#anyway if its late night and i'm drawing now you know what it is

[thephoenixcave]

late night doodle sketch. it's edgar macking up on terra. it's ALWAYS edgar macking up on terra. don't know what he's saying but man is it working i needed to see if I still knew how to draw human bodies (or human/esper bodies)

[steakout-05]

for months now i have had this little story idea bouncing around in my head for an AU of Jetpack Joyride where Barry is stuck inside a big expermental time loop conducted by Legitimate Research to create an army of randomly selected time-travelling soldiers. the idea is very much still rough and i dunno if and when i'll develop it into a bigger thing, but it's a pretty cool idea and it's a twist on the JJ game that i've never really seen much exploration on.

basically, it focuses on Barry, who is the sort of Patient Zero of an experimental concentrated time-fuckery technology LR is working on. every single day, at exactly the same time, Barry goes out to work his salesman job, discovers the jetpack, breaks into the laboratory, takes it for a joyride, eventually gets hit by an obstacle and dies. the next day, Barry goes out to work his salesman job, discovers the jetpack, breaks into the lab, takes it for a joyride and dies. and he does the same exact thing the next day, and the next day, and the next day, and the next day... he's pretty much stuck in a loop of the exact same events happening repeatedly every single day, and he has absolutely no idea about it. that is, until there's a glitch in the system, and Barry progressively becomes a lot more suspicious and paranoid about the situation he's in. the rest of this post is gonna be REALLY spoilery (like i literally just explain big important chunks of the story for several paragraphs) if i ever make this into a full-fledged fanfic, so i'm gonna put it under a keep reading thingy. also it is... quite long and convoluted lol.

as the story goes on, it focuses more on the mental degredation of Barry as he starts uncovering all these weird clues, slowly trying to piece together what's going on and driving himself insane, because every time a reset occurs, his memory of the previous loop ever happening is completely wiped and everything he did that day goes all the way back to square one. since the malfunctioning of LR's technology though, Barry has been getting little nuggets of deja vu and half-remembered fragments of dying before a reset. this eventually becomes him repeating things to himself, little phrases and codes over and over and over in hopes that it will persist into the next reset. this eventually becomes symbols stuck up on the walls of his room and then progresses to entire rituals to help him remember and little behaviourisms like tics and stims to let him know he's in another loop. he becomes more and more panicked and unsettled, paranoid that someone - or something - is watching him closely. additionally, he keeps having disturbing dreams in the early hours of the morning before he gets up to go to work, ones that are symbolic and prophetic, as if they're trying to warn him about something. i've had concepts of him waking up on top of a pile of millions of mangled carcasses that all look exactly like Barry, and having on them them forcefully grab onto his leg and pull him down with the rest of them. it's kinda like the nightmare Woody has in Toy Story 2, but like, dead guys everywhere, lol.

the backstory of this whole thing is kinda insane. basically, Legitimate Research is a sketchy government funded facility that's doing secret time experiments to create the strongest beings for a purpose that's somewhat similar to Brains' Zomb Bomb plan from AOZ (i haven't fully decided yet). Barry is someone who has been randomly selected for their newest version of the concentrated time loop experiment, where patients will be put under looping tests to extract data about their strength, agility and performance and decide what they need to supplement them with in order to create the perfect soldier.

Barry was 22 years old when he was selected. he was actually a relatively normal local Fish N' Chips vendor living in New South Wales, but one day, when he recieved an exciting letter in the mail about a new ambitious job opportunity, he completely disappeared without a trace and seemed to have been entirely erased from the minds of everyone he had ever known. Barry had actually been kidnapped and ensnared into a mind-experiments facility of the laboratory, where they proceeded to wipe his mind, proof of his existence and his entire personhood up to this point, and replaced all of it with fake memories to fill in the gaps. he was then placed in stasis and to be injected with high doses of strength drugs as they crafted a new life for him behind the scenes. a new house, in a new state, all with new stories and memorabilia meant to be lived out by new person. now, he was Barry Steakfries in Queensland, a rough-around-the-edges guy with a passion for action movies and destruction. he was a revel with a thirst for chaos and freedom, but he just didn't have the means to achieve it yet. it was all according to plan.

a big part of the story i want to tell that involves him is that at some point, Barry tries to break free from the time loop by doing something different. this takes a lot of pre-planning, memory rituals and repeating details to himself, but after he wakes up from a reset and gets out of bed, he hesitates, choosing to go to a different place to sell his gramophones that day. he deliberately tries his best to avoid Legitimate Research's headquarters as much as he can, and while he doesn't completely remember why he's doing it, he has a deep gut feeling that he should stay away from them at all costs. so he does. and at first, it goes well. the day is different, his choices seem to actually matter and for once, the feeling of deja vu isn't tearing him apart... until a crazy freak accident happens that forces Barry to die and reset the time loop again, wiping away everything he had done that day. Legitimate Research is now forcefully trying to stop him from knowing what the hell is going on by forcing him to die with each now discovery he makes, and Barry has to figure out more and more creative solutions to averting their surveillance and trying to get the hell out of the loop.

Craig will also be involved with the story too!! i'm not exactly sure what exactly the events leading up to Barry discovering and meeting him would be, but it'd be kinda halfway-late-ish into the story where Barry manages to cut off LR's surveillance of him, breaks into the laboratory and searches through its archives for anything relating to time. during this raid, he accidentally discovers the true Patient Zero to this time experiment: a broken, decrepit shell of a man who has been hooked up to a set of wires and locked away deep into the laboratory, never meant to be discovered by anyone, only known simply as #000 'Craig'. Craig was the very first human they used to run an early prototype of these experiments, but through malfunctions in the threads of LR's technology, he ended up knowing too much and tried to break free from his time loop, which resulted in him being dragged out of reality and becoming completely detached from his own time, stopping his aging process completely and practically allowing him to exist forever and persistently through every reset unaffected. LR relocated him and considered him a catastrophic failure, locking him away in a cell deep in the bowels of the laboratory before destroying and erasing every archive of him ever having existed in any point in time. and now, the same thing is about to happen to Barry if he doesn't figure out a way to stop what's happening quickly. Barry, outisde of LR, is the only one who is aware of Craig's existence in this timeline. Barry makes a vow to make sure that he will never ever forget Craig, no matter what happens to him, no matter how many times his timeline gets reset, because he is the only other person on the whole world who truly understands what he's going through.

at the very end of the story, when Barry finally escapes the time loop and is about to enter into a new reality where none of this ever happened, he reaches out a hand to Craig and offers he come with him to live. Craig, however, rejects the offer, sadly confessing to Barry that because of his disconect from the threads of time progression itself, Craig must stay behind and be erased along with everything inside this one and let Barry live his life. Barry protests, insisting that his life wouldn't be complete without him and that they've already gone through so much together, but Craig assures him that this is the best for the both of them, and that Barry must leave him soon before the window to escape closes. Barry gives Craig once last goodbye, holding him close and basking in his presence for the final time. he closes his eyes, presses his head against Craig's and whispers "I promise I'll never forget you." before he slowly lets him go, not breaking their locked gaze on each other for even a second as he steps into the portal and ventures into an entirely new reality, never to return.

i want there to be an epilogue part where Barry starts his new life and goes looking for a place to stay, and he comes across the place where LR used to be, which is instead occupied with a big square fence plot and a sign that says "UNDER CONSTRUCTION: NEW RESTAURANT TO BE BUILT". Barry stares at it for a moment and reflects on everything that has happened. all the hellish experiments that were once held inside this very plot of land, all the trauma he went through to get to this point, Craig's sacrifice, everything has lead up to him standing here, in the right place, at the right time, to finally live the life he should've had to begin with. eventually, he turns away, continuing to walk down the street. he should go check that place out sometime.

(insert "what a fucked up dream for a baby to have" ending from 'then what' here)

[gor3-hound]

i apologise if you feel something

ft. leon kennedy x fem!reader

cw: 18+ content, dead dove, domestic abuse, possessive leon, toxic behaviour, heavy non-con, choking, p in v, improper prep, blood as lube, creampie, physical assault, crying, BRIEF murder threat, guilt, very brief praise n degradation mixed in

a/n: hiii! this is written w re2 leon in mind!! pls be aware there are quite graphic depictions of co-dependency n abuse in this one. it's late, so pls ignore typos !! title from bmth song of the same name

word count: 1.8k words

Leon wasn't the same man you knew before Raccoon City. When he first came home after his first day, he was clingy. He wouldn't leave you alone, following you around like a lost puppy. You didn't know the extent of what he went through at the beginning, but he slowly began to open up about the horrors he saw.

You were there for him. Of course you were. You let him stay at your place now his new apartment was left in ruins after the bomb hit. Not that he could stay in that godforsaken city, anyway. He still dreamt of the infected most nights, waking up in a cold sweat.

You could have handled that, if it was all it was. You wanted to be there for him, help him recover as best he could. You loved him, and you wanted him to be okay more than anything.

But he started changing. You couldn't so much as try and leave for the store without him crowding you against the wall, demanding to know exactly what you needed. If you were out and didn't answer his texts, he'd make sure to let you know you fucked up.

He wasn't above hitting you, gripping your throat until you almost passed out. Anything to keep you under his thumb, to make sure you wouldn't leave him. He'd seen too much death so early in his life.

He wasn't going to lose you, too.

You couldn't take it anymore. He controlled every aspect of your life. It was getting to the point that you'd flinch anytime he moved too fast. You hated being scared in your own apartment.

You tried bringing it up gently, tell him it just wasn't working out for you. After all, he'd be leaving for military training soon, and you needed to finish up your college studies and think about building a career.

You regretted it as soon as the words came out of your mouth.

“You think you get to leave me?” He says with a dry, humourless laugh. He stalks towards you like a lion cornering its prey, backing you up against the wall. He cages you in with his larger frame, looking down at you with a dark glint in his eyes.

“That's cute, baby. Really. You think you get a fucking choice?” The words are punctuated with a harsh grip on your throat, squeezing you so hard that your airflow is instantly cut off. You can feel the blood rushing to your face as you try and suck in a breath, your hands clawing at his wrists to try and get them off.

Your nails draw blood, and that just pisses him off even more. He yanks you towards him slightly by your neck before slamming you back against the wall, your head hitting it with a loud thud.

Pain shoots across your system, your vision blurry with the unshed tears forming. He lets go of your throat after another minute, watching with a sadistic glee as you crumple to the floor at his feet. He squats down, watching as you choke in air to fill your burning lungs.

“You're the only good thing left in my life, baby. You don't get to leave me.”

“You're crazy…” You gasp out, pushing on the floor to attempt to stand up again. He was dangerous. You needed to get out before he killed you.

His eye twitches at your words, and a foot goes flying for your stomach before you can even register it. You fall to the floor once more, sobbing as you curl in on yourself in a pathetic attempt to protect your body from more hits.

“I'm crazy?” He says quietly, an eerie sense of calm in his voice. He stands over you, placing his foot on your wrist before grinding the sole of his boot into your wrist, making you cry out in pain.

“I'm crazy?” He repeats louder this time, almost yelling at you. He yanks you up by your hair, dragging you into the bedroom and throwing you onto the bed. “You're the crazy one! You think this is bad, sweetheart? I can make you disappear.”

"You want to leave me, huh?" His breathing is hard and fast. "I'm crazy, huh?" The veins in his neck are bulging out, his hands fiddling with the buckle of his belt.

"I'll show you crazy."

Your entire body is shaking, but you have to get out. You have to get to your phone. You look at the door, and that was your worst mistake. In a flash, he's slapping you across the face hard enough that your ears ring, blood filling your mouth.

“Cute. Real fucking cute.” He hisses, grabbing your jaw roughly so you're facing him. He seems to get even angrier when he sees how terrified you look.

“Aww… baby. You're scared?” He coos, a mocking pout making its way to his lips. “You should be grateful. I'm keeping you safe. You have no right to be scared. If you knew what I've seen, what I've been through-”

He pauses to suck in a shaky breath through his teeth, images of the horrors he'd endured during Raccoon City flashing through his mind and making him feel nauseous.

“You should consider yourself lucky.” He says in a low tone, his expression hardening as he looks down at you. “You haven't been exposed to anything worth being scared of, princess.”

“Don't worry, though. I understand. I'll just have to fuck some sense back into you, hmm? Remind you of who's been by your side since day fucking one, keeping you safe.”

Your eyes widen at his words, and it seems to renew your fight. You struggle against him all over again, crying as you push and kick at his torso, thrashing as he pins you down on the bed. “Leon… Leon, no, wait… babe, fuck I'm sorry. I didn't mean it, m'so sorry, just…”

He shoves three fingers into your mouth, the tips jarring your throat and making you sputter and choke. There's a steady stream of tears running down your face at his point, your breaths heavy through your nose.

“Do you ever shut up?” He grunts, tugging down your pyjama pants and underwear, frowning when he sees you're not wet for him. That's new. Oh well. Wasn't gonna stop him.

He pulls his fingers out of your mouth, coated with a mix of your blood and spit. He uses that to ease his way into you, pushing two fingers in straight away and spreading them inside of you to stretch you out for him.

“Leon, stop… that hurts.” You whimper, squeezing your eyes shut and kicking your legs out weakly. He's not doing this for you. Doesn't try to hit your sweet spot or rub your clit to ease the discomfort like he usually does.

“One more word from you, and I swear to god, I'm going to break your pretty fucking neck.” He grunts, yanking his fingers out of your pussy to free his cock from his jeans.

You're nowhere near prepared enough to take him. You cry out in pain as he bottoms out in one thrust. He doesn't give you a second to adjust, nothing. He just starts thrusting, chasing his own high as he fucks into you.

Either you're getting wet, or you're bleeding. Whichever one it is, slick lines your pussy and makes his thrusts easier. He groans as he continues to rock his fat cock into your cunt, his head thrown back in pleasure.

His hands grip your thighs as you try and close them, holding them wide apart so he has full access to fuck you as much as he wants. You give up, going limp as he takes what he wants from you.

“There we go… shit, you feel so fucking good. Even when you say no, she sucks me right in.” He moans, his hips rabbiting even faster against you, the sounds of slapping skin filling the room.

“Such a… god.” He sucks in a breath through his teeth, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment. “Perfect little slut for me… pussy always squeezes me so good…”

His eyes flutter open, and he tilts his head down to take you in. He finally looks at your face and sees how much you're sobbing, the pure terror in your face. His brows furrow, and he frowns. He looks down further, trailing your body and noticing the bruise forming on your stomach. When his gaze reaches his cock and he sees the blood coating it, a look of panic flashes across his face for a second.

He seems to realise what he's doing, his expression switching to one of worry in an instant. His hips stutter, but don't stop. He pulls out just enough to spit on his dick, trying to make it hurt less for you. He starts to sob, his hands cupping your cheeks and caressing them softly.

"Fuck, baby. I'm so sorry. I don't know what came over me." He says quietly, voice cracking halfway through the sentence. He feels sick when he sees your blood coating his length and has to swallow down the bile that rises in his throat. Doesn't make him stop, though. What the fuck is wrong with him?

"I didn't mean it. I swear. I just love you so, so much. I have nobody. Can't lose you, too." He breathes out, dropping his head against your shoulder as he ruts shallowly into you. “My pretty baby. Such a good girl. Don't wanna hurt you… hate seein’ you cry.”

You don't know how you end up comforting him, promising him it's okay even as your whole body aches and your insides burn with every thrust. It hurts to see him hurting. You'd rather take a beating than see him this broken. All it takes for him to cum is for you to say you love him, too.

He pulls out carefully, pressing kisses down your neck. You don't move. Don't speak. You couldn't, even if you wanted to. You're limp in his arms as he picks you up, cradling you carefully against his chest.

He runs you a bath, gently placing you into the hot, soapy water. He peppers kisses all over your face as the water washes away the blood and cum, soothing your aching muscles.

He keeps saying he's sorry, his eyes filled with remorse. He promises he won't do it again, but you know he will. As soon as you step a toe out of line, he'll snap again. You know you should leave. You'd be dead if he kept this up. But seeing that pain on his face, the way he trembles as he washes your hair tenderly…

You'd stay one more day. Just one more day…

[normansnt]

Even

(Hazbin Rozie x soft!male reader.)

No warnings (not proof read)

You tried to tiptoe as quietly as possible through your and your wives house. You didn't know that the trail of blood you were leaving would give you away in the morning anyways.

"You're home late" you heard the lovely voice of your dear wife while she sat on the sofa and turned on the light on the small table besides it.

You exhaled through your nose.

"Yeaahhh..." was all you could get out of

When Rosie took in your form more carefully she saw the beaten state you were in.

"Oh dear, what happened to you" she sounded more sympathetic now and rushed to your side to help you sit down

"Hahh, you should see the other guy...he got out without a scratch it was honestly pretty impressive" you said with honest astonishment.

You have been getting into fights at bars lately...a lot. Why? Well the answer was rather easy really, your wife was the Rosie. A powerful overlord in hell and leader of cannibal town. She was powerful, strong, cunning, smart and most of all feared because of those qualities.

And you...well, you weren't weak not by any means but you were just...soft, to put it lightly. While other boys fought you enjoyed chasing a butterfly. You were a very kind soul and opted to see the good in people. You were a fallen angel, after all.

When you met Rosie you were the same dork you are now, you just liked to draw and she is very beautiful so you asked if you could draw her. Thats how you two met 10 years ago.

As time passed by, you fell in love with her, however you would have never guessed that a powerful woman like herself would fall for someone like you. Alas she did and after some time being together you got married.

Since Rosie was quite the public figure, people, of course, knew about your engagement and they had their own opinions, mostly bad ones.

The people of cannibal town thought Rosie deserved someone tough, not to protect her she can do that to, but to match her, to be her equal.

And you thought so too. It was a true wonder why she was still with you, really.

"(Y/N)"

The powerful voice of your beloved got you out of your thoughts.

"*sigh* are you thinking about what others are saying again?" She questioned looking at you sadly.

You looked away ashamed.

"My love" she slowly put her hand on your cheek and made you look at her.

"I have told you countless times but I wont stop until you get it into your head. I.Love.You their opinions do not matter, especially when they dont know you like I do, for if they did they would know that you have the strongest heart I have ever witnessed, you might not like fights and blood spill but I know for a fact that when its really needed you will step up, and thats what really matters." She smiled at you kindly.

"Also, I like violence plenty so we make the perfect pair" she grinned at you manically.

You really didn't know how you got so lucky as to have such an amazing wife. You let out a chuckle and kissed her.

"Thank you" you smiled lightly

"Of course dear, now go wash up and lets go to bed I'm tired" she said exhausted while she stood up and walked to your shared bedroom.

You smiled to yourself, sure you weren't a big fan of violence but you hat a cannibal as a wife, you guys kinda evened each other out.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Yall I know I said Id proof read tham and than post but I LOVE this one so much its short but so good😭

ALSO, ROSIE IS NOT TALKED ABOUT ENOUGH LIKE I LOVE HER SM ROSIE PLS MARRY ME😖

ANYWAYS

I hope you enjoyed your reading ladies, gentleman and others, good afternoon good evening and good night🧡🦖

[cbrownjc]

On its surface, this photo doesn't make much sense

So what are we seeing here in this photo? Well, on its surface, it appears to be Armand, Daniel, and Louis. And Armand and, what appears to be a rather injured, maybe burnt, Louis carrying an unconscious Daniel upright down the steps of the Divisadero Street townhouse.

However, if you think about it, it makes no sense why Armand and Louis would do something like this. Because even if Louis is hurt . . . he and Armand are both still vampires. Meaning they not only have super strength, they have very quick speed as well.

And, as we saw in episode 2x04 during the museum date scene -- which takes place 28 or so years before the 1973 interview -- Armand already has the Cloud Gift. He can fly.

If Armand, or Louis, or both of them wanted to get Daniel out of the house, they in no way needed to do it like this.

Plus, Daniel already knows they are vampires. Hiding their abilities from him is moot at this point. On top of that, he's unconscious. A state I'm pretty sure he could be made to stay in if Armand wanted him to. Again, we just saw Armand do so to not only his own coven members during the dinner scene, but to two human guards at the museum he and Louis visited. Leaving Daniel unconscious for however long he needed to be to be taken out of there would, again, be no problem.

The only reason Armand and Louis would even do something like this is if they wanted to be seen doing this.

Yes, IMO, this situation is being purposefully staged by them for some reason.

Did they want the Talamasca to see them doing this? Maybe. But the Talamasca already know that they are vampires, and wouldn't buy it. (And I think Armand would very well know that the Talamasca know they are vampires). But, at the moment, staging it for the Talamasca is the most likely out of anything.

However, are they doing it so as to try and not draw attention/cover themselves in suspicion because Daniel has been reported missing? And they are just going to drop him off at home, memory wiped? Well, IMO no, doing something like this would just draw more attention to them, IMO, given that Daniel wouldn't remember anything about what happened anyway. It would be much easier to just have Armand fly unconscious Daniel home, and memory-wiped but still alive. Daniel then wakes up later being none the wiser and no one really pointing or looking at Louis or Armand about anything, because even Daniel doesn't remember anything about them.

And then, of course, we have that body wrapped in plastic that I, at first, fully mistakenly thought was Daniel, until the guy's mustache was pointed out to me.

And maybe, just maybe, that is the point. Because, at a distance, what might that man look like if you shaved off his mustache, throw a hat on his head, and make sure his eyes remained closed, which would be easy to do if he's dead, and . . .

I'm not entirely convinced that the person that Armand and Louis are carrying from the house is Daniel. And I haven't been since I first saw that photo when I first watched the episode. I very much think that is the man who was wrapped in plastic, and made up to look like Daniel, even given Daniel's clothes and side bag.

IMO, Armand went out and purposefully found a man with a similar height, build, and hair color to Daniel's. And now, they are going to use that man's corpse to make it appear -- to somebody -- that they let Daniel go that the next night or sometime late. Or, if not Daniel, then the person who came back with Louis that night was that man, and they just ended up feeding on him and he just died later after they got him out of the house or whatever.

Again, why Armand and Louis are doing this, I don't know. But that whole situation of carrying Daniel out of the house is being staged by them for some reason. Because getting Daniel out of there -- undetected -- would be really easy for even just Armand to do alone, never mind both of them together. But they want to be seen doing this, for some unknown reason.

[kassiekole22]

Joy Ride

𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐

𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐

Pairing: Brian O'Conner X Fem!Reader

Description: Brian finds you walking home late one night and offers you a ride, which turns into a night-long joy ride around Miami.

Warnings: Fluff, Speeding, Friends Or Future Lovers? (You Decide)

Word Count: 2.2k

A/N: Sooooo, I watched 2 Fast 2 Furious for the first time a around a month ago and this guy has been on my mind ever since. I have always really loved Paul Walker so this was bound to happen eventually. 😂 I don't know if I plan to write more for him or if this will just be a one time thing, but I have been working on this fic for quite some time now and I'm happy to finally be posting it. More to come from other beloved characters soon! Enjoy the fic and if you want more Brian O'Conner fics in the future, let me know in the comments or inbox! 🖤 (Also did any of you get the reference in the name? 👀)

Main MasterList: 🖤

Kassie's Angels: @mornandil, @lorebite.

(If you want to be added to the taglist, let me know in the comments! 🖤)

𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐

2002

The air is pretty cool for a night in Miami, but I don't mind. I walk with my hands in the pockets of my hoodie, protecting them from the slight chill. It's nothing too intense, but I haven't been used to being in cooler temperatures for awhile now.

I walk quickly down the sidewalk as a few cars pass from time to time. The sounds of their engines make my fingers and feet tingle a little, my body missing the feeling of the steering wheel gripped in my fingers and the gas pedal under my foot.

I wrecked pretty badly during my last race, resulting in my car becoming too banged up to drive. Most street racers have other cars to fall back on. Unfortunately for me, my girl was all I had. Now I'm left to walk on foot until I can get enough money to fix her.

The ambiance in the street is pretty calm until I hear the familiar rumble of a very specific engine approaching my side. To my surprise, that iconic silver and blue Nissan Skyline pulls up, slowing down to drive at my walking speed. But the slick paint job or glowing underbody isn't what makes it difficult to look away. The driver is none other than the man who beat me in my last race, Brian O'Conner.

I'm met with a kind smile as he rolls down his windows, his bright blue eyes glancing up at me from the shadows of the interior. There is just something about that man that draws me in. I could never tell what exactly it was, but it pulled me in his direction like a bee to a flower every time I was in the same location as him.

"Ey, need a ride?" He queries in a rasied voice, nearly shouting over the Skyline's growl.

Though it's tempting, I don't want to throw a wrench in any plans he may have. Knowing him, he has another street race or date to get to at this hour. So, despite the aching pain in my feet that is screaming in protest, I respond casually, "Nah, man. I'm good. Home's not too far away anyway, y'know?"

Even though it wouldn't take him too long, it would be pretty pointless to drive only a couple blocks anyway. He takes a mere second to let my words sink in and find an answer, his eyes hopeful as they are taken off the road and landing on me once more.

"We don't gotta take you home. The night's still—" He checks his watch, and his eyes widen slightly as he realizes the time. "—Well, middle-aged, but that don't gotta stop the fun."

I can't contain a faint chuckle at his dumb joke, rolling my eyes as I do so. The next thing I know, my feet are subconsciously coming to a stop, and he gently lays on the brakes. His car is also stopping right beside where I now stand, but the engine still purrs softly to alert all of its consciousness.

"Ah, c'mon, girl. Let's live a little, eh?" He flashes me that dangerous half-smirk that beckons me forward into mischief. It now dawns on me that he might not have the intention of taking me home, which is intriguing in a way.

I contemplate my options for a moment. The only thing waiting for me at home is a couple bottles of beer and some cold pizza left in the fridge from the night prior. It seems like I've been spending most of my time alone lately. Maybe it would be good to spend some time in good company.

"Alright," I give in with a subtle but still noticeable sigh, backing down in my mental debate.

He reaches across and opens the passenger door for me as I round the car, its headlights illuminating me for a brief moment as I cross in front of the bumper before hoping into the seat offered to me. It felt weird being in the left seat and not having a steering wheel before me. I could never get used to those foreign imported cars. 

But regardless, it sure is a beauty. The leather interior smells oddly fresh and calming, with a faint hint of exhaust filtering through the open windows. It's clear he just cleaned her up. Brian was always the type to take care of his rides.

I pull the seatbelt across my chest and lock it in securely, mentally preparing myself for the wild ride I know damn well he is about to take me on. He looks at me and flashes me that cocky yet proud smile as he revvs the engine for only a moment before taking off into the night.

With windows down and speed carrying us, I feel like I'm floating on air. The soft breeze I felt only moments ago is now a fast wind in my hair, and the soft ambiance of the nightlife in Miami is now disturbed by a machine growl.

I glance over at him, and it's as if time slows for just a minute as I take in how happy he is. He's a simple man. He doesn't need the fancy things in life, just a fast car to make the corners of his lips part into that iconic grin I have grown to love.

"Wanna get fuckin' nuts?" He asks me, his voice taking me out of my thoughts and putting me back into reality. That's when I notice that mischievous look in his ocean blue eyes, their pupils blown wide with adrenaline.

Hm... Blue and full of adrenaline, like the blood pumping in our veins.

"What?" I blurt out, not fully comprehending what he is asking, until my gaze wanders down to where his thumbs hovers over the nitro buttons.

I look at the road ahead, seeing that it is completely barren of all life, and I can't help but smirk at the thought of what he is suggesting. It's a dangerous game—playing with speed in such a way—but a thrilling one, for sure.

Taking my eyes off the road ahead to look back at him, I notice the hopeful glint once again in his eyes, only pushing my thought process toward wanting to comply. So without a second breath, I cheer, "Fuck yeah!"

With a simple click of two buttons at once, we are off like a rocket in space. Suddenly, the street lights look like comets, and the lines on the road are just blurs of colors. It's oddly beautiful in a way, and I marvel at how it ignites my soul with such a unique feeling, which I can't possibly seek from anything else. My fingers dig into the sides of my seat as my heart pounds against my ribcage like thunder, both overwhelmed but thirsty for more of this intoxicating rush.

Though Brian only lets this last for a moment, just seconds passed that will remain with me for an eternity. We laugh as the car slows to a semi-normal speed again. My smile is so wide, I can feel my face begin to hurt.

But I don't care. I am just so high on the thrill that my mind is lost in a cloudy space of euphoria. It's crazy how the night went from a quiet walk home to taking a joy ride with one of my rivals, but I wouldn't have it any other way.

Once our laughter dies down, the soft purr of the engine is the only thing heard yet again as we both seemingly get lost in our own thoughts. What is he thinking? I wish I knew. The only thing on my mind is how happy I am. It isn't until a couple minutes later that he speaks his mind, taking a deep breath before his lips finally form the words he has been pondering.

"We should do this more often," he suggests in that nonchalant tone he carries quite regularly for someone with such excitement in his life. "Y'know, hang out outside the racing world? You're a cool girl."

I can't repress how my smile softens for a moment at his words as my eyes flick over in his direction while a million responses filter through my mind. This guy is a legend—a local celebrity, if you will. To have this opportunity is an honor. However, I don't necessarily get the vibe of entitlement from him. Instead, his atmosphere reflects something else—something friendly and inviting.

"And you're a cool guy. I'd love to hang with you more often." I reply, trying to sound chill but coming off way more sincere than intended. Though he doesn't seem to mind, in fact, he seems to be pleased with my response.

The next thing I know, he is pulling into a public beach. Its sands are abandoned by any human life due to the lateness of time, though the footprints of the visitors that day still remain like ghosts of the past, their memories carved in the sand until they get washed away by the waves.

He locks the car in park, unhooks his seatbelt, and gets out. I watch through the windshield as he rounds the side of it to rest back on the hood. My eyes study him as he lifts himself to sit on the hood, not once looking back to see if I leave the car as well. It's almost as if he expects me to.

So to fulfill his silent expectations, I swing my door open and hop out after freeing myself from my seatbelt, nearly stumbling as the ground is unexpectedly unsteady where I stand. My feet sink into the sand, and I'm grateful I chose to wear boots tonight over anything else.

Once out of my sticky situation, I take a moment to appreciate the freshness in the air—the sweet smell of the ocean before me for just a second. After approaching him, I rest beside him on the hood, watching the waves crash before us. It reminds me that life is quite like the sea. It's unpredictable, a little scary at times, but beautiful in many unique ways. I release a soft breath, my body relaxing in this calming moment.

"I remember the first time I saw you pull up in that black Trans Am to the race. Fuckin' engine and bass on your stereo roaring over the sound of the crowd." He chuckles while he reminisces about old memories.

"Buni," I correct him as I smile fondly, thinking about the beauty that's currently under a tarp in my garage, just waiting to be repaired and set free on the road once again.

"Yeah, Buni." He parrots me in an almost teasing way. I know he finds the fact that I named my car ridiculous, but I can see it in his eyes that it amuses him all the same. "You're something else, (L/N). A damn good racer, though."

My heart flutters at the compliment, and I feel my cheeks heat up with this familiar warmth that only he ignites in me best. The soft breeze blows through my hair as I think of a reply, running through my strains like an angel's fingertips. But it's not the breeze nor the location that has me in such a calm and joyful state.

I continue to study him—the way his blonde curls blow in the breeze, the corners of his lips turning up ever so slightly to show his contentment, his biceps flexing ever so slightly as he crosses his arms over his chest. It amazes me how all the different shades of blue in his iris reflect the scene before us. It's like I could literally drown in them each time I gaze into them to admire their beauty.

"Yeah? You and your Skyline ain't so bad either." I finally quip with a small bit of sarcasm dripping from my tone after forcing myself out of where my mind has disappeared to for a short time. He smiles softly at my words, because it's evident how I really feel about him. He knows, and I know that, but I don't really care anymore.

We talk until sunrise and watch as the black sky fades into orange and pink, blending with the stars to make them barely visible. Though they are out of sight, I know they still shine brightly above us, like angels waiting for us in heaven. It's quite special—maybe even magical.

The sea reflects the morning sun as it rises from the horizon, its golden rays shining upon us as we remain on the hood of the car. It's just us out here in our own little world. If I learned anything from last night, it's not the place that makes a moment special, but the person you share it with.

I don't know where this road will take us. I know it will be a long one—with plenty of traffic and bumps ahead—but the ride will be an enjoyable one with a new friend in the seat next to me as we speed through it all. And if we happen to get separated some point along the way, I know in my heart that I'll see him again.

𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐

[joi-me-hoi-me-noi]

Getting Kidnapped - BNHA/MHA

Features: Tomura Shigaraki, Shouta Aizawa and Kai Chisaki

A/n: I thought of this while I was taking a nap LMAO, let's get started and be sure to check out the rest of my writings...(there's only like 3 or 4 at this point :sob:)... it's very short but whatever, I enjoy being funny and writing this so yeah baby :))))

TOMURA SHIGARAKI -

You really didn't know how you got there. You were shocked but not that shocked, it was bound to happen eventually.

"Damn it's dark as a motherfucker in here. I just know they can't pay the light bill." Then the lights turn on to reveal the LOV.

"Oh...I guess you do pay the light bill. Hello." You go to wave but your hands are tied against the back of the chair.

"Greetings, L/n Y/n. Do you know why you're here?" "Nope." He pauses and just stares at you.

"You know some information that we don't, I'm going to need you to talk doll. Or else we'll torture you."

"You calling me pet names is already enough torture for me, crusty." You hear someone stifle a laugh from behind you.

"Glad to hear that someone enjoys my humor. Anyways, you got some water or something." Then your chair starts to get dragged into another room.

"That's right Dabi, take them into your room. Interrogate them." The door closes behind the two of you.

Time to work your own personal magic.

A couple of hours later, Shigaraki opens the door to Dabi's room, somber music plays in the background while you sit on the floor, untied, having a conversation with the burned man.

"Dabi! What are you doing?!" Tomura rips the hand off of his face and holds it tightly in his hands.

"Talking." He lays back on his bed, his head falling off the side of the bed.

"Why did you untie them?" He points at you and all you do is wave back with a big smile.

"They said the restraints were hurting them so I just untied them." Tomura shuts the door and lets out a scream of annoyance.

You laugh and whisper to Dabi. "Somebody's got their panties in a twist, don't they?"

SHOUTA AIZAWA -

As soon as you reached for an item inside of a random home, something tied tightly around your wrist.

"What the?" One sharp tug later and you're wrapped up tight, hanging upside-down from the ceiling. "Fuck..." You draw out the word in annoyance

You go to use your quirk and it doesn't work, nothing happens. Then a man with long black hair and tired eyes steps into the brightness of the moonlight from the darkness.

"Couldn't you do this another night or something?" He rubs his eyes and stares at you.

He walks around your bounded form as you try to spin yourself to look at the powerful homeowner.

"I mean I could, if you let me go that is." You flash a smile at him as he raises his brows.

"Afraid I can't do that. You'll be coming with me to the police station...in the morning. It's too late to be doing that now." Your eyes widened.

A handsome stranger taking you to jail...in the morning. IS HE STUPID?

"What if I find a way to escape from the restraints? What then?"

He tilts his head, a small grin finding its way onto his features. "You won't. You can't break this material."

He ties the end of the fabric to a hook and walks into a different room.

"Wait what about the blood rushing to my head!"

He comes back in and with a single pull of the fabric, you're tilted sideways like sleeping on a bed.

When the morning comes, a little girl is looking at you very confused. "Who are you?"

"Your Dad's friend, I was playing around with his scarf and got stuck. Could you help me?"

The little girl, without a second thought, unties the fabric from your body. You find a pen and a piece of paper to write down your number on to then, hand it to the girl.

"Give him this when he wakes up and no peeking."

You open the balcony door and wave goodbye to the girl before jumping off the glass railing. You shoot upward and rest on the roof, holding your phone in your hand, waiting eagerly for his response.

---inside the home---

"Mr. Aizawa." She pokes his side a bit hard which wakes him up.

"What's wrong Eri?"

She hands him a folded piece of paper.

"Your friend told me to give you this. They just left a bit ago."

His eyes widened as he shot up from his spot in bed, rushing into the living area. He opened the note and smirked, shaking his head.

The note read: 'that cute little girl let me out, told you I could leave...call me! xxx-xxx-xxxx XOXO'

KAI CHISAKI -

"Wow...this is a beautiful place you got here? Why am I tied up?"

He rolls his amber eyes and lays the chair against the couch behind you. He almost straddles your waist but he just stands there, looking down at you.

"You're filthy, I plan on fixing you."

You look at him with confusion. "I literally showered as soon as I got home from my job, what do you mean weirdo?"

He hated that nickname, his fingertips played with the bottom of his gloves. The glove comes off and he reaches forward to touch you, nothing happens

...his hands are really warm and soft.

"You must not do a lot of hard work since your hands are soft... you either moisturize or you're just lazy and have servants."

He's in shock but then scoffs at your comments.

"I'm a doctor but I can't cure you. You're still filthy."

You just shrug and smile up at him happily. "Okay, whatever you say plague guy. You'd probably die if you had a sip of McDonald's Sprite."

...what?

[amalthiaph]

I took an interest in The Bad Batch around the tailend of S2. It's not news to Tumblr that I almost slept on this show. And I cannot thank Caleb Dume enough for being the reason why I pressed the play button for this one. While I haven't been around for most of its active run, and I wish I had been, the last year has been among the best months of my life.

This show challenged my morals, and taught me lessons that I will forever take with me.

Tech taught me to embrace and take pride in who I am. I now think that I am not something that needs to be cured. I needed to be understood and accepted. He taught me that we deserved to be loved and be allowed to live the way we want to (as long as we are not causing harm to ourselves or to others).

Hunter taught me that at the end of the day, we're all still humans. We make mistakes. We fail. But we can learn from them, and we can strive to be better. And I should also take care of my hair bec I cannot accept that a man in a galactic war have better hair than me (Okay, did you honestly think I'm gonna be serious this entire essay?)

Crosshair taught me that at the end of the day, we really are still humans. Sometimes, we make choices that not everyone will understand or agree to. Sometimes, we don't even understand our own choices. But we can learn from them, and we can strive to be better. And that I should also go to therapy bec istg my hand shakes like hell I always need to rely on a pen stabilizer when doing my artworks.

Wrecker taught me that in this world where we can be anything, always choose to be kind. He is a great man who would always be there for everyone, and I hope that one day, I can be that person too. He is afraid of heights, but he climbs and go on high places anyway. Like him, I should also start conquering my fears. Dear Wrecker, I did try conquering my fear of heights last March 9 but I can't. I will try again.

Echo taught me to always fight for the greater good. Almost two years ago, me and a group of people campaigned for a great tomorrow. With pink flags and pink balloons, we worked on our little thing I like to call our rebellion. Sadly, we lost. At times, I am thinking of just giving up bec that's democracy and I cannot go against the people's decision, but characters like Echo and the rest of Rogue One taught me that nothing should ever stop me for fighting for the people's rights and that my love for my fellow citizens should always come first before hatred.

And lastly, Omega taught me to be curious, or more likely to not be ashamed for being curious. Learn about the world. Learn about lots of things. We never know when we need it. While I could say be good at strategy and win 30 grand on card games, nahhh, I'm not that smart.

I also learned to reevalutate myself as an artist. This show taught me integrity. I had ranted about this lately but these characters challenged me in terms of art. I knew that the creators aren't best at proper representation. While I could draw them as they are in the show, I choose to stand for what is right, and represent them as properly as my skills could. In the more technical side, I became good at drawing armors. And this little Actors AU Draw Series taught me to be responsible; I tried my very best to create and post them on time. This increased my productivity.

But enough about me.

There's something I realized two nights ago; we, the fandom, are Bad Batchers ourselves. We can consider ourselves a family, but not one of us is the same and we're all interesting, and capable in our own unique ways. We can have our own opinion and stand about something and still coexist. Like our favorite charactera, we embrace and celebrate our differences.

This show may end. No more Bad Batch Eves, no more cryptic tweets that cause us to hyperventilate, no more Bad Batch Wednesdays but it will live on, through us.

I know there will be a day where we decrease in number, one by one, little by little, but still, the show will live on through our actions, our opinions, our choices we make after May 1, 2024 because I know that all of us were changed in some ways by these characters and this show.

To the crew, your cryptic tweets caused me sleepless nights, but thank you so, so much. It is through your hardwork that we had this wonderful show. Thank you for making every second of the past year so worthwhile and enjoyable for me and for everyone.

However this show will end, whether happy or sad, I am glad it happened. However short my time was with them, I am happy I had been here. However short my time with everyone in the fandom was or if some of you leave one day, still, thank you so much for being part of my life; I am so happy I met all of you.

To Clone Force 99, thank you. I've never loved anything like this before. May the Force be with you.

[ohsohoney]

When it comes to love you're just as blinded.

Part Thirteen

Eminem x Musician

Summary: It starts with a drunk embarrassing video, it spirals into something a whole lot more.

Note: Thirteen!! I'm actually so excited to post this one. There's some angst, but like it's not all bad, this is actually probably one of my favourite updates to date. But this is just a forewarning! Lots of swearing too, to be expected really so.. Anyway, hope you enjoy it, have a feeling there's gonna be a lot of emotions over this one!

Thank you again for all the love this series has gotten, means so much and really does keep me writing:)

| Set in 2014, just after the release of LP 2

taglist: @thelastemzy @helloitsme1223

Masterlist

It was strained. 

The entire house, its whole atmosphere. It was just incredibly heavy and strange.

It wasn’t hard to miss either, judging from the careful way Rosie had been watching the two of us since she’d first woken up this morning. 

But last night hadn’t fared any better. Em had been weirdly distant; not meeting my eye, dancing around subjects, hardly speaking at all in actuality, and then he went as far as to avoid my touch— even as I’d handed him a fucking fork. 

It was such a harsh reality check for me in truth, because suddenly, I felt like an intruder. 

“El?” Rosie’s voice rang out, drawing me from my inner musings as well as the slice of toast I’d practically been burning a hole into. 

“Hm?” I replied belatedly, dragging my eyes up and away from my plate to cast her a distant look, but Z was just wearing this perplexed sort of frown that had me blinking away any remaining haze as she dropped her spoon into her bowl of cereal. The splash sent a few drops of milk flying over the countertop.

“Called you like four times.” She sighed, that frown of hers still prominent enough for me to throw a small smile back in apology.

“Sorry, just– must be half asleep still.” I attempted to shake off the solemn feeling I’d been cast in, laughing faintly before I finally took a bite out of my own breakfast, hating the way the bread tasted like ash in my mouth.

She didn’t seem to take the bait though, not if the scrunch of her brow was any indication, or her next words, “Are you sure? ‘Cause last night–”

I didn’t know whether or not to be grateful for Marshall’s sudden appearance in that next moment because the girl swiftly cut herself off in favour of hurriedly spooning another load of cereal into her mouth.

Marshall whipped around the island without so much as a glance in my direction, opening up the fridge before he turned towards the coffee pot he had laid out but hadn’t used since my first day here. The kettle and the half-made mug of tea I’d set out for him either going unseen or just ignored. I was betting on the latter.

I opened my mouth to say something, if only to break the debilitating silence, when the man himself unknowingly cut me off. “You almost ready?” He questioned Z, who was still slurping up the remnants of her bowl. 

The girl’s eyes darted towards him from over the porcelain brim of it before she dropped her arms to cast him a buoyant grin lined with, what could have only been, a milk moustache. I couldn’t help the fondness my smile gave way to, or how I reached out to wipe her upper lip with a nearby napkin. 

Her expression softened at either the gesture or my laughter, I wasn't quite sure, but her bright eyes glanced back over to her Dad just as I withdrew my hand.

“Nearly, just my shoes.” Rosie told him easily enough, kicking her legs out beneath the table to better show him her shoeless feet. I saw Marshall roll his eyes out of the corner of my own eye and deigned to take a long sip of my brew if only to keep from flashing him the shared smile that threatened to break through. I didn’t think it would fair well right now, me trying to buddy up to him over his daughter's shameless antics. 

“We got fifteen minutes ‘fore you’re late.” He replied to her as he all but drained his mug dry, the heady smell of coffee grinds polluted the kitchen's air. I bit the inside of my cheek when the familiar warning of scalding his mouth crawled its way out across my tongue, but I didn’t dare speak a word.

Rosie bobbed her head in a quick understanding, already jumping down from the barstool to run and grab the last of her things before she could set off for school, forgetting the dirtied bowl she had left on the counter.

I didn’t think much of my next movement, in truth, mostly looking for a reason to ignore the heavy cloud which had since settled over the shared space, as I picked up both the bowl, my plate too, to carry them both over to the bin and sink. 

A sound had me glancing back over my shoulder instinctively once I’d turned on the taps though, surprised to find Marshall already looking in my direction, or rather the sinks, I supposed.

But maybe I was wrong about that, because my surprise jumped straight up to shock when I heard him speak, to me. “How many times I tell you, you ain’t gotta do that?” It didn’t sound much like the question it was meant to be, more of a grunt than anything else as his hard stare flickered up to meet mine.

It was instinct for me to frown, but as my forehead went to furrow I was quick to smooth it back out again and turn my back on him, knowing this conversation would be much easier if I made quick work of the dishes in the sink. “I don’t mind.” I muttered back, hands already covered in soap duds.

He didn’t deign to respond, just let the sound of the water fill the lengthy space that had been created between us so suddenly. My heart ached a little over it, in truth, as I wondered what I’d done so wrong to have fucked up the easy thing we had going on here. 

Because look, it wasn’t as though I was new to quick snipes or heated conversations, or whatever the fuck this was. But it unsettled me enough to know that it was him that I was on the outs with. Marshall, he’d practically taken me in, done more than just house and feed me, but now he was just over it? Done with all the niceties because of an almost– what, kiss? If it had even been that at all. 

But I didn’t, scratch that, I couldn’t linger on the thought because if I did, then I would be sure to start fucking throwing back words a lot more scathing than just ‘I don’t mind’.

I was broken from the way I was furiously scrubbing away at my plate with the scour when my personal space was suddenly invaded. I all but jumped out of my skin as my head shot over to the left to find Marshall now stood there, leaning over me in the tight corner which sat between the two adjoining counters, just so that he could drop his cup into the soapy basin. 

His eyes met mine the second I looked up at him, mouth somewhat agape enough to have those icy blues of his dropping down to catch a quick look before they settled back on my own again. I went to swallow, confused and caught entirely off guard by the intrusion, but found I couldn’t. Which was good, in reality, seeing as I didn’t dare want to let onto the fact that he’d garnered anything more than surprise out of me.

“Seein’ as you don’t mind then.” 

Marshall’s comment perplexed me further, before I caught wind of what he was really getting at with it. So it was in that next moment that I allowed my eyes to narrow, even as he brushed back against me slowly, almost languid in his retreat. 

I huffed out a tiny, grim laugh, more air than anything, when I shoved the dish I’d been cleaning into his chest, flicking soap and water all over him. But it was missed only slightly by his moving form, catching his bicep instead and allowing a trail of water to drip down his bare forearm. “You won’t mind dryin’ then.” I shot back scathingly, clenching my teeth.

As much as my own action had surprised me, the drawl of my accent heightening in my anger gave way to the actual shock which lined beneath it, forcing me to turn back to the sink before Marshall could realise or actually comment on it. 

I didn’t know what it was about what had transpired that kept him from jumping down my throat, but he kept quiet even as it took him a good second or two to grab the towel hanging by the draining rack and wipe at the sodden plate. 

It was tense after that. Not a word was spoken, and so a shaky exhale left me the moment Rosie reentered the room, her shoes clicking against the kitchen tiles as she slung her school bag over a single shoulder. 

If Marshall heard the reaction, he gave no indication, but was quick in the way he jumped back from the counter to meet her. “Let’s go.” He all but demanded after he’d chucked the towel down onto the side so that he could round the island. 

I didn’t have to look back to hear the confusion Rosie obviously felt, “Is El not coming?”

Opening my mouth to answer her, my chest pinched when Marshall did so for me instead, “Not today. Come on, you gone be late.”

It was with that which he withdrew from the room with, leaving me blinking and Rosie gaping at his retreating figure. I wondered then where the hell it had all gone wrong. 

When Rosie casted her eyes back to me, my hands were still hovering over the sink but I witnessed the way her usual smile had transformed into something more solemn, or perhaps just ruminative. 

Being the adult, as well as the ‘bigger fucking person!’ I wanted to scream at his back. I forced my expression into something a whole lot sweeter than just the bewilderment that had plastered it a second before. I let go of a large breath and reached for the tea towel. 

“I just got a new idea for a song, figured I’d write it down before I lost it, you know?” I attempted to reassure, brushing off how odd the entire situation must have seemed to her.

Because why was I covering for a forty-something year old man and his pissy demeanour? Well, one simple reason could be that it wasn’t Rosie’s fault that her Dad was being a massive prick at the moment, and that I for one wasn’t going to be shucking her with the bubbling irritation I felt for him. Something which I’d picked up from living in a house a whole lot worse than this, where you didn’t know whether a reply would earn you an outright laugh or something to tell your future therapist about.

Z was nothing if not perceptive though and so when she just hummed I was quickly taken back to my own childhood, to when some of my mum’s less shittier boyfriends had attempted to lie their way out of what was obviously happening between the two of them. My skin itched at the thought.

“You gonna be here when I get home?” She asked me before I could say anything at all, which broke my fucking heart, because Rosie was so quick to add to her question, if only to make it seem as though it had been something other that it was, “You know, ‘cause Dad’s talking to the school about what happened yesterday… So I just figured you might wanna hear about it when I got back.”

“Of course I do, Z.” I promised in one hasty reply, already moving to dry my hands before I could even really think about it. “Of course.” I repeated as I made my way over to her, smiling warmly when she met me halfway. “It’ll all be just fine, you hear me?” I murmured to her the second I let myself get swept up in one of her gentle hugs, “Your Dad will sort it all and I’ll be here waiting to hear about it the second you get home, okay?”

She was quiet for a long moment before she just whispered, “Swear it?”

My eyes shuttered closed and I buried a sad smile in the top of her head, already reaching out to lock my pinky with hers. “On my life.” I swore quietly, forcing myself to match the wry grin she wore when she pulled away to peer down at our interlocked fingers. Rosie giggled lightly, choosing to swing our arms back and forth.

I shook my hand in return, wobbling the pair of our limbs ever so slightly, before a slight cough gained our attention. I looked up whilst Z spun around on her heel to find Marshall stood waiting just outside of the doorway, a hazy shadow crossing over the bridge of his nose as he toyed with the set of keys he had in his hand. 

His voice was all too soft when he spoke, eyes zeroed in on his daughter, “Time to go, bean.”

It took everything in me then to look away from him and over to the clock stationed on the far wall, letting Rosie’s hand slip from mine after I gave it a small squeeze. “He’s right.” I sighed lightly, “I’ll see you later, ‘kay?”

She was already peering back up at me when I looked over and so I wasn’t too startled by the sudden embrace she wrapped me up in before she hastily made her way towards the front door. 

The quiet which settled in after her wake forced my gaze to return to the man who had yet to follow, his eyes faltering between my own before he dipped his chin in a barely there nod, a gesture which spoke volumes as he turned to leave.

–

Messages  Lottiebug 🐞 In school!! Sorryyyyy didn’t mean to ignore u Was out late and passed out At lunch now, promise to call later xxxxx Love u don’t miss me too much:))

I actually wanted to wring the kid’s neck. She was such a stress inducer that I was sure to head back home to her covered in hives come this point. I mean, where did she get off on making me worry like that? Especially after all that had gone down, all that she had kept from me. And with Rosie last night too, her entire situation having flooded my mind with memories of the past.

Messages  To: Lottiebug 🐞 You’re the actual antichrist I swear Where the hell have you been Lotts?? I’ve been worried sick just waiting for a text or a call, did your phone just die? Or did your charger break again? I swear I’m flying home if you don’t call me the second you step out of those school gates

Or you know, maybe sooner if things with Marshall carried on.

I sighed at the burst of adrenaline which had rushed and drained from me in a too short moment, before I tossed my phone down onto the couch I’d taken to sprawling on, a plethora of notes and pages dotted all around me. 

I figured it was at least one less thing to worry about now though, even if everything going on with Lottie was still a rather large issue at hand. I wanted to scream about it all actually. But currently, my biggest problem was this song. And maybe the man who was set to return in the time between now and the moment Rosie got out of school. 

Because see, I had a small hunch that Marshall was probably going to avoid me for as long as he possibly could, which would end up being the very second his daughter danced back through that door.

The thought had me groaning again, unhappy with how everything was turning out, as well as the lyrics that I just couldn’t get to sound quite right. See, I hadn’t been outright lying to Z when I’d claimed that I had an idea for a new song. Being unable to sleep truly worked wonders on the psyche and could send your imaginative thoughts into a whole other realm.

But still, I was struggling to get it all to fall into place, the verse sounding much more like a bridge and the chorus still lacking something. Even so, it was promising. That much I could tell. Only thing was, I was stuck on whether or not it was going to end up on Marshall’s scrapheap or my next album. 

It was what I was here for, wasn’t it? To write, to collaborate. Even after we’d gotten a little bit side tracked the last few days. But I just didn’t know how much he wanted from me, we hadn’t really spoken about it or hashed over all the gritty details. And yet, even after last night and this morning, I was still here trying to pull something together for him to come back and hear. Even if I was sure that he’d can it the second he did.

“You look like someone just shit on your chest.”

I startled at the voice, flailing a tad to get a better look at the figure which now loomed behind the sofa, but it seemed as though the scare had been enough to send all my hard work flying. 

Three things happened in the next moment: I gaped, frowned, and then ultimately topped it all off with a rather hefty huff, turning back to grab at the pages I’d just been scrawling on with my tongue tucked between my teeth.

“Shat on my chest?” I answered back in the same dull monotone he’d just used, face screwing up slightly as I stretched to collect the last page that had slipped its way further down the sofa. “You know that expression intimately, or just guessing?”

A breathy snort sounded just as the page I’d been reaching for was snatched up before me. My gaze snapped upwards in narrowed slits to scowl at him, unimpressed by the action, before I held out a hand towards him, silently asking for it back.

Marshall took no note. Instead his eyes flitted over the red ink I’d been working on, reading it at a mile a minute. He handed it back without another word said and then rounded the sofa to fall into the seat beside me. 

He had picked up a couple drinks whilst he’d been out, it seemed. Just a couple of coffee’s from what I could first tell and so I wrinkled my nose at the obnoxious smell they let off whilst I settled the final page back into the pile I’d since formed.

“Figured you’d be gone longer.” I couldn’t help but mention whilst he settled in, taking a slow deliberate sip from one of the brown paper cups before he slid the other across the coffee table in my direction, an action to which I raised a brow to.

He shrugged languidly as though nothing had occurred between us earlier, like he had the entire world at his feet actually, and then gathered up the pile, flicking through the pages without much care. “Dealt with that kid and his shitty-ass father, stopped off to get somethin’ to eat when Paul called, then came home.” He quipped promptly enough, leaning forward in his seat to rest his cup back down on the table and shuffle the first few pages between the hands he now had resting on his knees, “This new?”

I flicked my tongue over my front teeth, harsh enough to feel it drag and keep my head from imploading, but careful enough that it didn’t bleed– just yet, I allowed myself to add on. Because honestly, if I had to refrain myself much more than I currently was it sure was going to. 

“Yes.” I quipped shortly, picking up my phone to slide through the brief voice notes I’d made the previous night in bed and then again when I’d stepped out of the shower this morning. “It was just something I kept on replaying, a little melody.” I explained if only so that I wouldn’t allow myself the space to start pestering him with questions and his sudden switch up, because what was with that? “Figured I’d just get it down whether it was good or not.”

He grunted out a hum.

I gritted my teeth.

“What happened at the school then?” I asked in a mutter, feigning nonchalance even though my eyes were already trained on him reading my words and the fact that I was now dying to know what he’d been on about when referencing this kid’s ‘shitty-ass father’. 

His eyes were slow in the way they sloped over to me, my own darting back down to my phone if only so that I could pretend to meet his stare. He looked away again a second later, rolling a single shoulder. “Some teacher caught the shove yesterday, principle was already waitin’ for me when I pulled up.”

Surprised, I blinked. “What, he dragged both you and the kid’s dad in?”

“She. Misogyny has no place in the modern world, Elia.” Marshall corrected all too easily with that curt smile of his that he was so used to using. Typically it would have had me chuckling, but now it just pissed me off further, especially with the use of my full name.

Instead of reacting though, something I supposed he was aiming for there, I rolled my eyes. “She, what the fuck ever. What happened?”

Marshall leaned back in his seat with a quiet huff, “Guy got what was comin’ to him, fuckin’ wrung him and his kid out. Bitch figured he could say a bunch of shit about me and my daughter and I’d just let him?” He blew out a small titter then, though his evident smile was grim, “Bastard’s jus’ lucky I didn’t throw him through one of them windows. Could pay someone more than what he earns in a year to chop his fuckin’ hands off for me.”

I didn’t know how to take his words, all I knew was that a strange emotion had settled over me upon hearing them, almost uncurling the coil that my shoulders had wound themselves into. 

Still, I licked at my lower lip and reached out to take the other cup he’d pushed down onto the table, pleasantly surprised by the lack of coffee it offered. Infact, the sweet taste of chocolate started to chip away at the icy irritation that had been brewing since early this morning. 

“So, no lawsuits?” I murmured over the brim, pulling up a leg to get more comfortable on the sofa, seeing as my little makeshift workspace had now been overtaken. 

Marshall’s eyes caught on me in that next moment and, stupidly, I wasn’t put off by the way they were so clearly examining me. The grit of his jaw softened after a minute and so I figured he’d found whatever it was he was searching so intently for. “A fine for parkin’ in a no-stop zone. But nah, no lawsuits this time ‘round.”

One corner of my mouth ticked upwards impulsively, though I was quick to smother it behind the paper cup, feigning a sigh instead, “And here I thought I’d get to witness a real court in session.”

Em didn’t hide his own smile at my words, his eyes gleaming in a way that gave more away than he realised. You see me, they said. 

I supposed I did.

–

Working on music had always been a way for me to channel or process my emotions and thoughts, whether it was when writing or just messing around. It was possibly the reason as to why I was constantly in a bubble of it, when working, when cooking, driving, when I showered or got ready for bed. It was just always there, a constant companion in a way. 

Em seemed to be torn from the same cloth. In the days I’d spent with him and Rosie, I’d gotten to understand that in a whole new way, he played music almost as much as I did, even if it was barely audible, I could still see the way it settled him in the drum of his hand or the tapping of his foot. I guessed it was why we worked so well together, just in the studio of course.

Somehow we managed to leave whatever resentment and odd feelings we’d been experiencing at the door to the downstairs studio when we’d moved from the living room to get a start on writing again. The song I’d been working on earlier had been pushed to the side so that Marshall could show me the few verses and ideas he’d had for the song we’d been messing with previously, the same one he’d called Dre and practically fawned over.

“I figure it’ll open the album.” He explained from where he’d wheeled his way over to the sound deck, scribbling over the top of it with the pen he kept chewing on subconsciously. “Set the tone, then we can just work around it.” 

I hummed noncommittally, rereading the chorus I’d jotted down and since toyed with. “Could have a big voice on it,” I suggested to him, “Like, it sort of feels like a symphony in the way it builds, I reckon a few people could be jumping over one another for a chance at it.”

When I was met by an immediate silence, the scratch of his pen having paused, the rustle of his papers too. I dragged my eyes up and away from my own page to cast him a sparing glance, but was evidently surprised to find him already watching me. Rather intensely.

“What?” I queried, dropping my hand away from where I’d been rolling my lower lip between my fingertips.

He levelled me with a blank look, “You’re fuckin’ stupid if you reckon I’ma ask anyone but you to sing on this.”

My brow furrowed, before I raised my hand in a placating gesture. “It was just a suggestion– a good one too. Song won’t get as much recognition if I’m on it.”

That blank look shifted so quickly that I could barely even blink before it morphed into something which visibly portrayed his inner irritation. “You think I give a fuck about shit like that? I care about how it sounds, not how much it can make.”

Rolling my eyes, I just shook my head and looked back down at the marked margain, not entertaining him with a reaction. I knew I was right in my words and hadn’t meant anything by it, he could take it how he liked for all I cared. 

He didn’t appear to enjoy that though, seeing as he dropped the pen down onto the deck with a clatter to push himself to his feet and walk closer to the couch I was still perched on. “I mean that shit. What, you think I was jus’ gone push you aside? You think that little of me? Last I checked, this was your fuckin’ song.”

His voice was littered with misplaced exasperation and the way he chose to tower over me, even if he was still stood a foot and a half away, showed it too. He was looking for a fight, had been waiting for it, gearing up. I realised then, rather belatedly, that he wasn’t too good at holding onto his emotions. Sure, he could wait and bite his tongue when he chose to, but those feelings he had only seemed to bubble further the longer he held them in, as though they were stewing in the acid of his stomach, waiting to burn through.

I could really see it now. He was antsy, overassessing, overthinking this entire situation. I could almost smell the unease he’d been simmering in, and I knew it was all down to what had transpired the night before. Only now, he had a real excuse to bite back at me. Rosie wasn’t around to hear or interrupt, and me? I was done being impassive. 

“Yeah, Em. Of course,” I drawled with little to no care as to how I was practically scoffing at his words, “I think you’re an egotistical prick who just wants to steal my work, wasn’t as though I was the one to suggest getting someone else on it or anything.”

He didn’t take too kindly to the sarcasm. 

“You’re awful fuckin’ mouthy for someone who claims they a nobody, you know that?” He sniped back with enough heat to have my back immediately straightening, “All high and mighty, that it? Like you can do no fuckin’ wrong.”

My mouth fell open because– what?

“Just waltz in here,” He continued on in his tirade, “Into my goddamn life and jus’ throw your opinions out, then expect me to lap it all up. Well I ain’t your fuckin’ lapdog and I’m sick of listenin’ to you tell me what to do and how to do it.” He shot out, casting me away with a gesture of his hand which seemed so pointless, what with the way his unblinking gaze was still hooked on me. 

“Me?” I bristled, my voice high in the face of his outright irony as I stared up at him. “You brought me here! You! You were the one to call me, Marshall. You were the one to ask me to collaborate. To come stay with you here. To invite me into your fucking goddamn life!” I mimicked callowly, “So don’t go throwing that shit back in my face just ‘cause it's blown up in yours now.”

“The fuck’s that meant to mean?” Marshall seethed, ridgid in his stance as I forced myself to my feet too, done with sitting below a man so full of anger. 

I laughed bitterly and shook my head at him. “I don’t know what the fuck last night was, but since it happened you’ve been acting like a proper dick about it. An even bigger one than I’d been expecting, too.” I told him plainly, pointing towards his chest as I tried to bite back my gall smile, “And everyone else might be fine soothing your ego and apologising to appease whatever fucking delusions you’ve conjured up in that thick head of yours, but I’m not gonna let a grown man mess with my head and make out like I’ve done something wrong or acted inappropriately. ‘Cause look, I’m sorry if I offended your sensibilities, but again, you’re old enough to fuckin’ be able to work through your own feelings. I can’t be expected to read your mind!”

My chest was heaving with all the anger that fueled my words and I only realised a second too late just how close we’d grown in the short space that sat between his heated question and my reply. 

I glanced up into his eyes, that familiar blue gone, now swimming in dark hues. They flickered between my own and for a split second, I wondered what he saw. He was breathing just as harshly as I was, lit by the intense conclusion we’d been pulled into. 

It was make or break, I figured. 

But then he met me halfway and suddenly I was drowning in him. His hands in my hair, tugging, my fingers digging into his sides. It was unlike the night before, where his breath had been teasing, ghosting over my skin in baited wait. His words soft and genuine. Now it was just sparks flying off–  only not in that shitty Disney magic sort of way, but instead it felt like steel being forged in fire. 

I couldn’t concentrate on the way he was biting at me, teeth clashing as he forced me to expose my neck, me responding in the only way I knew how, dragging his lip between my incisors and pulling. Tugging. Hoping it hurt.

He walked us backwards, feet encasing mine, drawing me up against the nearest wall. My fingers dug in harder, feeling the muscle of his torso jump beneath me. He knocked my head back and we both heard the collision it made with the concrete there but neither of us seemed to care. The sting was enough for me to sink my nails into the skin of his neck and he retaliated by dropping his mouth to my jaw, leaving me gasping at the ceiling that sat above us, pulling him closer even as his own hands started to explore.

“Bastard.” I blew out, voice hitching when his tongue circled around my pulse point.

He answered me by nipping at the skin there, not enough to bruise but to mark, dragging his mouth lower and lower, tugging at the hem of my top until he bit harshly into the collarbone he’d exposed. I choked on my next breath, clawing at his nape until he soothed the sting with a featherlight kiss. 

I dragged his face back up to meet mine, his jaw in the palms of my hands as I knocked my nose against his, panting against his open mouth, not even questioning how I’d gotten this worked up by just his teasing. Because that was what this was, a game. The opener before the real show could begin. He seemed to know it too, smirking briefly at me before he slotted his mouth back over mine, dragging his thumb down my cheek to pool in the small dip there.

My hands fell too, they clung to whichever part of him they could find, but it wasn’t enough. It felt as though everything I’d been feeling, every emotion I’d experienced, not just over the past twelve hours, but during our phone calls, our texts, and the days I’d spent with him here, were pouring out of me. From crevasses that I didn't even know could exist until then.

He pushed and he shoved, greedy in the task of getting what he wanted, but I was just as bad. Just as eager. The moments over the past week where I’d lingered too long, looked too intently, were all making sense now. Silently, I hoped I left my own mark on him, something that was enough to have his mind lingering on me instead. 

I wondered then if he’d known this had been coming. If all his irritation had just been pent up tension. If he’d been angered by the fact he’d given himself away last night.

But then he pulled away. 

My eyelids fluttered.

His thumb dropped to swipe over my bottom lip. It settled there for a second, then two. 

It withdrew, smeared in a sheer coat of spit. I watched on, jaw agape, as he lifted it up to meet his own mouth, wiping it clean in one swift suck all whilst he stared back at me, his eyes taunting. Mouth menacing. 

My next breath escaped me in a silent shudder.

His eyes, dilated and glimmering, flickered between my own. Mirrored arousal looming over us like a thick fog, before he took another step back.

Away.

Retreating.

Only, was that what it was?

I watched, baited by his stance. By the devious look his gaze gave way to. The rest of his features were solemn almost, so blank that it was practically daunting. But his eyes…

They told a different story.

The studio was so quiet I doubted the thought that he couldn’t hear my heavy pants, or the way I swallowed around the lump in my throat. I waited, pondering over his next move, what he might say, before he tilted his head.

The motion caught me by surprise, ever slight as it was, before he spoke, “Times up.”

My face must have ploughed through a dozen different emotions in that brief pause, but confusion won out, head shooting to the right the second he decided to move, crossing the short distance which stood between him and the door.

“Z’s home.”

Ah.

Fuck.

[secret-smut-sideblog]

Girl Talk

Astarion x F! Tav

18+ talks of sexuality, implied trauma, safe words, role reversal, breast worship, grinding, fingering (m!), ass play, rimming, prostate orgasm, some gender play, aftercare, porn w/o plot

One late night Astarion turned their conversation to a more sensual topic and was delighted to discover Tav lacked experience with men. Naturally he was more than happy to lend a hand...

-

"So you've never..." He smiled, laying on his side next to her, the faint miasma of wine around them.

"Never?" She asked, incredulous. "Astarion do you take me for a holy woman?" Smiling cheekily at him. "I thought you surface dwellers thought all Drow are insatiable."

"Well, are they?"

"No comment." She lifted her glass to her lips, sliding her eyes away from him mischievously.

They had been traveling together for a while now and had struck up a fast friendship. Her snarky words and wanton flirtation winning him over. Sharp tongue and sharper eyes.

She leaned back, thinking. "Its more that I've been mostly with women. Sure there was a man or two but they didn't make it far enough to make an impression. Didnt get far below the belt." She shrugged, waving her hand noncommittally.

Of course, in a matriarchal structure she would be more directed towards sapphic pursuits. She had explained that Drow men were not upheld to the most flattering light in her society.

"If you had to pick, in our camp-"

"Karlach," No hesitation. "Oh I'd climb her like a tree."

He blinked, an amused smile teasing the edge of his mouth. "Impeccable taste."

"I have been known to have a refined palate." She smirked.

"Honestly I'm curious but I'm just more comfortable with women, I know their bodies. I can navigate them even without eyes." She laughed.

Ah yes, the eyes. Those haunting eyes.

He had overheard her speaking to Wyll about their shared warlock experience. His, to a devil, to defend his city. Hers, to an eldritch being, to achieve the gift of sight. Tried to smother his frown at the easy energy between them, their instinctive bond.

Logically he knew he should feel this same way about Karlach, with her soft puppy eyes following Tav around camp. But he couldn't keep distaste in his heart for her. Not for long anyway. Wyll on the other hand...

Her demonic white eyes peering good naturedly into his now. He didnt know if he'd ever get used to how they pierced him. She savored every sight and while slightly intoxicating it made him squirm to be looked at so thoroughly.

"Well," He smiled. Leaning towards her conspiratorially. "If you're less experienced with men you could always practice..."

While he found himself enjoying her company, quite a lot if he was honest, he was still looking for an in. And here it was. Plopped in his lap, just a shared drink away.

"Oh please," She rolled her eyes. "My pickings out here are slim to none. Unless I get the sudden urge to get horizontal with a goblin."

"What about closer to camp?" Sliding a little nearer to her, his fingers almost touching the inside of her forearm.

"Astarion," She admonished, drawing out her words. "Wasting your advances? My neck is right here." Turned her head to make her point.

While he was distracted by her jumping pulse point he couldn't help the edge of frustration creeping up him.

He had been putting all of his honeyed words on her, all his soft tempting touches, and she would just dance them off with a light laugh.

She was a natural flirt but there was an air to her that she didn't take his advances to heart. Maybe she thought he was just like that with everyone. That it didn't mean anything.

Given that she was devastatingly beautiful he felt even more pressure to stake his claim. Their companions all circling her constantly. Gods she basically had to beat them away with a stick at the tiefling party.

"What if," He started, tracing his finger languidly up her wrist. "You practiced on me? You can touch me like you would a feminine lover, if that helps."

She sat up on elbows, head cocked slightly to the side, staring at him.

It was suddenly very quiet and he tried not to fidget, finger tracing figure eights into her soft flesh.

"And that wouldn't make you feel... uncomfortable?"

Honestly he hadn't thought that far ahead. This was a person he was free to bed on his own terms, of his own will. And he was rather fond of her. Though he was here with ulterior motives, that didnt mean he couldn't enjoy her company. He could do much worse.

"Oh what's a little exploration between friends..." Looked up at her through his lashes. "Or more than friends."

"I mean, if we're exploring I could get out the strap."

He had been mid drink and choked, sputtering as she laughed, patting hard into his back.

"I'm sorry, just teasing."

"I mean... are you offering?"

She crooked a bemused smile at him. "I think we would have to work up to that, Star. Let's see how the night goes first."

After dinner she gathered her bathing supplies, exchanging pleasantries with everyone as she retreated.

Blowing a cheeky kiss to Karlach as she rose. Her fire erupting in a burst, Gale having to dive off of the log they were sharing. A goofy smile all over her face.

He almost felt bad about what he was planning. She would be much more suited to the tiefling.

Well, it's just sex, it won't mean anything beyond each of their gain. Him, allegiance. Her, pleasure.

He walked on light feet, following her dark auburn hair. The gentle lull of her singing. Playing with the tones and words they had helped the bard Alfira stumble through.

"Moon, Sun, All remind me of your grace, Faith, Care, All the love I can't repay~"

Despite her light and playful demeanor her singing voice was full and haunting. A mournful cello calling out into the night.

He understood why Karlach basically begged her to sing for them around the fire when her little talent was discovered. She had waved her away, insisting that it wouldn't be worth their time. She'd much rather hear Halsin play. Then Halsin had urged her on, countering that he would only pluck a few strings if she joined.

"Fine, prepare to be underwhelmed." She had laughed.

Immediately they went quiet as she started, closing her eyes. He noticed she always closed them when she was concentrating, as if the added sense was too much.

They were enraptured listening to her, even Halsin almost stumbling through cords. Her voice spellbinding them all.

"Gods, Soldier. Are you part harpy?" Karlach hushed after she had fallen quiet.

She smiled, clearly embarrassed. A rare sight. She had an easy confidence, getting her flustered was a feat.

Now, he approached her stealthily at the edge of the river. Faced away, already waist deep, wringing water out of her long hair.

"Are you joining or just hoping for a show?" She smirked, glancing at him over her shoulder.

He was about to scoff, how did she always hear him no matter how quiet he moved?

Seeing his annoyed posture, she smiled. "My ears are more attuned than most seeing people, dont take it personally."

"Noted. I would so enjoy sneaking up on you." He pantomimed, crouching down playfully.

"I bet you would, but you'll have to walk on a whisper to get past me." She winked, sinking down into the water to chest high. Turning to face him. Eyes alight with mischief.

It felt so easy with her. Their banter a practiced dance, the steps surefooted.

"So, are you still dreaming of sharing a night of pleasure?" He mused, pushing his hand on his lower back. A wicked smile on his lips.

She lowered further into the water, only eyes now. Staring at him through her lashes, serpentine. One hand emerging, beckoning him with a hooked finger.

He pulled his clothes off in a sensual show, leaving them in a neat pile next to hers.

As he began to wade in her head submerged. The night water too dark to make out her shape.

He stood in false absence in the water, chest high. Senses alight.

Fingers along his waist, exploring. He looked down and saw her murky shape against his torso.

She rose, chest to chest with him. Pushing her hair slick back over her head. So dark it looked black in the dim light.

"Well, well," He intoned, pulling a damp lock behind her shoulder. "Looks like I caught myself a siren."

"You do know what sirens do to beautiful creatures like you, right?" She cocked her head at him, arms coming up to drape over his shoulders.

Their eyes were level with eachother, nearly the same height. She had teased him mercilessly in camp when it was discovered that she was an inch or two taller.

It felt almost too intimate to be directly across from her, their faces mirrored.

"I'd be more worried for your neck than mine, darling." He purred, flashing her a fang baring smirk.

"Oh I dont know," She mused, pressing her body flush to his. "I think deadly things can be good bedfellows, dont you?"

She brushed her lips against his, pulling away teasingly. "You still want to do this little experiment?"

"I'd love nothing more." He snaked his hands around her waist. "Lead on."

At least he didn't have to do the work this time. Could just lay back and go somewhere else.

Some of his thoughts must have betrayed in his face cause she paused.

"Hey, I'm okay to postpone this. Indefinitely if needed." Her voice was uncharacteristically soft then, pulling away from him.

He grabbed her retreating wrist, leading her back into him.

"Tav, I need this." He hushed, the truth. Though maybe not with the intent she imagined.

She paused again. Gods it made him nervous when she got quiet. Her melodic voice usually floating around the air.

"Ground rules." She stated, her eyes serious. Waiting for his response.

He blinked. Honestly he had given his own boundaries very little, if any thought.

"You first." Stalling for time.

"Not okay with being restrained and I'd prefer if we had a safe word."

He nodded, this was new to him but he did appreciate the idea.

Scouring his mind for definite turn offs but found it difficult. He tried to not be present for most of it so it was hard to say with certainty.

"Dont touch my back or the bite. Also not into restraint. Or force."

She smiled and he felt proud that he had passed this little test.

"We can stop at any time, okay?"

"Naturally, darling. Though I doubt I'll be able to resist ravaging you, I'll behave."

"Those lines work on a lot of women, huh?" She teased, fingers trailing his cheek as she pulled closer.

He felt a slight tightness in his chest but gave her an easy smile. "Well you're here now, arent you darling?"

"True." She whispered, leaning in to kiss his jaw gently. "Though I could say I'm here in the spirit of research."

"And you'd be a liar, a terrible one at that."

She breathed a laugh against him. "You always need to get the last word, huh?"

"Oh, I'll ge-" He was muffled by her mouth, pulling him into a slow exploring kiss.

He felt a little moan escape him, much to his horror. The desire in her touch surprising him.

She held him around his waist, cupping the back of his head. Her lips sliding warm against his.

She pulled away and he found himself following her. "The safe word is Bulette."

He nodded, and she lifted under his thighs and wrapped them around her waist. Walking up to the edge of the water.

His dead heart did race a little bit at that but he figured it was just the role reversal.

Though they were the same height she was much stronger than she looked. Muscle hidden under plush thighs and the soft curve of her stomach. He could feel it when he bit into the defined curve of her neck. See it in her shoulders when she lifted her arms over her head. That little adorable whine when she stretched.

She layed him back on the grass, her hands guiding him down.

"If this is how you treat your women I can see why you've taken so many admirers." He teased.

"You know," She smiled, leaning down over him. "You're beautiful enough it's not a far stretch."

He breathed a laugh through his nose.

"So where would you start, lover?" He purred, twisting a lock of her hair as it fell over him.

She hummed, moving down. "Usually here." Leaning into his neck on his unmarked side.

Kissing and nipping at his throat he found himself giving in to the sensation. Head falling back slightly. He never minded the foreplay.

Her mouth was devotional on his neck, licking and pulling heavenly circles.

He found himself humming with approval. Hand carding through her hair. "That is nice, darling."

"Then I'd move here..." her fingers trailing down his chest, brushing tentatively over his nipple. Asking.

He felt a shiver go down his back. Shocked by the little strike of pleasure.

"And then?" He intoned, hearing the slight rasp in his voice. Definitely intentional.

He felt her smile against his throat. Moving down his front, leaving soft kisses as she went. Thumbing over his nipple playfully.

"I would put my leg here." She hushed, pushing her knee between his thighs. "So she could grind."

"Interesting," He tried for suave, failing miserably. Her fingers softly twisting his peak making him slow and stupid.

"This is my favorite part." She looked up at him through her lashes cheekily. Hovering over his chest. "Hold on, love."

He almost scoffed, surely it wasnt-

Her mouth descended on his chest, licking hard slurping circles around his nipple.

His back arched involuntarily, a loud embarrassing groan leaving him.

She moaned in pleasure, her mouth salivating. Gripping his hips.

Gods she was unhinged, tongue pulsing and insistent. Laving up and down his hard peak. Panting hot against him.

If he had more sense he would have been baffled at how much it seemed she was enjoying just his experience. But he felt lost, head heavy with pleasure.

She pushed her thigh further into him encouragingly and he could no longer resist. Already painfully aroused.

He ground down into her thigh gratefully, feeling her tense the muscle for him.

Her other hand came up to pinch and twist at his nipple as she left it, sliding over to his left side and taking up there. The new sensation making him gasp, both sides of his chest being devastated with equal intensity.

She picked up on the rhythm of his hips and pushed her thigh into him in pulses.

Gods her mouth, rolling her tongue and nipping. Suckling down hard then pulling back to lick long stripes up his chest.

How in the hells was he already close?

He gripped her bicep, wrapping his leg around her hip.

Fuck it. Why not?

"I'm-," He panted.

She moaned into him, biting down on his engorged peak. Rising back up.

He almost whined at the lack of sensation until she latched onto his earlobe.

Oh fuck.

His eyes pulled shut. "Oh Gods, don't stop."

She suckled down hard, a little sweet whine directly in his ear. Her hands gripping his ass and pulling him into her harder. His cock throbbing and sliding wet against her.

One last nibbling suck and he was shattered.

Coming in stuttering cries, head thrown back. His pelvis contracting in great vicious jolts, spurting long ropes against her hip. Distantly aware of the sounds coming out of his lips.

"You with me?" She asked gently after a moment, pulling back. Kissing his face in light caresses.

Suddenly aware of his body again he realized his eyes had welled with tears.

"Ah, yes darling." He ruffled, trying to pull himself together with great effort. "I could actually go again."

She looked at him dubiously, a soft but amused smile on her swollen lips.

"I think you're lying." She purred, leaving a tender kiss on his already bruised neck.

He was. But he had a reputation to uphold.

"All out of moves? Dissapointing." He sighed.

"You're cute," She chided, coming back up to pull him into a searing kiss. "Biting off more than you can chew."

"Oh I've barely been sated, sweet thing. I'm starving."

"On your belly then." She whispered into his ear. Patting his thigh playfully.

"Well, wouldn't you like to be tasted?" He asked, confused. Surely she didnt intend to only pursue his pleasure.

"Hmm, maybe another night." She mused, truly seeming to mull it over.

What a strange creature.

"Are all sapphics like this?" He scoffed, letting her hands twist his waist. Hips up, bracing himself on his forearms.

"More than you'd think." She laughed, massaging his hips from behind.

"You know what you're doing back there?" He teased, shooting her a look over his shoulder.

"Hmm, different from what I'm used to. But I think I can translate." She eyed his backside playfully. "But dont hesitate to give me directions."

She leaned down and tongued gingerly at his hole.

His head fell forward, hands in fists.

"Well that's encouragement." She teased, tongue coming back. Moving in tight circles.

"Ah!" He moaned, pushing back into her.

Though he knew she was new to this she moved with practiced precision. He could tell she was very good at what she did on more feminine bodies.

"I heard this is a good spot." She murmured, her two fingers rubbing back and forth against his taint. The shudder that moved through him making her smile.

Tongue coming back to push slow pulsing heaven into him. Both sensations playing him like a fiddle. His fingernails digging into his palm.

Oh Gods it was too good. And still he needed more.

"Inside. One finger." He moaned into his arm.

She wet her finger inside her mouth, tested it in small circles around his entrance. Other hand still stimulating.

She pushed in gradually, pausing one knuckle deep. "Like this?"

"Yes," He panted. "Slowly."

"It feels so similar." She marveled, finger almost to the hilt. "How lovely."

He clenched at her words and heard a delighted giggle. "Even that! Oh!"

"If that's the same, then what about..." She curled her finger toward his navel.

He moaned loudly, buckling down.

"Oh yes," She smiled, beginning slow pulsing thrusts of her hooked finger. Other hand pushing more into his taint. Hitting his prostate from both sides.

A moaning writhing mess beneath her, he was completely gone.

"Oh how pretty, coming undone like this." She purred, leaning down to lick around her pumping fingers.

He knew he was not long for this world, the building pressure in his pelvis about to burst. Reaching around to grip her thigh with a bruising intensity.

"Such a good girl for me." She hummed.

He cried out, his end hitting him so hard he thought he would black out. A deep shuddering ripping through him. His whole world condensed to nearly agonizing waves of pleasure. Tears spilling down his cheeks he bit hard into his forearm. His cock forcing out what little he had left in him.

He collapsed comepletely flat into the ground, the damp earth holding him up.

She left his back momentarily, coming back with a cloth, wet from the river.

She pulled his slack body up to her chest, his back cradled into her. Softly wiping first his brow then working her way down.

"You dont ha-"

"This is part of it, love." She smiled, running her hand through his hair, cajoling it back into place. "You're getting the full experience."

He leaned into her, closing his eyes. Letting her bathe him clean. He knew future him would be screaming into his pillow at this but he was too blissed out to care.

"Thank you," She gave him one final wipe. Setting the cloth down and wrapping her arms loosely around his middle. "For trying this with me. For trusting me."

"You did everything and you're thanking me?" He laughed, still panting. "You're a strange woman, you know."

"If you're so insistent maybe you can do all the work next time." She pinched his side lightly.

Next time. The anxiety in his heart melting just for a moment. Oh thank the Gods.

"If Karlach doesn't beat you to it, that is."

"You're the devil."

She laughed against his back, his eyes getting heavy.

"Let's get you to your bedroll, we'll have a brand new day of bothering eachother tomorrow."

He would never admit it to her, but he was looking forward to it.

~

Part 2

[faetima]

Hi!! Can I please request a hanahaki fic with blade? I'm not sure if you've written for him though!

Also, please take some breaks! You've written a lot of fics lately, you might get overworked 🤍

𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐫𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫. .

. .hanahaki just had to put you through fucking hell, didn't it?

// tws ; lil bit of cursing, blood ; gn reader ; modern au, hanahaki au

a/n: OH MY GOD ANON YOURE LITERALLY THE SWEETEST ILYSM OMOGMOGO

i will be writing a part two to this.. soon enough :3

you couldn't do anything about this stupid disease anyways, so what was the point of even trying?

you heaved up clusters and clusters and clusters of ugly bright red petals, their sickly sweet scent making its way up to your nose. you felt so fucking nauseous and dizzy. the fragrant miasma of flowers overwhelmed you. you wanted to vomit or cry or die or anything but cough up these dumb stupid flowers.

the flowers flopped onto your floor--your newly polished floor-- ungracefully, covered in slick mucus and freshly coated in splatters of blood. they smeared the previously pristine tiling with blood, the iron stench of it mixing with the flowers and filling up the entire room. you just wanted the disease to kill you already. if it was going to either way, why make you suffer?

after what felt like hours and hours and hours and hours of coughing and heaving and choking, the flowers finally stopped fucking coming. you took shaky shallow breathes, trying to ground yourself.

your palms stung, and you looked down to realize you had been digging your nails into the palms of your hand almost strong enough to draw blood.

your gaze trailed up to the stupid fucking flowers.

upon closer inspection, you realized they were spider lilies. red ones.

his favorite flowers.

too bad you hated them.

--

his eyes were the same exact color of the flowers you had just coughed up.

blade sat two seats in front of you and one to the right, and whenever you saw him you couldn't help but wonder why you had fallen for him.

he was always so indifferent and cold. sure there might've been something warmer under his icy exterior, but you weren't the type of person to go dig through someone's cold attitude just to find out what they were actually like.

but some days you wished you knew what was under that cold front of his.

--

you were getting worse.

you'd barley come out of your room to stretch your legs or go to the bathroom or even eat.

the spider lilies were killing you from the inside out. of course you had to have hanahaki for someone who probably hated you, if he even knew you existed, that is.

and, on top of that, out of all flowers, the ones you coughed up had to be toxic.

if just hacking up the flowers was bad, the nausea they caused because of being toxic was worse. you couldn't even go five minutes without feeling abdominal pain and nausea.

ugh.

--

blade swallowed hard.

why did he feel like this? why did his heart beat so fast when this random ass person passed by?

he gritted his teeth.

"kafka," he grumbled, barley glancing in her direction.

kafka glanced up from her book, setting it down elegantly and tucking a strand of mauve hair behind her ear, adjusting the tinted glasses sitting atop her head in the process.

"yes, bladie?" she grinned a little, and blade could only groan in irritation.

"who's that?" he muttered, gesturing towards the person he had been thinking about earlier.

"why?" kafka mused. "you've never been interested in learning others' names before now. what's changed?"

"nothing," he muttered gruffly, crossing his arms across his chest. his ears felt hot and his heart was beating faster and he was getting butterflies and he didn't know why.

kafka grinned, eyes glinting with amusement.

"ooh, i think someone has a crush."

"no."

"okay, let's go talk to them then bladie."

"no!"

"why not? is it cause you like them?"

"..fine. let's go talk to them."

--

your head fell forward a little. another sleepless night of coughing up flowers didn't bring you any good.

suddenly, your eyes snapped open.

was that.. blade? walking towards you? with kafka?

no, it probably wasn't. you were probably just sleep deprived and hallucinating or something.

but then you smelt the strong and unmistakable scent of anise, too real to be your imagination.

[ratwithhands]

Burst AU concept sketches!!

I'm about to head into culminatings at school so I'm not going to have very much time to draw until mid/late June. I figured I'd drop off some of the different concept sketches I've been doing in the meantime. Here are 9 of the burst designs made so far for Ingo, Emmet, and Volo.

These designs are mostly set to different timelines/parts of the story; Chandelure, Haxorus, Durant, and Galvantula are all bursts that the twins have when they're in Unova, with Chandelure and Galvantula being their "starter" burst hearts. When Ingo gets eebied he loses his burst hearts (which Emmet holds onto while he's away) and ends up finding a Gliscor burst heart hiding in the dirt of the highlands.

Now, depending on the good or bad ending of the story, Emmet either makes friends with Celebi and gets permission to use its burst, or Emmet goes hunting for burst hearts worldwide until he finds Nihilego and keeps it to make wormholes.

As for Volo, he got a little present from a "friend" and that's how he got his burst hearts. Though, much like the twins, the fact that he has them is a secret that most people don't know.

Anyways it was really fun to design these!! I think my faves from this batch are Durant, Nihilego, and Chandelure. What are yours? Also, semi related, but I tried running some battles in Showdown just for fun and to say the least I found some *interesting* results. Definitely going to make for some funny battles later in the story.

Alright that's all, hope you like the art and tell me what you think! Have a good night, see you guys later ^^

[mudandmire]

✨Azris time-loop AU✨

UPDATE - - -

16k folks! It's not polished in the slightest, also not done, but man am I having fun. I had no idea so many people love time-loop aus!! This is so exciting, I feel like a mouse who found a little mouse colony 🐁

...I think I've gotten to a point where I hate my writing because I want it to get better but also I know it's getting better by objective comparison but also the progress is so slow and I'm so wordy so all my scenes are like over 1k words and it's a pain in my ASS anyway 😎

moral of the story is to never trust what you think about your writing (by extension yourself) after 9pm.

I have SNIPPETS come and get y'all food

---

The archer is somewhere else this time. Eris takes too long trying to find him, and by then it's too late. Rhur goes down with the bodily thunk of an arrow meeting its mark. His form crumpling to the ground as it spears right into his chest, spurting blood as he falls onto his back, the bones of his wings crunching beneath his dead weight.

Rhav is lost soon after. Caught in the throes of devastation, he doesn't see the archer draw another arrow and aim again. Eris's shout of his name falls on ringing ears, and though he throws a lash of flame at the archer, he looses his arrow before the fire can scorch him.

The brother falls. His body splayed beside his kin.

Eris knows, then, this cycle he will not win. Not that there was much hope, but his mind is scattered with how quickly things went wrong. He doesn't even hear the draw of a bow—larger than the ones made for slinging across the back. Wildly, his eyes scan his surroundings taking nothing in. It's only Azriel's voice, rising loud and panicked above his own panting breath, that he's able to break through the wave of hopelessness that had overcome him.

Too late.

The heavy twang of a bow string. Eris's hair stands on end at the sound of a whistle, high and soft as air behind him—Azriel's war cry is lost to darkness.

Eris opens his eyes to the yawning, black mouth of the roof of his tent. His eyes are wide, he can feel his lids stretch in panic as he pats himself down from head to chest to abdomen. A quick death. He can't help the relieved swallow as he tips his head back, squeezing his eyes closed.

Stuck in the pitch black of his tent, the ground cold and hard beneath him, Eris curls up on his side. Dreading the light. Dreading the loud footsteps of Anton signaling the start of another cycle. His breath is entirely locked away in his chest—tightened and painful as he brings his knees up to his sternum. As close as he can get to being small enough to wink out of existence.

Something solid presses through the thin stuffing of his pillow and into the side of his face. Too hard to be the earth, it rises like a crest from beneath and Eris feels dread slide down his spine.

The dagger. Azriel's Cauldron-forsaken weapon Eris had foolishly taken from the ruins that first day. Looking back, he doesn't know if it was in some misguided sense of remorse or remembrance. Either way his lip curls up in a snarl at the thought of its ornate onyx hilt.

A thought dawns; sharp and bright as the dagger under his head. If he could destroy it, would it end the endless days? It sends a foolish spark of hope, burning as a carefully tended fire, into his chest.

Eris works quickly, knowing the sun is not so far away now. He cannot be there when Anton comes—he firmly shoves away the intrusive thought that if this works he'll be able to explain why he wasn't there. Steps at a time; the dagger, his armor, his sword, his pack. Night settles around the camp in a blanket, dawn just barely on the cusp of the horizon, that bleary, opaque blue lightening the sky beyond. The darkness is scattered around the torches, set every couple of feet down the row of tents. Even at such a quiet hour, the faint sound of talking between the guards on watch prick Eris's sensitive ears. He makes sure to walk on light feet—in the way his armor won't brush and clink and give him away.

The stables are too far, makeshift and holding supplies Eris knows will be heavily guarded against thieves. Instead, he aims for a group of stallions near a trough. There's packs of horses everywhere, not enough room in the camp to set up a stable for hundreds of them.

Eris's breaths fogs in front of his face, steaming against his night-chilled skin as he ducks behind the spread of a canvas tent as two guards pass in front of the torchlight.

Their chatter fades, Eris makes his quick dash across the field for the tied up horses. A sleek, black friesian had caught his eye.

Apart from light, it moves like an oil-slick shadow. Eris is careful, walking crouched and slow towards them. These aren't war horses, not like how the Spring and Autumn court bred them.

They snort at his presence, heads dipping and thick lashes fluttering as they stamp a hoof on the ground.

"Shh," Eris hushes them, no louder than an exhale. The night is waning, he can make out the edges of tents and the makeshift buildings now.

"Shh, easy," he says again, taking each step cautiously towards the friesian.

Eris knows from his time with his hounds and in the Forest House's stables, how to handle a spooked horse. Hopefully—he begs against the pounding of his heart—it doesn't come to that. The friesian blinks his big, lake-dark eyes at him when Eris approaches. He doesn't shift nor flinch when Eris runs careful, soothing palms up the side of his muzzle, a gentle caress against the smooth pelt.

"Good." He whispers, easily untying the knot of its reins on the fence post in front of him.

"I apologize for dragging you away," the reins come loose, and he slips them over the friesian's head, "I promise you will not come to harm, friend."

The friesian does not say anything back, his mild manner relaxing Eris's tense shoulders ever so slightly.

They cannot stay long, though, Eris knows. Keeping careful eye on the progress of dawn—sooner or later Anton will come to his tent and find him missing.

"Come." Eris leads the stallion away from the group, getting nothing but a snort in response as he jolts into a heavy-boned trot.

Eris hadn't thought very hard about which direction he would go, he only knew where he wouldn't. The mountains to the east morph to a stunning shade of violet this early in the morning. Gathered around its roots are the dark, tangled shadows of a forest.

Quickening his movements, Eris attaches his pack to the friesian's saddle, hefting himself up with one more comforting pat to the strong neck. One touch of his hand to his hip lets him know the dagger is still there. It's not a comfort, yet he breathes a sigh of relief and leans forward over the stallion's back.

Their escape is gentle—quiet. Though it's difficult to make a horse's hooves silent, if not impossible, so Eris keeps his body tucked as close to the saddle as possible.

The tents are beginning to thin out, dry, sun-worn land crunching under hooves as Eris begins to relax.

"Hey!" Eris's ears perk up at the same time his heart tumbles down from his chest into his stomach.

"Hey—someone help me get this horse!"

One of the guards walking the camp grounds calls out, most likely to his partner on duty. Eris takes a quick glance over his shoulder, revealing the soldier in all his fine, shining armor glinting in the light of a torch in his hand.

Eris's eyes narrow, and with a ripple of heat in his irises, the torch in the guards hand flares. A flame jumps out, tall and licking at the empty sky. The soldier yells in alarm, dropping it as stray sparks fly into his face.

A quick kick of his heels into the friesian's flank sends them off into the direction of the dark boundary of the forest. Eris leaves the clamor of the guards behind him, settling into his seat and trying to get a handle on his pulse as he does on the reins.

The friesian works up to a canter quickly. The dense, strong muscle of his body moving under Eris as he shifts in his seat. He had been riding since he was a boy, ponies no taller than his hounds, until his feet could comfortably fit into the stirrups. It is not new to him, so acclimating is easy enough as they bolt across the landscape, racing for the safety of the shadows.

---

the amount of times I've killed Azriel so far in this draft is insane. I'm trying to make it, like, respectful? It's not death for deaths sake, y'know, I don't wanna kill him just because, but I need to it's necessary. I'm playing the game "how many ways can I describe someone dying" and it's....something. that's for damn sure.

Also I made a map 👉👈 I can't plan battles for SHIT and though I love the artistic-ness of the Prythian map I can't envision anything being anywhere. so. enjoy my crappy little rendition of dawn and day court, not the whole of Prythian cause that would be ridiculous, but I needed something cause my brain just can't picture places I guess

✨ta daa✨ (thank you Inkarnate)

Tag-list: (lemme know if you want on or off)

@chunkypossum @c-starstuff-man0 @molcat07 @futurehunt

[simp999]

I feel this is cringe but it itches the back of my mind like no other… since it’s late 60s early 70s in tf2, mercs reaction to there being a new recruit who is a female pilot? I’m sorry if this sounds like? Hyper specific ? But she’s like hot biker/pilot bitch who is like the epitome of Cool Girl (tm) flared ripped jeans and tight tank tops yk?

GOING INSANE OVER THIS ITS SUCH A COOL IDEA

I'm so sorry about how long it took to make this and how short it is, I'm trying to do all my requests in order of what I received em ww

TF2 Mercs x Badass Fem Pilot! Reader Headcannons

Wc: 730

Themes: uhh Fluff? Romantic and platonic depends on character

A/N: Sniper bias whoop

A/N 2: okay so. I try to stray away from fem reader stuff but this THIS is a complete exception because I love the idea sm

Taglist: @emotionally-alive-sniper @moopy-milk @skeleton-stomper-xoxo @emotionallyunwellmedic @physically-robotic-medic

Masterlist

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Scout: 

-God,, he is immediately in love with your style and vibes.

-Yes, in a simpery way

-Will absolutely fumble on words and flirt miserably

-"Hey girl are you a pilot cause uh you’re really cool"

-Absolutely will find clothes that he thinks suits your style and be your #1 hypeman 

Soldier:

-Wants to touch all the buttons

-"SHOW ME YOUR MEDALS!!!!!!"

-Does respect the effort and time you’ve put into training definetly. But is always asking you to prove yourself

-Okay you can pilot but can you do 30 pushups. Right here right now.

Pyro:

-Doesn’t think of you any differently if you’re female

-A new cool friend!!

-Just an adorable little goober. Okay maybe they get to sit in the front sometimes

-Loves loves loves making drawings of you and them and planes!!!! And clouds

Heavy: 

-Protective older brother.

-He is SO overprotective of you. You remind him too much of his sisters.

-You’re strong just like them but,, it’s just scary, y’know? He misses them

-Often just kinda chills around- and won’t stand for ANY harassment or anything rude. AHEM spy AHEM

-And the clear bias for you? It’s honestly funny at times

-He definetly makes you sandviches and just. Silently takes care of you

Engie:

-Rocket boosters for the planes. He’s gonna bring it up on multiple occasions

-Makes you little plane trinkets out of wood and stuff!! Pyro paints them :]

-Is so interested in infodumping about mechanical stuff with you- he’s glad he has somebody that just. GETS HIM yknow?

-If you need someplace to go chill away from the chaos that the mercs usually bring, the workshop’s your go-to. Late night convos are the best with this man

Demo:

-Roughhouses!!

-Treats you like one of the guys

-Respectfully ofc but. You’re getting noogies

-Will be offering you beer n stuff, he treats you like a really good friend

-Lives for your vibes

-He thinks you’re so badass!! Hell yeah!!!

Medic:

-Kay so. You probably had to go through lots of training right?? So!;

-Rivalry for first aid.

-Hear me out

-Everyone all of a sudden wants you to help make them feel better when they get small injuries because of the one time you mentionned you had to do a buttload of first-aid courses

-So. Lots of who can make it to the scene and get (injured person) back on their feet the quickest

-Does ask you if you’ve ever expirinenced or witnessed anything wild- such as big crashes, and how people dealt with the situations

-Loves your stories despite pretending to hate you- it’s just a friendly rivalry!

Sniper:

-He’s not one to really apprach you, but he does definetly admire you from a distance.

-He thinks you’re too cool for him :( 

-But eventually one day, you’ll ctach him stargazing- and you’d have the amazing idea of bringing him for a ride just the two of you so that you can see the stars

-.God maybe he just fell in love I MEAN WHAT????? ANYWAys

-He LOVES stargazing with you!!

-You get to tell eachother stories and it’s overall really calming- a nice from the hectic mercenary life

-He also happens to know a fair bit about constellations, so he’ll infodump unconsiously if you let him :) 

Spy:

-Spyyyy… dislikes your ideals, and has traditional values

-Not a fan of the way you hold yourself, but will eventually warm up a bit

-Im sorry,, I just don’t like Spy aheh anyways

-You probably end up showing off your skills- not of purpose though, just- you seen a natural at what you do, and that’s when he sees that maybe there’s a reason you’re such a big deal

(Bonus!) All:

-They all fight over who gets to sit in the passenger seat. Some are more civil about it, for example Engineer or Heavy- but they still want to sit in the front for their own reasons. You may have walked into the room only to find all the mercs fighting iver who’s calling shotgun for the next ride.

“I AM GOING TO PRESS ALL THE BUTTONS!”

“NO WAY CHUCKLEFUCK, I’M SITTIN’ NEXT TA THE HOT CHICK!”

“No. Heavy will sit next to pilot for protection. Is only fair.”

“Ya’ll- I have some things I’d like to see up close in the cockpit, I think I should be next.”

“Mmhhph!!!”

.

.

.

Sep.20.23

[caramellcandy]

Okay so here it is! I used the idea i sent previously so since its night time Polite can in fact hug them if he wants to. Anyway I hope you like it!

Odysseus sits at his desk late into the night plotting the path home. Its obvious he has not been sleeping well with eye bags and tangled hair as he leans back with a tired sigh. He knows he should try to sleep but he can feel the weight of those who had died pulling at him and he knows all he will find in sleep is haunting nightmares and screams.

"Odysseus?"

Odysseus scrambles off the chair knocking it down in the process as he draws his sword and points it at the intruder. He flinches at the ghostly sight of his best friend looking exactly like he did in death but soon hardens his heart and glares.

"Who are you?"

Polites no not polites the imposter he has to be an imposter looks confused and hurt as he tries to reach out towards Odysseus a bloody hand reaching out one last time the word Captain ringing in his ears causing him to flinch. Polites pulls back eyes filled with familiar concern and sadness.

The door bursts open and Eurylochus rushes in eyes worried and determined but pauses, tense, as he catches sight of Polites.

"Captain? What's going on? I came in here because I heard a commotion but..."

"I'm not sure yet they were just about to me who they are."

Polites tries to show one of his usual sunshine smiles but it comes across more like pleading for them to believe him.

"What do you mean ,its me, im Polites!"

Odysseus really wants to believe him but after everything ... How can he know its not just another trick, a cruel punishment from some God. But if it really is him...

"Fine if your really who you say you are tell me something only Polites would know."

Polites perks up with a bright smile, happy to have a chance to prove himself. He pauses to think about before smirking his eyes full of mischief.

"Remember that time when you were 12 and you were washing off in the stream and a crawfish latched onto your-"

"OKAY okay you don't need to finish I believe you!"

Odysseus has a light blush, embarrassed as he glares at Eurylochus who is obviously struggling to contain laughter.

"Eurylochus, Not. A. Word."

Eurylochus looks away trying to hide the grin on his face as he still holds back laughter.

"I have no idea what your talking about Captain."

Odysseus groans as he buries his face in his hands.

"Seriously Polites out of everything you could have said why did it have to be that."

Both Polites and Eurylochus can't hold it in anymore and burst into laughter at his embarrassment. Odysseus chuckles a bit but soon laughter turns into tears as he breaks down sobbing finally realizing that its really him.

"Polites I'm so sorry.. I should have done bett-"

Polites pulls him into a hug and hushes him.

"No Ody I promise my death is not your fault okay? Please don't blame yourself anymore."

Odysseus flinches before relaxing into the hug. Its not as warm as it used to be but its still just as comforting simply because its Polites. Eurylochus kneels down and places a comforting hand on Odysseus until Polites drags him into the hug as well. He tenses but soon relaxes as he starts to cry silently.

For the first time in forever they three of them lay there on the floor simply happy to embrace each other as they cry. They clung to each other not caring that Odysseus might be a bit more monstrous than before, that Polites is still dead, or that Eurylochus has grown more and more concerned for Odysseus and the crew. No all that matters is that they are together again and right now that is enough.

it's so cute that the three of them end up hugging, I love it❤

[richeeduvie]

I imagine it’s almost impossible for Lalo to get emotional during a movie, but the closest he gets is when there’s a little girl in a movie that’s crying and scared and alone. Alice in wonderland got to him just a little. Pan’s labyrinth DESTROYED this man inside.

Because every time he sees a little girl crying and scared he thinks of princesa when she called him on the night he killed her father. And he thinks of how many times princesa must have cried as a little girl, all alone and scared, before she grew up and Lalo found her. Before he even knew she existed. And it makes Lalo burn. He wants to dig up her father and kill him again 1000 different ways, but it still wouldn’t be enough.

This is Not for Tears - blurb

You catch Lalo almost crying at the movie you're watching. You don't know why. anon ily and ur thinking, everything comes back to Princesa lets be fr.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.

It's a harsh scene, but you're also thinking on how good of an actress that little girl is. She's crying, eyes squeezing shut and there's just something different, something more of a heartbreaking when a child cries - especially her, she's alone in the story now.

"Please, I'm sorry! Come back!"

You swallow, letting your head fall to Lalo's shoulder, arm locked with his.

You pride yourself, as stupid as it is, that you can really focus when it comes to film and TV, but the grip of Lalo's hand on his knee catches your eye.

But it's his eyes, the tensity that burns into the screen.

"Lalo?"

It's like he could break his jeans with the hold of his palm, the pulsing of his fingers.

"Are you okay?"

Lalo takes in a breath he doesn't let go. He doesn't share the air with you...almost like its wrong to breathe when he's angry like this.

"...This is a bad movie."

You blink, sitting back up. "What?"

He sniffs harshly, straightening out his body against the couch. "Why are they making this niñita cry like this?"

"Because...she - or the character...she's going through a lot. She just got lost in the la-"

"It's a bad movie, Princesa. Little girls shouldn't cry like that."

...You don't know what to do, you barely know what to think when it comes to what Lalo must be feeling. You sniffle.

"It is sad."

Lalo huffs before he shakes his head once.

"No kidding."

In the dark, it's almost impossible to see everything that makes up Lalo's face right now - but when the screen flashes bright, you see a...dewiness on the edge of his waterlines.

Like he's about to cry.

But that can't be it. Lalo doesn't cry. Not over movies, anyway - but you've never seen him cry before.

And you know him, you know you shouldn't mention it at all.

Lalo sniffs again.

"Lalo? Is it really that sad-"

"What kind of people think of a story where there's a niñita crying throughout half of it, huh? What kind of sick mind is that?"

You swallow again.

"I don't know, when I was little - I used to write things like that, before I realized I liked drawing better. But I know, it is a lot."

You sniffle again. Lalo turns to you, turns to stare into your eyes before getting up. You pause the movie to get up with him. He wipes his nose.

"It's just...it's not no story that should be real."

His body takes you to the kitchen, Lalo opens the fridge to take out two beers. Not for one for him and one for you, both to share one bottle.

"You want your slice of cake?"

From the other day when you were craving cake.

"Now?"

"...You want your slice."

Lalo takes it out to put it on the table. You sit down.

"You and me can watch some late night TV later. But Princesa, you..."

Lalo smiles, head tilting to the side and tilting low. He pinches your nose, holding it for five seconds or so.

"I what?"

There's nothing on his face before he smiles, off to grab a fork. He comes back to sit at your side, pulling his chair so close. The air between the both of you is little, but it tickles.

He takes a piece of the cake over on the fork, you know to open your mouth.

"Nothing."

And you believe him for the cake slice and the two beers, then the third. Then the fourth.

The fifth is where you can only bare focus to the hilarity of the TV, choking on giggles against Lalo's chest. The fifth is where he spills, even though you don't really know it.

"I did have a hard life when I was a boy. I didn't think nothing of it. Still don't." Lalo coughs and rubs your back, a soothing motion you curl into. He's got warm hands. "But little Princesa had a hard life too. Hard, hard life."

He says it into your hair, you feel the rumble of his chest, the coarseness of his goatee.

"You tell me things about you as a little girl, sweet girl...and you laugh on it. You don't think I think about it. Hm?"

He taps on your spine. You don't know if he wants to respond to whatever he's saying. But he's...calm. Sure of his words. They're low.

You blink into his chest, fingers curling over his shirt.

"I don't think you know that I would do what I did to your papa over and over again."

You don't know whatever he sees you don't know. You believe him. You smile warm when he kisses your hair and wraps his arms around you tighter.

"You don't know."

"Mhm."

You can't help but smile even wider when Lalo kisses you one more time under a pause in the dark.