#don't tell me there's not people out there itching to use their guns to do that

[phatburd]

🔥

[kneelingshadowsalome]

literally can't stop thing about highschoolsweetheart!au where darling is 24/7 clinging onto a slightly annoyed/frustrated könig's arm, autistically chatting his ear off about random things like cute cat videos that she saw, dinosaurs or art, gushing about how much she loves him, how utterly handsome he's looking and that they're absolutely meant to be!! 🥺 always nuzzling him and pressing sweet kisses to his face.

until... maybe he snaps and shuts her up :// not in a nice way. maybe i'm projecting here, but i've been silenced before and it did nasty things to me. (bit of advice for unknowing peeps, don't make autistic people stop rambling, if you can help it. let them down gently if you must 💌)

back to our sheep... she suddenly shuts in. doesn't chat as much as before, slowly sticking to only utilitarian stuff. avoids his gaze oftenly, gradually starting to keep her distance, stops initiating affectionate things. she still absolutely adores him, but she's hurt, heart constricting in her chest. thinks she's doing him a service by listening to his 'request' at shutting the hell up, thinking she's making him happier. she's still itching to babble, making an active effort at stoping herself from going back to her rambling habits.

how would könig feel? react?

imagine what would it be like, if after some time of this distance, at a social gathering or something, he sees a man approaching her. another MAN!! how is this possible?? and he's... he's asking her about things? looking interested in her talk, eyeing her up and down??

would you do me the honour of tormenting this poor man for me? :33

Her ramblings were cute at first, then they started to go in one ear and out the other. König has a budding tinnitus from work and only wants to rest, but she skitters to him like a lovesick cat, climbs into his lap, and starts to talk his ear off about attachment styles and some pop psychology.

The enthusiasm in her eyes is what bothers him the most – he’s hit with envy, bright hot and red, because he has no time for intellectual interests these days. There's nothing but gun oil and gym to keep him busy. He was supposed to become either a philosopher or a fighter, but since they said philosophers can’t get pussy, he chose the other option (and still got little to no pussy), sad wanker as he was back then.

He either doesn’t know what the hell she is talking about or, he would want to discuss with her about the subjects she’s into, so much in fact that it would soon become an autistic competition of its own. But the deeply ingrained memory of being called a scrawny nerd is keeping his mouth shut even now, when he’s approaching his mid-thirties.

So he tells her she should read an actual book about the subject and stop filling her head with nonsense layman theories.

It hurts; it fucking burns, the mute, helpless stare she shoots at him. She scoots away, sorely upset, and won’t come back to him before the evening fall.

There's no cute noises and kisses peppered all over his face, no dangling from his neck and prattling away about the differences between C. S. Lewis and Tolkien; no videos where a cat tries to fish the last pringles with its paw or memes that remind her of him. There's just a broken girl and a knife in his heart, but he’s too ashamed and proud to apologize.

And so she comes back to him when he won't go to her, the deep yearning always overthrowing her pride. It feeds his self loath by gallons: she's better than him, always has been.

She hugs his middle when they lie down to sleep, forehead pressed against his upper back. She’s too small to reach the back of his neck, but she won’t wriggle upwards like an adorable little worm to place a kiss there like she used to. Just falls asleep with a sigh, holding him tight.

His sleep arrives only after hours have passed, and the knife inside his heart has finally done its duty and euthanized the whole organ.

They never talk about it: but she prattles far less nonsense to him now. He nearly breaks the silence one day and asks her about the Myers Pigs test or whatever it was called, see if she would crack open from her shell and laugh. He could coax her to tell him what her newest interest is nowadays, what makes her eyes bright and shiny when he’s away. But he’s too fucking ashamed, too goddamm proud to tell her that she’s annoyingly cute when she talks so much and that he fucking loves her for that. That she’s the silliest girl he’s ever met and if he had a hat, he would take it off every time she wanted to share another monologue.

If he had the balls, he would ask if she had all this madness inside her when they were kids but never had the courage to spill it out… If he's the only person she has allowed to see this side of her without fear.

...

He returns to the party after having a smoke – a bad habit everytime he knows he's about to down a few beers – only to see she’s engaged in a heated conversation with some other guy.

Or, the guy is asking questions, while his girl is about to burst out of her dress from the eagerness to tell him everything about some new hyperfixation of hers. Something she hasn’t really shared with him; not anymore...

The knife is still in his heart, it seems, because it twists. Violently.

He looks for a weapon to defend himself: an empty beer bottle, a knife on the table, an untended umbrella by the door; his fists, ungloved. It’s just a routine check, a simple habit that was hammered in his system years ago, and of course this is not the time or the place for violence. He just… fantasizes about stabbing that guy in the liver with some blunt cutlery, pounding his ribs to pieces until his knuckles bleed with jealousy. He even fantasizes her screams when she sees what kind of a man he really is: a weak wanker who turned into a pitiful beast of a man.

These flashes take only a second or two, then he squares his shoulders and goes to get his girl back.

“How about we dance,” he offers his hand to her, palm up like the other guy was made of air – or not even that.

Her eyes light up with surprise, pure, undiluted hope, her interest in her chat companion now completely gone.

“You... You want to dance?”

His lips compress into a thin line, his nostrils flaring from the need to either claim her right on this floor or turn and beat the competing dick beside him into a pulp.

Then her hand finds his, her soft little smile pulls him back, her eyes now shining to him and only him.

It’s a slow one, the song, and he only notices it when she lifts her hands and cups the back of his neck. Tingles shoot down his spine and send a curious little twitch down his dick – even his testes pull up a notch. They’ve fucked a thousand times, and still, she has this effect on him... All she needs to do is smile and touch his neck, and his body answers; he’s hers.

“Does this mean you like me…?” She asks with a playful smile when his hands come to naturally claim her waist.

“...What?”

“You saw me with that guy and came to whisk me away.”

He tries to avoid her stare, fakes to steal a glimpse at the other pairs dancing, but it’s challenging when she looks at him like… like that.

“He was drooling all over you back there,” he mutters.

“...Oh? So you came to save me?”

“You have difficulty saying no.”

She's relaxed, while he's stiff, the adrenaline leaving him slowly and with a rising boner. It doesn't help that she's drawing little circles on his skin, right there where it tickles and sends more pulls down his cock.

He tries to breathe deep and slow, but it doesn’t really work much. There are times when he gets a hard-on from her playing with his hair or brushing a set of fingertips across his nipple, and then there are times when he really wishes she wouldn’t do shit like this. Not when they’re at a party and he almost had a temper tantrum in front of everyone.

“König… You never dance,” she says with a weighted stare. He answers it with a heavy glare of his own, eyes that should tell her enough about his true feelings for her.

There’s a thin line between love and hate, but never has he felt this undeniable truth as acutely as he has with her...

“If you don’t stop with the tickling I’m going to have to take you upstairs for a fuck.”

Her tiny little fingers stop immediately, but her eyes shine brighter than ever before. From shock, love, or awe, who knows. Then she picks up that annoying habit again, a bit too keenly to convey any kind of actual fear.

“You’re begging for it, aren’t you...?” He comments with genuine contempt.

“...Yes?” She answers with a breath of a smile, pure love in her stare.

He grunts as if tired, then scoops her up, right there on the dance floor and takes her upstairs when everyone can see.

“You like me. Admit it,” she babbles when he carries her inside some guest bedroom and kicks the door shut, with her snug and smiling in his arms.

“Yes, yes. You can tell me all about everything when I’m done with you.”

“All about everything?” She giggles as he throws her on the bed and starts to take off his shirt. Her eyes shoot to his pecs, then to his fingers when he unzips his pants. There's no lie, no deceit in that stare, just adoration and want.

“First you have to be quiet. Think you can manage that?”

She opens her pink little mouth, then shuts it, starts to nod like a broken doll.

When he eventually slides in, the poor doll whimpers, just like he thought.

"Hush," he gruffs, but doesn't cover her mouth.

He can have a little taste, a sip, a treat... Because the knife in his heart stops rattling only when he makes love to her – he does that often, even if he calls it 'fucking' in his mind.

[peacheeeliz]

036. these kids are so weird,,, (wc: 1474)

Mark's hands found their way under your shirt, grasping at the skin right above your waistband. The cold touch of his fingertips pulls you out of this trance, and your eyes shoot open before you push him away. “Mark, we can't,” you tell him, pulling yourself out of his arms and away from the table.

Mark's eyebrows scrunch together, still too dazed from the kiss to even understand what you're doing. “What are you talking about?”

“This Mark, this,” you explain, pointing back and forth between the two of you. “I'm sorry, but I just can't.”

“Oh, so you can kiss me, twice now,” he starts, huffing as he crosses his arms in front of his chest. “But this won't work? What the fuck are you going on about?”

“I really don't want to talk about it,” you continue, turning away from him. “Let's just finish this game and go our separate ways.”

“No, fuck that, I want to talk about this,” he pushes himself off the table, walking towards you. “You kissed me for a reason, it wasn't just because of some stupid, pent-up frustration!” He pauses, staring at the back of your head. “Why did you tell Hyuck and Julie about my drunk texts?”

You still don't turn around to face him until he's tugging on your wrist and doing it for you. “Why, Y/N?” He asks again, voice much quieter than before. “Why can't we just fucking talk about this like adults? We've been avoiding this talk ever since you told me to ‘stay single,’ but I can feel it, man. Come on, why do we have to beat around the bush all the time?”

You're silent for a moment, avoiding his gaze with all your might. Finally, just barely above a whisper, “can we just talk about this later?” You let out. “Please.”

Mark scoffs, letting go of your wrist. “Whatever,” he sighs, going to collect his things. He throws you your paintball gun, “go on. Let's just get this over with, I'm sure you're itching to get away from me.”

You stare down at the gun in your hands, confusion written all over your face as you look back up at him. “Don't act stupid now, just shoot me and get this fucking game over with,” he continues, standing there with arms wide open, inviting in the inevitable loss.

“I'm not going to shoot you, Mark,” you spit back, watching his eyes roll. “There could still be people in. You don't know that we’re the last two for certain.”

“I think if there was anyone else left, they would've gotten the both of us out when my tongue was down your throat for five minutes,” he argues, reaching towards his own paintball gun. He aims it straight at you, “listen, it's either you or me. I really don't care who gets this priority registration anymore.”

Before you can say anything back, the door flies open, and in comes Johnny all decked out like he had been a part of the game the whole time. He's armed with a much larger paintball gun, with a tiger print pattern running across the side. Mark and you stare at each other with wide eyes, which makes a sinister grin grow on the instructor's face. He starts firing around the room like a maniac, but you're both quick to take cover behind a tipped-over table nearby, flinching as his bullets paint the entire room.

The paintball gun slows to a stop, and you both hear maniacal laughter come from the other side of the room. “Ohayo, children,” he starts, reloading the weapon promptly. “You'll be happy to know you made it all the way ‘til the end.”

“You're not even a student!” Mark shouts from behind the table.

“Wrong!” He shouts back. Although the two students can't see, Johnny whips out a sheet of paper with his schedule written across it. “Weight training and music production, biatch!”

You blindly shoot at the ceiling, hoping to scare your instructor off, but he continues to shoot around the room. Mark stares at you, “give me your gun,” he whispers out, cursing to himself for not grabbing his own before hiding behind the table.

“Fuck no, are you crazy?” You let out, eyebrows furrowed as you looked back at him.

“Look, one of us has to win, alright?” He sighs, reaching for your paintball gun.

You slap his hand away, “yeah, and it's going to be you.” You pause, grabbing ahold of his hand. “Look, you got the drop on me. I lost. Let me do this for you.”

He reaches his free hand up to cup your cheek, pulling you in for another kiss. Mark yearns for nothing more than to just stay there with you, ignoring their maniacal instructor and just talk about their feelings. But he knows that's not possible, so he lets go of your hand to reach for your gun.

You pull back quickly, a smile on your face as you pull your weapon away from him. “Nice try,” you say, patting his cheek. “Go get that priority registration for us.”

Johnny's weapon slows to a stop again, and he's throwing it to the ground, instead pulling out two smaller paintball guns from his jacket. You rise from your spot behind the table, locking eyes with your instructor instantly. You run out, aiming your weapon at the man and firing. He does the same, firing his two paintball guns as he runs for protection. Time almost slows as you both shoot out at the same time, paintballs flying straight into your chests.

Johnny sinks down to the ground with a loud groan, dropping his weapons. You let out a deep breath, angry with the fact that you had worn such a cute shirt today. Mark peeks up from behind the table, eyes meeting yours with a quick smile. He stands, walking his way around until he steps in front of Johnny's dropped weapon, but the older man laughs again as he watches his student arm himself with his old weapon.

“What's so funny, Suh?” Mark questions, standing above him with his head held high.

“Maybe it's the fact there's no such thing as priority registration,” he says, watching the boy's smile fall. “Or, maybe it's this.” He opens his jacket, revealing a makeshift paint bomb with a timer. His hand inches up and presses the small red button on the side, and the ticking down of the five second clock starts soon after.

You look at each other with wide eyes before Mark is dashing out through the door, almost flying through it to keep himself clean of any paint. He lands on the floor with a thud, while a green explosion goes off behind him, painting the now closed door and windows.

The Dean sits quietly in his office, dunking a tea bag carefully into his mug. Enjoying his peace until Johnny would return and end this very long and tiring day. That's until a voice calls out from behind his door, calling his name. He freezes, recognizing the voice to not belong to his employee, but Mark Lee. “Just one moment,” he says, resting his hands on his desk.

It takes less than a moment for Mark to kick the office door down, startling the man out of his chair. He walks slowly into the room, glaring daggers right into the Dean’s head. “Oh, hi there, Mark,” the man squeaks out. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Everybody out there is shooting each other for nothing,” Mark explains, although the Dean very well knows this. “While you sit here in your ivory tower.”

“Mark, I can explain,” the Dean says, raising his arms in defense. He nods, “I messed up when I promised priority registration. Apparently, it's a violation of some student equality act, but…” He pauses, presenting the boxed PlayStation Five that lays on his desk. “This isn't, tada!”

Mark doesn't need to voice out his frustration. He just shoots at the box until the Dean drops it back down onto his desk. He continues to fire around the room, screaming as the Dean yells out his name in horror and drops behind his desk. The gun whirs to a stop, prompting Mark to drop it on the ground with a huff.

The Dean peeks up over the wood, rising to his feet. He lets out a sigh, “you get it all out of your system?” But only gets quiet laughter in response.

Mark laughs for a moment, “almost.” He's quick to pull out a smaller paintball gun from behind his back, aiming and shooting the Dean right in the forehead. He pulls the gun back, blowing down the end of the barrel.

The Dean stands there, defeated. “What do you want from me, Mark?”

“Guess.”

synopsis ⤏ mark, desperate to talk to the cute girl in his japanese class, forms a study group. who knew that other struggling college students might want to join a study group?

a/n: it's not marky/n if there's no problems 😃

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[callofdudes]

ghost x fem or gn reader headcannons of a zombie apocalypse AU??? just them trying to survive with the rest of the 141<33

This tickles a little itch in my brain, might have gotten a little carried away 😊

Ghost x reader Zombie apocalypse headcanons

You'd think in a million years no one was ready for the apocalypse. Hell most people didn't even know how it started. But it did. Cities were crumbling, rabid monsters that followed their hunger for blood anywhere it took them.

You were one of few in the grand scheme to survive. Your parents, siblings, they weren't as lucky. You had been unable to protect them at all. Though after escaping and going on the run with some spares of clothing and your father's pistol in your pocket you were soon to become aware this was your new life.

It wasn't easy having to learn to hunt in one day or find all these tactics to remain silent, undetected, all of that.

You felt alone. So alone...

That is until one day, after having spent two days out in the wilderness with not a hint of prey around and you were starving. Walking through the woods up stumbled upon a camp. A fire was lit, a small pot strung by three bundles sticks above the flame, and something delicious boiling away.

Your curiosity and hunger got the best of you and you toed into the camp. A canopy set up of sorts and some old books that looked to have been torn for fire food.

You were about to look through a cooler under the canopy when you heard the sound of a gun above. "I wouldn't do that mate."

Your eyes snapped up, looking up at the tree tops to see... A man. A large man strung up in the tree by a rather thick rope. One used by professional rock climbers and such. Perfectly sat on a thick enough tree branch to hold his weight.

"I... Apologize... I wasn't trying to- I'm just hungry."

He scrutinized you, noticing the backpack and the possibility of a weapon on you. He flicked something on the hook of his rope and hopped off the branch like it was the back of a horse and slid gracefully back down the tree.

You noticed then his mask. A chilling thing. Considering you had been around zombies the last few years, that was saying something. And my dear he was tall.

"Hungry huh? Got a group?"

You could tell he was very excited to get you out of his little set up and didn't seem to want any meddling around with outsiders. People he didn't know. And in this day, hell you could understand and respect that.

"No... Do you?"

He didn't answer, and probably wouldn't answer most of your questions by the way he was acting. However, he didn't exactly push you away either. He was more waiting for you to get the hint through your thick skull and piss off.

And yet you didn't move.

"Look, I don't work with people, you don't want to be with me. So piss off." He finally grunted, checking whatever he had boiling away.

"Sir, I understand. But I'm hungry, I have no where to go and you look like you could be a good protective companion."

"We wouldn't be companions. Extra luggage is what I call it."

"I won't bug you I promise I'll be quiet, but.... Please??"

He rolled his eyes, tearing down the canopy of the set up and shoving it down into his large duffle back. "Fine. But if you piss me off I'm dumping you at the side of the woods alright??"

You nod, slowly sitting down by the stack of books, your stomach twisting and growling painfully. He looked at you, then his food. He sighed and pulled the pot off the small fire and doused it out, finding a small spare bowl and shoved it your way.

He was surprisingly lenient. Although he was telling the truth when he told you to shut up. He didn't want to talk to you and he clearly didn't trust any part of you one bit.

He allowed you to keep your gun and you stayed out of his way. And you tagged along for any scraps of the meals he would make. Even if he clearly was not the best chef in the woods.

This continued for upwards of three months. Not much changed. You learned his name, Ghost, and he pretty much knew yours from near the start of this expedition.

He was closed off, maybe from the fact zombies were a total 65% percent of the population mark up now. Maybe something else.

Eventually though, you made a small trip at a gas station. Ghost went in to search the place while you remained near the entrance, a meat shield should anything try to get through the door. How nice of him.

You stood by the door in waiting, your little pistol ready for any threat while Simon rummaged through food inside the store. It was dead quiet outside. Not a single sound.

You were waiting patiently until you heard a clatter from inside and a loud screech. You knew that all too well.

You ran inside, your pistol at the ready but Ghost had it covered, letting the thing tear into a chip bag and shot it in the back. And then he spotted you.

"I had that." You pouted.

"Sure you did tough stuff." Ghost roughly messed with your matted hair and you were off soon after.

You were pretty much just extra baggage to him for the most part. Though he fed you, bandaged you, cleaned your wounds and made sure you were always able to defend yourself.

"You solid?"

"I have two more clips. Take them, and use them sparingly."

"We don't have all day, we cross the river by dusk and then you can rest... don't make me carry you."

But slowly his belligerently tough nature gives way to care. Slowly here and there you can point it out. The extra glances, checking you in more spots than you say it hurts just to make sure you don't have a single scratch or bruise.

Giving you extra soup or food of whatever has been made. He's strong and healthy but will ration off, having less than two meals a day has become a normality, one at all was a blessing from God, so he'd give you what he could.

And then after his scouting trip was done, he brought you back home. Simon and his small group were all ex military. I say ex military because despite the weapons there isn't much of one anymore.

He brought you back to an old military base, a barbwire fence with a buzzer stretching high and all around the base keeping it secure.

Pressing the buzzer and announcing his presence the door was opened. "Don't worry... only two of them bite." Simon teases, shifting his gun behind his back as you come inside.

He walked into one of the main areas which lead down to the barracks. Inside were three people around a small campout, a fire pit of sorts made in the middle of the living room with ash and bricks.

"Son, you're back." An older man said, standing. "And whose this??" He watched you intensely, looking you up and down.

"This is my carry-on. Dragged them through the wastes with me."

He nods, walking over to shake your hand. "John Price. Glad to see you're well and safe under Simon's care."

So that's what his name was. Simon. A lovely name.

The next to greet you was a man with a ball cap on and stern brown eyes. Looking like he was far away in though. "Kyle Garrick. Welcome to our... bunker."

The last to greet you was surprisingly a little hesitant. Johnny was the least assumed to your presence. He was all for welcoming people but the current conditions has left too many dead or gone and no one trusted.

"John MacTavish... you can call me Soap though, so you don't get me and the captain confused."

And before you knew it you were given a room in the barracks and a place at your table. They were very nice people, they gave you a job, and split the resources and news Simon brought of his last months mapping. So much had changed since they'd last really gone outside.

Overtime you grew to understand how it all worked. Gaz was a bodyguard of sorts, when you needed to go outside to fix something, get some water to filter from a river not terribly far away, he would be there. He'd go short distances with you and the others, being their back and watching their six.

Soap was more of the tinkerer. He put together traps and levers and fixed up any weapons or gear that needed repairing. He called most of it Guerilla warfare.

Price was the leader, you could tell. He had everyone under his voice and what he says went. If there was something going on outside he'd be the first one out there to see if he could take care of it alone. He went out on food and water runs sometimes as well. He is also resident cook.

And Simon, he did a bit of everything from what you saw.

Soap had managed to get the power back up briefly in the base. Somewhere a power grid was still operational that the base connected to and he got the heaters working. Even on colder when you found yourself alone with a blanket around you, you weren't alone.

Simon would watch. His sleep schedule was still on night duty mode even if they were surrounded by brick and mortar.

He'd even sit with you sometimes. The more you came out to sit in the living room the more he'd be with you. Wrapping w second blanket around you or offering you his jacket.

It was small, but it meant something, to both of you.

Ghost eventually stopped letting you come with him into the wastes. After you got hurt badly, needing a tetanus shot they didn't have, Simon didn't let you go with him. He couldn't. Not because you were weak, you know why. He's just a big softy under all that muscle toned to harsh circumstance.

So you'd wait. By the window where you could see the gate, you'd wait until you could see him coming back. One night even passing out at the window when he returned, and he delivered you gently back to your bed, wrapping you in the blankets.

And after careful consideration, a gentle, small kiss on the forehead seared by the fabric of his mask.

Over the many months and then a year you lived with them you became family. You saw how they took care of each other. When Gaz got sick it was like bees back to the queen as they flurried to help him, and you did too.

He was weak, and you didn't want him to catch anything, so you would gently sit him up.

"Here Kyle, gentle."

Kyle winced in thank you as you fed him the soup Price had made.

You couldn't help but notice also how protective Simon was of them all. If Johnny didn't like the taste of the texture of something Price had made and would refuse to eat it, Simon would help.

"Johnny, you need to eat. Try and focus on me, not the texture. At least eat it." And Johnny usually would.

"Guys... I need to run outside really quickly, you think I could take one of you??" Kyle asked while Simon was already standing, grabbing his gun and escorting Kyle outside to watch over him.

Whenever Price was handing out assignments Simon would take the bulk of the work that had to do with being outside that gated fence. If there wasn't enough food for all of you Simon would cut back so you and Price would have enough.

He genuinely cares for all of you deeply under the mask.

The playful banter as you went out on scouting missions with him when you bugged him enough to let you go increased.

The affection he was willing to take and give like a hand on the shoulder or a hug. Sometimes even inviting you to wrap your arms around him and seek his warmth while laying under the cold stars in the sky.

Whispering to you on nights you couldn't sleep. He always took night watch, no exceptions. When you couldn't fall asleep he'd whisper to you. About random things. Maybe something he did the other day or what he remembered about the world before it went to shit and how beautiful it was.

"Simon..." you whispered back, holding onto his jacket. "I'm scared." You admit, tears filling your eyes as you thought of how you might die out here. This would be the end.

Simon brought you in a little tighter, resting his chin on top of your head. "I know y/n.... I know."

Simon was scared too. In his own way. Scared for himself, but scared for you, for his team. In the end Simon is a selfless creature and you all come before him.

Your breathing slowed, relaxing. Feeling safe and protected in his arms, because you were. Simon had you, he's always got you, and he always will.

Come zombies or raiders, or manic survivalists, anything. Simon won't let it hurt his team. He won't let them hurt you. Not you. He may not say it, but looking back, he's glad he met you that day in the woods...

I do hope this is satisfactory. I had started this a bit ago and came back to it after I posted my first zombie fic. Enjoy egg folk.

[drakeanddice]

Ahhhh! You played Laser-Ritter!? I'd love to hear how it went! Sorry, I don't often hear about folks playing my games.

We did! Short answer, it was awesome. I found Laser-Ritter following a game of Scum & Villainy with my weekly group which, while it was a fine game and was fun, had some tone/content confusion and failed to scratch the itch at the table. The game’s setting matter is largely pastiche of three to five different flavors of sci-fi and I, fool that I am didn’t drill down and sharpen the pitch…because I saw Forged in the Dark and assumed that it was shaving sharp right out of the box. Caveat lector, ersumshit.

But Laser-Ritter, damn. I cut myself thinking about how tight and focused that game is on delivering the promise on the front of the tin. You are fighting a galactic hegemony. Your life paths are all killer no filler calls to adventure from instantly iconic backgrounds. You wager your relationships and you kit and your tenuous, waning luck to do the impossible. You can deliver a snarky one liner as an active defense.

We ran a crew of loveable rogues on a tramp freighter transporting a broken auto soldier with memory banks full of Hegemony secrets related to a super weapon to wipe out the Rebellion. Their contact is cut out and they find themselves hunted at every turn by the forces of the Hegemony, first by a rogue’s gallery of bounty hunter types, and then an elite strike force led by Preceptor Ahriman Slake, the Red Right Hand of The Imperator. Diving for cover, going to ground amid the criminal underworld, and running out of options week by week, the Teknos wakes the Auto Soldier and downloads its memory banks during a climactic confrontation with Preceptor Slake and his goons. They broadcast the plans in the clear, trusting that the signal will bounce across the universe and if the right people can’t be told, then tell EVERYONE.

We called a season cliffhanger as the crew pushed the fateful button, the guns of the Hegemony leveled at them and haven’t been back to pick it up yet.

But we’re absolutely prison breaking at some point. Probably with the help of the defunct and broken Auto Soldier, Omni88, who remains at large.

It’s a damn fine game. Leverages a lot of player-facing tech and collaborative establishment of the fiction. Consensus building. Any game where I get to go, “Hell, yes. That’s cool!” is a win for me. And this one checks that box handily.

That being said, we ended up using an alternate hex flower lifepath system that was a little more targeted rather than the one out of the box, and we started with more advances that the rules according to Hoyle. We might’ve tweaked a couple of other systems to suit…I want to say combat was collapsed to Into the Odd style, except for big set pieces…this was a bit ago but I am left with pleasant memories and a mighty recommendation, which is really all I can offer a good game. It was, is, and will be again on my shortlist of “let’s do space opera” games. Notably, I will not play anything called Star Wars ever again.

[amypihcs]

Hello hello! end of the story! Watson left us with him freezing deer in headlights style reading of an attack to Holmes. Let's see how things went from then on!

Of course, actions start before brain starts processing. Holmes is hurt (my fault, i shouldn't've pulled that all nighter) i need to know what happe-

Holmes, of course would get home, idiot that he is

CAB! 221B BAKER STREET. NOW. RUN.

Watson must be worrying sick. He deserves a holiday! At least the doc assures no immediate danger. At least. Watson is allowed to see him (and if he wasn't he would've gone in all the same)

H: Don't be scared, Watson, i'm alright W: You are not-who hurt you. I'll murder that man with my bare hands H: My good Watson. Just stay with me? I'll tell you the plan. W: -kissing holmes- You need to rest. -hugging holmes-

Watson is just as scared and ready to murder for Holmes as Holmes is scared and ready to murder for Watson when he's hurt. O love these two. Well, plan's on.

Don't worry, with your help and my makeup cabinet we'll re-create that scene. I'm truly sorry i'm scaring you Watson.

Watson leaves to go give false information and so on, like getting kitty safe, and Holmes of course asks for something to smoke

I will keep granada Watson's answer for this. And then Watson will just return to Holmes asap and not move from there.

Things go on for that and Holmes recovers quite quickly, it would seem and they are of course plotting together or almost together. Holmes has his own plans, apparently. uuuhm

DAMNIT! is that bastard leaving?

Watson. there to be used?

Well, Watson knows to ask no explanation to Holmes and thaqt is far better to ask Mrs Hudson for the first pot of strong black coffee of the 24 hours.

Dr Watson gets back to be a uni student who has an exam and has not studied!

You would know, right, Watson? Bet this man is mistreating his back to study just like he used to do for particularly mnemonic exams in medicine. (I study biotech, i studied more or less this way for anatomy... yes, including drawing sketches to remember stuff better)

24 hours later, he's ready!

Holmes is OUT OF BED, Watson had told him to stay in there , but since he's out he can be teased and get a little kissy. You ready Watson? Very ready, Holmes. Let's go!

Relationship development! Watson CAN act, even if not that well! Now how to approach Gruner? Propose to sell him this!

And Watson makes the clever question, What price? He truly scintillates today! And Holmes has the answer for that since #victoriangenteman he can't put a price himself!

And so Watson get to the study and meets out murderer and

WATSON WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK???!! THIS IS NOT THE TIME TO BE BI ABOUT THE SUSPECT!! Jesus, this man.

Shall we go ON? They examine the ceramic and the baron starts being insulting.

AND THEN PROPOSES TO QUIZ WATSON. Watson is understandably furious, bet that itch to thrash the hide off gruner didn't go away and is STRONGER now. Fuckit. Cover jumped.

The baron is just giving Watson an occasion to beat him to a pulp, or he would be wasn't he grabbing a gun WAIT! NOISE!

HOLMES WHAT ARE YOU DOING THERE!?? YOU SHOULD BE HOME AND RE- A WOMAN? DAMNIT, THIS BASTARD IS WOUNDED!

Watson IS after all a very good doctor. And so he attends to that bastard of Gruner

Some doctoring Watson because it's always good to remember how clever this man is. Ah and it was Kitty! Good girl! Revenge against such a man. People arrive, including a policeman, of course

But Watson gets away quickly and gets back home where he asks Holmes WHAT THE HELL HE WAS GOING THERE??! Holmes confesses and they exchange info. Holmes got the book! And they give it to Sir James. It all works out (And Watson MIGHT have got the identity of the client, but SHHHH)

The aftermath is a broken engagement, Gruner quite... not at his best and will never be again. Damn, sulfuric acid is BAD. Kitty is unfortunately convicted, but she gets the lowest sentence possible, hoping she'll be out soon! Holmes gets ALMOST arrested for burglary but manages to get out clean (did also Mycroft put a good word?) and dragged by Watson in a nice vacation! To rest and recover!

[marzipanandminutiae]

Thank you so much for putting all my concerns about Beauty standards and cosmetic surgery into words! I'm still a teenager and the only girl my age that I know that doesn't wear makeup. This year my parents who are usually lovely and supportive gave me concealer and some wrinkle-preventing cream for Christmas and I really don't know how to feel about that lol. I'm sorry if this is a confusing mess. I guess what I'm here to ask is: How do I resist the urge to confirm? How do I fight this?

Oh dear. That is indeed rather a predicament, especially if (as it sounds) you don't have a group of like-minded friends to support you.

Also, to be clear, no woman or girl is better than her peers for not wearing makeup, not using anti-aging products, not getting plastic surgery, etc. My judgment lies solely on the pressure for us to do such things even if we don't want to, and on those who actively encourage that pressure.

(That being said...who the HELL gives a TEENAGER anti-aging products?! The only even tangentially anti-aging things one needs to use at that point in life- or any point, really! -are sunscreen and moisturizer, both of which have other primary functions. Namely, preventing skin cancer and uncomfortable dryness/itching/flaking/etc.)

Since you say your parents are normally supportive, I'd start by sitting down and having a calm talk with them. Say that you know they had good intentions, but that you'd prefer to avoid makeup and anti-aging products for now. Tell them that, while again you are sure this wasn't the intent, their gifts made you feel pushed to do something you don't want to. Hopefully this will open a dialogue about aforementioned intentions, beauty standards, and what makes you feel comfortable in your skin.

Beyond that, though, really all you can do is stick to your guns. I'm also a lifelong makeup-avoider, and unfortunately that pressure I mentioned never really goes away. But you can tune it out, in my experience, by finding forms of self-expression that speak to you and surrounding yourself with people who support your decision (even if it's not their own).

Beware, however, of T*RFS bearing ostensibly sensible messages about beauty standards, makeup culture, etc. Even a stopped clock is right twice a day, but that clock is full of transphobia and harshly prescriptive ideas about Correct Womanhood(TM).

[darksaiyangoku]

A Familiar Stranger

—New Lancaster City—

Noir: Peek-a-boo! Peek-a-boo!

Baby Marcus: *laughing*

Yang: Hehehe, awww. Marcus seems to like you. Usually, he cries around strangers.

Noir: That's because he recognises that I'm the best uncle. *smiles at Marcus* Isn't that right? Isn't that righf?

Baby Marcus: *spits up*

Noir: *recoils* Aw! Aw dude!

Yang: *stifles a laugh* Don't worry, I got it. *takes Marcus*

Sage: And I got this, here you go, best uncle, *hands Noir a towel*

Noir: Oh shut up, your majesty.

Blanc: Dinner will be ready in 5 minutes guys. Ruby, Jaune, can you set up the table?

Ruby: Aye, aye! *grabs the plates*

Jaune: Thanks for inviting us over, Blanc.

Blanc: No trouble, bro. Besides, this might be the only weekend we have before we get called on another mission.

Jaune: *sighs* You don't have to tell me twice. Ever since Weiss took over SHIELD, she's been more of a pain than James.

Ruby: Don't let her catch you saying that. She'll probably put itching powder in your boots again.

Sage: *nearly spits out drink* Oh I remember that! It was when you fought against Black Bolt! As soon as you beat him, you used his tuning helmet to scratch your feet.

Yang/Noir/Ruby/Blanc: *laughing*

Jaune: *sighs* Why do you guys always have to remember the remember the embarrassing stuff? It's never anything good, like when I beat Cardin, or when I won against Nora at arm wrestling or how I survived the Mandarin.

Ruby: Come on, sweetie. Lighten up, *hugs Jaune* We still love you. *kisses his cheek*

With the table finally set, the Arc and Ayana family sat down for dinner. Before Blanc could cut up the roasted pork, however, the lights began to flicker.

Yang: What's going on?

Baby Marcus: Mrrrr.

Ruby: It's probably nothing. Come on, Blanc, I'm starving.

Blanc: Easy now, *chuckles* that roast isn't going anywhere.

The flickering continued and became more intense. An ominous feeling filled the air and several car alarms started going wild. The noise was overwhelming and distressing Marcus, who let out a loud cry.

Yang: Hey, hey, hey shhhhhh *gently rocks Marcus*

Jaune: What the hell is going on here? *goes to the window*

Jaune peered out of the window to see what was happening. Suddenly, a bright flash of light appeared and all the lights in the apartment ceased function, scaring everyone. The crackling sound of electricity followed and from the light stumbled out a strange, humanoid figure. Jaune jumped back aghast.

Jaune: What the hell?

Noir: What is it, Jaune?

Jaune: Um... I'm not sure exactly, but it looks like we gotta investigate. Ruby, Noir, come with me. Blanc, you stay here with Yang and Sage.

The 3 of them headed outside, armed with their weapons. On the road, they got a better look at the figure. Whoever it was wore a pink bodysuit with a white lightning pattern, and white boots. Small sparks of white electricity surrounded it. Ruby pointed her gun directly at it, ready to shoot. Suddenly, its fingers began twitching and its eyes stirred awake.

Jaune: Hold your fire.

The person in pink struggled to stand up and tore its mask off. Jaune, Ruby and Noir stared at the person standing in front of them. It was a woman. She had short, orange hair, bright blue eyes and freckles.

Ruby: Nora? What are you doing here? Is everything okay on Asgard?

Nora stared back at the three people in front of her. She looked at everything around her, from the buildings, streets and even the lamps.

Jaune: Nora? Is everything okay?

Nora: *blinks twice* Who the hell are you guys?

[dgttwisted]

Whose your master?

twst an fate/ cross over

(twst icons brought to you by @psychicxhearts-blog1)

no one asked for this but me an my own brain so I'm making it!

warnings/triggers: blood, violence mentions of sex traffickers(don't worry they all die)

"Let rise a wall against the wind that shall fall. Let the four cardinal gates close.

Let the three-forked road from the crown reaching unto the Kingdom rotate.

Let it be declared now; your flesh shall serve under me, and my fate shall be with your sword."

Then the the use of either your blood or the blood of something else in the form of the circle after words the mana from the grail helps conjure a servant from the relic you have brought....at least that is how it is normally done.

"HAHAHA JADE LOOK LOOK LOOK!" Floyds voice shouts with flagrant excitement as he holds the wrist of a rather angry looking individual.

said man whips his hand out of Floyd's grasp rather easily "Oi! Who the hell are you? you the dumbass who summoned me!?"

Jade couldn't help but chuckle it would seem the grail chose someone a little to similar to his brother way to amusing for him "about time you summoned him Floyd, Azul was getting worried that you'd be left behind" he said with a smirk

Floyd only laughed as a response "he worries over nothing i told him it'd summon something when I'm in the mood an i did!"

"enough yapping!" voiced the man that the two of them could tell was a berserker "I'm itching for some killing when can i start!?"

"very eager hu? me to! hay i know where some of the lackeys are want to come play with me it'll be way more fun with more people!" Floyd practically skipped thinking of the carnage he was about to unfold.

berserker had a sharp toothed grin about him "now your speaking my language what are we waiting for" the berserker ran after his supposed master leaving Jade in the dust.

"i was going to tell them that we had to report to Azul ah well" so he said but he seemed to enjoy watching them leave with such glee on there faces.

"master" an appeared out of his spirit form bowing in front of Jade his long dark hair gliding across the tiles of the roof they stood upon as they watched Floyd an the berserker run onward "should i keep an eye on them?"

"that won't be necessary when Floyd's mood drops he'll be bursting threw the door asking for a snack an a nap" he says with all do confidences while Floyd isn't exactly predictable regardless of what he does during the night or day he always returns home.

-

"AHAHAHAA!" Floyd kicks the door to there hide out so fast it shatters in to splinters shredding threw out the entrance hall of the place they're invading. Berserker doesn't waste time an charges in killing anyone in his way. "hay no fair! getting a head start!" Floyd seemed to almost whine as he said that.

"you snooze you lose!" shouts the berserker as he started cutting down the enemy at breakneck speed.

Floyd eventually caught though he wasn't using a weapon just his barehand's he squeezed there necks or faces shattering them like glass. "hahaha! hay hay what number are you at lets keep score!"

"You Bastard!" one of the enemies shouted "we're under treaty you have the audacity to break in here a slaughter innocent men"

"hehe innocent? that's a funny way of referring to sex traffickers" the man grew still as Floyd spoke "Azul was yapping about it the other day while he lectured me using the treaty in the hopes we'd take are eyes off you long enough an you creeps started to kidnap kids?" Floyd points an laughs at him the man growing angry pulls a gun out to shoot.

in that second there was a sound in the air though not of gunfire but of slashing then of screaming. "AAAAH Y-YOU SON OF BITCH AAAHGGG"

Berserker picks at his ear watching the man writhe on the ground "quit your shouting all i did was cut off your arm" Berserker kicked him in the gut causing him to slide an smash into a wall.

"hehe you know i was gonna come in here an kill you anyway all you did was put more fuel to the fire! hay hay berserker what's your name?"

"are you some sort of dumbass? you were literally holding onto my book!" Berserker shouts at him

"oh that thing i was just reading it to pass the time" he said with a carefree smile

"Edward Hyde!" Berserker shouts "don't you go forgetting now you got that!"

"Pufferfish!" Floyd says with glee as he steps on the bosses head intent on crushing it.

"you deaf or somethen! i said Hyde!"

"your so silly pufferfish!"

"Hyde!!!"

as they argued a shot was fired grazing Hyde's cheek "you're gonna regret that!" Hyde charged soon followed by Floyd after all he wanted to to tally there kill score by the end of this night.

-

that next morning was met with 4 hour lecture from Azul to Floyd an his new servant on how it may have seemed like a good idea at the time but charging in an making a mock of things is gonna suck for them in the long run.

"we killed all the witnesses what's the big deal?" Hyde said yawning

"That is not the issue here you were only just summoned what if a mage or someone from the church saw you!" Azul argued

"but they didn't! i didn't sense any familiars while we were having fun" Floyd said with a lazy smile clearly used to being scolded.

"annoying this is a pain I'm letting you deal with this boring stuff!" before Azul could ask who he meant Hyde's hair seemed to soften an fall flatter his eyes turned from red to green an his teeth became much less sharp "ah~" a noise that no one could imagine berserker to make the sigh sounded to soft for him "he always does this if he doesn't want to deal with something tedious he drops it on me what a troublesome fellow though i guess it's my fault he's like that i am the one who made him after all"

Jade's servant came out from hiding "that's impossible"

the man got up off his knees from where he was sitting wiping them off "oh Assassin? ah i guess this does feel a little confusing to you after all my normal rules there should only be one Assassin per team but you see Hyde an i are a special case" he said with a polite smile "sense Hyde so carelessly introduced himself it would only be polite of me to do the same Master, associate's of my master an fellow servants it's a pleasure to make your acquaintance i am Dr. Henry Jekyll"

after the room collectively picked there jaws off the floor they started asking questions.

"how come pufferfish turned into nurse shark?" Jekyll points at himself "funny way or referring to others you're calling me nurse shark master?"

"who else would i be talking about" Floyd pouts "where did pufferfish go?"

that caused a small chuckle to leave Jekyll's lips "not to worry master 'pufferfish' is still here with us he's just taking a back seat while i'm in control" a voice that only Jekyll can hear rings out in his head 'You think this is fucking funny! why do you get to have the cool nickname! that's not fair!!!'

Assassin spoke next "a duo servant? is that a thing?"

"i asked the counterforce the same thing but it assured me that it's not a unusual occurrence though rare very similar servants like myself are a thing though usually they are two separate people instead of one servant but considering my tale you could imagine why we can't exactly be separate can we?" Jekyll walks over to the table jade was sitting by "may i?" Jade nods an Jekyll sits across from him

"in this form you can hide your presence like Assassin but you have the strength of berserker" Azul grinned in a way that could be clearly read as 'we can use this'

"what an interesting team I'm apart of where are the other Master's an servants on this team of ours?" Jekyll asks rather curious as he started to make himself some tea.

"on patrol my caster is with them you'll meet them later this evening" Azul said now sitting back at his desk looking over his paperwork "you're free to go this time Floyd"

Floyd jumped up "haaaaay nurse shark lets play something fun come on" Jekyll looked at him quizzically "you were up all night surely your tired no shouldn't be resting?"

"I'm not in the mood for sleep" he was leaning hard on Jekyll's shoulders though Jekyll didn't budge from his spot "commmeee onnnnn Nurse shark play with me"

"Only after you get some rest not getting any sleep is bad for your mental an physical health" he simply said taking a sip of his tea an putting it on the table "i would have never thought to put truffle oil in tea very unique flavor" Jade smiled at that remark

"so if i got to sleep you'll play with me when i wake up?" he asked his arms flopped on Henry's chest Floyd pressing his cheek against a rather chill heroic spirit considering his circumstances. Jekyll took a deep breath before giving the answer he knew would make his master the happiest "yes"

what he did not anticipate was being lifted into the air an into his arms by said master. "hehe then lets take a nap!" Floyd now holding the heroic spirit bridal style down the a hall "Master this is unnecessary as a servant i can go into spirit form i do not require sleep like you-"

"whose your master!?" he says pouting again at him Henry could only aquite his attuid to a spoiled cat "you are but-"

"then i say we take the biggest nap together an we play a hole bunch when i wake up by then everyone else will be back an we will have way more friends to play with!" he could argue but his master seems much to happy about this so he won't crush his dreams besides one nap won't hurt will it?

To be Continued~ ?

[gregorygerwitz]

Hurt/Comfort prompts: number 13 (“you’re safe, I promise.”) for scream au.

I love this idea so much btw I already feel unhinged about it ❤️

13. "You're safe, I promise."

He wasn't shaking anymore. That was probably a good sign. But it was hard to focus on the good when there was still blood on his hands, barely dried under his nails, where he could feel it everywhere it coated his skin. It made him want to itch until it was all gone, until he was finally clean again, but that seemed impossible. There was too much of it, too many things he couldn't forget about, things that appeared whenever he closed his eyes long enough to blink.

Greg would have scars, he knew that, but that seemed like nothing in comparison to everything else he'd seen. There had been too many bodies. Jay had gotten stabbed in the side. Hailey had gotten a bullet in the leg. They were the survivors, the ones who made it out, but how long would that actually last?

The sound of the door opening across the room was enough to make him flinch, and he flexed his fingers as if the gun was still there. Then the trembling started again, the shaking of his fingers, and he tried to grab the edge of the table to make it stop. He'd been at the hospital for a grand total of twenty minutes, refusing to let anyone bandage him up or even help him get the blood off his hands. The last thing he'd wanted was to have so many people touching him, even if they were just trying to help. He'd had more than enough of that for one night.

But denying care and not having the same life threatening wounds as his friends meant he had been taken to a different building instead, and put in a police interrogation room. There hadn't been the chance to give a statement at the house, not in all of the chaos of it and the ambulances rolling up, and he had been reassured countless times that he wasn't being questioned and he wasn't a suspect in anything. It was just a safe, quiet room, and he'd appreciated it when that was all it was.

As soon as he wasn't alone, it wasn't exactly quiet anymore.

"I'll try to make this as quick as I can, kiddo." The voice was practically familiar, and he didn't have to lift his head to know that he would see the face of the officer who had first breached the bathroom door. She seemed nice, but that night had already taught him that the uniform didn't necessarily mean safety. "I'm sure you want to get back to the hospital to check on your friends, hmm? You've already been through enough tonight, and the last thing we want to do is keep dragging this out."

Greg kept his head down and didn't even try to say a word. He didn't want to. Words hadn't helped him all night, and they weren't going to help him there. Words wouldn't bring back any of his dead friends, and they wouldn't help Jay and Hailey. They wouldn't erase the entire night like he wished he could. So, he didn't even try to find them, staring at the surface of the table.

"Can you tell me about what happened tonight, Gregory?"

He blinked but kept his eyes down, staying silent while time dragged on. It felt like an hour, but it was probably only a few minutes, potentially even less.

"Hey..."

The gentle tone made him blink again, finally looking up. His expression was kept carefully neutral, almost blank, or as close as he could make it. But a careful mask couldn't hide everything, apparently. Something must have alerted her to the emotions rolling in his gut, the terror that hadn't quite subsided, the worry he still felt, the fear that something could still happen even if everyone was acting like it was over. One uniformed officer had already robbed him of his sense of safety that night, and he was more than hesitant to trust another one.

"You don't have to give a statement right now. You've had a hard enough night, and you should take the time you need to process all of this. Whenever you're comfortable, just come in or give us a call, alright? We can get other statements from your friends, and we caught the people who did this on the scene - red handed just isn't a phrase we usually use so literally. They can't do anything else to you, Greg."

Catching his tongue between his teeth, he made himself nod. It was the best response he could give, his voice still stuck somewhere below his throat. They weren't caught there. They didn't even exist.

"I know you've had a very frightening night, but it's over now. You're safe, I promise."

[ hurt/comfort prompts ]

[the-white-soul]

*Flowey looks at the souls everyone is being offered with wide eyes. He’s practically shaking with excitement. When would be the next time he gets an opportunity like this? Why doesn’t he just take all of the rest? It’d be quick. No one would be able to stop him. His vines are itching to grab everything for himself and let himself go mayhem. He reaches forth slowly, almost mesmerized, and…*

*Takes a single red soul.*

*He’s squeezing it tightly like a stress ball, seeming to be in disbelief. It’s not disappearing in his clutch or anything. And there’s no cache. Flowey absorbs it readily.* Really? This is mine? This… this is amazing.

*He suppresses his form to stay exactly the same once he takes it, hiding his power completely.* Heeheehee! We wouldn’t want those meanies to suspect us now, do we? We need to appear casual and then hit them with surprise. Of course only if they attack us first, yeah, yeah. Then Noelle’s Snowgrave can be used specially for our buddy Clover!

*He chuckles and taunts Noelle a bit condescendingly.* It’s okay, you don’t have to do any more than that. Just sit back and let your abilities charge while the others do everything else. Poor Noelle, only able to fire one attack before she’s done… Golly, really makes me wonder where all that high talk comes from!

Heh… anyway, these souls don’t have consciousnesses, do they? I don’t need anyone talking to me in my head or fighting back, and I’m sure no one else wants that either.

(Kara) "Oh thankfully not. They can rebel if mistreated unless you have seven which is why being a god is more important than just getting 6 souls but if they're used correctly they'll be fine. Anyways let's go to the sur... wait how are we going to get up there. Lesser dog is dead."

(Mo) "Ya think that's the only way I've invented a new invention..."

(Noelle) "Why are you repeating yourself?"

(Mo) "I can tell your little police girl here is the type of the grammar. You want true new things look at my new invention I call it two sticks and 100 bars. Or as my friends call it 200 bars."

(Noelle) "That's litteraly a ladder."

(Mo) "And for yer kind, I'll be generous. 8000 g."

(Papyrus) "But I'm the king shouldn't I get..."

(Mo) "You're right. I forgot to add king taxes 90000 g."

(Undyne) "*Has a spear to his throat* Listen either I get it now or I take it by force."

(Mo) "Really, threats don't work on me. Well except the time old Cloves went ahead and robbed me for no reason. This is just my way to get back to the top. To be a big shot."

(Kara) "Fine we'll take it *Gives the g's* but only because you came up with the excellent idea to put guns in pies."

(Mo) "Great here you go. Mo out."

*He runs up and out of sight*

(Kara) "Why is he so cool?"

(Noelle) "Let's just get to the ladder."

(Kara) "Oh right everyone up one by one."

*Meanwhile at the omega dimension*

(Layer)"I hope they're having a good time."

(Arak) "Yes they will, won't they? They'll win the day and prove me right."

(Layer) "What?"

(Arak) "Some people are beyond saving. By the time they slaughter Clover while Clover is evil I'll go down there and kill all of them."

(Layer) "Not if I..."

Arak punches them in the face 15 times. Layer can't feel pain so it doesn't bother them as a player but as there character grew weak they could feel they have less and less control.

(Arak) "You know what I've got a better idea, if they prove me right I'll punch you until you disconnect. If they do redeem Clover I'll personally apologize."

[the-firebird69]

There's a huge movement here going on and it seems to be having a lot of fun with our friend here shouldn't smells and certain things they keep having them do itches and bugs attacking him constant threats huge amounts of poison I'm basically sick of it yes use power to survive and to get through the day. And finally on the contract a word and he did say that about the timing and about the second week or so and we are looking at and it's true so not to b******* about that but nothing happens around here and he says the whole state is like that and the roofs are all off even in public buildings and nobody's doing anything about it that's why I'm b******* because they're running the government and it's Jason and cheesman and others here and they decide not to do anything and they don't do anything in the company sweep take or taking over so we're going to take over the state it's a disaster my friend can't get anything not an extra penny for any reason they try and build them for trying it's just disgusting they're so stupid these assholes reveal what's going on every few minutes and man they're not right okay they're IQs around 70 most people are at 1:30 or 120 all right that's like half think about all the stuff they don't know in half and he's way up there at the old scale 190 200 he says it's easily the highest because no one else thinks of stuff he does and we get that but I guess he's I guess I'm riding away he can't act proficiently you know doing some mathematics and there's so many people blocking him it's ridiculous if he breaks free from us and he says well describe break Free satellite still watching I got that too it's impossible somebody want people watching you just completely ignores everyone and then this idiot starts doing it ridiculous the guys are fool he thinks he's going to take his body over because he's successful and all this jackass s*** I got to tell you something if I hear one more of these retards say they're going to do that I'm going to I'm going to gun him down right in public I don't want to hear this stupid s*** from them so I'm putting orders out there it's dress and it's all day and all night and he's under it and constantly in this a****** spent all night trying to have not do his medicinal treatment and have had it I've had it with him he's a useless puke yeah that's funny business going on but you guys have The fleets over there and you're destroying each other so what's the big deal that's stupid it's just trying to implicate me by going backwards I'm going forwards and starting to take over your fleets now you can screw each other big time

Mac

[assortedfruitsnacks212]

Dear fans of "problematic" characters, ships, and media,

I want you to listen to me very carefully. I've been thinking about this for a while, and it's time I said it out loud.

Hiding your preferences in fiction will not protect you forever. I repeat, hiding your preferences in fiction will not protect you forever.

Here's what happens instead. You get smaller. And because you get smaller, antis rush in to claim what should've been your space and get louder. It's intimidating, so you get even smaller to escape them. Then they claim the space that should've been yours and get louder. And louder. Repeat ad nauseam until you're shoved into a corner so small you can hardly breathe. And you can't live that way, so eventually you leave fandom. Cue the antis laughing and celebrating because that's exactly what they wanted: they've driven you out.

Now, that should be the end of it, right? Except it isn't. Fandom isn't a separate universe from the real world. You might feel like it is, but the two are intimately linked. It's no coincidence anti rhetoric has overrun western fandom at the same time that we're seeing a resurgence in conservative, reactionary politics.

The goal is the same across the board. They want to control every part of your life. If that fails, they'll settle for outright eliminating you. That's why antis are so startlingly casual about sending death threats. It's also why radical conservatives stockpile guns and fantasize about the day they get to use them. It's the same damn attitude, the same intolerance for anyone who thinks differently than them.

(What a tragedy that so many antis are some flavor of queer. They're parroting people who, in the real world, are itching to eliminate them too.)

If we don't get in the habit of pushing back, things are only going to get worse for "freaks" and "weirdos" like us. So I'm begging you to start building those push-back muscles. Draw a boundary, even if it's invisible to everyone but you, and plant your feet there. Tell yourself, "No, they don't get to chase me out any further than this." Then, as you get more comfortable, take your space back one step at a time.

It's okay if you have to start small. In fact, I encourage it. Think of the tiniest baby step you can take and do that.

Send an anon to a blog that's pro-problematic media (a great way to start voicing your opinions safely).

Create a sideblog that's totally separate from your main.

Turn off anons on your blog(s).

Hide your likes and the list of blogs you follow.

Message people privately who share your interests. If you feel a good vibe, keep the conversation going until you can call them friends.

Join a Discord server for your "problematic interest."

Block antis the second you see them.

Slowly, piece by piece, build a little community that supports you.

And then, when it feels right, start stretching your limits.

Send an ask without turning on anon.

Reblog a "problematic" post on your main.

Re-enable anons on your own blog (only if you want to - personally, I have no desire to do that yet, but I'm getting there).

And so on and so forth :)

Take it as slow as you need to, lean hard on your trusted friends, and don't be ashamed if it gets too stressful and you have to back off for a while. Dealing with anti bullshit is fkn hard.

And of course, always prioritize your health and safety. I would never tell a queer teenager to come out if they're still living with their abusive, homophobic family. Same with a "problematic" fan who's surrounded by antis!

Just remember, there are many more people like you than you might suspect. Both in fandom and out of it.

[dailyadventureprompts]

Why is every time I get interested in a genre I find out it’s built on a bunch of horrible stuff ? Now I have to find something besides westerns & scrap those ideas. What about if the frontier was only formerly inhabited, any previous peoples long dead by the time the frontier gets there & have it where people are trying to figure out why they all died ? That’s probably not any better, just bad in a different way though isn’t it ? Thanks anyway for answering

Heavy Topics: History is Written in Blood

Friend, let me share a lesson that you pick up very early on if you end up studying the humanities: As long as there have been humans, everything we have accomplished has been built on a scaffolding of exploitation and atrocity, meaning that there is nothing we can conceive of that is not in some way informed by one tragedy or another.

The reason I bring up these harsh realities in the context of d&d is because I want to tell stories that highlight the very real evils of the world and show how they can be overcome, how they come to be in the first place, and how our losses in the pursuit of a better world carry some meaning in the face of what seems like an insurmountable task.

Likewise, when I write things like Heavy Topics or Monsters Reimagined. It's because I want to pinpoint what I think is a harmful idea that has slipped in under the radar of gamers and creatives alike. In my time around the table I've met one too many people who want games where they're allowed to slaughter goblins wholesale, only to later develop some pretty yikes opinions when topics like immigration, poverty, or gender came up. I'm not saying that d&d is inherently xenophobic, but that the veneer of fantasy gives people with xenophobic beliefs a space where they're able to scratch their hateful itch by contriving scenarios in which they're the good guys. People being assholes "because its what my character would do" are just assholes that have found themselves an excuse, the same way people who are misogynistic or rapey "for historical accuracy" are just creeps that think they've found a place. If you'd like an example take a look at the ongoing saga of the conservative who keeps asking me to give him an excuse to beat up antifa.

To return to the topic of Westerns: I don't blame anyone for wanting to strap on some six guns, spurred boots, and a bad accent while having themselves a good time. Westerns are fun and corny and at times poignant, and they make a useful creative springboard when building a new setting. That said, the key to being able to enjoy anything historical or historically inspired is to be very open about who the bad guys were, and not paint their abuses as justified.

You could for instance, have a setting deeply inspired by the pre-war south, provided you made sure to paint the analogs for the antebellum gentry as villains (ignorant or otherwise) for their perpetuation of the monstrous institution of slavery. What you should NOT do is create a fantasy-analog slave race that deserves to be chattel because of its own savage inferiority, and have your party as heroic slavecatchers that go around defending the white race civilization.

Plan your western, my friend. Make it as gritty and absurdly bombastic as you think your players can tolerate. Just make sure to focus the camera on the real goodguys; the poor, the desperate, the wronged, and the compassionate. Give your world the scars it deserves, the cruelties and atrocities that parallel our own tragedies, so when your players prevent the next massacre or injustice they can fight back against the hopelessness in their own lives.

That's why we tell stories about heroes after all, to imagine a world and a future where we don't make the same mistakes as our past.

Art

[anythingwriter]

Vipers

Tommy Shelby x reader

Warnings: language, men being sexest, brief mention of death, a little bit of a slow burn

Word Count: 3,900 of pure trash:)

Requested by: @imthebadguyyy

Summary: Thomas Shelby has been expanding his business for years, making deals with other gangs all the time. But the Vipers, they were a different story. They’re crazy and dangerous, and they are not willing to share their land, so Tommy sets up a meeting with their leader. It was not who he expected.

a/n: Dudley is a city in England kind of close to Birmingham, just so y’all know.

*******************************************************

Polly was minding her business, walking around the shop straightening up here and there. It was just her and Esme at the moment, the betting shop had not yet opened. There was supposed to be a family meeting in about ten minutes, but by the looks of it Tommy was going to be late as perusal.

Ada had just walked in, shortly followed by John and Arthur. Finn stayed with Isaiah, Tommy had told him not to come because it was an “adult” meeting. They all sat around, conversing and just having small talk and after twenty minutes of waiting for Tommy, Polly was fed up.

“Where the bloody hell is that brother of yours?”

John and Arthur looked at eachother wearily, should they tell her?

Their looks didn’t go unnoticed by any of the women. Ada was getting frustrated too, Tommy called the damn meeting so where the hell was he?

“C’mon boys, Polly and I want to know.”

Arthur sighed, rubbing a hand down his face and itching his mustache, “so you see ladies, he-”

Arthur was interrupted by the door to the shop slamming open and banging against the wall, Tommy coming in with literal blood on his hands.

“What the fuck Thomas? Where in the bloody hell have you been? An- and is that blood?! Christ Tommy!” Polly was so confused, her nephew came into his own meeting late, with blood on his hands?

Tommy ignored his aunts questions and walked around the table, lit a cigarette and poured himself a glass of whiskey, Irish of course. He grabbed a cloth and began to wipe the blood off of his hands, all while being silent. Everyone else had grown quiet too, waiting for Tommy to speak, or at least acknowledge them.

He drank his whiskey in one gulp and poured another. He then finally looked up at his family, now clean from the blood on his hands. Well, at least the blood that you could see.

“I’ve been trying to make new...acquaintances you could say,” he took a long drag of his cig, “and people were not happy about it.”

The three women looked at Tommy, waiting for him to explain more. John and Arthur already knew everything, they were just sitting there, waiting for their aunt's reaction to what Tommys was about to say. He quickly drank his second glass. Polly copied his actions, bringing her drink to her lips as well.

“As you all know, our business is expanding everyday. We’ve already reached London, and now, now I’m trying to get to Dudley.”

Ada's eyes widened and Esme immediately got up to leave. Polly began to ferociously cough on her drink, not expecting to hear such news. Arthur leaned over in his seat and aggressively started to smack his aunt’s back, trying to help ease her drink down. Tommy sat there just watching everything with a stoic face.

Polly began to swat at Arthurs hands, and he pulled them back raised in the air defensively, not wanting to get hit by his aunt.

She rose from her seat, a look of disbelief on her face and pointed her manicured finger in Tommy's face, “Are you MAD Thomas?! You have no business being on their land! Now you've done dragged us all into this! Thomas, what in the blo-”

“Hear me out Pol, I’ve al-” Polly cut him off like he did her, she was furious. He was going to get them all killed!

“No Thomas, you listen to me. You go on their land and expect to make a peace treaty with them? They’re so good at what they do no one’s ever seen their faces Tom! Just you wait, this is all going to come back and bite you in your ass!” Polly stormed out of the shop and into their house, slamming the doors behind her.

They all sat in silence for a few seconds before John decided to break it, “well, that went better than I thought it would.” Arthur snorted at that, raising his drink to cover the sound.

“Whose blood was on your hands, Tommy?” For the first time the whole meeting, Ada had finally spoken.

“Some man came up to me and told me to leave, saying they didn’t want the devil to walk among their streets. He pulled a knife on me, so I shot him. Simple as that.”

“Simple as that? Simple as that Tommy? You’ve shot one of her men! This is war now Tommy.”

Arthur looked up from his drink and made eye contact with Ada, “Her? Who in the bloody hell said anything about it being a woman, Ada? You really think the leader of The Vipers is a woman?”

“Haven’t you lot heard? There's been rumors for months about the WHOLE gang being run by women.”

John and Arthur both barked out laughter, women? Why would women be running a gang, let alone one as dangerous as The Vipers.

Ada’s face turned red, cursing her sexest brothers. Stupid men and their cocks.

Tommy sat there reclined in his seat, lost in his own thought. It couldn’t be women, could it?

His sister stood up from her seat, yelling at her brothers before leaving the room in the same fashion Polly had, even slamming the door a little harder.

Arthur smacked his hand against the table, breaking Tommy out of his trance. Him and John were still laughing their asses off.

“Women? Can you bloody believe that Tom? A bloody woman!” John doubled back over in laughter again at Arthurs words. Tommy still just sat there, watching his brothers laugh. He got up to leave the shop, heading to London to see a certain Solomons.

*******************************************************

“Tommy, what can I do for you mate?” Alfie was loud, as usual.

Tommy sat in front of Alfie, preparing himself for the conversation ahead of him. “There’s word going around, Alfie, that you are the only ally of The Vipers, is that true?”

Alfie stared blankly ahead of himself before letting out a loud boisterous laugh that had Ollie wincing in the corner. He looked at Tommy and immediately stopped when he saw Tommy was serious.

“Oh, oh you’re serious?” What business could you possibly want with The Vipers Tommy?”

“Is that a yes or no, Alfie? Are you allies with them?”

Alfie eyeballed Tommy before sighing and nodding his head. Tommy smirked at his small victory. “I’m wanting to do business with him, Alfie. I want to expand and put some of my men in Dudley. But, I need help. I’ve heard they’re unpredictable, especially their leader. Would you care to tell me his name, Alf?”

Again, Alfie laughed. He stood up with the help of his cane and leaned on his large desk closer to Tommy, “right, there's two things you need to know Tom. First of all, they are unpredictable and they wouldn’t hesitate to bite your head off if you backstabbed them, yeah.” He paused for a second, debating if he should tell Tommy the second part.

Tommy nodded, waiting for Alfie to continue, but he didn’t.

“What’s the second thing?”

Alfie just smirked down at the brummie, “That's for me to know and for you to find out.”

*******************************************************

Three days later it was Friday evening and Tommy had invited everyone for a family dinner, it was all Polly’s idea. They were all gathered around the unnecessary large dining table at Arrow house. Charlie sat next to Tommy, Esme and John were next to each other, their hundreds of kids all at home with a sitter, along with Karl. Polly and Ada were sat side by side and Arthur was in the corner of the room pouring himself a drink. It was getting late, everyone had already ate their dinner and dessert.

“Mary, could you take Charlie up to bed? It’s getting late.”

She quickly walked around the table nodding her head, “Yes, Mr.Shelby.”

Everyone had migrated to the living room now, for once not talking about business. Their laughing was interrupted when there was a knock on the door, they all stood up.

“Who could that possibly be this late at night?” The loud knock had put all of them on edge.

The men all drew their guns, walking to the door, telling the woman to stay put. Naturally none of them listened and they all followed behind the boys.

Tommy swung the door open with his gun pointed out, ready to shoot whoever was there. They were all confused when they didn’t see anybody, but they were even more confused when they looked down to see a box with Tommy’s name on it.

Polly smacked Tommy on the back of his head, “Don't just stand there you idiot, bring the box in!” She reached down and grabbed the box, bringing it in and sitting it on the living room table.

John was a little hesitant, why was there a box? Who had dropped it off?

Tommy inspected the box, it didn’t seem harmful, but that didn’t stop his nerves. He wouldn’t admit it to anyone, but he was a little freaked out at the package too. He slowly reached for the box and ever so slowly opened it.

“BLOODY HELL!”

“WHAT THE FUCK?!”

“TOMMY I-”

“WHAT IN THE HELL IS THAT?!”

Everyone was screaming and panicking, Tommy had jumped back and almost tripped over his feet, the women had all run to the next room and the men had drawn their guns once again.

Lunging out of the box was a bright green fluorescent Viper, hungry for blood. It striked again, almost catching Esme by the arm as she ran by it. It slithered out the box, its fangs out waiting to catch someone. Arthur began shooting at the floor, steadily putting holes in it. Tommy had finally stood back up, and John reached for Esme to check her for injuries. Arthur kept shooting, still putting bullet holes in Tommy's wooden floors.

A loud bang echoed through the house, and it wasn’t Arthur because he had run out of ammo. There stood Ada with a small revolver in her had, and a bullet lodged in the snakes head. Everyone stopped to stare at her, eyes wide in shock.

“Guess chasing rats finally paid off, huh?”

Polly had walked back in the room and bent down to inspect the green snake before standing up to look Tommy in the eyes.

John hugged Esme to his chest and turned towards his brother, “What in the bloody hell is this Tom?”

Tommy looked at John blankly, he himself didn’t even know. He went to make something up but Pol had beaten him to it.

“This, John,” she reached down and picked up the dead but still squirming snake, “is what you call a Viper.” And with that she flung the snake at Tommy who jumped back in disgust.

Adas head perked up at that, “A viper? But how, they're not native.”

Everyone thought about it a moment, before they put the pieces together. Polly began to laugh maniacally and everyone averted their gaze to her, had she gone mad?

“I told you Thomas! I told you this was going to come back and bite you in your ass!”

Tommy sighed and ran a hand down his sweating face before peering in the box again. Inside was a note and he reached in to grab it and he read it aloud, “Stay off our land Shelby.”

Everyone began to fret again. They were running around like a chicken that got its head cut off, screaming about how Tommy never should have stepped foot in Dudley.

Tommy sat down on his couch, thinking about what to do. What if Charlie had been downstairs? The snake surely would have gotten to him, after all he is just a child. He needed a smoke and a drink as soon as possible, he stood up and marched up to his office to make a phone call, completely ignoring his family's calls of his name

*******************************************************

Two weeks after the snake incident, Tommy had managed to get a meeting with you, thanks to the one and only Alfie Solomons. When Tommy had told him what had happened that night he shook his head and chucked, telling Tommy you had done the same thing to him all those years ago. But Tommy still didn’t know who you were.

The three eldest Shelby’s stepped out of Tommy's car and landed on the Dudely turf, they all felt a little uneasy about the situation. They began to follow the directions Alfie had given them, the area getting more and more sketchier as they went.

Dudley was very dull, the sky was always grey and the streets were always muddy. The air was foggy like Birmingham, maybe even worse. They were getting looks everywhere they turned, none of them being used to it considering their name.

A loud clang of metal caught their attention and they all turned to look. All three of them pulled their guns when they saw a scruffy man charging them with a knife. Right when Arthur was about to pull the trigger, they all four stopped when someone yell.

Another man came running towards them, screaming at the man that was attacking them.

“Stop Marc! They’re here because Yilan has agreed to meet with them!”

The man stopped what he was doing immediately, turning as pale as a ghost and dropped his weapon to the ground. He turned back around to the Shleby’s and apologized profusely before running off.

The three brothers looked at each other in confusion.

“What the fuck was that about? Who the hell is Yilan?” John was asking too many questions and Tommy didn’t have the answers to them.

“I don’t fucking know John, now shut the hell up!”

(a/n: Yilan means snake in Turkish [which is my family’s native language])

The man who had stopped the other walked up to the brothers.

“I am sorry, sirs. Yilan is what we call the leader of the Vipers.”

Tommy nodded a thanks to the man, asking him if he could take them to their headquarters. The man reluctantly agreed, not wanting to get on anyones bad side.

After around twenty more minutes of walking they stopped in front of a worn down brick building. It had vines growing up the whole thing and two very, very large men were guarding the door. Their escort had scurried off as soon as they got there, Tommy not even being able to thank the man.

The brothers began to walk towards the door and Arthur leaned down to whisper, “Ha, and Ada said they were run by women!”

John chuckled, he couldn’t wait to tell Ada she was wrong. Tommy hushed the two before speaking to the men guarding the door.

They both stared at the brothers, almost as if they were staring into their souls. They didn’t speak, waiting for one of the others to.

Tommy cleared his throat, “We’re here to see your boss. We have a meeting, Thomas Shelby.”

The larger out of the two opened the door, “Third floor straight down the hallway.” Tommy nodded his head before heading in, the two brothers following his lead.

The inside of the building was loud with music and the walls were all painted bright green. Tommy guessed for a viper. They all walked in a little further and stopped in their tracks, shock registering through their veins.

There was not one man inside. The room was full of women from every race you could imagine. Some had a tattoo here and there, some were covered in them. There was women with red curly hair, others with black straight. Any type of woman you could imagine, from short to tall and thin to curvy, was there. And they were all staring at them.

Arthur gulped and John smirked but then quickly frowned when he realised that his sister was right, this whole gang was women. He did have to admit though, it was a little sexy, even though he knew half of them could probably kick his ass.

Tommy cleared his throat before walking ahead, not making eye contact with any of the women. He walked towards the stairs and climbed them until he got to the third floor and walked straight down the hallway. When they reached the door Tommy hesitated for a moment before knocking. A faint “come in” was heard, and they all walked in.

Sitting behind a large oak desk was you, relaxing in your chair with a wicked smile on your face. You were so ready to finally meet the man who wanted your land.

Not making any effort to sit up in a more presentable position, you gestured to the three chairs in front of you, telling them to take a seat.

Tommy and John did but Arthur was still hesitant. What had they walked into?

“No offense ma’am, I think I would rather stand,” he was fidgeting the whole time and you could smell his nervousness. Tommy looked up and glared at his older brother.

You leaned forward in your chair and rested your arms on your desk and sat your chin on your hands. “Please, Arthur, take a seat before I shoot both your knee caps and make you sit.” You pulled a gun and sat it on your desk, smiling up at Arthur.

John was a nervous wreck and Arthur visibly gulped and sat down with shaky legs. Tommy kept staring at you though, he thought you were beautiful, but psycho. You intrigued him.

You leaned back in your chair again, leaving the gun on the desk. “Mr.Shelby, I do really hope you enjoyed my gift the other day. Alfie told me it brought… excitement to your family.”

God you were definitely psycho.

Tommy cleared his throat, “Ms.Yilan I-”

You sat back up again, “No no no, Mr.Shelby, that is not my name. Please, call me y/n.”

For a brief moment there, you almost seemed normal. It scared the brothers how easily your emotions changed.

“Right, okay. Let's not even talk about that, okay? Let's just get straight to business. And please, call me Tommy”

“I like the way you think, Tommy.”

And boy did you like the way he looked too.

“First of all Tommy, I do NOT like you coming on to MY land and shooting MY people.” You were getting angry, your eyes were ablaze and your jaw was clenched.

“That man you shot, Tommy, had a family. He had a wife and two daughters, and now I have to spend MY money on them because YOU shot their caretaker. I could be doing so much more with that money.”

Tommy was taken aback with your forwardness, those were not the words he was expecting to hear.

“He charged me with a knife, it was self de-”

“Nonsense Tommy! You could have simply knocked him out, anything but shoot him! He was an innocent man Thomas!”

Tommy sighed, he knew there was no winning this. “You’re right, and I apologize for my mistake.”

John and Arthur looked at each other with wide eyes, Tommy apologized?

“Thank you, but your apology is not accepted, but I do believe we're even.”

Tommy’s brows furrowed, even? How were you even?

This caught Johns interest too, “Even? How do you mean?”

You smirked at all of them and they became concerned, what had you done?

“On your way here, hope you all had a nice trip by the way, I sent two of my women to your town. I told them to do exactly as you did, but add some Viper charm to it. They took my beloved snake Ebony with them, and they allowed her to pick an innocent man, like you had.”

Tommy was definitely confused now, where was this going?

“She did amazing, really. She struck an innocent man in the streets. And I would say that right about now,” you checked your watch, “her venom is kicking in, and he is dying a slow and painful death.” You looked up at the three, flashing them an innocent smile.

“You fucking crazy bitch! What the bloody hell is wrong with you?!” Arthur lunged for you across your desk, Tommy and John trying to stop him.

He grabbed your gun that you left on the table and pointed it straight to your face. All you did was smirk at him.

Tommy pleadingly begged Arthur to put the gun down, but you held up your hand to stop him. He looked at you like you were crazy. Which to be fair, you were.

“Go on Arthur,” you pressed your head closer to the barrel, “I know you want to. Why don’t you pull it, huh? Do the world a favor and get rid of a crazy bitch like me.”

Arthur stared in your eyes, looking for any sign of fear. He found none. He thought about it for a moment, should he do it? After all, the world would be a better place.

He smiled, and pulled the trigger.

But nothing happened, his smile fell when he heard you laughing. He opened the barrel to the gun and found that there were no bullets, you had played him. He backed away and fell back in his chair when you got up. You pulled a gun from the waistband of your trousers and pointed it towards him, shooting a shot that whizzed by his head so he knew this one was full. John flinched, and Tommy reached for his own gun.

You pointed your gun at John and then back at Arthur, “You two, get out. I want to speak to Thomas. Alone.”

They both got up and scurried out the door like a dog with its tail tucked between its legs. You put your gun away which was a sign for Tommy too as well, and you both sat down.

“Now Thomas, lets talk about business, yeah?”

*******************************************************

Almost an hour later you and Tommy had finally come to terms and made a small business deal. It wasn’t anything big, but it was a start. Tommy still sat in front of you, drinking his whiskey that you had poured him. Oddly enough he had grown to like you.

Strangely, so had you.

Tommy put out his cigarette and pointed his drink in your direction, “What’re you doing this Friday y/n?”

You pretended to check your agenda, and smiled at Tommy. “Well, hopefully I’ll being going on a date with a very handsome man.”

He smiled up at you “He must be quite handsome for you to agree.”

“That he is Tommy. How about you?”

He smirked at you through the rim of his drink, “Oh you know, I’m going on a date with one crazy bitch.”

******************************************************

I hope you like it @imthebadguyyy !! Although, I low key hated it😂😂

Have a great day darlings!!❤️❤️❤️

Let me know if y’all want to be added to the taglist!!

@nothingleftthaticando @shadowfoxey

[septiembrre]

Hi!! Are you still writing brio fic? 😭😭 are you still gonna update one of your stories?

Hi, friend! Ergh, the honest answer to this right now is no. I don't want to keep stringing folks along. I still think about my wips a lot... but truthfully there's been no writing happening.

Okay, but right now I opened one of my WIPs (please, don't let this inspire any hope in me). A fandom friend had given me a writing prompt for an alternate perspective of Satisfied through the weekend. And like...

He thinks about her a lot–petty thoughts mostly–trying to undermine her and shit. He sees her everywhere, even when he’s with other people. It’s the worst.Sometimes he can even sense when they’re in the same room. Like now–his palms itch and a pinprick of tension snags deep in his left trap–tell-tale signs Elizabeth’s lurking about. 

His gaze casts out into the bar. It fades away when he sees her.

First off, he’d pick her out of any crowd. 

Second off, what she’s wearing—

Hijo de su puta madre. 

He can’t help it. His gaze drops to caress the outline of the dress. A few seconds pass before catches himself. But, it’s no use. There’s already something simmering, deep and twisted inside of him. 

She’s all dressed up. The usual blue, the gold and now the little accents of red? Fuckin’ incandescent. 

 The dim light of the restaurant catches on the gold of her hair, washes her pale skin making her look like something out of some. 

He ain’t ever been a guy into Singer Sargent or Rosetti. They ain’t his people. But if one of those dudes had painted a portrait of Aphrodite? It’d look like her. 

+

Except the guy sitting with her ain’t the typical dumbass.

Except – 

No fucking way.

+

A sigh answers him. “Chris. Pura basura, remember?”

“I don’t need a fuckin’ pep talk.”

He hangs up, puts the phone in his pocket. It’s quiet in the alley, but his his blood is hot, furious and pulsing. Rage, muffled like cotton balls, fills his ears, tunnels his vision. For a moment, he sees red.

Then, he laughs. 

He hates her. And he also really doesn’t hate her. Like sometimes… sometimes he even– It’s like he can’t make up his mind. 

Except that he has and it’s both. 

And the thought, of her trading him in for some fucking bottom feeder. A gun for hire. Serial-killer-ass white dude. Like?

Why can't I let myself have nice things? Eesh, I can update if I do actually start sincerely working on a WIP.