#and realistically the answer is probably “no” but goddamn it's a thought

[penofwildfire]

Do you think Zane's ever glad to not be in his original body. Do you think he ever embraces the distinction between himself and the old Zane. Do you think he ever thanks the master that his bloody actions have not stained the white gi of the boy who gave his life for the world.

[wonderwomanfantasy]

okay but imagine a jealous Miguel who's been absolutely obsessed with you but was to scared to say anything. One day he comes over to your house to tell you how he feels about you but he notices you're wearing an old hoodie from your ex(who you obviously don't care about because you've been madly in love with mig) and he just goes feral and rips it off you, he says sm nasty possessive shit while he fucks you in full nelson✋ I'm sorry I've just had brain rot over this man and saw your asks abt him

oh baby I'm obsessed. this is nasty so it's going under the cut ^^

Miguel is 100% the type of guy who will refuse to admit he has feelings for you while everyone else knows. Yeah, he brings you coffee almost every morning, it is not to see you smile he just uh… made extra? He likes it when you rely on him, he likes being your hero even if he’s just buying you pads. He’s touchy too, when he passes behind you he puts his hand on your lower back even if he has plenty of room, or wraps his arm around your waist while the two of you are in a crowded place together so he doesn’t lose you. God speaking of crowded places if the two of you are ever in a loud place trying to talk he’ll lean in close so he can hear you speak and if his proximity makes you flustered, all the better.

 Miguel knows deep in his heart that it’s wrong how jealous gets, and realistically if you two were just dating he’d be able to just chill the fuck out but since you aren’t he can’t help but worry that someone else will catch your eye while he’s busy working out how he feels for you and wondering if he’s selfish enough to pull you into his dangerous world like that. The realization that you’re already in too deep makes his stomach churn. Even if you’re not dating you’re easily the person he’s closest to, everyone in the multiverse knows about his weak spot for you… if there's danger you’re already in it, if he really loved you he wouldn’t just keep you at arm's length, he’d cut you out of his life completely.

It’s a surprise when Miguel stops by. You’ve told him a thousand times that your home is open to him anytime but he always at least calls beforehand. Not this time. You can tell right away that something is off, he doesn’t hug you when he comes in and he’s got this weird look on his face like something eating at him but he won’t say what's up.

Miguel really did come over with intentions to tell you that he can’t spend time with you anymore, that it was too risky and too painful… then he sees the goddamn hoodie you’re wearing. And he recognizes it. He knows in that moment that he isn’t going to leave you, he isn’t going to let you go and let some other man have you. You are his, in this universe and in every other. 

“Is that your ex’s?” you’re a little tripped up by the suddenness of the question, and before you can answer it he’s looming over you, one of his clawed fingers hooked in the collar of the garment.

“Are you thinking about him again or what?” Miguel demands of you and really he doesn’t even care to hear the answer. “I could treat you better, why don’t you fill your pretty little head with thoughts of only me?” as if at that moment you could think of anything else. Not with his pretty eyes looking at you like that. Not with his big sharp fangs biting and ripping your clothes off of you. All you can think about is him. 

You’ve never been scared of Miguel, not the way other people were, but at that moment when you see the hungry look in his eyes all you can think is “god he’s going to eat me alive” and it sends a shiver down your spine. 

He carries you like you weigh nothing to him. And honestly, you’ve seen this man bench press a minivan, you probably don’t weigh anything to him. Miguel holds you in front of a mirror and makes you watch as he presses his big dick into you and uses your body like a fleshlight.

“See that? See how good you take me?” he whispers into your ear “You’re mine now, no one else gets to fuck you, no one else gets to hear the sweet noises you make, just me.” he says while bitting your neck

He has your legs over his arms and he really is just bouncing you up and down on his dick, he pushes your head down and makes you watch as he pushes into you for the first time before he pulls your head back to look at yourself in the mirror. 

“Wanted to fuck you like this for so long, now that I’ve got you here I don’t think I’m ever going to stop,”

And he doesn’t stop. Not until a mix of his cum and yours is dripping down his thighs and your legs are twitching. When he finally pulls out he scolds you for not keeping his cum inside of you and pushes the mess back into you with his fingers. 

He asks if you feel empty without him nine inches deep in you (you do) he asks if any other cock could ever make you feel full again (not likely) he asks if you’ll forgive him for being so rough with you, and if you’ll let him do it again.

[catharsis-in-a-bottle]

thoughts about vetinari and sybil?? eyes emoji

HI LIESMYTH i had to break out my laptop to answer this because i can't type fast enough on my phone...

I HAVE SO MANY THOUGHTS. many of them influenced by fanfiction and not actual discworld canon. i am not even sure of the extent of their dynamic in canon yet because i haven't read all of the watch novels, but regardless in all of these books sybil is either a main character One (1) time, or she is a very minor character (I Am Mad About This). as such my thoughts sort of have to be extrapolation anyway

when it comes down to it i think i have three angles on vetinari and sybil (all very personally biased):

the Old Friends Angle - they are friends from boarding school, they meet each other for tea, they generally actively talk to each other, etc. from this angle, i see vetinari and sybil as having a genuine rapport and enjoying each other's company in a platonic way, which seems closest to the scraps we get from the actual books. regardless of angle, i think sybil and vetinari get along not just well, but interestingly. vetinari would be more than happy to listen to sybil rant about dragons, sybil would be more than happy to subtly make fun of people with vetinari, and their combination of Total Frankness and Subtle Bastard create such a collision of opposites that they break through Incompatible and get to "we're going to have weird conversations but we're going to enjoy it the entire time"

the Happy Throuple Angle - the vetinari/vimes/sybil triangle works out, whether vetinari and sybil are attracted to each other or sybil gives a Stamp Of Approval on the vimes/vetinari situation, etc. i think this one feels the most unrealistic of the three. from what little of sybil's perspective we get, we know she cares about tradition to SOME extent, and we know vimes cares about maintaining ankh-morpork's idea of masculinity, so both of them would have so many hang-ups about the throuple situation that they'd hang up the whole thing in the closet and never mention it again... this situation also begs the question "what the hell is going on with vetinari's sexuality" but i think it's boring to say he must be gay in all situations. let the man fuck around. let him flirt with the duchess of ankh-morpork. anyway, i say the Happy Throuple is the least realistic situation, but it IS the most fun for me to write. (probably because it's the easiest, if i'm being honest w/ myself)

the Messy Divorce Not Talking Shitfest Angle - this once again comes from my obsession with the vimes/vetinari/sybil situation....so what if the aforementioned hangups about tradition created Catastrophic Dilemmas, or what if vetinari is gay and attracted to vimes but not to sybil but still asks for her approval on the situation... what happens when sybil is put in that tenuous position..... GOD i read the BEST fic the other week called The Old Kings of Quirm Did It Too by bissonomy (who has also written the funniest vetinari fics in the world) that put forth this dynamic and it feels so real... it's like. what if we gave genuine attention to sybil's perspective in any capacity, specifically from the standpoint of her views on tradition and desire for monogamy. i'm going to lose my goddamn mind

idk in general i like thinking about sybil's perspective because the books present her as Interesting Character who then just becomes The Main Character's Wife, and if we take that at face value we can end up with any of the above angles (the 1st basically complies with canon, in the 2nd sybil [in fanfiction] becomes the Invisible Wife who either dies so vetvimes can get together or gives blanket approval of vetvimes with no explanation, in the 3rd we comply with the nature of her marriage to vimes wherein vimes literally barely mentions her and hardly spends time with her - in that sense we can get to the Divorce just from actual canon details). BUT we can also arrive at all these angles by going beyond how sybil is presented in canon. the Old Friends dynamic becomes what i described in that paragraph, which is based more on extrapolation than canon; the Happy Throuple comes from thinking about sybil as being genuinely attracted to vetinari and/or wanting to break past vimes's views on masculinity (Putting the Commander to Bed my beloved...); the third comes from exploring sybil beyond "Yay I Got Married So Life Is Good Now" and wondering if she truly loves vimes, or if vimes truly loves her, and from perspectives like bissonomy's fic. THIS BECAME ABOUT MORE THAN JUST VETINARI AND SYBIL SORRY I GOT SIDETRACKED

this is unorganized and way too long so here are my conclusions:

vetinari and sybil should be allowed to be autistic about their respective interests together

it would be cool if they fucked

it would be cool if they wrote letters to each other

it would be cool if they had a messy love triangle and created a Divorce Situation

AND my ideal vetinari/sybil dynamic is actually the terrible transgender lesbian stressed-out love triangle that i am currently writing. i want vetinari to actively cause sybil's bisexuality crisis. peace and love on planet earth

[goodluckclove]

Actual Hot Take: Ramble Incoming

I'm in a mood, less than a week out from my hysterectomy, and I have some thoughts. Rough thoughts. Medium spicy.

They're about world-building and critiques and readers and writers. It turned into a big ramble as I processed some feelings - you'll note the subject change partway through - so I'm throwing a read more.

I would say here that this is my own personal opinion but essentially I realized that my real issue here was how sick I am of cynicism in lit spaces and like...yeah I don't think that's a crazy hot take. I feel at this point that I am incapable of hot takes.

I am deeply intimidated by the kinds of writers and readers who eviscerate logistical world-building choices in genre fiction. I usually only see it in sci-fi and fantasy communities but I have to imagine it happens in every genre.

Maybe an unrealistic fabric is used in a historical fiction novel. Or a poor choice of saddle in a western. Or a medical inaccuracy in a horror scene. It has to happen all the time because certain people have expertise that research might miss, or a writer's research could be wrong, or they could've just not researched at all. But for some reason specifically the Speculative Fiction crowd are the most likely, in my experience, to lose their goddamned minds.

Has anyone read Greg Egan's Schild's Ladder? It's about the hardest sci-fi out there. So esoteric and thorough in its scientific accuracy that when I tried to read it it circled back around and sounded like fantasy. Listen to this excerpt from the plot summary:

Huh? Huh???

I don't know about you, but this is virtually indistinguishable to me from the schizophrenic rambling of Philip K Dick. I did not hate the book. I couldn't finish it because I had no fucking clue what anyone was talking about, but I enjoy it's existence. The prose was pretty retro. It's like a pulp novel from an alternate universe where everyone has a PhD in Quantum Physics.

It's just a weird spectrum, the questions you're supposed to answer and the ones you're allowed to leave a mystery. What mysteries will the reader use against you as proof that you didn't think it through? People say write for yourself, and you should, but some of those same people are quick to produce massive think pieces on why your choices make you a bad writer. That's just a thing some writers choose to do. And there's really no way to predict what someone might get unreasonably rant-y about. As I put my writing more out there I have no idea what people will use to claim I put no thought into the most emotionally vulnerable writing I've ever created.

And they say that's not supposed to bother you. But like. Of course it does? There's a level of thick skin you're supposed to develop about writing, but I don't think that applies to all aspects of writing or all the time. If someone disregards my entire novel that I gave myself tendonitis over because my depiction of back of house food service wasn't realistic or my magic system didn't go in a direction they thought it should, I'm going to be upset. It won't ruin my life or get me to give up writing - I don't see anything doing that at that point. But I'll get sad. I'll probably get pretty sad and it's weird that I feel like it's bad for writers to admit that.

My hot take, nestled within this hot take, is that I think this applies to every writer. Even the ones that react with ego and anger to massive critiques on their books - right before we cringe and scoff and laugh online - are probably also just sad that we didn't like their writing. Unless they specifically didn't try, or posed a scam in the form of a book, they're likely sad they offered something born out of creative effort and got rejected. Nobody likes that.

It's one thing if the writer themselves has some trash beliefs. I am fine with people eviscerating JK Rowling or any of the writers who feel like the best way to get a book deal is to bring down other writers or pretend to be a different race online. But it's just crazy to be a writer in an age where you might publish a book someone hates so much that they release a three hour-long video essay roasting entire segments for a potentially incalculable audience.

I used to be into that kind of stuff, but after being here for so long relishing in that rage-bait feels weird. Because a lot of the people here, even if they write themes I'm not interested in, seem like nice enough people actually trying to do something. I had strangers on here send me their writing and someone sent me what was clearly a fetish thing and even though I wasn't into the kink I talked to the person about it and they were perfectly civil and courteous. I'm almost 30 and I'm learning that while some artists are using their medium to push unhealthy beliefs or hateful ideologies, a lot more people just want to tell a story that feels important to them. Even if other people don't like it.

I don't know. I was angry at first when I started this but by now I'm just sentimental and I think people should stop treating complaining as their primary hobby. I think critiques are important, but there comes a line in which I'm forced to think you'd just like hearing yourself talk. And if you like to talk why not talk about something you enjoy?

If you've read this far (you're very odd), I'm going to go ahead and list a few books that inspired my writing and say why I like them a lot.

Cat's Cradle by Kurt Vonnegut: Love my man Vonnegut. His prose is so warm and easy to read and his stories are so wild and interesting to think about. Everyone should read Vonnegut he's great and he seemed like a pretty nice guy.

Invisible Man by Ralph Ellison: This book wrecked me hard. Some of the descriptions were so beautiful I put the book down and let out a sigh. When I finished I walked out of whatever classroom I was in without asking for permission from the teacher and spent the rest of class wandering campus in the rain and weeping openly.

Griffin and Sabine by Nick Bantock: it's a trilogy told through postcards and letters you can physically open and remove the pages. Has some of the most beautiful romantic intimacy between two people who never meet. There's one particular letter I read and reread a lot when I was younger because it was exactly what I wanted in life.

[queerdiazs]

20 questions for fic writers

i was tagged by @callmenewbie, @hippolotamus, @watchyourbuck, @thewolvesof1998, @jesuisici33, @wikiangela, and @exhuastedpigeon 🫶🏼

i'm gonna put it under a cut because phew it got kinda long

how many works do you have on ao3?

31

what's your total ao3 word count?

uh, 301,903 which... goddamn look at me go

what fandoms do you write for?

i've written for stucky, geraskier, yenskier, steddie, and buddie, but it's only buddie right now. those 2 losers are really rotting in my whole brain and i'm loving every second of it 🤭

what are your top 5 fics by kudos?

(i cheated and used only buddie okay) the side effects of eating too many clementines at 759 the dinosaurs smelled magnolias at 722 this is why you shouldn't piss in the ocean at 668 you'll feel the rush of it all at 511 all things bright and beautiful at 453

do you respond to comments? why or why not?

i absolutely respond to comments! it might take me a while because i'm not articulate enough to convey how much i adore everybody, but i love talking with people that enjoy the silly goofy stuff i write!

what is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

burned on the pyre, a steddie timeloop fic. the ending isn't exactly angsty, but it isn't as joyous as all my others because it was important to me to keep it as realistic as i could + it reflects my mental state so, uh, oops

what's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

mm, i think you can argue all my fics have happy endings but if you go down in the woods today has the FUNNIEST ending and that's important

do you get hate on fics?

yeah lmao

do you write smut? if so, what kind?

yes i do! and, um, the explicit kind? i don't know how to answer this because my porn varies for each fic but they fuck nasty regardless!

do you write crossovers? what's the craziest one you've written?

no. that's not for me.

have you ever had a fic stolen?

absolutely i have <3

have you ever had a fic translated?

i have not!

have you ever co-written a fic before?

nope. i tried once when i was younger but it didn't work out because i'm a dickhead and found that i was not only writing my parts but fixing theirs as well.

what's your all time favorite ship?

i've had a lot of ships over the year and i'm never going to forget any of them, ever, but buddie gives me so much joy and good times and i think... yeah they're probably my favorite ship

what's a wip you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

none of them honestly? i'm going to finish all of them.

what are your writing strengths?

uh, dialogue. maybe.

what are your writing weaknesses?

angst, emotions, porn, things that make sense, action, romantic relationships, ANGST.

thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

god, so i'm pretentious and while i know some spanish i'm definitely not fluent but i refuse to use google translate so a friend of mine helps me with translating as straight across as we can—so like, long story short, it's a yes from me

first fandom you wrote for?

maximum ride on ff dot net 💀 why was i 12 years old learning how to navigate that fuckin site my god

favorite fic you've written?

but i've got my teeth in you, a bad things happen fic where buck gets a tooth knocked out during the lafd annual baseball game and somehow proposes to eddie, who of course says yes. it's just so FUN?

i'm no pressure tagging @honestlydarkprincess, @shitouttabuck, @giddyupbuck, @callaplums, @daffi-990, @try-set-me-on-fire, @eddiebabygirldiaz, @eddiediaztho, @nmcggg, and honestly anybody else who wants to be a lil chatty mwah

[incorrectcoldflashblog]

Any fic, number 4 and 27?

Hi, friend! Sorry this took me almost two days to answer, haha, I was in Paris for a concert yesterday and only just got back.

4.) If the fic required it, what did you research in order to write it?

The only fic I’ve published that really required any research is What Happens in Vegas and the goddamn tornado warnings. I don’t even know why I was so obsessed with getting this right when I was writing Chapter 4 because in the next chapter I just gave up on even trying to make it realistic, haha, but there you go. I did do a lot of research about ancient Mesopotamia to write my Genie AU, which is why it’s ironic that it’s now completely abandoned^^’

27.) Share a piece of lore you made up for the story

Well, obviously my Genie AU is also probably the WIP that required me to make up the most lore, since Len was a 5000-year-old genie in that one, although I did try to keep some key elements of his backstory, like having started life as a petty thief. I’ll use this as an excuse to share a little more of this fic since I’ll sadly probably never actually finish it (trigger warning for implied child abuse and suicide):

Cold couldn’t really remember the earliest millennia of his life. He supposed they must have been alright; they were just a very long time ago, and after a while everything just kind of tended to blur together.

The earliest he could remember clearly was a young man in Egypt. After he’d finished screaming, he’d been so excited. People always were excited by magic, back then. They would never have locked him away, or asked if they could return the children he’d created for them. Not like today’s ingrates.

Europe had been a funny little…continent? Glorified peninsula?

Whatever it was, Cold wasn’t sure how he’d ended up there in the first place, any more than he was sure how he’d ended up in this new place. The first human he’d encountered there had been an impeccably mannered little girl with bright blue eyes and brown curls, and a funny habit of speaking to him in Latin.

He was glad to have been discovered by a child. Little girls rarely made him hurt people the way adult men did.

Lisa was a lonely, unloved child—her parents had wanted a boy, she told him, but all of her baby brothers had died in infancy. It wasn’t an unusual request—he’d lost track of how many requests for baby boys he’d fulfilled over the years. Lisa had hoped that if she wished for her mother to fall pregnant with their long-desired son, her parents would stop being so cruel to her.

It turned out she was wrong.

He’d always suspected why Lisa had kept him around for as many years as she had without making her third wish, but what little heart he had had still sunk when she’d confirmed it.

“Please,” she had pleaded. “I’m decided. Just do it painlessly.”

“Absolutely not.”

“I thought the purpose of you demonic creatures was that you do whatsoever I desire.”

She was right, of course. What choice had he had?

Thank you so much for asking <3

Even More Fic Writers Ask

[idonotbitemythumbatyou]

hey! i really love your fic but i’m just wondering if you could hint at all about how everyone will end up. right now it feels like everyone will get a nice satisfying ending or show some growth or near happiness except for tom and greg. which is kind of a reverse of the show’s ending i guess. just curious thanks!

(The fic in question : The Kids)

Oh this is an interesting question, and I suppose it depends on what you mean by a happy ending. I actually think there’s been a lot of character growth for Greg (and Tom - but he’s not a POV character in this fic until the epilogue). Greg has done more self reflection than I think is even realistic for him - all because I self-indulgently wanted to write my thoughts about him (and Ewan) somewhere.

 The thing to remember is that not all character growth is positive. Connor, for example, experiences negative character growth in The Kids - but he’s perfectly happy doing so.*

For a short answer of whether Tom and Greg will be “happy” in the end of The Kids, that’s a resounding “no.” Wait! Don’t walk away!! It’s not out of malice or because I want to punish them. I’m simply following what I think would happen next, and what choices I think the characters would make next. 

I would also disagree with the premise that Tom and Greg end up in a happy place in the show. I think I might be in the minority in the fandom - and certainly among tomgreg shippers - but I didn’t see the stickering as all that romantic and positive. I found it thrillingly fucked up, but not sweet. 

Throughout the show, Tom is his most vulnerable and human in front of, and for the sake of, Greg. And Greg shows himself over and over again to be literally-just-some-20-something-guy, and not equipped to receive all that emotional energy. The finale brings all that to a head and, I think, cements them into an entirely new dynamic. Tom is now powerful enough to have whatever he wants - but his emotions are a greater liability than they were before. He wants to keep Greg, but for his own safety, has to compartmentalize him into an object, thus muffling his affection for Greg into the affection one would have for an object. To me, that is a fascinating place to pick up a relationship, and part of the reason I had the physical element of the relationship only start at the finale of the show. But I do recognize that most people interpreted that moment differently. 

The reason the siblings have shown such growth so quickly in my fic is because the cage door opened for them in the finale.** But Tom and Greg both still work at the poison factory, and if there’s one thing the show taught us, it’s that the only way to be happy is to not work at the goddamn poison factory.

I don’t want to spoil the final chapter and whether Greg actually leaves and goes to college, or stays with Waystar - and thus Tom - but to realistically consider options:

I don’t see Tom ever leaving his CEO position without being forced out. He worked too hard to win, and it’s more important to him than his own happiness. So Tom will continue to be satisfied but largely unhappy. Sorry Tom, buddy. You’re my favorite character. But you made this prison for yourself. 

If Greg goes, he and Tom are no longer together, but Greg has a real chance at happiness, if not the satisfaction of being mega rich and powerful (though he’ll still be ridiculously wealthy). This is by far the best outcome for Greg, and worst for Tom. But if Greg chooses this, he will be unhappy in the short term, and end the story unhappily.

If Greg stays, he and Tom will stay together, but they will never be open about the relationship. It will probably be an open secret in future decades, but eventually Tom will be too rich and powerful for anyone to say anything about it. They will not be happy, but they will be satisfied. 

To me, character truth is the most important thing when writing a fic, and it was love for the characters that inspired me to write The Kids in the first place. So it just depends on whether you find my interpretations of the characters truthful, and if not truthful, then at least interesting. 

-----

*In the next chapter, I even have a moment where Greg thinks “Maybe it was a sign that he was growing as a person that he had developed enough self awareness to realize:” and then he says just the worst, most regressive, self-own imaginable. It’s bad, but it’s still growth. It's still coming to a new conclusion based on new experiences.

**though the cage door is only open temporarily for Shiv. After maternity leave, she's doing a perfect swan dive right back into the poison vats. And she, too, will continue to be miserable. yay. :(

[justablah56]

*sighs* tell me about your fursona /lh /pos

ok first off- Vik is that you 👁️👁️ you're the only one who I know has seen my fursona recently sbjsjdjs either that or it's rae who saw it on your blog and didn't interact w it so I wouldn't think it was him if they went on anon lmao- but methinks its vik

okay now I'm gonna actually answer- bUT INSERT THAT ONE ENTRAPTA MEME- THE "IVE WAITED Y E A R S FOR SOMEONE TO ASK ABOUT MY THEORIES" YEAH THATS ME RN- anon I am looking at you with my big ol autistic eyes that are sparkling with this 10 minute unstoppable rant that is about to occur (✧⁠ω⁠✧⁠)

SO ! ampen right ? my little guy ? my baby girl ? my beloved ? I'm gonna talk mostly abt their physical design than their other details bcs I have more notes abt their physical appearance than anything :]

I have no idea what they are, I kinda just started drawing her abhdjsjsj but I think the two most notable animals he could conceivably be are probably a fox and a dragon of some sort (original I know) however I do want to give an honorable mention to my first draft of them, bcs goddamn I changed a lot abt her bsjdhsjjs. at first he was just completely a dog but I decided to give them those 3 fingered claw/hoof things, here's the very sketchy guy herself who inspired Ampen:

yeah snndjsn basically the only thing that stayed the same was the vague color scheme and the "hooves" changed from the hands to the feet. a lot of ampens physical design was just cool things I saw in other fursuits that I thought would be cool, like I just loooove the hoof feet, they look v cool and I just like them a lot, so I included them ! (I didn't in my first real drawing of ampen but then I did on their character sheet) same with the tail, I'm p sure at the time of ampens actual creation I had recently seen a dragon fursuit with that kind of tail and was obsessed with it, I tried so many different tails for him and none of them were looking quite right until I tried their current tail, and I love it . the dragon bit also comes out in her muzzle, it's a bit more pointed and sharp than a canine muzzle would be, again mostly just bcs I think it looks neat :] and I knew I wanted my fursona to have big ol ears from the very beginning, I didn't put them on ampen-rough-draft bcs I didn't start with the intent for him to be my fursona sbjdjdjs but anyways- the fur pattern took me a while to come up with, I started with just vague splotches of color in random spots, messed around with specific colors, I don't think I decided on the pink stitch mark things until like- the very end dnjsjjd I have no idea where I came up with it , I was just trying random things and hoping they looked right lmao-

I gave them glasses bcs . I have glasses . and I think it's cute and there aren't enough furrys with glasses :3 then added the piercings bcs I think they look cool and that's really it bajshjejskwks

anyways , now for the couple things that aren't visible on a drawing, I imagine her being like 5'4 MAX , he's pretty short . mostly bcs I am v short and plan to actually make ampen, and that's a height I could realistically get to accounting for the ears hdjwjdjjejdke anyways, I don't really have many other little facts about them since they're basically just me personality-wise, so make of that what you will ! I will however GLADLY answer more specific questions if you (or anyone else 👀) have them bcs it will give me an excuse to come up with answers abhdjsjdjsjjd

anyways- this is all to say that I'm in love with Ampens design and I really should draw him more often and also probably just develop them more tbh- BUT ! ty v much anon for enabling me to ramble about Ampen, they're my most specialest little guy and I love her <33

[mmoxie]

Part 4- Card Collector

Cheap walkie-talkie from your local pro shop? Check.

Worn-out shitkickers from the nearest 'Lectro Pawn? Check.

Pocket check- Pall Malls, lighter, breaker flashlight, leatherman. Good to go.

Jobs like these didn't provide equipment or on-site training. You worked with what you could carry.

The Coyote del Rey was an interesting case study in how, when you're in the shadow of Vegas, you try and figure out how to shine through it. In this case, the wrong answer was a wooden longhouse, probably three thousand feet square, covered in vanity lights and uncomfortably realistic depictions of a... remarkably sexual coyote-man sitting on a throne.

But that was the place. And Rubén wasn't the kind of guy who had any explanations, or really even wanted to think about it. He pushed a tight roll of cash into Dani's palm and spoke his peace while she counted it.

"That's ten percent," he started. He spoke through his teeth and preened a lot. He wasn't being a tough guy, he was stressed- Dani saw it right away. She knew stress. "You get the other ninety at seven in the morning. Everyone who's in, is already in."

He paused to breathe, and she paused to stare at the money in her hand. Ten percent? This is five thousand dollars!

"So nobody comes in. And nobody's coming out until the end of your shift. It's a private occasion."

Dani nodded. It was honestly liberating, after years of mandatory pep rallies, condescending e-mails, and standards nagging, to have a job with a clearly-defined goal and reasonable expectations.

The name's Goon, she said to herself, stifling a laugh. Hired Goon.

When her shift started, she spent a long time with her hands on her hips, just staring up at the would-be casino's deeply erotic mascot.

Oh yeah, this guy's got stats.

She trained her flashlight beam on the mascot's bodacious pecs and imagined a card representing all his feats and endeavors.

Name? Lord Fucktavius de Balsaque.

Height? Six foot... nine. Aw, yeah...

Weight? Two-twenty-two, and alllll muscle. Love muscle.

RBI? Ranked... Butt... Insertions? Thank god I'm not stupid enough to speak my mind. Anyway, he's batting a thousand.

And if you flip the card over, you get a condom instead of a stick of gum. This fuckin' guy. Only from Topps.

She considered the possibility that she needed a social life outside of Seebs as she turned her flashlight back to the path ahead, shook her head, and got back on patrol.

The building was quiet overall. They weren't playing any loud music in there- maybe it was more of a religious thing than a party?

Her thoughts drifted to Heaven's Gate news stories from nearly thirty years ago. As if expecting the mothership to come blazing by, she reflexively turned her eyes to the sky.

Nothing but the old standbys. And all those goddamn phone satellites.

A few hours passed, her mind wandering through cults in the news, close encounters- ooh, Barney and Betty Hill, I remember that- and circling back, eventually, to the task at hand.

Maybe I have some kind of attention disorder, she thought, walking into the back of a fellow goon. She hadn't realized she lapped him, and here he was again.

"Hey! You an idiot or something? Watch where you're going!"

C'mon, this one's all you. "Easy, my man. Just missed some details in the dark. --How you doing, anyway?"

He whirled and trained his flashlight- a hefty police maglite, she couldn't help but notice- at her face. She squinted into the beam.

He was squinting too. One corner of his mouth was hitched in disgust. He was an older man, she saw- potbelly, hiked dungarees, thin souvenir t-shirt with a pack of smokes tucked under the sleeve. She thought he was going to do a little more hissing and spitting, when he laughed.

"Shiiiiiit. Alright. Shit, c'mon." He turned, laughing again, and beckoned for her to keep up.

"You know what's going on in there?" He held his arm out as they moved clockwise around the building.

"I had some ideas. Branch Davidians are back? Rubén said nobody gets in, or out, until after seven."

"No, and thank god for that. I used to live near Waco. Packed up and sold once I saw the ATF in town. Didn't want any government ghouls coming after my guns."

"Aw, man, don't tell me you've got a gun on you. I don't need to hear that at three in the morning in the middle of nowhere."

"Don't be a homo about it. Anyway, I used to be a diver. I'd go off into the gulf and find old sunk pirate ships. Happens I'd find me a funny-gun, like a four-barreled blunderbuss or an ivory-handled clustergun. Corroded to shit, never liable to fire again, but I'd get 'em in a CLR bath, see, and then pick the gun apart."

"Uh-huh." Don't be a homo about it? She had to suppress a hard bark of a laugh, and dragged a hand over her face. This fuckin' guy.

"So, see, then all I do is cast duplictate parts, assemble, and bam- got me a new old gun."

"With no serial number or registration. So you had a house full of hobby guns that came from nowhere, and..."

"...And the ATF had just rolled down the street, yes."

"So, what's going on in the building? Is it cult stuff?"

"Huh? Oh, shit- no, so- this is a workshop. Those are all state bigwigs in there."

"Doing what?"

"Gerrymandering. You've got governors, mayors, city councilmen on one side of the table, and then Econo-Lodge, Sunoco, and Pepsi-Cola on the other, deciding how the state should work."

Dani's eyes were wide with disbelief- and then slack with immediate, told-you-so acceptance. She set a hand on her stomach. Maybe she did have an ulcer.

Name: Family man and coke enjoyer, Mayor Johnny Tightlips.

Height: Five-nine.

Weight: 250. All golf.

RBI: Wouldn't you know it, Republican Business Interests are top of the league, this season and every season.

Flip over the card and you get a little ticket you can turn in for stage time at the primaries. Eat your heart out, Dan Quayle.

I could start a whole series.

She looked back at the old man and frowned. "And we're watching their asses?"

"Pays, don't it? Best money I ever made for taking a walk. You do this once a year, you're set until the next, in a town like Eureka." He brandished his flashlight stiffly at her, all of a sudden. "So don't go messing it up."

He kept walking, while she stood a moment in the dark and frowned. Her ulcer- if that's what it was- hurt pretty badly. She held a hand to her gut and turned to face the wall again.

--Oh, right. Hi, Lord de Balsaque.

Name: Dani DuFresnes.

Height: 5'... whatever.

Weight: I don't check anymore. Long as the pants fit.

RBI: This season, Dani has only caused one Really Big Incident, and so far evaded notice. Fans want to know: When's the next one?

Flip the card over and you get an electric bill. Topps exclusive!

Ten or twenty minutes of self-denigrating wordplay later, she saw the old man's flashlight beam cut through the dark. He had lapped her- and he was coming in hot, all of a sudden. Confused, Dani tossed her flashlight aside and dove into the darkness. She liked her odds better if she could see him, but he couldn't see her.

"Bossman says you can go home early!" he called out, waving his light around. There was an angry glint in his eye as he wheeled through the murky dark, panning this way and that at random. Dani walked backward, eyes trained on him, hands fumbling for a tree she could get behind.

"Sounds like he found out he was splitting his pay tonight," remarked a low, distinctly Minnesotan voice. "Not our fault he was slowing down."

What the fuck? Dani whirled for the voice, and saw a barrel-chested man, stuffed into an undersize suit like a professional wrestler. He was leaning against a tree and speaking into a radio handset like a stage microphone. She heard him crackle out of the one clipped to her belt, and quickly changed directions when it squealed with feedback.

Okay, if I hear that, I'm too close. Now what the fuck is going on?

More sounds- the hollow, metallic snap of a prison-grade spotlight powering on. A broad beam spread across the Coyote del Rey side-yard, creating a glaring gray-green path between herself and her only coworker.

She didn't bring a maglite. No faux-swordsmanship with steel-jacketed D-cell batteries tonight. Did the old man mean to kill her? They paid her five thousand up front, and that was just ten percent of her half- was he pocketing a hundred thousand dollars a year before she signed on?

No time to do the math on it. He was racing down the light path, holding the flashlight like a heavy bat. She pulled her leatherman from her back pocket and unfolded the three-inch knife. It was all the protection she was liable to get.

"You all know how this works," the Minnesotan voice continued over the radio. "First blood is best blood. And these brave, free Americans are proud to spill it for their benefactors."

"Winner take all," he concluded, and she saw the massive figure step out from the shadows, into the edge of the spotlight. "And loser give all. Go!"

She had never even learned the man's name, and now she was wrapped up in some... perverted clandestine death match? For the amusement of senators and... soda CEOs?

And what was that emphasis on blood? First blood is best blood, loser give all...

Son of a bitch, it's a cult! It's a cult and it wants me to bleed for a company!

That notion made her ulcer burn- and she could see the orange flash of fire curling around her teeth when she rolled away from an oncoming overhead smash, heavy maglite carving a crescent out of the dirt where she had just been.

"I've done ENOUGH of that!" she roared, and a stream of pressurized flame tore a crescent through the grass to match her competitor. But she turned away from him, and toward the man on the microphone.

"Who do you work for?" she hissed. Fire within was becoming fire without, rising up around her neck and shoulders like a cloak. Her incandescent glow cut through the dark of the woods as he retreated out of the spotlight a few steps.

"Who TOLD YOU that you could do this to me?!"

<-Prev Next->

[nicawlette]

A  FUCKED  UP  KISSING  MEME

@nobully asked: 💔 i am ready

18. a  kiss  that  draws  blood.

She wasn't not drunk— not that much, at least. Not enough to be unaware of what she'd done, or was doing. Not enough to forget it all tomorrow.

Just enough that loose inhibitions had all but disappeared during her time spent at various bar counters, laughing and flirting with whatever patrons had been chosen to keep her company before she'd set off for her next destination. Nicolette preferred not to look too deeply at all the things that had led to her spending the evening like this, eager to turn everything hazy around the edges.

The problem with letting go of inhibition, however, was that she lost the restraint she already possessed so little of. Emotions ran high, volatile, ready to take the place of logical thought with the slightest provocation. It was a dangerous cocktail that often got her into trouble.

It was precisely why Nicolette finds herself sitting in Wang Yi's apartment with her shirt rolled up, biting cheek and tongue through the stinging pain of antiseptic being dabbed against the ugly wound on her waist. She's not drunk, but somehow sentiment had won out above all rationale, leading him to be the first name she thought to call as she'd sat bleeding in the alleyway behind the bar. He hadn't sounded too happy to be woken up so late and just as anxious as the first time she'd called him for reasons like this, but even so... he'd answered.

And then he showed up.

❛ I'm not going to the hospital. ❜ Had been the very first thing she'd said when his feet came into view, and she must've expressed just how nonnegotiable it was from the start because, miraculously, he hadn't argued. Still, an acute sense of dread had filled her, that he might just leave, and while Nicolette could realistically take care of herself just as she always had, it would be a nightmare. And... she didn't want to be alone. ❛ Take me to your place— it's closer, and I risk running into Zhilan if I go back to the apartment... we can't worry him. ❜ We, because it was the best way she knew to convince him.

Thank God for little miracles. It had worked, and she's only half regretting it as Wang Yi nudges his fingers a little too firmly against the split flesh. She hisses sharply through her teeth, and he surprises her by murmuring a soft ❛ sorry ❜ despite his apparent annoyance. Nicolette won't dare to fool herself into believing he's actually worried... that this gentle care is anything other than an effort to preserve the flimsy facsimile of normalcy he's created for himself by acting like a good person. Still, it's enough to make warmth bloom within her chest, right alongside a dull ache.

Another bit of rough prodding causes her to flinch away from his touch, a gasp of pain leaving her lips as they pull into a grimace. ❝ Oi, nurse, you're patching me up, not dissecting me like a goddamn frog! ❞ Nicolette turns to shoot him a warning look, but the expression on his face gives her pause. She manages to catch him tearing his wide eyes away from her expression of pain just in time, but he's not quick enough to play off the way his gaze lingers on her sluggishly bleeding wound, cheeks slightly flushed in a matching shade of red.

❝ Maybe if you stop moving around so mu— ❞ He starts to complain, a rather poor excuse, before her harsh bite of laughter silences him.

❝ Oh, I see. ❞ The words are drawn out and dripping with meaning. The cut on her bottom lip burns as Nicolette smiles, appraising Wang Yi with great amusement.

❝ I don't know what you're talking about, ❞ he argues, ❝ do you want my help or not? ❞ Knowing him, he's probably bluffing— there's no way he'll just leave her to bleed out, no matter how much she pisses him off. All she has to do is seem a little hurt, genuine or not, and he folds for her, every time. Is any of that real? Is any of that concern for her wellbeing or feelings actually directed at her as a person? Or is it another lie, one he won't let go of, even in her similarly twisted presence?

She decides not to think too hard about that, right now. Instead, Nicolette focuses on how that earlier warmth has dipped low to pool in her gut at the way he'd seemed so enraptured by her suffering. ❝ Are you sure it isn't you who wants something from me? ❞ She tests, reaching down to wrap scarred fingers around his thin wrist. ❝ You seemed awfully focused on something other than providing medical treatment, just now... ❞ Her grip tightens before letting go altogether. ❝ Do it again, ❞ she says, quiet and provacative, ❝ you know you want to. ❞

Emboldened by her open invitation, Wang Yi only appears to hesitate for a brief moment, as if waiting for her to lash out, before his firm touch returns to the edges of the injury and presses a little harder than necessary. Her brows knit, face pinching in discomfort as she makes a soft, wounded sound. He's wholly entranced, giving her his full attention in a way he hasn't before ( aside from the night he'd been drunk ).

She's always been addicted to that— being under someone's sole focus.

Nicolette realizes belatedly that her bottom lip is bleeding again as it's abused between her teeth, copper coating her tongue. Wang Yi seems to notice, catching the way a drop rolls down her chin. Of course, she notices that, too. ❝ Hey... did you still want to try my blood? ❞ The words come suddenly, surprising even herself, though she doesn't allow it to show.

❝ Yeah, kind of, ❞ he admits, before appearing suspicious, ❝ wait... you don't mean— ❞

❝ You don't hate the idea, do you? ❞ She interrupts, turning towards him on the stool to lean closer, unbandaged wound momentarily forgotten. ❝ Don't lie. ❞

❝ That's not— that isn't the point. ❞ There he goes, trying to make excuses, instead of just going with the flow. ❝ Plus, if I really wanted to, I have your blood on my fingers. That'd be much easier. ❞ Proving his point, Wang Yi begins to lift the hand that had fondled her just moments ago, bringing it towards his face.

Nicolette stops him just as quickly by grabbing his wrist again, yanking it away and in turn, pulling him closer. Her other hand grips his face, thumb and forefinger holding his chin in place. ❝ It's no fun that way, ❞ she scolds, clearly teasing. She's still thinking about the way he'd reacted to hurting her, and it makes heat rise to her cheeks in excitement. ❝ Come on, doc... ❞

❝ I don't think this is covered by your insurance. ❞ He snarks, though it's weak and clearly just for show. He makes no move to pull back.

❝ It's okay if you're too embarrassed to admit it... you can just push me away if you don't want to... ❞ That whispered warning is all he gets, and when no rejection comes, Nicolette does not allow herself to hesitate. She closes the distance between them quickly, angling his face towards hers by the hold on his chin. He seems cautious still, meeting her movement more slowly.

Their lips slide together wetly, aided by the slick fluid coating them from small cut. She hums curiously, deciding to make it easier for him. Fingers release his chin for a moment before grabbing his face, pressing into his cheeks and forcing his mouth open at the same time she lets go of his wrist to rest her hot palm atop his thigh, using it as leverage to lean against.

This seems surprise him enough that he bites down on her bottom lip on reflex, eliciting a sharp cry of pain. The cut splits further and floods their mouths with blood. He jerks, gasping audibly, but she follows after him even as he begins to pull away. ❝ It's fine, ❞ she reassures against his lips, breathless, ❝ keep going. ❞

He pauses for only a second longer before relaxing by fractions, returning the kiss with growing fervor. He's not as wildly eager as he'd been when drunk, too held back by his own thoughts. Still, it's clear he's enjoying himself, and she's pleased that his talent in this field is just as prominent while sober. Wang Yi doesn't seem to know what to do with his hands, but settles for moving one towards the curve of her waist, settling it below the cause of this whole situation.

His fingers twitch like they're barely holding back giving into temptation, and even that soft brush against her tender skin causes some hurt— yet the muffled ❛ ah ❜ she makes in response is hardly one of just pain. Apparently, that proves to be ample motivation. He does not flinch this time, nor pull his hand away. Instead, he parts his lips further and their tongues meet at long last.

It goes on like this until she loses track of time. Until everything starts to feel a little hazy around the edges again. Nicolette had been sober since she'd called Wang Yi in the alley surrounded by unconscious bodies in worse shape than her, and knows that alcohol is not to blame. In fact, her side feels far too warm and wet, even if the press of Wang Yi's fingers against her flesh is pleasant. She's the one to pull away first, growing lightheaded from lack of air, among other things. They're both flushed and panting, and she notices that her hand had found its way to the nape of his neck while the other remains gripping his thigh.

Nicolette blinks slowly, breathing in deeply. Her voice is wrecked and her gaze is liquid hot as she confesses, ❝ I'd love to continue, ❞ and if that doesn't make him sputter, ❝ but I... think I might pass out, soon... ❞ There's only a second of confusion before he notices the state of her wound and pulls away, all heat replaced with outrage and panic. She closes her eyes, mildly disappointed, though a muted smile plays on her lips as she drowns out his questions and scolding.

❝ It's fine, ❞ the assurance is punctuated by another squeeze to his thigh, ❝ I've... lost a lot more than this, and survived. ❞

❝ Just... bandage me up... and let me sleep over, yeah? I'm tired... ❞ Maybe if she's lucky, her pitiful state and wildly impressive makeout skills will keep her from having to occupy his bed alone, this time.

[antiherotheantisocial]

babes why don't you think you'll ever be in a relationship? ur breaking my heart here reading ur tags

skip to the tags for the short answer lmaooooooo

breaking your heart? secretly in love with me??? 😧😶‍🌫️ but aaahhhhhhh 😮‍💨💕

i'm aromantic 😭😭😭 i'm not sure that i've ever felt romantic attraction, nor even know what it is, so it's a bit difficult to say otherwise and i just realized this year. 😔 i mean when i think about it most of the "crushes" i've had are mainly centered around sexual attraction/infatuation/lust or whatever you want to call it lmaooo....i care for the person, it just never dawns on me that i want anything with them in a romantic sense, i'm wayyy too nonchalant for that honestly and everyone deserves the best, which is most definitely not me lmaoo 😭 like i've never even thought about it because for me it's like.....i would only be in a relationship if i know for sure i could be committed to building a future with them for life, or honestly i would probably be down for a relationship if they wanted. like why not i guess which....is also a problem because then it gets considered as settling lmaooo which for me it most definitely is not..

the only thing that i might be inclined to say is slightly close to romantic attraction that i experience is limerence. but it's not like....from a place of love. 😭😭😭 now that i think of it it's probably like, having intrusive thoughts of a person. it's just all the time and as much as i try to stop i can't and it sucks because i do actually care about the person for who they are but obviously that makes it seem otherwise 😭😭😭

it's weird to explain. i do want a relationship and i do want to build a future with someone special where i could support their goals and they are able to be emotionally open with me but i don't have to be emotionally open with them and we can cuddle and watch shitty ass med shows with the worst fucking cpr but, i'm super picky and have extremely high standards lmaooo like is it really realistic.....girl........be real 😭😭😭😭😭😭 i get on my last goddamned NERVE

and then it's like, i already know that i'll be paranoid probably and most likely won't be satisfied because i'm not sure that anyone's love will be enough for me. (quote in my ul tag)

and at the end of the day (finally right? lmaoooo) it's like morally i don't want to play with or hurt anyone's feelings.

like all of this is mine alone to deal with and it's things that i should handle and work through before even considering a relationship but realistically i'm not sure that i can fast enough sooooooooo 😔

i'm sorry my tags probably come off as some edgy loser (which i am mind you ☝️😈) but don't feel bad don't let my tags break your heart omggg 😭😭🥺💖 i'm just some guy that's a son's son daughter. 😭😭 i keep myself in a loop of extreme self-criticism for minimal growth lmaoooo i'm okay (trust me 🫡).

maybe i shouldn't've said never but like....extremely unlikely. like...99% chance that i won't. love really isn't something that happens to people like me which is....ok! it's still a joy to see it happen for other people 😌💕🥰🤍💗💕

anyways fuck it we ball 🥱💯💪😈⏭️⏫🥶

[ask-thedepressedkidatthetable]

I posted 743 times in 2022

That's 533 more posts than 2021!

110 posts created (15%)

633 posts reblogged (85%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@eeliabwrites

@heartxshaped-bruises

@fromxbeginningxtoxend

@vodkatoniic

@quotemadness

I tagged 741 of my posts in 2022

#[queue] - 340 posts

#character inspiration | alex smite - 144 posts

#ooc - 101 posts

#eeliabwrites - 56 posts

#inspiration - 50 posts

#sylwia&carter - 50 posts

#quotes - 45 posts

#character inspiration | sylwia - 40 posts

#character inspiration | danny brightside - 30 posts

#character inspiration | absinthe moon - 29 posts

Longest Tag: 89 characters

#[alex talks in his sleep a lot; so it's not unusual for him to wake up spouting nonsense]

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

       For very nearly a decade now, legal agencies had been avoided, backgrounds repainted, and the general feeling that they, apart from from a small group of people were unknown, lay undisturbed. So what made the bastard tailing them so goddamn special? Absinthe had picked them up at that greasy Chinese restaurant Frank loved so dearly. And from there, they had let the other follow them across the city. Avoiding shortcuts, unlit alleys, anything that could throw them off from the abandoned office building .  .  . The view was perfect, and true to form, the curtains were open next door.

       Three, two one- The shot rang briefly as the body of a man they didn’t know but inevitably disliked fell onto the carpet. As far as they’d ever been able to tell, if someone was willing to pay a reasonable sum for your death, you had it coming.

       Smaller sums would have indicated a lack of .  .  . How should we put this, care? Commitment? Any exorbitant amount was sure to have political ties.

       Absinthe took a breath. Now they needed to leave.

       “If you’re going to be here anyway,” Absinthe said to the individual in the back. “you may as well ride shotgun. And put on your seat-belt.”

@heartxshaped-bruises​​

7 notes - Posted May 6, 2022

#4

       So .  .  . He was right. Alex tapped his fingers against his knee rapidly. He thought if you squinted, that you could tell him and Sarah were related. They were, weren’t they? He was in a rabbit hole now, and honestly? It wasn’t as much fun as he imagined. “I’m a nosy little shit who spends too much time stalking people online.” Hence a collection of people with his face who were all leading different lives. “But how did you find out?” In both senses he supposed.

       There were a lot of questions, and probably a limited number of answers. How different were they? How different was he? The thought of being one of a set didn’t sit well with him, even if a small, self-betraying part of him liked the idea of having a big family. It was too optimistic to be realistic. He should have known that by now. Things in his life did not have a habit of working out.

       “Uh, I’m not sure if you already know or I introduced myself and I forgot, because that happens sometimes, but I’m Alex.”

@cxmewhxtmxy​

12 notes - Posted March 28, 2022

#3

Pink hair fell in front of her face, dresses shifting between the racks until Carter came up beside her, holding up a rather distasteful thing. “Why did you even ask me to come if that’s what you want me to wear?” Carter could hire someone in that case! She was not interested! Sylwia shook her head. “Never mind. I’ll look on my own. If you still want me to come with you, you know where to find me.”

Why she extended an open invitation to Carter, she had no idea. The time and effort alone, that she’d put into getting ready did not make it worth it. Sylwia sighed, running her hands down the front of the dress. Supposedly Carter was coming to pick her up. He still needed a date .  .  . If he stood her up, there was always the bar close to the apartments. They had burgers and pool, and sometimes they had karaoke. So they advertised. Sylwia had never been in. “This is ridiculous!” Sylwia muttered to herself, touching up her hair so it looked just right. She barely knew what a gala was. It was a formal occasion, something out of a fairy tale. It was something to be suspicious of, since she didn’t know what to expect. Excited might have been a decent word for it a few minutes ago, but nerves were beginning to tie knots in her stomach.

Was it too late to back out? Just turn off all the lights and sit in her room like the old days? Sylwia leaned against the wall, picking at her lace sleeves as gently as she could. She was trying to branch out. Be a better person. But did this really count? Being Carter’s date? Was that better now?

A car horn honked outside. That was her!

Hopefully.

Maybe.

Sylwia grabbed her phone and her apartment key, walking down and getting into the car without looking at Carter .  .  . She was holding her phone so tightly her knuckles were turning white. “Well?” She finally asked, looking up at the other. “What do you think?” Did she look alright, or was he going to drop her off to hire someone in a slutty dress?

@eeliabwrites​

25 notes - Posted April 16, 2022

#2

I feel very small. I don't understand. I have so much courage, fire, energy, for many things, yet I get so hurt, so wounded by small things.

Anais Nin, Nearer the Moon: The Previously Unpublished Execpurgated Diary, 1937-1939

28 notes - Posted February 24, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

“Love is dead.” She didn’t want it to die, but inevitably, the roses wilted and the fire burned. “Whatever people say love is now . . .” Sylwia shook her head.

43 notes - Posted March 27, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[paradisetemporarilymisplaced]

So I was being a basic bitch the other day and listening to my true crime podcasts when it occurred to me just how suspicious Nile’s “death” would look to everyone not in the Guard, leading me to a train of thought that, 2200 words later, absolutely got away from me but I can’t let go so I’m inflicting it on all of you!

To set the stage, we know the movie takes place over approximately a week. Here’s what happens to Nile from the military’s point of view:

She dies is very seriously injured

She heals without a scratch

Just before she’s supposed to be shipped out to Germany, she vanishes, leaving two men concussed (and presumably reporting being knocked out by a woman with short hair wearing civilian clothes)

She goes AWOL for several days

They get word from the CIA that she is to be reported killed in action (details unclear)

So, at the beginning of this very weird week, the USMC has to tell Nile’s family of her death critical injury. What her family was told depends on how long she was dead – a Google search tells me that family will be notified in person within 8 hours of a soldier’s death, but we don’t know how long her first death lasted. For an injury, however, they’d get a phone call to notify them and the unit would arrange for them to visit as soon as the soldier is transferred out of a combat zone. Like I remember when I was in high school, a guy from my church who was a Marine was really seriously injured in a helicopter crash in Iraq and from what I could tell, his parents were told immediately and were flown out to Germany to see him, so it stands to reason that Nile’s family would have been informed relatively quickly after her throat was slashed, one way or another.

And then, she goes AWOL. Her family would be notified while the USMC tried to figure out where she went, not least because the military would want to know if she’s contacted them. (And it’s possible that her family may have been on the way to Germany to see her since we know that’s where she was supposed to go!) So for several days:

Nile’s mom and brother have no idea where she is

They know she was seriously injured and most certainly should not have been moving around on her own

They can’t get a hold of her

The military can’t tell them anything

And the next thing they know for sure is that she was “killed in action.” After being injured and vanishing into thin air. And they presumably cannot produce her body or any concrete evidence of her death. In any case, something sketchy is going on, so they’re like. SMELLS LIKE A MILITARY COVERUP.

In a surprise to probably no one, there is a well-documented legacy of mysterious US military deaths, particularly of women of color (TW for sexual assault in these links). The cases of LaVena Johnson and Vanessa Guillenin particular have made national news because of their families’ persistence in seeking justice. Likewise, Nile is a Black woman, and her mom and brother are most certainly hypercognizant of (a) state violence against Black people and (b) these high-profile cases of suspicious military deaths. So her family are seriously side-eyeing the situation, knowing that (a) the military has a serious incentive (and a documented history) of covering up things that make them look bad and (b) nothing about Nile’s disappearance and supposed death are adding up.

And Andy’s right. Nile does come from warriors. And you know who else does? Her brother.

Don’t get me wrong. Nile’s mom would absolutely not back down. She’d know something was up and want to get to the bottom of it. But based on what I know about Gen X parents (mine), they’re not the most technologically savvy. Like they can use the internet, but they didn’t grow up with it the way we young millennials and Gen Z did. So Nile’s brother takes the lead. And what do zillennials do best?

Social media.

Nile’s brother starts going hard on any site he can, trying to get the word out to see if anyone knows what happened to his sister. He starts a Reddit thread. He starts a Facebook group. He reaches out to the media and true crime bloggers and podcasters à la Sarah Turney, getting loud and being a general nuisance in hopes of getting some answers. He gets his friends and Nile’s friends involved. Maybe eventually Dizzy, Jay, and others from Nile’s unit hear about it and reach out, telling him what they saw and how weird it all was. He’s drumming up interest, and soon “Nile Freeman” becomes a household name (at least among the true crime fans).

Copley is, of course, trying his best, but at this point there is just so much that it’s impossible for him to scrub everything. Sure, he can erase new footage of Nile and the Guard, but what can he do about Reddit threads and podcast episodes that are speculating something weird has happened? Maybe he could hack the sites and shut those things down, but honestly, that’s the last thing he’d want to do, because that only adds weight to the theory that Nile’s disappearance is a military coverup. So eventually he has to tell Andy what’s going on.

Andy, obviously, does not take the news well. However, she is also completely computer illiterate, because that’s Booker’s job and he’s the only one who ever bothered to learn what the internet is in any meaningful way. (She probably calls Booker for advice, and for the record, I think Booker would have no qualms about shutting down conspiracy threads, tinhats be damned, but Copley is too concerned about the consequences. He’s ex-CIA for crying out loud, he knows how it’ll look if they scrub every mention of Nile’s name from the internet.) Maybe she confers with Joe and Nicky but, let’s be honest, they’d be equally unhelpful. So at this point, she knows they have to bring in Nile.

But the thing about Nile is that she, too, knows how to use the internet (duh). Aside from her being a young millennial/digital native, we know from the cave scene where she’s giving Booker suggestions on how to track Copley that she clearly is even more computer savvy than the average person. And for that reason she almost definitely took over the day-to-day tech stuff after Booker’s exile. So I think it would be foolish to expect her to be unaware of what’s happening. She’s not contacting her family or posting on the message boards or anything, but she knows what’s up. So Copley and the team probably sit her down to “break the news,” but we know the girl does not have a poker face (see: literally shooting herself in the foot and not being able to play it cool whatsoever) and cracks immediately, telling them she’s seen everything about her case – she’s not interacting with any of it, she certainly didn’t instigate anything, but she knows. (And she is so goddamn proud of her brother.)

At this point, I’d like to pause and consider Nile’s role in the overall narrative of this movie. She’s set up as a foil to Andy, obviously, but she’s also a foil to Booker. Booker, who, like Andy, is a serious pessimist, but who, unlike Andy, still has very fresh memories and trauma associated with being the new kid, which have destroyed him. In his mind (and Andy’s), if Nile communicates with her family, she’ll become just like him in a century or two – bitter, alone, and stuck with her grief and memories of watching her family die and knowing they died resenting her. It’s a small sample size, but this is the only experience they have to go off of.

But it doesn’t have to be like that.

There’s been a lot of discussion of TOG being a fundamentally queer movie – a group of people brought together because of something inherent about themselves that is different, that must be hidden, that causes others to hate, fear, and reject them. Booker’s backstory is the archetypal traumatic “coming out” story – his family learns who he is, hate him for it, and attempt to cast him out of their lives. He’s stuck with his trauma, his pain, his loss, and it consumes him.

But what if Nile’s family would be the opposite? What if her “coming out” to them as immortal is met with acceptance, love, celebration? What if her family is just overjoyed to have her back, and they don’t care what the circumstances are? I'm reminded of this incredible post from @shitty-old-guard-deaths a while back, where Nile’s mother hits Booker with a frying pan because “my baby let me believe she was dead for FIVE YEARS based on your bad advice???” (which may or may not have inspired this whole tangent). Nile takes the advice of someone who did the same thing she wants to do because she doesn’t want to risk her family’s rejection. She wants the good memories with her family and is afraid that showing them her true self will bring her unbearable pain, forever replacing those memories. But, with high risk comes high reward.

Anyway. Nile and the team are trying to come up with a plan for how to handle this whole thing, but she’s not really participating because she’s too afraid to hope. Until finally, quickly, so she doesn’t lose her nerve, she suggests she reach out to them, knowing that, realistically, that’s the only solution before things snowball even further out of control. The team is shocked, but realize that she has a point. They decide that Copley should actually be the first point of contact, posing as a US government official to talk with them and test the waters.

So Copley goes to Nile’s family’s house to talk with her mom and brother. They’re probably distrustful and apprehensive, but nonetheless secretly ecstatic that their work has paid off. They talk and review all of the information that they’ve collected, including testimonials from the people on Nile’s base and recent sightings (along with photos) of Nile (with the same three people) over the last few years that people have sent them but they haven’t posted publicly. At this point, Copley’s like, yeah this is about to blow up, we gotta put our cards on the table. He convinces them to come with him to some safe house/black site/whatever he can get that is technologically impenetrable (I’m picturing them in like, an interrogation room at a police station kind of deal), takes their phones, locks the doors, and brings in Nile.

What follows is the most delightful reunion scene of all time, bringing Joe, Nicky, and even Andy to tears as they watch and listen from outside the room. With Copley’s help, Nile tells her mom and brother about her immortality and what’s been going on since she died (within reason, of course), and they are thrilled. They don’t understand why (because no one does) but they don’t question it and they see it as a gift from God – she’s been resurrected, she will live, and she has a purpose. Her mother and brother are so happy to see her again and are willing to agree with pretty much anything to stay in her life as long as they can.

So. They set up some complicated agreement (they bring in the other three for support/intimidation as needed) setting the terms of their relationship. They swear Nile’s family to secrecy, maybe bringing up the lab to show how high the stakes are, and they readily agree. They come up with some cover story for Nile’s brother to share on the message boards (maybe that the government has opened an investigation but because it’s an open case he has to shut it all down? Tells people to direct their tips somewhere else? Something to that effect). There’s still speculation, of course, but without Nile’s brother at the helm providing the energy, the hype dies down as news stories are wont to do without any movement. And Nile’s family goes to work for the team. The experience has taught them that Copley can’t possibly do everything himself, especially when it comes to social media, so Nile’s brother takes the lead on the day-to-day tracking/social media while Copley and her mom focus on finding jobs and scrubbing their traces afterward.

So there you have it: Nile gets to integrate her biological family into her found family and spend the rest of their lives with them as it should be, Copley gets some badly needed help managing the reality of social media, the team finally has a positive narrative surrounding outsiders Knowing About Them AND about interacting with people from their previous life, and the audience gets the happy ending to this very lovely and very queer story to counteract the pain associated with Booker’s family.

Plus, you know, I’m a sucker for both a good government conspiracy theory and for Nile getting every good thing she deserves.

[the-final-sif]

My other AU I mentioned yesterday was my own Dreamon AU. I think a lot of Dreamon AUs are cool, but the part that I always get hung up on is why. Frankly it’s what gets me hung up on demononic possession in general. What’s the point of it all? Just to start chaos? Just to hurt people? To what end?

Well, I thought about it for awhile and ended up coming up with an answer of sorts; “Dreamons” or demons are parasites that infect hosts and feed off of them before taking control of their life in order to infect the people who are emotionally close to the host. This allows for reproduction and for the parasite to spread itself further.

Going with a sort of realistic-minecraft style, close relationships between players create connections in code that a specific kind of dreamon (akin to a computer virus) can exploit to infect other players regardless of physical distance between the host and infectee.

It can even infect these players across servers, and added to the fact that this type heavily prefers to infect admins, it’s particularly deadly.

The process usually takes a month or two for the dreamon to prepare the other players for infection, and then in a period of a few hours it exploits the connections and wipes out anywhere from hundreds to thousands of players.

At that point, a select few number of those players have their physical bodies used like puppets to move to new servers and infect new admins.

c!Dream gets infected not long after he opens up his own server, he doesn’t realize it until it’s too late. Until he’s lost most control over his body.

He’s trapped inside his own head with the Dreamon, with only very limited bursts of control.

Dream realizes very quickly that he’s in the worst case scenario. He’s heard storiesof dreamons like this, and he knows what happens next.

Past admins have tried everything. Every cure, every combination of potions, every attempt to rip the Dreamon from their code. Nothing has had success in the past. Nothing saved their servers.

But c!Dream has something that no admin facing this challenge before him had:

A willingness to commit to incredibly stupid sounding impluses regardless of the cost to his wellbeing.

Because listen, he doesn't have zero control, he just has very little control.

And sure, he could probably communicate that's he's infectes to the rest of the server, even if the Dreamon would fight him on that.

They could try to do the impossible and find a cure, and most likely fail.

Or, Dream could speedrun ruining every relationship he's ever had so the Dreamon loses the ability to infect others.

Is it a sane plan?

No.

Does Dream have any real idea how he's going to pull it off?

Also no.

But goddamn it, Dream is going to try! He has to. Because if he does nothing, quite literally everyone whose ever loved him dies.

[orange-waterfalls]

I Call This One: Bold & Brash!

The egos x artist! gn! reader

ty @pokemonpunqueen for the request!

A/N: I’ve decided that I’m gonna write for the egos when I can’t think of anything else or I need practice writing lmao. I mean I was doing that before? But I didn’t know it? listen it’s fine it’ll be fine but FOR NOW I thiiiink I’m gonna take requests. Just a few. I’ll stop when I think it gets too much. This is exactly what it says. I focused on like drawing/painting for “artist”, with some references to animation thrown in there. I did Darkiplier, Wilford, Yancy, Illinois, Google, Eric, and a Host thrown in there bc I love him and I miss him

Word count is 1.5k

Enjoy

Egos x artist!reader

Darkiplier

He’ll want to commission art from you

He makes comments about how Mark is a narcissist but also he’s a narcissist.

Oh look, Dark’s asking you for another picture. What does he want? He wants you to draw him? Again? For the fifth time this fucking month? Wonderful.

He likes looking at how you make art of him, be it stylistic or realistic

He will hang them up all over the fucking house so pace yourself

He’s fine if you draw anybody else

Except Mark. Never Mark. How can he tell, you ask? No fucking clue, but he does

Gets a bit worried that you won’t make enough money to live comfortably

Just because not everyone needs a fucking MANSION-

Will always buy things for you if you ask

Likes to be able to support your job or hobby

Sugar daddy? I mean maybe

Makes sure you eat, sleep, drink water, survive--

Leaves snacks for you at your desk for when you don’t want a meal.

Carries you to bed if you fall asleep at a desk

Recommends you wear comfy clothes at all times so you can fall asleep wherever

A bit of an enabler, he’s doing his best tho

If you take commissions don’t be surprised if he threatens to kill someone when they don’t pay or are rude to you

He loves you, that’s all

Wilford

Fucking elated

Draw him!!! Please!!!! Please draw him!!!!! He has coin!!!!! He can pay!!!!!

Ecstatic if you actually draw him like he’ll giggle for an hour straight just looking

Secretly commissions more art from you

So also sugar daddy

It’s always something so obvious so you know it’s him anyways

He likes bright colors and eyestrain for some reason

If you make that, he just. Stares at it. Unblinking. You have to snap him out of it (im not projecting what do you mean)

Gets extremely worried about you not taking care of yourself

Gets someone to fucking babysit you when he’s gone so you take care of yourself

When you get greatly offended by this he settles for texting you reminders

And when you ignore those he texts more

Don’t be surprised if you get spammed by several people and an alarm starts to play from somewhere in the house

You’re gonna be healthy whether you like it or not, asshole

Drags you to bed aggressively

He WILL NOT drug your food with melatonin because that’s illegal. B U T-

He’s a little confused, but he got the spirit

Will advertise your art to anyone and everyone and also on his show and threatens the audience with a gun

AGAIN, a little confused. he just wuvs u so much 

Yancy

I mean technically he’s kind of an artist too so he appreciates your skill and creativity

He’s very nosy and likes to look over your shoulder while you work

If you don’t like him doing that, he still does it, just more secretively

Likes to work in the same room as you. 

That is if you don’t mind constant singing or tap dancing in the background

He shows off your art to anyone and everyone and gets mad if they don’t immediately say it’s fantastic

May or may not have stabbed someone over it, you’ll never know

If you show him something you’re working on, he’ll show you something he’s working on in return

The law of equivalent exchange

You tell him you can make MONEY from things like art and dancing and he goes apeshit he gets so fucking excited

If you’re like an animator and offer to animate his dancing he might actually cry

He’ll deny it constantly every day until he dies

If you make things traditionally he hangs them on the wall Everywhere

You might run out of room

By which i mean you will run out of room as soon as possible

Will never tell you a drawing is bad ever unless it’s like Really Bad which it never will be in his eyes

He loves anything and everything you do u are so precious

You have a permanent support system within the man

Google

Used to see art as pointless

Then comprehended the chemical release it causes in the brain and thought that was fine

Then saw you get really mad with something you were working on and got confused again?

If art no make good chemical, why art?

He still doesn’t understand, but that’s ok

You tried to get him to make something once

He just. Kinda. Made a buncha ones and zeroes

You still framed it and hung in on the wall and he got embarrassed

If he could blush, he would

If you draw him he looks like he doesn’t care but it’s at that point he decides he would die for you

Primary objective: answer questions as quickly as possible. Secondary objective: make u happy. Tertiary objective is to destroy mankind

If you draw bing that will disappear IMMEDIATELY you have BETRAYED him

If you ask for a color palette recommendation he Always says the google colors. Always.

You might’ve thought he was going for an rgby type of thing. But then you realize.

He is in charge of your financing. He will tell you the most efficient ways to make money as an artist and you follow then

He is also in charge of making sure you FUCKING EAT A MEAL

“But isn’t an objective to destroy mankind?” shut up he’s not happy about it either

Despite his best efforts he loves you and that ain’t gonna change

Illinois

Doesn’t fully understand

He needs to be outside at all times and cannot stay in one place

And you’re like??? Required to stay still???? For prolonged amounts of time????? Disgusting. Anyway, whatcha workin’ on?

He might ask you to try and teach him

If you do try he gives up almost immediately

Sometimes you just get so into it that you forget to do basic things and he gets upset

(i.e. eating, sleeping, living, etc.)

He gets worried about you

He is a hypocrite bc he does the same

He will drag you to bed, motherfucker

Honestly he might lock your shit somewhere until you fucking take care of yourself. it’s like a hostage situation god

“Where the fuck did you put it” “I have no clue what you mean. I might know if you eat your dinner, though”

Asshole (affectionate)

Sometimes you like make faces when you try to draw a person and it’s hilarious and cute to him

He looks at your drawings the moment you walk away but acts like he doesn’t care

He cares a lot

Will support you no matter what but will also tell you without hesitation if he thinks something looks shit

Listen he’s out of line but he’s right

Eric

Loves you a lot and will support anything and everything you choose to do or make

Drawing? Awesome! Painting? Wonderful! Animation? Superb!

He often wants to buy you supplies or something but he does not know what anything is

Fuck is a chalk pencil???? What are gel pens vs normal pens?????? Watercolor????? What the fuck are you saying??????????

Will subtly drop hints that you could,,,, draw him,,,,, maybe,,,,, if u wanna 

And by subtly I mean he starts to ask and then starts crying

If you draw him he will cry again he loves u so much 

If he ever were to get a tattoo it’d be something u drew. Nothing else is as important to him at the moment

He enjoys photography and film, and likes to try and bond with you over artistic things

I mean. Some things overlap.

You could talk about a single drawing for hours and he’d listen intently the whole time

Don’t ask him for feedback, it’s always some version of “it’s perfect and I love you”

Even if he hates it

Which,,,,, he might hate it sometimes

He’s not a good reviewer. 2/10, very biased

He likes to take photos when you’re in the zone

If you tell him to delete them he will

While secretly making one his home screen

Host

Hey, he gets it

He writes, he understands the hyperfocus

Sometimes he wouldn’t move from his chair for a day because he was busy writing a script

That being said, you probably have to be the one to get him to take care of himself

Or you have to take turns

Otherwise you’re both gonna fucking die

He asks you to describe your art to him and tries to picture it.

He’ll tell you if he thinks it probably looks good or bad

You shouldn’t take it to heart because he can’t see it

He is a bastard sometimes

“Well, what do you think?” “I think it looks fantastic” “Thanks, babe” “...” “... you think you’re fucking funny, don’t you”

He asks if you can draw him sometimes

No, he won’t see it, but he’ll appreciate the sentiment if you do

He will ask for your opinion on his scripts sometimes

If you say it’s bad he gets really defensive

You work in the same room a lot of the time and forget the other is there

One of you has to preemptively order food or like set a timer so you can goddamn Survive

You’ll be fine

[wolveria]

Inside Your Wires - Chapter 1

Pairing: Human!Connor x Android!Reader

Summary: Assigned all cases involving android-related crimes, saddled with a prototype that follows him around like a plastic puppy, Detective Connor Anderson knows this must be karma for all the bad shit he’s ever done.

He thought he'd hit rock bottom, that he didn't have much left to lose, but he's proven wrong by the android sent by CyberLife. And Connor learns just how much further he can fall.

Prompt: For the @dbhau-bigbang​ 2020 challenge!

Series Warnings (18+ only): Eventual smut, slow burn, fantasy bigotry, violence, brief noncon elements, angst with a happy ending

AO3

(Story moodboard by @uh-kitty-got-wet​​)

November 5th, 2038

Friday 11:21PM

The whiskey was harsh and burned like liquid fire as it slid down his throat. He dropped the shot glass onto the bar top and closed his eyes and savored the bloom of the cheap booze warming his chest. The music from the old jukebox behind him belted out tunes that would have been considered outdated when the place opened.

It was like this most nights. He was alone, exhausted, and well on his way to a pleasant buzz. The one thing Connor had going for him was that he hadn’t started in on his third drink until 11 PM.

That had to be some kind of record. On a Friday night, he was usually shitfaced by 10. Call it the long hours he’d been working, or maybe the fact he felt more self-loathing than usual, he’d somehow managed to hold off on spiraling until nearly midnight.

Definitely a record. And Connor deserved to celebrate.

When he tipped the glass with one finger and caught Jimmy’s eye, he nearly looked away in shame. The bartender had never given him shit before, at least in a verbal sense, but the cool stare he gave Connor now made him want to crawl into a hole and die there.

But Jimmy didn’t say a word, just gave him another dose of poison and turned away, leaving Connor in relative peace to enjoy the game. Denton Carter was kicking ass tonight, so at least there was that.

It was all going beautifully until the door opened and the sound of rain echoed throughout the tiny bar, along with a distinct smell of wet asphalt and dirty concrete. Out of the corner of his eye, Connor saw two of the other regulars shift in their seats to stare at the newcomer.

Not another regular, then. And by how lengthy the stares were and the sudden shift in atmosphere, Connor guessed the barometric pressure had taken a drop due to a pair of long legs and pretty eyes.

Turning his body only far enough to get a glance for himself, Connor was not disappointed, eyeing the stranger from their black dress shoes, up their shapely legs clad in dark jeans, past curvy hips and—

Oh.

Connor turned back in his seat, hunched over and grimacing in disgust, put there by the sight of a blue triangle on a lapel and a glowing armband around one arm. He hadn’t even needed to look higher for the LED to know what the fuck had just waltzed into the joint like it actually belonged there.

He nursed his whiskey, praying the thing would pass him by and leave him the fuck alone. Or better yet, Jimmy would throw it out.

No such luck, of course.

“Detective Anderson,” spoke a smooth, raspy voice to his right. “I’m the YN800 model sent by CyberLife.”

He elected to ignore it. Maybe if he did so for long enough, it would take the hint and go away.

Again, Connor’s luck was not holding out.

“I called your cell phone, but you didn’t answer,” the voice continued, unimpeded. “I then looked for you at the station after checking your home, but you weren’t there either. Your colleagues indicated you tended to frequent the bars in the area, and I was fortunate to find you at the fifth one.”

His eye twitched. This thing had gone to his apartment?

“Well, here I am,” he answered, dry and caustic as he stared straight ahead at the wall of bottles. He calculated how angry Jimmy would be if he took out his service pistol and shot it through the head.

Pretty angry, Connor decided. It would probably leave a stain. Also, he didn’t want to compensate some asshole company for property damage.

“What do you want?” he finally growled, scratching his nail into the bar top already marred with various scuffs and dings.

“You were assigned a case earlier this evening. A homicide.”

Already, a headache was forming between the eyes at the sound of the android’s irritatingly friendly voice.

“Yeah, and?”

“It involved a CyberLife android,” it said in that same smooth inflection. “In accordance with procedure, the company has allocated a specialized model to assist investigators.”

You have to be shitting me.

Connor grit his teeth and clenched his glass tighter, a flush of heat moving through him that had nothing to do with his blood alcohol content. A fucking android was sent to help cops do their job?

Fuck that, and fuck this hunk of junk.

“Good for them,” he answered as he tipped the glass up to his lips. “I couldn’t give less of a shit. Now get the fuck out of my face. We don’t need any help, especially from a plastic pair of tits like you.”

He should have known that wasn’t the end of it. The android spoke again, adopting a tone of what it had probably been programmed as “sympathetic.”

“I understand you may be experiencing reluctance to having an android’s assistance in this matter, but I am—“

“—ruining a perfectly good evening, butting your nose where it doesn’t belong and sure as fuck isn’t welcome.”

Connor put his glass down harder on the bar top than he meant to, nearly spilling his drink.

“I suggest you leave before I void your warranty.”

Connor thought the machine got the message when it finally went silent. He could even see its mood ring spinning yellow out of the corner of his eye before it settled on that annoying placid blue.

He’d just brought the glass halfway to his lips when it said, “I’m sorry, Detective, but I must insist.”

Connor set the glass back down and started to count to ten. He couldn’t lose it now, he’d promised Jimmy he wouldn’t break anything else after the last brawl he’d gotten into.

But the fucking thing just kept on talking.

“My instructions stipulate that I have to accompany you.”

“You know where you can stick your instructions?” Connor growled before downing the glass of whiskey.

It was a good thing he had, because its next words made him choke on spit.

“No. Where?”

Connor set the glass down, and for the first time that evening, fully turned toward the android and stared at it.

The damn thing was staring back, head slightly tilted like a curious puppy. It had large eyes to match the image too, earnest and innocent and entirely too sincere. Its attire at second glance wasn’t the typical android faire. A smooth grey android jacket and a dark, patterned tie marked it as something different. Unique.

And just a little too pretty. Every designed, group-focused imperfection on its face made it that much more appealing. Its hair was neatly coifed, pulled up and pinned behind its head, exposing the smooth curve of its neck.

Hanging down the left side of its face was a strategically-placed lock of hair that Connor immediately want to twirl his finger around. He suspected that was the point.

The further down Connor’s eyes traveled, the more he lost his train of thought. The perfectly sensible tie was lying on the slope of its breasts, something even the jacket couldn’t cover. Why the fuck androids had breasts to begin with, Connor couldn’t begin to fathom, and it seemed even more ludicrous now seeing them on a “specialized model.”

The android hadn’t moved apart from its artificial breathing, another thing about the machines that was uncanny. They weren’t human, and the fact CyberLife kept trying to pass them off as such was a goddamn insult to humanity.

He met the thing’s eye, gave an unimpressed huff, and went back to nursing his drink. If the fucking tin can didn’t understand a dirty innuendo, he certainly wasn’t going to ruin its pristine, virginal programming.

Connor doubted everything that had just gone through his head as those unnecessarily realistic tits were pressed against his elbow, without warning or any sense of decency or a concept of personal space.

“How about this, Detective?”

Connor fumbled, nearly spilling his drink, a massive what the fuck! warning flashing in his head as the machine pressed closer.

“I’ll buy you another drink, on the house. Surely that’s worth a few minutes of your time? And if not, you can send me on my way.”

Connor couldn’t speak with that voice right into his ear like a close confidant, sultry and low and borderline pornographic, so it was a good thing the android didn’t bother waiting for a response.

Instead, it turned to Jimmy and said in a louder, more normal tone, “Bartender, another round for the detective, please.”

Jimmy turned from where he was cleaning glasses on the counter, eyebrows shooting upward as he looked from the machine to Connor. It had backed up a few inches, but there were a lot of reflective bottles on the wall. Connor wondered just how much Jimmy had seen.

Connor gave a little helpless shrug as if to say, Don’t look at me, I don’t know what the fuck it’s doing!

But when the damn thing actually brought out real paper money and set it on the counter, Jimmy got moving. Seemed he wasn’t picky about where his money came from, and Connor almost resented the fact he hadn’t thrown the android out on principle.

Who the hell gave it money in the first place? CyberLife? What, did they hand it a few bucks of allowance before letting it off its leash?

Despite all his reservations, and there were a great many of them, Connor was not about to turn down a free drink. Or two.

“Make it a double,” he grumbled, purposefully avoiding the android’s focused gaze. He could practically feel the thing staring into the side of his head, but at least it remained at a distance and wasn’t pressed against his side like a drunk, horny badge bunny anymore.

“Thanks, Jim.” Connor took the glass and tipped it back, drowning it in one go. The slide of the familiar burn down his throat, spreading throughout his limbs, did quite a lot to help ease the tension in his muscles.

He released a heavy exhale, pushed away from the bar, and got to his feet.

“You want to play plastic cop? Okay, then. Keep up,” he said, tilting his head in its direction without actually looking at it. “Or I’m leaving your ass behind.”

Connor didn’t wait for a response, only raised his hand in parting to Jimmy, and pushed open the door to let the rain-drenched Detroit night swallow him whole. But even through the sound of the rain pinging off the hood of his nearby car he could hear the even footfalls behind him, just a little too close for comfort.

Fucking androids.

Next Chapter