#but i think some wires are getting crossed and I'm seeing something else going on

[bandage-hearted-butterfly]

Literally the most embarrassing thing about having a pouf fictive is suddenly remembering how viscerally annoying I (the person who watched the caa) found komugi

[idkwhatimdoinghere1655]

The Elevator - Charles Leclerc

<word count - 1741>

You had just gotten into the elevator of your apartment building, eyes glued to your phone as you texted a few friends. You knew there was someone else in there, but you didn't pay them much notice. 

As the elevator started to ascend, the lights above you started blinking. The elevator rattled, before grinding to a stiff halt. "Shit," you mumbled, unsure of what to do. The stranger stepped forward to see if he could find the 'open doors' button on the control panel, but he just looked downright confused.

You finally got a good look at him, and he was handsome, to say the least. His dark brown hair was slightly overgrown and his green eyes glowed under the emergency lights of the elevator. "Normally the door button works," he mumbled, pressing the button a few times.

"I think you should probably press the 'get help' button," you explained, looking at him with raised eyebrows. "Yeah, that's probably a good idea," he lightly smiled, pressing the button with no more back-lighting. "And now, we wait," he said, crossing his arms and leaning back against the wall.

"These guys take a while to fix this thing, so we're going to be here for a while," you said, knowing how long the maintenance people took to get to the elevator and find out the problems with it. "You live here?" he asked, trying to make conversation so that it wouldn't be awkward.

"Yeah, I've been here for about a year now, and I have taken the stairs every time apart from today," you said, causing the stranger to chuckle along with you. "What about you? I've never seen you around here before,"

"I'm just here visiting a friend, but I don't think I'll be seeing him anytime soon," he nodded, sighing. Silence settled over the two of you, and there was some sort of tension in the air. Both of you wanted to say something, but neither of you knew what to say.

"So, what's your name?" You asked, his attention averting back to you. 

"I'm Charles, what about you?" he asked back, glad you were getting acquainted.

 "I'm Y/N, it's a pleasure to meet you, Charles," you said, holding your hand out to him for him to shake. You had never done that before, so you were mentally asking yourself why you were being like that. Normally you just smiled or hugged someone, not shook their hand. 

But, Charles was cordial and extended his hand out to you,  shaking it. "The pleasure is all mine, Y/N," he said, something in his eye sparkling as he looked at you.

"So guys, we think the problem is something to do with the wiring, but we'll need to get a team down the elevator shaft to be sure. The minimum time we're going to be able to do that is an hour, the maximum... I don't know. It is a Saturday after all. The cameras aren't working, so if you two want to find a way to entertain yourselves, be my guest. I'll give you a five minute warning," the voice of someone rang out over the speakers.

You and Charles were both visibly creeped out by his suggestion, and you had a feeling that the cameras were in fact working and he was probably just being creepy. "I am perfectly entertained, thank you," you said, as if he could still hear you.

Charles chuckled at your comment, knowing it wouldn't come to that. Probably. 

"We've got an hour, so there's time for a movie or something?" Charles asked, getting his phone out of his pocket. "You don't happen to have any popcorn, do you?" You smiled, taking a seat next to him as he also sat down. 

"No, I don't, but I do have Netflix," he smiled, shuffling up closer to you. 

"It's a good job I have bad habits when it comes to leaving the house," you said, producing a bag of popcorn out of your bag. "Every time I go out, I have to get some from the store around the corner. It's an own-brand, and it is the best," you explained, opening the bag and placing it in-between you. 

"What kind of movies do you like?" Charles asked, taking some popcorn and popping it in his mouth, "This is really good, by the way,"

"I like comedies, or a nice romance. Or even better yet, a rom-com," you told him, taking some of the popcorn yourself, "But whatever you like is fine, I'm not too fussy,"

"Action comedy?" he asked, scrolling through his phone to try and find a movie. 

"Sounds good to me," you nodded, taking your jacket off and making a pillow for yourself out of it. It was a lot better than sitting on the cold floor. "Now that is a good idea," he said, shrugging his jacket off as well. "Can you hold this?" he said, handing you his phone. 

You took it and immediately scrolled to his 'continue watching' section. "You've got good taste here, Charles," you said, looking through what he had. "You've got some classics, The Office, Friends, Drive to Survive? What's that? And why have you only watched like, two random episodes?" 

"Because they're the best ones, they have this guy called Charles Leclerc in them. He's great," he smiled, knowing full well you didn't know who he was. "We have the same first name, it's pretty cool," he smugly smirked, taking his phone back off you. 

"How's Murder Mystery with Adam Sandler and Jennifer Aniston sounding?" he asked.

"Pretty good," you nodded as he clicked play. You both sat there, laughing along to the movie and he had made a pretty good choice. 

"Hello lovebirds! This is your five minute warning. I know the phrase is 'don't come knocking when the elevators' rocking', but we have to do what we have to do," the maintenance guy said over the speaker.

"This guy is so strange," you said to Charles, and he nodded in agreement with a laugh. 

"And very horny," he said, causing a blush to creep up onto your cheeks.

"You got that right," you said, wanting to resume the movie. You stood up to put your jacket back on, since the temperature in there had dropped significantly. You decided you were just going to deal with having a sore behind.

Even with your jacket on, it still wasn't warming you up like you thought it would. You tried not to physically shiver, and Charles noticed. "You alright?" he asked, turning to the side to look at you. "Yeah, just a bit cold,"

"Here, take this," he said, pulling his jacket out from underneath him and draping it over your shoulders. "Are you not cold?"

"No, I'm fine," he said. Sure, it was a bit cold in there, but you looked like you needed it more. You were shivering.

After a bit, you heard some banging and crashing going on above you. "It's either help is here, or the sky is falling down," Charles said, pausing the movie so you didn't get interrupted anymore. 

"Thankfully, or maybe not so thankfully for you two, the issue is nearly resolved and you can be on your merry way in around five minutes," the weird speaker guy said. 

"Does your friend still want you to go over?" you asked.

"Yeah, he said he's made dinner for us," he nodded, as the elevator sprung back into life and whirred into action. It started ascending the apartment block again, and stopped at the floor you had been waiting to go to for hours. 

The doors opened with a ding, and the pair of you stood up from the cold floor. When Charles looked away for a second, you slipped a small piece of folded paper into his jacket pocket. "After you," he said, standing beside the door. 

"Thanks," you said, stepping out and glad to stretch your legs. "You going left or right?" You asked as you stood in the corridor. "I'm going to 118, so that is...?"

"Left. Wait, 118? I live in 116," you said, smiling. 

"You must know my friend, then,"

"I sure do, he's a nice guy," you said, leading the way and walking down the hall. "This is us," you said, standing outside of your apartment door. "Well, I enjoyed spending the world's longest elevator ride with you, Y/N," Charles smiled, standing in front of you. 

"I enjoyed it too, Charles," you said. Charles didn't move, he just stood there with you. 

"Hey, Charles, Y/N," your neighbour said, opening the door to his apartment. 

"Hey, I'll see you later, Charles. I'll let you get to dinner," you smiled, unlocking the door. Charles reluctantly walked away, stepping into the next apartment along. As you took your multiple jackets off, you realised you still had Charles'.

Quickly running out of the door, you knocked on the next door and Charles opened it since he was still in the entrance hall. "Hey, your jacket," you said, handing it to him. "Thanks for that, I needed it," you smiled, turning away.

"Have a nice night, Y/N," Charles said, poking his head out of the door. 

"You too," you chirped, closing your door. 

When Charles went home that night, after taking the stairs, he rummaged around in his pockets to try and find his keys. As he pulled them out, a small piece of paper fluttered to the floor. He picked it up, and unfolded it when he went inside. 

'We should go and get fresh popcorn next time - Y/N,' it said, with your number scrawled on the bottom. He smiled, opening his phone and immediately punching your number into his contacts. He didn't message for a while, but his curiosity got the better of him. 

"Hey Y/N, it's Charles. You free on Sunday? There's a carnival in town and my friend said they make popcorn with any topping you want, would love to go with you," he said, rewriting the message over and over before plucking up the courage and sending it. 

You were about to close your eyes for the night when your phone beeped, and you saw a text from an unknown number. A huge smile spread across your face as you saw who it was from. "Hey Charles, I'd love to go to the carnival. We could walk from mine? Saves you driving all the way," you replied.

Charles was itching with excitement when he saw your text, and was immensely glad to have been in that elevator. Taking the stairs was overrated anyway. 

A/N - Do we want to see Charles and Y/N go to the carnival in town and have popcorn?

|masterlist|

[lostbetweenvampiresandmusic]

This might sound weird so bear with me but what anout a poly lost boys fic with a time traveling reader?

Not weird at all - it is most definitely one of my favourite tropes, and I have written some before:

A girl from 1906 gets stuck in a mirror and gets out when it's 1987

Not really time travel, but their s/o is stuck in a timeloop

A girl from the past gets thrown into the future

With an s/o from the future who misses their cellphone and other modern devices

Paul who has an s/o from the future

A Bill and Ted cross over (there's a part two in the Marko masterlist)

My series Dear Hazel, which doesn't include time travel but someone frozen in time (like they get frozen in 1920 and unfrozen in 1980, so for them there's a time jump?)

So yeah, not a weird question at all! I hope you like this!

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

I had travelled before, once or twice, just to test if it was real. It had gone well, both of these times. The third time, however. I sighed, looking at the debris lying around me, broken pieces of metal spread out over the sandy beach. How this could have happened, I didn't know. This machine I'd built, made from an old motorcycle, was my breakthrough. It had started out simple enough, wanting to fix the bike up so I could ride it. But while fixing it, I got to watching Bill and Ted, Doctor Who, Timeless... you know, timetravel shows. And it got me thinking - what if I could do something like that as well. It took me a little over three years, but in the end, I found a way to travel through time. It was not fool proof, I couldn't quite pinpoint when I would land, but it worked. I had visited the theatre the night Lincoln was assassinated, and then went on to see Elvis shoot his first film. Like I said, it wasn't precise, but it worked.

Now, however, as it laid in pieces around me, I felt horrible. I didn't have a backup plan. All I had was my machine, and now it was broken - probably beyond repair.

"Holy shit what did you do to your bike?"

I looked up, seeing a tall blonde staring at what was left of it.

"Eh," I stood up, wiping the sand off of my pants, "I got in a little accident."

"Yeah, I can see that. Do you need some help fixing it up?"

I stopped to look at him. "Wait, you think it can still be fixed?"

He nodded, looking it over. "Sure, my friends and I have had some worse accidents and still managed to fix them. I'm Paul by the way."

I smiled, introducing myself, as I started to gather the broken pieces. The gold wire I had found that had been the key to the timetravel feature. The diamond particles needed to accelerate quickly enough so I could pass through time. I sighed as I collected them all, getting some curious looks from Paul.

"I'd never seen those used in a bike."

"My bike 's special."

"They all say that."

"I used mine to timetravel."

Paul laughed. "You're full of shit."

"Am not."

"Proof it."

"Sure." I grabbed my phone, glad I charged it before going on this trip. It was still at 80%, and even though there was no connection to think off, it could still show Paul that I was being honest.

"The fuck is that?" He took it from me, holding it close to his face.

"It's my phone."

"Dude, I don't know what you think but this is not a phone."

"No?" I took it back, unlocked it, and showed him. I dialed my mums number - knowing it would ring but no one would pick up.

"It's also a camera."

"You're shitting me."

"Nope." I took a picture of him, frowning when I realised he didn't show up - but the beach and the sea behind him did. I showed it to him, and Paul's look of amazement was one I could have only imagined.

"What else can it do?"

"Play and record videos. Play music. You can play games on it. Read. I don't know, basically everything you want."

"It's a cool thing, but I mean - it doesn't really proof that you're from the future now, does it?"

I shrugged. "Then tell me what year it is, and I'll tell you what I know will happen."

Before Paul could tell me, three other guys walked up to him. One dressed in all black, the other wearing a bright colourful jacket and the last one being the epitome of tall, dark and handsome.

"You guys are not going to believe this," Paul grinned, "they believe they're from the future!"

"I don't believe it, I am from the future."

"Did they hit their head or something?" Marko asked, looking at me.

"Dunno. But if they're telling the truth, it's pretty cool, hm?" Paul grinned, introducing the boys to me, and me in turn to the boys.

"Proof it." David spoke up, causing me to sigh. I handed him my phone, showing him the same things I had shown Paul. I noticed the others looking over his shoulder, curious by the device and its capabilities.

"So you know the future?" Marko looked at me.

"Bits and pieces. What year is it?"

"1987."

I nodded, thinking. "I mean, the next big thing - like big big thing - that will happen is the fall of the Berlin wall, I think? But that isn't till November 1989, so -" I thought for a bit. "What's the date?"

"June 23rd." Dwayne answered. I grinned.

"Okay, so on June 30, Canada will introduce a one dollar coin that is going to be nicknamed the Loonie."

"How did you get here?" David asked, but before I could answer, Paul did.

"They built a freaking timetraveling motorcycle!"

"It's broken now, though."

"So when are you from?" David looked at me.

"2024. Can't recommend it. After the pandemic, things only went to shit even more."

David nodded as if he had expected me to say something along those lines.

"You should stay with us," he continued, "we can help you fix your bike."

"I'd like that," I agreed, quietly wondering how we were supposed to get my broken bike all the way to their place.

Little did I realise that their place wasn't that far off and wasn't an actual house. They lived in an old cave that clearly had been a hotel of some sort before. It was awesome. The boys were welcoming, and even though they had understandably a hard time believing my story, they didn't treat me as if I was insane. Instead, they helped me fix up my bike.

The days passed, and when the thirtiest came and went, and my prediction had come true, they truly started to believe me.

Time passed quickly as we worked on my bike, went to the boardwalk, and had bonfire parties. It was fun. And the more time I spent with them, the more I realised that I really liked them. I had spent so much time worrying about fixing my bike and timemachine that I didn't realise how much I liked them.

It was five months after I met them that the bike was fixed. The parts were put back into place, and I was certain that the time travel parts would work as well. I had bid the boys goodbye, hugging them tightly before I got on. I drove off, speeding up, going faster and faster and faster and -

I crashed. I was dragged over the ground, the trees flashing by me. I saw a tree coming faster and faster my way, feeling certain that I would be folded around it. I closed my eyes bracing for impact - when suddenly someone pulled me up into the air.

"I got you."

I blinked. It was Dwayne. He held me in his arms, flying in the air.

"Y-you're flying?"

"Yeah. We got some things to explain to you."

"You saved me."

"I couldn't let you die like that."

I smiled, feeling my heart melt. He landed on the ground, putting me down and checking me over.

"Are you sure you're alright?"

I nodded. "I am."

"You're back already?" Marko ran out of the cave, hugging me tightly.

"Not really. My bike crashed."

"Maybe your bike is just shitty," David offered as he appeared beside me. I grinned, shaking my head.

"So you're stuck here, then?" Paul looked at me. He had known, as did the others, that I had wanted to go home. Just to make sure I left things well. To make sure everyone would be fine if I did stay behind somewhere.

"I am kind of glad I am, if I am honest." I said quietly as I looked at the four of them. "I don't know if I could have ever found you again."

"You would have!" Marko looked at me.

"I didn't want to leave here, not really. I miss home, sometimes, and I definitely miss my phone and my music and - I can't wait to show you guys my favourite shows and movies. But as much as I miss those things, I don't think I could stand missing any of you four."

The boys surrounded me, pulling me into a hug.

[sailorblossoms-snowbaz]

Baz's raised eyebrow:

(yet another "Simon identifies as 'Baz-sexual' for very good reasons' post)

few things have annoyed me more with these books than when people do not take Simon's "I don't know anything about anything but maybe I'm just a Baz-sexual" comments seriously (dismissing it with a combination of not paying attention to what he's putting down and good old confirmation bias). He even says it in less "goofy" ways with lines such as "he's the only person I have ever wanted" (in the context of thinking about having sex) (note the emphasis on ever) (yes, it's one of the clues saying he didn't want to have it with Agatha, in case it's not clear)

"Like Baz has only ever wanted Simon, Simon has only ever wanted Baz," is necessary to bring up before I get to my point here. I have seen Simon being read as in love or attracted to Agatha ("he must have been or else how they had sex?"... I mean, Simon tells you why it happened without attraction, but even if he didn't, we could make an alphabetized list of reasons it can happen without it, the desire to fit in is no joke) or the idea of Simon liking all sorts of girls, including the girl he pointedly doesn't notice despite her being obvious to others, for the sake of drama and conflict. I have wondered if they don't believe the characters, or if they find the highlighted sentence here boring. "It's boring if the characters only want each other," "in real life people want multiple people" – indeed, but not everyone is wired the same (and why are we stuck on "real life" so much anyway in stories about half-dragon and vampire boys falling in love). But it's not like this sentence is without conflict. Note Baz's eyebrow...

In CO, when Simon says Trixie is cute, Baz's reaction is a boyish "I'm going to puke" comment, which is likely part of how he dealt with jealousy and thinking Simon was straight for years: masking his feelings with "harsh" or sort of "edgy" jokes (probably not the right words to use, but getting too hung up on precise wording is the reason I never finish these posts). In awtwb, Simon calls Pippa cute, and Baz raises an eyebrow...

By those reactions, we could say the idea of Simon calling someone cute because he finds them attractive crosses Baz's mind – or is something he feels in some way, even if the thought doesn't explicitly cross his mind. It's something the reader might assume as well... however, I don't think the way Simon uses cute – which can be used in many different situations – says anything about attraction for him. I mean, a gay man can see a girl being cute or gorgeous as well – Baz certainly does! (attraction is portrayed in these books as thoughts derailed, repetition, sentences being cut off, fixating in a detail no one else notices like they do – you see it with Baz and Simon, Agatha and Niamh, Shepard and Penny. Shep doesn't just call Penny cute – he loses his entire goddamn mind for a whole page about her cuteness and her knees. It's not just a passing comment).

I don't think those scenes when Simon says "cute" is highlighting something about him, other than the fact that he's able to note cuteness. I think it's saying more about Baz's insecurities (I know I once posted something long about it somewhere...) Baz brings attention to it in a way with his reactions... because he's bothered by it. It's something that's sort of hidden and sort of contained, but it's there.

Baz doesn't find himself desirable, partly because of his vampiric nature. But part of it is also about the complicated and messy fear that perhaps... Simon has a problem with being with a man (I know I have unpacked this in other posts, finding them though...). Perhaps "a girl would be better" (It's messier with boys than with girls, it's a thought that comes out before he catches himself with "I don't actually know anything about being with boys or girls".... "I don't know anything about being in a relationship," he says, while still being able to catch there was something wrong with Agatha and Simon's relationship when Simon talks about – because Simon will process things he would rather avoid when it's about opening up to Baz, he wants Baz to know things that would help Baz understand him better, even if he himself would rather not understand... still Baz can't let go of the programming of all those years believing in the golden couple – he has spent a longer time believing that than dating Simon, after all) (Agatha is alive and beautiful, the sort of beauty that's used to "embody" "desirability".... and Baz is "not alive"...) (as a side note, have you noticed the idea – or the actual action – of sex with Agatha is used both with Simon and Baz to indicate a lack of desire toward women?)...

While Simon thinks of Baz as the only person he has ever wanted – Baz is as desirable as it gets for him – Baz struggles with feeling desirable at all. Baz doubts and wonders and has to catch himself – even if he doesn't notice he's doing that. Even if he doesn't consciously think "a beautiful girl who is alive is more preferable than me, a gay male vampire." That is a far more interesting conflict than Baz having legit reasons to be jealous, I think. The fact that he has truly nothing to feel jealous about, and yet... he just can’t help it. It's hard to go against years of programming, of going against the idea that everything about yourself is undesirable and it's better to hide it – another way he matches with Simon. They also match in their insecurities, with small differences: Baz is so amazing and attractive while Simon doesn't feel like he's good enough for him, he can do better than him, etc... while Baz clearly only has eyes for Simon, Simon feels like Baz is merely stuck with him. And the conflict here is that you think "they need to TALK and voice their thoughts for the love of god, what do you mean Baz doesn't know Simon sees him as the love of all his lives??"... talking is not enough. That Simon and Baz only have eyes for each other is not without conflict. Sometimes we need to keep hearing some things, and even then... the fears and insecurities don't go away. Especially when we have spent a really long time believing ourselves to be unwanted, undesirable, something to be hidden. When we have been exposed to things that confirmed those beliefs for longer than we have been exposed to things that challenge them

[vodika-vibes]

Cowboy Casanova

Summary: When you decided to move to the middle of nowhere to get some perspective in your life, you expect to be bored out of your mind. You definitely don’t expect Bacara.

Pairing: Commander Bacara x F!Reader

Word Count: 4123

Warnings: Smut, dom/sub dynamics, biting, hints of a breeding kink

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni @dukeoftheblackstar @kimiheartblade @mire-draws-things

A/N: This started out at one thing, turned into another, which turned into a third thing, and anyway it's now what it was supposed to be so I had to change the name, which makes me sad. The Original name was Save A Horse, Ride A Cowboy. Anyway! I hope you like my sin. Also, this is a western au because...I don't have a reason other than Bacara with a cowboy hat. I'm sorry. Anyway, no requests got done today because of this. Note, this isn't edited - so if you see any errors, no you didn't.

“You’re staring,”

“Am not.” You reply absently as you drag your gaze across Bacara’s bare chest, your eyes lingering first on his dog tags and then on the nipple piercings that he got when he lost a bet.

He chuckles, low and deep, “You’re still staring.”

“If you don’t want to be stared at, then you should put on a shirt.” You counter, unrepentant.

Bacara arches a brow and flings a rag at your face, making you sputter and scrunch up your nose, “You wouldn’t say that if I was staring at you.”

“Of course not. Double standards are a thing after all.”

He rolls his eyes and walks over to you, leaning into your personal space as he picks up his rag again, a smug smirk crossing his face when your gaze drops to his chest and then his waist, before snapping back to his face, “See something you like, city mouse?”

Your face heats, but you keep your gaze locked with his, “Just worried that your pants are going to fall down since they’re hanging so low.”

“Fashion choice,” Bacara replies with a shrug, as he walks away from you and back over to the machine he’s trying to make work, “Besides, it’s hot as balls out here, and I hate the feel of my shirt sticking to my skin.”

Well, he’s not wrong about that.

Bacara leans back into the engine block and reaches in, “Why don’t you just pay someone to come and fix it?” You ask.

“You have the money for some repair man from the city to drive out here and fix this? Cause I sure as hell don’t.”

“You own, like, a dozen cows.”

“There are three dozen of them, actually.”

“That’s not the point that you think it is.”

He laughs and pulls back, “Yeah, yeah. I know. Come here, I need a small hand.”

“I don’t fix things, Bacara.” You warn, though you do hop off the bale of hay that you’ve been sitting on and walk over to him.

“You need to learn, city mouse. What happens if something breaks in your home?”

“Uh, I’ll call you.”

“What if I’m not available?”

“Why wouldn’t you be available?”

“Believe it or not, I don’t exist to come running at your beck and call.” Bacara replies dryly.

“What? Wow! Really?” You marvel sarcastically, and then you yelp when he pinches your side. “Rude!”

“Alright, Little Miss Sass, I need you to reach into there and feel around for any loose wires.” Bacara explains as he presses his chest against your back and points where he needs your help.

“Wires? I’m not going to get electrocuted, am I?” You ask as you try, really, really hard to not get distracted at the feel of him pressed against you.

He shoots you a look, “Of course not. It’s totally safe.”

“Fiiine.” You sigh out as you reach into the opening and feel around blindly, “Um...okay, I found a wire.”

“Excellent work,” His voice is low against your ear, and you can’t help but shiver. Embarrassingly, he notices and a quiet chuckle falls from him, “I need you to follow the wire and tell me if it’s connected on both ends.”

You ignore him, as best as you can, and feel around for a moment, “I...think so? It doesn’t feel loose at least.”

“Damn, I was hoping you’d say the opposite. Alright, pretty girl. You’re done. This is now, officially, someone elses problem.”

You pull your hand out and make a face at the oil on your fingers, “I thought you didn’t want to pay-”

“I don’t, which is why I’ll have Neyo come and fix it.”

“Ripping off your own brothers, shame-”

“What are brothers for if not a little unpaid labor every now and then?” Bacara asks rhetorically, “Come on, you can come inside and get that stuff off your hand.” He picks his hat up off his work table, and pauses before setting it on his head.

He shoots you a small smirk, and drops his hat on your head, it immediately tilts over your eyes, and you use the back of your hand to tilt the rim back so you can look at him, “Well, how do I look?” You ask with a small grin.

Bacara lazily drags his gaze across your body, his smirk growing, “Hot as hell,” He drawls.

Your face heats again. Still, you’re not able to stop the delight from sliding across your face, “Well, thank you~”

He stares at you for a moment longer, and then motions for you to follow him. It’s kind of unnecessary, you could navigate Bacara’s ranch blindfolded and drunk, but you do appreciate being able to walk with him.

After you get yourself cleaned up, which takes a lot longer than you anticipated since the oil just did not want to come off your hands, you meander from the guest bedroom, down the hall, and into the kitchen.

He’s still not wearing a shirt, and you’re beginning to think that he’s walking around like that intentionally. “Did you manage to get the oil off?” Bacara asks as he turns to face you.

“Yeah, eventually. The bottle of special soap was empty, so I had to make some more real quick.” You shrug easily as you sink into one of the chairs at the kitchen table. You don’t mind, you normally make it for him anyway.

Your parents would be so proud. Thousands of credits spent on a fancy Chem degree...and you use it mixing oil removing soap.

“Sorry about that, I should have checked earlier.”

“Don’t worry about it.” You fold your legs under you, and your attention lands on something interesting on the table.

Now. Bacara is a rancher, there’s always new and interesting things laying around his house that he needs to explain to you. Over the year that you’ve been friends with him, you’ve learned a lot about ranching and about the things that he needs to do his job well.

This, however, is new.

“Bacara?” You sound slightly bemused as you reach across the table and hook a finger under, surprisingly silky, maroon rope, “What’s this for?” You ask as you turn your gaze to him.

Unless your eyes are deceiving you, there’s a hint of a blush on his face.

“It’s a joke gift. From Cody.” Bacara replies as he walks over to the table and picks up the rope, only to hesitate for a moment, “Although-” he murmurs quietly, as if to himself, as he pulls some of the rope out and lays it across your wrist, “It would look amazing wrapped around your wrists.”

You tilt your head and your mouth is slightly dry, you’re pretty sure that his comment was meant to be an inside thought, not an outside one, but it’s not like you can unring that bell.

“I think it’d look better wrapped around yours.” You blurt, and his gaze snaps to meet yours, “The color would look amazing against your skin tone.” You add, sheepishly.

He stares at you, and you stare right back at him.

And just as you’re about to apologize, Bacara smirks.

“Alright.”

You blink at him, “Alright?”

“Alright. Lets see what you’re capable of.”

You blink at him again. And then a third time as his words process, “Wait! Really?”

“Really. Unless you think you can’t handle it.”

“I can handle it,” You shoot back, “The question is can you?”

He folds his arms across his broad chest, “Let’s make this a little more fun-”

“-more fun then you getting tied up?”

His grin is predatory and sharp, “I don’t beg. Ever. For anyone.” He advances on you, “However, if you can make me beg in say...an hour, you win this little challenge and I’ll do whatever you want for a week.”

“You already do whatever I want, Bacara.” You point out.

“Unimportant.” He replies, “But when you lose-”

“-if. If I lose-”

His gaze locks with yours and his grin becomes even more predatory, “When you lose,” Bacara repeats, “I get two hours to make you beg for me, and when I win you’ll do whatever I want for a week.”

“Hold on now! How come you get two hours and I only get one?” You demand.

“Because I’m going to spend the first hour with my face buried in your pussy, that’s why.”

Your entire thought process screeches to a halt as your train of thought derails. “...oh.”

“So what do you say, city mouse? Do we have a deal?”

And, really, there’s only one thing you can say to that, “Deal.”

Bacara advances on you again, essentially crowding you, as he walks you through his home and into his bedroom. His eyes a glittering with arousal, but he doesn’t touch you, as much as you can tell that he wants to.

He kicks the bedroom door shut and turns on the lamp so there’s some light in the room, and then he folds his arms and waits.

You gaze at him thoughtfully, a small smile on your lips, “You’re wearing too much. Strip.”

His gaze is hot as it lingers on your face, “Yes ma’am,”

You consider watching him strip for a moment, but instead turn to the bed and start setting up the rope, while pulling out your phone to look up safe ways to tie him up.

“Alright,” You murmur to yourself as you make sure the ropes are secure around the bed frame, and you climb off the bed to focus your attention on him, “Pick a position that’s comfortable for you, Bacara.” You say as you carefully don’t take your eyes off his face.

“Not even gonna steal a peek, kitten?” Bacara asks, as he moves passed you and settles on the bed, with his back pressed against the headboard.

“I lady doesn’t peek, Bacara,” You sniff.

“Oh? Do they tie up their friends.”

“I can leave you know.”

He laughs and grabs your wrist to tug you onto the bed, you tumble against him, your hands settling on his shoulders, as he reaches around you to settle his hand on the back of your neck, “I want you to look, kitten. After all, I need to know if I meet your approval.” You have to shift to get more comfortable, eventually straddling his thigh so you’re not twisted uncomfortably.

You roll your eyes, but slowly drag your gaze down his chest, a nearly silent sigh of delight falling from you when you see that he’s still wearing his dog tags. Bacara chuckles lowly, and you hurriedly continue your visual perusal of the man beneath you.

He’s solid, your Bacara. Oh sure, he has a belly, but you’re pretty sure that he’s solid muscle, like the professional weight lifters you used to know in college. Big, beefy, and could lift you with one arm if he was so inclined.

Absently you trail your fingers down his chest, teasingly skirting around the nipple piercings, and down his stomach, and then your gaze lands on his cock.

Already erect and with precum leaking from the head.

He’s gorgeous.

But that’s not what catches your attention. No. What catches your attention is the golden piercings.

You blink at the piercings dumbly for a moment. “Holy shit Bacara.” You blurt, “Why didn’t you say that you had cock piercings?”

“Not really something that comes up in polite conversations,” He counters with a grin.

“But...If I had know then my-” You cut yourself off before you finish the thought, and you snap your gaze to his face, “Never mind.”

“Oh no, you definitely need to finish that thought, kitten.” Bacara practically purrs, “Come on, your what?”

“Nope. Not going there.” You shift your weight slightly, and reach down to grab his wrist, but Bacara doesn’t let you move it. “Really?”

He smirks, “Tell me, and I’ll let you tie me up.”

“Don’t you automatically lose if you don’t let me even try?” You try to bargain.

His smirk widens, “No, because I saw that look on your face. You want my face in your pussy.”

Damn him for being right.

“Fine,” You drag the word out, “I might have fantasized about you before. Maybe.”

He smirks smugly, “Knew it. Alright, you may continue.”

“I’m pretty sure that I’m supposed to be the one in control right now.” You counter, even as you bring his hand to the headboard and carefully loop the rope around his wrist.

Bacara hums and his still free hand comes up to caress your hip, “Oh, kitten. I need you to understand that I’m letting you do this. But I need you to know that I’m the one in control here, not you.”

Your fingers slip on the rope, “I’m going to pretend that you didn’t say that for the sake of the challenge.” You finally say once you finish with your knot, “How’s that? Too tight?”

Bacara tugs at the rope experimentally, “Good enough.” He finally says, as he lifts his other hand to the headboard.

You’re a lot faster this time, now that you know what you’re doing, and you sit back on your heels as you look at him. “I was right,” You finally say as you climb off of him so you’re able to peel your own clothes off.

“Bout what?” Bacara asks as he watches you strip with hungry eyes.

“That color does look amazing against your skin.”

He hums his understanding, tilting his head so he’s able to watch you push your shorts and panties down your legs. “I can just about guarantee that it’s going to look much better against yours.”

You set your clothes on a chair and climb on the end of the bed, settling yourself between his feet.

Bacara looks completely relaxed, and you’re beginning to accept that he was right, he is the one in control here, as much as it might seem like you are. “Just gonna sit there and stare at me, kitten?” He drawls.

“I’m thinking.”

“Do you need some direction?” He offers, “Because I can do that.”

“I’m not giving up yet, Bacara.” You counter as you slide up so that you’re better able to reach him, your fingers feather light as you glide them across his thigh.

His muscle twitches under your touch, “Yet, huh.” Bacara says with a small smirk, “Good to know.”

Finally fed up with his comments, you surge up and crash your lips against his. Your hands wander across his chest, lightly flicking his piercings, as you trail your tongue across his lower lip.

You’re almost surprised when he takes control of the kiss.

Almost.

He catches your lower lip between his teeth, and nips you roughly enough that a squeak falls from you. Bacara then soothes the sore spot with a lazy swipe of his tongue, and the moment you part your lips for him, his tongue slides against your own.

He maps out your mouth with a single minded intensity that leaves you moaning, and encourages you to straddle him again. When you break the kiss, you’re slightly breathless, and his gaze is dark as is slides across your face.

“You should give up, kitten.” Bacara purrs.

You shake your head, “I can still win.”

He laughs, “You’re already straddling me, and we haven’t done much more than kissing.”

“That-”

“I’ll make you feel so good, kitten.” He purrs as he tugs his wrist once, causing the knot to unravel. He presses his hand against the small of your back, and pulls you closer, and you shiver when you feel his hard erection pressed against you.

Unthinkingly, you grind against him, the head of his cock pressing deliciously against your clit and a moan fall from your lips as you do so.

His arm hooks tightly around your waist, and he pulls you closer so that he’s able to trail his lips against your throat, “Say you give up, kitten. And I’ll give you exactly what you need.”

Your lips turn down into a small pout.

“We can try this again later,” He promises, very temptingly, “After you’ve had some time to prepare properly.”

You peer at him, and then release a heavy sigh, and reach up to untie his other hand, “This isn’t me giving up.”

“Of course not.” Bacara agrees, suspiciously easily, “But, it is you forfeiting, which means it’s my turn.”

You squeak as he flips you so that you’re under him, smoothly using one hand to pin your hand over your head and tying them together and to the headboard.

Bemused, you tug on the ropes, but there’s no give whatsoever, “How-”

“Practice. I’ll teach you properly for next time.”

“...this game was designed for me to lose from the get go, wasn’t it.”

He grins and leans over you, his lips hovering just over yours, “Good girl, I knew you’d figure it out eventually.”

“You’re a dick.”

“Not gonna deny that.” He replies before he kisses you deeply, but quickly.

And then he’s moving down your body, biting marks into the soft skin of your neck and throat, across your collar, and down your chest. You squirm and writhe under his attention, biting your lower lip to keep yourself quiet.

He takes a quick moment to lavish your nipples with attention, before he’s moving again. At this, you’re unable to keep yourself from gasping out his name, and you feel his lips curl up into a smile against your breast.

Bacara litters your stomach and sides with possessive marks and then he leaves a trail of bite marks from your hip to your thighs. By this point, you’re a moaning mess, you don’t care if this means that he wins, you just don’t want him to stop.

And only then, when he’s sure that you’re covered in his marks, and when you’re whining for him, does he spread your legs to make room for himself between your thighs.

“Look at you,” Bacara praises lightly as he drags a single finger between your folds, a pleased smirk crossing his face as your hips twitch towards him, “You’re already wet. Do you have a biting kink, kitten?”

Your face burns at his words, and you stubbornly press your lips together to not say anything.

Bacara clicks his tongue, and his hand lands, heavily, on your outer thigh. It surprises you more than it hurts you, and you blink at him wide eyed, “I asked you a question.”

You know what he wants to hear. Even though you’re so horny that you almost can’t stand it. Even though his large, calloused finger is circling your clit in a way that is kind of driving you insane. You still know what he wants to hear.

What he’s expecting to hear.

Your tongue darts out to wet your dry lips, and you plaster on your most innocent expression, “Did you?” You ask, slightly breathlessly as you clench around nothing from his teasing, “I wasn’t listening.”

Bacara stops. His fingers stop moving, and his hand, which was caressing your thigh and the red mark blooming there, stops moving as well. He searches your face for something, and then a slow smirk crosses his lips.

“Safe word or color?”

Your heart racing with excitement, you breath out, “Color.”

He hums, “What color are you?”

“Green.” You blurt, “Very green.”

For a moment, there’s a glimmer of something warm and soft on his handsome face, before it’s gone. “So, it sounds like you are able to listen.”

“When I want to.”

“Then it sounds like I just need to teach you that you need to listen to me, doesn’t it?”

You feel a thrill of delight, “If you ever said anything worth listening to-” You words get cut off with a ragged moan as he suddenly thrusts a finger into your pussy and curls it, almost instinctively finding the spot deep inside you that makes you see stars.

“I’m going to tell you how this is going to go,” Bacara says, a hint of promise in his voice, “I’m going to give you as many orgasms as I want, you are only allowed to cum when I allow it.” He eases his finger out of your pussy, and licks it clean with an appreciative hum, “And, if you don’t obey me, I’ll have to punish you.”

“Punish?” You ask.

He just smirks, “Do you understand? Answer verbally.”

“I understand,”

“Good girl,” He gives himself a couple of lazy strokes as he examines your splayed out body appreciatively. “I did say that I was going to bury my face in your pussy, didn’t I.” He muses, loud enough that you’re able to hear him, “But I don’t think you’ve earned that.”

That pulls an unhappy noise from your lips, and he chuckles, “Only good girls get to have their pussy eaten, and you haven’t been a good girl.” He releases your legs, letting them fall back to the bed, before he reaches up to check the ropes one more time, and then flips you, making sure that the ropes didn’t twist in such a way to hurt you. “There we go,” Bacara murmurs as he smooths his hand over your ass and then squeezes roughly

You squirm under him, but settle when you feel his hand press against your lower back. He quickly eases a pillow under your hips and adjusts your legs so that you’re spread wide for him.

He doesn’t touch you for a moment, though you can feel his heavy gaze dragging against you body. Just as you start to squirm, a little self conscious about being so exposed, his hands are on you again.

His hands are calloused and heavy on your body, and you’re sure you’re going to have bruises from his hands covering your body, but you can’t seem to bring yourself to care as his hands press into you.

And then you don’t care about anything as the blunt head of his cock presses against you. Slowly he eases inch after inch inside you, and you’re squirming and whining before he’s even halfway sheathed.

The piercing feels amazing inside you, and you find yourself clenching around him.

Bacara groans and bites down on the back of your neck, “No cumming, kitten.” He warns as he slowly pushes the rest of the way in. As soon as he’s bottomed out, he presses a light kiss to the mark on the back of your neck.

He doesn’t move for a moment, and then he slowly eases out, until only the head of his cock is inside you. Bacara waits a beat, until you squirm to try and get him to move again, and then he thrusts in hard and fast.

He keeps the rapid pace, his breath hot against your ear, his hand fisted in your hair to keep your head down.

The sensations of his hand in your hair, and low groans in your ear, adding to the amazing feeling of his piercings dragging against your walls and the delicious stretch of his cock, are too much to handle.

And try as you might, you’re not able to keep yourself from cumming with a cry of his name.

You feel him laugh, “That’s punishment 1, kitten.”

“Not my fault-” You gasp, “Feels too good.”

“Oh? What’s that? Harder you said?” Bacara asks, as he adjusts himself slightly, before he leans in and catches your earlobe between his teeth. Before he does exactly as he warned, thrusting hard enough that you release a noise that is something between a moan and a sob of sheer pleasure.

“Good girl,” Bacara purrs, “You’re taking me so well.” He smooths his hand up your spine, “Such a willing little thing,” He coos in your ear, “I’m going to ruin you, kitten.” He catches your lips in a deep kiss, his tongue sliding against yours.

��Please,” You whisper, “Please ruin me.”

For half a moment, Bacara’s hips stutter, and he releases a deep groan. “Oh, princess. Gladly.” He pulls out completely, pulling a disapproving whine from your lips and then he flips you back onto your back, before he thrusts back into you hard and fast. “I’m going to stuff you full of my cum, princess.” He promises, “Over and over and over, until I’m good and done.”

“Cara-” You whine his name as you arch against him as best as you can.

“So, be my good girl and take all of me,” He orders as he leans in and catches your lips in a passionate kiss, “Be my good girl, and I’ll ruin you.” He promises, his gaze dark.

And, really, how can you do anything other than obey him after that promise.

[rodolfoparras]

angels I hope you do get better there !! sprinkling some of the smut here to help you feel better, AGAIN INSPIRED BY YOUR PERVERT PRICE DRABBLES CUZ BY LORD I'm boutta yeet myself across time and space (help me AAA)

You've been working in the Task Force 141 team for awhile now— having given a chance to unveil yourself at the field with skills you've honed over the years is such a wonderful feeling. You find yourself fortunate to be working with some of the most finest, open-minded people over there, and recently work, the missions have been rougher around the edges. It's nothing you can't handle of. Except for one: the captain himself, John Price.

Now, you find him fascinating— the man is THE brilliant man, having lead through the plans with precision and professionalism, his tactics and skills are handy by time. One of the many reason you've come to respect and admire the male. But little do you know that Price is.. rather infatuated with you. Do you even notice how he always sticks to you whenever you both training or practice shooting together? How your clothes always seems to disappear whenever Price had come by to drink whiskey with you? How he'd always crossed his legs together whenever you're with him?

You do notice Price started to wear a throat mic when the heli is taking the team towards the location, and how some of the wiring bits are all tangled up.

"Hey, Cap, need help with that?" You gestures towards the item, and he looked confused as he tries to check it with his hand. "Here let me help."

Did you know that he purposely fuck it up so he can get your hands around him? Once he saw Graves (he rather not mentioned that name) wore it when they worked together before, immediately the idea of it resembling a collar made him blush, and with how your big hands almsot wrapped around his throat, fuck does he wishes you can punish him for being a bad, horny dog.

Want to know something that's even more dangerous? He's wearing a cage of your favourite colour. Little cute one, pushing his big cock to the smallest size. Hey, it helps by covering his erection, and while before he didn't think he could get it up again, just the voice of you booming through the base and teaching the recruits, is enough to make him hard and fuck himself on his finger (How convenient that his office window has the direct view of the training ground) Did he take the cage off? No, the only time he did was to pissed and god, he's getting hard again at the thought of how your piss would taste like. Bitterness from the coffee or the sweetness of your desserts?

The only time you almost catch him is when you had to ask for the report of the recent mission, and before you could knock on his room door, (he's nowhere by the office or anywhere else at the base) you can hear some sort of noise— oh,you're not that daft to not know.

"F— Fuck Daddy! I can't, you're too big.." You fucking hate how that nickname earned a twitch from your cock, and how you shouldn't be listening in, whoever Price is with not of your concern. "Have no mercy one me.."

The sounds of skin slapping skin is enough for you to palm your hardening cock under your cargo pants, looking around to see if there's any soldiers passing by. That is until you heard a title, your title. With your name.

"Yes, yes, put me in my place! I'm your toy, AH! Use me, mark me.." God the filth of that mouth..

The moment he screamed daddy again, you had accidentally spilled all over your boxer and rushes towards your room.

He does noticed how you kept getting flustered around him the day after, clueless to your eardrops act, but he does love how his object of obsession keep crossing his legs as he does now. Oh the tension, Price rather love that and he thinks he's gonna play the pervert captain role for MUCH longer.

-🪂 anon

I AM GOING TO GO FUCKING INSSANE JESUS CHRIST HONEY BEE????:;!: I GENUINELY DONT KNOW WHAT TO SAY TO THIS EXCEPT FOR THE FSCT THAT OTS THE HOTTESR THINH IVE READ??? Let me reeead this a couple of times before I speak more in it there’s genuinely so many parts of this that I need to just soak up for a good moment

[allwormdiet]

Arc 7: Buzz, Concluding Thoughts

Jesus fucking Christ

Man, remember when it was just Taylor and Rachel hanging out with like twenty dogs? I miss that. Can we go back to that. Please.

God it's so sad to see that Taylor is legitimately the first Undersider to make any inroads with Rachel and now that progress might have been well and truly fucked by her departure

It was cool to see Taylor developing more with her powers, figuring out new ways to use it. Also very cool of her to stab a fucking Nazi in the hand.

Another reminder that Taylor's bullies are all fucking maniacs, and also that Taylor's newfound confidence is seeing some unintended consequences.

Brian... okay. The kiss was really presumptive on Taylor's part, that sucks and that's not on him. But that man's got his wires crossed something fierce if his "sisterly affection" for Taylor reads as romantic attraction not just to Taylor's desperately lonely self (which, easy to fool I think) but also Lisa's interpersonal capabilities. Like, the social manipulation power thinks you're hot for her, my guy, what's that supposed to mean?

(Also what the hell would Aisha think if she heard the sister line, like for real)

Fuck the Empire, fuck Purity, fuck all of these Nazi rat bastards, I hope the Endbringer eats them all because apparently that's what we have to rely on for sticking it to them when the Protectorate can't send in one assist to put literally any of these guys away.

No significant gripes about the actual fights against the Empire, taking down Stormtiger and Cricket (plus fending off Hookwolf) was very cool, and the rooftop tangle with Rune and the alley fight with Night and Fog had some really neat and tense moments.

And then there's fucking Coil. I fucking hate this guy so much, he's so stupid and so cruel and for fucking what. Being the mayor of crime? And the mayor of heroes? And the boss of the actual mayor? What the fuck is even his problem, truly. Can't even doxx a bunch of Nazis without almost getting his subordinates killed, and when they confront him about it his defense is basically "i forgor," what the hell.

Dinah's scene is good in one specific and interesting way, providing both short-term information about Skitter's mounting dissatisfaction and the slightly longer-term information about the approaching Endbringer, but it just. Mm. Dinah's written weirdly, like that's not how twelve-year-olds talk. And I hate every word that Coil says to her.

Skitter's departure from the team is hard to read and hard to reread, honestly. She just. She finally had something going right in her life, for once, and she was willing to gamble everything on that continuing to go right. And she lost. And now she has to go back to them with the weight of that confrontation, that departure, hanging over every interaction, because she's doing what a hero would do.

Getting insights into Miss Militia and more of a look at the Protectorate was interesting, but mostly it's just pity for Hana and, yet again, concern about Armsmaster. Mfer can't stop coming off as concerning.

So, I was told by some friends that when the sirens start is a good time to consider the end of "Part One" of Worm. The Endbringer comes with a significant change in status quo, although I only know some of the details, so if I'm going to ruminate on the story so far, this is the time for it.

I might do that tonight or else give myself time to ruminate on it. We'll see how it goes.

[kyliafanfiction]

Amy's crush on Vicky and her self-loathing over it is such an interesting thing.

Because like, if Vicky had also natively developed a crush on Amy and at some point realized Amy had feelings for her, and then Vicky actually like, went and talked to Amy about it, etc -

Amy's first instinct (under anything resembling her pre-Bonesaw mental state) would of course be a panic attack, right? She'd assume she changed Vicky's brain at some point without anyone realizing it. She might even try to 'fix' Vicky before anyone finds out (especially Vicky or Carol). Assuming she doesn't do that, I'm still not sure she actually like... jumps into this prospect headfirst.

Like, eventually, sure, if Vicky convinces Amy this was genuine and not Amy accidentally mastering her, Amy's probably still convinced she somehow tainted or ruined Vicky, and she's probably still not going to want to act on anything, though I think Vicky could probably soothe her fears and convince her (not in like, an undue pressure way, I'm not saying Vicky would do that) eventually.

But though I've read fics where Amy acts like Vicky being straight or even just 'Vicky sees me as just a sister and wouldn't return my feelings because of that' are the primary obstacles to her and Vicky flying off into the sunset together (though they're obstacles she still doesn't want to use her powers to bypass), I think the biggest obstacle is her own self-loathing, shame and disgust for her feelings.

Which of course, is honestly a bit silly. Like, crushing on your sister isn't necessarily normal, but incest is a very popular porn category. And Vicky is her adopted sister, so that's slight less abnormal - slightly. And like, as far as ill-advised desires and crushes go, crushing on your maybe a few months older sister is like, one of the least bad option. Of course, the fact that Amy has the ability to force the issue thanks to her powers is what makes this abnormal and then that ties in all her power-related issues.

I mean, there's a lot worse things Amy could desire. It's not uncommon in smutty fics for Amy to have like, really off-the-hook body horror kinks and stuff too, which - I can see, but we don't know if she's into that in canon... unless you think the Wretch was a manifestation of Amy having a Shoggoth kink or whatever (I don't, and Ward's implications she does can be safely put away, tyvm). Amy could have a vore kink, or be one of those people who have a lot of crossed wires between sex and violence (to dangerous extents) or whatever.

Of course, telling Amy that 'you could have more unnatural desires, your crush on your sister is pretty milquetoast as far as 'deviant' desires go, just check the dark corners of the internet (or, you know, any random ao3 fic)' doesn't really work. It would be nice if it would, because Amy badly needs some perspective (as I noted during my live reaction to 11h, while Marquis was unquestionably a criminal and a killer, given all the other villains active at the time in the Bay that could have been her mysterious villain parent, Marquis is probably one of the better options. I read one fic where Carol accidentally gave Amy the impression one of the Butchers was her father, for instance), but she's got such a dense and interlocking network of issues that she wouldn't be able to accept that perspective on it's own.

If something else managed to crack the outer layers of her issues, then maybe some perspective could help her at that point, but Amy is so convinced that she is uniquely monstrous and terrible (Thank you, Carol) that pointing out that 'on balance, you're almost normal, relatively speaking' wouldn't get through the armor of her self-loathing and shame.

[punks-never-die205]

What do you think the Kid pirates think about religion? Like to me they seem like they'd be either satanists (the proper version and not the bullshit kind), atheists or pagan or something🤔or a mix of everything?

Hmmm....

I'd have to lean toward the Satanist vibes, honestly. While not 100% eye for an eye, the vibes are similar. Hate what deserves it, love what deserves it, etc. (I am super simplifying because I'm not trying to make the entire post about it XD -- but I know you mean the "not devil worship")

It aligns well with what they've shown us in the show.

I feel like there's some [Catholicism] in what they believe - since we see Bibles and nuns with some regularity in the world, I'd imagine that's the "proper" religion, whatever it happens to be called. Something like that edges its way into a lot of social and cultural practices on purposes.

Which is to say, I feel like they'd celebrate Christmas, but I don't think anyone's going to church on Sunday unless they feel like it for whatever reason.

Heat, I think, probably has the closest to religious vibes - but I only think that cause I head canon him having a big family. Big families tend to fall into popular religion for a lot of reasons, but the structure is often useful. I feel like it was pretty relaxed though, and not orthodox or strict.

He probably looks to the sky and makes a cross when he's convinced the captain's about to get them all killed, but he's not kneeling at an enemy's corpse and lighting candles while he prays.

House is stoutly atheist, but she doesn't hold faith against anyone. Killer might actually be the only one of the crew who even knows that fact about her.

Kid has faith, I think, but it sits in the back of his mind and he doesn't worry about the details of it. In form and function it's probably more pagan and earthy than anything else.

Wire could recite the WG's Bible, but I can't say I think he believes any of it. He's too apathetic to be religious or anti-religious, but I think he has a head full of like a dozen different religions or more. He vibes with a few recurring ideals, but that's about it.

[unseededtoast]

Turtle Doves | Joel Miller

Part Eight

Chapter Directory

Series Summary: In which two broken souls connect so deeply, that if one should perish, the other would surely die of a broken heart. (slow burn, timeline changes. After TLOU1, before TLOU2, assumed knowledge of infected, uses elements from both show and game)

Series Warnings: Graphic depictions of violence, death, and sexual content.

Also cross-posted on Wattpad and AO3. Link to my masterlist for everything else I’ve posted!

Though he is a man of few words, his actions speak for his character.

Heading west, I keep walking through the night, though it's less than ideal. I take my time, wanting to stay quiet and undetected by both infected and people. The silence of the night allows my mind to mull over what I found today and how everything is supposed to fit together.

My mind can't seem to figure anything out that makes sense. The map is the only thing that makes the most sense to me. The notes, the game tallies, they all seem so odd but there has to be some connection. There has to be some reason these people were tasked with killing a specific age range of children in QZ's across the country. There has to be some reason they're connected to the Fireflies. I'm seeing bits and pieces of the picture, but not the full painting.

But what if this is all a bit bigger than I can take on? Am I walking myself right towards a death sentence? Maybe. Could I be making the wrong decision to go to Nebraska? Possibly.

The other alternatives are either to retreat back to the QZ and be stuck wondering for the rest of my life, or try to track down which QZ the others went to, and I could miss them and have wasted time. But if I guess which QZ they're going to next, I could possibly save more lives. I've never been good at gambling, and yet I find myself playing at the highest stakes.

Each step seems to take ten times the effort as normal as I consider my options, trying to see which is the most logical, which would give me the best odds of finding these people. As soon as I think I've made a decision, I second guess myself. It feels like there's no right decision to be made.

I stop walking in the middle of a street and stare straight up at the dark sky, the stars shining brightly down. If only they could give me the answer. The sound of a clicker in a nearby skyscraper gets me moving again, towards the interstate. It seems I've made up my mind, and only time will tell if this was the right decision.

Readjusting my backpack and yawning, I take in my surroundings so that I'm not ambushed by infected. Sometimes it seems like they come out of nowhere. My thoughts seem to run in circles until it starts to drive me mad. I have to think of something else or I'm going to go insane. And after searching for something, the green sign above the road distracts my mind and reminds me of the stranger I met only yesterday.

I wonder how Joel is doing, how his journey is going so far. He seemed seasoned to life outside a QZ, his time away from Boston likely forced him to adapt. Whatever job it was that he took to get out of Boston must have caused him to not want to return. But no matter the reason, I hope that he has a safe journey, I'm sure whoever is waiting for him is worried sick.

My path leads me to a roadblock where an old FEDRA checkpoint used to be, just before the entrance ramp of the highway. Cars are parked bumper to bumper and there's sandbags stacked on top of each other supporting a thick line of barbed wire. Knowing I can't climb overtop of it, I take a right and decide to go around. Sure, this is going to delay my trip slightly, but it's better than trying to go overtop of barbed wire. I don't really feel like nursing open wounds on my way to Nebraska.

As I go to turn left to get back on track I immediately stop moving. Standing in the street are three runners, all hunched over with quiet sobs. A clicker cries out somewhere close, its screeches ricochet off the buildings and echoes into the open air. My heart hammers in my chest and I take careful steps backwards so that I can keep my eyes on them. Thankfully, they don't see me and I'm able to get back to the front of the barricade.

I take a left instead, and hope for a better outcome. Bracing myself, I turn the corner and am in disbelief with what I see. There are four runners standing in the road. My eyes trail down the street and I see that they're all trapped here. The FEDRA barricade extends down the streets so that the infected in the Boston area can't use this ramp to get onto the highway. On one of the barricade sections I see the telltale sign of a door, there's a giant FEDRA sign hanging above it. That door would be a direct path to the road if it weren't for the infected. It seems that there's no unobstructed way for me to get to the highway. I'm up against seven runners and a clicker, at least. Even during the day I don't know if I could take this on.

Ducking back behind the building I try to formulate some sort of plan. How can I get through this barricade without the infected noticing me? I know the door is to the left, but there's no way I can get past all of those infected and open it. Even if I do sneak to the door, I know it's going to make sound when I open it, and that's like ringing the dinner bell for them.

Sound would be like ringing a dinner bell. An idea comes to my mind and I spot an abundance of bricks laying beside one of the cars. If I can get those bricks to all fall at the same time across the street, it should draw them away long enough for me to get to the door. It's still risky, but I think it's my best shot. But how do I get them to fall at the same time?

I don't see a way that I can pull that plan off without considerable time, and I don't have time to be stopped up here, not with all the infected. I stare at the pile of bricks and another idea crosses my mind. What if I use them to get over the barricade? I could lay the bricks in a way that I could get over the barbed wire. It might not be the most sophisticated plan, but it's going to have to work.

Quietly, I walk over to the pile and begin picking them up slowly. The barricade is at least six feet high, so I'm going to have to bring bricks up to the top of the sandbags and lay them there before I can construct something over the wire. I slide my backpack off my shoulders so that it's easier to get the bricks to the top of the barricade. Clutching three bricks under one arm, I climb the sandbags and drop them on top. Thankfully, the sand masks the sound of the bricks landing.

I take another trip up with three more bricks without incident, and feel more confident in my plan. On my last trip up with bricks, I drop them on the sandbags, but one of them hits the corner and falls down to the road with a loud crash. The infected hear it and I can tell they're rushing to investigate. I drop down to the road to pick up my backpack and see them coming towards me on both sides. Shit.

With the speed of lighting, I put my backpack on and start climbing the sandbags. I hear them getting closer as I reach the top, their carnal breaths loud in the night. I'm about two inches away from pulling myself to the top when I feel one of them grab my foot and it yanks me down.

My fingers slip on the sandbags and I fall a few inches before I'm able to grab ahold of something. Wildly, I kick my feet in an attempt to get them off of me, but there are too many. In a last ditch effort, I grab my gun from my thigh holster and shoot the ones who drag me down. The shots ring out in the night and I know it's only going to attract more.

The few runners I've shot collapse to the ground, which gives the clicker more space to reach for me. Clickers are infinitely more terrifying than runners, and they're about ten times stronger too. Runners take one bullet to kill, clickers can take at least two or three. I aim my gun towards the clicker and pull the trigger, but it just clicks. It's empty. Quickly, I shove the gun back in the holster and use both hands to grab onto the sandbags.

Adrenaline pumps in my veins and I fight harder to pull myself away from the feral infected. My pant leg rips at the bottom from their clawing and I feel my fingers beginning to slip. Clenching my eyes shut, I grit my teeth and pull with all my might to get away.

Just as I'm about to accept my fate, a shot rings out and one of the infected crumples to the ground. Four more shots hit the clicker, and it falls as well, body twitching on top of the others. Without thinking I pull myself on top of the barricade and whip my head from side to side to see who shot them. I grab my curved knife from my belt and hold it in front of me.

My chest heaves with each breath I take as the adrenaline begins wearing off and the panic sets in. Whoever shot them could be coming for me next. What if it's the T group?

From the shadows I see a figure approaching, slinging a gun behind them as they quickly jog towards me. Once they get close enough, I recognize who it is immediately. It's Joel.

He runs to the barricade and holds out a hand. I put my knife away and offer him my help up the sandbags. We both start using the bricks to construct a makeshift bridge across the barbed wire, the screeches of a dozen approaching infected rushing our movements. Joel takes bricks from my shaking hands and practically stands me up on his own and pushes me across the bridge, my other pant leg ripping from the barbs.

My feet hit the ground with a hard thud, quickly followed by Joel. His hands push on the back of my backpack and one word is clear over the coming stampede.

"Run." We take off sprinting down the highway's entrance ramp. He's slightly faster than me but I keep up well. Joel points to an abandoned car that crashed into a guard rail and I nod, showing him I understand the plan.

We yank open the doors and climb in. If the infected make it over the barricade, they shouldn't see us here and eventually will disperse. The two of us are out of breath and we sit in silence, trying to regain our bearings.

After a few minutes of steadying my breath, I take my backpack off and sit it in my lap. I rest my head on it and lean forward, closing my eyes in an attempt to calm myself down.

"Thank you." I say, slightly breathless. Raising my head from my backpack, I look over to Joel, who's glancing in the mirrors to see what's behind us. His eyes flicker to mine and he gives me a stern nod, opting to stay quiet.

If it weren't for him I'd be some infected's dinner. That fact sinks in and I feel an immense amount of gratitude. He didn't have to save me. He could've left me for dead. Most people wouldn't stick their neck out for someone they barely know, but he did. Though he is a man of few words, his actions speak for his character.

My gaze turns to the mirrors as well, the two of us anxiously wait to see if the infected are going to make it over. The runners would have no issue scaling the wall given the proper motivation to do so, but they're less likely to if they can't immediately see something that grabs their attention.

After hours of us hunkering down silently in the car, Joel opens his door and gets out. He slings his bag and rifle on his back, looking behind him one more time. I get out and gear up as well. And just like the first time I met him, the silence is almost overwhelming. The morning sunlight begins rising, and I realize we spent almost the entire night in the car.

I chew on the inside of my cheek as I debate whether or not I should say anything. Seeing as how he just saved my life, I decide it's the least I can do. I clear my throat and scratch the back of my neck, looking down at the ground to avoid awkward eye contact.

"I just want to thank you again for saving me back there. You really didn't have to put yourself at risk, but I appreciate it." I find the courage to look up, only to see him staring at me already with a fierce intensity.

"I thought you were headed towards that camp?" He asks, totally disregarding my appreciation.

"I was. I mean, I did. One guy was left but he was infected. I found clues though, about where they might be going." I tell him, shifting my weight from one foot to the other. He nods,

"So where're you headed?" He asks again, and it throws me off. This is the most talkative he's ever been.

"Omaha, Nebraska." I say, recalling the city where the large 'T' was located. Joel's eyebrows raise.

"That's quite a ways from here." He points out and I sigh, knowing I'm severely underprepared for the long road ahead.

"Yeah, I know. But I have to do this. I won't be able to live with myself if I don't." I confess to him. I'm well aware my choices defy logic, but, the alternative of letting the guilt eat me alive is worse.

Joel rests his hand on the top of the car and looks down the highway. He shifts his weight around like he's deep in thought for a few minutes. He's probably trying to think of a way to ditch me. Feeling like I'm intruding on his venture home, I speak up again.

"Listen, I appreciate what you did for me back there, all of it. But I know you're trying to get home so I'll get out of your hair, for real this time." I say and extend a hand out to him again, probably for the last time. Like before, he stares at my hand.

"I'm headed west and go right by Omaha." He says, squinting in the sunlight. I drop my hand once I realize he isn't going to take it, meaning we aren't splitting quite yet. My eyebrows draw tightly together in confusion as I try to understand what he's trying to get at. I think I understand, but I need to hear him clarify.

"Meaning what? We tag along 'til Omaha?" I hear the insecurity in my own voice and I hate it. Joel takes his hand back from the top of the car and nods.

"Safer that way, for the both of us." He confirms my thoughts and starts walking down the highway. I follow him, accepting his offer.

We walk side by side down the road, the only sounds being the birds in the sky and our gear rattling around. My mind is buzzing with questions I want to ask him, but I respect that he's a quiet, reserved man.

Every few minutes I check behind us, feeling paranoid that we're being followed. There's never anything there, but I'd rather check and see nothing than not check and be surprised. Joel is less paranoid I think, he walks with a silent confidence that tells me he's no stranger to the outside world. He understands it far better than I do.

The two of us walk for miles without saying a word until we come to an exit ramp. I recognize it as a suburb outside of Boston, but I've never been there before. Joel veers off the highway to the exit and I follow without question.

Off the ramp, there's a small town to the left and a bunch of housing complexes to the right. Seems like the perfect place for infected to be lurking about. But for some reason, I put my blind faith in the man leading me and trail him into the town.

He looks over his shoulder at me and points at a small brick building. I nod and approach it with him, preparing my knife for use. He stands on the opposite side of the entrance doors with his knife in hand, looking to me for confirmation that I'm ready. Silently, I nod and watch as he swings the door open. I wait for the sound of infected, but am pleasantly surprised with silence.

Joel seems to know where he's going though, he heads straight for the back room. I take my time to look around at the front room, seeing if there's anything of use. Most likely there isn't, but every once in a while I get lucky. The sound of whatever Joel is moving is enough to catch my attention, and I stand in the doorway. He's moving a large piece of plywood that's on the floor. There's a hole in the ground, and he drops down into it.

Curiosity gets the best of me and I go over to peek in the hole, seeing a small stash of supplies. Joel rummages around and picks up ammunition, a few cans, and another knife. He turns around and sees me staring above him, and he hands me items he can't carry himself; some cans of food and ammunition, before he pulls himself back out of the hole.

"You stashed that?" I ask quietly. He huffs as he puts away the extra supplies.

"A while ago." He answers and the two of us quickly shove the items in our bags. My bag feels like it gained fifteen extra pounds, but I can't complain. The extra weight means we have better survival odds.

Wordlessly, Joel moves out of the store and heads towards the suburban side of town, only a few miles walk away. The cookie-cutter houses remind me of the neighborhood I used to live in. A small, idyllic place at one point in time, turned to nothing but a ghost town now. Joel approaches the porch of one and opens the door. Luckily, it's empty and I follow him inside.

He blocks the main entrances to the home without a word, and I move to help him. I shove a strong chair underneath the handle of the back door and try to turn the handle to test its durability. After that, I make my rounds on the curtains and close them all. It seems like we're making this our base for the night. Once we've taken all the safety measures that we possibly can, Joel finds his way to the living room and unloads his stuff on the old, worn-down couch.

I place my backpack on the floor next to the couch and lean against the doorframe that connects the living room and kitchen, watching as Joel straightens his back out on the floor. His arms reach above his head to elongate his spine, and I hear the bones pop and crack. Wincing slightly, I turn my attention elsewhere in the house.

My eyes catch the fading family portrait on the wall and I go to look at it. The black frame houses an old photo. There's a man, woman, two kids, and a dog. They're all smiling, even the dog looks happy. My heart tugs at the sight of the happy family, and I can only assume what happened to them, just like so many other families. Sighing, I look at the other photos on the wall, seeing the slow growth of the children through still images. They look like they were probably high school age. My fingers find their way to the necklace that adorns my neck and I squeeze it tight.

A sound from behind me snaps me out of my thoughts and I turn back to see Joel staring at me. I offer him a polite smile and go to take a seat across from him on the floor, resting my back against the old couch. I fiddle with the torn edges of my pants, and can no longer restrain myself from asking questions. There are too many things I want answers to.

"How did you find me at that barricade?" My voice is soft. Joel clears his throat and shrugs.

"I took the long way 'round so I wouldn't interfere with whatever you were doin'. I was plannin' on taking this highway back home anyways. Guess it was just a coincidence." He plainly answers and I nod, accepting his answer.

"What a lucky coincidence." I smile, trying to break through the tension that always seems to hang over us. It's going to be a long trip west if he keeps things this short. He just shrugs in response,

"So what did you find 'bout those people?" He asks. I'm surprised he even cares, but I reach for my bag to show him what I've found. I spread the documents out in front of me and let him look. I explain to him what I know and what my theories are.

"Whoever they are, they need to be eradicated. Those kids, they were-" The tightness in my throat constricts my ability to talk and I take a shaky breath, remembering what it felt like to cradle the dying girl's head. Joel just nods, not needing further elaboration. He holds up the scraps of paper I found in the fire and reads the simple words.

"I'm not sure what those have to do with anything, and I'm not sure there's any sort of connection." I speak up, truthfully not knowing if they're of any value.

He puts the scraps down and picks up another piece of paper, the one with the Firefly insignia on it. As he reads the paper it's like the blood is drained from his face. My eyebrows knit together,

"What is it?" I ask and his startled eyes look deep into mine with fear that he tries to mask. An uneasy feeling settles in me. He looks back down to the paper and re-reads the note before he says anything.

"These bastards aren't going to live much longer." Is all he says before handing everything back over to me. The look on his face is unsettling, so I don't push anything further.

There has to be something he knows about this.

Part Nine

[heckthis-heckallofthis]

CAWF Tumblr simulator

🦠 Neutro-2145 Follow

B Cell hasn't worked in a while, the bacteria tastes bland…

(56 Notes)

❤️ IM1235 Follow

The neutrophils are so cool when they're saving the body! I should get them a gift to show my gratitude!

❤️ IM1235

Ok I just saw them rip out the insides of an infected cell, I don't think I can sleep tonight.

#oh my god #do they do that all the time???

(45 notes)

🧸 Dendri217 Follow

I don't think sewing lactic acid bacteria nearly everyday is good for my mental health, but it sure is fun! I need to go outside more I think

#lactic acid bacteria #my beloved #maybe I have too many of them #but you can never have too many lactic acid bacteria

(11 notes)

🎆 RegT59 Follow

As much as I love Helper T as a friend I wish he'd stop buying random things with our budget. He didn't even solve the Rubik's cube he bought last time, now he's buying those metal wire puzzles.

🎆 RegT59

He offered to get me something and I bought a conch shell just because it looked interesting. His bad habits are rubbing off on me.

#sigh #i should just stick to solitaire #our office is getting so cluttered

(64 notes)

⚪ Neutro-3033 Follow

The amount of people that don't know not all neutrophils enjoy eating bacteria or infected cells is wild. Have you tried to eat some?? It's terrible. Some of us only eat it because it's part of the job.

#i swear #its so annoying #at least the RBCS bring us stuff other than bacteria #i really wouldn't mind something less sweet

(82 notes)

✖️ Cross-TCell reblogged

🐦‍⬛ King-Killer

How do I tell my subordinates that I don't actually hate them and that I'm just strict and they need to stop being so sloppy? Believe me guys I like having you around please invite me to something I'm begging you

🐦‍⬛ King-Killer

That was a moment of weakness ignore that (please invite me please please please ple

🐦‍⬛ King-Killer

WHICH ONE OF YOU REBLOGGED THIS?? NOW ALL MY SUBORDINATES ARE CONSTANTLY BRINGING ME WITH THEM FOR LUNCH????

#its okay squad leader #we honestly just thought you'd be too busy to bother with us #so glad you actually do like us #the boys love you too

(19 notes)

🍸 Microfold108 Follow

What even is the point of living? If not just for the sake of a higher being we don't even know? Are they good? Are they bad? Maybe they're the nicest person in the world, maybe they're a serial killer who has murdered countless of their kind. Do they know we work only for them? Do they know how many of us love them?

🍸 Microfold108

Nevermind Dendritic cell came over with a lot of friends and he said they all enjoyed me so maybe there is more to life than that.

#i need to find an actual interest #maybe then I'll stop being so negative about everything

(4 notes)

🟩 HelperT31 Follow

Apparently you can just buy a house??? On Sellular?? I'm going to prank Reg T with this. It's going to be so funny, imagine I pull out a whole house right in front of the office, she'd go insane.

#nobody reblog this I can't let reg t see this #itll ruin the surprise

(1,129 notes)

🗡️ NatKiller095 Follow

Non-immune cells are literally so scary, how do you socialize everyday without getting tired or stressed out??? What do you MEAN you think us murdering cells is scarier?? At least I don't have to go around the ENTIRE body just to hand over a box of gases to someone I barely know!

✨ Eosin-9024 Follow

I agree!! How else would you relieve stress if you can't straight up explode? I would rather die than have to deal with that everyday, I'm so glad parasitic infections are rarer than bacterial and viral infections.

#non immune cells #im sorry for exploding your houses all the time but you guys genuinely terrify me

(34 notes)

🪩 B265 Follow

I love working on the skin! So many beautiful women up here! Way better than working for that insane idiot boss in the alimentary tract

#talking about helper T cell #he sucks so bad #wont let me live my life for just 5 minutes #i do really miss reg t tho #she was way better than helper T

(8 notes)

🪄 Mast92 Follow

The reason why Cellor-sun was so adamant about saving her friends despite risking her life to do so was because if she didn't she risked the Natchlor absorbing her powers and in turn causing the destruction of the whole vessel. Yes she loves her friends but she needed to take the risk, it was a big part of the plot, how do people not see that the first time they watched??

Also I hate how they forcefully gave Cellor-sun a love interest. Soma was an interesting character as Cellor-sun's new companion but they didn't have to force the love interest trope on him. I feel like the trope was so one dimensional, like two different people wrote him. The Cellor-sun I know would never instantly fall in love with someone like that! Their arc was literally 20 minutes long!!! She has high standards and yet just happened to meet someone who has all those exact standards??? Where do you find a cell that happens to be into all your interests, mesh well with your friends, and don't mind that you are a magical girl constantly risking your life for the sake of the vessel?? Soma would've been fine if he was just a friend of Cellor, he could've been her love interest, just stretch it out realistically. He has interesting powers that interact well with the rest of the cast, I really just wish his arc with Cellor would've been written better. Whoever wrote that needs to post a public apology right now.

#cellor-sun against the univessel #cellor-sun #soma-san catu #i could've written it better for real #catu

(424 notes)

[confessionsofa-roleplayer]

As someone with high-functioning autism and significant social anxiety, which can cause times where social cues are particularly difficult to pick up on especially when it's over a text format where it's even harder to discern tone and inflection without blatant indicators, there's a part of me that doesn't really get all the complaints I've seen about a lack of communication when it comes to "plotting". I mean, I can understand the perspective that it can come across as a partner being unenthusiastic whenever they're given ideas but don't really try to hash those ideas out themselves. On the other hand, it's also possible those same partners could really just be fine with the ideas they're being given and don't really have anything to contribute, maybe they'd rather get right into writing the thread out instead of just shooting ideas back and forth? I know that's usually what I'm thinking most of the time. A good part of the reason why someone like myself would be a little disinclined towards sharing much in return is also because I'd be afraid of taking one too many liberties with someone else's ideas or maybe crossing a line with anything I might contribute. I'm sure we can all agree how quick to take offense people on here can be and, having been on both sides of the fence on this, it can be upsetting both when someone wildly misconstrues things about your muse's characterizations and headcanons just to fit whatever idea they might have in mind, and when having to correct those misconceptions or explain why certain ideas wouldn't work very well. It just creates disappointment all around, and when people aren't willing to talk out any disagreements like adults, all it does it shut down the plotting just the same as giving canned answers. It's also worth considering that some people may be geared creatively different. It can be difficult sometimes to come up with something when you may not know another person's character, or their own particular brand of characterization, very well, and sometimes the ideas just don't come to all of us unless we've really gotten a feel for another person's character and we can see the potential for things. Some people may just be wired more towards improvisational writing at that and really don't start fleshing things out until they have a premise in their hands, coming up with possibilities and exploring them during the actual interactions. Not to mention there's also roleplayers out there who do nothing but plot, and when it comes time to actually write the thread, they simply just don't want to bother with it because… Well, you already know how the story's going to go at this point because you talked it over. Why bother actually having back and forth replies about it when you pretty much wrote the story already by plotting? I've had that experience plenty of times with others myself. You spend all this time laying the framework for where the interactions will go and then nothing just gets done with it beyond the planning phase because, hey, you already talked about everything by now. I just hope that by pointing these things out that everyone might realize they shouldn't generalize partners who may not communicate as much during the "plotting" phase and are just straight to the point, give short affirmative answers when offered ideas. I think the only fair way you can tell if someone really is just putting all the work off on others to come up with ideas is if you can see them repeatedly doing this, especially if they never act on it. That right there would be the surest sign of someone being disinterested or just lazy. Then again, there could also be reasons for this as well, like maybe your characters just don't really have any sort of chemistry for any kind of meaningful interaction – and that's okay too. No two people are always going to get along or want to have anything to do with each other, and sometimes it takes some attempt at communicating to figure that much out.

[098-lxxon]

What if :

The crew gets teleported to my Mouthwashing AU in Act 2 (Part 1)

The tilted names are the crew in my AU version!

Content warning : Time traveling, dimension crossing stuff / Self-taught English / Curses / Alcoholism / Insanity / Mental illness / Cannibalism hinted / OC insert (briefly)

This is for entertainment purpose only. It's fun to think about it lol.

✼ •• ┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈ •• ✼

*The door of the main lobby slides open.*

Daisuke : " Is everyone okay!? "

Daisuke : " . . . "

Daisuke : " . . . "

Daisuke : " W . . . Wait— what? You're me, I'm you, who are you— And why are you tied up like that!? "

Daisuke : " S . . . Swansea . . . "

Daisuke : " Here, let me help you— "

Daisuke : " SWANSEA!!!! "

Swansea / Swansea : *Aggressively slide the door at each side of the room open.* " You're hurt, boy!? "

Daisuke / Daisuke : " . . . "

Daisuke : " WHY ARE THERE TWO OF YOU!!?!? "

Swansea : " . . . Welp, I am officially insane. "

Anya : " What's going on!? "

Swansea : " Wait, Anya, when did you grow your hair that long? "

Anya : *Marched to Daisuke and Swansea* " Don't . . . Don't worry guys, it's just a temporary shared psychosis. It'll be over soo— "

Curly : *Coming from the cockpit* " Is everyone okay!? "

Jimmy : *Is behind Curly* " . . . "

Anya / Swansea / Daisuke : " . . . "

Anya / Swansea / Daisuke :

" *Screams harmonizing* "

✼ •• ┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈ •• ✼

Fallacia : " Yes! A big time travel company was using their tunnel, making some people teleported to any possibility. "

Daisuke : " You're telling me I have to listen to MYSELF SCREAMING until the next tunneling of that company, THEN I'll get a CHANCE to go back. . . ? "

Daisuke : " *Screamed and muttered incoherently* "

Anya : " I hope you understand . . . "

Curly : *Is outside of the common room* " Yep, we do. We'll be here. "

Jimmy : *Is also outside of the common room* " Where are we from this dimension anyway? "

Daisuke : " *Scream louder* "

Swansea : " Boy quiet. "

Swansea : " Ay! This boy is my boy. Go scold yours. "

Swansea : " Fuck you. "

Swansea : " Fuck YOU. "

Anya : " . . . What else happened to you? "

Anya : " . . . "

Anya : " . . . Everything . . . "

Anya : " . . . "

Daisuke : *Handing Daisuke a package of sweetener* " I only have one, but we could sh— "

Daisuke : " I'M NOT HUNGRY!!!!! "

Daisuke : " . . . "

Daisuke : " . . . More for me, . . . I guess??? "

✼ •• ┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈ •• ✼

Daisuke : *Messing with everything in the kitchen area for something to eat.*

Daisuke : " Yo, guys got freezer!? Cool! "

Daisuke : " Red wire connected with the screen . . . Green wire connected with the speaker . . . Blue wire . . . "

Daisuke : *Open the freezer*

Daisuke : " . . . "

Daisuke : *Close it slowly.*

Daisuke : " . . . "

Daisuke : *Voice shaking* " . . . What was the red wire connected to again? "

✼ •• ┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈ •• ✼

Curly : " . . . You've been captaining the ship? "

Anya : " You can say that. But I have to admit, I depend a lot on Fallacia. She knows more than me. "

Anya : *Examining the equipments* " . . . "

Curly : " You could always come to me for help though. Even if I'm not the captain on this ship, I'll help you with anything. "

Anya : " . . . "

Anya : *eyes narrowed* " . . . You didn't do anything then. What would you do now . . . ? "

Curly : *Instant realization* " . . . "

Anya : *Looking between the two* " . . . "

Anya : " . . . Go supervise your pet. "

Curly : " Got it . . . "

✼ •• ┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈ •• ✼

Jimmy : *Looking at the freezer* " That's YOU!? "

Curly : " Eeeehhh . . . "

Daisuke : *Smirking* " . . . You two hold hands, I see. "

Jimmy : " SHUT UP! "

Curly : " . . . You looked even more uglier. "

Jimmy : " *Curly's government name*. "

Curly : " And the AI girl said you got killed by the intern? "

Jimmy : " *CURLY'S GOVERNMENT NAME*!! "

Daisuke : " Another me is so . . . "

Daisuke : *Lying on the sofa* " Alexander Hamilton . . . My name is Alexander Hamilton . . . "

Daisuke : " . . . Questionable . . . "

✼ •• ┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈ •• ✼

Swansea : " . . . "

Swansea : " . . . "

Swansea : " Fuck you. "

Swansea : " Fuck you. "

Swansea : " Fuck you. "

Swansea : " Fuck you. "

Swansea : " Fuck YOU. "

Swansea : " What's the deal with you!? I've been on this ship for 7 months-ish, what'd you want me to do? Keep being sober with no clear chance of getting back to earth? "

Swansea : " FUCKING YES! What did you think not drinking that shit for thirteen years was supposed to mean? You're a bonehead when you're drunk and you know it. "

Swansea : " And aren't you a mechanic? Where have those years of work gone to? All for naught??? "

Swansea : " Wake up, Swansy, we're in the middle of the whole wide universe, we're short on everything, and I am fucking tired. "

Swansea : " Plus, I gotta save the last working pod for the kid. "

Swansea : " . . . "

Swansea : *Chuckled* " . . . At least you still have some senses. "

Swansea : *Smirked* " Duh. "

✼ •• ┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈ •• ✼

Daisuke : " Don't go there . . . "

*Daisuke and Daisuke's daily conversation :*

Daisuke : " Don't . . . "

Daisuke : " Nope . . . "

Daisuke : " Stop walking around like you're busy, you're useless . . . "

Daisuke : *Almost in tears* " Geeze, dude . . . "

Daisuke : " . . . "

Daisuke : " . . . Jimmy crashed the ship. "

Daisuke : " Wha— wh— why are you telling me this again!? You've killed yours! "

Daisuke : " Yours probably also responsible for it, too. . . "

Daisuke : *Handed the knife to Daisuke.*

Daisuke : *Reluctantly accepted the knife.* " . . . "

Daisuke : " . . . I really should've ditched this trip from the start . . . "

✼ •• ┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈ •• ✼

Thank you for reading!

[notmorbid]

birnam wood.

dialogue prompts from birnam wood by eleanor catton.

i prefer enemies to rivals.

being dislikable is more terrible than being disliked.

everything is the same, and everything is different.

you're really enjoying this, aren't you?

do you want to go somewhere and get a drink?

i doubt you're an axe murderer.

why do we always say 'axe murderer'? we never say 'gun murderer' or 'knife murderer'.

we were all pretty drunk that night.

some of the stuff i say, when i remember it, it makes me sick.

come on. we've all made mistakes.

i always know i'm safe with you.

i thought you might appreciate some time to yourself.

i never stay anywhere longer than a night.

i haven't thought about ____ in years.

who do you work for?

i have no idea who you are.

anything else you want to ask?

how do i know you're not setting me up?

you little criminal.

i bet you sleep so well.

we're very snobby about our coffee here.

can you calm down just a little bit, please?

let the record show i kept my mouth shut.

just remember the first rule of pr: say nothing.

you are so unbelievably full of shit.

i said i didn't want to talk about it.

i don't know why i didn't kiss you.

i really want to kiss you.

seriously, all i want is to have a drink alone.

only something someone doesn't want to see in print is news. everything else is advertising.

at least it's not raining, right?

i want to know who you've been talking to.

i think we've got our wires crossed somewhere.

do you think the kind of person who never says 'sorry' is also the kind of person who never says 'thank you'?

thank you for assuming i was listening.

do you think there are two different types of people, or just one?

you were like a different person.

tell me everything there is to tell.

start at the beginning, and don't leave anything out.

you seem like the sort of person who'd have a secret agenda.

everyone can't be on top, or it wouldn't be the top anymore.

if i didn't know any better, i'd say you had a crush.

you can hardly even breathe without lying.

no one ever actually knows what the right thing is.

you don't like to be out of control. is that it?

i'm worried this is just a bit of fun for you. like, it doesn't really mean anything.

you're seeing me differently now.

it's like a black mirror episode.

can we do drugs now, please?

everybody has their own reasons for doing what they do. you can't police motivation.

none of this is real. it's a simulation.

we did this together. this is our fault.

i got you into this mess, and i'm going to get you out.

every weakness, seen differently, can be a strength.

just say it over and over again until you believe it.

no hard feelings. honestly.

whatever fantasy world you're living in right now, snap out of it.

call me any time. day or night.

i just feel like nothing's real.

it's one of those albums where you can't just listen to one track. you have to hear the whole thing, you know?

we're not still on acid, are we?

you didn't fuck it up. i fucked it up.

we were just young.

people don't run if they've got nothing to hide.

you're going to rot in hell.

i've thought about you all day.

don't give up. you can't give up.

i feel like a stupid child.

i want to be able to say i died fighting.

[bionicle-ramblings]

I mean this in the most inoffensive way possible, and this is purely my interpretation, looking back now that I've caught up more on the lore and read up on on the books and rewatched the movies:

Vakama is a very anxiety coded character

My evidence is more interpretation that anything else, but let me explain:

We all know how Vakama's story starts: he's an esteemed mask-maker in Ta-Metru, good enough to surpass his teacher and have the Turaga choose him to make the most powerful Kanohi mask of all time(pun intended), he's got friends he enjoys his time with, he has a good thing going for him, even if his city is overrun with Vahki that will attack on sight, there's a homicidal plant that's trying to kill everyone, and Ta-Metru isn't the most livable place to be, all things considered, but Vakama is at his most stable as a Matoran.

I don't have a lot of or any background on his Matoran life to really point out anything that comes across as anxiety, but I will say that Lhikan giving him the Toa stone and Lhikan's capture gave Vakama some kind of survivor's guilt, seeing as how Nidhiki literally threatened to burn Vakama alive if Lhikan didn't hand himself over.

Where we loop back to anxiety territory is the visions Vakama has, or rather what the visions could represent. Anxiety is often referred to as "being afraid of the future," and the future is something Vakama sees due to his visions. The closest I can think of that can be a real life interpretation of the visions(what it could be IRL) are panic attacks or anxiety attacks, nothing severe, but big enough that almost everyone who sees it chalks it up to, "being cross-wired."

Some other things that come off as anxiety coding are when Vakama still makes the Mask of Time, despite still being a Toa, when Vakama tries to feign confidence and gets irritable when he's trying to rescue the rest of the Matoran and is trying to do it as fast as possible, even snapping at and lashing out at his friends. Granted the latter, getting haughty and trying to get the job done quickly, seems to be more the result of Vakama internalizing Lhikan's sacrifice and last words, doing so in a, "he said he was proud to call me his brother, so now I have to keep him proud, even if he's not here to say it," which is a line of thinking that could bring us back to anxiety

In terms of how making the Mask of Time can be seen as something to do with anxiety, this requires a bit of a personal lense to view:

Have you ever been at a point where a big event or thing is coming up and to keep yourself from focusing on it, you try to focus on something else? For instance, if you were stressing about a new semester of school starting or a job interview or a test, have you ever tried to take the focus off of it by doing something like cooking a meal or writing ina journal or drawing? Just a small thing you're used to doing that both challenges you, but is relatively stress-free?

I imagine Vakama is doing mostly the same thing. With no sugar-coating at all, he's stressed the hell out about being a Toa and cannot really express that or back out because he was chosen, so he resorts to making the Kanohi Vahi; he's a skilled mask-maker and his job was to make masks, which he was very successful in. I also imagine it's a bit of a bargaining thing for him, like a sort of, "If I can succeed in making this, I can succeed going forward," thing.

There are smaller things that are also possible pointers or shows of Vakama's implied anxiety, namely how he chooses a weapon most familiar to him from his time as a Matoran(the disk launcher), how his mask power is invisibility, which I've personally felt sometimes when I was having anxiety moments("I don't want to be here right now, I don't want anyone to see me"), and just how quiet Vakama is in general, being someone who possibly wouldn't be noticed as much if he weren't the main protagonist in LoMN; I'm pretty sure if it was Matau or Onewa we were dollowing, Vakama would be an intriguing background character similar to Nuju, only slightly louder, so to speak

This was just a random thought I had, and most of it is just what I interpret, and sorry if it doesn't make a lot of sense😅

[vivi-scera]

hi hi! so i just found your answer to an ask about johndean, and i got immensely surprised when you mentioned about batman and robin, which i assume bruce and dick, not the other batman and robin combination, and im curious about what do you think about them! i quite recently got into comics, and im so fascinated by their mutual codependency and dick's devotion towards bruce, and how bruce sees dick as his peer/partner despite their age differences before growing into a more parental role, and i wanna hear your opinions abt them :D

hey so. come off anon so we can make out.

dick grayson, the first robin and batman's lacanian phallus. ugh many things to say and think about. i wasn't necessarily referring to just bruce and dick— i think all of the subsequent robins have their own neat fucked-up relationships with bruce, in each their own ways. more fucked-up in that they see him as more their father than dick does, like you mentioned. i like thinking about jason-robin's relationship with bruce the most but i like tim as robin best. i think i was mostly thinking bruce/jason since i was talking about johndean but since you asked about bruce/dick i'll expand on them the most.

some may think brudick is the least problematic of all the possible bruce/son pairings since dick doesn't necessarily think of bruce as his father. which is true, he already had a good relationship with his father and didn't need/want a replacement in bruce like the other robins do. but a huge part of his characterization (during his robin years at least) is his insistence on being bruce's equal. you'll see tons of canon material— tv shows, comics, games, etc.— wherein dick insists that he's batman's partner, not his sidekick. many such connotations about the word "partner" as we all know. and there are popular interpretations about the queer subtext in batman comics. guy who cannot be his true self in the public sphere and thus parades around in fetishistic costumery in secrecy. you know how it is. but not only in batman's character— there was a huge outcry about the homoerotic imagery/subtext between batman and dick-robin in the 40's and 50's (see The Seduction of the Innocent), so I'm not pulling this shit out of my ass. not that i'm saying there's canon truth/weight to these interpretations. they are just that. interpretations.

anyway. not only is dick batman's partner, he's also bruce's partner. his lighter, brighter counterpart. bruce sees himself in dick, and also wants to prevent dick from becoming him (see young justice season 1 episode 22 for THE BEST interpretation of batman/dick's relationship. or just young justice in general). no one else is bruce's partner/equal quite like dick is (jason, tim, etc. are more his sons as mentioned. and they also, unlike dick, possess the fault of actually wanting to become batman, or some version of him). just as batman is responsible for robin's creation, so does robin-dick, in turn, shape batman's character. bruce didn't make dick his/a son as much as dick-robin made bruce-batman a dad. just maybe not his own father. fucked-up of dick to be jealous of jason getting bruce's fatherly-attention but not necessarily even wanting it himself. but it's okay, he made him a father! dick himself, in being the first to create robin, might even be the father-mother of bruce's other children and therefore has a higher role as batman's literal partner. one of my favorite developments in comics EVER is dick becoming damian's pseudo-father/batman. the first quasi-son becoming a father figure to his mentor-father's biological son. canonically, dick even wanted to adopt damian. but none of this can/does make dick bruce's true equal (bruce's true equal is batman, and vice-versa). i'm going to be actively problematic and say that bruce sees dick as something less than his partner and something more than his son. i'd LOVE to see a fic that explores dick's drive to become batman's equal/partner and the proverbial wires crossing because of that drive. i think at this point i'm just gonna have to write it myself 😔.

speaking in a meta-narrative sense, dick was introduced as batman's foil. robin (not necessarily dick, just the role) must project an idealized image of that which must be protected. he is representative of the hope that batman has in not only gotham's future, but his own. there is no point in batman if he doesn't believe he can save the future. in batman managing to save robin, he succeeds in saving gotham. but i mean, does that ever really happen? does batman ever really "save" robin/gotham? if the nature of robin is that which must be protected, robin is also a representative role that must be preserved in order to allow batman to save (and fail in order to save) gotham over and over and over again. robin exists/represents a future gotham that doesn't need batman and stands as a reminder to batman what he chooses to fight for, but robin cannot occupy that future himself (since robin is a condition created by batman and can't exist without him. a perfect gotham would neither need robin or batman. the existence of robin implies that there is a gotham that needs saving and that there is a batman that needs to save gotham). so herein lies the paradoxical tragedy of dick grayson. he needs to grow up in order to be batman's equal (and/or to be his partner in the romantic sense), but batman needs robin to justify his existence. robin, the role, by definition cannot grow up in order to meet his own condition for existence— he cannot exist in the future. when the boy behind the mask is killed/grows up, he ceases to be robin and someone else fills in the role. even when dick grayson grows up and becomes batman himself, he still cannot meet bruce-batman as his equal.

there's a great btas episode "the trial" that explores the idea that batman's existence is the condition that creates the very villains he's meant to stop. whether i agree with that statement is another topic. but it's an interesting and valid idea nonetheless. if robin symbolizes all that is at risk of and must be protected from "perversity" (both in the connotative and literal meaning of the word) what does it mean when the birth of batman is representative of gotham's perversion? you can see why i have issues with the statement that batman is the real cause of all evil in gotham. while i think that it's true that batman is a perversion he is just as much a persona created to do good and does succeed in doing good. he is, very much, the john winchester of comics if you'd like to think about it that way.

anyway this totally got too meta-y, sorry. i do think each robin's relationship with bruce brings up some more interesting questions i'd love to explore (and be asked to explore!!!). can batman ever save robin/jason? can robin/tim ever save batman? as damian, son of bruce, what does it mean to be robin, son of batman? thx for the ask <3