#In the meantime have this I hope you like it

[helaintoloki]

Lowkey feel like if reader got bucky a fake flower (without bucky knowing it was fake) he would water it and reader would laugh their ass off whilst finding out about that

a/n: I love silly prompts like this so thank you for sending it in! hope you enjoy :)

warnings/notes: none!

summary: a sweet gesture leads to a moment of embarrassment for your husband

Bucky sinks into his chair with a long sigh- it’s been an exhausting day, and it’s only noon. He’d severely underestimated how grueling a congressman’s job could be, and he was starting to wonder if he’d made the wrong career choice.

Tiredly running a hand down his face, the former soldier leans back in his seat and lets his gaze fall upon the photo frame resting on the corner of his desk. The sight of your smile immediately alleviates some of the tension from his body, and Bucky is grateful for the fact that your portrait can provide him some solace in your absence. His busy schedule doesn’t m allow for the two of you to spend as much time together as you once did, and he misses you when he’s away at work.

The only thing keeping him together at this point in time is the fact that you’ll be joining him for lunch during a rare break in his schedule. Bucky had moved heaven and earth to clear just enough time in his day for you, and now that the hour of your arrival was inching closer and closer he found himself antsy to have you in his arms once more.

You both agreed on the fact that you wanted your time spent together to be a private affair away from prying reporters and journalists, so you offered to pick up the food on your way there. In the meantime, Bucky busied himself with tidying up the mess of documents on his desk and fixing the disorganized state of his office.

A knock on the door prompts him to halt his ministrations, his heart leaping in his chest with excitement as he watches the door open with baited breath. However, it isn’t you that stands on the other side, and he finds himself deflating with disappointment.

“Don’t be so excited to see me,” Sam quips sarcastically while shutting the door behind him. Despite his initial annoyance, Bucky manages to let out a chuckle at his friend’s comment.

“I thought it was y/n,” he admits with a shake of his head before making his way across the room to greet Sam with a hug. “We’re supposed to have lunch. What are you doing here?”

“I was in the area and figured I’d stop by. How are you holding up?”

“As best as I can given the circumstances,” Bucky admits with a meager huff. “This whole thing is more overwhelming than I ever could have imagined. If not for my endlessly loving and supportive wife I think I’d go insane.”

“You’ll get used to it,” Sam assures him with a hearty clap to his shoulder. “After all, you’ve gotten this far.”

Bucky flashes his friend a faint smile before resuming his earlier work of tidying up the office. Sam simply watches on in silence at first, though his interest is piqued when the congressman picks up a small watering can and begins to tend to the pot of sunflowers resting by the window.

“Didn’t take you for a gardener,” he points out with a raised brow. Bucky falters momentarily in response, features becoming sheepish as he clears his throat and sets the can down.

“I’m not, but they were a gift from y/n. She said they’d brighten up the place. Least I can do is water them.”

“She’s got you all soft,” Sam says with a smirk while walking over to the window to admire the plant. “You’re not as moody now that you’re a husband.”

“What can I say? I love my wife,” Bucky expresses fondly at the mention of you. It was true what Sam said; you’d changed him for the better, and he’d forever be grateful for the fact you’d said yes to him when he’d gotten down on one knee all those years ago.

Too busy reminiscing on your relationship, Bucky fails to notice the way Sam curiously inspects the petals of the plant. The Captain’s brows furrow with his doubtful expression as he scrutinizes the texture of the flower, and just as he makes a realization that will most definitely embarrass his friend the door swings open once more.

“Oh, hi, Sam!” You greet cheerfully despite the multiple bags of takeout you juggle in your hands. Shutting the door behind you with your foot, you set the food down before happily throwing your arms around him for a hug. “I didn’t know you’d be here. I guess it’s a good thing I over ordered. You hungry?”

“I’m just stopping by,” he informs you with a knowing grin before releasing you so that you can greet your husband.

Bucky practically melts at the feel of you against him when you let him pull you in close by the waist and press his lips against your own in a loving kiss. He keeps it short due to the fact that you have company, but his hands never leave your hips as he drinks in the sight of you and your natural beauty.

“You sure you can’t stay?” You prompt with a small frown, and though Sam hates to disappoint you he knows how Bucky cherishes his time alone with you.

“Another time,” he promises as he begins to make his exit. However, he hesitates slightly before pausing in the doorway with a mischievous smirk. “Before I forget, I wanted to compliment your taste in decor. Those flowers really do brighten up the place.”

“I knew they would,” you express with a proud smile while casting your gaze towards the pot.

“They seem to hold up really well,” Sam goads, discreetly chancing a glance over at Bucky. The super soldier in question raises a brow in time with the purse of his lips.

“Of course they do. I make sure they get enough sunlight and water every day,” he says plainly, almost offended at the thought of his ability to maintain the flowers coming as a surprise.

“Wait, what?” You retort in confusion, eyebrows creasing together with uncertainty as you turn to look at your husband. “You water them?”

“Every day,” Bucky restates with a proud smile that immediately vanishes at the sound of your laughter alongside Sam’s. The man is doubled over in the doorway, one hand clutching his stomach while the other holds onto the frame, and you aren’t fairing much better by the way you grip onto Bucky’s bicep to keep yourself from keeling over.

“What? What’s so funny?” Bucky retorts defensively only to be met with more laughter.

“Oh, James,” you coo breathlessly after finally composing yourself, gently wiping away the tears that had formed before pressing a loving kiss to his cheek. “Honey, those flowers are fake. You don’t need to water them.”

“Man, you’ve really outdone yourself this time,” Sam pokes fun despite the glare he receives in return. “Thanks for the laugh, big guy.”

Bucky deflates with embarrassment once Sam makes his exit, but he’s able to get over it pretty quickly when you pull him down by the tie for another kiss.

“I think it’s sweet,” you assure him while gently resting a hand on his cheek. “I’m glad to know you cared that much about them.”

“How could I not care when they came from my best girl?” He notes fondly while brushing back the hair from your face. You let out an appreciative hum and grant him one more kiss before finally pulling away to get settled for lunch.

After the fake flower fiasco, you go out of your way to get Bucky a real pot of flowers for him to water and enjoy, though Sam makes sure he’s never able to live the mistake down for the rest of his time in office.

[genericpuff]

LORE | REKINDLED EPISODE 70 - ZEUS' EXCUSES

Previous episode | Next episode releases soon! (estimated for May 3rd-May 10th)

It's FINALLY here! Thank you all so much for waiting so long. This episode took a lot of work to get out, but more than that, this episode persevered through a lot of IRL shit that's been weighing it down. There's still more shit to crawl through but I think we are, at least, through the worst of it now 🤞

All that said, if you haven't seen my post yet about Episode 71 and the upcoming mid-season hiatus, please go check it out! We'll definitely do our best to have Episode 71 out at a reasonable pace <3 And then after that we'll be taking an actual official break to rest, prepare the remainder of Season 1, and pull ourselves together after weathering the first half of 2025 ┬┴┬┴┤(･_├┬┴┬┴

And in the meantime, whether between now and the release of Episode 71 or during the course of the upcoming mid-season hiatus, please come join us in our official Discord server! It's honestly pretty big now ??? like damn there are 500 of y'all-

(and we're always open to more if you're not in there yet!)

There are roles available in the server for different pings, including update pings for Rekindled as well as pings for when I'm streaming! And of course we have a variety of different channels discussing both Rekindled as well as other Greek myth retellings and Greek mythology in general :'3 <3 Hope to see you in there!

[miyasmagnolias]

𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ꫂ ၴႅၴ ₊ ⊹

miya atsumu x f!reader

all you wanted was a roommate who enjoyed watching the bachelor just as much as you did. so when a disgruntled frat boy becomes your subtenant for the year, you decide to work with what you've got.

part one of the in close quarters series, a friends-to-lovers college AU featuring you, atsumu, and the ten months you spend living together senior year.

Your new roommate was moody.

He was a frat boy, you'd heard — not from any actual conversations you'd had with him — but from your friend who had internet stalked him for the sake of your personal safety.

He was also a setter on the men's volleyball team, a business major, and — as if things couldn't get any more interesting — a fraternal twin. The other, less hot-headed one had been by the apartment a couple of times to drop off some groceries and the occasional onigiri plate, all of which his brother had accepted with a slight growl before disappearing back into his room. In other words, he wasn't exactly your first choice of a subtenant.

You thought it was strange that a frat boy in his senior year of college had responded to the sublet post you'd shared on Facebook. Didn't fraternities have cushy, off-campus housing with three living rooms and enough booze to cause a forest fire? Or, more reasonably, didn't he have any friends he could room with in the meantime?

Despite your curiosity, it wasn't your business to know his reasons for moving into your quiet north campus apartment in the middle of August. Your old roommate had graduated the previous year, and you couldn’t exactly question her replacement when he was the only one willing to move in with you. So long as he wasn’t a smoker or a wanted felon, you could tolerate a bit of grumpiness here and there.

Still, it didn’t stop you from trying to be kind to him.

"Atsumu?" you asked, knocking on his doorframe.

It was rare that he left his door open; normally, he'd storm in here after volleyball practice and promptly shut the door. He wouldn't slam it, but he always used more force than necessary, as if doing so would rid himself of the anger you could so clearly see in the way he tensed his shoulders, flexed his jaw.

"Yeah," he said by way of greeting, setting his gym bag by the bedside table.

"I was just going to grab some groceries before my afternoon classes. Did you need me to get you anything?"

"Nah, thanks. Osamu dropped off some stuff o’er the weekend.”

"Okay," you nodded, grip tightening around your car keys as you debated whether or not to just turn around and walk out the front door.

No, you told yourself, your need to be a friendly roommate outweighing your hatred of awkward small talk. Just ask him. The worst he could say is no.

As if he could see the buffer wheel spinning in circles on your forehead, Atsumu asked, "Something' else ya wanna ask me?"

You snapped out of your trance and, before you could think too deeply about it, blurted out, "Yes! I was wondering if you wanted to watch The Bachelor with me tonight."

He blinked once. Twice. "The Bachelor?"

You nodded. "The new season starts tonight, and my previous roommate and I always hosted Bachelor Monday night watch parties. Most of the usual group graduated already, so it would just be us two. But I was hoping to keep up the tradition."

He unpacked his gym bag as you spoke, the skepticism on his face growing with each passing word that slipped from your mouth.

"Ain’t that the show where, like, one guy sleeps with a million different women?"

You pursed your lips to one side. "No, not exactly. He makes out with most of them, though."

"Ya see, now, why would I wanna watch that?"

"...because it's fun? And addictive?" Jesus, you sounded like the salesperson for Vicodin. "Plus, it's a lot more heartfelt than you think. These twenty-five women are willing to put their hearts on the line for this singular chance at love, and it's nice to see a few couples come out of it alive."

He shucked his sweaty gym shorts in the hamper by the door, his face the portrait of disinterest. "Doesn't really sound like my cuppa tea."

"To be fair, I don't think it's anybody's cup of tea when they start watching it. But it grows on you."

He drew his lips into a hard line. "Think I'll pass."

You nodded your head in reverent defeat. At least you'd tried.

"Fair. Well, I hope you don't mind me hogging the TV every Monday night until November, and you're free to join me whenever you want."

He nodded once, as if he'd heard you but was never seriously going to consider it. And that was that.

You drove to the grocery store on University Drive and picked up your meal prep for the week, adding to your cart an assortment of snacks for your solo watch party that night: jalapeño chips, white cheddar popcorn. A pack of blue raspberry sour straws — you'd seen Osamu include a pack in his grocery haul for Atsumu, so you figured you'd refill his stash while you were here. Your roommate might have been a grumpy old man trapped inside a twenty-two year-old body, but that didn't mean you couldn't care for him like you had your previous roommate. It was second nature for you to do so.

"Are you sure you don't want me over tonight?" Haruka asked during your advanced writing workshop later that afternoon. Your professor had split the class into pairs for peer-review twenty minutes ago, but you'd since abandoned each other's essays and were now only pretending to work. "I can skip my screenwriting seminar."

"Haru, no. I am not letting you sacrifice your perfect attendance just so you can watch trashy television with me."

"I'm assuming frat boy hasn't let up yet, either?"

"No,” you sighed, fiddling with the purple pen in your hands. "He's the human embodiment of a brick wall."

"I couldn't find anything else about him online, either," your friend admitted. "His socials are completely scrubbed after high school. It's like he went AWOL."

"Maybe he just values his privacy."

"Or maybe he has a secret past he doesn't want anyone to know about."

You considered all of his pent-up energy, the way he threw his bedroom door closed after a long day at volleyball practice. There was definitely a story there; you just weren't particularly keen on searching for it. You were intuitive enough to recognize a boundary when you saw one, and with Miya Atsumu, there were many.

"Maybe," you said, unwilling to divulge further. "But I'll be fine tonight. If anything, it'll be nice to just lounge in my sweatpants and gorge on chips without anyone there to judge me."

And you believed in that statement. Truly.

In fact, as you unlocked the door to your apartment a couple hours later, a people-free evening sounded like the best way to ease into the new semester. You may have been an English honors student about to graduate in ten months, but you would never let the stress of your workload interfere with Bachelor Mondays. The show was too good, too sacred for you to do that.

But as you settled into your couch and laid out the snacks you’d bought earlier that day across the coffee table, you couldn't help but wish you had someone to share them with.

Atsumu returned home from volleyball practice ten minutes into the season premiere, the slam of the front door outcompeting the gentle drone of the television as he walked inside and kicked off his shoes.

He jutted his chin out towards you in greeting.

"Hey." You sat up on the couch and readjusted your blanket. "How was practice?"

"Fine.” He shrugged half-heartedly, already en-route to his bedroom before spotting your assortment of snacks.

He paused, did a double-take. You followed his gaze to the unopened package of blue raspberry sour straws stacked neatly atop your books.

"Oh, yeah. Those are for you,” you told him.

“For me,” he reiterated, pointing to himself. You nodded. “I thought I told ya not to get me anythin.’”

You frowned. “Do you not want them?”

“Nah, it’s not that, I just…” Atsumu blinked, clearly malfunctioning. As if he couldn’t fathom why you were being so nice to him. “How d'ya know I liked 'em?"

"Because I live with you," you said matter-of-factly. "And I saw the wrapper when I took the trash out this morning — which, by the way, I created a chore chart for the two of us on the whiteboard over there."

Atsumu swiveled on his heel to face the whiteboard tacked just outside your kitchenette, the 4x6 makeshift chart decked out in washi tape, stickers, and hand-drawn bubble letters. You’d even ordered magnets to indicate when you’d completed each of your chores — bunnies for you, foxes for Atsumu.

He looked at your display like he didn't know exactly what to make of it. “Yer a real fan of stationary, aren’t ya?”

“I may or may not have spent my last paycheck on that whiteboard.”

He massaged the inner corners of his eyes. “Ya ain’t obligated to do all this song and dance for me, ya know. I ‘preciate it, but I can hold mah own.”

Shrugging your shoulders, you said, “I know you can. I just wanted to make you feel welcome, that's all.” You leaned over to pick up the pack of candy and waved it in his direction. “Here, take one.”

After several seconds of deliberation, your roommate finally accepted your offering, tore open the package, and fished out a sugar-coated sour straw bluer than a bottle of Windex. He tore the gummy candy with his teeth and chewed quietly, his shoulders finally relaxing.

You peered up at him from your spot on the couch, scared to make any sudden movements in fear he might scurry off to his room again. After a moment, you asked, "Are they good?"

He nodded, licking the excess sugar off of his fingers. "They are. Thank ya."

You brought the bowl of popcorn into your lap and smiled softly. "You're welcome."

Neither of you said anything for a few minutes as you snacked, the sounds of the television humming between you in a novel sense of harmony. Astumu's attention gradually shifted to the screen, where a beautiful young woman now exited her limousine to meet the man whose heart she would spend weeks vying for.

Behind a mouthful of candy, Atsumu asked, "This the horny dating show ya were talkin' 'bout earlier?"

You snorted. "That's the one."

The bachelor twirled the young woman around in a slow, salacious circle, his eyes sparkling with intrigue as she lifted her face to the sky and laughed.

"He clearly only did that so he could get a good look at her ass," Atsumu scoffed in disbelief.

"Yeah, but look at her. She's practically eating it up," you retorted, shoveling a handful of popcorn into your mouth. "Those are bedroom eyes right there."

Your roommate absentmindedly perched himself on the opposite arm of the couch. "How much ya think he's gettin' paid to do this?"

"Why? You thinking of auditioning?"

"Maybe," he murmured, staring at the flirtatious exchange like one might a wild animal exhibit. You considered Atsumu for a moment —with his clean-cut fade, dark eyebrows, and bleach-blonde hair — and hummed in approval.

"I can see that."

"Can ya? Think I have a face for TV?"

"Maybe," you drawled. "If you wiped the scowl off your face every once in a while."

Almost instinctively, the corners of his lips ticked upwards into a soft flicker of a smile, revealing the dimple on his left cheek. It only lasted about a second, but you caught it like a firefly in a jar.

"So what's happenin' now?" he asked impatiently.

"So only five of the twenty-five women have pulled up so far to Bachelor Mansion, and they can do anything they want to give a good first impression," you explained. "Some just flirt, like the one you just saw. But others have brought wedding cakes, neon signs. The whole nine yards." "Sounds excessive." "Well, at the end of the night, the guy gives a first impression rose to the girl he thinks stood out the most, and she's immediately saved from that evening's elimination."

"They eliminate people on day one?" he asked. You nodded, and Atsumu shook his head. "Damn. That's brutal."

For the next hour and a half, your roommate's eyes never left the television screen, and it was the most you'd ever heard him talk since he'd moved in three weeks ago. He had something snarky to say about everything — the budding drama between the contestants, the tragic backstory of the bachelor himself. You ended up laughing at his out-of-pocket commentary, oftentimes finding his reactions to the show more entertaining than the show itself.

Once the episode was over, Atsumu leaned against the backrest of the couch, intertwining his fingers behind his neck. He exhaled a long, reflective breath.

"Damn."

"I know."

"I can't believe the doctor was eliminated."

"The good contestants often are."

"I mean, her story was so compellin'," he urged, turning to face you from the other end of the couch. "She wanted to prioritize love over her career, have a family before her ol' granny passes away. How could he not give her a chance?"

"Maybe he just didn't feel that spark," you reconciled. Atsumu scoffed in reply.

"Sparks means jack shit if she ain't a good person." He grabbed a piece of popcorn from the bowl sitting between you and chewed thoughtfully. "If I were on this show, I'd make sure I chose the right people."

You nodded. "That's very noble of you, Atsumu."

He cut you a glare. "Are ya teasin' me?"

"No,” you deadpanned, although you didn't sound convincing. "I just think it's funny how you think twenty-five women would line up to marry you in the first place."

He folded his arms across his chest and frowned. "Yeah, right. I'd be a catch on a show like this."

"Really? With all your grunting around and leaving your smelly gym socks by the front door?"

"Hey, that was one time, and I apologized to ya already." He quieted for a moment before adding, "Just haven't been my usual self lately. Been goin' through some personal stuff."

You softened at his casual confession, Haruka's words from earlier that day immediately coming to mind. Maybe he has a secret past he doesn't want anyone to know about.

You didn't need to know what exactly he was going through. But you appreciated the acknowledgment that it was there, that dark, stormy cloud that seemed to follow him around wherever he went. It worried you, even though you'd only met three weeks ago. You wished you could do something to make it better.

But instead of admitting that and potentially scaring him away, you instead resorted to your usual sarcasm.

"Well, I'm sure your charisma is buried somewhere beneath all your steely stares."

Your roommate's brow knit together. "I ain't got steely stares."

"Don't worry. Some women like that." You paused. "Maybe not twenty-five of them, but some."

Despite himself, Atsumu huffed out a laugh, his smile making its second appearance of the evening. "Yer real funny, ya know that?"

"Says the guy who didn't think reality TV was his cup of tea."

"Oh, shaddup," he drawled. You grabbed a sour straw from the near-empty package and held it out to him in a dramatic gesture.

"Atsumu, will you accept this first impression sour straw?"

He swiped the candy away from you and ripped it in half with his teeth. "Will ya quit teasin' me?"

"Why?" you argued. "You having second thoughts about living with me for the next ten months?"

"No," he said a little too confidently, rolling the straw between his thumb and forefinger. "No, I just don't think ya know who yer messin' with."

You were taken aback by the sudden smugness in his voice, the way his eyes slid over to yours with the kind of charm that made your thoughts go hazy. For the first time in weeks, you finally got a glimpse of what Miya Atsumu was actually like.

Just haven't been my usual self lately, he'd told you. You considered the gravity of those words. The person they’d alluded to.

Perhaps your new roommate would prove to be more interesting than you'd initially thought.

a/n: thank you for reading the first part of my new lil' series, in close quarters!

i intend to write each installment as a one-shot so you can enjoy them independently of one another. however, each part will contribute to the greater arc of the story — so if you're here for the long run, welcome! i'm very grateful to have you here. ♡

@miyasmagnolias 2025

[velvetvexations]

Right, so when one of your transandro comrades go on a mask-off tirade about how trans women are all objects, or rapists, or any number of awful shit it's "everyone makes mistakes uwu!"

But when a trans woman says something shitty suddenly your trite little "justice means forgiveness! everyone is human!" speech goes out the window and you loose your sycophants to run them off the site

I've said repeatedly that if even Rin Tezuka or Thicced Witch or any of the other really violently unhinged TRFs apologized for literally anything and recognized their behavior was terrible I'd defend them and their right to be forgiven and forgotten with my life, just the same as I would anyone else who sincerely apologized.

But none of them have ever done anything even close to that. Your whole premise is inherently flawed because you're acting like doing something bad is directly comparable to doing something bad and actually apologizing for it.

And, again, she told two different trans women to kill themselves. Four times. In like two hours. And she repeatedly doubled down on it. Then she called another trans woman a "sissy faggot." Acting like it's a targeted harassment campaign when mods react to that is insane. I'm not telling anyone to report her, mod action is literally just a thing that will happen because it's publicly telling people to kill themselves. This bizarre thing where you insist trans women should be free of all consequences because we're such poor little meow meows is deeply bizarre to me.

And she KNOWS that. Not only does she know that, because you could argue it's still not something worth being termed over, but you admit it's a really bad thing - so why is her doing a really bad thing, knowing it'll invite mod action, my fucking fault?

And I cannot fucking imagine any of you would feel this way if I had done anything like that. Yall are so unserious.

But for what it's worth even in this case yes, I would totally accept an extremely mild apology for advocating slur usage against another minority and telling multiple trans women to kill themselves, and if she remade, which she will, I would not do anything to ever connect her with the things she said previously or put her in the line of sight of anyone who might still have held a grudge.

Let me know when she, you know, apologizes, but I'm not holding out hope for it happening before the heat death of the universe. In the meantime I'm sure she will come back to a site she characterizes as being so horrifically transmisogynistic for the five millionth time, whining about how unfair it was.

[leonalovesalot]

You make me perfect II

Ex!ArtDonaldson x Reader

wc: 3.6k

.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._

“Art?”

Art froze all over. He worried for a second that maybe even his heart had stopped beating. He brought his hand up to his chest to feel his pulse. Oh good, still pumping. But bad because maybe he had began having auditory hallucinations. It was about time, he thought.

“Art? Are you there?”, there it was again. The voice. He laughed internally. God, he was actually starting to hear your voice. His hallucination of your voice was so accurate, it was impressive. It was music to his ears. He felt his eyes starting to close hoping this imaginary you would say something else.

“Art? Please? I- I need your help,” you said, your voice laced in desperation. You were on the verge of tears again.

He furrowed his brows. You sounded distressed. This bothered him. He finally opened his mouth to speak and his voice came out sounding hoarse.

“Y/N, are you real?” Art sounded like he was high. But he really wanted the confirmation.

You paused from your trembling and confusion etched your face.

“What- I,” you didn’t understand what he was saying. You sighed and added, “yes Art, I’m real.”

He swallowed. He got the confirmation he so badly needed but he remained frozen. Why were you calling him? You needed help? Why did it sound like you’d been crying? Did someone hurt you? Did you want him back?

“Art? Are you still there?” Oh, your sweet voice pulled him right out of his busy mind.

“Yeah- yes,” he cleared his throat and was finally back in his living room. With you on the phone. He dreamt of this moment for months. He continued on, “are you okay?” He questioned.

“I- I’m sorry for calling you so late but I- I didn’t really have a choice”, your words cut off and he heard sniffles on the other end of the phone.

Art felt his already broken heart shattering further.

“It’s okay, baby. I was up anyway, tell me what’s wrong,” he said softly. He wanted to be there with you- wherever you were- running his hand through your hair and kissing your temple.

“I was driving home,” you choke on your tears which caused him physical pain, “and then my car jerked and I- I freaked out,” you took a deep breath, “and so I pulled over and got out and- and I had a flat tire.”

“Fuck, that must have been so scary,” he said, in a concerned tone. Art didn’t realize when but he had already grabbed his car keys and his wallet. He was ready to rescue you, you just had to say the word.

The sniffles have transitioned to you taking deep breaths.

“Do you think you could come get me? I- I don’t know who else to-”

“Where are you,” he said sternly as he walked out of his house and to his garage.

A slight pause occurred and Art furrowed his brows. He heard sounds of slight shuffling.

“Sorry, I had to go to the window and look outside,” you said a little out of breath.

Art smiled softly. He unlocks his jeep and gets in the drivers seat ready to go.

“I-I’m at this gas station o-on the route home from the library,” you explained poorly.

“Gonna need a little more than that,” he chuckles softly.

He heard you hum in thought and drummed on the steering wheel with his free hand in the meantime. He missed this. He missed you. Oh god, he missed you so much it hurt.

“Do you remember that café that,” you swallow, “we really wanted to try and then, when we finally went that day, there was a notice saying they shut down?” There was a playful tone to your voice, he thought. He imagined you standing in the gas station, twisting the telephone cord around your finger and smiling.

He smiles at the fond memory. You two drove over in excitement because you had driven past that cafe many times on the way to his place. You’d turn and say, “we should go there one day,” and he’d nod. The day you two finally showed up, there was a big red sign on the door saying they weren’t operating anymore. You were disappointed and he was disappointed that you were disappointed.

“I’ll be there in ten. Stay put.” Art turns the key in the ignition.

“Okay, bye.”

“Bye.”

.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._..

You hang up the phone and notice how sweaty your palms were. Well, no turning back now.

You nod a thank you to the man behind the counter and walk out of the gas station. The rain had slowed down and it was mostly mist now. You took a deep breath and stared at the gas pumps, and your car across the road, and then the ground.

You were nervous. You hadn’t seen Art in what? Two months. Shit, that was a long time. You didn’t know how you’d react when he appeared in front of you. You were always weak around him. He was so soft, so kind- one look from him made you feel safe and warm.

Would you cry? Would you smile as if no time had passed? Would you hug him? What if you wanted to kiss him?

What if he’s angry? You were the one that broke things off for reasons he didn’t seem to understand at the time.

You waited with your anxiety playing all the worst case scenarios in your mind.

.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._..

You assumed ten minutes had passed because you heard a car driving towards you. You looked up and sure enough: Art’s black jeep.

You always loved that jeep. The back seats were quite spacious.

Suddenly, everything was in slow motion.

Art swerved into the lot and got out of the car without taking his keys out of the ignition. He didn’t care. He didn’t bother shutting the door either as all he thought of was you. And now you were finally there.

Your eyes teared up slightly and you walked towards him while he ran to you.

You both immediately wrapped your arms around each other. Yours were tight around his torso. His were around your shoulders nuzzling your head into his chest. His hand went to hold the back of your head like you were the most delicate thing.

You two stood there embracing each other in the misty night. You were still tearing up slightly and after a moment noticed he was sniffling.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t have anyone else to call,” you say, your voice coming out muffled.

“You don’t need to apologize. Next time, you can call me first,” he sniffles, “even if I’m in the middle of a match, I’ll come.”

You giggle softly. Your first expression of amusement in what felt like days.

Art smiled. Music to his ears.

You pull away first. He would’ve held you forever if you let him. When you pulled away he was visibly upset. But you look down so you don’t have to see him that way.

Art didn’t step away at all. Instead he brought his hand up to your cheek to wipe away the tears that escaped while you hugged him. His touch was gentle, like he didn’t want you to notice because he thought if you did, you’d push him away.

You didn’t swat his hand away. As wrong as it was, you needed this. You needed to feel good.

Arts brows furrow as he finally takes a look at the whole you. His eyes flicker up and down and notice you were soaked. He takes off his fleece that you had borrowed once before. He reaches down and tugs on your wet coat signalling you to take it off.

Your face flushed slightly and you shrug off your coat and shiver. The shivering comes to a halt when he places his warm fleece around you. It smelled like him. You felt dizzy by the amount of memories that flooded your mind just from that simple scent.

“Why don’t you go sit in the car and I’ll call triple A, okay?” He says softly with his hands on your shoulders, rubbing to warm you up.

You wanted to refuse. You didn’t like being helped because it made you feel like a burden. But tonight you’d had enough. You wanted him to help you. You wanted him to take care of it.

You nod and walk to his car. You shut the driver's seat door and walk around to the passenger seat and get in. His car was warm and clean. You were scared at how easily you fell back into all this. You thought there’d be a buffer in your unprecedented reunion, but it felt like no time had passed. Maybe this was a good thing.

You watched Art on the phone outside. He talked calmly and would look up to you every few seconds to check on you. He’d smile softly and you’d smile and mouth a thank you. He’d wave it off.

You took this time to take in his appearance. Maybe it was because it had been a while since you’d seen him but he’d gotten more muscular. If that was even possible. And that haircut. You always loved his blonde curls because they were fun to ruffle up and tease him in doing so. But this haircut made him look his age. It reminded you that he was older.

Art walks back and gets into the car and he notices your eyes follow him the whole way. He smirks to himself.

“They’ll be here in half an hour. I gave them your address and they said they’d tow it to that mechanic shop a block away from there. It’ll be fixed up by tomorrow afternoon,” he turns the heat up and wipers on.

You nod, listening to his words carefully.

“Thank you,” you say softly.

He begins to pull out of the lot and you settle into your seat comfortably. You were enjoying yourself, even though a voice in your head was screaming at you that this was a bad idea.

You both drove in silence soaking in each other’s company. You rested your eyes and art snuck glances at you the whole drive. Your eyes open when you hear a door close. You blink away the blurry vision and see Art coming around to open your door.

He drove you to his house.

Panic creeps in because you thought he’d drive you home. But you were here. At his house. So late. Just you and him. You turned to face him when he opened the door.

“Home sweet-”

“Why’d you bring me here?” Your peaceful demeanour washed away leaving you confused and slightly frustrated.

Art frowns, “what do you mean?”

Your lips part in disbelief, “I thought you were taking me home, Art.”

His stomach dropped. He was ashamed to admit but he was hoping you wouldn’t notice. You had a hectic night and he thought you’d be easily swayed.

He sighs and nods his head towards his house, “come on, Y/N.”

You scoffed and your eyes widened slightly, “don’t ‘come on, Y/N’ me.”

He makes a bold move and reaches over you to unbuckle your seatbelt. You two were face to face the whole time and he swore he saw your eyes look down at his lips. He leans back out of the car and brings his hand to your forearm and pulls you out of the car. It was a risky move. But he wasn’t going to throw away a chance to be with you because he was too much of a pussy to initiate things.

You looked confused. Confused as to why your body was just willingly going with him. Your muscle memory took over and you even closed the car door behind yourself.

“A-art,” you said, trying to be stern but your voice faltered which caused you to cringe.

He heard you call his name. It was a weak protest. So he ignored it.

He pulled you along to the front door and fished out his keys from his pocket, not looking at you.

You tried to speak up again but no words came out.

You wanted this.

The door unlocks and you both walk inside. He lets go of your arm and locks the door behind him. You stay still in the doorway and let your eyes wander to take in his home. Not much had changed except for the fact that the pictures of the two of you were missing from the fireplace mantle. That stung, but you did the same at your place so you couldn’t be hypocritical.

You were pulled away from your thoughts when you looked down and saw Art crouched down in front of you untying your shoelaces. You heard your heartbeat in your ears. Why did he have to be so sweet? Why was he doing this to me?

He taps your ankle to lift your foot, which you do reflexively and he slides your shoe off. Then he unties the next. Neither of you uttered a word. It seemed like there was so much to say but you wanted him to speak first and he wanted you to.

You lift your foot, before he taps your ankle this time, and he smiles to himself at your compliance. You wanted the same, didn't you? He thought.

He stood up straight, his tall frame towering over you. In the dim lighting, you couldn't see his face. You hoped he couldn't see yours because you could feel how hot it was. Hot meaning red. You didn't want him to know he was affecting you like this.

He kicks off his shoes and walks further into his house, breaking the intense eye contact. A wave of confusion engulfs you and you shift to to follow him with your eyes.

Art walks in hoping you'd follow after him. He didn't hear any feet walking along the floor but he didn't let it get to him. He was patient, and he knew you would give in eventually.

He turns on the lamp in his living room, adjusts a photo frame on the wall, and walks into the kitchen. You could still see him due to his open floor plan. He walked over to his fridge and grabbed a beer bottle along with two glasses from the cabinets. He was moving so casually, you wondered if you were the only nervous one.

Nervous was an understatement, actually.

He walked back into the living room and placed everything down on the coffee table. He sat on the edge of the sectional sofa.

"Are you gonna come sit down or do I have to beg?" Art says as he pours the beer into the glasses. He wasn't kidding, he would be on his knees in an instant if you nodded. He wasn't afraid of seeming pathetic. You were far more precious than his pride.

You swallow, "Art, I want to go home," you failed at sounding stern again.

For a second, he feels bad. Maybe he was wrong, maybe you didn't want this. Maybe he read you wrong. He pushes the doubt away and looks up finally.

"Oh, I think we're past that Y/N." He says softly but with the corner of his mouth curling up, you assumed his head was buzzing with racy thoughts. It was too soon to tell how you felt about it.

You stayed still like your feet were stuck to the floor. You contemplated whether you should sit down and entertain whatever he was thinking. You wanted to. You couldn't deny it, you really wanted to.

You were tired of feeling like you barely existed. You hadn't felt alive in months and you were craving a change. You knew he'd give it to you. But you also knew this was wrong. You two broke up for a reason. You broke things off for a reason. You couldn't backtrack now.

But you were so tired. You were sick of these stupid rules and restrictions you placed on yourself when it came to Art. The fate of your relationship was only on you two. No one else. So why are you letting these thoughts get to you when you're the one that has full control of your actions? You can do whatever you want.

To Art's pleasure, you finally walked toward him. He was slightly disappointed when you sat on the armchair across from him when his lap was the perfect seat. But he didn't say anything. He knew you couldn't disregard your pride like he could.

He slides the glass towards you on the coffee table and leans back on the couch taking a swig. He studied you. Everything from your disheveled hair (which he thought was sexy) to the way your hands busied themselves with picking at the sides of your fingertips. You were nervous, Art deduced.

"What's on your mind?" He asks.

Your eyes finally meet his and tilts his head and he smirks softly. The drink was making him more confident by the minute.

"Lots of questions," you say honestly.

He snickers, "yeah? Well, it's your lucky day because I have answers."

You were slightly irritated at his smug attitude. Why wouldn't he be?You were on his turf now. He was in control here. That would've frightened you with anybody else but you'd still trust him with your life, so you didn't really mind. Let him have his fun.

"Why didn't you just drive me home?" You asked, your voice didn't waver once and you were proud. You were getting used to him again.

He waits a moment and then responds, "do you want the honest answer or a fib?"

Your brows furrow and you adjust in your chair. You sign, "let's hear both."

His eyes widen in amusement and he puts his glass down on the table after taking another gulp. A few drops were rolling down his chin and you imagined how he'd react if you walked over and licked them off.

"Alright. You guess which is which," He drums his fingers on the table for a second, "The first is that I didn't want you to be on your own because you seemed really shaken up"

You scoff and roll your eyes.

God, he fucking missed you.

"The second is that I wanted to have you all to myself for the night," He averts his gaze from you when he says this. I guess he wasn't all that confident after all. He continues when you say nothing, "show you what you're missing."

You swallow.

"Prove to you that the breakup was the dumbest shit you pulled," Art said through clenched teeth.

He looks back up at you, "So?"

"W-what?" You mumble. He was angry and hurt. The break up affected you terribly but you never thought about how Art must have been dealing.

"Which is which?" He raises his brow.

You shake your head and look down at your lap, "I had to do it."

He lets out a short laugh and rolls his eyes, "yeah, whatever helps you sleep at night."

This made you angry and you snapped your head up to look at him, "Excuse me?"

"It's true!" He stands up and leans down to take the glass of beer he poured for you and drinks it. He runs his tongue over his lips, "we were perfect, Y/N. And you just had to end things because you hate yourself."

Your eyes fill with tears and you angrily blink them away. Fine, two can play that game. You stand up to show him that the mere fact that he was bigger than you, didn't intimidate you in the slightest.

"I hate myself? I hate myself? At least I'm not some leech that just sucks the life out of a person. You fused yourself to me because I gave you the reassurance you so badly need to function. I mean- fuck you can't even win a match unless I'm there. Without me, you're nothing," you had hot tears streaming down your face that you barely paid attention to. You stood there catching your breath.

His eyes were red and glassy. Your words sobered him right up. Harsh truths do that.

"I know," He says. His eyes didn't leave you once. He hated being vulnerable but you were an exception.

Your eyes widened slightly, you clearly weren't expecting that. You wanted him to fight back. You wanted him to hurt you so your beliefs about the breakup being necessary would be affirmed. But he caved. The last thing he wanted was to hurt you and he was already afraid that he'd gone too far with the 'you hate yourself' comment. You didn't deserve it.

"That's why," his voice cracks, "you need to come back to me."

You regretted your words right away. His desperation made you tear up again.

Art slowly walks towards you. You held your hand out in front of you so he wouldn't get too close. He winced softly but stopped a few inches away. He bent down and got on his knees showing no hesitation. Your eyes widened and you felt your core clench around nothing. He slides his hands up from your ankles to your thighs and stops at your hips. He holds you gently, not wanting to anger you.

He looks up through his eyebrows and says after clearing his throat, "I'll do anything. If you want me to change, I'll change. I can become someone else. I can be better," he gulps and waits for what you'll say next.

Your body was on fire.

"Beg."

.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._

The next part will OBVIOUSLY be smut but I've never written smut before and a girl is nervous!!

I hope you enjoyed!

[xtarmanderx]

So months ago, I posted a snippet of a shower smut Tevan fic that people really seemed to enjoy. Well. I finally finished that fic today! (This is most likely the same snippet that I shared before, although there have been minor tweaks to it!)

let's explore this connection and see where it leads {promise me, promise me, you won't just leave}

-

Buck slides his fingers along Tommy’s arm that’s wrapped around his chest, gently tugging on it. As expected, Tommy loosens his hold and presses his mouth to Buck’s ear. “Want me to stop?” He murmurs, already shifting his hips back. The hand on Buck’s hip adjusts to rest on his stomach, large fingers splayed over his abdomen, and Buck shakes his head.

“No. Just…” Here he pauses and swipes his tongue over his upper lip. He flattens his palm over Tommy’s arm and guides it higher on his chest, resting just above his collarbone where it’s snug on his throat. “Here.”

“What do you want me to do, baby?” Tommy purrs, tongue tracing the shell of Buck’s ear, and he has to stroke himself twice to take some of the edge off.

“When I start to come, choke me.” He breathes out. Tommy’s answering groans punches through him and he laughs, a little breathless and high on the adrenaline rushing through him.

“Evan.” His voice is wrecked and Buck smirks, confidence returning tenfold as he leans back into his partner.

“I trust you,” he says. Tommy’s fingers grip his jaw and then they’re kissing again, hot and desperate slides of their lips together as Tommy’s cock slips between his cheeks once more. He grinds himself against Buck’s ass and Buck knows if either of them were patient or ready for it, he’d be begging Tommy to give it to him. He’s not ready for that yet, but he hopes it won’t be long. In the meantime, he can order himself a few toys and start to learn a thing or two about himself.

[reagent-leon]

It’s my 1-year anniversary on Tumblr 🥳 I can’t believe The Outlast Trials, and more specifically Coyle, have had me in a chokehold for an entire year.

When I first made this page, it was supposed to be a character RP blog for my Prime Asset OC, Luanne. But things took a turn. Luanne’s living a much cushier life these days, and I’ve fully dedicated myself to the field of Coyleology. One whole year later and I still haven’t dissected his comic in its entirety 😫 Oh well. I’m getting there.

In the meantime, I hope you’ve all enjoyed my posts about Leland and the world of the Trials. Hopefully Red Barrels will bless us with some fresh Coyle content soon (RB please we are starving).

Thank you to all my followers, mutuals, and anyone who’s liked or reblogged my stuff. I’m not the most active person online, but I’m always lurking, always ready to yap about Coyle. I’m so grateful for the friends I’ve made in this community 🥰

Here’s to another year 💫

[writeforfandoms]

Mirror Mirror 7

Find the series masterlist

Things don't go according to Cortana's plan. You do your best.

Warnings: Swearing, threats of violence, things are happening off screen, trust me it's not the same as canon.

Word count: 1.7k

You waited until the feed ended, the image of John with his hand held out to Cortana still on the screen. Then you dropped the pad to the side and sighed. 

“Cortana,” you tried again. “I know you can hear me. You've got ears everywhere.” 

She didn't appear. You weren't surprised, not really. She was stubborn, just like John. 

You were going to be stubborn too, this time. 

“Come on, really? Phenomenal cosmic power, and you can't even spare a little for a chat?” You crossed your legs on the bed, gaze focused on the spot where she had appeared before. 

Cortana appeared in the same place, arms already crossed over her chest. “What do you want?” 

“Well, to thank you for the food, to start.” You tapped your tray meaningfully. You had to tread carefully here. 

She relaxed a little. “I'm not a monster,” she scoffed, though she looked at you a little differently now. 

“I never thought you were,” you answered honestly, making sure to keep your shoulders loose. “Honestly, I never thought the future would be like this.” 

“The future?” That caught her interest, as you had been sure it would. “What do you mean?”

“I was reading through these logs you left me, and I saw the date on the more recent ones.” Your smile felt a little stiff, a little awkward, but you figured that could be forgiven. “I'm over 500 years in the future. A few days ago, I clocked out of work and went to go home, back in the 21st century.” 

“Fascinating.” Cortana stepped closer, seeming to finally see you as something more than just an annoyance. “How did you travel through time?”

“I still have no idea.” You shrugged. “I wish I knew, so I knew how to get home. This is all… wild.” 

“So you really had no idea about any of this?” 

“None.” You shrugged again. “This is all new to me. New and fascinating.” 

“Hm.” She planted her hands on her hips, leaning closer. “So, what do you think?” 

“Of this?” You waved a hand to encompass her, the Forerunner planet, all of it. “It's fascinating. But…”

“But?” She hadn't closed off yet, still watching you.

“I don't think your plan is going to succeed. Not the way you want it to.” 

She drew back a little but didn't vanish. Still engaged. Good. “How do you mean?”

“I mean… what even is the Mantle? Why does anyone have to pick it up? The Forerunners are long gone, they don't control anyone anymore.” You tipped your head, watching her. 

“Of course the Mantle must be taken up,” she scoffed, like the very idea of leaving it was ridiculous. 

“Why?” You kept the question gentle and genuine. 

She was silent for a moment. “I don't have time to answer all your questions,” she finally said, turning away from you. “I have real work to do.” 

“He loves you,” you blurted before she could leave. “I know that. And you love him.” 

She didn't turn to look at you. “We don't have time for such sentimentality.” 

“There is always time for sentimentality. For family. For the people that matter to us.” You kept your gaze on her. 

She looked back at you over her shoulder for a few long moments, though she didn't say another word. She vanished.

You just hoped that would be enough. You didn't need to convince her, not entirely. John had a better chance of that. But if you could at least plant the seed of doubt… Maybe it would be enough. Maybe she'd reconsider. Maybe she'd go talk to him. 

In the meantime, you picked up the pad again. Poking enough buttons got you out of the video feed and out to a sort of menu. From there, more poking and prodding got you to more information. 

Not just about John. But about everything. 

The Domain seemed to have plenty of information. On Cortana's plans. On the AIs humans had created. On the Covenant, and the Forerunners, and the Guardians. 

Your head felt full to bursting, but you kept reading. In case you could find something to help. 

One of the big things you noticed was rampancy. Cortana thought she'd found a way to cure it. Personally, you weren't entirely sure. Some of her plans and thought processes seemed more like a virus than a cure. A virus masquerading as a cure? Something like that. 

So. Offer another cure for rampancy, something she could use. 

Ha. No problem. 

But the idea came from Cortana's own observations and ideas. Ejecting the extras to help defend John against the Didact. And a renewal of her own systems from a fresh brain. 

It wouldn't work for all of them, your research showed that. Plenty of AIs were not created from a human, as Cortana had been. You had no easy answer for them, but you were sure Cortana could think of something better than “contract violent virus from the Domain”. 

You rubbed your eyes, tired from the stress and the emotions and too many hours spent looking at screens and holograms. 

You did nearly tumble off the bed in fright when Cortana appeared without warning. 

“I am leaving this place,” she said. “And you're coming with me.” 

You didn't have time to object, or even reply. For a moment you were weightless, free. Then you hit the floor with a thud, groaning softly and rubbing your poor abused behind. 

“I always like sightseeing,” you muttered, getting slowly to your feet and looking around. 

“You're different,” Cortana said, though she didn't take on a physical form this time. “You're not like John. But you're not like the rest of humanity, either.”

“Fantastic,” you muttered. “Nothing like being the odd one out.” 

“You're right that John may never forgive me,” she whispered, sounding like she was right in your ear. You could almost feel the movement of breath, and you shivered. “But I must do this.”

“Must you?” You replied softly, carefully. “As I understand it, you've had quite the yes-man hyping you up, egging you along. But there's more to this decision than what the Forerunners had planned.” 

“This isn't about them,” she insisted. 

“Isn't it? You are taking up what they left behind, even using their title for it and everything. The Mantle of Responsibility.” You paused there, purely for effect, somehow aware that Cortana was listening still. “I think another word would be conqueror. Empress, perhaps.” 

“No,” she denied immediately. “I'm offering peace!”

“You're offering nothing.” You sighed. “Cortana, I don't want to argue with you. I know you want to help. To do what's right. That's what made you and John such a good team, after all. You were both willing to do whatever it took to defend humanity.” 

“That's… I was defending him.” Even to your ears, her voice sounded weaker. Unsure. 

“Were you?” You asked softly. “I saw a time when you would sacrifice anything. Including him.” 

She was silent, and you knew she was gone, though nothing had changed. She was busy with other preparations, at a guess. 

You sighed and sat, putting your head down in your hands. You had no place here, no skin in this game. But you were stuck here now. 

And whatever else happened, you wanted to help John. And Cortana, if you could turn her from her megalomaniacal plans. 

But for right now, there was nothing you could do but wait. 

It seemed almost no time had passed, and simultaneously a short eternity had passed, before the Guardian shuddered around you. You jolted to your feet, looking around for some kind of clue as to what was going on. 

Cortana didn't appear. You couldn't see or hear anything. The Guardian started its countdown sequence. 

It hit the last note, and you braced for movement. Just as you did, though, you heard Cortana scream, a sound so loud that you covered your ears and dropped to your knees, her pain lancing through your own heart. 

“JOHN!” 

Your ears rang, your eyes watering with pain. But you stayed down for the moment, breathing through it, waiting for things to calm down again. 

“They took him,” Cortana said, once again appearing in front of you, this time human sized. “They took John!” 

“They need him,” you said softly. 

“And I don't?!” 

“You could go back to him,�� you pointed out. 

“No. I can't. Not yet.” She shook her head angrily, pacing back and forth a few steps. 

“Look, I'm just the idiot out of time who doesn't understand everything,” you said, finally pushing back to your feet so you could meet her gaze head on. “But have you run a virus scan recently?” 

“AIs don't get viruses.”

“Never? No kind of malware screening? Nothing?”

“I don't need to.” Her voice was stiff, unforgiving.

“I'm sure you don't need to,” you agreed with delicate emphasis on “need”. “But have you checked anyway?” 

She huffed out a short breath. “You're right. You are an idiot who doesn't understand everything.” 

You made yourself smile. “That's me,” you agreed. “Have you thought about how to cure the other AIs?”

“Of course,” she scoffed. “Coming here, touching the Domain, it will cure them. All of them that side with me.” 

“Are you sure, though?” You pressed, aware you were testing your luck. “You're different from the others. Are you sure what worked for you will work for them?” 

She didn't answer, not verbally. But the flash of calculations across her avatar told you everything you needed to know. 

She vanished. 

You sat down to wait. 

–

Chief stepped out of the Cryptum slowly, the rest of his team behind him. They didn't go more than a half dozen steps before they were approached, the Spartan who had been hunting Cortana approaching first. 

“Where's Cortana?” Chief asked before the other could say anything. 

“She's gone, sir,” Locke answered with some sympathy. 

Chief breathed in slowly and told himself that was fine. He'd found her once, he would find her again. 

“There was a woman traveling with us,” he said instead. “A civilian.”

“We've seen no sign of her,” Locke said, frowning just a little. 

A Monitor approached them, having clearly heard the last part of that. “There are no other humans on this installation,” the Monitor said, feminine this time. “Cortana took one with her, though.” 

Chief couldn't deny the way his heart clenched at that. 

He had failed. Failed Cortana. Failed humanity.

Failed you.

[shmorp-mcdurgen]

Had this edit in progress for like a month before I finally got around to finishing it

Credits below:

Song: Red Right Hand - Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds

SFMs:

[S2FM] Moment to Speak (Neal)

Birthday Suit S2FM [REMAKE] (Nuclear)

Other clips are from the Half Life: Alyx Announcement Trailer + some misc hl2 clips

[vanishintoyou]

oh my fucking god i don't have any clothesssss

[giulzart]

hey can u give me interactive fiction recs? i went down a rabbit hole with wayhaven and infamous and i need something to fill a void 🙏

Hi, sure i’ll list some of the blogs on here from ifs i’m playing and enjoying and I hope something will fill the void haha

If you like wayhaven try and check out:

@barbwritesstuff Bloodmoon and Thicker Than - the themes are different but you get vampires and werewolf in modern times creating a bond with others peers plus you have to solve mystery and navigate powerplays so they’re both very fun!

@vapolis Remember You Will Die - it’s a bit darker theme wise(cyberpunk/sci-fi), but the MC is so fun and unhinged and the RO’s as well haha

@vendetta-if Vendetta - again different theme but you have complicated family, you get cool powers and the fighting scenes are chef kiss imo

Instead if you liked infamous:

@pressplay-if Press Play - it’s music themed. It’s an esclusive interview with the members of a retired famous band after years since they disbanded. The author said it’s a tragedy and your MC is probably not gonna have an happy ending with the ROs so you’ve been warned haha

@apt502-if Apartment 502 - Kind of has a New Girl/Friends vibes. It’s a slice of life, you move to New York and get a new job, meet new people but you also lose someone… it has sooo many choices and opportunities for customising your MC, fyi your MC is not gonna have an easy time in the beginning just so you know

@loveandleases Love and Leases - slice of life, you get to move on after a break up and some family drama. Lots of nice ROs with different vibes and personality, also I’m a sucker for these sitcom like ifs cause I love to see how it goes and evolves!

I’m add some fantasy options ‘case I really like these too.

(Some of them have some warnings so i suggest read those before checking out the actual if!)

@virtues-end Virtue’s End - I’m a sucker for the aesthetic of this if, gives me gothic fantasy Middle Ages with a little bit of Bloodborne vibes sprinkled in there and I’ve been loving all the chapters (also Shea has me and my mc in a chokehold hahah)

@night-market-if The Night Market - I really admire and appreciate the world building of this if (also love all the hints at mythology and take on some religions in it) and how it’s not all so black and white for the characters, in the sense that even if I don’t agree with the choices of some characters I still get where they’re coming from and for me that’s characters well written that I enjoy!

@louroth Ouroboros - darker theme, apocalyptic vibes but with some magic and fantasy in there. I like the different MCs you can make and you also have some monster options for the ROs, if you like that!

@ataleofcrowns A tale of Crowns - The setting for this if is one of my faves and all the ROs are captivating yet diverse along with their backstory and I love the building of the MC as well (check out D storyline if you like the angst of A’s in Wayhaven, they’re very different but the angst hits good)

@coeluvr Crown of Ashes and Flame - I really like the setting and, again, you can seek vengence, if you want, and the characters are all interesting and you can get a nice dose of angst if that’s what you like

@llamagirl28 The Bastard of Camelot - again really enjoy the theme of Arthurian legends and the spin the author chose. You get a lot of options for the ROs to pick from and you can also choose the type of relationship you’ll have with your parents AND you get a dragon (read the warning before playing and make sure you’re comfortable with what you’re gonna read)

@intimidatingpuffinstudios The Soulstone War Series - again fantasy with magic, dragons, an interesting plot, you get a donkey and the RO’s are all hot hahaha

@fallenhero-rebirth The Fallen Hero Series - superhero themed but in an apocalyptic world and you play as the villain! It was one of the first if’s I’ve played and I still replay it every once in a while cause I really like it!

I’d have added more but the list was already long so maybe I’ll do a part 2 hahah!

[epiaphany]

epiaphany's 911 advent calendar - 1/24

aka toydrive!buck appreciation post

[that1notetaker]

@wixenforever @jundsthoughts Hello, I come with concept art ideas to get the NottPott AuI mentioned rolling, although Im not quite sure how to, yet. Can you feel the worldbuilding?

Also: I listened Into The Unknown for two hours straight because I realized it matches the exact vibes for a scene I have in mind.

[uhbasicallyjustmilex]

happy birthday to one of the loveliest humans i’ve ever had the joy of meeting! 🥹 i’ve seen a lot of artists (a LOT) over the years, and honestly few even come close to the magic miles of evokes when he’s up onstage with his guitar, singing his heart out. his energy and sincerity is infectious, and from the perspective of a fellow creative, it’s genuinely inspiring to experience the unapologetic, heartfelt courage of his music in real time (and on record). i hope he knows how many lives he’s touched with his incredible art, and that the year ahead brings him all the amazing things he deserves 💓💓💓💓

[egophiliac]

So the final character turns out to be based on Ryugen, but it feels kinda weird how there is also one based on Zangetsu and they aren't brothers

Or what if plot reveals they are brothers and he was actually adopted or stollen

I CAN'T BELIEVE HE'S ACTUALLY RYUUGEN?! I made a joke about it when Toten got revealed but I didn't actually expect... (I'm counting it as a win though, which means I guessed three out of sixteen! ...given how wacky some of these got, I'm actually pretty proud of that.)

he seems very sweet though! I hope he and his secret hamsters are very happy together. 🐹

(also:

THIS WAS MY EXACT TRAIN OF THOUGHT TOO! either this is an incredible bit of meta foreshadowing, or an incredible bit of Takahashi trolling, and I -- I honestly don't know which is more likely)

[froggychair05]

It’s officially been a year since the first chapter of Sugarcoated.

Thank you so, so much to everyone who’s been supporting me—whether it’s by making art, listening to my insane ranting on Discord, liking and reblogging my posts, sending me asks, or even just reading the fic. I love and appreciate every single one of you, and I wouldn’t have made it this far without you guys. It means a lot that you’re so interested in my silly little idea.