#but given that there’s the whole thing of take a bite to prove its not poison

[mistercrowbar]

happy bornt day!!! 🎁🎉 i am now imagining aldiirn with a little party hat

Imagine no longer!!! Everyone gets CAKE

Thank you everyone for the birthday well wishes! 🥳

[honey-pages]

Mine - Viktor x Reader

Description -

Viktor performs oral on virgin Reader.

1.5k words

F/M. 18+. Smut. NSFW. Oral. Virgin Reader.

��How do you know so much about everything?” You joked. 

You had not expected Viktor to take it so seriously. He seemed a little wounded. 

“Do I appear to think I know so much about everything?” He asked in response.

“I didn’t mean it like that Viktor” You explained, “I just meant that you are so intelligent and knowledgeable, sometimes I can feel a bit out of my depth.”

“Ah” He looked saddened “I had never considered that you would feel this way, you keep up with me so well”

The sight of him disheartened hurt. 

“I think it’s really attractive.” You try to reassure him, “When you know so much. It’s never a negative”

He chuckled, “You find my knowledge attractive?”

“Well, I find the whole of you attractive, but there’s something special about hearing things that you are clearly well-educated in.”

“Oh really?” He asks, “My education isn’t strictly academic you know”

Viktor looks amused, leaning forward on his elbows across the table at you. You had been flirting in his study for some time and it appeared to be coming to a natural conclusion. You were nervous though still confident in the experience being positive and what you wanted. You were very inexperienced sexually and this long period of flirtation proved enough for you to decide exactly how you wanted it. 

“Teach me” You state.

“Teach you what?” He asks with a bemused smile.

“Something non-academic”

“Anything?”

“Anything”

“Follow me to my bed, Miss (Y/N).” He invites.

Viktor’s bedroom is adjoined to his study, the two spaces linked by a door. As he stands, he reaches out a hand and you take it and follow him. His bedroom is clean, warm and dark, with a small lamp in the corner and a made bed to the right wall. Viktor closes the door behind you.

Viktor leads you to the bed and sits next to you. He turns and looks at you for a long while, examining the curves of your face and the familiar look of your skin. He is honoured you are trusting him in this way and equally excited at being in this position. He had felt romantically towards you for quite some time however was not sure you returned his feelings. Today had given him the courage to pursue them, your flirtatious conversations had become a green light encouraging him to indulge himself in your affection. 

You could see something in the way he watched you, judging and perceiving. He raised his hand to your face, his thumb swiping over your cheek and moving to grip the back of your head, playing with your hair. He pulls you in for a passionate kiss. 

“I am going to teach you” He manages, between breaths and kisses, “how my tongue feels.”

At this, Viktor increased his urgency, kissing you hungrily. He reclines you onto his bed, your head on his pillow as he lays above you, supporting his weight on his arms. He slips a knee between your thighs. 

“I will start with the basic principle” He starts, licking at your tongue gently, as if testing the temperature.

“Then maybe I will introduce some alternative methods” He continues, removing his mouth from yours to follow the curve of your jaw to your neck. When at your ear, he stops. His breath is warm and heavy, and it sends shivers through you when he speaks. His knee is pressing into you, its weight unbearable. The pressure against you was enough to make your hips move on their own, riding his thigh. 

Viktor watches you attempt to find friction, he grins, finding the sight amusing. 

“All it takes is my knee to elicit this reaction Miss (Y/N), I will make easy work of you with my mouth.”

You try to flirt back, “Viktor- “

Viktor’s knee is moving now, grinding at you relentlessly. His mouth is licking and biting at your neck, trailing to your chest. He shifts his weight to hold one of your hands, lifting it above your head and pinning it there. With his other hand, Viktor lifts your shirt, rearranging your bra to get a better view of you. 

“I am going to give you a demonstration” Viktor lowers his mouth to your breast, tilting to the side so you can view what he is doing with his tongue. Viktor licks gently at the very tip of you, then beginning to swirl his tongue around the sides, takes you into his mouth sucking with firm pressure. The feel of him and the sight of his tongue and lips on you makes you grind harder against his knee. His mouth is hot. His hand cups you and he squeezes, incorporating teeth to gently graze you. Between nips of his teeth, he rapidly flicks his tongue, continuing this with long smooth strokes. 

Viktor moves his mouth to kiss you again, he shifts down. The pressure of his knee is removed, and he shuffles towards the lower end of the bed. Kneeling, he pulls down your trousers, manoeuvring them under your hips and off down your legs. He discards them at the bottom of the bed. He lays flat on his front, face hovering just above the top of your thighs and hooks an arm under each of your legs, pulling you under his mouth. 

“Are you ready for me?” He asks.

He spreads open your legs slowly, laying them flat before him. He takes in the view, grinning happily. 

“I have often thought about this moment”

Viktor coats his fingers with his mouth, using the saliva he has already worked up. His fingers drip with it as he teases you open, sliding against your folds, holding you open and sensitive. 

“You are exactly what I imagined. No one before has had the pleasure of tasting you, have they Miss (Y/N)?”

You stumble, “No.”

“You belong beneath my tongue. You always have done.”

Viktor’s fingers circle your clit, tracing small shapes.

“Are you a virgin, Miss (Y/N)?”

You get quite nervous at the question. You were. You weren’t sure how Viktor would react. There was no reason why you though that he would react negatively, you had gathered he was experienced. If at least, more so than yourself. You had just become quite protective over it; you wanted the situation to be comfortable and equal.

“Yes.” You reply quietly.

You feel a blazing heat as Viktor closes his mouth around you, lapping with broad strokes against your clit. The inside of his mouth is wet, and you feel his saliva coat you, spreading warmth down and across your thighs. His tongue feels so smooth, he curls it and flicks it to achieve maximum sensation, and you are instantly coming undone. 

“Viktor!” You moan out.

“You moan so purely” He teases, “It is fitting that the only thing to have ever fucked you is my tongue.”

You push up and against his mouth. His words are sweet and when he speaks, your body reacts. You are desperate for him, for more of him. He thrusts his tongue inside. You instinctively wrap your hands into his hair. 

“Oh Viktor- “

He speeds up, flatly spreading his tongue between your entrance and your clit, focusing on either when reaching them. At your clit he rapidly flicks and sucks, increasing pressure and focus. 

“Just focus on the feeling, I want to hear the noises you make.”

You feel a strange rising in your core, like a building heat threatening to explode. It is raising as he quickens. Viktor is grinding into the bed, you notice it in his hips, he’s writhing. He wants you just as much as you want him. 

“You are mine” He murmurs, the words lost in the muffled sounds of the both of you. “Once I’m done having you on my face, I’ll have you on my cock.”

You are both desperate. You for release, and him for touch. 

“Viktor, Can I have- “Your words fail you.

“What do you want, Miss (Y/N)?”

“You, your cock, please- “

“Do you need it, Miss (Y/N)?” He asks, making eye contact while flicking his tongue backwards and forwards. 

“Yes Viktor, please” 

“How do you expect to take me when you haven yet experienced all that my tongue can do?”

Viktor tightens his grip and forces you down with more pressure against the muscles of his mouth. The feeling is rising again, that unfamiliar pleasure. You are near the edge you just can’t tell what that edge is, until you are spilling over it, desperately grinding over his tongue, coating his nose and chin with thick wetness.

“I’m- “You scream out.

Viktor drinks it down, swallowing you whole. He doesn’t dare move his mouth, he keeps his pace and encourages more and more from you. Your pleasure is blinding. 

“I can’t take anymore!” You moan out, trying to grip at his arms to loosen up their firm grasp on your thighs. 

“You are capable.” 

You are shuddering against him, sweating. He leaves a few little kisses over your clit before pulling away. His face is wet, his hair dishevelled. You notice the thick outline of him straining against his clothes. 

He reassures that you are comfortable before stating, “I am going to make you mine, Miss (Y/N).”

Tag List - @veru-boom, @gubkkki, @hi-hope-hop-in, @gloriousevolutionz

[hirazuki]

For Now [Chapter 16 snippet]

Sasori/Haruno Sakura, Sasori & Haruno Sakura | T | Blank Period | canon divergent | angst, hurt/comfort, enemies to friends | ongoing [AO3]

•────────────────────⋅☾ ☽⋅────────────────────•

“Oh, my.” 

Sakura's attention snaps. 

Her body whirls on its own, as though she is camped out in the wilds of Grass and a twig just broke in the darkness, because she knows that voice – its soft rasp snaked into her ears long ago and sunk its fangs into her dreams – and, more importantly, Sasori knows it too.

She’s only a split second faster than him – she’s still in active service and completely healthy and he isn’t – but that’s all she needs, because, once she grabs hold of him and it comes down to a contest of strength, she’s always had the advantage. 

Her hands close around Sasori’s forearms and she disrupts his chakra flow with her own before he can shoot any threads from his fingers, grappling him from behind and forcing him to the ground to keep him secure, safe, from both Orochimaru and himself; even as he fights back, viciously. 

“Stop,” Sakura frantically whispers, as close to his ear as she dares without risking him cracking his head back against hers. “I get it, I really do, I promise, but you need to stop.” She pins him down with a knee on his back, digging in until his torso is virtually immobile against the pavement. “You can’t attack him in the middle of the village!”��

He’s not listening at all, though. 

It’s like all of his composure, all of his apathy, all of his progress has fled in the face of this man standing before them, this rottenness and ruin given human form – and she has to bite down her panic at the familiarity of this, at the remembrance of someone else’s composure and reason falling to this very same person in another time, another place – and, it turns out, Sasori’s joints are as bendable as his puppets’; despite her strength, it’s taking all of her attention to maintain control of his hands. 

Orochimaru – for better and for worse – has not moved a single step.

“You really do see some interesting things if you live long enough,” she hears him remark, perfectly placidly, from somewhere above them.

Sasori increases his struggling at that and, between the angle that his right arm is at and Sakura’s absolute terror that she’s losing her grip on him and he’ll break away and fight and draw attention, and get hunted and captured and killed, her chakra control – always so precise, so exact, her longtime pride and crowning glory – slips, and she feels two of his fingers crunch loudly, sickeningly, under her own.

He doesn’t scream – he’s too well-trained, too war-wrought for that; he only goes still, completely still, for a single moment and that’s somehow worse.

“Get lost!” she snarls at Orochimaru, in a voice that she hasn’t used towards him since that awful day, when Sai proved to be a double agent and Naruto burned from the inside out and Sasuke-kun left again and Kakashi-sensei wasn’t there; the day she thought she’d lose her whole team, really lose them this time.

She didn’t, but she may very well be losing someone today.

Orochimaru chuckles but, thankfully, humors her – although he does make sure to pass right by them as he does so. 

“I do hope you found it well-kept for you,” he says – how can he sound so sincere? –  as he disappears into the darkness between the buildings.

There’s a shallow breath and then two and then five, and Sakura counts ten whole breaths before she very, very carefully pries herself off of Sasori, moving as though he is an explosive tag she has stepped on and set to detonate.

Free of her hands and her weight, he scrambles out from under her and doesn’t stop until he’s several feet away – shuttered, wordless, cradling his right arm to his chest.

The resulting hurt at his reaction to her is excruciating, but she reminds herself that she has no right to it. She doesn’t even know where to begin to give voice to her mortification, or her remorse. 

“I – I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, here, let me –”

Sasori levels a glare at her – of the kind that she’s seen him throw at Chiyo-baa-sama and Orochimaru, at the mention of Kabuto and, more recently, Akatsuki; the kind that’s personal, poisonous, and brimming with betrayal; the kind that she’s never seen directed at herself, before – and vanishes with a body flicker.

Sakura lets out a shaky sigh and falls back on her feet, utterly uncaring about the dirt on her expensive yukata or the mess that is her hair or even the fact that no one saw this happen, since the crowds started thinning from this particular street some time ago and she’s all alone, on the ground, on a dark, empty sidewalk under a multi-colored sky.

She only has enough in her to pick herself up and walk herself home, before collapsing in a sobbing heap as soon as the apartment door closes behind her, feeling like time has turned back and she's twelve again – small and useless and like the world is ending.

[snail-eggs]

1.1 Saturday | film

synopsis: It hurts. 2,191 days later and it still hurts. Juno Connors is haunted by the death of her best friend. Haunted by the unfinished documentary Juno refuses to let die along with him. But it has proved difficult. The subject---washed-up skating legend, Ronnie Allen; her best friend’s childhood hero who suddenly went missing sometime in the early 90s---is less than cooperative. She spends months in London trying to get him to cooperate and she gets nothing for it in return. Nothing of value, nothing to make all the dollars and time spent worth it. Until she meets a young sergeant, that is. Juno meets Sergeant Kyle “Gaz” Garrick and sets herself on a course for healing through this newfound intimacy. It makes her think that, just maybe, she can finish this fucking documentary and never have to face Ronnie Allen again.

a/n: my god, there's no way it took me a year to polish this one chapter. anyway, here it is over 365 days later.

masterlist | warnings on ao3 | read on ao3 | read on wattpad | playlist | divider by @/cafekitsune

The air in Carlsbad is different. Tinged with a saltiness from the sea that Juno can taste on her lips, the breeze at the perfect speed, perfect temperature. She knocks on the rickety old trailer’s door, wishing that she had taken a fleeting moment to film this. This beach—it's gorgeous. Tucked away into its own lonesome corner with a view to die for. Given the chance, Juno’d retire off to here too. She sighs. Bites her lip.

It shouldn’t be her that’s doing this,

She’s staring out at the waves lapping at the shore, a half step off the trailer’s poor excuse for a porch, listening to the way they crash against the rocks and land. She doesn’t deserve to be here, in his place. The door swings open with a creak so loud, she swears it's about to fall off its hinges. Actually, the hinges themselves look more ready to fall off the frame than anything. Charming, she thinks. Gives the whole thing some real character—

“You lost?” —like it needs any more. 

Before her, Ralph DiMaggio stands in all his leathery, sun bleached glory. But burgeoning against his loud button up. But he looks at her softly—kindly, cutting through the rough image she had about him entirely and she can see it in his eyes, in his slight smile with a missing canine. He looks happy. Sober. Completely unlike how Fish described him in the notes he left. Juno feels half bad for expecting to find him at the bottom of a bottle, a mess. 

 “No, you’re exactly who I’m looking for.” She finally takes that full step up to the trailer, extends her hand. He takes it. “My name is Juno Connors—you met my partner, Hayden Fisher, like around a year ago.” Eyes empty, searching for something in the recesses of his mind, Juno can tell he doesn’t remember Fish. It hurts a little. “For the Ronnie Allen doc…” Now she’s searching too— reaching , hoping that he remembers. “He was, uh, a little obsessive about wanting to… to solve Ronnie’s disappearance from, well, the public and then probably never called you back?” She’s fumbling now. Feels like a fucking idiot.

And then it clicks.

“Yeah,” he moves out of the way, gestures for her to come in, “Yeah, no, I remember him, Kid was a lot.”

Juno laughs—well, breathes out a laugh more so than actually laughing. He’s right, he was a lot. Too much, even. She gets it, really, she does. No one could ever entirely stomach him quite like her. Supposes she’s just adept at tolerating the intolerable.

“Why didn’t he ever call back?”

“Thing is, he was going to but he died back in March, so.”

“I’m sorry.”

She gives a shrug that feels all sorts of wrong. “Yeah,”

Reaching into her bag, she flashes him a tight-lipped smile. Her way of saying It’s okay because she doesn’t really know how else to without making it worse, the awkwardness, or sounding like more of an idiot than she already does. Because she’s faced it now: Juno’s blowing this interview and it hasn’t even started. This isn’t her beat, isn’t what she does. No, her job was to sit there and point the camera at someone while Fish did all the heavy lifting. All the talking, But Fish is gone now and there’s still lifting to be done.

The lavalier mic is heavy in her hand, heavier than she knows it really is. She gestures vaguely with it. “I’m here now. For that interview—only if you want to, obviously.”

“Gotta be a little more assertive than that, Junie. A lot more.” He says suddenly like he’s known her forever. Her brows furrow. “Be a bitch, it's the only way you’ll get what you want from old pieces of shit like me.” Ralph eases himself into a chair that groans under his weight, points his finger at her. “That’s a fact.”

“If that’s the case, is this old piece of shit gonna give me what I want or did I drive all the way down here for you to waste my time?” Juno cocks her head to the side. If assertive is what he wants, it's assertive that he’ll get.

Ralph spreads his arms out, smiles wide—proud—missing tooth and all. “Mic me, Junie.” She can’t help it, she smiles too.

And she does—has him clip the recorder to his waistband right on the small of his back as she loops the microphone on its wire wire through the inside of his shirt shirt and settles it on the collar. The camera comes to her like second nature; the setting up of it is a process that doesn’t take all that much thought. Ralph watches her and she doesn’t give him so much as a glance. In her periphery, he’s merely a skin colored blob. She pretends it's Fish sitting there instead as she screws the camera onto the tripod as tight as it goes. It's locked. Ralph shifts around in his seat like he’s never been interviewed before. Juno suddenly realizes that it's probably been forever since the last time. Makes her feel a little better about her uselessness. 

The journal is the last piece. One she has to cross the room for—left it on Ralph’s kitchen counter before she mic’d him—her strides and the weight of her warping the vinyl flooring. It burns her hands when she grabs it. Impossible, she knows, but it burns them. With grief, with the corrosive acidity of expectations not met and even worse, expectations she’s not sure she can meet at all.

But she has to try, that’s what this is all about. She looks back at Ralph. Relaxes her shoulders.

“So, what do you know about Ronnie Allen?”

He nearly hits her twice.

Wild, drunk hands wave around mere inches from her camera. From her face. Juno is sick of looking at him. At that ugly mug of his, at the tattoos that have bled deep into every wrinkle and crevice of it. Like runny ink on shitty paper. She looks at him with loathing. Juno’s sick of London now too. She sets her camera on the bar, takes a lazy sip of her beer, and just looks at him. He’s all washed-up. Fucking pathetic now. He’s nothing. He stares back at Juno, like maybe she’s a little off, when she sets down the camera. His wild hands fall into his lap, his story stops.

The rim of the bottle is still at her lips, “Ron, that’s not what I asked you.” 

“What?”

“I didn’t ask you about the fucking glory days,” she’s heard enough about the glory days to last a lifetime, “I asked you about what happened after.”

He squeezes his eyes shut real tight, “After?” How he manages to slur just a single word so monumentally, Juno doesn’t know.

“Yeah, Ronnie, after .” It’s still not clicking. “Jesus, Ron—I asked about Merced.” The location rolls off her tongue but it's Ronnie’s face that twists into one of disgust. She can’t seem to break him. It feels like pulling teeth, trying to get him to talk about Merced.

She doesn’t want to feel this way. Not tonight.

Juno’s sick of it all. The poking, the prodding, when she knows—deep down inside, she knows —that he won’t talk. He’s a stubborn old fuck. Ronnie will keep her in the dark until she gives up because that’s exactly what he wants. He wants her to run home with her tail between her legs but she won’t. She cannot and will not let Fish’s life’s work collapse in on itself over a lousy drunk. She doesn’t care that the drunk in question was his hero once upon a time. He’s nothing to her and nothing he’ll stay if he can’t give her what she fucking needs.

It’s been six years that she’s wasted on this. What’s six more?

“You’re still chasin’ this shit,” 

“Trust me, I’m not happy about it either.” Juno doesn’t like the way her voice sounds. It’s quiet, comes from deep in her throat, all tired and flat. This isn’t her. But maybe it is now. After Fish, after all this mess, maybe this is who she is. 

Fingers twitching around the neck of her bottle, gripping it just a little too tight, Juno looks out over Ronnie’s shoulder. Out at the other patrons of the bar that are surely having a far better night than she is. And then she feels it. The burning of eyes fixated on her. Juno’s own scan the crowd again more carefully now.

“When’re you just gonna quit?” She doesn’t hear it, not really. All her attention’s focused on the other lonely soul across the bar. The bill of his cap casts a shadow over his eyes but Juno knows, without a doubt that he’s looking at her. Staring. So she stares back. Narrows her eyes a little—hoping that if she squints hard enough, she can bend all laws of reality and really see him. 

But she can’t. So she inches away from the bar, breaks his gaze for just a second to tell Ronnie plainly, and maybe even a little too loudly that “If anything happens to this camera, I’m never leaving you alone, got it?” And he shrugs. Waves it off like he does with everything else that she says. But he reaches his arm out to where Juno was sitting. Lazily slides the camera into his chest like he’s protecting it in his own half-assed way. Juno doesn’t hover.

Stands of fading blue fall into her face as she wades through the crowd that feels like its only getting denser by the second. She doesn’t bother to tuck them out of the way. Just keeps making her way through. When the crowd breaks, the air feels lighter, cooler; her lungs have room to expand. 

And, finally, she can see the eyes that gazed upon her from across the bar.

“You have a staring problem,” there’s a grin there. The most genuine one that’s graced her face in, hell, six years, probably. 

“You came all this way to tell me that?”

She shrugs, “And a couple other things.” Juno sits down right across from him. Feels kind of giddy talking to someone new, kiddy like knowing without any real proof that you’ve met someone good. Someone solid. “So, do you always look at random women like that or should I feel special?”

He, whoever he is, smirks a little. Juno can tell he’s trying to fight it but it comes through anyway. “Like what?” He's handsome. Soft behind the eyes. 

“Y’know,” she leans into the table, smile reaching her eyes now despite the subtleness of it. “Like there’s no one else here but me. Like I’m the only one worth talking to—and I am, by the way. I am so worth talking to.”

“Can’t have much of a conversation if I don’t even know your name.”

“Well, who said that?”

Words catch in his throat a little and Juno smirks. Bottom lip caught in her teeth. Just tell me your name.”

“Juno.” Said so quick she’s barely even sure he heard it.

“Like the movie?”

She gives him a look. It’s a yes and no answer—more no than yes. “Just the way it’s spelled. They named me after the place in Alaska, just wanted to feel special, I guess.”

“It suits you,” they haven’t broken each other’s gaze. Not once and Juno feels like she’s drowning in the particular shade of brown of his irises.

“I’d hope so, it’s the only name I got.” There’s more of a twang there than she’d like. She wonders if he’d be able to place it, her accent. Knows there’s no way in hell she could place his no matter how hard she tried. “What about you; what’d you get saddled with?”

“Kyle,” Juno nods. Her own silent way of telling him that she thinks his name suits him too. “Most people call me Gaz, though.”

“Why?”

“Haven’t got a clue.” He takes a sip from his glass. Juno wants to reach out and grab it. Take a sip from it too. The impulse is so strong and she’s not entirely sure why. Maybe it's one of those weird intrusive things. Or maybe, it's her desire for closeness that hasn’t been sated in years. Hell, she can’t remember the last time she hugged somebody—really hugged somebody; fingers gripping at clothes, digging into skin, a mouthful of hair. All that. The closest she’s gotten is hauling Ronnie into bed when he’s too wasted to do it himself. And sometimes she lingers. Lets him keep his grip on her wrist while he begs her for a glass of water. She supposes that she likes the warmth.

Oftentimes, she wonders what it’s like to be held. In all honesty, Juno’s forgotten it and so now she looks at Gaz, a stranger she’s shared but a handful of words with, and—more than anything—just wants a hug. Is that so much to ask for; to be held for even a fraction of a second?

She needs to go home, she thinks. Desperation’s not all that good of a look on her. 

Gaz’s eyes narrow in on her in a way she can’t quite read. The feeling of his gaze is sharper. Precise. Juno feels naked. Feels like he can read her mind. But it softens and suddenly she can breathe. He nods at her, lowers his glass. “What’s that about?”

And her brows furrow before he points at her shirt. Juno looks down. Lindsay Lohan’s mugshot is decorating her torso and she breathes out a laugh. He laughs with her.

“What, you don’t like it?” She teases.

“Never said that .”

“You could wear it if you want—actually, we might be the same size.”

“Yeah?” Juno nods when he says it, smiling so wide that her cheeks are starting to hurt. “I mean, we could test out that theory.”

The chatter from the crowd behind her is getting louder. Bar stools scrape against the ground with an ear shattering screech. Juno shrugs, smirking a little, “I’m down if you are.”

Then, a resounding crack. 

Juno and Gaz both whip their heads in the direction of the bar. Juno’s mouth gapes as she watches the bartender clutch his nose. Sees the blood on Ronnie’s fist. Her heart pounds. He can’t get can’t get caught up like this, he can’t afford it— she can’t afford it. Juno lurches from her chair, toppling it over as Gaz calls her name. She shoves and elbows her way through the crowd now surrounding Ronnie and grabs him roughly by the arm. Drags him with all her might and it doesn’t take much. He’s already long gone—the lights are on and no one’s home. So he stumbles on after her.

Juno doesn’t even get to spare Gaz a glance as she and Ronnie barrel through the door.

The mini-bar in this hotel is piss-poor, Juno thinks as she lines up the third tiny bottle of vodka on the windowsill. Really. She’s had better liquor from forgotten bottles in the back of Ronnie’s cabinets. Maybe he just has better taste than the hotel staff. Juno doesn’t really care either way. Her night’s over before it even started and she wishes she’d gone home with Gaz. He was cute, nice enough. Would’ve been a fun time, she bets, but instead she’s stuck here in her room emptying the mini-bar and wondering if this is just some ugly habit she picked up from six years and counting with Ronnie. Day in and day out. She grimaces. Takes another tiny bottle and sits on the bed.

She’s got more notes for this documentary than Fish ever had. It gives her a pang in the chest, the thought. Makes her eyes water. She breaks the seal on the bottle. The transcript for Ralph’s interview haunts her on her desktop, among others. Juno goes for her browser instead. Her fingers work quicker than her mind—she’s looking at departing flights before she knows it.

There’s a few she can catch before Ronnie wakes up in the morning and calls her asking why his knuckles are all bloody.

It isn’t the first time that she’s thought maybe she’s gotten all that she ever will out of him. Even figured out how to wrap this doc up in a pretty little bow without knowing shit about the why of it all. Ronnie Allen, ex skating legend, is a good for nothing drunk that fell into obscurity because he felt like it. There is no real reason, no meaningful moment that made him run from everything he had. He’s a good for nothing dunk that abandoned everyone he knew and seems to feel just fine about it. Sure, it’s bleak but people’d eat that shit up. She knows she would.

Fish wouldn’t, though.

He always wanted to look deeper than the other documentarians, it’s why he started this one. He’d lose his mind if he found out she ditched it before seeing it through completely.

Juno downs the fourth bottle in one go. Her throat burns.

When she wakes, there’s hair all in her mouth. The room smells overwhelmingly like Fish’s living room. Juno buries her head in the sheets and refuses to breathe.

[there-must-be-a-lock]

BuckyJay recs

I have been hammering away at my keyboard like a crazy person working on the If It's A Highway sequel, which obviously has given me the urge to read more BuckyJay, and there is still just... a distressingly small amount of that in the world.

here, have a few of my recent favorites:

To Dig a Grave in Winter by @oliocelottafanfics - just read this one tonight and its criminal lack of hits inspired this list tbh. fucking gorgeously written. GORGEOUS. please go give it some love.

They echo in him, punctuated by the smell of rain and fresh turned earth and the phantom pain of something heavy against his skull. He feels like a walking gravesite. They must see it too. They sneer at him when they call him to the chair after each mission. He doesn’t know why, doesn’t understand when one of them says, “Let’s see if you come back this time.” He feels his heart flutter to a stop as the machine drags away what little of his consciousness remains. When he opens his eyes again, he hardly remembers dying.

First Glance by @drgrlfriend - this is WinterHawkHood-flavored, which is a whole other rec list, but it starts as just the Winter and Hood part, so I'm counting it. Dr. G has never written anything that I didn't absolutely love, she's crazy talented, but there is something special about her shamelessly bloodthirsty Jason.

Jason grins, sharp and feral.  “Human traffickers, baby.  Looking for someone young and pretty to round out their next shipment.  We know where they’re gonna hit tonight and SHIELD’s already nabbed the buyers, so we don’t even need to leave anyone alive once we locate the rest of the merchandise.” And, yeah, there’s a lot of things about the job that Jason likes, but this scenario is pretty much custom made for him.  He seems to get a very specific sort of satisfaction from playing all dewy-eyed and vulnerable, letting the bad guys think they have the upper hand, and then raining deadly fury down on their heads.  Well, Bucky thinks philosophically, everyone needs a hobby. “It’ll practically be a vacation,” Jason purrs, and Bucky takes his hand off the gearshift to give his thigh a pat in agreement.  It’s important to support your partner’s interests.

prove you're not a loser (anymore) by @capriciouswrites - most of this fic is funny as fuck, featuring a spectacularly grumpy Bruce and an adorably thirsty Clint, but it starts with this absolute fuckin banger of an opening, from which I may never recover:

Someone’s hand comes near his mouth to try to force it open and he’s always been willing to be a rabid dog — they're trying to make him into a lap dog after all, he might as well make sure they know that his pedigree is alley — so he bites down and fills his mouth with blood before they manage to get the mouth guard in — and then he’s really stuck like he knew he would be. He knew they’d win and strap him down and try to kill him in the only way that matters.  What is a man, after all, he thinks, but memory trapped in meat. And soon he’ll be just the meat without the memory. His philosophizing is cut short by a sharp jolt of electricity — and then he’s trying to breathe and scream and he’s trapped and — if he could still think he’d consider that maybe this is worse than last time, but he can’t so he doesn’t. 

who do I have to bribe to get more of this pairing in my life?!

[nomsfaultau]

SBI Whumptober Prompt 1

bruises//scars//”that’s going to leave a mark”...Bonus 25) Field Medicine and 10) Guilt. But the AU is called Fault so there will ALWAYS be guilt. 

Disclaimer: this blurb is set in the SCP SBI AU I have called Fault, specifically within Part 2. Explanation of AU; tldr. 

The Blade had always said scars were badges of honor. The mark of survival, of victory. And that was fine and all, but a boarish brute like him didn’t even have the option of slinking into human society, could never feel the scathing eyes of strangers raking through every wound. That pounding instinct that Wilbur was a poor mimic and at any moment the human crowd would pounce upon the intruder in their midst. 

Philza never said anything about scars, but then again he never had any injuries. Not permanent ones, anyway. He didn’t have to deal with the tightness where skin stretched, the way it ached in the cold. Presumably if asked, Philza would give some grating advice about taking care of himself and knowing when to ask for help. Nothing to be ashamed of, mate, just proof you survived! As if they shouldn’t have had to just barely survive in the first place.  

And Wilbur…well. He just called them one more thing to deal with. His skin was a patchwork of such things dealt with. His was an existence pockmarked by eruptions of violence, the evidence carved well into his skin. The humans had left their fair share of agony across Wilbur, the Foundation tenacious in its hunt. Beyond that, the territory the void had marked upon the vessel that composed his body. The gouges slashed into his back, the bite marks mangling his shoulder, the indecipherable mess of damage trailing up to where the abyss clawed itself out of his skull. For all that he only had half a face, the void sure did its best to ruin what little ‘human’ visage he had left. Pieces of himself destroyed by the abyss, either stolen or given. Wilbur wasn’t unfamiliar with selling his body, each chunk a small sacrifice for whatever bargain he needed to make so that the whole of him would survive. Or, what was left of it. 

He’d earned every scar for his weakness, either the price for failing to dodge an attack or the cost of amassing ephemeral power. And Wilbur was used to that. Sacrifice was life, or his at the very least. It wasn’t an existence he wished on anyone, let alone someone he cared about.

And for all that he was a World Eater, what was a lot harder to choke down was the damage littering Tommy. Sure, after a year in the Foundation there were bound to be lasting reminders of that hellish place, but something in Wilbur’s head refused to let go of that idealized version of Tommy. The kid was supposed to be the normal one, with a loving family and a place among the humans. Bright-eyed and excited and blissfully unaware of how cruel the world could be. And surely that child had shattered long ago, but Wilbur needed him to be real, if only for that hope he’d long since abandoned. That little fantasy where someone like him could be free and happy and safe. 

The recent Foundation ambush proved that was never going to happen. No matter how hard they fought to escape, the humans were unrelenting in their pursuit. Sure the anomalies fended them off this time, but what about the time after that? Or after that? Each time battered a little more, broken a little further. 

Wilbur slipped on sturdy gloves and peeled Tommy out of his jacket, cautious of being contaminated by the boy’s anomalous Red. The liquid curled around him anxiously, fear lingering from the attack. One drop and Wilbur would be reduced to the murderous monster humanity thought he was.

But Tommy needed help and Wilbur was the only one with half decent knowledge on how to patch up a humanoid. Not that Philza wasn’t incredibly learned, but there was always the off chance the immortal would suggest leeches. So Wilbur helped Tommy squirm out of his contaminated shirt, pausing as he got a good look at the ugly mixture of mottled bruises and mutilated scars on the boy’s back.

We ruined this kid, he thought quietly.

Most of the scars were silvery slices of surgical precision from the Foundation doctors trying to find out what made the monsters tick. And, sure, Wilbur had those too. But there were a handful of other ones, imprecise, ugly maroons, skin scrunched and coarse. Signs of abuse and battles. Wilbur had those too, far more. Sometimes he thought his skin was mere echoes of damage. He’d gathered them over a lifetime, though. Tommy wasn’t close to catching up, but he’d made great strides in a single year, and it would only grow worse.

Wilbur did his best to ignore the scars, working on tending to the recent bruises. He’d never had time to explore it before, and he didn’t want to be invasive. He’d known they’d be there, knew he needed to focus on the present. The small things were easy to overlook, the too-straight cut lines and the biopsies and the general abuse that had gone too far. The friction burns around his wrists that mimicked the chaffing around Wilbur’s throat. Their mirrored set of y-incisions. Little details from where doctors tried to unravel them to find out what made the anomalies tick. 

Recent fingerprints bruised into Tommy’s skin from where they’d tried to grab his little brother and take him. So many things had been stolen from Wilbur, sleep and time and peace. But he refused to ever lose Tommy again. 

He drew as close as he dared to a particularly large contusion clipping the edge of Tommy’s ribs, trying to discern if there could be fractures. His breathing was pained, but that really didn’t narrow anything down. Cautiously, Wilbur prodded the area. There wasn’t a crunching sound at least. Tommy’s breath hitched as the cold compress pressed against the contusions, the Red dancing along his arms rising with the pain. 

Still, for all the ache each prod must bring to his battered body, Tommy pressed into each touch. For all the times Tommy reached for him only to flinch away at the last second, Wilbur cursed the universe. How could it possibly be fair the only times he ever held his brother was when he was bruised and bleeding? He knew it wasn’t worth the risk but still the injustice coiled in his gut. Wilbur bandaged the last of the scrapes, and before he could stop himself he ran his fingers through Tommy’s hair. He couldn’t feel it through the thick gloves, but Tommy melted all the same, sinking into the touch. 

And with it sunk the Red as he began to feel safe…revealing a dark blotch of crimson no longer hidden by the anomalous power. 

Wilbur winced as he discovered the fresh wound. It was small but deep, burrowed into Tommy’s upper arm. Jagged, from where the barb was ripped out mid fight. Recognizing it at once, Wilbur searched the boy for a twin wound. Luckily, it seemed the second taser barb missed. Good, Tommy didn’t need to know what that kind of voltage tasted like. 

There wasn’t much Wilbur could do beyond disinfection and a bandage. Really, he’d doomed Tommy to the life of getting hunted down like an animal, and that was the best he could do? Fail to protect him and just watch as another scar got added to his growing collection? 

“That’s going to leave a mark,” Wilbur apologized, as if that could ever make up for the irrevocable mark Wilbur left on Tommy’s life. 

[shatteredvioletnuzlocke]

Chapter 5: Mezagoza (Patch)

Not too far away from Arven’s lighthouse, was the tranquil village of Los Platos. Palm trees touched the sky, children ran down the amber, brick-paved roads, and Vivilion fluttered to bushes with fragrant flowers. After the hectic day they’ve been having, Patch and Nemona decided to grab a treat at the local Sugar-N-Ice cart. Patch went with a classic, mint chocolate chip. While the champion fancied a fruity mango cone.

Once the two paid for their food, Patch began to lick their ice cream. The sweet sensation of peppermint cooled them off and sent a tickling chill to their head.

Patch spotted two young children having a Pokémon battle; it was a Scatterbug against a Bountsweet. The silkworm released threads of string shot, but the Bounsweet countered with a rapid spin attack. Yet it proved to be useless as the fruit Pokémon’s twirling only managed to wrap itself in a ball of silk. 

“Use bug bite!” the Scatterbug’s trainer cheered.

As the Scatterbug tore away at the cocoon it made, a memory snuck into Patch’s mind. Violence doesn’t solve anything as much as you think it does, Arven’s voice echoed. Patch began to fear for the Bountsweet. Once the Scatterbug chewed through its silk, would it also gnaw away at the Bountsweet’s flesh? Just thinking about it horrified them, and they felt the need to step in before it got gruesome.

“Wow, I’ve never seen a Scatterbug with that tenacity!” Nemona chimed in, feeling casual about the whole ordeal.

“I don’t get how this can be fun to watch,” Patch passively confessed, “they could get hurt.”

The champion gave them an encouraging look, “I get you're still trying to figure out what you want to do as a trainer, but you have to understand…battling is kinda natural for Pokémon.”

“What do you mean?” Patch asked.

“Pokemon fight with each other all the time in the wild and some Pokemon are bred just to fight. If you deprive them of that, they get wound up and testy,” Nemona explained.

The new trainer found some fair reasoning in the Champion’s knowledge; it did seem somewhat cruel to keep nature from taking its course. Yet there was still a tinge of doubt that they couldn’t shake off.

“I get that…” they nodded, “but would that put them at a greater risk of getting killed?”

Given such a heavy question Nemona took a moment to scarf down their cone. Finally, after that she responded.

“Oh, the league would never allow that… There are special rules to prevent those kinds of things. So a Pokémon can only lose battle unless they get exhausted.”

Patch was surprised, the Pokemon battling was more thought out than they realized. 

“Of course,” she went on, “Pokemon still need to be taken to centers after a fight. And we can’t prevent a Pokemon from dying in the wild, it’s only for general trainer and gym battles.”

Patch felt thrown back into their obsessive thoughts. So gym battles are safer than the wild…crazy. I don’t know if this makes me more comfortable to battle. I’m being more careful when I catch Pokemon. But… What happens if I don’t let them battle at all? Will they hate me? And what about Kapheria? Arven already told me not to make her fight… 

“Yo, earth to Patch?!” Nemona waved her hand in front of the dazed trainer. 

They snapped back into reality “Oh, sorry!” 

“Come with me,” she giggled, “I wanna show you something!” 

They threw away their now melted cone, being too distracted to finish it. They followed Nemona down the path, occasionally licking the peppermint-flavored stickiness off their hand.The two trainers walked to what seemed to be a gas station located in a village with no cars. A bright red sign with a Pokeball symbol spun slowly from a pole. The gas station’s anning had the same color scheme as the sign, underneath stood a woman dressed in a medical outfit and a man dressed in an apron. There were no gas pumps or enough space for a car to drive in.

“What are we doing here?” Patch looked around confused.

“This is the Pokémon center!” The black-haired trainer smiled.

This?! This can’t be! Patch was familiar with Pokemon centers, the one back in Nacrene was at least an entire building. This station was out in the open with only a desk. How would anyone get treatment like this?!

“Do you need a quick fix?” The nurse kindly asked.

They weren’t sure what to say, but they felt curious as to how it worked. “Sure,” they answered.

Patch went into their polyester bag and scooped up Tamarind and Kombucha’s Pokeballs. They handed the Pokeballs to the nurse who locked them into some type of machine. The chattering typing of a keyboard could be heard, as the nurse clacked at a console in front of her. 

“Here you are, all healed up!” The nurse claimed.

In awe Patch took the two Pokeballs, It’s that easy?! 

“Over here!” Nemona called to them, standing near yet another weird machine. It resembled some kind of fancy vending machine. 

“What does it do?” Patch wondered. 

“Put one of your Pokemon here, and find out!” She playfully suggested.

There was a circular slot intended for a Pokeball and a crevasse breath that looked like it would dispense something. Being particularly curious about this high-tech center, Patch inserted Tamarind’s Pokeball. Above the slot, a screen read: Fuecoco. 

“Alright, now what?” The brown-haired trainer turned to find Nemona looking through her bag.

She pulled out three CDs in cases, “Pick one,” she said, holding them out like folded cards.

Patch confoundedly grabbed the case in the middle and found that it had a pink disk inside. So I must have to slide this in? They took out the disc, holding it from the sides to avoid smudging it with fingerprints. Upon sliding the screen went into a loading menu, and then displayed a green check mark. This still doesn’t make sense to me. The confused trainer let Tamarind out of his ball. 

“Tamarind?” Patch knelt to the fire croc, “Do you feel okay?”

The Fuecoco’s cheeks were puffed out and his eyes were pressed closed, he looked constipated. The trainer began to fret, their fire type was about to burst.

“Fuey!” Tamarind wailed in a honeyed pitch. Instead of fire the crocodile produced visual, pink sound waves shaped like hearts.

“Nice,” Nemona said, “That disarming voice will for sure come in handy!” 

Patch recognized that disarming voice was the name of a fairy-type attack. It then began to click, that machine teaches Pokemon different moves! It was all so astounding, Paldean technology was truly unlike anything they had ever seen! 

“Here,” the champion handed them a golden brown colored disc, “Teach this to your Lechonk!”

They inserted Kombucha’s Pokeball into the tutoring machines and slid in the disc, “What’s that one for?”

“Mud slap!” Nemona grinned, “Great for lowering accuracy!” 

Patch hadn’t a clue of what that meant but they trusted her judgment.

“You can have some of my extras,” she offered them some more discs, “then if you want different attacks, the TMM will make you new ones from ingredients.” 

“Really?” Patch asked intrigued.

The champion nodded and pointed to the machine, “I made this one with Wooper slime!”

“Oh cool…” they faked a smile. What the hell?

As soon as the move was learned, Patch placed Kombucha’s ball back into their pocket. But they became fixated on the prairie near the center. It was wide open with plenty of space and small sky blue pools where golden Psyducks waddled to go swim. Two Skovets scampered around the pale green grass, as an Azurill bounded along on it’s tail. The enchanting feeling of nature was seemingly inviting the trainer to visit.

“You can go on and catch something, I’ll just be awhile” Nemona reassured them, “but once your done, then we really have to head out.”

Patch squinted towards the sun, now bending to the east. Damn all that took up a good portion! 

They picked up Tamarind, “I won’t be long!”

With their fire croc in their arms, Patch jogged along the grass scanning the area for their next teammate. Compared to Poco Path, the land had more to offer. A small, pink Happiny totaled about in a bed of mauve pyrenees. Next to her a little, plump Fidough began digging a hole. So cute! 

Patch’s family had a pet Fidough back home named Piper. While tempted into approaching it they didn’t want Piper to feel replaced; there was only one Fidough in their life and that was enough. What else is there? 

All the more curious, the young trainer wandered towards a grove of shady trees. The sun was completely obscured beneath the trees' canopy, giving off a cool temperature. The only light seeping through, was the Fuecoco’s flickering tuft.

“Fuey…” Tamarind yawned.

“Don’t sleep now, buddy. We’re almost to the academy,” Patch whispered.

From the dim glow of the crocodile, they noticed loose strands of silk hanging off the branches. There are bug Pokémon nearby! Hopefully it’s just Scatterbug this time! They held Tamarind tightly in their arms, hoping that his warmth would protect them. 

But then they spotted odd placements of color along the grayish bark; blotches of blue, yellow, and red. Painted bark… Patch recognized with a growing smile, my next catch is here! They followed the pattern trees with eager footsteps. 

“Shoo shroo!” A high voice squeaked. 

Underneath the trunk of a blank tree a small gray rodent with a black face peaked out of the grass. 

“Shroodle!” Patch softly squealed. 

Shroodles were one of Patch’s favorite of the native Paldean Pokemon, because they shared an artistic soul. When studying Paldean fauna, they learned that Shroodles could produce ink-like bile that was used in the most expensive paints.

“Shroo?” The Shroodle gazed its huge cyan eyes at the human.

Oh gosh it sees me! Should I attack it? I don’t wanna hurt the little guy! The shrew padded closer to the human. How can I tell if it’s friendly? The Shroodle stood on its hind legs, sniffing Patch with its bulbous snout. Wittle man, they pouted, what if…

Patch plopped their bag to the ground, keeping Tamarind in one arm to keep him from getting loose. They placed an empty Pokeball beside the Shroodle, as it was bigger than the rodent and Patch was worried they would bonk them. 

“Shroo?” The Shroodle sniffed and nudged the ball, “Shroo!” 

The Pokeball rolled and the Shroodle played with it like a toy. Not my idea, but okay! 

“Shroo, Shroo!” The Shroodle scampered.

When the little Pokemon pressed the button, Pokeball opened and it was instantly sucked in. It bobbed for a moment but then clicked, indicating a capture.

“I CAUGHT A SHROODLE!” Patch hollered.

Their excitement was so loud that Fletchlings began to flutter out of the trees, screeching with distress. 

“Coco!” Tamarind wiggled his feet as he began to slip from his trainer.

Patch put down the croc, as their arms were getting tired from holding him for so long. They ran back to the Pokémon center, they’re hands flapping with giddy. Back at the center, Nemona was busy with the TMM with Fuerte and Pierce beside her. 

“Back already?” Nemona asked. 

Patch stopped to catch their breath, “Look… what I caught!”

They opened the Pokeball and held out their sweaty palm where their new Shroodle materialized. 

“Shroodle!” He peeped.

“You caught… a Shroodle?” She cringed. 

Patch’s purple eyes dilated, “His name is Arturo and I love him!”

Arturo seemed like a handsome name for a handsome lad. Now that they caught him, Patch could use his ink to make all the good paint they want. No more cheap acrylics that would dissolve into a clear solution! 

“Okay… cool,” The black-haired trainer gave a thumbs up, “Now, let’s get going! We’re nearing sunset!”

The two trainers made their way down a dusty path that split the prairie down the middle. Upon the top of the hill a massive cobblestone wall stood taller than the palm trees in Los Platos. It spread far beside the prairie, seemingly never-ending, but Patch knew behind the wall sat the City of Mezagoza; but more importantly the campus of Uva Academy. 

“Why does Mezagoza need those walls anyway?” They speculated, “Is it to keep out stronger Pokémon?”

“Not at all,” Nemona answered, “They were built by the old king centuries ago.”

Patch recalled very little about Paldean history, to their knowledge the region only ever had one king; not that Paldea ever needed one to begin with. A large mahogany wooden door awaited them and what appeared to be two sentry guards at the entrance. Both were wearing the same entire; white helmets with purple stripes and oddly enough Uva Academy uniforms. I guess they're on their way to campus too? Yet the other students sat lazily and ill-mannered in front of the gate as if to guard it

“Oh hear we go…,” Nemona sighed.

 So they know each other, Patch thought. 

The taller of the two students stood up, “Ay, you heading into Meza?” They tapped their boot against the dust impatiently.

“Yes…” Nemona gently pushed Patch aside, “And since when does the city have a toll booth?” 

The other student with dark hair flinched, while the first one faced the champion confidently. Whoever these two people were, Nemona had beef with them.

“You have two options…” the proud student offered, “Either battle us or j-”

“Diego, you idiot!” The shorter student muttered behind her clenched teeth, “That’s Nemona! Champion ranked trainer?!” 

Diego’s brown eyes widened and his smile quickly disappeared upon hearing the word “champion”. “Oh shh! Uh actually I just remembered I have somewhere to be!” His accent fluctuated under pressure.

“No no,” The champion refused, “I wouldn’t mind a battle.” 

By then the dark-haired student had fled the scene, it was just Diego trembling in his combat boots. Nemona’s tangerine eyes were burning not out of rage but with passion, she would never pass up a good fight. 

“Shall we?” She said tossing a pokeball in their hands.

Sweat was streaming down Diego’s quivering face, “Okay” he winced.

Patch gazed up at the sun, the blue sky beginning to turn warm from the east. Battling came first apparently, and who were they to tell Nemona no. A gentle tailwind came through as the battle began, Diego threw a pokeball with green stripes into the frey and out came Grimer. It’s purple sludgy, drippy body flowing to the ground, carrying a putrid musk that nearly made Patch’s eyes water. That smells worse than my Lechonk! Surprisingly, when Nemona sent out her Pokeball it held a tiny orange rodent. 

A Pawmi, they thought puzzled, why not just send in Pierce? It would make things go much faster. Strange choice aside, Nemona was a champion for a reason.

“Punchy, Charge up!” She commanded.

Electricty began to accumulate around the little Pawmi, yet the Grimer remained unharmed. Nemona… what are you doing?

“Gumbo, use mud slap!” Diego called.

“Gruhhh!” The Grimer belched out drops of black sludge from its gaping mouth.

“Dodge with a quick attack!” Nemona pressed forward. 

Her Pawmi suddenly jolted from the incoming mud slap. Although they weren’t  completely unscathed, as the backside of their orange fur was stained with black. 

“Charge once more!” The Champion retorted.

Nemona quit stalling, Patch’s anxiety became restless, Just hit him with something! With each new charge the Pawmi’s fur became a little more golden with electricity. But before both of them knew it, the Grimer took advantage of Nemona’s passive position and engulfed Punchy in it’s oozing body. Oh no! Patch panicked at the Pawmi drowning in sludge, Why are you letting this happen?! 

“Come now,” Nemona reached into her pocket, “Don’t think you’re winning?!”

In her hand, she held some kind of deep black Pokeball with a jewel-encrusted where the button would be. Patch assumed she would be sending in a much stronger Pokemon but the black Pokeball seemed to be gathering particles of light. Did that mean whatever Pokemon was inside was strong, they had never seen anything like it. Mysteriously it emitted a dazzling light, then Nemona threw it at her Pawmi.

It then dawned on Patch that it was something familiar, That’s a Terastlizing Pokeball! I’d never thought I’d see it this soon. As Pokeball opened, odd crystalline rocks pierced out of the Grimer’s body which nearly split it apart. The slimy Pokemon pulled itself away from the cluster which then shattered. In its place, Punchy stood with a shiny coat faceted like a gemstone. He wore a crystal crown resembling a lightbulb, signifying that he was an electric type. 

Patch was dazzled by the beauty of it all, Amazing! I wonder if I could ever do that?!

“Now Thundershock!” Nemona cheered. 

“Paw paw!” Punchy cried, unleashing a dazzling jolt of electricity.

The Grimer’s arms flailed about as it was hit and it let out an agonizing wail, “GRUUUUUHHHHHHH!”  

Diego quickly recalled his Grimer, his brown eyes shaken with fear. 

“Get out of here!” Nemona calmly murmured to her defeated opponent.

Diego ran off almost immediately, leaving the gate to Mezagoza completely unguarded and free to enter through. 

“Mui bein, Punchy!” Nemona congratulated her Pokemon.

A glimmering dust surrounded Punchy, and within a blink of an eye, his crystalline coat was back to normal. The Pawmi was just a bit bigger than Arturo but still able to fit in his trainer’s palm. 

“If you ever see anyone with similar helmets on, don’t talk to them! They’re with Team Star!” The champion informed Patch.

“Team Star?” Patch asked.

The name of it struck accord with a similar group back in Unova; Team Plasma. It gave Patch unpleasant thoughts, Plasma had nearly swayed the people of Unova to join their cause of giving up their Pokemon. During that period Patch was too young to understand what had transpired, but they were now old enough to look back on it in horror. If Plasma had succeeded, would they even be a trainer now?

“Did they want something from us?” Patch swallowed their bad memories.

“Maybe, but they just want new members,” Nemona answered with her Pawmi on her shoulder, “It’s kinda sad though, people who flunk out of the Academy go on to join them. Some of them even play dirty and disregard the League’s rules.”

An alarm was set off in the young trainer’s head, Disregarding the Rules?! Does that mean they’ll kill my Pokemon?! Would they kill me?! No matter what it meant they were thankful for Nemona protecting them from harm’s way. Yet, Patch couldn’t make up a plan if they ran into a Star member in the future. Would they be forced into battling? Could they just say they knew a Champion to get out of it? Maybe… battling another trainer was just as inevitable as losing a Pokemon.

“Anywho…” Nemona looked toward the sun, “If we keep stalling you might not be able to check in to your dorm room.”

The blue sky was now blended with a hue pink, then gold with a splash of amber surrounding the nearly setting sun. Nemona knocked on the mahogany door and it slowly creaked open; revealing the awaited city of Mezagoza. As Patch stepped through the ancient threshold, they felt they were living in the pictures of brochures they read. Just as they imagined, Mezagoza was an artful, grandiose city that couldn’t be contained on a single canvas.

The ground was paved with colorful bits of stone, arranged in a way to make it feel that you were walking on a mosaic. The buildings were painted blue or yellow with white accents to make them feel coordinated. Various shops made up streets, offering various knick-knacks and keepsakes. Nearby restaurants peppered the air with promising aromas that would soothe your nose, widen your eyes, and cause your mouth to water. Upon climbing a flight of stairs, Patch saw that a battlefield made up the center of the city. This time being paved with the finest alabaster marble and the field's borders are surrounded by a different color of tile to represent each type of Pokemon. 

Standing at the highest level of the city was the Uva Academy building. It was structured similar to a castle and its piercing spires couldn’t be missed no matter where you stood in the city. On the left of the building an arched bridge was connected to a separate tower where a tree grew. On the right, a faced dome stood out of place among the medieval structures and it was clear that it was added fairly recently. In the center of the building was a giant glass Pokeball in the belfry. 

“Is there any other way to get up there?” Patch asked, intimidated by the massive staircase leading up to the building. 

Nemona laughed, “You’re not a Uva student without climbing that staircase! Come on!” 

They treaded onward to campus, still dreading the rigorous climb. Well, it’s better than the Skyarrow Bridge, they thought. Patch was already out of breath when they made it up twenty stairs, while Nemona was already at the top waiting for them. Oh, come on! They complained in their head. The day had been long, but if it was going to be over they just needed to make it to their dorm. As they climbed more stairs they let the new possibilities in Paldea fester in their head. First day of being a trainer, in a day or so it’ll be my first day of being an art student. I’ll get to learn Pokemon anatomy. The Pokemon I caught today could model for me! I wonder how I would keep them still? Tamarind would probably be easiest, it’s easy for him to relax. I hope I can catch more Pokemon though. Finally, after all of that, they arrived at Uva Academy,

The campus courtyard was just as big as the city plaza, with plenty of room for grass and cypress trees to grow. Students who had already checked in were scattered about either on their own or forming cliques with others. Fate could only decide who Patch was going to befriend, but they had faith that the art classes would lead to happy connections.

“So now we’re here!” Nemona took a good stretch, “I wish I could have gotten you here sooner.”

“No no, it’s okay! Today was crazy!” Patch shrugged.

“Anyway…” Nemona yawned “This is where we have to part. You need to get settled into your dorm and I have to review my class schedule.”

The young trainer nodded back without a word. Although they had only really known Nemona for a week, they were the closest connection they had in Paldea. In a way, she held a mentor-like role to them and it would only strengthen as Patch would be seeing them around campus.

“Just get your keycard from the front desk,” the champion waved to them as she walked away, “Feel free to stop by my office anytime!”

From there, Patch followed the travertine path to the academy’s front door. Upon entering the building, they found themselves in a glorious hall akin to the inside of a castle. The wooden ceiling felt stories high, yet the hall was not overcrowded with echoes. A set of opposing staircases led to a second floor, which was supported by alabaster pillars. A library made up most of the hall, with every mahogany shelf being chalked to the brim with books. I wonder if they have any Swords of Justice? Patch thought marveling at the assortment of books. A white banner was hung above the front desk that read “Welcome New Students”. A brown-haired student and their Mawile sat behind the front desk, waiting for students to check in.

“Patch Callune?” The stylish student asked whilst applying makeup.

“Umm… that’s me,” Patch nervously adjusted the hat from covering their eyes. 

The upperclassman handed them a keycard, “Room 302. Take the stairs to the left, then go up the elevator to the third floor.”

The student immediately left their post with their Mawile beside them. Am I the last to check in? I hope I didn’t make them sit there all day. Part of them wished they had arrived earlier when Clavell, but the other half was grateful for staying with Nemona. Without her, they wouldn’t have caught two new Pokemon as well as a temporary member.

Up the stairs, they went to the elevator which wouldn’t open unless they scanned their keycard on a sensor. The elevator itself fit the ornate aesthetic of the school with rich wooden walls and a purple carpeted floor. However, Patch could not find any buttons to press and the doors quickly slid shut. Beneath their feet, they felt the elevator moving upward which only made Patch more confused. Soon after the doors slid open into an entirely new corridor lined with doors on each side. Could this be my floor? Patch strolled along the hallway to see that the door closest to the right was labeled 302, their room. 

A little relieved, the exhausted trainer scanned their keycard over the lock and the door opened to a pleasant little room filled with boxes. It wasn’t as big as the guestroom back at Nemona’s but it was still cozy. On the leftside their small kitchen space complete with a sink, countertop, and some cabinets to hold snacks. On the other side where most of Patch’s boxes took up the floor, but once they unpacked it their would become a nice space to sitdown and relax. A desk sat in the corner of the room, perfect for drawing and studying. Across from it was a bed, already made in anticipation for Patch’s arrival. 

This is it, they gleamed with excitement, My humble abode until I graduate! They slid most of their boxes to their desk to open up some open space, and then they reached into their bag and released their Pokeballs. All at once, Tamarind, Kombucha, and Arturo appeared before their trainer; curious as to where they were. Being the smallest, Arturo scampered about into any dark corner he could hide in. Tamarind sniffed the boxes to see if there was any food inside them. Patch made sure to keep Kombucha from rubbing his putrid odor on the fresh sheets of their bed. I should figure out how to give a Lechonk a bath… 

While the other Pokemon were roaming freely, Kapheria was still locked inside her Pokeball. Patch wanted to let her out but worried that she would exacerbate her crack in such a tight space Knowing well that Kapheria deserved some attention, they caved in and preceded to release the metallic dragon. Once out of her ball Kapheria took up a lot of space within the confines of the dorm, but their was still enough room for her to properly raise her head and tail  

“Arg?” Kapheira purred. 

Patch held the dragon by the sides of her jaws, “Have a good rest girl?”

“Arggggh!” she yawned letting out a big roar.

“Aww,” Patch scratched beneath her chin, “This is going to be your new home. You’ll be staying with me until your trainer comes back!”

Patch felt a tug at their sock, and they turned to see Tamarind at their feet. The Fuecoco held out his arms to his trainer, gesturing that he wanted to be held. As the trainer picked him up and felt the warmth of crocodile’s body, they sensed a blissful relief in their overly-shaken heart. Despite knowing their Pokemon for only a day, Patch would happily care for them like their own children. Despite feeling intimidated they would allow their Pokemon to battle if it kept them from going stir crazy. Despite feeling unsure of everything, Patch would always have their Pokemon by their side.

<- Chapter 4- Chapter 6 ->

[muniesstuff]

The whole cannon event and universe collapsing things has got me thinking. Miguel's way of seeing time and space seems to be in a linear format, which doesn't make much sense. Because there are many variety and vast differences of spider people and their origin stories right.

(idk where I heard this or if this was discussed in a science class at one point). But the thing is that space and time are not linear. Rather, space and time run in a wave like flow, right. But there's also the factor that the universe has not, and as far as we know, it will not stop growing/expanding.

So, this would imply there is no set direction, a universe, or dimension must take. Because the universe has not stopped growing and changing, dimensions have not stopped growing and changing.

Then there's Miguel's whole reason of being jaded, bitter, guilt consumed, and traumatized. Aka, a universe collapsing on him for wanting to raise his daughter from another dimension. I really don't think that one man could be the cause of a whole universe collapse. There are trillions upon trillions of living and sentient creatures in any given universe. One person doing one change could not cause that severe level of damage to a universe. So, there had to be more at play as to why the universe that miguel chose to interfere in for it to collapse like that.

It's like nature. If something causes an environment to change, it's just nature reacting to various factors. Take a clown fish, for example. A female clown fish is the head of the school, and there is only one female clown fish. This is because the only way to have male clown fish is for the female to create a stressful environment. There are other species that change gender in response to their environment, lacking certain factors needed to continue the life cycle. So, if earth can do that, the universe can too.

But also, there is not enough data to prove that Miguel himself had cause that single collapse. There is not enough data on the difference and similarities between every spider person's universe. Like, difference in race, city, gender, orientation, family, friends, building, food, plants, colors, name, neighbors, and the entire population of earth. So, we don't know if there are set factors in every universe that had a shift or if only certain universe had certain factors while others have different factors.

If there are different spider people, then there have to be different factors and constructs in different universes. That can come to even the genetic makeup of the universe to the day cycle of the universe.

But if Miles was such a big anomaly, and his world had a spiderman, why didn't his universe collapse? I mean, a radioactive enhanced spider bite Miles and his spiderman days not far behind. And wouldn't the spider society interference cause a destabilization of the universe they interact in when its not their's??

It makes no sense how Miles becoming spiderman caused that big of a butterfly affect. To me, it even seems that Miles was his universe why of working with a shift happening rather than against it. "Peter Parker, this universe spiderman dies? No problem. I'll fix this immediately." That's what it feels like.

But there's also Spider Society basically saying that to be a spider, you have to lose a loved one to become a spider. But Peter got his power before his uncle died, and Miles origin story mimics that. Except, Miles uncle was a villain vs a regular guy.

So, Miles did love a loved one and sacrificed things that used to be his normal life to create his new norm. It's just that Miguel's equation and justication don't make sense to me.

Maybe I'm thinking about it the wrong way? Or just overthinking it in general? Just it feels like the whole spider society was a huge and minimum data/ researched bet.

[wouldntyou-liketoknow]

RE8 AU Incorrect Quotes

Hey, @that-bat! I know it’s been a long time since I wrote for the RE8 AU, and I’m honestly not quite sure when I’ll be adding the next story for you. I haven’t lost interest in your AU: I’ve just sort of started writing about an AU of my own, and I’ve been really excited to work on it.

SO, to make up for the lack of a full-on story, I thought maybe you’d enjoy something a bit more memeish. . ?

___

Ethan Nestor-Winters: *being attacked by one of Nate’s undead animals* GET YOUR FUCKIN’ DOG, BITCH! Nate/Lord Ophio: *not even looking in Ethan’s direction* It don’t bite. Ethan Nestor-Winters: YES IT DO—!

___

[When Ethan finally comes to after Matt’s venom runs its course]

Ethan Nestor-Winters: *struggling against his binds* I HAVE THE RIGHT TO REMAIN SILENT! Matt/Lord Loxosceles: *watching Ethan* You do have the right, Earwig. . . Matt/Lord Loxosceles: *steps closer to Ethan and looks in him the eyes* But what you lack is the capacity. Ethan Nestor-Winters: >:0

___

Ethan Nestor-Winters: You’re clearly an attention-seeker. Mark/Lord Isurus: *lets out a loud gasp* How dare you?! I’m the exact opposite of an attention-seeker! Why would I even need to seek attention? I’m the strongest, most capable Lord under Mother Mira—hey, don’t look away when I’m talking to you!

___

Nate/Lord Ophio: –fAmIlY cOnVeRsAtIoN! I’ll start first—what’re your thoughts on the dEATH PENALTY?! Matt/Lord Loxosceles and Mark/Lord Isurus: *laughing hysterically* Ethan Nestor-Winters: *looking very uncomfortable* Nate/Lord Ophio: *slams his hands on the table* ANSWER ME!!!

___

Nate/Lord Ophio: I can fit the whole world in my hands. Mark/Lord Isurus: Yeah? Prove it. Nate/Lord Ophio: *picks up Phibes*

___

Ethan Nestor-Winters: I’m sick of just deserving better. Ethan Nestor-Winters: *loads some bullets into his handgun* Gonna start taking it by force—

___

Any of The Three Lords: I could kill you if I wanted. Hunter/The Baron: Yeah? So could a human being. So could a dog. So could a very dedicated duck. You aren't special.

___

Mark/Lord Isurus: People ask me how I get the wet look in my hair Mark/Lord Isurus: I tell ‘em I use “Essence of Aquatics” gel Mark/Lord Isurus: They say “What’s that?” Mark/Lord Isurus: *dives into the water that half of his castle is submerged in* I USE THE FUCKING ESTUARY!!!

___

Hunter/The Baron: Hello—

Nate/Lord Ophio: Leave before there's a terrible misunderstanding between my foot and your ass. 

___

Matt/Lord Loxosceles: Hey, are you busy? Nate/Lord Ophio: Yeah, I am. Matt/Lord Loxosceles: Cool, listen to this—

___

Mark/Lord Isurus: *pacing around the Tall Lady statue* I didn’t ask to be given such a perfect being. . . Mark/Lord Isurus: I DEMANDED IT.

___

Hunter/The Baron: *talking about his “friendship” with Nate and doing business with the other Lords* I see the red flags, I acknowledge that they're there, and then I completely ignore them.

___

Nate/Lord Ophio: I'm not a morning person. I'm barely even a person. 

___

Ethan Nestor-Winters: Miss me with that “weapon accuracy” shit. I’m shooting everything. I’m laying down cover fire. I’m shooting the walls. I’m shooting my enemies. I’m shooting myself. My accuracy is one hundred-percent. Y’all just don’t know what I’m aiming at

___

Matt/Lord Loxosceles: Good night. Matt/Lord Loxosceles: Sleep tight. Matt/Lord Loxosceles: *grinning maliciously* Don't let the bedbugs crawl up to your ear and whisper threatening things that make you question yourself. . .

__

Ethan Nestor-Winters: If I had a face like yours, I'd put it on a wall and throw a brick at it. Mark/Lord Isurus: If I had a face like YOURS, I'd put it on a brick and throw a wall at it. 

___

Matt/Lord Loxosceles: Mark is not a morning person. Or a night person. There’s really only about seven minutes a day he’s pleasant to be around. Mark/Lord Isurus: The best part is you never know when they’re coming. 

___

Nate/Lord Ophio: What’s up? I’m back.

Ethan Nestor-Winters: I LITERALLY SAW YOU DIE. YOU DIED! YOU WERE DEAD!!!

Nate/Lord Ophio: Death is a social construct.

___

Mark/Lord Isurus: Never have I ever. . .been grounded by my parents. Nate/Lord Ophio: *exasperated* I knew you’d pull that shit. Matt/Lord Loxosceles: *also exasperated* He makes orphan jokes every single time and always wins. Ethan Nestor-Winters: Huh. I usually go for the “never had a dad who supported me” one.

___

Nate/Lord Ophio: My life is a fucking mess. Matt/Lord Loxosceles: Nate, just relax, okay? Go to the village and take one of the humans. Nate/Lord Ophio: I don’t want to deal with a villager right now! Matt/Lord Loxosceles: Who said they’d be for you? 

___

Hunter/The Baron: You know, people treat me like a god. Ethan Nestor-Winters: How? Hunter/The Baron: They ignore my existence unless they need something.

___

[Responses to getting stabbed with a sword]

Mark/Lord Isurus: BITCH—

Matt/Lord Loxosceles: I’m gonna give you a ten-second headstart.

Nate/Lord Ophio: That's fair. . .

Ethan Nestor-Winters: NOT AGAIN!

Hunter/The Baron: Are you gonna want this back, or can I keep it?

___

Matt/Lord Loxosceles: *attacking Ethan in a completely enraged frenzy* WHY DID YOU KILL HIM?! HE COULD HAVE HAD HOPES AND DREAMS, HE COULD HAVE HAD A FAMILY!!! Ethan Nestor-Winters: *struggling to escape* IT WAS JUST A SPIDER, GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM ME—!

___

Nate/Lord Ophio: *is 5’10* Fight me! Mark/Lord Isurus: *is 7’3* Seriously? HA! What’re you gonna do, kick me in the ankles? Hunter/The Baron: *watching from the safety of his caravan* . . .

[Later]

Matt/Lord Loxosceles: *originally came out to buy something from The Baron’s Market, but is now staring at Mark, who is currently curled up on the ground and crying* Matt/Lord Loxosceles: Um. . .Baron? What happened to Mark? Hunter/The Baron: *shrugs* Lord Ophio kicked him really hard in the ankles.

___

Nate/Lord Ophio: Look at my face. Ethan Nestor-Winters: Okay. . ? Nate/Lord Ophio: No, no. Keep looking. Ethan Nestor-Winters: I am looking! Nate/Lord Ophio: No, you’re not. Look harder. Ethan Nestor-Winters: Is there a point to this? Nate/Lord Ophio: Yes. So, look as hard as you can. Focus on every part of my face. Ethan Nestor-Winters: Alright! I am!!! Nate/Lord Ophio: Now. . .does it look like I give a fuck?

___

Nate/Lord Ophio: Die. Hunter/The Baron: Please don't die! Nate/Lord Ophio: DIE! Hunter/The Baron: PLEASE DON'T DIE! Mark/Lord Isurus: *confused* Why are they yelling at a plant? Matt/Lord Loxosceles: *watching while eating some human fingers like popcorn* Nate found it in the woods and decided uproot it and give it to Baron. Ever since then, Baron’s been trying to get Nate to accept it as their kid.

___

Ethan Nestor-Winters: Can you keep a secret?

Hunter/The Baron: Do you know anything about my life?

Ethan Nestor-Winters: . . .Good point.

___

Matt/Lord Loxosceles: Fool me once, I’m gonna kill you

___

Mark/Lord Isurus: I came out here to attack people and I'm honestly having such a good time right now.

___

Hunter/The Baron: Bottling up negative emotions is bad for your health, so you shouldn't do it. Nate/Lord Ophio: I know, that's why I bottle up all my emotions, both positive and negative, so it cancels out. Hunter/The Baron: Th-that's not how that works—

___

Mark/Lord Isurus: You know, sometimes I feel like that Baron doesn't take us seriously enough. Nate/Lord Ophio: “Sometimes?” Matt/Lord Loxosceles: “Enough?” Mark/Lord Isurus: . . . Matt/Lord Loxosceles: Change that to “at all” and we'll talk.

___

Hunter/The Baron: I’d like to offer you moral support, but I have questionable morals.

___

Nate/Lord Ophio: You just said “hole” too many times. Matt/Lord Loxosceles: And that’s coming from Nate, so. . .that’s concerning. Mark/Lord Isurus: YOU TWO THINK YOU KNOW EVERYTHING! *storms out*

___

Nate/Lord Ophio: In your opinion, what’s the height of stupidity? Matt/Lord Loxosceles: *turning to Mark/Lord Isurus* How tall are you?

___

[The Lords are having dinner together after a ceremony]

Nate/Lord Ophio: Mark, can you pass the salt? Mark/Lord Isurus: *throws Matt/Lord Loxosceles across the table*

___

Ethan Nestor-Winters: I currently have seven empty notebooks and I have no idea what to put in them. Any suggestions? Matt/Lord Loxosceles: Put human remains in them. Ethan Nestor-Winters: I am currently taking suggestions from everyone but you. Mark/Lord Isurus: Put human remains in them. Ethan Nestor-Winters: I am currently taking suggestions from everyone but you two. Nate/Lord Ophio: Put human remains in them. Ethan Nestor-Winters: I am no longer taking suggestions.

___

Mark/Lord Isurus: *shooing Nate/Lord Ophio away* Can you go be depressed over there? You’re bumming out my whole area. 

___

Hunter/The Baron: You’re just planning to shoot at The Lords? Ethan Nestor-Winters: Yeah, don’t worry. I’ve got a holy gun. Hunter/The Baron: Really? How’s that gun holy? Ethan Nestor-Winters: It puts holes in things

___

Mark/Lord Isurus: Hey, Baron! Your momma so fat— Hunter/The Baron: My mom committed multiple war crimes and is now locked in solitary confinement in a Bolivian prison. Mark/Lord Isurus: Well, uh—your dad— Hunter/The Baron: My father left when I was two to be captured and consequentially sacrificed by a group of feral ferrets. Matt/Lord Loxosceles: What the hell—? Mark/Lord Isurus: Well then... Nate/Lord Ophio: Mark, just knock it off! Mark/Lord Isurus: Your grandparents so— Hunter/The Baron: My grandmother floated into the sky like a balloon with too much helium when my grandfather spontaneously combusted. Hunter/The Baron: Y o u  c a n ’ t  i n s u l t  m e,  f i s h - m a n

___

Ethan Nestor-Winters: Dandelions symbolize everything I want to be in life Matt/Lord Loxosceles: Fluffy and dead with a gust of wind? Ethan Nestor-Winters: Unapologetic. Hard to kill. Feral. Filled with sunlight. Bright. Beautiful in a way that the conventional and controlling hate but cannot ever fully destroy. Stubborn. Happy. Bastardous. Friends with bees. Highly disapproving of lawns. Full of wishes that will be carried far after I die. Mark/Lord Isurus: Edible

___

[It’s very late at night. Matt ventures into the center of The Village, over to The Baron’s Market]

Matt/Lord Loxosceles: Would you happen to have any sleeping pills in stock? Hunter/The Baron: I might. Why? Matt/Lord Loxosceles: Mark pissed off Nate earlier today, and now Nate won’t stop sending undead things to Castle Isurus. And APPARENTLY, Mark doesn’t know what to do about it, because he’s just been running around the outside perimeter and screaming, “DOES THIS LOOK LIKE A HOTEL TO YOU?!”

___

Hunter/The Baron: Do you care if I take the skin off this Furby? Hunter/The Baron: I want to make him a god. Once he is free of his sinful flesh, he can begin a path towards enlightenment. He will take care of us. Hunter/The Baron: I also want to softhack his circuits. Nate/Lord Ophio: . . .I literally could not care less, but never say anything as frightening as that ever again.

___

Nate/Lord Ophio: CALM THE FUCK DOWN! *slaps Mark/Lord Isurus across the face several times* 

___

Nate/Lord Ophio: Sometimes I drink milk straight out of the container. Mark/Lord Isurus: The cow??? Nate/Lord Ophio: . . .What—? Matt/Lord Loxosceles: Mark, W H Y ?

___

Ethan Nestor-Winters: What the hell do you do with so many dead bodies?! Nate/Lord Ophio: What don’t I do with dead bodies? Ethan Nestor-Winters: . . . Nate/Lord Ophio: Okay, that sounded more sexual than I intended. I just reanimate them and experiment on them.

___

Nate/Lord Ophio: If Matt and I were drowning, who would you save? Mark/Lord Isurus: You two can’t swim? Matt/Lord Loxosceles: It’s a hypothetical question, Mark! Who would you save? Mark/Lord Isurus: My time and effort.

___

Nate/Lord Ophio: I saw you fall, saw the sinners lay on your corpses... Matt/Lord Loxosceles: Hey, what’s up with Nate? Nate/Lord Ophio: I created you, made the pieces perfect, others marveled at your beauty… their gazes may have held envy, though, for none are perfect but you. I was only looking away for a moment, but you were gone. I had failed you. And I fell into despair. The only way to save myself was to create, but I knew… this time I knew I was only making you to die. And I apologize. For I will undoubtedly fail you again. For a short time, there will be peace and beauty, but none in the face of us shall lay undisturbed. The greatest have fallen, and will continue to fall, and I weep for you for being born unto this place, where brother eats brother, and the undeserving rise to fame. Those that have gone against you know they’ve wronged you, and they will stand before the creator, knowing they have sinned. Do not worry, little ones, you will be avenged. Mark/Lord Isurus: . . .He reanimated some animals, then he went somewhere else for twenty minutes. And when he came back, the animals were back to being dead for whatever reason. So, obviously, he just did the whole reanimation thing again. Mark/Lord Isurus: *to Nate/Lord Ophio* Who even is the creator? I thought you were an atheist! Nate/Lord Ophio: SHUT THE FUCK UP, MARK! I’M TRYING TO BE DRAMATIC AND MYSTERIOUS!

___

Ethan Nestor-Winters: So apparently the “bad vibes” I’ve been feeling are actually severe psychological distress.

___

Mark/Lord Isurus: If I'm really as evil as you say I am, then have the gods strike me down where I stand. [Lightning ACTUALLY strikes] Mark/Lord Isurus: *grinning despite being severely electrocuted* Ha! Nice try, jackass! Next time, give it your A-game!

___

Nate/Lord Ophio: Can you please be serious for five minutes? Hunter/The Baron: My record is four, but I think I can do it.

___

[hakdogism]

THIS IS A BLOG!

THIS IS A BLOG! A Tumblr weblog made by Jane Lorey P. Vestidas

Note: This is written in an informal manner. The content may appear like I am talking to myself, Well yes I am. But of course, I’m talking to you too, you little bastard. So, before you read this blog (Whoever you are) lemme tell you that there are inappropriate words included in here and that you shouldn’t take it seriously (GROW UP!). If you think that cursing in blogs are inappropriate then you should read Erika Napoletano’s blogs and Mark Manson’s pieces, you infant brained human being! Now, do you want to read this?

THIS IS A BLOG! A Tumblr weblog made by Jane Lorey P. Vestidas

Note: This is written in an informal manner. The content may appear like I am talking to myself, Well yes I am. But of course, I’m talking to you too, you little bastard. So, before you read this blog (Whoever you are) lemme tell you that there are inappropriate words included in here and that you shouldn’t take it seriously (GROW UP!). If you think that cursing in blogs are inappropriate then you should read Erika Napoletano’s blogs and Mark Manson’s pieces, you infant brained human being! Now, do you want to read this?

Very well, then please proceed.

On May 18, 2020 at 10:47 PM, our professor in Trends (I can’t remember the complete name of the subject.) gave us an online requirement, blog making. Ok! So basically we are given this question:

I will give you answers! No, not the “Plant trees” and “Conserve water” type of answers but a legit answer to this question. You see, this is a very serious question that requires a very serious answer that’s why I invited a good friend here in my blog to help me get an A+. Please welcome, Mr. Albert Einstein himself.

According to Albert Einstein, “Two things are infinite: the universe and human stupidity; and I’m not sure about the universe.” Human stupidity, y’all know that human brain evolved (It makes me wonder, what happened to yours? Sike!) and evidences  proving its evolution are all over the internet. The human race is known for its adaptive nature, we survived! Even at the brink extinction we WILL survive!

We the modern Homo sapiens are the living evidence that humans are powerful beyond measure. Resiliency to climate variability and change? Ha! Piece of cake. Our great ancestors survived the Ice age by developing tools and making clothes to keep them warm, the things we have now and the technology we are continuously developing are our trump cards to avoid extinction. Ever heard of the Variability Selection Hypothesis? This hypothesis suggests that environmental instability shaped humans, if we don’t have plants to eat then we eat animals or even humans just like ourselves. But modern societies don’t approve cannibalism, and I forbid you to bite off your arms.

So, let me ask you a question.

THAT’S RIGHT! YOU SON OF A BIRD, HUMANS. We make up all of these. Humans can be found everywhere, even at the tightest space you could ever live in, you can find a breathing human. (Check this link)  https://www.scoopwhoop.com/Couple-Lives-In-Sewer/

So the question “HOW CAN WE MAKE OUR FAMILIES, COMMUNITIES, BUSINESSES, AND OUR WHOLE LOCALITY RESILIENT TO CLIMATE VARIABILITY AND CHANGE?” translates to “How can we make ourselves resilient to climate variability and change?” Planting trees, conserving water, proper distribution of wastes are ways on how to limit the harsh effects caused by this change in the environment to us. It is not a form of resiliency but a self-serving action that humans are ought to do to avoid the environment’s harsh effects (If you don’t get what I meant by that then the example is wearing clothes to keep you warm). We are resilient in nature, that is the biggest reason why we survived and why we are continuously surviving.

The product of our years of evolution are not just our features, language and society. Technology is a product of our evolution too, from stones to complicated machines and computers.

Let us take this blog on a different level, shall we?

We can use the situation in Angat dam as an example. The metro manila depends on the Angat Dam’s water supply and the drastic change on its water level affects not only the families but the businesses all over metro manila too. And guess what did humans do? They are currently proposing a project named Angat Water Transmission Improvement Project (AWTIP, the “Project”) that aims to normalize the dam’s water level.  

Oh? Not satisfied yet are you?

Have you seen the changes after the eruption of Mt. Pinatubo? I meant this:

When we combine the idea behind my examples, we can conclude that both we and the environment cause change. The environment offers drought then we do measures such as increasing water supply, decreasing water demand, and increasing flexibility (According to Snover, 2015). The environment provides harsh weather then we adapt in different ways to avoid it. There is no specific answer on how we can adapt to climate variability and change, even our bodies change depending on our environment.

This explains the existence of black skin, a result of the human body’s adaptation to (UV) radiation. And these changes dates back millions of years ago, the change in our environment is not new to us and our kind. We’ve always been dealing with this problem and we are constantly dealing with it up until today. Different measures on how can we deal with climate change will emerge in the future, and it will probably involve a new type of home, clothes, transportations, and many more. So to finish this blog I invited another good friend to deliver a quote. A round of applause for Mr. Winston Churchill.

“To improve is to change; to be perfect is to change often.” –Winston Churchill

And with that I thank you and your infant brain for reading this blog. So, how is it?

YOU MOTHER–

References:

https://w http://mwss.gov.ph/projects/angat-water-transmission-improvement-project/ww.theatlantic.com/science/archive/2018/08/earths-scorching-hot-history/566762/

(Repost since my og tumblr account got deleted T-T)

[visibun]

...holy fuck, my last post is quite literally the very first time that I've ever reached the tag limit for a post, and I primarily pulled that off by prattling on about Cinnabun at extreme length.

I didn't even know that there was a limit of 30 tags per post. I've never had any reason to hit that limit before. If that doesn't fully prove and emphasize that this little trauma rabbit isn't my most detailed and obsessed-about OC brain worm of all time, I don't know what the hell else could possibly spell it out any better.

...if you've been reading her tag on my blog, but can't understand what her deal is thus far: She's a Lopunny OC, and hers is a mature, fairly dark, and very heavy story, taking place in the Pokemon universe. Yes, I started writing this in a very low, very mentally/emotionally fragile, and really dark part of my life, so yes, this started off as "me effectively venting/'self-harming' in a way through her." I know that OC stories involving both Pokemon and sensitive subjects like death, self-harm, suicide, and so forth are usually frowned upon by a good deal of the fanbase or whatever, since that's not what the source media is like on the surface. But at this point, I hardly care to even acknowledge that stance... you know, past the upcoming walls of text.

Prepare for an encounter with an autistic hyperfixation hidden raid boss fight just below the post cut.

For one, Cinnabun starting off as a sort of "projection" of myself made her both VERY special and important to me, to the point where writing about her low points started to actually personally resonate with myself. This made writing about her in great detail that much easier, since whatever thoughts and feelings that I felt as I was coming up with ideas for this story was on par with how she was meant to feel in those particular scenes. I've quite literally never synchronized with an OC this deeply before, and this let me write out the longest story that I've ever written in my whole goddamn life. It's been a fun and engaging process from start to finish, coming up with plot points and general story details, and then figuring out how to weave everything together so it flows in a way that I like. It's all very special to me, for that reason.

And then two, to be blunt... life is short. To be even more blunt... who knows how much longer I have to be around and enjoy small things like this. I don't care to stunt my ideas just because the theme/tone in its given setting isn't regarded as "popular" by many others in the Pokemon fanbase. It gives me a massive creative outlet — the biggest that I've ever had, really — and working on it to any extent feels really great to my mind that's otherwise typically too crowded up with TV static and disorganized/negative thoughts to let me ever experience a single moment of catharsis to any degree.

I know that the setting of Pokemon is considered to be an odd choice for a story that is largely very upsetting and dark... but, in my defense, the world of Pokemon is already very heavily implied in canon media to be utterly horrifying behind the scenes. A lot of Pokedex entries straight-up designate a good deal of Pokemon as "chronically suffering," like Phantumps being dead lost kids in the woods, Cubones crying over their dead mothers (whose skull they wear) loudly enough to attract their natural predators straight to themselves, or Yamask carrying a depiction of its face from its past life and crying over it. And then, there's other Pokemon who are designated as "chronically making others suffer," like people getting their spirit stolen by looking into a Shedinja's back, Drifloon being a Pokemon "formed by the spirits of people and Pokemon" that casually abducts children, or the fact that a strong pseudo-legendary like Hydreigon has a habit of "biting anything that moves" and has tales of it destroying whole villages. And then there's other Pokemon who just... accidentally create problems by existing. Some casually explode for little to no reason. Others make a lot of earthquakes or other natural disasters just by going about their business. Shit like that.

Like yeah, obviously these details aren't going to be shown in regular Pokemon media, since it is ultimately a franchise geared towards the enjoyment of kids and young teens (with a great deal of fossils like myself obviously still latching onto the franchise for longer than I thought I'd still care about it). But like... there's enough context clues just out there in plain sight to know that the Pokemon universe is 100% capable of being a circus of both horrors and dangers. As far as I can give a damn, my little story and the poor rabbit that it revolves around would be considered "just another Tuesday in Hoenn" in comparison to what else could happen in any of the regions at any given time.

So... yeah. I don't know what possessed me to talk at length about this to like... no one in specific, but that's my mental word salad about that OC and her story. I like writing about her since it gives me a massive creative release, and I fully disagree with the thought that every original story in a Pokemon setting has to be sterile and pleasant or else it's just "bad" or whatever. If I wanted a tame and clean story in the Pokemon universe, I'd just watch the show or play any of the official games... hence, me writing out my own story, and then defending its existence to no one but I guess myself for what feels like the past hour.

...I should probably go and eat something now;;

[manslaught]

she can't help but think about how her life would be so much easier if only tai were boring. it would still be hard, of course, because mikayla's life has never been anything but difficult, but at least then, she wouldn't be so concerned with all these feelings she's not used to—deep down, she knows the thought is stupid, because everyone experiences something like this, and mikayla just happens to be incredibly late, having successfully pushed everyone else away right up until now. “ probably bad, ” she decides, bringing her hand up to rest against tai's neck, thumb running just beneath her jawline. “ it would be nice to be boring sometimes. ” mikayla's pretty sure that at least a part of tai would agree, considering some of what makes her different than everyone else. “ —but only sometimes. ”

mikayla bites back the confession that she's capable of being like him, because it's something she doesn't want to admit to herself, and definitely not to taissa. especially when tai hasn't seen that side of her, not really, because while she's seen a glimpse of it the night she broke that frat guy's nose, that pales in comparison to some of the things she's done—and she's capable of worse, she's sure, but she hopes she has enough self control not to find out.

“ please. i don't get jealous. ” she's lying and knows it, but she scoffs at the idea anyway. “ all those girls combined couldn't even compare to half of me. ” that much might be true, because she has the unfair advantage of being aphrodite's daughter, but it doesn't stop the jealousy from forming in the pit of her stomach anyway, because tai's told her herself that looks aren't the only thing she cares about—and what else does mikayla have to offer long-term, really? despite all of her self-doubt, tai's reassurance comforts her, because she believes her—which is terrifying all on its own, because her trust is difficult to earn, and she's not sure how she'll react if it's broken. “ i know. i have that effect on people, ” she hums, as if being overly confident is going to take away from the fact she was obviously jealous. “ thinking about what about me, though? ”

mikayla doesn't know any other way to comfort tai about the whole thing besides just proving that she doesn't care, that whatever violence she'd shown in that moment—in any moment, really—doesn't change the way mikayla sees her. if she were anyone else, maybe it would, maybe it even still should, given what mikayla had to grow up with, but for her, it's just as part of life as breathing. she laughs a little against her lips, hardly even pulling back to speak. “ you're such a kiss ass. ” mikayla lets herself fall back into the kiss, smile slowly fading as it deepens, crowding closer to her, hand moving to tai's shoulder to press her back flat against the mattress, moving half on top of her as she does. but they have the entire weekend, so she doesn't feel as rushed as she usually does, so after another moment, she stops, pulling back just enough for their noses to brush. there's a lot she wants to say—all having something to do with how glad she is to be here with her, away from everyone else—but nothing she'll actually let herself admit, so instead she clears her throat, finding something else. “ before i forget—it's, like, stupid, whatever, but i brought stuff for s'mores. you know, in case you didn't want to miss out on the only semi-decent part of camping. ”

tai stares back at her for a long while before she nods her head once,  accepting her apology.   she knows she's sorry --- she knows that this isn't exactly something mikayla can control well.  she understands it,  too,  because too often,  she's let her own anger or anxiety bleed into her words where it's not deserved.  a small smile tugs are her lips again,  feeling much more confident in the teasing than she does in talks that are far too serious about where they stand.   truthfully,  tai gets bored easily,  too -- keeping everyone she hooks up with at a distance isn't just about trying to protect herself and her own privacy.  it's about knowing no one can really capture her attention,  either,  but that' exactly why mikayla has broken through so many barriers.  she has tai's attention,  and as much as she's tried,  she can't seem to shake it ---  and right now,  she doesn't want to.  focusing on her calms her down   (  even in those times when mikayla is so hard to read it makes tai want to scream.  )  ❝  lucky for us,  we're not boring,  ❞   she teases.  ❝  ---  good or bad. ❞ 

tai doesn't know mikayla's father,  but she knows enough to hate the comparison,  her nose scrunching as she lets out a scoff.   ❝  you're not like him,  ❞   she mumbles,  trying to skirt away from the topic just as mikayla seems to want.   she scoffs at the confession,  but she's amused by the jealousy anyway.  she had no reason to be, though --- despite having hooked up with a few of her teammates before,  she has no interest in being with them or anyone else anytime soon,  not when mikayla has this hold on her.  they may not be willing to label this or define it at all,  but it would feel wrong,  like she's disrespecting mikayla --- and she doesn't want that.   ❝  wow.  jealous of me spending the night with other girls? ❞   she taunts,  not afraid to call her on it -- only for the confidence boost it gives herself.   still,  she wants to reassure her she has nothing to worry about,  because as fun as the jealousy may be for a moment,  she doesn't want to actually cause a rift between them.   ❝  you'd have nothing to worry about,  you know.  i would've just been thinking about you if i went,  ❞   she admits,  her fingers lightly tapping mikayla's back as she looks back at her.   she scoffs again,  lightly tugging her in closer.   ❝  no,  you can't,  ❞   she says,  spoken as a warning -- but it's playful,  a small laugh falling from her lips after.

she hums,  the hand on mikayla's back sliding down to her waist as she smirks back at her.   ❝  oh,  it means everything,  ❞   she teases.  she feels shame for it,  but at least joking about it now makes it easier to forget all of that.  she got so far away from what she did to allie that it was hard not to,  but back in the real world,  sometimes it can come back to haunt her.   she can't help but to smile into the kiss,  her body melting into hers as she relaxes again.   she holds it for a moment longer before she parts,  just enough to whisper against her lips.   ❝  you're the perfect kind,  ❞   she teases before letting her lips meet hers again.

[clairecrive]

hiii! um i had a request if that’s alright? umm a darkling x tidemaker!reader where the reader slowly grows more and more jealous of alina until she finally snaps and tries to leave with another tidemaker to train with master tidemakers for the kings army but then darkling stops her. with a happy ending please 🥺🥺

Where your heart is

A/n; this took a life of its own but I'm still not too sure about it even though I had lots of fun writing it. Hope you'll like it, 🌻x

Word count: 2.4K +

Warnings: angst, darklina, jelousy

Tags: @blackst0nes7077 , @thefictionalgemini , @louweasleymalfoy , @jupiterandbutterflies , @for-bebbanburg , @tarkanelima-blog , @pansysgirlfriend , @acciorudolphx , @kaqua , @hannaxmaria , @vintagebitc , @deardiarystuff, @emmaev , @aleksanderwh0r3 , @hazelrose14, @crowssixof , @qhbr2013 , @odetostep , @strawb3rrydr3ss , @lizzie-he4rts , @korol-lantsov , @shadow4ndbone, @subjecta13-thefangirl , @mriddlemethis , @secretsthathauntus , @carnationworld (tag list form)

SHADOW AND BONE MASTERLIST

He was her mentor. He was the only one who could help her through the discovery and understanding of her powers. That's why he was spending so much time with her. No other reason.

At least that's what you've been telling yourself over and over in hope that you'd start believing it. So far, you had no success. And this had been going on since the day Alina had arrived at the Little Palace a month ago so you didn't harbour any hopes that it'll start working.

But what could you do?

He was spending every waking moment between his War room and the training grounds with Alina. You could see the allure that she had to have in his eyes.

He had been waiting for her for a long time, after all. You couldn't even be mad at him for investing his energies to help her harness her powers since she was the key to Ravka freedom. And, to be fair, Alina wasn't that bad.

Sure, you had to get through many layers of snarky remarks and dry humour that most of the times felt a lot like rudeness rather than humour. But she wasn't that bad. Not when there were people like Zoya walking around.

But the days without seeing him, with just a passing glance or a touch of his hand on your back were taking their toll on you. You missed him.

You had gone from seeing him every day to not seeing him at all.

You had tried to talk to him about it but he.was.always.busy. Or with Alina. You weren't proud to admit it, and you probably never will out loud, but a certain green monster had taken residence on your shoulders.

You were taking your usual stroll around the gardens when you spotted him outside the Palace's main entrance. Hurrying your steps, you called his name to catch his attention.

"Aleksander!"

Fortunately, he heard you and turned to see who was calling him. There were few people who knew his name and there was no chance in hell it would be Baghra. His lips morphed in a small smile as he watched you approaching with a sprint in your steps.

"Hey, I'm so glad I've caught you, it's been ages since I've-" you stopped when you saw Alina's approaching figure. Your eyes darted from her to Aleksander in front of you and you've finally noticed the two horses.

He wasn't wearing his cloak and of course, where Alina was Aleksander followed. Your lips thinned in a line as you rolled your shoulders back. You knew that Aleksander had noticed your expression change but you hadn't had centuries of practice to scholar your features into betraying nothing. But you forced yourself to at least keep up the appearances with Alina.

You gave her a smile when she stood before you complimenting her hair.

"Genya's handiwork," she simply said as it was enough to explain everything.

"Well, I'm going to leave you to your outing," you said hoping they couldn't notice the strain in your smile. Turning around, you retraced your steps to where you had been standing before and where you should have stayed all this time.

It was clear now- what other signs did he need to give you? Swallowing the lump in your throat, you forced yourself to not let the tears fall. You could feel his eyes on you until the sounds of hooves hitting the gravel told you that they were gone.

However much it hurt you to see again and again the proof that you were losing him, there was still a part of you that told you that this was just a phase. A temporary arrangement, given Aleksander's plans for Ravka. You just had to bite the bullet until it was all over.

And so, with renowned hope, you decided that you were going to talk to him. Even if you had to wait for him for hours or meet him at the brink of dawn, you had to do it. You needed to know where his heart was and from that, you could decide where to go.

However, to your luck, today was the day of the Winter Fete. Everyone, including you, was going to be super busy with finalizing the last minute details and rehearsals. Every Grisha had a role in tonight demonstration even though the star of the whole night was, of course, the Sun Summoner.

Since you were a tidemaker, your manifestation was scheduled before Alina's grand entrance. You and the other tidemakers had prepared a light show, along with Alina, to use water to reflect and amplify Alina's light so as to create a beautiful play of light.

The whole ordeal ended in time for Alina to get back inside the Palace and get on stage and for everyone else to get inside too to witness her exhibition. You followed along with everyone else but alas, you really wished you hadn't.

Aleksander had eyes only for Alina, he never looked away from her even when the light got blinding for everyone else in the room. And you couldn't blame him- Alina was literally glowing. She looked amazing in that black kefta and the symbolism of the colour wasn't lost on you.

You had been a fool, that's what you were. It was painfully obvious how whipped Aleksander was for Alina. Each of those signs was a painful blow to your heart and faith in him. His outings with her, her black kefta, the smile she sent his way and how enthralled he was by her.

Shaking your head, you fought to keep your composure. You had lost him, you realized. You had to accept the fact that it was over. Whatever you had, it had come to an end. The moment it did, was lost on you but you knew it had to coincide with the moment he had met Alina.

As if to confirm your inward musings, Alina and Aleksander walked out of the room, her under his arm.

Well, it was settled then. You couldn't stay here anymore. It was one thing to break up and grow apart but it was a whole other thing to watch him being in love with someone else.

You had to go. That was certain.

Nodding to yourself, you took your final decision just as they walked past you. Aleksander's eyes met yours briefly, just long enough for you to send him a teary glare.

This was the last time you were going to see him and as much as you could feel your heart breaking, you knew that it was something you had to do. They walked out of the room and you wasted no time in leaving as well.

However, before going to your room to pack the few belongings you had, there was somewhere else you needed to go first.

The wind blew harshly on your face, the salt of the sea breeze mixing with that of your tears. Alone on the dock, you allowed yourself to cry. To finally let out everything you had been keeping under lock and key for so very long.

You tried to comfort yourself by reassuring yourself that this was the right choice. The best choice. To stay in a place where you had never truly felt at home, where every nook and cranny reminded you of what you had and what you had lost- of the fact that you hadn't been enough. That your love hadn't been enough for him to stick around, to choose you over a girl he had known for about a day. Everything you had shared, the months spent together in intimacy under his sheets or under the comfort of your favourite tree.

Vanished. Erased. Worthless.

You allowed yourself to feel every ounce of pain his dismissing behaviour had caused you because as soon as you boarded, you were going to leave all of this behind. You were sailing towards your future, towards a new land full of opportunities and new people. Somewhere where you could start fresh.

You heard someone shout the name of the ship you had to be on and knew that the moment had come. Here you were about to step into your new life.

Heaving a sigh, you threw a last look in the Little Palace direction, at what-or rather- who you were leaving behind. Turning around, you gathered your kefta closer to your body to shield you from the harsh weather. As you were about to move, a hand clamping on your back, stopped you.

You winced, not expecting the contact since you thought you were the only one on the dock. Turning around, you were met with a familiar pair of onyx eyes.

"What are you doing?" he asked, an edge on his voice that you couldn't figure out if it was surprise, betrayal or boredom.

"I could ask you the same thing, General." Taking a step back, his hand fell from your shoulder as you put some distance between you. Standing so close to him just as you were about to bid him goodbye forever felt like a cruel joke on destiny's part.

"So this is what you do? Leave in the middle of the night without telling anyone?"

"Those who needed to be, have been rightly notified of my departure. I don't see how this concerns you, though."

"You don't see-" he huffed out, a humourless laugh leaving him," how, in the name of all saints, don't you see how this concerns me?"

"This is the first time you've spoken to me in months, Aleksander so please spare me this bullshit. I've got it, alright?" Raising your hands you took yet another step away from him. "There's no need for you to be here and pretend anymore. Go back to your party and your Grisha and your girl."

"You're my girl," he stated somehow still calmly.

"No, I'm not," you scoffed, "and you've done a fine job proving that these past few months."

"I know I've been neglecting you, but what's a few months when we have a lifetime together in front of us?" he conceded taking a step towards you as his arms widened as if to show you the length of time you'd be spending together.

"It's everything, Aleks," you snapped as your emotions got the best of you, "seeing you getting cosy with Alina every day realising that the more time passed the less you were mine was excruciating and I'm done. I'm going away and I'm leaving all of this behind."

"You can't go."

"Watch me," you quipped as you turned around. Challenging you was not the best way for him to go about this. He knew better than anyone who proudful you could be.

"You cannot go," he... begged? the tone of his voice was so weird coming from him that had you pivot immediately. "You cannot leave. You cannot leave me."

You stood there, hair blowing everywhere for the harsh wind, just staring at him. You'd never seen him so emotional. Yes, you'd shared some intimate moments but he'd never been quite this open about his feelings. The sight of his teary eyes was so unfamiliar that made your brain short-circuiting.

Taking a shaky breath, Aleksander took a step in your direction, getting closer to you but still not close yet.

"Everything that I've ever done has been for a sole purpose, y/n, you know it. And you have to believe me, Alina plays a role in this as well."

"I know she does, it's obvious to everyone. It just has become painfully obvious to me tonight just how important she's come to mean to you." You shrugged as you looked away. Admitting this while also looking him in the eyes was an impossible feat.

"She may as well be the Sun Summoner, but you're my solnishko, y/n." He murmured softly as he took another step, this time getting close enough to you to reach for your hands.

"Sweet talking isn't going to change anything, Aleksander. I saw how you looked at her, I saw her wearing your colours. Do you take me for a fool?"

"Of course not," he disagreed vehemently, "but it's as I've told you, my dear, please believe me. Every action had its purpose which was not hurting you or expressing my love for Alina." He insisted, his hands squeezing yours. His eyes flickered between you and you spotted hopefulness as well as sincerity in them. Which made you hesitate.

Could it be...?

"But why didn't you tell me so, then? Why cutting me out dry without a word?" you uttered, afraid to believe him, afraid to let your heart hope again.

"It has been a play, solnishko. Ever since Alina has stepped foot inside the Little Palace, all eyes have been on us. I had a part to play and so did she. Unfortunately, I couldn't risk it." He explained, his eyes taking in your features, noting how hesitant you still were.

"I swear, my love, you should hear her. The only thing she can talk about it's her childhood best friend who seems so boring, I can't see what she sees in him." He added smiling hoping to lighten the mood. And as a matter of fact, he was rewarded with your giggles.

"Really?"

"I'd never lie to you," he murmured solemnly, his head tilting down toward yours. You met him halfway, your nose bumping softly with his.

"You better never start, Sasha," you warned lightly as he gave you an Eskimo kiss, his hands reaching up to hold your cheeks.

"Never," he promised on your lips. His trailed over yours softly before tilting his head to the side and letting them finally touch.

It has been so long since you've last shared a kiss that you'd almost forgotten how it felt like. How soft his lips were, how voracious he could be, how he always tasted of something sweet.

You gasped as his tongue trailed over your lower lip giving him the desired opportunity to sneak in and meet your tongue. Moaning, you moved your lips with his, hands sneaking through his hair to hold him close. The kiss came to a stop when you both were out of breath. He didn't get far away though as he rested his forehead on yours.

"The captain is going to be really mad at me." You murmured as you heard another shout coming from the end of the dock.

"Let me deal with him," he reassured you before giving you another small kiss. With that, he stepped away and headed over to where your ship was anchored.

You stood there, your fingers touching your lips, still in trance after what happened. So, you had never lost him. He had always been yours.

The realisation made you smile and as you watched his cape blowing in the wind you felt reassured. You knew he had plans but those were never the problem. You could bear seeing him with Alina if you knew that you were the only one in his heart and bed. And it seemed that you weren't the only one who wanted to keep it this way.

[noteguk]

bro bad influence! jk and reader are 100% the type of couple to argue mid-sex i love this culture

They are!!!!

Taglist: @ft-multi @cryinginmypromdress @kooafraid @kissestothesky @dianaaviny @ggukkieland

[ ! ] this drabble is for “bad influence” — it can, however, be read as a standalone. 

— words; 1.8k

— contents and warnings; hmmm smut, semi-public sex, oral (m rec and mention of f rec), unprotected sex, dirty talk, mention of cum play, playfully “arguing” mid-sex, the endless adventures of bad boy!jk x good girl! reader

~

“I can’t believe you, Jungkook,” your voice came out as an irritated murmur against the warm skin of his neck, barely interrupted by a soft whimper. “We’re gonna be late for class.”

His hand grew tighter around your thigh, pushing your leg higher up. Jungkook was buried deep between your folds, filling you up in every way that you loved, and yet you were a bit too paranoid to fully dive into those sensations. “Hmmm don’t care,” he groaned, the slaps of his skin against yours filling that small cabinet in a rhythmic symphony. Twice already, a broom had fallen on top of you, knocking you right on the forehead, and so you refused to let it go. That entire scene was ridiculous. “Fuck, you’re so tight,” he moaned. 

You rolled your eyes, amazed at how he managed to ignore everything else but the feeling of your walls clenching around him. The fact that you two were having a quickie in the janitor’s closet, exactly fifteen minutes before your most important class, was bad enough as it was. Your escapade was far from heavenly, with the stiff air impregnated by the nauseating aroma of a hundred different chemical products, the annoyingly flickering lightbulb over you, and, as stated, the paraphernalia that was knocked over every time Jungkook’s thrusts got a little too rough. 

“God, why are you like this?” you complained. 

He hummed, his fingers digging into your flesh. You could tell that Jungkook was starting to lose himself in you, for the roll of his hips started to get slower, less coordinated, as they always did when he was trying to prolong his pleasure. “Like what?” He breathed out.

You leaned your head back against the wall, looking at those devilish eyes of his. Jungkook’s hair was a mess, exploding around his head like a failed scientific experiment, and you knew that one look was all it took to know that it was sex hair. “Why do you always have to pick the worst time to do this stuff?” you clarified. 

He scoffed. “Excuse me, princess, I think it was you who locked us in here,” he said. He wasn’t wrong, but, to be fair, you weren’t expecting that your make-out session would escalate to that. Then again, you were often naive when it came to his antics. “Now stay quiet or people are going to hear you.”

“Fuck off,” you whispered — whispered, because he was right. You had been controlling your moans and whimpers fairly well, but your normal speaking voice wasn’t a good idea either. There was no way to lock the room from the inside, and anyone could open that door at any given second. 

Jungkook smirked like he knew what you were thinking about — that fucked-out, greek god smirk that had your knees weak for a second. His face was bathed by the golden light from the bulb, dripping in shadows and lustful gazes. “Wrong answer,” he teased. “You were supposed to say ‘Oh, Jungkook, I can’t keep quiet when you’re fucking me so well’.”

As if to prove his claim, Jungkook placed his face on the crook of your neck and pressed himself even deeper inside you. The feeling of his cock stretching you open was intoxicating, and the timid moan you let out was enough to make him throb inside you, gasping against the sweet scent of your hair. 

Still, you wouldn’t bulge. “Gooood, shut up, please,” you whined, interlacing your fingers in his hair. There was a thin layer of sweat on his nape, the expected result from fucking in a hot, closed-off enviroment. “Are you close?”

“Yeah, almost there,” he moaned, picking his pace back up. You had to bite your lip to suppress a particularly loud moan after one of his hands slithered up your abdomen and grabbed your clothed breast, playing with it as he continued to seek his own high. His other hand still had its iron grip on your thigh, keeping your leg up as he continued to pound himself in and out of your wet heat. “Fuck, I love these skirts you wear. Easy access.” 

“You’re such a caveman,” you said. Jungkook was breathing heavy against your ear, fighting for air as he mumbled sweet nothings just for you. You were almost overtaken by him — the pounding of his cock inside your pussy, his delicious moans and curses, the praises that he threw your way for being so good for him. Almost. “Don’t cum inside.”

Jungkook visibly tensed up at your request. You could tell that some part of his primitive brain was thinking of repeating one of his past endeavours — one that he came inside you, and made you walk around campus with his cum in you for the rest of the day. It was really hard to keep an upper hand when Jungkook was always knowingly smirking at you from across the room, loving the way that only the two of you knew of that little nasty secret. 

(Miraculously, it was one of the few times that he didn’t feel slightly jealous when he saw you talking to other guys, but you didn’t have to know that). 

Still, you weren't wearing pants that day, so the whole ordeal wouldn’t be so easy to hide. 

A small whimper left his throat as he leaned forward, placing a wet kiss against your lips. You were looking at him with those big, doll-like eyes of yours, and he couldn’t refuse your request even if he wanted to fill you up so bad. “Awn, you’re so mean,” he whined, forehead touching yours. Every shove of his cock inside you had you bouncing up and down against the wall, that stupid broom threatening to tilt once again. “Can I cum in your mouth, baby?”

You hummed, trying to torture him with a fake thinking session. “Don’t know…” You hesitated. Jungkook cursed against your shoulder, his cock throbbing inside you once again. “Do you have gum?”

“Jesus, woman,” he complained, almost choking on his own pleasure. “Yeah, I have gum. Can I do it?”

You smiled. “Suit yourself.” You had to use all the force inside you to place your hands on his shoulders and push him away. Jungkook almost sobbed when he pulled himself out of your heat, his cock glistening with your wetness, swollen and reddened. “And cum quickly or I’ll kill you.” 

You got to your knees before Jungkook had the chance to respond, your hand wrapping around his base and pumping him tentatively. He bucked his hips towards you, hissing at the sensitivity. “Listen, I’m really fucking close,” he told you, “and I don’t think you’d fancy a facial right now, so stop with that teasing.” 

You chuckled at his comment, fumbling closer to him. “You know me too well.” 

With that, you wrapped your lips around his tip, sinking his member inside your mouth until it almost reached your throat. Jungkook cried out in delight, louder than he had the entire time, and you were sure any passing strangers had heard him. 

Yet your paranoia was forgotten when he started talking. 

“Fuck, that’s it,” he moaned, placing his hand on the back of your head and tugging at your hair. Jungkook guided your movements with little force, watching as you had your fun around his cock — sucking and slurping him like it was the best thing in the world, the tears that accumulated at the corners of your eyes looking like a divine gift to him. “God, I love when you suck my cock, fuck—“ 

You moaned around him, the vibrations feeling like heaven to the boy. With a few more pumps of your mouth around him, Jungkook was coming undone with a loud hiss and a desperate buckle of his hips, calling out your name as he released his cum inside you. “Swallow everything,” his voice was hoarse as he told you that, meeting your watery eyes as you fought to drink every drop of his cum that you could. Jungkook smirked at your efforts, fingers caressing your scalp as you finished cleaning him up. “Good girl.” 

You sighed happily at his praise, taking his hand as he helped you back on your feet. You could only hope that your knees wouldn’t be red by the time that you arrived at your classroom.

“Love watching you with my cock in your mouth, baby.” Jungkook leaned closer to you, wrapping his arms on your lower back. He gifted you with a quick peck on the lips, still breathing hard against your mouth. “I hate that you don’t let me snap a picture.” 

You laughed at that, running one hand through his messy hair in an attempt to save it a bit. In the end, you decided it would be better if he just pushed it back. “I’m not an idiot, believe it or not.” You smiled. “Gum?”

Jungkook nodded and reached for his jacket’s pocket. “Here you go.” He handed you the small colorful wrapping. You promptly threw a piece in your mouth, humming at the sweet taste. He pouted. “You’re going to class like this? You didn’t cum, baby.” 

“I’m aware,” you told him, fixing your panties and skirt. Jungkook didn’t seem to worry about the state of his pants, though, because he didn’t follow your movements. “But I’m not gonna be late to this class, today’s topic is half of what’s gonna be on the test. Pick me up after the lesson and maybe you can deal with my delayed orgasm situation. If I’m feeling nice.” 

Jungkook smirked, pulling your body closer to his. “Hmmm, love when you boss me around.”

He kissed you again and, when the kiss started to get a bit too long for your liking, you pushed him away. “Jungkook, listen, I have two fucking minutes—“ 

“Okay, okay, go.” He rolled his eyes, noticing that his attempts at prolonging your little escapade wouldn’t be fruitful. Jungkook stepped back so he could tug himself back inside his underwear, and you turned around to open the door. As your fingers were curling around the handle, he made sure to add, “Don’t exhaust your wrist with all those notes, princess, you’re gonna need it later.” 

And of course he smacked your ass when you walked out. 

~

Thirty minutes after your class was over, Jungkook was happy to have his face buried between your thighs, eating you out on the backseat of his car. Suddenly, it seemed as if you weren’t so worried about being caught, because he never heard you moan so loud. 

He made a mental note to do that more often.

~

BAD INFLUENCE COLLECTION

[vinniehackedmyheart]

the promise ring - vinnie hacker imagine

summary: vinnie is keeping a secret but not telling what it is can cause some trouble.

warnings: swearing

requested: yes

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requested by brynn3rose on wattpad -  (p.s please send in requests in private messages as its a lot easier for me to see them and be in direct contact with you)

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vinnie absolutely adores you.

there is no one in the whole entire world he would rather wake up to and be with and spend every waking moment on earth than you.

and he had to find a way to show it and prove to you that regardless of what fans may say and what the public and his almost bipolar actions can cause you to think, he wants, no needs you in his life for however you allow him to be in it.

however, as much as he would love to make you his wife and ensure you could never be with anyone else ever, you had had talks before about not wanting to rush the future and staying as young for as long as possible.

and thats how he turned to a promise ring.

he had seen the ideas on tiktok and his father had given his mother one when they were your age and he wanted more than anything for you to admire the one he gives you as much as his mother still does now.

that why he stands there, looking intently over the rows and rows of expensive jewlery with his mother by his side trying to find the perfect on for you.

he knows you love mimimalism and hate his getting extravagant things for you so he eventually settles on a thin-band silver ring with two sapphires on and a tiny infinity symbol engraved on the inside.

"she will love this Vin, im so proud of you" his mother says while motherly scratching her nails on the back of his neck.

he smiles while clutching the small but so meaningfull ring in his fingers as a blush spreads across his cheeks and his neck.

-

a few weeks have gone past and he still hasnt found the right time to give it to you yet.

he feels you deserve more than for a promise ring to be presented as a meer gift and wants to wait until the perfect time when he can gather his words and give you the most powerful and impactful speech he can to ensure you know how much he cares.

in doing so however, he manages to distance himselft from the entirety of the hype house. including you.

every day goes past and you find yourself becoming increasingly more worried about your relationship and whether your boyfriend still loves you or not.

more often than not, you will wake up to a cold bed and fall asleep with no arms wrapped around your middle like normal making you become increasingly more self-aware and self-conscious around him.

light peeks through your blinds flashing over your now open sensitive eyes causing you to squint and stretch, an arm subconsciously moving over to vinnies side of the bed but waves of dissapointment flood your body as you realise the boy you love so much is yet again not with you.

you bite your lips as they threaten to pull into a frown befoore you get out of your bed and open the blinds to see vinnies car gone from his spot on the driveway.

you rub your eyes to clear them of any morning blur before getting dressed into some sweatpants and one of vinnies hoodies deciding to chill and get a few jobs done around the house before he gets back.

when you make your way downstairs you see thomas sat on the kitchen counter reading some mail and eating some breakfast. you smile at him and he returns the gesture before greeting you a good morning.

you turn to the cupboards under the sink and pull out some cleaning products and cloths before taking out the washing from the dryer you washed last night and putting it into a basket and placing the cleaning stuff on top to make it easier to carry.

as you walk back past thomas you stop to ask him a question.

"hey, have you seen vinnie this morning?" you ask tenderly.

"yeah he left about an hour and a half ago" thomas says, putting down whatever he was eating and focusing on you having to pretend he doesnt know that vinnie is out checking to see if there may be a better and more perfect ring than the one currently sat in his draw.

"okay" you say while looking down, "did he say where he was going?"

"no he just kind of left" thomas says in reply and with that you simply nod and leave as all kinds of unimaginable thoughts get placed into your head about what he could possibily be doing that takes up so much of his time.

-

after about an hour, you are finished cleaning your room and are about to put the last few socks in vinnies underwear draw before a voice interrupts you.

"what the f@ck are you doing?!" vinnies voice cuts across the room as he stands in the doorway looking a mixture between nervous, shocked and angry.

"im just putting away clean washing" you say ina confused tone but vinnie appears to hear none of it as he storms over to you and snatches the basket out of your hands and shuts the draw you just opened incredibly quickly causing you to almost get your fingers stuck.

"woah what are you doi-" you go to say, raising your voice slightly but vinnie beats you to it.

"can you just stay out of my things for once and let me have some privacy!" he shouts at you causing you to hold your hands up and walk out of the room with tears threatening to spill out your eyes leaving vinnie sat on the bed with his head clutched between his hands cursing at himself for speaking to you that way.

you run down the large white hallways of the hype house to thomas and mias room and barely knocking before walking in with tears streaming down your face.

"is vinnie cheating on me?" you say to the pair of them breathlessly as they sit on their bed, thomas looking at you as mia rushes to pause the show they were watching.

"what?" thomas says shocked as mia sits there in confusion but worry written all over her face for you.

"i need you to be honest to me, friend to friend now, is vinnie cheating on me?" you ask again, lowering your voice so the man of the hour cant hear.

"dont be ridiculous! of course not, he loves you more than anything in the world." thomas says reasurringly.

"it doesnt feel that way" you say sadly.

"just go and talk to him please" thomas says, hoping his friend realises that now us the right time.

you huff before wiping your eyes and thanking them befroe you make your way to yours and vinnies shared room.

just as you go to push the door open,it swings inwards and you almost crash into the chest of your boyfriend.

"vin you have-"

"i have to talk to you" he says over you before hearing what you said and moving aside to let you in before closing the door after you.

"take a seat on the bed please"he says and you do as you are told and wait for vinnies next move.

he walks over to you and kneels down on the floor before reaching into his underwear draw and pulling out a small blue velvet box.

"now i know what you are thinking and before you say anything hear me out, okay?" he says to you, his voice slightly shaking with nerves.

you find yourself nodding, unable to find the right words to say.

" i am so sorry for earlier first of all, i just got so nervous because i thought you were going to find this and then freak out and panic and i didnt want that to happen" he says taking your hand and looking you dead in the eye.

"its okay" you say before urging him to continue.

"i love you so so much and i want to spend the rest of my life with you. i get that we are too young now but i want to make a promise to you" he says before opening the box and revealing the most gorgeous ring you have ever seen.

"i want to promise you that when the time comes, i will make you my wife and happily live all of my days until i die with you by my side and create a life with you if youd let me" he says and starts smiling as he sees a blush and the smile he loves so much appear on your face.

"so, y/n y/l/n will you accept this promise?"he says while getting the ring out of the box.

"yes!of course i will" you say to him and he lets out a joyous giggle before slipping the ring on your finger and scooping you into his arms and kissing you so pationately he might have sent you ten years into the future as you can see the both of you in black and white attire kissing as you are now on a large dancefloor.

and nothing could get better than this.

-

sorry it was a bit rushed at the end of this but i did my best! let me know what you think <3

[youryanderedaddy]

Okay but the Knight X Reader story.. That was CRISP. I'm wondering, could we get an epilogue or a part 2?? 👀

tw: female reader, mentions of non - con, obsessive behavior, captivity, slavery, kinda sweet?

Life with Raven wasn't as bad as you thought it would be, as long as you managed to detach yourself from reality and keep your eyes and mouth shut. The man's basic needs started with carnal pleasure and ended with hunting, fighting, all barbaric acts yet so entertaining to the tribe. Yes, the warrior was easy to understand and you quickly got used to his desires, but that never made them any less disturbing. It didn't make his stare less intense, his teeth less sharp and his warm embrace less suffocating.

Things were different now, six months into your captivity. You were still expected to be quiet and obedient, a perfect little pet for your master, and even if you decided to test his patience, it simply resulted in more suffering for you, rather than liberty. You had given up on fighing though, it was pointless. The first time you had tried to run away Raven had caught you in an hour. He had purposely let you get close to the nearest civilised village, so close to freedom you could practically feel it in your lungs and taste it on your tongue, only for it to be brutally ripped from you the moment you reached the city gates. The warrior's eyes had turned black while he took you right there, on the ground, in the mud, all while the sky poured its misery in the form of a thunderstorm. For a moment you had been convinced the whole nature was following into the man's anger, each cold drop merging with your hot salty tears into a mess of painfull emotions and even more painful sensations.

"Get it into your thick skull, slave." Raven had growled into your ear with pure venom in his voice while he violated your body mercilessly. "You can never run away from me for you are mine." You couldn't hold back your cries as his lenght pierced through you, splitting you apart with no remorse or guilt. Meaningless to say, this was your first and last escape attempt.

Since then you desperately wanted to survive, to be the only one standing in a world where all of your kind were long dead and gone. You obeyed your master's each command without hesitation, you even went out of your way to remember all of his likes and dislikes so you could win his favor once again and live as comfortably as a slave could. It was surprisingly easy to fool the male and get under his skin just by uttering a few flatters, voicing interest here and there and not trying to kill him in his sleep - something you learnt his own brother had tried to do back in their childhood. Now the soldier was easier to deal with, almost gentle in the way he picked you up before trapping you down underneath his heavy body, cleaning your wounds and letting you rest when you proved unable to do your duties that day. You soon realized the warrior was incredibly lonely despite his strength and power, desperate for affection, validation and honest touch. Unfortunately, it wasn't long before taking advantage of his weakness backfired greatly.

It was dark outside the longhouse you were locked in that night, on the line between late night and early morning, when the sky is clear yet so very dark in colour, shattered vivid stars all over. You were laying on your back, sweaty and tired, pretending to be dead. Your mind was empty, but your body ached too much for you to be able to fall asleep. Raven had just used you hard after a long day of hunting, subjecting you to hours upon hours of rough "play" (as he called it), hushed whispers too vulgar and crude to be repeated even in your mind and countless sweet kisses, harsh bites and blue bruises across your skin. Now he was simply gazing at your sleeping form, taking in your beauty, admiring just how peaceful and sweet you looked when you were tangled in your own world of dreams, far away from his constant abuse and manipulation. The warrior slowly lowered his head and placed a small chaste kiss to your cold temple, muttering "sweet dreams" under his breath. If he had known that you were wide - awake under the mask of a deep slumber, he probably wouldn't have let the following words leave his mouth.

"You are a mere slave." The barbarian mumbled softly as he stroked your damp hair, running his fingers through your locks. A cold shiver ran down your spine at his touch but you forced yourself to remain stock-still. "How did you manage to steal my heart?" The man added after a while, desperation creeping into his voice as he claimed your lips genlty, much gentler than he had before. "I can't help it now, cara mia, I love you." He inhaled deeply and chuckled to himself bitterly. This was the moment you knew you had outdone yourself.

Now there was truly no escape from the enemy's deadly embrace. You could fight lust but you could never win against obsession.