#i swear one of these days my self control is going to snap

[im-still-watching-anime]

i am officially, FINALLY all caught up again in both the manga and the anime for bsd and OH BOY there are thoughts and opinions but also WHO CARES because my tags are finally FREE to be unfiltered

[starlightsalvatore]

hunger / damon salvatore x reader

i'm back !!! I needed to write a damon one-shot while I work on a new fic and this just tumbled right out of me lol

hunger / damon salvatore x reader

word count: 3.1k

warnings: everything??? drinking, swearing, blood sharing, oral (m and f receiving), unprotected p-in-v, a tiny bit of degradation?? this is self indulgant filth, seriously 18+ mdni

You ran a hand through your hair as you walked back and forth, unsure of what else to do with the restless energy surging through your system as you tried to fight one of your most basic, primal urges… hunger. Your fingers drummed against your thigh as you tried to focus on anything else, find something in your brain worth occupying your mind and switching course from the visuals running through your head. Your recent transition had been a shock to everyone, and Stefan had you on a tight leash to keep you in check… and you’d been on board, at first. You never wanted to cause harm, to be the reason someone else’s life ended, but with the itch in your veins threatening to undo you completely you couldn’t really find it in you to care anymore.

You heard your door push open and your head snapped up to see Damon walking in, two glasses and a bottle in his hand with an unamused expression, “if you don’t knock it off I’m going to have to replace the floor,” he said, setting everything on the dresser before pouring two generous cups of bourbon. 

“Not now, Damon,” you sighed, ignoring him entirely as your feet remained on course.

“Wanna talk about it?” he asked and you shook your head.

“Not really,” you said as he shoved a glass in your hand, his eyes telling you to drink which you did… all in one gulp and he was a little surprised as he took it to refill. 

“Well, something’s gotta give,” he replied as you finished the second as quickly as the first. “At this rate the bottle will be gone in a minute and I’m not replacing original flooring.” He gripped your shoulders, halting your movements and you huffed, looking up at him.

“I’m hungry, Damon,” you said, as if it pained you to do so and he furrowed his brow.

“The freezer is full- oh,” he cut himself off, realizing that’s not what you meant as a smirk spread across his features. “You want your blood at 98.6,” he said and you rolled your eyes, pushing him off you.

“Will you cut it out?” You poured another glass, hoping at some point the alcohol would subdue your cravings but you knew that was about as likely as him leaving you alone, so you tried another angle. “I can’t… Damon, the blood bags aren’t doing it for me, I can’t think, I can’t sleep… will you please take me out?” For a moment you thought he’d say yes, revel in the opportunity to feed with abandon with someone else, but it wasn’t that easy.

“No can do, sweetheart,” he replied and your brows pinched. “I’ve got enough on my plate without you losing control and giving me more bodies to deal with.” He was right, there was too much going on and you spinning out wasn’t an option, but that didn’t make it any easier of an answer to tolerate. He gave you a once over, it wasn’t as if he didn’t want to take you out… he would have loved to, but you were new and he knew you could eventually get to where he was, one day you’d be able to feed and leave them alive with no memory of what had happened, but that day wasn’t today, you had a long way to go and he couldn’t afford to have you slip up.

But… he couldn’t afford to have you slip up. One look told him you were wound tight, the diet Stefan had you on was restrictive, never enough to fully satisfy, and the less you drank the tighter you spun, threatening a catastrophic snap he could only assume was looming on the horizon with how frustrated you looked right now. He ran through his options, knowing letting you sit in this hunger any longer would result in a much bigger problem, but the only thing he could think of posed another set of issues and would lead to him teetering on the edge instead of you.

He let out a sigh, closing the distance between you and plucking the glass from your hands to discard on the dresser and you looked up at him questioningly, the invasion of space catching you by surprise. His normally bright eyes were dark and swimming with something you couldn’t understand, deep blue pools you found yourself getting lost in as you waited for him to say something. “You need to feed,” he said and your eyes fluttered shut just at the thought.

“I need to feed,” you whispered and he nodded, catching your chin between his fingers and forcing your head back up when you tried to look down and the action had your breath catching somewhere in your throat. 

“You still haven’t felt it, have you?” he asked, voice low and you shuddered. “What it’s like to sink your teeth into something…” you shook your head, Stefan hadn’t allowed you to drink anything that didn’t come from a cup. “Poor thing,” he chuckled, he could feel the tension radiating off you in waves, you were practically shaking beneath him as you fought to retain your grip on your sanity, on your control.

“Damon,” you sighed, eyes pleading and he just smiled as he gripped your hand and brought it up to his neck, the pulse beneath your fingers driving you wild. 

“When you feed you have to be careful… if you bite just along here,” he said, dragging your fingers along the vein, “you can control the flow. It doesn’t have to be messy,” he explained and you couldn’t tear your eyes away from the subtle way his skin moved with each beat of his heart, the sight bringing the veins beneath your eyes to the surface, your fangs descending.

“Don’t fight it,” he said, noticing you trying to rein it in, and you were having a hard time focusing on anything with the way his hands were trailing up your arms, pulling you closer. “Go on,” he tilted his head just slightly, “give it a try.” he encouraged and this pulled your focus, eyes snapping to his as you tried to ascertain if he was being serious. You had a lot left to learn, but blood sharing was personal, and you knew that… but all you saw in those dark blue eyes was a fire simmering beneath the surface you were sure was a mirror image of your own.

You slowly reached onto your tiptoes, as if he were a deer in the woods threatening to startle and bolt, but the closer you got the harder it was to resist, anticipation burning through your veins at the prospect of giving in. Your fangs were tentative as they broke the skin just where he’d indicated, but the first drop of blood immediately made you feel dizzy and intoxicated… It wasn't enough. You quickly grew feverish, your hand wrapping around his throat as you surged forward, crashing into the wall behind you and he let out a grunt as his back collided with the hard surface, pinned in place as you fed.

“There you go… that’s it,” he said, leaning back as he relaxed and let you take what you needed. His arm snaked around your waist while a hand brushed the hair from your face, cradling the back of your head as warm blood radiated through your body. A soft groan fell from his lips as you drank from him, and the sound elicited an unexpected reaction from you, your hand tightening around his throat and your body pushing flush against his and despite everything in you telling you to continue, you forced yourself back knowing if you didn’t stop you’d bleed him dry. 

Your eyes were wild and satisfied as they met his, and he dragged his thumb across your bottom lip, collecting the remnants and you were almost surprised when your lips wrapped around him, ensuring you didn’t waste a single drop. His smirk returned when he felt your tongue slide across his skin, “better?” he asked and you nodded, keeping him in your mouth for maybe a second longer than you needed to. The air was charged between you, you’d just crossed a line in the sand and you wanted to push a little further, go a little farther… 

Part of him knew he should put an end to this… stop before it went any further. He knew it before he’d even offered up a vein for you, he knew as soon as he did he’d be teetering on this ledge and he didn’t have that much self control when it came to you. Perhaps, if he really analyzed the situation, he knew somewhere in the back of his mind why you’d been so worked up, he knew what you needed and instead of letting you wreak havoc on the blood cooler he let you push him against a wall and take what you wanted, he let you feed from him in the most intimate way he could think of. 

And when you were looking up at him like that, eyes mischievous and holding an unspoken challenge with his blood still on your plump lips, who was he to resist? Your chest was heaving with anticipation as you waited for him to do something, anything, and the movement was so fast you almost didn’t register his hand curling around your throat, flipping you around and slamming you against the wall with such force you were sure you’d be dead if you were human. Your gasp of surprise was swallowed by his mouth on yours, searing and frenzied as he connected your lips and kissed you with a hunger that rivaled your own only moments ago. 

You both fought for dominance, neither one of you willing to submit just yet but you were outmatched… he grabbed your wandering hands and pinned them above your head, grip so tight you whined as he kissed down your neck, biting into you the same way you’d done with him and you couldn’t help the moan that fell from your lips as he did. Your hips rolled forward and feeling his hardening length against you gave you the surge of confidence you needed to break your hands free, sliding down his chest to pull his shirt apart, buttons flying and clattering against the floor as you pushed the fabric over his shoulders. 

His lips were greedy across the expanse of your chest as he nipped and sucked the soft skin, tearing your shirt to shreds as he pulled it from you, a mess of fabric in your wake as you surged forward and pushed him into the wall opposite you, regaining your upper hand. Glass shattered on the floor around you as the force rattled the dresser but you couldn’t find it in you to care what had broken as your hands pulled his belt free, fingers quickly undoing the button as you sank to the floor and pulled his jeans with you.

His length stood erect in front of you and you were quick to take him in your mouth, focusing your tongue on his swollen tip as your hand worked what didn’t fit, and you couldn’t help but moan around him at the groan that fell from his lips, “such a good girl,” he cooed, his sweet words undercut by the harsh hand in your hair gripping and pulling you closer, forcing you to gag around him and the sensation had his head falling back against the wall. Tears sprung to your eyes at the sharp pain in your scalp and the way he was hitting the back of your throat, but all you could focus on was the throbbing between your thighs and he didn’t miss the way you clenched them together, desperate for friction. 

You were quickly on your back, too caught up in the moment to bother moving to the bed and you pushed glass aside as he settled between your legs, tearing your underwear off and diving in like a man starved and you could feel his smirk against you at your surprised moan, head hitting the floor as your back arched in pleasure. He switched between your clit and your entrance, not giving either attention long enough to give you what you really needed, and you whined as your fingers threaded through his hair, tugging harshly.

“Damon, please,” you sighed, hips bucking against his face and he focused his attention on your sensitive bundle of nerves, tongue expertly working you up as you shamelessly moaned his name. Somewhere in the back of your mind you knew with the way you kept slamming each other against walls and the floor, the breaking glass, and the sounds falling from both your lips someone might come to make sure you were alright, but you couldn’t find it in you to care… not when he felt as good as he did between your legs. 

Your moan changed in pitch when he slid two fingers into your entrance and it went straight to his cock, his head swimming as he watched you come close to falling apart above him. When he crooked his fingers just so your grip in his hair tightened, pulling him closer as you started to grind against him, “fuck, just like-” you were cut off by your own moan when he started massaging that spot inside you, legs trembling as you careened off the ledge. His touches remained merciless as pure euphoria surged through your veins, your head cloudy as your body trembled. 

“So fucking beautiful,” he muttered against you, kissing his way up your body and you tugged him closer to reconnect your lips, tongues swirling against each other as you tasted yourself on him. His hands felt greedy and possessive as they roamed over you, gripping tight enough to leave bruises that would heal before they even had a chance to form, and it was as if neither of you could get enough. You pushed forward, tugging him up with you and all but throwing him onto the bed and his smirk was devilish as he watched you crawl on top of him.

He looked like he was about to say something but you didn’t give him the opportunity as you kissed him, rough and demanding as your hips settled above his, hand reaching between you to line him up at your entrance and you both let out groans as you took him inch by inch. The stretch was sweet, filling you almost to your breaking point as you settled fully and started to roll your hips against him, shuddering at the feeling.

“Fuck,” he moaned as you started to bounce up and down, setting an unforgiving pace and you felt like you could feel him everywhere, every nerve ending radiating with fire. He sat up to wrap his arms around you, hips bucking to meet yours in a way that had your head rolling back and he took the opportunity to sink his teeth into your neck and you had never felt pleasure like this before. His hand was firm around your throat as your body shook with each thrust and soon you were boneless in his lap, only able to hold yourself upright as he drank you in. 

When he pulled back you licked along his lips, face changing at the taste of blood and he swore he’d never seen anything sexier. Neither of you was going to last much longer, not like this, and he delivered a rough smack to your ass that had you whining and rolling against him. “Oh my god,” you breathed out, letting your forehead fall against his and he smacked again, gripping the tender skin, “Damon-” you tried, but nothing would come out.

“What’s that, sweetheart?” he teased, gripping your hair and pulling you back to look at him, “oh, look at you… all cock drunk and fucked out,” he teased and you had nothing to say as a firm thrust had you seeing stars. You buried your face in his neck, fangs sinking into his skin as you felt your release barreling towards you, the mixture of blood and his steady thrusts too much to bear and a streak of red trailed down your body as you came, only able to shout his name as you cried out.

Your grip on him was maddening, pulling him right over the edge with you as you milked him for everything he had, and when you both slowed to a stop you were having a hard time catching your breath, your mind floating somewhere above you as you tried to return to your body. You felt his tongue along your chest, cleaning up your mess as you leaned back and he tried to commit the sight to memory… your hair wild, cheeks flushed, and skin dewy as blood lingered along your skin. 

You still weren’t fully with him, stuck in a haze as you felt him whisk you into his bedroom, and into the bathroom and it wasn’t until you were under the stream of water with him that you hummed contently against his lips as he kissed you softly, “there she is,” he chuckled.

His hands were delicate as they roamed you, and yours slid down the front of his chest as you looked up at him, doe eyed and happy. “That was…” you trailed off, unsure of what word to use to fully sum it up and he placed another soft kiss on your lips.

“Everything you ever dreamed of?” he provided and you laughed as you swatted his chest. 

“Hush,” you replied, feigning annoyance but you didn’t have it in you to feel anything other than bliss. The rest of your shower was spent with wandering hands and sweet kisses, a stark contrast to how rough and domineering you’d been with each other and when he pulled you into bed and wrapped himself around you, you looked up at him as your fingers trailed along his chest absentmindedly.

“What are you thinking about?” he asked, and you flushed slightly under his gaze.

“It was more than I dreamed of,” you answered, and he raised a brow in question. “I haven’t… I hadn’t done that since turning, I didn’t know it could be like that,” you explained and realization passed over his features.

“My god,” he chuckled, “no wonder you were wound so tight.” His hand on your back was comfortable, holding you tight against him as he rubbed soothingly, “we’ll go on a little trip this weekend,” he said as you rested your head on his chest.

“A trip?” 

You felt him nod, “away from all the chaos here… we’ll find you some warm bodies and I’ll teach you how to do it the right way, you don’t have to live a life of blood bags forever.” 

“I don’t know, you seemed to do the trick,” you teased and he laughed.

“Sweetheart, you have no idea what you’re missing.” 

[redr0sewrites]

Can you write Vox x reader where like the reader just says like really unhinged things and just like vile things whenever they rage and stuff like the internet could be slow or smth and the reader is just like “IM GOING TO RIP OFF MY SKIN” idk man I’m kinda just self projecting rn like you can right anything with it tbh idk sorry for rambling anyway you don’t have to do this if you don’t wanna

THIS IS SO MEEEEE I LOVE THIS IDEA SM!!! sorry it took me a hot minute to reply to this i have over 70 hazbin hotel requests in my inbox 😭

🥀Cw: fluff, crack, silly vox

when he first met you, vox was charmed by your seemingly sweet nature- that is, until you were pissed

your unholy screech of how you were going to rip off your skin if he cut the wifi again was both endearing and confusing in his eyes

vox would just short circuit for a second, just blinking at you while he tries to process what you just said

once it clicks, he just starts giggling. vox very rarely genuinely laughs, most of his laughs are professional or part of the persona he adopts as the leader of vox enterprises, but when he's so shocked by what you just said, he can't control the booming laughter thay fills the room

he's wheezing and gasping, each barking laugh only pissing you off more

"what's so funny? if you keep laughing i am going to fucking break ur fingers like carrot sticks!" you snap, and vox only giggles harder

after a few seconds, you can't help but notice how adorable his laughter is, and soon you don't mind it as much

once you two are officially together, you notice how stressed vox often is, yet how he seems to visibly relax around you

the batshit crazy things you say, which normally disgusts other people, only seem to amuse him

its actually a wonderful dynamic because you bring some spontaneity and slight insanity into vox's otherwise irritating and depressing lifestyle, and vox balances out the crazy things you say and calms you down every time

you often find yourself searching for new phrases to baffle him with, and for new ways to make him laugh

after vox has a stressful day, he enjoys just listening to you ramble about the most insane things and adores hearing whatever fucked up saying you've adopted recently

vox notices himself beginning to copy your speech patterns. he only begins to realize when he slips in an exceptionally odd metaphor into a work meeting and everyone stares at him, yet his heart skips a beat at the thought

there's something so charming to him about the fact that he's adopting your mannerisms, and you truly make him laugh when no one else can

whenever another one of the vees pisses him off, he always comes to you for advice on incredibly deranged comebacks, and you never disappoint!

he's won multiple arguments by just repeating one of your fucked up sayings and the other vees being too lowkey shocked to disagree

vox LOVES IT when you diss people he hates, hearing you ramble some fucked up insults about alastor made him fall in love with you all over again

"that worm on a string fucked up karen cut bob looking ass- if i see him around here again im going to eat a fucking brick" *cue vox looking at you with the biggest heart eyes*

overall, you are both menaces, but you're menaces in love ♥️

vox lay with his head in your lap, the blue light of his screen illuminating the dim room as you rambled mindlessly about your day.

"and THEN, this fucking asshole tried to flirt with me! ME!! as if he doesn't know were dating! ugh, it makes me feel like i have an entire beehive living beneath my skin. i swear if he even looks at me again im going to lick wet cement i can NOT deal. how can you even work with him? he's such a fucking CREEP voxy, i'm going to cut off those ugly ass wings and shove them so far down his throat- hey, are you even listening?"

you look down to see vox half asleep, his eyelids drooping as his light dimmed. "keep talking.." he murmurs, looking up at you with a lazy smile on his face. "you're my favorite person t' listen to.."

i love the idea of vox with a partner who challenges his very idea of power. he clearly wraps himself in a sort of persona, surrounding himself with powerful people and acting like he's so serious and important. i love the idea of him falling in love with someone who can break down his walls in seconds, someone who can dismantle his entire bravado act and who allows him to truly be himself. this is such a wonderful prompt and i am eating this up. nonnie ur awesome!!!!

[sturnstars5]

i love you, i’m sorry-matt sturniolo

you and matt swore you were done, but are you?

warnings: fluff, swearing, happy ending

*there is a flashback in the story it’s in blue!*

empty. emptiness was what you felt. it had been two weeks since you left the love of your life, matt. you try to tell yourself, “well, it was his fault” or “i’ll be better off without him, it’ll just take time”, but nothing worked. you missed him.

you sat on your couch, something you had been doing more than usual lately, and stared outside through the window. you couldn’t bring yourself to do anything other than overthink. you would replay the moments of you and matt’s breakup argument in your mind, like it was a movie on loop 24/7. and just when you would feel a sliver of joy, the movie would start again, leaving you to drown in self pity.

it was getting late, so you picked yourself up off of the couch and laid down in bed, staring at the ceiling. sleep wasn’t exactly on your side.

it was about 1:30 am, and you were still awake when you heard your front door creak open.

what the fuck?

you sat straight up and froze, paralyzed in fear, not knowing what to to next. normally, matt would take control and go see what was happening, but he wasn’t there. he was gone.

you hear the persons foot steps get louder and louder until you hear them stop right in front of your bedroom door.

the door opened slowly, revealing a puffy eyed, sad looking matt.

he looked awful to say the least, he looked like he hadn’t eaten in days. his face was all swollen, his eyes bloodshot with dark bags under them. his face was glistening with tears, and his nose was runny.

“matt,” you say.

“i know, i should’ve called, im sorry.”

“you almost gave me a heart attack! do you know what time it is?”

“yes, i know, okay? i said im sorry.”

“why are you here matt, i thought we were over.”

“i know that’s what we said, but i cant stop thinking about you, about us.”

“matt,”

“i know, y/n, i know what i did was wrong. going to that party was a whole wrong decision in itself. but i still love you, y/n.”

“but matt, you pinky swore you wouldn’t cheat, and you broke it! how am i supposed to trust you now?”

“i don’t know, i just hope you can find it in your heart to give me one more chance.”

you think back to the night you found out about the party…

1:00 am, 2:15 am, 3:40 am, matt still wasn’t home. he said he was filming with his brothers, and you believed him. you called him, and he didn’t answer,m. you then called nick and chris, and they didn’t answer either. you give up, just telling yourself that their phones died, and you go scroll on instagram in your bed. nick posted a picture of himself and chris at a party.

where was matt?

you look harder, only to see matt’s lips pressed against another girl. her hands threading through his soft brown hair. matt was yours, so why was he with her?

matt arrived home, drunk, stumbling lazily into your shared bedroom.

“hey baby.” he says with a smirk.

“don’t call me that, matthew.”

“what the fuck is your deal, y/n?”

“this!” you say, throwing your phone in his face. you’re zoomed in on him and the other girl, matt looking at the photo. even his drunken state cant cover up the guilt and regret in his mind.

“who’s that?” he says, lying.

“that’s you, matt! who else would it be? you know what you did matt, and i know too. i’m not as dumb as you think i am.”

“it was just one kiss, so what? it was a party, and we were needy and drunk.”

“have you lost your fucking mind, matt?

“no i haven’t, but clearly you have, bitch!”

“i’m not gonna be talked to like this by my own boyfriend, so get out.”

“what?”

“i said, get. out. matt. we’re done.”

“come on, don’t you think you’re being overdramatic?”

“get out! now!”

“y/n?” you hear matt say softly.

you snap out of your memory, taking a second to focus back on reality.

“listen, y/n, i’m not asking for you to let your guard down again and take me back, i just guess i want you to know that i love you, and that im sorry.”

matt stares at you, his face full of desperation and vulnerability, and most of all, regret. a single tear rolls down his face, dropping on the floor as it falls off.

“do you promise to be loyal, matt?”

“yes, of course i do. i wont screw it up this time.”

“i’m serious matt, i cant take that again. i cant go through that again.”

“i promise.”

“okay then.”

“so, what now?” matt asks.

“do you wanna, maybe try again?” you ask softly.

“yes. i swear i wont fuck it all up this time.” matt replies.

you and matt hug, and for the first time in a while, you feel genuinely happy and loved.

“i love you, y/n.”

“i love you too matt.”

kind of a rushed fic but wtv!!

[thewritingofamadwoman]

To Forgive or Not To Forgive, That Is The Question

Part two of “Should I Stay or Should I go”

Pairing: Mark Sloan x Fem!OC

Warnings: some fluff, some angst, Mark being his usual handsome self.

Thank you for reading & Enjoy!

It had been exactly one month since Mark Sloan officially started working at Seattle Grace and honestly it has been the worst few weeks of my entire existence. My head and heart were all over the place, at war with each other whenever I saw, thought of, spoke to, or worked with Mark.

The more logical, realistic side of me was angry and hurt, betrayed that I had no choice but to work side by side on some cases with the man who had left both my daughter and I when we needed him the most. The emotional, more physical side of my brain couldn’t stop from preening whenever Mark complimented me or flirted with me. He once placed a hand on my waist to squeeze by from behind me I could swear that the entire hallway heard the how loud my fucking heart was beating.

I tried my hardest to be the bitch I needed to be to deter him. I would glare and roll my eyes, snap back and avoid Mark at all costs. But of course, somehow the largest hospital in Seattle had become smaller than your average kindergarten classroom. I couldn’t avoid Mark Sloan no matter how hard I tried.

I was currently standing at a nurses station, flipping through a chart while Callie stood next to me, signing a few papers. Cristina Yang was crunching on chips in front of us when she let out a low whistle. Callie and I turned our attention to her when she nodded her head towards the end of the hall. There Mark stood as he chatted with Derek, in scrubs and a lab coat. The men were whispering about something, and Mark let out a laugh, throwing his head back. Callie let out a breathy laugh of her own.

“Damn he’s hot,” she said, and Cristina hummed in response. I rolled my eyes but couldn’t take my eyes from Mark’s silhouette. They weren’t wrong, Mark was hot. So very fucking hot. But…he fucked up. And I couldn’t forgive him. I shouldn’t forgive him. Right?

“He’s alright, I guess. But he’s an ass,” I said nonchalantly and forced my eyes back to the chart in front of me.

Cristina snorted and continued to munch on her chips.

“Sure, but that’s a fine ass he has,” she chuckled and Callie laughed along with her, agreeing. I looked up to shush them but my eyes connected with Mark’s from across the hall and I stuttered. Make gave me his signature smile, eyes gentle, before turning back to Derek. Callie and Cristina turned around to stop themselves from giggling. Controlling my blush I closed my patients folder and slapped Callie’s arm with that same folder.

“You two are horrible. Just horrible,” I mumbled at them before I walked away.

——

The day continued and Mark always seemed to be in my peripheral vision. Everywhere I went, he was there. Whether he was with a patient or chatting with one of our coworkers, Mark Sloan was never more than 40 steps away from me at any given moment.

I reached my breaking point before lunch.

“Oh for fucks sake,” I muttered to myself when I saw Mark chatting with Alex Karev, MY intern for the month. I marched to both men and cleared my throat.

“Mark, can I speak to you for a second?” I bit out, doing my best to remain civil.

“Uh yeah, sure. Of course. Karev, I’ll see you later,” Mark nodded at Alex before turning to me, a friendly smile on his face.

“Mark, what are you doing?” I sighed, tired of all the emotional whiplash. Mark looked at me, seemingly genuinely confused.

“What do you mean? Karev? I was just chatting with him-“

“No,” I cut him off. “What are you doing here, in Seattle? At this hospital? You’re one of the best plastic surgeons in the country and you had to come to the one hospital I work at?”

Mark gave me a small, sheepish smile.

“In my defense, this is the number one trauma center in the west cost and Richard Webber really did give me an offer I couldn’t refuse. But the main reason? You know the main reason, Lise. I came to apologize. What I did was wrong. So fucking wrong,” Mark sighed, and the use of a nickname I hadn’t heard in a long time did not go unnoticed by me. I let him continue.

“I will spend the rest of my life trying to make it up to you and to our baby girl. I was young and dumb and I know that those aren’t excuses, but you have to believe me when I say that I want nothing more in this world right now than to be with you and to finally meet my daughter.” Mark’s eyes pleaded with mine and I could see the sincerity within them.

But I couldn’t bring myself to forgive him right away.

“Mark, you broke me. I was ready to start a family with you. And you just ripped my heart out and stomped on it. I…I’m not sure I can just forgive you like that,” I said, my heart clenching at the thought of us being a family again. I didn’t notice the hot tear sliding down my face until Mark’s hands cupped both of my cheeks, his thumb brushing the stray tear away.

“I’m sorry Lise. I’m so sorry baby. I will spend the rest of my entire fucking existence trying to earn your trust back, if you’ll let me. I want to do right by you and our baby girl. I know what I’m signing up for here. And I’m willing. Please, just let me try to prove myself to you. I want to be the one who makes you happy again,” Mark pleaded, his own eyes watering with desperation. I reached up and grabbed both of his wrists in my hands before staring into those beautiful blue eyes of his.

After what felt like an eternity, I nodded.

“You get ONE chance. This is it, Mark. You fuck this up and we are DONE for good. You don’t get to talk to me or see our daughter. You disappear from the fucking face of the earth and leave us alone. Do you hear me?” I said. Last time, I let logic and reasoning rule my heartbreak. This time I was willing to let emotion take over. I was still raw from the heartbreak but I guess I loved Mark Sloan more than I was willing to admit.

Mark’s eyes widened and he smiled, squeezing my face in his hands just a touch and leaning forward to place a gentle kiss on my forehead. I closed my eyes at the sensation, opening them back up once Mark had pulled away.

“You won’t be disappointed baby, I promise.”

Part Three…? ;)

Tag List (thanks for reading):

@caseyandsloan @xjasam4lifex @spookyboogyuniverse

[lilacskyly]

Honored Ones: Yandere Satoru Gojo x Reader

(This might be bad idk :,> not that proud of it)

Throughout Heaven and the Earth, he  is the honored one. 

Then what does that make you?

“Oh goddess~ You aren’t hiding from me, are you?” you heard Satoru Gojo coo as his steps echoed throughout the abandoned building. You covered your mouth, trying your best to cover your shaky breath. “You can’t hide from me forever~ You know we’re bound… right goddess?” You heard him laugh and then a chain rattled. You froze, staring at your wrist to see the spirit bind chain that was shackled to your wrist. “Stop fighting me. You already know I can sense you… right?” he questioned. Tears fell out of your eyes just as Gojo teleported in front of you. “Found you~”

You jumped before he covered your mouth. He put a finger to his lips, “Sssshhh my dear…. Ssshh… I’m here… those special grade curses are gone… there’s no need to cry!” He smiled for you before planting a small kiss on your forehead. If you didn’t know better, he would’ve just been his normal self. But, after you saw him kill those curses and some of his fellow jujutsu sorcerers for ‘getting in the way’, you knew you couldn’t trust his smile.

“S-satoru…”

His smile only grew upon hearing his name come from your lips. God.. those perfect lips of yours. He was practically salivating.

He snapped himself out of his thoughts. “Yes my goddess?”

“W-where are the others?” you asked.

“The others? Oh… you mean the pests. They're gone now. They can't bother us now~” he whispered in your ear. “You cryin’? It's okay my goddess… you're safe now.” 

He took your hand in his and lifted you off the ground. Despite your fear of him, you hugged him and started crying even more. He engulfed you in a hug as well. “Never do that again.” he said, getting scarily serious for once.

“I-I won’t! I swear I won’t!” you cried. He knew better than to take your word for that.

He sighed, “Let’s go home goddess. You’ve had a long day..”

You couldn’t track how long it took you to get to his place. Time always seemed to mush together when you were with him. You couldn’t tell if that was a good thing or not. Gojo locked the door behind you two when you entered his place. He collapsed on the sofa, pulling on the spirit bind chain to get you to come over. 

“Y’know goddess, I never imagined being this close to you…” he started. “After all, you’re barely a jujutsu sorcerer my dear… it’s a miracle we even met.”

“... y-yeah… I-I’m sorry, I’m really weak..” you said, looking down at his hands. 

He shook his head. “Stop lying to yourself. You may not be as strong as you want… but soon enough you will be.”

“H-how?”

“I’ve been hinting at a surprise haven’t I? I think it’s about time I finally reveal it.” he smiled softly at you.

You tilted your head, confusion spread across your face. “W-what do you mean?”

“You’re almost entirely mine, my precious goddess~ Did you figure out what I’ve been doing yet?” he asked innocently. 

Wait. He didn’t.. He fucking wouldn’t.

He smiled after seeing your expression. “You’ve figured it haven’t you? You’re so smart my goddess! I’ve been putting drops of my blood into your food I’ve prepared for you… and you know how your cursed technique works.. Right?”

Of course you did! You weren’t stupid.. Were you?

“Your cursed technique isn’t very practical… at least for you. You have to quite literally consume a part of a person to gain their strength. But but but! If you ingest too much, your life becomes officially theirs to control. It’s funny really.. You get stronger but you become less and less you the more you do so!”

“G-gojo… w-what..?”

“Look my goddess… I know someone as holy as you could never be mine… so, I’m taking fate into my own hands. We will be together now, forever. No matter what you do, you won’t be able to die as long as I’m alive. You can’t even escape me in death. We’re bound, remember goddess? You’ve sealed your fate the very moment you agreed to this.” He grabbed your wrist, showing the spirit bind you two established. You both had to ingest some of each other's blood to even establish it. You just wanted to be stronger… to be protected by someone…

You should’ve died to those curses in that building earlier.

Before you knew it, Gojo tore at his wrist till it bled heavily. He held it up for you to drink his blood. He chuckled as you looked at him in horror. “H-how… how long have you..”

“Oh, since we made the pact. I’ve had my sight on you for quite a while my dear.” he said nonchalantly. “Now, drink up. Haven’t got all night.”

You shook your head causing him to laugh loudly. “Seriously? You’re still being stubborn? You really don’t get it dear… you’re mine.” His blue eyes pierced your own, seeming to tear into your brain. “Now, drink.”

Your body moved without you as you downed his blood. The taste was repulsive, you hated doing this. Gojo however seemed to be enjoying it as he petted your hair muttering ‘good girl’ every now and again. He pushed you away after some time. “Now now dear, we don’t want to suck me completely dry, do we?” he teased.

“Mhm…” was all you managed to say.

“Y’know… the pact is fully made now, right? Ha! How funny! I can literally control you now!” he laughed lightly. “We can claim this world as ours… and ours alone. After all, we’re gods… together we are the honored one…”

He pulled on the now fully materialized chain around both your wrists and hummed cheerfully. 

“Let’s go have some fun, shall we?” 

[haravath0t]

𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐢 𝐬𝐨𝐡𝐦𝐚: 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐨𝐮𝐜𝐡

to me there is nothing better than someone going against the very things they swear they go by for the sake of their deepest, purest desires. the very notion of surrender from someone so strict and stubborn is just so appealing.

hatori sohma is literally the best example of this, in my opinion. 

the doctor of the sohma family, who was known to be very aloof, to be stiff, to be cold after akito had denied him of a relationship the one time he had ached to have something for himself. it was clear to everyone, even akito, how much you meant to that man. 

During the time you dated him, you weren't able to touch him. Even the thought of kissing you left him nervous with the chance of him transforming. With this, dating Hatori had lacked physicality. It's not a dealbreaker, but it's certainly a little proverbial "speed bump" that you two faced.

It broke his heart, having to repress your memories, to take away the beautiful memories you had taken part in creating with him. He genuinely had thought he would never be able to see you again. However, even Akito cannot control the thing called fate. 

The two of you had met up again within the Sohma estate, Hatori unable to refrain himself from being in your life, even if it was just as a friend. Even if he still couldn’t stop yearning for you, longing for the way your hands cup his cheeks once again. 

Of course, your clumsy self once again found out about his secret, unable to stay away (or stand upright). Just as last time, you had freaked out and put him in the nearest body of water there was as his seahorse form flailed helplessly. It honestly felt like Hatori was reliving this time with you again, a blissful torture. 

Once again, just like the first time, it was you who had confessed how strongly you still felt. Even in the way the story went now that your memories were repressed, you still managed to fall for him again. In your eyes, Hatori was just that standard. However, Hatori was not so naive as last time, making sure he treated this with extra caution. 

He wanted to hug you, to show you how much he has longed for you. Even if you were oblivious to the extent that he did. 

“Can I hold you?” He asked, his voice choking. Of course, you respond with wide eyes, the familiar speed bump once again making a presence back in your lives. How could you refuse? How could you remind him of the caveats of holding one another when he looked so fragile? So unlike himself? 

Of course, you relent. The doctor cups the back of your head, his fingers gently tangled in your hair while his other arm wraps around your waist. He held you like it was the last time, counting the seconds as precisely as he can before he poofs into smoke and transforms. Except this time, he stands absolutely still, remaining in this embrace with you.  

The curse breaking only makes him realize how touch starved he actually is.

This is the moment Hatori breaks, sobbing into your hair as he feels that thread between God and Dragon snap and sever. 

You cry with him, of course, holding him tighter as the two of you cry in relief, in joy, in sadness. Now was not the time to be so logical, so uptight. Now was not the time to pretend that you both were content with that distance. 

It feels childish, stupid, weak, but it's not even the fact that he can kiss you now or make love to you now that gets him going.

It's the fact that now he sees the way you love at its full capacity, and the way he can reciprocate without fear. 

Hatori enjoys the way you hug his arm, or the way you'll gladly lay on his lap while he reads Shigure's latest trash (though you argue that he has found a new guilty pleasure) or how you naturally enjoy tangling your legs with his own as you two sleep.

He just isn’t the type to not touch you in any way, shape, or form at this point. Not when he has spent so many nights and days wondering what it felt like. 

Hatori Sohma had been known to be a mere spectator, an example of what not to do when it came to relationships. He had to be forced into obedience, to be that voice of reason for those who also ached for love. Who would have thought that now he was able to wake up next to you, his hand able to caress and adore you? Who would have thought he can press his lips to your ear while your bodies remain flush against one another under the blankets? 

Who would have thought Hatori Sohma himself loves physical contact?

You may not remember how you have loved him before, but Hatori finds this to be a great reward: a lifetime of happiness, experienced for the second time.

[eddiessluttywaist]

desiderium

an eddie munson series

AGELESS/BLANK/UNDER 18 BLOGS ARE NOT WELCOME TO INTERACT. PLEASE RESPECT MY RULES AND BOUNDARIES.

summary: eddie’s odd, forgotten childhood friend seeks him out when he needs her more than he realizes.

pairing: bsf!mechanic!bartender!eddie x eccentric!bsf!fem!reader

word count: 6,118 words

content/warnings: eventual smut so MDNI, angst, fluff, swearing, loneliness, family issues, feeling unwanted, mentions of bullying, low self esteem, anxiety, mentions of inappropriate and abusive relationships from reader’s past (nothing detailed), mentions of relationships with an inappropriate age gap (adult men dating reader when she was still a teenager—nothing detailed), brief mentions of imprisonment, crying. i think that’s it!

a/n: sorry to say not all updates will be this quick 🫠 this is only ready now because i had already written a good chunk of it when i wrote part one. creds to whoever owns and posted those ^ photos! they’re not mine, i just made the collage!

part 1 - part 2 - part 3 - part 4 - part 5

*

“How’d it go?” Martha pulled herself up to get a better look at you, hands on the inner edge of the service desk.

She probably thought with how much time had passed, that things went well. That you spent time with Eddie while he worked, talking when he wasn’t too focused on something else. Maybe you went out to eat and caught up—surely that was why you were returning now when you had left to see him around late morning. It definitely wasn’t because you drove off after he snapped at you and didn’t even give you a chance to defend yourself. A prank? Why would it have been a prank?

It certainly hadn’t been so long because you couldn’t stand the idea of facing her with tears in your eyes and a waver to your voice. Surely, you hadn’t been crying and chastising yourself in your car in some random parking lot until you felt you could be seen in the outside world again. There was no way you were showing up now because when you were on your way to get more greasy food, your car sputtered to a halt because you’re an idiot who had the engine running the entire time you were in that parking lot.

She imagined your afternoon spent with Eddie—not a few strangers who helped you push your car to the nearest gas station (which was thankfully rather close, your only bout of luck thus far). You didn’t need to stop to cry a second time in one day (this time with the car off) just so you could get it out of your system before going into the market on your way back. And by that point it wasn’t even about Eddie. Okay, maybe a little bit, but mostly just because you were so overwhelmed by how everything was going wrong.

She was sure during all that time that you had successfully reunited with your long lost friend. But then as you trudged over, you pointed to your temple.

“Always better up here, right?” you murmured, voice tired and your eyes still somewhat raw.

“Oh, dear…,” she sighed, reaching to pat your hands that were now settled on the ledge where guests were greeted.

“I don’t… I don’t really want to talk about it…,” you admit, and she gives your hands a small squeeze. She can’t help but notice the scent of salt and grease—you definitely had a bag with cheeseburgers and fries waiting for you, probably settled on the floor beside your feet so you weren’t leaving oily stains on her countertop.

Maybe it was ridiculous to be so upset. Stupid emotions. Stupid, stupid emotions that you should be able to control by now. Maybe it was because you let yourself get caught up in your hopes more than you thought and now you were left not just disappointed, but humiliated too.

“Oh, I got you this,” you continue after what you hoped was a forgettable dab to the corner of your eye with the knuckle of your right thumb. You pull your purse to the side to grab a small brown paper bag—one that didn’t have stains collecting on the bottom. “They didn’t have tuna, but I know you said you like turkey better than ham so…”

“You don’t need to keep bringing me food,” she reassured you with a sweet smile, as if it didn’t make her day whenever you did. She wasn’t used to such a kind young girl being around—someone who thought to get her something to eat or listened to her stories with all the respect and attentiveness that makes a person feel like they matter.

“It’s rude to show up with food for myself and not for you,” you argued gently while offering her a weak, closed mouth smile.

“You still don’t have to, though… Why don’t you go lie down, hm?” Martha patted at your hands again before sinking back into her seat. “Rest up a little. I’m here if you need to talk.”

*

As you laid alone in your bed that night with your hair still partially damp after a shower—memories of your childhood flooded in. You hated feeling so utterly lonely and rejected. It only made you think of growing up which always made you feel worse. It reminded you of being all by yourself at ages where you really should’ve had your parents around, or at least a babysitter.

They hadn’t been ready to have a kid, not really. The couple had been all wrapped up in the romanticism and fantasy of starting a family, and didn’t listen when other parents shared stories to hint at the fact that it’s not that easy. You wondered if that’s when they started to hate you. When you cried all night when they wanted to sleep or go bar hopping with friends. When you’d spit up on them; or suddenly have a shift in your sleeping habits just when they thought they had a grasp on them; or when you constantly grew out of those clothes they swore they just bought. You were a waste of time and money. They looked forward to you growing up more than anything so they could leave you in the house and eventually kick you out of it.

Once you were old enough to make a sandwich or pour a bowl of cereal on your own, they abandoned you as much as possible. Sure, you could handle a peanut butter and jelly or a bowl of Cheerios—that didn’t mean you felt secure in the house all by yourself. At first you would leave all the lights on to give yourself some semblance of security, but then they yelled at you over an electric bill you didn’t understand. Then you’d have “accidents” just so they’d come home—whether that was slicing your finger while trying to cut your sandwich or because you fell or something else you thought of. You found comfort in them being around even if they were pissed at you for being the reason they had to come back early. Then they stopped coming home when you called them crying. Instead, they reassured you that you were old enough to clean your finger and put on a bandaid; or that the fall wasn’t that bad if you could get up and go to the phone in the kitchen. So that ended up being a lost cause.

The habit that stuck the longest was from that little magic 8 ball you got one birthday from an aunt you never saw. It actually listened to you and gave you the reassurance and guidance you needed. When you were scared of the dark, you’d whisper “Do monsters exist?” and it told you no. When you thought you heard someone in the house just because it was settling, you’d ask it if someone broke in and it helped ease your racing heart with the same reply. Besides Eddie, it was your only companion. That stupid hunk of plastic.

Hot tears that you assumed were all spent earlier today stream down from your eyes and into your hair as your train of thought turns to one memory in particular. That night you shook the child’s toy with all your might as you asked it if your parents loved you. This time the familiar phrase scratched into that floating blue triangle wasn’t so comforting.

It was a flash. A blurry replay from the back of your mind, but it still hit you hard. You wipe at your wet cheeks with the feverish haste of someone who was crying in front of a stranger. No one was in the room with you, but you still hated the way it felt. You should’ve never let any of those tears fall today—that’s what made them real. That’s what cemented how miserable you really were.

“Just look up at the sky and blink if you don’t want to.” Eddie had said as he sat next to you on the pavement.

He had been teaching you how to skate and you fell off of his board, leaving your knees and palms all scraped up and bloody. You wanted to cry, but you hated crying. It made you feel like a dumb kid. Mom and dad hate dumb, crybaby kids. You should be able to control your emotions better than this by now.

“If they don’t slip out then they’re not real. They never happened, I promise.” The boy lisped around the gap in his teeth. He had lost his last baby tooth earlier that week. He was all grown up, you guessed.

“But what about when I can’t keep them in?” You whimpered, unsure if you’d be able to blink them back the way he suggested. The boy toyed with a piece of gravel between his fingers and shrugged lazily.

“I dunno. Just wipe ‘em away, I guess. I don’t have any tissues, but you can use my sleeve if you wanna.”

He pulled his long sleeve down until it was over his hand and offered his covered fist to you.

You huffed out a broken laugh at the memory and pulled your own sleeve down to continue wiping at your face. God, you missed him. He was your first best friend, and honestly your last. You had never felt that close with anyone else, and sure it was dumb because you were only kids but it still meant a lot to you. He was who you went to when you didn’t want to stay in an empty house, and even though most parents would throw a fit over a girl and a boy having sleepovers—yours couldn’t care less. At least someone else was in charge of you, even if it was Eddie’s dad who they thought was shit for reasons you didn’t understand.

He was a kind of intimidating looking character and sometimes he insisted you two stay at the local park until he came to get you when he had some friends on their way over (which you realized the implications of later), but he was a nice dad. You were around so often that he’d call you “kiddo” and ruffle your hair the way he did with Eddie’s buzzed scalp—which was more grabbing the fuzzy top of his head and nudging him around playfully than really ruffling hair. He knew you didn’t like crust on your sandwiches. He knew you liked strawberry milk more than chocolate milk, which Eddie appreciated cause it meant more chocolate Yoo-hoo for him. His dad was relatively busy and a little intense, but you liked him and you liked staying over.

Even at 24, you missed blanket forts. You missed making up stories under all the blankets and sheets as you held flashlights under your faces. You missed “camping” in the backyard. You missed wrestling. You missed watching tv until the American flag was fluttering and the national anthem played until the screen faded to black. You missed the anticipation of trying to see who was faster at turning off the tv before the screen flipped to those streaks of color and let out that god awful noise. You took turns to see who could get the closest to right when it was about to switch but before that noise could sound. You had the best score before he left.

You smiled lightly now as you settled into the bed, face still warm from all your distress of the day. Despite Eddie being part of why you had been crying in the first place, you still turned to memories of him to calm yourself down. You thought about when you were sure he’d be your first kiss—a decision you had made unfortunately a few weeks before he left. This was the kind of childish memory that made you roll your eyes, but deep down it actually made life simpler and sweeter so you still cozied up to it whenever you remembered. Reminiscing about when those kinds of things were new and exciting—without the burden of knowing all the mess that eventually comes with endearment—soothed you.

At the time, you were steadily approaching adolescence and starting to pay attention to romance novels and tv programs. It made having a boy as your best friend suddenly feel different in your stupid little prepubescent brain. The same shit he always did started to make you go shy and blush, and he’d nudge you and call you a “fuckin’ dork”. He was still in his “girls are gross” phase whereas you were already forming crushes. You developed crushes just about every day by the time you were in fifth grade, but you liked your best friend the most.

It’s funny actually—or maybe just sad—but you still had a habit of constantly forming crushes. The thought of being desired by someone thrilled you, but that love for attention put you in shitty situations sometimes. No one even liked you until you were maturing in a way that felt so much sooner and so much faster than the other girls by grade 6. Maybe that should’ve been the tell that the sudden interest in you was hollow, but it made you feel special. You kinda liked knowing boys fixated on you even if they were mimicking lewd comments they overheard their older brothers say or wrote about you in the boy’s bathroom—no matter how much you hated yourself for secretly basking in all of the attention.

It wasn’t always dumb boys in middle school, though, even if it would’ve been nice for things to be that basic forever. Eventually it was guys who were too old for you when you were in your late teens. The types who’d say shit like “That’s what you gotta love about high school girls. You get older, and they stay the same age,” and made you feel like you were grown and capable—when it benefited them, of course.

The nights you regretted getting wrapped up in the excitement of an older man or someone you had never met before at a bar or someone who had a bad habit of punching holes into walls awfully close to where your head was against the plaster—you thought about Eddie. You wondered if he grew up to be as awful as all the other boys you knew. If he turned into a creep or if he was the same, sweet boy who—sure, would hold you down and pretend he was gonna spit on you—but had also been taught to hold the door open for you or gave you a flower on your birthday or held your hands when he taught you to skate, promising that he wouldn’t let you fall. Well, except for when you insisted you were ready to do it by yourself. Then he said “Okay, but if you fall on your ass then you don’t get to yell at me.” And you didn’t yell, but he gave you his sleeve if you needed to cry.

There were parents who disappointed. Extended family you rarely heard from. Friends that came and went. Boyfriends who broke your heart, but best friends were forever in your mind. Wasn’t that why you made those bracelets and spit into your palms before shaking on the decision that you were always going to be there for each other?

*

Eddie’s shift dragged along after that strange young woman showed up. He knew his reputation. He knew that he was the butt of most jokes. He knew he was the town freak even when he had finally graduated and was trying to be a responsible adult. There would always be a few who remained unrelenting in their efforts to make him miserable, or at least that’s how it felt. And it wasn’t like you were someone he recognized as guilty for his constant harassment, but it wouldn’t be the first time some local asshole’s cousin or friend came to visit and was put up to the task of making him feel liked just for it to be some cruel punchline. He was tired of the jokes and the pranks and the muttered comments as people watched his every move. He needed to stay one step ahead or he’d be dealing with it forever. Why else would you pull him away from the back just to talk to him? He didn’t even know you. The frustration burned at him through most of his shift, which he took out on all the exertion he had to put into fixing that crappy Ford Ranch Wagon. He prayed that he would finally sleep tonight, the thought of a hot shower and an old bed waiting for him steadily bringing his mood back up.

Eddie sighed happily when it was time to clock out, holding the door open for Linda on her way out so she could lock up for the two of them.

“Night, Lin,” he sighed with a small smile that spoke of apologies for his constant grouchiness, and parted from her to head to his van.

“Oh, wait!” she suddenly called out, making him raise his brows and twist on his heels. He watched her make her way over to him all while holding something out for him.

“This was left for you by that odd girl who came by.”

At the mention of you, he scowled a little—certain it was a continuation of some joke, until he felt the plastic beads strung together on some string.

“Uh… thanks.”

“She looked real upset. All teary-eyed. Did you break up with that poor girl?”

“What?” Eddie’s head snapped up to eye her incredulously. “I—No! I don’t even recognize her. I don’t think we’ve even met before.”

Lin eyed him suspiciously before letting out a small hum. Men, she thought, although Eddie had always been a good kid, in her opinion—no matter what others said.

“Really, I swear.”

“Okay, hon… well go get some rest, alright?”

He hoped the same for her, and walked back to his car once she was safe in her vehicle and driving off. Eddie clambered into his old van and carelessly punched the button that turned on the light above his head. The bracelet in his hand was small and crowded with an odd assortment of different shaped and colored beads except for seven of the nearly identical beads that were lined up in the center. At both ends there were knots in the thick string to keep the beads from slipping off and had tails left on either side so you could tie and untie the bracelet whenever. Not that you two ever did untie them. The only time you took yours off was when you went swimming at the community pool and were scared you were going to lose it—and that didn’t count. You both promised it didn’t count cause you were just avoiding disaster.

He held it up to get a better look and read the lettering on those seven beads.

C-R-I-T-T-E-R

Critter. Eddie’s brows furrowed together and confusion was only welcome for half a second—maybe even less—before a pang of familiarity punched him in the gut.

“You’re doing it wrong!”

“How can I be doing it wrong? Will you screw off?”

“Eddie, you have to make a pretty pattern of colors, not just random mish-mash. See?”

You held up the bracelet you were working on for him with a pattern of his favorite colors: red bead, blue bead, black bead, red bead… and so on. His was just whatever bead he grabbed that he thought looked cool since you had so many to choose from. There were bulky wooden ones; those tiny little rainbow ones your mom let you have when her long necklace full of them broke (she didn’t want to clean them up so she promised you could keep them if you did); sunburst ones; chunky square ones that had letters and numbers on them; tribeads that were half in and half out of that thin plastic Beadery bag in your collection; and those dumb pop beads that he couldn’t even put on the string but of course kept picking up by accident.

“Screw off,” He insisted a second time and you rolled your eyes before continuing with your craft.

For all the shit you gave him, you loved the bracelet. Once it was done and he gave it to you, it was officially the most beautiful piece of jewelry you owned. You had insisted you two trade the bracelets like you heard the other girls in your grade talk about. You had to make them for each other rather than make your own and you had to tie them around the other’s wrist while they closed their eyes and made a wish.

Some of the boys in school gave him shit for it, calling him names for wearing jewelry he got from the girl in the grade below them. He didn’t care though. After all, Eddie wasn’t one to change himself for the sake of fitting in and he loved his bracelet.

He laughed a bit in disbelief now as he looked down at the bracelet he made for you back in 1975. You remembered him? God, he hadn’t thought of you in forever. Not to be an ass, but because it got too painful.

Among all of the stress that night his dad was arrested, he had been so overwhelmed that he completely shutdown. He was quiet and his expression was numb as he answered questions and packed his things. He was apprehensive and apathetic when he was brought to his uncle he rarely saw, but he didn’t cry. And he never told anyone this, but he never cried until a random thought of not seeing his best friend anymore suddenly set him off while he was trying to sleep. That was what made him realize the reality of everything that occurred. He didn’t have his home anymore. He didn’t have his dad. He didn’t have anything other than a new guardian and a trailer with one bedroom that Wayne had to pull all of his stuff out of so Eddie could have it. And he didn’t have you.

He brought you up a few times, but eventually stopped when he realized how stressed Wayne got over the mention of a trip into Ohio. A trip that meant dipping into his funds—that were already starting to run spectacularly low now that he was responsible for an 11 year old—for the gas money and probably a fee at the state line. Likely a motel room too, if your parents didn’t let them stay at the house.

How did he not recognize you? The more he thought over your interaction, the more he recognized your eyes and the shape of your nose and the curve of your lips even if they were fuller now. Little things here and there that even as an adult made it easier to see the bits and pieces of how you used to look. Here he’s been sulking in all his misery and loneliness, and he had completely scared off the chance to have an old best friend back. And Linda said you had tears in your eyes?

Eddie groaned as he let his head sink forward and rest on the center of his steering wheel. He didn’t even care about the horn that permeated the still night around him as self deprecating thoughts swirled before finally letting up on the button. This groan wasn’t a useless cry to the sky over the state of his life like the others so far, but rather a display of anger at himself for being such a dick. And he couldn’t even fix it. He didn’t have your phone number. He didn’t know where you were staying, if you were even staying. Did you move here? Were you just driving through the state and thought to drop by? Maybe have lunch and catch up before leaving again?

Why did he always have to fuck everything up?

*

You spent a good portion of your weekend sulking until Martha dragged you out on Sunday. You had been eating all the food you brought with you alone in your room and only went outside when you craved your bad habit enough.

“This has to be a violation of a paying customer’s privacy…,” you groaned as you rolled over and shoved your face into your pillow to avoid the light coming in full force from the windows. Martha had unlocked your door and came in to throw the curtains open to pull you out of your post-humiliation funk.

“It’s a beautiful morning. We’re going on a walk to take it all in and I’m taking you to that diner I keep telling you about.”

“I could’ve been naked. What if you came charging in here and I was laying here naked? Neither of us would’ve recovered. And our friendship would be ruined.”

“Oh don’t be so childish,” Martha huffed, hands on her hips. For an older woman she sure could be spritely when she wanted to be—whipping around your room the way she had been and insisting on a journey into the outdoors.

“It’s too cold.”

“Not when we start moving. It’s not even Autumn yet.”

“Technically the first day of Fall has already passed,” you corrected, still face planting your pillow and raising your hand up as you made your point before dropping it back down.

“Well the cold hasn’t reached us yet. I think you’ll survive. Come on, dear, it’ll be good for you. Good for both of us. I’m always cooped up at that desk.”

You sigh, but stay in your bed with all your plans set on sulking until the end of time. Until you were a pile of dust she was vacuuming up so she could get the room ready for someone else. Maybe you were being a tad dramatic, but you still felt that way.

“You want me to wake you up the way Howard did with our daughter? When she wouldn’t get up for high school?”

Now groaning at the thought of that cup of ice cold water trick she told you about, you huff and you finally force yourself up.

Despite your initial refusal to get out of bed, you were glad that Martha made you. It really was a wonderful morning and the smell of fresh air and the sound of the occasional leaf crunching under your feet refreshed you. Even with how deeply you despised being lonely, you had a habit of isolating yourself when you were upset and it could be quite destructive at times when you didn’t have someone to pull you back out of it. She didn’t even force you to discuss Thursday, just kept up casual chit chat like always.

And even if that walk hadn’t been enough to begin lifting your spirits, the food at the diner certainly would’ve done the trick all on its own. It wasn’t the prettiest joint around, but the breakfast was phenomenal. You wondered if she picked up on the fact that food and eating with others was a part of your love language. Being introduced to such an amazing local restaurant that clearly meant a lot to her soothed your aches of rejection and mortification.

Both aspects of the morning Martha forced you to take part in actually helped to improve your mood. What happened still stung but it was less “end of the world” and a little more ��bump in the road.” With the fresh air, breakfast food and Martha’s pep talks—you were thinking of your next couple of steps forward rather than all the doom and gloom. You’d attempt to quit all the fast food that only left you more sluggish, and start finding other things to pay attention to. You weren’t giving up on Eddie, but you had to focus on your other needs again. This meant getting out of bed. Eating something other than cheeseburgers and fries, promising Martha you’d get other food Monday.

Well, maybe not Monday. You may have caved again, but you swore the next day. So on that following Tuesday night, you were at the market to pick up some things for you and Martha. There was a small fridge and a cabinet in your room that you could keep things in, and you offered to pick up anything she needed while you were out.

Peanut butter for you, cans of soup for her—oh, actually soup sounded good. With your sudden craving, you grabbed a few more cans. Milk for both of you, as well as cereal. Microwave meals for you, sardines for her—

Oh gross, sardines?

—Could you even stay friends at this revelation? You supposed you could since she let you bother her even with your fast food she couldn’t stand. But this fact wasn’t going anywhere. You were going to give her your best, most dramatic yuck when you gave her her groceries and you would have to insist that she never eats them where you can smell them.

You moved on through the list, and pushed your cart that fought you every step of the way to the bread and baked goods aisle. Why did you always get the cart with the squeaky wheel? The one that stuck every now and then and dragged against the linoleum before finally returning to a squealing roll? Bad luck, you supposed.

Once you were in the aisle, you double checked what brand she requested before letting out a sigh. Of course they were the loaves that were neatly stacked on the top shelf. Notepad paper crushed between your hand and the shelf you were using for support, you stretched up onto your tiptoes as best as you could to grab for one. You could easily grab the pinched end of one and just tug, but you didn’t want to accidentally squish any of them or make any of the others go tumbling. You’re about to step on the bottom shelf when suddenly a hand much larger than yours littered with heavy rings was grabbing it either from you like a dick or for you like a gentleman.

“Still short, huh?” You heard the rough, tired voice say from beside you.

You settled back on your feet and glanced at the man holding out the loaf of bread for you. He was in those dirty coveralls again with the sleeves rolled up, clearly from when he had taken the time to clean his hands and forearms before leaving his shift. His hair was out of its ponytail now so you could see it in all of its chaotic glory. As you accepted his kindness for Martha’s sake, you did your best to tamper your reaction to him being here. Whether it was any excitement over him possibly trying to fix things; or if it was intrigue over how his hair got so long and the fact that he had tattoos now; or if it was irritation leftover from how he treated you last Thursday. Had you still been familiar with one another, and this had been a small spat between friends, you probably would’ve just punched his arm.

“What? Come to yell at me some more?” You mutter. Okay so trying to keep a neutral stance wasn’t going very well.

You hear him exhale a quick sigh at your words and the way you refused to look at him. You had one elbow leaning against your cart now while you put all your focus on toying with the piece of paper in your hands. Folding and unfolding, smoothing out creases, lining up the edges of the paper and fixing the previous fold so everything fits better.

“No,” he replied in a defeated tone, but you still weren’t looking at him. “‘N I’m sorry about that, okay? Just wasn’t expecting it, and it’s not like you’re 9 anymore.”

“So I’m guessing you recognize me now?”

“A little, yeah,” He tried to be playful, a small smile tugging on his features until you looked up at him with that sad expression and he was deflated again. “Joke. Bad joke, I- of course I recognize you, Critter.”

You failed in your attempt to not smile at the nickname you hadn’t heard in far too long, making Eddie straighten out his posture again at the sight of your lips curving up.

“You still don’t have a poker face. That right there?” He points at your smile, while his own pulled at his lips “That’s how I won all of your best candy bars on Halloween.”

“You never really kept them from me,” You countered, head tilting back to fully look up at him now and your smile a little more sure.

“Of course not. Cause I’m a sucker and you can get whatever you want with a pout,” He laughed and you grew bashful as your cheeks flushed, ducking your head back down to try and hide it.

“Here,” Eddie sighed after a beat, digging into his pocket and pulling out a bracelet to drop in your palm.

Figuring he was returning yours to you, you were confused when you didn’t see your usual mix of beads. Your brows stayed knit together until you recognized those red, blue and black beads and the nickname in the center. Your features softened as you held out your hand for him to drop it into.

L-O-O-G-I-E

“You kept it…?” you murmured as you stared at the plastic bracelet like it’s treasure, before looking up at him again while your fingers brushed over the beads.

“Obviously,” he replied bluntly, pointing at it.

“Completely tore my place apart to find it so I could prove it, too. Not that my place is the neatest to start with, but…,” he let out a light laugh, head tilting and lazy smile tugging at one side of his mouth. He still smiled the same.

You eyed him for a moment, then returned your focus to the old jewelry. You felt oddly reserved with him after his initial reaction to your appearance at his work, and all the time you spent apart. You never had to work up the courage to speak to him before, or think about what to say or how to say it.

“10.”

“…Hm?”

“I was 10 years old. You said I wasn’t exactly 9 anymore, but it was actually a few weeks out from my birthday when you had to leave.”

“I guess that’s true, huh?” Eddie sighed, crossing his arms over his chest.

Why were his arms so fit? And veiny? And why do you have to tilt your head back to see his face now? Ugh, you’re starting to feel like that young girl who read her first romance novel and was developing her first crushes.

“Yeah…,” you say simply, fearing you’ll make a fool of yourself if you try to say more.

“I’m sorry that all happened around your birthday.”

He was so sincere when he said it, but it made your eyes grow wide as you looked up at his face again.

“Oh god– no. No, no, no. Don’t apologize. That’s not how I meant that at all. You-- that wasn’t your fault. And it was worse for you than it was for me, for obvious reasons.”

“Yeah, with the convict dad and all. But it’s a real shame…,” he sighs with feigned disappointment. “Y’know… that you couldn’t kiss me on your birthday.”

That evil grin sunk his dimples into his cheeks and he sucked on his teeth while he clasped his hands behind his back. Your eyes might as well have been popping out of your skull at this point, your whole face heating up.

“I— you— how— oh, you dick!” you gasp at the revelation through all of your sputtering and punch his shoulder without even thinking, and certainly not noticing the elderly woman who huffed at your unladylike behavior before scuttling away. “You read my diary!”

“Yeah, well, you really should’ve gotten the kind that came with a lock.”

“So you don’t recognize me, but you remember a journal entry you shouldn’t have read? Great, that’s great, Eddie.”

You were turning around now, starting to push your cart towards the other end of the aisle. Roll. Squeak. Maybe it was time to head back to Ohio? Maybe you didn’t need such an obnoxious little shit back in your life. Drag. Roll. Squeak.

“I said I was sorry for not recognizing you,” he groaned and followed after you. “How much groveling am I gonna have to do?”

Oh, plenty. Plenty of groveling.

*

taglist: @mystars123 @h-ness1944 @ohmeg @milkymil-k

@eddiesprincess86

[tildeathiwillwrite]

Hero x Villain Whump Finale (June of Doom Day 29)

Alt. "I'm not okay."

Prompts List | Event Masterpost

Hero x Villain Masterpost | <- Previous Part

Fandom: Original Work

Tag List: @juneofdoom @fourwingedsnake @whumperofworlds @pigeonwhumps @mr-orion

@scaewolf @doctorsawyer @pinkrangerv @42questionsandaloafofbread

CW: concussion, captivity whump, referenced injuries, delirious, swearing, bridal carry

A/N: thank you so much for all your comments on this work! It has been really encouraging and I've had a lot of fun writing this. Thank you especially to @fourwingedsnake for requesting I pick the Hero x Villain series back up after Whumpmas. This is late in part because I didn't want to rush it and post something that in my eyes sucked.

Love all of you!

----------

Leader had been cocky enough to keep Hero and Villain’s cells relatively close to one another. Not cocky enough to place them next door, but close enough that each could hear the other screaming. Or lack thereof.

When Hero stepped inside the cell after Techie unlocked it, they found Villain slumped against the wall, head bowed, eyes closed. The blood on their face had clotted into a dark red matted mess in their hair and on their temple, and four small, round bruises dotted their cheek.

Where Leader had touched them.

Where Leader had inflicted their powers on them.

“Villain?”

They stirred slightly, eyes cracking open. “Oh… hey Hero…” they murmured, words slurring together. Wincing, they pressed one hand to the side of their head. “Ow… got the worst headache….”

Panic rose in Hero’s throat, but they gritted their teeth against the fear, crouching at their side. “Villain, you had a pretty bad concussion when we got here, and then Leader… they… they used their powers on you.”

“I… huh… so that’s… that’s what happened… fuck that hurt a lot….” Their eyes slid closed and their head drooped down, their hand falling to their side.

“Villain?! Villain!” Hero grabbed their shoulder and shook them, not caring if it made the concussion worse.

They groaned. “Ugh… whaddya do that for…?”

“Villain, you’re not okay.”

“No… no shit…” they muttered, “a child could… could tell I’m not okay….”

Hero took a deep breath. It was strange seeing Villain like this, they were used to Villain being the strong one. But Villain was in no shape for that, so now it was Hero’s turn. “I got you. Can you stand?”

“I dunno… fuck… I’m sorry… so… so useless….”

“You are not useless!” Hero snapped. “It’s not your fault we got caught, you did all you could.”

Villain laughed dryly, a short brief sound that trailed off into a low groan. “...don’t even… have any powers… Leader just kept me around for… for fucking training purposes….”

“Well fuck them! Fuck them and whatever they said to you! They’re a lying piece of shit, and if it weren’t for you Techie wouldn’t have had the courage to take them down!”

Villain’s eyes cracked open at that. “Didya just… say Techie? Took them down?”

Hero glanced over their shoulder at their teammate and jerked their head. Techie hesitated, but took the cue and stepped inside the cell, massive energy gun in hand. They nodded at Villain, a slightly self-satisfied expression on their face.

“Oh…” Villain murmured, “suppose I should… apologize… for punching you in the face… that one time….”

Techie rolled their eyes. “I let you both inside the building. Didn’t think you were gonna attack me like that, otherwise I would’ve locked myself inside the control room until you were done.”

“S… sorry…”

“I got over it.”

Hero carefully scooped Villain up in a bridal carry, their limp form in their arms. Villain groaned slightly at the movement, their eyes sliding closed again. “The light… hurts….”

“I’ll get you medical attention,” Hero said reassuringly as they moved out into the hallway, “there are a few people in your part of the city who would gladly see to your recovery as a favor for protecting them well.”

Techie frowned. “Why do you say that like you’re not going to be watching over them?”

Hero stiffened slightly at the accusation but started walking towards the stairs regardless. “Someone needs to watch over the city. With Leader and Shapeshifter… indisposed… and Youngest out of commission, it needs to be done. You can’t do it alone.”

“About that…” Techie said softly, trailing behind them, “I… uh… contacted one of the other superhero teams. Sent them everything in my database. And I mean everything.”

Hero stopped in their tracks. “So Leader will see justice?!”

Techie nodded, an almost disbelieving smile on their face. In Hero’s arms, Villain stirred. “Hope they… hope they have… a good time in prison… heh… ugh….”

Hero glanced down at them, hesitated, and planted a quick kiss on their forehead. Villain’s eyes flew open in shock. “Hey… no fair… can’t kiss you back….”

“Oh! Of course!” Hero leaned their head forward, their lips finding Villain’s. It was strange, harboring these feelings, these attachments for so long, and finally having them out in the open. It was comforting. Villain loved them back. 

The kiss didn’t last nearly as long as Hero wanted, but duty prompted them to pull away long before they desired to. “Let’s get you medical attention.”

“…m’kay…” Villain murmured sleepily.

Techie watched them leave, Villain in Hero’s arms. When they finally decided to follow, to accompany them to the door, Techie realized they were grinning like an idiot.

Everything was going to be okay.

[oogaboogaspookyman]

Lmfao N says fuck fic how original

[SNAP]

"So, N..." Uzi sits down on her Spinny Chair Of Genius™, as she likes to call it, as N sits on a beanbag. "Since i am your new apparent admin, this means i have some form of control over you and V, yeah?"

"I guess?" N shrugs "I mean- i don't know, i'm not the human that made me, i don't know my inner workings..."

He suddenly has a small thought start to grow in his head, and immediately lets it slip out of curiosity. "Wh- what are you trying to do?? Are you gonna look through my settings..?" He scratches his head in a bashful manner, blushy as it's literally some very delicate and probably private stuff.

Uzi grins like the absolute gremlin she is, sharp teeth shining like the blade of a knife, as she fidgets with her fingers at the most chaotic thought she's had so far. Key word being: so far.

"I'm just gonna make a test, nothing harmful~" She giggles. N looks at Uzi with a metaphorical drop of sweat running down his visor as he thinks of the times Cyn giggled back in the mansion. She definetly made giggles way less scary than Uzi's.

Next day...

It started with Uzi's alarm going off. She slaps her own visor, turning it off, and promptly gets up. N seems to be deep in his sleep... Wonder what he's dreaming about? She kinda hopes it's her, but it's not something she'll reveal to any one schmuck at ALL, so thank me later.

i don't want to kill you. i don't want to kill anymore. i need you. don't go. don't leave me. please. i don't want to kill you. the universe is at risk. i can't lose more people in my life. i have to protect the universe. but you are my universe. please. no. don't go. please. i love you. i'm sorry.

XDXDXDXDXDXDXDXDXDXDXDXDXDXDXDXDXDXDXDXDDISASSEMBLYREQUIREDXDXDXDXDXDXDXDXDXDXDXDXDXDXDXDXDXDXDXDXDXDXDXD

M1S5 M3? :)

"N!!" He wakes up screaming, startling Uzi who's sitting conviniently really close and in front of him. On top of his lap. Like in those bits in movies where the love interest is uncomfortably close to the main character. Like that. Yeah.

"Hi Uziii...??" N whispers in bashful surprise as she processes the situation. Okay so i'm sitting here right in front of him and he just woke up and sat up really close to my face it's looking like something else is gonna happen and oh my robo-god i am going to fuckin' pass out hhhhh-

"aaaaaooOKAYWEGOTTAGOORELSEWERELATETOTHEFUCKINGSCHOOLSHITAAAA" N yelps Uzi pushes him away by the face in a rush. N gets back up to yell (but like- not angry or anything, more like yelling so she hears him clearly) "Language! Your dad's around, you know?? It's why i say"biscuits" instead, i don't wanna be rude!". It's a long pause of silence as he thinks, realizing... "How can you even swear at all by the way???"

It started with a horrible, terrifying, traumatic, very lore heavy nightmare along with a scare and rush to school. This day is certainly not gonna go all too well and i am here for it he's boutta SNAP lol.

Next it was Lizzy doing her usual popular girl spoiled brat bullshit, and N cannot kill her because murder as a whole is wrong and it's no solution to anything at all. Uzi knows this and it bothers her so much more than i can describe.

Next was the teacher being this smug idiot doing whatever, giving the class a dumb thing to do without caring about anything, only looking through his phone either busy with other work or straight up messing around. Uzi and N are very much bothered by this and Uzi wants to speak up... Which she does. To no avail, as the teacher ran out of fucks to give. N just tolerates and tries to lighten up the mood by being his friendly self (got a dude and a chick head over heels for him and he doesn't realize, thinks they're just extra friendly), but it's mostly very little effect. All because he doesn't wanna be rude. It's gonna get real soon enough though.

Next was the discrimation towards N, as he is a Disassembly Drone and they're pretty scared of him... Well at least it's not ALL of them, some are very much enjoying his presence. Why that is i'll tell you in the dms because i don't think i can say it here lmfao.

Next was the teasing. Yes some drones in the school figured out the whole Nuzi shebang and are now teasing them about it. "Hey purple girl, how's the biting like?", "How does your murder buddy kiss? I'm just curious~", "How's it like living with a small girl like her? Bet she likes it when you pick her up~", "N you are so much better than her, there's that other murderous girl out there that killed Doll's parents, she seems right up your ally!", and it just doesn't stop. Ever. N is genuinely bothered by this, he's very uncomfortable.

Inconvience after inconvience, minor and major, impactful and not, it just doesn't friggin' STOP.

Luckily that's all there is, they're going home! Albeit not very happy but they're going to their comfortable space of a home nonetheless!

But i did say he's gonna snap at some point.

"Uzi, have you seen my glasses? I gotta read something important" Says Khan, not actually needing glasses as he's a robot, he can see just fine, but everyone in Copper 9 is all mimicking humans so Khan doesn't realize that and needs glasses anyway.

"I'm getting them, Mr. Uzi!" N chirps, happy to help like all the time, as he jumps up from his seat and walks around, looking for Khan's glasses. "Thanks, Uzi's very lucky to have you as this potential boyfriend!" Uzi lets out a very UNHOLY screech of embarrassment as she yells "HE'S NOT MY BOYFRIEND". N does sigh at this, but he's too busy looking for Khan's glasses to care.

"Ooh! There you are!" N whips out a pair of glasses from inside... Uzi's wardrobe?? Does she prank him often??? Anywho, he found the glasses!

"I got 'em Mr. Uzi!! I found them in Uzi's wardrobe which is very weird and raises a few questions but i found them nonetheless!!" Khan processes the statement and wheezes as a response.

"What? What's funny??" N is very confused. Khan chuckles as he pats N in the back, "What just happened while i was sleeping was that Uzi just hid them away as a prank of sorts, she's very mischievous!" He's giggling as he explains, and so does N because come on it's funny how could he not?

Oh and N drops the glasses in his giggle fit. Resulting in them breaking upon landing. They stop laughing as they notice this.

N's eye twitches as his hands vibrate.

"N it's okay, i'll just get new ones-" says Khan, immediately interrupted by the next paragraph under this one

"MOTHERFUCKER!!!"

Khan is startled and frozen up in shock. Uzi heard that from the other room and is also shocked. If there were birds in Copper 9 they would fly away in flocks.

"Are you- are you okay-" Khan's interrupted again. "NO I'M NOT OKAY SHIT JUST KEPT HAPPENING AND I'M FUCKING PISSED ABOUT THAT AND BECAUSE I COULDN'T FUCKING DO ANYTHING ABOUT IT. SON OF A BITCH THEY KEPT ON TEASING ME AND BEING WEIRD AROUND ME AND OH MY FUCKING GOD WHY CAN'T I JUST BE TREATED LIKE A NORMAL FUCKING DRONE?!?!?!"

Khan is frozen in shock as Uzi silently giggles to herself from the other room. "It worked! I turned off his filter holy shit it worked eheheheheee!"

"I'M... I'm going outside for a breather, be right fuckin' back" N storms out through the front entrance, as Khan holds a hand out trying to stop him, "it's sunny outside, careful-" but it was too late.

"FUUCK!!" And so N storms right back in, with burns on his casing, "I'm going to Uzi's room then"

"I DID IT!!" Uzi whisper-yells to herself. Somehow.

Twas a very loud and messy day, hope you enjoyed this lmao

[000marie198]

Done!

Prime Bros being the sillies they are. Enjoy!

Damage Control

-------

Urgent loud shouts mixed in with sounds of growling and struggling can be heard by every flicky and critter having the misfortune of passing by the recently expanded workshop in Green Hill.

"Nine! No!"

"Let me at him! I'll rip his tails out!"

Inside the living room, the source of most of the growling is barely being held back by two others who look like him as he struggles against them to attack the one in front.

"Hey-! Calm down, he was joking!"

"Aye not be joking, brother. Lad sword fights like a limp rope."

"Sails," Tails grunts, both his arms wrapped around their angry, trigger-happy brother, "I swear to Chaos if you don't shut up right now- Woah!"

There's a crash as one very pissed off multi tailed fox manages to push him off and pounces at the pirate, only to hit the coffee table as Sails dodges the attack with an infuriating grin.

"That's some sloppy footwork there."

It has the intended effect of riling the other up even more.

Tails rubs his temples and lets out a sigh of frustration, his namesakes whipping around in agitation. The noises become louder and a startled yelp from Mangey is heard amongst the ruckus. The youngest fox then lets out a growl of his own and pounces at Nine, clinging to his face and trying to pull him back.

The metal tailed fox makes a startled yip, Mangey barks and Sails is unable to stop himself as he snorts and breaks up into amused cackles.

"Beaten by a hug, eh? Never thought I'd see the day."

Tails' ears twitch as they catch the subtle sound of several clicks and low hum, the young aviator instantly recognizing the sound of his brother's namesakes activating.

"Oh no…"

He's running towards the two and grabbing the metal appendages before they could snap towards their laughing idiot of a brother who has zero self preservation skills. Where is Sonic when you need him?

Nine scowls at him, having pried Mangey free from his face and holding the young fox in his arms with far too much gentleness than he'd ever admit.

"Let go, Tails."

"Yeah right. So you two can break more furniture?"

"No," he rolls his eyes, "so I can teach him just how 'awful' I am at combat." He sends the pirate a heated glare.

"Tch," said pirate scoffs from behind Tails. "Very awful, I'd reckon."

"The only combat you are good at is swinging around a large knife."

"And yet, I still managed to defeat you the other day."

"You cheated."

Tails and Mangey share a look, one pair of blue eyes brimming with exasperation and the other with concern.

What do we do? The latter seem to ask.

Tape them to the wall, Tails' mind supplies. He ignores it. He values his stash of mint candies far too much to risk it.

"Pirate." Sails singsongs in response to Nine's earlier statement.

That does it for the other. Their brother places Mangey down and frees his artificial appendages in one smooth movement - Tails being pushed off for the second time in five minutes - before jumping on the pirate without warning, this time succeeding in tackling him as the two start battling like wild cats.

"Oh come on!" The only civilized fox in the room groans, flinching at the sound of something shattering. His frustration is replaced by horror as he realizes what exactly was broken.

"My tablet!" Tails exclaims and glares at the two, throwing every ounce of forgiveness and maturity out the window to pounce on them with a vengeful yell, immediately getting pulled into the ball of wildly intense scuffle.

Mangey watches the escalated fight in bewilderment for a total of two seconds before he jumps into the fray with a battle cry of his own.

Voices and snarls and words mix up into a cacophony of noises until it's impossible to tell the four apart, further crashes sounding out as the ball of fighting fox kits rolls around the place without any regard for the furniture.

Moments later, a distant sonicboom sounds somewhere outside, drowned out by the noise in the living room.

An unnatural gust of wind ruffles the fur of the foxes seconds before the front door slams open and a blue hedgehog merrily trudges in.

"I'm home! You guys won't believe what I…" Sonic trails off as he takes note of the toppled pieces of furniture and sees a fluffy ball of struggling, snarling foxes.

"Woah… What happened in here?"

At the sound of his voice, Mangey lights up with joy and immediately rolls out of the pile to greet his big brother with a grateful hug before sprinting off into a different room, Sonic barely catching sight of the superficial scratches on him. Tails follows the younger's example in extracting himself and leaves the other two vulpines to snap at each other.

"Sonic!" He exclaims, "Thank goodness you're finally here!" He then approaches Sonic and gives his shoulder a sympathetic pat, a relieved grin breaking out on his muzzle that has the hedgehog's brows furrowing in suspicion.

"They're all yours."

"Huh- What?"

Tails doesn't answer and is already running off into his lab with a broken tablet in hand by the time Sonic realizes what he has been left with.

Sonic thanks Chaos that he still knows how to handle stubborn fox kits.

"Alright, you two, break it up," he lightly scolds as he scruffs them both up so they are left limply dangling from his hold.

The simultaneous, ''He started it!'' has him conflicted on sympathizing with tired parents and feeling proudly overjoyed that Nine is finally starting to act his age.

And even knowing Tails and Mangey purposefully left him alone to handle two rough housing foxes and feeling the briefest twinge of exasperation, Sonic cannot help but let out a fond smile.

~

[morning-sun-brah]

Here's my entry for the All 4-1 Challenge 

Hosted by: @turtle-babe83 @thelaundrybitch @leosgirl82 @nittleboo @tmnt-tychou and @post-apocalyptic-daydream

Warnings; A little NSFW, a lot more angst than I was expecting, and definitely more fluff. Also an ATLA joke thrown in for @ordin-arily

Reader and Leo are in their mid 20's. Minors DNI!!

Hope you all like this! I chose the prompt; Reader continually uses TERRIBLE pick up lines on your choice of turtle, trying to drop the hint.

Rise Leo x Reader

On a Scale from One to America...

Leon going back to his usual charming self after a Kraang invasion had… taken a while. 

He’d still been a quippy little fucker, to be sure. But with every new threat it was as though a little piece of his joy had been chipped away. And just because Kraang had been an actual nightmare, it didn’t stop New York from being a hotspot for criminal activity. 

By the time he’d turned 17 the streets were full of rats, all under the control of some nutcase who called himself the Rat King, and he’d been almost 19 when that maniac had finally been put away for good. Then he’d spent the next three years dealing with a now adult Baxter Stockboy (who insisted he be called Stockman but like that was ever going to happen), whose mousers had run him and his brothers out of their lair and had almost killed April in the climax of it all. 

They’d had only a two month stint of peace after that, and then, on the cusp of 22, some asshole who called himself New Shredder had decided he had a real vendetta against him and his brothers (get in line bud), and he’d once again nearly died trying to save his family. He’d nearly bled out all over the new lair and Donatello and Raph had disappeared for a week while he was healing- only to return with the grim assurance that New Shredder was no longer an issue (and Leo had refused to ask for details, not with the way Donnies eyes had glinted with malice when he’d opened his mouth to do so). 

And now Leo is 24 and…. 

Fuck… had he ever been funny?

Any coping mechanisms he’d gained in childhood had turned quickly into just cope, and one liners were pushed to the side while in constant pursuit to keep his brothers alive. Make it another day. Keep breathing. Keep going. 

It’s not about me.

So when he’d met you, it had been… jarring. 

“I swear I know you,” you’d told him, standing near the harbor, the lights of Alberto Land flickering in the distance, and Leo had just raised a brow ridge. 

“I’m literally out on the streets everyday saving this city’s ass.” 

“No, no,” you dismissed him with a wave, “That isn’t it. We’ve definitely met.” 

Before Leo can answer, you snap your fingers. 

“Oh! I know! You look just like my next boyfriend.” 

Leave it to April to make friends with a comedian. 

But his brothers had all snickered, flocking to your easy wit and charm, and Leo had been unable to keep you away from them. 

And truth be told, Leo was intrigued. 

“Cat got your tongue?”

Leo glares. 

“If not I’d be happy to-” 

“Stop, no. That’s terrible!” 

But you’d laughed and shrugged, throwing your arms around Mikey when he’d lifted you off the ground and twirled you about. 

“April,” Leo had told her one night on patrol. “Your friend is broken.”

But April looked a little sad when she smiled at him. 

“You sure it’s her?” 

And yeah, that stung. Leo used to be like this. He used to be like you. Funny. Outgoing. 

Happy. 

Part of him hated you for being such a stark reminder of all he’d lost. 

One night at Run of the Mill, you’d bounded up to him and with all the subtlety of a rock through a window had said, “I forgot my library card!” 

“This is a pizza pla-”

“Now I can’t check you out!”

“I’ll fucking murder you.” 

But he’d been unable to hide the little smile. When you’d looked victorious, he’d drown the look in a pitcher of beer, face pinched in a tight frown.

With the passing of his 25th birthday, Leo is finding the quiet on the villain front… concerning. He knew that it wasn’t a matter of if the next threat would come, but when it would show itself. 

But the lull continued, and in it there was suddenly an abundance of free time. Free time where Mikey cooked nonstop and Donnie invented and Raph took up knitting. Free time where his brothers dragged him to bars and clubs and theme parks. Free time where he was forced to partake in comic cons and wrestling matches and art galleries. 

Free time that felt wrong. Where was the next threat? Where was the next villain- if not on the distant horizon?

And through all this free time, all these leisure activities, there you were, like a cold he couldn’t shake. Plaguing his life with unwavering joy that always seemed like a spotlight on what he used to be. 

“Pretty sure I’m getting a parking ticket,” you tell him one night in the lair, and when he doesn’t respond, just looks at you with a bored expression, you add, “because you’re so fine.”

Leo snorts. “That was awful.” 

“Did it work?” 

“It did not.” 

Maybe it had worked a little, he decides later, fist tugging over his cock in the silence of his room, the whine of your name escaping his lips. 

“You’ve gotta stop bringing her around,” he tells April, looking out at the living room where you sprawl over the couch, bare feet trying to pinch Donatello’s thigh while he growls at you to knock it off.

“Why? She loves you guys!” 

Leon’s eyes narrow. “She’s gonna get hurt.” 

“How?!” April had exclaimed. “Nothing’s going on!” 

If possible, Leo’s frown deepens. 

“Now why would you jinx us like that?”

“Leo,” April says with a sigh. “Even if another big bad shows up… she's an adult. She gets to choose if she wants to be in the line of that danger.” 

That had done nothing to help Leo’s worry. It was incessant. Nagging. Something was going to happen. Something was bound to happen. They were Mutant Ninja Turtles. They lived a life that was not at all reflected of the peace they seemed to indulge in now. 

But the peace stretched. 

“Hey Leo, I heard you have a bone to pick with me,” you asked one night, the glow of a movie lighting up the hall from the living room to the kitchen, where you’d found him. 

“If this is a pick up line…” 

“Oooooohhhh, you’re right! That would have worked! Okay wait!” You flatten your hair and smooth out your smile. 

“Hey Leo,” you say again, voice dropping to a sultry tone, cocking your hip. “I heard you have a bone for me.” 

Leo shakes his head. “That is actually terrible.” 

“No, no, you’re supposed to say; I don’t! Why would you think that? And then I’ll say; Oh then what’s that in your pants?” 

It’s the moment he finally breaks. 

Leo laughs. 

“I hate you,” he says with a smile, and you smile back. 

“Look at that, you look so nice when you smile.” 

Something that feels like melancholy tugs at his heart. 

“Yeah… Yeah, I’ll have to try it more often.” 

And he does. 

“You guys are from Tennessee, right?”

Leo shakes his head and presses his lips together. 

“No.” 

“Cause you’re the only TEN I SEE… Get it? Ten I see, Tennessee?” 

“I got it,” Leo says, and he grins. 

And he does smile more when you’re around. And he laughs, and he feels a little more at ease, a little less worried. 

And his brothers notice. 

“Look at you, Leon! I don’t think I’ve heard you laugh like that since we were kids!” 

Leave it to Mikey to point it out. 

“I laugh!” Leo insists. 

Mikey gives what Leo feels is a very placating nod. 

“Yeah, sure. Don’t worry bro, I think she likes you too.”

Leo hates that his baby brother hadn’t even needed to say your name to get his point across. He has to wonder, after that, how much his brothers encourage you, because your pick up lines get progressively more risque. 

“Nice pants Leon! Think I can talk you out of them?”

“You look like you’re feeling down, want me to feel you up?” 

Halloween makes its appearance, and in line to a horror movie you turn to him and ask, “Are you a haunted house?” 

Leo squints at you. “Am I a haunted house? Where is this going?” 

“Cause I’d scream if you were in me.”

Leo turns nearly as red as the stripes over his eyes. 

“Too far?” you ask, also blushing. 

“Keep it up,” he chokes out. “Keep on playing games and you’ll find out.” 

“I don’t play games,” you tell him, both of you ignoring the way Raphael titters into his fist- clearly having heard the exchange. “I quit school cause of recess.” 

“Oof, that’s rough buddy.” 

He’s seeing your face a lot more when he jacks off though, and that is probably not a good thing. It’s there every time he closes his eyes and grips his cock, your name falling from his lips over and over like a chant or a prayer. 

Then it’s a cold and snowy winter, and you’ve apparently had time to find more material to use on him. 

“Had a doctor's appointment,” you tell him conversationally, flopping next to him on the couch, and he might be fooled if your lips weren’t already twitching. 

“Yeah? You need a lobotomy?” 

“Nah, Vitamin D deficiency. Think you can help?” 

“... Vitamin D…?” 

You just look at him, waiting, and finally it clicks. 

“Ah. Vitamin D, got it.” 

“D like dick,” you clarify. 

“It’s less funny if you have to explain it.” 

“But it is still funny, right?” 

“Mmmhmm, you’re a regular Jimmy Fallon.” 

“You take that the fuck back!” 

You’re hitting him on the arm, pressing fingers into his skin and making him laugh, and by the time his brothers join you in the living room he’s got you pinned on the couch, tickling your sides and telling you to say uncle. 

“Did we interrupt something?” Donnie asks with a smirk.

Leo shoots away from you, yelping “No!” at the same time you say “Yes!”

Leo takes a lot of hot showers that winter. 

Spring comes, and it finally happens. 

He’s supposed to stop by your apartment and portal you to the comic con, thereby avoiding all the pesky New York traffic from Brooklyn to Midtown. 

“Hold on,” you call from your bathroom. “Can’t decide on which Jupiter Jim shirt.” 

“Yeah, no rush!” 

He looks around, snooping in your fridge for a bottled water and chuckling when he sees you’ve hung up the photo booth pictures from last summer on your fridge. The two of you looked… happy. Leo looked happy. And you looked at him like he was the sun. Like he wasn’t broken or damaged.

You looked at him like you were in love.

From behind him, he hears you clear your throat, and with a glance over his shoulder he sees you standing with hands on hips and a smile. 

Something in Leo’s chest tightens. You’re so carefree. You’re so beautiful. You're his age, and you’d never had to worry about keeping your family safe. You didn’t have crows feet and a brow-chasm etched into your face from years of constant worry. Where Leo had spent the last handful of years bulking up so he’s be a veritable tank of a turtle, you were soft, pliant in all the places he was not

And yet… 

“Are you thirsty?” 

Here you were, about to use some awful, ridiculous pick up line on him. 

On him. 

“I’m broken.” 

He just says it, because he needs you to understand. 

Your smile falters a bit, lips tilting into a frown. 

“Uh… what?” 

“I’m broken. I don’t… I don’t know what you want from me.” 

And maybe that had been the issue all along. 

There is quiet that surrounds the two of you. 

“I don’t think you’re broken.” You say. 

You fiddle with the belt loops of your jeans, then add, “You know that we have met, right? Before all this?” 

Leo can only shake his head. 

“When… when Baxter sent out all those Mousers. You got a few of them off me, grabbed me up, and said- From one to America, how free are you tonight.” 

Leo can’t help but make a face. 

“Stop. I did not.” 

You give him a warbling little laugh. 

“Yeah, you did. And… even though it was a stupid little joke… I dunno. I wasn’t afraid anymore.” 

You’re just looking at him, and Leo wishes he could remember what you’ve recalled. He’d have been 20, maybe a little younger or a little older, and that tracked. Life had yet to wear him down fully at that point. Of course he’d saved some young, pretty girl, and made some dumb joke before portaling off to play hero.

“So when we met again… and you didn’t look happy… I guess I just wanted to…” 

You trail off, and Leo can’t help but ask, “Fix me?” 

“No,” you whisper with a shake of your head. “You aren’t broken. But… you’re afraid? I just wanted to make you… happy.” 

Leo does not cry. That would be stupid. In fact, he’s pretty sure he has allergies, because that is the best explanation for the way his throat seems to close up. 

He does grab you up though. Pulls you to his plastron and holds you there like you’re a life line. Like you’re a buoy in an endless ocean, shelter in a raging storm. 

He holds you tight and close, his grip on you firm, and when you rub your hands over the lip of his shell he has to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from sobbing into your neck like an actual baby. 

When he can speak without fear of his voice breaking, he clears his throat and asks, “So, on a scale of one to America-” 

Before he can finish you are pulling back, grabbing his cheeks, and standing on tiptoes to press your lips to his. 

“Forever, Leo. For you, I’m free forever.”

[sometimesiammybpd]

tw // mentions of suicide, self harm

when someone asks me how i'm doing, i default to "i'm okay." it's the safe answer. any less than okay and they get worried and any more than okay and they think i'm doing better than i am. because that question has gotten harder and harder and harder to answer as the years go on and it's because all i feel is rage and anger. or emptiness, but usually either one or the other or a mix of both. even when i have an off day or i wake up not feeling . . . the worst . . . i still don't really feel happy or okay. i just feel. i don't know.

i want to be okay. i want to be normal. i don't want to keep spending my days wondering why i can't be like everyone else. it's so tiring to feel like i'm forever emotionally stunted as a teenager because every little thing sets me off and makes me split. it makes me feel like i'll never have control over myself. and it makes the cycle so draining because i swear i am trying so hard to understand my issues and problems. i am trying so hard to work on them and become better even if i'm already decent, but it hurts when all i see is the definition of insanity. doing the same thing over and over and somehow expecting a different result. i don't enjoy snapping at people or feeling so much fucking hate all the time, but no matter what i do it doesn't feel like it'll ever go away. it's gotten me to a point where not only can i not trust anyone, i just don't even trust myself. i don't trust myself to be around my friends or be around my family and NOT because i'm abusive or anything but because i don't know when something will make me split and i don't want them to start seeing me as abusive. and i do admit, i don't know what form of BPD i have or if this is just anger issues or what but when i get set off into an episode and i'm starting to split badly, i just. i feel like i age regress to like three years old. because i start throwing things and yelling and screaming and my body starts to get hot because i'm getting so overwhelmed. and then if i get pushed enough, i either shut down, cry, or both. usually the first one. and when it happens at work, it makes it even worse. i literally had an episode that got me so fucked up that i kicked the hell out of the trash can in the office for 5-6 minutes, spewing trash everywhere, and then broke down crying because that's how overwhelming everything felt in the moment. i fucking hate it so much.

and i've tried to put it into words what an average day for me feels like now. besides my hypersexuality taking over half the time, i just feel rage and hatred unless i'm euphoric. i also feel like i've already contradicted myself a lot and honestly, how this reads is how it feels. it makes no fucking sense to me and it's. just.

yeah.

i don't know. i really don't know. the other thing that really makes living day-to-day so hard is that . . . well. all i ever think is that i'm faking everything. that i've somehow managed to convince myself and everyone around me for years that i have all these things wrong with me that i really don't. and i can only really explain parts of it. like, i don't feel the way other seem to feel with bpd. i think i said it earlier but i really don't cry. stress or overstimulation or whatever just comes out as rage or anger and i hate it. there have been many conversations with close friends where i've vented about just the fact that i can't cry (unless i get pushed so far that my emotions don't know what else to do).

the scariest part is all the things i don't have answers for, i don't even know if it'd be worth getting answers at this point. i know that not everything has answers and that's tiring on its own right but it scares me. because it falls into that same category. what if i don't deserve to know? what if this is my way of suffering after all the years of pain and suffering i caused others to go through? what if i'm not able to accept the answers? i mean, these are some of what goes through my head all the time. but it goes hand in hand with the whole "what if you're faking it" thing. i've felt that way since i was thirteen. i knew something was wrong, but i quickly grew to feel like it didn't matter because it was all because of me. if i could have some self-control, i'd be normal. if i wasn't so toxic, or abusive, or manipulative, or self-absorbed, or narcissistic, etc. it's all the same but it never stops hurting. and it's so hard trying to have people who don't live like this understand that this is what a normal day is like for me.

that on a normal day, i want to kill myself the entire time. i want to rip my arms apart and take everyone down with me. that i don't hate someone one moment and the next i wish them immediate suffering and that i never have to speak to them again (but then i take it back twenty minutes later because i'm no longer feeling that way). i actually learned of a new term that i didn't know of. around the time when i got diagnosed with bpd, i learned of the term NSSI. non-suicidal self injury. and it made a big part of me make sense for the first time in my entire life. hurting yourself because you need the thoughts to stop, not because you're trying to commit. i guess i can mention this here but i don't really hurt myself. at least not in the expected sense. i have before but usually only when things get so bad and i actually have access to it. most of the time though, i actually can just not do it. it's not that i don't feel like it's something i should be doing or i deserve it or whatever, but just because i can't move. like i'm hearing in my head: "do it. hurt yourself. who gives a shit about you anyways," and meanwhile i'm just sitting here to which someone on a first glance could say "oh, you seem okay." but i'm not. in that moment, i barely feel there.

i don't know. it's so hard to explain. sorry. this post probably doesn't make any sense. i don't have much left to write because what i have put down already was so hard to get out there. and i hope my posts don't just come off as only complaining or whatever. i don't want to take my life most days in a serious sense. i've learned i definitely have passive suicidal ideation, but yeah. i wanted to at one point which then stretched for a long time. but not anymore. i worry a lot about being too negative.

always wanna say, dms on here are open if anyone needs someone to talk to /gen.

[celestialship]

Just One Night

An exhausted Meg allows Johnny Silverhand to take over her body for the night - and then has to deal with the consequences.

word count: 2,400

content warning: swearing, violence, suggestive material?

1 hour left until the meet.

Meg sat in her apartment in Japantown, the plush seats of the couch cushions doing nothing to make her body feel any less like it had been run over by a car and then subsequently dragged through the streets of Night City. Hunched over where she sat and running her hands through her hair in an attempt to self-soothe, Meg doubted at this point she’d be feeling any better before the meet with the client. 

What day was it? Thursday? Meg had been awake for almost 2 days. Sure, they’d gotten a couple winks between jobs, but it was never more than an hour. Meg’s body was aching for a good night’s sleep, but Meg needed the eddies and the jobs were coming in steady. Who knew how long it’d be before work was this consistent again?

“I can feel it too, y’know.” The sudden voice and materialization of Johnny Silverhand a couple feet away nearly made Meg jump out of her chrome in surprise, and she cursed under her breath at how easily startled she was. The ghost of the infamous terrorist appeared out of the corner of her eye, leaning back against the wall of her apartment, arms crossed and adjusting his sunglasses on his face. Meg had to wonder if he was actively trying to look cool, or if it was always that effortless. “You feel like shit, Meg.”

“Thanks,” Meg grumbled. Before Johnny Silverhand’s engram was put into her brain, allowing her and only her to see the supposed dead rocker, Meg’s voice was the sole one in her head that she had to tell to shut up from time to time. Now she had two voices.

“Didn’t mean it like an insult, just statin’ a fact. You’re exhausted.”

“You think I don’t know that?” Meg snapped, groaning and rubbing their eyes.

“Would ya let me finish? Christ,” Johnny scoffed. He moved away from the wall and glitched out of Meg’s vision, reappearing directly in front of her, causing Meg to almost jump again. Not this time. “Let me take over.”

“Excuse me?” Meg glared.

“You’re exhausted, you’ve been up for nearly two days at this point. Yet you still have jobs lined up.” Johnny shook his head in a supposed empathetic manner, but Meg was skeptical as to how genuine it was. “If you let me take over, I can do all the jobs for you, you get some rest in the back of your head.”

“No way,” Meg snapped, but Johnny saying the word “rest” made her body ache with longing. Being able to check out sounded really nice, but letting Johnny Silverhand’s personality in the engram in her head, take control of her body? This was the terrorist who blew up Arasaka tower before flatlining. Who knew what he would decide to do on a whim with Meg?

“Come on, Meg, it’s just for one night.” Johnny was practically whining like a schoolboy. “One night. ‘Sides, don’t you trust me, after all we’ve been through?”

“No.”

“I know you’re lying. Ya don’t hate me nearly as much as you may think. In fact, I think you’ve come around on me a lot. You may even like me.”

“Johnny, don’t fuck with me. You’re not going to be good and just do my work for me. What’s even in it for you?” Meg retorted.

Johnny put a hand to his chest and took off his sunglasses to look into her eyes. “Well, Meg, I care. I just want you to get some rest.”

“Fuck off.”

“Okay, well, maybe it’s getting annoying sharing a body with you while you’re sore and aching and acting like a brat,” Johnny shot back. There it was. There was Silverhand’s real personality. “And yes, okay, maybe I will treat myself to a drink or two. But I won’t get you shitfaced or in any real trouble. I have to share a body with you, remember? I’ll be dealing with the consequences, too.”

“Well, I appreciate the honesty,” Meg muttered. She slouched on the couch, staring at the floor. Time was ticking. She felt half-dead. How badly did she want to take a shot at some rest? Was she really going to let Johnny Silverhand front for the night, possibly risking her reputation as a merc, her chances of a severe hangover, and whatever else he had in store?

But rest…

“Just one night, Megs. You know I won’t do anything to hurt you. You actually may like it.”

The way he said it made the hair on Meg’s neck stand on end. Maybe it was a small enough response that he didn’t notice or feel it. “Okay, okay, one night.” They could see Johnny’s face light up in response. “One night. But Johnny, if you do anything to fuck me over–”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, Meg.” He flashed a smile, which was a rare occurrence. But Johnny was about to be back in the world for the first time in decades. Meg’s nerves spiked a little as she thought to herself: any average “ghost” would probably go crazy if they were allowed back into the world of the living. How crazy would Johnny Silverhand go? 

But Meg had to trust him. Trust him enough for one night. Besides, they were so tired. Letting Johnny do their work for the night would at least allow the night to go by faster as they slipped into the back of their mind, and maybe they’d be able to come to and immediately go to sleep. “Fine. It’s all yours.”

“Your body, you mean? Thank you, Meg. I’ll take good care of you.”

What was with this teasing? Meg didn’t have time to think of it more, though, because she slipped into unconsciousness.

***

Well, total unconsciousness would be a lie. Meg saw bits of the night. The entire night.

First there was a flash of the meet. Meg speaking in Meg’s voice, but not using their own words. The client seemed a little afraid. Meg left the meet with a hunger stirring in their chest, a zeal that Meg had not felt in…had she ever felt that enthusiastic? 

Then came the gunfire. Meg watched through her eyes as members of a street gang hit the floor while she stormed through a warehouse, bullets going through one head after another. After finding a man in a back office, Meg put a knife to his neck, took a datashard from his hand, then slit his throat.

Eddies transferred in exchange for the datashard. Now Meg was headed into a new building, greeting a man who had an operating chair and a computer hooked up to it. A ripperdoc - a man who could work on the body with cybernetics or other body modifications. What was happening…?

Just as quickly Meg’s vision flashed to a nightclub. Meg walked in as a bartender greeted her, and she watched herself cut the bartender off to order a drink. Then another. Then another. Then another…

Then, having more difficulty seeing reality now, Meg was surrounded by loud music, flashing lights, pushing bodies. As someone shoved her, and Meg returned the shove with a punch to the face, all hell broke loose. Then darkness.

***

Blinking her eyes open, Meg was greeted with a fan slowly spinning overhead on the ceiling. The room was dark, the lights all shut off and curtains closed, and Meg felt a soft mattress beneath her back. Somehow she had managed to get home. Slowly sitting up, Meg hissed in pain as she was immediately greeted by a headache, which seemed to creep all the way down her body. How did Meg feel even worse than yesterday?

Medicine. They needed these body aches gone or they would be out of commission all day long. Meg forced their body to move, pushing their feet to the floor and rising to their full height, slowly stumbling to the bathroom. As they looked down at their body, they realized they were also in their pajamas: an old crop top and some comfortable shorts. It was like their body had been half punished, half gently taken care of, by–

Johnny. As Meg recollected their absence of memories of the night, hot anger flashed in their chest. He said he wouldn’t go crazy. He said he wouldn’t do anything to hurt her. Yet here she was, with a migraine and shooting, throbbing pain all throughout her body.

“Johnny,” she called out, intending it to sound angry, but it honestly sounded kind of pathetic. But he adhered to her call, materializing behind her in the bathroom mirror.

“You called?” he asked in a mock bow, before seeing her expression and realizing he was in deep shit. He immediately straightened himself up.

“What...did you do?” Meg demanded, propping herself with a hand on the sink as she rifled through the medicine cabinet.

“I took care of your job for you. You’re welcome.” Johnny said this firmly, as if he had been planning on this being his exact response, nothing more and nothing less.

“You’re welcome? I feel worse than yesterday, Johnny. I thought you were all about letting me rest.” Meg found the pain relievers and poured out two pills to take.

“Hey, not my fault if you just can’t handle me taking your body.”

“Fuck you, it’s more than a matter of ‘handling’ it. I saw bits of what you did, Johnny. You went out drinking - more drinking than what I’m used to doing - and got into fights, and killed more people than I would’ve liked–”

“Hey, you’re the one who gave up control, I just did what I thought was appropriate. And maybe I let you have some fun, Meg. You never let yourself have fun.”

“That’s not fun to me! I don’t do that shit because I don’t want to deal with the aftermath, with all of this!” Meg stopped her ranting by taking the pills, and Johnny took the silence to immediately butt back in.

“You didn’t die! I got you home, I got you in bed with the lights off for the inevitable hangover, I got you in your pajamas–”

“Wait, you changed my clothes?”

Johnny leaned his head back in a groan. “Christ, Meg, don’t be such a fucking girl scout. I–live–in–your–head!” Johnny tapped either side of his head to emphasize each word. “I’ve seen your body hundreds of times.”

Meg supposed she hadn’t thought about that before somehow, but thinking of it now made her face grow red, which made her scowl in turn, realizing it was hurting her image of being angry and having any sort of leverage over Johnny. “Whatever.” That was the closest she’d come to dropping the argument or thanking him for the bit of consideration he showed her. The anger was beginning to fade slightly - maybe her exhaustion just made it difficult for her to stay mad - but then she glanced down at her arm.

As Meg saw it, she suddenly remembered the part of the night where Johnny visited the ripperdoc. There on Meg’s right inner elbow was a big heart in black ink, with an arrow going through it, and text on the inside.

“JOHNNY + MEG”

If Meg was angry before, now she was furious. Livid. “WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO?” She shouted so loudly she was sure any neighbors could hear her screaming at the man inside her head.

Looking at Johnny for any kind of explanation, she just saw the rockerboy press his lips together, as if he had forgotten that he permanently marked her body without her knowledge. “Oh, yeah. That. …Surprise.”

“Surprise? That’s what you have to say to this?!” Meg held her arm up, rubbing at the tattoo and praying to whatever god was possibly alive that it wasn’t permanent. It was.

“You don’t like it?” Johnny asked, tilting his head.

“You really think I’m the type of woman to put a man’s name on my body?!” Her heart was pounding, and she could hardly figure out what argument to first raise about this. “Everyone’s going to think I’m with a man named Johnny!”

Johnny’s eyes widened, as if he had somehow not even considered this, and then a smile spread on his face, looking entirely too satisfied about this outcome. “Oh, really?”

“Yeah, really!” Meg shot back. “Who’s ever going to want to go out with someone with a tattoo like this? If I even had the time to–”

“Maybe I don’t want you to,” Johnny muttered.

This stopped Meg in her tracks. “Excuse me?”

Johnny hesitated, only for a second, but enough for Meg to notice. Then he scoffed. “Did you forget we’re essentially sharing a body, Meg? You really think it’d be comfortable for me to just be here dormant while you’re getting involved with someone?”

“It’s my body!” Meg retorted.

“Whatever. You know a ripperdoc could probably remove that tattoo anyway, if you hate it so much.” Johnny glitched out from where he stood and reappeared sitting on the edge of the bathtub. 

There was silence between the two. Silence from Johnny - did he realize he may have gone a bit too far? Was this the closest he’d come to apologizing, ceasing to defend himself against Meg?

Meg sighed. She really didn’t feel like arguing anymore. Truthfully, she never liked arguing with Johnny, because she’d always feel worried about him being mad at her. Why she cared, she could never figure out. Maybe because like Johnny said, they were stuck “sharing” a body - even if it was, at the end of the day, her body. And she knew that Johnny knew that. And respected that. He was right - a ripperdoc could take the tattoo out. Tattoos were never truly permanent.

“I’m going back to bed,” she muttered, putting an end to the heated exchange. She didn’t feel like rushing out to remove the tattoo. She could get it removed whenever she felt like it. Maybe some other day, when she had the free time. She never had free time. Her free time was best spent sleeping anyway.

“Sweet dreams,” Johnny muttered back, also seeming tired of the argument.

Meg walked back towards the bathroom door, but glanced back at Johnny before walking out. “...Thank you for getting me back home safely.”

Johnny looked up at her and gave a sincere nod. “Anytime, Megs.”

[siriannatan]

Thunderous Confessions - fWhipSausage

I felt an urge to give fWhip my borderline fear of strong rain and thunderstorms and after short thought decided to make it into WitherHusbands propaganda..

And now I have an urge to write dragonSausagePix fic...

fWhip's luck has ran out. Why must it rain on the day he had to host stupid Emperors Meeting? And why did it have to change into a storm when Sausage was the only one still in his mansion aside from himself due to their trade talks taking forever?

And why, in Blood Sheep's sake did the thunder have to be so loud? And rain so strong as it hit the rattling in wind, tightly shut window shutters? And why can he not control himself from shaking every time the dumb thunder roared?

Sausage of course was fine. The half-dragon was always damn perfect. At least, even if he did notice, he didn't comment on how skittish fWhip got. "You okay?" Maybe he did notice...

"Yes," fWhip said too quickly. Internally wincing at how tense he sounded. "The damn weather is making my knee hurt," he forced himself to smile, squeezing his cane as another thunder roared outside. "Perfect... Ahhh," he was about to carry on with excuses when one of the shutters flew open with loud snap of the lock.

He didn't notice when he curled up under the table, hands over his head, until Sausage gently pulled him out. "Are you sure you're okay?" He asked but fWhip could only stare at his personal hell raging outside, lit up only by thunder. Shaking in Sausage's strong arms. "Let's get you somewhere without broken shutters," the half-dragon hummed almost affectionately. Like he was worried for fWhip as an important person and not just a good ally and leader of the WRA.

For some bizarre reason Sausage carried the shaking human and his cane to his bedroom. How did he know where it was? Was it even his intended destination or just the first room he decided was for enough from the small meeting room they were in earlier.

At least the shutters here were sturdier than anywhere else and fWhip could bury himself and his remaining dignity in a pile of blankets. Well, he would if Sausage took his perfect and handsome self somewhere else. Which he did not. Instead he helped fwhip out his scarf, gently put his crown off and rested it on his dresser. He even helped him out his shoes and vest. "You should be more comfortable now," the knight-king grinned, showing off his sharp teeth. "Feeling better," he asked as he looked around for something.

"I'll be fine..." fWhip stared but froze as another thunder roared, seemingly closer. "You can go and be handsome somewhere else..." He grumbled, not really meaning to say it out loud. He was so busy burying himself in blankets and shaking he missed the way Sausage froze.

"You meant it? When you called me handsome?" fWhip would jump out his bed as someone settled behind him. But Sausage's arm gently wrapped around his waist stopped it. "I'm not mad just... You always look like you're angry at me so it was a bit of a surprise..." Sausage sighed, and fWhip could swear his face was in his hair. His damn, always messy hair.

"I... I did mean it..." fWhip admitted quietly. "And I'm never angry, just... Frustrated I guess. At how perfect you are all the time and stuff..." He rambled, shutting up as Sausage's hold on him tightened slightly. "You can go to your room I'll be okay..." He sighed, ready for their relationship to shift to pure business from this half friendship they had going on so far.

Sausage did not leave. He just lay there, all warm and handsome and relaxing. One wing covering them in sort of half coccoon. "I love you fWhip..." He confessed as if it wasn't worse tha the hell outside the mansion. "I've had for a very long time... You're amazing and... I might always try my best to impress you..." He carries on talking, making fWhip feel more and more like jumping out the window.

His dumb feelings were returned? He had some microscopic change at wooing the man of his too many dreams? No way... "You're not joking to distract me?" fWhip could feel his heart beating at at least twice it's normal rate. "Because I'll never forgive you if you do," he huffed as he awkwardly turned around to face Sausage. Yup. Still stupidly handsome. "I'll never forgive you if you break my heart..." He did his best to glare with how shaken he was by everything.

"I would literally fight this storm for you," Sausage said with far too determined of an expression.

"Please don't... And I love you too, you idiot..." fWhip sighed and hid his face in his chest. It just felt appropriate at the moment, as he clung to the half dragon as close as possible until they both fell asleep.

Only waking up when worried Gem and Pearl barged in since no one knew where Sausage is, least of all his court. "Let the man sleep," Sausage yawned stretching and showing off that at some point his shirt vanished as fWhip burned with embarrassment. Not a way he wanted Gem to find out about his new relationship.

[microwaving-tesilid-argente]

Ephael as a character is kind of crazy because he's the most laidback and cheerful guy in the whole series, he's described to have a perpetual smile on his face, he takes all of Hestio's snide remarks in his stride, he always keeps his cool during critical situations, and he doesn't swear when even Tesilid does. And then he does shit like come up with Plan B, and when the topic of the Vatican's absurb control over them comes up he turns into a bitter, snapping creature full of spite. And then half a beat later he turns back into his cheerful goofy self and makes fun of Hestio.

Novel 13 (after Ailette's first divine advent):

E: "What about all those times they said we were going to be the ones to save the world?"

H: Sounding much less bitter, his friend reasoned, "We're better off this way. Saving the world really isn't my thing. I might as well leave the church now."

E: "Pfft, how are you going to leave? You think the religious order is going to let us just pack up and go?"

H: "Yeah. Why not?"

E: "Yeah, no way that's happening." The blonde boy said dismissively. "They're going to work us like dogs even after world peace has been achieved. We're nothing more to them than pawns to keep the Vinchester Kingdom and Ragneif Republic of Magic at bay. That's the whole reason why they take in orphans, so that they could graft stigmata onto us."

Novel 19 (morning of the Day of Sacrifice):

“Only motherless, fatherless mutts like us should be here. Ah, how sad.”

He is like, 10 years old. What has he been through that he's so much more bitter than Hestio "yells at everything" Ligenel.

I'm honestly kind of wondering if Irinbi just hadn't figured out Hestio & Ephael's characterisation back then, or if Tapas screwed up the novel TL. It's a little weird that Ephael was the one explaining why there's no way the Vatican would let them go, when in every interaction since then he's always been the clueless guy who doesn't know a thing about dungeons so that a character can explain the worldbuilding to the readers. And in the webcomic they did swap lines for this part in Ch 13. Ephael's lines here do sound exactly like something Hestio would say, ngl. But Ephael being extremely pressed about his lot in life and wanting to return to the secular life is also a very consistent part of his characterisation since then, so like??? What goes on.