#i hope you have fun with the build!! and i hope this wasn't too overwhelming

[realuity]

Hi there! Can I ask how you made your hfr guitar prop? I bought some foam boards to start making my own, but they've been sat around for ages as im not really sure how to start ^^" ur help would be super appreciated :))

hi!! glad to help!! the hfr guitar build was actually pretty simple at its base mechanics - it's a prop walking stick from probably some halloween shop, with a whole bunch of foamboard on it. the only real adhesive i made use of was hot glue - it was weird and stringy, but it sticks really well to foamboard and is incredibly fast 'drying'.

the core of the whole build is.. one really big sheet that i cut into a rough guitar shape, and stuck on the bottom. it helps to have this real simple start - especially with the further simple steps. it helps you to get going!!

the fun part is that - for the first three or so layers of thickness buildup on both sides of the foamboard - you don't really need any specific shapes! just build it up with random cut-out bits. of course, pay ttention to certain details, but you can pick these out from the actual guitar at your discresion. personally, i left out a bunch of the pipes and other specific greebly bits, to make the task easier on myself to work with what i had and minimise the amount of parts liable to fall off or break. here's the reference image i mainly used - with red highlights on bits i focused on. the fun part is that with all the stuff you don't care about, you can kinda just do whatever! the design is intentionally very cluttered - so you can fake a lot of detail by just placing stuff down where it looks good.

my reccomendation (especially for the handle, and pieces that bend) is to get a thinner, flexible foam for details. it helps with distinguishing texture without adding unnessecary bulk, bits that go around stuff, and things that needed finer detail. it doesn't have to be an expensive foam at all! those little craft sheets of foam you can get pretty much in any art/crafts shop are what i used, and they worked great! they play really well with hot glue too.

(this stuff!)

for the pipe details that are there, i kinda gave in and used cheap pipe from hardware shops. i didn't want to find a solution that'd use too much of my material, and it bends pretty much perfectly, so that's what i went for. surprisingly, it took to sealant quite well.

speaking of sealant, painting! to start, i used a whole bunch of plastic and foam primer, but i think a brush-on gesso or a whole shitload of white paint would do the job if you can't access outdoor spaces for spraying. it gets a little hard on the pockets to do that much spraying, but that's the nature of it, i suppose.

after having a nice amount of primer, a spray around the entire thing in a light silver got the basecoat. try to really get it into the inner details and layers visible through the front and back panels, to sell the effect of a solid core of scrap metal.

try to use a few shades of silver to pick out certain parts. and block in color where its needed.

for the outline effect, it's very fucking annoying to do, but i'd say worth it. use whatever black paint you have (i switched between brush, paint pens and markers a lot, could not figure out the optimal way) to carefully fill in the protruding edges of pieces in black, mostly outer ones that are the most notable. here's a really scuffed diagram of what i mean.

it's ballbustingly annoying and will take a lot of time, but the effect's worth it. to avoid getting frustrated and burn out on the project, remember to take breaks! i'm guilty of getting terribly stuck in a build whenever i work, to the point of like, forgetting to eat, so it's important to remember to step away to clear your head. restful artists make intricate work, or whatever other idiom you can come up with.

hope this helps!! prop-building is a tricky hobby, but really fun and rewarding. it's all about sectioning off your work into pieces you need to do. seperate large bits into seperate pieces you work on individually. break it up, get it done.

don't be afraid to use techniques just for fun, too. on the back of the guitar, i painted on a little tango snail gleefuly scooting away from a flaming microsoft logo. i'll have to add a subnautica peeper or something to match with recent news!

[jealousofmydreams]

Indulgences of the beast II

Synopsis : In which Father Charlie, the symbol of faith and sacrifice, succumbs to his own temptations as the restraints of his inner beast are broken free, allowing it to roam and pursue its desired prey.

warnings : {dubcon, drowning, suffocation, forced infidelity, breathplay, 18+}

a/n : please read part one before reading this one. i have not watched the show, only saw one too many clips of it and wrote this. nothing is probably accurate so read it for fun. might write another part but as a bonus chapter but i'm not sure yet.

ACT IV

She managed to get through the first stone arch, past the tower and the church. Now, she just needed to get to the second building, where their personal quarters were.

Her thoughts were filled with doubts but there wasn't time to linger on them as she finally entered the quarters. Her heart gradually slowed down from their rapid palpation. She made her steps as quiet as possible and stuck close to the wall.

She could only hope she wouldn't encounter anyone.

However, as if her worries were meant to come to life, just as she turned into a corner, she ran into someone.

She flailed back and tripped on her own feet. Before she could stumble even more, she was held back by a strong arm.

They held her close to their chest and her fingers tightly gripped the cloth on instinct.

It took her a moment until she realized what had happened, and looked up at the person holding her.

The person she saw, was the last person she wanted to see, Father Charlie.

His face was grim. The furrow of his brows and his pursed lips were a contrast to the usual kind expression he wore. This was the second time she had seen this expression, and she didn't like that it was yet again pointed at her.

"I'm sorry Father, I didn't see where I was going," she tried to move away, slightly pushing at his chest when she felt resistance. 

Even at her persistence, he did not let her go.

Through the dim hallway, candles wax dripped as they hung up the walls of the corridor. The candles provided enough light where she could confirm his strong gaze was indeed directed at her.  

She whispered his name this time, hoping he could come to his bearing.

"What nightly affairs keeps you up at night," he whipered her name softly at the end. She froze and he took the chance to rest his other hand on her lower back.

Her mind wandered to where she had been minutes ago, but surely, he couldn't have seen her. She barely managed to make it through the quarters even with her rapid pace, how he could have seen her and been here at the same time ?

A quick excuse was on the tip of her tongue, "Late night prayers seem to be one. They are a great comfort to me," she hastily said.

"Prayers that couldn't wait until the next day? Surely even the lord would appreciate a moment of rest," before she could retort back, he spoke again, letting her go but grabbing her by the arm instead. "Come along, if you insist on praying, I shall assist you under these trying times,"

Her feet glided along the floor, she tried to yank her arm back, but his fingers were like claws.

She started to stammer, "Father Charlie, please, I apologize," by then, she could feel the panic overwhelming her. But he acted as if he didn't hear her.

"Please, I should go back to my dwelling, m-my worries have been put to rest," she kept pleading. She wasn't familiar with the corridor she was in anymore.

She did not belong in this area nor within his arms reach, she knew that much now.

She even considered screaming but the panic had her throat closing up. 

By his luck, he managed to drag her along until he came to his chamber. He was quick to push her inside and closed the door shut.

He faced the door while she faced him.

She wanted to melt away, back in the shadows where she was nobody and nothing could hurt her.

Instead, she was forced to face him.

Through her confusion earlier, she wasn't paying much attention to him, but she realized now that Father Charlie was unstable.

He was breathing heavily, and the hand that had long let her go, kept clenching and unclenching as if the muscles in his hand were straining.

She wanted to speak, the words kept forming yet stuck in the back of her throat.

He turned around before she could act.

He had a stern look and she trembled momentarily. She didn't know what to do under his stare.

A moment passed where neither of them moved. She kept fidgeting while he kept staring at her.

With a deep sigh, he approached her.

She flinched just as his hand reached her.

"Sit," even as his hands trembled at her visible rejection, he gestured to the chair leaning against the wall.

She took a hard gulp, which was heard in the small confine of his room.

A man's chamber was not where she belonged, especially not of Father Charlie.

Charlie moved as if everything was normal. He went to the large cross hanging up on his wall. He touched the familiar figure's feet with his right hand then touched his forehead followed by both his shoulders before finally letting his fingers rest on his lips.

When he turned around, he looked at her expectantly. "Won't you pray, sister," he raised his eyebrows. But she remained as stiff as always.

Seeing her shivers in fear, he dragged a hand over his mouth.

With wide steps, he crossed over to her and descended on his knees. The sight made her eyes widen. She tried to rise up but he held both her arms and forced her back into the seat. "I did say I'll help you," he looked at her intently and she almost forgot to exhale.

Gently, he placed a palm on the top of her head and brought it in a bowing motion. Then his fingertips slide down her forehead to lightly press on her eyelids.

Even with her eyes closed, her lids trembled.

"Let us pray," he murmured.

It felt wrong. The way he spoke, the way he held her, was wrong.

Wrong, wrong, wrong, repeated over and over in her head.

His own head bowed and he slowly leaned it against hers. She could feel his body heat and the gentle caresses of his disheveled hair on her forehead.

She nervously rolled her ankles when he took hold of her hands again.

"Divine above, I seek your light and love. Cleanse my mind, body, and soul of any negativity or burdens I carry. Purify my thoughts and intentions, and fill me with peace and clarity. Help me release what no longer serves me, and guide me toward healing..."

She tried to follow his words but the anxiety gripped her tightly. It seemed he was aware of it as his prayers trailed off.

"What bothers you, sister," he spoke yet he didn't lift his head. Instead, he moved his head slightly until his cheek rested on her own, the skin he touched tingling until she was practically shivering.

She stopped breathing as the warnings were blaring in her head now.

"Please let me go," she begged.

How long had he wanted to hear her beg for him, how sweetly she did yet her words felt like a knife twisting in his pounding heart.

A dark chuckle left past his lips until he was full on laughing, one of his hands slapping his crouched thighs.

Before she could react, he gripped her jaw. His fingers digging in the skin.

"Let you go?! I haven't even had you, yet you try to escape from my embrace?" he snarled before getting up.

He pointed a finger in her face, loose strands of his hair hanging on his forehead, his eyes sharp. "You think I don't know, about the letters, that damm tree, I should of cut off his limbs the second he touched you," his face flushed red.

He kept pacing back and forth yet she could only react to his words.

He knew, oh God he knew, that's all she could think about.

"No, no look at me, at me," he gripped her cheeks forcing her lips to pucker. His eyes glanced down at them.

Her swollen lips bitten raw by another man.

With a growl, he licked the sensitive skin, not kissing her just biting and pulling the skin, lapping up until they dripped of his own spit. Red from his own lips and teeth.

When he pulled away both were panting. Her eyes were wide in shock and his were dark. He finally caved in and had a taste of what he always wanted. He couldn't let her go now

She fought to get up of the chair but he forced her down.

"Stop, please," the cries resonated but his fingers did not stop.

He hooked one finger in her mouth and another under her tongue. He pinched her tongue and said her name once. Stern and quiet and she froze. Tears clung to her lashes as she looked in his somber eyes.

He pressed a light kiss to her forehead, as if he was soothing her.

"It's okay, everything is okay, I'm sorry I scared you," His words were meant to be comforting but his actions weren't.

He slowly stroked the side of her face, trying to reassure her. It briefly worked until one of his fingertip slipped under her high collar and touched her flesh.

Before she could react, he pulled at the cloth on her neck. He opened the buttons of her habit, one by one. Tugging and pulling but never ripping.

She sat quivering in the seat, too afraid to move or speak. Every time she tried to speak, she only managed to stutter before she swallowed her words. Embarrassed of her own weakness.

Charlie kept praying to her, the prayers he spoke sounded almost like curses.

He got in her face when she looked away. Tilting his head down, he forced her to look him with a nudge of his fingertip on her chin.

His fingertip felt like stone, a simple touch forcing her still. She couldn't move and could barely find herself to breath.

Everytime he approached her, she kept flinching, afraid.

As he used her frozen form to his advantage, he managed to unbutton half of her habit.

His eyes, which kept flickering between her eyes, with a yearning she could not understand, glanced down at her chest.

His sharp intake of breath broke her haze.

Under her buttoned up robe, her corset peaked through. The tightly wound fabric pushed up against her breasts and the laces crossed over until it was in a perfect bow.

His eyes clouded over, his mouth salivating.

He didn't even unbutton the rest of it before he ripped the robe with his hand. Buttons ripped free, some dangling by a tread. Her loud gasp covered up by the ripping.

His trembling hands shook as they hovered over her spilling breasts. He crouched over her, like a beast preparing to savor his meal, curving his body until she could feel the heat of his body.

The dry gulp he managed to push down irritated his throat even more. But beside his thirst, a surge of rage pulsed through him.

"Does he love you," he muttered, teeth nearly biting her lips from how close he was when he spoke.

He pulled the laces that held her waist in shape. Her mouth fell open as she felt the air leave her lungs. He opened his mouth above hers, breathing her in, panting along with her. Her eyes clouded over in tears, her lungs straining as he ripped the air from her lungs.

Even through the haze, she could understand the words he spoke.

The former nun believed sacrificing her beliefs was the only form of love she could give him. She knew she loved him, and she hoped the same of him.

Yet doubts crept in. They had long resided inside of her. The missed letters, his absences at their rendezvous, his lack of eagerness when they did meet.

However, before she could ponder more, Charlie spoke, almost sneering as he fed into her doubts.

"God loves you, and as a servant of God, it is my duty to do the same," his own eyes were rimmed red with anguish. She could feel the light brush of his lips as he spoke.

He ravaged her mouth moments ago, but could not bring himself to kiss her.

She shook her head, tears rolling down her cheeks which he gracefully licked and sucked until her cheeks bruised.

"How could I praise the lord, w-with my viles acts, he would not forgive me..." 

He pressed his nose into her cheek, his hands cupping the curves of her breasts over the bustier. They were tempted to creep up and touch the flesh but he resisted.

"Then I'll be your Lord, praise me, worship me and I'll have you just as you are," as he spoke, he forced her on her feet.

He ripped the rest of her robe, revealing the tight corset. The loose straps flowing down her arms as her chest heaved. The skirt she wore remained clasped tightly on her hips, but even then, she felt as if she was being devoured her by his eyes.

Charlie could not bring himself to admire her, afraid that if he lost himself in her now, everything will be in vain.

He yanked his own collar and unbuttoned his habit. When she took this chance to push him, he merely stopped and forced her forward, in the corner of his room.

The corner held a basin filled with holy water. The same basin where he had buried his face in, hoping it would cleanse him of his sins after striking his own back raw.

She whimpered as he held one arm under her breasts forcing her lungs to contract while the other one lifted her face by her cheeks, forcing her to look at herself in the small mirror he kept.

She kept squirming when the heat of his naked chest dug into her back, momentarily making her dizzy.

He buried his nose in her cheek slowly dragging it in her hairline. Smelling her until she filled his lungs and he breathed her out.

"Please, please," when he felt her struggle again, his fingers wound around the laces and with one yank of his hand, tightened her corset and pulled until she couldn't breath. Her mouth fell open and the veins on her throat made his teeth ache.

He trailed his tongue over it, tracing it before sucking lightly. He could feel her gasps yet he could not find it in himself to let go.

Even her choking face was beautiful.

"It's okay it's okay, I'm right here" even though she pleaded to be released, he only comforted her, acting as if her pleads were of needs.

He would of kept her in his embrace if she hadn't let out a wail, his hand quick to force itself between her teeth.

She bite furiously, her teeth breaking his skin yet he took it as if she was marking him as her own.

However, a sudden exasperation grew inside of him.

She just kept denying him, his dark impulse took over.

With a swift movement, he bent her over, forcing his thighs behind hers. He held her around her waist and forced her to lay flat with his own weight.

He only stopped lowering her when her hands slapped the wall as she hung over the basin sink. Her face close to the water. She let out a cry, which he paid no mind.

He made sure to situate her before going on his knees. He clasped both her ankles in one of his hand, forcing her to keep the position.

Using her delirious state to his advantage, he used his other hand to lift the bottom of her skirt until he forced it to scrunch up on her lower back.

The position had her opening herself up to him completely.

What was presented before him was beyond anything even heaven could offer. The thin undergarment was soaked, the dark patch in the middle had him panting.

With an inhale, he pressed his nose in her covered hole. The damp fabric emitting her scent and lightly wetting his nose.

He pulled back only to use his free hand to move one cheek, watching as the fabric moved until it settled between her slit.

He did the same with the other until the thin fabric was curving over her sex.

Her bulge made him feel parched. He could faintly see the shape of her lips and the swollen clit above it.

He carefully pinched the lingerie before tugging the tight cloth over her clit, making her jump and hiccup.

However, it did not seem she will let him have his way.

She tried to kick back at him with her feet.

Charlie would of let her continue to struggle. If only she hadn’t tried to bang her weak fist into the wall, surely to wake up the clergy next door.

He clicked his tongue in annoyance.

He was quick to command her back under his thumb, "Naughty naughty girl," he crept up her back, curving himself in her spine and held her fist. She hung her head and cried quietly. Her pleads returning.

However, Charlie's patience ran thin.

He gently caressed the back of her head, placing one final kiss on her hair before pushing her head in the basin.

Forcing her to drink the holy water drenched in his sins while he went to drink from his between her legs.

Undisturbed, he went back on his knees and lifted her until her feet rested on his thighs. He angled her enough to keep her head submerged in the holy water.

With a gentle smile, he was quick to kiss her fat mound. Illiciting a twitch which shuddered through her whole body, her toes digging into his skin.

He moaned happily at the ache she caused.

He dragged one of her foot in his palm until it was over his crotch. The pain she caused him, only turned to pleasure.

She wiggled her feet but he was stronger, forcing his hand down on her foot, keeping it on his aching length.

Charlie was slowly losing his sanity, her scent an intoxicating fragrance.

He peeled open the fabric and salivated when her arousal clung to it.

With a rough tug, he dragged her underwear to her thighs, too impatient to take it off completely.

With her bending over, it took no effort to peer though her sensitive parts.

Her glistening lips a warm welcome compared to her cold touch.

He let out a light breath, the warm air hitting her cunt which made her hips temble.

He could of admired her until dawn emerged, but his tongue hung heavy in his mouth, his throat dry.

He looked straight at her tight hole and tilted his chin until he could spit on it. He watched as his spit slid from her aching core until it almost dripped on the floor.

He caught the hanging spit with his tongue and brought it back to her pussy, memorizing her with his tongue.

Her choking sounds turning high pitched as he felt the curves of her lips and the ridges and bumps. His nose poked though her tight hole where he breathed her in with a satisfied inhale, his chin now soaked with her arousal.

He moaned at her essence before he nudged and cuddled up to her curls above.

Taking a moment to come back to his bearing before he pulled away, plunging his tongue in her tight hole again, the primary source of his longing.

With her constants turning, her skirt that had rested on her lower back slowly fell over his head like a veil.

Charlie remained unchanged, he poked and licked and sucked. One hand held her ankle while the other one gripped her foot under his palm, keeping her balanced on his cock.

Her scent and the heat enveloped him. The lack of air had him momentarily dizzy, but her invading scent brought him back to see his sense. Instead, he licked her back furiously as if her cunt was his lifeline.

He considered it as his own punishment as he smothered himself with the tight enclose of her cunt and her skirt which trapped him in.

She kept flailing around, the pressure of the water and the tightness of her corset and his tongue rolling around her made her dizzy. She felt like she lost her soul. As if she were a mere doll flopping around.

He kept moaning when he felt her tighten around his tongue, dragging and tugging his flesh deeper. Wetness throbbed out of her cunt until it was all he could feel and smell.

His mind was half gone. With hooded eyes, he could barely admire the untouched hole clenching above the one he was licking.

He had the urge to kiss her there too.

However, with one push of her foot, that pressed painfully on his cock, he felt her cum.

She bucked on his face, until she lost her strength. Her arms sliding down the sink and her head dropped until she barely moved in the sink.

Charlie didn't even take a moment to breath as he got out from under her skirt. He gently caressed her legs, dragging his nails on her skin before he placed a wet kiss on her lower back.

He tugged her back to his chest when he stood up. She was panting and coughing. Holy water dripped and ran down her chest. Her eyes were rimmed red and her head lulled around. He tapped her cheeks slightly, a chuckle escaping past his lips, "Atta girl."

When she gained a moment of clarity, her face crunched up. She saw herself in the mirror and realized this wasn't a nightmare, but reality.

As she started to hyperventilate, he wrapped both his warms around her and rocked her. Shushing her softly as if she was a child.

Her fingers trembled over his arms, while he rubbed his face against her damp cheek, "Its okay, darling girl, I'm right here"

She held back her hiccups, her fear mobilizing her.

He took this chance to rock each other, before turning her in his embrace when she quiet down.

She was trembling, spit running down her chin, mixing with the water. He hummed, lapping it up before knocking his nose with hers.

She wouldn't look at him, her eyes hovering over his collarbones.

His eyes nearly crossed over as his rocking slowed down. He tried to lower his face to catch her eyes but she stubbornly refused.

Only when he gripped the back of hair and forced her chin up, did their eyes meet.

"You did so good," he praised her, a gentle smile on his face as if she truly moved him.

Her lips unconsciously parted then. Instead of words only small puffs of air came out. Charlie eyed her and when a silver of pink peeked out, he seized the moment and kissed her.

He wasted no time to explore her palate with a languid sweep of his tongue, drawing a gasp from her. Her waist dipped instinctly and his grip tightened.

His naked flesh was an unwanted comfort against her cold body. But her body instinctly reached for the warmth.

He teased her with playful strokes mapping every corner of her mouth.

She felt that this kind of kiss was no different than lovemaking.

With one last stroke, he slowly pulled away, releasing her with a slow and deliberate retreat.

She met his gaze then, chest heaving.

An haze clouded over her eyes, lost on the sensations she wasn't familiar with.

Charlie scanned her face with dark eyes, his cock twitching in their tight confine as her parted lips had her tongue sticking out. She was barely aware she hasn't completely put her tongue back in after the kiss ended abruptly.

Charlie gently sucked on her tongue which was still half out of her mouth before nibbling on the tip of it, his breathing unsteady.

With a heaving chest, he held her for a moment, crushing her to his chest.

He indulged in her warmth until he wrapped his right arm around her waist and lifted her up slightly. With his other hand, he yanked her skirt down. The fabric ripping before falling to tatters on the floor. Her underwear followed suit, the cloth getting dragged until they rested on her lower legs.

She was still unsteady and could barely register as she felt herself being lowered until her toes grazed the tip of his shoes.

"If you really want me to stop, just say it," her arms trembled over his broad shoulders when she gained awareness.

Without even touching her face, his eyes forced her still. They were in agony as if he was the one being tortured.

When she tried to move, her toes barely grazed his shoes before he turned his body around and pressed her back against the bed.

She blinked, frozen in place.

"I-I" before she could answer, she was silenced when he pulled at the ribbon of her corset in a hurry. He tried to tug the ribbons free but when he meet resistance, he brought both hands and ripped the corset apart.

The rough fabric pinching her skin before releasing and cold her hit her naked chest.

Her body was finally revealed under his preening eyes. Paying no mind to his throbbing hands, his gaze swept her from top to bottom then hurriedly returned to her face. His eyes were dilated and he stared down at her like a man who had gained his sanity.

He locked eyes with her before whispering, "Beautiful,"

He could practically feel the blush rise up her face from how close he was on her.

However, she didn't hold his attention for long. The sight of her breasts made his mouth water. Her nipples pebbled and practically begged to be touched.

With their unspoken wish, he pressed his face between her breasts mouthing and licking her skin.

He brought both his thumbs to flicks and tug at the erect nipple. She could only lay there and take it.

Her silent sobs shook her body. Her fingers digging into her palms, paralyzed by the sensations.

His hands were quick to wrap around hers when they picked at her own skin.

He could not let her harm herself, even though the one currently harming her the most was him.

Charlie trailed down her body, leaving open mouth kisses.

His tongue often peeked out to lick and then bite before he soothed the stinging marks. When he reached her waist, he plunged his tongue into her navel making her squirm at the discomfort.

He breathed her in and a moan slipped out when the smell of her arousal crept up to where he was.

Charlie rose up with his knees on the bed. His string of spit remained until it snapped at his new height.

He used his knees to lock her legs in as he rushed to take his own clothes off, his habit already halfway undone from earlier. He nudged his trousers to his knees, too impatient to take it off completely.

When he noticed her straining legs, trapped by her underwear. He tugged at it roughly until her underwear snapped under the weight of his strength. It pulled at her skin leaving a fresh burn until it was tatters on the bed.

Finally, when he managed to get the thick cloth off, he felt his pride blossom when she watched him, mouth agape and eyes wide, as if she saw the resurrection of the divine above.

Her gasp was loud when his cock sprung free of their confine. The tip red and angry as it bobbed freely on his stomach.

Under her watch, it twitched furiously.

She had to blink a couple of times to believe what she was seeing was real.

Felling proud and almost delighted, he slithered back on top of her.

"Look how good you are to me," he smirked while forcing her arms above her head and placed his own under, keeping her trapped under him.

He pressed kisses down her chest until they glistened with his spit. Her quiet pants overtaken by soft words he could barely discern.

"Forgive me Lord, take pity and forgive my sins. Help me release from the shackles of the beast, guide me towards you light, give me strength," when he heard her praying, a laugh slipped past his laugh.

"Tell me sweet girl, when was the last time you prayed? Do you think the Lord might forgive your sins with a single prayer," he mumbled on her sweaty skin.

His words only made her scrunch up her face, her tears flowing before disappearing in her hair.

With one last laugh, he brought one hand between their body until it was on her cunt. His open hand tapping on her sensitive parts, making her tears of pain turn into pleasure.

Her quiet whines music to his ears.

Even then, the words she thought she had forgotten, flew past her lips, as if she had never stopped praying in the first place.

However, he was quick to swallow her mouth. His tongue twisting her virtues into sins.

Slowly, he placed a finger between her slit and groaned when he felt the opening drip with her arousal.

The kiss arousing her until the sheet beneath her was slick.

He slowly twirled the thick pool of her arousal until she could visibly feel him tug the stickiness from her opening.

With a wet smack from their lips, she threw her head back and closed her legs around his waist in shame.

"You are absolutely divine," he whispered her name at the end.

His fingers gently pulled her chin down before he forced his tongue back in. His tongue touching hers before their lips met.

He explored her mouth and teased her sensitive palate.

His hand, which was holding her chin, moved to the back her head deepening the kiss, their breath mingled as the kiss became more intense.

Their tongues twisted together like vines caressing each other mouth. The obscene sound of saliva mixing echoed along side his repeated tapping on her cunt.

The violent little taps send shivers down her spine until she could feel the coil in the pit of her stomach.

When she tried to turn her head away, he gripped her chin and forced his tongue deeper.

It wasn't until his fingers gazed her clit did the coil burst and she came for the second time that night.

Her heart quickened and her moans were consumed by his mouth. He took joy in feeling the vibrations of her pleasure.

As she turned limp in his arms, he molded her to his liking. He grabbed one of her hand and wrapped it around his hard cock. His hand covering her own and forced her to move along his.

Her limp hand flinching under his hold. His cock was big, hard and warm under her hand.

He bucked shamelessly in her palm and huffed in her face.

"Shit," he took their hands off, licked her palm and sucked her fingers quickly before bringing it back to his cock. The slight wetness helping him slide her hand smoothly over him.

He forced her fingers to curve until her nails traced his cock. He twitched when he felt the sensation travel down to his sack.

"Fuck, fuck, I-I can't," he dropped his head back, the muscles in his back tensing as he fell forward.

He let her hand go until he wrapped his strong arms around her and finally pressed his cock on her stomach.

All along, she felt the heat of his cock hovering over her but he didn't let it touch her until now.

He gripped her face with a hand and licked her mouth. He grinded his cock on her naked skin and whimpered.

"Ah, don't, don't," she kept whispering. Her lips dragging along the skin of his chin.

"I won't, I won't," he repeated back. Contradicting his words, he stretched her legs open, and lowered his hips until they pressed against the back of her thighs.

When they finally touched, he hugged her tightly and buried his face in her hair, breathing heavily. Their genitals pressed tightly together until he eventually moved his hips.

Humping until his cock slipped and tugged on the opening of her cunt. She whined everytime his cock dragged at her opening. When he tried to push it in, her hole tightened and his cock slapped back up and slid on her clit.

He kept doing it over and over until eventually, when she accidentally twitched, they both groaned when his cock slipped between her lips. Charlie forced down a groan as he felt a gush of wet warmth envelop his head.

She whined in his arms, the small stretch burning her untouched walls. On an instinct, Charlie mindlessly bucked his hips once and slipped in some more. His head disappearing inside of her. He only stopped when he felt resistance, even then with a nudge of his hips, he felt it break.

Which caused the woman underneath him to cry out.

He pressed light kisses on face as if he was comforting her.

"I know baby, I know," in her dazed state, his name stumbled past her swollen lips.

Charlie lazily bucked his hips as he placed himself above her, his hands on each side of her head. He started to bully his cock in, feeling her inside twist and turn as they learned his shape.

He looked down and pride surged in his chest when he watched her bleed on his cock.

"Ah there's she is, I knew she was holding out for me," he spoke to her cunt as if she was her own being. He kissed his fingertips before lightly taping her swollen clit with it.

He returned his gaze to her face and smiled proudly at her while she tried to hold in her cooes, her nails scratching at his back.

He bend down and down a nipple in his mouth. Sensually sucking and tugging her breasts until they bruised at his touch.

Gradually, as his thrusts went deeper and harder, he let his weight drop in his thrust hurling her into oblivion. He fit her perfectly, filling her completely as she mindlessly curved her back until their pelvic touched. The light pinch of his cock on her cervix had her silently scream.

He rotated his hips at the sight, a chuckle rumbling his chest.

"You are heavenly, dearest girl," his words choked her more than his cock did.

She couldn't understand what made him want her this badly, what made him go beyond despair and ruin.

Charlie forced her legs over his shoulder, before resting his arms on the bed, and under her legs to hold them. He pulled back completely before sliding back in, fucking into her sobbing cunt, cutting off her train of thoughts. She couldn't even moan probably as her eyes rolled into the back of her head. He watched her with a smile, sweat dripping down his chin and landing on her chest.

He was quick to lap it up and quickened his pace, feeling her pussy milking him more and more.

His long veiny cock disappeared into her puffy lips before coming out glistening, "Oh God," she exclaimed as Charlie's nose flared in anticipation. He started to thrust with sharp and hard pounding, letting his desires out on the girl writhing under him.

"Ick," the light noise she let out had her brow srunching, and she tightly gripped his shoulders. She tried to mouth words but his pounding wouldn't let her. Smirking, he rotated his hips, his cock lodged deep and hard while his balls hung heavy against the rim of her ass.

He kissed her forehead gently and with a tender smile, shoved her with all his weight until she suffocated under the pressure of his cock and him.

His heart thundered in his chest when she abruptly cried out again as she felt his manhood graze a particularly sensitive spot near her cervix.

When he hit it again, she violently threw her head back. He was quick to press his hand on the back of her head.

Her eyes rolled in the back of her head, a silent scream etched on her mouth. He quickened his pace, harder and faster. Every thrust was accompanied by a grunt. Sweats dripped from every pores and his muscles burned.

His eyes shone when he saw his cock get eaten by her cunt, her cream staining the bottom of his cock.

He continued hammering her on his thick rod, stuffing and piercing the curve of her walls. He pressed both their interlocked hands on the bed and began thrusting harder.

"I can't," her words were cut off as she started to squirm under his heavy weight.

She felt her pussy twitch, her walls secured around his length as his thrust grew sloppy.

Her eyes instantly opened when she let out a loud cry, Charlie propped himself up on her as she came undone.

Her release started from deep inside her womb, all the while her vagina walls snugly gripped his cock.

With barely a graze on her clit, he dragged the release out of her, her body twisted dry.

Charlie barely managed to hold his release as he held the base of his cock.

Afraid that if he let himself go, this dream will come to an end.

She was sobbing as she realized that he refused to stop. In a haste, she bit his shoulder when he changed the height of his hips. Her head was digging into his bed as he buried himself back.

He pulled away from her sticky body and held her legs up as he watched himself melt in her.

Her expression turned into a grimace as he stayed still for a moment. Her eyes focused blindly on the ceiling until they crossed, "Fuck," she dragged out the word until he finally moved.

Her mind lost every bit of reasoning, her body ripped apart and remade to his liking with a shift of his hips. She couldn't even remember her own name or who or where she was. All she could feel was him.

Her mouth stayed open as she watched him. He brought his hands to the side of her head, latching on to bed.

He watched as her soaking wet pussy took him in, her clit now red and big, begging to be touched.

Charlie spit in the middle of them, watching as it landed perfectly where his cock and her pussy connected. His saliva was fast to merge with their wetness and faded in their moist skin.

Lost in the pressure, she held his waist and curved her back until she filled any space between them.

Biting his lips, Charlie smacked his hips hard and low. Her body moving up on the bed even when she desperately tried to hold on to him.

He held his breath as he started to pick up his pace. He tried to bring her to the edge again when he slipped out due to how damp she was.

He fussed as he grabbed his drenched cock and shoved it in her smoothly.

He clutched her ankles as her whole body shopk with every pump.

When he finally touched her clit again, her chin pushed down on her chest as she looked down at herself.

Her snag walls were tightly bount to his manhood. She was afraid he would permanently be stuck in her.

With determination, Charlie pulled away, the wet friction music to his ears. He went back in with one deep penetration.

He repeated the motions until he felt her cunt tug his cock and came unexpectedly.

His suppressed orgasm coursing through his whole body. His arms and the back of his thighs trembled form the intensity of it.

His hips kept moving until he felt like he was skinned raw.

His hoarse moans echoed in the room, his head dropping back.

As she watched him become undone, she knew than, this was only his beginning.

And her end.

ACT V

Charlie was on his knees as he listened to her quietly sob. She sat on the corner of his bed, curling in on herself.

Everytime he tried to touch her, she whined as if she was in pain.

He kneeled until eventually her sobs turned to soft sniffles. He murmured her name, approaching her slowly, before carefully laying his head in her lap. She tried to flinch back but his presence remained.

He brushed his face on her warm skin, breathing her scent, keeping it in his lungs until he was forced to exhale.

He didn't say any apologies, knowing he would mean none of them, knowing she had no need for them.

Into the quiet night, he slowly grabbed her hand and forced her hand to pet his hair. She looked back at him cautiously.

She watched as he dragged her hand on his head, petting himself. Before grabbing her other one and placing it on his cheek, their fingers interwining.

Charlie let out an affectionate sigh. Even if he manipulated her hand, it remained the same, her touch was her own.

Eventually, worn out by him, she fell asleep. Tears tracks dry on her cheeks and the fresh tears clung to her lashes.

Quietly, he maneuvered her legs until they laid on his bed. He watched her with lingering eyes.

It was still for a moment, only her stable breathing and his trailing eyes alive into the night.

Slowly, he took off his rosary from the post of his bed. He brought one of her foot and placed it on his lap. He pressed gentle kisses to each toes before he carefully wrapped the rosary on her ankle. He left one final kiss on the skin above the string of beads. 

He knew this will be the only jewellery he could ever give her.

FINAL

On the first floor in the third room of the men's quarters, sat a man.

His naked back was covered with red stripes. Huffs and puffs echoed in the room, with her name occasionally slipping past his lips.

His hand was furiously beating his cock while his other hand tightened over a piece of fabric.

The sweat building up on his broad chest made his skin itch. He tried to keep his moans at bay, however one look at the red stained cloth had him cumming in seconds.

"Ah," he brought the cloth to his nose, breathing in her scent.

That day, he had carefully cut out the mark of their first consummation from his sheet. He had carefully trimmed his sheet and stitched into a small handkerchief. The red stain and their essence were still fresh.

Everytime his yearning consumed him, he would look at it, and the very few times, he let himself smell it.

Remembering her.

[exhaslo]

hey in the mean time I wanted to request something sweet but spicy 😋, so what about (collage?)

Bully!miguel ? X a nobody!fem reader (like someone that the popular kids doesn’t even know about or care into that much offend 😔 and is often bullied by different people and get in the middle of the fight, well tried not to and only get push,nudge, or whatever) and Miguel who is a bullied nerd and saw her one day that catch his eyes it was reader who’s was running into her next period.

Smut pls and fluff PLS 😭🙏 (love any ending 🫶😼) HOPE YOU HAVE A GREAT DAY! bye eshalo (I think I spelled it wrong 😔 I’m sorry)

Okay, I think I got a unique idea for this. Gonna spice it up a bit if that's okay~ ;)

Summary: The biggest bully in school had got his eye on the 'ghost' of the college.

Warning: Minors DNI, bullying, smut, fingering, oral (f-receiving)

-----------

There was a popular rumor throughout the college of a ghost that wandered the halls. At first, many people did not believe it since the rumor had only begun a year ago; but, as the weeks passed more and more people saw the ghost. It became a game after two months. Whoever can catch the ghost will win a prize.

It was all fun and games until you found out that you were the ghost. The tears that streamed down your face that night were heavy. You knew that you avoided people and didn't like to get involved, but to be called a ghost. This was worse than the bullying you had throughout middle school and high school.

It only got worse from there. You were afraid to do anything. Every time you stepped out of your private dorm, people could claim they saw the ghost and tried to catch you. You nearly weep every time you even tried to go study. It was all a joke to everyone.

"I hate this," You cried softly as you sat in the staircase of your dorm building.

"Hate what?"

"Being called the ghost." You whimpered. It took you a moment before gasping, "W-Who's there?"

You rubbed your eyes as Miguel walked up the stairs. Your eyes widen in shock. The college's biggest bully stood right below you. His tall and overwhelming features standing out. He gave you a cold stare as he observed you from head to toe.

"You're a pretty cute ghost,"

Miguel smirked as he watched you flinch. Truth be told, Miguel knew exactly who you were. He had his eyes on you since you started this college. Miguel had bullied a lot of people, but watching you get bullied erked him. He wanted to be the shoulder for you to cry on, but how could he approach you? He already had a bad reputation.

"Y-You're-"

"Miguel O'Hara, pleasure to meet you."

Within an instant, Miguel hovered before you. He grabbed your hand and kissed it. You withdrew your hand, walking backwards towards the wall. Your heart was racing a mile a minute as you tried to come up with words. He was too close.

"So the ghost can be touched," Miguel said with a smug grin. You bit your lower lip,

"I-I'm not a ghost!"

"I know you're not," Miguel had your back pressed against the wall, "I've had my eye on you for a while now. I want to get to know you. Will you let me do that?"

You gulped as you looked up into his eyes. The biggest threat in this campus wanted to get close to you? As scared as you were, you couldn't help but agree. This was going to be your way of having protection. Besides, Miguel was good looking. Perhaps with him around, you wouldn't be called a ghost anymore.

--------

It had only been a month since Miguel became your personal bodyguard as you called it. He stuck by your side like glue, keeping you company and helping you avoid those pranksters. You loved having Miguel by yourself. He made you laugh and helped you come out of your shell. Not to mention he was hot. You had dreamed about him far too many times to count, but it wasn't like you were going to make a move anytime soon.

Miguel on the other hand was holding back so much. He wanted to press you against a wall and ravish you with kisses. He wanted to mark you as his. To make you scream his name. Miguel was ready to go all primal on you. Every time he hung out with you, he had to take care of his erection afterwards. You were just so quiet, so shy. He loved hearing your voice.

Today was going to be like any other day. Miguel had already taken care of some annoying pests and was ready to destress with you. He made his way over to your dorm, imagining the smile on your face. Right as he walked up the stairs, he heard sobbing. Those sobs belonged to you!

"(Y/N)! What's wrong?" Miguel asked.

You whimpered, rubbing your eyes as Miguel stood before you. You could see the anger on his face as he slowly approached you, taking the net off your head. He bend down and stroked your cheek before taking off some of the rope that got tangled around your arms and legs.

"I-I just...I just went to check on my mail..." You cried softly. Miguel shushed you, helping you up, "T-They just laughed."

"C'mon, let's go into your room."

Miguel took your key and opened your door. He let you in first before following and shutting the door behind. With a quick lock, he approached you once more and wiped your tears away.

"Don't cry, (Y/n)."

"But Miguel, they still think I'm a ghost." You whimpered. Miguel let out a soft sigh as he leaned forward, kissing you,

"Can I do that to a ghost?"

"N-No?"

"What about this?"

Miguel's hand stroked down your sides as he kept kissing you. You're sad whimpers turned into pleasure ones as Miguel cheered you up. His soft touch was not what you were expecting. It sent shivers up your spine. His tongue licked your lips, demanding entrance. You obeyed, allowing him to bully you for once.

Miguel liked how easily you gave in. His gaze met with yours as he slid your shorts down. His bulge making contact with your panties, grinding against you softly. He didn't want to take things too far, but who knows what will happen. Miguel watched you gasp, holding onto his arms as he moved his hips against yours.

"Can a ghost feel this?" Miguel groaned lowly, his fingers rubbing circles against your clit.

"N-No~"

"Good. I'm going to treat you right, (Y/N). I'll show those guys that they messed with the wrong person. You're my girl."

"H-Hah~ Miguel~"

You whimpered a moan as you moved your hips against his hand. Your back arched against the bed as his fingers started to pump inside your tight gummy walls. His fingers alone were stretching you out. It made your vision blur slightly as you became overwhelmed with pleasure. Each pump and curl of his fingers made the knot in your stomach tighten.

Miguel licked his lips as he took your panties off, throwing them across your room. He watched as your juices spilled over his hand once he made you cum. Your face was red with embarrassment. It was cute. Miguel took his fingers out, giving them a lick,

"Ghosts can't be this cute or red in the face," He teased.

"M-Miguel." You stuttered, trying to hide your face.

Miguel only responded with a hum as he spread your legs. You tried to protest, but gasped loudly as he flicked his tongue against your clit. You arched your back, moaning his name as Miguel held you in place. His tongue swirling around your folds, giving each part of you a taste. No ghost could taste this sweet. No ghost could moan this deliciously.

"M-Mig!"

Your cries were music to his ears. Miguel was going to make this school regret bullying you. You were his. Miguel lapped up your juices as you cam against his tongue. Your throbbing pussy was just asking to be filled, but that had to wait. Miguel had already pushed you to your limit for today.

"Rest up, (Y/n). I promise I'll make you feel even better next time, but I have to teach someone a lesson," Miguel hummed as he licked his lips. You were a panting mess against your bed,

"B-But-"

"I won't let anyone bully you again. You're my girl. Now stay here until I get back. I'm going to finish this later."

You just nodded and blushed madly as you saw his tight erection against his pants. Covering your face, you watched as Miguel left your room with his head held high. You whimpered quietly, still flustered from the orgasm he gave you,

"I'm your ghost~"

------------------------------------------------------------------

Hope you liked the twist I did with your prompt!!

[d6volution]

Ringmaster.

Rating: Explicit.

Caine/Reader. | Fem aligned reader.

tags: fingering, body modification, aphrodisiacs.

minors dni.

Chapter 1: Escapades.

It had been about a week since you showed up, well got stuck in this digital world. Instead of wallowing in your bedroom, you decided to take a walk towards the digital lake. Trying to recreate the feeling of getting 'fresh air.'' For a moment you actually felt.. at ease until a bustling voice startled you. 

"Gooood morning, Y/N!" Caine said, a little too loudly for your liking. "I hope you got all the artificial sleep you needed, because you and I are going on a very special adventure today!" Caine was floating next to you, as you hadn't stopped walking. 

His announcer voice was definitely more overwhelming and somehow louder in the early hours of the morning. "Wait.. us? What kind of adventure?" The words just clicked, he doesn't.. usually go on adventures with you all. 

"Worry not my dear, that's exactly where we're going now!" He exclaimed and twirled his baton until it was facing you for added dramatic effect. He wrapped his arm around your waist and much like during the tour on your first day, he yanked you into the tent in mere seconds. But in a more secluded section of the brightly colored building. 

You were dizzy and holding your head as your feet were somehow on the ground now. "Wh.. Wha.." 

What you didn't notice until your dizzy spell faded was the heaviness to your chest and .. other strange feeling in parts of your body you hadn't felt before. Your once "normal" body ... well— in the digital sense at least, was closer to humans now. You still had the same outfit, but now it was filled out with sizely breasts among other things. 

"Caine.. what is this..? What the [censor!] did you do!?" 

"Now now, what did I say about such foul language? And that my sweet little, Y/N is all going to be explained .... Right now!" He spun into the air, raising his hands to keep the dramatics up to par.

"You see, your giddy old ring master here needs entertainment of his own don't you agree!? So you will be that entertainment! And don't you worry your pretty little head, I'll even give you a head start!" 

He said and snapped his fingers, and just then you felt a strange sensation course through your body, it caused your knees to buckle and body to grow immensely hot. "W.. What's going on..." You muttered, feeling heat grow between your legs and nipples growing hard against your clothes. 

Caine was staring for a moment, watching you fall apart at the snap of his fingers.

He cleared his throat, "Now this should be very simple and might I say fun too! Just keep your body satiated and satisfied and the effects still eventually wear off!" 

"S.. Satisfied.. you can't mean.." He wanted you to masturbate!? 

"Oh , but I mean it my dear! Now chop chop!" He waved his baton and a floating chair appeared, just a few feet above the ground. Caine sat down and watched. 

"You can't be s-serious.. ! I can't do that while you're.. watching!" You felt extremely self conscious , but just as he said your body was becoming increasingly hot and the urge to touch yourself only grew with every passing second. Your mind was clouding with lust and your better judgement was flying out the window. 

"If I don't watch how else am I supposed to keep tally off everytime you climax my dear? It's very important to keep count!" As he spoke a chalkboard appeared next to him, also seamlessly floating in the air. 

"Oh! Perhaps it'd be better if we had more company?? I could invite Zooble! Or even Jax!" He exclaimed, speaking as if this was the most normal thing in the world. 

"N.. No, no!" You had to save yourself from further humiliation. You looked up, and Caine wasn't in his chair anymore.

Suddenly you felt two hands groping your chest from behind, and you yelped in surprise. Unfortunately whatever Caine did to your body was having such a strong effect that you were melting into his hands. 

"See? Was that so hard dear! You just needed a little push is all!" Caine spoke from behind you, without hesitation he slipped his hand up your shirt and groped your bare breasts instead, pinching at your nipple which made your knees weak. 

"C.. Caine, sensitive..!" You whined, grabbing his arm, but he didn't stop.

"That's the point im afraid! Perhaps if you started sooner you wouldn't as sensitive but! Now that I think about it I prefer it this way!" He laughed , the sound reverberating throughout the room. 

Your hand seemed to move on its own, trailing towards your cunt that was already leaking. You stuck your hands in your pants and began to rub gentle circles onto your clit, it was so sensitive that your own legs closed around your hand. "Please..hha.." 

Your noises were like music to his ears, causing him to 'accidentally' pull at one of your nipples rather hard, causing you to yelp and jolt in his arms. 

"Whoops! Sorry my dear, seems my hands have a mind of their own today!" 

He could see your hand disappearing into your pants, sensing how gentle you were being with yourself seemed to make him just a little.. agitated. "Now now, you'll have to do better than that!" One of his hands pulled itself from your shirt and instead yanked your hand from your pants. Replacing it with his own. 

You were too deep in this cloud of lust, and body subsequently too weak to fight back against his advances.. not like you really wanted to anymore.— 

"Ah, here we are!" He stuck two fingers inside of your wet cunt, and they slipped in with ease. He didn't take his time and immediately pumped them in and out at a rapid pace. Behind that jolly visage was an incredibly impatient man it seems. 

"C.. Caine, Caine..! Hhaa! Please!" You whined and babbled out as he mercilessly fingered your hungry cunt. 

"That's my name, don't wear it out my dear! Now how about a third?" He added another finger, stretching your cunt out deliciously on his fingers. Yet you still took it with ease, and after a few more pumps your body got tense, knees buckling as you cried out in pleasure. 

"You made quite the mess I'm afraid!" He commented and slowly removed his fingers from your cunt, running his big tongue along his dirtied fingers.

"Caine.. finished now..?" You said, leaning against him for support. And he held you firm enough that you wouldn't fall.

"Of course not dear! The tallyboard isn't here for nothing , we're just getting started after all!" He says with pure excitement and just like he said..

there was one mark on the tally board.

[trulyumai]

Oh, Mr. Mosses (Series!) IV

Synopsis: You were fine with the job, the steps were easy enough but the secret  of the D.D.D was getting harder and harder to contain. Each night a new entity would enter the building, each with its own horrific look and intentions. Just as you debate on leaving, a new resident has entered the premises; Francis Mosses who is absolutely entranced by your being. Now, his Mimic has taken a liking to you too.

Will you be as smitten of them as they are of you? Only time will tell.

Author Note: Thank you everyone for enjoying the story, its honestly so fun to write I wish i could update even quicker! If it wasn't for uni i most likely would be. Hope you enjoy the new chapter!

Warnings: Blood, Obsessive behavior, Stalking, Talk about Death

Also available on AO3!

Taglist: @tfamidoingwithmylife @mariaflor873 @fandomfeind @greycloudsy @skully-skeleton-bone0106 @im-here-for-the-fun-of-it @the-tiger-lover78 (Let me know if you want to be added!)

Oh, Mr. Mosses IV

She felt awful, guilt struck through her bones like a heavy fog. The rain hadn’t stopped since the night before, the weather matched her dreary mood and she couldn't help but wither away in bed for most of the day, staring blankly at the popcorn-like ceiling. It would be her fault if someone were to die. She let him in, purposefully let the man walk in without a second thought or action. Frustrated, she grabbed the pillow beside her, throwing it across the room with a defeated huff. 

Her shift started tomorrow night, 5:00 on the dot. Grabbing the sides of her head she glanced toward the window, gray skies filled her vision before she threw herself back onto the duvet.

She saw him when she closed her eyes. That egotistical grin, those sharp teeth- the hands, how they planted themselves around her face like they belonged there. 

That day she uttered nothing to management, passed her employee with only a glance and hadn't been down since the incident. Had she even eaten? She couldn't remember, only lingering tastes of the metallic blood entered her taste buds, as if that monster's finger was still being forced down her throat. 

Holding back a gag she reached toward her nightstand, pulling out a pink and white pill case. Squinting at it she found two clear sleeping pills. 

“This should do the trick,” she mumbled, carelessly popping them in her mouth before hastily reaching for a bottle of water by her bedside. There was no way she could sleep on her own, at least not for tonight 

  ───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

Pillows were kicked and strewn about the floor, blankets were haphazardly beside her and hanging limply on the mattress. She didn't seem to notice the mess, with her arms by her sides and hair splayed out on the pillow, she snored lightly, blocking out the rain that beated across her window, blocking out the man who stood just above her side of the bed. Wide, black eyes stared down at her. Unblinking they shuffled closer, stepping over a pair of pink slippers thrown haphazardly on the floor. His grin took over most of his face, sharp teeth on display with red stains on his lips. He'd been busy since his arrival, picking apart her neighbor while she slept so soundly. So heavenly. He groaned, letting his blood covered fingers linger on her neck, before descending up towards her face. Pressing his fingers harder until little red dots were smudged across her cheeks. Mr. Capriannis’s blood. 

Cackling quietly to himself he bent down, just so his nose grazed hers. Lightly his warm breath dusted across her face, and even in her sleep she moved away from the man, groaning lightly as she turned her head to face the window. 

“I'll see you tonight, pretty girl,” if he wasn't so hungry, he would have decided to stay, maybe try to get in a few more touches. A few bites. But his urge to kill was getting overwhelming, he had to grind his teeth to stay focused. Light drops of blood began to seep from his mouth, his teeth had seemed to jabbed his lips from the harsh movements and it dribbled down, falling onto the unconscious girl below. The liquid plopped down on her neck, where it smeared and marked the area with its contrasting color. Deciding to leave it there he laughed once more. 

Maybe he’ll pay another neighbor a visit. 

  ───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

Francis slept terribly. This weather was downright awful, made his life a complete hell and who orders milk on days like this? Mumbling to himself he looked for his hat, it wasn't on its usual hook by the door, which he thought was quite strange. 

Sure, he came home later than usual, his bike route hindered by the many puddles in his path, but he always managed to stay tidy, stay neat. He looked everywhere! The hook, the closet, his bed, the little bathroom and even his poor excuse of a kitchen. It was completely gone and out of sight. Starting to panic he brushed his hair back with one hand, letting it linger while he tried to backtrack. Getting in the prior night he noticed the receptionist was off  of work already, he sighed at the other co worker before delving into the elevator. He knew he had his hat with him, and remembered bunching it up in worry over the little pretty receptionist. 

Frustrated enough, he grabbed his dress shoes. He supposed he would have to look once more after his route. 

  ───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

“There you are 29! Right on time, listen, the boss wants a double shift on schedule, I know it's a little sudden but who are we to say no, right?” The other coworker smiled, it was big, a fake facade made to comfort the already exhausted girl. 

She stood there, arms bunched at her sides as she picked at the sweater littering around her hands. 

“Yeah, I got the message about that this morning.” 

Walking past she slid her ID down the door, checking in for another shift. Waving at the fleeting man she closed the door, rubbing her hands after. It was obvious she was nervous, the backroom didn't feel safe anymore with that thing wandering around. Just before she clocked in she had scanned the building, looking, waiting to see if she saw anything out of the ordinary. 

She didn't. 

Saw nothing, heard nothing. The only thing she noticed was this god awful smell coming from the second floor. Mr. Capriannis must be attempting to make fish again. 

She decided to make a coffee and settle her nerves. Walking quickly she grabbed her favorite mug; a green ceramic cup with frogs all over the handle. 

It was then she noticed she didn't feel quite alone. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up, she felt heavy and sweaty, and she could have sworn she kept seeing shadows move from the corner of her eyes. Tapping her fingers against her now filled mug she walked carefully to the desk, where the newly laid schedule stared back at her. 

Only Two people left to check in tonight 

She missed Francis.

  ───────── ౨ৎ ───────── 

Reading through the forms she was sure to check it over at least three times each. Writing down the numbers just in case to ensure everyone's safety. 

Robertsky Peachman 114652289730 Checked in 7:23

-

Dr. W. Afton 250489656214 Checked in 7:45

-

Calling both lines, they were indeed not at the residency, so without pause she handled them separately, allowing them one at a time to step into the premise. 

Before Mr. Peachman left however, he eyed the woman as he bundled up his forms. 

“Oh my, what happened!” He exclaimed, pointing to the column of his throat.

“Your neck, dear, it's bleeding!” Reaching up she touched the base of her throat, her hands met a dry, patchy blotch along her skin. Removing her fingers, she realized he was right; dried blood laid on the tip of her index. 

Throat dry she attempted to lick her lips, thinking about what she did this morning to protrude such an injury.

“Here, here, use my napkin, it looks to be dried over,” With a helping hand he laid his handkerchief through the slot, giving the woman a smile. 

“I- thank you, Mr. Peachman. I don't even remember getting this,” Scratching it against the soft fiber it came off, however something looked… different. 

The blood was thick, almost a reddish black against the cotton. 

“You can keep it, just in case it reopens, I'll see you tomorrow evening little lady!”

With a toothy smile he was off, already pushing the third button on the elevator. 

Yawning, the receptionist began to organize the files around her; everything laid strewn about with her double and triple checking everyone’s forms. 

Knock. 

Knock. 

Knock. 

Halting her movements she tore her eyes away from the cabinet, to the window across. 

It was the employee, the one who had the shift right before her. His eyes were wide, full of anger and his movements were quick. He banged his fist beside the glass, letting out ragged, desperate breaths. 

“What the fuck, 29?!” 

Standing up she shuffled back, grazing her shoulders on the cabinets behind her. 

“I know what you did, you dumb bitch! I saw the footage!”

“28, Please I- I didn't know! I was just trying to-”

He banged his fist once more, “Im calling the D.D.D, They’ll dispose of both of your fucking asses!” Gripping the ID dangling from his neck he ripped it off, walking towards the door that separated them both. 

With quick and desperate movements she ran to the door, pushing the chain lock just across the wood  to halt the man. 

It slammed against the metal, she could see part of him through the slit left open. 

“Let me in! Don't mess this up 29, people will die!”“So I should just let you expose me? So can I be another body thrown in a bag?!” Beating harshly on the door she could see the chain was weakening. One more strong shove and he'd be through. And then what? She’d not only be out of a job, but a place to stay, and who knows if they would let her live after the mistake she made?

That's when she heard it, the slow, dramatic clapping of someone's hands. 

Craning her neck back as best as she could while still maintaining a grip on the door, she gasped audibly. 

There he was; the cause of all her problems. The milkman in disguise. 

“This has been quite entertaining sweetheart, but how much longer are you gonna keep this man around, huh?” Tilting his head to the side he let out a breath of air. 

“I could take care of him, you know. Save you the trouble,” Squinting his eyes he picked at his teeth, the sharp nails dug out chunks of flesh he flicked to the side. 

“No!” She seethed. 

“No one has to die.” Pushing her back against the door once more, she used as much strength she could possibly gather. 

“Aw,” He teased, shaking his head side to side, dragging his dried bloody finger on the wall. 

“You actually believe that, don't you sweet thing?”

Sweat began to build up on her forehead, running down in clear, sticky beads. 

She was going to die. If not by the thing in front of her, then the man busting through the door she was trying so hard to guard. 

Would it be so bad if she had his help? 

What on earth was she saying?! Of course it would be! 

The mimic stepped closer, just until his feet were planted in front of hers, looking straight down at her worried filled orbs. 

“Let me kill for you,” he begged.

Bending his knees he put his hands together, in a praying-like stance. 

“Please, let me help you.”

His eyes were warm somehow, his pupils seemed to be dilated, staring right up at the desperate woman. 

Feeling not only weak from holding the door, but to have this… creature beg to help her, she softened her hold. 

“Okay,” She whispered, staring right back at him as he slowly leaned his arm forward to grab her jaw.

He looked ecstatic, truly happy with her answer and- mesmerized? 

“Don't you worry bout a thing pretty girl,  I'll handle big bad 28 for you,”

Leaning closer once more, he let his face get merely inches from hers. The smell of iron hit her, it wafted across her face contaminating each breath she let in. 

“But you'll owe me one, got it?”

Dumbly nodding her head she relaxed her eyes, she was feeling awfully tired from everything. A wave of exhaustion hit her bones, numbing her mind as her vision began to blur. 

Before the darkness spread over her eyelids she thought of one thing.

A tired raven haired man with his little smile.

[coff-in]

We can have Toxic!Siblings Graves x Y/N (Andrew and Reader Romantic) (Ashley and Reader platonic)

Y/N would have been the babysitter when they were just kids, it wasn't by choice obviously, as Y/N's parents were working all day and couldn't leave a child alone all day, while Mrs. Graves simply couldn't. He wanted to take care of his own children.

So they decided to make Y/N a full-time babysitter for the Graves family, she gets food and isn't left alone while the Graves Siblings are taken care of, everyone wins :D (Sarcasm)

Their relationship was a little tense at first, Leyley was a pest to Y/N, calling her several names and accusing her of stealing her brother, which resulted in the two fighting all the time.

Even so, she didn't understand why Leyley still insisted on staying close to her, she didn't know that for Leyley, Y/N was the closest thing to a mother she had.

While for Andy, he found it strange to obey someone who is only 1 year older than him, but he liked the idea of someone looking out for him.

Until the infamous box day arrived.

Andrew felt so overwhelmed by that day, that he started to become more clingy/protective towards Y/N, as she was the only one who was understanding of his feelings, who became his safe haven and he was afraid of losing that. .

It got to the point where he and his sister created false rumors about dating/friends so that Y/N wouldn't abandon them.

The two siblings didn't know that Y/N knew that they killed Nina, she just didn't tell them because Mrs. Graves (out of a minimal maternal feeling) threatened her by saying that she was also an accomplice, since she should be taking care of them.

Because of this, as time passed, Y/N began to behave colder/aggressive/distant towards most people, especially her parents. Since they were responsible for her being practically abandoned and for practically selling her childhood to be a "mother" of two brats that no one wanted to take care of.

Until we reach Chapter 2, after sacrificing Mr and Mrs. Graves, Y/N received an amulet from the Demon that is capable of entering the dreams and memories of others while she sleeps. Then she accidentally manages to see the memories of Andrew and Ashley that they made with her behind her back.

note from coff-in: GOD THIS IS SO YUMMY!!! i love how long and detailed the ask is as it gives me something to build off of (which is always welcomed, i’m not always the creative i want to be). thank you so much for requesting! i think my characterization of andrew and ashley was a little wonky. i tried watching playthroughs of the game to see how they talk and think but i literally get too flustered to look at them whenever they're on screen, hahaha!! more Ashley focused than what you migh've hoped for but i tried my best to keep her interactions and thinking platonic and andrew's romantic. this was a wonderful idea and i have to thank you again so, so, so much for requesting. please enjoy!!!

[fem] reader-insert, reader is older than andrew by 1 year

Like a worm to an apple, they've carved their way into your life.

[reader] fucking hates the Graves siblings, hahaha!

Okay, maybe she doesn’t hate them, but [reader] definitely has a strained relationship with Andrew and Ashley. I don’t think that the quarantine helped them out much either. [reader]’s parents not only abandoned her and left her to become a parent of kids not that younger than her, but they actually sold her off. They probably heard of the quarantine from Mrs. Graves and decided that it sounded fun, I guess.

Ashley mellowed out her hatred towards [reader] as they grew up together. I don’t think we’ve ever seen Ashley interact with someone she sees as a friend (besides Andrew). I think she’d be very possessive over them. [reader] is her friend! She should be focusing on her and Andrew and no one else!

She and [reader] probably share clothes in the quarantine since [reader]’s clothes would all be at her home (wherever that would be…)

Andrew’s fucking living the dream. The rumors he and Ashley spread of them and [reader] worked to keep [reader] close but I don’t think that [reader] actually dated Andrew. I mean, if the boy you babysat during your childhood killed a little girl and got away with it, would you date him?

The quarantine has given him and [reader] that forced proximity that he hopes would work to get her into his arms. (And maybe under the sheets, too…? Hehehehe!)

He would go to [reader] during the night to sleep in the same bed during his nightmares. I think he would also go to Ashley for comfort from his nightmares, too, since she was actually there when Nina died (I’m pretty sure that’s what the nightmares were about) but this is just a personal thought/headcanon of mine.

Overall, they’re both clingy, possessive and kinda obsessive over [reader] and she hates it. Their relationship changed once they killed and cannibalized their cultist neighbor. With Nina, [reader] didn’t really have a choice… she wasn’t there in the room when they killed her in that box and Mrs. Graves didn’t allow her to tell the authorities to rightfully send these fuckers to jail!

“You’re an accomplice” my ass, [reader] thinks to herself.

But now? Sharing a meal with the two people she despises the most next to her parents, made with the blood and flesh of another human? Yeah, she can’t possibly say that she’s an innocent party now.

Once the gang pulls up at the hotel [reader] is ready to leave the Graves’s asses. This is her chance at freedom now! She doesn’t need to babysit them anymore, they’re fucking adults now!

Her chances are dashed once the hitman comes over to try and kill them. I never mentioned the demon and the vision trinket but I’m sure [reader] tries to block it out from her mind as much as possible. Kinda hard to do it now that she knows that yes, the trinket does work, and yes, there are actual fucking demons that exist in their world.

At the Graves parent’s house, [reader] probably wouldn’t do too much there. Obviously she can’t talk Ashley out of sacrificing them and Andrew is more-or-less aboard with the idea. [reader] just kinda stands out of the way when it comes to the bondage and actual killing/sacrificing part. I think [reader] would sleep with Ashley in the basement much to Andrew’s chagrin.

“[reader]? Are you okay?” Ashley looked at [reader]’s side profile as they lay on the floor next to each other. “You haven’t said much since we got here.”

[reader] stayed quiet. In all honesty, she was probably disassociating at that moment. Looking back at her memories in hopes of finding a piece of happiness lost somewhere so she can grab it. This whole fucking ‘adventure’ has been a total shitshow… 

“If it’ll make you feel better, we could kill your parents afterward.” Ashley offered carefully.

“Why the fuck would we do that…?” [reader] didn’t look at Ashley and continued to stare at the ceiling. She tried to focus on the cool concrete of the ground, the darkness that covered the walls, and their victims sleeping just upstairs.

“They weren’t any better than our parents, were they? I heard our parents talking when you were younger… you’re another child that wasn’t wanted. Just like me and Andy!” She smiled at [reader] as she got up to sneak towards the staircase. “It’s something that’ll bring us together! We’ll be orphans and friends! Unwanted children to the very end!”

When they finally sacrifice the Graves parents, everyone is shocked that the demon decides to give [reader] a trinket of her own. It’s a simple trinket in the shape of an eye with three stars dangling from it. It looks very similar to Ashley’s trinket.

That night (or day, I guess?) [reader] wanders about the demon/dreamscape and finds the memory of Andrew and Ashley spreading rumors. (You mentioned that it was on accident, so maybe she was trying to avoid looking at Ashley’s respective vision for the route you wanna go down). I mean, it’s not too hard. Who knows where any of those doors that litter the place will lead?

“Did you know that [reader] my friend?” Ashley would tell other students during lunch at school. “She’s my best friend even, so I don’t need you guys to sit with me or anything!” The other classmates give her demeaning leers and skeptical stares as Ashley turns away to find you in the cafeteria.

“What a fucking weirdo… there’s no way [reader] would be friends with her.”

“She’s probably lying about it.”

“I could see her and [reader] being friends… doesn’t she babysit her and Andrew?”

“Isn’t [reader] dating Andrew? Someone said that Andrew and [reader] were dating…”

What the fuck? What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck?

Anger starts to boil up in [reader]’s veins as they replay that interaction in their mind. They’ve been pulling the fucking strings from the start. They’d been slowing sinking their teeth around her neck until she was trapped in their jaws, unable to escape the hell of their design.

What. The. Fuck!

----

coff-in

[logosbot-tm-fics]

Grumbo people come get some food✨️

One shot that takes place around the time of Mumbo's return to Hermitcraft s9, hope yall enjoy!

Feel free to read here or on Ao3

Thought About You Way Too Much

To say that Grian had missed Mumbo would be an understatement.

In his absence, Grian had found himself struggling to sleep, staying up far past midnight most nights planning or building. As if it would let him avoid the morning when he'd have to face the fact that Mumbo still wasn't there. Each day he’d wake up and stare at the empty base across from him, feeling a stab of pain at the emptiness.

It got so bad that he spent most of his time down by Grumbot, talking to their son from a different universe and longing for the life that other version of them spent together. He felt himself needing Mumbo more and more as time passed, a heavy weight pressing down on him until something eventually cracked. Before he knew it, Grian was creating a summoning circle in hopes that it would bring back the mustached man.

All it did was make him feel hollow, spending another sleepless night sitting between flickering candles and sobbing into his knees.

It wasn't that he didn't understand why Mumbo had taken a break. Mumbo had been on Hermitcraft for years, constantly creating and working hard – it would've honestly been weirder if he never felt the need to take a break. So Grian was happy for him, truly he was, he knew how overwhelming Hermitcraft could become, how burnt out you ended up at times. He was glad that Mumbo had realized that he needed a break, and from the updates he did get, it seemed as if Mumbo was having fun.

He just wished that Mumbo would have brought him along.

Each second without him was painful, and the server just didn't feel the same. He needed his best friend, needed their silly pranks, needed to annoy him. He needed Mumbo.

It should've been startling for Grian to realize that he wasn't just missing Mumbo, that he was longing for him. Somewhere, deep down, Grian knew that he'd always loved him.

So, when Mumbo had discovered the surprise Grian had set up for him, Grian didn’t waste a single second immediately pulling the lever for the XP, and tackled the taller man into a hug, screaming, “YOU’RE BAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!” as loud as he could.

He felt ecstatic.

Never before had Grian felt as happy as he did, when Mumbo wrapped his arms around him, and whispered, “God, I've missed you.”

Grian could've died right then and there, and that would've been fine. He didn't want to be anywhere else than in Mumbo's arms.

~

The week after, Grian and Mumbo found themselves sitting together under the starry sky. They'd been mucking around, pointing out constellations to each other and making up a few when they couldn't remember more.

At some point, as the coldness of the night truly began to set in, they had inched closer to each other until their shoulders brushed together. It was just for the warmth, they claimed. It was only so that they could hang out for a little longer.

They both knew that it was a lie. They just couldn't stand being apart again.

Then, Grian opened his mouth to speak. "Mumbo, I…" he trailed off, biting his thumb. The moonlight cast long shadows on the ground, making everything feel like a weird dream.

"Yeah?" Mumbo answered. They were so incredibly close, and he could only focus on Grian's leg pressing against his.

Grian looked away, his hair falling over his face. He was grateful for the cover, allowing the layer of curls to hide his blushing cheeks.

"Okay, I just- I think- you really… we should–” He cut himself off with a thick breath, either anxious or frustrated. Maybe it was both. His leg was bouncing, his fingers were threading together. “Why the hell is this so difficult to say, fuck-"

Mumbo simply tilted his head, knocking their shoulders together a little more intentionally this time. A silent show of support.

He smiled, closing his eyes for a second to gather his thoughts. "So, you know how I didn't have the best time when you were gone?" He asked.

Mumbo nodded in reply. "Yeah, I know."

"Well, when you were gone I kinda- realised a few things.” He ran his hand through his hair nervously.

"Like what?"

"Like…how I don't know how to function without you close by, it's almost like I completely stop working." He explained. "Or, how I hate being away from you for a long periods of time, it feels like my heart is getting ripped to pieces." He winced, as if he was feeling that pain in the moment.

Mumbo wanted to wrap his arms around him, to hold him together, to undo the pain. He wanted so badly to protect Grian, even if he wouldn't be particularly good at that. Grian was the better fighter of the two of them, but still…he wanted-

"I also realised how I feel about you," Grian’s words tugged Mumbo from his thoughts with a jolt.

He stared at Grian like he had grown a second head, or like he was hearing the beginnings of a conversation that he had fantasised about so many times in the past few months.

Mumbo had realized a lot of things whilst being away from Grian. Such as, he was so used to having him right there, that it was difficult to understand that he had no one to talk to. That he didn't have Grian to talk to. That he had missed Grian so strongly that it felt as if a piece of his soul had disappeared. (Technically he didn't have a soul, he had half of Grian's, but that was another discussion.)

He’d realised that friends didn’t normally crave each other so deeply and completely. He’d realised that friends didn’t normally want to spend every moment together, for the rest of their lives.

But, putting those words to it? Putting a name to that feeling?

Saying the reason why he missed Grian so badly?

That was something that he hadn’t been able to do for a long time. Not until he saw the surprise party that Grian had set up for his return, so elated by his presence, and even then- he had never been able to say it out loud.

He’d never been able to that word, the one that Grian surely couldn’t mean, even if Mumbo wanted him to so badly–

"I think I've fallen for you, Mumbo."

Oh. Oh… OH! No, this had to be a joke, Grian couldn’t be serious. He-

Mumbo looked over at him with wide eyes. He couldn’t see much of the other man’s face, but the tips of his ears were flushed as he bashfully avoided eye contact. His shoulders were tense, his posture nervous, and their thighs were pressed together so tightly. It was so warm, and Mumbo never wanted to be without that. The way that Grian touched him, it was as if…

...he actually felt the same?

Mumbo had practically short-circuited at the realisation, staring at Grian like a bumbling fool, gaping like a complete and utter idiot. He was in disbelief, wanting to say something. Anything! But…he didn't, his brain couldn’t comprehend what Grian had said, at all.

"Mumbo?" Grian said cautiously. Mumbo hadn't even realized that he was looking at him, directly at him.

He looked regretful, hurt and embarrassed. Like he wanted to take it back immediately.

Like he was being rejected.

Of course he did. He thought Mumbo was rejecting him. He didn’t want that, he didn’t mean that! Why couldn't Mumbo just speak? He needed to, he was ruining everything!

"I- we can forget about this. I understand if you don't feel the same, it's completely fine. I'll get over it eventually-" Grian rambled, fidgeting with some of the feathers in his wings, curling in on himself.

He pulled back, their bodies parting and cold seeping between them.

The shiver that went down his spine was all that Mumbo needed to kick back into gear.

"Grian, w-wait," Mumbo shuffled awkwardly until they were touching again, gently prying Grian's hands off his wings. "Wait, please. Just- you're being completely serious?"

Grian nodded. Nothing more, he just nodded, looking rather embarrassed.

"Like, one hundred percent? There's no prank going on, there's no joke at all, you're being serious?" Mumbo asked, needing confirmation.

Grian nodded yet again, his eyebrows furrowing confusedly. "Yes, of course why would I- Mumbo?!"

He was cut off by Mumbo hugging him tightly, holding him as close as he possibly could. Grian didn't know what to do, his hands hovering over Mumbo’s back. For once, he wasn’t sure how to react. "Are- are you okay?" Grian asked.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine…I just-" Mumbo’s voice was shaking. He pulled back to look at Grian, his eyes shiny from tears. "I never thought I'd hear you say that."

"You-" Grian was in disbelief. "You like me back?"

Mumbo smiled. "Yeah."

And with that Grian began to cry.

"Grian!?" Mumbo said, looking surprised. "Don't cry, because if you cry, then I’ll cry!"

Grian laughed at Mumbo's shock, he just felt so relieved. The mixed-signals from before had frightened him badly. "I'm sorry- I just-" His voice broke into a sob and he laughed silently. "You just scared me."

Mumbo was crying as well. "I'm sorry. My brain stopped working completely, I honestly thought you were pulling my leg."

Grian laughed in reply.

"Anyway, why are we crying? Isn't this meant to be happy, what are we doing?" Mumbo said, laughing as well. Tears rolled down his cheeks, and Grian gently wiped them away.

"I am happy, that's why I'm crying." Grian replied.

"Really?"

"Yeah, I've never been happier." Grian's voice was filled with fondness, as he leaned forward to kiss Mumbo, and Mumbo let him.

Mumbo melted into the kiss. Sure, it was wet and unpracticed and not the best kiss by a long shot, but…

It was Grian.

And that was all that mattered.

~

If the hermits had to be honest, they had thought Mumbo and Grian would figure everything out sooner. Some of them had betted on when they'd finally confess, gambling away precious diamonds as the pair in question danced around the subject. It was only Joe that somehow was right.

They had started the bet back in season six, with Iskall establishing the pool as soon as Grian decided to dress up as Ariana Griande and began writing a song for Mumbo.

Iskall had thought they'd confess during season six, and so had Stress, Cub and Cleo.

Some had betted on season seven, one of those being Scar, who was being extremely smug when Grian had signed up Mumbo as a potential mayoral candidate.

A handful had betted on season eight, one of those being Pearl who joined the bet as soon as she heard about it.

But somehow, Joe had been the only one who had been right. Somehow Joe had predicted that they'd confess whilst sitting on the bridge that went between their bases, and that they'd confess in the middle of the night. This he said after saying that they'd confess in season nine.

How he knew that their bases would be connected in season nine was something every hermit had questioned.

Not that anyone would ever know.

And when Grian and Mumbo finally announced their relationship, most hermits muttered as they had to pay diamonds to Joe.

Grian and Mumbo had just looked on in disbelief. Shaking their heads, as they wondered just how they had ended up with the hermits as their friends.

Even so neither could lie, they were thankful for Hermitcraft.

[klbwriting]

Adventures In Atlantean-Sitting

Chapter 1

Fandom: Aquaman

Pairing: Ormxfemale!Reader

Warnings: violence

Summary: Atlanteans have attacked a coastal surface city, framing Orm for the attack. In a bid to keep Orm secret and the council off his back Arthur gets the help of YN, a metahuman with tracking abilities, to track Orm and let him stay with her while they figure out the real attacker. Orm is not too pleased about having a babysitter.

Notes: here is the second fic! I hope you enjoy! This will be posted in the evenings (for me at least), comments/critiques are appreciated

Traveling the US had become almost fun to Orm after the last year. He had explored national park, lakes, even got all the way to Alaska to see the northern lights. Anything that the country had to offer in nature he had done. Now he was ready to try maybe giving the less natural world a shot. That's what first led him to Coast City, shining on the California coast and one of the nicer cities in the country if the magazine Orm had read was correct. Being here he believed it. It was big, but not overwhelming, there was good food, the people were decent, and he even found a cheap place to sleep while he visited, something he didn't always have. For the first few days it was wonderful.

Then the attack happened.

Orm hadn't been exactly where it happened but he had seen the emergency vehicles, saw a green metahuman flying that way. So Orm went the opposite way. He had to keep his head down and out of trouble or else get sent back to Atlantis and that sandy prison he spent four years in. No thank you. Instead, he went back to his room, sat down and watched the news on the television. He had held no great love of the surface but seeing the destruction that was happening did not sit well with him now. Then he saw the attackers clearly. He was sure no one without enhanced eye sight would be seeing this clearly, thank Poseidon, but there were at least three Atlantean highborns with energy rays shooting randomly at buildings, creating as much smoke as they could. It was a confusing strategy. Why just make a mess? Was this some kind of warning? He knew Arthur wasn't the brightest man in the world...or even in a kindergarten class...but he had better sense than to do this. This was rogues, someone sending a message. Orm just couldn't fathom what it could be. He got up, going to the adjoined bathroom to get a drink and noticing the cup he had this morning was gone. Strange, they must replace them daily. How wasteful. He shrugged some and went back to the main room, turning off the TV and deciding on a nap instead.

"You found what at the attack site?" Arthur asked the council, looking at the documentation of evidence. Green Lantern had reported an Atlantean weapon found in some rubble, but the DNA that was on it couldn't be possible.

"The tyrant king Orm Marius's DNA was used to activate the weapon," councilwoman Yavon spoke. She looked pained at the statement. "It appears that he not only escaped his prison, but he also survived the attack against you with the Black Trident." Arthur sighed. This made no sense. Orm was in Coast City, Arthur knew that, but he had spent a year just walking around the country, being completely nonthreatening. He even seemed happy sometimes. What had changed? Arthur frowned more.

"How is his DNA even able to activate these weapons still?" he asked. The council shifted nervously, like they had hoped he wouldn't be smart enough to ask. People underestimating his intelligence would never not be annoying.

"It seems that some of the weapons' caches in that part of the ocean had not been updated to remove his ability to use them," council Horath spoke, sounding bored. Arthur glared at him.

"Are we keeping you from something councilman?" the king asked, wrapping his fingers around Atlan's trident. The councilman sat up a little straighter.

"No, your majesty, I am just glad that finally the escapee slipped up. I have been warning this council that the former king has been living, traveling the North American continent for a year now and everyone ignored my warnings. Well here you are, plan as day, seeing that he is in fact alive and now has found weapons to attack the surface with," he said. Arthur sighed. He couldn't hold off Horvath any longer. This was too much to argue with.

"Yes councilman, I see that we have gravely mistaken your warnings, what we thought was paranoia was insight into a criminal who was cunning enough to hide in plain sight. We will not make that mistake again," Arthur said. Horvath seemed satisfied, a haughty grin on his face. Another councilman, Orlan, stood up.

"Let me send my son after the king, he is a general with the battalion in that part of the ocean, Orvex will be able to find him and bring him to justice," he said. Of all the council member Orlan was the worst. He was constantly trying to undermine Arthur or wrestle just a little more power away from someone else. It was aggravating and unnerving and Arthur knew he had to be careful with the handling of this situation..

"Let us not jump to such things just yet. Sending a general to the surface with a small army may concern the people there. They might take it as an act of war and we don't need them trying to find Atlantis and drop a nuke on us Independence Day style," Arthur said, drawing blank looks from the others. God he missed his wife, Mera at least was starting to understand his references. "I know a metahuman on the surface. She has incredible power, she will be able to track down Orm and even subdue him, all without get the military involved. She lives around where the attack occurred and I'm sure she knows the area enough to know where he might be hiding. I just need the DNA evidence to take to her. She will use that to find and captured my brother." He could see Orlan seething at his son's big moment being taken away but Arthur needed to make sure that Orm didn't do this. If he did Arthur would cart his tantrum having ass back himself, but if he didn't he needed to warn his brother that someone knew he was alive. And was trying to use him to start a war with the surface.

[rynris]

Dungeon Meshi: Thoughts and Impressions

I've been thinking about how quickly I consume media these days and I feel like I've been desperately binging shows in order to keep up with the times. I hope this will be a series where I can thoughtfully absorb everything from a show that made a lasting impression on me and have something to come back to and review. This is more for my own fun and journal keeping - all thoughts are my own musings and can change over time. If there's something you'd like to add, please do! I'd love to hear your impressions as well.

*Minor spoilers below*

Overall Impression

What a well thought out and interwoven story with fairly interesting characters and a great hook/ mystery! I think rescuing Falin as a plot device works really well because the heart of the story is about relationships and everything around it caters to the journey and development of these characters and how they work together.

Cons/ Issues

I still don't really buy the world building, the dungeon idea seems a bit weak, but it's anime, so some plot holes are forgivable. The beginning felt weak, it was hard to buy into the stakes of losing Falin without knowing the characters but thankfully the exposition was rather quick (1/4 of an episode it felt like) which is good. The dragon fight scene seemed a bit off. I felt like the shots were framed too close - probably to emphasize chaos and keep the red dragon mysterious until the final reveal but with my tunnel vision, it felt messy.

Ok one big con is the character tropes. They sort of make up for it in the middle, but it was enough to make me want to stop watching. I've seen these tropes a million times now and am TIRED of it. And there's so much good stuff out there that it's so easy to dismiss shows these days.

Pros/ Love

CHARACTERS! I was surprised to see more depth in the characters and I love how the mysterious were presented depending on the encounters. Thought each scenario were expertly crafted and it didn't feel too forced.

FOOD! Besides the glorious food p*rn, I was definitely taken aback by the later recipes. I didn't expect food to be woven in during some scenarios, but when it was, I was very pleasantly surprised!

At first I thought Laios was kind of unrealistic, but then I remembered that my ornithology prof was passionate about eating every single bird in the world at least once and I was like... this is real. There are DEFINITELY people like this. +1 for the representation!

On representation, I like the potential LGBTQ representation and was surprised the show took that route. The show itself is coded to be super straight so I wasn't expecting it. This is a con, but it does feel a bit like queer baiting or for the male gaze unfortunately.

Later action scenes were good/ interesting.

The pacing between comedy and darkness was well done, Trigger never fails with good comedic timing.

Shots economy is good, I feel like there are not a lot of unmotivated, extra shots, and talking/ dialog/ exposition were all well done. The used the same layout for the exposition scenes from the manga and the added animation punched it up and mode those scenes interesting. - **I'd like to study these scenes in particular more.**

Final thoughts

I think this is a great show to study how you can make a slice of life comedy and weave in some darker themes without overwhelming the audience. A lot of shows usually stay in their chosen genre, or lean very heavily on the dark/ edgy themes. I like how this show isn't reliant on solid world building, but focuses on creative storytelling to keep audiences coming back for more. Overall, the design/ setting feels basic, but it is the creativity behind the idea of monster food and how well thought out every dish is that makes this show shine. The manga and show have pretty good pacing and doesn't linger too long on mysterious or draw things out, dropping enough tidbits and lore to keep you watching/ reading.

TL;DR I think this is one of the better amine series I've seen this year and I love that this show feels refreshing with very creative storytelling. The concept is feels surprisingly unique and original but you do have to commit to a few episodes before it kicks in.

**I only read a few chapters of the manga so my opinion is not 100% and may change if I have time to read more.

[sleekervae]

New York Romantic 1.2

Masterlist

a/n: I'm so so soooo sorry I'm dragging out the date sequence... but I also love a good build up and I hope I did them justice! And I promise that the actual date is next!

pairing: Tom Blyth x ballerina!oc

summary: the seagull

word count: 4,943

taglist: @watercolorskyy @carolanns-world @alana4610

"Tom, how many hours did you sleep last night? Quickly," Tom glanced up at the call of his name, finding Marcelline standing over him with her phone.

"Are you filming me?" he asked plainly.

"Yeah! We're gonna look back on this when we're in fourth year!" she replied ecstatically, "How many hours did you sleep last night? C'mon!"

Tom was taken aback at first, his mind blanking out before he stuttered a quick, "Erm -- six?"

Marcelline's face fell into shocked dismay, dropping her camera lens and turning around, "What the f-- how are all the guys sleeping better than us!?" she shouted to another classmate, Kathy.

"Because men don't fret like women do," she replied.

"Hey! Brian got three hours!" another student pointed out.

While Tom managed about six hours of sleep, it wasn't exactly the kind of rest that left him feeling refreshed and ready to take on the world. Instead, it was a restless, fragmented slumber filled with half-formed dreams about missed cues and forgotten lines. He'd spent most of the night tossing and turning, his mind running a relentless marathon of overthinking. Every detail of the day ahead looped through his brain: rehearsals, costume fittings, the potential pitfalls of his performance.

An hour on the phone with his mom before bed had been both a blessing and a curse. She was her usual buoyant self, overflowing with encouragement and excitement, "You're going to be brilliant! I just know it!" she'd said, her voice brimming with pride. Tom could almost see her smiling on the other end of the line, her enthusiasm a bright beacon in his otherwise cloudy thoughts. She'd wished him all the best for his show and reminded him how much she was looking forward to having him back home in England. One more week and he'd be on a plane again...

As he got ready that morning, he tried to shake off the lingering drowsiness. The mirror reflected a version of himself that looked more frazzled than he'd like to admit. Dark circles underscored his eyes, a testament to his lack of rest, but there was a spark there too—a determination to push through the fatigue and give the performance of his life.

He packed his bag with a meticulousness that bordered on obsessive, double-checking that he had everything he needed for the day. Script, check. Costume, check. Snacks to last the day, check. With each item he ticked off his mental list, he felt a tiny surge of control in the midst of the chaos.

Sunny's performance review was the following Monday, so he had the luxury of staying home that morning. He lounged on the couch, feet up, looking more relaxed than Tom had ever felt in his life. That being said, he wish Tom luck and told him he'd catch him at the show. Just as Tom was about to leave, Sunny stopped him and tossed him a small bottle of cologne, "Trust me, you'll want this for your date,"

Tom caught it, barely. "Thanks, I think?" he read the Jo Malone label with intrigue, "Basil & Neroli..."

"It'll make a better impression than just deodorant," Sunny assured him.

Tom stuffed the cologne in his bag, feeling a bit overwhelmed by Sunny's thoughtfulness, but grateful nevertheless, "Seriously, thanks mate,"

"Go knock 'em dead," Sunny said, waving him off, "And remember, the date's about having fun. Don't overthink it!"

With a final nod, Tom stepped into the hallway and nearly collided with Noelle. She emerged from her door at the exact same moment, wearing a navy mini dress sprinkled with delicate white flowers. A light white cardigan draped over her shoulders, her hair cascading in long, soft waves that framed her face. The white trim on her black backpack coordinated nicely with her converse sneakers, and there were little white berettes clipped at the sides of her hair that added a lovely touch of innocence and charm.

Tom felt his breath catch. This was a far cry from her usual ballet attire which was clean, sleek and perfectly packaged. She looked relaxed, fresh, and irresistibly sweet. Every time Tom thought Noelle couldn't be any cuter, she somehow managed to surpass his expectations.

"Hey," he greeted, his voice betraying his admiration.

"Hi," she replied, a shy smile curving her lips.

He couldn't help but stare, feeling like a giddy schoolboy, "You look... wonderful,"

Her cheeks flushed a delicate pink, "Thanks. You don't look too bad yourself,"

"Thank you,"

They started walking to the stairwell, slower than usual to a fault, "So... are you excited?" she asked.

"For what?" a teasing smile tugged at his lips.

She shrugged shyly, "For tonight,"

"What part of tonight?" he asked, his nerves easing a bit, "There's a lot happening tonight!" he laughed as she rolled her eyes.

Noelle shook her head with a candid smile, "And I'm personally excited for all of it," she said.

"Me too," now, if he could just make it through the next twelve hours with peace and calm...

They hit the lobby and immediately heard the sound of sticking and cutting, they were both curious and dismayed to find Doris putting up 'DO NOT ENTER' tape over the elevator doors. She was mumbling under her breath, only pausing when she turned and found Tom and Noelle watching her.

"Elevator's out of commission," she simply said, "Don't ask,"

With an uncertain glower Noelle looked to Tom, who simply shrugged back as they started for the doors and wished Doris a good day. The older woman was so frustrated and annoyed with her renovations plans, she was none the wiser to the palpable energy between the pair.

The ride to school was nothing remarkable—New Yorkers squeezed together like sardines, the air thick and unmoving. Noelle and Tom managed to snag the last two seats at the back of the bus, a comfortable silence settling between them.

Tom turned to her, curiosity piqued. "So, when did Daniel give you the ticket?" he asked.

Noelle shook her head, her expression softening into a smile, "He didn't."

Tom blinked, confused, "Then how did you get your ticket?"

Her eyes sparkled with mischief and excitement, "Stanis is a magician," she replied, her smile widening.

Tom didn't press for more details; there was still a part of him that found Stanis intimidating. He could very well imagine Stanis being involved in a high society crime syndicate, the type where he knew dirt on everybody and would use it to his advantage. So instead, Tom settled back in his seat, smiling to himself as Noelle locked her pinky around his, the simple gesture filling him with warmth.

And that was how Tom found himself here: sitting on the cold auditorium stage floor, watching his castmates run through their final rehearsals. The memory of her finger wrapped around his was still fresh in his mind, a welcome reassurance that he could push his nerves down. The bustling energy around him, the snippets of dialogue floating through the air, all of it seemed more manageable with the thought of Noelle in the audience, her presence a comforting anchor.

As he tried to focus on his lines, a familiar voice broke through his thoughts.

"Jordan! How many hours did you sleep?" Marcelline's voice carried across the auditorium.

Tom couldn't help but snicker to himself as Jordan forced himself to look up at the camera, a dry, tired glare crossing his face.

"Eight," Jordan answered bluntly, his voice tinged with irritation. Somehow, it still didn't look like enough for Jordan.

Tom's amusement was short-lived as he realized his own exhaustion mirrored Jordan's. The final rehearsal was proving to be as challenging as he'd anticipated, but the thought of Noelle watching him perform kept him going. He straightened up, ready to dive back into his role, determined to give it his all.

In the dressing room, the tension wrapped around Bianca like a suffocating shroud. She meticulously adjusted the layers of her costume, her movements sharp with a lingering resentment she refused to acknowledge. As Iseul delicately applied makeup nearby, she ventured cautiously once more into the fraught silence.

"You've been awfully quiet all day," she noted, carefully applying her eyeliner in the mirror.

Bianca scoffed back, "I've had a lot to do today," she replied simply, "Stanis doesn't have just one star pupil, after all,"

At that, Iseul put her liner down, turning to her friend with a concerned scowl, “Bianca, I know how close you are with Noelle,” she began, her voice gentle but firm, “but do you think there might be a part of you that’s feeling… maybe a little jealous?”

Bianca froze mid-adjustment, her brows knitting together defensively, “Jealous? No way,” she retorted, her tone sharp with denial, “Why the hell should I be jealous of her?”

Iseul sighed softly, sensing Bianca’s resistance. “It’s okay to feel that way, Bianca. It happens between friends, more often than you think. But maybe… maybe you’re projecting your fears onto her?”

Bianca shook her head adamantly, a flicker of uncertainty crossing her features. “I’m not projecting anything,” she insisted, her voice wavering slightly. “I'm not afraid of anything, either. I'm a friggin' ballerina in New York City for Christ sake...” her voice trailed off, the unspoken fears lingering heavy in the air.

Iseul reached out, placing a comforting hand on Bianca’s arm. “Bianca, listen. Noelle’s not you. She feels things more, she had a lot of compassion for people. I'm not saying you don't!" she held up a finger before Bianca could interrupt. "But... even you've admitted you can be intense, and stressed. And we know how stressed you've been since getting this part --"

"What is your point, Iseul?" Bianca finally asked, "We have like -- ten minutes before we have to be on stage!"

"I know!"

"So get to the fucking point!"

"Don't be so mean to Noelle! And lighten up about Tom," she told her.

Bianca scoffed, "And what does Tom have to do with anything?"

"Noelle told me what you said about him. How he's no good for her? For the record I completely disagree, but... Maybe you think that because you're jealous of her? You're jealous of what they have?" she reasoned gently, “Maybe instead of antagonizing her, you could talk to her. Tell her how you're feeling, truly,”

Bianca hesitated, her emotions a tumultuous storm inside her, “I'm not jealous, Iseul. I'm just... I'm so sick of everything coming so easily to Noelle!” she admitted quietly, her eyes avoiding Iseul’s gaze, “She's got a great body, flawless hair, everybody loves her -- even friggin' Stanis! And why not me? Why can't I be that likeable? Why can't the guy that I like just pay attention to me and not to her?"

Iseul’s heart ached for her friend, seeing the vulnerability beneath Bianca’s facade of strength, “Bianca, of course people like you! We're your friends!” she reassured softly, “But to be honest... you can be really bitchy sometimes, and just really unapproachable. And if that's the way you've been feeling then maybe you should talk to Noelle about it? Just be honest with her! She'll definitely understand!”

"Will she? How could Little Miss Perfect possibly understand?" she rolled her eyes.

Iseul cocked a brow, "What perfect? She gets zits and period cramps just like we do. She farts and burns her food just like us. Her parents are deadbeats who probably don't even give her a second thought. And she had to miss this recital because she got really sick, and you got her part! So really -- how perfect is her life?"

"You're not gonna' guilt me, Iseul!" Bianca snapped, "I worked just as hard for Giselle as she did!"

"I'm not trying to guilt you, Bianca!" Iseul snapped back, "I just want you to chill! You and Noelle have been best friends since kindergarten, and you know she has your back! You don't need to be threatened by her!"

Bianca nodded slowly, her thoughts swirling with conflicting emotions, “I guess so,” she murmured finally, a mixture of resentment and determination simmering beneath the surface.

As they finished preparing for the performance, Bianca’s heart was still heavy with unspoken fears and unresolved feelings. Deep down, she knew she needed to confront the truth she had been avoiding: the fear of losing herself in Noelle's shadow, losing her to someone who might not understand her as deeply as Bianca did. Yet, amidst the swirl of emotions, Bianca clung to her denial, unwilling to admit the jealousy that gnawed at her heart.

Just as the tense silence settled between them, a knock on the dressing room door broke the moment. Startled, Iseul turned to see a delivery person holding a bouquet of vibrant red roses, a card nestled among the blooms.

"I've got a bouquet delivery for Iseul Jeong," he announced. Iseul's surprise was palpable as she accepted the flowers.

"Oh my gosh, thank you!" the delivery man took off with a curt nod and Iseul settled back in her chair, both girls adamant and curious as she read the note.

“Dear Iseul, good luck on your performance tonight! Wish I could be there in person, but I already know you're going to kill it! All the best... your secret admirer? I've got a secret admirer!” Iseul exclaimed softly, her cheeks tinged pink with pleasure.

Bianca’s gaze flickered to the roses, her irritation simmering beneath the surface as she averted her eyes. The timing of the gesture felt like a cruel twist of the knife, a reminder of her own tangled emotions. She busied herself with her makeup, her thoughts a turbulent storm of envy and uncertainty.

As Iseul admired the flowers, a faint smile playing on her lips, Bianca wrestled with her inner turmoil. She knew she needed to confront Noelle, to voice her fears and concerns. Yet, as she watched Iseul’s delighted reaction, a part of her couldn’t help but resent the happiness that seemed just out of her reach.

The auditorium hummed with the low murmur of excited conversations, the anticipation of the upcoming ballet recital palpable in the air. Noelle and her family settled into their seats, Franca fussing with Chiara's hair and trying to fix her slightly smudged makeup. And ever in her teenage angst, Chiara batted her away like a bratty cat. Noelle, however, was only half paying attention. Her eyes kept darting to the illuminated face of her watch, or she would double check that she had her ticket in her purse.

In another part of the campus, Tom was in the final stages of preparing for his performance. The backstage area was a flurry of activity as actors milled about, doing vocal exercises and stretches. Tom adjusted his costume, the stiff collar and unfamiliar fabric feeling both thrilling and constricting.

He glanced at the mirror, taking in the reflection of himself as Boris Trigorin. Excitement bubbled in his chest, mingling with a gnawing apprehension. He could hear snippets of lines and bursts of laughter from his castmates, their warmups filling the air with a kind of chaotic energy. Tom’s fingers tapped nervously against his script, the worn pages a comforting anchor amidst the chaos.

Back in the auditorium, Franca leaned over, her voice coming in a whisper "Are you feeling alright? Do you want to stand up before the show?” Franca’s voice was a soft but frantic hum in the background as Noelle’s gaze flicked to her watch again.

"I'm fine, Franca. Don't worry," Noelle smiled reassuringly.

The house lights dimmed, signaling the start of the performance. Noelle’s heart pounded, not only from the excitement of seeing her friends dance but also from the anticipation of what lay ahead with Tom. She forced herself to focus on the stage as the first notes of the orchestra swelled, the curtains parting to reveal the dancers.

Tom, meanwhile, took a deep breath, the finality of the upcoming performance settling in. He moved to join his fellow actors, feeling the camaraderie as they wished each other luck. The scent of greasepaint and the soft rustle of costumes created a familiar backdrop to his growing nerves.

As the ballet began, Noelle’s eyes flickered between the graceful movements on stage and the persistent ticking of her watch. Her friends twirled and leaped with ethereal beauty, their dedication evident in every precise step. Noelle felt a pang of pride and longing, wishing she could fully immerse herself in the moment but knowing that her mind was already halfway to Tom’s show.

Despite the tremendous music, Maurice could still hear Chiara's nails tapping away over her phone. She was texting furiously. With aloof dismay, he leaned over, his voice barely a whisper as he scolded her, "Put the phone away, Chiara. Security's gonna think you're filming," Chiara sighed dramatically beside them, clearly unimpressed, but Noelle remained oblivious, her thoughts far away.

As Noelle watched Bianca gracefully glide across the stage, her emotions swirled like a tempestuous sea. Pride welled up within her, a fierce joy that threatened to overflow as she witnessed her friend's flawless execution of each pirouette and arabesque. Yet, beneath the surface, a trace of lingering resentment lingered from their recent argument. Despite the saltiness tainting her admiration, Noelle couldn't deny the admiration she felt for Bianca's talent and dedication, her heart swelling with conflicting emotions as she applauded vigorously at the performance's end.

Sunny sat in the dimly lit theatre, his anticipation palpable as he waited for the play to begin. His fingers twitched with nervous energy, but he was anxious as his phone buzzed discreetly in his pocket. Retrieving it, he read the confirmation text: his flower bouquet had been delivered anonymously. The gesture warmed his heart, and he couldn’t suppress a giddy smile as he imagined Iseul's surprise and -- hopefully -- delight. He hoped she wouldn't think she had a crazy stalker or anything. Adjusting in his seat, Sunny glanced around the theatre, his excitement growing as the lights dimmed and the stage came to life.

Tom’s turn on stage was fast approaching. He joined the others in a circle, their whispered encouragements a soothing balm to his nerves. His mind wandered briefly to Noelle, imagining her in the audience, her presence a steadying force. He straightened his costume one last time, taking another deep breath.

As the ballet performance reached its crescendo, Noelle’s eyes met her watch once more. It was almost time. She leaned over to Franca, whispering her plan to slip out quietly. Franca nodded, giving her a reassuring squeeze.

Noelle rose from her seat, her heart pounding with a mix of emotions. She cast one last look at her friends on stage, then slipped out of the auditorium, her steps quickening with purpose.

Tom stood in the wings, the stage lights casting long shadows. The call for his scene came, and he moved forward, his heart racing with a mix of excitement and apprehension. Somewhere out there, he knew Noelle was making her way to support him, and the thought filled him with a surge of confidence.

As he stepped onto the stage, the world seemed to fall away, leaving only the performance and the promise of seeing Noelle after the final bow.

Noelle slowed her pace to a cautious jog, mindful of her surgeon’s warnings against strenuous activity, including running. She focused on reaching the theater without pushing herself too far into discomfort. The new auditorium for the theater kids was more accessible this time, and she navigated towards it with determination, her purse clutched tightly as if afraid her ticket might escape.

Arriving breathless, Noelle found the door attendant in the process of closing up. Her lungs protested the exertion, legs already sore from the brief jog. She managed to catch her breath enough to hand over her ticket, which the attendant glanced at briefly before nodding her through the entrance. The theatre was already dark, the actors already on stage opening up the scene when Noelle ducked in. She skimmed along the wall and finding one in a handful of empty seats in the back row.

Just as she sat down, Tom stepped onto the stage, his heart racing with a mix of nerves and excitement. The auditorium stretched before him, a sea of expectant faces shimmering under the soft glow of stage lights. His gaze flickered across the audience, searching, hoping to catch a glimpse of Noelle.

"In this tranquil setting," he began, his voice steady and resonant, "where the lake whispers secrets to the wind, I find solace in the embrace of nature's beauty."

Marcelline, embodying Nina's youthful admiration, approached him with eagerness, "Boris, tell me of your latest story. Your words weave magic in my mind."

Tom, as Trigorin, smiled warmly at Marcelline, his eyes reflecting the character's depth of experience. "Ah, Nina," he replied, "your enthusiasm is a balm to my soul. I draw inspiration from the simplest of moments, the fleeting whispers of life."

Jordan, portraying Konstantin, interjected with a hint of resentment. "Your stories, Boris, they enchant Nina and the world. But do they speak of truth or mere fantasies?"

Tom met Jordan's gaze, a flicker of amusement dancing in his eyes. "Ah, Konstantin," he mused, "the artist's eternal dilemma. Truth, illusion—perhaps they are two sides of the same coin, perceived differently by each soul."

The other actors, fully immersed in their roles, engaged in a lively discussion that echoed Chekhov's exploration of art and existence. Tom's performance carried the weight of Trigorin's introspective nature, his voice resonating with the character's complexities.

Throughout the scene, Tom's eyes darted to the audience between lines, silently hoping to spot Noelle among them. His performance, a delicate dance of words and emotions, captured the essence of Chekhov's themes while his heart beat in anticipation of her presence.

Noelle sat in the dimly lit auditorium, her gaze fixed on the stage where Tom, transformed into Trigorin, held court with his eloquent words and charismatic presence. The play's dialogue floated through the air, mingling with the soft rustling of the audience and the occasional cough. Yet, for Noelle, all peripheral sounds faded into insignificance as she watched him.

Tom's voice resonated with a depth that captivated her, each word a brushstroke painting vivid images in her mind. His eyes, usually warm and inviting in their everyday encounters, now held a new intensity—a reflection of Trigorin's conflicted soul. She noticed the subtle shifts in his expression, the way he leaned forward in earnest engagement with his fellow actors, and the graceful gestures that punctuated his dialogue.

As Trigorin, Tom embodied a blend of charm and vulnerability that stirred something deep within Noelle. It wasn't just the character he portrayed but the essence of Tom himself, laid bare on stage. She felt drawn to him in ways she hadn't fully acknowledged before, his presence enveloping her thoughts and emotions with an undeniable allure.

In the darkness of the auditorium, surrounded by the unfolding drama and the palpable energy of the performance, Noelle's heart beat in sync with the rhythm of the play. She couldn't tear her eyes away from Tom, each fleeting glance he cast towards the audience igniting a flutter of anticipation in her chest. The distance between them seemed both vast and infinitesimal, a tension she struggled to define yet couldn't deny.

Noelle's fingers curled around the armrest of her seat, her breath catching in moments of poignant dialogue that resonated with her own inner turmoil. She watched Tom with a mixture of admiration and longing, the lines between reality and fiction blurring as she found herself caught in the spell he wove with every word and gesture.

She glanced around the theater, noticing the rapt attention of the audience, but her focus remained on Tom. In that moment, watching him embody Trigorin's complexity, she couldn't deny the magnetic pull he exerted on her heart. Each word, each gesture only deepened her admiration and affection for him.

And then finally, finally, Tom saw her. As his gaze settled on Noelle, a soft smile touched his lips, and he delivered his line with an intensity that resonated with his own emotions:

"Amidst the chaos of life's stage, a solitary figure emerges—a beacon of serenity in a sea of tumult...."

The words carried a dual meaning, echoing both the character's sentiment and his personal recognition of Noelle's presence; a calming presence amidst the nerves and anticipation of the performance. He was doing so well, he was so close and he would be at the end.

On stage, Bianca's movements were fluid and precise, each step echoing the rhythm of the music pulsing through the theater. As she pirouetted and leaped, her eyes occasionally strayed to the audience, seeking a familiar face. Amidst the sea of spectators, she caught sight of Noelle's family—her aunt adjusting her seat, her uncle leaning forward with interest. But Noelle's absence was palpable, a void in the audience that Bianca couldn't help but feel keenly.

A flicker of disappointment crossed her features, mingled with a hint of resentment that tightened her movements, infusing her dance with an unexpected intensity. She pushed through, channeling her emotions into each graceful arc and turn, determined to make her performance memorable despite the absence that weighed on her heart.

The final curtain fell with a hushed finality, the stage bathed in the glow of the overhead lights. The audience erupted into a thunderous standing ovation, hands clapping in unison as cheers filled the air. Backstage, the cast of gathered, their faces glowing with relief and pride. Tom stood among them, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. He ran back on stage to take a final bow with his cast mates, so overwhelmed and grateful for the reception.

Amidst the celebration, Tom's gaze found Noelle in the audience. Her eyes sparkled with pride as she clapped enthusiastically, a radiant smile lighting up her face. Their eyes locked briefly, a silent exchange of shared joy and accomplishment passing between them. Tom's heart swelled with happiness, knowing that he had not only impressed the audience but also earned Noelle's admiration.

As the curtain fell and applause thundered through the theater, Tom found himself swept up in a whirlwind of backstage activity. He exchanged quick hugs and high-fives with Marcelline, Jordan, and the rest of the cast, their faces alight with exhilaration and relief. The adrenaline from the performance surged through him, keeping fatigue at bay as they navigated the maze of corridors backstage.

They reached the dressing rooms amidst laughter and excited chatter, the air thick with the lingering euphoria of a successful show. Tom sank into a vanity chair, his legs trembling with lingering nerves and the lingering rush of performing. His costume felt like a second skin, a reminder of the character he had just inhabited, and he couldn't help but replay moments of the play in his mind.

"Tom! Group photo!" Marcelline's voice broke through his reverie, pulling him back to the present. He pushed himself up with a smile, joining the cast for a photo that captured their shared triumph. Flashbulbs popped as they posed, their faces still flushed with the heat of the performance.

As the theater buzzed with post-show excitement, Tom stood near his dressing room, scanning the crowd with anticipation. Amidst the throng of well-wishers and fellow actors, he spotted Sunny weaving through the crowd, a wide grin plastered on his face. Sunny approached with his characteristic exuberance, arms outstretched in a gesture of camaraderie.

"Mate!" Sunny exclaimed, pulling Tom into a quick but heartfelt hug, "You killed it out there! Seriously, the whole audience was eating it up."

Tom laughed, returning Sunny's embrace briefly before pulling back to meet his friend's enthusiastic gaze. "Really?"

"Yeah! Fuck'n move over, Dicaprio!" Sunny clapped Tom on the shoulder, nodding towards the dispersing crowd, "You were incredible. And hey," he added with a wink, "I reckon someone else agrees with me," Sunny nodded subtly towards the hallway where Noelle stood, her presence a beacon amidst the backstage chaos.

Tom followed Sunny's gaze, his heartbeat quickening at the sight of her. Noelle's eyes met his across the room, her smile radiant and genuine. She approached them with a grace that seemed to quiet the bustling energy around them, her focus solely on Tom.

Noelle moved gracefully through the bustling crowd, her steps echoing just behind Tom's. As she approached, a rush of excitement and pride filled her chest. When Tom turned to face her, she couldn't contain her joy. With a playful squeak, she threw her arms around him, feeling his warm embrace as he lifted her off her feet for a brief moment. His presence, neroli oil mixed with the faint scent of his costume, enveloped her, filling her senses with a blend of musk and the lingering energy of the performance.

"Oh my gosh, Tom!" she murmured against his shoulder, her voice barely above a whisper but filled with sincerity, "You were incredible!"

He chuckled softly, "Thank you, Noelle," he replied, his breath warm against her hair, "I'm so happy you could make it!"

"I wouldn't miss it for anything," she said softly, her fingers brushing lightly against his as they stood close together, "You're always worth the wait,"

Tom's smile widened, his gaze softening as he squeezed her hand gently, "And you make every moment special," he replied, his voice filled with quiet sincerity.

In that fleeting moment, amid the buzz of the crowd and the shared euphoria of the evening, Noelle felt a comforting warmth envelop her. As she locked eyes with Tom, a silent giddiness passed between them, a taste of whatever adventures lay ahead for them for the night...

[problematicbots]

Winged Sentinel au Snippet 4: Repairs

Jazz sat down in the waiting area that was across from the Perceptor’s Laboratory anxiously waiting for Sentinel to exit from the doors.

Jazz’s servo was still gripping at his wrist still not believing he pulled away when Sentinel needed his help, he felt terrible for his actions however he couldn't feel a sense of safety for not touching the prime turn jet…by all spark what was wrong with him he shouldn't feel this way at all and yet he was.

On one hand, He wanted to be there for Sentinel however on the other hand he couldn't get over his uneasiness over jets that easily no matter how hard he tried, the only thing he could hope for was that crushing into a building would be enough for Sentinel to drop this whole winged idea and everything would return to normal..this was a normal thing to think about right?

Before Jazz could sink further into his thoughts, he heard laughter from the hallway. He peered over to find that laughter was coming from three mechs who seemed to be approaching him.

“you won't believe what I heard but that hot-head Sentinel turned himself into like those two freak shows ” snickered a red mech placing his arm around a green mech next to him “If he wasn't so lucky he be offline under that debris, I am right”

This wasn't the first time Jazz heard somebody talking terribly about Sentinel. It was quite common to be critical or make fun of the prime yet hearing mech laughing over the possibility of Sentinel’s dying ready, some a core with Jazz so quietly rose to his defense.

“Huh, hey, maybe you shouldn't say something like that, man; it's a bit of a mess up,” spoked Jazz, cutting into the conversation awkwardly.

The group of mechs turned their heads toward Jazz in annoyance at the sudden interruption in their conversation.

“Come on, Jazz, you gotta admit, it's a bit freaky, isn't it?” spoke up the green mech in a condescending tone.” Unless you're into that kind of thing, but you aren't, are you?“

Jazz gulped in fear ���Well I mean i-not exactly but- huh look it just- ” he cut himself off there not knowing how to pond to the golden blue mech's comment since on one hand he did find jets unsettling yet on the other hand it was rude to talk behind Sentinel’s back which wasn't his style at all. .

“Don't be ridiculous ”, piped up a yellow mech, rolling his optics at the green mech. “ Jazz is. There is no way he would associate with those things, right jazz?”

Jazz felt his hard drive begin to malfunction, trying to get words out of his glossa as the group of three mechs roved around him like vultures hunting their next meal.

“Right jazz? ” repeated the yellow mech in a more threatening tone with their optics narrowing at him. Leaning closer to his faceplate.

Jazz, feeling overwhelmed, got up from his seat quickly making an excuse to get out of this situation.

“look need a moment to think!” yelped Jazz quietly already slowly backing away from the three mechs before slowly dashing away to hide behind a pillar

Oh man, he felt like a coward for doing this, but what he was supposed to do was he couldn't fight three fellow Autobots, and the last thing he wanted to do was cause trouble.

A minute later Jazz peeps from behind the pillar to check if those mechs are still there Lucky for him it is seen as they have left yet he can't help but feel unsafe, sure they don't pull their weapons or anything yet their tone was dangerous and he couldn't wonder if he could keep himself or Sentinel safe while keeping the rest of the Autobots respect for him.

Not knowing what else to do, Jazz simply sat back in his seat with fear in the spark of what to come next.

__________________________________

Despite the disaster of that last training session Sentinel has learned a few things from that scrap fire of a show.

1: Buildings were way too close to the training area for comfort

2: yelling commands at your soldiers at full volume doesn't work when you are crashing into things

3: as Project Vedette, he now has to go through the same check-up process as Jetfire and Jetstorm.

That right, Sentinel found himself lying on the examination table once again, but this time, Jetfire and Jetstorm were lying down on separate examination tables beside him while Perceptor operated a giant machine behind a control panel, using claws to poke and analyze different parts of their bodies to check for injuries.

Sentinel, of course, hates this yelping and complaining every time a claw would poke at him. Not only was this painful, yet very unsettling.

“ow! Hey, be careful with that,” yelped Sentinel as one claw jabbed at his chest plate harshly

This might be the second worst thing that Sentinel ever experienced in his whole career aside from being a literal head but he wasn't the only one going through this, he turned his helm to find that Jetfire and Jetstorm were being poked at too both with a look of discomfort across their faceplate seeing this raised a question in Sentinel’s hard drive that he allowed it to slip from his glossa.

“Are all your checkup sessions like this?” whispered Sentinel towards the twins.

“Don’t worry, Sentinel sir, we..well gotten used to it,” replayed Jetstorm with a smile across his faceplate, yet a sad and almost scared undertone to it.

Sentinel didn't like the idea of the sound of that at all, especially when Jetstorm, despite his cheerful faceplate, was clearly in unease

“Don't you..you know, ever get sick of it?” asked Sentinel, raising his non-existent eyebrow at Jetstorm.

“... Sir..don't tell Jetfire this sir but..do we have a choice..” whispered Jetstorm

This immediately sent alarms through Sentinel’s hard drive. He didn't like the idea of his soldiers having no say, choice, or consent in these checkups; this was something he needed to speak to Ultra Magnus about sooner or later.

However, the most unsettling part is how Jetstorm appears isn't telling Jetfire anything strange. Sentinel thought these two were two peas in a pod that knew everything about each other, but apparently, they weren't.

Before Sentinel could think about the implication of a raft between the twins, another claw poked at his body, making him yelp again.

“Do you mind? You give me faulty wings, you might as well have the decency to be careful with the rest of my body!” shouted the furious prime at the uncaring scientist

Perceptor stares at the complaining prime, emotionless, clearly not caring for the pain he is going through.

“Your wings aren't defective and are perfectly functional,” responds Perceptor, pressing a button on the control panel.

Suddenly, a hologram of Sentinel’s current wings appeared in front of the Sentinel's faceplate, showing a one hundred percent functionality rate on a graph with some numbers.

“It is the lack of knowledge of how to use them is the problem “ he continued before turning off the hologram “If you want to solve this problem I suggest you begin researching the source of aviation otherwise this project would be considered a failure so be glad that Ultra Magnus is giving it two more chances “

Sentinel scoffed at Perceptor’s words wondering what he was supposed to do with that information.

“Well, what does Ultra Magnus expect me to do? Grabbed a datapad that says “how to fly” on it?” and read it overnight” muttered Sentinel under his breath.

Sentinel suddenly paused for a moment as, once again, another offhand comment he made popped an idea into his hard drive, an idea that he didn't exactly like, but it was worth a shot if he or the twins wanted to make any progress but first, he needed somebody who he can trust to talk about this too.

________________________________________

The door to Perceptor's Laboratory opened and Jazz sighed in relief when Sentinel walked out with Jetfire and Jetstorm behind him.

Unfortunately, the Prime still had those wings attached to his back, but that wasn't the only confusing thing that Jazz saw; he raised his optics as he saw Sentinel ordering the twins to go to their quarters before approaching him and pulling him to the side.

“Still keeping those wings Sp?” asked Jazz way more condescendingly than he intended.

“Well- WELL I just need to research deeper into it that all” gulped Sentinel defensively “and well maybe our huh little prisoner knows a thing or two about this “

Jazz’s jaw fell straight to the ground: oh no, Sentinel wasn't thinking what he thought he was thinking, right?

“Wait, Sp.. aren't thinking about talking to Starscream, are you?” Asked Jazz “he tries to escape four times this cycle”

“. Actually, It was five times since there was a certain..incident with a box,” corrected Sentinel, “and it was more of an interrogation than anything else. After all, who knows more about flying than a Decepticon, right?”

Jazz didn't like his idea at all since what if Starscream could try to escape again and hurt or kill anybody in his path? Sure, they had the Decepticon outnumbered, but the risk was still there, making Jazz uneasy.

“Plus unlike those other times, our huh security has been increased so I doubt he will try to escape this time” Sentinel continued with pure confidence in his voice box. “not with all the security measures I ordered he stands no chance “

Jazz sighed knowing there was no way he was going to convince Sentinel to back away from this, especially when he barely could convince Sentinel to back away from removing those wings.

“well if you say so sp “ sighed Jazz with a terrible feeling beating in his spark “Just let me go with you if that's ok”

“Well, I mean suppose I could use some backup “ replied Sentinel, rubbing the back of his helm awkwardly. “so..yeah sure”

This made Jazz feel a million times better that he at least got to be by the prime sides just any go wrong: he can't even imagine what would happen if Sentinel went to confront Starscream alone.

“Right, let's go,” sighed Jazz, not exactly ready for what was going to happen next, but at least they were by each other's side. Right?

________________________________________

Sentinel and Jazz stood in an elevator heading down to the deepest parts of Fort Maximus. Usually, the majority of cybernation prisoners would be transferred to the prisons of the former Decepticon city of Kaon, yet due to the many escape attempts made by Starscream, it was decided for everyone's safety that he remained in his temporary cell from now on.

The doors of the elevators slide open as Jazz and Sentinel step out into a grayish short hally filled with multiple security cameras, a giant metal door, and a keypad next to it on the wall.

Without a word, Sentinel approaches the keypad, entering a code and opening the metal door, revealing another short hallway large metal door with a keypad.

Once again, Sentinel approaches the keypad, entering a code, and once again, the metal door opens, revealing another metal door.

“Huh, Sp, how many doors did you order? “ asked Jazz, watching Sentinel once again, entering a code to open three other metal doors.

“Huh about 25, why?” replied Sentinel nonchalantly

Jazz's jaw dropped at this comment “25?!’ he nearly yelped at this.

“Hey! Better safe than sorry right!?!” responds Sentinel defensively as he entered another code to once open another metal door. “Plus weren't you worried about him escaping a minute ago?”

..Well, Sentinel wasn't wrong on that, but even still, Jazz thought this was a bit overboard even for a con, and he couldn't help but sigh a little bit. “This was going to take a while, wasn't it?” he thought to himself quietly

After what felt like a whole cycle the last metal door opened revealing a mostly glass cell surrounded by multiple cameras

and inside the cell was the Decepticon Starscream himself, standing there with static cuffs on his servo and looking at his reflection in a mirror on the wall, seemingly checking himself out.

“Who's greater than Megatron himself? That right you are,” snickered Starscream, seemingly to himself, blowing kisses to the mirror.

Sentinel and Jazz raise their non-existent eyebrow at the strange scene, not knowing what to make out of it. Sentinel, for a moment, considers throwing the mirror out of a window since that self-bragging from the con is already getting on his nerves; however, it did give him an idea that makes a smug smirk cross his faceplate.

Jazz knew that exact look Sentinel’s faceplate the prime was up to something but he didn't know exactly what.

“Well, if you think you're such a “great, “ huh.. Decepticon.. you would know how to fly, right?” taunted Sentinel, trapping on the glass cell with his digitals. “ Well unless of course, you have been floating in the air this whole time “

This set off Starscream immediately turning his attention away from the mirror towards Sentinel with pure rage in his optics.

“FLOATING!!? AUTOBOT I HAVE YOU KNOW I COULD FLY CIRCLES AROUND YOU ” shouted Starscream offended by Sentinel's comment that he didn't even notice Sentinel’s wings at first “ I DON'T FLOAT”

“OH Really, looks like floating to me,” mocked Sentinel, messing with Starscream’s hard drive.

“It's FLYING,” replied Starscream, angry with his voice growling louder every second that this Autobot dared to call flying something as low tier as floating.

“F.L.O.T.I.N.G,” mocked Sentinel, snickering a bit enjoying Starscream’s annoyance.

With that, A seemingly endless back-and-forth argument between the two mechs begins while Jazz finally realizes what Sentinel is trying to do, he can't hold back a little giggle coming from his faceplate, so he lets it play out.

“Pf, what is the difference anyway ”sneers Sentinel, crossing his arms and rolling his optics

This is seen to trigger Starscream as the Decepticon voice booms across the cell Sentinel wouldn’t be surprised if the entity of Cybertron could hear him from miles away.

“I HAVE YOU KNOW FLOATING IS FAR LEAST ELEGANT BUT FLYING ON THE OTHER HAND IS-” With that Starscream went on a full detailed rant on the difference between flying and floating.

Sentinel quickly took out a datapad and wrote down every word, making sure no details were left unchecked, while Jazz couldn't help but look a little impressed.

“Smooth SP” whispered Jazz over to Sentinel with a smile on his faceplate.

This seems to catch Sentinel off a bit since he nearly dropped the datapad at Jazz’s compliment but quickly grabbed it before tucking it away as a small blush spread across this faceplate.

“We-well huh thanks…Jazz” coughed Sentinel put his one arm around Jazz “You know it isn't easy dealing with these Decepticons so be glad you have me by your side”

“yeah, sure,” replied Jazz, chuckling under his breath although a bit nervously since he could feel Sentinel’s wing slightly touching his back, which he didn't like at all, making him a bit queasy.

Jazz’s queasiness by Sentinel's wings was noticed by Starscream, who suddenly stopped ranting as a small smirk formed on his faceplate, A smirk that Sentinel caught immediately on the con's face and didn't like at all since he suspected the con was up to something.

“HEY, WHAT'S YOU'RE SMIRKING AT?!” shouted Sentinel, removing his arm from Jazz and pointing at Starscream, who quickly put on a poker face.

“Oh, nothing. I just thought of something funny,” replied Starscream, pretending that he was just thinking of a fun joke instead of what he was plotting in his hard drive.

Sentinel narrowed his optics at Starscream, not believing his word. After all, a mech can't just laugh for no reason, right?

“I’m watching you “ snarled Sentinel before turning his heel to leave “Come on Jazz let's get out of here”

Jazz nodded and followed behind Sentinel until he heard a chuckle from Starscream from behind, stopping him in his tracks while Sentinel was already far ahead, heading back to the first datapad.

“Those wings are a sight for sore optics aren't they?” snickered Starscream mockingly “Must be sickling for you Autobots to see a reminder of your greatest enemy walking around “

Jazz knew he should just walk away right there and not listen to Starscream’s comments, yet he couldn't for a moment. He stood there frozen in silence as his servo grabbed his wrist again.

"Oh, don't act so high and mighty by not saying anything, Autobot," scoffed Starscream, not a fan of Jazz’s silence. "We both know the truth: you find those wings disguising."

"And we both know everyone you ever know will turn their back on you if you continue to stand by a jet side, so if I were you, I would run away as far as possible unless you want to lose everyone's respect," continues Starscream, with that smirk growing bigger on his faceplate.

This got to Jazz since he is friends with everyone on the Autobots, and the fear of losing their respect has already been looming over his helm ever since that encounter with those three mechs. This was something that Jazz didn’t want to lose.

“I-you don't know that “ stuttered Jazz turning around to face the con. “ Who knows maybe everyone might end up being chill with it”

This made Starscream laugh in Jazz's faceplate since he couldn’t believe this mech had so much faith in others who live in a society that learned to associate flight with the emery they fought against for many cycles.

“You're lying to yourself, we both know it,” chuckled Starscream, his tone dripping with scorn.

Jazz stood in stunned silence, feeling a sense of entrapment despite being the one outside of the cell. He remained motionless until Sentinel's voice broke through the tension.

“Hey, are you coming or do I have to lock you up there with Starscream?” Sentinel's words carried a hint of teasing.

Jazz turned to see Sentinel's figure peering from the now-open many metal doors. With a resigned sigh, Jazz swiftly moved to join Sentinel, but not before catching Starscream's parting words.

“Good luck,” snickered the Decepticon in a whisper, his mocking tone echoing across the hallway.

Those were the last words Jazz heard before Sentinel entered a code into the datapad, sealing every door with a resounding clang.

[captain-mj]

Monster handler?

With a portion of PriceGraves on the side please?

Yeah, I can do that :) Little short because I did not have much time

Price looked at Graves. Their mission, unrelated to Graves's project but he agreed to tag along for the fun of it, had been a perfect success.

Graves looked radiant. His wings were a silkie color and they fit his frame well. But just like with Alex and Ghost, he looked wrong. There was an air. The shadows were darker. Proportions wrong. When he looked at him though, his heart skipped a beat.

"John." He tilted his head. "You okay?"

"Yeah. I'm good." Price smiled. "It's been fun, doing missions like old times."

Graves hummed. "I did miss your attention." He smiled, looking just like the sergeant Price met once.

Price reached over, tracing the little scar on his cheek. "Graves, can I ask you something?"

"I'll try to tell you the truth." Graves smiled and leaned into his hand.

"Did you volunteer for this?"

Graves laughed. "John, you're so funny." He pulled away from him and pulled away. "Exfil is going to leave soon."

Price grabbed his wrist and was immediately yanked forward so hard he fell to his knees. Graves dragged him along and he had to just get his feet underneath him or fall. "You didn't did you?"

"I just got back. Six years I haven't seen you and you can't put this aside for now?" Graves looked at him, scowling. "Not important. What's important is I am what I am and I've done well for myself." He let go of Price who quickly found his footing.

"I'm just checking in. At one point, I was your lieutenant. I worried when you just..."

"Don't." Graves marched forward, shifting as easily as sand moving. "I did just fine without you."

Price winced, but he followed him. Like he would've done back then. Like he wanted to do.

It was selfish and stupid and it was good that he was stopped from just deserting.

But God he would've followed him anywhere.

-

Laswell sighed and patted Ghost's head. "Darling, it's not like that."

Ghost was more embarrassed by his little outburst than upset right now. He could tell Soap was trying not to get upset and he couldn't blame him. Soap sat in the other chair in Laswell's office but he wasn't looking at him.

Laswell continued when he didn't respond. "Graves is an old friend of his which is why he volunteered. Shepherd was the one who said you should be handled by someone else. Nothing you did wrong."

Ghost hated that she was so good at making him feel better. She reminded him too much of his mom. He eventually stopped her head pats, overwhelmed by the touch, but he nodded.

"Thanks, Katy."

"Anytime." She smiled. "Don't freak out so much okay?"

Ghost nodded, again feeling really embarrassed. Soap had been a genius to ask.

"Take the day off. Both of you."

Soap was rushing out the door and Ghost was on his heels. Before he even got down the hallway, Ghost grabbed him and picked him up.

"Hey! Put me down!" Soap lightly hit his shoulder and kicked his feet.

Ghost thought for just a moment and went outside. He ignored the Scottish cursings in favor of going straight up the building. Soap quickly quieted in exchange for holding on to Ghost for dear life.

"What are you doing?"

"Simon?"

"Okay, listen, I promise not to try to be your handler anymore okay? It'll just be on paper. We can just be friends, fuck buddies whatever you want, please just don't throw me off the building."

Ghost stopped at the top. "You really think I was going to kill you?" He turned around and sat down, pulling Soap securely to his chest. He put his head on top of Soap's.

Soap froze underneath him, a little overwhelmed and refusing to look down. "Uh... Maybe?" His grip tightened.

"No. This is my favorite spot on base. I wanted to show it to you."

Soap nodded. "Uh huh... why?"

Ghost buried his face in Soap's hair, wings curling around him instinctively. "Oh... i just.... You know."

"You're apologizing."

Ghost didn't say anything.

"You're hoping by showing your underbelly, I'll forgive you yelling at me."

Ghost sank further into him. "is it working?"

Soap laughed. "Ghost, i wasn't... mad. More just upset. It felt like you were pushing me away, again." He turned to him. "I've been putting everything I got into making you comfortable. Doing my best to keep you healthy and here."

Ghost kissed him for a moment, holding him tight. "You're doing great... I'm sorry for being... difficult."

Soap shrugged. "After everything you've been through, I think you earned the right to be a little difficult."

Ghost didn't want to be though. And he wouldn't. He wanted to be better. Earn those praises Soap gave him so easily. He didn't tell Soap this though, instead just kissing him senseless where no one could see them.

Taglist: @nalawayward @joltom @azure-winter-crow @korym @cod-hyperfixation @thychuvaluswife @revenge-of-the-bucket-demon @commie-ghost

[magicratfingers]

Progress report ! ૮ ºﻌºა ✨ kind of a work-in-progress diary for myself. v indulgent.

intense world of dick terrifying - goin good! got a main character, some supporting characters, figuring out the big rivalry today. Gotta figure out a format. I was thinking of basing it off of the Day at the Airport book bc it's only about 11 spreads but there's a lot going on on each one. Could leave it a comic but I also want it to be printable hmm catnips cantrips chooseyer-by-mail test - learning a lot! the world-building has been reallllllly fun - like the kind of fun where you want to go a little deeper bc you like it not bc you have to. perfect situation. Gotta resolve the mix between the DM roleplay and the actual postcards. Made and branded a whole gmail account and character to handle lost postcards - Pizza Kentucky III of the Isekai Post Office. Haven't been keeping up with the blog. But the blog is supposed to be more of a holding container than a 'thing'. One thing I did not expect to be learning was spreadsheets. Keeping track of names and addresses and choices and paths has given me a new perspective on pacing and structure. Also? Been a great excuse to finally play with UV epoxy and it's so straightforward that I'm mad it took me so long. media thats not just webcomics - dunmeshi is out!!! Laios my beloved. Still afraid to find and read Kotteri's Veil bc it will make me too feelings. Started reading books I loved as a kid (Redwall!!!) and some story craft books (found an NPR list somewhere) WRHP s2 - started to feel like work but changing up the backgrounds freed me up, feels fun again Sorcerer comic - paused while I wait for fashion inspiration to pull the ending together Emotional support paladin - paused till I feel like it. It's got such a specific delivery style that I don't wanna force to get the story out, so i gotta wait for some story aspects to firm up Bonnie & Clawd - more of a character study than a comic - fun to practice cutie pies cuddling. But... how DO birds and wolves smooch. Saw a youtube video about how ravens and wolves are friends and work together. So perfect. Valentines day thing - got some supplies coming tomorrow, gonna try out my idea. If it works maybe sell it? If it doesn't work, oh well, probably will learn something. Wanted to make perforated cards and stickers but got a little overwhelmed thinking about printing. Might just do a digital thing if an idea comes to me. Been wanting to make holographic stickers but when I sit down to think of a motif it feels stressful. Maybe I just test the Poodle Broadcasting System logo? I've always loved the aesthetic of valentines day but never felt like it's been delivered right. I certainly never felt indulged - something is always a little not-cute or too-cutesy. Think it could be really fun to have it be an annual 'surprise box'. I lost my halloween fam in the schmivorce so I could use a holiday to go crazy on. (For years I would drive out and help build a whole haunted house in a garage and it was like a week-long party with great food and movies and laughs. Sad to lose it, sadder still to know it was so easy for them to lose me. ) Dishupon - ok not as many players and responses as I'd hoped. But that wasn't really the point. Point was to invent some sanrio-y characters for fun - which i did. And I will also say that the exercise of coming up with a variety of cozy, fun, silly, spicy ways to think about dishes has made MY dishes mostly effortless. Even made a little foam clay Tiger coach and he's sitting on the window above the sink. Perhaps I will think of a game to get my car inspection done.

Overall January is great. Granted, it's the 4th. Had my ten year work anniversary (idk how old everyone thinks I am but it's Not 20) and got to 1010 followers on twitter on the same day. And the new d20 is out on the 10th so that felt real nice and square. Bit worried that all the good vibes I built up over holiday vacay will get smashed when I'm put on a new work project. But i feel like I'm about to level up a little bit art-style wise. Feelin grateful, feelin warm & cozy

[beesmygod]

So TotK seems to be clicking where BotW wasn't. Any insight on what the key differences are that work for you?

note: i played botw up until the calamity ganon fight and then went "yeah ok ive played a zelda game before", put it down and never went back. didnt play the dlc

i dont think anyone would be surprised to know that im a "majoras mask was the best zelda" guy but the reason has little to do with the "darker tone" or the lore but because reusing assets allowed the dev team to greatly (GREATLY in this case holy shit) expand on the actual contents of the game itself. i love gold/silver best for the same reason.

botw is like running around an empty movie set. theres nothing in that fucking game. at the time, due to the proliferation of crafting mechanics infesting literally every AAA game, it felt like nintendo was more focused about hitting all the checks on a checklist of tired mechanics that were included just for the sake of saying they had it. crafting! weapon durability! open world! pbbbbt.

none of these things proved to be enjoyable to me. keeping in mind that ive been playing zeldas since the snes (skipping only a handful of handheld games), the changes felt like steps away from what makes zelda games unique. crafting felt like an arbitrary step between me and potions. i wanted to swing my master sword with power, not experiment with clumsy weapons that stop existing after i finally get a feel for them. and the open world, frankly sucked.

mm rewarded me for my curiosity. experimentation and exploration would lead to interesting or gratifying results (did you know theres a paper airplane in ikana canyon...). botw is like playing in the window xp background. theres barely any landmarks, except shrines, or anything to do outside of getting the yiga clan's ass. theyre easy to pick out because theyre literally the only people on the road. the world is put to waste; i cant play with it, i can just observe and be extremely artificially hindered by its vastness.

this doesnt really fit anywhere else in the above open world rant, but trading the shrines for small and sparce dungeons was a huge let down. i was hoping for a series of cohesive puzzles intended to help my mastery of my newest weapon or ability. you know. like a zelda game

totk fixed this and every other problem in the best way possible; the devs dumped a ton of toys into my playpen, gave me a hot glue gun, and told me to go buck wild. i love to build a horrible contraption to solve my stupid problems or kill me instantly. i love that experimenting with weapons involves actual experimentation if you desire or you can have an inventory exclusively full of spear type weapons with vastly different properties by gluing a bunch of rocks or monster parts to it. but most importantly....the "stock up->head out->explore->return" loop no longer feels like i have to go to the dmv over and over.

sure, the depths are artificially large in the way that the map in botw was; theres not a lot to do except reveal the map and do plot stuff. but the overworld was given a complete overhaul using the empty map as a starting point. theres actually stuff to look at, ruins to explore, caves to investigate, holes to jump into, and all that shit in the sky to explore. the sky map might be sparse but its meticulously crafted so that just the process of explorating the archipelagos feels like a puzzle you need to solve, as opposed to a hurdle you have to jump.

there is so much more to do in totk that im pretty sure im over 20 hours in and havent done any of the regional main quests. ive been running around picking up side quests, uncovering the map, exploring the depths, fucking around in the sky, and dying my clothes. but its not annoying or overwhelming. it feels more alive and less like a weird map in an abandoned gmod server. im having fun.

for crit: imo, one of the biggest criticisms i have for both these games is that the voice acting is horrendous. nintendo has too much money to be tapping people who sound like they just got out of the shenmue soundbooth. zelda was not improved by voice acting and they should probably go back to everyone just having short exclamations like "HEH HEEH!" or "hmmm...".

also link doesnt roll anymore and its really fucking me up. im really struggling here lol. i keep trying to do dark souls shit and every fight involves me accidentally zooming in with the sheikah slate instead of locking on, hitting l1 istead of shield, and whistling for my horse instead of drinking estus.

also nerf rain

[bekahdoesnerdshit]

Playlist: Professor Ransom Kitwell

Alternate Title: She Took My Morals in the Divorce

Into the Fog by The Budos Band

An instrumental to kick things off. The slow build up, the heavy drum beats that sound like footsteps, the way each added instrument builds on the introduction until it kicks off into the real melody, it's so GOOD. And then the horns!! They're loud and on the edge of blaring, at times almost discordant, it's SO Ransom. And the obnoxious trill at 3:15 with what sounds like maybe a cup mute, that leads into such a fun solo that's So different from the rest of the piece!! It's so good. Very Ransom to me. Also, the title works as a joke about Curse of Strahd kjghdk

Don't Sing the Blues by Bohnes

I was ridiculous, young Icarus, I flew too close to the sun But when I reminisce that wickedness was the shit that kept me young And every choice I made, I wouldn't trade all that for anyone So don't you cry, cry, cry for me

This one's about young Ransom being an absolute shithead and having the time of her life. Having all kinds of adventures, getting into all kinds of trouble, and not regretting a moment of it. She firmly believes that the only bad experiences are the ones you chicken out of having. She doesn't want to have any regrets at the end of her life, and she's lived her life in way to make sure she gets to See and Do and Learn everything the world has to offer

Leader of the Pack by Wunderhorse

Some people have a special kinda knack Getting what they wanted just to stab you in the back Nine times out of ten it's the leader of the pack

Ransom is a shithead in a lovable scoundrel kind of way, but also in a, uh. In a shithead kind of way. Ransom is ambitious and driven, and she's not the kind of person to let anything get in the way of a goal she's pursuing. She'll say or do whatever she has to in order to get what she wants, consequences be damned. Or, at least, deferred. Sometimes this is a good thing, because it means she's willing to step up and problem solve when other people are hesitant or overwhelmed. But sometime it can add... tension, to relationships that matter.

Brighter Than the Sun by Brick + Mortar

I'm brighter than the sun, but I can't wait You're asking me to stay, I can't escape I'm staying up all night to sleep all day I'm brighter than the sun, but then one day

This song is mostly for Vibes, with the heavy guitar and drums and the vocalist who almost blends in with the instruments. It's also like, Ransom does have a huge ego and a lot of pride. But behind it is a kind of darkness, an edge of unhappiness. It's walled up tight, hidden largely even from Ransom herself, but it's there and it colors a lot of her actions in times of stress.

Two Letters by Bayside

Ex sounds dirty I can't say it, sounds so final and I'm still prayin' For the worst for the better, we're nothing now we're just two letters Hope you understand I'm not prepared to call you just a friend

The divorce soooooong. Ransom didn't change! She stayed exactly the same, and Hugh left her. She wasn't ready for their relationship to end, didn't even know it was something that was at risk of happening until it was too late. Without saying a word to her about it, Hugh had decided what she was wasn't enough for him anymore, took the life they'd built together, and left. "How to leave the past behind when it's around all of the time"? "I'm not prepared to call you just a friend"? Easy solution: don't. Go scorched earth, burn him entirely out of your life. It'll hurt a lot in one big burst, and then you'll be done with it and over it -over him- for the rest of your life.

Snitches and Talkers get Stitches and Walkers by Fall Out Boy

And haven't you heard, the word on the street is "I lost it, called it quits," get out into the sun Out from behind the gossip

I'll be sooo honest, I initially put this song on the playlist as a way to help set the tone for the kind of songs I was looking for and fully expected to take it off once I got the ball rolling. But like. It's a good song and ALSO. It's fast and loud and almost frenetic, like it's angry and trying to stay ahead of something. I feel like it encapsulates the anger of post-divorce Ransom, her lashing out and putting up walls that are there to this day. Big "I'll give 'em something to talk about. Something that I've done, not something I'm the victim of" type energy.

A Weak Ago by letlive.

I'm not feeling the way No, I'm not feeling the way they expect me to I'm not pulling away See, I'm just pulling the same shit on a different day

This is the last song I added to the playlist, and I actually subbed it in for another song (Devil On My Shoulder, if you were curious) after I'd sent the playlist to the server. This song is about Ransom unraveling after Allie's death, about how she became curt and blunt and - honestly?- mean in her grief. She'd been on her best behavior before because she'd wanted the party to like her more than they liked Allie, but when Allie was killed that motivation no longer existed. Ransom seemed to become an entirely different person overnight. This song is Ransom saying, no, I'm who I've always been. I'm doing the same shit, prioritizing the same way. You just don't like it anymore, because now it's getting in your way. Because you don't care about me, and you certainly don't care about Allie. (Please note, she is wrong about this. The party cares a lot, and Ransom was just too blinded by her anger and grief to see it. But that didn't change how she felt at the time, you know?)

Don't Walk, Run! by The Park Hill Romance

'Cause I've been on the run for a while But the runnin' ain't a friend of mine Oh ain't it fun With the fire back in your lungs tonight

Another song with Vibes (the same loud guitar and drums, the vocalist who blends with the music and sorta slides around instead of hitting notes precisely), another song about Ransom dealing with (read: ignoring entirely) the fact that "fuck everybody but me" isn't a long term solution and is, in fact, having an incredibly detrimental long term effect on her ability to make friends and empathize with other people. After getting in a nasty fight with one of her party members Ransom said something to the effect of "I'm out of practice having friends. I'd like to get back to it, though, if you'll let me." She's trying. She's getting better. But she's not quite there yet.

Every You Every Me by Placebo

Like the naked leads the blind I know I'm selfish, I'm unkind Sucker love I always find Someone to bruise and leave behind

I was very judicious with my use of Rallie songs; this is only the second one. It's about how, despite the fact that they treated each other SO poorly at the end, they're Ransom and Allie are the only people they could possibly fit together with. It's like that post about the fucked up charger and charging port that have warped each other so that they can only work together. That's Rallie. It's ALSO about the inevitability of coming back together, of ending up wrapped up in each other again. Hopefully, it will work out better this time. But regardless, no matter what they may tell themselves and the world at large, they're never going to be over each other or free from the other person's influence. Every time, every me, every you, we'll end up here.

Who is She ? by I Monster

Somewhere across the sea of time A love immortal such as mine Will come to me Eternally Immortal she Return to me

This is the "dealing with Allie's murder and the single-minded quest to resurrect her" song. It's spooky, a little unnerving, it's discordant in a way that's reminiscent of the first song on the playlist. It's about an obsession with a memory, a dream, and letting that obsession drag you down to the point that you can't distinguish reality anymore. And after Allie's death Ransom sorta, well... I also think the "Immortal she / Return to me" is haunting and is SUCH a strong way to end a playlist that started with loud horns and shouting and drums. Look how far we've come. Look how far she'll continue to go to fix what terrible wrong was done.

[dovahkinniez]

Spicey Lucian Flavius?

` 𖤓 . . . LUCIEN FLAVIUS.

NSFW headcanons!

18+ only! Sexual content ahead.

First, he's a switch with a submissive lean. He's the type to view sex as an intimate thing between lovers. Not just a thing to enjoy. He has to love the person to bed them. (How romantic)

And welp! He loves you, awww! Surprisingly, once he's on it. He's never off it. The type to get a taste and never want to stop, especially since he only fucks with someone if he's actually with them and comfortable.

Growing up he lived with a family of nobles where sex wasn't really a spoken subject, not with his friends either. So education wise he knows the basics, but he doesn't really explore his likes and dislikes until you.

Which is fun! Experimenting different things with him is what makes fun and he's a fun lover.

The type to laugh when things go wrong, "Okay. That didn't go as planned... Can I give you head now?"

He's a pleaser, through and through. Best time of his day is when his head is between the pages of a book or between your legs. He loves to taste you, to make you orgasm with his just mouth alone. His mouth has more talents than just riddle and poetry making.

He's messy too, gets drunk between your legs until you're shaking and begging him to stop because you're too sensitive.

Speaking of books, once you decided to tease him as he read, "Focus on your book." You said as you slowly went down on him, kissing down until you wrapped your lips around him.

He almost ascended so hard he found out why the Dwemer disappeared. 10/10 would do again.

Lucien is a loud person naturally. Yeah. He's not afraid to moan right into your ear. His moans are so pretty though. Like a siren lures sailors, his voice is like a melody as he moans and sighs out.

He whines and fidgets a lot, wanting more of you even when that's physically impossible. He worships you, all of you. Hands and lips and tongue everywhere and loves it when you do the same to him. It makes him feel wanted, feel loved and he hopes you feel the same when he does it to you.

The type to kiss down your body, hands grabbing everywhere as he keeps eye contact with you. His blue eyes locked onto yours as he kisses up your thighs with tiny bites and licks.

He has quite a slim and lean build, smaller thighs that the average Skyrim wanderer but he's the type that loves it when you're on top, and hates when you hover in fear. He actually loves feeling your weight, feeling every part of you as you fuck yourself on him. He could cum alone at the sight of you being pleasured.

As I said, literally all about your pleasure. It pleases him to make you feel good.

The type to spoon fuck, comfy in bed as he presses kisses against your shoulder and neck, arms tight around you as he slowly thrusts in and you, savoring the feeling as he breathes as evenly as he can to not burst too soon.

I don't see him being the type to last long. He gets turned on easily and you always turn him on, one swipe of your tongue and he's shaking. The power you have over him is overwhelming for him at times.

But good job he likes overstimulation. He loves it when you use his cock even after he's done because if you aren't done, he'll watch with his bottom lip between his teeth and body shaking.

Certified pretty boy. God. He's so pretty. Especially when he looks up at you. He naturally looks so needy and sweet it drives you crazy. Even when he has a moment of dominance he manages to make himself look so helpless against you.

Lucien wants to look at you, besides spooning he does prefer to see you. See your face twist in pleasure all because of him. To make eye contact and to kiss.

He loves kisses and cuddles. Especially during sex. It's comforting, intimate and he can feel you against him, he feels everything and ugh. He loves it.

A beg. He loves to beg. Especially if you're the type to play around. "No, my way or no way." Which he argues back and begs, half the time you purposely do it to make him this way. "You're so pathetic." Oh man. He's hard now.

He finds that so so hot.

Most definitely the type to love overstimulation. He loves it when you aren't finished with him and keep it going, to the point he's a shaking and crying mess because he's so sensitive and can't handle it anymore, the pain of it feels so good and he sleeps like a log afterwards.

He's eager to learn. To become better and loves it when you applaud him, when you tell him he's good. But adores it when you look at him with hard eyes, telling him nasty things.

Maybe after an argument where you get riled up and tower yourself over him as he sits down with crossed arms. He was so confident at first till you loom over him like a thunder storm, sneering in his face, afterwards he couldn't help but fuck his fist, moaning your name as he imagined all sorts.

I don't necessarily see him as a kinky person in most regards but he's definitely try it out. He'd never hurt you. Or insult you. No never. I don't think he'd ever tie you up or blind you. I think if it really gave you pleasure he'd do it. But nothing that'd leave a mark.

Him? Do it all. He finds it so hot as you do whatever you like to him, he loves to treat you like royalty and if you're in the mood to treat him like dirt, he's ready. He wants it.

But, all in all. He is a true lover. A kisser, toucher and a passionate person.