#and yes ''wouldn't that be cool/fucked up!?'' is in fact a reason

[cosmicsproutcake]

why are so many of your ocs super overpowered though??

Ever since I was a really little kid, I've been very frustrated with the fact we invented all these super awesome powers and concepts for story telling purposes, but then, somewhere down the line, decided we actually aren't allowed to use like any of them because it's "bad story telling", or some other such nonsense.

Like, no, if I wanna write an impervious, God-like character with a cheeky personality and barely addressed flaws that everyone loves, then I damn well will, and if you have a problem with that, then clearly you are not the target audience.

Not everything is for everyone, and some of you people seriously need to learn to make your peace with that.

[eraserbread]

your husband, nanami finally gives you the one thing you've been pining over ✧

→ mention of contraceptives, (annoyed?) nanami, breeding kink, sexually explicit content

kento spoils you rotten. he's starting to see that, now.

you wanted a house? a week later he slid the deed to you over dinner.

that new egregiously priced sectional you've been eyeing? add to cart.

there was only one thing he fought you on.

"i'm sorry - just couldn't help but notice." ken walks into the bedroom where you're relaxing on your side of the bed, new fiction book in hand that you only just picked up. "is this your birth control? it was in the trash can..."

"oh." you reply haphazardly, flipping to page 28. "my doctor and I decided we'd take a few months off the daily's until my hormones even out."

poor kento - he has no idea what you're talking about, but he knows you never told him anything about hormones. "yes, I understand." no, he doesn't. "but what about contraception?"

"we'll be fine for a few weeks." you turn to the next page, deciding it being better not seeing his face right now. you wouldn't be fine - in fact, you're ovulating.

but, is it such a crime to have a baby with your extremely well-off, generous, yet supremely stubborn husband? the way he's acting, you would think so.

"i'm just supposed to not lay hands on you for a few weeks?"

"if that's what you feel like, yeah."

"hey." he suddenly crowds you, standing at your side of the bed and pushing your book down. "I don't like the nonchalant."

"just wear a condom, nanami." you flick his big hand away from your book, content just to rile him up a bit before accepting defeat.

you know what you're doing.

"nana..." he's repeating his name -- a name you never called him unless you were serious. "I'll give you time by yourself to cool off." he's at that tempered-state right before his self-control shatters; all he needed was another push.

"lock it behind you?"

"why do you need to lock the door?" you can see it as he faces your back to you, heading to give you some space before he's stopped by your words. this is a home of open doors- even if you're using the bathroom. it's a bit insulting that you'd want to lock the bedroom one now.

a flick of the finger finds you at page 30, and you smile as your main character is taunted and poked. " oh, nothing. just thought i'd try this new toy friend sent me."

"toy? are you trying to make me mad?" kento's glad to admit he's never even seen you whisper next to a sex toy when he's around. he truly is so spoiled.

the door in his hand he was about to close behind him, slams shut with a single push. it makes just enough noise to pull you from your relaxed state, lowering your book and furrowing a brow.

so, just imagine your ease and joy when he has you folded in a mating press a few minutes later, sweat dripping down the side of his face as he fucks you into the mattress. your knee is over his shoulder, thick, chiseled torso shining in the dull bedroom light under sex and sin. he looks so good like this -- eyes screwed shut and only blinking open to study your pained, but highly satisfied expression.

"you want a baby so damn bad, I'll give you a baby." he growls, taking your other knee in his strong hands to will you deeper into the position. you're aching already, and he was not the gentlest, but you loved every second of it.

it's nearly embarrassing just how wet you are, and ken can feel it as you squelch and weep for him. it's impossible to let up, you're fucking squeezing around his cock like you're trying to milk him dry, spilling out fitting endearances that lick over him, giving him reason to take you harder.

he's so hard it hurts -- it hurts because you're so beautiful and he loves you so much that he hogs all of his sweet, sweet seed for you all day until you're loose enough to take all of it.

but, you're so damn stubborn and you know how to frustrate him. he loves it. he lives for anything you give him -- it just gives him reason to fuck you a little harder after a long day. he knows you need that, so who cares if it takes a little bratting to get your way?

after all, he married you.

and it's pointed directly at your womb that he cums so fucking hard and deep. forcing himself to keep fucking you through it so he can pump his seed deeper and deeper until it has nowhere to go but up and out.

your stupid little plan worked. now, he has you bred and limp when he pulls out, leaving a sick stain of white between your thighs in his wake.

"you got what you wanted? happy now?" ken regards you with a glance over his shoulder as he scoots out of bed. you're staring at him unblinking, just taking in the way his strong back twitches with every move.

it's fucked-out and pliable that you give him a little nod, smiling soft at the corners, you mumble --

"...gonna have a baby... yay."

[cosmic-dust-poltergeist]

Pt 5 of Danny is the 99th attempted clone Tim made of Kon. Danny's 7th birthday.

[Pt 4: here]

Danny has truly enjoyed his life with his new family. He still has no idea how he went from a full dead teenager dying again to a year old kryptonian clone baby, but he's not mad about it at all. He's treated like the most precious treasure here.

He's allowed to be himself in all of his "weirdness". He can use his powers freely and experiment with his gender expression without fear of being torn apart by mad scientists. All his special interests are respected and encouraged, too. And they take his physical AND mental health seriously.

It's great! He knows so many new people with a wide range of powers, and while he doesn't have access to his ghost powers at all, he still can ask about similar powers incase he starts developing them later or becomes a ghost again without anyone questioning it. He's just seen as a curious kid, and the metas in his life are happy to share.

He also knows his family would notice instantly if he died again. Uncle Duke and Uncle Jason would clock him by sight or touch alone, since they can see/sense his connection to ectoplasm, or Lazarus Pit Waters. The rest wouldn't take much longer to notice. The "Bat" portion of his family are glorified stalkers, but he can't say anything, he lived with them full time for a while, and the behaviors have rubbed off on him. The non-Bat portions of his family tease the Bat portion about it, in a fun way.

Danny used all of his childish power to get everyone to be nicer. No one wants the silent treatment from a bubbly toddler. Danny isn't sorry about the manipulation, his family is happier for it. He also teamed up with his dad to get everyone into therapy.

All that to say, he loves it here. He's loved by his new family in a way his original family never did. The difference is never more stark than on days like today. It's his birthday! He's turning 7! Sure, he's technically about 20 mentally, but he's physically and emotionally 7. His family doesn't know about his past life and think his mentally maturity is because of Tim fucking up, which makes Danny feel a little guilty, but not enough to come clean. Besides, neither he or his dad are treated poorly for Danny's weird behavior, and there hasn't been a reason to come clean.

Back to the birthday thing! Most of Danny's family are with him window shopping in one of the safer cities. He thinks it's Uncle Roy's city? Something about there being new stores Danny might like and being petty to Roy's not-dad? Danny's here for the petty. Mr. Queen seems like a douche any of the times he's seen or interacted with him.

"Hey, Danny?" Bernard calls slightly for his attention. Bernard is one of his dad's boyfriends. Yes, "one of". Danny is kind of proud the fact his dad has a healthy love life now. Tim is the definition of a disaster bisexual. It took Danny and his favourite uncles nearly a year to get Tim to realize he likes guys. But in a hilariously turn of events, Tim realized he liked Bernard before he realized he likes Kon. Danny's not sure how that happened. "Look over there. There's a cool looking skirt."

Danny looks where he's pointing and sees the coolest skirt. It's a high-low cut and mainly colourful space print with pretty black lace detailing. There's no way the one on display would fit Danny, but maybe they'd have one small enough inside?

He turns hopeful eyes to his amused dad. "Yes, we can go look. Just don't run off."

"Yay!" Danny cheers. His family starts heading towards the store's entrance when an explosion goes off nearby. He's suddenly in Bernard's arms. As the "normal" civilian, he's tasked to get Danny away from danger when things inevitably hit the fan.

When the smoke clears, he sees Ra's fucking Al Gul and a bunch of ninjas standing in front of their group. A ballsy move. Danny has overheard 2/3s the people here discussing how much they want to straight murder the guy. He's not really sure when it happened, but his family is convinced Ra's is the reason he's tied to ectoplasum. He's made no move to correct that notion, why should he? He absolutely hates the creep and doesn't hide it.

And despite Danny's clear hatred, the evil old man keeps trying to kidnap him. Danny thinks it started as a way to get back at Tim. To either scare Tim or train Danny into being his lap dog and fight his family or something. Danny's not really sure of the details of what the asshole's plan was. Whatever it was, it changed the moment he learned of Danny's connection to the "Lazarus Pit". Now he wants to turn Danny into the "perfect heir" and/or experiment on that connection. It's actually really scary. Just another reason for Danny to hate him.

"Hand over the boy." Ra's tries to intimate Bernard, who just sneers. He's a true Gothamite.

"Fuck off, Ra's!" Tim snarls, taking out 3 ninjas. Oracle will wipe any evidence of "The Waynes" fighting ninjas later, so Danny isn't too worried. Especially because the metas and least likely to be noticed sneak away and come back in their hero/vigilante costumes before any real fighting happens. They take over the fighting while the "civilians" start acting like civilians for the cameras to lighten Auntie Barbie's work load.

Cops are called because it'd be suspicious if they weren't, and the "civilians" are saved! Ooo!

Danny hugs Bernard, careful to not hug too tightly. "I hate him."

"I know, baby." Bernard rubs Danny's back.

Tim leans in close, kissing the top of Danny's head. "I'm sorry he ruined our day out, sweetheart."

Danny nods solemnly, "It's not your fault he's a creep. He needs so much help. Mentally."

Tim and Bernard chuckle. Bart zips over, dressed as a civilian again. "Hey! Why don't we head to the Tower? We can play in the gym and eat cake!"

"Power Tag?" Danny asks hopefully.

"Only if you keep your powers within reason." Tim says like he does every time Danny asks. "Within reason" means Danny and Kon aren't allowed to fly where no one can reach or lazer anyone or freeze people to the floor, Bart isn't allowed to go too fast, and no one is allowed to use too much superstrength. The amount of speed or strength changes as Danny gets older and if non-metas play. It's baby steps for him to learn combat safely. They still have a lot of with all the things they're allowed to do. Danny and Kon are allowed their flight and can freeze the floor to make people slip, Bart is allowed to vibrate himself through anything not living, and Cassie is allowed to use normal rope to lasso them.

It's even funner when Roy, with dummy arrows, and/or the different Bats join. They all twist and jump around the gym, causing effortless chaos. The game is significantly harder when the Bats join, but it's still super fun.

The things he learned during those games have saved his skin multiple times in Gotham. Powers or no powers.

"Just remember to take out your earrings. You don't want them to get caught or break." Bernard reminds him, carrying him towards a Zeta tube.

Danny gasps, "I almost forgot!"

He wiggles to be set down once they're through the zeta, a device he hates, but is used to after 4 years of using it. He takes off his dangily moon earrings and holds them out to Bernard.

"Can you hold onto them, Baba?" The term was suggested by Damian when Danny struggled to find a third distinct way to call someone dad. Tim is Dad, Kon is Pa, and Bernard is Baba. They all do their best to co-parent Danny, so he wanted them to know he appreciates all three of them for it.

"Of course," Bernard slips them into his pocket. Bernard never joins power tag, so Danny's earrings are safe with him.

"Thank you-" Danny is cut off by Kon sweeping him up in a hug and twirling them in several circles. Danny squealing in joy the whole time.

"I'm so sorry, honey!!" Kon stops his spinning and hugs Danny with enough force to break a normal kid's ribs. "That crusty moldy bisket always shows up at the worst times!"

"Is there ever a good time?" Bernard snarks, making Danny giggle.

"No, there is not!" Kon kisses Danny's forehead. Danny loves all the physical affection his parents are willing to give him. They hand it out like candy on Halloween, and it doesn't hurt like Jack and Maddie's affection did 4 of 5 times.

"Dad and Baba said we can play power tag! Do you think Dad or my Aunts or Uncles will play?" Danny vibrates in Kon's hold.

"I'm not sure about your Dad, he wasn't feeling well earlier, but I'm sure the rest will agree if you ask."

"Is Dad getting sick?" Danny asks. Tim is prone to getting sick because of his lack of spleen. He hopes his dad wasn't pretending to be fine while they were out.

"I'm not sure. We'll keep an eye on him, alright? And if we see any weird behavior, we'll make him lay down." Kon says lowly, so no one should be able to hear.

"Okay!" Danny whispers back, before wiggling out of his Pa's arms and declaring, "I'm going to ask people to play now!"

The rest of the day was fun! He got everyone, but Bernard, Tim, and Bruce, to play. It's absolute chaos. After the game, Danny opens presents. (Everyone apparently dropped their gifts off at the tower before they went out.) He now owns 5 new rocket/spaceship models, 3 tomes about the supernatural, 2 newly released books on astrophysics, a beautiful bright green dress, punny socks, a giant green ghost plushy, and the space skirt from the window! Uncle Jason apparently grabbed it after everyone was headed to the Tower. It's a little big, but it means he can wear it for longer! He puts it on over his shorts, the tail drags a little, and the shorts are the only reason it's staying up at all, but Danny loves it. He hugs everyone and thanks them with the biggest smile.

Alfred brings the nicest cake Danny has ever seen to the Tower. It's a work of art, Danny almost doesn't want to cut it. Almost. It's delicious. Alfred gave everyone permission to eat a slice before dinner.

The only problem when dinner is served is that Tim suddenly bolts for the nearest bathroom. Bernard is the only one allowed to go in, while the rest hover outside. They can hear him throw up. Everyone is really worried. After about 10 minutes, Bernard half carries an exhausted Tim out of the bathroom.

"I'm not sick." Is the first thing out of his mouth, which justifiably has people shouting in disbelief. Tim waves a calming hand at them. "No, really, I'm not sick. I was going to wait at least a few days to say something, but that plan is out the window. "

"Wait a few days-? Tim, what?" Uncle Jason has his worried angry voice out, and Danny usually hugs him when he hears it, but he's too busy staring at his dad. Something trying to click in his brain, but he's not quite sure what.

"I'm not sick or injured. I'm pregnant." The commotion is instant. It's mostly excited shouting. Danny glances at his Baba and Pa's faces. Bernard looks surprised but happy while Kon looks like he's about to pass out, a mix of fear and excitement on his face. So Danny isn't worried about them.

Danny trots up to a tired and slightly wary Tim. "I'm going to be a big brother?"

Tim slips out of Bernard's hold to kneel down to be eye level with Danny. He gives Danny a sad smile. "If all goes well, then yes. I want to keep them, but my body might try to reject them. I hope they make it. You'll be the best big brother."

Danny hugs his dad. "I hope so. I hope we get to meet them."

Kon and Bernard sit on the floor on either side of them. Excited vibes surrounding them.

"Oh!" Steph shouts, "That's why you've been asking us to cover most of your fieldwork this week! We all thought it was odd, but thought you were just planning something for Danny's birthday!"

Tim chuckles, "I was, but I was also trying to limit physical stress. This is going to be a difficult pregnancy, but I want it."

"... At least you got laid this time." Steph teases.

"Steph!!" Several people scold her about being inappropriate with "little ears" present. Danny ignores them. He instead, using flight and a touch of superstrength, pulls his Dad to his feet.

"Danny?" Tim curiously asks, but doesn't stop Danny from pulling him through the room and gently sitting him on the couch.

"What food made you throw up?"

"Danny, it's your birthday. Go have fun. You don't need to worry about me or the baby." Tim tries, but Danny is stubborn.

"It's dinnertime. Meaning the party should be ending anyways. So after dinner, we're going home and maybe watching a movie while I work on one of my new models. After that, it's bedtime." Danny sternly tells him, ignoring the rest of the family's giggles. "So what food was it?"

The rest of the day/night goes exactly how he plans. He crawls into his parents' bed for snuggles and falls asleep listening to Tim's heartbeat.

Tim is banned from field work for the entirety of his pregnancy, and he has to deal with everyone being extremely protective of him. He's only mildly annoyed by the behavior. He's more grateful for it than anything. The pregnancy is hell on him. It nearly killed him, and he almost lost the pregnancy several times, but he doesn't regret it one bit when he's holding his ridiculous blond child. So first, he had twins with heteropaternal superfecundation, but then they merged into one baby with tetragametic chimerism. Meaning this single baby is rare and odd in so many ways, but that sums up their family.

Danny is infatuated with his new sibling. Helping out and "babysitting" the baby any chance he gets. (No adult actually leaves the newborn alone with a 7 going on 8 year old. No matter how mature the almost 8 year old is.) He's determined to be the best big brother. He remembers what his Dad said when he was a baby. A Drake protects what they claim as their's viciously. And Danny plans to do just that.

Tim is so proud. Bernard and Kon are amused and exasperated when Danny wrecks anyone who is even a little mean about his sibling. They're all more scared (for him mostly) when he freezes and shatters the limbs of Ra's Al Gul whe the fucker gets too close to the baby. He's not dead, but he's not recovering from what was done.

The Joker gets a similar treatment when he shows up while Jason is babysitting Danny. Danny sees how scared Uncle Jason is of him.

He does get lectured by his grandpa, but Danny doesn't care what Bruce has to say. He also doesn't see the problem, didn't kill them. Uncle Jason gets it. He spoils the hell out of Danny

[velvetwyrme]

bringing back the question for 2025: who in the autobots would fuck a car and/or have an sti

hi i thought too long and hard about this. then i made a silly comic about it which quickly got derailed into another silly bit. and then it kept getting longer and more terrible

i don't know whether you're the same person as the original anon or not but im gonna freakin cry either way. is this my legacy...

on one hand this ask gave me lots of motivation for some reason, so thank you for that, but on the other hand it motivated me to draw a 6 page comic about robot STIs.

i put too much effort into this lmao. for my actual conclusions AND some extra notes about the comic click the read more 👍

Ratchet: No and no. Has HAD STIs before. When he was younger. True across continuities except... in TFA he would have an STI. I can see it.

Ironhide: Yes carfucking, but I feel like the carfuckin was also a one time thing specifically. No STI. To quote my notes: "Frag no, Chromia or Ratch woukd kill him". Typo included.

Jazz: Yes carfucking, no STI because if he got one he'd be on top of treatment. Originally there was a bit in the comic with Jazz and Prowl arguing about which is worse: fuckin a car or havin a STI but it got cut because its already like 6 pages

Prowl: No carfucking and yes STI. He thinks carfucking is Really Weird. Wait. Purely off of vibes because I still haven't watched ES (someday...) but ES!Prowl would fuck a car.

Optimus: Who else do you think gave Megatron the STI? (/j /j... unless?) Carfucking and STI status varies wildly across continuities imo. G1? Yes and yes. IDW... depends on what point in time. I feel like its a yes to both but not at the same time. TFA would not fuck a car but he definitely has an STI. TFP! and ES! OP is a mystery to me, you guys can tell me if you have strong opinions on them. Hm. Armada OP would fuck a car.

Sideswipe: originally it WAS going to be him in the comic but as I mentioned, it got derailed. He'd absolutely give a car an STI.

Wheeljack/Trailbreaker/Hot Rod: Yeah, probably both. Maybe not at the same time though. Hot Rod was only so low on Prowls list because hes Literally Offworld but who knows what hes capable of.

Yes to carfucking, no STI: Lets see... Bumblebee, Cliffjumper (despite Prowl and Ironhide's assumption in the comic, THIS is my actual opinion lmao), I think Mirage would as well, but he'd vehemently deny it. Also *leans in close to the mic* Elita-1 would fuck a car. But she'd do it and it'd be like. Cool.

No to carfucking, yes STI: *long pause as i look into the middle distance* mmm...Smokescreen. I don't know much about TFP!Smokescreen but he can get lumped in there too. Sunstreaker as well, but more because he says he didn't fuck a car but he could be lying and you genuinely can't tell if he is. Also Brawn for some reason.

As for other characters elsewhere... Rodimus is a strong contender for giving a car an STI. So is Whirl, but I feel like he's slightly less likely to have an STI, yknow? Only slightly.

Other notable ones I think would have both but NOT at the same time: Swerve, Skids, Drift (specifically because of Rodimus because even if they don't fuck they seem like the type of friends who share drinks), I think First Aid fits in here too, and is the only medic who would have an STI that I can think of off the top of my head. Oh also Armada!Jetfire.

I also think that the Aerialbots are all contenders for this category too. Some more than others but it wouldn't matter because they all end up with an STI and it's miserable.

ALSO...

The alternate punchline to the comic, had it been set on the Lost Light, is... a meeting (in which the general consensus is that Rodimus fucked the car that mysteriously appeared on the Lost Light, AND he gave it an STI)

Then, Nightbeat bursts in with Brainstorm in tow, and he reveals that it was in fact Brainstorm's fault- NOT because he fucked the car (he's far more interested in er... lab equipment, lets say) BUT he made a gun that fucks cars, and accidentally gave the GUN a STI

ALSO SIDEBURN FROM TF:RID (2001). he would ABSOLUTELY fuck a car and give it an STI. He canonically loves red sportscars and you KNOW that mans got an STI.

[archiverstappen]

the cat sitter (part 15) ✧ max verstappen

max verstappen x fem! reader

previous part | masterlist

loosely inspired by the story on how max lost his cat

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maxverstappen1

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maxverstappen1 🐈

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landonorris Never beating the crazy cat lady allegations

danielricciardo 😍

yourusername i miss you ed, edd, and eddy. gone... but never forgotten 😿

↳ maxverstappen1 you named them?

↳ yourusername yes? 🤷‍♀️

username i dont care guys this is enough sign for me, it’s canon

username please tell me that she at least kept one of those cats

↳ yourusername maximus won’t let me keep them 💔

↳ maxverstappen1 Pretty sure that’s illegal 🤗

bffusername so is this the reason why you always take so long on your dates? because y/n can’t resist touching every single cat on the streets? [deleted]

bffusername cool pics! 😁👍

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username don’t know about you guys but the hand on her head awakened something feral in me

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landonorris He got game after all

↳ yourusername unlike you

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maxverstappen1 Lovely 🤍

bffusername this cake looks way better than maximus' birthday cake, progress!! 💪🏼

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bffusername now i'm curious, what did you say during mario kart? 🤔

↳ maxverstappen1 A lot of curse words

victoriaverstappen Enjoy your holiday guys, see you soon! 🧡

↳ yourusername MAX AND I WANT TO BABYSIT LUKA AND LIO AGAIN!!

↳ maxverstappen1 Y/N......

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maxverstappen1 More passion, more energy ❄️

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yourusername i kinda hate you right now ngl

↳ maxverstappen1 She's so brave, she's well behaved, she's not afraid 💪🏼

↳ yourusername HUSH

yourusername delete??? or i'll post a video of you dancing to 'paint the town red'??

↳ maxverstappen1 YOU WOULDN'T DARE

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yourusername MORE FOOTWORK MORE FOOTWORK 🕺🏽

charles_leclerc 😂

alex_albon Fucking finally 😮‍💨

landonorris I called dibs on being captain of the ship

↳ bffusername hi there, sorry to bother you. y/n's bff here. that position is already taken 🙏

↳ username speak uP? danielricciardo

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↳ landonorris exPLAIN??? maxverstappen1 yourusername

username the fact that this post has better engagement than max's wdc post i-

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↳ yourusername we're planning to make a tiktok couple account

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↳ yourusername please don't take it seriously, I WAS JOKING 😁🙏

--

author's notes: eden the scammer is back after 2 months guys, so sorry for making you guys wait too long (and giving you guys false hope) 👹 really hope you guys liked this one hehe, i also take additional request for tcs!! (but as you probably know, it's gonna take me 8273 years to finally post it). there are some references from my lando series in this part, so if you're interested you can also check it out 😙 LOVE YOUUUWWW, now i will hibernate for another 5 months 🤸‍♀️

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[skibidimadness]

Why Toxichero cant be together

Edit: guys, don't take it serous this my headcanons, guys.

Player is from the present(2025) and brad is past(2010), dating brad will cause a huge problem.

Brad doesn't know about player being from the future and player could tell him but would he really believe player?.... nah

that's a huge angst, and player knows that they must not have feelings for someone. And if brad were to confess his feelings player would apologize before rejecting him, saying they can't be together for some reason that player can't tell him.

Brad would try to pry or convince player why cant they be together. Player still wont tell him and even if they did tell him, brad wouldn't believe them and would just assume player doesn't like him back or still hasn't trusted him.

Ok here's another scenario but worse!

What if the player said yes and there now dating. Yall may say that's good right? WRONG!!

Not only, is this bad, but player knows that once they collect the swords, they'll have to tell brad the truth.

The worse thing can be is if brad actually takes player on a proper date, maybe took player to a nice place.

Player telling him the truth, only for Him brush it off thinking player is lying or making a joke, only for shedletsky to come out telling him everything.

The face brad will make, anger, sad, confused, he cant tell what hes feeling right now, the person hes in love with isn't in his timeline but the future? How can that be possible? Why did player even dated him, was this some sick joke? Maybe the player is lying to them, maybe the player doesn't have feelings for him.

He would overthink, but once he finds out all this is true(which will be really hard for him) he'll think its cool... but will hate the fact the person their inlove with turn out be someone from the future.

Warning: age gap mentioned of you know... stuff that people hate.

Another fucked scenario, brad in the present timeline seeing player again, hes already in his late thirties and player who hasn't changed one bit since, the last time he saw them was leaving his timeline.

as much he wants to embrace them and tell them he misses them, he cant, and he won't, it's been fifteen years and player being a youn adult.

And him? Late thirties, close to hit his early forties, and considering the age gap, yes, both are adults, but the idea of going back dating player considering how old he is.

He can't bring himself to date them, he would want them to be with someone young like them, but at the same time he wants to be the one with them.

But age gap relationship is looked down upon and knowing people would gossip or accuse him of forcing player to date them. He doesn't want player to go through this stuff. He cant put player in stupid situations like that.

Same goes with player, seeing him all grown up, the plants around him having flowers, they want to surprise him, ask them how hasn't been sicne the last time they saw him.

But they can't, maybe its because the guilt of leaving him all those years ago, alone for him to live and grow old and them coming back to visit him? Knowing they're still a young adult. It hurts them.

And the idea of the age gap makes it harder for them, fearing people will call him terrible things all or others telling them that their too young to date someone like him.

Maybe he'll find someone that's near his age, instead of them. Even if they want to be the one for him, they'll just cause more problems...

Sometimes, the player wished they didn't love him... sometimes they wished they weren't the chosen one...

[Sorry if my paragraphs don't make sense I was too distracted eating my burger and playing helldivers, and sorry if the last parts made yall uncomfortable, i just had to add logic and reality]

[triptuckers]

unfamiliar - rooster

Request: nope Pairing:  bradley "rooster" bradshaw x reader Summary:  after a night out rooster wakes up in an unfamiliar place Warnings:  mentions of alcohol, swearing, rooster is drunk, mentions of being hungover, mentions of sex Word count:  1.9k A/N: rooster would 100% be a chatty drunk. fight me on this. anyways I rewatched top gun again and had this one sitting in the drafts. bit of editing, blasting my rooster playlist, and voila! enjoy!

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penny holds the door open as you stumble through. the cool evening air outside is welcoming after the crowded bar. you look over your shoulder to thank penny.

'drive safely.' she says.

'will do.' you say.

you make your way over to the small parking lot. it takes way longer than it normally would. the reason why, is because rooster is leaning almost his full body weight on you and he's a great deal taller than you.

as you're searching for his car, he's talking your ear off. half of the time he's talking so fast you can't even understand him. he's talking about a number of things, switching topics so fast you conclude he's just thinking out loud. maybe that's what alcohol does to him. it's been a while since you'd seen him this drunk. then again, nothing got him as riled up as hangman daring him to do a drinking contest. hangman was still in there, but you'd decided it was time rooster went home.

just as rooster starts to become a little too heavy for you, you spot his familiar ford in the distance.

'thank fucking god.' you mutter.

you start to make your way over to it, careful not to let rooster face-plant on the floor. when you get to the car, you remove his arm from your shoulders and lean him against the car.

'where are your keys, rooster?' you ask.

rooster gives you a lopsided, drunken smile. 'wouldn't you like to know?' he says.

'yes, in fact, I would like to know.' you say, getting slightly annoyed at him. you think about how long it's going to take to get him home. especially since the trip from the bar to the parking lot took so long already. 'I would like to know so I can get you home.' you say.

'my pocket.' says rooster.

you look at him, waiting for him to get them out. when he doesn't, you groan.

'for fuck's sake, rooster.' you say, approaching him to get the keys out yourself.

'woah there, slow down, honey.' says rooster as you reach in one of his jean pockets to get the keys. 'take me out on a date first.'

'just getting the keys.' you say. 'can you get in the car yourself?'

'yes ma'am.' says rooster, playfully saluting you.

you roll your eyes but fight back a smile. all of this takes you back to a couple of years ago, when you and rooster had just started at top gun. the two of you had quickly become good friends. you were both excellent pilots, which is why you weren't surprised to see him when you got called back to top gun to train for a mission.

meanwhile, rooster is getting in the car. or rather, trying to. he's opened the door to the driver's side and getting in with a lot of knocking his elbows and head against the car, cursing loudly as he does so.

you reach out to grab the back of his shirt and pull him back. when he gives you a confused look, you point to the other side of the car.

'the passenger's side, idiot.' you say.

'this is the passenger's side.' says rooster.

you chuckle. 'in england it would be, but we're still in the u.s. other side.' you say.

rooster gives you a very confused look, turns to the car, back to you, and then walks around the car to get in the passenger's side.

'this night is gonna be even longer than I thought.' you mutter softly.

you get in as well and start the engine. rooster is very particular about his car, and would never let anyone else drive it. but you know he'd be even more annoyed if you left his car in a bar parking lot for an entire night. after making sure rooster fastened his seatbelt, you back out of the parking spot and get onto the road.

'I don't know where you're staying 'cause you don't live here anymore, so you'll need to give me directions.' you say. 'you think you can do that?'

'yeah.' says rooster confidently.

nope.

he's too drunk to remember the way to his place. while you're driving, he's giving instructions, and you're following them. but after a while, you begin to realise he's not giving you directions at all. he's just randomly shouting out for you to go left or right.

as you stop at what feels like the hundredth red light, you turn to look at rooster. his eyes are halfway closed and he's tapping his fingers on his leg in a rhythm.

'never thought I would end up in this situation.' you mumble as you take a left when the light turns green.

rooster is still giving you random directions. he doesn't seem to notice you're not following them. finally, you pull up to your house.

'alright, here we are.' you say.

you get out of the car and walk over to the passenger's side. inside, rooster is softly singing a song. you smile and open the door.

'let's go.' you say.

you all but haul him out of the car. rooster leans all of his body weight on you again as you walk to the door. your nostrils fill with a mixture of alcohol, sweat, and rooster's cologne.

you make sure rooster doesn't trip over his own feet as you walk the few steps up to the door. it takes you a while to unlock it, but you're finally inside.

you try to walk to your bedroom without knocking over too many things. when you lay rooster down, it doesn't take him more than 30 seconds to fall asleep.

you smile softly and bend down to pull off his shoes. you wrestle the blanket out from under him and pull it over him. after grabbing a pillow and a blanket for yourself, you move to the living room to sleep on the couch.

it was a fun evening, despite having to drag rooster the entire way home. you were excited to start training for this mission. while you reunited with some other friends a well, you had been the most happy about seeing rooster again. you hadn't seen him for a while, and you were glad to see nothing had changed between the two of you since you both left top gun.

you knew you were in for some exciting flying, and lots of jokes during training.

when rooster wakes up the next morning, his head feels way too heavy. he squeezes his eyes shut and buries his head in his pillow, wanting to sleep a little longer.

but as he inhales deeply, he smells a familiar perfume. and it's not his. he lifts his head slightly, wincing at the movement.

he did not own soft, orange coloured sheets. as he looks over to his nightstand, he sees a digital alarm clock. when did he get that? behind it is a collection of perfume bottles, sunscreen, and a couple of books stacked on top of each other. rooster rarely read a book.

trying to ignore the ways his head throbs, he pushes himself up on his elbows, taking in the room. his eyes roam over the closet - much bigger than his. he sees pictures on the wall, of people he doesn't know. there are some with him in it, though. on all of them, he's standing next to a familiar girl.

his heart skips a beat when he realises exactly where he is. your bedroom. how the hell did he get here? more pressing: what did he do after he got here?

rooster sits up and swing his legs over the side of your bed. he notices his shoes neatly placed next to the bed. after putting them on, he slowly rises to stand and walks over to the door.

when he opens it, a beam of sunlight directly hits his eyes.

'ah, fuck.' he curses as he shuts his eyes.

'good afternoon to you as well.'

rooster peels open one eye to see you sitting at your kitchen table, a steaming mug in front of you.

'hi.' he says.

'I've got coffee or water, and a couple of painkillers.' you say, pointing to the kitchen counter.

'thanks.' says rooster.

he takes the painkillers, chugs the glass of water, then pours himself a cup of coffee. he takes a quick look around the room as he walks over to the table.

there's a folded up blanket on the couch, as well as a pillow. you've got your hair undone, not pulled back in a bun as is regulation. you're wearing an old top gun shirt, and you've got one knee pulled up to your chest wedged between the table and yourself.

rooster thinks you look so at ease here.

he remembers he's in your home. of course you'd be at ease here. it's been too long since he's been here. some things have changed, some haven't. the photo taken at the end of your time at top gun is still up on the wall behind the couch.

'can I ask you something?' says rooster, fixing his attention back on you.

'of course.' you say.

'how did I get here?' he asks.

to his surprise, you snort softly as you take a sip of your coffee.

'I had to drag your ass over here. you know, you're heavy.' you say.

rooster raises an eyebrow, gesturing for you to go on.

'hangman dared you to a drinking competition. you lost. I had to bring you home, but you couldn't remember where you're staying. so I took you here.' you explain.

'a drinking competition, huh?'

'figured i'd let you sleep it off.'

'thanks.'

'no problem.'

rooster is quiet as he thinks, trying to remember anything about last night. he remembers drinking at penny's. playing pool. or darts? then waking up here. in your bed.

but you weren't next to him. by the looks of it, you slept on the couch. he mentally scolds himself for letting you sleep on the couch in your own home.

'can I ask something else?' he says.

you nod at him.

'last night, did we...?'

he let's the question hang in the air, but you know what he means.

'what? have sex? rooster, I would never take advantage of you like that. you were shit-faced drunk. I got you inside, and you started snoring the second your head hit the pillow.' you say.

'I don't snore.' says rooster, his ears turning red.

'oh, you definitely do.' you say.

'I don't. and thanks.' says rooster. 'for letting me crash at your place.'

'of course. you'd do the same for me.' you say. 'now finish your coffee and get up, you're driving me back to the bar so I can pick up my car.'

rooster frowns. 'you took my car?' he says.

'yeah, yeah, I know, I drove your precious car. don't worry, it's fine.' you say.

'she better be.'

you roll your eyes at his words. 'what is it with men and naming their cars? they're always in love with them as well.'

'I'm not in love with my car.' says rooster.

'sure you aren't.' you say over your shoulder as you head into the kitchen to put your empty mug away.

no, rooster is not in love with his car. but his eyes follow you until you're out of sight, and a part of him hopes some of you perfume might linger on him for a little while longer.

A/N: If you want to request something, make sure to read my house rulesHere’s the list of characters I write for. Everything that I have written can be found on my masterlist. Please don’t repost my work, as I spend much time and effort on it!! Thank you for reading! Much love, Marit

[for-a-longlongtime]

To all the fans in the Pedro fandom who feel like they don't belong

I see you. We see you. You have a place here among all of us, and we want you to be here - we really do.

No, this isn't a Kumbaya post, I'm fuckin' for real.

To all the writers...

... who receive racist messages, death threats, are being told their reader insert isn't good enough, that this and this character wouldn't be with someone who looks and sounds like you, that you're not using the right words or that you misspelled something --

I am so fucking sorry people had the fuckin' gall to direct that hate at you, because you don't deserve it. You share your stories and characters with us, and they are adored and read and celebrated exactly for who they are - not despite of who they are.

To everybody who lurks, reads, but doesn't feel like they can participate...

... who see how their skin tone, language, identity, gender, body type, sexual orientation, culture, type of relationships, and so much more is underrepresented or actively treated with hostility --

I'm so fucking sorry, and I - as many of us - understand completely why you feel that way, because it's absolutely valid. But I promise it's not how the majority of people feel about you. I know that doesn't make up for shit, but I do want you to know that most of us care a lot.

Nobody should stay in an environment where they feel like they're not wanted, or where remarks are made carelessly without regard for how hurtful stereotypes are. But if this has ever happened to you, be it out of ignorance (or at times malice), please know - your presence matters.

To everybody who has ever felt insecure about their kinks or liking smut... ...please don't. Seriously. Your kinks are what they are and they are completely fine. Liking smut is fine. Liking Pedro characters in smutty fic is fine too. Kink exploration in fic should be a safe space and respected.

Don't shame others here, especially not as an anon. Yes, certain topics that writers address in fic may be challenging for you for a number of reasons, but guess what? You don't have to read it! You don't have to dissect *why* someone wrote that! Don't like smutty fic? Cool, so don't wade into fics marked as explicit. Don't like certain kinks? That's cool, just read the warnings and skip fic when it doesn't appeal to you. Sure you're entitled to your own opinions, but you do not need to air them out in public or trash an author because you didn't like how they wrote something.

To everybody in this fandom...

... especially those of us who are white, able-bodied, straight, cisgender, had formal education, are a native English speaker, and/or many of the other privileges that a lot of us carry in our backpack every day:

We need to do better. Please. For so many reasons.

We need to be aware of our blind spots, biases, the fact that at times everybody fucks up - because we live in a racist, homophobic capitalist patriarchy -, and that occasionally means admitting we were wrong. That we unintentionally said something that was hurtful and that we're sorry for hurting people with our words. That ignorance can slip so easily into words that we type, and that the only way. But own up to it and please don't pull the 'I'm sorry you feel hurt' card - no. Take actual responsibility. Particularly when underrepresented voices explained to you why something is wrong.

And please, call out your friends on things like this - especially if you're white/straight/cis. It's your responsibility to speak up because you're closer to them. White people should be the first to call out racism; it's not up to the people that already are on the receiving end of prejudice (or worse, hatred) to fight that battle.

Exclusion doesn't only happen if you're actively spreading hate - it also happens by not taking accountability for when you fuck up, or when you are erasing and ignoring identities. If the word 'representation' doesn't mean much to you, that's probably because you constantly see yourself reflected in the stories and people in society (that, in itself, is privilege too) - and hey, good for you! But there are many of us who that doesn't apply to in the same measure.

I've had many conversations lately about this with fellow queers as well as brown/black/Latinx folks, so I really wanted to post this. Not as virtue signaling or whatever the hell, but because I know a lot of people are seeing and reading things that are understandably make them reluctant to engage.

So hey, let's do better and look after folks in our community whether we directly engage with them or not. The amount of comments that are always gushing about 'I love how Pedro cares about others/is an ally!' is very disproportionate to seeing similar support expressed for creators and fellow fans. Let's also not forget he's a Chilean man, the son of socialist refugees, who has always actively been on the barricades for LGBTQIA+, rallies against white supremacy and the toxicity of patriarchy -- so if you appreciate his dedication to 'causes', lets apply that to the very real people in this fandom too. And fyi, this isn't just about a single instance or a single person - it's so much bigger than that, and we all know it.

(oh, and if you feel like I'm being a moralist about this - feel free to unfollow or block my ass. You do you! I don't care. I care about the people here who don't want the community harmed by anons who get their kicks from being a bully.)

[krispycreamcake]

HALLO!!! could you do sakamakis with a ballerina s/o perchance ? ヾ(≧∇≦*)/

Sakamaki brothers with a ballerina s/o

Shu Sakamaki

🎻- Now because he's been alive for hundreds of years, he's seen the best of the best

🎻- And because of this, nothing you do could really pique his general interest

🎻- Wellllll ok maybe a little. He'll watch the first time around and have that image of you dancing so gracefully stuck in his head and he'll blame you for "keeping him up"

🎻- He wouldn't oppose you if you asked him to play the violin while you dance (he wants you to, so please ask)

🎻- Always shows up to your concerts, he would never miss it for the world

🎻- Slowly becomes your emotional rock since he knows the kind of pressure you're experiencing to please those around you

🎻- Since Shu is a leg man, let's say he likes to see you dance for a couple different reasons

Reiji Sakamaki

☕️- Your biggest fan ever, like I'm not even joking

☕️- LOOOOVES to see you dance and asks you to perform in private for him

☕️- Gives you pointers because he wants you to always succeed

☕️- Speaking of succeeding, he always books your auditions, makes sure you get there on time, have adequate practice sessions, etc.

☕️- Thinks you're so sophisticated and won't say it, but he thinks this makes you 10x more attractive

☕️- "How will you ever get the lead role with such shaky movements? Must I need to demonstrate every little thing for you?"

Ayato Sakamaki

🏀- Like almost everything else, Ayato takes pride in the fact that his s/o is a ballerina

🏀- I feel like his overall reaction would change depending on your gender tbh

🏀- For example, if you're a guy, he'd make fun of you for it until the day he sits in that crowded room and as the music blasts through, engulfing him in a sugary symphony, no matter HOW many people are on stage, all he can see is you

🏀- If you're a girl, he'd be more open to the idea and won't make fun of you as much, but that doesn't mean he won't tease you

🏀- Like Reiji, he also pushes you because he insists that you shouldn't have to settle for second place, or god forbid third

Laito Sakamaki

🃏- Yes yes we all know he makes perverted and out of pocket jokes about it

🃏- Finds ways to somehow include you being a ballerina to benefit him, ie flexibility

🃏- Aside from the obvious, Laito is very impressed with your ability to literally dance on your toes

🃏- He throws roses at your performances

🃏- "Don't get too cocky up there, remember no matter what, you'll always be my little bitch nfu~"

🃏- Aside from all the awe he has for you, he also has a side of him that thinks being able to move your body in such a fashion is a bit creepy

🃏- So if you ever wanna spook him, just weirdly articulate your body, trust

Kanato Sakamaki

🧸- Does your makeup for performances 100%

🧸- He loves seeing you dress in frilly pastel outfits

🧸- Gets violently jealous however, emphasis on violent

🧸- You should only be showing yourself off to him, not other people

🧸- He supposes however, that it just can't be helped, clipping a bird's wings will only make it wander about in life without a purpose

🧸- DO. NOT. piss him off before a performance, he WILL break your legs

🧸- Putting aside his violent outbursts, he thinks you're just the cutest thing ever and might even consider himself lucky that he wounded up with such a person as yourself

Subaru Sakamaki

🥀- Thinks it's cool

🥀- I wouldn't say he has strong opinions until he sees you actually perform

🥀- Like Ayato, his eyes would be glued to you all night

🥀- "I didn't realize you were that good- Of course I'm not saying it was anything special! Fuck off! Just be glad I even showed up to that stupid thing"

🥀- Honestly might doubt himself a bit and reasses his own self to see how compatible you guys are

🥀- After all, you're surrounded by talent all the time, it must be exhausting coming home to a lifeless monster like him right?

🥀- Please tell him that he's enough for you, he'll push you to be your best self if you let him know there's nothing to be worried about

🥀- Similar to Reiji and Ayato in that sense, but he knows when to quit and when to give you space

🥀- Think of those dads at their child's recitals where they always look peeved and they have that one dad pose where they sit and lean back with their arms crossed

🥀- That's him, but he's actually enjoying every moment of it

[marchsfreakshow]

Poems Of A Killer [James Patrick March]

Angst / suggestive at the end

You were always interested in how ghosts work. Your blog led you to The Hotel Cortez.

Oops I got inspired by @fear-is-truth 's James cai bot where you're trapped in his room bcs the conversations I had w that bot were delicious sorry.

Blogger!Reader

Words - 5.3k (holy shit guys-)

I went through hell and back for this fic I rlly hope it's worth it. I'm proud of it in the end. ♡

No one's perspective

⊹˚.⋆ ₊꒷ᘏᘏ︶ଓ︶꒷꒦⊹˚ᗢ₊꒷︶ଓ︶꒷

"So, ghosts roam these halls, correct?"

Liz was taken aback by your question. They weren't the first words she expected from your lips, but they were welcomed like an order to her bar.

"Why, yes, they do. You are, in fact, talking to a ghost itself."

A gasp and a smile graced your face just as the sentences were spoken. A real, proper ghost! How exhilarating. You immediately started to blurt out questions, scribbling Liz's answers down like they were your lifeline.

You spoke together for what felt like hours. 3 pages of full notes about ghosts, the hotel and the tasty history of such a place as this. One firm handshake and key exchange later, you were up in you room.

Scribbling down potential essay ideas for... well, for yourself. Most people would probably think you were crazy if you uploaded the essay to your blog. Then again, it wasn't a terrible idea. Most of your followers were believers in ghosts. They loved the paranormal and the un-natural things in life. In fact, an anonymous telling you about The Cortez was the reason for your trip.

'Hey! Your blog is probably the best paranormal blog out there! I know you're LA-based, so how about the Hotel Cortez? It's known to be haunted as fuck and plenty of the ghosts are apparentally staff members. Definitely go look if you're not busy! -🩷'

Obviously, you knew about The Cortez. Everyone in LA did. It was famous, but you never had an intent to go there. You read over the anon over and over until you figured you should.

1 car, 2 notebooks, 3 ballpoint pens, at least 4 books and a ton of music in your car's aux. You drove from one half of LA to the other, thinking about just how much this hotel might be with the likes of Lana Del Rey and Hozier playing from your car's speakers. Secretly, you hoped the ghosts of The Cortez would like you and would easily take to you. Just play it cool. Nice and kind.

Most ghosts easily spoke to you if you asked a question. Mainly, you asked about the spirits. Who ghosted, how, when, and why. There were plenty of stories to go around. Two influencers, frankly, you had never ever heard of. Two Swedes who always walked around in their underwear with a Mr.Woo at their feet. They were pretty weird, but you took their story anyway. You took a few more stories. Their births, their deaths and how they ended up dying here.

"You want to know about me, huh? My life... my... annoying death and how I ended up ghosting this fucking rotten place?"

"Yes. Everything. It will be worth it, I promise. Let's start with your name. What's your name?"

"...Sally." Sally started talking hesitantly about her life. The drugs she invested in, the sex she had to get them. Iris. How Iris pushed her off a roof in the nineties because of Donovan.

"Does Donovan ghost here? I could write a tragic tale of parents and child with him and Iris' stories combined." You chuckled, attemping to find some humour in Sally's words.

"No, he decided to fully fuck off when he died."

"oh... Okay." Still, you wrote it down. "Are there uh, any ghosts you wouldn't recommend I talk to?" You asked mutteringly, still writing down ideas and notes from what Sally told you. She took a long, harrowing drag from that cigarette of hers. Every time she did, you were convinced she was thinking heavily about the fact she was stuck here for eternity.

"uh, there's...someone. Won't show you him until he thinks you deserve it."

"Oh?"

She gave a little 'mhm' and a nod, taking another long, thoughtful drag. "You might've heard of him."

It clicked in your head and you smiled down at the words on your page. Scribbled like a school child's words. The founder of such a place. The, artist of a building like this. Every brick and decoration. "Mr. March." You breathed out quietly, gripping hard onto the pen in your fingers. You were convinced he was the ghost to ghost all ghosts. Whatever the hell that meant. "Oh, oh that would be a conversation for the ages.."

"Well I doubt you'll get anywhere...he doesn't show himself lightly." She bit back, quite defensive immediately.

The conversation about James led on for a few hours. One topic of his life at a time. Your notebook was almost full already. There was so many things you could explore with his story of his life. His childhood...how he started killing... God!

You read through your notes in the evening, laying on the frankly, uncomfortable and creaky bed. You weren't even moving and the springs broke and bounced under your body. How on earth were you meant to sleep on this bed tonight? It made a groan leave you as you eventually decided to open your laptop, writing your notes up into a document to work on in the morning.

As you slept however, without any notice from you, someone stood, reading over your open laptop. How did you find out his backstory? Who told you his childhood? Who decided to give you information about his kills and his relationship with the lady in the penthouse suite? "Mysterious thing aren't you?" He murmured, leaning down to look at your notebook.

The day ran away with you. You spent almost the whole day in Liz's bar typing away at your laptop. Liz kept your hunger and thirst up. Happily providing you with snacks and soda pop as long as you promised good promotion and more publicity. Well, your blog had 5k followers. Atleast 1k were active with your posts. Someone had to take the bait and visit the hotel. "Sooo, how's the writing going? Anyone find interest in the hotel yet?" Liz asked

"Huh? No, not yet. I'm still working on a first draft for your story."

"My story?"

"Yes!" You exclaimed, looking up at Liz with a proud grin. "I think this could really get queer and trans people in this hotel for Pride."

She almost chuckled, lighting a cigarette of her own. The idea of people who were queer or trans in any sense of the words, coming to this hotel because they knew they'd be safe, it warmed her heart. "How many stories do you have?"

"um, let's see... Sally's. Iris and Donovan's. A lady named Elizabeth March. You. Hazel Evers'..." You continued your list with the ghosts you had met so far.

"Quite the chatterer aren't you? Well, I'm glad everyone is comfortable enough to open themselves up to you. Usually they aren't so welcoming to strangers, wanting their stories.."

You shrugged slightly, confident about the fact that the ghosts opened up to you so easily. It made you want to be cocky, but you were keeping it up this way instead. "I spoke for hours to Sally. She told me basically everything. Oh I loved talking to her, truly. The way she knows everything about every ghost here...it's wonderful. This notebook..." You held up one of the notebooks you brought with you quickly. "Was empty when I got here! Empty! Now it's basically 70% full of stories. It will keep everyone on the blog fulfilled...for months!"

"Very nice, very nice. Another Dr.Pepper?"

"Yes! Please."

And yet you continued to write. Sometimes you'd squirm in place. Like something was burning the clothes on your back. It was mildly uncomfortable and odd, however, it was a feeling you'd gotten used to quickly throughout the night and the day. Maybe some ghosts didn't want to show themselves to you, refused to acknowledge the living. It seemed to be common and that was fine with you; another thing to add to the collection of stories about the undead souls here.

"Keep an eye on my laptop please Liz, I just remembered something." Liz agreed as you quickly got up and headed for your room. Maybe you left a pen, or you needed some charging block for your laptop.

"I find their energy, quite exhilarating, don't you?"

Liz shrugged a little. "If anything they're giving this place a little pep. I think publicity will do this place some good."

He nodded simply. "How long are they staying?"

"1 and a half weeks if memory serves me right."

"Hm." He hummed and then walked off, suddenly lost in some thoughts.

You went by him and you didn't even notice. Coming back with a charging block and the cable. Quickly, you plugged it in and immediately got back to work. Not speaking another word to anyone else in the bar. Liz's story was finished quickly, and you moved onto Sally's with unbridled haste. You were practically dead to the world, lost in the screen and the ghost's lives when they were alive.

It was probably your 5th day here when he decided to show himself to you. It was the evening. Your eyes were sore, tired and in need of break. Perhaps a full 8 hours sleep?

"Maybe, a break is needed?"

Your head spun around, and you made eye contact with him. "Oh. Um, maybe." Were the only words that left your mouth. Speaking without thinking. In your head, you weren't sure if you were making him up or if he was really there. "I'm almost done with a few stories though, and I just need to finish one up."

"Tell me, what are your stories about? I find myself intrigued by...your.." He paused, attempting to remember what you called that device that was on the table by your side. The thoughtful look on his face, mixed with your confusion dragged the silence on for a minute or two.

"um, laptop?" You said quietly after a moment, holding it up with a confused smile.

He nodded. "Of course. A, lap...top."

It almost made you chuckle. He must've been kidding...right? Then again, most ghosts here were either incredibly modern or were brand new to things like phones and laptops.

Oh you were so sweet looking... Bright eyed and bushy tailed is the phrase you would probably use. Either way, you agreed. In the back of your head you had this nagging to get atleast a little bit of sleep. Even just 4 hours would do. It made you sigh and nod, rubbing your sore eyes gently to make them feel less fuzzy. "I think..a break is due, actually." You muttered, closing the lid to your laptop and moving yourself away from the table.

He almost smiled. "That would be wise." Encouraging you to take a break and rest.

As you settled yourself into the uncomfortable bed, the springs digging into your side and legs, you glanced up at the man. "You look familiar. I do genuinely have a feeling I know you.." you murmured as your eyelids started to grow heavier. Taking a deep breath, you let your eye lids close, a start in attempting to get some sleep. Not like it would work well with the bed being as uncomfortable as it was.

The man kneeled down by your bedside, staring his dead eyes into your face as you attempted asleep. "I believe I am just the man you are looking for in this modern quest of yours." He said quietly. You hummed quickly as a response, not really listening to him. "...You are radiant when resting your eyes my dear."

James watched you sleep. Essentially.

He found himself intrigued by your reasoning for staying at the Cortez, and wanted to know more about you, yet never wanted to disturb your writing. Seeing your fingers work so nimbly against the keyboard and your eyes light up when you had finished one part was truly a beautiful spectacle. He had to have more. Have you as comfortable as possible in the hotel. Quickly, you were knocked out.

He brought you to his room, and everything you had brought with you. Courtesy of Ms.Evers of course. "Quite, pretty." He muttered, watching your unconscious body lie on his bed. Of course he would find you the most attractive when you've been knocked out... Ms.Evers gave a half hearted agreement. You were, a regular human to her.

Being a 'journalist' , as your dedicated followers called you, usually meant you were more observant. You noticed the stocked mini bar. The jumbled mess of your items on the bed next to you. What looked like a living room. And god, your head killed! It felt like someone was in your brain, trying to knock a wall down to escape or something. Fuck, it felt awful. Thank fuck the curtains were drawn though. "God...fuck me.."

"Ah, no need for such vulgar language. Here, some whiskey and medicine." He handed you a small glass of whiskey and two pills of paracetamol. Eugh..you didn't even drink Kopparberg, let alone something like whiskey. Your distaste for the alcohol was obvious to him, and it only made a slight laugh escape his lips. "I understand your distaste if you are not a drinker, however, this will only help you further."

Doubt that! Heavily...

Even though you turned your nose up to the whiskey, it was better than swallowing the pills dry. Begrudgingly, you picked up the small glass and took the pills out of his hand. "That headache of yours shall disappear in an instant, there is no doubt about that." He offered you a smile, and you only gave him a dull, neutral look before you placed the pills in your mouth. Deep breath. And you quickly shot down the whiskey, swallowing in one gulp.

Once you had gotten over the absolutely dreadful taste and burn in your throat, you blinked and looked back up. James Patrick March. Good...god.

He must've noticed the slight awe in your look. "I have, gotten used to that look in my time, yet it never fails to make me smile." James decided to take a walk around his room. "I hear you write for the modern world. You talk of the souls and the undead. Like the ones you have written for here. Even a story of me."

The silence lingered before he glanced back at you. Oh, right. You should talk. Respond with something. "Uh, yes I do. It takes me around the US. I went to a place called, uh, The Murder House. Lots of ghosts roam there and keep it clean. I um, it reminds me of this hotel." Nodding, hoping you weren't rambling about nothing.

You were so perfect. "Hm. Quaint. Tell me, what stories of mine have you collected?" James sat down by the table, already holding a glass of alcohol, swishing it around as he spoke. Swallowing some nerves, you adjusted on the bed and started talking his whole life story back to him. At one point, you got up and started reading back from your notebook. Every detail that you had been told about from the others here.

James was almost shocked by the fact you knew almost every detail. Almost. Some of them exaggerated parts to make him seem more intimidating to you. It only made him want you more. To keep you forever. Obviously, he wasn't going to tell you he wanted to keep you as his. No no... That would only scare you off. This was going to be difficult though. You were a, a blogger. Whatever that word was meant to mean. You needed to be outside more. With the stories you had collected, James suspected you could keep this blog of yours active for maybe a few months. Little white lies to add to the stories of the souls here, just to keep everyone interested. It had to work. Had to.

"...You truly are an interesting thing aren't you?"

You stopped your sentence at James' rehtoric question, and looked at him for a moment. A little blush appeared on your face, and a tiny smile almost ghosted your lips. One of your favourite rare compliments was being called interesting. "Oh, um...thank you Mr.March."

He almost smiled again, the faintest vision of lips turned up in the corners. "I find your formalities, almost unbearable. James shall be fine my dear."

"James..." Repeated softly. As if you were tasting a name. For the serial killer in front of you, 'James' tasted like old nicotine, alcohol and strong iron.

"I suggest it is a name you should get used to, I have a feeling you shall be here," he paused as he got up and walked a few steps towards you. Leaning down and looking in your eyes. "Until the last star in the sky has burnt out and crumbled this world to dust."

Time had lost its meaning. Sure, you could look at the date on your laptop and find comfort in that, but god, it felt like it didn't matter anymore.

Sighing, you rubbed your temples again before holding your face in your hands. "My dear, take a break from this bright screen. I have brought you something." James' voice cut off your scrambling thoughts as he reached over your shoulder and brought the lid to your laptop down. He had gotten used to it, even if he still didn't fully understand what it was. Looking up at James for a moment, you shifted in your seat to face him properly.

His rare gifts occasionally made you smile, but overall you were too focused on your writings to properly care. "Oh, um, what is it?" You asked as James placed the black box on your laptop. Great. Eventually, after some staring, you picked up the box. The box was velvet and had a white silk bow keeping it together. Well, at least he knew your taste. You pocketed the silk, definitely keeping it, just because. Gently peeling the lid off the box, there was a book. Seemingly homemade, shittily put together. It simply read 'Poems' at the cover.

James simply kept a sly smile on his face, watching your fingers work at opening the box up. Picking the small book up. He was desperate to see a new smile on your face, seeing how much you liked the effort he went through for this present. All he wanted was for you to like him. Not that you didn't have manners and didn't say thank you, obviously. Of course you did, that was just nice but never failed to make him happy and satisfied for the next few days.

Skimming through the book, you read a few words on each poem. They were, actually, decent. Pretty handwriting and sweet words on the pages. "Okay, James, this one is just Juliet's speech but with my name instead of Romeo's."

"Yes...A tragedy for the ages isn't it? I suppose the difference here is that I'm already dead. Haunting the hotel for eons to come."

"...You say that like you're planning to kill me James."

The silence was long. Uncomfortably extended. His hands were hesitating around the back of your neck. Like Patrick Bateman when he was hesitating to kill Luis Carruthers in the bathroom. It wasn't lost on you. "James?" The soft ask from your voice snapped the killer out of his fantasies, his hands retracting as you looked up and behind at him. Oh, that look in your eyes. Gentle fear, mixed with confusion and wonder. Such a look that internally melted James.

So, he had to lie. Keep you unassuming and unaware. "No, my hummingbird. I dare not harm you. The comparison of Romeo and Juliet is simply a sweet thing to keep you inspired. Keep your energies up as you write the stories you're here for."

"Ah, right. Well thank you James, I appreciate it." Nodding as you placed the book in the box, and shifting it away from the laptop. You needed to continue with a few stories, and if you got them done now. As much as you could get done while being stressed out and down with writer's block. Could journalists get writer's block? You certainly thought and believed so. It felt like it was killing you. You wished it killed you at this point.

That sleep was long, hazy and disturbed. There felt like there was a weight on your chest. Something pinning you down, keeping you as pushed down as possible. Well you certainly weren't going anywhere. You needed the rest. Even if it wasn't as amazing as the other nights. It was something, and not nothing.

Your night seemed longer than it already had been. The clock read 10am. Jesus, who let you sleep that long?! James kept waking you at 6 or 7am to try and keep up a firm routine for you. It was his way of caring for you, everyone told you. Making sure you had a routine and it was kept to whenever possible. He couldn't tolerate any slacking. "It will be good for you my dear, get your mind working at full speed again."

Staring at the bright laptop screen, the black words on a white page burned into your retinas, occasional blinking didn't help anything. It's not like you were particularly ignoring James, no... Your brain just felt, vacant I suppose you could say. It felt so empty and crushed, like every pure word of genius had been squeezed out of you. Milked for all it was worth and now only dust remained. James noticed this, of course, but didn't want to suggest anything. You just looked, so perfect and pretty. Dull eyes lit up by the white screen, your brain working on overdrive to finish a section of Donovan's story. If it were possible, he would have had someone photograph that moment, so he could look at it and find pleasure in your uninhabited mind.

The clock ticked. You watched hours go by. What was wrong with you? Usually you weren't like this. You weren't so... Still and figure like. Maybe you needed fresh air. Yeah, that might do you some good.

Shutting the lid to your laptop, you stretched to make sure you weren't going to seize up or anything before walking out of the room. Yawning as you headed down the halls, stood in the elevator for what felt like forever, and eventually headed for the door. "Ah, they do know they're-"

"They shall find out in their own time. Perhaps not letting them know of their death will make them inspired."

She stared at James with indifference. A hint of annoyance. The pair watched you take a deep breath and walk out of the door. Yet, you met yourself with confusion as you appeared back in the room you were staying in. "What on.." muttered before you took the same route. There was absolutely no way you were dead. No, this was definitely part of a dream. A really... Long... Deep... Dream. The repetitive walls only became tedious to look at with every heavy footstep.

You had heard of one such incident before. An attempt to leave proving fruitless until the right person came along. But, then again, Michael Langdon was dead. He could not save you like he did Queenie. Fuck. You wished he could though. However, you continued the loop. Time had lost it's meaning again.

"FUCK!" Erupted from your room and James only chuckled. He had felt a certain amount of satisfaction roll through his body at your screams of curses. Oh you were so cute. The killer figured you should have some alone time before he came to visit you. How much time had passed since you woke up again? It felt like days when realistically it was a couple of hours.

It was only a nightmare to you because you had bills to pay and a day job to go to. You couldn't call up your boss and go "hey, yah I'm a ghost now in The Hotel Cortez so I can't come into work. Sorry!" That was an insane idea and would only get you fired. Alright. C'mon, you're smart. You can figure it out.

You went over in your head for hours upon hours. Figuring out someway to tell others you had died without actually telling them and scaring them. But, you got it eventually.

Leaving you room hesitantly, you walked the long, exact corridors of The Cortez until you found Liz up in her bar again. "Ah, our resident journalist, how are you?" She asked with a small smile, wiping the bar top down gently.

A moment. Though, you found your voice and asked a question. "Is anyone here, who isn't a guest, actually, y'know alive?"

"Hm. Maybe. On what basis?"

"I'm dead."

"Yep."

You swallowed. You were.. dead. As the fucking doornails. Liz's agreement was just your verbal confirmation from someone else. You resisted the urge to scream fuck again. "Shit...okay. I just, I need someone to tell my boss that I'm dead. I can't really fucking tell him myself! That'd be crazy!" Liz stared at you for a moment. Then nodded, letting out a breath of cigarette smoke she had somehow acquired. Whatever pretend breath you were holding, you let out. Smiling as you rested your head on your crossed arms. "Oh thank you Liz... Thank you so much."

Quickly, you placed down your phone and opened it up to the contacts. Scrolling until you found your boss' number, then pressing call, handing it to Liz. The conversation was brief but informative. "Yes? Are you the boss?" She mentioned who she was calling for then continued. "I am the unfortunate one who must tell you that your beloved employee has shuffled off this world. This mortal coil could not, handle their pure love and devotion." She made you sound like a sweet sugar doll, which also caused your face to heat up until it felt like it was burning. That couldn't've been further from the truth in your head. But at least you tried.

After a few unintelligible mumbles from the phone, Liz hung up and handed the phone back to you. "Done. He sounded like he was devastated." Definitely an exaggeration.

"oh yeah totally. I was definitely his favourite employee..." You were not. The young new employees who were fresh faced 17 years olds were his favourites. There was an obvious connection there which you didn't want to think much about. It was gross and caused those younger employees to always get promotions before you. Fuck that. If that was what was happening now? You were glad you were dead. But, there was another question in your head. "Where...where is my body?"

"Slid down a chute."

"Fucking hell."

"Quite."

You let out long, dragging, throaty sigh. What on earth was there to say? No one tells you what it's like to be dead.

...

Tell a lie they do. Plenty of souls did. 'Thats' what you were there for. Talking to the souls of the Hotel Cortez, bringing their stories to light so people knew what the hotel was capable of. What horrors and extremities the hotel held inside. Like James. James was a devil.

Pure black soul inside and out. Nothing redeemable. Nothing good. You were sure the only reason he was nice to you was because of some fucked up version of lust he felt for you. Lust that had to be contained for years upon years. That serial killer was a man of tastes divine. Tastes that were fucked up and inevitable.

"Lost in thought.." Liz hummed, bringing you out of your thoughts. Glancing up at her, your eyebrows furrowed. "Thinking about Mr. March.. He has kept you here for eternity." Her words spoke wisely, and it made you feel insane.

"His poems are insane, Liz! T-they're nothing but old tales with the names changed to fit me and him! It's insanity!"

"It's love."

"It's fucked up is what it is." You ended the conversation there, standing up and walking away. Back up to your room, where there was a piece of fucked up, old looking paper ontop of your laptop. There was another poem on it. Seemingly original.

My dear,

You are exquisite.

My work of art.

A piece untouchable.

The stories you tell,

exhilarating.

The public will flock.

See how much time and love there is,

in a tall tale such as my own.

I do not say much,

In the terms of affection.

If you stay in here, however,

Next to me,

There may be a word i shall tell.

Bare me your soul, hummingbird.

There will be nothing to keep us apart.

- James Patrick March

"...what the fuck..?" You muttered a question, reading the poem over and over again. It was, well it was perfect. It was somewhat sweet, and telling of his personality.

The nickname, hummingbird, definitely struck something in you. It was so, nice. That was the only word you could think of. Nice. Somewhat flattering coming from the man who you supposed was your murderer. "My dear, you seem, somewhat flustered by the poem I have left for you."

Looking up, you stared right into James' eyes. The silence before you answered felt tense. Harsh and scared as your eyes bore into his. They were so dark. Black boba pearls that barely shined. There was nothing to say back to him. You scoured your mind for a response as you gripped the paper. Maybe too hard, as you felt your fingers dig into your palm. The paper crumbling up.

James walked towards you, eyes trained on the worry and the slightest shake of your fingers. "I haven't written anything since I was a young man I admit," He started, finally breaking eye contact. His hand met yours, placing down the crumbled and broken paper on the table. "But I hope it has satisfied since you feel so, aloof to the poems I had given you before."

"James..." You looked up at him from the paper, lips slightly parted. "I'm dead."

"That you are." Those three words of agreement felt somewhat unnecessary. "But one who died so eloquently. I almost, feel envious you died so beautifully my darling." His hand trailed up your arm, standing behind you as he spoke. Feeling you, making sure you knew how close he was to you. Gods, you felt so perfect to him. He was so glad he killed you.

"that... Weight on my chest.." You started, taking in deep breaths as one hand roamed you.

"That weight was me my hummingbird." He nodded, head dipping down to your neck. Despite being dead too, he took a breath that felt like an inhale. What he was addicted to. Needed to be addicted to. You couldn't leave, but even when you were alive, he didn't want you to leave. The undead addiction he craved to feel once again. It was a craving he could not satiate.

"You satiate me," James muttered into your skin. Your lips stayed shut, and eyes closed. While you barely had a response, it didn't matter to James. All you needed was to understand why. Understand the scribbled nonsense on paper in front of you. Letting James take. But you weren't giving. Not really. You were just, standing there trying to make sense.

"James..." You breathed out, head falling back against his shoulder. He smiled and let one hand fall to rest on your waist. They were so delicate compared to the rest of what James was about. It felt so, wrong. However, they felt in the right place. They felt so right, being placed so softly on your chest and your waist. What on earth could you do about this?

Letting the touches sink into your body. The coldness freezing your body. It made you shiver. It would've felt better if the both of you were alive. Warmth pressing against warmth... But no, you were cold. He was colder. Cold as dry ice. After a while it felt right.

Your positioning was that of Christine and Erik's. His hands holding you close to his chest, your hand over his, the other one hovering over his shoulder.

You were Christine. Naive, needy and talented.

He was Erik. A teacher. Smart and full of wit.

A phantom.

⊹˚.⋆ ₊꒷ᘏᘏ︶ଓ︶꒷꒦⊹˚ᗢ₊꒷︶ଓ︶꒷

Taglist: @lacucarachapisser / @vi0l3tluvsu / @strawb3rrystar / @bohnerrific69 / @xrag-dollx / @r4fe-cam3ron / @pajaaa2005 / @saintlucretia / @taintandviolent / @phantommoondoll / @american-horror-whore

[remember-the-fanfics]

I loved your gen-z!overlord! headcannon! What about the same character X Alastor or X the Vees! I liked how you wrote a bit about the character with Rosie!

Added Carmilla for funies

Alastor

• You constantly make fun of his oldness when he moved to the hotel

• He finds you entertaining and annoying, would've killed you in the beginning if Rosie wasn't already found of you.

• Thought you had the same idea with the hotel.

• Figured out quickly when he brought it up and you got pissed at him.

• Bounds over his interests of the chaos you make.

• Found out his disinterest with relationships and more physical stuff quickly

"Oh so you're AroAce? Cool."

"What are the words you just say?"

• Trying to get him to know what certain slag is from your time, nows use it incorrectly to fuck with you.

• Minus after his tussle with Pentious.

"I yeeted him, correct?"

"Ahhh! Yes! Ahaha!"

• Shown you some Overlord powers that you had no idea that you had.

• Accidentally blow up the wall a few times.

• Calls you dear child or little annoying one. Depends on his mood.

• Calls him old man to annoy him or weird ass deer man when he pissed you off.

• Decided you're a good allie after finding you laughing at what he did with Vox.

"The TV was buffering, that was really funny and good."

"Thanks for the compliments, my dear.

• Didn't change the fact when you were ready to kill him for making a deal with Charlie.

The Vees-

• The only one you on the good side is Velvette

• Vox and Valentino just keeps nice with you not to get Velvette pissed at them.

• You've tried to change the channel on Vox's face once. You're not allowed to hold any remote when visiting anymore.

• You made fun of Vox after his fight with Alastor.

"You were buffering! Guess you overheated?"

"Oh fuck off."

• Have a business deal for your territory to get Vox's stuff for cheap.

• Told him about the advancement that happening before you died.

• And had to endures something for him after Velvette dressed you up.

"Hating everything right now."

• But he is the only one that makes TV or well anything with Technology

• Everyone keeps you away from Valentino after you heard how he treats Angel Dust.

"I just want to talk with him, I just want to kill him."

• You had already didn't like him anyway.

• Creepy ass Moth motherfucker is the only 'nickname' you call him

• Valentino enjoys making you uncomfortable

• If he cross a line, you are killing him

• But then he holds Angel Dust soul above you so you don't actually kill him.

• Doesn't mean you wouldn't hurt him

• He eventually tries not to cross the line, tried of getting beaten by a child according to him.

• Velvette is the only reason you vist, mostly to her studio.

• Being a backup model when she wants you too, only in private.

• Refusing to actually model infront of people.

"I would die... again."

"Don't be dramatic about it."

• Gives you clothes that are in at the moment if you hang out in public

• Understand most of your references

• Willing to fuck someone up if they give you a weird look when she's with you.

• They all hates that you go to the Overlord meeting

• Does enjoy when you spill some tea about what happens

• You're cool enough to associate with the Vees but not enough to be one, not that you would join when you only get along with one and half of them.

Carmilla Carmine-

• Has a motherly instinct with you even though you're powerful enough to be an Overlord.

• You mostly come over to hang out with her daughters, whose usually busy working so you end up helping them.

• Ends with her mothering you when she mothers her daughters.

• Teaches you how to fight after seeing fighting so recklessly.

• Only because someone tried to fight you when her and her daughters were around.

• One of the Overlords that has been in your territory, enjoys how you keep it orderly.

• Surprised with how you run your deals and with how many Sinners come to you for help.

"Oh that was less than normal, you probably scared a few of them away."

• Makes sure your kindness isn't viewed as weakness to anyone.

• Doesn't let you cause any chaos in her presence.

• She gives you a stare that reminds you of your own mother/guardian.

• Causing you to stop before you even start.

• Odette and Clara enjoy your company, reminds them of a less annoying sibling.

• Checks up on you after exterminations, will invite you to wherever they hide but you don't usually don't leave your territory during

• Doesn't like that you get along with Velvette or any of the Vees.

• You were there when the exterminators showed up, ready to go all demon on them to buy time before Camilla showed up, Clara and Odette had to make sure you didn't still tried to fight by pulling you away with them.

• Sheltering them in your own hiding place for the rest of the time.

• Sworn to secrecy, by a pinkie promise.

"Thank you for being ready to defend my daughters at any cost."

"It was no big deal, you showed up before anything actually happened."

• You only showed up because you knew where they were hiding and saw how it quickly went to shit.

• She tried to get you to promise not to do that again, you denied it.

"If that ever happens again, I'll do it in a heart beat. So I can't."

• Realizes quickly you wouldn't let anyone mess with people you call your friends

• Even if meant facing certain death by angels.

[lostbetweenvampiresandmusic]

Would you do headcannons for poly lost boys with formerly involved in mafia reader? TIA

Yes, of course! I hope you like this 💜

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

The boys have been around for a long time, so they have seen people in all shapes and forms, from all backgrounds - so when I'm telling you they knew you weren't as innocent as you claimed to be - they knew.

It wasn't necessarily that you didn't act convincingly, no, anyone else in the boardwalk - including Max - definitely thought you were just a young twenty-something year old, looking for a new start.

The boys, however, noticed. They noticed you had a way of getting things to go your way. They noticed some people were somewhat scared of you for seemingly no reason. They noticed that you walked as if you were hiding a weapon - which you most likely were.

They were subtle things, and they wouldn't necessarily know exactly what it was you were lying about, but they knew you weren't just coming to Santa Carla for a fresh start and the carefree life the town seemed to offer.

They knew you were running from something.

Obviously you had seen them around, you knew they were following you, you talked sometimes - but you didn't really know them yet.

That only happened after they saw you made a kill. Someone from your past followed you to Santa Carla and threatened to expose you to the cops. Obviously, you couldn't have that. You shot him, once, straight through the forehead.

The boys saw.

And they were impressed.

When you noticed they were there you immediately turned your gun to them, not wanting to have any loose ends, but David stopped you before you could shoot.

"Nice shot."

"I should fucking kill you. How much did you see?"

"Enough to know that we do a better clean-up than you could. Need a hand?"

And that was that. Initially they didn't ask what you were or why you shot that man, but when it happened a third and a fourth time you decided you kind of owed them to tell the truth. Besides, they'd told you what they were. They'd felt the need to explain why they knew so much about cleaning up crime scenes.

They are surprisingly chill about it. David doesn't care, as long as you are safe now.

Dwayne wants to know more of what kind of work you did within the organisation, mainly so he knows whether you might have any subconscious triggers or traumas he needs to look out for.

Paul just thinks it's cool, and offers to get you some more weapons that fit your vibe ans aesthetic more.

Marko is the only one who is not even a little surprised. He has known since the first time he saw you, and no one believed him one bit. He saw the edge of a tattoo of yours, recognised the symbol, and that was that. He is now on a mission to figure out what your name was - simply because he wants to know if you were more badass now or back then.

You get free clean up if you make a kill.

They are way more chill and relaxed with you because you have proven over and over that you can in fact handle yourself.

Also, you got yourself four very protective bodyguards if you'd ever get threatened.

Staying at the cave means you are living off the radar for the main part, meaning hardly anyone can find you.

Finding a home where you can just unapologetically be who you are. It's awesome.

[httpsghostie]

Under one Roof pt 1

pt 2

OK finally IT'S HERE

smh I'm down bad for roommate ghost I am sobbing

my hand is literally burning I wrote this aT COLLEGE

and YES my love language is food pls dont come for me

Summary: you never knew you needed a military roommate until you've got one.

Word Count: 1k (sorry it's short

Warnings: roommate!ghost x female!reader, slightly suggestive (if you squint), mentions of trauma, fluff/comfort, no use of y/n

masterlist

Ghost was an old friend of a friend of yours, and he happened to be needing a place to stay for a while, that ended up being a few more months, and now it's currently been a year since he moved in. He doesn't plan on leaving, you know it, you know that despite the independent man that he is, he likes having someone to come home to.

He was cold at first, so cold. And for many nights you cursed yourself for letting that rock of a heart get into your sweet home. He wouldn't talk much when he was there, you'd almost forget he was around if it wasn't for random coughs or sneezes.

That man smoked like a chimney in the first days he's spent around, he was anxious and that wasn't very cute, he was always smelling like cigarettes, but thankfully he didn't smoke inside.

He appreciated your effort on cooking for the two of you, but you couldn't help it. How could he survive when he wasn't eating properly? Yes, frozen pizza is cool… until it's the third day in a row that you're eating frozen and instant food and you can barely stand.

He also had a fucked up sleeping schedule that you just went along with it, you once got scared when you walked in the kitchen and found him just laying on the wall, eyes closed and snoring slightly. That day you scolded him to go back to his room and made him lay down on the bed.

"You're gonna lay down on this bed and you're gonna have some nice hours of sleep, alright? I'm gonna leave the door open, if I see you awake I'm punching you." You sounded like a mother, almost, and he was so tired he couldn't fight back.

And the days went by, he'd go away, he'd come back as tired as he left. But at least he was slowly opening up to be a really cool guy. You two started to bond, and the more he talked, the more you wanted to spend time with him.

Oh and don't even get started on dad jokes, he's cracking them up whenever he's helping with house chores, or when you two are eating peacefully.

He became a friend, a very good friend, one that wouldn't mind you venting out to, plus he was a good listener. He'd just sit there listening to whatever haze your brain was going through, and slowly he learned that he shouldn't be giving you reasonable ways to solve your problems, he should just tell you it would be ok.

And you found yourself slowly falling for him. Of course destiny had to put you together. Only if it wasn't for the way he handled things around the house.

"Oh, the living room lamp broke? Let me fix it."

"Those boxes are heavy, hand them to me."

"Go find a movie for us to watch, I'll do the dishes. Find a good one, though."

"Goddamnit, I told you not to be climbing on that fucking balcony, you're not a cat, you're gonna hurt yourself one day." Said as he picked you up when you were trying to reach the top of the cabinet. "Just ask me, I can reach it without putting myself in danger."

Or maybe if it wasn't for the fact that he'd purposefully get out of the shower with that pretty little towel wrapped around his body, that made you clench your fists. The way he was still a bit wet, a few drops running down his abs. He was surprisingly cool with his scars around you, maybe because you didn't make a big deal out of it.

That's because it wasn't. You expected that when Gaz, your friend, told you that the friend he was sending to you was his 'work buddy'. And he phrased it exactly like that. 

"Don't mind him, he's big and scary, but he'll be a good roommate, I promise, he's my work buddy." You chuckled when you read the text.

And yet Ghost didn't mind the stare of admiration coming from your burning gaze across the living room, when you thought the most ungodly things a brain has seen.

He started to become more and more warm, he found safe with you, like you could actually be his home. One night, he found a deep conection with you when you were casually drinking together, sat by the coffee table, playing video games. 

She should know the truth about me.

He thought. And that was the night he dropped his heavy armor. He told you the bare surface of his past, even though most of it had been blocked from his memory, like a dark spot he couldn't remember, and would die without trying to take a peak at it.

You cried, and he couldn't understand why you were crying until you said it wasn't his fault.

"It's not your fault, you didn't deserve any of this." You sobbed, hugging him close.

He broke down. Like he needed someone to reassure him that he wasn't the villain from his past. He realized what you meant to him, and he swore to God he would try his best to come home to you when he had to work.

Some days were strange after that, like he regretted telling you about his story. He had that feeling in his gut that you weren't looking at him the same way, like you were pity. He didn't want your pity, he hated that look on your face.

But that changed.

He had come home one day, texting you while he was at the airport waiting for a ride. You ran to get groceries and make him a good meal, but the only thing that came to your mind was the old recipe of lasagna you kept from your grannie.

That old lady, always saving your life.

[brutus-isnt-avalible]

a wip for my rexmark fic im working on

Mark grunted as he held up the crumbling half of a tall apartment complex, his hands bleeding and throbbing with a terrible pain.

"You can't save it Mark. Let it go-"

"I got it Cecil! I- ... got it-" the heel of his palm slipped, scraping off the concrete and he held it up with his forearm instead.

"You're not your father. If you let go you won't kill those people-"

"Cecil I said- shit shit!" he let out a yell as he pushed up the building with as much strength as he could muster.

"Drop the building. That's an order!"

"I can't! You know I can't!"

"Drop the goddamn building Mark!" And for some reason, whatever reason, he did.

It came tumbling down and Mark flew to the ground. He grabbed as many people as he could and moved them out of the way.

A large pink wall flew under the building before it hit the ground, he looked in the direction it came from and sighed with relief.

"Get them out of here! I can handle it!" Eve shouted to him, letting out quick strained grunts.

Rex stood not too far away, watching the building collapse and didn't move. No matter how many people ran past him or bumped into him he didn't move. The blood of innocent civilians dripped off his face as he watched his apartment crumble, the only thing keeping it from being completely destroyed was Eve's pink support that was bound to break any second now, it was already cracking.

Mark ran to grab him but halted. "Rex what are you doing? I- I thought you were on enemy control?" Mark panted, his body trying to work against him.

"That's my fucking house, dipshit!" he yelled at no one in particular. His fists shaking with adrenaline, an awkward lump grew in his throat as tears poked at his eyes.

~~

"I get it man, it's fine, seriously, just stop apologizing" Rex said as they walked back into the main room of the Guardians HQ. He took off his mask and threw his glasses -- well what's left of them anyways -- to the side and sighed as he sat on the floor, meeting everyone else. "Shit happens it's.." he sighed and lied on his back, stretching his arms out in either side of him and let out a quiet 'oof' sound as he hit the ground.

"I- I can let you stay with me? My mom wouldn't mind and we can share my room" Mark fumbled with his hands nervously "Or I can just sleep on the couch since ya'know-"

"Yes Mark. I do, in fact, know. That doesn't sound like a bad idea though.." he sat up, leaning on his hands behind him. "Yeah sure, fuck it. I got no where else to be" he shrugged and stood up, pushing Mark through the doors.

Mark set Rex down gently infront of his door "Now, all I asked is that you don't show Oliver your powers, please"

He opened up his front door, letting Rex inside first.

"Mom! I'm ba-"

"Mark!" Oliver flew from the backyard straight into his brothers arms. "We saw you in the news! I wanted to go over and help but mom told me to stay" he pulled away with a pout and crossed his arms.

"It's for the best Oliver. A lot of people lost their lives today, it was really scary" he patted him on the shoulder "Maybe next time, okay?"

Rex began wondering around halting for a second before taking off his shoes by the front door -- it's what the new Rex would do! -- and continued to wander.

"Are you a superhero too?" Oliver asked in awe, staring up at Rex.

"Hell yeah I am kid!" he went to go reach for something not that meaningful. A small pebble or a leaf from on of the fake plants maybe but stopped himself and looked at Mark who was busy talking to his mom. He bit the inside of his lip and thought to himself for a moment.

He instead snapped his fingers and a spark of a hot electricity traveled through his hands, Oliver gasped and grabbed his hand.

"Woah! So do you have like electricity powers or something? That's so cool!" Oliver kept asking questions but instantly continued rambling on about how "Viltrumites don't get electricity!" or "So can you give yourself rocket boosters?" and went on and on about how he wished he could rocket boosters.

"Oliver, let's give out guest some space for a moment. He's had a stressful day" Debbie interjected. Rex didn't mind his excited ramblings though.

"Mark told me about what happened, how are you holding up?" she asked as she brought him to the kitchen, pouring him a glass of water.

He was taken a bit back by her kindness and didn't know how to respond.

"I- well I guess i've been pretty shi- crummy-" he laughed nervously, trying to mind his manners.

DO NOT REPOST/TRANSLATE ANYWHERE. YOU DO NOT PERMISSION

@cupids-artist

[rowie264]

Why Timebomb shouldn't exist in s2 (part 1 - Ekko)

Let's start by analyzing his character. Don't you think there's something wrong here, to put it mildly? Of course, I'm laughing at jokes about the fact that you can't call any character absolutely good in Arcane except for Ekko, but… Don't you think this is a problem? Ekko has no flaws at all. If he didn't have difficulties as the story progressed (and there aren't many), he would literally be Mary Sue.

And okay, even though I find characters without flaws completely unrealistic and boring, it's possible to work with this. Let Ekko be a good guy. Just give him a good conflict and it will be enough to make him interesting to watch.

But there are problems here too. What conflicts does Ekko have?

Chembarons. It's clear with Silco, he died in s1, and this conflict is half gone. But only half, because other chembarons want to take his place. The development of this topic could serve as a good disclosure of Ekko's character. His confrontation with shimmer and Silco in the hope of changing Zaun for the better with his defeat will endow him with flaw - naivety (this is just speculation, because we don't know if Ekko knew that eliminating Silco wouldn't have changed anything - we can only see that how he sighs at this information in s2 ep2). But making him naive is good, because it would give him an opportunity for growth and an additional character arc, because the question arises - what will he do? Fight against the "bad guys" as before or change his approach? Will he get his hands dirty or will he find a "better way"? Perhaps he will try to unite Zaun? Maybe he'll become a chembaron himself, but as a good chembaron? Well, we won't find out, because thanks to Caitlyn for doing all the dirty work - this conflict disappeared on its own.

The Tree. Ekko's personal arc in the s2, which is just drained down the toilet. And no "he ended up in another timeline and then there was a war" is not an excuse, because his entire motivation in s2 is based on this conflict. He starts his journey precisely because of the Tree, but they brushes it aside for the sake of fanservice and a more global plot. Lack of timing is not an excuse for the same reason - fanservice in another timeline is not needed for s2. Exploring Tree and firelights would give a lot of information about Ekko himself. How did he become a leader? Was there anyone who was against his leadership? What personal connections does he have with firelights (friends, mentors, etc)? One such small flashback could reveal his character much more than the entire ep7.

Piltover. Weeeeell, since we have been ignoring the topic of Piltover oppressing Zaun for decades, this conflict disappears by itself. We have more important things to do, like fighting an army of creepy robots and Arcane Jesus.

Jinx. Fucked up on all fronts. Cheap fanservice with alternative Powder instead of revealing his complicated relationship with our Powder/Jinx. I'll explain more later.

In total, we have: Ekko, a character who has not been fully revealed, who does not have depth like other characters (shown on the screen, rather than having to figure it out by ourselves) and whose conflicts either resolve themselves or are forgotten. It was more important for the creators to devote time to the fanservice than to reveal Ekko as an individual and close his personal arcs. Moving to another timeline cuts off the possibility of revealing his relationship with other characters besides Heimerdinger (yes, with Jinx too, but more on that later). But there's also a problem with Heimerdinger, because well, he's so small and fluffy and has a cool mustache, and that's probably why Ekko completely ignores the fact that Heimer was a councilor to the city who had been oppressing Zaun for decades (seriously, Ekko doesn't bring up this topic and has no complaints about Heimer, because creators deliberately omitted this conflict, forgetting that it is illogical for the character as Ekko).

Part 2 - Jinx Part 3 - Relationship

[tactical-jellyfish]

Breakup day drabble! (Part one: Johnny)

I missed Valentines day, I know. I planned to feed you guys but I ended up sleeping fourteen hours almost consecutively. Sorry gang, my bad.

This is gonna be a longer drabble, split into parts for each Tf141 member (and others, if requested and I can write for them), and one final poly breakup (separate from the others, obvi). I haven't fed y'all and I feel like an absent father lmao

Warnings!: Big sad. Yelling (it is VERY regretted), terrible boyfriends (all four of them are fumbling the bag like CRAZZYY)

Also I wrote this tired as fuck, so if I made any oopsies here, absolutely correct me <3

You've got no issue with a little fire in a partner. In fact, it's something you've come to seek out as you grew up.

It's only logical, isn't it? You need someone who can keep up, someone who's not going to be holding you back from getting orders out of the way.

Work hard, play harder.

Of course, you liked Johnny for many more reasons than just that one.

He was an absolute sap at just the right state of drowsiness, he drew you like you were a downright deity, he... he really fucking cared.

You didn't regret making it official, getting to know damn well that Scot was yours when the day was over and it was time to sleep.

That being said, every relationship has its rocky patches, and you've got the feeling you're about to be in the middle of an ugly one.

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

You don't regret making the call. Not even a little bit.

This mission wouldn't have made time if you hadn't buckled down and pointedly ignored both Johns in your headset calling you a moron in a strained whisper from cover.

The objective was secured. There were a good chunk less terrorists in the world because you put them down. A little gash in your side, but that's no issue, so you'd deem it successful.

Unfortunately, Johnny doesn't seem to think the same way. You can feel the roiling, stirred-up and not calming back down like usual.

You let him stew on the flight back to base, quietly bandaging your own wound with a small antiseptic wipe Gaz had wordlessly put into your hand when he first saw you trotting up.

Price is tired, but he's not as upset as he used to get over this sort of stunt from you. It's a fatherly sort of exhaustion, you're half-sure at some point he said that you're giving him gray hairs.

You earned three days' work cleaning the bathrooms for snorting, but no more. You would have earned many more days if you asked if he was finally going soft, even if he was.

Still, after a few hours, Johnny doesn't seem to have cooled down. He's pointedly silent, fuming in his little corner.

It takes a special sort of bitchiness to make Ghost look like a put-together, social man. You've long accepted that your man is a little bit of a child on occasion.

So, as any reasonable partner would, you leave it alone. Let Johnny sort though these feelings, because you know he doesn't want to hear it from you right now. If he wanted to talk, he could ask.

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

Well, lo and behold, it only took five hours.

The knocks on your door are familiar. A three-beat rap-tap-tapping. Firmer than usual.

"Luv? You ready to talk about it now?"

You open the door to a sight. Not a great one, mostly because you know it shouldn't make you giggle a little.

A grown-ass man. Not just that, a sergeant, pouting.

"Bayonet."

He must see the way your brows pinch at your callsign being used instead of your name, but Johnny doesn't do a thing to stop himself.

"Are ye feckin' stupid, or jus' having a little craic on the clock?"

"Callsigns stay at work, Johnny. Unless you've got full intentions of this being a professional meeting."

That long-standing agreement was something you really did like. Johnny had agreed to use it a long time ago, and the only lapses (before this one, of course) were simple mistakes, easy to excuse and forgive.

"Och, this is professional alright, what the fuck were ye thinking?!"

His voice is raising, but it brings no fear, just annoyance.

"If I have to remind you, it worked. We wouldn't have made it back to Nik on the clock if I hadn't. No major injuries, either."

Johnny's starting to fume. His brows are knitting together, usually-bright face drawing down into some ugly mixture of anger and something else you don't quite have a word for right now.

"Are ye actually-"

"MacTavish, it fucking worked. I only take risks when I know it's something I can handle, and frankly, if you're upset about me doing my job, then you should handle it the way we agreed to handle it."

Calmly. Slowly working through the issue, training together, anythinig as long as it wasn't a screaming match or a contest. Not this.

"You're a fucking liability is what I'm trying to tell you! Your callsign is Bayonet fer a feckin' reason, you daft cunt!"

You're not sure who made him think he could talk to you like this, but he just. Keeps. Going. It makes your chest heat to a fever, though you keep your face measuredly ice-cold, flat so Johnny can't gleam anything from your expression.

"Ye're a gamble at best, a last resort, ye should'ave stayed off the line an' let someone else handle it! Ye got hurt because you dinnae listen to th' orders!"

Ohhhhh, that's not professional anymore. A slight on your own callsign, when he wasn't even there to see you earn it.

Asshole.

"Watch it, Soap." Is the only warning you can bring yourself to offer, glaring into those baby blue eyes with the vitriol provoked by the man before you.

"Nae, ah'm not gonnae watch it! Ye pull shite like this, an' I have to come o'er an' pretend I wannae patch yer stupid arse back up!"

You've never been in the business of cutting someone off before they can finish their sentences, but you're starting to doubt your ability to be civil.

Soap's refusing to meet you on any agreed-upon grounds, he's not separating your relationship from work and that's a slippery slope.

And you're fucking upset. This anger isn't something you can tamp down, it's the worst kind.

The sort that twists you in the guts and makes your eyes hot. The sort that makes a headache sparkle to life and the small wound in your side throb and ooze into the bandages a little bit more.

The sort that makes you want to scream. But you won't do that. Not to Soap.

"This isn't how we agreed to handle conflicts. Come back when you can sort your feelings enough to keep yourself from screaming."

Icy, you know it is, but Soap grabs the door before you can finish.

"Close this fucking door on me, and I will skin you." The threat rings hollow. Oddly similar to the sound of the plywood door sliding shut.

Soap moves his fingers away just before they gain a set of new joints in all the wrong places.

There's a frustrated growl, and a series of footsteps thumping away, in the direction of the gym.

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

You slept awfully that night.

The frustrated tears cleared easy, but the anger itself didn't, because really, how dare he. Showing up to your space, calling you a dunce, and breaking the most fundamental rule of your relationship.

Luckily, a small ping pulls you from the continuation of this spiral. A text from one Kyle "Gaz" Garrick.

What did you put up Soap's arse? Just asking.

You snort.

Nothing. Reckon he'd be in a better mood if I had.

The three dots appear, vanish, reappear before you get a response.

He's being a cunt today. Think you should steer clear.

That dampens the mood a bit, but again, it's not too far from your expectation. Johnny had his feelings big, and loud. It was honestly overwhelming sometimes, but you'd learned to handle it over time.

You hated it most when he made issues he had with you a team issue.

Girls' night then? I got that oil for your hair

...I'll bring the bonnets

You smile despite yourself, and rise from bed to get yourself ready for an easy day.

Unfortunately, the next notification is one you miss until you come back to your room, exhausted but satisfied after writing the mission's postmortem.

I'm done wie yer shite

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

Most of the "girls' night" Kyle wanted to share with you is making sure you don't cry so hard you pull your stitches.