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writefightandflightclub · 10 months ago

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Ride or Die (Santiago “Pope” Garcia x fem!reader): Chapter One (of 11 - COMPLETED SERIES)

Series summary: Together, you and Santiago have been “soldiers” then “friends” then “lovers”; but will you ever figure out what comes next, especially when Santiago can’t (or won’t) stop running?

Genres: a LOT of angst, some smut, best friends to… lovers?

Warnings: see collated series warnings here. Please note this series is NSFW / 18+ and minors or ageless blocks interacting will be blocked.

Series info: this is a COMPLETED SERIES. All chapters are written. Posting schedule is here.

Author’s note: (If you read the original one-shot this slightly amended chapter will already be familiar to you, so I'm sorry for the initial lack of surprises. I promise though - there are many surprises from here!) Some of you may remember that this all started as an angsty smutty one shot, way back in 2020. Let’s just say, some of you really liked that story (thank you!) and a “part 2” was requested so that I could “fix” things for these two idiots (affectionate). Well, I guess part 2 took a while, because now it’s four years later, and I have written 87,000 words (ish). Oops. So, as you might infer through the accidental novel length spew, this series means rather a lot to me. It’s the longest piece of writing I have ever seen through to completion, and so, whilst it’s definitely not perfect, I am pretty proud of it! I hope with all of my little orange heart that you enjoy it, and if you do, any RBs, comments - or anything at all really - would mean the world. These two have lived in my head for four years and I will miss them, but I'm so excited to finally share them with you all! Honestly, I could say lots more, but for now I'll leave you with one more thought, which sums up this whole experience quite frankly: the characters made me do it.

Finally, I have to thank you all, lovely pocket friends, for being so supportive and encouraging the whole way. It means so much to me! Especially, I GOTTA thank the fabulous @astroboots, who has hyped this project from literally before the beginning and been so encouraging, and @foxilayde, who is an incredible cheerleader for all my hare-brained endeavours. ILY!

Word count: 9.7k for this part (it’s broken down into 3 sections, if you prefer to read in stints!).

Tag list info: will reblog separately tagging those on taglist. You can request to be added to the taglist if you are 18+ (or removed!). Send me an ask, please, so I can keep track :)

You love your squad. You really do. However, if you are being honest, it can be tough being treated as “one of the boys”. You know it’s a good thing that they don’t treat you any differently - but sometimes, you have to admit you want to be seen as a woman first and a soldier second. Especially on evenings like this when testosterone and drinks are flowing freely. Evenings when you have an ache in between your thighs that, in your case, calls out for a man. Okay - calls out for Santiago “Pope” Garcia, to be specific.

“I hope you can handle something stiff going down your throat,” you announce crudely to the group, arriving to whoops of appreciation as you slide the tray of hard liquor and beers on to the lofty bar table.

The squad is celebrating a successful bust, and the relief and revelry in the air after the months-long operation is palpable.

“Cheers to that!” Frankie winks with a dumbass grin, rubbing his palms together with glee. “You’re a saviour – Pope’s taking far too long.”

Will helpfully conveys the shots and beers around the table, glasses and bottles clinking and jovial smiles rippling through the group as a direct result. Ready for a cold one, you bring the rim of your beer to your lips for an immediate swig, condensation pooling on your fingers and making you realise how close the air is in this buzzing but dingy place.

“Bottoms-up, boys,” Tom directs as he passes you a shot, earning a good-natured side-eye from you. “And bottoms-eth up-eth, Mi’ Lady,” he adds, along with a regal hand wave to match his faux Olde English tone.

“To busts!” you ‘cheers’, clinking your glasses in the centre of the table. The innuendo earns a throaty, gruff chuckle from Frankie who bumps shoulders with you, inviting you to share in the camaraderie. You give-in with a broad smile, unable -as ever- to resist Frankie’s tittering.

“Oh, hang on,” Frankie says, flitting quickly to a now unoccupied bar stool at an adjacent table (seats are in short supply tonight) and dragging it over to you.

“This for me, Catfish? How gallant.”

He grins. He knows you hate gallant. “It’s actually for Pope and his creaky knees… but you may as well make use of it while he’s pre-occupied,” Frankie chortles. You sit gratefully, your decision to wear heels after months in your beloved combat boots feeling like a definite mistake.

Speaking of mistakes...

“You fucking seeing this?” Tom asks, nodding his head over towards your squad mate, apparently simultaneously in awe of and amused by his current interaction at the bar; the very reason the drinks had been failing to materialise.

Twisting on your perch, you follow his gaze towards Santiago, eyes boring into the back of his head and his wash of grizzled curls. Involuntarily, your eyes trail over his form, the midnight blue button-down taut over his muscled shoulders as he casually props himself against the bar, jeans snug over that impossibly shapely rump. He has the barmaid rapt, eating out of his hand, all batting eyelashes and tongue slack in her mouth. Abandoned, a tray of shots sits unnoticed in front of Santiago as he lingers in conversation with her. All you can do is watch as, next, she leans over the bar brazenly, letting her thick, dark mane cascade across her ample, showcased cleavage. You can’t see Santiago’s expression as he -respectfully, you’re sure- admires her, but you can imagine it.

Occasionally, you are on the receiving end of those expressions too.

Unfortunately, Santiago has a raw talent for making… connections. Besides off-shore bank managers and corrupt lawyers, that also inevitably extends to hook-ups. He is never short of distractions. Or, apparently, you never can hold his attention for long. When you do, though? When he does notice you, he makes you feel like you are the only woman in the world, his focus so intent and unrelenting you feel like he is viewing you through a sniper scope. Like the attention might end you.

You bristle thinking about his selective interest, the dull ache between your legs intensifying.

“Never mind that deserter. Let’s celebrate without him,” you encourage to a ripple of agreement. You toss your shot back in-time with the boys and screw-up your face, shuddering in response as the spirit burns down your throat. You stick your tongue out with a “bleuch” as the aftertaste lingers.

However, your distraction doesn’t work for long, as your comrades seem determined to continue gossiping about the object of your desire.

“How does he do it?” Tom asks in disbelief, with more than a side of jealousy. He’d always given off the vibe of envying Santiago, you’d thought. “We’re all good-looking guys, man. But that little shit’s rolling in it.”

“I don’t know what it is. He’s not even tall,” Will snickers, knowing that Santiago hates being teased about his height.

Frankie interjects. “MaybeFrankie interjects. “Maybe it’s the big dick energy.”

No comment.

You’ve certainly never had any complaints about his stature. He is large enough to feel sturdy and surrounding, and small enough that you can take control of him when the mood strikes you. Oh, and you’ve certainly never had any qualms about his big dick energy… or his big dick for that matter.

Frankie chuckles again at the good-natured teasing and bumps you with his elbow. You are grateful for his easy, infectious laughter, acting like an umbrella against the moody, Santiago-shaped storm cloud which threatens above your head.

“For real though,” Tom interjects, leaning forward over the table as if he’s sharing classified intel. “Has he been getting frisky with the informant again?” His eyes travel around the table, meeting each squad member’s gaze in turn. “I feel like he’s definitely got something going on there too. Tell me I’m seeing things.”

“Luci?” Will asks, then whistles in surprise at Tom’s accusation, his brows converging. You’re not sure if he’s surprised by Santiago’s potentially compromising choices, or impressed by his unparalleled ability to pull. “That sly dog.” Perhaps it’s a little of both.

You tense. Santiago getting involved with an informant. A beautiful informant. Sounds entirely plausible, although Santiago has neglected to tell you if it is true. Besides building connections, another skillset of Santiago’s is his uncanny aptitude for mixing business with pleasure. Realistically, he can do whatever the hell he wants with whomever he wants - it is no business of yours - but, in truth, you are tired. Tired of being the one he only picks up when he has no-one else. Tired of going unnoticed the rest of the time.

“Actually,” Frankie leans forward to drop this juicy titbit of gossip into the conversation. “Luci broke it off. Requested a new contact.” He taps the side of his nose as if to indicate that he has his sources too, trying to drum up some air of mystery. “Coincidence? I think not,” he adds, tipping his head towards the continued scene at the bar.

You stiffen then in cold realisation. That’s why. That’s why he was noticing you earlier tonight. It wasn’t that he finally saw you. It wasn’t you in this dress. It wasn’t you. Yet again, he’d simply run out of distractions.

“Huh,” Tom says, looking a little too pleased with Santiago’s misfortune, swilling the dregs of his beer around absent-mindedly. “Well. He doesn’t seem devastated. It took him all of two minutes to get back on the horse.”

“Come on. You know Santi famously doesn’t get attached,” you snipe, partially serving the sentiment up as a reminder to yourself.

Santiago does have a... reputation. Honestly, you have no problem with that. There is no shame in having casual sex, after all. So long as it is safe and consensual, what does it matter? You’ve even acted as Santi’s “wing-woman” on a number of occasions. It had never been a problem; that is… it hadn’t been a problem until he started having casual sex with you.

Santiago is loyal almost to a fault in many other areas of his life. He is abundantly loyal to you, and there is no doubt in your mind that Santiago sees you as a friend first. As a soldier second. You know he respects you deeply for your sharp-mind, your humour, your straight-talking, and your lethality in equal measure. And, you also know that Santiago desires you. Or, at least, he does when it suits him. When he is paying attention. These various roles never seem to converge, though. As a friend? You and Santiago go way back. As a soldier? You’ve been on his squad longer than anyone has, since decades before you all went freelance. As a lover, though? Well, that is new. And he can’t seem to reconcile this new role with the rest of the ways he knows you.

Yes. Sure. Sometimes, Santiago desires the soft parts of you. Sees you as something other than a friend or a soldier. But you wish he would notice all of you, all at once. He sees you in fragments, like shrapnel. You wish he would piece things together. You wish he would notice you consistently. Not only when you’ve been out in the field too long, spending days bunched into hot and confined spaces, too close for comfort. Not only when hails of bullets send him reeling, searching for any kind of foothold on feeling alive. Still, over and over, you let him. You let him dip you back, with urgency - on to a mattress or a roll-mat or simply down on to the jungle floor - to thrust himself into you.

Santiago “Pope” Garcia is the man you crave. He gives it to you good. He makes you feel like a woman. Of course, there is no one particular way to be or to feel like a woman. There are infinite ways. For you though, very specifically, it is simple. It feels like Santiago desiring the soft parts of you which lay secreted under your tactical gear and your tough façade. It feels like him kissing you, soft lips and abrasive stubble. Strong hands and that muscled body writhing in a mess of breath and flesh. In those moments, you are a soldier least of all. Free of any mission, you become unadulterated; reckless abandon. You cease to be clipped and tactical, precise and lethal, and instead you become a soft, fluid thing beneath him.

Every time you arrive back in the city though, distractions abound. Santiago apparently ceases to desire you. Notice you. You had wrongly believed that tonight felt different. Something about the cool but heady night air. The way he was looking at you in this dress during your walk to the bar to meet the rest of the group. The way his hand lingered on your back as he guided you over to the table. But it mustn’t have been so. It must have been wishful thinking, that’s all.

You’ve done an increasing amount of wishful thinking, lately, it seems.

Too much.

You sigh deeply. You don’t even realise you have zoned out from the group’s banter until Santiago arrives back with the tray of drinks -and no doubt one more phone number in his contacts- by which point, you are riled up enough to grab the shot of tequila right off the tray and down it without thinking, salt and lime be damned.

“Woah, cariño. Feeling spirited tonight? Not wanna wait for the rest of us?” His smile is broad and easy and annoying as hell and suddenly you are adrift.

“Nah, I’m done waiting, Santi,” you bite. He doesn’t catch the double-meaning in your words, because of course he doesn’t. Why would he?

Your skin flushes with instant heat as a result of his presence- definitely a recently acquired response. And so, you hastily dismiss your leather jacket, revealing a strappy, red, form-fitting dress beneath. Your appearance even earns a low whistle and murmur of approval from your buddies.

“Someone’s gonna get lucky in that cute little number,” Frankie says pointedly, even as he’s staring curiously at Santiago staring at you. Maybe he’s on to you two.

You smile, happy -as ever- to take a little flattery. Plus, you do find it hilarious to watch these guys squirm when they remember that you do, in fact, have a body concealed underneath all your tactical gear.

“Well I won’t get lucky if you chumps keep staring down every man who looks at me,” you complain, already having clocked the defensive perimeter which has formed around you, simply from the way they have positioned themselves.

The squad are protective of you, unnecessarily, and you simultaneously chide and love them for it.

“Big men protec’, chiquita,” Frankie teases, puffing out his biceps and chest like a gorilla. He says it knowing fine well you could take out any one of them if you wanted.

You hear the warm rumble of Santiago’s laugh next to you too, chiming in time with yours, his body closer than you’d realised as he dishes the remaining shots out. “Please!” he scoffs, casually slinging his arm around the back of your bar stool, the shot primed in his other hand. “You know damn well she doesn’t need protection!”

“She’s gonna need protection when she gets laid,” Will quips, causing Tom to almost snort beer out of his nose in amusement and Frankie to high-five him from across the table. You would scold him but you’re laughing too, even as you roll your eyes good-naturedly at their ‘bro’ humour.

You drop your head towards Santiago as the others continue snickering like a pack of hyenas, the alcohol clearly having gone to their heads already. That’s what they get for drinking on empty stomachs. You and Santiago’d had the foresight to hit up a first rate food truck on the route across town, like sensible people.

“Dance with me, Pope?” you ask, giving him a subtle yet seductive bat of your eyes.

“For the love of God, Pope. Leave some women for the rest of us,” Tom pleads -partially in jest, you’re sure- as Santiago curtly nods, not knowing quite what you’re up to but taking your hand anyway.

“Ok. I hear you. Let’s ditch these losers,” Santiago joshes, smiling as he gets a predictable rise out of his squad.

It isn’t so unusual for you two to dance together when you visit bars, so it doesn’t earn too much suspicion from the group (plus, you’re military - you two have been pretty damn good at hiding your hook-ups, covering your tracks). Dancing with you might undo the careful ground-work Santiago had laid with the barmaid just a moment ago, however. Even so, Santiago opts to follow you into the sweaty throng of people on the floor all the same, your fingers loosely twined with his as you lead him. You find a relatively private spot, away from the prying eyes of the squad, and come to a standstill.

You turn into Santiago at the last available moment, meaning he ends up disconcertingly close. Almost chest-to-chest with you.

“Put your hands on me,” you command, a little more throaty than intended. You sling your arms around his shoulders, fingertips brushing at the buzzed hair at the nape of his neck. Santiago hesitates, but following a search of your eyes he plants his hands firmly onto the small of your back. You instantly feel the broadness and the warmth of him through the thin fabric of your dress. Those lethal hands. The hands that have pulled triggers and grenade clips. Choked the life out of assailants. Those lethal hands that have traced gently down your back as you laid bare beside him, killing you softly.

You let his hands rove over your body, wherever he wants to put them. Apparently, he wants to put them everywhere he can, like it’s a compulsion to touch you. He trails his hands up and down your back, ghosts them over the globes of your ass, snakes them down to the lip of your dress where his fingertips brush against your bare thighs, tacky with heat. And, after wandering, his hands come to rest low-slung on your hips, exactly where he likes to grab you when he thrusts into you. He gives you a subtle squeeze there, and the feel of him floods back to you. You are reminded of the way, when you’re with him, your own lethal hands are finally occupied by something other than battle. Of the times when you relinquish any preoccupation with victory, in favour of reaching perfect surrender. The times when your heart throbbing in your throat feels like safety instead of danger.

His hands on you feel... natural. You move together symbiotically. Your bodies are always, easily in sync. On the battlefield, on the dance floor, in the bedroom. Always moving as a team. After so long side-by-side, it would be hard to exist in a manner to the contrary. It would be hard to exist without him at all.

Will be hard.

You let Santiago press against you as you sway together on the darkened dancefloor, gyrating and slinking your hips in time with the music. You feel him half-harden against you and his grip on your hips tightens, a feeble but gruff sound involuntarily escaping his lips and causing a coil to tighten in the pit of you.

You think Santiago looks into your eyes meaningfully then. With something deep and unspeakable. Though that must simply be the wishful thinking you’ve become so practised at, and so, you immediately dismiss the thought, even as you nestle your mouth closer to his ear in order to speak. As your breath fans over the corded column of his neck you could swear he engorges further. And, the ache between your legs becomes almost unbearable at the spike of his cologne in your nostrils, his familiar scent curling within you.

Santiago doesn’t smell like spice or musk or woodsmoke. Not to you. To you he smells like memories and possibilities - a heady paradox. Like your past and future. His scent inspires a quickening within you. Something under your skin is spurred into motion, tending toward collision. Yet at the same time, his scent curls in you and feels like… a stilling too. Like someone entirely arrived at a place so familiar that they forget ever having arrived at all and can’t imagine leaving.

You dismiss it. You try. You fracture the moment. You must, before you collide.

“I hear you’ve had some informant woes? I hope to God we got the intel.” You feel him tense instantly against you.

“Uh-huh. I got it.” Santiago‘s not really listening. Instead, he’s dropping his eyes to your body pressed up against his own, the heels of his hands now kneading into your hips. “You look good.” His voice is a husk in the shell of your ear as he leans into you, ensuring he can be heard over the music.

“Good for Luci, breaking it off though.” You dismiss his compliment, barely able to obscure the animosity in your tone despite all attempts to sound casual.

He snaps back from you an inch or so, enough to look you directly in the eyes. You think that maybe, he looks almost disappointed. “Jealous?” he probes, ticking-up one eyebrow.

He knows you far too well. Yet, despite his on-the-mark observation, the question makes you feel called-out and so, your next tack becomes unnecessarily cruel. Vengeful almost. “He’s getting there.”

“What?” Santiago asks in evident confusion, his hands slipping back-up to the neutral area of your back as the mood slips away too.

“The tall drink of water at 9 ‘o’ clock. Guy who’s been eyeing me all night. Doesn’t he look like he wants his hands on me instead of yours?” You know that you sound cruel, and petty, and the words feel bitter, like salt and lime in your mouth. You’ve said them all the same though. It’s already done.

Santiago’s jaw clenches, eyes flicking subtly over as he rotates you to get a better look at your target.

“He does,” he states, with a thin attempt at neutrality, his neck roped with tension as his eyes skim over the other man.

“Great. Then thanks for the dance, Wingman. You’re relieved.”

Santiago puffs out air, his jaw clenching and eyes darkening.

You tick an eyebrow up at him. “What’s wrong? You jealous, Santiago?”

Then, you saunter towards the bar, where the other man is stood. He very blatantly gives you the once over, evidently liking what he sees. You lean in with a flirty smile, letting the image of an aggrieved Santiago dissolve into the throng of people as you allow yourself to be entirely distracted.

You are done waiting.

You want to be noticed, and this handsome man in front of you is certainly providing you with his undivided attention.

***

Later, Santiago watches you prepare to leave with the other man, disgruntled and forlorn. He’s watched you all night via snatched glances through the crowd. Watched the man laugh at your jokes, watched him work up the courage to brush your arm. He watched you eventually move in for the kiss, your eyes turning hungry as you pulled away, teeth biting down on that delicious, pillowy lip of yours.

The bar having quietened down a little by now, Santiago sits in a booth opposite Tom and Frankie, Will having found his own company for the remainder of the night as well. Santiago’s head is propped on his elbow, a half-empty beer nestled in his other hand. His buddies’ eyes needle him as you toss a casual salute over to the table, your hook-up leading you out by the hand and your eyes shining gleefully.

“What?” Santiago hisses defensively, as Frankie continues to stare knowingly at him from the opposite side of the table.

Frankie’s head simply shakes in amusement. “Nothing. Only… when in the hell are you gonna figure out it’s her you really want, huh?”

“She’s just a friend,” Santiago bristles, shifting uncomfortably in his seat, hunching in on himself.

“And a fuck-buddy,” Tom ventures.

Santiago looks down, taking a masking swig of his beer. “You know about that?”

“Didn’t until just now. But thanks a bunch for confirming,” Tom replies in a self-satisfied tone, earning a chuckle and a bump on the shoulder from Frankie.

“Well… fuck.” Santiago sighs, his face becoming pinched.

“I already knew,” Frankie states. “Christ. You’re loud enough, man. Hard to keep the secret that you’re nailing one of the squad when we’re camped out in, like, 3ft of jungle.”

Santiago absent-mindedly picks at the label on his bottle with his thumb. “Don’t talk about it like that, man. It’s not… Fuck.”

Frankie just looks across at him in sympathy, Santiago’s reaction revealing more than he probably cared to about the true extent of his predicament.

You’d risen through the ranks together. You’d been through a lot. Everyone on the squad knew Santiago was your ride or die and you his. You had each other’s backs. Had tended each other’s bullet wounds for Christ’s sake. Your friendship and the trust between you both -on the battlefield and off it- was deep and unshakeable.

“And you don’t want more than that?” Tom probes.

Despite being indoors, Santiago picks up his baseball cap from the seat and pulls it down over his eyes then, in an attempt to shield himself from this line of questioning.

“What ‘else’ is there? There’s not much time for romance in between a hail of bullets.”

“Maybe.” Tom tips his head, contemplatively. “But you’re not getting any younger, Pope. How many years do your Goddamn knees have left in them?” He lets that one simmer for a moment, before nodding pointedly towards the door through which you had retreated. “You could do a lot worse, you know.”

“She could do a lot better,” Frankie interjects, earning a snigger from Tom and causing Santiago to huff, expression turning surly. Frankie holds his hands up defensively then. “Look, you do you, man. I’m just saying... I’m sure you’re having a great time getting your dick wet all over the continent… but if you don’t step up soon? You might regret it.”

Santiago whips his eyes towards his buddy, gaze interrogative and piercing. “What does that mean?”

“Nothing in particular,” Frankie shrugs, searching Santiago’s eyes with equal vigour. Santiago drops his gaze first, feeling exposed.

Frankie kicks his buddy gently under the table. “Come on, hermano. Use your words. Share your feelings.”

Frankie’s words may sound mildly taunting, as ever, but Santiago recognises the invitation to open up is genuine. He purses his lips, brows knitting together as he resists it, picking through his choice of words carefully before he allows them out of his mouth. He massages his palm over his roughened jaw and it rasps like sandpaper. “I don’t even know if she wants more.”

“Are you kidding me, man?” Tom responds in amusement. “The guy who can get information out of a freakin’ stone, make any informant sing, ‘doesn’t know’ if she wants more? That’s what’s stopping you? A fucking intel issue?”

Frankie titters again, narrowing his eyes at Santiago and trying to figure him out. “He’s scared,” the man accuses, before his tone softens involuntarily. “That it?”

Santiago takes an idle swig of his beer, polishing off the dregs before shrugging his jacket on, jaw twitching in irritation.

“Oh shit, he’s moping! He’s moping now. Can’t handle the truth,” Tom mocks.

“Come on, Santiago,” Frankie reasons. “We just want things to work out for you. You two are a good match- any chump can see that. Heh. Except maybe you.”

Santiago doesn’t respond. Instead, he simply continues his silent preparations to leave, stuffing his wallet and keys into his jean pockets.

“Plus- there are a bunch of reasons we’d like you off the market,” Tom teases. “More women for the rest of us. Golden opportunity to tease you for being so whipped.” Tom flashes a shit-eating grin up at his friend.

Nodding gently, lips twisted in a pout and refusing to rise to it, Santiago tips his head towards his squad members. “Gentlemen,” he offers by way of farewell, before starting towards the door.

“Want me to walk you home safe, chiquito?” Frankie calls.

“I’m not going home.” Santiago turns and gives the two men an affectionate middle finger before beelining toward the exit.

“You’re not going over to her right now, are you? Pope? Santiago? That’s not what we... She’s gonna be pissed, man. Think this through!” Tom shouts after him, but it’s futile. Santiago has already swept out into the night, leaving Tom and Frankie to exchange helpless glances.

There is a beat.

Then: “I bet the bastard gets laid as well,” Frankie snorts.

“Right?” Tom hums softly in agreement. “If anyone can turn up to a girl’s apartment while she’s banging another guy and still end up getting down? It’s that little shit, no word of a lie.”

There is a moment of silence as the pair sip their drinks and contemplate what Santiago has, precisely, which causes women to become so enamoured with him.

“Maybe it’s his ass?” Tom offers, finally.

Frankie clicks his fingers. “Ah. You’re probably right. That ass won’t quit.”

Meanwhile, Santiago steps out into the fresh air, the slight bite of it taking the edge off his alcohol buzz.

His thoughts are overwhelmed with you. Have been overwhelmed with you. In truth, Santiago is finding it harder and harder to keep this up. Especially whenever it is just the two of you, he finds it harder and harder to resist you.

It is typically easier in the city, where there are plenty of distractions. He is grateful for it - other people he can tangle with to take his mind off of you. In the city, it is easier to push that side of you out of his mind and to fall back into the clear-cut ways. The way it used to be before the lines had become blurred. Easier to compartmentalise his feelings for you. A friend first. A soldier second. A lover, only intermittently.

Santiago was determined not to let everything bleed into one, because once those barriers, those delineations fell, he was convinced he would never be able to rebuild them.

Most of all, he was convinced he wouldn’t want to.

The thing is... the “distractions”? They never really worked for long. You are the only woman for him, in truth. And for all it might be crazy, he is headed towards your apartment right now to find out if you feel the same way. To find out if you want more. To find out if you see him as more than a friend and a soldier and a lover, or if you see him completely, and all at once.

To find out if he is everything to you, like you are to him.

***

There is a loud rap on your door and it tears you, regretfully, from the tangle of limbs you are in. When the knock becomes more insistent, you apologise to the man blissed out beneath you and extricate yourself from his embrace, hastily cloaking yourself in a sheet and traipsing through your temporary apartment – home for the time being. Adrenalin piqued, you peer through the spyhole, relief flooding you when you see who it is.

“Santi? What the fuck?” you ask, opening the door to him and pressing the sheet to you with your remaining hand.

“Hi,” he says casually, the brim of his baseball cap pulled down over his eyes.

“I’m in the middle of something,” you bite, emphatically. “What in the hell do you want?” you hiss at him, keeping your volume low.

“You,” he says plainly.

Santiago looks you over; your flushed face, plumped lips and blatant post-orgasm glow. His jaw visibly clenches.

“What?!” you exclaim in confusion.

“I want you.”

You tear his blasted hat off to examine his eyes for sincerity, pushing it into his chest all bunched-up. He hastily stuffs it in his jacket pocket. Eyes narrowed, you appraise him a moment longer, clicking your tongue in disbelief at the nerve this man has before abruptly closing the door on him.

“Bye, Santi.”

“Wait!” he pleads, jamming his foot in the door and muscling through.

“What in the hell are you doing?!” you hiss again, backing-up and almost tripping over your sheet, which Santiago now has his mucky boots all over.

By this time, your hook-up for the night has heard the commotion and blustered through the dark apartment -in the nude- to ward off your supposed intruder. Your companion is bigger, sure, but he certainly shouldn’t mess with Santiago. He wouldn’t fare well at all.

You raise your hand to diffuse the situation. “It’s ok, he’s a friend. Sometimes,” you add with a tilt of your head.

Your companion’s face flashes with recognition as Santiago emerges from out of the shadows. “Oh. It’s you, from the bar. Here I was thinking we’d gotten rid of you already.”

Santiago simply glowers with bubbling aggravation at the man, who has the cheek to just stand there with his fucking schlong out, entirely undeterred. Santiago puffs his chest out, making himself larger.

“Please.” Santiago addresses you, tearing his eyes away from the man. “Can we talk?”

You sigh, unable to believe that you’re being stupid enough to agree to his demands. You turn back to the man you were enjoying being on top of until a moment ago. “Can you give us five minutes? I’m so sorry. I’ll be back.”

“Well - she might not be back,” Santiago suggests, and you glare at him, irritated.

The man looks between you and Santiago in disbelief before addressing you only. “Sure,” he says with a languid, sultry smile, ignoring Santiago entirely. “I’m willing to wait if we get to continue the fun we were having.”

“Oh he’s a cheeky fuck,” Santiago grates, his whole body tense, and you quickly grab his elbow to bundle him into the kitchen before he can do any further damage.

“You’re the cheeky fuck, Santiago.” Apparently that’s your type. You vaguely wonder why you keep subjecting yourself to this, but you certainly don’t wish to pull on that thread too hard. Not right now.

As you release his elbow, Santiago comes to face you in the narrow slip of a kitchen.

“Well? What in the hell are you doing here?” you rage whisper at him, folding your arms across yourself and tapping your foot impatiently on the tiled floor.

Santiago simply squares up to you, his expression formidable, unphased. His dark eyes trail over you again, snagging on the places where the sheet drapes over the contours of you. You are suddenly uncomfortably aware of how naked you are beneath it. “Told you. I want you.”

Normally, those words were enough. But not any longer. You scoff. “I know all about how you want me, Pope. Half-heartedly. You want me when it suits you. When you can’t have me. When there’s no-one else around for you to want.”

It is his turn to scoff now. “Casual is what you wanted. You gonna throw that back in my face now?”

You sigh, tiredly, refusing to get embroiled in this. This is all meaningless. He can twist things and make excuses all he likes, but Santiago is a man of action. If he wanted you? Really wanted you? He wouldn’t let a Goddamn technicality stand in the way.

You don’t have the energy for excuses. For this conversation. You’ve waited too long for Santiago to even realise there is anything worth talking about. So, instead of fighting back, you let it go.

“I’m done, Santi. I’m out.”

Your words feel like a relief to you, after bottling this up since you came to the decision. The relief extends through your body as you sag backward to lean up against the cold fridge door, that too relieving on your hot, sheening skin.

“Don’t be so dramatic.” Santi dismisses your assertion instantly. He tended towards tunnel vision about some things. Just because he didn’t want out, he tended to assume that was true for everyone else. He was a connector, an enabler, and these factors combined meant the squad had stayed together a long time; far longer than it ever should have, like this time. He’d pulled his “retired” buddies back in, yet again.

“I’m for real, Santi,” you say in a small voice. “It’s already done.”

A veil of shock then betrayal passes over his face as the truth of your words sinks in. He takes a step back from you, as if he’s been sucker punched in the gut. His brows knit together and he looks down at the floor. “When?”

“Three weeks.” You figure you may as well rip the band-aid off in one go.

He turns his mouth down at the corners and slowly nods his head, doing an admirable job of containing whatever it is he is feeling, for the moment, while he gathers his intelligence. Mission above emotion, as ever. Santiago looks at the world through a scope sometimes, and he often forgets about the big picture. It always surprises you how a man so perceptive and attentive to detail -when he chooses to apply it- could fail to notice something right under his nose.

“Where?”

“Home. Desk-job, by the ocean. Private firm and a nice salary too. What’s not to love?” You add the extra information in an effort to detract from the thing you least wanted to face. Home is far. Far from him.

“Fuck,” Santiago breathes, finally looking up at you. “Because of me?”

You bristle again. “You arrogant piece of....” you sigh heavily, biting your lip and reminding yourself it isn’t worth it to grow aggravated. Plus, there’s a kernel of truth in his question, after all. You gather yourself before speaking again. “I stayed so long because of you, Santi. But I’m leaving for me. I’m tired of waiting.” Maybe he’ll notice you when you’re gone, you think. Maybe he’ll want you then.

“You can’t go. Someone with your skillset will be impossible to replace at short notice. How the hell am I supposed to keep the operation afloat without you?”

You shake your head softly, smiling in disbelief, his response confirming so many of your reasons behind going. Always focussed on the mission.

“Frankie’s looking into someone, actually. He knows a guy. He’s not as good as me, of course, but-”

“-You told Frankie?!” You can hear in his voice that the revelation hurts him. He has always been your confidant. But hey, things change, even if Santiago never does.

“Yeah, well,” you say thinly, through your teeth. “There’s plenty you don’t tell me, Santi.” You look at him pointedly. “Besides, I think you’ll manage. You always seem to find someone to meet your… needs. Don’t you?”

Santiago brings one arm up beside your head, leaning against the fridge with his palm, his dark eyes turbulent and boring into yours. “You’re the one who’s got some guy in there. What do you want from me, huh?”

He crowds you, but you can’t bring yourself to push him back. Instead, you languish more readily up against the fridge door, your grip on your sheet becoming less and less sure.

“Oh! That’s your fucking grand gesture? You came here to ask me what the hell I want from you?” Your passions rise, heart thrumming in your chest. You try and tell yourself it’s entirely from anger and nothing at all to do with his proximity. That it’s certainly not because of that look he’s giving you.

Speaking of proximity, Santiago’s now close enough to smell the other man’s scent on you. He’s leaning into you, breath ragged and desire clouding his eyes, even as you still bear the signs of being ravaged by another between your legs. Or perhaps… because of it.

Even as you stand here, like this, signs of another lover temporarily strewn over your person, it’s ludicrous to think another could claim you. You belong to Santiago. It’s Santiago who is indelibly written onto your body, the map of scars telling the story and you and him. The scar on your shoulder from a bullet wound, the scar on your calf from an off-road collision, the marks all over you serve as a reminder of the times Santiago has been there for you. Pressed his lethal hands to you to keep your lifeforce from ebbing away. He is your ride or die, and your body knows it.

Equally, as he stands there fully clothed, you know that his body similarly hosts a constellation of scars from all your shared moments; in the field, on missions, over continents. One of you could not hope to be read -to be understood- without the other. Your bodies would forever move through the world as a team, as a pair, even if you left his side.

You were each the key to cartographing each other’s lives. To imagine that the hickey on your neck or the slick between your legs could begin to compare to the way Santiago had marked you as his was almost comical.

“You really need a grand gesture to know I care about you?” You know what he’s asking. Is running into a hail of bullets for you not enough? Hasn’t he proven himself to you time and time again?

“Santi. I don’t doubt you care about me. I could never. I just… I don’t feel like you know yet what you want from me. And I can’t wait anymore for you to make up your mind.” You shrug. “I don’t know. I just feel like… like sometimes you don’t even see me because I’ve always been right in front of you.”

Santiago looks at you, pained, expression weighted, as if he can’t find the words to tell the story of you. But your bodies are not stories. They are maps, and maps are to be understood through being travelled. That’s why, when his hand slips to you shoulder to slowly trace the scar there, it makes sense. It is understood without words as his fingers journey over your skin, a varied terrain of memories flashing through Santiago’s eyes. His touch retracing years in only moments.

“I see you,” he insists, his voice a husk, his calloused fingertips trailing over your smooth, delicate skin. Making you feel weak. Making you want to become a soft, fluid thing beneath him. Oh, he’s looking at you now. There’s that attention that feels like it might end you. You commune wordlessly, breath quickening, that pulse of desire tending toward collision, the stillness of having arrived home as he touches you.

“I see you,” he purrs, his hand moving to your sheet, gently tugging it away from your grasp and giving you ample opportunity to protest. But you don’t. You don’t protest. You are symbiotic with him. You move as a team, and you can’t help but want to merge. Maybe that’s why you let him tug the sheet from your grasp, fabric pooling at your feet. Maybe it’s the ache between your legs. Maybe it’s because you know he gives it to you good.

Santiago exposes you completely to him, eyes then hands hungrily trailing down over your contours. His fingers grip your hips firmly as his mouth sinks into your neck, his hot breath fanning over you as he speaks.

“I see you, baby.”

Your arms are still pinned to your sides as you pretend that somehow you can resist your urges, despite being naked and needy and oh so ready in front of him.

“Fuck you, Santiago,” you breathe, voice trembling, and you know exactly what he’s doing as his lips and his teeth snag angrily over your skin. Reclaiming you. Marking you as his. And instead of pushing him away, you pull him closer to you. Instead of recoiling you arch your body against him, breasts pushing up against him, the cold metal of his chain harsh against your skin. The sturdy mass and heat of him beneath his clothes only highlighting how exposed and vulnerable you feel, your desire entirely on display like a flare in the dark.

His mouth has already ravaged your neck, your collarbone, his stubble abrasive against you, leaving a pleasant burn in its wake. His cologne is the only scent enveloping you now. Then, his hands rove over you, everywhere, like he’d wished they could in the bar, your skin still cloying, tacky with sweat. He paws at every bit of you as if to reinstate his claim on you. Your breasts, your ass, your hips, your thighs. He isn’t gentle. His hands showing their strength in a way they haven’t with you before now. He tongues your salty skin and the way his mouth punishes you is bitter like lime, foreshadowing his words.

“Did he make you come?” he asks into your neck, his hand slipping between your legs and finding you wet and welcoming. “Did he?”

“Yes,” you breathe, his voice commanding enough that you want to answer. Your face contorting as if in pain as Santiago continues to grind two girthy fingers over your folds. Your companion had made you wet, but nothing like this. All he’s doing is feeling you, coating himself, and Santiago has you drenched already; you can feel it slick against your inner thighs as you tremble under the weight of yourself, suddenly so heavy with lust that you can barely stand.

Your arms wind around his neck to steady yourself and he pins you between him and the fridge, your fingers inching up through the buzzed hair at his neck, nails trailing over his scalp and up into his grizzled curls as you finally become molten against him. Your hands fist in his hair and you tug his head up towards your lips, earning a grunt from him as pain needles across his scalp. The sound is growled into your mouth as his snarled kiss crashes against yours.

He’s frustrated, and he’s jealous, and he wants to show you that you’re his. What’s more, you want him to show you. Oh, how you want him to.

You shudder against the sudden blunt pressure of two of Santiago’s fingers at your entrance, your need urgent and a tightness building so immediately in your core. He pushes himself more firmly up against you, pinning you between his taut body and the fridge. His tongue ravages your mouth and your pleas for him to touch you become incoherent sounds that you work into him in return. His kiss is rough, his teeth scathing you, lips on yours in a crush, stubble grating at your chin and cheeks as he opens himself up as if to devour you. Then, he sucks your bottom lip in between his own and clamps his teeth down until you howl against the sting of it, bucking your body against the pain as you cry into his mouth.

With the bucking of your hips, you grind yourself against his hand, and Santiago barely needs to move as you willingly spear yourself on his fingers. He leaves you wanting though, allowing you just an inch of him when he has so much more to give. Already, the ridges of him against you are providing divine friction, his fingers curling and scissoring inside you, but he leaves you begging for more. Begging him to plunge himself all the way in.

“Did you think about me when you took him? Did you use him and wish it was me between your legs?” Santiago’s voice is like gravel in the shell of your ear, and his words curl into the depths of you. With them, he thrusts his fingers angrily into your heat, driving himself in all the way to the knuckle. Your eyes practically roll back into your head as he thrusts harshly and asks you again, even more insistent. “Did you?”

“Yes,” you admit, in a broken voice, tugging him closer to you, crushing your lips onto the column of his neck, tugging the collar of his shirt aside until you can bite down into the meat of his shoulder, stifling your moans there as his pace intensifies. His fingers are curling relentlessly towards your sweet spot and your walls are already fluttering against him. The heel of his hand is rocking against your excruciatingly sensitive clit, applying steady rolls of pressure as his fingers delve into you. His watch strap digs into your pubic bone but for some reason it only adds to the heightened sensations coursing through you.

“Do I make you feel good? Do I make you feel better with my fingers than he could with his whole body, huh?”

His words practically make you sob into him. It’s dirtier than you’ve ever heard him talk. It’s more intimate and further from friendship than anything you’ve done with him so far. Yes, you’ve fucked but this… this is something else. This is you admitting you are entirely his. This feels simultaneously more like battle and more like surrender than it ever has. And you wholly surrender.

You moan. You moan out loud despite the fact you shouldn’t. Despite the fact there’s still another man in the apartment who you had underneath you only moments ago.

“Are you gonna come on my fingers – show me who you belong to?”

You agree. You agree wholeheartedly.

Santiago pulls back just to watch you. To see the pleasure play over your face, both the overabundance of it and dearth of it as every touch satisfies yet has you craving more. You see a prideful glow in his eyes that he has you this wrecked, mewling and writhing on him as he adds a third finger into your wetness and pumps himself hard in and out of you.

“Fuck,” he intones, his voice hollowed-out. “You’re fucking drenched. Wettest I’ve ever felt.” God. You can hear how wet you are.

In dire need of some relief himself, Santiago presses his clothed, hardened length against your hip as he continues to pump his fingers in and out of you. Even through the substantial fabric of his jeans you can feel the thick, hard promise of him as he begins to grind himself against you, low and guttural moans escaping his sweet lips. The fact that he’s so fucking desperate for you, that you have made him hot enough to get off from only this has a knot tightening in the pit of you as you watch him start to unravel alongside you.

“Fuck, Santi,” you moan into the air, not even caring that there’s someone else in the apartment. Past caring about anything at all except your need for him to keep touching you, his fingers filling you up so well.

“That’s it, baby. Say my name, say you’re mine.”

Santiago is still grinding his clothed length against you, even as his fingers overflow with your essence. He dips his head into the crook of your neck and the growl he emits fans over your skin. Makes it sound as if he’s about to lose it too, simply from this. His spare hand dips down to collect one of your breasts and he lifts your nipple into his mouth, sucking and tonguing and biting the peak of you, squeezing you -not gently- as you topple towards your end.

He continues to grind against you, and the thought of him exploding in his pants for you tips you over the edge, his name tumbling from your lips over and over as you flutter and clench around his fingers. The feeling spreading outward through your body like an explosion, leaving you levelled, a resounding buzz reaching all the way to your extremities and whiting out your vision like a flashbang. Your fingers tangle in Santiago’s curls as you spasm against him, his fingers eking every last drop of pleasure from you - as though he knows his way around you better than anyone could.

At the feel and sound and sight of you coming undone, his hardened length grinds on you with renewed vigour, a wracked and disbelieving moan stuttering through him as he loses it without you having laid a finger on him. His body becomes stiff against you as he pulses his seed out beneath his clothes. Something about him being so lost in desire for you that he’d make a mess of himself like that has you clenching with deep, generous aftershocks, adrift with the thought of his hardened length pearling with his warm release.

Santiago’s head settles into the crook of your neck as you both come down together, even as his fingers continue to lazily pulse in and out of you - just to feel you. Your arms lovingly cradle his head, fingers tangling in his curls, your lips finding their way to his hairline to plant gentle kisses there. Your Santiago. In your arms.

You stay there a moment until your jagged breathing and thrumming heart settle, enjoying him languorously touching you. With a shiver of contentment, he withdraws from your heat, wrapping his unsullied hand around your waist to pull you closer.

For a moment, everything is in soft focus, like the break of day before an alarm. You close your eyes against his touch and breathe him in as he whispers lovingly into your neck, planting light kisses where a moment ago his puckered lips left angry bruises.

“Fuck. I love you. I love you. I adore you. I need you.”

When you don’t respond though, Santiago stills against you, lifting his head to look you dead in the eyes. He finds them tearing in the corners.

Your voice begins weakly. “You love me, Santi. But do you want a life with me? A life outside of the mission, outside of all of this?”

He brushes his thumb softly over your jawline. “I know I haven’t been all in. But I swear it to you, baby... you’re my end game. It’s just, we’re not there yet. We’re too deep in this shit. If we can get one more of Lorea’s deputies then maybe-”

“-Sure,” you say sadly, the word heavy and the intimacy of the moments prior dissipating quickly. You know fine well what “one more” means. You dip to collect your sheet from the floor and tighten it around yourself, using the motion in a vague attempt to distract both Santiago and yourself from the tears threatening more violently in your eyes now.

The footsteps you hear approaching the kitchen are a further welcome distraction, and you surreptitiously clean off Santiago’s hand on the already soiled sheet before your first companion of the evening (now fully clothed) pops his head around the doorframe.

“I’m just gonna leave,” he interjects awkwardly, and your cheeks flush in humiliation. You’re sure one day, far into the future, this may be a funny story you tell, but, right now? It feels more than a little mortifying.

“I’m so sorry. I…” You reach for a more robust apology but come up with nothing, far too aware that Santiago’s eyes continue to needle you. What are you going to do? Tell him it was fun? And so, since you opt to leave it hanging, your companion simply pumps his eyebrows once before striding smoothly out of your apartment. You jump slightly as you hear the door slamming shut behind him, evidently feeling a little on edge despite being wrung out so recently by bliss.

Your eyes linger on the doorframe a little too long, staring at nothing except the now vacated space. You’re not ready to turn your attention back to Santiago quite yet, and you’re much less ready to deal with what will follow.

It turns out, you don’t even have to look back at him, because your cowardice says it all for you. Instead, a small voice escapes him.

“You’re still gonna go, aren’t you?”

You look at him then, and you see a sadness blooming in his eyes which is so heart-breaking that you're half-glad when tears gather in your own, blurring-out the sight of him. His pain always was too much for you to look at.

Your gladness is short-lived however, as your own tears begin to spill out of you. You wipe the deluge away with the heel of your hand, but the tears are coming quicker than you can mop them up. Your chest shakes as you speak your next words.

“I love you, Santi. Believe me. I love you. But it’s always ‘just one more’.” One more woman. One more mission. One more way to break your heart. “You’re living like... like you can get to the end of the line and wish for one more fucking chance.”

“Don’t go. Please,” he pleads, moving close to you and wrapping his arms around you. His broad, warm hands at your back. “Please. I’m putting it on the line here. I want you. I love you.”

You smile thinly at him. You know he’s trying and God, you love him too. But this? For you, it’s too little, too late. For him, you guess you’re asking for too much, too soon. He’s not ready to leave this life. He’s not even ready to imagine leaving it. But, oh boy, you are. You are.

You sniffle and take a deep, steadying breath, giving it everything you have to stay firm, despite every fibre in you telling you to surrender. To just stay with him. It would be too easy to do.

“It’s a hard out, Santi.”

He senses the finality of your words and nods slowly, his eyes shining with tears, his whole face becoming taut with emotion. His silence is prolonged as he draws in ragged breaths. His hands slip away from your back and the moment slips away with them. You miss the warmth of them instantly.

“Okay,” he says in a small, curt voice. “Okay.”

He about turns, precise and efficient, swivelling towards the door and tracking along the hallway leading out of your apartment.

“Santi, wait!” you call, traipsing along after him, slowed by the material bundling at your feet. “Santiago Garcia, don’t you dare leave it like this,” you plead. “Not after everything.”

He turns his head back towards you as he swings open your front door. His eyes are cold, face set as he looks at you, his voice monotone. “I’m not the one leaving.”

An anger and a sadness erupt in you at the coldness, the cruelness of his words, and, apparently, not even the sight of the fresh batch of tears spilling down your cheeks can slow his retreat from your apartment.

Santiago “Pope” Garcia turns and swiftly walks out without looking back, leaving the door swinging violently on its hinges. The fucking nerve of this man.

You start after him; but he’s already making his way down the stairwell and you’re in no position to chase him. Your pain boiling over you yell, voice creaking under the weight of your emotion.

“I hope your fucking knees give out on the way down, you asshole.”

Your cruel, cheap words carry down the stairwell, yet an echo is all the response you get. Santiago is gone. He didn’t stop for a second.

He doesn’t know how to stop.

He’s mission over emotion. Near-death over living. He’s seemingly in this until it kills him, but you can’t be in it anymore. You have always been his ride or die, but now is the time for you to live, even if that means you can no longer be side-by-side with him.

He is the other half of you and no matter where you are to go, your bodies will move through the world as a team, one unable to be read without the other. Santiago is written all over you, and nothing can change that.

Besides, you know if he really wants to, he can always come find you. He has a map for loving you, if he would ever follow the route it was trying to take him. But he’s not there yet.

He just has one more mission to go.

And then the next.

And the next.

#santiago pope garcia x reader #santiago garcia x reader #triple frontier #oscar isaac

241 notes · View notes

clarionglass · 5 months ago

Text

gang,,,,, gang. i am honestly still reeling from The game changer account reblogging the comic,,,, my god. my god.

for newcomers: welcome! thank you for being here!! for those who may have only seen the part of the fic linked to the comic, this is part 6 in the series (because truly i cannot stop myself). all the other parts are linked in the lil game master cinematic universe blurb i've got down the bottom of the post, and the whole thing is now on ao3!

and speaking of my lil blurby thing, if anyone else wants to play around in the game master cinematic universe, tag me so i don't miss it and i'll add whatever you make to the list!! and if you just want to chat about the crossover, hit me up! truly i am so happy to have as many people playing in this sandbox as want to be here :D

but anyway, without further ado:

a selection of correspondence (game master cinematic universe, part 6) | read on ao3

From: Sam Reich (@dropout.tv) To: Group <Dropout cast and crew> Subject: Announcements and info

Hi all,

Just a quick announcement that we have a new member of the team joining us at Dropout! Some of you have met him already, although you may not have realised it—he worked on A Game Most Changed and Escape the Greenroom in season 5, and Bingo, Deja Vu, Beat the Buzzer and Sam Says 4 in season 6, doing some of the hosting in my place.

And before you ask how that can be, this man is my exact doppelganger! He’s a time traveling alien who, for the moment, we are calling Other Sam, because we’ve agreed that the name he’s chosen is not exactly appropriate in a workplace setting. He’s here on a kind of rehabilitation program, as shows like Game Changer provide the sort of enrichment that he needs, without him having to resort to things like planetary conquest and murder. We also have him to thank for our new studio—he has kindly allowed us to use his (currently grounded) spacetime machine to record in, seeing as he did blow up our original studio. On an operational basis, nothing should have changed with the studio, but I do recommend you don’t go poking around in cupboards, just in case.

I promise on everything dear to me that this is not a joke.

I hope you’ll all make Other Sam feel welcome! So there’s minimal confusion between the two of us, he and I will be taking care to differentiate ourselves (he says he will try and look, in his words, “more evil”, although I’ll admit I’m not quite sure how that will work).

Series leads and producers, if you would like to include Other Sam in one of your shows, please let me know. He’s a lot of fun to work with, and he’s promised us his best behaviour, so I can guarantee there will be none of the aforementioned planetary conquest and murder. Of course, the wellbeing of all Dropout cast and crew is my highest priority, so if any of you are not comfortable working with him, please let me know as well, and production and I will ensure you are not cast in the same episodes. In future seasons of Game Changer, we will be sharing the hosting duties, so if you’re on an episode, it’ll be made clear which of us you’ll be working with.

On a related note, you know I hate being the bearer of bad news about mandatory seminars, but there is a training seminar next Monday on psychic defence techniques. This seminar is a requirement if you’re going to be working with him, and even if you’re not planning on that, I’d strongly advise coming along anyway.

As always, if you’ve got any questions, don’t hesitate to get in touch!

Cheers, Sam

---

[Note: many responses with the general sentiment of “what the fuck?!” have not been included in the selection of return correspondence.]

---

From: Brennan Lee Mulligan (@gmail.com) To: Sam Reich (@droput.tv) Subject: Re: Announcements and info

I need this man in the dome immediately.

---

From: Siobhan Thompson (@gmail.com) To: Sam Reich (@droput.tv) Subject: Re: Announcements and info

Hi Sam,

Many thanks for your email, and for letting us know about Other Sam. You don’t need to confirm or deny this, but I’m assuming he did something to us during the Deja Vu recording. I haven’t felt entirely comfortable around you since then, and until now I haven’t been able to find a logical reason why. You mentioned psychic defence techniques in your email, so I take it that there was some kind of mental fuckery involved—perhaps a memory wipe?

I don’t know what he did, and I’m not sure I want to know, but whatever it is, I don’t think it’s good. I would very much appreciate it if I don’t have to work with him.

Best wishes, Siobhan

---

From: Grant O’Brien (@gmail.com) To: Sam Reich (@droput.tv) Subject: Re: Announcements and info

Hey Sam,

I’m already digging up info for a Breaking News segment. There’s someone on reddit called scarfytwin who says they might be able to give us some good info, but I might need to sign a few things first? Looks like it’s tangled up in some British government stuff, which is wild. Sounds juicy, whatever it is, and I reckon it would be good payback…

Best, Grant

---

From: Lou Wilson (@gmail.com) To: Sam Reich (@droput.tv) Subject: Re: Announcements and info

Man, are you telling me that Samuel Dalton was kind of a real fucking thing?? No way. If you let me punch him *hard* one time I’ll go on any show with him.

Cheers, Lou

---

From: Brian David Gilbert (@gmail.com) To: Sam Reich (@droput.tv) Subject: Re: Announcements and info

Hi Sam,

This explains a lot about the weird feelings I’ve been having since Deja Vu! I know something terrible probably happened during that recording, but I’d love to just sit down with Other Sam and have a chat. Do you recommend we just meet in a professional context, or would that be something you’re able to organize?

Thanks, Brian

---

From: Zac Oyama (@gmail.com) To: Sam Reich (@droput.tv) Subject: Re: Announcements and info

Cool.

---

From: Ally Beardsley (@gmail.com) To: Sam Reich (@droput.tv) Subject: Re: Announcements and info

Absolute freak behavior and i love this for you, sign me up for anything!

---

From: Mike Trapp (@gmail.com) To: Sam Reich (@droput.tv) Subject: Re: Announcements and info

Hi Sam,

Huh, that sure explains some things. This will probably be cool in future, but for right now, I think I need to do a bit of processing. I’ll let you know!

Cheers, Trapp

---

From: Vic Michaelis (@gmail.com) To: Sam Reich (@droput.tv) Subject: Re: Announcements and info

Hi Sam,

Intriguing! If you think he’d be up for the prosthetics, I’d love to have either of you on Very Important People next season. Both of you together would be even better!

Vic

---

From: Lily Du (@gmail.com) To: Sam Reich (@droput.tv) Subject: Re: Announcements and info

Hey Sam,

I’ve had a chat to Grant, and I would love to put this guy on Dirty Laundry. Grant says he’ll share what he finds out from the reddit person with me, and we might be able to make a good episode happen.

Cheers, Lily

---

From: Sam Reich (@dropout.tv) To: Other Sam Reich (@dropout.tv) Subject: Fwd: Announcements and info

Well, most people seem to have taken it well! Looks like we’ll be having some fun…

---

From: Other Sam Reich (@dropout.tv) To: Sam Reich (@dropout.tv) Subject: Re: Fwd: Announcements and info

“Not exactly appropriate in a workplace setting”?

---

From: Sam Reich (@dropout.tv) To: Other Sam Reich (@dropout.tv) Subject: Re: Re: Fwd: Announcements and info

We discussed this. You agreed.

---

From: Other Sam Reich (@dropout.tv) To: Sam Reich (@dropout.tv) Subject: Re: Re: Re: Fwd: Announcements and info

I most certainly did not. I said “hm”. “Hm” does not count as agreement.

---

From: Sam Reich (@dropout.tv) To: Other Sam Reich (@dropout.tv) Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Fwd: Announcements and info

You do know this is a group of people who I can guarantee, on hearing the word “Master”, would react the exact same way Grant did?

---

From: Other Sam Reich (@dropout.tv) To: Sam Reich (@dropout.tv) Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Fwd: Announcements and info

Fine. “Other Sam” it is.

---

missed an installment of the game master cinematic universe?

original idea by @ace-whovian-neuroscientist: x

art by @northernfireart concept: x scissor sisters sketch: x sam and his doppelganger: x escape the death beam: x

by @bloopdydooooo drawing collection: x

writing by me (!) part one (escape the greenroom): x part two (deja vu): x part three (sam says 4): x part four (you think you know someone): x part five (point and counterpoint): x part six (a selection of correspondence): you are here!

#game master #sam reich!master #doctor who #dw #game changer #dropout #the master #i'm not going to character tag other than that bc truly there are so many characters in this with single lines and that'd just be tag spam #also i cannot believe i am writing this but #if you are from dropout. and you stumble across this.#please do not tell me that this isn't how these people email #i know it isn't. but i am playing with these carefully created comic personas like dolls #and the last thing i need is for the real world to intrude on this very silly bit of fun #my god. smh my head.#anyway for those who are missing my usual prose: part 7 is in the works! ft. brian david gilbert #i have 5 hours on a train tomorrow so gdocs will be Open

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comicaurora · 10 months ago

Note

These have been pent up for a while, so there's a whole list lol. Some are Aurora, some are not.

1) Can lacrimas carry out multiple purposes at once? Or will they blend them? I'm assuming that this is possible, considering that the automaton in the ruins was using a lacrima as a brain

2) Has anyone tried to make tools or weapons out of lacrimas? I'm talking like chisel that needs no hammer. Or maybe a Fire lacrima on a bow that sets your arrows on fire

3) Can you engrave runes on lacrimas to make them affect themselves?

4) Where can I read more about the Twins? If I'm not wrong they're the creator gods, aided by the Light dragon and the Void dragon to create life, but I might be getting a wrong read on that

5) Since we see Erin successfully become the first Void mage, does that now mean there's potential for him to make a Void lacrima? The dragon probably won't allow it, but still

6) What exactly does elemental corruption of each element do? Fire literally burns you up, as we saw in Arc 1. I can infer that Life likely makes you a chimera. Void corruption makes you a cave crawler. But what do the other one do? Does Earth make you a statue? Does Wind disintegrate you, Thanos style?

7) Now onto the non-Aurora questions, is your art vector or raster? I believe it's vector, but it's always better to confirm

8) What are your opinions on reading into the environment and the character design to infer things about the character themselves? In any type of media

9) Have you played Baldur's Gate 3?

10) Do you have any music that you'd recommend? I've listened to every song I liked so many times that I hate them now.

11) I'm new to Tumblr, anything that I should know? You don't have to answer this one if you don't wanna. I think I know some of the basics already. Reblog what you like, and avoid the terfs, right?

You might be able to tell that I like the idea of the lacrimas a little bit. Just a teensy bit. The artificer in me definitely isn't obsessed. I appreciate any answers you can give :3

Cheers!

Ooh, lots of stuff!

Yes, it's possible. A lacrima can be engraved with multiple spells, set in a casing engraved with commands, or some combination of the two. Typically, all spells engraved directly on a lacrima will activate at once when the lacrima is "switched on", but a spell can be quite complex, and conditional activations are possible - "if-then-else" statements, basically.

Yes, magic items exist.

Generally no. If the lacrima is disrupted or broken, the spell generally stops functioning, so a self-affecting lacrima will run only as long as it takes for the lacrima to distort or break.

There's an extra lore page about them!

He probably could if he wanted to (and the Dragon allowed it) but Void energy is very dangerous, so he likely doesn't want to.

Each form of elemental corruption agitates the presence of the element in the mage's body. Earth corruption can damage or alter bones, encourage unhealthy petrification of soft tissues, etc. Wind corruption can have physical effects but it often most obviously produces breakdowns in the person's ability to speak or understand language. Lightning damages, numbs or intensifies a person's physical senses.

Raster, I draw with CSP's digital pens. I've only very briefly experimented with vector art - I don't like how it simplifies the lines.

I think it's a fun school of analysis but, like all literary analysis, it runs into trouble if it tries to lock down exactly what the writer was thinking or intending (which is an objective fact that one can be incorrect about) rather than trying to analyze the story on its own and what meaning might, intentionally or unintentionally, be factoring into it.

Nope

don't trust my taste in music it's 90% nu metal and sonic OSTs

Like what you like, reblog what you want, generally it's considered dubious form to add a comment to a reblog unless you have something profound to contribute (commenting in the tags is fine), steer clear of discourse and callout posts and generally the sectors of the site that are constantly on fire, blocking someone for any reason is 100% fine

#asks #aurora #not aurora

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gg-astrology · 2 months ago

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🙇‍♀️💕💕

hello!! i hope you're all doing well!! i'm sorry i didn't come with good news, but to offer apologies because i think i'll have to leave this blog officially inactive/discontinued now.. 😭

i know it doesn't actually make a difference considering it's been inactive for quite a few years, but officially!! as in i won't be logging onto here + letting it go, i won't be answering asks (thank you for sending them/I'm sorry i couldn't answer them on time at all!!) - maybe I'll post a few astrology stuff occasionally, but I'm essentially in the retirement home era of this blog now...

i don't think i can continue writing posts or being active, it takes alot of time/energy to commit to running a blog. I love the interactions, research, talking and discussing with everyone on here. But I'm trying to be more balanced with my life and sadly i dont think i have the time to commit to running a blog this heavy-loaded again...

i won't terminate, gg-astrology will still exist!!💗 i know this place holds a lot of fond memories not just for me. you can still come back to posts, read them again or use them as resources if you like. It'll continue to be up because there's so many good memories here.

Again, thank you so much for everything!! I'm really touched every time i log on to see how you're all interacting and im always so so proud and overwhelmed by how genuine and encouraging everyone is to one another!!

You're all so lovely everywhere, always polite, considerate and kind - in my asks, replies, reblog tags and mentions. I've seen a few whenever I catch them, please know it touches me deeply to know you guys are so gentle to each other, always!!

Thank you so much for always being the best group of people ❤ Not just to me, i love you and i hope you have a good life! Please live well!! I'll be cheering you on!! ❤❤

#this is good bye!#i'll keep the ask box open incase you want to use it to talk to yourself #like a confessional?#i dont know sorry im not christian #but yeah! i hope you guys are well and if you want to link up uhhh lmk ill reach out or something #but im glad we have good memories here

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drowsystarlight · 3 days ago

Note

oooh wait MORE asks I am a fan of these ask games they rock (all of these are about Five again cause I know them, but if you give me a crash course in your OCs from other places even if I'm not in the fandom I would be Very Happy :D nothing quite like losing your mind over your own fictional characters, is there?)

🧡 - Is your oc honest? Why or why not? Are there only specific people they’re honest to?

🌇 - What does it take for your character to trust someone? Do they have to prove themselves? Or does your character not trust anyone no matter what? What made them this way? (I know parts of this from Heartbeat but I'd love to hear more!)

🍁 - What brings your character joy? Do they find happiness in the small things? Does it take a lot to cheer them up?

🥕 - How does your character treat themselves after a long day? Do they buy something new? Maybe they eat a sweet treat? Call someone they love? Take a hot bath?

✴️ - Is there anyone your oc admires or looks up to? What qualities of this person does your oc admire? Do they want to be like this person one day?

also your art is the prettiest thing ever and while rn I'm Broke one day I WILL buy a commission from you because your art really is amazing and I love it so so much

AYYEEEE NO WORRIES I LOVE FIVE ASKS!! my ocs are here and there and i havent had the time to yap bout them recently so maybe someday >;3 THANK U FOR THE ASKS!!! <3

🧡 - Yes and no . There's only specific people they're honest to, and 9 times out of 10 they have no problem with lying to a stranger about something . They don't trust people that easily, or at all :3 However they will tell you the truth about it months later if they get close

🌇 - AHHH YOU READ HEARTBEAT YIPPEE!!! theres a whole another chapter in my file but i havent drawn anything for it so im keeping it there for now LMFAO,,, anyway, it doesnt take much pther than time and kindness . it doesnt matter if Five likes or dslikes you, eventually theyll form a more solid opinion of someone and they can earn their trust by then :3 My Five was alone for years before the start of the ZR series . being alone, lonely, and isolated for so long does that to you </3

🍁 - Don't tell anybody else . Cats . ANY cat, real or not

🥕 - Unfortunately they don't . Five thinks rest is a treat . it's not a treat and its a normal basic human need . They learn this from Abel people eventually--by that time, they treat themself with some sweets :DD

✴️ - Janine . They love that she's a leader and is put together, knows what she's doing, etc etc . They admire her for being strong and stern and level-headed . They also admire Maxine and Sam for being kind and warm people... Also Yes. They want to be like them someday

THANK YOU!!! RAHHGH,,, i always see your reblogs and notes and tags and it always fills my heart with warmth,,, it means so much to me especially now that im suffering thru my art college thesis,,, WAHGDSH

#neeks does a talking #asks answered #neeks inbox #ask games #zombies run #sam yao #runner five #ehhehehe #i love zr i miss zr

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lixenn · 6 months ago

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I really wanna read your fic and start engaging in the fandom more especially with oc stuff but I am so so scared bc of past experiences and fear possibly offending someone... Plus reading is actively hard for me due to untreated ADHD... Do you maybe have a tip of how i could start small? I see people i follow mention you quite often.

Wow, it’s so sweet that you came to me for advice anon! 🥺🥺 I feel super honored and very flattered that you want to read my story. I’m going to try my best to help you out 💪🏼(also great job on reaching out, have a gold star ⭐)

This might be a bit long I hope that’s okay (I ramble a lot, I apologize in advance). I will also structure this in parts so it’s not as overwhelming.

---

Engagement in fandom

I feel you Anon, interacting with people is hard. I’ve lurked on tumblr for years before I recently crawled out of my gremlin cave and started to actually talk to fandom folk. But worry not, Lix is here to help! I like gamifying difficult aspects of life (looking at you chores), so I have come up with this analogy:

Approach interaction like you are in a game with different levels. Here are some levels I made up (of course you can always adjust however you want)

Level 0 just scrolling through posts, no interaction at all

Level 1 Liking posts

Level 2 Reblogging posts without tags or text

Level 3 Reblogging posts with general tags

Level 4 Reblogging posts with personal tags

Level 5 Reblogging posts with your own text plus tags or Replying to posts

Level 6 Participation in ask games as anon

Level 7 Participation in ask games with anon off

How does it work?

You establish your baseline: for example you are usually at Level 1

You set a goal you want to achieve: for example you want to participate in ask games with anon off

You then start the game by taking a babystep into the next level: in this example you start reblogging posts with no tags or text (so level 3)

You spend some time on the next level until you are comfortable with doing this sort of interaction

Then you go to the next level

Repeat this until you have reached your level goal

Again this is just an example of how you can approach fandom interaction. I just wanted to show you that taking babysteps for interaction is totally okay!

There’s no need to immediately jump into a full on fandom discussion about your favourite character. Break the huge goal into small parts to make it less overwhelming (I’m sure I’m not the first person telling you this 😅). Also it’s totally fine if there are set backs, some days replying to posts might feel like the biggest chore on this planet and there’s no need to force yourself into doing it! Keep your own pace, this is not a sprint, but a marathon Anon! And I’m here to cheer you on!

How to interact

So, you have reached the level of interaction where you actively engage with other people. Congrats! ✨🎉You are doing great. But now you are stomped on how to interact, which again here are a couple options:

Ask questions. Honestly, that was how I started interacting and it’s still my go-to these days. Asking questions shows that you are invested, that you are curious and writers, artist and bloggers appreciate these kind of interactions a lot. I like questions about my ocs because they often help with character building and sometimes it even inspires a scene for me to write. It’s great! You can also just start small here, it doesn’t need to be deep. You can ask about an ocs favourite colour or just how the writing is going or if the other person likes cats. For real, even small mundane questions make my day, go wild!

Compliments. You see a fanart and think it’s beautiful? Put that in the tags! You like the vibe of this one oc? You can write that in a reblog. Again, start small and it doesn’t need to be poetry, a simple “I like this!” is fine and dandy!

As for the offending bit…

I can also understand the fear of offending, especially if you had bad experiences. For me it’s mostly anxiety that fucks me over.

But I think unless you dabble into super controversial topics you shouldn’t be too scared. Just present everything respectfully or as a headcanon, then you should be good to go (people can disagree with your headcanons but that doesn’t make it offensive, it’s just a difference in opinion).

Furthermore if you are scared of doing something the other person won't like you can always reach out in DMs to clarify if they are comfortable if you ask something with xy topic.

Also keep in mind that people might not instantly reply back. Maybe they don’t have the spoons, maybe irl is being a bitch, maybe they are on vacation with spotty internet, maybe their laptop exploded or maybe they simply have a goldfishbrain like me and forgot. The possibilities are endless but that doesn’t mean they hate you. I know the nasty little voice in the back of our heads often try to convince ourselves of that but it’s not true, people are sometimes just busy.

Reading

Now, I don’t have ADHD so I’m not sure if I can give good advice here, but I will try my best!

You could start with short works if you struggle with longer stories. Oneshots are great! So are works with short chapters. Shameless self promo here: My fanfic the Varia Housekeeping survival guide (short the Guide) has super short chapters (most are one DIN A4 page).

Of course you can always split up chapter into chunks. There’s no need to read 5K works in one sitting. Take your time. If the format bothers you, maybe you prefer reading in a certain font, then you can also just copy the text in a document and change it to something you can easily read (as long as you just use that copy for your own private purposes, it should be fine.)

Some popular fanfics also have podfics if the actual reading bit is hard on you, that limits your options a bit but it’s a way to start.

---

Well, this got long as hell. I hope any of these ramblings are useful to you and that I didn’t totally overwhelm you with text.

Stay strong Anon! You can do the people thing! I believe in you!

#ask answered #how to do the people thing

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aelaer · 2 years ago

Note

Just saw your post about having to block the doctor strange x reader tag, and I must agree it's become the predominant DS fic that comes up as recommended on my feed as well. There are several authors I enjoy reading in that category (although lately the overall amount of fics is overwhelming), but I only started writing them myself as my stephen x ofc fics could never gain a bit of traction. I have a theory that if I went back and changed my ofc's to reader inserts, I'd probably gain a lot more readers--but I can never bring myself to doing that as I wouldn't be true to myself as an author.

I suppose that's just a writerly woe I'm sharing with someone who might understand.😏 But I'm curious; are you open to reading non-romance fics featuring original characters? I've found that tumblr can be quite snobbish towards that species of fic.

I wanted to reply to this ages ago but it requires my computer and some thinking, so I kept pushing it off again and again and again and whelp, here we are. My bad. ><

I'm the same way where being true to myself as an author is writing what I want, so I get you there. Doesn't get As Much Engagement as other tropes would, but y'know what, I can live with that. If anything, I've actually found that the fic I compromised most on (because it was for a themed exchange) is one I want to reread the least. So if anything, a lot of me writes for "do I want to reread this in the future" and that has helped me since.

It's funny since OFC romances used to be pretty popular way back when, but I guess "reader" took over that audience over the last decade because the majority of the people just wanted to insert themselves into the position instead of reading about a full-fleshed character? Honestly not sure.

Right, I keep delaying the reason I took so long to get back to you - non-romance fics with OCs. The answer, by the way, is yes. Great OCs are fantastic, but you don't tend to see many OCs outside of romance, or you only see them as side characters in another pairing's fic. They don't often have starring or co-starring roles. But I wanted to find examples with great OCs which would take time.

And now I'm taking that time. Here's some good OC-starring fics that I scoured through the tag. They're difficult to find. I had to smudge that requirement after a while. Then I gave up after I got to 2 years back in the tag.

Some of the stories that I know have very good OCs are also IronStrange, but I know that's not your cup of tea so I left it out. But I found a handful.

Keshwyn was the author that came to mind when you originally sent this ask, but I wanted to have more than one author when I wrote this. Read their series, highly recommend, top-tier OCs across the whole spectrum, with the main star being female.

This fic by LexLemon is technically PalmerStrange, but the OCs are her parents, so it's basically a delight in my eyes as Stephen's fish-out-of-water act is always funny to me.

Dragonnan writes good OCs, usually the mean sort though, the ones who hurt Stephen rather than befriend him (male and female lmao), but if you're in a whumpy mood at some point...

This isn't technically an OC, but I don't know the character from the comics, so she's an OC to me! This Stephen's new apprentice is Casey Kinmont fic by Stratagem. They just updated recently too, need to cheer them on at some point.

*sigh* Sorry love, I ran out of good OC fics that didn't have background/primary IronStrange that I could find/remember. But yeah. There's some fic/author recs.

(If anyone wants to add to the list, feel free to leave a comment or reblog. I was avoiding IronStrange for the asker in particular but I don't think the asker sees reblogs so go for it if you'd like).

Also, I love the OCs that I've come up with for my various stories in both LOTR and the MCU. I'll ramble all about them if you (or someone) wants me to, quite happily.

Hope that answers the question/reason for the ask, mostly.

#sobeautifullyobsessed #ask #answered #fic recs #stephen strange #fanfic #yes give me a reason to just write an essay about my ocs lmao #all the rp ones in particular were really well loved

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robo-mox-motley · 2 years ago

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[Video ID: Gorg, a tall blue mech, runs forward brandishing the blunt grip end of his tank gun. He lifts the whole long gun upwards by the barrel before striking down on the top of a tank. The original sound of the tank being hit is replaced with a coconut bonk stock sound. End ID.]

Always Gorgin' time at Mox(ter)'s

Mox(ter) reporting. Firm believer that Pink Lady apples are superior to Honeycrisp. These are some things you might want to know. Or not, your choice ┐⁠(⁠´⁠ー⁠｀⁠)⁠┌

Things that keep me up at night:

The camaraderie of the Autobots in Armada.

This loser

How some versions of Ironfist are supposed to sound Aussie. Try rereading Last Stand of the Wreckers like that.

Tokyo Ska dropping a new song.

Trying to make up transforming figures in my head that don't exist for certain characters and getting annoyed the next morning. Only thing stopping me is lack of access to a resin printer.

I have been a bot nerd since I was an anklebiter chewing on those cheap rubber bracelets. Mostly gung-ho about other stuff like practical effects, costuming, figures/models, 3D modelling, old tech, lizards, and birding. I do art a little too, but I’m not too fond of the idea of putting it out on here quite yet. ←Saying this as I have an art blog with no art on it to speak of lol.

Couple years of Spanish under my belt but also picking up and learning bits of Japanese and Welsh when I can. Considering others like Yoruba and Korean for in the future, but I suck sometimes and can be a slow learner. Someday, I guess. I apologize beforehand if you see my dumb ass getting long-winded about Tailgate (full reason being too long to explain here).

I’m generally invested into anything related to toy design—mostly TakaraTomy, HasTak, and Sunrise bot stuff is my focus though. I am hooked on the design development surrounding Binaltech and Alternators for better or worse.

And wouldn't you know, a bunch of car robots helped me to realize what I should re-prioritize my career track to be. That's the power of my dumb interests at work ( •̀ .̫ •́ )✧.

Got tired of updating which music artists I like at the moment, but I tend to stick to ELO, Tokyo Ska Paradise Orchestra, hip hop, rock, metal, J-punk, ska, funk, and EDM. I don’t mind getting music recs.

Delighted owner to my little shit of a gecko. A lot of what I reblog is aesthetic posts, robotic nonsense, and other things. If you want to go ahead and block some of my tags, I’ve got a list of them linked in my pinned post. I try to put alt text in the majority of images I upload. May need a poke on that once in a while because I can’t remember everything.

Sometimes there's 18+ content though that's once in a blue moon and it gets tagged. Block the tag if you need to. Also be normal about bi and pan people, or I'm conking you on the head.

Please do not ask me my pronouns. Like sorry, but I don’t know you. Just use my name and no they/them-ing me if we aren't all too familiar. That's all I ask.

Don’t be stupidly obnoxious around here. Shit-stirrers get Gorg'd:

Things I like or have watched/read. Not exhaustive. Strong favorites are bolded.

Games

Bomb Rush Cyberfunk

Destiny (Well, it was good up until every update following Witch Queen)

Fallout 1, NV, 4

Guilty Gear ΛC+, Strive

Halo

Lethal League Blaze

Mass Effect

Rhythm Heaven

Subnautica

Titanfall

Comic Stuff

Astro Boy

Atomic Robo

Dai Dark

Dorohedoro

Hellboy/BPRD

IDW Transformers

Kaiju No. 8

Shimanami Tasogare

Shows

Brave series: Might Gaine, J-Decker

Farscape

FMA 2003

Giant Gorg

Lupin the III

Kamen Rider: Ichigo, Gaim, Zero-One

Stargate

Transformers: G1, JG1, BW, JBW, Unicron Trilogy, Prime, RID 2015, Cyberverse, Earthspark

Blocked and still rooting through here?

I applaud your tenacity, but I don't get it. Have a little cheer in your life and go watch Iron Leaguer or Kamen Rider or Beast Wars or something.

Signing out.

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autumntouched · 2 years ago

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Tumblr Crash Course/Welcome

I'm still not over learning some of you joined tumblr because of Talk to Me 😭😍🥹

**Please excuse any terms I use incorrectly and feel free to correct me 🫠 I’m becoming my mom with my slipping grasp of technology 😭 **

Sorry, this site isn't the most intuitive, but I find it much easier as a writer to interact with readers here. I love that people can send me private messages/chats with their thoughts 💗 If you’re new, here's a little TGM fandom tumblr crash course:

First, I love this fandom. The writers are so talented but also incredibly kind. You may see us occasionally have meltdowns around "likes" and interactions, so I'll start there…

There are a lot of things about tumblr that don't make it entirely user friendly, including not having a "save" option for posts that you want to come back to. Enter the "like." On most other social media platforms, a like carries weight. On tumblr, a like can feel ambiguous to a writer because of its dual function as a bookmark

Therefore, generally, the best way to communicate your appreciation for a fic is to reblog it (to raise its visibility) or comment (to let the writer know you read and appreciate their work). If you’re looking at a post, the “reblog” option is the square of arrows. A window will open for you to add a comment and/or gif and/or image and/or Tags. Tags can serve as comments and/or a way for you to organize the the content you’re interacting with (helpful if you want to find it later). Once you post, the reblog appears on your blog for your followers to see

A “comment” can be left with a little speech bubble. Note that a comment goes on the original post, so if the writer is adding to a post that they’re reblogging, you have to tag their blog for them to see it. Apologies, not the clearest explanation, but you’ll get the hang of it!

But not every reader is comfortable with that visibility! Anonymous “asks” are a great way to share a little love. The option to send an “ask” is at the top of a writer’s blog if their asks are “open.” It’s usually a button with some clever way of saying “talk to me.” Lol, which is mine as a nod to Phoenix’s “Talk to me, Bob.” Just dropping a note, a screaming gif, a heart to say “i love your work” means the world. If you’re requesting something, it’s nice to lead with some kind of acknowledgment to the writer. Know that the writer will reshare your thoughts publicly though! So make sure to switch to “anonymous” mode before you start writing so you don’t forget when you post 😊

Also, personally, my messages are always open, and I love hearing from you there too!

That said, even with those varied options, saying anything can be a huge and terrifying stretch for readers, and that’s where I don’t really have an answer 💗 What can I say? When you give up time and important aspects of your life to put words to screen, it helps to know and feel that time is well spent. But I also want this space to feel welcome and open to everyone so demanding that people engage in a certain way, and in any way that is harmful to their well-being, is not conducive to everyone feeling safe and included. A communication work in progress, I guess 😅

I hope you stick around long enough to feel comfortable engaging but if not, I still hope my stories bring you joy 💗 I’ve had to de-prioritize writing quite a bit for the time being but that doesn’t mean I’ve stopped wanting to get to know you all or thinking about you as I’m going about my day or cheering you on when I know you’re going through a tough time or also an amazing time. Life can be pretty rough, so I try to live by the motto “be kind.” I hope you feel that here, and I’m so grateful for the connections I’ve made through our shared love for TGM

#welcome to tumblr #i love your notes #talk to me #or don’t 😂#whatever makes you feel welcome

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cassifictional · 2 years ago

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Underneath

Picture taken from @sapphictemple 's Sevika pic folder and edited. Go check it out.

Pairing: Sevika x g/n reader

Tags: nsfw - oral. Established relationship, Sevika’s on the receiving end for once.

Summary: poor Sevika has had a long day fighting paperwork. She probably needs to relieve some stress. Why not try something new?

Word count: 2.9k (cheers)

Notes: Started making it. Had a breakdown. Bon appetite.

For real though, I’ve had a real shitty week so any nice comments/reblogs would make me so happy. And it’s been a while since I wrote smut. I really like how it turned out, despite the events of this past week. Hope you all enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. ❤

As you rounded the corner on your way to The Last Drop, you noticed that most of the lights had already been turned off for the night. You hadn’t even realized it was that late already. Not that it mattered, you were quite comfortable being active and awake all throughout the night, right up until the early hours of the morning. It also didn’t matter that the bar was already closed. You weren’t there to party, you were there for one person and one person only: your girlfriend.

The front doors were already locked, but some of the lights inside were still on. Peeking through the windows, you could see the vague outline of a person sitting at a desk near the back of the room. No doubt about it, that had to be the woman you were coming to see. As you looked around for a second longer, you noticed there wasn’t anyone else around. You grinned as you realized this might be the perfect time to attempt a little thing you had been wanting to try for a while now. The Last Drop, entirely vacant, doors locked, granting you the most privacy you could possibly get in this nightlife hotspot. A hotspot that was always so crowded. Except for now. Exciting.

You quickly made your way to the side entrance, a partially hidden door reserved for employees and “special guests”. As you pushed it open, you called out for your girlfriend to announce your presence as a “special guest” and not a thief looking to get their hands on the contents of the register behind the bar.

“Sevi?” you called out to no response. You couldn’t yet see her from where you were right now.

Oh god. What if it hadn’t been Sevika you saw through the window. Maybe it had been Silco. In a really big coat.

“Oh, thank god.” you sighed as the desk in the corner of the room came into view and you realized it was, in fact, your girlfriend sitting at the desk as usual. Sevika raised an eyebrow at you as you approached her.

“Thank god I’m stuck at this desk?” she said, sounding more than a little annoyed.

“No, it’s just- no, actually, nevermind.” you walked up to her desk and took a seat right on top of it. You’d rather sit in her lap, but that spot wasn’t available right now. The desk was a mess, there was barely enough space for you to sit. Little piles of papers and notes were everywhere with tools and small loose bits of machinery mixed among them. From the looks of it, she had been combining paperwork with some maintenance on her mechanical arm.

“I was waiting for you at home,” you spoke, reaching out to touch her hand, “but you were taking too long, so I came to see you.”

Sevika allowed you to touch her, but she didn’t return the gesture like she’d usually do when you two were alone.

“Well, yeah, it’s one of those days. Lots of work. Nothing I can do about it.” she huffed, taking back her hand to get back to the work on her desk.

“Sure you could.” you smiled sweetly, tilting your head to the side. “You could finish it.”

“No shit.”

Right. Seemed like humor wasn’t working on her tonight.

“How much longer, do you think?” you asked, trying a more compassionate approach. You leaned over to take a look at what she was working on. Shimmer shipment details and numbers. Boring stuff. The kind of stuff that would make her extra grumpy.

“I’m almost done. Twenty minutes or so.”

“Can I help?”

“Yes. Stop distracting me.” she glared at you.

“Alright. Fine.” you grumbled, getting ready to hop off the desk again. Sevika quickly reached out to grab your arm before you could do so.

“Didn’t say I don’t want your company.” she said without looking up from her papers. Seems like she had realized she was being a bit harsh.

You smiled at her and turned around on the desk to face her, swinging your legs over to the other side so you could rest one of your feet on her thigh. Immediately regretting her decision to be nice to you, she shot you another glare, but you just glanced around the room, feigning ignorance. Sevika let out a long, deep sigh, and continued with her work, trying her best to ignore you for the time being.

Now all you could do was wait for your girlfriend to finish her work. You took your time to study Sevika’s beautiful features, something you loved to do whenever you were near her but she was too busy with other things to pay attention to you. You noticed her brow was more furrowed than usual. By the way she kept blinking, you could tell that she must be feeling tired. Her shoulders seemed stiff, the rest of her posture seemed to be as well. Her leg, the one you were not currently resting your foot on, was bouncing up and down ever so slightly. She looked incredibly tense, like she had a very long and very annoying day. Luckily, you knew a thing or two to help her get rid of all that tension.

“Almost done.” she mumbled, shoving a few more papers to the side. You took that as your cue to start the little plan that had popped into your mind the second you had seen her through the window, sitting here all by herself in the corner of the now closed bar.

You slowly let your foot slide down her thigh until it was in between her legs. You felt her flinch at the sensation, but she didn’t give you the satisfaction of a further reaction. Displeased, hoping for a slightly more exciting response, you started slowly rubbing the tip of your shoe along the inside of her thigh. Again, you felt her shudder underneath your foot ever so slightly, but that was all you got out of her. You had to stop yourself from grinning when you noticed all the hairs on her arm were now standing up straight. As hard as she was trying not to react, her body could not help itself.

“I thought I told you to stop distracting me.” she said in a tone that was meant to sound intimidating. It didn’t work on you, though. Not right now. You knew that in this case, it was just an empty threat. She could try all she wanted to pretend she wasn’t enjoying this at least a little.

“I’m not distracting. I’m encouraging.” you smiled at her.

Eager to see her react even more, you made a bold move and decided to gently press the tip of your shoe right in between her legs, rubbing it up and down her crotch just once.

A quiet “fuck” escaped her mouth as you felt her whole body twitch underneath you. Finally, a crack in that stoic composure of hers.

Breaking the silence in the building, there was a small noise coming from the direction of the side door, from where you had entered. As if feeling relieved, Sevika shot up from her seat, loudly shoving her chair back as she did. You sighed, rolled your eyes and turned around a little to see where the noise was coming from. One of Silco’s goons had entered the building, holding a small stack of more fucking paperwork. Sevika huffed and straightened her clothes, trying to hide that her breathing had suddenly gotten very heavy from seemingly just sitting still at a desk, and made her way over to the guy awkwardly standing by the door.

“Here’s that report that was missing, boss. It’s-“

“Give me that.” you heard Sevika hiss, followed by the noise of rustling papers.

As Sevika gave the guy an earful about being late, you hopped off the desk and set the second phase of your plan in motion. You were already getting excited, and the best part hadn’t even started yet.

When Sevika returned, she seemed surprised when she noticed you weren’t sitting on her desk anymore. She glanced around before sitting down, jumping in her seat a little once she realized you had hidden yourself underneath the desk.

“Last guy, right? Did you lock the door?” you asked, sitting on the floor underneath Sevika’s desk, pretending to admire its wood grain as you talked.

“I did. What are you doing? Get up.” she demanded as if she had forgotten about your previous interaction just a minute ago. She really wasn’t taking hints well tonight.

“Encouraging you.” you said plainly. “You were almost done, right? I suggest you hurry up.”

Sevika scoffed. “Or else?”

“Or else I’m not rewarding you for working so hard today.”

Something finally seemed to click in her when you saw her eyebrows raise a little once you started running your hands up from her calves to the insides of her thighs.

“What, right now?” she asked, her breathing getting a bit heavier again already. “Why here? Can’t this wait until we’re home?”

“No, because I know how much you like to instantly fall asleep the second you get home after a day like this.”

“I hate how accurate that is.” she chuckled.

For a moment she considered her options, but her decision was quickly made. Without saying another word, she leaned back over the desk and started scribbling on the papers again. You rested your head on her thigh as she worked, continuing to tease the inside of her thighs with your hands as “encouragement”. She carefully pushed you a little closer to her with one of her feet, wordlessly urging you to continue whatever you were doing.

After five more minutes, you were getting impatient. Sure, you had a front-row seat to the best show you could think of, but nothing was happening yet. The scribbling of Sevika’s pen continued and irritated you. Enough was enough. Either she finished her work now or she could finish as she was herself, well, finishing.

You moved in a little closer and moved your hands up to the front of her pants. Slowly, giving her just a little more time to continue her work, you started to undo her belt. A sharp hiss shot out from her metal arm, followed by the sound of her sharp metal fingertips scratching the desk. Good. You were getting her all worked up again.

“No patience, you..” she groaned.

“Hurry the fuck up then.” you said as you fully undid her belt, working your way down to the button and zipper below.

She leaned forward a little more. You heard her curse quietly under her breath again.

“Shit.”

The button now undone as well, you decided to take the zipper in between your teeth and undo it like that. You felt Sevika shudder underneath you.

Then finally, as the zipper was now fully open, her underwear already peeking through, you heard Sevika slam her pen down on the desk. Forcefully, but careful as not to hurt you, she shoved her chair back and raised her hips just enough that she could quickly slide her pants down.

“I’m done.” she growled as she dragged herself forward again to be closer to you, reaching back to take her underwear off as well, but you stopped her from doing so.

“Took you long enough.” you grinned, hooking the fingers of one of your hands underneath the top of the hem of her underwear. Right in front of your face, you could see that a damp patch was already well visible in between her legs. Teasing her a little more, you lightly ran your fingers over it. You heard her sharply inhale as you did.

“About that ‘reward’ I was promised..” Sevika said in between heavy breaths, pushing you a little closer again with the back of her foot, “how about you quit being a nuisance and get to it?”

“Who’s the impatient one now?” you said teasingly before dragging her underwear down in one smooth motion, a sharp contrast to your previous slow teasing that seemed to please Sevika. You were about to please her a whole lot more, though. The sight of her glistening wet in front of you was even better than the front-row seat you had before. This was more like a VIP-ticket. Including a meet-and-greet. Meet-and-eat.

“Fine. How about you say ‘please’ first?” you smiled up at her expectantly.

“No.”

You shrugged. “Oh, well. Was worth a try.”

Sevika wasn’t the type to beg for attention. She knew she would get it one way or another anyway. That didn’t stop you from trying every once in a while, though.

You took in the sight of her all wet and ready and impatient in front of you just once more before you finally went down. Savouring that first taste of her just a little more than usual. She let out a long, shuddering sigh as your mouth finally made contact with that sweet spot. To finally relieve that mutual impatience together, to release that built up tension from the entire day, that relief felt incredibly good.

“Ah, yes, just like that..” Sevika groaned quietly, “keep going. You know how I like it.”

You sure as hell did.

Dragging your tongue up and down her folds, you lapped up everything she was giving you. After the long day at work, her scent was intoxicating, musky and warm and wonderfully her, somehow still not smelling gross like you’d expect someone to smell after a labor-intensive day. You wanted to tell her all about how much you were enjoying her, but for you to talk you would have to pause and you weren’t eager to do that.

You moved up to give her clit some much needed attention, which she happily accepted. With her metal hand clutching the armrest of her chair, Sevika’s free hand quickly found it’s way to your head, intertwining itself in your hair and pushing you down into her a little more. Her foot, still behind you, pushed you a little closer as well. It was almost getting a bit hard to breathe, but not enough to be an issue. But even if it was.. what a way this would be to go.

“Just like that. Perfect.” she panted, already looking perfectly dishevelled.

Her hand on your head and the foot behind you were enough to tell you that she very much still demanded control of the situation, even though you had her fully at your own mercy as well. The balance between both of your needs to be in control made everything feel that much more exciting.

As you continued to eagerly eat her out, juices dripping down your chin, you felt her thigh tense up underneath your hand. A telltale sign that she was getting close. Already?

In an attempt to make the situation last a little longer, you tried to move your mouth down a little again. A rough tug on your hair quickly made you reconsider that decision, moving back up again as quickly as you had tried to go down.

“Don’t you fucking dare stop now.” Sevika growled, her breathing heavy and deep, her body feeling warm and flushed against you.

So you continued as you had before, eagerly licking and sucking and enjoying every little reaction you got out of her. You looked up at her in an attempt to maintain eye contact, but she couldn’t keep her composure anymore. You could feel her thighs tense up again, along with the muscles in her hips and the now painfully tight grip on your hair told you all you needed to know. Still looking up at her, you watched her close her eyes and lean her head back. So close.

“Don’t you dare fucking stop.” she repeated, breathlessly now. “Please.”

The unexpected please sent shivers up your spine. You knew exactly what you needed to do now.

Keep up the pace. Let her come.

And she did. Moaning and groaning through clenched teeth, trying to not make too much noise in case anyone was somehow still around in the vacant and closed bar. She pulled you in so close you could barely breathe as she rode out her orgasm. Judging by how long it lasted, she must have really, really needed that sweet release. After what felt like forever, she released your head and you took a long, deep breath, thoroughly enjoying the sweet, sweet oxygen.

“That was fast.” you panted, out of breath after nearly being smothered in the best way possible.

“Told you. You know what I like.” she grinned, also out of breath, but for an entirely different reason. The way she said it made it sound like a genuine compliment, a rare treat coming from her.

“One more?” you asked, more than eager to get back to work.

“No, that’s enough,” she chuckled,” You did well. I need to have some energy left to walk home.”

Disappointed but also satisfied, you crawled out from underneath the desk, letting Sevika dress herself again before taking her head in between your hands and giving her a long, deep kiss. Letting her taste herself a little in the meantime from what remained of her on your lips.

“You know..” she mumbled through the kiss, “If all my days behind this desk ended like this, I think I’d be more inclined to take the shifts involving paperwork.”

“You go do that.” you mumbled back at her, your eyes still closed. “Show those papers who’s boss. I’ll sit under your desk all day if it’ll help.”

“I doubt it will.” she snickered. “But it’s something to look forward to, for once.”

Notes: I think I may have a bit of a fixation with desks :v and legs. Definitely legs.

Also, the logistics of (tight) pants and this position are something I’ve yet to experience for myself. I have a hard time picturing it in my head without it looking silly.

You’d think I’d have a thing for almost getting caught doing something somewhere you’re not supposed to, considering I’ve written a scenario like that before. In reality, I have anxiety and would never ever put myself in a situation like that LOL

#arcane #sevika #arcane sevika #sevika x reader #sevika x female reader #sevika x y/n #sevika x you #arcane x reader #arcane imagine #arcane imagines #cat writes

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valentinaonthemoon · 2 years ago

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10 Characters, 10 Fandoms, 10 Tags

Coming back from my accidental hiatus (because I forgot to update my queue and now there are hundreds of posts sitting in my likes waiting to be reblogged) to do this lovely game that @captain-fflewddurfflam tagged me in! Thank you <3

Share ten different favorite characters from ten different pieces of media, in no particular order, then tag/send to ten people (anon or not)

In no particular order:

Wall-E ___ Pixar // I'm in the middle of a megarewatch of all Pixar movies, because there's nothing to watch on tv in the summer and I haven't seen some of these features in so long! What's not to love about this cute polite robot, who cleans the Earth and generally wants the best for everyone?

Gil Ra-Im ___ Secret Garden // It's that time of the year where I go back to rewatch my fave comfort kdrama, so I have to mention the Only Girlboss Ever. She is literally never wrong, goodbye.

The Captain ___ BBC Ghosts // Ghosts is coming back soon, so I have to mention it. It genuinely makes me happy, and it's definitely the best comfort show ever. It's hard to choose a favourite character, but Cap is just fun, and I have a soft spot for characters who need a hug. (which brings me to...)

Stede Bonnet ___ Our Flag Means Death // To be fair, a lot of people in this show need a hug -Jim, Lucius and Blackbeard included- but Stede spends most of season one in very hugless situations and when Mary gives him a hug and shows him that she understands near the end, it's just very lovely and satisfying. I can't wait to see how his story will continue in season 2.

Yoon Jin-Myung ___ Age of Youth // I'm finally catching up with this kdrama, always thanks to @not-the-face, and I love the relationship that these friends have. The first season was so good I watched a good eight or nine episodes in one day, but I'm liking the second one as well. Jin-Myung is the oldest, shyest, and -as usual- feels like she needs a hug, although all of them need a hug, at the end of the day.

Frodo Baggins ___ The Lord of the Rings // Before starting my Pixar rewatch, I rewatched LOTR, and let me tell you: these hobbits made me cry. Again. Of course I love Sam, Pippin and Merry, and all the other fellows of the Fellowship, but Frodo had my heart this time more than the others. He had to make a journey he didn't choose to do, had to carry a weight that was imposed unto him, something that could change him forever. He was ready to do it alone if it could save the world, even though he could have lost all his hope in the process. But most importantly, he accepted help and finished his quest, well, not alone. (Also he, too, falls in the "character desperately needs a hug" category, so I guess this list has definitely a theme)

Ted Lasso ___ Ted Lasso // Here's a tv show I finally caught up with, this year, after seeing so many gifsets and not understanding anything about it! I absolutely love the character of Ted: optimistic, cheerful, and ready to help you in any way, and yet, maybe he needs some help too. All in all, all these characters are beautifully written and I hope they'll make their development justice next season!

Nadia Vulvokov ___ Russian Doll // She just wants to have a normal day home with her cat, but has to fight with the space-time continuum. I think she deserves a spot on this list. Also she has amazing hair.

Jessie ___ Starstruck // If Nadia's hair counts as a reason to be on this list, Rose Matafeo should have a perennial spot, but I also love her character in this show: she's quite relatable, even though the situations she's put in don't seem as such.

Polly Perks ___ Discworld // The Monstrous Regiment was one of just two books I've read of Discworld so far, but I loved it. I got to read it thanks to our Agents of Movies Discord server's book club, and I really enjoyed its themes and developments to the story. Terry Pratchett is always an awesome writer, so I could trust him with anything. Polly was an amusing main character, and it was fun to see the world from her perspective, even though she did take quite a long time to find out that The World Is Female, I guess.

Since it's been a while, I'm going to tag some of you to keep in touch, even though I do keep in touch with some other of you through other social networks 😁 Feel free to ignore the tag if you don't want to do this!

@not-the-face (visto che ti ho già taggata nel post, adesso ti taggo anche qui sotto, sorry), @2minutes2midnight, @agentofship, @apathbacktoyou, @clementinewhy, @englishmagic, @the-astro-ambassadors, @giorgiaink, @woofety, and @todayesterday.

Have a lovely day, everyone! Thanks for reading until here, if you did, and even if you didn't, I hope you're all safe and having a somewhat nice and comfortable day! 🌻

#tag meme #thank you!#captain fflewddurfflam #also lmao there was no need to write a paragraph for all the characters but #i love explaining why i love them and share it to the world so now you have this whole post anyway #i'm not sorry :S

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onlyseokmins · 2 years ago

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tracking tag!

Hello! This was going to be a part of my milestone event but I really don't have the time or energy (as usual) to launch it quite yet. However, I am aware I haven't had the time or energy to read/find/catch up on a lot of fics lately :((( That means I end up missing a lot of content and I'd like to try and amend that!

Thus, I'm finally launching my tracking tag where you can use #ez bookmarks as a tag for any NSFW fics you'd like me to read as I think it'll be easier for me to get to them in one place!

For now, all I ask is that your fic at least have a "read more" (:readmore: + enter on mobile) and that you do understand if it takes some time for me to get to. I also reserve the right to not read/reblog anything I don't want to and there's a good chance that mutuals' fics will take precedence! (hint, hint, come interact and be my friend ajdkfjd😄) I really hope to see it fill up with lots of good content 💖 Feel free to send me any questions that you have, cheers to happy creating and reading 🥂📖

#i'll be organizing some of my tags too but idk when #but yeah - hope this gets used!! i feel so bad for not reading things at times 😭#ez.monches

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namethat-i-oughttohavetoldyou · 2 years ago

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Swamped

I liveeee!!! And here is my fic entry for the Jellicle summer event! This was (supposed to be) just a quick in-between thing; I’m still working on the requests, don’t worry. @falasta I’m sorry you’re not having a good day, so I thought I’d being brazen and tag you to maybe cheer you up? ♥♥ As always, all my love to all who read/like/reblog, and enjoy!

“Where are we going?!”

“Didn’t you ask that already?”

“Yes! I mean. Um. Are we there yet?”

Munkustrap’s gentle huff of laughter disturbed the cool, damp afternoon air, dew drops catching in his whiskers and making his silver pelt shimmer.

“Have you heard of the saying ‘the journey is the reward’, Etcetera?”

The sand-coloured kitten shook her head, scrunching her face in confusion. “What‘s that supposed to mean?”

“Sometimes it’s not necessary to arrive somewhere. I brought you with me to enjoy this walk. A hike, as the humans call it. A little adventure, if you so will.”

Five pairs of small ears perked up at those words.

“An adventure!” Tumblebrutus squealed, and Pouncival stayed true to his name and pounced at Munkustrap’s left hind leg, triangular tail quivering with glee.

“So Skimble took us on the train with him so we can hike around in the woods?” Electra marvelled. What an expenditure! (Jemima had read that word to her from Jennyanydots’ dictionary, and they both thought it sounded very mature.)

“I suppose we could have hiked at home just as well,” Munkustrap admitted, awkwardly waddling with a certain patched kitten still attached to his hind leg. “But this is an experience neither Skimble nor I wanted to deprive you of.”

“It’s like a summer camp!” Jemima crowed happily; Demeter’s little human girl had explained the concept to her in all of its details.

“Exactly,” Munkustrap said, even though nobody had ever explained the concept to him, for that matter. “We’re the earliest group to go, Skimble’s group will arrive later. We shall scout out the safest way to travel, what do you think?”

His words were met with mews of approval and pride. Jellicle cats were quite territorial, after all, so securing a perimeter for others was a valued skill.

With their fur fluffed against the cool air, the kittens did their best in showing off their talents in this unfamiliar environment.

Electra found that climbing onto forest trees was a lot harder than it looked; there were so many strange insects hiding in twigs and leaves and under pieces of bark that she was constantly distracted.

Pouncival and Tumblebrutus agreed to become forest cats from now on, because the soft mossy ground was so pleasant to land on when flipping and jumping around.

Jemima did not want to become a forest cat when they asked, because it was so hard to see the moon with all the trees. Etcetera tried to convince her by showing her a few fireflies that had woken up a little too early, but Jemima didn’t relent.

“We’ll come and visit you four once a month,” Munkustrap said eventually, sighing dramatically and playfully nudging Jemima’s flank with his tail. “We can bring them some cream, what do you think? If we don’t end up eating it all on the way here, of course.”

Jemima guffawed, and the other kittens quickly gave up their plans of moving into the woods.

A life without cream? Unimaginable!

The cloud of mosquitos angrily buzzing up when Tumblebrutus tumbled into a bush should have notified them of what was coming, but Munkustrap had to shamefully admit that it had been a while since he had entered a proper forest – he was a city cat through and through.

Shortly after, the floor began to grow soft and muddy.

With every step, their paws seemed to sink more into the ground, releasing with a wet smack. At first, the kittens laughed about the sounds and the feeling alike, jumping around and pushing each other over, but after awhile it became tiring, and their pelts were uncomfortably damp.

The further they walked, the more it felt as if they were wading through syrup.

First Jemima climbed onto Munkustrap’s back to be carried, then Etcetera, and soon the silver tabby had become a kitten taxi, coming to a halt ever so often to test the mossy ground with a paw, trying to find a way out of the boggy area they had found themselves in.

“Can some of you tell me what you saw when the ground started to go soft?” Munkustrap asked his tired cargo in an attempt to distract them.

“A forest,” Etcetera deadpanned.

“I saw a tree,” Tumblebrutus added. “It looked like a spiral, as if it was growing around another tree that isn’t there anymore.”

“Very good. Remember that tree, it will be a marker for the others, so they won’t become stuck here as well.”

“But we aren’t stuck,” Pouncival argued, pawing at one of Munkustrap’s ears.

“That’s true,” Munkustrap said, even though he sank in almost to his elbows and knees now with every step. “We will make sure they stay away, anyway. This is not really what I’d call an enjoyable hike.”

Just as he had ended his sentence, it was as if his paws broke through some kind of spongy floor, and in the next second his head and his back, including his precious cargo, were the only things not submerged in cold, muddy water.

“Are we going swimming?”

Munkustrap spluttered.

The kittens jumped as the severity of their situation dawned on them.

“Do you see that branch over there?” Munkustrap asked with patient urgency as soon as he had spit out a mouthful of water. “I want you to jump on it. Can you do that?”

The kittens nodded, fearful but brave.

Pouncival went first, then Electra, who launched herself off Munkustrap’s head, making his face hit the water’s surface once again.

“Phrrlphrt.”

“Sorry!”

“Don’t worry. Tumblebrutus, you’re next.”

Tumblebrutus landed safely, adding a front walkover as if by accident. His dexterity lessons were really paying off.

Etcetera followed, almost falling off the branch when she bumped against Electra, who was readying herself to catch Jemima in case she didn’t make the jump, having the shortest legs of them all.

Jemima took a run up from the hind end of Munkustrap’s back, also using Munkustrap’s head as launching pad, but this time he was prepared. The kittens on the branch caught her by the forelegs, bodily pulling her onto the branch next to them as soon as she was in reach.

“Well done!” Munkustrap called, voice ringing with pride and a big grin splitting his face.

Five triangular tails rose high in reply, bashful and proud giggling filling the cool air for a long moment.

Then the still existing problem at hand quickly dispelled their mirth.

“Are you going to drown?” Tumblebrutus asked worriedly, eyeing the mud splattered up to Munkustrap’s ears.

“No, I am quite buoyant, as you can see,” Munkustrap reassured him with a wink, trying to lift his head and find more stable ground.

The only thing that came close was a sturdy looking tree stump just a hair’s breadth away, but try as he might, he couldn’t find anything solid to stand on, and swimming was just as impossible.

Sinking was not something he had to worry about since everything that fell into bog water was indeed quite buoyant, but if he didn’t manage to get out by nightfall, he would probably freeze to death. Already the cold water made his hind legs tingle.

“Jemima, Etcetera, Pouncival, I have an important task for the three of you. I want you to find a safe path to solid ground. I think it’s best if you climb along branches and anything else that you can find, as long as you don’t try to walk on the ground without testing it first. Can you do that?”

The three kittens nodded mutely, wide-eyed and quivering with excitement as well as well-managed fear. They began to balance along the length of the branch, claws out, bellies brushing the wood and tails upward in the air to balance.

Electra and Tumblebrutus stayed, waiting for instructions.

“I am going to try and make it to that tree stump over here and I might need some help. May I ask that of you? I know this is an uncomfortable situation.”

“We can do that,” Electra decided, ears pulled back and voice shaking, but eyes alight with determination. Tumblebrutus nodded quickly, clawing at a twig and purring in small spurts to calm himself down.

Munkustrap made a mental note to give them all of his salmon paste as reward as soon as they were back with the others, then he set his eyes on the tree stump and experimentally kicked his hind legs.

Other than a few glugging sounds nothing much happened, so he kicked with a little more force, pedalling his front paws as well to try and lift himself out of the water enough to reach the edge of the stump.

The water seemed to cling to his fur like molasses, and only seconds later he was a bit out of breath from exertion. But there was no time to waste; Skimble and the others were surely waiting for them already, and what if they got stuck as well while trying to search for them?

He kept kicking.

Meanwhile, the other half of their little group had travelled relatively far, only using branches that they were certain would carry their silver protector, and more and more bushels of grass crossed their path. At last, they couldn’t see any more treacherous puddles, so they searched for a branch close to the floor for a test. Etcetera volunteered. She buried her claws so deeply into the branch that it almost hurt, then she slowly let herself dangle off until her back paws touched the ground.

Pouncival and Jemima, crouched low next to each front paw in case they had to pull her up, turned their ears into her direction.

“How’s it looking?”

“Feels stable,” Etcetera reported enthusiastically, trying to push against the ground and releasing a sigh of relief when it didn’t give in under her paws. She jumped on her hind legs, then stomped, trying to determine if it would carry an adult cat.

She let go of the branch, trampling back and forth, then Pouncival climbed down and on her back, and Jemima jumped on top.

When the ground still stayed nice and solid, they bumped heads and squeaked with joy and pride, taking care to look for markers and scrambling back onto the branch to return to the others.

With an unappetizing smacking sound, one front paw came free. Munkustrap breathed a short sigh of relief, suppressing the reflex to brace himself on the swampy ground and kicked his back legs as fast as he could to avoid overbalancing.

“You did it!” Electra cheered, and Tumblebrutus clapped.

Munkustrap smiled into their general direction, focusing on kicking his tired legs and reaching for the tree stump. But even though his forelegs were exceptionally long, it was not long enough. No matter how hard he kicked and how far he reached, he kept falling just short of catching it with an unsheathed claw.

Tumblebrutus leapt onto the sought-after tree stump and, without a word, leant over the edge, worming himself under Munkustrap’s big paw. Electra followed shortly after, taking hold of Tumblebrutus’ tail with her teeth and burying her own claws in the stump.

Grimacing, Munkustrap hooked his paw over the kitten, claws carefully sheathed, equal parts worried about hurting him, resigned about the fact that there was no other option and unimaginably proud of his creativity and courage.

Tumblebrutus scuttled a few tiny steps at a time to the side, dragging Munkustrap’s paw with him. It was slow-going, because Munkustrap’s arm was heavy with water and exhaustion and his shoulder really didn’t like the position it was being forced into, but slow-going still meant it was going, and that was the important part.

Just as an array of scampering paws announced the other three’s return, Munkustrap’s paw touched the stump. Tumblebrutus was pulled out by Electra and Munkustrap unsheathed his claws, burying them deeply in the damp wood and trilling a thank you to the two kittens.

“We found a way out,” Etcetera said happily, attention fully on Munkustrap starting to pull himself out of the bog with one arm.

The other paw came free quickly, but the wood started to splinter under Munkustrap’s claws and his lower body stayed stubbornly stuck.

“Munkustrap, are you tired?” Jemima asked worriedly, kneading the branch a little.

“Of course he is, he’s been in there forever!”

“But he carried Plato around for an entire afternoon once. And remember when Bustopher jumped into his arms when the mice played a prank on him?”

“That’s not the same.”

“Is too!”

(Munkustrap was a little too preoccupied with panting to interrupt them.)

“Nuh-uh.”

Pouncival crinkled his nose and lashed his tail. “Fine. But if he’s tired, then what are we gonna do? We can’t pull him out.”

Said tomcat had marginally gotten his breath back, and his ears wiggled with amusement. “Don’t worry, it might take some time, but I will get myself out. And then I’ll spend hours and hours to groom all the mud out of my coat.”

That produced a few laughs and playfully disgusted noises from the little group, and shortly after Munkustrap began to kick his hind legs again.

“We could sing for you,” Etcetera suddenly piped up, prancing back and forth on the branch. “Like Tugger does when Mister Mistoffelees does a biiiig magic trick. And like Tumble does before he starts his hard flips.”

“I don’t sing before my flips!” Tumblebrutus protested, but his twitching ears betrayed him.

“Yes you do, but very quietly.”

“Hmpf.”

“What are we gonna sing, then?” Pouncival asked quickly before they could break into a fight.

Etcetera scratched her ear with a back paw. “Hm. I don’t know…”

Electra began to hum a melody. The other kittens perked their ears, digging in their memory to remember the lyrics. They came up mostly blank.

“I can only remember the last verse,” Electra murmured, shyly ducking her head. “But it’s a nice song. I heard it on the radio with Victoria and we danced to it.”

Jemima chirped and motioned her to start singing, so she did.

“Move on up, and keep on wishing. Remember your dream is your only scheme, so keep on pushing. Take nothing less than the supreme best…“

Tumblebrutus bounced on the spot; he knew the song. He joined in.

„Do not obey rumours people say, ‘cause you can pass the test. Just move on up! To a greater day. With just a little faith, if you put your mind to it, you can surely do it!“

They repeated the line over and over since none of them could remember the rest of the song, and after two repetitions the other kittens joined in as well, creating a sweet impromptu polyphonic choir.

Munkustrap could feel his kicks grow more powerful, lifting the back end of his body a little more out of the muddy water, centimetre for centimetre.

Every Jellicle cat emanated their share of magic, some more showy than others. Take a few of them together with the same goal in mind, and they could sometimes achieve impossible things.

Evidently, five mud-splattered kittens singing a third of a soul song was more than enough to work wonders. Munkustrap was humbled to not only witness this casual magic, but to also be its recipient.

When the big silver tabby was close enough to the tree stump to brace his elbows on the edge, the kittens sang a little louder, sitting down on his front paws so he wouldn’t lose his grip.

And eventually, with a last wet slorrrp sound, Munkustrap’s bushy tail was freed from the bog, the normally soft fur matted and dripping muddy water. There was much grooming to be done, indeed.

Loud cheering rang through the woods when all four of his paws finally stood on the stump, and Munkustrap sang the single line of the song for them in turn, bursting with pride and the tips of his ears tingling from their little strain of magic. (If one had compared it with that of Mister Mistoffelees, it was not ‘impressive’ per se, but making things seem bigger than they were was one of Etcetera’s rather unique quirks.)

“I couldn’t be prouder of you all,” he told them as they made their way across the path the three youngest had ventured out, eventually relishing the solid mossy ground under their paws once more.

The kittens mewed with joy and pride, tails lifted so high that they almost walked on the very tips of their toes.

Certain that his cheeks would split if he smiled any harder, he nuzzled each kitten and touched his nose to theirs.

“Now we just need to find a way back.”

“I’ll lead the way this time,” Jemima said confidently, “I won’t sink so deeply if there are any more bogs, and you can pull me out, too.”

Munkustrap let her, walking closely behind, brushing against everyone who was close enough and being nuzzled affectionately in return.

Apparently, there was still some miracle-working magic left, because only a few steps behind the next tree stood Skimbleshanks, and Alonzo beside him.

“Why, fancy seeing you here!” Skimbleshanks greeted them cheerfully, his teasing grin slipping from his face when he saw their mud-splattered states. “What-”

“We got a bit turned around,” Munkustrap replied mildly, making the kittens giggle.

“You don’t say,” Alonzo said, voice as dry as desert sand and eyes on Munkustrap’s legs, which shook from exhaustion. “I take it we shouldn’t go back and talk a stern word with whatever mud monster attacked you?”

“Unless you would also like to spend a few hours removing bog water from your fur, I would advice against it.”

Skimbleshanks gaped, ears pulling back. “Bog water?!”

“Electra sang a song from the radio,” Etcetera added helpfully.

“Ah. Well, in any case, I have a thermos of tea waiting back at camp and you look like you are in dire need of it. Let’s leave the hiking for tomorrow, shall we? Maybe our species is not suited for such things,” Skimbleshanks joked, checking over each kitten and grooming the mud from their faces.

Alonzo pawed at the wet rag that pretended to be Munkustrap’s tail, grimacing in sympathy.

Munkustrap huffed a gentle laugh. “Oh, I’m definitely not suited for it. These five here, however, are the best hiking scouts you could wish for. I think you should at least take two of them whenever you go into the forest. For safety.”

The kittens’ chests swelled with pride. Skimbleshanks’ eyebrows wandered into the direction of his ears. Then a smile grew on his face, almost rivalling the one still present on Munkustrap’s.

“Now there’s a story that I just must hear. And that I will get to hear, I presume?”

Pouncival did not bother to draw it out, instead launching right into the juicy part, which resulted in an argument with Etcetera about appropriate plot pacing.

Jemima climbed on Munkustrap’s back and began to purr, tiny paws kneading the scruff of his neck, Alonzo walked beside him, gently bumping into him ever so often.

They made their way back to the camp, listening attentively to Pouncival and Etcetera talking over each other to tell of their adventure, adding a mud monster here and there for dramatic effect, and the moon rising over the trees seemed to be a lot bigger than it usually was.

I knowww, my Cats stories mostly play in the 20s/30s and Move on Up is from the 70s, but disregard that just this once XD Also I know that bog and swamp and all other synonyms are probably not synonyms at all, but I haven’t had the patience yet to look into that any further, forgive me djfksjkdf Also yeah, I did grow up next to a swamp, how did you know? ;) Hope you enjoyed and thank you for reading!

#cats the musical #munkustrap #jemima #etcetera #pouncival #tumblebrutus #electra #namethat-i writes #summer event

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