#him. i feel like the creeper could be used as like. another side to him hes discovering that he didnt know was there and accepting

[surrender-souls]

thinking about my left behind 60s villain to the creeper proteus

[rafeandonlyrafe]

distant calls

words: 700

warnings: 18+ only!, smut, male masturbation, mentions of p in v sex, like one use of kid, protective!rafe, one mention of violence, kinda creeper!rafe i guess??, dubcon possibly?? not really but just in case!

“hey princess.” rafe smiles when he hears immediately how excited you are.

“hi rafey!” you squeal into the phone, wishing you weren't separated by the distance, forced to talk on the phone instead of in person.

“how was your day pretty girl? what did you do?” rafe asks.

your cheeks blush red at the nickname, never getting used to it no matter how many times he uses it on you. 

“well, it was a port day!” you start to describe your cruise. you really did try to have fun with your parents, but part of you longed to have rafe around, to be back in the obx where he could look after you.

you tell rafe all about the city you stopped in, where you went to shop and a cave exploring excursion that you ended up sitting out to wait on the beach until your parents got back.

you kick your feet up and down, back and forth as you recount everything to rafe. he stays mostly quiet, only letting out a few grunts and light sighs that you suppose is his affirmation that he's listening.

you feel so lucky to have captured rafes interest. you're not dating, haven't done anything at all yet beyond rafe holding your hand when you cross the street, but you're enamored with him. rafe is just as infatuated with you, but he would be damned if he told you, preferring to just keep you smiling and beat up any guys who look at you even a second too long at parties.

“and then we got back on the ship.” you twirl a finger absentmindedly over the blanket as you lay on your stomach on the bed. 

“did you eat baby?” rafe asks, his voice sounding strained.

“yes, of course.” you nod quickly despite rafe not being able to see you. “we went to the buffet and i got a chicken salad and then i even got dessert!” your exclaim, proud of yourself. “i got vanilla ice cream with sprinkles.”

“that's good, kid.” rafe let's out another sigh that has you pressing your ear into the phone, listening intensely to hear a weird somewhat wet sound that you can't place.

“keep-” rafe gasps out. “keep talking baby. tell me about-” he has to pause again as he grunts. “tell me about tomorrow.”

you instantly lose your suspicion as you let out another squeal. “rafey, you will never believe it!” you explain how you're going snorkeling in an area where people commonly see dolphins and you're really hoping you see them on the boat ride out to the reef.

you giggle with excitement, not realizing what your sounds are doing to rafe.

many hours away, back in the outer banks, rafe is laying on his bed, back propped up against the pillows, one hand holding his phone close to his ear while his other furiously strokes his cock.

it wasn't his intention when you first got on the phone, but hearing your sweet little voice had him pulling his cock out of his shorts.

“oh wow.” rafe says, tacking on a moan at the end that he hopes is disguised by his words.

rafe knows he's going to break the second you get back from your cruise. he's going to pick you up himself and bring you to the closest bed, even if it's a shitty motel. he's not even confident he'll make it that far without needing to take you. maybe the side of the highway will do.

you continue talking away about the itinerary, not a clue in the world that rafe is so close to ending the game you've been playing, the teasing about to come to a wicked end.

“are you in your pajamas?” rafe asks, interrupting you. but he doesn't care. he needs to know more.

“yup.” you say, popping your p’s. “been in my room for like half an hour now. it's so warm even with the ac blasting i'm wearing just a t-shirt.”

it's all rafe needs, the image of you splayed out on the bed with just a t-shirt on, pushed up to reveal your bare cunt and perfect tits. rafe doesn't hold back his sounds as much as he knows he should, grunting as he cums with a final stroke, releasing all over his abs.

“you okay rafey?” you question.

“im perfect, dollface.” rafe says, sighing as he lets go off his softening cock. 

“wanna switch to facetime?” you pout. “i miss looking at you.”

rafe switches without second thought, loving to see the way your eyes widen when you realize he's in bed shirtless, eyes squinting at the sticky white substance dotting his lower half.

taglist: @drewstarkeyslut @forstarkey @f4ll-for-you @dilvcv @drudyslut @jjmaybankswifes-blog @rafescokenostril @jjsmarijuana @seeingstarks @angelofcigs @cece45450 @babygorewhore @vanessa-rafesgirl @michelleisheres-blog @outerbankspov @drewstarkeyswifehoe @cutielando @sourkittie @rafeyslove @rafeinterlude @bellbottombaby @deeaardiary @rubixgsworld @wearemadeofstardust0 @leighbronk @starkeysheart @pradabambie @tobesolovelysstuff @alexiskirkland @rafestar @brioffthegrid @juniebugg @magicalyoura @cokepewpsii @mysticallystilinski @luvdella @aerangi @vogueprincess @auryyz @raysmayhem-72 @thestarlithideout @marvelfanfics1recs @rafesgiirl @dityaadama @chiaraanatra @tobiaslut @drewsephrry @1aarii1

[keigokoutarou]

“Do you like my hips?” Pt. 1.5

Simon “Ghost” Riley x AFAB!Reader

Pt. 1.5 bc I love cliffhangers *smooches*

Find Pt. 1 here! | Pt. 2

Warnings: welcome to my tit talk (literally that’s all that’s here) Suggestive content

Oh you were writhing. Shaking. Beaming with excitement in your seat as you looked at yourself in the review mirror. The ride to base had never felt so fucking long. This 20 minutes used to feel like bliss before you had to deal with the guys but today? You were sure the speed you traveled was considered reckless.

Pulling up to the gate, you stopped for the MP to check your I.D.

“No camos today again sergeant?” The MP asked, trying so hard not to eye your chest.

“Another maintenance day.” You shrugged. “Gotta get the buggies in good shape before our next mission.”

“Yes ma’am.” He smiled. “Have a good one, Sergeant.”

Oh, I will. You thought to yourself as you waved him off and headed toward the yard as you and soap called it.

Pulling in, you noticed a few other cars and began counting them out.

Price’s Raptor, Gaz’s AMG and Soap’s old FJ. You groaned in annoyance.

“If he doesn’t show today, I’m going to lose it.” You grumbled, pulling your keys and sliding out of your rebuilt rx-7 before shutting and locking the door behind you.

You almost stomped your way through the yard to the last set of buggies that needed attention.

“Swear I could hear you coming down the highway in that thing.” Soap laughed, rubbing his hands on a greasy towel.

“Funny, I didn’t think she was loud enough.” You smirked, following Soap back to the one he was working on.

“We’re about done, just need to do two more oil changes.” He sighed, rubbing his forehead to clear the beads of sweat.

“I can start on one then.” You nodded your head.

“I laid everything out already but um, don’t want to like cover up first?” He raised an eyebrow, lifting his hands up to his chest. “Lieutenant seemed pissed on Tuesday about it.”

“Oh did he?” You quirked an eyebrow. “What makes you say that?”

“Heard him bitching to himself about you ‘flaunting’ all over base after you left.” Soap shrugged.

“Seems like he just needs to get over himself.” You giggled.

“Or he needs to get laid.” Soap chuckled along side you.

“Is he even coming today?” You threw in, silently thanking Soap for leaving the opening.

“He’ll be in shortly. Said he was meeting with Alejandro, the guy we have our new mission with.”

“Ah.” You nodded. “I’ll get started then. Wouldn’t want lieutenant pouty to have my ass.”

“I dunno, he might want to.” Soap winked, turning his back to you and returning to his work.

“Oh you have no idea.” You mumbled to yourself before heading toward the truck.

Time had flown by since you laid on the creeper and rolled yourself up under the buggy with tools in hand.

“Ah, fuck.” You groaned as the bolt to the oil pan fell straight into the drip pan with oil spouting out over top of it. Rolling your eyes, you huffed and dropped your wrench and socket beside you before leaning over to look for the bolt.

“Little shit.” You hissed at the little metal knob for falling instead of staying in the socket. You leaned the opposite way, dropping into a random pan you had found to hold anything important and prevent them from rolling away.

Laying back on the creeper again with a huff, you looked at the engine oil staining your hand and like a light bulb switched, you were filled with a genius idea.

“Whoops.” You giggled to yourself as you wiped the oil on the front of your shirt and purposely made sure a smear or two landed on the tops of your breasts. “Wonder how that got there.”

Evil it was and evil you were. Maybe you had started this deadly war, you thought to yourself as you waited for the oil to drain, but Simon made his move and it would be wrong not to engage in such a fun game of chess.

You were impatient as time passed, closing up the oil pan as it finished draining. On the last turn to tighten it with all your might, you heard your favorite sound.

“She should be around here somewhere.” You heard a deep voice break the every day noise of the base.

It was your beckoned fucking call. You smiled, checking your cleavage to make sure it was ample in its beauty before looking to the sides of you to spot Simon’s signature walk.

To your left, you noticed him approaching from the direction Soap was in. Beside him you noticed another set of legs and you realized that it must have been Alejandro. Your smile turned from excited to devious in seconds. This was going to be fun.

You waited until the got closer, assuming Simon had seen you since he called out your name.

You pushed yourself off the suspension and slid out from under the buggy on the creeper. You held your hand out to shield your eyes from the sun and to catch a clean look at your Lieutenants face.

He held his hand out to you, offering help to get you up so you could properly greet. You smiled, meeting his eyes with a knowing smirk as he not so shamelessly eyed your chest. This time, he wasn’t subtle. His hand gripped yours tighter than ever and in that instant, you wondered what it would feel like grabbing at the inside of your thighs.

“Sergeant.” Simon sounded so annoyed. You were glad.

“Lieutenant Riley.” You were absolutely beaming.

“I’d like you to meet Colonel Alejandro Rojas.” He gritted his teeth, trying so hard to maintain an even tone.

You narrowed your eyes slightly in a playful way before turning your attention to the man beside him.

“Sergeant F/N L/N.” You smiled, extending your hand for a handshake. “Nice to meet you.”

“Pleasure is all mine.” He might have smiled a little to hard but you knew Simon caught it and that’s all you cared about.

“I’m excited to get a chance to work with you. Captain Price says you’re great with a Lachmann.” You ignored the tall angry man beside you, fully engaging with Alejandro.

“He speaks too highly of me.” Alejandro chuckled.

“I doubt that.” You waved off his comment. “You’ll have to show me sometime.”

Alejandro nodded, fully unaware of the part he played as pawn. Sure it was a cheap move but it was too easy. Too easy to dig the hypothetical knife just a little deeper into Simon’s side.

“Price wanted to go over some finer details with you before tonight’s big debrief.” Simon interrupted. “He’s in the large building over there, I’ll catch up with you.”

Alejandro nodded, bidding you one more small smile before walking off and leaving you with Ghost.

You crossed your arms, being sure to push your chest out just a little more as you turned to fully face him in a challenge as you looked up at your lieutenant.

“Playing dirty now, aren’t we?” His tone was shifting, dare you say to a more angry one.

“Was I?” You played innocent, almost batting your lashes at the man.

His eyes seemed to flash with excitement at the realization that you wanted to play. Not just submit to him because that would be too easy. You wanted to draw out this game with him as long as possible.

“You little minx.” He shook his head, crossing his arms to match your stance.

“Lieutenant Riley, I’m not sure that’s how you should speak to your peers.” You tilted your head to the side. “It wouldn’t be great for team morale.”

He looked at you, eyes darting between each of yours and then squaring with your chest.

“This is a dangerous game you’re playing at, Sergeant.” His voice was even now, smooth and coated in lust.

“Is it now?” You stepped closer to him, looking up through your eyelashes. “If I recall, you’re the one who started this little game of ours.” Your smirk was wicked and he loved it. “I thought about just giving into you because I’m sure you’d just love that… but giving up this soon would be a waste.”

“You look tough now.” His hands fell to his side, making a step to match yours and close the gap. His index finger found its way under your chin, tilting your face up toward him and making your lips part slightly. “I bet I can wipe that cocky smirk right off.”

“Is that so?” You were trying. So. Fucking. Hard. You almost felt like you were shaking with excitement.

“Give me one chance.” When had his face gotten so close? You could almost feel the puffs of air coming through his mask.

He was being blatant now and that earned him a sweet little gasp from your lips.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” His words were now close to your ear, breaking every rule in the book by playing this game with you out in the open. “My quarters tonight. 9 P.M.”

He stepped back, allowing you to breathe. You took an extra step at the snap back into reality.

“I didn’t take you as a beggar, Simon.” You smiled. “We’ll see about tonight.” You waved, turning on your heels in an unknown direction to put distance between you and Simon.

“Fucking hell.” He released a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding as he watched you walk away and out of sight.

[cliophilyra]

Prompts: a quiet night in

Thank you! I'm not sure this is what the prompt was meant to be but this is what came out :)Actually quite surprised `i could do anything bucktommy/tevan I hope you like it and I hope it makes people a little bit happy. I love you guys sm. 🩷

When he comes into the loft the only light visible is the TV, sliding through the endless carousel of promos that shows once the show is finished, and the soft light of the antique extinguisher lamp on the side table by the couch. Tommy is on their new - admittedly unnecessarily large - couch, lying on his side with a blanket over his feet that trails on the floor. He is asleep, hands drawn up to his chest, snuffling occasionally.

It's past four in the morning. Tommy finished a twenty-four shift, six hours before Evan finished his, both of them on ground ops tonight, fighting an eight-alarm multiple structure fire in a warehouse complex downtown.

Evan barely saw him as he focused on the job in front of him. But he can't say he didn't find his glance straying to the name on the back of anyone in turnouts who passed him by.

In the end, when they were damping down the now-only-smouldering building they had been working on, he'd glanced over at the crew coming out of another warehouse, which was very much still on fire, and immediately spotted Tommy. His turnouts were covered in soot, his gas-mask covered his face and a woman in overalls was slung over his shoulder. Her long hair dangling down his back almost covered his name, but Evan realized at once that he doesn't ever need to look at the name. He would know him anywhere. He would know him if he was just a shape in the smoke.

He watched for a moment as Tommy carefully put the woman down and the paramedics swarmed around her. As he stood up and lifted his mask he turned to look in Evan's direction as if he'd called his name. The moment he spotted him his face split into a wide grin, nose crinkling as he gave him a little wave that made Evan grin in reply and pull in a deep breath as he waved back.

"Knock it off," Chim shoved his shoulder in passing with a fond but long suffering sigh.

Then they moved on to other areas of the fire and he didn't see him again before the end of his shift.

Finally home, Evan puts his bag down and walks over to his sleeping boyfriend. For a moment he stands and simply looks down at him, marveling at the warmth that spreads through his chest, like his heart is melting as he watches. They've only been living together for two weeks and a lot of that had been spent on wildfire duty so he's still getting used to how good it feels to see him in his space.

As if he senses he's being watched, Tommy's breathing changes and his mouth curves. "Stop being a creeper," he mutters without opening his eyes. Evan laughs and strokes a hand through Tommy's hair, leaning down to press a kiss to his head.

"Sorry, I'm just…you look good here. I—I like coming home to you."

"Hmmm," Tommy murmurs agreement and stretches his back with a groan, arching it in a way that reminds Evan of things he would very much like to pursue if he was less dead on his feet.

Tommy finally opens his eyes and blinks up at him. "Hey," he says softly.

Evan slides his hand down the side of Tommy's face, curving around his jaw, feeling his stubble rasping against his skin. "Hi baby."

Tommy smiles and turns his head enough to press his lips to Evan's calloused, rough palm.

"What time is it," he asks, voice gravelly with sleep and smoke.

"Four-ish," Evan replies.

Tommy groans and reaches out, grabbing Evan by the waist, big hands pulling him forward and down to fall on top of Tommy with a slightly embarrassing squeal. Tommy laughs at him and twists them so he's lying mostly on top of Evan. He wraps his huge arms around him tighter and presses his face against Evan's chest like a contented cat.

Evan smiles, putting his arm around Tommy's broad back. He looks down and shakes his head in mock-disbelief. "No one would believe me even if I showed them a picture," Evan says, carding his fingers through his soft curls.

"About what?"

"You. Being so—uh—so cuddly," he says, feeling a bit silly.

Tommy raises his head, looking up at him. His brows are knitted and there's a faint flush on his cheeks under the creases from sleeping on the couch.

"Do you not—does it bother you?" he asks, his eyes sliding away for a moment.

"Does what bother me?" Evan asks, confused.

"Me being…like this…with you? I'm sorry. I know it's not really the image I—"

Evan cuts him off with a kiss, pulling him in with his hands on both sides of his head. Tommy kisses him back and he feels like they are melting into one another, the tension of the day sliding away down his spine as Tommy's weight presses him into the soft couch. When he pulls away he looks up at him and there's a touch of uncertainty still in his eyes. "I don't—I don't give a shit about image Tommy." Evan says softly. "I want you. However you—I want the—the real you. The you you most want to be at any moment. Whatever that is. I—I want that."

Tommy nods and his eyes look a little shiny for a second and a smile pulls at the corners of his mouth as he lays his head back on Evan's chest. "I want that too," he says and Evan grins.

"I love how cute you are when you're sleepy. It's like having a cat."

Tommy huffs a laugh and gives a little wiggle of his shoulders, like he's getting comfortable. Evan's fingertips tingle with the physical rush of joy that floods through him as Tommy squeezes him. He settles his arm around him again, fingers trailing over the warm skin of his lower back under his shirt.

"Y'know, we've got a whole bed upstairs and everything," he says with a grin.

Tommy nods against his chest. "I'm aware."

"You wanna go—"

"It's upstairs Evan. Do you see my dilemma?"

Evan sighs a laugh and reaches down to grab the edge of the blanket that's tangled around Tommy's legs. He pulls it up over them both and tucks it around Tommy's shoulders.

"Just for a bit. We're gonna regret this so much when we wake up and neither of us can move."

"That's a problem for tomorrow us sweetheart."

"Yeah yeah ok. I'm gonna remind you you said that though."

Tommy kisses the side of Evan's neck and buries his head in the crook of his shoulder. He's asleep again in seconds.

Evan combs his fingers through his hair softly and feels the warm puffs of his breath against his neck. His eyes are heavy and he lets the solid bulk of Tommy's body drag him down into sleep. As he goes he lets out a tiny laugh of disbelief because he knows without a doubt he's going to marry this man.

[linkito]

Doc in particular being on Scar's side post-rescue gives me warm fuzzies. Because arguably he did see Scar at his worst and had to hold hold him back, he could have been the strongest voice for Scar coming back "wrong". And sure he saw the trap on Grian's wings but he never saw the hunters themselves so he never saw WHY Scar fought so hard.

This thought lead to another thought of oh, oh Impulse and maybe Pearl are really the only ones who saw both, aren't they? Pearl got a little experience with the hunters and then was evac'ed to where Scar was being feral (tho she may not have been focused on that). Impulse got the opposite, got to see Scar like that and then got to see the hunters and why Scar might be like that.

Gem saw the hunters and sure saw Scar fight, but didn't see Scar on the ship by himself. Cub got Scar out early so didn't see the whole fight. Doc and X never left the ship so they didn't see any of the fight.

Also Mama Cleo, we love her. And I mean, not to dig too deep into them, but depending on if you think people are born zombie hybrids or get turned.... Cleo that got turned? Seeing Scar changed by a world into something he wasn't before? Neither of them feeling like that change is something needing to be fixed? 👀

-🎀

I'm a big advocate for friendship between Doc and Scar, in general and especially in hhau. It's so obvious he has a soft spot for Scar. It's hilarious to watch how often he dashes over to hang out with Scar on stream hehe

And yeah! He saw Scar at his worst, without the context of the battle, but it doesn't change how he sees Scar. Doc is the scary one, obviously. Of course. Duh.

And gosh YEAH that's such a great point about Cleo. I might steal that and make it canon, the idea of it being something they were turned into from a human instead of something she was born as.

Becoming what is deemed as a monster, but owning it, embracing it. No longer wishing to be what she used to be. This is who they are!

Something about this creeper-goat-cyborg and a zombie being some of Scar's closest allies during all of this. Reminding the hermits that "monsters" aren't always what they seem.

[buildheight]

so aim it straight and true

a desert duo jukebox series fic (masterpost): Go Get Your Gun - The Dear Hunter (spotify link)

When Grian had initially agreed--well, perhaps agreed was a stretch--to go with Scar to the desert, he’d figured that if they made enemies, it would mean his early demise. Scar seemed the bumbling type, and his encounter with the creeper, while mostly Grian’s fault, was proof as such. He’d have never expected, sitting on the roof of the sandcastle one night, Scar’s aim with a bow to be so true.

He’d never seen the man so focused. He would draw back the string, and watch the dunes, then snipe a creeper with deadly accuracy.

“Where’d you learn to shoot?” he said, watching the way Scar’s muscles moved under his skin. He was letting Scar get away with not wearing a shirt. For now.

Scar shrugged, and loosed the arrow. It flew clean into a zombie’s chest. He paused before picking up another arrow, staring at the pile between them. Grian had graciously allowed him use of a half a stack of arrows, they needed the resources, thank you very much, and red bloodlust was no excuse for wasting stacks of arrows on hostile mobs. “Would you believe me if I told you I was naturally gifted? Blessed by the gods?” Grian huffed, hiding his giggle, and Scar chuckled. It unnerved Grian how Scar always seemed to know when a joke had landed, even when Grian attempted to be annoyed about it. “Seriously. Don’t remember,” Scar murmured, and notched an arrow, aiming at a husk.

Grian’s chest tightened, his heart fluttering against its cage. “Can you teach me?” he said, and immediately regretted it.

Scar shot the husk, hitting it in the thigh, before turning to Grian. “What, trying to learn ways to kill me?” There was a challenging glint in his eyes. Grian scoffed. “I’m kidding.”

Doesn’t feel like kidding, Grian thought, as he pawed at Scar’s arm. “Just give me the bow.”

Scar obliged. Grian pulled back an arrow, trying to focus on a zombie. Easy targets, hulking and slow-moving. He didn’t miss too badly, but Scar gave him a wheezing giggle anyway.

“You’re aiming wrong,” Scar said, putting a hand on the back of Grian’s neck. He bristled, shrugging to try and remove Scar’s hand, but Scar only tightened his grip, leaning down to put his lips up to Grian’s ear. “Try again.”

Definitely not shaking, Grian notched another arrow.

“Aim up more,” Scar said.

Grian made an incredulous noise. “You don’t even know what I’m aiming at.”

“Just aim up more.”

“You’re not even looking.”

Scar bit Grian’s earlobe gently. “Just aim up.”

Grian aimed down. He could feel Scar smile against the side of his face, the way his breath changed familiarly.

“Do you trust me?” said Scar.

“No,” Grian grumbled.

“Do you mean that?” asked Scar.

Grian aimed his bow more up, and shot the arrow. It hit its mark, square and bloody and true.

[random-thot-generator]

Dirty Little Secret + pt. 3

JOHNNY 'SOAP' MACTAVISH x FEM READER

-

Summary: Johnny shows up out of the blue and gets to meet Aunt Rue. Cue the impromptu come-to-Jesus meeting.

Warnings/Tags: Angst - obviously, Profanity, Sex is mentioned but nothing explicit, Soap's POV, Rue's POV, Reader is taking a moment, Aunt Rue's a good mum, No use of Y/N

(Notes: Again, no smut. We're not there yet, folks. Wanted to get Johnny's side of the story out there, along with Aunt Rue's thoughts on the matter. Just a warning. Edited this to Kickstart My Heart on loop, so if there's a shit-ton of mistakes... my bad. 🤷‍♀️)

Word Count: 2K

-

Johnny felt like the wind had been knocked out of him when he heard your voice behind the counter, but when you suddenly popped into view, it almost brought him to his knees. The only thing that kept him from reaching for you was that horrible, devastated expression on your face. Tucking his hands in his pockets to hide their shaking, he took a hesitant step towards the counter, as if approaching a cornered, wild animal.

"I'm no' here t'cause ye grief, hen," he murmured, trying to make eye contact. "I jus' wanted t'see ya."

You blinked up at him, huffing a breath out of your open mouth. "I didn't think I'd ever see you again," you confessed, sounding dazed. "How did you…?"

Johnny scratched the back of his neck, feeling like a bit of a creeper. "I, uh… I saw ye on the news. Some sort o' festival 'r somethin'."

"The May Day celebration," you mumbled, remembering the news cameraman panning his camera along the row of booths on the boardwalk. "Bloody hell. So… you saw me and just decided to stop by for a visit? After six months?"

Johnny's look turned sour. "It was no' like I knew where the hell ye'd gone off to, now was it? Ye jus' took off without sayin' a bloody word," he replied, his tone low and accusing.

You scoffed, your own expression growing dark. "And how could I have told you, Johnny? It's not like you ever bothered to give me your number, remember?" you fired back.

The bitterness in your tone cooled his anger instantly. "I…" He huffed out a breath, shoulders slumping. "Yer right. Tha's on me." His contrite expression returned. "It was jus' a shock, comin' back an' findin' ya gone, yer flat empty. I was no' expectin' it. Not after…" He blew out a breath, running his hand over his mohawk. "I dinnae ken wha' t'think."

You crossed your arms over your chest, lips trembling. "I'm surprised you thought of me at all. Why did you even go back to my flat? Things not work out with your other bird?"

"Other bird?" he repeated, scowling, looking utterly confused.

Before you could clarify, your aunt pushed through the swinging door from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a towel. Whatever she was about to say died on her lips as her eyes darted between you and Johnny. "Everything alright, love?" she asked you.

"Everything's fine." You dragged your eyes away from him to address your aunt, your tone softening. "I'm sorry 'bout your tea. The box was empty, and then he showed up, and…" You sighed, closing your eyes, shoulders dropping in defeat. "I— I need to go back to the stockroom. Maybe there's another box of oolong back there."

Picking up on the obvious tension and your need to escape the young man, Aunt Rue patted your arm affectionately. "'Course, love. Go ahead. I'll see t'him."

You gave a slight nod, eyes slanting towards Johnny for only a second, but then your chin gave a wobble, and you rushed through the swinging door. He called after you, taking an unconscious step forward, hand reaching out, but you didn't stop. A pained expression crossed his face before he turned and paced a few steps away, raising both hands to rub over his head, holding them there as he blew out a frustrated breath.

Rue pursed her lips, studying him before her eyes cut back to the kitchen door. "So, I take it ya know one another," she drawled.

Johnny turned back around, dropping his arms to his sides. He looked like a whipped pup. "Yes, ma'am. We were… She was my…" A myriad of emotions played over his face before he sighed, remorse evident in his eyes. "Aye. We know each other."

Rue smirked, brows lifting. "I see." She turned to the hot water urns and grabbed a couple of to-go cups. "Tea or coffee, lad?"

Johnny blew out a frustrated sigh. "Dinnae bother, ma'am. I should prob'ly jus' go. Sorry t'have bothered—"

Rue snorted, amused. "Ya ain't gettin' off that easy, lad. Been dealin' with that heartbroken lass for six months. I've got questions, an' you're just the one to answer 'em. So. Tea or coffee?"

Johnny opened his mouth to refuse but didn't have it in him to argue. "Coffee, please. Black with sugar," he mumbled.

Rue hummed in acknowledgment, making them both a strong cup, forgetting about the oolong. She needed all cylinders firing for this one. As she worked, Red finally showed, cheerful as always. He gave Johnny a friendly nod, opening his mouth to greet Rue, but she cut him off.

"No time for chit-chat this mornin', Red," she told him, throwing a couple of rolls into a bag and handing them over. She reached beneath the counter and grabbed his favorite jam packets, then rounded the counter to hand them to him. "On the house, yeah?" she said, ignoring his shocked expression. "Off ya go, then. See ya tomorrow."

Red could do little more than nod as Rue herded him out the door, casting a flummoxed look back as she shut the door and locked it behind him. Reaching for the cups she left sitting on the counter, she handed one to Johnny.

"C'mon, lad. Let's go out back an' have ourselves a wee chinwag."

She led the way to the back exit, checking to be sure you were still inside before motioning him out the door. Walking over to a pair of metal folding chairs leaned against the wall, she grabbed one, nodding for Johnny to take the other, then sat down with a tired sigh. Once, they were both seated, she crossed her legs and looked him over with a critical eye.

"Alright, then. First things first, lad. I'm Rue, her aunt, and you are…"

"John, ma'am. John MacTavish, but ye can call me Johnny."

She nodded, giving him a tight-lipped smile. "Well, it's nice t'meet ya, Johnny." She took a quick sip of coffee and smacked her lips. "Now, let's get down t'brass tacks, shall we?" She sat back and crossed her arms over her lap. "I'm goin' to take a wild guess an' say you're the reason why my girl came runnin' home with her tail between her legs. Not seen her in that bad a shape since her da dumped her on my doorstep, so it must have been serious. How long were ya together?"

Taken aback, it took a moment for Johnny to answer. "I been seein' her fer almost two years, but we were no'… I mean, it wasnae…" He huffed a frustrated breath and scrubbed his hand over his 'hawk. "It's— It's complicated."

Rue rolled her eyes, making a scoffing noise. "Bloody hell, this generation, I swear…" She shook her head. "Just say ya were fuckin', lad. Jesus." She scoffed again. "Complicated, he says…" she muttered.

Johnny gaped at her, surprised by her blunt words. His brows furrowed, an embarrassed look on his reddening face. "It was no' jus' fuckin'," he muttered, sounding defensive. "I cared 'bout her— do care 'bout her."

"Uh-huh. So, what happened, then? What would send my girl runnin' back to the one place she worked so hard to escape, hm?"

His lips parted, but he didn't have an answer. Eyes darting back and forth, he searched for an explanation, a reason why you would just up and leave him without saying anything. He thought it might have been another bloke, but after that last night together, he couldn't bring himself to believe it. So, why? Why did you leave? He had been searching for that answer for the last six months. Finally, he settled for repeating your confusing words from earlier. "She said somethin' 'bout another bird," he said glumly. "Dunno wha' the hell she's talkin' 'bout."

Rue's brows ticked up. "Sure about that? You're a handsome lad. Doubt ya have trouble pullin' the birds."

"No!" he snapped. "I'd never che—." He cut himself off, gritting his teeth in frustration. "There was no other bird," he grumbled out.

His hand clenched into a fist, the other warping the to-go cup, some of the hot brew spilling over his knuckles. Cursing under his breath, he set it on the ground, slinging the hot liquid off his hand. He glared at the back of his hand, then huffed a tired breath, his expression softening. "I dinnae want anyone else. Jus' her." He shook his head, looking lost.

Rue studied him, her head tilting to the side. "She never mentioned you, ya know? Never once spoke your name. I knew she was hurtin'— obviously, but there was somethin' about the way she looked when I'd try to bring it up, like she was... ashamed. 'Course, we've all been fools for love, so I figured some bloke had filled her head with a bunch of pretty words, promisin' her the moon an' stars, then broke her heart, but…" Her eyes narrowed. "Explain to me what 'complicated' means."

A look akin to the shamed face you would always give her now came over his. He started picking at one of his cuticles, studying it with keen interest, his bottom lip jutting out a little.

"When we first started hookin' up, it wasnae a big deal. We'd run into each other at the pub an' end up back at her place." He shrugged but then paused, his eyes growing solemn. "But then, somethin' changed. I'd catch m'self thinkin' 'bout her, like all the bloody time, while I was deployed. Then I'd come home an' find m'self goin' back t'tha' same damn pub, hopin' t'see her, gettin' pissed when she was no' there." He sighed, shook his head. "I finally gave up pretendin' it was jus' a hook up, an' started goin' over t'her place when I was on leave."

"So, you're a soldier, then," Rue said softly.

A grim look pulled the corners of his mouth down. "Aye. A sergeant in the Army. Special forces." He frowned, an inner struggle going on inside his head. "I ken 's no' the best job t'have, no' when ya got a lass waitin' fer ya at home. 'S hard t'make it work, bein' gone so much. Most birds canna hack it, end up callin' it quits. Figured I'd come home one day an' she'd be shacked up wi' some other bloke. Thought that might'a been wha' happened, but... I had t'see fer m'self." A sad expression made his eyes look luminous in the morning sun. "Tol' m'self I should leave her be, let 'er go, but I canna do it."

He sighed, leaned back in his chair and scrubbed at the scruff on his cheek. "I never tol' her how I felt, dinnae think it was fair puttin' tha' on her. Tried no' t'crowd her, dinnae hang about her place, makin' a nuisance o' m'self. Thought I was protectin' her, but it was jus' as much fer me, I guess. Dinnae help."

Rue's heart went out to the poor lad, despite how bloody stupid he was. "Could ya not tell that she loved ya, lad?"

Johnny's brows shot up, his mouth falling open. "She… She loves me?"

Rue sniffed a laugh. "Bloody hell, you really are an eejit, aren't ya?" She shook her head, amazed at how clueless he was. "'Course she loves ya, ya daft numpty." Her eyes grew shrewd as she watched him process the revelation, saw the hope bloom in his eyes.

"So, tell me, Johnny boy. What are ya willin' to do to get her back?"

-

part 2 part 4

[nomsfaultau]

Hybrid AU in exile week where avian instincts can take over to a degree that is almost horrific, erasing someone’s personality and rationality when they’re panicking. First part here.

I swear to GOD the next one is the last. NO MORE CHAPTER MITOSIS

The firelight flickers, enchanting as it sends up spiraling pine-scented smoke into the constellations above. “Woah!” Techno laughs, throwing an arm out to stop Tommy from getting closer to the campfire. “Stay back, feather duster, you’re going to get singed!” 

“How am I supposed to sit at your side if you’re practically inside the fire!” Tommy shoots back. There’s no practically about it; the piglin’s hooves warm themselves on the coals of the blaze, happily toasty. Meanwhile, one accidental brush of feathers and Tommy will go up in flames. Wings ruffling in annoyance, Tommy glances at the ragged pair, irked to once again be held back by them. True, with proper care and time they’ve lost their desolate edge, but the filling out wings only increase his chance of catching fire. 

His fingers itch with the impulse to pull out his feathers. Tommy busies himself with preparing a s’more with Philza. 

He perches on a log next to Philza, the distant fire crackling away. His back is cold as the arctic night presses against the bonfire’s brief shelter, but Philza drapes a large wing around him for warmth. At least his wings aren’t as big as Phil’s, he consoles himself. Tommy takes up less space that way. He’d used to sprawl, pushing to fill the world. But his abuser taught him it was easier to cut away the parts of himself that were too obnoxious for others to deal with. Get out of the way, don’t be a problem and you won’t get what’s coming. He would’ve cut his wings off, too, if he could’ve. Some days he still wants to. But no, it will hurt like hell and Phil and Techno will be upset. He can’t afford that, it’s bad enough how often he’s cussing them out and breaking their stuff. Their irritation runs like an undercurrent, sending alarm bells ringing.  Part of him hates himself for it, begging to appease Phil and Techno, to fawn until he’s forgiven and safe. Part of him is terrified of it, waiting for punishment that never comes.

But another part likes the alarms and screeching panic, because it means he can tell when a situation is dangerous. Because last time he made himself palatable and all it did was chew him up. Tommy’s lost the knack for pulverizing the ugly parts of himself, and he reckons that might be a good thing even if his instincts scream that his friends are going to start hating him. Still. If he did cut his wings off, he could never again feel his abuser’s soft fingers petting his feathers. Maybe if he starts cutting off the parts of him that are easy to love no one will ever take advantage of him the same way. 

Tommy hears the hiss of his abuser’s TNT even if he can’t see it. Automatically he drops to his knees, obediently clawing into soft dirt to make a hole. Phil shouts, an arrow flinging the explosive back, but the thunderous cacophony swallows him all the same, and suddenly he’s drowning in weeks old fear. Tommy is lost in the high-pitched shrieks of a scared chick, chirps ripping out of his throat and panic blotting out his mind. He frantically calls for his abuser to rescue him, and only in a hazy recess of his mind does Tommy remember his abuser is dead and never coming back. 

The first thing he registers when he comes back is the dirt caked under his claws from clawing into the earth. The little splotches of mud from where his tears stain the ground. The dark aegis of Philza’s wings sheltering him, the older avian crouched protectively overhead. Territorial alarm caws pour from him, head frantically whipping as dilated eyes search for a threat to his chick. Great. Now he’s making his stupid instincts Phil’s problem. As if it wasn’t bad enough to be weak and helpless, now he’s triggering Phil’s instincts and robbing him of free will, too. 

“Creeper, guys,” Techno winces. “Just a creeper.” His cautious approach freezes as Philza locks onto him. There’s a tension in his eyes, wary and sad, as he waits for his best friend to attack in an instinct blinded rage. 

But Phil doesn’t, more concerned with covering his chick. The alarm caws cease as he realizes there isn’t danger. Tommy tries to wriggle out from under Philza, but when Philza’s head jerks to stare at him his eyes are still dilated. Worried chirps replace his cawing, pinning Tommy down and checking him over for injuries. Right. He supposes ensuring the chick is safe includes more than just fighting. But he isn’t hurt, the creeper wasn’t anywhere near him. 

The answer comes from Tommy’s own instincts. He clamps down on the first notes of a coo, realizing it’s supposed to assure his guardian he’s alright. But it’s only the trigger for the next phase. The natural next step is to calm the chick. The coo builds up in Tommy’s throat, aching the longer he suppresses it. Nauseous fear tenses him. No. No, please, he can’t go back to that state again. It’s taken so much from him, breaking him into something pliant and pleasant and easy to love. Easy to control. 

Tommy digs his talons into Philza’s arms, clawing in until blood wells up. Snarling and kicking and biting and unlovable and yet it doesn’t save him. It only gets so, so much worse, Philza’s worried chirps giving away to adamant coos, to soft caresses through his thrashing wings. 

“PHIL!” Techno calls, startling forward. “He’s alright, alright? Let him lea-mph!” Philza’s wing smacks him hard, hurtling him back. For a second his eyes meet Tommy’s, and in an instant Tommy knows he could charge right then and there and tear Philza off him, to hold him at bay while Tommy escapes. Techno could rescue him. 

But he won’t. It would cost him too much to fight Phil. 

“Phil, the creeper is dead,” he tries gently. “Come on bro, nothing’s wrong. You’re the one freaking the kid out.” Techno coughs roughly, then breaks into a purr like the crackling churn of a redstone contraption. “See?” he rumbles, “you can stop now, Phil. Stop.”

If anything it just makes it worse for Tommy, yearning strangling him. It hurts so bad to shove his coo down. Tommy, the real Tommy, wants to howl, but the stupid animal inside him is stronger. The world darkens, hazy and hard to reach no matter how he struggles. Vision smearing into something warm and pleasant, Tommy can’t tell if the tender hands running through his hair belong to Philza or his abuser. 

His body automatically relaxes as the soft coo breaks free from his throat. Despair wells in Tommy, but it slips through his hands, his real thoughts fading as artificial calm drowns everything out. 

The hands combing through his hair freeze as the assurance releases Philza from his protective instincts. “Sorry,” Phil croaks. It shatters the spell. His abuser never apologized. He scrambles away, leaving Tommy flat on his back, watching the swirl of constellations overhead. Tommy would like to be angry, but it’s been drained out of him, the dregs of bliss acerbic in his mouth. 

He wants to attack Philza, vaguely. He should. Maybe it would stop this from ever happening again. All he has to do is stop the older avian from caring about him. But the thought of what it would take to make the kind and patient Philza truly despise him makes Tommy feel quite sick if he’s honest. Even now Phil is apologizing, concerned and compassionate and utterly confused when Techno presses a healing potion in his hands for the wounds Philza hadn’t even noticed. Tommy’s hands curl into fists so he doesn’t have to notice the blood under his claws. 

Techno offers Tommy a hand up, and he just stares at it. “You good, bro?” 

Tommy expects the offer to drop as he doesn’t respond, but Techno remains reaching for him. “I hate that I’m like this,” Tommy says quietly, watching the crescents of wounds buried in Phil’s flesh vanish in a curl of rose magic. 

“Alright,” Philza measures carefully. “So what can we do to become a Tommy you don’t hate?”

“Nothing. I’m just like this now because of him, I won’t ever be the Tommy I used to be.” 

“Hm. Maybe a better question is what types of things does a better Tommy do?” 

“Maybe… doesn’t waste your time with stupid crap like this.”

“It’s not a waste of time if you need help,” Phil assures him. 

“But a better Tommy wouldn’t need help.” 

“That’s just not true, mate. Everyone does. Me and Techno aid each other all the time. We care about you and want to support you.” 

“Then a better Tommy would make it worth it to care. He’s nicer. Doesn’t shout and break your stuff when you’ve only been kind to him. But whenever I act like that, it feels close to the preening. And I don’t want to get stuck like that, all cuddly and fawning and nauseatingly meek. It feels like I’m losing control, just trying to do appease you so I don’t get hit. And- and if I’m awful enough you’ll leave, too, and then I won’t have to worry about it at all. But that isn’t working, either. I don’t get it. I’m awful. I’m awful on purpose. Why do you put up with me?” 

Techno shifts from hoof to hoof, firelight tossing his shadow wildly. “While I admit it would be cool if you stopped smashing my cupboards…I get it. Heh, you should see our training room after I’ve had a bad day. I’d prefer that frustration is channeled into something productive instead of being taken out on us, but we can work on that. You went through a lot; it’s okay if recovery is rocky. Besides, after I baby-proofed the house it hasn’t been too bad. You’re going to have to try a lot harder to get us to hate you. But I gotta ask, is that really what you want?” 

Tommy bites his lip, eyes burning from staring at embers for too long. Or perhaps it’s the threatening tears, but Tommy refuses to admit that. Does he want them to hate him? Will it be okay to hate himself if the entire world does? Will he be finally safe if no one cares? “It’d be easier if you did.” Then he won’t have to wonder what they could possibly see in him that he can’t.  

“We’re not trying to make it easier for us,” Philza explains. “This is about what would make life easier for you, Tommy.”

“I wish stupid things didn’t upset me, like touching and grooming and holes and obsidian and smiles and feathers. But most of all I hate my instincts, the way I just shut down. How ease to manipulate it makes me.”

“Those hatchling instincts aren’t forever, mate. You’ll grow out of them, just like I did when I first flew.” 

“But I can’t! I’ve tried, Phil, all it did was nearly kill me! I can’t fly, and maybe I never will.” 

“I never said you have to fly alone.”

Next >

[ravennaortiz]

Secret Santa: Day 4

Summary: Fluff with the lovely Angel.

"What do you have there?" inquired Bishop as he stepped into his daughters bakery. "Oh, just another gift from my secret santa. Every morning so far I have found a little box attached to the door. This is the fifth and I have no idea who it could be" you replied as you opened the tiny red box and smiled at the little penguin ear rings inside. "Hmm, typically this information would concern a father" joked Bishop as he snagged a cookie from the plate on the counter. "Like you should be concerned about your blood sugar?" you replied as you smacked his hand.

"Just like your mother" grumbled Bishop as he rolled his eyes. "Ignoring that. Anyway so you know who my secret santa is?" you inquired giving your dad a smirk as you blocked the door. "I am a bank vault. You will get nothing from me." replied Bishop as he pretended to seal his lips. Sighing you moved off to the side to get back to work as your dad left laughing.

Mayan Clubhouse

Angels heart sped up the minute he saw you step into the clubhouse. Boxes of goodies precariously piled up in your arms. He practically knocked Coco and Creeper down to get to your side to help. "My hero" you laughed as you felt Angel catch the top boxes as they started to shift. Angel laughed softly. Your words always stunned him. He had never been anyone's anything and it terrified him that maybe he could be. "You spoil us" joked Angel as he walked with you to the bar to set the boxes of treats down. Your arm brushing against his sent electrical pulses through him and that smile you gave him sent him to the heavens.

"Only the best for my boys" you replied in your most serious tone before laughing. "Were men not boys" replied Coco as he grabbed for a box of treats and knocked into Angel. "Uh huh" you replied before shaking your head. "I also came by because I had a question" you stated before turning your attention back to Angel. "Shoot" replied Angel as he took a bite of a santa cookie. "Are you my secret santa?" you rushed out barely leaving space between the words. You could feel your cheeks warm and you couldnt look at the man in front of you. "What?! Why would you think that?" blurted Angel before he could think. "Your right, that would be stupid" you muttered not able to hide the hurt. You turned as you felt your world come crashing down. How could you have been so dumb.

"Wait" Called Angel as he mentally smacked himself as he grabbed your arm. This was not going like he had hoped. If only he had told you months ago how he felt. " I meant I am. You make me so damn nervous my brain just turns off" stated Angel as you turned towards him. "I'm not good enough but i wanna try to be. Will you take a chance on me?" he asked as he kissed your hand. "You are enough" you replied before grabbing onto his kutte to pull him in for a kiss.

Tag List @darqchilddaydreamz

[watcheraurora]

Burning Bright

Lil Ranchers fic because they were so fun and I miss that dynamic 2.6k words

—

Tango was always burning. He didn't usually catch things on fire—he knew how to be careful—but he always burned. To be fire, like him, was to live fast and die young. He burned bright, but didn't last long. Keeping a fire alive took more effort than most others tended to want to use. Fire was dangerous. Once his natural lifeforce ran out and burned away, so would he. The only way to live past his lifeforce running out in one world, without jumping to another, was to be fueled. And no one would fuel him. He knew that. His friends loved him, but not at the cost of that amount of effort.

Then... The creeper. The canary.

Jimmy was warm. He was made of soft things. Downy gold feathers and skin unblemished by the calluses Tango had from redstone work. All bark and no bite. He made threats in good fun, knowing full well he'd never even be capable of seeing them through. Despite being all soft edges, he had thick skin. It seemed that everyone else picked on him, and their words slid right off Jimmy's feathers.

And they were tied together. Tango, the fire who burned—and Jimmy, the soft canary with flammable feathers.

Soulbound.

Jimmy was asleep in the big ranch bed, holding a pillow and his feathers fluttering with his breath. The large gold wings splayed out haphazardly over the mattress.

Tango wasn't asleep. Tango should have been asleep. Tango knew it.

He was awake. His hair was casting soft light on the walls of the bedroom. They'd put up the house so quickly together that they hadn't thought much about rooms. Sharing a room was fine. They were soulbound—sharing a bed would have been fine.

But Tango couldn't sleep.

He slipped soundlessly off the large bed and out of the ranch house. The animals in their pens breathed deeply as they slept.

Tango went to the boardwalk built against the side of the mountain, looking down into the gorge. He leaned against the railing, hair flickering above his head, staring out over the landscape.

He couldn't fly here. His Blaze Rods could spin around him, but they wouldn't lift him from the ground like they would on other worlds. Jimmy, with those gloriously huge wings, couldn't fly here. Skizz wasn't here—not this time—but he wouldn't have been able to fly here. Grian couldn't without Admin powers that he couldn't use right now. Not everyone had the ability to fly naturally, but those who did were landbound until further notice.

It was strange, to Tango, not being able to fly. He was smaller than the average Player, and often just used his Blaze Rods to hover at eye level. Jimmy was taller than the average Player. And not being able to look him in the eye on a flat plane was a bit irksome.

He stared across the gorge toward the bases his other friends were constructing.

"Can't sleep?" a voice asked.

Tango's hair flared into a bonfire as he whirled, teeth bared in a threat.

Martyn was strolling up the boardwalk with his hands in his pockets. Not even a torch in hand, let alone a lantern. Lanterns were an expensive waste of iron in a world as small and limited as this one.

Tango didn't know Martyn well, but he knew Jimmy did. He could feel Jimmy's connection to Martyn down the yellow string tying them together inside. But Tango knew Martyn was a loose cannon. A wanderer whose loyalty was fickle. Skizz had warned him to be cautious around Martyn.

"Can't sleep," Tango confirmed nonchalantly, going back to leaning against the fence railing. Watching the stars drift across the sky.

Martyn pulled to a stop right next to Tango and plopped down onto the boardwalk, sticking his legs through the gaps in the fence and letting them dangle off, kicking like a kid in a chair too big for them.

"Let me guess," Tango said, dry and sarcastic. "You're here to warn me not to hurt Jimmy? Because he's your longtime friend and I'm the new, unknown party who got tied to him the moment we landed in this world?"

Martyn scoffed. "No," he replied.

“Why not? You’ve got that older brother energy.”

Martyn laughed. “I’m not going to because I don’t need to. Timmy is quite sh—” Martyn cleared his throat. The world rules didn’t allow for cursing, and the word wouldn’t even leave his throat. “Timmy isn’t good at PvP, but from what I’ve seen you’re worse.”

Tango rolled his eyes. “Gee, thanks. Whodda thunk it? The guy with redstone under his nails who builds games can’t sling a sword to save his life. Literally.” Sarcasm rolled off him in waves. Like it always did.

Martyn put his hands behind him on the boardwalk and leaned against them. “Not that it matters anyway. In a fight between soulbounds—well. You both lose.”

“Said from experience,” Tango shot back, remembering the news of Scott, Pearl, Cleo, and Martyn all having troubles with one another spreading around earlier today.

“Obviously,” Martyn replied. He sounded hurt, but not by Tango’s words.

"Is it hard? How close were you and Cleo before this?"

"Not close. Met a few times. I considered us friendly. But with the soulbond... even being this far away feels like I'm missing a piece of myself. Like she took a few of my ribs with them."

"Sorry," Tango said.

Martyn shrugged. "Trust me, I can take it. I actually dropped by when I saw you out here just to chat because... well. Timmy couldn't take it. He's got such a big, soft heart. It's open and it bleeds love for others. He couldn't take his soulbound rejecting him. If it feels like I've lost a couple ribs, he'd feel like several organs were missing. I came to chat because I'm grateful. Timmy is like a younger brother to me. And I'm grateful it's you he's ended up tied to. I'm grateful you just... accepted him immediately. And seem to really care about him too."

"I'm not in the business of being rude to people who don't deserve it," Tango said. "I'm kinda dry, I can admit that. Some people find it abrasive. But I'm not rude. Try not to be, anyway. And Jimmy's good." He reached up and stuck a hand into his burning hair. "He's the one who should be upset about being stuck with me."

Martyn scrunched his eyebrows. "What makes you think that? Timmy has gone out first both times before now."

"I know. But he's not actively dying." Tango dropped his hand from his hair and held it, palm-up, perpendicular to his body. A ball of fire ignited over it. "My kind lives fast. Dies young. We burn our lifeforce. We're dying from the moment we're born. The first spark is the beginning of the end. Case in point: I'm the one who knocked us down to yellow, not him."

Martyn hummed in thought, staring out across the gorge. "Still," he said. "At least he's got you, rather than someone with sharp edges."

Tango looked down at the redstone dust stuck under his nails. "Don't make assumptions about my edges just because Jimmy's are soft. I just know who to sharpen them around."

Martyn laughed. "Oh I can tell," he remarked, drawing his legs back from the edge and pushing to his feet. "And speak of the cursed—"

A loud yawn roused Tango's attention. "Tango?" Jimmy asked tiredly. "What're you doin' out here?" He stepped down the slope and rested an arm on Tango's shoulder, leaning against it like he was going to fall asleep on his feet.

"Just needed the fresh air," Tango says.

Martyn smirked with a quiet, "Hm!" of a laugh before saluting with two fingers and sauntering off. He whistled quietly, spinning his sword casually as he retreated into the darkness.

“Come get some sleep?” Jimmy suggested.

Tango stared after where Martyn had vanished. “Yeah. Let’s do that.”

Jimmy pulled Tango back to the ranch house by the forearm and nearly flopped on top of him to go back to bed. Tango laid on his back and stared at the ceiling, one arm behind his head, until Jimmy’s wing draped over top, blocking his view of the ceiling.

Rolling to his side, he smiled at Jimmy’s freckles all scrunched up while he slept before dropping off himself.

—

“So I’ve noticed that Joel is kind of a di—” Tango coughed on the word he wasn’t allowed to say. “—a jerk to you. What’s up with that?”

Jimmy shrugged, his wings sweeping the air with the motion. “Joel’s like a big brother. Thinks it’s his job to pick on me. Grian too, actually. And Martyn.”

Tango said nothing as he held some wheat out for the cows. One of them chewed at it distractedly. “So… what? Is it like your shtick at this point?”

“Something like that.”

“Did you choose for that to be your shtick?”

Jimmy looked up from where he was planting crops, giving Tango a sarcastic expression through his floppy dirty blond bangs. “Did I choose to always be the butt of everyone’s jokes?” Usually Tango was the sarcastic one in his alliance, but Jimmy was already absorbing some of Tango’s traits. The same way Tango was absorbing some of Jimmy’s.

“Point taken,” Tango said dryly.

Jimmy shrugged again. “It’s not so bad. I know it’s all in good fun and they don't actually mean it. Makes it easy to let the words roll off.”

Tango raised a vibrant yellow brow, swallowing the sharp retort on the tip of his tongue about how being made fun of wasn’t good fun in favor of giving another cow more wheat.

He just shook his head and fed the cows more earnestly. Martyn was right that Tango was worse at PvP than Jimmy, but listening to Jimmy's nonchalance ignited his protective instincts and he wished he could just sling a sword at the other Players who were mean to Jimmy. His fire didn't do anything other than give off light and heat in this world. He couldn't actually burn anything.

After the cows and sheep were fed, he boosted himself up onto the fence. Just sitting on it with his feet braced against the lower cross bar. "Ya wanna know why I keep agreeing to join Grian for these games?" he asked.

Jimmy looked up from the tilled soil. "What?"

Tango repeated his question. Jimmy went to the small hole they'd put water in for irrigation and washed the soil off his hands before joining Tango on the fence.

"Because it's fun?" Jimmy suggested.

Tango raised a sarcastic brow at his soulbound. "I mean, sure. But you've seen how much this is not my usual gig. I don't do fights to the death. Not with any expectation of winning, anyway. I don't swing a sword like it's an extension of my own arm. I make games for people to play. Even here. It's what I do."

"Alright. So. Why do you keep agreeing when Grian asks if you want to participate again? Your friends are here?"

"That, I guess. But I keep agreeing because it brings me to a new world. Every time."

Jimmy scrunched his eyebrows. "Why's that significant?"

Tango's Blaze Rods appeared, orbiting his head quickly before vanishing. "New worlds reset my lifeforce while I'm on them."

"What?"

"I'm fire, Jimmy. My kind... we burn like fire. And all fire requires fuel. For us, it's lifeforce. And we have a finite amount of it. If I want to survive longer than I have lifeforce, I have to be fueled. Like any other fire. And new worlds... refill the tank, as it were. I've never run out of lifeforce yet. But my kind lives fast and dies young. The brighter and hotter we burn, the faster we consume. I keep agreeing because I don't want to put the burden of fueling me on the people I care about."

"Do they... use their lifeforce to fuel you?"

"That's one option. But anything else that can fuel fire can fuel me. Wood, coal, charcoal, lava. But it takes a lot more to power a whole body than a campfire and the need to refuel is constant and not something I can easily achieve on my own. That's a personal failing, though. Being forgetful and easily distracted. So I keep doing this despite being bad at it, because it starts my timer over."

"How long will it take for you to get low?"

"Depends. If I burn bright, it'll be shorter. If I burn low, I can drag it out. It's usually years, but I don't like getting even that close."

Jimmy put his hand on his chest, looked down at it, then looked over toward Tango's heart. "If it comes down to it, you know I'll do what I can."

"Jim. It's not the kind of death that would take you too, even with the link. If it came down to it and my life was running out, I'd appreciate if you helped me gather outside fuel. But don't you dare give me your lifeforce, understood?"

"Tango..."

"Do you understand, Solidarity?" Tango fixed Jimmy with a bloodred glare.

Soft hazel eyes blinked in shock at Tango's edges sharpening. "You can't stop me," he said. One of his favorite threatening phrases to say with a laugh and a broad smile. He wasn't laughing or smiling now.

Tango grabbed Jimmy's arms. "Not an option. If we're here that long, I can stop you, and I will."

"How?"

"Grian's the Admin. He'd delink us if I asked."

"Don't you dare."

Tango hopped off the fence and started moving toward the crops.

"Tango!" Jimmy called, leaping from the fence with a single beat of his wings and rushing after. He grabbed Tango's arm and spun him around. "I'm not losing my rancher. And I'll gather outside fuel, of course. But if the situation was desperate—"

"I won't let it get that desperate," Tango said. "I'm not losing my rancher either and that's not something I'll respawn from. I'm not letting you take that same road. You don't deserve it."

"Hey. Neither do you." Jimmy set his hands on Tango's shoulders, holding him in place.

Tango shrugged, slipping out from under Jimmy's hands. "It's the way my kind has always lived. That's one reason Blazebloods are so uncommon. We don't live long outside of the Nether without lava to fuel us past what we're born with. 'Deserve' has nothing to do with it." He lifted the bag with seeds in it from Jimmy's pocket as he moved away. "Just who I was born."

"Well I hate it," Jimmy said. "I hate that something like that could take you away too early."

Tango's expression morphed into a sly one. "Coming from the canary?"

Jimmy straightened to his full height, several inches taller than Tango. "Yes."

"Ironic." But Tango was smiling. "C'mon. We got work to do before going to check up on other people. Gotta establish our ranch, right buddy?"

Jimmy's expression softened. "Yeah. Right."

They split the seeds between the two of them and went back to planting.

"Hey. Wanna go steal Scar's horse?"

"Heck yeah! Let's do it!"

[pearlescent-princess]

Hi there!! If you're still doing energy readings I'd love one, the one you did for my partner was so accurate!! My spiritual blog is @transdruid so I'll be interacting from there :)

Hello to you! I am, and I am happy to do one for you!

Are you? Do you do anything with Welsh folklore, because that is what came to mind first of all. I am refraining from looking at your blog (and I admittedly did check after I said so and went "oh! wow you do, okay!"). Just before I did get more into the reading hehe.

I am finding there is no need for strands to be plucked or played. There is no dark space leading into anywhere at all. Only what feels like an opening between hedges, but I know these are ivy leaves I see instead or even some sort of creeper. I peek my head out and look to both sides before I cross over.

Once in the realm, I can see what looks to be dawn coming up over the horizon. I push past trees in this old forest and find myself in a meadow, though it has a feeling of a small valley as well. I feel myself accidentally kick a few hazelnuts away and give an apology for being clumsy. There is a stillness in the space around me where I do not feel anyone in the immediate vicinity. I go to walk forward and let the grass brush against my ankles. The further I walk in, the more I can tell where I can go. I go up over the hill so that I stand on top and then look over to the other side. It looks like a sinkhole, or something that has been blighted. It's darkened despite the dawn light. I look down into it, but do not lean in too far. I feel someone grab the back of my clothing and yank me back. I am scolded once, while it is foreign to my ears, it is not to my mind. I am met with a man of sorts. His eyes are slightly unusual, as they are red in their irises, and I have no way of knowing if they are usually like that or not. The hair is inky dark (and I swear I can see dark buds of horns or antlers but they are hard to see), and his body is one of an athlete or warrior. Parts of his face are obscured, and there is a veil or half-face mask over his nose and mouth. It is hard to be certain. He warns about the pit and to not go into it, unless there is a desire for a journey down. Rather forcefully, I am guided with my arm in his grasp away from the hilltop and down the side. Back into the meadow. I am stuck standing here with him and it feels as if we are waiting for someone else. I am told to stand still as I can feel several bucks approach from behind. They circle us once, and I note that one is melanistic, one is albino, and the final is the normal brown coloration. Each of them has antlers, unadorned with anything, just bare. A final one approaches and I feel its great size as warm breath hits my back. I turn around to see it, and the buck (perhaps even stag) wears a medallion on its neck. I am allowed closer to look at it, and hold it in the palm of my right hand. It shines brightly, like starlight to me, and truly just looks like a stag head with laurels around it like a portrait. I flip it over to see if there is an inscription, but find that there is not, only the lettering of who made it. The man who pulled away speaks. I wish I could catch what was said other than "this will have meaning when it is revealed". I feel the giant buck nudge me gently as it must sense I am tired and beckons me to go. I hear the man speak to the deer about how this would not have happened if they were not late. I give my gratitude and appreciation as the great buck walks me out to where I entered. I wave goodbye before I leave for good.

I do have to agree that it felt like I may have arrived too early, or there was a rush to meet before time was up? I am not sure who the person who pulled me away from, but it felt like it was more related to the big buck (and/or stag) than necessarily you. Something like a liaison, where you may know them but they work for another entity. Somehow it felt like they would know you in some capacity. Otherwise, the appearance of the deer was interesting, especially in the way they had different pelt coloration. I am not entirely sure what the medallion was but it was the item that was meant to be shown and shared to you at least. I am not sure if I was meant to see the pit on the other side of the hill as that felt like an entrance to another after-world or place.

I did find this one to be different than others. I appreciate your patience and hope there is something here that can be pertinent. c:

[prouvaireafterdark]

Siren Song

A Loustat fic for @chamblerstara's smutty dialogue prompt “Are you trying to turn me on or are you really just that oblivious?”

My premise started as "What if Louis could sing like Jacob Anderson and it made Lestat lose his fucking mind?" and this is what I ended up with lol, hope you enjoy!

Also on AO3!

***

The first time Lestat heard Louis sing, he nearly fell to his knees and deeper in love than even his romantic heart had thought possible.

Lestat had just gotten home after a kill when he heard it—one of the most arresting voices that had ever graced his ears, coming from behind their closed bathroom door of all places. He was up the stairs in a flash and opened the door in a daze, his heart soaring as his eyes confirmed what he already knew—that the man with the heavenly voice singing in the shower was indeed Louis de Pointe du Lac, the love of his unnatural life.

A heady cavalcade of emotions washed over him. Surprise. Hurt. Confusion. Joy. Arousal. Love. 

It was the last two that won out in the end as Lestat stood there, silently absorbing the sound of Louis’ voice with unadulterated awe. He felt Louis’ voice fill him with feeling so intense he thought his legs would give out. 

It made perfect sense, did it not? Of course his Saint Louis would have the voice of an angel, tailor-made to send him to his knees. What better companion heart could he have found in all the world?

“You gonna join me in here or just stand there like a creeper?” Louis paused his singing to ask, not bothering to peek at him from behind the curtain. 

Lestat merely swallowed, words failing him entirely. 

“I can smell the blood on you, Lestat,” Louis said when he heard nothing in reply but the pounding of water against tile. “Come on, get in here.”

Lestat stripped himself of his suit, carelessly tossing it to the floor by the sink. His eyes were still fixed on the shadow of his lover behind the shower curtain, disappointed that Louis’ singing had not resumed. When he was fully naked, Lestat pulled the sheet of fabric back and stepped in behind his husband. 

Louis turned to look at him, but his smile dimmed the moment he saw Lestat’s face.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Louis asked, brow creased with concern as he turned around fully and reached up to cup Lestat’s cheek.

Wrong? Lestat thought incredulously, and it was as Louis' thumb came away wet with bloody tears that Lestat realized he’d been crying.

Lestat laughed at the absurdity of it, feeling a little hysterical, and surged forward to kiss him. Louis allowed it, kissed him back even, but the furrow between his brow had not disappeared when Lestat pulled back.

“Nothing,” he reassured him before stealing another affectionate kiss, his arms coming up to wrap around Louis’ narrow waist. “Nothing at all.”

“Then why are you crying?” Louis asked before adding, mostly to himself, “Don’t think I’ve ever seen you do that before.”

“Because I have just heard your beautiful voice, mon chéri,” Lestat told him, nuzzling the side of his face. “Why did you not tell me that you sing so well?” 

“I don’t,” Louis shrugged, his hands slipping from Lestat’s cheeks to his shoulders. 

Lestat pulled back and raised a skeptical eyebrow at him.

“Not anymore, anyway,” Louis conceded. “Me and Paul used to sing in the church choir when we was kids, but that was a long time ago.”

The mental image of Louis as a young boy dressed in that ridiculous church choir costume brought a smile to Lestat’s face, but he set it aside for the moment—another question was looming larger in his mind.

“But why did you not tell me?” Lestat asked, desperate to understand how and why his Louis would keep this from him when he knew how deeply music spoke to his soul. “Two years you’ve lived with me in this house and I’ve never heard you sing.”

“I don’t know,” Louis shrugged again, this time his eyes fixed firmly on Lestat’s collarbone. “Just haven’t felt like singin’, I guess.”

Does this have something to do with Paul? Lestat wondered. He frowned and studied Louis closely, sensing there was something else on the tip of his tongue.

“Besides, you’re a little…” he began again, hesitating as he fought to find the right word, “critical toward mediocre singers. Didn’t think you’d appreciate it.”

Lestat took a deep inhale of breath. On principle, he was as greatly vexed by a witless hack who thought he was a star as he was by someone who did not realize the depth of their own skill, and it frustrated Lestat as much as it saddened him that Louis underestimated his talent so severely—and further still, that he thought Lestat would criticize him for his singing.

“There is nothing mediocre about your voice, Louis,” Lestat told him, perhaps a little too sharply, his eyes burning with an intensity Louis did not expect. “And when I brought you into the blood, I told you that I wanted you to express yourself without apology. Why would you think I would criticize you for it?”

“What, you angry with me now?” Louis asked, pulling away from him, and for the thousandth time in half as many days, Lestat cursed the fact that Louis could not peek inside his head and know the truth of his heart.

Lestat huffed a laugh with a shake of his head before crowding Louis up against the cool tile wall until Lestat could feel his half-hard cock press against the slick skin of Louis’ lower belly. The spray of the water coming from the shower head, finally reaching him with Louis out of its path, was warm against his side.

Louis’ throat clicked as he swallowed and Lestat watched with deep satisfaction as Louis’ pupils swelled with arousal and his cock began to stir against his thigh.  

“Does it feel like I’m angry with you, Louis?” Lestat asked him softly, leaning in close enough that Louis’ lips brushed his as he shook his head in reply. “I only wish you had shown me sooner, that’s all. I nearly fell to my knees when I heard you singing. Such is the power your voice holds over me.”

Louis’ heart quickened at the compliment. “Oh yeah?”

“Mhmm,” Lestat hummed against his lips. “I think perhaps I ought to fall to them now in appreciation. What do you think?”

Louis cupped Lestat’s face between his palms once more and pulled him into a searing kiss before he let Lestat drop to his knees.

A trend began soon after that. 

Lestat would catch Louis singing now and then and, inevitably, would become enraptured by the melodic, sensual sound of it. It made him insane with desire to hear Louis sing for him—insatiable, even. He needed to have him, any way and anywhere he could get him: in their bed, on the sofa, in their coffins, in the shower, against a wall—even on top of the grand piano on one memorable occasion. Louis was always more than happy to indulge him, eager for whatever pleasure Lestat was determined to give him.

It took Lestat weeks to realize that Louis was doing it on purpose. He planned to confront him the next time it happened and not three days later did Louis give him the opportunity.

They had been getting ready for coffin when he heard Louis begin to hum a familiar tune, the soft timbre of his voice as alluring as any siren song. Lestat turned around, half-dressed himself, to find Louis stripped down to his undergarments as he fished around in his wardrobe for something to wear. As if sensing Lestat’s eyes on him, Louis bent over to pull something from his bottom drawer, still humming as the thin material of his underwear stretched tight over his backside. 

Lestat nearly bit clean through his bottom lip, inflamed with desire at the sight and sound of him. He crossed the room in time for Louis to stand up straight again, a soft sleep shirt held loosely between his fingers.

Louis put up no resistance as Lestat tugged the shirt from his grasp and let it drop to the floor, as if expecting he wouldn’t need it for long. Instead, he leaned back against Lestat until his bare back met his chest.

“Are you trying to turn me on?” Lestat asked, speaking the words against the nape of Louis’ neck as he wrapped his arms around his waist from behind. “Or are you really just that oblivious?” 

“I don’t know what you mean,” Louis said, but his projection of innocence was greatly undermined by the sly curve of his mouth.

“You know what your beautiful voice does to me, Louis,” Lestat said, grinding his growing erection against the swell of Louis’ ass. “How it brings me to my knees.”

“Maybe I like you there,” Louis said, and Lestat felt the rumble of a growl deep in his throat. 

Without a second thought, Lestat spun Louis around and took him in his arms, lifting him easily off the ground and over his shoulder.

“Lestat! Where are you taking me?” Louis laughed, scrambling for purchase against the smooth skin of Lestat’s back. 

“To bed, mon cher,” Lestat answered, walking him the short distance to their bedroom. He tossed Louis gently down on the bed before dropping to his knees. He slipped his hands between Louis’ open thighs, sliding them along his bare skin, his fingertips teasing just under the hem of his shorts. “You know, if you wanted me on my knees, all you had to do was ask.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” Louis quipped, propped up on his elbows as he watched Lestat’s every movement with interest.

Lestat chuckled as he reached for Louis’ waistband. “If you keep singing to me, I’ll show you.”

“You want me to sing to you while you suck me off?” Louis asked, helpfully lifting his hips as Lestat dragged his underwear off of him and tossed it to the floor.

“Oui, mon cher,” Lestat confirmed. Louis’ cock was already hard and flushed at the tip when Lestat took it in hand and rested its thick head against the plush pillow of his bottom lip. “I’d like to find out just how high a note you can reach for me.”

The answer, as Lestat discovered when Louis burst across his tongue with a sharp, blissful moan, was quite fucking high.

[driflew]

i’ve decided to post what i had from that traitor phil au i was working on back in april as a oneshot, so here’s the full fic outline so i can link it at the end

tl;dr the full plot would have been that phil would start out intending to betray techno and actually turn him into the butcher army, but after the execution realize he really cares about techno and decide to swap sides, choosing to be the friend techno believed him to be all along 

phil arriving in lmanberg and killing wilbur, seeing technoblade, speaking to new lmanberg about what happened

no one really seems to know exactly what caused wil’s downward spiral, and those that saw it firsthand either dont want to talk about it or aren’t there. eventually phil talks to quackity and quackity tells him that wil’s spiral started about when techno showed up, and if they can bring techno down, they can avenge wilbur

phil going after techno in the arctic, finding him building his house. gets roped into helping him (maybe explain here why phil is acting as he is), get to know techno

see him shapeshift into human form once the house is done and realize he’s wilbur’s age

helping build the bee farm

going to the village and seeing techno would rather trade w the villagers than act out the senselessly violent character they told him about 

probably mentions that carl is his most important horse

gives phil the compass at the end of their first real meeting so phil can come back, inscribed with “Techno’s Compass” on the back, so phil starts calling him “techno”

several meetings, techno trusts phil w information such as 

only has one life 

hears voices and is trying to be less violent (hence throwing his all into his friendship w phil)

had something short written for this area

“Y’know, if you let the snow pile up a bit more, mobs’d stop spawning,” Phil says, though he doesn’t process the words until they’re already out of his mouth. He only just stops himself from straight-up slamming his hand over his mouth, though after a moment, he realizes he doesn’t regret the tip as much as he thought he might.

Technoblade, for his part, only nods.

“How deep?” Technoblade asks.

“About, uh,” Phil says, and for a second, he considers lying. He could tell Technoblade something too short, allowing mobs to spawn when his guard is lowered. He could also say too high, letting Technoblade risk freezing.

He balks at both ideas. Technoblade isn’t stupid enough to fall for either, for one, and besides, the idea of Technoblade suffering either fate feels… wrong, somehow. Something in Phil’s gut turns as he imagines the man collapsing in the snow, just feet from his own home, felled by some creeper he hadn’t thought there’d be any risk of spawning. Worse, Phil finds he hates the idea of coming to visit, only to find Technoblade’s frozen corpse half buried in the snow.

Phil’d… like to see it himself, he decides. A death message in chat just doesn’t have the same flair as hands-on revenge, even if he caused it.

“Another layer should do the trick,” Phil says, “Just don’t pile it too high. Don’t want to freeze.”

phil shares w nlm that techno only has one life. he also shares that techno is trying to live as a pacifist. he tries to argue that he believes techno may well have changed, and he’d like to get more information, but is ignored. he doesnt share about the voices

techno gives phil the friendship emerald once a stable trade is built up. emeralds mean loyalty, they cant be used for weapons or tools. they’re only used in totems. emeralds symbolize truth, which isn’t something that is lost on phil 

phil’s very aware of the emerald in his ear when he hands over Techno’s compass to the Butcher Army

he tips dream off about the upcoming execution

he helps build the stand—he stalls so that dream has time to help and makes the would-be manner of death quick and painless when asked to finish

he sends a crow off to warn techno the day of

he tells himself that with tubbo and ranboo there that techno will be able to talk to them and prove he’s changed, that techno will be able to fight them off, that it’ll all be fine

all the way up until the butcher army comes back and they have techno

resignation, steely determination, and then he looks up and sees phil and its open and honest fear. For Phil’s Sake. and lmanberg decides to try to kick techno while hes down by telling techno that phil betrayed him

i also have a bit for this

Phil hears the crowd before he sees them. Quackity, Tubbo, Fundy—he recognizes their voices easily, shouting at the top of their lungs as they come up the street. That doesn’t surprise Phil, as they’ve never been quiet.

What worries him is that they’re cheering.

A group returning from getting their asses handed to them by the Blood God wouldn’t return home cheering.

Phil steps out onto his balcony, his heart in his stomach, and that is his first mistake.

Technoblade is in chains. His head hangs low, long hair half out of the same lazy bun he’s been wearing it in for weeks, strung around his face in a curtain that cannot hide the resignation set in his jaw. He’s unarmed and without armor, dressed down to the casualwear Phil has gotten so used to seeing him in. It’s damp with sweat, though at the least, he doesn’t seem injured.

Phil’s second mistake is speaking, an almost involuntary expression of shock.

“You actually got him,” Phil says, and Technoblade’s head snaps up.  

Phil braces for rage. He braces for hatred, for the well-earned vitriol of a man betrayed. He braces for the fire that has razed nations to the ground, that has reveled in bridges aflame and smoking. He expects Techno to despise him.

What he sees is fear. Techno is terrified, but not for himself—he’s scared for Phil, of all people, even with the end of his life looming black against the night sky just a few steps away.

“Phil!” Techno calls, and he yanks on the chain, dragging Ranboo a few paces with it, “What’d they do to you?”

It burns so much worse.

techno goes Hard Into Denial. shouts that theyre all lying and they must have tortured phil or theyre trying to hurt techno more in his last moments and declares he doesnt believe them and tells phil he knows better

This Is All Very Bad For Phil’s Conscience 

phil doesnt know about the totem--even when punz hops in he has no idea, when the lever is pulled, that they’ll be able to do anything. he thinks hes going to watch techno die, and have the last thing techno says about him is ‘i believe in you wholeheartedly’ even though phil’s hand may as well have been on the lever 

techno escapes and runs away without looking back and phil decides, if it isn’t too late, that he wants to be the person techno believes he is

its also how phil sees tubbo being truly corrupted by power (esp considering tubbo shot him) and knows hes like. this is what happened to wilbur. this is what this place does to people

techno comes back for phil a few days later. nothing to find him by except gentle tapping at phil’s door and the tell-tale heat-haze shimmer of invis. no armor, unarmed, in the middle of enemy territory. its a show of trust and a blatant test. “Are you with me?”

techno’s very much looking for proof on either side. did phil betray him? is phil actually his friend? this is the big moment of truth for him. but phil’s still wearing the emerald, and he takes the hand techno offers, and against all good sense techno chooses to trust him

techno asks a little about it and phil tells him they used wilbur’s memory to make him. techno doesnt ask anything else

techno’s sort of. hes aware something is sus w phil. but he has to believe that phil is his friend, since he has no others and he really likes phil, so hes believing phil isn’t a traitor. not... a particularly healthy mindset tbh

tommy stuff, rebuilding the techno and phil friendship as techno prepares to attack lmanberg 

being able to actually talk to tommy and ask tommy about what happened to wilbur helps settle that part of phil that’s been wondering all this time

techno comes home after the green festival alone and tells phil that tommy betrayed him. this is another test, just slightly. as he tells phil there’s this slight edge of “but you wouldn’t do this to me, right? you’re not going to betray me, right?” and phil is able to like. as he comforts techno abt the betrayal hes able to assure techno who he chose. esp when the idea of destroying lmanberg comes up and phil is right behind him 

doomsday is a way for phil to declare, officially, where his loyalties lie, to completely get rid of the place that wanted to make him technoblade's enemy, to get rid of the place that drove wilbur over the edge. and techno sees phil's insistence with helping him at doomsday and hes like. ‘i never should have doubted phil, hes always been on my side’

after doomsday phil considers not telling techno. he Does Not want to talk about this sort of thing w techno but also he thinks he needs to, bc techno doesnt rlly freely share emotional needs anymore like he used to, techno cant seem to let himself start trusting ranboo, and phil cant make himself build a house on techno’s property because he feels too guilty 

techno approaches phil about the syndicate and phil comes clean. he cant in good conscience join this organization w techno as techno’s most trusted right hand if he doesnt 

its like. its earth-shattering for techno, but at the same time, techno knew all along

techno comes away with the idea that phil may have started w lmanberg, but phil chose techno, something no one else has done

[augment-techs]

Write for 15 minutes without deleting anything

This part is short because I kind of...extended it. Sorry to @ajgrey9647 for using graft cut; but I can't mix these on here very well ^^;

Aside from the black eye, fractured cheekbone, bruises from his back hitting a decrepit telephone pole that had somehow survived twenty years in desolation, and a thumbnail lost when he went through a boarded up storefront window, Skull was reasonably pleased that he had managed to get Jason back to the palace without much fuss. And also that he'd gotten back to the Grove only just before a massive thunderstorm, with horrendous amounts of rain that they all knew-knew-knew was going to cause flooding after it being dry and barren for so long. They'd still gotten wet and Skull had only just remembered to stay away from metal standing buildings and rubble, but carrying Jason unconscious in a princess carry meant the unconscious fellow probably wasn't going to catch a cold.

Would have been better if he hadn't needed to use acupuncture points in Jason's legs to temporarily paralyze him, but trying to talk him through his onset of PTSD after being told Drakkon was back and requesting help didn't seem to be working. Like, even a little bit. It was scary how Jason could go from zero to a hundred at even the first hint of being told he'd have to see the man again. Painful too; the man had certainly been getting into shape more since he'd left. Kim, at least, look marginally more apologetic about Skull's condition than Jason's when they arrived back; what with the former Red Ranger having passed out from hyperventilating so he looked almost peaceful (thankfully he'd shaved that atrocious beard since he'd last been in Angel Grove) and Skull having to treat his own injuries since there was no fucking way that he was going to see Finster-5. Would have been nice to have a moment of peace before Drakkon meandered into the room to coo at the occupants and their states of being--especially Jason, the look in his eyes when he saw the man getting wiped down while unconscious was ghastly--but Skull was pleased to note that Kim still had excellent aim; even if it was with a teacup and she couldn't feel that good about it hitting his face due to Drakkon basically having fallen back to something more like a human from yet another Power anomaly and the girl he brought with him, Kiya, practically smiting him with every bit of lightning she could after he got her out of her prison sentence. "Can you not be a Creeper for more than five minutes, asshole?" "History proves that I probably can't Kimmy, no," Drakkon smiled through the spatter of tea running down the unpleasant looking scars along the side of his face. He even added to his being gross by wiping at the tea with his hand and then licking it off, "Hm. Second-hand kisses."

[odditycircus-2002]

Jeeper Creepers: Unexpected Turn of Events Chapter 1

CRAZY DRIVER

The weather cannot predict how the day may go. Sure, a lovely spring day with light breezes, the endless emerald pastures, and the clear blue sky dotted with ravens croaking their calls could be a herring for a bountiful or peaceful day. As a young caucasian college student, with the name Darius Jenner or Darry, with short brown hair and matching, eyes drove down the seemingly infinite road in his sister's, Patricia Jenner or Trish, car thought the weather means a pretty okay day. Said sister right next to him on the passenger's side, gazing out ahead of them with her mind occupied abput her regular life, not thinking of any of the dangers ahead. 

Then again, how could she have known? It seemed like another regular Spring Break and another regular trip to their parents' house like for the past few years. How could either sibling know that was all to end this year? To know about the horrors that lies ahead

"Just turn 15, you were a senior. You took me out to mom's old station wagon, The Dragon wagon, to teach me how to drive. But there was that one tree."

Darry recalls to his sister to pass the time, laughing at the memory. Trisha continues to stare ahead at the road, her eyes focusing on a stop sign ahead. 

"There was a guy banging the car while we were in the building."

Trish recalls. Darry gives a short chuckle before he continues.

"That's right. You actually lied for me."

Trish rolls her eyes, wonder, not for the first time, is she really related to this goober? Yet, Darry could see right through his sister's denial.

"No no come one, you lied for both of us. You actually did something decent for me, that's a part of history you can't change."

Darry concludes as he drives past a stop sign which Trisha notices as she glances back.

"That was a stop sign."

She points out to which Darry just shrugs off as he glances at his sister, incredulously.

"You're kidding right?"

"In your car, I'd be kidding."

She answers sarcastically as she glances at her brother to show her commitment to her statement.

" On this road? I haven't seen a car in fifty miles."

Darry answers back. They continue to drive at an average speed for cars on highways until Darry spots an RV. Feeling the familiar rush of sibling competitiveness, Darry speeds up to the RV, seeing no danger of it given the mostly vacant road.

"Come on Darry."

Trish warns in a half tired tone. She again had to ask herself, how did he remain alive for all these years, again? She already knew the answer, but it doesn't quite take away the annoyance that comes with her brother's antics. They drive up behind the RV to where they can see the vanity license plate that read,

"6A4EVR".

"Gay- Gay fever, no Gay forever! Gay forever! Ha! that's mine. That's 3 for little bro"

Darry claims in victory as they drive just a bit closer to the RV, seeing what he thought was a G, was actually a 6. Darry frowns dramatically at this which causes his sister to give a slight chuckle at his state, which only increases his frown.

"That's a 6, not a G you idiot. That's Sexy forever, that's mine and that's 5 to 2."

"Sh*t."

Darry mumbles disappointingly. Trish then glances over at Darry with a raised brow.

"Gay fever?"

Trish asks her brother incredulously. She just huffs in amusement, when they drove up to the driver's window to see an elderly couple, who didn't look too amused.

"Oh."

Darry utters out in realization, yet his tune changes after the elderly couple turn a corner and they drive past them.

" Sexy forever huh?"

Darry teases with a grin at his unamused sister.

"You know that's you in 40 years."

Trish deadpans to her brother, as she then proceeds to gnaw on a part of her reading glasses as neither had anything left to say, for now. They drive in silence for a good long moment, with their friend in the back snoozing away being the only sounds besides the road.

" You know there's usually a reason when you like the long way home." 

Darry starts, not wanting to beat around the bush and get straight to it. Better to rip the band-aid off, just as his sister would tell him. However, in this case, it would appear that Trish didn't want to hear it.

"Gee like, maybe I like the country?"

She retorts, turning her head to her brother with no trace of humor on her expression.

"Ok"

Darry replies, disbelief being definite in his tone.

' Geez, hypocrite much, sis? '

Darry thought to himself in irritation but decides in the end that he wasn't going to drop it.

"Just drive brat."

Trisha commands Darry, who persists with his questioning.

" Hey, I'm only thinking the same thing mom and dad are going to be thinking, "Trisha, why are you driving home for spring break with your brat brother, and not heading off somewhere with that nice Mr. Poly-side-track-team guy?"

Trisha rolls her eyes at Darry's "mom" voice and sighs. 

" I will tell them the exact same thing as I'll tell you, none of your Goddamn business."

Trisha again repeats, frustrated at her brother's insistence. Why can't he just let her keep her own damn life private? He's the baby, not her. 

" Better not let mama hen back there hear you." 

Darry teasingly warns, referring to the woman in the back with her luggage as well as the siblings'. She's a 6'1; olive skin; long messy caramel hair that goes past her waist slightly: full lips; a curvy figure; wearing converse, a teal bandanna, and a black baggie hoodie. This is Corbin: she is traveling with her close friends for the break since well, she's got nothing else to do or family to visit, at least that's what she told them.

"Oh please, she's knocked out like a light, something about late-night errands, and it goes the same for mama hen there, it's none of her business"

Indeed she was sleeping on the window, eyes shut with on hand on her cheek. Her long hair a mess from it rubbing against the door with some drool gathering at the corner of her mouth, signaling how truly asleep and dead she is to the world, currently.

"Oh you think Corbin and I can't understand the complex nature of your relationships?"

"No, I look at you two as real experts."

Trish replies back. She sometimes had to ponder in the depths of her mind, why would she tell her immature brother? How would he understand, when he never takes anything seriously? Corbin would be a no go too, knowing she'll pry even more insistently than Darry. Then maybe go kick whatever perpetrator there is where the sun doesn't shine. Darry just scoffs, trying to play it off.

" Heh, whatever, whatever I don't care."

Trisha then leans up to tune on the radio only to get crazy rambles, farmer reports, and about a lizard-headed demon. Annoyed with nothing decent is on, Trish gives up and shuts off the radio. Although, it's starting to sound

" Just saying that you should break it off with him, you should at least figure it out what you're going to tell Mom and Dad. They're the ones in love with the guy, or do I need to sick Mama Hen on the guy? Mmmhh? "

There was a silent pause, as Trish decides to just keep searching through different stations. Corbin not stirring at all from the back which Trish hopes would be the case for the rest of the trip.

"You wanted the back way home. That's 10 hours of preachers, farm reports..."

"Can you possibly just shut up and drive, please!"

Trish snaps. Ok, so sister is pissed, what do? Humor, the best way to go about this situation from what Darry knows. Darry then starts to sing, with a teasing smile.

"You broke my heart in two,

Now I can't find the duct tape

to put it together for you,

Come on, girl sing along now"

Darry says to his sister, oblivious to the large truck creeping behind them as he focused on the road ahead, ticking off his sister with every verse of his improvised song.

"When I met you, I thought I would die

I wanted to cry

Didn't know you were evil

or that you would hurt me

Mr. Poli-Sci-Track-Team guy,

Turns out your a twit and a real-"

HONK HONK!!!

"TAKE COVER GERRY! "

Corbin shouts in utter surprise, practically jumping out of her seat which results in her bumping her head on the ceiling turning her head in the Jenner siblings' view, to a large rusty looking truck that being driven as if it were by a crazy driver.

" What the hell is his problem?!?"

Darry cries out fearfully in his high-pitched voice that, as Corbin pointed out, happens whenever he's scared.

" Just get out of his way Darry!"

Trish demands in a panic, as the trunk honks it's horn again, still not making up its mind as it tries to ram them off the road.

"Mes Couilles Sur ton front!"

Corbin swears frantically.

( ? POV )

The smell of fear, so invigorating and addicting I just can't get enough of it. What's this? Ahhh, this scent is new, though I've only had a faint wisp of it once, I can still recognize it for it still sends a pleasurable shiver down my spine. Sharp yet sweet, with a smokey tinge to it, but now I hunger for it in a different way from food. Desire is a more appropriate word, maybe even more than my regular hunger.

I may have finally found my mate.

(Now back to the terrified Jenner Siblings and an angry Corbin)

" Let him pass you Darry! Darry what are you doing?"

"Peau de fesses!"

Trish shouts in a panicked frenzy, as Corbin continues to spit out every insult she knows in her motherland's tongue.

"Go around me!"

Darry begs as he frantically signals the driver to move around him, but this driver continues to act like a maniac ready to most likely run them all over, still honking its loud horn.

"Get off the road and let him pass you!"

Trish shouts at Darry from her own panic rising within her. Darry looks behind his shoulder with wide eyes and teeth clenched, contrasting to Corbin's " I'm so done with this" face.

" He's nuts!"

"I know he's nuts, now pull over!"

Trish demands her brother. The truck's tires squeal as the driver once again honks its horn. Darry then once again signals with his hand frantically, hoping the driver could get the message. Yet, he suspects that with those tinted windows, the guy can't see sh*t through them.

" GO around me!"

"Slow down and let him f@#$%ing pass you!"

"Caca Boudin!"

" I'm trying!"

Darry shouts to his sister, as Corbin continues to swear. Finally, the crazy driver passes them, giving them a good look at its vanity license plate that says, BEATINGU.

"Jesus."

Trish exclaims almost breathlessly, her ears pounding from the rush of blood going through her veins.

"Sh*t"

Darry breathes out, his heart still pounding against his ribcage.

" What the hell is his problem?"

Corbin shouts, knowing she wouldn't get any answers but needing to speak her frustrations out anyway.

"My guess,"

Darry then sticks his head out the open side window, and shouts in the wind to the now distant driver,

"INBREEDING!!!"

They watch for a bit as the truck gets smaller and smaller, finally disappearing from view. Corbin just facepalms at Darry's remark, shaking her head. Oh, she loves the knucklehead, but why is he so idiotic? She just knows one day it's going to get him killed.

" Get a load of that nasty old thing. What is that? The vehicle of choice for assholes and f*cking serial killers?"

Darry asks rhetorically, his knuckles going white from how tightly he was gripping the steering wheel.

" Everyone ok?"

Corbin asks with concern in her green eyes.

"Yeah."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, just had the piss scared out of me, but otherwise just fine."

Darry comments which had Corbin having to hold in a smile and chuckle. She then elects to look at forward ahead of them, her eyes glued to where the manic driver went off to. She lets out a huff through her nose as she leans back against the window.  Silence took over for a brief time until Trish is the first to break the silence.

"Yeah, hey you know what I just thought of?"

Darry gives a knowing look as he briefly glances at his sister.

" Kenny and Darla? Trish, they died about a 100 miles from here"

"It's the same highway."

' Poor Kenny and Darla. '

Corbin tells herself as she recalls the news of their prom night. They were just heading home from the night of their lives when apparently their car smashed with the roof ripped open with their bodies nowhere in sight. She could still recall seeing the image of their wrecked car smoldering at the side of the road with glass everywhere. Who could've done that? 

"No no, they never found her head."

Corbin says butting in in the sibling's conversation. Darry nods his head glancing at Corbin.

"They found the car. Didn't find him or her head."

Corbin then takes Trisha's hand into her own.

"Goodness, you're still shaking Trisha."

Corbin gently told Trisha and then hands her a bottle of ice tea as Darry continues.

"You don't think every generation has their cautionary tale, of drinking and driving on prom night?"

Trisha shakes her head no, unscrewing the bottle of ice tea to take a huge swig out of it.

"I always heard it was true. Wheaton Valley High, class of '78."

She takes another gulp of the drink, a dry chuckle coming from her.

"Heh, want to know something?"

Corbin nods and Darry hums to signal that he's listening.

"When I first heard that story... I used to think this was the highway I would die on."

Silence is what filled the car for a brief moment until Corbin comments,

" Well aren't you just a ray of sunshine?"

Corbin replies with a deadpan expression before giving a teasing grin, knowing not to take her pedantic moments to seriously. She just had to make friends with a drama queen, huh?

"I agree, quite the cheery think today, aren't we sis?"

Darry asks rhetorically before giving a small chuckle.

"What? What's Poli-Sci-Guy been doing to you anyway?"

A snarl forms on Corbin's facial features as her blood starts to boil.

" I don't like that guy's vibe, just something up with him."

Corbin retorts, her tone going down an octave as she claws at the back of their seats. Trisha looks back at her friend, raising at her attitude and feeling some annoyance bubbling inside of her. But before she could tell Corbin off, her brother spoke to her once more.

" Beating you? "

Darry says which in turn made Trisha and Corbin turn their heads to him in confusion.

" There was a license plate on the van we just saw, B-E-A-T-N-G-U. So beating you."

Darry cries out in victory.

"That's mine. That's 3 to 5!

"You can't call it now."

Trisha counters, smiling to herself.

"My ass!"

Darry complains. Corbin just lays her head on the back of Trisha's seat.

" Sacre bleu, you guys get over it!" 

Corbin complains exasperated by the bickering about the sibling's game but had a slight grin to her face in amusement. It's so cute to see them acting like little children, showing just how close and annoying they are. Just like with her own sister.

"No cause, You have to call it when you see it."

Trisha explains to Corbin. 

" I was in shock!"

"Does it really matter?"

Darry insists, as Corbin just rolls her eyes and leans back to her seat, unbeknownst to them, she was holding a hand over her mouth to hold in her chuckles at the ridiculousness of it all.

"Tough!"

Trisha argues back.

(Corbin's POV)

The bickering went on for a while as they both exchange insults like middle school children, arguing over the rules of their game. Just like the day, I met them. And now they're arguing over license plates, and still annoying the hell out of me. Good times. Do you know what's not a good time? Getting almost ran over by a crazy driver, in an ol' rust bucket with wheels. The heck does he think he's doing? At least I'm guessing he's a guy from what I can tell; although something about that driver didn't sit right with me. I mean, who puts a cowcatcher on a truck?!?

Not to mention the glass was very tinted; anyone who looked at that thing would've thought that thing came straight from a horror movie. I hope we don't run into that guy again, as much as they can be a pain in the ass at times; I don't wish anything to fall upon Darry and Trisha. My gut's telling me something's going to go wrong, and my gut hasn't failed me yet.

A/N: Don't forget to comment, like, reblog, and whatever else! Stay weird, my fellow humans.

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[mlobsters]

supernatural s10e9 the things we left behind (w. andrew dabb)

all right so i think this is the one i knew was lurking ahead of us, again thought there'd be more mark-related buildup before we got here

deleted a rambling paragraph about thinking the show is out of ideas, yet another troubled teen

he never laughs like this, reminds me of the scene when sam gets glitterbombed by the clowns in s7e14 also written by dabb (and loflin) (i included a clip of that scene because it was so cute). sam's always so confused/concerned when dean's laughing that much (but i mean it rarely happens on screen so i'm concerned too this time around)

but i'm glad he relaxed and enjoyed it too. and that dean was so into the grilled cheese sam made for him. but like, could they find a more uncomfortable place to sit to chill and watch tv? maybe on the cold concrete dungeon floor next time? were the men of letters anti-couch?

how many plotlines are we gonna jam in. dean and sam's business, claire and cas, rowena and crowley

claire novak / big little lies - kathryn newton as abigail carlson

she's so pretty and i like the styling they did for her

CLAIRE You’ve changed. The Castiel I met? He was crappy. Like super stuck-up and a dick and you just wanted to punch him in his stupid angel face. CASTIEL I don’t think I was THAT bad. CLAIRE You totally were. And now you’re just … I don’t know. Nicer. And kind of a doof. No offense.

no lies detected

DEAN Cas, listen to me. There’s some stuff you just got to let go. Okay? The people you let down, the ones you can’t save … You got to forget about them. For your own good. CASTIEL Is that what you do? DEAN That’s the opposite of what I do. But I ain’t exactly a role model.

mhm

working the wet kitten heart eyes overtime

DEAN Cas, I need you to promise me something. CASTIEL Of course. DEAN If I do go dark side, you got to take me out. CASTIEL What do you mean? DEAN Knife me. Smite me. Throw me into the freakin’ sun, whatever. And don’t let Sam get in the way, because he’ll try. I can’t go down that road again, man. I can’t be that thing again.

don't like it

didn't we do creeper dad with orphans in a house schtick already? god what even was that episode about. ugh. was that paige? whatever her actual name was. okay, yes, krissy. s8e18 my post where i mentioned cult vibes. (i searched for cult in my blog. no dice. so damned frustrating because i link to my shit all the time and i know the words i used and it doesn't even help. rrrgh tumblr pLEASE fucking fix this)

is the mark making dean extra hungry?

DEAN Whoa, hey, Miley Cyrus. Settle. CLAIRE Eat me, Hasselhoff.

ooh (fully justified) burn

the exact last thing dean needs to hear

i dunno, man. yeah, the whole business with angels swooping in and taking how many people away from their families? a very valid problem that they just ignored basically. so now we're gonna have a big moral reckoning over it via this kid? just feels. forced

ruth connell (rowena) is listed at 5'2" but she seems smaller than that. maybe it's these full length nearly hobble skirts they have her in

mark sheppard just seems to bring out the best in everyone, quite compelling scene here between crowley and rowena (esp considering i'm hard pressed to care). and well, a character likely just as wily as he is, good match to play around with

CASTIEL I thought I could make it up to her. SAM I don’t think you can. I mean, Jimmy was her father, and to some people, that’s … that’s everything, you know? CASTIEL No, I don’t. I never knew my father. He was distant, to say the least. What about you? Did you love your father? DEAN With everything I had. SAM Yeah. Yeah. I mean, it wasn’t always easy, but yeah. DEAN I mean, look. John Winchester’s not going to win any “Number One Dad” awards, you know? But you know… damn if he wasn’t there when we needed him.

right, you know i have major beef with john over the child neglect. i can't let it go. like, he was there when you needed him? when exactly? like all those times canonically we saw you calling him and he didn't show up? dean's dying in the hospital? (nevermind the not being there for their childhood that we see onscreen) i just. no :p

DEAN Somehow, we convince him to let us go. So, we all go. We all, you know, see all the sights, and uh, ride the subway, eat too much pizza. The whole nine. Well, by about midnight, Sam and Dad are zonked, and I figure… Screw it. I’m going to CBGB.

love sam's face listening to dean's story. i don't think we've had a long stories like this before? it's cute. like jackles and padalecki telling a story at con :p

CASTIEL I know. It’s where The Ramones and Blondie got their start. DEAN Right. SAM Wow. Anyways, he was WAY underage at the time.

--

DEAN Then this girls walks up and she says “Hey, why don’t you come over and sit down with me and my friends at our table?” All right! SAM Yeah, and they get him drunk. First time. DEAN But not fun drunk. I’m not quite sure what was in that stuff, but the room starts to spin, and I feel like I’m going to puke … forever.

dad saved him from being roofied? i don't see how else that could be understood. fucking weird.

DEAN Yeah, and you know what he got for that? Me whining about how much he embarrassed me. Me telling him that I hated him. But then he stopped and turned around and he looked at me and he said, “Son, you don’t like me? That’s fine. It’s not my job to be liked.” SAM “It’s my job to raise you right.”

Y'ALL. i had to cover my mouth and if my kids weren't sleeping i would have screamed. ARE YOU KIDDING ME. whew

per usual i could do without the attempted rape.

SAM Tell me you had to do this. DEAN I didn’t … I didn’t mean to. SAM No. Tell me it was them or you!

well, there it is. i truly don't know where we go from here