#and they did it better than anyone else could have

[heavysighing-dreamyeyes]

So excited for your requests to be open! I know you'll feed us well with your content, whether it's full fics, hc, imagines, blurbs, or even just yapping

"I want to be good. I want to be good for you, but I just don't know how"

A little angsty number with AK!Jason por favor 🙏🏽

Hurt/Comfort, my beloved (And anything with AK!Jason Todd is my kryptonite fr) ~1.4K words

The Arkham Knight can only be described as dangerous. He's a lethal, brutal example of a man with nothing to lose. He's a trained, efficient machine with one mission– one purpose. His sights are set and focused solely on his revenge, on owning Gotham.

So you don't exactly know where you fit in. You. His– his something. Partner isn't quite the right word, but you don't know what else to call him. He crawls into your bed at the oddest hours of the morning, sits across from you at inconsistent, sporadic meals, drops lavish presents on your laps like a cat bringing home dead or dying prey.

He's tangled himself into the very fabric of your life, and for better or worse, you can't imagine your world without him. At some point between him moving your belongings to his apartment (though you would argue the loft apartment above the warehouse filled with tanks and drones is hardly a home) and the first time The Arkham Knight (not Jason) kissed you, he became a permanent fixture in your days and weeks.

You think you might love him. You do love him, actually. Even if you can't bear to say the words out loud– to threaten the tentative peace of a relationship that is and isn't something more– you love him. No matter if what he does– what he's doing– is right or wrong, your very soul craves to be at his side. It doesn't even matter what 'being at his side' looks like anymore.

Jason could never visit you while the sun shines, he could disappear for months on end, he could ask you to throw away your morals and dreams just to be with him. And you would. In some ways, you already have.

But he did fail. He didn't kill Batman. Gotham is still standing. And all that's left of The Arkham Knight is kneeling in front of you, fingers curled into the hem of your shirt like he can't bring himself to touch you– but can't bear to let you go.

You just never imagined he would feel anything like that towards you– at least not anything more than what he already gives you. (That alone feels like a gift, when a man so scarred trusts you enough to close his eyes and relax into your shoulder, when he lets you trace the lines of his face without flinching)

So you don't know what to do when that lethal, terror-inspiring man you've come to know better than anyone else fails. It's something that was never in either of your plans, something you couldn't have begun to suspect, even in your more cynical moments. 

He's crying– sobbing– broken gasps escaping from his throat like he forgot how to breathe. His eyes are manic, darting over your face like there might be something there to save him. And you want to, of course you want to, but you're in your own state of shock.

You don't know how to treat this version of Jason. You're used to The Arkham Knight– him, you know how to cater to, what to say, what to do, when to touch him. But this Jason looks broken, shattered into pieces, so different from the harsh, biting person you know so well. (The one you fell in love with all over again)

"Please," he chokes out– he begs, begs like he expects it to save him, like he has no other choice than to throw himself at your mercy. 

Your silence, your lack of motion, must go on for too long. You can tell he takes it as a sign that you're planning something, that some form of goodbye is forming on your tongue.

You can tell he's thinking the worst in this moment, you can see it in the way his face flickers with anguish, the way his hands grasp and tug desperately at your clothes like it might change your mind.

It makes you want to vomit, that whatever happened between him and Bruce drove him to this state. He truly believes he has to beg to get you to listen, that he has to plead and crawl and offer whatever he thinks you need to hear to get you to stay. 

"Please," he starts again, his ragged breathing making his words garbled and raspy, "I can't– I don't know what to do. I lost and– I– I'm so sorry."

"I'm sorry. I want to be good," He stumbles out into your shirt, pressing kisses over your stomach as if it might please you– earn your favor, "I want to be good for you, but I just don't know how. I'll be good. I'll– I swear, I'll–"

Your throat tightens as he sinks into himself, mumbling your name like a hallowed prayer. He buries his face in your stomach, hiding from the weight of your gaze. You know you need to react, offer him what he needs, but you don't know what it is anymore.

You don't know what comfort you could give, not when he's so unrecognizably erratic, so lost in his own failures and torments. You don't know this Jason, and it scares a small part of you to admit that.

You can't take another moment of it– all of it. You want to run, gather your thoughts and feelings, and break down because he's crying, and you didn't know he still could. But running would break him, tear him down further than he's already fallen. 

So, you do what you've been wanting to since he crawled into your window with a broken helmet and chest empty of the emblem he remade himself in. 

He freezes, sobs stalling his chest, and you have to believe that this is enough, that you can pour everything you can't say into the way you cup his face to wipe his tears, the way you kiss him like your life depends on it. 

You carefully untangle his fingers from your shirt, and he looks up at you, face streaked with tears that don't seem to end, and you sink to the floor to be level with him.

You don't know if what you do next is the right answer, but when you don't have the words to explain how he fills the emptiness in your chest, how your days begin and end with the thought of him, you hope kissing him is enough until you do. 

But he doesn't react, doesn't move under your touch, and you wonder if you've got it wrong. You pull away to ask, to offer apologies of your own, but he's never been very good at letting you get far from him. The Arkham Knight– Jason crashes into you like he'll never get another chance to kiss you.

You need it to be enough. You need him to know that you love him and winning or losing, Arkham Knight or not, you have never stopped loving Jason Todd.

There's no escaping it, no burying it down or leaving it behind. Whatever form it takes, whatever form he takes, you can't fight the feeling that swells in your chest every time his eyes meet yours, every time the ghost of a smile paints his face.

Fingers curled around the back of your neck, nails nearly digging into your skin with a force that sends you both tumbling to the ground. But he never stops kissing you, and you never stop pulling him closer, as if it could save you both. 

His hands do the same, crushing you to him with the thought that it'll get you to stay.

You think it might just fix something, because he's mumbling thank yous against your mouth like you've dragged him out of hell. And maybe you have.

It's a thought too heavy when you can taste his tears on your tongue, when all you can offer him in the moment are harsh, unyielding kisses and hands that grab desperately at his back, hoping it will keep him with you.

You still don't know how to treat this version of Jason, what the right way to comfort him is. But he kisses the curve of your jaw the same way, hovers over your pulse for nearly a beat too long when he drags his mouth down your throat like he always does, and you decide you want to learn.

You don't know if The Arkham Knight is gone, and you're still not quite sure where you fit with him, but Jason's eyes still flash in the same delighted way when your nails scratch a little too roughly at the back of his skull, and you think you know enough.

[damned-punk]

Worth The Wait (Law x Reader)

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Content Warning: kissing

Content Description: you and Law are two sillies who have trouble reckoning with your feelings for one another ♡

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You’d heard a lot of things about Trafalgar Law, mainly that he was a Surgeon of Death and that he had rather wicked abilities. He was feared across many island nations but as he sat before you bickering with Straw Hat Luffy, you couldn’t help but wonder if they’d gotten it all wrong. He’d seemed so serious at first but not in a traditional way, he was alternatively authoritative. He’d bark orders to his crew and they’d obey with such an enthusiasm that directly contrasted his demeanor, it was evident that they knew him for who he actually was and the world did not.

Luffy must’ve felt it too, something similar to what you were feeling now. It wasn’t obvious at first, but you’d started catching a smirk crack across Law’s stoic features from time to time. Once when the bubbly Straw Hat’s captain had captured a beetle and chased Sanji around the beach with it and again when Brook slipped in his 75th bone themed joke of the day. You’d even caught him skillfully picking an argument between Kidd and Luffy, a great pretender who wanted to appear far more militant than he actually was.

You’d noticed other things too, the way soft black tufts of hair framed his face and how the sun would glint across the golden metal of his earrings. His tattoos looked cool toned in comparison to his sunkissed skin, the way his toned chest peaked out from beneath the low neckline of his shirts. You’d noticed the way that he was kind to those in need but never wanted anyone to see it, how much he loved and cared for his crew despite giving their affections a cold shoulder. He could be so mischievous at times, Law was a paradox in his own right.

He’d noticed somethings on his own too, the way your eyes lingered on him for far longer than necessary for conversation. How you’d make sure he had a share of whatever everyone else was enjoying whether it be drinks or food, it was as though you were partial to him. The way that you interacted with his crew perplexed him at first, he wasn’t sure what to think with how friendly you acted toward them. He didn’t have a great track record with letting people into his life, but he was beginning to think that he’d have to make another exception.

“Why did you give it to Traffy?”, Luffy pleaded with watery eyes after you’d offered Law the last of your snacks, “I can’t believe this, I always get your leftovers!”

“You better give it to him, (Y/N)-ya.”, Law interjected, the brim of his hat hiding his eyes, “We can’t have the child throwing a fit.”

“I’m not a child!”, Luffy argued back, totally missing the small smile on Law’s face, “You’re the child! Big goofy hat and all!”

“He’s older than you and if we’re being real, your hat is big and goofy too.”, you retorted while shuffling the food into Luffy’s hands, “You’re definitely the child in this scenario.”

“Always defending your boyfriend and not the Captain.”, Zoro remarked while clicking his tongue, totally embarrassing you.

Law’s face went ablaze, you needed to think of something to snap back with and fast. The three sword style meathead couldn’t have possibly sniffed you out. His remark had to have been born from snark.

“You jealous?”, you teased the swordsman, his eyes rolling to the back of his skull at the remark.

You turned to face Law who had already captured you in his gaze, your eyes met and awkwardly parted. For being a former warlord and current supernova, he was not very seasoned in chivalry. You wanted so desperately for him to make the first move, things were quickly becoming painful. One by one and on both crews, everyone had started noticing the strange aura that clouded your interactions. When you weren’t around, Penguin and Shachi teased Law about it relentlessly.

“They’re right Captain, she’s not gonna bite.”, Bepo tried to be the voice of reason.

“Enough!”, Law raised his voice while the two men snickered, Bepo remaining supportive as ever.

Even Ikakku, who almost never partook in Penguin and Shachi’s dumbassery, agreed that something needed to be done about the pair of you. She was tired of waiting for development in what had become a several months long stalemate. Your time with their crew was only ticking close to it’s inevitable end and she just couldn’t let that happen.

“Hey, do you have a minute?”, she approached you nearing the end of the day, leading you to a private area to talk, “How do you feel about the Captain?”

“Law?”, you asked as though you had no clue what she could be referencing, “He’s nice, a lot less diabolical than the rumors I’ve heard.”

“He’s nice?”, she asked in stunned repetition, “Only nice?”

“I mean he’s strong, funny, he’s a cool guy.”, you replied quickly, doing what you could to not slip up.

“Look, I know it might be a little nerve wracking but you’re gonna have to spell it out for him.”, Ikakku attempted to spark motivation in you, “I can ensure you that he feels the same way, watching you two keep this up is starting to make me long for more at this point.”

You took her comments in stride, lingering around him with more intent throughout the remainder of the night. She purposefully wrangled all her crewmates and excluded Law from their activities, effectively giving him all the free time necessary to break through this one last boundary. The two of you had chatted about everything but nothing of consequence, this was so much more difficult than it realistically needed to be.

“So, what was your little conversation with Ikakku about earlier?”, he asked out of the blue, breaking the non-consequential atmosphere that had begun simmering.

“Oh nothing, she just asked a question.”, you lied through your teeth, avoiding eye contact.

“It didn’t seem like nothing, she’s not one for useless conversation.”, he pried more, seemingly knowing what he was doing.

“What do you think we talked about?”, you forced yourself to meet his face, his eyes already fixated on your features.

“It’s hard to say exactly…”, he trailed off his sentence, maintaining eye contact.

You could’ve sworn he leant closer, but maybe it was your imagination. Either way, you couldn’t back down now. This was your chance to stand your ground, if he backed away you’d have your answer. The seconds felt like minutes and the longer you lingered like this, the closer the two of you had become. You flickered your gaze from his eyes to his lips and fought back a giggle as bewilderment crossed his features. He replicated your gesture, prompting you to brush his nose with the tip of your own. This was as far crossed the boundary that you were willing to go without being met, he’d have to bridge the gap from here.

His face looked as stern and analytical as you’d ever witnessed, he was clearly weighing the potential collateral of giving into his desires. So indecisive and for the first time in a very long time, so vulnerable. He finally leant forward and pressed his lips to your own, gently gliding his tongue along your flesh and giving you every opportunity to pull away. Your hands came to rest against his chest, his tattooed fingers dancing along your cheek and hip as he drank you in.

“EW!”, the two of you reluctantly parted upon hearing the expression, “TRAFFY AND (Y/N) ARE KISSING!”

You couldn’t help but giggle at the effervescent Straw Hat Captain. Some would say that he and Law were total opposites but they were more alike than different. This time, Law laughed with you and let himself revel in such a warm moment. It might’ve been a long time coming, but it was certainly worth the wait.

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[loveandleases]

Guess who's here with another AU ask??? 👀

Supernatural scenario: The ROs are perhaps bounty hunters or just a simple fantasy character and, somehow, they are 'bonded' to a vampiric or demonic MC who is just...CHOOSING to stay with them (cheekily or affectionately soff, I leave that for you to decide!). How would they handle it and what would change once they hit that rela stage?

(I actually have about 3 more questions, but I wanna make sure you don't get overwhelmed! 💜)

Also, can totally picture MC being demonic or vampiric due to being sold to the supernatural at a very young age by their parents to protect Jade - sorry for le dark headcanon 🤣

Ally~ 😃 You're making me want to work on... the thing. Nothing like some supernatural fun. (totally imagining a monster au similar to a certain vn 😉) (The amount of world building I did for each of these... I"m going to have to write these at some point I think.)

❤️ Cam - (Of course it turns him on.) (Hunter/Vampire)

He became a hunter to protect MC—an inside-man kind of deal. To join the hunters, Cam had to become bonded to a vampire, and who better than his bestie?

Pre-Relationship Stage:

It’s always been this way—an unspoken co-dependency. Cam is shunned by other hunters, who see MC as nothing more than a killer, a tool. But because they’re friends, he keeps his emotions in check, pushing down his feelings and curiosities. To a point. That breaking point? Learning that some of the 'approved' blood MC drinks come straight from the source. (jealous lil guy)

Relationship Stage:

“No sucking” from anyone else. Period. That is problematic, considering the hunters still expect MC to feed. But the rules the hunters made to maintain some separation (aka no drinking from the person you're bonded to) were thrown out the window. Why shouldn’t they be? Cam offers himself on a silver platter—pain or no pain. (whimpering mess)

Given that his blood strengthens their bond, heightening everything: their emotions, their strength, even Cam’s life itself. He’s more protective, observant, clingy—and completely unapologetic about it. He reeks of MC and doesn’t care. Ask him to step in front of a stake. He’s already there.

💙 G - Long gone are the days of cleric G. Somehow, they've moved onto Necromancy. (I blame Emmrich Volkarin.) Plus, the amount of longing. 🫦They didn't imagine being tied to anyone, especially not a damn demon. It takes a certain level of control to use their magic. They raise the dead, command spirits, bend life and death to their will. Fate might have been involved, at least that's what they say. The one time G goes against the plans laid out for them, this happens. They tried to banish MC… and ended up bonded instead. 🙄I'm not saying someone performed a poorly worded ritual...

Pre-Relationship Stage: There was a freedom before, even though G had to obey the Necromancy Guild's order. They were left to themselves. Yeah, that's out the damn window. Their is a tether between them now, an unexplainable connection. Who knew a demon would be breaking down G's well planned barrier. They could leave, but for some reason, they don't. So, reluctantly, G lets them in. Who knew a Necromancer and a demon could have a good friendship? Though they do argue... a lot. MC has a well of knowledge they just want to share.

Relationship Stage: It was a slow process to get to the realization that there was something more there. They touched everything within each other. A lifeline. G's magic pulled from MC's very existence. And MC's existence pulled from G. Each kiss felt as if they were swallowing one another whole, but they weren't they were just melding into one another. G was making MC's existence permanent, and MC was making G human. They made G feel things they couldn't dream of, nor conjure up.

Before G hid behind a well thought out mask, even when they were affected by their emotions they could hide it. But not now, not around MC. They could feel each other's emotions, each other's very breath of life. And when they were close to one another, they could feel it as if it was a flame being stoked.

💚 Kara - (Different type of vamp bonding.) It began as a night meant for fun, a little indulgence, and a taste of danger. What started as a (blood) drunken kiss quickly escalated when Kara’s curiosity got the better of her. She’d always wondered—what would fangs against her skin feel like? Would it hurt, or would it thrill? Neither she nor MC were aware of what came next. The bond was accidental, a tether neither of them sought nor understood.

Pre-Relationship Stage: They weren't strangers, but their connection was surface-level - a mix of camaraderie and flirtation. Devoid of true depth. To be bonded to someone you're hiding secrets from, or choose not to admit a crush about, it's hell. MC could feel her emotions, each little time she tells a white lie there's an undercurrent, a change in her scent that just gives her away. It left her vulnerable. The bond forced her to confront a part of herself she'd long buried. She wasn't used to being truly seen. Always just an extra - the fleeting face people desired for a night but forgot by morning. But MC stayed. What began as obligation grew into something real.

Relationship Stage: Kara had loved before - or at least she thought she had. In her mind, those fleeting connections had been important at the time, but they were ephemeral. Everyone eventually took what they wanted and left. She'd believed she had nothing to offer anyone who could outlive the span of her years. Yet with MC, it was different. They didn't want anything grand or eternal. They didn't want power, her beauty, or her lineage. All they asked for was her time, a precious little thing she'd never realized could be enough to give. With MC, Kara found herself letting go of the guilt of caring. She embraced it. Allowed herself to feel every part of their bond. The joy of their affection, the thrill of their fangs sinking into her flesh, and the warmth that came from knowing she was wanted. Truly wanted. For the person beneath the skin, the nameless thing, that makes a body home.

💛 M - The poor thing opened up a tome one too many times, trying to find some fragment of inspiration. Only to have opened a book that held something far greater. A demon without a home, without a name. Surely, M could grant them that much? But you see, naming a demon isn't just an act of kindness. It's a commitment. To name a demon is to give it purpose, to give it meaning - a reason to stay. A 'bond' if you will.

Pre-Relationship Stage: They're excited, immeasurably so. How could they not be? How often does one get the chance to talk to a demon? M doesn't think anything of it, just a new friend they happened to have come across, who has tales of ancient things that are written about. Even experienced. A hierarchy that no one ever knew. All of it floods M with inspiration, with desire to write and create. To learn more about them, and little by little to care about them. At first it was a small part, a little inkling in the back of their had that they never really paid attention to. You care about friends right? You want what's good for them... you want to spend more time with them and see them when you wake. You want to kiss those lips that are just right there and... oh shit, M... M might very well have fallen for them. And much to their surprise, they fell too.

Relationship Stage: It's all new, exciting, and when the excitement wears off. What they call "newlywed stage', it's even better. For the first time, M understood what it meant to be truly loved, to be wanted. They felt it in small moments: the fleeting kiss pressed to their cheek, they way their energies intertwined late at night during their first time together, the hum of magic and intimacy beneath their skin. M couldn't believe they hadn't noticed it before - how their connection had been building all along, in late - night conversations and shared laughter. That feeling in their chest, so warm and fluttering, wasn’t just inspiration. It was love.

💜 Isaac - They had one target, simple enough. One demon to take out, their essence to be sold to the highest bidder. It was a shit job, dangerous even, but it was a job like any other. There was no way Isaac could predict that the tattoos that were carved into his skin, ancient relics, would have another purpose. They had only ever destroyed demons before... but imagine his surprise when he finds a person, wounded and bloody only covered by a sheet, that his tattoos barely react to. Until the moment his fingertips touch them, and the tattoos come alive, shining like never before. Imagine his surprise when this person informs Isaac that his tattoos, don't only kill demons they bind them. So why didn't they kill MC, like every demon before? Because they weren't just a demon, not entirely.

Pre-Relationship Stage: He's angry, the last things he needs is someone close, demon or not. He doesn't have time for this, or any kind of attachment. He needs to fulfill his goal, a promise he made to himself as he sat in front of his dying mother. No demon would be safe until he found the one responsible. No matter how hard Isaac tries, he can't keep his distance. He can't just sit and watch them die. Albeit reluctantly, Isaac and MC are together. In some unholy way, but it doesn't feel unholy. He spends many nights craving a drink to forget how it feels. The energy under his skin and along his arms, the way he can feel the weight of their gaze on him. And they probably feel his too. Or the way his breath catches when they're close. He's flirty with others, but it's a ruse, a ploy to keep people at arms reach. But the demon or half-demon, he is told over and over again. He would much rather reach his arms out for.

Relationship Stage: Their relationship grew naturally. Over time, MC began to see the pain etched into Isaac’s heart—the wounds left behind by his past, by the loss that shaped him. And he began to see them as more than just some bond - a remnant of something he thought was meant to destroy. But as a person. It was impossible not to since the day he saw them, he just wanted to fight it. There's a depth to him that comes out like vapor. His affection, a promise, of staying by their side and keeping them safe. A promise to not lose them like he did his mother, bond or no bond. Isaac has fallen for them in ways that makes his soul hurt. Because the piece that had been missing he finally found. He’s softer now, more caring. Imagine a demon hunter—someone forged in blood and vengeance—soft A demon hunter who learns that not all demons are evil or need to be killed. MC showed him that some of them, like them, belong.

And now Isaac knows… they belong together.

🖤 Ardent - An innkeeper, simple enough. Or it should be. But, of course, like everything else in his life, it isn't. Imagine his surprise when he goes to tell someone they’ve overstayed their welcome, only to find them bloody, half-naked, and unconscious. He grumbles the entire time, bitching that this isn't his job or his problem. But for some damn reason, he can’t just leave them. He’s seen it before—the aftermath of a vampire attack. The transition. The change. But the look of pain on MC’s face? He can’t bear it.

So, against his better judgment, he offers the one thing he has: blood. Human blood alone can’t bond a vampire—it’s magic that binds. And Ardent's blood, unknown to him, isn’t entirely human. It carries ancient, dormant magic. When MC drinks from him, the magic in Ardent's blood doesn’t just fill their body—it freezes the transition, preventing MC from fully succumbing to their vampiric nature. They remain in limbo: no longer human, not quite vampire. They hover on the precipice.

They still need to feed, but they aren’t consumed by it. They can stand in the sun but need more hours of rest. There is a lingering sensation of that magic in their body and a strange connection—an echo of life in Ardent’s hands.

Pre-Relationship Stage: Ardent is all "fuck me for being empathetic." He doesn’t need another mouth to feed, another person to be responsible for. And yet, somehow, he feels responsible. They aren’t dead, not exactly. They look at him with those warm eyes, as if he’s some kind of savior. No matter how much he hates it, how much he tries to fight it, Ardent just can’t turn them away or toss them out. A part of him actually enjoys their company.

Relationship Stage: His eyes might have lingered, and they might have noticed. When their lips curved into a smile, and the glint of their fangs caught the light, something in his stomach churned. A heat he tried to ignore. He’d gotten used to them being around, hell, he even liked it. He might even admit he would miss them if they left. And that is something he fears—that one day, they’ll wake up and realize they could be anywhere else. But instead, they choose to be with him. And that realization has him melting for them.

No one could get him on his knees willingly, except for MC. At first, he worries that his blood has enraptured them somehow. But the truth is, it’s the other way around. Their very existence has captured him—hook, line, and sinker. And if his heart was ice before, guarded and hidden away for safety, it’s ripe for the taking now.

[fictionyoubelieve]

Transcript below the cut

[Facebook post from Philip Low on January 24 at 7:56 am:]

I have known Elon Musk at a deep level for 14 years, well before he was a household name. We used to text frequently. He would come to my birthday party and invite me to his parties. He would tell me everything about his women problems. As sons of highly accomplished men who married venuses, were violent and lost their fortunes, and who were bullied in high school, we had a number of things in common most people cannot relate to. We would hang out together late in Los Angeles. He would visit my San Diego lab. He invested in my company.

Elon is not a Nazi, per se.

He is something much better, or much worse, depending on how you look at it.

Nazis believed that an entire race was above everyone else.

Elon believes he is above everyone else. He used to think he worked on the most important problems. When I met him, he did not presume to be a technical person - he would be the first to say that he lacked the expertise to understand certain data. That happened later. Now, he acts as if he has all the solutions.

All his talk about getting to Mars to "maintain the light of consciousness" or about "free speech absolutism" is actually BS Elon knowingly feeds people to manipulate them. Everything Elon does is about acquiring and consolidating power. That is why he likes far right parties, because they are easier to control. That is also why he gave himself $56 Billion which could have gone to the people actually doing the work and innovations he is taking credit for at Tesla (the reason he does not do patents is because he would not be listed as an inventor as putting a fake inventor on a patent would kill it and moreover it would reveal the superstars behind the work). His lust for power is also why he did xAl and Neuralink, to attempt to compete with OpenAl and NeuroVigil, respectively, despite being affiliated with them. Unlike Tesla and Twitter, he was unable to conquer those companies and tried to create rivals. I fired him with cause in December 2021 when he tried to undermine NV.

Elon did two Nazi salutes.

He did them for five main reasons:

He was concerned that the "Nazi wing" of the MAGA movement, under the influence of Steve Bannon, would drive him away from Trump, somewhere in the Eisenhower Executive Office Building, rather than in the West Wing which is where he wants to be. He was already feeling raw over the fact that Trump did not follow his recommendation for Treasury Secretary and that the Senate also did not pick his first choice;

He was upset that he had had to go to Israel and Auschwitz to make up for agreeing with a Nazi sympathizer online and wanted to reclaim his "power" just like when he told advertisers to "go fuck yourself". This has nothing to do with Asperger's;

There are some Jews he actually hates: Sam Altman is amongst them;

He enjoys a good thrill and knew exactly what he was doing;

His narcissistic self was hoping the audience would reflect his abject gesture back to him, thereby showing complete control and dominion over it, and increasing his leverage over Trump. That did not happen.

Bottom line: Elon is not a Nazi but he did give two Nazi Salutes, which is completely unacceptable.

—

N.B. For the few whining about my post "sans connaissance the cause" and either trembling about my having shattered their illusions about their cult leader or thinking I am defending Elon:

I. My point is that he is transactional rather than ideological;

II. That being said, I am not defending him or his actions, just explaining them and confirming that he did, in fact, do two Nazi Salutes if anyone had doubts or believed the doctored footage of Taylor Swift doing the same thing to normalize what Elon did;

III. At some point, it matters to few people if one is a Nazi or if one acts like one. My father was a Holocaust Survivor. 32 out of 35 of his family members were murdered by Nazis. My mother's grandparents were murdered in Auschwitz;

IV. After Elon tried to manipulate NV's stock in 2021, I fired him with cause, and he was unable to exercise his stock options. In the aftermath of the Nazi Salutes, I told both him and his wealth manager to fuck off. Any remaining friendship between us ended with the Nazi Salutes. He is blocked on my end and I am pretty sure I am blocked on his;

V. I did not share what he told me in confidence. I just happen to know him extremely well, the person, the aspirations and the Musk Mask;

VI. I know who I am, have no desire to be famous and give exceedingly few media interviews. I prefer to work in obscurity and let the work speak for itself. I am certainly not envious and would definitely not want Elon's life, including living in a bubble and having to make one outlandish claim after another and manipulate the public, elections and governments to shore up my stock and prevent the bubble from bursting. Unlike Elon, I am an actual scientist and inventor and I am not pretending to be someone I am not, like a fellow who got his BA in Econ at 26 all of a sudden pretending to be an expert in mechanical engineering, chemistry, rocket science, neuroscience and Al and keeping the people actually doing the work hidden and paying people to play online games in his name to appear smart and feed his so-called "Supergenius" Personality Cult - the "Imperator" has no clothes, and he knows it. I am just very disappointed in what happened to someone I had a lot of deep admiration for and the first person to find out about my concerns about his behavior was always him;

VII. He is the one who betrayed a number of his friends, including Sergey, and, given his actions, many other people who believed him and believed in him. I have no sympathy for this behavior, and at some point, after having repeatedly confronted it in private, I believe the ethical thing to do is to speak out, forcefully and unapologetically, whatever the risks may be, so as to not be part of the timid flock remaining silent while evil is being done, including propping up far right governments around the world in part to deregulate his companies and become the first trillionaire and otherwise to "rule the planet" - he knows Mars won't be terraformed in his lifetime and he really wants his planet. No joke... Ethics matter. People matter. The truth matters.

I took down Descartes (through the Cambridge Declaration on Consciousness) and I am definitely not afraid of a so-called inventor whose greatest invention is his image.

I will not be silent. You should not be either. I am a sovereign individual, and so are you. I stood up to bullies, and am stepping out of the dark to do it again.

Stop working for him and being exploited by him. Sell your Tesla and dump your Tesla stock. Nikola Tesla was a great, creative and courageous man who led with ethics and by example and he would not have wanted for his good name to have been used by him and would agree with my principled stance. Sign off of "X" which is boosting far right propaganda, and of your Starlink as well. He is a complete cunt who doesn't give a shit about you - only about power. Just ask Reid Hoffman. He only wants to control, dominate and use you - don't let him and cut him and his businesses out of your and your loved ones' lives entirely. Remember he is a total miserable self-loathing poser, and unless you are too, he will be much more afraid of you than you should ever be of him.

He will probably come after me, and I am completely fine with that. I am a self-made multibillionaire with an armada of lawyers - literally - and most importantly, I know who I am and who I stand for, the people and their freedoms, whatever happens. He can send his dumb Proud Boys and Oath Keepers after me and they will be butchered on sight. Either way, I would rather die with honor than live as a coward.

"Silence encourages the tormentor, never the tormented." - Elie Wiesel, Holocaust Survivor and Nobel Peace Prize laureate

[Low posted the note to LinkedIn also, and shared screenshots of the full Facebook post to Bluesky here]

[five-rivers]

Soft body horror makes me think of the soft parts of the body - maybe something happening to his human internal organs would be interesting? Vanishing, mutating, or becoming something Other perhaps

(This is also inspired slightly by Black Hole Son, which is a good fic and a fun read.)

.

The Fenton Fantom Freezer (and, wow, Danny had sure frozen when he saw that name written down on a scrap of paper on the kitchen table) did not, quite, work as advertised.

The weapon looked and acted like a handheld spotlight more than anything else, but it actually did something with energized beams of ectoplasm that Danny hadn't quite been able to follow when his parents had been gushing over it at breakfast. It was supposed to paralyze ghosts. It was, in fact, supposed to paralyze one ghost in particular. Phantom, as the name suggested.

However, as Danny could currently attest, it did not do that. Not completely, anyway. Instead, it made every movement weak, small, uncoordinated. They were still movements, however, so if he could just manage to move fast enough--

Danny felt the 'spotlight' of the Fenton Fantom Freezer fall on his legs and destroy the little coordination he had managed.

"Mads! I found him! Wow, that Fenton Fantom Freezer worked like a charm!"

Danny tensed - as much as he could, anyway - as his father approached and then dragged him up by the back of his collar, away from the trash he was trying to hide behind.

"Oh, excellent, Jack!" said Maddie, running around the corner. She was carrying a smaller weapon. Danny didn't remember what, exactly, it did, but he knew it was one of the restraint-type weapons. A net gun? No, it was more complicated than one of the net guns. He remembered that much-

He didn't have any more time to think about it. Maddie pressed the muzzle of the weapon against his back and pulled the trigger. Something solid thunked into him, and when Maddie pulled away, it expanded, wrapping around him, forming a... Well, it was a net gun. It was just a complicated net gun. Regardless, once it had fully deployed, it only left his head exposed.

Even if his powers were working properly, instead of responding as weakly as his muscles, Danny could tell getting out of this would be hard. There was a slight buzz through the filaments of the net that told him it was either slightly electrified or energized with ectoplasm. He couldn't tell which one right now, and it didn't really matter. He wouldn't be able to phase through either way.

It reminded him unpleasantly of Vlad's... cube thing. Had he ever gotten the name of that? He didn't remember.

At least this wasn't shocking him. Yet.

Jack heaved Danny over his shoulder, annoyingly careful about keeping the 'spotlight' on him. Spotlight. More like a stoplight. He'd have to use that if he ever had the misfortune of encountering this thing again.

"Can you believe we finally caught him, after all this time?" asked Jack as they started back towards the GAV. Danny could hear the excitement and happiness in his voice, and the same part of himself that had driven him to let his father capture him, once upon a time, fluttered, weirdly pleased to be the object of that excitement. "What should we do to him first?"

"A thorough examination," said Maddie, promptly. "We'll also need to build a dedicated containment facility to better study its capabilities - assuming it survives the examination, which it certainly should, considering."

As his parents started to talk about the experiments they were going to run on him and what they expected the results from his dissection to look like, it occurred to Danny that he should probably... stop this. Somehow. Probably by turning human. That would be good.

Not in the middle of the street where anyone could see, but in the back of the GAV, maybe after the doors were closed and only his parents could see.  They would understand.  They had to.  

Not being able to see where they were going due to being slung over Jack’s back, reaching the GAV was a bit of a surprise.  Jack put him down on a fold-out gurney that Danny had only barely been aware of despite being in the vehicle all the time, and started strapping him in before Danny could even formulate what he was going to say.  By the time Jack got halfway through, Danny decided that words didn’t matter because the stupid stoplight would probably still be affecting him after he transformed.  His luck was bad like that.  

He reached for his transformation, and found it out of reach, just like the rest of his powers.

It was a strange experience, to panic mentally without being able to panic physically.

Jack buckled the last strap, cinched it down, then strapped the light overhead, so it would shine on Danny during the whole ride.  Then, with a satisfied nod, he shut the back door and went up to the front with Maddie.  

The light - the weapon - was also a weird experience.  It was oppressive.  That was what it was meant to be.  It was a weapon.  But it was also… gentle, almost.  Like a very heavy blanket draped over his whole body.  If that blanket had a sheet of lead in it.  And also a whole gym’s worth of weightlifting equipment.  

His parents were still talking in the front.  The actual content of their words flowed through his ears like water down a drain, lost in the buzz of panic, but the mood of it, the excitement…  They were giddy.  Like kids at a birthday party.  Like Danny and his friends at the premiere for the latest Dead Teacher movie.  

They were… they were really looking forward to this.  To cutting him open.  

They’d be so disappointed when he got away.  Because he would get away.  He had to.  

He just… wasn’t sure how, yet.  

The car pulled to a stop.  “I’ll go ahead and get the lab set up,” said Maddie, unbuckling herself.  

“I’ll be right behind you, Maddie!”

Danny tried to tense, tried to prepare himself to escape, but the forced lassitude of the Fantom Freezer didn’t give him any openings.  He was unhooked from the gurney and bundled up, just as tight as before, and carried to the front door.  No one stopped them.  Fentonworks didn’t really have neighbors, for obvious reasons.  

From there to the lab was something of a blur.  Danny didn’t even remember being carried through the kitchen.  But he must have been.  

“Oh, good, Jack,” said Maddie.  “Just lay it down here.”  She gestured at the flat, shiny, clean examination table.  Above it a copy of the Fenton Freezer was installed, like a spotlight.

“Great thinking!  The battery on this baby was about to run down.”  

“I thought so.” 

“So, what’re we starting with?” asked Jack.

“Cataloguing the subject’s anatomy,” said Maddie.  “Its behavior seems to diverge from other ghosts, but does its body?”

“Ooh!  I’ll get out the dissection kit!”

“And I’ll get the recorders!”

His parents split up, running to opposite sides of the lab.  This would really be a good time to escape.  He wouldn’t even have to go far.  The portal was right there.  

Painstakingly, he shifted himself to the side of the table.  

“Hm,” said Maddie, returning.  “It looks like we’ll have to use the restraints after all.  It has some movement.”

“Huh,” said Jack.  “Maybe we’ll tweak the Fantom Freezer after we see what this guy is made of!”

Maddie put the recorders - already lit up green - to one side and shifted Danny back to the center of the table.  “I think that would be a good idea.  Having such a simple and safe weapon is a real game-changer.”

Yes.  Danny would agree with that statement.  This whole situation was certainly a change.  

With a press of a button, metal cuffs rose up out of the table top and latched around Danny’s wrists and ankles.  “There we go,” said Maddie.  “Now, let’s get this suit off of him.”  She picked up a pair of scissors.

“What about that zipper, Mads?” asked Jack.  

“Oh, interesting,” said Maddie.  She squinted down at Danny’s suit.  “There is a lot more detail here than I would have expected.  You can see the weave.”  She took a pinch of the fabric between her fingers and rubbed it back and forth.  “It’s fairly similar in texture to standard Fentonworks hazmat fabric, but it’s much colder.  I wonder if there is similar detail on the skin.”  She reached up to the grab the zipper of Danny’s suit, just under his chin, and started to pull it down.  

With a zipping sound, Danny opened up.  His ribs pulled back, slowly, gently, like the petals of the flower.  He gasped, and he could see his bare lungs inflate.  Parts of his intestines, no longer held back by suit-skin, started to bulge and spill out.

Danny’s first thought was that it didn’t make sense.  He’d taken his suit off in ghost form before.  He’d seen his skin, in all its detail.  He could feel his skin right now, his hands resting against the insides of his gloves.  

His second, slightly hysterical, thought was that he’d never heard his mother swear like that before.  

His third thought, though, was that it made perfect sense.  

Ghosts, he knew, didn’t have one set shape, one set composition.  Technus went through different versions of himself regularly.  Bones were optional for most ghosts.  Sometimes they had them, and sometimes they didn’t.  Spectra liked turning herself into fire.  Frostbite had told him that a ghost’s appearance could change based on their power levels, feelings, desires, and self-perception.  Bertrand and Amorpho were outright shapeshifters.  Danny himself deformed to dodge attacks.  

What was this, if not a way to dodge an attack he’d seen coming for years?  

His parents wouldn’t have to cut him open.  He’d already done it for them.  It hadn’t even hurt.  

He wanted to laugh.  He couldn’t.  

“... is actually the outer envelope of the subject, part of its body.  There is no ‘skin’ underneath it, although there are a number of pseudo-bones and pseudo-organs.”  Maddie paused to touch one of Danny’s ribs.  “While the organs appear remarkably anatomically correct based on cursory observation, the rib analogs detached from the sternum and spread outwards, almost as if presenting the organs to us - which is ridiculous, but still…”

“So, specimen jars?” asked Jack.  

“In a moment.  We need to document where all of these pseudo-organs are.  It probably doesn’t matter, but–”

“Right you are!  I’ll get the camera!”

They were going to cut him up anyway, then.  Danny wondered how he’d do with missing organs, seeing as being split open from throat to groin wasn’t giving him much trouble.

“You know,” said Jack as he took pictures, “the way these are colored, it reminds me of something.”

“Not human organs,” said Maddie.  

“No, no,” said Jack.  “Of course not.  But–  I’ve got it!”  He put down the camera and ran up the stairs.  

“What is he off to now?” muttered Maddie before going back to speaking into the recorder.  “On closer inspection, with other light sources, the surfaces of the organs appear to be matte… perhaps suede?  The lungs are inflating - to what purpose? - but the heart does not appear to be beating.”

Jack came thundering back down the stairs, triumphantly holding a… doll?  No, was that–?

“Jazz’s anatomical model!  D’you remember making this with her, Mads?”

“Oh, fascinating,” said Maddie.  “I wonder if the base organism for the ghost was familiar with a similar model.  It would explain why it seems to have both male and female internal organs.”

Well, that was sure an embarrassing mistake.  Not one Danny could fix right now, or maybe ever, but if he could ever get away, he’d be sure to work on it.

“But,” said Jack, “is it time?”

Maddie smiled, and the overhead light glinted on her goggles.  “It’s time.  We can start on the pseudo-organs.”

Jack squealed in delight and tossed the model onto a side table.  “Let’s do the intestines first, since they’re all spilling out like - Oh.”

Danny closed his eyes as his fathers hands closed around the pink rope of his intestines, bracing for the pain, because there had to be pain at some point.  There wasn’t.  In fact, it felt sort of… pleasant.  Like hands squeezing his shoulders, only… inside.

“What is it?” asked Maddie.  

“I don’t think this is actually attached,” said Jack, “and it feels…  I dunno, like a stuffed animal.”

Danny opened his eyes in time to see Maddie reach over to feel the organ.  “It does,” said Maddie.  “Like a plushie.”

“Weird plushie,” said Jack.  “But that gives me an idea for a new product!  How’d you feel about a Fenton Dissectomatic!  For Kids!”

“I’ll put a pin in it,” said Maddie as she helped Jack wind Danny’s intestines around Jack’s arm, as if it was a rope.  “Should we examine these in detail now, or later?”

“Later, I think!  I want to see what else is in there.”

Maddie nodded, then unscrewed a specimen jar and held it out to Jack so he could drop the intestines in.  There was a dilute ectoplasm already inside the jar - to better preserve the samples, he’d heard that lecture a million times - and it felt weird when the organ - when his organ - hit the liquid.  Like drinking, but backwards.  

“That was the small intestine,” said Maddie.  “Large, next?”

“Let’s do the whole abdomen!” 

They continued, organ by organ.  The large intestine, the liver, the pancreas, his kidneys, his diaphragm.  Danny… laid there.  Because that was all he could do.  The vaguely pleasant sensation persisted, but it was just too intimate for him to fully disconnect with– with everything.  

“Weird that his lungs are still working without the diaphragm, isn’t it?” asked Jack, excitedly.  

“It does show a fundamental lack of understanding,” agreed Maddie.  

And– How?  Had Danny forgotten some connection between the diaphragm and the lungs?  What did the diaphragm do, anyway?  Something about hiccups?

“Should we try the lungs first,” said Maddie, running her hands over the organs, “or the heart?”

“Lungs!” said Jack.  “Gotta wonder if that movement is just some kind of mimicry thing, or if it’s functional, somehow.”

“This is all mimicry.”

“Well, yeah, but is it actually taking in air, or is the movement totally ectoplasmic?”

“Good question, Jack.  Let’s find out.”

Danny’s lungs slipped free just as easily as all of his other organs.  His rib cage, mostly bare, quivered, as if shivering.  

Danny did feel cold.  

He kept breathing.  His lungs kept inflating.

“Last one,” said Maddie, “then, we can start looking at some of that musculature.  It–”

An alarm went off.  Not anything big, like the Ecto-Exodus alarm, but something small and tinny.  

“What’s that?” asked Jack. 

“Oh,” said Maddie, “I put on an alarm to do dinner.”  She sighed.  “I want to finish this but… We are trying to be better about eating as a family.”

“Yeah!” said Jack.  “Hey, I’ll help, and it’ll all go super fast!  It’s not like the ghost is going anywhere, huh?”  He patted the Fantom Freezer fondly.  “We can even show the kids, after we eat!”

“I don’t know if they’ll want to right after they eat, Jack, it is a bit gruesome for the layperson…” 

Still idly talking, they washed their hands in the sink and went up the stairs.  One of them shut off the main lab lights on their way out.  

Danny blinked at the ceiling, at the light of the Fenton Freezer, slowly.  He was alone in the lab.  His suit– his skin was loose.  

He really hoped that this wasn’t a permanent change, because this was… disturbing.  His still mostly human brain didn’t want to process the sensations it was receiving at all.  

But that was fine.  He had to put all his focus and the little movement he could accomplish on getting out.  

With the minuscule amount of force he was able to bring to bear, he pulled his arm out of his skin bit by bit, slipping naked fingerbones past the cuff of the restraints.  The limb flopped out, muscles ropes of green.  Just as slow, he reached over to one of the equipment tables and grabbed a tray.  With one burst of strength, he swung it overhead, smacking the spotlight of the Fantom Freezer off of him.  

Then he laid there, exhausted by his exertions.  His parents could come back at any minute, but he just…  He had to rest.  

He picked up the edge of his suit skin and pulled it out from the restraint before slipping it back on.  He was already moving easier.  He did the same trick with his other arm, this time trying not to look at his bare muscles, and then had enough range of motion to hit the release button.  The rest of the restraints retracted into the table.

Feeling dazed, he reached down and pulled up his zipper.  

Then, after a moment’s thought, he pulled it back down, revealing his skin and chest.  He touched it.  He could feel it rise and fall.  He reached down.  He could feel his stomach and everything else under his belly.  

Then, bracing himself for disaster, he turned human.  He didn’t die instantly, so he phased his hand inside his body.  It felt exactly the same as it had all the other times he’d done this, looking for things he’d swallowed by mistake or for shrapnel from a fight.  It was– Everything was there, from the diaphragm (what did it do, anyway?) to his beating heart.  

He looked at the specimen jars lined up all around the lab.  

If his organs were still in him, where had all of those things come from?  If those were his organs, what was inside him?

He shuddered.  

Then, he went ghost.  His zipper was already pulled up under his chin, and he could feel the suit slide loosely back and forth against his skin.  His fingernails caught slightly against the stitching of his gloves.  

He breathed.

Then, he flew up through the ceiling, towards his room.  Dinner was going to be soon, after all, and he wanted to be in his room when his parents called him down. 

[starlightkun]

➺ teaser word count: 1421 | full fic: 9.4k ➺ genre & warnings: sci-fi, near future, fluff, falling in love without seeing each other, minor hurt/comfort, coworkers au (but in space), space traffic controllers; brief blood/injury mention ➺ synopsis: in which you go to your job as a space traffic controller every day looking forward to your shifts with one specific coworker who you might be falling head over heels for. and sure, you don't know quebec's real name, nor what he looks like, but you two talk for hours a day between guiding landings and take-offs, and you know him better than anyone else. you’re perfectly happy, until his end of the comms falls silent one day and won’t reconnect ➺ extra info: i highly recommend being aware of the existence of the icao alphabet so ur not thrown for a complete loop by ppl’s nicknames in here lol. u don’t need it memorized but i swear i didn’t pull these words out of thin air ok. also, in american aviation, the number 9 is pronounced niner, ur not going crazy and neither am i ➺ estimated release: saturday, february 1, 2025 3:00 p.m. eastern time

The days all tended to blur together on the space station if you weren’t careful. Time was pretty meaningless in the middle of nowhere with no seasons or daylight to give your body cues. STCs mostly relied on shifts and tower cycles as units of time—the duration of a shift, and how long you were assigned to one tower before you moved to the opposite side of the station.

You were back on shift with Quebec, and so far, it had been a busy one. You’d barely had time to breathe between arrivals and departures, much less chitchat. Finally, during what seemed to be a lull, you pulled out your bag of food from your bag.

“Alright, that’s it,” you huffed. “I’m eating dinner.”

“What do you have tonight?” He asked.

“Didn’t have time to run to the convenience store today so it’s just some snacks and stuff I had in my room. Might have to make a vending machine run, sorry.”

“Look in the minifridge.”

“What? Did you rig it to explode?” You pushed your rolling chair back to grab the edge of the fridge, pulling the door open to peer inside.

“You’ll just have to find out.”

A plastic container greeted you, and you grabbed it, already spotting something green inside. Setting it and your mic back down on your desk, you took the lid off with a pop, eyes bugging out of your head as you looked at the green and white cubes. The color and shine alone told you that these weren’t grown in an ag-bubble, these were imported straight from Earth.

“Quebec…” You breathed out in awe. “You did not.”

“You can’t justify spending that much on something you’re going to digest, but I can,” he replied kindly. “Go ahead, eat. Happy one year at the station.”

“I didn’t even remember that was today,” you admitted.

You grabbed a cube between your fingers, not bothering to find utensils. The best part was licking your fingers after, in your opinion. The fruit was juicy and sweet, no bitterness from the rind at all, and so much more flavor than ag-bubble fruit could ever develop. You felt tears well up in your eyes, embarrassingly.

“God, it’s so good. Thank you,” you mumbled through your half-eaten honeydew. “I wish I could share it with you right now.”

“No, don’t worry about me,” he said, and you heard a faint pop of another plastic lid opening on his end of the line. “They were selling it by weight. I had them send some to your tower and some to mine.”

You smiled at the tower across the landing dock. “We are sharing it right now.”

“Yeah, we are.”

“Have you ever been on a picnic, Bec? Like, a real one, outside on a blanket with a picnic basket on the grass with fresh air and food and your friends and family?”

“Once, when I was really little. I don’t remember much about it. My mom showed me a picture,” he mused. “Have you, Zu?”

“No, never. I was born on a mining colony. Never breathed fresh air in my life, or been to Earth. Always been in ships, stations like this, or firmaments.” Firmaments—man-made structures on the surface of planets whose conditions were not naturally habitable for humans. Within the firmaments, the air quality, pressure, temperature, and planet’s surface could be regulated in order to allow for human survival. The actual mining typically happening outside of the firmaments, however, and that was only one reason that it was so dangerous—and lucrative.

“What about your parents?”

“They weren’t born on Earth either, never saw the big deal about going to visit.” You shrugged, popping another piece of melon in your mouth. “What about you?”

“My parents were born on Earth. They wanted me to be born there too, but I came a little early while they were on a trip to a nearby resort planet. The closest hospital was on its moon…”

“Did you grow up on Earth then?”

“Visited after I was born, went back and forth for a good bit of my childhood, but my parents just liked traveling too much to stay in one place.”

“My family moved around a lot too. Mining pays good, but you have to move with the materials. There’s always some hot new mineral in vogue that’s paying more than the last thing everyone wanted. You never want to stick around until a mine dries up.”

“How long does that take? Like, how much did you move around?”

“Depends. Sometimes we were there for a few weeks or months, sometimes years.”

Quebec was quiet for a moment, and you took the opportunity to eat two more pieces of honeydew. Then, he said, “Zulu?”

“Yeah?”

“Why did you take this job? All the way out here?”

“I didn’t want to work in the mines with my parents my whole life. Saw the opening and figured I might as well give it a go,” you answered simply. “What about you?”

“Kind of similar. More desperate, I think,” he admitted. “I was in med school, actually, and I was absolutely miserable. Just at rock fucking bottom. I told my parents I was going to quit and they said I couldn’t unless I either enrolled in law school, or got a job. This was the first one I found.”

You blinked, watching the dark dot in the window across from you. “Wow. I don’t think you’ve ever told me that.”

“Haven’t talked to anybody about it since coming here.”

“Why’d you ask me that then? You had to have figured I would’ve turned the question back on you.”

“I… don’t think I knew I was going to tell you that until I said it.”

“You know you can always talk about whatever with me, Bec.”

“I know,” he replied warmly. “Same for you. I’m all ears.”

“So you quit med school, took the first job you could find and just happened to find something you liked doing?”

“No,” he chuckled. “I did not take to being an STC at all initially. I wanted to quit after my first week. I was on this stupid station in the middle of nowhere starting all over again at a job that paid considerably less than the surgeon I was supposed to be. I was miserable, and lost, and kept thinking that they were right and I should just put my head down and be a doctor or a lawyer or whatever. It felt like I could’ve disappeared from the universe and nobody would notice.” He sighed, and you felt your heart twist in your chest. “Then during my second week, another new STC started, and we ended up on a shift together. And you said—there’s no way you remember this, Zulu, it’s so… but—What do you remember about that shift?”

You rifled through your memories desperately for something, anything specific, but came up empty. “Not much, I mean, it was like my second one, I think. So I was still pretty nervous about doing everything right, and I remember meeting you, but I don’t think we even talked much outside of small talk, right?”

“That’s great. I mean it, I love that you’re just like this, that you weren’t trying to do it,” he laughed with his whole chest, and you smiled fondly, not feeling like he was laughing at you at all. “Anyway, it was pretty dead that shift, and in one of the quiet times, you got on the mic and you told me to look outside. I thought there was a ship or something going on. But then you said, ‘I’ve never seen these stars before.’ Which made me realize I hadn’t even looked at the stars since arriving at the station. At the end of the shift, you said, ‘Talk to you next time, Quebec.’ And I decided ‘sure, I’ll stick around until next time, see what else she’ll say.’” His words made you snicker softly, and he continued, “And then you just kept saying these little, interesting things, or things that made me smile for the first time in years, or you’d ask questions and let me talk about whatever I wanted… I kept putting off quitting until I wasn’t half-bad at being an STC and didn’t hate living at the station anymore.”

“Bec…” You murmured, fidgeting with the wire of your headset. “Do—”

A dot popped up on your monitor then, and Quebec said, “Ah, there’s the ambassador.”

⤷ masterlist

TEASER TAGLIST

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[seitmai]

Sooo many things to say

You'd been quiet for days, chalking it up to exhaustion from work, but Bradley was a little concerned. He was missing out on a lot of cooking and cleaning at home, as well as responsibilities with Rose. Most days, he was collapsing in bed right after you, body tired and brain overworked. But he was close to advancing a few of his pilots to the next stage in their careers, and he didn't want to let up just yet.

Yeah now guess how tired it makes to grow a human from scratch while also being the food source for another one🙄

Bradley looked down at your face, the perfect curve of your cheek catching the sunlight. You were beautiful. Every bit as stunning as the day he first laid eyes on you in one of the classrooms he passed on a regular basis. "Sweetheart, if there's anything good or just in this world, it better be another girl. Then I'd have three of you to look at."

🥰🥰🥰

"Rose looks like you. Everyone thinks so. She's adorable." He pulled you to a stop and leaned down to kiss your cheek. "And her face already has this exact curve that I'm fucking obsessed with."  Bradley let his lips linger, loving the way your cheek warmed as you stepped all the way into his embrace. You seemed on the verge of telling him something or asking a question, your posture never quite relaxing. He'd noticed that recently. Like you couldn't let yourself completely go with him like you always did. He wanted to ask you what was going on, but he was more than willing to wait until you were ready to say something on your own.

Say it!!!

"Let's go," he sighed. "Dr. Morris already thinks I'm an idiot. I better not add tardiness to her list of complaints about me."

hahaha fair

"Fuck yes," Bradley gasped, scooting his chair a little closer. "I mean, please." You and Dr. Morris were both wearing smirks as he squeezed your hand. He was so excited, it was hard to swallow. He didn't care if it was a boy or a girl. He felt the same way last time around, too. He just wanted a healthy kid he could dote on.

He loves being a dad so much 🥹

He was up out of his seat, sending the thing screeching across the floor as he hooted. Okay, so maybe he did have a bit of a preference for another daughter, but he would have been happy either way. "Another girl!" he shouted while you smiled up at him. "Just me and my three beautiful girls." Bradley let his lips collide with yours, kissing you until he got his fill. Dr. Morris and the rest of the ultrasound and everything else could just wait a few minutes while he soaked in this pure perfection.

Bradley's excitment for his daughter(s) is so pure 🥹

You wanted to be happy. You really did. But it was too hard. Somehow letting your sadness ebb and flow was easier. Especially whenever you ventured too far away from your lab or your office. Indigo was always around. It was like she knew were to find you. And perhaps she did. Your name was in the directories around base. But it felt like she was mocking you. She obviously wanted your husband, and he was either oblivious or hiding something.

This is just breaking my heart, she has already so much on her plate...

Indigo smiled and laughed, showing off her perfect teeth. "Well, I can't give you details here, but... it's no wonder he's willing to spend so much time with me after hours. Anyone with eyes can see his wife let herself go this time around." Your cheeks burned as she added, "He's more than happy to help me with absolutely anything I need." You sucked in a deep breath, certain she was talking about Bradley. And you. When the elevator arrived you ducked inside, jamming your finger against the button for your floor. As the doors slid shut, Indigo's gaze connected with yours, and she stood there proudly with her friend like she'd actually managed to steal Bradley from you.

I think I'm gonna throw up🤢

"She's right," you whispered, tossing your lunch onto your desk and running for the bathroom. One glance in the mirror as you ran for an empty stall left you sobbing in the ladies' room. You looked awful. It was no wonder Bradley was paying extra attention to her. The fear that looking at Indigo had already turned into touching her was eating away at you. When you flushed the toilet, you turned and gagged before emptying the meager contents of your stomach into the bowl.

Oh no, I just wanna hug her 🥺 (and maybe slap some sense in Bradley)

"Actually, no," he replied, watching as his best friend looked inside to see who was waiting for him. She made a face, gaze snapping back to his. "Can it wait until later?" Nat pressed her lips together like she was fighting off a scowl. "I wanted to see if you were free to workout with me later," she whispered. "I could stop by after dinner, and we could do some reps in your garage?"

Oh I have a feeling Nat is gonna my part in slapping some sense into him

"I could spot you a mile away," he told her, and she chucked her bag at his chest. They both laughed when he caught it. "You know what I can see a mile away?" she asked. "What?" "The word dumbass written across your forehead." "Why is he here?" Bradley asked, and a split second later, Jake came strolling in like he owned the place.  Nat and Jake shared a look as Jake tossed his gym bag next to hers. "I thought I might need some backup." Now Bradley was annoyed and also confused. "Backup? For what?"

Oh good he is so clueless...also Jake for backup is great because he no matter what will be on BG's side!

"I love you, Bradley. I really do. But I still have to follow girl code."

Nat is just the best🫰🏻

"Nat, I have no fucking clue what you're talking about." The clanging of Jake adding weights to the bar made Bradley want to scream as Nat shook her head in pity. "She wants in your pants," Jake drawled. "Who?" Bradley asked, still unsure what they were even talking about. "Your student with the crazy blue eyes!" Nat said, smacking him hard on the chest. Bradley held up his left hand, complete with wedding band. He rarely ever took it off, especially since it got him into hot water with you when he was deployed. But as he watched the band shine under the fluorescent lights, his lips parted wordlessly, and he stood there while both Nat and Jake scrutinized him.

Oh god he really doesn't get it 🤦🏻‍♀️

If Indigo had been flirting with him this whole time, he'd written her off as an overzealous young pilot trying to prove herself. Now every interaction replayed through his mind, and he rubbed his palm over his eyes as he groaned. There was no way this was happening to him. He'd been alone with her on several occasions in his office. The door always remained open, but she'd pushed for him to close it. Bradley's cheeks burned with mortification, and he wasn't sure he could even look Nat in the face. If Indigo really was trying to get in his pants, then he was a joke. He was an absolute joke, and none of the younger pilots took him seriously in his new role. That thought made him sick, but not as sick as the idea that maybe you'd noticed something as well. Bradley swallowed hard. "Oh, fuck." When he swallowed again, he wanted to scream.

Halleluja! It got through his thick skull

"Okay, there's my answer," Nat whispered, wrapping her fingers gently around his wrist and pulling his hand away from his face. She pressed herself up onto her tiptoes and kissed his cheek. "Thank god you're just stupid. It would be so much worse if you were messing around with her intentionally."

She's so real for that lol

"I'm fucking married, Nat! I made wedding vows. I have a daughter, and my wife is pregnant with another girl. What the fuck would I cheat for? What's going to be better than this?" "Nothing's gonna be better than Angel," Jake drawled. "I'm still not sure if it was dumb luck or divine intervention, but she's way out of your league, Bradshaw."

Jake is jumping on the opportunity to bash Bradley hahah

"I know," Bradley snarled. "You think I don't know that? She's fucking perfect." He tilted his head back, blinking up at the lights. "Do you think she knows Indigo was trying to flirt with me?" "Absolutely," Nat replied, and Bradley forced himself to meet her eyes. "Yes, asshole," Jake added. "She's not stupid like you are."

They are not wrong🤷🏻‍♀️

"God damn it," he groaned, realizing Nat was lifting weights while Jake spotted her. "Do you think I should talk to Mav tomorrow?" "Yes," they both replied in unison. The fact that they agreed on something was scary enough, but that let Bradley know just how fucked he was.

Oh he is so fucked when they gang on him like that

When Bradley noticed movement, he looked up at the sliding glass door. You were carrying Rose around the living room, bouncing her in your arms as you yawned. Getting the Nugget ready for bed was supposed to be his job. He loved it. The bedtime stories and the snuggles were the best part. He needed to have this.

I love that he loves doing the bedtime routine🥹

Finally he walked inside, sliding the door closed quietly behind him, trying not to panic. Rose was nearly asleep, but you let him take her into his arms. Bradley kissed her all over her sweet face before forfeiting her to her crib, then he climbed in bed with you. When he reached for your hand, you curled up against him, and he let his hand rest along your belly. "I love you, Sweetheart," he whispered, heart aching. "I love my three girls."

Oh he better start to act like it... I have a bad feeling 🥴

Aim for the Sky Part 33 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Bradley can't wait to learn if Rose is going to have a younger brother or sister. Planning for the baby means planning for the future, but Bradley can feel that you're unhappy. With help from friends, he finally figures out why.

Warnings: Angst, adult language, body image, DILF Roo, pregnancy, jealousy, vomiting

Length: 3500 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

Aim for the Sky masterlist. This was written to accompany my series Is It Working For You? along with a bunch of my one-shots and other series, but it can be read on its own! Check my masterlist for the reading order.

You'd been quiet for days, chalking it up to exhaustion from work, but Bradley was a little concerned. He was missing out on a lot of cooking and cleaning at home, as well as responsibilities with Rose. Most days, he was collapsing in bed right after you, body tired and brain overworked. But he was close to advancing a few of his pilots to the next stage in their careers, and he didn't want to let up just yet.

Truthfully, he was enjoying many aspects of his day-to-day at work. He loved making decisions that would benefit his group. When he had a compelling answer for his superior officers, it made him feel so good about himself. He didn't even mind putting in the extra hours. But it was clear that Indigo wanted to be his class pet, and he wasn't quite sure what to do about that.

She was weighing on his mind a lot, most likely because she was constantly invading his office hours. He wanted to tell her she didn't have to try so hard to be the best aviator in the bunch when she just simply was the best one. But that would be feeding her ego, which probably wasn't the smartest option right now.

"Are you ready?"

Bradley looked up from his desk to see you standing there, and he jumped to his feet. "Of course I'm ready," replied with a smile, pushing all of his paperwork to the side and logging out of his computer. "Been looking forward to this."

You smiled softly, hand resting on the slight swell of your belly as you shifted your weight from one booted foot to the other. "Me too," you whispered, and Bradley grabbed his keys, wallet and phone from his desk drawer. He reached for your hand, lacing his fingers between yours and headed out into the sunny October afternoon.

"Time for our final guesses," you said. "Do you think it's a boy or another girl?"

Bradley looked down at your face, the perfect curve of your cheek catching the sunlight. You were beautiful. Every bit as stunning as the day he first laid eyes on you in one of the classrooms he passed on a regular basis. "Sweetheart, if there's anything good or just in this world, it better be another girl. Then I'd have three of you to look at."

"Rose looks like you, Bradley!" you insisted immediately, breaking out in the biggest smile he'd seen on your face in weeks. 

"Rose looks like you. Everyone thinks so. She's adorable." He pulled you to a stop and leaned down to kiss your cheek. "And her face already has this exact curve that I'm fucking obsessed with." 

Bradley let his lips linger, loving the way your cheek warmed as you stepped all the way into his embrace. You seemed on the verge of telling him something or asking a question, your posture never quite relaxing. He'd noticed that recently. Like you couldn't let yourself completely go with him like you always did. He wanted to ask you what was going on, but he was more than willing to wait until you were ready to say something on your own.

"We'll be late if we don't get a move on," you whispered. Bradley responded by kissing along your cheek to your lips. "I'm serious, Roo," you mumbled.

"Let's go," he sighed. "Dr. Morris already thinks I'm an idiot. I better not add tardiness to her list of complaints about me."

A short drive later, and the two of you were walking into the waiting room right on time. You barely sat down before a nurse was calling you back and handing you a hospital gown.

"It's weird without Rose here," you said as you got undressed. Bradley held out the gown for you to slip into, shaking his head.

"Nah. This is just for us. She can hear all about it later after work."

He was just about to close the distance to stop you from tying the gown closed so he could get another look at you, but Dr. Morris strolled in.

"How are we all doing?" she asked, shooting Bradley a look on her way past. It wasn't like he was capable of knocking you up again, but she was looking at him like he might have.

"Fantastic," he replied at the same time you said, "Okay."

He shot you a look as you eased yourself up on the table. He wasn't sure what he could do to make you happier. A conversation was clearly necessary now, but he didn't even know how to initiate it. If finding out more about the second Nugget today wasn't enough to make you smile, he didn't know what was.

He dropped down into the chair at your side, wrapping his big hand around yours as Dr. Morris spread that warm gel across your belly and asked you an array of questions. He listened to your answers as his heart beat a little faster. He was excited about this. Soon you could talk about baby names and nursery themes. He couldn't wait to meet his second child in the spring. 

Bradley kissed your fingertips, watching intently as your doctor isolated some ultrasound images. Then she asked, "Do you want to find out the sex?"

"Fuck yes," Bradley gasped, scooting his chair a little closer. "I mean, please."

You and Dr. Morris were both wearing smirks as he squeezed your hand. He was so excited, it was hard to swallow. He didn't care if it was a boy or a girl. He felt the same way last time around, too. He just wanted a healthy kid he could dote on.

"It's a girl."

He was up out of his seat, sending the thing screeching across the floor as he hooted. Okay, so maybe he did have a bit of a preference for another daughter, but he would have been happy either way.

"Another girl!" he shouted while you smiled up at him. "Just me and my three beautiful girls."

Bradley let his lips collide with yours, kissing you until he got his fill. Dr. Morris and the rest of the ultrasound and everything else could just wait a few minutes while he soaked in this pure perfection.

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

Bradley had been inundating your text thread for days with links to various nursery themes, but meanwhile you and he hadn't even decided which room would be your second daughter's.

"A second daughter," you whispered at your desk. Your parents were excited; you got to watch your mom and dad cry over FaceTime. Rose was too young to care, but one day she might have an opinion about her sister. You, on the other hand, felt like a mixed bag of emotions.

You wanted to be happy. You really did. But it was too hard. Somehow letting your sadness ebb and flow was easier. Especially whenever you ventured too far away from your lab or your office. Indigo was always around. It was like she knew were to find you. And perhaps she did. Your name was in the directories around base. But it felt like she was mocking you. She obviously wanted your husband, and he was either oblivious or hiding something.

When you managed to let your intrusive thoughts win out, you checked his phone only to find pretty much nothing untoward. Other than ruining the surprise of what was probably supposed to be an anniversary gift, all you found was one unanswered message Indigo sent to him a while ago. It bordered on flirtatious, and you were a little concerned that he gave her his phone number, but there was really nothing there.

But she was in your face on base enough that you kept to your office as much as you could. Of course, today was the day you were absolutely starving, and you left your lunch at home. You could pop down to the cafeteria, grab a sandwich to appease yourself and the baby, and then bring it back up here to eat it. Should be a piece of cake.

Hot turkey sandwiches were on the menu, and you almost cried tears of joy as you had one packed up in a container with extra gravy and a side of mashed potatoes. It smelled so good, you couldn't wait to take a bite. 

When you were waiting for the elevator, you froze with your lunch in your hands. You could see Indigo and Spice heading out of the cafeteria, and there was hardly anyone in the lobby for you to try to hide behind. You felt absolutely ridiculous as you stood there eavesdropping.

"What kind of progress have you made?" Spice asked, voice carrying over the sound of conversation around you.

Indigo smiled and laughed, showing off her perfect teeth. "Well, I can't give you details here, but... it's no wonder he's willing to spend so much time with me after hours. Anyone with eyes can see his wife let herself go this time around." Your cheeks burned as she added, "He's more than happy to help me with absolutely anything I need."

You sucked in a deep breath, certain she was talking about Bradley. And you. When the elevator arrived you ducked inside, jamming your finger against the button for your floor. As the doors slid shut, Indigo's gaze connected with yours, and she stood there proudly with her friend like she'd actually managed to steal Bradley from you.

A sob escaped your lips, and you tripped along to your office door. You really did look awful. Your skin was broken out, and you were going to need to start wearing the maternity tent well before your third trimester. Your belly was already tender, and then the baby decided this was the perfect moment to kick hard enough you thought you were going to wet your khakis.

"She's right," you whispered, tossing your lunch onto your desk and running for the bathroom. One glance in the mirror as you ran for an empty stall left you sobbing in the ladies' room. You looked awful. It was no wonder Bradley was paying extra attention to her. The fear that looking at Indigo had already turned into touching her was eating away at you. When you flushed the toilet, you turned and gagged before emptying the meager contents of your stomach into the bowl.

When you finally made it back to your office, your stomach couldn't handle a single bite of food. You dumped it in the trash.

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

Bradley was just wrapping up a meeting with Maverick when Indigo cornered him outside his office. "Can I help you with something?" he asked, trying to keep the amusement from his voice. She was getting to be relentless.

As she shook her head slowly, she laughed. "I already told you, Sir, I can think of countless things you could help me with."

"Well why don't you run some of them past me?"

Her eyes widened as she licked her lips. "We could do that at the Hard Deck? I could still buy you that drink?"

Bradley sighed, hands planted on his hips which somehow drew her in closer. "I can't let any of you buy me drinks. Sorry, but that's not going to happen." He nodded toward his door. "But I have about fifteen minutes if there's something I can help you with."

She nodded. "Fifteen minutes would probably be more than enough, Sir."

Indigo stepped inside his office, glancing back at him over her shoulder, but Bradley saw another familiar face turn the corner in the hallway.

"Hey, there, hot shot," said Natasha, making Bradley smile. "You have a minute?"

"Actually, no," he replied, watching as his best friend looked inside to see who was waiting for him. She made a face, gaze snapping back to his. "Can it wait until later?"

Nat pressed her lips together like she was fighting off a scowl. "I wanted to see if you were free to workout with me later," she whispered. "I could stop by after dinner, and we could do some reps in your garage?"

"Absolutely," he replied. "See you around seven?"

"Yeah." 

She took one more look at Indigo before marching back the way she came, leaving Bradley with nothing to do but take a seat behind his desk.

"Do you want me to close the door?" Indigo asked, voice laced with hope as she half stood.

"Leave it," Bradley replied, once again showing no hint of favoritism. "Now, what did you want to talk about?"

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

After dinner, you excused yourself to Rose's nursery to feed her and make a phone call to your parents. Bradley kissed you on the forehead before doubling back to the bedroom to change into gym clothes. When he let you know Nat was coming over to workout in the garage, you seemed almost relieved.

He started setting up his weights and bench press when he heard the sound of a familiar engine pull up to the house. A minute later, Nat was strolling in wearing bright pink spandex with a matching gym bag. 

"I could spot you a mile away," he told her, and she chucked her bag at his chest. They both laughed when he caught it.

"You know what I can see a mile away?" she asked.

"What?"

"The word dumbass written across your forehead."

He rolled his eyes, dropping her bag onto one of the mats. Then he froze as he heard another engine pull up to a stop at his driveway. This one made him glare at Nat.

"Why is he here?" Bradley asked, and a split second later, Jake came strolling in like he owned the place. 

Nat and Jake shared a look as Jake tossed his gym bag next to hers. "I thought I might need some backup."

Now Bradley was annoyed and also confused. "Backup? For what?"

Natasha closed the distance to him, patting Bradley on the chest with a firm hand. Her dark eyes conveyed concern as she asked, "Are you fucking stupid? Or are you doing it on purpose?"

"Huh?"

"I love you, Bradley. I really do. But I still have to follow girl code."

"Nat, I have no fucking clue what you're talking about."

The clanging of Jake adding weights to the bar made Bradley want to scream as Nat shook her head in pity.

"She wants in your pants," Jake drawled.

"Who?" Bradley asked, still unsure what they were even talking about.

"Your student with the crazy blue eyes!" Nat said, smacking him hard on the chest.

"Indigo?" Bradley asked, taking a step away from her. Both Nat and Jake were nodding as Bradley's brow creased. "She's like twenty-six years old."

"So?" Nat asked, hands planted on her hips.

"So, she's not trying to get in my pants. I'm married. Everyone knows I'm married."

Bradley held up his left hand, complete with wedding band. He rarely ever took it off, especially since it got him into hot water with you when he was deployed. But as he watched the band shine under the fluorescent lights, his lips parted wordlessly, and he stood there while both Nat and Jake scrutinized him.

If Indigo had been flirting with him this whole time, he'd written her off as an overzealous young pilot trying to prove herself. Now every interaction replayed through his mind, and he rubbed his palm over his eyes as he groaned. There was no way this was happening to him. He'd been alone with her on several occasions in his office. The door always remained open, but she'd pushed for him to close it.

Bradley's cheeks burned with mortification, and he wasn't sure he could even look Nat in the face. If Indigo really was trying to get in his pants, then he was a joke. He was an absolute joke, and none of the younger pilots took him seriously in his new role. That thought made him sick, but not as sick as the idea that maybe you'd noticed something as well.

Bradley swallowed hard. "Oh, fuck." When he swallowed again, he wanted to scream.

"Okay, there's my answer," Nat whispered, wrapping her fingers gently around his wrist and pulling his hand away from his face. She pressed herself up onto her tiptoes and kissed his cheek. "Thank god you're just stupid. It would be so much worse if you were messing around with her intentionally."

"I'm not," he barked, angry at the insinuation. "I wouldn't. I've never even touched her!"

Nat's hands were on his chest, coaxing him to calm down, but he was too worked up. "Easy, Soul Sister," she said, but he was shaking his head now.

"I'm fucking married, Nat! I made wedding vows. I have a daughter, and my wife is pregnant with another girl. What the fuck would I cheat for? What's going to be better than this?"

Bradley's chest was heaving with ragged breaths as she guided him to sit on his bench. He landed hard, jostling the weights as he looked up at two sympathetic faces.

"Nothing's gonna be better than Angel," Jake drawled. "I'm still not sure if it was dumb luck or divine intervention, but she's way out of your league, Bradshaw."

"I know," Bradley snarled. "You think I don't know that? She's fucking perfect." He tilted his head back, blinking up at the lights. "Do you think she knows Indigo was trying to flirt with me?"

"Absolutely," Nat replied, and Bradley forced himself to meet her eyes.

"Yes, asshole," Jake added. "She's not stupid like you are."

"Fuck." Bradley stood and started pacing around. He felt like his job and marriage were suddenly on the line. He didn't know what to say to you that wouldn't potentially make things worse right now. If he could think of something reasonable, he'd run across the yard and back inside the house and say it to your face.

Maybe this was part of the reason you'd been so quiet? But it didn't make sense. He never talked about Indigo outside of the context of work, because there was simply nothing else to say. But after that night at the bar, you were really fucking mad at him. He thought you were mad that he got drunk, but maybe there was more to it.

"God damn it," he groaned, realizing Nat was lifting weights while Jake spotted her. "Do you think I should talk to Mav tomorrow?"

"Yes," they both replied in unison. The fact that they agreed on something was scary enough, but that let Bradley know just how fucked he was.

But he would take care of everything. He'd talk to Mav and figure it all out. What other choice did he have? 

"I'm heading inside," he murmured. "Can the two of you turn off the lights and lock up when you're done."

Bradley didn't wait for an answer. He was already walking across the backyard, craving your reassuring touch that he wasn't quite sure he deserved. When his phone vibrated in the pocket of his shorts, he pulled it out. He was met with another text from Indigo, but this time there was a photo as well. She was on the beach at sunset, the orange and pink sky somehow making her eyes look even more startlingly blue, and she was smiling at the camera. When his eyes slid down the screen to her cleavage, he almost dropped his phone. But not before he read the text.

This beach is so beautiful. Wish you were here.

Bradley couldn't decide what to do. Turn around and go back to the garage? Go inside the house? Sit down on Rose's jungle gym and cry? Smash his phone to bits? When another text appeared, he looked at it immediately.

Oops, I sent that to the wrong person. Have a good night, Sir.

Bradley squeezed his phone in his hand until he was afraid it might break. Then he opened a different text thread and pounded out a message, hitting send immediately. 

Mav, I need to talk to you about something important first thing in the morning.

When Bradley noticed movement, he looked up at the sliding glass door. You were carrying Rose around the living room, bouncing her in your arms as you yawned. Getting the Nugget ready for bed was supposed to be his job. He loved it. The bedtime stories and the snuggles were the best part. He needed to have this.

Finally he walked inside, sliding the door closed quietly behind him, trying not to panic. Rose was nearly asleep, but you let him take her into his arms. Bradley kissed her all over her sweet face before forfeiting her to her crib, then he climbed in bed with you. When he reached for your hand, you curled up against him, and he let his hand rest along your belly.

"I love you, Sweetheart," he whispered, heart aching. "I love my three girls."

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

Start getting your shit together, Bradley. Indigo has shown she's relentless. Also, I thought I was solid on the baby's name, but I might put it to a vote. Stay tuned. Thanks @beyondthesefourwalls

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[unluckilyimnot]

Hihi!!^^ Could you please make a bllk and/or bonten hc where she has a friend who always tries to one-up her to get her bf?

You can include all the characters you like and if you do, have fun writing it!!^^

Friend trying to win your bf over/talking shit behind your back

Characters: rindou, ran, mikey, chifuyu, wakasa,

Note : Hiii! Thank you sm for this request! I hope I did it well and you'll like it ! I did both bllk and tr but I'll do it for more fandom I write for bc I like it lslsls like genshin and windbreaker

Tell me if anyone want one with a character in particular (hc / one shot...)

Bllk ver.

m.list | rules

Rindou

Acts sarcastic around her all the time

Fake being interested then stop listening and ignore her

"Is that so ?" With a eyebrow lift and his face unbothered

He wants her to feel bad and like shit, seek attention she'll never have because he's more busy with anything else than her

He wants to feel 10 time worse than what she tried to make you feel

He's mean about it, giving her false hopes

But he never hides it from you, you know it all and honestly you're the one feeling bad for her

He has to remind you himself the shitty friend she is and that she deserves it

Ran

He's not that mean, he knows you like her dearly and does his best to not sighs when she talks

No needs to say that from the start he doesn't really like her

But when she starts talking shit about you behind your back, with him around ? He really got that she was on another planet

It got worse when she speaks to him directly, how she put herself above you, with a fake empathic smile

"Weird way to flirt with a taken guy, talking shit about his girlfriend"

He sounds unbothered but his eyes are cold while he drinks

He probably drink it in one shot and move back to you and tells you

Wakasa

Younger Wakasa would've probably killed her on spot

Older him is more composed, but not without thinking the same

He feels you tensed when she starts speaking about your common dance class, his arm tighten around your shoulders, as if he was asking what's up

His eyes turn cold when she ask him how bad you were at it after he came once

"Excuse me ?"

She sits up straight and, sadly, couldn't turn her gaze away from her when she wishes she had

"I think you're the only one remembering it that way."

He's not joking around when it comes to you, and she for sure regretting it when everyone stopped listening to her around the table

Chifuyu

He's silly and kind, it's good to be around him you get that and all your friends feel safe around him for this reason

But you never expect to one of them to turned it against you when he's just nice and making sure they're safe

You're choked the first time you heard her talking like this about you while you were go for a few minutes, with him sitting next to her

"I've never noticed though, I have no idea what you're talking about"

He plays dumb but you can tell in his voice is not joking around anymore

She's doesn't insist when you came back, but he makes sure to mention it so you can defend yourself

And when everyone take your side you felt slightly better, even more with him taking your defense without hesitation

Mikey

That's the worst idea anyone can have

Mikey thinks so highly about you, maybe a bit too much but that makes him your number one supporter

Looking down on you to try to win him over is the dumbest thing to do

He's quick to react, the second she pushed you down to her up, his eyes are on her and he's moving closer

"Talk shit about my gf one more time, I dare you"

He doesn't do anything else, doesn't touch her but that's because he respects woman and don't fight people who can't defend themselves

Or else he would've hit her in the face

"Get out while I'm still being friendly"

No need to say you never heard of her again

[shehungers]

SIMULACRA

frankenstein creature x reader | 18+ | 2.6k

your father is a secretive man, and a brilliant mind always locked away downstairs in the basement. he enlists the help of thief to bring things to him, and who you eventually fall in love with. one day, the thief goes missing and you gain access to the basement to unveil the dark truth below.

story warnings; dead dove do not eat; graphic + grotesque details, body horror, sexual details, implications of: grave robbing, incestuous leanings (father to you), voyeurism, you basically kiss a corpse lmao, murder.

reposted from deleted blog: theoxenfree

please consider leaving feedback + reblogging!!

Father had hired a thief to steal many small and many large things for him over the course of a year. All things he refused to confide in anyone else about but for the thief. In exchange for the labor of the thief’s expertise, Father offered him the skeleton key for which to open every room in the house, including your own.

By the end of the first month, the thief knew the whereabouts of every item in your family home, whose footsteps sounded rhythmic, and at what time every night your father would descend to the basement when madness overtook him.

“He is a strange man. He asks me to find many strange things for him. Some of those things even I feel guilty for stealing,” said the thief, having woken you in the middle of the night to fix him a warm beverage. As part of compensation for his stay, you were told to care for him just as you would a revered guest. “He must actually be mad. There is no other explanation.”

You did as you were supposed to, fixed the thief warm milk and carried over a plate of dry biscuits to bloat his stomach. All of this, you hoped, would wear him out so you could return to bed.

“Father is a studied man. He was a doctor in town, once,” you told him, wiping crumbs off the table with the flat side of your hand. “He was one for a long time, I think. I don't actually know. He says Mother died trying to give birth to me, so he removed me from her womb himself and there was no saving her. It's always just been the two of us here, and a few servants to keep up the house.”

“It's strange to me, then, how a man of medicine and healing is so invested in the things that he is.” The thief always ate and drank steadily as though deprived of sustenance, despite all your efforts to feed him better than yourself. You continued shifting crumbs across the table, off the edge onto your apron, thinking that men of his nature really knew no manners at all.

“He used to be a surgeon,” was enough to put that part of the conversation to rest. He finished his midnight meal and handed his empty cup off to you to wash at the sink. “What do you see when you're downstairs? He always deadbolts it so I cannot get inside, even with that key he gave you.”

The thief took the lantern from the table over to you, illuminating the space in cold orange flickers and distended shadows moving erratically across the walls. You didn't look away from your task, but you could feel his nearness to you—the warmth of him and his breath almost touching the side of your neck.

“Interesting!” He smiled handsomely; a good, even a smile that didn't show too much of his mouth, too many teeth, too much eagerness. “And how long have you been trying to weasel your way into his personal space downstairs?”

“Long enough,” you assured, wiping the cup dry before giving him your full attention. “Just tell me what you've seen! The old bastard is selfish and won't tell me a thing! What's happening in my own home? I think I deserve to know.”

His hand let down the lantern, resting it on the countertop, and then stroked your face with the peaks of his knuckles. Compared to everything else he touched: rotted wood coffins splintering and softening in his grip, chiseled stone doors leading into tombs shared by generations of inbred aristocrats laid side by side forever, delicate heirlooms, porous and misshapen bones still wet with meat and decay; you were the softest, and the most pleasant thing he'd ever felt.

“Actually,” said the thief, now holding you behind the jaw and in your hair with both his hands, “I don't think you deserve to know. I mean that in the best way possible because I don't want you to know what goes on down there. I don't want you to see what I've seen. Forget it and come upstairs with me.”

The house had settled into deep silence, a sort of stillness a lot like holding a breath in anticipation. You knew it was partially your own fault for that because you weren't sure you'd taken a single breath as he led you back to your room, bolted the door, and kissed you.

Father believed you were different from the rest of the young adults in town. Thought you so much greater than them that he'd never entertained the idea you'd ever want a friend, a lover, to be touched and ravished by someone as that sort of thinking aligned with the licentious townsfolk and nobles partaking in opioid induced orgies.

“Get on your stomach.” The thief shucked your bodies bare of clothes and pressed you down into the bed how he wanted before pushing his cock into you, pacing his thrusts and depth to start before fucking you down into the mattress.

It hurt. It felt good. It was humiliating being fucked like a beast, but you loved how he lost himself in the act and bit and bruised you, moaned and grunted in your ears. He was vile in the way he confessed his lifetime of sins to you, whispering against your skin as though you were the priest, the confessional, and the God who would lead him to absolution.

He really only became himself again after he finished inside of you, cock soft, his words even softer and lavishing. Whether or not he meant what he said didn't matter, because you were in love with him.

Your life continued on that way almost every night for the better part of a year. Seeking the deepest and most sacred parts of one another—yours from the desire to know him and to be known, his to pour out his sorrows, beg forgiveness, seek vengeance through thunderclaps of stinging skin that turned your eye whites bright red and appalled your waking thoughts with vicious, awful words.

But then, one morning, Father said the thief had left early, just as the sun rose and basked the valley in golden dewdrops and velvety mist, and never planned to return.

“How can that be!” you spent most of the day afterwards wretched, filling various rooms of the house with nauseating weeps and bitter resentment. “He wouldn't just leave me! I love him! He loves me! I know him better than that.”

“Oh,” sighed Father, looking somehow haggard and anxious like a hare circled by airborne hawks. You noticed the way his eyes couldn't stay put, roamed over a space again and again as though concerned anything might change without him realizing. He was particularly fixated on the door leading down into the basement. “You stupid child. A man like that could never love you! A man like that only knows thievery! He steals things! He steals people. He'd steal you away if he had the chance. Only I know how to love you!”

“I am not a child! I haven't been a child for a long time,” you said. “You don't know anything about love. The only thing you've ever loved is your work.”

Father restrained himself in the end, looked at you equally grievous and as though he had something else to say, but felt it was a useless argument in the end. He found his wool coat by the doorway, tugged the sleeves up his arms, and said he was leaving for the nearby village to find a new thief to replace the one who had left—your beloved thief.

Hours later, he had returned home in a renewed good spirits despite no success finding someone else to take up all the same tasks the last thief had. The aged wine he drank weighed his breath, stank up the house en route to his bedroom with sour fermentation, the sweetness of grapes.

You only emerged from your quarters once his snores tore through the walls, seemed to leach into the slabs underfoot and vibrate up against your toes as you padded across them, down the stairs, and deeper down still when you discovered Father had left the basement door unbolted in his anger earlier.

To disguise this betrayal, you tried to simulate his typical circumspection by closing the door fully after you, hearing the grind of metal as you slid the latch into place to secure it from the inside, and careened further into the depths without a light, guided only by your excitement and resolve to unveil what was always hidden from you.

“What in the world?” you asked no one, just the vast space of the basement and all of the strange things within it. The air smelled thickly of coins and rust, making your tongue salivate as if taking a mouthful of soil and copper into your mouth. It was a damp sort of scent, like being entrapped by lingering humidity after a summer storm.

The further you wandered, the odder the tabletops of implements you saw. Clear glass vessels of all sorts: flasks, beakers, tubes with dried substances inside. Piles of medical texts, some of infections and pathology; most specific to anatomy and physiology. You fluttered through the pages of one tome which seemed to exclusively discuss the organic components that made up different layers of skin and fat.

Onward still, deeper inside the basement, there were sealed vats emanating particularly repugnant odors. Some so strong you couldn't bring yourself closer than twenty feet of them without the need to turn, vomit into a crevice in the ground, and widen the distance more.

Last were the tables, some built solidly out of teakwood, others shabby metal—all of them mysteriously dark and stained—

Just then came a jutting sound, sharp and metallic, feet away from where you stood on another table you'd yet to reach. For some reason, you hadn't noticed this one right away despite there being quite a sizable mass sprawled across it, restrained.

It was human-shaped, broad-shouldered and sinewy. Even from where you stood, you believed you could see the striations arms as it struggled against thick cuffs at the wrists. You thought it looked simultaneously enormous, yet entirely malnourished, off in proportions with a complexion gray as any ash left behind after a bonfire.

“Are…” you spoke, it lurched against its restraints and made you jump. “Are you—are you alright? Who are you?!”

Suddenly, the creature’s limbs went soft, relenting to the sound of your voice as if in recognition and instead of trying to break its shackles, it tried reaching out towards you. For a moment, you considered humoring the poor thing, alleviating it of whatever loneliness it has experienced while down in this bleak, vile location.

You got close enough to finally see upon every minutiae detail, and the horrible thing was that everything deserved thorough inspection.

“What in God's name are you?!” you whimpered and scoffed in disgust, seeing the patchwork of its body with sheets of many different skins, all some variance of color, though all entirely gray and dead. His appendages were adhered at each joint with staples, sewn with the thickest black cord you'd ever seen and coated with blood and pieces of human meat.

No part of this creature looked to be made of any single human—any one man—but an amalgam of tautly stretched, cleverly tucked pieces of many. Even his genitalia were a construction of several parts.

The creature stayed calm in your presence, repeatedly raising, lowering his head onto the hard metal to better see you. The innermost of his lips were blackened purple and he parted them with enormous effort, eventually giving you a view of his pristinely aligned teeth and tongueless mouth.

“You can't speak—oh my god. You can't speak. Where's your tongue? What are you? What are you?” but, the answer was that he was many different men. The better question was whose brain was seeing you through mismatched brown and blue eyes?

The longer he stared at you and you stared at him, witnessed his hideously lovely face cycle through a pattern of confusion to familiarity—a demented soul constantly finding miniscule pockets in coherency—the horror struck you more than the gladness and overflow of love making your hands shake.

“My—my beloved!” you said huskily, shy of bursting into tears and collapsing on top of him. Your trembling fingers felt his glacial skin, how utterly dead and stiff it was, but you didn't care. “My father did this to you?! He took your brain? He put you into this monstrosity?! But, why?”

The creature’s mouth couldn't answer, but the thief’s brain, in those brief flickers of remembrance, wanted to reveal that your father was a pervert—had witnessed him bed you for months on end before something snapped, something inside him changed and he could no longer bear the idea you loved another more than him.

That you might run away. Leave.

The thief had been cleaved alive, different parts of him not yet used stored in the vats scattered throughout the basement. His brain was brilliant, it was why he was such a remarkable thief, made him the ideal candidate to finally bring a sentient homunculus to fruition.

It worked. Your father had created something neither dead, nor alive, nor entirely human, nor thoughtless beast.

“Oh, my love,” you kissed his cold, unmoving lips and then searched your pockets for the skeleton key you'd kept hidden from your father. “Forgive him. Forgive that terrible man for what he's done. I fear he's been unwell for a long time now. A very long time. He is not right.”

But, the thief’s brain was not so kind, nor was any other part he was made up of. He only existed in agony and hatred and faint fondness when he saw your face.

Against all odds, the skeleton key fit and soon he was free of the restraints. They struck the metal tabletop heavily and with a stinging clatter, resonating through your mind in an echo that shook you with dread and despair—the foreboding of some grave consequence soon to come that you did not yet understand.

He sat astride the table for a moment, doing little besides testing his range of move, the entire width that he could spread his arms, flexed his fingers and toes, felt all the different regions of himself and all the different men he now was. And, once he was ready to get off the table, his gait listed right a little bit onto his weaker leg.

“Please, my love, let's just leave,” you told him, curling yourself around one of his arms as he lumbered towards the staircase leading back up. “Let that man be! Let him rot all his own without us here! We can still be together, and I still love you.”

Perhaps, in what remained of his psyche, he loved you too, but could no longer understand what a dream was nor the true complexities of longing.

What he could understand was that you'd never stop trying to thwart him, so once on the second floor where the bedrooms were swallowed in black static silence, he shoved you into yours and jammed the door so you couldn't get out.

At first, your father didn't drunkenly stir awake to the sound of your voice calling out hysterically from your room, fists pounding against the wall directly above his bed. It was only when the creature had grabbed him around his head with massive hands, squeezing him like a tightening belt, thumb pads pressing into his eyes that he was truly awake.

The agonized screams of your father were only dampened by your screams of terror from the other side of the wall.

[dwobbitfromtheshire]

Eddie tiptoed into his bedroom and pressed a finger to his lips. Chrissy was fast asleep, curled up on the other side of the bed.

"Are you sure she'll be okay with this?" Steve asked.

"Of course, your parents are home. Chrissy understands that more than anyone. Why do you think she's here so much?" Eddie whispered.

"Because she's your girlfriend, and she likes spending time with you?" Steve asked.

"Well, that, too," Eddie grinned. "According to her, it's a thousand times better here than her house."

"I agree," he whispered.

"Thank God, we have a house now instead of that tiny ass trailer. Doubt we could have fit all of us," Eddie said.

Eddie slid into the bed behind Chrissy and patted the empty spot next to him. Steve crawled in behind him and let Eddie throw the covers over them.

"Goodnight, and thank you for letting me stay here," Steve said.

"Anytime, big boy," Eddie said.

It was early in the morning when Chrissy woke before anyone else. She smiled at Eddie, his face pressed to the pillow. She always loved watching him sleep. His arm was thrown over her, and she touched it, her hand trailing upward until it came into contact with the arm that was wrapped around Eddie. Chrissy frowned. That was NOT her arm. She looked over Eddie and found Steve sleeping on the other side of him. She grinned and tapped Eddie's face. He woke up and smiled.

"Hey, gorgeous," Eddie said.

"Steve is sleeping in our bed," Chrissy said.

"Oh, uh, yeah, his parents are home, and he didn't have anywhere else to go," Eddie whispered.

"Good call," Chrissy smiled.

"Chrissy. . .," Eddie trailed off and paused.

"What is it?" She asked.

"Can we keep him?" He asked, his big brown eyes wider than ever before. "Pleeasse?"

Chrissy couldn't stop the laugh that escaped her. He was just too damn cute. They both were. Steve snorted awake and glanced at Chrissy.

"Oh, good morning," Steve said, his cheeks turning red.

"I have to go to the bathroom," she said.

She leaned forward and gave Eddie a kiss on the lips before doing the same with Steve. She went into Eddie's ensuite bathroom, closing the door behind her.

"Does that mean we can keep him?!" Eddie yelled.

"Yeah!" She yelled back. "But he's not a dog, Eddie!"

"Tell that to his fucking eyes, babe," Eddie said and she giggled.

"You want to keep me?" Steve asked in soft voice.

Chrissy washed her hands and hopped out of the bathroom. She jumped onto the bed and straddled Steve’s hips.

"We're definitely keeping you," Chrissy said.

She started placing kisses all over his face. Eddie cackled gleefully and joined in, causing Steve to giggle. After showering him with kisses, Chrissy snuggled in between her two men, ready to get some more sleep. It was still rather early.

The next time Chrissy and Eddie woke up, it was to the smell of bacon. Steve was no longer in the bed with them. They quickly scrambled out of bed and went to the kitchen where Steve was cooking breakfast. Wayne was sitting at the table, sipping a cup of coffee and reading a gardening magazine.

"Is Steve planning on moving in, too?" Wayne asked.

"Moving in?" Eddie and Chrissy asked.

"Darling, when was the last time you were at your parents' house?" Wayne asked Chrissy.

"Oh. . .well, I guess it's been a while," Chrissy said with a frown.

"I was gonna tell you," Wayne said and put down the magazine. "The other day, your parents came back and dropped off a box with the rest of your stuff. I just didn't know how to break it to you, that they didn't want to see you."

"Oh. . .that's okay, Wayne," Chrissy said and paused. "I'm actually relieved. I didn't want to see them either. I know now where I'm actually wanted. I just hope you don't have a problem with it."

"Not all, sweetheart, you're definitely wanted around here," Wayne said. "Steve, too. We got plenty of room now to figure it all out."

"Look at you, Uncle Wayne," Eddie grinned. "At least I know where I get my whole collecting lost sheep thing from."

"Did he just call us sheep?" Steve asked.

"It's a compliment, sheep are cute," Chrissy said.

"They are fluffy," Steve grinned and ran a hand through his hair.

Chrissy moved over and hugged Wayne before kissing his cheek.

"Thank you, Wayne," she said.

"You and Steve make my boy here very happy," Wayne said. "You're both great kids. I'm happy to have you guys here."

Eddie placed an obnoxiously loud kiss right on Wayne's bald spot.

"You old softie," Eddie said.

He gestured for Chrissy to sit down at the table, and then he fixed them both a cup before joining his uncle.

"Admit it, Wayne," Steve said with a grin. "You just want me and Chrissy around because we both know how to cook."

"Aw, hell, you got me," Wayne said sarcastically.

"I knew it," Steve said seriously.

They all laughed as Steve handed out plates, and they settled down to a nice breakfast. Eddie and Chrissy kissed him both, thanking Steve for the delicious meal. Steve gave a crooked smile, blushing as they all ate in a comfortable silence. After breakfast, Wayne insisted on cleaning up, putting his foot down when Chrissy tried to help. He kissed all three of his kids' foreheads and ushered them out of the house so they could enjoy the morning. It was a completely different porch, nice and wide, but Eddie still insisted on keeping a couch out there. It was a nice idea, Chrissy thought as she curled up on the couch with them, and they all drank their second cup of coffee.

"This is nice," Steve said as he breathed in the fresh air and the other two hummed in agreement.

They watched the house across from them. Max insisted on still being across the Munsons, claiming them to be alright neighbors. It was high praise coming from her. Max's bedroom window opened, and a figure came tumbling out. It was Lucas. Eddie and Steve shared a look. No surprise there. Although, they both knew they weren't doing anything other than kissing and sleeping. . .at least Chrissy hoped not yet. The next figure that came out wasn't that much of a surprise either, considering that El was Max's best friend. Max leaned out the window and gave Lucas a goodbye kiss. Their eyebrows rose when she did the same with El.

"You know you could have used the door," Max's voice was heard from across the small road.

"It was more fun this way," El said.

"Totally," Lucas grinned.

"Dorks," she said affectionately.

Lucas and El took each other's hands before walking over to their bikes parked in front of Max's house. Max was watching them when her eyes caught Chrissy's, Eddie's, and Steve's. She froze. El and Lucas caught a glimpse of them as well. They couldn't help but freeze along with Max. Chrissy smiled. She enter laced her fingers with Steve and Eddie's before holding them up, letting them know they were safe. They breathed a sigh of relief. Max moved back inside while the other two rode off on their bikes, waving.

"Looks like we're not the only ones starting something new," Steve grinned.

Chrissy beamed as a bird fluttered by, singing as the sun shone down upon them. It was certainly a beautiful morning. They deserved this. Happiness. Love. Not a dark cloud in sight.

[radioiaci]

The potential for ruin was always there. For both of them. Vox could just as easily out him for this arrangement; for Alastor's deal with the Queen. Both would carry consequences, but primarily the latter. Lilith would not abide by some other overlord spoiling her plans; her secrets. And though he assumed she would not let Vox get away with it unscathed, it was he who would bear the brunt of her wrath. And either be made to suffer or simply be snuffed out entirely.

He was trusting Vox with quite a bit by permitting him to keep that knowledge. (Though what other recourse did he really have...?)

Alastor did not mind the reignition of the kiss, his own sounds reaching the back of his throat, pressed tightly against Vox as he was pulled. Vox was not the only greedy one, his claws reaching to cling to the other's body with an unrelenting hold and eyes hazy with some sort of desire as that hand grasped at his face - against those marks that Vox had left with his claws that Alastor had refused to rid himself of.

The only scars of his that he did not detest.

And he felt that possession, his tail giving a few happy sways from side to side. Wanted to be wanted. Wanted to be possessed by someone other than his benefactor. Wanted to place his life; his soul in someone else's hands. Someone who he trusted.

Someone who he loved.

Alastor nudged his forehead gently against the other's screen in a comparatively soft display before they pulled apart for the time, finally releasing his grasp on Vox as he strode away. He did not fear Vox's power - though it had been some time since he'd seen it. He recalled, however haphazardly, how it had effectively electrocuted him to death at least once.

Better him than anyone else, he now thought.

Settling on the other side of the room, the intensity of his gaze was palpable as he watched, eyes flitting between the detestable stain upon the wood and up towards the one who would help him erase it forever.

Vox stood there panting, his face hovering just off the other’s, he felt the shift. The gravity and the intensity somehow getting stronger. Like he was being invited to climb into the other’s ribcage and reside there with the other. His own head felt fuzzy- almost drugged. Somewhere he concocted a fragmented thought that this must be some of the potential of their newly discovered channelled connection. The one way stream of delivering sentiments straight into his brain. Somehow. TV’s built off of radio’s.. something of the sort.. another blip of a thought was made of fear. Bright and jagged and wrestling in the brief moment of realization it existed in. This could be used against him. This could ruin him. This could.. but then it blinked out, easily washed away by more of the same glowing hungry aching desire for- for- something.

He couldn’t fathom letting go of the other. The grip he had on Alastor’s arm and his side.

After barely a moment long enough to even start to clear the haze, they were back into the frenzied kissing. Vox groaned into the other’s mouth. Reaching for him and for more and more. He wasn’t in hell for greed but he would have fit the bill just as well.

Vox’s hand fit over Alastor’s jaw, holding the scars just right and pulling him closer to share the air.

The moment paused again.

Oh yes.. the arson.

Vox swallowed thickly. Trying to focus on something that wasn’t the stupid radio in front of him. His radio. Not lilith’s.

Alastor would feel the potent swell of possession. Of agitated protectiveness. But it dulled as soon as it crested, just simmering instead.

“Right..” Vox said hoarsely. “Step away..”

The tv didn’t totally look stable for a second. Like in his weaker state from before, the torrential winds of influence Alastor could create were blowing right through his own brain like wind through cheesecloth.

The bright magenta pink eyes blinked off the worst of it though. Taking his own step back so as not to have a repeat of their first meeting.

[grammarpedant]

Crashes in here, hi this is my main blog and I just saw the tags you left on my art of Miki and the CombatBot and I'm going just a little insane over them. I've been thinking of a fic from Miki's POV for Rogue Protocol for a while and while I don't think I have the skill to pull that off I am SO EXCITED to see that someone else has had the same thought!!! Urg... I just love Miki so so much and seeing how the events unfold from its POV would be so interesting.

I think I gotta go draw Miki some more now hehe. Good luck with writing!!

(the Miki art in question)

Hehe, right? Miki is SUCH a character full of so many hidden depths and surprises, greatest of all is that it's also exactly what it looks like on the surface, in full sincerity: a sweet, kind person of a bot that cared very deeply about its friends and wanted to be able to count Murderbot among them. It also deliberately obfuscates the truth from Murderbot and from Don Abene alike on multiple occasions, it seems to sense what MB means and feels through the feed almost better than MB itself, it's a science bot with visual magnification abilities beyond MB's, when it's stressed and pressed for time it stops trying to talk like a human and goes back to its native code language; Miki has in-jokes with its human friends, but I never had a friend like me. And that's just random stuff I pulled from skimming the book looking for something else! Miki is just such a fascinating character!!

And in this fandom we just LOVE our outsider POVs, haha. I'm sure others have done or tried to do Miki POV of the book before, but I'm gonna use this moment as an opportunity to gush about the thing I want to write- I left the tags that I did because what came to me first was the bit leading up to the same scene you've depicted, the tragic beauty of Miki choosing the trajectory that it did. I have a heartwrenching final scene of Miki's POV in those moments that I absolutely cannot show anyone, not least because the scene simply will not hit as hard as it could unless I actually lay the groundwork that would give it a real punch.

Miki would be about (is about) self-determination, right, obviously. But the Miki POV I want to write would also be about a character caught between connection and alienation, a bot among humans and all that entails. —People love and protect Miki, yes, but do they understand it? Don Abene loved it, and Miki loved her too, and what about all the times they struggled to understand each other? The work that it takes to overcome miscommunication? How does Miki feel, knowing that there are some experiences it just cannot share with its human friends, nor they with it? Do they understand each other regardless? Does anybody ever really understand another person? —Miki has a way of talking that's a little clipped and which may seem "childish" to a reader at first glance; given that in times of stress it defaults back to a nonverbal-to-humans mode of bot communication, might we draw parallels between it and the semiverbal disabled experience? —For perhaps the first time in its life Miki met someone who could understand it reflexively, instinctively, empathize with its machinic experiences almost effortlessly. How does it understand this person's refusal to accept the vulnerability of connection? Does Miki understand Murderbot, and if so how much? In what ways?

Those are the themes I'd want to pull at, and to do so I'd use the motifs of Miki's scientific research function. Its literal ability to perceive the world differently from both humans and from MB, its framing of the world through numbers and measurement and factoids and analysis that is nevertheless beautiful to it, even when it struggles to put that beauty to human words. Names. Identity. Choice and free will. Emotion and connection. What Miki was thinking when it looked at MB's camera at the nebula storm and said, Pretty! The jokes and media and little moments it shares with Don Abene. The love and happiness that made it so secure in itself. If I could just get through the groundwork of it all... it would be beautiful. At least as beautiful as the art you drew.

Anyway, I hope you keep drawing Miki, friend! The art you did has already inspired me a bit more 🥰

[blackcoldcrackedheart]

Part 1 one in where Buck and Sal face off because Buck caught Sal and Tommy on a "date" here

Buck patted his face dry with his towel, wincing a bit as he absentmindedly touched his lip. The cut wasn’t too obvious, and Buck felt a bit smug that besides that and a slightly bruised eye he had come out unscathed.

He couldn’t say the same about that dick head though.

Granted he was suspended for three days and he figured in the long run, it might have not been worth it.

But God, it felt to sock the guy.

He threw the towel down on the bathroom counter, smirking again when he saw his reflection as he left the bathroom to get himself a cup of coffee.

Three days suspended without pay started today, he wasn’t gonna apologize to the guy.

Obviously.

Buck wasn’t sure what he would do today, besides maybe go the gym when he heard a knock at his door.

He knew it wouldn’t be Eddie or Bobby since they were both on shift still. Maddie had work, so it definitely wouldn’t be her.

He opened the door, mentally prepared for whomever it was. Especially if it was anyone from the 118.

Buck felt himself freeze as he finally registered who he opened the door for. Wearing a worn hoodie, ripped jeans, and dark and gloomy glare was Tommy.

“We need to talk.” The older man told him firmly, walking into Buck’s place uninvited but Buck was almost itching for another reason to get upset now.

“What?” Buck scoffed, not too gently closing the door behind him, “Came over here because you think I’m gonna apologize to your boyfriend?” he asked, knowing that he might have sounded petulant- but he didn’t care.

He was hurting.

So sue him.

Tommy shook his head, sighing as his shoulders slumped as though Buck had zapped the energy out of him. He looked ragged as he scrubbed his face, “He’s not my boyfriend, Buck.”

That had Buck wincing, hearing Tommy say his nickname sounded so unnatural and cold.

“Could have fooled me.”

“What do you mean?” Tommy frowned, looking rightfully confused as he stared at Buck imploringly. “Buck, Sal is my friend.”

“Oh yeah.” Buck let out a deprecating laugh, walking over to his kitchen and hoping the kitchen island could become a buffer for him, “You two definitely looked friendly at Escondite.” Buck hissed, remembering seeing Sal touch Tommy already him shaking. He could feel the adrenaline mix with his anger and sadness, he could barely look at Tommy as he sniffed. “I saw you there with him.”

He noticed Tommy’s demeanor shift, softening and worried as he stepped closer to Buck.

“Buck-”

“Listen,” Buck cut off him roughly, sniffing again and avoiding Tommy’s eye contact, “I get it- I-I pushed you or you-you probably thought I was just looking to experiment with you or something.” He sniped, hating out his teeth were grinding against each other as he got the words out. “Maybe-maybe I’m inexperienced compared to you, but him? Tommy, that guy?” he snorted. “I know it probably means nothing from me, but even you could do better than that guy.” He quickly wiped away a few stray tears, “You-You broke up with me and I get it.” He had to repeat it, more for his sanity than for anything else, “But I-I did love you and I know  I love you better than that d-bag.”

Buck refused to look at him, he didn’t want to break. His anger was already ebbing away into sadness.

“So you punched him? Because you thought he and I were dating?” Tommy asked, his voice was rough enough that it made Buck almost break.

“Yeah.” Buck admitted, not feeling an ounce bad for it, “So go ahead.” Buck took a deep breath in and finally looked up, “Yell at me or whatever you want, I don’t care.”

-

“Structure has been deemed as unsecured.” Deluca shouted over the radio. “We need all remaining firefighters to exit now.”

“You heard the man, let’s get out of here.” Eddie shouted over the flames, they had assisted in getting anyone stuck on the upper floors. They were successful for the most part, all survivors with vary degrees of injuries, but none were fatal.

But Buck could tell the place was falling apart, the fires only seemed to be spreading as the team tried to put the fire externally.

Buck was following Eddie when the radio crackled to life again, “Eddie, Buck, one of the survivors is telling us we missed someone. Forth floor, a man named Nigel Osaki.” Hen radioed through, before either men had a chance to respond Deluca’s voice cut in.

“Negate the request to look for anyone else, you two need to leave the building now.” Deluca ordered.

Buck and Eddie turned to look at each other, confused and mildly annoyed. Buck’s hatred for the guy already was tenfold as he responded back, “You want to leave a worker here?” Buck asked for clarification.

“Do I need to explain that in another language Buckley? Yes. You and Diaz need to leave, the building isn’t gonna be standing for too long.”

Despite wearing a breathing apparatus, Buck could already tell Eddie was giving him a “don’t start shit” look. “We’re not just gonna leave a person in this hell hole, Deluca.”

“Buckley, I don’t care! Get your ass down here, along with Diaz now!” Deluca yelled back. Buck turned off his radio, clenching his jaw as he yelled out “Screw this.” and gunned it back to the hallway.

“Buck!” Eddie yelled, “Where the hell are you going?”

“I’m going to find the last person hopefully. Get out of here Eddie!” Buck warned as he went to find the remaining person. He gave one last look back to see Eddie gun it before seeing a side of the wall collapse.

He really didn’t have a lot of time left.

“LAFD, CALL OUT!” Buck yelled, kicking down all the doors in the hallway, thankful that most of the rooms still hadn’t caught fight just yet. But the smoke had traveled through the vents, making a flume of dark smoke pour out, there wasn’t much point fanning the smoke away but Buck did so anyway as he continued to yell out.

He was sure if he had turned his radio back on Deluca would be cussing him out. He was ready to turn around and catch up with Eddie when he heard it.

A raspy call for help.

Buck kicked down two more doors when he saw it, a man trying to break through the window with no luck.

“Mr. Osaki?!” Buck yelled, causing the older man to jump.

“Yes! Yes!” The man coughed, pulling his badge to prove he was Osaki. “Thank you! Thank you!”

Buck quickly appraised him, the guy seemed to be standing well but he was having trouble breathing through the heavy smoke. “Let’s go!” Buck ordered, pulling Osaki close to him and giving him his breathing mask. “Let’s move it!” he yelled, startling the older man to rush along side Buck as they opted to leave through the other stair well once they realized the way Buck had originally came through was now blocked by the fire and debris from the ceiling.

Rushing down four flights of stairs during a fire wasn’t easy but nearly twenty minutes later, Buck and Osaki were out of the building, running to get to where the others were on standby and triaging survivors.

“Buck!” Eddie and Hen were the first ones to run up to him, Buck easily passed the older man into their care, accepting a sorrowful “Thank you.” From Osaki before he was led to the ambulance by Eddie and Hen.

“Are you okay?” Chimney asked, patting Buck on the shoulder as Buck tried to catch his breath.

“Yeah,” he gulped the fresh air into his lungs, “I-I think so.” He huffed, laughing to himself and feeling victorious in the most petty way.

“Well good.” Chimney declared, his façade dropping as he nodded towards something that was behind Buck. Or rather, someone. “Because brace yourself.” Chimney warned right when Deluca (and Bobby) reached them.

“The fuck is the matter with you Buckley?!” Deluca yelled, his blue eyes in slits as he got into Buck’s personal space. Not directly in his face, but too close for Buck’s liking. “I gave you direct orders to evacuate!”

Buck felt a sliver of thrill and satisfaction when the half snort/scoff he let out caused Deluca to bristle visibly. “And I ignored them.” Buck sniffed, “You think I was gonna let some guy die on my watch.”

“That wasn’t your call to make!” Deluca yelled, he pointed in the vague direction of where Eddie was  (who was half watching Deluca and Buck and half helping Hen treat patients), “You ditched your teammate and you deliberately disobeyed my commands!”

“Well Eddie is a big boy, he got out just fine, And so did the last vic, no thanks to you.” Buck knew his voice was getting rougher and louder with every word.

“Buck.” Bobby warned, “You need to pullback.” he stepped between the two men, trying to separate them as Chimney agreed.

“Yeah, everyone left unscathed. We didn’t lose anyone. A win is a win, right?” Chimney tried to add supportively, only to be met with scathing glances by Buck and Deluca.

Deluca stepped back, but he looked disgusted still as he told Bobby, “This how you run your team, Nash?” he asked indignantly, “Your boy might have saved the last vic, but he could have put that vic, himself, and Diaz in trouble with his stupidity.” He shoved a finger into Bobby’s chest, “And you call yourself a captain.”

Buck felt his temper flare.

So not only was Tommy dating a prick who happened to be a LAFD captain of all things, but the guy was also a douch to Bobby? What the hell did Tommy even see in this guy? Buck knew he wasn’t God’s gift to anyone, but he was miles ahead of this asshole in everything.

‘Screw this.’ Buck thought, “At least he gives a damn about saving people.” Buck spoke up, the edge in his voice never wavering. “And he’s not an asshole going on a power trip unlike some untalented captain who wants to win a pissing contest by letting innocent people die on his watch.”

Bobby, again, tried to get in between the two men but Deluca side stepped him. “You think you’re such a wise ass, Buckley. But one of these days your dumbass is gonna get you and your teammates killed.” Deluca warned, his finger in Buck’s face. “Any captain would have fired you for that stunt.”

“Any captain with common sense would make sure everyone gets saved. Not my fault you suck at your job!”

“Yeah? I was a firefighter when you were probably just discovering how your dick works.” Deluca hissed, “When you actually get experience as a firefighter twenty years in, then you talk to me till then, keep sucking up to Nash like the lost little boy you are.” He spat.

That was the last fucking straw.

That damn dismissal as though he wasn’t worthy of being a firefighter after everything he went through FOR the 118.

Buck chucked his helmet and tackled Deluca to the ground, he barely heard anyone yell as he delivered two blows to Deluca’s face.

He felt something catch his arm, causing him to pause and then he felt a hit to his lip- barely there, but the second hit to his cheek set him off. He wretched his arm back and socked Deluca in the face again before feeling he was being physically reeled back.

“BUCKLEY, ENOUGH!”

(Hen’s faltered a bit, trying to put on clean gloves so she could treat Deluca’s bloody nose and what had to be a dislocated jaw. “Did Buck just fight?” She asked in shock, much to her chagrin Eddie looked delighted. “Oh thank God, he can actually fight.” She rolled eyes as Eddie continued, “What? I was worried he couldn’t throw a punch!”)

-

Tommy was right across from him now, leaning towards the island enough that Buck felt his strength chip away as the urge to touch Tommy got stronger. “We aren’t dating, Buck. We never were.” Tommy stressed, “Sal is an old friend of mine from the 118.”

Buck raised a brow at that, he knew from Hen and Chim later that that was true. But he figured Tommy was the only one from the “ol’ boys” club that broke away and became friends with Hen and Chim and all the new transfers and probies. They had filled him in about Sal, giving him the cliff note versions of Sal’s time at the 118.

(Buck didn’t feel bad at all for decking the guy still.)

“You said you stopped being friends with any of those guys.” Buck was resolute now, crossing his arms. He never pressed Tommy about his time during Gerrard’s reign since Tommy was so visibly uncomfortable talking about it.

“I did stop talking to them. Specifically Sal since when I came out to him he didn’t take it well.” Tommy explained, he looked uncomfortable now.

“So what was that at Escondite then?”

Tommy sighed, chuckling a bit as he confessed, “He called me because his daughter came out to him.”

“What?”

“Yeah,” Tommy continued, a small smile as he saw watched the realization dawn onto Buck, “He has a daughter, Joanna, she’s 14 and bisexual. I hadn’t spoken to the man in years but I guess with his kid coming out to him he decided to make amends for the way he acted when I came out to him.”

Buck paused, “So you where…?”

“Catching up with the guy after he apologized for what he said and did to me.” Tommy clarified, finally looking at Buck now. “He mostly did it so he could prove to his daughter that he isn’t a homophobe like she thought he was, but he was sincere.” Tommy shrugged, shaking his head as he recalled the call from Sal. “We were catching up that night when you saw us at Escondite.”

Buck thought about it, something still wasn’t right though.

He frowned as remembered how touchy Sal was. “Didn’t seem like just catching up.” Buck accused, “He seemed pretty handsy towards you.”

Tommy stayed quiet for a moment, seemingly recalling that night but then his expression softened. He looked uncomfortable again.

“Not for the reason you think.” Tommy confessed, his voice strained and body tensing as he seemed to waver on the spot. Clearly unsure about wanting to stay or go yet. “I-I told him about you….About breaking up with you and still not being over you.”

Buck felt his heart skip a beat.

“You-wha-?”

Tommy gulp was audible, he was averting his gaze now, speaking but avoiding looking at Buck as though that was enough to break him fully.

“I know I was the one to break us and I don’t have any right to feel this way, but I do. I never stopped missing you and moving on has been the most impossible thing I have ever done. So when Sal asked me how I was coping with dating in LA, I couldn’t lie- I figured I might not see this asshole again so why not just trauma dumping onto him.” Tommy sighed into his hands, balancing his elbows on the island counter. Buck thought that Tommy was probably partly relieved but terrified that said all that.  “He was trying to cheer me up, Evan, that’s all.”

Buck nodded, he heard all the words and was in the middle of processing them but he stalled on hearing Tommy call him Evan again.

“You called me Evan.” He hated how his voice cracked at that; his eyes stung with tears. He realized that that was enough for Tommy to look alarmed and walk over to him.

“Yeah, I guess I did.”

Buck licked his lips, his eyes glancing down to Tommy’s lips before he forced himself to look into Tommy’s eyes.

They were so sorrowful looking.

But it wasn’t enough yet.

“You said you miss me.”

Tommy nodded, stepping closer. Buck couldn’t pull away, he felt like he was being pulled by an invisible rope now.

“I missed you so much.” Tommy confirmed, his hand hovering but not just touching Buck’s cheek yet.

“There wasn’t any other guy?” Buck asked, he tried to sound angry or bitter- but he just sounded wounded and filled with yearning to his own ears.

“Just you, Evan.”

Buck nodded, he bit his lower lip, ignoring the heat pooling in his stomach as he watched Tommy’s eyes dilate at the move. “You broke up with me though.”

“I know.” Tommy sniffed, “I’m so sorry. I wish I could undo it.” He let out a huff of a laugh as he admitted, “Sal thought I was an asshole for breaking up with you.”

That got the mood to break for Buck, he was sure he heard that wrong. “Deluca thought you were the asshole for breaking up with me?”

Tommy nodded, clearly pressing a smirk, “He thought I quote “Didn’t know a good thing even when it tries to smack you upside the head”.” He cocked his head side to side, “He’s not wrong. He thought I was an idiot to break up with you, he’s not wrong.”

“He isn’t.” Buck shook his head in frustration, he was still angry but, damn, he missed Tommy too much to not be wistful about the time they wasted. “You broke up with me for a dumb reason.”

“I know.”

“I wanted forever with you Tommy, I still do.” Buck hated how much he had to expose himself like this, but he needed to know. “Do you?” he asked the older man, “Because it’s either you do or don’t. I don’t want either of us to be unsure down the line in six months.”

Warm hands encompassed the sides of his face as he found himself being pulled towards Tommy.

The kiss melted away his anger, his bitterness, and thoughts.

Despite knowing better, Buck felt himself give in and hold onto Tommy’s hips as Tommy deepened the kiss. He didn’t even freaking mind that his lip was still sore from the fight.

It felt like he was home again, lulled into this warm and safe hold that he had missed terribly.

Pain be damned.

“I do.” Tommy told him, their foreheads pressed together and their lips just a touch away. Buck shivered as Tommy’s thumb brushed over his cheek and birth mark. “I’m all in, if its not too late.”

“It’s not too late.” Buck pulled him into another kiss.

This one was longer and led them to the couch….

-

“So wait, did Deluca actually want us back together?” Buck asked as he accepted a beer. The two had ordered food for (a late) lunch, situating themselves back on the couch with their food in hand.

“Still does.” Tommy nodded towards his phone that was sitting on the living room table, “He wrote back “Congrats assholes”.” Tommy took a sip of his beer, “The sweetest thing he’s ever said to me.” He told Buck dryly, causing the other man to snort before he started to piece together more things.

“Does that mean he knew who I was when he saw me on the scene yesterday?” Buck asked incredulously.

“Yeah,” Tommy confessed, he sat up and turned so that he was fully facing Buck now, “That’s why I came here. Sal is an asshole, but he does tone it down when he’s on a call. He thought it was funny to rile you up. To test you or something, I thought he was kidding when he told me you punched him. That’s not like you.”

Buck sheepishly agreed, “I-I just had a hard time accepting that you would go out with a guy like that. I don’t even get how your friends with a guy like that.”

Tommy hummed in agreement, he massaged Buck’s thigh- missing that simple intimacy as he told Buck, “It wasn’t a date.” He reminded Buck pointedly, before he could continue his phone pinged, “That better be him with good news.”

“Good news?”

Tommy looked at his messages, “Yeah.” He passed his phone to Buck, “I told him he better fess up to Bobby about why he decided to be a dick to you. I told him I would be headed here too since I was pissed at him for starting this.”

Buck read the latest message and felt a slew of feelings.

‘Tell your boyfriend that his suspension got recalled. Told Nash what happened. Consider this a thank you, you dick. Also, your boyfriend owes me a beer.’

Buck rolled his eyes as he dropped the phone between them, “He is a asshole.”

“But he does get the job done.” Tommy teased as he pulled Buck for a kiss.

Buck shook his head at the terrible attempt of a joke but relented as he went in willingly. “True.”

[shefollowedthestars]

okay after this post i have to do this

owning a bakery with your girlfriend, kate bishop 𐙚 ˚🍰 ⋆｡˚ ᡣ𐭩

warnings: none except a mention of a threat? if there's anything else that should be put here pls lmk

notes: I LOOOOVE THIS IDEA. bc i love baked goods and kate bishop. this is also mostly unedited so i apologize if it is horrible lmao 😭 also i mentioned the bakery is in east harlem bc that's the vibe it gives me but i also have never been to nyc so i could be completely off

it's called bishop-y/l/n's bakehouse. small and brick, located in east harlem, it's a homey and welcoming bakery that thrives and centers around community

you two are friends with your regulars and constantly help said regulars out in their personal lives (kate and her friends may have saved them a couple of times). but you always know things abt your customers lives and have daily chats. "ms. carter! did your son get accepted into columbia?"

the art on the walls consist of custom art you two had made of your golden retriever, archery memorabilia, souvenirs and things you got gifted - all very friendly and cozy vibes

all the recipes are either family recipes you got from your side or recipes that kate discovered from messing around in the kitchen for hours

additionally, the bakehouse is the number one spot for the young avengers (mcu's version). after a hard mission or when they're stuck on something, they'll come to the bakery and talk to you as you serve what you know is there favourite dish. you know each superhero's one by heart and ofc you know kate's better than anyone else's. you know her favorite is the strawberry shortcake cupcakes you make (your great aunt taught you the recipe) and she likes them with one strawberry slice cut in half on the top. she gives you a kiss on the cheek whenever you bring it over, which earns a "ew" from kamala lol and a "ohhhh my god you two are adorable" from billy

kate likes to refer to owning a bakery as her first job as it is her favorite thing in the entire world. she loves serving customers, preparing food with you and looking at the community and home that you've built

i think there's definitely been times the bakery has been threatened by certain enemies with kate being hawkeye and she immediately gets protective and tells her co-heroes that they have to do something about it

she didn't really need to tell them that though because they were all on the same page. there's no way america is losing the place that sells the best flan in all of new york city!!

and you know those cliche play fights couples have in movies? where they throw flour at each other and now ingredients are all over each of their faces but they're just both so in love with each other? yup that happens way too often with the two of you. you'll say something like "hey aren't you like a wannabe katniss everdeen?" and she'll immediately throw the flour she has at your face teasingly lmao

also clint and his family visit all the time and the kids are so excited!! they will try literally everything in the bakery and get a sugar rush lol. it tires you out low-key, but it makes kate want kids soooo bad. and can you blame her? i mean imagine a cute little kid running around looking cute and taste testing your new recipes 🥺 "mommmm, it needs to be sweeter!!"

and whether you end up having kids in the future or not, this bakehouse will be passed down to someone part of the warm and loving family you two have created with your delicious food <3

i'm literally obsessed with this idea so if you have anything to add PLEASE let me know in the comments or send me an ask abt your thoughts bc i could talk about this for hours on end genuinely. anyways i hope you enjoyed and have a wonderful wonderful day!!

[things-arent-what-they-seem66]

Lucifer and Michael's shock wore off and they tackled their father to the ground. Adam landed on the floor holding his midsection as he cried out in pain.

Why did this have to happen? Why couldn't they just leave them alone to be in peace? They weren't hurting anyone they just love each other.

Is that so fucking wrong?

He didn't know how long he was laying there, but soon Lucifer was holding him covered in black blood.

Lucifer: Adam! Speak to me, say something.

Adam: It hurts!

Lucifer: I-I-I know it hurts baby, but I have to feel the damage okay? I can't heal you if I don't know what's hurt.

He retracted his claws fully and gently as he could stuck his fingers in Adams wound, making him scream.

Lucifer healed the stab wounds and felt for what his father crushed. He was nervous to find out if it was Adam's uterus. Carefully he pulled it out and it was a kidney that looked like bean paste.

He dropped it on the floor and went back to feel for his uterus, there were a few cuts on it but it was okay. Apparently Adams was lower than most.

Adam had passed out from the pain and Lucifer healed him, closing his injury.

Michael: Is he....?

Lucifer: A kidney..... When's he better I'll look into getting him a new one. But for now he needs rest.

Michael nodded, his father's head in his hand removed from his body.

It had to be done.

Lucifer scooped Adam up and took him up to their room where he didn't leave his side.

Michael even stayed to protect them in case anyone else showed up.

Monster under the bed au where Lucifer is a monster and "terrorizing" Adam?

And by terrorizing, I mean fucking. Grossly. Disgustingly.

Complete monster porn.

Oh no, are my kinks coming out again? Oh well 😉

🥵🥵🥵🥵🥵🥵

Don't tease me with a hot au lol

Oh, what if Adam bought a new house and that's when it starts?

[kitsunexgari]

Chapter One Summary: Wanting to make a name for herself, Lexi (an investigative journalist) finds herself hot on the trail of the story of the century after being transferred to Seoul by management in her hometown of New York City. After months of research on the legend of the Squid Game she manages to track down the notorious recruiter. Only she doesn't realize that he's been tracking her much better and soon he has her exactly where he wants her. Tags: Kidnapping, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Hostage Situations, Guns, Face Slapping, Threats of Violence, Threats of Rape/Non-Con Notes: This is just an introductory chapter to establish a few things so not too much dark stuff happens in it but it definitely won't stay that way so keep that in mind.

Squid Game

The two words that haunted her every waking moments and sometimes even her dreams. Were they real? Did they actually happen? Or was it just a rumor being passed around on the streets from the desperate and delusional? It was something she was attempting to find out but as more and more time passed she couldn’t help but wonder if it wasn’t more of a fever dream than a reality. 

She’d been sent overseas as an investigative journalist. It wasn’t even a job she really wanted to have. It was a job to pay the bills until she could do what she’d always wanted to do, and that was to be a writer. Novels. Not meaningless articles and puff pieces about the local art scenes in various countries. That wasn’t anywhere near exciting. The problem was that she was aware that if she didn’t somehow get her foot in the door with a big story first she’d probably never make it as the writer she really wanted to be. It was the only thing that had kept her working as a reporter, the potential networking she could do to get where she wanted to be. 

It was only once she was transferred to Seoul did she start hearing this rumor. It wasn’t anything that her boss was interested in covering. Not by her or anyone else. According to him it was all made up nonsense but according to the people on the street the story was quite the opposite. Some people claimed their friends had gone to play this game and vanished entirely, never to be heard from again. There was no real way to verify this as it was, seeing as how anyone she heard this story from was homeless, an alcoholic, or both. She had tried to do her research on the names she was given but there was little to nothing to track. 

If the authorities had any information on this type of thing going on they had no official word on it and she’d tried that too. Law enforcement was less than helpful, only responding to her once as if she were an absolute crazy person and not a journalist. Between her routine assignments and writing the mind numbingly boring articles that she had to put out every day she continued to do what she could to investigate the leads she needed to investigate to find out if any of this was true or not. 

Just when she believed that it may be time to throw in the towel, she was given a tip from a random woman in a bar. One that she believed to be accurate since the woman was able to produce one of the business cards from the game. There were three shapes on the front and a number on the back. The woman said she fully intended to call it and join this game so she was extremely reluctant to give up the card. What she was able to get instead was the story of how this woman had been given the card in the first place. 

That story in of itself sounded like complete bullshit but it was the most solid lead she had going for her at that point in time so it was at least something to keep investigating. The woman told her that in order to get the card she had been challenged to a game of Ddakji in one of the subway systems as she was waiting for her train. The man, as described by her, was tall and handsome, wearing what she believed to be an expensive business suit. He also carried a briefcase. This information was almost as useful as it was useless, considering there were probably a million men in the city that looked like that. However, the one detail that did set him apart from anyone else who might look like that was the game he would be playing. 

It was from there that she went on a mission to try to find this man, an alleged recruiter for the Squid Game. Something which she was sure was being recruited for at that very moment if she was able to find someone who had just gotten the card. The legend told that hundreds of people were sent to some island after being selected so she figured she had time to figure out who this man was, where he might be. Though if she missed him this time around there was almost no telling when he may appear again, if he did at all. For all she knew it wasn’t always the same man, or there was more than one. 

All of her spare time became dedicated to riding the trains, going from station to station, hoping to find anyone who fit that description while also playing that game. Day after day and night after night she rode the trains. Every line from beginning to end. Yet time and again nothing came of it. She’d been at it for weeks with no progress and asking anyone around her about this alleged guy playing this game once again met her with a bunch of weird looks or blank stares. She knew she couldn’t keep going after this, that it was running her completely ragged and sooner or later she would have to give it all up as a pipe dream, wondering what could have been instead of what was. There were probably other, better stories to follow that could put her on the map. Why was she wasting so much time on this? Why had it become such an obsession? 

Late one night, as she sat on yet another random platform waiting for another train to take her to another station, she heard some type of commotion down the platform kind of next to her. Close enough that as she turned her head to look she could see what was going on but far enough away that the people involved wouldn’t have any reason to notice her or what she was doing. That was when she caught him. The tall handsome man in the business suit, with the briefcase, playing Ddakji with what looked like a homeless man. She sat up and turned on her phone aiming it to record what was going on as discreetly as possible, only stopping it when it seemed like the game was over and the business man was moving on. He had to come towards her and pass her to go back up the stairs to leave. She kept her head down as if she were looking at her phone for some other reason until he was almost gone. That was when she got up and started to follow in the same direction that he was headed. 

Now that she knew what he looked like it was easy to keep track of him as she walked out of there. Being of a smaller size she blended into what little was left of a crowd there. He never once turned to look over his shoulder nor did he seem to peg her as someone who was trailing behind him. Things got a bit more complicated when he hailed a cab but she was able to get one right behind him and convince the driver to follow it after also offering him double the usual rate for the ride fare. 

This took her to a nice part of the city where his cab stopped outside of a building with luxury condos. She had her driver stop past that location and down the street before she got out and doubled back to the building. Luckily, he was still in the lobby area once she had gotten inside, managing to catch the door before it shut as someone else was leaving. She entered casually as if she were supposed to be there, glancing at her phone every so often as if she were texting someone and not paying attention to whatever this guy was doing. 

She was able to keep an eye on him as he stepped over to the elevators and pressed the button to call one down. Using her phone camera, she recorded him over her shoulder from behind so that she didn’t have to actually turn to look in his direction and be all the more suspicious. The elevator doors opened and he got on. She stayed where she was until the doors had closed completely then walked over to them to watch which floor it was going up to. The numbers continued to climb further and further until they stopped on the 27th floor. She immediately pressed the button to call another elevator and as luck would have it, seconds later it opened up letting a few people out before she got on then pressed the button for the same floor. 

Shifting from foot to foot anxiously, she watched the numbers go up and continue to go up, hoping that they wouldn’t make any random stops along the way. She’d already risked missing him in the first place by not finding some excuse to get on the elevator with him but she thought that would be far too suspicious. Especially if he had happened to notice her without saying anything about it. The elevator finally stopped and the doors opened to the 27th floor. She looked both ways and realized she had no clue which way he could have gone until she heard what sounded like a door closing down the hallway off to her left. She headed in the direction of the sound, but part of her knew it would be somewhat futile seeing as how she would have no way to tell what door had just closed and for what reason. It didn’t mean he was the one who had entered it. 

Her pace was still slow and casual even though she was the only one in the hallway at that point. She looked at every door as she passed, noting that there were names on each door under the numbers for convenience sake. Yet, nothing really stood out to her as any specific door that this man could have gone into. She also didn’t know if he even lived here, he could just be visiting someone else. Maybe her best bet was to go back down to the lobby and just wait it out. Follow him once he left the building. She would wait all night if she had to. This was as close as she’d gotten so far and she wasn’t going to let go of this lead easily. She glanced at the door closest to her before turning back to the elevator waiting area. Once she got there she called the elevator and stood back to wait. 

“Looking for someone?” 

“Hmm?” She looked up when she heard the voice speak but before she could turn around to see who had said that to her she was grabbed from behind, a cloth placed over her nose and mouth as she was held tightly against a considerably strong body. She struggled, doing the best she could to attempt to escape this grasp but in the end it was no use. Her vision soon began to tunnel before everything went completely dark. 

When she came to, she found herself tied to a chair in a very fancy looking dining room. Her hands bound behind her back and her ankles tied down to the legs of the chair for good measure. Her head was pounding and her vision was still a bit blurry but the more she woke up the more she realized how completely fucked up this situation was. She hadn’t even told anyone where she was going or what she was attempting to do. Not since everyone had thought she was insane anyway. It wasn’t like she had a bunch of friends or family who would notice her missing either. She’d been quite a loner since before she’d even gotten to Seoul, far more focused on her career than having a social life. 

A man came into the room a moment later. The exact same man that she had seen on the subway platform playing that game. It was obvious to her now that he’d noticed her and had been waiting to get the drop on her, but how? She’d barely done anything to stand out. It didn’t seem to make sense. Then again, if all of this was real and he really did recruit people to play this incredibly illegal game then he was probably more aware of his surroundings than she’d given him credit for. She had to admit he was far more attractive this close to her than she had initially given thought to. From his pocket he pulled a phone, her phone, one which he set on the table and slid towards her. 

“I’m going to need you to delete any footage you have of me.” He said in a polite yet somehow creepy tone. Maybe it was just how calm he was as he spoke that made it creepy. She guessed she’d have expected him to be angry or something but if he was, that wasn’t coming across in his tone of voice or mannerisms. 

“Why don’t you just break it?” 

“That would be unnecessary I think, since as of now I don’t intend you any harm but that could easily change if you aren’t willing to comply.” 

“Who are you?” 

“Erase the footage.” 

“You’re going to need to untie me for that, if it wasn’t obvious.” She rolled her eyes, attempting to play off her fear of this situation as annoyance knowing that he very much held her life in his hands. He chuckled and walked around to the other side of the table where she was sitting, standing behind her for a moment before she felt his hands over her wrists to untie them from the position they were in. Once she was released she brought her hands in front of her only to feel the cold metal of a gun pressed to the temple of her head. She wished she could have said this was the first time that had happened but having lived in New York City most of her life it had happened before. 

“You won’t want to try anything stupid, just remember that.” He warned her. 

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” She said, attempting not to sound like a smart ass about it but kind of failing. She picked up the phone and used the face ID to unlock it. Holding the phone in a way he could see the screen as well, she went through her photo albums and videos to also show him what she had and that she was deleting them. “There, done.” 

“Where are they uploading to?” He asked. 

“What?” 

“I can see they are being sent somewhere, as backup, not just a cloud either. Somewhere that you’d have to access yourself. Is that right?” 

Shit. How did he even know that part? 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” She lied. There was the sound of an amused chuckle before the chair was turned around to face his direction and the gun was jammed under her chin as he got down to look right in her eyes. 

“Yes you do.” He insisted, “And you’re going to tell me where that place is.” 

“What good will that do? You’d need to be me to get into it.” She hissed, “And newsflash, you’re not getting in there without clearance or drastically changing your appearance to look exactly like me.” He stared her down for another moment before backing up and shaking his head, it looked as though they were caught in a stalemate. He knew he couldn’t kill her if that footage was going somewhere else, and she knew that as well. 

“It seems we are at an impasse.” He said after a moment, “And something tells me you aren’t going to be an extremely easy woman to compromise with, am I right?” 

“Something along those lines, yeah.” 

“Well then,” He said, “If we can’t come to a compromise then the only other solution is pure submission.” 

“What the hell are you talking about? What do you think you’re going to do to me?” 

“Looks like I’m going to do anything I fucking want.” His oddly terrifying grin widened before he struck her across the face with the back of his hand hard enough to send the chair toppling over which sent her to the floor in a daze. She blinked a few times, desperately trying to cling to consciousness as long as she could but between whatever he’d drugged her with before and the sudden blow to the head it was no use. The last thing she was aware of as everything went dark was the sound of unhinged almost sinister laughter.