#If someone has the rights I'll take that down

[what-if-i-just-did]

I looked behind me at reflex, although I don't know what I was expecting, given the fact Disillusioned had said "invisible". Rather than some hideous creature, or nothing at all, I was met with the sight of Talon. I sighed. Right, of course.

I'd completely stopped thinking of Talon as a 'monster' over two decades ago, so he'd slipped my mind. Nobody else could see him, so I'd kind of forgotten that he'd look pretty scary to most others. Well, or sexy, depending on the person. Yuck. He had talons for fingers, like his name would suggest, with sharp claws rather than fingernails. He was 6'8 tall, give or take, with pitch black skin (or rather, short fur) that had red patterns on it like galaxies. Sharp teeth, somewhere between those of a shark and those of a vampire, and his eyes were as dark as his skin, with a silver iris in the middle of each of them.

Turning back to Disillusioned, I chuckled. "Oh. No, that's just Talon, he does whatever he wants. I guess I ask him for things sometimes but it's not my superpower. He's not even that helpful really."

I would've expected Talon to protest somehow, mock-offended, but he still seemed to be recovering from the surprise of someone else being able to see him. There was a slight smirk on his lips though, if you knew him well enough to be able to tell. His expressions were usually miniscule, but after living with him breathing down my neck for twenty-seven years, I'd learned to read them.

Disillusioned clearly wasn't expecting that. "Ah... so... why is he here?"

"Uh, complicated story.... he's kinda attached to me, so he just has to hang around until I die. We're friends though."

"Mmmm, I wouldn't go that far, little one. I'll help you out on occasion, for my amusement. Don't mistake that for friendship."

"Talon, I made you pancakes for breakfast yesterday and you put whipped cream on my nose. You have no ground to stand on."

Talon, wisely, kept his fanged mouth shut.

Disillusioned raised an eyebrow. "That's... certainly intriguing." He paused for a moment, before continuing. "I don't normally do this- I'm not supposed to, but.. if you're agreeable, I'm intrigued. Could we exchange number and arrange for a meet-up? I'd love to know more about Talon."

Talon howled with laughter as I fangirled, either uncaring or simply unused to the fact that Disillusioned could hear him. Disillusioned wanted to meet with me???! More than the meet-n-greet that I paid for???!

It took me much too long to finally stutter out a "yeah" that didn't sound nearly enthusiastic enough. Disillusioned chuckled, and wrote something on my arm. His number. Oh gods. When did he even get a pen?

"Uh, that's your fifteen minutes up, luv, but I'm looking forward to seeing you again... Casey, was it?"

"Ciji.", I said, dazed. A few minutes later, I realised I had not only just MET Disillusioned, but he wanted to meet ME. Granted, it was about Talon, but still.

!!!

(authors note- comment if you want a part two?)

“So what’s your power?” Said the all-seeing super-powered individual, “Telekinesis” you said “……….so it’s not the ability to order around the invisible monster that follows you around?” “The fucking what?”

[shizunitis]

How do you think Shen Qingqiu would be affected if he had Xin Mo?

holy fuck i've been thinking about this for months and now that i've been asked i'm kind of lost. anon i love you prepare for a whole lotta yapping

the question is vague enough to both give me room to fuck around and to not know what to focus on. so i'll go with trying to figure out what the chain of events would be, mostly. i'm very sleepy though. that should be taken into consideration.

xin mo uses its masters' trauma and psychological issues against them. which means we just have to take shen qingqiu's issues and ramp them up enough to see what that would do to him. how that change would present itself is highly dependent on how he comes upon xin mo, as well.

first off, what does he want? shen qingqiu wants, in no particular order: to survive, to have luo binghe by his side and safe, and to protect his sect from a wrathful luo binghe.

he dislikes violence but doesn't shy away from it when it's expected of him to be unmoved by it. he's a deeply curious person and likes theorising, cultivation, and feeling powerful and respected. he thinks of himself as a "faker" but is proud of his moral stances, especially when they differ from the original goods'.

his biggest frustration throughout the novel is the fact that he cannot protect luo binghe from the plot and all the suffering that would bring him, and that he is under the control of something so opposed to his own goals as the system.

let's say shen qingqiu were to fall into the abyss and find xin mo himself, and therefore the system's control of him would be weakened, as it was when binghe was down there. this would mean he didn't betray binghe, maybe even took his place. this has to happen because he figures out the system is his biggest obstacle, before he gets to xin mo, or else my whole thing falls apart. maybe shang qinghua plays a part in this, maybe not.

it doesn't matter much how, but if he doesn't come to this realisation at some point, he would not place his target on the system, nor would he get the courage to try to change things according to his own wishes.

so. abyss -> revenge on the system -> find xin mo -> cultivate with it -> get out of the abyss.

first off, the sect wouldn't stand for him using a clearly harmful (to both himself and the world around him) demonic sword, or any sort of demonic cultivation at all, so he'd have to hide it if he were to make his way back. paranoia and fear would probably change him into an overprotective person, someone who slowly becomes less careful about what he has to do in order to protect his people, especially when we factor in how he'd had to, for years, live under the control and supervision of the system.

there is also the problem of getting close to the protagonist again. if he were to make contact, the system would re-activate, and his attempt to kill it would be useless.

he'd draw himself away from the people he cares about so he could watch over them. he would study and try to use the sword to change things in his favour, with the right incentive. the harm brought to his cultivation by the sword would probably force him to become more secretive so he isn't discovered.

he would probably seclude himself away from cang qiong, binghe and most of the world. whether he goes into the demon realm or not doesn't matter. he would rely on only himself, unless he can get shang qinghua involved in his plans. i imagine shang qinghua would be opposed to it, not only because the system would be against it, but because shen qingqiu's death or pain would spell his own destruction (by luo binghe's hand) if he didn't try to stop it.

the threat of huan hua palace and people discovering binghe's true nature would probably allow for the sword to take advantage of him more and more as he uses it to fight against them. i don't think the opm would not go after luo binghe, especially with shen qingqiu out of the picture, so i'm imagining the old fuck would offer luo binghe some sort of help just to get him close. shen qingqiu wouldn't stand for it, and we know that as he gets more desperate, shen qingqiu tends toward pragmatism. he would do what needs to get done, i guess.

"stuck between a rock and a hard place" pretty much describes shen qingqiu in svsss. having that not be the system's fault, for once, would probably push him to the edge enough that he does something extremely stupid and turns the entire cultivation world against him in an attempt to protect binghe from the opm's influence.

i don't think he would go too far, outwardly. he would probably bring more harm unto himself with xin mo than binghe had, and would probably suffer more than anyone else involved. him being so tight-lipped about his own motivations would get him scorned and named a traitor to the human realm. he'd have shen jiu's reputation post-trial, maybe. he would become colder, lifeless, honed-in on his goals.

this was an extremely long-winded way of saying that shen yuan, corrupted by xin mo, would become a husk of his former self. i imagine a moment where he tries to be warm again, that whole fond teacher shtick, and would find himself horrified at how much of an act that is now, rather than acting cold and heartless. i think he'd have turned his caring into caring too much to the point of leaving himself behind.

i had a wip of shen yuan transmigrating into luo binghe and having to lean into xin mo's influence so that he could get luo binghe reinstated into his own body that i put on the shelf at some point. he ended up baiting people into trying to assassinate him, and used their sacrifice as a way to power some sort of revival technique.

shen yuan needs plausible deniability for every action he does, especially ones he sees as morally reprehensible. so. add that to the whole thing above and that's the bulk of it, i think. maybe. god please tell me i make sense i need a shizun headpat

[jungaji]

calla ❀˖°

boyfriend!jisung x composer gn!reader ♡

genre: comfort

calla, someone said that your time will be over soon

jisung watches silently as you flip through your music sheets again, your eyes distant, and fingers trembling. the weight of the notes scribbled across the pages being too much to bear, too heavy to carry.

"i can't do this anymore, sung," you murmur, voice brittle and fragile, much like a withering flower.

he doesn't respond immediately, letting your words hang in the quiet studio. his heart aches as he takes in the sight of your broken form—hair a chaotic mess, your favorite sweater wrinkled from days of wear, and dark shadows under your eyes from sleepless nights and tears that never seemed to end.

he's never seen you like this before, and it scares him.

it hurts him.

but calla, you can always grow back, oh

"my love," he says softly, hands reaching up to soothe your head, gently combing through your hair, smoothing the unruly strands that stick out.

you lean into his touch instinctively, finding comfort in the warmth of his hands, but your eyes remain fixed on the crumpled sheets in your lap. the music notes and lyrics blurring together, a cruel reminder of everything you think you've failed at.

he kneels beside you, gaze never leaving your fragile form and gently pries the crumpled pages from your hands.

you make a weak attempt to snatch them back, but jisung's grip is firm as his eyes meet yours—soft and filled with an unwavering warmth that cracks open the walls you've built around yourself.

"these notes aren't failures," he starts, his tone steady. "you're not a failure."

"but what if i am?" you whisper, voice cracking as tears start to well up in your eyes again.

"what if i'll never be able to write a song again?"

at your words, jisung's heart clenches, the weight of your pain pressing down on him. it frustrates him to see you like this—struggling and unsure, as if the spark that once burned so brightly in your heart has been put out.

if you don't have enough sunlight,

you used to live for composing. music called out to you in a way no one could understand. it was the love of your life—something jisung used to complain about, how you seemed to love your music more than you loved him.

but despite his endless complaints, jisung never resented it. he always supported you, loved seeing your passion for music, even if it meant he had to lose you to the studio sometimes.

gently, he pulls you into his arms, cradling you against his chest as his voice softens, "don't say that," he murmurs against your hair. "you have so much to give, my love. you don't have to see it all right now. you're not meant to have everything figured out at once."

hearing his words, you bury your face in his chest, trembling as your emotions flood through you. the ache in your chest feels endless, and the doubts eat away at you like an unforgiving tide.

he pulls back just enough to meet your eyes, cupping your face in his hands. "i'm here," he whispers, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. "c'mon, we'll get through this. one note at a time."

i'll blow the clouds away, calla

jisung keeps you close, his steady warmth grounding you, and only when your sobs quiet into soft hiccups does he speaks again, his voice low and soothing. "do you trust me?"

you hesitate for awhile, thoughts still clouded with uncertainty, but you eventually nod against him.

he smiles softly, brushing away the tear-streaked hair from your face before reaching for the forgotten music sheets, picking up a pen and scribbling something in big block letters across the page.

curious, you sneak a glance at the page, reading the sentence: MARK'S HAD BAD DAYS TOO.

you blink a few times, re-reading the sentence and processing the absurdity, before bursting out into a fit of giggles. jisung joins, both your laughters filling the studio and pulling you back from the edge of your despair.

"what?!" he teases, grin widening as he watches you giggle. "it's true! mark's had bad days and he still wrote, like, 200 songs."

"you and your admiration for mark..." you tease, wiping the last of your tears away.

he watches you adoringly, gaze soft with nothing but affection in his eyes. "but i admire you the most. you know that right?" the sincerity in his voice settling deep in your heart, almost like a soft embrace that promises everything will be okay.

"i know," you whisper, squeezing his hand softly. "thank you for being here, sung."

authors note: dedicated to anybody who has been struggling/overwhelmed with their work! we can get through this together, ily <3 also happy belated birthday to my lele pie (i will write for you soon... one day...)

taglist ♡: @ldh0000 @haechyuckan

[kigieri]

Resting Stars

Max Verstappen × Reader

What happens when you've reached your dreams and goals? Max Verstappen has just won his fourth world title, and before he has to race again, he shares a few moments with the most important person in his life.

A/N: Surprise fic! I had to post something for our man! Four-time World Driver's Champion! This was written very sleepily during the race, and I'm very happy with it. I hope you enjoy it.

This fic on AO3!

The flat was silent. She trotted into the kitchen after doing her morning routine in the bathroom. Max was already sitting at the table, drinking coffee from his favourite mug. He smiled when he saw her and she returned it.

His face was more contemplative than that of a fresh four time world champion should be. She made herself a tea, before sitting opposite him. "Are you still sure?" He looked at her and nodded. "Yeah, I want to do something else." She nodded too and took as sip from her mug. "Then it seems decided."

They shared a quiet breakfast before slumping down on the sofa. Their sleeping rhythm had been destroyed by Las Vegas, especially after the party they had had. Max had another race on the next weekend and there were still celebrations to be had and congratulations to be accepted, but for now they simply wanted to enjoy the peace and quiet.

"Are we going to get more cats?" She looked up at him from where she had laid her head in his lap. He shook his head. "I'm still going to race, just not F1." He looked over at the patch of sun where Donatello was laying. "When I'm old and gray and don't leave the house any more we can get more."

Silence settled over them once more, Jimmy jumped onto her stomach and rolled up, waiting for her to pat him, which she did. "It's going to be weird. Way weirder for you than for me."

He nodded his head. "Yeah, but I'm going to like it. Doing something else will be good." She looked back up at him from where her eyes had been focused on the cat. "You're going to miss it, even if you don't want to admit it."

He made a questioning face. "Won't deny that I'll miss it, but I'm going to enjoy doing something else, and I can always go back. Someone's bound to take me. But I don't think I will. I'll just enjoy life, racing, being with you, with the cats. Not a care in the world." She cuddled closer to him, if that was humanely possible, and let her eyes drift back to Jimmy.

Max looked down at her, thinking about the ring box that was securely hidden away between his Sim gear. Life would be very different, but he was more than happy with that. His time had come and gone, not in the eyes of others, but in his own. He had loved racing in F1 with his whole heart, but that heart beat for racing, not only in a single category, so he wanted to see more of the world, more of racing. There was so much to be explored, and he had reached his goals in Formula 1.

His retirement would surprise some, but not others. He would be happy with it, had made peace with it before he had voiced the idea for the first time. At this moment, while sitting with her head in his lap, looking out of the window into Monaco, he knew that this decision would change his life, but he also knew it would be a change he welcomed.

"Ik hou van je." His words were clear and steady and as she looked up at him her smile spread all over her face and her eyes were shinning. "I love you too." Max hand wandered over to hers, where she was stroking Jimmy, and squeezed it shortly, before also starting to stroke the cat. It would be a new, and very welcomed, part of his life.

@kigieri 2024. All rights reserved. Do not copy, steal, translate or repost any of my work.

[girlsoutlate]

this is my new account, so i'm reposting my 1 piece of work, hope you enjoy!!

readers thoughts are in pink, ever so light implied john price x reader, light questionable behaviour from men (not 141)

thinking about subtle sarcastic reader, especially to the type of man she'd encounter while working in the army. being a civilian and a woman many on base just looked over her, or looked too intensely at certain parts of her. but after months of working she's found her place, she's now respected by those who surround her. but what happens when some higher ups come and visit?

working closely with the 141 was no easy task. going from mundane paperwork to the flurry of action from a mission was difficult for you to handle, let alone helping them. you'd grown closer to them though, no more bouts of shyness stopping you from being yourself. instead you'd grown in to steady workplace banter with all.

unfortunately today couldn't be one of those days as some ever so important higher ups were holding a meeting with the 141, and since you handle the majority of the paperwork you were so graciously invited to attend.

you wished you had a little bit more time to prepare for this. these were important people, who wouldn't be nervous? apart from soap who appeared with a shit-eating grin at your office door, gifting you another surprise meeting. or gaz who could charm any conversation his way a bit too easily, with suave compliments and easy-going humour. don't forget ghost who doesn't even need to look engaged because of his mask, or be expected to speak due to his... unique personality. oh and the captain has been to countless of these meetings, so he can't empathise with you either.

but, one thing you could all agree on is that meetings were incredibly boring. for two reasons mostly. either the attendees were so dense it seemed they hadn't stepped on planet earth before, let alone a military base. or the subject matter was so bland you all wondered why there needed to be a meeting in the first place.

as your heels tapped hastily along the hallway you wondered which it would be. arriving barely on time with a tight clutch on haphazardly organised documents and a cup of coffee you opened the door, and had an inkling it wouldn't be any. you were met with two male voices. one high, clipped and plummy, the other harsh and american.

"-- that's what i expected from someone of her-oh hello! nice to finally meet you" the man at the head of the table said. an older, short and stout man with thin wire-rimmed glasses and a black tailored suit. a typical english man in an authoritative position. "ah, sorry i was late you'll have to excuse me. i thought to bring my extra notes, i hope i didn't make you wait long." you replied. "not at all, my colleague mr sullivan and i were discussing stories from our base". your gaze flicked over to what must be the source of the american voice. perfectly gold hair stuck down with copious amounts of gel, paired with lightly tanned skin and a too white smile didn't make it hard to guess. "civilians eh?" the taller man began "don't know what's up with the ones here, especially the woman we were just talki-"

"right" prices deep gravely voice cut over the grating one "meeting should start we're all 'ere". murmurs of agreement filled the room, and so did glances between the 141 that you didn't pick upon. however you did notice they were unusually quiet though you brushed it off, they were probably tired. "gosh where are my manners" the man at the head of the table exclaimed "my name is mr buckton and i'll be leading this meeting." briskly taking a few steps towards you he shook your hand roughly. being polite you attempted to make eye contact, yet his eyes were still looking straight ahead? lingering only on your chest for a moment he then made eye contact with you, a wide grin crept on his face. "come, your seat is next to mine" he prompted, gesturing you to walk infront of him and take your seat. as you walked infront of him his eyes now travelled further south. a small grimace shared from gaz to soap went undetected by the three sitting at the top of the table. mr buckton at the head, you to his left and then the captain and ghost next to you. opposite was mr sullivan, with gaz then soap next to him. with you all seated the meeting began.

for once the meeting was actually worth being held. despite it not being anything too serious you did well, even with your nerves. you answered questions and expanded in the points of others. as you suggested plans of action mr buckton steadily kept his eyes on you, while mr sullivan constantly scribbled notes down. soon enough the meeting was a breeze. well for about twenty minutes. across from you, mr sullivan was very inquisitive about anything you said. asking you to back it up or to show proof. not thinking much of it you obliged. it was a little odd but you knew your stuff and why not show off infront of higher ups? however the sentiment was not shared with the rest of the 141. who even asked for evidence about evidence? they understood wanting clarification on certain things, but it was growing incessant now. you were capable of your job and they knew that - that's why you were there. price especially helped you in the growing awkwardness; his job had never been so easy with you working underneath him. gaz and soap constantly gave eachother questioning glances, not wanting to explicitly speak up if their captain didn't. ghost was pissed he couldn't hide his eyes rolling as well as his scowl behind his balaclava. although they were growing increasingly annoyed the meeting continued, with more ridiculous questions being asked. professionalism was continued with a grim expression for another twenty minutes or so. hardly.

until mr sullivan basically dislocated his back by stretching in his chair with an exaggerated yawn leaving his cavernous mouth. "thought you woulda brought coffee since you kept us waiting for so long, cant believe you didn't make me some fresh". with beady eyes on you he smiled lazily. oh he has to be joking you thought to yourself there's no way this guy is real. play them at their own game. "why would i make more? i've already got some for myself" you smiled sickly back at him back, one that gaz has used on you many times when he's late giving you a report.

the table fell unusually silent again, and that's when you noticed it. the crackling of unease filling the air. sharp eyes from the 141 darted from eachother to you, to mr sullivan and back again.

"don't be so mean, i'm literally a dying man" he snarkily replied, eyeing you coolly. "one can hope" ghost muttered under his breath.

"i have urgent needs that need to be taken care of, won't you help?". mr sullivan continued, a slimy smile displayed as he noted the effect his badly hidden innuendo had on you. you felt your cheeks warm. he smirked at this, finally affecting you after bugging you the whole bloody meeting. fuck impressing him he's an arsehole.

"well, i'm sure you'll be alright by yourself. seems it happens a lot." you said back, indifferent. as soon as that left your mouth a strange sharp bark that hastily turned in to a cough came from soap. all heads from the table whipped to look at him. "pardon me" he shakily said, quickly taking a sip of his drink, watery eyes not straying from the blank wall above ghosts head.

"let's get back on track hmm?" mr buckton suggested "so cheeky, must be that time of the month". he turned to you with an eyebrow raised with an impish grin.

what. what the actual fuck. not only was this unprofessional, but who even though if that? let alone say it out loud.

price coughed uncomfortably and turned away. gaz and ghost looked at eachother in disbelief. and soap was finding that wall even more interesting. surely it could not get any worse.

"oh you all know what women are like, don't pretend. especially when they're frustrated" mr buckton let out a giggle "you know from work". you actually spluttered, eyes wide with disbelief. the feeling of unease in the air was now a full jolt of electricity. just as you felt price boiling with anger you leaned forwards to mr buckton. if everyone on the table wasn't watching you, they certainly were now.

"tell me" you said. mr buckton looked at you shocked, mouth gaping open. "tell me what women are like. you know i've been so airheaded this last week i hardly know my left from my right!". just to amp it up a little you slowly crossed your arms just underneath your chest, accentuating it. "you've explained so much to me this meeting surely you could explain this?"

the 141's eyes grew to the size of saucers, there's no way these two would actually fall for this? right? at this point mr bucktons and mr sullivans jaws were practically falling off. the latter was sadly the quickest to start talking 'so, when women start-". a smart rap in the door interrupted. a male voice said seriously

"emergency call for you mr buckton".

"oh, oh you must excuse us. i have to end this meeting" mr buckton declared "i simply cant miss this". messily shuffling their papers together both men swiftly said their goodbyes to you all. with that they just about made it out the door without tripping over their own legs.

a second passed after the door banged shut before gaz burst out in howls of laughter, clutching his ribs, soon joined by soap who could barely look at the wall for any longer. ghost stared at the door muttering who knows what under his breath and the captain sat there with his gaze fixated on the table mortified. he turned his head to you apologising profusely and asking if you're okay.

you just nodded vaguely and replied "men"

all likes, reblogs and comments are so appreciated!! this is my first time writing something properly so i hope you enjoyed it

[runraerun]

Heard a random 90s rock song & it legit got me thinking about Steve & Billy meeting again in their twenties... Like what if s3 never happened? After the fight at the Byers, Billy kept his head down & avoided Steve? I see him as being consumed by a sense of guilt/shame & yet still not being able to apologise until, that is, the day of their graduation when he's suddenly overcome with a need to just get it off his chest. He's been crushing on this guy since he got to Hawkins & he blew whatever chance he had of even just a friendship with him, but it doesn't matter now cos he's getting out of this shithole as quickly as possible, but he can't have this guilt gnawing at him any longer...So maybe he deliberately makes sure he bumps into steve at some point and mutters out a: "Harrington. We need to talk." And sucking on a cigarette like his life depends on it, hands shaking, barely making eye contact, Billy gives the world's shittiest apology. And it feels like his heart's gonna beat out of his chest & Steve's just standing there, staring at him, an unreadable expression on his face, before saying something like: "yeah, man. I'm sorry for that night too." (In my mind either Max let drop something about Billy's homelife or Steve has deduced something's not right). Anyway. Billy finally feels like he's able to breathe again for the first time in months UNTIL steve unknowingly utters the world's most devastating sentence: "I think we could've been friends if, y'know, shit hadn't gone down the way it did...oh well." And steve gives a sort of little grin and a laugh as if what he said wasn't a major deal. "Heard you're headed back to California?" Steve asks, and Billy's barely able to nod, still struck dumb by Steve's previous offhand comment. And maybe someone calls Steve's name and suddenly that's it. The moment is broken & Steve's leaving with a "Guess I'll see you around, Hargrove... or not" and a goofy little salute. And Billy thought he'd feel better. But in fact he feels worse. Because holy shit. Steve just said they could have been friends. And that's gonna haunt him for years....

Cue a few years later and they run into each other in Chicago (listen, the idea of Billy returning to California only to realise it no longer feels like home and maybe it never did consumes me), but yeah. They bump into each other accidentally and holy shit. Steve Harrington. He looks almost exactly the same. Other than the fact he's grown out the mullet and holy shit, are those highlights in his hair??? And billy's stunned by what looks like a genuine grin of delight that crosses Steve's face once he recognises who he's walked into. And maybe they chat for a little while; Billy doesn't even know what he's saying he's so in shock at meeting his highschool crush again. But just like the last time someone calls steve's name and of course steve has a girlfriend, of course he does (joke's on billy, cos it's just robin) and suddenly the moment's broken again and steve's walking away with a casual "it was good to see you again, billy" and billy is gripped with the thought that he can't let steve slip through his fingers again. how many people get a second chance like this? he can feel his old highschool crush flickering back to life where it's buried deep in his chest and maybe steve will never like billy like that but holy shit. billy still remembers the day steve said that maybe they could have been friends if things had been different and things are different now so why not take a chance??? and billy has never felt so brave or so fucking scared in his life as he does when he steps forward and calls after steve: "Hey Harrington! Wanna meet up and catch up properly some time?" and Steve's attention is back on him and goddamn. Billy didn't even realise how much he missed those eyes until now. ANyway!! This got away from me!! But 90s Harringrove pls and thank. Also the song i heard was lightning crashes by live. like the lyrics aren't even that appropriate but there's such a nostalgic feel to it.

oh my god. OH MY GOD.

Anon, this whole message has got me in a chokehold. Like, it’s such a direct hit. 🎯🎯🎯Billy choking on an apology because he’s so painfully unfamiliar with the very concept, the absolute devastation of hearing the potential of being friends with Steve was there, but he blew it, the PINING… urgh. How Steve can unknowingly fatally wound Billy just like that.

AND THEN THE HIGHLIGHTS ARE YOU JOKING?!

I hope that things get away from you many many more times, because this was incredible.

Okay okay. Now, if I may, I will now attempt to match your freak.

ahem

—

By some serendipitous fuckin’ miracle, Steve agrees to exchange digits with him. They couldn’t find a napkin or any other god forsaken scrap of paper to write on, so they just scribbled their numbers down onto each other's arm. Billy was so fucking on edge that when he was peering down at the pale expanse of Steve’s mole-speckled forearm he damn near forgot his own phone number. Jesus, he’s a wreck…

At least whenever it comes to Harrington, anyway. Dude has like, Billy’s own personal strain of kryptonite woven in through his DNA or some shit. It would explain why his hands always get clammy and his knees feel like they’re made of fucking jello every time Steve flashed those pearly whites his way.

Christ, Hargrove, get it together…

Billy had spent the rest of the week running a finger along the wobbly looking numbers, fading more and more every day. Before they fade completely through, he finally finds his balls and dials Steve’s number.

A girl picks up, which… well, Billy knows Steve has a girlfriend. He didn’t know they’re living together though… but whatever, it don’t change shit.

“Steve around?” He asks, clenching the receiver in his fist so tightly that he can hear the plastic creak.

“Who’s asking?” The girl says, sounding pleasant despite her words. Sandy-haired, freckles. Cute, Billy remembers. Harrington always did go for the cute ones.

“Billy,” he answers, “Billy Hargrove. He’ll know who I am.”

“Oh, Billy,” The girl’s voice draws out his name like it’s an answer to a question that she’d been stuck on. “It’s about time you called.”

Which. That…

What the hell does that mean?

While Billy’s puzzling it out, she hears the girl holler for Steve, telling him Billy is on the line. His name is said with a weird amount of familiarity.

Billy switches ears and shakes out the stiffness in his hand. Focuses on breathing evenly instead of the steady flow of questions suddenly piling up in his head.

“Billy?” Steve’s voice, clear as a bell, asks from the other line.

Billy clears his throat, “hey, man.”

“Hey. I was just about to call you.” Steve says, doing that thing where he so casually drops bombs onto Billy’s world, leveling his cities with a passing word.

“Beat you to it.” Billy grins, and hears the little huff of a laugh on the other line.

“Always so competitive,” Steve teases, and Billy can just hear the smile. It makes his chest ache. It’s the sweet kind of ache, though. “Haven’t you ever heard it’s not winning that matters, it’s taking part?”

Billy shakes his head even though Steve can’t see him and sneers, “sounds like some shit losers say to each other.”

That gets a genuine laugh from Steve, all breathy and sharp, and Billy feels himself laughing along from the sheer thrill of getting Steve going.

“Jesus, I forgot how much of an asshole you are.” Steve sighs, but there’s no heat behind it. Just shit talk. It’s fine. What guys do.

“Yeah yeah. Can’t change my spots, or whatever.” Billy mumbles as he scuffs his boot along the floor. Fucking antsy. Jonesing for a cigarette. Just get on with it you piece of shit. He takes a breath and then takes the plunge. “So listen, we should hang out this weekend. I know a few good bars where we could catch up. Maybe get into some trouble.”

Steve makes a scoffing sound, “what kind of trouble are we talking here, Hargrove?”

His heart jackrabbits in his chest. He loves this part. Billy brings the receiver just a little closer to his lips. “The fun kind, Harrington.” He murmurs, voice pitched low.

There’s a brief, unbearably tense couple of seconds where Steve doesn’t speak. He just lets Billy dangle like a hooked fish. Static from the line. He doesn’t breathe. Then.

“Friday at 8?” Steve tosses the offer out, real casual-like. And with it, Billy feels the muscles around his neck and shoulders relax, like he got shot with a tranquilizer dart. Steve continues, “You wanna meet at the same coffee shop from before? I live in the apartment building just across the street from it.”

Fancy, Billy thinks. Of fuckin’ course. All the buildings on that block are the high end kind; with door men and balconies and working elevators. Billy only ever finds himself in that leg of the city when a pipe bursts or a sink gets clogged and Billy gets called in to fix it. Of course Steve’s living in the lap of luxury here in Chicago. Mommy and Daddy’s only child. Not that it’s his fault, Billy supposed. Some people are just born luckier than others.

“Sure, rich boy,” Billy grins, “bring your appetite though, I’m buying nachos.”

Steve heartily agrees. Because obviously. Who the hell could say no to that? Rich or poor, nachos are nachos.

It ain’t a date. It ain’t. It’s just two guys hanging out, y’know, catching up. For old times sake. Getting into some trouble, like Billy said. It ain’t date.

So what if he calls and asks Heather to pre-approve his outfit when everything he owns suddenly looks stupid on him? And who cares that he dabs double the amount of cologne onto his chest and triple down his pants—Billy likes to smell good, it ain’t a big deal. He wears a silver chain around his neck, the one that matches his earring, and undoes a few more buttons than usual to show it off. It’s cold this time of year but he figures they’ll be inside for most of the night anyway. Drinking, shooting pool, tossing darts. Shit like that.

Billy chain smokes as he waits outside of the coffee shop, sucking back one cigarette after the other, trying not to think about how he’s about to see Steve fucking Harrington again; the one who got away. Or, one one Billy never even fucking had a chance with in the first place, more like. He keeps wondering if he’s making a mistake. If he should just go home, forget he ever ran into that long legged, poofy haired, Bambi-eyed—

But then Steve’s there, handing Billy some froo-froo drink from inside (somehow they’d missed each other???) before he starts giving Billy a hard time for still not having a proper winter coat. Steve’s got highlights in his hair and eyeliner on his lower lashline and a spot of foam from his drink on the tip of his nose and Jesus fuck.

Billy’s in trouble.

[aceingonthecake]

Very Personal Take on Good Omens

I've always related more to Crowley. It has always been easier for me to understand them than Aziraphale, especially in s1. Don't get me wrong, I've adored Aziraphale since day one too, I just think that, personality wise, we have less traits in common.

However, since the end of s2, I've been able to really feel for Aziraphale and immediately found myself defending them and their final decision. I won't lie and tell you that, at the beginning, I didn't feel angry and even a little betrayed at all, but once I cooled down and thought about it with a clear mind I got it. And, later, I also got the reason why I was feeling so defensive about Aziraphale.

Last year I broke up with my partner, with whom I also had a lot of mutual friends. I was the one to call it off and I did it because there were some dynamics I couldn't tolerate anymore, but I still loved them and I suffered a lot (still do sometimes). Still, I knew it was the right thing to do for the both of us and I never regretted it.

The thing is, the friends we had in common never really bothered to check up on me: I was the one to call it off and I was the one who'd always appeared emotionally stronger, so why would I be suffering? However, they comforted my ex multiple times, sometimes right after I'd gone home, because they just burst into tears in front of everyone. Obviously, I was very sad and cried a lot too, I just avoided doing it in front of our mutual friends to avoid creating sides (when we broke up we promised this to each other).

Connecting all of this to Good Omens, I believe that something like that is happening in the fandom too. A lot of people are hyper focusing on Crowley's pain because it's more obvious and understandable to them, while they're painting Aziraphale as the "bad one" who broke their heart and doesn't care about them just because they were the one who made the difficult decision. And, while I understand it's easier to see it that way, I also think it's not actually that hard to dig a little deeper.

Just because someone's pain is more evident doesn't mean they were the only one to get hurt and didn't hurt back too. Crowley hurt Aziraphale too, even if we might not see it immediately or as clearly as the other way around. They're both suffering, there is no right and wrong side, they both made mistakes and, nonetheless, it's no doubt they love each other and deserve a happy ending.

I hope this makes sense. It's a very emotionally charged analysis so, even if you don't agree, be polite about it please. I know I didn't get too much into what happened in the final 15, but I've already made (and I'll make) other specific posts about it. This one was more of an emotional take.

I'd also like to underline that none of this is a contest about who's hurting more. It's an invitation not to take for granted other people's feelings but actually try and understand both sides of a situation, even if we naturally relate to or understand one more than the other. (Of course, this doesn't apply to toxic relationships).

[fictionalslvr]

The cute barista keeps messing up your name, so you gotta teach him up.

You didn't know how to stop. It all started with a simple coffee after a long and tiring day of work. And suddenly, you're going to the cafeteria every. single. day. In fact, your motive was one at the beginning, but right now, it was another. The bell sounded again, that sound is now ignored by your brain every time you enter that glass door with the paper “open” sign. There was no wait, no time for reaction, and Leon is already turning to where you're turned, his eyes going slightly different from seeing you. You knew his name. Besides being written on his badge, he was happy to tell you again when you two met. The complete opposite for you, that already told Leon your name a few…times.

The first time he asked was casual, only to write on your order cup. And he got it wrong. You actually frowned when you saw your cup, with your name spelled wrong. But how could you correct him at this point? He was calling you wrong each time he saw you, it was clearly…embarrassing to say it now.

—”You're here, it's nice to see you another day.” — His lips pursed slightly up, that colgate smile appearing again like he's Superman or some superhero to smile so beautifully. You ducked your head down, giving him a nod while walking to his counter.

—”It's weird if I always order the same as always?”

—”Of course not, I was actually waiting for that. You're the only one who asks for the pumpkin latte.”

Your eyes went wide. How couldn't people like that marvelous and heavenly drink?? Your reaction certainly was funny to Leon, because he giggled at it.

But you had to correct him. Tell him your real name if you want to take a step ahead of your friendship. And nothing better but to teach him in some private way.

—”That's…not my name.” — Leon's eyes almost bugged out his eyeballs. He stared at you like you just insulted him. But his cheeks turning crimson told you he was feeling guilty for that.

—”Tell me. I need to know your name properly. And so sorry…f-for saying it wrong all this time.”

You smiled, your hands pursuing his cheeks and cupping it until he was melting into your touch. His blue eyes were almost lurking for you. And when you said your name, he was…amazed. He tasted it like a mantra, like a pray in his tongue, like you were everything he was missing all his life.

—”Please…please punish me for messing everything up.” — It's your time to get surprised. You didn't expect the cute barista to be so whiny.

—”Then say my name, say it properly now that you know it.”

Your other hand was already in his dick, holding it so gently he couldn't feel your touch the way he longed for. Leon moved his hips forward, begging with actions for more of your hands around him. But you didn't, not until he said your name so gracefully.

—”That's better, now be a good boy and I'll give you what you want, alright?”

—”Of course! Everything for you. I wanted this for so long, y-you can't even imagine.” — His head fell into your shoulders, he was weak, his body was in the temperature as someone with a fever. In fact, maybe he has a fever right now.

You couldn't imagine. No. You couldn't imagine that big round eyes were practically begging for you after so many visits at the cafeteria. You couldn't imagine the cute barista was so needy. But at least, he won't mess up your name in your next orders.

[clothandclockwork]

They shouldn't have been able to make the journey in their condition, but they did. they had to.

Sure, the journey could have killed them, but what choice did they have? Just existing was painful to them, and not taking this journey would have killed them anyways.

There was something wrong with them. Something very wrong. No doctors could heal them of their affliction, no therapist could make them feel okay with it. The only one who might have a solution...

...had to be a witch.

So they pushed through their problems, over treacherous terrain, beyond anywhere they had ever been. It would have been difficult for a normal person, but for them - who by all means should never have been able to get this far - it was nothing.

Nothing compared to what they have felt, or what they could gain and lose.

The final stretch was through a dark forest... which opened up to a beautiful garden fighting back weeds, and a humble cottage patched by someone clearly inexperienced but well-meaning.

They knocked on the door, and prepared their nerves for meeting the witch.

The witch wasn't like they were expecting at all, and yet very much what they were expecting. She was... about human, more or less, though definitely more or less. Her skin was flawless yet pale, her eyes deep yet cold and dull. Her black hair was down to the back of her fancy red and black dress, and looked silky smooth but off in some way. She was taller than them, but in a way that looked like someone shorter was stretched out. But she was clearly a witch.

She even had the pointy hat.

After the shock wore off, they tensed up and forced themself to speak. "Miss Witch... I... I need help. I can't... turn to anyone else... please listen... to my problem."

The witch spoke with a lighter, softer voice than they were thinking. They expected power... of confident dominance or of arrogant distain, of even firm kindness. But this... this wasn't far from their own nervous voice.

"This one is not the-" she began, her arms wrapped around herself, but then went into deep contemplation. When she next spoke, she stood up straighter and let her arms out wide as if to hug them.

"That's right. This one is the witch. This one has been the witch for some time now. Please, tell the witch your problems and maybe you shall receive what you have come for."

The odd way of speaking concerned them for a moment, but they've never heard a witch speak before. Maybe this is just how they talk?

So they explained their problems, their pains, their dooms. And she listened. Finally, they wrapped up their explanation with a plea.

"Please... take away... my pains... my fears... don't let it... don't let it end me..."

The witch closed her nearly-lifeless eyes, breathing slowly as she thought. "This one may have a solution... but... the witch must warn you. Not only is there a price - and no, not money - but... the witch is not that skilled or powerful. The solution would be... inelegant. Crude. Imperfect."

"I'm already... all those things. And I'll... pay any price... but... I don't know what... I have to offer."

"This one already knows what the price is. You will not be in pain or be afraid any more, but your life will not be what you are used to. You-"

"Whatever it is... please do it."

"Very well."

The witch put a hand on their shoulder... and their arm immediately went numb. They tried to move it, but nothing happened; it hung limply by their side. A moment of fear crossed their face, but it quickly vanished. This was what they wanted, after all.

The numbness spread throughout their body - through their chest which felt no more heartache, through their legs which no longer had to carry them through all this, through the other arm which no longer needed to hold any burden... and finally to their finally-smiling face.

They felt nothing, blissfully free of feeling for a short eternity, before they felt something new.

They felt a weird sensation over their skin, though it was more like a sensation where their skin should be. It did not feel like part of them. Nothing felt like part of them. But slowly... new parts of them made themselves known. Fabric replaced flesh, as their mind reconnected to their body. Their eyesight - which was like watching a video of someone watching a video - became blank until they were looking out of buttons. What's happening to m- to m... to- they tried to think, though even their mind began to shift. The noisy polluted traffic of their mind was being cleared out, simple replacing complex. Everything became hazy, but then clearer than it had been for forever. No more pain, no more suffering, just pure, simple, one-at-a-time thoughts. They were slowly losing themself, but somehow still completely and totally them.

What's happening to this one? It doesn't understand? It? This one? But this one is a pers... peron.. .pesers... doll.

Of course it was a doll! Why wouldn't it be? It always has been a doll, watching over that poor person. That poor, always suffering, person. That person wasn't suffering any more, now. It had to let go of them. It was free from them. This was a happy moment.

Then why did it feel like crying?

"It's okay," the witch said. "This one knows you must be going through a lot."

"What did you do," the doll asked, as the world and the witch grew larger and larger. "What did you do to it? Why does it feel so weird? What happened to the person that came here?"

"This one is sorry. This was the only way to save you. The person... became the doll you are."

"It doesn't understand... but... does that mean that person no longer is suffering? Is this doll... okay?"

"Are you okay?"

The doll was finally able to move. It put its fingerless ragdoll hand to its fabric chin. "Hm... it thinks so. What does this one look like?"

"Well... this witch is sorry, but..." She grabbed a hand mirror, and showed the results. The inelegant, crude, imperfect results. She was waiting for more tears from the inexpertly-crafted doll.

The ragdoll smiled. "This one looks beautiful."

[writings-of-a-rando]

To anyone reading this congratulations. It means that you're about to make a nice living. The down side? You're about to enter a world you never wanted to. When I started i was just as clueless as you are. This is why I wrote this: The Hellyard Survival Guide. Contrary to the name this place isn't so bad. I'll start with the rules of this place, and than move onto the spirits that appear.

Rule 1. The graveyard HAS to have someone in it at night. If a living isn't here than they can get out.

Rule 2. Once midnight comes you won't be able to get out. So make sure you have everything you need for the night. Make sure to bring books. Electronics don't work once midnight comes.

Rule 3. The shack you're in is the safest place to be as long as you DO NOT touch the runes. Made that mistake my second night. Those runes are there to protect you in case the really violent ones come out.

Rule 4. Treat the dead with respect. They're not all bad or evil. Some of them are just enjoying their afterlife here.

Rule 5. NEVER accept anything from them. If you take something into that shack they can get in. If you take it home they come with you.

Rule 6. They all have unfinished business. If you can help them resolve it than do it. If it works than they'll be able to move on. However none of them remember what that unfinished business is. So it's all guess work.

You'll probably ignore some or all of these rules. So until you finish your first night I don't recommend going any further. You need to truly believe what is next before you continue. If you didn't just toss this in the bin. Lucky for you I embedded the leather with runes that protect it. And call it back here.

Now, let's start with the types of spirits you'll encounter. I'll go from least to most harmful. And if you encounter ANYTHING non-human than you get your ass back to the shack, and you hunker down. More on that in a bit.

First are the roamers. They just walk around, acknowledge you, and keep going. Some of them will stop and engage in conversation. They are the best source of information for who, and what, is out.

Next are the triksters and screamers. These ones are just going to scare the shit out of you. They do all kinds of things, and will mimic roamers. These are usually children, or those who had tragic deaths. Their bodies usually have marks, or are younger than roamers.

Next are geists. They can touch you. But that's about it. Sometimes when they touch you you'll get a premonition. It's in your best interest to follow-up on it.

Second to last are Ghouls. They've possessed their old bodies. Take a shovel and give them a good whack to the head. Than return them in the right grave.

Finally are demons. DO NOT ENAGE THEM. GET YOUR ASS TO THE SHACK AND BUNKER DOWN! The one way you'll know that they're out is that only the ghouls will be out.

Feel free to add to this guide if anything new happens.

You've been hired to clean a graveyard every night for 80 bucks an hour. Its haunted. And by god you are going to make that 80 bucks an hour

[cheshiresense]

Oh my God, you mentioned wanting to write a thing about when Starrk finally let's his reiatsu out, and honestly, I've been thinking about that so much!!! Like here is Starrk, who has been keeping his reiatsu down to around average, who sleeps all the time, so doesn't stand out, who stands beside Ichigo, Ichigo who crazy stands out, also Starrk who joins the 4th, the 4th who everyone else considers to be weaklings!! You imagine the look on everyone's face the first time he let's lose!?! Maybe some bullying goes too far, and Starrk, who nobody thinks much of, just smacks them down hard!!! And everyone is like WTF lol 😆

sorry, I just love the idea of when people realize that Starrk is actually strong like Ichigo!! So 😁 funny!! Anyway, thanks for sharing your thoughts about this. I love reading them.

Lol yes it's one of those scenes that you see happen in so many different ways and all of them would be fun. I'm undecided on how I want to do it Officially so I'm putting it off (or maybe I'll just write several of them lmao).

I imagine it would have to be very serious bullying for Starrk to take that much action, cuz like he really isn't the sort to step in for every little thing. If it happens to someone he considers one of his, he might note it down and then quietly go and prevent it from happening again from behind the scenes, but in real time, he'd rather diffuse the situation or leave it to the "victim" to handle it and only step in if it looks like they really can't, and even stepping in would just be a sharp word or two to run the bully off. He's not a straightforward bleeding heart the way Ichigo is, cuz the hit-the-problem-so-it's-no-longer-a-problem method is def Ichigo's go-to strategy, he would absolutely smack the shit out of someone bullying Asuka or Rangiku in front of him and be done with it right then and there, prob flaring his reiatsu without even meaning to cuz his control's a lot better these days but it's also kind of 0 to 50, well-hidden or flashing neon sign, no in-between unless he really concentrates 😂 It's another reason Starrk would have little reason of his own to act, cuz like Ichigo would absolutely beat him to it.

For me, I could prob imagine him unleashing his reiatsu/revealing his strength if someone's about to die and the threat is big enough that he actually has to flex. He's just not someone who'd easily show what he can do, and hiding it from the likes of Aizen and the Quincy wouldn't even be his top reason. It's more like lingering PTSD--his strength doesn't bother him anymore now that he's had years of proven control under his belt, and he's even needed every last bit of his power over the past decade of war, but subconsciously, he's still not 100% comfortable with just letting anyone feel it, even tho he has enough control now that it wouldn't hurt them unless he wants it to because what if? So like, his first instinct will always be to keep it locked down, and for minor stuff (altho minor is relative for him I guess lolol), pulling out that much power is def a last resort.

Again, it contrasts what Ichigo would do. Ichigo's just used to overkill. Like even before he got his powers, he learned that an overwhelming show of strength would solve most of his gangster-related problems very easily, plus he lived in a household where Isshin only backed off from kicking him into a wall or something by kicking first or kicking back. And then after he got his powers, it's not even really his fault that he internalized a "might is right" kind of mindset /points at the entire fucking SS invasion arc and honestly every arc after that/. And also he spent his first years of Shinigami-ing running around with an unsealed Zanpakutou and zero reiatsu control, being in a constant state of Shikai is natural for him, and (moving into this AU's headcanon territory) it took him several months into the Quincy War before he finally learned to seal it away and actually have other ways of fighting that isn't just flinging Getsuga Tenshous around. He uses Bankai the way other people use hand-to-hand combat or Kidou spells, so even now, his first instinct is to just hit the problem hard enough so that it won't get back up to do more harm, and for him, that applies to everything from schoolyard bullying to fighting monster-gods. And on top of all that, his actions are largely driven by emotion. More than anything else, his first reflex is to protect, and that often leads to him throwing way more power at a threat than he actually needs to. He knows how to be more subtle these days, but it's not his preferred method and def not a reflex either the way it is with Starrk.

Of course, Starrk also understands "might is right" just by dint of being a Hollow, but he's basically spent a thousand years as someone too strong for anyone to fuck with just by existing, so he doesn't have the same kind of exposure to physical conflict that Ichigo grew up with that would make violence his first instinct.

Aanndd omg this ran away from me lmao sorry, you get a speedrun analysis on Starrk and Ichigo instead 😅

TLDR I'm still not sure of any exact scenarios that would force Starrk to show his hand, I don't want to wait until a Sternritter shows up or a final showdown vs. Aizen happens because that would take forever before we get there (I mean I could just jump right in there since this isn't a whole fic, but in-universe-timeline-wise, I'd prefer it happening earlier), but it's difficult for me to imagine that something in everyday life or even just a Hollow extermination mission would be enough to make him reveal even a bit of what he can really do.

Case in point, if you remember that mission in SP canon where Shunsui brings Ichigo and Rangiku along on a mission into the Rukongai to gain experience, and Ichigo sees a Hollow about to attack Shinji who hadn't spotted it yet, but he also didn't want to leave Rangiku unprotected, he went straight for unsealing his Zanpakutou and basically hand-delivering a shopping list of unusual or downright unique abilities to Aizen via Gin. In this AU, if Starrk goes along, he would never do such a thing, and in fact, he'd stop Ichigo and just fire a damn Byakurai or something across the clearing and kill it that way. Even if Ichigo doesn't have the finesse to pull off a low-numbered Kidou spell on the fly, he could've chosen a higher-numbered one and that would've still revealed far less to Aizen than unsealing his Zanpakutou would. But again, subtlety isn't his strong suit. He now at least has the presence of mind to think about the consequence of leaping into the fray without thought, it would leave Rangiku wide open, but his first instinct is still to use overwhelming strength to protect the people he cares about.

In contrast, Starrk may be a soft touch compared to basically every other Hollow and quite a few Shinigami, but he has the maturity and just the general personality to go for the strategic option. He has a far more tactical mind, implied even in canon to rival Shunsui in that department, so rushing in just isn't in his nature.

The only other way imo is if someone just... asks. Reikaku (reiatsu-sensing) is a thing Shinigami learn. In canon people can sense exactly who's coming just by their reiatsu (if they know them), not just if they're a Shinigami or a Hollow or even a Human, but it doesn't really expand on how. So I imagine you have to have a good feel for the person's reiatsu, it's the same as my age headcanon for reiatsu, not only can someone halfway decent at sensing reiatsu be able to get an idea of the other person's age, they would also be able to recognize and associate that reiatsu signature with that person since everybody's is different, but obviously they would have to be exposed to it a few times to learn it. Starrk's reiatsu is very unique so once or twice would be enough, and I can see a situation where the kids might ask to feel it for that reason, or a mission might require the team leader to ask, etc. etc. So yeah, that's all I got.

[laswells-ashtray]

ALRIGHT LAST REQUEST BUT.. more young Price bull shittery(I was the one who made the first YP shenanigans). I find it hilarious how MacMillan handles him as if he were some feral cat.

How do you think he’d react to his superiors or another team’s captain disciplining John? The sergeant is gonna sass off to them either way, but what if someone oversteps to the point where his captain has to step in?

Also, I wanna see how you think he came across Nikolai. What does Mac think of the criminal pilot? lol

Sergeant John Price is an arsehole of the biblical variety. MacMillan is aware of it, anyone with ears who has ever made the mistake of interacting with John is aware of it. Despite it all, MacMillan is fond of him. In the same way one is fond of a stray cat. It's scruffy, grubby and smelly but you scratch behind it's ears anyway.

He knows John has a blatant disrespect for authority, he's been on the end of it so many times that it's starting to get funny. And he's fully aware of it extending to other captains or lieutenants, sometimes rightfully so, sometimes he's just being pissy. But John is his sergeant, what's most important is that the disrespectful little fucker is his disrespectful little fucker.

So, the day John kicks off at a lieutenant in a team they're working with, he isn't surprised. Hell, John's defending him.

"Captain, I think you'll find that my team is more capable for this situation so I should lead the entry." It's a daft lieutenant who has been getting on his tits all day, thinks he's Billy big bollocks because he has a few poxy bits of metal stapled to his perky little A cups. He's wrong, his team isn't more competent and they all know it but clearly, his captain is all but tonguing his hole if he has that level of overconfidence.

He doesn't get a chance to respond to him and he wasn't stupid enough to think he would.

John openly laughs at the man, rolling his eyes as he glances between the lieutenant and back to MacMillan. "Your team wouldn't know their bloody cocks from their coccyx if you asked them about it. Only way anyone would let your team lead is if they wanted shrapnel lodged in their sac."

He can see the man clenching his fists when he looks over at John, the typical reaction for that level of disrespect especially in front of a group but the sergeant is right. Letting the lieutenant lead would end in avoidable injury for almost everyone involved.

What he doesn't anticipate is the other team's captain stepping forward and clasping a firm hand on John's shoulder with a grip that is undoubtedly painful and deliberate. Captain Penfold, new to the position and smug about the rank as if it was anything but more work. MacMillan had interacted with him once years ago when he was a barefaced wee dickhead and had spent the rest of the night drinking to forget having to have interacted with him.

"Sergeant Price, I'd recommend you watch how you talk to my men before I have you written up for insubordination. Talking to a higher-ranking officer like that would've earned you a black eye where I was trained, I wouldn't be surprised if one of my soldiers offered you the same and I wouldn't feel inclined to stop them."

MacMillan is aware of two things, he inherited his mother's temper and his father's lack of tolerance for smarmy Englishmen, especially the ones who think talking with that fancy fucking accent makes them the most intelligent in the room.

Grabbing the man's collar and all but yanking him off of John doesn't take much thought, and it takes even less effort. He pulls the bastard close to him, staring down at his fuck ugly face and into those big beady eyes, highlighting the height difference that the other captain had been oh so testy about.

"David, if you so desire than I can assure you, I'll let you take that warehouse all on your own. Prove your talents that you're so eager to brag about. But if you put a hand on my sergeant again or if any one of your soldiers do then I can assure you that you won't be left with a black eye, you'll be left with a tight wee hole for your lieutenant to ram his prick in as he so eagerly desires and your own measly cock stuffed in your mouth to keep you quiet. Now, I want to hear that diplomatic apology that the fancy rich-boy school you went to taught you to hand out or you can promptly kiss my fucking arse and handle this mission yourself. You twisted wee knob gobblin' shitebag."

God bless the captain because he tries to defend himself, he does. But MacMillan isn't in the mood to fucking listen.

"I'll leave you standing there, dicks in the wind. If I need to discipline my sergeant or any of my soldiers, I'll do so as I see fit but until that cunt at your side learns his fucking place then I see no issue letting my men point out the flaws in his poxy fucking plan. Do I make myself fuckin' clear, Captain?"

John tries to pull him back and it should be enough of a sign that he's pushed it far enough but he stands firmly in place, grip tightening on the prick's collar.

"I work with you not for you and until you can make a plan that doesn't needlessly put my men at risk then we are done here. You can come and find me when you're ready to apologise and listen, until then neither you nor your lieutenant have a word to say to any of my men. And if you want tae play it up wae the brass then I'll let evdy ken exactly why your Da ended up in Barlinnie."

Only then does he let the other man go, taking a brief moment to enjoy the look of fear that passes over his face as he stumbles backwards. He doesn't bother listening to the dribble from the captain or the lieutenant as he drags John out of the room by the crook of his elbow.

They walk in silence as MacMillan leads them outside so he can smoke that fag he's been desperately craving since he stepped into the room with them all. He's surprised it takes John so long to ask when the young sergeants looks at him curiously.

"You've mentioned Barlinnie before, I thought it was a prison."

"It is."

"Oh. Oh."

Now, for MacMillan and his opinion's of Nik.

At first, the Scot thinks nothing of the Russian man. He's useful and he doesn't get on MacMillan's tits. Win-win. Then he catches John watching the Russian one day when he thinks no-one's looking.

They've never had the talk but John's never mentioned a bird at home and he's seen him slip off with another bloke "for a smoke" when they were at a bar, the lad came back with his fly down. He knows, he thinks John knows he knows but they never talk about it.

"Stare at his arse any harder and you might burn a hole through his jeans, John boy." He takes great joy in the way the younger man jumps at the sound of his voice.

"I wasn't- Don't blood call me that, I'm a grown man." A grown man who struggles to tie his own tie, aye right.

"Talk to him, lad." He wants John to be happy, wants him to succeed so that one day he has a sergeant that is as much of a pain in the arse for him as John is now but more importantly he wants John to have someone. The younger man might be a fanny on the best of days but he's one of the most efficient men that he has and he needs something other than the job before it gets him killed.

That line of thinking lasts approximately two weeks. Then the incident happens.

"John, are you- Jesus, Mary, mother of fuck. Put it away. In my fucking office? You clatty bastard."

"Mac, you were supposed to be away-"

"Take the Russian and get your bare arse off ma fuckin' desk. You little deviant."

"Yes, sir."

[aychama]

G: YOU MOTHER FUCKER

The goat punched the other again. They were already bloody and bruised from fighting. Lambert backed, coughing up the blood.

G: What the FUCK were you thinking!? They gave you a purpose, a new start at life, you ungrateful piece of SHIT!

L: I know! And I also know that it would all end when they no longer needed us or found someone stupider to their work!

G: Bullshit. They promised-

L: PROMISED? Pfft ha-! Hahahaha!

Lambert laughed. They were laughing at the stupidity of the situation. Other one gritted their teeth, clenching their blood stained fists.

L: And you believed that? What did they promise you huh?

G: None of your business! Shamura proposed stuff they never did to other people! Once I get your head to him for what you did to them, to me, I'll have everything I want!

Goat tried to punch him again. This time, his wrist was caught by Lambert painfully, twisted and forced to get on the ground.

G: Gah-!

L: What did they promise you? Your safety? No longer having to worry about being hunted down? Or is the promise of giving you the crown once their times up? Come on... We're better than this!

The lamb said harshly. They knew every one of those lies. They weren't dumb.

L: You think someone as knowledgeable as Shamura doesn't know how to manipulate people like you? People like us? They are good at taking from the vulnerable, giving empty hopes with eye catching promises.

G: Fuck you.

Lambert let go of his wrist and took a few steps back. Goat looked at them curious and judgmentally

G: I don't believe you. You yourself are a manipulator. How the hell did you convince the red crown to lend you power?

L: I didn't... He gave it to me himself. But I'm not trying to convince you anyway. You don't have to believe me, follow me, help me... But to think I'd let you come in here and kill me is just ridiculous.

G: So what now? Do you expect me to just stop coming after you after what you did? People know me as someone that never let their prey ran off, can't risk that reputation.

L: No, I'm expecting anything from you. (It's a waste of time anyway) All I need is for you to think about this, make a choice and understand. Shamura is not someone you can trust.

G: I don't need to understand. Nor do I care if you can or not trust Shamura. In this world, people like you and me either do as told or become dinner. And, you're the main dinner they crave. Don't be stupid, Lambert.

L: (That's quite poetic actually) If Shamura wants to kill me, they can come and try for themselves, no need to get YOU involved. Tho, you said it yourself that you're doing this to be not on their bad side. If you're tired of being a vessel for their needs, this isn't the way to freedom... You will, NEVER get that by simply doing what they want.

G: Freedom? Ha! It's rich coming from you. Like you did any better! You betrayed Shamura for what? To be that damned cat's lap dog, to sit when says and stand when he wants. (Or maybe things I don't want to mentally imagine) You, put all your self respect, dignity and name aside to get toyed around by someone like him. Is this what you call "freedom"?

Goat walked towards them, making Lambert take a few steps back.

G: That's not freedom. Or maybe you want that. Maybe you make him think that he's in control to betray him later on. He was being nice after all. You love hurting the ones that help you the most, right?

L: Now you're just saying random words What? Is this some kind of way to make me feel bad? If there's a lap dog here, it's you. You don't get to act like you didn't do what ANYONE asked of you just to feel like you accomplished something worth mentioning! You can continue to obey Shamura and beg them to keep you afterwards but be aware that they'll put you back where they found you! I'm gonna do what I need to do to live my way, either with you or without you! So don't- ACK!

The goat launched at them, their hands around the other's throat. Goat didn't like those words, at all. The lamb choked, scratching the hands on their throat. Goat was angry, shaking as they watched the other struggle.

G: You think you can just backstab everyone who trusts you and don't face the consequences of it!? Like how you thought I'd forgive you, after you left me in that prison!? They caught you and I did everything to help you! And I waited, waited and waited for MONTHS! IS THAT YOUR FREEDOM!? You... Selfish... Ignorant... BASTARD!

Their heartbeat filled their ears, anger consuming the goat. The blood dripping from their nose hit Lambert's wool, joining the other's own stains.

G: You left me to die. And you dare to criticize what I do to survive!? If it wasn't for me, you'd be devoured whole in a feast! We did everything together! We helped each other out! But you!? It's only you! I trusted you!

Lambert stopped his struggle, instead looking up to their... friend. Maybe one of the worst things they've done. The only thing they regretted so far.

G: What did I ever do to you!?

The goat punched them again and again. But when they got no response, they let go

G: Answer me. Don't you have a snarky come back to that? Can't even deny that you are the worst fucking friend?

L: ...

They sat up, their lip busted and nose broken. The tension and the eye contact was too uncomfortable.

L: You're right. I did that. I am, a bad friend.

G: ...

L: You're not just here because of Shamura are you? You don't care about what they want or what they told you at all.

G: Yeah. I'm here because you're a piece of shit, a backstabbing manipulator and you owe me. Did you even tried to-

L: I did... I tried to help you out.

Upcoming tears already burned his eyes. Lambert took a deep breath.

L: Maybe I didn't try hard enough. I-I know it's no excuse but, but I tried... I'm sorry. I'm so sorry... I know, I know it means so little to you and I know you don't want to hear me say it. With all this shit going on... When Shamura started to go out their way and what happened between me and the king... The things I felt and couldn't even understand at the Festival... What I had to do to prove myself, my worth and all the thoughts about not being good enough... for anyone. These aren't excuses. They shouldn't be... I was supposed to be there for you. But please believe me when I say this, I never wanted to hurt you. And if I loose you now, or already did, I would never forgive myself for making you feel like I didn't care...

Lambert was crying when he finished talking. They couldn't face the goat anymore. Years of friendship and they ruined it. The goat took a step forward. And another. Lambert assumed they'd left but...

G: (You crybaby)

The goat hugged them. So they hugged back. It was quiet for a moment... The the goat backed away.

G: If I knew you were this much of a loser... But hey. Neither of us are made in heaven. We're both shitty. And I rather be shitty with you.

L: You...

G: I'm still angry and fuck you, you know.

They smiled at Lambert, then sighed.

G: But who else do we have other than each other? So stop crying! (It makes you look uglier than you already are.) I'll forgive you for a while, aight? Cuz I know you'd miss me

L: Fuck you... Heh...

G: Same to you. So-!

The goat pulled the lamb to their feet

G: When are we killing this giant spider?

Awwww this is adorable!

Thank you for writing this it actually shows me how much I have or haven't shared about my story so far and gosh its a lot djkfllf

And gosh Lambert just taking the punches from Goat, ouch

I love the back and forth the two have here and Goat being promised stuff from Shamura is a nice touch!

Goat calling Lambert a crybaby is so cute xD and I adore the hug ❤️

[gor3sigil]

"But whyyyy did u transition if it's to be gender non comforming/still dress "like a girl"/not change your gender marker/yada yada"

Why ? Because I can. As privileged as it sounds, I want to show everyone that it's a path worth taking. Because I firmly believe that people should do whatever the fuck they want if it makes them more comfortable in their skin. Because I got told all my fucking life that my body didn't belong to ME, but to my future husband, to my parents, to society, and if I could eat back my freshly cut uterus you bet your ass I would. To show that I can cut up parts of myself and swallow them back if I PLEASE.

And you can too. You can choose for this path for yourself today, tomorrow, in 10 years, I'll be right there and I'll tell you "oh, nice to meet you !" If you want to start over or "nice to see you again" if you want to just go on. We can celebrate, we also can just smile and keep living like nothing has changed, whatever floats your boat, because I know that sometimes I felt like partying on a new birthday, sometimes I just wanted to feel like every thing was still in the same place has before. As I was changing, it was reassuring to see the world stay the same around me, like a steady floor I could jump on without it crashing down under my feet.

We're living scary times. But when I hear about the trans elders who came out in the 70s (thanks MardiPants for her testimonies), and see how few of them survived to tell their tales, I feel like we have wayy more ways to protect each other now than before.

So let's do it, okay ? Let's protect each other. And when I say that, let me be super clear: let's protect EVERYONE. If someone falls, we stop, and we help. We don't run ahead and expect people to catch up. If someone falls, we stay with them, and when they're up and ready to go on, then we walk together. This is the only way we'll ever make consistent, long-lasting progress, not the false victories that only benefit the Chosen Ones(TM). These victories aren't victories.

Take care of yourselves and keep a close eye on your community. Lend a hand if you can, when you can. Even if it's just one time, it can make a big difference.

[star-suh]

The Nastiest

Johnny Suh x Male Reader

cw: mafia au, reader is a sick pervert, dom top johnny, toxic relationship, enemies to fuck-enemies, knife play, “marking”, blowjob, pain kink(?), breeding, degradation, hair pulling, cum as lube, fingering, choking, dacryphilia.

an: this is in the same universe as this jaehyun mafia fic.

—

the city is dominated by many mafias but only two of them are the best of the best they're the most dangerous and respected by the other gangsters wannabes. in one of them there's a very skilled sick fuck pervert boy, he fucks anyone who passes in front of him… well except for one person, johnny suh.

he is part of the other mafia, a direct rival of the mafia yn belongs to, one thing about him is that he despises yn a lot. he has tried to kill him so many times but in the end he regrets it, arguing that “he does not deserves to be shot by one of his bullets”.

one day johnny was walking down the street when he heard whimpers in a dark alley, as if someone was getting beat up. yes, he was in the mafia but he is still a good person looking out for everyone's well-being, except yn's tho.

“hey what are you two doing” johnny pulled out a gun and pointed it at them, gesturing for them to leave, and they did. he turns around seeing how both guys were running and just when he was going to ask the other person if he was okay, the cold metal of a gun is placed right behind his head. "son of a bitch i was having fun", that voice... that familiar and disgusting voice… "it was you… if i had known, i would have let them kill you" johnny says it without any emotion on his face, hell, yn didn't even deserve his anger. "you say that but i know that deep down you want to do it" a twisted smile making its way onto his face, "you're right" in one smooth move johnny manages to take the gun from yn and hits him with his knee in the stomach leaving him lying on the ground trying to catch air "if you want me to kill you that bad, i’lll do it then” johnny points the gun at yn but sees that it still had the safety on, realizing that yn was only using it to threaten him and not to cause him any harm, but nevertheless he takes it off and is about to pull the trigger.

"wait" yn yells and proceeds to laugh and spit out some blood "didn't you say before that i don't deserve to be killed by one of your bullets?" to which johnny replies "the gun is not mine"; “before you kill me i have one last wish" yn crawls to where johnny is and then kneels, resting his face on top of johnny's bulge, acting as if he were a cat, rubbing his face on the crotch, feeling the heat of johnny's huge cock "i know you get hard in these situations, you're a fucking pervert you know" yn murmurs, "give me some of this and then you can kill me, i would die happily" johnny was disgusted, not because of how yn was acting but because of what he said, although he wished it wasn't true, it is, yn he knew him very well. “shut the fuck up bitch, last time i checked you're the pervert, a sick fuck who gets off on beating and killing people” johnny pushes yn to the ground again, “it’s unbelievable how you're on the verge of being killed but you still manage to think about cocks drilling into your used loose hole, the fuck is wrong with you”.

yn stands up, he turns around to leave but instead he throws himself at johnny and fight to take the gun from him, during the fight the gun falls a few centimeters away from them, yn tried to grab it but johnny was way stronger than him, the taller throws him against a wall, then pushes him against it and pulls out a knife putting it in his throat. “i'm so sick of that goddamn grin on your fucking face i'll have to cut it off”. when johnny made eye contact with yn he saw his red face and hooded eyes “you're face is like the one of a bitch in heat… wait… what the fuh...” johnny looks down watching his bulge rubbing against yn's ass, he then looks towards yn's watching how he was hard already, johnny laughs “that look on your face… i'm starting to think this is why you always want to fight with me.. because i'm the only one who knows how to treat you the way you like it, sick bastard”.

"fine… if you want me to destroy that used hole that bad, i’ll do it, maybe this way you can leave me alone” johnny finally gives in, despite everything he said before, he knew deep down he also wanted to fuck yn, it’s not a secret for everyone that yn is hot but his freaky personality is what makes everyone go away from him, but guess he has finally found someone who matches it.

“go rougher” yn pleads in a soft voice.

the taller one pulls out some zip ties to tie yn's wrist behind his back, “this is your last chance kinky bitch, just say this was all a joke and run”. yn didn't say anything. “on your knees. now”.

johnny pull out his big dick “suck it like the good slut you are” yn hesitated “what? why are you acting shy now?” johnny grabs it and put it to rest on top of yn’s face “open up, it's not gonna suck itself”.

little moans escaped johnny's mouth, yn knows how to use his mouth after all, “i wonder how many dicks have you sucked to know how to do it properly.. fuck.. you're so disgusting” yn was about to stop to talk back but johnny didn't let him and started to mouthfuck him “your throat is such a good fleshlight” he forces yn to deepthroat him, causing a bulge to form there. johnny grunts, pulling the other's hair so he can go deeper. “ooh hahaha your little friend here seems to like this, you're like a pain slut” johnny uses his foot to massage yn's bulge ���do you jerk off after every fight we had?” johnny mocks loving how he can say anything without yn talking back at him, “this is a good use for your mouth” he murmurs.

sloppy wet noises coming from yn's mouth filled the dark alley. “look at you gagging on my cock, who would've thought that my neat would be enough to have you under my power”. yn just nods, all he wanted was finally becoming real, the johnny fucking suh is emptying his balls down his throat, something that might be considered a privilege knowing that johnny was known to be someone who doesn't have sex a lot and with anyone that crosses his path, despite having a lot of people lined behind him.

johnny pulls out and came on yn's face, grunting obscenities, “this is so humiliating for you, the cocky bastard yn covered in cum like a useless alley whore” he says in between pants, “maybe if i leave you here someone would find you and have some fun too, bet you would like that”.

“shut your ass up and fu-” a slap interrupts yn, “alley whores don't demand shit, they just accept what they're given, you deserve a punishment”.

johnny uses his knife to make a small cut on yn's cheek “it fucking hurts” yn whimpers. “that's the point dumb bitch, this way you would be reminded who owns you everytime you see yourself in the mirror”. yn was impressed to say the less, he knew johnny was freaky but not that freaky.

a wet spot formed in yn's black pants he tried to hide it but johnny noticed it, “did you just came just for me face fucking you? you're pathetic”...

“get up, i'm not done with you”; “i can't i feel weak, asshole” yn replies, “you're such a loser” johnny blurted out.

johnny pushed yn against the wall again, unzip his pants under and pulled it out along with his underwear, then scooped all the cum in his face to use it as lube, he smeared it in his dick and yn's hole, fingering it a little before putting all his dick inside “i'm gonna fuck you so hard you're not gonna be able to sit for the next week”. he put the tip first and then rammed himself inside, all at once, drawing a loud moan out of yn's mouth. “... fucking tight” johnny keeps pounding, his left hand leaving marks on yn's hip while the other was on his neck choking him. yn was starting to being loud, he was not being able to bear with johnny's powerful thrusts “shut up or i'll slam your head against the wall”; “n-no… no” yn manage to say, “what was that? i thought you were a tough guy ynnie?” the top once again mocks him. the feeling was so unbearable for yn that tears formed in his eyes and started to roll down his face, seeing this makes johnny so horny that he licked them from the other's face, then cupped the bottom's head with his right hand and turn him so they can make eye contact “you're being such a good sex toy, you're not that useless after all” then he kissed him.

right when johnny kissed him yn came hands free, “every time you touch yourself i want you to remember how i fucked you in an alley next to a dumpster like the piece of shit you are” johnny pounds faster “remember who beat you and broke you, now you would think twice after picking a fucking fight with me, you hear me?” after this johnny came inside, his moans were like the ones of a beast, damn he hasn't emptied his balls inside someone for ages. he pulled out and yn just slid down the wall, too weak to stand up.

“you look fucked up and disgusting, the freaky, tough guy ynnie just got obliterated by some cock" he laughs "… imagine if everyone knows about this… stay away from me and keep my name out of your filthy mouth” johnny got ready to go and leave yn there but he saw his face, that was still bleeding for the cut with some traces of seeat and cum, he looked so vulnerable a part he has never seen on him but he goes anyway.

yn was lost, he just got what he wanted but he was too tired to even celebrate it so he just smiled weakly and then fell asleep…

yn woke up in an unfamiliar room, it was a hotel room he got up and went to the bathroom, in the mirror there he saw he was already clean and the cut on his cheek was bandaged already he also took time to appreciate johnny’s marks scattered all over his body, smiling like a psycho when touching every single one of them. but yn doesn't remember how he ended up in a hotel room until he sees a card on the nightstand near the bed that reads *you owe me the money i wasted paying for your hotel room, bitch* it was from johnny. yn saves the card in his pocket murmuring a little “asshole” while leaving the room.

[cutely-inserts-my-opinion]

awlright i'll admit while I don't hate any of the characters, sometimes I see a take I disagree with soooo much that I end up disliking the character a little more as an effect lololol

Like it's really happened with some lunar and masm sun 'hot takes' because of the stuff going on with them.

Like seeing people say lunar did nothing wrong and that everyones being cruel to him for no reason or that they're doing bad for not helping him even tho he physically harmed someone. Like yeah he has bad mental health but imo i don't think that excuses harming another person to the point where they could be in pain for the rest of their life. i think the family is perfectly justified in making sure he's not around the children when he cannot handle his emotions enough to prevent himself from harming them.

same with masm sun. like yes he was treated terribly by foxy and bonnie but that does not give him the right to kill them? like even the channel runners seem to realize how close that episode was to like shooter stereotypes with the warning they put down. and I see people saying masm moon is like bad and evil for locking sun up? guys he just killed two people and threatened to kill more? he shot at moon and pointed a loaded gun at roxanne? his mental heath does not excuse that chat. I think moon was perfectly reasonable to make sure sun doesn't get access to other harmful tools by keeping him away for the time being, even with his crush.

again again all fiction its not real don't even worry about it do whatever you want forever, its just the 'this character is good and the victim and can do no wrong' style thing that personally makes me ick a little lmao

I READ THIS ALLOWED TO MY HUSBAND TO HELP ME READ IT CAUSE I STRUGGLE TO READ LONG THINGS

AND ENEUDNDUBDJF I COULDNT AGREE MORE???

Like literally there isn't one point here I don't agree with. Me and my husband both agree so hard dude

The same thing happened with old moon and monty for me??? Like I used to like their awfulness but I'm so tired of people excusing them that I can't stand them anymore, yknow???