#i feel like i could add more but for now let just leave it that way | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

dandylovesturtles · 3 days ago

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oh yeah so Yes pretty overwhelmingly won the poll so you guys only have yourselves to blame for seeing this nonsense I will probably not do much more with lol

anyway I've been mentally calling it the Draxum's Kids AU or Step-brothers AU because I didn't come up with anything creative

high level premise is that, due to ~mystic shenanigans~, Draxum from the OU (post-movie) gets pulled through a portal to another dimension, about a year behind the OU dimension, where he kept the turtles and accomplished a lot of his human eradication goals but was also a terrible father. Draxum sees the writing on the wall that his AU self's foolish actions have led to an impending apocalypse and finds the AU's Mikey (who is only called Boxshell) to help him get back to the original dimension. But as soon as he meets back up with Boxshell his Dad Instincts kick in and he realizes he can't just leave "his" kids here to die, so he decides to kidnap all four of them back to the original dimension.

this is complicated a bit by all of them hating each other

under the cut is about 3000 words of Draxum getting abducted

Draxum would really appreciate it if they could make it six months without a potentially world ending threat.

This one seems particularly suspicious. Giant black swirling vortexes giving off massive mystic energy signatures don’t simply appear, not for no reason. The fact that Michelangelo had been the first to notice it, cocking his head to the side like a bloodhound hearing a rabbit, was not putting him at ease, either.

“Soooo,” says Leonardo, swords already drawn and held loose at his sides, “what is it, Draxy?”

That is not his name, but because the situation is serious, he answers anyway. “You expect me to know? I’ve never seen anything like that before.”

“Come on, you’re our mystic guru! So get with the guruing!”

Draxum just gives him the look that the kids are coming to call his “not mad, just disappointed” face. He doesn’t have any more answers than he did two seconds ago. On the plus side, it doesn’t seem like anything is coming out of the dark swirly vortex, nor is anything getting sucked in. It’s just hanging there, in the sky over the Hidden City, menacingly.

“Doesn’t it feel familiar?” asks Michelangelo. Unlike Leonardo, he still hasn’t drawn any weapon. He’s just watching it, curious.

“I don’t remember the Krang portal looking like that,” says Donatello. “We could see the Prison Dimension on the other side. That’s just… an indistinct vortex of doom.”

“Not like the Krang,” says Michelangelo, but he doesn’t offer any further guesses. He just watches it with big eyes.

“But we gotta do somethin’ about it, right?” asks Raphael. “We can’t just leave it up there.”

“Well, if it’s not hurting anyone,” says Leonardo slowly.

“Just because it is not doing anything in this instant does not mean it will stay that way,” says Draxum.

“Yeah, yeah.” Leonardo slices through the air, a blue and less chaotic looking portal opening up. “Let’s check it out, Dee. Get some energy readings and all that nerd jazz. The rest of you, stay here in case it’s dangerous.”

“Oh, but it’s fine if it’s me,” says Donatello, but he steps up to the portal anyway.

Draxum feels uneasy, because he doesn’t know what that thing is or what it will do, and because he doesn’t want the two of them going alone. “I’ll come with you,” he says, and when the kids give him a look, he quickly adds, “I may notice something that Donatello would miss.”

“I don’t miss things,” Donatello snaps back, but that’s factually untrue, so Draxum just grunts in response to it.

“Sure, goatman cometh,” says Leonardo airily. “Let’s just go!”

Just to be sure nothing bad will happen, Draxum steps through first. The twins follow him.

They’re on a rooftop now, just under the vortex. Draxum had been expecting… something, but there are no threats, no signs of anything amiss. It’s a bit windy, and the vortex is making an ominous buzzing noise, but that’s all.

“Can you tell anything from here?” asks Leonardo, looking between the two of them. Donatello has his goggles down and a holoscreen up, incomprehensible numbers scrolling by at a fast pace. For his part, it seems the same to Draxum here as it did across town.

Donatello’s readings slow, and he raises the goggles again.

“It’s… definitely massive, but I can’t tell much more than that. Though… I think Mikey was right. That it feels familiar.” He looks at his brother, something complicated in his expression. “Like we’ve seen something like this before.”

“I was afraid you’d say that,” says Leonardo, before turning his attention to Draxum. “How easy is it to make an interdimensional portal, anyway?”

Draxum snorts at this question. “For a pocket dimension, relatively simple. For an actual, separate world… Theoretically, it could be done, but it would take a massive amount of mystic energy and decades of experience. Especially if one does not have a mystical object to channel a portal through, like the key that was used for the Krang’s prison dimension.”

“But Mikey was able to do it,” Leonardo points out.

“Yes. And need I remind you it almost killed him.”

“You needn’t,” he snaps back. “I’m just saying… if it can be done, it really seems like someone’s trying it right now.” He still has his swords out, watching the vortex warily. “And what’re the odds that they’re coming here for a friendly visit?”

Draxum doesn’t argue there; he’s already treating whatever this is as hostile. Better to assume wrong and apologize later than to let down his guard and let one of his kids get hurt.

There’s the sound of footsteps behind them, and the three of them turn at once, startled. “Well, there’s Mikey,” Leonardo is already saying in a resigned sort of way, like he knew Michelangelo would join them before he gave the command.

“Sorry, Leo,” says Raphael, landing with heavier tread on the rooftop just behind Michelangelo. “He gave me the slip.”

“Guys, it’s fine!” Michelangelo argues, in that tone he uses when he feels like he’s being babied. “I’m telling you, whatever’s making that portal isn’t here to hurt us.”

“And you know this based on what evidence?” asks Donatello.

“It’s a feeling!”

“Ah yes, feelings, how quantifiable.”

“Well you don’t have any evidence it’s evil either, Donald!” Michelangelo retorts.

Draxum is about to step into the middle of this quarrel when Leonardo stops it for him.

“Guess we’re about to find out who’s right,” he says, eyes locked on something above them, and Draxum looks up just in time to see that there’s movement coming from the vortex now. “Dee, take Raph; Miguel, you’re with me.”

“Wait, guys, we should just-” Michelangelo tries again, but a shimmering blue portal under his feet stops him. Leonardo and Michelangelo reappear in the sky above, Leonardo using his portals to stay airborne while Michelangelo catches himself with his mystic powers. There’s the roar of a jet, and then Donnie is after them, his shimmering mystic tech carrying himself with Raphael dangling underneath.

And of course they’ve left him on the roof. Draxum sighs. Children.

He pops several vines on the roof and uses them to propel himself skyward, eyes searching for what has come through the portal, if that’s what it is. It’s difficult to see against the black coloration, but the boys seem to have gathered under a figure in a dark cloak, who emerges slowly from the middle of the vortex. It seems to cling to them like dark, black ink, the mystic energy drawing out behind them in long, gooey ropes.

Draxum knows he is still many meters away, but even still, he doesn’t think the figure is very large. It’s a surprise, given that the vortex itself is at least fifteen or more meters across, but the figure coming out is short and slight, not even as big as Michelangelo. Of course, that doesn’t mean much; plenty of yokai are small statured naturally, as are some humans. Even Lou Jitsu is small, now, but still mighty. He can’t let the size of the person put him off guard, especially when they have summoned such massive mystic energy.

“Hey!” cries out Michelangelo. “Can we talk to you!?”

The figure in the cloak seems to startle at being addressed. For a moment, they hang in the air, the ropey energy of the vortex growing thicker on their arms and legs. Almost like it’s trying to pull them back.

The figure seems to realize this, too, because they jerk forward and raise their arms in a panicked arc.

Fire comes out - dark flames with incandescent blue cores that Draxum knows are hotter than any normal flame. If the boys are struck, the damage will be severe. Thankfully, Michelangelo yelps and whirls aside before he can be burned.

“I don’t think they’re interested in talking!” calls Donatello.

“That’s alright,” yells Raphael, his ninpo lighting his body red, “because I’m interested in smashing!”

The midair fight begins in earnest now, the boys darting around the figure with their weapons drawn, even Michelangelo. The cloaked figure fights back with the flames, dark and so hot that as Draxum’s vines carry him closer, he can feel the heat coming off of them. Yet, despite the intensity of the attacks, Draxum notices that they are unwieldy and unpracticed, like the wielder has no real experience in fighting, and certainly not midair against so many opponents. Add to that, the strange, inklike properties of the still-spinning vortex seem to be actively trying to pull the figure back; each time they make progress, the moment their attention is drawn by one of the boys, they’re yanked back another few feet.

Draxum sprouts a few more vines off his main one, so that he can move more freely. Aerial combat has never been his forte, but he can make it work. So long as none of those desperate fire attacks burn through his vines and send him tumbling to the ground (he can only hope, in that event, that one of the twins notices him).

The cloaked figure is still attacking wildly, and the boys have to move fast to keep out of the way. It’s easier for Michelangelo and Donatello, who can stay airborne indefinitely; Leonardo, meanwhile, has to use his portals to catch himself and Raphael periodically, portalling them back to the sky or giving them a portal to ground to launch off of. This leaves them open to attack.

Draxum couldn’t have made it in time if he’d wanted to, but in the moment he isn’t thinking he has to.

One of the unfocused black flames strikes Raphael; his ninpo projection protects him from being harmed, but he still lets out a gasp of surprise as it burns rapidly through the ninpo itself, leaving him exposed. Donatello swoops in to catch him before he can fall, and all the boys hang back for a moment, stunned by this development.

“What was that!?” Leonardo calls out, portaling above Donatello and landing on his constructed battleshell (Donatello says, “Oof!” loudly, but doesn’t throw him off). “It just burned through Raph’s shield like it was tissue paper!”

“Augh… that felt… weird.” Raphael is rubbing at his temple with his fingers. “Raph did not like that.”

“Alright, clearly this guy is dangerous.” Leonardo is tense, eyes focused as he watches the cloaked figure yank free of the stringy ropes of magic from the vortex, coming closer. “But see how the portal’s trying to pull them back in? We just gotta get them close enough and send ‘em back where they came from.”

He glances over at Michelangelo. Draxum looks, too. The boy’s brow is creased, like he isn’t happy with this outcome, but his eyes are focused on Raphael.

“...Yeah,” he says finally, and gives his nunchucks a swing. They light up with his orange ninpo, the bright fire a stark contrast to their enemy’s dark flames. “Let’s send ‘em back!”

The boys spring back into action, and Draxum follows suit, his vines carrying him up, closer to the vortex. Now he can feel more of the thing’s power directly, a great gusting wind that pulls rather than pushes. He hangs back from the direct fighting and instead watches the boys closely, should he need to intervene the way he hadn’t for Raphael. If the fire can eat through their ninpo, then any of them being struck would be disastrous - especially if one of the others could not catch them in time.

The kids are succeeding in their gambit to push the figure back towards the vortex, but that means they are also increasingly putting themselves in range of its dangerous reach. The ropey strands of dark mystic energy reach out like hungry tendrils, latching onto scales before being cut or shaken off. Leonardo has all but abandoned the fight against the figure and instead puts his efforts into slicing the strands apart any time they touch one of his brothers, either directly with his katana or with a well placed portal. He leaves the strands that attach themselves to the mysterious person, and they wrap more firmly around the legs, arms, and neck of the one in the cloak.

And that’s when they finally speak.

“No!” they cry out, in a voice unmistakably juvenile. “No, please! I just want to escape - don’t make me go back!”

Michelangelo stops short, bobbing uncertainly only a few meters from the screaming figure (a boy, Draxum thinks, but cannot be sure). “Guys,” he says hesitantly, lowering his weapons. “I really think we should-”

Whatever he was about to say is interrupted by a burst of flames from the cloaked boy’s hands, spiraling directly towards him.

“MIKEY!” shout several voices at once; Draxum only realizes a beat later that one of them is his. He’s the closest, and he moves fast, putting himself and a wall of vines between the flames and his son.

The flames make such short work of the vines, it’s almost comical. Draxum watches as the fire races down the towering stalk he’s made, eating them away and leaving nothing behind, not even ashes. The vine Draxum was standing on is, of course, completely obliterated, and he feels the swoop in his stomach as gravity starts its relentless pull.

“Dad!” he hears Michelangelo call out. The boy reaches a hand toward them, and in his panic Draxum reaches back. They are only a few meters from each other, and then less and then less, fingers almost touching-

But it is something else that grabs him first.

The vortex’s dark energy feels disgusting and slimy where it touches Draxum’s fur, like a leech pulled from some noxious bog. Its tug is ferociously strong, and he realizes that if Leonardo had not been quick, if the magic had wrapped around any of his brothers’ limbs the way it’s wrapped around Draxum’s arm, disentangling them would have taken massive effort. As it’s going to take to free him now.

There’s a yank, and he’s ripped away from Michelangelo and towards the vortex.

“No!” screeches the cloaked boy, and sputtering flames spill out around him, forcing the turtles back before they can move in to rescue him. “No! Get away! Leave me alone!”

“Gladly!” Draxum shouts back, ripping and yanking to try and free his arm. “Just close this foolish portal and go back where you came from!”

“I can’t!” the boy screams, and he sounds so wretched, Draxum almost feels some sympathy for him. “I can’t! I can’t!”

“You must!” Draxum argues, because he can tell. The energy has wrapped too securely around the cloaked boy now; there will be no freeing him. The portal he made is impressive, especially as young as he sounds, but it is not complete. He could not be severed from it, even if they tried to help. In fact, if they fully pulled him from the vortex, it would likely kill the child.

No; he must go back. But… is there still time for Draxum?

“Barry!” he hears the boys call out. They try to get close, but another burst of searing heat from the panicked boy in the vortex keeps them from advancing. More of the stringy ropes of magic are wrapping around Draxum now, on his arms, his torso, his legs. His neck. They yank him back, hard, and he gasps as the air leaves his lungs. The mystic energy slithers over him like a living creature, wrapping him up more and more securely in its snare.

It seems… there is not.

“NO!” screams the cloaked boy, one last panicked, desperate cry, but then his voice is abruptly silenced. There’s a roaring noise, incomprehensibly loud, and Draxum faintly wonders if this is how it sounds when a star collapses in on itself.

The last thing he sees as the portal closes around him is Michelangelo’s face, eyes wide and afraid, mouth open in a shout, hand outstretched as far as it can go.

And then all is dark.

…

When Draxum wakes, he’s laying on the ground in an alley in the Hidden City.

He feels a flash of something markedly unpleasant when he realizes he’s alone: sadness, betrayal, perhaps even, Titan forbid, loneliness. It seems the boys have left him to his fate and gone home.

Then he remembers the portal, and Donatello and Michelangelo’s guess that it was interdimensional. It’s likely the boys don’t know where he is. It’s possible he’s not even in the same time.

Or the same world at all.

Disturbing as that thought is, the part of the Hidden City he can see from his vantage point seems familiar enough. He recognizes this as a part of the old downtown, not far from where he and the kids had been fighting the cloaked boy. Even if this isn’t his time, at least he should still be able to navigate - that makes things easier.

He gets to his feet, shaking the soreness out of his limbs. He hears something pop, and is suddenly immensely glad the boys aren’t here after all. He’d rather not endure another round of teasing for being “old”.

The Hidden City he travels through seems largely the same as the one he left, to a degree that he starts to wonder if it wasn’t an interdimensional portal after all. If it was, the dimension he’s in now seems to have only slight variations.

Or that’s what he thinks, until he makes it to the nearest portal back to New York City.

There’s a checkpoint set up in front of it, one that didn’t exist here before. There are guards standing sentinel, ushering through a line of yokai and occasionally asking questions. They don’t seem hostile to the yokai, but it does seem like precautions need to be taken for… some reason.

More startling to Draxum are the crests that adorn banners hung around the checkpoint, matching emblems blazed on the uniforms of the officers.

His family’s crest.

It seems this dimension is quite different after all.

#dandy fanfiction #step-brothers au

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artsninspo · 3 days ago

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003 | Richmond Inc.

「 ✦ full library & archive ✦ 」

「 ✦ aaron pierre & characters library ✦ 」

⇚ 002

♠ summary: The forced proximity of a Swiss work trip makes Lorence's attempts at evading Mr. Richmond more challenging. Their already tense dynamic becomes all the more challenging when she finds out when he thinks of her terms and requests.

♠ pairing: Terry Richmond (Aaron Pierre - Rebel Ridge) X Lorence Cole (Black Fem OC)

♠ word-count: ~2.7K

⌖ - St. Moritz, Switzerland

I check my watch noting my pulse is exactly where I need it to be. I can feel the blood rushing through my limbs as I dismount from my inversion looking at brave skiers taking on the slopes. I remove my mouth tape and take a deep breath. An integral of this position is being remarkable while not standing out too much physically. I need endurance and strength without looking like I train for a few hours a day in the gym. Morning yoga is my personal maintenance. I look out ahead and breathe deeply while admiring the serenity of the Swiss Alps. I could get used to this. I think to myself revelling in the privilege of the experience. Continuing my deep breathing I click off the noise cancellation on my headphones allowing the world back in and hear running. Frowning, I turn and find the Boss on the treadmill running with a large barbell over his shoulders evenly weighted with large black disks on either side. What the hell!? I think looking away before stealing a glance at him barrelling through his run in the mirror. He moves effortlessly with the deathtrap hitched on his shoulders like he’s carrying five pound dumbbells and not over a hundred pounds while running moderately. Of his own free will!

Maniac, I mutter snapping out of my thoughts. I manage to gather my things quickly, tossing them into my bag before disinfecting the mat I used. The cadence of his steps changes as he slows maintaining a slower speed and I wonder how he hast stopped yet. This tortuous exercise would have already murdered me. I feel self conscious in an instant when I remember my hair is in heat less rollers under a satin scarf and curse myself for leaving my room in this presentation. Mr. Richmond provides a notable monthly stipend towards the maintenance and upkeep of his employees. My current appearance is a huge faux pas. Appearance is everything. Not in a homogenous and boring kind of way, but in an eclectic way we've got something for everyone, kind of way. I hardly look my part right now, I have never been in the presence of the boss without a face on. A bare face isn't something I’d usually be self-conscious about but around Mr. Perfect; I am.

The running stops and I’ve missed my window to leave without an interaction. He slows to a stop before putting down the weight. He’s barely sweating and not nearly exasperated enough to be fully human.

“Good morning” he calls over to me, his baritone reverberating through the empty gym.

“Good morning” I respond hoping he hasn’t put his contacts in since he isn’t wearing glasses but it’s a foolhardy wish for a man as prepared as him. My phone rings and I smile when I see my father has saved me from the beast.

“Hey Daddy” I smile, picking up.

“Hi my love, I was just heading to bed I hoped you’d be up on time” Dad says.

“I am, thanks. I just finished yoga” I explain using the opportunity to get my bag on and slip out from under the Bosses nose.

“What’s it like?” Dad asks and I wish he could see it for himself.

“Cold and gorgeous I’ll take lots of pictures when I get a chance.” I smile.

“Remember to take some time to see it, really see it and bring home fondue and chocolate for your mother and I” he adds.

“Chocolate, cheese and wine - got it. Mom won’t let me forget it. I’ll be through with her list” I tell him.

“Atta girl, well I’ll let you get ready. Call me if you need anything” daddy says as I pass the Boss.

“I will, thanks dad - see you soon” I tell him. He sends a kiss through the phone and I do the same making it out of the gym without having to make small talk with Mr. Richmond. Joel’s been on assignment and I haven’t heard a thing about my conditions. I move through the building heading back to my room to find the bed maid. I have a shower and spend more time than I should watching people ski down the mountain while doing my make up for the day. I spray perfume and then get dressed before packing a bag in case of any surprises. When I leave, people have already started breakfast. A chef is at work and names set out on serving cloches. I find mine and see a perfect breakfast respecting my dietary restrictions.

“Thank you chef” I smile, thanking the chef and he nods smiling back. I find a seat at the table in my own world as everyone partakes in conversation. I’m not a morning person and if I want my breakfast to settle I can’t be aggravated or anxious. The room is buzzing with good energy overall, everyone is excited to be in attendance. I’m anxious. Although I have no responsibilities this go round I like being in a conference room surrounded by computers being fed intel and finding a way through as opposed to being on the ground. We leave in groups, staggering our arrival times. Joel appears just as I’m about to get into my black truck. He smiles getting in with me.

“How are you?” You ask, getting on your seatbelt.

“This’ll take some adjusting to the timezone change & climate. I just finished a job in Australia - it’s summer there” he smiles.

“You know flying so much isn’t good for you.” I tell him.

“I know, I’m being rotated out for the next six months unless it’s eminent” Joel responds.

It’s great news. “I bet your kids will be happy”

“Not my wife though,” he mutters.

“I’m sure living with a hyper-vigilant, ex special forces nut isn’t easy” I tease and he chuckles.

“You’re supposed to be on my side” Joel remarks.

I give him a curt look. “I am on your side. You can’t do this forever. All your awards and accolades mean nothing without your family ensuring they’re celebrated and live on” I remind him.

Joel beams bright, “I forgot how much I missed you” he laughs, shaking his head dismissively at my sentimentality. I snap a few pictures of the mountains in genuine awe of their magnitude.

“This is the job, seeing the best the world has to offer” Joel says beside me.

“I know” I nod.

“The Boss didn’t agree,” Joel says, drawing my attention back to him. “Actually, he was pissed,” Joel says, shocking me. I give him a moment to tell me it's all a joke and when he doesnt my heart starts to race.

“Great” I sigh sarcastically.

“Offered you a $850k and an increased therapy stipend. You have until the end of the week to decide if the response is no, HR will terminate your employment.” Joel says looking guilty. Now, I’m really in shark infested waters.

“Joel!” I snap looking him over.

“Joel what, it’s practically a million dollars!” he shouts like he isn’t the one who secured my spot on the Bosses shit list.

“To be ripped into and harassed. You know he’s gonna make every penny worth his while” I snap.

“You run things by me and I’ll do my best to catch any infractions. He really isn’t as bad as you think.” Joel says and I sigh near tears. I’m going to be out of a job. I think to myself with closed eyes. Maybe if I can manage it for a year then I can quit a million dollars richer? Maybe I can train for the verbal berating? My thoughts run wild and I take deep breaths.

“I’m sorry” Joel says finally. I open my eyes before cutting them over to him. “I’ll be home so I’ll have all the time in the world to be on call” he reminds.

“Whatever” I snap folding my arms. “I’m still not convinced,” I confess.

“It’s more money than the average person makes in their lifetime in a year. Think of all the good you can do with it. Think of all the potential investors and philanthropists you can meet?” Joel starts and his training is showing. He’s appealing to the things I value most.

The car stops and he gets the door. I put my game face on exiting behind him. We blend in with the understated upper echelon. In the field, what Richmond inc. is second to none, I spot my colleagues discreetly blending in amongst the crowd. Unlike the serious and burly security guards that are easy targets we blend in. Offering safety in numbers as well as increased observation. For the more curious attendees at these kinds of things our menial titles make us all the more visible. Consultants and special advisors are of little importance in most cases as they are far from where the money resides.

Joel and I separate as he schmoozes. His cover is that he’s an elite protection dog breeder. As a senior agent and not executive I don’t have that kind of story but no one pries when I tell them I’m his assistant. I’m a woman so it’s believable. I look the part and a few of them look at me like I’m a meal. It’s nothing I’m not used to in a sea of powerful men. They flirt and I giggle but that’s all it’ll ever be. I know better and this group works hard and plays harder. Not to kink shame but the shit they’re into turns my stomach. There are few novelties when you have as much money as they do. I tread lightly and make my rounds schmoozing and farming potential clients away from other security firms who are too busy eye fucking me to realize I may be why they’re out a job. When the keynote begins the rotunda leans out. The centre’s workers have their way with the decadent charcuterie boards and excess wine while myself and a few of my colleagues file out into our waiting cars.

They go skiing once we get back but I get out my notebook weighing my options with Mr Richmond’s counter offer heavy on my mind. The blank page stares back at me as I make the pros and cons list. I decide to try my hand at positivity first. The pay, the travel, the potential to meet incredible people. I pause from writing and look up at the ceiling to think. The amenities, the accommodations, the new experiences. I continue with my list until I begin to draw blanks. Are they really even pros when I currently make more than I need not by a longshot and can afford to put myself in the position to enjoy everything listed? I groan, tearing the page and tossing it into the modern black stoned fireplace. I know the cons intimately. Chronic stress from existing under a microscope, anxiety that would snowball into a skewed self-perception about my value and what I deserve. Verbal tirades that would also be intimidating and dramatic because of how big the brute is. Turning my head I watch the paper burn and try to find alternatives. Perhaps exposure therapy? Only being tougher and having thicker skin is not something I aspire to at this time in my life. I’ve faced about fear to tack on another one for the sake of greed and prestige.

Disappointed greenish blue-grey eyes find me in my thoughts where they are unwelcome. It would be easier if he wasn't so damn handsome, then everyone would hate him and we wouldn't have to pretend he’s this pleasant person to be around. Maybe then, he’d be nicer too - or just normal instead of so abrasive.

What if I just ignore what Joel told me and continue in my current position? But that would only work until the Bosses patience runs out. All I’d need to do is stand my ground. I have half a decade of nearly perfect reviews to make being fired an unjust and unlawful termination. Unfortunately, being in a litigious battle with Mr. Richmond is a terrifying idea.

I decide to stop worrying and make the most of the present. I put on my base layer before my thermals and a snowsuit for my solo adventure up and down the slopes. I make sure I have everything before heading out of my room with a slightly awkward waddle. Smiling, I take a photo for my girls back home. My hair is braided and put away under a fleece hat to keep it from freezing. The elevator dings and I walk in before looking up. Big mistake. Just the man I want to avoid is the one standing in there with me.

“Lobby?” he asks and I nod swallowing my smile. I see the lobby button is already illuminated.

“Sir” I force a polite smile.

“Miss Cole” he nods back. It’s the first time I’ve regretted our penthouse accommodations. It's a long way down.

“Is Mr. Jameson back yet?” The Boss asks, referring to Joel.

“I believe he’s still at the convention,” I respond.

“Have you two had a chance to speak yet?” Mr. Richmond pries.

“About?” I ask as the elevator doors reopen.

“Well hello handsome” she says in full winter gear. Her husband shakes his head completely ignoring his wifes antics. Well, I assume he’s her husband. “Ooo wee, Earl don’t you think one of the girls would love him” she says, elbowing her husband who is clearly ready to be outside. But Earl chuffs committed to not looking up at Mr. Richmond and it amuses me - Earl and I are on the same page.

“Cheryl quit” he says instead with a thick southern american accent.

I stifle a giggle and he looks up at me with an annoyed smirk. He makes a talking gesture with his hand before pointing to his wife, who is still admiring Mr. Richmond. He motions that his Wife's talking too much like a kid sneakingly mocking their teacher in class.

“Forty five years and she’s always got new material” he whispers, reminding me of my own parents. THeir irritation with each other is always second to their love.

“I bet that keeps things interesting” I respond and his eyes light.

“You bet,” he laughs, highly amused.

“Now Earl, nothing she says could be that funny” she chides him as the elevator sounds and the doors open. Earl throws his hands up in defeat heading out first and Cheyl gives Mr. Richmond a wave. I use the confusion to my advantage putting on my gloves and heading to the chalet where snowboards can be rented. The Boss will have to schedule a meeting with me where I can be prepared. This ordeal is hardly an ad hoc conversation. I live below my means and take care of my people so the money doesn’t seduce me. I like nice things but I have more of them than I have time for right now. The money I have been squirrelling away was for travel with my family. My priority is to smell the roses with the people I love.

I’m modest with my ascend up the slopes and do a moderate slope instead of going all the way up the mountain. I snowboard down a few times before taking my daddy’s advice. I FaceTime him while enjoying swiss fondue. Momma makes sure I write down everything for her gastronomy blog and I take lots of photos. I return to the hotel with a box of goodies and the doorman rushes to help me with it. The common area has a sprinkle of people. We talk about the convention and the weather before turning in.

My nightly routine is still in place. Before winding down completely I do a final once over of my emails and make sure all is going well with my team while I am away. I’m about to close out of my emails when one comes in from the Boss. I swallow hard looking at the encrypted email and slam my laptop shut. I try decompressing by brushing my team only to check my work phone and see I have a 9:00 a.m meeting with the man himself tomorrow morning.

FUCK!

authors note: thanks for reading! I really hope you enjoyed this part, let me know what your favorite part was in the comments. Don't forget to like, comment, reblog and vote on the polls 🖤

engage with the game & poll here

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tags: @meadows5 @wnbweasley @becauseimher @ariiaeltheedonn @woahthatshitfat @miniaturehideoutmentality @kokobells @ffenthusiastt @sowhatariyana @1xtral1983 @theegoddessofmelanin @fictionalreads @roxytheimmortal @fairytale07 @rampsen @rosey1981 @lauraaan182 @lynaye1993 @g1g1l @writingsbytee @different-fandomz @rose-bliss @loveschrisbrown20 @cherrybeedotcom @ariiaellbtheedonn @motheroffae @prettylilteine @thabiddie23

#aaron pierre x black reader #aaron pierre imagine #aaron pierre fanfic #aaron pierre #aaron fics #terry richmond x you #terry richmond x black oc #terry richmond imagine #terry richmond #terry richmond x black reader #rebel ridge fanfiction #rebel ridge #terry richmond x black female reader

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dsudis · 17 hours ago

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Grey and Green

Written for @fluffbruary (for the 2/4 prompts: grey and green) although it wound up being depressed retired!Dream so whether it counts as fluff may depend on how you feel about depression and retrospective suicidal ideation and so forth.

Warnings for depression and retrospective suicidal ideation! And February!

February, Dream feels, is a strong argument in favor of the void. If he were dead right now, he would not have to cope with February. He could have been dead! And instead here he is. Alive. Human. In February.

Hob had made some compelling and ultimately persuasive arguments in favor of December and early January. Dream had wound up enjoying those, and coped through the rest of January on that momentum. But now it is February. The days continue to lengthen and yet it is still cold, still grey, still utterly dreary.

"Sun's actually shining, just this minute," Hob says. "If you're willing to climb out of bed and come look."

"I am not," Dream says, as icily as possible while curling himself under the faux-fur heated blanket and also keeping his feet tucked under Hob's thigh. "Willing. And what good is the sun, anyway, if it is still so cold and dead everywhere."

"Mm," Hob says, but it is in a sympathetic register, not amused at all for once, and he adds in a deliciously warm hand wrapped around Dream's ankle. "You've got me there, I s'pose. But hey, give it a few more weeks and it'll be March."

"That is no argument at all," Dream informs him, feeling wretchedly close to actual tears and too exhausted to weep.

It is so cold, and he is so tired of being cold, so tired of trying to believe that spring will come, that new life will come, that he will ever feel better than he does right now. He knows that in December he luxuriated in this bed, in all the things that made it cozy and comfortable, but by now it feels like a life raft, like the only place he can survive. He is resigned to this limited horizon; he tries not to think beyond it.

He lets Hob change the sheets and tuck him in again when he insists, and goes back to sleep. A few weeks; then it will be March. It is no argument, but it is a promise.

He clings to it, whenever he is forced by the vagaries of his body to be awake.

One day—two days after that conversation? Three?—Hob waylays him between the toilet and the bed and says, "Come look, I need to show you something."

His arm is already around Dream as he says it, guiding him to the bedroom door, and it would be more work to argue and resist than to go along. Dream goes where Hob takes him.

The living room has been rearranged; the television is nowhere in sight and there are narrow tables in front of the windows and between them. The tables are covered in trays, and the trays are full of little cups—some paper drinking cups, some the individual hollows from egg cartons, some seemingly shaped of wet paper left to dry.

Each one holds a few spoonfuls of dark soil.

One of them—just one—holds a tiny sprig of green. The two leaves are each smaller than Dream's smallest fingernail, but round and perfect and straining toward the watery February sunlight.

"What," Dream says, and only realizes as he speaks that he is bending over to peer at it, his nose nearly in the cup. He bends toward it as instinctively as the plant reaches for the light. He can smell the dirt, this close, the warm wet promise of it. Life, all fresh and new.

"Cucumber, I think," Hob says, curling around him as he bends. "Or else some kind of melon. We'll sort it out by the time they're ready to plant in the ground—I've got an allotment this year, been ages since I could plant a proper garden. Figured I'd do it right, start the seeds early."

Dream turns his head, narrowing his eyes to squint at Hob. "This early?"

"Mm," Hob says, this time with a cheerful little twist to his lips. "Near enough. But anyway, it's working. They're growing. That's what the sun is good for, even in February."

Dream looks down at the little cups again, so many of them still just dark dirt. "Are they... the others..."

"Just taking a bit more time," Hob said, giving Dream a squeeze about the shoulders. "This one's a bit of a prodigy, so I thought I'd show you."

Dream studies it again, finding himself once more spellbound at the fresh new greenness of it, and then, looking at the waiting dark dirt of the other cups, he spies the tiniest fleck of that same bright green, just beginning to show through the soil. "Hob! Look, look—"

Hob peers down at it and exhales a warm, pleased breath. "There, you see? Soon enough it will be more of them, more and more every day."

Dream nods and begins to examine each cup carefully; by the time he finds a third, Hob has gone off and returned, bringing a chair with him, and Dream's faux fur heated blanket. Dream accepts the chair, perching on it so that he can continue examining the cups, but he hardly needs the blanket.

The sun is shining on him, as well as the seedlings. For now he is warm enough.

[This fic is also on Ao3!]

#fic #dreamling #the sandman #fluffbruary #fluff #uhhh sort of #dream is pretty depressed #hurt/comfort #february

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511rkive · 3 days ago

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Thinking about how scrumptious Rafe looked when he was tied up...

am I insane... maybe... more under the cut!

"What're you gonna' do? throw that shit into my mouth like a fuckin' seal?" He spits, to which she almost bursts out with laughter. But she doesn't.

Holding the tray of food out to him with a cocked brow her lips part "Stop being a dick. You're either gonna' die of starvation, or drown when I throw you overboard—"

"Fuck you—" He lunges forward, wincing as the restraints at his wrists dig into the already bruised flesh. He pulls back, shoulders slumping as he curses aloud. She drops the tray to the floor, the carefully prepped sandwich and cut up fruit (courtesy of Sarah and Cleo) lay scattered all over the scratched metal.

She for one, had been enjoying this. For someone as renowned for their more intimidating qualities such as Rafe, seeing him like this —restrained and powerless— was oddly satisfying.

"Oops, did I tie those too tight?." She can't help but chuckle at him as his brows furrow, a classic indication of the anger bubbling beneath his skin.

"Just fuckin' feed me alright? I'm tired of the shit you Pogues are putting me through—"

“I mean… you did sort of beg to come along..." she began, lifting the sandwich to his lips before he could even manage a remark. He chews quickly, furiously.

His eyes meet hers.

He swallows and his lips part.

"I'm trynna' help you all— and I wanna’ make up with my sister!" He groans, head falling back against the wall as his eyes squeeze shut.

His head perks up at the sound of the tray sliding across the floor, the irritating screech causing his eyes to flicker open.

"Would you stop that—" He straightens in his spot on the cabin floor, stiffening when his face comes close to hers.

"Hold still would you? You've got mayo all over your stupid mouth." She mutters, raising a hand to smooth over the corner of his lip with her thumb.

"What?" She questions as she pulls back from him, swiping the smidge of mayo onto the corner of his food tray before sliding a hand under it to pick it up as she headed to stand at the lack of response.

"No— wait." His voice erupts. She glances down at him, head tilted to the side as she awaited his response.

"I— would you— fuck. Nevermind." He shakes his head, shoulders slumping once again.

"Would I what?" She stares down at him. "What is it?" She adds, fingers thrumming over the edge of the metal tray.

"Nothing. Just go." He lets out, eyes averting to the floor before him. Her brow cocks up as if sensing the hesitance in his tone.

"Just go what?—" She began, her head tilts again, expectant eyes meeting his reddened, sleep deprived ones.

"Look— I'm not gonna'—" His eyes roll before he begins to argue back. She steps forward, eager to hear him plead.

"What, Rafe?"

Fuck. The way his name rolled off your tongue gave him chills. He could almost feel the sensation of his lips tingling at the thought of your thumb swiping across them.

You seemed to have unlocked something within him. You knew something in the air had changed, you saw the slight tinge of red dancing on the apples of his cheeks, the twitch of his lips—

And you loved it. Every single bit of it.

You both fall into a short silence.

With your eyes burning into his scalp, Rafe is left with no other choice. To his utmost distaste, he cranes his head upward, eyes meeting yours.

"Please. Leave." He manages. There it is.

The shifting in his seat, thos beady eyes avoiding yours— oh this man was needy.

"Now that's better."

With the faintest of smirks splayed across your lips, you clutch the tray to your side. Sending him one final glance before shutting the door.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

It was dreadfully late.

Kiara had insisted you do your rounds of the ship "right fucking now" since you'd missed out on multiple of your turns.

For being out at sea it was still tremendously hot, even at night. The air was thick and moisture stuck to your skin like glue to paper. You turn the corner at the end of the hall and something causes your ear to perk.

No, it can't be.

Your pace slows as you practically tiptoe closer and closer to the source of the sound.

oh?

Rafe had been shifting in his seat, knuckles whitening as his hands gripped the pipe behind him. Sweat beads raced down his forehead and cheeks as his hips bucked forward and back. A breathy moan rang out from his slicked lips, the sound swallowed by the screams of steam and waves crashing.

oh.

The fact that you'd humiliated and possibly sexually frustrated Rafe had completely slipped your mind.

Until now, when you'd been sneaking glances into the boiler room to watch him grind on air.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

"If you wanted to get off, you coulda' asked me." Your voice broke out.

Rafe scrambles, eyes snapping open.

"F-fuck— help me." He stammers, restraints behind him clinking and clanking.

“Last time I checked, if you wanted help from someone— you'd use your manners.“ the door to the boiler room screeched as she pulled it slightly ajar.

“Please— please. Help me.” He calls out, heart racing at the aight of her frame halfway through the door.

She slips back inside, smirk evident.

#rafe cameron x reader #rafe x reader #outer banks #rafe obx #rafe outer banks #drew starkey #drew x reader #rafe cameron #rafe smut #rafe cameron smut

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bluebirdlester · 3 days ago

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some of the potential in this

its like the phan twt videos. we can (in a filtered nonthreatening way) let them in on our goofs and japes that extend beyond a single post easy to show in a video. i wish this post was real rn so we could broadcast WT MD IF to all of phanniedom and find who did this

you know how we love their react videos cause its such a wonderful parasocial watching videos with my besties feel. dnp react to phannies react. we can do more layers

segment called "what is the weirdest place you have watched a dan and phil video"

all the little indirect ways they have impacted us that we wouldnt necessarily comment. both heartwarming and cringe. my first ever boy haircut where i brought in a pinof screenshot and got a Karen. the specific mutual follows ive carried across MULTIPLE ACCOUNTS AND PLATFORMS from when i was first in the phandom TEN YEARS AGO. the domino chain that led to me getting an award in high school for the best student from all the teachers in the english department based, humiliatingly, on the phanfic i didnt even bother to change names before submitting for assignments and at least one passionate essay defense of rpf.

get specific! about the themes and concepts of this current era!

i do think it would be kinda funny to watch someone squirm as dnp grill them like "how many words of phanfic DID you write". questions like that: not specific enough to be weird but pointed enough to tell them exactly what kind of parasocial demon theyre speaking to today

i'm generally fascinated by how attention online can feel like a single sentient creature. anyone who's ever been dogpiled knows this, for one example. when you're facing a wall of Commentary on something you've done, it's impossible to pull out just one person without really making a specific effort to do that. it's just the wall of opinions, and the Vibe of that wall. maybe it could be interesting to pull individual voices out of a crowd, this monolith that is "phannies" and the stereotypes that have grown up around us and examine them closer.

something about now that we're old, we understand them better. it's something, to be 24 and look at 2012 dan and be like oh. you're 21. that explains literally everything. when i was 12 back then, i could not have possibly gotten it but think i get it better now.

the playing field is more equal than its ever been, possibly? not fully equal & never will be obv but one would hope all of the following: we are more grown up/emotionally mature/willing to listen when they express boundaries, they are more stable careerwise and less scared of us leaving or turning on them or w/e (based on some comments in the suit podcast) and also they are no longer closeted

this is a persistent theme/unresolved trauma for me personally but i would wanna talk to them about what it was like to be the point of obsession for specifically an audience of overwhelmingly teen girls (at their peak. many of us are no longer girls etc), when "anything that teen girls like" is such a societally derided category. i got a lot of weird misogyny directed at me for talking about how much i loved watching dan and phil. how did they experience that? i think they must have in some ways, because misogyny and homophobia are so deeply entwined.

oogh this turned into projection city fast but feel free to add your own. what would you do if you were interviewed by dnp

i think the next step in the dnp mutual parasocial relationship journey should be them interviewing US

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nownahc · 3 days ago

Note

i absolutely love the prompt idea! i might not make it easy on you~ prompts 1, 3, and 83 with hyunjin sound like they could be interesting <3

just once | hwang hyujin

hyunjin x reader

main masterlist

prompts list send in an ask to request

▶• ılıılıılılıılıılı.

notes. been in my feels lately so this might be a reflection of what's going on in my mind

warnings. angst, talk of serious emotionnal stuff

prompts. “Do you want me to leave?”/“I’m not jealous.”/“Just once.”

Never in his life, Hyunjin would have thought he’d witness such despair in someone. Let alone, when that person happens to be you. He can’t seem to find the words, nor the strength to move as he sits in front of you, watching helplessly as you sob in the sleeves of your sweater. Your bedroom, so familiar, yet foreign now that your laughter doesn’t echo between the walls, feels cold, devoided of any of the warmth he’s accustomed to. “I just… I don��t get it, everyone around me seems so in tune with everything, with their life, their family, their friends, their… love life, while I’m stuck here, watching me, as if I’m outside of my body, like a spectator of my own life, I…” It’s the first words you uttered since he arrived here. All you’ve been doing is sob and cry silently in the fabric of your sweater. When you called, he had no idea what caused you to feel this down, was it someone, or something, he had no clue. All he knew, is that he had to sprint to you, the sole idea of leaving you alone in such a vulnerable state eating at his consciousness.

“I’m not jealous, it’s envy more than anything, admiration even and,” she can’t help but hiccup letting her words hang in the air, until she can speak her mind again, “I want to be like them, to know what I’m doing, to be happy, truly happy, to love and be loved.”

He wants to scream at her that no one has anything figured out, that everyone is pretending, and everyone has probably cried and begged like she’s doing right now. He wants to scream that, he can give her at least one of those things she’s asking for. Love. He can love her, and let her love him. That’s all he ever wanted, all he ever wished for.

“Do you want me to leave, or do you want comfort?”, his voice is soft, barely above a whisper, as if he was scared of his own words.

Finally, her gaze flickers to him, a small sad smile tugging at her lips. “Stay…”, she wants to add that there’s no need for comfort, for his sole presence already means a lot to her. The fact that he's there, watching her drown in her own sorrow is a sign that someone cares, someone sees the ugliness of her thoughts yet, he’s still willing to stay.

Hyunjin shifts on the floor, trying to conjure the perfect words for her, the perfect words that would make her magically see all the goodness this world has to offer, that at some point, she’ll realize that happiness is different from all people, that maybe she simply hasn’t found hers.

“Y/n, I can’t miraculously make you happy, or make you see that people care and love you, but I can help. I can stay with you and guide you through it, so please, give me this chance. Just once, let me help you find yourself.”

The words hang in the air, both Hyunjin and you processing the weight of them. Hyunjin wants to say more, he wants to say that he’d repeat the process of healing with her a million times if needed, in every universe, in every life time if needed.

“Help me Hyunjin…” Her answer surprised him, for a second he thinks he imagined it for how vulnerable and quiet it sounded. Still, she said it, she allowed him to guide her, to show her, to help her through this, and he’s more than happy to help the one person he doesn’t want to see this desperate ever again.

#stray kids x #stray kids x reader #stray kids #skz x #skz x reader #skz #hyunjin #hyunjin x reader #hyunjin x

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faghubby · 3 days ago

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Going out again

"Ally. Why can't we just go to dinner together?" I whined

"Don't start, I am in a good mood. You wanted me to find a lover and now all you do is bitch like a little girl whenever I go to meet him" Ally shot back as she sat at her vanity finishing her make up. She stood up.

"I know what it is, you're bored home all alone. Well why don't we fix that" she told me grabbing my arm she led me down the hall.

"See this closet, it's a mess. Everyone just throws stuff in there they don't want to deal with" She then led me to the kitchen. "And the pantry, stuff gets thrown in here no organization" she told me. "Why don't you spend your free time taking care of that rather then pitching about me getting laid" she told me. I lowered my head in defeat.

"Don't cry about it" Ally said lifting my chin. "You can wear my pantyhose while you do it" she smiled. She knew I loved to wear her pantyhose they felt so smooth and sexy on my legs. Ally left to meet her lover. I knew nothing about him. She never shared details. When I had mentioned her cuckoldingMr, i thought it would boost are sex life add spice. Instead it killed it. She was getting what she needed from someone else. She wouldn't talk about it. But also stopped having sex with me at all. She had known about the pantyhose fetish since before we where married. No my sex life was me sitting home wondering what she was doing and with who as I masterbated.

Maybe this was a test if I did a good job cleaning everything up she would have sex with me. So I put on a pair of her pantyhose and nothing else and tackled the closet first. I spent hours on the closet and the pantry. I wasn't even done when Ally returned home.

"Look at you a busy little sissy" she smiled. "Did you have fun?" She giggled my dick hard in the pantyhose. She stepped close.

"It's been months hasn't it?" She asked as she ran her hand over my hardon. "You did really well so how about I let you ask some questions" she said.

"How big is he?" I asked without thinking.

"Wow your first question is about his big cock, jealous? Do you secretly want to suck his cock?" Ally teased. "It's bigger then you of course bit not overly enormous" she told me.

I thought for a moment "do I know him?" I asked

"No" she responded. She rubbed me again thru the pantyhose then ran her hand across my ass. I jumped as it felt like electricity running thru my body.

"Whould you like to wear pantyhose more? I would get you your own?" Ally asked I just moaned. "What about other things, girlie things. Have you tried panties?" She asked

"Yes, I love the feeling of satin" I confessed she stepped behind me her hands never leaving me.

"I bet you would look so cute all dressed up in satin" she told me her hands running up and pinching my nipples. "Rub yourself, don't take it out just rub" she told me kissing my ear. I rubbed my hardon it didn't take long for me to make a mess in my pantyhose. She headed for a shower leaving me to finish up.

In the morning I found a pair of nude pantyhose on top of my clothes.

"Wear them under your work clothes today" Ally told me. I put them on and put my underwear over them thinking it would hide them better if I bent over or something. I struggled to focus all day. The pantyhose driving me crazy.

At home Ally was cooking dinner,

"How was your day?" She smiled. "Why don't you strip down to just your silky pantyhose" without a thought I stripped. "How did you feel today?" She asked.

"Hot" I complained even though I loved it.

"Well you could shave that will reduce the temp and of course make them feel even more anazing" Ally told me. "And maybe I tell you how he likes to fuck me" she smiled. I went to take a bath. I shaved my legs, ass and groin. Before getting out of the tub. Ally met me at the door with a pair of full size pink satin panties.

"They are your size try them on" I slid them on and they felt amazing she then handed me a new pair of pantyhose they fit better then hers they weren't tight they felt amazing on my shaved legs.

"He loves to bend me over and fuck me standing up. He pounds away abusing my poor little pussy" She told me rubbing me thru the pantyhose and satin panties. I wanted to cum but she stopped.

"Why didn't you finish?" She asked running her hand thru the little cheat hair I had. I had not thought about it. She didn't wait for a response instead she bent me over.

"Like this he has me then he spreads my legs a bit" she moved my legs "and gets me wet" she said as she ran her fingers over my panty covered asshole. She then pulled my pantyhose and panties down exposing my ass. She applied something cool to my asshole and pushed her finger in.

"I want to make you a full fledge sissy" she told me. I didn't move I let her do whatever she wanted. She then pushed something hard against my hole.

"Push out and relax" she told me I tried and suddenly something slid into my ass. It hurt alittle as I gasped she pulled up my panties.

"I suck and swallow his cock. I never even put you in my mouth" Ally told me. "Do you like your new butt plug?" She asked. I spent the rest of the night even sleeping with the plug in my ass and the pantyhose.

"I am seeing him agsin after work, so you should focus on getting the laundry caught up and maybe thinking about getting rib of the rest of this hair. I went to work in pantyhose again. But she let me remove the plug it was small it felt so much bigger. When I got home I found a bigger plug on the table.

TRY THIS ONE SISSY GIRL the note read. I took it and worked into my ass as I get the tub set. And shaved my chest and pits. This is what I wanted I wanted the attention I wanted her to tease me. The plug hurt a little but if it made her happy.

Ally came home just before I was going to bed. She underdressed in front of me making a show of it. She peeled off her cum soaked panties.

"Look at all his cum" she laughed. "I got you this to wear" she smiled handing me a pink satin nightgown. As she went to shower. I put it on and wanted to jerk off. I was about to give in when Ally got out of the shower. She laid in bed naked. She lifted my nightgown and stroked me.

"Cum, don't hold back cum" she told me. I cane innunder a minute she caught all my cum in her hand.

"He cums so much more then you, she bought her hand up to show me. "Eat it, lick up your mess" she said sternly. I hesitated.

"I let him fuck my ass, could imagine me letting someone take my ass" she said I licked her hand clean. The salty taste was okay but the slimy texture almost made me gag.

In the morning she gave me a satin camisole with matching panties to wear. But no pantyhose. Agsin as soon as ingot home she had me strip and added an even bigger plug to my ass. Another nightie to wear to bed. The next morning she added a garter and stockings under my work clothes.

When I came home she greeted me at the door. She dragged me to the bedroom sat me down.

"Tell me you want this" she told me.

"Ally I love you" I started

"Tell me you want me to make you a sissy bitch, make you suck cock" She instructed me.

I froze staring at her I didn't want this to stop, but suck some guys cock?

"Yes make me your sissy bitch" I told her.

"That's truly what you always wanted isn't it" as she started to undress me smacking my hands down when I tried to help. "A little cuckold unable to satisfy his wife because he wanted to he the girl" she continued. She stripped me completely naked.

"Get on your knees and suck my cock" She told me lifting her dress. A pink plastic cock jutting out from her crotch. She pushed me down and lifted her cock to my lips. I looked up at her then opened my mouth. She was right I could never satisfy her I wanted to wear panties. I tried to suck her cock she gave me tips and hints to suck her cock better. My jaw hurt my knees hurt my throat hurt by the time she let me stop.

"You didn't make me cum, so" she pulled my hair so I stood and she spun me around and lubed my ass. She pushed her cock into my ass. She started slow but was soon bounding away.

"You love my cock don't you baby?" She asked

"Yes, fuck me" I pleaded. Before she stopped and pulled out.

"Get dressed" she told me pointing to a pile of clothes. There was satin panties and a bra. Stockings and a skirt and a shirt that said Sissy across it then in a box a pair of high heel shoes in my size. I slipped them on simple black 3 inch heels. I almost fell putting them on. I had not even noticed Ally get dressed as well.

"I will be back in the morning, I expect the house to be spotless. I don't care if it takes all night. You should be a pro in those heels by then" She kissed me on the cheek and left wearing sweat pants. I so wanted to cum but focused on cleaning. I didn't want to ruin this. I was up to 2am scubbing the house top to bottom.

I woke up to Ally coming home it was 9am.

"Still in bed" Ally pulled back the covers I still wore the bra and panties. She sat and rubbed my erection thru my satin panties.

"Beg to clean his cum from my cheating cunt" Ally laughed. I looked at her she was serious.

"Ally, I don't want" I whined

"Beg to devoure his sperm from me, make me believe you need it" Ally said.

"Please, Ally let me clean your pussy" I said. She looked at me.

"Ally I need to suck his manly seed from you, I need to clean you" I pleaded she stood and dropped her skirt lowering herself to my mouth. His cum dripped on my face before she even lowered herself all the way. She ground her pussy into my face as I locked and sucked her lips and clit. When she was satisfied I had done a good job she got off.

"Stay right there" she told me. When she returned she wore her strapon. She pulled off my panties and lubed my ass, before shoving her cock balls deep into my ass. My dick became soft but cum leaked from it. As she fucked me. My legs on her shoulders.

"Your just a little sissy now, my little bitch girlfriend" Ally told me. That's all I was now wasn't it. She didn't see me as a man. How could she? I started to cry as she fucked me hard with her toy.

"That's it my little bitch, all you can do is cry" Ally teased. She fucked me so long sweat dripped off her face. I was jelly. I just laid there.

"Here let's put this on now" Ally said as she fiddled with something around my balls. I sat up when she was done. I didn't have a dick!

"I knew it would fit. It's like you have no penis at all she laughed. "It's only 3/4 of an inch chastity cage." She told me. "And I already threw out the key"

"Your a woman now" Ally smiled. As I burst into tears again.

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skyrim-forever · 3 hours ago

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WIP Wednesday

Thank you for the tag @hircines-hunter <3

I'm tagging: @theoneandonlysemla @bougainvillea-and-saltwater @pocket-vvardvark @dirty-bosmer @changelingsandothernonsense

@lucien-lachance @firefly-factory @scholarlyhermit @sheirukitriesfandom @umbracirrus @lillxart @ladytanithia

@sanza-17 @sulphuricgrin @captain-of-silvenar

Was feeling like garbage most of last week and the ability to write vanished from me for a bit, but I've decided to return to a wip from December. This features two of Theodora's kids, Ceridwen (Ceri) and Arthano as her brother is visiting her at the CoW, in the below snippet they are giving a certain miserable mer a taste of his own medicine :P Apraxic - High Elvish/Altmeris "social outcast, a shamed outcast" Under cut for length :)

“I have seen the students you work with, ” He looks at her when he says this. “What you consider worthy of associating with is something I’d never subject myself to barring anything other than absolute necessity.” Faralda opens her mouth to speak, furrowed brows as she once again reminds him of his place as the slight delay in their meeting is making him bold, but she doesn’t get the chance.

“Who the fuck are you to have a problem with my sister?” Her brother is quick to add an apology. “Pardon my language, Professor.”

A small smirk creeps over Ceri’s features. Alone she did not feel comfortable to fire back at him with more than a glare; best to let her advisor handle it, but the mage feels more emboldened with Arthano here. Arthano who had gotten in more than his fair share of fights defending his younger siblings. If Ancano was feeling bold, brazen even, then he could handle being outnumbered. Satisfied at finally giving him a piece of his mind, she answers for the ex-Thalmor.

“Nobody. He isn’t a faculty member, not even a student, just someone Faralda has graciously pitied as to not let him freeze to death outside because he has no other options.”

“Why you little-” The mer at the forefront of their words is seizing as the one across the table pulls out a more devastating insult.

“Hmm…” Hand stroking his chin, he feigns a state of deep thought. “No position, no status, nowhere to go but here so he can’t return home… sounds a bit apraxic, don’t you agree Ceridwen?” Yes.

“Oh I hadn’t looked at it that way before but, you are indeed right, my brother.” Holding back a snicker, Ceri continues. “We probably shouldn’t even be speaking with him, what would the ancestors say?” Oh, how they are laying it on thick. Any ancestors that hadn’t instantly discounted them based on their heritage must be laughing, she is sure of it. Most certainly the type to have a sense of humour. Arthano keeps playing it up as Ancano’s eye twitches, prominent enough that she can see it out of the corner of her eye.

“By Auri-El, what would they say?” A small chuckle emits from her at that. “We have reputations to uphold after all, we cannot go bringing shame to the family name.” The name that neither of them had on their documentation anywhere outside of the few years spent in their father’s homeland. That does not matter, what matters is the incredibly smug expression on both of them as the other implodes.

“I will not be spoken to on the subject of reputation by two half-breeds who could not get further from the notion of praxis, why I-”

“You will take your leave now, Ancano.” The Master Wizard’s voice is clear and firm. “I will reschedule our meeting for in three weeks time, I am sure you will be available.” The rage settles into confusion then sadness as the former Thalmor’s face falls.

“Three weeks?”

“I will make four if you do not leave now, your outburst already made it longer. You should be thankful the dining hall is mostly empty and you did not embarrass us more.”

“I think you should get going, Alcano. And some advice for next time; we lived in the Summerset for years, you’ll have to get more creative with the insults.” For a split second the fire within the sad mer ignites once more, torn between addressing the great insult of mispronouncing his name, ultimately deciding Arthano is not worth further punishment.

“Fine.”

#wip wednesday #oc: ceridwen #oc: arthano #clap back kids!!!#if he can dish it out he can take it #I left him alive so i could have them bully him <3 #it's good for him <3 #peak sibling shenanigans

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schrijverr · 8 hours ago

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I Didn’t Mean to Say I Do, but I Do. I Do. 45

Chapter 45 out of 50

Secret marriage of convenience buddie slow burn AU, where Buck and Eddie have been married for years so Buck could adopt Chris and no one at the 118 knows.

In this chapter, Buck and Chris get swept up by the tsunami. Buck tries his best to keep Chris safe and sheltered from the worst of it, however, the receding tide still takes him. Buck has to find him again, he can’t lose Chris, can’t lose their son.

On AO3.

Ships: Buddie

Warnings: insecurity, self loathing, injury, minor character death mention, near death experience

~~~

Chapter 45: Just Keep Swimming

A tsunami. Buck honestly isn’t sure why he didn’t expect it with how life has just been one disaster after another lately, but somehow this wasn’t on his planning this morning when he took Chris to the pier.

Sitting here on a fire engine from what he’s pretty sure is Bosko’s unit, surrounded by people he pulled from the water, he regrets not at least calling out a hi to her when he saw her on the pier earlier.

It felt too awkward to so then, since she is housing his husband and he at some point thought said husband was having an affair with her, but now he would kill for someone to know that they’re out here. It was such a spur of the moment thing that he didn’t mention it to anyone. They’re sitting ducks right now.

The only thing that is keeping him sane, is that Chris is right next to him.

He feels horrible about Chris being out here in this with him. If they’d just stayed home today, they wouldn’t have been in this mess. But no, Buck dragged Chris out to the pier, because he wanted to make right that Eddie has been driven away by something involving Buck. Now Chris just has another traumatic event to add to the list. And that’s his fault.

However, now is not the time to focus on how awful he feels, he needs to focus on Chris. Despite the terrible day he’s having, he’s being plenty cheerful. It’s very Chris, and Buck is glad life hasn’t crushed his spirit yet as they play I Spy together.

If the circumstances were different, he might have paid more attention to the other people he pulled from the water. However, no one appeared seriously injured, so as long as that stays the same, he forgives himself for not having the best bedside manners right now.

He’s off the clock anyway and not even officially a firefighter again, he can be forgiven for wanting to focus on his own kid. He did enough already by leaving him alone on the fire engine to pull everyone else out the water. Buck is a firefighter in his heart, so that went without saying, but he’s too tired to divide his attention between everyone else and Chris. Paramedic has always been more Hen or Chimney’s, or even Eddie’s job.

“Okay, I spy with my little eye, something that…” Buck looks to see what he can find. “Moves people around.”

Chris peers around quite adorably at the debris that is floating by to see what Buck is spying. “Oh, a scooter,” Chris realizes quickly, spotting what Buck had spied.

“Ah, yeah, nice one,” Buck says, having hoped it would be a little more difficult to find. He wants to be able to drag this game out as long as he can, so Chris has something to focus on other than the fact that they’re stuck on a fire engine while waiting for rescue or until the water goes down. But he can’t get disheartened yet, so he nudges Chris and prompts: “Okay, genius, your turn.”

“I spy,” Chris looks around much like Buck had a few seconds ago, “a shopping cart.”

“What? No, come on. Hey, that’s not how the game works. You can’t just yell stuff out,” Buck tells him.

“But, papi, yelling stuff out is the fun part!” Chris yells loudly, big grin on his face.

Buck’s heart just bursts with affection. He loves this kid so goddamn much and he is so grateful to the universe that it let him have this, even if it might not be forever, he gets to be here now. He pulls Chris into a side hug, leaning his cheek against Chris’s wet curls as he says: “You amaze me, buddy.”

“Why?”

“I know you’ve had a rough few weeks and you were pretty down yesterday. When I was a kid and I got bad news, I always got so mad, but you, after the day you had, here you are, with a big smile, busting a gut,” Buck chuckles. Then emotion overtakes him and the memory of the fear makes his voice waver. “You never gave up. Even when that water was rushing over you back there. You just kept on swimming.”

“Like Dory,” Chris says, referencing a movie they’d watched together a couple of times. Buck hadn’t even realized the words Dory sang so often had come out until Chris said that.

“Yeah, like Dory,” he smiles. “And not just today, you know, but every day. You never say no, you never complain.” It’s suddenly very important to Buck that Chris knows how impressed he is with him, that he thinks he’s the best, that he’s proud of him. “You’re such a good kid, Superman, and I keep being blown away by you. How do you do that? You didn’t get that from me, that’s for sure.”

Chris has a pleased look on his face as he explains: “Well, I complained once, but it didn’t work.”

Buck could point out that Chris complained more than once whenever it was early, but he still had to do PT or when he had to go to bed…

However, he doesn’t. He doesn’t want to do that, he doesn’t want to waste time that suddenly feels so limited correcting Chris, he wants to know him. Know him the best he can, hold as many pieces of this amazing kid in his heart. “So what did you do?”

“I just kept on swimming, papi. Like Dory,” Chris shrugs simply.

God, Chris is going to make Buck cry. He’s been trying so hard not to cry, to not let Chris see how scared he was and still is, how dangerous their situation is. Yet, here he is, nearly loosing that fight with himself because of Chris.

He’s witnessed the kid go through so much heartbreak. From Shannon leaving, to Eddie having to re-enlist, to Eddie getting seriously hurt, to uprooting his whole life to move here, to Buck getting hurt, to Eddie pulling away, to this. Buck doesn’t know where he gets the resilience. Eddie is stubborn sure, and so is Buck, and the fiery attitude Chris gets from Shannon, but this? It’s pure Chris.

It makes Buck want to hold Chris closer, hug him tightly and wish nothing else will happen to him, that nothing will ever break his spirit. But he doesn’t want to start acting weird, doesn’t want to worry Chris. So, he just pulls him a little closer to his side and takes a deep breath.

“Oh my god, look over there,” a man exclaims, pulling Buck out of his thoughts as he tries to see what they’re talking about.

“Oh my god.” “Oh no.” Two women also exclaim their horror and Buck now sees why. It’s no longer just debris that is floating by, but a group of bodies.

Chris hasn’t seen the bodies yet and Buck needs to make sure he never will. He could never live with himself if he let Chris see that. Nor could Eddie. God, Eddie will probably be so pissed at Buck. He trusted Buck to look out for Chris, to take care of him when he couldn’t, but Buck only got him caught up into a literal disaster and now Chris might see his first corpse.

Moving quickly, he settles Chris sideways, doing a little swoop as he sits him down to make it seem playful as he cups Chris’s cheek to further guide his eyes away and says: “I- I spy with my little eye, something that is,” he looks around desperately, “high.”

Success. Chris looks up and away from the bodies, peering at the buildings surrounding them to find what Buck is spying, thankfully not yet bored of the game. “A street sign?” he guesses.

Buck looks over at the bodies to see where they are. Still too close for comfort. In fact, way too close in general. They’re right next to the engine, if Buck wanted to touch them, all he’d have to do is reach out his hand.

Despite not having picked anything as the object for I Spy, Buck shakes his head: “Uh, high- higher than that. Like, whoa…” to keep up the charade.

Chris guesses a window, a street light and a cloud, before the bodies have passed. When Buck finally reveals the answer was the air-conditioning unit in one of the windows, Chris huffs: “I don’t wanna play this game anymore.”

“Yeah, me neither,” Buck sighs in a manner that may be a bit too honest as he goes to sit next to Chris. His leg hurts like a motherfucker and he’s exhausted.

It seems to last forever until a rescue mission is set up, though logically he knows they’re probably already out there, getting through is just hard and organizing enough boats is rough. Still, he’d give a lot to see firefighters on the horizon. Especially the 118.

God, what he wouldn’t give to see the 118 right now. To have the most competent people he knows come to rescue them, so he knows this nightmare is behind him.

The 118 will have Eddie too. He wants to see Eddie so bad right now. The man will likely be angry with him for endangering Chris, but he’d at least be here with him. He’s missed him being by his side so much and even though he knows it will likely be his new reality soon, in this moment he’d give anything to have the fantasy of a them again. He needs the comfort, even when he won’t know what to do when he’ll get it.

“I don’t know what we’re gonna tell daddy,” he says, more to fill the silence and distract himself from his own thoughts than anything else. “You know, we don’t invite him one time and, uh, look what happens.”

He doesn’t know what he expected from Chris. Maybe a snippy comment, like Eddie sometimes does, or another blasé comment about their situation. Instead he gets a soft and honest: “You saved me. And you saved them.”

Buck looks over at the others that Chris indicated. They all look half-drowned and beaten up, but they’re alive. He makes eye contact with one of the women he pulled out early on and she smiles at him, the younger woman huddled next to her doing the same. Automatically he smiles back.

If he’s honest, he doesn’t think he did anything big, just did his job. However, Chris doesn’t think so. Chris thinks he saved them, that he’s a hero. The tears he managed to fight off return and he has to swallow to stop them from falling.

To deflect, he says: “No, we did that together. Me and you make a great team. Give me a high five,” as he holds up his hand. He means it too, he wouldn’t have made it through this without Chris right there next to him.

Chris high fives him as Buck continues: “I’m proud of you. Really,” because Chris needs to hear that. He pulls Chris into a hug, hoping that’ll make the message sink in more.

As Chris loops his arms around Buck in return, he says: “Thank you, papi.”

“No, thank you,” Buck whispers into Chris’s shoulder. It’s not the most eloquent thing he’s ever said, but it’ll have to do, because he can’t think of anything else to say.

The sounds of water rushing makes him pull back slightly from the hug so he can see what’s going on.

Indeed, the water that had been calm a second ago is now flowing again and it’s flowing fast, too fast. It’s shaking the fire engine and pulling the debris along to bash against the sides of their refuge that now seems more fragile than it should.

Buck immediately grips Chris tightly, as he shouts to the others: “Everybody get down! Get down and hold on! Hold on!”

Further up a shelter must have failed to withstand the wave, because there are calls for help coming from between the debris and when Buck looks up over the cabin of the fire engine, there are people getting dragged forwards by the water as they wave for help.

Torn, he looks between Chris and the people yelling for help. He should definitely go help them, but he should also definitely make sure Chris is okay.

In the end, helping the people wins out, Chris is already okay. The fire engine is holding up and a safe space to hide out on until this is over. Besides, Chris thinks he saved the people already on there, he can’t let him see him just sit and do nothing while people need help. It’s not in his nature and it’s not what he wants Chris to think of his papi.

So he tells Chris to hold on, then goes to lay over the roof of the front cabin, so he can hold out his hand for the people drifting towards them to grab.

He is just pulling up a man, when something rams into the engine, shaking it violently. He hears something that could be the start of ‘papi’ before there is a splash. The realization of what that could be washes over him and he turns around just in time to see Chris disappear into the waves.

In a wave of adrenaline, he pulls the man aboard, injuring his arm in the process, but he doesn’t care as he abandons any sort of rescuing mission he was aiding at the other side of the engine as he goes to scanning the water to find Chris, calling out: “Chris? Christopher! Christopher! No! Christopher! Christopher! CHRIS!”

There is no Christopher to call back.

Without hesitation, he dives into the water after him. The chances of managing to grab him again are very low and it’s a stupidly dangerous thing to do, but none of that even registers for Buck. His son needs him, he’s going to fucking get to him, danger be damned.

If Chris was difficult to spot from the engine, it’s downright impossible to find him in the chaos of the water. Buck’s screams keep getting cut off by the water invading his mouth and just keeping himself above the water is an exhausting task. He doesn’t know how he’s going to get to Chris when he finally does find him.

As it turns out, he never gets to find out. A cluster of debris rams into him, pushing all the air out of his lungs, before dragging him down under as his foot gets stuck. Helplessly he tugs at it, vision whiting out from the pain, since of course it has to be his bad leg.

Before he can drown, the debris cluster hits a building and so does Buck. It wrenches at his leg, making him pass out, but freeing him in the process.

Buck floats down towards the sea unconscious for another second, before hitting a street sign, which wakes him up again. He flails about and almost drowns a dozen more times, before he grabs onto what at one point was wind indicator, but is now a broken pole where debris congregates.

He looks around desperately for Chis, calling out his name, but there is no response nor sign from the kid anywhere.

The heavy feeling of defeat settles in his bones as he clings to that pole, sporadically getting hit by debris as slowly the water level goes down. No miracle happens. Chris doesn’t appear. He hits the ground with a sharp pain in his leg and Chris nowhere in sight.

Chris is gone.

He lost him.

Buck lost him.

How is he ever going to live with himself? How is he ever going to tell Eddie? Buck left Chris alone for a second to save someone he didn’t even know. He let Chris fall. He let Chris drown. Buck lost him. He lost their son.

And for what? To save some people he doesn’t know? When Maddie was kidnapped by Doug and in serious danger, he hesitated, because he wanted to come home to his family, preserve what he had. Yet, here he abandoned Chris, the one person he wanted to come home to, because he wouldn’t understand.

He abandoned Chris right in front of his face, left him behind with nothing more than a ‘hold on’ while he focused on someone else. What kind of person is he? What does it say about him that he would abandon his sister for himself and his son for a stranger?

How will he ever look Eddie in the eye and tell him their son died, because Buck was playing the hero?

Buck isn’t on the clock right now, is still on medical leave. He’s a firefighter, sure, but he isn’t coming in after the fact to help with the rescue like those that are out there right now. He was hit by that wave, in the thick of the disaster. He’s a victim here, someone to be saved. He didn’t need to help anyone.

He should have left all those people behind to die. He should have held Chris as tightly as he could and never let him go, no matter what was happening around them.

‘You saved me. And you saved them.’

Chris’s words from before echo through his mind and he lifts his head to the sky to keep the tears in. He didn’t save anyone, especially not Chris. But it is how Chris sees him. He saves people. It’s why he couldn’t have abandoned anyone.

Because Buck is Buck and Buck saves people. He can still remember Chris bragging to his grandparents how his papi and daddy are heroes. How could he disappoint him by leaving those people when Chris was already safe beside him?

Chris was safe.

He was supposed to be safe.

Buck was supposed to keep him safe, but he failed. He failed and he has to fix this.

Determination comes over him and he uses the pole to steady himself. His ribs are bruised, maybe even broken and he has a headache like no other, not to mention his leg hurting almost worse than when he first got the injury. However, none of that matters, he has a mission to complete. He has to find Chris.

There is nothing else for him to worry about now. He is going to find Chris even if it kills him and he’s going to bring him home. He’s going to face Eddie with an alive Chris. He refuses to face an alternate reality.

Eddie is probably out there somewhere, helping people. That is his job. Eddie is out there as a firefighter, Buck is out here as a father. It’s his job to find Chris. They’ve always shared the responsibility, passed it back and forth to make it manageable. Right now, Buck holds the responsibility. He won’t fuck that up. Buck fixes things, he can fix this too.

It doesn’t matter that Eddie has been pulling away recently, that he’s figuring himself out. The two of them are still a unit as they’ve always been. Just because Eddie is going to leave Buck, doesn’t mean that their little family is gone entirely. They still have each other’s back out in the field, so Buck needs to have his back.

Buck will always be connected to Eddie through Chris. Eddie trusts him with Chris’s safety, trusts him to watch him while Eddie takes the space he needs. Just like Buck trusted him with Chris when he was chasing after Maddie or in the hospital.

Of course he’ll always love Eddie, he loves him so fucking much, but Chris was the first Diaz that stole his heart, albeit in a different way.

Eddie feels like safety and home. He feels like a solid rock that Buck can always come back to and be met with open arms. He knows Buck wholly and he never left. Not really. He had to enlist and recently he ran. However, he never left. He stayed close, he didn’t abandon him. Buck believes that somehow, sometime, they’ll come back to each other, even if it’s as nothing other than friends.

But Chris- Chris is his kid. His best friend, who amazes him every day. He loves Chris so much. Chris, who is so small, who has been entrusted to Buck, who he has nurtured and seen grow into such an amazing person. Chris is a piece of his soul, that is just walking around. Chris relies on him, looks at him for guidance, for comfort, for parenting. Buck will never take that for granted.

The thought is enough to propel him forward into action. He straightens himself up and looks around. The water pulled them back out to the sea, Chris was taken by the same tide as him, he probably washed up somewhere close to him. He just has to start searching, he’s bound to find Chris at some point.

It’s worse than having to find a needle in a haystack, but he ignores that part of reality. Thinking like that isn’t going to get him anywhere, isn’t going to fix this. Chris is still out there. He has to be.

Those first few steps he nearly buckles under the pain, but he has to keep moving. He doesn’t have time for pain and he knows he can keep pushing through. The human limit is much further than most people think, he’s seen people push through things much worse than a few bruises and a twisted ankle.

It’s a struggle at first. The water is still coming to his waist and slowly flowing back to the sea, so pushing against him. However, after a few near misses that send his heart beat skyrocketing, he gets into a rhythm.

Looking around, he sees that what is left of the pier is to his left and that the fire engine they took shelter on is also left from his position, even if it’s further inland. The water must have pulled him right, which means it pulled Chris right too.

He turns his back on both places and heads right.

Around him, more people are making their way through the disaster towards higher ground. Buck makes sure to take a good look at every person he passes, trying to see if he can catch sight of Chris, found by someone else. Safe.

No luck.

Turning onto a street, he hears someone yell: “Hey! There’s a kid under there.”

Immediately Buck is rushing to help. He hopes naively that it’s Chris, that it will be that easy. But he should have known better. Going off the shoes, he’s pretty sure it’s not Chris, but he isn’t going to let someone die. Especially not a kid. That’s someone’s child. He would want someone to save Chris too if they had the chance. Isn’t that what Hen said during the earthquake? This is no different.

He tells himself he’s not going to make detours to rescue people when he doesn’t have to, but this is basic human decency. Besides, with her free, he can stop the people she’s with, before they leave to ask them if they’ve seen Chris.

“Hey, hey, hey, excuse me,” he stops the group. “I’m looking for an eight-year-old boy. His name is Christopher. He’s always smiling, and he’s got CP, Cerebral Palsy. He’s got brown hair, yellow shirt.” He thinks about mentioning the glasses, but Chris probably lost them.

The surfer guy with long hair, thinks for a moment, then nods: “Yeah, yeah. I think I saw him.”

The feeling of hope, so fragile yet too big to contain his body is almost impossible to describe as he asks: “Where?”

“He was headed with a group that that cupcakery place,” surfer guy says. “I heard they’re handing out water.”

“Cupcakery? What is that?” Buck asks, needing more information so he can find Chris.

“You know, cupcake bakery. It’s about six or seven blocks south of here on Strand,” surfer guy explains.

While he is usually a fan of new tidbits of knowledge, right now he can’t give a single flying fuck about what a cupcakery is exactly. However surfer boy has given him workable information to go off with the address. “Thank you. Thank you.”

The girl is not the last person, he pulls out of the rubble on his search for Chris. And surfer guy is not the last person that gives him information on Chris that turns out to be nothing.

However, the disappointment never stops Buck. He has to keep going, keep searching, keep believing that Chris is alive and out there. That he just has to find him. That all he has to do is get to him and it’ll be okay.

A part of him can understand that it might be denial, but he doesn’t have space for anything else. If he lets himself think that, all the aches and pains he feels will pull him under and he can’t allow that to happen. He knows he’s injured, but he has to push through. For Chris.

Buck doesn’t give up. He can’t. Not until Chris is safe. He just has to keep swimming. Just has to fix this, even if it kills him. There is no other option, not for him, not when it comes to his son.

A/N:

I’m sorry if you thought you’d find out what Eddie would do this chapter, it was a deception. Let’s cross our fingers Buck doesn’t die before someone can find him!

#rr writing #secret marriage of convenience buddie au #the i do verse #9-1-1 #9 1 1 #9 1 1 show #9 1 1 fanfiction #911 #911 show #911 fanfic #buddie #buck x eddie #evan buckley #christopher diaz #buckley diaz family #tw: insecurity #tw: self loathing #tw: minor character death mention #tw: near death experience

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amazingbananabread · 10 days ago

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Honestly I keep looking back to this one edit I made of Mel eating Jerry's head and...

Idk, it's just magnificent,,

. so anyways, actual selfship art coming up-

(Reference)

#melissa ^^#fan character #fc #rambling.lol #doodle #edit #jerry stokes #eltingville fc #eltingville oc #the eltingville club #welcome to eltingville #eltingville fanart #fanart #the eltingville club fc #the eltingville club oc #selfship #selfship art #i feel like i could add more but for now let just leave it that way #eltingville self insert

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vaguely-concerned · 4 months ago

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just going about my day idly contemplating how some of the ways hawke can interact with a romanced anders are not at all unlike how they interact with leandra (and a bit of carver too, especially with a purple hawke), and then thought about my hawke in the timeline where he romances anders and was hit straight in the face with 'was he ever actually in love, or was he just desperately trying to renegotiate with his mother's ghost in any way he could' and now i need to lie down. this is the power of dragon age 2

#'you don't know my mother' haunting me through the years #dragon age #dragon age 2 #hawke #On second thought let's not go to Kirkwall; it is a silly place #there are of course as many ways to do/read that relationship as there are players to interact with it haha and all valid!#but my personal version of handers is sooo fucked up and bad times for everyone involved and I love it haha.#this is a relationship neither of them should have been in and that made everything worse and everyone unhappy in the end #locked tomb levels of the horrors of love. i ship it but in the way that I want to make it sadder and more gutwrenching each time #to be clear this is a very mutual two-way kind of fucked up but I think varric in his loyalty and love would downplay hawke's side of it #for huge swathes of their relationship anders is not in a mental place to be a good partner and the emotional blackmail is Not Okay #(but it's just like how mother used to make it! hawke's soul cries sadly as it reaches for it hungrily)#which is in some ways fair enough no one could accuse him of not warning you ahead of time fjskda #but hawke is messy about it in a way only available to a covert people pleaser who has never had a millisecond of therapy #with some added stuff that my hawke is always acespec in some form and when he gets together with anders...#is the sex something he doesn't particularly care to have or not have but it 'makes anders happy'/he longs to feel wanted *and* needed #and also a way he gets out of ever being *actually* vulnerable (which I think he'd had to be with varric for example if he Went There )#'you want the hawke who's in your head so badly and I kind of wish I were that hawke too. so let's be collaborateurs with that fantasy'#(and then maybe if I do it right every time you'll finally be happy hawke says in his heart looking at this leandra-anders phantom form)#(and echoing stuff in varric's relationship to hawke but I think the important distinction there is that varric -- is a craftsman haha #he KNOWS when he's lying/making up a story he KNOWS the difference between what is and what he wishes the world was #(I think there's some deep longing there to not know; for it to blend together or have the power to change things. but he always knows)#which ironically leaves him in a better position to actually see and understand hawke the person #even as he is creating hawke the literary figure. almost to protect him in some ways? god da2 is so full of STUFF!!! I adore it)#and of course anders gets so disillusioned with hawke's inertia and lack of action (you all but married this man anders!#you should know this about him he's already carrying the whole family and city on his shoulders if you add a gram more he'll collapse!)#and hawke feels so desperately hurt that the promise anders seemed to make that he'd be enough -- that he could fix things for him --#('I'm the one bright light in kirkwall and that apparently doesn't count for shit so I'm just slowly turning to ash for you')#turned out to be untrue. anyway. sad now. imagine them meeting like twenty years on what the fuck could you even say to each other then #(I can't imagine Hawke ever physically hurting anyone he loves so he just tells Anders to leave at the end of DA2. they COULD meet again

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sskk-manifesto · 6 months ago

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Ep 10!

#Idk it was. An episode. Not many thoughts tbh ajhdblabfdl #The Kyouka / Akutagawa scene is my favourite ever. But I suppose there's little to say about them I haven't said already lol.#The “Because I knew a man who had the same eyes as yours” will never stop being endlessly impactful.#And I still find it very remarkable how Kyouka is pretty much literally the only person other than Dazai that Akutagawa respects.#It hits me so hard.#Nothing else to add? I think the storywriting in this arc is very good. The plot twists are very well executed.#I remember when I was reading the manga and Ranpo challenged Chuuya face off I was so hooked!!#I was like�� how is he going to win!!! It's very nice.#I think it's interesting that Atsushi stayed behind with Kunikida instead of facing the pm with the rest of the pm.#I wish we'd explored his decision and state of mind more‚ especially since he was portrayed as being visibly conflicted.#I think part of it simply solves a storytelling purpose of not leaving Kunikida alone...#But I don't think that necessarily means the decision doesn't suit him. Atsushi really looks up to Fukuzawa.#His trauma probably makes him more reluctant to break orders than‚ let's say‚ Ranpo.#And he's always been very spokenly against violence.#Idk. I just think it's interesting.#The line “Kunikida‚ you're the strongest and most virtuous of us in the Agency. That's why the enemy tried to break you first.”#is very emotional #The animation is so strained it makes me feel bad for the animators. So many static frames lingering for so long...#I feel like the result isn't necessarily terrible either. The drawings are not ugly‚ just very undetailed.#But it really feels like there was a group of people doing the best they could with the llittle they had...#random rambles #And I'm now all caught up with the rewatch!!!!!!!! 🥳🥳🥳 See you on Wednesday!!!!!

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jrueships · 1 year ago

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tbh tho i think my art is fugly af LMFAO

#not in a '>w< eeeek! i wish i could drawww 🥺 i can only cobble such measle crap with my lowly peasant paws.. *unveils mona lisa*'#sense but like a my style makes me want to hurl whenever i look at it bcs it's a constant reminder that it can only be what i can make it be #and bcs it looks bad to me then that means i cant make things look good if u get my sense like #idk man 😭!! im just sick of being scribbly!! and not clean! i wanna ink my art! have crisp lines! dark lines!!#not have to put stupid darkening filters on everything bcs i cant color or shade so my art is just stuck with the blinding white background #well the frustration is more how i CAN color and shade.. i CAN ink my lines with a darker one #lets not excuse my laziness now cmon ted omg dumbass bitch #it's just that doing so makes me . crazy #my attention span like. crumbles when i try to add color or ink over lines bcs thats Such a commitment to me #i HATE leaving things unfinished when it seems so monumental #like unfinished sketches or prompts? fine. those are sketches. little prompts. even if u post it it's shit #but starting big things is a COMMITMENT.. with CONSEQUENCES ! ! i just want to avoid them ig #it's like im stuck between art being a fun lil past time and being a perfectionist actually so no. no it is not #but also i NEED to draw i NEED to write SOMETHING! SOMETHING!! then i realize the weight of things and purposefully hinder myself #then later hate myself for hindering even tho it felt so good and right in the beginning ORGHH or WHATEVER #idk one of my friends told me my style reminded them of the new tmnt movie (which has been praised yeah #for like beautiful ugliness tho) and like. i KNOW it's a compliment... but. why did it make me Feel 😭 like i wanted to rip my art 2 shreds #once i lined my art and my friend (an artist i admire) said smthin like 'omg finally! ted lined art! gorgeous!'#& i KNOW. I KNOW IT'S A COMPLIMENT. BUT WHY AM I THINKING LIKE. SO VIOLENT. NOT ABT THEM. BUT MY SHIT NOW #like UGHHH i just HATE feeling trapped and helpless when actually theres help available but im just DUM!! JUST LINE UR ART TED #art is like playing sport is like making good grades is like working well is like being a good friend is like being a good person #literally. just be GOOD.#it's all a performance to me ARGHARGH! I HATE THE JOKER! I HATE BEING CRINGE@! RAGGHH I HATE THIS SHIT #<- mfs when no basketball #mfw i cannot avoid enlightenment via the meaningless distractions i codepently craveRAGGHG!!!!!!1!

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phiniusandjelly · 13 days ago

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Vaguely inspired by that one post where Danny gets summoned by the JL and keeps throwing his shoes and stuff at them bc HE might not be able to leave the summoning circle but his clothes sure can!

I think the twist for that was that the circle doesnt effect him at all because hes a halfa and he was just goofing with the JL.

But imagine if the summoning and containment WORKED.

Like, he gets summoned and its startling, but once he realizes hes been summoned hes mostly annoyed.

Its a school night! He has work to do! Sure he wasnt DOING it, but it was still a possibility!

And hes trying to banter with the JL. Which for him just means being vaguely-obnoxious-but-somewhat-charming.

But then he tries to leave.

Maybe hes worried about his friends reaction to seeing him disappear.

Maybe the JL are saying some anti ghost/demon/whatever they think he is nonsense.

Maybe he changed his mind about doing that homework.

But either way, it doesnt work.

He drags his hand along the edge of the spell. It doesnt give, and he realizes hes not sure what this spell is supposed to do.

Its all along the floor beneth him, he cant fly through the floor.

He tries to get away from the walls and floor, worried whatever spell makes up the container can be triggered to hurt him or brainwash him or SOMETHING.

Its not his best guest, but he has never been summoned before, at least not with this type of barrier, and he doesnt know what to expect.

He barely gets a few feet off the ground when he hits the spells invisible roof.

And he is trapped.

And now this fourteen year old child is caged in a room with clearly dangerous adult strangers.

After hes been more or less kidnapped.

He’s suddenly regretting insulting them.

And its not his first time beimg kidnapped. Or his first time being in danger in general (obviously).

but its usually some ghost! Or Vlad “Loser, I hardly know her!” Masters!

Both of whom explain literally everything they plan in long ass evil monologues! It usually takes danny five minutes tops to learn their entire life story Dr Doofenshmirtz style!

He knows most of them personally! They hang out sometimes! Heck! even the local ghost hunters are either literally related to him or someone he’s dated!

He knows their powersets, their strengths, their weaknesses.

Most importantly, he knows their goals

But now hes trapped. In a room of clearly superpowerd strangers. With magical abilities strong enough to trap him for real.

And has no idea what they want

And Danny just freezes up

This could be super angsty if the JL were told that he was evil and think his panic + young features are only done to manipulate them.

You can also add angst with a language barrier/translation issue

I imagine the JL would be trying to get information about ghosts/ are trying to get someone to fight a villain they can’t defeat

Its going to scare the shit out of Danny either way- like imagine fourteen year old you gets kidnapped by strangers and they start asking you about your weaknesses or say they will only let you out if you agree to fight this monster.

And if Danny doesnt know this villain or how tf hes going to fight them he might feel like hes being sent off to get his ass kicked.

I can just imagine Danny being told he has to fight this supervillain and being like “…if i like..die…trying to fight this guy…what are you going to do with my body? Like will you send me home? Cause my family will freak if my corpse is teleported into the living room”

JL would not be happy about any of his responses.

Im begging someone to write this please have a nice day

#danny phantom #dp x dc #justice league #justice league x danny phantom #not a ship #dc x dp #dc x dp crossover #dcxdp #dpxdc #misunderstandings #angst potential

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anantaru · 4 months ago

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⚝ DAY 3 — LINGERIE

kinktober 2024. — masterlist | ao3

— including. — kazuha, scaramouche, kinich, alhaitham

— warnings. — fem! reader, fingering/scissoring, lots of teasing, alhaitham is the teasing master in this, hot and bothered genshin boys

⚝ — KAZUHA

"do i look good in this?"

good— was an understatement, and kazuha's breath stays stuck in his throat when he sees you in that dainty, little lace, his eyes widening in awe, admiring your magnificence.

the world around him seems to fade, leaving only you bathed in the soft glow of candlelight and frail garments hugging the curves of your body, "you’re… breathtaking," he whispers, his tone of choice an octave lower.

your fingers reach out to guide him, trembling slightly as his digits trace along the intricate patterns of the fabric— every touch was reverent, his fingertips brushing over the sheer bra exposing your erected nipples to him—fuck, it's as though he can’t decide which was more captivating.

"i can’t believe you’re real," he laughs and brushes away the loose hair strands sticking on his forehead, his eyes never leaving yours.

he pulls himself on top of you before placing his palm on your breast, "so beautiful…" kazuha continues, his glossy lips ghosting over your collarbone, his teeth grazing at the sensitive skin on your neck until he’s certain that there's a little hickey there as you twist and curl underneath him, voicelessly telling him to just touch you already.

and here he was now, in fact, he cannot stop touching you, each caress lingering as though to forevermore memorize the feel of you under his hands.

he slips his digits through the flimsy waistband of your underwear as your walls instantly flex and pulse around his fingers when he inserts them knuckles deep— only one, then after pressing it in and out for about three times, he add another, continuously sinking them into you as he smears harsh circles into your clit to multiply the sensation he's about to give you all night.

⚝ — SCARAMOUCHE

you’re so soft above scaramouche and it only spurs him on, especially with those graceful garments daintily squeezing your frame.

his tongue licks across his bottom lip when he pulls his fingers through the panties to scissor his digits inside your walls, playing with those searing spots he knew got you trembling, got you to beg for more. you're curling into him, squeezing yourself so close for him to add a couple kisses on your throat.

the volume of your voice increases each time scaramouche would find another compliment befitting of the new set of lingerie he's bought you— the wider his smirk gets, the more it means you're squeezing his fingers harder, "just like that, you look so good in this, picked it right for you, yeah?"

you eagerly nod as he feels your warmth clamping when he begins to scissor you, pumping his slender fingers in and out before adding the third.

well, lets be honest here, in the beginning he thought to himself on how ridiculous it must be for him to buy you something like that and he almost went back to return the costly good, yet now? wow, how fucking thankful he was to himself that he didn't.

⚝ — KINICH

"gimme a spin, yeah? like that," kinich smirks as you twirl around the newest set of lingerie, a deep red that hugged around the curves of your breasts and leaves almost no fabric left on your bottom.

and those thigh highs you added on, they made him feel like he's about to absolutely ravish you. kinich's not used to being at a loss for words, well, he keeps himself silent on purpose but with you? seeing you like this he thought he could say something other than look at you like a man who's never seen a woman before.

he was too drunk on the sight and so fucking hard already, feeling a twitch inside his boxers when you kneel down to press a harsh kiss on his bulge, looking up at him through doe eyes— and the next almost cruel throb in his shorts was to die for— this is making him lose his mind. you are.

he bites down on his tongue, his hips rolling into your palm with your lips hovering over the length. palming the front of his trousers, your face slants forward to smear your saliva across his lower abdomen so you'd be perfectly bend across him, making it fairly easy for kinich to watch your pretty ass and your folds barely being covered by anything but a fine silken line.

⚝ — ALHAITHAM

alhaitham's eyes barely flicker up from his book when you step into the room, though there’s a telltale tension in the way his grip tightens on the pages. he acts disinterested, you ponder if that book in his hands had a soul catching story for him to be this way— but you can feel the weight of his gaze when he thinks you aren’t looking.

"sit," he bluntly says, his voice commanding and motioning to his bulgy thigh, but he speaks in a way as though your appearance in such delicate lingerie wasn't affected him— although when you ultimately settle on his lap, he doesn’t miss a beat, his hand immediately reaching to the hem of your lace.

"read the next page for me, think you can do that?" he orders, though there’s a slight edge to his voice that betrays his focus, it's no longer on the book, but on your cute tits and sheer bra prancing with your lovely nipples.

you gulp down, adjusting your seat on his lap as you begin to read while he began to trace lazy patterns along the fabric, his fingertips brushing lightly over the lace, teasing and coaxing out needy shivers from your spine.

so well, his eyes stay fixed on the book, but his hand grows bolder, slipping beneath the edge of the lingerie, feeling your bare skin, "you’re really distracting, you know that?" he mutters, though his smirk says otherwise, "i was only planning to read this book but now—"

there’s a tension in the air, a game he’s playing where he pretends the book holds his attention — but in reality, all he was focused on was you.

day and night, no matter what you'd wear.

his sensitive length twitches against your thigh as your hole squeezes around nothing, your lips exhaling a stutter before he lets his hands squeeze your thighs— your jaw slack in surprise at how bold he began to be, now digging hard between your legs to press into your clit and rub it— his cloudy, bloodshot gaze focused on the pulsing, little pearl getting all the more roused the more he flicked it back and forth.

"i never said you should stop reading," he adds on, "already done for the day, hm? you tired?" a little too nonchalant for your liking.

you pout through your dreamy, lustful expression before you're letting your hand smooth through his hair, lightly pecking his forehead, "fine, but I'm sensitive there alhaitham, be careful."

#genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin smut #genshin impact smut #alhaitham x reader #scaramouche x reader #kinich x reader #alhaitham smut #kazuha x reader #scaramouche smut #kazuha smut #al haitham x reader #kinich smut #al haitham smut #genshin x you #genshin impact x you #kinktober

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