#bones in quarantine

[arliedraws]

First War Order of the Phoenix members who were super killed

“Benjy Fenwick, he copped it too, we only ever found bits of him... That's Marlene McKinnon, she was killed two weeks after this was taken… That's Dorcas Meadowes, Voldemort killed her personally... That's Edgar Bones...brother of Amelia Bones, they got him and his family too, he was a great wizard... Gideon Prewett, it took five Death Eaters to kill him…”

[swag696942069]

What anime do you guys think Regulus would've been obsessed with during quarantine?

[bonefall]

I'm so sorry and you do not need to post this one. But in the post about hypothetical homophobia in the clans I read "sexualities are seen as any other matesprit preference" and the thought of trying to combine homestuck troll quadrants with every complexity here launched me into the stratosphere (<- I'm not sure what emotion that's meant to invoke. But boy it Sure Was One) (ALSO I LOVE YOUR WORK :3 FUN AS HELL TO READ I LOVE DETAILS)

TO be fair troll quadrants are not even that complex, the writer is just Verbose and Karkat is bad at explaining

Kismesistude is rivalry. You hate loving them. Berrynose and Lionblaze.

Matesprits are standard romantic love.

Moirails are queerplatonic, super besties. I write Blackstar and Russetfur like this

An Auspice is a polyamorous arrangement where the third partner helps facilitate the constellation. Without that third member, they fall into another quadrant

And then in the comic, the drama comes from their society's expectation that you're ideally supposed to have one of each. "Filled quadrants." It's considered deviant to have 2 of one type, and pathetic to have no quadrants filled.

It's a replacement for the fact that Trolls don't have parents, or family. Just an animal that technically raises them, called a lusus, and ancestors that they closest resemble. They don't typically have brothers, or cousins, or what have you.

(Besides identical twins in the newest material but shush)

[vulcanservepinch]

spock and jim would’ve got together so much faster if enterprise ncc-1701 had had a similar de-contamination chamber as enterprise nx-01

bones would have taken one look at them on their first day and come up with some medical reason to lock them in and have them rub lube onto each other

[markets]

i should just go have sex <- girl who’s lost all hope voice

[dhampiravidi]

another "Save Shadow & Bone" idea!

ok but WHAT IF the beloved cast of S&B took the script for the show's S3 (since we know it's done & the showrunner loves it) & just did the 1st few episodes on YouTube, virtually?

it'd be FUNNY, obviously--while in quarantine, a lot of actors did some small, silly shows online. moreover, fans already LOVE the cast & we want more content.

picture Jessie w/dark eyeshadow the more she makes morally corrupt decisions. Amita w/kitchen knives when necessary. Ben doing SFX (apparently he actually did them for the nichevo'ya & well...who knows when Aleksander would be played by him again, except maybe in flashbacks). all the Grisha people have tons of practice doing their gestures for the Small Science, so *cue physical improv*

anyway, I think it'd be a great way to show how much people want to watch more Shadow & Bone (aside from the petitions, which are awesome but only take a second to sign)! all the more reason for another network to pick things up again w/the same cast!

[foxmulderautism]

i love felix but it's sooo funny how lover boy came together so perfectly and made so much sense suddenly as soon as i cut his POV out lmfao like. babygirl you were the parasite

[derinthescarletpescatarian]

wait, Derin how did your leaving make the hospital shut down?

I used to work as a live-in nanny for a pediatrician.

Now, the thing about hospitals in my country is that they are massively understaffed and massively underfunded. This is especially true outside the major cities. The staff are worked to the bone and receive little to no help in things like finding accommodation or childcare, making working in rural areas a very uninviting prospect; staff come out here, get lumped with the work of three people (because there's nobody else to do it), burn out under the workload and leave, meaning that those remaining have even more work because that person is gone. It's unsustainable and the medical staff are doing their best to sustain it, because people die if they don't, so to the higher-ups it looks like everything's getting done and therefore everything is fine.

My friend (and boss) worked one week on, one week off, swapping out with another pediatrician. This was necessary because it would not be physically possible for one person to handle the workload for longer periods of time. The one single pediatrician had to hold up the entire pediatrics ward, which was not only the only public hospital pediatrics ward in our town, but also the one that served all the towns around us for a few hours' drive in all directions. I regularly saw her go to work sick, aching, tired, or with a debilitating 'I can barely make words or see' level migraine, because if she took a day off, twenty children didn't get healthcare that day, and some of these kids' appointments were scheduled weeks in advance. She'd work long hours in the day and then be called in a couple of times overnight for an hour or two at a time (she was on-call at night too, because somebody had to be), and then go in the next day. Sometimes she would be forced to take a day off because she physically could not stay awake for longer than a few minutes at a time, meaning she couldn't drive to work.

Cue my niece's second birthday coming up in Melbourne. I'd been working for her for about 3 years, and she (and the hospital) had plenty of advance warning that I (and therefore she) needed one (1) Friday off. That's fine, we'll find someone to work that Friday, the hospital said. Right up until the last week where they're like "oh, we can't find a replacement; you can come in, can't you?"

No, she tells them; I don't have anyone to watch my kid that day.

Oh, surely you can hire a babysitter for this one day, they say. Think of the children! We really really need you to work that day. I know we said it'd be fine but we need you now, there's no one else to do it.

There are no other babysitters, she told them. Unless you can find one?

That's not our responsibility, they said.

But I'm not changing my plans, she's got plans by now as well, the hospital knew about this one day weeks in advance, and with absolutely no reserve staff they're forced to reschedule all pediatrics appointments for that Friday. Not a huge deal, it happens on the 'physically too overworked to get out of bed' days too. I go to Melbourne, she goes back to her home in Adelaide for her recovery week, all should be on track.

My niece gives me Covid.

This was way back in the first wave of the pandemic, and there were no Covid vaccines yet. The rules were isolate, mask up, hope. I had Covid in the house, and it would've been madness for my friend and her toddler to come back into the Covid house instead of staying in Adelaide. There was absolutely no way that a pediatrician could live with someone in quarantine due to Covid and go to work in the hospital with sick children every day. And no support existed for finding another babysitter, or temporary accommodation, so the hospital was down a pediatrician.

The other pediatrician wasn't available to do a three-week stint. They were also trapped in Adelaide on their well-earned week off.

Meaning that the only major pediatrics ward within a several-hour radius had no pediatricians. They had to shut down and send all urgent cases to Adelaide for the week. To the complete absence of surprise of any of the doctors or nurses; of course this would happen, this was bound to happen, it presumably keeps happening. But probably to the surprise of the higher-ups. After all, the hospital was doing fine, right? Of course all the staff were complaining of overwork and a lack of resources in every meeting, but they could always be fobbed off with the promise of more help sometime in the future; the work was mostly getting done, so the issue couldn't be too urgent.

It's not like some nanny who doesn't even work for the hospital could go out of town for a weekend for the first time in three years, and get the only public pediatrics ward in the area shut down for a week.

[bitchface24-7]

SUCCUBUS - VIKTOR X READER

synopsis: Viktor needs help building a prototype, he can’t do certain tasks due to his back and his leg. Jayce has the flu and decided to quarantine himself away from the lab, which leaves you. You have no problem coming in on your day off, you just aren’t in your usual academy approved outfits. You’re in your casual style that Viktor’s never seen before. You think he may have an aneurysm when he does.

warnings: y’all got a spider lower abdomen tattoo, you mention your past nickname from the undercity (black widow), flustered Viktor, flirty reader, suggestiveness, Grammarly is my beta

genre: m/f or m/m

p.s. This random idea popped into my head before I decided to take a nap, hope y'all like it LMAO

Viktor groans in frustration. He needs help soldering the wires at the bottom of the contraption, he can't do it himself. His back and leg won't allow for it.

He knows Jayce would help in a heartbeat, but he's sick right now with the flu and decided the best course of action is to self-quarantine until he was able to beat the virus. Viktor can't fault him for that.

So he calls you instead. He knows this is your scheduled day off, and he hopes you come. This is all he needs help with, after that he's golden. You can leave (if you want) and still have the rest of the day to yourself. He’ll only need you for about half an hour to an hour at most.

You of course come. Viktor rarely asks for help, so for him to willingly call you and ask as sweetly as he did, well you can't refuse.

It didn't click in your mind that you're in casual clothes, not the academy-approved uniform of slacks, a button-down, and, vest combo.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Viktor’s ears perk when he hears the lab doors open. He knows it’s you, the lab was locked before you came in.

He's doing some note-taking and minor adjustments to the prototype as he talks, not looking up from his work, “You came, great! I apologize for calling you on your day off, I just need help with one small task then you're free to go. It should only take about half an hour to an hour of your time.”

“Ok, sweet! Where do you need me.”

“I need you—” Viktor stops talking as he turns around to look at you, his voice caught in his throat. You're not in academy uniform, is his first thought. He almost hits himself on the forehead cause, no duh! It’s your day off!

His second thought is holy shit goddamn what the fuck. You're in casual clothing, and Viktor is trying to sear this into his memory. You're in a plain black t-shirt that stops a little ways above your belly button, low rise blue jeans, and a pair of simple leather boots. The main part that caught Viktor's eye is the spider tattoo drapped casually across your lower abdomen.

There's so much skin on display Viktor doesn't know where to look.

“I—uh—hmm— I need you to solder some wires for me on the bottom of the prototype, on the underside.” Viktor stutters as he darts his gaze across your body.

“Ok, no biggie. Got a crawler for me?” You ask as you look the prototype over, not even realizing the lecherous gaze Viktor has on your body.

“Right here.” He states as he pushes the crawler towards you with his good leg, “All the tools you need are ready to use as well.”

You smile at the pretty man and plop yourself onto the crawler, putting your safety equipment on, you roll under the prototype.

“So connect the wires to the same coloured points correct?” You ask, confirming your assumption.

Viktor hums as he checks out your stretched out body. He gets to see your tattoo in its full glory, your hip bones, the band of your underwear.

“What? Oh yes. Connect the wires to their matching points.”

You snort at his distracted state, what the hell has gotten into him? This is odd, but you just do what your told and help your partner out.

The lab is in a comfortable silence as you work. You assume Viktor is note-taking, while in reality he's checking you out.

Is this how you normally dress? Viktor wouldn't know. He only ever sees you in the lab. You look nice, really nice. Too nice. You're very distracting and Viktor is thankful you don’t dress like that in the lab; no work would get done otherwise.

Viktor in his daze, hasn't realized you stopped working a few minutes ago, and are currently looking at him with a smug look on your face.

“See something you like?”

“Huh? What? I—um. I don't know what you're talking about?!”

“Uh-huh.”

“… Why’d you get that tattoo?”

You smirk at him, getting up off the crawler and dusting imaginary dust off yourself as you take off your protective gear, “It’s a bit of an inside joke. I would protect the working girls and guys against violence. When one of the customer didn't treat them right; I'd teach them a lesson. I always seduced them beforehand before beating the shit out of them or… getting rid of them. One of the workers called be a black widow and it stuck.” You say casually with a shrug.

Viktor’s eyes just widen. That’s one hell of an inside joke; he doesn’t realize he said it out loud until he hears your cackle of a laugh.

“I’ve got more, wanna see ‘em?” You say teasingly, crossing your arms over your chest. Viktor just nods silently.

You laugh at his immediate agreement, “Can’t do it here, it’d be considered public indecency if I just started to strip.”

Man screw this prototype, Viktor just found something much more exciting to observe and work on.

“Your place or mine?” Viktor jokingly asks and you can’t help but laugh. What a charmer this guy is.

You can’t wait to see all his other reactions to your tattoos.

This is short but lowkey it’s tasty. Go reader go! You got this man stuttering and eyeing you down 😏

[bonefall]

+1 for reading this blog like a newspaper

(also, quid is slang for pound/£. 4 quid = £4 Think it's a southern/maybe specifically cockney thing?? Suddenly doubting that. Definitely more associated with working-lower middle class people)

I heard Quid more than Pound where I visited, and that was definitely not southern England so I don't think it's a southern thing

If there was any one thing I learned it's that wow Northerners don't like London

[davidjself]

My 400 hugs

In the quiet shadows of quarantine’s hold, Where friends drift away, and time grows cold, I found solace in grooves and the stories they told, Four hundred vinyl records, my memories unfold.

Each disc a refuge, a haven, a friend, Spinning tales of jazz, where notes ascend, Disco beats that made my spirit bend, Back to the nights that seemed never to end.

Loneliness lingered, like a shadow’s embrace, But music filled the void, a comforting space, The needle dropped, and in its trace, Echoes of home, a familiar face.

Jazz whispered secrets, in saxophones’ sigh, Trumpets soared, like dreams in the sky, Piano keys, soft as a lover’s goodbye, Each melody a reason to try.

Disco lights danced, though the room was bare, Their rhythms vibrant, beyond compare, In each beat, I found a flare, Of the life I missed, the love I’d share.

Vinyl spun stories of times long past, Of laughter and joy, meant to last, In their grooves, my heart was cast, A collection of comfort, unsurpassed.

Through COVID’s long nights, as I stood alone, These records were my flesh and bone, Reminding me of the warmth I’d known, Of friends once close, of a distant home.

Four hundred vinyls, a symphony, In their embrace, I found my plea, To dance again, wild and free, To the disco’s beat, to jazz’s spree.

In each spin, a promise to hold tight, Through every lonely, silent night, That music’s magic, pure and bright, Would guide me back into the light.

[thekombuchagirl]

CODE ZERO

Summary: It was an ordinary humid sunday of June until it wasn't. Of all things you expected to happen in the summer of '25, preventing the spread of another epidemic wasn't one. Locked in the pantry of a cafe with a masked stranger, all you could hear outside were animalistic groans and the occasional crackle of breaking bones. Just when you thought that the last moments of your life would be sitting across an intimidatingly hot man, a table flips, literally.

Pairing: discharged soldier!yoongi x fem journalist!reader

what to expect? gore, zombies, banter in the face of death, explicit language, yoongi walks around in a tank with a manbun for a whole day, reader develops a liking for smashing skulls halfway through the story, sexual tension that can be cut with a knife and eventual smut

Age rating: 18+ mdni!

a/n: hi

P R O L O G U E

In all the twenty six years of your life, you have had seen thousands of doors. But never in all those years, had you paid such close attention to any of it. As your eyes remained fixed on the door of the pantry, you could faintly feel the heat of the body that was pressing to your back and the rough hand that was covering your mouth. All you could hear was the erratic beating of your heart and the growls from the other side of the door. The sounds playing in your ear kept getting louder and louder as if you were still outside and about to be caught in the clutches of whatever those things were. You could not even hear your heartbeat anymore. It was just animalistic growling and the sound of bones cracking. Just when you thought that the door was about to burst open, a murmur of assurance warmed your ear.

"It's alright. You're safe now."

Your eyes shot open. The dark ceiling felt like a familiar void. You closed your eyes again. You've had nightmares since you were a child but it never felt as real. Your heart was still beating so fast that it felt like it would come out of your throat any moment. Your throat was dry and you could barely swallow. Reaching out for the glass of water that you always keep on your end table, your hands came empty. That's when you realised that your back was against a solid plain, a floor. You sat up in a blink only for your eyes to meet a familiar pair of dark brown ones and a door behind him; the door from your nightmare.

Only, it wasn't a nightmare. No matter how many times you would close your eyes, it would always open to meet the same pair and the door. Those eyes watched you with nothing but boredom and the door felt like a layer of paper separating you from the things out there. It was real. The end of the world had begun and it just had to be when you were on your first solo trip. It just had to be when you were about to quit your job over a call. It just had to be when you were finally beginning a life that you wanted.

The stranger sitting in front of you was staring at you like you were a diaper commercial and he hated kids. His mask was hanging low on the bridge of his nose. He looked... unfazed, especially when he lowered his mask, yawned nonchalantly before looking at you again and deadpanned,

"Good sleep?"

"This is a notice to all residents that the outbreak of an unidentified disease that is wrecking havoc in the town has been now recognised as a violent outbreak. We recommend all residents to stay indoors and prevent any interaction with any infected person. If you come in contact with any infected person, immediately quarantine yourself in a closed space. We will be sharing further updates through radio channel 204. All entries and exits to the town are being temporarily restricted. Please wait for further instructions-"

"We can't get in touch with Yoongi, should I go out and-"

"No, Jimin. If he doesn't come back in two days, we will go out to look for him together."

"Whatever you say, RM," Jimin nodded at him, smiling at his freshly sharpened knife.

[hurt-and-comfort-me-please]

Whumpees who are never touched

There's a million ways to torture a person without ever laying a hand on them.

Whumpees slowly losing their minds in a solid white room, rubbing their own blood on the walls just to see something.

Whumpees who can't sleep because they're too full of caffeine from the drugged food.

Whumpees who have to listen as their loved ones are tortured.

Whumpees who are locked up and abandoned to starve.

Whumpees who are denied medical care after an accident, suffering the pain of broken bones without assistance.

Whumpees who haven't felt the touch of another person in forever, at this point even a punch would be welcome.

Whumpees who are stuck in quarantine, only ever able to see others through the thick glass walls.

Whumpees who are completely touch averse, even the gentlest brush of fingers against their hand makes their skin crawl.

Whumpees who were turned into monsters, and nobody is brave enough to get close.

Can you guys tell I really like emotional whump?

[darylbae]

Always read your fics and enjoyed them from afar , , why not send a request ! ^^ Don't feel pressured to write this too this is a little weird now that I read it over and sorry for the long req ! ! >< Could you write some an angsty or fluffy oneshot of a reader infected with the deadly flu during (i think) early season 4 and Daryl determined to cure her of the sickness. Them both having conversations between the glass of the prison where the reader is just at the point of giving up and accepting they'll die by this flu and Daryl is trying to give them hope. There's the scene with the group who went to the veterinary (..?) college/university to grab medicine for Hershel to use where they find out Bob didn't grab shit and Daryl just goes off at him because the reader was so kind and generous to him wdym you only grabbed BOOZE?? And then it ends with the reader who's cured of the flu, running into Daryl's arms both relieved and happy that they can finally hold each other again. Which ends in Daryl showering them in kisses because yay they're cured ! The idea just came to me while I was laying at the beach, "If the reader, his lover, was infected by the flu how much more angry would Daryl be with Bob when he only grabs alcohol?"

quarantine — daryl dixon

in which the flu catches up to you, and daryl is stressed about losing you

note: my requests are still open!! i have a few to write but im still happy to accept them! <3

Your job prior to the apocalypse was a caregiver to the elderly, so you had experience with a lot of medication and general practice of caring for someone. It's why Daryl had become so drawn to you, seeing you care for your people, or even people from Woodbury that had just been taken in, you gave everyone the same love and attention regardless of time spent with them. Daryl hadn't realised his longstanding affection for you until this flu outbreak within your prison community. You'd volunteered to help everyone alongside Herschel, caring more about the well-being of others more than your own. Until you'd gotten sick. "It was inevitable, honey," you spoke, not having the energy to even raise your voice above a whisper, "I'm glad I kept everyone in here hydrated, fed, and stable. But we're not seeing any progress." Daryl was on the other end of the window, eyes staring intensely into yours, wishing he could touch you, wishing he could hear your voice clear as day and not muffled due to being separated. Daryl sighed in defeat. "You don't deserve this." "Nobody does, but we need medication, Dar." You admitted. "It's the only way for people to get better, otherwise, we'll die in here." The thought of losing anyone else was enough of a push to find some medication, but the thought of losing you was enough to get him anywhere. He'd ride for days, hell, he'd walk for days if it meant you could get better. "I'm taking a group out, I'll get ya the meds. Just rest f'me, okay sweetheart?" Daryl was pleading now, you could hear the whine in his voice. You nodded, coughing into your hands as you hobbled away.

Days had passed. You couldn't get out of bed most mornings, even as Herschel did his rounds. Usually you'd join him, making sure everyone had water and food. But your bones ached, your head was pounding, you were sweating through your clothes. "Why don't the caregivers care for themselves, hm?" Herschel asked, entering your cell with a pitcher of water. You smiled painfully, reaching for your cup and holding it up for him. "Not used to it, I guess.." You wheezed, stabling yourself before another coughing fit. "How is everyone?" "Good as they can be, I guess." "Any word on the meds?" You asked, wanting to take the moment off yourself and onto a cure. Herschel shook his head. "Daryl keeps asking about you, though. It's rather sweet, really." "He is. Contrary to how he acts." You smiled, the thought of how he only acted around you. You'd caught him smiling a few times, even laughing at your terrible jokes. "I know a man in love when I see one."

Herschel had alerted you that Daryl was by the window again, asking for you. So you'd made the effort to hobble out of your cell and over to the window. And Daryl almost collapsed at the sight of you. Pale, hunched over in pain, sweat dripping from your skin. Your once glowing skin replaced with dullness, dark circles under your eyes. "Hey," you whispered, your hand on the glass, "how are you?" "How are you?" He asked, matching your hand with his and the both of you craved the feeling of the other's skin on yours. This was pure torture. "I can't do this anymore, Dar." You tried to take in a deep breathe, but you would wheeze as you did so. "It's getting harder. To talk, to walk, to move at all." Daryl's brows furrowed, trying to hold in every ounce of emotion threatening to spill out of him. "I know, sweetheart, I know." "They really need those meds in here, they're not getting any better." You confessed, there was no point trying to hide it now, you'd be walkers in a matter of days. "I'm gettin' em, I promise. Jus' been findin' fuel and supplies for our trip, we're leavin' today." Daryl mumbled, doubts and fears running rampant in his head. "Jus' came to say goodbye and I'll be back for ya." "I know you will, when I'm better I want a nice hug from you. It's the least bit of affection I deserve." You smiled, matching his as he shoved his middle finger up at you. But you knew what he meant. You could wait to tell him you loved him too.

Daryl had gone with Michonne, Bob, and Tyreece to a veterinary college for the medication, but Daryl couldn't think straight. He hadn't realised just how much you meant to him until you were isolated away from him. And he wasn't going to keep it to himself anymore. "We're in and we're out." Daryl instructed the team, leading them into the building. "Grab everything you can." He was so focused on finding the names of everything he needed, shoving it into his bag, he had his sights set on his objective and nobody else. Walkers had become the least of his worries. Even when the escapes had been overrun with walkers, he'd found a window which took them out to a roof. "We can walk over this roof, get us away from 'em." Daryl suggested, helping Michonne through the roof and carefully out of the building. The four steadily climbed out, aiming to walk along and find a quiet place to drop down, but Bob had lost balance and almost let go of his bag. Daryl turned, seeing the commotion and seeing Bob so desperately clinging to the back, completely ignoring any sense of fear from the walkers. "Just let it go!" Tyreece called out, but Bob was adamant on pulling the bag up. And Daryl had leaned forward to retrieve the bag from him. "What's so damn important in here, huh?" Daryl mumbled to himself, unzipping the backpack and pulling out a bottle. A bottle of what looked like whiskey. "All that for a drink?" Daryl reached his arm up to lunge it away, but Bob let out a yelp. "Please," he pleaded, "don't. It's just for when it get's quiet." Daryl was seething, why should he listen to his cries? He was on a selfish solo-mission. "Just give it to him." Michonne sighed, still wary of her footing as the walkers were clambering for their feet. "I can't believe this shit!" Daryl exclaimed, Bob's eyes fixed onto the alcohol sloshing around in Daryl's hands. "Should've left ya to die out there, we been so nice to ya. Y/N's been so nice to ya, and ya don't care one bit." "You take a sip of this before these meds get in our people," Daryl stepped to Bob, a menacing expression on his face as he shoved the bottle into his chest, "I will beat your ass into the ground."

It was a silent trip home, Daryl in the front seat with his head on the window. He couldn't stop thinking about you, about whether you were dead or alive. He was praying for the latter, and Daryl never prayed. In his life, he was so anti-God but when it came to you, he'd try anything. So seeing the familiar prison gates, Daryl almost leapt out the car whilst it was still rolling. He'd taken the bags of supplies straight to the quarantine zone, throwing it over to Herschel and sitting impatiently by the window. The window you'd always talk at, pressing your hands against it together, the one he hoped wouldn't have to separate you any longer. He had nothing to do except wait. He'd anxiously play with the ends of his hair, biting on his lip whilst he waited for any signs of progression. He sat, completely alone, just waiting for you. Completely unaware of the time passing around him. It wasn't until Maggie spotted him, and approached him slowly. "Everyone's taken the meds, they just need rest." She confirmed, and his heart lifted. "She's okay, but I think you need some rest too." "Thanks." Daryl spoke softly, a small smile on his lips as Maggie had exited the quarantine zone. He'd only waited a little while longer, until admitting defeat for the night.

The next morning, Daryl was up and spent the morning outside. Fixing the fence, stabbing some walkers in the skull, the usual daily tasks for him now. He'd accepted that you'd needed your rest, at least you were alive. But the weight still sat in his chest, even knowing you were on the mend, he wanted you. He needed you. Bob's selfish actions yesterday were now but a passing thought, he was solely centered on you. So he'd eaten some food, spoken to Carol, gone about his day as he usually would. Except you were missing. It had gotten to the evening, the sun setting behind the trees and it was a sight he wished to experience with you. "Hey handsome," he heard behind him, his head snapping to the direction of your voice, seeing you stood, weakly, against a wall. "Oh my God," he tried to speak, but it came out as more of a whimper. He'd abandoned his smoke, throwing it onto the ground before wrapping you into his body. Feeling your skin on his, your voice blessing his ears, it felt too good to be true. "Dar," you croaked, "too tight." You giggled when he'd released you, brushing his hands down your back, not wanting to take his hands from you.

[unamzi]

Hc that Nightmare's goo sometimes makes him lose things.

Like, he'll wake up and it covered his mouth so he just doesn't have a mouth for the day. Can't speak no nothing.

Sometimes he gets fully blinded by his goo by it covering his other eye. He gets really scared then.

When that happens he needs to go on a negativity quarantine (essentially starve himself) so his goo gets liquid enough to be swiped away and he gets his mouth/eye back.

Also. His goo consistency depends on how much negativity he has in him. The less negativity he has, the more liquid it is (making for the risk of it not holding up his bones and making him unable to use his limbs. Kinda like being quadriplegic I think? Sorry if I'm using that word wrong.) If he has too much negativity, his goo will become almost solid and kinda make him like a statue, or at least make it extremely difficult to move.

This is also where the 'balance' comes from. It doesn't affect Dream, but Nightmare is very much affected by the amount of negativity in the multiverse. Dream is kinda making sure Nightmare doesn't get these results (either by fighting against him, or letting him win a fight 'accidentally') since he still cares for his brother.

Dream knows about Nightmare's condition with his goo from just kinda... Brotherly instinct? I mean, they're guardians, wouldn't be that far fetched they just instinctively know things about each other.

[houseofmasks]

♱ baby, patience is a virtue.

pairing: victoria neuman x fem!reader ⚢

warnings: nsfw (sesbian lex!!!!), mommy kink ahaha 😹😹😹, minor ??? orgasm denial/control, semi-exhibitionism, affectionate degradation, controversial age difference (reader is in their early twenties), power imbalance-ish (boss x assistant)

word count: 3.8k

synopsis: you poor, pathetic thing. you just couldn’t bear to keep your hands to yourself until vicky was finished with her work for the night, could you? and during a zoom meeting no less. oh well; you’re lucky the congresswoman is never one to deny you, so you better not regret being such an impatient brat later.‎

part 2: tba

authors note: wow okay first fic! hope you guys enjoy this absolute filth. was craving victoria carnally today and this manifested itself. anyway bone app the tit or however the saying goes lol…………..

     work is dreadfully boring. a fact victoria finds herself reminded of far too often these long days she spends cooped up inside her spacious home office, the recent pandemic keeping her restricted to the confines of her admittedly peaceful, cape cod-style house. as much as the congresswoman relishes her time off in the comfortability and familiarity of one of her few safe spaces (god knows how busy her schedule typically is and how rare it is for her to be out of the public eye), she can’t help but feel like she’s going stir crazy. victoria is so used to being on the move, or at the very least absorbed into her duties at the fbsa; always busy.

     she could, in theory, go to the building anyway and resume her work as usual—being the supe she is, victoria has no need to worry about illnesses, diseases, viruses and the like. that’s knowledge a very select few are privy to however, and so, she has to keep up appearances. it wouldn’t look good for a congresswoman of her standing to be going against the mandated quarantine anyway. she needed to set an example as a government figure.

     now it’s all paperwork… paperwork, a zoom meeting or two, and so on. it’s dull, tedious—victoria is convinced that if she has to do this for much longer, she might pop her own head. she hates how… unfulfilling her routine has become. aside from you, of course; her girl—sweet little thing. you’d taken it upon yourself to all but move in at this point, much to zoe’s satisfaction (and victoria’s own). you’d been together long enough that it was going to happen sooner rather than later anyhow. the pandemic simply sped things along somewhat. victoria can see a silver lining in that.

     you provide the congresswoman with a spark she likely wouldn’t survive being stuck indoors without. eager to please, whenever you can—even if it’s simply bringing a smile to victoria’s face or rousing a laugh from her when she’s had to listen to her insufferable colleagues speak down on her for three hours straight. like now.

     the congressmen, who have been bickering back and forth over a new bill that’s been drafted for the last six hours, are finally taking a break from their oh-so productive discussion. for how long? victoria isn’t sure, but she’s grateful for the reprieve regardless. after turning off her camera and muting her microphone on her laptop, she leans back in her plush office chair with a hefty sigh. victoria brings a hand to her hair as she lets her eyelids fall shut, gingerly stroking her fingers through the already semi-tousled strands of her dark brown locks.

     a few moments later, the soft click of the door opening rouses victoria’s attention. she lifts her weary head with a silent breath, tired expression softening when her vision lands on you. a ghost of a smile tugs at the corners of victoria’s lips, dark brown eyes—now having a somewhat possessive glimmer, narrowing at you playfully when they sweep over your nightwear. an old, baggy sweater of her’s from her columbia days—thighs bare to her subtly ravenous gaze. victoria usually wasn’t one for such little pieces of nostalgia, but, the sweater was an article of clothing that she’s never found herself willing to retire, no matter how wash-worn the logo at the center has become. the fabric remains soft.

     it seems she’s not the only one who’s fond of it either. victoria tilts her head a fraction and lifts a thick, sculpted brow at you, clicking her tongue against the roof of her mouth before she speaks. her voice is clearly teasing, but having a husky edge to it that lets you know she appreciates the view you’ve given her. “lose your pants on the way down here, sweetheart? can’t say i’m complaining.”

     you look adorable, and absolutely edible—the sweater hangs off of you, but not to the point that she can’t catch a glimpse of your panties beneath the hem when you shift. victoria swallows imperceptibly, and adjusts her posture slightly, sitting taller in your presence, legs moving to manspread. her little jab results in a somewhat indignant huff from you, which the congresswoman expected. she’s already surmised that you’ve come to chastise her, given how late her meetings have been keeping her up for the last couple of weeks; you must be feeling needy. victoria would be lying if she said she wasn’t pent up herself.

     “how much longer do you have to listen to them argue like chickens with their heads cut off?” you ask, tone mildly impatient. you lean against the doorframe, your head pressing into the wood as you hold victoria’s gaze. “you said you’d be done by ten,” you point out as your arms cross over your chest, nails tapping against your forearms. victoria can already feel the attitude rolling off of you in waves. normally, she’d efficiently put you in your place for your testiness with a promise to edge you until you learned your lesson. guilt, weighing somewhat heavily on her shoulders however, stops her this time around. you were right—she’d told you to expect her in bed nearly two hours ago now.

     “i know,” victoria exhales quietly, offering you an apologetic frown before properly apologizing for her absence. “i know, baby, i’m sorry. i can’t help it though—you know how work is for me, especially right now. i’ll make it up to you tomorrow night, alright? i promise.”

     there she goes again, looking at you with those bambi eyes and making you honey-dipped promises. god, usually that’s all it takes to get you to fold to her every whim—after all, how could you possibly do anything else when she looks at you so sweetly? but tonight isn’t usual. no, not in the slightest. your girlfriend hasn’t touched you in nearly two weeks, an (incredibly) active sex life taking a downward spiral to stagnancy. you’re horny, and tonight was supposed to be the night the both of you were finally going to get some much needed time for intimacy.

     you’ll be damned if you let some old, white bastards who can’t decide if the fucking sky is blue deprive you of what you deserve. they get vicky far too much. you’re the one that deserves her attention, and you’re going to get it. so, you move away from the doorframe, and close the door to victoria’s home office behind you, turning the lock, just in case. the implication isn’t lost on the congresswoman, who’s jaw tightens as you take several strides forward until you’re standing between her legs.

     a low drawl of your name from victoria’s lips is her weak attempt at a warning; she has no time to indulge in your desires right now, or her own for that matter, regardless of how terribly tempted she is to have you bent over her desk so she can fill and drill into your pussy from behind with her fingers, her meeting be damned. life is not so fair, though, you aren’t deterred from getting what you want despite your girlfriend’s disapproving mumble, and you slide into her lap as you have so many times before, thighs bracketing her own as you bring your arms around her neck.

     “just for a little bit?” you hum, batting your eyelashes slightly as you trace your nails along the curve of victoria’s jaw. the congresswoman’s cheeks burn red, both out of desire, and embarrassment for just how aroused that simple motion of yours, combined with the pleading lilt to your voice makes her. fuck. victoria doesn’t like to rush—taking her time with you is her favorite thing to do. for example, she could spend hours between your thighs ravaging you, drawing out those mewls and whines of yours that she loves so much; giving you what you want now will start something the both of you surely won’t be able to stop, and with her meeting, she has no leeway for that.

     but then you lean in, lips brushing against the shell of victoria’s ear, voice like silk. “please?” you whisper, making sure your tone is a sweet as it can be, without laying it on too thick.

     to seal the deal, you nip at victoria’s ear once. a wave of something wholly unholy washes over her, making the brunette shiver, and the fraying ends of her restraint snap. victoria grasps the nape of your neck, roughly forcing your head back with a tug to meet her gaze. she leans forward with an almost patronizing sigh, but the heat in her dark brown pools is unmistakable. “tsk. such a needy brat…”

     that said, victoria pulls you down to close the remaining gap between your lips, kissing you feverishly, her free hand cradling one of your cheeks. you melt into her immediately, a soft moan making your lips part, which the older woman takes advantage of. her tongue briefly brushes across your lips before slipping into your mouth, her own slanting. a satisfied sound rumbles in the back of victoria’s throat, and you press forward greedily, encouraged by her response. lifting your hands, you tangle them in her hair, holding onto the strands as you pull victoria forwards, like the two of you could possibly get any closer in your position.

     a few minutes of making out, and you’re already whimpering and whining in her lap, which you’ve started to squirm against, your hips just barely rolling down. god, you must need this more than she thought. victoria pulls you away to break the deep kiss you’re currently sharing, the both of you letting out ragged breaths. a string of saliva still connects you, until she speaks after a beat passes that the two of you use to catch your breath. “you’re getting too worked up, doll,” victoria chuckles, her voice airy and almost mocking, “are you really that desperate for it right now?”

     before you get the chance to respond, victoria is cupping you through your panties, her thumb pressing down against the outline of your swollen clit. whatever words you’d started to speak breaking off into a sharp whine, arching back making your chest push towards the congresswoman’s own. victoria coos in response, the hand on your nape sliding away to grasp your chin, forcing you to look at her again whenever your head starts to fall backward. “you poooor thing,” she croons, the pad of her thumb stroking over your moistened lips. “mommy would love to take care of you, but she’s busy right now. can’t you see that, baby?”

     you can only reply with a pitiful whine—the word mommy falling from victoria’s lips spiking your arousal. victoria coos again, her other thumb rubbing in slow, languid circles against your bud. “i know, pretty girl,” she murmurs, gripping your chin a bit more firmly as she pulls you down to her eye level. “do you have any idea what you do to me? the audacity you have, to walk in here while i’m having a meeting, looking like that… wearing my shirt…” her voice lowers to a husky grumble.

     of course you know. that was the whole reason you’d chosen to don just her sweater and a pair of panties—a little attempt at seduction, and while victoria has always been the more charming and devious out of you, your efforts seem to have worked. you won’t admit such a thing, however. so instead, you opt to change the subject, playing into victoria’s arousal in a bid to get more stimulation from her. “vicky…” you start, your voice shaky. the feeling of victoria’s breath, still fanning gently across your lips makes your head swim. “can’t you feel how wet i am for you?” you whine, “don’t torture me, please.”

     “torture?” victoria echoes with a lighthearted scoff, moving the hand on your chin to cradle the side of your face, thumb brushing against the skin of your cheekbone. “i’m not torturing you, babygirl… you’re the one who took it upon yourself to sit in my lap. i’m only giving you what you asked for.”

     you let out a growl of frustration when victoria speeds up her circling thumb just to bring it down to an agonizingly slow pace that leaves you wanting, her other fingers stroking over the damp patch that’s formed on your panties all while your clit throbs incessantly for victoria’s proper attention. you start to make a witty retort to bring to light your discontent, but the voices of the congressmen return on victoria’s laptop and she tuts. “that’s too bad, i was thinking about giving you a little more too…” victoria leans back slightly, taking in the pout that grows on your face. victoria frowns condescendingly, patting your cheek out of pity. “baby, patience is a virtue.”

     no, no, no! you let out a petulant whine of utter agitation, or perhaps disbelief, and victoria gives a downright cruel laugh in response, her eyes crinkling at you in amusement. oh, you’re going to wipe that look off of her face if it’s the last fucking thing you do—give her a taste of her own medicine. with a grunt you quickly dismount from victoria’s lap, and for a moment, the congresswoman looks shocked—she hadn’t expected you to get up so willingly, but it’s mere moments later that she realizes your true intentions.

     really, she should’ve anticipated this. she knows just how insatiable you can be when you get all hot and bothered.

     you drop down to your knees in one smooth motion, tugging victoria forward in her chair by her legs to bring her closer to her desk. you’re glad she’d decided to wear a skirt today, and that she was still in it. “baby, wait a minute—” victoria begins to interject, but you don’t allow her to finish.

     you hike up victoria’s skirt and pull her panties down her legs with a surprising amount of force, enough that it manages to rouse a rare squeak from the brunette, which you can’t help but smirk at. leaning forward, you waste no time, not wanting to give victoria’s more professional tendencies the chance to interrupt. you press the flat of your tongue against the warm petals of her cunt, spreading them apart to lick up the wetness that had gathered between them before dragging your tongue up to her clit. you find her gaze, watching her expression contort between frustration, affection, and lust through your lashes. the sight of you on your knees, tucked beneath her desk like this and that damn look in your eyes…

     victoria surrenders and buries her fingers in your hair, curling around the strands tightly with a hiss. “god you’re insufferable sometimes, i swear… ah- fuck, you’re pathetic, can’t even wait a bit longer…” she trails off and within the same sentence, pushes your head closer to her. you moan into her pussy, the vibration managing to get a soft moan out of the congresswoman. you lap at her more earnestly, working your whole jaw hoping she’ll appreciate your efforts (she does), and that it’ll lessen your punishment for being so impatient later (it won’t).

     with a shaky sigh victoria tugs you off of her, a gentle pop of your lips removed from her clit following, and you look up with a confused whimper, a glistening strand of her sticky wetness still attaching you to her dripping warmth. fuck, you’re too cute for your own good. victoria’s heart throbs, and she tucks some of your hair behind your ear then brushes her thumb over your glossy lips. “can you be good and manage to be quiet for me, baby?” and of course, you nod, just like she thought you would. victoria hums in approval at your obedience, “that’s my girl,” she murmurs tenderly, and promptly brings your opening mouth to her cunt again. “get busy then. mommy needs this just as much as you do.”

victoria turns her camera and microphone back on and immerses herself in her meeting; this time, she has something to fall back on when they inevitably begin to argue again. only you and victoria can hear the soft, faint squelches of your warm, pillowy, and sinfully wet mouth devouring her like you haven’t gotten to in ages. you’re so eager, so eager that victoria has to tug on your hair a few times to get you to slow down, otherwise half of congress would be hearing her cry out your name.

     gradually victoria relaxes further in her chair, letting out a content sigh as you suckle on her clit, your tongue tracing gentle patterns against the bundle of nerves at the same time. victoria really did need this just as much as you did; it wasn’t going to be long before she came, and you’d only been at it for ten minutes now. you seem to sense this too, as you double your efforts, eating her out like a woman starved. victoria’s eyes widen at your renewed fervor, and her thighs reflexively squeeze around your head.

     “fuck—” victoria lets out a moan which she quickly covers with a cough as she yanks at your hair in a gesture for you to slow your pace. none of her colleagues notice, thankfully, too caught up in their bickering. but like a fucking brat, you choose now to be difficult. feeling you smirk against her pussy, victoria shifts her gaze down to you with the intention to give you a warning glare, but you just eye up at her cheekily, and start to focus all of your attention to her clit, your slick, hot tongue flicking across the swollen bud quickly. the wrath in victoria’s dark brown eyes fades away rapidly, and her features slacken from pleasure, her lips parting as she sucks in a large breath.

     victoria can’t handle it—she’s been on edge for too long, and you both know it. a little whimper crawls out of her throat, and she props her elbow up on her desk, balling a fist before she brings her arm up, pressing her curled fingers against her mouth to mask her arousal. god, she could only imagine what her co-workers would say if they knew what was going on behind the screen they can see her on. here they are, bickering over some meaningless government spending bill, and she has you slurping at her drenched cunt underneath her desk while she tunes them out. victoria can’t help the way the direction of her thoughts begins to stroke her ego, and she starts to rock her hips against you, her carefully sculpted composure cracking.

     the gratified whimper you reward her with spurs her on as she mushes your face entirely against her pussy—she glances down at you briefly, a sight for sore eyes you are, eyes closed; chin and mouth covered in spit and victoria’s wetness. what would they think of her if they knew she had her thighs wrapped around such a sweet, pretty little thing like yourself? a girl nearly a decade younger than her, and her assistant of all things (she’d admittedly hired you at the fbsa early into your relationship due to your dreadful job at vought-a-burger, a small abuse of her powers).

     oh, they’d scorn her without a second thought, despite their own mistresses and midnight rendezvous. half of them are old enough to be grandfather’s too. victoria nearly scoffs, but she finds her eyes drawn to you again. you working between her thighs is enough to quell any real unrest within her.

     she’s pleasantly surprised to see that at some point, you’ve dipped a hand beneath your panties to touch yourself, and she feels the coil in her stomach start to tighten, knowing that you’re so turned on just from having your face shoved into her cunt like this. victoria is willing to bet that her colleagues never get a view such as this either—like you, and pride flares to life in her chest.

     “fuck, look at you…” victoria murmurs adoringly under her breath with a low growl, fingers stroking through your hair before she grips your locks tightly again. “you love this, don’t you? all wet and whimper-y just from the taste of me… fucking slut— ah—no one else besides me would put up with that damn mouth of yours, but you already know that. and you love being mommy’s slut, don’t you?” she all but demands an answer.

     you nod with a whine, and as if to prove yourself, you start to lap at her with as much vigor as you can muster. victoria chuckles breathlessly and barely swallows down a moan of your name, and she rocks harder against your mouth. “stick out your tongue, brat,” she hisses out the command, her voice barely above a whisper, and you obey, opening your mouth wider so victoria can use the fleshy appendage to get herself off. each pass of her hips makes your nose bump against her clit, and the congresswoman clenches her teeth.

     “vic…” you manage to hoarse out between mouthfuls—your voice trembling. victoria shushes you quietly, and murmurs her approval, knowing that you’re close just like she is. “mmn— fuck, don’t stop,” and you don’t. a couple more rolls of victoria’s hips, and her body stiffens, thighs clamping down around your head and the insides flexing as she bites down on her knuckles to prevent herself from crying out at the force of her orgasm. your own hits not long after, the movements your slick fingers, which had been furiously rubbing at your clit growing jerky. you aren’t as in control of yourself as your girlfriend, however, and are unable to stop yourself from mewling and whimpering.

     with your face still buried in her cunt, slurping up her juices and licking her clean, the sound is muffled, so victoria doesn’t feel the need to chastise you. once the brunette’s legs around your head and the grip she has on your hair relax, you pull away with a heavy pant. victoria turns her camera and microphone off, and grips you by the collar of your sweater seconds later, tugging you up into a wet and messy kiss so she can taste herself on your lips. you moan appreciatively in response, but before you have the chance to kiss back, victoria shoves you away, making your back hit the edge of her desk.

     “upstairs, now,” victoria says while she smooths herself out, talking as if you hadn’t just ate her out like a wild animal. her tone brooks no argument, the low, raspy timbre of her voice making you shudder from anticipation. “i want you naked; on your hands and knees in our bed, and your ass up. i’ll be up in ten minutes.” she then waves a somewhat shaky, dismissive hand at you, which tells you just how frazzled you’ve left her. you swallow hard and rush to do as you’re told, all but sprinting out of victoria’s home office to head to your shared bedroom. you had a feeling that the older woman wasn’t going to be as kind as she had been just now once she joins you.

     that’s fine. you’re a glutton for her punishment.