#go check the tags on ao3 tbh

[necrotic-nephilim]

Tim's unternet suit really is the most glaringly obvious hero worship/crush for Dick thing he ever has. in the unternet, where Tim's subconscious creates what he is. that's the suit his brain comes up with? something so clearly derivative of Nightwing? down to the *finger stripes*?

red robin #19

this is gay as hell. the reason Tim can't wear this soul irl is bc the first thing he would do is jerk off in it. and he couldn't handle the embarrassment of Dick seeing how similar it is. if DC ever made this Tim's official suit the first thing they would have to do is make Tim and Dick fuck in it. i'm so close to writing that fic i won't lie.

[waywardsalt]

rough rough draft of chapter 1 of the bellum x linebeck fic

Though the storm had passed and the sun finally shown upon the sea again, Linebeck felt gloomy. He leaned against his ship’s rope railings and stared at the horizon. The night before, the pounding of the rain had put him at ease. Now, the bright afternoon had brought back that familiar anxiety. After some thinking, Linebeck pushed himself away from the railing and resolved to begin his morning chores.

                As the only person on his ship, it was up to Linebeck to take care of it- and he wouldn’t have wanted it any other way. He knew his beloved steamship like the back of his hand, and he collected a bucket as he blinked the last of the sleep from his eyes. Firstly, he gathered seawater to dump into the engine’s storage tank. The ship was drifting at the moment, but once Linebeck would turn it on, the heat would build up in the engine and the water would boil and evaporate and build up steam to get the wheels moving.

Linebeck knelt at the lowest edge of the deck and dunked the bucket into the water for the ninth- tenth? - time. He’d have to do some extra engine maintenance before he got moving. He’d been traveling during the entire storm, likely pushing the engine to its limits. But after the water gathering, Linebeck checked the hull for barnacles and scratches, checked the railings for damaged rope, checked his food and water supplies, barely giving himself a moment of rest while he went through the familiar motions.

Since he began sailing, Linebeck’s life had been altogether monotonous and unpredictable. His ship was one he had designed himself, and knew better than anyone else how to take care of and operate it. He had no desire to take on a crew, and knew from experience that they’d only hold him back- trying to teach new people how to work his ship was incredibly tedious and often led to them making mistakes and doing more harm than good. The last bastard he’d temporarily hired and bothered to teach about his ship- Linebeck scowled and shook his head. Not even worth thinking about, now.

The storm had replenished his fresh water supply. It had been bad enough to obscure visibility across the sea, so Linebeck had done some fishing. If he cared for gods, he would have thanked one that he made it through without getting sick.

He didn’t need a crew. Linebeck hadn’t had a long-term crew member for what- seven years now? They just made him feel uneasy and he could never muster up the patience to put up with them.

Or maybe he kept finding the wrong people. That had certainly happened before. He was never particularly good with other people. Linebeck was almost certain that he’d made a good few new enemies just in the last month. His eyes scanned the horizon as he walked back out onto the deck. Linebeck tightened his grip on his mop’s handle. He was totally alone. And yet his skin prickled with unease.

“…No point worrying,” he mumbled to himself. He started mopping the deck, forcing himself to keep his eyes trained on the wood. His last chore of the morning was always the most soothing. He moved slowly and rhythmically, beginning at the prow and slowly making his way back to the cabin. His ship was small, though large enough to be comfortable for him. The deck sloped upwards a few feet from the cabin and plateaued, about a foot higher and better to accommodate the rooms and machinery beneath.

The air was warm and humid; Linebeck brushed his hair out of his face and behind his shoulders. He considered removing his coat, but he was nearly done mopping- no point in wasting the time. The heat was never a big issue for him. He was perfectly suited to the sea, and Linebeck felt more than confidant handling every aspect of this life on his own. No problems whatsoever. No good reason for the anxiety that refused to leave his mind.

Maybe there was a good reason, the same reason why he kept scanning the horizon.

Finished mopping the deck, Linebeck turned to admire it. The storm had cleaned it well enough, but now that the sky was clear he wasn’t just going to cut out part of his morning routine.

With everything done for the morning, Linebeck gathered up his mop and the bucket and moved to put them away. The bucket would be dumped out and left with other containers in the storage room, the mop left in the engine room… and then the engine would need to be started up. The nearest inhabited island was two days away (with good conditions), so while Linebeck had no need to get going right that moment, he felt safer with the engine running.

To get the engine started, Linebeck pulled a lever by the wheel up and waited a moment as he heard the hissing of steam start, and then stop. He knelt down in front of the storage tank. Enough water for the day, that was for sure. He withdrew his matchbox from a pocket in his coat and struck a match, humming idly to himself as he tossed it in the space below the water. It would only be a few minutes before the ship could get going; over the years, Linebeck had gone back and forth on the design of the engine, and managed to make it especially efficient with different materials and methods, and was quite proud of it. While the water heated up, he shut the tank door and sat back, resting a moment.

He’d gotten… some sleep last night. He’d dreamed briefly, and didn’t feel as terrible as he usually did. Some sleep. Better than no sleep at all. Linebeck laid down on the floor and stared up at the ceiling. He stared at the winding pipes at the tops of the walls and then shut his eyes. If he was lucky, he could perhaps find a few minutes to nap. Just a few minutes…

The ticking of the machinery around him slowly faded in as the engine properly started up. The sound melted into with the noise of the ocean outside, and Linebeck felt his anxieties ease. The familiarity of his daily routine eased his mind like nothing else.

The next island was north of his position… Linebeck let out a long breath. He’d have to at least position his ship facing north, and get started within the hour. He sat up and stretched. If he got started now, he could reach the island by late tomorrow. The engine was ready to go, and Linebeck smiled to himself as he fiddled with some of the smaller levers and switches, listening to the subtle changes in the ticking and clicking around him.

He paused when he heard up an unfamiliar noise. Linebeck stilled his hands, suddenly feeling cold.

Without thinking, Linebeck kicked the engine into proper operation and after a moment, the wheels on either side of the ship started turning and he quickly steered the ship in the opposite direction of that odd sound. He heard it again, from outside his ship- the unmistakable sound of cannon fire, and Linebeck was not brave enough to stop and check to see if it was aimed at him.

It was usually aimed at him, anyways.

Linebeck steered his ship away and locked the wheel in place; he felt his heart pounding in his chest as more muffled canon fire reached his ears. One sounded closer than the rest, and he managed to tear himself away from the wheel and run up to deck. Running away was nice, but he needed to know where to run away to.

It seemed like he was getting chased more and more. Linebeck figured he ought to start a list of the crews that had it out for him; that was something to do once he was safe. He stumbled out onto the deck and leaned over the rope railing, staring at the southern horizon. Sure enough, he could see a pirate ship in the distance heading his way, and the wind was in their favor.

Linebeck gripped the railings until the rope started to dig into his skin. The hell did he do to them? He recognized the decorated sails as the sails of the ship that’d been pursuing him before the storm. Their captain was one he’d cheated out of several hundred rupees in poker- or was that a different crew? No time to think it over while they got closer and closer. More cannon fire rang out, and Linebeck jumped back as the cannonball splashed into the water dangerously close to his ship.

Sailing in a straight line was a terrible idea. Better to leverage his steamship’s advantages and focus on disrupting their aim. Linebeck wildly looked around. No rocks or islands in sight. His best hope was to run for it and hope that either they’d run out of cannonballs or the wind would die down. He raced back inside.

He was just one man; why did all of these pirates decide that being slighted by him once marked him as the biggest threat to them on the entire Great Sea? Pirates were so petty. He flinched when he heard a muffled splash and felt the ship rock. Linebeck gripped the wheel tightly and started turning the ship west, his sweaty hands almost slipping off. He gritted his teeth as the cannon fire sounded closer and the ship rocked again.

The last time he’d been pursued like this, a cannonball had burnt his hull and cost him several days of sleep. Linebeck turned the ship far enough around to spy the pursuing pirates again; the moment he heard the cannon fire again, he spun the wheel to sail in the opposite direction. Turning was slow, but his ship never stopped moving. He’d had nightmares about one of the wheels being damage, and Linebeck felt weak in the knees just thinking about it.

As the pirate ship slipped out of view, the waters around his ship were more violently disrupted, and Linebeck yelped as his ship was more violently rocked by the waves. There was no cannon fire, no sound of a cannonball hitting the waves- and the water was clearly churning too violently for it to have been a cannonball. He clung to the steering wheel for dear life, his knees nearly buckling underneath him, and the cacophonous sound of an especially large wave made him wince. The ship rocked again, but still no cannon fire. Instead, Linebeck picked up a new muffled noise.

…Splintering wood?

The wood of his own ship was fine, there was no motion asides from the violent waves rocking his ship, but the distant splintering continued, and with it, faraway screams. For the second time in barely five minutes, Linebeck’s curiosity prevailed over his fear. On shaky legs he stumbled up onto his deck- slick with water that had poured onboard, and nearly fell over the railings when he reached them.

The pursuing pirate ship was being torn apart by something. Something had pulled the main mast down and split it in half, tearing through the sails and ripping the vessel in half. Linebeck squinted, hardly seeing anything that could be causing it, then caught a glimpse of what looked like a thick black rope curled around the prow, tearing it clean off and dragging it into the sea. The way those ‘ropes’ moved; Linebeck slowly slid down into a crouch as he realized that a sea monster was what was attacking that ship.

One pirate jumped from where the prow had been, likely trying to escape and swim away, but a black tentacle shot out of the water and grabbed them midair and yanked them below the water. Linebeck felt frozen to the spot, more than grateful that he wasn’t the creature’s target, but he feared that if he took advantage of the chaos and sailed away, he would be attacked next.

The pursuing ship began to sink, and the sharp cracking of wood was piercing as it reached Linebeck’s ears. The hull was torn in two, more tentacles appearing to crush them into unsalvageable wreckages. The fear that shot through Linebeck urged him to straighten back up. He started to hurry back into the engine room, but stopped in his tracks as the tentacles withdrew back into the water.

The pirate ship’s remains slowly sank, survivors clinging to any floating pieces. Linebeck stared at the water around his ship. That… thing had stopped. That sea monster that he and those pirates had the misfortune to disturb.

That sea monster- Linebeck had researched every possible hostile creature that had been seen on the Great Sea, and that certainly had to have been one of them. He grabbed onto his railing again, feeling too sick to move his gaze from the sinking ship down to the waters just below him. He stood at the end of the railing, steady on the sloping deck despite the way his limbs shook and his heart hammered in his chest.

There was a sea monster in these waters. It had just wiped out an entire pirate crew in hardly a minute. From what Linebeck could recall, that pirate crew was rather prepared and experienced, and their ship certainly wasn’t some glorified piece of driftwood. This wasn’t just an overgrown gyorg or some other typical sea monster- he was at the mercy of the kind of sea monster that had stories passed around. The kinds that endured for decades or even centuries and were either worshipped or feared. He’d never seen a regular sea monster that had those kinds of tentacles and was that quick and deadly.

One of the stranded pirates was suddenly and violently pulled under water. Linebeck lowered himself back down to a crouch, staring at the now-empty patch of water. After a few moments, a faint red hue bloomed from deep under the surface.

I’m going to die.

The thought seemed to echo in Linebeck’s head. It wasn’t a thought he was unfamiliar with, but it was much, much more frantic now than ever. He was going to drown or be eaten. Even if he got out unscathed, his ship likely wouldn’t, and that sounded just as bad as if he got injured. Linebeck shakily stared down at the water mere feet from him. Every tiny wave and ripple in the water heightened his anxiety, and his mind raced. Another pirate was pulled under the water, eaten, and the waters were still for a moment. Then, there was a subtle ripple further away from the wreckage and closer to Linebeck’s ship.

How do I get out of this?

Linebeck’s terror forced him to his feet, and he raced into his ship’s cabin. That monster was more than capable of catching up with that pirate ship, and Linebeck stumbled on his way down the stairs as his ship rocked slightly.

This monster was capable of killing and catching him with ease, and it tore apart that pirate ship with ease, and it was eating the survivors, and Linebeck was up next if he didn’t think fast. His feet brought him into his ship’s cramped kitchen, and he stood still in the doorway for a moment. His fear and quick-thinking seemed to crash into each other, and his mind went blank as he stared around. Linebeck switched his attention from his utensils to the fish he’d recently caught and had yet to clean to the cupboards. Why the hell had he run here?

The sea monster killed all of the pirates. It was probably chasing after him now. It tore apart the ship, and… ate the pirates. Ate the pirates. Linebeck stared at his recently-caught fish. There were a pair of smaller amberjacks he’d picked up during the storm, a seabass he had a few different plans for, and then a large loovar he’d been planning to sell. He suddenly felt itchy looking at that loovar. He was going to sell it. It was a large, pristine loovar, with sleek, undamaged scales and was over five feet long and took up the entire counter that fit in the narrow kitchen. It was valuable and would net him a good sum of rupees at the next island he docked at.

Linebeck’s ship rocked again, violently enough to knock him off balance. The terror finally mixed with his quick thinking and he grabbed and yanked the loovar off the counter, stumbling a moment under its weight. He slung it over his shoulder and hauled it up the stairs, his shoulder aching before he was even in the engine room. Goddesses, his coat was going to reek if he made it out of this alive.

He paused to grab his mop and tuck it into the crook of his elbow and stumbled a bit, stubbornly keeping the fish from touching the floor. The ship rocked under his feet again, and Linebeck shuddered and hurried out onto the deck. The water around his ship’s hull ripped every few moments, and Linebeck didn’t hesitate in letting the loovar drop onto the wood. He kicked it off the deck, and it fell unceremoniously into the water and floated barely a few inches from the hull- too close.

With the mop he prodded at it and sent it floating slowly away from his ship. And so, Linebeck huddled at the edge of his deck, leaning against his mop for support. For just a moment, the waters were still. The loovar bobbed on the water’s surface and the sunlight glinted off its scales. Linebeck exhaled slowly. For all he knew, the monster could have already left. He could probably grab the loovar if he was careful.

Linebeck started to reach back out with the mop, but drew it back as the water around the loovar suddenly started to ripple. The rippling grew more furious, and the water began to bubble and small waves started rushing out from around the fish- a dark shape was just barely visible deep in the water. The shape rushed to the surface, and Linebeck only got the quickest glimpse before falling backwards onto the deck as the largest waves yet set his ship violently rocking.

It was huge, easily half the size of his ship, and a stunning yellow. For the split second he saw it, Linebeck couldn’t discern any detail, but he didn’t miss the mouth full of sharp teeth that engulfed the loovar. Linebeck had fallen onto his back and didn’t dare move as the sea calmed down, the blurry image of the beast burnt into his mind. He stared up at the sky and realized that the fear in his chest had eased. Had he appeased the creature? The rocking of his ship slowly stopped, and he felt he was in no hurry to get up.

There was a slight splashing, and Linebeck jolted upright. He stared off the edge of the deck, at where the loovar had been floating. It stared back at him. The sunlight glinted off its yellow body, greenish in some spots, and golden in others. Under the water, the rest of it was just a murky shadow. In its mouth, encircled by those teeth, was an eye that stared back at him, the tiny pupil within a burning yellow and orange, surrounded by deep black. A monstrous eye, and one that Linebeck could’ve sworn he’d seen somewhere. Something about the thing’s unblinking gaze made a sense of visceral horror return to Linebeck, and before he could think it through, he scrambled to his feet.

The creature didn’t move in the water, but its eye followed his movements. Despite the hammering of his heart, Linebeck couldn’t tear his gaze away from that eye. His limbs felt locked in place, and his breathing came in in ragged gasps and he realized just how bad his situation had gotten. There was no way that loovar was enough to save him. He’d seen the way the creature had torn apart that pirate ship. He’d seen the way it had grabbed and killed those pirates. There was nothing keeping it from killing him next.

Then, without any sound but the sounds of the water, the creature sank down into the ocean and out of sight.

Linebeck immediately hurried back into his cabin, just barely remembering to snatch up his mop.

He wasted no time in getting his ship up and running again, and set a course for the island before even thinking of relaxing. Linebeck anxiously surveyed the sea as he steered the ship away, but spotted nothing out of the ordinary.

…Maybe the loovar had satisfied that… thing. Linebeck tried not to think much about it. But his nerves were still shot by the encounter, and he stiffly steered until the sun began to set.

He didn’t anchor the ship until stars glittered in the sky. Linebeck moved gingerly around his ship, half expecting that monster to return. But the evening was quiet, and Linebeck eventually felt relaxed enough after doing his rounds. He collected every book he had that mentioned sea monsters and went out on deck to read and rest.

Linebeck rested against the prow. He set the books in his lap and started flipping through each one, quickly skipping through what turned out to be a catalogue of common seafaring enemies, and finding a short collection of short stories based on powerful creatures around the world. As the sun dipped further below the horizon, Linebeck finally reached a much more informative book- one that had been gathering dust at the edge of the shelf- and flipped through more slowly, inspecting each illustration. Dragons, sentient plants, fish creatures, and Linebeck slowed down upon reaching the chapter reserved for deities. It didn’t take long for him to turn a page and find a familiar illustration.

It was little more than a collection of sketches, but that eye was unmistakable. Linebeck leaned over the book with a small spark of triumph in his heart. He was right- it was one he’d heard of before, a creature named ‘Bellum’. Apparently a powerful, demonic sea monster.

Linebeck felt a faint shiver down his spine and he sat up and stared off across the sea. He shut the book and gathered up the rest. Back in the cabin, he locked the door out, and hesitated with his hand on the knob. That nearby island was his destination, a small island with a small town that he’d been for. He needed supplies, needed to restock on food and parts and whatever else eluded him at the moment.

He double-checked the lock and silently headed down into the storage room. Linebeck left the volume with the information on Bellum on the table, and put the rest back on the bookshelf behind the thin bar that kept them from falling out.

Bellum.

Linebeck turned and stared at the book on the table. In the dim light of the few lit lanterns in the room, the book seemed almost ominous with its dark cover and elaborate spine. Where had he picked this one up? Was it one from home, or something he’d bought on a whim a while ago? Either way, it was worth reading through and taking notes on- even if the information he wanted seemed to only take up two pages.

Linebeck idly rubbed his hands together. The only indication of his lingering anxiety was the thin layer of sweat on his palms. Most sea monsters were known through shared stories and rumored sightings. Once he got all he could from the book, he could start asking around at islands. With any luck, though, he wouldn’t have to see that thing again.

[coridallasmultipass]

.

[florencebirdsong]

Deer

Wanda Maximoff x Reader, Agatha Harkness x Wanda Maximoff

Agatha All Along Week 2024 - Day 5

summary: you're pretty sure you aren't being followed - it's probably just paranoia - but you keep catching a flash of red out of the corner of your eye

tags: vampire au, this is more vampire attack than smut tbh, biting (or one big bite), non-descriptive blood drinking, non-con, fingering (r receiving)

authors note: don’t ask how long I spent watching vampire Wanda edits for ‘research’.

Reader is wearing non-descriptive pants. They/them pronouns used.

ao3 | masterlist

Scratch that. You’re pretty sure you’re being followed. The probability of someone going the exact same way as you after three random turns is very small. But it isn’t zero. A fact you are clinging very hard to as you speed up.

This is meant to be a safe part of town and yet there is someone keeping perfect pace behind you. You’ve only managed to catch a glimpse out of the corner of your eyes when walking, trying not to alert them to the fact that you’re aware you’re being followed, but all you made out is long hair and dark clothes. The slight red nowhere to be seen. Maybe you’re imagining things?

You veer into a side street, desperately hoping you’re being paranoid.

The footsteps pass the entrance. You think. You cast look over your shoulder to check to find her looking back, eyes glowing a deadly red. Your instincts kick in and you’re sprinting down the street before you truly process that her eyes are red. The shock makes you stumble. You don’t get a chance to right yourself. A force slams into your side and then you into the wall. Your head follows and you fall to the ground, dizzy as hell.

Hands are on you too fast to fight. The world hasn’t even stopped spinning yet. How is she moving so fast? 

You’re lifted up and slammed back against the wall. What little air you’d managed to scrape back into your lungs rushes out. Your head is forced back and something sharp sinks deep into your throat. You cry out and try to push it away. She’s immovable. 

A dull ache deep in your muscles begins to spread and you whimper. The ache grows and the deeper it goes the more it starts to feel good. A slight tingle growing into a deep heat sparking along your spine.

A hand forces its way under your pants and into your cunt. You gasp. The tingling in your shoulder drips down to meet the warmth building between your thighs. Red hot heat builds and builds until it envelopes your entire being. Until you’re a moaning, writhing mess. A thumb finds your clit and the heat inside of you blazes. You come hard enough for your vision to turn white.

She moans and that strange suctioning feeling becomes stronger. It makes everything stronger. All that you are becomes heat and the feel of her.

Suddenly, a lifetime later, the deep ache in your shoulder disappears and she steps back. Your legs are too weak to hold you and you slowly slide down the wall. You automatically try to press on the sting in your shoulder but your hand only moves a few centimetres before falling back down. Your arms feel like you’ve fallen asleep on them. Actually, your everything feels like that.

Something hot drips down your neck. Something you should be concerned about. The tingles still spread through out your body makes it hard to. But you do manage to drag your eyes up. To see the thing that’s maybe a woman.

Your brain catches on how nice her clothes are. High end. Which is a strange thing to notice right now but the brain tends to do strange things in times of…whatever just happened to you. You can’t make out much else. The shadows reveal sharp cheekbones and dark-toned hair. 

You try to move your hand again and her eyes flash towards you. You freeze. They’re the same dark, glowing red. Inhuman.

Your mouth opens to- you’re not sure. You’re too tired to scream or cry. Maybe to question. But your tongue feels thick in your mouth and you can’t get it to move enough to make anything resembling words. There’s a look on her face you can’t quite make out enough to read. If she even conveys emotions in a way you’d recognise. 

She turns and looks back the way she came.

You don’t see her move but she must have because a hand tilts you onto your side. It makes you dizzy enough to feel sick

A pair of black boots walk into view.

“Not bad for your first solo hunt, hun.”

“I don’t think it counts as solo with you following so closely.”

“You could’ve blamed me if you hadn’t left the poor deer in such a state.”

There’s silence from the one who attacked you.

“Don’t take it so personally. You’re still young. You obviously enjoyed yourself, you herded them to a secluded place, and you didn’t even tear them apart.” You watch the boots step closer. “You’re doing amazing, superstar.” She takes a deep breath. “Aw, and you even made it enjoyable for them.”

“Agatha,” the one who attacked you says, sounding like she’s grinding her teeth together.

“Wanda,” Agatha mocks back. “You know better than to use our names. We’ll have to finish this one off now.”

“Leave them,” Wanda says. “They’re half-dead anyway.”

“Your soft heart is going to get you caught, dear,” Agatha says.

“You call this soft hearted?” Wanda scoffs.

“Self-pity gets you nowhere.”

“I st-,” she takes a deep breath, “I’m not having this conversation again.”

Her heels click with every step she takes away from you. The sound is long gone from your ears by the time the other woman moves again.

You watch as the boots slowly turn towards you. You think she’s going to kill you anyway but no. She nudges you, almost curiously, with her boot for a moment before turning on her heel and following her supposed charge.

Authors note: Did I add Agatha in at the end because her and Wanda are so entwined in my mind that I forgot Wanda doesn’t count as an AAA character? …next question.

[ctrl-alt-bucky]

♡ Release ♡

Simon Riley x Female Reader [Requested prompt!]

The team finally has time to rest after months of hard work. Pent up, you and Ghost find a good outlet for release— each other.

Heed the warning below! There isn't much kink to this one tbh, just a mild hint of public play. If you want a spicier fic, check out the last one I wrote in this mini series. Ao3 and everything is in the notes at the end.

Enjoy! ;)

Word count: 3,479 | Chapters: 1 | Tags: Fempov, missionary, slow build, risky

Long, sleepless nights weren't an uncommon occurrence for you. It wasn't often you got respite during times of high tensions and potential war. Echoes of gunfire tarnished your dreams; stains of blood penetrating your body bone-deep, even when it's scrubbed clean of any signs; a reminder that you were forever marked by death.

As for Simon, he knew the experience all too well.

Words were hardly exchanged, just knowing looks and observations. You tightly wrapped in a blanket, sitting on the edge of a couch in the common room, the digital clock mocking you with the ungodly hour. Simon, his tired eyes and partially masked face, standing by the counter waiting for the coffee pot to start bubbling.

It started a few months after you got assigned to taskforce 141. You piece together from Ghost's slow acceptance of your presence that he's done this a while now— snuck out of the barracks in the middle of the night to make coffee or simply sit in the silent, empty room. But it wasn't empty for long. You'd make it to the room after him, often times. At first, you wouldn't acknowledge him, assuming Simon wanted it that way. But then that turned into small nods of greeting, then to sharing a pot of coffee while you two leaned with your backs to the counter, and then, somewhere in the mix, a bond grew.

It wasn't an every night occurrence. While deployed, your relationship with him was business as usual, and when you weren't shipped off to God knows where— well, it took days to recover. Days spent alone and half-asleep in a dark room with stashed weapons for all of the ‘what ifs’ your mind could conjure.

Dark circles sag under your eyes, matching Simon's. The team had been stationed here for a week now, and it was only just tonight that you decided it wasn't worth tossing and turning until daybreak.

A steaming mug of weak coffee sits on the counter. You greet Simon with a barely-there smile of appreciation and wrap your hand around the ceramic curve, your fingers curling over the handle. It has a marines logo on the front, faded and stained from time. Amusing, to say the least.

Simon is sitting down at the small fold-up table with his own mug, the liquid half gone. Something about him seems… off. He's more jittery than usual, and that's not the caffeine speaking. His eyes bore into the tabletop, his eyebrows pulling together; tense. The lower half of his face is covered by a black mask, missing its iconic skull design. It makes it hard to tell what he's thinking or feeling. You suppose that's the point.

“Price mentioned an intel mission earlier. Looks pretty secure, if we can get it in time.” You murmur quietly, breaking the tense silence.

Ghost nods his head, but doesn't look up from the table. He makes a small “mmn” noise in agreement and you figure he's not talkative tonight. No big deal. He usually isn't one for talking during these late nights anyway. You usually aren't either, but you're worried. You can't help it.

Sipping from your mug, you approach the small couch facing away from the table. There's a small, old tv in front of it, balanced on top of four crates with a board laid across them. There isn't enough funding distribution for a tv stand or good mattresses, but there's an endless shipment of coffee to keep your team functioning. Go figures. You're not one to complain though; You're lucky you even get entertainment in this place.

The tv is set to low, playing a random movie from the 80’s. You spot a VHS tape in one of the crates and wonder who the hell brought that along for a set up like this. While the intro to a murder mystery plays, you hear footsteps behind you, and Simon appears in the corner of your eye.

His gaze is on the tv, reading the title screen that flashes in bright colors and a font that’s distinctly from that era. You shuffle over to provide more room, and he hesitates before taking a seat, one arm staying propped on a small couch cushion wedged into the corner. He's man-spreading, but you don't mention it. The way your knees just barely brush against each other— it's the closest you've gotten to him outside of the occasional encouraging pat on the shoulder before a mission.

It's been ages since you've last felt someone's touch.

You curl your legs in so that they're tucked underneath you, your cold hands keeping the mug steady. Simon’s watching you from the corner of his eyes. It makes your heartbeat quicken.

Fifteen minutes go by. When you next bring the mug to your lips, you realize it's empty, having disappeared while you idly drank and stared in the general direction of the tv. You couldn't bother paying attention right now.

"Do you need help?" You ask quietly.

Ghost looks at you. He blinks.

“You look jittery.”

“I’m not jittery.” Ghost grumbles.

You raise a brow and he lets out a defeated sigh and looks up at the ceiling. After a few moments of silence, he puffs out a soft breath, calm and controlled, and shakes his head like he’s shaking himself free of the endless turmoil bubbling inside his head.

“Whaddya have in mind?”

✩⋆---⭑✧⭑---⋆✩

It starts out with cards.

Poker; Cribbage; Go Fish. Ghost has an unfair advantage with poker because of the mask, but he refuses to take it off when you point it out to him, so he ends up switching the game before you two even start.

Holding your set of cards like a fan, you peer over them as Ghost stares at the tabletop with an intense look of concentration.

Slowly, he reaches for a card in his own little pile (you expected him to be neat with his own cards, but he’s not. It’s chaotic. Nevertheless, it suits him)— and he glances up at you, his voice gruff when he asks, “Any queens?”

You pretend to study your deck. You know you have none, but you still take your time. Something in you doesn’t want this to end; To go back to your bunks, exhausted and alone, and wait until the next time the universe grants you both a respite.

Sighing, you can’t help but smile as you finally answer, “Go fish.”

Ghost draws from the deck, but you reach your hand out before it’s fully across the table. The touch is electric, and it causes Ghost’s eyes to flick up to meet yours. You realize just how brown they are. A deep brown, with hints of hazel. They stand out amongst the black of his mask— even more so when he’s got black paint smudged around his sockets out on the battlefield. You never really noticed it until now. Goosebumps rise on your arms, hidden beneath the sleeves of your sweater.

You were meant to say something, anything, but you can’t find the words.

Ghost finds them for you.

“You’re bored.” He says it like a statement, not a question.

You nod, slowly.

Ghost makes a humming noise of agreement and nods too. Then he brushes his thumb over the back of your hand, his gaze idly watching your fingers slightly twitch. The air feels charged and heavy and tinged with uncertainty. You find it difficult to properly breathe, your chest tight and body tense; your mind a race of he’s touching me, he’s touching me and I can’t handle it, he’s touching me and I can’t remember the last time I felt this— have I ever felt this?— would it even matter?—

You haven’t a clue what’s going through Ghost’s head, but you can see that something is affecting him. His chest rises and falls faster, those broad shoulders taught with a newfound tension you hardly recognize. Preparing himself. Ghost isn’t like this unless he’s looking down the sights of his rifle. All poise and concentration, he tightens his grasp like he’s pulling a trigger and he’s dragging you out of nowhere, guiding your upper half across the short table under you’re leaned over and inches away from his face.

You say nothing. Hell, what could you say? Stop? Don’t?

You want this.

Fuck, you need this.

You use your free hand to tug his mask under his chin and you kiss him.

It’s firm yet hesitant, and your mind races with all the ways this could backfire. But Ghost is warm and his stubble is rough, scratching against your chin and lips as he leans into it, pressing into you as though he’s giving himself permission to allow this.

The kiss breaks when you run out of breath. You pant as you try to catch up, your eyes blinking open to find Ghost’s half-lidded gaze searching your face with a sense of desperation. Realization has set in: the floodgates have opened, and there’s no going back now.

You lead this time around, scooting yourself out of the shitty metal chair and rounding the table to him. Ghost stands, his eyes never leaving you once, and he’s tall and broad, towering over you, even as he bends his head down to meet your lips with a feverish kiss. You taste the coffee on his breath and the warmth from his tongue as it glides against yours clumsily. His hands grip your hips and suddenly you’re pulled upward like you weigh nothing and set down onto the tabletop with your legs spread. Ghost fits himself between your knees, his hands trailing down to grip your thighs, squeezing the flesh.

A rush of heat fills your body. You can feel a blush on your cheeks, heat prickling the back of your neck. The space between you and his chest is hot as well, practically radiating off of his body— the body that keeps you trapped against it with your legs locked and hands scrabbling at its shoulders; the body that’s firm and muscular and alive under your touch, reacting to each grind of your hips as you desperately rock against him.

“Fuck.” Ghost murmurs against your lips, low and breathy.

You can’t help the chuckle that escapes. You’re giddy with the feelings knotted inside your chest. This is happening. Holy shit. And you can’t come to terms with this, that’s it’s taken so long to happen. The tension wasn’t not there. Subtle glances and lingering looks were just the start, not to mention the jokes Soap, Gaz, and even Price made about you two— about how similar you were; quiet and brutal and deadly, two lone wolves watching their pack’s back.

Even so, Ghost has more resilience than this. You thought you had more— hell, if your self control was hanging by a thread during the last mission, then it’s practically been snapped now, and by your own two hands.

You’re tired of feeling tired. And Ghost is more than eager to quell the chaotic energy inside of you both.

His teeth catch your bottom lip as you tilt your head and grasp for the back of his neck. You flinch, the pain incredibly brief, and he makes a low groaning noise that sends a bolt of heat straight between your legs. Your thighs clench around him, and he soothes the nip with his tongue as an apology, but all it does is make you whine with need.

Lips tingling, you break the kiss to the sound of a zipper. Ghost bites his bottom lip and follows your eyes down to where your hips lay flush together. His boxers are exposed, belt flayed open, and he’s hard and he’s big too. Bigger than you anticipated— and you haven’t even properly seen it yet.

You slide a hand down his chest and palm the bulge with deft fingers. Ghost groans again, and it’s right then that you decide you want to hear more of that noise.

It takes some maneuvering, but your cargos find the floor in no time. The tabletop is cold against the backs of your thighs, but Ghost's hands are burning hot against your skin. His eyes remain between you, looking down at the (frankly embarrassing) pink panties you're wearing. There's a hint of amusement in Ghost's gaze, like he's tempted to make a comment on it, but instead he just presses his thumb to the front of the fabric and rubs, slow and precise.

For all of the training you've had— the long night's waiting hours in the cold for the perfect moment to strike; the torture that you stayed resilient through; the second-hand nature of your brain thinking logically over what you actually wanted— seemed to be all in vain in this one moment.

Whether it was a long time coming or not, you struggle to even stay still as Ghost’s thumb presses harder, seeking out the shaky breaths leaving your parted lips. It sinks even lower, to a forming wet patch on the thin fabric, and Ghost practically rumbles when he sees the evidence of your desperation.

He wastes no time in pulling the fabric to the side and adjusting your position, pulling your thighs up until you're resting on your lower back with your legs bent and bowed out. Ghost murmurs something that sounds like praise, but you're too caught up in the sound of your heartbeat thumping away in your ears.

First, it's just a finger that enters you. Ghost’s hand trembles so slightly you almost miss it, and he pumps the digit in and out a few times before eagerly adding another. You aren't quite prepared for it. The burn of a stretch would otherwise deter you, but now— now, all it does is drive you up the fucking wall.

“Ghost.” You whine, voice warbly.

Ghost curls his fingers and your head tips back, eyes squeezing shut.

“Simon—”

Now that causes Ghost to falter.

You open your eyes and glance down your body to see his reaction, afraid you might've crossed a line. If his eyes were any indicator, you have a feeling you just skirted the line. You also realize he shed his own cargos at some point and pulled down the hem of his briefs to his mid-thigh, exposing the long, hard curve of his cock. It reaches his navel, the tip wet and catching the dim sterile light of the room.

“Simon.” You repeat carefully.

Ghost pulls his fingers out, grabs under your hips, and drags you even closer to the edge of the table. You yelp, but it's no deterrent. He's feral in a way you've never seen— desperation and nerves and frustration all coiled into his determined expression, truly like a wild animal. It isn't often you get to see under the mask. What doesn't make sense is why he's letting you while he's vulnerable like this.

Your eyes meet as he lines up and rubs the tip against you, hot and slick.

And then he pushes in, and your eyes close once more as every feeling in your body narrows down to just this. This stretch, this heat— everything. The way Ghost’s chest vibrates as he groans, how he feels inside, thick and real; it's so much to handle, all you can do is lay back and try to catch your breath until he reaches the hilt.

Buried deep inside, Ghost grinds his hips and grunts when you whimper in response. His hands are gripping under your thighs, right below the bend of your knees, and he's using the contact as an anchor to drive himself in and out like he has no time to waste. And with how you've been treated lately, there really is no time to waste. God knows how late into the night it's gotten, but the thrill of what if—

And oh god. What if.

*What if someone comes in?*

The windows are foggy with condensation, the frames coated with dust and grime and who knows what; But you can see the beginnings of a washed yellow peeking through the thick trees outside, right past Ghost's shoulder. You catch a subtle reflection from the overhead light bouncing off the glass pane, transfixed by his rippling muscles as they bunch and strain while he practically pounds into you with all his might.

Arching your back, you dig your heels into his lower back and shudder when the angle changes, his cock brushing past the sensitive bundle of nerves buried inside of you. Ghost notices that you're distracted, but it's clear he doesn't know why. You can't tell if he's irritated by it or curious, but the worry doesn't stick around very long— he presses his thumb to your clit before you have the chance to regroup yourself, and that's all the stimulation it takes to stoke the fire burning in your gut. It's all you need to stop caring about the risk of you two getting caught. You both deserve this— surely, the team would understand.

You feel yourself pulse around Ghost's cock, an orgasm so treacherously close you can feel your thighs shaking with the force of its foundation.

They'd better understand.

You might die from this feeling. Forget the trenches, there's nothing that makes you shake, cry, and beg so easily.

“That's it,” Ghost grunts. The words, among the first he's spoken almost all night, prod at a part of your brain you thought was long shut down by now. And he keeps doing it, encouraging you with low, growly breaths and strained words; a mixture that makes your head spin— beyond the fact that you're nearly upside down with how high your back is arched, your temple nearly pressed to the tabletop.

Ghost bends over you to get a better hold, and then he's rapidly thrusting like a fucking rabbit, and oh God, you can feel it— it's too much, too quick and too overstimulating, but he doesn't stop, he doesn't slow down, and suddenly Ghost's hand is covering your mouth as you practically wail your release. It crashes over you like a tidal wave, all-encompassing and fueled by years of restraint.

Your pussy spasms around him, walls uncontrollably rippling, even fighting to push him back out. But Ghost only drives in deeper, and in one, two, three thrusts, he seats himself fully to the hilt and groans against the sweat-slick skin of your neck as a warm, dirty feeling floods your insides.

✩⋆---⭑✧⭑---⋆✩

It takes you a while to catch your breath. Ghost is right with you, propping himself up on his palms, hands on either side of your trembling body, as his cock pulses the last ropes of cum inside. He slowly pulls his hips back until there's a rush of hot liquid gushing out onto the tabletop.

Your thighs are a mess— hell, your whole body looks more run through than some of the exercise regimes you and the team are forced to do every couple of weeks. You definitely feel a lot sweatier, though the lack of mud, blood, and grime in general is a plus.

Your face burns with a sense of embarrassment as you look between your legs and notice the mess he left behind. Ghost's cock is still half-hard, but he carefully smears the tip along your inner thigh (and holy shit that imagery will never leave your mind from now on) and stuffs it back into his briefs, then zips up his jeans before adjusting the belt, each movement precise.

You half expect him to just leave you there, but Ghost's hands are gentle when they grab ahold of your arms and pull you up into a seated position. Knees bent, your legs hang off the table, feet a foot or so from the cold floor. Ghost says nothing as he quickly snags the blanket you dragged in from off the back of the couch and wraps it around your shoulders. He helps you shuffle side to side so you can adjust your panties until they're properly on again, and he even goes the full mile to help guide your feet into the pant legs of your cargos until they're on as well. Not like you can wear these again, considering how stained they'll be in the next few minutes.

“Feel better?”

It's the only thing you manage to come up with to break this weird, tense silence. Your voice is hoarse, but with a little more coffee, it'll repair itself in no time.

Ghost's eyes crinkle slightly, and something tells you that he's far more amused than the faux annoyed huff he gives to your little question. It eases the knot in your chest, and you can't help but smile as you help him adjust his face mask.

“Yes,” Ghost admits anyway, his fingers brushing yours gently, “Feelin’ better. Now come on, up you get. We've got some work to do.”

I'm so down bad chat. As soon as I finished writing this, I thought of a follow-up shower scene I might write next if y'all want it 🫣 Ao3 link is here! (I crosspost over there) Requests/prompts are currently: open! Thanks for reading :] And thank you Jax for the prompt!! ♡♡♡

[roseetube]

fatass art dump for the month of january!!!!!!! idek where to start talking about this tbh... okay so most of these are for my friends and mutual's aus sooo I'll tag them!!!!!

@roxyz-silly-box turqoise from her infintinium AU (go read her fic!!!)

@steven-quartzuniverse band steven + evil steven + dreamcore steven (go check out his stuff!!! he has a fic on ao3)

& last but definitely not least @pogostikk Steven, Connie, and, Star from their Separation AU!!!! also go check out their art!!!!

might wanna expect a new fic from me in the near (or far) future

[slut4thebroken]

Timekeeper Raymond Leon pt. 1

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Pairing | Raymond Leon x reader

Summary | Raymond becomes obsessive trying to catch a suspect.

Warnings | 18+, canon level violence, smut, I’ll add tags for that in the next part, guns, angst?, idk what else to tag tbh

Words | 3k

Notes | Idk when part 2 is coming because I still have to write it but I’ll do my best to get it out soon.

Ao3 link | <3

Masterlist

“I’m timekeeper Raymond Leon.” 

You snickered and raised your brows in disbelief— what an introduction. 

“What can I help you with, timekeeper Raymond Leon?” He made no indication that he was affected by your mocking, which wasn’t all that surprising. 

“Someone stole a lot of time and their last known location was with you.” 

“Really? I don’t recall having any visitors recently. Except you of course.” 

“Maybe you just need something to jog your memory.” He reached in his coat pocket and pulled out a somewhat blurry picture of you and the man in question. It was clear enough that you could recognize yourself though. 

“That’s not me.” You shrugged. 

“That’s not you?” He asked, pointing to the mostly clear picture of your face. 

“Nope.” As he stared at you, you studied his face, trying not to get flustered by the fact that�� for a timekeeper— he’s fucking hot. After a moment, he sighed in what seemed like annoyance. 

“I tried to do this civilly, but if you won’t cooperate I’m going to have to bring you in and question you officially.” 

“Come back with something other than a blurry photo to prove it was me and I’ll talk to you. Until then, fuck off.” He pursed his lips and nodded as he thought. 

“If I have to come back, things will be a lot worse for you. This is your last chance.” He warned and you had to refrain from rolling your eyes. 

“I think I’ll take my chances. You can see yourself out, timekeeper Raymond Leon.” He only stared at you for another moment before standing up and leaving. The second you saw his car pull away, you rushed to pack a bag, not wanting to stay here and make it easy on him when he inevitably returned. 

You did help that man. In exchange for a place to stay for the night, he gave you one of the time bars he collected. You didn’t ask where or how he got them, honestly you didn’t care. With what he gave you, you can spend your days hiding from the timekeeper rather than working and giving him another easy place to find you. 

That proved to be more difficult than you expected though. Multiple times now, he’s almost caught up to you, almost found you, and every time you always run. But you were getting tired and the worst part is that it doesn’t seem like he is too. If anything he’s only more motivated to catch you after all this time— as if it was personal now. 

You were walking down the street, continuously checking behind you— he’s made you so paranoid that you flinch at the slightest sound. When you rounded a corner, your eyes widened at the black car slowly driving in your direction. You immediately turned around and started walking impossibly faster out of nerves, which only seemed to draw attention to yourself because you heard the siren turn on behind you, making you take off into a sprint. Every once in a while you checked behind yourself, finding the car right on your tail. When you turned down an alley, you heard the door slam shut and then loud footsteps, running after you. 

“Stop!” Fuck. Part of you was hoping it would be literally any other timekeeper besides him. But you’ve never had good luck. 

You rounded another corner, chest starting to burn from the exertion, and when you turned down yet another alley, you slowed to a stop at the sight of a building in front of you, high enough that you wouldn’t be able to climb over it. You cursed under your breath and turned around to go back and keep running, but he just caught up to you, slowing to a stop a few feet away and pointing a gun at you. When you staggered back, he followed you slowly, gun and eyes completely trained on you. 

“No where else to run.” He said, making you look around again just to be sure. He’s right. You were surrounded by three buildings, there was no way out other than behind him. 

“This doesn’t seem like a fair fight.” You said, glancing at the gun. 

“I’m not fighting you.” 

“Well I'm not going with you willingly so your options are shoot me or fight me.” He stared at you a moment, then scoffed a laugh and put the gun away. 

“Fine.” 

Truthfully this decision might’ve been a little stupid. You don’t know how skilled of a fighter he is and you’re not even very good yourself. But you figured having a slight chance was better than having no chance. 

Everytime you attacked, he blocked it easily with a smirk— he wasn’t even fighting back. Wanting to position yourself on the side of the only exit, you started trying to circle him, but he caught on almost instantly and made sure he always stayed between you and the street.  

The first time your fist landed on his cheek, both of you were stunned. He snapped out of it though and grabbed your wrist while you were still off guard, then twisted you around so your arm was bent uncomfortably behind your back. He pushed you forward until you hit the wall and then placed your other arm behind you as well. 

“I didn’t even fucking do anything.” You spat, squirming in his grip. 

“You ran, lied, and interfered with an investigation.” He said lowly, pressing his body against yours to limit your thrashing. 

“No shit I ran. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but people like me usually end up dead because of people like you.” 

“I wouldn’t kill you.” He said simply— as if his words would be enough to make you believe him. 

“No… You’d just take my time because I “have too much” and then I’d die.” 

“I would only take back the time that doesn’t belong to you.” 

“Someone gave it to me. I don’t fucking care where they got it from, you should be punishing them not me.” 

“Trust me, we have. But since you aided a wanted criminal, you need to be punished too.” You felt him lean back a little before continuing. “Only ten hours? Where’s the rest?” 

“I wasn’t about to walk around with too much time and get myself killed.” You scoffed, thrashing again. 

“That’s not what I asked.” 

“Go to hell!” He suddenly turned you around, slamming your back against the wall with a firm hand wrapped around your neck. 

“Where is it?” You clenched your jaw as your gaze hardened, ignoring the way your chest was heaving and your stomach was fluttering from the proximity alone. “It’s not at your place, we already checked. So where did you stash it?” 

“Fuck you.” You muttered, making his grip tighten on your neck. His free hand grabbed your wrist and he looked down at it, making you do the same. “Hey!” You tried yanking your wrist free as the numbers kept going down and down. He left you with 30 seconds, then looked back up at you. 

“I’d talk quickly if I were you.” 

“This is not fucking legal!” Your eyes kept rapidly glancing between his face and your arm— 25 seconds now. 

“Either you tell me where it is and I take it back, or you time out and no one uses it anyway.” 20 seconds. 

“Okay— okay I’ll tell you, just- give me my time back.” You rushed out, chest heaving in fear rather than arousal now. 

“Tell me first.” 

“Fuck!” 15 seconds. Your eyes burned with unshed tears as you watched yourself grow closer and closer to death. Should you just tell him? Give him a fake answer? Maybe he’s bluffing… But you don’t know for sure whether he is or not. Ten seconds. “Please- please, I’ll tell you—” You whimpered, but he just waited. Five seconds. “It’s in my apartment!” Your time was going up now, but only back to 30 seconds. 

“We already searched there.” 

“I- I have somewhere to hide it. Please.” 

“Show me.” He said as he gave you an hour. Pulling away from you, he motioned for you to start walking, so you did. “I doubt I need to remind you, but if you try anything, you’ll be dead in an hour.” 

“Fuck you.” You muttered, bottom lip quivering. You were glad you were at least in front of him so he couldn’t see you wipe your tears. You can’t even remember the last time you’ve been that scared. 

He walked taciturnly behind you, his boots heavy against the pavement compared to your worn down sneakers. 

“Why are you doing this?” You asked, not bothering to try and face him. 

“Why am I enforcing the law? Because it’s my job.” That made you halt suddenly and you couldn’t help yourself when you turned around. 

“Bullshit.” You spat, crossing your arms over your chest. “You’ve been fixated on me for weeks just because it’s your job? It’s only a few years, the other guy had hundreds. Why am I so fucking important?” He stared at you silently, his cheek flexing as he clenched his jaw, and you did your best not to shrink under his gaze. 

“I’m not giving you more time until I have what was stolen so I suggest you hurry up.” You huffed and rolled your eyes at his response, then turned around to keep walking. As you neared your apartment, you tried to think of a way out of this. You weren’t lying when you said you had somewhere to hide it in your place but you couldn’t just give it up that easily. 

You entered the building and walked up the stairs, then down the hall to your door. Fumbling with your keys, you tried to give yourself more time to think, but he caught on quickly. 

“Stall all you want but you have less than an hour before you time out so I wouldn’t recommend it.” 

“How do I know you’re not just going to leave me with this anyway?” You spat, turning around to face him. 

“Because unlike you, I’m not a liar.” He countered and you tried to maintain eye contact— to not give in. But after only a few seconds, you clenched your jaw and turned back around to open the door. 

“I need to go to the bathroom.” You said, setting your keys down on the counter as he scoffed a laugh. 

“Sure. After you give me what I came here for.” 

“I need to go now.” 

“Then you better hurry up.” Your teeth grinded together painfully as you glared at him, but all he did was raise his brows, waiting. 

“Fine.” You opened a drawer in the kitchen and grabbed a screwdriver, then walked to your room as he followed, carefully watching you. You eyed the messy space and gave him an annoyed look. “They could’ve at least put everything back instead of completely trashing my room.” He didn’t respond. Just waited by the door impatiently. 

You walked over to the nightstand and picked up the alarm clock to unscrew the back. You only bought this clock a couple weeks ago for the sole purpose of hiding the time capsule since you knew they’d search your apartment. 

Reluctantly, you took it out and set the clock back on the side table. He walked closer and held his hand out, but you hesitated. Despite the fact that you’ve been obsessively anxious and vigilant for the past couple weeks, they’ve been the most relaxing weeks of your entire adult life. You weren’t always hours from death, you didn’t have to overwork yourself to the point of considering just laying in bed and letting yourself time out. 

“Please.” You said quietly, looking up at him. “Please… Can’t you just- say I got away? Or that someone stole it from me?” You begged, grip tightening on the capsule.  

“No.” Your face fell from just that one word. Even if he gave you back the ten hours, you’d still be dead before you could find work. You looked around the room, gauging how close you were to the door or window and if you’d have a chance. “Don’t do something stupid. You’ll only make this worse for yourself.” You turned back to him, eyes starting to burn with tears once again. 

Impulsively, you decided to take your chances and go for the window since it was already open. You barely made it a foot away from it before a gun was going off, making you jump and squeeze your eyes shut, waiting for the pain you were sure you’d feel. When you opened your eyes, you saw a new hole in the wall in front of you, only inches to the left of your head. 

“Fine!” You yelled, voice breaking. Turning around, you threw the capsule at him and he caught it effortlessly. “Just fucking leave. I don’t want the time back.” You knew you probably only had half an hour left, but you felt completely and utterly defeated and exhausted.  

“We’re not done yet.” 

“I gave you what you wanted.” 

“You still broke the law. Numerous times.” 

“Seriously?” He just stared at you. “Fine. I’ll time out there instead.” When you walked passed him toward the door, he grabbed your wrist, making you freeze. 

“Not yet.” He said, then after a few seconds, released your arm that now showed two hours. “Let’s go.” Your gaze shifted between his hands, one with the gun and one with the time capsule. You knew you had to try something before you got in the car because after that you’d have no chance. 

“Remember what I said about doing something stupid?” Your eyes snapped up to his. 

“What so I’m just supposed to willingly fucking kill or incarcerate myself by going with you?” 

“Yes.” He all but shrugged, making your gaze harden. Eventually you just huffed and walked out of your room to the front door as he trailed behind you. 

The walk back to his car was silent and while you tried to walk slowly, every once in a while he’d nudge your back with the gun, warning you. When you rounded the corner only a block away from his car, you recognized the man across the street. 

You met him a few days ago. He was on 20 minutes, frantically begging on goers for any type of job they’d be willing to give. So you gave him a day. He seemed to recognize you too, then noticed the timekeeper behind you. He looked the other direction, spotting the black car a little ways down, and seemed to understand what was happening. Pulling his hood up, he started walking in the opposite direction you came from, then crossed the street so he was behind you. 

You heard a loud step, then turned around to find the timekeeper catching his balance before turning around to see who had pushed him. You reached for the gun and since he was distracted by your savior, you managed to take it from his loose grip, making him turn back to face you. His eyes quickly changed from shocked, to completely fucking pissed. You took a couple steps back and pointed it at him, watching the other man run away. 

“Give me the capsule.” You said, gaze shifting to his hand for half a second before looking at his face again. When he took a step forward, you took one back and adjusted your grip on the gun. “Set it on the ground and kick it to me.” You urged. 

“No.” 

“Excuse me?” You asked, brows shooting up. 

“If you want it, you’re going to have to kill me.” 

“Please just give it to me.” You begged, knowing you didn’t have what it takes to do that. Slightly lowering the gun, but still keeping your guard up, you stared into hard, unforgiving eyes. He was suddenly rushing toward you, and it all happened so fast that you don’t even know what you did, but one second he was moving forward, the next he was on the floor. You could see blood pooling in the pavement and you almost gagged at the sight of the hole in his leg. 

“Oh my god— oh my god, I- I didn’t…” You quickly threw the gun as if it had burned you and kneeled down next to him, anxiously looking between his pained expression and the wound that was gushing so much blood it almost made you throw up. “Are you okay?” 

“Are you fucking kidding?” He hissed, making you flinch. 

“Sorry— I’m sorry.” He stared at his leg for a second before growling and discarding the time capsule on the floor so he could put pressure on his leg. “Where’s your phone?” You reached for his coat pocket, making him flinch back. 

“Don’t fucking touch me.” He spat. 

“You need to call someone or you’ll bleed out!” How is it possible that you’re more panicked than he is right now? He seemed to understand his options though. 

“Fine.” You reached in his pocket and took out his phone to call 911, making sure to specify that it was a timekeeper that needed help so that they didn’t take their time. You don’t know why you did that for him though. He was about to arrest you for god's sake. After hanging up, you put it back in his pocket then reached for the time capsule, making sure to stay out of arm's reach. You gave yourself three days, then set it down next to him. 

“I’m sorry for shooting you. I honestly didn’t mean to.” He gave you a look of almost disbelief and irritation at the fact that you’d said something like that. 

“You’re not running?” He asked, breathing getting more and more labored. 

“I’m waiting until I hear the siren.” 

“Why?”

“Because I shot you and I feel bad.” You said sheepishly, making him scoff. 

“After all this time, you care enough to make sure I don’t bleed out?” He snarked. 

“Would you rather I go?” You asked, gaze still nervously moving between his eyes and his leg. He let out a quiet huff and rolled his eyes. “Please don’t try to find me again.” You begged. 

“You shot a timekeeper. You’ll be lucky if the order isn’t to shoot on sight.”

“Please.” You whispered urgently. 

“I don’t have any control over that. But even if I did, I’m not going to stop.”

“Please, Raymond.” Your head snapped up at the sound of sirens quickly growing closer. Before you stood, you grabbed the gun just in case. “Please.”

“Run all you want. I’ll find you eventually.”

Part 2

[hollow-lime-green]

hi!! just wondering if you have any stsg fic recs you’d be willing to share? i’m currently gobbling up 2sorcs like a gremlin and looking for something else to read between updates but i only really trust your opinions and characterizations which 🤌🏼🤌🏼🤌🏼 anyways love ur work and hope you’re doing well!!

Ah! First of all, thank you <3 I do have some fics I really like! I shall rec them and give a little anxiety disclaimer at the end.

Fic Recs - Shorties

it would make a whole - by @diggingupgrave 8.8k, T, First Year, Pre-Relationship, Emotional H/C oh i love this fic so very much. this may have been one of the fics that really got me thinking about their characterization in the first place, tbh.

As You Wish - by @haha-funny-valentine 2.5k, T, Post-Star Plasma Arc, Emotional H/C wonderful characterization here and I am just such a sucker for H/C.

The Heart of the Perfection of Wisdom - by @zombieheroine 16.3k, T, Prison Realm Gojo Character Study I took my skin off to check and I am shocked that this fic is not like, Doing Numbers. this fic is SO fucking creative and unique and I just. love. it. Definitely a big inspiration for FIYM. It's like Harrow the Ninth but for Gojo in the Prison Realm and like, oh my god so well done imo.

Longfic Recs with Caveats

and if you take my hand (series) - by @detta-pica 40k (Ongoing), T, Witch AU, Slow Burn Caveat: this is a WIP, and we're in the early part so very much Unresolved Romantic Tension. But I really like the worldbuilding in this and I'm excited to follow it as it keeps going, so big rec here if you like Plot and are down to follow some more ongoing fics. :)

coanda effect - by @bunniehoneys 250k, M, F1 AU, Slow Burn, Eating Disorders, Drugs, Bad Choices I am probably the last person in the world to read this fic so it feels silly to rec, but I'm doing it anyway because I'm a little obsessed. Caveat 1: also technically a WIP for another week or two

Caveat 2: TAGS check the tags. If you are at all sensitive to discussion of EDs, skip this fic, but I think it's done well and adds a lot to the characterization

Caveat 3: I am not caught up on this fic. it's one that I didn't let myself read for a while (see below) but F1 has a special place in my heart (my dad is into it, I used to live in a Gran Prix city, and I have watched WAY too much F1 Lets Play content).

I've been working really shitty hours for the past 48 hours (almost done) due to research that requires specific spans of real earth time. Because I don't have the focus to write right now, I've had the chance to read a little, and I've read about 75% of this gargantuan fic in windowless rooms on my phone, which has to say something about how much I love it lmao.

Disclaimer: I am a bad source of stsg fics because I actually don't read very many. If I read amazing fic then it tends to trigger the "you will never be as good as the old masters" part of the brain, although instead of real art like in the meme, my fic is putting gojo in a minecraft hoodie and making him do the gangnam style dance. Still.

I also get very unhealthy about metrics/numbers, which I mostly manage by using AO3 skins to block stats, but I still have some moments of weakness. So I try to avoid looking at stuff that I know might make me anxious/insecure about my own works and be unable to finish them (this has unfortunately happened to me before in the FE3H fandom, and that continues to weigh on me).

All that to say, there are some really big, nice, and well-loved fics by wonderful authors currently being updated, and I have read almost none of them. So this is absolutely not me saying I don't like their characterizations, I'm just kind of a hermit.

[multi-fandom-lunatic]

living in the uk is wild bc so many ppl have just. Stopped liking that franchise completely. Performances of the play ars still being churned out, but no one is going to see it. That exhibition is up but no one is going to it and tbh it's just like...idk that franchise needs to Go it's so irritating lmaoooo. Like these fans telling ppl that we have to let them like a franchise that constantly prioritises cis boys and cis men so much so that it is viscerally uncomfortable to engage with......yeah no

I live in Australia and while bookstores still proudly display Harry Potter and there are a few fans here and there, there really isn't much HP discourse at all. It's mostly on fandom spaces (but there's plenty of it here).

"Just let people like the things they like!" isn't the argument they think it is to reply to their blatant racism. Enjoying the things you like stops when it becomes harmful (to others not just to you).

I found a statistic on Morning Consult (no idea how reputable that site is, so take with a grain of salt) that 76% of HP fans are white. That is an absolutely astronomical amount, especially considering how popular HP is. So the whole 'sidelining POC voices to uplift white twinks' checks out a lot more. A lot of HP fans ignore racism simply because they can afford to. The only time they question racism within the fandom is when they are explicitly told about racism within the fandom, and only still when it doesn't make them uncomfortable. I've been through the #anti marauders tag and it's all only POC telling the fandom why their favourite characters are racist.

And I've noticed the Marauders fandom in particular seems to headcanon the characters as queer to reclaim it from Rowling and my honest reaction is just to sigh. Rowling does not CARE that you make fanart and fanfiction of queer Marauders and post them on Tumblr and Ao3. She cares about the current popularity of her books, and unless you let the fandom die, you aren't doing jackshit to Rowling, in fact, you're uplifting her.

My example for this is Regulus Black. The Black family are pure blood supremists and Reg also holds these views. He then joins the Death Eaters, who are extremists who hold Reg's views, but then Reg leaves the Death Eaters because he finds Voldemort too extreme (Though, anon, I'm sure you'll already know this). There is no evidence that his views changed. Redemption is through consistency, where many small actions have more values than one big one, and Regulus simply cannot be redeemed because he doesn't show any actual change (Besides, the Marauders, in canon do not have much page time AT ALL. So having a full fledged arc would be... impossible, unless she made the series even longer, god forbid).

Anon, you'll notice I'm specifically talking about the Marauders fandom here, that's just because that's where my research led me. My thoughts specifically about HP fandom is more or less the same, though I don't have any particular examples from the HP (not Marauders) side of things. I do think that the HP fandom is super fucking irritating, they are also a little less delusional than the Marauders fandom. Simply because while when the HP fandom (when I say HP fandom, I mean the main one) tries to separate itself from JKR, they pretty aware of the fact that JKR is a transphobe and they (mostly, and only here on fandom spaces) acknowledge that JKR is a shitty person and their views don't align with hers. Whereas the Marauders fandom act as their they're a completely separate entity, and while they do try to separate from JKR, they think they're absolved from any flack because "we're a separate fandom" and "we headcanon our characters as queer". Newsflash, Marauders fans, you aren't the first one to come up with headcanoning your characters as queer, and you sure as hell are not any different because your author is a transphobe.

You cannot separate the artist from the art, but especially in Rowling's case. She has glued herself to the art and is refusing to let go. And when people engage in the fandom, they just cement her legacy, as if it isn't an extensive one already. I've said this before and I'll say it a million times more: just. read. other. books. I know nostalgia is a bitch, but you sure as hell cannot move on if you never even acknowledge the behaviour as a problem. HP fans are just a step away from Booktok girlies, I fear. Constantly taking out the very political nature of the books just to focus on the things they like (for Booktok, it's morally grey book boyfriends. For HP, it's the cis white men they love so much. For Marauders, it's the racist asshole they've twinkified).

Thanks for the ask, anon. It's absolutely wonderful to have someone share my views on HP, Marauders and the fandoms. I hardly see any criticism that criticises the nature of being in the Harry Potter fandom, and the delusion in the Marauders fandom. I hope I addressed some stuff that you wanted to discuss, but no doubt there's a shit ton more. I know I'll likely not change any HP fans' mind with this, but if it causes them even a little discomfort, my job is done.

[tbhimnoteasyonmyself]

15 Day BL Challenge - DAY 16

We're doing overtime, guys dksjkdjksdjskd

What Show Has Taken You by Surprise This Year?

Have I been disappointed this year? Yeah, sure. But, tbh, this has been a good year, I think. Many series have been pretty good and it seems like we're heading towards a future with more quality, which is always nice, right?

This being said, here are my best surprises this year:

Jack&Joker & Wandee Goodday

Can you believe me? I saw the trailer for Jack&Joker and I was like: "ah... okay, whatever..." WHAT A JOKE, WHAT A MOTHERFUCKING JOKE! sdjskdjskdjkj This turned out to be one of my all-time favourite series, I was hooked on it from the 1st episode. Not a boring time in this universe, not an episode I didn't absolutely love, what a great fucking series! From the satire to the romance to the found family, everything was on point. Truly buzzing for February!

I watched Wandee Goodday bc I thought it could be "cool". BUT WAS IT FUCKING COOL??? NAH, IT WAS COOL AF!!! We need more working gays as opposed to high school or uni gays. Give me adults with established lives. It's so nice to watch a bunch of freaks who know who they are, actually. And still have so much to learn and discover tho! It's also way better to watch ppl in their 30s be single and still figuring it out, like, it's a good reminder your life doesn't end at 29, like they be saying. I had so much fun with this series, I want 20 of these.

HONOURABLE MENTIONS: Mr. Mitsuya's Planned Feeding & Caged Again

Not even gonna lie, I did start watching MMPF bc of Sakai Taisei bc, get this, I knew him from Ohsama Sentai King-Ohger. Yes. This is another tokusatsu to BL pipeline. Can't lie, I mean, I was curious. And boy, was I not disappointed. This series is so cute and heartwarming and actually well-written. My only complaint is that it should've been 2x hornier but that's okay.

PS: Ya boy over here is the creator of Mr. Mitsuya's tag on AO3, so if you wanna check out the only work in it (mine) here's your hyperlink xdkjdkjdksjdk.

Caged Again was probably the biggest surprise bc... Wdym he was a penguin and the other guy was a panther and they both escaped the zoo and are now students at a boarding school and 2 ppl from the zoo are after the human penguin to traffic him with his brother and then they got lost in a forest and older gays tried to help them and now they're being rescued by a spirit all while falling in love and trying to get a hold of the panther's predator instincts??? This is PitBabe 2. This is exactly the same level of brainfuck. And just like I was here for the furry men with a traffic plotline, I'm here for the furry teenagers with a traffic plotline. Nothing changed. dsksjdksjd Curious to see where it's gonna go!

[a-killer-obsession]

🔞 Minors DNI 🔞

A search for a rumored Vegapunk weapon leads the Kid Pirates to an unexpected new crewmate, with a bloodlust that rivals their own and an incredible power.

CW: Please check AO3 for all current warnings, but general warning for smut, slow burn, serious gore, and really dark themes. AFAB reader, she/her pronouns.

Masterlist || AO3 || Chapter 1

Chapter 38 - Hea-T Go Home

Heat helps you with a painful problem, and Kid pulls his head out of his ass

Word Count: ~3.5k

Taglist: @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @tremendoushorsepatrolgoth @iggy5055 @eyes-ofhell

A/N: uh.. had to add lactation kink to the tags cos of this one. Sorry/you're welcome?? Also don't deal with mastitis this way lmao, it's an old wives tale, some people swear by it but new research suggests other methods are safer. Probably just see a dr, tbh.

You could see the body of Dawn's mother laying on the rocks, red pouring from her body, limbs in unnatural positions, her eyes staring straight at you, boring into your very soul, making your blood run cold. The waves lapped at her misshapen body, her blonde hair almost glowing against the dark water under the half moon. “THIEF!” she suddenly screamed up at you, making you almost fall to meet her as you lost your footing for a moment, dirt and stone falling from the tall cliff and dusting her body. “YOU TOOK MY BABY! YOU STOLE HER, YOU KILLED ME AND YOU STOLE HER! YOU'LL NEVER BE HER REAL MOTHER! BARREN WHORE, NO WONDER HE DOESN'T WANT YOU!”

Her body flickered, as though it was hologram, and suddenly you were looking down at your own body, lilac strands stained scarlet as they bobbed in the rise and fall of the ocean. “It should have been you,” you spoke, cold pink-grey eyes filled with fury, “you should have died, they're all better without you”

Heat hovered over you as your eyes opened, a strained gasp escaping you as you struggled to catch breath. He was straddling your waist, careful not to put any weight on it, your wrists held firmly against your chest by his warm hands. The skin on your chest under them stung like you'd been clawed by a feral cat, your lungs heaving with every inhale and exhale that came hard and fast. You were hyperventilating, you realised. Heat made exaggerated movements with his mouth, trying to get you to follow his breathing pattern, trying to get you to slow your rapid breaths. You focused on his perpetually sad face, his dark eyes full of concern as they stared down at you, his expression relaxing as you finally synced your breathing with his. He let go of your wrists, flopping back to lay beside you and pulling you in close to his chest as a sob wracked through you, followed by more as tears began to spill. He held you close throughout, pressing kisses into your hair and rubbing soothing strokes up your back till you found the strength to calm down.

“You're okay now, Yin,” he soothed, “I'm right here. You're safe, you're loved, you're held”

You nodded in affirmation against his chest, his skin bare but wet with your tears. Your chest was burning, not just from what you realised were self inflicted scratches, but from the sheer pressure of milk in your breasts.

“Heat, it hurts,” you whimpered. He let you fall back a little so he could examine you. Your chest was red with grazes, but you hadn't drawn blood. Your tits were another problem on their own though, the left one entirely swollen and inflamed, almost solid under the pressure. He pressed the back of his hand to your breast and pulled it away quickly.

“You're burning up,” he replied, full of worry, “fuck, hang on”

He practically leapt from the bed, taking one moment to glance at Dawn and check she was still soundly asleep, before rummaging through his shopping bags. It'd only been a few hours since he'd gotten back, you'd barely both been asleep before your pained whines had woken Heat, finding you clawing at yourself and weeping in your sleep as the nightmare plagued you.

He found a book he'd been searching for and started flicking through it as he returned to the bed, brows furrowed in concentration as his finger ran down the index page in search of a relevant term before turning to the indicated page. “I think it's mastitis,” he told you after a moment of silent reading, still scanning the page, “it says it could happen if you didn't fully drain the milk or uh bacteria from baby's mouth or stress, there's other causes but I think those are most likely. It says we should drain it to relieve the pressure but you probably need antibiotics.” He sighed and put down the book, pinching the bridge of his nose, “we're gonna have to go see Mohawk. We can't just go back to the hospital here, the sudden baby is too suspicious and you can't walk there on your own while I stay with her, you're too delicate right now. It'll have to be Mohawk”

“Maybe we just start with draining and then see how it goes?” You suggested. You didn't want to go back to the ship till at least Kid apologised, maybe you could wait it out and he'd crack before you absolutely needed to see Mohawk.

“Okay,” he said nervously, “um… it says the best way to drain is with a pump or baby, but uh..”

“We don't have a pump, and baby is asleep and not hungry,” you realised, finishing his train of thought.

“Well, we do have a pump, the store clerk told me you'd need it,” Heat explained, “but it has to be charged, and all the parts need sterilising”

“I can't wait any longer,” you whined, “it hurts so much”

Heat could see the pain all over your face, and it broke his heart. He had to help you. Was it something he desperately wanted to do anyway? Perhaps, but he wasn't going to just steal from a starving kid. But you needed it, so he was allowed, right? Anxiously, and doing his best to not seem overeager, he brought his mouth down to your breast. You let out a gasp as he took it in his mouth, groaning around it as he suckled and the first warm spurts of sweet, thin milk coated his tongue. With a hand on the back of your head, he guided you to lay flat, the hand moving to caress your other breast, just breezing over it, he didn't want any of your milk to escape unless it was for his consumption.

He felt suddenly possessive of you, making small satisfied growls as he suckled, his hips rolling against the bed almost on their own as his erection grew. His eyes had fluttered closed as he drank you, hand sliding down your front over your bandages, running over the front of your panties. He knew he couldn't enter you, but fuck did he want to. He wanted to be deep inside you, pistoning you with his throbbing cock and feeling your cunt squeeze around him while you came, all the while drinking down your warm life giving liquid. You'd made it for him, he thought greedily, only him. Killer hadn't tasted you like this, it was all for Heat. You whined as his hand ran under the waistband of your panties, touching you with every bit of care he could manage, you back arching as his tongue lathered your breast and nipple, pulling every drop of milk you had. He wondered if this feeling was why you were always so keen to swallow his cum, the lewd and arousing notion of consuming fluid made by another. No wonder he loved eating you out. Fuck, that made him wonder what other kinks he didn't realise he had.

He almost choked as a thick glob of solidified milk hit his tongue, his eyes growing wide as you let out a whine, and suddenly it was like a dam wall had broken, your milk practically gushing into his mouth now that the clogged milk duct was open, milk escaping the corner of his mouth and dribbling down his chin as he greedily suckled. He ground his cock hard against the mattress, his peak so close, but you quickly found a way to break him, running your hand through his hair and moaning “good boy”.

He came with a deep groan, mouth unlatching from your breast to take a heavy breath, face pressed to your collarbone as his hips rolled and he rode out his high. All he could manage were stuttered curses, his pants soiled and sticky with cum. You pulled his hand from your pants, it'd felt nice but the doctor had told you strictly no sexual activity, warning that the strain of an orgasm on your muscles could cause injury. Quietly he returned his mouth to your breast, draining you completely before moving to the other. It wasn't swollen like the first, but what kind of man would he be if he didn't drain it anyway, just to be sure, for the good of your health of course. You happily let him continue, laying sleepily against the pillow as he suckled, your eyes heavy with sleep thanks to your nightmare and the contented feeling of Heat's mouth lavishing your chest. At some point you drifted off, Heat still fondling and suckling from you, a far more pleasant dream taking you this time.

Hours had past when you woke, and you sat up with a startle, on one part immediately concerned that you'd neglected Dawn, on the other confused that Heat was no longer beside you. Soft splashes of water and singing in a deep, scratchy voice caught your attention, coming from the bathroom where the light was on and the door was open. You didn't recognise the song, but you recognised Heat's voice. You'd only ever heard him sing a few times, when he was drunk enough to not care how hoarse he sounded, but it was definitely him.

You quietly slipped out of bed, taking wobbly steps to the bathroom door where a soothingly domestic scene was unfolding. Heat had some sort of pop up bucket thing setup on the bathroom counter, holding Dawn carefully in it with one hand so she wouldn't slip below the water, the other hand carefully tipping water over her hair with a cup to wash away soapy suds, the blonde tuft of hair slicking down with the water. Dawn was content trying to eat her fist, Heat's singing pausing for a moment so he could giggle at her and say “is that a tasty widdle hand?”

“You two look the picture of a family,” you said softly as you walked up behind them, wrapping your arms around Heat's waist.

“I didn't know you were awake,” he blushed, doing his best to finish washing Dawn but entirely distracted by the way you were nuzzling your cheek against his back. It was still bare, you guessed that was probably by design so he wouldn't get his shirt wet, though there was a small towel slung over his shoulder.

“Mmm, thanks for letting me sleep,” you mumbled, “does she need feeding?”

“Nah, gave her a bottle of formula,” he replied, “I hope that's okay, I was gonna ask but you looked so exhausted and the book said the mastitis was probably making you even more so. How are you feeling?”

“A little tender, but mostly okay,” you replied, “formula is fine, I never had much chance to think about it anyway, I just went straight to breastfeeding cos it's all I had”

“I got everything washed and sterilised, and the pump should be charged by the time you next feed,” he reported as he opened the towel a little and lifted Dawn to his chest, wrapping her in the soft white fabric. You let his waist go so he could move and giggled as he turned and revealed the towel was in fact hooded, with a tiny embroidered animal face and little bear ears.

“Cute!” You squeaked, absolutely overcome by how sweet Dawn looked with the little ears and her little wide eyes.

“She should be awake a little longer if you wanted to spend time with her,” Heat said as he moved back to the main bedroom where you saw now he'd laid out a padded changing pad on the dresser, nappy and clothes already set next to it, “She's been awake for a little bit. I fed her and changed her nappy, and we had some tummy time, the book said she needs a few minutes on her tummy a couple times a day, and then she did possibly the most explosive shit I've ever seen in my entire life, so we had a bath didn't we Dawn?”

“Ah, the infamous blow out,” you laughed, getting comfortable back in bed so Heat could hand her to you when he was done dressing her. You weren't supposed to lift anything, baby included, for another week or so. “Thanks for dealing with it, baby”

Heat blushed almost neon pink at the pet name, quickly finishing dressing Dawn and bringing her over to you. He was still pink as you took her, and you squinted playfully at him. “You okay babe?”

“Yup! I'm great!” He quickly replied, fleeing to the bathroom before the pink on his face could spread any further. You heard water draining as he emptied the little collapsible baby bath, and you realised from where you were that you could see his reflection in the mirror. You couldn't help but smile fondly at the goofy grin he had on his face, before his eyes flicked up to the mirror and met with yours. You stayed like that for a moment, just staring at each other, and it made you feel warm. You could feel his love, even from there, even through a reflection, and it made your smile grow even wider, his own grin reflecting yours.

A knock at the door ruined the moment, Heat's head perking up and looking at the door suspiciously as he approached it.

“Heat, I know you're in there, open up,” a gruff, frustrated voice came from the other side. Heat looked at you with a scowl, the sour expression not for you but for the man on the other side of the door. “I'm not here to fight, I just wanna talk” the voice continued.

“Unless you're here to apologise, you can get fucked,” Heat spat back. The uncharacteristic reply caught you off guard.

There was a heavy sigh from the other side, and a small thunk like a forehead was being rested against the door. “I am,” the voice replied, “I fucked up, please let me in. I can't just sail out of here without you, you're family, both of you. All of you, I mean”

Heat let out a sigh of his own and looked to you for confirmation. You gave him a short nod and readjusted your hold on Dawn, making sure she was held firmly in case the temper of your visitor changed. He threw on a shirt, and there was a click as Heat unlocked the door, opening it slowly to reveal Kid, his head hung in shame as he looked back at the firebreather.

“Package deal, Kid,” Heat reminded him as he stepped aside for the captain to enter, “her and the baby come with us, or I don't come back at all”

“I know,” Kid replied softly, “please come back. I know I said some fucked up shit, but I was just angry, I didn't mean it. I'm- I'm sorry Yin. I failed you as a captain. It's my job to keep you safe, nobody should be hurting you, not even the first mate, certainly not yourself. I should have been there too. I know I'm not your boyfriend or whatever but I'm your captain and your friend and I should have been there to support you when you were hurting. If you want this baby, I'm not gonna fight you on it. I know it's… I know it's not his but she's still yours so I'm still gonna treat her like any uncle should. If you can forgive me, and come home. The ship doesn't feel right without you guys”

You stared blankly at him for a moment. You hadn't honestly expected him to apologise, you were prepared to leave the ship for good. He had his soft side, you knew that, but he was also stubborn and arrogant and pig headed. It shook you a little, to hear him be so genuine and forlorn.

“And… Killer?” You asked hesitantly.

“He wants you back, needs you back,” Kid sighed, “but he knows it's not gonna happen overnight. He knows he fucked up, he's doing what he can right now to make things right for when, if you come home”

“He pulled his head out of his ass then?” Heat tsk'd.

“I think you did a pretty good job of pulling it out for him,” Kid replied, “he told me what you said. It was all true, and he needed to hear it”

“You talked to him?” You asked Heat.

“More like chewed him out,” Heat sighed, sitting on the edge of the bed next to you, “I bumped into him when I went for your mask”

“I know it means fuck all coming from me, Yin,” Kid continued, “but he's sorry, he really is. He probably would have come here with me but he's busy moving all his shit to your old room so you and the baby can have his”

Now that surprised you. “He's… giving me his room?” You asked, confused as to why he would do that.

“You can't fit a cot in that shoe closet,” Kid shrugged, “he said he's gonna keep good on his promise to turn that cupboard in the nav room to a nursery but for now you need the space his room offers. Wire already picked up a crib and he and Double are putting it together. We're just waiting for you three to come home. Mohawk managed to snag an eternal pose to the next island, so we can raise anchor whenever we want, but we didn't want to leave without you all”

It touched your heart to hear they could have already sailed away, but had chosen to stay. That in itself spoke volumes about the situation when you knew Kid was always eager to move along. Every day wasted was just another delay on his plans, and he was a highly impatient man.

Kid stood quietly while you thought about it, awkwardly shifting his weight between his feet. Heat looked at you discerningly, waiting to hear your decision. He would follow you to the end of the earth, he knew that now, so whatever you wanted would be what he went with, even if it meant abandoning the men he'd known as family for the last decade and a half. He'd leave them, for you, such was his love. His eyes widened hopefully though as you took his hand.

“Let's go home,” you smiled softly. He smiled and nodded back, relief washing over him. Kid let out a heavy, relieved breath.

“Thank fucking god, I thought I was gonna have to knock you both out and drag you back to the ship,” he admitted.

“You know you're no match for me,” you tutted. Heat was already up, packing all your things. He looked at the pile, then at you, then he forcibly pulled Kid's metal arm away from his body and started threading shopping back handles over it.

“Oi!” He protested.

“You want us home or not?” Heat scowled, continuing to pile bags up on Kid's arms, “she can't walk that far, she's still recovering from surgery. One of has to carry her, and it ain't gonna be you, you're not gentle enough”

Kid huffed indignantly but stopped his protesting, letting Heat load him up with bags till his arms were at capacity and he had to hold the last few against his chest. Heat really had bought a lot of baby shit.

He did one last check of the room before helping you into some loose pants, sticking your mask on your head and picking you up bridal style, Dawn held securely in your arms. Kid stared awkwardly at Dawn as Heat approached, seeing her in daylight for the first time, her blonde hair now dry and fluffy, her blue eyes wide and alert.

“Why does she look like him?” He asked, almost too quietly to hear, but you heard, and your face turned to anger.

“Do not say that again,” you growled, “she is not his”

“S-sorry,” he stuttered, using his devil fruit to unlatch the door and opening it with his foot so Heat could carry you past. He followed behind you, staring at Heat's back, his mind swimming and busy but at least a little lighter with the promise of bringing you all home.

Killer was on deck as you all returned, watching silently from the sidelines as Heat carried you to his your room, followed by Kid carrying mountains of bags. Just another way he felt he'd failed you, Heat had even had to provide for your baby, that should have been Killer's job. He sighed as he sunk back underdeck, returning to his room, still decorated in purples and yellows as you'd left it, and collapsing onto the dusty, long unused mattress with a heavy sigh.

[NEXT CHAPTER]

[aeligsido]

[WM — September 2024] Prompt 23 — Pensieve.

Rating: G.

TW: none.

Characters: Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, James Potter, Lily Evans Potter, Tom Riddle; heavy mention of the Black family in general.

Additional Tags: reality tv show au; the Black have a reality tv show; press; media article; implied prongsfoot in the article; implied James/Lily/Sirius/Remus in the fic; it is very much a thing in this au tbh; a bit of domesticity.

Summary: Sirius Black Returns: A Black Lives Exclusive!

Words count: 691.

A/N: Heya! I got the idea of this au some time ago and decided to have a bit of fun here eheh. I hope you like it! 💕

@wolfstarmicrofic

read on ao3.

-

SIRIUS BLACK RETURNS: A BLACK LIVES EXCLUSIVE!

Black Lives, the most watched reality TV show first in the UK, then in the world, from Pensieve Production, is well-known, and so is the family the show follows. The Blacks, from the late English nobility, started this project almost fifteen years ago, and it had since been going strong. The shows followed closely Walburga and Orion Black (or as many call them, THE power couple), beloved Alphard Black, Cygnus and Druella Black, as well as frequent apparition from Lucrecia née Black now Prewett and her husband Ignatius. Other usuals guest stars were Arcturus Black, the family patriarch, and the five family children: Bellatrix, Andromeda, Narcissa, Sirius, and Regulus, whom the show started centering itself on.

Andromeda created the scandal nine years ago when, then aged eighteen, she renounced her family to marry a commoner. (Since then, she gave birth to an adorable daughter!) Four years later — and thus five years from now — the heir of the family himself, Sirius Black, stopped appearing on the show. The family at the time told us the sixteen years-old wanted to focus on both his studies and mental health and as such, was taking a much-needed break. Of course, multiple theories spawned following this statement — but need for it no more!

Just this morning, Pensieve Production announced Sirius Black’s return in an upcoming, special, exclusive season!

“It is with great joy that we are welcoming Sirius back with us,” states Tom Riddle, the Blacks’ manager. “We missed him during those years, but we know how important it was for him. And now, he will, if he wishes so, tell you more about it himself!”

We got more details about this exclusive season as well:

“We will follow Sirius and his brother Regulus on a vacation across the Mediterranean,” announced Riddle — to the glee of quite a lot of us, I would assume! “They will be joined by a few friends, some of which are quite familiar to our long-time viewers.”

Some of those friends are already confirmed. As such, we will greet James Potter (Sirius Black’s long-term best friend, and maybe more), as well as Peter Pettigrew, Remus Lupin, and a young lady somes could have forgotten but who appeared a few times in Sirius' last season on the show, Mary Macdonald.

Riddle teased—

“What are you reading?”

Remus startles, his phone almost falling out of his hands; Sirius, thankfully, catches it. Not thankfully, he starts reading the article — and groans rather unnecessarily, if anyone asks Remus.

“How many times did I tell you not to read those?”

“It was in my recommendations?” he tries innocently.

Sirius sends him an unimpressed look.

“James!” he hollers, and then waits; from somewhere on the ground floor of their house, James hollers right back.

“Yes?”

“We need to keep Remus away from Internet!”

“Hey!” he protests, but Sirius just drops a kiss into his hair with a smirk and no answer.

“Okay!” unhelpfully agrees James; it would be it if Lily hadn’t appeared in the doorway, then, a pile of her favorite fluffy towels in her arms.

“What for?”

Sirius waves Remus's phone as if its answer enough. Lily reaches for it, checks the screen, and sighs.

“Oh, Remus,” she says with a soft, concerned tone he hates having directed at him.

“I just wanted to read a few comments,” he mutters.

“It’s my first time and even I know it’s a bad idea,” she notes, handing the phone back to Sirius. They exchange a look, and she nods decidedly before leaving again.

“Easy to say, everyone loves her,” Remus mutters some more. He has grown disaccoutumed of the show and all it entails over the years, perhaps. He’s feeling almost anxious now.

Sirius drops on the bed beside him, putting an arm around his shoulders and embracing him protectively.

“And we love you,” he reminds him softly.

Remus burrows himself against his chest, feeling Sirius’ heartbeat under his ear. “Yeah, I know. I love you too.”

“Good.” Sirius kisses his hair again, tender and fond, and Remus wants to bottle it and drink it every time he feels down.

[vacantgodling]

i'd like to say that this year was more of a planning year than a writing year; not to say that i didn't write; but i spent a lot more time on outlining, worldbuilding, and a new skill that i've added to the fold -- conlanging(!!). because of that, i didn't hit all the goals i made last year but tbh that's aight. without further ado tho:

TOTAL WORDS WRITTEN [january 2024-november 2024]

111,535 (as of 11/15)

once again, if this was all in one place, that would be a full novel but. speaking of full novels:

2024 GOAL STATUS

❌ reach 150k words written overall ✔️ finish cage like it’s GOING to happen i will it ❌ finish the first draft of paramour!!!

so i'm only 1 for 3 and tbh i'm not that mad about it. finishing cage back in february was one of the biggest writing highlights of this year because i showed myself i could do it, i CAN finish something of novel length if i really put my mind to it.

(and yeah, i really did go and get it printed out lmao)

and more than just the accomplishment of writing 82k in one piece, it's also helped me really understand and work out what systems and processes i need to have set up prior to writing to make it work. this is why outlining has been such a huge undertaking for me this year, in varying levels of success (lmao). having a fully fleshed out outline with the literal beat by beat playout of how i want the story to go helped me TREMENDOUSLY in pushing through cage. even on chapters that were rough for me, having that outline to fallback on made it so much easier to stick to a every week one chapter system. and its something i plan to implement with my original wips too.

the only issue is, because original work inherently requires more work since there's no framework except what's in your own head... its been a bit slower for me writing wise. BUT next year i will be operating out of a desperate need for whimsey so i think i'm going to make my goals much.... less stressful than i did this year.

2024 WRITING HIGHLIGHTS

FINISHED CAGE! biggest accomplishment in my life right now tbh. seriously if you haven't and you have any interest in overwatch at all go read it and leave me nice comments while you're at it lol. technically i am working on the interlude piece between cage and its eventual sequel, schism, but that's been kinda slow going as i don't have much motivation to do it right now. first chapter of it is also up on ao3 though -> interlude - quiet

created a conlang??? in a very bizarre turn of events i have created a conlang for my wip with the working title HE WHO SMITES THE SUN (under the tag #s: ph). the language itself is called dzonime'si and if you want to see more of that process check out my #ren fights linguistics tag :)

finished the entire "first draft" of my wip betwixt thumb and forefinger--which is actually an idea that i only thought of this year so that's fun. for the uninitiated it is a gothic reimagining of twilight but with a shit ton more body horror and prochoice commentary. the reason first draft is in quotations is because it is technically a 16k word long outline that i am considering draft one. draft 2 is literally me going bullet point by bullet point and expanding the draft into something more akin to prose. i do have the first few paragraphs of draft 3 started, which is where i'm going to attempt actual prose writing for the first time. pretty much, btaf is becoming a very lengthy process but it's my first "test drive" on how this new outlining to written prose for my original projects will go. i've just gotten... distracted by other wips since then.

2025 GOALS

to be honest, i don’t know if i have many hard goals for next year. mostly because of *gestures at the state of the world right now* :))))))) it’s blatantly obvious that when things are tough, it becomes more difficult to do the things that you want to do that bring you joy. amid trying to just survive the day to day, there’s also my desires to get more involved in bothering the FUCK out of my senators, looking into ways i can be more involved locally (without burning myself out) and just generally trying to not let the state of the world get me down.

i think there’s a lot of things i want to do. i want to finish a bunch of outlines for my wips becuase i can’t tell you how REWARDING it’s been to be able to fully just go back and reread btaf’s outline whenever i like (and have the AMAZING multi leave comments on it like that’s actually another huge highlight of this year thank u friend 💛) and get excited about telling this story all over again. it motivates me to keep doing it! i'd also love to finish btaf's draft 2, maybe try and finish interlude - quiet etc. but—long story short. i don’t think i’m going to put myself on for any particular goals. next year is going to be about celebrating wins in any and every capacity. so all i wanna do is give myself wins.

looking forward to seeing y’all next year, crying about our ocs as usual

💛 ren 💛

[hermiola]

Writer's Meme, 2024 Edition

I've been tagged by @turquoisedata 💜

-------------------------

How many works do you have on ao3?

14. 6 Good Omens + 8 MCU, but we have to go back to 2014 and 2016 for those. I also used to publish on an Italian fanfiction archive where I have 70 more fics (I went back to check and count them after approximately two thousand years and HOLY SHIT, I didn't remember them being so many! My first fic is more than 20 years old WTF).

What’s your total word count?

150.000 words on AO3. But I'm guessing it's waaay higher than that (the Italian archive doesn't show the word count 🥲).

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

My GO fics have the most kudos (given the popularity of the fandom + the fact that they're written in English and not in Italian). I have 6, so the top 5 is basically all of them:

Take a Little Love From Me (Pretty Woman AU)

Final Breakthrough (Now!) (Post-Season 2 Fix-It)

Crazy Little Thing (Called Love) (Non-S2-complying silliness)

When Hell Freezes Over (Human AU with magician!Crowley and critic!Aziraphale)

Let There Be Rock (First meeting after 1967)

Do you respond to comments? Why/why not?

I do! I don't get that many, so it's not overwhelming, and I just like to respond. As I said somewhere else, my experience in the GO fandom has been mostly a solitary one (recently not so much though!) so I just like to interact whenever I can.

What's the fic you've written with the angstiest ending?

I'm going to consider only the GO ones because I feel like the others have been written by another me entirely (also I'm not sure I even remember them).

So it's definitely Let There Be Rock.

What's the fic you've written with the happiest ending?

I'd say all of them, but Take a Little Love From has a proper epilogue and everything. I guess their happiness has more space there than elsewhere.

Do you write crossovers?

I have in the past, but not anymore.

Have you ever received hate on a fic?

Not that I know of.

Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Not really. I LOOOOVE reading smut (especially in those chonky slow burn fics), but I can't bring myself to write explicit smut for some reason. I love describing the tension and the heat of the moment (I love UST so much I'm going to marry it tbh - like nothing makes me happier/hornier than two people who want to fuck each other but can't for some reason - am I edging myself? IDK) but when it comes to my own writing I feel like spelling out the details just ruins the moment. I do think it's my ace showing in some way. But, anyway, I read the filthiest filth so this definitely doesn't apply to reading. And who knows, maybe one day I'll try! I'm not ruling anything out.

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

I don't think so?

Have you ever had a fic translated?

No, but I used to translate HP fics back in the day (from English to Italian). We're talking 20 years ago. And it's funny when you think about it, because I translate novels for work now 🤣

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Yes, always back in the day with HP. I'm still friends IRL with the girl I wrote them with (we actually met because of HP) (this is as good a time as any to say FUCK YOU JKR).

What's your all-time favourite ship?

This depends on the hyper-fixation of the moment. I cannot multitask with my OTPs. If I get obsessed with a new one, I retire the previous one. Like I could split my life into different time periods just based on my OTPs. Ron/Hermione has been my personality for YEARSSSS, but now I can barely think about HP without cringing. Another BIG ONE was Clint/Natasha from the MCU (which explains my look here on Tumblr), but the MCU as a whole has gone a bit stale for me (with few exceptions). And now it's all about Crowley/Aziraphale - it's so bad I had to unretire from fanfiction writing after almost 10 years LOL.

(I like many other ships but not to the point of *obsession*).

What's a WIP that you want to finish but don't think you ever will?

The only one I can think of is a Clintasha Actors AU, but I don't think I have it anymore, and I wouldn't finish it even if I had.

What are your writing strengths?

Dialogues and banter are my favourite things to write, and I think it shows.

What are your writing weaknesses?

English is not my first language, so my writing lacks variety I think. I feel like I have always the same phrases stuck in my head, so it's probably kind of repetitive, especially when compared to some of the fics I read. (But when I started writing my first GO fic in English I wasn't even sure I could *actually* do it, so I'm proud of myself either way!).

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

I think it's okay! I personally would ask a native speaker to help me (if possible) instead of going the Google Translate route. Being Italian and watching/reading almost exclusively in English I know how silly it sounds when the characters start speaking your language and they're saying nonsense (but no harm done even in this case, imo, especially in fanfics. In movies, though, it's just lazy!).

What was the first fandom you wrote for?

HP, back in 2004 (welp).

What's a fandom/ship you haven't written for yet but want to?

None, thankfully. If I'm writing fanfic it means I'm in the late stage of hyperfixation and I don't wish that on myself if I can help it. Like I used to read 50+ books a year before GO S2. It's bad!!!

What's your favourite fic you've written?

Take a Little Love From Me mainly because it's the one I've spent more time with.

Tagging some people if they feel like doing it (but no pressure at all!): @beerok23 - @sabotage-on-mercury - @gaiaseyes451 - @leviosally

[squarebracket-trickster]

9 People you want to know better

Huge thank you to uhhh *checks drafts* @words-after-midnight - their post here, @bluberimufim - her post here, @touloserlautrec - his/their post here

Currently reading: City of Bones by Cassie Clare. I never read it during it's peak when I was literally the right age demographic and I feel like I missed out. It's not the strongest writing in the world but I am enjoying it so far. It's been interesting to go back and reread a bunch of "older" YA - like pre-2016-ish. There is so much more filler, banter, character moments than in the post-2016 stuff, especially post-2019. Like it was right around that time that publishing shifted to the "everything has to advance the plot and be super fast paced" mentality. And tbh... I like the old stuff better. It spawned larger fandoms with more staying power - I mean, how many post-2019 booktok popular books have more than 100 fanfics on AO3? I think I'm not the only one who misses the slower, more character focused YA.

Last song I listened to: Avril Lavine's Keep Holding On was on the radio while I was driving home from work. 10 year-old me knew all the words. 20-something me still does.

Currently watching: I haven't watched any TV or movies is so long oh my gosh. But! I did go see murder mystery play with my friend last Friday night!

Current fic I'm reading: [do I confess to having a secret whump blog here? My anxiety is pretty bad rn. Which means I have been devouring and regurgitating whump like no tomorrow. I have read and written so much holy]

Current hyperfixation (changed from obsession because I don't use that language. I do, however, have ADHD): yeah... uhhh... whump.

Favourite colour: Green, specifically the shade of the underside of a maple leaf caught in the sun. But I am also very partial to any rich blue or pink.

Spicy, sweet, savory, or salty? A little bit of everything. I like it when dishes are made with really high-quality ingredients that speak for themselves and don't need to be disguised with sugar, spices, or salt.

Relationship status: *cries in single* where meet men in my city????

Last thing I Googled: hypothermia whump... yeah... (also apparently I googled the word lapel to make sure it meant exactly what I thought it meant)

Song stuck in my head: OH I am the QUEEN of getting shit stuck in my head! I once had "In Flanders Fields" the POEM - not even a song - stuck in my head in both English AND FRENCH. It wasn't even November... Currently, it's the "I had a little turtle, his name was tiny tim" song... it's been days help

Favourite food: Kiisseli (a Finnish stewed berry dessert.) I am also partial to a very juicy steak.

Dream trip: I wanna go to Ireland so bad. But I need to know some Irish person willing to teach me harp techniques first.

Gently tagging (you don't have to answer all of these. I just chose to combine three tags in one): @nacricissa *ahem*, @malapertmarquess, @ditzydisko, @dyrewrites, @toribookworm22, @steh-lar-uh-nuhs @blackrosesandwhump, @beloveddawn-blog, @unhingednovelist

[olderthannetfic]

Hi hi! I have a question and I apologise if it's impertinent but I really didn't have anyone else to ask. I'm new to ao3 and I'm still figuring out how it works. The problem is this- when I look up a character x reader, I'll see the tag included in many works that have oneshots but since it's a side character, more often than not the oneshot for the character hasn't been written and the tag has been there for months. Is it okay to do that or is it tagging something incorrectly? They say they'll write one eventually but they never do, y'know? To me it kind of feels like they're just trying to reach a wider audience but because of this I can't even filter tags and I have to manually search through the book to check if the character is included, especially when the chapters are titled only by numbers :')

Is it okay to tag things in advance like that?

--

Oh boy...

Wattpad refugees do tend to use AO3 "wrong", sometimes in ways that break the rules and sometimes just in ways I find annoying and against typical AO3 culture.

I'm assuming you are coming from Wattpad based on you calling a work or a fic a "book", which is a very, very Wattpad thing to do.

I'm assuming they are coming from Wattpad given the bad behavior you're describing and the fact that they're a x reader writer.

--

So, here's the thing, if you start writing a fic and there's any amount of the actual fic, even if it's pretty short and bad or in a weird format or whatever, it's still a valid fanwork. Most of the time, AO3 leaves it to the author to decide how to tag (aside from a very few things like death threats in the tags or failing to use the required archive warnings).

AO3 won't stop someone from tagging a future pairing that hasn't appeared yet.

--

But "books" of "oneshots" are such an obnoxious Wattpad thing. This is a completely stupid use of AO3 from the "Please send me prompts" part that is usually in there to the way that unrelated fics are smashed together.

It's not against the rules, but it's a crappy use of AO3 befitting of n00bs.

Sadly, old hands at AO3 also make shitty works that are unrelated stories mashed together. They're often a whole set of kinktober fics or something where the trope tags and the ship tags are accurate, but you can't tell which ones go with which ones without searching the whole fic.

We regularly complain about that on here.

--

A much better way to use AO3 is to make a series titled "My x Reader Oneshots" or "All of my kinktober fics" where each separate story is its own work with its own tags.

My assumption is that this person is using the inaccurate tag both to get more eyeballs on their existing work and because they probably take prompts for that ship or something. (I'm basing this on the kinds of things people say on their oneshot books on Wattpad. Maybe they don't actually take prompts since you haven't mentioned it.)

Some people just don't care that they're annoying others and messing up the tags, but I think some actually don't realize how AO3 filtering works and have no idea this behavior is a nuisance.

On a lot of sites, both Wattpad and algorithm-driven social media, unless a post/work is very popular, it disappears out of sight. Even an inaccurate tag doesn't do that much.

On AO3, one is getting a full list of everything with the tag, going back however far. It's a library catalogue for which you should use accurate data. But this writer is probably thinking of tags more as advertising and a way to get their name out there so readers can follow them pre-emptively. They mean to write the ship in the future, so it's not really inaccurate... (And, tbh, if it were a single work and the ship just hadn't appeared yet, I would agree with them even though those are frustrating too.)

--

So no, they should not do this.

But it's not actually against the rules.

I would mute the annoying people who do this.