#everyone else though has either done something to piss me off or i just don’t care about them

[livvyofthelake]

the line between superheroes i like vs superheroes i don’t like is actually so simple it would blow some people’s minds for real. the superheroes i like are all women and the ones i don’t like aren’t… and then there’s the mass of ones i don’t care about one way or another of course

[charliemwrites]

In this 1fur1 au….may I raise you wolf!price? The dog/man basically struts right into your home out of the woods and immediately takes his place as pack leader. It doesn’t matter that you’re supposed to be the one giving orders, price is in charge now.

You want to get off the couch and away from the mass of cuddles? Absolutely not. Price will be giving you a look so domineering you are sitting right back down no questions asked. He has you well trained ;)

The others don’t seem to mind the new addition either, making way for a new top dog. Price is quiet and doesn’t cause trouble, but if you’re late home be prepared to face his doggy wrath

Okay, so I love this concept, but I’m gonna raise you one - and write a new part for it.

(Don’t worry, Gaz is coming soon. This ask just really spoke to me lol).

This is also a part 1 — part 2 coming soon.

Three fuck-off sized wolf dogs is a lot. Like, a lot. There’s the fur, the food, the playtime. And then just the sheer clinginess. You’ve always thought of yourself as a dog person, that they just naturally are drawn to you because you tend to be quiet and respectful of boundaries.

Your boys though. They’re something else. Johnny was the easiest of the three to acclimate to your household. When it was just the two of you, bonding and learning him was easy. Whoever had him first had already done a lot of the work training him. And he naturally seems to like girls better so.

Ghost was more difficult. Clearly some trauma there, and a more wolfy-attitude towards humans. Primarily that he doesn’t seem to understand (or agree with) dumb pet things like harnesses, collars, and about 50% of the commands you give him unless you use your Serious Voice. He’s gotten less stingy with affection as time has gone on and his trust in you has grown.

Helped in part, you think, by learning his personality and behaviors. He’s a creature of strict habit. Likes his routines. Likes his space even more; you’ve always been respectful when he wanders off to another room, or when he climbs off the couch to lay nearby but not with you. You never mind, just call that you love him and leave him be.

Konig has been your biggest challenge so far. A lot of trauma there. And possibly a naturally shy personality; though it’s so hard to tell after everything he’s clearly been through. He’s been improving steadily each day, little by little. He’s sweet as can be, affectionate and snuggly when you manage to get him to join you and the others. The least aggressive with men when you take them for walks.

You’re lucky, the boys are so well-behaved — dislike of men notwithstanding. Scary dog privilege is a true blessing when you live alone, with no close neighbors, and right next to the woods. And they are so ridiculously sweet with you at least.

Still, they can be a lot. Any one of them is nearly the size of you, when all three of them decide to act up, it’s overwhelming.

Johnny will starting howling, pissed that Ghost has pinned him again. Ghost will start barking and grumbling - presumably trying to shut him up. And then Konig will insert himself, whining and tapping his feet, trying to break them up, you think.

Sometimes they’ll knock it off on their own, and Ghost will sneeze, shake off, and everyone will come to sit with you. But sometimes…

“Boys!”

You wade in between them, get a hold of Ghost’s scruff and push him off with your thigh against his muscular shoulder. Nearly trip over Johnny as he tries to scramble up and get at Ghost, crying and growling at the same time somehow. You curse as Konig bumps into you, nearly makes you fall over Ghost, who backs up with his nose scrunched up like he’s gonna bite.

Which is about the time you’ve had enough.

“Boys!” There’s a blessed beat of silence. “Outside, now!”

Johnny charges for the door, barking over his shoulder at ghost, who is quick to follow. Konig is slightly slower, head ducked like he knows he’s being part of the problem.

You groan with relief as they pile outside, all three immediately getting into another tussle. They’ve been keyed up the last three days no matter what you do and today seems to be the day it’s finally boiling over. You just wish it was on a day that the yard isn’t wet with mud.

Well then. You drop onto the porch steps and run your hands down your face, sighing. Best to let them stay out as long as possible — try to make bath time a little easier, at least.

You hear nails on the wood next to you, a little squeak, a snort. Figuring it’s one of the boys, you reach a hand without looking and tangle your fingers in their scruff. Pause because… that does not feel like any of your boys.

No way.

You pick your head up, turn slowly. And yup, there’s a dog you’ve never seen before. Another weird wolf one. Not as big as Konig at least. Closer to Ghost’s size — and actually similar in coloration. Cream and tan, with sharp blue eyes, a funny pattern along his cheeks and jaw that looks a bit like a beard.

“What in the…” you breathe, “is there some kind of doggy magnet on this house or something?”

You creep your fingers up his neck and around to his chin, give him a little scritch before he tilts his head to sniff at your wrist.

“Hi, handsome,” you coo, “oof.”

You hurry to prop yourself up as he shoves his muzzle into your stomach, nuzzling up under your shirt. You squeak at the cold, wet nose on your skin — and then again he licks at your ribs.

“Alright, alright,” you huff, shoving at his chest.

He backs up, though not far, ears perked forward and eyes bright. You stare back at him for a second, then sigh and do your due diligence, searching for a collar or microchip. He waits patiently until you’re done, then stands and shakes himself off.

You arch an eyebrow as he barks twice. All three of your boys stop, heads jerking up and turning to the two of you on the porch. Another bark and your little pack comes trotting back. When Johnny tries to nip at Ghost’s haunch, the new dog rumbles low in his chest. And to your shock, Johnny falls in line and slinks inside.

“Huh,” you say.

The mystery pup sneaks a kiss to your cheek before following the others inside. When you just sit there for a second, staring, he twists to look at your over his shoulder and gives you a little “boof.”

You laugh. “Bossy bastard.” And follow them in.

Main Story | Happy Birthday! | Price pt.2

Masterlist

[lottiies]

THE S. STANDS FOR SLUT

⇢ Leon’s been a horndog over every single one of his coworkers except for you. Your pent up anger finally pays off after you finish a mission with him

CW: MDNI, fem!reader, fucking in a forest, unprotected sex, creampie

WC: 1k

NOTE: i won’t be able to get any other fics out until like after a week from now. feel free to send ideas for bots…kind of need some. hopefully the video as a header works in the tags if not i’ll change it (ㅠ‸ㅠ)

MASTERLIST

︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶

Employee of the month? Nah. More like (wannabe) whore of the headquarters. That’s what you deemed Leon to be.

Okay, maybe he didn’t fit your description perfectly, though. It’s not like he got any pussy or dick because they all turned him down. Either way, you couldn’t stand him. The man was practically flirting with anyone who had a developed frontal lobe and yet he had never once made a move on you.

Had it been any other man, you’d be over the moon about it because hello? Who wants a guy who’s trying to get into everyone’s pants? But it’s Leon…the same one who makes a sticky river gush whenever he glances your way.

The fact he didn’t even compliment you made you upset. It wasn’t in a depressing ‘what do they have that I don’t?’ type of way. You were pretty pissed, actually. Maybe he was trying to tick you off on purpose.

Being sent on a mission with him was your last straw.

The tension was palpable. He was such an asshole for messing around with you even during a life threatening scenario! Pinning you against surfaces like you were some damsel in distress, which he knew you weren’t, he’d smirk all smugly when you shoved him off and scowled at him. All the banter got him riled up. What a woman you were. His type to a tee. Felt blood rushing south whenever you handled your gun with expertise.

Like, he wanted to fuck you raw until you needed his help to walk but he also wanted you to slap him around and yank on his hair until he was reduced to a begging mess. Talk about duality. One thing at a time, he must be patient.

He’s not a moron when it comes to your feigned indifference at his antics. If he lacked observational skills, he wouldn’t be here in the first place. You gave him an ego boost. It’s almost like he could see the steam coming right out of your ears whenever he was buttering someone else up, bonus points if it was the receptionist.

Sometimes you got the urge to smack his earpiece comm. Only then would you be spared from Leon's pathetic attempts at flirting with Hunnigan. She’s not interested, Leon!

Anyways.

Mission accomplished. Chopper? Late like usual, what’s new? Here you and Leon were outside in the middle of fucking nowhere, sitting on a log like you were on a camping trip. Yeah, well the tent and high spirit is missing.

You were on edge, and Leon’s idle whistling broke you. God, what a tiny thing to get upset over.

“Can you shut the fuck up?” You were so done with him. Why was he sitting so close to you when there was tons of space on the log? His knee was brushing up against yours.

Leon let out an amused huff, giving your forehead a flick just to spite you.

“So uptight, bet you haven’t gotten dicked down in a while. That’s what you need to blow off some steam.”

“You’re one to talk, when’s the last time you got laid? Last time I checked, your attempts at whoring around have been completely unsuccessful.”

“Ah, so the princess has been keeping tabs on me? How cute. Consider me flattered.”

“I wasn’t.“ You rolled your eyes, glaring at him. “It doesn’t take much effort to figure it out, you just wanna get your dick wet.”

“What, are you obsessed with my dick or something? Jealous?”

“No! Ugh…you’re so fucking gross, Leon.” Giving him a shove on the shoulder didn’t move him at all. He curled a hand around your waist and brought you closer, his lips right against your ear.

“Maybe I don’t have much game, but at least I’m not being a little bitch about it. You just need someone to fuck all that sass outta ya, sweetheart.”

Okay. Wow. Maybe his voice was his superpower because that’s all you could focus on now. Were you really in a forest if you could no longer hear the rustling of tall and mighty trees or the distant buzzing and yapping of insects and birds?

And maybe his voice was hypnotic too because you don’t know how the hell you ended up on your fucking hands and knees. Ouch, your fingers hurt from the way they dug into the dirt but the way Leon was hitting your sweet spot made up for it.

His right glove was all damp from the way he had ground his palm against your clit just a couple minutes prior.

You were both still clothed, just having your pants down enough so you could get to the point.

There was a reason Leon liked you so much, you weren’t all that high maintenance, and you were actually fun. Would any of those receptionists with freshly manicured nails and keratin treatment on their hair be okay with getting dirt and leaves all over them? No! They’d want to fuck in a lavish bedroom with candles and shitty romantic songs playing. Instant boner killer.

His dick wouldn’t get hard for any woman who wasn’t you after this. He didn’t wanna waste a single load, no, they all had to be dumped into you.

“If you wanted to fuck, you could’ve just asked. Could’ve been going at it like rabbits ages ago.”

“I like it better when you don’t talk.” You gritted in response, reaching a hand back to slap the one he had on your hip. He liked the way you bit back, yeah, it had him twitching inside you.

“That right? Your pussy has a mind of its own then, got allllll nice and tight around me right now. She’s begging for me.”

You had always been Leon’s wet dream, but that fantasy felt nowhere as good as the real thing. He has no issue letting you know, either, he’s always had a big mouth.

“Your pussy feels so fucking good, bet I’m the first one to stretch it all out.”

“Been looking at your tits all day, don’t they hurt after bouncing from all this running?” He snaked his hand up your shirt and squeezed your chest, rolling the flesh between his fingers before giving one of your hard nipples a pinch.

If you weren’t losing grasp of reality you would’ve been able to notice the distant sounds of rotor blades whirling around.

“Hear that, sweetheart? We gotta hurry.”

Yeah you’d rather die than be found getting fucked by Leon Slut Kennedy. You always thought those facial expressions pornstars made were unrealistic, but now you were mimicking it without much effort. If you snapped a shot of it you’d be famous on Twitter. How embarrassing, or maybe flattering?

“Atta girl, you like it nasty huh?” His hand wrapped around your throat like it was your personal collar and his murmured growl of your name had you seeing stars. He came inside you, pumping you with everything and slapping your ass before pulling your panties up so his load was trapped with you.

What a bastard.

The chopper ride back to HQ was uncomfortable with his cum plugging you up like a damn toy.

“You, me, hotel room after this?” Leon asked all cheekily as he nudged your shoulder, too busy looking at the way you had your legs crossed instead of the pretty view outside the window.

Maybe he’d finally get a good old slap to the face from you like he deserved while you rode him.

[zepskies]

Hey, I’ve really enjoyed reading your imagines. Would you be up for writing one where either Dean / Solider Boy / Beau, I don’t mind, has done something to upset/piss off the reader and goes out his way to make it up to her and then it’s all fluffy? I’m definitely in the readers position right now and hoping that’s what’s happening! Thank you.

Hey lovely anon!

Ooh this is interesting. So you didn't exactly ask for this, but this is where my mind went. I really enjoyed doing an imagine called "How Dean, Beau, and Ben would react to seeing your breast reduction scars."

So I'm going to do this one in that style...

Pairings: Dean Winchester x F. Reader, Beau Arlen x F. Reader, Soldier Boy/Ben x F. Reader

Tags/Warnings: Angst, arguments, hurt/comfort, fluff

Headcanon: How Dean, Beau, and Ben would make up for pissing you off.

Dean Winchester

Readers of Devour Me will recognize this scenario...

Dean can be an asshole sometimes. He knows it, but that side of him tends to come out along with his protective side.

He gave you...what you would consider a "firm suggestion" on a hunt. In his mind, it was a warning you were meant to follow: hang back.

The vampire nest was bigger than you guys expected.

You jumped in to save the woman they were keeping chained...but she was already drained dry. A vamp caught you, but before you could swing your knife, hot teeth sank into your neck.

Your scream rang through the air, tearing from your throat.

Dean's machete soon followed, killing the vampire and saving you in the process. He hid the depths of his worry. His fear, when he heard your scream, saw the monster bearing on you.

He buried the true depths of that turmoil and later holds you while Cas heals you. You thank him with a sigh and look up at Dean. Before you can apologize for ignoring his warning, his words simultaneously cut you to the bone and spark a blaze:

"I hope you learned your damn lesson," he says.

"Excuse me?" you hotly reply.

"You fucking heard me! When I say 'hang back,' I mean it. Hang the hell back."

"I've been hunting long before I met you, Dean."

"Yeah, well. Color me surprised that you've made it this long."

And that sparks the knock-down drag-out fight you and Dean have in the dirty, blood-splattered barn in the middle of nowhere. Even Sam and Cas are uncomfortable in the midst of you and Dean as they deal with the bodies of the vamps.

You don't let Dean touch you that night, even though you two still share the same bed. You sleep turned away from him, curled in on yourself.

He doesn't know how to make you understand. The sight of you with blood covering your neck and shoulder, running down over and under your shirt...

He hates it more than anything.

Even in the morning, the memory of your scream rings in his ears.

You've woken up before him, leaving your side of the bed empty. He wanders into the kitchen and finds you with your cup of coffee, stirring the creamer in for far too long. He watches you for a moment. He sees you're lost in thought. Maybe your eyes are a bit haunted.

He hates that too.

"Hey, sweetheart," he greets. His voice is still a deep rumble, but his gentleness is an olive branch.

You recognize that, and your own features soften. The truth is, you're too upset and spent to be angry anymore. You really just need him back.

He guides you into his arms, presses a kiss to your forehead, and sighs.

"...Look, I'm sorry," he says. He's grateful, even for this moment. Because it means you're safe, with him.

"I'm sorry too," you reply. You squeeze him tighter and bury your face in his chest. "I love you."

Dean hesitates. His heart clenches, both with warmth and the fear of what could have been. He lets out another deep breath as his fingers soothe through your hair.

"Love you too."

Beau Arlen

Don't let that adorable scruff fool you. Beau has his moments, just like everyone else...

You don't want to feel like the jealous "other woman." Because that certainly isn't what you are.

You and Beau have been dating for a while now. You know this is something special. He is special. A big-hearted man who leads by example, and makes his daughter a priority in his life.

You admire that more than anything. You've come to love Emily as well...

However, he's been consistently cancelling on you. Dates you'd planned, dinners you'd made, "office picnics" at the precinct that got rain-checked more than the goddamn weather channel.

It seems like any time you and Beau try to carve out a moment for each other, it gets waylaid by something that "just can't wait."

Sometimes it's due to the demands of his job (which you understand).

But more often, it's because he seems to drop everything to heed his ex-wife's requests, large and small. From moving boxes in downsizing her house, to picking up her dry cleaning.

Carla always laces her requests (demands) with something understandable, like dropping off Emily at school. As a lawyer, she's smart like that.

But you're smart too, and you see her game.

She's slowly but surely wrapping Beau around her finger, and it's driving you insane.

"Can't you see she's manipulating you?!" you finally ask him. Your hands gesture widely, your brows are knitted together, and so are Beau's. His mouth is pressed in a line.

"The hell do you mean?" he asks.

"Exactly what I'm saying," you retort. "She asks you to jump, and you say, How high, darlin'?"

Part of him wants to smile at your exaggerated Texan approximation of him. But mostly, he's irritated.

"That's not true! I'm just trying to do right by her. She's the mother of my kid--"

Your hand presses against your forehead.

"I know that, Beau. Of course I do," you say. Against your will, your deepest fears take hold. They make you feel ugly inside for thinking them, let alone saying them.

"But...either she wants you back, or maybe you want her."

Beau's frown deepens. "What? What're you talkin' about."

He tries to grab your hand, but you evade him. You cross your arms to give you the excuse you need to hold yourself together.

He blows out a frustrated breath and shakes his head. "She left me, remember?"

"Things change. Feelings change," you say hotly. Your eyes run over his face, as if trying to search his heart.

Beau finally understands just what you're thinking. He softens.

And then his expression firms.

"Not for me," he says.

He reaches for you. You allow him to grasp your elbows. He steps closer into your line of vision until his broad frame is all you can see, but you refuse to look up at him. Not until his curled finger prods under your chin, raising your face up to his.

His face lacks the jovial nature he usually carries, with a side of teasing that usually drives you crazy and lightens your heart in equal measure.

No. Right now, he's serious. His thumb grazes your cheek.

"Sweetheart, I'm not going anywhere. I'm sorry if I made you think otherwise."

Your eyes are lowered, with unshed tears swimming in them. Until Beau presses his lips to your cheek. Your eyes close, and you take in the tenderness of his touch. The smell of his cologne.

When you next open your eyes, he's smiling softly down at you. It leads you to smile a little.

"It'd be nice if you didn't cancel on me so much then," you can't help but mutter, a bit petulantly.

Beau's smile slips a bit. "I sure am sorry about that. And I'll talk to Carla. But uh..."

The rest of his good humor fades. "She mentioned something about taking Emily back to Houston."

Your eyes widen. Your hand moves to grip his wrist. "What?"

"I guess I was just...tryin' to butter her up a bit. If she settled in that new house, had everything she needed, maybe she'd stop thinking about leaving," he admits. "I want her to do what's best for Emily, but...I don't know if I can take it if she's in a whole other state."

You bite your lip. You try to soothe him with your fingers carding through his hair. You pull him into your embrace, and the roles of comfort reverse.

"You do need to talk to Carla," you say. "But I want to help, in whatever way I can. You just let me know."

You can't see it, but Beau smiles as he holds you a fraction tighter.

"You already are."

Soldier Boy (Ben)

Ugh, this (lovable) bastard...

There are a lot of opportunities to piss you off, and Ben has a habit of taking them.

He's protective, misogynistic (though you're surely trying with him), and doesn't give two shits about modern social protocols like tolerance and respect.

Nor does he give a fuck about being "nice" or "pleasant" if he doesn't want to. (And he never wants to.)

When he pisses you off, however, you have to pick your battles.

You're as patient as you can be with him, knowing all of his idiosyncrasies and foibles as well as you've come to learn them.

But when he nearly snaps a man's arm off for grabbing your ass in a musky club, you have to draw the line.

(Ben settled for jabbing the man in the face, hard enough to toss him back into an entire row of glasses. You'd winced at the man's scream of pain as glass shattered into his back.)

When you send your boyfriend a look, he's both unfazed and unapologetic.

"What, would you rather have that greasy fuck pawing all over you? No one's gonna have the balls to cop a feel right in front of me, unless they want 'em shoved up their ass."

You make a face of disgust, roll your eyes, and angrily storm out of the club. Ben follows you, now getting just as irritated. He grabs your arm and turns you around.

"What the fuck is your problem?" he demands. You raise a brow.

"Not everything is an affront to your manhood," you reply testily. "Are you really protecting me, or is it just your petty pride that another man would dare touch what's 'yours?'"

You turn to walk away from him, but he grabs you again. This time by the hand. He barely resists the urge to yank you back.

No, Ben waits for you to choose. To turn back to him. You're frowning in your anger, but even he can see the thread of hurt deep down. The fear that his motivations are only selfish.

His jaw ticks. But he sighs through his nose. "Come 'ere."

Reluctant though you seem, you take a chance in drawing back into him. His arms circle around you, with those heavy hands splaying across your lower back. He cages you securely against him and looks down you. His eyes are a fraction softer.

"You are mine," he says. "I'm not gonna let these cocksuckers forget it. Because I've got plenty of enemies who'd do more than just touch you."

It sucks to be reminded of that fact, but it's the cold reality. Still, you soften, seeing the sincerity in his eyes.

He's trying to send the world a clear message: he won't tolerate bullshit, of any kind. Least of all with you.

That, you can appreciate.

And you lean up to press a sweet kiss to his lips.

Knowing Ben, it doesn't stay sweet for long.

AN: Whew! 😮‍💨 Lots of angst diverted into hurt/comfort and fluff, there.

Do you guys like these Dean/Beau/Ben "reacts?" Let me know! 😉

Dean Winchester Imagines

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Big Sky Masterlist

Soldier Boy Masterlist

Main Masterlist

DW, BA & SB Tag List (Part 1):

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[smuttyreaders]

Forgive me for I have sinned…

March X Farmer 🩷 Event

~~~~~

You walk into the blacksmith shop after receiving a letter from March. He asked you to come by to talk to him. He’s normally not very interested in talking, so this peaked your interest right away.

You’re covered in sweat from tending your crops this morning, and there’s dirt under your nails. You nervously pick at them while you push the door open. Your eyes lock onto the red hair in the back corner of the shop, bent over the desk intently studying something you can’t see. March tilts his head as your footsteps tap over the stone flooring but he doesn’t turn around.

“I wasn’t sure you would actually show up,” he says as he turns around and slowly walks up to the front desk. You observe his posture, as he does his best to look calm and collected. You see his veins popping in his toned forearms as he clenches the edge of the desk.

“I hear you’ve been making yourself useful around town, helping out and running errands for everyone… seem to be making quite the impression,” he bites out the last part, rolling his eyes.

“You act surprised. I came here to help the town. Is this the part where you apologize for your piss poor attitude?” I say, putting a hand on my hip. I try to come off as cocky to match his energy, but he sees right through it.

“Ha, as if,” he scoffs. “We both know what you’re actually doing here, farm girl.”

My eyes scrunch at the insinuation. What does he think is going on? “What are you-“

“You’re just here to get free shit. The second you make enough money, you’ll leave this town and everyone here high and dry,” he comes out from behind the desk and leans casually on the front of it. “You seriously think you can just show up, fake your way through running a farm, and everyone will just fall to their knees thanking you for ‘all you’ve done’?” He starts to walk toward me. I take a step back and my back hits the table behind me with several tools laid out across it. I hold his gaze the entire time.

“I don’t know what you think you know about me, but that’s not true. I came here to help the town. I have no intention of-“

“Cut the shit,” he bites out and cuts me off and takes another step toward me. “You are just like everyone else that comes here. You’re all bright eyed and excited for this ‘new life’. The second real work starts or you get bored, you’ll be gone. I’d give it till the end of fall.” He takes another step. My heart is pounding out of my chest and he looks me up and down.

“You ever been in a small town in the winter? None of the luxuries you have the big city. You know you have to get your own firewood, cook your own food, trudge through the snow into town,” he takes another step.

“Just because I lived in the city doesn’t mean I don’t know how to work hard. I’ve worked for everything I’ve gotten, you don’t know anything-“ his hands come down on the table on either side of me. I try my hardest not to jump, but I failed.

“I know enough, princess,” he grits out through clenched teeth. “Everyone is the same. The second things get tough, they bail. You can’t trust anyone, ever.” His eyes are locked on to mine. My breath hitches.

“We don’t need some outsider coming in here to fix all of our problems. We can fix it ourselves. I already tried telling Adeline that I would help Ryis fix the bridge, but her nose is always stuck in that notebook,” he says, his gaze falling to the side. “It’s fine though. You’ll leave eventually, and it will be on us again. And we’ll be fine without you.”

“I’m not going anywhere, March. You’ll have to get used to it, or don’t. It won’t make a difference to me,” I spit out. His eyes snap back to me and he smirks.

“Oh really? It won’t make a difference at all?” He questions and tilts his head. His gaze falls to my mouth and he slowly drags it back up. He leans in so close I can feel his breath on my face. My breathing stills. Any fake confidence I had vanishes immediately. “Is that a challenge, princess?” He barely whispers, and I don’t even believe he said it at first. I open my mouth to respond then-

“MARCH! How’s it going with that new-“ Olric bursts through the door. March doesn’t move an inch. “Bro what’s going-“

The second March drops his arm from my right side I jolt out of his grasp. “Nothing! March was just, um, showing me these new tools he was working on! Thank you, March I will, uh, be back to purchase that new pickaxe.” I stumble over my words and rush towards the door, my face blood red. I try and use my hair to cover my face. “Good to see you Olric! I’ll, uh, see you both at the Inn tonight!” I rush out the door.

I walk back to my farm, waving at everyone as I pass, but I don’t hear a word they say. My head is spinning. What just happened?

[saintsugu]

BAD HABITS. KINKTOBER DAY 2

rating: mature; mdni

pairing: rindou haitani x fem!reader

wc: 6k

content warnings: explicit content, bonten timeline rindou, sort of cnc/dubcon, drugs (pcp + laced weed) + a fairly unrealistic depiction of a high (rindou’s side), mentions of violence/murder, degradation, slight slut shaming, choking, oral (f!receiving), slight usage of a safe word/action.

author’s note: reposted fic !

You let out a deep breath as nicotine saturates your senses. It’s a feeling you’ve been familiar with for a while now. Your body feels lighter and your mind is more at ease. You know that it isn’t true peace, but it’s nice to feel it momentarily—even if it’s fake. 

Everyone has their vice, their own little escape from this wretched life that they lead. Drugs, sex, alcohol, whatever it might be. Whether we recognize it or not, we use it, and we abuse it to help ourselves. 

You haven’t really found yours. You’ve found small things that help you calm down and cope a bit, but you haven't found that special depravity. You’ve smoked several times with Sanzu— even dropped acid with him on occasion— but it never appealed to you as much as it did him. Ran’s invited you to go drinking as well, but you aren’t a heavy drinker like him. No matter what it is, nothing gets you off like it does with the other people here. Maybe it’s because you have a bigger chip on your shoulder— or maybe there’s no reason at all. 

The sound of traffic has always helped calm you, though. You figure that it’s because you grew up around it. Since getting high or drunk doesn’t scratch that itch, over the years you’ve found that the best thing you can do is go up to the roof for a smoke. 

“Thought I’d find you up here.” 

“I came up here for peace and quiet,” you don’t need to turn around to know who’s standing behind you. “It’s no longer peaceful or quiet with someone else up here.”

“Funny.” It’s as if you can hear the way he rolls his eyes when he speaks.Rindou knows exactly why you come up here, so he sees straight through your answer easily. “Why’d you really come up here?”

“Sanzu’s high out of his mind and it’s annoying me.” He hums in agreement, but doesn’t say anything; as if he’s waiting for you to continue. “And I’m sick of all this infighting,” you begrudgingly admit. 

Today, nothing went as planned and everyone’s been blaming each other. Takeomi pissed Rindou off during the mission, so naturally, Ran is pissed at Takeomi. Sanzu somehow believes that Kakucho is at fault, and like usual, Kokonoi has done nothing but fuel the fire with his snide remarks. The worst part about it all, is that you don’t even care. You just want everyone to shut the fuck up— or for better lack of words, you just want some goddamn peace and quiet. 

“There it is.” Finally, you turn your head around, solely to shoot him a glare. “Come back inside with me. I’ll get your mind off things. We can fuck around, it’ll be fun.”

“Wow. Way to sugarcoat things, Rin’.” 

“I didn’t mean it like that.” You hear his quiet chuckle decorating the words, and you swear your lips curl up in amusement at the sound. 

“So what, you have new drugs you want to try?” You raise an eyebrow, exhaling a cloud of smoke into the air. 

“Correct, but you don’t have to try them with me. Just want you to keep me company, in case I, you know, go into cardiac arrest or something.” A small laugh bubbles out of your throat, despite the joke really not being that funny. You worry about Rindou a lot— all of them, truthfully. Your feet feel heavier than usual as you follow him back down the stairwell. 

Rindou is a lot different when the lights go dark and you’re left to yourselves. He’s a lot less guarded. You figure it’s just because he doesn’t have to worry about keeping up appearances, with Bonten or his brother, but either way, it makes you feel good that he trusts you enough to be a little vulnerable around you. 

“So, what is Sanzu on for him to be pissing you off so much?” He muses. 

“Shit ton of acid,” you answer, cringing at the memory of the man talking in his circles. He was rambling on and on, yet you couldn’t even understand his words due to the speed at which they left his mouth. You nodded in your head out of pure confusion for nearly 15 minutes before escaping to the roof. “He was about to snort a line before I left, too.”

“I don’t blame you for leaving.”

Currently, you’re staying at Bonten’s base. Most everyone has their own place, but sometimes they still stay here regardless. Sometimes it’s safer, and for others, it’s just more convenient. For you, it’s the latter. 

The only current people occupying the building right now are you, Sanzu, and Rindou. Haruchiyo’s access to drugs is more limited when he’s at his own place— due to Mikey’s rules— so he ends up spending more time at the base. And Rindou is only here because his brother’s fling of the week is staying in their shared apartment. You, on the other hand, don’t really have a reason. Just like them, you have your own place and you go back to it sometimes, but it feels so lonely compared to here. 

The elevator stops on the fifth floor, which serves as a lobby and leads to everybody’s rooms. When the doors open, Sanzu is sprawled out on the couch. Little white lines decorate the glass coffee table, as well as a credit card and a few opened pill bottles. Sanzu isn’t going to die from a gun or a blade— you swear  his own addiction is what will kill him in the end; you pray that you won’t be around to see it happen.

“What do you have in store for us today?” You ask as you follow him into his room and he closes the door behind you. 

His room is fairly bland. The walls are coated with the same base of gray that decorates yours as well as every other executive. The room’s layout is similar to your own, but with his bed against the middle of the wall, it feels a little less spacious. Small piles of clothes clutter his wooden floor— taking up whatever space isn’t already covered by his rug. It’s not exactly messy, per say, but it’s not spotless, either. 

It’s probably because you were just outside, but you can’t help but notice how incredibly hot it is in Rindou’s room. It’s nothing he hasn’t already seen, so you have no qualms about unbuttoning your dress shirt and letting it hang open. Still, you don’t miss the way lavender eyes flit down to the blue fabric for a moment. 

“Let me find it.” His words are mumbled together as he kneels before the nightstand beside his bed. “I hid it in case that little shit out there came looking for it.”

It’s noisy as he knocks around things in the drawer, not trying to even be remotely gentle as he looks for it. It doesn’t take long for him to shut the drawer and stand up with a small baggie of pills in his hand. 

“Ta-da,” he simply says, sliding onto the bed with you. 

You aren’t as knowledgeable as the two bonten executives when it comes to drugs, so you ask, “What is it?” 

“Angel dust.” There’s a small grin on his face as he opens the bag. “Knabbed it off the shipment from last week.”

“Ah,” you nod, watching as he pulls out three of the little white capsules. “You seem excited.”

“Cause I am,” he chuckles. “I’ve been wanting to try this shit for ages. Do you think three is too much?”

You softly nod your head in agreement. “Maybe a bit,” watching as he drops a pill back into the bag and the leftovers into his mouth. 

There’s a soft smile on his face as he turns his gaze to you. “Now we wait.”

For a while, you were against this—the drugs, but you learned to deal with it, even to participate in it. You’re a fugitive, a truth that came a little too harshly for you. You realized that in the end, it really didn’t matter for people like you. You’re able to gamble with your own life as much as you want because you have no idea the next time you’ll come home from the field. So, people like Sanzu and Rindou will find their freedom in little white pills, while you sit back and watch, silently hoping nothing will go wrong. 

A few minutes of silence pass before he speaks up in an alarmed tone. “Oh shit, I got something special for you, too,” he mumbles as he crawls off the bed and returns to his place on the floor. “I almost forgot.”

His search is faster than it was the first time, but as he stands up, you watch him stumble a bit. His hands are quick to grab the edge of his nightstand and you swear that his grip is so tight that he could splinter the wood. 

“Rin, you okay?” You figure the drugs are kicking in, but even so, neither of you know how thiswill affect him. 

“Yeah.” His voice is shaky and you watch as he squeezes his eyes shut; more than likely trying to focus on something other than whatever shit he’s currently seeing. “Just give me a moment.”

You’re sitting up now, eyes trained on him and chest filling with worry. He takes a deep breath and then returns to his spot on the bed. “‘m okay now.”

While he changes the cart in his wax pen, you settle behind him. You let your hand run up the sides of his arms until they reach his neck. He lets out a low and quiet moan as you dig your fingers into the skin. You continue on and when he drops his head, taking it as an opportunity to press a kiss into the side of his neck.

His voice sounds light as he chuckles, “Shit, you’re good at this.” You feel him shiver as you lick a stripe up his neck and he’s quickly turning his head away. “Stop distracting me or I’ll never get this shit done.”

He returns to the work he was doing and you lean your chin on his shoulder, eyes fixed on his hands and the way they move. He swaps out the carts and throws the old one into the trash can a few feet in front of him. “Here, it’s for you.”

“Ooh, lucky me,” you chuckle, taking the device in your hand and lifting it to your lips. 

You take three large inhales and return to your assault on his neck as you wait for them to take effect. 

In contrast to your usual highs, it only takes about five minutes for it to start to settle in your system. The hits wash over you like a tidal wave. Usually, three would barely be anything for you, but this… “Holy shit, this isn’t regular weed, is it?” 

“It's spiced,” he answers, words sounding tired and a bit slurred. 

Intense wouldn’t even be the right word to describe it. You can feel everything and it’s almost nauseating. Even the low-light of Rindou’s ceiling fan is overwhelming your brain. There’s an odd buzzing from outside in the hall, and it’s far too loud for your liking. God, even your clothes make your skin itch. In an attempt to feel better, you lay back down on the bed. As soon as your back hits the matress, he’s there right next to you, greedy hands pulling you closer to him.

You’ve had highs like this before, but never from a pen or weed in general. You’re too aware of everything going on. Rindou’s hands on your body, his warm breath on your skin, the cool draft coming from the vent in the corner of his room—hell, even the clothes you’re wearing. 

You flinch as his tongue makes contact with your skin and it’s no surprise that you’re also more sensitive. You suck in a deep breath, trying to focus on something in the room to calm yourself down. “You didn’t just bring me up here for drugs, did you, Rin?” You both know the answer to that question and it’s only confirmed when he chuckles into your skin. 

“Maybe not,” he mumbles, not giving you any sort of warning as he sinks his teeth into your tender skin. 

“Fuck,” you swear, eyes snapping shut as soon as you feel it. It feels good, yet it’s nearly overwhelming. For some reason, you think eliminating your sight will help rein yourself in. “Rin, you can’t just do that.” 

He doesn’t respond, simply flashing you a lazy smirk—that you can’t even see— and tonguing over the fresh mark. “Baby,” he slurs out, fingers beginning to dig into your waist. “Want you.” He lays a kiss on the base of your neck. “Need you.” Another on your collarbone. 

It feels so different from every other time you’ve been with him. You’ve been high during sex before, but it’s never been like this. Every touch lights your skin on fire, every word makes your mind cloud with lust. At this point, even if you aren’t voicing it, you’d do anything to fuck him. 

“Then take me.” What’s meant to be a statement, comes out as a quiet moan. 

If someone were to ask, you wouldn’t be able to pinpoint when exactly this started happening. You’ve known Rin for years and it just  of…of…a happened. 

You aren’t able to remember the details, but you can remember the fact that you were both drunk and in desperate need of physical contact. It started off as a mistake, then an outlet for stress, and then somewhere along the lines, it morphed into a habit.

Deft fingers fiddle with the waistband of your slacks, and you can tell that he momentarily forgets about the zipper and button because he lets out a frustrated grunt as he tugs at them. You move to do it yourself, but he quickly realizes his mistakes. 

You lift your hips when you feel him clutch the fabric and he’s quick to tug the clothing as far down your legs as he can. You help him the rest of the way and your pants end up somewhere on the floor. 

“Fuck,” he groans as he sits up, movements a bit sluggish from the drugs. A chill is sent down your spine as his hands grip both of your thighs, spreading them a bit and making you involuntarily clench at the feeling. You swear you can see him drooling a bit at the view. 

You try to close them, to push against his hands, but like every other time you’ve tried before, he’s far too strong. 

Today’s mission was especially stressful for the both of you. Unncessary killing took place, and while that wouldn’t normally be a big deal for someone as famous as one of the Haitiani brothess, he knows how you feel about shit like that. You aren’t proud of your ‘line of work’, no one here really is (with the exception of Sanzu, maybe), but he can tell that your moodin particulary gets affected by that. 

When you two got back— even though you weren’t sure when it would be— you knew you should be ready for him to pull you into his room and fuck you into the mattress. 

You made a point of putting on Rindou’s favorite lingerie: a lace and flowery set, a thong with a matching bralette, in a teal color that ‘reminds me of my hair in the old days’. Now, you’re starting to rethink your decision, due to that look in his eyes when he sees them. 

“Shit, Rin, give me…wait.” Words are failing you. Your brain feels very overwhelmed. It’s not that you don’t want this, you just don’t know how well you’re going to be able to handle it. 

He easily keeps them spread, pinning them to the sheets as if to prove some kind of point. “Gotta taste you ‘fore I go insane.”

He’s painfully slow as he licks a stripe against your clothed cunt. Even though he’s out of it, he’s still using his old tricks. 

With your eyes pointed at the ceiling and your stomach tightened out of pure anticipation, you feel the man tap his fingers against the soft skin of your thigh. 

“Eyes on me, doll.”

Even his words are setting off something inside of you. It’s as if whatever you took opened up a whole new part of your brain and your body. Now your eyes are staring deep into his as he carefully pulls your panties down. The tips of his fingers drag alongside your hips, the calloused skin tickling your own in a way that makes you almost shiver. 

You can’t tell if it’s from the contact, the anticipation of what he’s planning, or just simply the look in his eyes. With the flimsy material out of the way, he runs his tongue over his upper lip and leans closer. 

It’s easy to feel his hot breath against your bare skin and it drives you crazy. He starts by leaving messy kisses on your inner thighs, sucking multiple bruises as he goes. He’s surprisingly teasing for a man who’s desperate. 

“Rin, fuck,” you swear, breath shaky. “Just do something.”

The first contact his tongue has with your clit, has you quietly moaning, head pushed back a little as you savor the feeling. Sadly, the feeling is short-lived as he quickly pulls away and presses a kiss against your thigh to get your attention. 

He stares up at you through tired eyes, and you swear that you have to hold back a moan at his words. “I gave you an order, didn’t I?”

Once your eyes are trained back on him, he returns to his previous actions. His tongue licks a long stripe in between your folds and then a few kitten licks against your clit. He repeats this a few times and it easily gets you borderline panting—especially with the added effect of the drugs. 

Your hand finds its way to his hair, and he lets out a deep groan as you grip the strands and push him deeper into your pussy. After one last lick, he takes the puffy bud into his mouth, eliciting a heavenly sound from you. He moans in harmony with you, fingers digging deeper into the flesh of your thighs. 

He finds it so cute the way you’re fighting the urge to close your eyes— the way you’re trying your best to obey him. After all, it’s the least you can do after shutting him out all day. He was really worried about you, and it’s up to you to make it up to him with those pretty moans of yours. 

You don’t question the way one of his hands leaves your leg, but your eyes shoot open when he pushes two fingers inside of you. 

“R-Rin,” you manage to say, the feeling more intense than it has been in a long time. “I don’t think—”

You whine at the loss of contact as he pulls his lips away to speak, resting his head against your inner thigh. “How do you think you’re gonna be able to take my cock, if you can’t even handle two fingers?”

You don’t even have a response, too focused on the way the pads of his fingers brush against your g-spot with ease. He’s sloppier than usual. He doesn’t have those precise and practiced movements that usually have you screaming his name. The drugs are probably responsible for it, but your own drugs are making the experience more than enjoyable. 

“Rin,” you moan out, barely even sure of what you’re about to say. 

“What is it, doll?” His voice sounds tired, yet it maintains that teasing lilt. 

While you struggle to answer what exactly it is, he busies himself by sucking on the fat of your thigh; no doubt littering it with marks. 

“I need more.” You barely choke out the words, eyebrows furrowed as you stare at the man in between your legs. 

“Sweetheart, no offense, but you can barely handle this.” To further get his point across, he abruptly presses hard into your sweet spot. 

You can’t control the loud moan that leaves your lips as your eyes roll back. Your hips jerk against his mouth and you know that you’re almost at your breaking point. 

“Besides, weren’t you just complaining that it was too much?” 

It’s that unparalleled confidence that has always drawn you towards him. Even though he’s probably tripping out of his mind right now, he’s still as cocky as ever. As an executive, you have a lot riding on your shoulders; a lot of responsibility and a lot of choices to make. So it’s nice to have someone take control every now and then, even if it’s just during sex. 

“Please don’t stop.” You can’t even register how loud your cries are, your mind too focused on him to worry about keeping quiet. “Please, Rin, please.”

He can feel the way your thighs shake beside his head and goddamnit, it’s really been way too long since he’s gotten you like this. There’s only been time for quickies before meetings or after missions. He hasn’t had enough time to get you shaking for him in a long time, and fuck, has he missed it. 

“R-Rin,” you whine. “Rin. Want to—shit.”

“What’s that?” He hums, a condescending tone clothed by faux sympathy. “What do you need?”

You sound high out of your mind when you slur the words, “I want to cum on your cock.”

He can feel himself twitch when you speak. On one hand, he wants to make you work harder for it, but on the other hand—the compulsive hand that currently has a lot more control in his decision-making— he wants to fuck you, and he wants to fuck you right now. 

“Fuck, you’re so needy.” The strangled grunt he lets out sounds animalistic as he pulls away from you. 

You whine at the loss of contact, but he successfully shuts you up with his mouth on yours. His hands fumble with his belt as he nips at your lips, too high to worry about how he’s wasting all of your arousal by accidentally getting them on his pants. The kiss is sloppy, all teeth and tongue as he leans his frame against you. 

You’re too busy entangling your hands in his hair to notice how far along he is in stripping, the only way you can know is when you hear the sound of his belt hitting the floor. 

“Gonna fuck you real good.” Everything he does and says gets you even more drunk. You’re drunk on his taste, his touch, just him. It might be an exaggeration, but you’ve never wanted to fuck him more than in this moment. 

You whine his name, hands grabbing at his jaw to pull him closer to you. You moan into his mouth when you feel his tip push into you, slowly starting to stretch you out. 

“Fuck, you’re so sensitive,” he curses at the way you tighten around him, making it almost impossible for him to even bottom out. 

If it wasn’t for the drugs numbing his senses, he might’ve not been able to handle this. The way you're squeezing him and calling his name, even in this drugged-up state, he’s going to need to get a grip or else he might not last for long. 

You arch your back against the mattress as he finally fills you up to the hilt. Your hands travel down to his back, and he moans when you drag your nails against his skin, leaving bright red lines in their wake. 

During the time you’ve spent with him, you’ve learned all of his little tells, and he’s done the same with you. You know what makes him tick, what his breaking point is, and how exactly to get him there. You also know that he has a fixation with pain. 

Neither of you have talked about it; there hasn’t been a need. It was understood that he liked it in a sexual sense, but for a long time, you didn’t know the nature of it. He can be sadistic when he fights and has always gotten a sense of fulfillment when his skin is painted red, but that doesn’t transfer over to the bedroom. When he’s here with you, he wants to be hurt. Whether that be you pulling his hair or digging your nails into him until he bleeds, it drives him crazy. 

His strokes are messy. It’s more of him rutting his hips against yours, rather than fluid motions. Even though it isn’t precise like it usually is, it still feels so damn good. His face is buried into the crook of your neck, hot breath fanning against your skin. 

Your chest is pressed against his, nipples rubbing against him through the thin fabric of your bralette as you push your head into the pillow. “Rin,” you gasp out as his teeth bite down on your neck, quickly soothing the mark with his tongue. When his hand slips down and he messily rubs the pads of his finger against your clit, you cum on the spot. 

He lets out a growl into your neck as you clamp down on his cock, whispering words of how fucking dirty you are. He wants to cum so bad, wants to fill you up to the brim so much that it hurts, but due to the hallucinogens in his system, he needs extra stimulation to get to that point. 

His pace never falters, continuously fucking into your abused cunt. It doesn’t take long for tears to well up in your eyes. 

“Rindou, s-slow down.” Unfortunately, your cries fall on deaf ears. He’s too focused to listen to the weight of your words. “Fuck, I can’t—”

“You can and you will,” he grunts. 

It hurts but you’d be lying if you said it didn’t also feel good. You don’t know if you physically can take it, but goddamnit, you’ll try your best. You know that no matter how fucked out of his mind he is, he’ll stop if you say the safe word, so you’ll keep that tucked away until the last possible moment.

Tears fall down your cheeks and Rindou has to admit that it has to be one of the prettiest sights he’s seen. There’s part of him that feels bad for this, for pushing you to your limits, but seeing you like this makes him want to tear you apart. He wants to get you to those limits and push you beyond that point. 

“God, you’re so fucking tight. Acting like you don’t like this… dirty fucking slut.” His words are followed by a loud and almost pornographic moan. “Sucking me in like this, but bitching about how you can’t take it. P-Pick one—fuck.”

It doesn’t take long for you to cum again. It’s more forced and rushed this time, but it still feels euphoric all the same. Now, as he still fails to slow down, you think you might actually pass out. 

You’re sobbing at this point, moaning and whining, begging him to stop, but he doesn’t. He just keeps fucking you like an animal in heat— a beast.

“Rindou, please.” You sound pathetic, you know that, but if he keeps going, he’s going to break you. 

“Shut up,” he growls, his hand finding its way to your throat. “You’ve whored yourself out to the rest of Bonten, you can handle this.”

His palm presses against the skin, fingers wrapping against the sides of your neck as he applies minimal pressure. 

“I haven’t, please, Rindou..!” You deny his accusations, desperately shaking your head. 

“Stop lying to me,” he speaks through gritted teeth as he ruts into you. “You’ve slept with my fucking brother, so you’re gonna take what I give you.”

You and Ran fooled around a long time ago, and it was also a while before anything happened between you and Rindou. He knows it was purely sex and it doesn’t bother him that much nowadays, but sometimes, the thought of anyone else getting to see you like this sends him into a feral state. 

His speed picks up and his grip on you tightens. His release is close by, right there on the tips of his fingers, but in chasing it, he’s hurting you. He should feel bad, he partially does, but it feels so blissful that he can’t bring himself to stop. How can he when you’re sucking him in like this?

His palm squeezes your throat in an uncomfortable way, and just like that, your ability to breathe is out the window. It always feels good when he chokes you, but it’s not exactly rare for him to accidentally o a bit overboard.

You lightly tap your fingers against his wrist, three times to signify the ‘safeword’ just as you have every time before, but he doesn’t stop. Your eyes widen in surprise as he keeps applying pressure. At this point he’s pressing you down into the mattress. 

You repeat the action, a bit harder this time. You’re starting to panic but he continues. You trust that Rindou would and will never hurt you, not on purpose at least, but this is alarming. It’s never happened before and you don’t know why it’s happening now. Until it hits you. 

You didn’t calculate the drugs running through him. His senses are numbed, he probably can’t even feel it. You tug on his wrist with both of your hands, but it still doesn’t get through to him. You're losing your strength due to the foggy feeling in your head, and you’re starting to run  out of options. You don’t know what to do. You try and pull his hair, but his only reaction is a muffled moan into your neck. 

You’re scared. You’re tired, weak, and far past overstimulated. Now you can’t even breathe. You want to be done. You’ll suck him off so that he cums, but you can’t do this anymore—

All of those thoughts leave your head as he buries himself deep inside of you one last time and reaches his orgasm. As soon as you feel him start to fill you up, you’re cumming with him. 

“Fuck, baby—fuck, fuck, fuck,” he rambles, too lost in pleasure to make coherent statements. 

His grip starts to loosen up after his high peaks and you gasp for air as it does. Your body is still shaking despite the pressure on your throat being gone. You genuinely thought you were about to pass out. That’s…never happened before. Rindou has always been tentative and in tune with your reactions. The only other time you had to use your safeword, he was backing off in an instant. You let out a shaky breath as you try to gather yourself on the comedown from your high. 

When your eyes finally land back on Rindou, he looks scared shitless. Even though he’s exhausted, his energy comes back in the form of panic. He pulls his half-softened dick out as he leans back to look at you. “Oh my god, are you okay? I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

“No, I just—”

“I’m so sorry baby, I don’t—I’m sorry I was so rough. Shit,” he curses at himself. 

“Rindou, calm down.” You rub your finger against his cheek and the way he leans into your hand is fucking adorable. “You didn’t mean to, you just didn’t notice when I tapped your wrist.’”

“Fuck,” he groans, laying his head on your chest andturning his cheek to press it against your skin. “I’m so sorry, doll.”

“Don’t be, it’s okay.” Okay isn’t the right word at this moment, but you don’t need him any more panicked or upset than he already is. All that will do is make you more upset in turn. You’ll discuss this again, once you’re both sober. 

“What can I do?” He nuzzles his head into you, laying between your legs. “Would a bath help?”

“Yeah, it would,” you smile at him, running your hand through his lavender hair. 

What started as a hookup and led to a habit, has now turned into something you genuinely couldn’t live without. 

In the end, 

Rindou is your vice. 

tagging: @chaoticmoonave @dilfhos @kkittycries @enchantedforest-network @seraphdreams

[superfallingstars]

Hello, do you have any marauders fic recs? I’m a big marauders fan but I’m so tired of reading fics where they feel completely out of character, and I feel like you might know something I don’t

Aw man I’m the wrong person to ask for this, I don’t really read fics very often lol. I’ll try to enlist the help of some people whose Marauders opinions I trust and who might have better recs than me (tbh I’m also curious to hear), but I’ll share the few that I’ve come across, too. Apologies if you've already read them.

I think my most relevant rec is The Night Will Always Win by betweenfactandbreakfast, which is a canon-compliant Marauders era fic from 1975-1981. Admittedly I haven’t finished it – tbh I liked it so much that I had to stop reading it, which sounds so incredibly dumb now that I wrote it out, but I was legitimately getting pissed off that I had to do things in real life instead of reading it lmao. Time to take a step back...! Either way, I’ve really enjoyed it so far. And I’ve seen @seriousbrat's inbox turn into a battleground of endless Snape vs. Marauders discourse, so I know their feelings on the characters are pretty similar to mine lol (and hiii I know you have been in this fandom for much longer than I have, so maybe you have some good recommendations?). Basically this is a good fic if you want everyone to be a terrible person <3

The other fic I can rec is Have Your Cake and Eat It by cunegonde, aka my favorite fic of all time (that I could scream about literally foreverrrr but I’ll try to reel myself in!). This is a good fic if you want everyone to be a good person. Also this fic has time travel in it, so it’s like, kind of Marauders era, but not quite? Even though it’s kind of cliche, it’s also incredibly earnest and thoughtfully done, and it has interesting (and imo, realistic!) characterizations of each of the Marauders. Tbf I’m definitely biased toward this author’s work because they basically only write Snupin (my personal fave pairing), but reading their stuff is like, genuinely why are you writing Harry Potter fanfiction and not a full-length original novel, because holy fuck I think you could actually pull that off. Like, I loved this fic so much that I (person who doesn't read fanfic) immediately read everything else they wrote and finished it all in two days... Also this fic made me cry for literally an hour straight (probably the strongest emotional reaction I’ve had to any piece of media ever lol) – even though I knew what was coming. It was just that good.

Unfortunately that’s literally all I got lol. I’m going to tag some people who I think have similar takes on the Marauders as I do – @seriousbrat @remus-poopin @big-scary-bird @saintsenara – hiii, add on if you’d like. And anyone else who has recommendations of Marauders fics with good characterization, feel free to chime in!

[fallenangelics]

Up Close And Personal With His Number One Fan

PAIRING | Alastor/Lucifer Mange | Morningstar

WORD COUNT | 1656

SUMMARY | For weeks now Lucifer has felt the beady eyes of some creature watching him and for weeks he had been trying to subtly figure out what it was. He didn't realise that Husk would be the helping hand that he needed or just what type of predicament he would get himself into.

RATING | Mature

WARNING/TAG(S) | No Archive Warnings Apply

A/N | @rubra-wav created the beautiful banner below so go check out their content since they have some amazing stuff.

EVENTS | @eclipsingbingo | Obedience | @kinky-things-happen | Tentacles | @fandombingo | Lucifer x Alastor | @multifandom-flash | Hates Being Touched

AO3 LINK | Read Here

Upon deciding he was going to stay at his daughter's hotel, Lucifer always felt the irking feeling of being watched. From the moment he exited his chambers up until he turned himself in for the night, he could always feel the stare of two beady eyes on him. 

At first, it had been the most annoying thing Lucifer had encountered, well, maybe not the most annoying since he had met a handful of Sinners that seemed to piss him off more so than the usual batch. Whenever he would catch a glimpse of swirling eyes they would vanish without a trace, leaving his skin prickling. Looming figures of shadows could be seen out of the corner of his eye, making him question if he was seeing things when he would turn to try and glance at it only for it to disappear with a wink.

Now though, it had become almost a part of his daily routine. Swirls of darkness seemed to linger at his feet when he would step out of his room, welcoming him to a new day as he exited his room and began making his way down to the ground level where most of the hotel residents lingered and where his daughter would be preparing for a less-then productive day. 

It almost seemed as if whatever was watching him was growing more confident, letting itself linger a little longer when Lucifer would try to whirl on it, letting him see whisps of it before it would vanish just like Lucifer had become accustomed to. It made his decision to not immediately reveal the entity when these occurrences first began happening more rewarding in some way. As if earning the trust of some lousy stalker was something that the King of Hell had to do. 

Reaching the foyer of the hotel, Lucifer’s eyes landed on the oddly placed bar and its tender as they were the only ones currently in the vicinity, everyone else either still harbouring in their rooms, loitering somewhere else in the hotel, or making their way through the Pride Ring. Sauntering his way over without the thought of it being too early to start drinking, Lucifer ordered a drink from Husk, letting the cat decide on what exact drink he had. 

“Don’t you care that it’s watching you?” Husk mumbled the question as he placed down a short glass in front of Lucifer, sliding it closer so it was within reach of Lucifer’s nimble fingers. As Lucifer raised his gaze from the drink to Husk’s face, a hint of confusion sparking on his features that contradicted the understanding, Husk continued, “It tried doing the same thing to me but once I figured out what it was I went right up to him and told him to screw off.”

“Oh, I don’t mind,” Lucifer said aloud, voice raised slightly to make sure that the entity caught gist of what he was saying. He saw Husk’s eyes flicker over his shoulder, locking onto what was surely watching him. “Rather it’s a pity that it hasn’t become daring yet. To think of all the things we could’ve done together by now if it had just stepped out of the shadows.”

“What…?” The words may have confused Husk, evident by his reaction, but they stirred along whatever was lurking. 

Lucifer could feel it grow closer, not even a second wasted as it slithered towards him. Watching Husk slink back as a blanket of warmth wrapped itself around him, Lucifer felt more than he saw the ghosts of hands cascading up his arms, long, sharp nails tearing against his skin. Flush against his back, he could feel the entity trying to close in, trapping Lucifer between the bar counter and whatever it was behind him. 

Husk stared at the scene for a few moments before shaking his head and discarding everything he had been doing prior to Lucifer’s arrival. Muttering under his breath as he exited the bar, slinking back off to wherever he had come from, “I ain’t dealing with this shit this early in the morning.”

Not caring for his departure, Lucifer slowly picked his drink back up and brought it to his lips, taking a slow sip of it as the entity behind him tried to engulf him more. Trails of shadows wafted into Lucifer’s vision, making its presence known as all patience fled from the entity's body after keeping their distance for so long.

“You are sure in a rush,” Lucifer joked as he finished off his drink, licking his lips as he placed the empty glass back down on the counter. The air around him seemed to thicken, an almost static effect slicing through it as Lucifer spoke to the entity. The noise sounded vaguely familiar but Lucifer didn’t care enough to waste time trying to pinpoint where he had heard it from. Shifting in his seat so he could turn around and face the creature, Lucifer was met with a shadowy mass. “If I knew all it would take for you to show yourself was an invitation then I would’ve done so sooner.”

The shadow didn’t say anything, just grinned. The smile spoke more words than Lucifer could’ve imagined the entity to. While it was looming, it was also welcoming, as if trying to entice him in. The shadow didn’t stop in its journey to try and engulf him, whisps of darkness swirling around him and gripping to his skin. 

Craning his head back so he could take all of the shadow in, some qualities of him seemed to ring some bells in his head. Two ears stood large on the top of the shadow’s head, two smaller twig-like antlers in between them; A coat seemed to flare out around where the shadow's hips would be; And Lucifer felt himself craning his neck back at a familiar angle, an angle in which an ache in his neck had appeared from how often he was being bugged by…

“Alastor?” Lucifer couldn’t help but question, finally piecing everything together as he stared at the shadow that he sometimes found loitering when Alastor was in a room. The grin on the shadow’s face faltered for a few seconds, never completely dropping but lessening in width.

Shaking its head at Lucifer, the shadow seemed slightly put off by the uttered name of its owner, but when nothing seemed to come of it in the passing seconds, it grew some of its confidence back as it advanced towards Lucifer again. The extended whisps of darkness also seemed to be steady as they curled up and around Lucifer’s neck, tilting his head further back even if the hold felt feather-light.

Even though it was shadows that were taking hold of him, Lucifer couldn’t help but feel warm in their hold, sicking into it as his eyes drooped slightly. Staring up at Alastor’s shadow with half-lidded eyes, Lucifer, despite himself, felt himself relax and allow the shadow’s hold on him to grow. 

Leaning forward, the shadow’s face was mere inches away from his, a long, slippery black tongue poking out of its mouth and closing in on Lucifer’s face. Closing his eyes fully and waiting for the contact, Lucifer let his name slip out of his mouth once more, “Alastor.”

A static tore through the air, drowning out everything else in the room. What had once been warm turned to freezing cold and slimy as the soft hold turned harsh. Snapping his eyes open, Lucifer first took notice of how there were no longer shadows wafting around his body but thick tentacles that seemed to want to squeeze the life out of him. He could feel his neck start to constrict due to the pressure around it, his eyes now darting up to the face mere inches away from his.

In all his glory, the Radio Demon stood in front of him, a large grin set in place on his face. 

“What do we have here?” The static only picked up once Alastor spoke, his grin turning devilish as he stared at Lucifer as if he were prey. The shadow had fled to behind Alastor, standing behind as he watched Alastor take control of what was meant to be his. So that was why the shadow had been so cautious when Lucifer had said Alastor’s name. “I must say, with my shadow being disobedient, I didn’t expect to find you in its grasp.”

“Yeah, well then you had to go and ruin all the fun,” Lucifer allowed himself to stay in the tentacle's hold for a few moments longer before with a snap of his fingers it was all gone. One of Alastor’s brows raised as he witnessed a part of his power vanish off the face of Hell for a few seconds before he could feel them wiggling back to him. Pointing a finger at Alastor and going to shove it into his chest, Alastor shoots straight up to avoid it, one of his ears flicking as he stares down at Lucifer with his cane held out in front of him. “Since I have a negative Nancy like you spoiling my parade, I’m going elsewhere. I do hope your shadow is disobedient again.”

There was an amusement to Lucifer’s words and an underlining of something that Alastor felt a repulsion growing for as Lucifer stood up and began making his way back to the stairs before blinking out of existence. When he was gone, Alastor rounded on his shadow, watching as the creature prepared to sneak off again. 

“Don’t you dare,” Alastor hissed, his ears laying flat against his head. Though his shadow seemed to be paying attention, Alastor could feel it itching to get out again. With a sigh, he felt himself engulfed by his shadows and taken back to his room where he had previously been before being summoned. In the confines of his own room, Alastor questioned with uncertainty, “...Negative Nancy?”

[yanderederee]

I want a yandere too. I want someone to love me even with my flaws, bc I tend to lose focus and I do things last min and I'm neurodivegent and I feel like most of my yanderes (especially baji) wouldn't judge me or see my as weird.

Just wanted to pit this out there bc I saw your tags on my last asks and I wanted to respond to that and ig start a discussion or suggestion?

I hope u accept.

For a while now, I’ve been shifting this ask through my head to conjure a proper response …

For starters, I forgot Yandere was part of the prompt I started writing; so I see this as headcanon in Baji’s actions/reactions in types of situation. I could write a whole separate indulgence piece on how yandere!Baji would develop past this:)

I find myself taking a realistic approach to it all. At first/in youth, I don’t think Baji has enough maturity to really understand other people’s neurological/psychological struggles. He’ll understand there’s some tension in those aspects, but I feel that Baji would be quick to frustrate.

Baji doesn’t understand why you’re suddenly giving him the cold shoulder, when in reality you’ve found yourself non-verbal. It wasn’t that fucking hard to place a food order?

Let Baji be dramatic at first. Let him pick apart what’s actually happening.

Once he sees the way you struggle and try to muster the courage to ask for a refill of your drink, he’s in awe with how relieved and proud of yourself you are after managing the small task.

He’d probably seem pissed off and go quiet himself, but it’s cause Baji is mulling the idea over in his head how you can’t to feel that way.

“What gets you so nervous about being in public anyway?” Baji asks blatantly.

You felt this question at the tip of his tongue all day, and while his actions were putting you more on edge, you noticed little details.

You would notice how his tone is lower, not scowling or rolling his eyes at you anymore. You could tell he felt guilty for his immaturity, after his own actions and choice of words.

Just, the way you were so quick to put up your defenses confused him.

“There’s a lot of … unknowns, I guess.. it doesn’t really make sense to me either, Keisuke… I just— my body reacts like I’m doing something, wrong. Like, I’m inconveniencing everyone around me. If I wasn’t standing here, If I wasn’t taking up someone else’s time, other people’s lives would be more… convenient.”

You could tell you were barely getting anywhere with him, but he was trying to understand. So you kept trying to help him understand.

“L-like even now… if I hadn’t dragged you out to hang out with me today, your time could have been better spent. Mikey and Draken invited you out right? But you declined on my behalf..” you smiled, but that same tinge of guilt hit hard.

“Yeah, doing the same lame shit I’ve done for the last week, no creative pass times with those bone heads sometimes,” he laughed. “You don’t think I’m having fun now?” Baji asked.

“Well, it can be hard to tell,” you chuckled back, weary of meeting his gaze. “I can’t really tell if I’m being entertaining enough, or when people get tired of my needless input. I’m.. kinda slow, I guess, I lose focus on what’s happening sometimes and suddenly I’m not on the same page as everyone anymore. But, like, with everything.”

“Does that make sense?” You sighed, heart palpitating in suspense.

It felt good to vent out all the things that made you anxious, especially when you can’t tell why most of the time. Maybe in time, it would.

Baji cycled through your words, silently.

“I… think so.” He mumbled, scratching the back of his head.

“That part of you’s kinda, what I like about you, though?”

Your eyes twitched, and with an unbelieving look, you eye him cautiously.

“Like yesterday, when you spaced out while Chifuyu and I were arguing about Gekijyo, you suddenly jumped right in with a whole other thing from left field. It was hilarious, but I just remember thinking, ‘who the hell thinks of stuff like that?!’ In-in a good way… you’re pretty smart, yaknow. I really respect the way you handle yourself when you’re caught off guard.”

“Honestly, it doesn’t make sense to me, how you go through live so cautiously and worried all the time. But you make smart analysis out of situations that seem unwindable, and,” Baji held out his hand, and carefully pulled a stray hair from your face.

“I just can’t help but like you. You’re funny, and encouraging. When you’re comfortable, you shine. I see so much passion in you, and can’t help wanting to fuel that part of you.”

Baji gently pressed his palm against your cheek.

Sure, little things could sweep you up in thought, distracting you to the point of frustration. So long as he could keep quipping back and forth, laughing, and watching you smile so genuinely— Baji imagined he could take on some of those struggles of your behalf. Maybe, with just a little weight lifted off your conscious, he could watch you grow and eventually take them on with ease, with a smile.

꘏

Over time, Baji would pick up on any stims you had, if you had any.

Started picking up on signs that something was becoming too hard for you to handle, or perhaps comprehend.

He learned your mannerisms, and how to talk out down from any panics you may undergo.

Baji takes it upon himself to learn about the people he cherishes.

He doesn’t drop people because they’re too hard to deal with. Baji doesn’t break off ties, especially when he can tell you’re working through struggles. Physical and psychological.

Baji Keisuke would eventually become surprising attentive, but mostly only with his partner.

He doesn’t walk on egg shells around them, but he will reconsider if he’s acting too harshly.

[teddy-bear-baby]

Their Deadly Flower - Fourteen

(A/n: With the end of the fic drawing near, I'd like to take a moment to tell you all how much I appreciate everyone's support on my first fully released writing project. It really does mean the world to me and gives me the motivation to continue writing(Even if it's a slow process). I love you all, my Lovelies.)

Pairings: Ghost X GN!Reader, König X GN!Reader

Warnings: Heavy violence, mentions and depictions of torture

Prolog - One - Two - Three - Four - Five - Six - Seven - Eight - Nine - Ten - Eleven - Twelve - Thirteen - Here - Epilog

Bloomed in Poison - Prolog

     Ghost’s tired eyes widen at the sight before him. An angel had stepped into the room, covered head-to-toe in blood-soaked tactical gear. Bright white light illuminates the figure as they step further into the dimly lit room, though that could have just been his mind slipping further into madness. The lack of sleep and immense amount of pain he’s been put through have done some strange things to his head. He often found himself talking to conjured images of his team, telling them how much he missed them and needed them, only for them to disappear seconds later.

     Iris had been a particularly common and vivid hallucination. Popping up at least twice an hour to let Ghost know how well he was doing or to tell him he just needed to hold on a bit longer. Everytime it happened, he’d keep himself from blinking for as long as possible hoping to prolong the visit from his conjured lover and the brief reprieve it gave his broken mind. Even now, watching as Iris approached him with tear stained cheeks, the only thing he could focus on was keeping his eyes open to keep the illusion here with him. 

~~~~~

     Gone. She’s just gone. The moment you think you have the leverage to get Ghost and König back it all disappears. Rain had somehow vanished from the base, though you’re certain you saw her just a few hours ago in the mess hall. Maybe it was just bad timing and she had slipped out of the base just before you’d put the pieces together. Or maybe she’d seen you rushing down the hall looking like a madman on your way to tell Price. Either way, the lockdown and search of the premises had turned up nothing. She was gone without a trace of her ever having been there.

     “I can’t believe this shit,” You mumble angrily as you tighten your vest to your body, readying yourself for the suicide mission. 

     Soap sighs as he double checks the magazines for his rifle, clearly having had enough of this past week. “How did all go so sideways?”

     You couldn’t help but feel like it was mostly your fault. Obviously, Alice had it out for you for some reason, Ezekiel made that pretty evident. All the thought does is piss you off more. Deep down you knew that it wasn’t just a feeling, it was your fault. Your men were captured, in god knows what kind of state right now, and the team was going on a suicide mission because of something you’d done to Alice. Because you wouldn’t open up and spill your secrets to your ‘best friend’ or what you believed to be your best friend at the time. 

     A disheartened sigh falls from your lips as you continue to ready your gear, tightening straps and holstering weapons as your mind continues to lay all of the blame on you. It doesn’t make sense. Why go through all the trouble of hurting so many people because someone you don’t even like wouldn’t open up to you? Perhaps that wasn’t her reasoning, maybe there was something else causing her completely irrational plans. Or maybe they weren’t her plans at all.

     The emptiness of the halls and rooms has you thinking you may have been lied to. Or maybe you had the wrong warehouse. But that all-too-familiar magnetic buzz has you moving deeper into the building. Like a ship to a siren’s call, you lead the other four into the unknown, fearing the worst while hoping to find the source of your current hardship. Hoping, praying, pleading with whatever god would listen, to be reunited with König and Ghost. Whether you made it out alive didn’t matter to you anymore so long as you got them back where they were supposed to be.

      A long, disheartened sigh escapes your lips as you glance around the last hallway. Having found nothing but empty rooms and silent halls thus far, you begin to wonder if coming here was even worth it. What a waste of time and effort you may have put into a completely empty building after all the trouble you’d gone through to get here in the first place. Suddenly all the fighting and yelling at superiors didn’t seem right anymore. The fear of being fired from the only job you want, of being pushed away from your family again settles low in your gut like brick. 

     Those thoughts only last a moment as one of the men taps you on the shoulder. “There,” He nods toward one of the doors on the left side of the hall. It appears to be made out of solid metal and there’s a keypad on the wall next to the handle.

     Your brain fails you as you step closer to the door, all caution thrown to the wind as you grab the handle. It doesn’t budge, so you try again. And again. And again, until you're practically shaking the door free of its hinges trying to get it open. You want to cry as the magnetic pull grows exponentially stronger. You're on the verge of tears when you finally snap out of your little tantrum and pull yourself together. Now equipped with the knowledge that this door was extra secure, you take a step back and attempt to reassess the situation.

     Your head shakes on its own as you stare Price right in the eyes. “I won’t.” You’re not only disobeying his orders but you’re also directly telling your captain no. If it were any other man standing not even five feet from you, you’d probably be scared to death by the mere thought of telling a superior no. But this was Price after all, and he was like family to you and understood your side. “I can’t.” Your voice shakes with unshed tears as you continue shaking your head.

     Price nods slowly as he looks around at each of the soldiers standing around you both. “Alright.” He gestures to the four KorTac members. “Team two, you’re with Iris.” He steps forward and places his hand gently on your shoulder. “Lead them well. Bring ‘em home alive, yeah?” 

     Your eyes widen slightly as you take in the meaning of his words. Not even ten minutes ago, he’d been ordering you and all the others to climb into the armored vehicle so you could get the suicide mission over with. You’d stood there, unmoving as all the others clambered begrudgingly toward said vehicle. But you couldn’t move, you were glued to your spot stuck on the thought of your men being tortured for something that wasn’t their fault.

     Now, Price is telling you to take these four men and lead them on an unofficial mission to save Ghost and König. The thought of the repercussions this could cause flash only briefly through your mind as you look over at the team of operators. “Will you follow me? Allow me to lead you through enemy territory to retrieve Ghost and König?” You nearly choke on air as they all give nods and stand at attention before you. Clearly, they’d gained quite a bit of respect for you over the past two months, something you hadn’t expected at all. Especially not after the scene that had been caused during the training for your first mission with the group.

     It wouldn’t open. The stupid fucking door wouldn’t open. No matter how many different number combinations you entered, the damned thing just stayed closed. The only other way to open it would be to find a keycard with access to whatever system the electronic lock was linked to. That feels impossible considering the rest of the warehouse had been completely empty. Your hope of getting Ghost and König back was quickly diminishing as you did the only thing you could think to do, stare at it blankly.

     A growl of frustration bubbles up your throat as you throw a heavy punch at the keypad on the wall, watching as it cracks in half from the force. A few sparks fly from the broken tech as it begins to short-circuit. And then you hear, like the most beautiful song to ever be written, sung by the voice of a goddamned angel. The lock clicks open as the power supply to the keypad fails. 

     You huff out a laugh as you slowly push the door open, revealing a long concrete staircase. The irony of your anger issues tickles the back of your brain as you force yourself not to burst into a fit of insane laughter. For years you’d been swallowing down your anger, focusing it into your work and training, and all it took to overcome this obstacle was to let yourself feel frustrated again. Maybe it wasn’t so bad to show a little aggression and anger. 

     You shrug at your own thoughts and usher four men to follow you down into the basement. The cool, stale air filters through your balaclava as you descend the steps as quietly as possible. You make sure to keep your eyes trained on the opening at the bottom so nothing could take you by surprise.

     You're only three steps from the bottom when you begin to hear voices. Your hand shoots up over your shoulder as your feet come to a halt, signaling for the others to stop as well. Three distinct voices can be heard from around the corner, you’re able to pick up a bit of their conversation. 

     “Any new information from our puppets in there?” A gentle, sultry male voice questions, a small snicker following his question.     A deep, gruff male voice speaks with what sounds to be agitation. “Won’t say anything, not a word from either of ‘em.”

     A familiar sounding female voice chimes in, “Keep trying, one of them is bound to crack eventually. I’m willing to bet you could get the giant to talk first.” 

     That voice strikes an animalistic feeling in the back of your neck causing your spine to become unnaturally straight. It’s like nails on a chalkboard, raking against your eardrums in the most mind breaking ways. Rain’s face materializes behind your eyes, that all-too-familiar heat returning to your chest as you physically force yourself to stand still. The last thing you need right now is to lose what little chance you had of getting Ghost and König out of here alive. 

     Your breath catches in your throat as the realization hits you like a speeding truck. They’re alive. They’re here and alive. Relief floods your entire being, your shoulders loosening and jaw unclenching for the first time since they’d been taken. It feels as though you can breathe again, the stale air of the warehouse basement suddenly seeming as fresh as the ocean breeze. A small smile forms on your chapped lips, the thought of getting them out of here is the only strength you can find to hold back the tears.

     The sound of retreating footsteps is briefly stifled by the gruff voice once more. “I don’t think either of ‘em will crack. Been here for a week, beaten, tortured, threatened and still won’t talk? I think it’s time to give up and just off ‘em.”

     You swallow a growl that forms in your throat as you push the graphic images out of your head. You nod once and motion for the others to follow you as the footsteps continue to grow quieter. Poking your head out of the stairwell, you run your eyes over your new surroundings. Small tables and metal chairs haphazardly litter the large room. Most of the tables hold trash of some sort. Empty booze bottles and plastic cups are strewn across the stone floor. The place seems to be in complete disarray, which shouldn't be as surprising as it is.

     It didn’t take long for your small group to be noticed. iver heavily armed soldiers sneaking through rooms and halls that were mostly white and light gray were bound to be spotted eventually. On top of all the other disadvantages you’d found yourself to have, you hadn’t taken into consideration that breaking the keypad might send out a security alert. So, everyone residing within the small compound was aware of, and on the lookout for, intruders.

     While you’d never been a huge fan of killing people, you knew in some cases it was unavoidable. So when a few of the residents found you and your merry band of KorTac operators, your choices were to turn yourselves in and cause a ruckus, or subdue them by whatever means necessary. You all chose the latter, and proceeded to defend your freedom with swift, less than merciful deaths for anyone that tried to get in your way. 

     It seemed there were at least three hostiles for every corner you turned and two more for every room you looked through. Waves of people coming at your group over and over again as you make your way through what you had previously thought to be a small warehouse basement. That wasn’t the case at all though. In fact, there was an underground tunnel system tucked in the back of the original basement. Three whole underground floors, each of which contained housing units, offices, bathrooms and small kitchens. It was like moving through the equivalent of three military bases.

     You probably wouldn’t have made it this far if team one hadn't shown up thirty minutes ago. All of team two had sustained minor injuries, mostly bruises, small cuts and grazes from near misses of bullets. Ammo had been running low and you were down to two of your six combat knives by the time Price, Soap and Gaz made their surprise appearance. The confusion that overtook you nearly made you dizzy, until they explained what they found. What they found being absolutely nothing, which made this elaborate base make a hell of a lot more sense.

     “So, they’re alive? You’re positive?” Cautious concern and elation snake through Price’s tone as he speaks. His eyes are glued to you and the team you’d been leading.

     You nod slowly, honestly uncertain of how to answer without bringing the team’s morale down. “As of an hour and thirty-six minutes ago, yes.” You hadn’t seen Rain at all during your extensive expedition of, what you now suspect is, the organization’s new headquarters. Your eyes find Soap as he works deftly to rig a small charge on a security access door. The hope being it’ll give you all a quicker and quieter way to travel around the labyrinth of never ending rooms and hallways.

     Soap finishes placing the charge and ushers everyone around the corner of an intersecting hall. “Shouldn’t need this much clearance,” He shrugs as he peers back around the corner at the door. “But you can never be too safe.” He steps back behind cover and holds up the charge trigger. A small bang echoes through the hallway, causing slight ringing in everyone’s ears. “Maybe it was a bit too much?” 

     You snort out a laugh and follow Soap around the corner to the security door which is now blown wide open. “At least it’s open.” You shrug as you both walk into the room, monitors full of video feeds fill the back half. Your eyes widen slightly as you scan over each of the feeds, unconsciously looking for two very specific people. “Oh, God,” You gag as your eyes finally find the feed for the ‘interrogation’ rooms. 

     Tears fall from your lashes as you take in the horrendous sight of your men, bound and tied to chairs. The cameras face both of them directly, neither wearing their masks but both recognisable from the clothing they wore. Clothing you had seen them wearing just before they disappeared, only now it was cut open and stained the color of rust in some places. Cuts and bruises litter their bodies, fresh blood seeming to seep from their skin in places. Your stomach twists with the need to evacuate anything that may be contained within as your heart squeezes, trying to fold in on itself. 

     You knew it would be bad, you knew this is what was happening to them, but you could stand to look at it. Couldn’t stand knowing you were the reason for the days of torment your lovers had been through. And now, standing here, more or less fine, while they suffered endless amounts of pain, had broken you. Your usually strong exterior, your need to be fine even in the hardest of situations dissipates. The emotional turmoil you’d thought would be the end of you couldn’t compare to what they’d been through.

     Guilt and disgust fill you as you think back on how bad you’d felt for yourself. You felt pathetic, nearly breaking from their absence was so stupid in hindsight. You’d been so focused on holding yourself together while they’d been here, counting on you to come for them.

     They’d been paid a visit recently, that much was obvious and it made your blood boil with white hot rage. You want to shriek in anger, to wail in sadness and throw things. You don’t though, you keep it together as you knew you’d get your chance to be emotional once they were back in the confines of safety. Your eyes scan the screens once more, finding the room numbers before you turn and rush out of the security room. 

     The adrenaline coursing through your veins and the sound of your rapidly beating heart drowns out the calls of your team. You were on a mission and nothing would stand in your way. So they were either with you, or they weren’t. 

     The next twenty minutes blur in your head, flashes of the events that transpired are all that remain. Images of you sprinting through the halls, picking off the residents of the facility one by one. The cuts and bruises you’d sustained, the single bullet that had managed to hit you in the midst of the absolute rampage you’d gone on stick in the back of your head. You don’t feel them though, your whole body feels numb and you can’t think of anything but pulverizing the two people you know had a hand in Ghost and König’s torture. 

     You vaguely remember team two following hot on your heels as you massacred a fifth of the people on the third floor. They’d followed you without question, either having full confidence in your abilities or having that little control over themselves as well. It hadn’t really mattered to you either way, you were just glad to have some sort of backup when it came time to bust into the room that contains the holding cells. 

     Many well-equipped guards stood in your way, but you weren’t deterred in the slightest by their presence. Neither were the four men from KorTac. In that moment it became clear why they had followed you so willingly, all of them standing at your side waiting for you to give the order. Waiting for you to lead them into what would most likely be a bloodbath for your small, now ammo-less group. 

     “This will most likely end in at least one of our deaths,” You explain in a hushed voice as you glance between the four men. “You’ve come this far with me and not questioned any of my rash decisions, I wouldn’t blame any of you if this is not a risk you’re willing to take.” You swallow hard, nerves slowly wiggling their way past the wall of numbness and determination that had gotten you this far. “You’ve all done well and I commend you all for the bravery you’ve shown by blindly following my lead.” You salute them all as a show of respect, nodding in approval as they follow suit. “I’m going to turn around, you have thirty seconds to make your decisions. After that I’ll be moving forward with no knowledge of who has chosen to stay and who has chosen to go.” 

     You take a deep inhale and turn toward the door that would likely lead to your death. You wouldn’t make the choice for these men, you wouldn’t lead more people than necessary to their deaths for what felt like a selfish and reckless move. Your stomach churns with a mixture of respect and fear when you hear four sets of boots come to stand in a line beside you.

     “If we play this right,” Horangi pipes up quietly. “We can get weapons from a few of the guards before they realize we’re even here.”

~~~~~

     Blood. So much blood. Covered in it, head to toe and back again, absolutely soaked. Yours, Ghost’s, König’s, and everyone else you’d come in contact with in the past three hours. But most of it belonged to that prick who’d suggested just offing your men. It’s sticky and wreaks of iron, leaving a tingling sensation in the back of your nasal cavity. It serves as a stark reminder of the things you found out you were capable of about forty-five minutes ago and it’s the last sinsation you feel before everything around you fades to black.     Your whole body ached from a hard battle your team had barely won. None of you had escaped without injuries that ranged in severity from simple bruising to bullet wounds. Through all of it the only thing keeping you upright was the hope that that vile man hadn’t managed to follow through with his suggestion. 

     As the last guard falls by Soap’s hand, the whole group breathes a collective sigh of relief. The room grows deathly silent as we search the fallen guards for keys to the cell that Ghost and König were held in.

     You’re the first to enter the room, your feet dragging slightly as you step in and come face to face with the bruised and broken forms of Ghost and König. Your first instinct is to run up and embrace them but that thought is quickly stunted by the sound of heavy footsteps behind you. You think better of it anyway, better not to crush them in your embrace and further cause them pain. Instead you settle for a gentle caress to each of their cheeks as your team moves in around you, readying themselves to haul the two large men out of the underground compound.

     On the long walk back to the surface with the team carrying your most injured companions, your eyes catch sight movement out of the corner of your eye. Your head turns just in time to catch the back half of a man trying to sneak behind a corner. Unluckily for him, and luckily for you, your eyes are sharp from years of paranoia and working with 141 and you rush to subdue the man in hopes of getting your hands on Rain once and for all.

     Much to your surprise as you round the corner you find that the man is accompanied by the woman you’re after. Your heart pounds as the anger you’d recently resolved comes flooding back, mind reeling with all the ways you’d enjoy tormenting these two cretins as soon as you got your hands on them. The aching in your body is quickly forgotten as Rain begins to make a run for it. You move to follow, determined to take her down before she manages to disappear for the third time but this man, whomever he may be to her, steps in the way. 

     His form is larger than yours, appearing almost bodyguard-like as he blocks your path. His arms are outstretched so even if you attempt to move around him, he’d have a good chance of catching you. 

     Your anger turns to pure, unadulterated rage, watching over the man’s shoulder as Rain disappears around another corner in the maze of hallways. A frustrated yell falls from your lips as your eyes harden and move to the man’s less than pleasant face. “I’ll fucking kill you!” THe last word to leave your lips before you pounce on the man. Your hands find their way around his thick neck as he falls back from the sudden attack. You don’t give him a chance to react before using your grip to take the air from his lungs. Pounding his head into the concrete floor as the fire in your eyes intensifies.

     For ten solid minutes you remain on top of the man. Long after the light had drained from the man’s eyes and he’d stop clawing at your wrists. Still you continue to abuse the man’s body as an outlet for your rage. All of your usual management skills are gone and the anger deep in your bones, anger from years past, spurs you on. You only stop once the adrenaline that fueled you ran out completely. Your body grows weary as your arms fall heavily to your sides. It takes every ounce of energy and strength you have left to drag yourself out of the compound to the awaiting vehicle. You collapse inside next to Ghost and König’s unconscious forms before slipping into darkness yourself.

(Don’t forget to ask about joining the tag-list: @josieguts @strangepuppynightmare @theredviolets @poohkie90 @giulia2372 @fillechatoyante @buckysjuicyplums @running-writing @darkravenqueen98 @bigman101 @birdiiiiiiiiiii @kessi-21)

[misterxsamsa]

Part One

Will write more if you want!

Okay so this is what I’m thinking: JV has used Johnny as a way to vent/tell his truths and gaslit everyone into thinking it wasn’t about him.

There are many things similar between the two: the way they look/dress (90’s mall goth), the haircut, being a cinephile, his viewpoints on humanity, his personality, etc. What I’ve gathered from posts on the internet about people who’ve met him in the 90’s, he was considered to be toxic. Which considering he was still in his teenage years/early adulthood it’s understandable. He literally looks like Johnny!

On the Johnny Twitter account, there are SO many tweets that are just JV venting or talking about things he likes. Short haired girls, talking about women all being insane (which he’s done on livestreams), his views on people, even down to just random bullshit like eating snacks and avoiding sleeping. All of those tweets are just JV. Johnny is a puppet for him to speak and vent through. And you might be going, “well, he HAS to come up with things for Johnny to say”…so why make him completely similar to himself? Surely a creative mind could come up with more.

Think about it, many panels are totally just artwork based on real life with a modification here and there. For example, Johnny laughing at a sitcom/not killing himself because he has something to watch to distract him. If that isn’t JV I don’t know what is. And if you’ve ever been there when he had literal breakdowns on stream, you’d know 1.) he used media as a distraction, clearly and 2.) he’s suicidal. Even though everyone brushes it off as a joke.

There are so many interviews and things JV has said himself that would indicate he: has a sleep disorder/is afraid of sleep, he doesn’t understand people (which Johnny doesn’t either) arrogance and hypocrisy, among other things that also indicate paranoid ideation. Which…I can’t even blame him because some of his fans are…interesting. Seriously, he fathered that whole “zomg I’m so random xD” school of thought. Disorganized thinking but make it funny and marketable I guess.

There are even interviews and I think one of them is on YouTube where an interviewer called it a joke and he looked SO pissed. If JTHM TRULY wasn’t about him, or a joke…why would he selling get angry if an interviewer said it was?

Even observing him in his livestreams, you can totally pinpoint things that make you go “Johnny would totally say that”, and “this is a symptom of [insert mental illness here], and the breakdowns everyone has already witnessed. Now, people brush it off as “everything he does is a joke”, but do you REALLY think that’s the case?

The thing about JV is that he’s the ultimate hipster: he clearly doesn’t care about being understood and wants to be seen as completely original and “too good” for things everyone else likes. He has amazing tastes sure, but *many* people do whether they like the same things or not. Hence why he also has stated he can’t stand being copied before. (Forgot where I saw that on the internet, sorry.) This is why he also hates when anyone relates to his work…because it no longer becomes personal or special. Not even because people read JTHM wrong/think it’s edgy humor/is a phase to them. And think about it…why would you care if people only use your work to LARP if you’re getting paid and it’s just a joke to you anyway? Why would you WANT them to actually get it…if it isn’t something that’s clearly important to you?

Mostly, JTHM is FULL of intrusive thoughts. Most people have them, but to an artist that gives them ideas for their artwork.

This is just SOME stuff I have written but let me know if you want more.

Anon, I will be thinking about this forever.

For my own Jhonen-esque reasons I'm allergic to getting too personal on my blogs typically, but I'm making an exception here because of the work put into this...

I've been JTHM since my formative years, and it's always been a big inspiration towards my art, writing, and interests. You can tie a good 75% of my interests back to JTHM, or the things referenced within it somehow. I've also struggled with a fuckload of mental illness since forever. So, for the longest time, I've accidentally looked towards Jhonen Vasquez as this weird litmus test standard for normalcy? He made my struggles look artistic and interesting, instead of just lame and debilitating. All while being a SEEMINGLY normal-passing dude, despite clearly having some issues. It's been hard, you know, kinda grappling with the fact that I'll probably never be able to maintain that level of presentation and seeming stability. See, I'm not a livestream kinda guy, so my exposure to him is all panels and interviews. So! Imagine my reaction upon you telling me that this guy, at fifty something, is apparently a complete dork who has suicidal breakdowns on livestream! I'm finally free!

Everybody I look up to is just as lame as I am, and I never have to worry about this ever again! ANYWAYS, ONTO THE ACTUAL ASK! I'm pulling a Jhonen and officially declaring everything I just said as an elaborate exercise in brilliant irony!

Yeah, you're right about all of this and you should say it. I've always seen Johnny as being Jhonen's borderline self-insert slash power fantasy. It's done so obviously, that his continous attempts to deny it just make it seem more obvious. Though, I'll say that before reading this I thought Johnny was perhaps a more exagerrated depiction of his personality, but maybe not as much so as I originally thought? In regards to him being perceived as rude in the 90s, I've never been able to pinpoint if he was as callous as everybody said, or just unaccustomed to interacting with people who looked up to him so much. When MCR was on its last leg as a band, I know people used to really tear into Gerard Way on forums for not having his usual energy, when he was just depressed, lol. It's probably a mix of both.

I'd love to see more of what you've written. Please never be shy about sending large essays! I love them, and that's why I write them, and subject everyone on Tumblr to my longwinded opinions.

[heretherebedork]

I agree 100% with your analysis on Jihan and Ahjeong dating in public. You can acknowledge that they thought they wouldn’t get caught dating in public because they didn’t think anyone knew who they were while also acknowledging that they are extremely stupid for thinking that way. They’re perfectly aware that Dohan is being watched but somehow don’t think for a single second that they could also be watched? I understand they didn’t follow that logic but I can also say they are idiots for thinking that. I don’t think either of them are bad people but they are incredibly stupid and reckless and have been since the beginning when they got drunk and were a second away from spilling everything to the grandpa in the taxi. It’s not a crime to acknowledge that like some people seem to think it is. It’s not even saying Dohan has never been selfish while everyone else only thinks of themselves, but it just feels so uneven because Dohan has so much more to lose than anyone else. I look at reactions on multiple social media platforms so I’m not sure what is said where, but seeing people say that Dohan should out himself publicly to save Jihan and Ahjeong’s relationship just makes me feel like I’m going crazy. Seeing everyone act like Jihan has done nothing but give up everything he wants for the sake of Dohan makes me feel crazy. Seeing people act like Ahjeong was forced to marry Dohan against her will makes me feel crazy. I feel like I’m watching a different show than everyone else lol.

I cannot imagine people saying that Ah Jeong is being forced into this marriage. She agreed! She even had time to think it over, originally rejected it and then came back to it after Ji Han pissed her off. This is not something Do Han threatened her into or forced onto her. Ugh. I hope to never see that on my dash here.

But, yeah.

I was annoyed at both of them since the date at the movie festival early on. That was in a hugely public and well photographed place filled with the media and Ji Han just went and took his brother's fiance there and took her back to a hotel room together in front of a famous actress? And nothing ever came of that?! Still annoyed.

It's not that they're bad people, though I might argue they are. But it's more that they are truly being assholes to Do Han. What has Ji Han given up for Do Han?! He chose this path and then he tried to do everything in his power to destroy their marriage when he thought it was real!

Ji Han says he wants Do Han to be happy but what he really wants is for Do Han to be his idea of happy. Ji Han wants Do Han to lead the life Ji Han pictures for him, the life of marrying and working in this business and having a wife and power. That's all. And that's not truly wanting someone to be happy. that's wanting someone else to lead the life you don't lead.

Truthfully, Ji Han is so selfish but because he disguises it as caring about Do Han it doesn't feel selfish. But has he ever truly considered what Do Han wants? Or is just what Ji Han has decided Do Han wants every single time?

He accuses Do Han of being selfish with his choice but all Ji Han has ever done is encourage Do Han to give up his dreams and follow Ji Han's dreams instead.

Ah Jeong is, frankly, just a failure of writing. She is so close to being a good friend and the show could have made her one if it hadn't been so determined to write her in a Certain Way.

(Remember when she made a joke with Ji Han's coworkers about bringing his clothing back to him at work and how she implied they were lovers to, again, all of Ji Han's coworkers after she knew how powerful Do Han's family was and all his secrets? I remember.)

I'm very glad to be avoiding the mainstream discussion on this show. I'll just sit in my little corner and defend Do Han.

[one-vivid-judgment]

*screams internally* I don't know why I feel so ashamed of asking for such inappropriate things, buuuuut it's for SCIENTIFIC PURPOSES, I SWEAR! Spicy-steamy-juicy headcanons for Sawashiro, Takabe, Yamai, Tomizawa and Ebina - walking in on them masturbating while moaning their s/o name (⁄ ⁄•⁄ω⁄•⁄ ⁄) Many thanks!

Forgive me God for I have sinned 😔🙏 I totally did NOT have fun writing these, I totally do NOT thirst for these men and want them ruined. Nope, not at all!

Jo Sawashiro

Truth be told, he’s never been one to jerk off. Work has always been a priority and pretty much overshadowed everything else, even his own needs. Still, just because he doesn’t do it often, doesn’t mean he’s not a man whose instincts take over sometimes, even if he is a professional. Everyone needs to de-stress at some point.

So, yeah, when you walk in on his room, you didn’t think he’d be doing that. He never does, as far as you know. You didn’t hear anything before coming in either, that’s how quiet he is. Mostly because he tries to make it quick when he does masturbate. What you do hear, is him moaning your name when you open the door and see it.

The man straight up freezes in embarrassment. It was supposed to be quick, and now he is in this predicament. You don’t seem too fazed though. If anything, you look—interested. As in, you try to look him in the eye but your gaze always ends up going down to his cock. It’s you who drops the question, however:

“Would you... I mean, do you want any help with that?”

Mamoru Takabe

Like Sawashiro, his job always ends up overshadowing everything else. Unlike Jo though, he tries to make time for ‘de-stressing’ at least once a week instead of ignoring it for as long as he can—whether that ‘de-stressing’ is masturbating or having sex with you, it depends on if you are home or not. It’s to avoid getting distracted during work hours, he says, and besides, it’s not healthy to ignore one’s urges.

He always does it at night, right before sleeping, when work is already done and he has some time for himself. It just so happened that you had gone out with friends that night and he had to jerk off instead. And it just so happened that you came back when he had his pants down and a hand around his cock, and he coincidentally just so happened to be moaning your name when you did.

For a split second, he doubts whether he should stop altogether or lock himself in the bathroom to finish what he started. You do look a little tipsy, so he leans more towards the second option. But before he can excuse himself, you make the choice for him, crawling on top of him on the bed and kissing him. And, although he wants to tell you to sleep it off, cause he can taste the beer in your tongue, he is only a man. What is he supposed to do when you hold his cock and say the magic words?

“Let me help you with that big problem you have there, Mamo-chan.”

Yutaka Yamai

Not like the other two in the sense that, if he’s horny, he will do something about it. Work can wait. Before you, he would frequent hostess clubs and strip clubs, and that’s where he would usually go to get his fill. Ever since you came into the picture though, he stopped—so now, if you’re not feeling like fucking, he’s gotta take care of the problem himself.

Chances are, he won’t care if you do barge in while he jerks off. Were it anybody else, like one of his boys for example, he would get pissed and kick them out immediately. You though? Hell, you’ve seen his dick how many times already? How many times have you heard him moan your name? Why would he care? Only thing that changes now is it’s his hand and not you wrapped around his cock.

He doesn’t stop even when you do come into the room. He looks you in the eye, smiles and tells you, “Come here or get out and let me finish.” Then, he keeps going. And see, the scene kinda caught you off guard, but now that he’s given you a choice, it’s pretty clear what you are going to do.

“No need for that. Just let me suck you off.”

Eric Tomizawa

This man is a taxi driver: he deals with assholes everyday and there is only so much stress a guy can handle before he needs to blow off some steam. Some days, he doesn’t even wait till he gets home, he just parks somewhere empty and jacks off right then and there. Don’t blame him, he’s just impatient like that!

Today he narrowly avoided masturbating in the car. He was kinda hoping you were home to ‘help him out’, to be honest (and as a side note: when he has all that pent up stress, he gets rougher, calls you names—he needs to get off and he needs it now). Seeing as you are not though, that just means he’ll have to relieve himself. Maybe he grabs one of your shirts from the closet to speed up the process.

You can’t even be mad that he didn’t wait for you when you come back. He looks adorable like that, lying on his back on the bed and fucking his own fist with your shirt pressed to his nose. You can barely make out the words he’s saying, but in between all the filth he spills when he’s horny, you catch your name. And honestly? How a man can look both, hot and cute, while jerking off of all things is beyond you.

“Aww, Ricky, you couldn’t wait till I got home? You’re lucky you’re so cute, I can’t even get mad at you! Now... let’s take care of that problem of yours.”

Masataka Ebina

Ebina doesn’t give a fuck. If he’s horny, even if it’s at the office, he will do something about it. If his grunts are outside and roaming around, he doesn’t care. He’s the boss, so who makes the rules around there, Narasaki or him? Yeah, thought so.

If, one day, you go to Seiryu HQ to pay him a visit and see his door locked, chances are he’s masturbating. Of course, you didn’t know that the first time around, so it took you by surprise. It caught you even more off guard just how... nonchalant he was about the whole thing. He was just all like, “Oh, great timing. Lock the door and come here, will you?” And what were you gonna do, say no?

Now, when you see the locked door, you know what it means. That doesn’t mean you think it’s any less surreal that Ebina gets to do that in his office of all places (“Honestly, wouldn’t it be more comfortable to wait until you got home?” You asked him one day. Clearly you underestimate how powerful it makes him feel to fuck you over his desk at Seiryu HQ), even more so when you open the door and hear him say your name. Very deliberate, if someone asks you—but alas, no one did, and Ebina is giving you those fuck-me-eyes right away.

“Honestly, Masa-chan, you’re filthy, doing things like this in your office! What if your boys heard you, huh?”

[phoenix-fell]

RWBY emotions and the stages of grief

Okay, hear me out and I’m sorry this is a long one but I’m just a bit intrigued by the emotions of our girls and how they’re being shown. (And a little tired of RWDE folk ripping it to shreds for the comedic outputs). I do feel like the girls mildly symbolise 4/5 of the stages of grief - which I’ll weave in throughout.

We have an obvious loss of innocence/purity and hope from Ruby - which I think is going to be especially interesting in the next couple of episodes, because while Blake has taken the reigns a little here and there, we know that WBY get shrunk and it’s going to force Ruby back into carrying her team (literally).

I quite liked in the last episode just how detached Ruby is from everything; from not noticing the Bees flirting, to not really engaging with the fact Yang is looking for her arm at the auction, to after the auction when she’s just completely oblivious to everyone’s conversation and focused on the sword. I think CRWBY have done a great job of framing her as isolated and detached, or ‘Depression’ - seeing as she speed-ran the first 3 grief stages.

Weiss, though, I feel might be just as interesting. She was framed alongside Ruby when the Bees were having a pun-off. She’s been thrust forward as the comic relief as she struggles to understand the world around her. I know Ruby is heading for a breakdown, but I don’t think Weiss is far behind. 

Since the beginning, she’s been ‘Defiance’, a carefully put-together character who likes to be in control of the situation. But now, it’s not just that she’s somewhere unfamiliar; their entire plan fell apart, she watched her friend die in front of her, she has no home, no school, no idea whether she saved anyone and no idea how to get out of the world she’s been dropped into. When the cracks start to show, she’s often framed without her face, because she’s still keeping so much inside, trying to regain control whilst trying to process the fact she has nothing to go back to in Remnant. She’s had blatant evidence to suggest she’s in a fairy tale, but remains in ‘Denial’. Because, if she is, she can’t control that, right? She’s just walking through someone else’s story.

I feel like Yang has been extra ‘brawler’ the last couple of episodes which I feel is because her go-to is to exude strength in these types of situations, it’s her coping mechanism. The first time we see her she bursts into the scene throwing rocks at the Jabberwalker, her first interaction is an outburst because she failed to keep her sister safe and at the auction it’s clear she’s pissed at the Racoon, possibly because losing her arm is so inherently tied to her ability to fight and keep people safe. She seems to reflect ‘Anger’. 

While Blake might just be coming out of a cocoon of character development - if she’s pushing forward a Bumbleby arc then I have to believe that feral Blake at the end of last season was when something snapped, but she’s having an easier time remaining composed because ultimately, the worst DID happen - and then she found Yang again, she has a second chance, away, removed from the chaos and war of the world they’ve fallen from and now has a second to breathe and let herself feel. Blake finds comfort in being in a story she knows, because she’s learned the moral of it, and wants to avoid the pit-falls that Alyx did - essentially, ‘Bargain’ her way through to a happier outcome.

I feel like either Ruby’s, Jaune’s, or Neo’s arcs (or maybe even all three, or everyone’s) will inevitably lead to Acceptance. Whether that’s accepting the loss of their loved one, accepting the love of others, accepting your own feelings, that you can’t always be the hero/save everyone or accepting you won’t always be in control.

[fleetsonourgecentral]

Yoo thought of a headcanon scenario, where Scourge somehow dreams about his super form[s] one night. 

His interaction with if it was the good Super form the opportunity to at least make a compromise would be fumbled so hard due to their clashing mindsets. And they’re both stubborn as hell in changing their tune. Shit definitely goes out the window when Super looks at Scourge the same way Prime looked at him when he got tricked into powering down saying something along the lines of, “What fucking goals do you even have, Scourge? At least I want to help people be something bigger and better than just being mean.” You can imagine how well Scourge takes it hearing the all too familiar words. So tragically, nothing really gets solved between them, just strengthened feelings of resentment and the need to fight for control when they can. 

Evil Super would however, strike a deal. 

He finds Scourge and his friends very entertaining. Why ruin that? He’s also seen Super Sonic being contained/in his eyes, become a withered shell of his former self, so it might be partially for his own self-preservation as well. He is chaos but so are they. One frightful dream ass-beating later (wasn’t even pissed at Scourge, who despite tried throwing hands like the green bozo he is, he just did it because he can), he offers his hand the way Scourge did with Prime, promising not to kill them only if… honestly idfk something like this???

“The road goes both ways, y’know. You’re full of untapped potential. To keep things running around on this stupid little planet, how about you acknowledge me as my own person? Don’t you even think getting rid of me. Then everyone can continue to rock on this universe, doing as we please. What do you say?”

Just simple acknowledgement as their own person and leave him as he is i guess.

He takes the deal [?] but….Scourge, how are you going to explain to everyone else that you can’t get rid of this super form like Sonic has done? On top of that, better count your lucky stars that your super form never gets bored one day.

who knows maybe Scourge finds another way to stabilize things before that happens maybe- hey wait a second how about a deal for the fucking ankles—

Scourge and a good super form would throw hands. I mean Scourge is throwing hands either way but he would throw hands even faster, and then proceed to tell everyone about the dream bc that is Not Normal even for chaos energy. I think the idea of a super form gaining sentience without being split from Scourge first would freak Sonic out and he'd make it a priority to try and suppress that chaos energy or get it out of Scourge entirely. Here's to hoping they could get it out of Scourge without it coming to life like Super did, though, or it would probably view Scourge as a villain to be dealt with. And, by extension, would have to fight the rest of the freedom fighters, too

I could see an evil super form trying to make a deal, but I also don't know if Scourge would trust it?? His instinct is to distrust and assume people are lying to him or trying to manipulate him, so even if he did take a deal, I don't think he'd trust his super form to hold up his end of the deal. He probably wouldn't tell the freedom fighters or Sonic about it, and he'd brush off any attempts to get rid of his chaos energy so his super form doesn't have an excuse to try and backstab him, but I think he'd be prepared for betrayal anyway and put back-up plans of his own in place. Scourge doesn't always think things through, but he isn't stupid; he'd be well aware he'd be entirely reliant on his super form's mercy, and he'd hate that. So he'd come up with a plan, even if he didn't tell Sonic about it

Ahjdhjsdjh smh the super forms will never realise all they need to do to get in Scourge's good graces is fix his ankles

[frikatilhi]

Jere keeps asking/informing Bojan about his OF ideas, sending different pictures and videos to get opinion if this is still fine or already too much. Meanwhile Bojan is sweating, jumping at every message ping and checking them while hidden in a corner, to the point that it pisses off everyone else in the studio. He can't say not to send them to Jere but can't ignore them either because the phone is burning a hole in his pocket.

Anon, I think you just wrote your own fic, this is perfect.

I got several prompts about Bojan's reaction to the OF, so here's a little something about that.

Bojan can’t believe it has come to this.

It used to be that musicians would make a living selling records and performing live. Nowadays you need to sell tons of merch to even break even, have an online presence and be accessible to your fans and be relatable and funny and flirt with your bandmates to keep them guessing and keep generating fucking content, all the time.

But he wasn’t aware that the hustle included Onlyfans now too, apparently.

Bojan can appreciate Jere trying to make the most of his success and fame. He has clearly done some Scarlett O’Hara type “I shall never go hungry again!” pact with himself, determined to strike while the iron is hot, and make up for his meager earnings by any means possible.

It is none of his business how Jere chooses to make his money. If posting cheeky little skits with Häärijä is going to make people throw their money at him, who is he to judge.

So there really is no problem for Bojan. 

The only problem is that he is lying awake, 1 am Slovenian time on December 1st, knowing full well that the first post of the calendar has been live for two hours.

It’s probably nothing too risque, anyway, he reasons. He has watched those two idiots film their stupid skits enough times to know that they like to joke around, shitposting their way through life. It’s probably just them in santa hats doing… the stuff they always do. Maybe a little suggestive, but nothing actually pornographic. 

But also, knowing those two, knowing what they truly are capable of, he wouldn’t put anything past them.

So of course he is curious. Who wouldn’t be?

He can’t just ask Jere. He just can’t. He’s been trying for days to craft a message that would convey the exact joking, teasing nonchalance that would make Jere share the stuff with him without him asking directly. But everything he comes up with is too transparent. Asking Jere would mean admitting that he wants to know. And Jere can’t know how much he wants to know. 

He also can’t join Onlyfans. He just can’t. Because that would mean… Too many things. Things Bojan is really not ready to prod or poke at.

It would also be totally icky. Watching Jere in… situations without him knowing that Bojan is watching, even though he is clearly okay with anyone and everyone seeing it, feels somehow wrong. If he can’t man up and talk to Jere and tell him how much he wants to see him naked, what right does he have to sneak around and pay money for it?

But also, he really, really wants to see what’s there.

So you can see his dilemma.

He holds off for two days. But then the online reaction to the newest one reaches him, and he sees a mention of the socks. It is the opening he needs. He taps a text.

me Watafak is this I hear about Joker Out socks making an appearance on OF???

Jere Did you like it?

me I haven’t seen it jesus christ

Jere No just us, Käärijä and Häärijä 😝

Jere You not subscribe? 😥

me Wtf you mean, of course not ☠️

Jere Bojan poor 🙁 🙁 

Jere Wait

In a minute, Bojan’s phone dings as a sign of a new email. The pop-up notification shows the beginning of the subject line:. You have been gifted a subscription to–

me You didn’t.

Jere This one on me! 😊

Jere And Boju…

Jere Tell me what you think after you watch 🤭😘😉

*

(okay sorry for ending it there, I know you wanted his reaction to the actual videos, but I don’t think I have it in me to write about him looking at those apron strings hanging between his buttocks and him imagining picking them up with his teeth, I am already hanging by a thread here)