#drone three draws shit

[drone-three]

Murderbot is living rent free in my brain. Also, I suck at backgrounds, so…

Pose reference: Justin Martin

[umblrspectrum]

this has been on my todo list for actual goddamn months. do you know how long i've been waiting to draw this fucking t

[shadelorde]

finished system collapse and ohhhhh my god. oh my god. oh my god????

things:

ART DRONE ART DRONE ART DRONE and Murderbot? art drone and murderbot holy shit. mb putting on its favorite show for it as its dying and holding it and being upset when it dies/ART-prime reabsorbs it i MUST draw that

Murderbot helping people with the power of stories i just AUGH people have said it so much better than me but ohhhhh my god

Holism im SOBBING it appears for exactly three pages and manages to be annoying as shit. ART i understand your anger deeply. condescending asshole. i cant wait to draw it

[kindersurprisebacterium]

Content (Ghost/Soap/Reader)

Part of Indulgence - Polyamory Collection

CW: threesome, polyamory, vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, cunillingus, anal fingering, anal sex, discussion of sexual boundaries, biting, aftercare, safe sane and consensual, double penetration

Gender Neutral AFAB Reader

WC: 2.3k

I’m writing this at work, forgive any formatting errors

A small pool of drool formed on my sweatpants. Glancing down at the man laying in my lap, I smiled. I ran my fingers through his hair, toying with his curls. He looked peaceful below me. His plush lips were parted, and his thick blonde eyelashes framed his closed eyes oh so nicely.

I turned to the Scot beside me. His blue eyes focused on the screen in front of us. It was some horror movie he’d begged us to watch.

“Johnny, could you get me another drink?” I asked, pouting my lip.

“‘S the big guy asleep?” He glanced down at Simon. I wordlessly nodded. “Course I can, doll.” He leaned in, pressing his lips to mine. As he pulled away, he flashed me that smirk of his. I couldn’t help the smile that crept across my face.

The cushions shifted as he rose. I shifted my focus back to the screen. A woman with dirt smeared across her face climbed through an air duct. Her panicked panting blended in with the ambience of the background.

Simon smacked his lips, nudging his face into my leg with a soft grunt. I smiled, twirling his blonde locks around my finger.

���Here you are,” Johnny said, passing me an opened can of beer. I took a swig of the drink, blue eyes watching me closely. He threw his arm over my shoulder and leaned in to press a swift kiss to my temple.

The air duct collapsed. With a large clatter, the pipe landed on the concrete floor. As the dust settled, the half-naked woman crawled out of the vent, chest heaving as she coughed. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Johnny grinning brightly, teeth catching his bottom lip.

“Wait for it,” he said, squeezing my shoulder.

Suddenly the leg of the killer appeared in the corner of the screen, heavy footstep echoing through the warehouse. Screaming sounded over the speakers as the woman scrambled to stand.

“Can I ask you a question?” He turned to look at me. His leg was bouncing, heel tapping against the wood flooring.

“Of course, Johnny.” I gave him a reassuring smile, resting my unoccupied hand on his thigh.

“Do you think you could take both me and Simon?” His leg bounced even faster, blue eyes skimming my face for any reaction.

“I mean, the one time I tried anal, it hurt…a lot. I just don’t want you guys to hurt me.” I glanced down at the sleeping figure in my lap, taking another sip of my drink.

“It shouldn’t hurt, doll. I promise I’ll prep you good.” His large palm cupped my face, tilting my chin up to look at him. His thick brows furrowed, lips curling down into a frown. “I promise we’d take care of you.”

My stomach swirled with excitement. It wasn’t that our escapades were boring per se, if anything, they were the opposite. The prospect of having so much attention on me stirred something in my brain.

“Yeah, okay then. I’d do it.” I nodded. His eyes widened, lips curling into a smile. In an instant, his leg ceased its movement. He pressed a chaste kiss to my cheek.

Squelching echoed over the speakers, drawing both of our attention.

“Shit- we missed it.” He sighed.

-

Johnny pushed the door open. The three of us stumbled inside. With a thud, I tossed my purse onto the dining table. I gripped onto Simon’s arm as I kicked off my shoes. He glanced down at me, hand undoing his tie.

Simon leaned in, holding my face in his sweaty palm. His lips met mine with a bruising force. He groaned against my lips, thick brows furrowing as he pushed me toward the living room.

“I wanna fuck your ass,” he grunted. I pulled back, glancing at Johnny. His eyes were wide, flicking between me and the Brit.

“Do I have to…” my words droned on. Both men quirked an eyebrow, urging me to continue. “Douche?”

The two men looked at each other. Johnny parted his lips, as if he was about to speak, only to close them. Slowly, they turned their attention back to me.

“I don’t,” Simon shrugged, hands groping my ass.

“I do sometimes. It’s your choice, doll.” Johnny leaned in, pressing a chaste kiss to my cheek. I leaned into Simon, pressing the side of my face against his toned chest. Looking up at Johnny, I nodded.

Images of the scenario flooded my mind, making my stomach flutter with excitement. Both men using me, splaying me open. Large hands on my body. Sweat dripping down my skin. It all seemed so enticing.

“Okay, let’s do it then.” I spoke softly, fingers toying with Simon’s suit jacket. Simon’s palms slid up my back, fingers wrapping around my waist. “The anal, not the…” I droned on.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” Johnny added.

I pulled away just enough to look up at the blonde. His brown eyes scanned my flushed face for any sense of hesitancy. Gritting my teeth, I grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and tugged him down to my height.

“Simon, I want you to fuck my ass.”

-

“So good f’ us,” Simon cooed, pressing a kiss to my cheek. I lifted my hips as Johnny tugged my underwear down my legs. Ghost hooked his hand underneath one of my knees, tugging my leg to my chest. I glanced at the man laying between my legs, and at the man beside me. My teeth caught my bottom lip, the taste of iron flooding my senses as I bit down.

“Are you okay with this?” Johnny asked, thumb stroking my inner thigh.

“Yeah,” I nodded. The scot shot Simon a quick glance before turning his attention back to me. He leaned in, licking a thick stripe up my cunt. I tilted my head back against the pillows. My plush lips parted as an unrestrained moan fell from my tongue.

His tongue flicked against my clit. I reached forward, sliding my fingers into his Mohawk. He groaned against my cunt as I tugged him forward. Simon popped the cap of the lube open. Johnny held his digits out. I watched as Simon spread a thick line over Johnny’s fingers. Johnny smirked against my cunt, tongue still laving over my clit.

I squeezed my eyes shut as his fingers circled my hole. Simon leaned in, cupping my cheek with his palm. His chapped lips pressed against my cheek and down my jaw, leaving behind a trail of wet kisses.

“You’re doing so good, lovie,” Simon cooed. I whined as Johnny pushed his finger past my entrance. He moaned against my cunt. A spark of pleasure rocketed up my spinal cord. My thighs twitched, hole clenching around his finger. He inched his digit forward, blue eyes watching as I swallowed his finger.

He pulled out, starting up at a slow pace. In and out. In and out.

“So tense,” Johnny mumbled against my cunt.

“Are you okay?” Simon asked, tilting my chin up with one of his thick fingers.

“Yeah, I’m just nervous.”

Johnny’s lips wrapped around my clit, sucking harshly on the bud. I whined, rocking my hips against his face. The tension in my core melted as he ate me out with fervor, mouth not leaving me for a second. His finger sped up, squelching with every knuckle-deep thrust.

“There we go. Add another, Johnny.” Simon said, slowly stroking his cock.

The brunette withdrew his fingers, only to add another digit. My vision grew unfocused as tension slowly pooled in my stomach. I buried my face in the crook of Simon’s neck, moaning against his collarbone.

“Feelin’ good, lovie?” Simon asked, fingers carding through my hair. I nodded, hot tears welling in my eyes. “Add another.”

I choked out a sob as another digit slid inside of me, stretching me out. My thighs quivered, nerve endings igniting with pleasure.

“Oh, fuck- I’m gonna cum,” I moaned, eyes locking onto the man between my legs. Johnny pulled back, bringing his unoccupied palm to my clit. His blue eyes locked onto my twitching cunt, teeth sinking into my inner thigh.

My jaw went slack, eyes painfully rolling to the back of my head. Hot tears streaked my flushed cheeks. I whined as I came undone on his fingers. I clenched around his fingers, vision going white. My skin tingled as jolts of electric pleasure washed over my limbs. I twitched, muscles tensing under his touch.

As he withdrew his fingers, I suddenly went limp in Simon’s arms. My sweaty chest heaved as I gasped for air. Johnny leaned in, gently brushing away strands of damp hair from my face. Simon pressed a soft kiss to my temple.

“Stay with them while I get water,” Simon said, shifting his weight on the mattress. The springs beneath us squeaked as he rose. Johnny tugged me into his embrace, arms wrapping around my back. His stubble rubbed against my neck as he trailed wet kisses along my skin. He whispered soft praises, fingers idly tracing patterns into my skin.

“Sit up for me,” Simon said, sitting down beside me. He grabbed my wrist, tugging me up. I took a hold of the water bottle in his hand and brought it to my lips. His thick fingers reached out, tucking my hair behind my ear.

“Small sips,” Johnny said with a kiss to my cheek.

I tilted the bottle back, quenching my parched tongue.

“Nae chugging! I said sip.” Johnny frowned. I handed the bottle back to Simon with a long exhale. The two men glanced at each other, and then back at me.

“Do you want to keep going?” Simon asked. I nodded.

“Course I do.”

Johnny grinned, laying on his back. He curled two fingers.

“Come here, then.” He caught his bottom lip between his teeth. I swung one leg over his hip, straddling his waist. I wrapped my fingers around his cock, dragging his head through my slit.

“Fuck, you’re so wet,” he groaned, hands gripping my hips tight. My eyelids fluttered close as I slowly sunk down on his length. A low groan rose from his chest as he pulled me down onto his length. I gripped the headboard, using it for leverage as I slowly rose. His hands guided my hips up and down on his cock.

“You ready for me?” Simon asked, squirting lube into his palm. I watched as he slowly stroked his cock, spreading the lube over his heated skin.

“Yeah, go slow at first.”

“Course I will.” He grunted, leaning in to press a kiss to my lips.

“Give me one too,” Johnny frowned. Sighing, the Brit leaned in and pressed his lips to Johnny.

“Happy?” He asked, moving to kneel behind me.

“Very.”

He settled his hand on my waist, fingers splaying over my stomach. His cockhead nudged my entrance. Squeezing my eyes shut, I whined as he pushed past the ring of tight muscle.

“Oh, fuck!” Johnny sputtered, “squeezing me-”

“Come on, open up f’ me.” Simon groaned, inching himself inside of me. The air was pulled from my burning lungs as he slowly pushed forward. Simon reached around, rubbing quick circles into my clit. I tossed my head back against his shoulder, panting out shallow breaths. His palm landed harshly on my cunt. I clenched around his cock, a desperate whine escaping from my chest.

“There you go,” he grunted as he bottomed out.

“Fuck, Si, I can feel you,” Johnny moaned.

I felt Johnnys cock twitch inside of me. My head spun, clit throbbing at the sensation of being split open. Sweaty palms groped every bit of flesh they could reach.

“Move, please-” I groaned, legs quivering beneath me. The two men slowly rocked their hips in and out of me. Tears brimmed in my eyes, my vision going unfocused.

Johnny’s hand landed on my ass, flesh blossoming with irritation. I whined, clenching around both men. Their groans reverberated around the small bedroom.

Simon grabbed my chin, tilting my head to the side. He pressed kisses against my sweaty skin, teeth grazing my pulse point. He bit down hard enough for blood droplets to rise to the surface of my skin.

“You like being stuffed with our cocks?” Simon grunted against my neck.

“Yes- fuck!” My head spun, limbs going limp in Simon’s hold. I fell forward into Johnny’s chest, drool spilling from my parted lips. Static washed over my body as I gushed around the two men. Both men grunted,

gripping my hips tighter as they fucked into my convulsing cunt.

“I’m not gonna fuckin’ last like this,” Johnny moaned, wrapping his arms around my back. He bent his knees, rocking his hips up into me. Simon groaned, matching his pace with the Scot.

“Oh, fuck! I’m gonna cum,” Simon moaned, leaning forward. His sweaty palm soothed across my back as his hips grew erratic. Johnny whined, hips stilling inside of me as he came. Simon followed suit, fucking me through his orgasm, before slowly coming to a stop.

The two men panted, hands running over my sweaty body. Simon’s hands wrapped around my waist pulling me into his warm embrace. My eyelids fluttered open, taking in the brown eyes before me. His lips curled into a smile. Johnny was soon at my side, fingers brushing stray hairs from my face.

“Johnny, would you mind running a bath?” Simon asked, looking up at the Scot. The brunette leaned in, pressing his lips to Simon.

“Course.”

-

I leaned back against Johnny’s chest as he scrubbed my skin with a cloth. Simon sat opposite us, knees tucked to his chest.

“You sure you’re okay?” Simon asked again, fingers skimming up my thigh.

“Yes, Simon. You can stop asking.” I laughed, tilting my head back against Johnny’s shoulder. Simon’s brown eyes flicked toward Johnny.

Johnny’s chest heaved as he cleared his throat with a cough. I turned my head, looking up at the man. He folded his hands neatly in my lap, pursing his lips tightly.

“Would you…want to do this again?”

Masterlist

[thunderbxltss]

𝐕𝐄𝐋𝐕𝐄𝐓 𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 (𝐩𝐭. 𝐈𝐈) | robert “bob” reynolds

taglist -> @bigteefsmallbrain @baylegend6

WARNINGS -> language, mention of injury

translations -> Детка (baby)

THE ARID BREEZE bristled the still crude, swollen laceration above her eye as it funneled through the rear window of Alexei’s limousine.

The ramshackle remnants of the Red Guardian had found them the following morning, bursting with what one could place as masochistic joy — all to the humiliation of Yelena, who had shrunk in on herself like a mortified teenager in the passenger seat.

The sight played like a memory lost amongst time. Where she’d be exasperated with red-pinched cheeks at some off-the-cuff remark made by her father. He’d chuckle at her, nudging playfully at her shoulder until she relented with a smile.

Though she could have — wanted to — yield to the record spin of nostalgia, she had to abandon the thought, allow it to become a ghost once more. In the wake of its dissipation, she still felt astray from her body, riding the waves of longing…of grief.

The dull tap of a boot’s tip drummed against her ankle, drawing her eyes to John Walker across from her, the tides that churned her soul wading into the shadows for now.

“You’re abnormally non hyper-verbal,” he observed, bedraggled blonde hair becoming tussled in the drag of warm wind.

She stilted an eye roll, “As if you’re worthy of my attention.”

Perceiving the tension that was being stirred by their bridged, blazing gazes, Ava interjected to cauterize the situation, “So, what else do you know about this Project Sentry?”

Fiddling absentmindedly with the keen edge of the file, y/n pursed her lips fleetingly and in spite of the gash at the corner of her bottom lip, “Not much beyond knowing Valentina spearheaded it and everything in this file.” And how it subjected all those people to a death sentence, except for Bob.

The somber tone of dread nicked at her nerves; was he ok?

“Whatever she did, it’s not the shit they injected Steve Rogers with,” Walker remarked airily, easing into a nonchalant slouch against the suede bench seating, “Or Barnes or you.”

A silence momentarily prevailed amongst them beneath the din of the engine and droning discord between Yelena and Alexi.

The circumstances of her superhuman enhancements had seldom been made existent beyond typed words on her SHIELD file that framed it candidly: HYDRA insurgents, abduction from father’s convoy in France, injected with quasi-Erksine serum, profiled abilities - superhuman strength, heightened endurance, and accelerated agility.

The discomfort that then irked amidst the injury on her face made him aware that he had waded into a place he wasn’t welcomed. He itched at the nape of his neck as if to shoo out the awkwardness that came to intermingle with vehicle fumes and dry air. Though, the creep of something akin to understanding edged dimly at his expression.

“We have to go back for him!” Yelena abruptly shouted above the rumble of the unsound engine, inelegantly twisting herself to face them with her hands planted on the leather seat.

“If we enter even a mile within the radius of Valentina, she’ll know, and kill us,” Ava proclaimed in return, a flush of criticism in the tenor of her voice. Her eyes subtly squinted towards Yelena, an implicit questioning of Yelena’s line of thought.

“Or sick Bobby on us like some submissive attack dog,” Walker bluntly remarked, shrugging ever mildly and unbothered with his unfiltered rambles.

The three women simultaneously peered his way, expressions resolutely unimpressed.

“Does your brain ever hurt from all the rotten garbage that is in it?” Yelena mulled, fluttering a mocking gesticulation towards him.

“Oh, kiss my ass, Belova,” he countered eventually, temper propelling him to point a stern finger back at her.

“And catch whatever diseases you carry?” she poised a brow at him before casting a sidelong glimpse out the window and to the warm and expansive golden brown of the dirt road.

The blue makeup smudged beneath her eyes twitched as her gaze broadened, “Fuck.”

Walker, wired with militant hyper-vigilance, scrambled his torso around in the rather tight space of the rear seat. Ava and y/n stretched themselves to peer over his shoulders.

Three tactical SUVs pigmented the sandy horizon, veering sporadically toward the red limousine, gun turrets trained intently at their vehicle.

“I thought we lost these assholes-” Walker started to grumble, sharply interjected upon by a spectacular spray of bullets at the back windshield.

The din of metal denting resounded around them as the bullets skidded against the car’s red shine.

The limousine skirted into a chaotic spell of veers and jerks as Alexei feverishly attempted to elude the gunfire. The hitched crusade he was leading them on had their fingers dug into the seat cushions for stability, bracing their faces from the vulnerability posed by the glass around them.

With one hand hooked on the tattered cushion beneath her, y/n haphazardly collected the file in her lap and huddled it back into her vest.

“Don’t worry your tiny, tiny blonde head - she’s bulletproof!” Alexei shouted, almost too exultingly.

A thousand glittering fragments then scattered on the leather around them as the window fell out from the bullets’ ferocity. John promptly perched up his shield in the whipping gap where the window had been. He hunched against its metal curve, angling it as to sanction some of its protection towards y/n and Ava.

“What happened to bulletproof?!” he bellowed back at Alexei, face scrunched in recoil at the thunder of bullets and wind whirling around them.

“Bulletproof-ish!” Alexei’s yell was strewn with newfound tension, his knuckles flashed white on the steering wheel.

“Oh, for fuck’s sakes,” Ava groused in song with Yelena’s groan as the blonde perched herself forward towards her open window.

Gun propped in her hand as she was jostled around, Yelena finagled herself on the sill.

“Because shooting a pistol at three armored vehicles will save us,” Walker rolled his eyes, and y/n mulled briefly over the ponder if he ever spared a thought before opening his mouth.

With the exasperation of someone who had worn thin with patience, she then shouldered herself away from the protective sheath of his shield. Head achingly bowed, she maneuvered herself in a cumbersome scoot towards the nearest window, crook of her palm weighted on the hammer of her own pistol.

“And hiding behind your shitty shield like a little bitch will?” she bit back, a lithe finger flicking off the safety mechanism.

Peeking over the rubber edge of the blown window, y/n gauged the potential angles she could fire from to strike at the wheels of the foremost SUV.

“Not everyone can have a designer shield!” Walker lamely shouted, tone akin to that of a petulant child.

A cadence of metal thwacks and clunks bounced around beneath the tires whine and ambush of bullets from his shield, as he twisted himself around to inch closer to the window she braced against.

A bridge of vague wrinkles curled around his eyes as he squinted at the opponents that outgunned and outmanned them. The flash of contemplation poked through the ash and bruise on his face, seemingly as if he mused over how he could throw himself into a position of braggart heroism.

Finger still wavered in a flirt towards discharge, she knocked her boot rather harshly upon his calf that had been hurriedly angled against the door, “Move your big head or I’ll blow it off.”

His hand flailed unceremoniously towards her, his sprawled fingers nearly propelling the pistol from her clasp. Instinctively, she reinforced her grasp on the weapon’s handle, fingernails embedding light half-moons on her skin in a spark of agitation.

“Would you-” she started to grunt with a tasteless amount of frustration radiating from her, only for his belligerency to stifle her in a sharp shush.

Her hand was all too keen to intercept his bobbing wrist that danced at the tip of her eyes and nose, “Don’t shush me-”

The shriek of an explosion abruptly then belittled her agitated spurt, her grasp falling lax on his wrist as to reinforce her balance on the seat as the ground resounded with a terrible echo.

A dull push poked at her back that leaned against the passenger seat as Yelena swept herself back into the tottering sanctuary of the limousine.

“What the hell?” Ava huffed out in a grunt, craning her head around the rooted profile of Walker, eyes assuming a narrowed frame — though it was fruitless with the breadth of his shoulders and shield in landscape of the blown out window.

“Can this shithouse-on-wheels go any faster?” Yelena shouted contentiously at Alexei, the ferocity of her bristle rivaling the fiery remnants of the overturned SUV skidding off the road behind them.

“Your hostility wounds her - she is trying her best,” Alexei wagered a sole, stern finger up from the fists that were wound around the steering wheel, pacing it towards Yelena.

Their tit-for-tat fussing was smothered in y/n’s already ringing ears by the throttled backfire of a motorcycle from alongside the two remaining SUVs.

Bracing her hand against the cushion once more, she dared a generous peek around the rubber corner of the window.

“Perhaps try not to give them something to shoot at?” Ava exclaimed over the cacophony of engines around them, ogling y/n as if she were rather unperturbed by the precariousness of her blithe lean out the window.

The limousine lightly bounced in an uneven jaunt as it rattled over a dispersion of rocks, y/n’s head jostling against where it was pressed up against the curve of the window. She rolled her eyes at the remark, aware that the gesture would go unnoticed by Ava on behalf of the angle her head was perched at.

Rattled with a tinge of nausea from the jounce her concussed head was committed to from its current position, y/n tilted away from the window with a few fingers wavering at her temple.

Another metal clang reverberated alongside her as Walker careened his shield away from him as to gauge a more expansive view from beneath the bow of the car roof. She slid her thigh away from the propel of his boot as it clumsily reinforced his heft of weight in the compact area.

“Wait - is that Bucky?!” he blundered out in a rush, his tawny hair askew in the dalliance of wind that gusted through the back.

With a similar air of ebullience, y/n trained her head partially out the window, stray hairs from her ponytail flittering in the tear line of her eyes. Blinking them away, she peered through the dainty plume of dirt and smoke and to the motorcycle readily matching the pace of the leading, last SUV.

Curious, her eyes flickered promptly to the gulley most immediate to her, finding that - amidst the hotheaded quarrel that thrived amongst them - the rider had taken out one of the two SUVs with a shotgun blast to the front tire. The shotgun’s work was suggested by the billow of smoke from the black rubber that permeated around the disabled vehicle now angled down in the sand.

The motorcycle then halted, the rearward tire arching like a pulled-back rubber band at the abruptness of the rider’s braking. For a fleeting few moments, the lone SUV fishtailed away from the rider with the fever of a prey evading a pursuing predator.

“Some savior!” Ava pointedly exclaimed, her hand impulsively aligning to the activator of her mask — an implicit “someone has to save our asses”.

The shrill reverberation of brakes stuttering and subsequently spinning rattled through the limousine, everyone’s faces simultaneously flashing a scrunched grimace.

With fluidity and lithesome skill, the SUV was yanked back from where it was inches from the limo’s taillights. Their pursuer was plucked from the road as if it were featherlight and a mere pebble on the path, rolling over repeatedly as it pummeled amidst the debris of one of the other SUVs.

The pallid harshness of the desert sun weaved amongst the gleam of familiar metal where the grappling hook was embedded into the ground. Bucky. y/n briefly indulged a swirl of relief, the rigidity finely spun in her shoulders easing.

“Yes! I told you!” John clamored obnoxiously.

“Ah - the Winter Soldier!” the boisterous twang of Alexei’s accent came in concert with Walker’s, a blend that was equal parts irritating and childlike. The older man’s thundery laughter buoyed for a few beats afterwards as he obsessively cast his eyes up at the rear view mirror to catch Bucky’s distant silhouette.

y/n relented to a sly roll of her eyes, reckoning that Yelena and Ava shared similar sentiments of irritancy at the duo of men that were evidently ego blind.

She maneuvered herself back from the window, rumpled hair composing itself in a mussed ponytail as she smoothed a hand over the crown of her head.

“You-” she then craned herself as to intercept Alexei’s gaze in the mirror, fingers clenched on the shoulder of his seat in a cumbersome brace, “— stop the car.”

A frown inched onto his forehead at the impromptu demand, as if not familiar to being bossed about - particularly by the likes of someone such as herself.

“She think I’m chauffeur,” a poor excuse of a mumble poked through the corner of his mouth while shaking his head.

Yelena pursed her lips in ill-concealed indignation, favoring silence rather than a verbal stoking of his obstinacy.

“Oh, shit!” Walker’s blurted to no distinct recipient, y/n and Yelena duly twisting themselves around to him and the point of his plight, both bowed down to acquire a better viewpoint.

“That’s not good,” Yelena bitterly murmured.

Bucky’s motorcycle swerved curtly onto their tail end, shotgun propped sky-bound but metal finger poised precariously about the curve of the trigger.

“Stop the car!” y/n’s, Ava’s, and Yelena’s voices verged into a clustered shriek above the roll of the approaching motorcycle’s engine.

Consistent with his ploy of daft idiocy, Alexei lightly smacked his lips in feigned contemplation until he loosely gestured, “Until your name is on side of car, you hush.”

y/n then hastily sprung forward from between Ava and Yelena, hand clasping firmly onto the overhead strap to steady herself fleetingly, “Fine.”

Tightly securing her pistol, she tossed her hands onto the steering wheel in a clasp that rivaled the enhanced strength of Alexei. She roughly wrenched the steering wheel with purpose, Yelena — quick to discern her intentions — jostling alongside her as to jam her foot towards the brake pedal.

It was a perilous string of seconds as the bulky vehicle careened to a halt in a muddle of tossed up gritty sand and dirt. Frazzled and subtly whiplashed, y/n’s hands remained affixed to the steering wheel, Yelena’s scattered breathing flitting against the flush of her cheeks as the blonde glanced at her in tacit questioning — “did we really just pull that off?”.

“I say no touch and then you hijack my Детка,” Alexei’s gaze weighed her with the revolt he’d behold a pestilent rodent with.

y/n only shown him a mirror of the abhorred expression, nose scrunched amongst the lines of a sneer. She vehemently reinforced herself off the steering wheel, unabashed when her elbow jostled his shoulder in passing. A spluttered scoff sprang from the man now behind her as she propelled open the dented in door with the sole of her boot.

The door seldom had a moment to bounce at its springs before it was caught at the upper right, the whir of a telltale, metallic clinch accompanying it.

“y/n?” the sun haloed around Bucky as he partially bent down into the outline of the door.

By virtue of instinct, his blue eyes poked and prodded at her - at the bold and bright bruises, at how she stilled a heedful hand at the crook of her ribs. His atypically troubled gaze leveled with hers and she nodded dismissively with a threadbare smile - “don’t worry”.

“Hey, thanks for not, well, blowing us up,” Walker’s voice spilled out from behind her, bolstering himself at her right side with a hand planted against the doorway.

Bucky’s jaw visibly clenched at the sight of the man who had smugly sauntered into Steve’s legacy and got a power trip from it.

“Alright, before the two of you dick-fight, we have a bigger problem than your fragile egos,” y/n lightly waved off Bucky’s cornered stance towards her, sidling out of the car upon his measured step backwards.

A brush of his fingers against her elbow came as her maneuver onto firmer ground rippled with a quaver, a reminder of looming irks of the ordeal of the past three hours. Her own fingers chased away the lithe grace of his grasp as she mainlined her posture, steadying her hands on the top rim of the door, gaze finding Bucky’s stern, brilliant blue eyes.

“What are you doing with him-” his chin jerked intentionally towards the misfit puzzle assembled in the car, “— with any of them?”

“For a former assassin, you’re shit at subtlety,” Yelena remarked flippantly, catching him through the angled rearview mirror.

“They were sent by Valentina to the same compound I was, told that the other was their target. It was a trap and she tried to kill us,” y/n explained, her tone drawn composed despite the grimness of the circumstances she mulled over, “Obviously, we got away but…”

Her mouth stalled much to her chagrin. Surely, Bucky had heard and seen his share of uncanny oddities in his century’s worth of life — but a nag in her nerves whispered that, for some reason, this time was different.

Bob was different.

The young man, unassuming, with a stature pinched like a wilted flower. The one that swayed on an emotional pendulum with a fond smile one moment, and harsh, disparaging mumbles the next.

“It’s probably for the best that I don’t go with you guys,” Bob gave her a half-sheepish smile, fingers twitching as he fiddled them.

She had looked at him with a frown. The words struck uncomfortably at a knot squeezed behind her ribs.

“I-I,” she then cleared her throat, “-we all get that thought stuck in our heads…let it dwell, swallow us…like a..” a lonesome ache greeted her as an old friend would, the one that had bubbled painfully in her everyday since her dad died.

Bob looked at her with an afflicted intensity that budged with a flare of understanding, “Like a void.”

Her hand that had flitted at accident with his own then hummed in mockery amidst the rumination of him — of who he is.

“We encountered someone else down there,” Ava offered in the stretch of silence, “Bob. Valentina did something to him…enhanced him.” Evidently, she was skirting around the term “experimented” with a prickle of discomfort at the corner of her eyes.

Bucky stood there for a pause, blinking with something verging on tenuous patience. Then, he looked at y/n, “Bob?”

“Bob,” her confirmatory response melded with that of the others idling in the car, a couple of their voices distinct with exasperation that he was sparing the time to doubt them.

Bucky proved ceaselessly unfazed, and y/n cast a frowning glance at him as he spoke solely to her now, “I’m taking them in to testify in front of Congress at the impeachment hearing. That’s why I tracked you guys here.”

y/n lightly scoffed, a few sputters of laughter hissing from the rifts of her lips, “Take them in — when we’re telling you there’s something that could stick her ass in prison for good? I have the file on what she did that’s better than the testimony of a band of depressed, morally questionable mercenaries, Bucky.”

“That’s a little pot calling the kettle black of you, Stark,” Walker hummed, thudding an arrhythmic tune against the doorframe with his bruised knuckles.

“She is very crooked in the mind! Taking wheel of car and jerking it about like maniac,” Alexei feverishly contributed to the rip into her holier than thou facade.

She sobered her tongue to her cheek rather than beckon a serpent of anger into the already unsteady atmosphere.

Bucky regarded her then as if his assumptions of the throng hanging around in her vicinity had been aptly confirmed.

“You told me to find evidence of the enhancement project and I did,” she flitted an accusative finger towards his chest, frustration clenching her jaw.

“A file is nothing when you’ve got firsthand accounts of her operations,” he exhaled with forced measure at her pistol-shot attitude. His tone inherited a ring of finality then, “I already have a ride on its way to bring us back to D.C.” He surveyed her for a generous second — “don’t fight me on this”.

This was a losing battle, y/n could see that. Wherewithal and common sense told her that any further demonstration of attitude was going to be smothered swiftly by the likes of his bleak resolve.

“Pawns in your little stunt as a Congressman? Please,” Walker, indifferent to any murmur of sense that may have dissuaded his arrogance, scoffed.

“Congressman? Go from Winter Soldier to a cuck in tailored suits,” Alexei clicked his tongue disapprovingly without much care that Bucky had heard him.

“You can’t be serious,” Yelena fully turned to Bucky as he blandly motioned for her to get out of the limousine. Her narrowing stare found purchase on y/n, “Stark?”

“She’s already made up her mind,” Ava assessed, a trace overconfident. She tilted her head up at y/n in a challenge of her words as she departed the vehicle.

“And what about Bob?” Yelena murmured sternly, now at y/n’s side with hands rendered useless by a pair of binders behind her back. Her eyes were broad with conviction as the nascent rays of the sun caught them.

y/n knew that tossing forward the rather irritating Stark stubbornness against Bucky was plain foolhardiness — for all intents and purposes, the man wouldn’t hear another word about Bob or Project Sentry, having found a swifter resolution in their collective testimony. Futile, drawn-out testimony before a government she had told to kiss her ass during the Sokovia Accords. She wasn’t going to sidle up to them because Bucky was suddenly straight and narrow.

She often granted Bucky Barnes a hefty dose of benefit of the doubt. Yet, uncertainty rattled like a pebble amidst the generosity she approached him with. Does he think Valentina will back off because a group of unstable former assassins and human experiments tattled on her? y/n wouldn’t wager Bob on a blind hope that she would.

“We’re going to need all the help we can get to get out of this shithole,” she remarked, frisking a few fingers over the rear of Bob’s head that had been propelled against the wall by Walker.

The roam of her touch — concerned, warm, cautious — at the nape of his neck made him cramp in a slight recoil out of instinct. She instantly dropped her hand from the brown tufts, his shoulders withering in what favored frustration more than relief.

He glanced at her almost apologetically, though a glint of resent cracked the gentler tone to his eyes as they flickered over at Walker. Clocking his animosity-strung stare, y/n cocked her head as to obscure some portion of Walker’s profile in Bob’s gaze.

Nearly instantly, softness whetted the entirety of eyes as he looked at her through the dappled light.

The corner of her mouth livened in a reassuring but resolute smile, “We aren’t leaving you here.”

She glanced at Yelena’s eyes that hadn’t lingered off her, speaking carefully and out of Bucky’s keen earshot, “We’re going after him.”

There was a little raise to Yelena’s lips — a simple smile — and y/n mustered a nerve to reflect it. A silent understanding to do what was needed.

She just hoped they weren’t too late.

[froagles]

I have- a lot to say about Chapter Four, so-

I sound a bit salty, because I am, but I promise it’s all not that serious and it is just a game! Let’s all remember that and be respectful

⚠️SPOILERS AHEAD BIG RANT BELOW ⚠️

❌ There’s about to be a lot of negative so if you don’t want to see it skip to the positives! Totally fair! It came out yesterday and I was hyped and it didn’t meet my personal hype, so I am a bit salty ngl! So totally fair to skip ❌

I can’t really talk much about Yarnaby because his death was SUPER glitched? So I was kind of just like “…okay- I mean yikes for him but-“ I can’t even tell if it was something I did that made him burn? I’m someone who hates chase sequences (not because they’re bad I just get too stressed lmao) but his felt kiiiind of underwhelming? But again one of the places I assume he was supposed to be chasing was- glitched as all hell he didn’t chase me at all, but anyways, my son that I can’t draw, I’m so sorry

Pianosaurus- honestly? I didn’t give him the time of day during promos and such, and honestly now I’m ashamed I didn’t, I’m someone that needs time to just- stare at a character’s design for more than four seconds, just to picture their potential, and staring at his design after the fact, yeah, a MUSICAL chase scene? Are you KIDDING me?? I would’ve fucked with that, SO. HARD. I think Mob was trying to go for the funny route, that or just to show how unstable/strong Doey is, but- I don’t know maybe he could’ve come in and saved us.. after an actual chase scene? My man had ten seconds of life including the cutout, Mob hates dinosaurs fr

The Doctor- I don’t know man I wasn’t too hyped about him like- fight wise? But I knew he’d come with lore and it’d be a different kind of villain so I was still hyped in a sense, and- since I can’t say much about Yarnaby’s death- then the Nightmare Critters stuff? Like it was interesting he was playing with us, but he just dies so easily, like I guess it makes sense, he’s an immovable(?) computer, but for someone everyone expected to be the main villain, and who was talking so much shit to us the whole game, he was also kind of underwhelming, disappointing really the mindless drone computers was also all glitchy so I couldn’t tell you much there

Saved this for last (critique wise) because if you follow me/like my stuff you probably know I love the Nightmare Critters, they got me into actually drawing Poppy Playtime stuff instead of just fixating on the Smiling Critters but not drawing them, helped that I had finally gave in and watched chapter three (out of order.. I finally watched chapters one and two like a week ago, fake fan I know) in September, and then they came out in October

Maybe it’s dumb, but these stupid emo critters mean a lot to me for personal reasons, a lot more than they probably should, so to say I was excited was an understatement, and- the trailer didn’t give me high hopes, but I stayed hopeful, thinking maybe that tease of a Bigger Baba would lead to something? Like- “maybe she’s actually an ally! They did say multiple allies, she’s the black sheep of the Nightmare Critters! It makes sense! They have their own jingle made too, maybe there’s a commercial!” And then to not even get cutouts of them felt kind of like a stab in the heart

They started their big promotion of the chapter with a week long introduction and- nothing, and yes you can argue the same thing happened to the Smiling Critters in chapter three though comparatively they got way more than the Nightmare Critters, which they gave us more of in chapter four, but that’s just the thing, why make the Nightmare Critters in the first place then? It’s not like it’d tarnish the Smiling Critters’ brand, they were introduced AS antagonistic plushies trying to eat us, and if the idea was that they were such a failed attempt (in universe) at trying to attain the same popularity as the Smiling Critters.. why not say? Give us a note? A line? An acknowledgment besides them visibly attacking us to their existence? Even as a villain despite the symbolism Baba could’ve been a parallel to Catnap, something, but nope, she was just the main grunt character, like actually, that’s what her and the Nightmare Critters were, Yarnaby was a pet, they were like The Doctor sent out bugs to come at us, in the cage room they were just slightly bigger bugs, like what is that about by the way? Are they not Bigger Bodies? Are they the “main” Critters? Like tell us things about them please, even their little jingle is an Easter Egg there’s NO acknowledgment of them, at all, and to top it all off, no cutouts, when characters like Daisy have cutouts despite never being a character we face, why have us see the Smiling Critters cutouts again with the same dialogue- and all the other new characters get cutouts, but not the Nightmare Critters?? Why????? I dunno, it’s not that serious but it’s incredibly disappointing for me personally, as we had months of hype for- literally nothing

Edit: I have more to say actually, why the heck was Baba even advertised as different from the rest of the Nightmare Critters? In everything we get of them she’s in the middle, or the main focus, the spotlight, for.. what? She’s the only one attacking us? Like I just don’t get it, I still believe a better plot were to have her be a parallel to Catnap, because they’re similar situations in a way, Baba’s Prototype was just Dr. Sawyer instead, just.. minus having a hinted personality, but maybe this time, we could’ve saved her when we couldn’t Catnap or something? So like it’s not too similar, but I dunno, literally anything would’ve been better than what we got

✅ But! It wasn’t all bad, this chapter did have a bit of good in it that I enjoyed, case in point- ✅

Doey, GOD I love his colours, I jokingly hated him because I fucking hate drawing circles, and this man is nothing but circles, but my actual opinions pre release I just couldn’t wait to see him animated, I love characters that don’t have to deal with anatomy, I hate anatomy, stretch away king, but I didn’t have much of an opinion otherwise, then we find out he’s made up of three people? The lore is hot, his jingle is a bop also, the fact he killed his (well one of the people’s) parents, that was illegal, stop that, and I’m glad that he didn’t just agree with Poppy’s plan, but also I wish they talked about the long term? Say they defeat The Prototype, it’s not like they can go back into society, I’m surprised no one had that existential thought, his death though- a bit convoluted but yeah, also to my understanding The Prototype set off the bombs right? But we still planned to do it, just maybe we could’ve moved the Safe Haven guys out beforehand I dunno, but that was such a sad death, he said SORRY TO US. US???? BRO WE SUUUUUCK, RIP the king of this chapter

Safe Haven, omfg that was just such a cool concept to me, I guess you could say that it’s not really original but I don’t really care about all that, kind of wish there was more of a variety of toys in it though (yeah I know there were a couple Boogie Bots and a Mini Huggy but it was still clearly Smiling Critters focused y’know? I swear I don’t hate the SC guys I’m just trying not to be biased towards them) I’m glad they had a memorial room, and it’s SO lucky of them to have a doctor I don’t know how if they were all children but that doctor is the goat, in the thumbnail of the trailer they make a point to show that Doey could put things in himself, and we also know from tapes that he can make it where others can’t, surely there’s big enough cracks to where he could go up in the surface and lowkey rob a store to get them food right? Pretty please? Give these people food T^T ALSO I’m glad they actually talked, I didn’t expect that to be honest, yay :3

I was not expecting to see BBI Hoppy but I’m so glad we did, my fav Smiling Critter hiiiiii :3, I love her voice, and it makes me wonder if she was the last Critter besides Dogday and Catnap, because maybe they would’ve mentioned the others if they were alive? I dunno, but I’m just glad to see her

Bouncing off of those two points ^, we got more Smiling Critters shit!! Not much in the grand scheme of things, but we got a whole BBI Hoppy tape, a blurry image of I thiiiiink BBI Bubba on one of the TV screens, and an entire room full of the little Smiling Critters, that counts probably, we got more that makes me happy :3

Out of order but seeing that Kissy in the train car- omfg I think that was who Riley from the notes was- RIP Queen, Jesus-

By the way I WILL be using the fact that Touille’s tail is lowkey kind of like Catnap’s that shit is so long, we sure he’s not an opossum lol?

The jingles made by Black Gryphon slaaaapped bro, make them longer puhleaseeeee 🙏

Kissy Missy, send tweet, she’s alive my angel she’s so TRAUMATIZED go AWAY PROTOTYPE

Poppy joining the realistic panic attack club- I don’t blame her for running, and I don’t think any of us should, we the player suck LMAO we deserve this, it was sad for Kissy though the queen

Also people saying fuck Ollie- why? Ollie was real, it’s The Prototype that did all that, not him, leave him alone he’s a bean

I kind of expected Huggy Wuggy was alive, these fucking wuggies are made of titanium I guess, what if the two reunite? They should give each other a hug with their long velcro paw pads, that’s what should happen Kissy and Huggy need to hug as probably the only BBI’s left (presumably, if Boxy is alive we cheer)

As disappointed in the chapter as I am, as it was my first time seeing it release live, it wasn’t all bad, maybe I could better judge some parts when they fix the glitching

I am working on some more drawings! Sorry I’ve slowed, I’m still not used to drawing so much lowkey, at least not like fully colouring and even doing backgrounds, if you couldn’t tell I only ever really do sketches lol, but yeah sorry things slowed I think I hurt my hand somehow, but sorry for the rant! I can get really ramble-y I’ve just never had a place to do so, despite my opinions I won’t be stoping posting art! So fret not, anyways, byeeeeeee!

[cat3ch1sm]

💚~ hi!! this is my first fic in so long, im so sorry for disappearing for almost two months ... idk I've been at a loss for motivation for a while. happy new years i guess😭. but it's a story based off of @a-hazbin-reader recent headcanons about alastor (first hazbin hotel writing!! exciting !!) i happened to come across it and immediately saw a fic idea finally. all credits to them and the person who requested the original writing (hope they see this too lololol) !!! also yes my anime writings will also return so yayy im officially back!!

heads up this is super long it's like 15 pages cause ya girl got a little carried away 😅 i hope you all enjoy and reqs are open for all!

🌲❦(๑˙❥˙๑)~ mentions of violence , abuse, bit of blood, alcohol, language, lewd language a little bit at the start, fem!reader

alastor x fem!reader

"Angel. Are you able to draw absolutely anything else?"

The aforementioned spider demon stared straight at Charlie with his brow arched and a shit-eating smirk on his lips. Beside his face he haughtily held up a sheet of paper with one of four hands, a drawing depicting nothing other than a giant penis.

"Nope." He popped the "p."

The hotel residents and employees, including Angel, Husk, Vaggie, Nifty, you, and Alastor were doing Charlie's usual scheduled feel-good activity. The devil's daughter had given out paper and pencils, gathered everyone in a circle and told everyone to draw something that made them happy. And of course Angel Dust, lewd as always, had spent a frankly concerning amount of time drawing the member currently on display on his paper.

Everyone just stared at the drawing in silence. Examining it while Angel continued to hold it up with not an ounce of shame on his face.

"Why is it... anatomically correct?" you finally questioned, tilting your head and squinting at the piece.

Vaggie, sitting beside her girlfriend, let out an exasperated groan, looking from the drawing to Angel with undisguised revulsion. "Angel Dust. First you drew pills, then you drew a liquor bottle, and for the last three goddamn turns we've given you, you've drawn a dick. Come on. Are you even trying-"

"Whadd'ya mean?" Angel asked innocently. "Charlie said to draw somethin' that makes me happy. Dicks make me happy. And as a worker here, you shouldn't be judgin' me," the porn star added smugly, making Vaggie let out an impatient growl.

Business as usual in the Hazbin Hotel.

"Well, I mean, you can't really say he didn't try," Husk deadpanned in a gravelly voice. "I mean, look at the vein-"

Ding dong!

"Oh, wow, hey, someone's at the door!" You'd never seen anyone move as fast as Charlie in that moment, and Vaggie was in close pursuit. In a split second, Nifty's tiny frame was flying after them both.

"Someone's at the door!" Nifty repeated in a high-pitched voice.

"Right. While they're distracted, I need a damn dick- fuck. Drink," Husk snapped, rising from his place on the floor. Angel immediately started laughing while Husk wasted no time lighting into him. "Shut up. You and your fucking anatomically correct dick got into my head," you could hear Husk snarl while Angel's taunting laughs never ceased as they headed off to the bar.

With those two gone, it was just you sitting in the circle, blinking. "Right," you murmured, standing up and dusting yourself off.

"Well, my dear? What did you draw?" came the oh-so-familiar drone of the Radio Demon's voice from the corner of the room. You couldn't help the smile that spread across your lips at the sound of it, and glanced up to see Alastor standing with his trusty mic stand, beckoning you to come closer. Of course, you obliged.

You scoffed a little, smile turned slightly sarcastic. "Well... I was going to draw you, but Angel suddenly became the Picasso of Penises and I didn't get around to it."

Alastor laughed good-naturedly, wrapping an arm around your waist and planting a gentle kiss on your head. "Ah, always the sentimental one, aren't you, my dear? Well, no matter. It's the thought that counts."

Your smile turned genuine again at his gesture and Alastor noticed. "There's that smile, sweetheart. Now, if you'd just keep it on your face at all times without fail, we could be quite the formidable pair."

You kissed your teeth with mock exasperation and lightly shoved Alastor away. "Oh, here you go again. And I thought we were having a moment. Alastor, my face just cannot stay like yours for that long-"

Before you could finish your sentence, Charlie came rushing back into the room, her sudden entrance startling you a little. She made her way up to you and Alastor. "Hey, um, Y/N? There's a woman at the door who says she's looking for you. She seems really upset."

Your face wrinkled in confusion. Someone looking for you? You weren't friends with anyone really outside the Hotel and those affiliated with it, so you had no clue who would be searching for you. You glanced at Charlie with a "What's going on?" look and with some reluctance pulled away from your boyfriend's grip to follow her.

As you neared the lobby, you heard a distressed-sounding voice in the door, and confusion growing you walked a little faster to the entrance. But before you could even register who the visitor was, she'd thrown her arms around you, fingernails digging painfully into your skin. But the stench of her familiar perfume wafting unwelcomed into your nose, into your mouth, smothering you and strangling you let you know the identity of this woman without even having to see her face.

You instantly stiffened, limbs suddenly like metal rods, not at all softening into her embrace. Your eyes went wide and you could feel your pulse speeding up.

"Mother?"

"My love! Oh, my precious girl!" she cried, pulling out of that suffocating hug for a moment to cup your cheeks in her cold hands, hands that no matter how gently they touched you their touch would always sting. She peered into your eyes with watery ones of her own, tears streaming down her cheeks. "I missed you so, my dear. This is where you've been hiding? I was so dreadfully worried!" Her eyes, always scrutinizing, ran up and down your figure in the way that made you want to tear the flesh from your bones.

"Oh, and I was worried you were starving somewhere. You were such a frail, skinny thing before on Earth. It's a great relief to see you've put some weight on your bones."

And the first stone was thrown.

"Mother." It was the only word you could seem to utter, fighting the urge to throw up, bile collecting in your throat. Her voice was like a slap to the face, and it was only your mother's grip that kept you from actually staggering backward. And how the others were just staring, awed, at the scene, Charlie's eyes sparkling with tears, Vaggie with a hand on her shoulder and a knowing smile, Angel and Husk watching contentedly from a distance, and Nifty clinging to Alastor who was smiling as usual. God, if you didn't vomit right fucking now, you'd be surprised. But you knew what they all saw in their clouded vision- a heartfelt reunion between mother and daughter. But really? It more closely resembled a predator at last capturing its prey.

You really couldn't hear what she was saying over the pounding in your head, but somehow you were in her arms again, and she was fawning and cooing over you like you were a child, showering you with kisses that burned like molten iron and rocking you back and forth. Always she loved to put on a show, loved being the center of attention.

It made you sick.

You managed to come out of your stupor long enough to shove your wailing mother away, unfazed by her crocodile tears. It was like waking up from a haze. She stumbled back slightly, and you backed away, your entire demeanor hardening. Your tone was flat when you spoke.

"What are you doing here?"

You apparently weren't doing that clean a job of masking your emotions, because the venom in your voice caught even you off guard. Your mother looked hurt- that act wasn't new to you, either- and your friends and partner surrounding you shot you disapproving and mildly disgusted looks that clearly wondered why you were being so cold to your own mother. You dropped your eyes to avoid the accusing stares, unable to slow your breathing and fighting the desire to lash out. Charlie looked bewildered and hurt, Angel Dust arched a brow, Husk appeared disapproving and Vaggie’s venomous expression said everything she wanted it to. How dare they look at you like you were the bad guy without knowing shit! She couldn't care less if you lived or died. She was here because she wanted something, and nothing more. Perhaps she heard about your role in the extermination of the Extermination and wanted a piece of the popularity you'd recently found yourself gaining. Or she came because she was probably destitute, the frivolous bitch, and wanted to suck up to either you or the powerful people you were now associated with. Whatever it was, you didn't care. You wanted her gone.

But it was clear she had no intention of leaving.

"All this time, and not one visit. And she never calls," your mother moaned in anguish, now addressing her new audience. "Perhaps I wouldn't have to track you down like a bloodhound if you would just come see your poor mother every once in a while." Her voice was overflowing with hurt and heartbreak you just could feel wasn't genuine. Before you knew it, she had broken down into sobs again, and you could only stand there stiffly, rage boiling, while the always empathetic Charlie moved to comfort the woman, rubbing her back soothingly while she sent Nifty off to get her tissues for her tears. The dirty look Vaggie shot you- "How cruel of you to do this to your innocent mother,” it said- sent heat rushing straight to your chest. Jesus fucking Christ, how could they fall for this shit? Your stomach twisted again, and this time you actually did nearly puke, suppressing a dry heave.

You did not pay any mind to your mother's display- you refused to give her the satisfaction. You turned in the opposite direction, arms folded, nails digging into your skin hard. You felt nothing seeing her cry but bitterness and icy detachment.

"I don't want to see you-"

"Well, now- who do we have here?"

Alastor appeared from the shadows with his sharp-toothed grin, glancing at you first and then your weeping mother. Before you could stifle it, a rush of hope surged through you- if anybody could get this infernal woman to leave, it would be Alastor. You turned towards him, hoping he would see how distressed you were- he was typically fairly perceptive when it came to you and your feelings. But alas, your mother caught his attention first, peering up at the Radio Demon standing over her with teary eyes and wet cheeks, a piteous expression on her face.

"The Radio Demon? Oh, well, a being like you mustn't worry about who I am. I'm just- a poor mother come to visit her daughter. But she... doesn't seem to want to see me." She sighed in a melancholy manner and slowly unburied her face from the tissue she'd been holding. "I suppose I will simply see myself out."

"Oh, nonsense. Y/N's mother, are you? I absolutely cannot allow you to remain on the streets. I insist that you stay." Alastor extended a hand out to your mother, his maniacal smile gone suspiciously gentle. It was disgustingly familiar; it was the smile he reserved normally just for you. "As... abrasive as your daughter may seem at the moment"- you felt him cast a look over at your back turned to him- "I'm sure she wouldn't want you suffering like this. Please, you're welcome to remain here."

You wanted to cry when he said this- could he really not see who this woman was? Did he really think you were just being testy? And when your mother took his hand and held it for much too long, you could take it no longer. And as everyone crowded your mother, showering her with welcomes and greetings and kindness, you pushed past everybody and walked straight out of the hotel doors, the last thing you saw being the tauntingly smug smirk on your mother's face before you slammed the doors behind you.

When you returned to the hotel, drunk, night had fallen. You hadn't seen any of your hotel mates since you'd left, and as far as you knew nobody went after you after your abrupt exit. Who the hell cared about that now, though? You'd talk to them about your deranged mother when you got inside, without her presence. Perhaps Alastor had just been being nice when he told her she could stay, and they hadn't actually been blind to why you were acting the way you were. Maybe they were just being supportive of a guest when they saw you acting out of the ordinary, knowing you usually were never snappy and stony, and still took her side. Maybe so.

You wished you hadn't had so much to drink.The pounding in your head was worse than when your mother had shown up earlier and your eyelids felt heavy. You had tripped a minimum of ten times on the way back and almost let two thugs take you in their car with them. You hated being drunk, but your mother you hated more.

With unsteady hands you pushed open the doors of the Hazbin Hotel, vision blurring a little. You weren't amazing with alcohol, and again, being drunk wasn't your favorite thing. But the moment you entered, you realized you weren't nearly drunk enough.

In the lobby sat your boyfriend, Alastor, enjoying a cup of tea with none other than your mother. The two were laughing together, which incensed you enough, but what made you wish you'd just blacked out at that bar was when you caught sight of your mother's hand on top of Alastor's as they shared a laugh over God knows what.

It didn't take long for the two to notice you in the doorway, a turbulent, unreadable expression on your face, standing as still as a statue as you took in the scene. Your mother turned to you and smiled, waving the hand with the cup of tea in it.

"Why, darling, we hadn't realized you left! Alastor is quite a charming gentleman. We were just having a moment." She slipped her hand from on top of his with a slightly mischievous smile.

Oh, she knew exactly what she was doing. You had no fucking clue how, but somehow your mother had discovered that Alastor and you were an item. She wasn't sitting here with anyone else but Alastor, drinking tea with him, laughing with him, holding his hand. And she was wearing makeup she hadn’t had on when she’d first come in the hotel- red painted on her lips, blush dotted on her cheeks and glitter on her eyelids in a display clearly meant to make an impression on Alastor and Alastor alone. It wouldn’t be the first time she'd gone after one of your partners, but it angered you no less- it was like the woman wanted to take your place somehow.

Alastor turned to you as well with a smile, but when he saw the look in your eyes, his brow furrowed ever so slightly. However, he made no comment at your slightly disheveled appearance and picked up his expression once more. 

“Why, hello, my dear. Your lovely mother was just telling me about her life before you,” Alastor enthused. “A lively woman she was! I’ve heard story after exciting story. Quite a wild one, indeed- rather unlike you, sweetheart.”

You gave Alastor what could only be described as what is called ‘the thousand-yard stare,’ expression flat, not knowing really what to say to that. Despite the fact that you were in a bit of a daze still, either from the alcohol or the fact that your mother was on a date with your boyfriend, the haughty, self-superior expression on your mother’s face was not lost on you. Nor were the cow eyes she was giving him, or how when Alastor reached for the teapot to refill his cup her hand was conveniently already on the dish, lingering beneath his for what felt like hours.

She turned to Alastor, looking up at him with that sickly sweet, beaming grin of hers that she always plastered on her face when she was really about to lay it on. “I’m still wild if you ever care to find out,” she purred, batting her lashes at Alastor with an unmistakable air of seduction. 

Before you could even register it, you heard yourself saying, “Get out.”

Both your mother and Alastor turned to face you, your mother’s face having dropped and Alastor’s eyes piercing into yours. 

“What?” your mother asked, looking at you with wide, glassy eyes. You truly saw red for a moment, knowing damn well those tears were as false as Angel’s lashes, and the twitching in your muscles to just lash out was almost painfully difficult to stifle. Alastor’s smile wavered a little as his eyes darted from you to your blubbering mother, who had already started her shit.

You advanced forward, your stride making your mother jump and Alastor stand, and without hesitation tore her hand from Alastor’s, yanking her arm with force that momentarily startled even you. She was pulled from her chair and forced to stand up. 

Her voice full of anguish, she pleaded, “Baby girl, what did I do wrong?” However, unmoved by her over-the-top performance, you’d already started dragging her out, not bothering to respond to her or explain why you were throwing her out. She already knew; you could see past the tears and wails and her struggles to pull away from you. Fueled by fury, distress and the afterbuzz of the alcohol, you hauled your protesting mother out of the hotel, pitilessly leaving her outside in the dark, and forcefully slammed the doors behind her. There were muffled screams of your name coming from the other side, her fists pounding on the door, but after a bit they faded away.

The moment she was gone you instantly felt as if a weight had been lifted off of your chest, slumping against the door with a breath of exertion and relief. But that relief quickly dissipated when you locked eyes with Alastor, who was advancing on you, his smile obviously strained. The way he spat your name at you made you shrink back slightly, realizing that he was actually not pleased.

“You cannot just throw your own mother out like that. Into the streets? My dear, that is no way to treat your mother. And frankly, it’s rude.”

You felt anger rising once more, but you didn’t want to start anything with Alastor despite the fact that he had no idea what he was talking about. Of course it looked simply like bad etiquette from his standpoint; he had no idea who your mother was. And somehow you didn’t feel it was proper to tell him- you knew how much he valued his own mother and mothers in general, and as sweet as you had always thought that was, you knew he and his rosy view of maternal relationships wouldn’t understand and perhaps not allow for your turbulent relationship with your own mother. And you didn’t want to be the one to tarnish his otherwise endearing perspective by explaining how abhorrent of a person your mother was. So despite how much you just wanted to scream at him, to tell him he had no clue what was really going on, you kept your composure, inhaling shakily.

“Alastor, please. You- you don’t know what you’re talking about. So just stay out of it, alright?”

“She’s your mother, not the devil, dear.” Alastor’s tone was back to normal, and he was speaking in his usual radio voice as if he was talking to just anyone, and it made your stomach churn. 

“She’s not innocent, Alastor, she’s in Hell-”

“Ah, but so are you and I, sweetheart.”

Your face crumpled, and you found yourself coming up short for a rebuttal. Before you could stop them, tears started to well in your eyes, frustrated that you couldn’t get through to him. Out of spite and pride, you blinked them back harshly. Alastor tilted his head and started to come towards you, his mic stand clacking on the ground as he walked, and for a moment you felt a glimmer of hope, thinking that he truly wanted to talk and get to the bottom of your animosity towards your mother. 

But the Radio Demon breezed right past you and, before you could stop him, opened the door, and your mother whom you’d thought had given up at last and left waltzed right back in, suddenly no longer the aggrieved mother you’d thrown out and back to beaming a mile a minute. The self-assured smirk she sent your way had your blood boiling with rage, and you felt powerless to act. You wanted to slap that smirk off of her face, but why wouldn’t she smirk? She had Alastor exactly where she wanted him, and both of you knew it. 

“I apologize sincerely for the earlier… incident,” Alastor told your mother with a note olf sympathy in his voice, and again he took her hand; you had to tear your eyes away, back to the scene.

“Aren’t you charming!” your mother exclaimed, voice pleasant and upbeat. ‘Don’t even think of it, I’ve already forgotten.”

“You’re too kind, miss. But in order to make up for it, I’d like to offer you to spend the night. I would hate to send a lovely woman such as yourself out on the streets of Hell after sundown. I implore you.”

Fucking Christ. You didn’t even have to see her to know the way she was grinning at you. Your shoulders tensed, rising to your ears, and the tears burned hot in your eyes. Not wanting to give her the satisfaction, you bit your inner cheek hard enough to draw blood so as to not make the slightest sound alerting her to your tears.

“What a kind invitation. It’s nice to know at least somebody wants me here.” An icy silence from you. “It’d be rather rude not to accept; I would be happy to spend the night.”

“Lovely!” Alastor praised. 

You couldn’t take any more. Unable to stifle your sobs, hot tears falling down your cheeks, you tossed back a cracked “I’m going to bed,” and stormed out of the lobby with your head down, rushing upstairs as fast as you could and ignoring Alastor’s calls of your name. Just as you slammed the door to your room, you heard your mother say, “Oh, don’t worry about her. Let her cool off for a bit, and then I’ll go after her. A mother always knows how to cheer up her child.”

It was quiet now. Hours ago Angel Dust had returned from his work and Charlie and Vaggie had locked up for the night. Nifty had been, though with much effort, put to bed by Husk who had then closed up the bar and retired himself. You didn’t know where your mother or Alastor were, and you didn’t want to. 

You were the only one up now, and you had finally run out of tears. Your head was stuffy, your eyes were sore and bloodshot, and you could feel the beginnings of a hangover coming on. It felt like days you’d spent just crying in your bed, unable to suppress the emotion you’d felt since your mother reappeared that morning. Charlie had actually come to check on you earlier, worried, along with Vaggie, but Alastor had told them to let you be for now. You’d heard their muffled conversation from outside your door.

You just wished Alastor would understand, that they all would understand. Your mother wasn’t a mother. She didn’t nurture, she didn’t love, all she did was belittle you, bully you, and take from you. Yet never once had you been able to figure out what you’d ever done to her. You had tried so hard to help and to please her as a living child, then teenager, then adult- tending to your siblings when she was out on the town, working multiple jobs to take care of the house while she spent the day blackout drunk and the nights in the city, and still desperately believing she would change, you sent her portions of your salary when you grew older and begged her to utilize the money, but she always blew it on material shit. And as if it wasn’t enough that you had to be the mother to yourself and your siblings, she beat you too, mostly when she was drunk but sometimes you felt it was just for her amusement or to make you feel small and worthless. As a teenager she did nothing but sabotage you- you couldn’t ever have friends over because she was always passed out on the couch or acting erratic and stinking of cheap liquor, and you had to fight like hell to get your siblings out of there after you left home for school. And yet you had still had hope for her.

That all changed when you came to Hell. It was the end of the road for real now, and you figured there was no point trying to reconcile with your mother anymore. So you’d left her in the past, thinking it was over, finally allowing yourself a little peace. But you hadn’t realized the extent of the resent you’d been harboring until she showed up at the doorstep of the Hazbin Hotel. All those feelings just came rushing back.

Another hour or so passed and your swollen eyes were dried out and heavy-lidded. Exhausted from fretting about your mother and regretting the amount you'd had to drink, you turned over in your bed with a stifled groan and closed your eyes, hoping that sleep would finally find you and you could escape the events of the day at least for a little while. But just as you were drifting off, you were startled by the sound of your bedroom door opening.

You let out a moan that was half confusion and half sleepiness, and rolled over just a little to glance at the door through hazy eyes. “Alastor?” you mumbled questioningly, rubbing your eyes groggily.

But the voice that responded woke you right up.

“Not a chance, pet.”

You sat up instantly, knocking the bedcovers off. In the doorway, a shadowy silhouette in the dimly lit hallway, was your mother. A discordant note of exasperation sounded in your head; the woman couldn't let you be even at this hour? For the moment at least, you were more mildly annoyed than pissed like you were earlier, just wondering what in the hell she could possibly want now.

“Why are you even-”

You cut yourself off and immediately jumped out of the bed just as your mother lunged at you like a pouncing tigress; you'd sensed the attack in the way she had been moving and acted accordingly before she could maul you. It didn't mean it didn't still catch you off guard, though.

Your voice rising, you snapped, “What the hell are you-”

Again you were interrupted when she sprung off the bed and snatched your wrists in her iron grip before you could dodge again; her clasp was tight and bruising and you winced painfully. You caught a glimpse of her eyes in the faint light, and they were inflamed, wild with fury she'd probably been suppressing this whole time. It wasn't a new expression.

“Who the hell do you think you are?” she snarled, voice trembling with fury. 

“What the fuck are you talking about?” you demanded, tearing your wrists from her grasp and moving a distance away from her so she was on one side of the bed and you were on the other. By the bewildered look on her face, she was clearly not expecting you to break away so effortlessly; maybe thinking she could just abuse you like she did when you were a defenseless child.

Like hell.

“What the hell are you even mad at me for?”

Your mother, seething, launched more accusations at you. “You think you're better than me, now, is it? Saw your sorry ass on the news after that damn Extermination rebellion. Bet it took your ego up a few notches killing those Exorcists, huh? And now that you're in some fancy hotel, dating some powerful boytoy and hiding behind hell's princess, you think you can just get rid of me?”

“Apparently fucking not, because here you are. And I'm not hiding. I'm trying to get away from you.”

Your mother let out a bitter, droll laugh. “Oh, you think that's how this works?” she hissed in an icy manner, and even though you were already a good distance away you backed up further still. “Think again, whore. I'm the one who deserves to be here, not some ungrateful little cunt who just happened to fall out of me. If I have to live destitute in the back alleys of Hell, so do you.”

The heartless insults and vulgarities she hurled your way would have shattered the living version of you. But it was about time your mother learned that you were no longer the pleading daughter you’d been on Earth, and instead of piercing your heart the names merely bounced off of you.

“You might recall I spent my whole damn life trying to help you,” you answered with equal coldness. “And for nothing, too, because here the hell we both are. Don't blame me because you turned out to be the nothing you always were.”

Without warning, she lunged at you, rushing forward like a charging bull, and though you tried to dodge she managed to snatch a handful of your hair and slam your head into the wall. You let out a cry of shock and pain and spots exploded in front of your vision before you reached up, tore her hand from your head and shoved her forward. You advanced again, teeth bared and fists balled, unwilling to let her get up- but before you could swing, there was a crackle in the air- and what followed was a cacophony of static, crackling, and microphone feedback that would've deafened an elephant. But the sound wasn't new to you, and you weren't surprised in the least when you lifted your eyes to see Alastor, smile maniacal and glowing red eyes wild as he entered the room. The sudden explosion of sound made your mother flinch and clap her hands over her ears, and seeing your opening, you kicked her to the ground; her head hit the wall rather roughly and she lost consciousness, her body going limp. You were breathing heavily, staring at her body sprawled on the ground without pity.

Alastor's eyes lost their luminescence and his smile softened; and he came over to you, attempting to touch you, but you shied away. You weren't necessarily ready to forgive him; if he'd just done a little more pushing and hadn't invited your mother here with you, this could have been avoided. You dropped your eyes to the floor.

“I'm sorry, my dear,” Alastor offered in a voice that was sufficiently staticky. “I wasn't too kind to you today.”

You wanted to say, no shit, but held your tongue, back to him still. Feelings of resent still swirled within you, but admittedly, hearing his apology did make them dissipate a little.

“Why is it you didn't simply tell me she was like this?”

Now you were silent not out of spite but more because…you simply didn't know what to say? Where were you to even begin? How would you explain that you didn't want to somehow tarnish his view of mothers by explaining your history with your own? And that you didn't want him to feel guilty about having a good relationship with his mother while yours was knocked out on the floor in front of you? And that you didn't want him to lose his love of mothers because you were unfortunate enough to have a shitty one? 

Somehow you managed to splutter all of that into something coherent, because Alastor gathered you in his arms without waiting for your approval, which you didn't mind, finally feeling somewhat okay since your mother had first shown up. You felt his hands in your hair, taming the out of place strands, and he lifted your wrists to his eyes, tutting in disapproval when he saw the bruises beginning to form. He settled for wordlessly kissing the deepening marks gently, but when he spotted the gash on your head where your mother had slammed you into the wall, his smile turned positively venomous. His head did a full 180 on his neck, which always made you cringe, to glare at your groggily awakening mother, who froze in her position on the floor when she caught his alarming gaze.

Alastor turned back to you, static popping in the air, and his smile grew- if that was even possible. “Well, sweetheart? What would you like me to do with her?”

You were frankly tired now of fighting your mother, who had staggered from the ground, rage still evident in her visage but with Alastor present she wasn’t about to act. So with a weary sigh, slumping into Alastor’s chest, you muttered, “I just want her gone.”

“Anything you wish.” And within the next few minutes, Alastor had summoned Nifty, who was more than eager to take out the trash, and had the tiny janitor drag your mother from your room by her hair. You lost sight of the two after they left, but by the way Nifty was giggling the entire time she was hauling your mother, you had a feeling the next several hours wouldn’t be too enjoyable for her.

You’d been on edge the whole day, but you didn’t quite realize the sheer amount of tension your mother’s presence had placed on you until it was only you and Alastor inside the room. His hand traced soothing circles around your back, and you finally felt like you could breathe.

The morning, after what seemed like centuries, finally did arrive. You were already up although day had barely broken, and that was because the earlier commotion had disturbed the hotel residents and they had literally gotten you and Alastor (who had evidently felt bad enough to spend the rest of the night with you, which he didn’t often do for posterity reasons, kissing the side of your head where it was wounded and apologizing once more) up out of bed to barrage you both with an onslaught of questions (and Nifty remaining suspiciously silent save the occasional maniacal giggle). With some reluctance you gave the group a brief explanation of everything that had gone down, Alastor standing beside you with a protective hand on your shoulder. Long story short, everyone basically grasped that they’d fucked up by allowing your mother in and judging you harshly about it, and before long Charlie was in tears and begging for you to forgive her, Vaggie had admitted her remorse over it, Angel Dust was shifty-eyed and sheepish, and Husk apologized to you formally. You dismissed the apologies with a grateful look, and that seemed to satisfy them all except Charlie, who you had to tell straight out you truly did forgive her at least five times and that only set her off bawling again to the point Vaggie had to carry the girl out.

Alastor, although one couldn’t tell by his face, apparently did feel guilty about his involvement in the whole fiasco because he took you out for breakfast and spent the rest of the day with you, and by the time night fell once more your cheeks hurt from smiling so much and your spirits were significantly lifted. It wasn’t until the two of you were in bed together (again, your lucky day, you didn’t even have to convince him) that he broke the long, contented silence you two had been sharing to inform you curtly:

“You didn’t ruin my opinion of mothers, you know.”

You sat up at this, eyes wide with hope and relief. He rose along with you to meet your gaze.

“I didn’t?”

“Oh, no. My dear, I love my own mother dearly, but don’t think I’m not aware that others may not have the same relationship with their own mothers. I did admire your resilience, though, and though it really wasn’t necessary, I do appreciate your attempt to spare my feelings. If I do say so myself”- his hand came to rest on your lower belly- “you seem like you’d make quite a stellar mother yourself.”

“Alastor.”

“Merely a thought.”

[celestialprincesse]

Can you please do an anemic reader on who her lack of red blood cells are getting worse enough that she has to be hospitalized?! And we have to see soaps reaction?!

OHH He shits his pants

It's a routine blood draw, nothing you're not used to. Just a cell count to make sure everything's working properly and that your supplements don't need to have their dosage increased.

"So this here is the red blood cells.." The nurse drones as you sit in one of the consultancy rooms of the local hospital, chin resting in the crook of your palm. "They're low enough that we'll need to keep you in for a couple of days for an iron transfusion and monitoring before and after."

"I'm sorry?" You choke, snapped from your reverie as you look at the nurse and your results paper she currently points at.

"It's really nothing to worry about. We'll keep a good eye on you, you'll probably be in for three days, tops." "No but I have work." The woman across from you looks frustrated at your resistance as she raises an eyebrow your way. "I'd really strongly advise you not to go back to work like this. It'll only exacerbate your condition." "Right. Fine. Can I just make a call quick? Get my boyfriend to swing by with some essentials." "This isn't prison. You can call who you like when you like."

You tap your foot anxiously on the linoleum floor of the hallway as the phone rings persistently, waiting for Johnny to pick up.

"Bonnie! How'd it go?" John's Scottish brogue still manages to send flutters to your tummy, even after three years of dating and just having received bad news.

"They're keeping me in for a few days." The anxiety in your voice is obvious, and John can practically picture you worrying at your bottom lip.

"Why? Wha' happened?" "Just a really low red blood cell count. They're going to monitor and do a transfusion on Wednesday. I was wondering if you could bring me some stuff? Toothbrush and pyjamas and whatnot?" "Course I'll bring ye a bag. Text me what ye need and I'll be there in a half hour." "Thank you Johnny." "You dinnae need to thank me. I love ye, bringin' a bag is nothing." "Well, thank you anyways."

Johnny must've sped with how quickly he gets to the hospital, conveniently sporting his tags on the outside of his khaki hoodie and a pair of military issue boots. If his charm isn't enough to wriggle the visiting hours around, his job most certainly is.

You give a little soft 'Hi' and he's already dropping a black duffel to his feet, scooping you up, trying to ease the tension from your back by rubbing soothing circles between your shoulder blades.

"Bought all yer things. Clean clothes, washbag, laptop, chargers." "You're an angel." "Am no, 'm just very worried for my woman."

[a-fluffer-nutter]

If mercs were given a paper and crayons and a task do draw a tickle monster (the way the imagine it) how would each look like :3c

"Why are we doing this again?" Scout whispered, looking up from his drawing to glance over Heavy.

"Pyro still mad at all of us," the Russian did not look up from his work, the pen he was using looking comically small in his large hands.

"Guess this is better than being burned alive," Scout muttered, looking over at the other mercs around the table. Most of them were still furiously drawing, though Spy and Sniper seemed to be done, both of their pieces of paper flipped over. Sniper reclined in his chair with feet propped up on the table, hat tipped down to cover half his face, while Spy smoked, glaring daggers at Pyro from across the table.

"Mrph!" Pyro let out and everyone who was still drawing dropped their pens and crayons, all provided by Pyro, naturally.

Now standing, Pyro circled the table, collecting the papers like a teacher in school collecting an exam. Once back at their seat, they tapped the papers against the table as loud as possible. Now, with all eyes on them, Pyro flipped over their own paper to show to the rest of them.

“Sometimes the wee firebug scares the shit outta me. Now’s one of those times,” Demo whispered into Sniper’s ear, leading the marksman to bite back a laugh.

Making a noise which sounded like they were clearing their throat, Pyro put their drawing down then held up the next drawing, pointing at Scout in the process.

“Spooky,” Engie said, which provoked the rest of the team to nod.

“It’s just what came to mind,” Scout shrugged, then rubbed the back of his neck. “Not much to it.”

“Hey, that’s mine!” Soldier announced as Pyro flipped over the next paper. “He’s got an army to help him capture his victims.”

“Is that what those are?” Heavy smacked Medic once the words left his mouth, issuing a groan from the doctor. “What? It’s not like it’s obvious.”

“Want to say that to my face?” Soldier slammed his hands on the table, about to stand up before Pyro gripped his shoulder and shoved him back in his seat.

“Hrmph mmph,” Pyro stated, clearly irritated. Once Soldier let out a deep breath, Pyro took their hand off Soldier’s shoulder and showed off the next drawing.

“Aye,” Demo held up a finger, smiling proudly, “I’ve seen this bloody bastard in me dreams.”

“I would stop sleeping if I were you,” a few of the mercs chuckled at Spy’s statement, his voice completely serious.

“Stopped drinking tequila before bed,” Demo replied, then leaned over to whip out a bottle of gin from seemingly nowhere. “This however, this makes the dreams sweet as can be laddies.”  

All nodding as if this was somehow a fact they all knew perfectly well as true, Pyro took this silence as their cue to show Heavy’s drawing.

“That’s me!” Medic beamed, pointing to the portrait of himself that Heavy had somehow drawn in less than five minutes. Turning around to look up at Heavy, his bright blue eyes shined excitedly. “Does this mean that I’m your monster?”

“Da.”

“Pyro!” the doctor spun around once more, “Show mine next!”

Clapping their hands joyfully, Pyro nodded, then flipped the next drawing over for them all to see.

“You are my monster too!”

“I wish I had a woman that looked at me like that,” Scout muttered to himself, turning away from Medic and Heavy; Medic having just thrown his arms around Heavy, beginning to laugh as Heavy began to drum his fingers over the doctor’s ribcage.

“That there drawing’s cute as a button,” Engie said, lowering his voice as he leaned into Pyro so they could hear him better.

“Mmmhmm,” Pyro nodded enthusiastically, then patted Engie’s non-gloved hand. Tilting their head to gesture at the three papers yet to be revealed, Pyro let out an excited grunt, before flipping Engie’s paper over.

“This here is blueprints for somethin’ I could easily whip up.”

Allowing Engie to drone on about the blueprints he somehow drew up scarily fast, a few of the mercs visibly shuddered as Engie explained the different ways the device could torture a person for information, then light the person on fire. With the three Support mercs still reeling from the experiments Engie has conducted on them with the last few machines he created that were designated to distracting BLU’s Support members. Just before Pyro got Engie to cease his passionate tangent, Spy subconsciously rubbed his neck to drive away the phantom tingling he was suddenly experiencing.

“Sorry, bud,” Engie smiled at Pyro, “got a bit carried away there.”

Letting out a soft, throaty noise, Pyro patted Engie’s hand again before lifting the next paper.

 “Dammit Snipes,” Scout pinched the bridge of his nose, turning away to hide his growing smile.

“What?” Sniper held up his hands defensively. “Tavish is literally right there! Why should I hafta draw him if ya can all see him.”

“Good ta know that ye think of me as a monster, laddy,” Demo began to lean toward Sniper, inching closer as he stared right into Sniper’s glasses, making eye contact with himself.

“If ya touch me, I’m lopping a finger off,” Sniper warned, though his voice lacked in confidence. Quickly, Sniper reached down and withdrew a knife from inside his boot; the serrated blade shining in the artificial light of the room.

“No one is cutting off anyone’s fingers until I get a jar of formaldehyde to keep then in,” Medic snapped.

“I claim his ankles,” Soldier shouted, leaning over the table, just missing Engie as he threw out his arms as if to make himself look bigger.

“You all are imbeciles,” Spy rolled his eyes, taking a drag of his third cigarette of the hour.

“What did Spy draw?” turning to Pyro, Scout pointed at the man across the table with his thumb.

Simultaneously, every mercenary went silent once Pyro lifted the paper. This silence lasted until Demo and Sniper exchanged a look, seeming to read each other’s minds in a silent dialogue, which resulted in Demo slipping into hysterics.

“Good on ye, mate,” Demo cackled, holding up the bottle of gin he had still been clinging to.

Noticing Sniper covering his mouth with his hand, Demo pulled the slightly younger man into him so Sniper could hide his face in Demo’s shoulder as he failed to hold back his own bout of laughter.

“Aye, cheers mate,” Demo directed at Spy, pointing the top of the bottle at the man. “Look at whatcha did. Ye made ‘Mr. Professionals Have Standards’ laugh his wee head off,” Demo teased, then accentuated his point by wrapping an arm around Sniper, preventing the mans escape, as he began to tickle Sniper’s belly.

“Tavish!” the others heard Sniper’s muffled yell as his laughter grew louder, now intermixed with squeaky hiccups.

“I did not do anything,” Spy replied, brows raised at the audacity of Demo’s statement.

“We see that,” Engie pointed to the blank piece of paper, eliciting quiet laughter from the rest of the team.

“I did not need to draw anything,” voice lowered defensively, Spy glared at the Texan, “as there is no such thing as a ‘tickle monster.’”

“I dinnae about that one mate,” Demo warned, beginning to claw at Sniper’s ribs, knowing they were Sniper’s second most ticklish spot. Sniper squealed into Demo’s shoulder, blindly flailing his limbs to try to fight off his attacker while trying not to uncover his face for the rest of the team to see his crooked grin as he laughed his ass off.

“Demo is too busy. Heavy will do honors,” Heavy said as he stood up and began to walk toward Spy.

The sense of dread overtook Spy the moment Heavy’s mouth opened, though foolishly, Spy waited until the last second to run. Caught with ease, Spy was ensnared by Heavy’s large arms, unable to so much as move before Heavy’s massive fingers began to dance up and down Spy’s shoulder blades and the space between them; the one spot the entire team knew could crack Spy’s stoic demeanor. While it would usually take a while for his walls to fully collapse, Spy’s laugh bubbled out faster than usual; the man not knowing whether it was the general mood of the room, the contagiousness of Sniper’s laugh, or the fact that he deserved this treatment, but Spy began to laugh almost instantaneous to when Heavy’s fingers began their playful torment.

“This what you wanted, kid?” Engie asked Pyro, tearing his eyes and ears away from Spy; the Frenchman’s laugh loud and intermixed with snorts as his head was thrown back against Heavy’s chest.

“Mhm,” Engie could feel the smile behind Pyro’s mask resonate as the two of them watched the others getting in on the action: Soldier and Medic barking orders at Demo and Heavy to make their respective captured Support team member laugh the hardest, and Scout teasing Spy about his laugh, while sneaking closer to Demo and Sniper with a hand reached out aimed for one of Sniper’s knees.

Bringing Pyro in for a side hug, Engie felt himself smile at the scene playing out in front of him. Unable to remember why Pyro was upset earlier, Engie was somehow glad for it all to have gone the way it did.

Hi I wrote a fic and drew a lot of silly art. I hope you enjoyed it.

[drone-three]

Messing with some energy weapon ideas for Murderbot's arms.

There is a reference that the inorganic parts around the weapons ports may look like augments, but the weapons ports look like weapons ports. Also, when Murderbot was at Milu, it commented that the skin on its fingers was sensitive enough to be able to feel the release catch for Abene's helmet, so it has skin there. And given it can pass for human with its sleeves down, in my mind the hands look human. So there we go.

Of course, my idea of what its arms and hands look like may change upon next re-read. :D

[w1ltingk4lm1a]

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╰┈⋆˚࿔ My Intro 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

𐙚 Basics!!

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˙⟢˖ KaedeノHazelノNicoleノCherri ꒱

- ༘⋆ I’m fifteen!! .•☁︎

⸝⸝𐙚 I go by SheノHeノThey or just any because I really dont care!! <33 ꒱

𐙚⸝⸝ I’m Omnisexaul ꒱ Pref 4 girls + I just lean towards personality <33 ꒱

+ DemiAroAce.ᐟ ꒱

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╰┈⋆˚࿔Extras𝜗𝜚˚⋆

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ੈ♡⸝⸝🪐༘⋆ Interests: Space, Weird/Unique stuffed animals, Psychology, The human body + how it works, Horror related things, Zoology, Whatnots, Porcelain dolls, Crime documentaries, Poetry, Photography, Piano, Drums, Guitar, ventriloquism, etc.ᐟ.ᐟ

˚⋆𐙚｡ Hobbies: Reading, Writing, Drawing, Making random emo ass poems, Playing card games, Yapping about my interests, Being dumb, Collecting things that patique my interests, etc!

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╰┈➤Fandoms I’m in .ᐟ.ᐟ °❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

•Dark Deception, Serial Experiments Lain, Laceys Flash Games, Happy Tree Friends, Ace Attorney, Danganronpa, DeadPlate, Married In Red, PsychoCuties, Puppet Combo, Walten Files, Persona Series, Okegom, Ranfren, Creepypasta, PMMM, Batim, Ddlc, Btd1&2, TPOF, Needy Streamer Overload, 8:11, Love Angel Syndrome, FNAC, FNAF+related games, Ouran HighSchool Host Club, This Is Not Romance, Blood C, Possibly In Michigan, Homicipher, The Promised Neverland, Cookie Run Kingdom+Ovenbreak, Sundy Stairway, BBirthday, Hungry Lamu, Lamando, Popee The Performer, Ena, Splatoon, Murder Drones, Your Turn To Die, The Kid At The Back, Online Obsession & PASWG!

╰┈➤ ᯓᡣ𐭩 Some things I like to read .ᐟ

•Silent Screams, Daybreak, Nevermore, School Bus Graveyard, HomeSick, Paperteeth, My Brother’s (Not So) Secret Boyfriend, Stalker’s Tango, D!ckheads, Marionetta, Vampire Husband, Baby Sitters Club, Dork Diaries, Thea Stilton(Specifically The Dancing Shadows, Hooky, The Many Lives Of Pusheen Cat, Miss Quinces, & The Guy Upstairs

╰┈➤ ˙✧˖°📷 ༘ ⋆｡˚ Music Artists I like.ᐟ

•Mindless Self Indulgence, Deftones, Weezer, Nirvana, Insane Clown Posse, Machine Girl, Gore Shit, Mitski, Rory In Early 20s, Jack Stauber, Sodikken, Glass Animals, Mother Mother, Teen Suicide, Dazey & The Scouts, Destroy Boys, Arctic Monkeys, Linkin Park, Kiki Rockwell, The Smiths, The Cardigans, Three Days Grace, Get Scared, Whisp, Sir Chloe, Alex G, Jack Off Jill, She Wants Revenge, Solya, Bôa, Black Box Recorder, Slutever & Ghost And Pals.

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⋆˚࿔ Stuff I’ll probably use this account for 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

- To interact with my Pookie Niu because yknow shhh I love them!

- To post art and possibly answer things!

- I’ll occasionally maybe post random stuff? Who knows cuz I sure dont!

- I actually have no clue of a lot because I’ve never rlly used tumblr too much!

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[ladykailitha]

The Magic of Christmas Part 3/8

Just an extra long chapter here because they didn't want to shut up. They're getting closer and their best friends are slowly coming on board to the idea.

Part 1 Part 2

***

Eddie was vibrating. Chrissy had done a total deep dive into this guy and other then being a bratty teenager and having shit parents there was nothing in Steve’s closet that would set off alarm bells.

Steve Harrington just knew how to deal with people to get what he wanted. He knew when to back off, too. In fact, Eddie was trying to get the dude stop backing off so much.

He was a people pleaser with eroded boundaries. And while that was certainly a problem, it wasn’t a ‘might be a serial killer’ problem like Chrissy thought.

So yeah, Eddie was vibrating because he was going to show Steve his first set of sketches for him to okay the design.

Steve was late. He had called to let him know he would be late. A meeting had gone over and he would be there as soon as he could.

Eddie pulled out his drawing pad and flipped through the designs he had come up with. He itched to pull out a pencil and “fix” a line or seven. But he had to refrain. If he started on it he would be so far down the rabbit hole that he would have three new designs before Steve got here.

A shadow crossed over him and he looked up to see Steve standing there.

“Steve!” he greeted warmly, getting to his feet.

They shook hands and then sat down.

“So what have you got for me?” Steve asked eagerly, leaning on his forearms to see Eddie’s drawing pad.

Eddie grinned at him. “I’ve got loads, big boy.” He turned the drawing pad around and Steve paid diligent attention to each piece.

He went back to the third design and turned it back to face Eddie. “I like this one. But I have one suggestion, if I may?”

Eddie shrugged. “Sure.”

“What if the dragon’s wings spread out over the four other pieces connecting them?” Steve asked, biting on his lip.

Eddie began to sketch furiously while Steve watched in fascination.

“Have you ever thought about streaming your process?” Steve asked. “It’s very enthralling.”

Eddie’s head jerked up like he’d forgotten Steve was there at all. He looked down at his pad and blushed. “I never thought I’d have the patience for it, you know? The whole explaining it while I’m doing it.”

Steve nodded. “I can see why that might deter you. But if you just drew or painted and put music over the top, I think it would do very well.”

“And would you be my first subscriber?” Eddie teased.

“Hell yeah!” Steve said with a grin. “And I would tell everyone I know to subscribe too.”

“I’ll think about it.”

He slid the drawing back over to Steve, who grinned.

“Perfect.”

*

“Edward Allen Munson!” Chrissy hissed as she threw open the door to their loft. “You tell me right now: are you joking about the YouTube channel?”

Eddie looked up from his sketching and blinked at her. “I thought you’d be pleased.”

She walked over to where he had sprawled out in front of the five canvasses and flopped down across from him. “I am pleased but only if you aren’t trying to butter me up to leave you alone about your ridiculous crush.”

Eddie opened and closed his mouth, licking and smacking his lips as he struggled for words.

“It’s about the crush but not in the way you mean…?” he said with a grimace.

She crossed her legs and put her elbows on her knees. She rested her head on her knuckles to stare him down. He wiggled and squirmed under her gaze.

“Explain.”

So Eddie did.

Chrissy rubbed her chin thoughtfully. “So no talking but what if I convinced you to let me write words to put up on the screen while you paint talking about the subject matter and why you chose it?”

“Oh!” he said brightly. “Even better! Why don’t I talk about D&D or music while I paint? That way I can babble to my hearts content without out having to drone on about the process.”

She blinked at him. “Eddie Munson you are a genius.” She rose up on her still crossed legs and kissed him soundly on the forehead. “I love it and you.”

Eddie blushed and went back to his sketching.

*

“Steve!” Dustin screamed into his ear when he picked up the phone mere days after his last meeting with Eddie.

“God, kid,” Steve groaned. “Tone it down. I don’t want to go deaf please.”

He could practically feel the eye roll from here.

“Eddie Munson has a YouTube channel!” Dustin continued to scream. “Oh my god do you know how big this is?!”

“One, I need to you to breath before you pass out from lack of oxygen to your brain,” Steve said. “You like your brain, don’t abuse it like this.”

Dustin let out a slow shuddering breath. “Right. I’m breathing.”

“Good,” Steve said slowly. “And two, I know about the channel because he told me about it.”

“You already know?” Dustin squawked. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Steve sighed. “Look at the clock and tell me what time it is?”

“2:37pm. Why?”

“What time did the channel go live?” Steve asked, pinch the bridge of his nose.

“About one.”

“And where would you have been at one?” he asked, his eyes fluttering shut against the audacity of this kid.

“Oh.”

“Yeah, bud,” Steve said. “Oh. You were in class. Which I still don’t understand why you are taking summer classes. You’re young, you should enjoy your life.” He tilted his head. “How did you find out so fast anyway?”

“I follow Eddie on twitter, Facebook, Instragram, and his fan Discord server.” This was said as though it was obvious.

“Well now you have one more place to follow him,” Steve said ignoring the tone.

“Steve…” Dustin said, his voice low and dangerous. “Why are you his first subscriber?”

“Look, Dustin,” he said trying to keep the giggle in his throat from bursting through, “I’ve got to run. I have a meeting.”

“Stev–”

Steve sighed as he held the phone against his forehead, grateful they weren’t in person.

“Yeah, Steve,” Robin said from the doorway, “why were you his first subscriber?”

He blushed a dark red. “Because I promised I would be when I suggested the channel three days ago?”

Robin narrowed her eyes. “I see.”

Steve wasn’t sure what she saw, but he knew he would find out soon enough.

*

Eddie was working on Dustin’s first because he felt like it was the most important to get right. Wizards were usually portrayed as dusty old men and it appeared that this kid had done the same. But then the character was created ten years ago.

But Eddie decided to avoid a Gandolf/Dumbledore looking dude and went more for a Jafar that had gotten the time to grow old. A neat goatee, a sharp piercing gaze and weather-beaten skin.

His robe had stars on it according to Will the Wise’s picture of them. So he decided to make the robe look it was filled with swirling galaxies and nebulae.

Eddie was working on the cave background when his phone chirped. He tucked his paintbrush behind his ear and pulled it out.

Rich Pretty Boy: I got ahold of a couple of friends of mine that are going to help promote your charity. Nancy Wheeler is an investigative journalist most of the time but she owes me a favor and is willing to interview you about the charity to get it seen on a national platform. I’ll email you the details.

Eddie blinked at his phone in shock. Nancy Wheeler was the new and improved Barbara Walters (improved as in she wasn’t an ass to the people she was interviewing.) That must be a huge fucking favor she owed Steve if he got her for this.

EM: Holy shit! What kind of blackmail do you have on her for this?

RPB: LOL! I’m sworn to secrecy, sorry. :(

EM: All right, keep your secrets.

RPB: That’s LotR, right?

EM: Correct. I know you keep telling me you aren’t a nerd, but dude every time we talk I gather more and more evidence to the contrary.

RPB: I blame Dustin. He wore me down.

EM: Then I take it upon myself to complete the education that Sir Dustin has begun!

EM: Meet me at my loft on Friday at 8pm. We are going to start with the animated classics of the 80s!

RPB: Beer or wine?

EM: Beer.

EM: I’ll see you later, pretty boy. I have this huge project I’m working on that is on a deadline.

RPB: Curse the bastard that’s taking up all your time. ;)

Eddie laughed out loud.

EM: He’s the worst. ;)

RPB: See you on Friday, Eds.

EM: Laters!

Eddie put his phone down with a fond smile on his face. It was absolutely ridiculous how much he loved this beautiful idiot that had come in and swept him off his feet.

*

“Tell me again why I have to be here for this?” Chrissy complained for the fifth time that hour.

“Because fair Christine,” Eddie said through gritted teeth, “it’s not a date and he’s bringing his best friend.”

“How is his secretary his best friend anyway?” she groused, folding her arms and burying herself into the big fluffy sofa.

Eddie rolled his eyes and flopped down next to her. “They were friends before he took over the business. They had worked together in every job they’ve ever had so when he took over he put the one person he could trust in front of his office to shield himself from the assholes who make his life a living hell.”

Chrissy pursed her lips. “Fine.”

He kissed her cheek and went to go get the popcorn and candy.

“You ever going to tell this Steve you have a hard on for him?” she asked as he kept swapping bowls around for best placement.

“No,” Eddie said firmly. “Not while he’s paying me, anyway.”

She shrugged. “I guess that’s fair. It’s just...”

“That I have it so bad my only two thoughts are painting and Steve?” he finished for her.

“And me,” she agreed. “But pretty much.”

He put his head on her shoulder. “I’ve never fallen this hard for a person before. He’s sweet and funny and an absolute dork.”

Chrissy kissed the top of his head. “I’ll be good tonight. No bitching or being mean.”

Eddie snorted. “He’s also a queen bitch. So you can be you all you want. Just...”

She turned on the sofa, bringing her knees up to her chest. “But what?”

“When he starts gushing about something don’t...” he floundered for the right words. “Just don’t make him feel small about it.”

Chrissy tilted her head to side. “Has people made him feel small about his interests?”

Eddie nodded. “I think his parents were like yours, if I’m honest.”

“Rich, entitled assholes who wanted a doll and not a child?” she asked bitterly. He nodded. She sighed heavily. “Yeah okay. You got me. I know the signs and will adjust accordingly.”

He threw his arms around her and gave her a wet sloppy kiss on the cheek.

Just then the doorbell rang.

“They’re here,” Eddie said nervously.

Chrissy leaned down to look at him. “Do you want me to answer the door to give you a second to prepare?”

He nodded.

She gave his hands a squeeze and gracefully slid off the couch to do just that. She bounded over to the door and threw it open. And yeah, objectively she knew what Steve looked like, but seeing him out of his trademark blue power suit was a revelation. And immediately she got why Eddie fell hard for this guy.

He was wearing a David Bowie t-shirt from his Ziggy Stardust era and tight, light blue jeans. His sneakers were Nike’s, and his watch was Schwartz but those were the only major shows of wealth.

Next to him was not what she was expecting either. Chrissy was expecting someone more bookish. Glasses, frumpy. Or even the extreme opposite, a fashion plate. Someone who fit the sexy secretary stereotype. But nope.

She was fashionable, Chrissy had to give her that, but not in the way she thought. Billowy pants with a long-sleeved button up with sleeves rolled up to her elbows and pair of colorful suspenders. Her blonde hair was artfully tousled and she had freckles on her nose and cheeks.

In short, Chrissy was in love.

“Hi!” she greeted as though her heart wasn’t going to leap out of her chest to prostrate itself before this lovely maiden, only for her stomp all over it.

“Hey,” Steve smiled back. “You must be the agent/best friend, Chrissy I’ve been hearing so much about. It’s nice to put a name to the face.”

The woman elbows him. “Face to the name, dingus.”

Steve flushed. “I’m so glad I have you here to correct me.”

“Come on in,” Chrissy said warmly, moving out of the way for them to enter the loft. Inwardly she briefly wondered if maybe the best friend was the cause of the “limiting” as Eddie called it.

“Thanks!” he said and then pointed to the woman next to him. “This is Robin my platonic soulmate, best friend, and all around Stevie wrangler. I don’t know what I would do without her.”

“Aww,” Robin said with a smile and hip check.

Steve stumbled but laughed, too.

By the time they reach the living area Chrissy still wasn’t sure what to think about these two.

Eddie leapt to his feet at the sight of them.

“Stevie! Robin!” he greeted brightly. “You found the place okay?”

Robin nodded. “I’m glad you gave us directions on top of the whole GPS otherwise we would have ended up in some cemetery.”

Chrissy grimaced. “Yeah. But that cemetery was here before the condos and high rises so I can’t complain. Even though I really, really want to.”

“How old is the cemetery?” Steve asked eagerly.

She looked over at Eddie for help. “I don’t actually know.”

“Uh...” Eddie said unhelpfully. “I don’t know exactly but I know it’s over a century old.”

Steve lit up. “That’s so cool.”

“You like old graveyards, Steve?” Chrissy asked. She sat down on the sofa and grabbed the bag of popcorn.

“Steve is obsessed with them,” Robin said playfully.

“Am not,” he said and then turned to Chrissy and Eddie. “I’m really not. I just think it’s super neat.”

“What makes them so neat?” Eddie asked, taking the beer from Steve and setting it on the table with the array of goodies.

“Like seeing a bunch of people with similar death years knowing that it was because of a pandemic,” Steve said. “Or on Memorial Day going to see all the American flags for those that died during war time. It’s all just endlessly fascinating.”

“I could take you some time,” Eddie said. “Have a picnic lunch, make a day out of it.”

“You’d do that?” he asked eagerly.

Chrissy bumped Eddie’s shoulder. “Eddie here likes graveyards because they’re spooky.”

Steve laughed. “That’s a great reason to like graveyards.”

They settled down to watch the movies Eddie had picked out for them. A double feature of “The Hobbit” and “The Return of the King”.

“Holy shit!” Steve said afterwards. “How did they get more faithful to the books in less time than Peter Jackson?”

Eddie laughed. “Good story telling.”

They finally left for the night and Eddie closed the door behind them.

“Thoughts?” Eddie asked.

“And prayers,” Chrissy said. “Holy fuck do you have it bad. And I’ll swear under oath that if there is a god, he made Steve especially for you.”

He blushed. “Fuck, you can’t say that.”

“Why not?” she asked raising an eyebrow.

“Because it feels that way for me, too,” he whined, “and if you think that too, then I’m royally fucked.”

Chrissy sighed. “Yeah.”

***

Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8

@spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @artiststarme @swimmingbirdrunningrock @gregre369 @pyrohonk ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @chaoticlovingdreamer @maya-custodios-dionach @goodolefashionedloverboi @messrs-weasley @val-from-lawrence @i-must-potato @danili666 @carlyv @rozzieroos @wonderland-girl143-blog @justforthedead89 @emly03 @bookworm0690 @itsall-taken @vecnuthy @bookbinderbitch @redfreckledwolf @littlewildflowerkitten @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @scheodingers-muppet @mira-jadeamethyst @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @genderless-spoon @anne-bennett-cosplayer @irregular-child @carlprocastinator1000 @mogami13 @samsoble

[kydrogendragon]

Call of the Night - Day 2 of Sandmanniversary

Words: 3k

Pairing: None (but implied future Dreamling)

Rating: Gen

Ao3 Link Here

When Hob signed up to help man the White Horse, he hadn't really cared about what it was they were doing. All he knew is it was a three month expedition, it paid decently, and they needed an engineer on board in case anything happened to the old girl. Honestly, he'd expected a fishing vessel or maybe some government contract type deal. Once he was aboard and introduced to the crew, however, it became apparent this was a little different.

Loads and loads of gear and boxes were set up in the hull. Constantine, their lead researcher and childhood friend, filled Hob in on the details of their mission. Apparently, they were a team of marine biologists (there were definitely more titles and fields, but they went over Hob's head, so marine biologists it was) studying some rare sightings out in the North Atlantic a good five hundred miles from port.

The journey so far was fine. He'd gotten to reconnect with Jo—who he hadn't thought he'd see again since she'd left for uni in the states. He'd also gotten to get to know the rest of the crew. And The White Horse was quite the beaut. She ran fine and ran smoothly. They probably didn't even need Hob around, which left him with more free time on his hands than he was used to. He's pretty sure he's just a few more "visits" away from Jo wringing his neck.

When he'd returned to his bunk later that week to a small stack of books and pad and paper, he just laughed. To Jo's credit, she at least found him some books that actually sounded like something he'd read.

It was a month into their journey when it happened. The sun had set long ago. Most of the crew was either having their "breakfast" for the late-night shift or fast asleep in their bunks. Hob strolled the deck, walking its length and enjoying the fresh sea air.

It was quiet save the roll of waves and splash of the ship against them. It was this, this peace and silence of the ocean at night that Hob had needed. He also probably needed something more to keep his hands busy as well, but at least Jo was trying with the drawing supplies, as shit as he was with them. The most exciting thing that's happened so far was one of the rigs kept catching when reeling up. He at least got to whip out the tools for a few hours.

He was about to head back when he heard...something. If they were closer inland, he'd guess it was a bird—still could be, he supposes. It was quiet, just barely heard over the crash of water against the steel of the ship. It droned on, long and drawn out. It was deep, pained almost. And each minute it sounded closer.

Then he saw it. There, way on the horizon, a pale red dot among the darkness. It looked like a buoy or beacon as it moved with the waves. Hob frowned, lifting his binoculars that hung around his neck up to his eyes. It was hard to pinpoint in the night, but when he finally landed on the light, he gasped.

It was still far out from their ship, the details hazy, but it wasn't a buoy and it definitely wasn't some sort of beacon or the like. It seemed to come from some sort of...creature? Fuck, it was hard to see at this distance.

The noise grew louder, sharper, as the light drew closer. Hob's heart raced in his chest as the eerie sound soon filled the air. Tales the crew had told flash through his mind, stories of leviathans, of creatures belonging to the deep. Of mermaids and sirens, of life unknown and undiscovered. Of the rare sighting they were here to locate in the first place.

Hob reaches down, pulling the walkie-talkie off his belt. He clicks the button and raises it to his lips.

"Alex, you're gonna want to see this. Starboard side, up closer to the bow. And hurry. Think we may just have your mystery monster."

Seconds pass before his walkie talkie crackles to life. "Hob? What?"

"I'd get up here quick, mate. Whatever it is, it's not man-made. And it's glowing."

"Glowing? Paul, can you—...Okay, okay! We're headed up. Keep your eyes on that thing."

Hob clips his device back onto his belt and keeps his eyes trained on the rapidly growing bright spot amongst the dark seas.

The thing looks only a mile from the ship at this point when the strange sound coming from it quiets. And then there are footsteps on the hull.

Paul and Alex race up with Jo and some of the less science-more muscle crew follow close behind. Paul steps up, putting a hand on Hob's shoulders to steady himself against the rocking of the boat.

“Where is it? What did you see?” he asks.

“Paul…look.”

Hob and Paul turn towards Alex who stands against the ledge. He points out into the water where the red glow is beginning to dim. Paul gasps, waving to the others.

“Go! Go, hurry! We need to get that thing, toss out the netting now!”

The ship comes to life. People race about, orders are shouted, lights flicked on. Ropes are tossed around as the rigs are set up and ready. Hob watches that fading dot all the while. Its hard to tell from here if the thing is sinking into the sea or if whatever part of it that glows is simply…fading. Fuck. Is the thing dying?

“Sending!” One of the riggers calls out as the net is lauched out into sea. The lines of rope are illuminated in the bright ship lighting until they fade from view as they fall over their target. Then, that noise from earlier sounds off. It howls, calling out into the darkness as—Hob guesses—the net falls over it.

“The hell is that noise?” Jo shouts over the sound of machinery and waves.

“Dunno!” Hob calls back. “The thing was making a different sound earlier.”

“What kind of sound?”

“More…pained. I guess.”

Jo looks grim as she turns back towards the ocean. The crew call out to one another and the rig groans as the net is recalled. The chains and gears slowly clank. Rope and netting is hauled aboard, swirled in piles to the side.

“What the hell are you putting the thing in when we get it on board?”

Jo pales. She races towards Alex, talking into his ear. Its too loud as the winds start to pick up and the waves grow stronger. Hob watches as the two dart below ground.

The click-click-clicking of the gears rolls on. Hob backs up, giving the open area of the boat wide berth for whatever it is they end up hauling in. Paul's leaning over, calling out to the other biologists and scientists when Hob catches the words “I see it!” leave the man's mouth. Alex reappears, sans Jo, and races over towards Paul, shaking the man in excitement as the last few dredges of netting are hauled up.

And then Hob sees it. He sees the mass of wriggling black and red and white. He sees a mess of fins and scales. And he hears the deep, almost growling call that comes from the things mouth. Its…its human mouth.

The creature, whatever it is, struggles against the thick ropes as its lowered onto the deck. Salt water splashes over the boards, clinging to Hob's skin. He hears the wet slap of flaining limps and fins as the last of the net grows slack.

And then he sees hands.

Or something close to hands. The fingers are longer, sharper. Like claws dipped black. As the creature reaches out, trying to get traction on the slippery surface, Hob can just barely make out webbing between the digits. Alex and Paul step closer along with some of the others. He steps forwards and then freezes. Eyes, as blue as the ocean herself, pin him in place. The red glow fills his vision and then all Hob sees is darkness. He drifts off to the sound of shouting and a final, deep melodic groan from the creature.

He wakes up in his bunk. Or a bunk at least. His is normally the upper one but Jo sits to his left so unless she gained the ability to float, he's on one of the lower ones. Probably Matt's.

“You're alive,” Jo greets, setting her notebook down on her lap. He can just barely make out what looks to be field notes as he turns towards her.

“I am. What…what happened exactly?”

She sighs, pushing her bangs out of her face. “Matt carried you down here all freaked out. Said you'd passed out on the deck as the damn freak storm rolled in. Hell of a time to play damsel in distress there, Gadling.”

He chuckles, stretching his limbs as he does so. His body is sore, but not in any way that's out of the ordinary. His head aches a bit but not too terribly. “Any ideas what happened to me?”

Jo shrugs. “Dunno. Weird pressure drop from the storm fucking with you in combination with who knows what else. Rach took a look over you though. Gave you a clean bill of health from what she can do with you being passed out as you were. Said you should probably go see her for another once over when you woke up though.”

He sits up, nodding as he does. “Sounds good.” Flashes of the night before run through his mind. He remembers the black and red and white. He remembers fins and scales and claws and hands. And then he remembers those eyes.

“The, uh. The creature. Did you—”

“Get it? Yeah. You missed out on all the fun of figuring out how the hell to get it in the observation tank. Could have used your strength though. Thing weighed a shit ton. Had to use a hell of a lot of tranquilizer to get it to even stay calm and not flair about. We'll have to run more tests and cross-reference the sighting reports but I think this just might be ghe creature people were talking about.”

“What is it?”

Jo huffs. “That's the thing Hobsie. It shouldn’t exist at all.” She turns with a mischievous smile on her lips. “Things a bloody mermaid.”

The creature—and Jo was right. Things a bloody mermaid. Well…merman, he supposes—glares at them from its tank that is definitely too small for a thing its size. The part of it that looks human is about the same size to a normal person, though it’s significantly skinnier and bonier than most men. If it had legs, it looks like it could have been a high-fashion runway model with that narrow waist and sharp cheekbones. But, it doesn’t have legs. Instead, its got a giant fucking tail with fins and scales and everything.

Hob is definitely processing this world perception altering finding completely fine.

If merpeople are real, are unicorns? Bigfoot? Nessie? Fucking dragons?

Hob needs to sit down.

He falls into the folding chair by the wall, hands in his lap, as he watches the group of scientists flitting between their equipment, the tank, and back to their equipment again. They’re checking the water for lord knows what and currently seem to be trying to find a way to get a blood sample without the creature—man—merman thing attacking them with either its claws or tail or teeth. Christ, it has sharp teeth. Nearly took off poor Paul’s fingers when he tried to grab a water sample. Looked more like a monster from the deep than anything from the Little Mermaid.

Its skin was pale and it stared them all down with eyes black as the night sky. It’s hair—was it even considered hair?—floats off its head in the tank like the smallest, most dainty strands of kelp you’ve ever seen. Well, if kelp was pitch black, anyway. Gills protruded from its neck near the leathery looking fins and fans on its face. Its hands faded from normal-ish looking skin to inky black nails that could pierce as well as a knife.

Then there was this thing’s tail. If the upper half of it was something that should be played by Bill Skarsgard, the lower half was a thing of beauty. A dream and a nightmare mixed. Most of the scales were black, but caught the light with an iridescent shine. It reminded him of the tail feathers of the roosters they’d kept when he was young. Mixed in were sections of deep ruby reds, painted on the merman in patterns similar to koi fish. There were large fins on either side and down towards the tip, not unlike a betta or goldfish, but were currently tucked close to its body. It was quite a sight to behold.

And then there were the eyes. The one Hob kept trying to make a conscious effort not to look at but keeps finding himself drawn to. They're dark. Black like the night sky. And yet, he remembers the brilliant blue of them on that first night….

“Hob?”

He startles, whipping his head up to see Johanna standing off to his side with an amused expression. He sighs, placing a hand over his heart.

“Christ, Jo. Make more noise before you sneak up on a man like that.”

She rolls her eyes before nodding her head towards the stairs. “Walk with me?”

Hob stands, following behind her as they make their way up and out of the room with the impossible but here creature. Jo pushes the door open and they step out onto the main deck. The salty sea air hits Hob’s lungs. He takes a deep, shuddering breath and he realizes just how shaky he’d been down there.

“So.”

Hob huffs. “So? This the part where you tell me I’ve seen too much and have me killed?”

Jo just turns her head slowly to him, looking at him with her classic ‘you’re an imbecile’ face. “Nope, wasn’t planning on any murder today. But I did have a favor to ask of you.”

“Oh?”

Jo sighs, pushing her bangs up out of her face. “Obviously, we’ve a bit of a major discovery on our boat here. And, of course, I’m thrilled about it and I’m certain the rest of our crew here is too, but I also know that this whole things gettin’ funded by the Burgess family and, no hate to Alex, but I trust his father about as far as I can throw him.

“So, if that thing we’ve got down there’s got a brain like ours, I want you to try and befriend it cause there’s no way in Hell I’m letting Roderick Burgess get his hands on something like this. And if you can befriend it, then maybe we can get it to trust us enough to release it without having to use all the equipment and having people figure out what we’re doing.”

Hob blinks. This was...not where he thought this conversation was going. “What do you think the old man’s going to do?”

“Keep it trapped like some exotic pet? Try and eat it? Fuck if I know what those rich bastards like to get up to in their free time, but I’ve never heard a good story come from them when it came to keeping rare creatures in their possession. How many horror stories have you heard about those rich old fucks keeping tigers or crocodiles or other shit in their house?”

Hob huffs a laugh. “Not many, honestly.”

“Right, forgot. You like to live like it’s medieval England and newspapers and Twitter haven’t been invented yet.”

“Hey! I do use the internet, you know!”

Jo elbows him lightly as she laughs. “So, will you help me?”

He sighs, leaning back against the wall by the door. Jo watches him, hands in her pockets. Hob can say, with certainty, he’s never been asked to befriend a literal sea creature before. And he’s pretty sure that keeping one in a tiny tank isn’t doing them any favors either. But it’s Jo that’s asking. And she doesn’t ask for much, not for serious stuff like this. And he owes her a lot already, like this job, for one.

“Fuck,” he groans. “Alright, yeah. I’ll see what I can do. I make zero promises I’ll be successful, but I’ll try my best.”

“Good. And if that doesn’t work, come two months, I’ll just need your brawn instead to help haul the thing back to the ocean instead.”

“That thing weighs like a hundred and fifty kilos! I’m not that strong!” Hob cries.

“Better work on your fish charm then, eh?” she says with a wink.

Hob shakes his head. The shit he does for this woman.

“Right. Well, I’ll let you lot do your poking and prodding. I’m going to stay up here for a bit and just...process my future months for a moment, yeah?”

Jo laughs as he heads back down the stairs, leaving Hob alone among the sound of waves and the spray of the sea. He walks over to the ledge of the ship wall. He folds his arms and rests them and his chin on them, sighing as he watches the boat rise and fall on the ocean waves. The stars shine above him, land long gone from view. It's just him, this boat, this crew, and the fucking fantastical creature in the tank just under his feet. What the hell has happened to his life?

He stays there until the chill seeps through his jacket and into his bones and only then does he retreat to the safe warmth of the interior. He pads his way down the stairs and hallways until he's crawling into his bunk. As Hob closes his eyes, he drifts off to the thoughts of pale skin and blue eyes and a lingering fear of what it all means.

[phightingaus]

Heeeey, been a while since I popped in for a yap session.

Funnily enough this isn't a gear swap ramble, oh no no no. I GOT A NEW AU SUCKERS!!

It started with me drawing silly fusions of the phighting characters and then my brain said, "Hey we can make an au out of this." And so I did!

There's no story, it's more like an alt version of the Inpherno. Similar rules but a few differences. For example:

The Spawn works more like this: It takes two gears, doesn't matter if one or both have been used before and the inphernal spawned will have those two gears. The only rule is that there are no repeat mixes, so let's say there is an inphernal with a Skateboard and Sword gear. The Spawn wouldn't be able to create a new inphernal with those two gears until the inphernal dies.

Names: Instead of using the names of their gears inphernals pick a name they think suits them, mostly based on vibes and what they think is cool.

Anyway here are the characters I have in mind so far (not all are designed):

Agave: (Scythe + Vinestaff) Lone wanderer of Lost Temple and Thieves Den, while she isn't a part of the COTTE she does mercenary work for them. For a price of course. While to most she is an intimidating presence, to those that are close know her to be very kind but definitely snarky and a bit rude at times but that's part of her charm.

Sonic: (Coil + Skateboard and no not the hedgehog): Chill dude that's made his home in Playground, occasionally gets mixed with other gangs but he doesn't stay for long. Also he probably smokes weed.

Mal: (Medkit + Broker): Medic from TF2, they can and will steal your bones. Mal is short for "Malpractice" and they are 110% guilty of it. He is good at medical stuff, he just chooses to mess around and do things that most doctors definitely wouldn't do, that's how he lost their medical license. :P

Scourge: (Subspace + Darkheart): Menace to society, absolutely Bastard tm. They can and will curse you without warning and/or reason. Fun fact: I hc that Darkheart has four eyes like Windforce so all his fusions would have that design choice. Double fun fact: Scourge was spawned with three of his eyes on the left side of his face. But yeah, he's a bitch, not much else to say.

Frostburn: (Icedagger+ Firebrand): Very isolated, due to their contrasting elements their magic is very unstable. Their ice is unmeltable and their fire is unimaginably hot, because of this they stay far away from civilization in their tower. They don't mind because they're a massive introvert (just like me fr) but they do sometimes wish they could see other people purely because they haven't done it before.

Nova: (Rocket + Illumina): Overseer of Playground and honestly just done with everyone's shit, they don't interact with many other people and when they do they keep it short. Only one person has actually been able to keep a conversation with Nova but that's because they are a nosy little bitch that wouldn't stop bothering him.

Void: (Coil + Darkheart): The nosy bitch in question, he also oversees Playground but he's more like a local cryptid. Sometimes you'd see him sitting atop a building or in the corner of your eye, he very much enjoys messing with people but also keeps the peace by breaking up fights when they get too out of hand.

Lyric: (Valk + Rainbow (my OC)): Hermes from Epic the musical, gay little laugh and everything. Celebrity whose shows are always sold out, when they put on a performance they go 100% not much else to say but they are just Hermes.

Wave: (Boombox + Biograft): Literally N from Murder Drones, sweet lil guy that could absolutely kill you in a heartbeat but would rather not.

That's all I got so far, others I either haven't thought of lore and names for. :P

Oooo, I love this concept

Also glad to see another person who's both a MD and Phighting fan lol

[minniethemoocherda]

Iridescent: Chapter 31

A/N: I am so sorry that this chapter is late!! Usually I update on Sundays! And I've managed to update my Across This New Divide series once a week for the past couple of months! But I've been busy with a lot of other fics from different fandoms recently! Plus a lot of personal life stuff! So I'm going to have to go back to one a fortnight updates from now on! Updates will probably alternate between this and my SunnyBlue fic! Sorry again! Xxxxxxx

Ao3

FF.net

Prowl slowly came back online. For a moment, he was confused as to why the usual white of his ceiling was now grey.

Then something shifted besides him and Prowl turned his head to see Jazz's head resting in the crook of his arm.

Suddenly the memories of last night came flooding back to him and the concept of the Autobot Head Spy being asleep in his arms actually made sense.

Prowl realised that he had never actually seen Jazz asleep before. Previously Prowl had always fallen asleep first to find his fellow commander gone by the time he woke up.

But now Jazz was nestled into his side, a small smile on his face as his body rose and fell with soft intake of his vents. It was the first time Prowl had ever seen him look at peace.

Prowl managed to save the sight to his memory banks before the previously dim light of Jazz's visor blinked blue as his eyes presumably opened.

Jazz froze. His visor glitches white, apparently as surprised as Prowl to find that he was still here.

For a second Prowl thought the spy was going to bolt. Then a grin graced a his face.

"G'morning beautiful."

People had called Prowl many things over the years; a drone, a stuck up prude and an arsehole. However nobody had ever called him beautiful before. Prowl knew he must have been blushing like a inexperienced sparkling, but there was little he could do to stop it. Especially when Jazz stroked his servo down the side of his burning cheek.

Jazz shifted and Prowl's face flushed even brighter as he thought the spy was going to lean down to kiss him. Then he got out the berth instead.

Prowl felt an unexpected stab of disappointment. The past three instances confirmed that Jazz did not stick around. He should not have expected a different outcome.

He watched as Jazz searched through the draw across the room, waiting for him to find whatever he was looking for before he left. Eventually the spy picked out a bottle of energon, home brewed but thankfully not high grade otherwise Prowl would have to report him for day drinking. Jazz strolled back across the room, but instead of heading out his door, he crawled back into bed.

"You're staying?" Prowl asked, bewildered.

"Well this is my room." Jazz shrugged, holding out the bottle.

Functioning on instinct, Prowl took a sip. It was stronger than he personally preferred and silk smooth the way he knew Jazz liked it. Not sure how to process the unexpected outcome of Jazz actually sticking around, Prowl's eyes wondered around the habsuite. The last time that he had been in here he'd been a bit preoccupied trying to stay alive so he hadn't had the chance to look at it properly.

It was far more sparse than Prowl had imagined. Aside from the electro-base resting in the corner, it was practically empty.

Jazz must've noticed his eyes focusing on the base as after he'd had his turn to drink, he picked it up. Lying back down on the berth, Jazz idly strummed on the strings. Despite appearing to be plucking them at random, Prowl found the melody to be soothingly pleasant to his audials. Prowl knew nothing about music but even he could recognise that Jazz had a natural talent. He couldn't help but wonder what life Jazz could have lived with that talent if not for the war.

"Did you want to be a musician?" Prowl asked.

Jazz snorted.

"Everyone assumes that. Not that I can blame them. And if before everything went to shit if someone had offered me a recording contract I wouldn't have said no." Jazz paused his plucking, stroking a hand along the smooth metal of the instrument's neck. "Actually I wanted to be an actor. So I could be anyone but myself." Prowl watched as his grip around the instrument tightened. Personally, Prowl didn't think that Jazz was such a bad person to be. "I would be famous. And everyone would love me for it." He loosened it again as he let out another snort. "I suppose I did get get my dream in a way. Except instead of dodging paparazzi I'm dodging Deception blaster fire."

Jazz turned his gaze to Prowl. Even after everything Prowl had a hard time deciphering the look beneath his visor.

"What about you then? Why did you become a cop?"

Prowl could tell Jazz that he did it because he wanted to help people. That was the answer he usually gave. And it wasn't a lie. He did want to help others. But…

"I was born with a battle computer embedded within my processor." Prowl said, unconsciousness bringing a servo to the side of his head. He could feel the buzz of the bytes of the computer continuously firing under his skin. "Every day for as long I can remember it would run and run and run different scenarios over and over and over again about anything and everything that had ever happened." He scratched the side of his head, digging for an itch that never went away. "I thought joining the police force would at least put it to good use; to protect lives and keep it's endless outcomes occupied. And the enrichment of scenarios did stop my mind from breaking." Prowl brought his other hand up to his wrist, forcing his servo back down and once again fighting against the urge to rip out his own brain. "But no matter how many different options I would propose on how to fix our system to fulfil its purpose of keeping people safe. Those higher up never cared to implement any of them. Because they never cared about helping anyone in the first place."

That was why it hurt so much when people said he didn't care. Because for the longest time, he was the only one who did.

Even now, he couldn't stop running simulations on how many lives he could have saved if only those in charge had listened.

"You ever thought what you could be without thinking it through your battle computer first?" Jazz asked.

"I can't."

"Really? You never thought about being a musician?"

It was Prowl's turn to snort.

"Even if it was not for this," Prowl tapped his head. "I do not think I would have made a good musician."

"How wouldya know if you never tried? Here!"

Before Prowl could protest, Jazz had placed the base into his lap and Prowl quickly became preoccupied with not damaging it again. So much so that he didn't notice Jazz was now kneeling behind him until he felt the now familiar weight of his arms surrounding him.

Jazz's hands cradled his, moving one hand to the neck of the base whilst the other was held against the strings. Jazz placed his fingers until they mirrored his, and moved them against the strings. They made a simple strumming sound.

"Now you try." Jazz smiled.

Prowl moved his fingers on his own. Once again the strings strummed with sound. He did it again. It was the same outcome. Next time he did it slower, the sound instead coming out soft. He tried and changed and strummed, making as many different sounds as he could.

Prowl had no idea if any it was any good. But in the end it didn't really matter. Music had no logical purpose to it. It couldn't be programmed into a weapon or change the outcome of a battle. It wasn't designed to do anything physical. It was made to evoke a feeling.

To create something without a purpose other than to create was freeing in a way Prowl had never felt before.

Prowl glanced over his shoulder to find Jazz already staring at him.

Despite the fact that they had literally been inside each other, this creation of feeling was the most intimate experience Prowl had ever felt with another person.

"What if you don't need the whole world to love you?" Prowl asked, for once just doing instead of over thinking what he was about to do. "What if you only needed one person?"

"Like who?"

Prowl shivered as the musician's breathe tickled his shoulder.

Jazz moved his hand from the base to cup his chin, holding him the same tenderness he did his instrument.

Prowl glanced at his parted lips, as Jazz tugged them ever closer until he could taste their mingling morning breathes in the air.

"THIS IS OPTIMUS PRIME! DO YOU READ ME?"

Prowl bashed himself into Jazz's nose, completely missing the spy's lips, as the Prime's voice blasted over his comm. By Jazz's echoing wince, he too must've gotten the same message.

"Y-yes sir." Prowl replied, grateful that their leader could not see the state that they were currently in. He couldn't even look at Jazz who had dropped the hand from his chin to instead cradle his own dented nose.

"GO TO THE MEDBAY! NOW!"

[c0rrqpted]

Soooo.. another post-! 'sighs'

I got today plenty of time, so I'm doing mass attack with my art today, I'm in MANY fandoms AND fanart&ocs based on them are helping gain popularity...

I'm doing today this shit-!

I'M GOING TO DRAW ALL OF THEM, but I'm not sure if I can finish today

3/66