#anyway i'm sure i lost brain cells over this

[wavesoutbeingtossed]

.

[leclerc-hs]

hard deck - cl16

pairing: pilot!charles leclerc x f!reader summary: in which your best friend's other best friend hates you OR charles is in love with you and he fucking hates that he is. warnings: language, bad writing (honestly, I think I'm in a bad phase rn and everything I write sucks), NOT PROOFREAD, smutttt (short but 18+ pls) word count: ~3.6k author's note: I'm gonna say I genuinely have no idea wtf I just wrote. its kinda shitty and for that I apologize. I'm still trying to get back into the groove of writing again bc it's been SO long. anyways xoxo

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

“God, do you ever just shut up?” Charles watches you with irritation, his brow furrowed as he takes a long swig of the amber liquid in his class. The tension hangs thick in the air, his frustration palpable.

He swallows hard, the alcohol clearly his refuge at this moment, a desperate attempt to calm the urge to shove you down the nearest flight of stairs. You can see the conflict brewing behind his eyes, a storm of annoyance and something else— perhaps regret?

No way. Charles ‘Perceval’ Leclerc would never regret being mean to you.

You send him the hardest glare you can muster, swinging your legs to the side of the chair before coming to a stand. “Are you ever not a fucking dick? Seriously how do you have friends?”

“Why? You need tips on how to get some?”

“Perceval!” Carlos gives him a disapproving look, “Cut it out.”

“Me?” His eyes widen in astonishment as he points his fingers to himself in question. “You were thinking it too. You just can’t say it because she’s your childhood friend.”

“Seriously, hermano.” Carlos sighs. “Leave her alone.”

“Don’t sweat it Car,” You mutter, your voice low and casual as you lean against the edge of the table. “I’m moving over there.” You point towards a few of your friends gathered around the dart board.

Carlos’s expression shifts, his eyes widening in that endearing way that always makes you chuckle. “No, stay.” He pleads, giving you the best puppy dog eyes he can muster, complete with a slight pout that would make anyone’s heart melt. “Charles will stop. Right?”

With a playful swing of his arm, he hits Charles in the ribs, the impact harder than necessary. Charles winces dramatically, clutching his side as he shoots Carlos a mock glare, his lips curling into a frown.

“Whatever.”

You make a stupid face of mockery, scrunching your features and sticking out your tongue in the most absurd way possible. Childish? Sure. But damn, it felt good.

Carlos bursts into laughter, his eyes sparkling with amusement as he nearly doubles over. “What even was that? A dying fish?” He jokes, wiping a tear from his eye.

Charles just rolls his eyes, “Seriously? I’m losing brain cells just being around you, Bug.” He retorts, but theres no real annoyance in his voice— just teasing.

Bug. That forsaken nickname he gave you seemed to stick. Even went so far to be your call sign. Probably called you it because he associated you as a pest. But he really meant it as an endearing way. Not that he would ever admit it.

-

You and Charles stand in front of a model fighter jet, the sleek design gleaming under the bright lights, its metallic surface reflecting the excitement in the room. The imposing aircraft, with its sharp lines and polished finish, feels almost alive, and the air is thick with the thrill of aviation.

“Seriously? You think you could handle flying that thing?” you tease, crossing your arms and leaning against the display. Your smirk is playful, but there’s a challenge in your tone.

“Absolutely Bug,” he replies, leaning in slightly, confidence radiating from him. “I’d be soaring through the skies while you’re down here, probably tripping over your own feet.”

“Please,” you scoff, rolling your eyes with a dramatic flair. “You’d probably get lost on the runway, looking for the nearest snack bar instead of focusing on takeoff.”

“Lost? In a fighter jet?” He raises an eyebrow, a smirk dancing on his lips. “I’d be the one pulling off the real maneuvers while you flounder around in the backseat, screaming like a scared kitten.”

“Real maneuvers?” You chuckle, shaking your head. “Like what? A graceful belly flop?” You lean in closer, narrowing your eyes playfully. “I can just picture it now: Perceval, taking a nosedive to the nearest ice cream stand.”

He leans back, arms crossed, clearly enjoying the banter. “Well, at least I’d crash in style. You’d just be a mess, splattered all over the tarmac.”

“Whatever P.”

-

Your voice is the first thing Charles hears, cutting through the fog of sleep. He drags his pillow over his face with a groan, trying to block out the sound, but it only muffles your words.

Do you ever leave Carlos alone?

Charles has successfully avoided you for a whole four days. Probably the longest he’s gone since he met Carlos all those years ago.

The smell of coffee wafted through the air eliciting a groan from him. 

Coffee. Yes.

Charles makes his way to the kitchen, sleep still clinging to his eyes, his hair a wild mess that seems to have taken on a life of its own overnight. The loose grey sweatpants hang loosely off of his hips, giving him that effortlessly disheveled look that somehow works in his favor.

You lean against the counter, a mug of coffee in hand, and can’t help but smirk at the sight. “Wow, you really went all out this morning Sleeping Beauty, didn’t you?” You tease, trying to suppress a laugh.

He squints at you, trying to focus through the remnants of sleep, but it takes him a moment to fully register your presence. You stand there in a large t-shirt that hangs loosely around your frame, the fabric slightly wrinkled, and Charles can’t help but feel a rush of annoyance mixed with something else— something that sets his skin on fire.

The fact that you’re clearly wearing Carlos’ shirt bothers him more than he’d like to admit. “Seriously? Carlos’ shirt?” He finally manages to say, his voice still raspy from sleep.

You glance down at the oversized tee, a playful smile creeping onto your face. “It’s comfortable.”

“Who are you to judge my look, when you’re wearing that.” He defends himself, but can’t help but feel a little flustered. “At least they’re not borrowed from someone else.”

You laugh, and the sound only makes his annoyance deepen. “What? Are you jealous of Carlos’ clothes?”

“Not at all.” He replies, his tone more serious than he intended. “You could just wear something that actually fits you.”

You take a step closer, a playful challenge in your gaze. “And what would you suggest, P?”

“Honestly, I’d prefer you in something that’s not associated with him at all,” He blurts out before he can stop himself.

-

Life was weird.

You and Charles had gone from full-on arguments that filled the air with tension to this strange dance of tip-toeing around one another. It was a shift you hadn’t quite expected. Don’t get it twisted— you still fought. A lot. But it wasn’t the same. It wasn’t mean; it was almost flirty, charged with a new energy.

“Get that wretched drink away from me.” Charles chirps, wrinkling his nose as you settle into your usual spot at the Hard Deck, the familiar buzz of the bar surrounding you.

You can’t help but roll your eyes. “There is nothing wretched about a dirty martini. It’s sophisticated.”

“The fact you enjoy olives is nauseating.” He replies, crossing his arms in mock disapproval, his expression somewhere between annoyance and amusement.

You take a sip, letting the briny flavor linger on your tongue before responding. “The fact you don’t ever shut up is nauseating.”

He leans in slightly, a smirk tugging at his lips. “I don’t shut up? You’re one to talk.”

“I’m not here to argue tonight.” You say, relaxing into your chair, the low hum of conversation around you a comforting backdrop.

“Oh yeah? Me either,” Charles replies, taking a large gulp of his beer, his eyes narrowing with curiosity. “Just wondering though. What are you here for?”

You flash him a teasing grin. “To get laid.”

It it weren’t for his widened eyes, Charles gave no emotion away. “Seriously? That’s your game plan for the night?”

“Why not?” You shrug, leaning back with confidence. “All these fighter pilots are an easy lay.”

It was true. You were hot. And that thought alone drove Charles nuts. “And here I thought you were just here for the olives and to annoy me.”

“Those are just the bonus perks,” you quip, glancing around the bar. “Now, I’m gonna go dance and get myself a man.” You slip off your stool with a bright smile, sending a teasing wink in Charles direction. He can’t help but grumble in response.

“If any of those men touch you, I’ll fight them.” Carlos grumbles, bringing the bottled beer to his lips. 

“Oh please.” You wave him off. “Stop acting like I’m some innocent girl Car. You’ve known me too long for that."

-

Charles is pissed.

His jaw was set tight, and each breath seemed measured, like he was holding back a storm. The air around him crackled with tension, and you could almost feel the heat radiating off of him. It was clear— whatever had triggered this fury was digging deep.

“What’s got your panties in a twist, P?” Carlos chuckles, cracking a peanut shell onto the wooden bar top before popping it in his mouth.

The air around him felt charged, almost electric, as he pointed a finger toward you. “You just gonna let that guy grope her like that?”

Carlos raised an eyebrow, his gaze shifting to where you stood, fully engaged in conversation with a pilot named Jake, call sign ‘Hangman’. The way you laughed and leaned in, seemingly at ease, only fueled Charles’s frustration. “She can handle herself, you know that,” Carlos replied, a teasing tone edging into his voice.

“Yeah, doesn’t mean she should.” Charles snapped, his voice low and tight. He leaned forward, the tension in his body palpable as he watched Jake’s hand rest just a little too close for comfort on your waist. “Look how close he is. It’s like he thinks he owns her.”

“You’re ridiculous, P.” Carlos chuckles, shaking his head as he cracks a peanut shell against the wooden bar top. “When are you going to admit it?”

“Admit what?” Charles shot back, his gaze still locked on you, oblivious to anything else around him.

“That you like her,” Carlos says, a smirk creeping onto his face as he leans back, arms crossed behind his head.

Charles’s eyes narrowed as he studied you and Jake, the warmth of the bar contrasting sharply with the chill of jealousy creeping in. “Like her?” He echoed, disbelief woven in his tone. “I can barely stand her.” 

But deep down, he felt the truth of it. That he did like you. That he might even love you.

-

“Hangman!” Charles’s voice reverberates through the hangar, its volume cutting through the low hum of conversation and machinery. You wince at the abruptness of it, wondering why on earth he needs to talk to Jake, when he’s clearly talking to you.

Your gaze shifts back to Jake, who is laughing, seemingly unfazed by Charles’s entrance. But it was the way Charles’s rests his hand onto Jake’s shoulder that made you uneasy— too casual, too familiar. A knot formed in your stomach at the sight.

You took a deep breath, deciding to not let your thoughts go south. There’s no way Charles would go as far as sabotaging a potential relationship. Right?

“To what do we owe the displeasure of your annoyance?” You ask, your eyebrows slightly raised in confusion.

Charles shifts his gaze to you, a glimmer of amusement in his eyes. Yes, fight with me.

“Displeasure?” He shoots back. “You wouldn’t know displeasure if it hit you in the face.”

“What are you five?”

He smirks before shifting his eyes back to Jake, his hand still resting on his shoulder. “I actually need him for something. See ya sweet cheeks.” His tone dripping with mock nonchalance.

You narrow your eyes, irritation bubbling beneath the surface. “Really? That’s how you’re going to play this?”

-

“You don’t give up, do you?” His voice was low and amused, cutting through your focus on the dart board before you.

You roll your eyes— a reflex you perfected around him— trying to ignore the way Charles’s gaze lingers on you. With a deep breath, you glance over, meeting his warm smile. It’s disarming, that easygoing charm of his, like a breath of fresh air.

His relaxed posture leans casually agains the bar, arms crossed, exuding a effortless confidence that somehow makes you feel at ease. You try to refocus on the dartboard, but it’s hard to concentrate when his eyes are like a magnetic pull, drawing your attention away.

“You know, if you actually focused, you might hit the board this time,” He teases, the playful glint in his eyes making it impossible to stay annoyed.

You chuckle softly, shaking your head, before placing all darts down on the table nearby. “Yeah, yeah. Like you’re one to talk about focusing.”

He laughs, and its infectious, a sound that warms the room. “I focus plenty.”

“Yeah,” You agree. “On finding ways to talk dirty.”

The corner of his mouth curls into a confident grin, and his eyes spark with mischief. “It’s a skill. Not everyone can pull off that kind of charm.”

You raise an eyebrow, feigning indifference, though your heart flutters a little. “Charm? Is that what we’re calling it now?”

“Absolutely,” he replies, his tone low and teasing, eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that sends a thrill down your spine. “You know you love it.”

“You’re incorrigible, you know that?”

“And you love every minute of it,” He counters, leaning slightly closer, the playful challenge in his gaze making it hard to resist the pull between you. The air around you feels charged, a mix of flirtation and genuine connection.

“You know, I fucking hate you.” You say, the words slipping our more forcefully than intended.

Charles chuckles dryly, no humor lacing in his tone. “That’s a little harsh, isn’t it?”

“Harsh?” You let out a laugh tinged with bitterness, crossing your arms over your chest defensively. “No. Jake won’t even look at me since whatever you said to him.” You cross your arms over your chest.

The air between you thickens, the weight of unspoken tension almost suffocating. Charles shifts slightly, his expression darkening as seriousness settles over him. “Good.”

“I can’t even believe you right now.” Frustration wells up inside as you reach for your bag, the rough fabric grounding you as you stomp toward the exit. Each step feels heavy, fueled by a mix of anger and disbelief. The lively chatter of the bar fades behind you, leaving only the pounding of your heart in your ears.

Charles doesn’t let up, his footsteps echoing behind you, persistent and urgent. “You’re literally such an asshole,” You throw over your shoulder, the words sharp and cutting.

“He doesn’t deserve you!” he shouts, frustration spilling over as he catches up to you, breathless. His hand runs through his hair, a familiar gesture of agitation, and before you can step away, he reaches for your shoulder, gently halting you in your tracks.

“Deserve me?” You repeat his words, incredulity lacing your voice. “What the fuck does that even mean? You hate me, remember?”

Charles looks up at the sky for a brief moment, his expression a mix of frustration and confusion, as if he’s searching for clarity among the stars. “I don’t hate you,” he finally admits, his voice low but intense. “I just… I can’t stand watching him touch you.”

You can feel the tension radiating between you, charged and electric. “But it’s not your call,” you reply, your tone softer but still defensive. 

“You don’t think I know that?” He laughs, but its somewhat sad sounding. “You…you drive me insane.” He says, but its almost as if he’s talking to himself.

“You drive me completely insane actually. Like all I can ever hear is your fuckin’ voice inside of my head. Arguing me over everything. And your stupid fuckin’ jokes too. I can’t even look at olives without seeing your fuckin’ face in them.” He continues on, the words pouring out of him and he can’t stop.

“And I know it sounds crazy because I’ve been such a dick to you. But I didn’t know how to handle these feelings. I mean you’re Carlos’s best friend,” he confesses, his voice trembling slightly, “but I like hearing your voice inside of my head. I like that olives remind me of you. I like you.” His eyes are locked onto yours, filled with an intensity that makes your breath hitch.

They’re so green. A vivid, almost luminescent shade that captures the light and seems to hold an entire universe within them. You realize you’ve never truly noticed how striking they are until this very moment—the way they flicker with emotion, drawing you in and holding you captive.

The green is rich and deep, like a forest canopy dappled with sunlight, alive with the promise of something untamed. You find yourself getting lost in them, feeling the weight of his confession settle around you like a warm embrace. It’s as if all the barriers that had kept you apart are beginning to dissolve, and you can see a vulnerability in him that you hadn’t allowed yourself to acknowledge before.

For a fleeting moment, the world around you fades away—the sounds of the bustling bar, the cool night air, the lingering frustration—all of it blurs into the background. In the depths of his gaze, you sense a longing, a desire that mirrors your own, and it sends a shiver down your spine. You feel the tension shift, and the space between you feels charged, alive with possibility.

“So hate me all you want, but I couldn’t watch Hangman try to have a meaningless fuck with you.”

“You don’t mean that.” Your voice comes out small and unsure, your throat feeling dryer than before from his confessions.

“Don’t mean what?” He steps closer, eyes never falling from yours, as his calloused finger tips rest along your hips. He almost expects you to flinch and shove him away— hell you think you would too— but you don’t. 

“You think I’d lie about liking you? About wanting you?” His eyes drop to your lips for a mere second before meeting your gaze once more. “It’s not a lie. I’m not that cruel.”

You go to turn from his hold, but his grip on your hips tightens. “Bug, I swear. Why would I embarrass myself like this if it weren’t true?”

The tension is palpable, an electric charge hanging in the air, and your stomach swarms with warmth at his words. “I can’t get your fuckin’ lips out of my mind,” he nearly pleads, his voice thick with desire. “I need to kiss you. Please let me kiss you, yeah?”

You feel your heart race, your thoughts scattering like leaves in a storm as his confession washes over you. The weight of the moment feels like it could burst, and you swear your brain short-circuits, caught between disbelief and overwhelming longing.

Before he can say another word, you rise on your tiptoes, driven by an instinct you can’t ignore. In a swift, bold move, you press your lips to his. The kiss is soft at first, tentative yet charged with all the unspoken words and emotions that have built up between you.

As his lips meld against yours, a rush of warmth surges, igniting a fire that spreads from your lips to the tips of your fingers. The kiss deepens, turning from hesitant to passionate, and Charles groans into your mouth.

Time seems to stretch, the world around you fading into a blur. All that exists is the taste of him, the warmth of his breath, and the intoxicating feeling of connection that envelops you both. 

“Bug,” He pulls you both apart. “We gotta stop or I’m gonna take you right here on the deck of this place.”

You pull back from his embrace, giving him a look as you breath heavily, your lips swollen. “Is it bad to say I like that idea?”

His lets out a long groan and tilts his head back. “I always knew you’d be the death of me.”

“Take me home, P.”

-

“Fuck, baby.” He groans hotly into your ear. “Keep fuckin’ doin that.” His hoarse voice muttered, hands behind his head as he watches you work yourself over his cock.

There’s a sense of desperation on your face, and he can’t help but smirk at the sight of it. 

Your eyes burned with the tears that slid down your cheeks. The feeling of being filled to the brim and fucked the way you needed, was more than enough to elicit tears.

“Fu-uuck.” He groans again, panting out as he drops his hands to hold both your hips. Your hips swivel, a heavy moan escaping your lips as you ground yourself against him in a feverish pace.

“P,” you whine as your mouth falls open into an “O” shape. The air around you is humid and thick as Charles thrusts his hips up into you with ease. “M’so close.”

“Yeah?” His fingers slip to the nape of your neck, squeezing roughly as he pulls your chest down to his. Pumping his cock upwards into you. “C’mon, give it to me.”

You fail to form any words, nothing but grunts and small moans escaping past your lips as Charles fucks himself into you. The sound of skin slapping skin fills the room. 

“Need it so bad, baby.” He mutters into your ear in between groans. “Need to feel you on me.”

“Mmm, feels so nice.” He urges you on. “You do it so well.”

Charles couldn’t help himself as your wall clamp down him tightly. The pace of his hips, and the force of you driving down onto him, was enough to send you both spiraling over the edge. Crashing.

“You’re so good. Mon dieu.”

“M’gonna go insane baby. Need more.” He groans, flipping you both over before slipping your leg up and fucking into you again. “Y’feel so good. Can’t stop.”

"Never gonna be mean to you again."

"No?"

"No. I promise, Bug."

"Even when I eat olives?"

"Even when you eat olives."

"What about when I argue you on anything."

"Don't care. I only fought with you because it was the only time you gave me actual attention."

Your heart clenches at his words, his hips slowing down as he presses soft kisses to your face.

"What about when-"

"Never again, Bug."

[ooffmlsorry]

One Piece Men Driving (you around)

monster trio

A/N: I don't know a lot about Kid but I thought I'd give a shot anyway :I I'm really sorry if he's OOC

LAW

Would make a great get away driver honestly, like he genuinely has a great understanding of driving/the road and hardly ever gets lost and he knows you think that's hot

He drives SO FAST like WHERE ARE YOU GOING??? This man actively considers the speed limit a challenge

For that reason he's either always early or on time to pick you up...but somehow suspiciously late getting you home 😉

8/10 times he's in charge of the music, it depends on your taste and his mood honestly. If you don't have the same music taste, he'll grin and bear it because he loves you, really you're torturing this man

Yeah he drives really fast but never in a school zone or neighborhood, he takes that really seriously

Acts like it's a big pain to drive you around but secretly loves it and always claims he was headed that way even if he wasn't

Loves late night drives with you that end in some empty parking lot to talk for hours or make out or both

The two of your are menaces to late night convenience store clerks

Loves holding your hand or keeping a hand on your thigh while driving

Keeps his car pretty clean except for all the coffee cups and energy drink cans on the floor in the backseat that he thinks you don't notice

KID

His car > you sorry not sorry

Drives a loud, obnoxious hot rod

Drives like a MANIAC and LOVES IT. Fuck it we ball, if y'all die then y'all die. This man is not afraid to take a risk and you know that

That being said he'd probably never put you in real danger

"Oh look, y/n there's some kids riding their bikes. LET'S HIT 'EM!!" does not actually hit the kids but definitely keeps a point score in his head as if he did. "You know I just missed 40 points for you, tricycles are worth more."

Doesn't let you drive it but thinks you look totally hot behind the wheel

Gets there when he gets there, babe, but wherever you're going you're going in style

Genuinely loves blasting the music when he's near you so you know he's on the way

The best part of driving with him is being obnoxiously loud and wild and free together

Acts like he's gonna crash just to mess with you a little

Drag races for sure

Secretly prefers your company over everyone else's while tinkering with the car y'all have definitely fucked on top of it like he just likes having you in presence while he works, it kind of puts him at peace

There's definitely some kind of detail that's an homage to you and any sort of decoration you buy that he can put in his car he will

ACE

I'm so serious DO NOT distract this man

It takes every last brain cell he has not to fuck up

Like when he's alone he's fine, but as soon as another person's in the car with him he gets so distracted especially with you

He can't help it he's just so happy to see you and talk to you and look at you and whoops! There was the exit he was supposed to take

He's either picking you up a half an hour early or twenty minutes late there's no in between

Y'all share the music but he can listen to just about anything just don't put on anything boring

You already know the deal, if y'all end up going out to eat you're driving home because he's absolutely asleep

Definitely prefers back roads and intentionally takes the "long way" so he can spend more time with you

Of course there's a 50/50 chance y'all are gonna get real lost anyway so either way he's spending more time with you

Gets really embarrassed anytime he fucks up so don't backseat drive because it'll only make it worse

King of Normalize Hitting the Curb™️

Loves a good snack run

[ddejavvu]

for mvm i’m thinking about the dagger squad being mechanics and they’re all fussing over you and offering to fix your car when you walk in their shop (i just think miles teller would look good in a dirty wife beater 😪)

today is multiverse monday, send me any au you can think of! :)

--

Natasha doesn't think it's fair that she's working the counter when you come wandering in, looking like a little lost puppy. If she'd forced Jake to take his shift at the right time, and not duck out for lunch, she'd be dressed down more, in a tank top that highlights all the places she wants you to see most. Instead, she's in a baggy uniform, nametag shining on her chest.

She tries to compensate for her lackluster outfit with extra sweetness when she greets you, "Hi there! What can we do for you today?"

She leans over the counter, bracing her chin in her hands. It puts her face closer to yours, just far away enough to claim professionality, even if she is trying to get a subtle whiff of your shampoo.

"Hi," You smile nervously at her, "My car broke down? It's- it's like, a mile up the road that way," You point out the door to a long stretch of road, one that's notorious for being away from most cell service.

"Aw," She croons, sympathy in her voice as her eyes soften impossibly further, "It's alright, we can tow it back here for you. You must be tired, walking all that way, you want a water?"

"Oh!" You gush when she pulls a bottle out from a cooler behind the desk, "That's okay, are you sure?"

"Totally sure," She sends you a wink, passing the chilled bottle over the counter, "I can drive the truck, but we'll need to get one other worker to come with us to hook it up. It's not a one-man job."

"Okay," You nod, standing adrift at the counter as she bustles about, slamming her thumb down on a comm system.

"Bradshaw!" She snaps, voice thick and rough, "Pull a truck around, someone needs towing."

"On it." Comes a raspy, grainy sound from the comm only seconds later, a man's voice this time.

"He's not a very good driver," Natasha explains, taking all the opportunity she gets to talk Bradley down, "You ever heard of 'brains and brawn'?"

You nod, and she laughs, "Let's just say, he's not the brain."

"Who's stupid?" Comes a voice from behind the counter, and a man with gelled brown hair and thick glasses emerges from the bathroom, "Oh- uh, hello, are you having car trouble?"

The man looks like a deer in headlights, all pinky cheeks and wide eyes. His nametag reads Bob, and you shift on your feet as you nod.

"Yeah," Your teeth catch the inside of your cheek and you gnaw there, "Uh, my car broke down on the road out there, and it needs towing."

"Oh! I can drive," He offers with a sweet, hopeful smile, but Natasha intercepts, unbuttoning her uniform shirt so that only a white tank lays underneath.

"I'm driving," She states as calmly as possible, but she's urgent to shut him down as she leaves her uniform draped over the back of her chair, "Bradley's hooking it up."

"Oh," Bob's shoulders sink, but perk back up once he spots the cooler, "Has anyone offered you a water?"

You hold up the bottle, smiling sweetly at him, "Thanks anyways."

"Here," The door behind Natasha bursts open with a bang, and a man steps out, chest heaving a shirt stained with grease. The white fabric holds tight to his skin, and there's a similar smear of grease across the bulge of his bicep.

He spots you, and he heaves one final exhale, holding out an oil-stained hand for you to shake.

"Bradley," He introduces himself with a charming smile, and his eyes are concealed behind aviator sunglasses, "You need towing?"

"I do," You lament, reaching for his hand and trying to avoid the grease smeared on his skin. His fingers are rough, calloused, but his touch is soft as he wraps his other hand around your intertwined ones and shakes yours.

"Don't worry," He soothes, choosing to vault himself over a lower part of the counter instead of open the door, so that his muscles pop. He lands beside you, shoulders broad and breath momentarily hot against your shoulder, "We'll get it fixed up for you."

"Thank you," You breathe, hands suddenly sweaty. They're circling you like vultures, Natasha hastily breaking through the segmented doorway and standing on your other side.

"Tow truck's out front," Bradley motions to the truck standing tall in the parking lot, "Actually, Natasha, you can sit this one out. I don't need help with the cables, and the front desk needs manning."

"That's what Bob's here for," She keeps steady, tense eye contact with Bradley, "Plus the last time you tried driving that truck, you almost crashed."

"Did not," He snaps.

"Did too," She sneers.

"Uh," Bob interjects, "If you want, I can-"

"No!' Bradley and Natasha turn on him in unison, but the door opens and cuts off any protests they could have given.

"Someone need towin'?" A southern drawl cuts across the room, and the employees around you groan.

"Ah," A man smiles from the doorway, flanked by another mechanic behind him with sharp features, nametag reading Javy.

"You must be the unlucky driver," The man drawls, Jake engraved on the metal tag on his chest, "Did'ja break down on the dirt out there?"

"Yeah," You breathe, taking a slow step towards him, "How'd you know?"

"People break down there all the time," He waves a hand dismissively, "How 'bout I help you with that, darlin'?"

"I'm driving," Bradley and Natasha speak in unison, and it puts a satisfied smirk on Jake's face.

"My coworkers are prone to infighting," Jake explains, feigning solemnity as he lays a hand on your shoulder, "It's a real problem. Let us take you, okay? We can let them sort out their issues on their own."

Javy holds the door open for you and Jake, sending Natasha, Bradley, and Bob a shit-eating grin, when you're out of earshot before he joins you, "Tryhards."

[ananke-xiii]

Another dream, always mine (and yes it's still spn s13 related because i have a bone to pick with dabb over that season specifically)

So here it goes. (Part 1)

Spn s13 but kelly doesn't die, cas doesn't die, crowley doesn't die. Lucifer dies for *reasons* but mary, dean and sam are stuck in the AU.

It's still spn so we just have to have mirrors and parallels, okay? Like, this show doesn't care about continuity but damn! They will stick to mirrors and parallels like it's a religion and so we do too.

The thing is that the AU is not the lame-ass AU Dabb or whoever came up with, it's at least an attempt at being an interesting place. So basically the AU is as boring and dumb as our earth, nothing has really changed, people are still trapped in the rat race that capitalism is (see, we have a little bit of critique here too, there is no escape from the capitalist-fascist-heteronormative narrative or isn't it?), the frigging white picket fences are still everywhere like a fucking nightmare BUT! This is an earth without monsters, angels, demons, nothing goes bump in the night but depression, paranoia and suicidal thoughts (now these are the real monsters) and YET this is THE chance for our heroes, this is the promised land, no past, only freedom, the american dream is theirs to grab (but don't worry this place hides a secret, this is still spn everything must be queer, you'll see). Sam, dean and mary are kinda lost cause, surprise surprise! It turns out that's not the things you want that you can't have but that you didn't know what you wanted so how could you have it in the first place? Mary is restless, this was supposed to be her dream, she died for it and now she doesn't want it and she goes through another deep existential crisis (and, really, we all just get mary because seriously? any character named mary who's also a mother has too much fucking weight on her shoulder, just let the woman be). Sam is kinda okay with it, he once again refuses to get in touch with his emotions and flees from them like the plague: they're gonna make it work, they will find a way (i want to convey ross from friends vibes when he's like *in a squeaky voice* i'm fine! Here, that's sam in the AU). The guy lives in his delusion, this is his chance at being normal (and oh boy is he wrong, you'll see). Dean feels just bad, he's supposed to feel happy with his mother and his brother/son (the weird implications of this situation will be explored) but he keeps thinking about that little house by the sea (or was it a lake?) that cas bought as fucking jimmy novak and how the angel spent months there with kelly playing daddy and how the fucking angel played him and dean just went along and repaired his stupid truck as if to thank him for breaking his heart but also, also, dean will never admit it to anyone ever but deep down he knows, he knows, that that was his place, his angel, his chance (we will also have an explorations into the complex theme of mpreg with the due "Junior" references we all deserve and insights into dean's maternal insticts).

Now back to earth.

Kelly gives birth to a baby jack, cas lives with them to protect them from the angels and demons that will sure come for a visit (but once again he will end up being a total agent of chaos, you'll see), the angel is a bit of a mess, though, and his obsession with saving dean winchester is finally making kelly feel quite concerned with her life choices, maybe trusting this guy was a little bit insane, was he always this deranged? (We'll soon see why she thinks that, she might have a point). Meanwhile crowley goes back to hell and we once again have a cheap game of thrones situation (because why not? i can't come up with infinite original ideas to fix this plot, okay? Also this is still spn, i can condone SOME cheap storylines on the side, and anyway mark sheppard makes anything work so we're good) where his varys-like smart brain cells will put him on the throne again (who's this asmodeus guy anyway, prince of hell or not, fuck him, he will not stick around here for a second season while dagon died like after 2 episodes she was in, not gonna happened in my narrative). But, you see, the demon has his own issues, and goes visiting kelly and the angel because why not? He likes kelly she seems interesting enough for a person who birthed satan's son, escaped from a fucking angel of the lord, was kidnapped by a goddamn prince of hell, managed to baby trap said angel of the lord, stole the frigging impala and escaped that menace that the winchesters are. She then proceeded to give birth knowing she might have died. She is something. Something a bit unhinged maybe but crowley digs her, okay? He still also has varys-like smart brain cells so he needs to visit to make sure that baby lucifer is, like, not plotting to take over hell or whatever newborn babies half-made from cosmic entities do these days. Also, also, watching castiel putting baby jack to sleep with those big strong angel gym-bro arms did something to him, his daddy fetish and his mommy issues raised their head and something else too, and he foolishly promises to keep jack safe from hellish attacks and indulges castiel in his winchester obsession. What? He misses the brothers too, those handsome, tall, cruel white boys (we are reminded that, visually, the whole cas/kelly/jack situation is quite similar to the weird crowley/dean/amara thing of s11, mirrors and parallels need to keep happening people, this is spn, we gott have 'em). Castiel is living his tragic destiny yet again, he's seen the AU, has been there, technically knows that dean, sam and mary are safe but he just has to see it for himself, right? Like he has to make sure, it's not like dean not being there is eating him from the inside, it's not like he starts feeling the pang of guilt over the huge betrayal he's forced onto dean,leaving him left behind again and again and playing him that way, no. He copes by sitting in his stupid truck that dean had repaired listening to that damn tape (every time he does that we have a close-up of kelly watching the pathetic scene from her window and sighing as if in "fuck, FUCK, my life"). And oh, yes he also starts researching about archangel resurrection because i may or may not bring back my girls, aka raphael and uriel but this is for part 2, you'll see.

[stars-n-spice]

Meet the Baddies Batch!

I had this super dumb idea to give all the Batchers significant others (aside from Tech, since he already has Phee) and the lovely @urlocaldust gave me the idea to call them the 'Baddies Batch' after telling me that she dubbed the 'Bad Batch' the 'Bad Baddies.' And they're a bunch of baddies, so why not?

I want to make art and maybe even fics with them and their adventures because I think they could get into a lot of trouble with and without their partners.

I mean, you've got a bounty hunter, a pirate, a mercenary, a Jedi, and a medic. What could possibly go wrong?

Also, of course, Phee doesn't belong to me but the other four characters do!

Anyways, introductions!

Starting off, we've got Jung-Myn Yun! Hunter's selectively mute Jedi whom he's in a queerplatonic relationship with (Hunter's an oriented aroace in this AU). If anyone has a brain cell in the group, it's going to be him and he's desperately in need of a break. No amount of Jedi training could've prepared them for dealing with this crew and the Batch's shenanigans but he makes do! Of course, they've got loads of trauma from Order 66 and the sub-sequential aftermath, but you'll never catch them opening up about it.

Still working out how the two would come to meet, but I'm thinking it's really a chance meeting where they just happen to cross paths. Call it the Force or what you will. Or maybe Omega got lost in a marketplace and stumbled upon Jung. Who knows? All that matters is they make a good team and take care of each other's luscious hair.

Stats: Name: Jung-Myn Yun Species: Jedi Human (?) Age: 27 Pronouns: He/They Sexuality: MLM Ace Height: 6'1 Enneagram Number: 9W1 Occupation: None (lmao)

Second up, we've got Viram Cossa! Echo's lovely aspiring Mikkian medic who keeps the squad together but won't hesitate to kill a bitch. The other individual with the brain cell, Viram is the voice of reason and makes sure to keep everyone safe and healthy because the Force knows the kind of trouble they all get up to. She keeps everyone in check physically and mentally, making sure everyone gets the rest they seem to forget they need (her included).

Viram meets Echo through Chuchi! She and the Senator are friends and when Chuchi starts helping out the clones after the fall of the Republic, Viram helps alongside her as a medic. They have somewhat of a slow burn, as they want to focus more so on their efforts and jobs than a relationship but every now and then that composure slips. Nothing is going to stop them from judging people though. Absolutely nothing.

Stats: Name: Viram Cossa Species: Mikkian Age: 25 Pronouns: She/Her Sexuality: Demisexual Height: 5'2 Enneagram Number: 2W1 Occupation: Medic

Third up is Khea Nultez! Wrecker's fiery Mandalorian who is somehow even more reckless than all of the Batch combined. The designated demolitions expert of the squad, Khea's stubborn personality keeps them on their toes and surprisingly gets them out of trouble as much as it gets them into trouble. Her charm and sharp wit are as effective as her WESTARs and she is not exempt from the Mandalorian gene of adopting anything and everything that is in need of a home.

Khea ran a repair shop on Ord Mantell and one day Wrecker was sent to get supplies and ended up falling in love instead. Something about short brunettes with moles on their faces really got him. However, Khea is super stubborn, self-destructive, and way too wary, so it takes a while for her to open up to Wrecker. But it's so over for her once she finally admits to her feelings and realizes Wrecker doesn't have any underlying intentions with her. It's so over.

Stats: Name: Khea Nultez Species: Chandarlian + Mandalorian Age: 25 Pronouns: She/Her Sexuality: Pansexual Height: 5'4 Enneagram Number: 6W7 Occupation: Bounty Hunter/Mechanic

Next up, is, of course, the amazing and wonderful Phee Genoa, who I think doesn't need an introduction. The pilot of the group with a ship big enough for all of them, she gets the squad into trouble more often times than not, but always manages to get them out of it in the process. She's usually the one to start up shit (and Khea follows) but she's always there to save her squad or the Bad Batch when things turn for the worst.

We all know how they meet :) I will never not get over her introduction scene.

Stats: Name: Phee Genoa Species: Human Age: N/A Pronouns: She/Her Sexuality: Bisexual Height: N/A Enneagram Number: 8W7 Occupation: Pirate Liberator of Ancient Wonders

Last but not least is Tay'kaa Marr! Crosshair's snarky Chagrian mercenary boyfriend who is a saint for putting up with Crosshair's shit. He's as happy to join in on shit as much as he is to stir shit up, and boy does he love to stir the pot. He's a snarky, competitive son of a bitch who loves to tease, but the moment you say anything remotely bad about Crosshair, you better watch yourself. While not as good as a marksman as his boyfriend, he still has great aim and is the team's designated sharpshooter.

Working out the details on their initial meeting, but I'm leaning towards the classic 'meeting at the bar/club' trope. Tay probably challenges Crosshair to darts or something, thinking he can beat him and when Crosshair completely mercies Tay, Tay is both incredibly frustrated at the fact of someone being better than him while also being incredibly interested. Things just go from there and you'll never be able to tell if they actually like each other or not (they do, they just got a weird way of showing it).

Stats: Name: Tay'kaa Marr Species: Chagrian Age: 28 Pronouns: He/Him Sexuality: Bisexual Height: 6'5 (not counting lethorns) Enneagram Number: 3W2 Occupation: Mercenary

And that wraps it up!

And when you put the Bad Batch and the Baddies Batch together you get:

It's really stupid, I know, but they are my sillies and I love them so much.

I'll be tagging stuff with just the significant others as: baddies batch

And things that include the Bad Batch as: silly squad

Is this ridiculous? Yes, perhaps, but it's fun :D

[populousgraph]

I'M SO MOTIVATED TODAY!

This is my other Toppat oc, Carter. (This might also get wordy lol)

Carter is a bit of a lovable dumbass in the way that I can best describe as a comical relief. He's pretty laid back and doesn't like when things get too serious. He's decent at his hiest jobs, but he's no professional. This is because he's a bit clumsy, which is also why he doesn't get put on important missions as much.

Carter was raised with his twin brother, Carson. (I'll get into him later)

At a young age, he always felt out of place. He was a troublemaker and was constantly getting himself disciplined by the people around him. It was also obvious that his parents favored his brother over him. Oh, the pain of being compared to your sibling, especially as twins.

I guess after so many years of trying to be a good person and live up to his brother, he got tired of trying. (He definitely had an emo phase as a teen, lmao). He occasionally would steal small things and pick fights with other people. (Whether or not he won the fights is debatable...)

Eventually him and his brother had a huge argument and fell apart. He lost contact with his twin and parents and had no one to turn to.

That is until a certain Clan shows up :3

Now I don't know how I want Carter to join the clan, and I have a few ideas with him assisting the clan or asking to join, I'm not sure. Either way, he does join eventually and becomes a part of their silly crime family.

What are his relationships with other Toppat members?

I'll tell ya! (This part is longer than Devin's because I don't get into Carter's role in ItA. You're not missing much anyway. He plays a bigger role in CtM)

Devin:

These two are pretty much best friends, and they're super chaotic when they work together. Their combined brain cells cancel each other out, which makes them kinda stupid to be around. When Carter is in trouble, Devin is usually right there with a stupid idea to get him out of it. They usually go on minor heists together.

CatHat (my friend's oc):

Carter manages to piss CatHat off so bad that simply being around him irritates him. They don't interact much, but since they're both friends with Devin, they gotta tolerate each other.

Reginald:

They don't talk much (obviously). But Carter does respect him and does his best not to mess up around him. They have bonded over sharing a similar style but not much else.

Right Hand Man:

They almost NEVER talk. Which makes sense since Right keeps to himself, and Carter is very intimidated by just the thought of the guy.

Carson Miller:

Carter's twin brother that he lost contact with a long time ago. He misses him sometimes, but he doesn't have time to dwell on it. They used to be super close when they were little.

Anyway, thanks for sticking around and reading all this 😅. As a thanks, I give you a cookie 🍪

[swords-of-a-soilder]

The Healing Process

Chapter 1

Confession and Bonfires

This is my first qsmp fic be nice to me; also this is some what outdated but everyone insisted I finish it anyways so here it is!

Cellbit eyes fell half lid as he phased into place, overlooking phill and Misa's home. He hadn't the proper chance to caught up since the events of purgatory, the exhaustion for the damage his body took put him out for weeks at least and the horrid vision of mind are ones he'd rather forget.

He slowly walked over to the front door of the home where he knocked for a whole 3 second, before then looking through the window.

The double bed remained empty amongst the wall of pictures, his eyes gazed back and forth as he search for any life, then sighed when he found none.

Cellbit was about to leave when he heard an iron door push open, he walked over to where he heard the sound watching Phill crawl from an underground base.

"Oi, Philza." Cellbit started

"Sup mate!" Phill greeted, he crawl his way out the hole completely, shutting the door behind him.

"I hope I'm not interrupting you, seem you were bu-" before Cellbit finished his sentence he experience a strong embrace from Phill, sending the younger gentleman into shock.

Finally Phill pulled away meeting Cellbit gaze, "I'm glad you're alright, I was worried you wouldn't make it back." He confessed

Cellbit blink momentarily before his brain flowed again, "I'm glad to see you too."

"oh, are you good on cookies by the way?" Phill starting, "I don't know if you heard but the eggs need to take 8 cookies a week. I started collecting as many as I could so you're good for the week."

"Jesus, it's purgatory all over again." Cellbit joked

"Ah, sorry." Phill respond

Cellbit immediately noticed the tint of regret in Phil's eyes, he seemed to be defaulting to the purgatory mind set, Cell might of said it was concerning if he had found himself doing the same.

It wasn't suprising he was still in survival mode, especially when they didn't get the opportunity to have a proper set off, there was a huge difference between running to the boat to save your life and a proper bon fire goodbye.

"Um, speaking of purgatory, I just wanted to stop by and say maybe, if you're not busy we have a proper send off." Cellbit began.

"An send off?"

"A finally good bye to purgatory, I mean obviously we aren't gonna forgot it entirely but this will help us to move on."

Phill stared at him in disbelief before speaking again, "this was Roier's idea, wasn't it?"

Cellbit release a defeated sigh as he lost his confidence, "yes, it's not the best idea but it's a idea."

"I mean I like the idea, It just didn't seem like you."

Cellbit chuckled at Phill's respond, "no I'd like to ignore it all together, but Roier's seems convince, so I have to at least try."

"sure thing mate, when is it gonna be?"

"Midnight, why then?" Jaiden asked as she pet one of her many parrot birds.

"Purgatory had long nights, it'll fit the vibe." Cellbit explain

"Hmm, I don't see why not, where's not drinking tea right?" Jaiden inquired

"why you don't like tea anymore?" Cellbit asked

"God no, I hate tea now!" Foolish insisted.

charlie noted his head in agreement, "yeah no more tea, I will puke my guts out."

"great, it would help if you brought some food, but no pressure." Cellbit suggested

"ah, I'm not the best cook you know?" Etoiles warned

"I can make a mean milkshake!" Mouse added

"milkshake isn't a good night drink is it?" Etoiles asked

"doesn't matter, it's good."mouse double down

Cellbit chuckled at their ridiculous behavior, "well anyways, I'll see you guys tonight then."

It would be untrue to say Cellbit wasn't anxious about the upcoming event,but he was insistence on keeping a bold face for Roier whom saw through it rather easily."

"Pendjo, eres tan fácil de leer; you can just admit to be nervous?" Roier began

"What do I have to be nervous about?" Cellbit detour suddenly paying his attention to the food Roier brought with them.

"Hey come on now, this is supposed to be a night of openness!" Roier rebutted, "ya deberías saberlo mejor, ¡no te voy a juzgar!"

"Cellbit!" A voice called from his left, Cellbit would soon observe Etoiles approaching with Mouse by his side, Both holding milk products respectfully.

"I tired to stop her, but she instead on it." Etoiles inform as he passed off a large jug filled to the brim with a cold milkshake.

Cellbit released a nervous chuckle as he place the jug down, "well, the others aren't here but, feel free to chill by the fire."

"Hey, you got any music?" Mouse inquired

"I didn't prepare for..I think I might have a record in my backpack.." Cellbit pulled his backpack from under the table fumbling through it.

He eventually pulled a dic out that he handed off to mouse, whom immediately set it to play on her own backpack. The familiar tunes of pig step filled the air, as mouse dance her way over to fire.

It didn't take long for the others to show up, Charlie, jadien and foolish all in that order. Phil of course was the last one to show up, carry a dispenser jug of Ice Tea.

And with that his promise was broken, "Ah Phil, did you really have to bring tea?" Cellbit started

"Why not, its good!"

"Yes, but Foolish and Charlie, really didn't want to drink any-"

"Oh really?" Phil interrupted, "its a god damn send off they can drink the Tea, Foolish come drink this!" Phil demand as he poured foolish a cup.

"No, get that shit away from me!" Foolish begged

Cellbit chuckled at Phil's ridiculous behavior, then blended into the group forcing himself to socially per Roier's orders.

For the majority of the night it was mostly chill, in a not so suprising turn of events Cellbit found his desire to communicate to run dry in the first hour.

You could only do so much small talk before it becomes a drag, so he stayed by his partner, not necessarily saying anything but kept seated next to Him with his head rested on his shoulders, just Observering the other.

Therefore he couldn't help but notice that Phil of all people was acting rather strange and thus tuned into him and his conversations a lot more; which actually weren't that many since Phil spent most his time chugging tea at the dispenser.

The troubling part was, the driver was absolutely alcoholic, Cellbit certainly smelt the Vodka from here; granted he was fully aware Phil wasn't the one who spiked it but he surely figured out by now what was in it.

"Phil, come on stick fight?" Etoiles pleaded

Phil could feel his head spinning at the thought, but having turn him down the past few days he felt obligated to play along. He place the cup on the table, "yeah.. Ok." He agreed fetching a stick from his inventory

Etoiles was basically bouncing of the non existence walls in excitement, soon taking his stance in preparation as Phil did the same.

Cellbit would say he felt bad for watching, he knew without a shadow of a doubt Phil was about to eat shit, but lot like a car crash he just couldn't look away.

And eat shit Phil did, getting knocked down in less than ten seconds by the dullest part of Eotiles stick, but credit where credit was due, Phil clearly wasn't focus.

In fact Cell quickly track his vision to the others dancing, specifically Mouse, whom held a Goat's skull on her head. Phil would soon thank Etoiles for the fight then quickly made his way to mouse, stealing the skull then engaging in small talk.

"Where did you find this, I never see skulls this small just about." Phil was Cleary lying through his teeth, it seemed more like he just wanted an excuse not to give the item back.

Why not just ask to keep it?

"Phil, come on man, dance it's a party!" Charlie was obviously already drunk and while Phil was tispy enough to eat shit in under 10 seconds, Charlie was 'not gonna be able to piss straight' drunk.

So it made sense that he would just casually take the skull and start dancing about, however watching the way Phil's fingers curled in and his lips quiver, it pulled Cellbit to intervene.

He stole the skull from Charlie quickly hiding it in his inventory, satisfied to see a sense of peace wash over Phil. "You're going to poke someone's eye out." Cellbit warned.

"Ah man you're no fun." Charlie complained as he rejoin the group.

After everyone tired themselves out, Roier being the only one who brought actual food, started handing them out; as everyone was forced to sit and discuss by the fire it made the task a little easier.

"Phil, I noticed you don't tend to eat at these events." Cellbit inquiried

"Ah, I normally full up on toast before hand and so I usually just bring some back for Chayanne." Phil informed

"Please at least eat this time." Cellbit request as he past off the dish, "Roier might take it as an insult over wise."

"Yeah, sure mate."

After handing out everything Cell seated himself by the camp fire awaiting Roier's presence, though he find himself slightly annoyed by his husband's statements when he finally sat down.

"So guys, I was thinking right now would be a good opportunity to talk about how we've been feeling."

"Oh boy, here we go." Charlie started, "I don't have a problem ok?!"

"That's not at all what I was talking about." Roier corrected, "look I'm sure purgatory messed with our understanding of trust in our friendship! You don't have to say it, but its a known fact. "

"So?" Foolish asked, rather annoyed by the topic.

"So trust excuses come on, no seas una perra; you talk about your feelings I talk about mine, look I'll even go first!" Roier began, "When Cellbit stayed behind, I felt hurt that my feelings weren't concerned."

"Stop don't." Cellbit pleaded, his face already buried in his hands, "No es que no haya considerado tus sentimientos, solo hice lo que pensé que era mejor para ti."

"Exacto, lo hiciste sabiendo que me haría daño, simplemente porque querías hacer lo mejor para mí, lo entiendo."

"Stop this."

"Pero prefiero ser feliz a lo que es mejor para mí cualquier día, no seas idiota egoísta, te amo."

There was a long silence between the two, and though Cellbit looked ashamed, he also seemed partly content; Therefore it motivated others.

"Um, I'm actually really afraid all the time." Etoiles started

"Wait what?" Phil interrupted, "but you're Etoiles, you're always looking for a fight, being a hero."

"Well its more that I'm afraid of messing up, of not being enough; so of course I do a as many fights to prove to myself I'm strong but.. After it ends I feel pretty empty again."

once more a silence fell among the bon fire, it was clear tonight was expected to be an emotional one.

"sometimes I lose track of my motives." Jaiden began "of why I do the things I do and I've found myself asking, is motive a justification for the wrong I've done?"

Cellbit weight her words in his head, hateful of how strongly he agree with them, "I myself have done, regrettable things.. I knew my motive behind them but, I do wonder if the motive really is a justification.. I.. I don't know anymore."

Then the silence rare her uglyy face once more, the only sound the crackles of the fire. confession spoken would obviously be casted into the fire to burn but to leave their host and avoid becoming poison.

"I've been seeing things," Phil finally admit, "things I'm not sure are real anymore, and others can never seem to see it but.. I feel like I'm going crazy. I saw it, I lived thought it, it all feels real but.."

After the few who felt fit spoke their confession, there was an honor thirty minutes of silence to allow those confession to burn.

Freed from their host, freed from their minds. Once the event came to an end most participates rush their way home, and Phil was not above them

It was Cellbit, whom actually grabbed onto to Phil's shelve holding him back. "Um Phil, about those visions you've been seeing?"

"oh, no I mean, I was worried because I thought it was just because the kids were gone, but then it kept happening so..but it's fine it's probably all in my head." Phil dismissed

"in my experience, it never is." Cell warned, "at least reach out if it happens again."

".... Cellbit have you spelt?"

"wow.." Cellbit let his hands fall off Phil's shelve, "you're gonna turn on me like that!?"

"sleep deprivation is a terrible thing," Phil warned, "get some rest, for your own sake." Phil warned before turning away.

Momentarily Cellbit watch the older man walk away, keeping notice to check on Phil later.

[anidiotwithfanfiction]

"How is their company still going? Who knows. They had one brain cell and they lost it at the stock market."

- cofeewithaleks on tiktok

Bright florescents hum obnoxiously, the red velvet walls encasing are starting to feel stuffy.

Nervously, the redhead preens himself in the mirror behind.

Over the top extravagance crammed in every nook and cranny. Expensive marble statues, expensive leather chairs, expensive suits and ties.

It was like everything in the building needed to wear a price tag to get in.

And Pickles could not feel more out of place.

Stuffed into his thrifted tux, he played with cheap cuffs as the elevator went up.

He really didn't know how he landed this job. His resume was far from impressive. Fired from three jobs in the last four months, he applied to this one out of delusional hoping. He was nowhere near qualified. The job required and extensive background check, random drug tests, and 5 years of experience.

And he had a good one and a half at best. From a shit job he took back when he'd just graduated high school.

The elevator dings, and he spins around to face the front. His stomach swirling, he really needs this job...

The light is blinding, pouring through drawn crimson curtains. Windows from the floor to the ceiling, like a wall of glass, illuminate the figure hunched over at a large mahogany desk. He blinks hard, and steps into the room, suddenly feeling all eyes on him.

Nervously, he clears his throat.

"Uh, hi. 'M here for tha job."

Another figure emerges as green eyes adjust.

"Welcome, ah" the man moves beside the one sat, adjusting glasses as he peers down at a stack of papers "Pickles, is it?" He glances back up and it strikes the redhead that this isn't a rhetorical question.

"Yes- sir, uh- I'm s'posed to start my training today for-"

"Security, I'm well aware. It's a pleasure to be seeing you again"

And as the man steps forward, holding out a hand, it clicks just how familiar that voice is.

"Charles, right?" He asks, nervous to get it wrong.

"Yes, you may remember me from the interview." He retracts his hand. "You made quite the impression" he looks up, as Pickles pulls his hand back. God he hoped his it wasn't too sweaty.

There's a pause, the room quiets for a moment too long and green eyes drift to the left, the shadowy man beginning to form into something tangible.

"Ah, and this is Mr. Explosion, our CEO"

A freckled hand reaches out, as he stands in front of the desk now.

"Pleasure ta meet ya sir"

Shoulder length black strands part, as mossy green eyes greet his.

He glances at the outstretched hand, before awkwardly seizing it with a grip a bit too tight.

"I told you to call me Nathan" he looks over to Charles annoyed.

The man simply rolls his eyes.

Mr. Explosion turns back to Pickles, those intimidating eyes boring into his soul.

"Call me Nathan."

"Nat'an', got it" dry lips crack a smile.

This job might not be so bad.

"So you're like, my body gaurd?"

"Not yet" Charles interrupts "we still have to train him. But yes, Mr. Explosion, he will be your body guard."

Nathan does a once over of the poor ginger again, his eyes trailing a little too long for comfort.

"Metal"

Charles simply sighs, before adressing Pickles directly.

"If you'll follow me, I can begin to show you your on shift duties."

The rest of the day goes by uneventful. For the most part anyways. Following Charles around like a lost puppy was far from interesting. But there was a moment in the breakroom that felt odd to Pickles. Even now, as he lays in his shitty little bed, he keeps thinking about it.

Everything was fine, standard "I say jump, you say how high". Learning safety protocols, the itinerary, how Nathan likes his coffee.

Straight black. No sweeteners, no creams. Just a plain Jane coffee. And though Pickles could never sip on something so tasteless, he could respect it.

But it was as they were pouring a fresh cup he noticed Charles tense up.

And it was so fast, he wasn't even sure he saw it correctly. It was like pure instinct. The redhead heard some shuffling, a few beeps, and then a metallic clink.

By the time it clicked and he finally turned around it took a moment to process what he was looking at.

In part, due to the much-taller-than-he-thought CEO himself standing there beside the microwave. He hadn't really gotten a good look at him earlier, but the guy was easy on the eyes. He had sharp features, his eyes, mouth, nose. Like he was chiseled from marble.

But the most distracting feature was just how unserious he seemed.

Every other suit walking around this place carried themselves like they owned the joint. Practically shoving their wealth and entitlement down your throat in just the way they walked.

But here was the guy running the place, slouched over with piss poor posture, trying to heat up some Ramen in the microwave.

"Nathan" Charles cleared his throat, bringing the redhead back to earth. "What have I told you about putting metal in the microwave"

"To uh, not do it" he looked over at Charles confused, before looking back to the microwave. Swiftly the elder man moved forward, picking his pen from the floor and reaching into the appliance.

"Can you tell me why you put a fork in there just now?"

The raven haired man just stared. Like a laggy computer screen processing indefinitely.

Charles sighed, set the fork on the counter, and started his food up again. Metal free this time.

It was a stupid thing to fixate on, but it showed him a lot about the pair.

Like Charles, he came off as just another bureaucrat. But he was smart. Smart as hell. It was something he tried to downplay, but Pickles noticed it. Even in his little mannerisms, the way he tapped his pen against the paper instead of the clipboard. Or how he changed his style of speaking depending on who he was talking to. Proper and strict with the managers. Softer with the regular guys, the janitors, the cafeteria ladies, even him. He just spoke different.

And then there was Nathan.

He seemed to lean more into "Well meaning but exhausted father" when he spoke to him.

And Nathan was something else.

Quiet, for sure. He'd hardly spoken. He seemed to have a bit of a staring problem too. Those vibrant eyes boring into him whenever they found themselves in the same room.

And he was a total mystery.

Pickles had heard of him before, he did his research when applying. Kid's made it on the top 30 under 30 for the last three years. The details were a bit unclear, he didn't take many interviews. But from what Pickles could tell he had inheritaded the business from his grandfather, and somehow quadrupled profits in the first year.

He couldn't help but pull out his phone and type in a quick Google search. Because honestly, he just couldn't fathom how. Like the guy seemed cool, not one of those stuffy jack asses Pickles had had the displeasure of bumping into today. But he also seemed... aloof? In a way. Like sticking a fork in the microwave. He'd be lying if he said he'd never done it. But the way the guy looked at Charles, like fork and metal were two separate objects.

It just wasn't adding up.

And Google gave him nothing of substance. Just gossipy tabloids extensively covering his dating history. And it felt weird, but Pickles was a nosey guy. If he's gonna be spending every day glued to this guy's side he might as well get an idea of who he is.

Countless pictures of expensive dates, interviews of scorned lovers, tasteless speculation on the man's "prowess". He was starting to feel bad for the dude, these chick's were ruthless in their reviews.

But there was one that caught him off guard. No pictures, no proof, she choose to stay anonymous. But the way she spoke about him just felt too genuine to be faked.

"What was it like, dating the Nathan Explosion?"

"Well at first, a dream come true. He really is a sweet guy. More than generous, he even helped me pay off my student loans."

"Was that common for him? Using his wealth to make problems go away?"

"I don't know about that... he just. He didn't like to see people struggle. Not when he had the means to help."

"Well it must have been hard, dating someone like him"

"What exactly do you mean by that?"

"Well, someone of such high status. Someone so sought after."

"It was different for sure. He really is a romantic, despite the playboy persona he gives off. In real life, he's nothing like that at all."

"So then, why did things end?"

"He just... it didn't work."

"How so?"

"I don't want to speak ill of him, he truly is an incredible guy. We just... didn't click. We want different things in life and, well, honestly, things were just going too fast for me."

He rubbed his eyes, glancing at the time.

With a sigh, Pickles tossed his phone to the side. Pulling the scratchy comforter over his small frame.

He had a long day ahead of him.

"So uh, how long 've yew been runnin the place?"

"Couple years"

The red velvet of the elevator is beginning to feel like the interior of a coffin. Self contained and suffocating.

He knew he was expected to be around his new boss constantly. But he wasn't expecting the guy to be waiting at the door for him.

After an awkward exchanged they had shuffled into the quiet ride to the top.

"Yew grow up round here?"

"No"

His smile stretches thin.

"Yew don't talk much huh?"

Nathan break his short responses, turning to him.

"Depends on what we're talking about"

He looks so nonchalant, like there's not a thought behind those gorgeous eyes.

"What kinda stuff do ya like?"

The Ceo turns back towards the door, his shoulders raised as he contemplates the question.

"Chips, I guess. Fuckin love chips."

Sometimes Pickles thinks about bashing his skull in. The mirror in here would probably do the trick.

But before he can fully entertain the idea, the elevator door chimes, as they begin to part.

He's ready for the light this time, unwilling to be blinded by the massive windows view.

They step into the office, finally free of their awkward confinement.

"What about you?"

"Huh?" The question catches Pickles off gaurd.

"What do you, um, like?"

Theres an antsy fidget in the looming man's demeanor. Like a shy school girl introducing herself to the class.

It strikes something endearing in him.

"I dunno. 'M pretty kick ass on the drums."

"Yeah?" Nathan turns his head back, after pacing towards the curtains. He begins to tug one side closed with his eyes still locked on the red head.

"Yeah, I mean. Me an' my friends had this band back in highschool. Weren't nothing big, but we uh. Played a lot of parties, couple a' dive bars." His eyes cast down to freckled fingers clawing at themselves. He's rambling too much. "It was fun" he's too old to be reminiscing about high school.

"That's fucking metal"

It catches him by surprise. The room much dimmer than before as the CEO pulls the second curtain closed.

"Thanks? That was forever ago though-"

"How old are you?"

Wow this young man was brave.

"Twnety eight" There's no point in lying. He's pushing thirty working a menial job.

Nathan finally rests in his cushioned throne, rummaging through the drawers.

"You're older than me."

"Five years" he clicks his tongue, his piercings clinking against chipped teeth.

Nathan stops for a moment, dark eyes raising to meet his. The redhead felt his heart drop. Did he say something wrong?

"How the fuck do you know my age?" The CEO's voice deadpans, something terrifying in that flat tone. Those expressionless eyes.

His face grows bright red

"I was- shit" God this is embarrassing "it's just, like, yer in the news. I've seen it mentioned before" no way was he outright admitting he was fucking googling the guy.

The pair froze for a moment, either unmoving. Something tense in the air.

"Huh." Cold eyes calculating, prying him apart.

"That makes sense." He shrugs his shoulders, turning back to his desk.

Pickles could feel the air return to his chest. His heart still pounding. Christ that was nerve wracking.

This was a side he hadn't seen.

He's brought back to earth by the flick of a lighter.

He looks up, finding his new boss sparking up a joint.

"Wow"

Brilliant puffs of white pour from thick lips.

He turns to the new hire, holding it out.

"You smoke?"

His mind runs wild.

This is a joke right? Or like, some weird test designed to get his ass fired?

"I uh"

But what if it's not? What if he offends his cool ass boss's offer and is marked the lame ass square for the rest of his time here?

"I dunno bout that. Tha job listing mentioned yew guys drug test randomly."

Nathan pushes back in his chair, chuckling.

"Dude that's for like, meth and shit. Nobody gives a fuck if you smoke."

"I-" His face feels warm again "is this like a test?" He can't beat around the bush any longer. There's no way this guy is for real.

Nathan sits up, pulling himself towards the desk, a red button beneath his fingertip.

"Watch this" He's grinning as he presses down, the intercom clicking on.

"Hey Charles. Tell the new guy it's cool to smoke"

"Nathan."

He sounds so done with him.

"Don't be an asshole. Tell him it's cool."

"Tell me you aren't smoking right now. On the job."

"Quit being a square. Just tell him."

With a heavy sigh, Charles responds.

"While we do not test specifically for Marijuana, it is highly discouraged to engage in getting high at work."

Nathan laughs as he releases the button.

"Told you dude. We don't give a shit."

Pale hands outstretch again, passing the torch. It feels like he's in middle school again, the cool kids giggling as they hand him the bud.

He swallows hard, fingers brushing against rough digits.

"Fuck it" he pulls in deep, his lungs set ablaze.

"Fuck yeah" Nathan's eyes light up "Finally someone fucking cool."

[carrotcouple]

It had been simple.

Going through the motions, investigating things that Nahida asked him to, picking fights with arrogant scholars, reading as many books in the forbidden section as he wanted to, rejecting invitations to go drinking with Cyno and Kaveh, writing when he felt like it, teaching Collei how to read.

He'd pretty much moved on. And by 'moved on' he meant that he compartmentalized, putting past events into a box and throwing them into a corner of his mind that he never visited.

So he hadn't expected to be hit with reality quite like this.

"Are you alright?" Haypasia asked him.

The thing was that Fujin was in every sense, a fallen God. Had it been the days of the Archon War he might have even taken Nahida's place as Archon of the people of Sumeru, and Celestia itself would have acknowledged him.

And the one person who'd seen his very core and had become his one and only worshipper and follower now stood in front of him and she had no idea who he was. That was the price he paid for erasing himself from history. Not that he would want her to remember him anyways.

There couldn't be any world where she would have wanted to serve a pathetic failure of a God. She'd witnessed his short reign and then watched him fall.

"I'm fine," Fujin crossed his arms. "I don't see how I wouldn't be fine. Did you really think I'd be weak enough to get hurt from someone as small as you knocking into me?"

"Oh dear," she said, scratching the back of her head. "I didn't mean to offend you."

"Offend me?" Fujin laughed. His stomach was twisting into knots. She was important to him. So important to him that he felt it in his non-existent soul. The failed God in him desperately yearned for the devotion of its only devotee.

But he was nothing to her now. Not even a memory. He didn't even exist in a world before now. Not to her at least.

"If you offended me, little girl, I'd have thrown you out a window. Remember to watch where you're going." Fujin turned and started marching away. He couldn't even consider this as her betraying him. By erasing himself from history, he'd been the one to betray her, not the other way around.

"Wait a minute! I'm not-"

"Haypasia? Is that you? Getting confused and lost as usual then? Are you back after having eaten all the drugs the Forest Watchers could pump into your system?" Fujin heard another student call out to Haypasia and he stopped in his tracks.

"How dare you! I research a legitimate field! Also that was incredibly rude to the Forest Watchers! Watch your tongue!" Haypasia cried out.

"Everyone here knows that you and the Forest Watchers are in cahoots to get more fundi-"

Fujin grabbed the student's collar and swung them so they were dangling out of a window.

"How about you try finishing that sentence?" Fujin snarled. "I wonder how long it'll take for you to hit the roots of the Divine Tree of Wisdom? Plenty of time to reflect on the brainlessness of your actions, yes? They call the Akedimiya the center of all knowledge and wisdom in all of Tevyat but all I meet are buffoons who cannot rub two brain cells together but are riding on the esteem of their school. Tell me, how many things have you achieved? Surely you must be one of the top students of the Akedimiya if you are able to wag your tongue so freely?"

"Mercy!" The student cried out, gripping his hand tightly, eyes wide and fear all over their face. Their limbs were flailing, obviously not wanting to die.

"You talk about the Forest Watchers stealing funding they don't need. I should throw you into a Withering Zone and see how you fare. Then you can prove they don't need funding, yes? As long as you manage to get out alive, of course."

Everyone in the hall was staring at him, terrified.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry! It was rude of me to say-"

"Hat Guy!"

Fujin sighed. That stupid fucking name. He needed to bring this up to Nahida. He turned to see Tirzad, one of the older Vahumana scholars staring at him in scandalized horror.

"Put that student down this instant! This is a sacred institution! You cannot bring your uncouth bullying in-" Tirzad began.

"Well," Fujin said, "I'd like to see you do something about it then."

He was about to go back to threatening the student when he saw Haypasia again. She looked scared. Scared of him.

Ah.

She really didn't know who he was. She didn't know that she had seen everything. But she no longer knew him.

Fujin laughed a little.

He didn't know why he felt such a keen and aching sense of loss. He had known for five hundred years that he was destined to be alone and unloved. That was why everyone had either thrown him away, used him, or left him.

"Nahida will understand," Fujin told Tirzad whose jaw dropped at him using the Archon's name so flippantly and casually and then he let go of the student.

Several people including the student screamed as the student went plummeting towards the lower levels of Sumeru City. Fujin flipped everyone in the hallway off, glanced at Haypasia's face, and then jumped out the window.

He caught the student just before they hit the pavement. Then he gently lowered them to the ground where they collapsed in a heap.

"You should write a book," Fujin grinned. "'How to offend Hat Guy and Survive'. How does that sound?" He patted the student's shoulder and then decided to meander into the Grand Bazaar to maybe find Nilou and watch one of the theater's rehearsals before Nahida found him and scolded him for throwing people out of the windows again.

His mind wandered back to Haypasia.

He wondered if she had enough funding for her research. He had a stupid amount of mora and people were allowed to anonymously donate to students.

He hissed under his breath, trying to squash the failed God that lived in his hollow chest. Haypasia wasn't his anymore.

He crossed his arms and unhappily headed to the Grand Bazaar.

[crowsandmurder]

❛ you can take my clothes off for me. ❜ brooke to nathan pls

Smut starters // @story1ines // Accepting!

Nathan knew Peyton would kill him, if she ever found out. But, they were broken up, well for now anyway. Besides, Brooke hadn't been against the idea. She and Peyton had a fight or something. He hadn't really been listening. He knew he was going to hook up with a random cheerleader tonight, but he didn't feel like it being Bevin. Everyone thought he fucked whoever, but he needed to at least halfway be able to talk to them and Bevin reached this point, where she lost the few brain cells she had. But, he had been sitting on the couch with Brooke, and then they were in his room. She was very willing, and he had an idea.

Stopping kissing her, he grabbed the camera and he said something, reassuring her that he would get rid of it, and then he missed to lean over her. He definitely couldn't tell anyone about this one. Peyton would kill them both, but then he stopped thinking about Peyton altogether and smirked, because Brooke fucking Davis was in his bed, under him and the more he touched her, he could feel her arch up towards him and he ground his hips against hers, determined to make her moan for him, which she did.

Then, he heard her words. "Well, I could do that, but you have to take mine off too." His hand went to her bra and he expertly unhooked it, letting his hands move over her flesh their teasing the skin with a smirk, before kissing down her neck and biting down along the top of her breast, with a smirk. "No telling, so good luck with that." He knew it'd leave a mark.

His hand then reached up under her skirt, and he ran his hand over the fabric there and smirked. "Definitely no regrets from either of us." Pushing it to the side, he teased her flesh, not pushing his finger inside but teasing it and making sure to rub her heated flesh. "You know, I could always leave a mark with my mouth here too, if you're good." Finally, he pulled them down and her skirt and leaned back to look at her.

Fuck, she was hot. Did this really have to be one time? He was pretty sure that she was good at this. Down to his jeans and boxers, he smirked.

"So tell me, Brooke Davis, do you think you can get my clothes off? Like I said if you're good, I'll reward you. I don't want you to be good, because fuck that, I want to know how good you are, especially if we can only do this one." His lips moved to hers again in a searing kiss and he moved up on his knees again.

"Clothes...I have condoms. I'm a Scott."

[aita-blorbos]

AITA for arranging a whole bunch of needless death and violence for mostly entertainment purposes?

I'm immortal. Not the boring, "a stake in the heart will end everything" kind of immortal— I mean the well and truly cannot die sort. (Well. That did get proven wrong eventually, but that's a story for another day.)

So anyway, as you might imagine, a life as long as mine gets rather boring. One century, when I was particularly bored, I ventured down to this city— a grim old city, the sort of place where the rain beats down like coffin nails and the air wafts with the cigarette stench of betrayal.

I felt right at home.

To occupy my time, I took over the vast processor made up of the consciousnesses of everyone who'd ever died in the city, which was used to power the entire place. This established me as something of a powerful person in the city, meaning when desperate people needed some very particular favors... Well, I was just the person to ask.

Some special few of these desperate people took my interest. A starving artist type, willing to do anything to fish his lost lover's consciousness out of the processor. A ruthless numbskull trying to buy his way out of his father's debt. A blind and disgraced doctor needing a way out of the city. An heiress to a family with a sullied name, trying to rebuild her parents' empire.

I brought this not-so-merry crew together and set them the task of finding a way into a secret vault that was said to contain something that could take down the processor and the powerful families running the city. I promised them all that, should they succeed, they would get what they needed to achieve their respective goals. Whether or not I planned to come through on that promise is irrelevant, seeing as they're all dead now.

So they got down to the vault, and the big guy, the one with far too many muscles and far too few brain cells, set about trying to beat the code to vault out of its creator, a tortured drunken ex-soldier who'd seen far better days. When that failed, "the suits" as I'd been calling them, thus named for their matching pinstripe outfits (my personal touch), started going through the four tasks or Trials needed to open the vault without the code.

First, a trial of wits. The doctor fellow made short work of this one, using the cables winding from his empty eye sockets to deal with whatever program the computerized lock was running.

Next, a trial of strength. A rather dramatic way of saying the big guy had to turn a heavy wheel.

Third, a trial of song. The young, lovelorn musician sang his heart out about his troubles and regrets. All very moving, I'm sure. The third lock was opened.

Now, for the fourth. A trial of love. What I failed to mention to any of them beforehand, was that the fourth and final trial required one of their number to sacrifice themself without hesitation.

This had been meant for the heiress, who was said to be madly in love with a famous hero of the city, but as it turned out, their entire dalliance had been a scheme to try to regain her social standing after her parents' grievous and very public misstep (which had cost some dozens of people their lives.) So, she was out.

The delicate musical lad offered himself up, but he couldnt see it through. He stepped into the chamber, braced himself, but at the last second he fucked it up. He looked back.

At this point, a friend of mine, the one that really wanted that vault opened, who'd been watching the whole ordeal, stepped forward. Hed figured out that the "without hesitation" caveat was tested by a simple motion sensor inside the chamber, so told the suits that three of them would get a pay increase if they tied up the fourth and shoved them into the chamber. Didnt matter who, so long as the vault was opened.

In the ensuing chaos, our bloodied, beaten little war hero took their chance. They used one of the last three laser shots left in their blaster, shooting it through the large diamond they kept in their pocket, which split the one beam into many. A shot for each of the suits and my friend. Some even got two.

And so, all outside the vault was blood and death. And our broken soldier, they got up, and they put in the code to the vault.

Inside was nothing special. Not if you were expecting some great weapon or hoard of riches or anything. It was just a tree— the very last one on the planet— and a patch of grass. But it was more than that. It was the only place on the planet one could go to die a true death, without their mind being trapped in a half-conscious hell to power the city for the rest of forever.

And that was just what they did.

The vault sealed behind them, never to reopen.

So anyway! TLDR AITA for arranging a kind-of-heist mission that I knew had a decent chance of ending with everybody involved dying mostly because I was bored?

[josephquinncurl]

I've never been happier than joe isn't on social media especially Twitter. Cause I literally just saw people sending him death threats and accusing of being homophobic and racist over a dumb MTV popcorn award. Just to then say is his fans doing too much or being cringy. Insane truly, I can't be on that app for more than 20 min cause I just lose brain cells reading so much bs. Acting as if bella cared about it like they won 3 awards I'm sure it's all good and happy.

I even saw a post saying he just won casue he's on st and st has many fans and thanks to the character not his acting, like hello? Who made that character good? A ghost? The reason he won is his good acting that made him get his own fans outside st. And st lost to the last of us on almost everything, tlou is a huge show getting all the hype now and huge audience too. Anyways sorry for another rant. I'm done I promise I'll post only cute funny things after this 💖🙏

[rocket-69]

Just started reading Ramshackle and was really struck by the way you wrote the AI systems as this living breathing community - I just found it really beautiful.

This is such a kind thing to say, Anon, thank you. It sounds like I'm on the right track. I hope you enjoy my silly little story.

I have a lot of thoughts I'm going to put under a readmore about Dead Man's Switch/Integration-

I wanted the community to feel like an Isle of Lost Toys, for war machines. A place that robots heard about over radio blip encoded transmissions, a place that might have the replacement parts they need, or at least a safe place with others like themselves. I generated a lot of ideas about what kind of robots would find themselves in such a place, and how far I could stretch the definition of robot/individual/sapient being. I can't wait to introduce them.

I suppose I can talk about a few of them right now at least. I knew I wanted a "hivemind AI" but I wanted to avert tropes about complete and utter domination and subsumption into the hive mind. I still want DIASPAR to feel vast, like the Pando tree colony or the Argentine Ant colony that spans three continents. Their other inspiration is an overly complicated article I read once and half remembered about how cities themselves could be analyzed and evaluated as super-organisms, the residents of which work as cells... all the articles I've searched up now are very complicated and making my dumb brain hurt though so idk which one it is haha. <3 But anyway, DIASPAR has no interest in taking over other robots, or land grabbing, or anything beyond what they and their community need. I'm not sure that's how it comes across now, but DIASPAR will keep popping up.

RUBY and ROSEY are both roomba representation that Fallout lacks, ROSEY of course being the knife roomba. I want to follow the thread of inhuman beings who are nevertheless still individuals, in spite of lacking the kind of traits that "sapient" robots are usually given- a verbal communication method, desires or interests beyond their programming, an interest in transcendence. RUBY is very content to vacuum Integration for the rest of its life.

The eyebots are just the Fates because I think it's fun.

[showfallfoodcourtemployee]

[Transcript Begin.]

[The video begins with two people running across a desolate parking lot. The camera shakes, never focusing on one target. Through the moving video, one individual is visible, the other holding the camera and sometimes showing their own footsteps. Heavy breathing is heard through the other small sounds such as clothes ruffling, footsteps, or accessories hitting against each other.]

Tom: Stupid brat all she had to do was listen.

[The video zooms in on the man, a cigarette lit in his hand, He soon releases a puff of smoke before the two individuals get closer.]

T: Can I help you two?

Madeline: Yeah, yeah! I have one question.

T: And what is that? I'm on break, so hurry up.

M: Yeah, so, why don’t you want your child to be happy?

T: Let me guess you know Mari… Let me tell you something. I want her to be happy, that's why I'm doing this.

M: You used ‘her,’ you do know your own child’s pronouns, don’t you?

T: Yes, she/her, the pronouns chosen for her at birth. Why don't you fuck off?

M: I’ll give you one last chance, mister.

T: Buzz off, you weirdo.

M: You asked for it.

[Madeline cracks her knuckles, then lands a punch straight into Tom’s face.]

T: YOU LITTLE!

[Tom attempts to punch back, but misses due to the pain.]

M: Crazy how you can’t hit a 17 year old. Come on, I have less experience than you!

T: SHUT UP YOU BRAT!

[Tom attempts to punch again, he hits the air.]

M: You’re all bark no bite are you? Try harder!

T: STUPID KID!

[Tom throws a third punch, He hits Madeline in the arm.]

M:You couldn’t aim a little higher?

[Tom tries to slap Madeline, he misses. Madeline then counters by kicking him in the stomach.]

[A crash is heard from behind as someone smashes in a window nearby, the person climbs in and falls to the floor with little to no grace.]

T: WHO JUST BROKE A WINDOW?

M: Getting robbed and beat up? Skill issue.

Edgar: I’m not here to fucking rob you, not like I would, this place is ass!

T: WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU?

E: Doesn’t matter, I have a crowbar, dickhead!

M: No but actually, who are you?

[Edgar lifts his left hand and opens his mouth to speak, but decides against it and just points at his hand instead.]

M: Oh! Hi Edgar!

T: So, your name is Edgar? Let me guess, another one of Mari's friends?

E: You could say that, yeah. Anyway, uh. Who’s winning?

T: DOESN'T MATTER!

[Tom attempts to punch Edgar, but he misses again.]

E: You’re really bad at punching people.

[Edgar swings his crowbar at Tom, it connects with his ribs, causing him to hunch over.]

T: Damnit! y'know if you kill me… Mari won't have any parents.

M: They don’t need your good for nothing ass!

E: Also, isn’t it your fault they don’t have a mom? They mentioned that at the Denny’s.

T: That bitch was gonna let Mari live in her own stupidity. I had no choice!

M: All I'm hearing is Blah..Blah..Blah. No choice? What does that even mean?

E: There’s always a choice. You just didn’t want to consider the other one.

T: I WASN'T GONNA LOSE MY DAUGHTER TO SOME STUPID PERSON!

M: Damn.. Guess we have to kill you now! You had a chance.

T: She’s crazy, why would I let my daughter date someone who doesn't have enough brain cells to understand how not to get kidnapped, let alone that you can't change gender.

[Edgar laughs, and takes a step towards Tom.]

E: I’m getting real tired of hearing you talk, Tom.

T: Same here, jerk.

E: Just call me a bitch, dude, this isn’t a children’s show. I’m pretty sure I can handle it.

T: How about you go die with that sarah kid then you bitch, lord knows if Mari lost two people she cared about maybe she would finally come home.

E: Tom, Mari tried to throw themselves off a bridge after your little chat in the Denny’s. If they lost anyone else, you’d lose them forever.

T: Whoever stopped her should have let her jump. That brat is dead to me.

M: What the fuck is wrong with you.

E: Well, they’re dead to you, big whoop. Guess what? You’re just dead.

[Edgar swings the crowbar at Tom’s neck, there is a sickening crack! As Tom’s neck snaps, and he falls limp to the floor.]

M: Oh shit..

E: Oops. Uh, okay, what now…

Olive: Skill issue!

M: Let’s leave him bleeding out! Just like, clear evidence or something!!

E: I’ll put a few pieces of glass near him, maybe… Wait, put that rock next to him as well.

M: Alrighty then.

[Madeline places the rock next to Tom's head while giggling. They then pick up a couple of shards of glass and shove them into Tom’s neck, leaving some around the body as well.]

E: Now it looks like an accident. We should probably skedaddle.

M: You just killed someone and you say skedaddle? Corny ass..

E: Well, what other words am I supposed to use?

M: Leave? Get out? Anything other than skedaddle?

E: It sounds better.

M: Okay bro. I'm surprised you didn’t call me homeskillet yet.

E: I completely forgot about that… I still could, honestly.

M: Don’t.

[Edgar chuckles, hesitating before speaking again.]

E: Whatever you say, homeskillet!

[Madeline groans, and puts her hands onto her face, throwing her head back as well.]

E: Well. Um. We probably should leave before someone reports this.

M: Alright. We’re going to go get drinks.

E: I would say you’re too young for that, but I just killed someone, so it would be a bit hypocritical to tell you that underaged drinking is against the law.

M: Exactly, alright, let’s head out. For real this time.

E: Alright, see you later. I guess.

M: See ya!

[Transcript end.]

[zablife]

Close as Strangers

Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw x female reader

Summary: When Bradley is deployed for the first time your relationship is put to the test.

Author’s Note: Requested by a lovely anon who asked for a Rooster fic based on the song “Close as Strangers.” Please disregard any inaccuracies about the US military, I have no idea what I'm talking about!

Warnings: angst followed by fluff

When you started dating Bradley, he had mentioned the possibility of a deployment and you’d immediately put the thought out of your mind. It wasn’t something either of you wanted to dwell on so early in your relationship. You chose to focus on the time you were spending together now doing all the things you loved most. There were early morning jogs on the beach, lessons side by side at the piano that always devolved into fits of laughter and dinner preparation in your tiny kitchen followed by the most mind-blowing sex you’d ever experienced.

Lost in the bliss of your newfound happiness, you hadn’t wanted to accept the news when you found out about Bradley’s orders. He didn’t know how to tell you he was leaving for six months and hadn’t mentioned it when you left for the Hard Deck one warm night in June. It was Hangman who let it slip and Bradley watched as your composure crumbled at his words. You rushed outside, fearing you’d sob uncontrollably in front of everyone if you stayed.

Even though you’d only known each other a short time, your feelings for Bradley were strong and you hoped things would work out. That’s what your heart told you anyway. Your brain wasn’t sure your connection would remain through the next few months. You tried to be as honest with Bradley as you could about your fears, talking about this before he left and he promised you he would make an effort through calls and texts, even with timezones between you. 

Now it had been three months and you were feeling so lost. Work was taking up your daytime hours, but at night you were all alone. You’d close your eyes and picture him smiling next to you in bed with his arm draped over your hip. The waiting made you feel pathetic though, hovering around your phone for a call that might not come in and if it did, it might drop out mid sentence. You’d never take out your anger on Bradley because it wasn’t his fault he didn’t get reception on the air craft carrier, but you often wanted to cry from frustration. Every day you felt a little bit further away from him and there was nothing you could do to bridge the gap.

Your friends would invite you out dancing, trying their best to cheer you up, but their words only ended up making you doubt yourself more. They asked why you were punishing yourself waiting for a man who hadn’t told you he loved you. Then after a few drinks they’d be off with some guys they’d met and you were left with an empty table of drinks and thoughts you’d rather avoid. Were you running out of time to be young and carefree waiting for someone it might not work out with? 

One night you’d returned home late, kicking off your heels and sitting numbly on the couch clutching a bottle of water. Your phone lit up suddenly with a text from Bradley and your heart leapt when you read what it said, “Every day gets harder to stay away from you.” You smiled in spite of yourself because you knew he was thinking of you. As the phone rang, you picked up excitedly, but all you heard was static. You threw your cell across the carpet in anger. Why did this have to be so hard?

Meanwhile on the ship, Bradley tried your number again. He was becoming frustrated with the lack of communication as well.  “Am I losing her?” he wondered. Whenever he called, you were out with your friends. He knew you were allowed to have a life of your own, but maybe you were moving on. The other airmen and sailors were always riding him about his beautiful girlfriend and how she must be blind to be with him. It was all a joke, but it was all he could think about. The final straw was a piece of unsolicited advice from a jaded sailor who warned him to break up with you before you started cheating on him. That had been hard to listen to.

The next day you both breathed a sigh of relief when you were finally able to talk. The comforting warmth of your initial greetings didn’t last for long, however, as you realized it was time for a difficult conversation. 

“Hey, baby, how are you?” Bradley asked relieved to hear your voice, but hesitant at the same time. It had been awhile since you spoke.

“I’m ok…well, maybe not so good here without you,” you finally admitted, picking at your nails nervously. You felt guilty for not being more upbeat, but you owed it to Bradley to be honest.

“I know what you mean. It kills me thinking of you on your own,” he said sympathizing with you. He leaned against his bunk, straining to hear your voice, trying to picture you curled up in bed at home.

Not wanting to waste time with small talk, you began to discuss what was at the forefront of your mind. “Bradley, listen, I’ve been thinking… Is this as good as we’re gonna get? I mean, I haven’t seen your face in ages and I barely get to hear your voice. I feel like we’re as close as strangers,” you said voice breaking at the admission of your feelings. A tear slipped down your cheek, bittersweet relief washing over you as you poured your heart out. 

For a  moment you wondered if you’d lost him because the line was so silent. On the other end Bradley was holding his breath, containing the deep ache he felt in his chest. “I don’t know what to say. I’m doing the best I can. If I could get off this ship and come show you how much I miss you, you know I would,” he said softly, sounding hurt and confused by your words. He knew the demands of his work were difficult, but he thought you understood. Maybe the advice he'd heard from others about civilian girls had been right, you didn’t want this life after all.

Needing to know if you intended on breaking up with him, he took a shaky breath then the questions fueled by insecurity tumbled from his lips. “Are you telling me everything’s changed? Do you want to move on? What do you want, baby?" 

You took a moment to consider what it was you were really asking. What you needed was assurance, to know the man you loved wanted you as much as you wanted him. You looked at the framed picture of the two of you on your dresser and took a leap of faith. “I think I let my friends get in my head, but I know now I want to be with you and nobody else even if it hurts. If I told you I’ll always wait for you, what would you say?” You asked biting your lip, hands shaking with fear and anticipation of his reply.

Bradley exhaled in relief. He wished he could take you in his arms and comfort you. He would have to rely on showing his affection the best way he knew how under the circumstances. Taking a gentle tone he promised, “I know it hurts to be apart, sweetheart, but I won’t ever give up on trying to make you happy. I’m always coming back to you because I love you.” That was all you needed to hear to know you’d made the right decision.

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