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lambtotheslaughterr · 10 months ago

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When The Bough Breaks : Part Nine

A Rafe Cameron Mini Series

[THIS STORY WILL CONTAIN THEMES OF NON-CON/DUB-CON, MENTAL-EMOTIONAL-PHYSICAL ABUSE, ETC. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK. 18+. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT]

WC: 4.5k

Dividers provided by @firefly-graphics

PART EIGHT | MASTERLIST | FINALE

It made your skin crawl having Ward Cameron sit across from you at your dining room table, in your home. Like his son, you knew well enough that he was no good & anywhere he went he only wreaked havoc. Now there they both sat at your table; Rafe on your right & Ward across from you. You felt like your lungs would collapse any second.

“I’ve known about your trysts for some time now.” He started out. You swallowed.

“When you have a son like I do, you learn to anticipate his actions.” Ward gave Rafe a discontented look, “And he’s not so subtle, anyway.”

You took a look at Rafe, expecting to see him looking shameful, but there was no such suggestion on his face. He appeared completely at ease with what his father was saying.

“But I can only let him act a fool for so long before it becomes problematic. So, I took protective measures. That’s where you come in, Mrs. MacFarlane.”

“We’re not together.” You rushed out, uncaring of where Ward was going with his self-righteous speech.

“Sure you aren’t. Now—”

“No!” You exclaimed, rising from your seat, “I am not with your son. I cut it off a couple weeks ago. He knows that. But he insists on coming back here & harassing me… doing horrible things.”

Suddenly, you felt hot, like being center stage under an overwhelmingly bright light.

You wished you had the mental capability to take pride in the brief look of shock consuming Ward’s face as he stared at his son in disbelief. But it was short lived anyhow. Ward cleared his throat.

“And I will take care of that.” Ward said firmly, & shockingly, you believed him. “But I need to take care of you first. So, sit down. Now. We have business to discuss.”

You felt your brows quivering, much like the rest of your body. This was your home! You needed to stand your ground against these volatile, invasive men.

“How dare you come into my home & demand anything of me.” You spit through gritted teeth, “I want you & your son out of my home in the next sixty seconds or I will call the cops & have you both thrown in jail. I don’t give a fuck what happens to me or my marriage because of it. I’ll be damned if you think I’m going to let another Cameron come in here & do as he pleases.”

You kicked your chair out from behind you, prepared to go to the landline in the kitchen since Rafe still carried your phone, when a sudden vicelike grip wrapped around your wrist, yanking you back. Your feet tripped over each other, causing you to fall towards the table. Fortunately you caught yourself, but not before tossing a death stare at Rafe, who matched it.

“You can call the cops if you want, I won’t stop you.” Ward started, “But before you do, I want you to know that if you do, you’d only be ruining your husband’s life.”

Any fight you had had been nearly stamped out with those words. You parted your lips, but no words came out.

Ward gestured to your seat, “Sit down, Mrs. MacFarlane. You’re going to want to listen to what I have to say.”

Reluctantly, you lowered yourself, ripping your arm out of Rafe’s hand & rubbing the skin there. Ward glanced unimpressively between the two of you before continuing.

“You recently had a break-in.” Ward started. You didn’t bother confirming; it was well-known.

Ward then reached into the pocket of his blazer, pulling out a paper bag. Overturning the bag, a plethora of colored & various sized pills spilled out. After Ward emptied the bag, he tossed the bag to the side, “I believe these are your husband’s.”

Your eyes flew to his.

“Your husband, as good a man as he is, isn’t the brightest. These are from the pharmacy he keeps in his office.”

“…why?”

“Because I’ll send your husband to prison for illegal distribution of unreleased drugs before I ever let my son have his mugshot taken. Now, I’ll admit, I initially came here to ensure that you wouldn’t open your mouth about your affair with my son. But seeing now that the relationship isn’t entirely consensual, he faces greater risk.”

You couldn’t help that your jaw dropped, “You’d put a good, honest man in jail to protect your rapist son?”

Ward closed his eyes at the word ‘rapist’, his lips pressed firmly. He appeared to be struggling himself with the reality of the situation, but when his eyes opened & met yours, you could see that Rafe had to of gotten his insanity gene from someone.

“I will do anything to protect my son. I’m sure you’d understand that if you still had one.”

The shot to your heart forced hot, angry tears to your eyes.

“Dad.” Rafe warned.

“You—” Ward pointed toward Rafe, “shut your mouth. We’re in this shit because of you.”

A wave of nausea returned. But you pushed it down, staring heatedly & hatefully at the man across from you.

“You’re a monster.” You forced out.

Ward smiled knowingly, “A necessary one.”

Rafe placed a hand on your upper back, but you shoved yourself away from him, throwing him the same hateful look. You wished you had never moved to Kildare.

“So, if I get even an inkling, a gut feeling that you’re up to no good Mrs. MacFarlane, expect your husband in handcuffs within the next 24 hours. Do I make myself clear?”

You said nothing as rushed breaths flooded your lungs. This wasn’t happening. Your throat was scratchy & dry, your pits damp with sweat. Your head throbbed from the influx of adrenaline coursing through your body.

“That won’t be necessary.” It was Rafe. You couldn’t move to face him. You could barely make out his words as he spoke to his father. But you did feel his hand grip your thigh. “Because we’ll get married.”

“What?” You & Ward responded in unison, though you sounded more fearful than he of course.

“_____ & I will get married. She’ll divorce her husband,” Rafe caught your eyes then, giving you a pointed look, “to protect him, & she’ll marry me. Then there’s nothing she or anyone else can say or do.”

“You’re fucking crazy if you think I’d ever marry you.” You hissed, struggling to get out from under his firm hand but he kept you in place, his nails digging through the fabric to nick your skin.

“What other choice do you have?” Rafe countered, his head cocked as he challenged you to think of something better. But nothing was better. Absolutely nothing. You were completely ensnared in their fucked up web.

When you said nothing, unable to think of anything to argue with, Rafe nodded, “There you have it. A contract solves everything, dad, you taught me that.”

Ward eyed his son suspiciously but did not dismiss his proposal. Then Ward looked at you, “Well, Mrs. MacFarlane, for once my son thinks effectively & efficiently. So, do we have an agreement?”

You scoffed, bile rising in your throat. You shook your head, finding the whole situation unbelievable. But what could you do? Honestly, what could you do? You had to think about Moses, about protecting him. You had already betrayed him by breaking your vows. Would you let your stupid fucking mistakes cost him his well-being? Picturing him in handcuffs, his face on the news, his reputation ruined, his career destroyed, his wife…to blame for all of it. Tears bounced down your cheeks. No, no. You couldn’t let anything happen to him.

Not trusting yourself to hold in your sickness if you opened your mouth, you simply nodded once.

Ward smirked proudly, “Great. Well then.” Ward rose from his seat then extended his hand as if he was closing out a typical business deal.

You eyed his hand as if it was made of poison, but forced yourself to rise just enough to give him yours. His hand was warm & cold at the same time. Goosebumps raided your skin, making your spine tingle uncomfortably.

“You have until Monday to break the news to your husband. If you know what’s good for him, you won’t disappoint.”

With that, Ward & Rafe left you at the table. You vaguely listened as they talked to one another down by the front door, but you didn’t care to make anything out. Blood was rushing to your ears, you felt like vomiting, all you wanted to do was to crawl back into bed & go to sleep, hopefully never waking up.

But your nightmare returned as he climbed back up the stairs, a proud smile on his face as he sat back down next to you. Your muscles tensed as he brought you close to kiss you on your temple, his breath fanning your hair.

“Now we have nothing to worry about.”

Fuck, he was delusional. Tears of anger & frustration continued to spill down your cheeks, but you felt numb in the face as your stared at your lap.

“Once you tell Moses that you want a divorce, we’ll get married & you’ll be happier with me.” He sounded so elated. You felt like your life was ending.

“Why don’t you lay down on the couch, I’ll heat up some leftovers.”

Like a mindless zombie, you rose from you seat & dragged your feet to the couch. You didn’t bother kicking off your heels or slipping out of the skirt that hugged your waist too tightly. You just wanted to sink into the couch until you disappeared, never to be found again.

As Rafe clambered around in your kitchen, you thought back to your life before you met him. You were mixing your medication with alcohol, drinking day & night, spending all your time alone bitter & angry at the world. You were completely helpless, or so you thought.

Lying there on the couch though, trapped in your own home, having no will or way to protect yourself or your husband, you only then realized this is what helpless was, this is what rock bottom looked like.

And there was no way back up.

A pounding on your front door stirred you awake. Your house was dark as you looked bleary eyed around your living room. The kitchen was quiet & Rafe was nowhere in sight. You sat up, thinking it must’ve been a dream when the pounding came again, this time even louder. You shot forward, ready to make a dash for the door while Rafe was MIA, but just as you stood up he appeared at the mouth of the hallway.

He was peering curiously down at the door over the railing. Then he sighed, annoyed.

“What is it?” You asked, rounding the couch toward the stairs. He stopped you abruptly though.

“I’ll handle it.”

You hated how much control he had, how perfectly together he seemed, all the while you were losing your fucking marbles.

Rafe ambled down the stairs, unlocking the door then swung it open.

“Oh, my god. He wasn’t kidding.” It was Sarah’s voice.

You practically jumped down the stairs, relieved that someone who you felt to be reasonable & trustworthy had appeared.

When you stepped up next to Rafe though, her furious brown eyes landed on you.

“So, it’s true. You guys have been hooking up & now you’re getting married.”

You began to shake your head, desperate for her to know the truth, but Rafe gently pushed you backwards out of sight, though his hand remained firm on your shoulder, a warning grip.

“What’s your problem, Sarah? You like her, dad likes her, I like her. I thought you’d be happy.”

“Bullshit.” You heard her seethe, “_____ hates your fucking guts, what the hell is going on?!”

“Fine.” Rafe stepped back, leaving space between him & the door, “If you don’t believe me, she’ll tell you herself.”

Then, while Sarah couldn’t see you, Rafe stared at you. Hard. The same look he had when he cornered you in the bathroom at his house.

It’d be so easy to tell Sarah the truth. Just step out, tell her what exactly was going on, how Ward threatened Moses, everything. If she knew, then you had someone who would be on your side. But then you remembered her & Rafe shared the same dad. Ward would shut her up too, you were sure of it. The chances were too low for a risk so great.

Swallowing down a dry lump, you readied yourself to lie to what might be your last hope.

When you stepped into view, Sarah had her lips pursed. You could tell that she was concerned. She didn’t know what to think. And it made you want to vomit yourself to death before feeding her lies. But you had to. For Moses.

“It’s true, Sarah.” Your voice cracked, so you cleared your throat, “We’re getting married.”

She guffawed, eyes flashing between you & your offender, “But you hate him…”

“…I don’t. I… only said that to keep up appearances, make it easier for us to see one another.” Tears threatened to fall but you blinked them away.

“Wow.” Sarah laughed in disbelief, “I really thought you were different.”

I am. You wanted to scream it out, reach for her & beg her to get you help. But you said nothing as she shook her head.

“Well, don’t expect to see me at the wedding.” With that, she spun on her heel, her hair whipping behind her as she stomped down your outdoor stairs.

Your heart shattered as she disappeared from sight, Rafe closing the door on your one chance at escape. He locked the doors before throwing an arm over your shoulder, “She’ll come around. Once she sees how amazing we are together, she’ll understand.”

But you knew she wouldn’t. And you hoped she wouldn’t. You hoped she escaped the Cameron’s as much as you both wanted to. At least one of you needed to survive this family.

Rafe woke you up early Friday morning. He had your coffee, medication, & a plate of breakfast ready for you. It was a little past six in the morning. Moses would be home in a couple hours. You wished you could be excited about it.

“Don’t forget the plan.” Rafe said as he took your plate away. You knew you’d be throwing up those eggs & toast in the next twenty minutes. You hadn’t stopped puking since Rafe appeared some days ago. Your body couldn’t handle the stress without alcohol. But you couldn’t go back to it now. You needed to stay sober.

Rafe then led you back to your bathroom. You stripped out of your pajamas’ as he turned the shower on. You hated him. You fucking hated him. Never ever in your life had you felt so helpless. He was always hovering, always doing things for you, coddling you like a goddam baby. You knew it was because he didn’t trust you, & he was right not to, but you just needed five minutes alone, five minutes to fucking breathe.

As you stepped into the shower, you were horrified to see him begin to undress as well. He hadn’t touched you since the night before last. For that you were thankful. But it seemed his lust for you was short-lived, his erection apparent as he stepped in behind you.

Words died on your tongue as he pressed you into the porcelain wall, his lips caressing your neck & shoulder. The water was warm, exceedingly so, but Rafe’s touch left chills.

He turned your face towards him, his mouth catching yours. You struggled to not fight back.

Rafe’s hands grazed your back as he pressed his front to yours. You loathed how your body responded to him naturally. That a slickness appeared between your thighs. How you bit your lip to keep the moans from slipping out. It sickened you.

“Open up.” Rafe breathed hotly against your mouth. You parted your lips in the slightest. His tongue massaged yours as one of his hands dipped below, his fingers finding your sensitive nub.

A gasp escaped you at the sudden touch. Rafe smiled into the kiss, pulling back to watch your face as it contorted itself with pleasure.

He started with a single first, just teasing your entrance, collecting the wetness there all the while the heel of his hand kept a circulating pressure against your clit.

“Your body needs me.” Rafe gently grasped the hair at the nape of your neck, forcing your head back so he could stare down at you, “As much as I need you.”

Then a second finger entered you, though this time deeper. You could feel your walls clenching around him, almost painfully. You battled with your bodily response, not wanting to submit to your wonton needs.

Rafe began to pump his fingers, his lips grazing your jawline as you desperately grasped for anything to hold onto as he fucked you with his hand.

“Please.” You choked out, unsure if you were begging him to stop or to keep going.

He then pulled his fingers out, much to your relief, but it was short-lived as he only switched to focusing entirely on your clit. A squealed yelp left your lips, forcing your body to jump as he used the pads of his four fingers to rub you vigorously. Your orgasm was building fast, the impeding crash fast coming. You opened your mouth but only a silent wail came out as you felt your body crash.

Cum dripped from between your thighs. You could barely hold yourself help. Rafe pressed his face into the side of your neck, laughing proudly to himself, “That’s my girl. You’re my girl, aren’t you?”

You said nothing, leaning on him entirely as you gained your footing. But Rafe was impatient. He pushed your head back against the wall, looking you deeply in the eyes, his own hooded with unbridled carnal want.

“Tell me. Say it.”

You licked your lips, still catching your breath. Nodding, you couldn’t look him in the eyes as you said it, “I’m your girl, Rafe.”

A wicked smile appeared on his regretfully handsome face.

Not giving you a chance to recover from your first orgasm, Rafe suddenly spun you around, pressing your front to the glass door. You didn’t have a chance to comprehend what was happening before he slid into you with one thrust.

Rafe groaned loudly, his hands harshly gripping your upper arms as he used you to balance himself.

“This pussy is mine.” He growled behind you. You grunted, your walls clinging to his girth as he sunk deeper & deeper.

“Say it.” The digging of his nails into your skin made you wince.

“My pussy is yours.” You cried out, “Only yours.”

“Yes, it is.” He breathed out as he began to thrust.

Your tits were crushed uncomfortably against the glass, but the slickness of the water helped to add pleasure to the discomfort. Your nipples hard & begging for attention as the friction of the movement made you wetter by the second.

As if he could read your thoughts, Rafe brought his arm to your front, forcing your back to arch as he brought your head to his shoulder. His hands grabbed a handful of each tit, molding them to his grasp. His fingers tweaked & rubbing at your nipples. One of your hands gripped his thigh, hanging onto him as his thick cock & expert fingers crafted yet another orgasm from you.

“Ah, fuck!” You bit your lip, grinding your ass into Rafe’s hips, bouncing yourself off his dick. God, you couldn’t believe how he made you come undone over & over again, even when you didn’t want to.

“I can’t wait to fuck you every day. In our home.” His words were faded, sounding far away as you came down, but they still affected you. As quickly as your orgasm came, the pleasure from it evaporated just as fast.

Rafe continued fucking you, releasing you to prop yourself up onto the glass as he chased his own release. You pressed your forehead into the glass, staring into the foggy nothingness of ahead of you.

You were thankful for the water to disguise your tears.

Moses knew something was wrong the second he walked through the door. You didn’t see the point in hiding it, faking any sort of feeling from him.

He found you in one of the guest bedrooms. You had the sheets from your actual bed in the washer, not wanting to return to the bed Rafe fucked you on multiple times without them being cleaned.

You were curled in on yourself, unaware that he was even home as you lied there, numb to everything.

“_____?” Moses sat beside you on the bed, immediately bringing you into his arms, “What the hell is going on?”

But you said nothing, you couldn’t trust yourself to say anything. Not yet anyways. Rafe only left less than an hour ago. After he finished filling you with his cum, he let you shower properly. But no matter how deep you scrubbed your skin you couldn’t wash him off of you.

“Darling, talk to me.” Moses’ voice used to soothe you, used to bring you great peace, but now, it felt like a distant lullaby, one that you knew would stop singing to you.

Other than your catatonic state though, Moses could find nothing wrong. He eventually left you but not for long. He returned with one of your favorite fuzzy blankets, a mug of tea, & a lavender scented candle. As you felt him moving around the room, you begged yourself to cry, to wake up, to respond to him, talk to him.

Tell him, tell him, tell him. You repeated to yourself over & over again. But you couldn’t. One voice rang louder, & it belonged to Ward Cameron.

You slept in the guest bedroom all night, relieved that sleep eventually came for you. When you did wake up, your muscles & joints ached as you finally moved, stretching your limbs. It was then that you saw Moses on the floor. His back was resting against the bed & he was sleeping soundlessly. A book was in his hand & his reading glasses were barely hanging onto his face.

He didn’t deserve to be ruined because of your actions. Had you known that everything you had done in your life would lead to him getting either his heartbroken or his life ruined, you never would’ve gone on that date with him.

But then you also would’ve never had Jesse.

Jesse’s face flashed through your mind then. You covered your mouth as rampant cries suddenly threatened to break loose. You pulled your knees to your chest, stifling your cries as you teared up.

Everything was your fault, everything bad in your life was your fault. Even Jesse…

“_____.” Moses was beside you all of a sudden, wrapping his arms around you, “You’re scaring me, what is going on?”

You raised your head, wanting to stare at the only man in your life who truly loved you. But as you looked at him you saw Jesse’s eyes.

In a flash, you thrusted yourself out of Moses’ arms, falling to the floor. Moses was shocked, watching as your rushed to your feet, backing away from him.

“Don’t.” You held up your hand, staring hard at him through your tears.

“_____---”

“No, Moses. I can’t. I can’t do this anymore.”

“What are you… what are you talking about?” He made to stand but you shook your head, backing further away. Moses stopped moving but remained sitting at the edge of the bed, his eyes full of fear as he stared at you.

“We need to stop avoiding talking about what happened. We both need to stop giving me a break.”

Moses hung his head, immediately knowing what you were referring to.

“We have to say it for what it is, Moses. Because it’s killing me, it’s been killing me.” You could feel yourself on the edge of a panic attack.

Moses raised his head, his eyes red & tired, “Should we call someone?”

“No!” You shouted, “No, no. No one else. Me & you. Like it always should’ve been.”

“_____, I think you should sit down.”

“Quit fucking coddling me, Moses!” You yelled, feeling the last shred of your self-worth snapping. “Jesse is dead! Because of me…”

Moses’ eyes began to swell with tears, but he pressed his lips together as he looked at you.

“Because of me, Moses.”

“That’s not true. You know that. It was an accident.”

“No.” You wailed, recalling the tragic day, “If I hadn’t fallen asleep…”

“It wasn’t your fault. And if it was your fault then it was my fault, too.”

“Moses, don’t. You were at work.”

“Exactly!” He stood to his full height, throwing his arms out, “I should’ve been home with you both. You were so tired. Jesse was a handful, he was so full of energy, always on the go. Neither one of us could keep up with him on our own. I should’ve been there. You fell asleep because you were so busy keeping up with him, _____. Jesse loved you. He’d pick you again.”

Moses’ words forced you to fall to your knees, sobbing, crying for Jesse, wishing you could hold him in your arms once more.

“Our son is dead.” You gasped on your choked breaths. “I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry, Moses.”

You needed him to know before you broke his heart. You needed him to know that you were sorry for everything.

Moses joined you on the floor, holding you as you cried into his chest. You could feel his own tears falling onto your scalp.

“I’m sorry, too.” He whispered.

He held you for some time, letting you cry, letting himself cry. You two remained there for what felt like ages, finally allowing yourselves to grieve, to feel the pain of Jesse’s death. A huge weight had been lifted from your shoulders, though your heart remained forever heavy.

After a while, you had stopped crying, your cheeks crusted with dry tears. Your lips were chapped & you licked them lazily. Moses was gently rubbing your back.

You wanted nothing more than to stay there with him forever, with the love of your life, your selfless husband, the most beautiful father to your child. You wanted to stay there & never leave.

But you couldn’t drag him down with you, not anymore.

“Moses.” Your voice was hoarse from the wailing.

Moses leaned back, still holding you softly as he pulled back enough to face you.

“Yes, my love?” Your heart shattered. My love, my love, my love. You’d never hear those words again. But you couldn’t cling to them, you needed to rip off the Band-Aid.

You couldn’t look Moses in the eyes as you said the words, lowering your own.

This would be the cruelest thing you’d ever do. The end of everything good in your life. This was the end.

“I want a divorce.”

fuuuuuck me. i can't believe this series is one chapter & epilogue away from being finished. i think thus far, this is my absolute proudest work on my blog. i really really hope you guys have enjoyed this journey with me as much as i had writing it.

as always, please share your thoughts with me by commenting, reblogging with reviews, or talking to me in the ask box (which is looking a little lonely>.<)

regardless, thank you for all the love & support. it means everything.

thank you for reading!

oona<3

Requests are currently CLOSED.

Read this post on why doing more than liking a tumblr writers work is essential to our content creation.

[my love language is words of affirmation, it would make my day if you could comment your thoughts, reblog with tags, or drop an ask that shows your support. thank you for reading tumblr writers, we appreciate you]

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#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #dark!rafe cameron #rafe cameron fanfiction #dark!fic #dark!fanfiction #outer banks fanfiction #non con fic #dark!outer banks #wtbb part nine

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drdtfuitgumies · 3 months ago

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season 3 summary: july 2024

this summary is mainly for my personal documentation (i like documenting stuff), but i thought i'd post this in the blog too just in case anyone else was interested!

STATISTICS

as you can perhaps tell by the "header", ace is first place for this month with seven appearances! ...though considering the situations he was involved in (most notably an undignified jumpscare, being put in air jail, and being put in a repurposed jail by the name of Arei's Haul), it may be more of a curse. arei, j, and whit all tie for second place with six appearances, which is a very normal occurrence at this point.

PERSONAL FAVORITES (in chronological order)

1) Teruko falls down the stairs (ft. her three* best** friends***) (CHAPTER 2 SPOILERS)

i really like eden and charles' sideeyes here. and drawing teruko falling down the stairs was always one of my main goals with this blog, so i'm glad i could accomplish that!

2) Class is NOT going well (CHAPTER 1 SPOILERS)

the people really liked this one too, it seems! i finished in time for their birthday, too... i'm bound by law to apologize because they happen to be a friend's favorite character. orz

3) Whit shows Xander how to wear a blazer

i've drawn this sprite twice now. he just looks endearing in what i like to call The Stupid Idiot Dog way. I promise I mean this with as much affection (and cuteness aggression) possible. maybe i'll draw more sprites in the future... especially the ones that barely get used

4) Do you see this shit, Min?

another meme redraw! not much thought here. i just want them to be friends, even if it starts from a shared exasperation with practically the rest of the class.

THE POWER OF HINDSIGHT

sometimes i think of adding punchlines in the situations, or fix errors after i've put them in the queue, but forget to actually. do that

veronika jumpscaring ace was supposed to have a dark background but i thought veronika jumpscaring him with a flashlight in broad daylight was way funnier. the end result would still be the same anyhow

as mentioned in both "class is NOT going well" and "min and mai eat taiyaki", the latter was supposed to be min's birthday post. but i saw the meme around a week before her birthday and i couldn't NOT draw it. and i actually finished it in time!!

levi's dialogue in this situation was supposed to allude to him putting ace in air jail, but i didn't know how to make j's dialogue MASSIVE while also leaving just enough words for the viewer to ponder about what exactly levi was doing beforehand

also about the above situation; j's second piece of dialogue was supposed to be lowercase. i try to modify everyone's dialogue according to how they'd probably type (from the top of my head arei, eden, and whit speak in lowercase and sprinkling in emoticons/kaomojis; ace and j also speak in lowercase but they often switch into Titlecase and UPPERCASE for emphasis). that time i forgot to proofread the capitalization though. i guess this is incredibly minor and doesn't even matter that much

arei was supposed to steal hu's butterfly pin off-screen and the situation would be hu recalling the incident to someone like. levi, eden, or david idk. and going "I am unfortunately disappointed but not surprised" with a serene expression. i thought the punchline of hu just giving her pin and arei considering it a defeat was funnier, so i ended up going with that

I really, really wanted to find proper motivational words that Arturo would say,,,,,, ach.....

OTHER REMARKS

i tried to mimic arei's canon handwriting for that header image! also that is indeed the jail cardboard box being repurposed as arei's inventory of stolen items. i guess ace lives there for now

i want to do vocaloid mv redraws... i think i've mentioned it here once before, but i'd like to try. although i probably can't do more "serious" songs

that one comment asking if arei brought ace in her suitcase (since she's wearing some stolen accessories) still makes me laugh because how does one even begin to approach that conclusion. you can freely interpret arei's bigger suitcase as a sign that a whole ass Ace Markey is stuck inside there, i suppose! thank you for the mental image!

unfortunately, my schedule this year is taxing enough that i literally can't draw fuit gumies everyday anymore (unless if it was just one single character standing). i'll still post something for everyone's birthdays, and i plan to draw something to start off september at least, but i'll wait until that post for a more concrete schedule

thank you for your support!

as promised, whether you've seen it or not; here is the miro canvas for the first three months/seasons! i've since moved into another one since it started lagging enough to annoy me.

#seasonal summary

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novacorpsrecruit · 5 months ago

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The Missing Poster

This image is making rounds on Twitter and having people arguing Eddie’s age again so I want to throw my head canon out

This is ignoring flight of Icarus because I haven’t read it.

T | wc 1,903 | tw: death/murder, abuse

Wayne had prayed he’d never have to make another missing poster again.

In 1984, Eddie went off on a bender. It was a series of unfortunate phone calls that fell like dominoes.

First, the school.

His grades were low. He’s failed too many classes. He wasn’t going to graduate.

Then, Eddie’s dad, Ricky.

He was in the Marion County jail. Waiting to be processed. He had two charges: manslaughter and second-degree murder. He had no bond. He was to be kept at Marion County until his court proceedings take place.

Then, the coroner’s office.

Ricky failed to mention to Wayne who was dead. Who he killed. If Wayne knew Ricky had strangled Elizabeth, he would’ve told Eddie not to answer anymore phone calls.

But the third call came, Eddie already on his breaking point. He picked it up, and was met with the terrible news, given to him by someone so mechanical with their words. As if they were telling him that there was a coupon for milk in the grocery’s ads.

His mom was dead.

The coroner’s office needed to know which funeral home to send the body to. Not her body. The body.

Eddie dropped the phone, taking off outside. Wayne was quick on his heels for someone who complained about how his knee ached.

“Eddie! Eddie!” Wayne called, following after him. “Eddie, boy! C’mon home.” Wayne reached out, gently touching Eddie’s arm to lead him back to the house. Eddie snatched his arm away, as if Wayne’s touch was hot like fire, turning around tears streaming down his face.

“She was supposed to be okay!” Eddie shouted. “She wasn’t supposed to be around him! She was supposed to get clean! She promised! She promised!”

“Eds —“ Wayne started, a soft sigh and he reached back out. Eddie took a step back, shaking his head.

“No — no, I —“ he shook his head again, running his fingers through his hair. “Fuck this. I gotta — I gotta go.”

“Go where?” Wayne asked, taking a step towards Eddie like a baby deer. Eddie shook his head, taking two steps back.

“I gotta get out of here —“

Gravel crunching under tires pulled both their attentions back to the trailer house. Wayne recognized the Chevy Blazer immediately. Chief Hopper has made stops to the Munson home a few times since Eddie moved in with Wayne in ‘79. Eddie always seemed to find trouble. Or trouble always seems to find the Munson’s.

“Eds, we should —“ Wayne turned to look back at Eddie, already taken off into the woods. Wayne sighed and approached Chief Hopper.

“Wayne,” Hopper said, taking off his hat and holding it to his chest. He nodded at where Eddie once stood. “I’m guessing Marion County called.”

“My boy answered the phone,” Wayne supplied. “So I’m not sure what was said, but the way he was talking ‘bout his momma, I can assume the earlier call from his daddy was related.”

Hopper nodded, glancing towards the forest where Eddie disappeared. “You know where he took off to?”

“Nope,” Wayne said. “He’s got friends in town, and a few spots near the lake ‘nd the quarry.”

“He take off like this before?”

Wayne let out a half laugh. “A few times. Usually back in the middle of the night or by mornin’. Never gone for a full day.”

Hopper let out a hum. “He ain’t back by sunset tomorrow, give me a call.”

Wayne gave a nod, looking out towards the forest. “He’ll be back by mornin’.”

Hopper nodded. “Sorry about Elizabeth. She was a kind soul.”

“Just kept findin’ that trouble named Ricky,” Wayne sighed. “Thanks, Jim.”

Hopper started back towards his car, stopping in his place. “Hey, uh, I wouldn’t … be surprised if they called your boy to testify.”

Wayne wrinkled his brow. “What do you mean? He was here.”

“Character witness,” Hopper supplied. “He — I remember those bruises and cuts he had when we dropped him off on your porch a few years back. The prosecutor might call ‘im up to recount Ricky’s abuse.”

Wayne let out a deep sigh. He remembered that night all too well. Eddie had always been tall for his age, even at 13. But scrawny teen looked small with his arms crossed over his chest, more purple bruising on his body than his pale skin, standing behind Jim Hopper. It didn’t take much for Wayne to connect the dots, and it didn’t take much convincing when he called Ricky a week later to let Eddie stay with him in Hawkins permanently. He watched that buzz cut kid grow into his larger than life personality, leaving his hard edges back in Indianapolis with his father. But now, Ricky came crashing back into Eddie’s life, knocking the walls of security down.

“Thanks Jim,” Wayne said. “We’ll keep that in mind.”

Hopper gave one more nod before climbing into the Blazer and driving off. Wayne sighed, walking back to the house and sitting on the couch outside. He pulled out his cigarette pack from his shirt pocket and lit a cigarette between his lips.

Wayne wasn’t sure how long he waited outside for Eddie. Longer than he should’ve. He finally moved inside when the sun started to blush the sky. He crashed on the couch, hardly sleeping as he waited for the sound of the trailer creaking with Eddie’s heavy footsteps.

But it never came.

The day came and went, and Eddie was no where to be found.

Wayne tried his friends, calling down the list of the guys who played Eddie’s dragons game with him. No one had seen him since yesterday. He tried the Library and the Hideout. No luck. Wayne went through Eddie’s little black book of phone numbers. Hell, he even tried a few places in Indy. The more numbers he called, the more he grew wary.

What felt like hours later, he called Hopper.

He told him to come down to the station, bring a recent photo. So Wayne grabbed the one off the fridge — the one he took at the beginning of the school year. It was way too hot for Eddie to be wearing his long sleeve under the t-shirt, but arguing with Eddie on what to wear was like arguing with a wall. The sun was in Eddie’s eyes. Eddie barely wanted to take the photo in the first place. Wayne made him. Said they would send the photo to his momma. To remember senior year.

Fucking hell.

When he got to the station, he was directed to one of the administrative ladies. She took the photo and took information about Eddie. His height. His weight. His age.

Shit.

He was turning 18 next week.

The woman finished making the flyer, using the Xerox in the back to add Eddie’s photo to it. She handed him a stack of copies and the photo back.

“What now?” Wayne asked.

“We wait,” she said. “He’s officially a missing person. Officers know to keep a look out. We’ll let other stations know as well.”

Wayne nodded, taking a step back. Her words echoed in his head. We wait.

He took the flyers and hung them around town. Taking them to every business, every office, posting them on telephone poles. A few passbyers took it out of politeness, barely looking at Eddie’s photo as they walked by. At least, the woman at Melvard’s was kind, looking at him with sympathy and promising him he would turn up. Her own boy turned up last year, even after he was pronounced dead. Maybe she had enough hope to bring Eddie back safe as well.

But days past and nobody heard from Eddie. Wayne grew more and more worried, feeling like his all efforts of searching were going to waste. Wayne found it harder and harder to sleep at night, worried about his boy.

It wasn’t until he got that faithful call from Hopper.

“They found him.”

Wayne can’t recall the details or where they found him or what drugs was in his system. All Wayne could remember was Eddie lying in that hospital bed, paler than the sheets looking at Wayne like Wayne was Ricky.

Wayne sat in the chair next to Eddie, slowly and gently placing his hand on top of Eddie’s, running his thumb against his skin. “What a way to spend your birthday, huh?”

Eddie let out a wet laugh, relaxing against Wayne’s touch. “Sorry, Wayne, didn’t mean t’scare ya.”

“Don’t do it again,” Wayne said, leaning up to press a kiss against Eddie’s hair. “Please.”

Wayne doesn’t blame Eddie for this time.

It’s that Munson trouble that found him. He knew Eddie didn’t kill that girl. It wasn’t his nature. He’s not like Ricky.

Eddie isn’t like his father.

It’s been almost a week since he heard from Eddie. A few days since the teens were around the trailer park asking about him. Nobody has heard from Eddie. He knows the police are looking for him, placing him at that girl’s murder.

But it wasn’t Eddie.

Wayne had just hung up that missing poster this morning at the gym, where the City had called for a shelter. He went to the library and Xeroxed a couple of copies of the missing poster he kept folded up in his wallet. There wasn’t enough resources or time to make another. A quick change to the missing date, thanks to the type writer at the front desk. Wayne folded up the original, placing it back in his wallet. It served as a reminder of to keep his boy close. To make sure he felt loved.

And someone took a damn marker to it, vandalizing his boy to hell. Wayne pulled down the destroyed flyer, trashing it. He replaced it with the new one, feeling his heart ache as he looked at young Eddie, beginning of his first senior year.

Now, he didn’t know where he was.

“Mr. Munson?”

Wayne turned around to see a boy with curly hair, the same boy who stopped by the trailer park with the other teens, now sporting crutches. Another boy, about Eddie’s age stood behind him, with a red ring around his neck. He stood strong, almost like a soldier, holding something gently in his hand, as if he was afraid he would crush it.

The younger boy leaned forward, the older boy nearly shot out his free hand, grabbing the other to stabilize him. The younger boy lowered his voice. “We know where Eddie is.”

The older boy extended his bandaged hand, opening it to reveal Eddie’s guitar pick necklace.

And that’s all it took for Wayne to follow them to the old Hawkins lab. Wayne nearly jumped out of his truck as he followed the boys into the lab, down the hall and into a makeshift hospital room.

There laid Eddie, like he did not even two years before. His hair matted and dirty, his face and arms bandaged like he went through hell and back. He looked up at Wayne, his eyes watered. “Wayne —“

Wayne leaned down and buried a kiss into Eddie’s hair. “You’re safe, son,” Wayne whispered. “You’re safe.”

“I didn’t — I didn’t mean t’scare ya,” Eddie said with a lopsided smile. Wayne let out a soft laugh, relieved his boy was alive.

“Don’t do it again,” Wayne whispered into his hair. “I mean it this time.”

#stranger things #eddie munson #wayne munson #stranger things fic #stranger things ficlet #//myfic #al Munson who??? that’s Ricky Munson

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tortiefrancis · 4 hours ago

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I'd like to tell a story today about a man who you may not know about. His name was Vladimir Herzog, and he was born in 1937, in Yugoslavia.

ID: Black and white photo of Vladimir Herzog, a man with light tone skin and short, dark, curly hair that's balding, wearing a shirt and a dark blazer. He looks at the camera. /End ID

Him and his family were Jewish, so they fled to Italy and later to Brazil during the Second World War. It's here where he was raised.

He studied philosophy in São Paulo and later on became a journalist, working for many important newspapers, both national and international. In the 70s, he became a professor in the same university he graduated from, and became involved with theatre.

It was also here where he became involved with politics, and the Brazilian Communist Party.

ID: Black and white photo of Vladimir Herzog talking to someone off camera and gesturing. He has shorter hair and a beard, and wears a short sleeved shirt and a sweater vest over it. /End ID

From 1964 to 1985, Brazil was suffering from a military dictatorship. People were not allowed to speak their mind, there was heavy censorship specially in the news and in the arts, and the military was extremely violent. If you were caught deviating from societal norms or expressing your opinions against the regime, you were either exiled, tortured or killed. And most people who were killed were never found.

Vladimir was against the regime and joined the communist party to help the resistance against the dictatorship. He was a militant and an activist, and the government at the time was aware of this.

So in 1975, he was informed that the military wanted him imprisoned.

ID: Black and white photo of Vladimir Herzog on a desk with a large typewriter, smiling at the camera. /End ID

At the time, he worked as the director of journalism for TV Cultura, an important position.

The military asked Vladimir to go a station for questioning, and on the next day, he did. He was jailed alongside two other journalists, and was interrogated about his participation in the resistance.

Vladimir denied being part of the Brazilian Communist Party.

The military brought in an electric shock machine, and turned on the radio as loud as possible to muffle the sounds. After this, Vladimir Herzog was never seen alive again.

The military stated in a document that he committed suicide by hanging with a fabric belt that was part of his outfit. In the photos they released, not only was he seen with clear marks of being tortured, but his feet were touching the ground. The military was used to lying that their victims had committed suicide, but it seemed no one was buying it.

Because he was Jewish, he would need to be buried separately, if he had killed himself. However, as his body was examined, it was clear he was tortured. So he wasn't buried in the area destined to victims of suicide, which contradicted what the military had said about his death, very openly and clearly.

It was only in 2012 that it was made official in documents that he was a victim of torture, and was murdered by the military that day.

ID: Black and white photo of Vladimir Herzog on the beach, smiling at the camera while sitting on the sand and holding his knees. He has shorter hair, no beard and a unibrow. He wears a t-shirt and striped shorts. /End ID

Vladimir Herzog was married to Clarice and had two sons, Ivo and André. No attempt at justice was ever enough to fill the hole in his family's heart. As his wife Clarice stated "he would have contributed more to society if he was alive".

Vladimir received many homages after his death. Most importantly, there is a journalism award named after him, for journalists who speak up in favor of human rights and democracies. He also has a statue in São Paulo, showing him with open arms, looking up to the sky.

I'm showing many photos of him in this post, but if you're brazilian, you'll know the image we are most familiar with is of his death. I chose not to show it here, but you can find it yourself by just searching his name. That's your choice to make.

I like history. I specially like the history of this period. And it's sad to me most foreigners don't know about it, and many more don't know about Herzog. I wanted to have written this sooner, maybe on the anniversary of the coup or of his death, but better later than never. I highly encourage anyone who liked this to do research and learn more- I'm even open to questions myself, I love this topic a lot, and I want an excuse to use this blog to talk about history more. Maybe I'll write more of these, of make something more professional, who knows.

#sam.message #sam.txt #brazil #pindorama #brblr #latam #latin america #abya yala #vladimir herzog #military dictatorship #torture #death #murder #history

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crime-wives · 9 months ago

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ouat 1x01 thoughts

god regina, you dramatic bitch. “I shall destroy your happiness if it is the last thing I do” ok darling, you can destroy me if you’d like

henry is so small, his tiny cheeks awww

not to be gay but… emma swan in the pink dress. fuck. i forgot how attracted to her i was. and the HAIR, the fucking princess curls. jesus christ her ARMS.

“bail bonds-person” i love her

yesss bitch, strut across the street like you own it. absolute icon behavior, slamming that asshole’s face into the steering wheel.

babe you’re so sad and pathetic with your vanilla cupcake. i bet she wished for family.

not her apartment door saying ‘cast a spell’

“My name’s Henry, and i’m your son” agevgsvegw STOP

her having a panic attack in the bathroom, so real.

once again, her ARMS, i want her so bad

henry’s cute little freckles, i can’t do this.

idgaf abt snow and charming “She poisoned an apple because she thought I was prettier than her” shut up bitch, you know that’s not why

“Oh kid, you’ve got problems” emma swan, insulting children since 1983

ok but the fact that they chose the name ‘emma’ in a fairytale world, lmao

evil queen theme song playing as they enter storybrooke

emma swan wearing the most dyke outfit possible. getting ready to impress milfs

not that there’s any significance, but emma’s license plate is: 836•M4X

snow and charming are so annoying istg

ewww the blue fairy, i hate that bitch (derogatory)

regina running towards henry and wrapping him up in a hug. her eyes are wet. good lord, her first reaction is concern and worry, not anger.

“I found my real mom” my HEART. her face after he said that, so stricken and hurt, baby…

emma’s little flustered, ‘hi’ when talking to a gorgeous milf. ok babe, we get it, you’re gay.

graham leaving bc of emma and regina’s immediate sexual tension. and regina’s eyes roving over emma.

first ‘Miss Swan’ of the show at exactly 21:00 minutes.

emma swan is so desperate to impress regina. it’d be funny if it wasn’t so pathetic (affectionate)

“Sneaky bastard” once again, emma swan insulting children since 1983

crashing into the storybrooke sign like the absolute icon she is

the cgi 💀💀

yay!! curse time :)

emma waking up in a jail cell. she just does not give a fuck about this shit.

her lips parting when she she’s regina, ok babe, she’s hot we get it

LIP SCAR

god mary-margaret pisses me off

go regina, knock over mary-margaret’s shit, absolute queen

“She’s kinda a hardass” yes but that turns you on, doesn’t it?

gina’s so hot when she’s evil

putting a newborn through the wardrobe to save themselves, a+ parenting

henry mills, once again, the most mature one in a situation “You don’t have to be hostile. You like me, I can tell. You’re just pushing me away because I make you feel guilty.”

“I wanted you to have your best chance. But it’s not with me. C’mon, let’s go.” go emma! be the mature adult i know you can be

petition to get emma swan a therapist so she can deal with all her issues (trust me, she’s got a lot of them)

“Look, your mom is trying her best. I know it’s hard, and I know sometimes you think she doesn’t love you, but at least she wants you.” emma swan, standing up for regina mills since the moment they met

mmm regina’s voice is so hot.

her unhinged laughter, i love her so much

“Where are we going?” “Somewhere horrible, absolutely horrible” takes them to maine

emma swan is so fucking desperate for regina’s approval. she wished to not be alone on her birthday, baby…

second ‘Miss Swan’ of the show at 38:43 (i will be keeping count of all of them :D)

regina fidgeting with her blazer pockets, she’s so anxious

first “He’s my son” at 39:01 minutes

“I will destroy you if it is the last thing I do” babe, it’s kinda gay to have a nemesis, just saying

third ‘Miss Swan’ of the show at 39:32

baby… gina is coming apart at the seems

god, not to be gay, but regina’s HANDS at 40:27 agevvegse

emma’s only staying because of regina’s provocations. she wouldn’t have stayed for henry.

gold is so icky.

she’s staying a *only* a week, sure babe, sure.

also side note, i forgot how good the coloring was in ouat. like its very faded, maybe indicative of storybrooke being stuck in the past???

#i will do this for as many eps as i feel like #is anyone going to read this. absolutely not #but i’m having fun #ouat #swan queen #regina mills #ouat rambles #anya rambles #once upon a time #i sound insane i’m (not) sorry

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grapenehifics · 9 months ago

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Prisoner 224

I really loved writing Out of Sync for @fulcrum843's @topwan-obikin fest prompt, but fully intended it to be a one-shot until @somethingsteff started feeding me ideas and, well, I'm limited on free time right now so this is still only a ficlet but I couldn't help myself.

If you don't know the fic, the Council finds out about Obi-Wan and Anakin's relationship and they quit the Order. Anakin punches Palpatine when he insults Obi-Wan and gets sent to jail, and Obi-Wan hurries to hit the Chancellor as well so they can stay together. This also fulfills @ficwip's Hey Sweetheart challenge!

Text under the cut:

“Where are we going?” Anakin demanded. His hands were bound at the wrists in front of him, which didn’t make him look very threatening, but he gave his best glare to the backs of the heads of the troopers escorting him down the hall anyway.

Neither the troopers ahead of him nor the two at his back answered him. Their little group just kept marching along.

“I demand to know where you’re taking me,” Anakin tried, not pausing in his forward march but flexing his fingertips in preparation. He didn’t want to use the Force against them – besides the fact that they were probably just acting on orders from someone higher up the prison management chain of command, he was also pretty sure even something mild like knocking four guards out for a few hours would get his sentence extended and that was the opposite of what he wanted considering Obi-Wan was already slated to get out weeks before he did – but he also was not planning on taking a move to another cell block without putting up some sort of a fight.

He and Obi-Wan were kept apart for most of the day – Anakin in his cell and Obi-Wan in his – but because they were part of the same cell block, they were allowed to take both their exercise hour and their meal break together, Anakin holding Obi-Wan’s hand clasped in his as they jogged around the exercise track in their prison-issued tracksuits and rubbing elbows as they sat side-by-side with their dinner trays (and this only because they’d been told off for trying to sit on each other’s laps instead). But it was still a far sight better than not getting to see him at all, and Anakin hadn’t even done anything wrong (lately) and so really didn’t deserve to be punished like this.

“I want to go back to my cell,” he said.

“One of my batchmates is serving under Commander Cody in the 212th,” the trooper behind Anakin on his right said through his helmet vocoder. “CT-3812.”

“Sure. Punch, right?” Anakin said easily. “Yeah, I know him. But what has that got to do with anything?”

“That’s him,” the trooper agreed. None of the prison guards had ever told Anakin their names, just their badge numbers, although not for lack of asking. This one was one of the supervisors. Some of the younger guys were so green they had five-digit designations. “He’s met General Kenobi a few times.”

“Cool. So have I,” Anakin nearly growled. “That’s who I’m trying to get back to. So if you could just put me back in my cell, that’d be great. Or at least tell me what I’ve done.”

“Punch tells me he’s a real stand-up guy,” the trooper continued, as if Anakin hadn’t spoken. “Always makes sure his men have enough to eat. Doesn’t take unnecessary risks. That sort of thing.”

They rounded a corner. Anakin was starting to get desperate. “Just tell me where we’re going,” he practically begged. “I can call in a couple of favors and get myself reassigned back to Obi-Wan’s floor”-

“Punch also said,” the trooper on Anakin’s right said, so loudly he was almost shouting in Anakin’s ear, “that one time you and your troops joined up with their battalion, you threw yourself in front of a blazer bomb. Saved the lives of fifteen men.”

Anakin had done that enough times that that didn’t really narrow it down for him. “Which campaign?” he asked, but the trooper ignored him yet again, which seemed rude, considering he’d started the conversation in the first place.

A commlink chirped – Anakin instinctively looked to his own belt before remembering he didn’t wear one anymore – and one of the troopers at the front of their procession answered it.

“We’re ready for you, Sergeant,” the voice on the other end said.

“Copy,” the man said, replacing the device on his belt.

“Well, I’m not ready,” Anakin said, and he stopped walking. The troopers at his back nearly ran into him. “I’m not going any further without an explanation. If you can’t give me that, then you can just put me back in my cell, because” –

“We do regular maintenance, on all the cells,” one of the troopers injected, talking over the tail end of Anakin’s sentence. “Routine cleaning, things like that. Check that the water pipes are functioning properly, do a little light dusting…”

“I don’t care if my cell is clean or not,” Anakin hissed. “You can skip mine for the next five months if you want. Or let me do it myself. Is that the problem? Just give me the tools and leave me alone. If you’re worried I’m going to break out, I promise I won’t. As long as you’ve got Obi-Wan here I’m, like, the opposite of a flight risk.”

“It might take, say, three hours to finish the whole floor, wouldn’t you say?” the trooper on Anakin’s left asked the trooper on Anakin’s right.

“Maybe as many as four,” he responded.

“And we do these sorts of rounds every other week,” the first one continued.

“What’s that got to do with anything?” Anakin demanded.

“If you’d just wait right in here, Prisoner 224,” the trooper who was friends with Punch said, and nudged Anakin in the back with the butt of his rifle.

“I told you; I’m not going. And you’re bluffing. You won’t shoot me.”

“That’s true,” the trooper admitted. “I’m not. What I am going to do is count to thirty, and by the time I get to the end, you’re going to decide to go, all on your own.”

“Ha,” Anakin said. “Like hell I am. What on earth do you think would make me” –

“Here we are, sir,” another of the troopers said, and he punched the button to release the door guard in front of one of the cells. He was wearing a bucket, but he somehow seemed to be able to stare straight into Anakin’s eyes anyway. “Four hours, every other week,” he repeated slowly, enunciating very clearly.

“I don’t care how clean it is,” Anakin insisted, just as he was very unceremoniously shoved forward into the new cell he absolutely did not want to be in –

“Oh. Hello, sweetheart,” Obi-Wan said, sitting up from where he’d been lying on his back across his bunk, his arms crossed behind his head. “Fancy seeing you here.”

“What” – Anakin stammered as the door guard slammed down behind him, locking him in. Locking him into Obi-Wan’s cell. With Obi-Wan.

Anakin opened his mouth. Shut it. Opened it again. The binders around his wrists unlocked and fell to the floor with a clatter. “Send Punch my regards,” he said, without turning his head. He and Obi-Wan hadn’t stopped staring into one another’s eyes from the moment they’d faced one another. Obi-Wan grinned. Anakin grinned back.

“Will do, sir,” his friend said jovially, but Anakin missed hearing him as he launched himself at Obi-Wan and Obi-Wan, laughing, caught him and lowered him down onto his bunk.

“Did I just hear you say something about four hours?” Obi-Wan asked mischievously, one eyebrow raising into a verbal question mark.

“Shut up and kiss me,” Anakin said, and Obi-Wan did.

#hey sweetheart #out of sync #obikin

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em-prentiss · 2 months ago

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intertwined, sewn together

----

Chapter 2

A series of unconnected fluff blurbs inspired by prompts from this prompt list <3

Prompt: They gently trace patterns on each other’s skin, like absentmindedly drawing circles on the other’s arm.

Word count: 1.2k

----

Aaron

Emily has the softest skin.

It’s something he’d discovered early on in their relationship—feeling the slip of her warm thighs beneath short shorts, the hidden expanse of her inner arm around his neck, his fingertips on the exposed skin of her midriff when she’d get up on her tiptoes to reach him. It always smells faintly of the lotion she’d lathered on that day, either vanilla or cocoa butter; doesn’t matter what it is, because it’ll have Aaron pressing his lips to the curve of her shoulder anyway.

The soft skin of her inner elbow is his target tonight, though he’s not really conscious of it. When Emily finally slides back into the booth with both of their drinks in hand, his arm slips around her shoulders before he even reaches for his scotch.

“What took so long?” Aaron murmurs, his lips to her ear so she can hear him over the music.

Emily rolls her eyes. “The bartender was too busy flirting to notice me. I almost shoved my badge up his ass.” She grumbles, the scrunch between her brows loosening when his fingers dip into the crevice of her elbow.

Aaron laughs. “Honey, you don’t have your badge on you.”

“Don’t I?” Emily frowns, just buzzed enough to forget she left it in her purse in the car, along with her blazer. She leans further into him, her knee hooking over his. “I could’ve just taken yours, then.”

Aaron rubs circles into the warm expanse of her skin. There’s a mole right in the center of her inner elbow, and though he can’t physically feel it, the imprint of it is there under the pad of his finger. “I’m sorry to say we don’t look very much alike.” Her dark hair falls against her cheek and he smiles as he tucks it back behind her ear. “And I’d hate to see you go to jail for identity theft at a bar.”

A soft pout curls her lips. “You’d bail me out, wouldn’t you?”

It’s almost painful, the way his heart aches in his chest. There’s a softness to her when she’s like this, a little drunk and a little pouty, melting into his chest as she looks up at him with her beautifully glittering eyes. There’s no one at the table but him and her, though it feels more likely that there’s no one else to exist outside this small bubble of them. Without his permission, a heart draws itself on the silky skin of her elbow.

“Of course I would.” Aaron says, and her jutted lip is chased away with a brilliant smile. Emily’s teeth glint under the lights as she takes his hand, links their fingers together.

“Dance with me?”

Of course he would.

Emily

He won’t admit it, but he’s sleepy. Emily has learned to pick out the signs; continuous blinking, a pinch to the corner of his mouth as he stifles his yawns. Add to that the drowsy slant of his eyes, the way his lashes almost kiss his cheeks, and she knows he’s only hanging on by a weak thread.

As they walk through the parking lot, her eyes catch the subtle way he sways. Both of their bags are hooked over his shoulder, tilting when he does. He holds the car key in a loose fist, toying with it until they finally reach the car, pressing the unlock button with a click as he heads for the driver’s side. Emily follows him.

“Aaron.” She cups her hand over his, trying to worm her fingers into the gaps between his knuckles to reach for the key. He gives her a confused frown and she tries to flash an encouraging smile. “Let me drive.”

The space between his brows lessens further. “Why?” He closes his hand tighter around the key, trapping her fingers out. Emily swallows a sigh.

“Because you’re dead on your feet.”

He shakes his head, “I’m fine.”

Emily opens her mouth to protest and his fingertips nudge her lower back, gently pushing her to the passenger door. “Get in, it’s late.”

She persists. “Which is why I should be driving. You haven’t slept all day—”

“Honey, please.” His sigh is smothered in a kiss to her hairline. “I’m fine, I promise.” He mumbles. Emily doesn’t miss the slight way he leans into her, his weary bones resting against hers for a split second before he carries himself upright again. “Just get in, please?”

“I don’t know why you won’t just admit it,” Emily huffs as she pulls away from his arms. She’s not 100% either, but at least she’d gotten some shut-eye on the jet, closed her eyes while he worked on his report to spare himself a trip to the office.

The slam of her car door is loud in the deserted parking lot, and yet she still hears Aaron’s low sigh as he tosses the bags in the backseat and slides in next to her.

Just a few minutes after he drives off, she hears his intake of breath as he yawns, then tries to stifles it.

I told you to let me drive won’t do anything helpful, so she picks his hand up from where it rests on his thigh. Emily gently digs her thumb in the groove between his thumb and index finger, bringing his hand further into her lap as if to inspect it. As if she doesn’t have every detail about it committed to memory, from the roughness of his calluses to his neatly trimmed nails and the dusting of hair running from his forearm to the back of his hand.

She traces her short nail between his knuckles. Just with her index finger, an aimless path from his joints to his wrist. With her other hand, she absently intertwines her fingers with his, squeezing and getting a weak squeeze back.

“Is this your way of trying to keep me awake?” His voice comes soft, a bit of gravel threading through the words.

“Hmm,” Emily hums, dragging her nail through the dark strands of hair at his wrist and back up to his knuckles, “since you can’t have any coffee. And didn’t listen to me. Is it working?”

“It’s kind of ticklish, so yes.”

Emily flattens the pad of her finger on the back of his hand. She moves it without purpose, drawing wavy lines and the occasional circle on his warm skin. Her lips follow after in a soft kiss.

“Now you’ll put me to sleep.” Aaron teases.

Emily’s head snaps up, her eyes narrowing at him. “I hardly think it’s my fault.” Her voice echoes in the quiet of the car, thick with accusation.

“Shh, I’m okay, Em.” He lifts their joint hands, turns them so her knuckles feel the press of his lips. “We’re almost home. And I haven’t crashed yet, so…” He trails off, the smile audible in his voice as he shrugs.

“All thanks to me,” Emily grumbles.

Aaron smiles against her hand. “All thanks to you,” he agrees, kissing it again.

“So does that mean you admit I was right?”

The sigh leaves his lips before she’s even done asking her question.

taglist: @kllingdaddy @luhwithah @cheetobreath07 @dontemilyyyyme

#emily prentiss #aaron hotchner #hotchniss #aaron hotchner x emily prentiss #hotchniss fanfiction #aaron hotchner fanfiction #emily prentiss fanfiction #hotchniss fic #hotchniss fics #hotchniss drabble #hotchniss blurb #hotchniss fanfic #criminal minds fanfic #flufftober

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lotties-ashwagandha · 2 years ago

Note

hayyyy in the morning mood for some writing from my fav writer and boom here i am. can i make a request PLEASE and THANK YOU

let’s spice up your oceans 8 masterlist yes?? LOU X READER PERHAPS???

mad as per usual you have free reign, give me something argument based tho… maybe post argument because grumpy satirical lou is a heartthrob yes

thanks babe

love you always <E

HAY BITCH HELL YEAH HOW IS THIS?? @cartoonpeoples

also. im so gay bro im too gay for this why are u doing this to me im im

WATERED-DOWN VODKA

pairing: lou miller x reader

word count: 842

notes and warnings: currently watching oceans 8 as i write this ,,, they are at subway. also everyone go say happy birthday to @cartoonpeoples

taglist: @cartoonpeoples @thedeconstructionist @cordeliass @paulsonsratched @mayfair-fleur @goodeday2u @traumatisedfangirl

- BARELY PRE-HEIST (DEBBIE JUST GOT OUT OF PRISON) -

You could hear her slamming plates in the kitchen as she put them away.

You sat in the main lobby of the theater, switching the television channel every few seconds — you were hardly able to focus on any of the movies playing, leftover fury still burning in your chest from earlier.

Debbie Ocean had gotten out of jail close to a week ago. She had been staying with the two of you, something else you and Lou had argued about, and in the end she had won as you’d known she would, under the condition that Debbie was to stay no more than a couple of days.

“She has nowhere else to go,” Lou had whispered in the kitchen upon Debbie’s arrival. “You can't expect me to leave her in the middle of New York with nowhere to stay.”

You scoffed. “Oh, I’m sure she could con herself into the fucking Ritz if she wanted to.”

Lou had tilted her head, giving you that look, the look that said everything in her silence.

At that point, you knew you were fucked.

Content with the news playing on the TV, you set the remote on the coffee table.

After a few minutes, the slamming of the dishes stopped, and the door to the kitchen opened and shut.

You sighed, a new flash of anger overcoming you. Neither of you had said anything, but her mere presence enraged you, the nonchalance with which she sat on the sofa and began to fiddle with her lighter. You wanted to knock the damn thing out of her hand — the continuous clicking, not a moment’s peace, and the worst part was she knew it got under your skin.

Lou took the remote from the coffee table, changing the channel to a heist movie.

You took it back once she had set it down, changing the channel back to the news.

Again, she changed the channel.

“So fucking childish,” you breathed, leaving the remote alone at last.

“What was that?” Lou asked, though you knew she’d heard you perfectly well.

You were silent for a while, letting everything both of you wished to say hang in the air uncomfortably. Part of you desperately wanted to go to the bedroom and lock her out, though you were intent on not ‘letting her win,’ so you stayed exactly where you were.

Abruptly, you snatched the remote, turning off the TV. “We need to talk about this.”

Lou put down the lighter. “I thought we already did.”

“How much did Debbie offer you? $16 million?”

Lou nodded, her expression relatively vacant except for a growing irritation. Her hair was a bit disheveled, and even the blazer of her burgundy suit had been lost somewhere within your bickering matches, leaving her clad only in an Arctic Monkeys t-shirt she had cut the sleeves and neck out of and a pair of burgundy suit pants.

Debbie had approached Lou about joining her in a heist almost as soon as she arrived. She was planning to rob the Met Gala, a feat unthinkable, and you were certain it would fail. You had never trusted Debbie to begin with.

“How do you know you won’t get caught if you join her?” You said quietly, and the energy in the room shifted ever so slightly, and the irritation in Lou’s features faded a bit. “Debbie went to jail for 5 years for a heist that’s nowhere near as dangerous as what she’s planning now. I don’t have the money to bail you out if you get caught.”

“Deb’s been planning this for 5 years.”

“Yeah, while she was in fucking prison.”

Lou sighed, leaning back on the sofa, her exhaustion obvious. The two of you had been arguing about the heist for hours, and neither of you were willing to compromise in the slightest. “Is it about Debbie?” She asked. “Is that why you don’t like this? You don’t seem to have a problem with the rest of the shit I do.”

“You water down vodka, Lou,” you snapped. “It’s kind of fucking different.”

Lou did not respond, only staring off into her own thoughts.

You froze for a moment, coming to a terrible yet viable conclusion, sitting up straight in your armchair. “What if I joined, too?”

Lou raised her eyebrows, trying to see if you were joking. When she realized you weren’t, she was seething. “No.”

“Why not? You act like you’re the only fucking criminal here.”

“Yeah, but it’s an unnecessary risk. If you got caught with us-”

“We would both go down,” you interrupted. “That’s the only way I’ll stay if you do this.”

“You’re so fucking difficult,” she groaned.

“What was that?” You asked, quoting her words from earlier.

The ghost of a smile passed her lips.

“Is that a yes?”

Wordlessly she nodded, stretching her arms out for you, and you joined her on the sofa, leaning into her.

She took the remote from the coffee table — she turned on the news.

#oceans 8 #lou miller x reader #lou miller #ocean’s 8 #oceans eight #ocean’s eight #lgbtq #cate blanchett #cate blanchett x reader

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vamqyr3 · 2 years ago

Note

hii! hope ur well plsplspls could u make a one shot ab how the reader makes valeria mad on purpose like maybe with another guy? idk just something bro there's nothing for her 😭😭

↳ VALERIA “EL SIN NOMBRE” GARZA, TASK FORCE 141 // ATTENTION. ★

CW// PUBLIC, BRAT TAMING, SPIT, EXHIBITION, ROUGH, RESTRAINING, POSSESSION, MAINLY ALEJANDRO X FEM!READER, ECT.

NOTES// I still need more requests guys..💔 also real talk? This was mid. Do I care? No. But know in a different timeline I can write better than this.

The wooded floor clicked under boot and heel. Handfuls of political leaders and influential head figures weighed down the foundation. Valeria had been down in that musty room for ages. Left you at the elevator, told you to stay put and took the Scotsman with her. She had a horrible insatiable hungry need to keep you safe at all times, away from danger and smuggled behind bullet shielded doors. It was infuriating, it was dismissive of your years of training, the war thick scars on your sides and the time spent fighting by her side. You had a capacity for violence too, for action, for mischief.

You should’ve jumped in the pool, peeled off the shell of clothes and let any mayor of the city see the brand of bra you wear. But the mayor secured protection under law, and the alliance with the peoples to the south provided useful in territory scuffles. To do that would undoubtedly hurt her, that would be selfish. Just anything to get her attention, really.

There’s two men down the hall, to the right of you, another wears a mask flat against the elevators adjacent wall. Valeria was smart to leave you with a guard, nice even. But she was dumb to leave you unattended, needy. You wanted to see just how far you could push it.

“What’s your name?”

“Andres, miss” He refuses to look at you, hands hidden to the back of the suit. You had hated Diego for many things, including his choice in uniform. The ski mask and blazer was trashy, it served no purpose in anonymity and led to complications. You couldn’t even see his reactions to your senseless parade of angled looks and sugary words. That man, the man named Andres wearing a mask? That man would do just fine to entertain you tonight.

“I could get you out of here,” he’s finally looking at you, tilting the left most side of your hip upwards. “Get someone to cover your post and finally get you off your feet,” He stands there silently for a moment, smelling bits of dust and digging into the velvet carpet. “No thank you, miss,” he doesn’t seem to understand.

“Scared the big bad Diego’s gonna find you?” Your jutting bottom lip smooths your words to sound mean, condescending. You know he’s not. “I cannot let you out of my sight,” his head bobs with every gritty word. “No, your just worried the boss is gonna catch your ass,” you make footprints in the rug leading up to him, hooking the best of your finger round the dry belt loop of his pants. You smell sweet, and move your mouth even sweeter, cutting holes in his figure with your eyes and letting the poor boy marinate in filth. “You know, I could get you in with the top dogs, get you a real nice seat next to El Sin Nombre,” there’s a glint in the gelatinous coating of your waterline, it turns up to resemble your brows. The air around him is stale and your touch is sudden, leaving his back rigid. You smile.

Valerias shouting to the end of the hall, pushing the scotsman, Diego trails behind. She yells like a chastising mother, having caught the two of you red handed. She breaths steams of anger and tugs at you with excitement. There’s a twinge of pain as her hand chokes the back of your arm, it leads to a trip or two of your feet. A left foot dance to the elevator, up a few floors and down the way.

The rest of the night had went to shit. Left you choked up and humiliated. It had Diego dead, Valeria in storage crate and you zip tied and rubbed raw. The men had refused to let you into the metal jail as they spoke, yet had arrested you in hopes to use you for intel. You could still hear yelling echoing from inch to inch, but it’s sharp undertones went silent crashing along the walls. And that man? Andres? He grabbed you in a same fashion Valeria had to stuff you back into the chipped shipping crate.

She was not tied to the chair, the two of you shared equal opportunity to snap past the bunch and struggle with the door. But they were armed, they were tall and they were men. The door closes behind you, clipping shut on its lock, and Valeria stands proud under light, atop a chair.

“What’s your plan?”

“I give them what they want, they go,” Her head juts in the direction of her words and she pauses a while to pick at her next choice sentence. “We’re you in on this?”

“What? Baby, I’m handcuffed, how would I be in on this?”

“I don’t know you tell me,” She grows alive in her seat, stalking closer, arms folded. “You were the one humping Alejandro in the back of the elevator,”

“Who?”

“The man I left you with,” she’s coughing at your ignorance, cold to the marrow of her bones. You could only assume at some point she had found reason in your doe eyes, rationed logic and self induced restraint. Because soon after her nose points to dim lit chair and commands you to sit in it, and you do.

She looks down into you, surveying the twitch of your knee and the curve of your lidded eyes. The way you flinch under the weight of her hand, smoothing over your breast to jawline. Tilting your cheek to look back to her, poking your legs apart with her boot and curling wet lips into one another.

They talk just outside, a chilling reminder of the not only dangerous, but annoying situation you sat on. Hopefully she didn’t intend to enact her humiliating bouts of revenge with the cowboys so close on listing ears?

“Do you think it’s funny?” the hem of your crisp cut jeans ringed around her knuckle. “Hm? Getting a rise out of me?” ”Yeah, like you ever fuckin’ pay attention,”

“Oh, so that’s what it is? You act like a bitch to get my attention?” You smile and twist your hips away, palms wring your thick sides back into the hard bit of the chair. “Answer me, don’t play dumb,”

“No, I just get bored,”

She smacks at the side of your face, pressing her cheeks flat and kneeling down to your size. Wetting the bottom of your lip, her hand rolls into your underside, feeling up the clothed meaty bit of your crotch. There’s a ear splitting ever constant hiss of the lamp, the noise outside seems to be thinning and her patience follows in toe. “They’re right outside,”

“Oh? But, I thought you wanted the attention?”

Furiously, she unsticks the clasp at your hips, tearing down at the fabric like it was scolding hot and wrangling your twisting bottom. The butt end of her thumb rubs between you, raw and rhythmic. The connect of your slicked lips on hers make recognizable clicking sounds and it lulls you to a daze.

If only they knew just how good of a show you had put on earlier. Knew the silhouette of her tongue in cheek, the attention her hands placed roughly upon your body. The thick smell of her heavy breath, the taste of her teeth and the feel of her torso fighting yours. Her pointed fingers map the outline of your bottom half, other hand finding purchase on the meat of your hip, she takes care to drag the topside of her index along your sticky cunt. Sloshing past the fatty folds and kissing the velvety walls. Her movement is slow and meticulous, grazing the rivets of your innermost nerves.

You instinctively slot your mouth open, hoping to let noise out. She’s quick to make you forget about the company outside, the immense swelling of distress and bitter tasting words fall flat against her gooey fingers. You want her to go faster, the twinge of your hipbone mock a faster pace and she’s quick to shut it down with a slurry of sharp snaps to your silken clit.

You didn’t know how loud you were. But using the scream of the tactile aluminum door groaning alive in action, your breathy pants pale in comparison. Though evidently loud enough for a soldier outside to hear. One of the bunch is sulking through the door, dipping through the shadows. Valeria seems not to care, refusing to turn her back and flexing the muscle of her forearm delving wide into you. He clears invisible bits of stuff from his throat, hand ringing the upper half of the tactical vest with his right hand, nodding and smiling.

“Take a look at this,” it’s that Alejandro boy. It was an unlucky roadblock, but you didn’t mind. You wouldn’t mind flirting with any other man and having her fuck you with your head in their lap. Watching them grow alive with want. Wouldn’t mind the smack of her hand on your ass sending you up into the cold wall, clash loud enough for the group to hear. But she did care, a lot.

She’s sparking with a new found anger, barring her teeth and curling out to scare him away. He’s throwing up his palms and smiling into a laugh, exchanging a few heated words in their native tongue and refocusing back to you. The door’s still open on it’s hinges, a white back drop to contrast the darkness encased within the metal cube.

He scoots past Valeria, sliding a finger down your jawline and testing your temper. Your shifting a bit to get the seams of your jeans to fall back in place, an action preferably done manually now stopped by the zip ties wound round your prickled wrists.

“I bet you don’t mind sharing?” “Valeria seems too,” he’s laughing, face ribboning to make way for teeth. “She’s all bark, no bite,” Her hips roll In the same fashion of her eyes, pink tongue picking at her gummy check. The soles of her feet unstick from the floor and her thighs level with the ground, face now close enough to tear down the straps of your clothes and have you jumping at the chilly seat. Alejandro is edging on uncomfortably close, hints of his lower half glaze the shell of your ear and he won’t stop smiling. Saying something along the lines of, “Didn’t know Valeria could wrangle something as pretty as you.” You can taste her anger, feel it through the tips of her tongue on your clit. If getting her pissed was how this all started, you would do it all again.

The folds of his pant rolls over your nose, propping open your mouth and sticking your eyes back onto her, you map the outline of Alejandro’s cock with your teeth. Spit seeps back into the cotton drying out the reservoir behind your lips. You didn’t mind if his boney palm eclipsed the back of your hair, smashing you wider, it made her eyes thinner, sharper. Made your knees creep farther and chair jiggle with excitement.

Her tongue smooths over the beady dot, inching back and forth with the suction of her mouth. Pink nails make red hot half moons into the plush of your thigh. She licks your nerves, sliding into every ridge and leaves wet trails of ecstasy. You wanted to fuck her like an animal and Alejandro’s task to pick up on it. Excitedly unraveling the thick knots of his pant hem, he’s jumping out of the clothes.

The Scotsman is second to follow, outlined in white light and overcast with shadow. He’s stood on his left foot, leaning into the doorframe. You turn your head to look at Alejandro, frantically spilling out from under his elastic banded underwear. He holds himself up, other hand pushing down the tops of his boxer shorts. Your quick to leave lines of kisses under his hand, Valeria bites at you in protest. Maybe Mohawk would join in, stand opposite of his comrade and strip you of a shirt. Make you ring your hand around him, fuck himself into the hold and steady your face on Alejandro with his palm. Just maybe.

Your jaw falls slack to envelop the man, he slots far into you, hard bits of your mouth graze the uppermost top of him. Valeria sweetens the dance of salt and slobber, ribbons of syrupy spit slide down your chin, bubbling off your lips. You want to plead with her to go faster, let your hands and hips go to buck into her. But the tight flinch of your muscle with every swallow screws your eyelids and brows together. You’ve been made to sit there and take whatever they damn near please.

“What’s going on down there Alejandro? You gotta party and didn’t invite me?”

“You wish, Graves,”

Not only could they hear you on comms, but through the wide voided doorframe, no doubt. Soaps absentmindedly nudging at the knot in his crotch. The sight alone is leaving silky thick ropes between you and Valeria’s full mouth. It all edges between too much to handle, the hard collide of his stomach on your chin leaves a ringing louder than the lamp in your ears. Your whole body’s buzzing, tiptoeing off the floor trying to escape Valeria for a moments rest. Some other man has an arm slung around the shoulder of Soap, eyeing you down just as hard.

He begins to Crescendo, popping out a while and leaving the cream splattered tip to lay on the plato of your puffy tongue. Your lover’s quick to reprimand him, switching her tired mouth for broad thumb. Kurt swipes shiver your lower abdomen, have you tightening on gasps of air. The warmer half of you is melting into the chair, charred in the heat of ever constant stimulation. Alejandro’s back in your mouth, digging into your rippled and beaten throat with a strong hand to guide the senseless berate.

They’re mumbling about near the door, fist deep in their pants. Valeria shifts on her knees and starts with a new passion, throwing your hips back onto her nose and bumped muscle. The gagging and sputtering is quelled with a sense of familiarity. You’re pulling on the ties, choking for tight air. He’s laughing at the view, little bits of juice collected in the lines of his forehead. He begins to palm at your chest, rolling the meaty pouch between his leathery fingers. Graves is on the radio, his words of encouragement are mixed with static and hot air. Commenting endlessly on just how good it sounds, how the boys wish they were there. Alejandro is impossibly loud, Valeria’s using your thighs to cut off the screams, burrowing farther and farther. Her fingers tapping at your clit, tongue pressing into your mushy hole.

She’s pushing you through your undoing, waving her face all over. It leaves you twitching in the chair, struggling to exhale while still gagging. His hand never leaves your skull, finding pleasure in your pained chokes. Alejandro’s right hand shoots up to cup your ear, pressing your nose into his pelvic bone. And he stays there, far and wide, balls deep into your throat. Mouth a perfect ring and making new wrinkles into his temples. He unsheathes himself after a good while. You fail to see the boy’s reaction to it all, Valeria’s quick to rise high and cut your sights short. Latching onto your jaw angrily, she’s prying your teeth to part, kissing and licking the musty salt and cum out. She pulls back, satisfied, purses her cheeks and spits it all back.

“Swallow,”

#valeria garza #el sin nombre #cod mw22 #call of duty #valeria garza x reader #call of duty modern warfare #mw2 #call of duty mw2 #task force 141 #alejandro x reader #alejandro mw2 #alejandro garza

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princess-of-the-corner · 7 months ago

Text

And Yet More Random Fanfic Quotes!

: )

IcyThotPainRelief: Remember Zuku murder is illegal

Izuwu: Ur one to talk!

IcyThotPainRelief: Look if im not allowed to ruin my reputation neither are u! we either go down together or not at all bitch!

Mom-o: Hagakura! That is highly inappropriate! Even if he does sound like an unsavory individual, we still don’t know how Midoriya feels about the whole situation! So, it’s best not to assume his feelings on the subject.

Izuwu: Well he’s dead to me so technically u guys arnt wrong the bastered can rot in hell for all the heart ach he gave my mom!

Mom-o: Oh okay, carry on you guys.

SharkBoi: Am i gunna need to bail my boyfriend out of jail?

WeepingDarkness669: Thats only if he gets caught

Pikachu: Bold of u to assume our dear Kacchan knows anything about keeping things lowkey when it comes to acts of violence

Tired™: Dont be dragging me into u guys is shit! I was a happy little introvert chilling on my own until u guys showed up!

IcyThotPainRelief: U should of thought of that before spilling ur entire traumatic backstory within a 5 mile radius of Izuku “I will save people with the power of friendship” Midoriya

Izuwu: So as auntie Mitsuki is beating my dead-beat dad with her shoe and guess who decided to show up out ow fuckin nowhere?

Pikachu: The pizza delivery guy?

WeepingDarkness: Death itself?

DisneyPrincess: The cops?

AlienQween: *gestured with feeling* Aliens?

SugarDaddy: The League of Villains?

Hentai: Jesus fucking chist guys…

Izuwu: ALL MIGHT!!!

Izuwu: With like?? a bouquet of flowers?? and in a blazer?? Cuz like apparently hes going out with my mom??

IcyThotPainRelief: I FUSKING KNWE IT!!!

Izuwu: Still not his secret love child Sho!

Izuwu: So anyways All Might is there and is all like “what’s going on” and Kacchan goes “we’re beating up Deku’s shitty dad” then All Might said “wait he’s alive??”

DefyingGravity: Deku’s useless Y chromosome user: quit telling everyone im dead!

DefyingGravity: Us: sometimes i can still hear his voice

Izuwu: SO ANYWAYS

Izuwu: Auntie finally stops beating up my father because she too is really surprised to see All Might at our door step which now allows my sperm doner to finally be aware of his surroundings and he looks up at All Might and goes “who the hell are u and what do u want?” and then All Might looks this man dead in the eye and fuking goes “Im here to pick up ur wife we have dinner reservations!”

Izuwu: I THOUGHT WE WERW FRIENDS IIDA!!

Saaanic: We are and it is my job to tell you that your entire existence is being held together by sticky tape, a lot of prayer, and spite.

WAKEMEUPwakemeupinside: you ever think about how we define sandwichs by the inside of them not the outside

WAKEMEUPwakemeupinside: like you never say “oh i gotta wheat bread sandwich”

“You’re worth a hundred of them,” Todoroki said shortly.

“I disagree,” Iida said dryly. “A hundred of any of them would make poor company.”

LabSafety101: she’s surprisingly subdued rn, I actually convinced her to take a nap

Dadzawa: that’s because she worked for 72 hours straight with minimal caffeine

LabSafety101: hey chiyo

GrannyChiyo: if she’s already asleep I can’t do anything

LabSafety101: yeah but can you make sure she’s not about to die in her sleep

Yamadad: the boys made sure she ate, dw

LabSafety101: was it healthy?

Yamadad: idk but it was food!

UncleGun: I know for a fact that basically every kid in school at least knows half the common swear words

UncleGun: but it’s also really fun to say “dagnabbit”

“Alright. I didn’t ask you to get your hero costumes because today you will all be fighting Shinsou.”

The whole class raised their eyebrows. Shinsou tried his hardest not to scream inside though.

Because, what the fuck?

“Uh, sir. That doesn’t seem very fair,” Momo spoke up.

“Yes I know.” Aizawa nodded, “Also, none of you are allowed to use your quirks. Except him, obviously.”

“Why!” Bakugou shouted, “I wanna beat him nice and fair!”

Aizawa was not fazed. “You all know how Shinsou’s quirk works. Once you respond to him, he can make you do anything. That is all. Is that too hard for you?”

The class frowned. Was that a trick question?

Aizawa nodded, and made to sit down. Shinsou stopped him, speaking quietly, “I… I think you’re overestimating my power, here.”

Aizawa just scoffed, “I think you’re underestimating their stupidity.”

[…]

After five minutes, there were only three students in front of him. Kouda, because he didn’t talk anyway, Ojirou, because he had actually learned his lesson at the sports festival, and Sero, who had literally taped his mouth shut.

Aizawa walked towards them and stood next to Shinsou. The ones at the wall, looked at him in varying degrees, of shame and disbelief.

The teacher sighed, “All you had to do was not talk.” He shook his head at them, “That’s all you had to do.”

Pro Hero Hawks: So you’ll get to meet all kinds of heroes! Maybe even All Might!

Pro Hero Hawks: Yes, this is naked bribery.

“Young Midoriya is quite the hero fan, isn’t he?”

“He’s not just a fan, Yagi-san, he’s not just an air conditioner either: Midoriya-kun is an entire HVAC system.”

“Gentlemen, I am here, with some brand new handcuffs! Who would like to try them on first?”

Izuku, despite his professionalism as an analyst, despite his commitment to be a hero, still found that teenage urge to throw his head back and groan at the prospect of something that could be seen as a boring, pointless task. He fought the feeling down, self-control pinning it to the ground and discipline clubbing it with a half-brick in a sock before dragging it back into the depths of his mind, and then assumed a low stance.

Mirko’s kicks were well known for breaking bones.

Coincidentally, high schoolers tended to have bones.

I AM CACKLING I LOVE THIS

#submission

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vandermorganable · 4 days ago

Text

Nothing Lasts Forever

Description: When the day of Henry and Vito’s wedding came, it was meant to be a day of love and happiness. Instead, it ended in tragedy and heartbreak.

Loosely based on Guns N Roses “November Rain” music video.

Relationship: Vito Scaletta x Henry Tomasino

⚠️CONTENT WARNING⚠️ : Murder, Blood

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Vito strolled his eyes up and down at his reflection in the mirror. His frame dressed in a brand new tuxedo. He’d worn many suits since he’d joined the mob, but it was different this time. He was dressed for his own wedding. Ever since getting out of jail and being involved with the mafia, marriage seemed like a far away dream. Then, a charming, handsome man entered his life. His name was Henry Tomasino. Yes, he was the reason he went to jail in the first place, however, it wasn’t his fault. It was just business. At least, that’s what he tried to convince to believe Henry to make him feel better.

But that was in the past. There were people waiting for them to wed. It was too late to rethink this whole thing. The door opened behind him. Vito turned to see who it was. It was Joe. He joined him in the mirror. His wide body being too big to fit in the small frame of it.

“Wow, I can’t believe it. My best friend is getting married.” Joe placed his hands on Vito’s shoulders. “I was beginning to believe that you’d be needing to blend your food up before you eat it before you’d get to this day.”

“Oh, fuck you. I don’t see you with a ring on your finger.” Vito pointed out, gesturing towards Joe’s ring finger.

“I’m not a one woman type of man.”

“I’m not either, but look at me now.”

“That’s because you’re a one man type of man.”

Vito laughed. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

Marty was the next to enter the room to let them know that Henry was ready.

“You ready?” Joe asked, smiling.

“Yeah, I’m ready.” He adjusted his blazer.

They waited behind the doors to the aisle. Joe was going to be the one to walk him down the aisle. Francesca was his first choice, but she declined. She was still pissed about what happened between him and her husband and even more so when she discovered it was a man he was marrying. It was a punch to his face when the realization his mother wouldn’t be there to see him get married hit him. Hearing his sister wasn’t even going to show her face was a shot in the back. He felt his eyes beginning to sting as tears began to well up. Noticing, Joe poked his head through the door and told them to wait.

He cupped his giant hands around his face. “What’s the matter, Vito? You want me to call it off?”

“N-No. It’s just…Francesca,” he simply said, knowing that Joe would get what he meant without needing more context.

“Aww, that’s what got you so worked up. C’mere.” Joe pulled him into a hug.

When his face was completely hidden from the world, he released the tears he was trying to hold back. Joe rubbed his back slowly and gently. Vito couldn’t sit there and cry forever. He needed to get out there. He pulled away from the hug and wiped his face with a handkerchief he kept in his pocket in case he needed it.

“You done?” Joe questioned.

“Yeah, and Joe? Lay off the fucking cologne. You don’t need to use the whole bottle,” Vito complained.

“Hey, I wanted to smell nice. Special events require special scents,” he responded.

Vito rolled his eyes. Joe gave them the go ahead. The traditional wedding music started. Vito wrapped his arm around Joe’s and puffed his chest out to straighten his posture. He and Joe exchanged a final look before the doors opened. The guests stood, all facing towards him and Joe. Henry was at the end of the aisle. A proud smile spread across his face, making wrinkles appear at the corners of his eyes.

Vito and Joe sauntered down the aisle. Many things were going through his head. None of them were regret. He thought about their honeymoon to Paris, moving to a bigger and better house, and, when the time was right, adopting a few kids. Marrying Henry would bring his life back into the right direction.

He was at the end of the aisle, inches away from Henry now. Joe handed him over, giving both of them a wink prior to going to stand with the other groomsmen behind Henry. Henry and Vito joined their hands, staring into his eyes as the officiant started his speech. Now, they were at the boring part. Vito pretty much tuned out the officiant and kept his focused on Henry, only tuning in when they got to the part where they had to read their vows.

Henry was first. He took out a piece of paper from his pocket and began reading.

“Vittorio Antonio Scaletta. The moment Joe introduced me to you at Freddy’s Bar was the moment I decided you were the one. You accepting my hand in marriage proved to me that you was the one.

6 years we were apart. 6 lonely years I had. The skies were grey, and the clouds weeped. The grass had turned to a dirty yellow color. It seemed like, without you, the world had lost its color and liveliness. Seeing how dull everything had became without your presence made me not want to live in a world like that ever again.

You are the rays of light that emits from the sun. You are the waves crashing onto the coastline. You are the breeze that blows through my hair on a windy day. You are the oxygen I breathe. You are my reason to continue to push through this tough life, which is why I love every part of you.

Thank you for giving me the chance to spend the rest of my life with you as my husband.”

Henry was crying by the end. Vito wanted to kiss him right there. It took everything inside of him to sit and wait for that.

Vito didn’t write his vows down. He wanted his to come naturally.

“Before you came into my life, I was confused. I didn’t know what to do with my newfound freedom. You have helped me time and time again to get rid of that confusion. You helped me get a job, you gave me a shoulder to cry on, and, most importantly, you gave me love.

My mother always told me growing up that ‘True love is not just in the moments we cherish but in the silent promises we hold in the spaces between them.’

My silent promises to you was to always guarantee your happiness and make sure you were never wanting for anything.

Henry Tomasino, thank you for choosing me to spend the rest of our lives together. I love you and will never stop loving you.”

Vito used the handkerchief to wipe his face again, then assisted Henry with wiping his. Afterwards, they exchanged rings one step away from sealing the deal.

“Do you, Henry Tomasino, take Vittorio Antonio Scaletta, to be your wedded husband?” The officiant asked.

Henry took in a deep sigh. “I do.”

“Do you, Vittorio Antonio Scaletta, take Henry Tomasino to be your wedded husband?”

“I do.”

“I now pronounce you two under your titles of husbands. You may end with a kiss.”

Neither of them hesitated. They kissed, settling their future as a married couple. The guests clapped. Vito and Henry joined a hands and marched down the aisle, heading to the limousine that’ll take them to the venue where the reception would take place. The ushers opened the doors. As soon as they stepped foot outside of the church, shots started ringing from an unknown black vehicle behind the limo. Henry tackled Vito to the ground. Joe shot at the armed men, who hurried down the street.

When the shots had quieted, Henry still hadn’t got up from on top of him. Vito managed to push his body off him. To his horror, Vito was covered in blood, but not his own. Henry’s face was contorted in agony. His black suit stained in red.

“Oh my god! He’s fucking dead. Henry’s dead!” Vito yelled, scooting back in terror.

Joe helped him up from the ground. “Oh my fuck! Who would do something like this?”

Vito breathed heavily, hoping this was a nightmare that he hadn’t woken up from. Henry was dead. They hadn’t even been married for 20 seconds and he was already dead. Vito didn’t know what to do. He was too much in shock to cry. There was a million things he expected to happen and this wasn’t one of them. Vito fell to his knees and covered his face with his hands.

“Henry…” was the last word he uttered before the world went dark.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Vito jolted awake. Body covered in sweat and goosebumps. He looked next to him, expecting Henry to be right there asleep, but he wasn’t. The mattress was empty. It’d been two days since Henry’s funeral and Vito couldn’t grasped into the fact that he was dead. Every morning he woke up believing that Henry was somewhere else in the house only to be slapped with the fact that he wasn’t. He was buried six feet under the ground.

There was a knock at the door. Vito climbed out of bed and put on his robe. He opened the door. Joe was on the other side in his loud outfit like always.

“What are you doing here, Joe?” Vito asked, walking over to the coffee machine.

“My daily routine of checking up on you. You were saying some pretty scary things during the funeral,” Joe explained, entering the house.

Since the funeral, Joe had been stopping by and calling in to check on his wellbeing. Vito had trouble remembering what’s been happening for the past week. What Joe was saying could be true, but he couldn’t recall.

Vito handed Joe his cup of coffee. He took a sip, enjoying the short-lived warmth of the beverage.

“Why, Joe? Why did this have to happen?” Vito questioned as if Joe knew the answer.

“I don’t know. But we’ll find the assholes who did it and give them hell.” Joe banged his hand on the table.

Vito took another swig of his coffee. When he turned his head for a short second, he caught a glimpse of a picture on the mantle of the fireplace. It was of him and Henry. He was kissing Henry on his cheek while Henry was smiling into the camera.

#mafia 2 #vito scaletta #henry tomasino #joe barbaro #vito x henry #leo galante #one shot #mafia trilogy #henry/vito

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harper-collins · 1 year ago

Text

When You're Missing A Face [Halloween Special]

Dipper had gotten himself in a bit of trouble just a day before Halloween and needed a way to sort things out quickly... Little did he know what he was getting himself into.

WARNING: GORY!! Graphic descriptions of gore and slight violence. Please be aware and do NOT read this if you're squeamish about that sort of thing.

Requested by @tinyriver-neonlights (I hope you enjoy!)

“Dipper, why don’t you come? You are dressed for the part!” Mabel pressed, looking at her brother with a slight amount of disdain. The male brunette could only shake his head. He had a large frown on his face, but it wasn’t visible as he had a mask over his face. It covered the majority of his face and didn’t show anything of the features you could see, and that, Dipper liked.

“I told you, Mabel, I have plans,” he replied, moving to grab a coat and his bag. She pouted and watched her brother for a moment. “You didn’t tell me about these plans! Is it with Pacifica?” She asked hopefully, a twinkle showing. Dipper’s frown deepened, just because he was bisexual, didn’t necessarily mean he wanted what many men and lesbians thought was the sexiest woman in Gravity Falls. He may have had the slightest little crush on her when they were twelve, but that was just him trying to get over Wendy, and by the time he’d returned a year later to see his uncles, he couldn’t have cared less.

“She’s coming to the party isn’t she?” Dipper pressed, his voice getting a little scratchy with his patience running out. “Ohh yeah… So what are you doing?” She asked, moving a small bit of her hair out of the way of her face. The male shook his head and began to walk towards the door, he wasn’t going to tell her even if she begged him. It was too dangerous, he shouldn’t have even thought of doing this himself, but he was desperate.

“Look, just have a nice time at the party alright? And uhh… Say hi to Gideon or whatever for me,” he told her and left. He closed the door before she could even muster a response. As soon as that door was shut he got going, speed-walking into the forest before his sister could run after him. With it getting dark earlier now, and him wearing black, it was easy to completely miss him in the darkness. It helped Dipper feel a little better about his circumstances, but he knew it wouldn’t be for long.

Next was the long trip to his planned Halloween evening. It was far enough so no one would disturb him or get hurt, but close enough that Dipper could find his way back without trouble if something went wrong. He was hoping his possible partner wouldn’t recognise their surroundings though, as things could end up going seriously wrong otherwise.

The path was long and windy, its twists and turns also proving to be a bit of a challenge at times. Halfway through said journey, it began to be a little too dark for Dipper’s tastes, so he whipped out a quick flashlight from his blazer pocket and continued on his trek undeterred. By the time he had arrived at the final place for his plan, it was around 8 pm and a continuous run would take him around half an hour of praying that he wouldn’t trip without his light before he got back to the Shack.

Despite this backup plan though, he was hoping that he wouldn’t have to use it, after all, he was tired of hiding what others thought was him getting into the mood of Halloween, tired of feeling the constant burning and prickling of his skin every time it brushed up against anything. He may have been able to bandage some things up, but others were impossible without anyone finding out. Which was why he was hoping for a quick get-out-of-jail-free card with what he was about to do.

Clearing his throat, Dipper opened his bag took out the second journal and flipped over the page that Gideon had taken out of the book which had been half-heartedly taped back together by himself. Bill Cipher’s summoning page… The one he’d used to get Bill to go into Stan’s mind all those years ago. There had been no word of Bill since their final battle, but Dipper had always had this distinct feeling that he’d never truly left. Surprisingly Stanford had lost that feeling, but Dipper thought it more of a relief after reading how badly the demon had affected the other’s mental health.

Shortly after this, he began to set things up, such as getting the most recent picture of himself that he could find that he had scribbled his eyes out with, setting up the eight-candle circle formation and placing the picture in the middle. After quickly lighting them all up, Dipper stepped back with his mask being kept on and he began to read from the book using his flashlight.

“Triangulum, Entangulum. Meteforis Dominus Ventium. Meteforis Venetisarium!” He spoke, looking down at the circle with anticipation. From the little holes of the mask, Dipper’s eyes began to light up as he began to speak seemingly gibberish as a triangle began to appear inside of the circle. Once the light inside of the brunette’s eyes had subsided, he looked over in front of him to see the triangle, the myth, the legend… He had to gulp in the nervousness that coursed through his veins.

“Well well well well well well well! What do we have here?” Bill asked, looking around and quickly realising where they were. Dipper kept silent as he watched the other look around before finally having his eye land on the brunette himself. “Well… I was expecting you the least Pinetree after what happened last time,” Bill spoke loudly, laughing to himself in the way that always made Dipper’s skin crawl in hatred before. Things hadn’t changed.

“Yeah well, when you have to be called as my last option, things are getting pretty dire,” he snapped, looking for pure hatred, although Bill wouldn’t have been able to see it past the mask. “Yeah yeah, how long has it been Pinetree? You’ve had quite the growth spurt since I last saw ya! And where’s Shooting Star? Surely she would be here! Unless… She doesn’t know what’s going on,” Bill guessed. Dipper decided to just ignore the demon’s attempt at angering or making him uncomfortable, so he decided to answer his first question.

“It’s been about eleven years since you were last here,” he sourly replied, crossing his arms as he watched the demon. “So, what do you want Pinetree? For a price of course,” Bill replied, his voice as high pitched as it always had been, scratching just the one itch that Dipper hated to be itched. “Well… I need you to fix something,” he awkwardly began, putting a hand on the back of his neck as he moved positions to one of discomfort.

“Whatcha want fixing? Is it a body part? Is it something you got in that bag? A relationship?” Bill suggested, trying to probe and prompt the other. Dipper sighed and kept his head away from the other. “I think it would just be easier if I just showed you,” he murmured, keeping his voice low. The demon put a hand out to tell the brunette he was ready, and with heavy hesitation, Dipper took his mask off.

What Bill had been expecting… Well, it was nothing like this. As the mask dropped, blood cascaded out, landing on the floor in front, almost landing on the other’s smart shoes. As the other looked up to see the damage, he almost felt a little shocked himself. It wasn’t a simple cut or two, no, it was something much worse. There was no skin where his face should be, the only bits left that could be represented as skin were limply hanging at the sides of his face, near to his cheekbones, where you could see a bit of bone peeking out.

With the skin torn off, his entire face was continuously bleeding, making it look like the other was crying non-stop, only the tears were blood and they weren’t just coming from the eyes. One of the brunette’s eyes was blind too, Bill noticed, as he got a little closer to examine his face. As he examined further, he could see that there was still a slash mark beginning from Dipper’s left eye, the blind one, to his bottom right chin and then even further down, although that wasn’t too visible due to the black suit that the other was wearing.

There were no lips, nor were there any cheeks. All you could see was Dipper’s teeth, half of a tongue and more bits of his skull. Bill couldn’t even pinpoint what could’ve done this in the forest. Bill moved back a little to give the other some space as he slowly watched the other. The demon got the distinct feeling that Dipper hadn’t told a soul about his face, or what had happened. Why else would he be here alone in the dark?

“How did you manage to keep that a secret?” Bill blurted, instead of the fairly obvious ‘How are you still alive being a mortal flesh bag?’. Dipper turned and took the mask back off the floor, and the demon watched closely as the small bits of flesh that were still hanging on by a thread moved fluidly with each movement the other took.

“I’ve been using this mask, I kept putting tissues and gauzes there to try and lessen the damage, but that ended up just making it worse,” Dipper explained, showing the mask insides. It looked as though it had been painted a light shade of red, but Bill knew it was stained instead of painted. The entire show had taken Bill off-guard, and he’d completely forgotten that he wasn’t here to just examine the other’s blatant wound.

“So erm…. Do you think you’d be able to fix it?” Dipper meekly asked. He would’ve looked cute if it wasn’t for his face being torn apart. Bill thought to himself for a moment as he watched the other. He could do his thing and purposefully screw Dipper over… Or he could put his revenge plan into motion… Suddenly, it had been decided. Bill got closer to the male before talking, wanting to see every emotion that was visible in… the mess of a face the other held.

“Well, that depends, what do you have to offer?” Bill asked, giving the other a grating laugh as he stayed close to the brunette. If it was possible to show disgust, Dipper was pulling that face. He hadn’t brought anything. He had been hoping that Bill would do something like curse him to get payback whilst also sorting out his face. Not this.

As Dipper reflected on his idiotic hopes, however, he realised where he had misplaced his hope. After the last time with his body, he should have known that the other wouldn’t have been that nice. “I can get you something from Ford’s lab,” Dipper offered, feeling hesitant about the proposition. In reality, Dipper was ready to give anything away to fix his face. No one had known he’d had it torn off, and he felt desperate to fix it before they got suspicious.

“Mighty offer to me Pinetree, but I was talking something better than that,” Bill murmured, chuckling shortly after. What could he possibly want that was better than Ford’s inventions? Some of those things could seriously damage a creature. Sighing, Dipper kept his eyes away from the demon as he briefly thought of what could be better, only for his mind to come up with nothing.

“Well…” Dipper awkwardly began, turning back to the demon. “What do you want if it’s not Ford’s things?” he questioned, his voice heavily hinting at his exasperation. Bill hummed momentarily and circled Dipper as he did so. This was very unnecessary as the demon already knew what he wanted, this was more for dramatic effect because, of course, Bill would do that.

“Make me a body and I’ll fix your face. It has to be tonight because I don’t see how you can last much longer Pinetree, and I’ll help you to make sure you aren’t giving me a worthless piece of meat,” Bill spoke, watching the other with his singular eye. Even though the triangle could not smirk due to his lack of features, it was clear that he sounded very smug about his side of the offer. He also knew under these circumstances that it was highly unlikely for the other to turn him down.

The demon was right on both accounts. Dipper had been surviving off of some drugs he’d found in Ford’s basement, some extra blood packs he’d pushed into his body and trying to fix his face (although that’d only made it worse and caused his life expectancy to go down by a couple of days). The other thing the demon was right about was that Dipper would take this offer because it was the only option he had.

Not telling anyone about the situation and knowing that no doctor would probably be able to fix his face and make sure he didn’t die at the same time meant that he had been efficiently backed into Bill’s corner. Not that this wasn’t already the case before he summoned Bill. Dipper cleared his throat as his mind swirled with possible questions to ask the other. If this was physically possible in any way, then he’d have to do it.

“I need to have some clarifications first,” Dipper mumbled, subconsciously playing with his hands as he spoke. As he partially looked down on himself, the blood from his face began dripping onto his black suit. Some of it also went onto his hands, making the anxious movement a little slippery as he continued to awkwardly play with his hands.

“Please do go on Pinetree,” Bill offered.

“First, will you temporarily fix my face to do the job easier of making the body?” He questioned, moving his hand to touch his face. He stopped just before he touched it, however, thankfully avoiding any infections he might receive from mixing opened flesh with all of the bacteria he held on his hands. “Of course, don’t want you bleeding all over my body, do we?” Bill let out his grating laugh as he finished his sentence, obviously finding this extremely funny.

“Okay then… How are we going to make this body?” He uneasily replied. Watching the triangular being get momentarily confused. “What d’you mean Pinetree? How do you flesh bags usually make another version of yourselves?” Bill asked, his eye frowning a little. Oh. Oh. He didn’t know. Of course, he wouldn’t know… He had been partners with Ford and the male had never been and never would be interested in having children of his own.

“W-well… I’m not sure you want to be in a baby Bill, I thought you wanted an adult body,” the other blurted, feeling embarrassed. As the other felt quite uncomfortably red-faced, some bloody genuinely came to where his cheeks should have been. But as there was no skin there to keep it from going everywhere, the extra blood being pumped to flush his cheeks only pushed out of his body and onto the grass in front of him. The only reaction this caused out of the demon was a cackle at the other’s misfortune. Dipper felt ready to put the mask back on.

Once the demon had calmed down from laughing at the other, moved a little to hover next to the brunette. “I suppose you’re right… Well, I’ll show you what to do then! I’m sure I’ll be able to use my magic to make a good human body,” Bill thoughtfully replied, putting a hand just underneath his eye as though it were a chin for the human body. Dipper kept his eyes away from the other for a moment as he quickly tried to get his blood off of his hands. Once he’d successfully gotten the majority of it off, he turned back over to the demon who’d been watching him closely.

“Deal then?” Dipper asked, watching the demon with his eyes, even if only one was currently working. “Deal,” Bill replied in his smug, grating voice. The demon put a hand out, it glowing in the blue flames the brunette remembered from their last deal from back when he was twelve. He moved and grabbed the other’s hand, shaking it properly. Then it was as though everything happened at once.

He felt a prickling begin in the hand that was shaking the demon’s and then all of a sudden, the prickling moved from his hand up into his face. The feeling caused the brunette to let go of Bill’s hand and take a step back. Everything got momentarily blurry from all sides. His nerves were buzzing, his screen was re-creating itself, and he felt a wave of energy hit him as his blood finally stopped leaving his body. He let out a small shiver once everything had begun to die down.

Blearily, Dipper moved hastily towards his bag which he’d left on the floor to try and grab the mirror he’d brought. He was walking like a man who’d drank way too much, but he didn’t care, he needed to look at what Bill had done, just in case it was wrong. Once he’d shoved his hand down into the bag, he quickly found what he’d been looking for and awkwardly got up, moving it in front of himself. As he began to stare at himself, he heard Bill chuckle to his side.

Everything was how it had been before, except for one detail. He was still blind in one eye. Even worse than that though, Bill had left a scar around the eye. The creature that had gotten him had three claws and those three had sunk into his face fairly quickly yesterday, but now one of those claws was showing on his face. It gave more the impression that he’d gotten into a swordfight than one with a creature three times his size.

Dipper turned to the demon with raised brows. “Will you get rid of this when I make your body,” he questioned, touching it lightly as he put the mirror back into his bag. Bill only shrugged, not giving a clear answer. The brunette put his hand on his face and sighed. Well, at least he’d live like this. “Right erm… Where do we start?” The human awkwardly asked, watching the demon carefully.

From there, the rest of Halloween became a blur. It was first a gathering of objects, a gathering that led to the death of two deers, visiting a graveyard, and the statue of Bill that had been left behind shortly after Weirdmageddon. There had been other objects, but those had been the most difficult to find and execute. After grabbing everything that was needed, it needed to be placed in a specific place around the small outline of a rather lanky male Bill had made in the mud just in front of his statue.

This had ended up taking another hour of messing around with the objects, as Bill had been rather specific about what had to be where. After all of that, Bill had told him to go back home and rest up, as he’d come over tomorrow. Dipper had questioned the other’s method, but Bill had given affirmation that Bill just needed some time to conjure the magic and work out all the kinks of the human body before they saw one another. Shrugging, the brunette left, knowing the quicker way back to the Mystery Shack from Bill’s Statue.

He put his mask back on due to the scar on his face and shuffled back inside, trying to be as quiet as he could getting back into his bedroom. Thankfully, everyone had either been asleep or in the basement, so no one had heard his reappearance. He had managed to even get comfortably in bed and asleep without issue, despite the events that had occurred earlier that very day. What did end up bothering him though, was when Mabel crashed into his room first thing in the morning after him not appearing back home before she had.

“Dipper? Dip-Dop?” Mabel shouted, running into the room and to the bed. The male could only groan out in exasperation at her loud behaviour. He covered his face due to the light, not even thinking about the scar that was still very much present across his eye. “Where did you go last night? I went looking out for you for a whole hour! Grunkle Stan and Ford said they hadn’t seen you since you left!” Mabel complained, shaking her brother in an attempt to wake him up further.

“Mabel, leave me alone,” he groaned, curling up a little bit. He moved a little, letting his arm fall limp and suddenly there was a loud gasp from his sister. That, was when he bolted up and stared at her, suddenly realising the situation. “Y-you’ve got a—!” Dipper crashed his hand onto her mouth to muffle her words, he didn’t want her to say it. Not right now.

“Shhh, Mabel please, don’t tell them about it!” He whispered to her, although it sounded a lot more as if he were talking normally than whispering to her. Dipper quickly moved his hand away from her mouth and she stared at him, genuinely shocked by the scar on her brother’s face. “But… You’re blind in that eye! What happened Dipper? When did that happen?” She asked, grabbing her brother’s arms and shaking him in a fast and seemingly uncomfortable manner.

Suddenly, there was a loud shout from Stan downstairs about someone being at the door for Dipper and the brunette’s blood ran cold. Mabel stared at him for a long moment and then they were both scrambling to get downstairs the fastest. The female brunette wanted to get there to see who was calling for him so early, and if it was a date, and Dipper wanted to make sure that Mabel and Bill didn’t see each other.

Unfortunately due to the situation of the male brunette still being in bed and Mabel not, it meant that she got to the door first and the blonde almost mistook her for Dipper at first glance. Mabel looked the blonde up and down briefly before stepping back, unintentionally allowing Dipper to step in front and slam the door behind him. He was sure if he and Bill didn’t move now, Mabel would surely try and rejoin the conversation.

The brunette turned to look at the man in front of him for his jaw to drop. Instead of a weird nerd or awkward man like he’d been expecting, or even the demonic version of a human with horns and sharp teeth that gave people nightmares, Bill looked like a beautiful angel. His blonde hair was fluffy to the point that even Dipper wanted to put his hands in it, then there was the beautifully tanned skin and the wonderfully blue eye that reminded him of the sea… Then it was the slightly filled lips, they weren’t too big, but they were plump enough to make Dipper shiver.

Bill had also dressed nicely as well, but that had always been expected, more because the demon always wore a bowtie. It had always given the impression that he’d wear a suit or something similar if he ever were to become a human. The other had also covered one of his eyes with an eyepatch that reminded him of a pirate, but he supposed there were not many ways to not look like a pirate with an eyepatch on your face. Far away, there was the noise of a door opening and the murmur of noises next to him, but Dipper wasn’t listening, from the sight in front of him… Well, there was nothing else to think about.

That was, of course, until Mabel pushed him out of the trance he’d fallen in. “Dipper!” He heard her cry as he regained his stability. Warily, he looked over to his sister, who looked… Excited? Why on earth was she so excited? “I’m sure he’s just a bit surprised since we last saw each other in the dark,” Bill replied, a small chuckle leaving him. The brunette had to stop a small shiver from going through his spine. That voice was not Bill’s. That voice wasn’t unnaturally high-pitched or grating when it laughed. It reminded Dipper of soft and smooth honey, the type you get new from a store.

“Y…Yeah,” Dipper muttered, turning to look at Bill briefly again. Bill smirked something that he expected to see often if Bill was planning on staying around. “What’s your name anyway?” Mabel asked, glancing between the two with a smirk of her own. She could easily read Dipper like a book, hence she knew exactly why he wasn’t talking very much.

Bill eyed Dipper momentarily as if he were trying to figure out whether he should fake his name or not, but when he realised the brunette was intentionally ignoring him, he turned back to Mabel with a naturally fake smile. “Bill! Nice to meet you…?” The demon replied, raising the only brow that could be seen. “Mabel Pines! I’m Dip-dop’s twin sister,” she said with pride. Bill nodded a little and put out his hand for her to shake.

The immediate realisation that they were going to shake hands immediately brought him back to the night before with his face and very quickly he could feel the blood drain from his face. He felt conflicted as he stared at the singular hand. Should he try to stop it just in case? Unfortunately, though, Mabel was a bit too quick for Dipper to have an existential crisis about the entire thing, as she shook his hand without any hesitation.

There were not any blue flames, but the brunette could’ve sworn that Bill had done something.

“You don’t know any movies?” Bill whined, sitting on the couch in a jumper that reminded Dipper greatly of his triangular form from years ago. Bringing a coffee and orange juice to the table, the brunette shook his head and sat down, giving the demon his orange juice. “But you looked so good! If these movies are supposed to be scary, then why don’t they have any with people’s faces chopped off?” Bill asked unhappily as he went through the selection they had on Netflix.

“Look, why don’t we find something new to watch as a TV show?” Dipper asked, holding his coffee cup for warmth. Bill let out a low hum as he began to go through the TV show section, specifically listing all the horror TV shows. “Look, why don’t we play a game instead of watching something?” Dipper asked, glancing warily over to the demon. He only let out a soft chuckle at the other’s hesitance in watching something to do with Horror.

They then stopped on what appeared to be a show about Cannibals, with the show conveniently being named ‘Hannibal’. That was right up Bill’s alley for their Halloween evening. Dipper was never letting the demon be in control of the remote ever again. The demon was quick to put it on and get settled down, drinking his orange juice from time to time.

When they began it was early during the day and it was still light out, but as it got later and later, darker and darker, Dipper began to feel more disgusted and on edge the further this went on. It had gotten to a point where he was trying not to listen about it either since it just made him feel that sick. There was a certain time during season two that Dipper decided he’d try to listen and watch the show again, but it was possibly one of the worst times he could’ve begun watching once more.

He saw someone begin to chop off their nose and suddenly his stomach turned upside down. He quickly faced away, moving to stare at the wall behind Bill’s head instead, but that was the wrong option because moments later, there was a loud bang against their window in real life. Dipper screamed and fell off the couch, landing on the floor back first. If Bill hadn’t felt a little shocked himself, he would’ve laughed loudly at his roommate’s misfortune, but the only thing that left the demon was a small chuckle instead.

Bill himself quickly got up from the couch and paused the show, walking to the front door rather quickly. Without hesitation, the other opened the door and began to look around for what could have caused such a loud noise against their window but not break the window. Dipper quickly got up and sat down, clearing his throat as he settled down and ignoring looking at the TV.

The next thing Dipper knew however was Bill bringing in a little cat from outside. Instantly, Dipper furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. The demon looked over briefly to Dipper before looking back down to the cat and sitting down with said cat on his lap. It had barely past the age of one by the looks of things with its small body. Yet, both men could tell it desperately needed a proper wash as its hair was matted and covered with mud.

“Is that..?” Dipper questioned, keeping his voice low. Bill nodded, confirming this was what crashed into their window while watching the TV show. Dipper huffed a little as the small cat found its way onto his lap and dirtying his legs, for he only had shorts on that didn’t go far down his legs. “Seems it likes you,” Bill murmured, seeming rather genuine with his comment. Dipper only hummed in response, unsure of what to do with the little furball. Should they clean it first? Take it to the vet? Give it food and water? It seemed rather content to stay on the male’s legs.

“What are we going to do with it?” Dipper asked instead, patting the cat’s head softly. Bill hummed momentarily before getting up again and leaving Dipper with the cat. The brunette let out a small sigh, but he knew the other was probably just trying to get something to help do something with the cat. About a minute later, he was proven right as he sat Bill entered their living room with a big towel. Very quickly, he scooped up the cat in his arms and the towel and started to gently scrub and carry the small creature, getting rid of any loose mud that he could.

“Thank you,” Dipper murmured, looking at the two. Bill shrugged.

“It’s nothing Pinetree, I was thinking we bathe the cat to see if it has anything bad on it before we do anything you humans would deem drastic,” Bill spoke, rolling his eyes at the way he knew humans reacted over the little things. The brunette would have been offended if it weren’t for the fact he knew the demon was quite right. Mabel started overreacting if someone hurt her nails, and he knew that he got quite uptight with his book collection if someone tried taking a book.

“Alright then, let’s get the bath running,” Dipper announced and began walking away from the living room, relieved that they could stop watching that god-awful show. From a room or two away as Dipper turned the taps on for the water, he could swear that Bill was babying the cat and giving it his high-pitched ‘this is a cute thing’ voice. The brunette merely shook his head and made sure the small bath was hot enough for the small cat before turning the water back off.

Once Bill heard the tap turn off, he brought the small one in and gently put it inside the water. Very quickly it began to meow and shake in the small tub. Dipper, who was closest and sat down next to the bath, began to try and bathe the small kitten, but the smaller only took this as a threat and bit Dipper to the best of its abilities. Dipper swore and tried to retract his hand, but the little cat only clung onto the brunette and grabbed onto his face when it lost perch of his hand.

A slight swearing suddenly turned into screaming as he felt a claw inside of his already damaged eye and then the feeling of some skin being torn off of his face. Very very quickly, Bill yanked the cat off of Dipper, but it was only a detriment as the cat somehow managed to yank Dipper’s eye out of where it should have been whilst it let go of the rest of Dipper’s face.

Almost immediately after the cat had been taken off of the brunette’s face though, Bill got to work with his magic and replaced said eye, although he did leave it blind. The horrifying pain that he had felt merely moments ago that had been bad enough to push Dipper into shock was suddenly gone. That in of itself made Dipper feel dizzy off of a mixture of emotions. His entire body felt tingly, reminiscent of the time that the demon had originally fixed his face.

“Pinetree, you okay?” Bill asked, filling the brunette’s limited vision. Not that Bill didn’t have limited vision either, he had just never experienced having two eyes before, so it wasn’t a pain to him. “I’ll be fine after I calm down with some coffee,” Dipper mumbled, putting a hand over his blind eye. The demon took a step or two away to assess the damage across the room. There was blood everywhere, mixed with little bits of skin that the small cat had been playing with whilst the entire scene had been going on, it looked like someone had been seriously hurt in here.

Sighing, Bill tried to ignore the sight for now and helped the brunette get up. “Let’s get you to bed, then I’ll finish sorting out that cat,” Bill murmured, watching the other closely. Dipper merely hummed and looked down to assess the damage himself before looking over to the small cat. It was playing with Dipper’s eye.

The brunette choked on air and Bill quickly changed the direction the other was facing and got him out of there quickly. That might have been a bit too much gore for someone tonight.

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