub it in.”

The man blinks and for a moment Tommy thinks he’ll finally snap. Instead he exasperatedly says, “Look kid, you keep talking like I have context for why you’re here, but I assure you I don’t. Start from the beginning and maybe I can help your sorry ass out.”

Tommy makes a face at him. “Fuck off dude, I don’t need your help - ” he turns away and marches off, “we’ll both be dead in a few hours anyway. And I don’t intend on spending the rest of my life arguing with - !”

The man catches him around the elbow. “Mate seriously, what the hell are you talking about?”

Tommy twists his arm out of the guy’s grasp with a scowl. He points a finger out past the man. “You see the gigantic ass wall out there?” He nods. “I’m from the village behind it. It’s a tiny little town and everyone there is a dipshit, but we can’t exactly leave ‘cause the motherfucker who set up shop in the first place did so in a basilisk's territory - we are in the basilisk's territory. Do you understand the words I am saying?”

The man tilts his head and furrows his brows in nothing more than mild confusion. “But… if it’s so dangerous out here, then why come out at all?”

“You think I want to be here?!” Tommy shouts, bursting into hysterics and breathing hard with wide eyes.

The man motions at his chest, signalling him to breathe before saying plainly, “Honestly, I really can’t think of another reason, no.”

Tommy presses the palms of his hands into his eyes. “For the past two decades the council has sent out volunteer champions to kill the serpent. A few years ago, I guess it finally sunk in - the thing’s unkillable, and we’re just feeding the local wildlife with our local idiots.”

The man cuts in with an almost guilty air, “Hey - you don’t know that, maybe they managed to get away?”

Tommy shoots him an unimpressed glance. “Uh huh,” he agrees sarcastically, “look, the point is: no one’s volunteering anymore. The head of council is this one pompous asshole - he’s calling it a ‘village tradition.’ A village tradition, can you believe that? - a village tradition where we sacrifice people to the monster in the woods fully knowing they’ll just - ”

“Easy now.” The man rubs his shoulder sympathetically. He clears his throat. “Out of curiosity, how many people sent in before you were volunteers?”

Tommy shrugs dispassionately. “All of them - I’m the first tribute,” he spits.

“Were - were they good people?”

Tommy gesticulates vaguely. “Look man, I don’t know and I don’t really care - only four people in my lifetime have volunteered at all, and from what I remember they were the kinda guys you wouldn’t let near a girl’s drink. How is that relevant, exactly - ?”

The man instantly shrugs and sways away. He’s definitely hiding something, but at the moment Tommy doesn't really give a shit, he just wants to stop wasting time.

Deflecting, the man responds, “If it makes you feel better, I doubt the monster’s gonna eat you - ”

Tommy bursts out in agitation, “And how would you know?! You’re just some guy who… who…” he trails off and glares at the ground, a small pit of worried confusion working itself into his stomach. “Dude, who the fuck are you?”

The stranger’s lips quirk up for a brief moment - possibly a trick of the light - and he says simply, “I live here.” He shrugs. “My name is Wilbur.”

Tommy stares at him, looking for any sign of a lie. He’s… he’s definitely telling the truth.

“How?”

“How what?”

“How are you alive right now?”

The man - Wilbur, apparent forest dwelling hermit - pauses a moment. Tommy can almost hear the gears turning in his head. “Hm. Uh, I’ve lived here for a while and - ”

Before he can stop himself, Tommy cuts in, “Did you see Jared die?”

“Was… was he the last volunteer?” Wilbur asks uneasily.

Tommy winces. “… Yeah. Don’t feel too bad about it though - he was a bit of a prick.” At Wilbur’s questioning glance, he continues awkwardly, “uh - he was a self proclaimed ‘clumsy guy,’ meaning he had a bad habit of accidentally bumping into people’s vital organs with sharp weapons.”

Wilbur grunts in acknowledgment, seemingly lost in thought. Finally he says, “Yeah, that does make me feel better about it, actually,” he meets Tommy’s eyes, searching for something. “It was a messy death,” he confesses.

“Oh.”

“Yeah.” There was a pause. “Are you particularly upset he died…?”

“Not… not really. I kinda assumed since he never came around again,” Tommy said in an attempted joking tone.  “And anyway, the world is probably a better place now that he’s gone, as fucked as it is to say.”

Wilbur nods, and tension seems to fall from his shoulders. He adds after a moment, “He stabbed the serpent a few times. Then it… ate him."

Tommy looks up in surprise. “Do you think it might have died?”

That shifty look crosses his face again. “Anything’s possible, I suppose,” he says slowly, “but either way, the fact that we’re talking right now is proof that you don’t have anything to fear from the creature.”

Tommy searches his posture and thinks over his words. It’s not dead; Wilbur knows it’s not dead, but he doesn’t want to divulge what happened to it. On the other hand, he was telling the truth in the last part: he believes that Tommy is safe. It’s still not great, but at this point things are already ten times better than two minutes ago when he thought he was snake food. Tommy mulls over his options.

Wilbur breaks him from his thoughts. “Would they let you back in if you never get eaten?”

Tommy nods vacantly. “I’m allowed to return to the village at seven AM tomorrow, but I’m not sure what I’ll do in the meantime and - well, no offense man, but I don’t really trust that the serpent isn’t still around.”

“Can I offer you shelter? I have clothes and other human amenities you could use while you wait out the hours.” He freezes as he realizes what he said, but Tommy is still lost in thought and doesn’t pick up on his misstep.

He accepts. “That would be great, thank you for helping me out.”

Wilbur gives him a wide, dimpled smile. “Of course. I appreciate the company.”

Tommy smiles in return. “Yeah… I think you’re the nicest person I’ve ever met,” he tries to laugh it off but a hint of vulnerability slides into his voice - the years get lonely living ostracized in a claustrophobic, walled up town with a fucking cult in charge. He clears his throat. “I’m Tommy, by the way.”

“Tommy,” Wilbur says, smile somehow growing wider, “it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

~

Wilbur is a weird guy. Tommy’s tried to ask after his hobbies, his family, how he ended up here and why he chose to stay if one of the first things he ever saw was some dude getting devoured by a giant snake - the usual icebreaker things, but he just clams up. Nonetheless, Tommy finds he trusts him anyway. He’s open and funny, and truthfully, Wilbur’s complete inability to tell a lie has been reassuring.

He’s obviously a criminal of some sort. It makes Tommy a little wary, but mostly he doesn't mind the possibility. His entire life he’s been confined to the same couple kilometers with the same couple hundred assholes, and Wilbur is the first person he’s ever met who looks at him like he’s not worthless.

His home is strange as well. When he’d led him to a little opening at the base of a stone cliff, Tommy had thought he’d been fucking around. But past the entrance was a furnished cave, with a running stream and flowery vines dangling from the high ceiling. A small wooden door stands at the rear end of the cave, innocuous. He probably wouldn’t have noticed it at all if not for Wilbur sharply telling him to stay out of there. Maybe it’s a murder den. Tommy finds it hard to care.

He’s snapped from his thoughts as Wilbur brings over two steaming mugs of tea. Tommy gratefully takes his, accepting the offered sugar as well.

He takes a sip, ignoring the slight burn in his mouth. “So why do you live in a rock?”

Wilbur bursts into laughter. “Forward innit? I don’t know, I like my privacy, I like my safety. Hard to be found in here. By wildlife or people.”

He nods contemplatively. “You wanna be alone?”

Wilbur stirs his tea idly. “I don’t think anyone wants to live in isolation. But sometimes it’s what’s best for everyone.”

“That’s bullshit,” Tommy says, frowning. “I don’t like my village at all - if I had to choose between staying there or living alone the rest of my life, I can’t say I’d stick around.”

He hums. “But what if you had an option to live with other people and be happy?”

Tommy snorts derisively. “Then I’d choose it - wouldn’t you? But you and I aren’t exactly in positions to make choices like that.”

“No,” Wilbur agrees, “no, I suppose we’re not.”

They settle into a comfortable silence, sipping tea and enjoying the other’s company.

After a moment, Wilbur hesitantly asks, “You really don’t like the village, huh?”

Tommy gives Wilbur a pointed glance.

He chuckles. “I see your point.” He’s quiet a moment. And then he says, “But honestly, if it came between being alone or living with someone - even if they hated me, mistreated me…" he sinks into thought, staring sightlessly into the opposing cave wall, "even if they were terrified of me - I don't think I can stand being alone much longer."

Tommy becomes uncomfortably aware of how far he sits from the entrance. In an attempt to lighten the mood, he jokes, “But if they hated you so much, wouldn’t they just leave?”

Wilbur doesn’t laugh, that faraway look still in his eyes. “I think I’d make them stay.”

They fall back into silence. This time with tension.

Wilbur sighs and offers Tommy a smile. “More tea? Or some food… dinner would be nice.”

Tommy smiles gratefully. “Yes, thank you.”

Wilbur nods, in a cheerful mood again, and takes Tommy’s mug back to prepare more tea. “I think I’m low on meat - I’ll head out for a while and be back in a bit, alright? I think it’ll be around an hour until we’ll eat, sorry about that.”

Tommy shrugs. “I’m just glad I ran into you and not the serpent,” he quips.

Wilbur laughs uncomfortably. “Mm… yeah.” He hurries away with their mugs.

Tommy frowns. Strange guy. He shrugs it off. Isolation does funny things to people.

~

“Tommy?” A hand comes and shakes gently at his shoulder. “Tommy, it’s six.”

He blinks blearily. Wilbur hovers above him.

“Ugh, holy fuck, my mouth is so dry,” Tommy grumbles, sitting up. Wilbur presses a cup of water into his hands.

“Did you sleep alright?”

“Definitely not enough, but that’s fine… I’ll sleep at the village.” He and Wilbur had stayed up talking, only stopping when Tommy was physically unable to keep his eyes open.

Wilbur grins at him guiltily. “Yeah, that’s my bad, I didn’t realize how late it was getting.”

Tommy offers him a lopsided smile. “If I had wanted to sleep I would have just passed out then and there. You would have had to drag my limp body to a bed.”

He laughs. “Noted.”

Wilbur offers a hand out and Tommy takes it. He pulls him up with surprising ease and Tommy almost stumbles.

“We have enough time to eat breakfast, and then I’ll walk you to the clearing.” Something must catch in Wilbur’s throat because he clears it, and continues in a slightly strained voice, “Let’s get you home, mate.”

“Yeah,” Tommy agrees. He tries not to let his disappointment show. They need to part ways: Wilbur has his weird crime cave and Tommy has his weird cult village.

Wilbur collects the same two mugs they used last night, cleaned since then with fresh tea leaves, and begins to pour boiling water from a pot.

They eat breakfast in relative silence, a lack of sleep preventing Tommy from being much for conversation. They finish and Tommy insists on helping Wilbur clean their plates, saying it’ll go quicker with two pairs of hands. They spend more time joking around then really cleaning. They’re dawdling, and Tommy knows it.

At seven fifteen they’re finally ready to go.

“How long will the walk be?” Tommy asks as casually as he can.

Wilbur’s smile seems to fade. “A little over thirty minutes.”

“Right, right,” Tommy acknowledges, slowly lacing up his shoes.

They walk together to the entrance of the cave and Wilbur helps Tommy clamber out and into the shining sun.

“Do you have everything?”

“Yeah.”

Wilbur hesitates. “Are you ready to go?”

Tommy smiles mournfully. “Of course,” he lies. “Thank you for helping me out.”

He grins. “No problem. If you ever find yourself stuck outside the walls again, all you need to do is hyperventilate really loudly and I’ll - ”

“Okay, okay, I get it, you can shut the fuck up about it now,” Tommy cuts in, much to the amusement of Wilbur.

“But seriously,” he turns to Tommy with unexpected sobriety, “if you’re ever out here again come back here. The serpent won’t hurt you, but there’s still plenty of nasty shit in this forest.”

Tommy nods.

They start to trek back.

“Wilbur - ” Tommy cuts himself off, but he turns to face him with a questioning look anyway. “How did you survive out here for so long? How did you survive when Jared was being eaten?”

Wilbur shakes his head and makes to turn away. “It’s a complicated thing.”

“Please?” Tommy asks.

Maybe there’s something in his voice, some unknown quality that gives Wilbur pause. He refocuses on Tommy with an appraising look. He begins placatingly, “Tommy, listen - ”

“Oh come on - how bad would it be to tell me the truth?”

Wilbur breaks eye contact and lets out a nervous huff of laughter.

Tommy whines in exasperation. “Then tell me a version of the truth?”

Wilbur sighs, resigned, and Tommy perks up. “A version of the truth? - Alright. Fine, uh - ” He visibly contemplates for a moment before looking back at Tommy. Carefully, he says, “Everything in these woods eats humans. I survived because…” he trails off, thinking over his words.

Tommy rolls his eyes. “’Cause you eat humans too,” he supplies sarcastically.

Wilbur bursts into laughter. “Oh yeah, no, this was a mistake,” he says through choked laughs. “I’m not telling you anything, sorry mate.”

“Wilbur,” Tommy groans. “Please? Sue a guy for being curious - y’know, the more you hide the truth from me the more I’m gonna ask!”

Wilbur’s laughter begins to trail off as a somber look crosses his face. “Yeah. I suppose that’s true.” He’s quiet a second. “Tommy… Can I - can I tell you when you’re older?”

Tommy blinks. “I doubt we’re gonna know each other for much longer - I mean - I’m going back to the village right now.”

“Exactly.” Wilbur gives him a small smile. “If, by some miracle, we know each other for an extended period of time, I will tell you my deep dark secrets.”

Tommy scowls. “You really don’t want to tell me now?”

“Honestly, I don't think you want to know.”

“That’s a cop out and you know it - ”

“It doesn’t make it less true, Tommy.” Wilbur sighs, all traces of mirth gone. “Let’s just get to the clearing, yeah? I imagine you miss being home.”

He doesn’t. He really, really doesn’t.

But they drop it anyway, and they keep walking.

~

Dream, as expected, isn’t happy to see him. “Tommy!” he cries out, the most forced and deranged smile on his face. “You’re alive!”

“Ah, yeah,” he confirms.

The nearest villagers have gathered around the gate and gawk at him in a semi circle formation, Dream at the forefront.

“Did you slay the serpent? Where is your sword?”

“Um… funny story, actually, I think the serpent’s gone?”

Murmurings start up in the crowd. “Gone?” Dream questions, “What do you mean gone?”

Tommy clears his throat, preparing to recount the events of the previous day. But his words get stuck in his throat - didn’t Wilbur say he wanted to remain hidden? Granted, this isolated village certainly couldn’t do much about it if they knew of him but… speaking of him still feels like a betrayal. “I - uh - I really don’t know, okay? I waited for the creature but it never showed up.”

A flicker of a scowl crosses Dream’s features. “Are you sure it didn’t find you?”

There's an unsettling quality to his voice. The crowd goes silent.

“If it had, don’t you think I’d be soaking in stomach acid right now?” He fires back. Then he nods with a faux embarrassed look, as if remembering something he’d forgotten - "Of course not - you’d never send out villagers assuming they’d perish, would you?”

Dream is silent, an unreadable look on his face. Tommy meets his eyes and refuses to look away. “If the serpent is gone, then I suppose you won’t mind going out again tomorrow.” He gestures to Tommy’s empty hands. “And as you seem to lack respect for village equipment, then you will leave this place without a sword, either.”

Dream turns on his heel and stalks away. “We’re pleased to have you back in one piece, Tommy.”

~

Tommy sighs. “Here we go again,” he mumbles. He takes a deep breath. “WILBUUUR!” he screams. “WILBUR, I PISSED OFF THE HEAD OF COUNCIL AGAAAAIN. PLEASE HELP ME. I DON’T WANT TO DIE OUT HERE.”

He waits a few seconds after yelling, waiting to hear something on the wind. He hears branches rustling behind him and across the clearing, a pair of glowing eyes peers at him from the darkness.

Shit. What was it that Wilbur said? ‘Everything in these woods eats humans.’

Tommy starts running in the direction of the cave.

He gets maybe half a kilometer just booking it before tripping and falling on his face. Agony shoots up his foot. “Motherfucker,” he moans painfully, “what the fuck?”

“Tommy?”

He looks up and his face breaks out in a grin despite the pain. “Wilbur, holy shit - did you hear me yelling?”

Wilbur smiles at him. “Well I’m here now, aren’t I?” He snorts, rolling his eyes. “Really - I think the whole forest heard you.”

Tommy winces sheepishly. “Yeah actually - uh - that’s why I was running. Speaking of, we should get going because I think I might have - ”

A roar sounds from behind him and Wilbur’s smile drops. “Bloody hell, Tommy, what did you do?”

“I screamed, we just discussed this, dude let’s just fucking - ”

Wilbur grabs him by the elbow and they run, but pain shoots up his foot everytime he presses weight on it.

Without warning, Wilbur leans down and scoops him up. Tommy yelps out but Wilbur pays no mind, simply sprinting at inhumanly fast speeds before depositing him on the cool Earth.

“Listen to me,” he says, remarkably calm, “stay right here. I’ll be back in like. Five to ten minutes, okay?”

“What?”

“Um - okay - split the difference? Call it seven minutes thirty seconds - ”

“What?!”

Wilbur offers him a cheeky smile. “Just don’t worry about it too much, alright? I’ll be back, I promise.”

And with that, he turns tail and runs - but not back to his cave, no - he goes in the direction of the scary monster thing that had just chased Tommy through the fucking woods for a solid half kilometer. He wants to follow, to see what Wilbur’s doing, to try and help how he can, but when he tries to stand up, he stumbles from pain. Even if he wasn’t working with a twisted ankle, there’s no way he could keep up. He collapses onto the ground.

“You better pull a fucking miracle out of your ass right now,” he murmurs to the wind, tucking his knees into his chest. “Please.”

The passing minutes feel like hours and it about drives Tommy insane. He struggles to his feet and starts to make his way back. He contemplates shouting - maybe if he could distract the beast then Wilbur could run - ? Or something like that.

He gets about a few meters before Wilbur appears some distance away in the trees. His figure perks up and he starts jogging over to meet him.

“Tommy? Why are you up?”

“Ah well - you know, good cardio?”

Wilbur grins. “Aw… were you worried about me?”

“I’d literally pay money to see you get mauled by a… whatever that thing was - if I knew my safety was guaranteed.”

Wilbur snorts. “Yeah, yeah, yeah… glad we’re on the same page.” He loops an arm around Tommy and supports his weight. “Let’s just get back home.”

In spite of himself, Tommy smiles.

~

Tommy sits with his leg propped on a stool and a warm mug of tea pressed in his hands. Wilbur stands at his ankle, carefully wrapping it up in clean leaves and fabric.

“You are a disaster waiting to happen, Tommy Innit.”

He smiles crookedly. “Glass houses, cave boy. Tell me all about how messy I am - or don’t, really. Haven’t you heard? I’m the biggest man ever.”

Wilbur chuckles. “Uh huh. Is that why you fucked up your ankle so badly after running and crying out for my aid?”

“I literally have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Wilbur keeps working, an endeared smile on his face as he gently prepares the brace.

“Thank you.” Tommy says quietly.

He glances up and gives him a gentle look. “For helping you? It’s nothing.”

“It’s really not, though. I mean, to me at least - I don’t know, maybe you make it a habit of fixing up whatever lost idiot you find in your vicinity - ” Wilbur lets out a quiet laugh, “ - but you saved my life, so thanks.”

Wilbur finishes up, picking up his own mug and taking a few idle sips. “You’re good company,” he answers kindly.

Tommy shakes his head. “Trust me, you’re the the only one who thinks that…” He doesn't mean anything by it, it's just a throwaway comment. But when he meets Wilbur’s gaze, he's met with pity.

“Who told you that?”

Tommy shrugs nonchalantly. “I’m not well liked where I’m from.”

“Aw Tommy, I’m sure that’s not true - ”

“It is,” he cuts in sharply. He clears his throat and shoots an apologetic glance at Wilbur. “It really is, I’m sorry for snapping.”

Wilbur’s quiet for a moment. “Why don’t the villagers like you?” Oh boy…

Tommy shrugs. “I can’t contribute much. No family either, head of council had them killed when I was younger. He would have gone after me too, but there’s a strict policy against executing children. I was pretty much untouchable - well,” he pauses and makes a face, “legally at least. But anyone who was too nice to me would suddenly find the council breathing down their necks. And people learn quick when you hold everything over their head.” He swishes his tea around, watching the dredges at the bottom.

Wilbur hesitantly moves a little closer. “You’re still a kid though, aren’t you?”

Tommy gives him a look. “I’m a man - ” he starts to quip.

“But aren’t you like - fifteen? Sixteen?” he continues in that same, worried tone.

Tommy falls silent.

“So this is his workaround - sending you out here," Then he adds quietly under his breath, "to me." In a normal volume, he asks, “so… what? - is he just gonna keep sending people out here? The ones he doesn’t like?”

Tommy shrugs, but nods. “I assume so.”

Wilbur suddenly pulls him in for a hug. The sensation is like a shock to his system, he can’t remember the last time someone held him - fuck - even touched him affectionately at all. They stay embraced for a few seconds before Wilbur pulls away with a hardened look, hands still on his shoulders. “As long as I’m alive, this forest will be a safe haven for you.”

He barely nods, holding back tears. “Thanks Wil…”

Wilbur’s face softens. “I mean it,” he smiles teasingly. “No matter how many times you get thrown out on your ass, I will come and dust you off.”

Tommy playfully smacks him and Wilbur laughs.

He's suddenly struck with a thought - “Man, how did you deal with that animal thing by the way?”

“Ah, you know.” Wilbur pauses, seeming to weigh potential responses. “I ate it.”

“Uh huh. Keep your secrets, I’ll figure you out eventually.”

Wilbur laughs, but there’s an air of fear in it too. Tommy just smiles.

~ ~ ~

it was only a matter of time until i remade my fanfic tumblr lol

hope you guys enjoyed

[gremlin-writes-angst]

Scraps to a Tank

Ive been working on this AU for a while. I'm very excited to finally post the first chapter. I'd love feed back from anyone, about anything. This is one of my favorite things I've come up with/written, and want to know how I can improve.

I am tagging some of my favorite redacted asmr writers/Tumblr pages because I'd love to have some feedback (if comfortable and have the time) but also I just want to share what I have.

This chapter is a little cheesy, so small warning for that.

 1.7 k words

Fandom: Redacted Asmr/Audio

TW/CW: Quinn in other words toxic, controlling, abusive relationship. nothing graphic. This is a Boxing/Fighting Au so there is fighting, i wouldn't consider it graphic, but everyone's different so read with your own discretion.

Let me know if I missed a trigger or spelling mistake.

Please comment and reblog, it lets me know people like my stuff and encourages me to write more!!!!!!

The building was intimidating.

It wasn't tall or fancy like the buildings a couple of blocks down.

It was an average building.

An average gym.

And yet it was still so daunting.

They checked the card for about the sixteenth time.

The sign matched the card.

The dirty, crusty, crumbled-up card.

The card's appearance didn't match its meaning.

This card was their lottery ticket.

“That name doest fit you.”

They turned around, a man, a beast.

He was tall, big, rugged.

The definition of strong.

Standing right in front of them.

“Excuse me?”

“Your fighter name, it doesn't fit you. And honestly neither does this.” 

His hand slowly waved around, gesturing to the alley.

“You're better than an alley fighter.”

They couldn't hold back their laugh, short and dry.

Just like Quinn’s. 

“You must have mistaken me for someone else. I'm the fighter that lost.”

“I know.”

He steps closer.

Yet distanced.

He was still giving them space.

He respected them.

“And everyone and their mothers knows that fight was rigged. Though I could see it.”

Intrigued, they took a step closer.

“See what?”

“The passion. The strength, the techniques, you are a fighter.”

“I’m not.”

“You have the will to be.”

He stretched his hand out, a business card.

“I can teach you.”

“So this guy approached me today.”

All Quinn did was grunt and roll away from them.

“He says he can teach me how to fight.”

Their excitement was palpable.

“I already did.”

The air tensed as he fought to dampen their excitement.

For once, he failed.

“No, like real fighting, I looked up the name on the card. His dad is Gabriel Shaw, like Gabe Shaw!”

They hadn't felt this hopeful for a long time, and they wished Quinn would share their interest, at least a little, at least for once.

“Gabe Shaw, like the 3 time champi-”

“Two time, I recognized the name, he died before the last fight.”

The air tensed more.

Quinn was good at pushing things to their limit.

Even the air.

They hated it.

It was sicking.

They were sick of it.

Sick of Quinn.

“I think I'm going to take him up on it, he doesn't fight anymore, but from what I saw he’s good, just as good as his dad, and his fighters get pretty far. I could be a real fighter, I could learn real techniqu-”

“I already taught you real shit, and we already win.”

He moved fast and with anger.

Out of the bed he charged at them.

“Quin-”

“We already win. You're getting too cocky. Winning isn't about the fight itself, winning comes from the fuckers that bet, the poor drunk suckers we trick with the fights. That's how we win. You are no fighter, you know that. I’ve shown you that.”

He looked into their eyes, he didn't have to threaten them.

Not with details at least.

They knew it all too well.

That look in his eyes.

The tone in his voice.

It was all he had to do. 

And he knew it.

And he loved it.

He smiled, wicked and calm. Like this was normal, they supposed it was.

They didn't want it to be.

Not anymore. 

His hand reached for their forearm.

“Let us get to bed now precio-”

 They moved.

 Just slightly.

Just enough to avoid his touch.

"You don't want to do that, precious."

He was right.

They weren't ready.

They had to be ready.

They will be ready.

"I couldn't take it."

"What?"

The other fighter spoke, they weren't looking at you, their eyes on Quinn.

"Being with him. Dealing with him once a month is too much."

"Yeah. You're the first one to say that."

"Probably because the other fighters want to get in his pants. They just can't resist ‘The Viper’ "

They don't reply.

"Sorry, I thought you knew."

"I do, there's not much I can do."

"I think there is.”

"You don't understand"

"I do."

They look at the chunky heart-shaped ring on their finger.

"You can get out."

Those words drew them in.

Cautiously they expressed their interest.

"He's quite insecure, use it. Take away his control.”

There was a pause.

They looked around again.

Their eyes caught on Quinn.

A decision was being made behind those eyes.

When they made their decision it was clear.

They made eye contact.

Strong eye contact.

And continued.

“You'll have your moment. I promise. Take it or don’t, it’s up to you.”

They turn their back. 

" It's a little strange that you never win these staged fights. I think it's about damn time.”

"I hope everyone's bets are placed because the books are closed for Scraps vs Sweetheart!"

The announcer looks at Quinn, and with a quick nod, he starts again.

"Fighters ready?"

Sweetheart has an intense stare as they nod.

Scraps, on the other hand, doesn't hear the announcer the first time.

"Scraps? This fighter isn't even prepared, it's your fault if you took your chances on this underdog."

They snap back. 

"I'm ready."

And they were.

"Then…..FIGHT!"

The match starts, as planned. 

A couple hits, a swing of the legs and Scraps is knocked to the floor, as planned.

Sweetheart approached, to taunt, as rehearsed.

"Don't take this personally."

That's the only hit they give sweetheart.

Sweetheart's eyes glimmer as they smile.

"I won't. Take your moment."

Scraps grabs their neck, slamming their heads together before flipping them behind. Scraps moves fast as they get up. In the crowd, they see Quinn and his goons moving to the ring. 

"Sorry, thank you."

"Don't be, go."

They climb the makeshift fence and run. A huge smile stains their face as they leave the building, rain washes the sweat off their face. They keep running. Not running away from Quinn but towards freedom,  towards their future.

They took a deep breath before they opened the gym doors.

It’s bigger than they'd expected.

They'd never been in a professional gym like this. 

There were multiple rings, real rings, not the homemade stuff they were used to.

There's no reception desk like a public gym, but luckily David Shaw was the first person they spotted.

He was in a ring with someone.

They walk towards the ring, they can feel the other fighters watching them.

They get to the ring David is in.

Neither he nor the other fight realizes it.

"David?"

The two whip their head to you.

"Get out."

He was calm but still seemed angry.

"I'm Scraps, from the-"

"I know who you are. Now get out!"

They climb out of the ring, and begin their walk to the door, feeling defeated and quite offended they, whisper to themselves.

"Well fuck you mister big shot ."

"I'm not a big shot."

David says from behind. 

Scraps freezes up.

"When I said get out I meant the rink."

They stay still.

"Will you turn around?"

David didn't hold back his frustration.

Scraps feels it'd be best to turn around.

"Sorry."

"You shouldn't enter a ring without permission, not here."

"Sorry, I've never been somewhere this professional."

"You don't mean that."

"What?"

"Those sorries. That is not how you feel."

"I am sorry. And how exactly would you know how I feel? You just met me."

David's eyebrows raise as his eyes keep a dull annoyed look.

“To quote you ‘Well fuck you mister big shot’, that's how you feel, Don't act differently,  it pisses me off. I hate suck-ups."

Scraps believes him.

"Well, I'm not sorry, only because you don't have to be an ass, you said you recognize me, then you should of figured I wouldn't know these rules."

"I was an ass so I could protect you, get used to it."

Scraps smiles.

David rolled his eyes.

"It’s been about a year."

"Does the offer still stand?"

"Yes."

"Then what's the problem?"

"Nothing."

Silence rests between them.

Scraps isn't patient enough to let it continue. 

"So can I start today?"

"We can't just take you in at the last moment, the trainers have others to train.”

"I don't." 

A curly-haired blonde yells across the room, near a punching bag, and starts rushing toward the two.

"I'll do it." 

David takes a breath so deep it is visible from his chest. Before he let out a sigh.

"No."

"Oh come on David, I'm a great trainer."

"Asher, I know that, but I said no. You are not the right fit. "

"Ohhh you want to train them."

Asher starts walking towards Scraps.

"Lucky bastard."

He whispers, without maliciousness.

"So what do we call you?"

"Well, I've gone by Scraps for a while."

"Scraps? Really?"

He looks them up and down.

"That won't work"

"He's right, I'm not calling you that."

David seconded Asher.

"Well, I don't really have any other ideas."

"Tank!"

Another voice echoes throughout the gym. 

Scraps wasn't expecting to recognize anyone other than David, but rushing towards the group was the boxer who gave them the nudge they needed.

Behind said fighter was a guy, seemingly trying to stop the other from coming over. He was failing.

"That would be Sweetheart,  they're our newest addition."

Asher kindly tried to keep Scraps updated through all the chaos.

"They know who I am Ash, at least I hope they do, with the concussion they gave me. You've got one thick skull."

Slightly overwhelmed by all the attention,  Scraps freezes and doesn't answer.

"But listen, Tank, it's perfect,  there like a machine. They gave me a concussion for God's sake, and then, after slamming our heads together,  which had to have hurt them too, they flipped me. That mother fucker acted like I weighed nothing. They're a fucking tank."

"How many times have I told you to watch your language."

David made a sound comparable to a growl.

Sweetheart rolled their eyes, then looked over to Scraps, to engage them.

"He's not a fan of my filthy mouth."

"I sure am."

"Milo"

David sounded like he wanted to strangle Milo.

Yet, to Scraps surprise no one was scared.

The group just laughed it off.

It was strange to Scraps.

"Ohhh my god!"

Asher shot his hands out to get everyone's attention.

"If you go by Scraps now, and we change it to Tank it's like, like you're being rebuilt, becoming stronger. Which is fucking sick."

David shakes his head at the profanity. Before turning to Scraps.

"It's up to you, it's your name. You don't have to choose now. "

"I like it. I mean, I love it."

That's all they said, they wanted to say more but didn't want to overshare about their life after five minutes of meeting these people.

"I am a tank. So I'll be Tank."

If you'd rather not be tagged let me know and I'll respect your wishes.

@dominimoonbeam @romirola @ejunkiet

[genericpuff]

Your work is fantastic, but please be careful about copyright. I’m not exactly sure if RS/Webtoon could take down your Rekindled work on the basis of copyright, but there’s no doubt in my mind that she would try if it was possible.

Id recommend making it different enough from LO to ensure nothing like that would happen in the future. That’s all, have a good day :D

Thank you for the concern, this is definitely something that has lowkey weighed on my mind but I ultimately know they can't really do anything about it unless I were to either 1.) start claiming LO as my own (which is already laid out in the master post as a disclaimer that this is a fan project and thus falls under fair use/fanfiction, with proper credits to Rachel Smythe) or 2.) tried profiting off it as its own individual entity (meaning, I obviously can't sell Rekindled or put it behind paywalls, but I'm not even inclined to do that anyways as this is just a side project for me lol)

If, hypothetically, Rekindled did get DMCA'd in any way over this, it would set the precedent that all non-profit fanworks, modifications and/or remakes are off limits, including panel edits, panel redraws, character redesigns, LO-stylized works, etc. and ... that's definitely not a beast Webtoons should be willing to poke LOL (because ultimately, you can't copyright an art style and Rachel is still using characters that are not her own, the only concept that 'belongs' to her are her designs around those characters but that's why I have that disclaimer to remind people that this is a fan project and shouldn't be confused for the 'real thing').

It's like when WT copyright struck Pyrrhic and Victoria's videos. WT could keep them from uploading for a few weeks so the platform could be given an opportunity to press it further, but they couldn't take any legitimate legal action because there's nothing illegal about reviewing or criticizing content that's free to access on a phone app. So all it really did was fuck with P&V's algorithm visibility and posting schedule.

The best I try to do to protect my own butt is keep it purely on Tumblr (meaning I'm not gonna mirror it to any official webcomic platforms, ESPECIALLY not Webtoons) and not sell or crowdfund anything related to or affiliated with Rekindled. Running a general Patreon or Ko-Fi or Twitch subs would probably be fine (for the same reason it's 'fine' for sakimi-chan to run a Patreon for her fanart content) but I don't wanna give Webtoons a reason to go ham on my ass LOL (and I already utilize those platforms for my main projects anyways so I don't want to be doubling up, it's too much work on top of what I'm already having to manage).

So yeah, here's hoping I don't get my ass slapped, but I really doubt that'll happen. I make it pretty clear in the disclaimers, art and writing that this isn't LO and it's not my intention to try and take credit for Rachel's work (mean take: not like I'd really WANT to take credit when it's so awful nowadays, blech) so as long as I don't try to sell it, there's zero reason for WT/RS to try anything and it would just make them look like bigger assholes. Which neither of them need right now (￣y▽,￣)╭

[ninhaoma-ya]

For the fic writer meme: 4, 16, 32, 39,54. 56

Thank you very much for the asks!

4. Where do you find inspiration for new ideas?

All over the place. Reading something else, cycling home, listening to a podcast… mainly I blame the cosmic inspiration rays, streaming through the universe, combined with my lack of protective gear to stop the pesky buggers.

16. How many fic ideas are you nurturing right now? Share one of them?

Eeeeh… 94? <sweating>

And I’ll one-up the ask and share two! “How to win friends and influence people” for DoVio and “Chess game” for LawNa. And, of course, the rest of the prompts for this years Heart Pirates week which I will get to, eventually…

(And my latest reread of Discworld which had the unfortunate side-effect of inspiring me to start plotting a Moist von Lipwig-story…)

32. Name three of your favorite fanfic writers.

The list is too long for tumblr, but since I am in thesis hell, I lean towards hurt(/comfort) at the moment.

@chromatic-lamina for the Hearts (AO3 here)

@senlinyu for the angst (AO3 here)

@purplehairedwonder for that sweet, sweet whump (AO3 here)

39. Share a snippet from a WIP

Law grunted as he sliced through an enormous alligator, rearranging its parts with those of a nearby tree. Their path so far had been quite uneventful, but they were probably nearing the shade and good hiding spots of a ruined temple, if the increasing amount of beasts and just plain weird creatures were something to judge by.

“I’d say we’re nearing the main area,” Nico Robin said, echoing his thoughts, as she used her extra limbs to brush away greenery and peer through the undergrowth.

“What makes you say that,” Bepo asked, panting and surreptitiously clawing at the opening of his boiler suit. Law furrowed his brows – the mink sounded like he was suffering from the heat. He really should have left Bepo on the cool ship with Ikkaku and Franky, but Bepo had insisted… but what kind of captain was he if he didn’t put his crew’s needs before their wants? A quick Scan ensured him that Bepo was fine, even if he was running a bit of a temperature.

“If not for the increasing amount of things that try to kill us, which implies the presence of good hiding spots, such as could be created by a ruined temple," she said, pointing at a cracked stone tablet, “I’d say the sign that says ‘this way to main plaza and temple entrance’ in one of the ancient tongues of the island is a good indicator.”

54. What’s your favorite part about the fanfiction writing process?

Writing. Also, my least favourite part is writing. It’s good you get to write, but then you have to write, y’know? But I really enjoy getting lost in the story and finding the right way to express something, preferably with at least two layers of meaning to it.

56. What’s something about your writing that you pride yourself on?

My multi-layered jokes and easter eggs and call-backs and puns and wordplay. It’s fun to just go off on a pun-tangent and drop weird-ass almost-acronyms and still somehow make it make sense (for me at least). I’m still inordinately proud of my “plastered enough to start their own construction company” as a way to describe really, really drunk people in StatSig, for example.

I'm still accepting (and hoping for) more asks as I try to procrastinate working on my thesis, so anyone reading this; feel very free to ask away! List to be found here.

Answered: 1, 2, 4, 9, 11, 12, 16, 25, 26, 32, 39, 54, 56

[mintywolf]

AO3 Tag Game Thing

Tagged by @astoriacolumnstaircase. Thank you!

How many fandoms have you written for?

Ever? I mean my first ever was a Sound of Music sequel that I wrote in kindergarten. But if you mean like posted online, five. Chronologically: Phantom of the Opera, BloodRayne, Final Fantasy X, Fire Emblem Fates, and Critical Role. On AO3 right now though I only have FE and CR because some of those were before I came to AO3 and I also have a(n admittedly bad) habit of destroying old or unfinished works that I don’t think I’m going to come back to. :\ (RIP The Heretic’s Daughter, you just never found your audience.)

What’s your favorite fic on your Ao3?

The one I’m most excited about is A Long Road Home, although it’s a comic that I’m crossposting to there from tumblr. Definitely the one that’s taking the highest level of dedication and the one with upcoming plot developments that I’m most eager to get to!! I’ve been really happy about how kindly it’s been received by the fandom and how many people seem to be enjoying it. I am too.

Although I’ve kind of moved on from the fandom I’m still pretty proud of Nohrian Lullaby, because it’s a complete novel (with illustrations!). While it stands on its own it was however the first part of a planned trilogy but now that I’ve gotten into Critical Role I think I’d have a hard time going back to it, haha. It was Fire Emblem’s voice cast that led me to CR but now that I’ve gotten to know them all I feel like I’d have a hard time approaching e.g. King Garon and Queen Mikoto with the solemnity they have in the game knowing now what Travis and Marisha are like at the table. XD

Have you posted elsewhere? If yes, which of those fics is your favorite?  

I’m most proud of Guardian (another comic) because that was a huge undertaking and in order to do it I had to forcibly overcome the SEVERE executive dysfunction that had been hindering me for my entire life. (Absolutely trashed my school performance and for some reason none of the adults around me seemed to think that this might be a symptom of a larger problem? I was just repeatedly told “But you’re smart! You just need to work harder!” and could not figure out why I just couldn’t.) But when I started working on that and was kind of floundering at the beginning having a hard time keeping up with it, I told myself that if I wanted to see it exist in the world, then I had to be the one to create it, and basically brute-forced myself out of a lifetime habit of destructive procrastination. I taught myself to break a huge task (200+ page comic) into smaller tasks (one page at a time) and set a schedule to make that workable (day one sketch, day two lineart, and so on). And now I sincerely don’t allow myself to procrastinate anymore. If I’m given a task to do I know to get it done ASAP before it starts to seem unconquerably huge and that is honestly as much as an accomplishment as the comic itself. It’s still a struggle but it has improved the quality of my life by a lot. (Still have not received diagnosis or treatment for whatever is causing the executive dysfunction! But at least I’ve managed to wrestle that beast to the ground and am continuing to hold it there.)

How many bookmarks do you have on AO3?

I only recently figured out what they are for, haha, so 6.

How many unread comments do you have?

None! See the above procrastination thing. I have already replied to them all. :)

Any subscriptions?

About as many as the bookmarks. Currently I’m most looking forward to updates from Consequences of a Bleeding Heart and The Madness from the Salt. :D

Any favorite tags?  

Laudna & Imogen Temult, Laudna/Imogen Temult, and within those I tend to comb through for AUs with an interesting premise. (Judging by my bookmarks my definition of “interesting” seems to trend towards “vampires” haha.)

I don’t know if she’s still active on tumblr but I’m gonna tag @auronlu bc she has had a very respectable fic writing career! (Feel free to ignore this, however.)

[fatesundress]

hi lov

i’m on here after devouring the entirety of ur tom riddle masterlist because i just can’t encapsulate my love or admiration for ur writing in a simple comment. you’re incredible – i haven’t been invested in his character for ages but you’ve managed to bring new life to an old hyperfixation, now with the added obsession for your prose and characterisation specifically. observations was beautiful and so so endearing, and patience please […] was the first of ur works i came across that managed to captivate me entirely.

and shit, i’m gonna start another paragraph for the love that used to be there because it deserves it. wow. holy shit - bravo. i woke up this morning with plans to read it in segments and work on my own writing in between, but i sat down and ate through it like a starving beast. it’s 4 hours later now - every minute of which taken up by reading - and i will never stop thinking about that oneshot; that heart-wrenching, gorgeous, detailed piece of work that triggered something in me i don’t think can ever be mended. something about how subtlety soft tom is throughout - how readers friendship with him is chronicled throughout the years. how you re-contextualised his motives by attributing them, in part, to her. love creeps up on them so masterfully that i felt as though ive lived through every second described, like the angst and pain of losing a person who’s become so integral to your personhood was a real thing i was going through. and the mentions of the war, of blood prejudice and the wizarding world’s ignorance to what’s going on with the muggles - they all make for the best little touches. i appreciate every thought u put into that fic, seriously

i can go on and on but i don’t wanna bore you. im just so hdjjdjwjdjejjd, fucking fawning over ur writing and will never get enough. 🤍🤍

oh wow wowow wowowow. okay let me compose myself and be normal

thank you so SO much 😭 i've been in a really self-critical, demotivated place with my writing and checking in on tumblr to see this is ??????>?? indescribably reassuring and incredibly kind

i should preface that i basically do one skim-over of my fics before i post them, have no beta-readers, and for shame i cannot reread them so it's always so helpful to get some positive insight (and from someone with several miguel and joel fics i will Definitely Absolutely Not be binging later) and be reminded that people are enjoying them!! so thank you thank you thank you!!!!!

your feelings on for the love that used to be here are exactly what i hoped to elicit :') i'm so honoured and grateful to play any part in rekindling passion for an old interest, and to do it for one i myself am so inconsolably passionate about means hopefully i'm doing something right. ty for being here! ty for your sweet words! so much love to you <3

[katyspersonal]

I’m gonna be honest. People who make elaborate “call out” posts to “warn” other bystanders about a person because of a drama THEY were involved in with said person give me the creeps. Exposing private message threads? Twisting words clearly meant one way to mean something else? Putting on the best victim voice they can? Yeah, no.

I don’t give a fuck who you befriend or interact with on Tumblr. I don’t care if you wanna talk to the most hardcore “bigots” on the sight and try to understand them. We never get anywhere idealologically if we just ignore each other. Everyone just stews in their own corners. Like I’m not kidding, GO TALK TO THOSE PEOPLE. Get to know them. Befriend them. Help them. Find out why they think the way they do for the understanding alone. You can be friends with a person and not support what they believe in.

For people to act like self-righteous weirdoes about it and “call you out” just screams Catholic household shaming tendencies with a dash of high school bully and I ain’t here for it.

Let’s just say I now know who not to talk to on this sight because of those call-out posts either. It had the reverse effect on me.

Hey... I do not know who you are, it is your right to lurk (maybe you don't even have Tumblr account?), but I am really glad that you reached out here to talk about such things with me <:3

I already described my stance on the matters in detail in previous asks, and I can say me and you have very similar approach to people and events. Honestly also yes, in 99% of the cases people "warning" me about someone basically gives me the 'thanks for follow recommendation, lil shit!' gut responce x) The rest 1% is some drastic and undebatable danger for potentially anyone that is not moral panic but practical one (a p3do or a scammer for example), but attempt to socially excile people for different experiences and opinions is absurd - so is becoming a control freak over anyone who interacts. I thought we all left the "if you sit at the lunch table with a person popular kids declared a looser - you become a looser too :c" mentality back in middle school, but apparently some people didn't. :facepalm:

I also think something got lost here - because people are within their right to create an online space serving as only comfort for them, avoiding negative stimulus or talking to people that anger them. The problem is, they can't mind their OWN business! Creating their own internet bubble is not enough - they can't bear the thought that someone they hate still exists nearby even if they aren't interacting!

I call such people 'The Alfreds'. You know, Alfred. The fanatic that cannot sleep at night knowing Annalise is still alive and functioning, even though her clan is destroyed and she cannot DO anything. I always felt like this is the implication of him being a co-optor summon in Old Yharnam; Djura makes a valid point that beasts in there can't harm anyone, but Alfred just can't let them EXIST period @_@ They are Alfreds! Natural enemies of Annalises (people that cannot even harm anyone but are IMPURE- errr, "problematic") and Djuras (people who get hostile defending ideas of autonomy and refusing to harm those Alfred want destroyed). ...Yet the Alfreds tend to LOVE either Annalise or Djura o_o" Talk about not understanding the character you simp for! ...They also tend to HATE Alfred's guts. Tell me what character you hate and I'll tell you what you are in denial about. -_-

They HAVE to get petty and convert everyone else into hating that person and "purify" the fandom by denying them interaction and not letting them contribute GOOD things in it like drawings, lore, fanfics, retranslations etc. Nobody cares about the fandom LESS than this sort of "fans". Because they are not able to appreciate art and thoughts - they will "love" everything as long as the "right" person provides it. It is not critical, it is not intimate. It is shallow.

This "approval" is not worth anything. It reduces creativity to a product, it disregards what art exists for - uniting people, and being the beauty anyone can create regardless of gender, race, sexuality, neurodivergency status, their past, religion, ideology. I will never forgive the messed up purity bullies quest to trim and control the one medium where souls of everyone can show regardless of our differences, or even antagonism. That only people woke idiots deemed "pure" can share their creativity and encourage someone else's, that they try to not let people perceive and understand their creativity because they are "wrong" type of person. This mentality needs to die down.

Whew! You guys recently make me talk about things I desperately tried to forget and repress because I just had no "excuse" to vent. But I appreciate the opportunity just falling on me from the sky, this is cathartic. Again, you don't have to show your face or even like me, of course - what matters is that it seems like you can analyze such situations with true insight and make weighted choices. You consciously improve your fandom experience without making it at someone else's expense, and it's all I ever wanted to see to believe communities are not ALL doomed. I am just glad that you took it as 'the Alfreds showed their true face' situation, and I hope you have a good time in the fandom otherwise!

[user-needs-a-username]

Thanks @awesomedurraworld for the tag. Here it is. Tumblr has been being weird for a couple days and I had no idea I got tagged.

are you named after anyone?

I am not named after anyone, but I have a cat my grandmother named after me? And if you ask my dad, he’ll tell you I was named after the place I was conceived (which is not true whatsoever.).

But, yeah, no.

when was the last time you cried?

Let me quickly go check my dms... April first and second were my last real cry days. (My puffy eyes we’re definitely just allergies.)

do you have kids?

No, not yet, but hopefully soon. I can barely wait to have kids. (If you can’t tell by my four or five baby or toddler Ed Elric fics.)

Wait... Do these kids count? (I’m too blind to tell if this is a good picture.)

do you use sarcasm a lot?

Way too much... I am trying to stop so I don’t always sound so mean. People here were I live just don’t get it much...

what sports do you play?

None anymore, but I used to play baseball and softball as a kid. Now I am mildly disabled and prefer going on a long walk or a run.

what's the first thing you notice about people?

Their eyes. What emotion do they convey? Eyes are the windows to the soul, as they say. People have a harder time getting their eyes to lie. And differently the vibes/aura people give off. Can’t hide that either... And, yes, I am only just now realising that I seem to have trust issues...

what's your eye color?

Some people say grey, some say blue, and some say green (But that feels wrong. My eyes only show up as green in warm coloured rooms and pictures.)

scary movies or happy endings?

I’m a sucker for happy endings. I can settle for hopeful and I do write bittersweet, but the extent of my “scary movies” is Doctor Who. I know. Judge me, but I like my babies to be happy.

any special talents?

Is playing very below average piano a special talent?

It’s gotta be that or I’ll need to resort to my ability to always have an injury of some sort as a talent.

where were you born?

Same place I live now. :)

what are your hobbies?

I love to write and draw the most. And many other crafty things grab my attention. I love costuming and playing dnd with my dnd buddies. Probably other things also, but right now, that’s all I’ve got.

do you have pets?

Yes, so many. I have a Walker Coonhound named Rollie that is my big baby. I have two hedgehogs. I have two ducks and lots of chickens, several goats (kids too), fish, two cats, and several other animals. Those are just the ones I dedicate my time to taking care of. The rest of the beasts are on someone else.

how tall are you?

I haven’t a clue. At least five foot six. That’s what I said when I went to get my ID, so that’s just how tall I’m going to be. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

favorite subject in school?

Definitely English. It was always my favourite. It’s so fun.

dream job?

My dream would definitely be writing and creating art while having my own children to chase around during the days. :)

I don’t really know who to tag because it’s so late right now... My brain decided not to work. But you know, if you see this and want to do it, feel free to. And feel free to tag me if you do it. XD