#abel angst just for you <3< /div> Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[skyloftian-nutcase]

The word break? (for Abel 🤣)

Legend raised an eyebrow as he watched the tired man continue to split wood for the group. "Have you ever heard of taking a break? You're almost as bad as our Ordonian."

Abel ignored him, but the burning in his muscles was certainly bothering him more... nothing could get the image of his son crying out of his head, though, and so he pushed his body until it screamed more than his boy's haunting sobs did.

[garbinge]

Chalk Drawings

Happy Lowman & Juice Ortiz & Platonic!Reader Jax Teller & Teller!Sister Reader Opie Winston x Teller!Sister Reader

Day 22 from these April Prompts: Chalk Drawings

Summary: When Happy and Juice are on protection duty and the AC is broken you and the kids take to the outside to escape the sweaty prison that’s Jax’s house as you wait for your brother and partner to come home. 

Words: 1.9k 

A/N: I’ve been having a rough couple of days so I’m not really sure what this is but, I hope you all enjoy! lol.

Warnings: pretty fluffy (for me and my writing lol), reader has a daughter with Opie (no name given), no use of Y/N, slight angst/tension, alludes to death/murder slightly, nothing that’s not canon-level. 

SOA Taglist: @drabbles-mc @justreblogginfics​

It was a beautiful summer afternoon, the sun was shining, there were fluffy clouds in the sky that were shaped like cotton candy. The only downside was that the California heat had no mercy and apparently neither did Jax’s air conditioner. It had broken early in the morning and by the afternoon the whole place felt like a sauna. Fans and open windows did nothing against the real feel of 93 degrees and there were only so many popsicles you willingly wanted to give to all the kids. This is what brought you outside on the driveway that had been covered by shade all day so it was luckily not burning hot. You had the full Winston x Teller group today, Kenny, Ellie, Abel, and your 3 year old daughter with Opie. The club was in partial lockdown due to business with the Cartel. Partial lockdown usually just meant no one was left alone, everyone who was someone had protection on them, which meant it was easier for people to stay in groups. Hence why you had all the kids right now. Gemma was out with Tara grocery shopping for the house and had taken Tig with them just to keep a close eye. This left you with Juice and Happy while Jax and Opie went on a run together with a few of the other guys. 

The sprinkler was going on the grass, something for the kids to run through if they got too hot, but currently the group of them were on the driveway drawing with chalk. Abel and Kenny had paired up leaving your daughter to rest in between your legs with a piece of chalk in her hands while Ellie sat to your left doing the same. You started doodling with one of the pieces of chalk that was scattered along the driveway to pass the time as well while Happy and Juice leaned against their bikes, keeping watch all of you. 

“You wanna get your hands dirty?” You held up the pink piece of chalk and called out to the two bikers. 

Juice was quick to smile but deny the request, his way of trying to look tough. You clocked it immediately because just yesterday he was eating a spongebob popsicle off the ice cream truck when he was the only one on your watch detail. 

“Yes I do.” Happy said instantly and eagerly as he pushed off his bike. He was quick to grab the chalk from you and begin doodling on the pavement. You thought you’d be shocked at his instant agreement to join you on the ground with the pastel art tools but surprisingly, it was exactly what you expected. Happy knelt on the pavement, one knee touching the ground while the other was being used as an armrest for the arm that wasn’t creating a chalk masterpiece. 

“C’mon Juice.”  You nodded your head to wave him over. 

“Yea, c’mon Juice!” Your daughter called out with a smile. 

You smirked at that and so did Juice as he walked over to you both. The little girl in your lap holding out the pink piece of chalk up to the biker. 

“Thanks,” His smirk not falling as he grabbed the chalk from the girl. 

“S’my favorite color.” She beamed at you and said the color’s name to show how smart she was. “Pink.” 

“It’s Juice’s too.” You teased and patted to the free space next to you as he shook his head and blushed. “Show me what you got, Juicy.” 

He started drawing stick figures, graffiti words, tribal drawings like his tattoos. 

“Can you draw me a flower?” Your daughter was quick to crawl out of your lap and sit in front of Juice. 

“I can try.” He began to try and draw some version of a flower, although it was looking more like a blob. 

“That’s not very good.” She tilted her head and frowned at it. 

You called out your daughters name, a warning to be nice although it didn’t do much. 

“Why does your hair look like that.” She asked as she drew over Juice’s flower creating her own masterpiece. 

Juice practically spit out the sip of water he just took at the girl’s question. 

“Why don’t you go see what Abel and Kenny are drawing, huh? Go ask Happy your questions.” You interrupted to give Juice a break. The girl shrugged and skipped her way over to the other group on the driveway. You knew Happy could handle the questions and would give them right back which entertained her. 

“Can you teach me how to draw that?” You heard her voice behind you as she stood over Happy’s shoulders. 

“I sure can.” He nodded and handed her the yellow piece of chalk before the sounds of the chalk hitting the pavement filled the air.

“Mommy look!” She called out and you turned to see the tons of smiley faces drawn on the ground, some smiling, some crying, some grinning. Your eyes jumped to Happy and back to the drawings a few times. No one came out and told you what Happy’s name meant, but being a Teller you had been around the clubhouse enough to see Happy hit the ring which meant seeing the array of smiley tats across his lower abdomen. It didn’t take a genius to put it together. 

You weren’t sure if you wanted to laugh or be mortified, the kids had no idea what it meant but there was a part of you that felt like there was something eerie about it. 

“Nice drawings.” Your eyebrows raised at him with a smirk as your nostrils flared. 

Happy smiled, oblivious to your sarcasm and nodded.

The sound of motorcycle engines filled the air, but there was no sign of who it was yet. Happy and Juice quick to stand up, Happy picking up your young daughter while you got up as well. He handed the girl to you before walking to the end of the driveway with Juice. As you situated the girl in your arms you began to walk near the garage door and called the rest of the kids over to you. There was a pit in your stomach, you grabbed your nephew and placed him behind you and told Kenny and Ellie to do the same as you guided them as well, using yourself as a human shield to them as you typed in the code to the garage door. 

The bikes got closer and as the sound got louder so did your thumping heart. The garage door was taking its sweet time to open, you tried your best to keep your wits about you as to not scare the kids but it was hard when Happy and Juice were reaching for there pieces. 

“Let’s play a game!” Your head snapped to the kids as the garage door opened. “Go inside and we’ll play hide-n-seek! Only rule is you MUST stay in the house. You hide and I’ll find you!” 

The kids giggled and immediately ran inside the house, your daughter wasn’t eager to leave your arms to play so you kept her in your grip, her head rested on your shoulder which soon dropped in relief as you saw the reaper on the bikes that were approaching. You recognized both bikes, your brother and Opie’s. A breath you didn’t realize you had been holding in let out and you closed your eyes in reassurance. 

Happy and Juice fell back quickly too, their relief looking a little different than your own. As both men pulled up to the curb and backed their bikes up, you started to walk down the driveway. Opie walked over to Happy and Juice likely to fill in the crew on what had just happened while Jax walked up to you. 

“You look like you just saw a ghost.” His long blond hair blew in the hot heat as his smirk grew. 

“I thought I was about to become one.” The only reason you let the joke out was because within the few minutes of your daughter being in your arms she had fallen asleep. 

He frowned and picked his hand up to tuck your daughters hair behind her ear. 

“I’ve been on edge, heard the bikes.” You shook your head and looked down. 

“We figured it all out, we’re fine, you’re safe.” His eyes jumped from yours to the girl in your arms, “all of you.” 

Jax’s eyes looked down at the concrete to see the chalk drawings on the ground, clocking the smiley faces immediately and let out a chuckle. 

“Really, Hap?” Jax called out to the man who smiled and nodded. 

At this point, Opie was walking over, his tall body standing over you in seconds as he placed a kiss on your head. 

“Hey, you okay?” His brows furrowed picking up on your tension. 

“We spooked her.” Jax teased you as he pinched your elbow. 

Opie’s eyes moved back to yours looking for confirmation. 

“I’m fine.” You argued and looked up to Opie who smiled knowing that the sibling rivalry was coming through in your short worded sentence. 

“Where the kids?” He asked still smiling. 

“Inside, I told them we’re playing hide-n-seek if you want to go find them.” You knew both men would pick up on the fact you told them to hide and probably why but before either of them could get to the bottom of why you were so on edge besides the obvious, your daughter was stirring awake. 

“Look who's here.” You whispered to her as she sat up in your arms and you turned so she could see her father. 

“Hi Daddy.” Her voice was still half asleep. 

“Hi baby.” Opie’s arms extended out so he could grab her. “I drew smileys with Happy.” She rested her head against his shoulder in an attempt to go back to sleep. Opie looked down at the pavement and then back to you. 

“She also asked Juice about his haircut.” You crossed your arms. 

“It looks funny.” She said still at a mumble causing Opie and Jax to laugh. 

“I think it does too.” Jax started to walk inside the house. “Ready or not, here I come!” He called out but you knew he was going to grab a drink and a snack from the kitchen before he started to look for the kids. 

“I guess next time we’ll keep Hap with us.” Opie teased as you both started to walk inside while the sound of Juice and Happy’s bikes started. You turned to wave goodbye to both of them before looking back at Opie as you made your way into the garage. 

“Nah, he might be insane but he’s good with the kids and having him around actually puts me at ease.” 

“If this is you at ease, I’d hate to see you tense.” Opie teased you again as the garage door closed. 

“Why don’t you and this jelly bean here go look for the kids.” Your arms still crossed as your eyes rolled. 

“You wanna go find Abel, Ellie, and Kenny?” Opie bounced up and down to wake up his daughter. “I’ll give you a popsicle if you find them all.” His voice raised as he incentivized the girl who was suddenly wide awake. 

“Let’s go!!!” She kicked as he placed her down and she hit the ground running. “C’mon Mom, let’s go!!!” She called out to you. 

Opie smirked and threw his arm around you, “yea, let’s go.” 

[seven-stars-in-his-palm]

okay so a couple of days ago i saw this ask on @fellshish's blog about a need for a full 1941 discorporated aziraphale angst fic, realized i had an entire outline already in the hull, and... this happened:

a "what if crowley didn't miss in 1941" fic, including but not exclusive to the moment itself, the hours leading up to it, and the aftermath; a fanfiction (chapter 3/4)

summary:

It's Fell the Marvelous' awaited debut performance on the West End. He has his marksman, his turnips, and things appear to be going as planned—that is, until said marksman does the one thing he was supposed to avoid. Not missing. (or: the bullet catch goes wrong, and due to a tiny technicality, crowley's afraid aziraphale is gone for good. and crowley himself—for the first time in quite a while—is well and truly alone.)

warnings: full of blood, sweat, kissing while crying, blown up heads, prayers, nostalgic churches, polaroids, alcohol, and aziraphale being a discorporated bastard and bitching his way back to earth while a plot we should probably be focusing occurs as we ignore it entirely. and written extremely slowly. oxymoron but i couldnt get this out of my head fast enough and now you must endure it (should you choose to accept). i think i'm gonna be pretty proud of this though. excited!

(also thank @tforthetea for the inspiration because a conversation with them helped spark this the first time. all hail)

ao3 link for those who didn't check the title, and fic under the cut! :)

chapter 1: number thirteen

One of the things Crowley liked gloating about on occasion was that he was older than Death Itself.

He wasn’t technically wrong, per se. The humans think him mad, and the demons think him stupid, but he was still right. Human concepts, despite their hold on the population and overall importance, were non-existent before or even during the Beginning. The Four Horsemen and other ideas evolved right alongside the humans, so technically, Crowley was older than all of them. He rather liked having something to lord over War (in his head), during the few unfortunate meetings he would have with her. Famine was a non-issue, and Death could not touch him regardless of how much he didn’t like him. There were failsafes.

Now, however, actually being in the room that Aziraphale could potentially walk into and never come out of, Crowley would gladly take all of it back and pretend he never even thought about it at all.

The damned magician. Crowley never caught his name, but if he had, he would wrought him with the most annoyingly small curses that no one would ever believe to be true after today. Tonight wasn’t just about impressing the audience or even repaying that wine-filled debt, it was about them. Tonight, Crowley was to play the trusted stooge, and…shoot the angel. Point blank. In the face. And make it look real. And not discorporate him. And not get them fired. And—

There were a lot of things to consider, alright? To contrary belief, Crowley did, in fact, not think Death was silly or stupid. He’d also been there when It was born, you know. Crowley liked Abel. Watching It happen was, plainly, fucking terrifying. It brought up something new, and change was just as scary as Death. Ask anyone, and they’d tell you.

Crowley has been running that unfortunate meeting involuntarily through his head for the first ten or so minutes of waiting for the actual show to begin, while also listing out the terrible things he would do to the magician man had he ever held the opportunity again. He’d been sort of gunning (no pun intended) to stay backstage and avoid the riffraff, but been ushered out the dressing room the second he’d given his (admittingly harsh) two cents on the situation. Aziraphale said he wanted privacy before the big show, but Crowley knew he was just ticked. Aziraphale was an angel who thrived with a supportive devil over his shoulder.

So, Crowley is just milling around in the crowd as the Allied soldiers and their companions filter in. They come and go—a Lady even comes to check on him at point, mentioning odd vacant gazes and looking over shoulders paranoid-like, but he waves them off before they can pry. He really shouldn’t be so worried—even if Aziraphale…‘didn’t make it through the night’, he’d eventually be fine. As long as he discorporated a certain way, nothing too lethal—some deaths were harder to come back from others.

They’ve been discorporated before, of course. That was how Crowley knew this. Six millennia offered many opportunities for the event. But never, and it was never, at each other's hand. On paper, yeah, they killed each other on occasion, but truly…

Crowley shifts nervously, sending a glare at anyone who got a bit too close, but the brief discomforts aren’t enough to lift his spirits. There was one entity faffing about who refused to bugger off even with direct acknowledgements, though that might be because Crowley was imagining It. Or It really was here, and interested in the affairs of potential angel discorporation. Or a bomb was going to fall here and It was just beating the rush. The theories were far from endless.

Death appeared back there as soon as Crowley had been kicked out. He’s simply been dealing with it since then, and It probably wasn’t helping to lift his spirits. He shouldn’t be so antsy—both logic and mechanics deemed it so.

They’d be fine, Crowley repeats to himself near constantly, finding a proper seat in direct line of sight where Aziraphale will be standing. He readjusts his tie as the humans sit around him, creating a perfectly isolated bubble of red velvet seats. What did it matter that twelve humans died doing this before? They weren’t human. Death had no claim on them. It couldn’t take them even if It so desired.

Crowley scowls at the hooded figure standing near the entrance of the theater, cold scythe gleaming under the warm bulbs of the West End. Its just…standing there. Making no move to come closer, either. Odd.

Crowley sinks lower into his plush seat, as if trying to avoid Death’s gaze. But being one of two immovable objects on this Earth, It’s always on him. If Death had a goal, there would be no point in warding It away.

Seeing Death is a famous bad omen, and would send a chill down his spine had it been anywhere else. At this moment, however, Crowley is simply irritated. If It was looking for another soul in this theater, that was fine by him, let It take them, but It would not be ruining whatever this was. Humans were ever plentiful—there was only one angel deserving of Earth.

Before Crowley can decide whether or not he should be stupid and confront the omen in the room, the lights go dim. The crowd’s murmurs die down, and Crowley has no choice but to stay seated and watch the show. Aziraphale wouldn’t be coming on until the Ladies of Camelot had their first number, but Crowley could easily endure it. The gaze aimed straight at his head could be ignored.

World be damned if It took the angel’s enthusiasm. They’d be fine. Crowley just has to remember that.

-----

Things are, indeed, not going fine.

Crowley is meant to go up on stage any second now. Aziraphale has no inkwell in his gloved hand. No amount of snapping is removing said turnip from line of sight. He reads the pamphlet—then again, then again, then again, but there is no second option for apparently miracleless individuals.

Fucking. Hell.

Whatever false bravado Aziraphale is spewing is null and void compared to the should-be-non-existent nerves running through frantic hands and finding absolutely nothing useful. Crowley flips through the same two pages—give the stooge the bullet, poise, and shoot. The miracle would’ve ensure that the bullet would never leave the barrel. But now—now, well, he really regrets not considering a Plan B. Did they ever consider a Plan B? Apparently not.

Getting there is a blur. Aziraphale is essentially shoving the rifle into Crowley’s care, which is honestly becoming a worse idea by the second. He’s switching between the demon and the audience so quickly that Crowley can’t tell who he’s addressing. They’re deathly quiet, and Crowley would feel embarrassed if his heart that shouldn’t be there wasn’t pounding with too much blood in too little time. His mind is a soup. Muddled, feverish, and incredibly foul tasting. You wouldn’t want to drink it even if you were starving.

“I would ask you,” Aziraphale says loudly, cutting through the fog of utter mental mush, “to take this bullet, and load it into the rifle. Very carefully.”

Crowley nods belatedly, squeezing and turning parts of the gun to get the non-existent warmth running back through his fingers. He takes the bullet, and turns it round a few times while Aziraphale stares at him with excruciating anxiety. Is he stalling? Honestly, even Crowley wouldn’t be able to tell you.

“It's perfectly simple,” Aziraphale mutters softly, pushing the gun a bit closer. “Aim for my mouth, but shoot past my ear.”

Crowley can’t find himself to agree here. He’s staring at him, and that would usually get him to listen regardless of shades, but Death is boring into them like the harshest of theater critics. His skin is slick, almost clammy, threatening to let the gun slip and fire a stray bullet anywhere but its intended target. His back is sore, oddly enough. Irritating.

Crowley has questions, like he always does, but the time has long passed. What he wants to ask is ‘do I just squeeze that little bit there?’ pointing at (what looks like) to be the trigger—but then that would just make Crowley look incompetent, so he swallows it back and nodly lightly. He’s never fired a gun like Aziraphale seems to believe whole-heartedly, but he’s certainly watched it happen. He’s picked up enough of the motions to figure it out on his own.

That thought still doesn’t help when he’s being told to insert the bullet, though. Crowley fumbles through it, opening a mislaid hatch or two, but manages before Aziraphale could raise any alarms. He’s already stood back in position (when did that happen?) when Crowley raises the loaded rifle for all to see, proclaiming as such. He bites back the tremor threatening to appear—he wasn’t nervous. Excited, more like it. Excited to finally get an excuse to make a throw at the angel non-suspicious like.

That was all it was. Really.

Crowley turns the rifle one last time as Aziraphale spins more useless pageantry for the audience to woo at. They’re both grinning, but tightly and annoyingly false. It wasn’t the eyes that were the problem—what, do you think that demons ever got stage fright? Absurd!

It was just...well, there weren’t just humans in this audience. Crowley couldn’t forget the shadow looming at the end of the theater no matter how tight he grips the side of the weapon. But, just like Someone had laid out all that Time ago—Death could only perceive them.

It could not touch them.

It would not touch them.

It would not touch him, if he could help it.

The drums begin their incessant titter as Aziraphale finally turns to Crowley properly, blue cloak glimmering under the warm light of the stage before them. “A-are you ready, sir?”

Crowley would scoff at this if he could. Sir. Only humans ever addressed him that way; angels look down on him, demons sneer at him. Though he supposes this angel would be different—always throwing the curveballs, him.

“When you hear my signal,” the angel says, voice growing quieter, “shoot.”

Aziraphale removes his tophat, revealing preciously white curls. This pings something, the remaining traces of damned sense he’s got buried inside. Crowley isn’t sure what has possessed him—but he shakes his head. It’s all he can do. Don’t make me do it, he nearly warns out loud. Not if you know what’s good for you.

Aziraphale stills, but not before mouthing words that would be akin to an ashamed mumble if he were close enough. Trust me.

Trust me.

Satan, he got him there. That’s why Crowley was here, after all. Stooge. 100% Reliable Marksman.

Right.

Aziraphale isn’t nearly as good as Crowley at hiding his anxious gaze. “Ready?”

Oh, Heavens no. He never would be, but no better time than the present. Or something like that. He can’t recall where it came from.

“Aim…”

Crowley can’t ignore it anymore—he’s shaking. Extremely so, at that. It’s knocking around the air in his lungs very unkindly. It’s quite difficult to aim. His head is bobbing around in the scope.

Just about…

There it is.

Crowley waits—just like he’s done for the last…however long. A long time. His arms are starting to hurt, frankly. He rests his finger over the trigger to ease the trembling a tad.

And the magician remains silent.

Crowley ignores the sweat crawling down his neck. (Wasn’t it supposed to be freezing?) He waits some more—it’s not like one can forget where you are. Benefit of the doubt and such.

Nothing still. Nary a nod.

He’s been staring at him for a minute. The crowd hasn’t uttered a peep. Is Crowley just supposed to…do it? Did they talk about this? They must have. They talked about this. They talked about it, right? Yeah. Yeah, they must have—

"Fire!"

He startled him.

The reason why he listens is easy to explain. Aziraphale made Crowley flinch. A bit of a spook, really, not that bad of a fright. A sudden jolt—a tap on the shoulder, one that said ‘oh, look, you’ve got perfect aim already! Shoot!’

And he did.

What’s the first rule of approaching someone with a weapon again?

Right. Don’t fucking scare them.

The handle is warm. Slick, heavy, shaky. The scope aims with guilty target missing at the helm. A puff of smoke is spewing from the barrel. A thump, a sickening thump, deafening in the cricket silence of a post-trick world.

And Aziraphale…is on the floor.

(Where else would he be, really?)

There, obviously. On the floor. With a blown-up head. Bleeding like blessed Heaven. Bleeding like bloody Heaven, while Crowley has to take in the sight and smell the blessed thing.

It fits. They fit. Like a perfect crown on a decapitated head.

God, his head’s just gone, isn’t it?

A noise cuts through the thick silence like a stubbornly determined knife. Far away, above it all, there it rings. It’s muffled, soft, and almost awkward in the way it cuts through the air. A camera click. A reluctant, malicious camera click.

And that was just the perfect way to say it, no? He blew his brains out. Crowley blew his angel’s fucking brains out with a fucking gun that he’s never fucking held before.

Trust me.

Well. That, no doubt, was Aziraphale’s fault—it’d be a funny old world if angels and demons went around trusting one another.

-----

hgh. hope that was decent. chapter two coming as soon as it can because im invested now :))

[agendabymooner]

satellite ! max v. x ofc (hearth sister!ofc)

“i’m here, right here. wishing i could be there for you.”

summary: when the news of the downfall of her racing journey broke out, max verstappen promised to never let her down like that ever again. (1)(2)(3)(4)(5)

content warning: confrontation and good crying sesh with max and ofc, panic attack, alludes to smut (not graphic), use of explicit language, angst, set in vs fashion show 2016

note: 300 FOLLOWERS?! you guys are insane and i love you all so much!!! thank you!!!

masterlist

[translation: i’m just putting my french fluency into use. thank you paris!]

tagged victoriassecret, steviemarlz

liked by danielricciardo, aimeeyh, max33verstappen

comments have been limited

charles_leclerc such a heartwarming caption from you ❤️

sylvieeford charles leclerc? hardly know her 🤐

landonorris my best friend ate 👏 liked by sylvieeford

sylvieeford thank u best friend

tillymarie ughhh you girls make me proud ❤️ liked by sylvieeford

sylvieeford i’m always eager to please 😍

danielricciardo when the mini boss can do anything >> liked by sylvieeford

sylvieeford call me barbie 😉

max33verstappen what a beaut 😁 liked by sylvieeford

sylvieeford don’t get too soft on me now, caddy 😂

Her standard was Max, and god, did that ever ruin her chance to have a rebound. Whenever she got the chance to go on dates, she seemed to cower from the thought. As if she was worried about not getting along with the said dates.

Speaking of anxiety.

The Victoria’s Secret Fashion Show was on the go, and to say that it was nerve wracking would be quite a shame. You would think that she would be alright with walking down the runway now— but to know that some of her peers were here to support her, three days after the last race? Yeah, she might as well shit on her pants. 

She had everyone else to be nervous about; Lady Gaga was there for fucks sake. She was in the same room as Adriana Lima and Elsa Hosk. Hell, even Abel would be performing during her segment— why was she nervous about seeing her driver friends while she walked down the runway? 

She supposed that no one had seen her pose in her underwear before. That, and that they all grew up with her— it was weird to see your childhood friend all grown up, dressed in lingerie and nothing else. 

Not that Max Verstappen hadn’t seen that months ago. 

Fuck, Max was going to be there! 

She knew she was nervous. She just didn’t realize that it was because of him. Why would she be nervous? After all, working together had a major effect on their relationship. And… sleeping together once. 

Because he didn’t bring it up anymore after their conversation that day. He was friendly with her, but not once did he mention that he wanted to do it again. She wasn’t sure if it was because of their workplace relationship or their general friendship, but she was sure as hell that it hurt. Not that she would ever tell him that. Not especially after she found a woman clinging to him at their next race’s afterparty. 

So it did hurt. But as a prideful daughter of a miserable mother, she kept a straight face and smiled at everyone. 

After seeing him that night, she kept their relationship as civil as it could be— only listening to him “Maxplain” everything he could speak about, and offering him advice whenever he needed it. She failed to mention a lot of things in her life— like how Abel was performing tonight. Max only found out through their friends hours prior to the event and while it pissed him off to no end, he couldn’t afford to upset Sylvie on her special day. This was her day after all. She was debuting as a VS model. 

Tilly and Aimee had managed to see Sylvie and Stevie before the show as they prepared. They had mostly spoken about how they were able to get to the location easily and how Soren fussed when Tilly left him at Toto’s watch. 

“The boys are there,” Aimee pointed her head towards the direction of the audience, “I told them not to be foolish this time around.”

“Did you tell them to behave and not bark?” Stevie giggled, making Sylvie cackle. Sylvie’s makeup artist shot her a warning to not ruin her makeup by crying in laughter. 

“They know not to,” Tilly rolled her eyes, “those men have PR managers to answer to otherwise.” 

“I think George and Alex were only there chilling,” Aimee said, “I didn’t think someone could have anxiety even if they’re just an audience— not until I saw Max.” 

“Max? Why?” Now that piqued Sylvie’s curiosity.

Tilly answered, “I dunno. It must’ve been the adrenaline from Abu Dhabi, if you were to ask me. He’ll be fine once the show starts.” 

The beating of her heart slowed down when her segment started, only focusing on the front and had only given Abel a look of indifference before making her way through the middle, posing with her head tilting slightly to the right. Walking back, she glanced on her right and watched Max’s eyes stare at hers. 

She kept her head in his direction for a moment, not even realizing that she walked past Abel as her ears muted his song and voice, only paying attention to Max before looking back in front of her and walking off. 

Max knew that she had seen him with his not-really-girlfriend in each race, and it was extremely stupid of him. Rebounds shouldn’t be a thing at all, he told himself. He knew how he felt about her, yet after spending some time with her in a bedroom, he seemed to chicken out and not tell her about the love he had for her.

He always wondered how she went from insulting him jokingly to having a civil conversation and agreeing to everything he said. It was wrong. Why didn’t she say something about it? They agreed not to lie to each other, did they not? 

He seemed to feel like a hypocrite just saying that. But he was more than willing to admit that she was just as beautiful as she was before. He only started to feel different when they shared an intimate moment with each other, one that he’d like to relive for as long as he could breathe.

But they weren’t even aware that admitting would have to take time. After all, there were more problems to solve. 

Partying had never been a priority for her, if you were to ask, but Kendall insisted that Sylvie come along before the younger girl could even dive headfirst into her work throughout their break. The third Hearth daughter only nodded and dressed up as nicely as she could, only deciding that she would only drink one glass of daiquiri. What she didn’t know, however, was that Kendall had invited her guy friends to join them at the party. She had never felt so annoyed— why wouldn’t Kendall tell her in the first place that she’d invite them? Not that she wasn’t enthralled at the thought. Some warning would have sufficed. 

But it wasn’t their presence that made her want to go home. 

Everyone was too busy dancing to even sit in their booth, leaving Sylvie behind while she scrolled through her Twitter. She liked the peaceful atmosphere that the club could offer in a booth. And her blocking Abel was definitely something. 

Her eyes found a tweet that left her blood running cold. No.

“Sylvie’s Failed F1 Career: Explained”

From top to bottom, the story of her discontinued journey in Formula One was splayed out in a gossip website— a rather accredited one, while you’re at it. People would normally say not to believe what you see on the internet, but the truth was published and spread in the Formula One community and show business. 

Nobody knew what had happened before. Not until now. Whoever the fuck were these anonymous sources, they were nothing but assholes. Everything in the article was detailed from head to toe. Some stuff that people didn’t know were put up for everyone to see and shame her with.

Then panic started to spread across her body, her feet stumbling up as she marched down towards the dance floor, her hand gripping on Max’s shirt as she dragged him to a seedy area of the club no one had ever stepped foot on. 

“Mustang, what—“

“Cut the bullshit, Max,” she spewed out venomously before she shoved her phone in his hand. “Did you do this?” 

His eyes peered down on the article on screen as they widened. He looked up to see her teary eyes appearing once more. 

“No,” he answered honestly, but she wasn’t having it.

“You knew what happened, you’re the one who reported me, Max,” she cried out, her body shaking in anger and panic as she continued, “you saw that. You told the officials—“

“But that doesn’t mean I would fuck your career over!” Max exclaimed in frustration. “I told you that if you had somehow given me a heads up that they were kicking you out, I would have gone back and made them review it. Me not being there when you were being questioned was the biggest mistake I’ve made, because I know you. You’re honest. I would’ve known. I would’ve admitted that I was wrong if I heard you speak for yourself.”

“Then why do this? If you respect me then why do this now?”

“Sylvie, schatje,” he took a deep breath before looking at her again, “I would not— for the life of me— treat you like that. God, I would never forgive myself if I did. So I swear that isn’t me.” 

He didn’t even realize how bad their situation was until she started crying and crumbling in his arms, the music still tampering with the hysterical sound of her sobs. He tried to comfort her right there, but the loudness of the club only messed with both of their emotions and anxiety as he picked up their stuff and hailed for a cab. 

It didn’t take him long to find his room as she continued to cry in his arms. She spoke about her worries about her career as she sobbed, not wanting to lose her job in Red Bull and as a model because of this disaster they both called a lie. How was she going to explain all of this to her family? She asked herself as she sniffled, wiping her tears away. She hadn’t even realized that Max was crying too. 

All of this happened because he believed his friends who couldn’t give anymore shit about him. All of this happened to her because of him. All he could do now was apologize with tears. 

“I- I- I’ll do my best to fix this,” Max stammered, wiping his tears away to hide it away from her as she looked up. “Let me please help you fix this. This was my doing and I- I can’t hurt you like this, Sylv. I can’t afford to have you lose your career because of me. Just… please, forgive me and let me help.” 

“Please, Max,” she whispered. “I can’t be silenced anymore, Max. I- I need someone to speak for me.” 

“We’ll be speaking for you,” Max promised, leaning his forehead against hers. “I’ll… I don’t care if it ruins my own career, I just know yours cannot be ruined because of me. I’ll be here for you, schatje. Just have me.”

[jadarnr]

Hello everyone!

Back here after 4 long years… Breaking the ice with my fave #OTP game…

List 10 OTPs without reading the questions:

1. Crowley/Aziraphale (Good Omens)

2. Belle/Rumple (Once upon a time)

3. Christina/Owen (Gray’s Anatomy)

4. Olivia/Fitz (Scandal)

5. Violet/Dietfried (Violet Evergarden)

6. Daria/Trent (Daria)

7. Liza Hawkeye/Roy Mustang (Fullmetal Alchemist)

8. Gintoki/Tsukyo (Gintama)

9. Elijah/Hayley (The Originals)

10. Esther/Abel (Trinity Blood)

Now answer:

1. Remember the episode when you started shippin' couple number 6?

“Road Warriors”. Trent looked EXACTLY like my first high school crush 😛

2. Have you ever read a fanfiction about the #2?

Just ONE? C’mon are you kidding me??? Who do you think you are talking to?

3. Has a photo of 4 ever been on your screensaver/profile photo/Tumblr?

Mmmh no, not this one

4. If number 7 suddenly split today, what would be your reaction?

Well… they official never got together so… That would be good news because at least I would know that they were together at least for a while 🥲

5. Why number 1 is so important?

Firstly because it unleashed my unconditional love for David Tennant 😍 And secondly... well I report what I once read on somewhere (maybe here):

Aziraphale and Crowley somehow check all the boxes for me in terms of a perfect ship.

Forbidden Romance? You’ve got it. Friends to Lovers? Yep. Pining? Check. Mutual Pining? Double check. Idiots in love? I have not seen two dumbasses more in love. Slowburn? 6000 years. Historical Romance? Yes is an understatement. One thinks they aren’t good enough for the other, while the other is head over heels for them? Absolutely. Miscommunications leading to angst? You could’t find two individuals who are worse at communicating. Bicker like an old married couple? “Oh lord, please heal this bike”. Pet names? angel. Are very soft but also bastards? Yep.

6. Is pair number 9 funny or serious?

Serious… too much sometimes. Elijah, you needed to loosen up a bit 🙄

7. Of all the couples which one has more chemistry?

Mmmh… hard question. I’d say 1,4,9

8. Of all the couples which one has the strongest bond?

9 no doubt about that 😭

9. How many times have you read/seen things about the couple number 10?

Unfortunately there is very little material around.. 😭2-3 noteworthy fanfictions, a few dozen drawings. (Esther/Abel shippers, wherever you are, step up!)

10. Which of the ships lasted the longest?

Number 9 and 2. And number 1 of course. No one can convince me otherwise 😬

11. How many times, if any, has number 6 broke?

None! Because they were never together 😩

12. If the world were suddenly in a zombie apocalypse, which would survive between 2 and 8?

Number 8 no doubt!!!

13. Has 7 ever had to hide their relationship?

IF they were together, I would say yes. But wait! Maybe they were together and hid it too well!!! 😝

14. Is 4 still together?

It is not clear to us or to them

15. Is 10 canon?

Definitely NO

16. If all ships participated in a Hunger Game in pairs, who would win?

It would be a very tough competition between all of them.

Now I DEMAND a fanfiction about it. That would be awsome

17. Have they ever tried to sabotage couple number 5?

No need: they sabotage themselves 🙄

18. Which ship would you defend to the death and even afterwards?

Number 1

19. Did you spend hours a day going on tumblr or Ao3 for number 3?

No, never did for 3. In the end, it was the one they gave the end that made the most sense. Let them rest in peace like that.

20. If an evil witch told you to split one of the ten, who would you choose?

Then again considering the fact that they would have to be together to do that and practically none of the 10 are... I'd say I'd sacrifice four.

YOUR TURN!!!

[saibug1022]

Writing Masterlist

Link to MCs Masterlist

Blades of Light and Shadow

Walls of Regret

Tyril Starfury x MC, Mal Volari x MC, hints of Tyril x Mal Hurt/No Comfort Summary: During an encounter with Valax in the Shadow Realm, Asterin, Mal, and Tyril learn that Asterin's missing year was worse than any of them could have possibly imagined.

The Last Time

Aerin Valleros x MC Hurt/Comfort, Angst Summary: After getting injured by Valax in a fight Asterin awakens to find himself being cared for by Aerin and he can't help but think about the night they shared...and how Aerin left.

Funeral of Faith

Aerin Valleros x MC, referenced Tyril x MC and Mal x MC Angst, Hurt/No Comfort, Evil MC Summary: The Shadow Realm has a new Prince.

My Heart Won't Start Anymore

Tyril Starfury x MC x Mal Volari, references of Aerin x MC and Valax x MC Hurt/Comfort Summary: Finally, Asterin breaks. But this time he doesn't do it alone.

Love, I See You Now

Aerin Valleros x MC, reference Tyril x MC and Mal x MC Angst Summary: When Asterin gets hurt in the Battle for the Whitetower Rift, the Shadow Aerin thought he got rid of comes back in a burst of rage and fear. But it may not be enough.

Monster Made Of Memories

Word Count: 2k Characters/Relationship(s): Asterin Nightbloom (MC) x Mal Volari x Tyril Starfury, Asterin Nightbloom x Aerin Valleros Genre/Tags: Hurt/comfort, nightmare Summary: Asterin has nightmare and when woken puts a knife to Mal's throat.

No Longer You (Epic pt. 1)

Word Count: 2k Characters/Relationship(s): Asterin Nightbloom (MC) x Mal Volari x Tyril Starfury, Asterin Nightbloom x Aerin Valleros Genre/Tags: Angst, Hurt no comfort (yet), aggressive parallels Summary: After a confrontation with Nilfira the party is imprisoned on an island. But when finally freed, the rest of the party realizes Asterin was left behind.

It Lives In The Woods

Val's Resurrection Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

Lucas Thomas x MC, hints of Noah Marshall x MC

Hurt/Comfort

Summary: After years, finally, finally, Valen Ebony is saved.

It Lives Within

The Morning After

Abel Flint x MC

Fluff

Summary: A sweet little morning scene after the scene in Ch 14.

The Sun's Final Breath

Lincoln McQuoid and MC, Abel Flint x MC (background)

Angst

Summary: Castor Athantis is dead, and something is glowing in Lincoln's pocket.

Revelations

Abel Flint x MC, General

Angst

Summary: "I'm not Castor Athantis...I'm not even human."

Two Birds on a Wire

Lincoln Aquino & ILITW MC, Lincoln Aquino x ILW MC (background), Lucas Thomas x ILITW MC (background)

Fluff

Summary: After weeks of dancing around the reveal that Matthias is Val's real father, Lincoln and Val finally are forced to talk about it.

Nightbound

The Wrong Engagement

Nik Ryder x MC

Angst

Summary: Just one more morning. Alex just needed one more morning with the love of his life. One more morning before he married someone else.

Into the Wind-Verse

Link to full universe masterlist

A New Start

Magnus Bishop & Wind Velez

Summary: The story of Magnus getting recruited from unemployment in Ohio after being fired from his firm, to McGraw-Byrne.

Bad Liar

Magnus Bishop (MC) & Wind Velez

Summary: Magnus Bishop, just trying to do his work. Enter Wind Velez, here to remind Magnus he scared the shit out of his boyfriend, hadn't slept in three days, and needs some goddamn friends.

Come Morning Light

Magnus Bishop/Marcus Sharpe

Summary: Magnus is awoken when his boyfriend stirs in the night. He may not be the most adept at empathy or comforting people but for Marcus? He'll try.

Feeding Schedule

Wind Velez/Martin Vanderweil

Summary: Magnus is secretly a walking talking disaster. Wind knows this. Now he needs his boyfriend's help for a unique request.

The Breach

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

Magnus Bishop/Marcus Sharpe

Summary: In an attempt to finally put his past to bed, Magnus returns to Westchester one last time to visit the strange forcing lurking in the woods he grew up in. But little does he know, nothing with the Power is ever that simple.

Choices Sequels We Deserved

Elementalists 3

Nightbound 2

[lostloveletters]

Bruised Fruit Chapter 4 (Michael Corleone x OC)

Summary: In the Bible, Cain killed Abel, and when confronted by God responded, “Am I my brother’s keeper?” But Michael isn’t Cain, and Gloria isn’t God. She doubts he’d answer her if she were.

Note: Thank you everyone who's read the fic on here and AO3! Your support means a lot to me🖤

Warnings: Angst, canonical major character death, emotional manipulation. Sexually explicit content that involves vaginal fingering.

Do not interact if you are under 18 or post thinspo/ED content. I will block you.

Chapter 3 | AO3 Link | Masterlist

“Were you at Guadalcanal?” she had asked, his eyebrows raising in the slightest display of surprise. “I remember reading that article in Life magazine about you. My brother was there, but he won’t talk about it.”

That was the first conversation she had with Michael after Fredo’s brief introductions between them. A clumsy encounter, awkward, even, as she could tell Michael was politely tolerating her presence for his brother’s sake until she couldn’t help but bring up Guadalcanal. Suddenly, Fredo was dead, and Gloria began to suspect Michael had never truly left that island. 

She could only piece together what had transpired on Michael’s disastrous trip to Cuba. No coincidence that Fredo’s death occurred just after Hyman Roth’s assassination made the front page of The Daily News. The bell had tolled both for he and Rocco Lampone, one of Michael’s caporegimes who was shot by federal agents immediately after taking out the hit, according to the paper. 

At the same time, Gloria struggled to wrap her head around Michael ordering his own brother’s death. Perhaps it was her own attachment to Jackie, but she couldn’t imagine a situation where she’d even consider that an option. She and Jackie didn’t talk often, but they were as close as they could be considering the circumstances.

She wouldn’t have even considered the possibility if Michael hadn’t attributed Fredo’s death to drowning when he broke the news to Gloria. Though she tried not to show it, she’d taken pause at that detail. Even after a few drinks, he was a good swimmer, often hanging out at the hotel’s pool with whichever waitress of the week had caught his attention. 

Michael’s eyes widened when Gloria teared up. She’d been able to keep herself composed throughout his mother’s funeral and wake, but not knowing Carmela much at all helped that. Fredo was a better boss than other people she’d worked for in the past. She supposed she considered him a friend.

“He was always so nice, really, everyone at the hotel liked him,” she managed to mumble. “I’m so sorry, Michael. Losing your brother—I can’t even imagine.”

He reached out and caressed her cheek, her tears rolling down her face and onto his hand. He stared at her, silent for a moment. “You’re here, darling. That’s all I need.”

She took his hand from her face and kissed his palm, giving him a weak smile. His gaze was dark, dense and sprawling like the bare trees that hadn’t yet begun to bloom so early in spring. So easy to lose her way if she weren’t careful in the daytime, helplessly lost at night if she dared attempt to do so. She could see herself, so minuscule reflected in his eyes like an omen. 

Finally, she broke his gaze, wiping her eyes. He gave her a hug and a soft kiss on the cheek that lent her some warmth, allowing herself to wallow in his embrace. She sniffled, rubbing her face in his shoulder without care as to the makeup and snot that she’d surely smeared on his clothes. He shifted one hand from around her back to stroke her hair, his fingers getting caught in the microscopic tangles and stray curls she struggled to keep under control. His comfort was all she’d be offered, and she accepted it as long as he’d provide it.

Minutes passed before Michael put his hands on her shoulders, telling her in a gentle voice to take a hot bath to calm her nerves, and that he’d be just outside if she needed anything. Reluctantly, Gloria nodded, though she didn’t leave her spot, even when he was outside, instead staring at her feet, her arms wrapped around herself. She didn’t know why she suddenly felt so helpless, so morose.

Michael glanced back at the house, his young fiance no longer in view. Gloria, Latin for glory. Reminded him of attending mass as a child. Supposedly echoed by choirs of heavenly hosts in the presence of the Almighty, a being so extraordinarily divine that to gaze upon His visage would cause certain death. Until the end of time and beyond that, Gloria, Gloria, Gloria en excelsis Deo. Forever and ever. He sighed. Gloria.

She’d been so deceptively earnest in asking him about Guadalcanal when they’d first met, clumsily paired by his traitorous brother. He almost couldn’t help but humor her question, and the subsequent ones that followed, betraying her knowledge of what transpired on those nightmarish islands but a desire to understand it all the same. She had thanked him for being so honest, a striking smile on her face that made him feel like it was reserved just for him.

He couldn’t afford to let his guard down, but she had made it so difficult, pretty and wild with a gleam in her eye that made him want to indulge her despite all reason. So he indulged her question about Guadalcanal, and then almost every other request she’d made, doing so while stewing in the fact that she was yet another reminder that he was merely a man, a slave to his base desires.

Coaxing her into calling him by his first name had been a bit of a challenge. In every other circumstance, he’d expect to be addressed as ‘Mr. Corleone’. Instead, he was inexplicably frustrated by her insistence on maintaining the veneer of professionalism despite his being uncharacteristically personal with her. So, he brought those damn service medals with him all the way from New York to Nevada. Hadn’t even looked at them since he returned from his exile in Sicily. 

The banquet hall had been practically empty, save for a handful of other employees setting out utensils ahead of Johnny Fontaine’s dinner show that evening. ‘I’d like to show you these somewhere private, Gloria. They’re very personal to me,’ he’d said, his voice low so only she could hear. 

She gave him that same striking smile when she agreed to go up to his room with him. He wasn’t a man many people said ‘no’ to, and she wasn’t a woman who said ‘no’ to many men. A morbid part of him wanted her to, just to see what would happen, test his already dwindling self-control. He could feel it slipping from between fingers when the door clicked shut, wondering how she could be so calm, alone in a room with a married man. Either she’d done so countless times before or hadn’t been expecting him to fold. Probably both.

Her fingers had brushed his World War II Victory Medal, then his Asiatic-Pacific Campaign Medal, then, while he described how he earned his Navy Cross, she finally uttered his name in a raspy lilt. Michael sounded almost foreign coming from her lips, part of this secret they were sharing—hotel rooms and service medals and first names. As soon as she pinned the Purple Heart to his lapel, her manicured hand lingering on his chest for just a moment, his ego howled for a taste of blood. Tiger, she called him, lurking in the dense jungle, fiery eyes stalking his fox-prey as she chased pleasure without a thought for him until he pounced, and, in turn, consumed her, razor-sharp maw dripping with her passion.

Hearing about her other dalliances, never from her but always in passing, made him silently seethe with a raging possession he knew he had no right to feel, but did nevertheless. She had clearly assumed that he would be a quick and casual fling like every other man she saw. He resented those men not just for their proximity to her, but at the ease with which they seemed to be able to cut things off with her. Every time he told himself a visit would be the last, he’d habitually slink back to her in the still of the night. He supposed giving in to those instincts served some purpose higher than simply giving in to desire. If he hadn’t, he would have been alone, without hope for another son.

Little else good had come from his family’s tenure in Nevada, and upon receiving confirmation from Tom of Frank Pentangeli’s suicide, had quickly come to the conclusion that they could get a chance at yet another fresh start in New York. Besides, with the newly created vacuum of power there in light of Roth’s and Pentangeli’s deaths, he needed to move in quickly to maintain control.

Gloria sat in the bathtub, watching her fingers prune beneath the foggy surface. She had run it scalding, tears streaming down her face as she allowed the hot, perfumed water to engulf her. When it had cooled enough to not be painful to the touch, she splashed some on her face. A knock at the door caught her attention.

“Gloria? It’s me.”

“Come in.”

Michael opened the door as narrowly as he could to slip inside, not wanting to chance anyone catching a glimpse of Gloria in her state of undress despite the bathroom being in the master bedroom, which few people were allowed in, anyway. He watched as she pulled her knees to her chest, looking at him expectantly. His shirt sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, tie nowhere to be found as the first two buttons of his shirt were undone. He looked almost as disheveled as he did that night he appeared at her apartment.

“I decided it would be good for the family to move back to New York,” he said, sitting on the edge of the tub, his fingers grazing the top of the warm, sudsy water. “I’m going to make an offer on my childhood home tomorrow. It should close by the end of the week.”

“Long Beach, right? That’s pretty close to my parents. They’ll be glad,” she said. “Did the people who lived there say why they were selling?”

“An old associate of my father’s lived there, but he died recently. His widow put it up for sale. Doesn’t need such a big place anymore.”

“Wow, between your friend, Fredo, and your mother…it comes in threes, that’s what my dad always says.”

She knew when his thin-lipped smile didn’t quite reach his eyes, it wasn’t so simple.

“Things will be different in New York. Quieter, not as much trouble,” he said.

“So you’re leaving me here?��

He snickered, his smile more genuine as the corners of his eyes crinkled. “I said not as much.”

“I see,” she said, shifting in the tub, her bare breasts peeking from beneath the water, and she gasped as the cool air brushed her sensitive skin. She noticed his eyes on her chest. “You just here to look, or are you trying to go for a dive, tiger?” she asked, her laugh light and airy until his hand dipped beneath the water to squeeze one of her breasts.

“Something like that,” he muttered, gently tugging her nipple before doing the same to her other breast.

There they were again, those eyes like woods she’d lose herself in. This time, she did so willingly as he drew her in with his touch, his arm submerged in the bath water as he slipped his fingers between her folds, watching as she gripped the edge of the bathtub. She lifted her hips, rolling them slightly as she felt his fingers fill her. 

“Michael—fuck,” she groaned when his thumb brushed her clit. “I need more.”

The sensation was odd, for all they’d done in the past, bathtubs had never been involved. Pools and showers, yes, but perhaps they’d both wordlessly come to the conclusion that something about a bath was far too intimate. She could understand why in that specific situation, something inherently erotic about him being fully clothed while she was quite the opposite, exposed and easily accessible for him.

With a curl of his fingers, a loud moan echoed through the tiled room. No one would hear her anyway. As she flexed her legs, calves burning ever so slightly, she tried digging her nails into the porcelain tub, breaking one with the force she used to grip the sides of it. 

“Don’t tease me,” she growled, voice low and husky in her frustration. 

Her eyes met his again, and she was something wild in that forest, a woman-beast with no regard for civility, instead venturing deeper in search of pleasure. It was how Michael had lured her in, carefully domesticating her before she could realize what he’d done. Her body jerked as she felt her orgasm building up inside her, splashing water onto the floor from her sudden movement.

His shirt sleeve had rolled down, drenched despite his efforts, but he didn’t let up, his eyes fixed on her as he felt her pussy clench around his fingers as he worked them inside her, his thumb unforgiving on her clit. Her legs shook as she came, toes curling as more water splashed out of the tub. 

“Oh my god,” she moaned. “Fucking—keep going.”

Her eyes squeezed shut, and a haze overtook her mind as she rocked back and forth against his hand. So engrossed in her second orgasm wracking through her body like an earthquake, she almost forgot he was even there, instead this disembodied figure that existed only to make her cum. If only. 

She shook as the aftershocks of pleasure rolled through her, eyes wild as they opened again, fixed on the man before her, so composed compared to how she’d come apart. 

He pulled his arm from the water, grabbing her nearby towel and drying his hand off with it. Her knuckles were white when she released her grip on the side of the tub, chest heaving as she ran her fingers through her messy, half-dry hair. 

She attempted to push herself up from the tub, and he quickly wrapped his arms around her torso, supporting her as she climbed out on unsteady legs.

“Your shirt—“

“I don’t care,” he said, wrapping the towel around her. “I’ve got others. How are you feeling?”

“Good, really good.”

He lifted her hand, inspecting her broken red-painted nail. “You sure?”

She snickered. “Yeah, I’m sure.”

As she dried herself off, he leaned against the counter, watching her. For a moment, it felt like they were in the hotel room again, no obligations or strings attached, and something inside her ached for that time. She’d always enjoyed it, but she wouldn’t have taken it for granted if she’d known what four years of it would have led up to. 

She grabbed her brush from the counter, combing the knots out of her damp hair. 

“Where do you want to honeymoon?” he asked suddenly.

“I don’t know,” she said, hissing softly as she painfully snagged a knot. “The Hamptons would be nice.”

“Not very exotic.”

“Well it’s not exactly about sight-seeing, is it?”

She could be a tourist any time she wanted, but when else would she have a week where having sex was not only expected, but encouraged? Even in school, she wasn’t one for museums or monuments, finding books far more engaging than the watered down information presented to them. As the likelihood of a summer wedding was rapidly increasing, the last thing she wanted was to walk around looking at ruins or statues in sweltering heat, hardly having the energy to do much else by the end of the day.

“I wouldn’t know.”

Gloria turned to him, her eyes wide. “What?”

He smiled the slightest bit at her shock. “Kay and I married in a small ceremony in New England, and then we went back to Long Island. We didn’t honeymoon.”

“But that’s the best part.”

“You’ll get your honeymoon, I promise.” He wrapped his arms around her bare torso from behind, his chin resting on her shoulder. “So, the Hamptons? Beachfront, secluded–”

“Very secluded,” she emphasized as he kissed her cheek.

Her dreams that night had troubling vividity in which she couldn’t tell whether she was asleep or awake as realistic scenarios warped outlandishly. People’s faces shifted into others, desperately trying to tell her something but unintelligible nonetheless. She woke up in a cold sweat, Michael sleeping soundly beside her. Damn. It was her turn to be the insomniac. 

As quietly as she could, she got out of bed, sliding her feet into her slippers and padding across the carpeted floor, hoping she wouldn’t wake him up. She slipped out the door and made her way into the living room, turning on a lamp for the slightest bit of light. Shuffling into the kitchen, she made herself a rum and coke, trying to remember something from her dreams, but came up with nothing comprehensible.

She wandered back into the living room, turning on the radio that was almost always set to the local rock n’ roll station since she’d been there. The volume of the music was low, but she could still make out the sounds of the familiar songs as she sipped her drink.

“Glo?” a small voice whispered. “I can’t sleep.”

The kids had taken to calling her that, less formal than Gloria without forcing them to call a woman they hardly knew a derivative of mom. 

Anthony emerged from the dark hallway, a teddy bear tucked beneath his arm.

“Me either, kiddo,” Gloria said. “Are you hungry? I can make you a snack.”

The boy shook his head, instead walking into the living room and sitting next to her on the floor. Despite effectively moving into the house, Gloria had hardly interacted with Anthony, though that was almost exclusively his choice. She couldn’t blame him. She still thought it was too soon for her to be living there, but after Carmela’s death, Michael practically insisted.

“Do you know why everyone’s leaving? Daddy says mommy did something bad, but I think he’s lying,” he said. “He lies a lot.”

Gloria let out a shaky breath as she tried to figure how to answer such a loaded question. “He doesn’t tell me much, but I don’t–your mother isn’t a bad person, Anthony. She was just very sad.”

“Was uncle Fredo sad, too?”

“I think so. When you become an adult, you’re not supposed to talk about things like that, and some people have a harder time with it than others,” she explained. “They feel very alone, and they do things they might not normally do because they don’t know how else to ask for help.”

“That’s not fair.”

“No, it isn’t. I don’t think things should be that way.”

Gloria knew what Kay did, and though she wasn’t sure if she herself could go through with having an abortion, she certainly wouldn’t condemn a woman’s desperation. Still, she wondered what Fredo had done to be iced out by Michael. She felt almost guilty for considering Michael had something to do with his brother’s death, fratricide was certainly no weightless accusation. Then again, even if she confronted him with it, would he tell her the truth? 

For four years, she had to face the horrifying reality of nearly losing her own brother. She wondered about the worry Michael’s family felt when he was fighting overseas. From what she understood, they hadn’t been very supportive of him joining the Marines in the first place. He had told her that the only person who congratulated him was Fredo, and the only people who regularly sent him letters were his brother, his mother, and Kay, all no longer in his life in some way.

“I’m going back to sleep now,” Anthony said.

She nodded. “Good night.”

He disappeared back down the hallway.

When she heard a door close, she threw back the rest of her rum and coke before making herself another. Some teeny-bopper’s twangy voice faintly played out over the radio, singing his song about heartbreak. The station always played the moodier songs at night, giving way to the teenagers who sounded like lovesick ghosts that haunted the airwaves. “I’m crying,” they’d wail. “My baby left me.” Few said it better than Elvis, “You’ll feel so lonesome, you could die.”

The song shifted to Ricky Nelson’s ‘Lonesome Town’. Despite his talent, she always found it funny, the California boy putting on an accent to sell records. But people put on acts all the time, different masks depending on the scene. She thought back to earlier in the bathroom, and wondered if Michael’s sudden display of intimacy was calculated on his part. His question about the honeymoon had certainly taken her by surprise, enough so that for a few hours, she didn’t think much about the implications of his brother’s death or try to talk to him about it again.

She squeezed the glass in her hand, enraged at the thought of him playing with her emotions while she was in such a vulnerable state, but more than that, angry at herself for falling for it.

[ask-harry-fitzgerald]

Harry angst and hurt/comfort with moon <3

this is sorta an alternate version of a scene where I rewrote it to flow more as a narrative rather than a dialogue

also you guys get to see Harry having a mental breakdown in detail!!

Harry couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t see. Too much was happening, today had been a nightmare.

That… strange model (was it a bootleg? Some kind of knock off? Homemade? Just some unused prototype? He wasn’t sure.) had asked him for a reset, which he had willingly provided but-

But something went wrong. Not in the reset, chip was fine. Rather, something had gone wrong in him.

It had started with an off-hand comment, “attachments can ruin a business!” Sound advice, but not one he had wanted his partner hearing. Joe had gotten upset, and to be honest, Harry had done a pretty shoddy job at defending himself, “it’s unprofessional”? What was he thinking saying that? But whats done was done. Joe had stormed off, and Harry had done his best to pretend he didn’t care.

Next was Steven, Harry’s son, one of the people he cared about the most, had come in, more distant than usual, asking after “Chip”

Harry had told him what had happened and Steven had seemed unhappy with him. And then Harry had really fucked up. He had called Steven by his model number, 14-02, instead of his name.

He had recognized the mistake immediately, of course, and corrected himself, but the damage had been done. He had pushed the people he cared about away, again. 

Maybe he deserved that. After everything, after what he had done to Steven.

Maybe Abel would finally be proud of him. He had never liked Harry getting attached to anyone but himself.

He never liked Harry in general, just Scott. There was  a reason he had wiped Harry’s memory, replaced it with thoughts that weren’t his own.

God, maybe that chip kid had the right idea, maybe he should get himself reset

Or better yet, scrapped, let some newer phone take charge of his role in the company, like Steven.

Steven was so much better than him. Harry was the just prototype, Steven was the 02 model, the perfected ai

The perfected manager

But it wasn’t like it was that hard when you had Harry as competition. Joe was a good manager in his own right, but compared to Harry? He was great, hell, Abel looked good when compared to Harry, even that stupid green model Jack had brought in, the one with the faulty voice box and unreliable memory, even he would be better suited compared to harry. 

His breathing hitched, and he felt something on his face. He brought his hand up, and when he pulled it away, it was warm and wet.

Was he crying? God, how unprofessional of him, he hadn’t cried since Joe’s funeral.

Someone tapped him on the shoulder, and he jumped, whirling around to see… someone?

Joe told him he had shoddy vision as a human, and he supposed that carried over to a phone, but he could make out a pale blue color, someone shorter than him and-

“Moon?”

He hated how hoarse and shaky his voice came out, he sounded like he had been crying.

He had been crying, right.

Moon put xis hand up to Harry’s face, cradling the side of his phone softy.

“Hey, Harry, what happened? Are you ok?”

He began to speak, to reassure his loved one, the only one who hadn’t left him yet, to deny anything xe might’ve heard, but all that came out was a strangled sob

“Oh.. would you like a hug at least, sweetheart? i may not know whats happening, but id still like to be here for you.”

Harry move forward, his movements jerky and unsteady as he wrapped his arms around his partner’s shoulders, holding xem close to himself 

“I’ve messed everything up, I’m so, so sorry”

Moon wrapped xis arms around Harry’s waist as he cried into moon’s shoulder, sobs wracking his body.

“something is wrong with me-

I’m bad at being a manager, I’m bad at being a father, I’m bad at being a partner-

Joe thinks I’m shitty, Steven hates me- I’m sure Jack would be disappointed, a-and I don’t even KNOW that chip kid, and I’ve ruined his life too!”

Moon inhaled softly, holding Harry against xem as Harry cried

“Oh no, my dear, you were kind as a manager, sweet as a partner, and steven caring enough to want you to be better is proof you were good as a father too. you just spiraled. which im familiar with myself. its difficult. i know. but you can balance work and relationships. i promise you getting attached doesnt make you weak. having relationships isnt bad for business. you just need to find out how to balance the two.”

Harry took a shaky gasping breath against moon, still speaking against xis shoulder 

“I’m so sorry… please don’t leave me.”

Xe tightened xis grip on Harry, xis tail winding around Harrys leg

“I won’t ever leave you, unless you want me to.”

With that, Harry began to cry in earnest again, holding xem like he was afraid xe would disappear if he let go.

Moon gently soothed him, petting the phones back gently as his sobs turned to shakes, and his shakes turned to holding moon like a lifeline and trembling 

Harry lifted his head, his dial meeting where xis eyes would be.

“I’m really not supposed to get attached but-“

He took a shaky breath, letting to words pour out of him

“-I love you moon.”

@beingofthestars hiiii

[lover-girl-estxx]

Fluff, Nick/Nate thinking they are a bad father.

Honey

Nate Diaz x Reader (N31 R31)

Fluff with sadness I won't say angst

"Dad?" Abel said from the dining table while his dad went around the kitchen getting food ready for his gym "yeah?" He asked the 6 year old "are you gonna come to classroom night?" Nate looked at me, I was holding a 2 year old Nova "remember I told you the other day, he shows us his new classroom at 3:30" he nodded "yeah I'll be there" "story?" Nova asked "and I'll be back for your story love" he smiled and kissed her head "bye mamas" he kissed me "bye baby" I smiled "you're leaving already?" Abel asked "yeah buddy, I'll see you after school," he kissed his head "love you guys!" He yelled opening the front door "Love you!".

"bubba?" I said as I drove him to school "yes?" Abel replied "I don't want you to get your hopes up about dad coming-" "I know he has a fight soon" "no matter what know he's trying" "I do!" "K you want me to walk you in?" "No mom I'm too old for that" he said getting out "oh okay love you" "love you!" I watch him run into school "alright Nova you want to go shopping?" I said looking at her smiling through the mirror she nodded "can I have a cakepop?" I nodded .

We went shopping for a bit then hung out at home for a while till I made Abel food to take to him. "Mommy!" I heard Nova yell as she ran into the kitchen "can I change my shirt? I want to wear one of dads shirts" she held up a represent shirt "yeah baby of course" "okay!" She smiled going to change.

Y: heading to his school now..lmk if you can't make it 🖤

Abel ran up and hugged me "hi bubba" I smiled and hugged him back "come on I'll show you where we can eat" he said grabbing my hand. "Where's your dad?" The boy across from us asked "he's training!" Abel said then took a bite "training?" "Yeah! My dad's a UFC fighter he has a fight with this guy named Conner soon!" He smiled "really?!" "Yeah my uncles a fighter too!" I smiled as Abel went on about his dad.

We left at about 6 still nothing from Nate. When we got home the kids showered "is daddy gonna read me a story?" Nova asked while I dressed her "not tonight he's working pretty late...but we can watch a movie" "okay!" She smiled, we started a movie on the couch, them both curled into me.

Mr. Diaz 🖤: shit baby I'm sorry I forgot to check the time after I started sparring. Is Abel upset? 8:30

Y: it's okay love, Abel isn't upset he understands 🖤

Mr. Diaz 🖤: okay omw home rn

Y:k see you soon

I looked down and both of them were asleep, I stood and picked Nova up first laying her in her bed kissing her head. Then I picked up Abel he wrapped his arms tighter around and side, I laid him in bed " good night bubba " "night" I kissed his head before softly shutting the door, just as the front one opens.

"hey baby" I softly smiled and kissed him "hi" I took his gym bag from his hand "I'll heat up dinner for you" he nodded kissing my head "I'm gonna shower really quick" "okay Love" i pecked his lips. "Thank you" he said as I sat food in front of him. "how was your day?" I sat across from him, he shook his head "it wasn't very good" "you want to talk about it?" He shook his head "Honey," He pushed his plate aside leaning forward "what's wrong?" Reaching over putting my hand on his hand "I'm really bad at this" his voice broke "what?" I gave a confused look "at being a dad" he sighed putting his hand on his face "hey.." I went over to him taking his face off his face, he shrugged his shoulder and bit his lip "you're the best father I know... what are you talking about?" I rubbed his arm "I make them promise I can't keep , I'm always gone..I mean they have to feel away about it-" "they love you more than anything all Abel did was talk about how cool it was for his dad to be a fighter. Every minute you have you're with them, there's nothing Nova loves more than going to the gym with you" "I don't know" "I'm telling you," I smiled and kissed his head "you're an absolutely amazing husband". He laid on my chest as we went to bed "I love you Nathaniel" I kissed his head while I rubbed his shirtless back "I love you Y/n".

"Daddy?" We heard a half asleep Nora say "yeah?" Nate said and put his arms out for her "can I sleep in here?" I nodded and pulled her to his chest, her small fingers ran over the scars on his face "wov you" he smiled and pulled her in close "love you babygirl" he kissed her head.

[itlivesproject]

Big long message coming from someone who binged the whole game in two days:

1. Whoever wrote the Abel route deserves to get all the good things in life. His bright and warm personality and natural quirkiness tugged at my heartstrings and I just knew I wanted my MC to stick by him. It's no wonder so many peeps loved his route-- he was super fleshed out and he takes a new spin on the nerd LI archetype. Not to mention, his past with his family is bittersweet, yet it was never used for shock value. It was evident how these experiences affected his character and how he interacts with others, and it never fails to radiate how genuine he is and how much reality was inspired in his making.

(Also that last sex with him was so detailed, raw, passionate, and personal. Everything is scorched on my front lobe and I will nevrr forget it.mE.A. James could never.)

I can feel the good writing for all routes and the whole narrative in general even if I didn't pick them as LIs. The talent of the writing team always oozes, and I can never stop reading. I might retry other routes and I will do that after recovering from the psychic damage I acquired crying and laughing with this story.

2. From what I've read on the net so far, the Mixed Ending was the most well-liked ending, but I beg to digress because I am selfish and delusional and I just want my MC to rest, ok? 😔 I personally favored the successful non-betrayal blood ending.

The consequences of the ending are much more direct than that of the mixed ending and at least it was easier to cope with it because MC still has their support group, but I just really love the closure it provided that my gen!MC (ironic, I know) stayed true to what she wanted, which was to continue the life that was frozen over since the incident. Shadow Ending is honestly the most selfless and poetic ending that gave me crippling depression and I loved its angst. The Mixed Ending was my least favorite because it was the most open-ended one, and I felt unsettled by it because I felt the least secure for my MC's future, esp with their LI. I still have to play through Matthias' route but it's really promising.

3. I can't help but have my curiosity piqued by how everything played out with a similar pattern to how colonisers always end up messing up and undoing the progress of indigenous people's learnings and practices, and their utter disrespect for nature which ultimately blows up in their face but unfortunately, it's those that try to save it that suffer the most. The subtle incorporation of this theme was the perfect piece that really tied together the past of all It Lives book. Loha and Matthias were the perfect characters to resemble this struggle.

What lingers in my mind, however, is that Loha and Matthias, as individuals, are the two sides of the same coin. Both characters have personal strong connections to the Power, have personal gains and goals for it, used, manipulated and forced people to assist them in their cause, and ultimately birthed a person that was meant to be the key to finish their mission.

Though it was true that what Loha did was for the common good vs. Matthias' hedonistic and self-centered purposes, I think Loha is no better than Matthias, (Sorry, guys. I know some of you might fight me.) and I think it is equally hypocritical of Loha to ask MC to lay down her life to heal the breach and feel disappointed when MC doesn't do as she says.

She shared herself how a wisp was so curious of life on Earth that this innocent venture eventually bloomed into all this, so she knew that to an extent, even if the Shadow Ending occurs, it might happen again so long as the Power has free will to choose and explore. Maybe that's why I like the Blood Ending so much, I don't see a point to all the MC's (esp. ILW) suffering so much when they are mortals constantly being tested by a higher power. I think it was best to share the labor for everyone to maintain than just place the burden on one person. (My MC worked her ass off to charm Abel's pants off I simply can't let her down 😔)

4. The team is so resourceful with reusing, mixing, and adding visual assets to the game. Seeing the familiar layout and mechanics such as reusing minor characters really established the familiar Choices foundation of the game, but the impressively added illustrations, wide array of sprite personalization, the unique and diverse character designs, and even the title screens was truly the marks that made this an excellent fanwork. It manages to really immerse the reader and I can never, ever get enough of it.

5. In relation to 4, the programming of the game is superb. There is sensible weight and effects to choices, LIs are equally balanced and don't overpower the narrative, the godsent SAVES, the carefully considered rewards and consequences of all decisions and just everything about the system has made me question all that Choices has done since forever. How can a nonprofit fan team make such a complex system with such delicacy and thought that a multimillion dollar company simply cannot? You raised the bar higher for what interactive stories should look like. THIS is how interactive stories should be, and thanks to the user-friendly programming, the replay value is very high.

These are all I can say off the top of my head and I will always be grateful for this work you've shared to us. This is the most passionate passion project I've had the honor of experiencing, and I wish you all the best in your future endeavors. Should your endeavors include another interactive story (Painted Devils can't come soon enough, please just take my money!), I will be most eager to take part in it.

Sorry if this was long!

(P.S.: Abel mentioned about having people over with his shirt on. *What's his body count?* 🤭☺️)

Thank you for sending this in and sharing your thoughts!! I'm so glad that the game was so meaningful for you <3

[runner5anna]

Hello Hello!!!

My ZR obsession is back in full force and I want to consume as much as I can about other's Five and Abel head cannons :)

For the ZR ask meme you just posted could you do 8, 18, and 22 please and thank you, you can choose which characters you share the info for xx

Haiiii I am so happy your ZR obsession is back in full force because same here <33 I am going to do my runner 5 my lovely Johanna because I can

8. Bad memories/experiences

ANGST ANGST ANGST! There is a few. Poor 5. I think canon is as a lot of bad experiences to be honest. :( I have forced a lot of issues on my poor 5.

She prefers cats so much as an adult is because she had a bad experience with a dog at Mullins. So she is cats all the way.

Sam tries to get her to he friends with Bonnie the dog and that’s about as far as he’s got with ‘make 5 friends with dog so I can get dog’ mission he has. 5 will sit with bonnie and pet bonnie, but does not like to spend more than a few hours with her.

5 had ended up having to put down her own zombie brother - Adam James Taylor. It was her second zombie kill. That was a pretty big bad experience.

18. Things they’ll never admit

Johanna will never admit that she did not want to be a runner, and that she bloody hates team sports. She’s been terrible at sports for ages. She would much rather sit quietly than put up with the noise and the heat. In primary school she used to hide at the back of the line on sports day so she didn’t have to compete. She used to skip sports day simply because she hated it. PE was her personal hell. She👏🏼does👏🏼not👏🏼like👏🏼sports👏🏼

She accepts running as a solo sports. It’s the one sport she enjoys, and she often aims to only do it on her own. This is the only acceptation to her ‘I hate sports’ rule. In her own eyes, she would have much rather stuck with her nursery job that she had as a teenager. She prefers gentle walks in the forest and yoga for sports.

In another time line - Anna becomes a paediatric doctor at Abel to help take the pressure off of Maxine.

22. People who’ve influenced them greatly

Sara Smith! The lovely lady herself.

Sara smith trained 5 in self defence, using weapons, generally being a badass, and not wanting to cry as soon as she leaves the house/her tent. 5 is like a duckling following Sara around. She’s imprinted on her.

Paula Cohen my beloved. Paula explained to 5 that bisexuality was a thing making 5 very shocked that the only options where not just gay or straight. Also they are minecraft besties.

Also Lobatse!! Lobatse was the one that said ‘I think you have autism’ and making 5 go ‘no I don’t what you on about.’ And then on second thought go ‘oh shit no she right.’ So thank goodness for Lobatse my beloved <3

[llondonfog]

Help I didn't know you can ask multiple times at once 😭 so: 🎵,🌙,💌,🔮

🎵 Last song you listened to?

illusion - vnv nation because sometimes you just need some good old fashioned angst flavored vibes to help round out a drabble :')

🌙 How long have you been on tumblr?

stares into the fucking abyss,,, since december 2012 :') i've rped in a few fandoms: rotg (jack frost), starfighter (abel), star wars (luke skywalker), no.6 (shion), & bsd (atsushi) so if you play in those spaces, you might have stumbled into me before :') (there's also a joke somewhere in there about the specific character i tend to heavily associate with, and silver is no exception lol) i quit tumblr rp bc of the drama and time commitment i couldn't give anymore, and now i'm much happier with my few writing partners on discord and just providing fic instead <3

🔮 What’s your dream job?

i can honestly say that i'm in it! i like being in control, managing things, and seeing a plan come to fruition successfully underneath me, so being a project manager is perfectly suited for that haha it also doesn't bind me to any one specific industry so i can take my skills to a completely different venture if i end up getting bored of what i currently do.

[amtrak12]

Ooph, calling my current fic struggles “middle book syndrome” is just... Too Accurate. I don’t like it. I don’t want it to feel like a middle book! I want it to be a good story!

Though, I do understand that the true purpose of Books 2 and 3 are to entertain the readers who aren’t ready to leave my world behind. Because Book 1 honestly can stand entirely on its own! I don’t need sequels! I designed it that way on purpose because I have the epilogue of toddler Rory returning home to a changed timeline so the reader knows the happy ending. What they don’t know is how we got there. They don’t need to know that. It really doesn’t matter. But I thought it would be fun to explore Lucifer and Chloe taking the long way to meet back up with their daughter, because the last we see of S3 Lucifer and Chloe is them grief-stricken over saying goodbye to their daughter.

And by god I want to explore that grief. This isn’t like canon where Chloe is already pregnant with Rory when they say goodbye to their adult daughter. This is S3. It’s going to be years before they see her again. YEARS. They had their toddler daughter for two months! They were fully adjusted to being coparents and now their daughter is just -- gone. I want to eat that angst with a spoon like it’s ice cream with chocolate syrup and rainbow sprinkles. It’s fucking delicious!

There’s also the fun awkwardness of them still not being a romantic couple but they know they’re going to have a daughter in the future. That’s not going to put any weird pressure on them that will mess with their heads! :P And I want to explore that too, so that’s the other purpose of the sequels. Just allowing me to continue playing in this universe. It is purely self-indulgent for both me and the readers.

Doesn’t mean I want it to suffer middle book syndrome, though. I do think the grief exploration will make it compelling enough to not feel like a middle book. The real problem comes from incorporating the S4 plot into this. Sure I could ignore it, obviously. But I’ve decided I do want Lucifer to have to go back to Hell for a bit, because I absolutely adore the idea of Book 3 opening with it being a year exactly before Rory is meant to be born, and Lucifer’s not on Earth. That sounds delicious and is perfect given that the final scene of the series will be Chloe learning she’s pregnant. Now the main plot of Book 3 is them trying to confirm the timeline has been changed because they both want to ensure Lucifer will be there to raise Rory. They have no idea the timeline has already changed. All they know is the few things Rory mentioned have all happened. So they focus on stopping the one thing that hasn’t happened yet: Dan’s death. (Hence the title: Save the Douche, Save the World.) (The readers will already know Dan lives thanks to Book 1′s epilogue but that’s not the point. The point is the characters don’t know that.)

So, yeah I need the demon invasion still and I’m actually good with keeping the rabid priest and his prophecy because I’m moving up Chloe learning she’s a gift from God to the S4 era in this series, and prophecies mesh well with free will struggles from a thematic standpoint. Eve comes back to Earth for this too. Her storyline will obviously go differently from canon but I’m not sure exactly what journey it takes yet. So that’s some of the cloudiness I’m dealing with. I also want to foreshadow Michael’s push to become God, but it is going to stay at foreshadowing. I thought about pulling him into a more active role early, but I’ve ruled that out now.

... Though if I’m having Abel be the first soul to make it from Hell to Heaven... and that’s happening in Book 1.... Maybe I don’t need a demon invasion to pull Lucifer back to Hell....

Okay thank you everyone for letting me talk to thin air! I now have something productive to think about! :D

[madness-of-void]

IT IS TIME

I said I was going to be 'annoying' about the fic I am writing once I got home from work. Well, I am home from wooooork.

I'm gonna ramble a little, so it'll all be put under a read more. I'll be kinda vague with some things, but I'm also gonna indulge a little coz I was not lying when I said I am fucking excited for this fic.

Anyways...here. We. Go!

It's a series! That's right. A series. Was it planned? Fuck no! Originally, it was only going to be this one chaptered fic. But then I had this idea to make a little prologue for a certain duo. Then I had this idea for 8 shorter fics. And THEN I had the idea for a second chaptered fic. *sigh* Yeah. I did that to myself.

There is a rough outline and other notes for the first fic in the series, but I am still flying by the seat of my pants with this one, folks. And some things I planned? Looks like they aren't happening! Things I didn't plan! They're happening! I have no control of these little shits, and I am okay with that. Kinda work better that way.

It is UTMV! Yaaay! I was a little apprehensive at first about diving myself into fic writing for this fandom, especially since I haven't written anything since 2020 and I have seen some people get a little butthurt about people not "writing these characters right". But you know what? I don't care. I have seen good fics/artwork with canon depictions, fanon depictions, and mixtures of both. There's a bunch of cakes out there to devour! Might as well throw mine out there!

Finally have a title! The series is called Reunion in Chains (RIC for short). The first chaptered fic is called Immured. The rest...are surprises. >:3

At the end of each chapter, I'll have a little author's notes that will be kind of like a behind the scenes type of deal. Fun little extra tid bits, if you will. Which I have never done before. Kinda excited about it, too.

Currently working on Chapter 4, which is being a royal beast. It's so far the longest chapter. Though, if the pattern of each chapter being longer than the last continues, it'll lose it's crown real soon.

How long will it be in total? No clue! Again, I'm just winging this bitch! Though I do have up to 6 chapters titled! Yippee!

There will be 4 ships in total: 1 that is mentioned real quick, 1 that is a secret until around chapter 6 or 7, 1 that is established before the start of the fic and is hinted at until it is outright said at a certain chapter (I am vibrating in anticipation to get to that point), and 1 that is slowly happening throughout in a more subtle way.

Possible rating will be M. Mostly for swearing, threats of violence (mostly physical, but there will be vague sexual ones as well), actual violence, mentions of past abuse, blood, and electrical punishment (you'll understand in due time).

I created 6 OCs specifically for the first fic that are fleshed out and have names! They are:

Ruperto - Human (he/him)

Taran - Spider monster (they/them)

Franciszka "Franny - Bunny monster (she/her)

Lilium - Flowey variant (he/him)

Abel - Dog monster (he/him)

Mimsy - Cat monster (they/them)

There are other random background kind of OCs that will be mentioned, but they are so minor that all they have is a description. No names. For now.

Lilium is my favorite to write so far. He is a fucking shithead and I love him!

There will be 2 additional OCs (that I know of thus far) that'll be created for the series, though they are going to be in the second chaptered fic. So no development yet.

Immured will be in Dream's POV! Which, not gonna lie, has been fun to do. Boy has a lot of angst potential, and I am running with it!

This includes having 1 dream that is a flashback, and 1 that mixes up a flashback and internal guilt. And plenty silent mentions of the incident.

Fun fact: There will be a lot of strikethrough in several chapters. This is very intentional! Let's see if anyone can figure out the reason why.

Error, by far, is the hardest one for my to write! I wanted to try to show his stuttering/glitches...but that is not easy to do. Sometimes I'm like "oh god, this is too much, I might have to fix this later", and other times it's "yeeeees I love how that looks, it's perfect". We shall see how it all ends up in the end after the millionth edit. (I have edited these chapters so much in the middle of writing, you have no idea.)

Ink is also so goddamned hard to write! Mostly because I want to write him as a silly little guy instead of someone reacting to the really shitty situation everyone had found themselves in, as well as having to turn off le emotions. For really important reasons. Promise.

Spoiler: Yes. Dream and Nightmare do make-up. Because I want them to. Badly.

Nightmare is also fun to write! Especially when I get to make him a sassy bastard.

Dream and Dust future smoking buddies? More likely than you think.

People underestimating Dream because he's the Guardian of Positivity and therefore there is no way he would be capable of hurting someone? 😏

Little sprinkles of a different take of the OG apple incident, with a full exploration in one of the side fics where the twins have a long, proper talk? 😏😏

The pre-Immured ship being absolutely cute here and there? And being that much more cute in their relationship 'prologue' fic, their side fic, and in the second chaptered fic? 😏😏😏

Dream and Nightmare having specifically adorable nicknames they used for each other when they were kids and they start using again as adults? 😏😏😏😏

And that's it! Though, before I end this rambling mess that I had to indulge myself in...I thought I'd leave some of my favorite snippets. I won't leave any context nor where they're at in the story. Enjoy!

Dream perked up, sockets wide and golden tears threatening to spill. Staring back with familiar shyness, Nightmare continued to whistle. As if he was waiting for Dream to resume the song. So he did. The twins spun the songs they used to hear at their tree – knowing their parts as if they had only performed it yesterday. Pure happiness squeezed within Dream's chest, ready to choke the air right out of him at any given second. It was nothing huge or life changing. Truly insignificant to anyone witnessing. But to Dream? It meant everything.

“Uh, excuse you? Nothing about me is straight. Dunno why you would think my priorities would be. And having nom-noms is a great priority! Right, H?”

But his face...oh god, his face. It was always different somehow in the way it was obscured, reminding him that he couldn't remember his twin's fucking face .

Nightmare scoffed right back – grin stretching wide and venomous. “Is that so? Well, why don't you enter my cage and see how big my bite is? I promise...I will leave some flesh attached, youngling.”

“So! Does anyone have any ideas? We can spitball! No idea is stupid!”

Taking it as a challenge, Killer smirked and casually sprawled out on the floor. “We can try to seduce them?”

“Except that one! That one is pretty stupid.”

And Dream began to wail.

Wail like the little boy who lost everything centuries ago.

[bunnyluvx]

terms of service. ♡

commission status: open! see slots and waitlist on my pinned post. ♡

i will start by saying that anything that i will write, i will be taking my time with to the best of my ability. i have a bad tendency to overwork myself to the point of burnout, and since writing is my biggest passion, i really don't want to overwork myself with this page. so, whatever requests or commissions will be sent my way, will be done on my time. i also have a life outside of tumblr that i need to maintain. hobbies i like to do, friends i like to spend time with, physical and mental health to maintain, etc. i ask that everyone who sends me requests or commissions is understanding of that.

i have the right to refuse service. if i do not want to write something, then i do not have to.

this is a sfw blog. there will be no suggestive or nsfw content on here at all. if that is what you are looking for, then i am not the person to ask.

the reader will ALWAYS be gender-neutral without a mentioned sex unless otherwise specified. if you want any sex or gender-specific reader, then please say so.

i mainly thrive with romantic pairings and find myself most interested in writing those, so that will be a lot of the content that you will be seeing here. but of course, if you request otherwise, i will do what i can to deliver! i am open to writing any types of relationships! polyamorous, monogamous, straight, lgbtq+, romantic, platonic, queerplatonic or familial. i am also open to writing not only character x reader, but character x character and maybe even character x oc! all you need to do is let me know what you want, and i will do my best to adhere to your wishes!

when writing character x reader material, characters under the age of 18 will only be written with platonic and familial dynamics. nothing more, nothing less. if it is character x character or character x oc, i may write them in romantic settings, but that is heavily dependent on the characters in-question and how comfortable i feel in the moment.

fandoms that i will write for: genshin impact, honkai star rail, the arcana, overwatch, snow white with the red hair, fruits basket, ouran high school host club, fena: pirate princess, netflix's castlevania and castlevania nocturne, hazbin hotel and helluva boss, sk8 the infinity, wolf children, violet evergarden, arcane: league of legends, marvel cinematic universe, cherry crush, lackadaisy.

things that i will write: fluff, hurt/comfort, aus, self-insert, songfic, slice of life, fantasy, character letters, smaus etc. ask about angst, as i am very sensitive and can't handle it if it's heavy.

things that i will not write: dark content, horror, proship, age gap content, any form of discrimination.

ask for anything else!

characters that i will not write: dr ratio (hsr), sparkle (hsr), lucio (the arcana), characters past inazuma and the xianzhou luofu (genshin and hsr), shigure and kureno (fruits basket), adam (sk8 the infinity), abel (fena: pirate princess), gilbert (violet evergarden), singed (arcane), chohan and sodam (cherry crush), kyoya (ohshc), lenore (netflix's castlevania), blitzo (helluva boss), adam and valentino (hazbin hotel).

i'm okay with most other characters. just ask me.

my payment methods: ko-fi, paypal, venmo, chime. cash-app is a work in progress. i will give any details when we are messaging privately.

prices

imagines/hcs post - $2.00

fanfic - $5.00

all prices are non-negotiable as of right now.

if you find all of these terms agreeable, then feel free to message me! i hope you have a lovely day/night. <3

[professor-abeloved]

misc wan headcanons because they live rent free in my brain

rowan's real name is juan (hu-wan but fast). writes it 'wan' sometimes because white people keep saying it wrong

also, they do have chinese blood up in the family free somewhere hashtag chinoy pride

says his surname doesn't matter because everyone else who shared it is dead.

on a happier note, wan's drag name is 'wan tutri' (1-2-3)

their first reaction seeing the cast is, "Bakit ang ganda ng mga taga-westchester parang kayong model ng sunsilk commercial" (why are people from westcher so attractive its like youre all shampoo model commercials)

that said, wan thinks devon and harper are hot. yes even with the scary death dreams from harper. and with ghosty entity devon.

linc and wan are broody masc mlm and high energy femme nonbinary gay friendship

lincoln being annoyed by wan until they bond

like if theyre in a car and wans head starts to droop, lincoln shoves them away... but later when theyre friends lincoln doesnt move wans head on his shoulder

wan low nerve is a clusterfuck of angst. he thinks he's nothing without the power and needs to be useful to make sure no one else dies. lincoln, who feels like he's been used his entire life for the power, has a lot to say about this

high nerve wan it's a lot of them playfully hitting linc like "bakla ka tama na yang angst angst! Focus here!" (you queer, enough with the angst!)

wan didn't hit on abel because he thought that abel was lincolns ex. upon finding out the truth, he shakes lincoln in frustration

wan, shaking lincoln: sis tingnan mo yung [peach emoji] niya ang sarap sarap aughhhhh now i cant [redacted] him because we're friends >:c (sis, look at abel's [peach emoij] it looks delicious]

he also thinks joss and lia have chemistry

he also just never mentions that assumption until near the end of their adventures and goes “ay nako mga exes na ‘to lagi nag-aaway” (oh my god, these exes keep fighting)

lincoln: wan what the fuck did you just say >:(

abel, linc what did he say? :o

wan, physically restrained by amalia: HALIKAN MO NA SI PROFESSOR (kiss the professor!!)

abel is still ? :0 bc he doesnt understand while linc is fuming

amalia sighs while sipping her coffee

jocelyn goes “oooh fight fight fight!” (she doesnt know whats happening either but its funny)

WAN: YES ATE JOSS SAPAKAN SA LIPS!!! (THEY SHOULD HIT EACH OTHER ON THE LIPS)

Wan frowning at matthiass and saying "kaloka ka girl. (you're crazy/you drive me crazy). you're lucky I love you" when he does shady shit is so funny

wan, poking lincoln as they're sleeping; beh. beh. psst

lincoln: what the fuck

wan: yeah pero listen. may something something si jocelyn and amalia I can feel it in my French tips

lincoln: wan its 2 am shut the fuck up

wan calls mattyass 'colonizer' when theyre upset with him

something something being with mattyass makes wan feel like he has a home and a purpose something something