#i always get mixed feelings about this shit

[nenemura]

RAINY DAYS — (nrk x reader)

summary : you spend a rainy day with your boyfriend.

cw : bf!riki x fem!reader, fluff, kissing

wc : 0.7k

nene’s note : ik it sucks but this is a little tiny work while i try to finish the longer ones……. pls bear w me

you loved rainy days.

the cozy atmosphere that it created while staying inside, maybe under a warm blanket, truly gave you solace. your boyfriend’s presence right next to you, providing extra warmth, was the cherry on top.

you and riki were supposed to have a fun outdoor date, but the plan eventually fell apart when dark clouds invaded the sky, bringing with them loud thunders and heavy rain. since the weather decided for the two of you to stay in, you decided to catch up with a TV show you two wanted to watch together but always put off because of other priorities.

riki’s arm was lazily resting over your shoulder, his warmth embracing you completely. your head leaned against his chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breathing, a quiet rhythm that brought you an unspoken sense of comfort. occasionally, you would feel his soft, full lips on your temple, making you smile and snuggle closer to him.

you glanced up to look at him for a moment, seeing his concentrated expression. you observed him carefully, how his long lashes adorned his pretty shaped eyes, how his small yet sharp nose complimented his face, how plump his lower lip was trapped in between his teeth because of an intense scene in the show. you had long forgotten about it, completely focusing on the boy by your side, who didn’t take long to notice he was the center of your attention.

“hm?” he hummed, tilting his head to look down at you, a small and subconscious pout forming on his lips. you couldn’t help but smile and bring one of your hands on his cheek, caressing his cheekbone softly with your thumb. riki didn’t think too much of it, used to you being touchy, and immediately leaned in, pressing his lips against yours in a quick — yet soft — peck. “do you not like the show?” he asked, pressing a button on the remote to pause it. you shook your head, still admiring your boyfriend’s handsome face as if it was one of the most precious works of art in the world.

“you’re just pretty” you mumbled, thumb now delicately grazing his lower lip. a lovesick smile spread across your face as you took in his features, the soft glow of affection in your eyes. riki’s eyes widened at the sudden compliment, scoffing softly, as if trying to brush it off, but the warmth spreading through his face betrayed him. he buried his face in the crook of your neck, his breath hot against your skin as he tugged you closer by the waist. his large, cold hands slipped beneath your t-shirt, fingertips brushing over your warm skin. you could feel him drawing lazy, abstract patterns on your back, the gentle motion sending a mix of chills and comfort through you.

“you can’t say shit like that so suddenly” he whispered against your neck, his lips barely touching the skin. you let out a giggle, shaking your head at his antics as you brought a hand to his nape to play with his hair. “i just said you’re pretty, you big baby,” you replied, leaning back a little to get him to look at you. “are you blushing right now?” your eyes widened slightly as soon as you noticed how his cheeks turned a soft shade of pink, the sight making you giggle once more.

he groaned and hid his face against your neck once again, leaving kisses here and there to distract you from his flustered state. “not. fair.” he muttered, his lips tracing from your neck to your jaw, finally looking into your eyes once again. “you’re killing me here, i hate you.” he kissed your lips one more time, his words saying one thing, while his eyes revealed something completely different. you shook your head and wrapped your hands around him, pulling him into a tight embrace. “i love you too, idiot” you playfully whispered, your voice muffled as you buried your face in his chest.

his arms tightened around you, holding you as though you were the only thing that mattered. despite his words, the way he clung to you said anything you needed to hear.

[esotericbluntbaby]

stoner! hamzah x reader headcannons (sfw and nsfw)

mentions: weed, explicit activities

sfw!

- definitely looks insanely hot when the lighter is in front of his face. the room is dark with only his features lighting up from the fire in front of him. he feels the same about you when you decide to light your own blunt too.

- however, he prefers lighting for you. in fact, he prefers rolling for you too. i mentioned in my bf!hamzah headcannons that his love language is acts of service, which definitely shows when you two smoke together. he feels like smoking together is intimate and would like to do the basics for you so you don't have to.

- he puts your needs ahead of his when it comes to being high. if you look paranoid or scared at all, especially the first time you two smoke together, he's by your side at all times. if he thinks you're about to be sick, he'd hold your hair back while you're throwing up. he whispers reassurance in your ear if you get paranoid or sick, genuinely worrying for your well-being.

"it's okay, i'm here."

"shhh, it'll be okay. you're okay, i promise."

"i know it's scary but i'll stay with you the whole night if i have to."

- i feel like hamzah's the type to have the munchies when he smokes. he'd take you through some drive through and order a shit load of food for you two to share, since he never skimps on variety. you two probably end up laughing at absolutely nothing, blasted and eating crunchwraps from taco bell.

- slow kisses and hitting the cart/blunt with every breath apart. he takes his time kissing you. the look he gives you while his eyes are red and lidded makes you go absolutely insane and he knows it; he knows the effect he has on you as soon as he suggests getting high.

- sometimes, you guys get high at night and go to a mountain parking lot overlooking the city to look at the skyline. you smoke and talk and kiss and cuddle and the view is an added bonus to the fact that you're there with him. if you get cold, he gives you a blanket from his car or gives you his hoodie and cuddles with you. hamzah, however, rarely looks at the city skyline. his eyes are always on you.

"the city's over there, hamzah."

"i don't care about the city."

"why are we here then?"

"because you like the city and i care about you."

- hamzah gets insanely clingy when he's high. if you leave him, he follows you around no matter where you're going. i think sometimes he gets a little paranoid if he smokes too much, so he sees you as his comfort. he knows you're there for him, so he needs to be around you in order to feel safe.

nsfw!

- hamzah initiates long makeouts when you two are high. like i said in the sfw portion of this post, he likes the intimacy of being high together. he wants to savor every bit of you, so he goes painfully slow with his movements.

his hand grips your ass as he pulls you on top of him, straddling him, wanting to be as close as he could be with you. his tongue moves in your mouth as painfully slow as possible, leaving you yearning for more. it's an act of desperation, an act of desire; he knows what you want, yet, he'll wait to give it to you. you taste the gum he was chewing with the essence of weed from earlier mixed with the natural taste of his saliva, a taste you're all too familiar with; a taste you crave.

- in addition to being painfully slow, he's also a tease. he knows that you want to go quicker and faster with the movements you both partake in, but he doesn't see the fun in that. he wants you to beg for him; beg for his touch, beg for his agility, beg for all of him.

"hamzah."

"patience, baby. you'll get what you want."

- i feel like hamzah has an oral fixation when he smokes, like that's the reason he does it in the first place besides the goal of getting high. his mouth is everywhere on you, sucking, biting, and kissing. he kisses your neck the most when he's high, leaving hickies ranging in size everywhere. i could see him being someone who slowly moves down your body, marking every inch of you. simultaneously, he'd bite the skin of the marks he gave you and kiss it; both actions foil each other, obviously, but him giving it to you is the best of both worlds. (i'd honestly write a whole fanfic about this)

- i feel like he wouldn't want head from you while you're high; you're high to relax and him pushing your head down isn't very relaxing. instead, he'd want to give you head instead. i think he'd be heavily into overstimulation, and would use his strength to manhandle your legs apart. no matter how much you're shaking, he keeps them apart for him to feast on. he is an EATER. he genuinely takes pride in how good he is at it and how good you taste to him. he definitely makes you finish more than once, even if you think you can't take it.

"hamzah, i can't- it's too much-"

"you can, just one more, baby."

- if you guys decide to genuinely have sex, he starts off slow and loving, gazing into your eyes with the same redness that reflects into his. he whispers loving remarks to you. i feel like he wants to feel all of you, as you do with him. he goes insanely deep inside of you and loves the faces you make when you feel him. he thinks your pleasure is attractive and it turns him on even more. when you finish, the ripples of pleasure is amplified from going slow and deep.

- i feel like you guys' aftercare is just sleeping together and cuddling. before you do, he definitely praises you for how good you were for him. he tells you he loves you and that he doesn't know what he'd do without you in his life. you do the same to him.

you nestle your face into his neck, kissing lightly at the skin, "i love you so much."

he kisses your forehead in the same position, "i love you too, baby. go to sleep, i'll be here when you wake up."

authors note

what's up guys i haven't done my calc homework but i wrote this instead! i've been writing daily, so i think i'll try to stick to writing daily but no promises. it's like 1:52 in the morning and i have school tomorrow but i just needed to stock the hamzah fics for today. have a good day my babies <3 :3

[waynes-multiverse]

Aww, glad you enjoyed the first part of this! I tried to capture him as best as I could. I definitely had too much fun with all the twists 😂🤍

(A hot tub in the back, huh? Wayne, stop giving me ideas for ESC one-shots. 🥵🫠)

Yesssss, girl! Please write that!!! 🥵🔥🫠

Ooh yep! You really picked up on aspects of Russell's personality that I felt inherently when I was watching (studying) him, but hadn't consciously put into words. 👌🏽

He's for sure a little enigma 😏 (and a little shit lol) I found it interesting when I read the books that he was described as reclusive, and even though he comes off as charming and quirky in the show, I still get the feeling he's hiding the biggest stuff underneath the surface... I really wanted to showcase that his behavior and words don't always match his feelings and thoughts 👀

It's also so interesting (and crazy) how little Russ and Colter know about each other now as men. There's got to be shades of who they were when they were younger, but it's bittersweet in a sense. And now they're both trying to suss each other out like lone wolves that are kinda sorta friends. 😂

Yesss!!! That's always something I wanted the show to address, so I had to weave it in there! 😂 And considering they grew up pretty isolated and only had each other, it made sense to me they would've had a pretty close relationship as children (kinda like Sam and Dean if they'd ever been ripped apart for 20+ years 🥲)

But naturally, they wouldn't trust one another fully after all this time. I had a lot of fun writing their suspicion mixed in with brotherly banter 🤓

Okay, this whole thing with the reader is fascinating. Because why does he have to go through all this trouble to find her if they've been a thing for 10...12...14...20-something years?! (Love how the number in Russell's "memory" just kept getting longer. 🤣🤣)

Russell giving vague estimates of numbers actually became a running gag lol I used it first in the prequel before sprinkling it in here too 😂😂

Not the "we were on a break" gif 🤣🤣 (But the topic of how broken up they really were comes up in the next part lmao)

I'm full of questions, but I know you have a brilliant master plan for all of this. I've noticed this about the most recent stories you've created, but you're so very good at writing these law enforcement/military men paired with heroines that share their world, almost the "same foxhole" type of deal. Except for that his heroine partners usually outrank him. 😏

Haha thanks!! I honestly think I get hung up too much on details and then it escalates into a monstrosity 😂

And you already now I love all things SVU, crime etc. A year ago, I then got super into spy/CIA novels and media (Homeland, The Americans etc.), so I've been dreaming to write something like this for ages and jumped on the chance with Russell's background 🤓

Lol yes they always outrank him, don't they? I might go with the "tough love" approach a little too much, but I always feel like the Beaus, Deans, Soldier Boys, and Russells of this world need that 😂🫶

Also something about a little submission in a strong guy is a turn-on... 🫠

I tend to go the opposite route, partly because I'm interested in the dynamic between these kinds of men and a "civilian," but also because I don't think I'd be able to do the "same foxhole" trope justice. So that's something I really admire about you as a writer. 💜

Oh, I know! It's actually why I love your stories so much because you go the opposite route of me and I get a different experience. I usually struggle more with the "civilian" characters 😂 For fluffier fics, I go more civilian as well, but I clearly had an agenda for this one lmao

The push and pull banter between Colter and Russ in this chapter was also so fun to read lol. I could literally quote every moment because it was all so well-written and priceless. And it just kept building up the mystery of the reader and why Russell is doing all of this, right up until that awesome cliffhanger!!

Aww, thanks! That means a lot 🥰 I had so much fun writing those two. At some points, they even gave me Sam & Dean vibes 🥲❤️

Thanks so much for that sweet comment, Alex!!! 🤍

Btw, I'm so excited to read the last parts of ATW and the ESC one shots!! I so wanted to read them before the new year, thinking a week-long stay with baby's grandparents would get me some Mommy time, but... family. My husband actually sent me this after we left and I still feel it deeply 😂👇

The Exit Strategy – Part 1

Summary: Russell is ready to hang it all up and retire, open up a brewery, and enjoy the rest of his civilian life. However, there's one important thing missing before he can take the big plunge. Luckily, he knows just the right person to help him find it.

Pairing: Russell Shaw x Female!Reader

Warnings: +18, language, mystery, a tinge of angst, humor & brotherly banter, one tiny surprise 🤓

Word Count: 5.8k

A/N: Happy holidays, guys! Enjoy 🎄❤️

Main Masterlist || Series Masterlist || Tag List

Part 1: This Is Not a Pipe

The heavy truck door slammed shut behind him as Russell slid into the passenger seat with an exhaustive sigh. Colter’s big pickup was parked right next to his beautiful Chevelle in that same old motel parking lot in Virginia.

Russell hadn’t moved – yet. Well, sort of. He’d been away on assignment in some frosty region for a couple of weeks. He wasn’t allowed to say where exactly he’d been, and he knew better than to put it into writing, so let’s just agree he was at the North Pole looking for Santa Claus.

He could’ve ended up anywhere he wanted once he touched ground in the States again, but a very appreciated phone call from a former colleague made the decision for him. Besides, Russell knew this particular motel well. The coffee was more than decent and got the job done, the owner and employees were nice, comforting, and, most of all, trustworthy, and there were always fresh towels.

“Extra fluffy for you, Mr. Russell,” Rosa, the maid, would say every morning with the brightest smile.

Oh, and they had a hot tub in the back…

“Thanks for coming, man,” Russell extended his greeting without glancing at his younger brother once. He could feel Colter’s scrutinizing eyes on him, though, drilling for answers. Granted, his request had been rather unusual, so Russell understood where his younger brother’s ever-frozen furrowed brow stemmed from.

Providing answers didn’t come easy for the older Shaw, however. In fact, it had always been sort of a problem for him – even in the past. Especially in the past. Russell never lied, but he did omit things. Important things. On purpose.

“Yeah, uh, sure,” Colter replied with a polite smile as he started the car and rolled out of the lot.

Ah, yes, politeness…

That was what they were at, although it was progressively improving. It was only the third time the brothers were seeing each other since they had reconnected. And while the last two encounters had given the Shaws some well-needed time to talk things out and build trust, Colter was still naturally wary of his estranged sibling. As was Russell.

“So, what’s this about? You were pretty vague on the phone. You in trouble?”

That finally caught Russell’s full attention. He quickly shook his head, causing his hair to fall into his face. “What? No! No… No trouble,” he swiftly assuaged his brother with a dismissive hand gesture and a lighthearted chuckle. “Just need your help tracking down an old friend of mine, is all.”

Colter quirked an eyebrow at that. “Another Army buddy of yours?”

“Uh, something like that, yeah,” Russell replied rather mysteriously and didn’t even try to conceal the fact that he was hiding something more behind his ambiguous answer. But Colter only intensified his stare at him and wouldn’t let go that easily. Russell knew that. After all, they were related.

Persistence was a Shaw family trait. Another survival skill, if you will.

But this time, Russell wasn’t hiding a big government secret (or maybe he was). No lives depended on this particular mission (or so he thought). He wasn’t protecting a client, a company, or even his dubious employer (but someone else). He wasn’t choked by an NDA or about to save someone in grave danger (as far as he knew).

No, if anything, it was the fact that Russell didn’t know how much he could or should share with his brother. They were related, yes. But, technically, they hadn’t seen each other in decades, so they weren’t just considered merely estranged but strangers. Russell had always been aware of that fact, and Colter was beginning to catch on.

Especially during this mission.

See, once upon a time, the two hadn’t been just brothers. After moving to the cabin, societal contacts became scarce for the siblings. All they had was them. They were friends. Best friends. Always competitive, but friends nonetheless.

How much did they really know about each other now, though? How much of the old was still there?

“So, who are we looking for? What’s the guy’s name?” Colter asked, suddenly eager as he jumped into gear. He had always been restless, even as a kid, which fondly reminded Russell of their childhood.

But how much was he still the Russell that Colter once knew?

Well, Russell, on the other hand, remained calm and ruffled a casual hand through his beard. “Well, she’s, uh–”

Eyebrow cocked, Colter snapped his head to the passenger seat where his brother started to squirm. “Oh… Oh, so it’s a she,” he emphasized with a small grin. “Now I think I get it.”

There it is. I knew it, Russell thought with an internal sigh. In order for this mission to work, he knew he had to reveal some things. Private things. Things about himself and his life. Going in, Russell knew he couldn’t ask Colter for help without giving him something.

Their father had loved tests (and so did you – but that’s another story…). Russell always thought it had been the professor in him. So, Russell saw this as a test as well.

Could he trust Colter? And more pressingly, considering some long held accusations of murder, did Colter trust him?

A clear of Russell’s throat cut right through Colter’s chuckle. And then, the eldest tried his best to give no reaction at all. “Yes, she’s a… woman, but hold your horses. It’s not what you think, okay?” Colter lifted his eyebrow once more, causing Russell to heave another exhaustive sigh. “Fine, alright? It’s exactly what you think.”

Well, close enough, Russell thought. He knew Colter couldn’t even possibly imagine the reality in his wildest dreams.

Usually, Russell was an expert in avoiding uncomfortable questions. He was a pro at ditching answers and keeping secrets, even under torture and duress. However, there was just something entirely unique about dodging questions posed by little brothers.

And Russell saw it as a perfect bonding opportunity. He wanted to fill the chasm between them that their father’s death had caused – once and for all. But he couldn’t lie and say he wasn’t walking around on eggshells most of the time – something that reminded him of you again.

Learning from past mistakes, Russell wanted Colter to experience the fun side of him. The one that brewed his own beer, cared too much about his car, and had weird tastes in food. He chose to leave out the rest – the dark stuff and the very best stuff, too.

After all, Russell was good at omitting things.

Colter chuckled triumphantly. “Does this mean you’re finally giving up on Reenie?”

Amused, Russell let out a snort. “Ha! You wish… First things first, alright? Let’s just see how this thing pans out. It’s kind of a long shot. You know that exit plan I told you about?”

“Yeah, you wanna open your own brewery, right?”

“Yeah, well, let’s just say in an ideal world this, uh, woman would be part of that exit,” Russell said and sounded purposely casual as if he didn’t care the mission was successful or not in the end, omitting yet another thing – he did care.

He cared a fucking lot.

“Really? Okay.” Colter scratched his jaw and gave his words some thought. Then he offered a small, yet kind, smile. Honestly, Russell didn’t know what he had expected. “But, you know, if you want me to find the future Mrs. Shaw, I’m gonna need more information to go on. A name, last address, or a-, uh, a picture, maybe?”

“Well, name’s not gonna help you much in this case.” Your first name might’ve been shareable intel, but your last name was of the highest classification. “Her last address that I know of was in Berlin. And while I do have one photo of her, it’s not meant for your eyes, brother,” Russell said with a firmly territorial look that still carried a mischievous twinkle, revealing the exact nature of the photograph to be indeed inappropriate.

Russell had one naughty photo, yes. But he had a whole giant box of others, too.

Colter’s eyebrows met above his nose as he licked his lips. Customarily, people gave him more details when they needed him to find someone. But then again, those people usually weren’t his brother. “Do you know anything about this woman? How long have you two dated?”

“Uhm… not that long,” Russell supplied with a clear of his throat before mumbling the rest of his answer, hoping his beard would swallow most of his words. “Ten years. Give or take…”

What is time anyway if nothing but a concept, right?

Colter blinked at him and almost steered the vehicle off-road before gripping the wheel a little tighter. “I’m sorry… Did you just say ten years?”

“Well, might be more like twelve,” he admitted finally. “Well, anyways, saw her last three years ago.”

“Wow, okay, uhm…” Colter became quiet for a moment, speechless probably, the tiny bits of information running on a loop through his mind. He figured his brother still had lived a life while they hadn’t been speaking. Of course he had. He just never thought about what that life might have entailed, aside from classified military operations. “So, you’ve dated a woman for twelve years…”

“Fourteen.”

“…haven’t seen her in three, and know basically nothing about her?”

Russell snorted a laugh. “Yeah, I know. Ridiculous… Not even sure the name she did give me was her real one,” he said. It was a joke. He did know the name. He knew everything there was to know about you. So, maybe he did lie – sometimes. “But it’s the job, you know? It’s-, uh, it’s complicated.”

That part was true. Truer than he could ever possibly describe in words.

“I guess so…” Colter sighed, and Russell could hear the growing frustration. “So, she does what you do?”

Russell nodded. “In a way, yeah…” And Colter knew what that answer meant – he couldn’t say more. Again. “But don’t worry. We won’t have to turn over every stone on the face of this planet. I have a general idea of where she lives these days,” Russell provided. “One of my, uh, associates was working a job with her not that long ago. That’s how I found out she’s back in the States.”

Colter nodded in acceptance, knowing it was no use to try and prod more answers out of his brother. “Alright. Guess that’s something. So, where are we headed to?”

Russell then flashed him a grin with newfound determination sparkling in his green eyes. “Falls Church.”

The short drive had remained quiet for the most part. Colter refrained from asking more questions, knowing he wouldn’t be able to get straight answers out of his older brother in one form or the other. To accentuate Colter’s assumption of receiving non-answers, Russell mostly stared out the window with an intensity that had Colter believe his brother was counting trees when, in fact, Russell was pondering what he would, could, or should tell Colter.

Of course, Colter could also always ask more questions about their elusive father, but he didn’t do that either. Sure, one could say he was curious. More than that even.

What did Russell really know about his death? Their mother? Their family? Their work?

Another time, he kept telling himself throughout whenever he stole glances at his long-lost sibling. It was too soon. What was the point when Russell was so clearly reluctant to share anything at all?

Thus, there was nothing left but silence among peaceful woods and dense foliage till Colter pulled his truck over curbside in the idyllic town center of Falls Church.

Patiently, he waited a moment for Russell to open the floor and tell them their next logical steps. He tapped his fingers against the steering wheel, blew raspberries, clicked his tongue, and waited and waited and waited…

Nothing.

If Colter didn’t know any better, he would’ve thought someone carved a lifeless wax statue out of his brother and planted it on his passenger seat. Russell’s entire body stood motionless, only a set of green eyes flickered alive every once in a while and swayed out the windshield in search of something – or someone.

“So, what’s the plan here?” Colter asked with a clear of his throat. “You just wanna stay here and wait till she accidentally runs across the street?” It was meant as a joke, but to Colter’s dismay, Russell remained dead serious.

“That’s exactly what we’re doing,” the older Shaw confirmed and squinted his eyes at the busy street. Again, he had omitted a few things. In his mind, Colter didn’t need to know why Russell knew to be in front of the post office at exactly 15:03 (UTC–4) on a Tuesday.

Colter snorted a laugh. “What? C’mon, that can’t be the plan… Do you know how many people live in Falls Church? Or in the general Washington metropolitan area? We could be here for days. Weeks even…” The younger Shaw then switched fully into work mode, grabbing his phone from the Bluetooth car mount. “We’re never gonna find her like this. You got a phone number, maybe?” But before Russell could answer, Colter replied himself, shaking his head at his own silliness. “What am I even asking? Of course you don’t.”

Russell only smirked at that. Restless, he thought again.

“What about an old one? Maybe even that would help. I could call Bobby, Reenie… You got anything? Nothing?” But the younger Shaw’s questions apparently stumbled upon deaf ears. “Russell? Russ? Are you even listening to me? I’m trying to help you here. You could at least–”

“Found her!”

Russell almost jumped out of the car as his voice rang with sheer excitement. His heart was beating a mile a minute when his emerald eyes landed on the target. It felt like the very first time all over again.

Granted, the first meeting didn’t go so smoothly – there had definitely been some bumps (all on his part). Then again, he expected this next meeting to go a little roughly too (again, all on him).

“Wait, what?!”

Russell downright beamed. “Told you this would work.”

Colter only scoffed under his breath, the familiar competitiveness crawling back to the surface. “Yeah, well, beginner’s luck, okay?”

One boot had nearly touched asphalt before Russell remembered this wasn’t a situation that required him to storm in guns a-blazing – not even covert. Gentle hands, he reminded himself and swiftly closed the car door again, falling back into his seat. His lungs deflated.

Colter, on the other hand, was more confused than ever. “What-, uh, what are you doing?” Half-amused, his brow furrowed a bit more. “If you’ve found her, go talk to her. Where is she? Who is it?”

Curiosity could only be contained for so long. Colter wanted to know who had been a part of his brother’s life for almost as long as he had. He felt this was a key piece of information that would cause the first domino to fall. And then, revelation after revelation about Russell’s past would unravel.

Basically, Colter was waiting for the big epiphany. No pressure.

Russell vehemently shook his head. “Can’t. At least not like this. I need more intel first. You need to find out her name, and then we need your guy Bobby to get onto this.”

And yet again, guess what? Yes, Russell was, indeed, omitting things.

“Me? Why me?” Colter blinked at him. Surprise, surprise…

“‘Cause, obviously, she’d recognize me,” Russell pointed out. Again, omission. Like he had explained earlier, it was a real problem…

Colter exhaled a deep sigh. “Okay, and I’m guessing you’re still not gonna tell me why we’re doing all of this, right?”

“Nope.”

“Yup, thought so.” Still not convinced, Colter narrowed his eyes at his clearly paranoid brother. Maybe paranoia ran in the family. Not to point fingers – he recognized it in himself, too. “Do we really need to go through all that trouble? I mean, you’ve known that woman for, what, fourteen years, you said? Isn’t that a little extreme… even for you?”

Fifteen, Russell corrected in his mind. Close to sixteen. Nineteen max.

“Just trust me, okay? It’s necessary,” Russell reassured, knowing those words bore some weight. Hurriedly (he was getting antsy – this was a time-sensitive issue), he pointed a finger out the window to the sidewalk across the street. “You see that woman walking into the post office? That’s her.”

“What, the brunette in the flowery dress with the golden cross necklace? That’s her?”

“Yup.”

“Wow, okay…” Surprised didn’t come close to explain how Colter felt. He had expected… different. His brow almost met his hairline, but he still tried his best to conceal his wonder – to no avail.

Suspiciously, Russell leaned back in his seat and assessed his brother’s demeanor with a small glare. “What?”

“Nothing.” Colter threw his hands up in surrender, swallowing. “Just… She doesn’t really seem like your type.”

Amused, Russell stifled a chuckle. “And what exactly do you think is my type, little brother?”

“I don’t know…”

“What, you think some nice Christian girl is too good for me?” Russell deadpanned. Admittedly, he enjoyed bantering with his little brother. It reminded him of what he had missed out on for years. This was what he had wanted and longed for since he had left the family at eighteen.

Well, “left” wasn’t really the right word for it now, was it? It implied a voluntary act, and his leaving wasn’t so voluntary.

“That is exactly what I’m saying,” Colter countered, laughing. “It’s just, you know… dental hygienist in a motel hot tub springs to mind.”

“Okay, alright… You done?” Russell huffed, shaking his head. He refrained from showing his honest amusement. “You’re gonna follow her in or not?”

“Alright, I’ll go,” Colter finally agreed somewhat enthusiastically and jumped out of the car, swiftly following the woman inside. After all, he was curiouser and curiouser…

Russell kept his eyes trained on his younger brother until Colter vanished inside the post office. Now, it was out of his hands, only hoping his little brother wouldn’t blow it. Chances were high he would. Not that Russell didn’t have some faith.

He just had more faith in you.

Colter spotted you picking up mail from a PO box and decided on a plan of action in a matter of seconds. After all, he was quick thinking on his feet and the best at what he did. That’s why he was here. That’s why Russell had picked him for the job, right?

As you made your way back to the door, Colter eloquently intercepted you without disturbing the crowd. Another thing he had learned from his father.

He bumped straight into your shoulder and almost tackled you to the ground by the sheer force of his sneak attack. The mail in your hands scattered to the tiled floor like autumn leaves, and as Colter bent down to help you pick it up, he took a peek at your name on a postcard.

“Oh my God, would you look at that… I’m so sorry, Miss–,” the younger Shaw apologized clumsily, “Nora Laurier.” He uttered your name with a suave smile as he handed you back your pile of letters. The flirt in his eyes, however, he only added for Russell as revenge for Reenie. “Beautiful name.”

Your hands lingered on the letters between you for a moment as you took in his features and tall stature. It left you with a strange haunting of familiarity.

“Thank you,” you finally said with a hint of a smile as he let go of the mail. “Be more careful next time.”

“I will. Sorry again.” Colter chuckled with blushed cheeks and watched you leave. He waited till you had passed the row of windows before exiting himself.

He was a good actor, too.

Antsy, Russell almost bit his lip bloody as he stared the post office down till a migraine began to form. God, what he wouldn’t pay for some X-ray vision and super-hearing. He could be downright Superman with that – and the hero always got the girl.

His heart dithered anew with longing as you walked out – it took his breath away. You always did that, and you did it well. But then, you stopped short for a mere second, which wouldn’t have caused a civilian to raise a single brow. But Russell did.

“Shit…” he mumbled in the silence of the truck and lowered himself down to the dashboard. He watched you reach for your phone in your purse and call someone as you headed down the street.

Eventually, you stopped three houses east and finished your call in the shade of a tree next to a busy (and noisy) bus station. Russell caught your eyes drifting back to the doors of the post office, though, just as his little brother walked out and jogged towards the car.

“Shit, shit, shit!” Russell ducked even further down, hitting his head in several places. “What did that knucklehead do?”

The driver’s door opened as Colter casually slipped inside. “Got a name,” he announced victoriously. Part of his happiness emanated from gathering yet another puzzle piece of his mysterious brother – meeting you. “She goes by Nora Laurier now… And she seems nice. Way too nice for you, actually…” As he drifted off, his eyes searched for the elder one before finding him almost kissing the floor mat. “Russ, uh… What-, uh, what are you doing down there?”

“What the hell did you do?” Russell’s tone was both snappy and frustrated.

“Whoa, what d’you mean what did I do?” Colter waved off defensively. “I did what you told me to do!”

“She made you!”

“She did not make me,” Colter brushed off with a laugh, quite confident of his own skill set. They’d had the same teacher. He would know if you had suspected anything.

“Then why did she wait and look after you, huh?” Russell pointed out in annoyance.

Colter’s lips itched to break a smile. He couldn’t help it. It was the perfect opportunity to teach his flirt of a brother a well-needed lesson. “Well, maybe I caught her eye… piqued her interest, you know?”

Russell cocked a brow from below, his stare lethal. “Did you flirt with her?”

Colter hesitated for a moment. Mostly for dramatic effect. “I-, uh… You told me to get her name. ‘Sides, I told you Reenie was off limits.”

“Oh, so this is about revenge? Very mature.” Russell frowned. “She still there?”

“Where?” Colter stretched himself a bit as he looked out the windshield.

“Tree. Bus station.”

An amused smile formed on Colter’s lips as he spotted you. “Oh, yeah. I see her. I don’t think she suspects anything. She’s not even loo-… No, uh, wait… Yup.”

“What?” Russell’s brows drew together as he rose a little from his crouched position.

“Yeah, she’s definitely looking over here.”

“Well, stop looking down,” Russell hissed through gritted teeth. After a deep breath, he spoke in a calmer, more advising tone, “Pretend I’m not here.”

“Trying to, trust me… Should I wave at her? Smile?”

“Are you nuts?! Just look ahead. Pretend you’re getting a phone call.”

Colter did as he was told and held his phone to his ear. “She’s still looking,” he informed with a pressed smile, barely moving his mouth when he spoke.

“Okay, what’s she doing now?”

“There’s a-, uh, there’s a car coming and pulling over by the bus station. Dark gray Audi A6. Virginia Plates. Yankee-Papa-Charlie-5824,” Colter said as Russell hauled a pen from his pocket and began to jot down the plate numbers on his left palm.

“Copy that.”

He’d memorize them anyway, but one could never be too safe. He could get a concussion in the next hour or so (most likely because of you), and then what?

“Okay, she’s getting in,” Colter narrated. “Driver’s in his late-thirties. Male. Glasses. Medium height. Medium build… I think you could take him,” he added with a teasing grin.

“Shut up,” Russell retorted. “Are they gone now?”

“Pulling away from the curb and… Yep, they’re gone. Headed south down the road,” Colter affirmed.

“Alright.” Russell popped back into his seat with a sigh and some sore muscles. He had been sure he’d heard a few bones crack while he’d been cowering down there. He might be finally getting too old for these missions. But that was part of the reason why he was here in the first place – retirement was calling. And Russell wanted to fill the chair next to him on the porch.

“You good?” Colter checked and choked the small laugh that wanted to escape upon the ruffled sight of his older brother.

“Yeah, go ahead and follow them. Just keep a low profile,” Russell instructed. “On our way, you might wanna call your op analyst, too. See what he can find out.”

“Alright,” Colter agreed somewhat reluctantly but still tailed the sedan. “You sure this is a good idea?”

“What d’you mean?” Russell said mindlessly, keeping his eyes focused on the target vehicle.

“Us… stalking your ex-girlfriend?” Colter noted with a cocked brow. “And her potentially new boyfriend?”

Russell only laughed at that. “We’re good. Trust me.”

Admittedly, though, a small part of him wondered (and worried) if this was all real. Maybe Nora Laurier wasn’t your real name, but it might be your actual new one – one you’d adopted as a safety precaution after you’d left it all behind. Maybe you had finally done it and retired, found a perfectly normal guy, and settled down – just without him.

Or:

Maybe you were still in the game, after all.

Russell was hoping it was the latter. Otherwise, he could probably expect a hefty restraining order in his future, but he wasn’t about to tell Colter that. Not until he knew for sure.

The Audi parked in front of an organic grocery store a few blocks down. Colter chose a spot across the parking lot, keeping a reasonable distance with the perfect view. Russell watched as you and Unnamed Man #1 sauntered into the store, an arm slung tightly around your waist and a smile on your face.

While on the phone with Bobby, Colter could tell that the sight of you in another man’s arms stung. “Okay, uh, thanks, Bobby.”

“What’d he say?” Russell fired as soon as Colter had removed the phone even just an inch from his ear.

“Uh, well, there’s some bad news,” Colter revealed hesitantly and licked his lips, not knowing how he was supposed to break his brother’s heart. “Bobby ran the plate number through the DMV. It’s registered to an Aiden Laurier.”

“Laurier?” Undeniably, Russell’s heart flinched at the connection. “Maybe a brother. Cousin…”

Or a colleague, Russell’s mind stubbornly added.

Colter bit his lower lip hard before he spoke, “They’ve been married for two years. I’m sorry, Russ.”

A hand comfortingly patted Russell’s shoulder. A part of him wanted to scream heavenward, but something else inside was gnawing on him.

He clicked his tongue. “No… No.” Sure, one could argue that denial was always the first step of grief. “No. No way she married sweater-vest John Mulaney over there.”

“I’m pretty sure she did. Bobby sent me the marriage certificate,” Colter countered and showed him the screenshot on his phone.

Russell glanced at it for a short second, not even bothering to waste more time on fake news. He shook his head. He knew better.

“Nah. I’m not buying it. You need to go in there and tell me what you see.” He sealed his words with an encouraging pat on the shoulder.

Colter exhaled deeply. “Russ, I-, uh, I think you need to let this go, man. You’re starting to… Never mind.”

“No. Go ahead. Say it,” Russell prompted with some thunder in his voice. “I’m reminding you of Dad, don’t I?”

Colter only twitched his shoulders. “I mean, yeah. A little.”

Russell’s head bobbed in thought before he met his little brother’s eyes. “You really don’t see it?”

“See what?”

“The post office, the road crew over there, the-, the fake documents?”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“C’mon… Just think about everything Dad taught us, huh?”

Was Colter really not getting it? Russell found that quite hard to believe. He had known his little brother to be as sharp as a whip. While Russell didn’t always have the nicest things to say about their father, he could admit the old man had prepared them well for life. Well, one life at least. This one.

The nomad life, the odd jobs that required them to have a particular set of skills like Liam Neeson.

Colter shook his head. “I have no clue what you’re talking about, Russell.”

Russell let out a sigh and leaned back in his seat. “Alright, if you don’t see it, you don’t see it.” A smirk twitched in the corners of his lips. “It’s your funeral, brother…”

With narrowed eyes, Colter pursed his lips. “Alright, just tell me one thing, okay?”

“You know I can’t tell you anything,” Russell reiterated and brushed his beard.

“I know. I know… It’s not that kinda question,” the younger Shaw reassured.

“Go ahead,” Russell relented and curiously looked at his brother.

Within a second, Russell could think of a million questions Colter might want to ask him, but this hadn’t been one of them:

“In the past three years, how many times have you thought about her? And I don’t just mean ‘crossed your mind’ every couple of months. I mean ‘seriously thought’ about her?”

“Hmm.” Russell pondered for a moment before replying, “Every damn day.”

It wasn’t a lie, no omission of anything, and Colter could tell. You were the first thought that popped into Russell’s still groggy mind when he woke up and the last one every night that fluttered across his weary eyelids. Obviously, he didn’t give Colter the soppy answer, though.

“Fine. I’ll go,” Colter softened his stance. “You owe me,” he added with a pointed finger before setting foot outside the car.

“I do owe you. Anything you want, brother,” Russell agreed with a broad grin. “How about we start with a full case of my homebrew, huh?”

Colter danced gracefully through the aisles, spying through canned goods and boxes of cereal. He watched you carefully select fruit with your husband, move through the dairy talking about ���organic” and “locally sourced” till you landed on a few choices of toothpaste and finally strolled to the cash register.

Everything seemed boringly normal and ordinary. You chatted with the cashier. They handed you a coupon, which you slipped into your purse. Your husband paid with his credit card (which carried the same name matching the DMV records), and both of you left the store with two paper bags in your arms.

Once through the sliding glass doors, you stopped and turned to your husband. “Darn, honey, I think we forgot the milk.”

“You want me to grab it?”

“No, I’ll do it.”

“Okay, I’ll wait by the car and load the rest of the groceries.”

Now, Colter found that odd. He had watched you spent at least five minutes in the dairy aisle. How could you forget something as basic as milk?

As you hushed inside, your husband sauntered back to the car, and Colter followed you back in. You passed right by the dairy and, with a few looks that resembled a scan of your surroundings, you slipped past the door that led to the restrooms.

Waiting a beat, Colter went in after you. But you were long gone – just not to the restroom. An ‘Employee Only’ door that led to a dumpster alley outside was just falling shut.

Granted, Colter had a bad feeling about this. It was the same feeling he always got shortly before walking into a trap. In his defense, though, you were not a seven-foot-tall, 300-pound kind of guy. He wasn’t about to be ambushed by Shaquille O’Neal, which is probably why Colter didn’t find it necessary to pull his gun.

In hindsight, he should have.

The narrow alley was quiet and empty, except for some trash littering the ground around the dumpsters. It was closed-off, too, wedged between buildings with no view to the parking lot or nearby streets.

And then, something hit him. Or better yet: You hit him. With an elbow to the face and a stiff, flat palm to his throat, Colter stumbled forward before you gave him the final blow and knocked him off balance, tackling him to the ground.

Pressing his cheek into the rough and unforgiving surface of the asphalt, you jumped on him and restrained his arms tightly behind his back. While he squirmed to get out of your hold, he didn’t use as much brutal force as you expected he would.

“Shit,” he muttered below you, his voice muffled by the gravel. A light chuckle escaped him. “Okay, you got me.”

“Sounds about right,” you agreed with a smirk and tightened your grip on his arm.

Then, Colter heard a gun click above him. Hoping to see his brother, he looked up – only to find your husband with a weapon in hand as he stared down the barrel.

“Ah, I think you broke my nose,” the younger Shaw mumbled with a groan.

“Good. You’ve been following me. Why?” you prompted sternly. “Who are you? Who are you working for? Jafari? Mueller?”

“Listen, I-I think you’ve got the wrong idea. I’m not who you think I am,” Colter argued with a strained voice. What the hell had Russell gotten him into? “This is just a big misunderstanding.”

“Uh-huh.” You could only roll your eyes at that. How many times had you heard that line before?

“Let’s hood him. Get him to the Market,” your partner suggested. “We’ll see if he talks then.”

“No, really,” Colter insisted, growing a bit more uneasy. He had no idea what the Market was, but it didn’t sound pleasant. “You know my brother.”

“Who’s your brother?” With your elbow, you put more pressure on his back.

“Ow, alright…” Colter groaned once more as the pain intensified. “Looks kinda like me. Think two decades younger. He was in the Army, so probably didn’t have long hair and a beard. Uh, kind… green eyes? No? Doesn’t ring a bell?”

Colter watched your brow furrow in his periphery as he squinted upwards. He could see the gears starting to turn in your head. You just needed one final push to put all the puzzle pieces together.

“If it helps, my name is Colter. Colter Sh–”

“Shaw,” you shot like a missile. Your jaw plummeted to the ground, your heart springing right out with it. Your grip on the man caught between your thighs loosened, hearing Colter’s sigh of relief before you heard his voice.

“Hiya, sweetheart.”

Your head darted up, the man beneath you long forgotten. You swallowed as your eyes landed on an all too familiar face – even when it was covered by a bunch of hair that had never been there before. The heart-crushing smile was still the same as if it had been ripped straight from an old photograph you had of him.

“Russell?!”

Part 2: This Is a Russell Mission

Quite the entrance! Writing Russell reminded me somewhat of Plastic Hearts Dean (minus the addiction problems unless you count lying) because of all the wild overthinking 😂

If you enjoyed this story, then I'll gladly keep working on its prequel. Was a bit nervous to post this since I filled in some family history gaps myself 😅 I also dove into the books a little and added some things that kinda fit their "show" personalities.

Please let me know what you think and if you'd be interested in a young soldier!Russell series 😉🤍

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[11queensupreme11]

Would there be limits for the yanderes and their kids such as getting near or giving Percy (their mom) kisses and hugs too?

Let’s say Poseidon doesn’t let the kids come in their room after their 5 so posición and Percy can have time alone without their kids (for more babies)

wouldn't mind at all (in no order whatsoever):

loki. he's a good dad (surprisingly) and he understands that kids wanna give affection to their mommy especially when they're young so he genuinely doesn't mind!

anubis. ABSOLUTELY WOULD NEVER MIND. in fact, he'd want them to be affectionate with their mother! "your mommy is the best person ever so always shower her with love!!!!!" and he'd be aghast if one of his kids forgets to hug her or something 😭

cú chulainn. he'd be okay with it when they're young but when they get older, particularly with a son, he'd be a little.... irked? not genuinely annoyed, but he'd roll his eyes a bit and be like "c'mon son, don't you feel embarrassed? ur not a little kid anymore". it's more of a pride/ego thing then a "i'm sus of my son cuz he might have incesty feelings for my wife" thing.

apollo. incest is soooo rampant in his pantheon but for some reason, the thought of any of his kids gaining not-so-familial feelings for their mommy doesn't cross his head at all 😭

would absolutely mind (in no order whatsoever):

poseidon. as you all know, i'm planning on giving posy thousands of sons and no daughters so you BEST BELIEVE he's gonna HATE any signs of affection his kids make towards his daughter-wife. if you've read the shit ton of posts i made in the past about posy kids, you can't even blame him cuz these kids are THIRSTY for their mommy 💀

hades. would also be sus but wouldn't be as intense about it like poseidon. he would start off not minding any physical affection at all, even when his kids are grown he still wouldn't mind. it's only when he starts getting suspicious that his kids may like their mommy more than they should does he start discreetly limiting physical touch.

beelzebub. jealousy is a sin and beelie has that in spades. when the kids are young, he wouldn't mind but when they grow up is when he starts to get more stricter about physical affection. he'll be a mix of hades and cú chulainn by discreetly trying to stop it with little comments like "aren't you getting a little too old to act so childish with your mother?" or "do you not feel embarrassed behaving like this as a man?" etc.

[devilbrakers]

oc deep dive - gray

what common/uncommon fear do they have?

themself. losing control because of what they're capable of. they're afraid of the power they have but it also drives them to be very careful with it. most of the time.

abandonment or losing people. grief already eats them alive as it is so they're afraid of losing the people they have and getting close to anyone else.

confronting their guilt/shame and the things they've done to hurt people.

moving on from the emo shit, they find being in tight spaces unsettling.

do they have any pet peeves?

they hate mouth noises outside of kissing and horny things. loud chewing, lip smacking, etc.

being asked personal things right off the bat or just by anybody outside their inner circle 😭. they don't like small talk either but find it much more tolerable.

people who joke about not being able to keep their houseplants alive. mildly irking bc plants are so important to them. (anything nature related is the best way to get them to go "um actually 🤓")

being touched without their permission.

what are three items you can find in their bedroom?

on the move, they'll always have their weapons first and foremost. guns (mainly pistols but they have a couple shotguns and a rifle), whips, knives, etc.

potted plants

an old picture of miko, blake, and olive with them when they were a baby.

going over three but a pack of cigarettes

really messy vibes for when they settle down in one place:

what do they notice first in a person?

someone's overall demeanor, i suppose? are they confident, standoffish, nervous, shy, hiding or looking for something? even so, they're not always the best at gauging this or someone's intentions initially even though they'd tell you they are. next comes mouth and then the eyes. then an overall once over; more than that if they like what they see.

on a scale of 1 to 10, how high is their pain tolerance?

physically: 10. they don't feel pain like humans do since they're a half-demon. they're able to walk off a gunshot to the head, a sword through the stomach, demons clawing or biting them, etc. none of these things feel particularly good but they don't feel nearly as intense as they would for anybody else. they're taking pretty massive beatings on the regular.

mentally: 9. gray is... perseverant, you could say. they have good resolve and can keep their composure under frankly ridiculous circumstances. they already have a very low opinion of themselves so most things you could say to them will just get a 👍reaction.

emotionally: 6. this goes for mainly people who have managed to get close to them (eden, dmitri, dante, etc). they have a lot of mental and physical fortitude but they are very sensitive deep down. there's some tolerance for things but a huge upset is what will finally get them to lash out. their interpersonal skills are lacking as well and they're fairly unstable for a lot of their life so their reactions to conflict can be a little unpredictable.

do they go into fight or flight mode when under pressure? (Or freeze or fawn?)

it depends. gray does well under a lot of pressure most of the time. if on some off chance, they can't fight their way out, they'll go for flight.

but most of the time, they have more of a fight response. when it comes to physical altercations, they have a lot of confidence in their combat skills and rightfully so. they're stronger than any humans they've come across and most demons/monsters aren't a problem.

if they feel cornered outside of that, it's a mixed bag. fight response is their knee jerk (not necessarily via physical means) but that can get nasty really quick. if they value the relationship enough, they'll try to get away and gather their thoughts.

they're not one to fawn, really. maybe freeze if something really takes them by surprise.

what animal represents them best?

hmmm. they're like a big, nervous, intimidating looking dog from the shelter. something you can bring with you to ward off strangers and weirdos. can get aggressive if needed or sometimes when it's inappropriate. affectionate and undyingly loyal when it feels safe. i've never been all that into dog motif but it feels fitting for them.

how would a stranger likely describe them?

standoffish. rude. cold. greedy. stoic. the list goes on and it's not necessarily inaccurate except for the greed, to an extent.

physically, they have a very sharp and striking bone structure but softer facial features. tan, olive skin, big brown eyes, a slight hook to their nose, full lips, dark and wavy hair, a lanky figure hidden under baggy clothes. they have pointed ears which are often hidden behind their hair. these and their fangs can be unsettling to strangers and to themself since it makes them stand out.

smells like wet soil and cigarettes -- an acquired taste. dark undereyes and a massive amount of tattoos. there's always a suspicious look in their eyes unless they want something from you, and then they're unexpectedly charming.

do they have any hobbies?

they like to take care of plants and read about botany, and things like that. they have a lot of books on it and miko would steal college textbooks for them when they were a kid.

they draw and paint as well. they're drawn mainly to oil paints but will take what they can get.

they mess around with their guns a lot. they're not a smith by any means but some customizations are needed with how they beat the shit out of them. they naturally pull the trigger a lot faster than like. everybody else. (dante has this same problem hehe). i hc they eventually have nico make custom guns for them.

they hone their powers a lot through communicating with plant life and nature around them. it's calming and it helps keep them be more precise when controlling it. it's not all that necessary given they can just make shit out of thin air if they need it but.

they do this a lot with their devil trigger as well since it's prone to popping out when they're feeling intense emotions.

i was tagged by beloved @aztarion 🧡🧡

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[changelingsandothernonsense]

I'm curious, what are Josh's preferred alcoholic drinks? Would he like to rank them?

Helloo! Josh most certainly has a ranking system and very strong opinions on what can be found in both Morrowind and Skyrim (and may have committed crimes as a result of disliking a particular type of mead). So without further ado.

Best of the Worst- Smashing Edition!

You want my opinion on liquor? Mate, no one asks me my opinion on liquor... I mean I have opinions on drinks... a lot of opinions on drinks it's just I got told I was being a dick about it so I...

No you know what, fuck it! Here's my top an bottom fives.

5. Best- Shein

I'll be honest, I find Shein to be mid as far as drinks go. Then again, I'm pretty sure I prefer something with a flavour profile that can be described as "Dwemeri Oil" because I can't taste shit so take my opinion with a grain of salt. Shein skews a little bitter an sour if I remember rightly an it's not overly strong. It's 'ight in a pinch, yeah? But I wouldn't order it if there was other stuff on the menu.

5. Worst- Ancient Dagoth Brandy

Look, this shit's been sitting in a blight infested hole for the last five thousand years. You can believe Neloth an that fucking Ash Vampire all you want about how "developed" the vintage is but I'm always gonna come back to how it makes me feel like fucking shit! I don't drink to feel like shit, I drink to not feel like shit. So it's shit!

4. Best- Flin

I'm partial to the odd import from the heartland an Flin's one of them. It's a whisky that appeals more to Dunmeri pallets than that of Imperials but because of the old tariffs it's expensive as all fuck! If you can get your hands on it, it's worth the buzz. I can't really speak for anything produced now but when I was younger an could still taste shit it had a smooth, smokey flavour. Doesn't wack out your head so much either. 4. Worst- Greef

An your Morrowind equivalent... if you can really make a comparison. I was never a fan of anything that was comberry forward and greef is like you got a bush of the shit an threw it in a wet barrel for six years an... actually I think that's just how you make it. Point is that I started drinking it when I was like 15 coz it's cheap as all fuck. I don't know how that equates to how men age but it's like early adolescenceish. Anyway, point is I drank so much of the stuff that I was spewing for the whole next fucking day. Shit gives me a headache almost immediately these days. I'll drink it only if I'm desperate.

3. Best- Wine, just wine!

It's hard for me to find shit I like in Skyrim and Cyrodiil. Mostly because they keep insisting on mixing everything that isn't mead with milk an that's a fucking disaster waiting to happen! My go to in the lands of men is wine. It gets me sloshed an goes down well enough. I've noticed Nords like jazbay grapes but I've always found they turn shit a little... weird? I don't know how to explain it. Usually i'll order an imported wine to avoid the addition of that ingredient. Get's me nice an drunk relatively quick so that's a good enough reason for it to be here. 3. Worst- Emberbrand Wine

This isn't because it's bad, necessarily, quite the contrary if I'm honest. Like sure there's that jazbay weird going on but um... This is on my shit list because it's a bit too potent, if you know what I mean? Like I shouldn't get two cups in an start feeling an urge to commit arson, yeah?

Give it a skip if you like sleeping in your own bed.

2. Best- Sujamma

There's a reason sujamma is a popular drink back home an that's because it does a few key things- One it fucks you up well an good an two it makes you feel like you're on top of the world. Sure it fucks with your magicka but who the fuck cares when everyone sounds less fucking annoying an you feel like you could mount a wild Alit. Um... don't try that.

Geldis makes a pretty fantastic version of it. Pretty much every clan has their own recipe, so sujamma from Blacklight tastes different from what you'll find in Narsis. Regardless, it's always a treat.

2. Worst- Honeybrew Mead

Look, I just don't fucking like mead, okay? It's weak as all shit an I need like half a keg to get the same buzz I'd get after a few glasses of sujamma. That means I'm spending too much money to get my hit, an if you know me you'll know I hate having to spend fucking money! I hear that mer generally don't like honey wine an I'm no exception. Maybe I'd feel different if I could still taste sweet things but considering I pretty much choose what I drink based on mouthfeel an how quickly any beverage can get me sloshed mead just comes up short every time. At least honeybrew doesn't remind me of warm piss which is like the worst crime you can commit in my opinion. I'd still choose this over my worst option...

Best- Matze

What isn't there to like about matze? It's a smooth drink that goes down easily an can be infused with whatever the fuck you want. It's a type of saltrice wine that some westerners compare to beer but like it's not any sort of beer I've tried. Beer tastes like piss, this doesn't. My favourite is a brew infused with jasmine flower an strained until the liquid's clear. You pair that with like some choice grapes and a steaming bath an a good book an you got yourself an evening. Matze, like sujamma is cheap as all fuck an each region back home has their own version of it. It's potent enough that you don't need much to make you feel like you're on top of the world an it's cheap enough that you can supply a whole group of idiots to join you on that alit mounting adventure I mentioned earlier. Still don't recommend trying to mount an alit though. What Erra's good at is not the kind of shit I'm good at, and probably not what you're good at either.

You want to know the quickest way into my bed, buy me a round of this. 1. Worst- Black Briar Mead

I don't want this, I don't know anyone who fucking wants this! If you want this I seriously have to fucking question your taste in literally everything! Not even Sydari likes it an she's the whole reason this shit's flooded every inn in fucking Skyrim! Look, Miluth likes gold more than liquor an I like liquor more than I like breathing so... you know. I remember when she dragged me to the brewery there whilst doing an inspection for the Guild and left me on a "Tasting Tour". That was mistake number one. I've always been really um...vocal to her about my dislike of Nordic swill but I didn't think anything could be as fucking bad as what's in this shitty blue bottle right here! I tasted enough varieties to tell you that I was still sober after an hour an I was fucking livid about it. Then I was given this reserve an I was beside myself! I seriously thought I was being fed piss. So I thought I would do a bit of an experiment, yeah? I pissed in an empty bottle coz even if you're not getting sloshed this shit still goes right through you an I just placed it back into the shelf. I never intended for the guide to pull it straight from the shelf an feed it to the fucking brew master who was possibly the most miserable looking s'wit I've ever met! I'd never laughed so hard in my life! Anyway I'm not allowed back in there an if you ever feed me this shit I'll do the same to you!

[brklynbxby]

Leo stood rooted to the spot, the weight of Aida’s words crashing into him like waves against a cliff. His jaw tightened, a muscle flickering beneath his skin, and his eyes, dark and stormy, burned with a raw mix of emotions—hurt, disbelief, frustration. He wanted to cling to the anger, to let the bitterness he’d carried for years rise up and shield him from the vulnerability threatening to crack through. But as her trembling voice wrapped around him, as her hands gripped his sleeve like it was the only thing anchoring her to the moment, that anger began to fray, unraveling thread by thread, no matter how tightly he held on. His lips parted as if to speak, but no sound came. Instead, he looked at her—really looked at her. The way her eyes shimmered with unshed tears, the way color bloomed high on her cheeks, and the way her chest rose and fell with every unsteady breath. She was close now, too close, and the heat radiating from her seemed to seep into his skin, setting him alight. He could see the tremor in her fingers where they clung to him, feel the electricity crackling in the scant space between them. The air was thick, charged with something dangerous and unspoken, a magnetic tension neither dared to break. 

"Do you have any idea what that did to me?" His voice was low and jagged, as if pulled from somewhere deep within him. "What it felt like to have you tear me down every chance you got? And now you’re standing here, telling me it was all because you couldn’t handle your feelings? That’s… that’s really fucking messed up, Aida." His head shook, his expression a mix of disbelief and something sharper, something vulnerable he couldn’t quite hide. "Really. Fucking. Messed. Up." He exhaled harshly, dragging a hand through his dark, unruly hair, his fingers trembling at the edges. The same girl who had made him hate himself, question his worth, and doubt his place in the world was now standing here, saying she’d always felt the opposite. It was like the ground beneath him was shifting, and he didn’t know how to stop it. 

"Damn it, Aida..." His voice softened, rough around the edges but laced with something almost tender. He pushed off of the counter and started pacing up and down the kitchen. His eyes searched hers each time he faced her again, dark and intense, as though he was desperate to find the truth in her confession. "Why does it still feel like you’re the only one who gets under my skin? Like you’re still in my head after all these years, no matter how hard I try to forget you?" He broke off, a hollow laugh escaping him, tinged with frustration. "I fought a guy out there because I didn’t like the way he touched you, the way he talked to you. And for what? Why the hell should I care about any of that?" His voice cracked, and he ran a hand down his face as though trying to wipe away the feelings spilling over as he continued pacing. But the words kept coming, pouring out in a torrent he couldn’t control. "Why should I care about some guy who talks shit to you? Or touches you like that? Or the fact that you’re letting someone wear your ex’s clothes? Or who you patch up after a fight? Or who you say all this shit to?" He continued as though his exterior was pushing all of this out before he could really process that he did. He gave a damn about it all. And that's exactly why they were stood here right now. He swallowed hard and stopped pacing, his chest rising and falling as though the weight of everything was finally too much. He was now stood on the opposite side of the kitchen to her. The realisation hit him all at once, breaking down every wall he’d built to keep her out. She had pushed him into this version of himself, into the man he’d fought to become. Her brutal honesty, her merciless teasing—they had shaped him, forced him to find strength he hadn’t known he possessed. He hated her for it, but god, he was grateful, too. His gaze flicked to hers, and the tension between them reached a fever pitch, the air charged with the electricity of everything left unsaid. The fire in her eyes only fueled the one burning in him, and before he could think better of it, he moved.

With a growl of frustration and desire, Leo surged forward, his large, muscular arm snaking around her waist in one fluid motion. His forearm, strong and corded with sinew, pressed firmly against the small of her back, pulling her flush against him. The heat of his body enveloped hers as his free hand slid up, fingers threading into her hair at the nape of her neck, his grip firm but gentle, anchoring her to him. And then his lips crashed onto hers. The kiss was a storm, wild and consuming, a heady mix of frustration, longing, and years of unspoken emotions finally unleashed. His lips were rough yet searching, demanding yet vulnerable, tasting of everything they had been too afraid to say. 

Aida’s eyes widened in disbelief as Leo spoke, the words sinking in like a heavy weight. You’re confused? She couldn’t believe it. After everything, he still didn’t know how she felt about him. She stood there, her heart thudding in her chest, feeling a mixture of disbelief and frustration. How could he not know? How had he not seen it back then, when she was so stupid, so naïve? She’d wanted him then, too—maybe even more than she wanted to admit, but instead, she’d taken the easy way out, hiding behind cruelty and teasing. She hated who she used to be. The guilt that followed her now felt like a weight she couldn’t shake off, no matter how hard she tried.

She inhaled sharply, pushing the thought of her teenage self aside. She wasn't that person anymore. She wanted to tell him that, wanted to explain, but the words tangled in her throat.

"I—" Her voice faltered before she steadied herself, forcing her gaze to meet his. “I didn’t know how to tell you back then. I couldn’t even admit it to myself." She bit her lip, a frustrated sigh escaping her as she stepped closer, the words tumbling out, each one heavier than the last. “I thought you were cute back then, Leo. I really did. I don’t know why I acted like I didn’t. You were this adorable nerd, with your big glasses and your shy smile, and I... I just couldn’t handle it. I didn’t know how to handle you—I was too busy trying to be someone I wasn’t. Trying to fit in. And now, I’m standing here, hearing you say that you dont think i want you, and I—I don’t know what to do with that."

Her breath quickened, the reality of what she was saying hitting her all at once. The guilt of how she’d treated him back then still gnawed at her, and she could feel her chest tighten with the weight of it.

She exhaled sharply, finally speaking the words that had been buried deep within her for so long. "And yes, of course, I wanted to clean you up after that fight. But it wasn’t just that, Leo. It wasn’t just about bandages and ice packs. It was about you. It’s about you being here, with me, right now. I wanted to talk to you. I needed to talk to you. And I’m so sorry for the way I treated you, but I can’t keep pretending that it wasn’t always you I wanted to talk to. You’ve always been the one who got under my skin, even when I tried to push you away."

Her heart was racing now, the words pouring out faster than she could contain them. "I’m not that person anymore, Leo. I haven’t been for years. I want to fix this, if you’ll let me. But I need you to understand—this isn’t about the past anymore. It’s about now. And I don’t want you to walk away." Aida took a step forward, her hands trembling as she reached for his sleeve, the touch tentative, but desperate. "I need you here, Leo. I always have."

[gamerbot-22]

HI. I SAW YR REQUESTS ARE OPEN AND I DESPERATELY NEED CHUBBY READER X KNIVES.

I always thought Kni would be fascinated with a chubby human. they are soft and squishy and kind even when he’s mean to them and thats not something he associates with humans often so ywah.!

if you cant tell I love this guy.

YEAAAAA FUCK YEAH I LIKE WHERE YOUR HEAD’S AT—[checks ur bio]—QUEEN. Oh man, I love doing requests so much, y’all come to me with the fuckin’ sickest ideas. Also thank you for handing me a Nai GIF on a silver plater that’s v helpful of you ✨

Millions Knives/Nai x Sweet Chubby Reader

TW/CWs: Nai is Nai (both /pos and /neg), romance is implied but tbh this could all be read as platonic, written with TriStamp Nai in mind but feel free to slot your favorite version in here if you so choose, the words fat and chubby are used neutrally and interchangeably to describe the reader, Nai has feelings he refuses to unpack, barely proofread but I appreciate spellchecks.

A/N: I was a little stuck on how I wanted to do this but God, once I found that groove it was insane. Like… the physical softness mixing with the emotional softness of the reader? That’s some fun stuff to explore to me, so I really hope you like it!

Likes and Reblogs are always appreciated, Requests are open, and it’s all under the cut!

The dividers in this post were made by @/adornedwithlight ☆

SO let’s get into it, yeah? I’ve seen crews on the SEEDS ship in both versions of the anime and everyone there is fit as hell so like??? Honestly with his hermit lifestyle, I’d say there’s a non-zero chance of you being one of if not the first fat person he’s ever met personally.

I don’t think it changes much of his perception of you at first—humans are humans, regardless of shape—but there is something interesting about how you just... take it? When he talks shit about humanity? Like he calls humanity a parasite, a disease, and instead of shrinking or averting your gaze from him for the rest of the day you ask him if he’s hungry. Him. Hungry. What??

He’s not shy about his confusion. After a couple notable instances of this he straight up just asks why you’re so unbothered by it when every other human he has to deal with has some kind of sore spot about it. Maybe humans didn’t treat you well either, so you agree with him. He understands. Maybe you want to see what happens with a Plant in charge. He thinks you’re insane, and tells you so, but doesn’t otherwise hurt you (not while you’re still useful and… interesting.) Maybe you just think he still deserves to be listened to despite it all. Isn’t it a basic need to be listened to? That reminds him of some people he’d rather not think about. He probably ignores you for a while after that.

But you can’t even let him ignore you! You still come to him, unlike anything he’d ever seen with your soft hands and body, offering warm words and attention despite his clear (surface-level) distaste for whatever it is you have to say.

You know lonely when you see it, and you’re persistent. An unstoppable force meets an immovable object until one day, when he’s feeling especially raw he just breaks. He doesn’t shatter completely, but there’s cracks in his facade when he lets you wrap your arms around his shoulders and give him a squeeze, assuring him that he doesn’t have to return the embrace if he doesn’t want to. And he doesn’t, for the record, he just wants to… sit in it. Your body keeps heat better than his ever could—it’s the one drawback of being a Plant at times—and you’re soft, both around his neck and in his ears as you just stand there, breathing. He can feel your heartbeat and you’re not even a little frightened, even after seeing first hand the kind of terror he puts in the hearts of your fellow humans.

He can’t remember the last time someone hugged him. Probably not since her. It makes him bitter, but at the same time he dares not push you away. Not yet, at least. You’re a human, and to him you’re either insane or stupid to think he’ll spare you at the end of this, but… you’re still useful for now. He’ll keep you and your soft body within arm’s reach, letting you wrap around him so he could feel the warmth of another body. You can stay until he’s certain he can be rid of you.

Whenever that might be.

[bingobongobonko]

actually maybe im overthinking it again and no one thinks im being extremely inappropriate because all of my coworkers said they liked my cornrows yesterday and were very sweet. ok maybe im overreacting sure.

[kettlefire]

As Good as Good Gets (DP X DC Snippet)

Richard "Dick" Grayson is the golden child. In the eyes of the public, and in the eyes of the league. Dick is a sweet, caring son, a man who went from being a sidekick to being a hero. The pipeline from Robin to Nightwing had many people applauding his dedication to keeping Gotham safe.

No one knew the full story, not truly. No one but Bruce Wayne himself. And maybe a certain butler. Many don't know that Dick only became Robin to stop him from hunting down and killing the man who killed his parents.

No one really knows about the harsh fights and arguments he has had with Bruce. The times when Dick would find himself cut off from the Wayne name for a week or so. No one knows that the first person Dick warmed up to was Alfred. Having been bribed with cookies.

Things weren't always this good, trusting, happy relationship between Bruce and Dick. It had been a rough ride, a complicated one. But that was okay, because it got better.

Dick stopped being so moody and angsty. He grew up, he learned, and he changed. He became an older brother, found people that needed him. Needed him in a way that the citizens of Gotham didn't need him.

His brothers like to call him annoying. A goody two shoes who Bruce trusted more than everyone else. They couldn't fathom how someone like Dick could be so stupid and bubbly at all times.

All times, except when shit hits the fans. Despite the name calling, despite coining Dick as the stupid Wayne. They all knew better. They knew that when it mattered, Dick Grayson always pulled through. He was a force to be reckoned with when needed.

The whole Wayne family was a force to be reckoned with when called for. It didn't have to be under the guise of costumes and vigilante acts. Whether he was Officer Grayson or Nightwing, Dick was a man with his morals and values.

One night on patrol as Officer Grayson, Dick found someone who needed that force. A force willing to protect and care for the innocent. The hurt. The damaged, yet still good.

It started like any other night. A call of shots fired by an empty warehouse. There was no sighting or knowledge of any rouges being there, so Dick took the call. Told the team he'll contact them if it seems more than just a civilian incident.

The warehouse was dark, reeked of copper and oil. It didn't take long for Dick to find the trail. The liquid he found looked like the person had been dragged before walking. There was a clear struggle, even with the mess and emptiness that was the warehouse.

That wasn't Dick's biggest concern. The concern lay in just how much blood there was. Too much for any normal person to lose and still manage to stumble through the warehouse.

It wasn't just blood. It wasn't that much, but Dick could spot the strangeness in the liquid. The mixed in green that had an eerily similar color and glow as a certain pit.

Without thinking, Dick followed the trail. Barely remembering to make contact with his family. Give them an update on what he found. Words telling him to stay put for backup went in one ear and out the other.

Something in Dick's gut was telling him he couldn't wait. He needed to find the source. Whoever was currently bleeding out in this warehouse. He silenced the comm, moving further through the dimly lit building.

Then Dick found it. Or more so, he found him. It was just a boy. A boy that reminded Dick too much of the youngest Wayne. A boy sat against a wall, looking pale and weak.

Red and green coated the front of the boy's shirt, arms wrapped tightly around his middle. An attempt to stem the bleeding. A puddle had already started to form beneath the boy, and Dick moved without thinking once again.

He quickly found himself kneeling beside the boy, hands carefully reaching out. Before Dick even touched him, the boy flinched. Eyelids suddenly opened, wide and terrified blue eyes landed on Dick's.

In just that one look, Dick knew what he had to do. The haunting, terrified, and pained look in the boy's eyes told Dick everything he needed to know. The boy was in danger. Someone had hurt this kid, and it was clear it wasn't the first time.

The boy struggled weakly against Dick's touch, terrified whimpers, and barely coherent pleas spilled from the kid's lips. It had Dick's heart aching, clear as day the poor kid has been through hell and back.

It took a lot of reassurance, gentle touches, and promises of help before the kid let Dick take a look at the bleeding wound. A promise on Dick's soul had been the final thing that earned him any semblance of trust. A strange promise, but Dick was willing to make it.

That concern turned to pure anger the moment Dick managed to pull the sticky shirt away from the wound. The sight of a Y-incision cut perfectly into the skin, stitches tight on the skin, but blood still leaking heavily from the wound.

It didn't take long for Dick to realize why. Despite the perfect surgical care of the wound, a good couple of stitches had broken. Leaving gaping spots for that red and green liquid to pour out of.

The boy was deathly silent, tears streaking down his cheek as wide blue eyes stayed trained on Dick. In that moment, Dick knew he had to help. Had to get the kid to safety, patch him up, and find out what kind of monster would do this.

It didn't matter if the kid was human or not. It didn't matter if the kid had special abilities or not. No one, absolutely no one, deserved to be vivisected.

The kid was shrouded in mystery, but that mystery only seemed to grow and become clearer when Bruce had entered the scene. The boy had tensed, eyes flashing a bright glowing green.

Lazarus pit green.

It set a pit of dread in Dick's gut. His mind brings forward memories of Jason. Jason, after his revival, after his dip in that cursed pit. The same flash that his brother would get if he got too angry. Too emotional.

As much as Dick wanted to focus on finding who did this, if it had any connection to Ra's al Ghul. He couldn't. Not when the kid tried to get up, to pull away as Bruce and the others made their way closer.

Right now, Dick only cared about making sure the boy was okay. Fixing those stitches, getting him a meal, and a warm bed.

He needed to get this kid someplace where he felt safe and secure. Comfortable and protected. Dick wasn't sure why. Maybe it was the promise he had made, but he wasn't letting anyone get to the kid.

That included his family. As strange as it seemed, Dick put himself between the others and the kid. Shooting them all a glare that they had only ever seen a handful of times.

Dick lifted the poor boy up in his arms, cradling the crying child close as he led the way out of the warehouse. Ignoring the questions or confusion coming from Bruce and the others. As Dick walked, feeling the trembling boy clinging to him, he made a rather obvious realization.

Maybe the eldest son really was more like Bruce than he expected. Just a few short moments the the boy, a boy that Dick didn't know his name, and he was ready to pull out adoption papers. To give the boy a safety he so desperately needs.

Give him the chance that Bruce had given him all those years ago.

[atoriv-art]

older designs for my specialest guy

[sluckythewizard]

BUT IM NOT A WRITER. something strange possessed me to write my first proper fanfic in maybe a decade. be niceys to me but also grill me so i can get stronger. this one is a stupidly self indulgent bit between Soda and Emizel, a day or so after emizel was sired. CW for gore descriptions, but thats about it i think. image below is a snippet of the start. the rest of the whole dang thing will be under the cut. ive never posted fanfic ever in my life. read my tags for secret behind da scenes commentary

"Oh shit… I think hes dead…" It was another night, another patrol, another fight, and another win, for Emizel and Soda.

Under moonlight, under street light, under interwoven wires above, the two stood here in a quiet and damp alleyway. The air was drenched with the smell of a previous rain, and the puddles of said storm remain huddled in corners and pot holes.

One splashed as soda found himself stepping forwards into one. The residual adrenaline of the fight had left his body shaking, his heart still pounding, his wounds still throbbing. They had still won; or more-so, Emizel had won. A particularly nasty blow to the side had Soda reduced to the side lines for most of the fight, left to watch as his newly vampiric comrade had absolutely eviscerated the competition.

Emizel had only been turned a day ago, but it was impossible not to notice how it had changed him. He already acted so goddamn confident, so on top of the world, and this newfound power, newfound speed and strength, only built upon his insane ego.

The Fangs that they encountered here on this night stood no fucking chance. Emizel was too quick, too strong, and he easily chased off the rivals. It was only now, as the final unfortunate opponent had turned to flee, a clean clock in the jaw sent the human tumbling to the ground with a dull thump, and it did not move afterward.

Soda shifts his shoe out of the puddle, the cold seeping into his sock being one of the few things keeping his mind in his body in the moment. Is the guy breathing?

A low laugh bleeds from Emizel as he stretches his arms, licking his sharpened teeth as he stares off in the direction the remaining Fangs went. Soda knew that look on his face, the look of a tiger pondering on its next kill, he knew well that Emizel wanted to chase them.

But the guy on the ground.. It was one punch to the face, and the wicked crack sound that came from it had planted a seeding dread within Sodas chest.

As he steps forward, around the puddle, the resulting sound made Emizels attention click back over to Soda, the snap of his gaze making Soda flinch.

The two lock eyes, and Soda weakly gestures to the limp body on the floor. "The uh.. I think.. Is that guy dead?" He finally asks, having a hard time keeping contact with Emizels intensely red eyes.

Emizel turns his attention to said body, tilting his head as he goes to kick at the thing, turning it over. "Man no way hes dead, I punched him once." He mutters.

"Well, yeah, but his head almost twisted all the way around when you did.." Soda steps up to stand beside Emizel, the two boys standing with their hands in their pockets, down at this unfortunate, limp body.

"Should we hide it?" Soda asks, glancing back over at Emizel, who had.. An odd look on his face. He was clearly pondering something, but Soda could only guess whatever was going on in that brilliant head of his. He knew and trusted that Emizel was smart. If anyone could figure out what to do about this, it would be him.

But the lack of an answer had anxiety chewing at the back of Sodas rib cage, and after a second, he speaks up again, compelled to fill what he perceived as a tense silence. "Like.. I dunno, I've never uh... killed a guy..." He shrugs, prompting Emizel to let out a big sigh.

"He's not dead man, just out fuckin cold." Emizel kneels down next to the body, putting an ear up to its chest, and pondering on that for a moment. An uncertainty twists his expression, as he decides to instead place a hand on the victims throat, checking for a pulse. A moment passes, and seemingly finding nothing, he pulls back.

"Uh... Okay, so he might be dead."

Something about the confirmation from Emizel made a shiver run up Sodas spine. That, or maybe it was just the breeze agitating the cold water in his shoe.

"Huh… Damn.." Was all that Soda could really get to leave his mouth. Which was hardly a splash compared to the torrent that was slowly churning in his head. They just killed a guy. Or, Emizel just killed a guy. And it was so easy. They had to hide the body now, right? That was the usual progression here? Getting caught for murder was way more extreme than getting caught for breaking mailboxes with soda cans. It was so, so disturbingly easy. It really was just one punch. It's not like the Fangs are weak by any means, so just one punch? And this guy is dead? Forever?

Or, perhaps by human means, their rivals were fairly tough. But Emizel was on a whole other level. No mortal could stand up to him now...

"Hey, are you okay?"

The question had pulled Soda back from his head, his gaze flicking back over to Emizel, who was looking up at him with those eerie, piercing red eyes. Soda felt another shiver.

"Uh, ieah man, I'm all good." Soda nods, swallowing down whatever anxiety was bubbling up in his throat.

But Emizel didn't seem satisfied by his answer, standing back up and staring down his human comrade. Soda couldn't meet his eyes, his gaze instead traveling downward, and pausing on Emizels red, cut-up shirt. There was something off about the color, the way it seemed darker in some spots, brighter in others.. Wait, wasn't Emizel wearing a white shirt before all this?

The vampire boy seems to pick up on Sodas expression, following his eyes down to his shirt. "Oh, yeah! While you were on the floor, the knife guy got me a little" He says, a stupidly simple smile on his face. Soda was about to let out a laugh at how unbothered his friend seemed by it, but it gets caught in his throat when Emizel goes to pull his shirt up.

The sound of the bloodied fabric peeling away from skin made Sodas own skin crawl, but that wasn't nearly as bad as the sight of the intense gash running from his collar bone, down to his stomach.

"Oh, fuck dude!" Soda gasps, but Emizel laughs it off. Even despite knowing Emizel well, Soda was still surprised by just how much Emizel could shrug off. "Shit, doesn't that hurt, dude?"

"Oh yeah this fucking hurts!" he says with a laugh, his smile big and toothy and proud as he presents this egregious wound. Swollen and angry, pulsing with a slow heartbeat, and still oozing with thick, dark blood.

The sight of the split flesh, and the glints of bone beneath the dark, dark red all tugged at Sodas gag reflex, and yet he couldn't pull his eyes away. So Emizel's just been walking and talking so normally this whole time with his chest just cleaved wide open? Soda felt just as impressed as he felt horrified.

It wasn't until Emizel reaches down to poke at the abhorrent wound that Soda snaps out of it. Watching his friend press his fingers into the bloodied flesh, and slowly pulling it apart, allowing more ichor to seep from the gash, it was too much to watch at this point.

Soda reaches up to put a hand on Emizels wrist, the vampire boy stopping, and looking up at his friend.

Soda found himself freezing again when he locks eyes with Emizel. He was going to say something now, right? "U-uhm.." Is all he really chokes out, giving Emizels wrist a gentle tug. "D-do you. Uh. I suppose a hospital Isn't a place you can go anymore..?"

Emizel just smirks at that, letting Soda pull his hand away from the wound. "Oh, yeah no, but it's fine. I mean, I don't think it's gonna kill me" He shrugs. It was so, so impressive just how unphased Emizel was by all this. Fuck he's actually so cool.

"Well yeah man but it's like, still a bleeding hole. Like you're soaked in blood dude, I'm pretty sure that even a vampire needs that stuff on like, the inside." Soda rubs the back of his head, still unnerved by the sight of it all. "Vampires have like, super healing, don't they?"

"Oh yeah like, regeneration powers. I know I heal faster sometimes but I dunno how to just, activate it on command.." Emizel hums, his eyes narrowing down at his own injury, as if trying to will it into mending. Soda looks away, unable to watch that vile gash ooze any longer.

"I dunno man, how do they do it in like, video games?" Soda tosses the question out, trying to click together some sort of solution in his own head.

"Uhhh.. Huh, video games.." Emizel repeats to himself, chewing on the thought while idly poking at the laceration; until an idea audibly flickers to life in his head. "Oh, I just gotta refill my blood meter. Or whatever."

"Oooh yeah, blood meter!" Soda perks up, "Of course, see this is why you're the brains, man" Soda smiles, glancing back over to his cool friend, but immediately needing to look away again when the sight of that egregious gash tugs bile back into his throat.

While Soda averts his eyes, Emizels eyes wander back over to the body, and that classic 'Emizel has a bad idea' smile creeps across his face.

"Well, if this guys dead, I'm sure he's not gonna need all that blood.." He grins, kneeling down next to the body again.

The word 'wait' had hardly gotten the chance to crawl from Sodas mouth, before Emizel lifts up the arm of the unfortunate body, pulling the sleeve back, and immediately sinking his teeth into the exposed wrist.

The sound and the sight of blood gushing around Emizels teeth made Soda cringe, his hand impulsively coming up to aide his own wrist. An empathetic phantom pain made his wrist ache, his imagination simulating the feeling of shark teeth cutting into skin, sinking deep into the flesh, and clacking against bone. That was a lot of blood, that was streaming down the arm of this fodder.

A low growl bleeds from Emizel as he adjusts his teeth, cutting into more flesh, opening the wound further, and allowing a pulsing torrent of red to stream down his chin, onto his coat. It was an annoying thing, to clean blood out of clothing. Most of the Demons deemed it easier to just let the stains remain. But the night that Emizels throat was torn open, and liters upon liters were granted freedom from his human form, the unbelievable mess had practically changed half the color of Emizels iconic coat.

That was the first time Soda had ever seen that much blood from one person. And well. This would probably be the second.

The sight was unnerving, but it was impossible to look away. The alley was quiet, save for the distant bustle of a distant city, which made the noisy squish and squelch of teeth gnawing on flesh all the more apparent and nauseating.

Emizel had become a monster for sure, and watching it feed on something was… thrilling, in a way. It reminded Soda of feeding a pet spider, or lizard. A mouse for a snake.

It's a heavy thing to witness, the end of a human life. The fear of death is a primal thing, and Soda was no different from any other living thing. He figured everyone else feared death just as much as he does. Well, maybe except for Emizel, of course.

It made sense. Emizel was such a cocky and noisy kind of guy, but hes always had the power to back it up. Even when he lost, or seemed at his lowest, Soda still saw this sort of fire in him, one that Soda admired.

Of course Emizel would be the one to become something like a vampire. Something that Soda had always figured was just a fantasy creature thing. He wondered; if vampires were real, what else was real? Werewolves? Zombies? Unicorns? Are there real demons? Like from hell? Is hell real? Is he going to hell?

The sudden ttteeeeaaaaarrrr of flesh rips soda from his wandering thoughts. Emizel was tugging his head away from the arm of his kill, his teeth clamped down into the chewed meat, and pulling it apart. Soda had seldom seen so much of the inside of a human arm, and the sight of spilling threads and squirming veins was hardly something he ever wanted to stomach again.

"Oh fuck, dude, hey-" Soda steps forward, raising a hand, but the way Emizel snaps his head back over to him, twisting to an unnatural degree, Soda cant help jolting back.

Reddened teeth glint menacingly in the low light, a threatening growl thundering from its clenched, dripping jaws. Emizels eyes were focused, yet wild, glowing with whatever light they could reflect.

Sodas eyes were wide, and his body was frozen in the thick, electric tension within the air. It was like staring down an angry dog.. Suddenly a light bulb in his head flickers to life. It was kind of like an angry dog, right? One hunched over a meal it didn't want to give up. Memories of old encounters and unfortunate dog bites resurface in Sodas head, and with that experience, and with those lessons learned, he gathers the courage to react.

He shuts his eyes, keeping them closed for a few seconds, as he slowly pulls back his arm, and slowly steps back. It was an eye contact thing, wasn't it? Eye contact makes dogs angry, right? That was how you dealt with an angry dog? As he pulls back, and takes in a breath for composure, he finally dares to peek at the angry vampire before him again.

Its snarling had died down, but its eyes were still trained intently on Soda. After a tense, and agonizingly, slow pause... It blinks back, lowering its head back down to its meal, but keeping its anxious stare on this potential threat.

A relieved sigh falls from soda as the tension finally melts. He didnt realize he was holding in so much of his breath. "O-okay, man.. It's yours, you uh.. Earned it.." Soda mutters, stepping back further, until he was standing in a sufficiently dry enough space to sit down in. Now that he wasn't standing, he was finally taking into mind just how much his hands were shaking.

It's odd. Soda couldn't really describe this feeling thrumming in his chest as something like fear.. Nausea? For sure. Disturbed and rattled? Oh absolutely. This was certainly a sight he would have a hard time scrubbing from his eyelids when he sleeps tonight. But he wasn't scared. The memory of the night that Emizel was sired still coated the inside of his mind like an unwashable film. Even in that moment, when the unnatural teeth from the unnatural maw of an unnatural thing hovered over his throat, he couldn't say with confidence that he was scared.

Emizel really is his best friend in the world. And he knows with his whole heart that Emizel feels the same. He knew and trusted that his best friend would never hurt him. Not too badly at least. He loves Emizel, and would give anything to support him.

Like a mouse to a snake.

This really is an incredible power that his comrade had come across, and Soda especially felt a sort of pride in his friend. He felt it was worth it to help him feed it.

The bile in his throat had made its point, and Soda agreed, that watching someone die, and get torn apart and drained might be too much for him. Despite how much he hated the Fangs, the end of any human life seemed like such a jarring thing. To have such an intense fear finally get confronted. Would he go to hell?

Maybe he couldn't just feed people to his friend. So an alternative could be donated blood, right? Soda wouldn't mind giving up something like blood. His body makes it for free, after all. Maybe some other Demons would agree to give up some blood too. But they shouldn't have to take on such a burden. Soda wouldn't mind being the only one. The only one. The only one.

His hand comes up to rub at his neck, as his imagination conjures up what it might feel like to have teeth sink into his flesh. He's been stabbed before, is that sort of what it would feel like? Would he have to get stitches? He didn't really want to get stitches, so maybe there could be a more effective way to get the blood out of him. And there was so much vital stuff in his neck too. There's' a vein that's safe to cut into somewhere, right? He would have to look that up later.

A STARTLING RINGING;

Splits the moment,

Prompting both Soda and Emizel to jolt in shock,

As the phone in Emizels pocket rings away.

Acting as if nothing abnormal had taken place, Emizel pulls out his phone, and answers it.

"Heyy, Johnny! Yeah we chased em off, I don't think those bastards will be infesting this street again anytime soon. Yeah, ieah we'll be heading back soon. Oh fuck yeah dude, save us some!"

Emizel covers the speaker of his Nokia, turning back to Soda with a big smile on his violently bloodied face. "They got some pizza waiting for us back home, dude!" he whispers out to him.

Soda does his best to crack a smile, and to suppress the look of unease that probably stained his face, as he stares at the literal murder scene that's been splattered about in front of him.

"Oh, yeah, hell yeah man.." He swallows down the bile again. "What kind of uh.. Soda did they get?"

Emizel ponders that, before turning back to the phone to ask Sodas question.

"Sprite and a big pack of that one strawberry mountain dew" Emizel tosses the answer back over to Soda, who gives a nod, and thumbs up.

Mountain dew is so neat, Soda really liked all the wacky flavors those guys come up with. The thought of going home and opening a can of soda was certainly a comfort. After witnessing all this blood and gore and viscera, Soda absolutely needed to get back home and get a nice cold glass of something bright red .

As Sodas mind wanders off to soda, Emizel wraps up the conversation on the phone, before hanging up, and standing up.

The movement had pulled Sodas mind back into the moment, enough for him to timidly voice a concern he's had since the start of this debacle.

"Uh, hey, so.. The body, should we… Uh.." He gestures vaguely to it, and Emizel grants it a nonchalant glance.

"Eh, I can toss it into a dumpster or something, I dunno. I'm sure its fine. I'll handle it."

The vampire boy goes to pick up the corpse, the wound in its mangled arm no longer even dripping with blood, the flesh pale from the absolute absence of red in its veins.

"Go ahead and meet me by that one mailbox, the one with the bullet hole in it." Emizel casually instructs, tossing the drained body over his shoulder. "I'll catch up."

"Uh, yeah, okay.." Soda musters up a nod, and the strength to rise back up to his feet, wincing as that bruise on his side makes itself loudly known again. He still felt anxious, but even despite it all, he knew he could trust Emizel to take care of things. He always does. "Just stay safe man, I'll see you there." Soda assures with a smile, and Emizel matches it, tossing him a wink. And then suddenly- -He's gone! If Soda had blinked he would've missed it, but he was fortunate enough to just barely catch the glimpse of Emizel darting off at an inhuman speed, probably looking for a place to dump the body. Right, he would take care of it. Emizel always makes sure his crew is taken care of. Well... Guess all that's left for Soda is for him to walk back to that meeting spot. He looks around the alley for a moment, taking in the sight of that enormous pool of blood in the middle of the concrete. Or whatever the floor of this alley is made from. He ponders on the present moment a little longer than he meant to, the shock of it all leaving him aimless for just a few, soothing moments of just, decompression. The night is quiet, vast, and cold, but the stresses of just the past 5 hours had left his body radiating with fiery aches and pains, so the chill of the occasional clawing breeze was welcomed. Except for when said breeze agitated the cold water still soaked into his sock. He should step in another puddle on his way back to even it out. The smell of rain still rested heavy in the air, heralding another storm on the horizon. There was that, and then, well, there was also the blood. The stench of it felt far too intense to just ignore it, the metallic miasma making itself maliciously unmistakable. Maybe the impending storm will wash this mess away... He looked forward to putting this unfortunate night behind him. With one last rattled, but deep breath, he stuffs his hands in his pockets, and turns away, strolling back over to the mailbox that Emizel had described.

He couldn't wait to get home and drink some soda with his friends.

[melancholic-pigeon]

Okay this is the *actual* last comment, for real, but I just found out Spider is now smearing me as a convert and accusing me of being involved with drama I was not involved with because he mistakenly attributed my apologies for his public temper tantrum as being about something unrelated.

THIS IS A FALSE ACCUSATION and I do not appreciate having yet another bit of fake malicious intent falsely ascribed to my actions and* attributing a completely unrelated attack to me.

Also, it's very sad and disappointing whenever a Jew gets mad at a convert because something else is going on in the Jew's life and the convert happens to be in the splash zone and the Jew falls over backwards to smear the convert and invalidate her faith.

Just....the childish aggression is making me so, so sad and disappointed, from someone I used to think very highly of, who is now lying about me and publicly smearing me with false accusations based on a conflict he started because he misinterpreted something I said and I went out of my way to give him the benefit of the doubt when trying to clear up the mistake HE MADE that led him to decide bullying and attacking me for three fucking days was appropriate and okay and that I'm the bad guy for saying it's wildly unprofessional to behave like this in public to a former customer face.

Sorry, but facts, reality, linear time and the truth of what I actually said and did are on my side here, and I will not stand for being smeared and attacked and shat all over because I had the gall to try to kindly resolve his uncalled for, unjustified temper tantrum.

I am also not sorry that I left a side note in the tags that it was also unacceptable for HIM to drag his daughter into a stupid internet slapfight based on his own reading comprehension failure. Because it was and is unacceptable, and she needs to hear that message from someone.

End of story. Keep digging that hole as long as you like, Spider. It's not helping your case and is continuing to make you look progressively worse and more unreasonable, and the only person you have to blame is yourself.

*revised for clarity

[kawaii-killshot]

Having attachment issues and being self aware literally sucks ass. Do I know it's unreasonable and unhealthy and kind of stupid to be this conscious of another person to the point where I'm now feeling more resentment than affection for them? Yes. Do I wish I could stop? Absolutely yes, so now I have to play that stupid waiting game where I avoid that person and just stew in agony until things fade away naturally. I fucking hate when this happens

[arcticmist0324]

One thing that is difficult about writing historical fiction is when you’ve set your story up in the same time frame as major historical events, which you KNOW would be on your characters’ radar yet they don’t impact the plot. What is too much? What is too little?

[therewithinthestars]

i'm watching vnc and im so goddamn confused help