#editing will be the death of me editing anything makes me want to rip my hair out

[adaine-party-wizard]

finally submitted my mrp proposal… that was due in like. june. but it’s done now! finally!!

[ravengards-rogue]

WHAT SET YOU FREE, BROUGHT YOU TO ME BABY.

rdr2 men + short blurbs about their favorite sex positions.

ft. arthur morgan, john marston, javier escuella, and charles smith.

✧ tags : SPOILER HEAVY, fem + afab!reader, unprotected sex, light angst (in the horny post is crazy im sorry fdkjjkds), very gendered language, javier says one thing in spanish (thank u @nanamimizz), a little sprinkle of plot with each (and some canon divergency), john co-parents w abigail, otherwise just horny. 18+

✧ wc : about 1.4-8k each (6.3k total)

✧ a/n : sorry for making a multi character post for the cowboy game its cooking me to death. my john bias is showing rip. title is from rebel yell by billy idol but i listen to the bvb cover

sorry about charles and javiers but if i edit this anymore im going to level an entire city using hollow purple technique. please rb if you enjoyed i worked kind of hard on whatever this is.

sorry for . the THIRD repost of this i promise i wont after this. its just really bugging me. PLEASE

.𖥔 ݁ ˖˚☽˚｡⋆ ARTHUR MORGAN + PRONE BONE ; 

It’s an odd feelin’ for Arthur. 

Wanting something, he means. Wanting anything as much as he wants you. He’s lived a less than quiet life up until now. And he ain’t the brightest, certainly, but living this kind of life teaches you many lessons. One of them being, it’s better not to covet anything. Coveting something you’re not entitled to, well—it’ll lead you places you wouldn’t want to go with a gun. 

Arthur has made the mistake of coveting love before, dreamed of a future so completely out of his reach he almost convinced himself it was possible. Dreamed of it so foolishly he’d even go visit a woman he very well ought to forget. It’s his problem, his burden to bear - always desiring outcomes unsuited to him. 

He’s just that sort of man he reckons. But he learned his lesson. He tries (tried?) to stay away from it after that. Tried not to pine too much for normalcy when such hopes had failed him twice. The loss of his child completely on his account and the loss of his love at the same fate. 

So, wanting you - well, he feels like the world's dullest fool. Really. How is it that Arthur had fallen in love with someone again? It had all just happened so quickly. You were another woman he’d saved from the O’Driscolls, though it wasn’t like you were no damsel. A lot of those men were dead by the time they arrived. That sort of perseverance would stick with you while you traveled together. Much like Sadie, you didn’t take well to housework - you liked to earn your keep. Though you’re not nearly so trigger happy. 

You’re quiet, thoughtful, well-read. Plus you’re good at making money. That’s why Dutch don't complain about you joining them, he figures. 

(Arthur tries not to pry into it too much at first, but he eventually learns that you’re gambling. Which is how you’re able to make such a fast turn around. A prim little lady like you makes for a fine poker player, and you love to play men out of their money. He thinks it’s one of the funniest and most interesting things about you. He can’t help but love you a little more for it. )

When the feelings in him start to stir, Arthur tries to overlook it. Arthur convinces himself, time and time again - that there’s no way he’ll grow more tender about you. Eventually, it’ll die down. You’re a decent woman is all, a kind one - who’s easy for him to love and even easier for him to confide in. In your time together, you often come to Arthur and you always seem to have some profound wisdom he is so sorely lacking. Someone easy to love, who does not expect much from Arthur at all. It’s only natural a lonely, covetous man like him would start to dream about you. He tells himself, it will pass eventually. Should he simply let it run by him, it will pass. But Arthurs a fool, you’ll remember. 

 Of course, by the time he understood all that - he already loved you enough that he couldn’t bear it. It was already too late and it wasn’t going to change any time soon. Especially not while everything changed around him. 

So, Arthur is undoubtedly a fool, but he’s lucky. He felt divinely blessed when you’d returned his feelings for him so politely. A coy little smile on your face, a laugh like you thought he was silly for being doubtful. Arthur tried to explain himself but you wouldn’t hear a word of it. Maybe that’s another thing he loves so much about you. There’s nothing he ever needs to explain. 

In any case, all Arthur seems to do lately is want you. Wants you when it’s inconvenient. Wants you before he wants liquor or a cigarette or some other vice. Any time anything goes wrong, you’re the first thing his mind can conjure up for relief. That pretty smile and that self-assured way of living. It’s hard to get time alone in camp. And Arthur is a man in love, so any touch could be enough to set him on fire. Last week you hugged his waist a little before giving him a kiss goodbye and he had to listen to you laugh yourself into a fit as he waited for…little Arthur to settle down. 

He don’t get many chances to be with you. Lay with you in that way that grown folk in love do. Though, if the two of you book it somewhere for a few days - the camp knows better not to ask where you’ve been. But it’s not often you get to really be together, where it’s peaceful to do that. Someone’s always hounding one of you to do something. 

Arthur is a lucky man though, like he said. Today he had time. Today he’s alone with you in a beat up little saloon and today he gets to do as he likes. He gets to be greedy. And it’s an odd feeling for him, really, to want something so bad he disregards everything else in the world for a little while. 

Feeling you, though - absolves the guilt for wanting. He’d be stupid to want you any less desperately. 

Arthur’s favorite way to have you is on your stomach. Laid flat, just barely pushed up against him as he fucks you deep. You’ll fuck like rabbits for a little while and Arthur will wear you out just like this, maneuvering you until you’re pinned all underneath his weight. You lose any fight you might have, too exhausted to worry yourself with pleasing him - and when you’re like that, you let Arthur take care of you. 

(He really ain’t talented at much, but he’s good with his hands. Being dexterous is part of being a talented shot. When Arthur has the time to spread you sweet in his lap and make you cum all over his fingers, he does so for as long as he can. At least until you beg him so sweetly otherwise. The same hands, soiled with gunsmoke, look so good so deep in you. At least in his eyes.)

Wet and pliable and helpless. Arthur loves you like that. He knows, he knows you’re anything but - but he’d be damned to pretend this don’t feel best. Tight, wet cunt so welcoming from all the pleasure he’s ripped out of you. Your bodies pressed together, your heartbeat pulsing through your skin. All sticky, honeyed need and animal desire as Arthur lets all of him sink on top of you. His heavy, lumbering form crushing you in - trapping you somewhere you can’t run from him. The curve of your spine pushed against his chest, ticklish. 

Every inch of his body that so wholly wants for you, Arthur aches to make you feel. Burn it in you lest anything happens that risks your forgetting. 

He can feel his hips meet your ass, backside squished against him - desperate for deeper friction. Whining. You’re whining to him so pretty, a pillow pushed underneath you to give friction to needy clit. 

Arthur can feel how much you want more. Maybe Arthur is greedy, but he likes that look much better on you. Your pussy is sucking him in so tight, silken walls pulsing with every shallow little measured thrust. Arthur lets his arm wrap around your neck, your face pressing into his bicep. You moan again and he laughs. 

“Arthur,” Your words come out in a messy slur. He lets his scruffy face press against your neck, a kiss behind your ear. He wants to kiss you all over. There’s not enough hours in the day. “Oh, god, Arthur,” 

“Still feels good, then, I’m guessin’,” 

“Shut up,” You huff and press your cheek into his arm. He doesn’t bother stifling his laugh. “Still feels…big. Stretchin’ me out—hicc—so much,” 

You really don’t try to rile him up - but you do a damn good job of it anyway. He groans, grunts as he pulls back and pistons himself in you. A gesture half-way between a kiss and the warning shot of a gun. The sound of skin hitting skin echoes, noisy and vulgar. Arthur don’t pay it much mind. He laughs against your shoulder.

“One of these days, that moutha’ yours is gonna get me in real trouble.” 

You giggle back at him 

“What kinda trouble is that now?” 

Even from your side glance, you’ve got that lovely little smile on you. Fuckdrunk and ingratiating, like you know he’s wrapped so tight around your fingers. And he is, like nothing else in the world could have him. A wave of possession curls up over Arthur, makes him press more of himself into you. Onto you. Another deep push of his cock, sliding against the tenderest parts of you. Staking some silent desire in you. He wants and wants and wants, and hopes that whatevers above him can forgive him for making the same mistake thrice. 

“Dunno,” Arthur comments, teeth grazing your shoulder and kissing the indentations “Got our whole lives together to find out, I reckon.” 

“I’ll hold you to it, Mister.” 

Arthur laughs. “Hope you do, Miss.” 

.𖥔 ݁ ˖˚☽˚｡⋆ JOHN MARSTON + COWGIRL ;

John doesn’t say that he loves you lightly. 

Hardly a thing he says can be said that way. Could never afford too. In an alternate universe where nothing goes wrong in his life, maybe - but he has a hard time picturing what the hell that’d look like. A version of himself so untainted, without all of the violence and blood and gunsmoke? Foreign. John can’t picture it worth a damn. 

Who John is without a deadbeat father and a dead Ma is somewhere far beyond his reach. Ain’t nothing about his life, at any point, lighthearted. 

On top of all that mess, he’s got a boy at age four with a woman he ain’t married too. And that relationship is always on rocky waters, even though John’s decided to do right by his own flesh and blood sometime ago. Most things in the world he should feel good about he doesn’t, and most things he should understand render him clueless. He’s a mess on multiple accounts, and he still doesn’t know how exactly he’s meant to approach this life of his. He knows what he should do, but nothing about how to do it. 

John doesn’t come to love you easily ‘cause he wouldn’t know easy love if it hit him in his face. Quickly and painfully, but not easily. 

Your return to the gang was an odd one. You were an old presence and your disappearance was an even older story. John thought he’d never gonna see you again for sure. You’d been a part of the gang back long before all of the nonsense that took place in Blackwater and you left about the time Arthur’s boy died. John don’t remember why you left exactly. He thinks it was a fight with Hosea, of all things.

 Dutch weren't too happy about it neither, but Dutch back then didn’t make a show. 

So you left, and John buried every feeling he ever harbored. You found all them again up in Colter, where you’d been living out your days lately. According to you, in the middle of riding, you thought you’d heard Arthur. So, somewhat recklessly, you went chasing him. Didn’t matter if he was just something your mind conjured. According to you, if it was him, it was at least worth checking to make sure. You’d reunited with Arthur and after some tears, he rode with you back to camp. 

Upon your return, the gang welcomed you with open arms. 

You’d done a lot in your time alone.You spent most of that time just like that, a ghost wanderin’ the planes. You weren’t gonna stay with ‘em, but Arthur insisted and Hosea did too. That wasn’t enough to compel, so John was last to chip in. You should stay, at least until Valentine. 

(Silently he thought, you should stay so John can trace memories of you. It was so long ago, he should’ve forgotten all of it. You were a year older than John and always on his ass but easy for him to talk to. Didn’t fuss over his failures. You just barely grew into your womanhood when you set your sights on running away. You wanted more than this life, and John never really forgave you for it. His first heartbreak, maybe - but it’s all too blurry for that. 

You understood him though better than anyone, and one day you were gone. Nothing’s really the same.) 

You changed tremendously and not at all. He missed you. God, did he ever. Missed you a long time. Didn’t realize how much until you came back and everything in him felt right again. Your return stirred up old feelings and everyone noticed. He wasn’t trying to keep it a secret, but he really wasn’t trying to fall back into anything with you. Not how he did. 

Just like you did back then, you read John like an open book. And just like he did back then, he loved you all too helplessly for it.  It was just all too easy again, to be with you. 

You stayed out of the way at first, for the sake of his family. 

But, John ain’t a half-decent man even when he’s trying to be. So he set himself on being with you. It wasn’t easy - most things with him aren’t as you’ll see.  Having you around again straightened what was left of his common sense, at least. He told Abigail before telling you. He figured you wouldn’t even reply unless that was all out of the way. That turned out as well as you’d expect.

 It was settled between the two of you thereafter. He’s lucky she didn’t toss him into the street. 

Everything works out in a way. As best they can between broken people. You make peace with each other. His boy loves you like a third parent (you’re better with him than John is). Abigail commends you for straightening out such a worthless man though she’s a little melancholy.  John just tries to stay out of the way. You’ll be together in the end. There’s a plan with the five of you. 

But until it all falls apart, he doesn’t get all that much time with you. 

There’s moments like tonight, though. Rare ones. Together out robbin’, cooped out some place in the woods where no one is around. A place so shaded by nightfall that John can absolve himself of every sin he’s ever committed in his life and pray at the altar between your hips. John is convinced he might find worship like he’s always hearing about there whenever he touches you, the marred skin of his hands and knuckles reading the scripture of your body with careful precision. 

You might turn him into a literate man yet. 

John glances up at you. Only the light of the fire and the moonlight there to accompany as he watches you over him. You’re beautiful. John couldn’t picture a single thing more perfect in his life. 

Your hands against his bare chest, nails digging into the flesh as you lean forward. Your palm dug into the dirt, John finds his own hands rested at your hips. John looks at you awe-struck, cock twitching at the mere sight. His heart settles in his throat, but he’s calm all at the same time. With you, he forgets. All of it. The worst of himself. 

Bare naked and so close, he watches your face as you strain. You feel soft. Every inch of you in comparison to him is. A bead of sweat slides down the valley of your breasts. John cranes his neck up to catch it with his tongue, licking a stripe up to your neck - letting his teeth sink into the space between your jaw and neck. You want to make it last and John doesn’t blame you. It’s so rare you get to have each other so unrestrained. John can feel all the ways you want him, can see it in your face - all pinched with need. You’re holding yourself back, trying to get it to last as long as the night will allow. It’s cute in a way.

It’s different than how he’s used to seein’ you, all cocky or otherwise. You’re needy like this. Just needy. His stomach turns with lust, jolting through him like a strike of lightning. His cock twitches against your folds, sliding against them. Pure admiration watching the sticky mess of his pre-cum and your own arousal mix together and smear on your mound. You make a soft noise in the back of your throat, faint and tender as you fall forward just a little. John laughs against your neck. 

“Darlin’,” He says with a huff. Not malice. Something akin to bliss, where he can rarely afford it “Have I done something to piss you off today?” 

You pick yourself up and look down at him and frown. John kisses the corner of your mouth, resisting some crude desire to fuck up into you. 

“Just,” You grunt as the tip of his cock passes over your throbbing clit, your whole body wracking to a shiver. John looks awed. “Pent up. Goddamn it,” 

John figures it out quickly after that. It’s this part of it he likes. The proximity. The closeness. Feeling the tremble in your hands as they struggle to keep up right, muscles strained in your forearms. Being able to hold you, to keep the pace or let you take the lead. The clear view of your face as pleasure travels up through your spine and melts into you. He grabs your hips, the fat dimpling underneath his fingers as he moves you along. He can’t wait. You don’t bother to protest seeing John can’t seem to bear it anymore. You collapse into his chest, your tits pushed flat against his pecs.

His cock throbs near painfully, sliding against your soft cunt before finding himself lined with you. He thinks to himself that it’s this he was looking for, as he tucks your face against his neck and lets his tip stretch you out slowly. Such a vice like grip, stretching - resisting him like your whole body can’t anticipate the sensation of fullness. You gasp against his throat. 

“John,”  

What a sweet sound from your mouth, even sweeter as he bucks himself up. Keeps you steady and lets his cock stretch you full, feel you deep. “That’s right, my angel. Didn’t think you’d remember my name when you’re all worked up like this.” 

“You’re,” You gasp and John thrusts, thrusts hard until he’s buried to the hilt. You shudder, walls pulsing around him as he bottoms out and John laughs like the terrible man he is. He fucks you again, over and over - a wicked little smile watching “Awful. Just awful, John Marston,” 

“Ain’t that the truth,” He hums against your mouth as his hand snakes between your bodies, thumb rubbing against your clit. “Wonder what kinda woman that makes you,” 

“A foolish one,” 

John laughs. 

“I sure do love you for it,”

.𖥔 ݁ ˖˚☽˚｡⋆JAVIER ESCUELLA + SIDEWAYS ;

Javier hasn’t thought about much other than surviving. 

It’s been like that. Been like that for a while, probably much longer than he cares to admit. He’s sure any sane man would suffer the same plight if they lead the same life. Anything but survival is little more than a pipe-dream, so Javier tries not to go for anything too strongly. In that aspect he’s like many of the members of the gang he’s in, perhaps that’s why he sticks to them. There’s that phrase Hosea’s always saying - that misery loves company. Javier will take any decent company he can get.  He’s desperate for it just like he’s desperate for most things - inwardly, silently. 

Some of that desperation may be symptomatic of who he is. After he killed a man in a crime of passion for a woman he loved and ran from a government who would sooner exile him than change, Javier decided to not dream anymore. Every revolutionary who dreams too hopefully pays the price in blood.

(Javier thinks there’s probably nothing in the world as true as this. A form of gospel. He remembers the first dream he ever had after his uncle passed. Not a nightmare but a dream. He remembers the exact feeling of waking up, cold and confused. What is a dream, except a memento of survivor's guilt that loyal people cling onto fruitlessly. When hope starts to feel like a debt he’s going to waste his life paying back, Javier loses sight of everything. The beginning of the end in some way.) 

His mind doesn’t occupy itself with anything bigger than that. Since Dutch found him starving, there was never a desire to try and live off aspirations. He pays his penance with loyalty and honor. Practices some form of humility and tries, not too desperately, to carve a place for him to fit. All without drawing too much attention or caring too much. If you ignore the bleeding in his fingers, his penchant for knives over guns, and his refusal to talk too long about the place he comes from - it’s nearly believable that none of it matters. 

Except loyalty. All Javier honors is that. It’s the only thing he has some part in choosing, so he choses it every time. Living like that didn’t make any difference to him. He was surrounded by mostly decent people. He didn’t hate the life he was living. 

It wasn’t important. It didn’t matter. His directionless-ness, his floating. Hadn’t since he joined the gang. At least not to anyone but him. He didn’t know what he’s meant to do or if he was meant to proceed with this forever. He was (is)  loyal to Dutch. To the gang. 

He hadn’t thought much about what comes after. 

And it didn’t matter until he met you

He’d sworn off love after seeing where it got him, at least until he could love more dispassionately. When the women bring you back from their outing from Valentine and beg Dutch to let you stay, Javier doesn’t think much of it all. He thinks you’re pretty, if it counts for anything. But he doesn’t let himself linger on you too long. 

But that’s the sequence with you two, really. The whole time.  He doesn’t linger until he does. It doesn't matter until it does. He doesn’t think about you until it’s all he can think about. 

You go for him first. And it’s in little, unimportant ways that might not mean shit to you but mean a whole lot to him. You have some kind of tenderness about you that you wear deep, runs through your blood like love ran through his once long ago. Some softness he can’t really measure with his own. It’s not that that gets him. It’s that sometimes you look at Javier like he's … someone you want to see. He forgot what that was like all together. It felt foreign to him the first time it happened. Seeing how you light up when Javier is around. 

You wanted to see him. You noticed that he’s gone. If he sang by the campfire - you’d sit by him and listen.  If he was out in the trees keeping guard, he’d hear the soft call of your voice to Grimshaw ask Where’s Javier? And sometimes the girls will make fun of you - but you wouldn’t deny anything they said. It’s so small and ordinary. He would’ve never considered himself simple before meeting you. Nothing is simple. Nothing. 

(But then, Javier thinks of the kinds of songs he sings and the way he takes care of himself and the clothes he wears and maybe Javier has some kind of affinity for preciousness that explains all of it.) 

When Javier confesses his feelings for you - he finds the affair to be like most things between you. Ordinary love, not really between outlaws but people. It’s up against a tree while you share a drink and he’s looking at the curve of your mouth and the plum color Karen’s so kindly put on you. And his head fills with kissing you so he does. A breathless confession between alcohol stains and the feeling of your hands curled in the lapels of his suit. 

From there, Javier is your lover. He’s not interested in the business of secrets, but he tries not to let it show too much. Not that he doesn’t want to. He wants to show you off more than anything - at least some part of him does. But the other part wants to keep you away from prying eyes, keep his love for you only where the both of you can see. If he could keep that pretty lovestruck face you make all to himself forever he would. 

When he gets a chance to whisk you away from everything, Javier jumps at the chance. Not often, but Javier makes time for you. Makes time to indulge in love he thought he’d  never find again. 

That’s why he’s here with you in the middle of nowhere, a ghost town where no one knows you.. A reserved room with a bed and lowlights all to yourselves. 

Javier can’t keep his hands to himself and he doubts you expect him too. 

For Javier, this sense of proximity is what intoxicates him most. The warmth of your bare skin in the slivers of yourself exposed. Javier is fond of finding you like this after a long day of horse riding. Of sneaking touches to your waist as you push back against him to sleep, only to find his desire for you - laid clearly. He likes hearing you whimper feeling his length poke against your back, the embarrassment when it dawns on you that he wants you after all. Always surprised, even though Javier tells you it so often. Whispers it along your neck and shoulders whenever you’re at camp together.

You like the feeling of his hands so Javier always starts with them. He squeezes your hips. Planes his palms over your chest before squeezing your chest, pushing the fat between his fingers. You like the way  they look when they grope you, his chin resting against your shoulder as you spoon. In the lowlights of a cheap hotel - Javier gets the perfect view of your silhouette. Your body is sensitive over the fabric of your gown, heat prickling through you. 

Javier who is always so gentle with you, rouses so deep listening to your whining as he explores your body. The suffocating closeness of a single bed intoxicates him. 

“Javier,” Your voice is sweet and thin. Plays in Javier’s head like music and makes his mouth curl up into a catlike grin as you push back on him.  You look slightly over your shoulder, lips pushed into a pout. “Please,” 

He tugs at the fabric of your nightgown. The top half pulls haphazard underneath your tits, nipples perky and sensitive to touch while the skirt pools at your waist. What gets Javier like this is the desperation. Wanting so much but not being able to look too long. A way for you to mirror him, it’s a matter of possession. In some stupid way. Bunching your clothes up, pushing the fabric of your panties to one side, letting his arm wrap around your waist to touch and tease.  All of these are imprints of his longing, tucked faithful into your side as he whispers sweet nothings into your skin.

His cock twitches as it pushes past your folds with finality, your hands curling up at your sides.  You whimper softly, let your cheek rest against the sheets as Javier takes you on your side. Terribly close, you fuss as you feel him slide every inch into you slow, your hands reaching back for purchase. It’s the fit of you against him so perfect, the silent strokes of intimacy, the hush-hush giggles between the sheets that Javier loves most about fucking you like this. Too enamored with you to look too closely, he lets his eyes flutter closed. He could get drunk just being in your space. 

He carves out space for himself inside of you, feels your cunt accommodate for him like it loves him. A feverishness breaks out as his forehead rests on the space between your shoulders, an uncharacteristic whiny quality in his words. 

“Ser mío,” Javier says - as a reflection of what he really wants, to belong only to you. “Belong to me.” 

Darling as you always are, you nod softly. 

“All yours, Javier,” You whimper, finding his hand. “Forever,”

.𖥔 ݁ ˖˚☽˚｡⋆ CHARLES SMITH + MATING PRESS ; 

Wandering. 

He’s been doing it his whole life. Not something he’s proud of. Or ashamed of either, really. Just how things have gone for him until now. Charles doesn’t think his life has been any better or any worse than anyone else's. At least not when he weighs it with the same kind of pragmatism he does most things. It’s been a hard life, and a miserable one in so many ways. Still, it’s not something Charles is too keen to dwell on. 

There’s just something thematic about loss in Charles' life in a way he finds completely unpleasant. It’s more constant than anything. Loss of his home, loss of his mother, loss of his father in an attempt to find what’s best for him. It’s some overarching message that hangs over his head like a shadow. Everywhere he goes, trying to rectify his own solitude seems to come back to him. It doesn’t help that it’s an unfair world to start with, and would’ve been if he had just been black or just been native. But Charles is both, and has lived a life that reflects that specific injustice thoroughly. 

There’s not really anything Charles can do about it, at its baseline. When he left his father, the name of the game had simply been survival. He was well-equipped enough for that at least. But after survival comes trying to live and trying to live isn’t something so simple. Jumping in and out of gangs who thought they could get away with slighting him or generally being surrounded by unpleasant people. Trying to find something in pages of book and scripture, or in the way water ripples when it rains. 

He’s never felt any one way towards the gang. Even when he joined them all the way back in the Grizzlies. Lost in the cold, they’d crossed paths as Charles was out hunting. A lot of it feels like a blur. Of all the folks he’s met in his travels though, Dutch treats him fair and the rest of them (or most of them) are decent, honest folk. Charles stays in the Van Der Linde gang for such simple reasons as trying to stay alive and be somewhere that isn’t actively hostile towards him. He’s a good gunman, and a better fighter. The inner workings of gang politics and forging connection isn’t at the forefront of his mind, with the exception of the kindest few. 

The Van Der Linde gang is just a place where he can figure out what his purpose is meant to be, even if he doesn’t find it there. He’s never expecting anything to come out from his loyalties to it. 

Of all the things Charles expects of his life in the Van Der Linde gang, love is at the very bottom of the list. 

Maybe it’s about time he stops being surprised by these things happening to him one or way another.

 You were a member of the gang far before him, and someone Charles took to quickly. You’d joined the gang not too long after John from what Arthur tells him. Though the brunette speaks about you more fondly than he does his brother. A problem child at the start, according to Arthur - always getting into all sorts of trouble. Something you seemingly feel embarrassed about now and refuse to bring up. Charles has a hard time picturing it having only known you as you are. 

The woman you’ve grown into is someone else completely, and Charles sees that in you all the time. Compassionate like Hosea but charismatic like Dutch, and clever. And you’re beautiful, too, though Charles feels a little shallow admitting that’s part of what drew you into him. 

It wasn’t Charles that approached you first. You were the one who spoke to him, as often as you thought necessary but never in a way he found invasive. He doesn’t know what it is exactly about you that charms him near instantly. You’re enigmatic to a fault. It’s like you always know exactly what to say and exactly when to say it. Even more than that, you’re a terribly pleasant person to be around. Subtly warm and free of assumptions. When Charles talks to you about anything, you listen without making him feel like it’s any sort of burden to you. You don’t pry, don’t make missteps. Treat him fair, and then some. 

It’s unbearably simple, just how quickly and how easily he comes to adore you.  And, in some ways, Charles knows better than to believe that his purpose is loving someone. There’s more to it than that, surely - after everything. 

But then, he’ll watch you do something. Watch you do some kind of menial work that he could do for you instead. Thinks of skinning animals for new clothes and chopping wood and rubbing the soap off of you and all of a sudden it makes him feel anchored. Everything he could do for you. You anchor Charles easily, with a wispy smile. Make him want to find purpose in life with you. He never wants to be somewhere you’re not. 

He confesses it to you just like that, and like you do with most things - you accept and reciprocate without making too much of a fuss. 

For Charles, making love is an extension of wanting to ground himself in you. A distant siren song - the intersection of lust and bone deep adoration. Like most things, you’re the one to approach first every time. A soft hand on his forearm, a whisper that you want him. It’s with ease that he draws you away. Drags from you camp during nightfall with his horse and blankets and picks a spot with the perfect view of the stars. 

Charles watches you under the glow of moonlight, his vision adjusting to you easily. Naked underneath him, laid on your back with your legs folded at your knees - heaving deep breaths. He can see the sweat beading down your skin, your chest rising and falling - and the perfect view of your pussy. His hands and mouth are wet as you breathe out. He finds himself smiling at you, his own erection pressed against your thigh, pre-cum leaking out in a mesmerized haze. 

You lift your hands up and he leans down, surprised as you wrap them around his neck and pull him closer to you. Your mouths meet like that, and Charles laughs against your lips as you kiss him so eagerly. You blink at him, pretty. You’re always prettier than he remembers you being the last time he looks. 

“Charles,” You frown at him. “It’s impolite to keep a lady waiting,” 

He kisses the corner of your mouth. “Sorry, my love. I don’t want to hurt you,” 

“Well, I’m fine with it,” You repeat, almost petulant. Charles frowns. “‘Sides, it ain’t my first time taking you, you know?” 

“Well, I’m not fine with it.” 

You pout, looking at him all endeared. Charles couldn’t help but love you even if he tried. “You ain’t gonna hurt me. C’mon. Please?” 

“Please, what?” 

You look at him aghast before breaking out into a faux-scandalized giggle. “Now you—please fuck me. Pretty, please.” 

Charles feels something tickling against his spine hearing you say it. He couldn’t imagine getting sick of you in his whole life.  “Yeah, that’s good to hear.” 

You make an indignant noise but it’s silenced quickly as Charles positions himself against your entrance. He has plenty of discipline when it comes to matters like these, but right now - he feels like he’s going to lose his mind. Not nearly enough patience to wait. He lets his hands go up underneath your knees just to have something to hold onto. 

You make a little gasp as the tip of his cock pushes into you. Your walls are so soft, likely after all the orgasms he’d given you prior. You stop him in a shocked gasp, and Charles immediately readies himself to pull out. As if sensing his hesitance, you shake your head. 

“Charles,” You gasp, the words caught in your throat and hoarse “Deep. Want it deep,” 

His abdomen tightens, cocking twitching hard at your words. He agrees silently to your desires. 

When it comes to sex, there’s very little Charles dislikes.

But this is his favorite. He’s simple but no other position lets him see you so close. He likes the way your eyes widen as he pushes up underneath your knees and folds you underneath his weight. How you look pinned down under him, the perfect view of your eyes rolling back into your head and the proximity from your face to his. He lets his cock stretch you out slowly, throbbing each time your nails dig desperately into arms trying to keep your composure. Fuck you feel so tight like that. Soft pussy, dripping and sticky. You suck him in relentlessly, and Charles groans as he bottoms out. You take every inch of him so well. So perfect like the rest of you. 

Your eyes flutter open as he stays there, buried in you in complete bliss. You’re dazed. 

“Kiss?” 

Surprise followed by adoration, he abides by your request easily. Overwhelmed with it as he presses a chaste peck to your mouth, he laughs. “As many as you want.”

Anything you want, Charles thinks, he would give to you. 

.𖥔 ݁ ˖˚☽˚｡⋆

[yandere-yearnings]

Know Me Like the Devil Knows My Sins (Loser!Yandere x GN!Reader)

feat. genie's loser yan

♡ oneshot, approx. 1.5k words

♡ post-specific warnings: yandere themes, implied kidnapping, violence, strangulation, implied death

♡ a/n: thank you to @moyazaika for letting me write abt his oc, loser yan!! genie, if you read this, pls ignore the fact that my characterisation sucks ass. this was over 3k but i went back and cut out the waffle bc there was a lot of it lmao, so ig it's technically edited, but not proofread.

♡♡♡

This basement was cold. 

Heated blankets and warm meals, however many times a day they were brought to you, didn’t change much. No windows or light for even a semblance of passing time, all you had was the annoying draft that skimmed through the door at the top of the staircase — the one you weren’t allowed near. You wouldn’t have been able to escape even if you wanted to, not with the chain around your ankle. For as free as he tried to make you feel, the heavy metal was a constant reminder that there was no liberty in his love, if it could even be called that.

You were waiting for his return, less because you wanted to and more because it was the only thing you could do other than read the books he’d given you. They were all your favourites, from the stories your mother used to read you as a child to the ones you’d pick up on your way home when you’d grown up. At first, you’d found the thoughtfulness of it endearing, feeling seen and understood and catered to. Somewhere, kept within his walls, you didn’t blame yourself for becoming as delusional as he was.

How could you enjoy anything anymore, with no one to share it with?

Each new day that passed, every page you would read and read again, only accomplished you in realising the loneliness that coiled around you. Second by second, growing larger than your life had been before this. Soon, your loved ones would stop looking for you. Soon, you’d be considered dead — and in death you would be all his. You knew that was what he wanted.

You had made yourself comfortable on the vulnerabilities he presented to you, in the way he shook when your fingers stroked his skin, his shudders at your calling his name. That was all too good to be true. If you had actual control in this, he’d have surrendered to you long ago. You’d been testing it. Playing mind games, pushing limits — he’d shut you down quick, then cover the shrewdness in his eyes with a bashful smile. You were no fool, and clearly he wasn’t either.

Your bitterness surmounted with the echoing of locks clicking open. There wasn’t a need for as many as he had placed to keep you here, you weren’t sure you could even run anymore. You hadn’t used your legs in so long. He’d surely catch you. He’d rip your throat out like he did in your nightmares. You had no faith you wouldn’t become another layer of red on the white paint surrounding. Perhaps you should’ve been thankful, if fear were to be a knife, he’d certainly dulled it for you — slinking in, shoulders slumped and looking as meek as ever. Really, from the first glance, he didn’t look like he could hurt a fly.

“Darling…” there was that tone, demure, like you could do anything to hurt him from your place on this filthy mattress, your place on the floor as he stood above you. Towering. This entire thing felt like a sick joke. You’d once considered there being a chance for you. Hope crumbled just like he did, to his knees to look into your eyes. “I missed you so much today, my love.”

You blinked at him. You knew where this was going.

“I mean- I miss you every day, don’t get me wrong!” Sheepish laughter, twitching fingers — all signs of his wanting your validation. “I just… I couldn’t stop thinking about you, not at all. Work has been so hard, and you’re the only thing I can look forward to truly and- and I really, really wanted to come back home quickly and ask if you’d...”

His sentence trailed off, and it took all you had to suppress the urge to roll your eyes. He wasn’t very creative, that much was obvious. You’d initially chalked it up to some cute sort of performance anxiety that he experienced because he wanted to come off as appealing to you. Now, it had begun to dawn on you that he was simply struggling to keep up the pathetics. As you curled your digits into his hair, as you tugged him closer and let him muffle his weak moan into your neck, you wondered why either of you were bothering anymore. No audience except for the earwigs that crawled about, no one who’d watch this stupid, repetitive show.

“I’ll hold you,” you whispered, tired enough that even your dishonesty could be mistaken as gentle. “I’ll hold your heart. Don’t worry. I know.”

You could feel his lips on your skin, chapped, scraping where he tried to formulate words. You were sure he too felt this warring between the both of you, this constant fight, teasing superiority, challenging who would take the reigns in this sombre dance. Bored out of your mind, anticipating when he’d get tired of you — but you were his infatuation so that could never happen.

“Not enough about me,” he breathed, “my sweetheart, my entire world, you wouldn’t know what I’ve done for you.” His hands dug into your waist where they rested, gripping flesh over fabric like it would give him warmth. It wouldn’t, because it was freezing in here.

“Won’t you tell me?”

Quiet laughter. “You’d be scared if I did.”

“I already am.” Your words made him pull away, made him peer at you with those eyes. You held his gaze. “I already am afraid of you. I already know who you are. Tell me anyway, since-”

“Since you love me.” He interrupted you, finished your sentence with words you had not been planning to utter. He didn’t say it tentatively enough; gave himself away with that and the severe expression on his face that his hair did not hide. It was a shame that now wasn’t one of your better days, lest you’d have heeded the silent warning.

“Since I can’t leave,” you corrected. No energy for even a single ounce of regret, none to even whimper at the violent pressure of his grip on your collarbones.

Sometimes, he’d come to you with blood caked under his fingernails. Sitting there like he was sinless, mouth running for hours about you in every way he could. All your likes and dislikes, all your habits, all your life — as if you didn’t know yourself. Again, those lips were moving, spitting at you like it could quell the anger you could see bubbling beneath the surface.

Your perfect person, he spilled descriptions like the ideals you once had were his intimate study, asking you why. Why wasn’t he enough even though he’s everything you’d ever wanted? When he’d made sure of it? Your chance to answer was taken by lithe fingers on your neck, but if you could, you’d have told him that at its core, it was just that every desire you had, looked like something disgusting on him.

“Sweetheart, this isn’t like you, c’mon,” his words came ringing, buzzing, an entire choir of metal scraping metal underwater, your world spinning and head pressed back into the mattress too fast to stop him from climbing on top of you, “don’t deny your feelings for me.”

Your eyes rolled back and his hold on you only loosened a fraction. Staring at the dark inside your own skull, gasping breaths through bruised tissue. You thought you heard knocking, and surely it’d be death at your door if you didn’t backtrack now, didn’t tell him what he wanted to hear, like you had been until you’d lost yourself in your own lies.

Survival instinct should’ve kicked in, but then sight and sound returned to you, and you accepted that you wouldn’t be the hero in your story. You’d get yourself killed, yet, how could you love a man that loomed over you with eyes on fire? He’d burn you up to make it through the winter, and find another once your ashes were blown away.

Even if it made you a villain, drowning in the blood pooling from your ears, you owed yourself your last rasp to him. “I hate you,” broken and choked on tears cutting through the numbness. Your nails clawing everywhere you could reach, on this bed of springs that felt nothing like the one you so desperately wanted to return to, you mourned all you were losing. 

Limbs going numb — salt — you’d never see home again.

When under constant observation, there’s only so much one can conceal about themselves. He knew that well. From the pictures of you in his gallery and the endless notes with your name repeated over and over and over — he’d chosen to obsess, and you were forced to, and you became his mirror the longer he kept you. Going mad, crazy, insane because his was the only face you could remember anymore.

You knew his moods from his scent and his needs from his touch, you knew him to the heart of the blank slate he’d always been, you knew him rooted carnally to you because it was the only thing grounding him. He hadn’t needed to tell you anything really, and you didn’t need to push. You knew him like the devil knew his sins.

And he’d take you to hell for it.

[milliumizoomi]

Hi, I was thinking Armando Ateras x Reader. So let’s just say that Reader is half human and half vampire and she controls her thirst but she still needs to feed but the hospital is closed down. When Armando came home, he noticed that the house is completely quiet and he saw Reader on the bed back turn and was breathing heavily. He walked towards her and he noticed that her eyes were brown and dark and has dark circles under her eyes and he asked what is wrong and told him that she needs to feed but the hospital is closed down. So Armando offers her to feed off from him but she says no quickly but still lets her feed. :)

𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐁𝐈𝐓𝐄

☆彡SUMMARY.; You’re so thirsty, and yet you can’t take the help he’s offering.

☆彡FEATURED.; ARMANDO x HALFVAMP!READER

☆彡TROPE.; ESTABLISHED RELATIONSHIP

☆彡FORMAT.; ONE SHOT

☆彡GENRE.; SLIGHT CRACK + ANGST (if you squint) + FLUFF

☆彡WARNINGS.; Mentions of Blood, Mentions of human testing, Child Abandonment, Mentions of Death, Biting, + Mature Language

☆彡NOTES.; Thank you sooo much for the request and I’m sorry it took so long, it took me 3 days to edit this🧍🏽‍♀️,, it was kicking my ass fr but I had fun writing it since I don’t think I’ve ever written something like this before. I hope yall enjoyyyy!!🥰🥰

REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED🧛🏽‍♀️.

🎧FOR THE BEST EXPERIENCE, YOU CAN LISTEN TO SORROWS by BRYSON TILLER🎧

Death.

So this is what this dreaded thing feels like.

It had felt like years, centuries even you’ve been at home feeling pain beyond what you believe to be normal.

Put it simply, you’re thirsty as shit and the only thing that you can drink to ease it a little you have nothing of.

Blood.

With you being half vampire and all, it’d make sense that’d be the only thing you can even think of drinking.

The backstory of you being or becoming a vampire is definitely not a pretty one. You were tested in from an early age. Your shit parents sold you off for a couple grubby dollars because they could. They just didn’t want to take care of you, so what better way to get rid of a kid than selling her off right?

God bless the world now though because they’re dead, and they never get to bring another kid into this world. It took years of being prodded, poked, scanned, and lasered until Miami Department came and got you out of there. Only the people on this mission was even aware of your situation and what exactly you were.

Your situation was made top secret, which meant not many should even know you’re the person rescued from this place. Only the people in the mission, which was AMMO, and the captain, that was it.

That being said you had to be kept in a facility for a while to be monitored before they let you go. They didn’t want to risk anything so they had to make sure you were good to go to be let out. And with you being so top-secret, that meant you had to stay in a place with someone that already knew your secret. Marcus decided to take you in, after many, many… many talks with Mike. They made sure you got what you needed and you even got the chance to integrate back into society.

However, this isn’t the matter at hand right now.

With this all being said, the fact was that you were not full vampire. With that in mind, this sheer thirst you have for blood right now is absolutely ridiculous. You’ve never had this problem before.

You don’t even know why you’re feeling like this in the first place.

You were usually able to control yourself, control your desires, your urges, your thirst. But now, it felt like you could rip the walls off hospital just to get inside for even a drop of blood.

Stones felt like they were piling higher and higher into your neck.

You were so fucking thirsty.

It had been god knows how many hours, close to about 2 days since the hospital closed down and you could feel the hot sensation of burning in your insides, along with fatigue and pain all over your body. You could curse the damned hospitals for putting you through this. You could control your thirst, you knew you could, but for some reason these last couple days, you had been completely insatiable.

And the people who could help you right now had been gone for almost a week. One of them being your boyfriend of 11 months.

Armando.

You had met him at the department, where you usually had to go for routine inspection of the state of your body and your abilities. He had been let out of jail for sometime, and with him being on AMMO, his father informed him of your situation.

Apparently he trusted his son with your secret.

He was weary of you at first, but that quickly died when he saw how you carried yourself. What led him to become so drawn to you was your raw strength and mental fortitude. He was impressed (and partially terrified) not only of your speed and strength, but also your ability to keep your thirst for blood at a minimum.

Granted nobody else in the world was like you.

Still though, he half expected you to react in the ways he’d seen vampires in movies would, unarticulated and flat out greedy for blood. Your personality is what sold him though, but that’s a story for another time.

Right now, the man you were currently silently begging to come home was nowhere to be found, as he was busy on a mission, and only god knows how long it’ll take him, or anybody else who knows about your situation to come back, You wanted him to be back so badly so he could just hold you as you went through this, not wanting to be alone. You were laying on your side, back facing the door and breathing so hard you were feeling severely lightheaded, even when laying down.

The after what felt like another hour had gone by, you heard the front door open and could’ve screamed for joy if you weren’t so damn thirsty and borderline passing out.

“Baby..?”

You heard his voice as his smell was enough to make you feel like you could get through this.

Armando, on the other hand, was on it.

Immediately, when he neared the bedroom after putting his stuff down, he could already sense something was wrong. When he saw you laying on the bed, back facing him and breathing hard, he immediately was on full alert.

He came over to you and slowly turned you over in your back, trying to assess the state you’re in.

“Mama? Talk to me, tell what’s wrong, what do you need?”

You looked at him, barely able to form words, you were just so out of it. He noticed your usual brown eyes were so dark they were border-lining black now, and under your eyes were dark circles. You looked like you haven’t slept in days.

“Mama talk to me please.. I need to know what to do to help you..”

“..thirsty.” You barely manage to answer him, practically gasping as the single word left your mouth.

“Where’s your blood baby? You don’t have any more?”

You shook your head no. And you already knew what his next question would be, so again, grasping at straws for the words to rip themselves from the back of your burning throat, you managed to say, “..hospital’s closed.. can’t get more..”

He tsks at the information you just told him. He quickly kicks off his shoes and climbs onto the bed, lifting your head slowly to rest and on his lap as he brushes your hair, trying to find anyway to alleviate the pain he knows you’re in right now.

Judging by your state, you could very well die without getting blood somehow, and of course he could go get it for you, but he doesn’t want to leave your side.

He can’t risk that.

“Mama vamos... bebe el mío, no puedo dejarte así...”

At this point, you felt like your head was splitting and your ears were ringing, so you swore you had heard him wrong. You gave him an incredulous look, which he picked up on. “Baby I’m not kidding.” Quickly, but carefully, he pulled your body up so you were in a position where you were sitting in his lap, face facing his.

“You look like you’re about to pass out, you need to drink some of mine, now.”

You shake your head immediately. Weakly, you respond, “Hell no.. I’m not doing that. I’m not gonna hurt you.”

“No te lo estaba preguntando.”

He shoots you a look, and if you could, you’d muster up the strength to roll your eyes. You swore you’d never drink directly from a person, it just felt so wrong to you, wrong to even think about. It would make you feel less human, and it already took you months to start ingesting blood.

“Woman drink, now!” Still being stubborn, you didn’t budge. So he had to take matters into his own hands. He guided your head from the crook of his shoulder to look at him.

“Listen to me mama.. I can tell you’re fucking exhausted and tired, so I need you to listen to me and drink, I’ll be damned if I lose you to your stubbornness. I’m not playing with you. Drink.” You start shying away from the intensity of his gaze and words.

You knew very well what you not listening to him would do. Sighing, you sucked it up and looked at him, nodding. He leans back a bit and takes off his shirt, then cranes his neck to one side, fully surrendering himself so you can start the process.

You swallow nervously, the dry feeling scraping at your insides. Slowly, you lean closer, your fangs slowly growing as your face draws closer to his face. You stop momentarily, not sure if you want to go through with this. “Go on baby, está bien..” he rasps, rubbing your back gently.

At his reassurance, you come close enough to his neck and open your mouth, your sharp fangs coming into view and bite down. He groans at the intrusion, his body momentarily tensing at the feeling.

You on the other hand felt as if you were in pure bliss. The sounds you were making at the taste of his blood would have the neighbors sharing some questionable looks. You felt so energized, and you couldn’t get enough. His blood felt like crack to you, it was so addictive. Armando swore it would hurt more than it did. It felt.. pleasing.

He liked it.

Maybe he should let you do this more often.

Finally, you pull back from him, dazed. He too is a little whipped from the situation. He holds the back of your head as you pull back, studying your face. Your eyes were already beginning to glow, reverting to their original color. “¿Mejor?” You nod yes, bringing a hand up to wipe the access blood and the corner of your mouth. Your body had felt like it was buzzing with pure electricity.

It felt so much better.

“See.. that’s why you need to listen to me mama.”

You nodded in agreement. “Yeah I know.. thank you baby.”

He smiled at you. “De nada, mamá...now can you wrap this up for me so we can shower?” Gesturing to his neck.

You laugh a bit and smile. “Sí, vale.”

[GLOSSARY]

“Mama vamos... bebe el mío, no puedo dejarte así...” —“Mama, let’s go... drink mine, I can’t leave you like that...”

“No te lo estaba preguntando.” — “I wasn’t asking you.”

“. . . está bien..” — “. . . it’s fine..”

“¿Mejor?” — “Better?”

“De nada, mamá. . .” — “You’re welcome, mama. . .”

“Sí, vale.” — “Yeah, okay.”

ミ★

{TAGLIST} :: @armandosbabymama @ghettogirly @tinys0ftie @shurisgf @radioloom @butterflyybabe @dyttomori @nuggetnat888 @yeahnobyehoney @urbanlovestory || if you’d like to be added to the taglist just let me know in comments or dms🤗💕.

ミ★

©2024 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED — MILLIUMIZOOMI. Do not modify, repost, plagiarize, translate or claim any work posted on this blog without my permission.

[mrpldiddles]

puppy. | j.drysdale

a/n: so i actually started this this morning before the trade was announced😀 but here’s a quick(ish) little ig edit since i haven’t posted anything in awhile while i work on the tbosas fic that will be coming soon!!

rip trevjamie tho man idk how i’m gonna recover this is like barzy and beau all over again

anaheimducks posted:

anaheimducks: we have a four-legged announcement on #NationalPuppyDay! everyone say hi to Daisy!

comments:

user1: can we talk about jamie with daisy🥺

user2: trevor and jamie look like they need a dog

-> yourusername: don’t encourage them🤧

trevorzegras: @yourusername 🥺🥺🥺

-> jamie.drysdale: @yourusername please🥺🥺🥺

-> yourusername: are you gonna take care of it🥺🥺

-> trevorzegras: YEAH

-> yourusername: LIES you don’t even clean up after yourself

-> trevorzegras: HEY

-> jamie.drysdale: she has a point z…

-> trevorzegras: DON’T TAKE HER SIDE JIMMY

-> user3: this is so entertaining

jackhughes: @yourusername just let them have a puppy

-> trevorzegras: PUPPY! PUPPY! PUPPY!

-> yourusername: you live across the country jack you don’t get a say in this

-> jamie.drysdale: PUPPY! PUPPY! PUPPY!

-> colecaufield: but look how excited they are🥺

-> yourusername: cole you’re not even in the country

-> masonmctavish23: puppy???

-> yourusername: oh god not you too

-> trevorzegras: i promise to put it in direct sunlight and water it everyday🫡

-> yourusername: oh my god

-> jamie.drysdale: he’s joking! (i think…)

-> yourusername: you two are gonna be the death of me

-> trevorzegras: so PUPPY????

yourusername posted:

yourusername: @trevorzegras @jamie.drysdale puppy.

comments:

trevorzegras: PUPPY!!!

jamie.drysdale: PUPPY!!!

masonmctavish23: PUPPY!!!

colecaufield: PUPPY!!!

jackhughes: PUPPY!!!

_quinnhughes: you’re weak

-> yourusername: i know😞

yourbffsusername: how much did they pay you

-> yourusername: a year’s worth of cleaning the bathroom for trevor and a year’s worth of back rubs from jamie🥰

-> trevorzegras: i still think the difference in payment is unfair

-> yourusername: you may be my boyfriend’s boyfriend but you’re not mine

-> trevorzegras: 😞

anaheimducks: a new friend for daisy!!

-> yourusername: that’s what sold me on little miss maisie☺️

-> trevorzegras: for the record i wanted to name her nutter butter

-> colecaufield: NUTTER BUTTER🥜🧈

-> _quinnhughes: are you trying to ruin the poor dog’s life

-> jackhughes: i call for a re-vote between maisie and nutter butter

-> jamie.drysdale: y/n says no

-> yourusername: i’m not naming my child nutter butter.

jamie.drysdale posted:

jamie.drysdale: everybody say thank you @yourusername :)))))))

comments:

trevorzegras: thank you y/n!!!!!

colecaufield: thank you y/nnnnnn

jackhughes: thanks best friend y/n

-> yourusername: i think that title actually belongs to quinn

-> jackhughes: ouch

-> _quinnhughes: thank you best friend y/n

-> yourusername: you're welcome quinny

masonmctavish23: thank you y/n for making me an uncle

-> yourusername: ofc ofc

-> user2: aw mason’s her uncle🥺🤧

yourusername: you're lucky you're cute

-> jamie.drysdale: don't i know it

-> trevorzegras: and what about me???🥺🥺

-> yourusername: you're lucky your boyfriend's cute

-> trevorzegras: i'll take it!!!

yourusername: our maisie girl🥰

-> jamie.drysdale: my two girls😘

-> trevorzegras: our nutter butter😊

-> yourusername: your godfather privileges are so close to being revoked zegras

-> masonmctavish23: the dogfather

-> yourusername: you're next in line don't worry mac

-> trevorzegras: after that joke??!!!??

-> masonmctavish23: i'm committed what can i say

trevorzegras posted:

trevorzegras: welcome to the family nutter butter!!

comments:

yourusername: that is NOT my daughter's name

-> trevorzegras: OUR daughter

-> jamie.drysdale: something i wanna know??

-> yourusername: jamie please tell your boyfriend that our daughter is not named after a cookie

->user1: their family tree is so confusing

jackhughes: NUTTER BUTTER!!!

-> _quinnhughes: and you wonder why you weren't named godfather

-> jackhughes: y/n is this true😭

-> yourusername: thanks for breaking the news for me quinn

-> jackhughes: wow🤧

-> yourusername: so sorry😐

colecaufield: is it still too late for a name re-vote?

-> yourusername: yes.

-> trevorzegras: still up for debate

-> masonmctavish23: is it too late to claim my godfather title?

-> yourusername: please do i can’t take them anymore🤧

-> trevorzegras: you can pry my title out of my dead hands😤

-> yourusername: promise😍

-> jamie.drysdale: don’t tempt her z

anaheimducks: daisy and maisie duck!!

[shesnake]

have you seen the monkey man directors cut? i bought the blu ray when it was released and it contained an alternative opening/ending and deleted/extended scenes. (which def seemed the be the ones they cut to try to get it shown in India) idk if anyone has posted them online yet or anything. but i definitely wanted to hear your takes on the previously unreleased scenes

hey! my copy arrived yesterday and I just watched them. honestly not a fan of the alternate opening, it takes a lot of mystery out of the kid's identity. the closing is just the same montage edited a bit differently through the ruins of the club, I prefer the theatrical edit better.

the deleted/extended scenes were SO much more political and explicitly critical of the bjp. the vagueness of Universal/monkey paw's final cut has always frustrated me, so it's good to confirm that dev did originally intend to go even more in on hindutva fascism, islamophobia, and more voice to the hijra experiences. the death in police custody scene hurt a LOT. I also noticed there was a bit more sexual violence, which doesn't change much for me really.

sorry I just took photos of my tv as I was watching bc I got the 4k and I don't have a drive for my computer that can read it (so I can't rip it to make gifs... Sad!!) but this scene had me screeching:

god I wish they hadn't been such cowards and just let dev put his movie out without sacrificing something so powerful.

I'll watch it with directors commentary sometime soon.

[bigassmoonchild]

Ghost

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Reader

Word Count: 3.1k

Summary: Simons body was back, but he wasn't really Simon. No, it was Ghost inhabiting the shell of Simons body, but even Ghost seemed to recognize you. Either way, there were days left of him being able to come back, and you didn't want to grieve your mate twice.

Content Tags: Angst, Hurt/No comfort, Medical Inaccuracies, Made Up Medical Shit ab Omegaverse, Not Quite Simon, Ghost and Simon are different people, Mentions of Violence, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha! Ghost, No Use of Y/N

A/N: I'm spoiling y'all again with more uploads <3. I hope you guys enjoy this chapter! Fun fact, these take me about two hours to write, but they're not beta-read or edited. As always, content is under the cut and my asks are open!!

Part 1 | Previous, Next | Headcannons, Masterlist

"What are some probable ways we bring people out of ferality?" You asked the squad standing around you. They were a few days out from graduating and at this point you were just filling time. None of them said anything, lookin around at each other. You sighed deeply.

Trip raised her hand and you stared at her. "Scents?" You blinked slowly, waiting for her to elaborate. "If we can get him a fresh scent of some packmate or a person he's especially close to then it can get him a focus point," she explained. You hummed.

Turning to look at the whiteboard you'd started with different plans to get Simon back, there were a few options you had. "The only problem with that, Trip, is that it could cause death," you whispered. The whiteboard had streaks where you'd erased and rewritten things.

Scent. Medications. Time. Death.

You sighed deeply, still thinking over anything else you could do. If you forced suppressants into his body, it would decrease the hormones in his body but the question was focusing on how to get them in him.

There weren't aerosol sedatives, he had ripped off the bindings that they had used to get him in the cell in the first place. 'What's wrong with him?' Price had asked. All you could do was shake your head, not legally able to explain anything. Fuck HIPAA.

Doctors, civilian doctors, had come in and started to try and take over. Even the doctors above you were fighting, because he wasn't a civilian. All they wanted was to use him and figure out how to bring a person out of ferality. Especially an Alpha.

"There are several ways we can fight ferality, but none of which have proven to do them well," you explained, looking around at everyone. There was nothing you could feasibly do, you knew. Similar to rabies, it wasn't something that anyone really came back from.

You sighed deeply. "Attempts have been made, but none of them came through. With too much time in ferality, a persons brain begins to shut down. We don't entirely know why, it hasn't been able to be studied, but there is very little we can do," you had to look away. "Either way, you work your hardest to ensure comfort," you had decided to add that at the end.

All you knew was that you needed to make sure he was comfortable. You knew your mate, you knew he deserved that at the very least. A knock on the conference door brought everyones attention as one of the civvy doctors walked in.

"You'll need to go in there," he told you. Shaking your head in confusion, you looked at him. "If he can recognize your scent, you'll be able to get sedatives in him. You'll be able to help us make him the first survivor," he whispered. Excusing yourself, the two of you moved quickly through the halls to make it to his cell area.

Standing in front of it, watching him stare at everyone through the balaclava, you felt your heart breaking. This wasn't Simon. It was Ghost. Blinking slowly, you listened to the hustle and bustle around you. It was like looking at him for the first time again. A man you didn't know, but was intrinsically connected to you.

With a deep sigh, you looked around at the doctors around you. "I may be his mate, but he won't recognize my scent," you whispered. "I'm pregnant, and we all know that changes someone scent," a few murmurs came from some of the doctors.

Looking away, you glanced at Ghost once more.

"I'll do it," you added.

They had you change into clothes he interacted with you the most in. So you wore your sleep clothes, just something you'd been wearing the night before. With the sedative slipped up your sleeve, the door outside the cell was unlocked.

"You know what to do," they told you. The plan wasn't all that concrete, just get in there and stab him. Very good plan, one of the best you'd ever seen. God, you wished Price had been allowed to format the whole thing. He might have a backup in case things went south.

Stepping through the now unlocked cell door, you took a quick glance back at the doors blocking your escape. Looking through the cell, Ghosts eyes were on you. Unblinking, the eyes you knew were gone. Blacked out, his pupil dilated so wide.

You didn't make eye contact with him other than the quick glance, keeping your head bowed down to try and remain as small as possible. If you weren't seen as a danger, he might not attack you. Might.

Movement brought your eyes up, seeing him standing to his full height and move to you. Slow but still graceful. You could see his face twitching, watched his chest heave with each breath he took. He was scenting you and you allowed it.

Closer, he grew closer and leaned his head close, you could hear the heaving pants as he drew your scent into him. Ghosts head dropped against your neck, pushing your head to force you to bare it to him. You could feel his nose nudging against you, feel his hands grasp at your arms and tug you closer.

You could almost feel tears filling your eyes, thinking back to the past two or so months filled with grief and eventual relief. A huffing grunt came from Ghost, almost displeasure at your scent changing. He tugged you with him, dragging you over to where he'd been sitting for the last few days.

Pushing you to sit, he stood over you. Your eyes opened, looking up at him and feeling the tears finally fall. A groaning whine came from him, his wide eyes glancing around to find something to cheer you up. You knew his thought process, you'd seen ferality in people before.

Only once had you seen it in him.

Ghost dropped next to you, tugging you into his lap and holding you close. He began huffing at your neck, pressing his scent out around you to try and soothe you. It seemed your scent was almost soothing him as well, allowing him a reprieve of the stress and fear over the last however long he'd been away.

God, how much you had missed this. The two of you didn't talk much, but you soaked this in as much as you could. His scent swirling around you, the feeling of his hands and arms wrapped tightly around you. You could feel yourself relaxing, felt the press of his head against yours.

Deep breaths brought his scent into you, albeit not being strong from where you were pressed into his chest. You could hear his heart thumping strongly against his chest, a true showing of his survival.

Pushing your hands to the back of his neck and shifting, just a little, you felt your throat choking around sobs. "'m so sorry," you whispered to him and he made another grunting whine at you.

You pressed the syringe in his neck and he jerked, but you were able to push the plunger all the way down. He whined against you, grabbing you tighter. Over the next few minutes, his grip slowly waned.

His body relaxed fully under you and you could feel the tears sliding down your cheeks begin to pick up. Stuffing your head into his neck, you inhaled deeply. Leather, tobacco and little hints of his own musk. God, you missed it, but the civilian doctors were flooding the room. Pulling you away and injecting him with different suppressants.

They dragged him away, forcing him out of your line of sight. You felt similar to how you'd initially felt when receiving his tags. Numb, like you were watching everything happening over a television.

Alpha is back.

You found Price waiting for you, just outside the medical center the doctors had dragged Ghost to. "How are you, Doc?" You fought the tears, feeling little hiccups coming from your chest.

"I don't know," you looked up at him. "I never thought I'd be able to see him again, but it's not him," you whispered. "That's not my Simon, that's Ghost,"

You knew when Ghost woke up, hearing the snarling roars coming from his chest. The suppressants hadn't worked, but he was still set to be pumped full of more in the next few days. The doctors found you sitting at the front desk, rubbing your face.

"Come with us," they said and dragged you to Ghosts room, where his snarls and roars quieted down to growls. As you sat beside him, placing your hands on whatever you could reach his growls quieted into little huffs and grunts.

You pressed yourself as close as they would allow you to him. "I missed you so much," you whispered and his head whipped around to look at you. His pupils were still so dilated, but you could make out his eye color just barely.

His eyes were always so pretty. You sighed and dropped your head to look down at the ground.

"It's been so long," you choked out. "So, so long," he looked at you, nearly blankly. God, you hoped that somewhere in that stupid head of his he could hear you. "Been almost two months, you wanna know something?" You asked, lifting your head to give him a weak smile.

All Ghost did was blink at you, slowly. Almost like he was listening, you noticed. His heartrate was dropping closer to normal rates, blood pressure dropping little by little as the minutes wore on.

"I'm pregnant," you gave a wet laugh. "I found out not too long after you left for your mission, and y'know what?" He didn't respond, but you could see the dilation of his eyes shifting just barely.

Looking away and swallowing thickly, all you could do was give little sobs.

"God, I missed you so much," you sobbed out. "When they gave me your dog tags that one morning, I didn't know what to think. I was so numb for so long but Price knocked sense into me," you choked another wet laugh. "Just like how he would do with you," you whispered.

"Pups," he whispered, staring at you. Your mouth gaped open, staring at him. His voice was rough, gravelly. It sounded like he either hadn't talked in months or had been screaming his voice out. "Pups," he whispered again, hand moving before getting caught by the handcuffs.

"Oh my god," you whispered. You lunged to get closer to him and heard scrambling at the door. People surrounded you and tugged you away, dragging you out of the door but you could hear it. His heartrate increased severely, and you could assume his blood pressure was skyrocketing again. "Stop!" You shouted, writhing against the people dragging you away.

There was a large snarl from Ghost, you could just see over everyone his writhing form as needles were stabbed into him. The door closed just as his head shot up and you could catch one last look of the fear filling his eyes. Hands tugged you away, pulling you from the area.

"No!" You still were screaming, not even realizing what you were doing. "Please, I need to be there!" You fought against the hands that pulled you further and further from the room.

"You can't," it was Price. "You can't be there, they need to be able to work on him without people in the way," he whispered to you.

"I was getting through to him, Price," he shook his head. "He spoke to me," you whispered, tugging him closer to you. "All he said was 'pups' before they dragged me out," Price looked away.

He sighed deeply. "We know," he said. "We were listening in, but you need to understand something," he made you look at him. "That isn't your mate anymore," he whispered. "He's been feral for too long,"

"No," you shook your head. "No, it's going to be okay," you whispered. "They still have a few days," you looked away. "They can't give up on him,"

Price looked away. "They're giving one more push of suppressants," he told you. "Giving them a few days, they're going to use you to help bring him out but if this doesn't work they'll need to keep him comfortable until the end," you couldn't look at him.

You weren't going to look at any of these people, how dare they give up on him so quickly? For minutes on end, you sat near Price, just waiting. For what, you didn't know, but Price wasn't allowing you to leave.

Minutes dragged into hours. Just like the hours that stole your last moments with Simon before he came back as Ghost. Minutes that you could've been in there with Ghost, comforting him as they did things to him.

He wouldn't know what was happening, his mind was too preoccupied with survival. You couldn't stop hearing his one word replaying in your mind, the recognition you now could see in his eyes. The door opened but you didn't look up, doctors came out slowly but surely.

Feet stopped in front of you, where you'd been staring at the ground. "Ma'am?" The voice whispered above you and you finally looked up. "You can go back in, now," he whispered. You knew that in the few lucid minutes a feral person had were the few minutes when more medicine should be pumped into them.

You had never expected the fear that would fill the lovers when this type of thing happened. When you were still training, you had never expected fear to be combined into others. You had no words for what you felt as you walked back in the room and saw Ghost snarl at you, his eyes no longer filled with recognition.

Sitting where you had been, you gazed over the Alpha. Blinking slowly, you moved your hands to where they had once been sitting, not so many hours ago.

"I miss you," you whispered to the Alpha. "God, I missed you so much," you could see his chest heaving with breaths, nearly see his mouth dropping open under the balaclava to allow more of your scent in. You sighed deeply.

Looking around you, the room was so bare. Something you would only use to describe hospital rooms. It hurt, knowing your Alpha was stuck here. Somewhere you weren't allowed to help.

"The rest of the pack have been helping me out, y'know," you smiled softly. Make this as normal as possible, you told yourself. "Soap's been joining me at my appointments," you looked down at Ghost. "Gaz has been making sure I take care of myself, and Price is doing his best to help during the night," you choked out a laugh.

You hear a soft little hum come from Ghost. His eyes were filling with recognition, little by little. Leaning towards him, you tried to catch his eye. They were dilating, his heartrate slowed.

He hummed again and you looked away. "I need you to come back, Simon," you whispered to him. You looked up at him, gazing over what you could see. His eyes, moving quickly around the room and grazing over you before moving away.

A deep sigh came from you and you sat there with him, watching the clock slowly tick as time carried on. Neither of you said anything and you watched as his eyes slowly drifted shut. You could feel the exhaustion slowly settling into your body, from the different emotions you'd been sent through over the last few days.

Standing up quietly, you let yourself out of the room. With one more look back, you watched the Alpha breathe slowly in his sleep. Closing the door behind you, you found Price.

Gesturing for him to follow you, the two of you slowly made your way to your office. When you unlocked the door, you sat yourself down in your chair and watched as Price closed the door behind him. He sat in front of you, lighting a cigar.

Quiet. For a few minutes, it was just quiet outside of the drag of his cigar and the soft breathing between the two of you. "He's home, Doc," he whispered. "Simons home,"

"It's not Simon," you looked at him. "That's Ghost. My Simon is not sitting in that bed, it may be his body but it's not him," you responded sharply. He looked away from you, sucking at his teeth. You blinked rapidly, trying to get the sleep out of them.

You sighed deeply, rubbing your hands over your face as you looked around the office. The one place where you and Simon had grown so close, the one place where the two of you had found peace.

"I've spent the last however many months grieving," you said. "I've grieved the life of my mate, and now he's back but it isn't him. That isn't my mate," you whispered, giving a short pause. "I can't grieve him again, Price, it'll destroy me," he reached over and rested his hand against yours.

He gave a little smile. "You won't have to grieve him again," he said. "The way he's progressing is making the doctors very happy," you gave a short laugh. "He could be the first case of survival through ferality, and you were the key to it," he told you.

For another few moments there was silence. Neither of you spoke, but you could see the pity in his eyes. Closing your eyes, you just breathed, still faintly able to smell Ghost albeit the scent becoming stale.

"I just need my Alpha," you whispered. "I need him back. I don't care if it means I fight an entire group of Doctors, they can't just kill him, Price," you opened your eyes and looked at him. "They can't just kill him," he didn't meet your eye.

"It's getting late," Price told you. "I think you need to go back to your room and sleep. Now," you didn't look at him, allowing him to guide you to your room. When you entered, he gave you a grim little smile before closing the door behind you.

Now that you were alone, you had no idea what to do. Your Alpha was just a few minutes walk away from you, but you wouldn't be able to enter that room again. They'd close down the medical center from visitors, even with your access as a doctor they wouldn't allow you to enter the room.

Crawling into your cold nest, you laid there. Shirt pressed to your face from where you could still faintly smell Ghost when he'd held you. Closing your eyes, you could almost feel his arms wrapping around you. You could almost smell him right there, right next to you.

And that's how you felt asleep, dreaming of your Alpha wrapping himself around you and making sure you knew everything would be okay. Even you didn't believe it.

Next

Taglist: (i did not realize that the tags didn’t work woospies)

@sae1kie @shinebright2000 @zechie-spams @itsmadamehydra @smiley-roos @enrapturedbythemoon @stargatenovus @cowboydisaster @404lunar @josieguts @actorryswife @the-queen-of-england183 @littlelovebug98 @cringeycookies @averytiredfanfictionwriter @kariiiel @caramlizedtomatoes

[pangborns]

I Think I’ve Seen This Film Before.

sejanus plinth x fem!reader.

in a last ditch effort to challenge his friend’s beliefs, Coriolanus puts you in danger.

warnings: tbh anything for the movie, angst, death, reader is hanged. lmk if I missed anything pls. (I know this is sooo short and tbh not edited at all, but I just wanted to post for my bby Sej)

His fingers dug into your cheeks, forcing you to look at him as he snarled at you. “Enough of this foolishness.” The blonde spoke through gritted teeth. “You’re going to tell Sejanus to call off the plan.”

Your eyes hardened as you tried to rip your head from his grip. “I will not.” Your gaze softened as you grabbed his other hand, “Coriolanus, come with us.” The pleading didn’t seem to get you far.

He laughed, humor lacked the gesture but he finally let go of your cheeks. Fingerprint sized bruises started to show under the candlelight.

You could still hear the beautiful voice of Lucy Gray performing in the next room over. And you suspected Sejanus was just starting to wonder where you had run off to.

Coryo wiped his hands anxiously up and down his dirtied PeaceKeeper uniform. He started to pace around the small room, hand now running through his recently buzzed hair. “I don’t want to have to do this.” He spoke.

“Do what? Coryo, you don’t have to do anything.”

Coriolanus chuckled, his Adam’s apple bobbing as sweat was now visible on his brows. “Call off the plan or I will have you arrested, (Y/N).”

Your face paled. The sound of song from outside was no longer comforting as all you could hear was your own uneven breathing. “What?” You spoke breathlessly.

“Don’t make me say it again.” He seemed torn. “I will do what I must to ensure my best friend does not become entranced by your ideas of treason.”

You took a step back, arms wrapping around yourself in comfort. You shook your head, tears starting to roll down your flushed face. “No, no I won’t.”

Coriolanus’ jaw ticked as he looked up at the ceiling, reaching for the handcuffs attached to his belt. “Turn around and put your hands behind your back.”

The walk through the tavern was a blur. Your face was a deep red, the images of other District 12 citizens watching as Coryo escorted you out were burned into your brain. Lucy Gray’s song came to an abrupt end as she took in the scene.

“(Y/N)!” Sejanus hopped from his seat on a bar stool and ran over to the pair. “What’s going on? Coriolanus?”

“Sit down, Sejanus.” Coryo spoke quietly.

“What are you doing to her?” Sejanus grew angrier. “(Y/N), honey, are you okay?” He grabbed your shoulder, halting the duo as he looked you straight in the eye. A shy tear made it’s way down your cheek, being caught by Sejanus’ calloused thumb as he now cradled your face.

Coriolanus roughly maneuvered you out of his friend’s grip and out of the rickety building.

••

“They’re going to hang me, Sejanus.” You spoke softly, accepting your fate as you rested your head against the metal bars separating you and your love.

“That’s not going to happen. I won’t allow it.” Sejanus’ jaw ticked as he stood straighter, set on putting a stop to this. “Is Coryo involved in this?”

You hesitated, but that was enough confirmation for the boy. “He-“ You stopped yourself, thinking your next few words carefully. “He knows, Sej. After me, you’re next.”

Sejanus swallowed, eyes widening. “He wouldn’t do that, not to us.”

“That’s what I thought.” Your voice cracked, sliding to a seated position against the bars. He mirrored you, leaning his head against where yours sat.

The two of you breathed in a comfortable silence, basking in each other’s presence before Sejanus made a move to stand. You looked up at his frown before joining him in his stance. “PeaceKeeper duties?” A small laugh.

Sejanus confirmed with a sad smile. “I’ll be back right after, I promise.”

And he was gone.

••

Cold tears drenched your puffy face as two PeaceKeepers dragged you through the crowd. You knew there was no use in fighting it, but your rebel heart couldn’t deny itself the effort.

You successfully elbowed one in the jaw, causing the other to spin around and knock you in the stomach. Your breath was immediately gone, leaving you gasping as other District 12 citizens watched on.

A familiar face. Lucy Gray.

You managed eye contact with the songbird. She knew who did this to you, you made sure of that. As the girl opened her mouth, making a move to stand up for you, you quickly shook your head. You weren’t going to drag anybody down with you.

Eventually you broke through the crowd, being met with the sight of the ominous wooden platform.

“(Y/N).” A broken whisper.

You looked up, meeting Sejanus’ eyes. He seemed to be stuck in a state of disbelief. Tears collected on his waterline, but refused to pour over.

The PeaceKeeper’s grips tightened as you froze. “Sej.” Your voice was watery, cracking as you tried to convince yourself you weren’t scared.

As the PeaceKeeper’s continued to yank you towards your inevitable demise, Sejanus took a protective step forward. Screw the Capitol, screw the PeaceKeepers. He had tunnel vision, hoping to get you out of harm’s way as effectively as possible.

A cold hand grabbed his elbow, successfully halting the boy. Coriolanus.

Sejanus watched through blurry vision as you shook while walking up the steps. He couldn’t will himself to move, not after Coryo’s firm hand was wrapped into his flesh.

His mouth parted, trying to form words as they placed you meticulously over the trap door.

You gulped, chin up, looking straight ahead. Feigning bravery was always your specialty, and it sure as hell wasn’t going to fail you now.

Sweet brown eyes met yours in the crowd. Once again, Lucy Gray hopelessly watched your doom play out. You gave her a subtle nod of appreciation and turned to your left, looking down at the two familiar PeaceKeeper uniforms.

Sejanus stood in front of Coriolanus, heartbroken as a million thoughts rushed through his head. Move, dammit! He tried to will himself.

You could just make out the small smirk playing on Coryo’s face as he realized he had won this round. As the scratchy rope was placed over your head, you focused solely on Sejanus.

The tears finally poured over, the both of you with matching looks of despair. “I love you.” You mouthed, before feeling the floor beneath you disappear.

The last thing you heard was Sejanus’ broken cry of your name.

[solradguy]

Ok I need to know what's going on with this bedman guy because jeez this guy is sounding like a nuance and I'm sorry you had to go through with him.

To start: I don't want anyone hunting this guy down and harassing him like he's been harassing others. Just block him if he bothers you.

From what other people have told me, he's harassed and bullied other people for how they write/draw Bedman, or for their personal thoughts and headcanons about him. Anything that's different from how he views Bedman pisses him off. I've had a minimum of 5 people tell me about their interactions with this guy and they've all been negative and discouraged them from wanting to do anything with Bedman. Some people (as you've probably seen from the asks I've answered recently) have even moved on from Guilty Gear because of him. It seems like anyone that's ever interacted with Bedman has run into him or heard about someone else that's dealt with him though lmao

I knew about him a tiny bit before I ended up having to deal with him personally because a friend was in his Discord server and bounced after it started getting weird/judgmental. I think what initially got me on his shitlist was this post I reblogged and added some translation notes to from the (now retired) GG confessions blog. In short, an anon said that Daisuke meant for Bedman to be sexy and I explained that the word used has a bit more nuance than that. This will be relevant later.

So back in late February into March of this year, we had some people join the GG wiki server that apparently had past beef with each other that was getting out of hand. We asked them to leave. They were cool with it and understood why. It was done and over with in a few hours. Bedman fucker guy apparently ALSO had beef with one of these dudes (which he contacted one of our admin about) and also said that he wanted to make edits to the Bedman article. But it had been locked when we forked the wiki (iirc) from Fandom and we left it locked when the wiki went public on March 25th because this guy had threatened to "rip it to shreds" or something goofy. As if undoing edits on the wiki is any harder than clicking a single button.

Anyway, before all that, one of our admins was talking with him on behalf of the admins as a whole and explained that we weren't going to unlock the Bedman page but if he had edits he wanted added, we could put them on there for him. But he got mad and said that he wanted credit for editing the wiki (??). We did eventually find out what he wanted changed though. He wanted to put info about Bedman's age on there that made it sound like he was a legal adult.

No such info exists in the canon. There's nothing. There's one line Chipp says where he describes Bedman as being in his "mid-to-late teens" and that's it. It's almost 1:1 the same line in both Japanese and English.

We asked this guy what his source was and after talking in circles for seemingly forever he said he didn't actually have anything. So we were like. Ok. Thanks for wasting our time, I guess.

During, before, and after all this, we found out he was trash talking us (wiki admins) and him and some of his peons from his echo chamber were making memes wishing death on us and shit. You know, like any well-adjusted adult does. He insulted my translations too, which is why I think that Bedman post I reblogged from the confessions blog set him off. It's the only time I've ever translated anything related to Bedman because, to be frank, I didn't like that character before all this and I definitely don't like him now.

Once we stopped talking with him, we figured it was done and over with. The Bedman page eventually got unlocked and people that could write about him without talking out their asses to justify their biased headcanons fixed the outdated info and cited things, etc.

Then in August (SIX MONTHS LATER) we found out this dork had been stalking my blog and continuing to shit talk me exclusively in his server. I didn't even ever talk to the little bastard directly and I never posted about how he treated the wiki admins and I until after all this, so I don't know what the hell his problem was. Six months!!! Half a year he spent hating on me and having his echo chamber send me bait asks on here!!

What finally sent me over the edge was when he started telling people I supported Sol/Sin. Like hell I do!! He fucked up when I got a bait ask wondering "where my post where I defended sol/sin" went. No one but this Bedman guy was talking about me having any interest at all in that ship so it was obvious as the sun at noon who this ask came from. I never made a post "defending" it, but I think at one point I probably made one that mentioned that I don't give two farts what people ship, even if it's a ship I can't stand (like Sol/Sin), because I know how to close the tab or scroll away when I see people playing dolls with video game characters in a way I don't like. That does NOT mean I support everything people do. It DOES mean that I don't get my panties in a twist over thought crimes though. I'm too old to stress myself out over unofficial fan works of people that aren't even real, I have deadlines I need to meet.

I called him out on all the shit he put me and the wiki team through on that ask and, in typical Bedman fucker guy fashion, he played an elaborate game of telephone whining and crying that people were going to bully him or whatever tf because I'd gone public about his immaturity. Well. He had six goddamn months to stop acting like a fool and he didn't. So here we are.

I cannot stress enough how:

This went on for over half a year

I stopped thinking about him after the initial wiki incident and if he kept his mouth shut we wouldn't still be talking about it now

I have never spoken to him directly and don't even know his social media handles because he was/is too much of a baby to talk to me himself

His vitriol was fueled entirely by the fact that people: A. View Bedman (a dead fictional character) differently than him and B. We wouldn't let him put on the wiki that Bedman was legally fuckable.

Btw he wanted that on the wiki because he wrote (or drew?) mature/nsfw art of Bedman and people were mean to him about it so he wanted to have a wiki on his side so they'd leave him alone

That's the gist of it.

Since this got so long I just want to repeat what I said at the start: Don't hunt him down to harass him. Just block him if he shows up on your posts. He's not worth any more effort than that.

[crsssie]

sincerely, never mine

word count: 1.6k || pt2 of sincerely, never yours

warnings: manipulation and mild batshit insanity

summary: your flesh and blood. your shared flesh and blood

Tim glances at the collection of sketches left over, licking his thumb as he separates the papers, a wall of portraits of his old servants by you still bright as ever against the horrifying gold of it all. Is it a prison of his mind? Is it a prison of his life? What did he do to deserve all of this? Did you hate him just because he was an elite and you were not? Did you wish for your death so badly as to even kill yourself?

Even when the cleaners had gone to search for your body, it was gone.

Do you despise him to the point of doing anything in order to leave him with only a memory of you? Had he been any dumber, he would have ordered all traces of you to be erased, but that was not possible. He was to be next in line for the position of great leader. It would be him. It had to be him. So, he would smear the narrative surrounding your name and force you to become attached to him at the word, dubbing you his sweet songbird that he had so gracefully set free. It was easy to edit the footage and grant you the false freedom that you had refused when at your fingertips. You did not want to become one of them. You despised him, and he would make it so that you could never hear your own name without being reminded of his own.

If you would drag him deep into the trenches of the ocean, then he would kill you in the process.

Though, his love for you was not just on the surface. There was no way he would be able to play into everyone's perception of a heartbroken leader who refused to marry if he did not keep pieces of you in his study. The cage used to hold you and the chain around your ankle remain there, and he no longer watches and allows songbird performances at events he attends. He can not bear to think of you, everyone thinks. He plays the role of some lovesick heartbroken fool all for the sake that people would be sympathetic to him. It definitely helps that he happens to look like his adoptive father as well.

"The blood of the elite pass down pure!"

Surely. 

Tim stares back at the papers in his hand, raising a brow.

"Is this new?"

"No, master." His aide raises a brow. "It has been there."

Tim frowns. You had never drawn yourself during the entire duration that you had been at the mansion, so how had this ended up in his pages? 

"Do you know who drew this? This was not my bird." He frowns. 

"It is the bird's sister, master. The one whom she had been torn away from?"

Tim blinks. No. This was not the sister of whom he found on the street and turned into his puppet in the newer generation of elites. It was not your father who had replaced your blood mother as the true elite that he had done. Everything he had done was to show that he loved his songbird and for the sake of his public image. The sketch of the young girl he now holds is not of you. It can not be. It had to have been someone else—

A child.

The sketchbook is new. Surely, this was not something he had originally held, and if so, then it had been sneakily hidden in the depths of his attic. The competition was in late January. This was purposely handed to him later than such. This was not dug up recently. this was deliberately given to him by someone, and he would make sure to find just which one of his maids had the guts to imitate your art style and even dream of creating a child that resembled both you and him. There is no person in the capitol insane enough to do such.

"Find me the maid that matches the portrait of the girl. One of the new hires must surely look as her. Then, check her DNA. We have the means." Tim hands his aide the image of the child. You were crazy enough to do it. Only you could match his insanity like that.

Oh, you sweet devil. A devil that would claw and tear at him until it would get to sink its nails into the muscle of his heart and rip it right out of the confines of his ribs.

First, the maid that had placed the sketchbook on his table is found, and Tim offers an abundance of wealth and a ticket out of poverty all to know where she had received the sketchbook. She mentions under the cushion of your cage, but he is well aware of the fact that could not have been possible. Had the money not been enough? Then she would learn her lesson in the confinement of the depths of darkness. 

When Tim receives back the report on the new maid, he curls his lips upwards and gets a fine laugh out of it. Your blood and sweat. His blood resides in his mansion as a mere servant.

"The public must know." His lips curl upward menacingly as he laughs. You, his songbird, you, his siren, had offspring of his own blood and flesh. You had kept the child you knew would have sent you right back into his arms if you had survived. You are alive, surely — and if you were not, then he had his blood to take care of. You are truly cruel to place your shared blood in his hands. You must not love the child very much if that was the case.

Or, you know him better than anyone because of the image he has curated.

There are eyes everywhere regardless of how careful he is with hiring.

"I heard you called, master." The young girl stares into his eyes — the same piercing eyes that you once adorned. Truly, it was like staring at a younger version of you had it not been for the black hair the young maid received from him.

"Your mother was my songbird, no?" 

"I am not aware of who my birthmother is. I was raised by your songbird's sister. The countess."

"And you were sent here to work as my maid?"

"I was informed that I could find my father here."

"Are you aware that you are of my flesh and blood?" 

"I was not, master." 

You are truly heartless.

Tim raises her to be the perfect successor, heartless and merciless with the people, watching as songbirds are killed year after year for only one to emerge victorious. With her, he fears nothing. All the blame could be pinned on the mistakes of her youth, and he would get to ruin your life through your shared flesh and blood. He is sure you are watching — whether that be in the depths of hell or from the peace of your bedroom. You could not have escaped, he tells himself. You are not dead. You can not be dead.

Your shared flesh and blood resemble you without a doubt, eyes like yours as though you were still there staring at him in the room when the songbird emerges victorious and he congratulates them. Is it cruel to use you for his narrative? Surely not. Is it cruel to use someone who had used him? There is no rest for the wicked, and it just so happened that neither of you are the good. He would make sure that the positive that could have come from your flesh would be worse than him. Surely, he would end up affecting more people in the end.

He would dig his own claws into the hole where your heart is supposed to be and personally make sure that you would see the demise of everyone around you just because you had left him. Your sister, father, and every single person he had ever cared about would be dragged into the trenches that you have forced him into just with your voice. One after the other, they fall ill to some mystery and pass away, and no one could pin it on Tim because he had adored both you and your family oh so much.

Tim is truly... is there truly rest when you have become the devil himself?

That is, until he is bedridden early in his life, stuck as his offspring tends to him by hand, always overseen by the doctor. He is on the way for recovery, his doctor says. Though, not that he worries. He has raised his flesh and blood to be a perfect copy of him. He is in good hands. There is no betrayal from someone who has been given everything and forced to stay obedient. There is no—

no, that's not quite the case.

"I am my mother's flesh, father's blood."

And Tim notes the way that his flesh is no longer of your eyes. They are now blue as his own, and in the very last moments of his death with no health to even yell, he is forced to stare himself in the eye rather than you. The way his head is held under the water reminds him of your singing all too much, bubbles slipping past his lips as his lungs flood with your song, hands thrashing to push himself up despite the longing to see you. He can not die yet. He must finish what he started and rip your life to shreds. He must destroy the very thing that you care about.

His vision goes dark, and he mumbles a prayer to you.

But he isn't dead.

No, not yet.

Even if it takes an eternity to recover, he will find you and sink those claws into your skin.

Just you wait.

[lavaablast]

My headcanons pt1 (because i self project on everything)

(my opinion remember this is all silly fun) (also i change my mind contantly so expect me to edit this post constantly)

Kai Smith:

the band aid on his eyebrow is there because he has an eyebrow piercing, and he wants to protect it from getting ripped in battle (also doesnt want a scolding from Wu hehe)

self harms but instead of c///ing he burns because well, obvious reasons (less likely to be found out too)

orthorexic, is obsessed with being in peak physical form

hear me out on this one, i know he eats junkfood (so do orthorexics okay every 3d is diferent) anyway he never does it alone. he eats junkood only with other people, and he's always thinking he'll "make up for it" later. so yes he eats junkfood and yes he is orthorexic (felt like i had to defend my point there dsfsd)

body dysmorphia. knows he looks good but doesnt know what he looks like

"if i gave up on being pretty, i wouldn't know how to be alive" or wtv mitski said

has an extensive skincare routine but if anyone asks him he'll just say he "washes his face with cold water"

anger issues, but like he can explode on the ninja too and then he immediately regrets it but its too late which leaves him with... ->

guilt. ALL THE TIME. its in the back of his head wherever he goes

sun aries, moon sagittarius. i wont back down on this (im a sun aries and moon sag)

claims he "doesnt care" but actually cares so much it hurts (especially about Nya/Lloyd he'd do anything for them you hear me ANYTHING)

has strong morals and ideals but will give them up in a second when needed for survival of himself or the ninja (people often see this as a bad thing but he just wants everyone to live no matter the cost)

ironically, can't handle spicy food and is ALWAYS made fun of it by the others

is reckless and takes stupid risks because he does not care for his body whatsoever (the others think he doesnt know whats at stake, he does, but doesnt care when it's just his own saftey he's risking)

lowkey a perfectionist, but has a different idea of perfect than others so they wouldnt know (aka he needs things/himself/stuff he makes to be perfect, but not perfect objectively, perfect to what he thinks is right)

loves his parents because they tried their best, but still resents them. he hates that he does, but he does

cried all of his tears out ONCE after Nyas "death" and didnt cry at all after that, instead taking so much on his plate that he didnt get a single chance to think about it again (it'd be too painul, this was easier) which lead to....->

his grief being put on hold; and only when Nya already was back did it come out and he had no idea why he was feeling this way so he didnt tell anyone (what would he have said, im in agony for no reason at all?) and it was HELL to do it alone

tied to the above; he couldn't ask for help if his life depended on it (literally)

loves too hard

hates too hard

BPD coded (i dont wanna diagnose him but,,, im justsayinnn *whistles while walking away suspiciously*)

trust issues, but lowk all the ninja have them because like,,, just look at what they have to deal w bro

commitment issues because freedom is the most important thing in the world (after Nya/Lloyd) so settling down or commiting to one thing too long feels like threatining his freedom

actually smart (both emotinally and intelligently) but doesnt use his brains capabilities that much

great memory but also shit memory (remembers a whole row of numbers for no reason but forgets he has to pick up lloyd from the arcade..)

hot. thats all i rest my case

loves himself but hates himself

everything and nothing at the same time, everything about him contradicts himself, but also doesnt, but also does

hes a really simple person, really. but also the most complex one youll ever meet.

hates labels, especially being labeled by others (for the reasons above)

likes men but hates labels so,, no labels (not even the label "unlabeled")

infact he has a deep hatred for the label 'unlabeled' because if something is unlabeled, then why are you LABELING IT

red. everything is red redredred RED he loves red

has sibling bracelets with nya and lloyd (kai has green & dark blue, lloyd red & dark blue, nya red and green)

everything has to be red except the things that are black and orange. i rest my case once again

drinks just a bit too much for it to be considered concerning (started at 14)

will yell and scream at anyone who tries to help him (why do they think he needs help? why are they babying him? why cant the see he is capable?)

wouldnt let nya touch a bottle until she was 18 (be thankful nya its for the best)

paints his nails black or red.

has a strand of hair dyed red all the time

perfect teeth even tho he often forgets to brush them (how? fuck do i know)

would be a hyena i he was an animal

hates smartphones so he has a.. push-button phone?? whatever they're called. and he also only has the nokia brand. wont change it for a thing

"hates technology" but couldnt live without video games

loves to try new things but will have a breakdown if he HAS to try new things

stubborn asf, wont ever do anything he doesnt want to, which...->

makes people think he's selfish, but actually he's quite the opposite

selfless in an unconventional way, i'll make a drawing explaining it

please understand what i mean with that chart because it explains it so well in my brain

thats it for now cfdsfdr

[neomujinjja]

Lifetime of Moments

Pairing: Non-idol!Anton x reader

Length: 1,886 words Genre: fluff, slight angst

Warning: not edited, very long, children*, major character death

Synopsis: Anton retells the story of him and his life partner through the important moments of their time together

Note: this is heavily inspired by the movie 'A man named Otto'. * I don't mention pregnancy or bringing children back from the hospital to ensure gender neutrality and be inclusive. I also use the abbreviation P/T to stand for Parental Term. But I wanted to give a warning either way for people.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

"I'm sorry!" a voice rushed out, the owner not sparing a look back towards Anton. They seemed to be in a rush, a book falling out of their arms.

"Oh! You dropped your book." Anton called out but it seemed as the person couldn't hear him. The boy picked up the book and ran after its reader. Luckily, Anton hadn't lost them in the small crowd of people. He reached out to tap their shoulder as they stopped at a cross walk. "Hey, you dropped this back in the cafe." he explained as he handing the item over. The two's figures brushing over one another's.

"Thank you!~ I'm halfway through and I would hate not knowing how it ends," They smiled at Anton, looking into his eyes. And he swears that they were the prettiest person that he's ever seen. "You're my hero! Is there a chance that I could get your name?" they inquired, beginning to rock back and forth on their heels. "Mine's Y/N".

"I'm Anton. Lee Anton." He replied, returning a shy smile of his own.

"Well, it was nice meeting you Anton. Maybe we'll see each other again one day" Y/N said. Anton was enamored with the way his name came out of their mouth. They gave him a thumbs up before crossing to the other side of the street, weaving their way through the mass of people.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

Anton began hanging around the cafe more often after his encounter with Y/N. It wasn't just because he wanted to see them again, it was convenient cause the cafe was close to Anton's college and gym. The perfect spot to wait for classes and get something before practice. If Anton happened to bump into you there then that was a bonus.

He was waiting in line when he received a tap on his shoulder. "I thought that was you, Anton." Y/N said giving the male in front of them a big grin.

"Hi, Y/N" he greeted breathily, Y/N looked breath-taking despite wearing a hoodie and sweats. Anton admittedly was surprised that they had remembered him and his name.

"I'm sorry for rushing off without properly thanking you last time. Let me make it up to you," Y/N told him. Anton began shaking his head in protest. It wasn't a big deal to him and he was happy just knowing that they remembered him. "Nonsense, let me take you to dinner. It's the least I could do for my hero" They cut off any of Anton's protest as they pulled out a notebook. He watched them write a series of numbers before then ripping the page. "That's my number, we can discuss where and when later."

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

Anton paid his fair before quickly leaving the cab. He was running behind but he hopefully hadn't kept them waiting long. Anton had texted you but he hadn't checked his phone for a response. A breathe of relief left him at the sight of Y/N waiting outside the agreed upon restaurant. "I'm glad you're still here!"

"I told you, I was taking you out. If anything I should've been worried that you were gonna bail." They responded opening the door for the male. The place seemed relatively fancy but not so that eating would break the bank. "I hope you're into Italian food, Mr. Anton cause this is the fanciest I can afford" Y/N joked as the pair walked into the restaurant. Anton felt so comfortable in Y/N's presence, he was able to joke and laugh freely with them. It was as if he could talk with them for hours.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

Anton felt like he was on cloud 9 and was buzzing from the energy in the crowd. The male had broken a personal record at the swim meet just minutes before. He and Y/N walked hand-in-hand out of the stadium. "Anton," Y/N pulled him to the side, away from the crowd. They took both of his hands in theirs and swung them between the pair. "Will you marry me?" They asked the man in front of them. "We've been together for 4 years, and I know I love you and want to be together with you for the rest of my life." Y/N continued, rubbing circles on the back of Anton's hands.

Anton pulled them into a hug, bringing their heads together. "Of course, I want to marry you" he responded.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

"This is the last one" Y/N said as they set the last box down.

"And now it's officially our place" Anton said back as he wrapped his arms around them. Y/N hummed in agreement and leaned back onto their husband. "Imagine what it'll be like once we're all settled in." The pair swayed as they took a break before they'd begin unpacking.

"Where should we start first? The Kitchen...The Living Room?" Y/N asks turning to face the male. "The bedroom?" They continued as they jokingly wiggled their eyebrows at Anton. He laughs and plants a kiss onto their forehead.

"Let's start in the bedroom and then work towards the kitchen and living room" The male proposes. The duo separate and begin unpacking the boxes.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

Ushering in, the pair quietly and tiredly walked through the door. Y/N makes their way towards the couch and sets the baby carrier down. They take out their son and place him in the bouncer. Anton joins after putting their bags into the couple's laundry room. "He's so small and precious" Y/N whispers as they looked over their child.

"He's all ours to love" Anton responds bringing his partner closer to his side. Sniffling was heard making the male turn. "Why are you crying?" Anton asked as he wiped their tears away. "Are you okay?" He continued with worry in his voice.

"I'm okay" They nodded, sniffling some more. "We have a baby. We're parents." Y/N says taking Anton's hands in theirs.

The male laughed "Yeah, we sure are". He pulled his partner into a hug.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

"How was the zoo, you guys?" Y/N asked as Anton and the boys walked in. They got an arm full of Teo, their oldest son, once he was fully inside.

"P/T we saw so many animals. And there was even an animal that was like Kori. It stayed on its parent's back" He tells you excitedly about the animals the three saw at the zoo.

"A Koala" Anton informed the young boy as he took his second son out of their sling. "Did you tell P/T about your favorite exhibition yet?" He asks the toddler as he lets the baby onto the play mat. Anton walks over to his partner, giving them a peck on the lips despite Teo's protest.

"Appa! You can't give P/T a kiss before I give them one!" the young boy says pushing his dad away. Teo wrapped his tiny arms around his other parent and begins placing kisses on their face. Laughter came out from the adult couple at the toddler's actions.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

Anton turns and reaches out to his partner's side. He opens his eyes when he doesn't feel anything. The male gets up out of the bed, puts his house shoes on and begins looking around their home. Anton checks on the boys' room after looking in the bathroom and the kitchen-living room combo with no avail. Teo and Kori are both deep asleep with tiny snores coming out of their mouth. He closes the door softly then proceeds to the nursery. There he finds Y/N in the rocking chair with their youngest June. Anton lets out a sigh of relief upon the sight. He walks towards his partner and their child. "Y/N, come back to bed. Let's put Junie back in her crib" The male whispers rubbing their back.

"Did I fall asleep?" Y/N asks groggily with a confused look on their face. Anton nods as he helps them get up from the rocking chair. The duo quietly set June back in her crib, double checking the monitor before heading out of the room. He rubs Y/N's back as the couple walk back to their room. They get into the bed and Anton cuddles into his partner. Now he can fall back asleep knowing that all of his family is safe.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

Y/N and Anton sit outside, enjoying the fresh evening air. "It's quiet, isn't it?" Y/N says after a moment. "With all of the kids officially out, it's quiet" They continued as they sipped their tea.

"It's odd, right? We haven't had a quiet moment to yourselves since we brought Teo home" Anton says with a laugh. He grabs his partner's hand, over the years they've both gained wrinkles.

"Should we call them?" Y/N jokes and the duo laugh. With a sigh, Y/N continues "I understand how our parents felt when we moved out".

Anton hums before shaking his head. "No, we can bother them some other time. Let's just enjoy the silence for now."

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

Anton held his partner's hand as they laid in the bed. The low hum of the machines in the background. "Anton..." Y/N spoke lowly, their voice sounded parched and croaky.

"Yes, Y/N?" He responded with his full attention. Anton gripped tighter at his spouse's hand with love in his eyes.

"I don't want to leave you and the kids. We were supposed to be together for the rest of our lives." Y/N said looking into Anton's eyes. He tries to interrupt but they stop him from speaking. "I'm sorry Anton. I'm gonna have to leave first" they continued before turning to their children. "Take care of your Appa for me. I love you, my babies and I'm so proud to have raised the three of you. You've all done such great things with your life, and I know you'll continue to do so." Y/N tells them before a coughing fit starts.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

"Y/N was the love of my life. There was no one else like them. I pretty much fell in love with them as soon as I first met them." Anton pauses with a sigh and chuckle.

"Mr. Lee, that sweet. Did you think you'd end up dating and marrying them too?" the home nurse asked the elderly man.

"No," He shook his head "I didn't. I always thought of myself as a lucky man to be with them. I was just happy that Y/N wanted to be around me." Anton says with a smile on his face. The home nurse also smiled at the man's statement.

"I wish that I can have a love like yours one day, Mr. Lee" She tells him. She's had been helping take care of the elderly man for a few years now. She had seen the pictures and heard a few stories but today she asked about Mr. Lee's love life with his spouse. The home nurse listened and watched as the man eyes and voice were full of love as he spoke about his life partner. Anton laughs and smiles as he wishes the home nurse luck. "Do you miss them, Mr. Lee?" she asks with curiosity.

Anton hums and nods before answering "Everyday".

[felinisnoctis]

Ok I never post anything but the #space marine husbandry tag was too entertaining

Bonded Pairs

with thanks to a friend for letting me borrow their astartes and for many hours of entertaining ffrp

Edit: Apparently this is turning into a thing, so links: next

Made some slight changes as well to fit the ongoing story

I’ve had a lone space wolf for a while, he’s kind of an old boy but he’s pretty content. Surprisingly tame for the chapter, likes to help with the cooking and I managed to get him to stop trying to put mjod in everything. Mostly likes to play with his pet wolf. I live out in the country and I know there’s some real sketchy stuff that goes on out here though.

Anyway, the other day we were out walking, dead of winter, and we found a badly injured ultramarine out in one of the snow drifts. Poor thing was missing both his eyes and nearly frozen to death. Looked like he hadn’t had a good meal in a long time too. Of course I brought him inside and had him put in a protection crate with a heating pad right away. Was planning on keeping him isolated but my space wolf seems to be pretty protective and wanted to help keep him warm so I let him. Called the doctor to come out since we’re rural and he was in no shape to transport, but she can’t make it for several days.

Imagine my surprise when a few days later I go outside and there’s a small blood angel backed up against the wall, fangs bared. Took a while to calm him down but I got him in containment finally as well for the medic to look at. Kept him separate from the other two as I know blood angels can be tempermental and I wanted to make sure the explanations and introductions were done all proper.

The doctor came by to look at the ultramarine and of course he started howling at the exam. He was in pretty bad shape and some of the treatments must have hurt. Imagine my surprise when my new blood angel ripped the door of his crate off, ran into the room, and started threatening the vet with a stolen knife! Those things are supposed to be proof against rampaging astartes too, that's why they're part of the medical equipment. And of course my space wolf was growling back at him and I thought they were going to go at each other.

It turns out the ultramarine and the blood angel are a bonded pair. I didn’t even know that could happen between different types. They’re super defensive of each other and refuse to sleep unless they’re curled up together. They’re still both a bit standoffish with my space wolf but there hasn’t been any actual fighting. It looks like the previous owner of the blood angel had his vocal chords removed, the poor thing, which explains why he’s so quiet, but he and the ultramarine seem to be able to communicate through touch. They’ve both clearly been abused but the vet thinks with proper food and appropriately modified enrichment they’ll survive. The blood angel seems to be drawn to musical instruments and I’ve ordered a screen-reader equipped tablet for the ultramarine. Right now they’re both still very sleepy but I’m sure that will change soon!

[nobylu]

Long Ass Logical Lore Conclusion Of The Balor (art at the end)

Let me put you on two trains of thought that will crash together like trucks on Mythbusters in a way that will make sense when they're together.

Train 1: Healing via putting numbers back on your health bar during battle is pretty rare in Lancer. There's really only two robots in the current edition of the game that can do it - the Lancaster can heal everyone and the Balor can fix itself. In fact, I'd argue that the Balor is defined more by healing than the Lancaster - you heal on your turn, you heal more on your turn if you activate your core power, you heal immediately after battle without expending repairs IF YOU ARE A BALOR AND YOU HAVE DAMAGE YOU HEAL and your DM vows to focus all fire on you so at least you take some kind of damage that's permanent (but then you activate your core power and say fuck you DM i rolled a d6 and got a 6 so actually there's no structure damage i am fine because I am a Balor)

Train 2: We all know and love that the Balor is just nanites on some sort of structure and that it goes yum yum yum on anything standing near it via the power of Scouring Swarm and Swarm Body (2-11dmg if you're standing next to one, if you dont know), but now we gotta ask - how do the nanites know where the robot ends and where the pilot begins? WHAT IS STOPPING THE NANITES FROM GOING AUTO YUM YUM YUM ON MY PILOT BECAUSE MY PILOT IS VERY ADJACENT TO THEM. I argue that what is keeping the nanites from snacking on their pilots is that the swarm knows what a human body is supposed to look like on several different levels. If they just know to not eat the skin, then the moment the pilot gets hurt because something got them when an enemy was shooting at the quote "angry water" that is the Balor then they get eaten from the inside out and turned into a fashionable human-sized human-shaped artisan raw leather bag because all the swarm knows not to touch is the pilot's skin. They also gotta know more than "a person is a head, torso, and four limbs" because then the bees will be the Diogenes to our Plato the moment, say, a space murder tiger comes into contact with the nanites and the bees will also cease to recognize the pilot when the space murder tiger rips off a leg because you know what's gonna happen the moment the pilot becomes a head, torso, and THREE limbs you guessed it it's yum yum yum time and now the swarm is the space murder tiger's, congratulations to the lucky tiger. So they gotta know skin, muscle, bones, blood, pilot's DNA, nerves - THE WHOLE NINE YARDS and probably how they sort of go together. (also probably clothes because i'd hate to pilot my bees and come out with my whole entire dick and balls and titties in the breeze because my bees atomized my fit and won't give it back). The subsequent collision of Train 1 and Train 2:

If Balors are greedy heal bots and know how people are put together, what is keeping them from healing their pilots. NOTHING, IS WHAT I SAY. I posit that Balor nanites can, in fact, fix their pilots because bodies are just the frames for the computational core that is the brain. How well you want them to fix their pilots is up to you - for me, the answer is poorly and with balor-ification. Mechanically, it can't be instantly because that would be busted and poor sport, but you can theme your Balor Pilot's revival upon their unfortunate death likely of reactor stress (RIP my shit heat cap) as "they got fixed up by their nanites". And if you really really want, you can add nanites to your Pilot like I did with my guy, Diederik.

Nanite Infestation and the Small Balor Stability Problem

You're familiar with that part of Balor lore that says that they don't work on anything smaller than size 2 because they just need SO MUCH ENERGY, so how do I justify through lore that my pilot has these nanites while also not acting as a size 1/4 Balor. The way I've perceived it is that Diederik, my boy my man my guy, is host to a swarm that 1) does not operate in its fullest capacity and 2) subsequently cannot do mech-level combat.

Balors have specialist nanites used in specific weapons like the Hellswarm, CONSUME/HIVE, and SWARM/HIVE. Something that can damage a mech probably is super energy-hungry, so we can have those be turned off. The only activated nanites would be structural nanites, sensor nanites, greywash (the part that eats), and reconstruction nanites that take what the greywash atomizes and glues it together like a 10 year old making a clay model of a person that makes you go "oohhh, thats... nice. Great job??? It looks just like me?". Just enough nanite activity that it can be powered by the human body at the low low price of "eat more food". (For Diederik, I've gone another step and will say that the reactor of the Balor is made of reactor nanites but that running them inside a human body uuuhhhh cooks it so those are off too.)

The cool thing about having Balor nanites permanently on you is that you can flavor all sorts of things as nanite shit. My pilot melee weapon is nanite knuckle dusters. I flavor my successful pilot-level rolls as the nanites doing something or alerting of something. I'm running the Bond Magus so all my Magus powers are just nanites doing their thing - skincrawl (get a bad feeling and react fast) is just the nanites telling Diederik about the bad thing in time for him to react, Geist (touch someone and experience what they do while unobserved even when far away) is just planting a nanite bug on them, Possession (ask the dark presence inside you a question) is just asking The Maw their/its opinion, etc.

(Another tidbit to chew on is that the swarm is still going to run a little toasty, so pilots hosting Balor nanites post healing are in turn going to be a little toasty just kind of always. Hello 100 freedom degree perma-fever.)

[f0rlorn]

Heyy I love your writing and I was wondering if you could write something with Tanner from district ten? Maybe they were pining over each other and get reaped together?

right person, wrong time → tanner

tanner!tbosas x reader

a/n → tanner is THE loverboy of all loverboys

notes → in which you and tanner both confess to each other at the worst possible time. feminine intended reader. read to the end for a surprise :)

warnings → i’m not super familiar with tanner’s character, so it ended up being rather short (if you like it enough to want a part two, i can surely try my best), he’s probably way ooc. not edited & uploaded via iphone

      he was screwed. what was he supposed to do, kill you? tanner’s been head over heels for you for as long as he could remember, he didn’t think he could hurt you, or even bare to see you injured for that matter. and here you were now, looking oh so frightened as you made your way up to the makeshift reaping stage of district ten. all he wanted to do in that moment was hold you tight and tell you it would be okay, even if he knew it wouldn’t be. he just wanted to protect you from harm; you were fragile to him, after all. in reality, he knew you weren’t the damsel in distress he made you out to be. you could take care of yourself if push came to shove, you had proven so much at work, where he admired you from afar. here you were now, standing right next to him, possibly the closest he’s ever been to you. he tried to sneak a peek of your shorter form, without making it obvious that he was staring at you. the mayor was saying something irrelevant that he wasn’t paying attention to, then he was ripped from his thoughts as peacekeepers dragged the two of you to ten’s train station, thankfully located close by. tanner desperately wanted to break the silence as the two of you waited for the train to arrive, but what would he say? 

     “hey girl, i think you’re super cute and i’ve had a crush on you pretty much my entire life.” yea, right. he scoffed, subjecting himself to just tapping his shoe until, much to his surprise, you spoke up.

     “y’know, it’s probably super inconvenient to tell you this now, but i’m probably gonna regret not telling you if i die..” you began, and his head rapidly turned to face you, eyes blown wide in anticipation. “i’ve had a huge crush on you for like, a whole year now…” you averted his gaze in embarrassment, laughing awkwardly as you admitted to your crush on him. tanner couldn’t believe what he was hearing. he was genuinely on the verge of asking you to repeat your confession when the train conveniently arrived to take the two of you away. quickly, you scurried ahead of him as peacekeepers loaded the two of you on the train, shutting the doors and leaving you both in the dark. tanner had accidentally slammed his head against the doorway upon entry, muttering a myriad of curses as he placed his fallen hat back on his head. 

     “tanner?” you called out, “i can’t see anything, where are you?” you demanded desperately. tanner couldn’t stop his face from flushing when you asked for him. thank goodness it was dark and you couldn’t see how flustered he was that you were actually talking to him. he was so in awe that he almost forgot to respond.

     “uhm- yea! just, uh, reach your hands out, i’m in the corner to your left,” he awkwardly croaked out. tanner could hear you shuffling for a few moments, before he felt your hands grasping his arm. he was lucky he didn’t let out an involuntary squeal, it was like all of his dreams were coming true, aside from the fact that he was being sent to fight to the death. even then, if he died during the hunger games he would die a happy man.

     “‘m sorry if my crush on you totally freaked you out, you can just pretend i never said it, if you want,” you muttered, your hands leaving his arm as you settled beside him. the loss of contact left him heavily disappointed.

     “don’t be. sorry, i mean. it kinda did the opposite of freak me out, to be quite frank..” he admitted, turning his face away from you, even though you couldn’t see him anyway.

     “you mean you feel the same way?” you asked, cheerfully. unconsciously, you moved closer to him, your legs pressed up against his. tanner felt his face go red.

     “yea, for way longer than just a year, mind you.” he informed you.

     “crap..” you mumbled, tone changing quickly as you came to a realization. he turned to you in shock. why would that be a bad thing? “that makes things much more complicated.” oh yea, the fact that the two of you were about to enter a game where only one person got to come out alive. “gosh, i’m such an idiot, i really shouldn’t have told you.” you groaned, throwing your head back against the metal wall behind you. tanner didn’t respond, but decided to be bold for once in his life, intertwining his fingers with your own and tugging you even closer to him. even if you were right, and it did complicate things, he would make the most of his time with you before the games. besides, he had waited his whole life to be this close to you, to treat you right and love you like you deserved. and he wouldn’t give that chance up for the world.

[siffrin-enthusiast]

// intro post

[Image ID: A monochrome GIF of the main characters from the video game In Stars and Time, created by insertdisc5. End ID.]

hello and welcome to my little corner of the internet!!

more information (including about the music) is below the cut but. the tldr is that i'm a happily taken bodily white 19 year old, auDHD disabled transmasc traumagenic DID system currently fixated on in stars and time, ultrakill, and nbc’s hannibal. word salad i know /silly. i go by kuiper and he/they pronouns :)

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interests

there's..a lot!! i'm currently VERY fixated on nbc's hannibal, but there's also in stars and time, web design, room of swords, coding, rain world, deltarune, slay the princess, pokemon, just roll with it, hollow knight, psychology (my college major!), fnaf, inscryption, generation loss, hades, celeste, ultrakill, warrior cats, oneshot, hunger games, moon knight (show + comics), night in the woods, john constantine and a good thirty more that i'm forgetting.

if you want to talk about any of these please feel free to send an ask/dm!!

tagging system

i do my best to keep it simple because i'm too lazy to do a cool one for convenience! interests are tagged with the name of said interest (#in stars and time), and if they're somewhat newly-out, they get a "spoilers" thrown on the end of it (#in stars and time spoilers). if there's something i post about that you don't want to see, i highly encourage you to block its tag! i won't know or be offended! :)

i’ll tag anything that i think is a common thing to be tagged like death/blood, and i do it in the format of #tw death. if this isn’t the right format or anyone wants me to tag other things that i didn’t think of, just let me know! i do NOT post or reblog 18+ content at all (personal reasons).

there's also a few special tags of my own! asks are tagged with #kuiper important posts for the important stuff (like this intro post), #kuiper favorite posts for my favorites/things i return to frequently, #kuiper asks, posts where i ramble about whatever is #kuiper rambling, posts about my dissociation/system are tagged #kuiper system posting though i don’t post about it much, things about my disabilities are occasionally tagged with #kuiper disability moment! i also write fic and while i tag them with #kuiper fics, i post most of them over at my fic sideblog! (..well i DID before i burnt out.)

if there's ever anything that you need tagged, please let me know!!

requests

i'm getting pretty into making stuff so..if anyone ever wants me to try my hand at something, please feel free to ask! this is pretty informal until i set more things up! edits, pfps, icons, stimboards, userboxes, ask games, fic/drabbles, coding, i'm willing to give it an honest shot!! feel free to ask!

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contact

the best way to contact me here is my dms/asks because my notifications are a. little overrun!!

don't like tumblr? don't worry! i have too many other sites! ranked from most to least used:

neocities

cohost

spacehey

dni

i use the block button liberally, as should you! it's freeing!

basic DNI criteria. you know the drill. bigots will just be blocked

people who don't believe in freeing palestine/zionists

entirely nsfw or untagged nsfw accounts.

entirely ed/sh or untagged ed/sh accounts. i understand if you're struggling with it, but if it is your entire blog, no.

syscourse. post whatever you want on your blog, just don't bring it to mine (asking my opinion, tagging me in things).

blank blogs. i will think you're a bot.

people who are still giving j.k. rowling money. shoo!!!

radfems, terfs, radqueers, transableds, proshippers, stuff like that.

anyone not on that list is more than welcome here!!

credits

theme and the lil cat popup by glenthemes

music player, playlist

the lovely dividers

in stars and time & gif by insertdisc5

siffrin looping gif