#glares at the head canon game from earlier

[chuuminn]

i burnt my batch of brownies 🥺

[chiaraswritings]

Batman Vs Bruce Wayne Headcanons: Date Night with fem!Reader

Disclaimer: I do not own DC or their settings. This is certainly not canon.

Warnings & Topics: Smut, comfort. 18+.

Important Note: 18+ suggestive headcanons begin after the stars (✶ ✶ ✶), and will have a star (✶) in their intro.

Author's Note: Don't come for me, it's been awhile! For everything. This is my first time posting headcanons so I'm sorry if I didn't do them right. Nonetheless, I hope you're all having an incredible summer, and I hope you enjoy.

☽ Batman

☽ Batman not wanting to take off the Batsuit until you have to physically take it off him. And then physically put the matching hoodie you got on him.

☽ Batman not being anywhere near finished with the case he's working on.

☽ Batman letting you sit on his lap while he "finishes up real quick".

☽ Batman grumbling because you saw him rubbing his eyes, and now you're worried about the blue light from the Batcomputer affecting him. "The computer is not the enemy, (y/n)."

☽ Batman looking over your shoulder to see who you're texting and rolling his eyes that you're actually playing a merging game.

☽ Batman letting you fall asleep on his lap, and when you wake up, he still has his arms in the exact same position around you as he did an hour ago. The only thing that's changed is the screen.

☽ Batman rolling his eyes fondly when you get bored by his research on the screen. "Technically, this is classified information. You're not even supposed to be reading this."

☽ Batman letting you order Chinese food to the manor from his phone. You abandon his lap only to run up and get it, coming back with the plastic bag. He only eats when you hold the chopsticks up for him (both of his hands are on the keyboard).

☽ Batman allowing you to steal kisses every so often, then complaining you taste like beef and broccoli.

☽ Batman giving you gentle squeezes to check in. He'll run his hand down to yours and squeeze, and you'll capture his hand with your fingers.

☽ Batman finishing his work and turning you in his lap to give you his full attention.

☽ Batman scoffing when you ask if you can watch a Disney movie on the Batcomputer, but it only takes a few moments of convincing before he grumbles and relents.

☽ Batman breathing in the smell of your shampoo as he half-watches the movie with you. You glare at him, subtly telling him to pay attention to the plot, and he finally does. "What, are you quizzing me on it later?"

✶ ✶ ✶ (18+ content ahead) ✶ ✶ ✶

☽ ✶ Batman totally not getting distracted when you take off your shirt and go right back to cuddling in your sports bra. Because he's Batman, of course he doesn't get distracted.

☽ ✶ Batman forgetting all about the movie and starting research on you instead. Our ADHD king. ✨

☽ ✶ Batman making out with you in the middle of the Batcave, his hands unashamedly memorizing your curves. Your waist, your thighs, up to cup your breasts in calloused hands, then back down to your thighs again.

☽ ✶ Batman pulling you into the Batmobile of all places for privacy. "What? It's the closest place with a lock." So now you are destined to have sex in his car. Though the darkened windows do give a certain... aura to the tight space.

☽ ✶ Batman pulling you on top of him in the driver's seat, secretly grateful you made him take off the Batsuit earlier. You're soon locked in a kiss again, his lips eager and his hands running over your thighs.

☽ ✶ Batman gruffly apologizing when you bump your head on the roof of the car as he peels off your leggings unceremoniously. "Careful. It's cramped in here." He keeps his hand near your hand after that.

☽ ✶ Batman's hands supporting your hips as you grind against him, you can feel his growing erection through those goddamn sweatpants you made him wear. The only noise he makes is low grunts and deep exhales through his nose, clear signs to your trained ear that he's enjoying this.

☽ ✶ Batman keeping his hands on your thighs the entire time you ride him. His fingers roughly dig into your skin, keeping your legs parted, helping you move up and down. His lips find yours, muffling your shrill moans.

☼ Bruce Wayne

☼ Bruce Wayne not really having a preference between going out and staying in.

☼ Bruce Wayne loving the way you dress up when you try a new restaurant together. You have the best smear-proof lipstick, so he can kiss you as often as he wants.

☼ Bruce Wayne keeping you close when he sees a camera lens pointing at them. If the picture's going to hit the news, he wants everyone to know you're his girl.

☼ Bruce Wayne not really paying attention to anything but you. He mumbles absently to the waiter, his eyes trained on yours. It could be the completely wrong dish that comes out, one he despises, and he wouldn't really care. He's too happy being with you.

☼ Bruce Wayne not minding your requests to stay in instead of go out. He'll take off his jacket and shoes without a second thought, handing you one of his hoodies to stay warm in. "Here. You're going to steal it later anyways."

☼ Bruce Wayne putting on your favorite Netflix show as you curl up into his sheets. Word on the street is he wanted to buy the whole show just for you, and when the company turned him down, you had to stop him from punching the representative.

☼ Bruce Wayne binging a pack of Oreos with you, and then kissing you even with cookie in your teeth.

☼ Bruce Wayne keeping you close when you fall asleep, but even then he doesn't turn off the show. By this time he's way too invested in the plot he once rolled his eyes at.

☼ Bruce Wayne waking up in the middle of the night to see you re-watching the episodes you slept through, and gladly watching them again. He's so bad at not spoiling the ending. You'd think he could keep a secret, with all the secrets he already keeps.

☼ Bruce Wayne falling asleep right at the climax (he's already seen), and you low-key getting pissed off at him because you're so invested and on edge.

☼ Bruce Wayne drifting in and out of sleep until you finally fall asleep with him, the show playing in the background. You'll have to finish it another day.

☼ Bruce Wayne waking up before you do and brushing his teeth so he won't have morning breath when he kisses you.

☼ Bruce Wayne insisting you can't just eat Oreos for breakfast, though you argue it has the same nutrients as a muffin would.

✶ ✶ ✶ (18+ content ahead) ✶ ✶ ✶

☼ ✶ Bruce Wayne insisting he only joined you in the bathroom so he can shave, and nicking himself more than once because he was sneaking peeks at you in the shower.

☼ ✶ Bruce Wayne finally giving up on shaving and watching you in the shower without shame. His eyes follow the lather that runs over the curve of your hips and down your legs.

☼ ✶ Bruce Wayne staring for so long, you finally open the shower door as an invitation. He strips in record time and steps in, quickly turning the water to a hotter temperature.

☼ ✶ Bruce Wayne being fully aroused from the moment he steps in the shower, but taking the time for foreplay. His hands move from your waist, to your stomach, then between your legs, his fingers doing nimble, skilled work there.

☼ ✶ Bruce Wayne wrapping one of your legs around his waist, his lips doing their duty on your neck, his fingers working between your legs where you need them the most. He usually takes the lead in foreplay, reducing you to a mess in his arms.

☼ ✶ Bruce Wayne keeping his hand between your legs as he thrusts into you, fingertips pressing against your bundle of nerves. He knows exactly how to please you, and how to not overstimulate you.

☼ ✶ Bruce Wayne murmuring sweet (sexy) nothings into your ear as he fucks you. All you can do is open your mouth in a silent moan, your breath coming out in a long sigh.

☼ ✶ Bruce Wayne resting his forehead against yours, the water running over your lips, making them look so inviting. He's not so lost in pleasure that he can't notice this, and he pauses his thrusts to kiss you like you're an addiction. Your hips buck, the lack of movement annoying you slightly. He grins and resumes, his fingers moving in between your bodies, fucking you in all the right ways.

[atomicbland]

Just A Mirage

Hello I'm outting myself as the ──★ ˙🍓anon from @ghoulphile. Anyways they've inspired me to fall face first dip my toe back into writing and might as well share the brain rot with the class. This is my first time writing smut or anything relatively like this so any questions comments critques are welcome! I dont bite unless you want me to

pairings: cooper howard x fem!reader rating: 18+ MDNI! warnings: bondage, degradation, pet names, mentions of age gap (obviously), Cooper Howard being a jackass in general, canon typical chem use, smoking AO3 Link

You were tired, thirsty, and hungry. Your rations had been finished earlier that morning though it was not by your hand. The tall ghoul who looked like he had walked right off the set of one of those western movies with his cowboy hat, ragged leather duster, and shotgun strapped to his back had stolen the last of your food and water while you stepped away to relieve yourself. You had come back to him chewing on your stash of jerky while letting his scruffy companion, “Dogmeat”, drink straight from your water flask. You learned quickly that no matter what, he’d treat the dog better than you. He kept you on a leash, his lasso was tied around your waist and tethered to the weapon belt that might as well have been fused into his skin. Anytime you weren’t keeping pace he’d give a rough tug of the rope, causing it to bite into your belly. Argued it’s easier to keep track of you that way. 

While you lamented over the loss of your food and water and debated if hiring the old ghoul was a smart choice something catches your attention stopping you in your tracks. Along the edge of the tree line, you spot the remains of what looked like a house, bigger than any house you’ve come across. The roof and windows were still somewhat intact and something that looked like brick peeked through the vines that had taken over the structure. You felt the bite of the rope at your stomach. 

“Now, I done told you what’ll happen if I gotta tug this damn rope again…” the Ghoul threatened from in front of you.

“I saw someth-”

“You ain’t seen nothin’,” he spat. “A mirage. Just that pretty lil’ head of yours playin’ tricks sweetie.” He tugged the rope again, urging you to move along not even bothering to look in the same direction as you. 

Sweetie. Whenever he called you that you could feel the heat of a thousand rads shoot through your body, making your blood boil. 

“Maybe my mind wouldn’t be playing tricks if I still had my food and water!” You didn’t budge, refusing to play his stupid game. You were in charge, hiring him to escort you to the Old World Wall safely. 

He turned to face you, his eyes hidden by the brim of his hat but his features were twisted into a scowl. “What was that lil lady?” 

He didn’t scare you. You cleared your throat. “I said. I NEED water. You don’t get any caps or vials if I’M dead!” He stays silent, still glaring. A month's supply of vials upon arrival was on the line and he knew it. You point towards the treeline. “I saw a house over there. We're out of rations and it's getting dark. Can we at least set up camp there?” 

His answer is wordless, whistling a command to Dogmeat to run ahead to the house. He gives another tug at the rope, commanding you to follow behind him, a cautious hand at his holster. 

The inside of the house was far nicer than the outside led you to believe. While everything appeared to be overrun by nature the original bones were still there. Holey yet plush couches formed a sitting area around a fire pit that recessed into the tattered wall. The floorboards creaked and moaned under the new weight as the three of you walked around making sure the area was clear. Dusty paintings littered the walls, images nearly impossible to make out in the dim light. 

“Now smoothie,” the Ghoul started, taking a quick break to puff his inhaler, “I’mma take you off yer leash and scope the perimeter ‘fore we hunker down.” 

You nod, happy to have some relief from the scratchy fibers of the rope and to get some sort of break from your freakish travel partner. Not that you didn’t hate him but the way he spoke and stole from you did wear on your nerves. All of the stupid pet names that cowboy gave you did something to you. You couldn’t place it, a warm feeling in the pit of your stomach, a milder feeling of what he did when he’d make a pass at you. And despite how much he annoyed you, you found him strangely attractive. On those sleepless night when you were sure he was sleeping, you’d study his features, imagining his strong hands around you as he pulled your hips down onto his, his cock hitting your core just right making your back arch and pulling the same loud cries of pleasure you had heard him pull from others in the adjacent room of whatever hostel would allow a ghoul and his dog. 

The smell of viscera and tobacco cloud your senses, and you feel a gloved hand around the back of your neck, ripping you back to reality. “And be good for me while I’m gone.” The heat of his breath travels down your neck and straight between your thighs. 

You watch as he slinks away, stopping at the crumbling doorway—a dark shadow masking the top half of his face. “Oh and sweetheart,” he pulls a cigarette from one of the pockets of his duster, lighting it before he continued, “be a doll an’ rangle somethin’ up for dinner. Ain’t much in the mood for ass jerky t’night.” He flashes you a smile from underneath his hat before leaving, Dogmeat happily cantering after him. 

The house is larger than it looks on the inside and despite its current state of ruin, you could see it in all of its glory, like one of those fancy houses you see in the movies. People smiling and laughing around a table piled with food, dressed in the most beautiful clothes that shimmered against the light. Women with beautifully painted faces and clean, perfectly styled hair. Those movies always made you wonder about the world before the bombs, before everyone wanted to kill everyone else, before the fear of radiation. 

You find your way into the kitchen, cracked black and white tiles decorate the floor, dingy teal cabinets matching the Atomic Queen appliances hug the walls. You take care to peek behind every cabinet door checking for any food or water that might have been missed by whoever came through here last. You manage to find some unlabeled booze and canned food tucked behind the remains of some long abandoned animal nest, while it isn’t much at least you’ll be able to eat tonight. In another cabinet you find some Sugar Bombs, the box is dented and beat up but surprisingly unopened, lucky you. 

You move towards the back of the kitchen, finding yourself in a small dark room. The smell of mildew and rot is so strong your stomach would've turned if it wasn't already empty, it's so bad you couldn't bother to examine the shelves that lined the wall. You make a mental note to ask the Ghoul to check for loot, of the two of you, he had the stronger stomach to rifle through damn near anything. Pushing through the door to the other side, fresh air greets you, a welcomed relief to your lungs. The very last dregs of sunlight shine through the windows that made up the roof, tall green trees kiss the glass in a desperate attempt to break free. If it wasn't for the roof you would've sworn you accidentally found your way outside. 

With one hand on the holster of your knife you creep with the brick of the wall at your back, slowly examining the plants in front of you. You recognized a few, Daffodils, Marigolds, even Tato vines. However a majority were new to you;  large flowers the size of your head, and plants that seemed to grow from the roof. You spot some pear and apple trees with the largest fruits you’ve ever seen further into the room. As you found your way to the perpendicular wall, you noticed that it was made of a giant window. You remember seeing building plans for something similar in a pre-war book years ago, a glass house that kept the plants inside at the ideal temperature. For whatever reason the plants in this glass house were thriving on neglect, carrying on with life as if the bombs never dropped. 

BANG! 

The sound makes you drop to the ground, covering your head. Whatever it was you just hope it was coming from the Ghoul. 

Just as you're about to get up, something catches your eye. You crawl towards the brush to get a closer look, little red fruits perched on vines decorated with white flowers cover the dirt by your feet. You pluck one, rolling it between your fingers the skin is rough, yellow dots littering the surface of the red flesh. The sweet scent of the fruit travels to your nose and entices your palate you know better than to put anything in your mouth. Instead, you procure the small tin that you use to store food from your bag and fill it with the mystery fruit. 

BANG! 

Hastily you shove the container back in your bag, whatever was going on outside had you a fair bit more concerned now that you could hear Dogmeat barking wildly. You quickly get up and make your way out of the glass house, through the dark storage room, and past the kitchen. Not stopping until you've collided with a large solid mass, sending a plume of dust into the air as your ass hits the cushion of the couch. 

“You’re ‘sposed to say ‘scuse you after runnin’ into a fella sweetheart.” 

You look up, your eyes meet the dark shadow of the Ghoul's from under his hat. Yellowed teeth show through as he grins wide. You look down to see in his gloved hand are two Rad Rabbits, in the other an unopened can of purified water. Relief washes over you, knowing that your dinner would be more than just Cram and Sugar Bombs. 

“I believe a thank you's in order.” His stupid handsome grin growing even wider. Clearly proud of himself despite him having taken down much harder prey. 

You glare at him before softening, in some way, you feel like this is his way of apologizing for earlier. Any time he pissed you off he would at least make up for it with his actions. Stolen stimpak? Within the next day, you'd find it replaced along with a bag of RadAway. A few bottle caps would find their way into your bag too, when you brought it up to him he'd deny it, telling you to keep a better eye on your shit.

“Thank you,” you pause, it just dawned on you that you didn't know his name. He was the Ghoul, the Cowboy, your escort across the wasteland. But no name to attach to him. You fish for a polite title for him, and if you knew him better you would've punctuated your gratitude with a kiss, yet the older man didn't seem like one for physical contact. “Thank you, Sir.” Is what you land on. 

His smile fades as if your gratitude offends him and he tosses rabbit carcasses into your lap.

“Make sure Dogmeat gets her fair share. She found ‘em after all.” He says, patting the mutt beside him before making his way to the firepit, and lighting another cigarette. 

[sherewrytes]

𝔹𝕣𝕠𝕜𝕖𝕟 ℙ𝕚𝕖𝕔𝕖𝕤, ℝ𝕪𝕠𝕞𝕖𝕟 𝕊𝕦𝕜𝕦𝕟𝕒 3

↳ Sukuna x f! black reader

Summary: After the death of his grandfather, Sukuna Ryomen is left to shoulder the weight of his family, caring for his younger brothers, Yuuji and Choso. As he withdraws into grief, his relationship with Y/N, his girlfriend of a year, begins to crumble. When Y/N discovers the truth about his grandfather’s passing during a heated argument, it leads to a painful breakup. Now, both are navigating life apart, but Sukuna’s heart aches for Y/N. Determined to win her back, he must confront his pain and find a way to break through the walls he’s built. Can he rekindle their love, or is it too late?

contents: heavy angst, modern au, 18+, smut, dark romance, drug use, talks of depression and similar topics. (a lil )

fic warnings. ooc, profanity, mental health issues, toxic relationships, cheating, explicit smut, serious drug use, mentions of depression + more to be updated as story progresses.

Please read with proper discretion. this is a work of fiction. all characters are written to portray roles that are necessary to the plot and are in no way a reflection of their canon counterparts.

Taglist: @for-hearthand-home @clp-84 @thelightknight21 @favvkiki 

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Fic Playlist

Song for this chapter: Happy Little Pill Troye Sivan

You can listen to the songs mentioned to the fic in order if you desire

Chapter Playlist

Masterlist

Previous

Chapter 3: Happy Little Pill

I finally made it home, my head still spinning from the earlier with yn…

Or is it the pills…or the weed…fuck weed brain is shit sometimes

 I yank the boxes out of the back seat before heading up to my apartment. When I step inside, the smell of pizza and the low hum of video game music hits me—Yuuji’s still awake, sitting with Choso and Toji, all of them glued to the screen, battling it out on Sparkling Zero, the latest Dragon Ball Z game. Toji just mutters, "Hey, you’re back," barely glancing away from the game.

I drop the boxes by the door with a loud thud, and that’s when everyone turns around, their eyes flicking from the boxes to me, waiting, maybe expecting something. The room falls into an uncomfortable silence, thick enough to choke on. Yuuji tosses the controller to Toji, then mumbles something about heading to bed.

But I’m already on edge, the tension buzzing under my skin like electricity. "It’s fine," I snap, waving a hand dismissively. "You don’t fucking listen anyway, so do whatever you want."

Choso stands up, his expression turning cold. “Don’t take your shit out on him,” he says, his voice steady but sharp enough to cut through the room.

I run a hand through my hair, feeling the heat of frustration bubbling up inside me. "I’m not taking anything out on him," I snap, my voice sharper than I intended. "Just tired of dealing with everyone's bullshit."

Toji rolls his eyes, casually leaning back on the couch, his gaze unfazed. "You’re the one who decided to get into it with Y/N, man. You think it’s easy for any of us to watch you self-destruct?"

I glare at him, anger flaring. "You don’t know shit, Toji. You think you understand what I’m going through?"

Choso shakes his head, shooting me a warning look. "Stop. Just stop. You’re being an asshole for no reason. You don’t have to take your problems out on us."

I scoff, the tension in the room thickening. "Whatever. Just mind your own business." I storm toward the kitchen, grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge, desperately trying to cool down the fire inside me.

Toji follows, the sound of his footsteps echoing behind me. "Look, man, you’re not going to be able to keep pushing everyone away forever. Sooner or later, you’ll have to deal with this."

I slam the fridge door shut, turning to face him. "What do you want me to say? That she left me? That I can’t fix this?" The bitterness spills from my mouth, and I hate how raw my emotions feel.

Toji crosses his arms, his expression serious. "I just want you to stop acting like you’re fine when you’re clearly not. You think shutting everyone out is going to help? You need to talk to someone."

"And what? You think spilling my guts to you guys is going to solve anything?" I retort, clenching my fists. "You think I want pity?"

"It's not about pity, Sukuna!" Toji's voice raises slightly, frustration evident in his tone. "It’s about support. You need it, whether you want to admit it or not."

I open my mouth to fire back, but the weight of exhaustion settles over me like a heavy blanket. "I don’t want to talk," I finally say, my voice quieter. "I just want to be left alone."

"You’re not alone, man," Choso pipes in, his voice steady. "We’re here for you, whether you like it or not."

I feel the tightness in my chest ease ever so slightly at their words, but

 I can’t let them in. Not now. Not after everything.

I shake my head, turning away from them, focusing on the dull ache of my thoughts instead.

"Fine," I mutter, dragging my boxes back toward my room. "Just keep playing your game or whatever."

I hear Choso mutter something under his breath, but I don’t bother to listen. I slam my bedroom door shut behind me, the sound echoing in the small space.

As I drop the boxes on the floor, I feel the familiar sting of tears welling up in my eyes.

 I don’t want to feel this way; I don’t want to feel anything at all. 

I sink onto my bed, staring at the ceiling, trying to clear my mind.

You should’ve fought harder, 

I think bitterly.

You should’ve fought for her.

But I didn’t. I let my anger and my fear push her away, and now I’m left with nothing but regret and the suffocating silence of my empty apartment.

I sit alone in my room, and for once, I let the tears fall. I don’t even try to stop them.

(I really fucking lost her…) 

The thought hits like a punch to the gut. 

(Fuck…)

Anger flares up, raw and bitter, and I lash out,coming off the bed, I kick one of the boxes on the floor. I hear something shatter inside. My jaw clenches, but my hands shake as I grab the box cutter from my dresser and slice open the top.

Inside are picture frames, one after another, all of them hers—the memories she kept. The photos glare back at me like a silent accusation. Shots of us laughing together, looking like nothing else mattered. Pictures of me, her, and Grandpa, his arm slung around us both like he was holding everything together. Photos of us with Yuuji and Choso, a messy, mismatched family that once felt unbreakable.

My chest feels like it’s caving in, a hollow ache where there used to be something real. Each picture is a reminder, a slap to the face of everything I’ve fucked up, everything I’ve lost. And somehow, seeing them all here, in these broken frames… it just makes it hurt worse.

I can’t look at these. I shouldn’t have opened this box. The photos are mocking me, each one a reminder of what I had and lost. I feel the heat of tears streaming down my face as I sift through the frames, memories flooding back in vivid detail.

Look at how happy we were,

I think bitterly.

What a fucking joke.

I picked up a picture of us at the beach, laughing and splashing water at each other. Y/N’s smile is bright, her hair blowing in the wind, and I remember how carefree we felt that day. The sun had been shining, the waves crashing, and we’d promised to always have days like that.

And now look at us, 

I think, rage mixing with sorrow in my chest. I toss the frame back into the box, and it clatters against the others. I can’t handle it.

I grab another one, this one of me, Y/N, and Grandpa at a family barbecue. Grandpa had his arm slung over my shoulder, and Y/N stood beside me, her hand on my back. We’d both been laughing at one of Grandpa's terrible jokes. That was before everything went to shit.

God, I miss him.

I slam the box shut, my heart racing with anger and pain. I run my hand over my face, trying to wipe away the tears, but it only makes it worse. I can’t breathe, the weight of my emotions crashing down on me. I want to scream, to throw something, to destroy everything in this room.

What have I done?

I pull my phone out, staring at the screen. I know I shouldn’t reach out to her, but the urge is overwhelming. I need her. I need to fix this, but I don’t even know how. I type out a message and then delete it.

No, don’t do that.

But the next moment, I find myself typing again, my fingers trembling.

Y/N, I’m sorry. Can we talk?

I hit send before I can think twice. The seconds stretch into eternity as I wait for a reply, my heart pounding in my chest. I want to pace, to throw my phone against the wall, to do anything but sit here and wait.

I’m still staring at the screen when i just see

Seen.

Just like that, my heart sinks again. She saw it and chose not to respond.

What the hell am I doing?

I toss the phone onto my bed, unable to look at it anymore. I want to forget. I want to drown myself in anything other than this ache. I lean back against the wall, trying to shut out the world.

But the memories don’t stop. They flooded in—her laughter, the way she looked at me, how her presence made everything feel right, even when it was wrong. I bury my face in my hands, letting the sobs wrack my body.

I really fucked this up..

I reach out without thinking, fingers brushing over the blunt I left on my nightstand earlier. It’s routine by now—something to take the edge off, to quiet everything that won’t shut up inside my head. I flick the lighter, watching the flame for a second before lighting up and taking a slow drag, feeling the burn in my lungs, hoping it'll numb something deeper.

(Alexa, play "Can You Feel My Heart" by Bring Me The Horizon.)

The music fills the silence, heavy and raw, matching the ache that I can’t shake. I let the lyrics drown me, let the weed fog my mind. It’s not enough, but it’s all I have right now—anything to dull the pain clawing its way through me.

The familiar sounds of Bring Me The Horizon fill the room, the heavy beats pulsing through my chest like a heartbeat. I take a deep drag from the blunt, the smoke swirling in the dim light as I close my eyes.

“Can you feel my heart?” The lyrics resonate with my inner turmoil, echoing the chaos that has taken over my mind. I let the smoke seep deep into my lungs, holding it for a moment before exhaling slowly, watching as the gray haze drifts away.

Inhale.

 Exhale.

I lose myself in the music, letting it drown out the noise of my thoughts, the weight of my failures. I let the smoke fill my lungs and the melody fill my heart. Each note hits me like a wave, and for a brief moment, the pain feels a little lighter, the memories slightly dulled.

What the hell have I done?

 I can’t shake the feeling of regret. I never wanted to push Y/N away, but it feels like I’ve done exactly that. I take another drag, the high creeping in, the world blurring around the edges.

It shouldn’t have come to this. I think of her face, the way her eyes glistened with tears, how it tore me apart inside to see her hurt.

“Can you save my bastard soul? Will you wait for me? I'm sorry, brothers, so sorry, lover”

 I can’t help but think how fitting the lyrics are. The smoke wraps around me like a shroud, and I lean back against the wall in my room again, letting the music take over, hoping it will drown out the memories of Y/N’s hurt expression, the way she told me to leave.

As the chorus builds, I feel the weight of everything crashing down again, but I can't fight it anymore. I take another hit of the blunt, needing more, wanting to escape this reality even for a little while longer.

I don’t want to be broken anymore. I just want her back.

I let the sound wash over me, the pain turning into a low hum, my thoughts drifting into a haze. I lose track of time as the world around me fades, and all that’s left is the music and the smoke.

Just for tonight, I don’t want to think about anything else.

The lyrics echo in my mind, each line digging deeper into the pit in my stomach. I take another drag from the joint, the smoke swirling around me like my thoughts—chaotic and tangled.

“I hate being alone.” The words hit hard. I can feel the weight of the silence in my room, a stark contrast to the warmth of Y/N’s laughter, the softness of her touch. 

Why did I mess up such a good thing? 

I can’t stop replaying every moment, every fight, and every chance I had to fix things before they spiraled out of control.

“I long for that feeling to not feel at all.”

 I sigh, frustration bubbling up as I wipe my eyes. I should’ve known better than to think sleeping with her would make everything okay.

 It was reckless, and now I’m left with the consequences. I smack my forehead, as if punishing myself will somehow erase the pain.

“The higher I get, the lower I'll sink.”

 I can feel the truth in that line. Every hit I take feels like a momentary escape, but I know it won’t last. 

It’s a band-aid on a gaping wound, and soon enough, the high will wear off, leaving me with the raw, gnawing emptiness inside.

“I can't drown my demons, they know how to swim.” 

My heart aches with that realization. The weight of my past mistakes, the loss of my grandfather, and now the chasm Y/N has left behind—those demons are relentless. They’re always there, lurking just beneath the surface, waiting for me to slip.

“What comes after the numb feeling inside?”

 I wonder, my mind racing. Will I ever feel whole again? Or will this ache follow me, a constant reminder of what I’ve lost? What if I’m destined to feel this way for the rest of my life?

I take another deep drag, letting the smoke fill my lungs, hoping it will cloud my thoughts, if only for a moment longer. But deep down, I know the truth: this isn’t a solution. I can’t hide from my feelings, and I can’t run from the mess I’ve made.

“God, Y/N... what have I done?”

 The whisper escapes my lips, thick with regret. I set the joint down and lean back against the wall, letting the tears fall as I stare up at the ceiling, wishing for anything to take this pain away.

The tears keep coming, harder and faster. My throat tightens, and I start to cough, choking on the mix of tears and smoke.

Fuck this shit.

I force myself up out of my room and head back to the living room. Toji, Choso, and Yuuji are still there, glued to the game, the sounds of explosions and cheers filling the room. And then I see Gojo and Geto have shown up too, looking comfortable like they belong here.

Gojo glances over, his eyes narrowing with that same look he always gives me, and holds out a beer. I stare at it, then at him. The whole scene feels off, like I’m watching from somewhere else, too hollowed out to take any of it in.

Without a word, I turn around and head back to my room, shutting the door behind me.

 I can’t do this right now…

I could feel their eyes on me as I turned away, the laughter and chatter of the group fading into the background. It was like I was stuck in a bubble, cut off from the warmth and camaraderie that usually brought me solace. All I wanted was to escape the reality of my situation, to crawl into a hole and disappear for a while.

I pushed the door to my room shut, blocking out the noise. The moment the door clicked into place, the familiar weight of loneliness settled back in, heavier than before. I sank onto my bed, feeling the fabric dampen with the remnants of my tears. My mind was racing, a storm of guilt and despair swirling around, leaving no room for clarity.

“Fuck this shit,” 

I thought, frustration clawing at my insides. I couldn’t keep running from everything. I needed to face it, to confront the mess I had made with Y/N, with my own damn life.

But how? 

I felt trapped, like I was spiraling into a pit with no way out. I couldn’t even find the words to say what I felt, to explain how I’d let everything fall apart. I reached for my phone, hoping maybe texting Y/N again would help, but hesitated. What would I even say? I didn’t want to make things worse, to push her further away.

After a few moments of staring at the screen, I tossed the phone back onto the bed and buried my face in my hands. It was too much. I needed to think, to breathe, but the reality of my choices suffocated me.

I heard laughter from the living room, a sharp reminder of what I was missing out on. I thought about joining them again, about trying to act normal, but the idea felt like a façade. I was too far gone, too consumed by my own turmoil to pretend.

Instead, I lay back on the bed, staring at the ceiling, the silence around me becoming deafening. I replayed the last few hours in my mind, trying to pinpoint where it all went wrong. The arguments, the unspoken words, the way Y/N looked at me with hurt and confusion.

I couldn’t escape the haunting thought that I might never fix this. That I might lose her for good.

“What am I supposed to do now?”

 I whispered to the emptiness.

The music shifts to Breaking the Habit by Linkin Park, and I can’t help but let out a bitter laugh. 

(Really?) 

It’s like the universe is mocking me at this point.

I reached for my usual baggie on my night side grabbing a Xanax and popping one then grabbed the weed jar and some paper, rolling it up with shaky hands before lighting it. I inhale, hoping the smoke can fill the cracks that feel like they’re widening with every second. I get off the bed, shuffling over to another box I’d grabbed from Y/N’s place, sitting there like it’s holding all the shit I’m not ready to face.

The smoke curled around me as I took a deep drag from the blunt, trying to drown out the chaos in my head with every inhale, I opened another box, the familiar scent of her lingering, and there it was—the collection of gifts I’d once given her. Little tokens of affection that now felt like chains binding me to my regrets.

“For fuck's sake, Y/N,”

 I muttered to the empty room, frustration spilling over.

The lyrics from the song hit me hard, each line resonating with the turmoil I felt inside. I could see it all clearly now—the moments where I’d let my anger and pride get in the way, where I hadn’t fought for her when it mattered most. “I’ll never fight again. And this is how it ends.” Those words echoed in my mind, a haunting reminder of how I’d allowed things to deteriorate.

I pulled out a small barely gift-wrapped box, the paper slightly crumpled and torn but still intact. I remembered the day I’d given it to her—her face lighting up with that genuine smile that had always made my heart skip. 

This was supposed to mean something.

 I thought bitterly, a part of me wishing I could go back and change everything.

The song shifted again, the chorus cutting through my haze: 

“I don’t know how I got this way. I’ll never be alright.” 

And it wasn’t. Nothing felt right anymore. I was stuck in this cycle of self-loathing and despair, unable to find a way out.

I flicked the ash off the blunt, my mind racing. The gifts, the memories—they were reminders of what I’d lost. Of the love I’d let slip through my fingers.

“What have I done?” 

I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. The question hung in the air, unanswered, as I took another hit. I couldn’t stop thinking about Y/N, about the way she’d looked at me, the tears in her eyes when she shoved me away.

It felt like I was breaking apart, piece by piece, the walls closing in around me. I needed to fix this. I needed to fight for her, to tell her everything I felt, but I didn’t even know where to start. The thought of reaching out filled me with dread, but the idea of letting her go was even worse.

The low hum of Breaking the Habit by Linkin Park fades out, leaving an unsettling silence in the room. My mind is buzzing, the weight of the decision pressing down on me like a thousand bricks. I’ve had enough of this shit, this constant escape, this haze. I sit on the floor, my back against the bed, eyes glued to the messy room around me.

The space feels suffocating, but I can’t bring myself to leave it. The air is thick with the scent of smoke, remnants of the last few hours. My hands shake slightly, and I’m light-headed, the high of the weed still lingering, but I know I’ve pushed it too far. I get up slowly, like the effort of moving is too much, but I do it anyway. The room sways a little as I make my way to the dresser.

The song switches. Coming Down by The Weeknd starts to play, its haunting melody creeping in like a shadow. I barely register it at first.

All alone All Alone All Alone. 

The intro, a reminder of my current life

The lyrics, though—

"I always want you when I’m coming down"—hit me hard, and I freeze in place. That’s exactly how I feel. Always coming down, always needing something when it fades.

I shift through my drawer, fingers trembling as I search for something—anything—that’ll take the edge off, ease the tension I’ve let build up in my chest. I don’t know how many Xanax I’ve already had. Maybe two, maybe more. I can't remember. My brain is foggy, but I don’t care. I find it—morphine. A small pill, white and unassuming. It promises relief.

I sit back down, back on the floor in front of my bed. The ashtray beside me catches my eye. 

When the fuck did I put that there? 

My thoughts are clouded, slipping through my fingers like water, but I feel the weight of that question. I stare at it, trying to piece together the memory of how it ended up there. But there’s no answer. Only silence, only the constant beat of the song, and the gnawing need for something to make it all stop.

I pop the morphine in my mouth, feeling it dissolve on my tongue as I lay my head back against the bed, eyes closed. My body sighs, the tension slowly draining, but it’s never enough. It’s never enough to make the hurt go away.

I reach for my stash, hands moving instinctively, and the thought comes to me, sharp and clear: 

Fuck it, Imma roll up another. It's that kinda night.

The lyrics echo through my head: “I always want you when I'm coming down,” and I let the weight of them wash over me. Always coming down. Always wanting something to fill the emptiness.

I roll the joint with mechanical precision, the familiar motion grounding me. The smoke, when it hits my lungs, feels like a friend. A constant. But the moment is fleeting. Always is.

I light it up, the flame flickering before the burn settles, and I take a deep drag. The world narrows down to the haze around me, but I’m still here, still broken in pieces, caught between wanting more and wanting to forget.

The smoke curls in the air, the room hazy as I exhale, but it doesn’t ease the pressure in my chest. It never does. The thoughts of her—Y/N—are like ghosts, haunting every damn corner of my mind, even when I'm trying to escape. Her voice, those words, echoing louder now in the silence.

Just get out!

Her words. A slap to my face that cuts deeper than any high could numb.

For fuck’s sake,

 even when I’m high, she’s still here, still fucking plaguing me. I can’t seem to shake it, not the anger, not the guilt, not the damn regret. I run a hand through my hair, frustrated, my heart pounding against my ribs. I fucking hate you... I mutter under my breath, the words bitter, a mix of rage and something else I can’t quite place. Something raw, something painful.

I take another hit, the smoke filling my lungs, and with it, that familiar burn, but it doesn't settle the storm inside. It doesn’t make the pain stop. It just makes it quieter, for a moment.

I sit back against the bed, staring at the ceiling, mind swimming in the haze, but one thing is crystal clear.

I miss you.

The thought hits me like a punch in the gut. Hard.

I miss you in ways I can’t even describe. I miss the way your eyes would light up when you laughed, the way you’d challenge me, even when you knew it pissed me off. I miss the way you used to look at me like you understood, like I wasn’t some fucking mess that needed to be fixed.

I wish I could take it back. I wish I hadn’t pushed you away.

But then again, what the fuck do I know about love? What do I know about keeping something good when I’ve spent my life burning everything I touch?

The high isn’t enough to make me forget you. It never is. The lyrics to the song “I always want you when I’m coming down” echo in the back of my mind, but it's not just the high. It's not just the drugs. It's something deeper. Something that keeps pulling at me, even when I don’t want it to.

I can’t escape it. I can’t escape you.

I take another drag, holding it in longer this time, but it doesn’t clear my mind. Nothing ever does. It just makes everything sharper, makes your absence feel even more suffocating.

I reach for my phone, the motion almost automatic, like it’s the only thing I know how to do when I’m drowning in this mess. My fingers hover over the screen for a second, but I press your name anyway. My thumb shakes, the screen lighting up in the dim room as I wait for you to pick up. The song continues, the lyrics hitting me like a goddamn truth:

“Pick up your phone, I’m all alone.”

It’s pathetic, I know. But I just need to hear your voice, even if it’s just for a second. Just to tell myself it wasn’t all a lie. Just to hear you tell me I’m not completely fucked.

But you don’t answer.

The call goes straight to voicemail, and for a second, I just stare at the screen, the silence in the room louder than the song now. My chest tightens. My fingers twitch. I don’t know if it’s anger or something else that crawls up my throat, but I toss the phone back onto the bed like it’s a weight, not caring where it lands. The screen flickers off, and I’m left with nothing but the empty room and the echo of your absence.

Fuck.

I sit there for a moment, just staring at the phone like maybe it’ll ring, like maybe you’ll magically pick up and everything will go back to how it used to be. But it doesn’t. It won’t.

God, I fucking miss you.

Geto walked into my room, his footsteps barely making a sound as he took in the mess. The roach of the blunt was barely glowing, now just a burnt stub, and I had stuff scattered all over the floor—like pieces of my life falling apart in front of me. I was sitting there, slouched against the wall, the ashtray close by, high as hell, trying to ignore everything, but it wasn’t working.

He walked over and handed me a bottle of water, but I didn’t want it. I didn’t want him to look at me, didn’t want anyone to see this version of me. I slapped the bottle away, hearing the thud as it hit the floor, and mumbled, “I don’t need it. I’m fine…”

But I wasn’t. I couldn’t keep the tears from falling. They just kept coming, and I felt like I couldn’t breathe through it.

Geto’s eyes flickered with concern as he took in the scene before him—my room was a disaster, much like my mind. He crouched down, unbothered by the mess, and quietly pushed the bottle back toward me.

“Drink it,” he said softly, his voice steady. “You’re not fine, Sukuna.”

I shook my head, a mix of anger and sadness bubbling inside me. “I said I don’t need it!” I snapped, the words coming out harsher than I intended. But the truth was, I felt anything but fine. The grief was suffocating, a thick fog that clouded my thoughts, and I could feel the tears threatening to spill over again.

“Gran... fuck man, why me?”

 I choked out, my voice cracking as I buried my face in my hands. It felt like I was falling apart, and I didn’t know how to put myself back together.

Geto remained quiet, letting me vent, and I appreciated that. It was rare to find someone willing to sit in the dark with me, someone who didn’t try to fix me but simply allowed me to feel my pain. After a moment, he spoke again, his tone softer.

“You’re not alone in this, you know.”

I scoffed, bitterness creeping into my voice. “It sure as hell feels like it.”

He sighed, moving closer and placing a hand on my shoulder. “You’ve got us. You’ve got me. But you have to let us in. You can’t keep pushing everyone away.”

I lifted my head, meeting his gaze, and for the first time, I saw a flicker of understanding in his eyes. “How can you say that? Look at me!” I gestured around the room, the chaos reflecting the turmoil inside me. “I’m a fucking mess.”

“And that’s okay,” he replied firmly. “We all have our demons. You don’t have to face yours alone.”

His words hung in the air, and I felt a twinge of hope. Maybe I didn’t have to do this by myself. Maybe I could lean on someone for once instead of pretending to be strong all the time.

I took a deep breath, the air catching in my throat. “I don’t want to lose her, Geto.”

He nodded slowly, the gravity of my words settling between us. “Then fight for her. But first, you have to fight for yourself.”

I looked down, my heart racing at the thought. “What if I’ve already lost her?”

“Then you fight harder,” he said, squeezing my shoulder. “You show her that you’re worth it. That you can be better. That you want to be better.”

I stared at the floor, uncertainty swirling in my chest. It was terrifying to think about confronting Y/N again, especially after everything that had happened. But maybe Geto was right. Maybe I needed to show her that I could change, that I could be the person she needed.

I picked up the water bottle, my fingers trembling slightly as I opened it and took a sip. The cool liquid felt refreshing against my dry throat. “I don’t know if I can do this.”

“You can,” Geto insisted, his voice steady. “Just take it one step at a time. Talk to her. Tell her everything. Just be honest.”

I nodded, the thought of being vulnerable both terrifying and exhilarating. “Okay. I’ll try.”

Geto smiled, his expression easing the tightness in my chest just a little. “That’s all I’m asking. Just don’t give up on her or yourself.”

As he stood up, heading to the door, I felt a flicker of determination ignite within me. It wouldn’t be easy but I think I can try

Maybe not I took another swig from the bottle, letting the cool water wash away some of the pain. I pushed myself to my feet, but as soon as I stood, a wave of dizziness washed over me. My vision blurred, and before I could react, my legs buckled beneath me. I hit the floor hard, the world spinning out of control as everything faded to black.

In that moment, all the pain, the grief, the memories—everything that had been weighing me down—vanished into the darkness, leaving me with nothing but silence.

[perlelune]

Tag, You’re It | Ethan Landry | viii.

Happy, carefree college days meet their abrupt end when every guy who approaches you mysteriously turns up dead.

Warnings: NON-CON, Stalking, Bimbo!Reader, Clueless Reader, Loss of Virginity, Incel Ethan, Cheerleader Reader, Skin Carving (w/knife), Canon Typical Slashing, Voyeurism, Kidnapping, Forced Masturbation, Filming, Blackmail

This is a dark story. Heed warnings before reading under the cut.

𝖘𝖊𝖗𝖎𝖊𝖘 𝖒𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙

“I can’t believe this is happening again,” you mumble, sniffling as you swallow yet another surge of tears. It’s all you’ve done in the last hour, weep your eyes out as Chad holds you against him.

“It’s not your fault, bean,” he reassures you, rubbing your shoulder and arm comfortingly. 

Similar words are uttered by Mindy and Anika on the other side of you. It’s what you’ve heard all night since it happened, that nothing is your fault. 

That you’re not the reason Tyler is hovering between life and death on a cold hospital bed, the machines hooked to his body being the only thing keeping him alive. 

You find that hard to believe. He made it clear it was all for your sake, taunted and berated you with that fact before hurting Tyler. 

The people who ferried him away on a gurney claimed it was a miracle he was still breathing when he was found considering the amount of blood he lost after the killer stabbed him over and over.

Like it was personal.

You know that it was. All of it is your fault.

And you can tell from the frosty glares his other teammates toss your way from their side of the waiting room that they likely feel the same. 

As nobody outside of family is allowed inside Tyler’s room, his friends are left to languish in the horrifying wait of whatever news may come. 

Your chest is tight as if it may burst any second. What started as a wonderful night spiraled into a nightmare, once again. 

And once again, you’re at the center of it all. The common denominator. The trouble magnet. 

You’d puke if your stomach weren’t so empty from sticking to Alana’s draconian pre-game diet.

“I feel like it is. If I didn’t date him…”  Your words falter as you choke on a sob. 

Chad’s forehead wrinkles in concern. “If you didn’t date him, what?”

You pull the Letterman jacket he wrapped around you earlier closer to your body. It’s pointless. The chilling sensation will not depart from your veins.

“I…I don’t know.”

He dips his head before heaving out a long sigh.

“I’m sorry I haven’t been there for you as much lately.”

Your lips tug in a doleful smile.

“It’s okay,” you affirm, shrugging. “You’ve got the team, and I was busy too, with cheerleading and everything else.”

“Still, I should have made the time. You’re important to me.”

Your chest swells with emotion as you consider him. His big brown eyes lock onto you, studying your shaking form. You find yourself wishing you could unburden your heart of every worry and fear weighing it down, just like before.

But you can’t.

Things have changed.

When you were younger, you never withheld anything from him. Chad was privy to every haphazard thought roaming in your head, however silly or insignificant. 

Now your lips are sealed by the sheer terror of what would befall your best friend if you confided in him or let him get too close for his liking.

“It’s okay.”

His large hand massages your back. “It’s not okay,” he mutters, “I don’t want you getting hurt again, so call me if you need anything. Promise?”

You mull over his request, heart pinching. Lying to Chad feels wrong, but you don’t want him to end like Tyler or…Connor.

“I promise,” you chime, exaggerating the cheerfulness in your tone.

“You’re part of the Core Five now. We have to look out for each other.”

Mindy scoffs and shakes her head at that. “You can’t just give us a name, dingus.”

“Well I just did, dingus,” Chad retaliates.

You let your mind drift, the twins’ antics fading amidst your gloom. Anika keeps stealing worried glances your way and you cloak yourself in a disguise made of false, reassuring smiles.

It couldn’t be further from the truth.

Inside, you are screaming.

Relief flutters through when a doctor finally makes an appearance. Your friends gather around you as you all rise from your seats. While Mindy holds one of your hands, Chad clutches the other.

Everyone turns to the man, a glint of hope etched in every gaze. 

But this light quickly dims when he announces the dire news.

Tyler’s been in a coma since his return from surgery. No one knows for sure when he’ll wake up.

The world collapses around you. As your legs buckle beneath you, Chad and Mindy’s arms are the only thing keeping you upright.

“Can we see him?” one of the players, Jeff, inquires eagerly.

The doctor nods. “Sure, his friends can come and see him.” As you step forward, the man impedes your path with a gentle hand on your arm, an apology creeping on his features. “Not you.”

Shock bolts through you. The breath is snatched from your lungs as you gape at the man.

“Why not?” Mindy asks.

She glowers at the doctor who cowers slightly under her accusing stare. He clears his throat and fumbles with his pen and notepad.

“You are that girl who used to date Connor Richards, that kid who was also...attacked, aren’t you?”

“What does this have to do with anything?” Chad asks, his irate expression mirroring his sister’s.

“The parents insisted-”

A dry laugh bursts from Mindy’s throat. “Are you serious? She barely knew him before he got stabbed.”

The doctor sighs, rubbing the weathered lines of his face.

“Either way, the parents do not want her anywhere near the patient,” he says, his inflection firmer than before. “They were quite adamant about it.”

“Probably ‘cause she’s cursed," Jeff whispers under his breath. 

Tears pool in your eyes. While you're starting to think that yourself, hearing it uttered aloud packs a different kind of gut punch. 

Mindy steps in front of you, invading Jeff's space with a wild look on her face. 

“You want to say that again?”

"I don't fight little girls," he sneers derisively. 

Before Mindy can lunge herself at him, both Anika and Chad hold her back. 

“Mindy, don’t," Anika says, squeezing her girlfriend's shoulder. 

Chad’s nostrils flare as his gaze cuts into Jeff’s.

"I think you might want to watch your mouth before I shove my fist in it,” he warns.

A sliver of dread flickers on his face and he raises his palms defensively.

"Hey, it's all good, man. I was just joking around. You know how it is."

“No, I don’t,” Chad replies, the muscles of his jaw ticking.

As the tension grows, your fingers skim over his bicep.

“It’s fine, guys. I’m just gonna head home. I’m super tired anyway.”

All the ire on his face melts away as he turns to you. You shudder at the nasty look Jeff casts your way as he and the other players walk away.

“No way you’re staying alone tonight,” Chad says, wiping an errant tear from your cheek. “We should stay together, have a sleepover like when we were kids.”

The shadow of a smile curves your lips.

“Sounds nice but I think I’d rather be alone.”

“But you hate being alone.”

His remark has you nibbling your bottom lip anxiously as you lower your head. He’s not wrong, of course, but the idea of being around other people sets you on edge at the moment.

You fiddle with your hands.

“Right now, there’s nothing I want more.”

“Let me drive you back home at least,” he insists.

You look before you. Each of your friends wears the same concerned expression.

You can’t summon any excuse, so you surrender with a weary exhale.

“Okay. You can…drive me home I guess.”

“Chad, I think you missed a turn-” you say, brows knitting as his car takes the path opposite to campus.

Undeterred, he keeps driving smoothly.

“There's no way I'm letting you be by yourself tonight.”

You open your mouth to argue and even whirl to Mindy who responds with a shrug. Your focus settles on Chad again. His features are taut with determination. You slump in your seat, defeated. There’s no changing his mind when he’s like this. Arguing would be for naught.

Much like his sister, he can be incredibly stubborn.

Forehead against the window, you let the familiar purr of Chad’s car ensconce you in cocoon of peace. It’s a rare comfort, one you’ve missed as of late so you let yourself relish the moment.

“Are you hiding something from me?”

His blunt inquiry plucks a startled gasp from you.

“No,” you reply quickly. Maybe too quickly. His brows collide, forming a deep frown.

Soft brown eyes peel away from the road to rest on you instead.

“You know you can tell me anything, right?” He pauses, adding with emphasis, “If you’re in trouble, for example.”

Your heart bounces in your chest but you school your features as best as you can.

“I’m not in trouble,” you shakily respond.

He studies you long enough for your breath to grow scattered. Eventually, a chuckle spills from his lips, though it’s bereft of mirth.

“You’ve always been the worst liar, you know?”

No retort comes so you swaddle yourself in silence again. 

Spending the night at the Meeks-Martin household feels just like old times, when things were simple and you weren’t so paranoid.

Chad lets you borrow one of his shirts to sleep in and Mindy makes you a warm drink before everyone heads to bed. 

Chad insists to lay a futon near Mindy’s bed to watch over you and you’re entirely too drained to argue with him again. 

As soon as your head hits the pillow, you’re out for the count, the day’s fatigue claiming its rights.

For once, you’re relaxed.

But it doesn’t last.

The flimsy blanket of tranquility is ripped from you when your phone buzzes in the dead of night. 

Whining drowsily, you stir between the sheets. Mindy groans as you reach across from her to collect it from the night table.

The glow of your phone screen sears into your retinas, making you squint in the darkness.

Lazily, you open the notification that flashes across your screen. 

When you do, you’re hurled into wakefulness. 

Hey, princess. Nice night for a midnight stroll, don’t you think?

A wobbly whimper leaves your lips as you read the taunting message and the photo accompanying it. Even in the dusky light of the picture, the distinctive outline of the Meeks-Martin house in unmistakable.

He’s here.

Close enough to harm the friends soundly sleeping next to you.

Dread twists your gut, a chill seeping into your very bones. You jump to your feet. 

You don’t pay attention to your surroundings as you rush to grab your things as quietly as you can.

Heart pounding a deafening uproar in your ears, you tiptoe outside of Mindy’s room. Hectic fingers already swipe through your touchscreen to call a car to pick you up and take you back to your dorm.

Despite your hushed trek to the front door, a familiar voice hails you on your way out.

“Where are you going?”

Your shoulders sag as you pivot to Chad. He rubs his eyes and frowns as his gaze falls on the bag tucked under your arm.

“I’m calling an Uber. I need to go home.”

His frown accentuates. “It’s the middle of the night.”

“And I didn’t even want to be here…You tricked me!”

Hurt flashes across his face at your accusation and you instantly regret your words.

“I didn’t…” He trails off, approaching you as sadness glimmers in his warm, brown orbs. “I’m just trying to protect you.”

“I don’t need you to protect me.”

“I wasn’t around and you got hurt.”

“Hurt?” you snort, feeling a new wave of tears building behind your eyes. “I’m not the one lying in a hospital bed, remember?”

“Still…”

He reaches out for you and you slap his hand away.

“Don’t touch me!”

Chad’s eyebrows rise to his hairline. His tone softens as he asks, “What’s wrong with you, bean?” 

When you turn away, he lifts your chin and cradles your face.

“Hey, you can talk to me. It’s me.” His thumbs brush away the tears you didn’t even realize had began pouring again. “Whatever you need, I’m here.”

You swallow a lungful of painful air. Your fingers wrap around Chad’s wrists to pry his hands away from your face.

“What I need is space, Chad.”

Shock paralyzes him, his eyes widening. 

The car you ordered skids to a halt outside and you dart across the night to catch your ride.

Tears blur your vision as you plop into the backseat.

Quiet sobs shake your frame, a sea of salty anguish flowing down your cheeks.

You don’t know how you deluded yourself into thinking anywhere could be safe from him, that he’d let you breathe even a little.

There is no more air, no shelter, no haven…no place that will shield you from him.

Nowhere is safe. And you’re alone. Completely.

~

[janamelie]

Smegtober Prompt 4 - Virtual Reality

Set immediately after "Beyond A Joke".

Kochanski refilled her glass and took more long gulps of water.  The burning sensation had gone but the discomfort was lingering.  She coughed.

“Yeah, it was a hot one, wasn’t it?”

She glared at Lister.  “I’ve had hot curry before.  That was more than hot, it was … molten.”  Not strictly accurate of course, but in this case hyperbole was justified.

“Krytes said he made a mistake in the programming.”

She raised a sceptical eyebrow.  “Did he really?  He didn’t seem too cut up about it.”

“He wouldn’t’ve done that on purpose!”

“He drove a tank into Jane Austen World because we were late for supper!”

Stumped, Lister cleared his throat.  “Maybe we should give that game a rest for a bit.��

She sighed.  “I know, it’s not your cup of tea.  My Dave liked it though.”

Immediately on the defensive, Lister rolled his eyes.  “Don’t tell me, he really loved all the balls.”  He put a sneery emphasis on the last word.

“Yes, actually.  Although he liked what we did after them even more.  Do you know how sturdy a grand piano is?”

The facial journey he went through was hysterical.  “What?”

“You know how you can play the book characters if you like?  We used to play Darcy and Elizabeth.  There was an option for post-canon at Pemberley.”

He stared blankly at her. 

“After the book ends, when they’re married,” she clarified.

“Hold on, you telling me you and him used to … do it in AR?  In a Jane Austen game?!”

“Why not?”

“That game didn’t have an Adult mode.  Did it?”

“Of course it does.  Obviously we were playing the General Audiences version earlier.”

“But… he was hardlight.  You were together.  Why would you…”

“Every relationship needs some spice.  Especially in deep space.”

“Oh come on, you’re havin’ me on, aren’t ya?  Like about your Todhunter being gay.”

She simply stared at him.

“Aren’t you?”

She wrinkled her nose noncommittally.  “Maybe.”

“Oh, you are.  Had me goin’ there for a minute.  Well played.”  Grinning with relief, he rose from the kitchen table and headed up the metal staircase back towards Starbug’s mid-section.

She waited until he was well out of sight before allowing herself a dreamy smile. 

[seventeenpins]

west

prologue

pairing: Joel Miller x nb!character

word count: 2.7k

genre: period western/horror

summary: Dakota Territory, 1879. Joel Miller, a widower, lives on the outskirts of Deadwood with his brother and daughter. After travelling north from Texas two years earlier, they've put down roots in the community. Tommy came for the gold rush, and Joel came to keep an eye on Tommy. The end of the world arrives piece by piece, and then all at once.

warnings: glaring historical inaccuracies, canon typical violence, allusions to a suicide attempt, essentially just the opening of the show/game but set in 1879 with some bits adjusted, the horrors of being a person in the 1800s, nb love interest is essentially a reader self-insert but is named (tho won't appear till the next chapter), it will be a slowwwww burn.

a/n: Ok, a funny thing that didn't come up in my research till I was ninety percent thru the outline and halfway thru the chapter but had independently decided on 1879 as the setting -- Deadwood actually burned down on September 26, 1879. Figured it was serendipitous. Happy Birthday, Joel! 🫠

The day the world ended, the sun rose bright across the valley. Autumn was just starting to emerge and dust motes appeared suspended in the bright sunbeams, forested wilderness surrounding the town of Deadwood. The leaves weren't changed, not fully, but here and there you could find a red tree amongst the green ones, and you knew they'd follow soon.

Joel was exhausted. His head ached. His bones ached. He could already feel the stiffness in his muscles from yesterday's work, and today would be no better.

The first few cries of the rooster hadn't done so much as stir him, but now as morning truly broke, he could smell mouth-watering aromas wafting up from below, heard the bustling in his kitchen and his belly rumbled, waking him up right quick.

He scrunched his face up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, and went over to the basin to splash cool water on his face. He stared at his reflection in his glass. Another year older. Another strand of silver in his hair. Thirty six. He'd made it to thirty six.

He pulled a shirt from his drawer and frowned. It was soft, cotton, and one of his favorites, but he was sure this one was torn at the shoulder, left to waste away in the oft forgotten mending basket. He shook it out and peered at it–sure enough, it had been torn, but now it was mended with fine, careful stitches.

Sarah. It must've been.

That girl was busy herself, but it warmed him, that she'd taken the time to mend her old pa's shirts without him ever having to ask.

He dresses quickly, tucking in his mended shirt, buttoning his trousers, adjusting his suspenders. He wasn't a vain man, but he takes pride in his work, and his mama always told him "It ain't about vanity, Joel. You take yourself and your appearance serious, others will too."

He grew up with little, but his mama was an accomplished seamstress. Her mending was impeccable, and any time she found a discarded bit of fabric, she'd bring it back to life and make it twice as pretty as she found it. Joel reckoned she was the best dressed woman in all of Texas. She collected issues of Good Housekeeping and Harper's, taking account of all the latest fashions. She built corsets and cages and all the ladies would flock to her to do them up just as pretty.

Joel combed back his hair. Stared in the mirror for just a moment longer, lost in his memories. Nodded, and stepped downstairs.

"Pa!" Sarah grinned at him as he entered the kitchen, "Lookin' mighty fine this morning."

She pulled him in and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

"Thank you, baby girl," he grinned back, "You makin' us breakfast?"

"Yep!" She nods, and hands him a plate. Drop biscuits, a little burnt, swimming in gravy, a cup of wild berries on the side, and a hot cup of coffee.

He took a deep breath, inhaling the spiraling tendrils of coffee vapour and let out a delighted hum. "You spoil me, kiddo."

"'Course," she nodded, and took a big bite of her own biscuit.

"Uncle Tommy home?" Joel asked, and Sarah shook her head, a couple of biscuit crumbs scattering around her, "Nah, he went out early today. Said he wanted to get done with his work early so he can celebrate your birthday."

Joel raised an eyebrow. "Celebrate my birthday?" he scoffs, "Stop by the saloon or lose all his money at cards and still make it on time to dinner is more like it."

He took one last gulp of his coffee and placed the mug down.

"We'll have a nice night," Sarah assured him, "An' I told Uncle Tommy he best be here in time for supper or else. And I'm makin' you a cake."

"Okay, baby. You'd best be off to school, now. I'll get these dishes taken care of."

"You sure?" She asked.

"Positive."

Sarah nodded, pulled off her apron, tossed a few of her favorite books in her satchel and tore out the door.

Joel went off for his work. Only two years they'd been in the Black Hills, Joel, Sarah and Tommy, but they'd made a nice little home. They came up after Sarah's mama passed, and Tommy heard about the gold rush. He insisted it was all because of the rush he wanted to come, but Sarah always suspected he came because he knew Joel would follow, and her pa needed a change of scenery. He'd almost faded into a ghost himself, sitting round their empty old house, nearly lost in memories. Grief had a way of consuming him.

So they'd traveled North, left Texas behind for good, and made a new life for themselves.

The schoolhouse had been around since before the Millers arrived in Deadwood, but there hadn't been a teacher till Spring of this year. Joel was glad Sarah finally had a chance for a proper education. Smart as a whip, that one, and hungry for knowledge. He couldn't wait to see what she was gonna do.

There weren't a lot of kids, or even that many women in the community outside of the brothels, but the Millers had established themselves. Tommy was something of a wild card, getting into bar fights more often than Joel would prefer, but he'd never gotten on the wrong side of a quick draw, and he had enough charm he managed to get out of most of the trouble he found himself in. And Joel–Joel was reliable. Whether he was fixing someone's step, or making sure to haul that extra meat back after a hunt to ensure one of Sarah's friends would have enough to eat, he could be depended on.

The day the world ended, Joel saddled up Delphine, his dapple grey, and mounted her, tools packed neatly in her panniers. Today, he'd be working on repairs at the general store. They rode from their home at the outskirts towards town.

As he approached, he slowed to a walk. Something felt off, like there was a tension about to snap. But no one was bleeding, and some days on the frontier that felt like a high enough bar to clear.

Along Main Street, he could hear strained voices.

"The telegraphs stopped coming-" He heard one man say.

"Problem with the wire?" Another asked.

The first man shook his head. "Naw, had some of my guys inspect it. Everything should be workin'. It just- it ain't."

"How long's it been going on?"

"Been five days now. Never seen it like this before."

"Ain't seen any coaches for weeks now, too. It's like the route just stopped altogether. Don't know how to get word to my folks back east about the new baby if we've got no mail and no telegraphs."

The day the world ended, Joel made it home by sunset, just in time to find Sarah plating up their dinner.

"Good day?" She asked, and he nodded.

"Yeah, got lots done. Next time you go by the general store, you'll see a door that swings smoothly on its hinges and brand new windowpanes."

"That's great, Pa!" she smiled. It warmed her to see his pride in his work.

"Uncle Tommy home yet?" Joel asked.

"No," Sarah frowned, "Thought he'd be back a couple hours ago, too. Guess you're right."

"Reckon he's lost track of time. Though- Huh, I didn't see him at the saloon when I rode by."

"There's always the cathouse?" Sarah suggested, and Joel snorted and shook his head. It wasn't an impossibility.

"Well-," Sarah paused, "There'll be cake waiting for him, but at least have your supper before it gets cold."

"Thank you baby," Joel smiled, took his plate from her, and dug in.

The night felt heavy, something in the atmosphere pressing like a weight through the world. All the food was eaten (besides a small plate left for Tommy) and the cake was cut, when the gunshots started outside.

Sarah started and Joel bolted upright, swinging around to grab the rifle by the door without a second thought.

"What's happening?" she asked.

Joel shook his head, crouching down by the window, pushing the curtains aside and peering through.

"I don't know, baby. Just stay calm, stay low. We're gonna be okay."

There was no one directly outside, but the gunshots continued, and the more Joel stared, the more he could see smoke rising from town.

"Looks like a fire," he told her, "Don't know what the shootin's about, though. And–" His eyes narrowed, heartbeat pounded. "We gotta block the door, baby, there's someone coming."

"Is it Uncle Tommy?" She asked, eyes wide and voice small.

"No, I don't think–" Joel had grabbed the heavy mahogany table by the legs and started tugging, but did a double take out the window. "Wait, you're right!"

It was Tommy, galloping towards their home on a mount Joel didn't recognize. Before Tommy was even a hundred feet away, Joel could hear him call out his name.

"Joel!" Tommy bellowed, "We gotta get outta here!"

Joel swung the door open and Tommy stumbled in.

"Somethin's happening," he wheezed, breaths coming quickly, panic etched across his face, running to the cabinet and filling his pack with ammo. A knife. Another revolver. "We gotta pack up anythin' we can't afford to lose. The town's on fire. There are these people, fuck, Joel, it's like they're the Devil's got 'em."

"Like the Devil's got 'em?" Joel asked, pulling two bags from pegs by the door. "The fuck you mean? You been on the shine again?" He turned to Sarah. "Start packin', baby. Clothes, medicine. Cash, too, you know the drawer?"

She nodded and ran upstairs, and Joel turned back to Tommy, fumbling through papers and photos, knowing he had no time for sentiment but couldn't bear to leave without trying to think of everything.

"They're fuckin' possessed," Tommy explained, "Won't listen to reason. It's a fuckin' mess in town. A few coaches came through today and there were men on it raving, saying some kinda devilry was coming through. They seemed crazy, so we just laughed. Didn't think much of it."

He shook his head and ran a palm down his face. That's when Joel noticed the blood on his sleeve.

"Jesus," Joel said, "You hurt?"

Tommy shook his head, confused, and then looked where Joel was looking and exhaled. "Naw," he exhaled, "That blood ain't mine."

"So what happened?"

"Well," Tommy continued, "An hour or so later we heard screaming. Turns out a couple folks who'd come in by train from down South a day or so ago, who weren't feelin' all that well, they'd been to the doctor and went crazy. Started twitchin'. Bitin'. Proper bitin' people. They got these things in their mouths, these weird fuckin' tendrils-"

Joel stared at him, a muscle in his jaw tensing.

"I know it sounds crazy, Joel, but something bad is fuckin' happening. Don't know what it is. All I know is people are tearing each other up. And we gotta get outta here."

Joel was silent a minute and then nodded, solemn.

"Okay." He took a deep breath. "We're gonna get outta here."

"We are," Tommy agreed, "But we both know the only way out is through town, and it's a shit show right now."

"Fuck," Joel hissed and looked out the window again, "Looks like the whole town is on fire."

"It is," Tommy nodded, "But we can avoid Main Street. Go to the outside, and around to the thoroughfare."

"Fine." Then Joel called upstairs, "We gotta go, baby!"

Sarah re-emerged, two bags packed full. "I got clothes for both of us. Money. Few other things."

"Thank you, baby."

They saddled up their horses, Tommy on his stolen mare, Joel and Sarah on Delphine.

Joel hated this, hated that they had to pass through town to pass by Deadwood and across into the Black Hills, but they were at the edge of the gulch. No way to go but through.

Before they rode, Joel cupped the back of Sarah's head with one hand, closed his eyes and pressed a kiss to her forehead. He nearly didn't, worried her pa would be embarrassing her. But he did. For the rest of his life, he was always glad that he did.

As they rode through flames, they saw the foundations of the place they called home begin to crumble. It was chaos. It was worse than Joel ever could have imagined. The town was engulfed in madness, men eating one another toppled over onto the dusty ground. Smoke choked them and made their eyes water as they rode through with cloths pressed to their mouths, trying to avoid the worst of it. There were a few folks who had built barricades and stood beyond them, guns aimed, trying to take down the most violent of the possessed. It was horrifying, their friends, colleagues, and neighbors engaged in a fight to the death. It was wrong wrong wrong and by God it was the end of the world.

They saw the younger Adlers torn to pieces, and the elder running on all fours as she tried to rip apart someone else.

"Hold onto me, baby," Joel said, pulling her in in an attempt to shield her from the bodies. She'd already gotten a glimpse and couldn't help but stare, and she stared for a moment before she felt nauseous. Then, she screwed up her eyes and held on tight.

They saw Jimmy's place in flames. The baker's. The saloon. There were women running from the brothel, still rouged and bright as they aimed their guns at the monsters around them.

Through side paths and shortcuts, down alleyways and in the gaps between houses, they rode desperately through Deadwood. The buildings Joel had helped erect and the repairs he'd completed in the past few years had given him an intricate knowledge of the settlement. They rode fast and sure, evading the devils that clutched at the air, reaching for their ankles as they rode by.

Makeshift barricades had been put up all along the outskirts of town. Each way they turned, there was no way through. They rode back and forth, crisscrossing the streets as they tried their best to pull away from the writhing bodies in the dirt.

It wasn't till they passed the very last buildings down Main Street, right by the edge of town, that they slowed.

The sheriff lay dead, a bullet right between his eyes, bleeding out on the dusty street corner. A circuit rider loomed ahead of him on his mount, hands resting on his shotgun that, slung over his shoulder. Blood drenched his forearms, spattered against his coat, so soaked it shone visible even against the heavy wool. There was a fear in his eyes, a terror that unsettled them.

When he saw the Millers, he straightened and raised the weapon.

"Preacher, let us through," Tommy said, and the homilist darted his eyes between the men.

"Can't let anyone past," the man said, "This here's the reckoning. No one's gonna escape the inevitable."

Tommy raised his revolver. "I ain't askin' again. Let us through."

The preacher steadied his shaking hands and aimed his shotgun "But the day of the Lord will come as a thief in the night; in the which the heavens shall pass away with a great noise, and the elements shall melt with fervent heat, the earth also and the works that are therein shall be burned up-"

It's hard to say who fired first.

In a split second, two gunshots rang out, fragmented echos of one another. The preacher fell. So did Joel and Sarah.

The bullet grazed through Joel's side, and he clutched at his abdomen, holding the wound.

"Joel-!" Tommy cried as he flung himself from his mount, the preacher dead and already forgotten.

Joel rolled over and crawled towards where Sarah lay. The bullet that had gone through Joel pierced her belly and she shook, blood spurting and pooling from the wound.

He tried to apply pressure, tried to slow the bleeding, but her screams and sobs stilled him.

"I'm sorry, baby," he cried, and she shook, eyes darting around, trying to focus and failing.

"Pa-," she croaked.

"It's okay, baby girl," he lied, "You're gonna be okay."

She exhaled in a final gurgling puff, blood spattering across her perfect face, and Joel howled.

She was gone, he knew it, but still he cradled her.

Tommy stroked her hair and wiped the blood off her cheek. Joel pressed his head to her chest and wept, horrible strangled heaves caught in each exhale.

The day the world ended, Joel's world ended, too.

They carried her body with them for miles, Joel holding her close even as he felt her begin to cool and stiffen. Time escaped them as they rode, and around sunrise, they found a creek with wildflowers blanketing the banks. A small herd of pronghorns leaped along the water.

Tommy dug a hole and Joel told her stories, rocking her back and forth in his arms. All the ones he could remember, that she loved so much when she was little. Told her to rest easy now, baby.

They lowered her into the ground, and Joel wept. Tommy assembled a small cairn at the head of her grave. Joel looked down at his mended shirt and realised it was ruined with blood. The last gift from his daughter, and he'd ruined it.

Joel embraced Tommy. Held his brother close and told him he loved him. Muttered something about needing a moment to himself and wandered off.

The day his world ended, Joel tried to follow her into the darkness. A gunshot rang out, echoing through the hills.

Tommy ran to the sound and found him, crumpled but very much alive. He held his big brother close, cloth pressed hard to his bleeding temple, brushing away his streaming tears as he cried himself, terrified to lose all of his remaining family in a single day.

The day the world ended, the last two Millers were covered in blood and filth and tears. All they had was each other, their horror and their fear.

[eunchancorner]

MISSION COMPLETE: Remorseless Bounty Hunter

Y'know that idea I had earlier? I wrote a shitty drabble for it

-

Master Bounty Hunter, remember how it goes.

Henry forced himself to stay focused, despite just having the wind knocked out of him.

“C’mon, on your feet,” the gruff voice of Reginald’s Right Hand Man told him. Henry scrambled up, facing the cyborg with renewed ferocity, as he gave the line that brought Henry to the next options, “I’ll give ya one shot~”

Cheap Fighting Combo, Self-Destruct, Rock Paper Scissors, Dance-Off

Ignoring the temptation of the Dance-Off in favor of his own life, he pulled the Cheap Fighting Combo; a series of uppercuts and low blows that followed RHM up the ramp of the rocket like a fighter-style game. But something strange began to happen around him as he did. Henry felt the world around him freezing. Glitching.

Something’s going on with the timeline… No, focus! Focus on the choice, dammit!

As he finally stopped his attack, the familiar words came from the redhead.

“Ngh… my cy-y-y-yber… ne-ne-netics…”

Henry grabbed him as he began to power down, before hearing that familiar line that reminded him that his job wasn’t quite done.

Finish Him, Rewire, Dance-Off, Ocarina

With the world frozen around him, Henry knew what he had to do. But for some reason, he hesitated. He realized something. He realized how valuable Right Hand Man was as an asset, but he knew he couldn’t take the older man with him…

Unless…

Oh my god. I know what I did wrong in the rewiring!

Henry quickly chose Rewire, then as he rewired RHM, he looked up at the rocket. He stepped back as the cyborg awoke, his eye now bright blue.

“Henry! We gotta put a stop to these Toppats! C’mon,” the redhead urged, and Henry and him took the familiar flight up to the top of the rocket, crashing through one of the windows.

“Hold it!” RHM yelled at Sven, who jumped and looked at him with a mixture of fear and confusion. “The Toppats are finished! You’re not going anywhere…”

“What is happening…?” the blonde questioned, looking between his former leader and Henry.

Shit! Before he converts him back!

“Kill him now, Right Hand Man!” Henry ordered, and instantly the cyborg’s arm morphed into that familiar laser canon, pointed directly at Sven.

“Copy.”

“N-no, wait! NonoNONO DA-”

The cannon fired, cutting off Sven's panicked yelling as the top half of his body was instantly vaporized, leaving his lower half to fall and lay on the ground. It was overkill, sure, but it worked.

Wait.

It worked. Oh my god, it worked.

“Right Hand Man, get us down to that announcement tower!” Henry ordered from him, and again, the redhead flew them down to their destination, crashing seamlessly through the window once again.

“Quickly, announce to all the Toppats to surrender!” he demanded, stepping back as RHM activated the PA.

“All Toppats, surrender now, I repeat, surrender now!” The announcement rang loud over the speakers, and Henry could see all the Toppats below looking around in confusion. He could tell they wanted to know why Right had the sudden change of heart, but eventually they all began to lower their guns, before raising their hands in surrender as the soldiers swarmed them.

“You won’t need this anymore…” he decided, snatching the hat off of Right’s head and stuffing it into his bag, just as a precaution. “C’mon, looks like our job here is done.”

The two headed back down to the crowd, Henry keeping his hand on Right’s shoulder and glaring at any soldiers who pointed their guns at him. Eventually, they reached where General Galeforce and Charles were, just off the rocket’s boarding ramp.

“General,” Henry and RHM chorused, saluting. Henry glanced at the cyborg, impressed with how much he’d apparently learned just from the rewiring.

“Henry, I see you’ve managed to convert two of these bastards, somehow,” the general began, earning a confused look from the tall cyborg.

“Uh, two other guys, don’t worry about it,” Henry murmured to RHM.

“I think we’ll head on back to base now, maybe get the big guy fixed up better. He seems to be a good partner for ya.”

[akasalv]

Lovely daggers (pierced my heart many moons ago) 🗡

Stranger Things | Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson | Max Mayfield, Dustin Henderson, Robin Buckley | Canon divergence, season 2 AU, friends to lovers, secret relationship

Warnings: period typical homophobia, internalized homophobia, Canon typical violence and Vecna stuff

Chapter 1: 1984 is live! See below for an excerpt:

“Are you okay, sweetheart?” Mrs. Byers asks, looking up at Steve with her big brown eyes and Steve knows there must be something wrong with him because as the adrenaline fades, he’s seeing two of her. But he doesn’t want to stand still long enough for her two sets of hands to land on their mark. He dodges her attempt to hold him still so she can make eye contact. Dodging makes Steve’s balance shaky but at least Mrs. Byers lifts her hands in surrender. Eying him like he’s a scared animal or kid.

Steve hasn’t had a concussion before, he can’t say for sure if that’s what he’s feeling, but he’s seen it on the court. And Mrs. Byers has the same look on her face as the coaches had when Alex Carver hit the deck nose first in the deciding game the one year they almost made it to the Championships. He can pretend that the fear is just from seeing a kid her son’s age bandaged up - poorly - and bruised, but Steve knows. The shiner throbbing from his left eye is worse than the one her son gave him the year before.

Thankfully, only Mrs. Byers is tracking that something is wrong with him. The kids have forgotten him in favor of corralling around Will and El in a group puppy-pile. If he can just dodge away from the adults, Steve can make his exit without having to issue his goodbyes. Nancy and Jonathan are coupled up in the kitchen, patching each other up anyway. No one should miss him.

“Let the boy run off, Joyce,” the Chief says gruffly. He’s got a beer in hand, and he’s handing one to Joyce, occupying her empty hands. “We’ve got our hands full as it is without trying to adopt strays who don’t want our help.”

That ruffles Steve’s feathers, even as he’s grateful for the escape. He glares at the Chief as best he can and lets a little of the old him shine through. It’s the chin up look of daring he's given the Chief before, daring the man to try and call his parents in New York - if they even answered then they’d pretend they gave Steve permission to throw the party. If only to keep up appearances.

Hopper rolls his eyes. “Take your ass to the ER if you start seeing halos around the lights or feeling dizzy, kid. Don’t make me drag you there,” Hopper adds before steering Joyce away, providing Steve his exit.

Steve makes a break for it, sneakers slipping on the trash and mess of the house that he and Billy made as he jogs for the door before anyone else can stop him. In the front yard, he pats himself down for the keys to the beemer only to come up empty. “Fuck,” he curses, tipping his head back despite the pain. He must have left the keys inside - if he had them, the kids would’ve stolen them earlier and it would have been his beemer that Mad Max almost crashed. “Fuuuuuck,” he curses again, long and low. It’s at least a half hour walk from here to Loch Nora on the other side of town.

He weighs the chances of sneaking back in where Henderson might catch him or Hopper might look at him with amusement at Steve coming back, tail between his legs. Or the long walk. When Steve opens his eyes and really looks above him, the stars are shaky and swirling. Probably a better idea is that he doesn’t drive, Steve decides. And not because he knows he won’t make it back out of the house without being held up.

Steve trudges toward the road and follows it in the direction of the lights of downtown Hawkins.

[ashbeneviento]

Taking A Break:

Mia Winters x Miranda

Tags: AU (with canon game lore sprikled in), Cheating, Miranda is the boss, Ethan is a bad husband, Kissing, sexual content implied

I needed more MamaMia content so I made some, I didn’t plan on continuing this but I might. No beta reader, sorry for any grammatical mistakes! Thanks for reading <3

***

Mia sat at her desk in complete silence. Well, almost complete silence. Her pen clicked against the wood in frustration. She was supposed to be focusing on the results of her study, she was supposed to be home an hour ago.

However, with the events that happened earlier in her shift she found it hard to focus, the memory of it all still burning in the back of her mind with confusion, excitement, and worst of all…guilt.

Mia groaned and dropped the pen from her fingers and pushed her face into her hands.

**Earlier**

It was lunch break and Mia spent most of it outside of the building yelling yet again into the phone at her husband. Ever since they were relocated Ethan has been insufferable. Always demanding her to give every detail about the research she was doing (even though it was against policy). Always asking if she was okay a hundred times a day until her yes’s turned into no’s. He treated her like a damsel in distress, always needing to be saved from a force that no longer existed.

Mia had been grateful for him saving her life, that wasn’t up for debate. But now, even years after the incident in Louisiana he still continued to bring it up. Mia started to wonder if he actually even cared about her still, or that he was just using it as a form of control over her. She was not a damsel in distress for fucks sake.

“I told you I can’t tell you anything”

“Yes..that includes the staffs spouses..”

“Ethan.. you’re not- you’re not listening to me!”

“Fine. Believe what you want. I’m going to try and enjoy the rest of my fucking break. Bye”

With a hard tap against the end call button she groaned in anger. Fighting the urge to chuck her phone against concrete, she shoved the phone back into her pocket unaware that she wasn’t alone out here.

“Are you alright, Mrs. Winters?”

The voice startled Mia as she whipped her head around towards who the voice belonged to.

Her boss.

The woman’s cold glare was nothing short of unerving. Miranda always looked like a snake ready to strike a puny mouse.

“Uh.. yeah. I guess.. I’m sorry if I was causing a scene” Mia sighed as she looked away.

Miranda’s heels clacked as she approached closer, stopping to stand right next to her.

Mia didn’t know exactly why Miranda made her so uncomfortable, but judging by the way her colleagues cowered every second the blonde was around assured she wasn’t alone. And prehaps Miranda was just a power tripping bitch of a person. Mia didn’t dare to say that to anyone else, though.

“I could hear you from my office..” Miranda replies. Monotone and not impressed, flicking her lighter and raising it to the cigarette that was between her teeth.

Mia couldn’t help but blush from embarrassment. If Miranda could hear her from outside that meant so did many others.

Even still, she didn’t know why this spot with her boss would give her the courage to open her mouth and confess every little thing she was pissed off with Ethan for.

Miranda watched as she ranted. Her cold demeanor never breaking eye contact as the brunette spoke.

Every once and a while she would take a drag and exhale slowly, seemingly uninterested until Mia mentioned something a little more personal than she intended.

“…I can’t even have sex with him. There’s no intimacy. I practically have to beg for him to cuddle. Let alone take me to bed..” Mia coughs when she lets it slip. She doesn’t see the small smirk tugging at the blondes mouth, facing away in embarrassment for bringing the topic up to her boss.

“Sorry. I think I just needed to vent, I.. feel better now. I’m going to get lunch” Mia says quickly after a moment of akward silence, turning away towards the door before a surprisingly strong hand pulls at her arm.

“Don’t tell me you’re eating that bland shit from the cafeteria again” Miranda scoffs, her nose scrunched up in obvious disgust.

Mia can only stare back and shrug.

“I forgot to pack�� she replies plainly. She couldn’t help herself when she thought of how Miranda’s han-…

Miranda rolls her eyes and stomps the butt of her cigarette with her heel, effectively pulling Mia away from her wandering mind.

“Are you in a hurry?” Miranda asks as she opens the door for herself, Mia promptly following after her.

“I have half an hour left so.. not really. Why?”

“I packed way too much for the day and I hate leftovers” The blonde answers over her shoulder and heads to her office. It earned them a few confused faces from coworkers as they watched the two women enter and shut the door behind them.

“I thought you were Romanian?” Mia asks as she savors the carbonara in her mouth.

Miranda smirks, twirling a fork into her own bowl across the desk.

“I am. A friend made this for me, she sends me a recipe every now and again.. but I never cook the noodles right” She answers and it makes Mia wonder who this friend of hers was. Or that it was possible for the harsh and bitter woman to even have friends at all…

“Mm..” is all she could respond with.

When the two of them were done eating the office shifted into an uncomfortable silence. Should she leave? Stay? She did have 15 minutes left…

“So Mrs. Winters..” Miranda pauses, “Has this lack of intimacy with your husband cause you to fall behind on work?”

Mia swallows at her boldness to ask such a personal question, but she guesses it’s only fair as she brought it up to begin with.

“Um.. Not really. I’m actually quite ahead on my research for this quarter” Mia answers, and Miranda only hums in response.

“I catch myself staying over just to avoid going home to him sometimes. So no, No distractions. Just irritation I guess..”

Mia looks down at her hands in her lap and rubs her fingers together nervously.

She couldn’t understand why Miranda even cared. Or why she felt comfortable enough to tell her these things for that matter.

They had never been close. That was as expected.. but Mia also never caught the way the blonde looked at her either.

When Mia first came to work for the company, Miranda relished in the fact that she already knew everything about Mrs. Winters and her annoying husband, Ethan. That pest ruined years of her work and neither of them were the wiser. She played her cards right, calculated and precise as Miranda always was to bring Mia here.

What started off as an act for revenge turned into something much… different, for the goddess. She often caught herself staring at Mia from afar taking in her human beauty. It shocked Miranda, truly, to be so enamored at her stupid brown doe eyes and the softness of her face.

And her lips..

By the black god, her mouth was something Miranda could think about for hours…

She wanted to have the brunette all to herself.

Wanted to hurt Ethan by corrupting his sweet, lovely wife by putting that mouth to a better use.

“So.. uh. Thank you, again.. for lunch. I should probably head back to my office..” Mia said sheepishly, the silence getting to her.

Miranda stood from her chair and leaned over the desk, pushing Mia’s chin up with a slender finger.

Mia couldn’t help but gasp when their faces were so close together. And that’s when she realized the blondes eyes weren’t looking into her own.. but on her lips.

“Mira-..” a soft whisper was cut off by their lips touching.

Mia wanted to pull away.

She tried convincing herself this was all a dream. She fell asleep at her desk or something.

She was married.

But oh..how sweet did Miranda’s mouth taste when her tongue slipped between her lips.

Against better judgement Mia kissed her back, feeling those slender fingers snake into her hair as they gasped and fought for air.

This is wrong.. this is so very wrong!

Mia’s conscience screamed in her head, but she was too busy enjoying it to hear it.

Well, was enjoying it until Miranda pulled away, leaving her in a state of bliss and confusion in the chair.

“Miranda.. I..what was that?? I’m.. you’re my boss..” Mia stuttered, Making Miranda smirk as she towered over her.

“And married” Miranda teases, cocking her head to the side.

“Yet you seemed to enjoy it regardless, no?”

Mia sat dumbfounded, her mouth agape and lower lip quivering. The stress of everything else and now this…it was too much, and so she stood up and left.

She didn’t even excuse herself as she stomped back to her office, slamming the door shut in frustration.

***(back to now)***

Mia couldn’t go home to Ethan. At least not now despite working over again, so she decided to head to the nearest bar while she packed her things for the night.

A place where neither Ethan or Miranda would be, someplace she could mull over what to do next without outside forces choosing for her.

Luckily it wasn’t packed as she sat, drink in hand while watching some stupid game on the screen above.

A glass is placed on the space next to her, paying it no mind until a familar voice whispers in her ear.

“Fancy meeting you here, Mrs. Winters…”

[scumbagjaeger]

COLLEGE! PORCO HEADCANONS

starring: Porco Galliard

rating: sfw, 18+

notes: just some random ideas and headcanons I have for Porco, maybe something I'll work on more in the future! I'm a sucker for the enemies to lovers trope and I think there's a lot of potential with this one! Please enjoy, drop an ask for more!

I also wanted to dedicate this to @hangeslefteye for always being there and for getting me on the Porco bandwagon (: a true inspiration fighting for the cause (the cause being more Porco content hahah)

So before I get into these head canons (which predominately take place in a gym setting), here's some context

I'm a big fan of the Warriors being a soccer team? Maybe that's their college team! Meanwhile (y/n) is on a volleyball team, maybe just the intramural level team though because she's busy being a main character hahah :) my friends on the college team had no social lives but we're going to give (y/n) okay

But yeah definitely in one of those situations where the intramural volleyball games run late, which pisses off the Warriors who have practice immediately after? Cue Porco and (y/n) bickering a lot!

Okay so yeah they don't like each other

But just imagine that you're at the gym and you notice Porco there? With his beefy arms on full display

And you're kind of like "what?" y'know, giving him a look from across the room

You're just doing your thing, finishing up your reps on the machine and you look up again and Porco is walking towards you?

You roll your eyes at him when he's in close proximity and take your headphone out. "Can I help you?"

"It seems like you can help out the creep who's drooling over you across the floor," he scowls

You didn't even notice, but you glance behind Porco and see some random guy staring at you while he lifts weights

Porco just kind of just watches over you for the rest of your time at the gym? And it's nice? You don't want to strangle him for once?

He keeps an eye on the stranger, glaring at him whenever he gets up from his machines

But he also spots you while you're doing your chest press? And helps you set up for hip thrusts?

"You're doing your pull ups wrong, dummy. You should be angling your hips forward, not arching back," "Shut up, Porco, what do you know." "More than you, I'm minoring in kinesiology. Now here lemme--" and he waits for your nod before gently moving your hips forward.

It turns out he's finished his workout like thirty minutes ago but he's just hanging out with you now, pushing you to do one more rep and bickering to you about being able to do a heavier weight "What, you going easy today or something, (l/n)? You can add an extra 5 pounds, easy. I'll spot ya."

At one point he shows you how much he can bench because, yeah, he hates you, but he's a guy who will take any excuse to show off his muscles lmao we know this man is disciplined as hell in the gym

But when you lean over the bench to spot him, you notice the twinge of pink on his ears?

Unrelated but his hair from chapter 119? That's what his hair looks like while he's working out oh lord

Let's say you already did your cardio earlier? Too bad Porco is guiding you to the treadmills

Okay but let's say you suck at running and Porco gives you so much shit for it? You just hate treadmill-running though, and you don't really need to run much for volleyball anyway, just a couple laps to warm up

You're sweating and miserable and Porco offers to buy you a post-workout smoothie as a reward for running ten minutes lmao

"If you don't like treadmill-running, I take this one route through the town that ends near Liberio Park? My brother and I used to run that when he went here" (Marcel is a doctor and alive in this AU)

And you kind of look at him like * "I don't really like to run alone either?"

"What? Why not?"

"It's not really safe?"

And he gets kind of quiet and mutters to you, "Well, I usually go in the mornings, if you wanted to come with?"

And you just look at him, incredulous. And he looks away and sips his smoothie "--only if you want to, I guess."

And so you agree to meet him outside of campus the next day and you start your run together! He definitely has way more endurance than you as a soccer player though oops

It's so obvious that he could be going way faster but he jogs to keep up with you, and stops to walk with you when you need a break

You catch him smiling at you when you stop to admire some of the flowers that are blooming outside of the park. "What?"

"Your face is all red and sweaty," this man has W rizz

Turns out there's also a wellness-type cafe near the park so you both get post-workout smoothies again and walk back towards campus

Thanks for reading! I'd love to hear your thoughts on this or if you'd like more! My dream would be to start a college series with the main boys, maybe even developing fics for each of them!! If this is something you're interested in, please let me know! Leave an ask for any ideas or requests for Porco or the others!

[asimperingswannsong]

A Spouse for a Ser?

Ser Brienne of Tarth/Lady Lyla Mooten (OFC)

Summary/Notes/Warnings: @holymymolly and Part 5. I tried to make up to sweet innocent Brienne for kicking her around a bit in the last one and, wow, did it turn sappy quick. Fluff, a dab of smut, some canon typical violence, and hurt/this time with comfort.

—————-

Brienne lay bleeding face down in the mud as she tried to untie the knots of the ropes binding her feet together while she watched the remaining thieves from the corner of her least swollen eye. She moved slowly to avoid their notice.

She needn't have bothered to be careful as her captors were fully engrossed in drinking, bragging, and planning. They'd hatched a half-assed plan to ransom Brienne's return for a large sum but were trying to iron out how they could take the money while still killing her.

They'd settled on hiring an assassin to shoot her from afar after the exchange. They figured for a fourth of the ransom they could easily find someone to make the shot. Satisfied with their master plan they eventually fell into a drunken slumber around the fire.

Newly freed from her bonds, Brienne seized the opportunity, rising and grabbing a large rock, as she slowly made her way down the hill toward the men.

The ogre who'd beaten her earlier was sleeping with one hand on Oathkeeper. She approached him quietly, but just as she reached out and touched her blade, he opened his eyes and lunged with a knife. He stabbed her in the thigh, and she screamed in pain alerting the other two vandals.

Their comrade stood with Brienne's sword and attempted to run her through. She dodged the near fatal thrust and swung the rock landing a hard blow on his temple. He dropped the sword, and she bludgeoned him a second time in the back of his head with the rock. He fell to the ground lifeless.

She looked up to see his friends closing in. She grabbed her sword and waited. The one on the right made the first move, swiping crosswise at her torso. She was able to lunge back just enough to avoid contact before reaching out, grabbing him by the shoulder, and pulling him in. She caught his foot with hers and he face planted hitting a boulder and falling unconscious. She made short work of the third, disarming him easily and threatening him at sword point until he relented.

She felt her strength draining from her as she hoisted the bound and gagged pair of idiots onto one of their horses to begin the return to King's Landing. Brienne felt the effects of her injuries more and more as they journeyed back. She'd attempted to bandage her leg wound as well as possible, but the day's riding caused it to reopen again and again causing her to have to stop several times to try and staunch the bleeding.

She had very little provisions, no bedding, and she was unable to snare any game the first night they stopped. She lay uncovered on the cold ground and felt shooting pains in her ribs and her injured leg. "You're gonna doom us all to death if you keep trying to take us back you stupid bitch. That leg's already infected. Even if you survive, you'll lose it."

One of her prisoners had worked his gag free and was taunting her from the tree she'd tied them to for the evening. "Shut up and sleep!" she shouted at him, but he continued to sneer and bitch at her. Finally, she'd had enough, and she used a nearby boulder to push herself up to avoid placing weight on her leg.

She hobbled over and unceremoniously smacked him across the face with the back of her hand knocking him unconscious. She glared at his companion who had not managed to remove his gag. He shook his head, so she turned and made her way back to the spot of ground she'd chosen for a bed.

The next morning, she struggled getting them onto the horse, dropping the loudmouth in the dirt accidentally. As they finally set off with him haranguing her loudly, Brienne felt dehydrated, and her head was pounding as the sun grew hotter overhead. She became dizzy and worried that fever had set in.

She swayed side to side in the saddle and her vision blurred. "We're gonna die out here in the sun when you drop!" "So be it!" she snapped at him. Eventually, they did arrive at King's Landing though, and Brienne felt almost delirious as she rode through town and straight into the throne room with the murderers in tow.

She dismounted and tried to give her report to King Bran, but she collapsed as she tried to approach. Her guardsmen went to fetch the maester. Lyla entered from a side door and ran to Brienne, dropping to her knees and gathering her wife's head into her lap.

"Help her please," she pleaded. "The maester is on his way my lady." Lyla carded her fingers through Brienne's hair and placed a kiss on her forehead. Brienne opened her eyes and smiled up at her. "Hello, beautiful," she croaked out. "Hi," she said smiling as tears dropped from her face dotting Brienne's cheeks. She bent further down and placed a kiss on her dehydrated, cracked, and split lips as Brienne drifted back into unconsciousness.

Lyla followed along behind as Brienne was taken for treatment. She watched anxiously as poultices were applied to her wounds and her broken bones were wrapped. The maester informed her the leg wound was infected and they propped her up forcing her to drink an herbal tea meant to break her fever.

After much pleading, Lyla managed to have Brienne moved to their rooms. She sat beside her on their bed and bathed her as well as she could using a basin and cloth. She hummed and sang soothingly to her as she cleaned the sweat and grime from her hair and body. She dropped the straps of her dress and let the top fall into her lap, gathering Brienne to her and pressing her close against her breast.

She hoped the sounds and smells of her and of their home would comfort Brienne as she struggled with the fever. The wounds on her face were painfully swollen, with one eye barely visible. Each morning, she had her handmaiden retrieve new bandages, poultices, and tea for Lyla to administer. She continued washing her and singing to her.

She made a broth and attempted to feed her. Eventually, she noticed the swelling around her wounds begin to subside. As she slept next to her one night, she woke to the sound of Brienne moaning in her sleep. She lit the lantern next to their bed and saw that she lay drenched in sweat. The bedding around her was soaked.

Lyla got up and retrieved the wash basin and cloth. She returned, sat Brienne up, removed her shirt and washed her off, before pulling her to her side of the bed to keep her out of the damp. Her skin felt noticeably cooler to the touch and Lyla hoped it was a good sign. In the morning she would have their handmaiden help her remove Brienne from the bed so she could change their sheets.

She put a fresh shirt on her wife and lay down next to her draping her arm gently over a bruise free section of her torso. When Lyla awoke in the morning, she found herself looking into a pair of deep sapphire blue pools. She smiled at Brienne, "Hi." "Hi," Brienne returned in a sleep heavy raspy voice.

Lyla gently traced a path along Brienne's hairline and down around her injured eye with her fingertip. She continued down her bruised cheekbone to the split lip below. When Brienne didn't flinch from the contact, Lyla leaned forward and placed a kiss on her battered lips. "I've missed you so much," she said pulling back. Brienne followed after for a second kiss. "I've missed you too my beautiful lady. I love you."

Lyla kissed her again and then began working her way down peppering the least bruised places on Brienne's body with a multitude of kisses. Brienne hummed happily and placed a hand gently on the back of Lyla's head as she continued her ministrations. "I'm so happy to have you home again, to have you in our bed again. I've been so worried for you," she said with a brief pause between each word to drop a kiss to a new area.

"I'm sorry to have worried you, my lady." "It doesn't matter now, ser knight. You're here with me, and that's all I need." Lyla had been so busy being relieved by Brienne's recovery that she failed to anticipate how the next few days would play out with a bed ridden, still very much injured, but impatient and grumpy knight.

"Please. Just a little walk down to the water?" "Darling, I'm so happy you're doing better, but that leg of yours is still injured." "Nonsense. I'm fine. Please?" "Fine? No, ser knight, you are not fine." "But it's been weeks," Brienne huffed. "Weeks, it's only been a few days sweetheart."

They made their way down the hillside at a glacial pace with Lyla clinging protectively to one of Brienne's arms and checking in with her every few seconds. "Are you alright my love?" "Of course, I'm fine my lady." Lyla could tell from the way she'd flinch from time to time that Brienne was not being completely truthful, but she was far too head strong to admit defeat.

They made it to the water's edge eventually where they sat in the grass and watched the waves for a while. They stood after awhile and a fair amount of struggle, and Lyla thought Brienne would be ready to return home but instead she started down the coast. Lyla followed along worriedly.

They came to a rocky alcove and Brienne moved to go inside the mouth of a large cave opening. "Darling, I don't think that's a good idea." "Trust me sweetheart. Just a little while." They walked along a ledge with a dark seam running next to them. Lyla could hear running water beneath.

Lyla was beginning to think Brienne was having a delusional episode or something but then they came to a large opening in the cave with light pouring in from above. There was water running down from one side of the rocks forming a large pool of cerulean blue water.

It was a natural grotto. Brienne was attempting to tug her shirt off over her head. "Sweetheart, are you sure that's a good idea? Is the water good for your injuries?" "The leg wound is completely closed over, and the water here is fresh not salt water. It's fed from that spring over there and it's perfectly cool," Brienne said as Lyla helped her remove the shirt.

Lyla was shocked at first by the cold of the pool, but her body quickly adjusted as she reached out to help Brienne down into the water. They waded nude out into the deeper water submerging themselves up past to the tops of their arms. Brienne reached out and pulled her into her. Lyla resisted slightly worried that she'd grab the wrong spot and hurt her wife.

"I'm okay my love. Let me hold you." Lyla wrapped both arms around Brienne's neck and pressed her body close against her. Brienne smiled down at her and drew her into a kiss. It lingered and turned into two then three. They stood and enjoyed exploring each other.

Brienne leaned back and began to float in the water pulling Lyla off her feet as well. She pulled her back in and attacked her neck with open mouthed kisses causing Lyla to giggle and kiss Brienne's shoulder.

Brienne pulled her up her body and surprised her by drawing her breast into her mouth. Lyla started to press her hips down into Brienne's lap before she stopped herself remembering the leg wound. Brienne turned her in her arms and pulled her in with her back pressed to her torso. She whispered in her ear, "It's alright my lady."

She grasped Lyla's breast kneading it and pinching her nipple lightly as she kissed her neck and shoulders. She ran her other hand down Lyla's stomach to the top of her mound. Lyla reached back and grabbed Brienne by her uninjured hip pushing herself closer against her as she felt Brienne's fingers dip down parting her folds.

She moaned as her wife circled her clit gently and continued to massage her breast. "I've missed you," she whispered with her lips pressed to Lyla's ear as she drew her fingers down lower and pressed one inside her. Lyla rolled her hips and opened her legs wider as they floated pressed against each other.

Brienne curled her finger inside her core stroking gently against her inner walls. "More, please," she moaned. Brienne added a second finger and pressed deeper working faster inside her. She wrapped her other hand around Lyla’s belly as she bucked her hips rhythmically and dropped her head back resting on Brienne's shoulder.

She was breathing faster, and moaning lost in the sensation of being reunited with her wife. It felt incredible. "Please sweetheart," Lyla wasn't even sure what she wanted she just wanted more of Brienne. Brienne added a third finger and she moaned loudly at how good the stretch felt. "Are you close my love?" "Uh huh," she mewled. Brienne dropped her other hand down and began teasing her clit as she fucked her faster.

Lyla gripped tighter to Brienne's hip and stopped moaning as her mouth fell open and her breath caught in her throat. She pressed her breasts up and out of the water. Brienne admired how the cold water caused her nipples to tighten into hard buds. Lyla felt herself fall over the edge and she trembled in Brienne's grasp as she came before collapsing back down in the water against her.

Brienne kissed her gently as she withdrew her fingers from her core and cradled her against her allowing Lyla to come down from her peak. They floated languidly in each other's embrace.

The return trip to their rooms was far more arduous but part way up Lyla flagged down a merchant and managed to catch a ride on the back of his cart back up to the top of the hill. Brienne was exhausted when Lyla placed her back in bed, but she was far more open to taking orders from her when she insisted Brienne get some rest.

[darkx-the-dragon-kn1ght]

Chapter 40- Part 6

There we go! Still mad at myself for not getting this earlier, but no going back in time now.

Oh I most certainly will- very soon, in fact!

Also interesting items.

But since we're over here- might as well head back to the Spinel Town Museum and pick up Omanyte.

Nautilus, because it's a cool-sounding name and Omanyte looks kinda like one anyways (not to mention its Japanese name could be half derived from nautilus).

And here's the PokéDex entry, for those curious:

Now, to remedy my mistake from a few chapters ago, me forgetting how Fossil revival works in most games.

The Root Fossil is indeed next, so let's give him that one, then leave the room to really see if this works like it does in other games. I need to buy some Berry Ice Cream anyways, so this works out just fine.

And having completed that…

Oh no it is actually in real time, oh this is the worst, why would the game do this to me, why-

Alright, so much for the Fossils- guess it's time to start theorizing for Noel. 

(And I did this after going to sleep for the night.)

Alright, so in order to try and deduce what Noel could use, I need to actually read the Read-Out for Grassy Terrain, which I didn't do when I first got it.

Let's see…it does the things it does in canon, restoring a little HP each turn and boosting Grass-type moves, okay. And it…boosts Fire-type moves too? And it's not even like just any Fire move turns it into Burning Field, just the spread ones like Lava Plume. Sludge Wave specifically can also turn the terrain into Corrosive Field, which is neat I guess, but given Corrosive Field’s effects, it seems like more trouble than it's worth. But yeah- compared to other Fields Effects, this one seems pretty straightforward.

Consequently, this makes the potential pool of Pokémon Noel could use rather limited, at least in terms of how I've been going about theorycrafting. For example: the only Ability that gets affected by Grassy Terrain is Grass Pelt, and the only Pokémon that can have that Ability are Skiddo and Gogoat, neither of which are Normal-types. So it's really just the handful of relevant moves I need to look at- stuff like Coil, Fairy Wind, Grass Whistle, etc. Additionally, we already know Noel's gonna have a Clefable, so it's really just the other five I need to predict.

Based on the moves alone, the options are: 

Blissey (can learn Fairy Wind)

Furret

Dunsparce (can both learn Coil)

Sawsbuck (can learn Grass Whistle)

But as for other Normal-types that could be appropriate, well…

Alolan Raticate- counter to Ghost-types.

Wigglytuff- seems thematically fitting alongside Clefable, and it actually is still part Normal-type, unlike Clefable.

Kangaskhan- theming with like…y’know, Noel being an orphan…Kangaskhan being a parental Pokémon…there's something to that, you understand.

Kecleon- to finally take advantage of all the Camouflage mentions I've seen in these Read-Outs! Camouflage changes the user's type to something specific on each Field, but we've never seen it before because very few Pokémon can take advantage of that move!

Pyroar- to take advantage of Grassy Terrain also boosting Fire moves, and maybe counter any Grass-types I try to use.

Bewear- to counter any Rock- or Steel-types I use, also for the child's toy theming (at least with regards to Stufful).

Slim pickings indeed. But even so, it's just enough for me to decide upon a select few who seem most likeliest to appear on his team alongside Clefable. Those being:

Furret

Sawsbuck

Kangaskhan

Kecleon

Blissey

Pyroar

Bewear

The common thread between everyone except for Clefable is a Fighting weakness, so I definitely need at least one Fighting-type on the team. Being able to take advantage of the Grass and Fire boosts would also be good, and having a Ghost-type…would that work…? Normal-types are immune to Ghost-type attacks too, so the damage output might not be the best…unless…

Okay, I think I've got it. Riptide is a given, of course. Glare is coming too because a lot of the powerful Normal attacks are physical, so Intimidate would be very helpful. Bloom is also coming along, because Grassy Terrain gives a boost to Growth, so that coupled with the general Grass attack boost can be very powerful. I'm also bringing Wulfrum for the quad resistance to Normal and as a potential counter to Clefable. 

Then, there's Vulcan- not only my designated Fighting-type, but he can also take advantage of the Fire attack boost. Plus, if Clefable does any Minimize shenanigans, Heat Crash can put a stop to that, and being part Fire-type means he's not weak to any Fairy-type attacks. Finally, I've found a way to utilize a Ghost-type here in an efficient way: Jack the Pumpkaboo! An immunity to Normal attacks alongside the ability to take advantage of the Grass boost, like Bloom, thus helping his damage output!

So the Noel team is looking like:

With Wulfrum being given the Zoom Lens and Vulcan holding a Charcoal. Now I just need to get everyone up to Lv. 55, evolve Jack with that Link Stone I just picked up, it'll be great.

(Several battles later…)

And now, the final team is looking like:

With Jack now holding an Elemental Seed (which boosts Defense and applies Ingrain on Grassy Terrain). And with that…I think we're ready! I'll lead with Bloom to start with Growth and see how far that goes, and…yeah!

Also it's snowing now, that's nice, further remind me of how cold the weather IRL is getting why not-

Huh-? No “Ready” or “Not Ready” options? Was that just a Serra thing? Did it get removed in the recent update and/or patch…? I mean I am ready but still, weird.

Previous

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[dullahandyke]

final part of trial 4 liveblog ^_^ finished it tonight yay. ill probs start on case 5 tomorrow but i wont finish it before going back to college 4 the week

ok took another break now we're back! not that it makes a difference to you cunts lol

i do enjoy how the text scrawl sfx are basically the same as ever. so cahrming

also enjoying the polyphony of the music again... mfw melodies

i can also vividly imagine patricia beat's instagram and it's horrific. homemeade meals for her hubby and god bless our boys in blye

ok new theory, stabing did happen on garrideb side of the road, green picked up a brning book and the knife fell on her

NOT PAT PULLING THE MISOGYNY CARD

'there's no one straighter than my husband' that wasn't being disputed, patsy

... the judge says 'good golly'? surely it's 'goodness gracious', golly is So fuckin american

i keep waiting for roly to have a breakdown sprite and he never does. cross between dissatisfying and novel

ah there he goes

WE'RE LETTING ROLY GET AWAY WITH THIS???? nah fuck that i hate cops and i hate romance and i hate cops x2

god i wish we weren't dealing w joan garrideb. the fat jokes r lethal. bring back plum kitaki if u needed a fat lady capable of murder. i miss the kitakis

can we get john a chair or something???

i understand why, but the lack of period-typical misogyny is v glaring. i feel ike something could have been done w joan's husband taking the stand with her + having him be seen as the reliable man. wouldn't have said anything but they made patsy play the misogyny card earlier in a way u were supposed to think ridiculous when this is what, mary poppins time? sufragette movement hasn't resolved (or maybe even started) idk mary poppins is my sole reference for british history

hate to agree w bvz but 'hell on earth' is right

the mythical invention of fingerprints... fingerprints are the fingerpints of the fingers <3

... is the ass of garrideb's housecoat burned off???? srsly can we get him a chair

olive green is a lesser known waifu she's cute

not garrideb calling his wife old bean :sob:

omg natsume hi it's been a minute

if u gave natsume a tumblr i think he'd thrive. one third mediaposting one third 'guys i'm scared' one third public breakdown and one thrid poetry. he's so good at tumblring that he unlocks another third

amazed by the fact that we've not had any multi-day trials yet. i see what ppl say abt the pacing

SHOLMES!!!

don't guilt natsume for running, sholmes, cant u see hes the most ancious man in thr world?

YES SUSATO PROTECT HIM... no cops at pride just susato and her tosses

wait hold on i just remembered that shamspeare showed up this case. why tf did shamspeare show up

'what it lacks in windows, it more than makes up for with a floor, a ceiling, AND walls' natsume...

wait the evil spirit that suffocates him in his sleep is the cat innit

finished this case on its canon date! pog

sholmes without the coat... he's practically shirtless

IRIIIIIIIS HI AGAIN!!!! :3

loved it when ryuu said 'cant wait to see what The Great Ace Attorney Adventures are awaiting us;

if sholmes were a butch lesbian i would be bewitched body and soul

listening to the music section n the alternative mesage displays r rlly cool. the unused themes also . susatos unused theme fucks

also i feel the need to point out that the ace attorney sfx head is named 'sando'. ace attorney name

istg asougi's va is familiar... future me go look it up

^ ETA HES FUCKING NOZAKI ? FROM HIT ANIME GEKKOU SHOUJO NOZAKI KUN? my god. autism handshake between nozaki and asougi

now i'm in the gallery... sholmes's crest represents him (gear) protecting iris (flower)? wahhhhhhh

the way nuri describes asougi's hachimaki like 'the winds of change are sure to be blowing whereever he is' compared to how foggy and unmoving the london air is... game 2 moment

[inkydiamonds]

I was going to put this all in the tags but. Sighs. I reached the tag limit so I'm going to retype it all here! Basically, I have a few more popular headcanons to add on to this list, some clarifications of where things originated, and some more elaborations

I may have made some mistakes in some places, this is just my recollection.

Bdubs:

Dragon hybrid- originated from the dragon bros late s6 during Demise

Glare hybrid- a failed mob from a mob vote, and it looks basically exactly like bdubs's mossy cloak skin

Doc:

Goat hybrid- stemmed from the acronym of G.O.A.T. and then his obsession with goats when they got added to Minecraft. It eventually got added to his skin from all of the fanart

Butterfly hybrid- I Believe it came from a conversation with doccy where he made doc make-believe as a butterfly. I think doc may have also requested fanart of him with butterfly wings or maybe just encouraged it in general

Etho:

Arctic fox hybrid- his villager farm in s7 was in a tundra biome and he found and adopted an artic fox as his pet. Also people liked how it matched his white hair lmao

Enderian/enderman hybrid- started I believe mostly due to his cryptid vibes and also his love for ender pearls! Additionally, there's a fucking amazing clip from s7 which I believe may have played a role in popularizing it from when he met Grian for the first time. The two of them are very weird about it and Etho ends up teleporting accidentally behind Grian, which from Grian's perspective just looks like Etho vanishes into thin air then magically appears behind him without even throwing an ender pearl. It scares the crap out of him it's fantastic

False:

Dragon hybrid- started due to dragon bros in late s6 during Demise

Gem:

Elf/nature spirit- what her character canonically is, the deer hybrid stuff was all extrapolated from her antlers (which is fair)

Scar:

Elf hybrid- he's canonically an elf early s9

Grian:

Specifics on the bird hybrid headcanons!

Chicken- started due to poultry man in s6, as well as his obsession with filling places with chickens

Parrot- a lot of people say that this headcanon started in s7 with his adoption of Professor Beak as well as his catch phrase of calling himself "pesky bird", but it actually started earlier to my recollection! (Mostly because I remember a really well known piece of fanart of him with parrot wings from before s7). I believe it may have originated from the general avian headcanons mixed with his creation of a room late s6 in the Architechs' Sahara filled with parrots and a jukebox, which he would dance in with the parrots until Iskall and Mumbo found the room

I can confirm the haunted doll one for Grian is because of his skin, but it's also due to his mannerisms! He had a tendency (starting probably in s7 I'd say? He was a bit more shy s6 but it's possible it started then) to hop around and creepily stare at people streaming without saying anything in chat or joining a vc before proximity chat. In s8 (technically late s7) when prox chat was added, he would often purposefully mute so he could continue doing this

Fish hybrid- mostly shows up as specifically a cod hybrid, because his head looks like a dropped cod head! This was popularized due to Cleo mentioning it and Grian talking about it early s7 during Head Game, but was mentioned as early as early s6 due to Grian's Head Hunt minigame where a player (I believe it was iskall?) turned in cod heads instead of Grian heads hoping Grian wouldn't notice. However! He's also been headcanoned as a salmon hybrid, due to being the Salmon Ghost from late s6.

Dragon hybrid- originated from the dragon bros in late s6 during Demise, got a surge of popularity in s8 due to Tegg

Eldritch rock- due to The Entity from early s9. It was canonically taking pieces of the world around it. One day, it suddenly had flesh. The headcanon was maybe it took some of Grian and gave some of itself back (tbh we need to talk about the Entity again it's SOOOO horrifying)

Hypno:

I believe part of the spread of the eldritch/fae headcanons was due to the lovely fic Fixed and Dilated! I believe you're correct that the origin comes mostly from his name/HHF

Impulse:

Dwarf hybrid- he's canonically a dwarf in s9

Iskall:

Dragon hybrid- originated from dragon bros in late s6 during Demise

Joe:

Ghost- due to Beetlejhoest which is a thing which Occurs on his streams

Mumbo:

Mumbo being a vampire originates before s7 I do believe. Someone in the notes said it may have originated from when he was oversaturated after s6 Demise and Iskall said he looked like a vampire, but I think it's possible that it originated earlier? I remember a genre of drawings of Mumbo covered in red with an "it's just redstone guys dw" type caption. I think it's a lot because he's hced as tall and lanky, and his skin looks pale and gaunt

Dragon hybrid- originated with the dragon bros late s6 during Demise

Pearl:

I think the Pearl watcher stuff just comes from the fact that she's from Evo

Also the moth-moon association comes partially from her being hced as a luna moth, then just a moth in general

Beef:

....Meat?? Idk just in general meat-like body horror- Obviously due to the name and the butcher skin, but also because of the absolutely terrifying sequence of events from s7 during the start of the Hels clone saga where he fails at making a clone of himself and instead creates a skinless meat version of himself (ft. what is apparently an early skin of his) and also an unsettling other version of himself where the only visible difference is that he had green eyes instead of blue. The fandom then decided this other version of him was completely hollow. (Honestly once again. We do not talk about this enough IT'S SO HORRIFYING LIKE WTF)

Alien- was slowly turning into some kind of alien creature in s8

Zedaph:

Death Itself/grim reaper- due to Zedeath from s6

Cleo:

Medusa/gorgon- she is canonically has snake hair starting s9

Also she was a human at one point (or maybe at multiple points in time? The one I remember is Demise), and also an angel at some point.

Bonus ones I've seen but don't know the origins of:

-Dragon or wither Impulse

-Dragonfly Joe

-Fae or angel or dragon Wels

Also witch Stress and and cyborg Iskall and Doc which I don't consider to really be hybrids imo

been compiling a "where did that non-human hermit headcanon come from?" list because some are... oddly obscure and hard to figure out. feel free to send me more popular headcanons ive missed.

bdubs

plant hybrid: the entire nho jungle vines situation, current moss hoodie skin

cub

vex/vex hybrid: both members of the convex implied/stated to be vex/have vex magic

evoker: one or two bits of convex dialog imply cub has vex magic but scar is the actual vex; thus evoker cub

alien: science & space, age/shape shifter, has said 'greetings people of earth' at least once

bear hybrid: name is cub

doc

creeper hybrid: literally just his actual skin

etho

clone: non-hermit videos (crash landing series has a cloning machine? + episode 404 of lp features multiple etho clones)

ambiguous eldritch being: joked to look scary under the mask, non-red eye said to be scary to stare into

false

avian: ??? eagle build in s8 + birdcage-esque build in s7 nether??

gem

centaur/deer hybrid: literally just her actual skin

scar

vex/vex hybrid: both members of the convex implied/stated to be vex/have vex magic

cat hybrid: cat loving mischevious man, sewer cats s7???

wizard: canonically a wizard in s7

fae: mischevious sweet-talker who seems to be able to charm his way out of situations way too often

grian

avian: excelent flyer, pesky bird running joke, scar calls him 'feathered friend' once

watcher: canonically becomes a watcher at the end of evo smp

haunted doll: ?? empty beady eyed skin??

fae: similar to avian but with extra mischevious energy

hypno

pokemon hypno hybrid: name, used a hypno skin at some point

ambigious eldritch being: name...???? sinister energy of horse head farms??

jevin

slime: literally just his actual skin

TROPICAL slime: is a blue slime type in minecraft dungeons & he is blue (usually)

impulse

demon: was summoned into hermitcraft with a vague summoning circle. also... IMP-ulse.

iskall

somehow i have never seen a non-human iskall. very surprising.

joe

ambigious eldritch being: whatever the 'joe hills difference' is. also probably just his odd vibes.

herobrine: above + steve based skin

keralis

ambigious eldritch being: general odd vibes. seemed to exist in both space + hermitcraft server in s8.

mumbo

shapeshifter: whatever the hell was going on with him in s8

vampire: skin? scar asked if he was a vampire once in s7.

robot: redstoner. took a long time to figure out organic builds. s7 halloween skin.

pearl

watcher: ???grian sibling energy???

moon spirit: pearlescent MOON. is called a moon a few times in s8.

moth hybrid: makes good wings for moon themeing...?

llama hybrid: lots of llama themeing in s8. padllama co.

ren

dog hybrid: literally just his actual skin.

werewolf: alternative for dog hybrid. allows more fic angst.

stress

fairy: cute naturey builds? ice queen/ice magic in s6.

tango

robot: redstoner...? red eyes. "tango of the tek/tech variety"

demon: red eyes?

blaze hybrid: red eyes? + yellow & red color scheme?

ghast: red eyes + loud & explosive personality?

tfc

dwarf: underground mining maniac

herobrine: steve based skin

beef

cow hybrid: vintage BEEF.

wels

also somehow never seen a non-human wels.

xb

guardian hybrid: guardian temple base in s3 + guardians in base in s7. says hes fond of them in s7.

xisuma

robot: full doomguy suit skin?

"void walker"/any kind of end being: xisuma VOID. doc calls him a gentlevoid at some point.

shapeshifter: seasonal skin changes

zedaph

sheep hybrid: is that sheep looking at me gameshow + sheep wall experiment ?

void/end hybrids: purple eyes

bat hybrid: skin's face looks like a minecraft bat + likes cave builds

cleo

zombie: literally just her actual skin.

[camuslittlesister]

From the OA Archives: A Very IkeSen Christmas

I can’t remember the exact prompt so I can’t tell if it was explicitly yume or I just thought it was hilarious to have the IkeSen meets Outlander vibe (I know they’re different centuries, my ancestors were there. If past lives are a thing I probably was there myself in a previous incarnation ☠️).

It’s safe for work. Mostly me teasing mummy Hideyoshi (I said what I said). Also, Saori is the name of the canon MC because I needed an excuse for…you’ll see 👀

It was my first Christmas in the Sengoku period. There were some Jesuit missionaries hidden somewhere in Japan, but having Nobunaga track one down for Midnight Mass was asking too much.

Everyone was already going out of their way to make it less hard for me to be not just 500 years into the past, but 500 years into the past of a country not my own. Not that being Roman Catholic in Elizabethan England would have been easier, but at least I’d have got some resemblance of my 21st century normality, with a banquet of roast game and a swishy velvet gown with fitted sleeves.

At least I was getting a Christmas tree. In fact, Nobunaga himself was overseeing the cutting of the tree for the hall. It all started a few days earlier, when Hideyoshi dropped by my room unannounced. I dried my tears and let him in, but couldn’t do much about hiding it, not to Azuchi’s mother hen at any rate.

Japan didn’t have the Gregorian calendar at the time, but the organiser in my bag reminded me it would have been the 3rd Sunday of Advent and I missed the unfunny memes about wearing pink on Gaudete Sunday that my friends would have shared on Twitter and I would have hated if I was there to see them.

The familiarity, even of something I found trite, made me feel really lonely, even if I was surrounded by people who welcomed me as one of their own (at least once they realised I wasn’t an assassin or a spy).

I confided in Hideyoshi, who stroke my head affectionately to try and soothe me, before declaring that Azuchi would have its first ever Christmas.

Not long after, Mitsunari knocked on my door, carrying paper and ink, ready to take notes about Christmas traditions. And that’s how we got to hanging things off a tree on the dais in the hall. We also handmade Christmas cards that Mitsuhide took to Kasugayama Castle, where Saori was now living with her Sengoku boyfriend, and Masamune was hard at work trying to replicate, as closely as possible, the panettone recipe handed down my family for generations.

Nobunaga looked on mildly amused as I directed his retainers with the strict professionalism of a decorator at Buckingham Palace and sung my favourite carols. What was left to do before Christmas Eve itself was buying presents. It has never been my favourite activity, but I wanted to show my appreciation to my new samurai family.

I had books ordered in town for Mitsunari and Ieyasu, sweets for Nobunaga that cost me more than the other presents put together (not surprising, coming from the poshest confectionery in the capital without Prime), a handmade book of recipes for Masamune, a fine scarf for Hideyoshi (because he’s always too busy worrying about everyone else to care about himself) and...also a scarf for Mitsuhide, because that’s one thing you buy when you don’t know what to buy to a man, and nobody uses ties.

I was getting ready for the Christmas Eve banquet when Ieyasu appeared outside my door, a frown on his face (not unusual, but it was a different kind of frown): “Give me your presents”. I knew better than to argue, and let him in to get the load, following him out.

His pet fawn Wasabi stood tethered to a cart already filled with packages, makeshift antlers on her head. I was surprised to see Ieyasu doing something he was adamant was “too ridiculous” just to “please some woman”.

“Rudolph the red-nosed reindeer...” I began singing on our way to the banquet, Ieyasu glaring at me. “All of the other reindeers...” two voices came from behind us. We both turned around full of disbelief: Mitsuhide was back, grinning like the Cheshire Cat. “Sasuke! Saori!” I threw myself in their arms for a group hug.

“We come bearing presents, but I’ve got the biggest of them all seeing that smile” there was only one man who’d come out with such cheesy lines and somehow make them sound appealing, and I realised they weren’t alone.

Yukimura rolled his eyes at Shingen’s greetings, Kenshin looked like he really didn’t want to be there, and Yoshimoto was just captivated by the festive atmosphere. “It’s like seeing the Christmas truce of 1914” I commented to Sasuke.

“We can play football in the morning” he laughed, our banter interrupted by Hideyoshi coming out of the hall to tell Ieyasu and me off for being outdoors so long.

He was both more, and less, angry when he saw that Saori was there, and we made our way inside. Masamune had cooked enough to feed the unexpected guests and, even though it was a new place with different people, it truly felt like a family Christmas, and I even managed to get a kiss under the mistletoe for the very first time.

Thank you for reading. Merry Christmas if you celebrate 🎄