#i had no fuckin clue how to end this lmao

[thewertsearch]

ERIDAN: im just saying wwhere the fuck wwere you guys ERIDAN: i had to deal wwith those awwful angels all by my self ERIDAN: do you havve any idea howw hard those assholes are to kill ERIDAN: like at least a minute of sustained fire from only the most legendary wweapon evver and they wwere FAST and ANGRY as SHIT

That's fucking terrifying, what the fuck?

Even without a maxed weapon, John was able to kill a First Guardian Imp in well under a minute.

Eridan's 'angels' survived significantly longer, while under fire from a significantly more powerful weapon. They're massively more durable than the most dangerous Underlings in the game, despite their session's Kernels containing weaker material.

What the fuck are these things made of?

KARKAT: I REALLY DON'T THINK YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO BE KILLING THEM DUDE. KARKAT: I KEPT SAYING, I THINK THEY'RE LIKE GAME CONSTRUCTS OR SOMETHING. THERE TO SERVE SOME OTHER GAME PURPOSE, NOT FOR YOU TO HUNT DOWN. KARKAT: THEY DIDN'T EVEN GIVE YOU ANY GRIST, YOU IDIOT. THAT WAS YOUR FIRST CLUE.

Far from being random Underlings, these angels are starting to seem kind of important, actually.

Like Jade's frogs, they represent one of the dual traits of their Land - and Jade's frogs are mission fucking critical. Did these angels also have an endgame purpose to serve?

If so, just how badly has Eridan fucked us over?

I don't know for sure if this quote is related, but Sollux described angels as 'terrible' beings who 'usher in the end'.

If these are the the LOWAA angels, then they almost certainly did have an endgame role that Eridan didn't discover.

Guys, I’ll admit it.

Eridan is kind of funny.

Karkat is really worried, isn’t he? He’s desperate to keep his team safe, even though most of them aren’t really listening to him any more.

Everyone gave this guy so much shit for being an ineffectual leader, but even now, he's taking his responsibility very seriously. Most of the other trolls would have thrown in the towel by now.

Six hundred hours.

This campaign went on for six hundred fucking hours, and Eridan still isn’t leaving Feferi the fuck alone. Did shooting all those angels not let off a little steam? Come on, man.

FEFERI: […] Eridan, you weren't really serious about going to find Jack, were you? ERIDAN: of course i wwas ERIDAN: and wwe should do it together ERIDAN: youvve got nothin to fear noww ivve reached a neww heights of powwer no one else can dream of […] SOLLUX: thii2 ii2 the mo2t hiilariiou2 thiing ii've ever heard, he made one of hii2 2hiitty fake wand2 glow a liittle and now he thiink2 he'2 a faiiry god troll or 2omethiing, lmao! ERIDAN: wwas that slander just i heard i cant evven tell ERIDAN: i tend to block out noise from filth wwhose blood is practically the complementary fuckin color a mine

I hate to admit it, but this behavior is actually fairly realistic. The whole world has collapsed, and Eridan is grasping for anything he can latch onto, to provide some semblance of normalcy.

Unfortunately, and predictably, he has latched onto classism like a limpet.

[kumquats-are-gay]

sparing with Johnny, and you pin him down only to find that he's rock hard, maybe some teasing/sex? idk idk

(TF YOU MEAN “idk”?? THIS PROMPT IS HEAT AND I’M ‘BOUTTA COOK!! 🔥💯😤)

Johnny Cage x gn!reader (SFW/NSFM)

NOTE: This will be a two-parter because I just couldn't wait to post what I had already, lmao. This first part only has sexual themes and foreplay, while the second part will have actual smut (also, while this first part is totally GN, the second part will be mentioning afab anatomy, but I will still be using GN pronouns). I'm sorry this took so long to get to; I've been working almost every day for the past two weeks and ya girl is tired, lol. Was super excited to write for this though! :D

ALSO I HAVE NO FUCKING CLUE HOW ACTUAL FIGHTING WORKS I JUST MADE SHIT UP LMAO PLS DON'T COME AT ME

Pasted straight from Google Docs and NOT proofread, so please excuse any grammatical/continuity errors/syntax and formatting. I am also still VERY much an amateur writer so pls go easy on me <3

AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/51869623

Come On With a Come-on

         For a ‘professional’, Johnny Cage is about the least professional person you’ve ever met. Propriety must be a foreign concept to him with how frequently he flirts with you, especially on set—you know, in front of all of your colleagues and crew? The man was shameless in his relentless pursual of you, like a goddamn dog with a bone. And worst of all? You liked it, and this fact frustrated you to no end. 

         How could you possibly be attracted to someone who is so insufferably arrogant, loud-mouthed, and impossibly far up his own ass? An ass that, admittedly, you find yourself staring at whenever you think he isn’t looking. But, because you’re an actual professional, you’ve rebuffed his every attempt to seduce you thus far. Plus, you had a reputation to keep and dignity to hold onto; you weren’t sullying either when the likely outcome would involve your face and name on countless tabloids. 

         Without warning, his stupid, smug, and incredibly handsome smile invades your mind, and you suddenly find yourself wanting nothing more than to punch it off of his unfairly chiseled jaw.

         …or maybe kiss it off.

         “Grah!” you abruptly shout while burying your hands in your hair, momentarily tugging at the roots in annoyance. God, you had a problem. 

         Bzzt.

         “Huh?” You look down at your hip where your phone had just buzzed in your pocket. You pull it out and flick your finger across the screen to unlock it, then tap on the messaging icon.

         Johnny Cage: Hey, wanna spar later? 👊👊

         You raised a brow. You and Johnny worked in the same sphere for a reason. Action films were your guys’ bread and butter since the both of you knew how to fight as well as do your own stunts. 

         You and Johnny hung out casually here and there, but the two of you had never sparred before. You sensed an opportunity in his proposal, though: an effective way to get your frustration out on the source of said frustration. Shrugging, you figure, ‘why not?’

         You: Yeah, I’m down. But I hope you know what you’re getting yourself into b/c I won’t be holding back!

         Johnny: Woah, don’t go threatening me with a good time ;) 

         Your stomach twirled in unbidden delight at the cheeky response, and you internally chastised yourself for being so easily affected by this man. You and Johnny sorted out the details of your meetup—his place, late afternoon—and returned your phone to your pocket. You would just have to kill some time until then.

~~~

         “Of course you would have your own gym, and of course it’s fuckin’ huge,” you joked with a bit of sarcasm, yet enough lightheartedness as to not offend. Though, you doubt Johnny could be so easily offended; he’s got way too much self-confidence (for better or for worse) to be put down that easily.

         “Oh, honey, you haven’t seen ‘huge’ yet,” he boasted with a smirk. The wink that followed did nothing to abate the heat that was slowly taking over your body, but you did your best not to let the effects show. Since when were easy, immature innuendos such a turn on for you? You just closed your eyes and shook your head.

         “Alright, I am definitely knocking you on your ass for that one.”

         “Hah, see if you can, sweetheart!”

         The two of you stood in your  respective corners and took your stances. One quick little countdown later, and the game was on. 

        You knew Johnny was a very good fighter being a martial arts expert and all, but you didn’t realize he was that good. In all honesty, you figured he was more bark than bite, and that you’d have no real problem going toe-to-toe with him. Unfortunately, it seems like you may have underestimated him. It turns out that Johnny Cage was one of the rare few you had met who could back up their arrogance. Bully for you.

        Furthermore, this shithead was fighting dirty! Well, okay—technically he wasn’t fighting dirty. He was just talking after all, and there’s nothing wrong or “illegal” with that. But it was a dirty tactic regardless, and it only infuriated you further with how helpless you were to try and block him out.

        You pivot sharply on one foot and  use the momentum to lift and swing the other around, aiming the kick at his head. You expect him to duck under such a high-reaching maneuver—maybe he’d follow up with a low sweep with your single foot planted on the ground—so you prepare yourself to counter this. See, before you went into acting, fighting was your primary activity; you won many tournaments and managed to make a decent living off of it. One of the main things you were known for were your notoriously powerful kicks; few would risk trying to outright block them rather than moving out of the way.

         You must have forgotten who you were up against; that was the only reasonable explanation for your short-sightedness. You were not distracted by him or anything like that, thank you very much. Johnny-fucking-Cage just lifts an arm and grabs your leg. With one hand. Like it was nothing.

         The impact creates a loud smack! that briefly leaves you dumbfounded; you felt the force of that blow against his palm, and it was enough to leave the skin there tingling unpleasantly. Johnny didn’t look phased in the least bit with a crooked smile dancing across his handsome features, just gripping your ankle. Casually. Like you weren’t currently being held in the near-vertical splits.

         Johnny took this fleeting opportunity to give you a quick once-over, and his smile only grew. “Nice legs,” he quipped, “bet they’d look a lot nicer over my shoulders.” You openly gaped at his brazenness, and he used your shock to his advantage, flipping you in one fell swoop. You grunted when your back hit the mat underneath you, but the heat that overwhelmed your person (caused by your anger and fury, obviously) had you back up in a flash.

         “Best two out of three,” you nearly seethed. Johnny had the audacity to appear as anything but intimidated. In fact, he seemed rather amused.

         “You know, you’re like, really hot when you’re mad.”

         You nearly flung yourself at him in a mindless bout of rage, but caught yourself only a split moment before you could make such a devastating mistake. A delightful idea quickly sprang to mind—two could play at this game. 

         You kept up the facade of indignation and outrage in order to trick Johnny into thinking that you actually were going to make that blind charge at him. You stepped off of your dominant foot, using the momentum to make a lunge for him. He braced himself to counter your head-on attack, but you feigned right at the last possible second, swiftly gripped his shoulder with your left hand, and brought your right leg in against the back of his knee to buckle it. Johnny was quick to recover, though, keeping enough of his balance to twist and grapple with you as his leg nearly gave out. 

         Ah, so it was time for plan B.

         Before he could finish off the move, you brought your face right up to his, making sure that the two of you were making eye contact, and looked at him with sensual purpose. It was almost enough to disarm him, so to ensure you had the upper hand, you threw him another curveball with a breathy, “I wonder if you fuck as good as you fight.” 

         That did the trick. Johnny’s mind was sent reeling with your seemingly out-of-pocket comment, and you jumped at the chance to knock him flat on his ass. Johnny got the wind knocked from him as he landed with a resounding thump. Not wasting a minute, you straddled yourself across his hips and held his wrists against the floor mat. While Johnny had more raw strength than you, you hoped that the KO would leave him dizzy enough to keep him subdued.

         “Ha! Gotcha!” you barked out in triumph. Johnny just blinked up at you in a daze as his response. “I knew you wouldn’t be able to handle the taste of your own medi-” you had cut yourself off when you felt something stiff beneath your pelvis. ‘What…? Wait, is he…’

         “Are you hard right now?!” you squawked incredulously. Johnny just shrugged his shoulders and gave you an audacious smirk, as if to say, ‘Uh, yeah I guess so. What about it?’ You were flabbergasted. “I can not believe you right now!” You released his wrists and made to get up, but he grabbed your hips before you could get away. Damn it, his body was so warm, and…holy shit he felt big.

         “Woah now, hang on just a tick,” he spoke like he was trying to soothe a startled horse. This fucking asshole! Why, just why did you have to fall for him? “It is very difficult not to pop a boner when I’m getting up close and personal to the most gorgeous person I know,” he spoke with an immense amount of charm and a surprising measure of sincerity. Your eyes widened comically before you squinted at him with a healthy amount of suspicion. 

         “Oh, really now? And I don’t suppose you’ve used that line with every other person you’ve taken to bed, hm?”

         Johnny just sighed like he was the exasperated one here. “Darling, I’ve been laying it on thick for half a year now. There’s no way I’d still be after you just to get into your pants.” He looked at you with this sort of ‘duh’ expression on his face, like he couldn’t possibly understand your confusion. “I mean, don’t get me wrong: you’ve got just the kind of body that I love,” he added, and you nearly clocked him then and there, but you relaxed again as he spoke further, “but I’ve come to really like spending time with you. There’s never a day that I don’t look forward to working with you on set, you know.” And, just like that, you felt like the stupidest person on the planet for denying yourself something that you evidently could have had for a long time now. 

         You hung your head low and shook it from side to side in disappointment of yourself. You fool. You buffoon. You absolute imbecile. “Oh, you have got to be kidding me.” Johnny took this the wrong way, looking offended, and opened his mouth to say something. However, you were quick to shut him up with a short yet firm kiss of which he wasted no time in returning. He ground his hips against yours in short, desperate thrusts like there would never be another chance to do so, and you eagerly mirrored his movements like they might be your last. Without warning, he rolled the two of you over to flip your positions. Sprawled out beneath him with your hands held beneath his own, Johnny thought you looked like a dream.

         “By the way, I think you’ll find that not only do I fuck as good as I fight, but I fuck like I fight, too—hard n’ fast,” he intoned in a voice nearly an octave deeper. 

         You squirmed in anticipation at his words, and retorted with equal huskiness, “let’s see it then.”

[hier--soir]

under the night | five

pairing: joel miller x f!reader, set in jackson after the end of tlou part I warnings/tags: [18+ only, minors dni] language, plenty of angst, violence, nightmares, Lincoln [lmao], abduction, alcohol consumption. word count: 6.1k part four | series masterlist | main masterlist

Within a fortnight, two more women were missing. The people in Jackson were on high alert. Wary-eyed warnings were whispered around the settlement. People went to work and they went home, day after day. By the time the sun had gone down, doors were locked, and windows latched. Movement on the streets at night was minimal, and wherever people went, they went in groups. Women walked through the town with linked arms and set jaws, eyes darting around rapidly.

As soon as things escalated, the settlement leaders established search patrol groups. All patrolmen would participate in one of two daily searches. Morning and night, a group would go out the gates, hoping to discover a trace of the women. A sign of anything. But Winter persevered, and the cruel snow proved difficult to heed any clues as to where they could have gone – if they’d even left the settlement. It seemed impossible, that anyone would have been able to creep out that tall gate.

A stream of patrolmen wandered in and out of the stables, where you would help to organise horses for the search. You interacted with more people on daily basis than you ever had in Jackson. Often, groups of ten or more would disappear out the gates at a time, and you’d be left with empty stables, mucking stalls and waiting for your horses to return.

The search roster was posted outside the community dining hall every Sunday night, and every time you wandered past it, your eyes would scan the list for his name. Joel and Tommy, Joel and Tommy, Joel and Tommy, Joel and Tommy, every fucking day. And it wasn’t just them. From almost every house, one person had been called upon to participate. If they were competent, able, and willing, they were recruited. 

You didn’t envy Tommy Miller one bit on the day he suggested you join the effort.

It was a few days after Rebecca Lewis went missing, and you were hard at work in the stables, prepping horses for the evening patrol, when you overheard them.

Your ears perked up in recognition of Joel’s muffled voice, hands stilling on Dot’s saddle. The hearing on your left side was still repairing itself, and a faint buzzing enveloped you in moments of quiet. But you’d recognise his voice anywhere, and you strained to make out the words. “Tommy,” he’d said in a low, warning tone. “You better back off. Now.”

“Joel,” the younger man sighed in frustration. The type of sigh someone did after already pleading their case for the entirety of, what you assumed to be, a lengthy conversation. “It makes sense. Just ‘cause you don’t like it, don’t make it untrue.”

“She almost fuckin’ died,” he snapped in response, voice clearer now; closer. “Last time we took her out there, she almost got her head beaten off. Or don’t you fuckin’ remember? Too preoccupied by the idea of having a new soldier in your makeshift army?” 

You ducked down, pulse quickening as you realised the brothers were talking about you. Their footsteps were audible, shuffling around in the gravel as they hung up equipment and ushered the horses into their stalls.

“Watch it,” Tommy ground out. “I was there, don’t you forget. And she held her own, god damnit. She knows how to read the land; how to hunt, how to track. You’re just too fuckin’ scared to risk her.”

“YOU’RE DAMN RIGHT I AM,” Joel boomed suddenly, and the hairs on your arms raised at the change in volume. “I’m fuckin’ terrified. She still can’t fuckin’ hear right, and you want her out there again? For what? So that she can die too? Fat chance, because I’d sooner go out on a patrol every day for the rest of my damn life, then let you send her outside those gates again.”

Silence descended upon the stables, the only audible sound that of his harsh breathing.

After a moment, Tommy said something, but it was too quiet to hear. You strained your right ear, leaning precariously against the wall in an attempt to stay hidden.

“Of course I do,” Joel replied, his voice softening, and you hungered desperately to piece together what you’d missed.

“I’m not tryin’ to hurt you, Joel,” Tommy said calmly. “But I’m goin’ to ask her.”

“And she’ll say yes,” Joel laughed mirthlessly. “She will, Tommy. So go, fucking ask her, but I swear to god she’s not goin’ out of those gates without me by her side.”

They shared a few more soft words, and you grit your teeth in frustration, wishing they would speak up for your benefit. But they’d finished packing up, and you waited with a frown as they departed the stables, leaving you alone in Dot’s stall.

It hadn’t been a hard decision to make. When Tommy approached you the next day, you’d said no, clean and simple. Not purely for Joel’s benefit, either. It warmed your heart to know that he listened to you; he knew it wasn’t his place to make the decision for you. But the truth of the matter was that he was right. You were terrified to go outside the gates, and so you’d never turned down an offer so quickly.

So you and Joel operated on separate schedules, but it set you both at ease to know that you would be staying in Jackson. For those few weeks, you saw him sparingly. Between time spent at the stables, and the daily searches, the pair of you passed like ships in the night.

When you did find yourselves alone, Joel would pull you in close and his hands would roam freely across your body, eager to feel you against him.

“I missed you,” he’d whisper forlornly, pressing desperate kisses into your skin.

“It’s only been a couple of days,” you’d smile, and soon enough all words would escape you as his hands slipped beneath your clothes.

“You’re supposed to say you missed me too,” he’d grunt, and you’d laugh, watching him kiss down your stomach, trailing his fingers along the hem of your pants, before you would relent and breathlessly admit you felt the same way. 

One night you’d waited at his place for him while he was on the evening patrol, and he’d returned a nervous wreck. He’d paced the hardwood floors of his bedroom, ringing his hands together in front of him, muttering about how they still hadn’t found anything.

“There’s no fuckin’ sign of them,” he’d told her. “And even if there was, how would we find it through all that fuckin’ snow. We’re searching day in and day out, and it’s fuckin’ hopeless.”

“Joel,” you tried to soothe him, although your own chest ached with anxiety. “I’m sure something will come up.” It was easier for you to lie in the moment, than pile your cynicisms atop his.

“This place is supposed to be fuckin’ safe. And now suddenly women are disappearing out of thin fuckin’ air?” His boots thudded heavily on the ground, leaving scuff marks and dirt on the wood. Scratching his beard in frustration, he turned to look at you with sorrowful eyes. “I told you it was safe here, that you were safe here, and now,” he paused, gritting his teeth. “Now I don’t even know if that’s true.”

“We don’t even know what happened to them,” you offered. “Maybe they decided to leave.”

But he wouldn’t hear reason, and fell heavily onto the edge of the bed. Joel looked up at you and shook his head slowly. “I need you to be careful. You and Ellie, I can’t… if something happened to one of you,” he cut himself off, hands shaking in his lap. His fingers traced his palms, squeezing every now and then, keeping himself focused,  present.

“Hey,” you whispered, stepping forward and placing a hand over his. His movements stilled instantly, and his wide brown eyes gazed into yours. It felt like everything in the world stopped when those eyes were on you. “I’m always careful. No one’s gonna get the drop on me, I’m a big girl.”

“Darlin’,” he breathed. “I know you’re strong, stronger than half the people in this town. And I know you’re safe with Cal. But if he’s not around, you gotta stay here, with Ellie. Don’t be alone. I need to know you’re somewhere safe when I’m out there. And I-“

“Okay, Joel,” you acquiesced, nodding. You cupped his check in your palm, thumb stroking through his coarse facial hair. “I hear you, I will.”

After what seemed like weeks of self-imposed curfews and endless patrols with no new information turning up, things began to naturally return to normalcy in Jackson. Although the searches persisted, with no new disappearances the sense of fear had begun to settle.

So much so, that when a few of the women at the stables invited you for a drink after work one afternoon, you said yes.

The Tipsy Bison was humid and the walls reeked of history. Picture frames littered the walls, showing faces of people and families who’d lived in Jackson over the years. A framed image of Seth, the bartender, with two of his sons was hung by the bar, displaying the three men with broad grins on their faces. A fire roared in the corner, and small tables were scattered throughout the hall, chairs sprawled around them housing groups of friends chatting and drinking. It was a picture of regularity, and if you squinted, it almost looked as easy as it had beforehand; before the disappearances. But looking closer, a tension lived in people’s eyes; a distinct uncertainty that reared its ugly head when someone unfamiliar approached their table. 

You couldn’t help but feel out of place with the two women. Cath and Louise were kind, and welcoming. They openly shared stories about their lives, and their families. Smiles and laughter seemed to come easy to the pair. With soft, feminine features and long hair, you were sure you stood out like a sore thumb between the pair. All sharp angles, rough edges, and scars, you tried to shake away feelings of inferiority. Alcohol helped. It brought a warm buzz to your body, and lowered your hackles somewhat. When they asked questions about you, you found yourself sharing with more and more ease. You divulged tales about the small settlement in Washington where you and Cal lived as teenagers; about his older brothers who had felt like your own.

You steered clear of sharing that the settlement ended up being raided. That the people of Spokane were slaughtered, their houses looted and burnt to the ground, and that the pair of you barely escaped with your lives, dragged out of the gates and into the wilderness by Cal’s brother Paul. For a year it had been the three of you, working as a tight knit unit to survive. You and Cal were still young, and naïve to the harsh realities of life outside settlement gates. When Paul was bitten, that all changed. You were forced to harden, to face the reality you were forced into, and survive. The decade after you lost Paul had stretched on aimlessly; two nomads wandering the states, with no goal in sight except for survival – until you stumbled across Jackson.

After an hour, a tipsy buzz had taken over your senses, and you found yourself slouched in your chair, laughing naturally with the women as they joked and gossiped about their partners, and other people in town. And only when Joel Miller walked into the room,  did your attention stray.

A delightfully tipsy buzz held you captive by the time you noticed Joel enter the room. The conversation turned to white noise in your ears as you watched him approach the bar. Those old jeans fit him so well, and he wore that brown jacket that showed off how broad his shoulders were. Your mouth was dry suddenly, and you excused yourself from the table, before heading towards him.

You sauntered up on his left and rested your elbows on the bar. “Hey cowboy.”

Joel’s head ticked to the side and a smile formed on his lips. “Howdy.”

He reached out to run his index finger along your forearm, so light you almost didn’t feel it. The small show of affection made you smile, and you shivered.

“How’re Cath and Louise?” he nodded over your shoulder towards the table you’d been sat at.

“They’re good,” you hummed, licking your bottom lip. “Chatty.”

“Chatty is good,” he agreed unconvincingly, and you exhaled a quiet laugh. As his eyes scanned over your face, taking in your demeanour and the way you leaned heavily against the bar top, his grin widened a touch. “You’re drunk.”

You scoffed, eyes widening in defence. “Says who?”

“Says me, drunky,” he bumped his hip against yours softly, and the giggle that fell out of your mouth would’ve embarrassed you in any other moment.

As the barman approached, Joel’s hand fell back and you cleared your throat, attempting to act natural.  

“Joel,” Seth nodded. “What’ll it be?”

“Glass of red.”

As Seth served you your wine, you gave Joel a teasing smile. “Are we sharing?”

He chuckled, “All yours, darlin’. I’m just here to pick up Tommy before we head out.” A pout formed on your lips without your permission.

“Tonight will be fine,” he smirked at you. “Good crew, too. Bet there’ll be more shit talkin’ than actual patrollin’.”

“Wow, very professional,” you nodded into your glass. When Seth had disappeared down the other end of the bar, you slid your hand over Joel’s and ran your fingers over his wrist, trailing towards his forearm. The alcohol had brought a warmth to your stomach that you hadn’t felt in a long time, and all you longed for was to feel his skin underneath yours. To lead him out of the bar and get him into bed.

“Handsy,” he murmured lowly, stepping closer to you, so the warmth of his side pressed into yours.

“Joel Miller,” you drawled, leaning in to place your lips against his ear. “I want you to blow off patrol and come home with me.”

A strangled noise left his mouth, and one of his hands gripped your waist suddenly, thumb pushing into the flesh above your hipbone. Your hand continued its movements, trailing over his watch in the direction of his bicep.

But before your hand could get far, a jarring pain appeared in your finger. Hissing, you pulled back instinctively, holding your hand up to get a better look.

“What’s wrong?” he soothed quietly, eyebrows drawn tight in concern. His hand hovered over your wrist anxiously, but he didn’t actually touch you, wary of causing more pain.

“I cut my finger,” you frowned, glancing down at his wrist. The wrinkle between your brows only deepened as you took in the sight of his watch, the one he wore every day, and found that the glass was splintered and cracked. A small shard had gotten caught in your fingertip, and you plucked it out gently. “Your watch is broken.”

Joel’s face went blank, and you both stared at it for a moment.

“What happened?” you were alert suddenly, the fog in your head clearing as you wondered if something had happened on his patrol the day before.

“Nothin’ happened,” he murmured, shaking his head ever so slightly. “Been broken for a while now.”

“For how long? I never even noticed,” you muttered. “How did I never notice that?”

“It’s alright,” he shrugged, not quite meeting your eye.

“You wear a broken watch?” you asked carefully, after a moment’s hesitation.

“Sentimental value,” is all he said, taking the glass from your hand and stealing a small sip.

Your lips parted to push the matter further, but Tommy’s sudden appearance interrupted the conversation.

He patted Joel firmly on the back and offered you a tight smile. “Alright, old man, let’s get a move on.”

Joel’s eyes flashed apologetically as he handed the wine glass back to you. Leaning into the side of your head, his lips brushed the sensitive skin of your earlobe as he whispered, “Wait for me tonight, okay? I wanna come home and find you in my bed. Promise not to be too late.”

Heat flashed through your stomach, and you wet your lips eagerly, wishing you had the guts to kiss him there, in front of all those people. But he pushed away from the bar and gave you a meaningful stare, saying, “Walk home with Cath and Louise.” So you just replied with a quick nod before watching the brothers walk out the door.

Turning back, you let your eyes wander across the bar, attempting to read the labels on the bottles displayed. Before the outbreak you’d been too young to drink, only ever having tried wine once or twice. The fact that they’d managed to create their own liquor in the settlement never ceased to amaze you, and you were pleased to indulge every once in a while.

As much as you tried not to dwell, you were picturing Joel’s watch in your head.  Surely it hadn’t been broken this entire time? Wracking your brain, you tried to picture it without the large cracks running across the clockface, but you just couldn’t.

A voice came from behind you. “Your man off on patrol again tonight?”

You turned, eyebrows raised, to find Lincoln. “What was that?” 

“Joel,” he nodded his head toward the door. “He’s being going on all those patrols, the searches, right?”

When you didn’t say anything, he chuckled awkwardly and gave a faux shiver, his shoulders raising to his ears. “I could never,” he smiled. “Never was the big, brawny type like those Miller boys. Too scared.”

You gave a slow nod, sizing him up where he stood, small frame shrouded in a large winter jacket. “What can I do for you Lincoln?”

He sipped amber liquid out of a crystal glass and gave a meek shrug. “Thought you might be lonely up here. I so often see you wandering around by yourself.”

Your eyebrow arched once again, the pleasant tipsiness wearing off in his absence. “I’m fine, thanks though, Lincoln.”

“Linc,” he corrected. “Please.”

“I’m fine, Linc.” You couldn’t help the scowl that had fallen upon your face, the good mood Joel brought to your evening long forgotten since he had left.

“Of course,” he backed off, hands raised in the air. “My apologies, I shouldn’t assume things of a woman I don’t know.”

“Right,” you frowned, pushing away from the bar top. “I think I’m gonna go.”

Downing the last of your wine, you left the hall without saying goodbye to Cath and Louise.

From where you stood on the street, you could see the stables down the road, lanterns lighting up the barn for the patrolmen. You thought about going to find Joel; he’d probably still be saddling up, and you could say goodbye to him properly before they headed out. But you thought better of it, and decided going to sleep in his bed was good enough.

Ellie was still awake when you got there, lounging on the couch in a grey hoodie and loose shorts. You noticed a blanket and pillow folded up on the end of it, and wondered briefly what they were for.

“What do you think of tattoos?” was the first thing out of her mouth.

“Tattoos?” you stopped short, your wine soaked brain whirring trying to catch up to her train of thought. “I think they’re fine, why are you asking me about tattoos?”

“I’m thinking of getting one,” she said, not quite meeting your eye-line.

“Ohhhh,” you dragged out the vowel, trying to think of what a responsible adult would say. “Cool, how would you do that?”

“Cat does them,” Ellie said, her eyes lighting up when she realised you weren’t shutting down the idea. Her lips quirked up into a cheeky grin. “Uses a single needle, makes these insane pictures. She’s got loads of ‘em.”

“Cat, huh?” you raised an eyebrow, picking up on what she was subconsciously putting down.

“What?”

“Nothing, nothing,” you shrugged, eyes wide. “You guys are hanging out a lot these days.”

“We’re friends,” she said quickly – almost too quickly, tugging nervously on the drawstrings of her jumper. You backed off.

“Good,” you said, launching yourself onto the couch beside her, happy to get the weight off your feet. “Friends are good.”

“Like you would know,” she teased, digging an elbow into your side. You cringed, glaring at her.

“Fuck you, kid, I have plenty of friends.”

She raised her eyebrows, as if to say, oh yeah?

“You and I are friends,” you huffed quietly. Plucking curiously at the blanket beside you, you changing the subject, asking, “What’s this for?”

“I’ve been sleeping in here,” Ellie told you. “Joel’s been nervous about me being alone in the bungalow at night. If I sleep here he can see me when he gets home, and before he leaves in the morning.”

“That’s good of you,” you murmured earnestly. “Giving him some peace of mind.”

“Can’t have the old man dying of a fucking heart attack,” she joked. “With the way he worries, I wouldn’t be surprised if he dropped any day now.”

As you laid in Joel’s bed alone, the only sound in the house was of rain quietly pattering against the roof. Draped in one of his softest shirts, you curled the blankets around your body, enveloping yourself in his scent, and fell asleep wishing he was beside you.

---

“Your friend can’t help you,” he sneered. “It’s just you and me right now. You’re all mine.”

You squirmed beneath him, hips rearing upward to buck him off. But his knees were planted in the dirt beside you, an arm pinning your hands above your head, hand clamped over your mouth. Harsh, panicked exhales left your nose, and your eyes darted around, trying to see Cal. But it was dark, and his face was all you could make out.

Tears leaked out of your eyes, and he cooed down at you. “Don’t be afraid, this will only take a second.” You could hear someone saying your name, but he consumed your senses, muffling the sound. “Don’t listen to them, stay here with me. I’m gonna keep you here, forever.”

Your eyes snapped open as hands gripped the collar of your shirt, yanking you upward. Instinctively you grabbed the hands and hauled him off you, twisting so he was underneath you, pinned to the bed.

“I’ll fucking kill you,” the words slurred out of your mouth, tongue still heavy with sleep. You were seeing red, and you reached down to wrap your hands around his throat, but an urgent voice made you freeze.

“Fuck, fuck, it’s me, it’s me!” Ellie was shouting, face red as she stared up at you in panic.  

“Ellie,” your voice cracked. Clarity came rushing back to you, and you understood what had happened. Your hands hovered a centimetre above her neck, and her hands still gripped your shirt. Pushing yourself off her, you scrambled to the foot of the bed. “Fuck, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Ellie. I didn’t know it was you, I swear, I-”

“It’s okay,” she panted, sitting up. She said your name so softly, so quietly, like you were a wounded animal she’d found in the forest, and if she made any sudden movements you’d get spooked and make a run for it. “I thought you were suffocating in your sleep or something, so I came in to check on you, I’m sorry I woke you up.”

Shaking your head slowly, you wiped your face hastily. “You don’t have to apologise to me,” you laughed bitterly. “I almost fucking strangled you.”

“Yeah,” she said quietly. “Nightmares again?”

“What do you mean again?” you asked in confusion, still trying to level out your breathing.

“Don’t be mad,” she played with the fraying edge of Joel’s bedsheet. “Joel told me once that you get them pretty bad.” A fresh layer of tears dotted your waterline, and Ellie’s frown deepened. “Maybe he shouldn’t have told me, he was just worried about you, that’s all.”

“I’m not mad, Ellie,” you assured. Hesitantly, you shuffled toward the headboard to rest beside her, and your hand hovered over hers on the sheet. You gave her a chance to pull away in case she was apprehensive you after what you’d almost done. But Ellie didn’t move away. Instead, she reached up and grabbed your hand, interlocking her bony fingers with yours. “I almost…” your voice cracked when you spoke, throat thick with emotion.

“Hey,” Ellie interrupted your train of thought, feigning nonchalance. “Not a scratch on me. I know you would never hurt me.” But her smile didn’t meet her eyes, and you could see a nervousness there; a hint of caution. Because you’d just shown that you even if you didn’t mean to, you could hurt her. Neither of you spoke for a while. You dragged your thumb in small soothing circles over the top of her hand. 

“You don’t have to tell me about it,” she said. The whites of her eyes shone in the dark room as she looked up at you. “But I understand how you feel, I swear. I get them too.”

“You’ve been through a lot,” you said. It wasn’t a question, but a statement. Ellie nodded slowly, and squeezed your hand a fraction tighter. “I can see it in your eyes sometimes.”

“See what?”

“The grief,” you murmured, wiping your cheek. “The fear, the anger. I recognise it because, most days, I feel all those emotions too.”

“I’m tough,” Ellie tried to smile, but it cracked when you frowned at her. “That shit’s in the past.”

“You shouldn’t have to be tough,” your lip twisted angrily. “You shouldn’t know what real pain feels like; not at your age. It’s not fair.”

“Nothing’s fucking fair,” she scoffed, looking away. “It’s just how it is, and we deal. Right?”

“It gets better,” you told her unconvincingly, and attempted a tight-lipped smile. You almost laughed at the irony of your statement as you sat with tear-stained cheeks and bloodshot eyes.

She rolled her eyes and gave a sad chuckle. “Oh yeah? Could’ve fooled me.”

When you didn’t speak again, Ellie shifted forward to rest her head on your shoulder, and slowly draped an arm over your middle.

“You should sleep,” she said. “I’ll wake you up if you start having another nightmare.”

You sniffled quietly, eyes welling up at the promise laden in her words. “Thanks, kid.”

And sleep you did. The darkness took you back into its arms with soft, loving caresses, and it was dreamless. You slept deeply for what felt like hours, until a soft sound in the bedroom made your eyes crack open.

You rose with a start, acutely aware of a tall figure in the doorway.

“Ellie?” you mumbled warily.

“Go back to sleep,” you heard her voice. Blearily, you saw her peak out from behind the figure and give you a sleepy smile before disappearing into the hall.

“It’s okay,” Joel’s voice whispered. The door clicked shut, and he was peeling his clothes off. He slid into the bed beside you in just his underwear, arms wrapping around your body and holding you to his warm chest.

“Joel,” you sighed in relief, sinking into his embrace. “You’re back.”

“I’m back, baby,” his fingers trailed through your hair, tucking a loose strand behind your ear. “I’m back to keep the nightmares away. You can sleep, darlin’. I’ve got you.”

As Joel’s lips ghosted soft kisses across your shoulder, you fell into sleep’s embrace once more. 

--

You woke up alone in Joel’s bed, your hand grazing over the sheet where he’d been laying. It was still warm, signifying he’d only been gone for a short time. Faintly, you could hear him and Ellie chatting downstairs, the smell of eggs floating up the stairs. When you wandered down, still rubbing sleep out of your eyes, you found him sitting alone, nursing a cup of coffee. He gazed absently at the table, tracing a pattern into the wood, and didn’t notice you come in.

For a moment, you stood in the doorway and just stared at him. His greying curls were messy atop his head, strands still pressed down to his scalp from being shoved into his pillow for hours. You wanted to run your hands through them, trace the strands that grew down his neck. It had grown so much in the past month, and you realised you loved how unruly it got.

“Hey,” you said softly, lowering into the chair opposite him. “I thought you’d be off on patrol this morning,”

“No patrol today,” he said lowly, eyes raising from the table to take you in. Something was off, you realised. You couldn’t pinpoint the expression on his face, but he seemed quiet. Sad, maybe.

“No patrol?”

“They’re relaxing the search,” he explained.

“What?” you said sharply. “They haven’t found anything though.”

“And they aren’t going to,” Joel sighed. “It’s been a month. No one else has gone missing, the snow keeps fallin’, and the people are exhausted. It doesn’t make sense to keep going right now. We’d only be wasting resources.”

“Shit,” you ran a hand through your hair, eyes wide.

When he didn’t speak for a few moments, you felt your stomach twist with a type of nervous anticipation. His finger traced the same crack in the wooden table over and over again.

“Is everything,” you hesitated, cringing as his hand stopped its movement abruptly at the sound of your voice. “Is everything okay?”

Joel’s hand flattened on the table, eyes meeting yours again. Seeing his grim expression, the way his mouth was downturned, had memories of the night before slamming into you in a wave. You balked, mouth turning chalky as you summoned the courage to speak again.

“Ellie told you what happened,” is all you could muster.

Joel gripped his mug tightly, and that was all the response you needed to know you were correct. Your tongue darted out to anxiously wet your lips, but your mouth was like sandpaper. He opened his mouth to speak and then closed it just as quick, shaking his head slowly.

“Please say something,” you whispered. You expected anger, but your heart began to pound as you realised that wasn’t what you would get. He looked resigned -  he looked devastated.

He sighed your name quietly, and you felt a crack form in your chest at his despondent tone.

“She’s my responsibility,” he finally said. “She needs to be safe.”

“She is safe,” you whispered, tears wetting your water line.

“She said you had your hands around her neck,” his voice broke on the last word, and he coughed quickly in an attempt to hide it. “Said it was another nightmare.”

It felt like the walls were closing in on you. Everything was too close, too tight. The air felt so thick suddenly, and you were sure you were suffocating. Sweat beaded on your palms and you rubbed them absently into your pants, your chest aching. No, no, no, no, no.

“Joel,” you pleaded. “It was a mistake. I didn’t even know where I was. I thought she was… Joel, I would never hurt Ellie.”

“I know,” he nodded.

“Is she scared of me?” you murmured, holding your breath as you waited for his response.

“That kid thinks the world of you,” he chuckled wetly, and your heart fell as you noticed tears in his eyes. “She’s not scared, she’s worried about you. I’m worried about you.” 

“I’ll get it under control,” you said hastily, desperate to show that you understood, that you knew you’d made a mistake. “I know it can’t go on like this, I would… god if I ever hurt Ellie, or, fuck, or you? I’d never forgive myself, Joel, I promise, nothing like that will ever happen again. I’m so sorry.”

As the last words fumbled from your lips, you realised you were crying. Your cheeks were hot and wet, your chin dripping salty tears onto your shirt. Joel’s hands were on your face, cupping your cheeks and wiping away the tears with his thumbs. “I’ll do whatever I can to keep you both safe, I’ll tie myself to the damn bed at night, I-I’ll try meditation to stop the nightmares, anything.”

“Shh,” he whispered brokenly. “Stop.” Haggard gasps were ripping out of you, and you felt lightheaded.

“Please don’t cry baby, I can’t stand to see you cryin’.”

“Please don’t think I’m a monster,” a sob tore out of your chest. Please don’t hate me. Joel tugged you forward and wrapped his arms around your back, tucking your face into his neck. Please don’t leave.

He shook his head, mumbling your name over and over into your hair as he held you against him. “You’re good,” he assured, his lips peppering delicate kisses against your hairline. “You’re so good it hurts. We can figure this out, okay? But for now, I think it’s a good idea if you stay at your place when I’m not here.”

“Joel, please,” you tried, but he interrupted with a shake of his head.

“Just until we can find a way to get it under control,” he assured. “It’s not forever.”

“It won’t happen again,” is all you said, with a tone of finality.

“It won’t happen again,” he echoed.  

Your day at the stables went by in a daze. Plagued with images of your dream, of seeing your hands hovering over Ellie’s throat. Her pale blue eyes, shining with terror as they looked up at you, desperately yelling your name. The guilt was consuming, and ugly thoughts scratched at the back of your head, burrowing its way into your brain, screaming, you’re a danger to the people you love. You almost killed her. Joel doesn’t want you anymore.

For hours, you shoved yourself into your work, shovelling and saddling and feeding until your freezing hands were aching, and finally you trudged down the street towards your home.

It was dark out already. Only 6 o’clock in the evening, the sun had long since set, and you made your way home by muscle memory alone.

And when you made it to the porch, you found that the lights were on in the house.

Cal, you thought desperately. Thank god.

“Honey I’m home,” you called softly, voice raspy from not speaking all day. It was quiet, but you could hear him tinkering around in the kitchen. You hung your coat up by the door and brushed the snow off your hair, before wandered towards the sound.

“Shame I can’t smell any food,” you muttered teasingly, rubbing your hands together in an attempt to warm them. You entered the room with a small smirk on your face, jeering, “What good is having a house husband if dinner isn’t on the table when I get home?”

“Sorry to disappoint.”

You heart thudded painfully into your stomach. It was true what they say; that in moments of true terror, time stands still. The room was silent as you paused in the doorway. You could've heard a pin drop.

Standing in your kitchen, leaning comfortably against the sink, was not Cal.

“Lincoln,” you breathed. “What are you doing here? Where’s Cal?”

“Who’s Cal?” he tilted his head to the side, taunting you. His thin lips twisted into a sort of mean smile.

Your heartbeat pounded in your ears, like the sound of rushing water. You palms clammed up and your brain told you to run, to get the fuck out of the house, but it was like you had tunnel vison; you couldn’t take your eyes off him, and that leering grin.

“You should get out,” you steeled herself, broadening your shoulders. You were taller than him, and stronger, you’d wager. “I don’t know what you think you’re doing walking into my house like this, but Cal will be home soon, so you should go.”

“Oh, he’ll be home soon?” Lincoln stepped toward you and you stepped back instinctively, shoulder knocking sharply against the doorframe. He smirked. “I don’t think he will be, actually.”

Your face was hot, and you could feel fury begin to bubble in your chest. “Did you hurt him?”

“There, there,” he sneered, taking another step forward. “Don’t go getting hysterical on me now, I thought you were-“

You moved in a split second, not letting him finish his sentence before you’d spun on your heel to dash toward the front door. But a hand was gripping your bicep, and a heavy blow had landed on the back of your head.

A loud ringing filled your ears as you hit the floor, black spots forming in your vision as you stared up at him. He had the handle of a frying pan gripped tightly in his palm.  

Lincoln was speaking, but you couldn’t make out the words. Everything was spinning, and the last thing you saw was him crouching above you, before there was only darkness.

part six

taglist <3

@n7cje @sarahhxx03 @missgurrl @nrmnie @casa-boiardi @ghostofjoharvelle

[book--wyrm]

Pengu Finale Liveblog ahhhhhh

Julian just absolutely brain blasting this old woman

Oh Rex is close enough to call her doll and make her breakfast he is not beating the deadbeat daddy allegation

OH NO DOES SHE KNOW OH MY GOD SHE KNOWS

NEVERMIND I WAS SO WRONG ABOUT EVERYTHING SHE HAS KNOWN ALL ALONG

holy shit holy shit holy shit

okay so they did find the bodies eventually holy fuck hooooooly fuck

oh my god rex literally teaching francis how to manipulate oz and use him oh my god ohhhhh my god this is so much more of a betrayal than if francis had just hated him for what he'd done

she knew all along she knew all along and she used him and she

she

oz was right ahahahahah every relationship in his life is fuckign transactional because he KILLED THE ONLY TWO BOYS WHO TRULY LOVED HIM, AND KILLED HIS MOTHER'S LOVE WITH THEM

dude he has to kill his mother now

this is a psychological nuke the likes of which i think sofia could not possibly have ever imagined.

Francis's FACE oh my god.

Julian baby boy maybe Sofia should stand out of sight to not break immersion

God this is absolutely not how hypnotism works is it

IT'LL BE EASIER NOW YOU LITTLE PSYCHO

"I see you in ways other people don't" while she is ACTIVELY USING HIM

dude. dude. I just. It's always the same with Oz, isn't it. Sofia, Eve, his mom. He's the biggest bullshitter in Gotham, and he's so full of it he doesn't have a clue how to sniff it out

God they are both so horrific to each other. Just his horrible cycle of selfishness and toxicity what a twisted family they are

HELLO VIC I MISSED YOU

Oh rip lmao I guess the gangs know the bliss is all gone

Vic baby he's saying all the same stuff oz does, only he believes it, so he can't bullshit people to his side

Oh hey that dude on the other side of the walkie talkie lived!!

Man Oz and Sofia haven't been face to face since ep 4 hahahaha

BERTO MENTION. she hasn't used that name in a hot second

Oh my god Sofia literally using that bird nest metaphor ahahahh whoever that anon was in my inbox you are a genius

Man. Sofia literally just laying out all their horrible family drama in the worlds worst family therapy oh my god

Dude I've been saying for weeks now that Sofia's superpower is to completely shatter people with the truth and. ohhhhhh my god ohhhhhh my god ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

Wait. Is Sofia going to give that cigar cutter in her cleavage to Francis to use on Oz. I think she should give it to her.

Uh. Nevermind

Wow Sofia really is leaning into this evil therapy thing what the fuck. girl.

God i desperately want her to be the girl-jonkler running the aslume at the end of this show please please please

Also Sofia, I think it was the left. I mean I'm sure she knows just so she can do the other one next, but. man. she is fuckin sadistic. im love....

Julian so enthusiastic about all of this hahaahah

I love Sofia like, almost framing this to them or possibly herself as a gift she is giving to Francis. Is this cope? Is this something she sincerely believes? Or is she just being cruel?

I ALREADY FUCKIN KNOW

It's my finger you spineless prick hahahaahha but that doesn't matter to him because its your love he wants it's your adoration your pride and what actually happens to you? Doesn't fucking matter.

I NEVER STOPPED HATING YOU

Sofia's face right then like. damn dude. god i love her

She had enough love for all of them and he soured every last drop of it. For them, for him, for the world.

Sofia really does know the value of just letting a drama play out.

Francis saying Sofia is right this ep, Sofia saying Francis was right last ep, damn.

Oz really is... the only character in this show chronically incapable of learning

Damn mama cobb strong enough to smash a bottle. I don't think even i could do that.

Oh my god no wonder she said "they look at me like i'm not even theirs" because in her mind, she let their murderer go free

also is oz gonna hulk out that she's showing love to an imaginary jack and benny when oz has just seen her hate?

Oh is she just dying right now

Julian doing the get down mr president

MR DETECTIVE YOU DIPSHIT

Sofia baby you did great okay you already hurt Oz please just go to italy with your boy toy

Wow is he not getting this fucking stab looked at

EW EW EW EW

Yeah sure sure. Sofia stabbed you. Sure. Sure.

Oh noooo. Vic... baby.... he is such a believer in Oz's stupid self serving bullshit. He is so good. And pure. And he speaks from the heart and. And Oz acts like this is something Vic rehearsed

And they laugh about it but Vic doesn't understand. He doesn't understand that Oz isn't giving him advice on how to most effectively show people the fire you hold in your heart—he's teaching him the art of smoke and mirrors. how to con and grift and bullshit until even you don't know what's true and real

Christ. Vic is so fucking dead

She'd never look at me again unless i get this done.

Oz knowing now that this love is transactional. And fine. He'll make that transaction, he'll take down sofia and then maybe his mom will pretend again that she doesn't hate him, doesn't want him dead

it's not going to work, of course. it can't because this show is about him becoming the penguin. and it can't, because even that transaction was always a lie Francis told herself

I don't think she could ever have loved Oz even if he'd gotten her into a penthouse at age 20. I think she lied to herself to survive living with him, because what was the alternative? Losing all three of her boys?

AHAHAHAHAHAH SOFIA LITERALLY PICKING UP OZ'S GOLD SUMMIT MEMBERS i have to say. I did not anticipate this at ALL

damn girlie really is just gonna dip to go to italy or wherever

sofia really is just setting up the funniest game of capture the flag imaginable while cramming like seven olives in her mouth

i dont' say this often. i desire her carnally.

The gun in the glove compartment surely that will not come back later

Oz originally checking his image in the reflection of the car vs asking Vic now, treating this kid as his reflection

Damn. Is Link really going to fall for Oz's shit again after that truck of cigs thing? Or is this just a ploy to get Oz into the right place for Sofia to pick him up?

Actually maybe that's what loses Vic, that Link betrayed him, and Oz expected it. Idk we shall see

Penguin planning to run for mayor in a couple movies?

Oh Oz is totally gonna send sofia to arkham ahahaha poor baby

Oh my god I thought Sofia was gonna claim credit for Sal's death, not that Oz would give it up himself

I cannot tell you guys how fucking tempting it is to skip right to the end of this episode to see if i'm right you guys

Wow Oz really eyeing that Mayor's office

Is he going to kill Bella and frame Sofia. Is he gonna kill bella and THAT is what turns Vic on him.

oh my god LINK

HAHAHAH I WAS SO RIGHT SHE IS BURNING DOWN FALCONE MANOR

oh god that's the watch Sofia gave him for his birthday FUCK YOU CARMINE

Sofia really is gonna fucking screw over EVERYONE hahaha THREE CIGS BABY

oh god she is so hot i love her you self actualize through arson baybeeeeeeee

that shot of her throwing the cig like a dart is so much oh my god

babygirl i love you

you deserve the world

but yeah she is going into the cold according to the needle drop. definitely going back to arkham

... what's in the trunk. i don't think it's normal luggage. is it more bombs

there is still 20 mins left. i am afraid

This is clearly a trap for someone i just don't know who. Where is vic

I'm so afraid this is the last we get to see of Sofia.

She knows. She always has such a nose for bullshit lmao. Also fuck you Link you gotta know Oz is gonna stab you in the back.

I do think it's promising that Julian has not been seen all day tho. What is he doing.

I love this. I love that Oz and Sofia finally get this one moment to be truly honest with each other.

Well. At the very least, Oz gets to be honest with Sofia. idk that he knows how to be honest with himself anymore.

Why does this look like a chemical factory. I know it's not happening but it'd be so funny for Sofia to become the joker right now.

just dunk her in the goop

Man. Is he actually going to shoot her. Police pls come and save my girl. Cannot believe that's what I'm begging for now.

oh my god

yeah i called it but. Man. This is so painful to watch. also i think my julian prayers are not going to be answered it did not look like Sofia had planned any of this

okay i'm normal about sofia being arrested now.

Okay. I'm normal.

I'm back to not being normal francis and vic and oz all in one place this is all gonna blow up emotionally

Is francis in a coma. is she totally brain dead oh my god.

oh man she really is never going to say she loves him hahaha

she let jack and benny's murderer go and it never got her anything

is he gonna kill her now.

TELL ME YOU'RE PROUD OF ME oz you fuckin

he's so fucking delusional jesus putting her hand on his head

dude. is Vic actually gonna live through this episode

holy fuck

did not call that in the least

well. i was right about the pyrrhic victory for Oz

"All kinds of things" shut the fuck up.

God. I cannot believe Vic is living through this show. Admittedly as the kind of guy that his parents would have been ashamed of, but.

Wait. No no

don't

don't do it

no nondfonfodnfodnfodfn

please dont

pelase dont

oz don't you dare

nONONNNONONONONONONONONONONONO

PLEASE DOJNT DO IT NOW PLEAE

NO NO HE IS THEO NLY ONE WHO HAS SEEN THE WEAKNESS AND HUMAN IN YOU

OZ YOU

OZ

NO

WITH YOUR HANDS???? WITH YOUR FUCKIGN HANDS???? I THOUGHT HE WOUDL PULL A GUN AT LEAST YOU FUCKING

ODSOFANDFONSODNOSDAGNOGNIOAGDSASGJDISGNAGLNFGOSANFOSDO

SANO

NON NO NONONONO

VIC

vic. vic. vic barely lived a month longer than his family

all that good heart and he just. enabled a monster to rise to power. to make gotham worse

HE'S MUGGING HIM

YOU PIECE OF SHIT YOU PIECE OF FUCKING SHIT YOU BASTARD YOU

i

i

and the water takes him too.

JULIAN

oH MY GOD I WAS RIGHT AHHAAHHAHAHA

JULIAN

I WAS RIGHT ABOUT SOFIA GETTING MARRIAGE PROPOSALS HAHAHAHAHAH

SELINA KYLE???????? HELLO??????????????

bro.... oh my god..... this is....

I'm so happy.........

sofia smiling... sofia finding a new family member....

nvm i am so glad my original theories were wrong this is way better than anything i could have hoped for

oh my god

ohhhhh my god he actually is keeping his mom in a vegetative state.... exactly what she begged him not to do.......

she knows.... she knows... some part of her is aware in there ahahahahah

you should have let Rex kill him all those years ago

oh my god EVE???? EVE GIRL GET OUT BEFORE HE KILLS YOU TOO

oh no please tell me he never learned what happened with sofia and eve

hes literally just calling her ma. fuck me. mayeb that means eve is safe for now

NOT THE BATSIGNAL

[vegaseatsass]

My Stand-In Episode 9

I have like 10min to ejaculate some emotions before I have to run again so lmfao /types hard and fast I adore that after twisted coercive action after twisted coercive action, Ming almost almost almost had his Kinn moment where he lets Joe go. He came SO close. But he couldn't stick the landing. He's going twisted coercion to the VERY END, BABY!!! And I do think in many ways that's a clue about whether he would have been able to let Joe go when he asked in the first life, before the baseball bat, if Joe hadn't gotten the call from Sol and given Ming a justification for spiralling into delululand. I really do think he was close to hearing Joe then too, and honoring his desperate requests to let go. But "close" means letting him walk across the street and then chasing him, not actually releasing his grip. Ming will always be so very Ming <3

Wut pissed me off throughout this ENTIRE episode but I am trying not to relapse to "the NARRATIVE doesn't UNDERSTAND what it's DOING" reactions to characters with his framing and actually just take what's on the screen in good faith. And what's on the screen is a man who never truly acknowledged his own role in getting Joe killed, doomed to make all the same choices and mistakes all over again. While carrying himself with so much unearned self-righteousness and avuncular "wisdom", augh I hate him but yeah. He thinks what he did wrong in Joe's first life is like not yell at him hard enough to keep him from driving off a cliff. Not push an abused, financially desperate man into further isolation with nary a moment of considering trying to support him or even just giving him companionship for the night while he recovered from being fuckin kidnapped. So yeah, it's not surprising he's consistently making the easy choices, the "it's not REALLY my problem" choices, that put Joe back in Ming's grasp again and again. Like okay thank you as a plot device Wut (yes I am a sick and twisted hypocrite lmao), but fuck you fuck you fuck you as a human being.

However! SOL THIS EPISODE! Oh my god this is why I needed to quickly post! The duality of this character! I made FUN of Ming for thinking that Soljoe as a branded pair was any kind of threat, but episode 9 Sol was like "no actually. Audience shipping is reality if we try hard enough to make it be so." The way the lines are so blurred for him between just desperately desperately wanting to be there for Joe and desperately desperately wanting Joe to see that Ming is the wrong choice and Sol is the right choice, and I have strong doubts about how fully conscious the latter is - he knows he still wants Joe, sure, but I think he sees his (nonexistent, sorry baby) romantic eligibility as an opportunity to get Joe away from Ming. If Joe had a partner who wasn't violent and dangerous, I truly believe Sol would back off while harboring his feelings more quietly. But if Joe is single or with Ming? Sol has to try with everything he's got and cannot see the ways that that compromises his support for Joe.

And yet! EVERY time he called out Wut for facilitating Mingjoe (SERIOUSLY WHAT THE FUCK WUT) I was cheering for him. Helping Joe with (Joe-on-Joe) crimes??? Being his lookout??? The crowd ROARED! And there's something to be said for Joe in the middle of the grieving process for his body and life, and Sol being the one who comes by to accompany him the next morning. Again, it's that duality: he is coming because they have a music video to promote, he is coming because he's giddy about selling them as a branded pair and maybe making Joe see him as a romantic option. But being very frank, I think it matters that Joe had someone who knew what happened and knew he was in the middle of grieving be there at his side that morning. I don't think he struggled to wake up when Ing shook him because he was sleepy. I think he was carrying something a lot heavier than that, and you need community to help you carry that burden. And there's nobody trying to or thinking of offering that for Joe except Sol. For partly selfish reasons, again, that's the juice of the character, that that duality is always present for him, but for ME it still matters as a kind of material support.

Lastly, the little glimpse of Yim being bitter and fucked up about Joe's death, and how that went over Joe's head, because he doesn't expect his CHILDHOOD FRIEND to remember him and grieve him. Delicious little detail.

[augustghosts]

Useful

Tommy Miller x Fem!reader

Part two of Plastic Trees.

Thank u for the love on part one <3 I’m excited to keep writing this story! I wanted to focus more on tommy and readers' relationship in this so had to get rid of everyone else lmao, anyways. <3

Word Count: 4.1k

Warnings: 18+! Fingering. Choking. Unprotected PinV. Lots of dirty talk. Kinda dom!tommy. He's a lil rough, but we like him that way, don’t we? Maybe breeding kink if you squint. Slight size kink? Idk I just like to talk about how tall Tommy is. This is like violence from the get go lol. Guns and a few graphic descriptions. Lots of swearing. Lots of pet names, bc i just feel like tommy is the type to use them every other sentence lmao. It gets a little fluffy and awkward at the end. This is also looong as fuck (sorry). Not proofread as always.

Tommy is, rudely, jolted awake by someone aggressively shaking him.

“Dude! Get the fuck up!” An equally aggressive voice hisses beside him. His eyes snap open to a gun pointed right between his eyes. Before he can even process who is on the other side of the weapon, the person holding it is taken down. A loud gunshot rang out from the side of him - Joel. His saviour, of course.

“Come on!” Joel yells.

Tommy shoots up and joins Joel in crouching beside the couch. He doesn’t have time to process what is happening- more shouting and gun shots sound from throughout the house.

“Shit.” Tommy whispers. “I gave my gun to that other asshole.”

He looks around frantically, his eyes landing on the body of the man Joel had just shot. Tommy crawls over and swipes up the gun that had been pointed at him just seconds earlier,

“What the fuck is this?” He asks.

“No fuckin’ clue.” Joel responds. “All i know is we gotta get the fuck out of here. We’re close enough to the door. We can wait for a window- fuck those other guys.”

Tommy nods - he only has one thing on his mind. He looks behind him to the basement door, it’s still closed.

“What about the basement?” He asks as casually as he can.

“Fuck her. I don’t give a shit.” Joel doesn’t even look at him as he responds. “She’s probably the reason they’re here.”

“I don’t think so. These don’t look like the guys who hired us, Joel. Raiders probably.”

“And?” Joel is still scoping out the house. His eyes darted around. “She’s probably dead already. Someone might have already gone down there.”

“So we should go check! We can still get paid!”

“Fuck that.” Joel hisses. The house is suddenly quiet. “Let's go!”

Joel heads to the front door. Tommy is still staring at the basement. Fuck it, he makes a split second decision. The image of the way she looked at him last night and how soft her hands felt flicker through his mind, and his legs almost work on their own as he heads to the door. Whoever had broken into the house is upstairs now, he probably only has a few seconds until they clear up there and come down here.

He storms down the steps, what the fuck is he doing? He thinks about what Joel said - she’s probably dead already. Shit, he hopes not. He reaches the bottom of the stairs and he’s praying that he doesn’t get down there to see something awful. He breathes a sigh of relief when his boots hit the concrete at the bottom and he sees her curled up in the corner. Her knees pulled up to her chest, her head on her knees. She looked adorable.

“Hey! It’s me.” He says. Her head shoots up, her eyes have that fearful look again. The one that got him so fucking hard yesterday. He has to resist hauling her up into his arms.

“What’s happening?” Her voice sounds small.

“Get up.” He spared another look up the stairs and held his hand out to her. “We need to go. Right fucking now.”

She looks between him and his hand, she’s hesitant. Honestly, she feels like she can’t figure him out. Is he really saving her or is he following his brother’s orders again, and taking her out there to kill her. Are the guys that hired her here? Is that where he’s taking her?

“Now!” He practically orders her. His voice was loud and stern. He notices the way her breathing hitches before she reaches out to take his hand. He pulls her up and turns back to the staircase.

“Stay behind me, okay?” He says. She does as she’s told, which he fucking loves. More gunshots that sound too close for comfort have him pausing in his tracks. Tommy jumps as a body collapses at the top of the stairs, she squeaks behind him as blood from the man's head trickles down the stairs.

“Okay, uhm.” He turns to her. “New plan.”

“Could you get yourself through that window?” He asks as his eyes land on the small window in the corner. It’s not tiny, probably small enough for her to fit through.

“Yeah. Yeah I think so.” She looks over and nods. He walks over and looks through. The window is high, eye level. The coast looks clear and he hurries to stack some boxes under the window and call her over. “Get through and when you’re outside, wait there. Don’t move.”

“Wait! Where are you going?” She asks frantically, her hands grasping the sleeve of his coat like she had done last night.

“It’s okay. I’m gonna go upstairs and I’ll come get you.” He gently pries her hand off of his sleeve. “It’s okay. I promise.”

Fuck, as much as she doesn’t want to do this, as she looks up into his big brow eyes she nods. She trusts him. He nods back and when he realizes he’s still holding her hand he drops it - much to her disappointment. He turns and goes up the stairs, he’s gone before she can even blink.

What the fuck? She’s shocked for a moment, but a loud crash from upstairs springs her into action. She climbs up onto the boxes Tommy had stacked and pushes the old rusty window open. Shit, she really hopes it is Tommy that finds her out here and not anyone else. Once she’s on the other side, she realizes this is the first time she’s been outside in weeks. It’s sunrise and she can’t help but stare at it. The sky looks beautiful. If it was someone else who finds her out here, she wouldn’t mind dying while looking at this.

A pair of gloved hands clamp down on her shoulders and she jumps, whirling around ready to… fight? She doesn’t know how to fucking fight. But she doesn’t need to when she lays her eyes on Tommy. He’s staring at her, thinking about how beautiful she looks outside. He’d only really seen her in the basement, guilt hits him as he thinks about it. He hates how much he wants to kiss her - he’d gotten so close last night.

“Where are we gonna go?” She asks.

He doesn’t know. He stays silent as he looks around - they need to get out of here. He takes her arm and pulls her forward to start walking. She accepts her fate and follows him. Despite their rendezvous last night, she was still scared of him. He had still been an accessory to kidnapping her, she doubts that him coming in her mouth had changed anything.

“So, what did you save me for?”

They’d been walking for a while, Tommy knew where they were heading. An empty house he’d scoped out a few weeks prior. A safe house, if you will. He knew it was safe, his mind was reeling when he heard her voice behind him.

“What?” He doesn’t look behind him. He’s walking much faster than her and he can hear how fast she’s walking to keep up.

“Did you bring me out here to kill me? Or are they meeting you out here?”

“Who?” He asks. He turns slightly, she looks up at his gorgeous side profile.

“The people who hired you. Was that them at the house? What happened to the other guys? Your brother?”

“I don’t know.” He sighs. He doesn’t know which one of her questions he’s answering. Why did he save her? He doesn’t fucking know. He hears her sigh behind him, a small oh leaves her mouth. They keep walking for a while and she keeps quiet. Watching him walk - his broad shoulders and his leather gloves that cling to his large hands. The gun he has slung over his shoulder. She’s thinking about how she’s sure he was going to kiss her last night. She’s sure of it. Remembering how he had caught her above the stairs and how his hand had covered her mouth. He was so confusing, he had touched her last night and saved her this morning- now he was walking ahead acting as if he was burdened by her.

She takes the hint and stays quiet. When they reach the house, it looks the same as all the rest. Run down, plants taken over and growing up the walls. She had always thought that was beautiful. Nature taking things back. Tommy unlatches the rusty gate, kicking some leaves from the overgrown lawn out the way. She follows him in, he turns before they reach the door. He’s looking around - looking for someone following them. Because knowing Joel, he would. He has to use some force to push open the door, his gun is pointed forwards and he walks around the rooms with it - she just watches. He walks around for a while, looking through cupboards and trying to make a small fire in the fireplace. The windows are all boarded up so no one can see the fire, it makes the her feel a little claustrophobic but she’s grateful because it is fucking freezing.

“We’re safe, for now.” He says, swinging the gun off his shoulder and placing it down. “We’re gonna stay here tonight. We’ll get movin’ tomorrow.”

“Okay.” She sits on an old couch. “Where?”

“You ask a lot of fuckin’ questions don’t you?” He says.

“I-i just want to know what’s going on.” Tears fill her eyes, she looks away from him. She is not gonna cry in front of this motherfucker again.

“I know of a place.” Tommy continues. He hates to admit seeing her cry does something too him. The same thing it did to him last night. “A community, I know some people there. Joel is probably making his way there too. Might take us a while to get there though.”

She nods at him. He takes a step towards her, he’s towering over her now. He always does, but the fact that she’s sitting down makes him look even bigger - and her even smaller.

“So, if you want to come with me and if you want me to keep you safe, you’re gonna have to be good. You’re gonna have to trust me. And follow my rules.”

She just nods again, dumbly looking up at him with wide eyes. He steps forward some more, standing directly in front of her now. He lifts his hand to grasp her chin, tilting her face up to look at him. The warm leather of his gloves made her melt into his grasp, his long fingers cupping her jaw.

“Can you do that?” He whispers, his voice gets lower and raspier. “Use your words.” He says when she nods again.

“Yes.” She whispers. “I can be useful.”

“Oh yeah?” He smirks. “How?”

“Whatever you want.” She says. “I’ll follow your rules. I’ll do whatever you want.”

“Fuck baby.” He utters. His raspy voice makes her stomach swirl and heat spreads between her legs.

“Was I not useful last night?” She asks as she reaches for his belt. “Do you want it again?”

“Help yourself, gorgeous.” He spurs her on. His hand that was cradling her face moves to her hair as she takes his cock out of his jeans. He’s already semi hard just from teasing her, but he suddenly remembers something he had said last night.

Her hands wrap around his length and he sighs as he lets her jerk him off a few times. Her mouth is watering, but before she can lean forward and take him into her mouth his other hand comes down to cradle her head. He tilts her head up to look at him again and says, “You know what? I believe I made you a promise last night.”

“Huh?” She’s confused. The only thing on her mind being his cock and the heat between her thighs - the thighs Tommy cannot wait to get in between .

“We were interrupted yesterday.” He says, using his grip on her face to pull her up to a standing position. “I recall telling you that you deserved to be touched. Since you were so good, and you’ve been very good today.”

He leaned in, their mouths inches away - mirroring their position from last night. Fuck it, she takes one for the team and leans up to press her lips to his. Both of their lips are dry from being outside in the wind all day but neither of them seem to care. Tommy kisses her back with a passion, like it's his last kiss. She moans into his mouth when his tongue pushes between her lips and he thinks he could have come right then and there.

“Jesus darlin’, you sound beautiful.” He pulls away to grip her ass, hauling her up into his arms, her legs wrap around his waist and he presses a kiss to her neck before he sets her down onto the couch. “I wanna hear you making those sounds all damn night.”

He climbs on top of her, kissing her feverishly again. Now he’s started he feels like he can't stop. It's been too long since he'd been kissed like this. Her warm mouth is a delightful contrast to the cold world outside, and as much as he wants to feel that warm mouth wrapped around his cock again he cant help but want to give in to the soft spot he has for her. And so he does. He begins to kiss down her neck, standing up to strip his jacket off begins a trail to her legs.

Even with the fire, the house is too cold to completely strip - so this will have to do. Besides, neither of them want to get caught in here and not be able to escape quickly. As much as he wants to kneel down between her thighs and make her legs shake, he knows he’s going to have to wait. He pulls her jeans down just enough to be able to slip his hand into her underwear. A breathy moan of his name that she lets out, when he reaches her wetness, hits his ear and makes him shiver. She feels it, and she can also feel how hard he is against her thigh.

“You’re already soaked, sweetheart.” He whispers before biting into her earlobe, she moans as he circles her clit. “You’re gonna have to be quiet for me baby. Can you do that?”

She nods as he pushes a single finger inside of her. His finger pauses as he hums a “hm?” into her ear, lifting his head to look into her eyes. He wants her to answer, wants to hear her voice shake. She looks so small under him, caged into the sofa. He wants to fuck her so badly but he loves to tease. He wants to hear how pretty she sounds when she begs.

“Yes!” She sounds breathless, moving her hips to try and get him to do something.

“What do you want? Hm? Ask me.”

“More! Please, Tommy.” She moves her hips again as she speaks.

“Yeah?” He sounds so condescending as he slides a second finger into her and begins to stroke her walls. God hes an asshole, she fucking loves it. He loves it too. He has a huge grin on his face as he builds up a rhythm with his fingers. Watching her reactions closely as she writhes underneath him.

“I want you to come all over my fingers.” He says, his other hand coming up to grip her face - his fingers squeezing her cheeks, forcing her to look at him. “And then im gonna fuck the shit outta you. I’m gonna make you feel so fucking good.”

His fingers are still moving, they feel so perfect inside of her and she can feel a heat building in her stomach. She reaches up to claw at his arm, he’s confused for a second and almost stops what he's doing, even though he can feel her pussy squeezing around his fingers, before he realizes what she wants.

“Holy shit.” He grins as he moves his hand to grip her throat. Her moans get louder, the sight of her being choked by his hand almost makes him finish in his pants. “You’re so fuckin’ dirty baby. You gonna come for me so i can fuck you?”

“Yes!” She whimpers, “I want you so bad, Tommy.”

The groan he lets out at her words is enough to have her moaning his name as she finishes around his hand, his grip on her throat tightens just enough to make her feel a little lightheaded. She doesn’t remember anyone ever making her feel this good. What a fuck up, the man who kidnapped her in an apocalypse is the one to give her the best orgasm of her life with just his fingers - and he hasn’t even fucked her yet.

“Oh my god, Tommy.” She laughs. He laughs too, it’s beautiful. She almost forgets about the situation they’re in.

“Stand up for me, baby.” He presses one last kiss to her lips before he stands up, she follows - waiting for him to do something. His large hands cradle her waist and maneuvers her so she's standing in front of him. His strong back pressed to her chest, the arm of the couch is in front of her and one of his hands pressed on the small of her back to bend her over the couch.

She can’t believe this is happening right now, neither can he. They're both basically fully clothed, she's bent over a dirty couch in a run down house. The fire is still crackling beside them when he pushes into her without warning. She surges forward, grasping the couch in front of her as she sighs his name.

“So fuckin’ tight, babygirl.” He moans from behind her, hissing through his teeth.

“Please move, Tommy.” She hisses, “You feel so good.”

“I’m gonna fucking ruin you baby.” He sighs as he begins to thrust into her. Her pussy squeezing him is almost too much. It’s been way too long, given that it’s hard to find someone to fuck in the apocalypse. She looks so good bent over in front of him.

“I can’t wait to fuck you properly.” He says, his fingers grip her hips harder as he speeds up his thrusts. “Can’t wait to have you naked in front of me, I’ll fuckin’ worship you, darlin’.”

His words go straight to her pussy, intensifying the fire growing in her stomach. Her hand reaches down to rub her clit, her hand at an awkward angle since her jeans still weren’t pulled all the way down. Just enough for Tommy to be able to fuck her.

“What do you need, baby? Ask for it.” He says when he notices her hand, stopping his movements all together.

“Please don’t stop.” She whines below him. “I’m so close!”

“Yeah?” He grinds into her, relishing in the way she whimpers below him. “You wanna cum?”

“Yes! Please, Tommy!”

He grabs a handful of her hair and tugs, pulling her up so her back is pressed tight to his chest. It completely changes the angle of his cock inside of her and she whimpers his name in a way that makes his cock ache. He wraps his whole arm around her neck and she brings her hands up to grip his bicep.

“Beg for it.” He whispers into her ear.

“Please.” She whispers. Moving her hips to try and get him moving.

“Pathetic.” He says, squeezing his arm tighter around her neck. “You can do better.”

“Please make me cum, Tommy. I need it.” Her voice is strained from the pressure he’s putting on her throat. He thinks she’s never sounded sexier. “I wanna feel you cum. I want you to fill me up, please.”

“Jesus,” He snarls as he begins to slam back into her. “I wish I could, baby. You’d look so sexy with my cum dripping out of you. You’d love that wouldn’t you?”

“Yes!” She cries, “Yes, I'd love it! Please!”

“Don’t worry baby, I've got you. Come on, cum for me.”

She does as he says, as always. And finishes around his cock with a scream of his name. He thrusts into her a few more times and pulls out of her, shoving her forwards into the couch. She doesn’t question him as he slams his hands onto her shoulders and turns her around to roughly shove her to her knees in front of him.

“Open your pretty mouth, baby.” He groans breathlessly, his hand fisting his cock. The sight of him getting himself off with his hand makes a new wave of wetness rush between her thighs. She obediently opens her mouth and sticks out her tongue, looking up at him and watching as his brows knit together as he comes. The moan that leaves him is delicious and actually makes her feel proud of herself. His cum lands on her tongue and he pants at the sight before him.

“You look beautiful like this, fuck.” He says. He’s out of breath - now Tommy likes to believe that he has good stamina. But he also believes that the sight before him would be enough to make anyone breathless.

She remembers how he had told her to swallow the night before, and she brings her tongue back into her mouth to let his seed drip down her throat. He’s shocked. And he’s still kind of hard and honestly, he wants to fuck her again. But he remembers the world he’s in, and remembers they will need to get moving in the morning. So he cradles her jaw in his hands and guides her up to her feet. Tilting her head up to kiss her deeply. It’s almost soft, almost loving.

When they pull away neither of them know what to say. They stare into each other's eyes for a second and she almost looks like she wants to say something but Tommy beats her to it.

“So, uhm,” He begins to tuck his cock back into his pants as he speaks. “So, we’ll get moving in the morning. You should get some rest.”

He’s awkward again, her heart breaks as she watches him revert back to the man who had kept her in the basement. The man who had just fucked her slowly fading into the darkness.

“Oh, yeah. Sure.” She mumbles, doing the button on her own jeans back up.

“I’ll keep watch for a bit, but uh - we should be fine.” He sits down on the couch, reaching for the gun he had put down and props it up beside him on the couch. He sits back and spreads his thighs as he gets comfy. She doesn’t really know what to do. She kind of just stands and stares at him. He looks at her and stares back for a good few seconds. Why the fuck was this awkward? He sighs and reaches his arm out to her.

“Come here.” He says, a lot softer than she’s ever heard him sound before. She takes the hint and steps timidly towards the couch, sitting down beside him and letting him wrap his arm around her. He guides her head to his shoulder. They sit there for a minute in a comfortable silence. He shocks her, yet again, when he reaches down to pick up her jacket and places it over her body like a blanket. She feels like she has whiplash right now - what the fuck is going on?

“Stop thinking. Go to sleep.” He says, his hand squeezes her shoulder and she cuddles up to him. The same thing is going through Tommy’s head. What the fuck was he doing? He can tell her to stop thinking all he likes, but he can’t stop himself. And that’s what he does for most of the night until he sees the soft light of the day begin to stream through the crack underneath the door - he thinks.

[nanami-is-nanamean]

for literal years (i have no sense of time, its honestly probably just half a year but i could be horrifically wrong—i blame covid for destroying it), i have had this... au. where i just. put nanami. in hsr.

like—instead of caelus or stella being the mc, nanami is and thats whats hes been doing all those years when he was away from sorcery. i do hc that he spent at least one year as a salaryman to get that signature "my soul has been sucked out by capitalism" look and "we should reform society to be better" mindset lmao

i imagine that like—the way it works is that everything happens roughly the same in the main story, its just the little minute differences that change kinda like how everyones playthru of hsr is slightly different because we chose diff dialogue options or whatever

so like—he goes thru belobog, goes thru the xianzhou, goes thru penacony, and then all the side quests, and thats when he decides to go back home (did i base it off my own hsr progress? haha... yeah. lmao)

i dont know who exactly he goes down back to earth with but i do have this one scene in my head where he meets up with himeko. and as much as i like the idea of him going down alone, i dont think the express is gonna let him lmao. best i can imagine is march and welt. welt because this is the most similar to his old home of hi3 (which i want to play so bad but alas i have a life), and march because she serves as a nice contrast to the low energies of nanami and welt AHAHA

i did consider benching her since shes been going to expeditions nonstop but like—the contrast gotta b there honey, thats what you call good writing and good character dynamic lmao. but yeah—he goes down, calls up gojo, and welt and march go off to fuck about.

i imagine that gojos fuckin stunned to see him after so many years because like—he was working a dead end job and then one day he fucking disappears. and it would scare gojo too since like, his entire thing is being able to see things, to percieve things, and as op as gojo is, im p sure he isnt able to see far enough to find nanami in the cold and dark depths of space. all he knows is—he was there, and then, his cursed energy disappears like a candle that went out. all he can assume is that he died or some curse users got to him. but if he died, a sorcerer of his caliber would produce a CRAZY curse spirit. and if curse users got to him, there would be some sort of trace or destruction left behind as a trail because nanami wont go that easy and if he did turn into a curse user, he would be able to pick up the curse energy residue.

so now here he is, back infront of him like some kind of disappearing act AND with some strange and crazy energy inside him. like a fucked up star or black hole or something. somethings obviously happened to him, and if the weird disappearance and reappearance or the weird-ass thing inside him didnt clue him in—he would rip out his own eyes. and he KNOWS that is this nanami because the Six Eyes never lie. (hehe kenjaku prison realm moment)

so now hes tasked with figuring out what the fuck happened to nanami and what the fuck that pulsing thing inside him is—but hes conflicted about it because jesus christ, it was just him and ieiri for so long and theyre both so desperate and so happy to see an old friend again and—and they don't know if they can disregard whatever the fuck happened to him and if hes a threat, because god they missed him so much (hehe geto moment)

MEANWHILE march and welt are snooping around and they find a curse, which they easily defeat obviously and welt has... a WEIRD feeling about these "curses". like hes experienced facing this kind of energy before... so they go curse hunting a little bit more and holy shit. thats when welt realizes.

the reason why the curses and curse energy is so familiar is because he REALLY DID face this sort of energy before—and he faced that energy in the form of rAIDEN MEI WHEN SHE WAS WAVING AROUND HER NIHILITY ABILITIES. so now the express HAS to start meddling because the fucking NIHILITY is HERE and this world has been drowning in the powers of the nihility for actual fucking CENTURIES and at this point, and its going to be too goddamn predictable if theres a fucking stellaron causing it. (there isnt but theyre so used to it at this point lmao)

so yeah! thats my setup for an hsr x jjk crossover lmao

oh yeah its totes nanago AHAHHAHAHA—its implied but idk if it got thru KJHDFJLGkHSLK

[arcsin27]

Reviewing all the stories in junji ito maniac because I can, fuck you :)

The strange hikizuri siblings - uhh okay. Not scary nothing even happened. Okay a guy was a jealous simp, little kids are just like that, some guy threw up bread dough ig, then a ghost stared at everyone for a while and dipped the end

The story of the mysterious tunnel - Jesus Christ that was pretty spooky what the hell. Lost my marbles when he assumed the drop was water, and the kid in the ceiling fucked me up with her voice (dub) and screams

Ice cream bus - im never eating ice cream again. Jokingly compared the driver to William afton fnaf in the beginning but he was somehow worse. The dad pushing the kid away jumpscared me, then horrified me, and I needed a break from the show

Hanging balloon - so absurd it was kinda funny. The nonlinear storytelling added a bit if spook as I slowly realized who was at the window but idk the concept was just funny to me. Also I was so happy someone finally showed up to a horror plot strapped until I saw the result. Sorry random Chad with a crossbow, wish you coulda helped…

Four x four walls - thought something horrific would happen outside and he wouldn’t hear it but it didn’t, thought soichi was famous for being scary but he wasnt, I think this was like a comic relief in episode form. No spook, kinda funny

The sandman’s lair - *laughs nervously* what the fuck. No clue what happened, why would you tape yourselves like that, let me see his dream form damnit, the nature of humanity is we reinvent homestuck etc

Intruder - these kids are based tbh. Balls of steel, don’t blame the redhead, just move on with their lives

Long hair in the attic - also based, i had wondered where her head had gone but i shoulda known by the title, that grinding sound pissed me off tho

Mold - thank. God. It was in black and white. I choose to believe its dust. Also idc about culture or taboo if your floor is coated in inches of ropes and pools of mold just wear your damn shoes. Jesus Christ

Library vision - this one felt like it was calling out all of my anxieties about losing the things and memories precious to me. Also 10/10 Sean chiplock that final recital of hell of thorns was incredible and spooky. Also what the fuck was the ending

Tomb town - im never driving again. Also just call the cops surely you get a reduced sentence for actually reporting the crime. Other than that not scary lol

Layers of terror - im never picking my skin again. god ALMIGHTY why did i bear witness to this. Fuck that mom bro she sucks. I was thinking about how the proportions of human anatomy change as you age and how a toddler with such short limbs and a thick torso could fit inside an adult but uh… then they answered my question. And then it got worse. Funnily enough the 2yo looked like a monster id design

The thing that drifted ashore - was this supposed to be scary…? Oh boy they turned into fish people and promptly fucked off good for them ig

Tomie • photo - wow what bitches lmfao. Idk why she has a face growing out of her scalp hut I didn’t need to see the removal process. Or how botched the removal process was. Based that the photographer just fuckin moved on. “Damnit the blood ruined my pictures :/“ incredible.

Unendurable labyrinth - probably woulda been scarier if they were lost for longer but to me it looked like they took five steps, found the brother, seven steps, “aaaah we’re lost,” two steps, “theyre looking at me!” then suddenly the mummies have eyes, fade to black. Cool

The bully - I was sooo ready for retribution, then I got reconciliation and got even happier, then it turned into child abuse and I wanted to kill a bitch

Alley - pfft idk if its based that she killed those kids or not but it was extra based that they got revenge on her lmao shoulda brought a ladder bro

Headless statue - Jesus fuck that’s gross. Stop it. Also smash the statues again it worked brilliantly earlier. Or maybe jump out a window idk

Whispering woman - mega based. The nervous girl gains support and confidence, the attendant is freed from her abusive friend, the abusive friend gets violently killed, its just wins all around

Soichi’s beloved pet - once again a comic relief episode but tbh it was pretty funny, soichi was a lot less hateable this time too!

[whiskey-tango-matcha]

Patient Zero (m, colds)

I'm trying something a little different on this one - there's no sick character POV, but both Greyson and Elijah are sick. This is written from first Matt (the sous chef) and then Mark's (the floor manager) perspectives. It was a fun little exercise, and I hope you all like it.

Elijah & Greyson both have the flu and blame each other for it. No real plot, just quips and vibes. Enjoy :)

cw: male snz, colds, contagion, coughing, fevers, dizziness...snarkiness... the usual lmao. 3.5k words

Patient Zero

The early hours of the morning were the best the restaurant had to offer. It was summer, but at three in the morning it was cool, quiet, dark, and almost meditative to be in the restaurant alone. I could get used to this, Matt thought, setting his things down on the prep table in the empty kitchen.

Matt almost never worked the AM shift, but it was an event night and event nights always came with an unusual schedule. This particular event was a small business celebrating ten years open, and the two women in charge of the event were lovely but… particular.

Everything had to be just so – which was fine, because they were paying through the nose to buy out the restaurant for the night – and many of their requests were ones that Greyson and Elijah had never heard before.

“They want us to… make their dinner rolls?” Matt had asked when Greyson had showed him the banquet event order he and Elijah had put together. “But we buy the best bread in the city… I mean, isn’t Alicia going to get mad that she’s losing our business for that event?”

“Elijah already talked to Alicia about it; she’s annoyed, but she gets it. These people want everything made in house, and trust me I told them that Alicia makes better bread than I’d ever be able to, but they didn’t care. They’re fuckin’ weird, Matt,” Greyson said, smoothing the piece of paper onto the prep table. “They want us to make them a cake, too. You did a stage at that bakery in Italy a couple summers ago, right?”

That was how Matt had ended up at the restaurant at oh-dark-thirty, using their decrepit Kitchenaid mixer to make some maybe-okay bread and a probably-not-great cake for a group that had no clue what the difference between a pastry chef and a regular one was. At least he’d be able to enjoy the evening off; it was a Saturday, it was summer, and he could already taste the cocktail he’d be sipping while the rest of the team was slaving away.

About three hours into mixing, proofing, and looking up recipes on his phone, Matt heard the back door of the kitchen slam open and then shut. He whipped his head towards the sound – Greyson wasn’t supposed to be in until nine, at the earliest. Who the fuck was here?

“HTSHH-ue! Huh! Hhh… huhITSZHUE!” Matt heard Elijah before he saw him, and winced when he did. Elijah had definitely seemed a little off yesterday, but the rest of the team figured that he was just nervous about this event and how picky the people paying for it were. Matt, at the very least, hadn’t assumed he was -

“HUHHHESTCHUE!” - sick.

“Bless you, Elijah,” Matt called from the prep kitchen. Elijah jumped at the phantom voice and wiped his nose on the back of his hand. He turned the corner to find Matt, covered in flour and frosting, and laughed.

“Thangks,” he said, his voice low and gravelly. “You doing okay with the whole… bread thing?”

Matt shrugged and motioned to the recipe on his phone. “I mean, if this bread recipe is good enough for The Barefoot Contessa, it should be good enough for these people, right?”

Elijah smiled, amused. “Right,” he said, turning to cough away from the prep kitchen entrance. Matt gave him a sympathetic look, and Elijah shrugged.

“You’re here early,” Matt said, scoring the tops of his rolls and covering the baking sheets in plastic for proofing. Elijah gave him a small smile.

“Couldn’t sleep,” he said, sniffling. “Worried about this party tondight, I guess.”

“Mmm,” Matt hummed, noncommittal. Elijah and his boss were two sides of the same stubborn-ass coin, and there was no use reasoning with or forcing confessions of illness out of either of them. The only people they listened to were each other; their relationship was weird, it was codependent, but it worked so Matt didn’t question it. He hoped Greyson would be in soon.

“I’mb going to go work on the mbenus for tondight,” Elijah said, swallowing back a cough. “Holler if you ndeed mbe.”

Matt knew he wouldn’t need Elijah, but he nodded anyway. “Right back at ya.”

***

The sun had finally made its way to the middle of the sky when Greyson burst through the doors of the kitchen, his signature bull-in-a-china-shop style.

“Christ it’s hot out there,” Greyson moaned as he walked into the prep kitchen. Matt had finally finished the three-tiered cake and was working on making fondant letters to adorn the top. He looked up from his work to see his boss perusing the trays of rolls and cake tiers cooling in the prep kitchen’s reach-in refrigerator.

Greyson was looking especially disheveled this morning; he’d let his hair grow all the way to his shoulders this year – everyone on the stupid dating apps loves long hair, is what he’d said to Matt when he mentioned his boss had needed a haircut back in February – and it was pulled back into a messy ponytail today. He was in a cutoff t-shirt and cutoff shorts, flip-flops, and, frankly, looked more ready for a lazy day at the beach than the huge party he’d have to put out in a few hours.

“It’s August,” Matt said in response to Greyson’s gripe. “That’s, like, peak hot. Why are you wearing that?”

His boss turned to face Matt, gave himself a once over, and huffed out a little laugh. “Couldn’t sleep last night, so I ended up walking to a club. Went home with some girl and crashed at her place, passed out, didn’t have time to go back home, so you get flip-flop Greyson. I have a spare set of clothes in the office.”

Matt rolled his eyes, thinking of the conversation he’d had with Elijah earlier; two sides of the same coin.

“You all good on the bread, Master Baker?” Greyson asked, grinning at his own joke. Matt gave a little laugh through his nose.

“All good,” he said. “I just need help with the fucking frosting for this cake, I can’t seem to get it -”

“IGTSHZZ-ue!”

Matt’s head snapped up suddenly; his boss’s face was pressed into his elbow. The sous felt his heart sink. Not both of them.

A sick Elijah was fine. A sick Greyson was slightly more annoying, but also tolerable. But when both of them were sick, it was, to put it lightly, a nightmare.

“Shit, ‘scuse me, sorry, can’t stop fucking sneezing today,” Greyson said, rubbing his nose with the back of his hand.

“Bless you,” Matt said, accusatory. “are you feeling okay?”

Greyson started to nod, then held up a finger as if to say, ‘hold on’. Matt waited a moment while his boss stood, waiting for another sneeze that didn’t seem to want to come. He let out a shaky breath and shook his head as if to clear it. “I’mb good,” he said, congestion already seeping into his voice. Matt had a sudden memory pop into his head – Greyson offering Elijah a bite of a short rib dish yesterday, then taking a bite himself from the same fork. Goddamn it, Greyson.

“Are you -”

“ITSZH-ue! HTSHH-uh! Fuckin – HGTSHH-ue!” Greyson suddenly collapsed into a volley of sneezes, covered only by a hand. He grimaced at the obvious mess he’d left behind and went to the sink to blow his nose and clean himself up.

“Fuck, Chef,” Matt said while Greyson washed his hands. While, like Elijah, there was no use trying to force a confession out of Greyson, Matt was much closer to the executive chef and couldn’t help accusing him. “Are you serious? This is so not the day for you to be fucking sick.”

“Oh, relax,” Greyson said, rolling his eyes. “I’mb ndot sick, it mbust be allergies or somethiii….INGTSHH-uhh! Fuck mbe,” Greyson moaned, pulling more paper towels out of the dispenser and blowing again.

“It’s not allergies,” Matt said. Greyson raised an eyebrow at his sous.

“Yeah? How do you know that, all-seeing eye?”

As if summoned, Elijah turned the corner into the prep kitchen at that moment. “Grey, good, you’re here,” he said, attempting to clear his throat. “Cand we go over verbiage for the mbenu tondight?”

Greyson pursed his lips and closed his eyes on seeing the GM. Matt’s eyes darted from Elijah to Greyson and back again, wondering how this was going to play out.

“What?” Elijah asked, sniffling.

“You fuckin’ asshole,” Greyson said, giving Elijah a little playful shove. “Why didn’t you tell me yesterday you were fuckin’ sick?”

“I’mb ndot sigck,” Elijah said, pathetically. Matt had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing; Elijah’s eyes were rimmed red, his nose was chapped from blowing, and since he’d walked through the door he hadn’t gone more than five minutes without sneezing. If you looked up ‘sick’ in the dictionary, there he’d be.

Greyson had no such tact and barked out a laugh in his boss’s face. “Yeah?” he asked, slapping a hand on Elijah’s forehead. The GM shook him off, but the damage was done. “You’re burning up,” Greyson said, his voice accusatory. Elijah flipped him the bird.

“I’mb ndot burning up, it’s just hot in the office,” Elijah said, taking a step back and crossing his arms. “Also, why the fuck are you dressed like you’re in a ndineties beach dramba?”

“I’m about to go change, but nice attempt at changing the subject,” Greyson said, leaning against the wall. “Seriously, have you taken anything?”

Elijah rolled his eyes, but nodded. “Just drop it,” Elijah said, his voice deadpan. “Why are you being such a dick about it, andyway? It’s ndot like -”

“HGTSH! HTSH! Huh… hh…”

“Oh, mbother fuck -”

“HUHESSTZCHUE!” Greyson doubled over to sneeze into his elbow, cutting his boss off not once, but twice. He gave Elijah a knowing glance over the crook of his arm and sniffled.

Elijah sighed, a congested, tired sound. “I… bless you,” he said.

“Thangks,” Greyson said, wiping his nose on the back of his hand. “Patient zero.”

“Fuck off,” Elijah said, shoving the chef. “Cand you please combe help mbe with these stupid mbenus?”

Greyson nodded, then turned back to Matt. “You said you’re all good, yeah?” he asked. Matt hadn’t; he needed help with the frosting, and wanted to make sure Greyson was okay with the way the rolls were proofing. But he nodded anyway; no use trying to separate the two of them while they were mid-squabble.

“I’m good,” Matt said. “I’ll come get you in a bit.”

Greyson nodded, then followed behind Elijah, muttering something about a plague rat. Matt could hear the slap Elijah bestowed upon him from across the kitchen.

***

Mark hated these types of events.

When he was younger, Mark had been a banquet captain for a hotel; a job he’d rather forget on most days. The nights were long, the people were always entirely too drunk, and although the pay was good, he dreaded every single shift.

Elijah had decided when the year began that Elliot’s had a goal of doing one full buyout banquet a month, a decision that made Mark’s heart sink, though he’d never let that on to his boss. Instead, he’d told Elijah all about his past banquet experience, showed the GM how to make a proper BEO, and volunteered to captain the events that his boss booked. He hated banquets, but he did love this tiny restaurant; he loved his staff and he loved his bosses and he wanted to make working there enjoyable for everyone.

Putting on a good face didn’t mean he hated it any less.

Mark yanked open the kitchen doors at noon the day of the event – an event he knew from the very moment of its booking was going to be a nightmare – and tried to get his game face on. He was going to be there until two in the morning, he was going to get his ass handed to him by some overinflated MLM Boss Babe, he was going to have to move the tables a hundred times… Mark shook his head to clear it. Becoming hyper-focused on how much this evening was going to suck wasn’t doing him any favors, that much he knew.

“Hey, Mark,” Matt said from the prep kitchen to his left. Mark stopped in his tracks and waved at the sous chef.

“Hi, Matt,” he said, smiling. “I thought you were supposed to be out of here by now? Didn’t you come in at like four in the morning?”

“Three,” Matt corrected, pulling a hand down his face in obvious exhaustion. “I’m trying to get out of here, but…” he trailed off, looking behind Mark in anticipation. Mark furrowed his brow and turned – nothing there.

“But…?” he prompted. Matt sighed.

“Greyson’s�� on one,” he said, choosing his words carefully. “I can’t for the fuckin’ life of me get him to come back here.”

Mark chuckled. “When isn’t he on one?” he asked. Matt let loose a dark laugh as well. “What’s his problem?”

“HHUTSZHH-ue!”

Mark cocked his head towards the sound that came from the office in the front of the kitchen. Then, slowly, he turned back to Matt. “He’s not…”

“Both of them,” Matt answered, resting his head in his hand, an elbow propped on the prep table. “I thought maybe it wasn’t so bad when they came in this morning, but…”

“HGTSHH-uhh! Huh -”

“HTZSCHUE!”

First Elijah. Then Greyson. Rinse, repeat.

“Goddamn it,” Mark muttered. “Okay. I’ll go do damage control and send Greyson back here to check you out so you can go.”

Matt nodded. “Thanks, man,” he said, picking up a Sharpie and labeling a pan wrapped in plastic. Mark gave a nod back, and headed to the front of the kitchen.

Greyson and Elijah were both seated in the office, twin tissues held to their faces. Elijah was coughing like a man who’d just escaped a house fire, while Greyson seemed stuck in a sort of pre-sneeze torture. It would’ve been almost funny, if it weren’t so pathetic.

“Um,” Mark said, knocking on the open door and catching both his bosses off-guard. “Hey. Everything, uh… okay in here?”

Greyson let out a shaky, unresolved breath. “Yeah. All good. Hi,” he said, his voice low and stuffed-up. He hit Elijah in the arm, motioned up to Mark, and said, “Where are your mbanners?”

Elijah rolled his eyes and took a sip from a water cup of questionable age. “Hey, Mbark,” he said. The GM’s voice was nearly gone, and sounded raw, like his throat was on fire.

“You guys look great,” Mark joked, prompting a bark of a laugh from Greyson and a dead-eyed look from Elijah. “How the hell did you both manage to get sick overnight?”

“Well, sombeone was getti’g sick yesterday and didn’t tell mbe,” Greyson said, flashing a pointed look Elijah’s way. Elijah turned to the chef and placed his head in his hand; apparently, Mark was no longer invited to this conversation.

“You kndow what I was thinking,” Elijah said, his voice going out on the final syllable. He cleared his throat before continuing. “I was thinking, how do you kndow it was mbe who got you sick? Mbaybe you’re just projecting because you’re patient zero.”

“Elijah, I kndow you have a fever but let’s try to rembain in reality, shall we? You’re obviously patient zero because I was finde last ndight. You, on the other hand, were texti’g mbe ‘oh, mby allergies are so bad, I don’t know what’s bloomi’g but it -’ IGTSZZHUE! ETSHCHUE! Oh, fuckigg finally,” Greyson groaned, yanking more tissues from the box placed squarely between the two of them and blowing. Elijah coughed out a laugh.

“You were sayi’g?” he asked, smug. Greyson rolled his eyes from behind a tissue.

“Fugck off,” he said, turning back toward Mark, who assumed he’d been forgotten completely. “Did you ndeed sombething, Mbark?”

Mark nodded. “Yeah,” he said, “Matt said he needed to check out with you, Chef?”

“Oh, fugck I totally forgot Mbatt got here in the mbiddle of the ndight,” Greyson said, pushing himself to his feet too quickly. He caught hold of the desk, swaying slightly, and closed his eyes.

Elijah raised his eyebrows at Greyson, who got himself back together after a moment. “You gonnda mbake it?” he asked as the chef slowly opened his eyes. Greyson sneered.

“Screw you, Elijah, this shit is your fault,” he said, pushing his hair off of his sweaty forehead.

Elijah looked to Mark. “Cand you please tell me what kind of fever he’s sporting?” he asked. Mark set his jaw; he really didn’t want to get in the middle of this whole thing… but Elijah was his direct report. He didn’t have much choice; without warning the chef first, Mark placed a hand on Greyson’s forehead.

Greyson pulled away as quick as he could. “Back off,” he snarled, pushing past Mark to relieve Matt in the back kitchen. Mark shrank back as the chef breezed by; he really could be scary when he wanted to be.

“Sorry,” Elijah said when Greyson was out of earshot. “He shouldn’t be such an ass to you.”

Mark shrugged. “I get it. It sucks working when you don’t feel well. He definitely has a fever,” the floor manager said. Elijah nodded and Mark gave him a pointed look. “You look like you do, too.”

Elijah gave a little half-shrug back. “Ndothing I haven’t worked through before,” he said. “Huhh...HGTSHH-ue! Huh! ETSHZHUE!” The GM wrenched away from Mark to sneeze painfully towards the door. Mark flinched in sympathy.

“Bless,” he said. “So… how are we going to handle tonight?”

Elijah turned sluggishly back towards Mark and sniffled, an unproductive, squelching sound. “You tell mbe,” he said, his voice all but gone, “captaind.”

Fuck.

***

“You do it.”

“No fuckin’ way. This is on you, dude. I’m one foot out the door.”

“Matt, you’ve been saying that since two PM and now it’s ten. Clearly you’re not one foot out the door.”

Matt shot Mark a look, but he couldn’t deny the truth in his statement. But how the fuck could he have left earlier? When Greyson had come to the back kitchen to dismiss him hours before, the chef had nearly passed out just from the walk. He never would’ve said that he needed Matt to stay; he wasn’t that kind of guy. He was the guy who worked until he literally passed out without even asking for a hand to grab before he fell. Both he and Elijah were.

So, without being asked, Matt stayed for the event. He prepped with the line cooks, while Mark helped the servers prepare the dining room, and both of them attempted to corral their bosses into resting in the office.

“Are you sure you don’t ndeed mbe to at least sear off the short ribs?” Greyson had asked, white-knuckling the prep table that Matt was working at. “Seriously, Mbatt, you don’t have to do everythigg.”

“I don’t need you to sear the short ribs,” Matt said, gently guiding his boss back to a chair. “Please. Just sit down, it hurts me to watch you… breathe.”

“Mbark, at least let mbe fold ndapkins for your or something,” Elijah had insisted, swaying in the middle of the dining room. Mark had to nearly run to keep his boss from face-planting at the host stand.

“Lij, we have an army on,” Mark said. “Go rest, please. We’ll need you for service.”

The two ill men had eventually given up on asking to help their counterparts. The staff, a truly well-oiled machine, had worked around them, narrowly avoiding being coughed or sneezed on, until the event started.

Once the hosts of the event arrived, Greyson and Elijah pulled themselves together enough to at least look like figureheads. Greyson hoarsely shouted orders in the kitchen, while Elijah helped the servers organize their tables and schmoozed the hosts. Against all odds, it had gone smoothly, and once the food was out both Elijah and Greyson stumbled back into the office, sunk down into the waiting tablecloth nest, and passed out.

Which led them to now.

“I don’t want to wake them, dude,” Matt said. “They’re so mean when they’re sick.”

“Well obviously I don’t want to wake them, either,” Mark countered. “But one of us has to do it, the hosts aren’t going to leave till they can say goodb -”

“HGTSHH!” Greyson woke himself with a massive sneeze, which shook Elijah awake.

“Fuck, mbust you be so goddamn loud?” Elijah asked, his voice cracking. Greyson flashed him an annoyed look.

“Oh, mby sincere apologies, ndext time I have an uncontrollable bodily functiond occur I’ll mbake sure to think about your combfort beforehand,” he said, pushing his hair into a small bun on the back of his head.

“Mbuch appreciated,” Elijah said, slowly sitting up. The two of them turned, almost simultaneously, to the younger men standing at the door. “...yes?” Elijah asked.

Matt elbowed Mark, who gave him a fleeting dirty look. “Um,” Mark said, “the, uh, hosts wanted to say goodbye to you guys if you’re… up for it.”

Elijah nodded, but Greyson was the first to push himself to a standing position. “Just stay there, old mban, you’re sicker than mbe and obviously worse at keeping your germbs to yourself.” Greyson pushed past Mark and Matt, placing a hand on his sous chef’s shoulder before exiting the kitchen.

“Thangk you for stayi’g,” he said. “Ndow go hombe before I kick you out.”

Matt smiled a bit. “Yes, Chef,” he said. “Um… feel better.”

Greyson nodded and disappeared through the doors to the dining room. When Mark turned away from the swinging doors, Elijah was also standing.

“You go, too, Mbark,” he said, straightening his glasses and smoothing his sleep-wrinkled shirt as best he could. “We ndeed both of you well rested for the rest of the week. Great job tondi- IGTSZH-uhh! Snrf.” Elijah didn’t bother finishing his sentence, just smiled at Mark and rubbed his chapped nose.

“Bless,” Mark said, “and thank you. It did go well, didn’t it?”

“Well as it could’ve,” Elijah said, one hand on the swinging door. “Ndight,” he said, and followed behind Greyson.

Matt and Mark exchanged a knowing look when both their bosses exited the kitchen.

“We totally ran a restaurant today,” Matt said, a smile creeping onto his lips. Mark laughed.

“Yeah,” he said, “we kind of did, didn’t we?”

The moment of elation sat between them like a birthday balloon, bright and taut enough to pop, until they heard a massive, “HGTSHHZUE!” from the dining room, followed by coughing, followed by motherly-sounding tutting from the hosts of the event.

“Let’s get out of here,” Mark said, and Matt nodded.

“Before they change their minds,” he said.

The two of them rushed out the back of the kitchen into the late-summer-evening heat. “Hey,” Mark said, before they went their separate ways. “I know you’ve had a long day, but would you like to go get a drink with me?”

Matt smiled, and turned toward the other man. “Yeah,” he said, “yeah, I definitely would.”

[slightlyhopefulromantic]

Sorry, it's kind of a long ask...

hi hello!! I really enjoy your au, and the small tidbits I find here and there paint such a vivid picture in my mind. I was wondering if you could indulge me just a little. What where the moms' reactions to meeting the Omega daddies? Specifically Samantha?

Canonically, I don't think Ron ever talked about his father besides the fact that his dad died on a fishing trip and was never proud of him. I imagine he probably opened up a little to his wife, but that was it.

Followup on that tidbit, how would Ron's anchor work? Is it like traveling through Willy's mind and seeing things from his perspective, or is it an owl house "jump through these paintings of his memories and see for yourself" situation? And since we know about the doodler's influence on that course of events, do the moms see it? (Let's be honest, the dad's are not perceptive enough to see anything besides Ron struggling).

I really enjoy your au and artwork, keep up the good work :D

(sorry that only willy and barry get neat sketches here, i realized i had no real design for either of them and so took a second pass with references LMAO)

no need to apologize for a long ask! im really glad you like the au and my art, thank you so much!! sorry this reply took so long ":]

i actually think about this a LOT, because a massive staple of my specific take on this au is that the moms... arent supposed to be here! the dads were supposed to be taken instead, just like in canon, and so everyone is quite confused throughout their interactions XD like you point out - samantha doesnt know who willy is, and in fact, no one knows who anybody else is besides morgan and bill :]

their first interactions, pre-reveal, are mostly confusion on both ends. the moms have no fuckin clue whats going on. the omega daddies are scrambling to figure out what went wrong and come up with reasons why the moms suck (not hard to do). by the time the reveal comes around, the o-dads are on steadier footing, but the moms are still utterly flabbergasted. only morgan and carol ever met their fathers-in-law, and well. obviously frank is not a villain here, so only morgan recognizes anyone LMAO

as for what samantha knows of willy and how she reacted... she doesnt (didnt) know what he looks like, and she doesnt know the full of ron's experiences in childhood. she just knows, like you said, he was an abusive father who died on a fishing trip when ron was young. she definitely knows more than most, ron has opened up to her about it, but she doesnt know the details. upon meeting him, shes. well. less than impressed! samantha is notably a very forgiving and kind character, even to those they are enemies with, but willy (and the o-dads as a whole) is someone she never gives any benefit of the doubt. as soon as she learns who he is, shes over it and very on board with "well lets just kill the guy." she hates his ass!!

as for rons anchor, im still uh. not entirely sure! but it would be more an owl house jumping-into-memories thing, not traveling through willys mind instead. though that would definitely be an interesting take... not what im going for, but something to explore in the future :3c and i dont know if the moms are all that observant either LMAO so while theyd probably have a better chance of noticing the doodler, i think they would still be mostly focused on little ron :') i do really wanna do a bigger post talking about the anchors at some point, since i have them all more figured out now than i did initially. however, logically, i should just get over myself and write the fanfiction LMAO i just am not a long form writer so that seems daunting ":]

[always-andromeda]

Can I request La Belle Fluer Sauvage for Klitz & AFAB reader,, Where the reader’s been hearing people on campus saying horrible things about her looks so after she breaks down in front of Klitz one night, he decides to show her how much he loves her body 🥺

Author’s Note | ahahahaaaaa, this was one hell of a piece to write. I tried to keep the description of the readers body very vague so that anyone could apply themselves here. but like lmao, this movie takes place in the early 2000s where fuckin heroin chic was a thing and you could literally be completely average sized and still called fat?? so like, it all works out in the end lol.

Warnings | smut (MDNI), oral (female receiving), some light overstimulation, Klitzy gets a liiiittle pussy drunk oop, the description of reader's body is kept vague but folks at the beginning are disparaging and call her a cow ;-; (so if this is triggering to you, maybe consider skipping this one; take care of yourselves, my loves), that's all I can think of!

The second you feel his hand graze your lower back and his lips meeting yours, you feel guilty. It's a touch that you should be familiar with by now. The sensations are the same; a chill runs up your spine and a hum begins to swell in your throat. But the emotion that wells up in your eyes makes you twitch with frustration.

Clenching your knuckles, you wait to just melt into it; for everything to come together perfectly and suddenly make sense. Because you don't like associating Klitz with these worries. He's not your problem, not really. But the longer he lingers the more you remember the sound of those girls snickering.

You remember passing by them in the lunchroom, remember the way they tried their best to look sneaky as they stared in your direction. The part you remember most are the words. They've played on a loop and bounced around the inside of your skull like a screensaver all day ever since you heard them. 

"God, what a heifer. Does she really need that much food on her tray?"

"She might not need it, but you know cows, they love to graze."

Then came the stifled cackles as you walked away as quickly as you possibly could away from their table. Body moving on autopilot, you went directly towards the lunch table the tripod had unofficially claimed as their own. Only this time, you didn't meet the greetings of any of the boys as you sat down. You couldn't even bring yourself to eat any of the lunch you'd taken.

Part of you wishes that Klitz had just ignored your silence. But he's never been that kind of boyfriend. Even if he has no clue what to do, he's always worried about you, especially when you don't respond to him placing a hand on your knee under the table. 

Not wanting to embarrass you in front of his friends, he figures that he'll ask later. He figures that maybe math class is getting you down again or maybe you didn't get enough sleep. And he figured that the second he kissed you in his bedroom when you both got back to his house, you'd respond then. 

But you make none of the happy little sounds he's used to. No contented sigh as his lips attach to your pulse point on your neck. You can tell he's trying so hard to get you hooked, but the only thing that is snagging are your own insecurities.

"Klitzy, stop," you blurt out suddenly and sit up properly, scooching away from him until you're practically on the edge of his bed. He stays rooted in place, watching as you pull your knees up, minimizing yourself as much as you possibly can, it seems. 

Klitz doesn't dare to move a muscle when he questions you, "What did I do?"

Your gaze is glued to the plaid pattern of his rumpled comforter. Blinking fast, you answer, "You didn't do anything."

He has a hard time taking the answer at face value. "Okay..." he utters slowly, waiting for something more to leave your mouth.

That's when you swallow thickly and explain, "I just...I don't like my body right now. And if I don't like it, I'm not going to expect you to like it either."

"Oh–" that catches him off guard. He chews on his lip, bites into the flesh so hard that he flinches slightly. Klitz is all too familiar with those days. Because he knows what he looks like. He's well aware that he's not built like the guys at school are. And some days he's proud that he isn't one of those mindless meatheads. But especially in the days before he had you, he often had those same days of complete self loathing.

Those days were soothed by your soft voice calling him handsome, your fingers running up and down his arm, and your lips marking up his chest and throat with smears of glittery lip gloss and hickies alike. All of those things he'd once found to be detestable...he could grow into them.

Klitz tries again, "Do you think I'm ugly?"

Finally, you look at him, worry flooding your wide eyes, "No! Never! I promise you, I'm just–"

"Then why would I find you ugly?"

"Huh?" your brow raises.

"Listen, I might think that I'm ugly sometimes...but you don't. I feel the same way. Even if you think you're ugly...that doesn't stop me from thinking that you're the prettiest girl in the entire world."

Your eyes fall to your legs again as you smile slightly. "Agree to disagree then, I guess." you say with semi-amusement.

Klitz is careful with how he closes the space between you both. He slides forward a bit more, the mattress shifting as he gets closer. "That doesn't sound like a fair compromise," he teases.

"Then what's your idea of a fair compromise?"

"How about I try a little convincing first? You haven't even let me plead my case," his lips are inches away from yours again, hungry to prove their resolve on your skin.

You bide your time before his mouth hits their destination. "What's your case again?"

His breath warms your skin and makes goosebumps flourish all around your shoulders. "I think that you're the prettiest girl–" he kisses you chastely. "–in the entire world."

You chuckle playfully. "Okay, proceed," rolling your eyes, you want to be surprised how quickly he can sway you. How simply the sight of his eager smile as he gets between your legs makes your stomach flutter with elation. Klitz's nimble fingers make quick work of the button and zipper on your jeans and you giggle as you raise your hips to help him pull them down.

Momentarily, you curse yourself for not wearing anything special underneath them. Yet Klitz doesn't even seem to notice or care that these aren't some delicate lace panties. He still pulls them off with the same delicacy as if they were. And something about that makes you want to sob. But you push that down as he reaches for one of the pillows leaned against his headboard and places it right underneath you, getting you at a better angle for his mouth.

His dimples show as he kisses your thighs. Regardless of the texture and appearance of your flesh, they are ever present and betray all of his enthusiasm for his current position. But that smile is soon replaced as his lips part to let out shaky breath.

"Can I see you?" he asks tentatively, licking his lips nervously. "Please, baby?"

Watching his pupils dilate to the size of saucers as you spread your legs slowly, you can't help but laugh a little. It's absurd. It's absurd how often you forget about this feeling and absurd how quickly he fuels your fire with simple gasp. And it's absolutely fucking absurd that you feel that damn sob rising up your throat again. It's as if he was looking at you for the first time all over again. Maybe that's the benefit of his inexperience. With no one else to compare you to, he couldn't possibly be disappointed, right?

"Fuck," the single word comes out with the force of a freight train, like it was just waiting somewhere deep in his chest. It's something carnal and full of worship as licks a stripe up the center of your cunt, parting your folds and getting a taste of the musky arousal beginning to pool between your legs.

The second it hits his tongue he curses again, breathier this time. As much as he wants to take his time, as soon as he's gotten that little bit, he's keen to dive back in completely. 

Without another thought into the action, Klitz plunges his tongue into your hole, desperately fucking you with it. His nose nuzzles against your mound and his hair flips wildly as he buries his face into your more and more like you're some sort of non-renewable resource. Like if he doesn't get his fill now, you'll run out of that sweet, tangy nectar that he so loves. And if the guttural groans and moans are anything to judge, you start to believe that he's truly been wanting this for a while.

That want only deepens as his arms hook around your thighs and raise you just slightly from the pillow, getting you closer. And that's when you finally make the contented sounds he likes to hear; the high pitched curses as you pull at your own nipples and the sharp gasps with every bump of his nose against your clit. You're so flushed, so swollen, and so ripe for him. And so close, so quickly.

He's everything you need and more, pleading his case as if he were mere moments away from a death sentence. As if you believing those ideas that you weren't worth any of this would actually kill him. That's how fervently he embraces you; all of you. Like if he didn't love your whole being with his entire being, he wouldn't even be himself.

The thought pushes you over the edge, sends you careening into a climax that practically makes your eyes roll back into your head. You finally let out that sob you'd been holding back. And the relief of it all fills your bones with warmth, even through the startling tinge of overstimulation as Klitz continues on, so lost in your cunt, that he'd barely even realized that you'd finished on his face.

You gasp, "Klitzy, too much!" and push back on his shoulders. Once he pulls away from the intense entanglement, you see his hazel green eyes are dazed behind his fogged up oval lenses and the bottom half of his thin face is covered in you. 

He blinks hard a few times and wonders aloud with confusion, "Wait, you came?"

All you can do is throw your head back on the pillow and chuckle to yourself. God, part of you is glad that the rest of your peers are too stupid and superficial to see how attractive he is. Because you can't imagine any of the big, bulky, popular guys at your school being nearly as persistent and passionate as he is.

Klitz flops over beside you, bringing himself to you until he can look you in the eyes again. One of his hands reaches forward to brush some of your disheveled hair back behind your ear.

He whispers, "So...did I convince you?"

"I'm not sure," you joke. "I think I'm gonna need convincing on a regular basis now."

"I can always do that. I was captain of the debate team during sophomore year." Klitz replies matter of factly.

You can't even bring yourself to cringe at the little quip. Because you could never find him unappealing. So instead you smile coyly and giggle, letting him pepper your face with little kisses even though his lips are still wet from you.

"Don't worry," he says, "As long as you need me to, I'll keep trying to convince you."

[applbottmjeens]

NATIONAL ANTHEM.

Phillip Graves x OC

tags: MDNI 18+ OOOO THEY FUCKIN (smut, it isnt good tho), petnames, DADDY KINK, sugaring implied lowkey, some dacryphilia, unprotected sex (pls use protection y'all), age gap (anna is 26 and phillip is like, 40), phillip is a whimperer ok, switchy sex, i cannot write sex for the life of me

summary: Phillip takes Anna to dinner. Anna takes Phillip in a hotel room. I shouldn't have written this LMAO.

CIRCA MW2

It was supposed to be a one time thing. Just to say she did. Just to say she fucked the Shadow Company commander- for the bit. And then it happened again. In his office. In her room. Once while he was on the phone. A couple times in a car.

It wasn't even on purpose either. The tension between them just kept building up everytime she had the audacity to talk back to him. 

She didn't expect it to be so damn addicting. For him to be talking one moment and for him to be inbetween her legs another.

Red lipstick marks on the white sheets. His blue eyes, shot out and gazing at every single inch of her body like it's not hers.

It's his.

It's his.

He approached her not long before work ended and she was gonna head home.

"Wear something pretty tonight. We're going to dinner." 

"You asking me on a date, Commander?"

"Not asking."

It was hot. He knew what kind of man he was and what he wanted from her. She put perfume on her ankles and wore red lipstick that smudged- 

He liked it when it smudged.

"Oh shit…" She curses underneath her breath, a giggle leaving her lips before he spanks her, grabbing onto the flesh of her ass and thigh, leaving her ass adorably sore…

Phillip liked leaving his mark. Hand prints on her ass, teeth marks on her collarbone. He'd tattoo his name on her if he could get away with it. Good pussy made you crazy like that.

 

It also made him a whimperer. Begging for her to keep going, keep making him feel good.

"Keep ridin' me Annie- Fuck." Graves begs, hips rolling on top. Her dress isn't even all the way off, the thin black fabric rolled up over her belly button, the piercing peeking underneath. His hand goes over her abdomen, pressing down and making her moan so loud. 

He's such a blabbering mess when he gives her control, whining and begging, promising her he'd be good. He didn't know it at the time, but he'd be begging and promising her like that for the rest of his days. 

 It's stupid. He's going stupid and she grins watching him curse and whimper until she shuts him up with her tongue the way she likes to when his voice gets too fucking annoying.

"Mmmph..Doing good, Commander." She says low, against this lips, his hand moving to push her head for another kiss.

God. He's so pretty. She loves how ruined and desperate his face is, how his neatly parted blonde hair gets so damn messy when she has her way. For a man in his forties he was so damn cute. 

They shouldn't be doing this. 

But the way her teeth marks line up with freckles on his chest and the way his accent gets so much thicker when he's losing his mind-

She can't help herself. She'll slather on all the pretty red lipstick and wear all the white diamonds he buys her if it means she gets to witness him like this more.

This isn't love. She reminds herself. Just a way for her to drain his credit card and for him to get off.

His grip tightens on her hips, thumbs pressing over stretch marks and scars from muscle gained and fights nearly lost. 

"I'm close, babe. C’mon…" He whines and moves his hands up her body in a way that makes her gasp before she snaps and pins his hands above his head, leaning over his face.

"Not. Yet." She says firmly, that smugness returning when she sees how desperate and whimpery he is.

More whimpers. She's got him on a hold and he loves it, he hates it, and he doesn't have a clue why he lets her do this to him. “Fuck baby…” 

"Didn't make me get all pretty for you just for you to finish so early, huh?" She teases, grinning down at him, the smirk faltering when he moves deeper. 

He takes the opportunity to pull her close, turning the tables as his lips whisper into her ear, taking back control-

“I'm gonna fill you up, Annie.” He growls and kneads her ass with one hand and tangles his fingers in her dark hair with the other, keeping a grip on her. “Over…And over…’til I'm sure that needy lil’ cunt o'yours can't get off from anythin’ else…” 

His words aren't just words. She bottoms out and she can feel him take control, making her tremble and cum before he does. 

“Fuck- P-please…I-” Anna can't even speak now. He smiles with triumph.

“C'mon sugar. Use your words for Daddy..” He chuckles, kissing onto her neck as he controlled how her hips moved. “Tell me what y'want…”

Anna can't think, she hates it. Hates that she's losing. Sex between them was a competition and somehow she always lost.

His pace slows and she whines before he smacks her ass to snap her out of it.

“Don't be goin’ dumb on my cock yet, Anna.” He pulls her hair to gaze at her fucked out face, makeup ruined and eyes oh so prettily hazy.

“Be good f'me…” 

“Need you..” She whines, losing as she realizes how submissive she was getting. “I really need you to fuck me, Daddy please-”

The smug grin on Phillip's face as he turned her over and kissed her softly. “Atta girl…” He chuckles with satisfaction, looking down at her before he starts to move his hips again, agonizingly slow and gentle as he teases her.

She'd had her playtime, edging him and bouncing on his cock so excitedly...

Now it was his turn to make her suffer.

“Pussy had me worked up all day, baby..” He speaks low, piercing blue eyes gazing down at her. “Thought of you so much..” He moans and moves slower, Anna's arms around his neck as she tears up under him from the overstimulation.

He starts to move the pace a bit quicker, hands traveling up and down as he kissed on her neck, little whimpers and soft moans leaving her lips. 

“So fucking pretty…” He gazes at her with satisfaction, feeling himself get closer and closer..

This was how he liked his wild child of a sergeant. Mind melted and all submissive. Too caught up in how he was makin' her feel to talk back and be disrespectful.

She can't even speak now. He's won. First round was always to see who got to be in control.

The rest of ‘em was when the real fun began.

“Tell me.” He grabs her face to make her look up at him. “Who owns this cunt, baby?”

“Y-you-”

“Louder.” 

“You- Own me! All of me-”

“Good girl..”

His hands move to shift himself deeper into the mattress. Deeper. He feels himself whimpering her name, gasping and pulling her close as his hips snap into her as he comes.

He doesn't pull out, Phillip's lips meeting Anna's as she whimpers, mascara running as tears welled up from overstim, his thumbs wiping off the leaky mascara he loved.

It was hard. They were both horribly stubborn and eager to egg on one another, only Anna never knew when to fucking quit and admit this was something more than just sex in a hotel room.

And it lead them to moments like this.

Every time.

[itchyeye]

Heard this was where we went to bitch about protocol lmao, so here I am giving my two cents.

I know people talk about the characters and how it expects you to already care, which I agree with, but the thing that suffers the most to me are the statements, is the horror, like, some ideas are good, but it's just not scary, especially with how the episodes are structured, how there is no reaction to the statement besides an occasional "oh that was fucked" wait why are they not even trying to categorise them like we have not heard of the system in a while oh well...

The lack of follow ups is fuckin this up, it makes it less interesting, we don't know if we will even see anyone from them again (considering how many guest writers there are and the prompt system in place I doubt it), nobody cares and we are missing out on the juicy reveals of, oh I don't know A HAND BECKONING? THE HAHA MAN SCARED OF A SPIDER OH SHIT HE DIED HOOOOW? THE AUDIO FROM LOST JOHN'S CAVE???!

The one I actually like is, unsurprisingly in ep4, because that one actually takes its time to immerse us into its world and it is not scary per se, but it is interesting and it has themes (that the fandom immediately misunderstood, as usual). Unfortunately I doubt that guest writer will show up ever again and I feel like that's the current peak of this all. Like the statements we have now are shocking, but they don't linger, and they usually don't make up for that lack of horror.

The format of the internet ones has you doing all the heavy lifting trying to piece together what the fuck is supposed to be so scary

Don't even get me started on the tma bs. It's like making a tma ref and pointing to it like "you know this right? Go make your theory" and I feel like and I sort of hope it's a red herring, but at the same time there was TOO much of this so it'd be kind of a dick move, TOO much for it to not mean anything, but if it means anything then it's stupid as hell so like...lose lose scenario rn

YES THIS IS ABSOLUTELY WHERE WE GO TO BITCH ABOUT TMP GIVE ME YOUR TIRED YOUR POOR YOUR HUDDLED MASSES YEARNING TO BREATHE FREE

i totally agree with you about everything re: statements and yes ep4 was my fav as well!! i love the tma historical statements both because i love old timey gothic storytelling and because jonah magnus is my left hand arm man. my silly rabbit. so augustus' statement was great because it reminded me of those letters. except unlike those letters it had no beginning, middle, nor end and no three dimensional fully realized narrator. harrumph.

also the tma tie-ins are just so.......... ham fisted. i know that for a lot of people tma was TOO slow with its build up but i think honestly the snail's pace at which the metaplot reveals itself is one of the series' greatest strengths. you SHOULD feel bored and annoyed and confused for two full seasons before things really start happening. the characters also feel this way. they are lost and scared and in the dark. so are you, the audience. it's perfect. it's poetry.

and just dumping a random s5 character in the middle of protocol to give the CORNIEST most SHIT BRICK-HOUSE ASS CLUES about who she is and what she's referencing is....

well it's what someone very young would put on wattpad

[void-with-a-keyboard]

thinking about solar and how absolutely fucking pathetic of a man he was

constantly nervous and trying to not offend ppl while also just trying to have ppl like him

while i COULD talk about solar/lunar bc thats a very obvious ship (like. theyre right there lmao) but i came here to talk about solar/sun bc i was looking through some of my old oneshots i made when solar first showed up (like- literally on ao3 there were FIVE fics about him. I WAS EARLY) bc i wanted to kiss his flat fucking face so badly

BUUTTTT one of the oneshots was of solar and wutever fuckin insert i used interacting and like. trying to get solar used to gentle touches since im a FIRM believer that that man had NEVER felt a gentle hand on him once he existed (except for maybe when he interacted with his sun in the headspace but thats not actually physical) and it was like "okay lets see how u react to certain things and get u used to it"

and i was like... wut if it was sun doing it with him? i feel like in the beginning he would try and avoid sun as much as he could while also DEEPLY yearning to be around him. bc he just misses his brother so much and he wants him back but he knows this isnt his sun but it hurts to see him and not be able to even touch him. not bc hes not allowed to, hes just too scared to make any moves to get closer.

IM GETTING A BIT OFF TRACK BUTBUTBUT- ill discuss sun and solars early relationship LATER in another post so imma talk about wut im REALLY here for

sun is just hanging out with solar and tries to help him figure out his feelings cuz hes like "i have no fucking clue wut im feeling or wut to do with myself" and sun is like"fuck it i can help" (pretend this is in character LMAO im just being silly and over simplifying :]) and they like- "practice" with solar being used to more gentle touches. like just holding hands and hugs and petting and all that stuff. bc even tho solar trusts sun he still has a deep burning feeling that he will be hurt at some point and sun makes it his personal goal to at least help him not feel like that as much

and ofc they end up kissing. y do u think im here??

solar is an EMOTIONAL MESS. bro does not know wut to do with himself but it doesnt matter bc he feels happy and safe and DAMNIT is he gonna enjoy it

[twilightofthe]

okay i put all my cranky thoughts into a separate post that's now drafted and it made me feel better so i'll be able to watch this episode now lol but if it gets me worked up again i'm posting the rant i'm sorry i cannot be helped or changed or saved <3

ANYWAY AHSOKA EP 2

also i forgot to say so last episode but kevin kiner my ABSOLUTE BELOVED the return of the king is real so happy to have you here my dude the ending and full theme was absolutely gorgeous

anywayyyyyy so i am guessing sabine did not make like satine and survived her shish kabobing

well there's ahsoka

oh yeah there's bean she's fine she'll be fine xD

damn filoni really gave more handwaving to having a character survive a major impalement vs me twisting myself into fucking knots writing anakin getting run through lmao

ahsoka sorry but actually i'm gonna blame u for this you still kinda seem like a mess and i don't think you were a very good teacher to sabine and now ur dropping back in on her when she's convenient to you?

well at least we know why she's so adamant against training baby yoda lol

ope here's goth girl and the fuuuuck is his NAME again i keep calling him fucking bryan

i like the fancy sithy-looking sundial tho

pfff second ep is "toil and trouble" guess we're getting witchy!

OH YEAH WAS SABINE'S KITTY OKAY

THEY BETTER BE OKAY

I SWEAR TO GOD

yea ahsoka what happened to showing up in the nick of time and saving kanan and ezra from inquisitors in rebels u were slowwww girlie

OK GOOD THE CAT IS OKAY

that's all that matters

ope one more droid hanging around ezra's place

GIRL UR SITTING UP ALREADY?!

GIRL HOW CAN U BREATHE

we do love the mechanic girl of my heart

sabine does love her explosions

no huyang hera just likes explosions

sabine works best under explosive pressure we LOVE HER

ope back to corellia i guess? we can reuse the old solo sets?

sabine

you were just

impaled

"but she's not the one who needs to hear it right now" ahhh there's the sabine and hera dialogue. ugh but i'm still not used to natasha and mary i can just hear tiya and vanessa doing it instead :(

WHY DO Y'ALL KEEP MAKING SABINE AND AHSOKA ANGRY EXES TF

"ancient ppl from a distant galaxy" waaaaaaait are they bringing in those eu dudes

no wait i think i remember something about these guys that was mention as the big bad in the canceled animated rebels sequel

or it could just be the chiss lmao

that could be it too, makes sense why they'd want thrawn

ok that is some real cool galactic map visuals i am an absolute sucker for a good starmap

ok but wait how the fuck did y'all get a map to thrawn anyway did the space whales write it

also sorry morgan but i don't personally think thrawn would go for u nothing personal you are hot but you don't quite seem his type

waaaait is fucking thrawn gonna have force sensitivity now THAT would be absolutely hilarious and he'd hate it so much

who's marrok i have no memory

y'all you can't just make thrawn work for you didn't he only work with the empire cuz he had to because it would advantage his people somehow (has read zero thrawn novels and only seen rebels)

please tell me sabine is in the fucking vents of ahsoka's ship

THERE'S THE GHOST WHERE IS CHOPPER

I AM NO LONGER FUCKING ASKING

okay so i think my issue with Mary is she doesn't have any of the same authority and purpose Hera's meant to hav

CHOPPER

CHOPPER

MY MURDERBOT

MY SON

MY ANGEL MY EVERYTHING

Anyway

yeah

oh yeah harping in that the new republic is a total fustercluck

ew a capitalist

bro you know hera used to steal from people like you for the rebellion

sdlkfjsdk omg sabine's mom needs to talk to the teacher to keep her from getting expelled

but also y'all sabine is like 25-30 right now she's not a kid

@ ahsoka bitch you have no fuckin clue what you're doing doooon't talk about readiness

y'know maybe the imperial era just advanced medicine so later impalements don't kill people

oh oh so it IS ezra's!

sabine go find luke he'd love to have you

STOP WITH THE GAY DIALOGUE

ok so yeah she likely doesn't have force sensitvity

goddammit huyang neverMIND

so sabine IS force sensitive :) and kanan and ezra just never brought it up :) great :)

hera my beautiful ship nerd ily

bitch do NOT fuck with hera she has more presence than anyone ever

hera my dude you know better than anyone that if a ship wants to take off you gotta go try and stop it in person

ah i have been waiting like 5 long years to watch hera best pilot there was kick aerial ass

we STAN

chopperrrrrrrrr

oh yeah ahsoka's fighting an inquisitor too lmao

CHOPPER GET THEIR ASS

CHOPPER ADD TO YOUR KILL COUNT

ok this hera and chopper banter is perfect i do love it

VICTORY FOR MY GHOSTS

oh and good job ahsoka lol

aghhh sabine and her therapy cat i'm ;_;

theeeeere's sabine's mando armor

SABINE AND KANAN'S FUCKIN KNIFE I'M GONNA EVEN IGNORE THE BAD MULAN HACKJOB ATTEMPT

okay it seems like mary's kinda on and off for hera so far, she has her moments but she can't hold them

rosario keeps losing me i'm sorryyyyyyyy

natasha is doing GREAT

aaaaaand we redoing the end of the rebels epilogue!

god this makes me miss zeb

and kanan obvs but i've come to accept his death

zeb's still hanging around where is he!!!!!

ah all is right

sabine has her gay haircut back

here we go gay roadtrip to find ezra time

alright so i'm still not really vibing with jedi!sabine at All but i have concluded that this show is watchable but honestly not that good, writing-wise, sorry dave, so i think i'll be able to watch it with my brain turned off

goddammit first i thought the holograms visiting morgan were nightsister witch ghosts xD

RIGHT RIGHT HIS NAME IS BAYLAN NOT BRYAN

morgan stop simping for thrawn i guaranTEE he's not your type

oKAY

we are through with the two episodes! it is very late for me so i'm gonna sit and think on what i've seen so far and shitpost a little. i did really like seeing my rebels blorbos again even if the live action actors don't quite have their groove yet. obviously very excited to retrieve ezra <3 so yeah that was that and i'll be back for more next week!

[fictionkinfessions]

Wow, that last ask I made sure was depressing, wasn't it? Sorry about that. Anyways, idk if there are any other Celestials out there, but lemme give you all some love anyway because I still love you all!!! /p

Blasoom: I'm gonna be honest, you were probably the sweetest Monster I'd ever met. I know I was always busy, but I always noticed that you were so excited whenever you created a new Plant Monster, and it was always so adorable to see you playing with them and teaching them how to make music. I really wish I was able to spend more time with you :(

Glaishur: My man. My guy. My bro. You were super chill and nice to be around, and I didn't tell you that enough. Singing with you was so much fun, and I really appreciate you helping me with sorting out any conflicts within the group... you know what they say; cooler heads prevail lmao /ref

Attmoz: You never ended up telling me how your air guitar works and I'm still really upset about it (/j ofc). Jokes aside, you were fuckin awesome. Not that I don't like everyone else, but it was nice to have someone who wasn't a total stick in the mud, you know?

Hornacle: Fine, you were right; it was an actual Living Ocean by the time you were done with it (/ij). Seriously, I have no clue how you did it. You made all of those Water elementals, and you managed to fill the entire Ocean with Critters as well? All Dang, all I did was make a box that sang dubstep. You're cool as hell.

Torrt: Well, first of all, I apologize for not talking to you much, at least as far as I remember. You were a great help with creating everything, and it's always nice to have someone that keeps the beat going smoothly, both musically and in daily life. You deserve so much more appreciation than you got. I'm sorry I overlooked you.

Furnoss: Alright, listen here, you old geezer (/j). I just want you to know that as much as I teased you sometimes, I genuinely did respect you. How could I not? Not only were you super duper cool and came from the actual Living Core, but you were great at filling in for me as the leader when I was busy with other non-leader-related things. That and you were really nice to have around at night while I was sleeping. Starhenge got cold.

Plixie: Okay, I think I owe you an apology, a lot more than I do for everyone else. Back in the day, I'll just be honest: I thought you were kind of annoying. I see now how wrong I was to think that. You were an absolute ray of sunshine, and as weird as you could be sometimes, you kept things interesting, and I respect that. Thank you for never losing your optimism.

Loodvigg: I don't get why people find you so scary; I thought you were really neat! Sorry if I ever annoyed you by trying to get you to lighten up. Despite how different we were, I really liked having you around. It's always nice seeing different perspectives. You could still probably work on the ominous staring though... /lh

Vhamp: You don't even understand how much I miss you, Vhamp. You did so much for me. You helped me build Wubbox, you were always the first to support and listen to me whenever things got to be too much for me, and most importantly, you made me feel loved. What we had was special, and I miss it more than anything else. Wherever you are, please know that I'm still out there, and I love you (/r).

Syncopite: Well, first of all, I forgive you for your rock fragments always being attracted to my staff (I still have no idea why that happened so much but whatever lmao). In all seriousness, you were really cool! You were always really good at bringing us all together, and that was really important sometimes! Once again, someone being a better leader than I am... I really appreciate it :)

Scaratar: I know you'd probably be so pissed-off that I saved you for last, but I promise it's nothing personal lmao. In fact, I always found you super sweet! You did more to help out with the newly-created Monsters than anyone else, and not only was that really nice of you, but it was always really funny to see you introduce each of your ladybugs to the baby Monsters, just to see how they'd react. I personally thought they were adorable, by the way.

...Yep, that's about it! Sorry for writing an essay lmao. I just really miss my friends, and I want to let them know how much I care :)

-Galvana