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

[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

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.

~~~~~~~☆~~~~~

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[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. 

[poppy-metal]

idk if u plan on making clingy!Reader an AU but I imagine the first time they hook up she’s just crying and babbling about how thankful she is for this, that he’s the first guy to ever want her, no one would even look at her ,, and Patrick just kinda melts and goes even harder

This may or may not be a tad bit self indulgent 🙂‍↕️ (ugly loser core)

please patrick taking readers virginity is so 🥺 he doesn't expect it to be a big deal - i mean, he knows it is for you - and he'll make it good, of course - you're not the first virgin hes fucked, and a part of him likes it. the scummy part - the part that likes that hes leaving a mark, not on your particularly, but on anyone. virginity is a construct blah blah blah, whatever - he's your first. you'll remember him. he's important, he matters.

he knows he's a bit fucked when you shake under him - and he has the urge to soothe you - so he does. strokes his hand up your trembling thigh and tells you how pretty your pussy is - parts your shining lips with his fingers and has to swallow because fuck you're small down there. he knows he's gonna stretch you out and you're gonna choke his cock - fuck, fuck fuck.

he pumps you full of his finger - crammed tight in your wet squelching cunt - forcing it open as you twitch and whine and you're so cute, you grip onto his forearm where its flexing and you let out these little hitching breaths - cant get out full sentences, hes already making you feel so good.

he wants to put his tongue on your pussy - wants to spread you all the way open as wide as he can so he can lick you where you're all pink and wet inside - tongue your clit till you cry because if you're this overwhelmed by his fingers his tongue will drive you insane. and that's bad because this is a one time thing and he knows he's not sticking around for a second, even if your sounds are cute and your pussy is so fucking hot and tight and he wants to lean down and really make you gush on his face - tongue down between your cheeks until he - but no.

he fists his cock and when he works it inside you he looks down at where you're struggling to take him in but fuck, you take it. the flared lips of your cunt splayed around the thick intrusion of the first cock in your body - he should've fucked you on a nicer bed - not his shitty fucking box spring that creaks under his knees as he forces more of himself into you - you deserve better but it doesn't matter, does it because you picked him and you're fucking gagging for it -

"so big - so big, i - oh its -"

and you reach down to feel where hes splitting you open - eyes wide in wonder like you can't believe he fits - that you're really being penetrated by a cock - and its thick and heavy and wide and pushing pushing pushing - making room where you thought there was none.

"patrick -"

you say it kind of helplessly - like you're almost scared, shocked by how much you like this new feeling. your eyes roll back and then he feels your walls clamping around him and fuck - he looks down, lips parted -

"oh fuck, baby - are you coming?"

he cant believe it. not the coming part - he's fucking golden on making people cum on his dick. its the fact that its your first time and he hasn't even gotten to the whole fucking part of you know, fucking - and you're already spasming around him and arching like its an exorcism and jesus christ he thinks this is the most turned on he's ever been in his life.

he hunkers down over you, knees sliding against the backs of your shaking thighs to spread them wide - bears down and starts working his hips - needs to feel that pussy as it cums on his dick for the first time - you wail. hands flying up to his shoulders like you dont know if you want to claw him closer or push him away.

he makes the decision for you - overpowering you easily with your wrists in his hands, pinned down on either side of you - legs forced apart to bear the brunt of his thrusts -

he gets in your face. the dogtag necklace he wears bumping your chin as his lips skim yours - "that's so fucking hot - little virgin pussy likes this big dick inside er'? dont push me away - you fucking came all over me - can fucking feel it on my balls, you little slut - fuck -" you're going cross eyed at his thrusts at his words - he can feel the effect of it, the ripple of that pussy right on the veins of his dick as he fucking pounds you. "- was gonna be gentle but you fucking botched that - you fucking take this cock -"

he thinks you're perfect - perfect and beautiful and you cling to him and take everything he gives you like its the best thing you've ever felt. his lips crash against yours - less of a kiss and more of just a hungry mawing - you open your mouth to him and let him lick inside it - fuck his tongue down your throat and when he pulls back and wraps a hand around your throat, testing, you arch into it.

and when he says "open your mouth." it opens, wide and pink inside - and when he fucking spits in it and tells you to swallow that shit you do that too, a dazed look in your eye and he realizes you'd probably let him do anything to you.

and that might be too much power for him to have.

[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.”

[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.

[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

[superlarva]

Modern AU kid Domino Squad! Cutup (back left), Hevy (back right), Fives (front left), Droidbait (front middle), Echo (front right). I felt the need to make them all look different since quintuplets would be a bit out of place in a modern AU, so Cutup, Hevy, and Droidbait are adopted.

Okay, I know it's been a few weeks, but I promise I'm still here and still working on Raising Dominoes. Life's just been super busy and I had to put in extra hours at the lab these past few weekends.

Anyways, here is Chapter 11 - Memories. And on a Saturday, not a Sunday! :)

Prologue: 00 Previous chapter: 10

Summary: Rex battles guilt and Echo recalls the events leading up to his hospitalization.

CW: Child abuse, death, death of children, guilt, missing limbs, hospitals, explosions. Heed the warnings on this one, friends. It's not a fun time for the boys.

Chapter 11 - Memories

Rex woke from an uncomfortable sleep as the first rays of sunlight began to illuminate the hospital room. He had not had the heart to separate the twins while they were sleeping, so he had hunkered down in the chair by the boy’s bedside for the night. Now his neck and back ached and he had pins and needles in his legs.

A quick look at the boys and he could see they were still sleeping. In the night they had drifted away from each other. Fives was now sprawled out on the bed, lying on his stomach like a starfish, leaving Echo a tiny sliver of space, and even that was invaded by Fives’s elbow.

Rex smiled to himself and gently moved Fives’s arm to his side so the boy would not accidentally take out one of his brother’s eyes. Luckily the kid was out cold and did not stir at his touch.

Now that he was up, Rex stretched and lazily strolled across the room to the window. Cody would have loved the view. The sun peaked between skyscrapers, casting the streets below in harsh shadows and warm light. From the way the whole city was bathed in orange it looked like a mild autumn morning despite the frigid temperatures Rex knew were on the other side of the glass.

He did not know how long he stood there, staring out the window and watching the cars march by in the lines of morning traffic like ants. He let his mind wander freely, enjoying the peaceful quiet of dawn. His brain had been working in overdrive constantly the past four days, always worried or planning. It felt nice to turn it off for a few seconds, doing a hard reboot and getting himself back on track.

Eventually the sound of the door opening caught Rex’s attention. Kix nodded to him from the doorway and strode over to the bed to change out Echo’s med bag.

“Hey,” Rex called softly, abandoning his post by the window and moving to stand beside the doctor. “Shouldn’t you be at home? It’s Saturday.”

Kix shrugged, focused on checking up on Echo, “I guess I picked up an extra shift.”

“What about Dogma and Tup?”

“Jesse’s got them,” Kix shrugged again, his tone nonchalant. He scrawled something quickly on his clipboard and then turned to Rex and nodded to the door, “Let’s talk outside.”

Rex followed Kix outside Echo’s room without complaint, and sat when Kix motioned to a bench in the hallway.

Kix sat next to him, sighing heavily, and running a hand through his intricate buzzcut, “Echo’s doing really well. Even better since you and Fives arrived.”

Rex nodded.

“If everything continues to go well, we should be able to discharge him this Wednesday. We have to ween him off the meds and make sure he won’t be in too much pain when you take him home. At this point, that’s really all he’s here for. The medication, sterile environment, and so that we can monitor the healing process.”

“So, he’s going to be okay?”

Kix smiled, leaning back, and resting his head against the wall, “That’s one resilient kid you got, Rex. It’ll take time, but he’ll be alright.”

“Good…” Rex trailed off his mind already whizzing over a million different questions. What if he was not? What if he healed physically, but could not mentally or emotionally? What if he hated him? What if he’d never be able to gain the kid’s trust? What if-

“Rex,” Kix laid a hand on Rex’s violently bouncing knee, and Rex instinctively jerked away from the touch. Kix frowned, retracting his arm, “More importantly, are you going to be alright?”

“‘More importantly?’” Rex scoffed. He turned his head away from Kix, choosing to focus on the checkered floor pattern instead. Echo was the one in the hospital, not him.

“Yeah, ‘more importantly,’” Kix hunched over, bracing his elbows on his knees before lowering his voice and continuing, “Listen to me, Rex. I don’t know a lot about what those boys have gone through, but if it’s anything half as bad as my boys—and I’m confident it’s worse—you’re going to need to be strong for them.”

Kix’s eyes flicked over to Rex to ensure his friend was still paying attention, “You’re going to have to show them they can trust you over and over and over again. And once you think they finally do, you’re going to do something that’s going to mess it all up. You’re going to have to start from square one.”

Rex was about to interject, but Kix held up a hand, “Listen, I’m telling you this because I want you to be prepared. I want this to end well. For that to happen, you need to show them how to be strong and learn to trust again. You won’t be able to do that if you let yourself get overwhelmed.”

“I-” Rex stuttered, voice caught in his throat, leg bouncing erratically again. He shook his head as if to shake unpleasant thoughts from his mind.

“Please don’t live in the past, Rex. Please. I don’t want that for you, and I don’t want that for your boys.”

Rex turned to Kix, eyes full of desperation, “How? How can I not live in the past? Look at what she did to them! Look at what I did to them! I should have been there. If I had been there-”

Rex broke off, hands trembling in his lap, a pained smile stretching across his face.

“You have to understand it’s not your fault. I know that’s hard, but what happened to them is not your fault. It’s not.”

Kix paused for a second, letting Rex meet his eyes before continuing, “What will happen to them will be. So, let’s make sure that it’s your fault that they smile. That they laugh and play and miss you when you’re gone. Make sure it’s your fault they’re happy.”

Rex shook his head, “And if I can’t?”

“You can. I know you can. And Cody and I will always be here to help, okay?”

Rex shrugged.

Kix nudged him in the arm, a slight smile spreading up the corners of his mouth, “Heck, even Jesse wants to help out. He’s been complaining that he’s the only one that hasn’t met them yet.”

Rex let out a clipped chuckle at the idea of his twins meeting Kix’s younger brother, “Yeah, okay.”

Echo woke to an aching pain coursing through his body and a familiar white light as he blinked himself awake. He must have overdone it during training yesterday. Must have hit his head too with the way it pounded.

He could feel the warmth of Fives’s body next to his left side just like every morning, but the space on the cot to his right was cold and empty. Where was Droidbait?

Echo reached out to feel for his younger brother but retracted his arm when all he found was a fistful of air.

Gone.

The world pitched around Echo. He blinked trying to block out the blinding light and sinking feeling in his gut and focus. He felt sluggish and fuzzy like he had been sedated, but he could not remember doing anything wrong. No, if he had done something bad, he would be in isolation. It would be cold and dark, and Fives would not be beside him.

Then Droidbait must have been in isolation. What could his youngest brother have done? Why could he not remember?

His head, right. His head. He must have hit his head.

Echo reached over to Fives, about to shake his twin awake when he stopped, pulling back his arm as if it had been burned.

Something was not right.

The light was slowly turning from the intense white to a warm orange as his eyes adjusted. It looked like sunlight. But that could not be right. There were no windows in their room, just a single exposed bulb that’s harsh light reflected on the white floors and walls.

No. This was wrong.

Echo tried to sit up, tried to look for Droidbait, Hevy and Cutup as his eyes gradually focused on the room around him. Tried to make sense of the bed he was on and the machines surrounding him.

He could not. Could not sit up. Could not see his brothers.

Then he could not stop himself from remembering.

Remembering Hevy’s plan.

They were going to escape. Going to climb over the wall during their morning drills. He had thought it was a bad idea. Mom told them not to go near the citadel walls. She had warned them bad things would happen. Cutup said she was probably lying. He had said she would not be watching. Echo did not agree.

She was always watching.

Droidbait was scared. He had said over and over that he did not want to go. That he was afraid. That they would not make it over the wall. That she would find them even if they did.

As soon as the drill started Hevy had grabbed him. Dragged their youngest brother after him. Cutup had followed just behind, leaving Echo to wake up Fives.

Fives never woke to the alarm. Echo thought the flashing red lights and the incessant ringing would have been enough to wake a dead man, but Fives never so much as stirred. Echo had to shake him.

Fives had not been sure about Hevy’s plan either. He had said that even if they cleared the wall and made it down to the other side, what would they do next? Where would they go? But when the time came, he was on board. If Hevy and Cutup and Droidbait were doing it, so was he.

If Fives was doing it, so was Echo.

They had run down the hall and out through the normally bolted shut doors. The doors outside only opened during morning drill. Echo knew. This had not been the first time they had tried to escape.

By the time he and Fives had made it out into the yard, his adopted brothers were already scaling the wall. Cutup was nearly at the top and Hevy was helping Droidbait a few feet below.

No one had stopped them.

Fives ran to the wall. Echo followed.

They were doing this now.

No turning back.

About halfway up Echo heard the first explosion. He heard Droidbait screaming Cutup’s name. His voice had been laden with fear and grief. He heard Hevy yelling at Droidbait, begging him not to move. He heard Fives whimper quietly next to him.

When Echo pulled himself up onto the top of the wall he saw Hevy crouched next to Droidbait’s foot. He saw his youngest brother’s eyes wide with terror, staring at the place where the explosion had been. He saw the pile of rubble. He saw Cutup’s eyes staring blankly up at the sky from under the settling dust.

Hevy had turned to him and Fives and moved aside so they could see the dark olive cylinder resting under Droidbait’s foot. Droidbait stared at the rubble, repeating Cutup’s name over and over, his voice hollow and quiet.

Hevy had hesitated looking from their baby brother’s foot to his lost expression before turning back to the twins.

“You take him and you go,” Hevy had ordered.

Echo watched as he yanked the mine out from under Droidbait’s foot and curled his body over it in one fluid motion. He had been trying to stop the explosion from harming anyone but himself.

It had not worked.

Hevy was blown back towards the twins, a mess of blood and flesh. Droidbait was pushed backwards from the force and teetered on the edge of the wall.

Fives screamed and rushed forwards, reaching out a hand.

He had not been fast enough.

Droidbait fell.

Echo remembered the sound it made when his little brother hit the ground.

He doubted he would ever forget.

Echo did not remember much after that. He must have stepped on one of the mines as well, considering the state of his body. He looked over at his brother, making sure his brother really was as unharmed as he had seemed the day before.

Fives seemed fine, and Echo closed his eyes again to block out the too bright light before they flew open in surprise as the door to his room creaked open.

That man was standing there, the one who had brought Fives. The one named Rex. He looked like the other one—Cody—but with shorter blond hair instead of the longer dark curls that matched him and his brother.

Cody had come a lot to visit. Echo barely remembered much from the past few days, but it seemed every time he woke, he had been there, sitting at his bedside, quietly reading a book of some sort. He had thought Cody was his dad at first. It made sense, they looked just like each other, and why else would anyone take an interest in him.

When Echo had asked, Cody had smiled and said that his dad was taking care of Fives, that he was his uncle, that his dad’s name was Rex.

Rex.

His dad.

The guy had seemed nice enough yesterday, but Echo knew better than to believe his charade. Besides, Echo did not want a dad. He wanted his brothers back.

Echo must have let his face show too much disgust when Rex came into his view, as the man quickly rushed to his side, “Are you okay?”

Echo narrowed his eyes. Rex sounded like Fives any time Echo or one of their other brothers got hurt during drills. His voice was soft and gentle, even caring, and Echo was taken aback. It sounded genuine.

“Fine,” Echo mumbled, voice scratchy.

The man hovered awkwardly by the side of the bed for another moment before nodding and sitting slowly in the chair, “Your brother’s still sleeping, huh?”

Echo nodded, waiting for the command to wake his twin and rob him of a few more precious minutes of sleep.

It did not come.

Instead, Rex passed a small book to Echo, and pressed a finger to his lips, “We’ll have to be quiet, then.”

Echo watched as Rex took out a book of his own and flipped to a page in the middle, his head bowed as he read silently. The boy looked down at the book clutched in his hand. It appeared to be some sort of fiction book based on the colorful cover.

Echo snuck a glance at the blond man. He was still engrossed in his novel. The boy cautiously opened to the first page, chancing another look at Rex. Just because he was handed the book did not mean he was allowed to read it. The blond man looked up at the sound of the page crinkling, met his gaze for half a second, flashed a quick smile, and then went back to reading.

Echo followed suit.

Maybe his dad was not so bad.

Just maybe.

@marierg @stressed-cherry @ffdemon @renton6echo @bambambunny @tearfulsolace @rndmpeep @brokenphoenix99 @nerdy-valkyrie @xylionet @tazmbc1 @eyayah123 @the-bad-batch-baroness @sarcastic-nebula @ihaventpickedausername @sexysmeagolshitposting @emma-1409 @marcadamia

[bellygunnr]

Broken Out of Time

A commission piece for @bloodgulchblog -- a Pilot/Chief fluff piece. This was really fun to write.

----

"Joy."

John sinks down into a crouch, hunkering further down behind the worn boulders they'd been using for cover. The elements of his HUD jitter as Joyeuse shifts attention, which he also feels in the connection between his NI and armor, which some part of him translates into fingers trying to tickle his neck. It's uncomfortable.

"Joyeuse," he says, firm. "Where'd Esparza go?"

She makes a humming sound. John takes stock of their surroundings while she plays nice with components of his armor, cycling through the various scanning functions to locate their wayward civilian.

"I thought you were watching him," she replies-- with enough grace to sound slightly abashed and guilty.

He grunts and detaches his pistol from the magclamps on his thigh.

"And I thought we were watching the birds," he returns evenly.

They were watching the birds, to be fair. Zeta Halo differed from his previous experiences on Forerunner structures in that it had a functioning… ecosystem… of sorts. With the remaining UNSC forces securing a tight foothold, he'd felt he could start relaxing his stranglehold on procedure and start-- something. Appreciating things. As it turns out, false suns feel just as warm as real ones.

"It's a little disconcerting to see birds use brass shells for mating displays," Joyeuse says. "Fernando doesn't have any proper IFF markers. I don't know…"

And he'd-- what? Relaxed enough to let a civilian sneak off into unknown territory and get himself lost? He twists around, staring intensely at his surroundings, waiting for details to seep out of the long grass and compacted dirt, like remnants of Esparza would suddenly make themselves known.

And they did-- eventually. Boot prints. Impressions of knees in the dirt. Headed further away. John carefully follows the tracks and picks his way down the rocks, closer to the thin bubbling creek that coalesces into a river in the distance. Joyeuse casts out another round of scans.

Ah.

John forgoes scaling the remainder of the terrain in favor of dropping down right behind his charge. Or, he would have, if Joyeuse didn't throw out the mental equivalent of an arm across his chest.

He freezes in place. Esparza lays prone in the grass. She highlights a handful of silhouettes. Ah.

Esparza must have snuck off to obtain a closer look at a different set of wildlife. Zeta Halo also possessed a number of rodent-like creatures (that the marines and personnel made quick work of eating). He sees them now, dipping their naked heads into the water for a drink.

Briefly, he wonders if the rings are capable of seasons. Then he shunts that thought aside and hunkers down beside Esparza.

"Hello," John intones.

Esparza jumps in his skin and bites his tongue on a yell. John stifles a surge of mixed emotions -- guilt and pride, mostly, with a tinge of amusement.

"Wear a bell," Esparza says, shaking his head.

"You snuck off first."

He blinks at John, expression scrunching up, radiating surprise.

"Guess I did."

John shifts his position in tiny increments. He doesn't want to disturb Esparza, nor does he want to disturb the animals they're watching. But this particular area has even fewer sightlines than the outcropping and it's-- rankling him, might be the word. Yeah, the sergeant uses that word a lot. Now it's in his vocabulary.

Joyeuse's good humor at the phenomena is a burst of sunlight down his spine.

"My house was on a prairie," Esparza says suddenly. "Country home. You know. So we got a lot of critters like that in the evening."

One of the rodents stands upright.

John casts back for a memory, maybe something to relate to Esparza (as he can learn to converse, Cortana would be--), and makes a listening grunt.

"My kid learned pretty quick about the circle of life though," he finishes. "Or…"

He trails off, stymied by the ground shaking seconds before the vibrations sink into the Mjolnir. Two of the rodents bolt off into the grass. The third lunges into the water and paddles determinedly to the other bank. This puts it within throwing distance of them for all of a second before it vanishes into the ground.

Joyeuse had been correct about the burrows, then.

Esparza opens his mouth and snaps it shut as the air around them rapidly shifts. A crimson Banshee roars overhead, followed by an UNSC aircraft.

"Let's move," John says.

He instinctively reaches over to Esparza, but his charge is already on his feet and retreating. More guilt and pride assaults him but he stuffs it down in favor of hurrying back to the Warthog on which they came. Joyeuse automatically switches over to friendly radio chatter and yeah-- that's contact.

Banished making a move on the local FOB.

"Can never catch a break, can we, big guy?" Esparza laughs.

John waits excruciating seconds for Esparza to buckle in before flooring it.

No, they can't. But the lulls are nice while they last. He thinks Esparza understands when their hands overlap on the shifter.

[odinsblog]

“It was December 1993, and I was sitting in my flat in Moscow, watching what must have been one of the first ever election night results shows on Russian television for a Parliamentary election.

It was an unusual spectacle, to say the least. Politicians, pundits and Russian officials were sitting around drinking champagne. And then this happened: On came an astrologer to deliver his celestial political forecast.

Looking back, it was quite appropriate really, because 30 years ago, Russians had stars in their eyes about freedom, democracy, and their country's future. That night, as well as electing a new parliament, the Duma, Russians also approved a new constitution. The constitution which, many years later, Vladimir Putin would change through a referendum to give himself the chance of twelve more years in power.

For a Russian election these days, you don't need astrologers or fortune tellers or crystal balls. I can tell you now pretty much what the result of next March's Russian presidential election will be. Vladimir Putin will win, and with a landslide.

There are several reasons for my confident prediction.

Russia's current political system is Putin's political system, his rules, his election. And although his will not be the only name on the ballot, his opponents are unlikely to include Mr. Putin's most vocal critics, arch rivals, and serious contenders. The president's most high profile opponents have either been poised, fled into exile or been put in prison. What's more, the Kremlin controls television. Vladimir Putin receives lots of airtime, and on tv, he's much praised, never criticized. Handy that, when you're seeking reelection.

And there's another reason he'll do well.

Meet Alexander. Alexander is a young tv reporter from northeastern Russia. At Vladimir Putin's end-of-year press conference recently, he stood up and declared, ‘We all support your decision to run in next year's election, because you've been in power for as long as I can remember.’ There are many Russians like Alexander who simply cannot imagine anyone else in the Kremlin, not because they idolize Vladimir Putin, they just see no alternative to him. I've often heard people here say, ‘Well, if not Putin, who then?’ The Kremlin has engineered that. It has cleared the political landscape of any potential challenges to the man who has ruled Russia as president or prime minister for nearly a quarter of a century, to make sure that those two words, that little question, ‘who then?’ is left unanswered.

Even the war in Ukraine and what are believed to be huge Russian military losses, don't appear to have sparked disillusionment in Russia's President and Commander-in-Chief.

It was Putin's decision to launch the full scale invasion, but some Russians believe that at a time of war, it is their duty to back their leader without questioning his motives or the consequences.

Crucially, the other thing you find a lot of here is indifference. Many Russians don't seem to care who's in power in the Kremlin. They just hunker down in their town or village and try to get through life as best they can. Indifference, too, benefits Vladimir Putin.

For all these reasons, his fifth election victory isn't in doubt.

But what I find much harder to predict is Russia's future. These are very dark times. Darkest, of course, for Ukraine, but for Russia, too. You can feel aggression in Russian society building. You can see repression growing, and you can see a leader who is determined, whatever the cost, to emerge from this war the winner.”

—Steve Rosenberg, BBC's Moscow correspondent, on Russia’s short lived democracy turned autocratic dictatorship

[thecrusadercomrade]

How do you think the final two episodes of Season Two would've went if Sarah actually survived and not died because the writers left her on standby like and NPC? Would she have made it to The Final Season?

(Bonus if you can squeeze Luke or Nick into the equation) because they didn't deserve what they were given.

Okay! For the sake of fulfilling your bonus request, I'll say that Nick survived the trailer park. He wasn't shot, or bitten, or whatever it was that actually resulted in his death. Working together with Jane, they're able to lift the debris off of Sarah and save her life during the big walker attack.

Sarah isn't going to be doing much for the rest of episode four, since she's still basically in shock. Nick sides with Luke during the argument about whether to let Rebecca rest or set out immediately, and so the group hunkers down for a few days at the observation tower.

Wow, this is REALLY long. Adding a Read More here so that it's not taking up your entire dashboard if you don't want to read it.

During the fight with the Russians, Nick tackles Sarah to the ground to get her out of the line of fire, saving both of their lives. Due to their similar circumstances of having lost their dad/father figure and being seen as a liability by others, Nick has a soft spot for Sarah and focuses on looking out for her.

Over the course of episode five as they travel towards the half-built house, Sarah slowly starts to come out of her shell a little bit, though she only really talks with Clementine and Nick. She spends time bonding with them even as the rest of the group is falling apart, a little bit of peace even as the rest of the group falls apart. Seeing how injured everyone is, Sarah starts to express interest in learning medical skills like her dad, though of course they don't have any supplies for her to start learning at the moment.

Nick is on Luke's side for all the arguments that take place in episode five, but when Luke dies at the lake, Nick blames himself for not being able to keep the walkers at bay well enough. Nick is so angry in the aftermath, that when Kenny starts beating on Arvo, accidentally hitting Clementine and terrifying Sarah, Nick gets into a physical altercation with Kenny to make him stop. It only ends when Jane comes into the room with the duffel bags.

Skipping forward a bit, things mostly go the same with Bonnie, Mike, and Arvo stealing the supplies, though Nick also grows increasingly tense with Kenny due to their earlier fight. Nick doesn't have a much higher opinion of Jane due to her thinking Sarah is a liability.

When the fight at the rest stop happens, Sarah pretty much shuts down with fear. Nick keeps Clementine back, and he's the one to interfere in the fight instead. Rather than try to physically break things up, he fires a gun between them, forcing them to stop. The sound of the gunshot causes AJ to start crying, revealing his survival.

With Kenny having shown how dangerous he can be, and Jane's deception revealed, Nick is finally fed up. He decides that he and Sarah are leaving on their own before either of the two can get them killed, and he invites Clementine to come along as well. For the purposes of this ask, I'll say that Clementine accepts.

Jane protests, but Kenny agrees that he's no longer safe, telling them to take AJ as well and raise him right. So Nick, Sarah, Clementine, and AJ depart the rest stop together, leaving Kenny and Jane behind.

I don't want to write out all of ANF, but I'll say that Sarah learns some medical skills in the New Frontier, and when they're kicked out she apprentices under Eleanor to keep learning, earning their little group a permanent spot in Prescott. She'll be very disappointed when Eleanor betrays them all.

I'd say they have a decent chance of making it to the Final Season. Maybe Nick would die in season three, but overall ANF wasn't quite as bad about wiping out the entire cast as previous seasons, and since Clementine and her group aren't the main focus of the season, they stand a good chance of making it through. Sarah will never be some epic walker killer, but she knows how to defend herself by this point, and she's a really good medic, not to mention still really friendly. I think she'd be alright.

Sorry if this was really rambly. It ended up way longer than I expected XD.