#does this count as a snippet

[save-the-villainous-cat]

“So what exactly is this…” The villain grabbed the hero’s wrist before they could touch the electronic gadget.

“If you want to, you can play with it outside. Not in here, please,” the villain said, their voice low, controlled. Their expression serious.

The hero rolled their eyes.

“Ugh, I’m not a dog that plays outside,” the hero hissed. They freed themselves from the villain’s grip rather harshly and stared at their nemesis who merely raised their brows.

“You’re not?”

“Ugh, you—”

“Then don’t touch my toys, love.”

“I should be confiscating your ‘toys.’ They’re a hazard for national security.”

“Are suspended heroes allowed to do that?” the villain mused. Their lazy smile spread all over their face and the hero clenched their jaw hard enough to make it hurt. Because, technically, the villain was right.

The hero had been suspended. For reckless behaviour. For now.

“Fuck off,” the hero whispered. They turned around to look at the other weapons and technical devices in the (what the villain called) weapon room. It was more the size of an entire apartment.

And quite impressive. They knew the villain was rich, but rich enough to possess technology not even the government knew of?

In their training, the hero had learnt quite a lot about weaponry, but this was beyond them. They barely recognised anything in here, let alone how to use this technology.

“Don’t you have like…a normal gun in here? Something I can actually use?” the hero asked. The villain took a small quadratic device from a table where hundreds of them were arranged properly.

“What makes you think I’d let you use any of this?”

“Ah, so you just want to show off.” The villain turned to look at the hero and merely shrugged.

“Perhaps.” The hero couldn’t even tell which was worse: being suspended or crawling to the villain, asking for help.

But the hero had no choice, this case was important and without the agency’s help, the villain was the only person they could turn to. So far, the villain played no part in this, so the hero could only hope they were interested in a neutral approach.

Together.

The hero’s jaw hurt.

“This is all we need for now,” the villain said. “It’s a tracking device. Location, voices, if it’s close enough to the person you’re trying to observe, it can even measure their heartbeat.”

They showed the hero the little device, not much bigger than a fingernail.

“Hm.” The hero scratched the back of their neck. The bugs from the agency were much bigger, much less capable. “And that’s gonna work?”

The villain simply laughed. “It’s adorable that you think it won’t.”

“I just…need this to work,” the hero said. The circumstances around this case were complicated, but the hero was willing to use every mean necessary to solve the murder of a colleague. It wasn’t easy, not even after an entire year.

Maybe that was the whole reason for why the agency had suspended them. Maybe they didn’t want them to work on the case at all.

“It will,” the villain said. “You don’t want to know how many times I slipped through your fingers thanks to one of these.”

“…delightful,” the hero said. They took a careful look at the villain. As always, dressed in fine clothes, as always serious, but still amused by pretty much anything. The hero always felt quite small next to them, even though they were sure they were older than them.

If the villain betrayed them, the hero was probably going to lose their shit.

They needed a Plan B, needed to be prepared for such an event.

“Don’t worry, love. This one is on me,” the villain said. They leaned over, their lips nearly touching the hero’s ear. “Unless you have a few million dollars on hand to pay for this.”

The hero blushed immediately and pushed the villain away.

“My god. You’re horrible.” They were regretting this already.

“Play nice. You know my kindness has its limits.”

Indeed. The villain wasn’t afraid of breaking the hero’s bones. Their forearm still hurt when they were lifting weights.

The hero sighed.

“You’re right.”

“Apologise then.”

“I’m sorry,” the hero said. Their ears were hot enough to hurt. They tried to look at everything except for the villain but that was nearly impossible. The villain’s pure presence demanded attention.

“No, properly. On your knees.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Quite serious, love,” the villain said. They smiled, more than a little amused. It wasn’t their soft smile and it wasn’t their evil smile either. They simply looked quite happy with themselves.

Despite their raging heart, the hero dropped to their knees. There was no negotiating with the villain. They knew that.

“Sorry.” Their voice was flat. Their face beet red. They bit the inside of their cheek. Thank god they were alone, they knew the villain liked to put on a show for an audience.

Which made this also quite intimate and embarrassed the hero even more.

They swallowed.

“Good enough for me. Get up.” The hero did so and once again, the villain leaned over, smiling. They put a hand on the hero’s shoulder and with the other, they gave them the little bug. “Not a dog, huh?”

[utilitycaster]

Talking as players outside the game is an incredibly important part of having good PC/PC D&D relationships, and obviously the characters involved in the relationship talking to each other in meaningful ways is crucial, but I think the importance of talking in-game in depth to other people is really underrated, in that it not only tells the other player what your character is feeling without having to reveal it in-game to them, but also serves to engage other characters in the story and deepen those platonic bonds to the point where they might even serve as confidants or wingmen. To give a bunch of examples and what they achieved:

Vax telling Gilmore he didn't want to string him along made it clear out of game that his feelings towards Keyleth were his priority, even though it happened where the other characters were not able to hear.

Similarly, Vex giving her blessing eventually after her initial resistance signaled to Liam that this would not be a major break between the twins.

Vax asking Vex what she intended to do about her feelings for Percy served not only as an opportunity for her to voice them to someone; it also serves as a big green light for Taliesin as Percy to kiss Vex later that episode (which he had already from Vex's resurrection ritual, but it underscores it).

Pike talking about Scanlan with Keyleth and Vex allows her to make it clear that she does ultimately like a lot of things about him despite sometimes being annoyed, and her talking to him through her earring while Scanlan is very much not there but Sam is at the table also serves as this kind of green light.

Jester asking Veth about kissing in relationship to Fjord lets Travis know where Jester is at and invests Veth in-game in the relationship.

Caleb asking Jester if she's "sweet on [Fjord]" lets her openly reassess her feelings after an intense arc and also indicates in-game that Caleb has noticed.

Beau waiting to hear the sound of thunder signals to Ashley (who was not at the table but who was presumably staying updated on events) that Beau has feelings for Yasha; it also allows those playing Yasha (often Matt for pure RP and Travis in combat) to return that flirting, since the baseline was already established.

Possibly the most obvious example, but Beau and Fjord's conversation on Rumblecusp not only clarifies to the whole table where everyone is (opening the door, for example, for the scenes in the beer garden a few episodes later of Caleb having Fjord and Jester dance together and Caduceus encouraging Yasha to pursue Beau) but very much serves as a green light to Ashley and Laura respectively. This is then mirrored by them talking after Beau has asked Yasha on a date and Fjord and Jester have kissed, and everyone involved can "debrief" with their partners not present in-game.

As mentioned, this is mostly about PC/PC relationships because PC/NPC is an inherently different dynamic mechanically though still should be a conversation, but Veth describing Yeza and Jester asking Caleb about his feelings about Essek both give Matt clues for playing these NPCs and how things might be received.

FRIDA mentioning their crush on FCG to Deanna means it's not a complete surprise to Sam, since it is a very sudden relationship, and lets him prepare and decide how FCG would feel in the moment, and also establishes how Deanna will feel about it.

Similarly in the C3 Uthodurn arc, Fearne going to Chetney about Deanna is an incredibly good move from Ashley (to the point that talking about this is what led me to write this whole post). It lets Travis play out where Chetney is. It lets Aabria therefore hear not only where Chetney is, but also know that Fearne is potentially interested. It establishes a ton of the dynamics for a relationship that out of game everyone knows will not have a full campaign to play out since one of the characters involved is a guest. And finally, it signals to Christian as FRIDA what the situation is in case Deanna confides in them.

[screams-in-writing]

Suit coat and starsss

A snippet below; I couldn’t help myself.

“Are you certain this outfit is truly necessary?” Mr. Puzzles asked. “Isn’t my usual attire fine for this ‘party’?”

“What do you mean? The get together is less than an hour!” You wondered, turning to face the man. “Does the clothing not fit or…or…” You trailed off into silence, question left unfinished, when you caught sight of the clothing in question. Your gaze focused, raking up and down, then more slowly. The white pants were a stark contrast to what Puzzles normally wore. It wasn’t lost on you that his hat, on on each boot (oh dear help they were knee highs) and one on the inside of the tail coat that showed when the man turned.

“It is too much, isn’t it?” Mr. Puzzles fidgeted with his bow tie, then brushed down his shorter warm grey-golden vest with gold buttons that paired with the hidden dress shirt and tailcoat. Upon no answer, he self-consciously adjusted the way the tail coat fit over his shoulders. Then, Puzzles’ hand went up to the top hat he’d either put over (or in place of) his usual bowler hat, as his metal antenna stuck through it. “Or is it this? It put the outfit together, but I feel like it is perhaps much too formal for this party, or ‘get together’, as you put it-”

“It’s perfect.” You managed to breathe out.

“Hm?” Mr. Puzzles caught on quickly; he placed a splayed hand to his chest beneath the bow tie as a sly grin appeared on his screen. His voice dropped lower, even if it was just to utter an ‘oh?’ of pure satisfaction. “My, my.” Mr. Puzzles added, as he sauntered over closer and leaned in close to roll a purr into his voice alongside your head. “Such flattery will get you everywhere, my dear.” A quieter whisper, a hint of static as Puzzles’ expression changed out of your view. “You look quite stunning yourself, I must say. What a pair we’ll make today!”

You needed a hole to open up beneath your feet right now.

Mr. Puzzles moved the side of his metal head to gently press to the side of yours.

Oh no.

He was going to be more insufferable and attention seeking tonight after that compliment.

“Why so worried?” Mr. Puzzles practically oozed confidence as he slipped an arm around yours to hook elbows as he slyly added. “Hearing you say such compliments…I do so enjoy receding them from you. But in the meantime, shall we go enjoy that party?”

“Yeah, let’s go.” You needed to get the upper hand again before Puzzles began trying to recite poetry at the get together for you in front of everyone in a showy way than when he was more genuine when it was just the two of you. Turning again, and patting his left arm around your right, you both urge Mr. Puzzles to lean down while you rose up on your toes to plant a kiss to the lower side of his metal head. A slight static crackle could be heard so near to his screen. A glance to the side allowed you a glimpse of what you thought were heart eyes and a heartbeat monitor flash across his face.

Mr. Puzzles faced coward for a moment before he craned his head down to press the lower half of his screen to your forehead. He let it linger there a moment, before Puzzles made a a dramatic kissing sound, and straightened. He looked inordinately pleased with himself as he observed your flushed face.

The joke was on him, however, as Mr. Puzzles’ face held a blush as his digital eyes focused on yours.

A beat of silence.

“You know, my dear, we could always skip the party.”

“If we don’t show up for at least a little while, Smg4 will think you kidnapped me again.”

“Rude! I only did that because Smg3’s bombs were about to go off right next to you!”

“And I appreciate the save, as disorienting as it was.”

“Hey, what’s going on here?” Mario made a sudden appearance. There was a great big smile partially hidden beneath that bushy mustache, the italian plumber’s smile spreading all the way to his eyes and crinkling the skin at the edges. “Mario’s thinking that he’s a interrupting something?”

It was funny to see how irate Mr. Puzzles became in Mario’s presence as Puzzles used his free arm to gather you to him. It was as if he thought the shorter man was going to whisk you away.

“Es-em-gee-four said you brought something for the party?” Mario prompted out of the blue.

“The scrupt!” Funny, how quickly Mr. Puzzles went full-on dramatic drama queen as he gasped loudly. “What a disaster!” Puzzles inhaled shortly as he let go of you entirely to place his hands to either side of his metal head. “I’ll be right back!” The man promptly retreated into his mind, leaving his metal head behind.

“The script is already with Smg4, isn’t it?” You snickered, addressing Mario, who was eying Puzzles head as of considering turning it on to some channel to watch. But when you spoke to him, blue eyes and the not-so-hidden smile spoke of mischief.

“Might have left that part out.” Mario admitted, before his smile softened and he teased you. “TV man really likes-a you, doesn’t he?” Then, before you can answer, he added. “You like him too.” A pause, then Mario gestured over to where Luigi and a few others were chatting as they walked along the path toward the showgrounds. “Want to see the castle decorations while TV Man runs around frantically-a looking for you?”

That you wanted to see.

You really shouldn’t, but who could resist spending time with Mario? The man was hilarious and so far was surprisingly aware of the fact that you couldn’t get up to anything too crazy in this world.

But for now?

You couldn’t help but snicker as you followed after Mario while he hummed a familiar tune; the two of you raced past Luigi and Saiko, looking like a pair misbehaving kids while taking a shortcut to the showgrounds.

Mr. Puzzles made a reappearance not too long after, static buzzing out of his speakers as he harrumphed over what happened and the fall that damned plumber had luring you off to do who knew what stupid shenanigans.

[spamsandsuch]

i cant stop giggling

[bloopuoo]

deja vu

indirectly inspired by the "happy chaos is bedman" theory (tho i am a non-believer myself lol). this is more about chaos knowing how much he resembles bedman and using this likeness against delilah just to trigger her :,,,)

[crimsongrimoire]

i may not know fuck or shit about hsr but whatever is wrong with boothill is fascinating. also horny robot thoughts

[anathemafiction]

I’m gonna say because I’m not a coward: I want Neia to hug my MC so badly🫢 hands cupping MC’s face, some out of character softness!

I’m only saying this because re-reading Neia bonus content on Patreon has me feeling a type of way this morning(not asking you to add anything! Your writing just has me soft and fluttery rn)

Everything about the moment is rough. The freezing wind whips at your clothes and makes your lips crack. The stones beneath your feet are so cold that tendrils seep up the soles of your boots to lay their kiss on your toes. The harsh sunlight pierces into your eyeballs, making the world stark and much too bright, but you don't close them, for between all the white, her yellow eyes are the only thing reminding you of heat.

And rough too, are her palms, as they close around your frigid cheeks. "Sweetling," Neia says, the word carried away by the wind. You can feel the scars on her hands, the callouses on her fingertips but, most of all, you can feel the pressure as she cups your face. "You alright?"

Her white hair flails around her face, mingling with the snow. And everything is so rough, but still, you find her arms soft when you fall into her embrace.

[schnaf]

23 days until jungsu's 23nd birthday

day 14 - 😉

[burning-academia-if]

Cute things to call the voice inside your head

Superrrr WIP and not featured: a 'something else' option so you can call them whatever you want

[unethicallypleistocene]

If you're still willing to take snippets... I'd love to read more about Blake!! He owns my X-Men heart fr <3 <3

Oh my gosh thank you so much! Sorry this was the bit late, I was having A Week when you sent this. Writing this really cheered me up today, I genuinely squealed when I finally got the time to write it!

Blake sat in front of the growing fire, wiggling his numb toes. He was feeling the afternoon lull, and the mansion sat suspiciously quiet as its inhabitants settled in to finish homework or curl up with a hot drink in the October chill. The wind gently jostled desiccated leaves from their trees, both parties bidding farewell as the sky grew a contented, cloudy gray. He found himself inside more often as the weather turned, preferring the constant dullness of his senses to the sharp emptiness that accompanied every journey through a dormant landscape. He shifted himself with great effort to pluck his guitar from the side of his chair, and felt the familiar divots of the uneven wood. Blake had little effect on organic material that was technically dead, but he had caught himself slightly warping the soundboard in sporadic times of extreme distress. He experimentally plucked the catgut strings, a small touch that Charles had picked up from a secondhand shop. Metal or nylon simply felt too foreign. He heaved himself out of his chair and ran a finger across the spines of the numerous hardcovers that lined the shelves of the study, all cloth-bound and varying fascinatingly in height and color. His hand was skirting across the spine of a Robert Burns collection when Kurt appeared directly in front of him. Blake knew he should be well-used to it by now, but he couldn't help but start and let out a small yelp.

"Blake! I was wondering where- ach! I hope I didn't disturb you." "No, no, I wasn't doing much, anyway." "Looking for more poems?" Kurt asked, noticing the small pile of books that Blake had accumulated on the coffee table from the past week. "Not like I'm starved for choice, I just... I'm feeling uninspired." "You could always try something in German," said Kurt, waggling his eyebrows. "I can live without your constructive criticism, Kurt," he replied lightly, recalling a past attempt to read untranslated Goethe out loud, to Kurt's immense amusement. "I tried to be nice," he giggled, "but now you know how it feels. The uh... mouth-feel can be hard." "But German is so- sharp. I had to hack around the syllables." Kurt rolled his eyes. "Ah, because English is so gentle." Blake absentmindedly strummed a G chord. "You're not wrong." At that, Kurt determinedly sat and crossed his legs on the carpet. "I'm never wrong. So, I think you must pick a poem at random and sing it for me." Blake sputtered. "You know it takes me hours to come up with the melodies!" "Come on, you need this! A challenge! Sing for me, bitte." Blake huffed, marching back to the bookshelf and yanking out The Iliad without looking. "Oh, you've got to be kidding me." Kurt's tail curled in merriment. "We'll be here for a while." Blake strummed a few harsh chords in reply.

[kyistell]

I'm going skating but I decided to whip this up before I left sooo ENJOY!!!

New Jersey-

Play Fights

Every region has their own thing that they do as a fun competition. The West Coast does comedy nights, where they see who can make the most people laugh. The South has what they call Hunt Offs, to see who’s the best hunter. And the Midwest likes to do cook offs, with the South being taste testers.

The North Coast has play fights, multiple rounds through the course of two days, normally held on a weekend. This includes Maine all the way at the top of the North Coast, all the way down to Florida, which allows for a larger roster.

It started as just a thing the New Netherland area did, over time it expanded to include the whole of the North East, then Delaware wanted Maryland to join and soon it spireled to the whole North Coast.

Of course it started out friendly enough, everyone tended to go a bit softer on Georgia since he isn’t nearly as rough as everyone else. Then North and South Carolina would make a bet when they fought, which had Pennsylvania open up a proper betting pool. The play fighting weekend always ended up with everyone sore to all hell and back, saying to themselves to never do this again and specifically never go up against New Jersey again.

Jersey was strong, while it didn’t visibly look like he could pretty easily lift 400 like it was 20, he could. However he often forgot just how strong he was compared to everyone else, it wasn’t like the rest of the states were weak but when compared to them, Jersey was like a powerhouse.

He isn’t too sure as to why he’s so strong, especially since he normally comes off as looking like a twig, however he did believe it was most likely something demon related. He knows his own demon, not father, father is no slouch in the strength department, and Jersey also knows that he could easily get his strength up more. 

It’s not like he wants to hurt the others, he really doesn’t, sure it’s a bit funny to have Northie pinned down after five seconds of fighting and sure it’s amazing to be better than Yorkie, but it doesn’t make up for the fact that he’s hurting friends, people who are basically his family.

Despite him being significantly stronger than the others, he never has actually won before. He always gets in his head when up against Yorkie, always ends up hurting him the worst, always dropping out after and just watches over the betting pools. 

It’s basically tradition at this point for Jersey to tend to everyone’s wounds after this, whether it’s early in the games or he and Yorkie were in the semi finals, it doesn’t matter. 

Jersey has a big heart, a big heart that can’t bear to see him hurt his family, so he’ll try to make up for it. Cooking for everyone involved, taking care of their wounds if Rhody brought a knife again (seriously he has got to stop doing that), just generally being a nicer person for a good week before he starts to go back to normal.

The next time the play fighting happens, the same thing will happen again, a vicious cycle that Jersey can’t snap himself out of.

[transingthoseformers]

For some reason i get the will to write just as I'm about to sleep so here's some snippets from the new wips i started ig

Another steam filled vent escaped him, the light blindfold almost heavy on his faceplates. Though, considering how his audials and optical sensors were previously disabled, it was merely symbolic of Starscream's control over him.

He sucked in a breath as her talons traced a line on his wings, the sensation still so new to him. Megatron could feel another pearl of lubricant trailing down his thigh.

~~~~

The dulled scalpel trailed up Tarn's neck, all the way up to his mask, as Pharma stared down at the kneeling mech. Clicks, pops, and groans emerged from his manually deactivated vocalizer, the two of them unwilling to take the risk. In Pharma's opinion, the mech's voice is just as pretty like this

~~~~

Tarn looked up at the blue and purple mech, a self proclaimed autobot, their red optics meeting

It did not take Tarn long to learn their universes had very, very different definitions of autobot and Decepticon.

In fact, if you had asked Tarn he would say this version of Optimus better resembled the most stereotypical of Decepticon depictions in those salacious novels about interfaction relationships. Not that he ever read them, of course. Definitely.

~~~~

Megatronus moaned roughly against his lover, his helm tucked tightly under the larger mech's own. Shockwave merely huffed, not wasting any time on affection in favor of pushing the mech against the wall more in order to gain a better angle.

~~~~

"are you sure? Sure-sure?"

"I'm fully sure, dude! I appresh— apreshhh, fuck it. I like your concern, shows me you're a good guy."

"just saying, typically I'd be pissed if someone pulls this scrap on me..."

"then take this as a way to flip the desk!"

"do you mean turn the tables"

"sorry, inside joke from the office. Can you please frag me now? Pretty please???"

~~~~

They will never admit they missed this dynamic, how Megatron enjoys how Optimus has grown more bold since the last time they interfaced, before the war.

Though, this wasn't the air of two young lovers fooling around under the stars.

This was a display of dominance.

[snarkythewoecrow]

we're pretending it's still wip wednesday

@kingofdarkness00 is always lovely and tagging me, so here is me aiming to actually do one close to the right day

okay, another random snippet from the dream/hob angst fest with all the tropes, yes, believe it or not, this snippet is actually from the same fic... what can I say? lack of inspiration and random ideas never seems to be a problem, but um, not sure how to set this up, except, think post all the trauma i put hob through, hob going through a rough recovery, and dream sorta struggling a bit, being a bit frustrated, emotions are hard and shit, so basically, this snippet is a bit of the scene where dream retreats to seek council of the one person who he trusts to truly understand him and what hob is going through, even if he feels a bit selfish for doing it... enter calliope stage right please....

Calliope ducked her head. “I would be remiss if I were to say you appeared well—as for a god of sleep and dreams, you look awfully tired, Oneiros.” A painful smile. “Perhaps it’s the weariness at being unable to change the past that is catching up to me.”  “So, does this mean you are ready to speak of Orpheus—of what happened to our son?” Guilt seized his throat and squeezed—because what did it make him—how self-serving—that he hadn’t invited her to reflect on the memories of their child, to offer the support that he’d neglected to give so long ago? His lips parted, words hanging from his tongue before remembering why he’d summoned her—selfish or not. “No, though speaking about our son is something I’d like to do—soon—if you were amenable to visiting again—that is to say, if you don’t find my company as intolerable as you once did.” Her breathy laugh and eye roll proved her still better than him. “Just as you’d answer my call—I shall always attend to yours. So, if we’re not here to discuss our history, then what is it that has affected you enough to summon me?” She raised her brows, head tilting. “Because that is a look I haven’t seen in so very long—not since we met our end.” He clenched his jaw—defensive for no reason other than pride or perhaps fear of being perceived. “I—“ he began, then stopped, sharp edges softening at her radiance, warmth. At her forgiveness. Her and Hob were more alike than he’d realized. What did humans say about a type? Shaking the thoughts aside, he pressed forward despite the itch in his throat. “I’ve come to ask for advice, as I’ve—I’ve found myself not knowing what to do—and—and I suppose you were right. I've changed--changed in ways that have left me... questioning--lost. Perhaps even fearful of making the same mistakes I once made with you." Something seemed to have become clear to her, as a quiet "Oh," escaped her lips. "Oh, Oneiros, you continue to surprise me still." He huffed. “That’s all you have to offer?” She rolled her eyes. “Scowling like a wet cat will not earn any favors. Can't a woman remark on the things she sees?" “I don't recall you stating more than your astonishment." "I suppose--though I speculate it to be true." His brows lifted, otherwise his expression blank. "And do I want to know what you suspect of me?" "That you're in love—that you've opened your heart in a way you'd never quite been able to do with me." The guilt burned his throat. “I’m sorry I didn’t—“ But he didn’t get to finish as two fingers pressed to his lips. “No, do not apologize for love, Onieros—you hold no more sway over the decisions of your heart than you do the choice of the stars to shine in your eyes.” He stayed silent, knowing better than to challenge a Muse on such a topic. Then, the fingers moved from his lips, her palm sliding to cup his cheek. “Now, come, take my hand and sit beneath the cypress,” she said, threading together their fingers. “I fancy to hear the tale of the one who claimed your heart—who has you seeking my council in such a state.”

@buckybeardreams @thefangirloutof-time @kydrogendragon

[inafieldofdaisies]

WIP Wednesday | Tagged by @socially-awkward-skeleton

This week we're circling back to the main WIP through a snippet featuring Cal, Sabrina and her defense of John. *oof* Leslie needs a hug too, for real.

"Drop the weapon and turn around, I won't ask twice." This voice… Sabrina complied, crouching down slowly, one hand discarding her weapon on the ground while the other used the opportunity to pull out her throwing knife out of its holster. "Now turn around.", the gun poked her between her shoulder blades again, and she willed her heart to slow down, refused to let panic overtake her with her life on the line. She stood back up and spun around, in one swift move the blade was at the neck of the man holding her at gunpoint, giving her a leverage after being snuck on. "Technically, you did ask twice, you mo-", the words died in her mouth the second her eyes registered who standing in front of her. "Gray?", Calahan muttered in disbelief as he reached out, removing her cap, "It's you. You… WHAT THE HELL?" "Kid.", Sabrina withdrew her hand, shock washing over her at the realization how close she had been to injuring him and before she could react he had her enveloped in a hug, "You're okay. Thank fuck." Hartley held her at an arm length, eyes full of concern as he examined her all over to confirm his words. "I'm fine, Cal. Seriously.", she let out a relieved laugh as she sheathed her knife and bent back down to pick up her gun, "I should be the one asking if you're okay, I almost stabbed you in your carotid." "Not gonna lie, that was kind of hot.", the remark was followed by one of his usual winks.

Low whimpers behind her paired with paws scratching against metal snapped her back to reality, erasing the smile off her face, "We have to get Boomer out." One carefully aimed shot was all it took for the lock to give way, and Boomer wasted no time, rushing at her and almost knocking her to the ground the second she raised up the door of the cage. "Hey, Boom.", Sabrina crouched down and stroked him on the head, "At least you made it… for once, not everything was in vain." "I can't believe you're here. That you're actually okay. Fuck.", the way his voice shook took her aback, and she couldn't help but send a worried look over her shoulder, finding him staring at her like she would vanish if he lets her out of his sight. Eyes ran over his his denim jacket that had seen better days with a couple of faded crimson stains seeped into the light material, making her hope none the blood was his. A sniper rifle was strapped to his back, his weapon of choice he had used to take out all the Peggies around them shortly before her arrival and save her the trouble of having to face John's men. Now freed, Boomer had quieted down, standing close to her and watching the younger Deputy in anticipation, tail wagging slightly. "Who's a good boy?", he bent down, taking his turn to greet Boomer, then he turned to Sabrina, "Let's go inside, I have so many questions and so much to catch you up on." She winced, "I doubt you'd like anything I would tell you…" Calahan was the first to cross into Rae-Rae's home, his features twisting into a deep frown at the bullet holes marring the walls and doors, and the way the Peggies had wasted no time rummaging through the woman's belongings, strewing anything they hadn't deemed of use to the Project all over the place.

"Ryan?", Sabrina hollered, rushing to search each room, checking underneath the beds and any hiding spot big enough to conceal Rae-Rae's boy. Cal shook his head, "I don't think he's in here, Gray. Haven't see anyone aside from the Peggies and you. When I got to my spot, Rae-Rae was already dead." "Fuck." "Yeah, things are bad, but now that you're here, there's hope. You were always the voice of reason, keeping me in check…", he furrowed his brows, "I thought John Seed had caught you, Gray, that it's just me from all us not in the Seeds' clutches." Sabrina took a seat on the couch, while Boomer rested his head against her knee, the heartbroken look in his dark eyes making her wonder if he was aware of his beloved owner's fate. Her chest felt heavy and she dreaded having to break the news to Calahan as he paced around the living room, almost wearing a trail in Rae-Rae's carpet. "Cal, I-" "I kept hoping you'd meet up with me that goddamned morning, so many times I looked back, telling myself I would see you emerge from the shadows", his voice choked up, and he blinked rapidly before taking a deep breath, "I thought I lost you, Gray. First I feared you haven't managed to get away, then everyone kept telling me you probably died to a trigger happy Peggie… But I knew better, I felt it."

"Calahan.", Sabrina stopped him, "I didn't escape. Not really… I made it out of the helicopter, managed to crawl away with my head spinning like crazy, then John was there, looming over me with this victorious smirk like he'd finally brought a game to an end…" Something about the way she had said his name, caused Hartley to pause his pacing, "That bastard." "I tried to shoot him, Cal, but only ended up passing out at his feet." "So it was you on that road with him. I received intel about a sighting of you, with John Seed. I couldn't wrap my head around it… why you'd be there." She nodded, "I woke up in an empty cell at his bunker, kid. Ended up being escorted to a torture room-" Calahan's eyes shone with fury, "Did he lay a hand on you? First Hudson, now you, I swear, I'm doing my own version of a Cleansing the moment I see him." "Joey? What's happened to her?" He remained silent, heading for Rae-Rae's TV and turning it on as he said, "It might be better to see it with your own eyes. He's taking matters beyond what you call 'tasteless advertisement', Gray." John's face appeared on the screen, his piercing blue gaze making her shiver through the recording the same way it did in person anytime he would aim it her way. But this was another side of John, before her was the man that was the face of the Project, his act carefully crafted to lure you in, fool into false pretense of security and acceptance. Staring at him was like going for a swim in a the calmest of waters, submerging fully only to encounter the shark that was lurking beneath the surface all along. She used to naively joke about his billboards, about how bizarre his old broadcasts were. All that now felt like it was thousand years away, belonging in a simpler times.

"Even the Father knows deeply of sin. It's a poison,", the outfit he wore was the same one he had on as she sat in his horror movie worthy room, his plane jacket that she had seen in his office bearing a familiar dark stain, her blood. Somewhere along the way before their confrontation where she had figured out his identity, he had taken his time to film a new broadcast, even more chilling than any of his previous ones. He spoke of the "Power of Yes" in the same matter-of-fact, cheery tone he used in his address that was blasting outside the house. Then Joey appeared on screen and Sabrina choked back a sob at her state: the duct tape stuck on her mouth, mascara covered cheeks, fresh injuries that didn't seem to be from the crash alone. "No.", her eyes brimmed with tears like Hudson's, pain shooting through her heart as she faced the ugliness of reality. "He's been playing this on a loop all over the region. Calls me daily, taunting me about Hudson, my impending 'Cleansing' and how I'd be joining her soon so he can save my soul.", Cal muttered, fidgeting with his zippo lighter. Sabrina knew the clicks of it brought him comfort, helped him to keep his anger in check anytime it would reach a dangerous point. "I'm so sorry." "I watched that damned broadcast so many times, looking for you, hoping I've missed you in the crowd, praying I didn't because of what it would mean. I suspected he must have you after the way he stared at you in Joseph's church." "Stared at me how?", she asked in confusion, her time at the Compound feeling like a blur, as if covered in a fine layer of mist she couldn't quite push through. "Like you were his next meal.", Hartley gritted out.

"Cal." "What happened, Gray? Because I'm so lost and I need you to tell me Mary May ain't right to worry you've turned or have been playing us all along, working for Joseph." "You think we're safe in here? There's a lot to cover, kid." "As safe as we'd be in Holland Valley while John Seed is still breathing." "I just need you to remain calm and listen, okay? Promise me you will." Calahan rubbed at the stubble covering his jaw, "I will do my best. Can't promise my fist won't go through any walls, I'm barely holding it together here." As if sensing her unease, Boomer raised his head to glance at her, offering her silent support, "One of his men tied me to a chair, there was a table full of tools, hinting torture was next on the menu. I grabbed a knife, cut myself free, but the damned door was locked, Cal." Sabrina shivered as she recalled the long wait until John had finally shown up, how she had imagined any possible outcome and never making it to her sister. "I waited what felt like hours until John appeared, I was planning on killing him, I truly did. He stood between me escaping that bunker and getting back to Savannah." Calahan's eyes shifted to hers in panic, making Sabrina add, "She's okay, kid." "Thank God. I avoided your cabin, knowing the trouble it would bring to her and Ms. Darcy. Why isn't he dead, Gray?"

She took a deep breath, mentally preparing herself for Hartley to look at her like she's lost it after her next words. The truth sets you free, right? It certainly had with John… she was freer than most people in the Valley, it seemed. Or safer at least. "I've been having visions since I can remember, Cal. Glimpses… of the future, oftentimes I wouldn't be able to even place them or they'd be useless as seeing someone have a stupid, mundane conversation. This is the part where you tell me it's impossible? That I'm certified.", she let out a humorless laugh. Calahan shook his head as he finally sat down next to her, "You saw something at the church, didn't you? It why you hesistated to arrest the fucker. You were so damn pale." "I got a vision of the crash, how they were taking away the others. I tried to help, but-" "We didn't listen. Fuck. I'm so sorry, Gray." "I'm used to it by now. It's more surprising when people believe me.", she gave him a sad smile, "So anyway, John comes in, starts talking about how much he knows about me, how I'd confess all my secrets to him. Turns out telling him he won't be getting shit from me is the wrong thing to say, he lost it and got all up in my face, and all I could picture was slashing his throat, leaving him to bleed out. But then I saw his tattoos…" Hartley had grown restless the more she spoke, flicking his lighter open and closed at an alarming rate, the sound echoing as her words died down. Sabrina reached out, stopping the haunted movement, palm covering his hand.

"Throughout the years, I've seen a lot of things, there was something that remained a constant, a man, I could never quite see his face, Cal, but his tattoos are practically embedded in my mind by now." "No way. Those ugly ass scribbles he has going on?" Sabrina nodded, "It was his tattoos I was seeing all this time and it stopped me, made me doubt if I'd succeed at killing him, if it won't make things worse for me." Calahan had a strange look on his face, "Why?" "Because none of the visions involving him had taken place yet, which meant he would live." "This is… Jesus.", he shoved his free hand in his jacket pocket, pulling out a pack of cigarettes and lit one quickly, taking a deep pull before muttering, "Forgive me, Rae-Rae." "I know. He asked me what I've seen at the church, suspecting something had happened. I came up with a plan… to use his curiosity, his hubris to my advantage. I needed to 'confess'." "Gray, that shit means nothing, those damned broadcasts about confessing your sins, confessing doesn't get you-" "Not my 'sins', kid, but about my ability, that I could be of use to him. I couldn't try to be a hero, I had to get back to my sister alive. And it worked… eventually he brought me to his office, and we made a deal for him to bring me to Savannah in exchange of knowledge." "You joined them?", Calahan's voice was cold, distant. "I didn't join anything. I offered him my notebooks where I kept notes of my past visions, he could have them all for all I cared. He met Savannah and I-I managed to convince him to not bring us back to that hellhole. She's at his ranch right now, I sneaked out because I saw a vision of Rae-Rae, hoped I'd be able to warn her.", tears were threatening to escape, to spill out like her words had, "But I was too late."

"This is insane. A deal?", he pushed off the couch, returning to pacing, concern mixing with his anger as he swiveled to face her, "How can you trust him? He fucking had you tied to a chair!" Sabrina bit her lip, "I know how it sounds, trust me. But it's the only choice I had and still have." "We can get her, Gray. Right fucking now. Have Savannah in Fall's End before John knows what hit him." "And then hide or constantly be on the run with him pissed off because I've broken our deal and fled?" His blue eyes darkened as he took another drag of his cigarette, "I told you I'd kill him, now feels like the perfect time. Bet it would be hard for him seek revenge when he's dead." The thought of the man she had looked for all these years getting killed by another that had become like family to her threatened to split her heart in two, "He's just one head of the snake, Joseph is the one pulling all the strings." The edge to his words chilled her to the bone, "I will see how old Joe likes it when I personally deliver his brother's corpse at his church's doors, no hiding behind a warrant or upholding the peace this time around. I'm torching the whole place to the ground, like they did with the Sheriff's. What I should have done long time ago, really." Something darker, haunting, filled with regret lurked behind his last remark. "No."

Sabrina got up too, trying to keep panic out of her voice, knowing it won't do her any good in her attempt to make him see reason, to stop him from rushing headfirst into his own demise and taking someone she cared for down with him. "You can't kill him." His laugh was void of any humor, "Can't? Or you don't want me to? Because take one look outside and what Joseph turned us all into - killers." "We can use him, make him see.", she steeled her gaze, "He's not too far gone." Or at least she hoped it was true, holding onto every moment they had shared that told her as much. "The guy that ties people to chairs in his bunker and carves sins into them ain't too far gone?", Calahan seemed less than convinced as he searched for something he could put his cigarette out on, finally dropping it into a half-empty cup of coffee. The same one Rae-Rae probably hadn't gotten the chance to finish when John's men had stormed her property, set on seeing their mission through. Carving? What the fuck are you doing, John? She avoided asking what he meant by it, sensing a landmine in hiding. "He's not-" "He's not what?", there was a disbelief in his tone when he cut her off. "I know it makes no difference, but he's not tying people up himself." "Great, so he's entitled on top of being a violent psycho. Must be all that money… fucking attorneys."

"Cal.", Sabrina pinched the bridge of her nose, watching him open and close Rae-Rae's cabinets on another hunt for God knew what, "Can you please just sit down, you're making me jittery as hell." "There you are.", he exlaimed as he pulled out a liquor bottle out of one of the cupboards, downing a drink before pouring himself another and walking back to the couch with the glass clutched in his hand like a lifeline, "Don't look at me like that. It ain't early for a drink now. And even if it was… I'd say the circumstances excuse it." "I'm not-,", she shook her head, "I'm worried about you, kid. Have you eaten-" Calahan walked over and pulled her into his embrace with his free hand, the scent of smoke wrapping around her like his arm did, "You're something else, you now that? You're basically a hostage and worrying about me eating." He pulled back, offering her a small smile, "Back to the 'John can be redeemed' argument now that I've gotten my dose of liquor courage. And look, I haven't even punched anything yet." She lowered herself back onto the couch, gaze focuse on Rae-Rae's backyard through one of the living room windows when Hartley took his previous seat next to her. "He hasn't 'carved' anything into me." A groan ripped free from his chest, "Yet." "There's a different side to him, one I'm willing to fight for." "You mean different than that?", Calahan pointed at the now muted TV playing John's broadcast on a neverending loop. "Yeah."

"In what way?", curiosity shone in his blue eyes. "He helped me make breakfast. He was worried about me when I got hurt and kept us out of that bunker." Hartley whistled, making Boomer's ears perk up as he remained curled up by the couch, "Romantic. Leslie can also make breakfast, you know? And better yet, he's not part of a cult." Sabrina blinked at the sudden mention of her ex-partner, the squeak of the front door as it swung open, making both of them jump from their sitting position and point their guns at whoever had decided to try sneaking up on them. "Cal, you in here?" It was as if time stood still where she stared at the man that filled up the entryway of Rae-Rae's house. Where she told herself what she was witnessing was impossible. Then one simple word sprung her into action. "Rina?" Sabrina was rounding the couch the second her nickname rolled off his lips, and Leslie set off towards her too, meeting her halfway. An arm snaked around her waist, the other holding a shotgun while her hands clutched at his leather jacket. "What are you doing here?", the question was met with his laughter, and she couldn't help but blink back another wave of tears that wanted to escape. "What do you think?", she pulled out of his embrace, her eyes meeting his, "I came to see you."

A fake cough sounded behind them, "Just reminding you two I'm here in case a make-out session ensues…" Sabrina spun on her heel, "Why didn't you tell me, kid?" "You found her.", Leslie chimed in at the same time. "Sure, I will take the credit.", Calahan raised his glass and took a generous sip, "Now, sit down, chief. Gray was in the middle of telling me all about John Seed's 'sweet side'." Parish complied, perching himself on one of the armrests of the couch while she stared at the two of them, shock coursing through her system. "John? Sweet?", he frowned as he patted the empty space next to him, and Sabrina shuffled over reluctantly, "Why were you two talking about that fucker?" Calahan left his glass at the coffee table that was moved away from her usual spot by the couch and lit up another cigarette, "Well, well, well, fuck me, if things ain't about to get interesting. The next couple of minutes consisted of her catching Leslie up on the attempted escape, her short stay at the bunker and finally coming clean about her visions. "So this is how you knew Kim will be having a baby girl?", Parish asked as he accepted the drink Hartley had poured for him, "Why didn't you tell me, Rina?" "I was afraid…", she muttered slowly, gaze glued to the intricate pattern on the carpet below her feet, "that you would look at me differently or worse, not believe me at all."

His hand came to rest on top of hers, "You know me better than that." "I do." "And John… is the 'mystery man'? You two haven't met before you moved here." She nodded and offered him a sad smile. "You're certain it's him?" "I am." Leslie rubbed at his lip, a telltale sign he was deep in thought, whispering a quiet, "Fuck." Calahan was sitting down on the floor a few feet away from them, cross legged, stroking Boomer's head as the canine snuggled against his knee, "Speaking of Johnny… how are your breakfast making skills, chief?" Sabrina's eyes widened, "Don't start." A wicked grin was pointed her way, hinting at his intentions, "Can't do. Tell me, Gray, have you noticed perhaps that Leslie here looks like a certain someone?" It was Leslie's turn to send him a look of warning, "Cal. I do not." "He practically can be John's double, unfortunate fate considering the current state of the County." She crossed her arms over her chest, "Les looks nothing like John." The words won a grateful smile from Parish, "Thank you, Rina." "Tell that to all the folks I had to stop from killing him,", Calahan paused, "you're welcome by the way." Her face twisted in concern, "People have been threatening you?" "It's fine. Nothing I can't handle." "Wouldn't call it fine.", Calahan argued, "But my point is… you have a perfect John candidate, Sabrina, sitting right next to you."

Parish finally brought the glass he'd been holding up to his lips, "We're not going there." "Absolutely not going there.", Sabrina repeated for good measure. "You sure?", Hartley cocked his head to the side, "He's also taller than good old Johnny, has a voice that doesn't grate my ears, especially when he says 'Deputy'." She rolled her eyes, "I happen to like his voice, thank you very much." The moment the words left her mouth, she wanted to slap a hand over it, especially with how his lips twisted into a devilish smirk, "You sure about that? Check back with me when it turns out he chants 'Yes' over and over when he comes…", his voice pitched in an attempt to mimic John's, something she wished to unhear, "'Yes, Deputy. I'm so close. YES. YES. YES.'" By then Leslie's glass was empty, and she was tempted to pour herself a drink as well, "Cal." "What? You two think he doesn't? I'd go as far as to bet on it. Bastard sure loves the word." "I really don't want to visualize my best friend in bed with another man." Sabrina hitched her thumb towards him, "Exactly." Calahan chuckled darkly, "Though luck, chief. Your best friend has been seeing it for years." "Calahan!" "Look at me,", he pointed at his eyes, "and tell me you haven't, not once, seen a vision of Johnny in a compromising position. The noisy part of me wants to know, you know… but then when I think more about it, I feel like puking."

"I haven't.", she retorted quickly, cheeks heating up at the lie. "Liar." "Drop it, Calahan." "The more you deny it, the less I believe it's all innocent, Gray. How R-rated did it get, though?" All he got as reply was silence. "Fucking ew. That bad?", his first covered his mouth, before he muttered to himself, "Johnny must have some hidden moves." "Calahan." Leslie cleared his throat, running a hand over his face in exasperation, "Can we change the subject?" "Sure.", Calahan said with a nonchalant shrug, "I can just circle to it later. Now that I have you here, Leslie, maybe you could get it through her skull that she can't be staying with him at his ranch. Deal of protection and spicy visions be damned." "Where have you been staying, kid?", Sabrina uttered out. He scrunched his nose, "Mary May's couch, turns out my cabin has an cult infestation problem, thankfully Zorro held the fort until I arrived. Haven't slept that well with people getting snatched and killed left and right…" "Exactly. I can't risk Savannah's life. You know how they say, 'Better the devil I know, that the one I don't'? John's that. A safer alternative than the unknown." "How safe of an option is he really, Rina?"

Calahan chimed in, pulling out his lighter again, watching the small flame dancing before he extinguished it, "I just can't imagine you and Savannah under the same roof with that bastard." "He's actually different around her. It's kind of scary how easy he switches roles. From this,", she gestured to the TV, "to a man that carries me to bed because he refuses to let me sleep outside. 'Can't let a bear eat me.', he said." "Have you though even for a second he might be playing you. Trying to lure you in, so you join the fucking cult." "I won't. And I don't think he is…" Hartley rolled his eyes, sending a pleading look towards Leslie who remained awfully quiet, "For fuck's sake. Help me over here, Parish." "He hasn't told Joseph about me, Calahan. He's keeping it a secret, keeping my visions a secret." "Or he's lying, and they're both laughing at how trusting you are." "No." "How can you be sure?", he scoffed, "The bastard is a master manipulator, a sleazy lawyer that stole half the County's land for the goddamned Project and had Whitehorse shaking in his boots, and you… are next on his to-do list. Literally too, I guess." "That was something Joseph put him up to. Me… if he really knew about my visions, I'd be dead by now. Even John couldn't deny it." "Good old Joseph, oh, how he'd lose his mind if he learns 'God' has been showing visions of his brother fornicating to someone else, he'd probably die from the shock before I have the chance to kill him.", he narrowed his eyes, a look of disgust passing over his features again. "Can you please stop talking about me and him in that way?" Leslie spoke up for the first time in forever, "Dito."

"Sorry, Gray. But I'm still trying to wrap my head around the fact you like the guy… with his weird fashion sense, questionable siblings and, I don't know, the giant knock-off of the Hollywood sign he had them Peggies built for him." "You're forgetting the billboards." "Thanks, chief. Billboard, broadcasts,", Calahan blew the flame of his lighter, watching it come to life again, "posters of his face all around his bunker, I'm being told by trusted sources. That true?" "Yeah. I saw a couple." His eyes lit up all of sudden, "Oakley bet me $50 a while back that he has a sex room in the ranch." "Are you for real?" "As serious as me promising I'd be setting his 'YES' sign on fire and taking selfies underneath it, perfect lighting and all that. So, does he?" "As far as I know… no?" "Not a definitive answer then?" Leslie got up without a word and walked out into the backyard, the two watching him as sat onto the picnic table there with his back to them. Calahan released a laugh, "I think he had enough of me." "You think?" "Now it's just us…", he lowered his voice, "Those visions… was Johnny that good, promise I won't tell a soul?" "Focus." "Yes or no?"

Tagging, @poisonedtruth @direwombat @adelaidedrubman @josephslittledeputy @josephseedismyfather @trench-rot @g0dspeeed @madparadoxum @purplehairsecretlair @aceghosts @shegetsburned @jillvalentinesday @nightbloodbix @wrathfulrook @florbelles @corvosattano @voidika @theelderhazelnut @chazz-anova @clicheantagonist @cassietrn @stacispratt @simplegenius042 @thesingularityseries @eclecticwildflowers @dumbassdep and anyone that would like to share a wip ❤️

[crossbackpoke-check]

nosy anon again making a return because i think what my brain did was read that i helped find some kind of writing and then did not fully process what the writing was?? but upon rereading i am very intrigued if you ever get the urge to share i will be all eyes/ears/senses required to enjoy things!!

I GET TO DO WIP WEDNESDAYYYYYY!!! the writing exists mostly in the form of a tag (fantastic! 'verse) and also a thirty-two page doc of snippets and planning, so the sense you will be using most is imagination:

don't think i have ever actually formally written out anything about fantastic! 'verse but! the tl;dr of it is that it's a semi-college au: joel is still a hockey player for the lv phantoms, but morgan is a college student-athlete. it's incredibly relevant to the plot that joel falls in love with morgan in the check-out line of a wegman's, lies a little bit, and ends up going back to get his degree.

most of it is just good fun about college kids growing up, but i think there's a lot of parallels between making your way through a development system where traditional "success" isn't always guaranteed (ahl -> nhl, completion of higher education -> pursuit of a career) because that development system isn't always designed for you to "succeed" or have opportunities. heavy quotation marks around success because part of that struggle is learning what you want in life and how you define success. are your dreams achievable? are they still the same dreams you always used to have? it's infinite branching universes of would you still love me if i was a worm (ahl player forever) (a college dropout) (a college graduate) (older) (realizing the fallibility of your body) (uncertain of the future) (human).

silly little snippet:

[henrike-does-writing-sometimes]

To desire was to hunger. To feel the raw beating of a heart against your lips, to mark up insides in ways that wouldn’t fade and couldn’t be replaced. And Ruben didn’t mind.  If Anruh wanted to squeeze his every organ to mush, carve her name into his broken bones and rip his heart from his chest, he’d let her.

Y'all need to put me down tbh.