#if he really hunkers down and like makes a life for himself

[girlnadian]

i seriously cannot stop thinking about theo and ken just take it. some off screen moments for them

786 words // divider

Theo is a large, solid weight against the line of Ken's back, pressed close with one hand around Ken's bicep and the other holding a netherite sword just above their tail. He's still huffing angrily as they pass through the walls around the base, avoiding Wardens and Elder Guardians as they go. It's really not a great build, Ken thinks—he's not sure why Wemmbu was so surprised it didn't work.

Ken's feet hit the water with a harmless splash. Theo is right behind them as soon as they crawl out of the water, but his shoulders have visibly deflated. He doesn't make any move to round up his "hostage" again. Ken tries not to snicker.

"I didn't mean any of that," Theo says, not-quite apologetic but just a bit guilty. "You can leave."

Ken fails. They snort, leaning forward to look up at Theo under the barrier of his helmet. "Really? I'm not pretty enough to be a hostage anymore?"

Theo places a hand on Ken's forehead and shoves them away. It's with more force than Ken was expecting, but they manage to stay upright even if they stumble and yelp.

"Knock it off," Theo says. "I'm trying to be nice!"

"I was having fun, though," Ken pouts, and then dodges another shove towards their face. "You made me get naked and now you're telling me to leave?"

"Dude."

"Alright, alright," not that Ken's actually worried about Theo's reaction, but he is about to go into a fight—assuming Wemmbu shows up, that is. Ken wouldn't be that surprised if he didn't, threat on Ken's life or not. Either way, it's probably better not to distract Theo too much. Instead, Ken busies themself with strapping on their armor and getting their elytra over their shoulders. Theo watches passively. Ken reaches over again to pinch his cheek.

"Don't die," they say kindly. Theo pulls a face like he's offended, but Ken launches into the air before he can get a word in.

They stick around. Theo is good enough at PvP to not get himself killed, Ken knows that, but that doesn't mean they aren't curious about what will happen. They hunker down in a hastily made shack, far enough away that they're reasonably sure the fight won't carry over here but nearby enough that they should be able to catch Theo leaving, assuming he leaves in the same direction he came from. It must be a long fight, though, because by the time Ken hears that tell-tale sound of rockets, they're dozing off against one of their shulkers.

Feet hit the ground right outside the door. Theo bursts in at the same time that Ken yawns.

"You don't look like you won," they observe. Theo's armor is banged up, but he doesn't look too bad… He's not bleeding profusely, anyway. Theo's proud, though, bordering on egotistical—if he had won, he'd be swaggering around like a mafia don. That's too bad.

Theo doesn't respond, just stumbles over and starts digging through the shulker Ken had previously been draped over. Ken lets him, tail idly swaying in the air behind them; they put it out for Theo, anyway. He digs out golden apples, a few bottles of enchanting, ender pearls—anything he's low on—and then promptly falls back on his ass so they're both sitting on the floor.

"Sorry for taking you hostage," Theo says.

"You apologized for that already."

"No, I didn't."

Once more, Ken reaches over, gently digging his claws into one of Theo's headwings until the avian twists and flutters. "You apologized enough. I could tell. It's fine, Wemmbu also threatened to kill me. Unlike you, he probably would have."

"He did?" Theo sounds a bit miserable. Ken shrugs.

They lapse into silence. Ken settles back into their spot and allows Theo to lick his wounds in peace. They're not good enough with people to know what Theo's thinking, but they could wager a guess, maybe: for people like Theo, it's always about strength. The Farlands are long behind them, and Ken thinks much more highly of Theo now than they ever could have imagined they would a few months ago, but Theo has been, is, and always will be a warrior at heart. Losing was probably a bigger blow than any mace hit.

Ken could never understand it, though. They think about Wemmbu insisting their base stay in the same spot. The pursuit of strength and sentimentality lead people to irrational places so fast.

"Thanks for listening to me," Ken says, "about not dying, I mean."

Theo's body untenses, just a little, wings hitting the floor with a dull thump where they had previously been rigid in the air. "Sure, no problem."

Ken will take it.

[dear-someone-letterstomyself]

Does anyone else think Arun gives really strong Alexis Rose vibes? Is anyone else really excited about this?? No? Just me? Mkay….

[ittybittyfanblog]

Error 404: (Self-Aware!AU, Sylus Edition)

Summary: A LADS self-aware!AU featuring Sylus (+ maybe the other MLs!) and an oblivious player. That’s it, that’s the plot. Tags: player!reader x sylus, fem!reader x sylus, reader x lads, maybe some suggestive language?? will add more tags as the story progresses A/N: This is gonna be a multi-chapter fic! I’m still not sure whether to do the boys in rotation, or just focus on one ML per series. Don’t take my word for it atp tho – I’m not even sure if I can actually finish a series lol.  Also, I’ve had the creative liberty of changing stuff from the actual gameplay here and there. (Except for the self-awareness. That’s most definitely real.) Hope you enjoy~!

Pt. 1 - Pt. 2 - Pt. 3 - Pt. 4 - Pt. 5 - Pt. 6 - Pt. 7 - Pt. 8 - Pt. 9 - Pt. 10

It’s a quarter past eight and you’re still on your desk working overtime on a Friday night. 

You let out a big sigh, leaning back on your office chair after an unhealthy duration of bad posture from hours of slouching down in front of your computer. There’s nothing ergonomic about the way this job is killing you, and the ache in your lower back can attest to that. 

An irate orange tabby plops himself in front of you, blocking your view of the glaring screen and you figure that it’s time for a break. 

“Me-oow.”

“I know, I know,” You answer tiredly, standing up to dodge a stray paw clawing your way and you hear cracks in three different places that are honestly unbecoming of a woman your age. You haven’t even reached thirty yet, for god’s sake. “I’m a bad mother. But mom also had to skip dinner to make it to the seven PM meeting, so cut me some slack, okay?” 

A high-pitched “meooowr!” is the only response you get; it seems like there’s no excusing late dinner time this time around. 

As much as you’d like to hem and haw and complain, the main reason why you’re still keeping this job is because you can work remotely. If it weren’t for the fact that you’re stuck most days at home working hours past your regular nine to five, having to be on-call around the clock at all times, and that you’ve consumed more sodium than a nitrite victim with the way you live off cup ramen, then, really, it beats working in an office where you’d physically have to clock in and out from exactly nine to five. 

Your right eye twitches. No, I have not fallen in love with the system that exploits me, thank you very much. 

“Here is your Fancy Feast, your highness,” you tell the hungry feline who’s already ignoring the hand that feeds for the bowl full of white fish paté. He eats healthier than you, sure, but you work like this for him to eat like this. The life of a single mom is an uphill battle, but extremely rewarding. 

You raise your hand to pat your son’s head lovingly, aborting the gesture halfway when you hear a warning growl. Alright, tough crowd. 

After nuking a half-eaten takeout box in the microwave and grabbing a cold Bundaberg from the fridge, you hunker down on the “chaise lounge” (see: an old wingback and a rattan ottoman you’ve refurbished as a makeshift seat a few weeks back when you had guests over) for a late meal. 

You barely register the taste of lukewarm rice on your tongue, mouth moving mechanically while your mind runs on autopilot about everything and nothing at the same time. 

Maybe it’s time to check Jobstreet again

Is there like a laundromat near the area that’s open twenty four seven

Eugh, I hate cold peas

What do we feel about Chromakopia? 

I will… die alone

I really need to stock on some fresh produce this weekend—

Ping! 

A notification from your phone pulls you out of your thoughts—and like a well-trained dog pavlov’d into responding, you visibly perk up at the sight of your lock screen lighting up and the familiar banner you’ve already memorized by heart. 

Your Galaxy Explorer rewards are here. Did you put my hotel’s address as the shipping address? 

Ah, just like clockwork. 

You press on it with a quiet, bubbling anticipation, chewing on the plastic spork as you wait impatiently for the silly mobile game that’s been your short respite at intervals—for more than you’d care to admit—to boot up. 

Offhandedly, you wish that the devs would add more variations to the game’s push notifications; more random, personalized stuff like maybe a reminder to drink water, or a fun update about their day. What you’d give–pay–for a: "Less on the overtime, kitten. I miss you,” dialogue from a certain character, but you digress. 

Oh, well. Probably better this way, lest you dig yourself deeper into delusion. 

The game greets you with the usual picturesque view of a silver-haired man sitting cross-legged on a chair, looking all the bit at ease in his signature crimson and white button up. The warm ambience of the Destiny Café at night draws you in, already pulling your attention away from the never-ending stream of thoughts in your brain. 

“Before seeing you, I thought today would be another dull day,“ Sylus comments airily. The way he drawls out the words in that deep timbre of his voice never fails to make your heart flutter – just a teeeensy bit.

“Ever the charmer,” you sigh happily in return, situating yourself more comfortably on the sofa, almost horizontal from how far you’re leaning back on the cushion. “You’re looking awfully normal tonight. What, no pineapple glasses for your favorite girl?” 

Having bypassed the initial cringe of talking to yourself after literal months of gameplay, it almost comes off natural, the banter. You’ve already accepted the fact that you’re crazy about a fictional, pixelated man—what’s pretending to have actual conversations with him gonna do? It’s not as if he actually hears you yap your nonsense; there are worse things in the world than a parasocial attachment to an otome game character. 

Your little jab at the sometimes random addition to his choice of attire earns you a laugh from the man itself—or at least it looks as though it does, making you blink momentarily in surprise. Happy coincidence, I guess.

You shake your head, cracking a smile, then proceed to do the routine of completing the daily agenda and then some. 

It’s tedious business, sure. You’ve dedicated hours upon hours on this game and you’re honestly starting to feel pretty bored with some of the gameplay elements, but you *do* like the ritualistic nature of ticking off the tasks one by one. It’s almost ironic— the way you dutifully do one thing after the other in this game, just to avoid the pile of work that’s waiting for you in real life. 

It’s not as if anything, or anyone’s relying on you to do your daily log-ins, so you suppose it’s due to that lack of pressure as well. 

Pulling yourself away from the five-star Xavier memory card you’ve grinded to level seventy, you stare despondently at the sad little 2 on your remaining energy. The embarrassing amount of materials you lack to ascend the card seem to mock you, even as you exit the Memories window. Another goal for another day, perhaps.

All tasks on the daily agenda are complete, except for one that you’ve always saved for last.

You’re met with a standing Sylus on the game’s home screen, arms crossed and wearing an expression you’d almost describe as impatient, if you didn’t know any better. The sight makes you grin. 

Cheekily, you poke his crotch.

You’re looking forward to getting a playful remark, or if you’re lucky, a blush along with an embarrassed retort about your shamelessness. 

 What you get, however, is a resounding scoff. Your eyes snap back to his face – from, ahem, your prolonged staring at the area below his waist – and you do see the familiar tinge of pink on his cheeks, but what he says in response catches you off-guard.

“You spend that much resource for a card that isn’t mine?” Sylus tsks, both his voice and expression coming across as… affronted? “Kitten, I’m actually hurt.” 

Huh?

You haven’t heard that line from him before. Was there a recent update you weren’t aware of? The man in question then appears to look amused, from the way you’ve been rendered speechless by the unexpected dialogue. 

All at once, you gasp when you realize what the new response means. 

“That’s so smart,” you say giddily. You see Sylus cock his head to the side, synchronously quirking an eyebrow—expectant. “They actually added a feature that lets them know which memory I’ve upgraded last, and make you react to it. Oh, that’s so cool!” 

If you weren’t too busy being excited over what you think is a new update from the game,  you’d see the chagrined look on Sylus’ face. But when you glance back at him, all trace of the emotion is gone before you could notice anything different. 

“Don’t worry, Crow Man. You’re still my favorite,” you assure him, making his mouth tick upwards in a semblance of a smile. He looks pleased all of the sudden, his demeanor shifting into something more relaxed.

Then a pout forms on your face. You crinkle your nose in frustration as you complain, “It’s just really hard to level your cards up at this point. It takes ages and a shit ton of energy just to level you up past seventy five.” Sighing, you add, kind of bitterly, “And I’m too broke to be spending money on growth packs.” 

Checking the time on your phone, you see that you’ve already spent more than an hour on your self-imposed break time and you know that you ought to get back to work soon. With a groan, you pull yourself to sit upright, savoring the last few minutes of free time before you slave off for the rest of the night. 

You’re about to clean up what’s left of dinner when you notice the oddly thoughtful look on Sylus’ face. 

There’s a deep furrow in his brows as he brings a hand up to cover his mouth. He closes his eyes shut for a few seconds. He's never done that gesture before... Ugh, he looks really hot–

Suddenly, you see a flicker— then a weird, sort of graphic distortion happening in the background. Uh, what??

A beat; then a glitch on the screen. “Ah, shit.” 

The game crashes.

You exhale loudly as the game’s interface goes back to the loading screen, tapping your thumb impatiently as the bar slowly loads to 15%... 50%..... 81%....... 

“Maybe make sure to patch up first before releasing an update next time, jeez— Huh?” 

For a quick second, nothing seems to be amiss. But then the first thing you see on the home screen is Sylus’ figure standing before you, wearing an expression one could only describe as a cat that ate the proverbial canary. 

He speaks— and it’s another intro you haven’t heard him say, ever. 

“You should’ve told me sooner, sweetie,” he almost coos the words out, making your eyes bug out in shock. 

“Now, why don’t you go check your–” he pauses, and his mouth moves as if he’s rolling the word out, testing it. “Inventory?” 

Sylus slides his gaze towards the upper left corner of the screen, a coy smirk still ever-present on his face. 

There, you see something you haven’t noticed earlier: two notification badges. One on your mailbox, and another on the Hunter’s Info tab. Bewildered, you press on the mail icon first, despite the insistence for you to start with the latter. 

You see a new message: [For You]

A small gift, to bridge our worlds closer. – S 

Nothing is attached to it. You read it twice, perplexed.  

“You’re quite the contradictorian, aren’t you?” Sylus tuts as soon as you return back to the home screen, his gaze boring into you even when he tilts his head sideways in mock exasperation. “Mmm, I suppose it doesn’t matter. Take all the time you need, sweetheart.” 

Helplessly, you open your inventory next. 

Your jaw drops. 

“What. The fuck,” You whisper to yourself, voice wavering in disbelief at what you’re seeing, and the sheer amount of what you’re seeing. “This– this can’t be real.” 

You see that all the materials you own, from the bottle of wishes to the ascension crystal boxes, have been multiplied a hundred times over.

And on top of that–

Ninety nine thousand red dias????

You cannot believe how this—this recent… update (or is it a bug? Infold sure isn’t this generous) didn't make the news. Even as someone as uninvolved as you are with the community and the game’s latest releases, something like this for sure would’ve made headlines on Twitter (X), at least. But you haven’t heard anything. Nada. 

Holy shit. 

You feel a little light-headed, both from incredulity and excitement. Needing a moment to calm yourself down, you exit the Inventory tab in a daze.

You stare at Sylus. He stares back at you with what looks to be mirth in his eyes. 

Skeptically, you mutter, “did–did I get hacked or something?” 

Anticipating another unexpected dialogue to prompt up, you wait for a full minute without saying anything else. And for a moment, the man in front of you looks indecisive, contemplative. 

There’s something very odd, very… human in the way he’s looking at you. He looks as if– as if he’s—

His face falls back into a neutral expression. Not unlike how his idle animation usually looks. 

..

…

….. It doesn’t seem like he’s going to initiate a conversation any time soon, so you hesitantly poke him on the nose. 

“Even in the worst-case scenario, there’s no need to panic.”

You’ve heard that one before.

So he’s back to normal now. You temper the small disappointment that blooms in your gut. 

Shaking your head slowly, you try to make sense of all the stuff that just happened, but a sharp bite on your ankle pulls you out of your reverie. 

“Ow–!” The sight of your cat flopping near your feet reminds you of the time. More importantly, the backlogs waiting for you at your desk. 

���Wait, shit– I gotta get back to work.” This… unbelievable stroke of good luck (?) is gonna have to take a backseat for now.

You grab the carton box and the half-empty bottle of sparkling peach as you stand up. Making quick work of throwing the container in the trash and gulping down the rest of your drink, you rush into your room and back in front of your PC. 

Cracking your knuckles, you gingerly set your phone against the monitor. Setting the timer to one hour in Quality Time, knowing fully-well that you’re going to have to keep extending it until the wee hours of the morning—or until your battery dies, whichever comes first—you give Sylus one last look, letting out a long exhale before locking in.

“Just keep me company for the night, alright? I’ll figure out what’s going on once my shift’s over.” 

-

It could just be your overactive imagination, but you swear you hear a quiet chuckle from the man polishing his gun in your peripheral.

[jinxthequeergirl]

The Ol switcharoo (pt3)

Stan pines x reader/ ford pines x reader

Summary: 30 years pass and you meet stanfords family.

Warning: NONE

Sorry for another short chapter. Consider this a filler episode. Chapter four should be better.

~~~~~~~~☆~~~~~~

30 years is a long time.

You can do a lot in that time.

You can live a lot of different lives in 30 years.

You started cutting your hair in that time, Stanford taught you to box, You'd gone on many different adventures. Most of which you often questioned the legality of, but they still made you laugh.

Now you mainly tended to the Mystery shack no more adventures, you wondered as you sat on the couch next to Stanford when you'd gotten so old. And when your life had changed so much.

You had almost forgotten all about anything before your family vacation. you and Stanford had grown into a pretty comfortable life together. You wouldn't lie you'd come to love the life you've grown into with him.

But you've also missed the adventures you used to go on, finding monsters , exploring the unknown.

But you were only met with gluing eyeballs to pieces of plastic halloween decorations and making up stories to make out of towns folk get a good laugh in.

You had tried to find Stanfords journals just to "relive the glory days" but with no luck.

You were never sure what happened to them, if he had accidentally tossed them out, if he had lost them himself or if that was part of what happened while you where away. Either way you stopped looking. You never asked about them either.

Stanford seemed to really enjoy his life with you too, you never got the idea he wanted to turn back or like he was waiting for some big adventure.

"This may sound corny but you and the mystery shack are my big adventure...I wouldn't trade you or the old shack for anything y/n. Not. For. ANYTHING."

So you stopped worrying yourself with the journals or the old research, let alone the real monsters that lurked in the woods.

You hunkered down, sold stories and bumper stickers in your matching suits and watched night time television before falling asleep on top of eachother every night.

This was the routine you'd fallen into. You found it odd if you had to sleep without Stanfords shoulder as your pillow or his jolt of laughter before he realized you fell asleep. It was odd for both of you to not debate who got giftshop duity over tour duties. (You always got gift shop.)

It was odd when a pair of twins arrived on your front lawn.

"You never talk about your family." You said following Stanford down the stairs to meet them. "Sure I do." He said clearly a little nervous.

"Mmm no...I didn't know you had a sister! Let alone great neices and nephews!..excuse us, Soos." You say almost chasing him through the gift shop almost knocking soos over.

He paused as both of you looked out the little door window at them. "Listen...I'm sorry I didn't tell you about my family... to be fair... we aren't really close..but somethings came up and-" You could see his stress building up as he tried to piece together something that made you understand how important it was to make a good impression on those kids.

You placed a hand on his shoulder. "I'm here with you... you can explain it all later, but right now, I'm right by your side, like always." He smiled and placed a hand on top of yours.

Before heading outside to me, you are in tow.

"I DIDN'T KNOW I HAD A GREAT AUNT! A GRANT!? A GRRR...GRAUNT!?" The girl in the pair shouted excitedly after stan had introduced you to them.

"That's cause you don't. We aren't married y/ns a friend."

You laughed at the girl who energetically and enthusiastically introduced herself as Mable. The introduction was followed by several need to know now questions, all of which would later be scribbled onto a paper for you to fill out and return to her.

☆what's your favorite color

☆ do you like my grunkle stan?

☆if you were a magical creature, what would you be? Why? WHAT WOULD I BE? why?

☆do you LOOOOVEEE grunkle stan?

☆opinion on stickers?

"Alright, you two leys get you up to your room for the summer." Stan said, pulling Mable away from you and grabbing her bags.

You grabbed the second set of bags and followed stan and the two kids.

"Dipper, right?" You asked the boy who fell in line with you "oh yea! Yep that's me!" He laughed nervously.

"Very cool name,I like your hat by the way." You prayed you didn't seem like you were trying too hard to get them to like you.

"So you and grunkle stan run this place?" Dipper asked, looking at all your hot glue collages as Stanford decided to give them the grand tour before their room.

"Yup." You nodded.

"What's the point? Isn't this all fake? I mean... I can see the string on the invisible man's glasses." He said pointing out the attraction as you passed.

"Oh c'mon Dipper, how could you not love the jackalope!? Is he a deer? Is he a rabbit? I can't tell!" Mable said, carrying the creature in her arms like a teddy bear.

"I just don't get it? Why lie to people when I'm sure there has to be something real out there!"

You smiled at him. He sounded like you when you were a kid...he sounded more like Stanford before the shack. "You like the supernatural?" You asked.

"Oh yea, dippers a huge nerd he loves all that junk!" Mable said punching her brother in the shoulder.

"Oh, here we go! Don't get this one started on mystery and supernatural boogie men!" Stanford said, stopping to join your conversation.

"Y/n used to be big on hunting and looking for stuff like this." He said, wrapping his arm around you. "Used too...I haven't in over 30 years...it got too complicated." You opted to give them a simple answer as to why you stopped.

"Really!? That's so cool!" Dipper exclaimed. "If you ever need someone to go on adventures with, you can trust me."

Over the upcoming weeks, it was slightly rocky with the kids getting settled in, but eventually, they started warming up to the shack as well as yourself and Stanford.

You were quite pleased to have their company, actually. You felt something change in your everyday lives when they entered the shack.

"Depending on who you ask." You said continuing your story as you placed plates in front of the kids. "Your grunkle and I are married." The kids gasped. "Only through some silly machine in Vegas it wasn't real there was this one time -"

Stan chuckled to himself as you told the story of your fake marriage in Vegas as he watched the three of you laugh in the kitchen.

He smiled. Watching you frantically move your arms to further dramatice the story, a certain shine he'd noticed had been missing from your eyes for a few years now. You had it when he'd met you.

The same day, he knew things would be different for him. They HAD been different. You accepted him for everything he was. You went along with his crazy shenanigans. You gave up a whole life for him.

He remembered the birthday parties you had thrown for him. Even if you were the only person to be there for him.

He knew after a few years of you doing so that you would always be the only one there. He had the strangest feeling the night of his 35 birthday when he realized this.

He lied awake in bed, staring at the ceiling when it occurred to him what the feeling was.

"Oh no."

He quietly snuck away from you and the kids, still hearing your laughter erupt through the house behind him. He made his way into the darkened gift shop and punched a code into the vending machine, and went down to the basement he swore to you he'd destroyed.

30 years, and all he had offered you was lies. After all you'd done for him after all the care you'd shown him after all you had sacrificed. He just wanted you to have a normal life. A good life.

Not something he had fabricated.

He spent most of his time thinking about the large machine that still sat in his basement, the other half worrying about you. If he was giving a good life if he was soing as good a job being in your life as you had done for him.

He worried about what might happen when, IF he was able to pull of bringing his brother back.

How would you react to being lied to for 30 years. Maybe you did really feel the same way he had felt about you for years and you would forgive him.

In order for that to work, he'd have to actually admit his feelings to you.

He wanted to, he also wanted do a lot more for you in the 30 years you'd been together but always failed before he could make a move or do anything really. He pushed aside a notepad filled with ideas of kind gestures he could do for you (most of which were crossed out) and replaced the space with the journal Ford had left him.

He would get it right.

All of it.

Eventually.

Then again.

He could always ask Mable.

While you laughed with two kids at a dinner table and Stanley beat himself up about lying and tried to rebuild his life.

The real Stanford pines sat out there amongst the stars with nothing but a creased photo of the two of you and wondered why it was taking you so long to find him.

~~~~~~~☆~~~~~

Taglist:

@muffin1304

@katharine3000

@leo4242564

@space1crow

@steveharringtongf

@mckennaishere07

@nothingbutcloud

@anicega

@i-am-tiredd

@babydoll-143

@fanficcrow

@slay-thou-pookie

@bandaids-n-porceline

[stevesgother]

ahhhhhhh there it is ! 💌 love letter officially deposited hehe

thank you sm for answering my inbox message and for taking in my request. Steve Harrington girlies forever and ever amen !!!

Pairing - Steve Harrington x GN!Reader

WC - 1.3k

Warnings - mention of character death, canon typical violence/gore, sad stebe, flangst, hurt/comfort, friends to lovers, depictions of ptsd

Request by @sheisjoeschateau w/ the prompts - barely proofread. i'm really sick, cut me some slack

“The panic between thinking you lost them and the relief of seeing they are okay” + “Just please, don’t leave me.”

“Let me go!” You all but scream as Nancy holds you back by your waist from the squelching, pulsating gate in Eddie’s trailer ceiling.

“You can’t go back, it’s too dangerous!” Dustin tries to reason with you but his pleas fall on deaf ears. Eddie’s down there– Steve is down there. Your Steve. If they aren’t going to help them, then you will.

You know you’ll be apologizing profusely for this later– already thinking of ways you can make it up to her as you rear back, driving your skull into Nancy’s nose with just enough force for her to loosen her grip. When she stumbles back, you don’t waste the opportunity to grab onto the makeshift rope and hoist yourself into that dank, unforgiving hellhole.

Not nearly as agile as Steve, you land on your back with a harsh ‘thump!’ and realize with a stark clarity that Eddie must’ve moved the mattress. There are a solid ten seconds where you can’t seem to convince your lungs to suck in oxygen, and you lie there squirming uncomfortably until your alveoli start to inflate again.

You hobble out of the trailer with as much agility as you can muster, calling for Steve and Eddie all the while. A trash can lid with nails protrudes from the ground, surrounded by tiny scraps of clothing littering the dirt. Bile rises in your throat at the thought that they could’ve belonged to Steve.

“Eddie!?” You whisper yell, as not to bring unwanted attention to your location. You may be impulsive, but you’re not stupid. Screaming down here would be like ringing the dinner bell for interdimensional demons, “Steve!”

About thirty yards from the front door of Eddie’s trailer, you see a bloodied and bruised figure hunched over another mass. From this distance, they seem to be moving– a rhythmic rise and fall of broad shoulders.

Knowing exactly who you’re looking at and expecting the worst, you sprint to the huddle as fast as your appendages will carry you. Your lungs burn from the exertion of it, combined with the less-than-stellar quality of the air in this alternate dimension.

Steve is giving Eddie CPR, or at least attempting to. He’s badly injured himself– his lifeguard training never prepared him for something like this.

“Steve!” You grab his shoulders when you reach him, and one look at Eddie informs you that he’s gone, “Steve, we have to go, I’m sorry,”

Lost to his dissociative state, it’s hard to tell how long he’s been down here hunkered over Eddie’s dying form for. He barely acknowledges your presence, only muttering a weak ‘gotta save him.’

“He’s gone, Steve,” you manage to bite back the sob that threatens to spill through your lips like hot blood, “We have to go. Now.”

Using all your will and every ounce of strength you have left, you pull your best friend to his feet with a promise to come back and get Eddie when this is all over. The gashes in his sides are weeping and caked with dirt, infection will set in soon. You needed to get him to a hospital yesterday.

The leather of Nancy’s Mercury Grand Marquis is cold and biting at the bare expanse of your right thigh; your clothes having been torn to shreds earlier in the evening. Steve’s head lies motionless against your lap where he’s curled into a fetal position on the bench of the backseat.

“Are we almost there?” You ask Nancy for the fourth time. The Earth had split clean in two– at least it did in your sleepy town that you’d called home your entire life. The home you’d met Steve in. The home you’d almost lost him in.

“About four more minutes,” she called back from the driver’s seat, “traffics’ backed up, I promise I’m going as fast as I can,” she hits a particularly deep pothole and Steve groans as he drifts in and out of consciousness.

You run a soothing hand over his albeit grimy hair, “I know, it’s okay. You’re gonna be okay, Stevie,” you reassure, not even entirely sure he can hear you. You’d talk to Steve forever. In life or in death– in disaster or in peace. Whether he could hear you or not.

Nancy came to a halting stop in front of the Hawkin’s Memorial Hospital’s emergency room entrance. Despite being brushed off by several hospital staff, she continues to demand for a gurney until a resident sidles one up to the car for Steve.

Without thinking twice, you try to enter with him– his hand locked tightly in yours.

“Are you family?” The resident asks in a scruffy voice as he narrows his eyes at you questioningly.

“I–” Yes. No. Kind of? Not the blood kind. But he has no other family, at least not in the way that counts. Just you, and this ragtag group of teenagers. “Yes.”

He doesn’t question you again as he ushers the two of you into the emergency room, and the on-call doctor assesses his injuries.

Four hours and fifty seven stitches later, Steve still hasn’t regained consciousness. The staff assures you that he will– but that they gave him an anesthetic and pain medicine that’s keeping him knocked out cold. You lay with your head resting against his hospital gown clad chest, still keeping a firm grasp on his calloused hand. You didn’t plan on letting go any time soon.

A groan, not unlike the one he released in the car, breaks through the cacophony of hospital noises causing you to snap to attention. His eyes peel open slowly and one at a time– a look of recognition and fondness passing over his features when he realizes it’s you. His voice cracks with misuse as he says your name.

“Steve. You’re okay,” you try not to disturb his web of hospital wiring and stitches as you hug him a bit tighter.

“I’m okay,” he reassures you with a wobbly smile.

“I love you.” You blurt it out like it’s sour acid on your tongue– painful to keep it in for even a second longer.

He squeezes your hand, “I love you, too,”

“No, I–” you inhale a shaky breath, “I love you.”

“Oh…” he whispers, realization flickering across his features.

“I’m sorry– I know this is such shitty timing. Just, after everything, I mean I– I thought I was going to lose you before I ever got to say anything and I–”

“Hey–” he interrupts your rambling with a shaky hand to the apple of your cheek, “I love you, too,” he repeats the words in the same clarifying cadence as you did, causing you to crack a small smile.

“Let me go get the others,” you say as you get up, antsy to let everyone know he’s awake. But before you even have the chance to leave the chair, a firm hand grips your wrist.

You can see a flash of fear and the subtle well of tears above his lash line, “Don’t go,”

“Are you sure? They’re all really worried about you,”

“I’m sure just– just please, don’t go,” and the pleading look in his eyes crumbled what was left of your already deteriorating resolve.

“Okay, Steve,” you sit back down from where you were hovering over the uncomfortable plastic chair, “I’ll stay. I’m right here.”

Steve scoots his body close to the edge of the hospital bed, and you lie down next to him with an arm around his torso. The warmth of the embrace and the release of a ten-year-long breath is enough to lull you both into a peaceful sleep.

divider credit @cafekitsune

[bahrtofane]

you drag jude to take a nap with you in his backyard. he likes it more than he can admit. 

word count : 700+

watch it : pure fluff, mildly cranky whining jude, still loves you any way 

enjoy <33

—--

"still think this is a good idea ?" jude sighs, closing the back door with his foot and dragging the blankets behind him. 

when you said you wanted to relax and enjoy the sun he was thinking of the pool, maybe even a quick flight to the nearest nice beach. going to a park, hell even just tan. nowhere in his mind did he think you wanted to sunbathe and take naps in his backyard. yet here the both of you are. bellies full from lunch (thank you to his mother for the lovely meal), warm from the sun. not half bad actually. he just likes being dramatic.

he's far too shy to say it outloud, contrary to popular belief, but any time spent with you is good time. no matter what you're doing. if you wanted to sunbathe on the moon hes pretty sure he'd follow. 

"yes i do thank you. it's a lovely day." you beam, smoothing out the blankets and rearranging the pillows just how you like. throwing your phone somewhere near the far corner. you are going to nap dammit. no distractions allowed ( jude not included ). 

he huffs, "why the backyard, there are plenty of parks," squinting up at the sun the breaks between the tall trees that span the yard. 

you shrug, "it's more intimate this way. i don’t want to get all dressed up and deal with people, and i know how tired you get from having to interact with the public. now sit," you pat the space next to you on the blanket. nice and neat against the grass. 

he supposes that it is much more intimate. it's a welcome change from your usual outings. always with security and his agent. here he can be jude, and you are free to be you in every capacity. under the shade, you each blossom and bloom under the suns warm touch. each leaning on eachother. 

he finds it endearing how you thought of him, remembering his likes and dislikes. you really are something. 

but you don't need to know that just yet. he finds complaining rather fun. 

"ants are going to have a field day." jude grumbles, sitting himself cross legged next to you.

you shrug, "they don’t do much honestly. we don’t even have food out anyway."

he hums, "i guess so."

you hunker down belly flat on the soft blanket, stretching your limbs out with a yawn, "well im going to nap." you sigh softly, grabbing a pillow and burying your face into its side.

jude looks at you aghast,"no no no. you drag me out here and then you bail to nap ? absolutely not."

"i need my sun nap time or i die. like a plant." you retort, eyes closed. 

"i need my time with you or i die. like a jude." he shoots back, arms failing as he whines.

you crack an eye open to glare at him, "just try it, "arms open and inviting him next to you. 

he eventually gives in, rolling his eyes playfully as he slides right into your arms. face pressed into the same pillow, he lets you get comfortable against him. sliding your arms to bring him closer, wrapping a leg around his. 

"see? not so bad you big baby." you mumble into his skin, pressing a few kisses into his skin.

"guess not." he mumbles, warm and content in your embrace. 

you're out light a light not even a minute later, softly grasping his arms and face buried into him as you doze off in the sun. just like you wanted. 

there's much worse things he could be doing right now he realizes. a slew of illegal activities, hundreds of bad food to chow down on and make his nutritionist hate her life. the amout of shit he gets from his teamates on his habbits is enough to last a life time. they really should be jumping for joy. 

but more importantly, he could jump for joy. happy and warm, pressed close to his lovers side. cuddling with you on soft blankets in the sun on a warm day is the best option. safe and sound in your arms jude soon finds himself drifting away. he hopes he dreams of you. 

[six-eyed-samurai]

SUMMARY: For the life of him, Upper Moon Six cannot figure out why he can't bring himself to kill you. It kills him inside to even think about it. A/N: Had this in my drafts for god knows how long, it's finally out LMAO. WARNINGS: Fem reader, one dead man, couple of swears...and that's about it I think

Sometimes Gyutaro really wished Daki wasn’t so picky about who she ate.

It was a particularly low time recently. The District hadn’t received much new members and most of the people Daki had deemed beautiful enough to eat were gone, throwing a whole tantrum about how she’d rather starve than consume such hideousness. They argued, he threatened her, she screamed back, but in the end he relented and continued in his search to find a meal for them both.

He wasn’t picky and could’ve eaten any time he wanted, he grumbled to himself as he hunkered down on the balcony of one of the numerous rooms in the brothel, surveying the blinding lights of the District and spitting at the arrogant men and haughty women down below. But of course he had to just feel bad about being full while his sister went hungry so Gyutaro decided to stave off eating until she did.

If there weren’t any beautiful people, he hoped Daki would be fine with someone pretty. Or at least decently average. And what luck, he had found none.

Well, lies. Gyutaro wondered how Daki never noticed her before and prayed that she never would. Perhaps it was because she was such a quiet, obedient thing that spent most of her time serving the mistress so that probably explained it. Not beautiful enough to attract the attention of clients, but pretty enough to have gotten Upper Six’s interest.

He stalked her around for a few days to figure out the best time to strike and eat her at the beginning. Sometimes she’d accidentally catch on, see that shadow hunkering behind her, but he made sure to always stay out of her sight.

Gyutaro learnt a lot of things about her that way. She liked food that wasn’t too sweet and disliked a certain type of fish. She liked to go take a walk occasionally alone, far away from the brothel. Her favorite color, the jewelry on the other girls she’d eye, when she fell asleep.

She liked ugly things too. That scrawny, flea-bitten cat from the garbage. The gap-toothed, abandoned children of the streets who flocked to her and begged for breadcrumbs. She didn’t seem to mind the out-of-fashion, worn clothes handed to her by the other girls of the house.

He’d like to think she’d like Gyutaro too.

Of course he knew it was wrong. She was food, not someone he should be thinking about constantly, whether he be out hunting for other prey or remaining dormant within Daki. She’d run screaming in the other direction if she so much as caught a glimpse of him.

Gyutaro wasn’t even sure when he had started getting the weird symptoms from watching her. He had originally thought she must be a demon herself, using her Blood Art to make him think about her 24/7, 365, make his palms sweaty and have his heart rate accelerate around her, have the persistent urges to keep following her around for no reason except to just bask in that sunlight of hers.

Probably some time after she nearly came close to realizing he was there, Gyutaro concluded. She was out with the oiran as one of her attendants that night and out of habit he had shadowed them, ducking out of sight amongst the crowds and running into an abandoned alley after nearly getting caught. The stupid cat had suddenly rushed in as well, something in its jaws, and her hot on its heels.

She had slammed into him, both falling over. Gyutaro would’ve snarled and promptly killed the person if it had been anyone else, but seeing her surprised, flustered face bathed in yellow glow momentarily froze him. She was looking at him. She was hovering above him.

He waited for the screaming.

“I’m so sorry! I didn’t see you there! Are you alright?!”

Shock left him dumb, instinct caused him to grunt in reply and quickly turn away lest she caught a glimpse of how demonically ugly he was. The cat screeched from somewhere in the back but he could barely hear it over the rush in his ears as her sweet, sweet, gentle, soft hand grabbed his and helped him up, exclaiming apologies again and again.

Then he fell, probably, and could never not think about her again.

Gyutaro abruptly growled and fled in frustration at the weird, disgusting feelings welling up inside of him. Ugly, ugly, ugly, he hated himself, he hated her, he couldn’t stand the thought of killing her, he wanted her so badly not to see him like everyone did, like she did that night, just another person-

But hey, even demons could dream, right? Gyutaro was guilty for the deaths and injuries for hundreds of humans even when he was one himself, but the sin of fantasizing what it’d be like to even be shown an ounce of affection from her, have her for himself (what was it that humans did, hold hands? Each other? He watched her pet the cat; would she pet and play with his hair like that?) made him feel a thousand times guiltier.

A horrible feeling. Like somebody had stabbed him and was twisting the Nichirin blade around in his innards. Obviously this feeling could be fixed if he ate you, got rid of you, right? …even if he couldn’t fathom eating you himself, Daki could, right? God, never mind, he never felt so…what was this feeling at the thought? So for now he just hoped that no one would notice her. Not Daki, she’d become her next meal. Not a client, they were fouler than him.

How dare they dirty your presence anyway? Who cared if they were handsome, rich, well off, of excellent lineage and all that bullshit? The fact they even thought of touching your, harassing you, having you was enough for Gyutaro to lose his mind and go crazy on a killing spree of all those suitors. If he couldn’t have you, and he knew that, they couldn’t either, and they better know that.

Daki, however…she seemed to be picking up on something off about her older brother’s behavior - he had never ignored her complaints about their stash of food running low soon before, never brushed it off with a yell and assurances he’d find more victims and not do so. Confused and indignant was how she had felt and what caused her to spy a little on Gyutaro and eventually how he was just spending his time watching some stupid girl with something sparking in his gaze she wasn’t sure what to feel about. She settled on disliking and being suspicious of it, finally confronting him about it one night.

“Onii-chan, can you just kill her and be done with it already?! You’ve been following her for more than a week now, how long more do you need to kill her?!”

“Shut up! Be grateful I’m even hunting for you.”

Daki huffed and continued yelling about something to do with being too busy with Oiran duties but Gyutaro zoned out completely, glaring upwards. He should be killing her by now. Eating her. Digesting her.

Why am I not doing that? He silently demanded.

In truth he didn’t know either. Didn’t know why he so easily gave into the slightest stupidest excuse to stalk his prey some more. Didn’t know why he thought about killing the people around her more than her herself. Didn’t know why he was decapitating the head of a man who called her slurs the other day instead of her head.

“FINE, I’LL GO KILL HER TONIGHT!”

He slammed the doors for emphasis, muttering profanities he didn’t actually mean about his precious sister as he stalked around the house and to her room. Maybe if Gyutaro killed her he’d stop feeling so ill all the time. “Ill” being used loosely, since…oh God, he liked the feeling, didn’t he?

Gyutaro slammed a fist against the wall. He’d eat her and be done with it.

But when he got to her room he could see not one but two shadows moving about inside, hear murmuring voices and smell a foreign scent…a man’s, tainted by alcohol. Gyutaro couldn’t help it, he wound up eavesdropping in a jealous rage at whoever managed to get close to her.

“You’re a - hic - pretty girl, I’m sure you don’t wanna - hic - be stuck here anymore, ne?”

“Sir, please get out, I never invited you to my room and I’m not working right now-”

“So what? You gonna - hic - do something?” Gyutaro’s nails dug into the wood as he saw a silhouette of a hand grabbing at her arm and yanking her to him.

“I’ll call the mistress if you do anything!”

“Haha, if you can get her to - hic - listen to you, I’ll let you go! I’m already offering - hic - a lot of money for your marriage contract!” The man just about threw her to the door, roughly letting go of her arm as he laughed drunkenly. Gyutaro had barely any time to hide himself in the shadows before the doors were flung open and she raced away.

Marriage? With this pathetic excuse of a-

The next thing Gyutaro knew after awakening from the bloodthirsty, furious craze of very messily murdering the man - the bastard had dared taint such a goddess! Not even Gyutaro had dare done that, too terrified she’d run from the demon that he was and he wouldn’t even be able to catch sight of her anymore - was him standing above the corpse, one sickle buried in the mutilated head…

…while two yellow eyes slowly looked back to see her standing still by the doorway.

His hands curled into fists and he fell to his knees. It was over, wasn’t it? Gyutaro would really have to kill her now, after she’d inevitably shatter his black, rotted heart into a million pieces for slaughtering someone much worse than him. Daki would not be happy at being forced to kill the whole House because he was seen either.

She…fell to her knees as well? Smiling and crying?

“I knew it! I knew you were always there-”

“NEHHH?” Gyutaro reared back, stunned. “You’re supposed to scream! Am I not ugly to you?! Say something else, you stupid human! What do you mean you know?!”

“I knew you were there,” she repeated. “Someone was always following me…you were the one who killed all those…men and left those stolen items from the other oiran for me, weren’t you? I just wondered when you’d show up…I was so, so afraid when the mistress told me I was going to be married off…I prayed and prayed you’d save me again.”

“What? No, NO!” In a flash he grabbed her by the throat and pinned her to the wall, breathing erratically as his hand gripped his sickle tight enough to crush rocks. “I’m not - I’m not saving you! You’re not supposed to be like this! I’m a disgusting demon, you stupid dunce, I’m ugly-”

“I don’t think you are.”

Gyutaro searched her face frantically for any indication she was bullshitting him. This was everything he wanted and nothing he understood. His fingers tightened their hold. She had to be lying.

She wasn’t. Her lips curved up gently and a fang poked out. “I think you’re like me.”

[abysstrap-ran]

❖ Deficit Yearnings Ch.2

(Viktor x Mage!Reader)

A/N: Disclaimer that I truly have no idea what I'm doing bc this is a very old draft and I'm 3x more rusty with writing than when I started this, so take it as you will. Might... draw up some hcs or some sort though. Arcane is eating my brain.

⊹ ˚✩ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ∘◦ ✥ ◦∘ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ✩˚ ⊹

“Firelights; so vibrantly green. The colour of Vitality, a symbol of hope.”

Of all things that would be Viktor’s perpetual undoing, of course it had to be something out of the realm of the science he was so familiar with. What were his attempts at a second chance at life, if not nought but futile?

The exalted fumes of the mines… The invisible scars it left. The corrosion within that spread, silently, deadly; until it was all too late.

⊹ ˚✩ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ∘◦ ✥ ◦∘ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ✩˚ ⊹

It had been a long day, and rough was a severe understatement for the week. Weeks, to be precise.

Their new project had literally run them through the wringer and from the looks of it… It would probably take them about a couple more weeks at best to figure out. 

Sure, the spare parts he’d gotten from his last errand run down to the Undercity did turn out to be the exact breakthrough that they’d been seeking, but it had also brought along with it a whole other slew of problems. Ones that they had to fix before they could even produce something worthy of calling a prototype. A prototype that would gain them the council's favor, or any bigshot out there who could help fund their ventures. 

Or, maybe attend a fundraiser party or two.

Viktor grimaced at the thought. 

No, definitely not parties. He hated those. Although Jayce would gladly beg to differ… Probably. 

Jayce was more often than not the more socially inclined of the duo, and loathe as he may be, Viktor had to admit that he would much rather be in the lab than greet others with pleasantries and a forced smile.

His conflicting thoughts must have reflected plain as day on his face, because Jayce had taken one look at him, hunkered down from his incessant pacing, and promptly fixed him with an inscrutable look.

Running a hand over his face, Jayce gestured at the mess of papers before them — heaps and piles of blueprints, theories, research papers and folios of all kinds laid spread out upon their shared workspace. 

“I think we should call it a day, Viktor.”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“We’ve been at it for a week now, and we both know we need a break. When was the last time we really had a good night's sleep? And… the numbers of all the calculations we've been bickering about left and right are honestly starting to blur.”

Viktor had been affronted by his blatant dismissal at first, but that irritation soon disappeared upon seeing Jayce rub his tired eyes. Jayce was right. An exhausted mind would do them no favors.

Last he checked, he’d thought that it was a Tuesday, but a quick glance down at the calendar to the right told him otherwise. 

It was Friday, and it was already way past sundown, judging from the inky darkness outside.

“Alright. We’ll come back to this tomorrow.” 

And that had been the end of it. A right shower and a good night's rest today, and he'll be right as rain and ready to take on their not-so-little tech problem!

Or so, he thought; only for a niggling itch that had been at the back of his throat the entire week to make itself known just as he settled down to sleep in his academy-funded apartment. This time, with a vengeance. 

He sat back up with a faint grumble, lean fingers moving in ever-familiar motions in an attempt to soothe the irritation away. Like a worm, stubborn and persistent, it wiggled its way out of his throat into a rasping cough. 

Perhaps some warm sweet milk would be enough to soothe him to sleep — but wait, he’d bought herbal leaves for tea, hadn’t he?

Reluctantly drawing himself out of the warm comforts of the covers, he padded to the kitchen for a drink.

Viktor reached into the once-forgotten bag he’d gotten from the apothecary, feeling around for the bottled herb, only for his fingers to brush against the cool surface of not one vial, but two. 

Two?

His brow furrowed as he withdrew the vials out of the bag, setting it onto the counter with a faint clink. He was pretty sure he hadn't paid for this, which meant that the owner had thrown that in with his purchase free of charge.

There it sat, innocuously, along with its attached note, the ink glinting under the light of his kitchen. It was a small bottle of harmless-looking white salve.

‘Balm for your aches’ was written in a simple script. 

For… his aches? Viktor’s brow furrowed. Was his discomfort that obvious that even a stranger could pick up on it?

It wasn’t every day that someone received a handout free of charge; especially not in the Undercity. Which then begged the question — had you done it out of goodwill? Or… was it to curry a favor that you'd undoubtedly collect on someday? He still recalled how you’d thought of him as a topsider, which meant that you probably had some “merit” to gain from him.

Whichever the case, he supposed he'd find out eventually. Setting the balm aside, he picked up the vial of leaves he'd previously purchased, and went on to make the cup of tea that he'd been seeking.

A few minutes later saw him settled back under the covers, a steaming mug in hand. 

The warm liquid soothed his scratchy throat as he sipped from it, the leafy concoction quelling the itch that seemed to have permanently made its home there more often than not.  He watched the way the wispy steam rose and disappeared while the gears in his head turned, mulling over what could have gone wrong with their newest project. Opening his notebook, he revised the calculations and formulas they'd previously been bickering over. 

Had they miscalculated? No, he'd personally checked them multiple times over, and they were tried and true. A missing gear, perhaps? Or… were they perhaps taking the wrong approach to their problem? 

As the cogs turned, so did the onset of the accumulated exhaustion over the past few days. Warm, and no longer plagued by an ever-persistent cough, a comfortable fog settled over his brain, and he set his cup aside. The night was serene, and the muted sounds of the city of progress slowly but surely lulled him to rest.

He’d leave tomorrow’s problems for tomorrow.

⊹ ━━━ ✥ ━━━ ⊹

Meanwhile, down in the Undercity.  Your end of the night found you in the midst of your workspace, surrounded by jars and containers alike. Some filled, some empty, and some of which were cooling off on a rack after you'd filled them with a new brew. 

This wasn’t your shopfront, no. But rather, a separate room from what was usually known as the “apothecary” to most.

You’d never thought to name the place, really. So it didn’t really matter what the general populace had taken to calling your little establishment. And considering the dingy sign that named it so and the overall run-down state of the place… Yeah, maybe you’d have to rethink refurbishing the place once you have the funds to spare.

And speaking of funds… You inaudibly sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose. That was exactly why you were back here, in the backrooms of your shop, cooking up vials of product that had to be otherwise dealt with only in under-the-table deals.

Your client paid quite a hefty sum for these concoctions, which was why you had agreed to be their supplier whenever they came knocking. Thankfully, those orders didn’t come often, but since each one was different from the last, they were time-consuming to fulfill. Your only saving grace was that your client was the one graciously providing the resources required. And while this time’s request wasn’t complicated by any means, it was proving to be quite a headache. 

Checking the temperature of the fire beneath a bubbling pot, you reached over to a flowering pot by the table, plucking a few leaves from the plant before adding them to the boiling liquid before you. It frothed a little as you stirred, before producing a puff of viscous smoke that you were sure wasn’t supposed to happen. It gave an ominous gurgle before the liquid lurched, threatening to overflow from the confines of its medium. With a startled yelp, you quickly cut the fire and backed a good distance away from it in case it just so happened to be explosive. 

…Not that it hasn’t happened before. You wince, recalling how you had to close down your establishment a couple of jobs ago for a good month or two while the repairs were being made. That had cut you back a few months on rent, something you didn’t want a repeat of, thank you very much.

Once the pot showed no signs of imminent explosion, you cautiously withdrew the ladle and squinted at the notes you’d hastily scribbled off to the side. Picking up the pen lying by the side, you quickly scratched off a few points you made and tacked on another short paragraph beneath it.

“This combination doesn’t work… Wait, oh. Oh dear.” 

It was then that you noticed that your ladle had been reduced to a stick, with the spoon part of it having been completely dissolved. Whatever had been bubbling in there had eaten right through the wooden ladle.

You made a thoughtful hum before recording your new findings onto a new sheet of paper in detail, only to be snapped out of your reverie when a small knock sounded on the door connected to the shop. 

A familiar soot-covered face with mousy hair popped in shortly after, bearing a grin with one too many broken teeth and a cheery chime of “Heya, boss! Knew I'd find ya back here!”

You raised your head from the corner of the room you were working in and waved at the door. “Hey, lil’ mouse! You're not supposed to be here, but I'm almost done. Could you wait back out there for me?”

You got an equally chipper “okaay!” in response before the door closed once more. 

Rolling up your sleeves, you got to work bottling your unfortunate mishap-in-a-caldron. This time, using a metal ladle.

The result might have been a far cry from what you'd originally been aiming to create, but whatever by-product you'd created in the process, you're sure that it'll either come to be of use someday. Or… someone, somewhere, might pay the right price for it in the Lanes. 

That being said, however, you'd have to put it away for further perusal. You had no idea what this concoction was, other than the fact that it was strong enough to eat through wood, but that could wait. After all, there was a customer waiting for you back in the shop!

Sealing the last vial with a pop and stashing them all away, you then exited the room, stepping back into the thresholds of your shop. 

You slide the door curtains back over the door to the room out back before turning to greet the child that had come knocking, here to collect her usual package of medicine.

“You’re here pretty late, mouse. Did something happen?” You asked as you opened a drawer to retrieve the package that you'd previously set aside for her.

Mouse shrugged. “Went scavenging. Took longer than we thought to get back up to ground. Y’know, with what it’s like down there...”

Drawing down to her height, you handed it to her with a smile before seeing her off with a pat on the head. “You’re lucky I'm still here then. Here’s your package.”

You gave her a small wave as she exited the shop before turning back and returning to the room that housed your workspace and a few sparse pots of plants.

Rolling your sleeves up, you got back to work. Your client wanted a strong paralytic agent with an extra kick, and that's what he'll get. You just have to find a way to deliver within the week. Scratching your head, you went back to consult your notes, figuring that this would take a while.

 ❖☆————— ⊹ Deficit Yearnings ⊹ —————★❖

Previous Part: (Chapter 1) Next Part: (Chapter 3)

[t1ts-4-donaldson]

Alien!Art Donaldson Headcanons + Thoughts:

This is beyond odd but I just rewatched a few episodes of star crossed the alien show and the brain worms won't leave me alone. (Some of his body modifications are inspired by the show).

Very quiet prefers to listen to you speak than talk himself. When you first meet he prefers to write out his thoughts more than voicing them. He has the tendency to stare, it's a little unsettling at first his eyes open wide locked in on whatever he’s fixated on especially when he's in public and around strangers. You usually apologize for his actions through a forced smile and distract him with something else giving him fidget toys he insisted you’d buy

His curiosity tends to get him into trouble, walking around your home picking up fragile items and letting them slip out of his grasp as his attention is caught elsewhere. But he's very nifty with technology, you'll find him on your computer or phone making adjustments he see's fit that actually work out in your favor

Night owl he'll try to be quiet but you'll hear him snacking on chips while sifting through books, he's hyper fixated on the tennis section of sports illustrated magazine though

the most empathetic being you've ever met, he sits with you watching all your favorite films and shows. He'll hunker through thrillers, action even horror while cowering behind blankets his body basically meshing into yours in fear. But his personal favorites are romances shedding tears for the ones with tragic endings. Poor thing is weeping by the end of them. "Why would they end that way?" He blubbers eyes fixated on the screen as tears run down his face lighting up his birth marks a mix of intergalactic hues staining his cheeks. You can't help but reach out and wrap him in your arms "life doesn't always have happy endings Art.." you mumble rocking him back and forth consoling the weeping man.

Very sensitive to human touch at first it unnerved him your he would naturally stiffen up the minute you'd try lay a hand on him. You had learned to be gentle using hand signals to try to guide him to do things. On his home planet it wasn't really necessary unless it was for reproducing or being cordial between each other but he craves it the minute he realizes how nice it feels, initiating contact himself attempting to hold your hand in his, walking up and wrapping his arms around you randomly through out the day although the awkwardly/wonky the act slowly becoming his love language towards you.

Is a quick learner, his eyes are always observing you so he copies your actions, he picks up some of your own quirks as well, the way you scratch your nose or stand a certain way. You also see him copying other people around him or online, the funniest ones are of him imitating dances on tiktok.

He also wants to teach you some of what he knows, is eager to show anything that piques your interest, sitting you down outside at night pointing at the stars explaining you some of what he knows. It's endearing when he get's so excited talking about home and his family is adorable. (he starts shaking with joy)

Thinks astrology is silly but entertains the idea for you anyways

Becomes interested in you and your body after learning about sex and human intimacy, he first had seen it on the titanic admiring how soft it was then flipped through the channels euphoria happened to be playing intrigued and unsettled by how aggressive sex could be trying to ignore how flustered it made him not understanding why something like that made him so horny. The last time he see's it before you find out is when he’s snooping through your computer opening up your history clicking on a link eyes wide when he sees the most recent video from an adult website 'woman getting fucked until creampied.' His eyes are open like saucers, his mouth agape watching the entire clip he's tugging his growing boner without realizing it.

That’s when you notice him staring a bit more ogling you whenever you’re wearing low tops revealing your chest or while your walking in and out of your bathroom in a robe as you get ready for the day he get’s shy after you mention it "is something wrong?” You frown a bit concerned. He vehemently shakes his head no but you can see right through it the minute your gaze shifts down to his pants and the tent in them. He's flushing red when he's caught, tinges of pale pink glowing through his birth marks betraying his true emotions.

He shows you some of his powers. Occasionally moving objects with his mind, toying with your emotions to make you feel better when you've had a bad day and showing you how his birth marks work, how water triggers the blue and purple galactic colors to arise, he secretly hopes you find him cool living for your praise.

Alien Art is very endearing once he begins developing feelings for you. Picking up picture frames around your home and tracing your face in them admiring how happy you look a tiny smile forming on his face. He'll sit at your vanity and spray your signature perfume on himself because it calms him down. Will steal your clothes and sleep in them whenever he can (you'll sift through your closet trying to find your favorite hoodie and shirts you find it all in a pile on his bed under the covers <3)

Strangest thing he does is mouth at cutlery and cups you've used. He'd be walking around your place sucking the rim of coffee mugs left out on the table or spoons you used to drink soup with (oral fixation goes crazy). He likes the idea of having your lips on his but he's too scared to actually try and make a move.

just loves you from a distance (for now).

I can go all day talking about Alien!Art <3 might self indulge in more

[kaelie-quill]

Writeblr Intro

This feels super awkward to do but I'm putting myself out there for better or worse, so! I go by Kaelie on here, I am 22, Queer, and go by she/her pronouns. I've been on writeblr on and off since I was maybe fifteen but haven't touched it in four years. I am now 22 and for most of those four years I have been plagued by my current WIP, currently called Project Genesis. I've only just recently forced myself to really sit and try to get it out of my head.

I'm kind of ashamed to admit that the only book I ever finished was a warrior cats fan fiction I wrote when I was twelve (It was like forty chapters, I wrote it by hand in a notebook and I let someone take it home and read it one time and it haunts me) Everything since then has either been abandoned and never even made it out of the planning stage.

For the last four years I've been super stressed and in a super bad mental state and had no time to truly sit and try to write anything and if I did I thought it was absolute trash and it kinda made me hate writing. I even stopped reading despite being obsessed with books from the moment I could read, but in the last year and a half I have rediscovered my love for reading and now I want to try writing again.

Project Genesis is meant to be a multi-book high fantasy series with horror elements (maybe, I've not read many horror books and have little experience writing it. Any tips on writing horror, or good horror books to read would be much appreciated) It's got alternating POVs, basically everybody is queer, lots of religious imagery (maybe only if you squint, but I swear sometimes I feel like I'm just ripping off the Bible)

Despite existing for almost for almost four years its hard to describe what it's actually about? The first book at least is a dual POV about one character denying and running from their destiny to avoid becoming a sacrificial lamb, and another character trying to carve out a destiny for himself when he's not meant to have one (not in a 'he's supposed to be dead' way but in a 'you're life isn't supposed to have any affect on the world' kinda way)

It is currently in early planning stages, I'm working on a zero draft and outline before really hunkering down to try a first draft. I don't know how this is gonna go as far as like updates? I'm really just kinda using this as motivation, like if I talk about and say I'm doing it I can keep myself accountable and not just drift away from this like so many others. I expect it to all be horrible but so long as it's something I can go back and make it better. Thanks for reading! 👋🏻

[alwritey-aphrodite]

here’s my submission for the fall coffee house put together by @goodwithcheese and @jolapeno - im not gonna lie i have no idea where this came from but its the longest thing ive written in literal months so enjoy!

Pairing: Frankie Morales x fem!reader

Word Count: 1.2k

Warnings: none :) except that i didn’t proofread lmao

You’ve always been a planner, always had goals for your future, dream boards and five year plans and a list of things to accomplish before you turned thirty. None of those ever included feeling so claustrophobic in what was supposed to be your dream job that you packed everything up and moved away and got a job at a coffee shop. Your life is far from terrible, and you’re quite happy with your choices, but you know if you were somehow able to tell past you where you would end up at twenty seven, she would have spit in your face.

The coffee shop you work at is wonderful, especially now that autumn is in full swing, because it’s almost absurdly cozy and warm. You’re able to wear whatever you want, craft playlists, design menu boards, and spend all day talking with regulars and newcomers alike. Even if it wasn’t where you imagined you would end up, you couldn’t be happier. Especially when an incredibly attractive single father starts to frequent during your shifts.

Isabel and Frankie Morales are nothing short of delightful. The pair of them are absurdly polite, which is especially adorable on the kindergartner, and Frankie is a generous tipper. Before, they had come in every Friday when he picked Isabel up from school for a cookie to split, but now that the weather has turned, they come in most days around two for hot chocolates. Most of the time they retreat to a booth, but on busy days, Frankie helps his daughter onto one of the high top stools along the counter before sitting down next to her, giving you the perfect opportunity to watch and listen to their conversations, still a little scared to actually speak to him beyond the small talk when you take their order.

Today, it’s raining, pouring really, and the shop is mostly empty, the students who normally hunker down for study marathons nowhere to be seen and even most of your regulars hadn’t bothered to show up, choosing to stay dry at home rather than brave the elements for their coffee fix. Your boredom grows with each hour that passes, but then the bell above the door rings to life, and Frankie and Isabel hurry inside, an umbrella trailing behind.

“It’s raining really hard,” Isabel says, trudging up to the counter and leaving her father behind to deal with shaking out the umbrella to keep it from dripping. Normally, she’s glued to her father’s side, but maybe she feels safer with the emptiness of the shop.

“Yeah it is,” you agree with the girl, trying not to laugh as she attempts to stretch herself tall enough to see you over the counter, and you compensate by leaning forward on your elbows, “I didn’t think you guys were going to show up.”

“We were already wet, what’s the worst that could happen,” Frankie says as he approaches the counter himself, umbrella sufficiently dry.

“And I really needed a treat,” Isabel adds, sounding so much like an adult trapped in a toddler’s body you can’t help the giggle that escapes you.

“Oh, yeah? What happened?”

“Don’t get her started,” Frankie mutters, and you laugh again, calming your giggles as Isabel clears her throat.

She launches into a story about recess and reading spots and lunch tables, and it’s hard to keep it all straight, but you nod along all the same, sympathizing with the exhaustion of being a little girl.

“That sounds rough,” you say when she finally finishes her story, and she nods sagely, causing you to fight against your giggles again, “how about I make you an extra special hot chocolate, hm? Would that help?”

“Yes please!” Isabel’s eyes light up, her little frown replaced with a gap-toothed grin.

“Same for you?” You ask Frankie, even though you know he’ll refuse.

“Just a black coffee for me, please.”

You ring them up for a small black coffee and a small regular hot chocolate, even though you give them both larges and you add flavoring and toppings to Isabel’s drink. Instead of slipping into one of the many open booths, they take a spot at the counter, and your heart expands to an impossibly large size. Handing over their drinks, you place a plate of cookies in front of them too. They’re all Halloween and fall themed, and you’d spent the better part of the afternoon decorating them with more care than necessary, simply because you had the time. Frankie starts to shake his head, but you’re one step ahead of him.

“Please, just take them. They’ll all go to waste otherwise, no one else is gonna come in.”

“You should take them, then,” he counters, not giving in.

“C’mon, I’ve eaten about ten of these bad boys today already, and I’ve got a box full of pastries set aside for when I leave. Take the damn cookies,” you’d normally never use that language with a customer, but it’s dead besides the two of them and you’re grinning so you don’t think he’ll take offense.

A smile blooms on his face even as he shakes his head at you, and he takes two cookies from the plate, one for himself and one for Isabel, who looks like the happiest girl in the world now that she has cookies to add to her ginormous hot chocolate.

It’s dark by the time they get ready to leave, and you feel a little awful, like you’ve kept them trapped with you when they could have a million things they needed to do all because you were a little bored.

“Thanks for keeping me company,” you say, a little sheepish as Frankie helps Isabel back into her raincoat, which is difficult because she refuses to part with the cookies you’d boxed up for them to take home.

“We should be thanking you, for the cookies and the company,” he counters, pausing in his struggle to smile at you. You smile back, but then Isabel is tugging on his sleeve and pulling him down to her level. She whispers at him, and they’re a little too far for you to hear, so you just busy yourself with wiping down the already spotless counter until Isabel clears her throat rather dramatically and you turn your attention back to the pair with a gentle smile.

“You know, these are a lot of cookies for only two people,” Frankie starts, and you’re getting ready to argue with him, thinking he’s trying to get out of taking them again when he continues, “maybe we should split them three ways? And we can make you hot chocolate for a change?”

It takes you a second to figure out what he means, but when he does, there’s no stopping the smile that overtakes you, and you’re so beyond happy you can’t even speak for a minute.

“I’ll be done here around six,” you reply once you can form words again, and Frankie’s smile is so gorgeous it threatens to eliminate that ability all over again, “if you’re not already sick of me.”

“I could never get sick of you,” he responds, and if you weren’t already a complete goner, you definitely are now.

[hazelfoureyes]

The most important question of all: What type of drunk is everyone in the hotel?

Deeply held personal beliefs here lmao

‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹ Alastor

𖦹Alastor loves being the center of attention and he drops his need for an air of mystery when he’s a few fingers deep into the rye. He grabs unwilling participants by the wrists and swing dances with them, despite their clear lack of understanding on how to swing.

𖦹He hums and sings under his breath while sitting in a comfy chair.

𖦹Loqacious! Vaggie would like him to shut the fuck up, Charlie is alarmed because he always reminisces about his real life murders like discussing a loving partner long gone. He is a talkative drunk through and through.

𖦹 Next day: No shame the next morning. Everyone’s annoyed and he might be a little sheepish, but ultimately he doesn’t care.

𖦹Smutty: Never lets you top, but once he’s had a few and has relaxed, will happily lie back and let you take care of yourself with his body while he watches you. Rarely vocal during sex, he’s suddenly talkative and showering you in groans and moans.

Lucifer 𖦹Lucifer doesn’t drink. He really doesn’t. Oh geez, okay well if Charlie is asking so sweetly and everyone else is what’s the harm in-

𖦹Shirt unbuttoned halfway, everything he says sounds like a double entendre even if it isn’t. Cannot stop flirting, even accidentally. The flirty drunk has arrived.

𖦹He stays put, picks a chair or stool and just hunkers down, watching happily over the gathering.

𖦹Pet names for everyone. CharChar, Magpie, Legs, Whiskers, Bambi… Niffty is just Niffty. Even drunk he is a little scared of her.

𖦹Next day: No hangover, excitedly and nervously listening to all the stories of things he did. “Yeah that sounds like me hahaha”

𖦹Smutty: Slow love making, takes his time and moves over you like molasses. Doesn’t care about finishing, just likes the feeling of being close to you and hearing the sounds you make. 50/50 you fall asleep together with him still in you.

Angel Dust

𖦹Angel handles his liquor like he’s handles his men; with an open throat and a smile. It’s genuinely hard to tell if he’s drunk unless he’s so gone his pitch of voice has changed. 𖦹With a little inebriation, he’s leaning into his friends and talking really openly about his feelings and problems in life. 𖦹Drunk? Like— drunk drunk? He’s loud and hanging on everyone for stability. Every grin borders on sleazy, but if the wrong person made a move they’d get four hands to the face pushing them away. Alastor thinks he is the life of the party; Angel is the party.

𖦹Next day: Angel has no memory of what happened the night before and even if he does he will just pull his sunglasses down and pretend he doesn’t.

𖦹Smutty: Angel likes drunk sex, because he can feel his body disconnect from his mind. His eyes would be unfocused, and no matter the lover his gaze would always be at the ceiling. His attention purely on the sensations his body was offering him. He’d be quiet, just enjoying himself.

Husker

𖦹Husk is usually ornery, but when drunk he becomes the wise old man who wont stop talking to you like a kid. Husk, I’m a grown ass adult? Ha, in my day you would still be in diapers. That doesn’t make any sense Husk. Sense? Your lot don’t know shit about sense.

𖦹When he isn’t pretending to be everyone’s drunk Gandalf, compliments flow like booze from a tipped bottle. You’re real pretty when you smile. Wish I saw more of it. — That’s what I like about you, you always get back up.

𖦹Husk is always topping up everyone’s glass, and even when drunk he’s the one who registers when someone’s had enough. On many occasions he has replaced Angel’s drink with just orange juice and soda water when he wasnt looking, too drunk to notice.

𖦹Next day: Yesterday didn’t happen, order a drink or get the fuck out of the bar.

𖦹Smutty: Husk doesn’t like sex when he’s drunk, he doesn’t like the implication anyone may not be fully aware of what’s happening. He’ll cuddle, caress, kiss, but no sex unless you’re relatively sober or you had explicitly made plans to enjoy a drunken romp. In which case, he relishes in changing positions often to find new ways to make you gasp out his name. Tipsy or not, his hands are always steady.

Charlie

𖦹Charlie is the happiest drunk to exist. Her confidence sores with a little liquid courage. She’ll clamor onto the bar and declare she is going to redeem all of Hell, making the Pride ring a glorified bus stop between death and the pearly gates.

𖦹Clumsy. She talks with her hands and spills her drink everywhere. Constantly running into things with her hips and feet. She will trip over nothing, and apologize to the air for the misstep.

𖦹Charlie oscillates between talking nonstop to being dead silent, big doe eyes watching intently as you speak. She’s hanging on every word.

𖦹Tells everyone she loves them, then cries about how much she loves them.

𖦹Next day: Hungover, doesn’t understand why people drink so often, this sucks. Slightly embarrassed about getting up on the bar but otherwise has no issues knowing she doted on everyone.

𖦹Smutty: The Morningstars are similar in that they take their time. They need to hear every little gasp, every held breath. Charlie would spend hours exploring the places she could make bring you pleasure. Little giggles from between your legs as she gives herself mental pats on the back.

Vaggie

𖦹Drunk Vaggie is similar to Sober Vaggie. Serious but caring, and relatively quiet. She wouldn’t become overly showy or loud. Your only indication she’s been drinking is the slight slur to her words and the way her hands tip her drink a little too much when talking.

𖦹Goes on full rants about heaven if the topic comes up. Just bashes the hypocrisy and curses her fellow angels.

𖦹Slips more into Spanish, her words dipping between the two languages.

𖦹Little more handsy, resting her chin on her darling’s shoulder and letting her hands come around their waist while they are talking to people.

𖦹Next day: Needs everyone to shut the fuck up and turn the lights off. She swears she’s never letting Angel mix her drinks again. Mortified to hear she was necking in the lobby.

𖦹Smutty: Drunk Vaggie just wants to kiss and hold you, enjoying the way the room spins a little around you both as you lose track of time. She’s down for more, but only if you’re taking the lead.

Niffty

𖦹Please stop handing her drinks.

𖦹Fuck, she’s drinking other people’s drinks when they aren’t looking.

𖦹She’s dusting the ceiling, she’s vacuuming the sofa, dear God she’s scrubbing Angel’s hands with pure bleach shrieking, “Diiiiirty.”

𖦹Unhinged. More so. Somehow. Makes everyone a crown of trash.

𖦹Next day: is she still drunk? No? This is just her natural state of being?!

𖦹Smutty: Bad boys welcome, everyone else can get shanked.

༻Masterlist༺

∰ Summoning the Horny Little Deer Cult (general tag list):

@cxrsedwxrlds , @nonetheartist , @tsunaki , @janchei , @wettiny-in-smutland , @moonmark98 , @hoebihoeshi , @pansexual-opera-house , @polytheatrix , @lorddiabigmommymilkers , @backinthefkingbuildingagain , @harley2223-blog , @coffee-colored-hopeless-romantic , @poinappel , @midnightnoiserose , @spookieroz , @missmidorima , @ivebeenthearchersstuff , @downbadforfictionalppl , @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx , @sleepylittledemon , @aether-th3-enby , @dontfuckbutimfab , @breathlessaura , @aperfectidiot , @certainlygay , @jth12 , @star-kujo-platinum , @alitaar , @maddiemouse-1226 , @christineblood , @zombiesnips-blog , @readergirlstuff

@ivebeenthearchersstuffn, @rubyninja1 , @simphornies , @alleystore , @readergirlstuff , @berry-demon , @chirimeimei , @fairyv-ice , @olive-frog , @thonethatflies620 , @tiredkiwiii , @ilikemyteawithmilk , @whateverlololo , @psipies , @howabouticallyou , @roxxie-wolf , @ive-no-idea-what-to-call-this , @fizzled-phoenix , @fjorjestertealeaf , @phobophobular , @surusurusuru , @mariaclarade-la-cruz1 , @whateverlololo , @simplyonehellofanotaku , @xixflower , @i-am-nonbinary-bean-deal-with-it , @roxxie-wolf , @a-case-of-attachment , @multifandomfanatic02 , @watereddownmilk , @raynerrold , @crazii-saber-wolf , @valkyrie-expeditions , @bontensbabygirl , @sillyb0nez , @oo0lady-mad0oo , @jazzmasternot

[cyjammy]

Vox and Valentino: A Display of Trust

VALENTINO AND VOX

Not going to lie, I was the most excited for this dynamic and it just barely beats out Vox and Alastor’s rivalry. For four years they were both the big unknowns only seen for about 30 seconds in the pilot.

There were theories about their dynamic that I hoped to god wouldn’t be true in the show.

Because they didn’t make sense, they looked friendly with each other when they hunkered down for the extermination. And there was no way one sinner (Val) could create an empire alone.

AND I’M SO HAPPY THAT DID NOT HAPPEN.

Valentino being hot headed and brash was not on my 2024 bingo card, but I’m here for it.

(Yes, he’s a bad person. So is everyone else in the show. Alastor hangs out with cannibals and most likely participates. It’s a show about Hell.)

I LOVE HIM. I love everything about him down to the voice, the fluctuating emotions, the drama, the possessiveness — ALL. OF. IT.

I love me some fucking drama and I was LIVING for the back and forth between him and Vox.

Valentino is in charge because of the power he has.

He’s not a words guy, he uses action. He refuses to change his ways because that’s what got him to the top. He’s ready to hunt down Angel just for moving out.

Mind you he still goes to work and fulfills his side of the contract, Valentino just can’t handle not having control.

Micromanaging Angel’s life down to the smallest of details. Controlling who he can talk to, what he can wear.

He wants his plaything back in his sight, he doesn’t want him getting defiant. He wants his leash short so he doesn’t get any ideas.

And the way he gaslights the fuck out of Angel hit hard. Getting away from an abuser and then having the distance you finally need to heal, but being forced to be in contact with them is so restricting that it hurts.

Jesus that was fucking with me.

You don’t necessarily have to be smart to manipulate people, and Val knows that. Val plays the part of the fool so people underestimate him.

He feigns impulsiveness.

When asked for strategic advice he plays dumb.

That’s calculated, and it may just be written off as idiotic, but that’s probably what he wants.

He has to be playing dumb, there is no way he has survived this long by pure luck.

Vox makes do with him by his side because Val can gain trust and place sinners under his spell.

That makes him a valuable asset. Vox supplies the equipment and Valentino supplies the merchandise.

Because that’s all he considers those who are under his employ.

They’re things to be sold to an audience.

But Vox might not see the subtle ways Val messes with him.

Val’s a bratty, unsympathetic, monster that will do anything to get his way. With the guidance of someone with a more grounded personality removed from his issues is when he is able to see reason.

And Velvet can’t even do that, only Vox.

That shows respect and trust.

Even when Vox was spelling it out for him slowly it wasn’t a slight against him, it was a reminder and it held no malice.

If it did, Vox would have lost his temper as he did with Alastor. He kept himself measured for Val and reigned himself back in.

He may know that it won’t get him anywhere after dealing with him for so long. If Vox didn’t see Valentino as a worthwhile investment, he wouldn’t even go through the effort.

Vox knows the best way to get Valentino to listen.

Valentino is extremely self centered. Vox speaks in a way that makes Val want to care, while still making sure it benefits him as well.

“OUR brand”

“Any idea what YOU would look like chasing random whores around town”

“OUR image”

Their partnership is of the upmost importance. Vox needs to make sure the empire remains, that the Vs have their power. That they’re on top.

And that’s a goal Valentino can get behind.

Valentino backs off with disappointment, because he enjoys violence. And he wanted there to be a show.

So instead he throws out something that could really get under Vox’s skin.

Alastor.

Val could have used this information to cripple Vox, make him vulnerable during a time where he needed to stay focused.

But instead, he uses it now.

Val was bored, he knew how Vox would react, and he wanted a show.

And a show he received. Pressing all the right buttons to see his partner go mad.

I want to see more of Valentino. So far his actions could be read as surface level — dumb and erratic — or strategic.

As of now, I’m assuming he knows what he’s doing.

Anger clouds your judgement and both Vox and Val were subject to that effect within a few minutes. That doesn’t necessarily mean Val is a fool and that Vox calls ALL of the shots.

Val acts idiotic around his colleagues because he knows they won’t take advantage of him. Until I see how he is around Angel Dust outside of those voicemails or around his other employees is when that can be settled.

I’m hoping this is a strategic play, because that would be an amazing use of misdirection. All the signs are there, and it could be so.

I also love how Vox is never fearful of Val and vice versa. They both would take steps toward each other that would be misconstrued as advancing toward violence.

Neither flinch. They look a bit surprised, sure, but never scared.

The respect is there and I love the relationship Val and Vox have.

[manias-wordcount]

Stand and Deliver (Akira Tendou)

Kinktober 2024 Day Eleven: Standing Carry

𝙒𝙖𝙣𝙩 𝙩𝙤 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙 𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙚? ⇒ 𝙈𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩

𝙟𝙤𝙞𝙣 𝙢𝙮 𝙙𝙞𝙨𝙘𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙨𝙚𝙧𝙫𝙚𝙧?

𝙗𝙪𝙮 𝙢𝙚 𝙖 𝙘𝙤𝙛𝙛𝙚𝙚?

You knew you had to try your best to stay quiet. But it was really, really, really hard. So Akira had to do his best to shut up you anyway.

“Shh, you’re gonna get us caught.” His voice comes out just by your ear in a tense murmur. You can tell he’s straining a bit himself. It’s apparent in the tightness his voice holds and the rough way he swallows every few seconds- as if holding back his own groans. But still, he’s fairing noticeably better than you at the moment. And you’re thanking your lucky stars for that. Because even though it was his idea, you were the one stupid enough to go along with it. He at least has the decency to be in control of the situation enough for the both of you. Somewhat, anyway. “We don’t want that to happen, right?”

At his last question, his voice takes on a teasing lilt while an all too easygoing smile spreads across his face for the given situation. One that you can’t help but turn your head and glare at. But all too quickly, your glare falls apart- and the two of you know exactly why too. After all, it’s not exactly easy staying mad at the very guy who’s currently lifting you in his arms and fucking into you. Even while there’s a group of zombies on the other side of the door. 

It’s one hundred percent his fault the two of you are here right now instead of at a nearby safe house. And knowing him, you figure he would take responsibility for it full-heartedly since he’s currently having such a good time. 

He told you this morning that he wanted to check out one of the stores he would often stop by after work and he wanted you to come with him as his back-up. He said it was the type of place that had absolutely everything and was often overlooked. The chance of it being raided already was a fair one, but you knew it wouldn’t hurt to look for yourself. And when the two of you got there, you both were able to find a few hidden gems that made the trip worth taking. But when a horde of zombies started to lurk near the store entrance, the two of you decided to barricade yourself in and hunker down until it was deemed safe enough to leave and deliver the supplies back to the safe house. 

That was nearly an hour ago. There wasn’t much to do to pass the time though. Not much to talk about. Not much to see either. So you both spent your time looking over every crack and crevice in the store, carefully making sure you didn’t miss anything. Well, at least that's what you were doing. Because before you knew it, you had your boyfriend standing behind you, resting his hands on your hips and grinding into your softly. Then you blinked. 

And just like that- your pants were in a pile on the floor next to his and his cock was slipping in and out of your pussy while your hands clung onto his neck for dear life.

“A…Aki-” In a struggle to keep your voice lower than a whisper, you only manage to get half of his name out before you find yourself having to squeeze your eyes shut and bite your lip hard in an attempt to keep a few moans from escaping. Your boyfriend is quick to nuzzle into you, place his lips on yours, and kiss you deeply. It’s an action that you usually find cute. Although, you could instantly tell he was doing it to muffle your sounds and to keep you both from getting caught. But it was whatever- at least he’s a good kisser. And besides, it’s his fault for this too. He had a knack for making sure you always got loud with him.

Just like everything today, it was his idea to fuck you like this. It was his idea to take you in his arms, hold you above the ground, and bounce you on his dick as if you weighed absolutely nothing. He said he felt bad when he thought about making you ride him on the dirty, dirty ground. He couldn’t do that to you. He couldn’t do that you were you were already being kind enough to let him rut into you so he could release the dull ache that was starting to build up in his boner.

But you know him too well- you know this is one of his favorite positions because it makes you as desperate as him. You know this is one of his favorite positions because it always has you moaning right into his ear as his thick cock aims for all the right spots inside of your pussy in ways that have you wanting to sob out loud and call out his name. You know this is one of his favorite positions because it leaves you helpless and him with all the control. Your feet are off the ground and there’s nowhere for you to run or to ease the feeling you get whenever his tip presses against your g-spot. Meanwhile, he gets to spend every single moment in this position with his hands on your ass as he lifts you up and down and up and down on his cock. It allows him to feel you up and grope at the curve of your backside while your chest presses against his. It allows him to feel powerful and forget about how the two of you were stuck in the store, to begin with.

It allows him to fuck you the way that he wants to. And while you just sit back and enjoy the ride.

‘Shh. I know, I know.” He murmurs to you the second he breaks the kiss. His eyes are half-lidded and his stare is heavy as his eyes flicker towards the trail of the saliva that’s connecting you both- evidence of a more than sloppy kiss. He still looks hungry for it. He still looks hungry for you. But you both need to start being more careful. And that’s gonna have to start with him finding a way to keep you quiet for once. Though luckily, an idea must have sprung to him rather quickly. Because all of a sudden, he’s slowing his pace just a bit and cranes his next in a way that exposes more of it than usual to you. “Here, bite my shoulder.”

You hesitate when he offers it to you. It’s just a spot of his neck that is a little more exposed than usual due to the way his shirt hangs off of his body. Even so, you hesitate. Usually, it’s Akira who is the one being a little rough with you. Not the other way around. But you know he could take it. In fact, you think he deserves a rather hard bite from you right about now considering all that he’s put you through. And you know it would it make it easier for you to stay quiet. And easier for him to fuck you without worry. 

And easier for both of you to cum…

“Fuck…that’s it.” Your boyfriend groans lowly as you sink your teeth into his flesh. It’s awkward and you realize you’re not the biggest fan of biting him. But it makes it almost infinitely easier for you to muffle your moans now that your mouth is preoccupied with something. So that makes it infinitely easier for him to bounce you on his cock. “Good girl…take it just like that…”

So that is exactly what he does. That’s exactly what you do too.

You let him spend the next couple of minutes grunting quietly while he ruts into your warm, wet pussy desperately. You let him- because you're far too busy going cross-eyed and drooling at the near-constant feeling of something pressing up against your g-spot and causing you to clench up and dig your nails into just apart any part of him that you can. You let him because the two of you needed something to do while passing the time. You let him because the two of you needed something to do to let off steam. You let him because it- because you- feel too good to listen or use reason anymore. So you just won’t. And besides, right about now? 

You’d rather be eaten by zombies than not cum on Akira’s cock after all this.

[tmntforeverinmyheart]

I unironically love the mutant apocalypse, and really wish there was more content of it. I mean it paved the way for rises future that fans seem to worship. It’s unfortunate that the designs kinda sucked (looking at you leo) and how the bridge between the mutagen bomb and 50 years into the further is basically unknown. Like how did leo of all people become a cruel wasteland king? What tragic accident befell casey, april and karai for them to be nonexistent? What did raph and donnie do for 50 years? What happened to mikey to make him go crazy? So many questions left unanswered, so im gonna make content of my version of the mutant apocalypse for awhile cause i love them, it feeds my angsty soul lol

Leo retains bits and pieces of his past life. Unfortunately most of his memories have become disconnected from each other. He remembers a man or a mutant? Spikes of metal and skin, silver armour encasing his whole body, the man’s heart, pulsing with green. Green what? Leo didn’t know. He remembers colours, red, purple and orange. One radiating warmth and a fiery temper, one cold and calculating but with a softness, one filled with love and brightness. What do they mean? He thought back to the man (mutant?) how monstrous he looked. looking down at himself he could see the resemblance between the memory and his reality. The man felt most familiar, and unlike the colours was more in focus. He carried an air of superiority and held himself with pride. Leo wanted to be like him. A path has been chosen for him and he will follow it.

Note: Leo does not actually remember his name, I just wanted to make it obvious who the character was.

Tw blood

Donnie and Raph stayed together. Raph had to be his younger brothers protector, in this strange new world their ninja skills wouldn’t be enough, not in the state they were in. They wandered together, searching for their missing family members. Surviving on through the ever changing climate on scraps, raw meat, mutant flesh, it didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered was staying alive and finding their brothers.

Mikey was separated from his brothers in the aftermath of the mutagen bomb, Eventually finding his way back to the sewer. His home was in disarray. Luckily he still had one friend he could count on. Ice cream kitty practically hug-attacked mikey when he opened the freezer. Mikey stayed in his home, finishing off the food in the fridge and cupboard. There wasn’t much to do really. He played cards with kitty. Failed to meditate, and looked at old photos. 10 years passed by and eventually the fridge and freezer stopped working and he had to go searching for another safe haven to keep his friend from melting. He found a still working pizza place and hunkered down. This pattern continued for a number of years. He traveled all over New York to different grocery, ice cream and pizza stores to keep kitty alive. Mikey became sickly from eating so much outdated and even moldy food. Mikey had to resort to eating his infinite ice cream friend. He grew hair at some point, which was odd (he didn’t even know that was possible), it was curly and unkept. He would braid his hair into different shapes to pass the time. The world around him was crumbling, seeming more and more out of a sci-fi movie everyday. He stayed in his head a lot, imagining a whole new reality where he still had his family. But he couldn’t completely discount his reality, after all he had ice cream kitty.

Until he didn’t…

During his travels, Leo met many mutants. One in particular just wouldn’t leave him alone. Their first encounter was a battle over a rotten carcass. She attacked, wrapping her long body around his lower leg, cutting off his circulation. He attacked her back, swiping at her with his claws. He remembered the man with the spikes, and manipulated the skin of his arm, forming two hard spikes, he swiped at her again. She backed off with a haunted look in her eyes. “Shredder” she said quietly, before slithering away.

[luminouslywriting]

Hiya,

I hope you are doing OK and recuperating after your surgery. Absolutely love our writing! Please could you do headcanons or a one shot for one of the Masters of the Air men and a crippling shy oc. I'm so shy, especially in social situations and this is very self-indulgent. No worries if not :)

Hi sweet Nonny! I appreciate your kindness! My surgery is next week (on the 21st) and I am so grateful for you checking in on me! My requests are open and I seriously love this one 🥰

Cut for length, more under the cut:

Bucky Egan:

-This man can be a lot for people at times, but he also cares more deeply than anyone else

-He’s attentive to social and physical cues for anxiety

-Is a cuddle bug when it comes to you being anxious

-Loves being able to just hold you on his lap or sit with his arm around you in social interactions and is very happy to take over and be the social one

-He loves feeling like he’s taking care of you and loves getting to be gentle and calm with you….it also helps him clear his head

-Definitely knows all the words to your favorite songs and sings them to you when you’re upset

-And he loves bringing you flowers to cheer you up

Gale Cleven:

-Soft energy KING!! This man right here is so understanding and sweet about your shyness and is absolutely your rock

-Is really attentive in public and encourages you to drink water or to take things at your own pace

-Is very physically there for you and a grounding presence in times of anxiousness

-Since Gale doesn’t like being out a lot anyway, he’s more than happy to have a night in with you

-Whispers sweet assurances to you in your ear

-Also very good at talking through how you’re feeling and prefers to be communicative

-Gives the best hugs when you’re anxious

Rosie Rosenthal:

-Literally a hype king and always down for whatever you’re feeling. Whether you’re anxious or want to try something out, he’ll be right by your side. -Is super tender and patient with you, especially when you’re taking the time to try and express yourself

-Does his own research about anxiety and might propose helpful ideas for how to make life easier for you

-Loves the quiet moments when it’s just the two of you and you’re able to be open

-Forehead kisses when you’re anxious

-Literally just wants to hug you and make sure you never cry ever

John Brady:

-A patient listener who quietly reassures you that he’s always going to be there for you

-He’s fairly quiet and chill himself, AND he’s very attentive. Because he’s a giver, he’s going to constantly be looking for things to brighten you up or help ease your anxiety. -Probably the type to get into meditations for anxiety to help you with positive affirmations

-He likes going out just fine but if he knows that you’re not, this man is PREPARED to hunker down and just give you some loving. -Discovers that music and rhythm really help when you’re anxious and he’s always prepared to step in with his instruments or with a steady beat that you can count. -Also a massive cuddles and loves being able to hold you….he treasures this time

-Always takes the time to tell you how brave you are and how proud he is of you and how much he loves you