#i don’t even mean this in a ship way i just mean they r the ones graduating

[foxgloveinspace]

People jumping ship cause of the new masks is very ahhhh. Telling. Tbh.

[starstruckodysseys]

one of these days i WILL write the wenliv graduation ft awesome action heroes fic ive been thinking abt for weeks. mark my words

[seventh-district]

laying here in bed at 5pm on the 4th of July listening to the storm outside and seriously debating bulk-buying 90 coffee cakes. as one does

[caotictimmy]

if you're doing mouthwashing can i have daisuke x reader hcs plz... just pretend the tulpar never crashed i want him to be happy hjdkjkdsjg

OMG ANON…you get me. Daisuke has me in a CHOKEHOLD. Ok so here are how the headcanons are gonna go. Pre dating/confession. Dating and NSFW. I had another anon ask me to do NSFW head canons with daisuke. So why not kill two birds with one stone. The regular head canon r gonna be Gn. But the NSFW are gonna have some AFAB stuff. Still can kinda be read as Gn.

Crushing - Confession

- I believe Daisuke crushing on you would be a very, you fell first, but he fell harder kinda thing.

- I think that because Daisuke can be well.. a bit dense (still love him though). That he’s not really gonna pick up on any hints or flirting. So you kinda of have to wait till he realizes he likes you.

- When he does realize he likes you is probably when you were sticking up for him against Swansea(I love you Swansea but you still were mean to Daisuke🙁).

- It’s gonna be easy to tell when he likes you. This man is gonna be so obvious😭🙏

- We all know he’s eager to please right? He’s doing this with you 2 times more. Always asking if you needed anything, he’d be right on it.

-Little things to. I’m talking some laying his shirt over a puddle for you to step on. I feel like he tries to woe you with these gestures.(and it works)

- Daisuke loves listening to your voice. No matter how your voice sounds. He’ll go out of his ways to find you to ramble on about something. He thinks you look and sound cute rambling. o(^w^)o

- Also I think he just likes looking at you. There have been MANY times where Swansea has smacked Daisuke in the back of the head, cause he got sidetrack staring at you with this very lovesick grin. Staring like you personally hung the stars for him.

- Daisuke would be a bit too nervous to think of confessing first. So Swansea would definitely be pushing him to confess. He’s tired of seeing you two ogling at each other and doing nothing about it😒.

- Our sly little man some how convinced Curly to make a cake for him to give you. (I swear on my life curly is a die hard romantic but I’m saving that for when I do headcanons on him later)

- I feel like Daisuke would sneak in your room. Waiting for you to enter. When you do he lifts up the cake in his hands, “ Imadeyouthiscakewillyoudateme” He rambled out. Being scared you would say no.

- But when you say yes. I’m not kidding he shouted “WHOO HOO!!!”. It was very funny. Daisuke would quickly put the cake down and rush to hug you,

Dating

- I feel like the affection he likes to receive is words of affection and physical contact. And for what he usually gives. Acts of service and physical affection. Let me explain

-(Daisuke receiving) It’s a bit obvious that Daisuke probably hasn’t gotten a lot of praise in his life. So I believe that he absolutely melts when you give him these encouraging words. It can range from a lot. From a small, “good job” to a “I love you so much, no matter what.”. It makes him so happy like you don’t even understand.

-(Daisuke receiving) Idk it’s just a an itch in my brain telling me. I think he likes all kinds of physical affection. From holding his pinky, to wrapping you arms and legs around him cuddling. If it insures some sort of touching he’s down. I also think he like resting his head on either your thighs, or chest. Resting his eyes. PLEASE scratch his head or tangle your fingers through his hair. He loves it so much. Like it calms him down so much.

-(Daisuke giving) You can’t tell me this man isn’t at least a bit clingy. Not in a “if you talk to someone else I’ll kill them” type of way but a “ you make me feel safe and secure” kind of way. Does that make sense? Anyways, he loves flopping onto you when he sees you laying down. Like I’m talking full rag doll flop. I fully believe he brought a stuff animal on the ship. So he fully treats you like a stuff animal. Quick random switch. I don’t think he likes being the small spoon. Only because I feel like he needs to sleep holding something. I don’t think he would mind being big spoon. But overall he prefers you two facing each other.

-(Daisuke giving) We all know he has a knack for trying to be as helpful as he can. We can see that when he tried to fix the vent! To trying to crawl up it to save Anya… guys I can’t do this anymore. ANYWAYS. This man does not want you to lift a FINGER. He is so head over heels inlove with you. He’ll do anything for you. He’ll ask him to bring you a star and he’d ask which one. LIKE HE LOVES YOU SM AND JUST WANTS TO SEE YOU HAPPY.

- He loves kissing. Receiving and giving. From a simple peck, to kissing your face all over. He just loves it so much. He finds it so romantic. Listen hear me out. Non sexual neck kissing. He could be waking up before you(highly unlikely). Softly kissing your neck to wake you up. Just soft and sweet.

- Late night talks are a must with him. It could be about anything really. From what plot twist you guys thought would happen on the shitty soap opera you guys were watching. What ifs, what your guys future would look like, what you guys would be if you were animals. The topics you guys talk about are far and wide. But he enjoys the comfort of being by you.

- You can’t tell me this man isn’t a big back. Daisuke definitely brought a bunch of snacks with him. So he will happily share with you. He is a very giving person. But also expect to get your food stolen sometimes.. make sure you get extra food in your plate to give him the rest. He would appreciate it a lot!!!!!:3

- He also really loves spending anytime he can with you. Especially if it involves games. Let me tell you. YOU DO NOT WANNA PLAY DRESS TO IMPRESS WITH THIS MAN. He would cook you so hard in the game it’s not even funny. He’s literally in the top 10 players in dress to impress.

NSFW - DO NOT READ IF YOUR A MINOR OR UNCOMFORTABLE WITH NSFW (AFAB)

- Praise kink. YOU GUYS CANT TELL ME I’M WRONG. You guys could water board me. Scream at me that I’m wrong. Every time you praise him when y’all are getting freaky. Busting. Like it gets him going SO HARD (pun intended) Like omg… Especially if you praise his efforts/ how good he’s doing. Pray that you’ll be able to walk after.

- This man is LOUD…… grunting, whimpering, moaning, panting. Any noise you can think of hes made it. Like he doesn’t even think of suppressing his noises. He also doesn’t want you to either! He loves hearing you. He thinks the louder you are = the better he’s doing. So please don’t suppress your noises he’ll get so sad:(. But back to the topic. This man needs something to muffle him. Wether that be kissing you, or lightly nibbling your neck. When he starts to get to loud you need to find a way to shut him up.

-Speaking of loud Swansea has definitely caught you guys once’s. Y’all were a bit to loud and he was wonder what was going on and… Let’s just say he wasn’t able to look at you guys for a bit. But after he gave Daisuke a fist bump. Man to man🗣️🗣️🗣️

- Daisuke is willing to try almost everything. I full heartedly believe this man is a virgin. The furthest he’s ever gone is making out. So he’s eager to learn! He was a bit nervous your guys first time. But after a bit that nervousness dissolved into eagerness! I don’t think he’d be into hurting you badly. And I don’t think he likes pain that much either. But I think he would like his hair being pulled. Or maybe you lightly scratching his back.

- I think he would be open to having sex not just in your rooms. Either in random room barely used. Or a couple of times on the couch when everyone was in their sleeping quarters. Thankfully you guys weren’t caught!!! But Curly was wondering what that clear sticky substances was on the couch…

-(AFAB) Munch no question asked. LISTEN WHEN I SAW HE WANTED AN EXTRA PACK OF SWEETENER I IMMEDIATELY THOUGHT BIG BACK MUNCH BEHAVIOR. Also because this man loves to please. DO YALL SEE ME VISION. This man who’ll slurp it up like no tomorrow. His favorite made is your pleasure is his pleasure. But omg like he gets so into eating you out it’s not even funny… You have to pry his face away from your core. And he looks so hot. His hair a mess. His eyes dazed but still has that love in them. And your juice all over his face like…

- He doesn’t have a favorite position. He likes way too many. And when you asked him what position he liked the most, he only responded with, “how can I pick a favorite when there all so good, and what about the ones we haven’t tried yet!” Safe to say you guys went to go try some more positions 😜

- I know I’ve been doing really freaky headcanons but I think Daisuke loves soft sex and morning sexy to. Maybe the morning after a bad day HES still feeling bad. You both are still groggy but you have time before you have to get up. Hell sink himself into. Before thrusting as his arms are wrapped around your waist. His hot breath on your neck, as he trailed kisses all along it. Just because he can be a freak doesn’t mean he can’t be really soft either.

- Daisuke loves cock warming. Try. Try to prove me wrong. He loves cuddling. He loves being as close to you as possible. What’s better than combining the two! But after a bit he does get a bit impatient and starts to subtly thrust. He really is trying to not to be you feel to good!

Authors note: SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG. I STARTED THIS WHEN I GOT HOME AND FELL ASLEEP MID WAY THROUGH WRITING THIS. Again sorry for request being slow I’m trying my best😭🙏

[fettuccin-e]

Just This Once

Kinktober Day 18: Squirting + Dacryphilia

Tags: Din Djarin x Reader, afab!fem!reader, unprotected piv (pls wrap it before you tap it irl), fingering (r!recieving), squirting, light dacryphilia, Din being feral but also emotionally stunted (w/c: 1.7K)

A/N: Guess who fell behind on Kinktober again, womp womp. I will not give up though!! I am determined to finish, so please enjoy this Din fic that I may or may not have gotten too invested in while writing it and stay tuned for some more filth coming (and cumming hahaha) soon!! (for Kinktober I have been using this list from flightlessangelwings!)

There’s something about the coldness of space, the loneliness of it, that makes you so desperate.

When the Crest is quiet, the baby asleep, all you can feel is the vastness of the universe around you, your body cold and needy for touch. And Maker, the Mandalorian notices immediately, the way you cross and uncross your legs in the seat behind him, curling your fingers into your thighs as the stars fly past the ship. You don’t mean to be obvious, but Din always notices.

He knows how to treat you when you get like this, all needy and desperate for his touch, even when you don’t want to admit it. Din is willing to admit that you are far more than just a friend to him, but you both narrowly avoid the strength of the feelings between you both, the bond that drags you together. But still, Din knows exactly what you need, and he has absolutely no problem giving it to you.

He has you splayed across his lap, your back pressed against his chestplate, your head lolling back onto his shoulder. He’d lost his gloves the moment you’d peeled off your pants, his hands the only skin he’ll allow himself to touch you with. It’s a wonderful loophole for you, but an exercise in torture for him. He wants to feel your back pressed against his bare chest, trace his lips down your neck. Wants to feel your heartbeat against his, quick and warm and alive. 

This is the Way, he reminds himself, despite knowing, deep down, that he’s already broken something just by touching you without his gloves. But stars, how can he resist when your pretty, desperate little cunt pulses beneath his fingertips, begging for more, more, more.

He ghosts his fingers up the slick seam of your pussy, and has to hold back his own groan at the way you whine, pressing back against him as your hips twitch uncontrollably.

“Stars, you’re wet,” he grunts, pressing a thick finger into your entrance, already gaping with your need for something, anything to clutch onto. “Needed me this bad, cyar’ika?”

“‘M so- so empty, Din, fuck, it’s like,” you cut yourself off with a gasp as he starts fucking you with that one thick finger, feeling it drag across your walls. “It’s like I can’t fucking breathe without you touching me, Maker, I need it all the time, Din.” 

And it’s true. When you’d first started traveling with Din and the baby, you’d barely even noticed the loneliness. You’d been lonely your whole life, eager to escape your desolate little planet and see the stars.

But then Din had done this for the first time, when tensions had run too high, when things had gone just a little too far.

“Just this once,” he’d muttered, “Can I touch you?” he’d asked, and you’d said yes without a thought.

He’d peeled off his glove, touching your face gently, so gently with those calloused fingers. He’d laid you out on his small mattress, pressing the front of his helmet to your forehead as he let his hand roam the expanse of your body, squeezing your skin over your clothes before brushing them over your clit through your pants. When you’d jerked up and moaned, he could only let out a shaky exhale through his visor as he rubbed tight circles into it, enraptured by the way you whimpered and squirmed beneath him.

“Just once,” he kept muttering, even as he worked one, two orgasms out of your body, “just once.”

Except it happened again. And again. And again.

And now you can barely sleep without wanting, needing Din to touch you. He hasn’t fucked you; there’s an unspoken rule that he’s broken enough of the Creed for you, telling you his name, touching you like he does. You don’t question it, not when you’re the one getting fucked on his fingers until you’re in tears, ravenous for his hands on your body.

It’s like it gets worse as time goes on, your need for him. Even now, pressed against his chest as his thick thighs spread you wide for his hands, it’s like the first time. You writhe against him as he works another finger into your hot cunt, your slick covering his hand. You hump forward into them without meaning to, and you turn your head to tuck it into his cowl as he works you over.

Din fucks his fingers furiously into you, using his other arm to brace across your hips, keeping you pinned to him. He’s practically growling as he pumps his hand between your legs, crooking his fingers up to press against the spot that makes you cry so beautiful for him. He keeps his fingers pressed deep for a moment, just grinding the tips of them into that spot relentlessly and relishing in the way you cry his name so prettily.

“Din, please- oh fuck! Stars, it’s too much, it’s too much oh my- ah-” you wine, feeling tears start to build in your eyes as you edge dangerously close to that peak you need so bad.

“C’mon, mesh’la, let go for me, squeeze my fingers with this little cunt,” he growls, and fuck, you can’t even breathe as you let him work you over, making you cum so hard that you can’t do anything but gasp for air.

And Din can’t fucking take it anymore.

“Fuck, I-” you hear him say, and you turn your head to look at him, even as aftershocks wrack your body, even as his fingers stay buried inside.

“What, Din?” you whisper, and Din nearly curses at the sight of you. Your lashes are wet with tears, stars, why do you have to look at him like that? It wears at his carefully honed control, and fuck, he can practically feel it snap at the sight of you, as the feeling of you.

“Can I fuck you?” he rasps, and you hear him suck in a breath, “please let me fuck you.” You can't hold back the keening whine that leaves your mouth, and Din shivers behind you at the sound of it.

“Please,” you breathe, and Din pulls his fingers out of you without missing a beat, reaching behind you, between your bodies to pull his cock out of his pants haphazardly. You feel the hardness of it press against your lower back, and resist the urge to look. You don’t want to cross any more lines than he’s given you.

“Just this once,” he mutters, pulling your hips back over him, notching the thick head of his cock to your entrance. “Just need to feel you, once, fuck, just once,” and he pulls you down, down, letting his cock stretch you so wide, so perfect.

Months in space, just weeks of having Din touch you, stars, it’s nothing compared to this. You eyes roll to the back of your head as he settles deep inside, so fucking deep that it makes your toes curl.

“Dank farrik, that’s fucking tight-” he grunts, the hot, wet heat of your cunt pulsing around him almost making him fill you up right then and there. He bites his tongue, praying to the Maker that the pain stops him from ending this far too fucking soon.

He uses his hard, strong grip on your hips to roll you into him, grinding you down hard onto his cock. You can only take it as he punches his hips up in aborted, desperate little thrusts that grind into your sweet spot.

“Fuck, Din, it’s so big, I can’t-” you whine, but Din only growls beneath his visor, fucking up into you harder, and your head falls back onto his shoulder plate at the feeling of it. It’s so perfect, it’s everything you’ve needed, stars, how will you survive without him filling you up like this?

“Give me another one, cyare,” he mutters, and he uses one of his hands to bring his fingers to your clit, just like he did that first night. Except this time, his cock is inside you, spreading you so wide and pressing up into your g-spot with every fucking thrust in. You gasp for air, little whines punching out of your throat every time Din shoves in all the way. 

He’s a violent man, always has been, and fucking you is no exception. He fucks you like he hunts: fast, rough, fucking monstrous. Tears finally start to pour down your cheeks, and you hiccup through your moans.

“Look at you,” he rasps, “sobbing on my cock like the needy whore you are.” He doesn’t know what’s happened to him, he’s never talked like this, let alone to you. But stars, the way you moan for him has his head spinning, has words pouring out of his mouth like they’ve been trapped there all this time. “Mesh’la, squeezing me so perfect, never want to leave this perfect cunt.”

“Din, fuck, Din, I’m gonna- stars, I’m gonna-” you gasp, your hands scrabbling at the one hand he has rubbing at your swollen clit.

“C’mon, c’mon, let me feel it, need to fucking feel it-” he mutters, and oh-

You’re pretty sure you scream as you cum, but it’s hard to hear it over the ringing in your ears as you thrash in Din’s lap. You can feel him still inside you, his horrible fingers still rubbing dexterous circles into your clit as he floods your cunt with his cum. Your orgasm feels fucking endless, your thighs trying to close but still held wide by Din’s between them. 

When you finally start to hear again, the blurriness fading from your vision, you can hear Din behind you, muttering, “fuck, so beautiful, didn’t- didn’t know you could do that.”

“Do- do what?” you slur, still groggy, but as you look in front of yourself, you can see the mess you’ve made. You’d fucking squirted, your wetness drenching his thighs and the floor of the hull. The sight makes your head spin, and you hide your face in his cowl as he wraps his arms around you, hugging you close to him. The coolness of his armor is soothing to your overly-heated body.

“So good, you did so good for me, cyar’ika,” he mumbles beneath the visor. “So pretty, can’t believe- you looked so beautiful.”

You let yourself relax into his hold, and he doesn’t let you go. “Didn’t know I could do that either,” you mumble, sleep already weighing down your eyelids, exhaustion flooding your body. “We’ll have to try again later,” you mumble. “Don’t think once is enough.”

“It will never be enough,” you hear him whisper, “not with you.”

[midgardian-witch]

In From The Rain

a small gift for the lovely @ierofrnkk

tags: friends to lovers | love confession | Steven being literally wet and pathetic | gn!reader

ships: Steven Grant/Reader

word count: 889

When you heard the doorbell ring this was the last thing you would have expected.

Standing in your doorway, dripping water like a drenched labradoodle, was Steven, almost obscured by a giant bouquet of red, and very wet, roses.

Before he can stammer out any reason for why he is here you pull him inside. You ignore the wet footprints left on your pristine floor by your uninvited visitor. Steven is stammering your name, visibly shaking from the cold but you shush him. You take the bouquet from his hands and put it to the side. 

“Alright, you,” you start, poking his chest with your finger, “are going to take a hot shower. You look like you are going to die on me any second.”

“But-”

“Shower. Now.”

Like a kicked puppy he casts his gaze downward, shuffling his feet awkwardly for a moment before turning around and walking into your bathroom.

“Bath towels are on the rack next to the heater,” you call into the room right after the door closes behind Steven, “Feel free to use my shower gel and shampoo. Don't touch my expensive conditioner though! It's the purple bottle!”

A muffled “Got it” sounds from behind the door and you decide to leave him to it. 

Your eyes are immediately drawn to the bundle of drenched roses you had set aside. Even though they, just like Steven, are soaked through by the rain outside they are beautiful. As you pick it up you bring one blossom to your nose, inhaling its scent. It’s not overpowering, like anything rose-scented always is, but a delicate, natural perfume that delights your senses. It’s rare to get this quality of flowers in the city, or at least not from just any flower shop. He must have spent a small fortune on these, you think as you take in the whole bouquet. 

Red roses.

It’s a bit cliche but as a romantic gift there is nothing that gets the message across more clear than this. Maybe a heart-shaped box of chocolates.

But who are they for? Did Steven not buy them and got them gifted himself? Or was he on his way to a date and stopped by your place for shelter from the rain? Or-

“They’re for you.”

You didn’t even hear the shower stop or the door open. Like a kid caught with their hand in the cookie jar you turn to Steven. He stands but a few steps away from you, a towel wrapped tightly around his hips, the rest of his skin bare to the world, his hair still damp and sticking to his forehead. 

“Sorry?”

“The flowers. T-they are for you,” he stammers, now that he has to repeat himself. His cheeks flush and oh that blush travels all the way down. You force yourself to not oggle him, instead fixing your gaze to his face.

“For me? But they are…,” you trail off, feeling a bit flustered yourself. Was he really saying what you think he is? 

“I- You know I had this whole speech planned and then you kinda dragged me into your shower,” he explains, chuckling awkwardly, “N-Not that I mind! The shower, I mean.”

“I have to admit I didn’t expect this,” you reply, your hands still clutching the roses. That’s when you notice that somebody removed the thorns, your fingers safe from any cuts or pricks.

Steven fiddles with his fingers, a nervous tick you’ve observed many times. “I have thought about this a lot,” he admits before his eyes widen. “Not me standing in your living room half naked. I mean that too but that’s not what I meant.” You can’t help but chuckle, his awkwardness always cheering you up in one way or another. “I am doing this all wrong, aren’t I?”

He steps towards you, gathering courage from who knows where, and takes your hands in his, the red roses falling unceremoniously to the ground. Your name falls from his lips and suddenly you can’t move your eyes away from him, can’t speak, can’t breathe.

“I am in love with you.”

A soft gasp leaves you and your heart starts pounding a mile a minute.

“You don’t have to reciprocate though I’d be a bloody liar if I said I wouldn’t like that. But here I go being a right plonker telling you how to feel, right? Oh my stars-”

“I love you too.”

Your words make him grind to a halt, his mouth hanging open while his mind catches up with what you said. His eyes start to sparkle and a goofy grin spreads across his lips.

“Really? You mean it?” he asks hopefully. You simply nod, your smile quickly matching his.

“Oh that’s amazing, love! I am so happy! I could-”

He almost reaches out to wrap his arms around you but stops, remembering his half naked state.

“-...put on some clothes.”

Another bout of giggles erupts from your chest and you can feel your cheeks starting to ache. “I’m sure I have something around you can wear. Just stay here, ok? Don’t run away,” you joke.

He stares at you with the most besotted look on his face you have ever seen. “I wouldn’t dream of it,” he replies dreamily before you turn around to look for a shirt or some sweatpants his size.

[elordilover]

Hii! Could you write a walker scobell x actress reader fic where she's new to acting and her first acting role is in the pjo show? Thank you!!

i love this!! thanks so much for the request! 💐

more than best friends

pairing: walker scobell x fem!reader

summary: you are casted as annabeth for the pjo series and become best friends with your co-star, walker.

warnings: nothing really! not proof read, reader plays annabeth in the seires, half social media

————————————————————————

yourusername- i am so honored to finally tell you that am part of this project! this cast has become family. i’m so excited for everyone to watch it, meet you at camp half-blood: december 20th 🌩️⚡️🌊

walkerscobell- so honored to be able to work with you, and call you my best friend 💐♥️

percyjacksonseries- ⚡️⚡️⚡️

view more comments……..

—————

everyone on the cast just announced their spots in the series, it was your first time doing this so you were a bit nervous. you watched your phone as all the positive comments started to roll in.

you heard the door to your trailer open and saw a familiar face, walker. you would never admit this to anyone, but you did sort of have a crush on him. but you had to put the admiration to the side now that he was your co-star.

“Y/N, do you want to go grab food since we’re done shooting for the day?”, he asked you.

“sure! where are we going?”, you replied as you got up and started exiting your trailer.

“i don’t know, in-n-out?”

“yeah, sure”, you said as you walked to the car.

the whole car ride was filled with scream-singing to one direction songs, it was amazing. the light that shined through his hair made you admire him even more. how the sunshine made his eyes sparkle. the way his smile grew when you were both singing along to the music that shaped both of your childhoods. you had always dreamed of nights like this, now they became your reality. your only wish was that he would see you as more than a friend.

—————

the next day you arrived to set early and we r straight to the hair and makeup trailer, which was were walker was also. you couldn’t wait to see him.

“hey Y/N, how are you?” walker asked as you walked through the door.

“i’m good, a little tired tho, how about you?” you replied.

“i’m good!”, he said.

you two fell into easy conversation while getting makeup done, or getting your hair fixed. it was always easy with him, you always felt safe and at home while you were with walker. it was just something about him.

—————

“action!”, you heard and immediately started to act out your scene with walker. it was going to be in the finale episode, where you place your necklace around his neck. it was supposed to be a little romantic, but it shouldn’t have affected you this much.

walker’s deep blue eyes stared you down, your cheeks immediately turned a deep shade of red. it was embarrassing, everyone on set would notice your admiration toward walker.

walker started laughing, most likely from your eye contact. almost every scene you guys shot together ended up like this, you and walker would burst out laughing. almost every scene had to be reshot many many times.

you shot the scene again and again until it was perfect. your cheeks still burning many minutes after.

—————

after many long hours of shooting, walker entered into your trailer to hang out with you. it had become a nightly ritual for you guys. you would lay on your couch and scroll on tiktok, showing each other the funniest ones.

after minutes of scrolling walker tilted his phone toward you. you noticed the tiktok featured you and walker. it was an edit shipping you two. it used clips from different moments from the press tour, and red carpet events.

“i mean… it’s a good edit”, you said nervously. you secretly loved seeing tiktok’s like these.

“yeah i agree, it’s one of the better ones i’ve seen. we look pretty good together, we make a great team”, walker replied not knowing how that last sentence would effect you.

“we sure do”, you agreed as both you and walker’s cheeks turned red.

—————

the other members of the cast had noticed how close you and walker had gotten, when you weren’t together, you guys were texting, and if you weren’t texting, you were probably asleep. aryan had brought it up to you last week, he said how everyone saw how you guys looked at each other, and how you were both always blushing when you had scenes together. you didn’t believe him though.

—————

filming had come to an end and you were definitely going to miss your new best friends, especially walker. you two had agreed to call and text as much as you could till you could be back together for the press tour.

—————

yourusername- filming this show was the best experience of my life, thank you to everyone who was involved in creating this amazing series. love you all ♥️

the first two episodes are out now! 🌩️⚡️🌊

walkerscobell- SO EXCITED‼️‼️‼️

percyjacksonseries- oh my god

walkerfan- Y/N’s feeding us with this bts content

Y/Nfan- it’s sooooooo good

walkerscobell- first two episodes. out now. 🌩️🌊

i love everyone on this cast so much, they have become my family, so so so thankful for everyone who got me here

yourusername- GO BEST FRIEND ‼️‼️‼️

percyjacksonseries- watching rn.

walkerfan13- PERCYBETH 😭😭😭

Y/Nfan- Y/N X WALKER CONTENT 🎉

—————

after the cast party, you decided to go over to walker’s place before your parents came and got you.

“hey Y/N, i kind of wanted to tell you something”, walker said nervously, “ever since i first met you you’ve inspired me so much and i just wanted to say that i really like you, in more than a friend way”, he rambled out.

you thought you were dreaming, no way he just said that. you stared at him for a second before kissing him, it was just a simple peck but you hope it got your point across.

“wait, you like me too?”

“of course, of course i do” you replied, noticing how red walker’s cheeks were.

he leaned in and gave you another kiss, you couldn’t believe this was real life.

—————

after a couple of months, many interviews, many nights on facetime, many ship edits being sent to each other, many days of secretly dating. you both decided to make your relationship public.

yourusername- my mom approves

comments on this post have been limited…..

walkerscobell- percybeth irl

comments on this post have been limited……

————————————————————————

thanks for reading, please send feedback and more requests!

🎀🧡🐞🫀⭐️🥥🫶🏻🐝🪻🪩🌎🪷🥿🫧🫐🧿🪞

[bluestarlett]

My CCCC hot takes

I’m seeing a lot of controversial opinions/callouts/hot takes in fandom and I just wanna give my 2 cents

listen I’m all for crazy cccc fan creations like it’s great but can we as a fandom collectively treat whole at least somewhat normally

and CJ HIMSELF cough cough.

I think it is severely harmful with the way some people treat Whole or CJ as a ‘character’ because he’s not… really as much of a character as HMS. There’s much bigger of a line to be drawn with him than there is with HMS. AND DONT GET ME WRONG! I’m a sucker for Whole content. And I also realize that Whole and Harmonia are kind of separate entities/ideas. I’m not talking about Harmonia here. Go wild with Harmonia. But please be normal with whole and cj

like that’s a real fucking man.

also this one is gonna be a little controversial with some people but. Tw for nsfw mention?

I think CCCC smut in itself is already pretty weird, or torture porn or any of that shit but ESPECIALLY when it directly involves Whole/CJ.

like, CJ himself has specifically asked people that whatever shipping or nsfw content they do with HMS, just keep Whole and himself out of it. And people can’t even do that! SOME PEOPLE (you know who you are. Or maybe you don’t bc I have you blocked) even go out of their way to break EVERY SINGLE BOUNDARY HE HAS SET for ‘fun’ and proceed to claim that it ‘isn’t actually harming anybody because he’s a grown man and it’s a joke’ when it. Very much is harming people. Not to mention he is HARDLY a ‘grown man’. / very directed (I don’t say this to infantilize Chonny whatsoever, but to say that he was literally FRESHLY 21 when CCCC began, and even now he’s not even 20 fucking 4 yet. It’s weird. Especially when people that are OLDER THAN HIM WRITE SMUT OF HIM???? Lowkey nasty if you ask me) and frankly, even if he was older, in no way does that mean that shit like that wouldn’t still harm him. Idgaf if you think he’s annoying, nobody thinks shit like that is funny.

And I know maybe it’s hypocritical of me to say “oh shipping is kind of weird here” as a profound eclipser however I mean the general fanon shipping. Especially on AO3. I think toxic/abusive yaoi is. Lame! Thankfully a lot of the Eclipse content online is actually pretty sweet more often than not, however in earlier fandom days everybody was crazy about them the way Omori fandom was about Sunnflower. Derogatory.

Bloodmoon however.

I’m not naming names but almost ALL of the bloodmoon content (on AO3 at least) is weird torture porn shit and soul is so fucking abusive and weird and??? Can we be normal about Soul and Heart ever. Not even just shipping-wise just as characters. Yall r so weird about these mentally ill men like girl they are based off of a REAL MANS TRAUMA !!!!

So, in much more respectful words,

please remember that Chonny Jash is a real person.

Please remember that HMSW are based off of a real person and his trauma.

thanks xoxo

[audreyscribes]

Ω PJO DEMIGOD HEADCANONS:

💖 APHRODITE: Goddess of Love and Beauty 🕊

author's note: I had a sudden idea about writing some headcanons Camp Halfblood demigods being claimed and what it's like for each respective god and cabin, followed by a small blurb afterwards. Thank you for reading and please like and reblog! The order is not in order of the cabin numbers. [PJO DEMIGOD HEADCANONS MASTERLIST]

When you arrive at camp, you’re already got eyes following you. There’s something about you that draws people’s eyes to you. It could be your face, your hair, your eyes, your hands when they move, how you walk, how you move. So when you get claimed by Aphrodite, your fanfare is totally expected by others and unexpected when you get a magical makeover by your godly mother’s blessing. You’re dressed to the nines, your look done up perfectly like you're a movie star walking on the red carpet. People stare at you with awe and you can feel it.

The moment you are shown the Cabin, all you can think of is “Oh god it’s a god dang barbie mansion”; this may either fulfill your deepest childhood dream or your worst nightmare.

There’s gossip everywhere in the cabin. You’re hearing about people’s love lives, social interactions, and everything about the people in camp. Even if you’re not as romantically inclined yourself, you’re practically spoiled for choice for hearing about drama. There may be no TV or shows for you to watch, but this is the next best thing. It’s like the Kardashians, House Wives, and Golden Girls all the same.  

Shipping. So much shipping. Shipping between campers in your cabin and outside the cabin. Shipping between movie stars to literal characters. Heck, even self-shipping is encouraged! It’s a shipper's galore. 

The Aphrodite cabin likes to have fashion runs. A lot of the Aphrodite demigods become models and do a catwalk. But if you’re not that interested in being a model, there are still ways to participate. 

If you like to design and make your own clothes, the Aphrodite cabin has your back. You have access to all types of fabrics, patterns, and materials you could need. You have no shortage of models for you to work with. If you’re interested in doing make-up, cosmetic or movie makeup,  you have plenty of people to practise on. Even if children of Aphrodite have the ability to have permanent makeup and whatnot, it doesn’t mean you still can’t use your skills to be on fleek. 

You know the meme where you see a woman putting eyeliner with the sword to make sure it's sharp? You see that way too often.

You're swiftly proven that functionality being sacrificed for fashion is a myth. It can be done and it has been done, but it's just some outweigh functionality with AESTHETICS

Stans. Stans everywhere. People don’t usually see the Aphrodite kids fight and break character unless it comes to their stan. If you haven’t seen them fight before, you do now. You’re still reeling from the BTS stans.

K-dramas. K-pop. Enough said. 

You look at yourself as best as you could, it was both familiar yet foreign.  It was like looking at the mirror, seeing yourself and all the positives of your body. Even if you had a negative view of yourself, it was gone and changed.  

A girl stepped up, her black hair swaying, and you looked at her in awe as she smiled at you. “Hi! My name is Silena Beauregard, welcome to Cabin 10!” 

“Oh hi” you said lamely, but before you could say anything further, you saw a large amount of pink in your vision. “Oh my god” you couldn’t help uttering as soon as your eyes laid on the Aphrodite cabin. It was pink in glory, and all you can think was that it was a true to god barbie house. 

“Ah yeah,” said Selina, “Welcome to the Barbie house.”

“Wait it’s really called that?” 

“Well, we really shouldn’t be calling it a Barbie house, but ... .I do admit it is pretty much a barbie house” Selina whispered in the last part. 

You couldn’t help snicker and Selina gave you a knowing smile and wink, before she led you to the door.

“You ready?” she asked. 

“Ready as I’ll ever be” you replied after taking a deep breath. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll be here for every step of the way” she reassured and you smiled back. As soon the door opened, there was a waft of perfume. It wasn’t particularly strong or particularly bad, in fact it made you happy, but you could smell it anyways. There was a twinge of emotion that stirred up in you; it reminded you of smelling a perfume that reminded you of home and love…for some reason, you had a flash of a woman holding you to her chest and you burying your nose into her, your eyes closing with warmth.

“Hey everyone, let me introduce you to our new half-sibling!” introduced Selina, gently putting a hand on your shoulder. You raised your hand and waved, introducing yourself. That was all it took before the flood work came. Immediately, all the inhabitants in the cabin begun to interview you from where you were from, your favourite colour, your favourite colour, band, and etc-

Your head was absolutely swimming but as you all talked to each other, sharing your likes and dislikes, you had a feeling you were going to be alright.

[doctorbitchcrxft]

Hollywood Babylon | Supernatural Series Rewrite | Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader (Eventual ? ;) )

Warnings: canon violence, canon gore, heights

Word Count: 4424

Mobile Supernatural Series Rewrite Masterlist

Supernatural Series Rewrite Masterlist

Supernatural Series Rewrite Playlist

Dean sat with his arm draped around your shoulders on the back of a trolley tour of Warner Brothers studios. Dean was ecstatic, whispering to you about all of his favorite 80s horror movies that had been filmed there, and you smiled fondly at his ramblings.

Sam turned to you and his brother, seemingly uncomfortable, and hopped off the trolley. “Come on,” he said.

“Let’s finish the tour!” Dean begged, but Sam was already walking away. With an eye roll from the older brother, you and Dean hopped off as well to follow Sam around the lot.

Dean excitedly exclaimed, “Guys, check it out, it's Matt Damon!”

“Dee, I don’t think that’s Matt Damon,” you laughed.

“No, it is,” he argued, face dropping.

“Well, Matt Damon just picked up a broom and started sweeping,” Sam deadpanned.

Dean refused to back down. “Yeah, well, he's probably researching a role or something.”

“Ah, I don't think so.”

You noticed a sign pointing to the right. “Hey, this way, I think Stage 9 is over here.”

“Come on, let's keep going this way,” Dean pleaded, walking forward.

Sam shook his head. “No, come on, we've gotta work. Dude, you wanted to come to LA.”

Dean sighed. “Yeah, for a vacation. I mean, swimming pools and movie stars! Not to work.”

“This seem like swimming pool weather to you, Dean? I mean, it's practically Canadian,” Sam scoffed.

“Yeah.” Dean seemed to hesitate before starting the next part of his sentence. “I just figured that, you know, after everything that happened with... Madison, y-you could use a little R-and-R, that's all.”

“Well, maybe I wanna work, Dean. Maybe it keeps my mind off things,” Sam grumbled.

“Oh-kay,” you cut in before the boys could become entrenched in a more intense argument. “So, this crew guy, he died on set?”

“Yeah, uh, rumors spreading like wildfire online,” the brunet responded. “They're saying the set's haunted.”

“Like ‘Poltergeist’?” Dean questioned.

Sam shrugged. “Could be a poltergeist.”

“No, no no,” the older brother said. “Like, the movie ‘Poltergeist’.”

Sam still looked confused.

“You know nothing of your cultural heritage, do you?” Dean scoffed.

You giggled. “Set of ‘Poltergeist’ was supposedly cursed. They used real human bones as props, and like, at least three of the actors died in it.”

“Well, yeah, it might be something like that,” Sam nodded.

“Alright, so this crew guy—” Dean began, “what's his name?”

“Frank Jaffey.”

“Frank Jaffey…” you considered. “He got a death certificate or a coroner's report or anything?”

“Well, no,” the younger Winchester started, “but, uh, it's LA, you know? It might not even be his real name. But the girl who found him; she said she saw something— a vanishing figure.”

“What's the girl's name?” you asked.

Sam thought for a second. “Uh, Tara Benchley?”

Dean began to grin widely. “Whoa, whoa, whoa, Tara Benchley? From ‘Fear dot Com’ and ‘Ghost Ship’, Tara Benchley? Dude, why didn't you say so?”

You sent a warning glare at him. “Curb your enthusiasm, Dean.”

He shrank under your glance. “Sorry. I’m just— I’m a fan of her work. It’s very good.”

Your lopsided smile returned to your face and you shook your head at his antics, following him to Stage 9.

Once inside, you noticed a man in a sharp, fitted tuxedo with an earpiece talking to another man wearing a headset around his neck. There was another holding a thick packet of papers; assumedly a script.

The man in the fitted tuxedo seemed to notice you and snapped his fingers in your direction. “Uh, excuse me, Blue Sweater Girl?”

You pointed to yourself quizzically, suddenly remembering the oversized blue sweater swallowing your small frame whole. 

“Yeah, you. Come here,” he ordered.

You briefly looked to the boys before heading toward the man.

“Can you get me a smoothie from Kraft?” he asked.

“Uh…” you stumbled.

The man scoffed. “You are a P.A.? This is what you do?”

You shook your head suddenly, figuring out what character you were supposed to be playing to infiltrate the set. “Yeah, sorry. I’m new. One smoothie comin’ right up.”

You turned on your heels with the boys hot on them.

“What's a P.A.?” Dean whispered.

“I think they're kind of like slaves,” Sam commented.

***

Hours later, the real crew was hard at work several scenes deep in their shoot for the day. You had swept the place for EMF, finding nothing and beginning to get slightly frustrated.

You met up with Sam and Dean at the Kraft services table.

“So?” you asked the brothers, shoving your hands in the pockets of your jeans.

“No EMF anywhere,” Dean said.

“Same here,” you nodded.

Sam snorted, “Great. So, what do you think?”

“Well, I think being a P.A. sucks. But—” Dean picked up a tiny sandwich, “the food these people get, are you kidding me? I mean look at these things. They're like miniature Philly cheesesteak sandwiches. They're delicious.”

He held one of them out to you, and you took it happily. “Thanks,” you grinned.

Dean took a huge bite of his own sandwich. “What'd you find out about the dead crew guy?”

“Frank Jaffey was just filling in for the day,” you said. “Nobody knew him or where he lived or anything.”

“Oh, great. So you found out about as much as I did,” Dean remarked. “Sam?”

“I did dig up some stuff about Stage 9's history.”

“Yeah?” you asked.

“Yeah,” he nodded. “Four people died messy here over the past eighty years. Two suicides and two fatal accidents.”

“Awesome. So any one of them could be a vengeful spirit,” you commented.

“Yeah. We've just gotta narrow it down more,” Sam nodded. 

Dean’s eyes followed Tara Benchley as she walked onto set. “I'll get right on that.” He walked off, leaving you fuming.

You trusted Dean, but you didn’t trust his downstairs brain. And the fact that the two of you weren’t officially together bothered you in situations like this. You eyed him intensely with your arms folded, every once in a while bringing a hand to your mouth to chomp on your mini sandwich.

“Cool it, (Y/N),” Sam told you. 

“I’m so cool,” you grumbled.

He made a bitch-face at you. “Uh-huh.”

You rolled your eyes. You stood by Sam, the both of you just trying to stick as close to the wall as possible for a few minutes. Then, Dean came back up to you. “I know who our mystery man is. And he’s not dead,” Dean said.

***

You then went to the home of Gerard St. James and confirmed that he was, in fact, the man who had posed as Frank Jaffey for the day. The whole thing was designed by the producers to stir up press for the movie, and it worked. In fact, you were planning to leave town chalking the whole thing up to a hoax when the man in the tailored suit who’d called you “Blue Sweater Girl” wound up dead; dropping into a scene hanging from his neck. 

And so, you were back on set. You gave a lopsided smile at the sight of Dean so thoroughly enjoying himself; donning an equipment belt with a headset attached and snacking on as many sandwiches as he could get his hands on. 

You noticed a P.A. whose name you learned was Walter storming off set and followed him. “Walter!” you called, trying to catch up to him.

“Leave me alone,” the short man grumbled, but you kept quickening your pace until you were by his side.

“What happened back there?” you asked.

“They’re screwing with the movie,” he replied.

“How so?”

He scoffed. “Didn’t you hear them? They keep adding explainers about how the ghosts can hear the summonings from hell or how the ghosts couldn’t possibly be afraid of salt,” he mocked the director.

“What’s got you so fired up, though?” you pushed. You reached the edge of the studio lot near the parking lot. “I mean, ghosts aren’t real, so, what difference does it make?”

He laughed humorlessly. “ ‘What difference does it’—” he cut himself off. “Look, you wouldn’t get it. Just— leave me alone.” He stormed off toward a green Jeep and slammed the door once inside it.

Perplexed, you made your way back onto the set. You took in the various actors and crew members milling about, reading over sides, setting up lights, mingling in the corners of the soundstage— and for a moment, you wished you could actually work on a set like this. 

Dean was easy to find; frequently barking commands and responses into his headset, and Sam never far from him. That poor kid was so far out of his element. 

“Hey, sweetheart, whatcha got?” Dean asked you as you approached.

That nickname still had a devastating effect on you. “Walter’s a little testy for a P.A. What you got?”

“Uh, not much. Other than EMF readings up the wazoo. For some reason, it's a legit haunting now,” he said. “Oh, and some freaky static feedback on the scenes.”

“Well,” you began. “Who’s the ghost? What’s it want?”

***

After reviewing one of the tapes Dean had snagged from one of his new crew-member friends, you discovered an apparition in the corner of the room just as Brad, the man who died, had fallen through the roof. Sam had somehow recognized her.

“Here. Check this out,” Sam said, putting a piece of paper between you and Dean who sat across the table from him.

“Yeah, go for Ozzy,” Dean spoke into his headset. “No, I don't have a 20 on Tara, I think she's 10-100… Okay, copy that. “ Dean looked back to Sam as you skimmed over the article he’d given you. “I'm sorry, what were you saying?”

Sam shook his head in exasperation, and you took the opportunity to explain what was happening to Dean. “Elise Drummond,” you relayed. “Kind of a rising star back in the thirties. Had an affair with a studio exec. Piece of shit kinda left her in the dust when he was done with her, and she hung herself from Stage 9’s rafters; right into a scene they were shooting.”

“Just like our man, Brad. So, what, she's got it in for the studio brass?” Dean questioned.

“Possibly,” Sam shrugged. “I mean, it's a motive. And Brad's death matches hers exactly.”

“We're digging tonight, aren't we?” Dean sighed.

***

Later that evening, you walked beside Sam into the Hollywood Forever Cemetery to dig up Elise Drummond’s grave. 

“Which way?” Sam asked his brother, who walked ahead of you holding a map.

“Uh... over here,” he replied, continuing ahead. “Hey.”

“Yeah?” 

The older brother gestured to a memorial for Humpty Dumpty with a wide grin.

You shook your head, suppressing an amused sigh. “You’re a freak, dude,” you jested. “Kid in a candy store over a bunch of dead celebrities.”

“You just don’t get it, sweetheart,” Dean responded. “Hey, we've gotta go check out Johnny Ramone's grave when we're done here.”

“You wanna dig him up, too?” Sam deadpanned.

“Bite your tongue, heathen!” He passed another memorial, effectively distracting him from his younger brother’s blasphemy. “Oh, that's cool.”

“Focus, Pinky,” you said, nudging Dean’s shoulder. 

“Hey, why am I Pinky?” he protested.

“ ‘Cause Sam’s clearly Brain,” you replied simply. 

“So, what does that make you? Pharfignewton?” Dean chuckled.

“Oh, hell no. I’m Dot!” you protested.

“What, we’re doing a crossover episode?”

“Duh. You guys are the freaky lab rats. Not me. I’m flippin’ adorable,” you sassed.

Dean smiled delightedly at you. 

“Guys, please,” Sam huffed, bringing your attention back to the task at hand. “What I don't get is why now? I mean, after seventy-five years, Elise Drummond suddenly goes homicidal, you know? Why this movie?”

“Well, maybe she's mad they're making a scary ghost flick,” Dean shrugged.

The brunet snorted. “Come on, is it really that scary?” 

“Here we go,” you announced upon reaching Elise’s headstone. 

“Yahtzee,” Dean remarked and immediately set to work digging.

***

You returned to the trailer Dean had scored to get a few hours of sleep after exhuming and torching the corpse of Elise Drummond. There was a pullout couch in the trailer as well as a single queen bed, and you and Dean agreed to share the bed. Sam clearly had questions, and you knew you would have to answer them in the morning.

“This is fuckin’ awesome, man,” Dean grinned, shrugging off his jacket and boots. “I feel like a movie star.”

You giggled. “Did you ever wanna be one when you were growing up?”

“Meh, I wanted to be a rockstar more,” he replied. “You got first shower.”

“Thanks.”

When both of you had showered and readied for bed, Dean slipped under the covers beside you. “Oh, holy crap, this is so much comfier than a motel.”

“Yeah, probably because the mattress is more than an inch thick,” you snorted, settling into Dean’s side. You laid against him in silence for a moment, before a question that had been plaguing you escaped. “Hey, Dean?”

He hummed in response.

“Do you— Do you have a… thing for Tara?” you asked.

He shifted to look down at you. “What?”

“I mean, I know you and I haven’t really… talked about anything yet…” you began to ramble, “but if you wanted to, y’know, go there with her— I just— it’d really upset me, is all.”

“(Y/N), if I wanted Tara that bad, do you think I’d have jumped at the chance to share a bed with you?” he asked earnestly.

“Well, I don’t know—”

“What, am I that much of a man whore?” he questioned before suddenly reconsidering. “Don’t answer that.”

You snorted. You paused for another moment, hesitant to ask your next question. “Would you— Would you ever wanna— I don’t know, be… more than just… this?”

Dean tilted your chin up with his finger. He leaned into you, kissing you gently, giving you all the answers you needed. “Fuck, yes,” he said against your lips. 

***

The next morning, you awoke to sirens blaring outside the trailer. You jerked against Dean, waking him up, and he immediately straightened up and pulled you into his side protectively. He relaxed when he realized it was just a siren. However, that posed a more troubling question: why was there a siren outside your trailer at seven in the morning?

You quickly got dressed and met Sam at the door; heading down to see what the commotion was about. Sam went to investigate the crime scene as Dean went to talk to the friends he’d made on the set. 

You milled about, simply observing. You noted Tara looking visibly upset as she stood with her costars; clearly having just woken up. People holding clipboards and headsets talked in hush voices, rushing from one group of crew members to another. You saw the director talking to a policeman, a body bag being rolled into an ambulance, and a nervous P.A. huddling with her friend a distance away from the scene. You’d seen all of these people before at least once or twice, and you assumed the sirens had to have woken everyone up. At least, everyone that was staying on the set and didn’t have homes nearby. Sam came back over to you.

“Run-in with a giant fan,” he said in a hushed voice. “Same thing happened to an electrician back in '66, a guy named Billy Beard.”

“What the hell, dude?” you questioned.

“I don't know. Doesn't seem like Elise this time, either. It's not her M.O.”

“No, no way. Couldn’t be her. We deep fried her already. But it’s weird; these things don’t normally tag-team,” you thought aloud.

The director suddenly stood on the hood of his car. “Everybody! Gather around, okay! I've got an announcement to make.” He handed his keys to the P.A. who’d been nervously chewing her nails in the corner with her friend before addressing the group again. Dean walked calmly over to you at that moment.

“Everyone! Huddle in!” the director called. “In light of Jay's accident last night, and in cooperation with the authorities, we're shutting down production for a few days. I know, I know. Look, I'm not gonna lie to you. We've had a few setbacks this week. But we all know what Jay and Brad wanted more than anything. And that was to see Hell Hazers 2: The Reckoning on screens all across America! Now, we owe it to them to go on, and to pull together and make this damn movie, huh?”

The crowd before you cheered and applauded.

“But— but, but, but not today. Go home. Someone will call you,” the director finished.

You snickered, turning to head back to your trailer.

“Any chance you got more copies of those dailies?” you asked Dean.

***

Later that day, you were barely able to keep your eyes glued to the screen in front of you. While watching the B-roll of the movie was fun, the movie itself was awfully boring and cheesy. You just wanted a ghost to jump out at you already, instead of needing to sift through hours of footage while Dean and Sam were out researching.

A pretty blonde actress interrupted Tara’s character as she began to read in Latin from a book. 

Dean and Sam reentered the trailer.

“Hey,” Sam said.

“Hey,” you replied. “Anything?”

“Billy Beard was cremated,” Sam informed you.

“Perfect,” you deadpanned.

“Any more ghost cameos in the dailies?” Dean asked.

“Not in the first six hours,” you sighed, sitting back on the couch and running a hand through your hair. “Y’know, maybe the spirits are trying to shut down the movie 'cause they think it sucks. 'Cause, I mean, it kinda does.”

Suddenly, something caught your attention in Tara’s awful Latin pronunciation. You rewound the tape a little bit, listening closely. “Holy shit, guys,” you said, pausing the tape. “That’s the real deal. A real life necromantic summoning ritual.”

Sam looked at you confused. “What the hell is that doing in a Hollywood movie?”

“Beats the shit outta me,” you scoffed. You paused a moment. “Wait, Walter.”

“What about him?” Dean asked.

“He was all bent outta shape about them changing the ‘real’ ghost stuff. Like the salt, or that bit they added in about the ghosts having super hearing to be able to hear the Latin chanting from hell,” you said.

“Yeah, but he’s a P.A. What does he have to do with any of this?” Dean questioned.

“Dean, I think she’s got a point,” Sam chimed in. “What if Walter wrote the script, and he’s the reason this is all happening.”

“Dean, do you remember what your P.A. friends said the writer’s name was?” you asked.

*** You and the brothers tried your best not to weird Marty, the writer of the movie, out too terribly much as you pried into the history of the writing. He ended up confirming your theory; Walter had written the original script. You ended up getting copies of the original screenplay from Marty and brought it back to the trailer you were squatting in. 

“Lord of the Dead” was the title on the cover page.

“Should've kept Walter's original script. It's actually pretty good,” Dean noted.

“Yeah,” Sam agreed. “And it reads like a how-to manual of conjuration, like a textbook on how to summon ghosts and get them to do whatever you want.”

“Yeah, like kill people,” Dean realized.

“I’m thinkin’ he got pissed they tinkled in his cheerios and started using black magic to get back at these people for wrecking his movie,” you chimed in.

“Motive and means,” Sam nodded.

“It's worth checking out,” the older brother shrugged.

As night fell, you exited the trailer and were going to try and find Walter at his home address. However, when you reached the parking lot, you noticed that distinctive army-green Jeep. “Wait, that’s Walter’s car,” you told the brothers. It was one of the only cars in the lot aside from the Impala. Immediately, the three of you ran back to Stage 9 to see if you could catch Walter in the act of trying to hurt someone else.

Thankfully, you made it to the studio just in time. You could hear a man screaming and a fan loudly blowing, and you ran toward the sound with your shotgun raised. Dean came up behind Marty and shot at the ghost of Billy Beard, effectively making him disappear. Sam clicked off the fan, and you followed Walter up to the rafters.

“You are one hell of a P.A.,” you heard Marty telling Dean as you climbed. 

“What are you doing?” Walter asked you, still a bit of a distance above you.

“Uh, the fuck are you doing, dude?” you questioned. “Raising spirits from the dead? Makin’ ‘em murder for you? Do you have a death wish?”

“You don’t understand,” Walter shook his head.

“You’re right,” you said. “I don’t.” 

You began to charge him, but he held his hands up. “Just... wait, look,” the man pleaded. “You put your heart and soul into something, years of hard work. It's years, and then they take it! And they crap all over it! And then— and then they want you to smile and say, ‘Thank you’.”

“Listen, I get it, man,” you began, “I know that feels shitty. But this is in no way, shape, or form the answer.”

“Look,” Walter scoffed. “I've got nothing against you, sweetness.” You cringed at the nickname as he continued talking. “You're not part of this. Just please, please, just leave. But Martin's gotta stay.”

“Sorry, can't do that,” Dean called up to you. “It's not that we like him or anything, it's… just a matter of principle.”

“Then I'm sorry, too.” Walter picked up the talisman around his neck and began to mutter in Latin. The set began shaking, and you grabbed the railings on either side of you to steady yourself. 

“(Y/N)!” Dean called up to you. 

Suddenly, a ghost with a horribly mangled face appeared in front of you, knocking you to the floor. You aimed your shotgun and fired, making him disappear. When you looked behind where the apparition had stood, Walter was gone. 

“Dammit!” you cursed. You then spotted him sprinting across a rafter in the distance. The quickest way to him was going to be running along a large steel pipe next to you that led straight from your platform to his. 

“(Y/N), are you fucking crazy?!” Dean exclaimed as you began to sprint across the pipe, trying not to be too careful that you slowed yourself down while simultaneously trying not to fall to your death.

“Maybe!” you called back, leaping off the pipe and clutching the railing of the rafter. You pulled yourself over the top of it, boots landing firmly on the mesh, steel floor. 

You saw Walter chanting in the back corner of the rafters and ran at him; he hadn’t noticed you til you were quite literally standing on top of him. You had him completely cornered.

“It’s over, Walter,” you told him harshly. “Give it to me.”

Walter threw the talisman to the ground at your feet, shattering it completely. “There! Okay, now no one can have it.”

Your breath caught in your throat. “I wouldn't have done that if I were you.”

“Oh, yeah?” he challenged. “And why not?”

“Because you just freed them. Ain’t nothin’ I can do to help you now,” you said. “You brought ‘em back and forced them to murder. They're not gonna be very happy with you.” 

The rafters below you suddenly creaked and separated from the wall, Walter screaming as he fell to the ground below. You screamed, hanging onto the railing for dear life as it hung loosely from where the platform was connected on its other end.

“(Y/N)!” the brothers called.

Your feet swung limply below you as you searched for something— anything— to grab onto and keep you from suffering the same fate as Walter. You noticed a thick cable attached to one of the strings of lights hanging down into the scene below and swung yourself over to it; latching on the way a fireman would grip a fire pole. You let go just enough to slide all the way down, letting go when you were no more than five feet from the ground. You rolled over your shoulder before you hit the floor and undoubtedly broke a bone, having learned that it was best not to land on your feet in these situations.

Dean, Sam, and Marty looked down at you in shock.

“What?” you breathed out. “Nobody’s gonna help me up?”

Dean and Sam immediately outstretched a hand each to help you off the floor.

“Dude, how are you not dead?” Sam questioned. 

“Yeah, and since when are you chick-Ethan-Hunt?” Dean asked.

You shrugged. “My dad made sure I was agile enough to do shit like that. Still didn’t think I was gonna survive that.”

Sam and Dean chuckled, and you started heading out of the studio. “Shit, probably screwed up my arm, though,” you hissed, rotating the shoulder you'd used to tumble set over when you hit the ground.

“Hey, if that’s the worst injury you have after all that, let’s be thankful,” Sam commented.

Marty followed a bit behind, seeming a bit in shock. “Uh, guys?” he called.

The three of you turned.

“Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it,” you replied. “Seriously. To anyone. Ever.”

He nodded, seeming slightly afraid of you. 

*** You and the brothers decided to stick around for just a few more days to enjoy yourselves after everything that happened. You watched as Tara’s co-star, just as the brothers told you Marty had, directed Tara where to shoot by seeing where the ghosts were in the phone’s camera. 

“You find out there's an afterlife, and this is what you do with it?” Sam snorted at Marty who was standing nearby.

He looked up from his cell phone, grinning. “I needed a little jazz on the page.”

You bid your goodbyes to the people you’d “worked” with that past week and walked toward the Impala with Dean’s arm around your shoulders. You laced your fingers with his. 

Dean grabbed a sandwich with his free hand, and the three of you walked toward a painted sunset backdrop crew members were rolling away. “God, I love this town,” he chuckled, making you and Sam laugh.

The backdrop before you moved to reveal a beautiful sunset over the Hollywood Hills, bathing you in the sun’s glow. 

Series Rewrite Taglist: @polireader @brightlilith @atcamillanorrman @jrizzelle @insomnia-bookworm @procrastination20 @mrs-liebgott @djs8891 @tiggytaylor @staple-your-mouth @jesstherebel @rach5ive @strawberrykiwisdogog @bruhidkjustwannaread @mxltifxnd0m @sunshine-on-marz @big-ol-boat @mgchaser @capncrankle @chervbs @simpingdeadcharacters @nesnejwritings @stillhere197 @tearsforhan @take-it-on-the-run @iloveyou2mia @maxinehufflepuffprincess @ohgeehowdigethere @seninjakitey @berarenado @s0urw00lf @princessleahorgana @quarterhorse19 @isla-finke-blog @silverdoragon @karacaroldanvers @gayandfairycore @examishbookwyrm @star-yawnznn @real-sharena-h @fandomloverrr @metalmonki @onlyangel-444 @yu-winchester @benniwiththefanni @daisychaingirl @immagods @missmieux @yoongi-holland @littledebbieinabigworld

[nvuy]

omg did u see the sunday leaks ab his path and element..... hes also suspected to be released in 2.7 😭😭😭 sunday lovers r in agony rn

sunday potential leaks under cut;

aundayyyysyeyyyyy sundayydydyerrrerredder

hgrrgggggggggggggg

imaginary harmony… hehehehegrrrrrrrrrrrr

stellaron hunter aundaygrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr

i always had this thing where you are an on call mechanic and you travel to planets and people commission you to fix their cars or their ships or whatever. you own a little warehouse on your home planet, whatever whatever.

you love your job. you’re also a bit of a grouch though. bit snarky, sarcastic, but you can offer some good advice if you need to.

you also happen to be the mechanic elio calls on when their ship needs repairs. it’s all completely secret. they call you in, you come on board, fix their shit, they pay you nicely, and then you leave.

you know them all well enough by now.

you’ve got elio who, when you come on board, says, “oh, by the way, watch the stairs on your way down.” (and surely enough you end up toppling down because there’s a loose step and you bruise your knee) (thanks for the warning). sometimes, you’re convinced he breaks their mangy old coffee machine just so you can visit again.

kafka loves to mess with you, but she means well. she enjoys a good chat, and sometimes when she’s not busy, she’ll follow you down to the engine and bring coffee. she drinks it black. gross.

she’ll ask about you, what you’ve been up to, how you’re feeling, whatever whatever. calls you beautiful, too. you guys probably kissed once. it’s sort of complicated.

blade is unfortunately your favourite. you love giving him giant hugs when you cross paths on the ship, and sometimes it’s like a reward when he returns the favour. at first you thought he was some big brooding hulk of a man, and then you learned he’s actually just some dude with really big arms. you also learn he owns bunny slippers and he likes pancakes, as weird as that is.

silver wolf cooks them best. you don’t really speak to her; she’s way too absorbed in her phone, but she thinks you’re cool. sometimes asks you questions about her PC or phone hardware and stuff, to which you reply, “i’m not tech support, weirdo.” she knows that, but your reactions are always fun. if kafka’s not around, she’ll show you the clothes she’s planning to buy online.

so you’re a common occurrence on the shuttle, sure. imagine your damn surprise when you stomp on board in the morning and when kafka greets you over her coffee, you accidentally shoulder check some random skinny dude (that’s not elio, because elio wouldn’t stand in the way at all) when you open the door.

you don’t pay it mind.

rather, you barely even notice and stalk over to the stupid machine while elio waves you a good morning. as you’re working, kafka leans on the bench next to you and offers you some of her coffee. it’s gross, but it keeps you awake enough to finish the job.

she’s chatting about whatever again until she falls comfortably silent.

“so, uh…” the machine buzzes to life as you plug it back into the wall. “what’s with angel face?”

she hums. “sunday.” she’s watching him now. silver wolf is showing him something on her phone, and he looks hilariously confused. “poor bird’s lost. flew too close to the sun.”

whatever that meant.

she takes her mug back from her hands. “why? like him?”

you hum lowly. when you turn and lock eyes with him, sunday quickly looks back down at silver wolf’s phone.

“handsome.” you weigh your options. “i think we’ll get along just fine.”

you were both doomed from the start, you and sunday. the pining was so obvious. you both practically chased each other around and then played it off as a coincidence when you bumped into to each other.

blade took it no mind, silver wolf gagged every time you two interacted. elio thought it was sweet, actually (he’s not surprised at how you two have developed). kafka plays wingwoman, because of course she does. she won’t voice it, but she thinks you both deserve to feel love again.

[kcokaine]

(TW: assault/abuse mention)

I don’t wanna be devil’s advocate here but it needs to be pointed out that assuming someone likes irl the same things they like in fiction is faulty logic. By the same logic one could just assume you are a murderer or someone who would commit murder or cannibalism irl based on your fic. And what to think of Gege himself? Are we going to assume he is a p*do or, a child murderer or a cannibal for including those themes in his work when he could have written about anything else? (to be clear, I’m NOT assuming any of that because that would be ridiculous.)

It’s perfectly valid to not want to engage in problematic ships but going as far as saying the people who write them are all like that irl is a step too far.

I’ve seen people self admittedly writing underaged incest fics to work out their own trauma about being assaulted as kids. It feels wrong to assume they’re implying what happened to them wasn’t wrong or that they wish to repeat it. We’re all living in the same world and we all cope with it differently. If it helps to explore a horrible scenario creatively to do so I can understand even though I don’t agree or use the same method. Sure, some people out there do horrible things, but the greater part of use is just trying to get by.

Not saying any of this to be combative or “calling you out” or anything, but please do take these points into consideration. Going around making sweeping assumptions about people who don’t know on the internet like that is irresponsible.

I'm not even gonna read this whole thing because you clearly didn't read what i said or just lack reading comprehension. In the first sentence you are literally misinterpreting my words already. I didn't say all people that like fictional pedo shit are pedos irl, I said it is many times the case they are attracted to children even irl, i didnt say it has to be the case. I called it a slippery slope and i said it is just not a good look. BECAUSE, those characters look like children shota/loli is the case. You have no fucking business being attracted to those things TRAUMA OR NOT. People use media to cope, thats their thing, they can do that im not taking it away from them. But being attracted to children doesn't make trauma your excuse. Trust me, I'm very open minded and i try to find moral reasoning and understanding in all things. Fetishes, kinks, coping. It's all fine, but there are cases where people are just straight up fucking pedophiles and their harddrive should be checked. Also you explaining to me that gege writing sukuna as a cannibal and meimei as a pedo doesnt make him a cannibal pedo is funny. You think I don't know that? My own characters are all horrible people in many ways and its not because I am that. I'm just making realistic takes on issues in the world that many people have. The problem is fetishization and glorification of those said bad things. People that jerk off to drawings of kids are glorifying those things.

You think george r r martin is an incestious, murderous, rapist, pedophile because he made game of thrones have problematic topics accurate to the period they live in? Realism and fetishization is a massive difference.

I don't think its wrong to like Cersie, Jamie from game of thrones. I don't think its wrong to like meimei. They partake in horrible things but that doesn't mean you agree with them, that doesn't mean you like those things. You like them as characters, their complexity. You don't like loli porn for its complexity, you want to jerk off to little kids in a legal way.

[silence-ofthe-llamas]

I feel I’m VERY late to the party with the mecha AU considering how bone deep Pacific Rim runs within me but I’m chomping at the bit. Gnawing at it. I LOVE YOU ALL. I’ve reactivated my tumblr for this. Good god. @keferon my leige. I'm meant to be SLEEPING.

Anyway, I’m a general nuisance, I wont be following much of the pre-established lore too closely because of who I am as a person, bone app the teeth.

TexAid for the soul is more potent than Chicken soup.

First Aid wakes up in an ice cold sweat.

It’s not the first time. He’d lost count, actually – it seemed that every morning was the same now. He’d wake up, he’d shudder, he’d carefully extract himself from his damp-with-sweat duvet, he’d shower, and then he’d pretend that everything was perfectly fine and normal.

His function first and foremost was one of a medic. He trained to work with live patients. His expertise was with the living, not the cold stares of the dead.

But lately, all he’d been dealing with were corpses, and it all came down to one reason.

Vortex.

Superstition wasn’t something that he bought into, but the theory on base was that the mech was haunted. At the start, he didn’t believe it – mechanics were plagued with stray code, oddly executed scripts. There was nothing supernatural about it. All of the pilots said that they felt another presence within their mechs with them – there wasn’t anything special about Vortex’s AI. If one wanted to look at it that way, all of their mechs were haunted.

But Vortex was different. Of course he fucking was, why wouldn’t he be. No, no, nothing was allowed to be normal. Ever. Firstly, there was the staring. The mechs weren’t meant to stare, but whenever he went close to Vortex, he could feel his piercing gaze against him. It wasn’t normal. They should have been offline without any human input, but Vortex stayed stubbornly awake and studied his every move. Sometimes he’d swear he could hear his internals humming, the rumble of moving parts, his plating trembling and straining against the dock as he tried to move. If someone got too close to him, he’d hear the hum of weapons systems warming up. It was part of their onboarding process that they were warned against approaching him, now. He’d cut them down without a second thought.

There was also the small fact that he had a tendency to kill his pilots. And it wasn’t even an exaggeration – their means of slaughter always came from within. The cameras that filled the insides didn’t show any breaches, no weapons were brought on board, the vital signs monitors from the pilots and their own helm-mounted cameras showed no foul play of an external parties part. No. It was… Vortex. The mech showed his displeasure in a shower of blood and moving parts – and that was if he was being nice. If they weren’t power washing the remains of a digestive tract from his floor, they were manoeuvring a live body that acted like a dead weight, the pilot a stuttering mess, mentally shattered and broken. They’d never managed to get any of them back into active duty – a lot of them First Aid had no idea what had happened to them. They were simply shipped off somewhere, never to be heard of or seen from again. The worst part of it was that they were all missing fingers, as if they’d been cleaved right off by sharp metal as they reached out for something.

An alarm ripped through the base, and he gagged on his morning coffee. He knew what that meant – deployment. And with deployment came another victim, courtesy of Vortex, and all that horrid stench and morbid fascination that sent his spine tingling and brain firing to the point of insanity that paired so closely with it.

Ambulon frowned at him. “Jittery this morning, Aid.”

“I just know I’ll be on Vortex duty again.” He groaned.

Ambulon patted him comfortingly on the shoulder. “Don’t let it get to you, Aid. Pharma only does it because he trusts you.”

Yeah, right. It’s so I haven’t got an excuse to be by the morgue.

You steal one Quintesson body…

He briefly remembered the smell of the grave dirt as he’d re-interred them into the ground instead of the stone cold morgue, and quickly smelled his coffee instead.

The deployment seemed to last an age. First Aid managed to get through all of his deskwork before they returned, and Vortex staggered into his bay. First Aid was waiting patiently by the gate as the docking station clasped around him, holding him in place as cables came down from the ceiling to plug into him.

“How many bets this guys dead?” Someone behind him asked, elbowing the one stood next to him. First Aid ignored them, focusing intently on the mech.

He could see blood behind the glass. It was leaking out down the side – they were more than dead. They’d been eviscerated.

The visor lifted with a loud hiss, and First Aid took a deep breath. He held it so he didn’t have to inhale the initial stench – that part was always the worst, having been left to fester within him – and carefully studied the scene before him.

Organs hung down from the ceiling. Scraps of fabric hung limply from the still locked harness.

“What did he do to them?” First Aid quietly asked himself as he stepped forwards with a bucket.

There was a rule - you never got inside Vortex on your own. First Aid followed it religiously, and he could hear someone behind him, and so he felt perfectly comfortable in getting inside.

Only the visor snapped shut with a sickening crack as their leg was cleaved clean through, the scream barely muffled by the glass.

“No!” First Aid flew to the glass of the visor, pounding against it. “Are you okay?!”

What a stupid question that had been. Of course he wasn’t okay. The smell in the air burned at his throat and turned his stomach, and he looked down at the dismembered leg.

He couldn’t breathe. Or he was breathing too much? He didn’t know, but his chest ached and his head spun and he felt like ice had been injected straight into his veins, every hair stood on end as panic gripped him. It took every ounce of self control he had to not scream from terror when he heard pistons loudly slam into place, firmly locking the visor.

Oh, god, have mercy.

Emergency exits. These things had them, right? He’d had to pull a barely conscious pilot from one once – he’d gotten trapped in it in a malfunctioned ejection sequence. The button would be big and bright red, surely – and with a protective cover so they didn’t smack it by mistake in the middle of a fight and end up launched into the face of a Quintesson. His eyes scanned wildly, breath catching in his chest as he tried to suck in air that didn’t make him want to vomit, hands hovering over the dash. Mental images of the pilots missing their fingers played in his head like an omen.

There. Bright red. The words were worn off, the plastic scratched. The metal around it was worn and faded from use, and the plastic cover was long gone.

Blood crusted it. He smacked it anyway.

Nothing.

He looked back to where it should have been, hyperventilating. What did that mean? The techs had never found anything to be wrong with it before. Everything was functioning as normal – it was why Vortex was still even allowed to be operated. So why didn’t the emergency escape open?

Red light flooded the cockpit. His teeth chattered together as he slowly turned to look at the display that had lit up, white text running across it.

[LEAVING SO SOON?]

“I’m just a medic.” First Aid pathetically said. He almost bit his tongue.

[TAKE A SEAT]

Tears prickled his eyes as he unbuckled the harness and sat down. He tried to ignore the wet squelch as he sat in what remained of the previous human who sat there.

“What do you need from me?” He tried to sound strong as he asked.

The screen remained blank. The lights slowly dimmed, leaving him in the dark with only the sound of Vortex’s hot systems for company. He tried to calm his breathing, timing it to the rhythmic thunk of a nearby fuel pump, and wrung his fingers together.

It would be okay. It would be okay. Everything was going to be okay-

The chair suddenly flew backwards, and First Aid shrieked. His throat felt raw with how hard he’d screamed, clinging on tightly to whatever he could get his hands on. He studiously kept his limbs away from the console – he had a theory on how they’d lost their digits, and he was not keen on finding out if it was true. The chair snapped back upright again, and he whimpered, tears pooling in his eyes and his bottom lip trembling. The mech shuddered, a grinding sound rumbling through the cockpit and rattling his bones.

[PLUG IN] the screen instructed. A cable fell from the ceiling.

Helmet. He needed a helmet. They had the required port for that cable. He scanned the floor, ignoring the rising nausea as he searched for the helmet from the previous pilot.

There. Behind the chair. He picked it up, and had to look away when he realised the head was still inside. He shook it out, humming loudly to block out the sound of it hitting the floor, and kept his eyes closed as he put it on and ignored how much it stank of organic metal. He reached up for the cable, and gently guided it to the port-

Agony. Burning agony. His back arched as he screamed, hands clutching the helmet as if willing it to stay on despite how hard his legs kicked and thrashed. Electricity coursed straight through him, setting him aflame as his brain tried to catch up with his body.

It hurt. It hurt so much.

First Aid gnashed his teeth together as he fought with his conflicting emotions. He wanted to know why. Why Vortex had trapped him in there, why he had gone to this length to do this to him, why him. But he also wanted to run, to run so far away that he was nothing more than a distant memory. He didn’t want to know why Vortex had taken such an interest in him.

But oh, oh he did. He did want to know what he’d done to catch the AI’s attention.

The pain slowly subsided, the fried nerves numbing to the raw energy that charged through them, and he cracked his eyes open.

[GOOD BOY <3]

“Oh, god, I think I broke something.” First Aid whimpered. He suddenly understood just why so many pilots came to them with nerve damage, with extensive burns, and why most of their heads were metal. The connection was. Intense.

“Don’t be such a pussy.” A voice spoke directly into his head. First Aid gasped, sitting up straighter. It was strangely human, yet equally as mechanical.

“What-!”

“I just want to talk, but it’s so irritating to have to wait for you to read the screen. Removing the barriers is so much easier, isn’t it? Now, to business...”

First Aid gasped and whined as he felt pressure in his head, white not points of pain slowly pressing through his brain. His eyesight flickered and faded in and out, his sight shifting from the inside of the cockpit to the chaos right outside – chaos that he couldn’t even hear – and he was glad to see that the man who had been right behind him was receiving medical attention. What a relief. Humour that wasn’t his and that he didn’t recognise pulled at his lips, and he felt a strong urge to smile so wide that his lips split and cracked.

The pressure on his head increased, and he felt his eyes cross, reality slowly slipping through his fingers like thick slime. Red dripped from his nose. Where was he, again? Why was this happening to him? What was even happening to him- Awareness snapped back to him in time with a loud bang on the glass. He heard his name, muffled. Someone was calling to him. He should go to them, right? “Don’t move, I haven’t finished looking at you yet.” First Aid felt phantom sensations of ice cold hands pressing against his skin, a shudder running up his spine. He felt a prickle run down his arm, chasing the feeling of the tips of someone’s fingers running down the bare skin. Obediently, he held still despite how curious he was to go and look. “I can tell you like the good stuff.” An invisible hand patted his cheek and the mech shuddered, loud and clunking. “God, I’m so lucky I found you.” “Found me?” His chest felt weird. His everything felt weird. It was difficult to keep his eyes open. “I’ve been watching you. On the cameras, when you’re in the hangar with me, your files. Fascinating. How wonderful you are to me.” “That’s a bit creepy. You could have asked first.” “I don’t like being told no.” “I would have liked it more if I’d known it was happening.” Why was he so readily admitting this? Where were his carefully constructed walls and defences, keeping the abnormality at bay? He felt like he was an open book and Vortex was just turning to the pages he wanted to read. “Maybe I’d have done something if I knew I had an audience.” The mech shuddered again, harder this time.

“Come on, baby, talk to me wont you? I’ve been so lonely.”

“Maybe if you stopped killing your pilots you wouldn’t struggle so much with that.” He gritted out. Fuck, everything hurt.

“You’ve got a bit of a mouth on you, don’t you.” A sound that felt like anger rumbled through him. “I like it.”

“Can I go now?” He felt woozy. Something was wrong. Something was really, really wrong, his ears felt wet and his face felt wet and he could taste copper-

As if on cue, there was a loud bang on the visor – someone was pounding it with their fist. A shared stab of annoyance flashed through them.

“Question first. How did it feel to have a Quintesson in your bare hands?”

“How did you know about that?”

“Come on, don’t be shy, you know I’ve seen everything.” He crooned. “Tell me. I’m so desperate to know. I know you liked it – I can feel it.” It felt as if he had someone’s arms wrapped around him, their mouth right by his ear. If he closed his eyes and focused, he could feel their warm breath ghosting over it.

“It felt fucking amazing.” He thought back to it. The warmth of the body – an infant, tiny in comparison to the adults that dwarfed their houses. How thick their blood was, how it dripped down through his hands. The burn of the smell, mineral rich and glowing bright blue.

“You fucking tease.”

“You cut through them every day.” First Aid argued. “What’s so special about that?”

“You can really feel it. I’ve got metal between me and my prey.”

The banging was louder, and First Aid’s vision shifted to be through Vortex’s. There was a big group of them now, he had an audience.

“I should go.”

“You’ll be back, honey.”

First Aid ripped the helmet off, and nausea hit him like a truck as he felt a sharp wrench in his head. He loudly gagged, folding in half, and pressed a fist to his mouth to keep himself from spilling his guts into the cockpit. Vortex was certain to kill him if he made a mess. Sucking in a deep breath, he staggered over to the glass and gently placed his hand against it. It felt like half of his consciousness was somewhere else, somewhere he couldn’t reach.

“Please?” He was starting to feel disorientated, the sudden disengaging scrambling his brain. What memories were his, or the previous pilots? Pain suddenly flashed through him and he screamed, his limbs going numb. He felt warm liquid slowly run down his suit, red blooming amongst the white, bone wrenching from bone-

[LATER, DARLING <3]

Vortex’s visor finally opened, laugher echoing in First Aids head, and he fell out face-first onto the catwalk. He was gasping for breath as he scrambled away, shaking and trembling and swallowing back vomit. His hands flew over his body, checking for injures, for limbs he was certain were missing – intact. He was completely intact. His team had their arms around him and were pulling him away faster, leaving a trail of blood smeared after him – was that his? Or was that the pilots? - and were shouting. All of it was just noise. Pure noise.

Giddiness bubbled up in his chest, and he laughed. It started quietly, a little chuckle. Disbelief at the situation, he thought. Pure, utter relief that he was alive. The cannibal mech had eaten him, but here he was – spat out whole and unharmed. His next laugh was a little louder this time, and Ambulon paused, taking notice. First Aid didn’t see him any more, his whole vision taken up by Vortex and the loud snap of his visor clamping back down into place, a hiss as the mechanism locked it back down. He could have sworn he was smiling, but it was ridiculous – the mech didn’t even have a mouth.

He didn’t realise he was still laughing – and hard – until his stomach began to hurt and he felt light headed. Gasping for breath, he let himself fall back onto the floor, staring blindly up at the ceiling. He could see the red lights of Vortex’s visor reflected on the metal there.

“Felix?” The voice of his mentor pierced through his peals of laugher. First Aid looked up and saw Ratchet running towards him, face twisted in agony. He felt himself start to laugh again, and he had to fight to not start punching himself in the stomach to get himself to fucking stop it. It wasn’t funny. None of this was funny. Why was he laughing.

“Is he hurt? Why is he bleeding?” Ratchet demanded as he knelt down next to him. Ambulons response was inaudible, First Aids ears ringing. He felt something dribble from his mouth, and from the acidic taste in the back of his throat he assumed that he’d finally thrown up. He didn’t remember turning – his airway was clear. Two hands gently cupped his face, forcing him to look at someone.

Ratchet.

“Can you hear me?” He gently asked, tension clear in his voice. First Aid could, but he didn’t know how to respond. He slowly blinked, hands reaching up to clasp at his wrists with trembling hands. The adrenaline was burning off, replacing itself with a leaden heaviness that threatened to drown him. Slowly, he nodded.

Get me away from that mech, he tried to say. They get it and I hate that we understand each other.

Ratchet seemed to hear him. “Help me move him.” He was looking at someone else, but First Aid didn’t want to look away from his face. He committed every detail to memory, every line, every grey hair, every follicle and aged scar and flush of colour. It felt like he was seeing him for the very first time.

The world spun and his stomach clenched as he was lifted unceremoniously onto a stretcher, and he took one last glimpse of Vortex before the oxygen mask was fitted over his face and he couldn’t see anything any more.

09090909

It was highly inadvisable.

But he was doing it anyway.

That taste he’d got of Vortex was like a breath of fresh air to him – he hadn’t realised how stifling the company on base was until he’d met him. Ratchet would be so disappointed in him. Pharma would hang him by his guts. Ultra Magnus would try and make it so he never saw the light of day again.

One moment of feeling his teeth at his throat and he was addicted. He wanted him. He wanted physical scars he could touch and remind himself that it hadn’t been a dream, it was real. Carefully sneaking through the base, First Aid crouched and peered around corners, internally humming the Mission Impossible theme. It felt ridiculous, but if he didn’t distract himself he’d make himself vomit from laughing too much again. He had found a random face mask and slapped it on, hoping that obscuring his identity a little would help him get into character.

They hadn’t found a new pilot for Vortex yet – they still went through the usual procedure of finding one with the right personality and skill set, of testing how well the AI meshed with the mind of the pilot outside of the mech before allowing them to go inside. They had a few candidates, but now it was a question of ‘are they more compatible with other bots?’ and ‘how expendable are they really?’ before they stuck them inside of him.

Like lambs for slaughter. They knew they were going to die – but what else could they do? Vortex was their strongest mech. If he went down, their whole operation would crumble with him. Mechs were expensive and difficult to make, the AI’s complicated and prone to disaster.

Pharma didn’t take his eyes off of him for two whole weeks. He’d fallen out of the mech looking like the pilots whose brains had melted under the pressure, his arm marked with a burn that followed the path of a nerve, mapping it onto his skin. Pharma had stared at it, long and hard, brain ticking over. He wasn’t to go near Vortex again. Not for a while, until they figured out why he’d decided to kidnap him, and why he’d decided to spit him back out. They knew why he’d mangled the other medic. He thought it was fun. He’d said so himself, writing messages in the morning memo. They still hadn’t figured out how he was doing it, but if you were early enough in the day you’d see it before they’d caught it. But First Aid didn’t do too well in following instructions, in listening to orders. The Infant he’d plucked from the formaldehyde to get a better look at was evidence enough of that. The fact he was scrambling to get back inside of Vortex right now was yet another reason why First Aid was to be kept under lock and key - god, if they knew anything about him they’d never let him see the light of day again.

The catwalk that lead out to the mechs was a stones throw away. A guard stood watch, hands firmly on their gun.

God damn it.

First Aid rocked on his feet, wondering how he’d get him to move, when he suddenly felt a prickle on the back of his neck as if he were being watched. He shuddered and whipped his head around.

Nobody. Alone. No eerie glow of a camera – not that there were any over on this side of the hall – and no shadowy figures. He held his breath and strained his ears – all he heard was the cough from the guard and their sigh of boredom. He slowly looked back to the guard, and a faint red glow caught his eye.

Vortex’s visor was on. He was watching.

The sound of something falling to the floor caught the guards attention. He quickly turned and ran out onto the catwalk, looking down at the floor. He quickly looked back up at Vortex and scowled.

“I’m not stupid, Vortex. I’m not going down and getting that.”

Vortex did not respond. The guard tutted and turned on his heel.

Something else fell to the floor, a little louder this time.

The guard threw his head back with a sigh.

“You are the worst.”

He marched off, out of sight, and First Aid saw his window of opportunity. He quickly slipped out, thankful for his socks muffling the sound of his steps, and hid behind the terminal the guard was stationed at before he turned back around and walked over to the terminal.

“Yeah, yeah.” He was speaking to someone on the phone, drumming his fingers on the terminal. “It’s Vortex again. I know, I won’t get close – yeah. He’s dropped two this time.” He paused for a moment, listening to what the person on the other end had to say, before making a sound of disgust. “Go and check? I am not getting close to him!”

First Aid could hear a raised voice on the other side, and strained to see if he recognised it. Before he could pin a face to the voice, the guard sighed loudly. “Fine. I’ll go look. You’ve got my will there, right? Take yourself off of it.”

The guard didn’t look back at the terminal as he walked to the stairs and descended down them. First Aid glanced between the stairs and the catwalk, and quickly crawled over. Peering over the side to see where the guard was, he gained an uncharacteristic burst of bravery before he sprinted towards where Vortex was, visor open and waiting for him.

“Can I?” He asked in a hushed whisper. Vortex didn’t respond. He gingerly approached, noticing that every single camera inside his cockpit was trained onto him. He swallowed nervously, and clambered in.

He should have been used to climbing inside of Vortex. He’d done it enough times. Maybe it was because he wasn’t wearing any of his protective gear? Not his uniform, or his helmet, or even his gloves. Just himself and his pyjama shorts, his t-shirt, and his socks with little bears on them.

Mmm. First impressions. Wonderful.

He should have gotten changed first.

[TAKE A SEAT] lit up the screen.

He slipped into the seat obediently, taking care to not touch the controls. He coyly waved at the camera.

“Did I wake you?”

[YOU DIDN’T. I LIKE YOUR SOCKS]

The bears stared back at him. First Aid tried not to think about the rumbling he now recognised as laughter that rolled through the cockpit.

“Thanks.” He replied, red tingeing his cheeks.

[THAT’S A GOOD LOOK ON YOU]

He pressed his legs more tightly together. “The socks?”

[NO, YOU’RE GOING VERY RED]

[MAYBE I SHOULD CALL YOU LITTLE RED INSTEAD]

The helmet dropped from the ceiling, firmly attached to the cable that would connect organic to mechanical.

[I WANT YOU]

[<3]

First aid scrambled with the harness, clipping himself in place, before putting on the helmet. It burned just as badly as the first time, and he saw as the nerves in his arms glowed with the energy of it – without the proper implants, there was nowhere for the current to go but him.

He whined, squirming in the seat. He ground his teeth together and squeezed his eyes shut, counting down from ten and losing his place three times before the connection settled. Vortex was a heavy and oppressive presence in his mind, and he chewed his cheek as he cracked an eye open.

[LET ME TAKE ANOTHER LOOK AT YOU]

The warning wasn’t even a verbal one. He read helplessly as he felt cold hands clasp him once more. Digital fingers made of 1’s and 0’s probed his brain, and First Aid arched in the seat, teeth clenching down over a loud moan of pain. Neurons fired agonisingly and his hands scrambled at the harness, the tips of his fingers raw and torn and bleeding against the rough fabric. Memories were brought to the surface unbidden, dragged out by artificial means, and others flooded in to take their place. He inhaled sharply, eyes going wide as the realisation hit him. Vortex was trying to show him something. He wasn’t a ghost. He wasn’t even an AI.

He’d been entombed in it. In the mech. Vortex had been a real, breathing human being, mocked in a sham trial in the name of obtaining more pilots. Rich men had paid him to do terrible things, and he had taken the entirety of the blame. Hundreds of thousands of pounds of funds, countless hours, blood, sweat, and tears – all for one mech. A prototype, at that.

First Aid blinked as a bright red screen flashed up, text displayed across it. He squinted and rubbed his eyes, grimacing at the drag of sore and exposed flesh against the rough material of his face mask, and blinked.

[LOCKED IN]

“W… what do you mean locked in?” First Aid hesitantly asked. Like… literally, he was locked in? He knew that. He was connected to Vortex’s nervous system – he could feel that there were bolts in place keeping the cockpit well and truly locked down like a fortress, impenetrable except to the override codes the high command kept locked in a vault in their office or the request of the pilot. He felt amusement push at the edge of his awareness, a shudder of a laugh running through the mech, and he clarified.

“I know your dirt, and now you know mine. Do you think high command are going to let you go peacefully?”

Ah. A threat. Of course. Worried he’d run? He wasn’t going to. He was fascinated by this mech – the joy of being caught in his mechanisms was sure to sing in his ears, the pure delight of watching him carefully pick apart his prey like a hawk dismantled a rabbit was like a chorus of cherubs to him. And Vortex knew it, he knew it and he loved it- he was certain of it, the way his mind melded with his, pushing against him and caressing him, a warm blanket around his psyche.

“I’m not going to leave you.” First Aid took a deep breath, the unsettling stench of bleach and cooked meat and rotting oranges filling his lungs. “No, I’m fascinated by you.”

He tensed, eyes briefly widening as he felt a grin that wasn’t his tugging at the corners of his lips, threatening to split his face in two.

“Happy about that?”

“Extremely.” He purred. “I’ve seen what your hands have done, what they’re capable of. I think we’d make a great team.”

“What if I refuse?”

Images flashed in front of his eyes. Bone fragments scattered around the cockpit, blood and guts and gore hanging obscenely from the ceiling. Blood ran thickly on the walls, the smell foul and rotten. First Aid wretched.

“You’ll kill me?” He hated the excitement that bled into his voice, how eager he was to feel the mechanism close down around him, to feel his metal deep inside of him, for his last thought to be about his touch. “It’s a shame you can only do that once, you know. It’s so exciting, all the different ways you could do it to me. You could make me completely unrecognisable, identified by DNA alone. Or maybe flood the cockpit with gas, slowly suffocating me before I realised what was happening.” He bit his bottom lip. “I wish I knew what it all felt like.”

A new image, one of gears and cogs deep inside of him. All sharp angles and straight edges. The presence was probing inside of him, trying to figure out his reactions. He pressed his hand to his mouth and gasped as his teeth pierced his bottom lip without him realising it. He took a deep breath to steady himself, and another. Vortex probed again impatiently. Respond, damn it.

He looked up at the camera, glad that his mask hid his face, the excitement glowing on his cheeks. “I’ll show you.” His voice was breathless. “And if your use for me runs out, give me a little warning before I’m a permanent feature, please?”

“I wont let you run away from me.”

First Aid swallowed hard at the burn of yearning in his chest. “You’d catch me if I tried.”

“Damn fucking right I would.”

He watched the energy sing in his nerves, the pain spreading down his limbs. His digits were starting to go numb. How much longer could he hold out? He never wanted to leave. He felt flayed open and alive. Squirming, screaming, and alive. Red dripped down and stained his pyjama shirt. Damn it. He liked this pair.

“How do you control yourself? You want what I want, you wish you could do it. So why don’t you?”

“I’m a pacifist.”

“Are you? Or is that just what you tell yourself so you can sleep at night?”

First Aid whimpered as the pages in his mind flicked, a burning sensation flaring in his arms. He watched the skin there turn red, the connection starting to be too much. His nose felt wet as he thought of it, as the memories Vortex was looking at came to the forefront of his mind. He liked surgery. He liked anatomy. He liked the cadavers and how they felt under his hands, picking them apart and pulling on tendons and ligaments to move them like puppets. Even earlier, his first pet. A hamster. He had told his parents that he’d buried it in the garden all by himself, and they had praised him for being such a grown up young boy, when really he had picked it apart like he had practised on his teddy bears and then blamed on the dog before shoving it into a hole in the ground to hide the evidence before anyone had seen what he was doing.

Vortex chuckled.

“Oh, let me show you how exciting a Quintesson can be. Little Hamphrey hasn’t got anything on them.”

[junhui-png]

puppy love ⌦ .｡.:*♡

mingyu x reader x scoups? (Still figuring it out LOL)

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summary: first year of college, you literally knew no one and you planned for it to stay that way but damn were you wrong

notes: uhmmm hiii idk what this is I got rlly bored so yeah LOLL if you read this I hope you enjoy and I’ll try and update like every other day hopefully 😽

‼️disclaimer: this is not proof read so I apologize if there are any spelling or grammar mistakes ‼️

genre: seventeen college au, love triangle between scoups and Mingyu, Mingyu being on a football team, financial major scoups, angst??, fluff, cute friend ships, Hoshi, Joshua, Seungkwan, Minghao, and Wonwoo r your besties, Also besties with Yunjin (Le Sserafim) and Minnie (G-IDLE), other seventeen members are mentioned?? Childhood friends, cursing, drinking

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you were always quiet, even when you were a kid. Because of this, you had very few friends and very much struggled to make new ones. Throughout Middle and Highschool the only thing you could do was to stuff you face into books to pass time. Eventually, you being a loner helped you to getting into your dream college. You thought you would be fine all by yourself at your new university, getting a degree in Creative writing, but hell you were so far from the truth. You thought you could just ignore everyone around you and just keep your head low but god was that somehow ten times harder now that you had entered college. Soon enough you had been paired with a man in your Journalism class names “Jeon Wonwoo” You didn’t know anything about him, you didn’t know anything about anyone there actually. He has Black somewhat messy hair and a pair of black glasses to compliment his hair. Both of you were introverts so the first week of the project was painfully awkward but as the next few weeks flew by, you had successfully made you first ever friend in maybe 10 years? You weren’t even sure. Once you had finished the project (and of course gotten an A) you and Wonwoo stayed in touch and talked frequently inside and outside of class. Till he offered to invite you to meet his study group. You were of course hesitant but you ended up going and just like that you had made another 5 friends and then because of those new friends you met new people and became their friends. Before the semester even ended, you new basically everybody on campus.

——present timez————

“you finished the essay Mr.Marten assigned” Minghao askes you, slightly shifting in his seat to get a better look at your computer screen “yeah basically” you simply reply “well then…” You noticed Minghao had been really fidgety ever since you both had entered the library, which isn’t how he normally is, meaning something’s up. “You ok? Something’s bothering you, right? You turn your body to face him and his body seems to relax just a bit “ok so… I kinda..maybe, possibly told soonyoung that you would come to the party he’s hosting tonight” Minghao keeps his head slightly down “Minghao..” you sigh, slumping back in your seat. You rarely ever went out, only when it was some sort of special occasion but besides that you basically just stay in your dorm or at a library or cafe. “I know I know” he says apologetically “You never go out and I swear your gonna go insane if you don’t go out once in a while” you chuckle a little at his stupid reasoning “still I should have told you I just wasn’t thinking and now Soonyoung is all excited about you coming and I just felt bad telling him, you know?” You nod, “I guess I’ll go” you let out another tired sigh as you pack your things “really? Damn ok I didn’t see that coming” Minghao laughs, getting up from his seat “I’ll see you later than” He smiles and you smile back at him before he walks out of the cafeteria and you finish packing your things.

It’s about 7:30 when you leave your dorm and get an Uber over to Soonyoung’s house. You were dressed up for once in a while, wearing a grey denim tube top with matching jeans paried with black boots and a black bag. “It’s my first and probably last time going out for this month, might as well just go all out” is what you thought to yourself while getting ready, but now in front of Soonyoung’s house you gravely regretted your stupid decision “Y/NNNNNNN!” Seungkwan yells your name from the entrance of Soonyoung’s house “hi Seungkwanie” you giggle patting him on the back “I didn’t think you would come!” He says all giddy “A promise is a promise” you give Minghao a dirty glance, which he catches and throws you an apologetic look before rushing of to get another drink. Seungkwan leads you to the couch and plops down next to you “do you want anything to drink?” He asks and you take a moment to think about it before just saying “fuck it” and asking him to bring you whatever he’s getting and he nods, leaving you on the couch with some other girls. Your not left alone for long until you hear someone call for you “Yoo! Your Soonyoung’s friend right?” A tall man with black hair and a stunning face. “uhm yes” you responded nonchalant “You don’t know me but I’m Kim Mingyu, Graphic design major” Mingyu sticks his hand out for a handshake “I’m y/n, Creative writing major” you shake his hand, giving him a slight smile and he returns it. “Anyways imma get straight to the point. I’m interested in you. You caught my eye earlier and asked around about you and they said you were close to Soonyoung, and im also his friend and I’ve never seen you before, so I wanna be friends” The man says bluntly. Mingyu’s sudden “confession” Has your head spinning, searching for some sort of response “uhm ok..?” Is all you manage out but he seems satisfied with your answer “Alright, then go out with me this week” again this man and his blunt statements have you so lost and you can’t even bring yourself to say anything before he says “of course with Soonyoung, and Minghao and everyone” Your face gets a little hot realizing he wasn’t asking you out but in fact his grammar just sucked and you misunderstood him and he definitely got what you were thinking “You thought I was asking you out, didn’t you?” He says with a sly smile “whatever” you roll your eyes, hearing the man’s giddy laughter “IM BACK SORRY” Seungkwan squeezes through the crowd, two bottles of beer in his hand “some guys back there were CRAZY drunk” he sighs, slumping down next to you and placing the drinks In front of you. “Drink up!” Seungkwan lifts his cup up for a cheer.

“Damn girl you didn’t even drink that much” One of you girl friends, Yunjin says, trying her best to keep you up. It was well known in your friend group that your alcohol tolerance was basically 0 and that’s also another reason you didn’t go out much “CAN SOMEONE TAKE HER HOME!” Yunjin shouts over the crowd but to be met with no answer “I can!” Mingyu’s booming voice is easily heard over the loud music “Omg great thank you so much, I’ll text you her address” Yunjin pats Mingyu on the back before rushing back to the lively party, leaving you with him “let’s go then” he puts his arm over you as he helps you out of Soonyoung’s house and into his car. “You know, I think I should go out more” you proudly announce “Then take my over and have dinner with me and the rest of the group” Mingyu chuckles, starting the car “Ok!” Is all you chirp before you completely knock out.

“I swear to god y/n you better get up right now” you best friends voice echo through your foggy mind “what..” you mumble, the warm sun hitting you through the windows. You were now in your dorm room completely changed. “What happened..?” You scratch your head, still trying to process your surroundings “You tell me!” You roommate, Minnie exclaims “you tell me why, when I was getting ready to go to sleep, looking the WORST I could ever have looked someone knocked at our door and it was the most ANGELIC BEAUTIFUL SUN KIST Man I have ever seen, holding you bridal style!” Minnie exclaims once again “I WAS WEARING A FUCKING HELLO KITTY SHEET MASK” Minnie cringes at the memories of last night “damn..” you mumble, giving her a somewhat apoplectic look “ugh it’s whatever, he said you were drunk and he was just dropping you off and he brought you some medicine as well so take that before you leave” Minnie sighs, leaving you alone in your room “what the fuck is happening”.

You change into a pair of grey sweatpants and a beige like hoodie with your hair up in a ponytail “Sorry for all the trouble last night” you said, even thought you couldn’t recall anything after you had entered Mingyu’s car you knew you had probably brought hell down on Minnie night care routine “it’s fine, just take your medicine before you leave” She places the medicine on the counter before heading back to her room. You take the medicine with some water before putting on your shoes and grabbing your bag “OK BYEE LOVE YOUU” you shout before leaving the house. You rush down to campus and into your next class just a minute early “You feeling ok?” Wonwoo asks you “I feel horrible” you sit down next to him, placing your stuff down next to your seat. The entire class was just a bunch of yapping you couldn’t pay attention to because, one you were too tired and two, you were still trying to remember literally anything from last night. “You have the address right?” Wonwoo’s sudden question pulls you out of your trance “Huh??” You mumble with a confused look and Wonwoo face also molds into a confused one “For dinner..?” He tries clarifying but you still don’t seem to get it “the dinner plans??? Me, you, mingyu, Soonyoung, Joshua, Seungkwan and some other guy?” Wonwoo tries again and it finally clicks, but why was he asking you “I know what your talking about but I’m not going?” You say “really? You said you were going?” Wonwoo says and that’s when you finally remember some of last night “OH SHOT! Mingyu told you that right?” You ask and he simply nods “So you are going” he asks again and you let out a sigh “yeah..yeah I’m going” you’re tired of going back and fourth so you just let it go “ok cool! I’ll text you the address!”

The rest of the day was boring, nothing special just the usual classes than group studying, solo studying and some “HI’s” and “How are you’s” here and there. Once you had finally finished your classes for the day, you return home to get ready for the dinner. You wear a simple black short-ish dress with a black leather jacket and the converse (didn’t feel like wearing the boots) “You’re going out?” Minnie peaks through your door and examines your outfit “you look nice” she smiles “thank you” you smile back “I’ll be back at maybe 9?? 10? Not sure but I’ll text you ok?” You tell Minnie and she nods “I’m probably gonna go out later, anyways have fun!” She calls out as you shut the door. The restaurant was only a 5 minute Uber drive and you also weren’t the only person arriving at that time “Hey” Mingyu says, almost creeping up behind you. You hadn’t talked to him since Soonyoung’s party and all though nothing happened you felt awkward, like you were meeting him for the first time all over again. “Hi” you reply “And uhm sorry for the trouble I caused the day before yesterday” you and Mingyu both walk into the restaurant and spot Joshua, Soonyoung, and Seungkwan at a table “don’t sweat it, it’s what friends are for” he chuckles, leaving you behind and rushing over to the table we’re your friends had been seated. Friends is what he called you. Could you two really be friends if you had just met the other day? “Y/N sit over here!” Joshua’s calming voice calls out to you “mhm!” You responding rushing over to the table and taking a seat next to Joshua. You guys talk a bit while waiting for appetizers when Mingyu says something that catches your attention “coups said he’s outside right now” “finally god damn” Soonyoung chuckles and the rest laugh “who’s “coups”?” You ask “one of my friends, I invited him today” Mingyu says and you nod. “Sorry I’m late guys!” A voice from the entrance calls out. Everyone turns around, including you to see a familiar face “COUPS! What’s up man!” Choi Seungcheol “omg..” at first you weren’t sure but now you were a hundred precent sure that was Choi Seungcheol “Seungcheol?” You mumble, in case you were wrong. The man’s eyes shot up to you and they almost immediately soften “Y/N??” He voice changed immediately after calling your name “you two know each other???” Wonwoo asks and you slowly nod, still in awe “it’s been awhile?” He chuckles.

previous / next

part 2 coming out 01/31/24 or 02/01/24 😽

[mimi-fy]

Anya + her relationships with the crew full analysis (tw j*mmy/18+/sensitive topics mentioned!!)

Brief description/personality

Anya is a young woman, her parents aren’t mentioned and she has no support and she works at a job that pays high and abit dangerous but she still works there nonetheless. She most probably is in debt and her parents don’t support her and she tried to get into medical school eight times but failed which explains why she is distraught after she is fired and she admits she has no savings. She took the job on the tulpar for its high pay and not for dangerous environment not to mention the lacklustre supplies and the fact that she would be the only woman on board on a ship with all men for a year, men she didn’t know. Anya is a sweet woman who does her best which is a lot as she saved curly with only a standard medical kit depite not actually getting into medical school and only taking the nursing classes the pony express provided. Before ‘the incident’ Anya is seen as lively and carefree joking with others who are even above her status. Before the indecent she was close with everyone maybe even jimmy before the incident. But after the incident Anya is quiet and reserved. She watches her tounge and only speaks in metaphors, she is overlooked by jimmy and curly who are the ones in charge.

Relationships

In the ultrasound scene we see how Jimmy perceives Anya. He doesn’t see her as a living being. He sees her as mearly as a pile of flesh, her womb, vagina, eyes and her ability to have a baby ‘that he tries to ignore’. The signs that he is an abuser start even before the tulpar crashed. When Anya says that he doesn’t take her seriously and he jokingly says ‘i have found myself sexually attracted to horses’ is a form of r*pe itself. Forcing her to listen to his desires and kinks just because it’s her job. And it is possible that jimmy made Anya drink one of his ‘cocktails’ he fed Swansea. Meaning that jimmy possibly drugged Anya and took her by force. Jimmy is larger than Anya older and has a better status than she did. As curly tried to believe that jimmy was still a good guy after what he did. Even knowing that Anya was harming herself or killing herself when she locked herself in medical. Jimmy did not give two shits. He is more concerned about curly and the rest of their medical stash inside the room and offers no comfort and doesn’t try to calm her. And he only cares about saving curly with daisuke who is naïve to the events and why Jimmy doesn’t give two shits about Anya. When jimmy looks over her body there is no importance of her death in jimmys eyes. Even when he spirals to insanity and each person gets some scene or way of guilt tripping jimmy. Anya has no place or mention or any symbol her id is blacked out and there is no symbol of her. There is only the place of her child (the pony showed as polle but malformed and grouped where you see it chasing after jimmy and jimmy running away and stopping jimmy from running away at the start of the game long with the babies cries heard). He only saw his mistake. The baby in her. He didn’t see Anya.

Curly who doesn’t take her seriously and tries to ignore the problem, as Anya told him that he knows who the father is but, he just wanted to ignore it. As in the nighttime scene jimmy is the broken pixel curly does not see. He mearly cares about the whole picture (the tulpar) he tried to talk to jimmy but he shrugged it off. And could’ve possibly plotted to kill Anya so that she couldn’t live to tell the tale. When curly has a delusion where he is walking through a sea of blood and ladders. He sees the warning signs and ignores it. (The warning signs were jimmy. Anya warning him about jimmy and him ignoring it) meaning that curly is an enabler (which is just as bad as the do-er!!). And is as guilty as jimmy as he saw the signs. And he didn’t help Anya at all didn’t let her have the gun for safety, and didn’t give jimmy any form of punishment.

She tries to take charge and confront jimmy herself because curly had failed to do anything. And he mearly tells her to ‘take care of it’ which later becomes ironic. Because jimmy cannot take charge. For those who said that ‘Anya should’ve went to the father figure Swansea!’ No. She shouldn’t have. She went to someone authoritive instead. Because she wanted someone in charge. Swansea would’ve gone in rage and murdered jimmy which could’ve escalated everything. She mearly wanted it to be dealt with quietly, she either went to curly because of that or that he was the closest one to jimmy and wanted to figure out why. Even if anya didn’t trust curly she still would’ve went to him, because most of the time curly took charge and he ‘is responsible’ and he is the captain, and the captain takes care of his ship.

Swansea and Anya were relatively close, the game doesn’t go too far about their relationship but they care for one another. Anya was worried when Swansea started drinking the mouthwash and was visibly nervous showing that she cared for him. Swansea saw Anya as mature and later on when they were talking in the cockpit, Anya then revealed to him about the assault and they were close enough that Swansea believed her. Anya only told Swansea when all hope was lost and they were in a bad situation she then told Swansea who was visibly upset and having a tight grip on his axe when jimmy came in. Meaning he did escalate when he found out but kept cool because of Anya. Most believably Swansea would be the one ranting his ear off to Anya and complaining. But he saw something off about Anya and sat his ass down and listened to her, and despised Jimmy. And most probably comforted her after she started crying.

Daisuke and Anya are close as they are the youngest on the ship, Anya could admire how young and youthful he is. As daisuke and Anya share sticky notes with drawings on them. And Anya cherishes them and puts them on a cork board in the med bay, they also occasionally play a board game and Anya gets quite competitive. They share a little brother and big sister relationship and daisuke is very worried when Anya locked herself in med bay and is confused and oblivious and wants to ignore what she could do. As he was the only one on the tulpar who didn’t know about the incident and was kept in the shadows by Anya wanting to protect his innocence that she lacked. Anya hated her youthfulness, while daisuke loved his and it was his personality. As possibly jimmy r*ped her because he saw her as a fragile thing and youthful. Anya and Swansea both probably agreed on having daisuke being the one saved instead of him or Anya. And daisuke is pressured by jimmy to ‘save’ Anya/mostly curly and instead of jimmy going to save her himself he mearly didn’t care. Daisuke cared deeply about Anya and is horrified when he stumbled upon her body.

Death

Anyas death is expected in their situation, she wouldn’t want to put a baby through this world to suffer. Which explains why she said ‘I’ll take care of it’ it, referring to the baby in her stomach and referring to jimmy telling that same line to her. Ironic. She possibly knew she would’ve died eventually, as giving birth in space while the risk of jimmy being onboard would be very risky. She is the only medical personal on the ship, and she cant abort it safely. she chose to die willingly rather than make her baby suffer. She cared for the child even though it led to her demise and the crashing of the ship. Eight months pregnancies are usually eight months. Carrying a baby in an unsafe environment and being forced to be with her r*pist. She locked herself in medical and took the pills because it was the swiftest way to death. She locked herself with curly as she trusted him. Even is he was an enabler and let everything happen. She still saw him as captain and didn’t consider Jimmy as captain and saw him as someone she could go to. Even in death. Curly saw everything. And decided to not take action. So he saw everything and was unable to take any action.

Thx for reading pls tell me who u want next!! :)

[ashen-char]

back and forth

ship: max fox (better things) x gender neutral reader, though fem reader or paisley pov implied

warnings: mentions of a minor/adult relationship that was present in the show. fuck arturo!

summary: all max's boyfriends ever do is make her miserable and doubt herself. but you think your best friend is amazing.

word count: 1100+

notes: have some yearning :) inspiration/request is here

Max's boyfriend is an asshole. You've hated all of them, yeah, but this one pisses you off more than even the others did. Well, maybe except for Arturo. That 36 year old creep was the worst. You watched as Max was mesmerised by the man's supposed maturity and the thrill of dating someone so much older but she still 'clicked with'. Every time you saw them together, it infuriated you. You hated hearing Max go on about how he made her feel special when, in reality, he was just manipulating her. He wasn’t interested in who Max truly was. Not like you are.

From your spot on her bed, you watch as she paces back and forth, phone clutched tight in her hand.

Max had invited you over as she got ready for her date, pouring her heart into her makeup's little details, making you pick between her outfit options again and again. She looked beautiful in everything. Obviously. But now, an hour later than when he said he'd show up, he's looking like a no-show.

"Alright, come here," you say, holding your arms out. Max looks way too anxious and he doesn't deserve that. Not a bit of it.

"Wait, let me just-" Max taps out another text - a "where r u? lol" - her bottom lip tucked between her teeth.

You see her hand start to shake, her knuckles whitening. He's left her on read again. The look of frustration and hurt that etches across her pretty face makes your heart ache. You've seen this scenario play out with every boyfriend she's had, but this one infuriates you most. He never seems to appreciate her, always making her feel small and ignored. It's chipped away at the self-esteem and growth that you've watched Max painstakingly earn.

Max finally sits down beside you with a heavy sigh, her shoulders slumped in defeat. “I don’t get it,” she murmurs, eyes fixed on her phone screen. “Why can’t he just reply? Even an excuse would be something. It’s not like I’m asking for much.”

It's like when her dad couldn't be bothered showing up for her graduation. Max was shattered. You hate seeing her ask for less and less when you know she deserves everything. And you resent the men who can't even be bothered giving her the bare minimum. That they don't even know what they have.

Your hand reaches out to grasp hers, stilling its shaking. She's warm. Soft. The touch sends a shiver down your spine. You're half hopeful that she realises you've always been here and half shit-scared that she'll finally figure out how much you care. So you avoid her eyes. You hate seeing her like this.

"I'll break his fingers next time. Give him a real reason not to text back," you say, hoping the bitterness sounds more like a joke.

She laughs. You'd do anything for that laugh.

But then she looks at you, eyes filled with unshed tears, and it breaks your heart. "Maybe I'm just too much," Max whispers. Her honest fear, not just in this relationship but in life. "Too needy, too intense. Maybe he's right to ignore me. I mean, that'd explain the others too."

But you don't let her joke this away. Your hand squeezes hers, a silent showcase that you're here. That you've never ran. That she's not too much, not for you, not for everyone else that loves her. "No." She doesn't know how awesome she is because of shitty guys like Arturo, or Harvey, or her fucking dickhead of a father. "You're fucking amazing, Max. You're passionate. You care so deeply. Everyone who is loved by you is so lucky." 

Max squeezes your hand, offering a small, grateful smile. “Thanks,” she says softly. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

For a blissful moment, you pretend those words mean more than they do. Pretend that she'll finally see you as more than a friend, that she finally gets it. You’ve always been there for her, a constant in the chaos of her relationships and self-doubt. When the moment passes, you swallow that bitter pill that Max doesn’t know how deeply you care. You hate every one of her boyfriends, not just because they’re not good enough for her, but because none of them see her the way you do. They don’t see her strength, her vulnerability, or the way her eyes light up when she talks about something she loves.

You take a deep breath, deciding to take a risk. “Max, you deserve better." Sincerity, for once, rather than a joke so you could more easily brush it off as platonic. "Like, you're incredible." You gulp. These next words, you'd normally hold them back but she needs to hear them. You can see her vulnerability in those big brown eyes of hers. "I hate seeing how he makes you doubt that."

Max looks at you, an unsure, fragile expression crossing her face. Like she's apprehensive to believe it. “Do you really think so?”

“I know so,” you reply, your voice steady. “And one day, you’ll see it too.”

In that moment, Max’s phone buzzes, and her eyes dart to it as a reflex. You see the flash of disappointment as she realises it’s not him. But then she looks back at you, smiles, and throws her phone on the bedside table.

"Yeah, fuck him. I don't need him to have fun." Max's arms go to wrap around you, head nuzzling into your chest. "Thank you."

Her fingers tangle in your hair, playing with the soft strands of it. She's in your arms just like you've always been desperate for her to be. It aches. But it's the best you've ever felt. A niggling worry tells you that she'd hate you for wanting more. For thinking about kissing her right now.

"You're welcome, Maxie," you say. Because this is enough. Being her friend could be enough no matter how desperately, how passionately you burn for her.

Already dressed up, Max drags you along on a day out.

Every smile makes your heart skip. You love how you could always cheer her up, love how much Max brightens up every room she's in. You two walk hand in hand to a nearby park, one of Max’s favourite spots. The sun is shining, and the air is fresh, and you hope it's the perfect pick-me-up to help her. Strolling along the winding paths, the best thing about loving your best friend is that you can talk about anything and everything. You make her laugh with your terrible impressions of people you both know. The sound of her laughter is like music to your ears. You try not to think about how none of those men could treat her like you would.

Maybe, just maybe, she’ll start to understand how much she means to you. And until then, you’ll keep being there for her, hoping that one day she’ll realise you’ve been the one all along. You know you'd never say a word though.