#Or did you just think you could keep beating me like a trained dog

[mushroom-for-art]

Expression practice via that meme template

I can feel my patience slipping away,,,

[auspicioustidings]

Savage

Summary: Request for some Scottish warrior Soap taking an English maiden as a prize.

Words: 3.7k

CWs: Violent non-con (I am so serious, do not ready this if it's not your thing), hardcore smut

–

Authors Note: This is very much a rape fantasy. Traditionally rape fantasies have historical grounding in minorities who felt ashamed of their own desires so had to fantasise a situation in which they were blameless for engaging in a stigmatised action because it was forced. It’s sort of where a lot of the noncon trope in bodice rippers comes from because women in unhappy marriages need a fantasy in which they can get rid of the shame for wanting passionate or rough sex because they imagine they fought against it. A lot more people have rape fantasies than people generally realise and truly a miniscule barely there number of them would ever think it was ok to actually assault someone. All that to say, this is not me condoning anything in real life. If you find fantasies like this don’t do it for you, then do not read it, but don’t then shame people who do. There is psychology behind why people fantasise about these things, it’s pretty normal and you don’t need to be worried that it is some moral failing. Mind your business.

It was a miraculously good match for you, a high ranking soldier of the King’s army. You were technically of noble blood, but just barely. You lived simply, not in a large house but in a small village where you held no sway over anyone else and were treated as common. But the village was close to the border between England and Scotland and every day it became more tense as whispers of raids from villages to the West skittered between houses like rats.

You didn’t know how your uncle had made arrangements for this beneficial marriage for you, but it would get you moving South in a few days time to marry and then you would finally be able to relax with this war much further away from you. You had heard horror stories of what happened to young maidens when savages came pillaging. They said that they didn’t wear anything under those kilts, they said it was to make it easy to bury their cocks in any hot hole they could find. They said they didn’t have any tame qualities, not like the English. Scottish men were feral, the comparison to dogs not holding water because at least dogs could be trained. 

When you retreated to bed you got on your knees to say your prayers. As always you had to beg forgiveness for the licentious thoughts that sent thrills straight to your cunt whenever you thought about the images all those rumours put in your head.

–

The noise of chaos woke you in a panic, heart hammering against your ribcage as the smell of smoke drifted on the air and war cries sounded. You recognised your own kinfolk of course, the battalion of soldiers stationed here to keep eyes on the border. But it was the cries of those animals from the country to the North that sent you scrambling out of bed in only your chemise, knowing you had to run and hide before they could see you.

You slipped out of the bedroom, a frightened little rabbit looking for a burrow to hop into. The smell of smoke was stronger in the main room and you could see the orange glow of flames through the window. Going outside would be a risk, but hiding in here may get you burned to a crisp should this building be lit up. You did not have time to make the decision as the door burst off of its hinges, a muscular man in a blood spattered kilt with a warrior's mohawk and wild eyes panting like a dog as he caught sight of you.

You were frozen, unable to even breathe. And then after a beat his mouth stretched into a horrid manic grin as he bounded towards you. That finally shifted you from freeze to flight as you scrambled back through to the bedroom, trying to get to the small window. You threw the top half of your body through the gap but his rough hands grabbed your naked ankles and yanked you back, hard. You felt the chemise catch on the window frame, the fabric bunching up to completely expose you to him before he let go of your ankles letting you crash to the ground. 

Your knees throbbed from the hard floor and by the time you were trying to crawl away he had his hand in your hair, brutally pulling your head up and craning it to look at him leaning over and getting into your face.

“Hear I have a wee noble bitch on my hands.”

Of course he would know. There were families here who would tell them anything to save themselves and pointing them in the direction of a noble maiden, one who was betrothed to an English soldier at that, would certainly be information that could spare them. The shouts outside sounded more heavily weighted towards those in his own gruff and growling accent now. The English soldiers were losing.

“I-I don’t know what you are talking about ser” you cried gently, not knowing how else to save yourself. 

“Bonnie words” he growled, pulling so sharply at your hair that you thought your scalp might be bleeding and using his other hand to grope meanly at one of your breasts through the rough fabric of your nightwear.

You cried out, feeling the tears immediately spill over and stream down your face. He was so strong, you could barely budge against his hold, and he reeked of blood and fire and sweat and hot arousal. You squeezed your eyes shut and he only growled at you.

“Ye’ll keep those eyes open, yer going tae watch yer wee English cunt take me like a whore or I’ll take yer tight arse instead.”

You choked on a sob and opened your eyes, seeing that his were full of sick glee and heat. The hand groping at your tits moved under the chemise to cup roughly at your sex and he pulled you to your feet by that hand. You screamed at how it felt as he abused you with his hand, grinding the heel against you. You felt a hot flood of bitter shame as he swiped a finger violently through your folds. What he found there made him pause for a moment, his face lighting up in unrestrained glee.

“Fucking English slut. Y’er dripping.”

You had heard women who said it would be better to be wet if they were to be taken against their will. You did not agree. Him knowing that your traitorous body found his rough abuse of it arousing was so humiliating you felt you would rather die. He was so oppressive in his demeanour, so big and aggressive above you that you imagined he may break your bed with what he was about to do to you. How foolish of you to think he would have that level of mercy.

“Going tae show all those bastards how their women take Scottish cock” he laughed, spearing two fingers inside you to their full length with no softness at all and pulling you by them.

You could not breathe. You had never had anything inside you and those two fat fingers felt like they were stretching you so much you would tear. He walked backwards so he could keep them firmly inside you and you stumbled pathetically after him, needing to keep as close to him as possible to stop the painful press against your walls that came from him pulling if you did not move. 

The shame was overwhelming as you emerged, full of his fingers and stumbling after him with tears streaming down your face, to find that your country's soldiers had been defeated with the survivors on their knees, hands bound. You were being paraded in front of them you realised, they had been put right here in the town square so they could bear witness, the Scottish soldiers standing behind them feral and full of lust as they took in their leader pulling you in front of them by the cunt. 

When he ripped his fingers out of you, your knees buckled and a high whine left you. You had went from feeling too full to feeling far, far too empty. You could barely hear anything but the blood rushing through you as your heart hammered. That and him as he taunted the soldiers on their knees. 

“Our women would ne’er let ye touch them, they’d die first. Yer clean wee English princess on the ither hand?” he said, planting a booted foot to your chest and pushing until he had you pinned on your back underfoot, “she’s gagging fir it. Foaming at the gusset tae take strong Scottish cock, put a real warrior in her belly.”

His own men cheered at that and you watched on with horror as he cocked his head at one of them and he began to approach you. 

“Naw a monster though am I my wee slut? Ye’d be wet enough fir one of their small English cocks nae doubt, but fir mine? Going tae need something to help me sink in good and deep.”

The other soldier went to his knees between your legs and you watched as he pulled his throbbing cock from under his kilt, jerking it violently. You tried to move away, his cock so close you could feel the heat of it between your legs, but the boot on your chest held you still. When you tried to close your legs the man touching himself used his other hand to wrench one of your knees until it was touching the ground, using his own knees between your thighs to help him keep your glistening cunt fully on display.

When the head of his cock stroked through your folks, slicking you with his pre-cum and bumping at your clit, you were so overwhelmed that you didn’t quite manage to bite back your moan. They laughed meanly at you as the man found his release, spurting hot cum all over your pussy, smacking his cock against your stomach when he was done to shake off the last drops.

It was filthy, you felt sticky and like you were on fire. The next soldier took his place and spat right on your already disgusting cunt as he began to stroke himself. By the time he had painted you with his seed and the third was started, the man above pressed his foot harder to get your attention and all you could do was stare up into his taunting eyes, trying to focus on him so you could not think of what was going on between your legs. You cried up at him, trying to find any level of sympathy in him.

“Keep crying and I’ll gie ye something tae cry about princess.”

Oh you hated him calling you that when you were pinned down in the dirt, defeated soldiers of your country watching as their enemies smeared their cum all over your exposed body. Watching as they made a sloppy mess out of you in preparation for their leader to shove his cock deep inside and pump you full of his savage children.

You did not know how long you stared up at him, not able to look away as you felt the heat of his men on your body, your own body getting hotter and hotter with each slide of velvety throbbing skin against your own. He had started to talk to you, his eyes not budging. It wasn’t the defeated soldiers he was taunting, it was you, ruined and disgraced under his boot.

“See how good I am tae ye little whore? Letting my men make ye flush wi pleasure. Don’t deny it, think I cannae see yer face whenever ye feel a cock on that wee untouched pussy? Like a fucking bitch in heat. I’ll fuck ye like one. Get ye on yer hands and knees so ye can look yer precious King’s soldiers in the eye when ye fall apart on my cock. When ye’r fucking begging for my cum. Wilnae even have tae dae any work, ye’ll be fucking yourself back on me ye needy slut.”

You shook your head in horror at his claims, the true fear being that he would make them true. Already you felt in a daze, felt empty and desperate. But you felt fear as well as he put his arm under his kilt, rucking the fabric up to grab at his cock. It was huge and you found yourself panicked and squirming as the last of his soldiers grunted and slapped the meat of your thigh to get you to stay still. You were rambling incoherently as the man above stroked slowly at himself, causing that thick weapon between his legs to throb and seem even bigger. 

“It won’t fit, it’s not going to fit, please I’ll die, you’ll split me open. It’s so big no no I can’t, I can’t!”

You didn’t even feel the last of his soldier’s loads splatter onto you, didn’t notice when his hands left your flesh. You would have rapidly purpling skin in the shape of fingerprints all over your thighs from how you had been held still by all of them, but you could not feel the dull pain of it through your fear of what was to come.

“Ye’ll take whit I gie ye and ye’ll fucking thank me princess.”

He removed his foot and it was only then you realised that he had been pressing down hard enough that your breaths had been shallow. The rush of oxygen from being able to fully expand your lungs again made you horribly dizzy, but it also flooded right down to your clit and made your body jerk violently with the sensation. 

He didn’t take his hand from his cock and he bent so he could use the other to grab your ruined hair again, yanking your head up and shoving himself into your mouth. You choked, legs scrambling to get underneath you to give you some stability with which to batter your fists against his thighs, trying to pull away. He laughed meanly at your attempts, moving the hand that was touching himself to join the one tangled in your hair on the back of your head and pulling your head at the same time as he thrust forward, settling himself fully in your throat. 

You were gagging around him, tears really streaming down your face now as you begged him with your eyes to let you breathe. He held you there, his own eyes glittering with satisfaction, until your muscles started to give in and you felt your eyes dropping closed as your brain became cottony. Then all at once he pulled you off and you were gulping in oxygen around your coughing and sputtering, the rush much more intense this time. 

He held your head tilted up at him so he could watch your face as he shoved his boot between your legs and got you over the edge. Oh weren’t you a delicious little thing for him, getting off so hard on how he used you, moaning shakily and wantonly in the dirt beneath him in front of his triumphant soldiers and your defeated ones. 

“Good fucking girl” he growled with a feral grin, letting you ride it out with little aborted thrusts on his boot, unable to control your body. 

You looked gone, eyes glazed and body slack. Couldn’t have that, he needed you screaming for him. He needed your blood fighting between being frozen with terror and boiling with need. And he needed you full of him, needed to be able to feel his own cock through your stomach so fucking clearly that he could jerk it. 

You were thrown forward, top half of your body collapsing pathetically into the dirt right where it was covered in the sweat and cum of his soldiers. He manhandled your hips up, leaving your face crushed into the dirt and your ass up high for him, cunt presented. You felt his hot breath at your ear and it was a sudden shock when you realised he was growling lowly into your ear, his words for you and you only.

“S’going tae hurt, yer going tae scream yerself hoarse for me and then I’ll get ye tae milk me when I rip pleasure out of all that pain. Will treat ye right after little princess, like one of my good Scottish lassies, but right now ye’r my fucking English whore.”

The confusing mix of sentiments cleared some of the fuzziness from your mind but you had no time to dwell. He was right, it did hurt and you did scream yourself hoarse. He had lined himself up and plunged into you, cock coated and slick from the cum of his soldiers but no less huge inside your tight virgin pussy. He had split you in two, you were sure of it. His cock must have broken through you, was sitting in your ribcage and punching all the air from your lungs.

You blacked out for a moment, coming right back to when he pulled out to fuck brutally back into you again, slapping your ass so hard that you felt the sting all the way up to your fingertips and making you choke on the sob that fought through the screaming. He ripped at your hair, making you look at the defeated soldiers on their knees. Making you watch their own cocks swell at your treatment. Your utter ruination was making them hard. Your head being wrenched back meant you had to go to your hands as he pounded you, and you saw how they looked as one of your breasts was fucked right out of the chemise, bouncing lewdly for them to see with every hard thrust.

The humiliation had you digging into the dirt like you had claws, feeling the bite of the earth pushing under your nails. It sparked something in your brain, almost like you could see them sharpen. Like you could feel your shoulder blades become more pronounced, become something sinewy and sleek and animal. He was fucking you like a predator and you were drooling and howling and panting like his prey, back bowed as he pulled your hair harder and had to staring at the sky babbling prayers into the night air. 

“S’too much, can’t, I can’t. Full, too full.”

“Ye fucking can. Yer tight fucking cunts trying tae strangle me, wants my cum so bad naw? Perfect English pussy, so slutty and needy for a real cock” he growled, hand letting go of your hair and smacking your ass right over where he had before, causing you to howl at the pain. 

The pain and something else, something that had no place here and yet had been lingering from the moment he had caught you. Something that had been getting closer and brighter and more insistent with every abuse you were subject to. Something that he invited in when your arms collapsed beneath you without him holding your heads weight anymore and he ground your face into the ground before bringing his hand to your clit and pinching. 

Your scream was raw and hoarse, throat well past being able to produce a clear sound. The orgasm was blinding and every bone felt like it had liquified. You saw white and then you saw hardly anything, only vague shapes and colours. The only thing now was how his cock filled you. The shame was gone, replaced with the truth that you loved this. You loved how he used you like this, how he violated you in front of these soldiers just because he could.

“That’s it princess, fucking take it” he hissed, stopping his thrusts and letting you do all the work.

You didn’t even realise now how you wildly fucked yourself back on his cock trying to chase the pain of overstimulation, addicted to the way it made you feel some sick hazy pleasure. You were drooling onto the dirt, tasting the earth mixed with cum and finding the disgust of it only felt right now. When his hand came to your stomach and pushed to feel himself bulging there you came again, harder, babbling thank yous to him.

He bit out a string of curses above you as your pussy squeezed so hard it was forcing him out, but he was strong as he forced himself balls deep and held there, finding his release as you milked everything out of him and into your womb. The liquid heat of it was the last thing you felt as you passed out, blissed and fucked out of your mind. 

–

John MacTavish allowed himself a moment to lean his body against your back, inhaling the scent of sweat and dirt and cum and fear and lust from your limp body. So good for him, took it perfectly. He hissed when he finally pulled out, resisting the temptation to just keep going beyond what would feel good because fuck, being inside you had been a religious experience. 

He was nothing if not a man of his word though, and he scooped your body gently into his arms to get you onto a horse and ready for him to take over the border where he could give you that princess treatment he had promised. The surviving soldiers they would leave beaten and bloodied but not dead. After all, someone had to tell your betrothed all the details.

-

“Fucking MacTavish” he hissed after excusing the man who had given the report.

He had made him give it in full detail, told him to leave nothing out. 

“Kept her alive by the sounds of it, maybe looking to get a bastard out of her” Garrick mused.

“Knowing him he’ll keep her near the border to taunt us instead of moving her further up North” Price added.

Simon Riley would not be letting his betrothed get away with allowing MacTavish of all people to take the maidenhood that rightfully belonged to him. She needed a proper punishing fuck from an English man to learn better.

“Doesn’t matter where he keeps her. I’m going to take her, and she’s going to learn what happens to sluts who spread their legs for those Scottish bastards”.

[moonandstarshyuck]

"Always."

lando norris x gn!bf!reader

notes: I haven’t written since 2019, so bear with me. I’ve found myself thinking about a little blurb for Lando recently (actually a lot of ideas, but this one is sticking with me more than the others at the moment).

For some context, Lando’s been receiving a huge amount of hate online (and in-person) recently. I haven’t been a fan for that long—I got into F1 this summer, in 2024—but I’ve grown to care about him. I was there for Lando losing the championship, and while I think we all knew it would come to this (Max winning felt inevitable) but I’m proud of Lando for pushing so hard this entire year.

Still, with all the hate directed at him, I’m seeing a new side of him, and I’m learning that he’s a person with feelings like anyone else. I can tell he doesn’t always have the highest opinion of himself and tends to take the blame for anything that goes wrong during his races. What struck me about this is how much I relate to it. I blame myself for things out of my control or when I mess up. What sucks with Lando is that his small, human errors are what so many people focus on to criticize him—whether it’s why he didn’t win the championship or why they think he’s a bad person (which he absolutely isn’t).

The inspiration for this came from an interview he did after the Brazilian GP. At that point, everyone knew it was almost mathematically impossible for Lando to win the championship, and he talked about struggling in the aftermath: “I literally couldn’t sleep for the first two days…So I did like, what, 36-40 hours straight. So that probably made everything worse. When you’re tired, you’re more moody, and that kind of thing…I was just sat at home alone. It probably would have been better if I had been with my friends. But they don’t live in Monaco. They also have lives and are busy doing other things. And I’m a big overthinker, so like the whole flight home, the whole week, it just played over and over in my head. What could I have done differently? Why did I do that? Why did I not do this? You start thinking of all the scenarios that you kind of blame yourself for, why it’s now not possible, that kind of thing. And yeah, because I overthink and I struggle with that kind of thing, that took a bigger toll in the days after. It wasn’t an easy time.”

And I keep on finding myself wishing someone could have been there for him in person, so that he was okay. So, I wrote this. The reader in this is dating Lando but is written as a gender-neutral character that uses They/Them pronouns. The reader also has a service dog, a Bernese Mountain Dog named Thunder, to help with their own depression and anxiety (I’m not an expert on service dogs, so this many not be 100% accurate).

They woke up that early morning to the sunlight shining on their face, streaming in from the window outside. The bliss of sleep clung to them as they lay there, cocooned in warmth, the covers snug around their body. They stretched lazily, blinking their eyes open.

Instinctively, they turned to look beside them—only to find the space next to them empty. It’s too early in the morning to be anywhere else but in bed, even for training, they thought. Lando should still be here.

The realization pulled them out of their sleepy haze. The past couple of days had been not kind to Lando. They knew that he had a tendency to keep his feelings bottled up and beat himself up over his perceived failures. They understood that feeling all too well—the guilt, the constant sense of disappointment, the nagging thought that were never good enough. They had wrestled with those feelings since they were a child.

It wasn’t something that had an easy fix. If they had found the answer, they would have shared it with Lando years ago. But they had learned that the best way to fight those thoughts wasn’t isolation. Talking to someone, writing feelings down, even simple positive affirmations—thought they might sound silly—could help push back against the negative spiral. They had told Lando this countless times.

But Lando had a problem with not wanting to “inconvenience” anyone with his emotions. No matter how many times they reassured him that they were always there for him, he struggled to let himself. They didn’t blame him—it was human to struggle against your own mind.

What made everything worse was the constant online hate. Every little mistake or sarcastic comment from Lando seemed to turn into an avalanche of criticism. They remembered the first time they’d seen him like a hateful comment about himself on Instagram—the little heart next to a cruel statement, paired with note: “Creator liked this.” It had broken their heart. How could the Lando they loved ever believe such awful things about himself?

After Brazil, it had been clear that he wasn’t okay. He’d barely spoken since coming home, choosing instead to himself. They had given him space, hoping he’d find a way to process his feelings. But by the second morning, when he still hadn’t come to bed—almost forty hours after returning home—they knew they couldn’t stand by any longer.

That morning, they rose slowly from the bed, a plan beginning to form in their mind. Lanod needed someone to step in—someone to remind him he didn’t have to face his struggles alone. They were determined to be that person for him.  They couldn’t take it anymore, seeing the person they loved so badly, punishing himself over his ‘failures.’

The first step was to confirm where he was. Grabbing their phone, they opened Twitch and navigated to Max’s stream. After a few moments of watching, they heard Lando’s voice—tired, strained, but unmistakably his. He was joking with Max, his words clipped, like he was holding himself together with sheer willpower. It was enough to break their heart. They opened their messages with Max.

Thunder's Owner

Lan’s streaming with you rn?

Sent at 7:48 AM.

After a few seconds, Max replied.

Maximilian

Yeah he’s on voice-only.

Sent at 7:50 AM.

Gonna do something about him?

Sent at 7:50 AM.

Max knew. Of course he did. He probably heard the exhaustion in Lando’s voice, the edge self-loathing that came with overthinking. They typed back quickly:

Thunder's Owner

Yeah

Sent 7:52 AM.

Going to unplug his setup and drag him out of there.

Sent 7:52 AM.

Maximilian

Lol.

Sent 7:52 AM.

I’ll keep an eye out for when he disappears.

Sent 7:53 AM.

Thunder's Owner

Thx

Sent 7:54 AM.

They quietly made their way to Lando’s gaming room and eased the door open. Lando sat at his desk, controller in hand, headset clamped over messy curls.  He looked worn down, his shoulders slumped as he focused on the screen. His voice through, muted put playful, as he bantered with Max.

For a moment, they just watched him. Even now, he was handsome, but the tiredness in his expression made their chest ache. He deserved rest. He deserved to feel okay. And he wasn’t going to get that by sitting here punishing himself.

As soon as Lando died in-game and leaned back in his chair, they seized the opportunity. They crossed the room, catching his attention when they came into view.

“Why’re you—” Lando began, frowning, but they didn’t let him finish. Reaching down, they unplugged everything from the wall.

“What the hell—” he exclaimed, spinning around in his chair.

“No,” they said firmly, cutting him off. “I’m not you hurt yourself anymore. Get up.”

Lando blinked, clearly taken aback. “You can’t just do that!” he protested, but they were already tugging gently at him arm, urging him out of his chair.

“Angel, what are you—”

“No,” they repeated, their voice steady. “Get up,”

Lando hesitated for a moment before letting out a resigned sigh and standing. They took his hand, leading him out of the gaming room and down the hall to the living room. He didn’t resist, but he followed like a man in a daze. Once they reached the couch, they turned to him. “Sit,” they said, pointing at the cushions. Lando raised an eyebrow, opening his mouth to argue, but they shook their head. “Stay.”

They turned to Thunder, who had been waiting for them in the hallway, and told him, “Thunder, guard,” while pointing at Lando.

The dog immediately moved into position, standing alert in front of the couch. Lando’s eyes widened slightly as Thunder fixed him with an unblinking stare. He shifted as if to get up, but Thunder’s stance didn’t waver.

“Jeez, I wasn’t going to get up,” he mumbled to Thunder, but Thunder just sat there and watched him until he fully relaxed back into the couch.

The thought ran through Lando’s head, how he had honestly forgotten how menacing his own dog could look. He knew Thunder was trained, saw reminders of it daily with how he interacted with his partner, but he was still shocked at how trained Thunder really was at that moment.

Thunder was still staring at him when he pulled out his phone from his pocket, opening up his texts with Max.

LN

I was just dragged out of my gaming room and told to sit on the couch and like a dog.

Sent at 8:05 AM.

Not against it, but how tf did they get so determined?

Sent at 8:05 AM.

Thunder’s watching me right now.

Sent at 8:06 AM.

I forgot how menacing he could be.

Sent at 8:06 AM.

*Picture attached.*

Lol.

Sent at 8:06 AM.

Max (The 1st One)

He’s like ‘try me, I dare you’

Sent at 8:06 AM.

LN

Yeah, I don’t particularly want to try him

Sent at 8:07 AM.

Max (The 1st One)

Lol.

Sent at 8:07 AM.

They told me before they did it

Sent at 8:07 AM.

I just let them. Lol.

Sent at 8:07 AM.

LN

Helpful. What if they were trying to  kill me?

Sent at 8:08 AM.

They wouldn’t have had to if you kept doing what you were doing.

Sent at 8:09 AM.

Lando’s let out a quiet sigh, Max’s words sinking in. He glanced at Thunder, who hadn’t moved, and felt a pang of guilt. He’d pushed himself too far again, and this time it had clearly worried his partner.

A few minutes later, his partner walked back into their living room. He thought they looked beautiful, wearing one of his old t-shirts and a pair of boxers. They were entirely focused on the bowl they were carrying, and only looked up when they got close enough to hand it to him. He gently took the bowl, looked into it and saw it was one of his prep meals. While not his favorite breakfast, he knew he just needed to eat first, so he started taking bites.

He glanced up every so often, and each time he did, his partner was just sitting there and watching him eat. Lando almost chuckled at his own thought that they looked just like Thunder when watching him, and he smiled into his bowl at the thought. His partner didn’t see his smile, but he continued to eat until he had finished the bowl.

When he was done eating, he set the bowl down, and his partner again pulled him up by the crook of his arm. He just let them do so, having a thought of what was going to happen next.

His partner led them both down the hallway to their bedroom, and opened the door, leading him to sit on their bed, then they turned around and went to close their blinds and draw their black-out curtains to cover up the sunlight from the window. They had turned on their bedside lamp earlier, and the soft orange glow of the lamp permeated the room. They walked past him again, going to close the door after letting Thunder in, then they walked back to their side of the bed, and pulled him to lie down against them.

As he settled against their chest, he felt a bit odd, it being a bit of a difference to feel how much he was loved by them. How much they cared for him. And he finally spoke again, “Thank you.”

“Always, Lan. Always.” They replied, pressing a kiss to his hair.

And for the first time in days, he let himself sleep.

author's note: got inspired to actually write something for once...ty @koalapastries for the inspiration (unknowing inspiration but ty) (also sorry for using your layout outline

comments & reblogs appreciated

and i made the dividers :)

[1whore1gang]

I wanted to try something

NSFW WARNING MDNI!!!!

Soooo I’ve went down the rabbit hole of werewolf!TF141 and honestly I’ve had some ideas pop up, so uh yeah this is what my brain does when it gets on tumblr

Warnings: sex…full blown smut, fingering, p in v, all the warnings y’all,….. i think i used ‘pup’ in here somewhere

MDNI!! NSFW!!

Omega!Reader x Werewolf!141

written as a f!reader

It was like any other day, training with the 141. As the newest addition to this pack, you were pushed hard to be the best. Being one of two Omegas was even tougher, considering the other was your superior.

“Push harder rookie.” Soap’s voice rang out as you pulled yourself off the floor, exhausted and drenched in sweat. “Dig deep, you aren’t goin’ anywhere until you pin me down.”

You want to groan, complain, but you don’t. Instead you brace for impact as the sparing continues. Soap had you beat in just about every category when it came to fighting, this man was HUGE. You couldn’t keep up.

“I’m tapping out!” The words come out quick as Soap backs off.

“Already?” He questions. Soap was one of two members you’ve already met. You haven’t been here very long.

“Yeah, I’m calling it quits.” You push yourself onto your feet, panting. “You can’t expect this out of me on Day 3 can you?”

Soap only laughs, not even a glisten of sweat on him. “You’ll get there pup. Soon enough you’ll be able to take the big dogs down.”

Big dogs?? You think to yourself. There’s guys bigger than Soap here?

Meeting the rest of the team embarrassed you more than you care to admit. This team was graced with two alphas. When you got near the room they were in, every hair stood up on your body, their scent so strong it lingered down the hallway.

Weeks and months go by without a hitch, except for one, but we don’t talk about that…

You were sent on your first mission and it was the night prior when your whole world fell apart. You had just gotten out of the shower when your knees collapsed and your body felt like it was on fire.

“No, no, no…” You had felt sick the last couple of days but chalked it up to something you ate. You felt your skin becoming warm and damp with sweat as it all hit you.

You were in heat

You panicked, the pain engulfing every inch of you, the need for relief taking over your cognitive thinking.

You crawled over to your phone and texted the only person you could trust, the team Beta, Gaz.

Within minutes he was at your door, jumping inside your room to help you dress and get into bed. He was calm, assuring you it was all going to be alright.

That’s when you let out a horrific scream. You covered your mouth immediately, Gaz backing away. “What was that?”

Your eyes were wide. “I don’t know…”

You both froze in time, praying it didn’t draw either of you any unwanted attention. But, unbeknownst to you both, the other 3 men could smell you miles away.

Gaz stayed with you, trying to cool you off and keep you fed and hydrated, it was hours before another man showed up at your door….Soap.

He looked at you with worry, in his pajama pants and shirt. He didn’t even have shoes on…. “What’s going on? Your scent is intoxicating.” He slowly entered your room, approaching you with caution.

Gaz spoke for you, and when he did, Soap asked him to give you and him some space. Soap crawled in behind you, leaning your head against his chest. “Relax for me okay?” Soap was an Omega, just like you, but somehow his presence felt calming. It didn’t dull the ache you felt, but he brought a sense of peace to your mind.

Suddenly, you feel his hands roam down your body to your lounge pants and remove them down to your ankles, lifting your knees to spread your legs. “Do you trust me?”

You could only nod as the cold air of your room hit your bottom half. Soap’s hand took home inbetween your legs, his fingers entering you and filling the emptiness you’ve felt.

A moan left your lips as he moved, your head falling back to rest on his shoulder. Gaz watched on, waiting to be told how he could help.

As good as Soap’s fingers felt, you still felt the searing pain. It wasn’t doing anything to quell your problems. It caused you to question Soap’s methods.

But little did you know, Soap knew exactly what he was doing because it didn’t take long of his fingers in you until the two alphas appeared at your door. The sight before them causing them to become feral, primal even. “Look at that, they smelled us.” Soap smirked.

Looking at Price and Ghost, you couldn’t help but feel a bit exposed, but their presence brought a newfound relief to you.

Price moved first, coming to hover above you against Soap’s chest, his hand brushing your hair down as he spoke softly: “We’re gonna take care of ya.”

Price slowly moved Soap’s hand away, putting his own palm flat against you. His middle finger swiped up, taking in the feeling of you. His eyes closed as he buried himself in the crook of your neck, breathing you in.

Before you knew it, Ghost was now in place of Soap, his hips rutting against your ass, his hands on your chest. You had found yourself sandwiched between the two alphas. You were drinking in every moment.

Price slowly warned you as he moved, slowly letting you adjust to his size, purring in your ear: “That’s it, that’s a good girl.”

Ghost took care of every other area of your body, slowly caressing you in every way. His fingers grazed over your nipples and eventually would travel down to your clit to help you along.

Between both of them, it didn’t take long for you to come undone. Price continued through to his own release, burying himself deep inside you. The feeling was unlike anything.

The sounds you let out as the fiery pain left your body we’re heaven to the men’s ears. Price quickly moved to help clean you up as Ghost covered you with the hoodie he had been wearing. Ghost had marked your sheets with his scent, leaving you surrounded with it.

As soon as you were clean, the alphas left without another word, Gaz quickly coming to your aid with food and water while Soap sat with you, massaging your sides. They kept you company until you had fallen asleep, and they returned to their own rooms.

[skipper1331]

dancing in the snow // Esme Morgan

a/n: based off this request.

"Did anyone see you?" you asked as Esme joined you in the storage room of the Manchester City facility.

"No" she whispered into the dark.

Your arms looped around her neck as hers went around your waist, the spot were they always rested, "I’ve missed you"

In an instant, your lips pressed against hers. Even though, you were together all day long, training with the team, you couldn‘t be with her the way you wanted to.

It was hard not to look at each other for too long.

It was hard to keep your hands to yourselves.

It was hard not to blush at the slightest touches.

It was hard to act like friends.

Because you weren’t.

"I‘ve missed you too" you muttered, pecking her lips over and over. The sweet girl giggled, her thumbs drawing circles into your sides as she looked at you with heart eyes.

Esme was head over heels.

She loved the way you smiled.

She loved the way you laughed.

She loved the way you talked.

She loved that you were you, no matter what.

"Are you coming to mine later?" she asked shyly, cheeks turning into a deep shade of red.

"yes" you replied, smiling sincerely.

Esme and you haven’t been dating for long, everything somehow still new but at the same time not anymore. "I‘ll see you later then" she grinned, pressing one final kiss to your forehead before she slipped out of the room.

-

Your head was resting on Esme’s lap as she absentmindedly massaged your scalp, her main focus on your beautiful eyes. "You‘re so beautiful" she smiled, absolutely smitten. Your cheeks turned red as you covered your face, an upside down smile displayed on your face. "No, don‘t cover it" she grumbled, her hands grasping your wrists gently, "let me see that pretty face of yours"

As she pulled them down, you grinned at her, still blushy cheeks.

After admiring each other for another while, you broke the silence, "I’ve been thinking, maybe we could go to the christmas market?" you asked with puppy dog eyes. Esme could never resist those eyes or say no to you in general, not that she would have either.

Not even 10 minutes later, the two of you left her flat, both of you dressed in winter wear. Her hand firmly held yours as you walked to the city centre. Christmas music was heard from miles away, the colourful lights seen from afar. "It‘s awesome" you stated, admiring the scenery in front of you. "Yeah, you are" Esme sheepishly replied, her eyes only on you. She loved the way your smile reached the corner of your eyes. "Cheeky girl" you giggled, looping your arms around her neck as you laid your head on her chest. Instantly, her arms went around your waist as she pressed a kiss to the top of your head.

Slowly but surely, you started to sway along the faded music, wrapped in your own little bubble.

It was nothing but the sweetness of your relationship..

As a new song started playing, you pulled your head back, still close in her embrace as you inhaled the feeling, the feeling of christmas, the feeling of love.

..dancing in the falling snow.

"I love you" Esme blurted out as the song ended while she placed the loose strand of hair behind your ear. Her touch was gentle and careful - like always.

Your breath hitched. Those three words, the words you have been waiting to hear desperately.

She looked at you with wide eyes, just realizing what she said yet not regretting it.

Esme was in love with you.

Esme loved you.

And this was the perfect moment to tell you.

The widest grin displayed your features, "I love you too." - she matched your smile, heart beating in her chest.

Then you kissed her, standing on tip toes, your hands cupping her cheeks as you softly pressed your lips against hers. The kiss didn‘t last long, both too occupied with smiling at each other - it was like in the movies.

-

"Es!" you yelled from the living room, jumping off the couch, marching towards the kitchen. Esme met you halfway, the panic in your voice clear. "What‘s wrong??" she asked, looking for any sign of injury. "Baby, talk to me" she pleaded as get anxious. You just looked at her, not able to form some words into a sentence. Your mind was blank. Somehow you managed to hold up your phone, only a black screen visible for Esme. "Is something with it? It‘s not broken."

you shook your head. no.

"open it" you whispered, almost inaudible.

She did.

And then she saw it or rather them.

Multiple pictures of the two of you dancing and kissing in the snow. How could you be so careless? "Esme- I’m sorry" you cried, shoulders sagging as your head hung low. "Baby, why are you apologizing?" the defenders hands cupped your cheeks, thumbs wiping away the spilt tears. "That‘s not what you wanted" you sniffed, glossy eyes looking at the beauty herself.

"What are you talking about?"

"Us, public"

"Oh my love" her arms wrapped around your smaller figure, "I don’t mind. I just wanted you to be comfortable with every next step we take" she explained.

-

"Are you excited to see the girls?" Esme asked sweetly as you stared out of the window, St. George’s Park near. "you know I am" you smiled, interviewing your fingers.

It was silent for a few minutes.

"What, um, what about us?" you asked not louder than a whisper, "Do you think they know? What will we do?"

She looked at you, eyes scanning your features, "those pictures made headlines, I think they know and it won‘t change a thing" she replied, her free hand reaching up to cup your cheek, "we‘ll be professionals and girlfriends."

"Okay"

"Maybe there will be some teasing or maybe some explaining to do but that doesn‘t change anything between us" she looked at you with so much adoration, her eyes shining with nothing but love for you. Your cheeks turned red, burning under her touch while her words effected you happily, "I love you" you said shyly, her intense gaze making your knees weak.

"I love you too"

-

Arriving at St. George’s Park and settling down in your rooms felt great. You were excited to be there and for the upcoming nations league matches. You shared your room with Lotte like you always did while Esme was rooming with Hempo. Lotte greeted you with a bear hug as you entered the room - the two of you close friends since the u-teams.

"Young Lady! You‘ve got some explaining to do" she pointed her finger at you strictly, crossing her arms yet letting you go further into the room.

Meanwhile a similar conversation started in Esme’s room.

Esme was unpacking her suitcase as she felt eyes burning into the back of her head. "Do you want to say something?" she laughed, turning around to see the blonde city player glaring at her.

"pretty little girlfriend huh?" she only said, the defender blushing shyly.

"When did it happen?" Lotte asked you.

"A few months ago"

"You do realize I want more information?!"

"I asked her out after the derby" Esme muttered, nervously scratching her arm, "it left my lips before I could even think about it" subconsciously she started to smile, "she said yes" Hempo smiled as she heard the defender ramble on about your first date. She always knew Esme had a crush on you and it made her proud to know that the sweet girl found the courage to ask you.

"Does she treat you right?" Lotte asked as you finally gave her more information. It didn’t take her long to crack your facade - it was Esme who you were talking about, the mention of her name made you tell her everything already. "I won‘t hesitate to hurt her if not" the brunette stated firmly. "She does" you answered, "she treats me like a princess."

"You really lover her, don‘t you?"

Wide eyes looked at the City forward, was it that obvious?

"I do" a big smile made its way on her face, "she makes me very happy and my heart goes crazy every time she smiles or laughs or- by anything she does" she admitted, eyes so full of love as she talked about you. She was so incredibly in love with you.

-

The rest of the evening continued like that, both of you secretly enjoyed talking about your relationship. Neither of you was ashamed or feared to admit the love you held for one another.

Yes, your relationship was still somehow new - not even a year together but that didn‘t change anything.

Esme loved you.

You loved Esme.

So while you might just were a couple since a few months, many happy years were about to come.

-

The next morning, Esme waited patiently for you in front of your room. She smiled as you stepped out of it, "Hey"

Standing on your tip toes, you leaned up to kiss her good morning, both of you smiling at the simple touch of your lips. "Good morning, Lotte" she greeted your roommate who had also stepped out of the room.

"Morning" sleepy Lotte replied who started walking ahead to get her needed coffee. The two of you followed her, talking about anything and everything.

As you arrived at breakfast, the room fell silent, all eyes on you. What was going on?

"Lovebirds!"

esme.morgan

lucybronze and 23.371 others

esme.morgan ❄️

———————

[verdantwyrm]

i really love the comparison of curly to being a dog. he’s got a lot of the characteristics we associate with dogs and i think it’s interesting to think about how he’s docile with jimmy because jimmy trained him like how an owner trains their dog, but more confident in his role with the others. not that curly was a complete pushover but when jimmy did his emotional manipulation and abuse, curly is still loyal like a dog.

Dude don't even get me started on canine poetry and Curly. Dogs are loyal, they stay forever even if you don't want them to. I've mentioned previously before on how Jimcurly to me is extremely toxic and extremely onesided but to go into it any further, Curly is just a dog in that.

The hand that beats, also feeds. Curly loves unapologetically, and you can especially see this how much and how hard he tries to see the good in Jimmy and how long it takes for him to come to the conclusion that he's not who Curly thinks he is. Truly a situation of him thinking that Jimmy is just troubled, angry and frustrated but has a good heart at the end of it all, not understanding and not willing to accept thats false because it would be accepting the truth that he is beyond being anything good.

The lines "We're defined by our past, but not slaves to it" is greatly shown in how he feels about Jimmy, that he works hard to make sure that he isn't a slave to it. The job, the future, the companionship, the loyalty.

Dogs don't know bad from good, they only know their owner. And Jimmy has trained him well, to not bark, to not whine, to stay and to heel. Thats why he's so docile, why he doesn't immediately try to argue or fight he just fawns, he pleases and tries his best to mediate every situation, to de escalate because he truly wants to see the good in Jimmy. Its a real thing abusers do, they chip away at their victims confidence, their personality, their whole livelihood to make them completely dependent on the abuser so they can forever hold that above them, to stop them from ever running away.

Jimmy has most certainly twisted Curly into these vines and mess of feeling like he needs Jimmy in some way, he knows he's an ass he even tells Anya this, so what could possibly be keeping him so attatched to someone that does not deserve it? That deserves that kindness the least?

I feel like Curly and Jimmy's relationship was good at one point, maybe a long time ago Jimmy showed real promise, real love, real kindness, and then something just... changed, and Curly has been desperately trying to see that again, he knows its there, he just can't see it.

[djarinova]

"Am I your lockscreen?"

jean kirstein x gn reader

content - modern au, fluff, jean calls reader pretty, jean gets embarrassed when you look at his phone words - 1k

"Do you seriously think you have better moves than me, Kirstein?"

Jean tilts his head, but keeps his eyes focused on the screen, not wanting to let your taunting get to him. 

The two of you had been engaged in a close battle of video games all afternoon, currently playing a 3 round game of tennis on the Wii to decide which one of you gets to choose the place you'll order food from for dinner. 

"Babe, just watch this serve and you'll be eating your words." He brings his arm back in preparation for his tennis serve. "Just like you'll be eating Chinese food for dinner!" 

Jean ends his sentence with a whoop, clearly already planning his victory as he prepares to undergo what he assumes will be his final few swings. 

The first swing is his serve, a nice and solid start in which he had you leaping to cover your end of the court. 

"You know if I win this set I win the entire match, right? It's match point, baby."

You scoff, trying your best to ignore him. 

His second swing has your heart beating frantically, and even though your eyes have been trained on his every move on screen, you still almost miss it—managing to save it by the skin of your teeth. 

"I love you baby, but there ain't no way I'm letting you win right now."

And he's right. His third swing is his most forceful yet, and you're pretty sure he almost let go off the Wii remote—thank god you told him to use the remote straps. 

You groan the second your Mii misses the tennis ball, but it's drowned out by Jean's incredibly loud, and giddy, cheering. 

"Wooooooo! Aw yeah, ah ye— did you see that, babe?—ah yeah, I'm a genius, I literally nailed that!—that was amazing." 

His cheering bleeds into something more along the lines of a song, and you can't help but laugh as you reach across the sofa to pick up Jean's phone, thinking that you may as well get the menu up and ready to browse while he finishes his gloating.

"Yeah yeah yeah, it's probably for the best anyway, you're such a sore loser—" 

Jean turns to look at you—ready to take all your teasing about how much of a bad loser he is, and how you let him win this game to save your poor ears from having to hear all his whining—when his eyes widen.

“Am I your lockscreen?” You ask, stunned.

ShitShitShit

Jean grimaces. 

Act dumb.

“What are you talking about? I… I don’t think I have a lockscreen at the moment.”

Not that dumb.

You smile, narrowing your eyes slightly in amusement as Jean’s mouth opens and closes. 

"And you're sure about that, huh?" 

"I think maybe Eren changed it the other day…" 

You stare at him, watching the cogs turning in his head. 

"I never change my lockscreen—I wouldn't even know how to—and if I did I'd only ever change it to something really good—not that you're not good—shit—I mean like, a good photo of the sky or a nice group shot or a pic of my dog—not that I think you're like my dog—you're really pretty—not that my dogs not pretty—it's a different type of pretty, you know? You wouldn't compare apples to oranges—no wait—that's not right…"

Jean looks to the ground as he trails off—not daring to meet your eyes. He could feel the tips of his ears burning. His face felt hot. His heart was racing wildly. 

God. That was a mess.

“Jean?”

He continues avoiding your eyes, willing the ground to open up and swallow him right where he stood.

“Jean?” You ask again, “Is this photo from my instagra—”

“You weren’t supposed to see that.” Jean says quickly. 

You look at him for a second—watching his chest rise and fall rapidly, and seeing how his hands are beginning to shake—and you take a step towards him. 

“Jean, would you please look at me?”

He doesn't.

“Baby, I’m serious,” you try not to smile at his stubbornness, “it's very, super, extremely important that you look at me right now.”

You step in front of your boyfriend, placing your hands on his cheeks and angling his head so he is forced to look at you.

“I’m not mad, Jean. I’m not upset or confused or embarrassed, or whatever it is that you think I'm feeling right now.” 

Jean furrows his eyebrows, but he doesn’t dare to interrupt. 

“I love it. A lot. And I can't believe I didn’t know—wait, is this what Eren was teasing you about the other day?”

Jean nods, and you're unable to stop the smile that lights up your face.

“Oh my god… you’re the sweetest guy ever.” 

You move your hands from his face, and instead settle your arms around his waist, pulling him ever so slightly closer to you.

“Why didn't you want me to know?”

“I don’t know… I think maybe I thought it was too soon…?” Jean says, his voice rising as he reaches the end of his sentence.

You shake your head.

“It’s not too soon, definitely not at all. I love it, okay?”

“Okay.” Jean smiles.

“Just promise me one thing—”

“Anything.”

“Next time you want a photo for your lockscreen, just ask me. I don’t want you to be forced to use the same photos that everybody gets to see. I want you to have something special.”

Jean feels his cheeks flare up with warmth at your words, but he nods his head.

Satisfied, you untangle your arms from around his waist and plop yourself down on the sofa, holding his phone out towards him.

Jean’s puzzled look causes you to let out a small giggle.

“Baby… You won, now come over here and order me some Chinese food.”

Jean grins, his cocky winner demeanour suddenly returning as he sits down next to you, flopping himself practically on top of you and slinking his arm around your shoulder.

“Give me that phone babe, it's time for the winner to choose the dinner.”

[misanthropologymajor]

buggin' out (part 2)

plagas!leon x partner!fem!reader

So you've found the President's daughter-- now what?

warnings: parasitic infections, descriptive violence, slow burn, anxious reader, lots of euphemisms for killing, awkwardly written combat, animal death, dog bite, slow building las plagas infections, crossposted on ao3

part one

feedback is appreciated :)

wc: 2.1k

The Merchant greets your trio as you return to the village square. “I ‘ave somethin’ I think you’ll like.” He glints the silver blade of a folding knife toward you. “Could be useful.”

You think for a second before opening the outside pocket of your waist pouch. “Ashley, why don’t we get you this to keep in your boot? Just in case?” You hand the Merchant his asking price before handing Ashley her new steel and juniper navaja, a sturdy antique pocket knife. 

She tucks it into her right boot before brushing an errant cobweb off the hem of her skirt. “Can we take a break?”

“Sorry, we need to keep moving.” Leon walks past the Merchant and enters the town hall. He keeps his hand on his holster as he walks past the flickering flame of the last lit lantern. 

Ashley gives a brief, “Got it.”

You grab her hand to squeeze it briefly as you try to encourage her to keep going. “You should have seen me in Raccoon City. After I got licked in the face by a mutated zombie, I made Leon give me five minutes to cool off. You’re doing better than I was.” 

“Wait, you two were there for Raccoon City? How did you get out?” Ashley nearly stopped dead in her tracks, but you pulled her along with your clasped hands.

“We had some help getting to an underground train below Umbrella’s lab. We made it out with a girl around our age, Claire, and a little girl named Sherry. In the end, we really just got lucky.”

Leon coughs a bit before speaking, “We don’t have time to talk about R.C. If you really wanna know, wait for the chopper.” He wipes the corner of his mouth as he walks past the mantlepiece portrait. 

He continues forward, pushing the door open to reveal the downed bell tower. A man begins climbing through the smashed window of the nearest house. Leon takes aim and shoots him in the head twice before he can fully get outside. An elderly woman in a black bandana shoves his body the rest of the way out of the window frame before climbing through herself.

You shoot the woman just as she finds her footing. Holding the next occupants of the room at bay with shots to the torso before you climb over the most recent corpses. A villager attempts to grapple you. Drawing your leather-handled Bowie knife, you sink it into the soft spot above his clavicle. He drops dead as you return your knife to its sheath. You shoot the final man in the room as Leon helps Ashley through the window. 

You toss a flash grenade into the next room before entering. After shooting one villager lethally, the next two mutate into bladed tentacles. It takes nearly a full clip before the tentacle heads and the other two villagers drop. You look back to Leon and Ashley. Leon’s hair sticks flat to his forehead, and Ashley’s tights have two new snags.

“Let’s keep going. We’ve got to beat this storm.” You shoulder the door open while keeping your gun drawn.  Only two humanoids are in your path, but three mutated dogs scramble between them. Leon shoots at the nearest humanoid as you direct your fire at the dogs, snapping their excessive fangs at you. Ashley waits in the doorway.

As Leon finishes the second humanoid, the last dog manages to evade your fire and leaps to tackle you to the ground. You manage to tuck your head to avoid hitting it on the ground, and it ineffectively tries to bite you through your elbow pads.  Leon pulls it off of you and uses his knife to dispatch the poor mutated canine. As the dog lies limp, you pull yourself up to a seated position, allowing Leon to help you to your feet. 

You check under your elbow pads to ensure that the dog had not been able to cause damage through your protective equipment. Leon grabs your arm to check, as well. 

When you’re cleared, Leon leads off to the pickup location via the farm and stables. You gesture for Ashley to go before you with an over-dramatic hand gesture before finally following. 

One male villager blocks the path forward. Unfortunately for him, he does not see or hear your approach and is facing away. Leon uses his knife to quietly remove him from the situation. He continues his approach to the heavy gate, the final barrier to the farm. Leon’s forearm and shoulders flex as he pushes the door open. 

Quiet voices float through the air over the dilapidated shack you pull Ashley into. Leon continues to slink around the shack. You lean in close and whisper, “Pull out your knife. Only use it if someone tries to grab you. Be careful.” 

As Ashley draws her knife, you walk out with your own gun and knife ready and see an old woman catch sight of Leon. You shoot her in the chest twice as the other villagers move toward the commotion. Ashley clutches her new knife close, yet stays tucked behind you as you fire into the crowd of disgruntled mutant farmers. 

The villagers part to allow a larger bull-masked man to spiral through, propelled by the weight of a large hammer. Leon barely avoids his attack and you reach for the shotgun holstered on your back. You move toward the beast to fire your first shot into his chest. He stumbles, allowing Leon to shoot him, too. Another blast from your shotgun pushes his lifeless body to the ground as Leon uses his own shotgun to kill two smaller villagers in one shot. Ashley squeals at a villager who approaches her but manages to push her knife deep enough into his torso to pause him. His momentary stop allows you to grab him from behind and thrust your own knife into his throat.

As you remove and wipe Ashley’s knife off on your pants, Leon uses his handgun to finish off the last of the villagers in this area.

You return Ashley’s knife while voices approach from the village center. Leon leads you through the next set of gates and onto the suspension bridge. Villagers are approaching from behind and from the path to your right while a distinctly conscious voice rings out. The house directly in front of you, which you had barely even noticed until this point, holds a man you recognize from Leon’s earlier short-term abduction. A large gated fence surrounds the modest home.

“Hey! Over here, come on!” Finding the only option, Leon starts running, shortly followed by Ashley. 

You bring up the rear, and as you run into the house, Leon slams the door closed and barricades it with a large piece of metal. Leon turns on his heel and approaches the mystery man. “You!”

“Hey, listen, about earlier, I–”

“Yeah, about that…” Leon winds up a punch while you consider pulling his arm back. Before you can stop Leon’s attack, the strange man speaks up.

“Hey! I see you found your ‘missing señorita!’” The man looks between both you and Ashley before returning his gaze to Leon.

“This ‘señorita’ has a name, and it’s Ashley. And you are?”

You quickly give your own name before the man can introduce himself.

“Name’s Luis. Encantado.” 

“Great. We all have names.Now then—Who are you? And what're you doing here?”

A crack resounds from where the gate had been. You notice the bookcase near a window across the left side room and run over to push it in front of the window. Leon and Luis move a dresser to hide Ashley in the cavity behind it. A villager breaks through the window between your window and the stairs.

You are nearly done pushing the bookcase in front of the window when Leon shoots right behind you. The villager had gotten much closer than you’d realized, and Leon took him down right before he got the chance to grab you.

“Hordes of them against the three of us. Oh, and let’s not forget– this mob is made up of monsters! You two done warming up? Hope you stretched!” Luis aims his revolver at the window nearest Ashley’s alcove, and you notice a few loose boards in the table behind him. A hammer and several long nails rest on the more stable portion of the table. As Luis and Leon guard the two open windows, you can hear the creaking of wood from the destruction of your bookcase. 

With one foot on a chair and the other on the inside of the table, you begin to prise thick wooden boards from the old table. Leon and Luis kill at least ten villagers as you pull the third board from the table. You grab the boards, hammer, and nails and rush toward Luis’s window. Telling him to switch to the failing bookcase, you hold the board with your torso, the nail with one hand, and use the hammer with your other hand in order to form a more permanent barricade on this window. Luis’s remarks to Leon are drowned out by your repeated hammering and focus on building your barricade. Four more villagers, two being tentacled, are brought down in the time it takes you to get one board fully in place and another partially secured. 

The final nail enters your first barricade, and you shoot a tentacled head before it can stab Leon. You return to the table and pry another board out to give you enough boards for your next barricade. You send Luis to Leon’s window, and Leon takes it upon himself to grab more boards. Using a similar method, you manage to halve the time spent forming a blockade on this second window. 

A crash echoes from upstairs while Leon pulls the final board you need out. Luis rushes up, and Leon gives you the boards before following the Spaniard. The final window blockade is just completed as a dull and deep noise echoes from the middle barricade.

You barely make it up to the landing when another bull-masked man busts through your hard work. “You have to be kidding me! Heads up, one big guy coming from downstairs.”

Before Leon or Luis can heed your warning, a door right behind you slams open. You just barely stop yourself from stabbing Ashley in your shock. “This way, hurry!” Ashley calls to Leon and Luis. 

The door leads to an elevated wooden path. Several villagers pursue you as you rush past a gate. Leon turns his aim to the gin wheel securing the gate, and fires, crushing the nearest villager. The thick log gate blocks the rest. 

Luis leans on the nearest wall to pant as Ashley stumbles into the other wall beside you. She lets out a few deep coughs and a crimson splatter lands on her hand. “What’s happening to me?” You use one arm to hold her shoulders while searching your pack for something to clean her hand with.

Luis walks up and grabs her hand. “Ashley, is this the first time you’ve coughed up blood like this?” She nods.

“You want to start explaining?” Leon’s voice and steps forward hold a threatening undercurrent.

“The cough, the blood, it’s caused by something called a… ‘plaga.’” He pauses, pacing. “Okay, you saw those ‘people,’ right? Well, you have the same thing inside of you. The same thing that made them like that. This, what you’re experiencing, these symptoms, they’re only the beginning.”

“I don’t want to become like them.” At the end of her sentence, Ashley inhaled sharply and began to tremble. You wiped her hand clean with a bandana and scanned her exposed skin for other symptoms. Luis paces away from you, Ashley, and Leon.

“You are, well, lucky. You see, at this early stage, the parasite– the plaga, it is possible to remove it,” Luis paused for a fraction of a second. “With a surgical procedure. All you need is some know-how. And, oh yeah– the right equipment.” With his last sentence, Luis turns on his heel to reveal a jagged scar running diagonally from the middle of his left clavicle to his mid-sternum. 

Unlike you or Ashley, Leon doesn’t make an audible noise of surprise. “Wait, you too?”

Luis releases the front placket of his shirt to address you. “No worries. See, I have a plan. But you’re going to have to trust me.” 

Leon looks between you and Ashley. You barely nod to him, and he more confidently nods to Luis. 

“Great! We’re partners, then.” He begins to stride away. 

“Hey, why are you–” Leon is cut off.

“No time for questions, the clock is ticking.”

“Luis, why are you helping us?” You call through the pouring rain.

“Because it makes me feel better. Let’s leave it at that. I will contact you later.” 

The Spaniard walks into the rain and out of your lines of sight.

[daydream-believin]

Like A Boiled Frog (You Don't Even Scream) [ch 1]

[Next Chapter]

notes: might proofread this before i post this to ao3 but here have the raw milk version (pasteurization is for losers amaright)

series summary: every time you think things cant get any more batshit, hurricane throws another pile of guano at you. every time you think the hole cant get any deeper, you fall further. and you’re not sure what frightens you more: the town itself, or your increasing reluctance to leave.

or: au where mike has that pizza shop for wayyy more than a week and you find yourself a horror protagonist. or at least one’s love interest.

chapter summary: get haunted bitch. now go drive to utah in a manic episode. go meet a nice walking corpse, maybe it'll fix you. or make you worse. probably that second thing lmao

word count: 7985, oh dear (thats with me cutting out some stuff lol)

warnings: uh, swearing, manic behavior, self-harmful thoughts/behavior, mention of hallucinations/hearing voices, shit this is sounding bad, i mean its canon typical violence so idk man no lifeguard on duty

You know how in Source Decay, John Darnielle says / I wish the west Texas highway was a mobius strip / I could ride it out forever / when I feel my heart break? / Well, that guy’s a bitchass snake oil salesman for romanticizing this. Fuck that guy.

Although, this is the first time you’ve ever been able to set a cruise control and actually just leave it at that. What with there being no other cars on the road out here at this hour for you to run into. You even forgot about it at one point.

Little puffs of fire danced in your peripheral vision, like fairies flitting about. It was easy to spot them out in the night air, all those pumpjacks that littered the desert. There was nothing but these small fires, with the tiny, dotted additions of the glowing red eyes of windmills to light up the way for miles.

And you tried not to think about how if you broke down, no one would be around to find you. Every now and then you would startle at the shadowy specter of a tumbleweed crossing your path, but you were acutely aware of just how alone you were out here.

On that train of thought, your gaze fell to the passenger side, to the little bear toy you had buckled into a seatbelt like it was a person.

“Can you believe this, Fredbear?” you asked the inanimate object.

Fredbear did not answer, of course. Would be insane if he did, right?

Hmm …Why did part of you expect him to.

***

The august sun was beating down hot on your back as you walked home that day. It seemed like a lifetime ago, but it was only last week.

The neighborhood was as full of life as it always was. The kids running around in a game of tag, the teens playing basketball, and the adults walking their dogs. You could hear some faint music playing in the distance, most likely from the stage setup in the square downtown, not too far away.

There were many yard sales set up, it being the thing to do on a sunny Saturday afternoon like this. Despite your very strong instincts to rummage through all the boxes in these sales like a raccoon looking for dinner in a dumpster, you were broke, with no money to spare for impulse purchases on random junk. And thus, being a mature adult, you walked right past them.

That is, until a yard full of children’s toys caught your eye. One of your cousins’ kids was turning 6 in a few weeks. Might as well buy presents now before you forget again and have to rush to the store in a panic 8 minutes after the party had already started, sweat rolling down your back as you search the toy isle for something the birthday boy would like, while your phone keeps buzzing in your pocket nonstop because both your cousin is texting and your aunt is calling to ask where you’re at because you were the one who was supposed to be picking up the pizza.

 I mean, just a hypothetical scenario here.

You didn’t really find anything good as you dug through the bins of miscellaneous action figures and toy cars. As you could recall, the kid really liked Iron Man right now. And sharks. Alas, you found no Iron Mans or sharks in those bins.

The other table’s baskets were full of stuffed animals. You could maybe get lucky and find a stuffed shark in there. But stuffed animals are notorious for being hard to clean; and yard sale plushies sometimes come with more than just one new friend. You weren’t about to be the reason your cousin had to fumigate her house for bedbugs. Again. So, you decided to close this case for now and skedaddle on out of there.

You took another look back at the table as you walked away.

Well.. The toys you could see at the top of the bins did look like they were well taken care of… It couldn’t hurt to just look, right?

Yeah no. You found no sharks unfortunately. What you did find, however, was this funky little teddy bear wearing a top hat and bowtie.

A real character, that one. The bright gold fabric of its body made it stand out amongst the other toys. The smile stitched onto the bear gave it a weird, smug look. And you hadn’t seen a plushy with eyebrows before.

That being said, this thing’s aura was so... unsettling. You stared into its black eyes, that seemed to stare right back at you, with a strange feeling twisting in the pit of your stomach.

“You like that one, do ya?”

You almost jumped out of your skin when the old man running the sale spoke to you. You had Not heard him come up beside you like that. Creepy.

“Yeah, it’s…” you tried to think of a positive word, “very intriguing. Looks like it’s ready for a party.”

“My granddaughter called him Fredbear. Found him over in Utah, many years back. In a yard sale, just like this one,” he gently took the bear from you, and looked down at it wistfully, “My granddaughter..  liked how smartly dressed he was. A perfect guest for her tea parties. You were right about that…”

The old man stared at the doll for a little longer after the conversation faded. You felt extremely awkward now. Perhaps you really should have just left without unearthing this obvious sentimental piece.

“My grandchildren are no longer here with me,” you felt a little uncomfortable with how he phrased that, “so, I’ll tell you what. Promise me you’ll take care of him, and he’s yours. Free of charge.”

“Oh, I couldn’t. I’d be happy to pay for him, really,” you felt bad taking free stuff from the elderly.

“No,” he said with a tone of finality, placing the bear firmly into your hands, “the day’s almost over. I’d like to help this old friend move on. It’s time.”

Well that somehow was both sweet and foreboding at the same time.

So, you thanked the old man and started back on your walk home, Fredbear cradled in your arms. He waved goodbye to you. The grandfather, of course, not the teddy bear.

You probably aren’t going to wind up giving this one to your cousin’s son. There was something about it that told you not to. Maybe it was the way the old man talked about it. You felt compelled to take care of the plush yourself. Kind of like an honor thing. Or a pity thing.

It smelled a little funky. But that’s nothing a little TLC couldn’t handle. And some dish soap.

Maybe you were just. Feeling a bit childish lately. Too small and easily broken. Moved to tears by little things that didn’t matter in the grand scheme of things. Disregarded and treated like your fears weren’t real.

Deeply afraid.

Yeah, you’d give Fredbear a nice soak in the sink with a fun dish soap bubble bath. And maybe after that, you’ll both feel a little better.

You were alone in your apartment that night, as your roommate was always gone these days. And when you made your tea, you brought Fredbear a mug as well. A little tea party, for old time’s sake.

Looking back, maybe that was your first mistake.

***

Static rolled from your radio. You gave up on fiddling with it hours ago, but you’ve got nothing better to occupy your mind now.

You turned the knob absentmindedly, never really expecting to get anywhere. Or any signal, that is. A muffled country song here, the broken-up voice of a DJ there, nothing strong enough to stay for more than a few seconds. However, a few seconds of a clear transmission was all you really needed when you rolled past a certain signal.

“zZz-Hurricane—“

Now that was a word that got your attention. Not that you were anywhere near the coast at the moment. You know, unless the person reading this is looking to buy some oceanside property in Arizona. In that case feel free to slide into my DMs.

“zZZ-Peach Days! -Zz celebratio— zzZ-year—peaches peach—-ZzzZ-Heritage-zZ,” you let your gaze flicker downward, towards the dimly lit red text of the frequency number display as if that would provide some more insight.

And then suddenly, the fuzz was completely gone, as if you were near the tower itself,

“So Hurry On To Hurricane City!” the spokesman encouraged cheerfully. You could practically here the giant pageant smile in his voice as he delivered his slogan. This man was your friend, obviously. Then, however, his tone shifted as he closed the ad copy, “Because you know the party can’t start without you…”

You held your breath as the silence dragged out a few agonizing seconds, until “ZZZZZZZZ!!!”, in a jolt, the transmission went completely out. Explosively. You even flinched.

You stayed on the station for a good twenty minutes after that, waiting to see if you could hear anything again. You could feel your heart pound against your ribs until the terrifying feeling faded. There was nothing else but static, of course, and for so long you almost thought you must have imagined it. If not for the way those dull words repeated in your head, over and over.

THE PARTY CAN’T START WITHOUT YOU.

THE PARTY CAN’T START WITHOUT YOU.

THE PARTY CAN’T START WITHOUT YOU.

You hadn’t really had a destination in mind when you took off. No goal other than to get out of there as fast as you could manage. The idea of the West had been bouncing around your brain a lot lately, hence your current trajectory, but you really hadn’t had a clue where you were supposed to be going when you left.

I mean, you still didn’t have a destination. You had no clue what that advertisement was even about. Where they were even fucking talking about. Hurricane City?

Yet, somehow, you knew those words were meant for you. Not anyone else. you. There was a party and the party was waiting for you.

Guess you’d have to look for a map or something in town. Perhaps use the library computer. Man, you would regret throwing your phone into the lake in a fit of passion as you left town, but honestly, this is the longest you’ve known peace in quite some time. Just gonna have to live a little retro for a while. Not the worst thing in the world.

You’ll get a new one later, once you’ve settled in to… wherever you’re going. Whatever new home lies over that horizon for you, you guess.

The sun was breaching the beige skyline of sandy shrub brush as you finally rolled over the state line. You needed to eat. Your stomach growled loudly at just the thought. Funny. You hadn’t even thought about eating in the last.. twenty hours. Which means you should be absolutely shaking right now. Yeah, that’s why you’re shaking. That’s it. You’ll pull into the first diner you see.

You were hoping to at least be in Roswell for breakfast, but there was no way your body was going to be able to keep running if you waited that long. Looks like it’s just going to be the first place you come across.

Hopefully they don’t put green chilis in their pancakes or something.

That sounds insane but it’s an actual thing you’ve seen before in this state, trust. There are no laws nor gods when it comes to Hatch green chilis.

***

Your sleepy brain was not ready for the bell that rang as you walked through the door. Embarrassingly enough, the tinny noise startled you. You almost tripped, to be honest. Thankfully your wobbly Bambi legs held up as you managed to catch yourself.

The hostess wasn’t in sight as you awkwardly stood in the entrance, but there was a whole heap of noise coming from the kitchen.

“Hold on just a second, Sweetpea!” a voice called out to you.

Well, guess you’re holding on a second.

Your eyes scanned the top of the walls, perusing the vast cookie jar collection that the owner had accrued over the years. They were never dusted, despite being on shelves that lined the top of every wall in the tiny shack of a diner, and thus you could easily tell that a few new additions had been made. You know, because those cookie jars were way less filthy.

That’s gotta be a heath-code violation.

After you heard a bit of garbled yelling, the hostess rushed out to take her place in front of you. Smoothing down her polka-dotted apron, she grinned at you.

“Table for two?”

You blinked. It was too early in the morning for fully intelligent speech.

“Uh. No. Just me today. Thank you.”

Her big, bedazzled cat-eyeglasses fell a little farther down her nose as she scrunched her face in confusion, “alright then. Just the one of you today...”

She grabbed a paper menu as she led your shambling body to a table near the window. Which was shut away with ancient looking vinyl blinds that you were too afraid to open, lest they crumble and the cost of replacing them be put on your on tab.

She had already disappeared back into the kitchen by the time you got yourself in a seat. You glanced around the room. You weren’t the only patron here, as a few tables held a few bodies, but you were the only one without your face buried in a newspaper. And to be expected honestly, you were the youngest person in the room at seven in the morning.

The hostess, who was also the only waitress in this tiny local business, placed two glasses in front of you. The dull sound they made hitting the table drew you out of your revelry. There before you were two cups, a steaming mug of fresh coffee and a short glass of milk. You looked up in confusion.

“Don’t worry, it’s whole milk. Builds strong bones.”

That... wasn’t your concern.

You looked back at the cup in confusion and by the time you turned back, she had already moved on to the next table, refilling mugs and having loud banter with the other customers. Her regulars, by the sound of it. You felt too apathetic to try and call her over again.

You shrugged, to no one in particular, as you did not have a breakfast partner with you, despite the waitress’s insistence otherwise. Wait, was she mocking you? Eh, maybe it’s just supposed to be for the coffee. Nevertheless, you would not be drinking the milk, so you just left it there.

Despite the prevalence of the local newspaper in the room, there wasn’t a dispenser or anything at the front of the restaurant, like there usually is. As you drummed your fingers on the tablecloth, bored out of your mind, you kinda regretted throwing your phone in the lake a bit more. Maybe not the best of moves.

But hey, at least you aren’t constantly quelling the incessant buzzing you’d be hearing if you’d kept it.

You busied yourself stirring your coffee while you looked over the menu again, just for something to read. Of course, you were ordering a waffle. Because this was a diner, and, yeah, you do like waffles. And pancakes. And French toast. Doodoodoodoo can’t wait to get a mouthful.

That voice kept echoing in your mind. The party can’t start without you.

“More coffee, Babycakes?” the waitress snapped you out of your thoughts.

“Oh! Yeah, thank you,” you moved the mug to the edge of the table, closer to her, “Say… I know this is an out-of-pocket question, but have you heard anything about Hurricane City? Maybe something about peaches?”

“Oh!” she snapped her fingers, “You mean the Peach Days. It’s a little heritage festival they put on every summer in Hurricane, you know. It’s a hoot, my family makes a trip out there every few years or so for it. Not this time of course, clearly, since I’m here talkin’ to you and not in Utah—”

“In Utah?”

Of course, it was Fucking Utah again.

“I know it’s soundin’ far, but it’s only ‘bout a day’s drive from here. Two days if y’ain’t crazy about following an itinerary like my husband,” she brushed a hand over her apron before you lost her attention to the other customers, “I swear that man would plan out a schedule for every second of the day if he could…”

After she wandered off to go top off more mugs, you lamented the fact that you still hadn’t ordered yet. That’s what you get for being nosy about peach festivals, you suppose.

Thankfully though, soon enough you had your hearty breakfast and were back in front of the wheel, on your way to the friendly neighborhood Walmart. Where hopefully no cops or employees would bother you as you crashed in the parking lot.

You took Fredbear to the backseat with you for good luck. Maybe it was the gold color, or the fancy getup he had. Maybe you just needed a cuddle buddy to not feel so alone in this parking lot swarming with people.

Much to your disdain, it was now a bit into the morning hours, and the sun was fully up.

You had tried to find as shady a spot as possible, but it’s not exactly like trees grow in this biome. At least not naturally. Windbreak tree lines were definitely a thing, but those protected buildings people cared about, and this was a Walmart. Nothing around here but concrete, rocks spray painted blue, and cigarette butts.

So after tossing and turning in the bright blinding sunshine for way longer than you should have, and making promises to higher deities was proven to be unfruitful in your attempt to find some semblance of peace, you finally just had to admit defeat. And here by rescinding any aforementioned promises to higher powers.

You laid Fredbear back down on the seat and tucked him in with the blanket when you got back up. At least one of you could be cozy and well rested. Unfortunately, it wasn’t going to be you, however.

Well, it’s far from the first all-nighter you’ve pulled without having time to take a nap during the following day. Sleep deprivation isn’t real, silly. Teachers just made that up to scare you. It’ll be fine.

***

You know you never really realize how much we structure our lives around other humans until you take a drive through the middle of nowhere. How essential it is to have enough gas to make it to the next town. From town to town, your life becomes segments. Only within the eyesight of other humans are you ever safe. Only within the bounds of the settlement can your soul be settled.

Gas stations become oases. Which is the plural of oasis, apparently. Anyway, you start seeing them like mirages. Dingey, weather-worn gas pumps become as good as a sparkling illusion of precious water in the Sahara. The empty shells of buildings you passed by, long since forgotten, became like mausoleums in these graveyard towns. Villages. Hamlets. Mostly hamlets.

“Are we there yet?” a small and very annoyed voice called out.

You had just written it off as your imagination until you heard the noise of shuffling fabric. Normally your audio hallucinations aren’t that detailed. Paralyzed, you held your breath, not daring to make any noise that would distract your ears from hearing whoever, whatever, was in the back seat. Your mind went to stories of skinwalkers and misshapen monsters and hitch-hiking serial killers.

“… Are we there yet?” the voice repeated, admittedly sounding even smaller to you now.

Yep, that’s a real person alright. Or a real thing. Your eyes were probably bloodshot from the way you haven’t blinked this entire time, just staring straight ahead on the desert highway. Taking a deep, shaky breath to steady yourself, you turned down the rear-view mirror…

Christ almighty. You had a stowaway.

Your stomach turned immediately. God, come on now, don’t puke up what little you had on your stomach. You need that.

“Hey Buddy,” you tried to sound as friendly as you could, “What’s your name?”

Clad in a little striped shirt and cargo shorts, he started kicking his feet in impatience, which would be cute if it weren’t for this situation y’all are in, and the adrenaline pumping through your veins, “We’ve been in here forever,” he whined.

If this was a skinwalker, he was a pretty darn adorable one. And definitely not a hitch-hiking serial killer. At least you hoped. But no, this was a greater form of terror: responsibility.

“Haha, yeah, we have been in here really long, haven’t we? How long do you think we’ve been driving, can you tell me?”

When did you pick up this child. When you got gas in Gallup? Albuquerque? Dear lord, if he’s been in here since Roswell, you’re about to have the world’s biggest headache on your hands, both metaphorically and physically. But there’s no way he’s been in here for fucking 10 hours, right? right??

Okay, okay. Maybe you’re just a little panicky right now and not thinking straight. Maybe teachers hadn’t been making up sleep deprivation just to scare you after all. You have been purposely not drinking anything for the lack of available restrooms. People get dehydration hallucinations, right?

The boy just stared at you, blankly. Probably fully realizing you were a stranger and not whoever he thought you were. In lieu of answering you, he started fidgeting more with the toy bear you had had in the back. You really hoped that hadn’t been what lured him into your station wagon in the first place.

Don’t be getting shy on me now, kid.

You put your blinker on, ready to merge off the road and onto an incoming rest-stop that you thanked your lucky stars for.

“Honey, can you tell me what your phone number is?”

He looked up at you, finally tearing his attention from the bear, and you could see gears turning in his head.

“…435-555-1987?”

You repeated it back to him, and he nodded. Alright, time to find that payphone.

Said rest-stop payphone was thankfully near a picnic table so you could sit him down and be able to watch him carefully the whole time you made this call. Because judging by the fact this situation was happening at all, he was a slippery one.

You got out of the car and opened the back door, but he was hesitant to get out. Which, fair, you are a stranger trying to get him to a second location.

“What’s up, Bud?” you tried your hardest to not sound like a predator but boy was that a real nebulous idea, wasn’t it?

“Fredbear wants to come too,” he mutters.

“Well, sure then, let’s bring him, we’ll have a little picnic.” With no food, but hey, whatever lie it takes to get him sitting on that bench.

It was really cute the way the kid set the bear down on the table and positioned it like they were going to have a picnic together. When you find this kid’s parents, you’ll let him keep Fredbear. Toys like it when they’re given to new children, right? Wasn’t there a movie about that or something. Wincing at the grubbiness of the payphone, you reluctantly dialed the number.

“Hello, Jeff’s Pizza on Main St, are you ready to order?”

You closed your eyes, counting the seconds as you breathed in for 4 seconds, held it for 7, and released for 8.

“Hello? Are you there?”

“Yes!” you practically shouted into the receiver. So much for calming down, “please don’t hang up,” you pleaded.

“Listen, we don’t take solicitation,”

“No, uh, sorry. I’ve found a lost child who told me this was his number. Is the owner of this restaurant by chance frantically looking for their son?”

You heard some muffled conversation happening behind the phone, “Well, no, I don’t even have any kids… and I uh, am currently understaffed. Im the only one here.”

you cursed under your breath.

“Uh, alright, well…” you could tell this was getting really awkward for him.

“Could you tell me where y’all are, I’m unfamiliar with the area code,”

“Uh, Hurricane, Utah?”

… If you weren’t on the phone, you fucking swear you’d be screeching at the top of your lungs like a chimpanzee right now.

“Thank you, you know, just in case he’s just remembering an advertisement he’s seen or something,”

“Oh, okay,” there was a pause, “well I hope you find the parents or, whoever,”

“Thank you,” you’ll put him out of his misery and hang up.

“Are you sure that’s your number, Hon?”

“Uh-huh,”

“Why don’t you tell me it again, maybe I dialed it wrong,”

“435-5--” his face scrunched up in concentration, “435-555—I don’t know…”

You tried not to look visibly stressed at this answer.

“Do you know where you live?”

He moved the bears paws along with whatever little game he was playing, before looking up at you, head tilted in confusion, “Hurricane?”

Okay. Police time. If not for him, for you. The skinwalker possibility just went back up. Because, honestly, he had to have gotten in your car as a coyote or something. No way you wouldn’t’ve noticed a whole ass child entering your car.

“How does ice cream sound, huh Buddy?”

“I want ice cream!” he said hastily as if you’d change your mind if he hesitated.

“Ice cream it is then, but only if you’re good for me and the officers, okay? And tell them everything you can remember. You’re smart, right?”

“Uh-huh,”

“Great,” you smiled over clenched teeth.

After herding him back into the car, you had to take a moment to gently rest your head into the steering wheel. And it took everything within you to not smash said head into it. Or scream in agony. No, no, we mustn’t scare the child.

Tuba City wasn’t too far away. The police station was downtown, as most are. Luckily, across the street there was a paleteria with a courtyard area. The little guy got very excited when you got pulled into the parking space, so eh, what the hell, ice cream first. Maybe after a treat and some playtime in the courtyard he won’t be as wiggly and will be able to tell the cops what he knows about just where the hell he came from.

The noise of the bell chiming made you flinch as you two walked into the paleteria. You hadn’t thought you were that tightly wound right now but apparently you were wrong. The lady behind the counter greeted you warmly, and you responded in turn, trying to play it cool.

God, imagine if she got an off-vibe from you and the kid and called over the police from across the street before you even have a chance—

Deep breath. Okay. The kid you had started referring to in your head as just “Little Boy” was leaned against the display case, his breath fogging up the glass in front of him and probably leaving little handprints for the shopkeeper to clean later.

“I’m sorry about that,”

“That’s… Okay. What can I get you?” she seemed a little confused. Strange, but you brushed past it just as quickly as she did.

“Ah, what do we want?” you asked Little Boy.

He excitedly tugged on your pantleg and pointed to the popsicle he wanted, looking up at you with puppy dog eyes. He doesn’t need to convince you, but you quickly realized you were not going to be able to say no to any else after this if he deployed the same cute begging look.

“One of those cute little Tweety Bird faces,” you pointed.

“Anything else?” she handed you the popsicle and you gingerly took it.

“Nah, that’s it” you were too nauseous to eat right now.

You paid, throwing the change into the tip jar, and turned to give Little Boy the popsicle she handed you.  The words caught in your throat as you looked down to find your pantleg absent of any tugging by any Little Boy. You quickly scanned the tiny paleteria. He was nowhere to be found, anywhere in the room.

“Uh, did you see where the kid went?” you tried not to sound too panicked.

She was taken aback, also quickly looking around the room to find no one, before shaking her head, “Did you have a kid with you?”

You furiously nodded in confusion,

“I’m sorry, then I didn’t see them,” she pointed to the glass door that led to the courtyard only a few feet away from y’all, “Try outside, maybe?”

You burst outside, searching the area in a panic, but you couldn’t see him anywhere. Not hidden in the tangle of the garden, not splashing around in the fountain, not at, under, on top of, or around any of the tables.

You went to call his name, but your voice caught in your throat when you realized you didn’t have a name to call. And.

And.

Something hit your shirt. A water droplet. You looked up into the clear, blinding blue sky. Your nerves tickled as another droplet ran down your cheek. Oh, you were crying. Huh.

You took the closet seat you could find, counting the things processed by your 5 senses. It’s all you could do to not start bawling for no reason. Maybe you’ll calm down and be able to think straight soon.

Why can’t you think straight? Everything feels so fuzzy.

You should be terrified, and in a way, you were. In your heart of hearts, you knew the truth: Little Boy wasn’t real. Or at least turned back into a coyote and ran off.

As you stared vacantly into the open air, you realized you still had a dripping popsicle in your hands. Supposedly “Tweety Bird” shaped, it just looked like a yellow skull missing its mandible bone to you. How fitting.

You pulled it to your mouth. Yum. Tasted like AAAAAAAA. Or orange, according to the package.

Attempting to lick the melted yellow liquid off of your hand, you accidentally stuck the ice pop on your face. Great. Now you’re sticky all over.

God, you’ve really gone and lost your fucking marbles this time, haven’t you.

There was a bulletin kiosk a few feet down your field of vision. On that bulletin kiosk was an old poster, barely visible as it was buried under layers of other flyers. It caught your eye and seemed to burn your retinas. What little you could see was the word Freddy and part of what looked like a version of the bear you’d been toting around this whole little expedition, but that was enough.

Something clicked. You looked down at the bear hanging by your side in your other hand. The kid had shoved it into your arms so he could more easily lean on the display case, right before he disappeared the very moment you took your eyes off of him.

You know, you hadn’t really felt alone since bringing Fredbear home. And not in a good way.

Guess the name you should’ve been calling was Freddy.

You had to get rid of that bear.

***

You had been walking home like you always did, same route. But you noticed something peculiar about this time. The house that the old man had his yard sale in was now stripped of all decoration, with a For Sale sign proudly standing in the grass. No cars, and no blinds or curtains on the windows, so you could see into the den which was now devoid of any furniture.

You’ll admit it, you crept around to the other windows, searching for any signs of life at all in the empty rooms. None. No furniture, no people, no trash. The yard sale was yesterday. How did they clean this place out so thoroughly in the short amount of time between when you’d seen it last and now.

A little confuddled, you went home as usual. While strange as hell, this wasn’t a missing person’s case or anything. And it’s probably why the man was so adamant on giving you Fredbear because it was the end of the day. He had a deadline. He was skipping town.

God, you wished you could just skip town.

You frankly thought nothing of it when you unlocked the door to your apartment to see Fredbear was already seated on the couch, like he was all set to marathon whatever 30-year-old cartoon you wound up watching that night. And it’s not like your roommate hadn’t done something like this before, move a stuffed animal or action figure into a funny position for you to find later.

You hadn’t seen him much lately. Or like, at all. The only reason you knew he was still alive were the dirty dishes in the sink, dirty clothes on the floor of the bathroom, and the aforementioned moving the bear around.

Looking back now, was he moving the bear around?

If you locked the deadbolt that can’t be unlocked from the outside, you’d be guaranteed to catch him in person for once. But you weren’t willing to go through the trouble and emotional toil of doing that, however.

In the name of feeling less like a ghost haunting your own home, getting yelled at for intentionally locking your roommate out might be a wee bit counterproductive. Sure, you’d be seen and spoken to, but the harshness of his words and tone would send you into a worse episode than you were already in.

Well, at least Fredbear seemed ready to keep you company tonight...

The fact that they put unskippable advertisements on streaming services you’re paying for in the first place is criminal. Or at least regular cable tv in a trenchcoat.

You got a drink while they prattled on about luxury cars you couldn’t afford and real estate companies you weren’t going to have the privilege of patroning any time soon. Embarrassingly, as you poured the pitcher of water into a glass, you got a little distracted.

The cheap glass’s glass was only about a millimeter or two thick. You could easily just crush this cup in your hand, in one swift movement. The muscles of your arm began tensing up at the thought.

But thankfully, a loud, blaring advertisement coming from the TV snapped you out of it. And so, you promptly decided to Not Do That, because picking all of those tiny glass shards out of your flesh would be a bitch. And that was not how you wanted to spend a perfectly good Sunday night. And of course you didn’t need the questions at work tomorrow.

You returned to the couch, curiously, and you swear, that damn teddy bear followed you with its eyes. Even though they were a shiny, solid black, and the idea itself would be insane.

As you settled back down, you grabbed the remote to turn down the volume of the cheery music playing. Mysteriously, it wasn’t just a commercial with bad sound mixing, the TV itself had been turned up. Now that it had your attention, the thing that was being sold to you seemed to the state of Utah. You know, those Visit [X] ads that were commonly played between cooking shows and ghost hunting documentaries.

“Oh hey, you’re from there, right?” you poked at fredbear. And immediately felt pathetic. God, you’ve got to stop talking to inanimate objects and like get a boyfriend or something. Geez.

The imagery on the screen was just, you know, normal southwest stock footage:

A drone shot of Zion national park

Old men golfing

Owls living in holes they’ve dug into cactuses

Rock archways

A family laughing as they shared a pizza being served to them by a man in a bear suit that looked just fredbear,

“Oh, well there you are, I guess.” you once again absent-mindedly spoke to your toy friend.

Kids swimming in a fancy resort pool

A Navajo cultural event

More rock archways and red sandstone cliffs

Kids crowding around a claw machine filled with toys just like the one sitting next to you

Kids crowding around a stage as an animatronic band played

Kids crowding around a birthday cake, the light of candles bouncing off their faces as they sang along…

The fake sounding voice of the announcer rung out, “Visit Utah! You know the party can’t start without you!”

Your mouth felt dry. Good thing you now had that glass of water.

***

Of course, you did what any smart, sane person would do and feverishly ripped through the layers of old flyers to get to the advertisement for what you now knew was Freddy Fazbear’s Pizza Place. A themed diner and nickel arcade that made most of their money hosting birthday parties, by the looks of it. You knew the type; you had been an American child once too.

Good thing none of the cops were hanging around outside to fine you for littering, because the amount of paper you just released into the breeze was in fact criminal.

There was a short list of locations at the bottom of the poster. They had a few scattered over Utah, or at least they used to, judging by the harsh weathering of this poster. The closest one being in Bigwater, explaining why this poster was out here in Tuba. But the word Hurricane stood out to you like it was lit up in neon. It burned like sunlight.

It appears you are in fact on your way to Hurricane, Utah. As if you didn’t know that already at this point, you being out on the canyon rim instead of your much preferred and beloved Rockies. Well, congratulations bitch. You’ve only got another three hours to go. Better get going. Have fun!

***

Oh, this place was creepy as hell. Or it’s just late at night, and you’re sleep deprived and paranoid. In the spirit of being honest to yourself, ‘sleep deprived and paranoid’ has always been your natural state of being, but right now it’s definitely ramped up to an eleven.

But even though it’s been close to 48 hours since your last brain-reset, this place still had a certain energy about it. Like New Orleans, or the woods around lynching bridges did. That spooky oh I am Not Safe here type of energy.

The gas station-man gave you a real weird look when you stormed in and asked where the Freddy Fazbear’s Pizza Place was. Normally you would’ve chalked it up to you being a clear foreigner asking for directions as if it’s 1995, to a children’s arcade close to midnight nonetheless, but now you weren’t so sure.

You eyed the fridge full of wine in pint sized bottles and little juice cartons. But nah, you probably needed to have a quick reaction time to whatever was waiting for you in this Venus flytrap you’re willingly walking into. You grabbed a Monster instead and you know what, yeah, that probably wasn’t the best decision either. If you weren’t high strung before, you definitely were now. You felt like you could punch a bear. A Freddy Fazbear.

You bought a local map alongside the energy drink, feeling like you were gonna need it. Man, low-tech was actually kinda annoying after a while. You got the gas station-man to begrudgingly mark Fazbear’s down onto it for you. Apparently, it and all other locations within town had closed down some twenty years ago. Not many people are still around who remember why, he said, but it had something to do with the faulty animatronics. Teenagers told ghost stories and dared each other to spend the whole night in the dining room. But otherwise, beyond the rumors, the original Freddy Fazbear’s Pizza Place was just an empty, scorched building. And the other various locations like Jr’s or Circus Baby’s had been sold off, passing so many hands who knows what businesses were in there now. But you could still kinda tell, if you paid attention, in the same way you can tell if something used to be a Pizza Hut.

What you really wanted, according to gas station-man, whose nametag read Gary, was this new location that was opening soon, simply named Freddy’s Pizzeria. It’s set to open for business in September, so you’re lucky. He marked it one your map as well.

You don’t know why Gary was so nice to you. Maybe it was the harrowed look in your eyes. Maybe it was the twitchiness. Maybe Gary is just very bored of this tourist town and was looking to fall madly in love with a random troubled soul he met at midnight in a gas station and would wind up running away with to some far-off place. If that was the case, sorry Gary. You were too busy with the metaphorical torture labyrinth to care about romance at the moment.

You couldn’t decide if the haunted Fredbear would want to see an old location or the new one. You asked, but of course the fucker didn’t answer. Just sat there with his smug grin and glassy eyes that followed your hand movements. So, you quite literally tossed a coin. A new mint, the face side had Eleanor Roosevelt on it. And she marked the fact that you were going to try the new location first, and then try the original building next. Cool.

***

Your patience was kinda at its limit here, you’ll admit. You really should get some sleep soon. Or eat. Since you were hellbent on getting here and nothing else, the only thing on your stomach besides that wretched Tweety Bird popsicle is half a monster energy. Guess you’ll go by a fucking Denny’s after this. If you survive.

If you were going to die horrifically, you’d really rather the forces that be make it snappy. This was getting ridiculous.

You pulled into the parking lot. The building clearly wasn’t new but had been freshly painted. Nothing creepy so far. As you stared down the building, sizing it up, you noticed there was one car parked in the front, and a few of the windows were lit up.

Cool, so there was someone in there. Great. That makes, well whatever this is, much harder.

The door was locked.

You could hear music playing from inside. You banged on the door as loudly as you could manage, and it still took a couple of minutes before the music stopped. And then a very disgruntled man in coveralls was in the doorway, tiredly asking just what the fuck you wanted at this time of night.

He smiled to cover up his rudeness, but the smile stretched a little too wide, inhumanly wide, and a shiver ran down your spine.

You took him in, unashamedly raking your eyes over his form. He stood awkwardly, as if ready to bolt at any moment. What you could see of his build made him out to be weirdly skinny. That unnaturally wide smile gave way to some exposed teeth on the left side of his face. His eyes were shadowed by his bangs in the backlight of the door, but you swore they almost glowed themselves. His complexion was greyish and bordered on almost purple in this lighting.

Despite all this, he was still pretty handsome. Well, you did always think some of those creepypasta guys were boyfriend material. Maybe, you wouldn’t mind getting chopped up into little pieces if this guy was the one doing it. Okay, and maybe you’ve been sleeplessly chasing ghosts too long.

Startling you, he reached his hand to grab your shoulder, a little too fast.

“Hey mate, are you okay?” He asked nervously,

It snapped you out of your stupor, realizing you had yet to say a word to him, “Uh, yes, I just wanted to…”

How do you even fucking ask this. “Hey, can I bring a stuffed bear to your dining room so maybe it’s spirit will leave me alone? Maybe conduct a séance or something?” Seriously, did you even know what you were doing here? Shit. Okay.

“I wanted to ask if I could check out your facility?” came out like a question because even you had no clue what you were saying.

“Come back tomorrow in the daylight, then,” he began closing the door, shaking his head in annoyance, “or perhaps when we’re actually open.”

“NO!” you slammed your foot into the door as he closed it, “AAGH!”

“Jesus Christ! WHY.”

Dear lord, this man now 100% thinks you’re a crackhead.

“Just, don’t close that door, okay,” his brows scrunched together as you grit your teeth to swallow down the pain, “I need you to help me.”

“I really don’t have any money to spar--”

“I’M HERE BECAUSE OF A GHOST,” you interrupted. Finally, you managed to get that out somehow, if nonsensical.

A look of recognition flickered in his glowing eyes. He lowered into your space, kind of intimidatingly. Or intimately. Yeah, no, this was hostile, don’t fool yourself.

“What kind of ghost,” he asked suspiciously.

“Uh,” shit, okay, “the weird, haunted doll kind? Uh, like the ones the McElroy brothers are always bidding on on eBay. Or maybe this is kind of a Ben Drowned kinda situation, I’m not completely sure.”

He blinked, “okay, I only understood a few of those words, but—”

“It’s a Freddy teddy bear that really wanted me to take it to Hurricane, okay?” You really were at the end of your rope at the moment, “I have literally driven here for days straight on no sleep and barely any food and I need this Unauthorized Fucking Thing to find it’s eternal peace or kill me in some horrible way so I can hurry up and get on with my goddamn life,”

“Uh, see… the thing is,” he started to retreat back again, slowly moving his hands like he was trying to calm down a spooked animal.

 You realized what was about to happen, and it must have been visible in your eyes, since his huge unnatural placating smile returned,

“I actually don’t want anything to do with that, sooo…”

“PLEASE—” you reached out in blind panic, but he dodged it. (now if only you could’ve dodged the scooper like that Mikey)

The door slammed in your face.

Your breathing was ragged and fogged up the glass as he locked it again. You stared up at those glowing pinprick pupils of his as he gave you an apologetic little wave goodbye. And then he fucking made a big show of pointing at the closed sign before turning tail to disappear back into the darkness of the empty restaurant.

Okay.

Just a little setback. You’ll go to the older location first, now, and come back when this asshole is sleeping. Can’t be too hard to bust out one of those windows, and you doubt he has an alarm set up already. It’s his fault, really. If he didn’t want property damage, then he should’ve just let you in. Not like you haven’t warned him that you were desperate or anything.

Just gonna go to the other location. You’ve got your map, you’ve got a tank full of gas, and you’ve got chutzpah.

Now what you don’t have? Is a car that will start.

[friendlylocalwhumper]

“Yes.” | “Kneel.” | Best of Three | Correspondence | Appraisal | Collapse | Cupcake | Foggy | Cracking | Just Breathe | Urge | Trim | Stupid | Upkeep | Old Defeat | Watching | Simple Loyalty | Overreaction | Set Up for Failure | Burning | Healed Wrong | Haunted | Boxes Buried | Heavy Blow | Loneliness

This, uh… owner? Isn’t all that bad. Could be a whole lot worse.

The hand sliding down his back isn’t welcome, but Major doesn’t fight it. He knows better. He knows better.

Shoulders angled down toward the floor an inch below them, dejected gray eyes locked onto a piece of dust just out of focus on the carpet, Major keeps from shaking off the touch. It’s not as creepy as it could be. Just seems to be, like… feeling along his spine as if checking for bruising on the piece of fruit he’s considering at the supermarket. Or checking out the ridges and valleys of his scars, but there’s no lingering fondles across the thick burn-ruined skin.

The smell of the guy’s breath hits him before the sound of his voice. Major holds his ground, only shifting to press his forehead to the floor as he listens. “I paid for one that leans into it. I won’t be all that hands-on, but still. I did pay for it.”

If he was in his right mind, Major would buck against that. Try to break the guy’s nose, maybe beat him for a while before killing him. But the warning, as polite as it might’ve been, hits like ice to his teeth. The training, with the gun and the consequences a split-second after each test… Major barely survived. He isn’t gonna fuck it up now. Especially not when he’s alone, bent down over his own knees, in some guy’s house.

The hand comes in for another swipe down his back, and this time Major arches up against it. Just slightly. It might not have been enough, he might be fucking up, there could be a gun held above his head where he can’t see it but he’ll hear the click of it, and… oh. He’s rewarded as if he was an eager purring cat, by an approving hum from above.

Disgust rises as goosebumps across his skin. But Major sinks down and feels his heartbeat thrumming in his temple after the terror of nearly disappointing the guy who… custom ordered a pissy, stubborn prisoner freshly trained to obey.

His mind goes blank, suddenly, when the guy ruffles his hair. Major doesn’t even fully register the condescending gesture, just lets his head be rocked back and forth with the rough petting to fried hair.

The voice, airy in a weird way, comes from higher above than Major was expecting. Thought the buyer would be leaning down close, but he’s up on one knee to rise, maybe. “Come on. Since you’re doing good enough. Got something to show you.”

The guy’s walking, and Major isn’t sure what to do. He’s scrambling up to follow, but a fog of stress locks his knees so he can’t stand. Is he… fuck, allowed to stand? To walk? Frozen by worry but spurred on by the fear of falling behind and breaking some unspoken rule, Major lurches forward on his hands and knees. No more goosebumps, no self-loathing curled tight in his stomach. The room feels cold when he goes numb and compliant.

The guy slows to a stop. When he turns to stare down at Major in bewilderment, it’s the first time Major sees him in full. He’s not… big. Slick black hair buzzed down on the sides and in the back. Tattoos across his face in swirling font that Major can’t read, a piercing in his nose. Which all would look tough, except there’s no real muscle on him, and even if there was it would be hard to see because the guy’s in a big sweater with a dress shirt poking out from under the sleeves and neckline.

Major swallows, trying to decide if the guy looks tough, or weak, or cool or lame. He’s distracted by a judgy scoff that sets his jaw clenching.

“What are you doing?” It’s not as mean as it could be, not cutting. Just too amused. “Crap, I didn’t think they were giving me one that thinks it’s a dog. Just walk.”

The words sting, through the numb distance he’d built up, and it’s more frustrating than it is humiliating. Major shoves himself upward and sways onto his feet, blinking against the odd waves of adrenaline and exhaustion.

“Just walk, we’re not… oh fu-... frick.” The buyer doubles back, hands raised and hurried. Major flinches back, eyes widening against the black fuzz swallowing his vision. He falls rapidly sideways, or upward, maybe… the world is spinning and he can’t figure out which way is down. He’ll be killed. He’s getting grabbed, fingers digging into his arms, he’s gonna die!

The room goes black, as pain erupts in his skull, and all sensations fade away.

[teecupangel]

For your consideration: mongoose!Desmond. They're small, cute, stealthy, and fully down to throw hands qiwth a lion if need be. Hides in the hood of whichever Assassin he's accompanying at the time and jump out for attack at the most unexpected moment. Alternatively, Altair gets reincarnated in modern time as Desmond's mongoose, and just takes down the whole Abstergo facility when they dare to kidnap Desmond.

It was illegal to keep a mongoose as a pet in the United States.

That was one of the few laws that Desmond knew he was deliberately breaking.

It wasn’t like he had planned to do it from the start.

It had been a strangely freezing morning. Desmond was walking back to his apartment after a grueling 2 hours overtime that he was sure his boss wouldn’t include in his paycheck, citing some shit like “it’s because you’re too damn pretty that those drunks tried to beat each other up for your ass, Derek.” and tell him that it’s only right that he be the one to clean up the mess those two had done after hearing last call.

If he didn’t knew that his boss had the sex drive of a corpse and liked the company of dogs more than people, he would have considered his words as sexual harassment instead of the usual way his boss spoke.

But Desmond knew him long enough and has already made plans to be 2 hours late for his next shift. He’s going to tell his boss that “you don’t need to pay me for my 2 hours overtime since I deducted it from this shift” and his boss wouldn’t have the grounds to dock his pay.

Yes.

It was the ‘perfect’ revenge for his stingy rude boss.

Desmond had just rounded the corner that would lead to the back of his apartment, preferring to enter through the back than the front due to both the stairs being nearer there and also because the back door was less conspicuous.

Years away from the Farm and he still held the paranoia trained into him.

God, he was pathetic.

At that moment, Desmond looked up as he sighed.

And got smacked by some kind of falling fur.

He named the mongoose Altaïr.

To be more exact… the mongoose named himself, using the letter magnets Desmond placed on his small ref. There was only one ‘A’ so the mongoose had to drag the ‘A’ at the start of the name to the empty space between T and I repeatedly. He even went as far as use the ‘:’ magnet to form those two dots above the ‘I’.

Desmond had to look up on his phone how to properly pronounce his name.

Desmond had never had a pet nor did he even know that Altaïr was a mongoose.

He had assumed that Altaïr was some kind of really intelligent pet that someone in his apartment stole from some rich family or something. (No one in this apartment complex would have the money to buy an intelligent pet like Altaïr)

He tried to ask Altaïr who his masters are or if we can remember where he was taken from.

The bland unimpressed look Altaïr gave him made Desmond realize two things:

(1) he was being stupid asking a complicated question to Altaïr regardless of how smart he was and

(2) Altaïr was an asshole

That was fine by Desmond to be perfectly honest.

Altaïr stayed in his apartment and did his own hunting for food. He seemed to only slip inside the small opening on the window that Desmond purposely left for him whenever he wanted to relax or… use Desmond’s computer.

… not that Desmond saw Altaïr use it.

He just had a feeling that Altaïr was using his old wheezing whenever it was turned on laptop that he got for cheap from his bootlegged DVD dealer at the back of the nearest Seven Eleven from his apartment.

Desmond could probably check if Altaïr was truly using it by checking the browser history or something but…

Ignorance was bliss.

Desmond really didn’t want to find out just how scarily smart Altaïr was and suffer the consequences.

So really…

When the power was cut in the Abstergo facility where he was being held, he didn’t immediately think of Altaïr.

Honestly, he had this weird feeling that his ‘roommate’ Altaïr might be his ancestor Altaïr but that was crazy talk.

So he ignored that gut feeling.

Then Vidic got a call from someone who told him that someone had locked down the security room AND all the exits.

Then everything went silent.

He was still strapped in the Animus. He didn’t even know that the Animus had cuffs that could slide around his wrists and ankles (and fucking neck, what the fuck, Vidic) until Vidic pushed something in the Animus itself the moment the blackout happened and Desmond was still groggy from being forcibly kicked out of the Animus.

He heard Lucy whisper that someone was using the emergency sleeping gas and it was spreading throughout the facility.

Desmond was just going “???” because who the fuck added sleeping gas in their goddamn building as an ‘emergency’???

Then…

The laptop on Vidic’s station started making this beeping sound and Vidic walked towards it.

He had a moment to say that someone had taken over their computers (Desmond thought they were having a blackout??? What the ever living fuck was happening???) before the computer exploded and the shards from his monitor hit Vidic on the face and neck.

Desmond wasn’t sure if it was life threatening or not but Lucy was panicking as she rushed towards him.

And Desmond heard the soft sound of something creaking. He looked at where the sound came from and noticed the vent on the floor was now open.

And Altaïr the freakishly intelligent mongoose quietly scampered towards the Animus, looking over Desmond for a moment before scuttling towards the section of the Animus where-

The cuffs keeping Desmond still slid off and Desmond sat up.

They both stared at each other.

And Desmond finally sighed as he admitted, “Okay… you’re no ordinary animal, are you?”

Altaïr gave him the same bland unimpressed expression he had given him all those years ago.

And Desmond realized that it looked exactly how his ancestor would look whenever he heard something stupid from one of the novices.

Well…

Shit.

[wawamouse]

Oz Rewatch 3: S5E04: Next Stop Valhalla

Storylines

Jaime tries to kill Guerra and is killed instead; Miguel feels guilty; Alicia Hinden comes to Oz with the dog training program; Augustus, Penders, and Miguel are selected

Miss Sally’s Schoolyard to become Sallycise; Brass confirms to Rebadow he bought the lottery ticket; Martinez hits Brass with a shit cocktail; Gloria tries to get Martinez put in the hospital and then beats him up when he keeps touching her face

Beecher and Schillinger fight during an interaction session; Schillinger antagonises Schibetta;

Peter Marie visits Keller; McClain visits Keller

Winthrop and Guenzel arrive at Oz; Guenzel is taken under Beecher’s wing while Winthrop becomes a prag for the Aryans in Unit B

Frank Urbano arrives at Oz; Beecher asks Pancamo for the Italians help in protecting Guenzel; the Aryans and Italians get into a fight

Gloria tells Ryan he has to tell his mother about his crimes; Ryan breakdances instead; Shupe tells O’Reily that Li going to rape his mom; Ryan and Cyril kill Li

Augustus continues to grieve his mother and ends up breaking his sobriety

Omar annoys Emerald City and Said with his singing, McManus gives him a supply closet to practice in; Redding demands Omar use it to sell drugs; Lalar and Arif complain to Said that he’s neglecting his role as leader; Robson tortures and kills Lalar

Sister: That’s why they gotta stop announcing everything they do in this show, like...

Sister: I feel like [Norma’s] just dead at this point.

Sister: I feel like they’re leading up to him being like a mass shooter or something. Me: You think he’s gonna snap? Sister: He seems like the type...

Sister: …I think being free would making him happy. I mean, [Toby] had that whole vision about being free that did not include [Chris], so I think he’ll be fine.

Sister: You can just tell them anything and they’ll let you through…

Sister: What’s wrong with this guy? What’s he in for? Me: Hate crimes… Murder, officially, I think. Sister: Hate crime? What’s he sniffing people for? Me: He's just a perv...

Sister: …That’s so gross… In my sickened state*, I can’t even summon a bleugh. Me: [Retching noise] Sister: Thanks. (*We got some booster shots yesterday and Sister always gets sick afterward lol)

Sister: When are they going to address that guy whose wife also died? Me: Never. Sister: So why did they introduce her?! To spout off some facts and get shushed by the priest?? Me: Maybe there was originally supposed to be more of a story to it and it go cut. Sister: No, they just wanted to do their little after school special moment and then not deal with it. You know, if any of the Muslims should be having the issues in these episodes, it should be the other guy (Arif), not Mr. Said... Me: They could have issues together. Sister: Yeah. Kill the Nazi helper dude. The one who's egging everything on. Schillinger doesn't even really do stuff on his own anymore. Before, he didn't want to fight and wanted to become a Jesus freak and it was always that guy whispering in his ear. And now look.

Sister: How we know he’s not gonna build a bomb in there? … Oh, I guess they took away all the cleaning supplies…

Stray Thoughts

Sister says Jia Kenmin and Li Chen’s plan to provoke Ryan so they could kill him in self defense was really not thought-out

Sister is convinced that someone is going to die for one of the dogs

Sister believes that killing Robson would get rid of most of the Aryans’ bite since she views him as being the worst out of all the Aryans

Final thoughts

The scene where Robson and what’s his face torture Lalar is the toughest scene to watch in the entire show, imo. And it pisses me off (like, I’m actually getting mad thinking about it right now, lol) that Robson gets more expansion in terms of character as the show progresses, too, because whooooooooo gives a shit about a Nazi?! They still haven’t followed up on Arif’s wife LMAO. Also Urbano gets introduced this episode and they don’t end up doing shit with him, really, either. But let’s learn about this asshole!!

Sister: I feel like they’ve run out of storylines with the Muslims and are just repeating past ones. Wasn’t it [Arif] who was the one complaining about Said’s leadership the last time? And then he couldn’t handle it which caused the whole thing… and now he’s doing it again? Me: I think they just don’t like when Said helps other people. They complained when Said was spending time on Beecher, too… Sister: Yeah, [Arif] is so needy… He’s like “you’re spending too much time with your roommate who you have to stay in a cell with” and also every time he is around, [Said] just wants [Omar] to be quiet anyway…

[mymisfitsbabe]

Billy had just finished cleaning his kitchen, just finished putting away the last clean plate when someone pounded on the front door. Frowning, Billy pulled off his apron and tossed it on the counter. 

“Who is it?” Billy asked as he padded over on bare feet to the closed door. 

“Who the fuck do you think it is? Open the Goddamn door.” Gator called back. 

“You can't just start showing up here, Tillman.”

“Just open the fucking door before I kick it down, Hargrove.”

Opening the door Billy sighed.

“What are you doing he- What the fuck is that?” Billy hissed as Gator pushed into his trailer and handed him a large furball. 

“It's a dog.” Gator sneered as he moved further into the small living room.

“Uh, and why the fuck did you bring it here?” Billy asked as it wiggled in his hold, it's sandy brown fur already shedding onto his black shirt.

Gator turned and gave Billy an exasperated look, but Billy's focus shifted as he spotted the shiner Gator sported under his right eye. Gator was still in his police uniform, his vest had some blood on it and he was covered in dirt splotches. He smelled like sweat and dogs.

“What the hell happened to you?” Billy asked, shifting the pup to one arm so he could grab Gator's face and get a good look at his eye. 

“Nothin. Anyways, you need a dog round here since it's so easy to break in this shit hole.” 

“Oh fuck off, just cause you decided to go all psycho horror movie on me doesn't mean I need a damn dog.” Billy passed the ball of fur back to Gator. 

“Just keep the fucking dog, Bills. It ain't gonna kill you.”

“What the hell am I supposed to do with it? I'm at work 12 hours a day.” 

“Take it with you, Benny loves dogs and the shop is gated off.” 

“Great, then give Benny the dog if he loves them so much.”

“I didn't get the dog for Benny, I got it for you.”

Billy sighed, as Gator set the dog on the couch. The thing was huge for a pup, thick sandy brown fur with bright brown eyes. It's paws and ears seemed too big for its body and the thing looked half wild. 

“Where'd you get it from anyways?” Billy asked, crossing his arms over his chest and eyeing the pup suspiciously. 

“It's a police pup reject. The mom got knocked up by a wolf and this is the pup. Bright side is it's trained.” Gator rambled as he sat next to the pup and started petting it's head. 

“A wolf? You want me to keep a wolf as a pet?” Billy balked. 

“Course, they make great guard dogs. Roy has a pack of bout six back home.” 

“Gator, I don't know. I've never had a dog before,” Billy carted a hand through his shaggy hair and sighed. “I don't have food for it and the store is closed.”

Gator shrugged, his face turning down. “I got stuff in the truck, you don't need to get it nothing. I just thought you'd like it. It's gotta be shit being out here alone all the time.” 

Gator was chewing on his lip, looking like he'd been kicked and Billy sighed. “What’s his name?” 

“Gator Jr.” Gator smirked up at Billy.

“That's a shit name.” Billy said arching a brow and suppressing and grin 

“Fuck you, Gator's an awesome name.” Gator threw the old beat up couch pillow at Billy.

Billy caught it and laughed. “I'm not calling him Gator, pick a different name you fucking redneck.”

Gator jutted his lip out and scratched the back of his head. “Fine, I guess her name is Eleven then. That's whats on her tags.” 

“Christ, there's eleven of them?” 

“Yeah, but the others are full German shepherds. The station is gonna keep those.” 

“Go get her stuff and show me how to not kill her.” Billy sighed. 

[haematoclan]

Raph's sense of responsibility

every time i see a headcanon that Raph was the one to rise his brothers instead of Splinter or that he was forced to grow up and be The Responsible and Careful One since he was a tot i just remember the moment where small Raph took the family heirloom teapot because they couldn't find a ball, yelled to Donnie of all people to "Go long" and chucked it at him with his full strength 😭

or the whole Turtle Tots short where he basically made/encouraged them all to play with dangerous, very real weapons and the moment Splinter was off their hair he did it again!

i don't think he's that anxious and burdened by responsibility... yet, at least. like, I'm pretty sure he had a lot of space to be a kid and have fun, despite their whole situation. i mainly think in the past he just assumed the role of the leader as default due to his oldest status and just liked to take charge while playing and not because he had a deep sense of responsibility since day he was born?

in the short he's not the one to step up against Splinter, and in the flashback he isn't the one to repair the teapot that he shattered, nor to damage control the situation, which kind of shows to me Raph had some growing up to do (which is understandable he's a kid after all!) and it also shows that he's not the only one to take charge, the responsibility is not solely on him! and I don't doubt Raph kept encouraging reckless behavior in himself and his brothers through the years!

like. this boy is an adrenaline junkie and loves roughhousing with his brothers! probably more than they all combined, his Cain Instincts are honestly off the charts!

(and i think it's worth adding he doesn't seem self-conscious about his size and spikes, nor his strength, while playing/attacking them).

seriously, even Mikey isn't free from Raph's roughhousing, he might be overprotective of the youngest but that doesn't mean it will safe Mikey from Raph's wrath!

i do however think that he was forced to grow up in the span of the show very fast. just not that much as a small kid (though just to be clear, that's still tragic, being forced to grow up at the age of 15/16 is still too early). i don't think it was because of Splinter's neglectful parenting. or well, at least not completely directly because of it. as absent as he was, Splinter was still trying to keep his sons away from mystic stuff and dangers of the world.

Mad Dogs started their hero business mostly thanks to a coincidence because Raph saw Mayhem in the first episode.

thanks to that they gained their super cool weapons and saved Mayhem, which probably made Raph feel good about himself (helping other tends to make you feel that way)! not to mention he got to beat up some villain, just like heroes he grew up with! he probably felt confident, powerful, full of adrenaline and happy, which i think instilled in him this idea of becoming a Hero.

and at first he didn't really understand what he was getting himself (and others) into, or even thinking about potential dangers being a Hero could put them all in.

I don't think Raph took the role as family's protector too seriously up until Bug Busters (a.k.a. Leo being thrown off the roof). i think him unlocking his power back then could be kind of symbolic of him "growing up", being forced to really see what could happen to his family because of his idea of becoming Heroes

and then he became more serious about this stuff. (and even then, he still had moments like for example, not showing to Splinter's important mission in Insane in the Mama Train)

(the rest of Mad Dogs kept treating the hero stuff as a side hobby at most though (and honestly why shouldn't they? they were 13-15)).

in conclusion... i get where the headcanon that Raph was responsible and anxious since the very early childhood comes from, Splinter doesn't give off an aura of responsibility or being a very present parent and it seems logical that Raph would pick up Splinter's slack, but I swear we should give Splinter and the rest of Mad Dogs a little more credit! i just (personally) find it more interesting to see Raph's ascend into being the Responsible Leader as a complicated and non-linear, slow journey, because that kind of shows better the growth and character development he had to go through in the show

[kyliafanfiction]

Now, I will freely admit that many fics act like fixing the various issues faced in the story Worm would be very easy. And they wouldn't be. SI fics are often like this, though some of them show their work and lay their groundwork.

But on the other hand, in Worm, information is an incredibly potent weapon, and there's a lot of things I could tell the PRT/Protectorate and Cauldron that - if they believed me (and that's the key thing, innit?) - would go a long way to making resolving the problems faced by the various characters onscreen in worm a hell of a lot simpler.

(simple things aren't always easy).

Like, if I can get the PRT to listen, well, telling them that Max Anders is Kaisar is pretty useful information. The PRT doesn't inherently respect the "unwritten rules", though they don't reject them wildly, so they may not just arrest him, but they'll definitely keep a closer eye on Medhall. If I can convince someone like Piggot I'm not talking out of my ass, I can explain to them about Thomas Calvert being Coil and how his powers work, and ways around it - again, beating him isn't easy, but it is simplified, massively.

If I can tell them about Dinah being kidnapped and what that means, about the fact that getting Grue to switch sides could be done by helping him with his sister and protecting his family. If I can point out they could spare themselves a lot of issues with Rachel Lindt if they just let her train dogs and left her alone (and the full details of her 'murder' and why it's not really her fault... if they believed me)

There's a lot of ifs and there's gonna be more, but with knowledge of what did happen, and how, it's a lot easier to resolve a lot of problems.

I can tell Cauldron about what's really going on with Eidolon's powers and the Endbringers - actually resolving the Endbringers is not so simple, but the connection between Eidolon's Shard and the Endbringers alone provides vital information. If I can convince them. If I can convince them, I can tell them that beating Scion requires bullying into committing suicide, more or less (Admittedly, I'd need to finish reading the GM arcs to articulate the details properly, but still).

Amy and Vicky? That whole thing rides on rails. actually resolving Amy's myriad of issues is hard. Preventing things going the way they did? End-running 11h and 15.x is doable with a few conversations, in theory.

Siberian is unkillable? Tell the PRT about Manton and Siberian being a projection. Crawler? Tell them about how a Bakuda Bomb turned him to glass (admittedly, executing this idea will not be so simple, depending on access to Bakuda and her bombs but still). Jack Slash? Explain how his power cheats and - after you've managed to take out his biggest meatshields - send a whole lot of people with knife-proof armor and heavy weapons at him. All of those would not be easy to put into effect, true, but they're fairly simple solutions. Jack Slash never lost to normals before because he always has his fellow S9 capes around him to cover his ass if someone gets shotgun-happy, but once you get rid of the really hard to kill ones... I mean Shatterbird isn't a Brute. Bonesaw's got all her plagues in her, so that one's less simple, but I mean, Burnscar died to Parian of all people, if I recall correctly. Manny the Kinless? A little harder, but a big enough boom.

There'd be casualties, maybe a lot of them, but it could very well working pretty well.

Executing these information provided solutions is absolutely easier said than done. Getting anyone to believe you is absolutely easier said than done.

Worm, as a universe, has a lot of things going on, and 'fixing' the entire Wormverse would be hard, but I think some people ignore how much resolving these issues becomes so much simpler when you have the necessary information.

I think some people are so attached to the level of suckitude in the Wormverse that they forget a lot of that is authorial thumb-scaling (which is entirely valid and not at all a critique of Wildbow, to be clear) and how a lot of the rest is just... the protagonists lacking critical pieces of information.

EDIT: To be clear, I am not and never going to write an SI story, because that's just not a thing I personally have any interest in writing. Also, I don't think I would be able to convince anyone of anything all that well. Not without getting myself killed along the way.

[bronx-bomber87]

Happy Monday evening all :) Ewww an Ashley episode. Such a bummer after the last episode haha Not a ton of Chenford content but what we do get is good. There is a case involved but they're not in it enough to analyze anything. Oh also this ep is the intro of Chris so double eww. This episode is just one giant display of why Ashley and Chris aren't meant for either of them. But we knew that already didn't we? Let’s get started eh?

4x10 Heart Beat

Start our episode off with why Ashley isn’t right for Tim. Hit the ground running and the reasons are plentiful. First off Tim doesn’t even think to make Ashley anything. This is all for Kojo. Which I friggin love btw. The animal lover in me adores how spoiled Kojo is. Also imma need some more of this pup in S6. You hear me writers? I need this dog back. Ashley says she’s not a breakfast person but still the least romantic morning ever. They are very early in their dating period and its pretty tame. The way he moves around her. No intimacy at all. Avoiding her as he makes his way over to Kojo’s bowl.

Shows more affection towards his dog than her haha It’s the complete opposite of Tim and Lucy in 5x20. Where there is zero space, lots of touching, flirting and food to be had. Can't keep their hands off each other. The blahness that is Ashley is prominent in this opening scene. Also her judgy tone when she mentions that’s what he gets? If I was dating a man who took that good of care of his dog? I would be a goner. But this is Ashley so….

She is far too vapid for Tim. I looked up the definition of that word to reinforce my point. “Offering nothing that is stimulating or challenging.” If that isn’t the definition of their relationship and her as a character idk what is. Tim has found the very opposite from Lucy in Ashley. She is blah, doesn’t challenge him in any way and definitely doesn’t stimulate him whatsoever. All things he gets from Lucy. Interesting...Almost like he shouldn't be dating her....

She continues down her ‘Why she is wrong for Tim path' When she is afraid/doesn’t like Kojo. I already didn’t like her but this didn’t help her case. If I was dating someone and they didn’t like my dog?Goodbye sir. Twas fun while it lasted LOL Maybe it’s the protective dog person in me but I can not stand her first thought being ‘dangerous’ with Kojo. Just because he didn’t like her at first. Tim telling her he took him in cause Lucy couldn’t keep him.

He tries to help her adjust to him but she isn't about it. Just wants to leave. To me if my dog doesn’t like you that is far more telling than anything else IMO. Dogs have a good sense of people so this would’ve been telling to me as a dog owner. Ashley was already on my 'I don’t like you list.' But the not liking Kojo part plummets her to the very bottom…Also watching Tim with Kojo is ovary explosion for me. Way he pets him and loves on him. My heart. That's his kid.

We join our couple in their shop. Lucy asks how it’s going with Ashley? Tim says good but there was some weirdness this morning. Tim mentions he thinks she doesn’t like Kojo. Lucy’s reaction cracks me up. She could not be more telling when she says 'So you broke up with her? Thats too bad….I liked her…’ 'Lying liar. You know she was hoping he did. We all want that.

The way he loves that dog it actually would make sense. To Lucy as well her not liking Kojo is another strike against her anyways. It’s a valid response to anyone who is a pet owner really. Unfortunately we are stuck with her for a long while. Bleh. My dislike for her is very strong. Because she is everything he doesn’t need or want.

Tim says since when? Knowing she has never liked her. That Lucy had been giving him crap cause she’s a lifeguard ha I mean I can't say I blame her. I would too. Her sarcasm continuing with her reply. Fairly certain none of us considered it a career until Ashley came into the picture. Tim defends the training she had to go through. That it was rigorous training at the fire academy. Trying to make her job sound more prestigious than it is in just the name alone. Lucy doesn’t press it further and says my bad with a smile even though I think she is still secretly judging her LOL

Lucy has such a dog-mom moment here. I love it so very much. As she states his full name above LOL I bet you she has supplied that boy with many chew toys he’s destroyed. Makes me happy to think of Lucy going over to Tim's just to deliver treats and toys for their shared fur-child. Seriously going to need some couple moments with him in S6. It's a crime we haven't gotten them yet.

Lucy's transparency continues when she tells Tim 'Clearly Ashley has to go.' If only it was that easy. Saying it’s a moot point if she doesn’t like Kojo. Now anyone can see she isn’t right for him. The person who knows him the best? Can see it from a mile away the multiple reasons Ashley isn’t right for Tim. So might as well cut this off right now in her opinion. The look they share haha Even when talking about his relationship they are flirty af. So married in their disposition with one another. I love it. Also he's not really disagreeing with her...

Lucy ends up getting a phone call and it’s Ashley… She is confused but intrigued by this phone call. Idk how the hell she got her number. LOL Now you know Lucy is in love with Tim when she gives such solid advice to Ashley. It’s the way she talks about Kojo being like Tim. Girl is so gone for him. Something she continually tries to suppress this entire season. Like she is warding it off really.

Ashley tells her she likes Tim but she’s scared of his dog. Asking why she gave him away? Asking if he was too aggressive? Ugh I hate her animal ignorance so much. Maybe it’s because been I've been in dog world for over a decade but I cannot stand her going right to ‘aggressive.’ Lucy defends her boy says 'No! Not at all. He just wasn’t meant for her living situation.'

Lucy asks if she doesn’t like dogs? Secretly hoping she says yes heh Ashley tells she had a bad experience once. Lucy empathizes and says she gets it. Goes on to say Kojo is the sweetest guy. It’s here we see her switch over to gushing about Tim. It’s the way she’s looking at Tim in Grey’s office that gets me. As she explains how Kojo is just like Tim. Careful Lucy your feelings are showing.

He’s big, gruff, and a whole lot of bark but underneath is a sweetheart. I mean Tim is for HER. Let’s get that clear first. Tim is only soft for Lucy. I adore her helping out in this situation though. She didn't have to but it's Lucy. If Ashley could see how she was looking at Tim. She might feel a little threatened. Not only that but her deep knowledge of Tim. Might catch on she’s just the littlest bit in love with him lol But then 4x12 happens later on so.... How she didn’t break up with Tim after that display idk. So maybe she wouldn’t put 2 and 2 together.

I'm giving her too much credit haha Lucy speaks from a place of love about him. She probably has no idea how she is coming off but it's so obvious. Clearly not talking about Kojo in that tone. She loves that good boy but loves his owner more. Lucy tells her to talk to Tim about it. Ashley replies no that she’s not going to make him pick between her or his dog. That there is a whole genre of country songs about that. Before Lucy can defend Tim more or why she should Ashley cuts the convo off and says good night. Awkward…

It’s then we meet friggin Chris Sanford. *glares* The epitome of meh. Earlier in the ep they arrested young boy dealing drugs. He is one of James’s newest mentees. Lucy being the empathetic soul she is cites him out on a lower charge. That way he gets a fighting chance with James to turn his life around. Just has to attend his court date and such. Very kind thing of her to do for this young man.

He comes in like a mega douche. Instant dislike for his character for how he comes at Lucy. Trying to shame her for citing him out like she did. Calling her naive and basically being an absolute asshat. Lucy CRUSHES him in her reply above. I dislike Chris so very much so this was glorious to watch. Tim Bradford doesn’t stand a chance most days against her. You think your puny ass with 4 months of experience had a chance of winning that argument? What a putz…

Lucy catches Tim in the parking garage before he leaves. Ah this glorious place where all our wonderful moments occur. Lucy tells him it was Ashley who called her earlier. Gotta love how open she is with Tim always. As usual Lucy is toeing the line of personal boundaries with him. Possibly overstepping by bringing this up. But that’s kind of their thing.

Also like to note how telling it is that Ashley felt more comfortable coming to Lucy and not her BF about this. That she didn’t think he would listen to her but Lucy would. Because well she did. Lucy does get the other side of the story with Kojo. That is not a dislike but bad experience on her end. Which to be fair is valid when you’ve had a bad experience with a dog. Now that being said I still dislike so very much.

What I’m trying to get at here is Lucy interpreted this as Tim not fulling listening to Ashley’s concern. It’s not surprising Tim gets a little hard headed about things. Especially things he loves. So he’s instantly defensive about said things. I’m the same way. Lucy knows this about him. Which is why they’re having this conversation. So she can bring his attention to it in way only she can. Because Tim actually listens to Lucy. This scene really is more about their bond than his issue with Ashley. How Lucy is the only one who can ever get through to Tim. Her super power really.

He doesn’t listen to anyone the way he listens to Lucy. Especially when she is doling out advice for him. This is a kindness she is doing for him. Letting him know one his GF called her and two the reason behind it. That she is scared and he needs to listen to her about it. Tim shrugs it off like it’s nothing. Which you can see Lucy is a little taken aback with. How instantly shut off he is to this conversation. But like i said earlier he is defensive about things he loves. He LOVES that dog.

This is their dance with advice he is defensive or dismissive at first. Then it sinks in and he truly listens to what she is telling him. She may not like Ashley. (None of us do..) But she would be remiss not to share her opinion on this with him. Tim instead of thanking her for the advice deflects. Because well Tim. Asking why she is so invested in his love life? Asking with a little smile some sass in that question of his. Also gauging what her reaction will be. He is truly curious.

It is interesting how his love life is the only one she intercedes in. Not Nolan or any of his. She didn’t with Jackson for either of his love interests. Just Tim. Because that shows the level of importance this man has gained in her life. Saw some parallels to this moment and 2x03. When she was trying to pair Tim up with Rachel. How Lucy once again is involved in his love life. It’s true that she just wants him to be happy.

Also Tim’s interest in why she is interested in his love life is far different than 2x03. He didn’t question it then. Just thought it was apart of their bet. In S4 he is a lot more aware. Like I said in the last review their bond and their awareness of each other is far stronger than it was in S2. He is so genuinely curious why she is so invested in it?

They’ve had a lot of intimate moments and work flirts since 4x01. Tim can feel the shift that has happened between them. So it makes him curious why she is helping him like she is? Lucy does some deflecting of her own for his question. Saying she doesn’t want to drive around on patrol while he is moping around about this girl. He is so offended by her saying this it's so funny. That if he likes this girl he should listen to her. It’s funny all the things she’s telling him to do with Ashley he naturally does with her. Funny old world lol

Tim’s reply back cracks me up. Saying when has he ever moped? That he doesn’t even know how to. Oh but you do my love. You perfect it in S5. While you pine for her while she is still with Chris the putz. But ok sure you don’t know how. His eye roll is so damn funny Eric always crushes it when he does this. Her little Mmhmm as she walks away smirking. Has this man wrapped around her finger. She drives him insane and Tim absolutely loves it.

Tim follows through on Lucy’s advice and listens to Ashley’s fears. Really Lucy extended this relationship when it was destined to fail. But she cares so much about Tim and his happiness she gave him solid advice. This bit made me chuckle. Saying Kojo needs to be bossed around a little to listen. heh. Just like daddy. There's a reason he only listen's to Lucy.

Kojo being just like Tim of course he needs a strong woman to boss him around to listen. I wouldn't call Ashley strong but she got the idea. I mean that scene in the parking garage kinda a parallel to this one in that regard. Doesn’t listen at first then eventually comes around when they're bossed around ha. Not a ton in this ep for them. Solid moments nonetheless. Sadly we are saddled with a Chris and Ashley for a little while. But we get tons of goodies between all that so it helps.

~~~

Side notes- non Chenford

I do love James and Wes starting up their bromance. They cute.

Thank you to all who continually support these reviews. Your likes, comments and reblogs make it all worth it. See you Wednesday with 4x11 :)