#and if i end up being less tired i will maybe try and draw something for everyone at a later stage

[riftclaw]

i’ve been pretty busy so i don’t have a lot of time to draw as much as i want to right now but i wanted to doodle a little something of @bunnymajo‘s quake bc i think out of all the ocs in @sonic-oc-showdown she might be my favourite

As of posting this there’s still about 3 hours left on the poll if you also think she’s really cute.

[midnightanxietytm]

He takes his whiskey neat

A/N: Look, I think i was possessed while writing this one /j. It was like 1 am and I was procrastination on college work, I dunno what happened but this is the ungodly spawn of my imagination mixed with sleep deprivation, caffeine and stress. Enjoy and don't question it too much

Contents: Ford Pines x reader, pinning (lots of pining), I pictured reader in their late 40s to early 50s so there is an age gap but nothing extreme. There's some plot in those holes. uhhh lots of tension and no payoff because im pretty sure I passed out before I got to that part.

Word count: 996

There’s this look on his eyes now that you can’t quite figure out.

Ever since Stanford Pines came back from the portal, ever since weirdmageddon and the end of that fateful summer, something about him fundamentally changed. There’s contempt, relief, sure, but there's more to it, something that he keeps deep in that rattling metal-protected brain of his.

And god forbid sometimes you just want to pick him apart entirely, figure out every detail, note it down, absorb it, maybe then his mere presence won’t entice you, mess you, so goddamn much.

It culminates, as all events are bound to do, right before that year’s summer vacation, you blame the heat. 

Soos and Melody took a vacation for themselves, entrusting the shack back to Stan’s less than trustworthy hands, just like old times. Ford slips back into the basement so easily you almost follow him; your mind briefly longing for that nostalgia of being freshly out of college, when you and Ford were easily impressed by the oddness of the world.

You were a prodigy; a good ten years younger than him yet still doing your masters while he did his doctorate, and in the same area with similar themes! Back then, you two were just bright-eyed yet very tired academics… Then Gravity Falls presented itself on a silver platter, and Bill followed through.

You were there, on the day of the portal, or at least, almost there, going back for the thousandth time, expecting no answer to your knocks at the door as usual, only to be met with the fallout of something far worse than refusal.

And then he was back, less jittery, less paranoid and less sleep deprived than he was before at least. But there was that thing in his eyes, that inherent distrust, detachment…? You struggled to find the words and if there’s one thing that you as a scientist can’t deal with is a question that goes unresearched.

So it began; your “research” depended on experiment and to experiment, you firstly decided to get close to your unwilling subject. And you go down the rabbit hole.

You find him in the basement, of course. He’s drawing on loose sheets of paper, some of the discarded pieces lay on the floor, and the cd player by his side is playing just loud enough to muffle your footsteps as you approach him by his right side. “Updating the journal?” You ask, nonchalantly, as if you hadn't obsessively turned each page of his journals before, as if your own handwriting wasn’t squeezed in the first ones before his old muse took all the space left.

Ford just hums, raising his chin slightly, but not his eyes, just to acknowledge the question. “Not really, just trying to get some proportion practice. Looking back, some of my work on the first journal was… Not the best.” 

A chuckle leaves your mouth; “If you say so…” You hum, picking up one of the filled out pages that were pushed aside in the table and pretending to look it over as he places his pen down and looks up at you.

“Any advice?” He asks, and once again you pretend to be paying attention to anything but him and his every movement.

“Not really… I think you’re good.” You place the paper back at the table, leaning against it. “Thought you’d be going through your abstract phase by now, honestly.” And you smirk down at him.

He leans back, crossing his arms; “I fear I’m too logical to have an abstract phase, even my craziest dreams have math and science behind them.” And you both laugh, and your curiosity itches more and more every millisecond.

The next words that leave your mouth were planned and inwardly rehearsed, but they come out natural as a summer breeze. “Every tortured artist has an abstract phase, get on with the times, sixer!” It comes out as a joke, it's a test. And suddenly you’re too nervous to stay there, staring at him and waiting for a rebuttal. You push yourself off the table and zipline to one of the bookshelves, reaching towards the back of it, you pull the ‘eureka whiskey’ and the two cups.

He just watches you for a second, then accepts the cup as you pour him one, then one for yourself. 

And it’s truly the eureka whiskey, because goddamn you just found something in those eyes. 

He takes a sip; “Yeah I guess those portal days would do for some good surrealist pieces at least.”

“I can’t even imagine.” You say.

He smirks, lips inches from his cup. “You can’t…” He takes a sip. “That’s the point of surrealist.” You want his brain under a microscope, you want his breath mixing with yours, you want to never see him again, you want to wake up near him every day.

The curse of science is that in the endeavor to figure out the world, the scientist often loses sight of themselves. 

The witty remarks, the planned lines, the psychological strategies, all fly out of you head and you lean back against his desk. He’s leaned further back now and his chair is turned diagonally towards you and he watches with a smile and those eyes. “What did you see?” It’s almost a whisper, because you think he might actually tell you, and that scares you more than anything.

“Too much…” He swallows, sighs, takes a swing of whiskey and rests the empty cup on the desk. “It was very chaotic, honestly that’s all I want to say…” You sigh, pushing yourself up to sit at his desk, and his head tilts as he watches you. 

“I’m glad you’re back.” You settle, even though it doesn’t even come near to all the things you want to express. He smiles, and his eyes travel down, landing on your hands, holding your barely touched whiskey glass. You follow his gaze, and chuckle. “I’m more of a whine person.”

“I know…”

[plutoispurplw]

Cardigan

Summary: Spencer is having dudes about his feelings towards JJ and reader can't bear it.

Couple: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Angst, Spencer being a bad boyfriend, mention of prision and drugs.

A/N: I just write this because haunted of my favorite blonde but ended up in cardigan. Second part is probably in saturday or sunday.

Second part!

All these years for what? He always gonna dude about their relationship.

After he was held hostage with JJ he started to act differently towards you, he was more cold and looked guilty when you tried to hug him.

In a case when you both shared a room, you lay down on the bed by his side, it was almost midnight. You try to move closer to him but he just moves away just a little, you get nervous for a moment but you decide to push the thoughts aside.

"Spencer I wanna talk with you about something important." You look at him in the eyes, sitting against the gray headboard of the bed.

"I notice that you've been acting weird and-"

He didn't let you finish, normally he wouldn’t do that and less in a conversation like this. "Please don't start now Y/N, nothing is happening with me. Let's just sleep okay?" The tone of his voice was annoyed and sounded tired, his facial expression was annoyed

You felt your heart break a little at his words but you tried to mend it by telling yourself that he maybe was frustrated with the case and that you have to stop overthinking.

Nothing was wrong.

You lay down again in the bed and put the beige blanket over your body and his. "Okay, I'm sorry, I was just worried about you and if something was wrong."

His expression changed again and he looked filled with guilt. "Don't apologize, you just were worried. Let's just sleep okay, sweetheart?" It was the name that he called you but it felt like ice against your warm skin. It was burning but you could bear it.

You started to be more worried, maybe he was having problems again with drugs? That would explain the guilty face that receives you when you kiss him.

Questions, that what you had so you started to ask him what was happening but he always denied everything, he thought that you were that stupid?

In the wedding of Rossi, you notice the looks between him and JJ, but you decide to ignore that even if it gives you a bad feeling in your guts, maybe you just were exaggerating.

Weeks later he and you were in the apartment, he was sitting on the couch reading a book, and you approached him and sat on his lap. Normally he would put the book down and kiss you but now he didn't do that, he kept reading like you weren't there.

"Spencer, what's happening?" Your voice was tired this time, you were tired of this, of never knowing what was wrong.

He put the book down and looked at you in the eyes, he looked annoyed by you again, and you felt hurt. "Nothing is happ-"

Now you were the one interrupting him, your voice was louder. "Stop saying that, I know something is wrong so just tell me what is happening."

He put you on the couch and got up, he was pacing around the living room, he looked stressed out and you were just looking at the floor. That's when he starts talking.

When you hear his words your mind when just blank, and your face doesn’t have any emotions for a moment, the only thing that could betray your sadness is that the characteristic light in your gaze is gone.

How he could heal and draw over your scars just to make new ones, scars that would never heal.

After that you started to cry, all your emotions were being poured into your salty tears. He tried to comfort you but you didn't let him.

"You feel something for her?" He stayed quiet, he didn't look at your eyes. That told you everything that you have to know.

How could he love her? You were the one who listened to his rants and facts. You were the one who comforted him when he had nightmares or couldn't sleep because of the memories from prison, from his addiction, from everything bad that happened to him. You were the one who always loved him and the one who would give their life without thinking for him.

"She is married and she has kids Spencer!" You yell at him, anger starts to grow inside you along with the sadness from your broken heart.

"I know," He calmly told you, how could he be calm after breaking your heart?

Maybe you weren't that important to him, maybe you were the consolation prize after all.

"Y/N, I love you, I need you to know that." His hands cupped your face, hands that were always delicate with you, like you were a doll of porcelain. For an instant, you were gonna get closer to kiss him, But you noticed his gaze, filled with guilt and pity for you.

You got up and ran towards the bedroom, the suitcase on the bed while you were filling it with clothes and your things. Tears wetting your clothes and your cheeks.

He then spoke again. "Please wait Y/N, calm down." He tried to hug you from behind you, it felt like he was trying to contain you.

You turn around and push him away from your body, from your embrace. "Stop saying that I need to calm down! You just said that maybe you still love Jennifer, how the fuck do you want me to feel about it?" You yell at him at the top of your lungs. You take a deep breath and keep packing your things.

He let you keep packing the suitcase, he didn't try to stop you again.

When you ended up filling your suitcase you walked to the principal door of the apartment, ready to go anywhere but here, you couldn't bear the thought of sleeping in the same bed where he told you that he loved you for the first time.

When you look back you find him with his eyes crystallized, the guilt was consuming him. Your fool heart broke again at the sight of him like this but your brain didn’t let you go back so you stepped out of the apartment.

After that you came to our friend's house and told her everything, she let you cry on her shoulder and told you to stay and don't go back still.

In the middle of the night, you woke up, wishing that this was just a really bad dream but that didn't happen, you were in the guest room alone.

Now you couldn't sleep without his welcoming warm that embraces you through the most cold nights.

After all, you always gonna be his second choice, the one that he could always count on to comfort him even if he didn't reciprocate your feelings.

You should know better than wanting to hug him and forgive him but you couldn't help that feeling, you thought that he was the love of your life, the father of your kids, the one you would die with.

You put your hand on top of your belly, how you were supposed to tell him that you were pregnant with his child after that? You didn't know what to do.

You felt like an old cardigan under someone's bed waiting to be found again and be used.

[flamingpudding]

Fictober23 Prompt: 22 - "Who takes care of you?"

Fandom: DPxDC

Rating: T

Warnings: -

A/N: Originally Cass was supposed to be the one picking up Danny... but I was not confident enough in that deleted part and so Dick's part ended up getting changed and being the last one instead.

Damian blinked at the child sitting at the playpen of the rescued kittens. He was sure there hadn't been anyone before besides this was a restricted area. Only volunteers and the actual workers of the animal shelter were allowed here. He looked around the area, hoping to see someone that could identify as the child's guardian but he was alone in the room with the child and kittens.

"How did you get in here?" He bluntly asked but the child was apparently ignoring him. The boy's back was turned to him and Damian's eyes narrowed. The child was wearing a slightly oversized NASA shirt as well as ratty looking shorts. He had black hair that appeared to be slightly unkempt with a length just enough to prevent Damian from seeing the child's eyes. He stepped over the knee high kitten fence towards the child but then stopped.

The boy was holding one of their smallest kittens they had rescued two days ago. The kitten had refused any milk or food they had offered it. Damian had planned to try and convince it to eat something before the workers would be forced to attempt force feeding. But the boy was holding it and one of the milk bottles was only used for the youngest of kittens. It was eating.

The small child was mumbling something to the kitten and Damian believed he picked up some of the words being: 'You're safe now.', 'I know it hurts but you gotta eat.', 'Being lost is always scary.', 'I am sure everyone is worried.'.

Under normal circumstances Damian would be suspicious of this boy but right now he was more relieved that the little one they all had been worried about was finally eating something. He would have to thank this little boy and his guardian. Maybe the boy even planned to give that little kitten a home with him.

With a small fond smile Damian decided to let the boy be and turned to feet the other kittens that were already excitingly climbing up his leg for their meal in his hands. He hadn't watched the child for less than five minutes but when he turned back to ask that child about his guardian.

The boy was gone. The feeding bottle was propped onto the fence in a way that allowed the little kittens to still feed off it. It was like the boy had never been there. Damian hadn't heard the door of the room open and close either. Nor the typical rustling of clothes when one stands up. He narrowed his eyes at the spot where the child had been.

Even when asking the other volunteers and workers. No one else appeared to have seen the child he had described to them.

—-

Tim blinked at the boy that had seemingly appeared out of nowhere. Or maybe Tim had been too tired to realize that he had sat down into a booth that was already taken when he had ordered his coffee. The child didn't appear to pay him any mind, to focus on a piece of paper they were drawing on with green crayons.

Tim looked around the coffee shop trying to spot who this child belonged to but found no one. Now the most responsible thing would probably be to alert one of the store workers about a possible abandoned child, get in contact with the authorities and make sure the child would be returned to his rightful guardians or parents.

The problem was, Tim was sleep deprived and had his own fair share of abandoned child issues as well as having seen enough corrupted authorities trafficking children like that.

"Hey there, what are you doing?" He asked the kid instead, black shaggy hair hung into the kids eyes and the head moved only so slightly indicating that the child had heard him.

"Drawing a blueprint." The boy mumbled and Tim arched an eyebrow.

"With crayons?"

"This is the only shop that gave me this for free so I wouldn't have to attempt to steal a pen and paper."

Tim hummed studying the boy more closely and his drawing more closely now. He arched an eyebrow when among the barely readable scribes he noticed something that looked a lot like a mathematical equation.

Letting his eyes wander around the store once more before resting them on the child Tim thought about it. A child seemingly alone in a coffee shop, the only place according to the kid that had willingly given him paper and crayons to draw with. The drawing being a 'blueprint' for something and among the scribbles were some actual calculations that might make sense. He would need to take a closer look to really judge that.

"Don't you have things like that at home?"

Before he could receive an answer Tim's number got called out, telling him that his order was ready. Glancing at the kid he got up to quickly retrieve it. But when he turned back to the table to continue questioning the child he found the booth empty with no indication that anyone had been there before.

Partially Tim thought his mind might have hallucinated the boy in his sleep deprived state but a broken piece of green crayon left on the floor by the place where the boy had sat was his indication that he hadn't. Strangely enough, when he tried to check for video evidence, Tim found that all surveillance videos were corrupted.

—-

Jason was just done dealing with this drug deal when he heard rustling behind some of the warehouse crates. Instinctively he pulled out his gun. It appeared like one of these goons tried to sneak away. Well not on his watch.

But once he had silently made his way over to the crates he did not find a left over underling like he expected. No when he kicked the crate and pointed his gun it was not a grown ass man trying to hide from Red Hoods wrath, no a goddamn child rolled out of the crate clutching some metal pieces and electric cables to his chest.

"Fuck!" His first thought was that these assholes he had just beat up were not only trafficking drugs but also children, it made him want to beat the ever living daylight out of them a second time. But then the child's head tilted ever so slightly, eyes covered by his shaggy looking hair but Jason thought he saw blue peeking out between the strands of hair.

"Shit." He cursed once more hurrying to put his gun away so as not to scare the kid, before he crouched in front of the boy. "Hey there, you okay?"

His hands hovered above the boy's shoulders, close enough to catch the kid should he fall over but not too close to make the boy feel threatened. Looking the kid up and down, Jason tried to see if there were any injuries on the boy.

"No! The circuit board I found is now cracked! What a waste!" The boy held up a clearly cracked and broken piece of electronics with one hand, his other arm was still clutching some cables and metal to his chest.

Not the reaction he was expecting but Jason could find a way to roll with it. "Bummer huh? Want me to show you a place where we could get a perfectly good one?"

The boy was grumbling something inaudible and threw the piece of broken electronics to the side, instead picking up something else that had rolled out with the boy from the crate. Jason watched how the boy, clearly ignoring his question, picked up what looked like a piece of surveillance equipment and inspected it.

"I guess that thing will do. No one will miss it if one of them is gone, right?"

"One of them?" Jason questioned looking at the little transmitter in the kids hands. The boy appeared to finally pay attention to him, turning his head ever so lightly up to look at Jasons. "Yea there are a bunch of these in all the boxes."

He narrowed his eyes and looked over his shoulder and shouted at his men. "HEY! Get someone to look at this stuff! They bugged the place!"

When he turned back towards the boy he found kid gone. Jason blinked in disbelief, his hands which had been hovering over the kids shoulder were now above an empty spot.

"Where the fuck…?!" He stood looking around the warehouse and around all the boxes and crates. But the kid was nowhere to be found. He cursed several times and had his men looking in the surrounding area but there was no trace of the child.

All that was left from his encounter with he child was that piece of broken electronic the kid had thrown to the side. Not even his helmet had retained any footage. The video one loaded onto his laptop to review it, turned out to be corrupted. So now he couldn't even print out a picture or something of the boy.

—

By now the meetings of his siblings with a small black haired boy had made the rounds in their family. While Damian, Tim and Jason appeared to have had the biggest meetings with the child they weren't the only ones. Once the topic has come up, Steph, Duke and even Cass shared small stories of having met a child with the same description.

Dick had then pouted a little, lamenting that he was the only one that hadn't gotten to meet this strange kid that appeared out of nowhere and then also disappeared like he never had been there. His siblings had only stared at him unimpressed.

Well either way it looked like Dick was getting his wish after all. If Damian hadn't mentioned what the kid was wearing and Jason hadn't added that the kid appeared to be collecting electronics Dick might have overlooked it when he had jumped from roof to roof.

But as it was he caught a little boy trying to drag an old washing machine tied with rope into an empty building. It had made Dick pause and stare at the situation long enough to realize that the kid fit the description his siblings had given him before perfectly.

On instinct he wanted to jump down and talk with the little bugger but he was also curious of what the boy was doing so he watched a little more and he was quite impressed. The child must possess some strength because after a while the kid had dragged the washing machine into the building.

Spotting an open window Dick decided to sneak in that way to continue to observe. Once in though he blinked at what he saw. The kid had built a lab out of scrap metal. There was also something that looked like an arch the boy was clearly working on but holy moly. Tim probably wasn't too far off with his boy genius on the run theory.

But looking around more Dick also noticed that the place did not look lived in. Sure there was this giant self made lab area but everything else looked very much abandoned. He glanced around and snuck into another area finding a mattress, bedding and a backpack with a thermos as well as a couple of packs of snacks but no actual food.

Dick frowned at this. Even if the boy was a child genius, this was no way to life for someone his age. He looked over his shoulder towards the entrance of the area he was in. In the distance he could hear metal clanging. Looks like the kid was already working on dismantling the washing machine he had dragged in.

He reached out to the backpack, looking into it carefully but found nothing but a second set of spare clothes and what looked like an old self made flip phone. He should feel guilty but he wanted to make sure of things, so Dick flipped the phone open, checking if it was on. What greeted him was the image of a teenage boy that held similarities to the child getting hugged by what appeared to be the teenager's friends with a red haired girl behind them.

Frowning more, dick decided enough was enough. He openly walked to the lap area where the child was currently sticking his head into the washing drum. "Hey there kid!"

He winced hearing how the boy apparently banged his head on something and let out a storm of curses that would probably make Jason proud or all of his siblings frown. Leaning over the washing machine he smiled at the kid as the boy glared up at him rubbing his forehead. Ouch there really was a bump forming. He will ice it later.

"You're one of Gotham's vigilantes, Nightwing." The kid muttered but Dick caught the hand sneaking to the side reaching for a heavy looking wrench.

"That I am and you're a little kid working in a self made lab. Where are your parents and or guardian?"

"Don't have any here." The kid was now full on glaring at him. Why was he getting the not as friendly treatment? Sure that's better than the way his siblings had described the boy ignoring them but he hadn't done anything bad to the kid yet.

"If you don't have any, who takes care of you?" He then asked, still all smiles and friendly despite internally being very worried about this child's wellbeing.

"I take care of myself. I am not doing anything illegally. Everything I got here was thrown away by other people! You can't arrest me!" The boy hissed and hadn't Jason and Cass said they saw the child's eyes being blue? Why did he just see green peek through the bangs of the kid?

"Hey, hey, hey! I am not here to arrest anyone! I promise!" He held his hands up but the boy still glared at him. "But if you are alone here, you know I can't just let you be right?"

"No, you can!" The boy sprang up holding the wrench like a weapon in front of him. "I am perfectly fine on my own and working on a way back home! You can just leave me alone and act like you never saw me!"

Dick shook his head. The boy appeared to be stubborn and set on not having anyone interfere with whatever he was building. But Dick, in good consciousness, couldn't just leave like nothing was going on. His siblings had also voiced worry for this child. So he was going to try to negotiate something with the kid, and if that didn't work… Well Dick could always pull a Bruce and bring the kid home and into his care anyway. "Sorry little guy. No can do, but if you tell me more about your situation maybe I can help you get home?"

[genshin-scenarios]

types of fleeting moments…

Summary: Cute or flustering things they might do. There is uh, kissing in almost all of them, so rated teens and up!

Characters: Venti, Xiao, Lyney, Kazuha, Heizou

It’s not uncommon for Venti to rile you up. His laughter is light on the breeze as he finally puts an end to teasing you, a gentle voice suddenly very close to your ear. He drapes his arms on top of your shoulders, leaning close.

“Sorry, sorry! You’re just so cute when you’re mad.”

Your annoyance pitches into a blush at the proximity. “And how is that—”

As much as Venti likes to talk, he’s just as naturally inclined to stealing your breath away—or in this case, shocking you out of your rebuttal with a kiss that swoops into you. 

His thumb hooks under your chin to tilt you closer. The familiar taste of apples meets your tongue as Venti’s nose brushes yours, smiling against your lips.

Maybe there’s one more thing he’s addicted to, other than wine. 

You’ve been on many adventures and stealth missions, but you have to admit that getting trapped into a hiding space with Xiao is not something that’s happened before.

Xiao isn’t often this close to you—at least not in situations like these, where both your hearts are racing at the thought of being caught by enemies right in the middle of their base. But maybe part of the heat rising to your cheeks is also because of Xiao looking towards the side, doing everything he can to respect your space in a closet that has none.

The sound of footsteps and a loud thumb against the door startles you both; Xiao’s arms immediately move to cage you against the wall. It’s a protective instinct, but the moment those outside shuffle away, Xiao’s ears are blushing the reddest you’ve ever seen.

“I didn’t mean to…” He starts, before sighing and opting to thump his forehead against the wall beside you instead. This time, you’re the one that freezes at the feeling of his hair tickling your neck.

What a mess you’ve found yourself in.

You’d intended to infiltrate a party under the guise of being a couple. Yet it takes less than an hour for a stranger to start blocking your way, attempting to flirt with you when you were supposed to be gathering information from somewhere else. 

From across the room, Lyney abandons his task to step in and introduce himself as your boyfriend. While this was your cover, you’re still flustered at how he’d done so in such a blasé way. Lyney smiles like it’s second-nature as he picks up your hand and brushes his lips over your knuckles.

“Isn’t that right, my love?”

It’s all you can do to muster a smile and play along, trying not to let the shock appear on your face. When the offender disappears amongst the crowd, Lyney continues holding onto your hand and even pulls you closer. There’s a pout on his lips as he quietly complains. “How could I just stand there as someone tried to whisk you away?”

“It’s just a cover.” You try to reassure him, but the mischievous glint in Lyney’s eyes suggests otherwise.

“...Does it really have to be?”

There are a lot of things Kazuha does that makes your face heat up like no tomorrow, but this might be the worst of them all.

“Sorry,” he smiles against your neck, anything but apologetic. “I’m just a little tired today, I hope you don’t mind.”

When Kazuha asked if you’d be okay with cuddling with him, or letting him take a nap with you, this was not what you imagined. 

He buries his head into the crook of your neck, nuzzling against it. Absent-mindedly, Kazuha mentions he can almost hear the sound of your pulse. He places a fleeting kiss on your collarbone, before finally resting against your shoulder like a normal person.

Then, you feel his fingers trace the spot he’d just kissed. His touch is just gentle enough that it tickles you, and as you spot the little quirk to Kazuha’s lips, you can feel your sanity floating even further away. Kazuha’s hands travel across your skin, as if drawing a map of his traces on you.

At this rate, you’ll never sleep soundly again.

Heizou has a habit of sharing things with you; particularly food.

It’s a normal thing to do, in his defense. Why only eat one type of dish when you could order two different ones and share them? Set aside the fact that Heizou likes to also feed you, watching for your reaction as he lifts a spoon to your lips to sample something—would you get embarrassed, or attempt to casually take a bite? 

He takes all responses as a way of learning more about you, so no matter what, Heizou seems to be happy about the result.

Today, you’re at a festival together. It’s honestly a beautiful event, with sakura blossoms in the air and yokai hiding around the forest, peeking out at the food stalls and games. You’d gotten yourself a bag of candies and didn’t think much of Heizou asking for a sample.

Until he takes said sample from you, in a kiss that stuns you in place, before realizing he’d stolen it from your mouth. Heizou only sends you a wink, thanking you, and quickly walking ahead before you could  scold him for his boldness.

[staarboyyy]

YAYYY YOUR REQUESTS ARE OPEN!!!

I was wondering if you could maybe write something about y/n being an apprentice and Hoffman flirts with them even knowing they are in a relationship with Amanda 😧 It goes on for a while and Amanda gets tired of it, gets really jealous and yells at Hoffman then takes y/n back to her room and… you know 🫣 NSFW, maybe slight choking if you don’t mind writing it (if not that is totally okay!) just some dirty talk here and there also for example: whenever Amanda catches Hoffman flirting with reader she whispers things into readers ear :) Thank you so much in advance!

territory

amanda young x gender neutral reader | specified anatomy

18+ characters / scenarios - minors dni

tags / warnings ; apprentice!reader, jealousy, amanda being a guard dog, anatomical terms for vagina, degradation, dubcon if u squint, biting, sadistmanda

summary ; amanda catches you and mark going over your lastet work.

word count ; 3.2k

a/n; sorry for the delay, i really loved this prompt and writing for the apprentice reader, they are so silly! please enjoy :D

Amanda had a bad feeling about Mark from the start. How could she not? She saw that wicked look in his eyes, that knowing spark every time he glanced at you while you sketched traps aimlessly. He knew that you weren't supposed to be anything more than teammates, but that didn't stop him from trying to turn it into something more - Something like what you and Amanda had. Mark had always been cold, bitter. He spoke the truth with no hesitation, taking in breaths with the intent to speak words meant to silence others in the room. He was a force to be reckoned with to most; And yet as he watched you from across the warehouse, his gaze was disturbingly ... Friendly. Seeing this did not just make Amanda angry, her gaze curiously stuttering past the dooframe just as Mark crossed the room toward you. He squared his shoulders, shoes thudding quietly against the cement floor as his eyes reached the sketchbook in front of you.

You had been drafting for some days - It felt strange, almost like having homework due. John was a tough judge, especially when the traps were made for a truly awful person; In truth you didn't want to dwell on the details of the man this trap was for. He had taken things from women that could never be given back to them, and that was enough to drive your sadistic spark. The spark that made John give a slight tilted grin, not speaking as he steadily nodded, studying your sketches. At first his silence worried you, but when your drafts ended up pinned to the wall near his desk, you took to planning more confidently. It seemed John wasn't the only one to take notice to your determination, your pencil coming to a sharp pause as Mark leaned the weight of his hip into the creaking metal table. His eyes were still lingering on the page, jaw shifting with a slightly tilted head, nearly perplexed at the scratched notes and crumpled discarded brainstorm pages. Not your fault your desk was cluttered. When the inspiration hits you, y'know?

"What is this?"

Mark asked quietly as he moved to grasp and hold up one of the crumpled sketches. It had been discarded because you accidentally drew it comically uneven and decided it was too time consuming to try and fix without a ruler on hand. Mark gave you a quizzical glance nonetheless, looking between you, the warped drawing, and the others on the sketchbook before you. You had originally planned to draw a second picture, a much less fucked up version with the same pose, but you got hung up on the details. A small laugh escapes your throat, lighting up the cold warehouse for a brief moment. Why did he take notice of the wrong sketch? And why did he have to remind you of it's existence? The small pursed smile pushed at the corners of your lips as gave a shake of your head.

"Bad proportions."

"I'll fuckin' say,"

Mark's response suprised you slightly, the way his tone so easily shifted from a cold demanding one to an almost playful chuckle. He gave a slight nod as he re crumpled the distorted sketch, eyes casting over his shoulder to locate the trash can and - Oh. There she was. Amanda stood slightly obscured by a stacked frame of chains, the light of the warehouse casting long shadows across her face. She could feel the distinct searing hot shaking in her fingertips; She had never seen Mark laugh, let alone smile. It left a harshly bitter taste in her mouth, shifting her shoulder to shrug past the hanging chains. Her body moved slow, steps quiet as she approached you and Mark with the stealth of a snake in high grass. Her dark eyes were still locked on Mark's, the way his free hand hovered over your shoulder, how he shifted his body to face yours, the smell of his subtle cologne brushing over your senses. Jealousy surged through Amanda's veins in chilling waves, goosebumps pricking the back of her neck, fingers clenching into fists, knuckles a bright white. No one could have you besides her, this was true. But Hoffman surely had to know exactly what he was doing.

Mark's eyes narrowed when they met Amanda's. He knew that look - An animal primed to kill, a woman who would cage herself over you in a storm of shattered glass without a second thought. He swore a flashing glint of red soared over Amanda's gaze, her attention faltering as it caught the sight of Mark's hand. In one moment, his palm had laid for perhaps half a second on your shoulder, and the next, a shadow cast over your sketchbook, a figure standing directly behind you.

You had grown used to Amanda's silence when walking around the warehouse, yet your body jolted with a sudden twist of fear, moving to turn towards the figure just as Mark pulled his hand away. Your hitching breaths relaxed as you caught sight of Amanda, your expression easing into a small smile. But when she did not return it, it faded from your lips. You immediately recounted the past few minutes - Surely there had been no reason to be angry with you. You've been working, and Mark's been... Ah. The dots connected then as you peered over toward the man beside you, then Amanda once again. The woman wet her lips slowly, tongue rolling over her bottom lip before speaking in a terrifyingly calm voice.

"Having fun?"

Amanda's gaze locked with Mark's, her thoughts flashing with an ugly picture of him with you. Mark shifted slightly, a frown tugging at the edge of his lips. He knew that look in Amanda's eyes. That possessiveness that bordered on insanity. She couldn't place if Mark even knew about her history with you - The countless times she'd press kisses to your cheek in passing, the brush of your thighs when you passed each other, your quiet desperate whispers in her ear promising to keep quiet if it meant she'd touch you. You belonged to her entirely, she was assured of that every waking moment of the day. Every time your bodies tangled together in bed, swimming amongst the sheets to get comfortable, taking in eachothers warmth and staying close, whispering sweet nothings. You were Amanda's everything. She'd flay anyone, any man that tried to ruin that.

"Having a blast." Mark speaks sarcastically, leaning once again against the rusting table, palms splayed over it behind him. "Our friend here was showing me some of their latest work, which I have to say seems promising."

Mark continues, not even looking at Amanda, instead focusing on your drawings. Amanda, for her part, remained motionless for a moment, her expression nearly unreadable, her breathing sharp and steady. Your face flushed, cheeks warming at the sight. In another world, you'd be terrified of that look. Primed to kill, stalking prey with the intent to ravaging it. Her fists curled tight at her side, mouth parted ever so slightly.

"Latest work?"

Amanda echoed, not missing a beat. She still had her eyes locked on Mark. There were no words there anymore, just unspoken emotions that Mark caught wind of almost immediately. He rolled his shoulders, feeling them tense up slightly. He should have known better than to cross claimed territory. That became only more apparent as Amanda's slow pace began once again, coming closer to you both until her hands could rest on both of your shoulders. Her hands were just abit smaller than Mark's, fingers slim and familiar, silver banded rings wrapping over them. They were familiar, warm as her thumbs swept over the backs of your shoulders. It comforted her having you in arms reach, especially with Mark so close by. Her grasp was ever so slightly too tight, fingers flexing over your shoulders as her head cocked, eyes still on Mark. She lifted her eyesbrows expectantly, chin jutting forward slightly, motioning the man to speak with an impatient expression.

"Tch,"

Amanda's possessiveness was so intense, you started to question if that was really a good thing - But the way her hands were now holding you, stroking your shoulder in a comforting caress? That was definitely worth the way Mark began to shift away from you both. There was no helping the way you bit your lip, trying to ignore the way your pulse was picking up pace by the second under Amanda's cold grasp. Her large scarred hands made you feel safe. Each arching scratch or healing nick on her finger tips had a story, one she would tell you with a lopsided grin, nearly bragging. She liked impressing you. Though, she'd never admit it to you without a myriad of stutters and flushed cheeks. Her presence made you feel warm, a space of safe welcoming heat in the middle of this seemingly endless freezing warehouse. You were so comfortable with her hands on your shoulders that you stopped wondering what Mark was feeling. Your gaze cast toward the sketches splayed over your desk, mind dwindling off into all different directions, all leading back to her. Mark was always cold. You and Amanda had something different - The way her breath caught in her throat as she realized you were starting to relax again, the way the fingers on your shoulder gripped tighter just for a moment before she pulled back, as if to assure you she'd be back in no time - you didn't even glance away as Mark's footsteps echoed away down a dingey hallway, presumably to leave for the night.

The feeling of your back hitting the lush mattress of Amanda's bed took the breath away, but how her hands kept your wrists pinned to the sheets made you gasp sharply. The palms pressed softly against your wrists, sending shivers rocketing up your spine, setting your every nerve on edge. Her dark hair curtained over you as her nails gently raked over your body - She cherished every inch of skin, biting her lower lip as her eyes watched you wryly, pinned underneath her. You didnt dare push past this to see through the pulsing haze that danced across your vision from the unexpected rough touch of the other. You tried to swallow your panic down, but nothing could be done to keep the soft whimper from escaping your lips; It pulled a low purr from the woman, tutting quietly before bringing an index finger to her lips, a motion to stay quiet. Amanda leaned down then, her whispered words catching the shell of your ear as she leaned more of her weight into you.

"Shh... You know exactly what you were doing. Don't try to fight me now."

Your eyes darted back and forth, body shivering with equal parts need and fear as she chuckled darkly. The sound was pillowed with a dark intent, lips moving to trace over the warm skin of your neck, lightly glazed with sweat. There was a moment where it felt like you were going to pass out from the thrill of being Amanda's plaything, but then her lips pressed gently against your throat, tethering your mind to focus on her. The way her tongue slid over the sensitive space of skin, teeth gently sinking down, reeling a quiet squeal from your chest. It only made her bite harder, though perhaps you knew that; Perhaps she was right. You wanted to play cat and mouse? So be it.

You squirmed at the slowly building pinch on your throat, back arching as arms fighting ever so slightly against Amanda's weight. After a long moment, the pain subsided, her tongue sweeping over the harsh bite before sitting up slightly. Her eyes were locked on yours, though she was clearly looking through you, to some private joke you were not exactly privy to. Her eyes slid down your body slowly, her left hand releasing one of your wrists to dive underneath your shirt. It seemed a dangerous gamble, taking the chance that she'd see your skin bare, chest rising and falling with frantic gasps of desire, like this. But then, Amanda had been a risk taker - And in this moment, there was nothing more you wanted, those poisonous moments where every sensation she caused seemed to leave a permanent mark on your body and mind. She molded you, carved you like granite as she palmed your chest greedily, one of her legs shifting to spread your own. Her knee pressed lightly against your clothed heat, applying slight varying pressure with a watchful eye; She always loved to see exactly what made you tick. What made your back arch and breath hitch with a carnal spark. She craved to have that practiced to a muscle memory, to turn you mindless in the palm of her hand whenever she chose fit.

"God you're sick huh?

You tried to say something in defense, maybe even a witty quip to get her to smile again. You loved when she smiled in moments like this; Between the passion, the rough bites and harsh words - It was nothing less than love. She knew how much you adored her like this. Dominant, protective, trigger happy with anybody who dared get too close to you. But you were breathless, body shuddering with the pleasure her touch brought. You were at your most vulnerable underneath the woman; Even with no way out, you could think of nothing better than being right where you were. Not much else mattered except for the feeling of both her hands sweeping back down your chest and stomach, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. It wasn't until her finger tips hooked around your belt loops that your dazed eyes focused. Her fingers were slim, scarred, veins lacing over the back of her large hand and muscular forearm. She pulled away your pants with a bite of her lip, kicking them away with distinct impatience; She wanted to taste you.

The cold air chilled your lower half as she worked at your jeans, a soft chuckle following as her finger tips glided over your hips, dipping into the waistband of your underwear. She took more deliberate care with these, her fingers finding the exact mark in the fabric to pull them down, leaving you fully exposed. She wasted no time in exploring the full breadth of your bare front, leaning slightly downward to press soft kisses along the hard pulse of your left thigh. It was maddening, feeling the woman in her element as she lavished attention on your vulnerable skin, biting like a starving animal; Arousal spun your mind, her hot breath and desperate tongue so close to your needy cunt.

You couldn't think through the fog in your mind - Only feel. Only see. Her fingers danced across your skin in search of its most sensitive areas, leaving strewns of light bruises on the soft of your thighs. Hands swept over your thighs with surprising gentleness, positioning your legs to rest on her wide shoulders. She didn't let them linger there, letting go to slip those same palms over your ass, pulling you closer to her with yet another dark snicker. The air in your chest seemed to catch fire when she spoke, her whispered breath causing your hips to sutter forward, whimpering needily.

"I haven't even touched you yet... You think Mark could make you this fucking pathetic?"

It was a sharp question, despite being spoken in one of the softest tones you've ever heard from the woman - She gave you no time to answer, let alone recover before letting her tongue dip firmly into the space she whispered into.

“You're mine,” She murmured, letting her senses all fall away from her head, her spiraling thoughts. She was quick to pull your legs apart from one another, letting his tongue ease over your cunt, starting down firmly at the base, one of her thumbs moving to spread you open gently, to let all her have complete access to you. You gasped sharply, instinctively trying to close your thighs at the sudden electric euphoria lashing at your senses. Yet when her teeth grazed over your clit, your breath hitched tightly in your chest, gazing down at her working at your cunt with the desperation of a starved animal. A groan vibrated into your heat, and you let your head fall back, propping yourself up with her elbows as beads of sweat rolled over your temples. Your eyebrows knitted together, one of your hands reaching to the back of Amandas head, hoping for everything that she wouldn’t stop no matter what you said.

“Fuck - 'Manda!”

You strained the words, your hips shaking slightly as Amanda pulled your clit firmly between her lips, the fingers once used to hold you down had been moved to ease into your cunt, her index and middle fingers sliding in with little resistance. You felt so full just from the pair of fingers, and when she curved them upwards, you could feel your thighs trembling, biting your bottom lip. The quickening tips of her fingers reached that perfect spot, the one that you could barely reach by yourself. You tossed your head over the sheets, your fits gripping the blankets beside you so tightly you could feel your fingernails digging into the palm of your hand. Amandas tongue worked wonders over the small area, her fingers keeping the repetitive motion inside of you; You felt a small fire start to rise in your lower stomach, spiking up into your veins, clouding your vision with stinging tears - Your body screamed for release, your moans aimless, begging Amanda not to stop.

          Your squeals always seemed to motivate her more than anything else. Amanda used her free hand to pull one of your legs up onto her strong shoulder, leaning herself deeper into you - So willing to make you come undone just from her fingers and tongue alone. A smile reached over her lips as she pulled her mouth from you, her fingers not wavering.

      “That's it...” She murmured, her dark eyes piercing deep into yours, expression contorting, able to see you finally cum around her thick fingers. Your eyes watered with the immeasurable amount of pleasure that reigned over your senses, head spinning, saliva falling from your bottom lip. Amanda shuddered out a sigh at the sight of your twitching heat, her thumb rubbing over your senstive clit harshly now, post orgasm. This caused you to try and pull away once more, head shaking instinctually. The sensitivity was too much for you, a strangled sounding out cry made Amanda chuckle casually, her teeth now nipping at the insides of your thighs as you rode out your forcefully coaxed orgasm.

When Amanda removed her fingers, she eased her tongue over them, humming with approval, eyes not leaving your dazed expression. She let your trembling leg slide off her shoulder as the air filled with your unsteady gasps, hardly able to put words together as the woman before you moved to sit on the bed beside you - You tried to move, lifting your shakey hand, finger tips numb from your shallow breaths, yet Amanda shook her head and returned your hand back in place. You needed rest, even as she pulled you into her arms and wrapped her thick quilt over your shoulders, keeping you in her lap while she gingerly offered you water and pecking your cheeks and head with kisses. Amanda would spoil you until the end, even if it meant reminding you exactly who you belonged to every once in a while.

[leewritestoomuch]

hello!! could i ask for a hyoga x overworker s/o?

reader tries their best to impress hyoga while they learn to use the kudayari, and shows him their progress quite excited to hear his opinion; however, their hands are bruised and damaged from using the spear continuously without gloves, as the kept training day and night. hyoga didn't like this.

it's that one hyoga anon again! tysm for writing my request last time, and feel free to make my requests any way you want! i'm so down bad for this man i could read anything about him, honestly 😭😭

Hyoga’s S/O Overworking Themself

Okay. I wrote about like when you do something so much, you can’t do anything that isn’t it. Like that time I played 2048 so much I played it in my dreams too. Or how I play just dance so much, I have to pull myself away from it and I dream of playing it too.

I honestly think if Hyoga likes you, he’s like meanly nice. If that makes sense. He’ll give advice in shit in a harsh tone. Sometimes, it’s hard not to throw in insults but I think if he respects somebody, he’s not the type to call them anything other than proper so…

Tirelessly, for days now, you’ve worked on your form, technique, style, everything. You can’t get yourself to settle down to sleep because every time you try, you just feel the ghost of the spear in your hands. When you do close your eyes to try, you see yourself trying again. If you fall asleep, even for a second, you dream of sparring.

So you stand throughout the night, practicing on a dummy you built to practice on. You spin the spear, your hands tiring now. Sure, the bamboo doesn’t spin, but moving the spear to spin is wearing on your hands with every hit. Your grip is growing weak. Not to mention, you’re undeniably tired, but you just can’t stop.

Sometimes, when you think to stop, maybe finally being able to focus on something else, you think about what Hyoga would say if you do bad when you spar with him the next day. You’ve got to get it perfect unless you want your boyfriend to be disappointed. He takes so much pride in the Owari Kan style.

Even if it’s hard to tell, he takes so much pride and is so happy that his s/o is learning the technique from him. You can’t mess that up for him.

The next day, after less than 2 hours of sleep, you meet up with your boyfriend for a sparring session. It’s early morning, the sun is just now rising behind him. You’ve been sparring for a few minutes now, but the sun helps him realize something. You have bruises littering your body. Bruises, callouses, cuts cover your hands. A finger or two on each hand was wrapped up in bandages. Between that and the sunken in eye bags from your lack of proper sleep, he can’t believe he didn’t notice.

He waits until the end of what you were both currently working on. He tells you to just take a water break, but he watches you carefully the entire time. When you go to move back for your spear, he calmly stops you.

“If you can’t do it properly, don’t do it at all.” He says, smiling behind his mask. The look on your face tells him he shouldn’t have worded it that way. He’s not the kind of man to backtrack and stumble over his words to correct himself or anything, so he calmly adds, “Take a break. Proper rest is important.”

You finally realize what he means as color returns to your face. “But I n—”

“No. How much sleep did you get?” He asks, taking the spear from you. He stares at you, expression almost blank. It’s hard to tell what he’s thinking, but a part of you thinks he may be… worried?

“About 5 hours.” You shrug.

“Don’t lie.” He warns, which draws a groan from you. You look up, meeting his eyes briefly.

“I think a bit less than 2?” He simply nods at this.

“And how many times have I told you to wear gloves?” He asks, staring blankly.

“Several.” You mutter.

“And that’s for a reason. Yuzuriha can make you gloves.” He says sternly, eyes opening and flicking up to meet yours. “That’s the proper way.”

“Yes. I’ll do it the proper way.” You smile, finally realizing what he’s doing. Sure, it’s unconventional, probably rude in most people’s eyes, but that’s the softest he gets. Or maybe not. You can’t help but wonder if he’s got a super soft side you won’t get to see until you’re like married or something. That’s a question for later though, you confer as he tells you to go lie down and get some rest.

[greekceltic]

FAQ Page

She/her | 38 | I like cats and rain. My comic: https://catswaycomic.com/ My Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/greekceltic My Ko-Fi: https://ko-fi.com/greekceltic Other links: https://linktr.ee/greekceltic Sorry in advance if you send me a message and I don't get back to you, I tend not to stress over messages/asks. I do try to read them though, and I'm always open to being asked questions about characters or my headworld/stories. I am already aware that my art is being copied. They're blocked. Please stop telling me about it. Rest of my FAQ is under the cut >

Can I repost your work? I don't mind as long as I'm credited. I'm less okay with my work being used as a pageviews grab, but it's probably not worth my time to care. If it's something I've selected to take down and don't have posted anymore, don't. If it's something you commissioned, go for it. You don't need to credit me every time you share it. Once in a while is cool.

Are you okay with fanart? What about OC interactions? Can I post it? Sure, just don't profit off of it and please credit me. If you want to draw my OCs interacting with yours that's also fine (and fun!)- though I prefer situations where their actions make sense. Alf wouldn't make your character cry, for example. He's grumpy but not cruel. Posting it is fine. Is it okay if I take inspiration from your art and concepts? I've been in a situation in recent years where another artist has taken far, far too much. It's a subject I'm pretty burnt out on. I recently saw another artist's take on this and it looked sensible to me. I'm just going to quote theirs. I have tried to find my own words, but right now I find myself more comfortable using someone else's. "Well, if you’re having to ask me for permission, either your design is too similar or you’re being overly nervous about a normal artistic process. You’re absolutely free to use my work as a source of inspiration but I’d strongly encourage you to think about the details from my design you like most, and remix them with other concepts into your own unique take."

Taking inspiration is something everyone does, but please don't become a shadow I get bi-weekly alerts about. Ideally your pool of inspiration will be many artists and concepts re-imagined into something unique to you- and that you're being honest with yourself about the result.

Your art is being copied! / Will you tell me who the copy cat is? I get a lot of messages about this and am tired. I'm sure if my art ends up somewhere it shouldn't be or there's something really worth my attention I'll find out through friends. Otherwise, I'm just sayin' get a second or third opinion before coming to my inbox. I probably already know about it.

I sent you a message and you didn't respond. Sorry about that. I tend not to stress about messages because it can be a drain. You're more likely to get a response if you let me know from the get go what you want, but nothing is guaranteed. Sometimes I didn't see it, sometimes I got busy or forgot, sometimes I plan to do it later, sometimes I just opted out. It's not personal. Where do you Rp? Are you looking for more partners? Discord mostly. Roleplay consumes a lot of time so these days I mostly only play with my buddy Thema. I probably wouldn't have time to play, but I like to hang around people that do and I don't mind being asked. Just please don't be sad if I never get around to responding! I'm most compatible with people who are comfortable with radio silence.

Can I use your characters in roleplay/as roleplay refs? Considering I actively roleplay my OCs and there's a potential for confusion, I'd rather you didn't. Though I think there's a difference between linking to my art and saying 'this is my character', and linking to it to say 'this has the mood I'm going for, but here's what's different about my character--'. The latter is fine.

Can I make Fan OCs for your setting? Thinking about this makes me tired. Maybe I'll get to a point where I'm more comfortable later, but for now I'd rather you didn't make something directly from my worlds. But lets be real, you don't need my permission to draw cat monsters and I take a huge amount of inspiration from ancient history. Many of my concepts are inspired by things that you can read about and be inspired too. If you see something and are curious if there's a historical source, just ask. Hopefully I'll remember.

Do I have permission to draw NSFW art of your characters? No, for a plethora of reasons, some easy to explain and some not, but I probably can't stop you. Just don't profit off of it or show it to me.

Do you have a website for your OCs? I have RP pages for them scattered all over the place and many of them are outdated, but as I type this I recently put some up on Toyhouse. https://toyhou.se/GreekCeltic

Do you have a website for your comic? Sure do. It's an expensive fuck. https://catswaycomic.com/ When does your comic update? Sporadically. I work on it when I have time. My income is solely freelance commissions and Patreon- mostly commissions.

There's other places you could post your comic! Yeah, I know. I may do that someday, but for now I like having my own house, even if it's an expensive fuck. (Not really, the renewal just hits around tax time, Lol).

[afewproblems]

agree with steve not forgiving eddie! how do you think it would go when they see each other for the first time after everything? like.. I feel like steve would just tell him it’s over for good but :O

Part one, part two, part three

The record label releases a statement, something to the effect of privacy concerns, not to misconstrue or blow things out of proportion because photos can be manipulated. There is no firm denial, but no confirmation either. It's all wishy washy bullshit.

It's like Steve's heart breaks all over again.

He doesn't speak to the press, despite redoubling their efforts to talk to him, Steve unplugs their home phone permanently, wraps it up in the cord and puts it in the back of the bedroom closet.

Eddie does try calling Steve's cell, but he never leaves a message, as though he knows they would go unheard.

After the initial visit from Wayne he ends up calling his de facto father in-law once a week. It's nice, it's the one good thing that has come out of this whole situation.

And Wayne doesn't seem to mind being their go between, especially since he's a lot less subtle than he thinks, asking pointed questions about how Steve is feeling, how he's handling the LOA.

It's a relief to say the least, talking to Eddie without talking to him, it allows him to breath.

It's quiet for about two weeks, the coverage of the photo and the story has dwindled significantly and the media seem to have moved on from talking about them, finally.

Steve's LOA is almost over, he's confirmed with Liz that he can return to the classroom next week as planned which leaves him in the highest spirits he's been in all month.

But of course it can't last.

The first time Steve sees Eddie is on Conan.

It's a Thursday night, Steve channel surfs absently. He's left the living room dim, the only lights from the television and the Chicago cityscape glowing through the living room window.

He lands on NBC for just a moment and freezes when he hears Gareths familiar voice speaking.

Gareth, Eddie, Jeff, and Grant are all seated on the set couch with Andy Richter. Conan asks a few questions about their tour, their recent resurgence in popularity from the movie, their favorite Marvel characters from the franchise that skyrocketed them back into the public scene.

Its a standard interview, Conan keeps it light, easy-going, not a single mention of the infamous photo.

Logically Steve knows this is most likely a mandate from the band's manager but it doesn't feel that way, it feels like a slap to the face if he's being honest with himself.

Did he imagine it? Had he blown this whole thing out of proportion? Maybe he was overreacting.

His phone buzzes on the coffee table he's left his feet on, Robin's face and 'Thing One', brightens up the room.

Steve moves his feet to sit up properly and he mutes the television with the remote before answering.

"Are you seeing this shit?" she growls on the line.

Steve laughs, "Hello to you too," he leans into the worn cushions of the couch and tries not to think of the second empty divot in the middle next to him, "yeah I'm seeing it".

"And they're not going to talk about it at all? Like what about journalistic integrity and all that shit?"

Steve rolls his eyes and snorts into the receiver, "I don't think Late Night counts as journalism Bobs--"

"Still," she huffs out.

Robin is quiet for a second before she says softly, "you okay?"

"No," he whispers, "but I think I'm the closest I'll be for awhile," he draws a heavy hand through his hair and ignores the cameras which have now panned to Eddie who looks pensive on screen.

He's not speaking, in fact Eddie hasn't said a word the entire interview. He looks tired, his normally pale face has turned sallow and drawn with deep purple bags under his eyes that even the show makeup has not covered.

Steve looks away from the screen and ignores the dull ache in his chest.

"I'm glad that it's not all over the news anymore," he admits after a moment, "but, its almost like it never happened".

Robin hums sympathetically on the line, "Twenty-four hour news cycle, they've probably found some new scandle to follow," she's quiet for another second, "he looks like shit".

Steve barks out a surprised laugh that trails off sharply, he chews his lip for a second, "is it crazy that I'm worried about him? He looks likes he's not sleeping--"

"Steve..."

"I know, I know, I'm am angry with him and I don't think that will go away any time soon, but look at him".

The camera angle switches to a wide shot of the whole group and Eddie stands out so starkly amongst the other band members that are put together, smiling, engaged in the conversation.

Verses the silent, pale ghost that Steve doesn't even recognize.

"Do not let that kicked puppy thing let him off the hook Steve," Robin says, the words are sharp but the tone is still gentle, "he hurt you just because you had a fight--"

"Maybe it wasn't that simple!"

"Steve..."

"I miss my husband Robin, I can't, I fucking hate that he did this but I miss him so much," he says, his voice wobbles slightly as Conan holds up a large version of Corroded Coffin's latest album on the desk before gesturing to the stage area to reveal their setup to start playing.

"I feel like there's something wrong with me," Steve says, giving voice to the smallest parts of himself that have been festering inside of him the last couple of days.

The longer they're apart, the longer he refuses to speak to Eddie to more these thoughts have been creeping in. Maybe he should just let it go, maybe he can eventually forgive him and they can move forward again.

It's countered again and again by the image, the kiss.

Imagining the two of them together, Eddie with this stranger. Did he call them Honeybee, the way he did Steve? Did he hold them after and whisper other sweet nothings, promises into their ears?

It's enough to turn his stomach.

"I don't know what to do, I can't exist like this much longer, the tour is going to be over soon and then what?"

"I don't know Steve, you're the only one that can make that decision, but," he can hear the small reassuring smile on her face as she speaks, "we'll be here for you no matter what you decide, I promise".

"Thank you".

"Anytime Dingus".

***

The second time Steve sees Eddie is a month after the Conan interview.

Steve's back at work and the kids seem happy to see him, though they are sad that the 'easy' sub days are done. He's glad for the routine once more, especially with the end of the tour looming on the horizon.

Steve has spent the last week fretting over what to do, he's talked to Robin and Dustin about it, weighing the pros and cons. He's talked to Wayne about contingency plans for the apartment, if he has space for one of them to go there.

Steve is fairly certain Eddie would go stay with Wayne willingly if he asked him to, but both of their names are on the mortgage and he'd rather be prepared for anything.

It's Gareth that calls him, his name lights up the darkened bedroom while the picture of Gareth and Chrissy and Steve and Eddie at their place for Thanksgiving two years ago flashes on the tiny screen.

It's late, almost two in the morning, but Steve is awake. He hesitates before snatching the device with shaking hands and swipes a hesitant thumb across the screen to answer the call.

"Hey Gar," Steve says quietly.

He sits up, letting the covers pool around his waist and stifles a small yawn with his hand.

"Oh, Steve, I...fuck is it good to hear your voice man," Gareth breathes out, he sounds surprised, nervous, "I wasn't expecting you to actually answer this," he trails off and clears his throat.

"I wasn't asleep," Steve shrugs.

There's a pause on the line, Steve can hear Gareth take a deep breath and the hushed words of someone in the background.

"I, God, Steve, I'm so sorry, I hate that we weren't there for you," he continues, and Steve can't help but agree with that sentiment.

It's certainly felt like the only one of his friends from Eddie's circle in his corner was Wayne, he hasn't heard from any of the band members or Chrissy since this happened and he can't say it hasn't stung.

"And I know you must hate us for this--"

"Gareth, I dont--" Steve tries with a small tired voice but Gareth barrels onward, the words getting faster as he speaks.

"I won't make any excuses, we should have done better by you and the fucking label knew exactly what they were doing," he breathes out again and this time its infinitely more pained, "and I hate to do this Steve, I know you already told him that you needed more time--"

"You're coming back?"

"Yeah, we fly in tomorrow actually," Gareth says softly, "and we just, well we wanted you to know".

Steve feels his heartrate quicken, he swallows harshly against the sudden lump in his throat.

Tomorrow? Tomorrow, with no warning, no notice, and suddenly Eddie would be back. He'd be coming home...

"I want to see him," Steve hears himself say before he can clamp his mouth shut, "I...can you tell him that, I need to talk to him?"

"Oh, uh, yeah, uh," Gareth stammers out, then the sound is muffled for a moment as though a hand has been placed over the receiver, lowered voices murmur in the background and Steve feels himself drag in a sudden breath, as though he had forgotten to breath at some point.

"Okay, Steve?"

"Yeah," he whispers into the darkness of his bedroom.

"He'll be there".

***

The clock ticks slowly by, interrupting the quiet of the apartment and every time Steve looks at the clock face it's still only been forty minutes since Gareth texted to tell him they've landed at O'Hare.

It's like the clock is mocking him, the minute hand holding court over the kitchen where Steve has planted himself with a full cup of, now undrinkable, tepid tea.

He initially debated offering to pick them up from the airport, but the thought of their first meeting being so public, the thought of camera flashes and more people asking questions was enough to turn his stomach.

Even now Steve isn't sure how he'll react when Eddie walks through that door, his hands shake slightly and a flicker of anxiety runs through his chest because what if he's not alone? If he brought Gareth with him, or Jeff as some kind of backup or shield from Steve's anger.

Steve scoffs to himself at the thought, they'd seen a lot of Steve over the years, he's sure this wouldn't phase them. Maybe they'd even stand aside and let Eddie take his verbal lumps.

Steve sighs and grabs the mug from the counter before walking it over to the microwave. He sets it for thirty seconds and waits with his fingers drumming against the door handle. He opens the microwave before it beeps and presses the cancel button to reset the time before he walks back to the counter and stool he had been perched on.

Steve steals another glance at the clock and curses, make that forty-five minutes since Gareths message.

The sudden sound of a key sliding into a lock snatches Steve's attention towards the entryway.

Eddie steps through, wheeling his suitcase in behind him, he lets his backpack fall onto the doormat and softly closes the front door behind him. Eddie looks even more tired than he had during the interview, thinner as well and Steve feels that familiar pang in his chest at the sight.

Neither says anything for a moment. They stare at each other unmoving, and then...

"Hi Honeybee".

That's all it takes for Steve to jump off the stool and stride through the kitchen to the foyer, he stops just in front of Eddie, takes in his shining eyes and the sharp downturn of his normally smiley mouth and Steve's last resolve snaps into pieces.

He launches himself into Eddies arms and tucks his face into his neck, it's the first time he's felt remotely normal in the last two months.

"I'm so fucking angry with you," Steve hisses but the words sound more like a sob than anything else.

"I know, I'm angry with me too," Eddie whispers into his ear, he holds Steve even tighter as he speaks.

"I just, you're the person I talk to, about everything and," Steve bites his lip and curls his fingers into the fabric of Eddie's t-shirt, "I couldn't do that, I didn't have you, you’re my person Eddie and you took that from me, and so much shit happened here, you dont even--".

He's fully crying now, so much that it's harder to speak, but Eddie is holding him so tightly he can't catch his breath.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," Eddie says, his voice wobbles and wanes as the words tangle in Steves hair, "if I could take it back I would, I wish I could take it back Stevie believe me".

"It didn't mean anything, it didn't," he continues, raising one hand to card through Steve's hair as he does, "I don't know how to fix this," he admits so quietly its nearly lost in Steve's sniffles and hitching breaths.

"I don't want to lose you," Steve whispers into Eddies shoulder, the material of his shirt is soaked with tears and snot but he raises his face anyway to meet Eddie's own red rimmed eyes.

"Then you won't," Eddie whispers again, he sniffs and moves his hand to cup Steve's cheek, "we'll fight, we'll fight for it and I won't give up, I won't run this time".

"I promise".

There is so much more to talk about now, so much to apologize for, but for now, they hold each other in the foyer, letting the golden Chicago light morph into the bronze orange of sunset wash over them from the kitchen window.

[qwertycake]

more qpr fluffy squishy platonic writing prompts! wahoo!! part two!!! :)

Same disclaimer applies as my first post - these are aro- and ace-spec centric, may only work for shortform fiction, and feel free to tweak them to be less specific/more specific to specific characters.

Specific is a weird word lol

Anyways…

“We both get caught out in the rain and wait out the weather under the same shelter, and either we’re meeting for the first time or we have a nice excuse to hang out together” AU

“You annotate a book for me and I annotate it right back for you, and we keep passing the book back and forth until its a mess of affectionate scribbles that we keep on the coffee table” AU

"It's hot outside and you love the heat but I hate it and you're being stupidly nice and sweet to me while I'm a grouchy mess" AU

"I can teach you how to play this instrument if you stop DISTRACTING ME by looking so ENDEARING AND INFATUATED" AU

"Keep Talking And Nobody Explodes" AU

"We're both too tired to take care of ourselves because of sickness/work/school/whatever but we immediately find the energy to take care of one another via making tea and grabbing blankets" AU

"We trade clothes for Halloween and do terrible impersonations of one another" AU

"We have a bunch of unfinished craft projects between the two of us and decide to just... finish them all in one day... 24 itty-bitty hours... oh boy..." AU

"We recreate a terrible low-budget movie together" AU

"On Valentine's Day, we decide to make a bunch of garlic bread and cake, and buy each other flowers in the colours of our respective aro-/ace-spec flags... and then the day after, we buy all the chocolate that's finally gone on sale" AU

“I teach you how to do make-up because for one reason or another you’re unfamiliar with it” AU

“Fake dating and having dramatic break ups over silly things in public for shits and giggles” AU

“So, the world might have just ended… so guess who has two thumbs and a bunker that desperately could use a roommate?” AU

“We’re made to play seven minutes in heaven at a party and after a few awkward minutes of silence we both decide to just order a pizza or something while we wait out the seven minutes” AU

“Hey, you can dance, and I can’t, teach me— no, I don’t care that I’ve got two left feet, teach me!” AU

“We’re both artists, maybe of different skill levels, and we decide to draw/paint/make art of each other” AU

“I’m a night owl and you’re more of a day person, so whenever we stop texting because you have to go to bed, I’m stuck laying awake thinking about you Please Enjoy Waking Up To A Bunch Of Messages” AU

“I’m a day person and you’re more of a night owl but I struggle to fall asleep because I’m stuck thinking about how lucky I am to be your friend Hey I Think I Could Stay Up For An Extra Ten Minutes” AU

“We’re both nervous about going to the gym alone so we try going together… but neither of us have the guts to get out of the car so we just go for a walk or something instead” AU

“You’re super into sports and exercise and I’m just getting into it but you hype me up so I’m less nervous about getting started” AU

“I bake a whole bunch, you cook big meals… at the same time of day - our kitchen is chaos” AU

“It’s New Year’s Eve and we’re hanging out at a party and everyone’s speculating that we’re gonna have our New Year’s Kiss together but the New Year comes and we just do a weird handshake” AU

“Non-Fatal Hanahaki Disease AU where we’re some of the few people who don’t experience it because we’re content with whatever non-romantic thing we have together… but we both have hay fever and are very annoyed by the constant barrage of flower petals around us and have to tell our friends to Please Stop Crushing On The Random Barista At Starbucks It’s The Third Time This Week You Are KILLING US” AU

“We’re both alien test subjects who’ve never met before and have to try and plan our escape - bonus points if the aliens are specifically testing for something like amatonormative like All Humans Fall In Love and we’re the black swans of the research since they apparently abducted Only Romantic Allosexuals Aside From Us Somehow” AU

“It’s midnight and you show up on my doorstep unannounced after a long while of us drifting apart, what on earth happened?” AU

“We’re both capable of granting wishes - you’re the monkey’s paw and I’m the guy who’s stuck remedying all the messed up things you have happen to people What Is Wrong With You” AU

And finally…

“I’m laying on the couch at a party drunk/high/exhausted/whatever and you’re looking after me, having only met me that night - I proceed to ramble about how embarrassed I’ll be when I’m older and think back to how I made a fool of myself in front of someone I wanted to be friends with really badly… but luckily for me, you’re flattered that I think you’re super cool” AU

[woagopossum]

collection of old star trek au drawings that still fit my ideas sdfhlk. the headshots are about a year old at this point i was trying to do everyone,, got tired of that. pretty quick. The full bodies were take two but got even less far from august this year, i have little patience for line ups.

i want to make something sort of comprehensive at some point but idk if ill ever get to that so im just going to ramble ramble about the ones i did end up drawing:

Bdubs: he's an el-aurian, which means he is an empath. whos going to live forever. he's on the engineering team, but much to his chagrin he is mostly used as a rubber duck rather than for his incredible engineering talent. i mean i do think he's a good engineer but i think he's an even better guy to just talk at. Which is why I chose el-aurian as his species they're described as a 'listener' species (lore .) who have a deep contention with time. which just screamed bbubs to me.

Cub: I just think he would make a really funny Vulcan. Sorry I havent thought in depth about this one. It was mostly inspired by his like, his usually very consistent way of speaking, just the way he inflects feels like he could be a Vulcan. if they were from Chicago i guess. Science division ofc.

Doc: in my mind he is the perfect Orion. He's green pack it up. But also orions are usually used as like, stock mafia pirate insert villains and star trek, so it like doubly fits his vibe to me. He's something along the lines of a disgraced orion mad scientist who's found a second chance in the federation. He's the hermitcrafts current science officer.

Hypno: i think I've settled on him being a betazoid just for the hypnosis psychic powers sort of bit. He's on the security team and I think he works with Xb and Keralis to smuggle goods on the ship for fun. This is a very important role in star trek trust me.

Wels: I don't have a whole lot on him rn but he has such bajoran vibes to me. He's also on security.

Cleo: Borg are basically like zombies so Cleo as an formerly assimilated Borg just made sense to me. They're the ships chief medical officer. To me Cleo is like in the center of a triangle with Beverly Bones and Bashir at each point so it just fit in my mind. I think her backstory would be somewhat similar to seven of nines, getting assimilated young but instead of being thrown right into the horrors of voyager like seven she got to like, chill a little bit after being unassimilated.

Joe: Joe is a joined trill but he's the first host of the Hills symbiont. So e's still just like that it doesn't have anything to do with the worm. I've considered making him the ships counselor, to go in line with the star trek tradition of ship counselors who maybe should have a different job, but I'm not sure about it.

Tango: Tangos a catboy. I mean caitian. He's the chief engineer. I also don't have much else beyond that for him yet.

Impulse: he's impulse :) hes like impulse. but in space . He's another engineer. i haven't worked out much else,

[lizzietrashkittie]

Having art block sucks.

Here's some things I do to help myself work through it while still being creative:

● Play with a different brush/program then your used to. Just start doodling with it. See how it feels, see how it might influence how you handle certain lines in your work. Don't focus on mastering it, just play with it.

● Play with Colors. Google "Color Palletes" pick one that catches your eye and challenge yourself to draw with it. You could also set your work space into B/W mode and challenge yourself that way! Which could be good for working on values. Ultimately though, just focus on using the colors given in a way that feels most right for em. You don't have to have a fully rendered piece at the end. Just the specific colors.

● Play Dress Up. This ones for my oc artist! Take a character of yours and just draw up a new outfit for em. Use a base for their body if you need to, do whatever. Maybe try drawing them in something they wouldn't normally wear, or challenge yourself to include more little details then normal. Just dress em up.

● Play with Symmetry. I tend to mix this one with the dress up because it's easier to draw a fully body and outfit when you're not focusing so hard on each side being perfect. If your program has a Symmetry tool, click it on and go to town. When it's too overwhelming to draw a full face/body..draw half!

● Try a different Medium. If you normally do digital, try traditional. Or buy some cheap paints and try that. Maybe dabble in animation or clay! Sometimes your brain gets tired of doing the same old same old. So do something different for a bit to give it a small recharge. Even if it's something you've never done before. Or something you're not as good at. Any act of creation is valuable in your journey. You learn regaurdless.

● Play with a Story. Get a friend, doodle a little creature, and then pass them the canvas and ask them to give the creature a gift. After that, expand. What if you have this creature a hat? Perhaps it's at a party and needs a friend. Maybe a jealous ex appears?? Go back and forth and keep doodling on more and more of the story. Have fun with it.

● Remember, It's okay to be imperfect. Alot of artist will hammer it into you that you shouldn't have any mistakes in your work. And often times this leads to unsatisfaction, which contributes to art block. It's important to sometimes just create for the sake of creation. Let yourself doodle imperfect shapes. Let a few eyes look kinda wonky. Allow yourself and your art to not be perfect. You don't have to focus on every little detail all of the time. Breath. And just let the lines happen.

Lastly, remember that struggling with this doesn't make you less of an artist. And there will be times where the best option for you IS to step away and take a break from art all together. Again, your brain gets tired. That's not a fault in you and it doesn't make you less of an artist. Treating yourself and your creative journey with compassion is important. You're a person. And that's okay.

[lhoandbehold]

What Does a 100 Hour Work Week in Animation Feel Like So I saw (and commented on) this post remarking on the working conditions on the new Spiderverse film which were less than stellar. I'm not surprised, I was literally talking to animator friends about how it seemed like it was a tough project even as the trailers were coming out. But I think we see news like this break all the time - ah a game got delayed. Don't worry. "Oh the dev team is working 90 hour weeks until it comes out". Red Dead Redemption infamously had a manager brag about 100 hour weeks. Some members of the team on Sonic the Hedgehog did 120 hour weeks to update the model to something with much less human-looking teeth. It's all very abstract. So I thought I might provide a little insight into how different workweeks feel for me. For context, I am an able-bodied high functioning person who is, by all accounts neurotypical, but who still struggles with overstimulation and needs a lot of therapy. If I feel this way, then imagine how someone disabled is faring under the same conditions, and consider how much of a barrier of entry this really is to the industry. Disclaimer: I'm going to be describing a not great work/life balance from a practical point of view. I work a lot. I try not to. I don't always get it right. Please don't think of what you're about to read as how you 'should' be working in the industry. Whenever possible, insist on your rights to rest and live a life outside work.

40hr week - What would be considered a standard workweek. Animation is a thinking heavy job, so I’m usually tired at the end of the week, but I do still have energy to see friends, do personal work, go for walks, work out. I would prefer a shorter week but it’s doable.

50hr week - Probably my personal average if we’re being honest. This is not always due to the animation job itself - for financial reasons, I usually have small sidejobs next to full-time employment and the hours add up. This week works alright so long as I plan them well. Mealpreps, using google calendars to make sure I'm carving out time for workouts, cleaning and a bit of rest.

60hr week - I have spent a lot of months this year pushing 60 hour weeks and let me tell you, I don't like it. I'm tired. Social life and personal projects go on the backburner. I'm less delighted, less inspired. I still work out, but less. Wrists begin to tingle, shoulders sometimes get more sore than I like. If I fail to mealprep I end up spending so much money on prepackaged lunches. I'm processing stress in my dreams, so I often wake up in the middle of the night and lie awake. Light brainfog starts kicking in. I'm more sensitive to things not going my way because I just don't have much energy left to problemsolve anything that isn't work.

70hr week - This is when I personally start considering a schedule to be 'crunch'. For some the number is higher and for some lower, but for me, a 70hr workweek starts to really fray me at the edges. I have time for work, the commute and sleep, and not much else. I try to get in workouts where I can, to avoid my RSI flaring up too badly. I am no longer seeing friends. I am no longer drawing for myself. I'm not reading books. Maybe I watch a youtube video over dinner. It's not a state I can (or should) sustain for very long. 80hr week - This is where I'm hitting my ceiling. I have done this on rare occassions. My personal max is 85 hours of work in a week, and the personal record of maintaining it was 4 weeks, and those weeks were a shitshow. Cannot recommend. Towards the end, my shoulder was on fire and I had recurring headaches. I was doing all of my stretches and still managing the gym, and somehow it was never enough to soothe the RSI symptoms I can otherwise usually manage. The should injury I got during that month still haunts me to this day.

And I cannot stress enough, I never made it to those famed 100 hour weeks. I honestly don't know how anyone manages anything above 60 for an extended period of time. I know people sleep under their desks to avoid commuting time cutting into work hours, but i just feel like the brainfog would render me incapable of making anything good or even passable.

[wintrsss]

『S/O with High Level DOOMs』

Fandom: Death Stranding.

Characters: Sam, Higgs, Cliff.

Request: Can you maybe do Headcannons for a reader with high level DOOMS? Like sometimes just forgetting that (other then higgs) their S/O doesn't have DOOMS like they do? Not in like a dangerous situation but more like teleporting behind them and scaring them accidentally. How would they react and so on with things that just come with being a high level?

Genre: Fluff, Headcanon.

Warnings: None. Reader is gender neutral!

A/N: I'm sure you only wanted Sam and Higgs, but I included Cliff bc I love him <3 let's pretend he knows abt DOOMs

Requests open!

.ೃ࿐

-

Sam Porter Bridges

You'll scare the hell outta him if you teleport without letting him know about it, but with how reticent he is, you probably wouldn't notice

He only knows a handful of people who have DOOMs and only two can teleport, it's rare for him to see one who can. Can't blame him for getting a little alarmed

He is more than happy to pass you some spare cryptobiotes in the case you getting tired from teleporting. You clearly need them more than he does

He will get a little worried once you tell him you're at a high level, with all the repercussions it has, but other than that, he won't dwell on it too much

Sam isn't very good at dealing with emotional problems, but he is a good listener. If you need an ear to talk to about those nightmares, he'll stay quietly at your side. Sometimes he'll say some things that Amelie told him to make him feel better, hoping they'll help you too

He'd rather you not resort to any sort of violence unless it's self defense; there's no need for it. But hey, if you really wanna let off some steam, you should do it to the MULEs or something to clear the area for future porters. Do some good with it at least, right?

-

Higgs Monaghan

Half of him is excited to see you at a higher level like he is, the other half wants to show his superiority to you in every way

Sure, you can teleport like he can, but can you control BTs? Nuh uh, didn't think so

So yeah, with the many times he tries to brush aside your dooms abilities as less than par (compared to him), he's totally forgotten at least once

But after the first scare, you wont get him again! That's a promise!

With nightmares however, he may not understand your fear in them, seeing as he's already accepted mass extinction. He'll probably just tell you to go back to sleep without any thought

But if he sees you really shook from it, he'll at least try to comfort you, but it'll end up seeming really half-assed; he's just not used to cheering people up

Higgs isn't gonna be the one to dissuade you from any violent urges you may experience with DOOMs, in fact he's going to fuel the fire and encourage you to act upon these thoughts. Only thing he draws the line at is you hurting yourself

-

Cliff Unger

I would not advise trying to scare him with your teleporting because you WILL get put to the ground

He wasn't an army captain for no reason, his reflexes undoubtedly prove that

But with how tired you get from doing that, Cliff strongly advises you to not use it so often, especially if it's for your own pleasure of getting a reaction out of him

You having DOOMs fascinates him, he'd love to learn more if you're willing to tell him about it

He can empathize to an extent on the nightmares you receive from this condition, having had plenty of his own in the past, he'll do his best to try to comfort you during the bad ones, rubbing your back and whispering soft affirmations to you

He knows he doesn't have to, but he likes to wipe away your chiral tears

Cliff doesn't want you following the same path of destruction he's gone to, so he'll keep on eye out in any changes in your behavior so that he can help in any way he can

[katsheadinclouds]

chapter 1

Joel Miller x gn!/f!reader

series masterlist - prologue 

summary: You’ve left a community formed by ex-FEDRA soldiers with a group of people in the hopes to find Jackson, Wyoming. Being the only surviving member of that group, you come across Ellie and Joel, following them through the wilderness. When you’re accidentally seen by Ellie, you have no place to hide. Or ability to do so, when your body shuts down.

rating: mature

chapter warnings: angst, explicit violence, anxiety, PTSD, trauma, minor character death, grief, no use of y/n, flashback

word count: 4.2k

notes: Here we begin! I know it’s a heavy chapter with a lot of dark subjects as it sheds light on the main character and their story. I hope you still enjoy this, comments and sharing is always appreciated!

divider by cafekitsune

You are hiding behind a rock. You know that the girl saw you, you saw her stare at you straight in the eyes. You’re not that far away from them and you know that you should’ve been more careful not to get too close. But you were tired and didn’t have the patience to stay as far back you had earlier. And now you can’t move.

You’ve been following them for almost a couple of days, keeping your distance and making sure they haven’t noticed you. You’ve tracked their steps in the snow, hidden behind trees, and kept behind them. They’re not infected but you don’t know what they’d do to you if they saw you. Maybe they’re not friendly. No matter if the other is a child. This world makes even the smallest person dangerous, regardless of if they’re infected or not.

When you heard the girl laugh at something, your whole body froze up. You haven’t heard laughter in so long. Somehow that also eased your anxious mind. If they’re capable of laughter, maybe they won’t be that hostile towards strangers. Then again, the man is carrying a rifle. He probably won’t hesitate to use it.

The rock was your only option, otherwise you would’ve had to stay way too behind. They could leave without you knowing. You don’t know how much longer you can carry on alone. And now she has seen you. You clutch your revolver firmly in your hands. You ditched your rifle long ago, when you didn’t have any ammo for it and didn’t come across any. It seemed futile to be carrying something heavy when you were at the end of your strength already.

You try to stand up, start your body, turn around, leave. Anything. But your body isn’t working. Like your mind and your limbs are disconnected. This is not the best time for this to happen, you think to yourself. This isn’t the first time either. You try again. And again. And again. Nothing. Your legs aren’t working.

Your breathing becomes harsher, your lungs burning with the effort to catch your heart’s erratic rhythm. You try so hard to do something, anything, but nothing is happening. Tears well in your eyes from frustration.

They can’t find you. You don’t know what will happen if they do.

The thought almost amuses you - if these will be your last moments on this helpless earth. That these could be your last breaths you ever draw. That this moment behind a rock, in the cold snow, under a darkening sky, could be your last. Not in the hands of an infected or bad people. But this.

You had a long run, but you have been expecting this for a while. You have done well. You’ve been able to fend for yourself, keep yourself alive. At the same time, you know you wouldn’t survive in the long run. Not with this broken mind, not after seeing the things you’ve seen. The things you’ve had to do to survive.

11 of you meet outside the school in an old and now rundown sports equipment shed right after nightfall. There’s no turning back now. You’ve thought about this for a long time, ever since Peter made himself the leader of the group.

There aren’t that many of you to begin with, but when there’s less of you, the more some people start to crave power over the others. It wouldn’t work the same way if there were more of you. Peter had made it clear that anyone, who wasn’t authorised, wasn’t allowed to leave. If someone leaves, they’re not allowed back. And since the group is already this small, even one person leaving is going to be a big loss in organising the community.

When Peter had brought up kids and how even this small group could grow naturally, without any outside additions, worry flooded into your mind. You had known him for a while already. You first met him five years ago in the only functioning QZ in Colorado, when he was still part of the FEDRA troops.

For a long time he talked about not wanting to be part of FEDRA and how he’d leave if he could. People knew about it, how people tried to get into the QZ, but FEDRA made up excuses of the QZ being full before shooting them. There was plenty of room, but they didn’t want to let outsiders in.

FEDRA took everything they could: clothes, shoes, food, medicine, water, you name it. And then gave the people the scraps, claiming they had nothing else to give. No one was happy. People were hungry, suffocated, desperate for a better life. But it seemed like a better option to be in a QZ than to be infected. For a while.

Peter had had enough and a small group of other soldiers made a plan to leave. They wanted to go to North Dakota in hopes of a more desolate area and it made sense. If there were no people, there also weren’t infected. He told you about it because he knew he could trust you. Peter was adamant that anywhere but in the QZ was better. It would only get worse and he didn’t want you to stay and find out what that would be like. He was convincing and the idea of leaving started to sound more and more appealing. Finally you convinced your siblings as well.

In the end it was a rather large group, about 70 people. They had to be careful to not get caught and that’s why the FEDRA soldiers were conveniently decided to lead the group. They knew what parts of the city to avoid, who were easy to ask to turn a blind eye and who were the good guys. That’s how the group ended up making it out without a hitch and your way north. Along the way you found more people to join you, growing the numbers similar to a tiny village.

But having a community of about a hundred wasn’t easy. Finding a place, making it functional, making sure everyone carried their weight was a lot to handle.

And then there were the infected, some in groups, some stragglers, who always seemed to surprise you. Not to even mention the raiders, who saw your community as an easy target. You lost people, a lot of them. Everyone killed people. Everyone turned into machines when your community was under attack. You had seen your fair share of blood and guts and you weren’t afraid to cause harm to others if it meant that you kept your own people safe.

You knew Peter saw that. He had always shown interest in someone caring and capable when it came to protecting loved ones. In the QZ you made sure your sister stayed out of trouble when she bought stuff from the FEDRA soldiers. Sometimes it meant you had to strike deals with the same soldiers, your sister staying clueless about how you dropped to your knees in dark alleyways or gave a hand job in an area reserved only for the soldiers. It was all for her, and your younger brother, who you tried to protect from the cruelty of the QZ. You shielded him with your sister from the public executions and people being self-destructive, even though you knew he was aware what was happening around him.

When Peter finally suggested you two could have a casual relationship, you didn’t think to say no. Afterall, he was the one who taught you to handle a gun and a knife. He was impressed how quick you were to learn and how ruthless you seemed to be. He took you outside the wall, making infected your practice dolls. You had a sharp aim and you were smart about your targets, making you a swift, almost merciful killer. To you it was like you were paying him back for all the knowledge he gave you in combat skills. It was fun at first, harmless messing around, something to take your mind off the world around you even though it rarely brought you that much pleasure. It had been like that for a couple of years.

After leaving the QZ it wasn’t fun anymore. You craved his touch only to scratch an itch, to get some relief for your pent-up feelings. And after, when you were putting your clothes back on and it was quiet between the two of you, you always realised how you didn’t really like him. There was something about him that made your skin crawl and your mind tell you to leave as fast as you could. He never made you feel good, and he never took care of you. You were just a body to drown his lust in.

He, on the other hand, made it clear that he had some sort of feelings for you. And you thought it would be good to have someone like that in the group that had got you out of the QZ. You cared about your sister and brother. You wanted to make sure that they were safe, just like they wanted to keep you safe. It was just the three of you and you weren’t afraid to stay on good terms even with the person who you didn’t like, just to keep your siblings protected. And if it came to it, you were ready to do anything for them.

As time went on the community realised that you had to cage yourself in even more. The fences you had built weren’t enough. You locked yourselves inside an old school, that had a decayed courtyard and green house in the middle. It was perfect, already fenced in place for you to grow produce and be somewhat self-sufficient. It didn’t have a lot of space, but it was still something. No one was allowed to leave unless it was their turn. You were part of the hunting group, making it out of the school every two weeks for an overnight trip into the wilderness. Each time you had to quarantine in the cellar for two days after returning with your small group, just to make sure no infected got into the school. Even though it wasn’t ideal, it still felt like living. Everything seemed fine at first. Everyone seemed to be making decisions together, agreeing on how things were run and to work rotations.

But then Peter raised his voice over everyone else’s. The restrictions started to pile up suddenly. There were only a few people who were allowed to use the radio that someone had stolen out of the QZ. No outside contact with anyone, no one needed to have that in the community. And the worst one for you, only a selected few were allowed to leave the school to go hunting or trading. Even though you asked Peter to let you go hunting, he was strict in saying no. You ended up begging him, reminding him of your skills.

When you met him later that night, you instantly knew he was angry. His whole body was stiff when he told you to get on your hands and knees. He was rough, taking you fast and mercilessly from behind. You didn’t stop him. You didn’t want him to. Because you were angry as well, you just knew how to hide it. You wanted him to drain that energy from you, you wanted him to make you forget about your frustrations. When you were lying in his bed afterwards, your back towards him, he explained how you were more valuable inside the walls. He wanted to make sure you were safe and he wasn’t able to guarantee that while you weren’t in his sight. You felt like the air was thick and you weren’t able to breathe anymore.

That’s when the weirder rules came into play. Everyone was meant to keep an eye on each other. First it was for safety. But then it was for control. Voices turned into whispers, your own thoughts about leaving became forbidden, and you were only meant to think about the community’s best. When Peter introduced the no touching -rule, the community turned even more sour.

No one was allowed to have any physical contact with others, not even a hug. Not unless you had been given permission. It was to get people to understand that touching was a privilege and only certain people were privileged enough. Families were guaranteed that freedom, but if you didn’t have one, you weren’t allowed touching. It was the last straw for you and you stopped whatever it was you had with Peter and it didn’t please him. He wanted kids, ruthless and capable, just like you. It didn’t matter if he had them with you or with someone else, you just knew that you never wanted kids of your own and you never will.

The forbidden thoughts became louder, and a small group started to plan an escape. Then it happened. Unceremoniously you snuck out without looking back. You had your siblings with you, a young couple who had had enough, a middle-aged gay couple and their adopted child in his teens, a brother and sister and one of the ex-FEDRA soldiers, who was allowed outside the school for trading with a travelling group.

She had heard about a community in Jackson, Wyoming, but no one had actually been there or even seen it. It was just a rumor that some other group had been in contact with them. Word travelled slowly, but there were whispers that other travelling trading groups had heard about it as well. A game of broken telephone and your small group had decided to trust the message.

One by one she got everyone weapons until all of you had at least something to protect yourselves with. You had a revolver and a knife you have been hiding under your clothes since your days at the QZ. Peter gave it to you and you wondered if you should leave it behind, but you also knew you would’ve been stupid if you’d done that. So you thought of it as a reward for enduring his senseless rules.

Staying in North Dakota with Peter and his group would’ve only been out of desperation for something better. And it wasn’t better there, it was worse. You were tired of the stress of being watched and controlled. Trusting a rumour instead of staying in the community was the last option.

If worst came to happen, you were armed. You were able to defend and protect yourself and others and you were able to end it your way. You just had to get out of Peter’s community. Only you and your older sister had been born before outbreak day. You remember only some fragmented moments from the life before. When the outbreak happened, it wiped out almost all of your memories. Like that life had never existed. Sometimes you picked up a smell that brought up nostalgia or you played games with your siblings that you knew you had played with your sister when you were a child. Your sister remembers more though and every time she brought up a specific moment, your tenth birthday or a trip to a museum, you felt like she was talking about someone else. You couldn’t recall a single thing she wants you to remember. Your brother on the other hand had only experienced life in this broken world.

He didn’t know what it was like to live a life without death looming over your shoulders. Your parents died when he was still very young and your sister took the role of a mother for the both of you. You were a family, nothing could change that and you were one of the lucky ones. Not a lot of people had the privilege of saying you still had close blood relatives left.

You were prepared for the trip to be hard. You expected it to be challenging. But you had still somehow underestimated it all.

It was the young couple who died first. The other was bitten by a stalker in a house that your group was clearing for the night. The infected was easy to deal with, only two shots and it slumped to the ground. But the bite had happened so fast. He didn’t even realise he had been bitten before he started to feel odd.

That’s when his girlfriend noticed the bite on his calf through his jeans. You had to get out of there, but his girlfriend didn’t want to leave him alone. So, she stayed behind. You can still hear the two shots that you heard when you were outside. Your group was quiet after that. It didn’t feel right to talk, or even plan what was ahead.

Then it was the brother and sister. You were running from a group of infected, who you came across unexpectedly. “They sacrificed themselves,” your brother whispered to you, when you were hiding in a ground cellar later that night. It was tight in there with the seven of you crammed into a small space, but it was warm, and you were able to lock the door. It felt safe for the first time since leaving the community almost three weeks earlier.

You had seen the woman, the ex-FEDRA soldier, look a bit pale for a few days, but you had no clue how bad the situation actually was until you were walking again. She got a fever so high that she started to hallucinate, and she kept talking with someone. You had to stop and try to help her, but it was difficult.

The limited medicine you had with you wasn’t strong enough. She wasn’t able to breathe, and her cough hurt even your lungs when you heard it. She was so weak and by the end you had no other option but to sit around her, while she took her last breaths in an abandoned van the middle-aged couple had found when they went looking for a place to stay in after you had decided to stop walking for the day.

Your sister took all her stuff and tried to make sense of the map she was carrying. It was old and faded and some places looked nothing like what the map was telling you.

After losing almost half of your group, you managed to get across multiple state lines to Wyoming and you got too confident. You thought they were a bunch of travellers, people who you could trust. You had nothing to be fearful of when you first met them. You were always so careful. You should’ve known better.

You should’ve known that people, who take you in without questions don’t usually have good intentions. When they offer you a place to lay your head, safety for the night in a small town that they had taken over, food to eat and warm clothes. You should’ve known to run the other way.

You didn’t wake up until late that next day after meeting the group of travellers. You felt odd, your head was throbbing and heavy. You heard slicing, over and over, and it turned your stomach. The smell in the air was off, metallic, sweet in a weird way. You saw your sister lying next to you and your brother was on your other side last night.

The room you were now in wasn’t familiar though. When you turned your head to look at him, no one was there. It was only you and your sister. You tried to lift yourself up off the ground, but you felt powerless. You had no energy. And you knew that you lied down into a bed last night.

There was blood on the floor. When you saw what was being sliced… Of course there weren’t others left. All the boys and men were seen as threats. And they had more meat on their bones. After a hard winter like this it shouldn’t have surprised you.

You couldn’t believe what you were seeing. And you couldn’t turn your eyes away either. Your brother’s face was relaxed. He was looking at you with his glassy eyes that didn’t see anything anymore. How could he when his head wasn’t attached to anything.

You took your sister’s hand in yours and squeezed. You squeezed so hard that you felt something crack in her hand. You heard a noise from her throat and when you were finally able to tear your eyes away from the horrors on the other side of the room, you saw her looking at something behind you. You followed her gaze and squinted in the darkness.

Bodies hung up from the ceiling, like animal carcases. The middle-aged couple and their son. You felt so sick, but at the same time adrenaline kicked in. Despite your sister waking up after you, you were slower than her. She was already on her feet and running towards the man slicing your brother when you were just scrambling to your feet.

Your head spun from whatever they had given you. The sickly smell in the air swirled around you and your steps were heavy, but you got the man pinned to the floor with your sister’s help. You reached for your knife that you had tucked into the back of your jeans, but your hand found nothing. They had taken it. The man was writing on the floor, trying to free himself. You wanted to scream at him to stop moving, and then at your sister who stood up and left you to hold the man down. He was stronger. He rolled you over, his hands landing on your throat. You only saw his mouth, his uncovered teeth, and heard the snarling sound as he was forcing all his weight on you. You pushed your hands against his face, trying to reach his eyes.

You heard it first, the cleaver that had slid across the floor when you had attacked the man. It made a deep whooshing sound when you sister plunged it into the man’s throat. A heavy spray of hot, sticky blood hit your face before your sister was able to push him off you.

She got you to your feet and led you to a room next door while you were coughing and trying to catch your breath. All your stuff had been picked apart. Your weapons were luckily still there, with more hanging on the wall. She slung a coat over your shoulders and then a rifle before pushing your revolver and knife into your hands. She only took a pistol, telling you to hold onto everything she had given you. She stuffed your coat pockets with whatever ammo she could find and took your hand to lead you out of the building.

You followed her, you trusted her. But you didn’t reach far before someone noticed you and hell rained down on you both. You couldn’t hear anything over the gunfire. Your sister turned towards you and you could see her mouth moving, screaming something at you.

She made you move and pushed you over a fence towards a dark forest. You could hear her following, you heard the fence clinking, she was climbing it. You turned around to help her.

And then nothing. There’s a black gap in your memory. The next thing you knew was you weren’t able to stop. You knew you had to run. So you did.

You just hope that she and your brother died fast.

It was an odd moment to see some other people. You had been walking almost nonstop for days, eating snow and pine and spruce needles.

When you heard them the first time, you were sitting on the frozen solid ground, trying to get yourself to move. She talked enthusiastically and her voice went on like a rollercoaster. She was clearly excited about something. You weren’t sure what you were listening to. If you were supposed to be afraid or relieved.

Then you saw them. A man and a girl. She was following him, his shoulders slumped forward as they trudged in the snow and root covered forest.

You hid behind thick trees and listened, but they were too far away. You couldn’t make out what she were saying, but you heard the girl talk almost nonstop. Was she holding a book in her hands? The girl had a clear voice, while the man kept his quiet. They had the same idea as you – walking behind the treeline, so you were able to keep an eye on the clearing while staying hidden yourself.

Her voice faded the further away they got from you. That’s when you started to feel your feet again and you were able to get up. You stayed crouched, as you followed them through the forest. You held yourself far behind, keeping the girl’s voice as a good meter for distance. You wanted to hear her, but just barely, so they wouldn’t be alarmed by the occasional twig snapping under your boot or scrape of your coat against the bark of a tree trunk.

You hid your mouth and nose behind a scarf you’ve had around your neck since you left your community, now dirtied by dried blood. It didn’t matter though. You still had enough fight in you to try to make it out from the wilderness alive and find that town. Maybe the girl and the man brought a spark of hope with them. And what mattered was seeing other people. At least you weren’t alone anymore.

[captain-mj]

Angels Of Digitalism

Part 1 Part 2

Soap sat on the couch for a bit, continuing to draw. Simon looked over his shoulder as he worked. 

He watched Johnny continue to draw. The little lines and different shades of grey. It didn’t really make sense to him until Johnny zoomed out to show everything. Simon followed each intricate detail, finding it all hypnotizing. 

Johnny was so focused, he had his tongue between his teeth as he worked. It was cute. Simon glanced at Alejandro who was still deep in his phone.

Ghost decided to ask a question. “Have you ever heard of Sacred Geometry? Your work reminds me of it.”                                    

“No.” Johnny answered as he continued to draw.

There was a moment of silence. Ghost was more than content to just let it be. 

Johnny stopped what he was doing to look up, all of his attention suddenly on Ghost. “Are you going to tell me about it?”

Ghost paused, not expecting the artist they were paying to care about that. “Do you want me to?”

“Yeah. Sounds cool.” Johnny smiled at him and clearly waited for him to go on. 

Simon nodded. “Sacred geometry is the study of the spiritual meaning in shapes. You know the fibonacci sequence right?”

“Yeah, in one of my art classes, we talked about it. If you use it while making trees and spirals, it makes them look more natural. One of the golden rations I believe.”

Simon grinned and Johnny smiled back. For a moment, Ghost wondered if he forgot to put his mask on, before realizing Johnny was just looking at his eyes. “Yeah. Exactly. Most of the time it’s just dozens of interlocking circles and spheres to make patterns but the other shapes are included sometimes. Cells make those patterns, atoms make those patterns, the solar system, the galaxy potentially our universe. All just boiling down into patterns that we can decipher and find the meaning of it all somehow. Circles mean the never ending loop, I believe something to do with reincarnation. The numbers that go into making them.”

“You think we can find the meaning?” Johnny asked him, looking at him with a strange amount of surety. Like Simon might actually know something. 

Simon laughed a little and immediately wanted to take it back when Johnny looked embarrassed. ‘I don’t know. Don’t think there is much of a meaning to anything. I think we’re just here and then we’ll die.”

“How nihilistic.” Alejandro gave him a glare over Johnny’s head. A very clear ‘we’ve talked about this and have you talked to your therapist recently and are you taking your happy meds’ glare that made Simon roll his eyes at him. 

“But if you find meaning in it, that’s up to you. Your work just reminds me of it.”

Johnny thought about it before laughing. “I think I know why! I used religious art as a reference fur some things. Especially angels, ye ken, cause o` yer name.” 

Alejandro and Ghost made eye contact over his name again. Yeah, Soap was not subtle about being scottish, but his accent thickened so suddenly Ghost couldn’t really understand it. He did find he kinda liked it though. 

“English, Soap.” Ghost decided to try. 

Johnny slowly looked at him before hissing. “Awa' 'n' bile yer heid, ye british bas.” 

Ghost blinked. “Yeah, that didn’t help. I understood that even less somehow.” 

Johnny grumbled and went back to drawing. Ghost sipped his drink and decided maybe it was time to bow out. The harnesses were done. The rigging all done. Roach would hopefully be finishing up soon. 

Johnny leaned into him, just a little. It was so he could get a better angle with what he was working on, but they were pressed close together.

Simon swallowed and waited for the usual panic that came from being unexpectedly touched so much, but nothing came. 

Maybe therapy was working. 

Alex and Roach stepped out of the room, both looking tired. “Alejandro, thank you so much for coming and helping.”

Soap glanced at Alejandro, really confused as all he saw him do was sit on the couch and type, but alright. 

“No problem guys. I’ll come every day this week.” Alejandro stood up and he and Alex fistbumped and Alejandro squeezed Roach’s shoulder as he passed. “Oh, Simon?”

Ghost looked up.

“Continue being cute for me yeah?” He winked and Ghost blew him a kiss. 

“Disgusting.” Rodolfo deadpanned. “Get a room.”

Alejandro spoke in Spanish to him and Rodolfo just shook his head. 

“I forgot to get you yesterday Soap so I thought I should make sure you come with us this time.”

The lights went out through out the building.

“Why did they put them on timers? Doesn’t even make fucking sense.” Alex turned his phone on as he spoke, illuminating them all. Slowly, everyone else got their phones out and turned them on. “Didn’t realize how late it got.” 

Soap hummed. “I thought you guys just turned them off yesterday…”

“We wouldn’t leave you in here. On purpose.” Rodolfo promised. “It’s why we sent Roach in.”

“Wait, where did Roach go?” Ghost stood up and looked around. He didn’t have his light on, but it wasn’t really necessary with so many lights already. 

Roach gently brushed his hand and Ghost tensed for a moment, before calming when he saw it was just Roach. “There you are. Don’t wander off in the dark.” He grabbed his hand. 

Rodolfo rubbed his temples. “Alright, let’s try to find the exit.” 

They all fumbled around in the dark for a while. Soap awkwardly bumped into more people than he ever wanted to. He found the door though and everyone escaped the dark venue. 

Ghost put on his helmet but perched on his motorcycle for a few minutes. Soap didn’t know why, but he waited with him.

Rodolfo did a quick head count of everyone before nodding. “Alright, everyone’s good to go home. Alex, remember, thirty minutes between edibles.”

“No.”

“Kill yourself then. Roach, please be careful in that car. It looks evil.”

Roach saluted him. 

“Ghost, remember to take your meds.” 

Ghost visibly shrank and crossed his arms. “Yeah, I fucking will.”

“Soap. Keep up the good work.”

“Wait, does Alejandro not get berated for something?? And why does Soap just get a keep up the good work?” Alex immediately complained. 

Rodolfo shrugged. “Soap is my favorite coworker and Alejandro is a guest.”

Alejandro gasped. “Mi sol, a guest?? I am a guest??”

“Yes. You’re a guest star. But still a guest. You’re not on a contract right now.”

“Wow, are we not friends?” Ghost scoffed.

“We are friends. It’s how I knew you weren’t going to take your meds, Roach was going to speed, and Alex was going to get high. I don’t know what Soap does when he’s not here!”

Soap hummed. “Mostly just take online college classes and commissions.”

“Boring. I can’t say anything about that. Oh, make sure you get grades??” Rodolfo scoffed and motioned towards Soap. “Get a better haircut??”

“I like his mohawk.” Roach used an app on his phone so it sounded like the vocaloid he used. Soap thought that was pretty neat. “Plus, more importantly, I was not going to speed.”

“We have the Life360 app. Your top speed coming in was 95 miles. Ghost is a safer driver than you. And he doesn’t even have a license.”

“You don’t have a license?” Soap turned to him. 

Ghost threw his leg over his motorcycle so he could get on properly. “Goodnight. I totally have a license.”

“Let’s see it then.”

“It has my face.”

“You can cover it up!” 

Ghost revved his engine. “No.” He two finger saluted everyone and left quickly. 

Roach watched him go with this… almost soft look in his eyes. He looked at Soap and held out a piece of gum. 

Soap took it and popped it in his mouth, making Roach grin. “So, have any plans tonight?”

Roach texted him instead of using the voice app. “Not really. You?”

“Go home and relax I suppose.”

“Want to come back to my place?”