#i never would've done this if not for circumstances

[strangegreen]

Here are some photos of my coastal walk today! I got absolutely drenched in mud and the stick I picked up so I didn't fall became my best friend for 4 hours. Made it to the bus stop just as the sun was setting

[roobylavender]

i missed that class what dont you like about starlins rendition of their relationship?

(and also like, DID you think he did something in particular well or was it all…meh

the crux of my issues in this regard stems from batman #416. in the post-crisis era you began to see this way more lopsided depiction of bruce and dick's relationship wherein the former was portrayed to be almost.. bitter that dick had moved on to establish his own life. and it stood in great, great contrast to the bruce of the pre-crisis era, who was certainly devastated at the realization that dick was growing up, but also very intent for him to find his own happiness and way in life. they would have their disagreements on occasion (e.g., bruce initially disapproving of dick dropping out of college, bruce immediately taking leadership of a situation where the titans were involved when dick was better equipped to handle it, etc.) but the outcome of those situations was never outright bad yknow. bruce was very much capable of recognizing where he might have overstepped and subsequently stepped back to let dick have his own space. and i think initially max allan collins expanded on that dynamic in the post-crisis era in interesting ways by juxtaposing bruce's desire to see dick flourish against his own constant fear for dick's life. so instead of mike w. barr's comedic and lighthearted backup stories in early 80s tec where bruce disguised himself to keep an eye on dick's shenanigans and assure himself everything was going alright, you got this more serious confrontation within bruce with regards to his position as a parent. i don't think a lot of people read it that deeply but i've always viewed batman #408 as one of the most sensible depictions of that dilemma. the general complaints tend to be that this issue robbed dick of his pre-crisis decision to retire robin on his own, and i'll concede that as a worthwhile concern. but i don't think it's esp damning what with the implication that bruce no longer wants to be the person indirectly making the decision for dick to continue to be in this line of work. their moment at dick's bedside is less about bruce robbing him of the decision and more about him saying, if i let you still be robin, that's a direct reflection on me, bc i'm the one who got you to do all of this originally. i'm the one who put you directly in harm's way. if you're going to do this from now on, you need to do it on your own terms. you need to decide for yourself that this is who you want to be, without your relationship with me even being a factor.

it's a moment contributive to that delicious dynamic between them wherein every decision bruce takes to service dick's agency is inevitably read the wrong way by the latter to imply that he's not valued or not worthy of being seen as bruce's equal (and before the hounds pounce on me this obv does not include the increasingly abusive depiction of their relationship as the 90s progressed). that is an unavoidable dilemma when you're simultaneously someone's ward/adopted son and also their partner-in-crime! dick wants to be bruce's son and to be entitled to all of the love and care and protection that that entails but he also wants to be bruce's brother, his equal, his confidante, the one person he trusts more than anyone else in the world, etc. it's a tough place to be! it is paradoxical! and i'm so, so open to seeing that explored and think the way collins attempted to approach it in #408 was marvelous. but the way starlin (and other writers as well) totally swerved right in #416 to create this sudden resentment in bruce that dick had grown out of needing him was.. so utterly bizarre. like completely out of left field in a way i don't understand why people don't question it anymore bc in light of everything in the immediate fifteen years prior to the crisis it makes so little sense. their relationship with each other was so valued, bruce was so anxious to see dick establish himself while nonetheless maintaining a protectiveness over him, but it was all very much in good will even if he could overstep on occasion. it had all of the potential to allow for a very nuanced, empathetic exploration into the dilemmas of parenthood and esp when you are someone like bruce who has to forever live and contend with the crime of taking kids with him out onto the streets. bc he has to feel guilty! there is no escaping it. this is history, done and dusted forever, can't go back in time, so on and so forth. whatever harm comes any robin's way he has to live with as in some part being traceable back to his own actions. and i frankly believe that would be far more likely to evoke grief and anxiousness and concern than it would be bitterness that his son is charting out his own life

[primal-con]

One day I'm finally gonna type up all my thoughts about the evolution of the Primacy as seen through the Primes that bore it and how Rodimus actually isn't a bad Prime anymore than Optimus was when he first started out but today I'm tired and words are hard T-T

[lxvvie]

Telling Johnny, your lovable rogue of a husband, that you... you want a divorce.

What the fuck? What did he—what did he do? Johnny thought everything was fine. Thought you were happy, protected, and loved the way you want—what happened?

"It isn't... I just can't live this life anymore, you being gone all the time..." you petered off rather feebly your dissatisfaction with his life and how you feared for your life with what his duties entailed.

No hard feelings, but your safety mattered most. You hoped in time that he'd understand.

You moved on, made a safe space for your new life, and you think Johnny would've absolutely loved it under different circumstances. But the past is past and perhaps he'll find his own peace in the future, much like you've done.

So when you ran into Johnny one day, out and about with... a friend, that peace you so vehemently loved felt like a shaken foundation. All smiles, rogue-ish charm, intense stare, everything that made your heart flutter and knees shake and—

"Who is this?" Your friend asked curiously. A little too curious for your liking.

And Johnny, smile wide, eyes never leaving yours: "The husband. Right, bonnie?"

[ssentimentals]

what about… seungcheol, suggestive prompt number 40 😼😼

seungcheol and 40 sounds great hehe ;) thank you of course for requesting, hopefully you will like it! 💜

suggestive prompt: 'yell at me again and i'll give you reason to scream.'

'i am this close,' you pinch your fingers together leaving a tiny space in between, 'to start throwing stuff at you. don't tempt me, seungcheol.'

normal man would've huffed and walked away. normal man would've apologized and tried to stop the fight. normal man would've tried to calm you down. but seungcheol is not normal, so he only goads you on with that goddamn smirk on his face: 'i'd like to see you try with your shitty aim.'

shout that you let out is almost not human. you grab whatever you can reach first - remote from tv - and fling it at him with the force that you didn't even know you possessed; it flies past his head and slams on the wall behind him. seungcheol turns back to check and huffs: 'you can't even break stuff, babe.'

you groan loudly. seungcheol starts coming close and you rush to the sofa, grabbing pillows from it and throwing them at him without any coordination, somehow hoping that this influx of pillows will stop him for reaching out. it obviously doesn't, but what it does is amuse him to no end. seungcheol is grinning like a madman by the time he reaches you, pinning you to the sofa with his whole body. 'are you done?' he questions, arching both eyebrows. 'there are no pillows left.'

'get off me,' you press, knowing that trying to push him away will not work. seungcheol doesn't listen though, only presses his body closer to yours. it wouldn't be the first time for your fights to end up in something less about fighting and more about fucking, but this time you're way too angry. 'i said get off me!'

your scream surprises both of you. you have this pact, this unspoken agreement that you two don't scream at each other under no circumstances. this is not what any of you is willing to tolerate and you know it, that's why this scream leaves you shocked as well. seungcheol stares at you, unblinking and you instantly deflate, embarrassed at this outburst. it's okay for you to shout or groan loudly but never at him.

'yell at me again and i'll give you reason to scream.' he mutters, eyes full of intent. you gulp and he softens just a little, gently reminding you: 'we don't scream at each other, baby. remember?'

you nod. 'yeah, i do. get off me now.'

he easily complies this time, giving you his hand to help you stand up as well. you both stare at each other in silence, breathing heavily before seungcheol whispers: 'let's go to bed.' at your quirked eyebrow he adds: 'not for that. to talk. but it can be for that too, if you want.'

'god,' you moan, hitting him lightly. 'you're such an idiot. i hate you.'

seungcheol grins, wrapping his arm around you and pulling you towards the bedroom. he kisses your head and smiles at the way you lean on him, tired of the fight. 'i know. you tried to kill me with the remote, afterall.'

a/n: request your own here! <3 - nini

[strlingsav]

Hiiii Sav 🫶🏼🫶🏼🫶🏼

Could I request a Ghost x reader trope that's like... love based off forced proximity/ circumstances? Can be in their line of duty, fake marriage, but please get creative🫶🏼 and smut ofc!! Thank you for reading 😸

Hellooo! 🫶🏻

You most definitely can, enjoy!

Closer

– Simon "Ghost" Riley x F!Reader

— A months-long assignment has landed you in isolation with Ghost.

Explicit sexual content under the cut. Read at your own risk.

Your usual assignments were done alone. A few weeks, hunkered down in an abandoned site, surviving on MREs, cigarettes, and any alcohol you could find. They were the closest to a vacation you'd ever have, save for the uniform, guns and ammunition.

More often than not, you saved yourself from the warfare and stuck to surveillance. It was your specialty, a skill you'd turned into a career and notably so. John Price himself had requested you for the specially important recon mission, hearing talk from your past contracts about your detailed work.

In the past, you'd not opened yourself up to be recruited to a task force in hopes that you could keep some semblance of a normal life. Once you submerged yourself in your work, that went out the window. So you agreed, flew out to the location, and were dropped on a farm bordering a nearby city, of which Captain Price wanted more information. The rest was classified.

Not long after your arrival, you'd watched an armoured truck pull up the long gravel driveway. The soldier that jumped out, Ghost- as you'd learned to call him, was also assigned to your post. At first, you'd been irritated with Price for neglecting this detail, but once you'd learned that he was quiet and kept to himself, you didn't mind.

And he kept true to that fist impression. The introduction was short, hardly sweet, lacking emotion in his eyes and any effort in his voice. He towered above you, his body like that of a goddamn bear, and it made you nervous to share a house with him.

To say you didn't sleep with your pistol loaded would've been a lie- especially the first few nights alone with him. Of course, he insisted he'd keep to the first floor of the farmhouse, but you didn't trust the worn locks to keep a man his size out.

He took the night watch, often reminding you he had never been able to sleep, and was usually still awake during the day. Occasionally, he'd sneak off and rest for a few minutes, where you'd find him with his legs up on the aged sofa, hand across his face, soft snores on every exhale. It nearly made you smile the first time you saw it.

Your days were filled with quiet. Hours spent with your eyes peering through a pair of binoculars, jotting quick notes in the margins of already-full pages. Dates, times, movement, people, places. All of it, recorded, while Ghost played defence on the balcony, and lent an extra set of eyes.

You grew to enjoy the quiet. The deliberate looks while you passed each other, the knowing glances when you'd settle by the fireplace and eat your ready-made meals together. It was a silent routine that you'd perfected within the last few months. You eventually found yourself leaving the doors unlocked, putting away your pistol while you slept.

You began to nearly read each others' minds. Smooth, seamless interactions that made everyday pass with ease. Ghost was beginning to grow on you- the calming presence he offered, the endearing, mindless conversations that took place behind a bottle of bourbon. He even had a sense of humour- fucked as it was.

He was always willing to talk, to endure your mindless chatting every once-in-a-while. You'd not had an assignment with anyone else in a long time, and though your social skills were somewhat lacking, you could see Ghost becoming more comfortable. He enjoyed himself, actually.

"Price never told me, is this your first surveillance assignment?" You asked, setting the bourbon down on the table between you.

He shook his head, the skull staring back at you becoming a bit blurry under the influence. "Been other places before. Mostly infiltration, extraction, target searches, but not my first."

You sat back in your seat, your pyjama bottoms a laughable contrast to Ghost, who still sat in his uniform. You didn't think you'd seen him change, or whether he even owned civilian clothing.

You weren't usually so lax- didn't usually let your guard down after only a few months, but Ghost seemed to lure you in. You hoped it wouldn't prove to be a mistake.

"I do this a lot. Mostly alone," You replied, watching him intently as he lifted the bottle to his lips, and took a swig.

"Guess my bein' here throws you off, then." He swallowed.

"Not at all," You shook your head, your eyes watching him closely. "It's been surprisingly pleasant. I'm not as lonely as I usually am."

His gaze softened, acknowledging your compliment with a short nod. In truth, he'd grown fond of you too. Your little quirks, your sense of humour, even the way in which you organized yourself and your things day-to-day. Your appearance was just a perk. You hadn't caught him watching you, yet- he was sure you'd go back to locking your door if you had.

His watching wasn't entirely innocent, either. He'd catch glimpses of your thighs, your stomach; even your neck drove him mad. Shamefully, he'd finished to fabricated images of kneeling between those pyjama-clad thighs, watching your face contort with pleasure. Your gentle eyes and painfully inviting lips were always teasing him.

He couldn't remember the last time he'd been so close to a woman, lived with a woman. Regardless of whether it was an assignment, he began to feel comfortable in the abandoned house- like it was home. And as long as you were around, he found himself entirely distracted by you- whether it be your conversation or your face. So, your allusion to finding his company pleasant made his stomach flip.

"Still lonely though?" He inquired, his thighs spreading as he made himself comfortable on the rickety chair.

"You know how it is, I'm sure," You shrugged.

He did know. Fuck, did he ever know. But he wanted to hear you say it- hear you admit how lonely you are, how badly you missed being touched, kissed, fucked. It would make his intentions much less complicated.

"Not sure I do," He shook his head.

Your lips split into a grin- he was baiting you. You decided to give in, to see where it could lead.

"There are certain parts of you that'll always be lonely. Especially in our line of work." Your eyebrows raised.

His eyes pored into yours, watching you from beneath the yellowed kitchen light. His fingers tapped rhythmically on the wooden table, before he took another shot of bourbon. You rubbed your lips together- were you making more of his charcoal eyes staring you down, or was he imagining relieving some of the loneliness you so boldly talked about?

Your confidence had ultimately been increased with your drinking, and especially as his body language welcomed you in. Open arms, thighs spread, chest out.

"Doesn't always have to be that way," He said in return- optimism; unexpected but appreciated. His hips shifted again, sitting up straight as he subconsciously leaned in closer to you. "'M sure you've got options." Right there in front of you.

Was it an offer, or simply polite reassurance?

"Not as many as you'd think. And none as tempting as the one I shouldn't even be considering." You said, your eyes slowly lifting to his.

"What's stoppin' you?" His heart pounded in his chest as he awaited your response.

"Rules," You smiled softly.

You wondered if he had any idea you were referring to himself- surely he wasn't that oblivious. He had moved himself closer to you, watched your lips and tongue as you spoke- he was intrigued.

"Fuck the rules," He shrugged.

A deep breath in allowed you the momentary rush to stand to your feet and step toward him. You were close enough to cautiously lower yourself onto his lap, moving slowly until you were sure he was interested. His large hands flew to your waist as you planted yourself firmly. His expression- the little of which you could see, at least- remained unchanged. He wasn't oblivious.

His hands slid down your sides, gently caressing your hips before rounding your body and landing on your ass. He sighed quietly, almost unnoticeably- but his chest expanded and his grip tightened. A rough squeeze of your ass made you smile.

"Fuck the rules, then," You sighed, watching him grin.

He lifted a hand to your neck, long fingers tangling themselves in your hair, pulling your face closer to his so he could press his lips to yours. His mouth was warm and pleasant- just enough moisture on his lips to be soft to the touch. Your hands wrapped themselves around his shoulders, slowly inching closer as your kiss began to deepen.

His tongue slid against yours, forcing his way between your teeth and finding the soft, welcoming muscle of your tongue. He groaned, air exhaled from his nose fanning your cheeks. You returned the exhale, desperately sucking in air as his paw-like hands grabbed at your ass.

You couldn't help but grind forward, flinching subtly when his hands would palm your ass, or he'd so easily mould you against his body. His fingers were splayed out across your skin, calloused palms scratching the exposed flesh of your backside and thighs; his breaths became quicker with every slide of your hips over his groin.

You took note of what he seemed to enjoy- he was a bit rough, handled you with hint of carelessness and desperation, but you didn't mind. He was caught up in how your breasts felt against his chest, and how the curves of your body were so easy to glide his hands over.

Your fingers lifted the hem of your shirt, pulling it over your head, exposing your breasts. Ghost hardly blinked, his gaze falling to the supple flesh of your chest, nipples hardening with the impact of cool air.

"Christ," He mumbled to himself, especially hoarse and deep.

"Can I?" You asked softly, your hands reaching his shirt.

With a short nod, you lifted it over his head, revealing the physique of a hardened soldier- muscular, lean, bulky. Scars and burns acquired during his deployments flexed and rippled with his movements, his biceps popping up as he reached your hips with even greedier hands.

You'd stood to slide your shorts down your thighs, watching him lean forward to watch closely, to see every bit of you as best as possible. His eyes tracked from your breasts to your hips, eyeing the panties you wore, a single finger reaching out to hook beneath the fabric and tug it down.

In one fell swoop, his fingers slipped your panties off your hips. Before you could straddle him again, he stood to his feet, a hand wrapping around your waist and slowly turning you to his chest.

Goosebumps arose from your skin, his breath fanning the back of your neck, large hands holding you to his chest as his fingers crept toward your pussy.

"Been a long time?" He asked quietly, the rumble of his voice moving through his chest to your back. You shivered.

"Yeah," You nodded absently, arching your back, widening your stance when his finger reached between your folds. "A few years," You breathed, your head turning to find his eyes.

He leaned closer, his lips beside your ear as he simultaneously found your clit, applying the smallest amount of pressure to make your knees weaken.

"Stuck to doin' it yourself, yeah?"

Your cheeks flushed with heat, nodding slowly again, against his chest.

"Yes," You gulped.

"It ain't the same, is it?" He asked rhetorically, watching your nostrils flare, your tongue wet your lips as you writhed against him. "Don't get as wet when it's your own fingers?"

You shook your head.

"You're fuckin' wet now, sweetheart," He said, gruff and satisfied. "And I ain't hardly done anythin' yet."

You accepted his deduction, knowing he was right; it had been a long time, and it wasn't the same with your own fingers. Regardless, his warm body pressing against yours, his arms pinning you to him, his hard cock against your ass- he'd already done more than he even knew.

You whimpered quietly, dropping a few inches as he applied more pressure to your clit, working in circles while his lips clung to your neck. You tilted your head, allowing him more access, and wrapped an arm around his neck.

You breathed out, collapsing against his hold, letting him have his way with your pussy. You tried to hold out, to keep yourself composed, but the long, thick fingers rubbing short circles over your clit were going to cut your willpower short. His hand gripped your hip, pulling you against him, encouraging you to grind your ass over his cock.

You did- slow movements as you simultaneously ground your hips against his fingers. His breathing had picked up in your ear, harsh exhales as he held your body in his hands. You felt his breaths fan your neck, goosebumps appearing over your skin.

His consistent pace and gentle pressure made it easy to lose every other thought and focus solely on how his actions felt. Not longer after, he'd slid finger inside you, his breath hitching subtly at the feel of your insides. Warm, silky- enveloping him like a well-cushioned bed.

"Fuck, you feel good," He cursed. "You close?" He asked, feeling your thighs tremble.

You could only nod, focusing on the rough actions of his thumb, rubbing over your clit, and his fingers curling gently inside you. Your lips parted in an effort to suck in a breath, eyes shut, savouring the build-up and moments between where utter pleasure only began to spark. It didn't take much longer, your hands holding into his arms for stability as you came over his hand.

He slowly slid his fingers from you, satisfied with the trembling, weakened mess he'd made you into. His hands gently guided you against the table, pressing your chest against the cold wood.

You exhaled sharply, feeling his palm brush down your neck, then your back, before rounding your ass and leaving a gentle smack against your plush cheek.

You twitched, unsuspecting of Ghost kneeling behind you, parting your pussy to watch the liquid arousal seep out of you. You were still convulsing, when his tongue slid against you, his lips slurping against you.

A deep grumble of appreciation left his lips, vibrating through you. Your voice was hoarse, a moan squeezed out of your lungs that bounced off the table and rang loud in your ears.

"Y'alright?" He asked, accompanied by the sound of a belt buckle and zipper being undone.

You nodded, contorting your body to watch as his jeans dropped past his hips and his cock fell from his briefs. Your eyes widened when you felt him against you- he was bigger than anticipated, and you feared the consequences of being abstinent for so many years.

Surprisingly, as he slid in, your natural lubricant allowed him to enter you with ease. The stretch still stung, a quick sensation that made your body shudder. Your hands reached out before you, gripping the table as he filled you, his hips meeting your ass.

"Sorry, love," He muttered, "So goddamn tight."

"Keep going," You whispered, your body moving to watch him again as he thrusted the first few times.

His hands slid up your back, before settling on the curve of your waist. The leverage allowed him to get a better stance, and he bent down to meet your eye-line while his cock slowly penetrated you.

His other hand moved to grasp the back of your neck, his thumb on your jugular, eyes raking over your body but especially the view of his cock sliding in and out. It didn't last long, not when he reached beneath you to flick his fingers across your clit.

You sucked in a breath, letting out a short cry at the overstimulation.

"Was thinkin' about you, like this," He grunted. "Cunt spread open on my cock, that pretty face when you take it."

He was hoarse too, out of breath as his cock slipped in and out, his fingers still working at massaging your clit.

"Take it whenever you want," You pushed out, taking in a deep breath. "Just don't stop."

"Don't say that," He groaned. "Fuck- don't say that."

"I mean it-" You whispered, your eyes filling with tears, landing your cheek against the table. "'S yours," You whispered again. "All yours."

His hips stuttered, pulling his cock out of you before you felt warm liquid land on your back. You shivered again, feeling empty and exposed as he backed away.

He grabbed the nearest cloth, wiping it swiftly over your backside before you spun around to face him.

He arranged himself, doing his belt back up and adjusting the mask over the bridge of his nose.

"Get up," He said, gesturing for you to sit on the table, one hand around your waist.

"I meant it," Your eyes drifted up and down his body, your hand on his chest preventing him from lifting you. "Now that we have, we may as well take advantage."

Ghost stood quiet for a moment, as if thinking over your deal. He nodded, subtly at first, so subtle you hadn't even noticed, but then he agreed.

"Alright. Now- get on the table, 'n' spread those legs. Been wantin' t'taste you."

[a-bright-comet]

Jade Shadows Thoughts

(NOTICE: I have edited this post after a few days and many lovely replies and tags giving me more insight and opinions, overall my view of this quest has gotten a lot more positive, thank you all <3) okaaayyyy I am utterly rattled rn lmao also made the mistake of looking at tumblr after doing the quest and as expected it seems to be a 50/50 of hating or loving it. so here are my personal thoughts, I am a little scared but talk seems to be civil thankfully. I can definitely agree on the sentiment that this quest needed more time, cause let's be honest the people hating this quest wouldn't be jumping to the things they're jumping to if Jade herself got more screen-time before the big drop, warframe's style has always been vague and never 100% straight-forward and I think that unfortunately hurt it a bit this time, as what they didn't show came off wrong to many people and while I sorta see why I disagree on some parts. I also feel like the quest kinda got a bit *too* hyped both by DE and the fanbase's theories, way too short, it deserved and needed to be a bit longer for it's special narrative. Jade kinda got a weird spot, both being the main focus alongside Stalker but also hardly explored. But let's be honest, most of the negativity is caused by this outside-circumstance alone. Now, what I absolutely disagree with is people insisting that DE was trying to say "bodily autonomy bad" or that Stalker didn't care about her and only the child, thing is I thought it was pretty fucking clear that she *wanted* the child in what little was shown and she was going to die no matter the outcome (thanks to the orokin to absolutely no one's surprise) and Stalker in his guilt for all she's done for him wanted to make sure that he at least kept this one promise to Her, cause She wanted it. she still had bodily autonomy in the fact She wanted this, she wanted the child no matter what. and she wanted stalker to protect her and the kid. And he did, like a true loving partner. DE has a long track record of being very autonomy-positive. A point they make time and time again is that ripping it away is *bad* and horrifying, the quest is a bittersweet tragedy, not a horror. Honestly there would be 0 issue if DE had given us a Jade-only quest before this one, I personally would've preferred it as well, she's cool as hell she deserves it. who knows maybe DE will see all of this and make prequel quests? we can only hope. I do not want to assume the worst of anyone or anything cause that's a miserable existence. Look I personally enjoyed the quest and get the feeling whoever wrote it did it out of some personal experience or sorrow, that's at least the vibe I got. It's a tragedy, but her choice was seen till the end, many women choose to still have a child despite knowing they won't make it, many also don't, that's why choice is important. and she did, she chose her child that she was having while likely forcibly infested and turned into a warframe. (also remember there are women on the team who likely looked at this.) there are some other iffy parts of the quest, (really should've been the drifter instead of the operator if they were gonna do that, but that's personal discomfort.) but overall I enjoyed it and open to explore the implications of a born-warframe-child and Stalker healing as they both grow together. These are my thoughts, and I can understand why people like or dislike this quest, but I think it's fine and just ended up in a very unfortunate spot due to outside circumstances beyond it's control. (sorry if any of this comes off as aggressive it is not my intention despite how riled I am by some folk online, I disagree with you but I do not hate you, I don't even know you.)

Her choice, His promise, Their light.

Thank you for reading my first ever text post about something I care about, not sure I'll be doing this again any time soon out of anxiety lol (Edit: and thanks to everyone responding to this post wonderfully, ya'll are great and have lessened my anxiety and have made me appreciate this quest more <3)

[whoopsyeahokay]

October Sun

summary: you'd never been shy about sharing what you knew about the dead. to hide in plain sight was a decision you'd made behind your mother's back, all while respecting the warning she'd given you those many years ago. because, really, who would believe you?

pairing: Wally Clark x fem!reader

warnings: eventual smutty smut smut. and mad spoilers. and obvious Canon divergence. very involved, very dense plot.

tysm for all the love u guys 😭

___________________________💀

OCTOBER SUN pt.2

It was the first real day of spring, the sun shining and the breeze warm, and Mathilda had coaxed you and Xavier outside for lunch. You sat in the grass beside the bleachers and were lazily watching the football team run drills when you spotted Maddie and Simon.

They joined you when you waved them over, closing the circle, Maddie beside Xavier and Simon beside her putting him to your left.

You'd seen the way Maddie and Xavier looked at each other, bashful glances and pink cheeks when they thought no one noticed. They'd been cute for each other since you'd gone to the Gorrorcon screening of Grindhouse as a group last month. It was rare that Xavier tagged along for the gory movies, but as soon as you'd mentioned Maddie's name, he hadn't needed much convincing.

While the others chatted idly, your attention drifted, tracking a footballer who appeared to be coaching a boy dressed head to toe in denim. The boy looked uncomfortable on the field, held the football like it was a baby he might drop, and grimaced when the footballer jogged backward a few yards and signaled for the ball.

You knew who they were. Knew you shouldn't be casual about witnessing a moment they thought was theirs. Only, you couldn't help yourself. The footballer was handsome. Not hot or fit or fine. Handsome. With dark, fluffy hair and soulful eyes that you wished softened for you the way Xavier's did for Maddie.

Wally Clark, stadium namesake, died doing what he loved.

Even from afar, you could see the way the muscles in his arms bunched when he tossed the ball, had to wet your lips when his shirt rose to reveal a pale stripe of skin. Instead of the sweatpants he usually donned, he wore shorts that, in different circumstances, would've earned Wally a dress code violation. Barely there, they clung to him like paint on a canvas, accentuating the curve of his ass and thickness of his furry thighs.

Have mercy...

"Leave our sweet flower alone, you know she's saving herself," Mathilda said, pulling your attention back to the conversation happening around you.

The comment she'd responded to had to have been about your virginity. A realization you shook your head at while Mathilda made herself the picture of an angel. It was one of several tactics your friend group employed to violently drag you back to earth whenever your head was in the clouds.

Xavier chuckled and nudged Mathilda's shoulder with his.

"What I miss?" You asked, glancing between the others, still a little dazed by the image Wally made on the field.

Unfortunately, Simon didn't know the rules and, curiosity piqued, asked, "Are you really?"

"Am I really what? Saving myself?" Simon nodded. You grinned, shameless, and stretched your arms above your head as if embracing the sky, "Of course I am," then dropped backward to lie on the grass.

That wasn't entirely true. Simply, your virginity wasn't something you ruminated on, having never been in a relationship, but you'd also long since accepted that you couldn't do what Mathilda had done, finding an interested partner at a concert and losing it for the sake of getting it over with. "I'm surprised Tilly didn't tell you."

Mathilda scoffed, "About your ghost?"

"Ghost?" Now Maddie was intrigued, glancing between you, Mathilda, and Xavier, seeking answers. "You're saving yourself for a ghost?"

You rolled your head toward her and winked through your aviators, laughing lightly at her shocked expression. You could tell she wasn't sure what to make of it, hovering between interested in hearing what the hell you meant by that and concerned that you were that delusional.

"So, you wanna die a virgin, got it." Simon turned to look you in the eye, expression straight for all of three seconds before he started to shake with laughter.

You sat up and swatted at him; he grabbed your wrist and dragged you to his chest, giving him the angle he needed to grind his knuckles against your scalp. He released you when you shrieked and dug your elbow into his stomach.

Once you'd both settled, "How would that even work?" Maddie wondered, raising a hand to list her thoughts on her fingers, "I mean, a) say you guys can get physical, would it be like sleeping with a corpse?" Ew. God. "And b) don't ghosts haunt the places they died? So, if there was a ghost here, you guys would have to do it in a classroom or...the janitor's closet—" "Another nail in the coffin of Romance." Xavier said. You were surprised and somewhat gleeful that Maddie was willing to lend genuine consideration to such an absurd topic, to the point you didn't see the harm in revealing, "Actually, ghosts can roam as far and wide as they want. They aren't confined the way we are. I mean, they could get stuck in a loop if their death was that traumatic, but, for the most part," You smiled at her, "Ghosts can haunt wherever their spooky little hearts desire."

It's not as if anyone really gave credence to the things you said, anyway. Proven when Simon launched into a tirade that drew a lot of inspiration from a show in the Flanaverse.

Hide in plain sight. An idea you'd concocted when the witchcore revolution had exploded on tiktok, alt kids everywhere boasting a collection of healing crystals and excusing their behavior on Mercury Retrograde. Even your mother had taken advantage of the era, promoting her services via heavily filtered videos she had your sister film.

As far as everyone was concerned, your weird ghost lore was a matter of personal opinion and not the result of your family's unique and extensive library.

‗‗‗‗•‗‗‗‗

"Now what?" Simon asked, phone pressed to his ear, as he watched you retreat into the school. Probably questioning his sanity with every step after the conversation he'd just had with you.

"I don't know." Maddie admitted, picking her nails, "I really needed to believe it was true." Even though, before she'd died, Maddie had been skeptical about your sense of the supernatural.

While you'd been in the bus shelter with them, Maddie had argued at Simon to confide in you about his ability to see her. Thought, prayed, that you were perhaps too afraid to admit you could see her, too. Only, it'd become increasingly clear that you weren't faking how Maddie didn't exist in that moment with you at all.

Maddie's chin fell to her chest, eyes sullen. "She had no idea I was right here, I—" She groaned roughly and fell back against the glass, hands scrubbing her face. "—I don't know what I thought she could do to help, I just..." Hoped you'd have answers; maybe had a way of getting Maddie unstuck so she could roam further than the boundaries of the school grounds.

Too bad it was, as you'd put it, a fraud.

Simon itched to console Maddie, hated that he couldn't. He could tell she was conflicted, emotions warring between sadness and anger and resentment. You'd let her down, whether or not you'd meant to, and it stung.

"Hey," Simon said, trying to infuse some positivity into his tone, "We'll figure something out. Until then, I'll just keep doing the heavy lifting."

Maddie turned her head and regarded him softly, "I don't want to keep putting you in situations like that." She remembered Mr. Anderson manifesting behind Simon that night in autoshop, a tinge of menace in his demeanor, and winced.

"It's not like I have anything better to do." Simon shrugged and gave what amounted to a smile, "I got all this free time since my best friend went missing."

A pungent silence crept in and hung in the air between them, neither willing to address that went missing was putting a delusional spin on it.

💀___________________________

PART ONE - PART THREE

also available on AO3!

MATERLIST

[chrissdollie]

♡.˚ ୨୧ ｡˚ ♡.˚ eyes wide open

♡ summary: doing a bikini car wash was a lot easier than expected.. until your crush shows up ♡ warnings/notes: suggestive, matt sturniolo x reader, reader & matt are in hs, cursing ♡ wc: 945

you finished writing "CAR WASH FOR CHARITY" on your cardboard sign, putting the cap on the sharpie. the sun shines directly onto you and a small group of your girlfriends from school. one of your teachers encouraged everyone to find ways to gain money to donate to any charity of the school's choosing for extra credit in his class. so you and your group of friends decided a bikini car wash would be best.

"okay, donee!" you notify the girls while adjusting your pink bikini top. "oh god, it's already so hot." a girl fanned herself with her hand with sweat starting to moisten her very exposed body. you chuckle before reaching into your tiny purse that sat on your friend's car hood and pulling out lipgloss. seeing someone pull up, you quickly swipe a decent amount on your lips and grab the sponges.

everyone decided earlier that you should be the one to greet the customers since you're obviously the sweetest girl here. you strut up to the driver's side, your tits bouncing as you walk. the driver rolls down his window and you recognize him to be someone from your school. "hiya, jeremiah!" you wave with an inviting smile spread across your face, also nodding towards his friend in the passenger seat. he shamelessly eyes you up and down, not bothering to refrain himself. his buddy hits his arm, shaking his head with widened eyes. jeremiah rolls his. "shut up, i'm paying for this shit, may as well enjoy it."

about two hours have gone by, but thankfully it's still early! you girls sat on each others cars for your lunch break, munching and discussing the people who've come by. "yuck, that guy was seriously messed up, probably drunk." a girl scrunched up her nose. your close friend's eyes brightened, turning to you unexpectantly. "on a completely unrelated note, matt told nate who told jason who told madi who told me that he's coming by in the afternoon!" she squeals, shaking your arm excitedly. the other girls gasp and join in on the squealing, hyping you up.

a small smile creeps onto your lips, however, you're insanely nervous. your once silly little crush had fully blossomed into large and heavy feelings for the boy. last year, you would've probably jumped for joy and stripped naked so he'd notice you. you remind yourself that you're doing this for a good cause and extra credit. this is fine!

you wipe the sweat dripping from your neck when you hear an engine running. you turn around and see the vehicle your friends were just talking about. how very cliche. you throw the rest of your lunch out, walking up to the window. the face you'll never get tired of looking at blinks back at you once the window was halfway rolled down. "hey, n/n."

you smile toothily, "heyy matt! hi chris." you greet and the boy waves back with a smug grin. you hold your hands behind your back, lightly swinging back and forth. "i didn't know you guys were coming..!"

matt rolls his eyes. "fuckin' chris wanted to come." chris shoves his arm before muttering something under his breath with a sly smirk on his face. the boy scoffs in return, turning back to you. "we'll take the deluxe." he hands you the money and with that, you call over the girls.

like the other customers, your friends didn't hold back on rubbing their tits against the windows to earn cash tips. however, this time it was different because unlike the other guys, matt's eyes didn't scan every single inch of their bodies. you nervously scrub the car as you try to keep his gaze on you. under normal circumstances, you probably would've kept from showing off your body to matt. you were too shy for that anyhow. you still feel nervous, and even more so as bold thoughts flood your brain. ehhh fuck it, why not?

you confidently bring the sponge off the vehicle, raising it just under your neck. you squeeze it, bubbles and soapy liquid gushing out and trickling down the valley of your breasts. matt watches it fall to your stomach and down your thighs. he swallows, looking away before he gets hard-- that'd be embarrassing. but you're embarrassed too, you immediately regret your bold decision. especially when some of the girls cheer you on. matt looks back up, still looking at you. you bite your lip, moving closer to the car to finish cleaning.

once the car is fully rinsed, matt hands you a tip of $20. your eyes widen. "oh wow!" you giggle, bouncing on your heels, your tits jiggling. (matt has to clear his throat and look away). "thanks so much! so, um.. i'll see you around." you innocently smile as if you're not standing in front of him showing off most of your body. matt almost wishes he could stay just to keep watch of you so nobody tries anything with a sweet girl like you. "oorrr.. you can stay. only if you want!" you exclaim, biting the inside of your cheek shyly. he chuckles in response, bringing up a finger. he motions towards himself for you to come closer. you lean down, head slightly peeking in the open window.

"i'm gonna drop off chris, babe. i'll be back." he kisses your cheek with a pink face before winking and putting the car in reverse. you nod, bewildered and your mouth a little open. you step back and wave to chris whose clapping and you hear him say, "damnn, when did you grow a pair??" matt rolls his eyes and smiles at you before pulling out.

shitty ending mb :C tags! <3 (mentioning @emmastvrn bc u commented on the post hehe) @sturn777 @stargirlsturniololover @junnniiieee07 @mattsneezing @freshloveee @freshsturns @emma4eva @r6diosturns @matthasmywholeheart @donthugmeimhot @blahbel668

[wortsandall]

jason isnt even angry at bruce for the way that he died, hes mad at bruce for everything after his death. so saying that jason's anger at bruce is misdirected anger at sheila is just wrong on so many fronts. because first of all-jason was never mad at sheila. yes she sold him out to the joker and got him and herself killed and jason knows that and tried to save her anyway. i think hes aware of where the blame falls but that again leads into the second thing wrong with saying that. jason is not mad about the circumstances of his death-hes mad at the lack of change his death caused. because if bruce had died, jason would've done whatever he could to avenge that. that's a part of jason's love language. so to have bruce basically do nothing and let joker continue to hurt others grates on jason. im not even mentioning the massive victim blaming that bruce does as well. but its the aftermath that jason has a problem with not the before.

so no, jason's anger towards bruce is NOT misdirected anger at sheila. again because jason's anger has nothing to do with the circumstances around his death but everything following it. which sheila had no part in due to y'know. also being dead.

[afsosville]

Time to over-analyze things with limited canonical information just because. Here are some of the reasons why Qing Jing may have been a hindrance to Shen Jiu's emotional development and solidified his corruption arc>>

Qing Jing was like the perfect peak to let all his mental wounds fester if you think about it.

Shen Jiu acting like nobility or an educated young master (as most disciples of Qing Jing are) is purely a coping mechanism. It literally screams masking! While the exact circumstances of how he got chosen for Qing Jing is unknown, we can assume he didn't have a choice since most disciples typically just follow their new master to wherever they take them from the selection grounds (with the exception of Bai Zhan lol). He was most likely hoisted onto the Qing Jing peak lord, as no master would've wanted him because of his fucked up meridians and late age. They acquiesced to take him anyway coz of Yue Qingyuan's/the sect leader's insistance. And because it's Shen Jiu, he would naturally do whatever it took to get to the top, and if he started acting like the very sort of people he hates, then so be it.

You can imagine how disastrous imitating his abusers is going to be (he's imitating noblemen in general, but he's definitely taking the Qiu's as a primary example). Shen Jiu clearly is trying to remove and forget everything about his past, and even accepts the rumours of him being a spoiled young master to cast away suspicion. He is coping hard. Not to mention, he was named QingQIU when he became Qing Jing's succeeding disciple. Listen I don't care if it was a bad coincidence or not but that doesn't endear me to Shen Jiu's shizun in the slightest (I'm only talking abt SJ's shizun in canon, not fics, the fics are great. But it's more than likely that SJ's shizun was negligent or abusive as well. Here's why I think that). Between all of this, there's no way he's processing any of that trauma when he's constantly forced to remember all of it. No wonder he slipped into the abuser role easily since he's literally out here actually being made to copy their behavior.

Qing Jing and even the rest of Cang Qiong were always hostile to Shen Jiu, even in his discipleship. These ppl went out of their way to run interventions on Shen Jiu when he's minding his own business. Yes I'm talking abt the whole brothel thing. There were doubtlessly so many disciples who went for the very reasons Shen Jiu was assumed of going for, so why is he the only one getting shit for it? Not only was going to brothels not even a crime worthy of conviction, it was even normalized to an extent. And it would've been so easy to figure out if he really was going for anything "lecherous" by just asking the women there. The fact that, that whole ordeal was never cleared up just shows they didn't actually care about the women or what he was supposedly doing to them. They only cared because it was Shen Jiu who was involved.

Shen Jiu being on any other peak would change things for sure even if it's marginally. Its probably just wistful thinking, but I know at least half of those peaks, even the fanon ones, would be better than Qing Jing at any rate. Again, Shen Jiu would claw his way up and try to succeed any way he can, so if he were put on another peak that would be a somewhat healthy environment for him, he would do well, regardless of the peak. Him doing well on Qing Jing doesn't mean anything other than showing off his awesome(horrible and problematic) coping skills. So really, I can't help but think Qing Jing wasn't a good fit for him, especially with Shen Jiu's specific brand of trauma.

I did a pole once asking if Shen Jiu would've done better on another peak, or if they were just curious to see him anywhere else, and I'm not surprised that the most voted for peak was Yin Hui, the fanon peak for espionage and assassins. Now I'm going to go another tangent why Yin Hui would be good for him later.

[emiko-matsui]

I don't think you understand how much Beverly kissing the fae boy means to me. It's one of the most human character flaws Caldwell gave Beverly and I am kissing him on the mouth about it (no pun intended). The fact that he was in a relationship with Erlin and knew it was wrong, but still caved and kissed him... it's so good. When I was 15 years old in my first queer relationship that was something real, that was my best friend, and I valued nothing more than her and I would've also kissed that boy. I would've also known it was wrong and felt so much guilt and couldn't have stopped myself. I never got that opportunity and I am very grateful for that because I could never have imagined hurting her in that way, but when you're 15 (and maybe when you're queer, when you're seen by someone who's also not the ideal of society) all you want is to be loved. If somebody liked me like that, if somebody had shown me that interest, if somebody who was just like me had tried to kiss me. Yeah, I would've caved. I would've felt shit about it. I wouldn't have forgiven myself. I would've done it.

Today I would never cheat on a partner of mine given neither opportunity or wish. In no circumstance. But today I'm not 15 anymore. Today I just thank Caldwell for Beverly who showed something I didn't know I had been feeling at that time and showed that it did not make you a bad person. It made you 15.

[anonymityisfunwriter]

Question...? The End - “It’s just a question.”

Pairing - Steve Rogers x Reader Summary - After years of back and forth, years of unknowns, a lifetime of questions, it's time for answers.

Question...? Mini Series List | Steve Rogers Masterlist

"Looking back on it..." Steve can't quite find the words to finish the sentence. He shakes his head, "Jesus."

You slightly tip your glass, "We've been through a lot together."

He knows that you're too nice to say what the reality of it is. Steve put you through a lot.

And sure, you two have been through a lot together. All the awkward phases, the growing pains, romantic mishaps, miscommunications, circumstances.

Looking back on it, you were his constant.

Most of the time, you were his only constant.

Rather than staring at the glass in his hand, he keeps his eyes locked on you. There was so much history there. You were right, there were so many times that he could've done more, tried harder. He could've fought for you.

He swallows the lump in his throat, “I don’t know what to say.” 

You shrug, swirling the lonely ice cube in your glass, “I think that was always part of the problem. It’s why we never worked.”

“I - I’m sorry.”

And just like all those times before, you fight to tamp down those feelings that never fail to arise when Steve is near. You've come to accept this. You know this. You and Steve don't work. Accepting that is so much easier than pushing him out of your life. “It’s not like I told you how I felt.” 

Steve knew it wasn't the whole truth. Sure, you'd never out right said that you had feelings for him, but you'd given him so much more than he gave you. And every single time he was too scared of ruining everything that he ran like a coward. 

"But you were the one that held us together. You gave me so much." 

You snort, "Like your first kiss?" 

"I would've waited a hell of a lot longer if it weren't for you. I didn't kiss a single girl in high school." 

"Bullshit." 

"It's true," Steve insists, tipping his glass in your direction. "Ask Bucky. Besides, I was too hung up on you to even look at another girl." 

You shake your head, rolling your eyes, "That's not true." 

"It is. I was just - I was so damn scared of ruining our friendship." 

"Then why did you kiss me at our college graduation?" 

Steve wasn't sure. To this day, he couldn't decide it is was his ultimate moment of weakness or moment of strength. "Better question: Why do you think I broke that dickhead guy's nose last year?" 

"Male ego?" 

"I was jealous," Steve deadpans. "I was so fucking jealous. I was upset because some asshole that was nowhere near good enough took the girl I wanted my whole life. And worst part, I still wasn't brave enough to tell you how I felt."

You slowly exhale, "I think that maybe things worked out the way that they were supposed to. Maybe we just - we weren't meant to be." 

His eyebrows pull together, "Do you really believe that?" 

"I don't know."

“I just - I wish I would’ve put up a fight. I wish I would’ve told you how I felt - how I feel.”

Your eyes snap up, you heart stuttering. “Feel?”

His heart pounds in his chest. This was likely his last chance. His chance to not be a coward. A chance to finally get the girl. “Feel. Present tense.”

Your eyebrows pull in, demanding and curious, “And what do you feel?”

“I feel like I should’ve gone after you after we kissed the first time. Like I should’ve told you that the reason I got so angry you kissed Bucky in high school was because I wanted to be the only person that you kissed. Like I never should’ve left your house that night in college. I feel like I’ve been in love with you since I saw you that very first time.”

“Steve…” you whisper, too choked up to say anything but his name.

“I’ve looked for that feeling everywhere. I’ve looked for that meteor strike everywhere and the only place I’ve found it is with you. You lit up my life. Everyone else, everything else, is second best compared to you.”

“It shouldn’t be this hard, Steve.”

“Then let me carry us for a while. Let me hold us together. Let it be my turn.” He reaches out, his hand gripping yours from across that empty bar stool. He sucks in a soft breath, clearly warring with himself. In this moment, he feels like he did all those years ago. The best friend that was never good enough for the girl. The girl he watched and wanted more than anything. This was his chance to be brave for once, to finally speak now. “I think I've always known.” 

You quirk an eyebrow, “Known what?” 

“I think I’ve known it since we were kids," he continues. He stands up from his bar stool, closing the distance between you and him. He reaches out, his fingers ghosting over your cheeks. "You’re my forever. You’re my endgame. And I’m sorry I didn’t treat you like that. I’m sorry I let things come between us. But I’ve always known that. Even if it scared the shit outta me sometimes. I belong with you. You belong with me. It’s us. That’s how this story ends. It’s us.”

"Steve..." you whisper.

"Can I kiss you?" You suck in a sharp breath as he cups your face, lifting your jaw until your lips ghost over his, "It's just a question."  

You know it's not just a question. Not really. Not anymore. You lick your lips in anticipation, "Is it?" 

"No," he finally admits. "It's an answer." 

Question...? Mini Series List Inspired By Taylor Swift Steve Rogers Masterlist

Taglist: @marianita195 @meli18gonzalez @ludicbouquetfromearth @matchat3a @famousbreadcherryblossomsstuff @valoraxx @blue786sworld @buckyandgeraltsupremacy @geminigengar @ansaturn @ecolle @lexhalstead3 @ybflkmj @mediocre-daydreams@shanye1112 @thegirlnextdoorssister @toomanyfanficsbruh @moonlightreader649 @breathtaking-cynthia @mirikusashes @beans-and-toast @niyahcoca @katiechikin @elxvrr @antiheroxsblog @infamouslyclumsy @krissydclayton93 @buckysbarne @deadheadwbedhead @qualitygiantshoepsychic @whitexwolfxx310 @getosprettyboy @matchat3a @weallhaveadestiny @mostlymarvelgirl @honeydew3064 @michealharrypotter @mrs-bucky-barnes-73 @withyoutilltheendoftheline @the-photo-hoe @rae-nna @sarachabeans1@double-shot-of-tequila @spookyparadisesheep @lunaalovesyouu @daisy-loves-bucky@roseproseposts @theoraekenslover@king814318 @maybesomedaytho @carlie-babes99 @sunshinechikin @as-white-as-snow-love @melala1030 @badasswlthafatass @armystay89 @multiversefanfics @cherrysscinema @breathlesspieceofdeath @ravenn-darkholme @bxckybxrnes24 @guiltyasreid @bellabarnes1378 @blithecapricorn @mrsnikstan

[randomly--accessed--memories]

@storm-ismyusername

Okay, so, the "Vox's kids die as children AU." I came up with the image of Vox keeping his kids in a fish tank first, but upon further reflection, I've realized that it doesn't really line up with the timeline I've established.

Vox's children were 7 and 10 when he died (1957)

Vox worked under an overlord for 3 years after his death until he broke free, started his own business, and met Alastor (1960)

He and Alastor were friends for 6 years until they fell out (1966)

Vox gained official overlord status 2 years later (1968). By the time Vox had the resources for the fish tank plan, his kids would've been 18 and 21.

The only window of time where Thomas and Sarah can die and still be children is 1957-1961, so it would have to happen when Vox was still in the employ of his overlord. I actually think the idea of struggling single dad Vox is really charming, so let's go with that.

With that background, I'm not sure if Vox would feel the need to do the fish tank thing since they went a decade without anything going wrong. Maybe it exists, but Sarah and Thomas aren't confined to it 24/7. Everyone already knows they exist, so they're allowed to move around the tower as they please (they are absolutely not allowed to go outside, though).

Okay, with that out of the way, onto the responses. Gonna answer this in parts: this one is the pre-canon stuff, the next will be the canon stuff, and the third will be RAM stuff.

Ondine & Fineas where they die as kids: How does child Sarah and Thomas react to: 1-Dying 2-Going to Hell 3-Reuniting with your dead Dad (who now has a TV for a head) Would any of their Sinner features be different? Is it weird I can see Vox being more fatherly to Sarah and Thomas than he was in his human life? So when Sarah & Thomas die as kids does Vox find them before or after his big fight with Alastor? If before, what would Alastor make of the situation?  How long does Sarah and Thomas fend for themselves in Hell? A few days, a few weeks, a month, a year?  Did someone find the first? Did Vox only learn his kids were in Hell when someone was using them as blackmail against him? Did Sarah and Thomas watch as their father brutally murder their kidnapper in front of them?  Maybe another Overlord (like Carmilla, Zestial, or Rosie) found them and gave them to Vox because they felt threatening children was beneath them and drew the line at hurting kids. Wait what if Alastor found them first? What would he do with them if he did?

Okay, so Sarah and Thomas die somewhere between 1958 and 1959. They still drowned, maintaining their aquatic theming, but I'm not sure how exactly– could've been from their mother driving under the influence and crashing the car through a bridge's guardrails, could've been just regular drowning at the beach or something. Their mother survives, so they land in Hell alone (I have no idea what an 8~9 and 11~12-year-old could've done to get sent to Hell, but let's just move on).

Not sure how Vox finds them. In the main AU, they found him by recognizing his voice in an advertisement and seeking him out, but at this point, Vox is just some random nobody. Let's just assume he got extremely lucky and happened to come across them 1-30 days after they first arrived but before anyone else thought to scoop them up. Vox is horrified that they're dead and in Hell and privately swears to permakill his wife for letting this happen if he ever sees her again. He brings them back to his shitty little apartment and starts trying to figure out how the fuck he's supposed to care for children in Hell.

Despite the circumstances, Vox is actually a better father in Hell than he was on Earth. He has nothing to his name other than a shitty errand boy job, a tiny apartment, and his two small children who he thought he'd never see again. While the stress of having to provide for them is a beast, losing everything sort of forced him to get his priorities in order in regards to them. They become far more tight-knit than when they were alive as Vox is forced to spend more time with them and get creative when it comes to meeting their needs.

It's all quite the adjustment for Thomas and Sarah. Dying and trying to survive on the streets was as traumatizing as you'd expect. Reuniting with your dead dad and having to adjust to living in poverty is also a lot to take in. Every day, they're stuck in a one-room apartment with gunshots constantly going off outside and explicit instructions from their father to be as quiet as possible and not open the door for anyone– very different from the upper-middle-class suburbanite life they were used to. Eventually, their dad will come home with cheap food, they'll spend some time together, and then all curl up in their one bed and try to sleep. Wash, rinse, repeat. It's not a comfortable life, but it's definitely more intimate than how things used to be. Thomas starts letting go of some of his resentment of Vox since he can tell he's actually trying now, and Sarah's view of him as A Good Dad, Actually solidifies.

Eventually, Vox secretly kills his overlord, starts his first business, and is taken under Alastor's wing. Things become more comfortable for the three of them, and Alastor becomes something akin to a weird but fun uncle to the kids. Things are looking up for the family as Vox starts to build power and wealth. It's horrifying for the kids when Vox comes home one night without a head and swears vengeance on Alastor, but that incident only adds to Vox's upward momentum. After ten years of struggling in Hell, Thomas and Sarah (or rather, Fineas and Ondine) find themselves back in the lap of luxury as their father claims the title of the Overlord of Television.

[canisalbus]

forgive me if this has been answered previously, but what were the circumstances around vasco finding out about machete's death? i'm heartbroken but fascinated to think about what his immediate reaction could have been

They don't live together, Vasco was at home in Florence at the time. Either someone who knew of their relationship managed to alert him of the murder, or he showed up in Rome to visit him just like countless of times before, and one time he was just gone. He would've missed the funeral for sure, and since Machete doesn't have family, his belongings would most likely end up escheated and subsequently liguidated by the church. He certainly wasn't remembed fondly, for the most part it was like he had never been there in the first place.

I don't want to get into the details but of course he was devastated. The threat of death was a constant presence in Machete's later years, he survived at least a couple of assassination attempts and his health kept getting worse. I think he tried to keep Vasco in the dark about how bad things were exactly, but Vasco didn't miss how his fear of death ramped up in intensity towards the end. So it wasn't a complete surprise when he found out they had finally gotten him. For a long time he had hard time not blaming himself for it, thinking whether he could've done something to prevent the outcome, whether his presence would've changed how things played out. Over the years he learned to live with the sudden and violent end of their relationship, but the first few years were extremely rough, the whole ordeal broke him in unprecedented ways and he never fully recovered to his previous state.

[strlingsav]

Ghost finds reader’s bitch button 🥵🥰 absolutely rails them dumb

Ah yes- another excellent prompt.

Punishment

– Simon "Ghost" Riley x F!Reader

— Your Lieutenant reprimands you with unorthodox methods.

Warnings: Semi-rough sex. Explicit sexual content under the cut. Read at your own risk.

Your heel tapped rhythmically against the floor, attempting to keep yourself calm amidst the chaos that was about to ensue. Your arms were crossed over your chest, staring at the blank wall of Lieutenant Riley's office, waiting with torturous anticipation for him to arrive.

You'd been reprimanded before; it wasn't the threat of punishment that had your hands trembling, or your throat dry, it was Ghost. His refusal to see the truth to the circumstances- you were right, he was wrong. He'd never admit it, never kneel to anyone beneath him, but you were just as hard-headed. You were prepared to fight tooth and nail for what was right.

He'd left after ordering you to his office, likely meeting with Price to discuss reasonable punishment for your offence. Your jaw clenched at the thought of the two men discussing the issue at hand, without your input. No doubt, Ghost would misconstrue the truth, and hide his own mistakes behind the guise of giving you the benefit of the doubt.

The door opened; at any other time, you would've turned to meet his gaze, offer an inviting smile, but not now.

"Sergeant," Ghost's voice boomed around the corners of the office, hitting your ears like a goddamned wall. "Fucked up, this time."

He moved around you, heavy boots thudding on the ground as he took a seat in the chair across from you.

"All due respect, Lieutenant, I'm not sure you're seeing the big picture."

His eyes were dull, narrowed as you expressed defiance. You could practically outline the scowl beneath the mask when the words left your mouth.

"That so?" He hummed, nodding. "Maybe you ain't seein' the big picture," He said. He slammed his fist against the desk, which ordinarily would've spiked your blood pressure, but you'd been on edge for far too long already. "Outright insubordination," He paused, "And actin' like a fuckin' git."

You inhaled deeply, your nostrils flaring as you tried to contain your temper. Your usual tells of frustration were worse than they'd ever been; your eye twitching, lips pursed, fingers digging into your skin, your temperature rising by the second.

"That's what you think," You said, leaning forward. "Your ass would've been on the block if I hadn't stepped in."

"That's what I know- don't care about anything else."

"You aren't-"

"Shut the fuck up, Sergeant," He growled. "'M gettin' tired of babysittin' you. You need to get your shite in order."

You set your jaw again, your eyes honing in on his with a venomous glare. He must've noticed your glare, the tell-tale signs of a short fuse about to blow.

"That piss you off?" He asked, leaning both elbows on the desk.

"To be candid, Lieutenant, you are pissing me off."

"Good. I have half a mind to do your fuckin' head in."

You could hardly stand it now- the pure rage enveloping every nerve. You were burning hot, his words covering your entire body with sizzling anger. You grimaced, standing to your feet. You towered over his seated form, and his eyes followed you with frustrating nonchalance as you rose above him.

"You don't know what the fuck you're talking about. Should've left you, you ungrateful prick," You spat. "Am I dismissed, or are you not done getting off yet?"

He was quiet, almost calm- it worried you more than you'd let on. When he lost his temper, the shouting and swearing was tolerable, understandable. It was the silence that sent a wave of nausea over you, made your heart fall to your gut.

"You finished?" He asked, leaning back in his chair.

You fixed your posture, standing up straight as he eyed you down.

You nodded, curt and sharp.

"Sit down."

Your tongue ran over your teeth, a mechanism you developed to hide whatever expression was threatening to ruin your cover; in this case, a flustered frown.

"Y'saved my arse, but you went against a direct order. Can't have that, not in this line o' work."

You nodded again, staying silent as your arms guarded your chest.

His tone had turned soft, almost understanding, empathetic. The contrast threw you off- you wanted to run, escape the small room before you fell victim to the unfamiliar, muted cadence in his voice.

"I understand," You spoke up, levelling your eyes with his. You wanted to be resolute, not give into the vulnerability between you.

"Not sure you do. Not yet, at least."

You tried not to appear intrigued, interested in his train of thought. Your brow quirked up, seemingly on its own.

"Don't think a standard punishment is fittin' for you."

You were concerned now, and it was branching out to every limb; heavy and suffocating, strangling your previous agreement to remain stoic.

"What's that mean?" You asked, trying to conceal the tremble in your voice.

"Means- I think you're actin' out, feelin' frustrated, pent-up." His expression remained unchanged, watching you closely. "Think you want my attention, Sergeant. All my attention."

You felt your jaw fall slack, unsure whether he was truly suggesting what you were interpreting. Your stomach lurched at the thought of your Lieutenant showing you attention. You'd seen the defined muscles of his arms, no doubt you'd thought about how big he was, how his hands felt on your waist when he corrected your form; but you'd never imagined it would come to fruition.

"What are you suggesting, Sir?" You asked, desperately hoping your tone sounded offended rather than interested.

"Think you'd benefit from some discipline. Not a thought in that fuckin' head. Doin' just as I ask, just as y'should."

You breathed deeply, nearly choking on the saliva pooling in your mouth. The heat had drained from your outer body, targeting the susceptible organ between your thighs instead. You couldn't help but clench your thighs together, desperately aching to sate your suffering.

"I don't know what you're asking of me." A lie- one told brazenly, in front of your superior, who could see right through the innocent facade.

"You do." He leaned closer. "Don't be daft."

Your brows furrowed, "I'm not."

"You choose. Can have you on guard duty for the next month instead."

"What would you have me do?" You asked, your eyes falling to the desk in front of you.

Your chest was rising and falling quickly, given away by your forearms that lifted and fell with every breath. You were sure your eyes were watery with arousal, desire seeping through the cracks in your composure. You were quickly falling apart under his gaze, with the temptation of his offer.

"Get on your knees."

Your head shot up to his gaze, your lips parting in shock.

"I'm- I-," You stuttered, caught between the desire to comply, to obey, and the stubbornness rooted inside you.

"On your knees," He said again. "Right here." He nodded to the floor in front of him.

You thought you were too dignified to kneel before him; it was supposed to be the opposite- but a small part of you wanted it; letting go, relinquishing control for just a fraction of time.

Regardless of the anger festering in your gut, the offer was damn near irresistible. It sent shivers up your spine, a flush of heat to your groin- and the grudge you'd been building became a distant memory. You were at a crossroads, not entirely sold on the idea for many reasons, but in the moment, you wanted to please him, do whatever he asked of you in hopes he might return the favour.

You swallowed the lump of integrity trying to claw it's way up your throat, standing to your feet once more. You'd already made it around the desk, standing before him as he glanced up at you expectantly.

Your fingers trembled with hesitation, knees buckling under the weighted pressure of his order. Finally, you caved. In spite of all your adamant attempts to show your strength, your resilience, you knelt before your Lieutenant.

He leaned back further in his chair, eyeing you down.

"Think you like pissin' me off," He announced. "Hopin' I'd catch on and treat you the way y'really want."

"Sir, I-"

"Good start," He interrupted. "Keep it up and I might just reward you, Sergeant."

Your nostrils flared, desperately trying to inhale enough oxygen to fight the lightheadedness.

"Tell me what you want," You uttered.

Your confidence had been shattered; you'd been reduced to a submissive vessel to be ordered around. It made you sick- but really, you were shaking with excitement.

"I want you," He leaned in closer. "To put that smart mouth t'good use."

You were dumbfounded, unsure whether it was a test, another scenario he was running, an experiment. But as he leaned back again, shifting his thighs to accommodate you, you knew that wasn't the case.

You gulped, your hands apprehensively reaching for his belt, your eyes locked on his the entire time. You studied him for any sudden movements, treating him like a stray dog that could bite at any second. It wouldn't be unlike him, to bait you into feeling comfortable, then latch onto the most vulnerable parts of you with a glimmer of sadistic pleasure in his eyes.

He liked you on your knees, vulnerable and pliable. He didn't often see the side of you that listened, that let him have control. You fought him on every damn detail, found something to argue over. Here, he had control. You'd agreed to let him have it, of course, but it was a glimpse into the part of you he knew only he could ever have.

You undid his belt, zipper and button opening after that. You should've known better than to expect anything less than the large imprint against his briefs, a wet spot forming above the head of his cock.

He'd been thinking about you for years. At first, it was nothing more than an appreciation for your attractive appearance. Simply put, he could see past your beauty and behave in a normal manner around you. It became more difficult when he grew to know you, your stubborn attitude, brazen defiance in the face of bullshit.

He appreciated a soldier with good sense, especially one that wasn't too much of a boot-licker to speak up. He didn't appreciate the obvious insubordination, but you'd been good at falling in line before that. He could see your confidence, your ability to hold your own.

After the tipping point, he couldn't fight the fantasies in his head. He'd wonder what exactly you looked like under the Kevlar vest and layers of mud and grime. He'd wonder if you thought about him, too. Specifically, when you touched yourself, if you'd ever imagined him when you climaxed.

It drove him mad, not knowing what was going on inside your head. His suggestion came after a few instances of insubordination that created tension between the two of you. He may not have known what you were thinking, but he could see your tense disposition. The way you stared at him, your thighs clenching together when he'd call you out.

You liked being reprimanded by him. His station excited you, he excited you- and he knew it well. He would never abuse his position; he'd offered you an out, and you decided against it. With his suspicions confirmed, there was nothing stopping him from simultaneously putting you in your place and enjoying the fruition of his fantasies.

Your eyes glanced up at him quickly, a look that was laced with hesitation. He enjoyed making you squirm, work for his approval. So, he stayed silent, waiting for you to finally obey him.

You did, to his utmost satisfaction, and peeled his briefs down off his carved hips to expose his cock. He hummed quietly with gratification, watching your eyes widen at his size. He knew he was well endowed, and could hardly contain himself at the thought of you struggling to breath with his cock down your throat.

You licked your lips, an inadvertent response to the sight before you. Your eyes lifted to his, and he reached his hand out, letting it rest on your cheek with an uncharacteristically delicate touch. He guided you forward, until you were perched above his lap, your hands on his knees, waiting with your stomach churning and heart pounding.

Then, he moved his hand to grip your hair, tugging you closer to his cock, until your lips pressed against the slick head. You opened your mouth, letting his cock slide inside.

He groaned. Letting his head fall back as you took his cock deeper, hitting the back of your throat. Your body lurched with a gag, leaving him breathless when your throat closed around him.

"That's it," He grunted. "Choke on it, just like that."

Your cheeks heated up with embarrassment, saliva dripping from the corner of your lip. His eyes were glued to you, watching your eyes shut as you forced yourself to take him as deep as possible.

"Look at me," He ordered. "Let me see those pretty eyes."

Your eyes fluttered open, watery from lack of oxygen and the stimulation of your gag reflex. You kept your eyes on his as you suctioned your lips over his cock, your tongue flattening in your mouth as he slid in and out with the movements of your head.

He leaned forward, his hands wrapping around your jaw and the crown of your head as he forced you up and down on his cock. He grunted hoarsely, harsh breaths leaving his lips as he listened to the sounds of your mouth. He tapped your cheek gently with his hand, making you flinch softly.

"'At's a girl," He muttered. "You keep goin' 'til I say so."

You hummed against him, a whimper of pure arousal. You'd already felt your panties become wet, an accumulation of desire that was seeping from you the more he made orders.

"Y'look fuckin' good on your knees, sweetheart, with my cock in your mouth." He fought to speak between deep breaths.

You nodded, nearly unnoticeable, but continued moving your lips up and down his cock, your tongue massaging the places you could reach. You could feel every vein, every ridge on his cock with your tongue. The saliva in your mouth made it difficult to keep quiet, vulgar noises echoing around the small room.

You were a mess, saliva dripping down your chin, tears rolling over your cheeks. You sniffled softly, gasping for air through your nose.

He lifted your head with your hair, yanking you up. You gasped, sucking in a deep breath.

"Take off your shirt."

You pursed your lips, your brows furrowing as you sheepishly tugged your shirt over your head. His eyes followed, watching you toss it aside, moving his gaze to your breasts still hidden behind your bra.

"Bend over my desk."

You gulped- waiting for a moment, until he stood to his feet. Then, you rushed to do as he asked, letting your pelvis hit the desk.

He stood up behind you, pressing his cock into your ass. His fingers reached beneath you, undoing your pants before he yanked them down your thighs. He kicked your foot, making you stumble and spread your legs.

His hand landed on your ass, calloused palms massaging roughly.

"Been on my nerves, Sergeant," He uttered from behind you.

His hand left a harsh slap against your ass, eliciting a yelp from your swollen lips.

"Please, Lieutenant," You whispered.

You were trembling with desire, your legs hardly strong enough to continue to hold you up. You collapsed against the desk, your cheek pressed to the cool metal.

"What's that?" He asked, leaning over you.

"Please- just-"

In the midst of your sentence, his fingers trailed down your ass, before sliding inside you. It cut you off with a guttural moan, your back arching into him.

You could hear the sounds of your desperation, your pussy squelching around his fingers as he hooked them inside you.

"I was right," He said, pride lacing his tone. "You like bein' punished, don't you, sweetheart?"

You whimpered, your ass moving side to side against his groin. His other hand came down on your ass, another slap that made you flinch.

"Yes," You nodded, pushing yourself into his touch.

"This cunt's drippin'," He chided. "Couldn't deny it if you tried."

You held back a sob- overstimulated, desperate, wanting.

"Put your hands on your back."

You did as he asked, completely overcome with desire to fight against his orders anymore. Embarrassment didn't cross your mind, you were beyond aroused, reduced to pleading for him with your whimpers and whines.

"Y'listen well with my fingers in you." He asked. "Finally straighten you out, ain't that right?

You felt the head of his cock replace his fingers, teasing you as he slowly pushed inside.

"Yes please," You whispered. "Yes- yes."

He hummed with satisfaction, before burying himself completely inside you. His hand grabbed a hold of your wrists, pinning you to the desk as his cock grazed your cervix.

You were rendered speechless, your mouth open with a gasp.

He groaned, "This cunt is tight, sweetheart. Might need to stretch you out."

You shut your eyes as he rolled his hips, his pelvis meeting your ass with a force that drove you against the desk.

Your moans were high-pitched, clenching your stomach as you were rammed against the desk. Your arms ached as he held them behind your back, holding you down.

His skin slapped against yours, and he watched your ass bounce on his pelvis. His eyes were glued to the dip of your waist, watching you writhe beneath him as he thrusted into you.

His free hand slid between your thighs, and he hunched over you to massage your clit with his fingers. Your body went rigid, tense with pleasure and overstimulation. It was too much and not enough at the same time, fighting your own body to let you climax.

Despite the uncomfortable table, you could relax in his hold. You trusted him to take care of you. He was rough, seemed uncaring- but you knew better. You'd seen the way he looked at you, the way his eyes lingered. It was undeniable, the chemistry, the sexual tension you could practically taste. He'd always had your back.

His hips rolled against you, hitting your ass with a force that shoved you against the desk. Over and over, he dove deep inside you, lost in his own pleasure until you let out a grunt.

"Ghost-" You choked out.

Saliva dripped onto the table in front of you, your cheek sliding back and forth through the tears that had accumulated.

"Sweetheart," He cooed, another attempt at luring you into a false sense of security. "You close?"

You nodded, unable to form a coherent sentence beneath him. His cock dragging through your walls, his fingers still rubbing slow circles over your clit.

Your pussy fluttered, your eyes shutting and jaw clenching as your orgasm began.

Then, Ghost stopped.

You whined in protest, letting out a huff of anger and exhaustion.

He leaned over you, his lips by your ear.

"You ask to cum," He ordered. "Or you too fuckin' dumb already?"

You shook your head; compliance was the only sure way to get what you wanted- even under the haze of complete submission and arousal, you could understand the game he was playing.

He moved his hips again, his fingers returning between your thighs. You were a bit more sensitive now, having been deprived of your climax, your body twisted against him, itching for relief.

You could only pant against the desk, his chest pressed to your back, still holding your hands so far up your back your shoulders ached. You could hear his heavy breathing in your ear, the mutters of praise leaving his lips.

Every sniffle, every whimper, he chewed up and devoured- he was beyond satisfied, watching you crumble underneath him. After this, he knew he'd have you on a leash, obeying every order, every command, if only for a little while. He'd have no qualms about repeating your punishment.

"Ghost," You blurted out. "Can I cum?" You squeezed your eyes shut.

He waited a few moments before answering, leaving you teetering in the balance, forcing you to concentrate.

"Go on," He said.

You let out a long exhale, pleasure drowning out every other thought aside from his cock moving in and out of you, his heavy hand on your pussy. Your entire body was rigid, frozen beneath him while your orgasm overtook you.

"That's it," He drawled.

His thrusts were slower now that your pussy was clamped down around him, though once you'd recovered, he sped up his pace again.

Your squeals and pleas fell on deaf ears, and he rutted into you until he released himself over your ass.

You exhaled as he back away, running a rag of some sort over you to clean you up.

"Expect you'll be fuckin' tip-top next week," He said, zipping up his pants before sitting back down.

"Yes Sir," You nodded coyly.

"Not t'say I won't be seein' you before then."

His eyes stared you down, watched you closely as you tugged your shirt back over your head.

"I'll be sure to keep an eye out," You said.

He nodded; an understanding.

You slid your pants back up your thighs, giving one last look over your shoulder before slipping out through his office door.