#and quietly work on the memes i owe

[seobluuu]

𓂃 ࣪⋆🛜˚ ༘ password not protected ⋆ 境萌花

in which y/n and the chaotic friend group invades moka's apartment for a totally productive study session. and when she jokingly entering their own name as moka's wifi password, it actually works...?

starring. sakai moka x fem!reader

word count. 1.5k

genre. fluff , friends to lovers , non idol au , illit members as supporting (shipping) bffs

the second you step into moka’s apartment, chaos follows — because where your friend group goes, quietness dies.

"i brought snacks!" wonhee cheers, dumping an armful of stolen chip bags onto the coffee table with the pride of a victorious thief.

a few bags slide right off, landing at your feet. you scoop one up, grinning as she adds, "and by brought, i mean i raided minju’s secret stash."

minju gasps, clutching her chest like she’s been shot. "you traitor! those were for my sacred horror binge nights!"

yunah, already sprawled across moka’s floor like a lazy cat taking up as much space as possible, smirks. "too bad. sacrifices must be made for the holy ritual of…" she squints at the untouched textbooks in the corner. "oh right, studying." she throws air quotes around the word before launching a highlighter straight at your head.

you catch it without looking — years of yunah’s relentless attacks have sharpened your reflexes — and roll your eyes. "we all knew this was never gonna be a real study session. admit it, moka, you only agreed to host because you’re weak for us."

moka tugs at the sleeves of her oversized sweater and sighs. "i can say no," she mutters, even as you flop onto the couch beside her, stealing the blanket right off her lap.

she doesn’t even fight you for it — just like she never fights you for the last slice of pizza, or the seat by the window, or anything, really.

you smirk. "but you don’t."

"because she adores us," wonhee chimes in through a mouthful of chips.

moka shoots her a glare, but you don’t miss the way her ears go pink. so you bump your shoulder against hers, just to tease her further. "face it, moka. you’re stuck with us."

she huffs, but she doesn’t pull away. and when you toss half the blanket back over her legs, your fingers just barely brush against her knee. and for a second, she freezes. then she relaxes, leaning into your side ever so slightly.

you pretend not to notice. but yeah. you totally noticed.

iroha grins at the two of you like she knows exactly what she’s seeing. you kick a chip bag in her direction to shut her up.

study session? yeah, right. this was always just an excuse to be close to her.

-

your phone chooses this exact moment to betray you, flashing a dreaded 1% before the screen dims to darkness.

no. no no noooo

“moka,” you whine dramatically, shaking your phone like it’ll magically resurrect itself. “emergency. if i don’t send this meme to roha right now, i’ll literally perish.”

moka rolls her eyes but nudges her own phone toward you. “use mine.”

you push it back. “no, i need my phone. just give me your wifi password. please? i’ll owe you my firstborn child. my soul. my—”

a slow, mischievous smile spreads across her face. “guess it.”

you groan, already clicking on the wifi network. “ugh, fine.” you glare at the password prompt like it’s personally offended you. “is it… moka100804? illit4life? tonightisveryveryspecial—?"

moka’s lips twitch. “warmer.”

you squint at her. “…yunahisacheateratuno?”

yunah gasps, offended. “excuse you—”

“colder,” moka interrupts, grinning now.

you huff, then, purely as a joke, just to mess with her, you type in your own name.

connected.

“...what”

across the room, minju's chokes on her drink. yunah's eyebrows shoot up so fast they might fly off her face. wonhee gasps, hands flying to her mouth like she’s just witnessed a marriage proposal. iroha, who had been quietly observing the chaos until now, suddenly slams her hands down on the table, standing up so fast her chair nearly topples over.

and moka?

moka looks like she wants to melt into the couch and disappear forever.

“oh my god,” you whisper, voice dripping with disbelief. “moka. sakai moka. why is my name your wifi password?”

she grabs the nearest pillow and hides her entire face in it, her ears burning red. “shut up.”

“oh, we are not shutting up,” yunah laughs, already pulling out her phone with the speed of someone about to immortalize this moment. “this is going in the group chat. forever.”

you lean in closer, grinning as moka sinks further into the couch. “so,” you whisper, just loud enough for her to hear, “does this mean i’m, like… special special?”

the muffled groan she lets out is everything.

wonhee fake-swoons onto the floor. “i can’t believe i’m witnessing true love.”

moka finally lifts her head just enough to glare.

“so,” minju drawls, leaning forward with the grin of a predator who’s just spotted weakness, “since when is y/n the password to everything, moka?”

moka’s ears burn nuclear red. “it’s—it was easy to remember!”

“uh-huh,” wonhee says, nodding sagely like she’s delivering some grand revelation. “just like how you coincidentally always save y/n the last bite of your food?”

your head whips toward moka.

“or how you accidentally bring up their favorite band every single time we hang out?” iroha adds, giggling like she’s just won the lottery.

your brain short-circuits. “wait. what?”

moka lets out a strangled noise and buries her face in her hands, her entire body curling in on itself like a disgraced shrimp. “i hate all of you.”

yunah smirks. “no, you don’t. you just hate that we’re right.”

the room explodes into chaos, but you?

you’re stuck staring at moka, your heart pounding so loud you’re sure she can hear it.

“moka,” you say, voice barely above a whisper.

she peeks at you through her fingers. “…what?”

you lean in, grinning. “is your laptop password my name too?”

she squeaks — an actual, honest-to-god squeak — and flings a pillow at your face.

you don’t even dodge. it’s worth it.

wonhee fake-gasps. “oh my god, it is!”

moka launches herself off the couch like a woman on a mission, scrambling toward the kitchen. “i’m disowning all of you! effective immediately!”

you watch her flee, laughter bubbling in your chest.

but suddenly, everything makes sense.

the wifi password. the way moka won’t even meet your eyes right now. the way everyone is grinning like they’ve known this secret for years.

but then the memories hit you, one after another, in perfect, painfully obvious clarity. and suddenly, you’re the idiot who didn’t realize the sky was blue."

two weeks ago, at the café

moka slides her plate toward you without a word, the last piece of chocolate cake untouched.

“you’re not finishing it?” you ask, already reaching for the fork.

she shrugs, staring resolutely at the wall behind you. “not hungry.”

minju, from across the table, mouths, “liar.”

you didn’t think much of it then — just happily devoured the cake while moka pretended not to watch you with that soft, unreadable look in her eyes.

last month, when you mentioned going out with someone

“you’re going on a date?” moka’s voice goes unnaturally high, like she’s just been startled. “with—with who?”

you blink. “just that girl from my econ class... jeemin? why, do you know her?”

she stiffens, fingers tightening around her drink. “no. i just… don’t trust her.”

“jealous,” yunah coughs into her soda, earning a death glare from moka.

at the time, you laughed it off — figured she was just being protective. but now?

now, you remember the way her jaw clenched. the way she spent the rest of the night weirdly quiet. the way she never asked how the date went.

-

the apartment falls suspiciously quiet after your friends suddenly "remember" urgent obligations.

yunah with an exaggerated wink, wonhee and iroha with a poorly concealed giggle, and minju "accidentally" dropping half her belongings on the way out just to stall for drama.

the door slams behind them, leaving you alone with moka, who is now very intently studying the ceiling like it holds the secrets of the universe.

you take a slow step closer.

"so… my name, huh?"

moka exhales sharply through her nose, arms crossed tight over her chest. "yeah..."

"just… my name," you press, biting back a grin. "no numbers, no special characters. just… me."

she finally meets your eyes, her cheeks flushed that perfect shade of pink you’re suddenly obsessed with. "yeah." 

a pause. then, softer, almost defiant, "like… you’re the key to everything, or whatever."

your heart stops.

then it kicks back into overdrive, pounding so hard you’re sure she can hear it.

"that's the cheesiest thing you’ve ever said," you whisper, voice cracking.

moka groans, hiding her face in her hands. "shut up." but she’s smiling. that tiny, reluctant, beautiful smile that’s always been just for you. oh god, how did you miss this?

you close the distance between you in one step, gently tugging her hands away from her face. her breath hitches.

and then —

well.

let’s just say your phone stays disconnected for a long time after that.

but you don’t care about the countless messages piled up on your dead phone.

because moka’s lips taste like stolen chocolate cake and unspoken confessions, and you’re exactly where you’re meant to be.

seobluuu speaks 💬 ik i rushed the ending but i was too tired to write about the kiss ajkhsdkjhw im sorry... kinda only wrote this since there is a lack of illit aus or just oneshots so obviously i decided to take matters into my own hands :p

[pranabefall]

@jessamine-rose says : I wish you would write a fic where Reader ties up Blade shibari-style（╹◡╹）♡

Jessie my physical response to this is shinji chairing so hard I become a wholly separate meme entity. But as you wish ofc ofc. Wrote this for the blurb game.

warnings. ( BLADE x READER ) Shibari, yandere? Blade because this man is not normal, heavily implied sexual content but it's not as explicitly described ( are they having sex or are they not...schrodinger's sexcapade...???? ), reader and Blade are heavily implied to have a fucked up power imbalance, part 374858383 of me never writing blade and reader having a healthy relationship, reader is written with female pronouns and anatomy in mind.

There's a rasping sort of breath in Blade's chest when you touch him, vermillion burning into you with a quiet consideration as the last knot is tightened and you shift just a little on his lap. A small victory ( a lie ) for once, testing him as you stay as still as you could and watch the binds strain against his arms.

"Don't break them." You tell him quietly. You want to savour it, this rarity, the momentary dizziness and euphoria borne from your aching fingertips and the flush of your face. Blade let's out a petering breath, his lips brushing against your shoulder.

"Why?" He asks, prodding away at you.

"They're expensive, that's why. And you promised." You emphasize that work. Blade always kept his end of the deal. You're a little selfish for exploiting it, but you've been strung along enough times to want to rake yoyr nails against his scalp and make him hurt. "You never come visit me."

Blade grunts. "I'm busy."

"Too busy for me?" You mouth off, thumbs digging into his collar bone.

He shuts you up with a stern look. The heat in your gut grows ( you don't want to whimper ). "You're the one who keeps me here." You whisper, feeling your throat dry as a lump starts to grow. You will not cry. Not in front of him, even if your ribs ache and your lungs freeze over and hurt the way needles hurt. "It gets lonely, you know. You don't even like me talking to the delivery guys."

Blade stubbornly tucks the flickers of guilt away. There's a jarring emptiness there, and a hunger and something not quite sane. Human but not quite, ravenous and animalistuc and wild and awful, awful, awful. "Forget it." You hiss.

He lets you settle, the stiffness in your shoulders coming to relax as you focus on the lamp against the nightstand. He'd bought that for you a few weeks into moving in here, when you'd tell him about the dark and the shadows that seemed to stalk the walls. The day after, he handed this to you, fumbling his awkward hands against yours ( and you almost trick yourself into thinking that maybe, against the absurdity and the odds and the keen eyed gaze that pressed onto you, the two of you were in love.

It was the only time you'd smiled at Blade ).

"Is this why you're tying me up? You want me to stay?"

You freeze when he says that. You shouldn't have. You really fucking shouldn't have.

A smirk curls over his lips. A part of you hates that he is as pretty as he is, lovely — in fact. It's nauseating, almost, the way human skin folds over the things that are monstrous and horrific and evens out to a smooth finish — he's the sort of face artist's paint, the sort that scultures sculpt only tempered by the pallour against the moonshine; corpselike and dulled against his deaths.

The words tear in and claw away at an ugly simmer inside. "I don't!" You snap. "You just owe me is all."

"So you want me to stay?"

"No."

"But you are upset I do not?"

"No — I mean — " A dry choke heaves out. You wrinkle your nose and bare your teeth. "Just shut up." The ends are fraying. Blade sits up proper, cheek brushing against yours. The gesture is soft, tender, a catlike show of affection. Your hips shift. He draws in a sharp breath, a sound through his teeth. You try pushing him back. He resists.

You try again, tensing as his lips brush against the shell of your ear. A terrified shuddering sound filters out, pitching at the end when he still doesn't quite move against a harder shove. "Blade." You whisper. "Blade if you hurt me, I will scream."

"I won't, foolish girl." He chides.

"Then lay back."

"No."

Your mouth is pressed to a thin, panicked line as the terror starts to branch, grasping against the eaves and grooves of your body. Blade presses his nose to the dip in your neck. "But you promised." You whine.

Blade sighs, like you were a child kicking her feet to a tantrum and screaming, screaming, screaming. "Not to break these binds." He reminds you. You wince.

He pulls away, brow pinched. A chaste kiss presses up against your lips. You feel burned where he touches you, and you lean in, steadying yourself as you grasp the red ropes drawn across his chest and arms. "My patience wears thin." He cuts through. His hips twitch. "Move."

[inspirationalucky]

Disney Princess Villain Songs

[ PART 1 / 2 ] a collection of sentence prompts / rp memes inspired by lydia the bard's disney princess villain songs. please don't add more prompts/memes to this list, definitely change pronouns, names, etc. as necessary for the situation! part two.

Tale as Old as Time (Belle's Villain Song)

"It's your final page."

"You see in this world, we're merely players."

"The truth is I'm the beauty, you're the beast"

"You thought we're a match. Sweetheart, I am far smarter than that"

"There is no one living that can challenge me"

"You're unworthy."

"What a genius plan! Truly, did you think this through?"

"I let you all believe I would go quietly while I sat and planned my hand"

"I have not spent my life reading books, my hours studying, to be some desperate prince's lonely wife"

"Wanna lock me away? Well, by all means, have your fun with that"

"I will be the author of my life"

"You're all idiots for thinking that you'd really make it out of this alive"

"You are nothing but a monster to me"

"You're not worth my pity"

"Not even one of you is a rival to what I can do"

"Don't you get it? This is my design"

"I've made all my moves"

Journey to the Past (Anastasia's Villain Song)

"Your new queen is speaking"

"A new age is finally here"

"Yes, the rumor's true!"

"Bow down now or live in fear"

"Starting now you finish last"

"You stole my family and my past"

"There's a debt that's owed. Justice to deliver."

"You'll be forced to right this wrong"

"This ghost's been here all along"

"Thought I'd found them, but then, how was I to know?"

"It's a lie, they just abandon you and go"

"I will never be complete until I find you"

"Now you understand!"

"You're the special few blessed to join my table"

"You're my brand new family now"

"Justice will be mine, I'll have vengeance for my past"

Almost There (Tiana's Villain Song)

"[ Tia! ] What have you done?"

"[ Tia ], you need to snap out of it!"

"I remember when you told me all our dreams are coming true"

"Dreams like that? They don't come for free."

"Didn't think I'd have to stand and see just what you'd turn into"

"She doesn't care who gets hurt on the way, 'cause she's almost there"

"Oh, [ Lottie ]. You're not thinking about the big picture!"

"If there's one thing Daddy taught me, it's that hard work don't get you by"

"You gotta be willing to play bad and give the cards a try"

'If a few folks get hurt on the way, well, maybe they should've learned to play"

"I'm collecting, and debts are due"

"I haven't worked this hard to stop right now!"

"You're scaring me!"

"Don't you see? There's nothing we can't do when it's just me and you."

"Do this and you'll lose me! Or don't you care?"

"Babe, if you're against it, I don't want you here!"

This Wish (Asha's Villain Song)

"You're so far from what I'd thought you'd be"

"You've taken one step too far, and hurt the ones I swore to defend"

"Well, I want my life to finally mean something"

"They say we're made of stars, but a star's more dangerous than they seem"

"If a darker path is what will free us finally, let me be the first to walk that line"

"My whole life I idolized you!"

"I followed your rules, did what I had to do"

"It seems about time you paid for your abuse"

"Shouldn't have dared to try and cross me."

"If I can be powerful, then I can provide everything we need"

"You see, I've been weak before. I won't be that anymore."

"I'd give anything to stop history repeating"

"I didn't want any of this to happen"

"You'll suffer for your crimes!"

How Far I'll Go (Moana's Villain Song)

"I had been the perfect daughter long as I can remember."

"But you laughed and you shoved me away!"

"When you push you'll soon find out how far I'll go."

"We could have fixed this so, so long ago."

"Now reap what you've sown"

"You've brought about all of our demise"

"You've spread fear to all of those around you"

"I could save them all. I could stop this curse."

"But you shut me out, you abandoned me!"

"I once thought that I had a loving father"

"Now you'll pay for all the lives that you've broken"

"You'll watch your people drown"

"All these useless and meaningless deaths? They're on your head"

"I take no pride in seeing them die"

"You won't find a savior in me, I guarantee"

I'll Make A Man Outta You (Mulan's Villain Song)

"The least we could do is give them a warning."

"I feel we could use a pep talk before leaving"

"Once you find his weakness, we are sure to win"

"This man's debts are finally due"

"Boy, was I a fool for trusting you!"

"Now, look what you've made me do! See what you've turned me into!"

"It let me know that my true calling was to see you dead."

"Most of you won't make it, but it's a sacrifice I'm willing to make"

"We've sacrificed too much to turn back now"

"They've been in charge too long."

[girlwithakiwi]

17 and then 18? For the ask game

From this meme

17.) Talk about your writing and editing process

Haha, my writing process is "jfc everyone is finally asleep and I have enough brain cells left over from work/errands to actually write shit down, time to put on a timer to write in 20-45 minutes chunks or else I'll be watching YouTube videos of caving/plane disasters instead."

For editing, I'll run a Grammarly edit for glaring errors. Then I'll toss the grammar-checked chapter from Google Docs into MS Word. In MS Word, I select the "Read Aloud" function. Since I have a double monitor on my desk, as MS Word reads through the chapter, I'll follow along in the Google Doc on the other screen and pause/make additional edits where necessary.

18.) if you keep them, share a deleted sentence or paragraph from a published fic.

Haha, this was a very long scene that got snipped from the penultimate chapter of the silhouette. In the original draft, Kieran (Jon) came back into the holiday party with Miranda (Catelyn) and ran into Lee (Davos). In the end, this scene was cut because it felt unnecessary and redundant, creating a new loose thread that didn't need to be introduced so late in the story.

Miranda nods at a few people they walk by, cheerfully greeting them or directing them towards floating plates laden with stuffed mushrooms, bacon-wrapped dates, and bites of cranberry-brie melts. Her arm still hooked in Kieran’s, his aunt leans towards him and quietly murmurs, “Stay for an hour more so that Stephen isn’t worried about you, and then you can leave. But at least try not to look so miserable?”  “He should look miserable from all the grief he put me through this year,” a familiar voice says from behind him. Both Kieran and Miranda turn to find Lee approaching them with an exaggerated shake of his head. He points an accusing finger at Kieran. “I’m already gray enough and you made it your mission to make me even more so.” “Glad to see you too, Lee.” Kieran offers him a small smile. “I’m surprised you were able to make it. Last I checked, you said you were blaming me for all of the holiday parties you were going to miss because of my manuscript.” “Well, just making sure the Senate’s golden target doesn’t get himself into trouble between now and your publication date,” Lee replies as he gives Miranda a hug. “Besides, if I recall correctly, you said you owed me several bottles of wine after this year. Considering the constant headache you gave me by refusing to answer most of my texts this year, I have a list.” “Did he now?” Miranda raises an eyebrow at her nephew who wonders exactly how quickly he can escape back to the balcony. “Giving away our wine collection now, Kieran?”  When he is not sure how to reply in a way that won’t get him into more trouble, Lee laughs and claps him on the arm. “How about this—let me eat my body weight in those cheesy onion pinwheels I saw going around and we’ll call it even.” “How is the editing going, by the way?” Miranda asks and Kieran gives an exaggerated sigh of misery and rolls his eyes up toward the ceiling as Lee chuckles. “Your nephew is one hell of an investigative journalist but there’s a reason we editors exist.” He gives Kieran a long, thoughtful look. “I should get writing credit for this damned book at this rate.” “If you want me to take another year rewriting it…” “Ach, no.” Lee makes a face at him. “I take it back.” “Well, I look forward to reading it,” Miranda notes with a pleased smile. “It will be nice to see all that my nephew is getting sued over. But I am going to have to keep on moving this acclaimed author to other parts of the party so his uncle knows he at least attempted to be sociable before disappearing. It was lovely to see you, Lee. You should find Amelia around here. I’m sure she’d love to see you.” Lee only smiles fondly and shakes his head. “You Hemmings will be the death of me,” he says, though his tone is friendly enough, and it makes Kieran wonder whatever happened to Davos in the past. Jon’s memories beyond his sealed fate of returning to the Wall are locked away, despite the weeks that have passed. He is not sure if his past self is keeping them from him or if there was simply no more to remember. The murky darkness that had encompassed Jon—the guilt, the grief, the anger—never quite dissipated, and he wonders. That’s how my story ended. But…

In the posted chapter, Miranda went in without Kieran, and a conversation with Izzy (Bran) about the meaning of everyone's reincarnation took place instead. That conversation made more sense in tying up the theme of choice that ran through the fic.

[hautevaux]

@gcldfanged asked: 🎲 MEME: kiss roulette. inspired by the infamous “i want the k” meme by deactivated tumblr user tastcful. send 🎲 to generate a kiss! potential suggestive/nsf.w themes may appear RESULT: A Kiss Along the Jawline || Still Accepting ||

"I do wonder why you keep coming here ~" Vaux comments idly, the line of his gaze currently focused on the fabric pattern in front of him that he is in the intricate process of cutting out. It's late very late in fact, and the door to the Boutique had been locked when he'd heard a tap to the windows out the back - briefly startled before letting in a familiar face. "Other than to request my aid as some variety of decoy in your little... Missions."

He was behind on work, swamped by the upcoming Gala and in need of focusing on the mental mountain of things he had yet to do. Now, however, he was partially distracted and endlessly curious as to what he owed the pleasure for the visit.

"-- so, come on then, darling ~ you must be here for a reason. You may as well tell me, instead of standing there quietly." Vaux continues, deciding to put down his pair of scissors in favour of offering his full and entirely undivided attention. When naught came, his brow quipped once more - folded arms released to hang by sides with a heaved and rather purposely dramatic sigh.

Booted feet approached, long fingers reaching forward to fix his company's lapels, feigning judgment for a passing moment before a cheekier smile drew to features. He raises to tiptoes leans close enough to his breath skates along the others throat before he angled his head, just enough to pepper three kisses along his jaw - slowly.

"All you need to do is ask nicely." He whispers, simply slinking through the archway to collect more material.

[bardchoices]

gonna be quietly working on stuff I owe; to anyone wishing to interact, feel free to send in some memes! <3

[janzoo]

Kiss on the temple (for the prompts :3)

(Original meme)

Now on AO3 too!

Setting: Aymeric's office...

"...And this is Lord Artoirel's report. I think that's all the paperwork I have that's owed to you," said Drakyr, handing three more pages over the desk to Aymeric. He barely looked up as he accepted it.

"Ah yes, with that, I believe all is in order," Aymeric responded, glancing over the top page before setting it down on a steadily growing stack of paperwork. "That will be all."

Drakyr started, eyes widening, as Aymeric returned to his work. A moment of quiet followed.

She cleared her throat. "'That will be all'?" Drakyr repeated, incredulous.

Aymeric paused. Sighing, he set his quill down and looked to Drakyr properly. "Fury have mercy. I'm sorry, my dear. I do not mean to speak to you so. You've done nothing to offend me. With so much work to be done - " he gestured to everything awaiting his attention on his desk. " - my focus has become all-too singular."

Drakyr walked around the desk to stand at his side. With him sitting, they had the chance to be more or less at eye level. One hand rose to his jawline, guiding him closer, until she could press her lips to his temple. He sighed again, this time in relief, in the bliss of the release of a pressure he'd only just noticed he carried. From there, Drakyr directed him to rest against her chest.

"Close your eyes and breathe with me," she said quietly. "Even if it's just for a moment. You'll feel better for it."

"I already do," Aymeric breathed.

[bentnotbroken1fanfiction]

I posted 768 times in 2022

That's 521 more posts than 2021!

54 posts created (7%)

714 posts reblogged (93%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@memes-saved-me

@bentnotbroken1fanfiction

@meowmeowbilly

@lazybakerart

@ariesbilly

I tagged 179 of my posts in 2022

#harringrove - 49 posts

#billy hargrove - 44 posts

#steve harrington - 25 posts

#writing - 11 posts

#max mayfield - 9 posts

#fanfiction - 8 posts

#bruises - 8 posts

#lol - 8 posts

#stranger things - 8 posts

#bruises on both my knees for you - 8 posts

Longest Tag: 127 characters

#fanfic writers and readers are the only ones that care so much about him that we see every fucked up thing that happened to him

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

Posting something that I added to AO3 a long time ago but can't find on my blog. If you've already read it, sorry. But I thought I'd add it to tumblr while I wait to finish some things I'm working on.

Billy lights a cigarette. Not because he needs one, he doesn't need much of anything anymore, but to give his mouth something to do while he fills Harrington's grave with dirt. 

The pretty boy owes him big time for this. Billy had plans for tonight. Plans that he had to cancel because someone decided to stumble into a den of the undead. And yeah, he didn't have to drag his bitten and dying ass out here and give him his blood, but he couldn't just let an ass as fine as that become little more than a snack. 

And sure , maybe his reasons for doing this are that shallow, but he's still doing him a solid. Billy never wanted to sire anyone, so this is totally out of character for him to begin with. Harrington is damn lucky he's still pretty. 

He heaves more dirt over him. 

Why the fuck was he even at that warehouse anyway? He had zero business being on that side of town, on his side of town. Maybe he should ask him once he climbs his way free. Then smack him upside the head for being a complete moron. Who walks into empty creepy buildings in the middle of the night? 

Harrington apparently. 

IU must not have a class on street smarts. 

He huffs a laugh at the thought of the boy taking that kind of class as he continues his work, and it only takes a few more seconds to fill it all in. 

He pats the dirt with the shovel and smirks, "Sleep tight, sweetheart. See you tomorrow." 

-

Harrington crawls into his new life as gracefully as Billy thought he would, which is not at all . He stumbles away from the grave on shaky legs and searches around frantically, fear and panic evident on his dirt smeared face. Once he sees Billy sitting on the hood of his Camaro, his eyes grow comically wide. 

"What the fuck? What the fuck is going on? Did I just climb out of a fucking grave? Did you bury me alive, Hargrove?" 

"Calm down, Princess. I saved your sorry ass. You'd be a bloodless corpse in a basement right now if I hadn't gotten you out of there." 

"Out of where? What are you talking about?" 

"Holy shit, you have no idea what you walked in on, do you?" 

Confused, he answers, "No?" 

"Jesus Christ, you really are an idiot." He throws the other boy a towel to get some of the grime off his skin. 

"Gee, thanks." He scowls, but he takes the offering and starts wiping himself off. 

Billy sighs, "I don't know why you were at that warehouse, Harrington, but whoever sent you probably wanted you to die," He watches the towel pause on his face, "or at the very least, beat to shit."

"I was there to hook up with a guy." He admits quietly. "He picked the meet up place."

And Billy knows he was the only human in that building last night, so that means that one of the other vampires had set him up. It's not like Billy's never hooked up with a dinner date, but that wasn't what was going on there. He had thought it was just an accident and that they had gotten carried away. But no, they had planned to suck him dry until Billy intervened. 

It pisses him off because they don't have to do that anymore. They don't have to wait so long between feedings now. They don't get so lost in their hunger that they kill all of their meals. So killing humans these days is unnecessary. It's an archaic practice that Billy despises. 

Fuck. 

Now he would have to watch out for those bastards. 

"I know it was stupid, and I should have left when I saw how creepy the place was, but I just really needed to get laid." 

He laughs at that. He can't help it. "I wouldn't have thought King Steve would end up literally dying for some dick." 

"Oh, fuck you, Hargrove." He growls. "Act like you don't gag for it too." 

Billy raises a brow. "Gag for it, huh? No, I'm not the one gagging, pretty boy." 

See the full post

138 notes - Posted June 5, 2022

#4

Posting a little bit of that Harringrove A/B/O I wrote last night. It needs some work but it's been fun working on it.

-

The first thing that Billy notices when he walks into his assigned cabin is that there is an odd smell in the air. It's faint. Nothing super obvious. Nothing harsh or musty, but just…different. Almost pleasant. He was prepared for all the insane amounts of Alpha pheromones permeating the camp grounds, the testosterone, even the B.O., so it was a welcome scent to be honest. 

He quickly forgets about it though, when he leaves to sign in and get the schedule for this weeks activities and the list of campers under his watch. 

But at the mess hall later, his nose twitches and he realizes that he's picking up the same scent he found in the cabin. It seems slightly familiar now…and it's coming from the camp counselors table. 

He isn't sure who it's coming from, but now that he's closer to the source he can pick up the familiar underlying smell…it almost smells like Max when she…

But there's no way. This is an Alpha camp. It's impossible for anyone to get in without having already presented…but yet…he's definitely picking up omega. 

He looks around in alarm trying to see if anyone else is noticing this. But everyone is laughing, eating, and horsing around. He's the only one that seems to be bothered. 

What the fuck is going on? Maybe he's imagining things. He's gotta be. 

Right? 

Yeah. He's just sensitive lately. That's all. 

So he ignores the feeling in his gut that something isn't right and eats his dinner and jokes with the other counselors and tries to hide the fact that his nose is tingling and his skin is itchy. 

But later, when he walks back into the cabin to meet the brats he's in charge of, he stops dead in his tracks. He can't ignore his instinct here. 

It's Jasmine…and honey…and something woodsy. And while it's not really strong, it's concentrated and more noticeable.  

The other counselor assigned to this cabin is already chatting with the kids and when he looks over to Billy he lifts a hand in greeting and Billy just knows. 

It's him. It's definitely him. 

He's the one.

Billy introduces himself. 

Turns out, the guys name is Steve Harrington and he's about to be a senior at Hawkins High. He's in the program to gain some extra curriculars for his college resume.  

And he's the prettiest thing that Billy has ever seen.

But he can't ask questions here. They've got a cabin full of newly presented 13 and 14 year olds. It's not the time or place to discuss this. 

So he just stays awake all night, keeping watch. Just in case. 

But nothing happens. 

That day or the next. 

But Billy does notice that as the days pass, the smell strengthens a little and now it's  affecting him. It puts him on edge. Makes him want to get close. Makes him want to protect…and that is not something that happens to him.

So he's gotta be right.

The only problem is that he doesn't know how to go about this. Steve Harrington seems to be pretty popular among the staff, the counselors, and the kids alike. He's asked around and he found out he's somewhat of a leader at his school. Nickname King Steve. 

So someone like that? Probably wouldn't want someone like Billy questioning him about his status. 

But he can't ignore it. It would be wrong. So he musters up the courage to approach him one night after the kids go to bed and they're all hanging out by the fire. 

"Hey, Harrington. Got a minute?"

See the full post

147 notes - Posted June 10, 2022

#3

So for me, Steve's six little nuggets speech was less endearing and more upsetting. Mostly because of the reason behind him wanting that so badly.

The boy is lonely as fuck.

He wants a big family so he won't ever be alone again. If he has kids, he will always have someone to love and who loves him unconditionally no matter what.

So, yeah. It more broke my heart than made me go "Aw Steve. He's so adorable wanting a bunch of kids and an RV to go on road trips with. UwU."

194 notes - Posted July 6, 2022

#2

Based on this lovely art by @angryhuangyu

Just imagine Billy waking up in Steve's body... 

He would wake up and stretch...and realize his ribs don't hurt like they should. His head isn't throbbing and his lip isn't pulling tight. It's strange because, after the argument last night, they definitely should be. So he opens his eyes and is met with an unfamiliar ceiling in an unfamiliar room. But when he looks in the mirror he does see a familiar face.

And of course, there's a freak out because what the actually fuck, but he would quickly deduce that if he's in Harrington's body, that means Harrington is in his. 

And if Billy had a typical white picket fence family, he would totally take the opportunity that fate has given him and run with it. He would love to just fuck with King Steve. He would love to just relax in his castle, drinking fancy booze, watching TV, and taking a dip in that sweet inviting swimming pool. 

But he doesn't have that kind of family. 

He doesn't have a nice suburban dad that thrives on a strong sense of family and community. He has the kind that thrives on pain and punishment. 

Which means Harrington is in serious trouble. Because he knows that he's going to wake up and wonder why he feels like shit. He's going to get up and try to leave. (He won't be able to because Billy is grounded.) He will come face to face with his Dad, not knowing what he can and can't say, not knowing the rules. 

He's going to say or do something wrong.

And then he's quickly going to find out the secret Billy has been trying so fucking hard to keep. 

And yeah, that fact would be irritating and embarrassing as fuck, but that's not what has him in a panic trying to find the stupid keys to the Beemer. 

It's the fact that as much shit as Billy gives him, Harrington doesn't deserve to be on the receiving side of Neil Hargrove's anger. 

No one but Billy does. 

199 notes - Posted July 16, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

It's been so long since Billy has heard another person's voice, but now he hears her. Soft but clear in the red tinted darkness. 

"Dear, Billy." 

It's Max. 

His heart beats just a little faster because that's impossible. She can't be here. No one can be here. No one but him. Him and the monster. 

But despite what he knows as a fact, his ears are still picking up that ghostly sound. 

"I don't know if you can even hear this." 

He follows it. Drawn like a moth to a flame. It's not like he wants Max to be subjected to this hellscape, but…

He stops where the voice is the loudest. 

At a gravestone….

With his name on it.

What the fuck?

"Ever since you left, everything's been," she pauses, "….a total disaster."

He looks around. She's not actually there, but he can still sense her presence. 

What the hell is going on?

He waits for her to keep going, but can only hear her quiet breaths, so he sits down, back against the mossy stone slab.

Waiting.

"For awhile we tried to be happy," she finally continues, "Normal. "

There's so much pain in that word. Even though he can't see her, he knows she's been suffering. 

"I know that's impossible…too much has happened…nothing will ever be normal again…" 

Billy understands. God how he understands. 

"I just…" her voice falters. "I just hope that at least you're finally happy…wherever you are." 

His throat tightens, because he's not…He's not happy. And…

"I'm right here, Max." He whispers to the empty space before him. "I'm right here." 

252 notes - Posted April 13, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[robinpixels]

for the ask meme, give me full forgefire rundown

@melikochan THANK YOU BOTH FOR MY LIFE I OWE YOU MY FIRSTBORN

ask meme here!!

who is more likely to hurt the other?

Oh, Aloy, definitely. This prickly little cactus getting accustomed to affection and care given freely, no obligations attached? Nothing expected back of her aside than work to keep the relationship mutually alive? Unheard of.

With Varga also being a very straightforward and direct, also hands-on kind of person with her love, maybe prodding a bit too hard at sore spots Aloy's not quite ready to tackle yet with intent to help not hurt, it still leaves Aloy off-kilter for a while and might snap and retreat to keep things at arm's length so she doesn't have to talk about it. Varga seems like she suffers fools just about as well as Aloy does, however, so to be honest I think she'd be VERY hard to hurt but definitely hold Loy to account if she ever goes too far.

who is emotionally stronger?

They're both VERY emotionally resilient, in their own ways, both I can see having gone through a lot when it comes to that. They just have different approaches--Varga quips and jokes about her turmoils and trauma to make light of it and make things more bearable, whereas Aloy intends to keepit riight by her chest until one day she fucking dies, and avoids having to deal with her own feelings as long as humanly possible.

However, I think Varga's more self-aware. She gives off the air of somebody who's acknowledged the problem, and has done some significant work in moving past it, and is really just well into recovery with a pretty decently healthy outlook on her situation. SO she can afford to give Aloy a helping hand with her own struggles and stand by and be patient for her--Patient, but not permissive.

who is physically stronger?

Varga's stronger when it comes to lifting heavy weights and direct power due to her build and the nature of her work! Forged like an Oseram through and through, that one.

who is more likely to break a bone? 

Aloy--squirrel of a girl who runs around and climbs and jumps and pulls off some really risky acrobatic maneuvers. She's bound to fuck up her leg at least once if she hasn't already.

who knows best what to say to upset the other? 

While Aloy can bring snappy words if she feels she's been pushed into too much of a corner and get Varga to back off..I think it's Varga here. Not in the sense that she's deliberately trying to upset Aloy or start off an argument--More in the sense that she can see right through her.

Aloy trying to escape having to confront something uncomfortable about herself, and Varga quietly dropping an observation about her that leaves her thinking hard on it for hours.

who is most likely to apologise first after an argument? 

Varga--she's moved well past the stage of needing to have the final say in an argument (thanks, Burgrend).

who treats who’s wounds more often? 

Varga--idiot reckless hunter gf gets herself in all KINDSA scrapes, smh.

who is in constant need of comfort? 

Tbh, I feel they seek it both about the same amount. They're both pretty independent and used to doing their own thing with indignation instead of validation being received..but they gotta admit, the validation is pretty nice.

who gets more jealous? 

Aloy since she's constantly fighting for her life against Varga's own weaponry on who's being called 'beautiful' and 'a good girl' that day lmao

who’s most likely to walk out on the other?

Both, again in a 'I need to cool down before we continue this conversation/I need space' kind of beat. Though Aloy more often/likely than Varga, who's harder to rile up.

who will propose? 

....Loy...because Varga really doesn't want to impose anything on her/'tie her down' or show that she expects her to settle with her.

who has the most difficult parents?

...While Burgrend isn't the BEST I don't think he'd give them much trouble. Things at most might be frustrating, and awkward, but they kind of give each other a wide berth. I'm sure Varga's mother would be nice enough.

who initiates hand-holding when they’re out in public? 

Varga, just to see Loy's ears go red lmao

who comes up for the other all the time? 

Aloy, coming up to see Varga up in Longnotch or wherever she's stationed every so often!

who hogs the blankets? 

Aloy. Varga sleeps without them just fine.

who gets more sad? 

Loy wears her emotions on her sleeve a lot, so I'd say you can notice her getting sad more often (mostly because she masks it with either frustration or anger and goes to kick a rock or sulk somewhere or something)

But they get sad about the same amount, Varga just masks hers by putting a smile on and just throwing herself back into work.

who is better at cheering the other up? 

Varga--but Aloy's getting good at it!!

who’s the one that playfully slaps the other all the time after they make silly jokes?

VARGA--A whole lotta elbow shoving between the two of them and "Oh, you sneaky little Glinthawk--"

who is more streetwise?

Both of them!! Aloy travels everywhere, and Varga essentially works retail. Could not get the jump on either if you tried.

who is more wise?

Varga, I feel, honestly. She's been up in the Cut for like two years this girl's had time to Think.

who’s the shyest? 

Aloy tends to be more reserved...unless you get a few Scrappersaps in her or even just put up a challenge for her stone-cold sober--she'll start on her peacocking REAL quick as Varga very well enables lmao

who boasts about the other more? 

Oh Varga's CONSTANTLY running her mouth off about Aloy, and Aloy always praising Varga's work on her weaponry wherever she travels--they're both guilty aha

who sits on who’s lap? 

Aloy, the rascal cat, since there's plenty of Varga to snuggle on~

[currentfandomkick]

Selina Steals a Bug from Batman to get her Kitten.

blame this post here for this thing's inspiration, and a friend for encouraging this.

--

             Selina paused when she saw ‘the lost Wayne’ news. She knew Bruce didn’t adopt another kid and forget to tell her—Dick kept her up-to-date on his new siblings and sent her pictures. No, her boyfriend Bruce Wayne would certainly not hide a new Wayne from her.

             He absolutely would forget to introduce her to a new family friend or potential bat. She was still upset about how long it took him to admit that little Stephanie had been working with his son for months and he hadn’t thought to invite the girl over for a meal or two when Selina was over. It wasn’t like she didn’t already know Tim was dating another vigilante… it was that one of her not-technically-my-sons was not introducing her to someone who had saved his life multiple times and who happened to be another Gotham vigilante and another addition to the batfam.

             Selina is their unofficial mother after all, she has rights. Any possible members of their little bat family, and she must assess them. at the very least, teach them more than just Bruce’s habits. The man was horrendous at showing his actual emotions, and the kids would need a counter example to that—herself obviously.

             So imagine Selina’s surprise when she decided to surprise her boyfriend and his children with a visit, only to find a young teen drinking out of Tim’s favorite mug, wearing one of Dick’s more infamous Nightwing hoodie’s, and looking at one of Damian’s katana’s carefully.

             “Who are you?” Selina had a feeling this was the latest “not a Wayne” and she would have to ensure her bats were safe from a fellow thief… again.

             The teen looked up, almost startled by her appearance and nearly dropping the katana.

             Selina raised an eyebrow.

             The teen flushed. “Marinette.”

             “And what,” Selina strolled over to the table and sat on its edge. “Exactly are you doing with all of these?”

             The girl was smart enough to look a bit embarrassed, she'd give her that much. Not without shame. Good.

             “Well, uh, kind of complicated, but, uh, the boys said that I couldn’t manage to grab their favorite things.”

             Selina looked the girl over. She was probably the new one to the group, the spotted French girl Jagged Stone mentioned in a few of his songs. She was young, and clearly good at getting what she wanted.

             “Where’s Jason’s?”

             “Uh, how did you…”

             “Answer the question.”

             “… behind the gardener’s shed. He really needs to stop leaving his keys in easy access pockets.”

             Selina nodded, looking over the girl. She was twisting a familiar looking ring… wasn’t that one of the Wayne family rings!?

             “How did you get that off Bruce?” Selina feigned nonchalance.  

             “… don’t judge me.”

             “Too late. Talk.”

             “Accidentally, I swear, just, he left the safe open and mid-terms stress and then…” the girl gestured helplessly.

             Selina could appreciate the honesty. She could also appreciate that the girl managed to get something off each boy.

             But now came the real test.

             “Kleptomaniac kind?”

             The girl flushed harder. “Yeah… I was going to return it, eventually… I think.”

             Selina looked over the girl once more, suddenly seeing an opportunity she should have taken back when she first saw Tim stalking her bats way back when. She could use her own mini.

             “How do you feel about cats?”

             Marinette shifted gears at that. “Real, memes, or Chat Noir?” Selina could feel there was a story there, one for another time. “If we’re talking real, they’re amazing, the memes are fun and Chat is…” the girl shook her head. “Complicated. And in London apparently, so he can’t judge me for my poor life choices.”

             Oh, Selina likes this one. “I’m guessing you’re Brucie’s latest pet project?”

             Marinette scrunched up her face at that. “I’m here to force a sense of fashion on this family if it kills me.”

             Selina smiled at that. “Oh, I do believe we’re going to get along wonderfully.” She extended her hand. “I go by Catwoman in the field.”

             Marinette paused for a moment before taking the extended hand with a grin of her own. “Ladybug—though we might want to go with something else for this... how do you feel about panjas bracelets?”

             Selina’s grin grew. “Oh, we’re going to get along perfectly.”

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

             In the Batcave there was a meeting being held by a distressed Nightwing, impatiently waiting for the others to finish arriving.

             “Batgirl?”

             “She’s not on tonight,” Red Robin answered, quietly sipping his espresso in one of his lesser mugs. It seems like his bean got to his favorite earlier…

             “Black Bat?” Nightwing asked Batman.

             “She’s running with the Birds of Prey tonight—Oracle’s idea.”

             Nightwing seemed to accept this. “I’ll just forward them the power point.”

             Red Robin groaned. “Another one?”

             Red Hood shook his head. “Blame B. He got it in Dickie’s head that this is how you explain things to people. Bullet points.”

             “No names in the field,” Robin snapped.

             “No names in the field,” Red Hood mocked under his breath.

             Robin glared at him for that.

             “It’s a very effective method.” Batman stated defensively.

             “Yeah, on the League,” Red Robin grumbled into his coffee. The Batfam is full of (not really) professional detectives—they are capable of understanding without the bullet points of doom. Mostly.

             “Then I’ll just get started, Agent A, Lights!”

             The batcave dimmed to show only the projection of a power point title slide ‘Marinette Cannot Meet Selina, Ever.’

             “What the hell is this?” whispered Red Hood.

             “I allowed you to delay patrol, for this?” Batman sighed.

             “Silence! Nightwing is speaking.”

             “Thank you Robin, now, Marinette is under no circumstances to meet Selina.”

             “Why doesn’t he have to use codenames?” Red Hood wondered aloud. Only to be kicked by an aggressive Robin. “Ow! What the hell demon spawn!”

             “Silence,” Robin hissed.

             “As I Was Saying,” Nightwing loudly began. “Marinette is not allowed to meet Selina. It would be a disaster for us all.”

             “Its not she’d adopt her like a certain someone is trying to,” Red Hood stated, pointedly ignoring Robin’s attempts to silence him with threats of violence.

             Nightwing changed the slide with a sigh. “Exhibit A: Marinette enjoys shiny things, and so does Selina.”

             The slide showed two pictures, one of Marinette in various miraculous while holding one of Damian’s daggers, and the other of Selina with a very large gemstone necklace.

“Exhibit B, they are both prone to theft.”

             The next slide showed Catwoman stealing a necklace from a museum, and Marinette in Batman’s cape while using Tim’s phone and wearing one of Jason’s leather jackets, Titus laying at her feet.

             “Marinette does not stop at shiny things, as we can expect of Selina,” Robin explained.

             “You’re just mad Pixie managed to get past your security.”

             Robin glared at Red Hood.

             “That doesn’t explain why bean shouldn’t meet Selina,” Red Robin said. “Hm, maybe I should change the bean blend again? not getting enough of a buzz.”

             Nightwing sighed, changing the slide again. “If the two meet, we lose all we hold dear.”

             This time the slide showed a photoshopped Marinette and Selina sitting on a pile of miscellaneous objects.

             Batman sighed, deciding his eldest was just being overdramatic again.

             “Mari will learn new tricks from Selina.” Nightwing stated slowly. “Tag team with Selina, maybe even be the Robin to her Batman.” That got the room’s attention, albeit not the kind Nightwing wanted. “It would not just be Mari’s minor thefts anymore.”

             Red Robin rolled his eyes while Red Hood snorted a “yeah right.”

             Robin looked nervously as Nightwing finished his powerpoint.

             “Mari would rule Gotham and no one, not even us, would be able to stop her.”

             Batman decided that they wasted enough time on Nightwing’s bout of paranoia. “I highly doubt Selina would corrupt her.”

             At that moment a beaming stripped heroine walked in, wearing a new string of necklaces, with Catwoman at her side with an amused look of her own.

             “How dare you try to hide a kitten from me.”

             Nightwing threw his hands up. “I told you!”

             Batman stared while Robin began checking their systems… no alarms had gone off anywhere and they all knew the pair had stolen the necklaces that Marinette was sporting.

             Nightwing was right.  

             “Holy shit is this really happening?” Red Robin half-whispered, looking back and forth between the pair and a shocked Batman. “Is Catmom pulling a Batdad?”

             Catwoman flashed a smile. “Since someone wouldn’t let me take any birdies, I decided to take a kitten of my own.”

             “Why didn’t you tell me I could have more moms here!” Marinette exclaimed.

             At the groups growing look of horror, Catwoman’s grin grew. “Oh, I forgot to mention, Harley and Ivy are back. They want joint custody. She’s the Marigold Harley’s been tweeting about.”

---

first thing i do after getting real internet back plus have the time to think, and its write and post this. hope you all enjoyed!

[pokegalla]

Just a Regular Day

I stretched and rolled around my bed for a bit. For a moment, I forgot where I was…I blinked a few times before forcing myself up. After freshening up, I walked down the castle’s long hallway. Right…I’m staying with the bad sanses. I know in my stories and even some people in the fandom say that they’re pretty cool….but shouldn’t I still be concerned that they could still kill me with no remorse….?

I slapped my face a bit and cupped my cheeks. Stop being such a chicken. YES they are murderers and YES they could kill you….but hell so can a rock. Or a dedicated animal. Besides not everyone is born evil….and they had a rough past. They aren’t really just….need help. A lot. Oh what’s the worst that could happen?

“Heads up,” Someone shouted. A woosh sound flew past my face and I turn to see a knife had almost hit me. Ah yes….accidental death by zooming sharp objects thrown by magical skeletons. The ‘fuck go back’ meme is popping in my head….no! I must be strong! I just smile and head to the coffee machine. Maybe coffee can help me….

“Hey kitten~. I see you’re finally up. How’d yah sleep?” I looked to see it was Killer who asked. I gulp slightly. Honestly I haven’t slept well since Nightmare’s deal required my negativity….so that meant having bad dreams as well.

But I just smile, “Pretty good. But I’m always tired. Just need my bean juice and I’ll be alright.”

I noticed he gave me an understanding look. He and the others must be aware of the deal….I finished making my coffee and sat to drink it. After awhile I felt a tap on my shoulder. I went stiff seeing Horror behind me, standing menacingly. But I quickly relaxed seeing a plate of food.

“Here….I made this….for you,” He said quietly. He looked pretty bashful presenting the plate.

“Really? For me? You didn’t have to….what about you? Didn’t YOU eat yet,” I asked. Why oh why do I ask so many questions-?

Horror just placed the plate in front of me, “Just eat.”

Honestly I didn’t even hesitate. It smelled incredible….and oh my god it tasted incredible!

“Thank you so much! It tastes amazing,” I said happily. Horror gave me a large, sweet smile. Killer smiled at the interaction while Dust rolled his eye lights. Maybe this won’t be so bad after all….

“A prank,” I asked.

“Yup. On ol’Dusty. Me and Horror already set it up,” Killer said.

Horror nodded eagerly, “It’s gonna be….epic.” I kinda doubted that it’s gonna end epic….

Killer picked up on my worry, “Don’t worry kitten. We’re experts at this! Tell yah what….why don’t you be our little cameraman? Just film his reaction.”

“But uh what if Dust gets mad…?” I asked.

“Don’t worry….I’ll protect you~,” Killer said flirtatiously. For some reason I feel more concerned. But I decided to film it anyway as we hid behind some furniture. We waited until Dust came in. Killer pointed at the chair, a swivel chair at that with a blow horn at the bottom. Huh….never seen this prank before. Dust didn’t notice it and he looked around suspiciously before sitting down….only to jump back up, falling on his tailbone from the loud noise. We all laugh, completely giving ourselves away.

“GEEEEEET HONKED ON,” Killer shouted. Dust glared at us and began glowing. Oh shit….Killer quickly picked me up bridal style as we all ran from Dust’s attacks. Jeez he’s trying to kill us!!! Horror then grabbed Killer as well and managed to outrun Dust. We all laughed even more.

“That was….awesome,” Horror managed to say.

“Beautiful work as well cameraman! You even filmed the chase! Told yah I would protect you~” Killer said. I rolled my eyes and smiled as I gathered some things.

“Yes yes you did as promised. And I owe you my life good sir,” I said jokingly.

“Whatcha doing though kiddo?” Horror asked.

“Giving a gift to Dust. Don’t want him to stay mad y’know? It’s only fair….at least that’s how I feel. I’ll just leave it by his door….” I said.

Killer tilted his head, “Aw that’s nice of yah.” They followed me as I left the ‘gift’ for Dust. We hid again and watched Dust see it…..a bottle of premium ketchup and a plate of spaghetti for Papyrus. His eyes widen and sees the note with it. A little apology note from all three of us. Dust stared at it before smiling a bit.

“Dumbasses….fine. Yeah I forgive yah,” Dust muttered.

“Awwww you dooooo~?” Killer said jumping out of hiding to hug him.

Dust growled, “Don’t ruin it.” I smiled at the three. These guys….are even better than the stories.

Just random fluff and scenarios….but I want to write a second part since this got mad long and I still need Error and Nightmare. Welp until then, enjoy!

[betrayher]

SIX MONTHS!!! six months to the DAY since i started writing this absolute hot mess of a lady. since then so much has happened - i’ve made so many new friends, and my life has changed in so many ways, most of them for the better. the community around this show is small but mighty and absolutely all thanks to @doctorobinson, bc without her i don’t think more than half of us would have ever seen it?? like. raise ur hand if it was stella who talked u into it. yeah. i see u.

writing smith comes with its challenges, but i think my favorite part about it is the evolution of her identity. i love nothing more than a sympathetic villain with a redemption arc but it goes beyond that even, into the territory of complete reinvention. the way she thinks of herself/presents herself changes completely over the course of the show and the way it’s coded (in both dialogue and occasionally costuming) makes me, a genderqueer mun, really happy. if you’ve been around for awhile u know i quietly hc her as genderqueer too. i just... really connect to this character, even if i think she’s a nasty little gremlin for like,, MOST of canon. especially then. i too am a nasty little gremlin. it is what it is.

anyway, here’s the “party” part. i want to celebrate those of you i’ve been writing with for awhile! those that have done intricate plotting with me, or that have developed a relationship between our muses through a bunch of threads since june. if you think that applies to you, feel free to comment and i’ll chuck her in your inbox with a little something that commemorates that relationship!

and for all the new friends - consider this a bit of a plotting call! i’m so excited to get to know you and your muse/s. i have so many aus that smith can fit in and i always love adapting new ones! let’s go on some adventures together :)

aside from all that, i will be rbing memes (and character posts from my archive) all day as i work on the bio i’ve been trying to put together for like,, a week now. i do owe a few starters, which i will be attempting to get through over the course of the day as well. you’re probably gonna get sick of me on dash! im sorry! such is the way of the smithaversary! 

[fallout-lou-begas]

Elevated Extras: Ranger Ghost Companion

You a Courier? If so, this might be your lucky day...if you don't mind walking a bit and your eyes are good. 

(Original sketch by @tarberrymentats / based on the OC Companion Meme by @falloutfandomeventhub / if you borrow this concept please tag it as #fallout elevated extras)

General

Name: Ranger Ghost

Location: Mojave Outpost

How to obtain: Complete the sidequest “Keep Your Eyes on the Prize,” then begin the sidequest “Giving Up the Ghost” to get her reassigned from the Mojave Outpost. Once freed of her assignment, she can travel with the Courier to monitor Legion activity throughout the Mojave.

Companion Quest: “Giving Up the Ghost.”

Ranger Ghost, like everyone else, is sick and tired of being stuck at the Mojave Outpost. Unfortunately, orders are orders. With the courier’s help, though, she just might be able to come down from that rooftop, but dealing with NCR bureaucracy might be a worse ordeal than Legion crucifixion.

Companion Wheel

I think we should travel together. You probably can’t tell, but that’d make me very happy. Let’s get the hell out of here.

Let’s talk about your tactics. Sure. Lecture the ranger on tactics. Go ahead. / What’re you thinking?

I want you to change your combat style. (humoring) Alright. / If you insist.

Use a melee weapon. Close combat, then. / Sure. We can hold their hands and tuck them in while we’re at it. / (Wild Wasteland Enabled) Try to remember the basics of CQC.

Use a ranged weapon. (stating the obvious) It’s what I do. / You going to spot for me? / (deeply sarcastic) Aww. Finally remembered I’m a ranger?

Be passive. Sure, give peace a chance. / Don’t go pacifist on me, now.

Be aggressive: Locked and loaded. / (mocking the company line) Right, and with “extreme prejudice.”

Enough about tactics. Agreed. Anything else? / Are we good, then?

Let’s talk about how close you’re following me. Is there a problem? / What are you...implying, exactly?

Wait here. Right. Things to do, places to be? / Holding down here. / I’ll keep watch here.

Follow me. Let’s roll out. / Finally. Don’t like waiting. / Right. Skip to my fucking lou.

Stay close to me. (sternly cautious) Define “close.” / Got it, on you. / Just don’t bump my gun.

Keep your distance. Positioning, got it. / Yeah, covering you. / (facetious concern) Don’t get lost, now.

Let’s trade equipment. Don’t get fucking handsy, now. / Just don’t hog the ammo.

(Overburdened). I’m not your fucking pack brahmin. / (exasperated) I’ve only got so many pockets.

(Sneaking). Staying low. / (wryly imperative) Quiet, now.

(In Courier’s iron sights). What the fuck is wrong with you? / (slowly, emphasizing) Watch your trigger discipline. / Don’t make me take that away.

(Courier lays mine). I’ve got my eyes on that. / You’d better have a plan for that.

It’s time for us to part ways. It’s because i’m a bitch, isn’t it. / Such sweet fucking sorrow, I bet.

I’d like you to go to the Lucky 38. Hm. Sending the Ghost to the haunted house. See you there. I’ll try not to spook the Securitrons.

We can meet again at the Mojave Outpost. (sucks teeth) Guess I’ll report what I’ve got back to headquarters. Hopefully by now they’ve got someone else watching the brahmins shit full-time.

Injured: (seething) SSShhit. / Didn’t want it like this. / (with conviction) I didn’t get off that roof just to fucking bite it.

Damaged Limb: (shout of pain) Fucker clipped me! / Sure could use a fucking medic.

Regaining Consciousness: What...what the hell happened? / (trailing off) Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck...

Death: (death rattle) / (weakly) Ghosts...can die, huh...ha...

Attributes

Aggression: Aggressive.

Confidence: Brave.

Assistance: Helps friends and allies.

Karma: Neutral.

Perks

Ghost of a Chance: When Ranger Ghost is by your side, so are the odds. In addition to gaining an extra 3% chance to critically hit, any single attack that would kill you may instead leave you just barely alive and invulnerable for a brief moment..

Drops, if killed

Ranger Vest Outfit

Ranger Grey Hat

Authority Glasses

Cowboy Repeater

Combat Knife

Iguana Bits

Grognak the Barbarian

Dialogue, Quest Details, and Ending Slides:

Dialogue

Why do they call you Ghost? What, don’t I scare you? Boo? Nothing? (beat) Well, if you gotta know, it stuck pretty quick back in basic. Not like there were many other albinos in boot camp. The all-white spooky bitch who shoots better at night? Yeah, that’s a ghost, alright. Pissed me off at first, but I came around when it started giving privates the heebie-jeebies. Just a little kick, is all.

What’s an albino? Albinism is a pigment disorder. You know, the color of your skin and hair? As in I don’t have color. Pale as a sheet.

[Medicine 35] A sharpshooter with albinism? Isn’t your vision affected? Done your homework, huh? Well, these big, bad sunglasses aren’t just for intimidation, doc. They only come off when I sleep. Sucks enough being photosensitive in the goddamn desert, but like I said. I’m a lot better at night.

What’s your real name? (the thousandth time she’s answered this exact question) If I told you that, I’d have to kill you.

Aw, come on. Curiosity killed the courier. Don’t push it.

[Speech 40] I’m just trying to understand my partner better. Then “understand” that I don’t owe you shit except loyalty. Just call me Ghost, and you’ll get that.

[Cherchez La Femme] Surely you’ve got a name to match that lovely personality. (flustered) Are you d-...I-...Yeah, I do.But you can just keep calling me Ghost. (quietly) For...for now.

What’s the deal with Ranger Jackson? Man hasn’t got a thought in his fucking head...which is why he’s such a good C.O., from the top down. He’s a nice enough guy on a good day. He’s...principled, for sure. But the man wouldn’t budge on an order from brass if it’d save his life. Stranded caravaneers get so bored and restless because of the impasse he’s overseeing that he’s started (excessive emphasis) “hiring” the rowdier ones for odd jobs off the grounds, which is why we’ve been “losing” supplies for a while. Gets shit done, I guess, but wish he’d show half that drive when bitching to HQ, but no. They tell him to sit tight, he says yes sir, and then he takes it out on us when we get frustrated at the frustrating bullshit.

Do you know Major Knight? (standoffish) Yeah. Good guy. Known him a while. Hell, he’s been at M.O. longer than I have.

What does he do? Repairs, mostly. With all the caravans backed up, we sort of have a monopoly on maintenance and upkeep. And believe me, he does damn fine work.

[Confirmed Bachelor] Is he...you know…? Is he...oh. Between you and me? Yeah. He and I are...alike. I mean, I’m the bitch everybody hates, so I don’t really give a shit, but beneath that…(thinking how best to describe him, ribbing him a bit)...accountant exterior of his, he’s really the soft, sensitive type. Needs someone to talk to sometimes. I’m that someone, sometimes, but if you get the chance...it’d do him good just to know he’s not that alone out here.

How can I best use your skills? Hard to find a way that’d be worse than all the wasted time at M.O., but I’ll make it easy for you: give me a target and let me shoot it. If it’s too close to shoot, I’m trained in hand-to-hand, and if it’s too far to shoot, it’ll never see me coming. Standard repertoire for a ranger.

What’s your opinion on the NCR? High enough to keep me enlisted, low enough to where I’ve got plenty to mock. We’re a good country, a damn good country. We’re the only real country actually left in the West. We’d be the best thing to ever crawl out of the bombed-out ruins of this war if it weren’t for all the bureaucratic bullshit, and the brass getting duller the higher you go. It’s all just song and dance and sloganeering to them out here. Whatever looks good on paper. They don’t give a shit what really happens to people out here, and if Caesar doesn’t kill us, that might. At least on the inside.

What’s it like being a ranger? Ranger training is the best, most brutal gauntlet this side of the Colorado. Hours and hours of days and days spent shooting, drilling, fighting, bringing the body to its breaking points, pouring blood and sweat just to get an inch past the wide-eye hopefuls who were always going to just wash out...and all of it just to stand on a fucking rooftop staring at ants and malnourished raiders on the interstate. I swear, if you gave headquarters a golden egg, they’d fucking cook it.

Were you at the battle of Hoover Dam? Was going to be, but believe it or not, I sat out sick. Got the fucking flu right before and was stuck at McCarran the whole time, half-lucid. Let me tell you, the whole tent of coughs and sneezes crowding around that radio, listening to the reports...when Hanlon ordered that retreat out of Boulder City, we were grabbing our rifles and getting ready to march out on foot, even if we could barely stand. We thought that was it. Of course, it wasn’t, and we cheered so loud when they radioed about the explosion that I hope Caesar damn well heard it.

Do you wish that you had been there? Of course I do. If I miss the next one because I’m stuck at the Outpost or some shit, I’m deserting with a dozen fed-up caravaneers to flank his fucking fort myself, if only for some goddamn excitement.

How do you feel about the Legion? Love ‘em. Joined the NCR because I just wanted to meet them that bad. Their new Legate’s such a heartthrob, I hear.

You’re not serious. (sucks teeth, deep sigh) Look. You saw Nipton. It was just a taste of what they do. I’ve seen good men die on crosses, and that’s a mercy compared to the good women. I hear when women sign up now, they get about five extra “are you sures?” from recruiters. Not officially, of course. Brass would never let people back home know how bad it is. But it’s just another thing that makes me glad I’m a sniper, sometimes. Engage at range. Out of reach.

What about Legion society? Do you know anything about life across the river? There’s nothing across that river. Nothing. (beat, pondering) Do you remember the Enclave War? Bitter, bloody, big explosion at Navarro? And the Brotherhood campaign out here? Even worse of a shitshow, but still, we won that out, too. But the Enclave and the Brotherhood at least stood for something. They were societies, or at least promises of one, and if things had shaken out the other way for the NCR at least something would still be standing here. The Legion isn’t like that. They aren’t “something.” They’re one big razor across Arizona, shaving everything down. And if we don’t stop them here, we never will.

What about their Legate? (with contempt) Lanius, “The Monster of the East.” Caesar must’ve plucked him out of hell or something after his first legate blew it at Hoover Dam. Word from recon is that the only reason we’re all still twiddling our thumbs there is that he’s out making friends for Caesar someplace, and he’ll be bringing them all back for a whole ‘nother goddamn jamboree soon. (tension broken by a funny thought; spoken dryly) Or should I say a Damboree. Since it’d be at the Dam.

Do you know anything about Mr. House? No. Closest I’ve ever been to the Strip has been McCarran, where I was too proud to get wasted on expensive booze in the casinos. As punishment, I got stuck with nothing to do but get shitfaced on cheap booze at the outpost. All I know is Mr. House runs the whole Strip himself, and there’s one casino, the Lucky 36 or something, that’s supposed to be all his. No one’s allowed in, no one’s ever come out. Frankly? Just strikes me as fucking weird.

Companion Quest: Giving Up the Ghost

After completing the sidequest “Eyes On the Prize” (in which the Courier checks Nipton for survivors), Ghost will remark that the Mojave’s going to hell, and all she can do is sit and watch. The Courier will reply that she ought to stop watching and travel with them, to which she’ll respond that her orders are absolute—but if the courier can change her orders somehow, she’d be indebted. The quest then begins.

= = = Stage 1: Deal with Jackson = = =

First, the Courier must speak to Ranger Jackson and convince him to consider Ghost’s reassignment. They can do this through the following dialogue options:

[Speech 80] This outpost is just waiting to be overrun by Legion. You’ll be the next Nipton unless you’re proactive.

[Speech 55; completed “Can’t You Find It In Your Heart” beforehand] Maybe I could tell your superiors about where I “found” these “lost” supplies, then.

[Barter 80] Ghost is an exceptional asset to the rangers. Stationing her here is a waste of valuable NCR resources.

[NCR Fame] There’s work to be done for the NCR out there, and Ghost is who I trust to do it with me.

[Black Widow] I’ve ways of making men come around...especially handsome men in uniform. (The Courier must then sleep with Ranger Jackson)

Note that the Courier can not simply complete the quest “Can’t You Find It In Your Heart?” as a favor to Jackson for Ghost’s reassignment. While he’ll let a caravaneer go, it’ll take more than clearing some ants from the road to get him to compromise his standing force and let go of a ranger. 

Alternatively, Jackson’s death will advance the quest.

Kill Jackson. Similar to Cass’ companion quest, Jackson can simply be killed. However, Ghost is far less sympathetic to this course of action and will confront the Courier over the murder. If Jackson is simply killed, the Courier will either need a convincing alibi [Speech 90] to argue that they weren’t responsible or admit to the murder. If the Courier fails the Speech check or admits to the murder, Ghost will turn hostile (“Maybe you didn’t fucking think this through, but do you know what we call someone who kills an NCR ranger? An enemy of the NCR rangers. Now, eat shit.”). Alternatively, the Courier can intimidate Ghost into silence with a [Terrifying Presence] option, after which a shaken but seething Ghost will simply ask the Courier to leave the outpost and never come back. Passing the Speech check is the way to not fail the quest from this option.

Kill Jackson and frame Cass. If the Courier kills Jackson themself, attempting to loot Jackson’s body will trigger a message suggesting that they could frame Cass for the murder by splashing whiskey on the body (so long as Cass is not currently the player’s companion and is currently at the Mojave Outpost, not the Lucky 38). By adding a whiskey bottle to Jackson’s body without themself or the body being discovered in the meantime, they can successfully implicate Cass for the murder, and explain as much to Ghost. She’ll buy it, since Cass was one of the most frustrated residents of the outpost and was drunk almost all the time. Cass will then disappear from the game, and if Lacey, Major Knight, or Ghost (if the Courier left the outpost before speaking to her again) are asked, they will explain that Cass was arrested by the NCR.

Have someone else kill Jackson. A desperate, fed-up caravaneer named Paul by the brahmin pens is willing to kill Jackson for 5,500 caps. This price can be negotiated down to 4,000 with a [Barter 60] check, and 3,500 with [Barter 75]. At midnight that night, Paul will attempt to sneakily kill Jackson. Alternatively, Paul can be incensed into attacking Jackson immediately and for free with a [Hot Blooded] trait check. In either case, though, there is no guarantee that Paul will succeed, and if Paul is killed then the Courier must advance the quest another way (though they can loot their spent caps from Paul’s body). When spoken to afterwards, Ghost will remark that she saw the Courier speaking to Paul and ask if they had anything to do with it. By passing a [Speech 50] check, the Courier can convincingly lie that they were trying to talk him out of it. With either the [Black Widow] or [Cherchez la Femme] perks, the Courier can lie and say that Paul very foolishly did it to try to impress them. With [Low Intelligence] the Courier can earnestly say that they thought “taking care” of Jackson meant doing something nice for him.

Somehow allow Jackson to die. If Jackson just somehow dies in an unaccounted way, such as from a spawned-in deathclaw eviscerating him in his own office, Ghost will remark on the strangeness of the situation but won’t blame the Courier. This is a failsafe option to prevent quest breakage.

= = = Stage 2: Find a Replacement = = =

If Jackson is alive, he’ll agree with the Courier that he ought to let Ghost go, but he’s still under orders to maintain a standing force at Mojave—a standing force which includes a highly trained sniper. If Jackson has been killed, Ghost will mention that Major Knight is next in command and would be glad to give her clearance, but that he won’t be able to do so without a replacement sniper, either. Either way, the Courier is tasked with finding a suitable replacement. The Courier can ask her for advice:

Who should I look for to be your replacement? They have to be NCR, obviously. Ex-NCR might work, too, so long as they’re in good standing. Any Dick or Jane off the road is a no-go, since brass put the kibosh on officially contracting mercenaries. Oh, and anyone you get would have to be well-trained. Not necessarily a ranger, but good enough to replace one, even for a sit-on-the-shitter job like this. Only the best and brightest get to stare at this fucking road all day, apparently.

Where should I look for your replacement? If you checked out some of the ranger stations around the Mojave, they might be able to move some people around. Hell, take it all the way to McCarran if you want, or with Hanlon. If you’re going to give them shit on my behalf, by all means, go nuts. A lot of higher-ups can be greased with enough favors, anyway. Whoever you get just needs the right credentials. Legion attacks get dragged asses and twiddled thumbs, sure, but bad paperwork would set a goddamn fire at headquarters.

The following characters can be recruited as the Mojave Outpost’s new watch:

A generic ranger. By speaking to the commanding officers of at least three of the NCR ranger camps across the Mojave with sufficient [NCR Fame], the Courier can speak to Chief Hanlon to arrange for Ghost’s replacement with a generic ranger. This option is impossible if “Return to Sender” has already been completed.

Craig Boone. If the Courier has completed “I Forgot to Remember to Forget” in a way that makes Boone repentant over his past, he can be persuaded to take over Ghost’s position as a good way to put his skills to use. Otherwise, he will refuse, either preferring to stay in Novac where he lived with Carla or not wanting to be stuck as a watchman again when he could be out killing Legionnaires. If selected, Boone’s home marker will change from Novac to the Mojave Outpost.

Manny Vargas. Novac’s other sniper can be convinced to take up Ghost’s post, but only if the Courier has completed “One For My Baby,” “Come Fly With Me,” and eradicated the Legion presence from Nelson. Once convinced that Novac seems safe, for now, he’ll be willing to reenlist if paid a generous salary. The Courier can either pay Manny 5,000 caps to reenlist now, pass a [Barter 65] check to explain that it’s a provisional reenlistment and reduce their bribe to 3,000, or if the Courier has already passed the [Confirmed Bachelor] check in dialogue with Knight, they can tell Manny about the cute little major sitting behind the desk all day there by his lonesome. Once convinced, Manny will relocate to the Mojave Outpost and take Ghost’s place.

Bryce Anders. This keen-eyed ranger can be recruited to Ghost’s position if he is rescued from the Vault 3 Fiends by the Courier. Once spoken with in Camp McCarran, the Courier can explain that the Mojave Outpost needs a new ranger stationed there. He will defer to Colonel Hsu’s authority on reassignments, and with a successful [Speech 60], [Medicine 40], or [NCR Fame] check, Hsu will agree to the reassignment on the grounds that it’s a useful position still sedentary enough to not complicate the ranger’s recovery.

Little Buster. The listless bounty hunter at Camp McCarran is looking for another career path and would be willing to take over Ghost’s do-nothing position. However, the only way to recruit him is to fabricate both credentials and enlistment records by either stealing personnel files from either Colonel Hsu’s office at Camp McCarran or from the filing cabinets at Camp Golf, or speaking to Daniel Contreras, who “knows a guy” who’ll take care of it if the Courier has already acquired access to Contreras' expanded inventory by siding with him in the unmarked quest “Dealing with Contreras.”

Private Halford. The sole survivor of Camp Guardian mentions that he wants to head back home through Mojave Outpost after being rescued from the mirelurk caves, at which point the Courier can mention no one is allowed to leave through there, and ask if he’d like to take Ghost’s position there instead. At first he’ll refuse, but with a [Speech 45] or [NCR Fame] check he can be convinced that a quiet, do-nothing watch assignment would be a lot better than anything else after what happened at Camp Guardian, to which he’ll agree. He will also relocate to the Mojave Outpost after being freed anyway, getting stuck like everyone else so that the speech check can be re-attempted. However, Halford isn’t considered well-trained enough for a ranger’s job. The Courier must speak to Jackson (or Knight, if Jackson is dead) and pass a [Speech 80] or [NCR Fame] check to make a strong endorsement, or a [Survival 55] check to explain how impressive it is that he survived an attack from so many mirelurks. Alternatively, the Courier can fabricate impressive enough credentials through the options required to assign Little Buster.

Once Ghost’s replacement has been assigned to the Mojave Outpost, the Courier only needs to speak to Ghost again. She will explain that she’s been “reassigned” to open patrol across the Mojave, ostensibly to track Legion activity, so long as she does so with the Courier. She also gains an additional dialogue option dependent on your choice of replacement:

What do you think of your replacement?

(Generic ranger) For this job? Any ranger’s as wasted as any other. I almost feel bad, I doubt she’ll like that fucking roof any more than I did...almost feel bad. Doesn’t quite cancel out the relief.

(Boone) First recon is one hell of a pull. Took right to it, too, like he was already used to it. Strikes me as the...quiet, contemplative type. Likes to think. Not much else to do up there, anyway. I bet those brahmin pins have never felt safer.

(Manny) First recon is one hell of a pull. Took right to it, too, like he was already used to it. Seems like a nice enough guy, and seems to be getting along with Major Knight. Hell, you love to see it.

(Bryce) A good man. Heard about what the Fiends did to him, and after all that, he certainly deserves a break. Didn’t think of this shit job as much of a vacation before, but seems like it’ll do him good.

(Buster) Not sure where the hell you found this guy, but if (Jackson / Knight) gave the okay, then...okay. I would’ve put a goddamn brahmin in a beret up there if it could have gotten me another assignment.

(Halford) The mirelurk guy? Yeah, he seems alright. I’ve never actually seen a mirelurk, but after hearing his story, I don’t think I want to. I didn’t even know we had a camp that far up there.

Speaking to Ghost after her replacement takes her position completes the quest, and from then on, she can now be recruited as a companion. However, similar to Boone, she will only remain the Courier’s companion if they maintain good reputation with the NCR, and as an active-duty ranger, her intolerance for anti-NCR actions is even more strict.

Ending Slides

If "Giving Up the Ghost” is started, but never completed:

NCR Victory. Ranger Ghost remained at Mojave Outpost, dutifully, thanklessly, and restlessly. When the rangers there received word that the Legion had made their move on the dam, the entire outpost went silent. Waiting. From her rooftop perch, at least she was the first to see the bearer of good news come up the road. In the moment, at least, it was worth everything to be there.

Legion, House, or Independent Victory. Ranger Ghost remained at Mojave Outpost, dutifully, thanklessly, and restlessly. When the rangers there received word that the Legion had made their move on the dam, the entire outpost went silent. Waiting. From her rooftop perch, she was the first to see the NCR’s retreat, as civilians and troopers alike began fleeing through the Long 15. She was right: this whole time, all she could do was watch.

Ghost is dead. Ghost, bitterly, died as she lived...(deep sigh) at the Mojave fucking Outpost.

If “Giving Up the Ghost” is completed:

NCR Victory: When legionnaires by the score descended upon Hoover Dam, Ghost was proud to have been one of the many rangers in the battle that kicked their shit in back across the Colorado. She celebrated with the rest of them, even a smile creeping onto her face every now and then. Still, Ghost returned to business before long, as part of a squad out East tracking down the straggling remnants of Caesar’s retreating Legion.

Legion Victory: Ghost was among the many rangers who fought at Hoover Dam, but when the army of legionnaires led by the Courier, to whom she owed her very presence there, proved unstoppable, she was ultimately among its many casualties. Their advance was too sudden, too overwhelming, for a clean evacuation, and a grisly duel with a centurion trapped her near the front. Still, the Legion never took Ghost alive. She made sure of it.

House or Independent Victory: The arrival of the Securitrons at Hoover Dam was a surprise to every NCR trooper stationed there, including Ghost. Their sudden turn against the NCR, and their allegiance to the Courier, even more so. The triumph of vanquishing the Legion was short-lived, then, as Ghost joined the forced retreat, one pale face in a sea of many. 

Ghost is dead: Despite her name, there was no supernatural flourish when Ghost died. She simply died like a ranger, fighting to the end. That’s all that mattered.

(Bonus) Cass’s Ending Slide if the Courier frames her for the murder of Jackson:

Rose of Sharon Cassidy spent all of her time at the Mojave Outpost in a drunken stupor, which is why when Major Knight oversaw her arrest for the murder of Ranger Jackson, it took so long to get exonerated. By the time the alibi was pieced together and the evidence was admitted as circumstantial, the battle of Hoover Dam shifted NCR’s attention elsewhere, and the crime was never solved. For a few months in the clink, though, at least Cass got what she wanted: home, and finally away from the outpost.

[belpheroo]

Title: On the Way to a “Yes” Pairing: Belphegor x MC Summary: Belphie is guilt-ridden, but also horny. Funny how often those two things coincide when you catch feels for the girl you killed. Rating: T 

Notes: Follow up to A “maybe”. I take some liberties with Belphie’s story. He pretty much IMMEDIATELY warms up to MC and is snuggly after trying to kill her and I really always disliked that… so instead we got a tentative and distant Belphie in the first part. Also, I like to write Belphie more like… okay example. In the McDonalds meme my version would be the one who buys one black coffee and leaves. 

He’d fucked up.

One concession, one tiny kiss on the forehead and now every time he so much as entered the same room as her he’d hear her voice, loud and confident.

“I want a kiss!”

“No.”

He’d reply, deadpan and flat. The first few times had caused a downright riot among the other RAD students and his own brothers. Mammon practically stalked him now, eyeing him around corners and giving him vicious glares and hand motions that indicated “I’m watching you”.

It was exhausting, but then again, most everything was to him. He couldn’t lie to himself though that the first time she had come up to him, smiling with flushed cheeks and said the words, he had almost forgotten himself and leaned in to repeat the kiss from before. It came too naturally to him, the desire to touch her, to spoil her positively rotten by giving into her every whim. It wasn’t for selfless reasons by any means, because it meant he too got what he desired in that dark secret part of his heart where he once held his vengeance-fed love for Lilith.

She’d taken everything, scrapped out the infection in his soul where he had been bleeding and wretched and replaced it with something new and clean.

And still… he couldn’t get rid of the memory of that moment where he snuffed out her light with his bare hands. Had he succeeded in that endeavor, he would have lost something so precious without having once understood it’s true, unmeasurable value to him.

No one was stunned more than himself to discover that It wasn’t because she was Lilith’s blood and bone that she had become so precious to him, it was because she was herself. But even still, how could he possibly touch her with these hands? How could he ever have the right?

Belphegor was half lulled into a nap by his own silent melancholy when he heard the doors to the planetarium open. He was groggy, vision still cloudy with sleep as the intruder came to kneel next to him where he’d lay down on the floor with his usual pillow for a nap.

“Belphie… you asleep?”

Ah. Of course it would be her. He managed to keep his breathing from changing and continued on pretending to be out. He could hear the faint rustling of her uniform skirt as she sat down next to him, the pad of her fingertips just barely brushing across his forehead as she settled his hair out of his eyes.

“I like it here,” she continued, voice so quiet even this close he had to focus all his attention to hear, “I use to make the projector show the stars over my own home… ya know? Back in the human realm. It was… nice. For a moment I could pretend I was back there and at the start that is all I wanted… to go home.”

Belphegor slipped one eye open tentatively, unable to make out much from beneath his lashes.

“Now I’m dreading the end of the year.” She said, voice somehow even smaller, “I ask Lucifer if I’ll ever see any of you again, after… he gives me half answers or no answer. And…”

She paused.

“It kinda scares me… like he doesn’t answer because he knows something I don’t. Like I’ll forget you all once I leave.”

Maybe it would be better if she did, Belphegor thought then and had thought before.

“So I keep trying to make all the memories I can, ya know? And I had so much time with everyone else, but only a little while with you… and I want to make the most of what time we got… but… I don’t know. Maybe you don’t.”

He felt his breath catch, almost making a sound.

“Sometimes I get this tiny glimpse, like maybe under all that bluster you do like me and you do wanna be with me. I mean, you text me all the damn time, but the moment we’re alone you can’t get far enough away from me.”

It was true and he was sorry for it, but at the same time she had to know why. Only a complete fool wouldn’t understand why.

“Or ya know, you pretend to be asleep.”

Belphegor didn’t even have time to tense or respond, because a second later she was pinching his cheeks. His eyes flew open, a protesting groan in his throat as he swatted her hands away.

“Ow…” he mumbled, rubbing the sore spot after she let go.

“It’s soooooo obvious when you’re faking. Your eyebrows get all furrowed, right in the middle.”

She poked him there for emphasis, earning another groan and a swat aimed at her hand.

“Then why did you keep talking?!”

“Because I had things to say, and honestly, this made it kinda easier.”

Belphegor could absolutely fault her logic, but chose not to. He folded his legs beneath him, sighing as he leaned his cheek against his fist, resting his elbow on his knee. He looked at her from under his bangs, not entirely sure what he expected next.

“So is it me? Do you just not like me?”

“Would you trust anything I had to say? I could say ‘no’ just to get rid of you.”

“And yet you haven’t!”

“… It’s not you.”

“Well, it is me, just not that.”

Belphegor sighed.

“I guess you were kinda right…” she said, “I can forgive you, but I can’t make you forgive yourself.”

“I don’t have any idea how forgiveness works, let alone self-forgiveness. I’m not… I don’t forgive easy. Not anymore.”

“We can figure it out.”

He raised an eyebrow, “‘We’, huh?”

“Yeah.”

“You’re crazy.”

She shrugged, “I wanted to help you the moment I found you in that attic. I promised, didn’t I?”

“It was made under false pretenses.”

Another shrug.

“Then make a new one with me.”

Belphegor’s eyes narrowed, “Are you talking about a pact?”

“Nothing that serious! Unless you wanna…” she said, giving him a sly look as she leaned in closer.

He turned his face away abruptly, but did not say no.

“You’re the one whose crazy…” she continued, soft again like she had spoken while he was asleep, “I say I forgive you, I say I want to be friends, I put myself right out there and you just…”

She sighed. Belphegor turned to look at her again, watching the way the stars in the planetarium above glittered and shined off her hair and the reflexion of her eyes that were upturned to the false sky.

“Say it.” He said, the slightly exasperated tone drawing her attention. She looked perplexed, eyebrows furrowing as she flicked a quick glance over his face.

“Say it.”

Realization shined in her eyes as surely as the stars and her lips parted in a gentle smile.

“I want a kiss.”

Belphegor’s hand came to rest at the back of her neck, cradling her gently as he leaned forward and softly kissed her. It was gentle and brief, but the moment they parted he came again. It was as if the well within him had sprung, his grip turning firm as he pulled her closer. He focused on her bottom lip and then her top, alternating with tilts of his head until she was limp in the circle of his arms.

Her mouth was already open for him when he slipped his tongue inside to caress against her own in lazy languid motions… as if she were a treat to be savored. Something inside Belphegor sighed, the sound carrying from his own throat and into her mouth.

Granted, this was much worse than making a pact, because kisses were promises of more than what such a contract, so simple in comparison, could offer. But for once… for once he touched her and didn’t feel the memory that haunted him. For once, it was just her, alive and hot and soft beneath his touch. The short breaths that fell from her lips had everything to do with him and yet were nothing like what sounds he had brought from her before. No, this was new. This was good.

When she kissed back, hands coming up to touch his face, he could not stop himself from moaning quietly. Belphegor pulled her closer and she eagerly obeyed, breaking the kiss only to straddle his waist and get comfortable in his lap. Her arms were around his neck, her breasts pressed high on his chest… he wrapped his own arms around her and turned, baring her down unto the floor beneath him.

Her hands were fisted in his shirt, tugging and pulling in a bid to remove it, but Belphegor bit her bottom lip scoldingly.

“Not this time.” He said against her lips, each word brushing against her own.

“You’re such a tease.”

“That’s my line.”

And her next witty remark was swallowed up, obliterated by a searing kiss that contrasted sharply with the slow lazy ones from before. Giving up on taking off his clothes, she simply moved her hands beneath them, running her palms along the planes and angles of his back. Belphegor groaned when she moved down his sides to his front, grazing her nails down his stomach.

He had to take a moment, parting to admire his good work, her lips kiss swollen and pupils blown black before he pressed his open mouth to her neck. His pace had slowed again, reverent and gentle. She giggled when he found a sensitive spot with the tip of his tongue and she attempted again to pull off his shirt.

Belphegor, unfazed, simply reached down and grabbed her wrists and she willingly let him pin her arms above her head. She arched up, pressing the curve of her body along his, but still Belphegor was unhurried in his attentions. It was not until he pressed a kiss right where her neck smoothed towards her jaw that she understood… his kisses turned to gentle pecks, tracing the space where his hands had once closed.

“…I’m sorry.” He said into her skin, a kiss following, “… I’m so sorry.” He pressed his lips where her pulse throbbed, alive and rapid.

“Don’t make me cry, stupid.” She said, no malice in the barb, “I ugly cry. Nothing sexy about it.”

Belphegor, despite himself, laughed. He released her arms, let her wrap them around him again as he brushed her hair back from her face and just… looked at her. Really looked at her. She was so beautiful, so maddening and frustrating and lovely and his. His if he would only reach out just like this and take her.

She licked her lips.

“You wanna stop?”

“Fuck no.” Belphegor said and then gave a resigned sigh, “But I’m going to.”

Her disappointment was palpable, but he kept his word, leaving her with one last parting kiss before he untangled himself from her hands (with some coaxing) and got them both upright again. Belphegor let her keep close though, tucking herself under his chin and holding him around his middle. He rubbed slow indolent circles into her back, his eyes back up towards the stars and planets above them.

“Next time, bring your pillows and some blankets.” He said, “I’ll bring some more too.”

“It’s a booty call.” She said, grinning so smugly Belphegor couldn’t help but roll his eyes.

“It’s a date.” He amended and found she only looked even more pleased with herself before her expression was hidden from his view, face buried in his shirt as she breathed in slowly.

“Sounds perfect."

[lucky-draws]

☕️ 👁 💭 - for the writing ask meme :)

☕ favourite passage?

Ooh...it was difficult to decide but I think I'm going to go with this final section from unhappy anniversary:

By the time you reach the exit, the rain has slowed to a drizzle, and the ice in your veins is nowhere near as acute. Feeling slightly more cheerful now that your body is starting to warm up, you flash a charming smile at the now familiar security guard. He jumps at the sight of you, though, looking at you like he's seen a ghost; and you can't help but feel a little offended. You don't look that rough, apart from your tear stained cheeks. Has he never seen a man cry before? 

You give him your pass, and when he hands it back he seems to have recovered, even taking pity on you enough to offer you a cigarette. You glance at the name on the pack and smile: your favourite brand. And to think you were plotting to kill him earlier - what a sad waste of human life that would be. You tell him so, and the flurry of confusion and panic on his face is priceless. 

As the gates close behind you, you hear a disembodied chuckle floating on the breeze - deep, like your father's laugh from earlier. You smile a little, and in spite of it all, make a mental note to come back tomorrow, just so you can tell John all about what's happened tonight. You do owe him some flowers, after all.

I'm not just picking this bit because you also picked out a line from this in your comment on this fic, honest! xD I was pleased with this fic overall, and I often struggle with ending a fic strongly/coming up with decent ending lines that aren't clichéd or cheesy, but I think here it worked out pretty well. And the ghost stuff is always fun too of course... I've always liked the idea of Adam crying "blood" just like The Sorrow, so I enjoyed throwing a vague implication of it in here.

Actually, I will also give an honourable mention to this part in a fic I wrote about John finding out about the less enfants terribles project, 'in my time there'll be no one else' ; there's a lot I now dislike about my earlier fics but I do like the sort of tense atmosphere in this one.

Eventually, the fingertips loosen their grasp. John’s hand falls away in a manner that could be resignation, or could be disgust; and he turns, striding across the room to sit on the edge of the bed without another word.

Adam exhales a long breath, cursing quietly. He flexes his fingers, vaguely wishing he had his revolvers, or anything, really, to fidget with, to distract him.

He crosses over to the open window, and the silence stretches further between them, pulled taught.

Leaning out over the sill, he casually surveys the traffic below with a feigned indifference that’s a force of habit; though the lack of an audience and the tell-tale quivering of the hand reaching into his pocket for a cigarette render the performance futile.

He exhales a cloud of smoke and scowls at a young woman pushing a pram along the sidewalk opposite.

Les Enfants Terribles.

He’d never heard those six syllables before today, but now they just won’t stop bouncing around inside his head.

👁️ series or one shots?

Hm, good question, I think it's satisfying to write short one shots that are concise but have a lot of substance, but at the same time it's also very enjoyable to be able to complete a series of works, especially for a game like metal gear where the characters' development (whether into something better or worse xD) throughout the decades is so central and interesting to explore. I think one shots come with less pressure, and especially because I'm so indecisive and still figuring out writing and I end up changing my mind about what I've written and how much Iike it, it can be challenging to keep a series consistent. It's for that kind of reason that even though I've written separate works that follow each other chronologically, I don't count them as part of the same series exactly because they sort of feel like separate, chronological one shots. If that makes any sense xD

💭 any ideas for a possible wip?

OH BOY do I... I do have an idea for a fic set during the coma years, concerning Ocelot and Kaz getting to know each other; I wrote down some ideas/plans for it a while back but shelved it in order to write my current fic. The ideas I had were possibly slightly out of character and it would definitely be classed as 'canon divergence'...more of a fix it fic that sort of actually makes things worse and rather ignores the rest of the series...I'll say no more but I really hope I can try to actually write it at some point, maybe when I've finished Sing.

I'd like to write otasune at some point and I do have a vague idea of sort of pre-philanthropy or early philanthropy era otasune but I don't know if it'll come to fruition. It takes more braincells than I currently have to be working on two fics at once, so for now I'm gonna just vaguely ruminate on other ideas whilst I'm finishing my current fic. I'd also lowkey like to try writing a very short thing concerning Ocelot's death scene in mgs4...maybe I'll save that for a rainy day. (teehee)

Thank you for the asks!! I hope I was somewhat coherent, and I hope you're having a lovely day! :) o7 💖

[snelbz]

Lost Time, Chapter Seven

A/N: How does a new update sound, just over a year after the last one? I’m sorry it’s taken so long, but sometimes a story just stops speaking to you. And then, thanks to your kickass bff, you’re feeling it again, and she helps you write it. Co-written, as always, with the amazing @tacmc. Enjoy!

It wasn’t that Miryam was incapable of taking care of the things in the old house. She was only in her late forties, she still had quite a bit of life in her yet. But when Drakon had gotten sick, a lot of things had become unimportant and now she was the only one left to do it. Or so she thought.

She heard a banging from in the garage and when she hurried to the door and threw it open, she found Azriel on his hands and knees, cleaning up a bucket of screwdrivers and drill bits.

“Oh, uh, hey, mom,” he said, blushing.

“What are you doing?” She asked. “What happened?”

“Well, I was trying to surprise you by fixing the back door, but thanks to Dad's impeccable organizational skills...” He shook the bucket for emphasis. “Surprise, I guess.”

Miryam chuckled, leaning against the doorway with her arms crossed. “I haven’t been in here in a while. I’m surprised it’s as organized as it is.”

Azriel shook his head, climbing to his feet and dusting off his hands. “I think you and I and dad all have very different definitions of the word organized.”

Her grin widened as she took a sip from her steaming coffee mug. “Maybe so. I appreciate you fixing the door, though. It’s been driving me crazy.”

“I’ve got nothing else to do, figured I would help out,” he muttered, lifting the hem of his shirt to wipe the sweat that had already begun to form on his brow. “Is there anything else I can help with?”

“Oh, baby,” she came down the steps and rested her hand on his cheek. “You’re going to regret asking me that.

Three hours later, Azriel was convinced she had a list stashed away that was full of shit that had never been worked on in the house and was just ticking them off one by one. He scooped out the last wad of wet leaves and other unknown things from the gutters and took a deep breath as he rested his forehead on the top rung. Even though it was still spring, sweat was dripping off of him and he climbed down the ladder before any could drip in his eyes. A fall from a third-story roof is the last thing he needed right now.

The front door shut and Miryam appeared on the porch, a glass of water in her hand. “How’s it going?”

He was still trying to catch his breath as he crossed the lawn and took the glass from her. “All done. Just finished the gutter across the third story.”

Without hesitation, he poured the ice-cold water over his head.

“Azriel!” Miryam laughed, jumping back. She shook her head. “I’ll go get you a towel.”

He pulled the soaked, gray t-shirt over his head and tossed it to the porch, hearing it smack the wood with a wet slap.

He turned his face up to the late-morning sun and sighed.

It had been three days since he’d been to Elain’s. He knew Miryam was right, if he was here to fix his relationship with her, he needed to fix them. And clearly, there was the whole Lucien thing he wasn’t anticipating, so that complicated things.

But he also didn’t want to smother her.

So he’d laid low the past few days, editing pictures, even calling and canceling all of his upcoming bookings. If he was home, he was home. But she was always in the back of his mind.

And Novan. Even if he couldn’t make things work with Elain - the thought nearly gutted him - as more than friends, he still had his son to think about.

Maybe he’d stop by her house again in the morning, but even though mowing the grass wasn’t on the list, the grass was already long, and while he was fixing everything else, he may as well be cutting the grass, too. Today was to be spent helping his mom, the woman that raised him, and brought him ice cold water to drink every thirty minutes as he worked.

Especially before it could get any longer as the Spring heat progressed.

He found the mower in the back shed, but when he tried to start it, it only sputtered.

“Hasn’t worked for a while.”

“Fuck!” Azriel said, and jumped, only to be met with Miryam’s raised brow, a towel in one of her hands, a newly filled glass of water in her other. He muttered, “Sorry. Thanks.” This time, he drank the water and tossed the towel over his shoulder.

She laughed, quietly. “It’s okay, honey, I think I’m aware that you use such language in your twenties. Anyway, Drakon ordered a part to fix it, but he got too sick before it arrived to do so. It’s in the garage, if you want to give it a go.”

He scratched the back of his neck. “I can try, but I make no promises.”

She smiled. “It’s okay, hun. If it doesn’t work, I can just buy a new one.”

Azriel had hauled the busted push mower into the garage, but decided he could use a few minutes to breathe. He entered the house and found Miryam in the living room. He fell onto the couch next to her.

She pushed him away. “Get your sweaty self off of my couch right now or you’ll regret it.”

He laughed, but stood and headed back into the kitchen. Opening a water bottle he pulled from the fridge, he downed it in nearly one gulp.

“Good Lord, you didn’t have those the last time I saw you.”

He choked on the water and coughed. “What?”

Miryam smirked, gesturing to his muscles. “You leave and you’re a boy, you come back a man.”

He glanced down at his body, still bare, though his shirt tumbled in the dryer. Running a hand over his abdomen, he mumbled, “I have a very...active lifestyle.”

“Right,” she laughed. “Not to impress all the models you work with every day.”

“Mom, it’s not.” She just looked at him. “Okay, not completely.”

The back door burst open, not a creak to be heard and Novan rounded the corner into the kitchen. “Meme!”

Azriel stilled as Novan ran into Miryam’s arms. She caught him, easily, and lifted him into the air as Novan caught sight of Azriel. “Hi, Azriel!”

Azriel relaxed, the shock factor he still got from seeing his son, especially when he wasn’t expecting it, beginning to wear off. “Hey, bud. How ya doing?”

“Good, mommy let me bring my dinosaur,” he said, as if that was the deciding factor of whether or not he was in a good mood. For emphasis, he held up a little plastic t-rex.

Azriel chuckled, leaning back against the cabinets, arms crossed over his inked chest. “Very nice.”

Then the thought hit him, and he was unsure of why it hadn’t hit him before, but if Novan was here, Elain wouldn’t be far behind. Azriel just prayed that Lucien hadn’t come for a visit, too.

As if on cue, footsteps sounded up the back porch and Elain opened the door, then froze, brows furrowed. For a few seconds, Elain slowly opened and shut the door before saying, “Miryam, it seems that a miracle has occurred, because this is the quietest this door has ever been.”

She would know, too, because they would have a hell of a time quietly sneaking her into that back door in the middle of the night all throughout high school.

“Miracle, WD-40, it goes by many names,” she laughed as she headed into the living room. “To what do I owe this nice surprise?”

Azriel hesitated in the kitchen, realizing that Elain somehow hadn’t noticed his truck out back. He didn’t want to eavesdrop, but he also didn’t want her to leave on his account.

She sighed. “I’m so sorry to do this, but could you watch Novan for a little bit today? I have something really important I need to take care of today.”

“That shouldn’t be a problem.” She smiled, hugging Novan a little tighter as he giggled. “Az was just about to fix the lawnmower for me, so-.”

“Azriel is here?” She asked, cutting her off.

Azriel could hear Miryam’s hesitation, which was only worsened when Azriel tried to creep out of the kitchen and stepped on a creaky floorboard, just before he could round the corner into the hall, which could be seen through the opening of the dining room, where Elain stood, just inside of the backdoor.

Her eyes shot to him and he froze, fully aware that his cheeks were turning red as he got caught trying to sneak out. “Sorry, I just, I was only...hi.”

Miryam pressed her lips tightly together to keep herself from laughing at her son’s awkward nature, no doubt. Elain didn’t say a word, only stared at Azriel, her eyes trailing down to his chest before quickly, quietly looking away.

“Why don’t you help me water the flowers out front a minute?” Miryam asked Novan, in which he responded with a loud, excited yes as she carried him out of the room.

A few seconds of silence passed before Elain blurted, “He loves using the watering hose.”

“Gotcha.” Azriel nodded. He wasn’t sure why he was nodding, but he also wasn’t sure what to say.

Sorry I snuck out the other day. Heard you and your shitty boyfriend having a fight about me. Wanna get back together?

Right.

Elain cleared her throat. “I was actually going to come by your hotel after I dropped him off here.”

He made no effort to hide the surprise on his face. “You were? Why?”

She was chewing on that lip again and even from across the room, he wanted to work it from in between her teeth and ask what was on her mind.

She opened her mouth to speak but paused, clearing her throat. When she finally looked at him and spoke, he wasn’t sure if her question had him excited or terrified.

“Do you want to go get a cup of coffee with me?”

Thirsty minutes and the quickest shower of Azriel’s life later, they were parked in front of the cafe Elain had worked at during high school.

Az promised Miryam he’d work on the lawnmower the next day, but she said that Novan was going to help her pick a new one out from the home improvement store that afternoon.

They sat down at a table after ordering their drinks, Azriel on one side of the booth, Elain sitting across from him on the other. Azriel searched his mind, desperately, for something, anything to say, but he came up short. He hated doing the small talk thing, especially with Elain, when they had so much history together.

He used to know every little thing about her, but that was four years ago, and things changed, people changed.

He sure as hell had.

A few minutes of silence passed before their drinks were set down in front of them. Azriel, a simple mug of steaming black coffee, which he drowned in sugar, and Elain, a fancy cappuccino of some sort that looked foreign to him sitting in front of her.

She used to hate cappuccinos.

He wasn’t the talker, she was. It was one of the main reasons they’d been so perfect for each other. But it seemed that, although she called this meeting, she wouldn’t be the one starting it. So he’d start it in the most to the point way he knew how to.

“So I assume you wanted to talk to me about something?” He asked.

She was lost in thought, staring at nothing out of the window. His voice brought her back to the moment and she blinked. “Right.” Elain took a sip of her drink and said, “I thought it might be a good idea to give each other the chance to ask anything the other might want to.”

He leaned back, crossing an ankle over his knee. “Okay,” he said, somewhat hesitant. He had a few questions for her, but none as tense as the ones she’d likely have for him.

When neither of them started, Azriel continued, “Am I going first? Or…”

She laughed, quietly, although the light never reached her eyes. “If you have a question, ask away.”

Azriel let out a long, slow breath before picking up his mug and taking a sip. It took him a few seconds to decide what he wanted to ask first, then he decided on one he already knew the answer to. “How long have you and Lucien been together?”

Elain nodded, slowly, completely unsurprised by the question. “About three months, give or take.”

“And he doesn’t live with you,” he continued, quietly, needing it to be confirmed for his own selfish sake.

“No,” she said, staring at her mug. “He doesn’t.”

He nodded, processing the information. He waited for her to ask hers.

She set her cup down and asked, “Do you have a girlfriend back home in New York?”

He shook his head. “No. Nothing in New York but an empty apartment and a gallery full of prints.” She nodded once and gestured for him to go ahead.

“How did-.” He stopped and changed how he wanted to word the question. “When did you find out you were pregnant?”

This is where things were going to get hard.

“Three and a half months after you left,” she said, staring at her cappuccino as if it were the most interesting thing in the world. “I went to my annual check-up with my gyno and they came in talking about vitals and progression and asking when I wanted to schedule my ultrasound.” She blinked and Az could see the tears lining her lashes. “It was the first thing I’d felt since I found your note that morning in the church.”

He hated himself for asking the question, even though he so desperately wanted to know the answer. The answer crushed him, though, but he deserved as much.

“And, uh,” he continued, clearing his throat to keep his voice from breaking, “were you well taken care of? I mean, through your pregnancy?”

She nodded, taking a deep breath and blinking rapidly to help keep the tears at bay. “Yeah, my sisters were great, and so were Rhys and Cass, and your parents, of course.”

Everyone in his life but him.

His next question could hardly be heard above the distant conversation and whirring of machines. “Who was in the hospital with you when he was born?”

He knew he was asking a lot of questions, knew he should let her ask one, but he had to fucking know.

“Your mom,” she breathed, “and my sisters.”

Four fucking years. Everyone had known for four fucking years that he was a father, everyone he’d grown up with, his own damn family, and no one had ever said a word.

“I didn’t invite you here to fight, Az,” she whispered. “They kept it from you because I asked them to. It…” She blinked, but she wasn’t able to stop the first tear that finally fell. “It’s not like it was hard. You never called. You didn’t come back.”

“He’s my son, Elain.” He had no right to be mad and he knew it, but still. It hurt him.

“He’s my son,” she said, quietly, but not weakly. “He just met you, and I won’t feel bad about it, Az, because you left. You left, and if you stayed, you would’ve been there for all of it, since the day he was born, but you didn’t. How the hell was I supposed to know that you’d want anything to do with him if you didn’t want anything to do with me?”

He felt like he’d been punched in the gut. She was absolutely right and that’s why it hurt him so badly. He just sat there, watching as tear after tear streamed down her face. There was nothing he could say to resolve what he’d destroyed in the past, he could only try to salvage his future.

“I’m sorry, Elain,” he breathed. “I’m sorry, so fucking sorry for leaving you. I fucked up. But I’m here now.” He swallowed hard. “And I’m not going anywhere.”

She sighed, letting her head fall into her hands. “How can I believe you, Azriel? You promised to love me for the rest of my life, yet I’ve been on my own for the past four years.”

He couldn’t have stopped the words if he tried. “I haven’t broken my promise.”

The silence settled between them and he regretted the words, even if he had already told her he still loved her.

She finally looked up at him, those brown eyes showing him how broken she truly was. “How can I trust that you won’t leave him, when you left me?”

Azriel felt a surge of anger that quickly faded, only to be replaced with sadness, longing, pain. She had a right to ask that question, even if it hurt like hell. Yet, he said the first words that came to his mind. “Do you really think I’m so horrible? I made a mistake, El, yeah, I’ve owned up to that, but I would never….I’m not like my parents were, okay? I’m not going to be some shit, heartless asshole who neglects their fucking kid.”

From the look that crossed her eyes, Azriel knew that she knew he wasn’t talking about Miryam and Drakon. Azriel had rarely acknowledged his birth parents through the years, but he meant every word: he wouldn’t be like them.

His mother, she hadn’t been the problem. She was sweet and kind, but life wasn’t kind to her and she’d died before Azriel had even turned five years old.

But his father and step-mother. They were evil for the fun of it. Last he’d heard, his father was in a penitentiary along the coast and his stepmother was in a psychiatric hospital.

Elain’s face softened. “I know you wouldn’t intentionally hurt him, but...he’s been asking where his daddy is since he learned that all normal families have a mommy and a daddy.”

Normal families.

The words cut him, but he said, “And what have you told him?”

She simply said. “It’s not your question.”

The want to argue was overwhelming, but he pushed it down. “Fair enough.”

She nodded, and took another sip from her cup. After the long sip was finished, she finally got the nerve to ask, “Have you been with anyone else? Since me?”

Azriel’s mug stopped halfway to his lips. He wanted so desperately to lie, but knew he shouldn’t. With a sigh, he set his mug back down before he could take a drink. “One. About two years ago, and I was horribly drunk, and it was really awkward, and I beat myself up about it for...well, still.” He laughed, quietly, but there was no humor in it, it came more from his complete discomfort. Azriel wasn’t the kind to sleep around, nor was he the kind for one night stands. When Elain said nothing, he rubbed the back of his neck. “Nothing serious, though,” he continued. “I haven’t dated, not really. Went on one about six months ago, but I ate bad shrimp and puked, so...that ended poorly, too.” Elain, despite herself, chuckled, and this time, it nearly reached her eyes. “I haven’t wanted to be with anyone else, Elain.”

She nodded and saw that his cup was nearly empty. “Are you ready?”

He looked at her cup still mostly full. “Yeah.”

They stepped out into the warm spring day and as they walked, Azriel slid his hands into his pockets. “So what are his favorite things to do?”

Elain pursed her lips. “Right now, it’s the LEGO kits. He’ll build one and tear it down in one day.”

He whistled. “Smart kid.”

She nodded. “He’s already begging to go to school.”

Azriel rolled his eyes. “He must have gotten that from you.”

This earned him a small smile. “Yes, he did. That and my outstanding organization skills. It’s very impressive for a four-year-old.”

Azriel grinned, hands still in his pockets as he glanced sideways at her. “I’m sure. I did notice when I was in his room the other day that his cars are color-coordinated.”

Elain laughed. “Yes, always.”

Azriel's grin widened as he nodded. “Alright, your turn.” He figured nothing could be worse than his shrimp-date confession.

She took a moment to think before asking, “Do you like New York? What’s it like?”

He blew out a breath. “It's...different, that's for sure.” They walked across the street towards the new park in the town square. “It’s never closed. You can get whatever you want whenever you want it.”

She looked around. “Much different from here, hmm?”

He glanced at her, but kept walking. “You’d like it, you know?”

She shook her head. “No, I wouldn’t. It’s too busy.”

He raised his brows. “You don’t like the busy nightlife anymore?”

She shook her head, slowly. “I stay home a lot, but I don’t mind it. I like the quiet and, believe it or not, I’ve grown quite fond of our little town.”

There were a ton of things that Azriel could have said in response, he went with repeating, “Quite fond? That would be a phrase that’s in your vocabulary.”

“It’s in Novan’s, too.”

Azriel laughed a breathy laugh. “I’m not surprised.”

There were still a thousand things he wanted to ask her, but he fell into a silence as she smiled, a full-fledged, full-teeth smile, and Azriel knew it was because they were talking about Novan, and perhaps that made the sight even more beautiful. He was taken back, his breath taken away. He stared, and he didn’t care that he was staring, didn’t look away. She was so incredibly beautiful that he had no idea how there had been a time when she had loved him, too.

He didn’t realize his feet were slowing until Elain looked over at him, her smile fading as she asked, “What? Is there something on my face? In my teeth?” Her hand was quickly flying over her mouth.

“No, I just-.” He hesitated, wondering if he should be honest or lie his ass off. “You look beautiful today.”

That smile returned, not quite as bright, but her eyes softened. She blushed, pink staining her cheeks. For the first time, Azriel felt like he was seeing his Elain again. “Thank you,” she breathed.

He reached out, brushing the loose hairs behind her ear, his hand lingering by her face. Without realizing it, she leaned into his touch.

A little cry from the playground reached them, and regardless of the fact that their son was safely with his Meme, they jumped, looking toward the cry.

Elain noticed the close proximity and cleared her throat. “Do you have another question for me?”

Azriel walked over to a bench underneath a tree and sat, bracing his elbows on his knees. She sat next to him, closer than she’d originally planned, but there was a look on Azriel’s face that worried her.

He didn’t look at her, just looked at his hands hanging between his legs. “Have you slept with anyone else? Lucien?”

Elain took a deep breath. She was also staring at his hands, he noticed, and he had the sudden urge to hide them, but then he reminded himself that it was Elain, and she was not scared away by his scars.

“No,” she said, at last. “We’ve done….no, I haven’t slept with anyone.”

Azriel reached up to scratch his nose, although there was no itch, hardly able to believe that she had gone four years without having sex, even though his list of flings since Elain remained short, too.

He looked up at her, then, just now realizing how close she sat to him. He could easily take her hand, could easily grab her face and bring it toward his lips, and the urge to do so made him ache, but he didn’t. She was watching him, too, though, thoughtfully.

“Does that surprise you?” she asked, quietly.

He looked off towards the Sidra. “No. Yes.” His voice was as quiet as hers was. “I don’t know.” She nodded, understanding. He glanced at her, wanting to see her when she answered. “You’ve...only been with me?”

She swallowed hard. “It’s only been you.”

He stood and held out his hand. She looked at it, a look of confusion on her face. “What?”

He smiled. “Come on. I’ve got something for you.”

She raised an eyebrow, but she took his hand to stand. They walked side by side to his truck, plenty of space between them, but not quite as far as they had been before.

There was a kind of calm that Azriel hadn’t felt in years. Being with Elain, it was just easy. The silence wasn’t tense, it wasn’t full of unanswered questions, though many still hung between them, and as they neared his truck, she asked, “Are you staying, Az? For real?”

He stopped, and faced her, making sure his eyes had connected with hers as he said, “Yes. I’m staying, I promise.”

“I want to believe you,” she breathed. “I really want to believe you, Az.”

“Then believe me, please,” he begged, his voice a quiet plea. Those tears In her eyes were returning, and he was shaking his head. “Elain, believe me. I made a mistake once, and I won’t make the same mistake twice, okay?”

She nodded, but refused to meet his gaze. He didn’t blame her. If he were her, he wouldn’t believe her, either.

“I got something,” he said, unlocking the driver’s side door. “For Novan. If that’s okay.”

Her eyes went wide. “Oh. Wow, okay. Of course.”

Azriel reached behind the seat and grabbed the camera he’d bought earlier in the week. “Here. This is an old model, it’s not expensive, so he can be a little rough with it.” She took the box in her hands and stared at it. “I know he’s too young now, but photography is something I’d like to share with him one day.”

Elain ran a delicate hand over the box. She was silent.

He asked, “Elain?”

“Azriel, this is…” Her voice broke and when she looked up, she was crying again.

He breathed, “El…”

“Why did you have to ruin what we had?” She whispered. “We could have been so happy. We were so happy. Why did you have to run?”

He couldn’t have stopped the words if he tried. “Baby, please, let’s just-.”

“Don’t you dare call me ‘baby’.” He could hear the pain in her voice, and she physically took a step back.

His eyes closed and he sighed. “I’m sorry, Elain, I didn’t mean to.”

Her eyes were hard as she said, “I have a boyfriend, Az.”

“I know you do, it just slipped out,” he said.

She bit out, “Then stop acting like it’s you.”

All the words on Azriel’s tongue faded away and he was left staring at her, his lips parted, his breaths uneven.

He could tell her that wasn’t his intention, but it would do no good. He had been vocal about his feelings for her, but she never returned them. It was clear she had moved on, and as much as Azriel didn’t want to admit it, the pain in her eyes, the venom in her voice, told him enough: he had ruined whatever he and Elain could have had four years ago.

And that was all on him.

So Azriel turned his back to Elain and continued to walk toward his truck. “I’ll drive you back to your car.”

He meant for his words to be steady, strong, as if her statement hadn’t completely destroyed him, but he failed. His words were uneven, low, broken.

“I’ll walk.”

Before Azriel could even turn around, she was already walking away. “Elain, please!”

He caught up to her and reached out, catching her wrist. She pulled her hand from his grip and glared up at him. “Don’t touch me. I’ll knee you in the balls, I already got what I needed from them.”

He took a step back. “Are you kidding me, El?”

The venom faded from her voice, the ice from her veins. “Az,” she breathed.

“Just get in the truck.”

“I’m sor-.”

“Just get in the fucking truck,” he snapped, quietly, taking a step backward toward the old truck, his jaw locking. He unlocked the door and threw it open, hauling himself inside and starting the engine, not bothering to watch if she was coming or not.

Anger and frustration and pain and embarrassment boiled beneath the surface, but all that showed of it was his white knuckles as they gripped the wheel.

A few seconds later, the passenger side door opened and Elain helped herself in, silently.

He didn’t bother to tell her about the other gift in the box she clutched in her lap as they silently drove back to Miryam’s. The gift he’d gotten for her.

Because he wasn’t her boyfriend and he needed to stop acting like he was.