#but knowing myself i'll probably get spoiled of the whole thing

[cuntwrap--supreme]

Dog has a swollen lymph node. Just one for now. Which means her cancer is getting worse already. The longer this goes on, the more detached I feel from reality.

[karlachismylife]

Wrote the intro the day I started this work and decided to leave it since it reflects the shitstorm in my head quite well, eh.

Okay Idk what it is with me today (I actually do know, I'm having a bad fucking night as a consequence of my own actions but I prefer not to think about it), but I just thought about task force 141 and reader that has such a bad withdrawal after their orgasm that they actually cry and not in a fun way (cue my lack of understanding how crying in bed can ever be fun, but i'm not here to kinkshame)

CW: NSFW (so minors and ageless blogs DNI, I'll block you), but there's barely any sex, hurt/comfort, body image issues, low self-esteem, chubby/fat!reader, written with afab!reader in mind (but most parts can be read as gn), potential mental health issues (?), thoughts of selfloathing and selfharm, smoking mentioned once at the end. Very self-indulgent and I'm definitely unwell, so yeah. It's also more focused on reader's inner shitstorm than the guys in many places so idk if this even really is enjoyable...

Starts as a single piece, then splits into individual blurbs/drabbles/oneshots + some polyamory cuz I'm spoiling myself today having done nothing to deserve it, lol.

They vary in size and tone since I've been writing them through several ups and downs in my own mental state, so please don't take this as a sign of which characher/combo is my favourite. I'm greedy, I like everything.

This is unfair.

Like, you just had wonderful sex, probably came more than once in a short period of time, ears stuffed with cotton, limbs weak, head spinning... and it keeps spinning, sweet tingling on the skin turning into nasty rushes of cold, muscles too tense, but it's not a cramp.

You feel like shit, every possible hormonal and neuromediator crash downing on you, a hollow, depressing weight in your chest instead of a sweet afterglow. Sweat and cum feel disgusting on you skin, your skin feels disgusting, strangling, your whole body seems revolting, too heavy, too sluggish. A sticky, suffocating heatwave on your nape, but your chest is cold and covered in goosebumps, a feverish feeling clogging every pore. Nausea wrenches into your stomach and stops just before you can relievingly barf and get rid of this parasite inside.

You simply want to dig your nails into your own shoulders instead of his and rip the skin and meat off, free yourself from this burden (you're the burden). Each second as he stays blissfully unaware, holding you tightly with his big hands and panting into the crook of your neck, drags on like a hundred hours of pure torture - the torture of being yourself.

Throwing up feels like an appropriate reaction to how unappealing and ugly you feel.

You're spiraling. You couldn't fucking keep your own messed up emotional outburst - completely unreasonable and unprovoked, by the way - to yourself, and now it's going to be noticed. You'll ruin someone else's fun. Make it all about yourself when you've already been nothing but doted on, cared and provided for. Fucked so good that your body is still clenching around that magnificent cock deep inside you.

And you're fucking crying, like an ungrateful, egotistical brat. Never having enough, unable to provide something as simple as a hole to make someone else happy without fucking it up.

Ghost notices immediately. There's nothing that can escape this man, and definitely not his love's distress. He's not reacting immediately for a sole reason: he's frozen in fear, horrified that he made you cry. How - he's not sure, he always takes great care to stay within limits, never allows himself to push you further than you both agree on. But what if he slipped up? What if he got carried away? Did he cause pain? Did he say something hurtful in the heat of the moment?

"Fuck. Hey, hey, lovie... look at me... wha's wrong? Did I... did I hurt ya?" Good thing you're hiding your face and your red eyes so desperately that you can't see how distressed and downright terrified Simon looks, lost at the sight of your tears. When you shake your head and attempt to push him away to hide your pathetic sobbing, he somewhat calms down and brings his big calloused hands to cradle your face, gently prying your own palms away and holding your puffy cheeks tenderly. His thumbs brush your tears away as he holds you, holds you through the growing rage fit of touch aversion, through the shudders and actual wailing. At some point he moves his palm to cover your eyes, a dry, dark blinder to keep the world around you shut out, help you concentrate on his voice.

He's not talking, just humming, a familiar, deep, grumbling noise that soothes all the flashes of anger, hate and disgust in your brain. You're tired now, like you're always are after such an intense outburst, and as you go limp, he finally pulls away, only to pick you up - barely a strain, a direct spit in the face of your own insecurity - and bring you to the bathroom. A warm shower evens your distorted body temperature out, his hands running over your body and cleaning all the stickiness away bring back peace with your own skin. After a quick rinse Simon holds you, your head cradled against his chest, until you make a weak attempt to help him wash too - he lets you trace his body, that perfection you adore with all its old wounds, sores and scars, for a bit, and then finishes himelf.

Gives you fresh cotton underwear and his hige T-shirt, still holding you around your shoulders and keeping the comfortable pressure even while he changes the bedsheets, kissing your temple as you find it in yourself to help.

It's only after you settle on top of him, nice, clean comforter protecting your back against the world, head on his chest right next to his heart beating in a steady rythm, he finally breaks silence.

"Need anything else, lovie?" Just like that. No prying, no occusations, nothing that would put you on the spot. You can ask him to bring you the moon soaked in unicorn's milk, and he'll just nod, kiss your hand and start dressing up, already calling Johnny to ask where the fuck did Scots hide their last horned horse and if he happens to know where they enlist astronauts.

"Just you."

His grip on the small of your back tightens and you feel his uneven, scarred lips graze the top of your head.

"Ya've got me. Always."

Soap is running hot like a furnace, still shivering and panting after what he considers the best sex he has ever had (every time with you is). He lifts his face, buried into the crease of your neck previously, and starts peppering you with slightly sloppy, grateful kisses - your neck, your jaw, your lips, your...

When he tastes your tears and opens his unbelievably blue eyes to see your expression contorted in disgust, he panics. Pulls away immediately, hands both itching to grab you and shake a reason for that look on your face out of you and too scared to touch you in case this hatred is directed at him.

"Whit's wrong, leannan? Are ye a'right? Ye didnae lik' it? Shite, lass, Ah'm so sorry, Ah didnae mean tae-" He stops yapping only when he notices the way your lips tremble as you try to plead with him, sobbing that it's not his fault.

"'M sorry, I ruined it... I'm so sorry, sushine, I just... fuck I wish I wasn't so bloody sick in the head and ugly..." Speaking out loud only worsens your anger, directed solely at yourself, and you try to wipe your eyes furiously. As the tears keep rolling, your frustration only grows - maybe if you yanked your own hair really good or slapped the disgusting pudgy cheek you've despised ever since chidhood as everyone kept pointing out how big they were...

"Ye didnae just call the love of mah fucking life ugly." Johnny's voice is a mix of a harsh order to cut your bullshit and pure disbelief. His huge paws wrap themselves around your wrists, stopping you both from harming yourself and covering your face. You're forced to look at him, and as you do, you see his handsome face flushed with a passionate anger at the intrusive thoughts in your head, heavy frown in his thick eyebrows and the sea in his eyes dark and deep enough to drown a whole fleet. You'd be scared if it wasn't obvious how hurt he is underneath it all - like a kid whose favourite plushie just got mocked by his classmates.

"It's just a toy," adults would say, and they would be bloody wrong.

"Tis not a toy, tis mah friend."

You're his friend. His love. His heart, his soul, his everything - he whispers that frantically, kissing you over and over, hot palms running over your body, wiping the cold, the stickiness, the goosebumps away. You don't have time to think, to spiral again, you're drowning in that exact sea that's spilling from his eyes, staring at you with pure devotion - a sea of affection, admiration, love, love, love.

Johnny nuzzles up to you like an animal seeking comfort, hides into your chest, right after he kisses your sweaty double chin, breathes in deeply, lets go of your soft shoulders only to grab two handfuls of your tummy, kneading it, warming up the stale blood, squeezing your big thighs between his and getting lost in the frenzy - he honestly doesn't even remember already that he was comforting you, he's fully in the worshipping mode, leaving you no chance to dip even a single toe into the self-conscious thoughts again.

You'll just have to stay there, every single tear lapped up from your face, and accept every greedy touch and word of a man utterly in love with you. Even the messed up parts.

Gaz keeps his cool despite how distraught even the thought of your sadness makes him. First of all he moves aside to give you space, makes sure you're not hurt, asking in his usual kind - unbelievably kind, so much that you burst into tears again, feeling undeserving of such unapologetically soft treatement, tone.

"Shh, shush, gorgeous, you're not hurt, are you? It's okay, c'mere, jus-st like tha', very good, love," praises keep spilling from his tender lips as he carefully helps you sit up, simply dragging you away from the damp from sweat and everything else spot on the sheets. He ends up balancing half his bare ass off the edge of the bed, but it doesn't bother him in the slightest as he feels you already coming back from that hopeless place as soon as your body gets stuck between clean, dry and a bit cool sheet and Kyle's firm lean body of a litearal god - or a prince, at least.

His deft fingers are already at work, massaging your scalp, chasing the tension away, but the second he feels you grow uncomfortable with the repetitive movement, he stops and retreats to simply holding you in a steady, reliant embrace. You know he's good with his words, that's how he got you, swept off your feet completely and made you swoon with sweet compliments, hilarious snark and smart talk.

You just don't expect him to do it all over again in the face of your burdened mind crumbling in the paradise.

"Talk to me, angel. Let me inside that pretty head, hm?"

It takes this sweettalker just a couple of words to coax whatever that ugly, slimy knot in your throat is, out. You sob, retelling Kyle every single thought that has been stuck in that coagulated mess in your head, spill the bile that has been burning your retching throat, out in the open, for him to see the disgusting ugliness of your insides - matching your outside.

Somehow throughout your choking trade his soft, careful hand never leaves your back, rubbing circles of different radius and intensity into your skin to keep the aggression at monotonous touch at bay.

"Must've been some terrible person to overbear your spirit and plant all those lies in your mind, angel." You don't catch the meaning of his words at first, glancing at him confused and whoozy after you exploded with self-deprication. Those dark, calm eyes look at you no different than before: quiet, calm reverence and determination. A thread of spider's silk, thin as a hair, but stronger than steel, his love does not waver. Were you in the right state to actually pay attention, you would've seen it only grow.

"Well, beautiful, this isn't how I planned to start writing poetry, but since you insisted... maybe I can think of a diss track about you."

"A diss track?.." Poor you, so upset that you can't catch onto the mischievous glint in his eyes and that silly smooth sarcasm slipping into his words. You're actually half a step away from believing he would diss you, destroying that already non-existent self-esteem once and for all.

"Yup. Gotta diss-tract you from all that bullshit in your head for good. Unless you'd rather me fuck it out of you instead?"

You cannot not smile at that, even if it's a weak, timid smile. Kyle's face still lights up as if he sees an actual angel, bringing the good grace or whatever.

"There ya go. First step of the mission? Success. Permission to continue? I repeat, permission to continue?"

"You spend too much time with Simon. Permission granted..."

Price undrstands what's going on before he even hears your first sob, the tension in your body and the change in your breath telling him all he needs to know. There's enough experience in this man for the both of you, he has learnt to read people and immediately accomodate them in a way that serves a common goal so long ago that it's a secong nature already.

Your comfort is that common goal.

With a grunt, he rolls you over, planting you firmly on top of his warm, burly body. Untucking your head from his hairy chest, he holds your face and does not let you concentrate on anything but his stern, focued gaze under those bushy eyebrows - but there's still that undeniable tenderness in his eyes that's always there whenever John looks at you.

His voice sounds usual too: a calm, commanding, but not harsh tone, not a loud bark any of his subordinates would hear, yet still an order. "Look at me, darling. Tha's right, look at me, look at your John. You shut whatever's going through that troubled mind of yours out and let me take care of the rest, a'right? Can you do that for me, darling? I know you can. I'll do all the thinking for ya, eh?"

Giving control over to him feels natural at any other moment, but right now you're too deep in the trenches of the war with your own mind, hissing at you with pure disgust for being so selfish. Really, now? Had to use this sweet, caring man for your own needs, and now you're dumping all your perverted, fucked up baggage on him too?

"Nuh-huh, ya're still thinking. Told ya to cut if off. You know that's not you thinking right now, dontcha? You're a smart one, love, ya know shit like this happens. And when shit happens, who are you going to to deal with it, huh?" His deep voice rumbles in his chest, seeps into your clogged ears, fills your skull with the unyielding determination and leaves no room for your own dark thoughts.

When you hesitate to answer, John slides his rough palms over your back, tracing your soft rolls and landing onto the pudge of your hips, squeezing lightly to remind you who's in charge and what your task is. "Who is there for ya to deal with shit that happens, hm, darling? Need ya to tell me."

You want to hide, escape his demand for an answer, but he keeps you firmly in his embrace, a gaze of steel unmoving from you. It almost makes you tear up again, almost feels mean of him to put you on the spot, when all you want to do is curl up in a dark corner and stay there for all eternity. But the love you have for this man overpowers even the seething hatred you bear for yourself, so you give up and murmur meekly: "You..."

"Tha's right, darling, it's your John. I'm here to deal with everything that bothers ya. Everything, ya hear? Tha's me job. Your job is to stay wit' me 'n' not overthink, eh? Especially not when it's just hormons making ya feel bad." You have nothing else left to do, other than sniffle into his chest and melt under a warm kiss he plants on your crown. "How about a cuppa, eh, darling? And something just as sweet as ya for a bite. Ya'll feel better in no time, I promise."

Ghost and Soap cancel each other's panicking out. As soon as both you and Simon slip out of the sweet afterglow, falling backwards each into your own pit of self-doubt and spiraling, Johnny starts babbling, terrified at the thought of both his beloved people feeling worse after being with him. His slurred, panting words and frantic kisses help Simon shake of his own horror - in return, he squeezes Johnny's shoulder to slow the worried mutt down and redirect his energy into helping you. Soap tenses up under the firm touch of his Lieutenant, then relaxes again, leaning into him for a moment to collect himself - they charge from each other, mere seconds of feeding off each other's energies in the middle of a time-limited mission with the highest stakes: your well-being.

They exchange glances, no words needed after the way their work together almost makes them mindreaders to each other, and turn back to you as you lay there, face painfully contorted in an attempt to keep the black foamy bile you feel rising in your throat from spilling. Slow, sticky, angry tears run down your flabby cheeks, and with each millimetre they go, your scalding wish to gouge your eyes out with your bare hands grows, just to punish yourself for being ungrateful after two perfect men spent so much of their time making you feel good.

"Dinnae cry, bonnie. Ye're a'right, ye're 'ere, wit' us. Right, LT? We're nae gonnae let ye marinate in whitevur got ye so upset." The pressure from inside your body that threatened to burst you open into a messy explosion of bile and rot, gets evened out from outside by Johnny's tight hug. He squeezes you up to the painful point, cradling against his broad chest, holding the fort while Simon leaves the bed, but not without kissing both your palms and holding them against his lips until he feels the cold leave your fingertips.

"Oi, Johnny. Help lovie get in 'ere," he calls out several minutes later out of the bathroom. Soap, who has been holding you and allowing you to sob against his heart this whole time, stroking your sweaty hair and murmuring every word of love he knows, scoops you up immediately. He pads over with you in his arms to where a warm bath is already filled thanks to Simon, and when you react to the temperature with another wave of tears, they both reach out to the tap simultaneously.

"Is tha' a'right, bonnie?" You make a strangled noise as Johnny finally sets you down into much cooler now water. It soothes you, makes you feel instantly cleaner, smaller, lighter. Breathing gets easier, that swollen blob of anger and disgust shrinking down in your chest and allowing you to inhale bathroom's damp air normally. You open your mouth to apologize and get cut off before even a single syllable leaves your mouth.

"Don't," Simon's voice sounds gruff, but even his murky reflection in the rippling water looks genuinely soft towards you. They're both perched on the cold bath edge, naked and seemingly not caring about that at all. "Jus' let us take care of you, yeah, love? Tha's what we're here for. Tha's what we want to do."

"Well, actually, there's one more thing," Johnny interjects, causing you to finally lift your sullenly lowered head and look at him, Simon's big palm using this moment of distraction to press onto your back in silent support. "Can Ah make ye a foam beard? Please, bonnie? Ye jus' 'ave the prettiest sweetest cheeks fur tha'."

Soap and Gaz feel like their world is sinking into a whirlwind of stormy clouds, the kind that sucks all light out of sky in mere seconds and can't be cut through even by blinding flashes of lightnings. There is no sun in their skies if you're not smiling, and the sound of your muffled sniffles hits their eardrums harder than thunder or explosions. The frowns distorting their faces only make you more self-aware of the fact that you ruined things between you - the initial hysteria starts rapidly flowing into complete shutdown, threatening to turn you into an emotionless shell for unknown period of time, when several warm, big hands intervene and cut the depressing trajectory down at its root.

"Damn, we did a shit job fucking all your thoughts out, didn't we, angel?" Kyle's joke sounds soft, teasing, but empathetic, ready to be met with sobs or silence instead of the usual laughter that flashes your teeth at him and makes his own smile grow brighter.

"Aye, we did. If anythin', Ah think we put more thoughts intae 'ere instead," Johnny scratches his head dramatically, and then you feel his big, hot palm on you sweaty forehead, as if he's trying to get a feel of the thoughts inside your skull. It doesn't linger there for long, though, rough fidgety fingers digging into your hair and tugging at the roots. This makes the hot-and-cold collar around your nape unclench, uncouth and chaotic massage confidently pulling every ounce of anger out of your brain. From time to time his calloused palm slips lower, squeezing your scruff, wiping the cool sweat away and taking control over what seems to have escaped your own.

"How does it feel to be the first person to get knocked up mentally, love? Having any cravings yet? Feeling your brainworms kick yet?" Dry cotton comforter suddenly covers your exposed to be looked at with disdain body, and before you can choke out a protest and something about you being sweaty and sticky and disgusting, Kyle grips your shoulders firmly, rubbing up and down as he slowly helps you sit up a bit.

"Ye eejit, how dae ye think thay can kick? They're brainworms, thay dinnae hae any legs!" The sheer passion in Johnny's heated counterarguement does the impossible - makes the corners of your deeply upset mouth twitch against all the weight the sadness put on them. Your knights in shining (from all the sweat your lovemaking covered them with) armor of their own warm skin seem to not notice the slightest twitch of your lips - there's no excessive attention drawn to you, none of them puts you on the spot. Their touch isn't going anywhere, but it almost seems mindless, simply their need to have something soft and pleasant to squeeze in their restless hands. "'N' wasnae Mary th' first lassie tae get up th' duff through th' heid?"

"That wasn't mentally, that was spiritually, read your books, Soap," scoffs Kyle, as if it was the most obvious thing, and ducks just in time to avoid a pillow thrown at him with sniper's precision.

"Oi, ye sayin' Ah cannae read now?!" Whatever snarky retort Kyle was ready to shoot, gets wiped out as Johnny tackles him, barely avoiding pushing all three of you off the bed. Their scuffle consists of chokeholds and sneaky kisses, legs getting caught in the sheets and somehow tangling you into the mess too.

Until you laugh, finding yourself squished into Johnny's hairy chest with Kyle in a gently headlock somewhere under your arm.

"Hey, hey, careful, mate, our lovie's expecting, we can't just throw 'em around!" However obvious that deflection is, Johnny reacts as if you were actually with child and grabs your face, boring his eyes into yours, slowly widening his two blue lochs in pretend horror.

"Och naw! Ah think we lost 'em, Ah cannae see nothin' there now!" Flushed after the playfight, you avert your gaze, still a trace of self-consciousness about yout outburst somewhere deep inside, but none of the "brainworms" that clogged your insides in sight indeed. Johnny's little drama earns him a soft nip on his thumb from you, and he smiles at you, clearly satisfied with the effect their little scheme had.

"Aw, damn, and here I was, ready to hear the pitter-patter of 'em little feet," Kyle's warm lips somehow find their way to kiss your temple, eliciting another shy giggle.

A pillow crashes onto both of you with the force of a small bombshell.

"THAY DINNAE HAE FEET, GARRICK, THAY'RE WORMS!"

Price and Gaz fall into their usual ways seamlessly, responsibilities and tasks split between the two seemingly without even any verbal communication. Clearing out the space around you with the same quick efficiency they clear out enemies with, they prop you up on some pillows, assess your condition in case they got carried away and hurt you, and finally settle on both sides of you, warm hands on your knees squeezing softly.

"Are ya gonna talk to us now, lovie? Or will we have to use interrogation tactics to learn what made our love so upset?" John's voice bears no trace of threat, but it still makes you cower and try to take up even less space that your curled up body already has, which earns you a sigh from the Captain. "I see. Take over from here, Sergeant. I expect results once I return."

The matress sighs with relief a Price's weight leaves it, bare feet padding a few steps before he reaches his slippers and leaves the room. The pit that the sound of your bedroom's door closing opens in your chest is crushing your ribcage with the iron fist of vacum. You can't blame John for not willing to deal with your bullshit, but the hearbreak only reenforces the choking smog in your head that's rasping in a hundred different voices that the only thing you deserve is pure repulsion.

Kyle's soft thumb pads wipe the tears teetering on the arrows of your lashes, and in a smooth movement you find your face cupped and pulled close to his shoulder. His smooth skin sticks to your wet cheek and you find yourself crying like a little kid, the unbearable pain of the revolting dark knots inside somehow replaced with surprisingly more bearable grief over what you consider an ending reltionship. Perhaps John leaving our bed finally shattered your heart, letting the ungodly pressure out and allowing it to beat - and bleed - again.

"We'd really like if ya talked to us, angel. Don't think Captain can stand there bare-ass naked much longer, might catch rheumatism at this point, he's not getting younger, you know..."

"I hope you know I can hear you perfecrly clear, Garrick." You stop mid-sniffle, eyes snapping to the closed door. You can finally see the shadow of a man standing just outside, and the air slowly feels with some flavour you can't distinguish through all the snot yet, but seem to like a lot...

"Good, so your hearing's still intact, sir. You're in good shape," Kyle's cheeky remark must've broken John's famous patience and restraint, because the bedroom door finally opens, and you see him there. With a tray with a whole bunch of tea mugs and little plates of treats balanced in his hands.

"Still not talking? Well, we'll try another method then, lovie. Sandwich for your thoughts, eh?"

His cheeks are round with a kind smile, confusing your tortured mind even further - Kyle uses your stupor to fetch John's big, slightly scratchy bathrobe, successfully wrapping you into a cocoon of grounding stimulation all over your feverish skin. With a huff and a grumble about staying butt-naked a bit longer, John puts a pleasantly warm mug into your hands and looks at you, arms crossed and tucked into his armpits now that he got rid of the tray.

Expecting an answer.

"'M sorry..." seems appropriate right up to the moment when a little finger-sandwich gets shoved into your mouth. The bread is soft, nice, salty ham and crunchy cucumber filling your senses and cracking a bit fat line of light right in the middle of the dense cloud in your thoughts.

"Try again, love," Kyle gives a hint and wipes a crumb off your lips, licking it off his thumb. "We don't need an apology, we just want to know what's troubling ya. John, tell 'em."

"Already did," grumbles Price in response and clears his throat, sitting back down on the creaking bed. "Food's working though. Eat up, darling, get your energy. Then we'll talk properly, a'right?"

You chew slowly, still stiff in your own body, but regaining control gradually. Yes. Then you'll talk.

Ghost and Price exchange a single glance over your from, choking on the self-destructive rage, and John shakes his head so slightly that one can barely notice, but it's clear enough to stop Simon from tumbling down the traumatic spiral staircase of his own. Grounded by his Captain's presence, he shrugs his broad shoulders, shaking off the creeping up feeling of his own monsterous nature, and rolls onto his back, pulling you out of the miserable wet ball of wrinkled sheets and onto his firm lap, sideways, his big palms resting comfortably around your hips; he's not squeezing or digging his fingers into the fat like he usually does, but it's a secure hug you can't really escape.

Exposed held too far away from his chest you could hide on, you shrink, rising your shoulders protectively and trying to cover up your soft belly, spilling over your pelvis in a shapless manner - that's when John's arms come from behind, catching yours and instead of pulling away forcefully, simply repeating your own safety cocoon, hiding your body from your distorted sight and keeping you warm.

"You're not thinking straight right now, darling," every phrase he murmurs gently, calmly, convincingly into your ear is accompanied by a little kiss, beard tickling and burning your already irritated by tears skin. "So good for us, so kind. Can you spare some of that kindness for yourself?"

Even though it doesn't sound like a rhethorical question, Simon cups your cheek and shushes you tenderly, pressing his thumb to your lips, allowing John to continue with his little speech aimed to dispel the storm coagulated in your chest.

"'Cos if not, it's a'right, love. We know it's hard, and ya're doing good already. Ya 'ave us, eh? To love ya, to cherish ya. No need to overthink, jus' let us hold you, a'right?"

He finally pushes you onto Simon's chest, his big heart stuttering with worry as you seek shelter among his many scars that paint a horrifying picture once you put all the fragments together.

"How'd you do that, sir?" Simon's voice sounds vulnerable - so much that it strikes through all the layers of your egocentric self-hatred and shifts you almost immeditely into a completely different mindset; one where you throw your whole self into loving your scarred and battle-worn men in such abundance that it's ought to compensate for all the unfairness they've gone through.

There's no need for it now, you realize a little too late: Price is there, keeping Simon away from the darkness. They're fine. Better than ever. It's a distraction, a trick, a play to make your bleeding heart stop the internal self-destruction and turn to healing.

A sly little switch you're not sure they were planning to flip, but it worked.

"Hm?" As if emerging from the depths of his thoughts in response to Simon's question, John caresses your cheek as gently as his rough thumb can and then smiles, maybe catching onto the change in your mood or simply remembering all the times he pulled Ghost out of the same gloom and darkness. "Jus' taking care of me own, Simon. Tha's what a Captain does, no? Now, love, how about a shower? I reckon we can squeeze in all together and papmer you really good, what do ya say, eh?"

Ghost and Gaz manage to keep their cool. Kyle's confident and gentle presence serves to reassure any doubts Simon has about hurting you, he shoots a single glance at his sergeant and recieves support immediately. Two pair of hands cradle you with all the tenderness two soldiers are capable of, which is always enough to drown you in fully. It's a tight hug, a hot mess of limbs, too much skin on skin contact that makes your brain flare with undirected rage, but as seconds trickle by and you're still trapped between two firm bodies, you have no choice but to slip into the exhaustion phase of your outburst.

It's not pleasant, nor could you say you feel calm; if anything, you just petrify, a permanent frown on your face and blindly staring forward glass eyes. You're tired, you'd still rather be anywhere but inside your own body that still feels like a useless deformed bag that should be gutted and emptied to lighten up, inner layer of your skin scrubbed with a knife to peel off the suffocating thickness of fat trapping this heated rage inside...

Instead, you get a kiss.

It's Kyle, soft, full lips touching your wet with tears cheekbone, then again - your temple, your cheek, the overheated spot behind your ear. They're light, soft kisses, too gentle to be playful or arousing. Calming. They do not demand anything in return - he allows you to stay in your inner world where you feel secure, even pauses to kiss Simon the same way right in front of your eyes. A silent demonstrationg of the love and reverence these pecks carry, Simon's hooded eyes fluttering shut as if his own compartmentalized demons get exorcised by Garrick's touch.

"Wanna talk about it, angel?" Kyle's voice rumbles at a nice, grounding, smooth timbre, and your still-too-slow mind struggles to grasp how is it possible that he's talking and you're still getting kisses - until you recognize the uneven texture of Simon's scarred lips, trailing along your skin tenderly. "Whenever you're ready, love. But we would love to know what's going through your head right now."

It feels strange to say it out lound when you're held and caressed like this, but their kisses and solid embrace cleared your windpipe enough of the mental gunk for you to be able to speak.

"I hate myself... 'M disgusting, and-" A displeased grumbling kiss from Simon interrupts you, and even Kyle pushes his huge shoulder to reprimand his own Lieutenant for the interference. Kisses his temple immediately to make amends, though, and turns back to you, prompting you to continue.

"Wot? Don't like when someone talks shit 'bout mine," grumbles Simon like a dog that got flicked on the nose for growling at welcome guests.

"Let 'em talk, mate, it's good to get things off your chest." At least their little bickering coaxes a tiniest hint of smile out of you, and Simon, noticing it immediately, stares back at Kyle with such pride, as if he just did something great.

The thing is, in the way his arms squeeze you a tad bit tighter, pressing into his firm body, you can read that for him - your smile is the greatest achievement.

"Don't tell me you prefer his silent treatement, angel, I'm trying to be the attentive boyfriend here, and for what?" Your smile grows a little braver. A little brighter. You would've kept talking if you could remember what it was that hurt so fucking much in your chest.

"Shower. Then a cuppa. Then we have the talk." No one dares to argue with the Ghost and his gruff commands. You feel the sheet sticking to your skin as he lifts you up, Kyle already sneaking off to prepare towels and clean clothes for you three. He'll stay with you and help you wash the remaints of the mind attack off. Simon will make fresh tea.

You're going to be alright.

Price and Soap take quite an intense approach the second they notice your distress. You feel Johnny's weight disappear from you after the first strangled sob that escapes you, and if you could open your eyes glued shut by the hot, messy tears, you would see John practically dragging the poor Sergeant away by his scruff. It's easy to suspect that Johnny couldn't contain himself and went too hard, too rough on you - with no malice, but pure passion that's spilling from his big, hot heart every time he gets to be close to you.

But it's not Johnny's fault, neither is it John's. It's all you, a useless, pathetic thing, good for nothing and holding two gorgeous men to yourself like a greedy glutton hoarding delicious food.

"Ah'm sorry, bonnie- ow, Ah got it, Ah got it, Ah'm not touchin'!"

"Did we hurt ya, love? Was Johnny boy too rough wit' ya? Wha's wrong?"

You feel big warm hands gliding over your skin, quick assessment of your state in search of potential harm caused. This immediate care only makes you feel worse, every cold sweaty patch of your disgusting hide shivering and twitching under Captain's careful touch. You struggle against your own spiraling anger, fight it with what's left of your exhausted resilience - and lose, curling up with another burst of tears, shoving the loving hands away and dusting the lingering warmth off your body.

After all, you do not deserve to be treated with such kindness after the fit you just threw.

"No, no, no, it's not his fault, it's not Johnny's... it's me, it's my fault, it's all my fault, I ruin everything, I'm- I'm disgusting!"

The silence that follows you blowing up on them is heavy. Just as bad as the knot in your chest.

"Johnny."

When you open your eyes to find a way out, run away, scatter and hide in the furthest corner of the apartment until everyone who tried caring for you leaves again, you're met with Johnny's bright blue eyes, glistening with unshed tears.

It's a shocking sight, pushing you out of the muffled misery into an alerted worry - his face is red with unexplainable pained anger, fists clenched as John holds him tightly by hunched shouders, seemingly trying to prevent a violent outburst.

"Ah wanntae ken names of th' bastarts who made ye feelin' tis wa'. Ah swear Ah will mak' thaim fuckin' choke oan thair ain tongues, Ah'll rip thair spines oot 'n' shove thaim up thair-" - "Enough, Johnny. Stand down. This won't solve anythin'. Ya calm down and help our lovie feel better, a'right?"

Still a bit shells-hocked, you stir on the bedsheets and push yourself up to sit upright, stretching your arms hesitantly to the men in a weak attempt to remedy whatever shitstorm you caused in their minds.

"Don't get mad, please," you whisper sheepishly, and the shy sound of your still choked voice seems to wash Johnny's explosive anger away better than the firm grip of his handler's (Price's) hands. With a look of a beaten dog, Johnny huffs loudly, cuddlng up to you and hiding his face in your lap. His heavy jaw sinks in the plush of your thighs, accomodated nicely with the softness of your body.

"'M nae mad at ye, leannan. Jus' dinnae say tha' again, a'right, bonnie? If ye need me tae prove ye-"

"No..." your hand finds it place in his damp mohawk and brushes through, while you glance at John. His eyes are shimmering with love and love only as he looks at you and Johnny, and you feel a wave of shyness - the good, giddy, warm kind - replacing the paralyzing shame. "I'm fine already. With you."

"Maybe we should 'ave a little chat 'bout it, love," John's hand meets yours on the sad mutt's head in your lap, intertwinig fingers with you through Johnny's soft hair. "When ya feel better. Jus' so we know what we're dealing with, eh?"

"Yeah. A bit later. Thank you."

All four of your men get frozen witnessing your reaction, struck with a horrifying sense of helplessness - it feels like the biggest failure among many unsuccessful missions, operations where lives were lost and enemies missed, to have you curling up and crying in misery between all the love they've been pouring onto you just mere seconds ago. As if everything they touch is bound to go up in flames, drown in blood and rot, be it on the outside or from the inside.

They're lost, and as always, they turn to the Captain, giving themselves up for him to direct, trusting that he knows better what use they can be of.

And, frankly, he does.

They're barely talking, but the commotion around you is decipherable even through the red mind fog and closed eyes - it honestly only makes you feel worse, unsafe, exposed, despite that simply being Soap, sent off to fill a bath ("Ye want it hot or a tad bit cool, bonnie?" - Silence. Your nails dig into your scalp, the soud of someone simply breathing, even more so talking to you, sending you into a new fit of rage. "Make it warm, Johnny, we'll adjust later."), and Simon, leaving for tea duty - silently, your favourite way to have it attentively observed in the first two weeks you've been together and memorized ever since.

It's Kyle whose voice, murmuring into your ear sweet, reassuring nothings as he keeps you caged in a tight embrace, your back pressed against his warm chest, forces you out of the highly irritable state. You have no choice between his short, chaste kisses on the crown of your overloaded head, and John's calloused hands massaging your calves, soft flesh dipping under the firm pressure.

"Ya jus' focus on fighting tha' storm off, a'right, darling? We'll take care of th' rest. It happens, we know it does, 's not your fault. Jus' a funny lil' thing your mind does, eh? Yeah, love, we know wha' it's like when your mind does funny things. Don't we, Kyle?"

"That we do." Maybe it's just your own depressive state rubbing off on them or distorting your perception, but Kyle's voice sounds almost solemn. You would turn to look into the smoky quartz of his eyes, but either he holds you too tight, or you have barely any strength left in your upset body - you simply can't.

Maybe it's alright. Maybe tonight they don't need you ripping your heart out to tend to their restless minds, and you can just allow them to take care of you.

Allow Kyle to carry you to the bathroom.

Allow John to stay there and help you wash yourself with a nice, scrubby loofah.

Allow Johnny to bring in his huge, baggy loungewear that doesn't hug your curves too snugly and allows you to simply forget what you were so angry about for a while.

Allow Simon to serve you perfect temperature tea in your favourite mug and keep you quiet company on the balcony, night air cooling your wet and clean now skin and hair further and blowing all thoughts out of your troubled head away.

As you share a cigarette with rich clove aftertaste, breathing ironically becomes easier. Behind your back the bedsheets are being changed, proper meal is being cooked, a good movie you won't be upset falling asleep to is being chosen.

"Simon." - "Hm." - "You sure you're okay with me being like that?" - "Standin' in the wind with your hair wet, tryin' to catch a cold?"

You grunt, not appreciating him taking the piss while you're tryig to be vulnerable, but allow him to pull the hood of Johnny's hoodie onto your head.

"No. I mean, fucked up in the head?"

You don't actually know what answer you expect. With an unreadable expression, Simon turns his head, looking through the glass door at the men crowded in the living room and waiting for you, and then stares back at you with a smirk, a permanent scowl carved into it by someone's cruel hand.

"Nah. Tha's how I like 'em."

He throws the cigarette butt away and chuckles, cupping the back of your head and pulling you inside, into the warmth of home.

"Oi, bonnie! C'mere, As saved ye a spot." There is no spot as you look at the two-story cuddle pile on the sofa and the blanket nest in front of it, unless of course... ah, yes, Johnny's patting his lap. "Ah promise Ah'll behave. Mostly."

And as his warmth envelops you through a big hug, his hands clenched humbly on your belly and behaving indeed, you feel stupidly happy.

Because you're enjoying touch again.

[tetsuswaifu]

Happy Birthday Rinnie

Suna celebrates his birthday reluctantly with his friends and you, but the night ends with heartfelt confessions and an unspoken shift in your relationship.

word count: 2230

a/n: rinnies bday was the perfect motivation to get back into writing, i have a lot of stuff in the works plus a masterlist that'll be coming up soon, hope you enjoy :) i posted this a day late by accident, oh well 🫶🏼

likes, reblogs, replies, and requests are always appreciated, thank you for taking the time to read my work :)

Suna didn’t want a big celebration. Birthdays, in his opinion, were just another day. But you and his friends thought otherwise, insisting on taking him out for his special day. The venue—a karaoke room—was the last place he expected to be celebrating. You and the boys had promised it would be a 'chill night,' filled with drinks and the usual good vibes, just like any other hangout. Yet here he was, slouched in a booth, arms crossed, and wearing an unimpressed expression as Atsumu butchered yet another song.

At least you had been thoughtful enough to kick things off earlier with a quieter gesture—showing up at his place earlier in the day with a bag of his favorite candy, chupets, and a birthday card with a cute note written inside.

"You didn't have to," he said as he took the bag, glancing down at the card in your handwriting.

"I know," you'd replied with a shrug, your tone casual but warm. "But it's your birthday. I figured someone should spoil you a little," a soft smile on your face as you made eye contact.

"Thank you." he gave you a small nod and tucked the bag into his hoodie pocket—but you caught the faintest hint of a smile as he read the card.

Now, as Atsumu's voice cracked in the worst way possible, Suna popped one of the chupets into his mouth, enjoying the fruity flavor. He didn't even try to hide his smirk as the rest of the table burst into laughter at Atusmu's expense.

"Are you tone-deaf, or are you doing this on purpose?" Suna deadpanned, taking a sip of his drink.

"Oi, I sound fantastic!" Atsumu barked back, gripping the mic like his life depended on it. "Y/N's probably swoonin' right now!"

You snorted in response, unable to hold back your laughter. "If by 'swooning' you mean trying not to cry from secondhand embarrassment, then yeah, sure."

Osamu nearly spat out his drink, doubling over with laughter, while Suna let out a quiet chuckle beside you. "Sounds about right," Suna muttered in agreement, smirking.

"I will give it to you, you at least have some what of a stage presence," you teased Atsumu.

Suna tilted his head slightly toward you, "Stage presence doesn't save him from being terrible, though."

You chuckled, nudging his arm. "You're one to talk, Mr. 'I'll Just Sit in the Corner and Judge Everyone'. When's your turn?"

He didn't reply right away. Instead, he casually pulled out his phone and aimed it at Atsumu, who was currently belting out a high note so off-key that even the karaoke machine seemed to struggle keeping up.

"What are you doing?" you asked, leaning closer to peek at his screen.

"Documenting this," he said flatly, his thumb tapping the screen to record. "For posterity. Or blackmail."

You burst out laughing, trying to keep quiet so Atsumu wouldn't notice. "He's gonna kill you when he finds out." You paused, "Also, send me that, would you?"

"He won't, and you bet," he replied, completely unfazed. "I've got a whole folder of these. He's never caught on."

Your laughter only grew, and you had to stifle it with your hand. Meanwhile, Atsumu threw his whole body into the final note, eyes closed like he was performing for an audience of thousands.

"Perfect," Suna muttered under his breath as he ended the recording, tucking his phone back into his pocket with the faintest smirk of satisfaction.

Suna raised an eyebrow at your previous comment, his tone dripping with mock disbelief. "Also, do you really think I'm gonna get up there and make a fool of myself? On my birthday?" holding his hand up to his chest with slight sass. "Yeah, no thanks."

"Who said you had to be good?" you said with a grin. "Just sing something. It's your birthday, Suna. Live a little." you softly nudged his arm again.

Before he could respond, Atsumu's voice cracked in the worst way possible, all of you erupting in laughter. Even Suna couldn't hold back the chuckle that escaped him.

"Okay, okay, that's enough of you," Osamu said, pulling the mic out of his twin's hands. "I'll save the night. Lemme show you how it's done."

"Good luck followin' that act of brilliance," Atsumu slurred, flopping into the seat beside you.

Osamu rolled his eyes as he chose a vocally demanding song. His smooth, steady voice filling the room as the group quieted to listen. You leaned closer to Suna, your shoulder brushing his. "See? Not so bad when someone who can actually sing is up there," you whispered.

Suna hummed in agreement, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye. "You're next," he said suddenly.

Your eyes widened. "Wait, what? No, I—"

"Yup. It's settled," Suna said, cutting you off as he leaned back in his seat. "You made me come here. Least you can do is sing something. Fair trade."

"But I wasn't the one complaining," you protested, your voice hushed as Osamu continued his song.

Suna's lips curved back into a smirk, his tone teasing. "You don't wanna leave me hanging on my birthday, do you?" He challenged you with his eye contact.

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. "I hate you."

"No, you don't," he said, clearly enjoying himself.

When Osamu's song ended, you all clapped, and Atsumu immediately began scrolling through the song list for his next pick. Before he could choose, Suna casually pointed at you.

"Your turn," he announced, his voice calm but loud of enough to catch the twins attention.

They turned to you, and you shot Suna a glare. He looked completely unbothered, a lazy grin on his face as he leaned on the table.

"Do it!" Atsumu cheered, slapping the table. "C'mon Y/N, let's hear that beautiful voice!"

"Don't worry, it's just us, Y/N," Osamu said, far less obnoxious but still encouraging.

With no escape from this scenario, you sighed dramatically and grabbed the mic. "Fine, but if I'm embarrassing myself, I'm blaming you," jutting your chin in Suna's direction.

"You'll be great," he said, his smirk softening into something almost fond.

You scrolled through the long song list, your nerves easing a bit when you found one you liked. As the music started, you took a deep breath, trying to ignore the way Suna's eyes stayed on you.

The guy's cheered you on as you sang, Atsumu waving his arms like you were performing in an arena. Even Suna, who usually masked his emotions, looked quietly impressed, his lips twitching into a smile when you hit the chorus. When you finished, they erupted into applause and yells of praise. You put the mic back in the stand and returned to your seat with a flushed face.

"See?" Suna said as you sat back down, slightly breathless from your performance. "Not bad."

"Not bad?" Atsumu repeated, still waving his arms around. "That was amazing! Ya totally showed me up!"

"Not a hard thing to do," Osamu deadpanned, but his tone was warm as he gave you an approving nod. "Good job. Saved the night after 'Tsumu nearly burst everyone's eardrums."

"Hey!" Atsumu shot back, attempting to glare at his twin but slumping further into his seat, his head lolling against the backrest.

You stifled a laugh, leaning closer to Suna. "I think he's officially tapped out for the night," you murmured.

Suna glanced at Atsumu, then Osamu, his expressiuon unreadable but his eyes sharp. "Yeah, he can barely keep his head up. Let's wrap it up before someone has to carry him out."

"Yeah, you read my mind, pal," Osamu was already standing to gather their things. "C'mon, 'Tsumu. Time to go."

"Guy's, I'm fine!" Atsumu protested, throwing an arm around his brothers shoulders. "Let's do another round!"

"Yeah, no." Osamu replied flatly, struggling to hold his twin upright with a grunt. "Y/N, thanks for tonight. Suna, happy birthday and make sure you get home in one piece, yeah?"

"Always do," Suna said with a shrug, standing and stuffing his hands into his pockets.

"Thanks for coming, guys," you said, waving at the twins as they stumbled toward the door together. Osamu shot you a grateful look, while Atsumu was too busy humming a tune to notice much of anything.

When the door closed behind them, the karaoke room felt quieter, more intimate. Suna was leaning against the wall now, his eyes fixed on you.

"So," you said, grabbing your belongings. "Guess it's just us now."

"Guess so," he replied, pushing his shoulders off the wall and falling into step beside you as you walked out of the bar. The night air was cooler than you expected, making you wrap your jacket tighter around yourself.

The two of you walked in companionable silence for a while, the muffled sounds of the city filling the gaps between your words. You could feel his presence beside you—calm, steady, but something in his silence felt... different tonight.

"You know," you said breaking the quiet, "I didn't think you'd actually enjoy tonight."

Suna's hands were stuffed into his hoodie pocket, his gaze focused ahead, but there was a flicker of something soft in his expression. "I didn't think I would either."

You gave him a sideways glance, your lips twitching into a smile. "But you did, right?"

He let out a soft chuckle, his hooded eyes meeting your gaze. "Yeah. Especially now that I have those embarrassing videos of Atsumu drunk." He paused, "But yeah, you got me. It wasn't as bad as I thought.

You laughed, "Wow, high praise," you teased, your voice light. "Maybe I should've gotten you a cake too."

Suna stopped walking suddenly, and you turned to look at him in surprise. His gaze was uncharacteristically serious.

"Y/N," he said quietly, taking his hands out of his pocket. “Thanks. For tonight. For dragging me out, for putting up with all of it… for just… being there.” He reached a hand out to grab one of yours, giving it a squeeze.

Your cheeks warmed under his gaze, squeezing his hand back. Smiling up at him, “I told you—you deserve to be celebrated, even if you don’t think so.”

He stared at you a moment longer, taking in all your beautiful features. He sighed, shaking his head as he looked down at your entertwined hands, “You’re too good to me,” he muttered.

Before you could respond, Suna pulled you closer with the hand he was holding. You barely had a moment to register the shift before your back met the cool surface of the wall of the nearby building. His eyes, usually so calm and unreadable, were now searching yours, filled with something you couldn't quite place—but it made your heart race.

"Do you have any idea," his voice low, careful, "how much I... how much tonight meant to me?"

You opened your mouth to respond, but the words didn't come. Before you could find them, Suna leaned in, brushing his lips against yours, testing, waiting. The hesitation melted away as you leaned into him, your fingers gripping the front of his hoodie to pull him closer.

The kiss deepened, slow but fervent, like he was pouring everything he couldn't say into it. His hand slid up to cup your face, his thumb brushing your cheek in a way that sent a warm shiver down your spine. He kissed you as if the world had narrowed down to just the two of you, the city noise fading into a distant hum.

When he pulled back, it was only for a moment—just enough to catch his breath, his forehead pressing against yours. His hand lingered on your cheek, his touch grounding and soft.

"You make everything better. You're the best thing that's happened to me in a long time," he whispered, his voice soft but carrying a weight that made your chest tighten in the best way.

You smiled, your fingers still gripping the front of his hoodie. "You're such a sap tonight," you teased lightly, your voice slightly breathless but warm.

"Don't tell anyone," he replied, the corner of his mouth twitching up into a smirk. "Gotta keep my reputation intact."

You laughed softly, the sound easing the intensity of the moment. "Your secret's safe with me."

Suna pulled back just enough to see your eyes, something unspoken passing between you. Then, without a word, he reached for your hand, lacing his fingers with yours as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

The two of you started walking again, the quiet city streets stretching ahead. The chill in the air seemed to fade, the warmth of his hand grounding you as you walked side by side.

"So," you began, glancing at him out of the corner of your eye. "Does this mean you owe me now for dragging you out tonight? Maybe next time you're the one planning something fun."

"Don't push your luck," he said, though the squeeze of his hand against yours betrayed his dry tone.

"Noted," you replied with a grin.

The conversation shifted easily, flowing into a casual back-and-forth as if nothing monumental had just happened between you. But as you glanced at your intertwined hands, a warm sense of certainty settled over you.

Whatever this was between you and Suna, it didn't need to be said aloud. It was already understood.

[shoophise]

Hello again, between the new fic and your thoughts on it, I had more to ask (hopefully it isn't annoying, I'm just veeeery in love with this au)

The idea of sonic fighting shadow only to falter at the last second had me almost sobbing, you really can feel his exhaustion and I will probably go to the author blog to express how in love I am with it, but I wanted to pick your brain about the whole ordeal. What do you think it would take for shadow to be fully conscious in his Hyper state or is it simply impossible? I thought it imposible until this fic put the idea out there and the angst is just too good. Do you see and end to the madness? I see very little options in the horizon aside from killing shadow, but do you see another way out? If both live getting out of those forms, how would they deal with it? I can't see neither coping well with the aftermath.

I'll leave it at that to not be too annoying about it, but just know that this whole au has me frothing at the mouth.

(Also, I would like to ask -if you wish for me to keep gushing about this au of course- if you would prefer them being asked in Spanish or English? I noticed your bio but I dunno which one you prefer, and as a bilingual myself (🇨🇱) I can do both)

Hihi i’m fine with spanish too but since most people in the fandom speak english I think it’s better if I stick w it for now

Si me preguntan en español responderé en español eso si ^-^ no quiero dejar a los hispanos fuera de la fiesta lol soy de Colombia 🇨🇴 saludos ! :3

Now to answer your question, I think I have to explain my whole view of why Hyper form is different for Sonic and Shadow. The main reason is Sonic being so used to getting so many forms, he doesn’t really get affected by it.

Shadow is not Sonic, he’s stuck in the past, he struggles to adapt and move on, he suffers most of the time, and Hyper form is basically the first time he has felt pure happiness. I don’t see him gaining consciousness at all until he goes back to normal.

And not even that will be because he wants to, but because he’s FORCED to go back to normal.

But, I’m really open to any interpretation of it honestly, not all things have to be the way I say it, yes i’m the one with the idea but everyone can take it and give it their own interpretation of it, I’m happy to see different perspectives!

Mine is that Hyper Shadow while he may gain consciousness for a few minutes, at the end he will go back to his delusional state one way or another. You cannot “escape” the effects of a drug even if you want to.

And yes, the aftermath of this will hit hard, specially to Shadow, but that’s another story 😭

I hope that answers your question? I’m sorry if it doesn’t, i just don’t want to spoil the whole story bc where’s the fun in that? I have to surprise you guys somehow lol

[a-vibing-potato]

Season 4 of Supernatural is eating me alive. I watched episodes 2 and 3 yesterday, and haven't gotten a chance to watch any yet today but it's killing meeeee.

I didn't realize how different Cas was going to be from the clips and pictures I've seen of him on here and around the Internet, so that's definitely something I'm still adjusting to. I thought he'd be a lot more open I guess for some reason?? Even though that doesn't make sense since he's literally just met Dean. So I had to wrap my head around that change, but then thought, "Oh, he'll probably be like how he is in Lazarus Rising then." and he's not really like that either????

I don't know, in Lazarus Rising I feel like he was so talkative, looked at Dean all the time, etc. and in the last two episodes it's like a 50-50 chance whether he'll even say anything in response to Dean talking to him, and he never looks at Dean. I get that he's like that, but I thought he talked?? And the super vague answers, like I thought he'd be somewhat of an overexplainer, maybe he is later on in the show and I just need to be patient and realize that Season 4 Cas is not like Season 9 Cas lol.

Also very confused about the different "Missions from God" he seems to be sending Dean on and what the goal of them is. In episode 2, Dean and Sam and Bobby had to fight off the witnesses, but they failed and one of the 66 seals was unlocked (that's a whole other problem I'll talk about in a minute lol) and Cas seemed disappointed? At least to me he did, he's not really the most expressive guy lol. But I thought he seemed disappointed like he thought they could defeat the witnesses, and they couldn't and that's literally their first test? Like if they can't pass their first test what are we supposed to do??

But then in the third episode, he sends Dean back in time to "Stop it." AND DOESN'T EVEN SAY WHAT "IT" IS, but Dean assumes it to be the Yellow-Eyed Demon killing his mom (and the whole time I was watching the episode I was like... "Would Cas really want him to do such a history-altering, timeline-changing thing?" and I didn't think so but what else are we to assume when he just tells us to stop "it"?).

But I digress. But then when Dean can't stop the Yellow-Eyed Demon (and the two wolves inside of my were FIGHTING oh my gosh. Half of me was trying to comfort myself and be like "There was actually no way he could have stopped it, there's nothing he could have done. He did everything he possibly could have, there's no way." but the other half of me was like "CRAP... we failed our second test and why can't we pass any of them and are we supposed to be passing them because I don't even know???") But then Cas acts like it's okay that he couldn't stop it. Like. Why did you tell him to go stop it if you KNEW he couldn't and then he couldn't. Which, then he kinda turns it into a lesson about how all roads lead to one and you can't avoid your destiny yada yada yada. And implies that he made him go back in time so that he could "know all that angels know/know as much as they do", so whatever, that's fine.

But I'm just confused on the goal and point and purpose of the missions? Are we supposed to be winning them? Are we winning them? Do we not necessarily need to win them and we're just learning lessons along the way or what is going on? Because I feel like they should be preparing us for the Literal Apocalypse that is coming and we aren't passing them and we aren't ready. But maybe I'm wrong and just feel that way because that's kinda how the last three seasons have been set up and Season 4 is different.

Anyway, the Seals. I'm also scared that we are going to run out of Seals and they're all going to get unlocked (which, I mean Season FIVE spoilers I guess because I've been spoiled, I guess that they do get unlocked because Lucifer gets out at the end of Season 4 or beginning of Season 5, but that doesn't stop me from worrying. I knew that Dean wasn't ACTUALLY going to be stuck in Hell for forever at the end of Season 3 and I still didn't want him to die.) But Cas says that they're fighting all kinds of different wars and tons of angels are dying WEEKLY, so I'm afraid that if we keep failing our tests, more seals are going to get unlocked, and we don't even know what's going on elsewhere. We could already be down to only ten Seals left or something, we aren't in charge of EVERY single Seal. Hence another reason why I'm so worried about us failing our tests from God or Cas or whatever.

I don't know. I have so many questions about Cas and what he knows and what he's doing when he's not with us. Fighting wars and everything, but I want to know the specifics lol. Also.... when Cas isn't with us, is Jimmy Novak, the vessel, just living his normal life? Or is he dead? I'm so curious about the differences between angels with their vessels and demons with theirs, because there seems to be a lot of similarities, but I would guess there are also some differences. Is Jimmy Novak a "prisoner" (as much as he can be a "prisoner" when he prayed for this) in his own body like Meg said she was in hers and having to watch all the Destiel moments with his own eyes? Because I think that'd be really funny (also a little awkward, but hey).

But I'm adoring the "Dean being special to God and the angels and being an important person to them" and the "Sam being special to the Devil and the demons and being an important person to them" parallel, especially since you would think it'd be the other way around with Sam being with God and Dean with Lucifer. I love it :)

Next episode continues from Sam doing whatever probably evil things with Ruby, so I'm excited to see where that goes and what he's up to now. I feel like they laid the groundwork for that way back in the first episode of the season when he telepathically killed that girl in the diner with his eyes closed, so he's definitely up to something not great. Wondering what he could possibly be working towards or why he's letting out his more murderous, Prince of Hell powers now and why he, I assume, worked on them while Dean was dead and why he stopped trying to control them and forget about them. Crazy how in Season 3 he hadn't had any psychic vision stuff happen for ages, and now in Season 4 he's got more powers than he ever has before. He definitely had to have put some work in, but I'm curious as to why he would do that.

Random end thoughts: Where is Lilith? What is she doing? Probably breaking Seals and everything but she's such a huge ginormous root of our problems problem and also such a forgettable one at the same time somehow for me. Also Bela? Are we ever going to see her again? Probably not, I'm afraid she's going to end up like Ellen and Jo did where we didn't really hear about them after their introduction season, but I started to like her :( and I have questions about what happened to her. She probably just died to the Hell Hounds, but did Dean and her ever see each other in Hell? I have a lot of questions about Dean's time in Hell, actually. What demons did he see? Which demons hurt him? Did he see Bela, or John? Or Mary, if she's down there? What did they do to him? We've only had the flashes of the screaming and his eyes frantically looking back and forth, but there's so much room to put more horrible things that he witnessed and have him mention them later on.

Anyway, I can't wait. I saw a post on here once from someone (I don't know who otherwise I'd definitely tag them!) who said they had to continuously convince their friend to watch/keep watching the first three seasons of Supernatural, but when they got to Season 4 it was "all they thought about" and I think about that post about 27 times a day. Roughly. Lol. Because I loved the first three seasons and thought I was obsessed then, but Season 4?! Absolutely not, Cas being introduced has made my obsession so much worse. I'm literally at the stage of looking up what episodes he is and isn't in (so I know that he's not in the next three episodes :( I'm gonna miss him, but I know they'll be good nonetheless, especially because one of them is Yellow Fever :)). None of my other hobbies, hyperfixations, or interests are appealing to me right now, so that's the vibe lol. Loving my time with this show so much, but in classic hyperfixation style, I wish I didn't have any responsibilities and places I needed to be, and could just sit and watch for 16 hours straight without stopping.

But I might try to watch an episode now if I have time before supper, otherwise I'll watch later tonight. There's no way I'll get to Cas tonight, but maybe in the next day or two.

Love you all and hope you're doing great <3

[rosie-darling]

notes from whitepine episode 4!! bolded are my important thoughts

0:06 "i could scream and you both would be dead"

vi as a young genius (young enough to not be able to leave the house without an adult but old/clever enough to understand redstone)

2:01 "a button that can only be pressed if a condition is met"

3:44 ivory being comfortable around vi despite all the stuff about leniency and blackmail :)

3:56 i gotta be so fr. the redstone on the floor looked like blood when serapter walked in ALSO serapter suspect because he knows secret passages????? "i gave him the runaround" HOW

4:35 vi's little jumps of excitement 😭

4:49 he's so scary help "look a little happier" is craaaazy

6:16, 6:27, 6:49, 7:00, 18:47 - the detective watching ivory >:(

8:46 something about the way he says "yeah, the boring meetings" doesn't sit right with me like i trust pyro so much but …… hmm

10:32 he's havin a panakatak :( /ref

11:42 "i'll pay!" my SWEETHEART :(

12:08 "have you taken your break at all today?" and "don't work yourself to death over this job"

12:53 smth about the assumption that wild = scary "probably getting ready to mangle us or something" + mysti's cause of death, the camera angle from above that makes it seem like he's being watched, and "i've heard how protective mother bears are of their children that they'll like.. kill anything" - and !! "i wasn't sure if it was dead so i shot it a few more times just to reassure myself" - were the extra wounds to mysti done for the same reason?

13:27 izzy looking at zolister and then her food like his story makes her sick - i really really wonder what connections she has!!!

14:26 "i'm not just here for your dad's blessing" as in. for marriage???

14:50 izzy seems really baffled by him idk

15:50 the first pretty thing vi takes ivory to is the factory "my dad owns it" is crazy. and "there's no way people didn't die while building it"

16:11 am i going nuts or was that the sound of a train - generally that whole sequence felt like a flashback-inducing thing idk

17:00 vi just seems so happy to have a friend 😭

17:40 "we own this field" yes we know your dad is rich vi

17:51 there's no way that shed is uninhabited

19:10 i've heard the "bormethius stole the cot" theory but what about a "bormethius snatched the bag to get ivory to come to the art room" theory [the sound design here is SO good!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!]

20:43 ok hear me out. we suspect bormethius has a track record of stealing. i reckon he snatched the bag AND the cot - so, if he sees zam looking for him (while staying hidden, because he's not mentioned again), he can pretty easily extrapolate that ivy went to HIS room. ergo, he could steal something from zam's room and frame ivory so she's under even more scrutiny

22:17 could this be something to do with pyro? i know the obvious reason is overtiredness but pyro also was doing that….

23:31 why are we covering for ash………………. also "did you eat something spoiled" or POISONED???

ok i think i got everything. this episode was HEAVY on the analysis asjhdskhf

[pinkkop]

Another week has passed! And I'm still sticking to my weekly recap, though I know 2 weeks isn't super impressive but I'm sticking to this!! I've actually set up a whole system to make these posts and I'm probably going to make a post explaining how tomorrow (link to post)

As always, any constructive criticism is welcome and I'll probably keep improving this format for a while.

QL Recap for Week 2

The 6th of January to the 12th of January

🇹🇼 See Your Love

Episode 13 of 13 || Watching on: Gagaoolala

Final notes: This show was just so good and it definitely stuck the landing. Both couples were great, felt very fresh and I was super invested in both. If they'd had a longer runtime they could have definitely used more time on the core plot and the second couple but that's really more of a wish of mine. They used the time they had well and I can definitely see myself returning to this. And just the cherry on top of two great pairings came an interesting plot which didn't treat Shaopeng's disability as something to be fixed and instead showed all the ways he was perfect just the way he is.

🇹🇭 ThamePo Heart That Skips a Beat

Episode 5 of 13 || Watching on: Youtube

Another great episode! Was a little surprised that Thame hadn't realized he has feelings for Po yet but at least we got there now. I'm not entirely sure what Jun's problem is yet but at least it seems like Po knows he is up to something. Nano's fear of failure and desperate need to not feel like a burden to other people was so relatable and I'm really happy they all were there to help him understand that it's okay to rely on other people. It's safe to say I'm very invested in this show!

🇹🇭 The Heart Killers

Episode 7 of 12 || Watching on: Youtube

Oh this was delicious! Just the intricacies of Bison and Fadel now also knowing Kant and Style's motives and pretending they don’t. The BB gun scene was insane because it felt very close to home when Bison and Fadel are used to being out shooting people but this was just for pretend. Two things were said in this scene which I'd bet was foreshadowing: Style asking to be allowed to help which might mean he'll be shooting a real gun in the future and Kant saying he'll shield Bison which I'd bet means he'll try and shield Bison for real in the future and might actually get shot. Overall the acting in this episode was phenomenal!! Particularly the final boat scene was just *chef's kiss*

🇹🇭 Your Sky

Episode 9 of 12 || Watching on: iQiYi

Oh they are just the sweetest boyfriends!! Can't wait for Hia and Real to finally get their shit together and have a proper talk but luckily they'll take steps towards that next week. This show is just my happy space right now.

🇹🇭 Fourever You

Episode 16 of 17? || Watching on: Gray

I'm still one episode ahead but I wont spoil anything so don't worry if you haven't seen episode 16. I feel a little bad but I was pretty happy about having an episode for just Johan and North. I absolutely adore them so it was so great get more background story on them. For some reason I thought this show was only 16 episodes so I have no clue what the total nr. of episodes are anymore. I wouldn't mind a couple of more episodes with Johan and North as the focus though because they're the highlight of this show for me. I do also love seeing the two friend groups and their friendships which to be honest I could use more of. I love that even the very masculine group of friends have each others backs and are able to be vulnerable in with each other.

🇯🇵 Miseinen: Mijukuna Oretachi wa Bukiyo ni Shinkochu

Episode 10 of 10 || Watching on: Gagaoolala

Final notes: Oh these two! This was such a good story of living in a world that doesn't accept you. Just two lonely lost boys finding love and a home in each other. Even when they get their happy ever aften they still live in a society where they have to hide and it just breaks my heart. I just hope they find better friends. Overall I really liked this show and how it was produced. I could easily feel the pain of these two and put myself in their place. It was by no means perfect but it was a good little show with all the things that made me enjoy watching it.

🇹🇭 Petrichor

Episode 7 of 10 || Watching on: iQiYi

I'm still enjoying this very much and putting the killer in-between our two main characters was so delicious. The crime plot and the romance are heavily intertwined and one enhances the other. This was the same with Spare Me Your Mercy but also the reason why when SMYM didn't develop the relationship enough it also affected the rest of the plot. I don't find that this is the same problem here though.

🇹🇭 Caged Again

Episode 10 of 10 || Watching on: Gagaoolala

Final notes: This concept was absolutely bonkers but they made it work really well. I loved how they played into the animal characters because it made it feel more believable and original and fun. I fully believed that the two were transformed from specific animals and it made it great. It kinda lost it's magic towards it's end but I still think its well worth a watch.

🇹🇭 Perfect 10 Liners

Episode 12 of 24 || Watching on: Youtube

I'm still invested in Gun and Yotha, and I'm loving Arc's presence in their lives. I however was very confused about Aou and Boom's couple suddenly getting screen-time. I like these two as actors but since their characters came into this show already established and with very little screen-time before this week I'm not invested in them at all.

🇹🇭 The Boy Next World

Episode 2 of 10 || Watching on: iQiYi

This show is suffering from the large amount of shows airing on Sunday because I'm struggling to pay enough attention to actually get invested. The acting and production value is there and I like the plot a lot but I usually get to this third so I'm usually tired and anxious about in being Sunday when I get to it which isn't an easy situation to get into a new show.

🇯🇵 Futtara Doshaburi

Episode 1 of 7 || Watching on: Gagaoolala

I don't understand how you can slowly start moving your beds away from each other in a relationship. They got some serious issues and desperately need to talk about it but are doing anything but that. I'm a little confused about the otsee your loher couples(?) dynamic, are they dating? Just roommates? They're acting like they're more than roommates at times but I guess we'll find out. I assume that all that is something we'll find out so I'm intrigued by this show, even if I worry a little that they'll get into "cheating" territory at some point which is not my cup of tea.

🇹🇭 Sangmin Dinneaw

Episode 3 of 8 || Watching on: iQiYi

Sangnim and Dinneaw are super cute and I love all the languange stuff and I'm also interested so see where the second couple goes. But other than that I kept thinking all episode: "What even is this show? " The Pony thing still isn't my kind of humor but I'm assuming someone is finding it funny. The third couple however, what even is the point of them? We don't know them at all so I'm not invested in them or their relationship and I don't even know what those sex scenes are? Like they're neither funny nor sexy, why are they there? This is the one time where I'll allow NC scenes to be called unnecessary. I'm just so confused so if anyone has any insights please let me know!! Maybe it's just not my thing? I don't ever remember watching a show where I really liked parts of if but then absolutely didn't like other parts.

🇨🇳 I'll Turn Back This Time

Episode 1 of 6 || Watching on: Gagaoolala

I really like Meet You at the Blossom so I'm very curious to see if this can live up to the hype. They pretty much speed ran "enemies to lovers to something more" so I'm worried that this will come back to bite them in the ass later. Either way I'm intrigued and I'll wait and see the show unfold more before I make more of a judgement on this show.

🇹🇼 Eternal Butler

Episode 5 of 12 || Watching on: Gagaoolala

I'm watching this incredibly casually because I'm not big on robots in romantic relationships and, like it's predecessor, Anti Reset, you shouldn't think too hard about the plot.

That's it for this week!

For links and airing schedule check out World of BL (Only for BLs)

[starbunii]

Sorry if this is against the rules, but can I get HCs of Kokichi, Sonia, Tenko, Hiyoko, and Mikan with a fem!S/O who has Huntington's Disease? It's totally cool if not!! Totally understand this is a squick kind of topic!! If not all those characters, then Just Kokichi and Sonia is fine, but again, no pressure!! <3

ooo i would love to write this one!! ty for requesting it, i've never gotten sm characters in 1 req before! i'll organize them alphabetically :3c

danganronpa characters x fem!reader with huntington's disease !!

im sorry if i didnt portray it properly! i researched to the best of my ability!

+ ° . ୨ ♡ ୧ . °

╰╮🩰🧁〣 ♡ 〢🥛

hiyoko saionji

when you first meet, she kind of just makes fun of you, not quite understanding that you can't control the twitching and moving

hiyoko, being hiyoko, will make fun of you at first (bc of course she would)

however, once you explain everything, she'll make an effort to understand!

if you forget something, she'll politely remind you (if she remembers)

might tease you if you forget something important, but nothing too mean

rlly tries being patient, which is hard. but she loves you so much that she tries anyway

kokichi ouma

he rlly doesn't question it too much when you first meet

he's met a lot of different types of characters, being the leader of D.I.C.E and all, so someone with Huntington's? not a big deal

might tease you from time to time, but nothing too mean

he knows you can't always control the way you move, so he tries not to dwell on it too much

keeps an eye on you while you're eating, given that having trouble swallowing can be a symptom

if anyone looks at you weird, he'll fight them! or at least try to

mikan tsumiki

like kokichi, she doesn't seem to mind or be too bothered by it

she's a nurse; she's seen a lot of things and is well aware of what Huntington's is

the occasional jerk or twitch might startle her if she's not expecting it; but overall, she doesn't mind too much

very wary if your hands are twitching, just because of her past traumas

however, if it's your face that twitches more, she doesn't care too much

if it's getting frustrating or too uncomfortable, she'll gladly comfort you!!

doesn't mind if you forget things; bc she does too

if you have a wheelchair, she'll push you around wherever you want to go, even if she's not that strong

startled at first; but after asking a few (million) questions, she'll understand

since she's been sheltered most of her life, she doesn't understand a lot of outside experiences, but she is more than willing to learn

will ask you how you cope with it all, and will assist the best she can!!

she'll happily drive you to physical therapy in her expensive sportscar, making sure you're happy and comfortable the whole way there

you are spoiled like a little princess <33

tenko chabashira

immediately sees you as someone she needs to take great care of

a girl? with an incurable disease that causes her to twitch and forget things? yeah, she's all over you, helping out the best she can

writes things down for you, even if it's something you know you can probably remember yourself

sometimes she just needs a strong "no, im ok" or a "no, i can do this myself" to remember that you've got everything

will 100% carry you if you get tired, or just don't want to walk!!

tries to do her best to support you physically

knows insomnia is a symptom, and will take naps with you just to make sure you go to sleep

she's ready to wake up when you do <3

starbunii 2024 — all rights reserved. do not redistribute or translate to any other platforms -- thank you for reading !

[hoodedjelly]

Pardon the double ask, I’d also love to hear your thoughts on some Inanimate Insanity questions if you wouldn’t mind!

Thoughts on the Shimmers? [I personally find them super fascinating but there’s so little lore to chew on!]

The MePad tragedy… Do you think they could fix him, seeing as they have two very capable people who already built a whole person?? [You can probably guess my thoughts on this XD]

Favourite charcter(s)/character dynamics? I myself have a soft spot for the begrudging-turned-close friendships we see, like with Nickel and Balloon, MePhone and Floory, and Lightbulb and Paintbrush!

I'll do this ask first cause i wanna spice things up and talk about ii now.

Thoughts on the Shimmers? If i'm being honest i don't have any strong feelings about them. when i was watching ii i did get spoiled on bots new look and the whole time i was just like "oh they must come from that egg!" and then the egg became an egg creature from an egg species. So i was just like "OK I GUESS WE DOING CIRCLES NOW????". I was hoping for a really cool looking alien design, but i accepted that they are just eggs. I'm crossing my fingers for the next season to talk about their lore more, and just other alien species maybe since now it is confirmed there are more then just cobs and ii. How did cobs know about the shimmer? was he a fucking space war criminal??? there must be more objects out there that's not made by mephone. it honestly makes me really excited!!! i know they're not going to go straight onto the lore stuff for season 4, but i'm just so excited on who would even be the HOST next season, is there even gonna be a host???? SO MANY QUESTIONS AND IM EATING THEM UP!!!

Thoughts on MePads Death: mepads death was very much a shock for me, i'm in the ballpark where there's no way they're just going to leave him dead, cobs is dead, they can raid his place for parts. there's test tube that can save him. like there's so many variables that CAN save him it just makes sense that he would come back. But they can also be fucked up and evil, keep on going on the theme with "death is forever now" and that starts with mepad. I fear mepad is just another one of those burning questions i can't wait to see get answered on season 4

Favorite character(s)/character dynamics: OH JOY HOW I LOVE THESE CHARACTERS! i do love the bright lights group a lot, fan, test tube, paint brush and lightbulb. Have a soft spot for the final 2, suitcase and knife, but i think that's just because I've been around them the most the whole season. LOVE bot, floor, mepad and mephone4. I'm also very smitten on mephone3gs, i love his whole "space adventuring super hero from the 50s" voice, it's the right amount of cheese for me and i eat it up. My favorite dynamics are just the same fav characters i listed. fan and test tube are just two autistic nerds in love. paint brush and light bulb is a dynamic i constantly eat up "the hot head and they happy one". when i saw them i knew ii got me and there was no escape from my predictable self. i do actually like knife and pickle a lot! mephone4 and 3gs is a dynamic i can't wait to see in the next season. mephone got a new older brother thats a badass space adventuring super hero LIKE COME ON THATS SO CUTE. the last scene with them hugging literally makes me tear up every time. I can only just imagine, depressed mephone just like eating his life away on the couch and sg3 is just trying to help him with his space captain attitude.

anyway here's this little doodle of my fav group that i forgot to post

[waywardmillennial]

I'm really curious to see the reaction of the 'we want lower production content just like this' to puppet history season 7 which is the most high quality thing watcher produces and that show would really suffer if they put less into it. anyway not to start dishose again but thank you for pointing that out, reading the yt comments of 'we want production just like this' when Ryan is like 'yeah hauing all that equipment was insanely tiring and it made me stressed out and more scared' is like. oh so you really just want an imagined version of what you saw. anyway sorry to rant in your inbox i just am glad to see someone else point it out lol. (no need to answer if you don't want to btw)

NONNIE! <3 thank you for reading my tags and leaving this message!

honestly I'd already considered making a post about this a couple times because when I read through the comments for GFA on yt nothing makes me wish more that the platform had a 'block user' feature -_- I wish some people a very poor internet connection

it feels like so many people don't UNDERSTAND what Ryan was trying to do with GFA. he wasn't trying to return to his bfu roots (though he said making it more vlog style was something he had in mind, but he was also constrained by what he could film alone)

GFA was a personal challenge to himself after he's been trying to get a handle on his mental health for the past few years. Ryan wanted to go completely on his own to see if removing the crew would change anything and if he was mentally capable of doing all of it on his own, and that meant running camera and sound and everything else alone too

I won't spoil the debrief in case you didn't see it nonnie, but Ryan was really insistent that he do this show 100% on his own. I can't imagine knowing the physical and mental toll this took on him and then telling him "make all your shows like this"

and yeah, it makes me wonder on the general public's media comprehension because I know overall PH is their most popular series, and one of their most expensive and high quality too. maybe there's not much overlap of the two audiences?? idk I think it's also possible that people see PH as just Shane making some sock puppets and waving his hands around a cardboard theater - but it hasn't ever been that and the closest we had was s1 if anything (I'll stop myself going off on a PH crew tangent here, but there is SO MUCH that goes into making this show as good as it is)

I keep thinking back to the December Pod Watcher episode where they talked about how they're not going to focus on making "tv-caliber content" going forward (timestamp included but I'm paraphrasing Steven here, so watch that ep if you haven't) and that makes me sad because I've always liked and appreciated Watcher for making high quality content - for having well thought out series with nice sets, great camera work, phenomenal editing, and always making sure to give credit to the people who worked on their shows

Ryan worked as a grip for a while in Hollywood and probably had dreams of going further in the film industry but wound up going a different route working on bfu. I have to assume that starting Watcher must have felt like the opportunity to make a whole production company, to be able to emulate styles and storytelling of some of his favorite filmmakers. as someone who enjoys supporting independent creative endeavors like this (and had similar aspirations of my own) I guess I can see what Watcher wanted to be from the outset, and I wouldn't feel comfortable commenting publicly on any of their work what I think they "should" be making or trying to control their artistic vision

[kiwi-luminaryofthestars]

03/14/2025 Progress Update:

TLDR: A little over 1K more drafted today, we're at a bit over 17K. Draft is very close to complete. ETA for draft is this weekend, hopefully editing done by next weekend. Then however long it takes to beta!

Got into my writing mode as soon as I got home (made a whole fire in my fire pit and everything) AAAND got super distracted because I forgot about the open house tomorrow. So, had to clean, fold laundry, do dishes, tuck away tarantula enclosures, etc. Then read Believe's awesome fic (GO READ PLS) and about to proofread watermelpm's Kokichi character analysis (that is ALSO cool and you should read when she posts, will link when she does).

All just to say I think more than 1K drafted today is an accomplishment for all I had going on lmao. And we are extremely extremely close to ch 5 being completely drafted. I'd say probably less than 1K words away (DO NOT HOLD ME TO THAT, YOU KNOW ME AND MY FUCKING YAPS).

Most happy news of this is I finally feel like I got my head around the second section, which was killing me. Shuichi was just not clicking for me and I think I tweaked his motivations/thought process enough to get it where I need it. I'm still iffy on the conclusion of the section and will likely ask beta if it's adequate or if another idea I had to end it is better (SO EXCITING having a beta for this thing btw, though I'm gonna have such a hard time not spoiling for them).

Otherwise, it's just wrapping up the third section and we gucci to start editing. Which I don't anticipate taking me TERRIBLY long because I already have tweaked so much of this draft that I've sorta edited a bit already lmao (I try not to let myself do that but we broke the rules a bit this time).

In other uhhhh baby writing news, I sorta wrote 1K of a one-shot idea between last night and this morning lmao. My friend is the only one privileged to know about said project rn (because they gave me the idea when I was talking their ear off about Kiwi lore lmao) and it will probably stay that way for a while, 'cause idk when I'll finish it (I gotta at least get ch 5 and 6 out, then f&f chapter 2 probably; I'm gonna have to make a list of projects on my tumblr or something now lmao). BUT BUT it's an idea that I'm literally in love with, like I can't explain to you how much I like it. Mostly because it's another self-indulgent one and using my own niche knowledge in random ass shit. Write what you know!

JESUS LONG UPDATE SORRY!! I gotta be up in 5 hours... So I should probably fucking actually proofread this analysis and go the hell to bed. Hope you all have a lovely weekend! I'm gonna write hella these last two days of spring break, I'm excited!!

[empressofmankind]

On My Silent Days

I Miss You A Little Louder

[Crocodile x female!OC]

Explicit with a capital E

Word count: 7k / 15 pages

A/N: Writing this has been my whole life the past 5 days, as anyone who has frequented my Dash recently can attest. I am obsessed with their chemistry.

Technically, this is part of 'The Show Must Go On'. You don't have to read it, but I recommend it. You'll get to know Shivs and her helter-skelter relationship with Buggy which sits as the background to this whole ordeal.

You see, this is like, Arabaste arch at the earliest - Cross Guild era more likely. By then, Shivs and Bugs have rollercoastered through so much bullshit and they've come out rock solid on the other side somehow. Clown keeps failing up, even with this relationship. Sir Crocodile finds the whole thing insulting, to say the least. And seems to think it is one well-placed remark away from utterly crumbling. Jealous ex, whomst? My dude, you fucked that up yourself. Repeatedly. You had more chances than you have fingers. Chemistry aside, this is absolutely a desert of his own making.

What else do you need to know? Shivs is only 2 or 3 years younger than Buggy (i.e. my age, come sue me), but Crocodile is 5 years older than the clown. So, she's in her mid 30s, he's in his mid 40s. She originally met him when he was maybe 28? Do the math. Oh yes, and for those less familiar with the Cross Guild era: our favourite clown has managed to accidentally become the lauded public face of what is actually Mihawk and Crocodile's venture. Understandably, the ex-warlords are a little miffed by this and spend decent amounts of time physically abusing poor Buggy.

Shivs' absolutely flawless plan is basically swapping sexual favours with her ex for get-out-of-jail-free cards for the clown.

My girl literally barging in here telling Croc: "I'll take ur cock if u leave my clown alone."

Yes. That's it. That's the plot.

She almost had him, too. Arguably, she had him the entire time. And then he gdamn snapped her from the pond edge like an unwitting gazelle in the last minute. Cuz we all - her included - forgot who we're dealing with for 14.5 pages straight. APPARENTLY.

screams into a pillow

Tag(s): Oh? Ok. Sexual favours! Is she fucking her boss? No, but he always makes it feel that way. Is she fucking her ex? Yes. Are they technically still married? Maybe. Blow jobs? Deep throat. Size kink? 100%. Filthy language. Graphic sex. Soft dom? Power bottom? I am on the fence. Little girl vibes on the margins, like, he tries. She too sassy and sooner a brat. Oh, orgasm denial! Big time. Humiliation? A little bit. Stretching? Yes. Moar size kink. Choking? Big yes. Spoiling? Also yes. She deserves nice things. Power imbalance? Yes. In whose direction? It kind of flip-flops. Did I need to spend so many words on their smoking and his cigars? Probably not, but it scratched an itch. With them, it counts as foreplay; I am sure. You know you're doing well when he takes the damn thing outta his mouth. World class banter, too. If I may say so myself. But really, the bottom line is that it's just oral and PIV dressed up real fancy.

ON MY SILENT DAYS 

I MISS YOU A LITTLE LOUDER

The double doors were as tall and foreboding as Shivs remembered. All bevelled hardwood and delicate gilding. She stood before them, gazing up. In the dead centre sat a brass knocker shaped like a bananawani's head, polished to a sheen. 

Knocking was for people with appointments, and waiting wasn't something she planned on doing here ever again. She put her palms against the cold, expensive wood and pushed the massive doors open as if breaking a siege. They swung on smooth hinges despite their weight and struck the marbled walls with resounding booms.

The opulent office beyond was exactly as she remembered. Marquina walls, fishbone parquet floors, blackwood furniture. The taxidermied juvenile bananawani set in the wall vitrine behind his desk was new. What had been there before? A map? A ship? No, a stone. An artefact of some kind riddled in curious glyphs.

Crocodile glanced up from his papers and the irritation flitting across his scarred face in the split second before he realised who'd dared barge in, set the hairs on the back of her neck on end. How often had she seen someone shrivel into a desiccated husk straight after that look?

Shivs held his pale gaze, set her jaw and strode into his office as if down the plank. 

The creak of leather as he leaned back in his seat. “You know I've killed people for less.”

She paused in front of his outrageous statement piece of a desk. She put her hands in the pockets of her baggy pants and forced her shoulders to unclench, her stance to relax. If Buggy’s dumb luck had managed to rub off on her in these past months, then now would be the time for it to start working for her.

“Lucky I am not ‘people’,” she said as she crossed her fingers in her pocket. 

Amusement squinted his eyes as the corner of his mouth twitched up behind his cigar. “No, you're not,” he said as he rose.

Shivs was not short. Not by any regular definition of the word. Buggy was only a head taller than her. She hadn't forgotten how tall Crocodile was, not really. And yet, as he came around his desk and towards her, there appeared to be no end to him as he approached. If she reached up, stretched her arm, she could nick his cigar. But only just.

"Do you still smoke?" he said as he stopped well within her personal space, forcing her to crane her neck to meet his gaze. He took a flat, brass case from the inside pocket of his coat and held it out to her. She remembered it. Remembered the exquisite taste of the narrow cigarillos in it.

"No."

"Liar." His gaze flicked down along his cigar at her. "You smell of cigarettes, doll."

"I have changed my ways."

Humour flitted under his gravelly voice. "For the worse." 

Shivs pursed her lips. "It's an expensive lifestyle when they don't come free with a goodnight kiss."

"Hah." 

The bark of laughter actually reached his eyes, crinkling their crow's feet for a moment. He held out the case to her again. "You poor thing. I do support charities, you know."

She took it this time and flipped it open. The rich waft of tobacco and sweet Goji berries greeted her as if no time had passed at all. Might as well enjoy her sojourn back to hell while she could.

She put one of the thin cigarillos between her lips and let him light it. Watched the firelight catch and reflect in his rings. Took a moment to savour the blend, rich and sweet as polished Beli.

They were very good.

Always had been.

Shivs took the cigarillo from between her lips and blew the smoke up in rings through a slow smile. They almost reached him.

Crocodile leaned down through the cloudy hoops to pluck the shoulder of her red-and-white striped sweater between thumb and index finger, a judgemental 'hmph' escaping around his cigar.

She enjoyed the expensive smoke and his fascination while it lasted. Maybe, just maybe, this would be enough? Letting him treat her like a doll badly in need of a better dress up? He liked to spoil, always had. Now, more than ever, he had the means to take it to completely nonsensical levels. Her ego could take it, if that was the price of leaving Bugs alone.

Shivs indicated his everything with an up and down wave of her free hand. "No way to afford the good stuff on a waiter's salary."

He let go of the fabric to brush his thumb across the smear of grease paint near the collar, staining his skin and the gold of his ring red.

"Or a dud's haul." 

He hooked the silk kerchief from his vest's breast pocket and wiped his hand. She followed the length of his arm up to his face.

"The entertainment isn't half bad."

“Yes.” He chewed the butt of his cigar, derision twitching his thin lips as he tucked the kerchief into an inside pocket of his coat. “His pathetic antics can be mildly amusing.”

Shivs’ grip on the cigarillo tightened, but she smiled pleasantly. “I like it when a man can make me laugh,” she said, pointing at him with the thin smoke between her fingers. “Even if at his own expense.”

She frowned at his broad back when he turned away from her without a witty reply, retreating to the button tufted camelback near them.

“You're not here for a social call,” Crocodile stated as he sat down, putting his arms along the sofa's curved back. Something flitted past his pale eyes, but it was gone so fast Shivs couldn't nail it. “What do you want, doll?” 

Shivs rolled back and forth on the balls of her feet, pursing her lips as if preparing to drive a hard bargain. She intended to seem casual, unconcerned. But her palms were slick with sweat and her heartbeat drummed in her ears. She filled her mouth with smoke, tasting the rich flavours. Savouring them before blowing it out in small puffs through her pursed lips.

"I want you to leave him be," she said, extinguishing the cigarillo in his ashtray.

Crocodile shifted and put his shin across his knee. Her gaze flicked down and she saw him take note. 

"And if I do?"

She held his gaze. One breath, two breaths, moved her jaw but didn't form the words. She wanted him to leave Buggy alone. Even if that meant taking his… beating, instead.

He blew out smoke through his nose, waiting patiently for her answer. The hint of a smile lingered as his pale eyes held hers from above the waterline of his scar. And in that moment, he reminded her so strongly of a lurking crocodile. Watching. Waiting. Biding its time to strike. It sent a shiver down her spine, and not entirely out of fear.

Shivs pursed her lips, steeled her emotions, checked her resolve. I'll do it for you, Bugs. It's a deal I know he won't refuse.

She met his intense gaze head on, then dropped hers slowly to his crotch once more. Allowed it to linger there, before looking back up.

He chewed the butt of his cigar and beckoned her. "You never could fit all of me down that skilled throat of yours." 

Shivs watched him uncross his legs as she approached. She trailed her fingertips along his clothed thighs before leaning on them. It brought her face level with his and she deliberately took a moment to breathe in his secondhand smoke. 

“Want to judge if that hasn't changed for the worse?” she whispered against his lips as she savoured the distinct flavours that made up his private blend. 

Strong muscles flexed and relaxed under her palms, and she presumed that to mean ‘yes’. 

She ran her hands down his muscular thighs, taking in their shape until her palms rested on his knees. His breathing changed, she could tell from the way he exhaled smoke. Denser palls, deeper breaths. No resistance as she pushed his knees apart far enough to kneel between them.

Brushing her fingertips across his overstated belt buckle, she smiled to herself. Some things never changed. She slipped the tooled tip through the frame, her movements slow and deliberate as she listened for the subtle shifts in his breathing. She loosened the prong with a sharp tug on the strap, using more force than was strictly necessary. An undercurrent of need laced the grunt that escaped him in response. 

Shivs reached into his pants with both hands, catching his gaze as she drew his penis out, feeling it swell against her palms. She made a noise of appreciation as she let her hands slide down his shaft. His pale eyes hunting after hers when she broke their gaze to look at her fingers fitting around the base. She had not forgotten how tall this part of him was.

Leaning forward, she trailed teasing kisses from halfway down his shaft towards the tip. I’ve swallowed swords longer than this, and dicks aren’t even sharp, she thought as she flicked her tongue past the rim, playful-like. Length was only half the problem though, she knew that perfectly well.

She put a hand on his thigh and leaned on it as she ran the flat of her tongue across the head and took him into her mouth, suckling the tip. Inched his cock further with deliberately slow, short bobs, tilting her head to ensure he’d catch every movement of her lips as they worked around him. Need strained his stoic expression when she stole a glance up. A twitch of his eyebrows when the tip bumped against the back of her mouth. She sucked down and drew his cock back out, watched it twitch and his grip tighten on the backrest as she felt his thigh flex under her palm.

She took him into her mouth again and ran the tip of her tongue along the underside of his cock. Relaxed her neck and let it slip further than before, teasing at the entrance to her throat. Nudging it, stretching it just a bit before sucking down and drawing him back out, tasting precum for her efforts.

The frustrated groan that rumbled up from somewhere deep within his broad chest sent sparks flying down her spine. This is gonna work, she thought as he reached for her head, petted her hair while she teased the precum from him with fleet, wet kisses.

“Stop messing around and swallow my cock, sweetheart,” Crocodile grunted, pale eyes alight with hunger. The petting stopped, fingers tangling into the hair at the back of her neck instead. It was like the twitch on the line that told a fisherman to react.

Shivs glanced up along his hard shaft, and reeled him in: 

“Yes, Sir.”

The horny groan that drew from him, before she’d even begun to take him again, settled comfortably in her bones. Gotcha, she thought.

Shivs breathed slow, deep, steady breaths as she slid his cock along her tongue, lining him up. The head pushed past the entrance of her throat and she switched to shallow breaths through her nose. The grunts and huffs that escaped him every time she swallowed were inhuman and she needed more of it.

She slid his cock further down, felt his thighs tremble as she did. The closer she got, the more his musk pervaded every stifled breath she managed around his thick cock. It was a heavy, heady scent and she shifted her position to press her thighs together. He didn’t notice.

She stroked his legs, ran her hands up to his hips as she leaned closer, and took him deeper still. His fingers were fisted painfully tight into her hair, but his large hand followed her without force or resistance, resting heavily against the back of her neck.

Almost. 

Almost there.

And then the tip of her nose bumped against his flat stomach. She could hardly smirk with his dick this far down her throat but counted on the crinkle of her eyes to work for her as she caught his gaze and slowly raised her hands, palms up. She didn’t care that they trembled. 

Look. No hands, motherfucker.

Crocodile grinned down at her through a huff of smoke, cigar dangling between his teeth. She thought it looked a little worse for wear.

“The pathetic clown doesn’t know what a dirty little slut you are, does he?” Crocodile said, his gravelly voice thick with lust as he petted the back of her neck. “Giving such sweet head to save his sorry hide.” He ran his fingers along her throat as if trying to feel how far down his cock had gone. “I always knew you could do it, sweetheart.”

“Now,” he added as he huffed out a pall of smoke and she felt cool metal sliding around the back of her neck, barring a retreat. “I need my cock-hungry doll to make me feel good.”

Shivs dropped her hands to his hips, gripping the folds of hard muscle there for support. She slid her tongue between her bottom lip and the underside of his cock, making sloppy little noises with the slightest bob of her head. Even those small movements pressed the round curve of his hook into the back of her neck, sending a shiver down her spine that made her squeeze her thighs together. She didn’t bother to try and hide it.

His large hand joined his hook, strong fingers digging into the back of her head, twisting into the hair there and holding her put as his thick cock twitched so far down her throat she didn’t even know anymore where precisely she felt it. She worked her throat around him, drawing rumbling moans from him that pitched.

“Ah -nngh- you feel so good, doll. So. Damn perfect.” His thighs tensed under her arms, flexing his hips with short jerks. She closed her eyes as she swallowed around him, frowning with effort. His breathy grunts as he lightly fucked her throat made her pussy throb.

Suddenly, his grip tightened like a vice and he shoved her nose-first against his hard, trembling stomach muscles, stealing her breath. Her eyes flew open as her throat strained and cramped, swallowing around him in reflex.

 “Fuck, honey. Ah---! Yes, yes.” The satisfied, drawn-out moan as Crocodile spilled his hot cum down her throat reverberated through the quiet office. 

Her fingers dug around his hips, tears jumping into her eyes as she gagged, feeling cum come up around his cock as stars danced into her vision. His grip weakened as he rode out his orgasm and she pulled back before he was quite done pumping cum. Shivs swallowed it mindlessly while coming up for air. His dick slid wetly out of her throat and mouth, streaks of cum connecting them before they broke.

She glanced up from his softening cock, glistening with her saliva all the way to the hilt. He’d tilted his head back, held his cigar nowhere near his mouth as he came down from his orgasm with deep, steadying breaths that expanded his wide chest and flared his nostrils.

He straightened with a lazy groan and a roll of his broad shoulders. 

Shivs met his gaze, panting.

“You’re still my pretty little thing, aren’t you?” Crocodile said, his gravelly voice breathy as he reached for her, stroking her cheek with his thumb. The gold of his ring was smooth where his fingertip felt rough, the warm touch grounding her fried senses. It lingered at her eyepatch, lightly brushing the faded leather. “The things we let people do to our faces…”

He hooked the kerchief from his pocket and dabbed her mouth. She reached for his hand with both of hers, touching the back of it, taking the cloth. She watched him watch her as she cleaned her face.

“Don’t you have a new pretty thing? Miss Face-of-the-Casino in her cute kimono?” Shivs forced her tone to be casual, edged with light mockery, maybe. It was stupid that it’d stung when she’d seen the younger woman. An irrational, petty feeling. An old pain. And, none of her business, at any rate.

The dismissive look that flitted past his pale eyes was rather unexpected. “An investment, nothing more.”

“She’s pretty,” Shivs said. Perhaps, part of the sting had been the fact that Miss Pretty had not responded to her the way women did when they were into other women.

Crocodile looked at his cigar before putting it back in his mouth. “That she is.”

Their gazes crossed and she pursed her lips. He reached for her jaw, fingertips grazing its curve. Then leaned down and pressed a peck against her frown. She sat up and chased after him as he took another draw from his cigar, stole the aromatic smoke from him as she teased her tongue into his mouth. He blew it out through his nose, taking the cigar from his mouth as he caught the back of her neck with his hook and took control of the kiss.

“You can have one if you like, sweetheart,” he said when they broke apart, indicating his cigar. 

And lord, if she wasn't tempted.

“You share ‘em these days?”

His derisive ‘hmph’ made her smirk as she rose to her feet. 

“What about Miss Pretty? She enjoy your… cigars?” Shivs said, and noticed she’d gotten his cum all over Buggy’s sweater. Shit.

Crocodile glanced at her, pale eyes searching. “I prefer making deals with those who have something of value to offer, doll.”

Shivs put her hands in her pockets and rocked up on the balls of her feet with a mildly overacted grin. “Oh, it’s a deal then? You’ll play nice?”

“My compliance doesn’t come that cheap,” he said through a huff of smoke.

She crooked an eyebrow, risking a hint of ridicule in her tone. “Cheap? And here I was, thinking I have a unique skill up for offer.”

He actually cracked a smile as he flicked the butt of his cigar into the general direction of his desk and ashtray. Then beckoned her with hook and hand. 

“Come here, doll.”

It would have been too easy.

She sauntered back to him and linked her fingers with his, curling the others around his hook, letting him draw her into his lap, straddling his thighs. He shifted so his cock was between them, pressing against her clothed cunt.

“What else will it cost me?” she said as she rested her hands on his shoulders, lightly riding against him. Every rub along his dick pulsed pleasure up her spine, and she hadn’t failed to notice it was already stiffening again.

He stoked the tip of his hook along her cheek as his large hand took in the shape of her firm butt, guiding her movement. “I want to know if your tight pussy can take all of me now, too.”

“Here, on a couch?” she said as she slipped her fingertips under his coat and pushed it off his shoulders. She trailed her hands down the revers of his vest, grabbed hold of them as she dry humped against him. “I thought you said you weren’t cheap?”

The bark of laughter that drew from him shouldn’t make her smile the way it did.

He pressed a kiss against it. 

“I wouldn’t dare, honey,” Crocodile said as he gathered her up in his arms and rose smoothly from the couch, leaving his coat behind. He strode across his study and through the adjacent library to the expansive bedroom beyond. She remembered the sweeping view from its curving window wall and the sea of nightlights twinkling far below.

Instead of depositing her on his spacious bed, he set her down on the plush rug beside it. And motioned up and down her clothes with a dismissive gesture. “Take those rags off.”

Not my rags, Shivs thought as she kicked her boots aside, removed her baggy pants and grabbed the edge of the sweater. She didn’t wear a bra. She didn’t like them, and she hadn’t bothered wearing one this evening either.

Fingertips traced the lacy sides of her underwear while she had the sweater pulled over her head.

“You still have those.”

He sounded…not surprised. Curious, maybe?

“No reason to get rid of perfectly fine underwear,” she said as she freed herself from the sweater, finding he’d already undressed.

“They can stay on,” he said as she folded the sweater, her hand lingering on it before she turned to him.

“For now?”

A smile twitched the corner of his lips. 

“Here, doll.” He held something out to her, cream-coloured and neatly folded. It seemed small and delicate in his large hand.

When she took it, the fabric cascaded into a surprisingly classy, mid-thigh negligee of shimmering silk. The top was constructed from intricately detailed lace with tiny bananawani worked into the pattern.

“Pretty,” she said as she brushed a finger across the delicate lace. She put it on and it fit her so neatly it felt like a second skin. An outrageously luxurious second skin for the silk felt soft as sin and the lace light as air. She turned a full circle on her tiptoe, overacting it just a little. She knew he liked that.

“Looks good on you.” He reached for her head, combing his fingers through her tangled red hair, tucking stray bangs behind the strip of her eyepatch. “I’d never let you get so grimy.”

“Can’t be a dirty little slut if you wash me.”

“Hah.” Crocodile leaned down and scooped her up into his arms, just like that. “Come here before I shove my cock down your throat again to shut you up.”

“Don’t tempt me- ah!”

Her reply cut off when he suddenly let go, dropping her into his bed. And that was quite the distance, even if the landing was soft. He immediately climbed on top of her, caging her with his much larger body. She spread her legs, accommodating his wider hips as he reached for her breast. His thumb traced circles around her nipple through the fine lace, stiffening at his touch.

“Like what you see?”

“Always have, doll,” he rumbled against her collarbone. Though no longer smoking, she could still smell it on him. Would be able to pick it out of a crowd. Subtle tones that reminded her of burnt coffee, dry glass and cinnamon, mingling with the faint wax smell of his hair gel and heavier citric notes of his cologne.

A small gasp escaped her when he brushed the lace down and kissed her hard nipple, taking it into his mouth and licking the sensitive tip. She felt the curve of his hook press against her hip, hitching up the silk as his hand slipped between her thighs. Strong, confident fingers pressed against the fabric of her panties and outer labia underneath. It ignited old desires, flickering life into fires she’d thought snuffed out.

His rough fingers traced the delicate lace, undulating with its curling, stylised waves. Her breath caught when they found the edge along the crease of her thigh. A mewl on her lips as he dipped them under the smooth fabric, fingertips grazing the warm, sensitive skin of her outer labia and sending sparkles of anticipation up her spine. The delicate fabric stretched with an alarming whimper from the seams as strong digits brushed between her folds, not quite able to reach. He grunted against her breast at the soaked pussy he found there.

She felt him slip the hook under the edge, warm from resting against her hip. The thought of him pulling her panties down with it lit up every nerve in the vague vicinity of her hips. Her eyes snapped open at the sharp jerk, the sudden cry of fabric tearing at the seam between silk and lace. 

Shivs made a noise, nose wrinkling. Those were the nicest-.

“I’ll get you new ones,” Crocodile promised against the curve of her breast, his gaze down as he hooked the fabric from her hips. The hunger in his pale eyes as he looked at her pussy made her spread her legs further. He leaned down to caress her labia and press a light kiss against them that made her throb, thinking about his tongue.

A breathy huff escaped Shivs when he slid his middle finger between her folds instead, running slow circles around her inner labia. Gathering the moisture there before teasing them apart and brushing across her clenching entrance. Pleasure sizzled up her spine when he pressed it inside, mapping her inner walls and finding all the right places far too easily. If he kept this up, she was going to come very soon.

He switched to her other breast, teasing the sensitive skin as he inserted a second finger. “I seem to remember you liked getting your little hole stretched,” he rumbled against her nipple, and spread his large fingers apart. She moaned at the strength in them, the ease with which they pried her open. It sent twinges of sweet, sweet pressure blazing through the haze of need fogging her thoughts.

She reached down to his hand, stroke the back of it. Found his thumb and guided it against her clit with a needy moan. Her thighs trembled as he massaged it firmly, pushed his fingers all the way in, then spread them as he pulled out. She felt his knuckles and the hard edges of his rings press into her labia when he pushed them back in but she didn’t mind, kind of liked it. She reached a hand for his shoulder, neck, grabbing hold of the tout muscle there as she arched her back towards him. His pace was torturously slow and she was loving it.

Shivs let out a drawn out whine when he stopped, pulled at his neck, wrist, knowing perfectly well neither will give an inch but trying, anyway. She tried to clench her thighs, rub them together, nurse the need smouldering in her veins, but his knees were between hers and she writhed in vain.

Crocodile shifted unto his elbow, bunching the silk further up her hips while taking his hard dick in hand. A hoarse whisper close to her ear as he guided the head against her slick pussy: “Won’t you beg for my cock, sweetheart?”

“I need to feel your cock in me,” Shivs said as she caught his hungry gaze. “Feel it fill me, stretch me.”

He grunted with barely contained need, she could see it in the straining of his back as she reached for his thick neck, folding her hands behind it. Felt it in the way his hips twitched as he pressed his shaft through her wet folds, coating it with her juices.

“Am I not a good girl, sir?”

“Yes, you are.”

Shivs moaned loudly when he entered her. Whined at the delicious pressure as he pushed deeper into her soaking wet pussy, stretching her around him. She clung to his neck, mewling with incoherent need. Her hand went to his hair, messing it up but not caring. Neither did he.

“Ah -ngh- fuck,” Crocodile grunted, his breath hot against her neck.

Shivs held onto him for dear life as she arched against his hard body, savoured the sharp pleasure of him stretching her cramping, soaking cunt wide enough to plough through. He’d not bottomed out yet. If she could take him, she’d have him wrapped around her finger.

“You’re. Fuck. As tight. As I remember. Sweetheart,” Crocodile groaned into her neck, his gravelly voice strained to the point of being near unintelligible. It was getting tougher and tougher to push further through her tight, contracting walls.

“Almost there,” Shivs whispered as she brushed a stray bang of dark hair from his eyes.

The noise he made in response was inhuman and she drank it in as she closed her eyes, spread her legs further to accommodate his hips and relaxed every muscle she could still feel. A whimper bubbled from her lips when he pushed up against something deep within her that twitched a pleasure so sharp up her spine it sat right next to pain. 

“Fuck, yes,” he ground out as his hips pressed flush against hers, his breath hot, heavy pants buffeting against the crook of her neck. “Feels. So good.”

He managed to push himself up onto his elbow, satisfaction animating his whole face as he looked at their joined hips, her soft labia squashed against his pubes. Shivs whimpered, his movement nudging tight bursts of pleasure deep within her. 

“I knew you could do it, doll.” His tone was thick with lust, laboured from his heavy breathing. He gently brushed a strand of sweat-slick red hair from her forehead with his hook, looking so proud. “You like getting your little cunt stuffed, don’t you?"

Shivs gave a sharp nod, struggling to form words.

“I know you do, honey,” he whispered as he rolled his hips against hers, not truly thrusting. She reached for his face with trembling hands, stroking his hard jaw. He grunted under his breath with each push and she pressed pecks against the puffs of hot breath until he responded. Until he chased her tongue back into her own mouth and pressed her head back into the pillow with the desperate force of his kiss, demanding entrance with his tongue that she was more than willing to give. 

“That's all you g-got?” she whispered through a moan and a bated breath when they broke their kiss for want of air. “I b-barely feel it.”

“Ah? You want more, doll?” Crocodile pulled out with a grunt, just a fraction, before shoving himself back inside her to the hilt, making her mewl with pleasure through clenched teeth as his cock bottomed out and up against her cervix. “Shall I take you back to my study? Pound you bend over my desk, like I used to?”

Shivs whined into his mouth as she latched onto him again, arms tightening around his thick neck as her cunt squeezed around his cock from the pleasure coiling around her spine. If he took her from behind, he could probably push deeper still. Oh, she’d be in trouble.

“Who’s cheap now, hrm?” A breathy hum into her ear as the obscene slap of his hips against hers filled his bedroom. She whined in need, the heady mix of mind numbing pleasure laced with an edge of pain making her tremble against him. “Do you want to be my little whore again? My pretty fuck slut to sit on my cock whenever and wherever I want?”

All she could do was whine and roll her hips to meet his steady thrusts. Fingers digging into the taut muscles across his shoulders, keeping him close as he fucked her deeper than she’d ever felt a man, even him. She whimpered, the heady mix of mind numbing pleasure laced with an edge of pain all but overwhelming her. Especially when he thrust just right, shoving his cock against a sensitive spot so deep inside her she didn’t even know she had it.

“I missed my. Pretty cocksleeve,” Crocodile grunted into her ear. “The. Only. Little slut that can take me -hng- properly.”

“Fuck me harder,” Shivs whispered, hands massaging his broad shoulders. He groaned with effort, she could feel the bridled strength in the muscles working under her palms. His pace picked up, and so did the strain in his body. Every thrust stretched her so deliciously, stimulating every needy nerve inside of her. 

“Do it,” she moaned wantonly as his thrusts started to push her up on the bed, her weight no match against his strength. “I c-can take it.”

“Ah - hng- you’re. Going to. Make me cum, doll,” he growled through clenched teeth. He grabbed her shoulder, holding her in place as he jerked his thrusts up against her. Her mind was unravelling. The only thing she could think about was his cock filling her, burning up every single nerve she had as needy pleasure coiled in her belly. She wanted him to cum. She really did.

When he paused, she struggled to comprehend why. Her gaze found his. Sweat beaded on his forehead, his mouth slack to accommodate the deep breaths heaving his chest. He was barely holding still, strain thrumming through every inch of his large frame above her.

“Does. My pretty little thing want. Cum as deep in her tight pussy. As her pretty throat?”

She whined, pulled at his neck with both hands. “Y-yes.”

“Beg. For it.”

“P-please,” she whimpered as she tried to make him move, weakly rolled her hips towards him. 

“Please what?”

“Please, s-sir.”

The noise he uttered in response to that settled somewhere at the primal base of her brain. She wanted, no, needed, to hear it again.

“Please, sir. Pound my needy hole like I deserve,” she mewled into his ear, savouring the way his breath hitched, that noise came again. 

“Damnit, doll,” Crocodile grunted through clenched teeth as he picked up a pace that became quickly rougher, slightly erratic. He locked his hold on her shoulder, broad fingers digging around her thin muscles and narrow bones, keeping her put as he pounded into her soaking, cramping cunt. “Gonna fuck you so full, you'll be leaking my cum well into tomorrow.”

“Please, please, pleaaasse,” she whined and clenched around him as he fucked her into the sinfully soft matrass with long, deep strokes that shoved his cock shamelessly up against her cervix to fit it all in. She wanted, needed, to cum around it, desperate for release. “Fuck me full of cum, sir. Stuff my tight cunny like you did my slutty mouth.”

“I -ngh- will, honey. I am,” he ground out, barely intelligible as his pace lost all semblance of rhythm and he bucked against her in the grip of his orgasm’s first throes.

“Oh! Yes, yes,” she moaned as he shoved his throbbing cock as far as she could take it, cumming against the deepest corner of her cunt as she shuddered around his cock with unfulfilled need. He stayed buried inside her as he came down, breath erratic before steadying, slowing. She whimpered in need, clenching around his softening cock. She hadn’t been able to cum around it like she wanted. It was too thick to cramp enough for a proper orgasm. She knew that, but had thought maybe this time…

He knew it, too. Remembered it.

“You’re still my pretty little thing, aren’t you?” he said as he caressed her cheek, ran his thumb across her parted lips. “Unable to cum around a cock like a big girl.”

She made a small noise that he swallowed in a kiss.

They stayed that way until her breathing steadied as well. Then he sat up and gathered her into his lap. She held onto him, her cheek against his collarbone. Not quite ready yet to let go.

“You look parched, doll,” Crocodile said as he brushed a bang from her eyes.

Shivs peered up at him. “I would not say ‘no’ to a sweet white.”

A noise escaped him that could have been a fond one as he lifted her off his lap and rose. The sound of his retreating footsteps filled the quiet. He’d gone to his study, judging by the distance. Shivs got up as well and shimmied the negligee down. Despite everything, she did not feel like taking it off. It felt nice against her flushed skin.

She sauntered to the curved window wall and found the view precisely as she remembered it. A sea of nightlights twinkled across the city below, mirroring the deep blue, star-speckled sky above. The moon hung low, waning from view. It wasn’t long before he returned. She heard him uncork a bottle behind her and fill two glasses. The snap and swoosh of his lighter. The familiar scent of his cigar preceding him as he came to stand beside her, still naked.

He held a glass out to her, a cigarillo clamped against its curve. The wine was a deep bronze instead of the pale yellow usual to white wines. She accepted the glass and smoke, gaze lingering on the narrow slot through its delicate stem. It allowed him to hold them with his hook without slipping. She glanced sideways and up at him. A fond smile twitched her lips when she noticed his hair was neater than before. He’d evidently taken a comb to it for a hot second.

Shivs put the cigarillo in her mouth and turned to find his lighter lying on the nightstand beside the wine bottle, and a corkscrew with its split cork still attached. She glanced at the label as she lit the cigarillo. It read ‘1811’ in large, proud capitals, and a name in a curving script she couldn’t be bothered to try and decipher. She would not be able to afford it, anyway.

Taking a sip, she returned to his side. The wine was sweet, indeed. With hints of lime, honey, saffron. She made herself comfortable against him, her bum resting on his thigh. “It’s a nice view,” she said as she blew out a thin pall of smoke.

He glanced down at her and their gazes crossed as he idly stroked her hip. “It is.”

Shivs leaned into his touch, sipping the wine. It really was, very good.

“Clever scheme you’ve gotten up to, in order to save the loser’s sorry hide,” Crocodile remarked as he blew a smoke ring against the narrow cloud she’d just produced. “But it has a flaw.”

Shivs let her weight shift from his thigh to his loin, only the soft silk between them. “You sure?”

A self-satisfied smile twitched behind his cigar as he gave her hip a squeeze. “None of this will work on Dracule.”

Only because I don’t have a penis, she thought, but no matter. They may have both grown older, but Croki was still fundamentally the same man she’d left years ago. And that would work for her, she was sure of it. Inevitably, Mihawk would pick on Bugs. She would take it upon herself to get irritatingly upset about it. Mihawk would no doubt insult her next, and Sir Self-Satisified here would take it personally by-proxy and shut him up. It’d be a win.

“I’ll think of something,” Shivs said as she blew a thin pall through his smoke ring, dispersing it.

He glanced at her, amused. “He’s partial to good wine, at least.”

“I’ll take it under advisement.”

She nipped her own wine, idly rubbing her thighs together. Pleasure skulked around the base of her spine, denied but not forgotten. She made a little noise against her glass when she felt his hand move up her thigh, his thumb brush under the edge of the negligee.

“Still needy?” he said as he bunched up the fine silk, rubbing his middle and ring finger against her clit in slow circles. It sent lazy sparks of pleasure straight to her brain. Drawing a shuddering whimper from her as he dipped his middle finger between her folds.

“Cum for me, honey,” Crocodile rumbled as he lightly ran the tip of his finger along the inner rim of her vagina, then teased the sensitive spot further down. Shivs gasped through her moan as the briefest shudder of an orgasm stole over her like a thief in the night. It was not enough, not nearly enough.

“N-need more,” she said as she put the glass down with a wobble. Reached for his large hand when he stopped, withdrew, tugging it back. Bunching two of his fingers together, of a mind to stick them into herself if he didn't.

“Come to our board meeting tomorrow. You’ll come sit with me and I’ll take good care of your needy little hole.” He shook her fussy touch and caught her pubes, massaging his palm firmly against her soft cunt, pressing her bum against his cock. “You can ride my palm like you used to, and I’ll make you cum on my fingers till your tight pussy is sore from cramping around them.”

Shivs wasn’t particularly keen on doing any of this semi-publically, least of all anywhere Bugs would be. Though she feared she wouldn’t be able to talk herself out of this, as easily as she’d talked herself into it.

“Don’t worry, doll. I’ll leave the pathetic clown alone,” Crocodile promised as he stroked her flat belly with the rounding of his hook. “Can’t beat the loser if my hand is occupied with something sweeter, hm?”

Shit. She had to tell Bugs. Forewarned, forearmed, and all that. She turned in his hold, his hand moving to her butt instead. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then,” she said, but he caught her wrist when she took a step back.

“Ah, ah,” he admonished as he stopped her, pulled her with him, back into bed. “You’re staying with me tonight.”

“I, what? Why?” 

Suddenly, she wanted to leave as he gathered her against him, nestling her into his lap and chest, spooning his large body around her like a cage. She wanted to leave, wanted to go to Buggy and cry when he guided his cock back inside her still moist pussy with an incriminating noise and a satisfied rumble. She’d meant to turn this trick and tell Buggy about it. Tell him her plan to manipulate the ex-warlord to leave him alone, to leave them alone. Tell him it had worked. 

Shivs pushed herself on her elbow but Crocodile pulled her back down to him.

“Stay,” he said as he hooked the fluffy underblanket and silk cover sheets about them, his arm around her waist, hand on her hip.

“Why.” She had to tell Buggy, but now she couldn’t. She’d left after they’d gone to bed. She hadn’t told him yet. He didn’t know. He’d wake up alone.

Crocodile stroked the midline of her belly with the tip of his hook, rippling the cream-coloured silk as it moved up her chest, counting to the fifth rib. The one behind which her heart sat.

“Wouldn’t want to spoil the surprise.”

A quiet sob escaped her.

"Ssh, sleep, honey," Crocodile whispered into her hair, fingertips stroking her hip. “I’ll take good care of you tomorrow.”

~

Honourary mention tags: @smut-goblin , @ruledbyproblematique , @gingernut1314 , @swirlsofblackandwhite

(N/A): To anyone reading & making it to the end. Writing this has consumed me the past days. I want to know what you think! What did you like? What made you laugh? Was there something specific you noticed? Something you now wonder about? I am 100% open to lengthy comments and blow by blows, ngl. I am obsessed with this.

If you want for more, I jotted down some of my own thoughts regarding this debacle. I may also be plotting another stint. Because Impel Down, do you understand me??

[nor-4]

For the first time.

I wanna cry so bad tumblr didn't post the part two this just because my net is slow n now i have to restart over again. I'm so disappointed, this will probably the bad version of pt 2. :(

Pairings - Mike Schmidt ft Mean!Reader.

After learning about the whole animatronics thing it weirded you out but yet you are curious, after seeing how they act it made you think that maybe they are just a child.

You headed home from the pizzeria, you just knew that you had a strong bond with abby. Everything that came out of you when it comes to abby is just normal.

As you were about to go to sleep you decided to snoop around the old box of your belongings when you were a kid, you found a crayons and a empty drawing book.

You love to draw when you were a kid so your mom used to spoil you with them, you wanted to give this to abby. Never in your life have you ever really cared for a child.

A whole 12 hours had just passed and it's your shift again, you were walking to work until vanessa saw you and gave you a ride since she is about to go to that old pizzeria anyways.

"Hi vanessa, hi (y/n)." Abby greeted as she started running on where the animatronics are, "Mike.." Vanessa said as you turned at her hearing her tone gives you heart attack you just knew that she is mad. "So you knew about the animatronics?" Mike asked as both of them started talking about the animatronics as you continued sweeping the place.

Suddenly abby asked for help and started making a plan about doing a really big fort for her and her friends, "Maybe we can use the table as a fort.." Vanessa said as an idea for the fort.

They started working on it same goes the animatronics helping as you are still cleaning after the fort was finished abby started calling you so she can lay down beside you.

Vanessa excused herself to go get a cloth because it's about to rain and we need a "roof" mike followed her to the stock room as i sighed staring at the ceiling.

Being left out like this makes you heart ache, you always hated this kind of feeling especially when you were a child.

"okay everyone. Now pick your partner for the project." Your teacher joyfully said as you were at the corner of the room watching your classmate scattered around looking for their partner, disclosing their hate with each other if needed just so they won't be partners with you.

You bite your lower lip thinking someone will ask you if you wanted to be their partner, but sadly you were placed on the room where students are on an odd number.

"Hey (y/n) you don't have a partner. Do you want to have a group project with the others." your teacher asking you if you want to push yourself over people who doesn't even want to be close to you, "No ma'am I'll just work by myself." You politely said through the loneliness you are feeling.

You hang your head low playing with your fingers holding back your tears as you feel their eyes burning into you as if you did something unforgivable.

"Hey (y/n) are you okay?" Abby asked concernly as she sat up to look at you, "I'm fine abby don't worry about it." you reassured abby with a smile.

"How about we go for a dance?" Abby asked as she stood up same goes the animatronics as the bear type of robot started singing as abby is dancing while holding your hands.

Abby stood up to the stage as you told her to be careful as you were distracted by hearing vanessa and mike fighting over something that you don't want to know. It's your first time again hearing someone fight so seeing it makes you feel like you wanna cry.

You grew up with an alcoholic father and a workaholic mother, they often yell to each other, destroying things and almost killing each other.

Everything happened so fast you heard vanessa yelling something as you felt something hot hit your face almost hitting your eyes, you ran on where abby was as you saw her laying down on the ground.

"Abbyy.." you said as you lightly shake her hands as a cough escaped her mouth from the smoke, "What happened?" abby asked as she stood up as you scoop her for a hug reassuring her that everything is an accident.

You guys packed up your things because vanessa had said that mike and abby needs to go home and get abby some rest. You are on the car with abby as she hugged you from your tears on hearing them yell outside, she doesn't understand what is happening at the moment as she just comforted you based on how you feel.

You wiped your tears as you feel mike had entered the car, "She looks angry.. Why does everyone look at you that way?" Abby asked on sight after seeing vanessa angry, you wanted to dissappear on sight but mike insisted that you shouldn't be out walking this late.

Drive home is quiet since abby had already fallen asleep and you are still a bit awkward around mike, you carried abby to her room as soon us you guys got home cause abby was clinging into you.

You set her down to her bed she looked at you as if she wanted to ask something but just let it go, "Goodnight (y/n)." abby said as she closed her eyes from her tiredness. "Goodnight abby.." you whispered as she was already asleep.

You are about to left the house since your home is just near here might as well just walk it, until you were stopped by mike who is sitting outside looking at the sky as if something miracle is about to happen.

"i didn't hear anything from you earlier.. Everything all right?" mike asked as you sat down beside him and was taken a back by his question, you never thought you'd have this kind of conversation with him it feels so cozy, comforting and peaceful.

"I'm gonna be honest with you.. I feel left out earlier." You said as you were playing with your fingers again, "I know, i wanted to help you but i couldn't.. It's vanessa." mike sighed as he stopped in the middle of the conversation.

He started talking about his brother and everything they went through he feels like vanessa is stopping him from finding out everything, he describes his trauma to you as if he had met you for a very very long time.

"And you know.. I really liked you, i thought i was just going crazy until i started thinking about you the most random times.." Mike said as he looked at you as you look at the moon as it lights up your beauty, "I liked you too mike, you are a very nice man. I thought i was just bored and then i started feeling something as if I'm jealous." You stated as you looked back at him.

He wanted to cherish this moment with you, if he had a three wishes from a genie he would wish two times to comeback to this moment and the third wish is he wanted to live every years he had with you.

"Since you had confirmed that i have a chance with you. (Y/n) will you go out with me, i know i won't be a perfect man for you but i will do my best. I promise i will never disappoint you (y/n) just plea-" You cut off mikes speech mid way with a kiss as you hold both of his hands. "stop it you dummy, yes i will go out with you." You said as you smiled at him while he looked like he is about to cry.

"(Y/n) i really love you. I will earn your reciprocation of my love." Mike said as he kissed both of your knuckles as you giggled on how loser he is being, "I know you will mike.." You laughed as he admire you gosh he is about to melt.

"Can you please stay just this once?" Mike pleaded as he wanted to cuddled you up and make everything up to you since you confesses that you feel left out earlier, "Yes mike.." You stood up as you brushed your pants.

"And it won't be once mikey." You told him as you pressed his nose with your point finger as both of you giggled like a high school lovers.

Mike guided you to his room as he pulled out a shirt and pajamas for you since he doesn't want you to sleep on a work shirt, unexpectedly you stripped infront of him as he closed his eyes as if he doesn't have any permission to see you.

"Mike stop being a coward, we are together now." you remarked as you put on the pajamas as you helped him get his vest off so he can change his shirt, he was still shy so he changed pretty fast which made you giggled.

You lay down on the right side as mike was on the other side, he cuddled up to you it's not like those tensed up cuddle this one is the comfortable one. Both of you have been longing for this a very long time ago plus both of you are tired so the sleep is very cozy for mike. Pretty much he sleeped through the night without taking a sleeping pill.

[foreveralwaysanauthor]

So, after spending a few weeks recovering from a mild-ish concussion and some whiplash from the waffle maker hitting me in the head, one of my coworkers brought strep throat to school with them and I caught a mild strain of it. I recovered the week before my birthday, thankfully. Two days after my birthday, however, I got sick from one of my relatives, and I'm almost entirely back to feeling normal again. My drive to write is pretty high now, which is nice after suffering the worst bout of writer's block I've ever had.

Also, I got the chance to read the new Sunrise on the Reaping book while I was down for the count, and I just feel like screaming and crying and throwing myself down the rabbit hole of yet another Hunger Games AU.

Not happening... yet.

However, I do know when, who, and what it would cover when I choose to do so, which is great. If you care to join me in the rabbit hole at least a little bit, I'll put a bit of what I've got for it so far down below, but for now, here's a not-so-short update on my current stories.

Same Trailer, Different Park:

I am currently on page 29 of the next part of STDP. I've been working on it off and on, but seem to have found a sticking point, so that's an issue I'll get around to once my drive to write the next segment of The End Is Near has come and gone. I will say, though, that there are quite a few things I'm excited about in this chapter. I won't say too much because then I'd spoil the whole thing, but some keywords will be entertaining for you to try to deep dive on, I suppose.

Populer... lar.

Osborne.

Mercedes.

That last one is one that I've been working on for quite some time and probably will only make sense if you go way back in my posts to—I don't know—July 22, 2022. There is one thing that hints at it—only one. 😉

The End Is Near:

I keep going back to this one because of how the last season ended, but I'm only on page 22. I will say, I have a lot planned because, from the second chapter onward, I go almost completely off the rails from the original source material because I have different characters and plot points than the show. The first chapter followed pretty closely, but from here on, there are only occasional mentions of events from the show because my characters and their families are vastly different from the ones in the show. However, I'll give you a brief character comparison and maybe a blurb or two.

Riven = Maddie. The main character who somehow ends up in the afterlife with no recollection of their death. They're trying to remember how they died, but all they get are small flashbacks of the day they reportedly went missing.

Kona = Charley. Both nineties kids who are very sweet and kind to those they care about, but aren't afraid to speak their mind. Their deaths are different - Charley died of anaphylaxis and Kona of drowning. Kona died in December of 1994 at only 14.

Juliet = Wally. Our fabulous 80s babes! Wally died during a football game and Juliet died from a falling stage light, but both give off the same jock-ish vibes with their neon Spandex (Juliet) and letterman jacket (Wally). They both were known at the time to be a bit mean to others for their reputation's sake, but Juliet was more a Heather MacNamara than a Heather Chandler, if you get what I mean. Juliet died in March of 1989 at 18.

Makana = Rhonda. Rhonda is much more on the dark academia side of the sixties than Mick is. Though Mick loves her music and poetry, she is less dark than Rhonda is, though her humor can, at times, be on the darker side. Rhonda was strangled by her guidance counselor in Spring of 1963, whereas Mick was strangled by her boyfriend in January of 1968. Both were killed for the same reason - leaving their hometown to attend college. Mick had been accepted to Berklee College of Music in Boston.

Ethan = Dawn. Dawn and Ethan are from 1972 and 1973, respectively. Everyone assumes Ethan died because of drugs because of the decade (like they did to Dawn in the show), but his actual cause of death was something innocent. He was at the school, helping his band set up for a fundraising concert over the summer. Someone came through while he was setting up speakers and knocked his drink over, spilling it onto a plug without him knowing. The speaker started glitching and the volume started spazzing out, so he tried to change the frequency, only to electrocute himself. He doesn't care what the others say about his death as he knows the truth about what happened and doesn't like blaming his death on others. He just enjoys the fact that he has an endless supply of blunts in the afterlife.

Butchy = Janet. Butchy died on April 14, 1956. Fell down a flight of stairs and broke his neck. They're not totally similar, but close. I will say, though, Butchy definitely had a thing going on between himself and Mick. That's all you get for now.

Mr. Fletcher = Mr. Martin. Mr. Fletcher died on May 4, 1956, in an explosion in the automotive wing of the vocational building. Only one character of mine fits this role, and it'll be fun to explore.

-----

Blurb 1 - The Teacher's Lounge:

Feeling a foot nudge his thigh, Riven twisted onto his back to find Makana sitting on the back of the couch with a book in her hand, watching as teachers filled the room. “Wake up, Tootsie Roll. This is the best time of the day.”

Groaning as he stretched, sat up, and looked around at the teachers, Riven asked, “What’s happening?”

Dog-earing her book - an action Vivien would’ve had her head for - Makana said, “This is the lounge - the one place in this hell-hole where these underpaid sad sacks let their guards down and say whatever they want about whoever they want. We get to hear the drama, the gossip, who they think is dating or cheating, and most importantly, who in this room is boning who.”

Riven made a face of clear disgust as Makana bounced off of the couch and he muttered, “Gross. Why on earth would I want to know that? They’re all in their forties or close to it. That would be like asking my dad.”

“It’s like a soap opera, actually. It’s sort of entertaining,” Makana said. As she sauntered over to Vivien’s dad and leaned close, she muttered, “Kona thinks I’m insane, but there’s no way this guy is half as nice as he seems outside of school hours.”

“He is,” Riven argued quickly. “That’s my second dad. He’s a genuinely nice man.”

Glancing between Riven and one of the female teachers, Makana said, “Some of the other teachers thought he was banging Ms. Dodds two years ago. If he’s cheating on your dad-”

Riven quickly shook his head, then winced at the way the movement made his head spin. “Not like that,” he said. “He’s my best friend’s dad. He’s not dating my dad, he’s just… he’s like another dad to me.”

“Oh, boo,” Makana sighed, almost sounding disappointed by the lack of drama in Riven’s statement. Turning back to Mr. O’Brian, she said, “Anyway, there’s no way he didn’t get a hair transplant or something. His forehead was three inches higher last year.”

Sending the brunette a look, Riven asked, “You measured his forehead?”

Makana chortled, “Hun, I followed him to the lavatory, that’s not all I’ve measured.”

“I can’t believe you’d actually do that,” Riven muttered, shuddering at the thought.

Stepping away from the teacher, Makana shrugged, “Not the worst thing I’ve seen or done in my afterlife. Besides, Ms. Dodds said he was packing, and she wasn’t wrong.” Making her way past Riven, she glanced down at him and smirked, “Don’t be discouraged, though. You’re not so bad yourself.”

Instinctively covering his lap with a pillow as Makana headed toward the coffee machine, Riven tried to pretend his face wasn’t flushed with embarrassment as Makana grabbed a cinnamon roll from the counter and began eating it, perching herself on the edge of the counter and listening to the teachers chatter. Were the other ghosts so… snoopy? He sure hoped not. One was bad enough.

-----

Blurb 2 - Movie Night:

Grabbing a handful of what little popcorn remained in the bowl and tossing it at his twin, Oliver groaned, “Boo!”

Tossing a few kernels back at her brother, Abby scoffed, “I’ll castrate you in your sleep.”

“I don’t even know what that means,” Oliver retorted, tossing a mini peanut butter cup at Abby.

“Good,” Abby smirked, reeling back a handful of gummy sharks.

“Woah, woah, woah!” Vivien laughed, stopping the food fight as she latched onto her siblings’ wrists. “First of all, you guys are going to make my bed look like the floor of the Pizzaplex movie theater after a new Marvel movie release. Second, don’t throw the gummy sharks; that’s animal abuse.”

Oliver, the human vacuum, began picking up pieces of popcorn from the bed and tossing them into his mouth as he muttered, “Sorry.”

Watching her brother pick up shreds of popcorn, Abby sat back against the headboard beside Vivien, toying with the gummy sharks in her hand as she asked, “Is it still considered animal abuse if I’m hitting another animal?”

“Abs,” Vivien said with an amused yet still slightly reprimanding tone in her voice. “Be nice.”

“Look at him,” Abby said, gesturing to their brother as he shoveled the remaining popcorn into his mouth. “He’s practically a raccoon. Scouring for any morsel of food in every room.”

Letting out a soft snort, Vivien elbowed Abby and whispered, “Just be grateful he didn’t eat you in the womb.”

Choking on one of her snacks as she barked out a laugh, Abby covered her mouth with her hand and sent Vivien an accusatory look. Vivien merely smirked as Abby eventually grinned and said, “Maybe he’s like Kirby. He gains HP every time he eats something.”

Snagging one of the gummy sharks from Abby’s hand, Vivien took a bite of its tail and sighed, “At least I won’t have to worry about creepy crawlies in my bed. He never misses a crumb.”

Shrugging, Abby placed the rest of her gummies in the bag they came in, rolling it up tightly and setting it on the nightstand as Oliver put away the laptop and remarked, “I’ll have you know, I think being compared to Kirby is a compliment.”

“You would,” Abby teased as she pulled back the blankets and settled under the covers.

-----

Now, if you've hung around this long, I thank you for your dedication and interest! I got distracted by a bag of Doritos while writing this, so honestly, you're better than I am! As I mentioned at the start of this long-winded post, I have a bit of a Glory and Gore/Scattered Screams prequel idea.

In one of the two stories (I believe I was more detailed in Scattered Screams), I mention that Mack and Brady were victors and what their arenas had been like. I've decided to expand that to also include Lela and Butchy's stories. My original outline was pretty... simplistic. It was a basic, bullet-point note on my phone that had little to no hearty information. Revising this wasn't difficult, but figuring out their timeline further on was, for some reason.

Just a quick note before we jump in:

The 25th Hunger Games (the first quarter quell) was made so that those reaped were voted on by district members. There were (presumably) no volunteers allowed. President Snow said in Catching Fire, "On the twenty-fifth anniversary, as a reminder to the rebels that their children were dying because of their choice to initiate violence, every district was made to hold an election and vote on the tributes that who would represent it."

Anyway, by my calculations of their birthdays and ages, Brady and Mack would have been born the years of the 23rd and 24th Hunger Games, respectively. Brady was born the 30th of September, putting him at 12 almost 13 for his first reaping, and 18 nearly 19 for his last eligible year. Mack, however was born the 19th of March, making her in the same age bracket as Brady due to their birthdays.

Keeping true to the storyline of Mack being raised by her grandpa, Mack's mom, at 18, is reaped for the 25th Hunger Games. She begs for someone to volunteer because she needs to take care of her baby, but nobody does. She is still sent into the arena and ends up second overall, dying after an hours-long fight with the only other tribute remaining, a seventeen-year-old Career from 2.

Fifteen years later, Mack is a young programmer at a factory that makes programs that eventually become the tools the Gamemakers use to control the arena. Being younger than everyone else in her unit, she works alongside some of the people who grew up with her mother, something she takes great pride in. They tell her stories of her mother and how excited she was to be a mother.

When the reaping comes, Mack is relatively unbothered. She has very few slips in the bowl, nobody she cares enough for to volunteer, and has always followed the rules per her grandpa's instructions. However, as we all know, she is reaped. Despite her family's legacy, as her mother's death looms over her family's name, Mack is not volunteered for.

Two years later, one of the boys on her team of programmers, a guy she vaguely remembers from school - Brady - volunteers to take the place of his younger brother (I swear I wrote that he has siblings, but I can't remember their names anymore lmao). Although Brady seems to know more about Mack than she does about him, her way of mentoring him actually seems to work.

When he's thrust into the arena, she sends him reassurances alongside his sponsor gifts. Naturally, when he wins, she advocates for him to be left unchanged by the Capitol surgeons, and they gradually end up falling in love and having Mick.

Along the way, during their trips to deliver supplies to District 6, Mick meets a boy a year older than her who happens to be Butchy, her future husband.

Now, I do have a lot more to go with, especially with Butchy and Lela's games, but I won't go too off the rails right now as I kind of want to get back to writing STDP.

Butchy had volunteered to save Miles when Miles was fifteen and Butchy was sixteen. Mick, knowing this, freaked the fuck out and asked her parents to help protect him in the arena (a casino). Butchy doesn't know this, but the pair saved him at the cost of their own tribute.

Lela, on the other hand, won at 14. Like her brother, she volunteered for a friend. After scoring only a four, she went to the arena (an abandoned castle) and managed to hide out until she was one of the last two tributes. Given her appearance in my AUs, she clearly won.

So, yeah, I have a bit of a thing planned, and it will tie them all together in the end, but for now, this idea will remain on the back burner until I have some more of my current stories done. I'm stuck between this and a WandaVision/Agatha All Along AU for Halloween, but we'll see if either of those ends up happening.

Anyway, this has been a longwinded post and I hope you enjoyed this little sliver of me getting back into writing again after taking such an extended break!

[novelmonger]

1-6, 9, 12, 16-19, and 23 for the Rocky Road asks, please?

A book you regretted reading

The Color Purple by Alice Walker. Hated it, hated it, hated it. I honestly see no literary merit in it, and I probably shouldn't have finished it because of the kinds of invasive thoughts it was giving me, but it was for school, so I read the whole thing. I really should have asked the teacher if I could do a different book, but instead I just tried to get through it as quickly as possible. My biggest regret in regards to this book is that I asked my mom if I could burn it (she said no), instead of taking it and burning it on my own. I needed the catharsis.

2. A book you couldn’t finish

Most recently, They Both Die at the End by Adam Silvera. If I'd taken five seconds to look at the tags on Goodreads, I would have realized it wasn't going to be the book for me, but alas. Instead I got invested in the characters and read until I couldn't kid myself anymore about the budding romance I didn't want to read, at which point I put the book down.

3. A concept or plot that you thought was squandered in a story

The Dragon's Legacy by Deborah A. Wolf is...not a great book. I could wax eloquent about all the problems I have with her dumb matriarchal desert society, but the biggest shame in that huge waste of time was a really cool idea about these people who have a telepathic bond with big cats. It was a really cool idea, especially when (if I'm remembering right) usually it's only women who can bond with them, but one of the main characters is a boy who manages it. The whole story could have been about that, and it would probably have been much more interesting than the big nothing of a story I slogged through instead that was apparently just setting up the next book.

4. An underutilized setting or world

I am on what is probably a lifelong quest in search of a well-written fantasy based on some Middle Eastern culture. It has to be written well, avoid egregious stereotypes, and capture in some way that particular old-meets-new feeling, that warmth and vitality and history and darkness and light, of the Middle East. All of which is apparently hard to do, because I keep on running into stories written by Westerners who don't seem to have done much research beyond watching Disney's Aladdin. Or it's ruined by an explicit sex scene on like page 5, because that has happened with alarming frequency too :/

5. A character you want to rescue from the story they’re in

I think Kaladin Stormblessed would really benefit from taking a vacation from the Stormlight Archive and getting some intensive therapy :P

6. An author you want to rescue from the story they told

I want to rescue Jack London from The Call of the Wild, which is the one story he's known for. Let's have the world forget about that story for a while and pay attention to the far superior White Fang instead.

9. A character type, plot, or element that you normally don’t like but did like because of the execution

This is probably not what the question is getting at, but it's the one example that's coming to mind right now: The Wheel of Time. There were a lot of characters I couldn't stand as written by Robert Jordan. Like...almost the entire female cast, for one. But then in the last three books, when Brandon Sanderson took over...suddenly I liked them! I ended up crying at the death of one of the characters that annoyed me the most! And that was entirely down to Brandon Sanderson knowing how to write distinct characterization that makes sense and makes you care.

12. A book on hold that you do mean to finish

One day, I will finish The Idiot by Fydoor Dostoevsky. I will! Let's just...ignore how I've been working on it for like half my life at this point >_>

16. A book you hold a grudge against (read or unread)

Fifty Shades of Grey. 'Nuff said.

17. A book that you were spoiled for

I will forever resent Pinterest for spoiling the "Honor is dead, but I'll see what I can do" moment from Words of Radiance by Brandon Sanderson.

18. A book where you like the adaptation or an element therein better than the book itself

The Maze Runner movies are vastly superior to the books, surprisingly. The movies actually tell a coherent story, all the characters are more believable and proactive, and while there's still some eyebrow-raising things about the plot, it's much more satisfying and compelling. The books are weird, man.

19. A book you don’t really like but have kept for other reasons 

I don't really like any of the Ender's Game series other than the first book, but the series should stay together, and I want Ender's Game on my shelf, so the rest of the series is there too :/

23. A highly-hated or derided book you love

I don't know exactly how hated/derided the Jedi Apprentice books are, but just about the only thing I ever hear anyone talking about in relation to them is getting angry at Qui-Gon for leaving Obi-Wan on Melida/Daan during the arc where Obi-Wan leaves the Jedi. Sorry, everyone can die mad about it, because I love that series anyway. Both of their actions make sense in context, mistakes are acknowledged and apologized for and forgiven, and I'll always have a soft spot for those books.

Rocky Read Asks

[weird-color]

okay not that big of an ab toons fan (I've only seen the first season) since I'm more fixated on the movies BUTTT I've been stalking ur acc n I can't help myself

I DO agree with u on leonard being extremely generous and buying things for red to try and impress and woo him but as for how it started well I have my own headcanons. leonard most likely fell in love first some time like between the first and second movie cuz of that brief frame where he's LITERALLY wearing a onesie of his "enemy." cmon we know what u are

when he first makes a move it would definitely be some sort of big gesture like how the green pig balloons flew over bird island in the second movie (also note that the letter he wrote has XOXO) and red would just flat out reject him. after leonard gets down on one knee n looks up at red like he's about to propose, he doesn't even get a chance to let out a word before red gives a hard "NO." in typical tabm humor (he would of course still have some resentment)

after a while of begging n pleading n a LOT of trespassing with red to just "please give him a chance" n "I'll spoil you with anything" red finally just bursts n gives in on a few conditions. he's dirt poor n he can't afford some things (headcanon since he can't even keep a job n is apparently the only bird who's been fired the most times in bird history, according to ab comics: flight school) so he offers to go on a date with him begrudgingly IF only it would be somewhere private where no one he knows would see him n he gets some money afterwards since he knows leonards royalty, so why not use that to his advantage?

but eventually after a while of anxiously waiting the next day n wondering if leonard even remembered he's suddenly kidnapped n shipped back to piggy Island, he immediately recognizes what's happening n starts regretting his choice as he's brought to the kings palace. they had to tie him down to a chair just to stop his thrashing since he was kicking and clawing at everything, but he does get tired and calms down on his own but that doesn't mean he's happy about it.

hes then brought out to the balcony where leonard sits at a small round table just enough for the two of them and overlooks his kingdom in pride, before turning his head around and looking over at red with a genuine but mischievous smirk. leonard starts using his usual charm n tries to woo red again like before, but this time... it's almost working. maybe its just the romantic nature of it all? the orange sky fading into the dark night in the background, the candles blowing softly around them n almost threatening to put out, n so up-close n personal with someone like him. or maybe it's just his inexperience with affection? he's never had someone work so hard n put up with so much just for him. just for... red doesn't realize he's been quiet this whole time n has been glancing away at the balcony n occasionally back at leonard in awe n disbelief, to the point that leonard was basically talking to himself.

the atmosphere wasn't awkward at all though, somehow. leonard was almost a magician at making conversations feel incredibly natural, or maybe that just comes from being a king. he was talking n wearing himself out, probably not even sure that his advances might work, just for... just for red. n that's when it clicked, when red finally realized. leonard wasnt doing this just for beneficial reasons, he was doing this because he genuinely wanted to. he wouldn't possibly do all of this just for another attempt at stealing eggs, it'd be way too much work n he'd need to have at least some common sense to know that it wasnt even effective. but he was willing to do this just for red, even when the stakes of being rejected n all of his hard work going to waste was still high.

leonard suddenly paused and noticed reds intense stare at him, "...what're you looking at? something on my face?" he joked and chuckled, not at all bothered by him. "...I-I change my mind. We're a thing now." red declared suddenly with a flat but almost embarrassed expression, leonard almost choking on his champagne in surprise. he managed to drink it down n quickly calmed down, raising his eyebrows n smirking pridefully again. "Oh, how sweeeeettt... but couldn't you have waited until the fireworks?" leonard snickered n picked up a small detonater, nonchalantly pressing the button n the sky errupting with specifically red and green lights.

(SHIT SORRY DIDNT REALIZE THIS WAS SO LONG I BLACKED OUT AT 1 AM N HERE I AM NOW)

its alright anon you're safe with me