#lemme know if I could draw em better

[rascal-rose]

Hi 👋! I just wanted to ask since I’ve been going through you blog recently (I love your art style btw ❤️) and I wanted to ask, would you ever think of giving gender-swap Peppino stretch marks?

Of course if you wouldn’t want to that’s completely fine, I love the way you draw her already. She’s adorable! 😊😊

P.S. Have a nice day/night and thank you for making such wonderful art. You really brighten my day 💝☺️🫶

I actually gave it an attempt in the doodle of her doing the rose taunt but realized it was way too light, coulda been drawn better so here ya go, a beach babe

thank you very much for the kind words! hope you have an excellent day/night <3

[anisespice]

“ hate your boyfriend ” || tokyo rev. pt. 2

one

synopsis: " you can pick me or your little boy. "

pairing: college!toman x gn!reader

warnings: mature language, sexual themes, MDI. toxic!toman, cheater!reader (pumpkin eater!!), enabling behavior, mild violence, vague descriptions of sex (cause i’m lazy), vulgar language, corny marvel joke, dirty-talk, moral compass is a roulette wheel in this one lol and i think that’s it :P 

notes: did a little continuation of the first one before doing more characters lol i’m happy you guys liked the concept, lemme know who you’d like to see next :))) i don’t hate this one, but i don’t love it either (except maybe mikey’s) buuuut hope yall enjoy! <333

tagged: @fantasycantasy , @spacegirl05​

A week had passed since the whole kick-back fiasco, and MIKEY had gone awol. Aki was over the moon about it, for obvious reasons; as far as he was concerned, he scared him off. Besides, the less you hung around the delinquent, the better for both of you.

“That guy’s just a nuisance, babe. Good riddance.”

Little did he know, this was a regular occurrence. Mikey always did this—Disappeared for days on end, only to pop right back up like he never left. Whether it be due to gang related issues, or because he felt like it, this frustrating habit was one of the reasons you invited him that night, despite knowing he’d pick a fight with Aki. You had missed him…in more ways than one. You knew it was only a matter of time before he came back to you.

And in the wee hours of the night, not far after said boyfriend left your place, you received a lone message from the former blonde himself.

from : bad influence ♡ 11:03pm     “ omw. ”

Short, but effective. His timing was impeccable, how he always managed to text the second you were alone was beyond you, but it made your heart race all the same. It was wrong, you knew that, Aki deserved better than someone who snuck around. You didn’t mean for it to get this far, but that was a guilt you’d deal with later. Mikey was your drug of choice, and tonight you craved another fix.

to : bad influence ♡ 11:07pm       “ okay. but just for a little while. ”

Even if you tried to play coy, to salvage whatever weak moral you had left, it didn’t matter—The only one you were fooling tonight was Aki.

from : bad influence ♡ 11:08pm      “ mhm. sure, angel. ”

It was a wonder how you didn’t draw blood with how harshly you clawed at his shoulders, fighting between wanting him closer or wanting to push him away. Mikey didn’t mind, though. On the contrary, he encouraged you to leave marks. As tempted as he was to leave his own, he figured beating up your insides would suffice.

Knowing you’ll struggle to walk tomorrow was all the reward he needed.

“God—fuuck,” he slurred, after a particularly hard thrust made you arch off the bed, forcing him to sink deeper. He gazed down at you with an all too pleased grin as you begged him for more. How could he deny you when you sounded so desperate? “Taking me so well, angel…always so good f’me…”

“J-Jiro..! Ahplease!” You sobbed, your knees practically knocking upside your temples as he increased momentum. Mikey snickered, angling his hips to continue ramming the spot that made your eyes cross, moans reaching octaves you didn’t even know you could hit.

“Mm, been feening for this dick, huh? Yeah? Maybe we should call up that smug bastard, let ‘em see how such good friends we are, right [______]? Bet he was real proud thinkin’ he got me to fuck off…but we both know who you really belong to. Don’t we?”

He wasn’t sorry. That’s the short end of it.

The moment Takeru decided to act all big and bad, breaking stuff in a place where he paid no bills, it was in DRAKEN’s right to set him straight; mama may not have raised him, but he still ain’t no bitch.

It took some coaxing on your end, but you were able to reel Draken back from turning your boyfriend inside out. But, after he forced him to pick up every broken piece of the lamp, he told Takeru to choose a number between one and ten.

“…Why?” Was his response. Draken raised a brow.

“That’s how many shards I’m gonna shove up your nose.”

“Ken!”

The look on the shorter male’s face was worth it, earning a threatening smirk from the mechanic as he slapped a heavy hand on his shoulder. “Ahh, y’look like you were about to shit yourself, man! Nah, I’m not gonna hurt you.”

For a moment, there’s relief in your boyfriend’s eyes. It was short-lived, of course. Especially once Draken’s grip tightened around his shoulder. “But I will. Don’t ever let me catch you pop off on [_____] like that again. Would hate for you to have to pick yourself up off the floor next time. You feel me?”

With a gulp, he gave a shaky nod; now he really looked like he shat himself. “Y-Yes…”

“Hah? Yes, what?”

“Y-Yes, Draken, sir?”

He rewarded the poor sucker’s obedience with a couple taps to the cheek just to spite him before sending him on his way. It was met with little protest, Takeru scurrying out of the room with lamp pieces still in his palms, not even sparing you a passing glance. 

“Text you later?” You called at his retreating form. When all you got was the sound of your front door slamming shut in response, you swiftly turned on your heel to aim a dejected frown at your other houseguest. Draken sardonically pouted back at you, reaching over to pinch your cheek until you swatted his hand away. “Why’d you do that, you totally freaked him out!” 

He wasn’t sorry. Draken shrugged. “Good.” 

Merely rolling your eyes, you headed for the small broom and dustpan in your closet to gather what little pieces Takeru left behind–Might as well busy yourself to delay addressing the elephant still in the room. Unfortunately, said elephant wasn’t about to let that happen. Before you could even think of sweeping anything, Draken gently grabbed your elbow, those same eyes that stared death into your boyfriend’s soul now filled with something else as they appraised you, melting through whatever cold exterior you tried to aim at him.

He leaned down closer, sporting a slanted grin that sent signals straight down to your core. Sometimes, you despised how easily he made your insides flutter by just existing.

“How much longer y’gonna entertain that fucking loser, huh? He wouldn’t know the first thing about handling someone like you.”

You hummed, fighting the giddy tremble in your body at the challenging air that surrounded you both. With the inkling of boldness you had, you took the bait. “What, like you would?”

He wasn’t sorry; you’d be though.

The way Draken split you in half would make Lucifer himself bite the pillow. Hovering over his gigantic frame, chest bare with your hands perched on each pec, he manhandled you to take every unforgiving inch of his dick, having you feeling downright discombobulated as your hips struggled to keep momentum.

Forget about seeing stars, at some point, you were certain you saw into the quantum realm; say hi to Ant-Man for me.

“K-Kenny...I can’t...t’s too much!” 

He cooed up at you, though there wasn’t an ounce of sympathy in his tone. If anything, Draken enjoyed himself thoroughly, tongue-in-cheek as he watched you fall apart in his lap, just like he knew you would. With the way you tightened up around him like a vice, as if your own body was against the thought of him stopping, the former blonde chuckled breathlessly.

“Use the safe word then, doll.”

You glared down at him, to the best of your ability. With him practically jabbing you in the lung, it was more than difficult to say the rebuttal as smartly as you wanted to. “Y-you think…you’re so-oh! So f-funny…”

He did. Absolutely he did. By making your boyfriend’s name the safe word, nothing would soften his dick quicker. Plus, he knew you didn’t need it; just like you didn’t need Takeru.

“What? It’d be the only way you’d ever scream it anyways.”

“Welcome back.”

You paused mid-step upon entering your apartment, not expecting the ravenette to still be there. With a deep exhale, you paid him no mind as you kicked off your shoes, irritated after a tiresome process of checking your boyfriend into the hospital.

To say BAJI did a number on him would be an understatement…Man’s fucked him up. Sure, maybe Makoto could’ve watched his tone when talking to someone with such a short fuse, but Baji could’ve at least exercised a little restraint.

…Oh, who were you kidding? It’s Baji.

“What, ya not talkin’ to me?” Barely sparing him a glance, you set your bag on the coffee table before heading for the bedroom for a much-needed shower. Baji didn’t take kindly to being ignored. He huffed, standing to meet you halfway as he trailed behind you. Even when you attempted to close the door in his face, he shouldered his way in anyway; it was gonna take more than that to deter him.

“Quit being mad…said I was sorry, damn.”

“No you didn’t,” you replied, incredulously. You really tried it with the silent treatment, but knowing him, it was only a matter of seconds before he'd get you talking again. Taking off the sweats you threw on in haste earlier, you continued. “You said, and I quote, ‘Talk shit, get hit,’ then fell asleep on the couch while I had to haul Makoto to the emergency room!”

Baji shuffled his feet, “…Well, I meant to say it. Jus' forgot.”

You scoffed, walking into your bathroom. "What are you even still doing here? Don't you have someone else's day to shit on?”

“Y’kicking me out now?” He teased, raising a brow. What he didn't expect was for you to start throwing your toiletries at him. Although his reflexes saved him for the most part, Baji still got hit a few times as he attempted to dodge between a shampoo bottle and mouthwash. "Whoa! Hey-!"

“Maybe I should! Do you have any idea how hard it was to get him in and out of my car with all that dead weight, let alone into the building? Not to mention, his emergency contacts were his uppity-ass parents, so after they chewed me out, I had to lie and say he saved me from getting mugged.”

“...They buy it?”

You tilted your head, exasperated. "Wow. And here I thought the next thing out of your mouth would be that apology you 'forgot' to say earlier…[Sigh] Whatever. You just better hope when Makoto wakes up he doesn't remember anything, or else we're both in deep shit."

“Tsk. The fuck’s he gonna do?”

“He could literally sue us.” You deadpanned.

“He’s a pussy, he wouldn’t be stupid enough to try me again. And if he gives you any shit for it, you let me know. I’ll take care of it.”

“Oh, you mean like how you did today? Pass.”

He groaned, “I said sorry!”

“No you didn’t! And still haven’t!”

At the moment, it felt like the conversation would just continue in circles. With Baji stubbornly claiming he was in the right, and you combating his warped logic with colorful language and more stuff thrown at him, it's a wonder how things ended up here–With your face pressed against the cold shower wall as he gave you his fucking apology.

Over, and over, and over again.

While one hand wrapped around the column of your throat, fingers shoved knuckle-deep into your mouth to pacify the excessive whines tumbling out, the other made use of gripping the meat of your thigh, giving you no chance of running from the punishing thwap of his hips ramming against your wet ass-cheeks. The water cascading over your bodies had long turned cold as Baji chased after orgasm number five, his muscles ached from the strain, but he'd be damned to stop until he was certain all was forgiven.

Even if it meant missing every single one of Makoto's phone calls.

“God, I am so, so sorry, Takashi. Can’t believe he just…I-I’ve never seen him act like that before. Does it hurt?”

MITSUYA, despite the sting in his split lip, gave you an easy grin. “Nah, y’know I’ve been through worse. Fucker hits like one of my younger sisters.”

You had brought him back to your place to ice the bruise forming on his jaw, still frazzled over what occurred in the last half hour. Back at the restaurant, everything seemed fine when you excused yourself to the bathroom, having a blast knowing that your two favorite people were actually getting along. Unbeknownst to you, there was a storm brewing in Hajime. And the second you were out of sight, he used this opportunity to set a record straight with Mitsuya.  

Evidently, he allowed his fists to do the talking. 

You groaned, rubbing down your face in distress. “We’ll probably never get to set foot in that restaurant again...’m so embarrassed.”

“Hey,” he softly reprimanded, “Don’t sweat it, t’s not your fault-”

“I’m the one who begged you to let him come with us in the first place. I mean, I know you two butt heads from time to time, but I didn’t think it’d ever turn that serious. Please, Taka, just tell me what happened.”

Mitsuya shook his head, about to lower the ice pack until you shot him a pointed look. With a small exhale through his nose, he kept it on his jaw while he spoke. “I told you, he was probably pissed he couldn’t get a free meal outta me-”

“Don’t bullshit me, Haji wouldn’t explode like that over a fucking chicken sandwich.” You huffed, frustrated at his evasive behavior. He was holding back information on purpose, you were certain. Ever since the fitting, he'd been acting weird all evening. And that fight only solidified your suspicions. “Just tell me what started it!” 

"Doesn’t matter."

"Taka-"

"Let it go, [______]." He laid back on your couch and made himself comfortable, even so much as turning on your tv to fill over the dead conversation. Mitsuya trained his eyes on the lit-up screen, still icing his jaw as he subtly avoided eye contact.

You could just scream.

Childishly, you snatched the remote from his hand and switched it back off. The lavender haired threw his head back in defeat, the hand holding the ice pack slowly coming down as Mitsuya eyed you from his peripheral; so stubborn.

“Be honest. It was about me again, wasn’t it?” His silence spoke volumes. “So it was then. Ugh, okay listen, I get that you’re both really protective of me, I do, but that doesn’t excuse-”

“I’m in love with you.”

You choked. Though, only on your words.

With that now hanging up in the air, you gaped like a damn goldfish, the remote slipping out your grasp and clambering to the floor with a clack. Mitsuya exhaled; no turning back now. “You…huh?”

“Yep. Have been for a while, actually.” He placed his arms behind the couch, wry smirk on his face. “Planned to tell you over dinner tonight, but that backfired fast, no thanks to that walking steroid you call a boyfriend.”

“Y-…You’re messing with me. Right?” The designer offered a humorless laugh, gesturing to his split lip and bruised jaw.

“Didn’t get hit for saying what a great pal you were, [______].”

Now it was your turn to be silent. A lump began to form in your throat, overwhelmed with the newfound information, borderline confession.

“So then…what did you say to Haji to make him so angry?”

For a split second, you saw a glint within his pools of amethyst as they slowly rendered to a deep violet. Staring at you from beneath his pretty lashes, Mitsuya resembled that of a starved animal on the verge of cornering its prey, causing a sudden warmth to envelop you as you squirmed under his heady gaze.

Sitting up a little, he merely beckoned you to his empty lap. You blinked widely at him, sputtering as you tried to protest the idea. But, what he said next played into your curiosity.

“C’mere, and I’ll show you.”

You blinked at him, uncertain; he made no move to rush you. If you were against the idea, you were more than welcome to decline and tell him to shove it. However, when you eventually crawled into the awaiting throne, settling all your weight on top of him to the point he couldn’t keep from groaning shamelessly, Mitsuya was fucking elated.

You gripped his shirt at the shoulders, sporting that signature pout you’d do whenever you wanted something from him—The designer was more than ready to give it to you. All you had to do was say so.

“Hajime’s gonna kill you if he finds out, though. Don’t want you getting hurt again because of me…”

Mitsuya chuckled, hands slowly rubbing up your thighs until they settled on your hips. “Don’t worry about it, sweet thing. He may have gotten two hits on me today, but all I need is one tomorrow.”

© 2023-2024 anisespice ッ all rights reserved.   likes, comments & reblogs much appreciated!

[thegamingcatmom]

I need to know your thoughts on Werewolf MC!

That's literally all the ask is, and because I had a moment where I seen Kate, sunglasses on and a leash with MC in her werewolf form with a collar on LMAO. I'm talking a huge 7 foot werewolf mc with a collar on and Kate smug

-💙

Hi frosty! 💙

This actually reminds me of those drawings of the Dimitrescus with a werewolf!MC. I love em. 🐺🫶

Is that what´s inspired this ask? Or did it just randomly come to mind? Asking cause I´m genuinely curious! :3

RIGHT SO-

I fucking love that idea. Especially with Kate parading MC around like "uhu, that´s right, look right here and take note of how awesome we are cause that ain´t something you wanna mess with". Totally smt I could see happening, LMAO.

Are we talking actual werewolf aka "children of the moon"? As in:

Or are we talking Twilight "werewolf" (shapeshifters, actually - still not over the fact they decided to just bulldoze over that tidbit of information in the movies, esp. BD Part 2 😤), as in:

I mean, both are fire. So I´m down with either. 🔥🤘

Oh man, the POSSIBILITIES. Also, let´s not forget MC would probs be a lot more durable and not as easy to break. Would be quite the relief for the sisters, for sure. 😅

But, THE POSSIBILITIES- 😭

Listen, MC would probs turn into her furry form solely for them belly rubs and head scratches. Yknow, totally taking advantage of the fact she´s got 3 beautiful ladies going "Awww" and "You´re just the cutest, aren´t you? Yessss you are" over her. 😭

...I mean, that´s their reaction regardless of the form MC takes, but it just hits differently when she´s not human. 🐺🥹

Okay listen-

Tanya Denali:

once she´s seen MC with a colar on, you can bet your ass it stays on

...regardless of her form

(new kink unlocked)

she´s always loved doggy style...but this takes things to another level entirely (she has thoughts, lemme tell ya)

quite enjoys the sight of other vampires clapping eyes on her huge ass werewolf!wife for the first time

...she´s proud af, let´s be honest

she´s glowing (and not just because of the sun)

also because MC is mighty

and that makes her feel mighty in return

their coven is strong

(it´s a leader thing...don´t judge her)

Kate Denali:

like you said, she´s smug

immensely so

in just about any situation, really

loves to mount MC like a prized steed

...both literally and figuratively

no, honestly: it´s adorable how much joy she gets out of riding on her (...like an actual horse, get yalls minds out of the gutter)

...she is quite curious about that doggy style though, it has to be said

roleplay (listen...something about treating her wife like an actual pet is just...it´s indescribable)

frequently begs MC to make them feral noises for her

I´m talking growling, snarling, howling-

she´ll join right in (also to see who can do it better)

Irina Denali:

lots of cuddles

and belly rubs

and nose rubs

any kind of rubs, really

loves to curl into MC when she´s sleeping

or laying on top of her

especially when she herself is reading

loves to run her fingers through all that...fluff

can´t get enough of hearing that adorable yipping MC (unintentionally) does when she gets excited

in fact, she finds it so endearing that she regularly asks MC to turn into a wolf

...however, it can´t be denied that she is rather curious about yknow what with her wife in wolf form

These are just some of their individual quirks. There´s lots of things the sisters have in common when it comes to wolfie!wife. Such as:

They love hunting together. There´s something so fascinating about wolfie!wife stalking her prey, nose going crazy when she catches a trace, muscles tensing as she sticks low to the ground, preparing for the ultimate lunge. So wild, yet graceful, and-

.

.

.

Thanks a lot for your ask! 🥰💋

[spacesapphi]

"Moving Forward, Spiraling Downward Chapter 9- Two Sides of the Same Coin"

WOOHOO another long chapter! This was a beast to write and draw for but very fun :) I've been itching to write about our favorite Joja coworkers being friends, and figured they needed to find something to connect over. Their dynamic and friendship is quite underrated imo

CWs for this chapter include mild emetophobia, talks of mental health issues and addiction, and mentions of war

Summary: Months after moving back in, Shane finds himself struggling to connect with just about everyone in town. Having changed so much makes him feel far too different to connect anymore, and it's the loneliest feeling he's known. He'd soon come to find that there's someone in town who understands him, someone he'd never expect.

AO3 Version Here

Tumblr version below the cut!

The Stardrop Saloon was loud, expectedly so for a Friday evening. The jukebox was blasting, folks convening to dine and drink, some spending their night in the rec room. Everyone was being social and cheery, making the best of their evening. Everyone except Shane, that is. He’d claimed the stool sitting between the bar counter and the fireplace, and most nights one could find him moping there, a tankard in hand. Tonight was no exception. Seven drinks in, his head was spinning, thoughts jumbling together into mush. He still felt like shit, there was no doubt, but alcohol at least let him quiet his mind for a moment. It hushed the voices in his head that spat out the most terrible of affronts, beating him while he was already down. 

He sat holding his head in one hand, swaying woozily as he stared down into his now empty tankard. He could see a warped reflection of himself in the glass, cringing as he stared at himself, taking in every detail of his sour expression. Emily flounced over, looking cheerful as ever, resting her hands on the counter in front of her friend, “Can I get you anything else?”

“Yeah…. ‘nother one…” he mumbled, passing the glass over to her with a limp arm. Emily carefully pushed it off to the side and gave him a knowing look, “You wanna try ordering some food? Another one doesn’t sound like a great idea,”

“C’mon Em, it’s my money, lemme get somethin’..”

“And you’re my friend, and I don’t think you need another,” Emily sighed, “You’ve been here every night this week, Shane. Maybe you should go home,”

“If I order some pizza will you drop it?” he grumbled, not particularly enjoying this lecture, “I already hear ‘nuff of this from my aunt,”

Emily nodded, turning to the food counter to get him a plate, “She’s just looking out for you, you know,”

“I know that,” Shane huffed, “But I’m not a child anymore, I can make my own decisions,”

Emily didn’t have anything to say in response, but the two of them silently understood what would’ve come next. Yes, Shane was in charge of his own decisions, but look where they landed him now. As much as he hated the lectures and scoldings from loved ones, he could never deny that they were right. It had been a few months now since he returned to town, the bitter air of Winter rolling in already. Everyone, especially Shane, had hoped to see him get better now that he was back, but that wasn’t exactly the case. There were good days, yes. But for every good day there seemed to be twice as many bad ones. Whenever something went well, Shane was waiting for the other shoe to drop, for things to go to shit again. And they always seemed to for him. As much as he didn’t want to be, he was more miserable than ever. Maybe his mindset was causing it, maybe he was cursed. Shane desperately wanted the cause of his problems to be anything but himself.

Perhaps the cheerful environment of town had something to do with it. Looking around the saloon, Shane could see groups of people laughing and enjoying themselves, going on about their days with little to worry about. Turning his gaze to Emily, he could see her chatting with some tall redheaded man who looked like he jumped straight from the cover of those strange Fabio romance novels he’d seen on his aunt's bookshelf. Emily looked happy, so full of life and vibrance. Not much had changed from when she was younger. She had always been a happy person, someone that brightened up every room she walked into. Shane was once that kind of person, a long, long time ago. But not anymore. He didn’t think he could ever be that person again, either. 

This entire town, its people, even through all the changes over the years it was still all the same. Still the quirky little village hidden in the mountains that had a happy bunch of folks living in it. He felt so out of place amongst them, like a leftover puzzle piece that had no place in the final picture. As much as he yearned to, he couldn’t connect with them the way he wanted to anymore. Emily was nice enough, she always was, but she didn’t understand what he’d been through. Shane felt like he’d lived a thousand lifetimes over the past five years, slogging through every torturous day only barely being able to keep his head above water, only doing so for Jas’ sake. It was an awful circumstance, one he wouldn’t wish on his worst enemy. And though he was surrounded by so many loved ones now, more than ever, he never felt more alone in his life.

The chatter and laughter amongst the patrons made him want to scream. He wanted to throw down his glass, yell and wail about how awful life had been, pulling everyone down with him. It was selfish, he knew, but it just wasn’t fair. Watching so many people have such happy and fulfilling lives while he struggled made him feel so much worse about himself. Why were they allowed to succeed when he wasn’t? Why could they follow their dreams when he had to drop everything? It almost felt like they were mocking him, taking a jab at his life and state. He was a magnet for misery, and it repelled him from all the happiest folks in the room. 

Speak of the devil, doth he appear. Perhaps the happiest person Shane had met in his life had just walked into the saloon, his two best friends in tow. He averted his gaze, hoping if he didn’t see Sam, then Sam wouldn’t see him. It was nothing against the guy… well, maybe it was. Shane, the jaded and standoffish man he was, often grew weary of Sam at work. The guy always seemed to try and strike up a conversation with him, about literally anything that would pop into his mind. Shane just wanted to shut off his brain while he worked, stock shelves, go to the saloon, and then home, no interruptions. He wasn’t interested in conversation or becoming friends with anyone he worked with. He’d just give the occasional nod or grunt of acknowledgement as Sam chatted away, and eventually he’d get the hint and go back to mopping the aisles.

Sam did notice him, but decided to back off for tonight. Every time he saw Shane he seemed to look tired and grumpy, but tonight it seemed worse. He looked like he’d snap at anyone who dared look in his direction, and Sam wasn’t going to be the one to face that. He simply left him alone, striding right into the rec room with Abigail and Sebastian to play pool. 

The three of them were loud, at least to Shane they were. They were younger, and it was to be expected, but when you were drunk and had a throbbing headache, it wasn’t exactly fun to listen to. He tried to focus on the music, or anything else in the main room of the saloon, but his mind kept going back to the trio in that backroom. He couldn’t make out every word they said, picking up bits and pieces about music and some new video game one of them was obsessing over. But mostly, he heard Sam. Shane still couldn’t understand the kid. No one could be that happy, no matter how good their life was… or at least how good he assumed it to be. He didn’t know much about him outside of work, only seeing him speak with his mom and brother in passing, occasionally watching him attempt a kickflip outside his house, or taking his brother to school and the playground. Nothing seemed to be out of the ordinary though, at least in his opinion. Maybe that’s what happened when you had a genuinely good life, no worries that completely engulfed every waking moment of your life. Damn, was he jealous.

Peeking his head back just for a moment, he watched the three of them lounging back there, chattering away as they played probably the worst game of pool he’d ever seen. They were awful at it to be sure, but obviously were having too much fun to mind. They looked so carefree, so happy. They reminded him so much of-

He refused to entertain the thought. It was the last thing he needed right now. But now that it was in his mind, it wouldn’t leave. Everytime he heard their voices, all he could hear was him and his friends, the way they used to joke and speak to each other. He covered his ears with his hands,digging his nails so hard into the side of his head he was sure he’d break skin. He could only take it for a few moments longer before sliding off his stool, stumbling towards the entrance in desperation to get away from it. His drinks hadn’t been paid for, but he knew Emily would just add it to his ever-growing tab, one he had no clue how to pay off. Each footstep towards the door felt like it took herculean effort and concentration. He always felt so much heavier when he was drunk, like he was about to topple over at any given moment. It was an annoying feeling, especially when he had a decently long walk ahead of him. He didn’t like being drunk, it was frustrating and a pain. But it sure as hell beat the soul crushing guilt and depression that haunted every moment of his life. 

After much time, and a stop to throw up, he finally made it home, grumbling as the bright lights of Marnie’s foyer pierced his eyes. Mumbling a curse under his breath, he turned towards the kitchen, lumbering woozily towards his bedroom door. Marnie was standing at the kitchen counter, long rubber gloves on her arms as she scrubbed away at some dinner dishes. She heard Shane approaching, scrunching up her nose as the thick scent of booze radiated off of him. 

“You’re home late. Again.” She stated ever so matter-of-factly, a twinge of annoyance in her tone. Shane shrugged disinterestedly, “Yeah. I know,” he looked to the table, seeing a little coloring page and a tin of crayons sitting on its edge, “Where’s Jas?”

“Bed. Hours ago.” Marnie huffed, pursing her lips in frustration, “Third time this week I had to take care of that, Shane,”

“I know… I’m sorry,” a wave of shame hit him, the guilt piercing his heart, “I’ll be home earlier tomorrow, I promise.”

“Just like you promised today?”

“Aendi…”

“I don’t think you should go at all,” Marnie pulled the gloves from her hands, turning to face him, “How much money have you spent there this week?”

“I don’t have to-”

“How. Much.”

“I don’t know, like…” Shane did the mental math, cringing at the amount inwardly, “Probably 9,000g, not that much,”

“You know you’re in debt, you can’t be spending money so wastefully… Not to mention the health aspect,” Marnie sighed, trying her hardest to not be too harsh on him. She knew this was a struggle for him. As much as she didn’t like this, he didn’t either. It was still so hard to watch, so hard to sit on the sidelines and watch his physical and mental health decline by the day, “Shane I just want you to be healthy,”

“I’m fine,” Shane grumbled, averting his gaze. He knew she was giving him a disappointed look, and he didn’t want to see it, “I can handle myself,”

“It’s not fair to Jas either,” Marnie scolded, “She waited all night for you to come home and read a story to her. You need to be prioritizing h-”

“I am prioritizing her,” Shane snapped, “I work my ass off every day to afford what she wants and needs. I am so exhausted at the end of the day, the saloon is the one thing I do for myself. I make sure she has what she needs, I make sure she's happy, you know that, aendi!”

“Do you, Shane?”

“What’re you implying?” Shane spat, a defensive anger welling up in him and displaying on his face. Marnie stood her ground, giving him a quite similar look.

“If that were true, I wouldn't watch Jas sit by the door and wait for you to get home until she can't keep her eyes open any longer, would I? I wouldn't have to hear her ask where you are every night. I wouldn't see her cry when she thinks no one is looking,” she huffed, giving him a stern look, “Shane, that little girl is not happy… and neither are you.”

“.... Does she really do that?”

“You would know if you were home more.” Marnie scolded, “I know you need space and time for yourself, but this is getting out of hand and you know it. All of this, going to the saloon until midnight, coming home wasted… It's selfish.”

The weight of embarrassment and shame weighed down on Shane's chest, making him feel like he couldn't breathe. Just like always, Marnie was right. He'd been slipping from the moment he moved back in, and it was becoming more and more noticeable. All that talk about this being a fresh start was for nothing. He took a good step forward, and immediately fell ten steps back. Marnie noticed him on the verge of tears, immediately softening her tone and words. 

“She needs you, Shane,” Marnie sighed, “You need to work on making connections here, getting your problems under control so you can be there for her. There’s programs for it, you know. Pam suggested one that she’s gone to in the pa-”

“Oh yeah, because that worked out so well for her,” Shane hissed out with a sarcastic lilt in his voice. Marnie gave him a warning look in response. 

“You need to watch how you talk about her,” she scolded, “She’s just as worried about you, you know. Asked about you everyday when you were gone,”

“How many times are you going to bring that up?” Shane groaned, exasperation in his voice, “There’s nothin’ I can do to change what happened, and you makin’ me feel like shit about it doesn’t help. I messed up! I know that! But there’s nothin’ I can do!”

The two stayed silent for a moment, refusing to look each other in the eye. Their conversations had slowly been getting more and more strained over the past few months. Marnie had watched a steady decline with him, one that she could do little to help with. Shane resisted help at every turn, far too proud to seek out any external source to get his issues under control. He insisted that he could do it on his own, that he didn’t need anyone meddling in his affairs to get better. She tried to trust him, to believe him. It wasn’t like she could force him to do anything, after all. But watching her boy deteriorate into someone she hardly recognized, watching him close himself off from family and friends, it made her so, so worried. 

“I just want you to be okay. I want this family to be okay,” Marnie’s voice grew softer, much more understanding, “This path you’re on kills… I'm watching you throw your life away, and I just…” she exhaled deeply, closing her eyes, “Schatz, I am too old to raise another child. I need you to take better care of yourself, for everyone’s sake… especially for Jas. You need to be better than this,”

“.... I don't think I know how to be better.” Shane whispered, his tone utterly defeated. He wanted to get defensive again, to tell her to back off and let him handle things. But even in his drunken stupor, he could understand that she was right. This path was dangerous, he was selfish, he did need to be better than this. But he couldn’t admit it. He was still far too proud. Whatever. He was handling this, he knew how to get himself out of this… right? He was trying at least. All these conversations did was remind him of how much he was failing, making him feel even worse about himself, which led him to drown it in drink even further. He knew it wasn’t Marnie's intent, she was just trying to show she cared. But he couldn’t handle it, not like this. 

“You know everything I say is out of love…” Marnie whispered, “I don't want to make you feel guilty, I just want you to do better. I want you to be happy,”

Shane grabbed his door handle tight, staring blankly ahead as he pulled away from her, “Goodnight,” was all he managed to whisper, closing the door behind him. 

Turning on the light in the corner, he felt his heart sink. The room Marnie had so nicely set up for him was now a disaster. Dirty clothes and dishes covered the surfaces, an unpleasant smell starting to form in the air from their presence. Trash littered the floor as well, the crunching of paper and plastic beneath his feet. The hardwood floors were hardly even visible under the mess anymore. Everyday he promised himself he’d fix it, that he’d get it under control. He’d always start, evident by the half filled trash bags in the corner and overflowing hamper at the side. But without fail, he’d get so incredibly overwhelmed every single time that he couldn’t continue. Just looking at it now made him feel so defeated, so ashamed. He had no idea how it kept getting like this. It made him so embarrassed, especially when Marnie and Jas would take a peek inside and see just how bad it was. He wanted to be better than this.

Slinking off his work hoodie and polo, he let them fall to the floor, adding onto the ever-growing pile of laundry that he needed to work on. He kicked his shoes across the floor, hearing them hit the wall with a quiet ‘thump’. Sinking into bed after today felt like heaven, even with how lumpy and uneven the mattress was. His arms felt ready to pop from their sockets, eight hours straight of lugging heavy boxes and overdrinking had completely wiped him out. His bad knee throbbed in pain, a constant reminder of what he’d lost. Staring up at the ceiling, the one spot in this room not affected by the throes of his depressive state, he just thought. For some reason, his drinking tonight couldn’t get his mind to quiet down as much as it usually did. Maybe he was building a higher tolerance, growing used to the amount of drink he forced into his system every night. 

He thought about Jas and Marnie, how much he had to be letting them down with his behavior. No one in this house was happy and he found himself consistently being the common denominator of that problem. His aunt and goddaughter deserved better than the fuck-up he was. What Marnie said rang in his head. The thought of Jas waiting for him, crying to herself, it made him so angry. He just wanted to throttle himself, scream in his own face and ask what the hell he was doing. He thought about how disconnected he was from Emily now. She was living her own life, a happy one that didn’t need him or his baggage in it, and it killed him inside. It was his own fault, both the crumbling of their past relationship and their friendship. He wasn’t the best boyfriend back in the day, not yet mature enough to handle a relationship. And now, his lack of communication was putting their friendship in jeopardy. Shane felt like he ruined everything he touched.

And surprisingly, his thoughts kept going back to Sam and his little group of friends. There was something about the three of them that made him feel so jealous, their joy being something he envied for himself. But, they also brought some odd sense of comfort. Something about them, something about being around them reminded him of his college days with Jason and Amelia. He couldn’t exactly place it yet, or understand why he felt such a connection, especially with Sam. Sam was a particularly frustrating person in his eyes. He was tolerable of him at work, but never really went out of his way to talk to him. The kid was just so… different from him. Shane was always the pessimist these days, a miserable, lonely man that had a hard time finding joy in anything anymore. Sam couldn’t be any more different. But even still, for whatever reason, he felt some kind of connection to him. As if they perhaps were more kindred than he initially knew. What a silly thought.

As he lay there, ruminating over the pit he found himself in once again, he cried. With each passing day he felt more and more like a failure. He didn't want to be like this. No one wanted to be like this. Why couldn't he just move on? Why couldn't he pick up the pieces and get his life together? Marnie was able to do it, why couldn't he? He compared himself to her all the time, constantly seeing himself falling short where she succeeded. Watching how easily she handled their family's problems made him feel like the weakest link in the chain, an absolute embarrassment to their family name. The thoughts tortured his mind as he lay there, thoughts buzzing around and forcing him awake. Eventually the pure exhaustion he felt dragged him into a deep sleep, one that was bleak and dreamless. Restless too, he would find. 

He woke up feeling somehow much more exhausted than usual, the hangover absolutely brutal. He felt ready to vomit, his head pounding with pain as if it would explode. Oh well. It was Saturday. He could sleep in, try to sleep off the feeling. He was just about to close his eyes again, drift back off to sleep, when he heard a familiar tip-tap on his window. 

It was raining. Fuck. 

Morris for some reason insisted he come in on rainy weekends, and he dreaded them terribly. He didn’t mind the overtime pay, but actually working the hours was brutal for him. With an annoyed grumble he slid out of bed, searching around for a clean-ish uniform among the piles of laundry on the floor. Getting dressed as quick as he could, he ran out the door, hoping to get to work before it was too late. 

The rain chilled him to the bone, even with a hoodie on to protect him from the weather. With how cold the air had grown, he felt like an icicle by the time he reached the store, comforted by the comparably warm air inside. He checked the time, seeing he had just barely made it before his shift. Morris was sure to still find some issues in that. He was always upset over something.

The ache in Shane’s shoulders grew steadily as his shift went on. It wasn’t like he’d never done a stocking job before, he had plenty of experience there, but being the only stocker on staff made it a challenge. Working for Joja was a challenge in general. After a few months on the job he soon came to find that the cheery disposition Morris held was indeed covering up the cold corporate bastard he really was. He expected Shane and everyone else in this store to work like damn robots, keeping up at paces that seemed impossible. He was getting the hang of it though, slowly but surely. 

He was finishing up stocking the very last palette of some grotesque crime against food and humanity as a whole, white mushroom soda, listening to the commotion behind him. Sam was entering the same aisle, mopping the floor… rather, he was supposed to be mopping the floor. The man was practically dancing across the aisle, using his mop like it was some microphone or prop as he silently mouthed along to whatever was playing in those giant headphones of his, very obviously not noticing Shane was in the same aisle and watching. Shane could only hear bits and pieces of what was playing through those bulky headphones, but it sounded good. Very good, actually. 

“What are you listening to?” he finally asked, raising his voice to ensure Sam could hear. Sam stopped in his tracks, pulling his headphones away from one ear. He looked mildly surprised, curious that Shane was the one to actually start a conversation with him. Typically it would be Sam trying to get Shane to speak, an effort that could be as hard as pulling teeth with how standoffish the man was. 

“What’d you say?”

“I asked what you were listening to,” Shane repeated in a flat tone, “I could hear it from over here,”

A pink tint appeared on Sam’s face, embarrassment setting in. He could be self conscious about his music, and the thought that it was that audible, and that he had an audience… oh it made him feel so nervous. Sam pulled his walkman from his pocket, fumbling with the volume dial to turn it down, “I-I didn’t know you could hear that… sorry, dude…”

“Why are you sorry, it was good,” Shane admitted, shrugging nonchalantly, ‘I liked it,”

“You… you did?” Sam was shocked to say the least. He wasn’t sure that Shane enjoyed much of anything in the first place, but he liked his music? 

“Yeah, it’s pretty good. Listened to a lot of stuff like that in college, heh…” Shane mused. He put the last can on the shelf, lifting himself off the ground with a grunt. He tried to look at the label on the cassette sitting in the walkman, “What band is it?”

“Mine, actually.. Well, my friends and I’s band,” Sam admitted. 

“No kidding?” Shane raised a brow, “What do you play?”

“Bass, I do the singing too,” Sam reluctantly pulled the cassette from the player, holding it out to Shane, “Do you.. Want to listen to it? I have a bunch more back home,”

Shane stared at the cassette, looking at the little sharpie label on the front, “Goblin Destroyer, huh?”

“It’s silly, isn’t it?” Sam asked, looking embarrassed once again. Shane shrugged, taking the cassette in his hands, “Nah. Sounds badass, actually,”

“You mean it?”

“I don’t have a reason to lie to you,” Shane scoffed. He slipped the tape in his pocket, “I’ll listen to it tonight, thanks,”

Sam gripped the handle of the mop tighter, still feeling his chest squeeze tight. He didn’t know why he could get this self-conscious about it. Music, playing in the band, it made him feel alive. Why did being open about it make him so embarrassed? Maybe in this case it was just that it was Shane. He seemed to be the standoffish, judgemental type, and Sam certainly didn’t take him as someone who’d enjoy that kind of music. But maybe this was a good thing, a step in the right direction finally. He finally  found something the two had in common! 

“Boys!” Morris’ snippy voice rang out through the empty aisle. He stood at the other end, hands on his hips as he looked to them in annoyance, “It’s 5. You can get going now,”

“Oh thank fuck” Shane thought to himself.

He and Sam hurriedly got their things together to leave, the pair anxious to get out of the bleak store and get on with their day. Shane was pleasantly surprised to find the rain had let up, the sky showing off its sunset hues. Sam found a sense of joy in it too, smiling upwards towards the sky as the two of them made their way on the path towards home. 

“Isn’t it awesome?” Sam mused.

“What?” 

“All of this,” Sam motioned towards the skyline, the sunset creeping over the mountaintops, “It’s beautiful, isn’t it? Hard to stay sad when there’s so many little things to be grateful for,”

Shane squinted at the sky, rolling his eyes just a bit, “It’s… a sunset. It happens everyday, Sam,”

“Yeah, but each one is unique! It’s all in the little things, man,” Sam smiled, “There’s beauty everywhere! Like the little flowers on the cliff there, the reeds in the river… You just gotta know where to look for it,”

“That’s… deep,” Shane raised his brows in mild surprise, “Didn’t know you were so introspective,”

“You never asked!”

As they passed over the bridge the pair went their separate ways, Sam waving goodbye as he ran off towards his home. Shane took a sharp left, approaching the Stardrop Saloon for the seventh time that week. He took a step up the creaking staircase, putting a hand on the doorknob. Something stopped him from twisting it open though. It was like his body was locked, preventing him from taking another step forward. His mind raced, a prominent frustrated expression on his face. 

“You promised aendi you’d be home earlier…” he thought to himself, “Have some fucking self control, get yourself together,”

His aunt's words from the night before came to mind, the images of Jas waiting for him at the front door burned into the front of his mind. He could just imagine her little face looking so, so sad, hearing her soft crying echo in his mind. The guilt made him feel unable to breathe. He needed to do better. He needed to be a better guardian, a better role model. Pushing responsibility to Marnie wasn’t fair for anyone in their house, and he knew it well. Begrudgingly, he removed his hand from the saloon’s door, turning to walk back home. 

Jas once again stood in the foyer, her little purple eyes trained on the door. She’d been like this every night this week, intent on waiting for Shane to come home right after work. Marnie was setting the table for dinner, taking a nervous look at the clock. It was already 6:00. She feared Jas would once again be getting her hopes up for nothing, just like every other night this week. She felt so much pity, so much anger. Seeing her get her hopes up like this, watching her reluctantly leave her spot as the night grew on, seeing how quiet she got when she realized Shane wasn’t coming home yet… It killed her. 

On one hand, Marnie was glad that Shane was finally relying on her for help. On the other, he was starting to rely far too much on her. It was noticeable to everyone in the house, and she was growing weary of it. It also made Marnie realize that she didn’t know how to help him. She thought she did, she thought her experience in raising him would help when it came to giving him advice on how to navigate his situation. But it didn’t. Every attempt she made fell flat at best, drove him away at worst. She thought about staging some sort of intervention, maybe getting the new town doctor to sit down with him and discuss treatment plans, but she couldn’t force him. She knew she couldn’t. But she also couldn’t stand seeing her grand-niece look so dejected night after night. Marnie prayed that Shane kept his promise, that he would walk through that door any minute. 

Almost as if on cue, the front door swung open, Jas’ excited shrieks ringing out as she ran to her godfather, “You’re home!” she squealed, jumping into his arms, “I missed you!”

“Missed you too, chickadee,” Shane smiled, hugging her tight, “You have a good day?”

“Yeah! Me n’ Vincent played in the rain and I caught bugs!” Jas giggled, “I got one in a little cage, aendi said she’s a roly-poly!”

The girl broke out into a ramble about bug facts she read about in the books Penny gave her for classes, telling Shane all about the crazy things she learned about them. Jas was like a sponge for knowledge, taking every little fun fact and quip she learned and storing it away in her little mind. She genuinely loved learning, but she loved sharing that knowledge even more. Shane listened intently as she rambled, a tiny smile on his face. He looked up towards the kitchen as she talked, seeing Marnie stand there with a soft look on her face. She looked relieved, proud even. It seemed he had taken their conversation to heart. Deep down both of them knew that this wouldn’t be permanent, that he would slip up again at some point, but for now, they chose to bask in this moment. It was a good one, and they didn’t want anything coming in it’s way. 

The night went on with little issue. Shane, with his mind clear, was able to participate much more in family activities. He talked more at dinner, played all the little games Jas requested, helped Marnie with cleanup. It wasn’t perfect, but it was a start. It was a good day, and as fleeting as this would be, he was glad for it. 

Soon enough it was time for bed, and Jas was incredibly excited. She waited patiently, dressed up in her favorite pajamas with a storybook in hand. Shane was busy brushing her hair back, helping her slip on her little yellow bonnet, tying it in a bow in the back. 

“Can you read the book now?” she asked, a slight impatience in her voice. She’d been waiting for a story all week, and she was incredibly excited for it. Jas refused to let even Marnie read to her, insisting that she wanted it to be Shane the entire week. Shane took the little book from her hands, finding it to be one about all kinds of fables and fairy stories. Penny had lent it to her after seeing her gain such an interest in those sorts of tales. He sat next to her bed, letting her get comfy under the covers before he began to read. Little stories about forest fairies and Junimos, little creatures who took care of nature and the world around them filled the book. Jas listened on in wonder to the fables, imagining herself running into one of these creatures herself someday, making friends with them just like the characters in the book did. Shane had a great storytelling voice that kept her invested in each and every fable, making each word feel real and true. 

“Uncle Shane?”

“Yeah, Jassy?”

“Are those stories real?”

Shane closed the book, setting it on the nightstand and giving her a smile, “Well, what do you think?”

Jas thought for a moment before nodding, “Yeah! I think so!”

“Then there you go,” Shane mused, reaching up to pull the drawstring on her lamp, “Time to sleep though, it’s a school night,”

“Okay… goodnight!” Jas yawned, resting her head back on her pillow. She watched as Shane got up and walked towards the door before she shot up again, “Uncle Shane!”

“What’s wrong?”

“Thank you for comin’ home early,” Jas smiled, “I like it when you read stories, you do funny voices,” 

“You’re welcome, kiddo,”

“Can you come home early tomorrow? Please?”

“... I’ll try,” Shane muttered, “G’night, Jassy,”

Shane made his way to his room, avoiding turning on his light so he wouldn’t see the mess yet again. He was far too tired today to have that on his mind again, or to get out of his work clothes. He unceremoniously flopped down onto his bed, wincing as he felt something sharp dig into his leg. Reaching into his pocket he found the cassette Sam had gifted him, remembering he promised to give it a listen. He lazily reached over to his nightstand, fumbling his hand around to search for his own old walkman. Slipping in the tape and sliding on a janky pair of headphones, he turned on the old player. The same tunes Sam had been dancing to earlier today began to blast in his ears.

 It was just as good as Shane had thought before, if not even better. Damn, this kid was talented. His friends too. He could hear a genuine passion for the craft in the vocals and instruments, able to tell that the three of them were having the time of their lives recording these tracks. He couldn’t understand why Sam was so self conscious about him hearing it earlier. Shane eventually let himself be pulled into sleep, leaving the headphones on and letting the tape play through the night. Tonight, he found he slept just a bit better as he listened on. 

-----------------

The morning was quiet as Sundays always were. Shane and Jas had left to go spend the day outdoors, Marnie sitting at the front counter of the shop. It had been dreadfully slow today, and she found herself feeling bored to near death. Suddenly, the door to the ranch swung open, making her jump just a bit in surprise. A very happy looking Sam walked into the foyer, stepping up to the counter and resting his elbows on the edge, “Mornin’ ma’am!”

“Same to you!” Marnie mused, “Ms. Yoder is just fine though, ma’am is a bit… formal,”

“Sorry ma’- Ms. Yoder,” Sam corrected himself, getting a content smile from Marnie, “Oh that’s alright… Anything I can help you with?”

“Yeah, we need more eggs,” Sam shrugged sheepishly, “I kinda dropped a few while we were making breakfast and we’re almost out,”

“Let me go get some for you, I’ll be right back!” 

Sam waited patiently at the counter while Marnie entered her coop, drumming his fingertips on the ledge. He took a look around the foyer, scanning over all the little decorations and photos hanging on its walls. Cute little pieces of art, signs with words in a language he didn’t understand, and a barrage of family photos from the past few decades, chronicling the life of his coworker and his family. His eyes landed on a more recent photo, one that caught his interest. Shane stood in the middle, wearing a band tee and varsity jacket. His hair was long and styled in a mullet, not much unlike Sams. He looked happy, his face not yet scarred from the throes of age and stress. Two people stood at his side, smiling alongside him as they posed for the camera. The one on the left looked a lot like Jas, and the one on the right looked at her like she was the most beautiful thing on the planet. They looked so happy, so full of life. He thought the pair standing with Shane must be Jas’ parents, and wondered where they were now, wondered what happened that made Shane look the way he did today.

Marnie entered the house again, holding a small basket full of eggs, “Here you go! Your mother can return this at aerobics this week,” she turned her focus to where Sam was looking, smiling when she saw the photo. She’d taken that many years ago on their first day of sophomore year in college, a day she remembered well, “They look so happy, don’t they?”

“Yeah!” Sam agreed, “Who are those two?”

“Jas’ parents! They were good friends with my boy years back,”

“Huh…” Sam furrowed his brow, “I thought Shane was Jas’ uncle, isn’t he?”

Marnie shook her head, pulling the frame from the wall to give Sam a closer look, “Oh no, Shane doesn’t have any siblings… It’s more of an honorary thing, Jas is his goddaughter,” she explained. Her face softened into a melancholic look, “These two were just friends, very close ones. The sweetest things too, rest their souls,”

“Are they-?”

“They’ve passed, yes,” Marnie sighed, “I’m not sure how much he’s comfortable with me telling you, but… Jas was just a baby when it happened, Shane adopted her to honor their wishes. It’s been hard for all of us, but I am proud of him. Takes a lot of strength to step into that role when you’re young,”

“Yeah.. it does,” Sam felt something shift in his mind. So much about Shane suddenly made much more sense to him. The attitude, the anger, the frustration, all emotions that Sam knew all too well. Shane just didn’t mask it as well as Sam did, coped in much different ways. Was that why he was at the saloon so much? He knew that must be such a weight to carry, stepping into a fatherly role for a child you shouldn’t have to be parenting, for one reason or another. He used to feel sympathy for the man, but now there was a sense of empathy in its place.

He reminisced to one of the times his father had left for deployment years ago. He was sixteen, Vincent merely a baby. It was such an emotional day, tensions high and a quiet anger in the house. Sam didn’t understand why Kent had to go again, why he was leaving them yet again after so many promises that he wouldn’t. That day, his father made him promise to take care of his mother and brother if anything were to happen to him. Those words were burned into his head, even when he was well into adulthood. The thought of something happening to his father, this act of being “man of the house” becoming a permanent title, the thought made him sick.This entire experience felt so isolating, especially now that Kent was deployed again, no return date in sight. He loved his friends, but he knew they couldn’t understand that kind of pressure. They could sympathize, sure, but he never had someone he knew who could truly empathize with this. Not until now.

“Are you okay?” Marnie questioned, trying to get Sam's attention, “I think I lost you there…”

“Oh! Don’t worry, I’m okay Ms. Yoder,” Sam assured, giving her a shrug. He took the basket from her hands, fumbling for some cash in his pocket, “How much do I owe you?”

“Oh put your money away, this one is on the house,”

“... You sure?” 

Marnie nodded, giving him a smile, “Just make sure I get that basket back and we have nothing to worry about. Tell your mother hello for me, won’t you?”

“I will, promise!” 

With that Sam waved goodbye, heading back home with the basket in hand. He couldn’t get that picture out of his head the entire time he walked back. Shane had been such a mystery to him the past few months. Seeing how he acted compared to his much more cheerful family was confusing to say the least, but now, he thought he finally understood. As gruff and standoffish as that man was, Sam could finally see another side of him, one that was kind, happy even. Maybe he could try a bit harder to be his friend, then maybe he could see that side of him in person. 

---------------

That next Monday at work, Shane kept catching Sam giving him odd looks through his shift, ones that unnerved him. Sam usually looked fairly content, finding enjoyment in his work, trying to drag Shane into conversations. But today, there was a weird sort of heaviness in the air. He looked almost sad, staying quiet much of the day, and that’s not the Sam he knew. When they went on their lunch break, the silence was almost deafening. It made him so uncomfortable, so weirded out. Shane finally broke, desperate to know what was wrong.

“The hell’s your problem, Samson?”

“Huh?” 

“You’ve been looking at me like someone just died. What’s up with you today?”

Sam pulled off his headphones, setting them on the breakroom table with a soft *clack*, “Just thinkin, I guess,”

“Bullshit. What’s wrong?” Shane demanded, “You’re weirdin’ me out,”

“I went to your aunt's shop for eggs yesterday. I saw this photo on the wall and-”

Shane cut him off with a loud, frustrated groan. He knew exactly where Sam was going with this. It wasn’t the first time Marnie had been so open about this situation, and sure wouldn’t be the last. He clasped a hand to his face, dragging it down dramatically, “Shit… I hate when she just tells people about that, I-” he exhaled deeply, shaking his head, “Sorry, I don’t know why she did that… The entire town doesn’t need to know my sob story,”

“I-I just wanted to say I-”

“Stop,” Shane grumbled, holding up a hand, “I don’t want to hear about how sorry you are for my loss. I’ve heard it so many damn times that it doesn’t mean anythin’ to me anymore,”

“It’s not that!” Sam assured, “I wanted to say that I get it. That’s gotta be rough,”

“You get it?” Shane repeated, raising a brow in skeptical curiosity, “What do you mean you ‘get it’?”

Here went nothing. Sam folded his hands, looking down at the blank table before him, “My dad, he’s in the service. Been in and out as long as I can remember. It’s always been hard, especially for mom. And when Vince was born it got harder,” he shrugged nervously as he continued on, “I’ve basically had to step up and fill that role for my brother while he’s gone… I don’t want to be his dad, though. I shouldn’t have to be. I’m his brother… I know it’s not the same, but I think I get what you’re feeling… It’s unfair, it’s frustrating, and-”

“Makes you feel like you’re alone? Like no one understands you?” Shane cut in, giving Sam a much more empathetic expression. Sam nodded silently, still looking down. 

The part of Shane that felt jealousy and aggravation towards Sam melted away in almost an instant. He could’ve never known that someone like Sam was hiding that under all the sunshine. Sam was so well adjusted, in a much better spot than he was, and he was even younger than Shane when that responsibility was thrust upon him. It made his heart hurt for him, it made him want to help him, even though he didn’t know how. Shane didn’t even know how to help himself, for crying out loud.

“How do you do it?”

"Huh?"

"How do you stay so...." Shane motioned in the air, "How are you always so damn happy, then? You deal with all that and you just… how aren't you miserable all the time?”

“I’m not always happy,” Sam admitted, “Sometimes you gotta put on a brave face, act happy when you’re not. I don’t want Vince to know the truth of how scary this all is. He shouldn’t have to think about war, or the possibility that dad isn’t coming home….”

“But it’s hard to be the one who has to keep it together all the time, huh?” Shane asked, his tone surprisingly understanding and soft. That signature bitterness was nowhere to be found. 

“Yeah…” Sam agreed, “I pretend everything is okay, I act like someone I’m not. It sucks. I just want to be myself,”

“That’s no way to cope, kid… I know I’m in no spot to criticize, or give advice, but-” Shane took a pause, trying to think about his next words carefully, “Maybe talk to people. Your friends, your mom. Don’t put yourself through this alone, don’t try to prove to people that you can keep it together. I tried that, look where it got me,” he motioned to himself, grimacing at the sight.

Sam shrugged, “I don’t know if I can… People already think I’m super immature… even stupid. I don’t want to make them think I can’t handle myself,”

“Speakin’ from experience, you need to. Don’t make the same mistakes I did,” Shane chuckled bitterly, clenching a hand tight, “You don’t wanna end up this way, some miserable loser that just sucks the life out of everything he touches.”

He looked back to Sam, but for just a moment, didn't see his coworker sitting there. In his place sat that terrified 25 year old from all those years ago. He looked so clueless and afraid of what the future held for him. There was an naivety in his eyes, the pit he would fall into not yet in front of him. He saw himself, and Yoba he did not want Sam to end up like he did.

Part of him felt guilty for assuming Sam had some perfect life. Shane knew well about the war going on with the Gotoro Empire, how brutal things were. Every day you could open the news to see some kind of new tragedy, one that just shattered your soul. He couldn't imagine having a loved one participating in it, what that must feel like. It must be terrifying. But even still, even through all of it, Sam kept that happy face. He took care of Vincent, even when he shouldn't have to. And somehow, he was still a kind person, void of that bitterness and rage that Shane let consume him whole. Sam coped with kindness and positivity, Shane coped with vices. Sam was a source of light to everyone in his life, and Shane was a deep, dark pit that dragged people down. They were two sides of the same coin, men in similar situations that couldn’t handle it any differently from the other. Though it was something Shane never believed he would think in his entire life, he wished he could be more like Sam.

“For what it’s worth, I don’t think you’re stupid,” Shane admitted, “Immature?... Maybe. But you’re young, you’re allowed to be immature,”

“And I don’t think you’re a loser,” Sam gave him a weak smile, “I think you’re just hurting, you need a friend,”

“Maybe I have one now,” Shane mused. Sam gave him a look of surprise, not expecting that in the slightest. He wanted Shane to be a friend, sure, but with how things had been going, he never thought it would come to be. He smiled, sitting up straight for the first time that night. Talking about all this, especially with someone who had even a shred of understanding of this situation, it made it feel like some weight was off his shoulders. He still felt like he was bearing the world on his back, and he doubted that feeling would go away until his father was home for good. But he felt just a bit lighter, and for that he was grateful. 

Shane had thought that he was some ill-fitting, unneeded piece of the puzzle that made up Pelican town. It was a lonely feeling, one that consumed his mind, made his bitterness grow like a strangling vine in his soul. But maybe he wasn’t as ill-fitting as he thought. Maybe he just hadn’t found his place yet. He certainly wouldn’t today, or tomorrow, or even anytime soon. But having another person, someone outside of family, who understood him made him feel like it was possible. That feeling of dread and fear hadn’t yet gone away. He doubted it every would, honestly. But at least he wasn’t alone in it.

Maybe he could take a page from Sam’s book, though. Maybe he just needed to look at things from a different perspective, try more to see the better things in life. He looked up towards the window in the breakroom, watching as the sunset colors began to roll in over the mountain tops, signaling the end of the day. The flowers along the cliff overlooking town swayed in the wind, the sound of the river carrying over to where he sat.

It was beautiful.

[arenabreadandbiscuits]

What Disney princess or non Disney couples do Radioapple and RadioStatic remind you of.

For me

RadioStatic bottom Vox is Ariel x Eric, or Christine x Raoul

RadioStatic bottom Alastor is Rapunzel x Eugene, Anastasia x Dimitri

Radioapple bottom Lucifer is Snow White x Florian, Odette x Derer

And Radioapple Bottom Alastor is Tiana x Naveen, Megara x Hercules

But what about you ps sorry for rambling

PLS DONT APOLOGIZE

I was reading and ended up having those moments when you hear something really cute and fluffy about a ship that you're on the fence about or whatever and it's one of those moments that really solidifies your secret love for em.

I'm saying I was like this:

You're thoughts for radioapple got me so good, good job 😩✨

For starters though! (Prompts Below!)

Radiostatic: Bottom Vox x Top Alastor

Ariel and Eric for bottom Vox x Alastor is so cute. Like hold on lemme post gifs too but listen to this bruh, like Vox is definitely the one to run off every so often and BAM...what's this creature that walks on...sticks?? Twigs?? Like BROO IM FINNA DRAW THIS LISTEN TO ME

anyway Vox is curious and of course he's told not to go, I'm thinking maybe instead of the family scenario in the little mermaid, Valentino could be like Ariel's father. Like he's always telling Vox about those humans and stuff, to stay away and all that even though Vox feels such a pull.

He goes anyway. "It'll just be for a moment... No one will even notice!" And then he goes out there, builds this thing where watching Alastor go on about his day to day is a lot more interesting then the ocean all of the sudden.

Bro would literally freak out when it comes down to Alastor actually catching him in the act. Like imagine them freezing for a moment and just looking at each other before Vox seems to realize he's been caught and immediately ducks back down into the ocean just so he can fathom it.

"H-He saw me! Holy shit he actually saw me this time!"

"The people", being Alastor. Vox finds that he desperately wants to be so much closer to Alastor and interestingly enough, the feeling is mutual.

Like come on, Alastor saw a mermaid! How could he not want to investigate further?

I'm also thinking something like imagine Alastor having internal moments of like he's feeling like something is missing and just for a splint moment, just as he lets his guard down, he lifts his head with a little smile and casts his eyes up, perking when he's met with another pair of eyes.

Lol, active representation of Vox when their eyes connect before he ducks under the waves below!

BRUH NAH THIS IDEA IS TOO GOOD I MUST DRAW 😭

...

...

Anyway~

Radiostatic: Bottom Alastor x Top Vox

I LOVE the repunzal x Eugene idea too since I know those two better but yo immediately thinking of this scene.

Alastor would be so spooked to find Vox there that this is TOO him 😭😭😭😂 he definitely wasn't playing with Vox at first and then considering Alastor's a deer it's also giving those videos of deers jumping extra hard at something when it spooks them. Immediately on guard.

Thing is, Vox is quite charming, like more so than Alastor would have ever initially thought.

Vox definitely finds himself looking at Alastor like this often after they get along a bit more. Like he's always been able to run around and be 'free', a commitment issue with saying in one place for too long surely, but Alastor's always been...locked up, hidden away and hardly ever exploring the world around them. Vox finds that while their adventures together are CRAZY he really likes that light in Alastor that Alastor has never been given the chance to show others before.

Alastor has always had to be something so much smaller than what he really is and Vox sees it when they run into each other and he doesn't necessarily mean to but he manages to be up for pulling that side out of Alastor.

Imagine Vox being so lovesick while Alastor is still understanding it, like he's patient but he's always there if Alastor actually needs him, always willing to rush to his aid and keep him safe because after everything Alastor has been through Vox is willing to be the peace he deserves. It's all for Alastor in his head though later Vox really comes to the understanding that it is in fact for himself as well because in reality...all he's ever wanted was someone to love who loved him too.

Radioapple: Bottom Lucifer x Top Alastor

Snow White and Florian! I'm telling you you are brilliant.

For one work with me here because Snow White is an older movie so I'm recounting right now and hopefully accurately but Snow White lived on her own with the animals and such before right?? If that's the cause when Lucifer went about his life he did so simply, doing what he loves. Like it's giving that he is a hopeless romantic here, like imagine when he's outside watching the animals be together and find mates he smiles because of course he wishes he could have something like that. A partner and one who adores him.

In the case from earlier where Vox is a lover boy Lucifer here is too but like I said, hopeless romantic. Where basically he continues to wait, wait, and wait even if doing so gets him down from time to time.

Maybe one day someone will come, maybe someday someone will find him and in moments like that he sings because it feels right. What else would he do anyway?

I see a scene in my head that I wanna draw and basically Lucifer is outside, probably sitting in a patch of grass, bonus points if it's flowers and he sings as the sun shines down on him. Animals would start approaching and Alastor would hear it in a distance, hunting though ..he has to know who's singing. He'll follow the singing, careful just as he would be with an animal just in case he spooks whoever it is and then he'll find him. He'll see Lucifer and just stop for a moment as he listens.

Alastor would definitely take a radio with him when he was outside every once in a while just to do so but imagine his face hearing Lucifer sing. He's starting to worry he may never be able to listen to the radio again without thinking of the mystery man who loves the animals.

It probably leaves him thinking a lot. He must leave him be.. no, no. He must talk to him! Alastor probably would be conflicted on whether he wants to get closer or pull away and act like he never heard anything to begin with.

Imagine he does decide to leave at first but he just keeps coming back later like he can't help but find this beautiful man who sings in the woods every time Alastor goes. Definitely would be a really good slow burn honestly but they definitely would find each other later and Alastor is so careful with Lucifer, easy with him and as they grow together it just feels right.

Radioapple: Bottom Alastor x Top Lucifer

I'm finna eat this up so good. Both Meg x Hercules and Tiana x Naveen are amazing ships for how I think this dynamic between them would go.

Lucifer is so witty and charming so moments like when Naveen was walking out playing his little guitar and stopped for a moment to like wink or whatever at Tiana and the moment when Hercules was at the waterhole and smitten but Meg and the two scenes that jump to mind thinking of Lucifer x Alastor here.

Like Lucifer probably shows more of his fun loving nature here, like he works for himself but he's really just chilling, not particular goal in mind though he does have dreams and ambitions. Pfft frog Lucifer x Frog Alastor needs to be drawn or something because the back and forth that Tiana and Naveen had was top tier Radioapple 😩😭

YOOO THIS IS SO YHEM IDC IDC

Like I always thought that in the movie even before they turned to frogs, that it was interesting that Naveen and Tiana had that moment. It was giving accidentally soulmates or something along those lines because in the cause of radioapple, Lucifer probably seen Alastor at that moment and thought he was cute so tipped his hat and grinned and Alastor rolls his eyes and it's just that. Lucifer doesn't push for anything more and then BAM they run into each other again later and have to deal with each other.

Lol and we saw in Princess in the frog later how when they were frogs Naveen and Tiana had their disputes and such when trying to turn back human and Alastor and Lucifer would literally be the very same way 😂

Same in the concept of them being like Hercules and Meg. With both ships Lucifer is the witty charming love interest and Alastor is the hardworking other who isn't necessarily searching for love but it finds him anyway.

Like they definitely have their moments of arguing but they work so well together when they actually choose to do so and Alastor finds himself being more and more drawn in by Lucifer's presence as they spend time together.

Really it's Alastor having to trust Lucifer and Lucifer having to prove that he's trustworthy but once Alastor lets him in everything else seems to be history.

Imma leave it here for now but I hope y'all like the read! Ask box is open and I'm still healing so commissions are always welcome.

Drawing requests are 4/5 if I believe so RN and I'll post Wips of current art later ^^

[elvenbeard]

Blank Canvas

Cyberpunk 2077 Fanfic Summary: Mr. B has called, and V and and Kerry follow his invitation. The man who claims he holds the solution to V's problem in his hands, has yet to deliver the proof and keep his word... This is truly V's last shot at a long and happy life, and he sacrificed so much to get here... it better be worth it. (Post-Sun-Ending, mostly canon-compliant, Chapter 8/?, 7542 words, Kerry Eurodyne/V, content warning for mild body horror and canonical disgustingness! - notes at the end >> Previous Chapter >> Read from the Beginning

V’s Kenshin tech pistol rested heavy in his lap. The sharp, cold metal ridges of the word “arasaka” engraved into the barrel bit his tracing fingertips. His eyes were pinned to the building not far ahead, casting an ominous shadow on them in the late afternoon light.

“Got the sneakin’ suspicion we’ll lose contact as soon as you go in,” Rogue said on the holo, “So if I don’t hear back from you within an hour…”

“Send in the cavalry,” V chuckled, as did Rogue on the other end of the line. She sighed.

“Don’t think you gotta worry as much as ya do. They’re shady motherfuckers… but that’s what’s gonna be your protection. They wouldn’t wanna draw the attention hurting you would get ‘em… and even more so, fuckin’ Eurodyne.”

“Good point,” V said, but he couldn’t quite shake the impression that Rogue herself wasn’t so sure about this, deflecting, relativizing a little too much. She’d been in this business more than thrice the time he had, knew what she was talking about. Usually. But even she didn’t know more about these people than V did.

“Ya really think it’s a good idea to take him along?” she asked after a short pause.

V kept his eyes straight ahead, to not give Kerry, on the driver’s seat next to him still, any indication that they were talking about him.

“Well, what do you think?” he said in a tone as neutral as he managed.

“That he’s almost as fuckin’ stubborn as Johnny,” Rogue said, “I get it, really do. Still… Y’know what happened last time I took a rockerboy to a gig.”

“Yeah…”

This knowledge, this memory, was exactly why V did not want Kerry here with him, amongst many other reasons practical, logical, and probably also irrational.

“I’m not sayin’ that lightly,” she said, “But be careful. He might be doin’ this for you, and it could make all the difference. But they sure as fuck know he’s your biggest weakness while you’re in there together. They’re not gonna hesitate to use that against you if they gotta.”

There was a short, heavy pause.

“C’mon now, go, kid,” Rogue then said, ordered almost, “Lemme know how it went… And don’t worry ‘bout the Afterlife. We’ll cope with not havin’ ya around a little while longer.”

“Still not a fan of my optimization plans, hm?” V grinned.

“Fuck off. And move your ass. I’m not gonna come over and kick it for ya.”

She ended the call and V sighed.

“So… she got any final words of wisdom?” Kerry asked, fingers gently drumming on the steering wheel. They had swapped cars at home, and with what Rogue had said just now V wondered if it might not have been better after all to use Kerry’s Aerondight to get here… But then again, if shit hit the fan in some way, he didn’t want any more unnecessary negative attention drawn to him.

“Not really,” V shook his head, “Nothin’ I didn’t think of already at least.”

“Told ya so,” Kerry shrugged, pulling out his cigarettes at the same time. He only paused when he noticed V’s stern stare.

“Ah, fuck,” he mumbled and then got out of the car. They had not only swapped cars, but also changed clothes quickly while at the penthouse. As he slipped from the driver’s seat, Kerry’s black bomber jacket rode up briefly, revealing the gun tucked into the waistband of his cargo pants.

“You shouldn’t do that,” V said as he got out himself, “Posers in action films keep their gun in their pants. In the real world that’s gonna get you shot in the ass faster than you think.”

Out of reflex V closed the passenger side door with his left elbow, flinching at the pain shooting through his shoulder and chest. He took a deep breath, then adjusted his own gun holster worn snugly under his coat.

“Fiiine,” Kerry sighed, lit cigarette hanging from the corner of his mouth, and he put the gun into his jacket’s pocket. Not ideal still, but better. V smiled at him, and then slowly turned to look down the short, narrow side street they were parked in. They were close to the Santo Domingo district border, in the middle of the industrial area at the edge of the city. The location coordinates Mr. B had sent him laid not far ahead. A new, sleek white building, curved and modern in design, rose at the center of what he remembered to be factory grounds formerly. V guessed it around seven stories tall and it was far from imposing, a little bit lost on the large lot even, but it blended in well with the surrounding corpo complexes. The entire compound was fenced in. V spotted cameras and security turrets near the reinforced entrance gate. No security staff though, not even mechs or drones, much to his surprise. Or maybe they were simply not out in the open, or cloaked, or, or, or...

“I’d like to have a short look around before goin’ in,” V said, turning back to Kerry, “You wanna wait here?”

“I’d rather tag along,” he said, then added, “If I’m not in the way.”

Kerry’s tone was off, he stood slightly hunched over, as if to make himself smaller.

“You’re not,” V quickly said, forcing a smile as he reached out to tug on his sleeve briefly. Kerry really wouldn’t be a bother for some casual scouting ahead of time. He might even notice things V didn’t. Four eyes, and all that.

“I’m just asking ‘cause I’m still not sure what to really expect. Give you the chance to back out, y’know?”

“V, how many more times do I gotta tell you you’re stuck with me?” Kerry asked sternly, then slowly started walking towards the compound and V followed. As soon as they’d reached the end of the side street though, he hesitated and turned back around, downplaying his uneasiness with a brief smirk and cocky shrug, as if to say, “after you”.

“Let’s go for a short walk around the block,” he decided, nodding to have Kerry follow him around the corner. To look around, and to maybe walk off some of their nervous energy.

They headed along the main road in northern direction, “Francis Street” said the small buzzing signs at the intersection. The building was to their left now, and they’d slowly surround it counterclockwise. Kerry stayed close, V had his scanners active and investigated the security setup, looking for weaknesses in the system or structure, and anything out of the ordinary they could potentially use to their advantage.

“Isn’t it, dunno… suspicious to walk around out in the open like this?” Kerry asked shorty before they’d turn around the first corner, “I mean, not tellin’ ya how to do your job, but…”

“No, you’re not wrong,” V said, “But this is not a stealth job. If we had to sneak in quietly, I would’ve parked the car somewhere else to begin with. Do the reconnaissance from further away, over a longer timeframe. But since they expect me, and we got an access token…”

“Then… why make the effort?” Kerry wondered.

“Can’t hurt to know what we’re up against if something goes wrong,” V said, “I don’t know this area well, and it’s good to have a rough layout of everything in mind at least. ‘specially since the place doesn’t seem to have regular windows.”

They stopped briefly on the northern side of the compound and V nodded into the direction of the building. So far, he had noted nothing out of the usual, nothing he wouldn’t have expected in one way or another.

“See that?” he pointed to a gate on the side of the building blending in so well with the exterior walls, it was barely visible without a scanner, “Could be a garage entrance, and going by the size it’s big enough for a small tank. Could even lead underground. And the lights on the roof, the colors, and the way they’re arranged, suggest an AV landing pad. But can’t tell from here if there’s one there right now or not. No big communication towers or anything though, so this is all pretty closed off, which fits their secrecy and posing as an independent little lab with no ulterior motives. The security tech I’ve seen so far… all Arasaka, even if they removed the branding for most of it to make it less apparent.”

No wonder, his former employer’s name wasn’t well-liked in Night City once again.

“Huh,” Kerry pondered V’s explanations for a moment, looking the building up and down, “Wouldn’t even know where to start, like… sure, there’s security turrets and cameras but, what to do with that info…”

V had been uncertain about whether or not he wanted to… but in the end, he was convinced that Mr. B would expect him to check out their security upfront.

“Can you keep an eye out for a moment?” V asked, “Just out here on the street. Make a note of anyone passing by or giving us weird looks.”

“What’re you up to?” Kerry wanted to know, shoulders tense, but voice relaxed.

“Check the cameras. Just a minute or so, don’t wanna push it,” he said with a grin, hacking into the CCTV at the same time. His vision blurred and he gained control of the camera nearest to their position. It was attached to the corner post of the fence surrounding the compound.

“Oookay…” Kerry said reluctantly, and through the lens V saw themselves, Kerry looking around with his hands in his pockets, surely clinging to his iron.

“Don’t worry,” he tried to soothe him, “I’ll be quick and then we continue.”

The cameras on the outside of the building were all part of a separate closed-circuit network, and V couldn’t find an easy way to gain access to any internal systems. Not that he had expected to. He switched through the various cameras, most of them on the fences, around the gate, then surprisingly one surveying from the rooftop. He panned it around.

“Huh, no AV on the roof,” he informed Kerry, “Also, nothing out of the usual… apart from all security completely automated it seems. No illusive private security firm like the Peralezes had to deal with…”

He logged out of the system again, blinking a few times until his optics had refocused.

“Let’s move on.”

They completed the rest of their lap around the compound in a little less than ten minutes overall. There was not much to discover, nothing out of the usual, and V had to shut up the nagging voice in the back of his head complaining that all he did was procrastinate the inevitable.

“Last chance,” he said quietly, turned to Kerry, who shook his head sternly, eyes narrowed and dark.

“The only way I’m not going in there with you ’s them draggin’ me back out by my feet.”

V more mouthed than said “okay” in response, but still his whole body screamed to put Kerry back into the car and lock the doors until this was over. Instead, he stepped down from the curb onto the dusty tarmac. Crossing the few yards now separating them from the compound entrance seemed to be an insurmountable distance, while with each step V’s dread grew.

The gate at the center of the lot was heavy black metal, just like the fence. V recognized security scanners embedded into the floor. A couple of signs attached warned of trespassing and lethal force being used, the usual markings one could find to the entrance of every corporate- or government owned facility like this. Only now V finally noticed the nameplate above the entrance. It was somewhat subtle, fine silver letters engraved into white marble-like material, mirroring the design of the building.

“Beyond?” Kerry muttered as if he’d read V’s mind. V glanced at him also reading the sign, then Kerry looked at him.

“Heard worse names for a startup,” V shrugged. Very faintly below the “Beyond” a tagline stated “Technologies” in a spaced out, heavier font.

“Guess time will tell if they’re beyond awesome or beyond awful,” Kerry muttered, and V chuckled.

“Beyond belief, maybe?” he said, and Kerry groaned.

“Beyond belief how many bad puns this will lead to…”

They both snickered, briefly forgetting why they were here, that there was nothing really to joke about just yet.

V looked around for an intercom or something comparable, but there was nothing.  Security cameras, yes, but even as they finally stood right in front of the gate, there seemed to be no immediately visible way inside, nothing happened.

“Hello?” he asked out loud, for lack of a better idea in the moment, his heart beating in his throat, “I’m here… For Mr. B?”

Nothing.

Kerry stepped a little closer, hands still in his pockets, and looked around, over his shoulder, at V.

“Gonna try and call him,” V said after a couple of moments, but then a soft crackle of static somewhere above their heads made them both look up.

“Welcome,” a voice said. Not Mr. B’s as far as V could tell, probably an automated receptionist. He still couldn’t tell where exactly it was coming from though, it seemed to be all around them with no discernible source. Not loud or otherwise attention-drawing, only just so they could hear it.

“Please step into the scanner,” the voice ordered.

V did as he was told, somewhat reluctantly, and he flinched slightly when suddenly Kerry grabbed his hand. Not to hold him back, just to hold on as he followed. The scanner activated, blue lights flashing and surrounding them completely for a few seconds.

“Firearms detected,” the voice said, “Combat cyberware detected.”

“A cyberdeck is classified as a weapon now?” V muttered under his breath as the scan completed.

“Ezaki, Vincent, 28. Fixer, Afterlife-Merc. Ex-Agent, rank III, Arasaka Counterintelligence. ‘King of the Afterlife’, wanted in Night City for - …”

“The fuck, you wanna yell my whole biography across the street?” V complained and almost simultaneously Kerry also started berating the voice.

“Shit, how do you even know - …”

They looked at each other, as the voice continued. Then it dawned on V. He only heard it in his head.

“Fuck me sideways…” Kerry muttered quietly, coming to the same conclusion, “That’s not creepy at all...”

“Scan complete,” the voice said before they could even recover from their realization, “Token verified. Visitor access granted.”

There was a loud click and a thud, and then, like an ancient creature awaking from its slumber, the massive gate crawled open.

“What the fuck was that?” Kerry asked, both of them hesitating to enter.

“Intimidation tactics,” V said sternly.

“If that’s how they treat their guests I don’t wanna know how they treat their enemies,” Kerry mumbled. V wondered if concepts like “friends” and “enemies” really mattered all that much to these people.

“Stay behind me a bit, just in case,” he said, still convinced that any moment now someone would open fire, or snatch Kerry away from him, that he was not wanted here after all. Reluctantly Kerry let go of his hand as they entered the compound, the gate rattling shut behind them again. Mr. B had sprung one of his may traps once more.

A white-tiled path wound its way between coarse dark gravel towards the entrance of the building, framed by freshly planted, synthetic bonsai trees that were all a bit too uniform, too perfect. V and Kerry were not even halfway there when the tall black entrance doors slid open, revealing a sprawling hall beyond. A handful of flat steps led up and into it, and the hair on V’s neck stood up when they stepped inside.

“Got a bad feeling,” Kerry uttered out loud what V was thinking.

Describing the entrance hall as imposing was an under- and overstatement at the same time, somehow. Its dimensions were certainly breathtaking, encompassing at least half of the building’s height and width. A smartglass ceiling projected the endless night sky above them, cosmic clouds swirling between sparkling stars and far solar systems, the logo “Beyond Technologies” floating among the digital nebulas. The darkness of the ceiling was reflected in the black marble flooring, while the indirectly lit walls were white. Decorative silver lines crawled between earth below and sky above, reminiscent of circuit boards. “We reach for the stars” seemed to be the message here, and the first impression was certainly something. Apart from that though, the room was disappointingly empty, almost as if the budget had run out mid-furnishing. No desks, chairs, decorations. No people, either, and the security systems, which certainly existed, were well-hidden. On the inside the building was just as devoid of actual life as its surroundings.

The only outstanding architectural element was a large glass tube housing two separate elevator shafts at the center of the room, the only other visible ways in and out. Just as V had finished the thought, an elevator came into sight from above, within the familiar face of Mr. B.

“That’s him,” V whispered, and Kerry shuffled, whether with unease or to ready himself he was not certain.

The elevator stopped on their level, the door slid open elegantly. Mr. B, dressed in a white blazer combined with sleek, silvery pants today, stepped out towards them.

“So glad you could make it this soon,” he said, tone overly friendly, “Although you look somewhat more roughed-up than Saturday…”

“Nothin’ to do with the gig,” V quickly deflected.

“Didn’t think so,” Mr. B said with a nod. He slowly, steadily walked towards them, but stopped retaining about three yards of distance – respectful or distrustful? Arms behind his straightened back, he held his head high, and blue glowing eyes looked V up and down briefly before wandering to Kerry.

“Mr. Eurodyne,” he hinted a bow, “A true honor and pleasure to meet another Night City legend in person.”

V half expected a snarky response like “wish I could say the same” or “can we just skip the pleasantries and get down to business”, but in fact, Kerry remained quiet. V looked over his shoulder, just to make sure he was still there.

“So, you’re the guy claimin’ he can save V’s life?” Kerry then finally said, the tiniest, most gut-wrenching tremble accompanying his last few words.

Mr. B’s smile grew slightly wider.

“I’m not just claiming it,” he said, oozing confidence.

“How?” Kerry asked promptly, “’Cause - …”

Mr. B raised his hand to stop him, and Kerry scoffed.

“I think it is easier to show you than to explain,” he said, “Follow me, please.”

He half-turned and elegantly gestured towards the elevator. V and Kerry exchanged a quick glance. V could sense Kerry’s nerves, his nausea about this whole situation. Every cell in V’s own body warned him about stepping into that elevator and yet… Was that Johnny’s lingering influence, his aversion to corporations and slimy bastards like Mr. B, or really V’s own instinct speaking? Also, Mr. B seemed surprisingly relaxed about Kerry even being here… V had expected more of a resistance, more hoops to jump through. And now they were invited in just like that?

Mr. B led the way and V and Kerry felt they had no other option but to follow, as if they were being pulled by an invisible leash. There was no way for them to speak, communicate what to do if something went wrong. V did a quick scan of their surroundings as they walked, noting that there really were no doors beyond the entrance and the elevators in this whole cathedral of a room – was this really built just to show off, impress the – presumably – rare visitors?

“After you,” Mr. B said and V stepped into the wide, circular elevator, closely followed by Kerry, glued to his side.

“I know everything is a bit bleak still out here,” Mr. B then said with a glance over his shoulder, right as he joined them. V shivered.

“Not at all, it is impressive,” he flattered, “But yes, you mentioned this building is brand-new?”

Blue-Eyes nodded.

“You are among the first of our… clients to walk within these walls,” he said, “For lack of a better term.”

The doors slid shut with precision. V couldn’t see a control panel, and yet the elevator just seemed to know where they were headed, ascending towards the galaxy ceiling, and then passing through. Remote controlled, probably. Blue-Eyes had to be stock-full of chrome capable of little tricks like that, nothing that impressed V too much just yet.

“Who are your other ‘clients’, apart from people you invest in,” V inquired instead. Unable to hide his curiosity he deliberately used Mr. B’s terminology, even though he’d always hated to be treated as some corporation’s investment. Kerry’s stinging stare was like a knife to his throat, but V kept his eyes on Mr. B as they ascended slowly. The elevator shaft was only see-through on the ground level, further up the futuristic magic of it all was somewhat diminished, replaced with run-of-the-mill skyscraper interior aesthetics.

Mr. B turned to look at V, smile as piercing as his eyes.

“So far it is only people we invest in – in one way or another,” he said.

The elevator came to a halt, the doors slid open again, revealing a long, bright corridor that screamed “lab”. There were doors left and right, but V could not make out identifying markers, nameplates, or anything else to give an indication of what lay behind them as they followed Mr. B to the end of the hallway. The silence, apart from their echoing footsteps, was thick, and V counted the doors, memorizing how far apart they were and approximated how long it would take to run the entire distance to the elevator, how quickly they would be able to find cover.

Mr. B opened the tall white door ahead of them. They entered a large office, its shape followed the curve of the building’s exterior walls, and V roughly knew where they were now. Somewhere above the large garage gate they’d seen from the outside.

The room was about twice the size of V’s old Megabuilding H10 apartment. The entirety of the curved wall was covered in smartglass displaying once more the name “Beyond” on a minimalistic, slightly animated white and silver background. It provided enough illumination to bathe the whole room in soft, almost-natural light. A large white desk sat roughly at the back center of the room, a modern art piece of its own volition. There were two comfortable armchairs for visitors and a large office chair behind it, all white leather. In fact, the whole room was so bright, so white, so immaculately clean that it made V dizzy. As if he’d walked right into the afterlife – the literal one this time, not the bar. And again, apart from the desk and seating, there was nothing else in here. Some modular shelves built into the walls that weren’t covered in screens, but no decoration, no sliver of personality. Smooth, cold, bright, blinding, corpo-chic… in a way, it did make sense after all that this was Mr. Blue-Eyes’ office.

“Please, have a seat,” Mr. B said as he sat down in the office chair. V and Kerry obliged, Kerry still with his hands in his pockets, slumping back, legs spread wide, right one slightly bouncing. He never took his eyes off Mr. B. The latter pulled up a holographic screen in front of him, top-notch tech if V had ever seen any. Arasaka’s collapse was probably what had made the setup of this lab possible in the first place – certainly the security measures, so why not the tech on the inside as well? In a way, V was suddenly thrown back into Jenkins’ office, the many lengthy private meetings either with just V alone or the other agents on his level invited.

“I take it Mr. Eurodyne has been brought up to date on why you’re here today?” Mr. B then asked, catching V completely off guard. Blue-Eyes tapped around on his screen briefly before leaning back in his chair, legs crossed, and hands folded expectantly. Only now Kerry briefly glanced at V.

“Wish I was being brought up to date still if I’m being completely honest,” V said sternly, “I’ve kept my word, no mention of what I did for you until it was done.”

“Who else knows?” was the counter-question.

“No-one that wasn’t directly involved,” V replied fast and truthfully.

Blue-glowing eyes stared him down intensely, certainly equipped with the tech to read intention and recognize lies. But V was a good liar, and in this case, for once, he even told the truth, had nothing to hide. After a couple of moments, Mr. B’s shoulders relaxed somewhat, but V’s heart continued to run a marathon in his chest.

“I’ve left him in the dark long enough. Your turn now,” he added sternly.

Mr. B slightly tilted his head, and his smile returned.

“You remember our conversation at the Afterlife?” he asked, “I promised you something beyond your wildest imagination… An instant and permanent solution to your medical issues.”

He cleared his throat briefly, then continued. V had to force himself to relax his own posture, mirroring Blue-Eyes’ now with his legs crossed, as if they were having a nice dinner date to talk business.

“The way I see it, having known you and your condition for a while now, your problem has always been the one of an alert, bright mind, trapped in a dying body,” Mr. B said, “First it was the Relic slowly killing you, and now it’s the only thing that’s left of your life how it used to be.”

“I wouldn’t go that far,” V shook his head, but he was sick to his stomach hearing what he knew deep down spelled out so clearly, with so little emotion. The doctors they’d dealt with so far had always at least somewhat tried to sugarcoat the facts, usually in medical terms. Or provided them with the same “options” Hellman had already loved to push on him, “options” to consider apart from chasing a cure that didn’t exist.

“You can sense it though, don’t you?” Mr. B continued, leaning forward slightly now, “You should, at this point. Your mind disconnecting itself, slowly but surely, from a host not fitting its specifications anymore.”

“Can you cut it out with that gross tech-jabber?” Kerry interrupted him now, “V’s not some machine, and his body is his body, not a ‘host’, for fuck’s sake.”

Mr. B briefly turned to look at Kerry, keeping up his friendly smile.

“Apologies,” he said, “I do sometimes get caught up in the technical terminology.”

“How do you know all that anyway?” V then asked, trying to maintain his relaxed posture while his head began to throb in pain once more, “The emptiness the… disconnect. Because yes. That’s how I’d put into words what I’m feeling lately. Or… not feeling, rather.”

Blue-Eyes reached out to turn around his screen for V and Kerry to see.

“We were able to get our hands on a lot of very interesting data from Arasaka’s ‘Secure your Soul’ program,” he explained, “It is far from complete, but we have access to a large database containing both simulations and clinical trials with human study participants, for both the original Relic and the Relic 2.0. With what we have, gaps were easy to approximate.”

V scanned through the data on the screen briefly, recognizing some names and information here and there from his own venture into the depths of Arasaka’s labs during that long, dark, awful night back in June.

“The 2.0 never made it to completion though,” V then said, looking up from the terminal, “I’m the first one where it… somewhat worked as intended. Failed successfully. Hellman himself said so.”

“Indeed,” Mr. B nodded, “We were able to secure many notes of Mr. Hellman’s team as well, verifying his concerns on our own time meanwhile, and reaching similar conclusions. In subjects where the Relic malfunctioned or the engram didn’t fully take, even in those otherwise most promising, there was always mentions of a growing numbness, disconnect, distance between engram and host… until the engram eventually malfunctioned and, for lack of a better word, disabled itself.”

“You mean, died,” Kerry said sternly.

“I hope you’re not implying you’ve carried on Hellman’s work…” V asked, his mind racing at the mental image of the basement levels of this building just a whiter, friendlier-looking copy of Arasaka’s labs, while containing the same or even more messed up levels of human experimentation. He did not like Mr. B’s widening, predator-like smile.

“Not in the sense you’re imagining,” he shook his head. But he did not outright deny it either.

V swallowed, he struggled to continue holding eye-contact with Mr. B, when his mind told him “Run. Now!”. Kerry looked back and forth between V and Blue-Eyes tensely, brow heavily furrowed, slowly sliding closer to the edge of his seat.

“Anders Hellman’s focus were the Relic’s architecture and the engrams themselves. Optimizing those two variables to ensure the transferred personalities were as close to their originals as possible,” Mr. B continued, “For Arasaka’s purposes that was a valid concern. Nothing worse than transferring Saburo-sama into a new host body only to have him, well… come back wrong. Not the man, the leader he is. It makes sense.”

He paused, uncrossed his legs, and got up from his chair. He turned to look at the smartglass wall behind them, the slightly pulsating “Beyond” engulfed in digital fog. Then he looked back at V.

“Your concern though, as mentioned, lies in the fact that you’re currently in the wrong kind of host body, which is actively rejecting your psyche.”

“Get to the fucking point, fucking hell,” Kerry muttered and pulled out his cigarettes.

“I’d kindly ask you not to smoke in here,” Mr. B said, tone still friendly, but he looked down on them, towered over them.

“Make me,” Kerry challenged, rummaging for his lighter at the same time, eyes electric and wild.

“Kerry,” V awkwardly placed his injured hand on Kerry’s right thigh in an attempt to soothe him. Only after staring at each other intensely for a couple of moments Kerry stopped searching for his lighter.

“I don’t like where this is going either,” V thought, hoping somehow to convey his conflicting emotions without words. He hated everything about this, but… Mr. B’s promise was his last shot at a life together. At the very least he wanted to hear all details of his offer, even if…

Kerry put his hand on V’s carefully, holding it in place. He understood.

“I know this is a lot to take in at once,” Mr. B then said, “Even more so I am glad to have you both here, as, with how close you are, my solution to your problem will certainly be a concern for each of you to consider.”

V’s stomach twisted at that implication alone. Mr. B tapped around on his screen once more, and a sudden hissing noise behind them made both V and Kerry flinch, then spin around. A previously invisible hatch in the ground slid open, steam rolling in, probably caused by the reaction of some sort of coolant with the nicely air-conditioned office. A large platform began to rise from the ground, on top of it an eerily coffin-shaped and -sized container.

“Here is my offer, my solution, my payment for you, V,” Mr. B said proudly, “And my promise for a bright future ahead.”

V’s heart and thoughts were racing. The platform came to an agonizingly slow halt, locking into place with a metallic thud. The cold steam slowly subsided, and Mr. B walked around the desk passing them, towards the container, until it sat between them. It was built from the same black metal as the gate and fence outside, as the interior of the building beneath the polished white walls and shiny screens.

“Am I gonna regret looking at this?” V asked hesitantly, still glued to his chair, as was Kerry, fingertips digging into the syn-leather.

“I think you have seen worse in your time,” Mr. B smiled, then beckoned him to come over. V rose, slowly, each movement calculated precisely. Step by step, one after the other… his feet barely obeyed him, he had to convince them to move, carry him towards this human-sized pandora’s box.

Kerry remained behind a little while longer but got up as soon as V had reached the platform.

The lid on top of the container was see-through, thick security glass, slightly covered in condensation. The interior was still clearly visible though, illuminated by the same icy light as everything in the building.

V leaned forward, daring a glimpse. He gasped, shuddered at the sight of a body laying inside. Not surprised, he was also not thrilled, but also unable to take his eyes off of it. This was not a random dead person in front of him. It appeared human at first glance, but the longer V looked the more wrong it became. It was hairless, sexless, naked, its facial features weirdly smooth and undefinable, a mannequin made to look human at best… and the worst alternatives would certainly haunt V’s nightmares in the days to come. It appeared sleeping, or dead, arms resting at its sides, its eyelash-less eyes closed. It wasn’t breathing, seemed frozen in place almost, and the container was giving off an icy cold aura.

 “What in the fuck… is that?” V finally managed to ask. Stepping away from the container he bumped into Kerry who had only just reached his side.

“Your means of survival,” Mr. B said as if they were looking at a cartoonishly colorful pill bottle, not a prop from a bad mid-last-century sci-fi horror flick.

“Sorry, but that ain’t quite cutting it as an explanation,” V said, and he was close to reaching the point of slapping the slimy smile out of Mr. B’s face. He kept his cool though, forced himself to breathe slowly.

“Motherfucker, what the hell…” Kerry hissed, now also getting a peek into the futuristic metal-casket, but he quickly withdrew again, “That a fuckin’ corpse or what?”

“What you’re seeing here is a second chance for many people in your situation, V,” Mr. B said, disregarding Kerry’s remark. He placed his hands on the rim of the container’s lid.

“People with a healthy mind that are dying of an incurable disease, whatever it may be. Let down by their own body, all options are exhausted. But they are not yet ready to give up. This is an individual, pain-free solution to live a long, healthy life, in a more natural way than any other modern therapy could offer.”

“Fuck that, nothin’ ‘bout that thing’s natural,” Kerry grumbled, and once more, Mr. B raised a hand to stop him, calm him down. Kerry glared, then he turned to V.

“You’re seeing how fucked up this is, right?”

V’s own heartbeat was so loud, he barely heard Kerry’s voice.

“This is more natural than your body is at this stage, Mr. Eurodyne,” Mr. B said, then paused briefly, “No offense.”

Kerry froze, biting his tongue certainly sharp with an angry retort.

“What exactly is it, even?” V then slowly asked, but still didn’t dare to look back inside the container, “Some kinda… RealSkinn-covered cyborg? A new kinda total body conversion, a clone, or what?”

“Neither, not quite,” Mr. B shook his head. He looked down into the coffin, bright light from within reflected in his eyes, illuminating his pale face. Then he took half a step back again and sought V’s gaze.

“This is the product of years of trial and error, research and optimization, many failures,” he began to explain, “A blank canvas comes closest maybe to what it is exactly. No conversion, but a replacement. A biological body, with slight… enhancements. It needs food, sleep, exercise, grows hair, ages, can get aroused, sick, injured, bleeds, and it will eventually die… everything a ‘natural’ body would do as well. This is not immortality, but life. The body can be pre-equipped with top-tier synthetic organs, an operating system, interface plugs, personal link, and any other cyberware the client wishes for or is used to. With the great benefit that, since the body ‘naturally’ comes with these enhancements, cyberpsychosis is almost no concern anymore, for example. On its own though it cannot survive. It needs to be equipped with a conscience first.”

“Not so ‘natural’ after all then…” Kerry muttered under his breath.

“No offense,” V said, “That’s all nice and well but…”

“You can’t see yet how this would help you in your situation?” Mr. B asked. V grinned.

“That thing’s ugly as fuck,” he said, “Adam Smasher was a beauty pageant winner in comparison.”

Mr. B chuckled, but his eyes remained coldly fixated on him.

“Can I just pick a nice faceplate to slap on, too, together with all the other fancy chrome you can stuff in there?”

“Oh, far from it, V,” Mr. B said, raising his head triumphant, “This body can be yours as much – or even more so – than your current one is.”

He walked to the lower end of the container, tapping onto a small panel there. V was momentarily scared the creepy flesh-mannequin would now wake up and emerge, to secure its spot in the top three of messed up things he’d seen this year. Instead, though, the glass panel atop the container flickered, like a screen being turned on.

“No need to be afraid,” Mr. B smiled.

“I’m not,” V quickly retorted, almost believing himself.

“Come closer, have a look.”

V swallowed, then slowly stepped forward again. When he looked in the container, his heart stopped. He looked at his own face, asleep, dead, frozen in this weird state of stasis.

“What the… a projection?” he realized as he tried to process this visual still.

“To give you an idea of what’s possible,” Mr. B nodded.

And indeed, it was still the same, blank, doll-like body, just with his face and hair projected onto it. Kerry slowly approached again as well, staring into the container speechlessly.

“The body will be yours not only in a biological sense,” Mr. B explained, “We use your DNA’s structure as a basis to shape the genetic aspects. From skin- and hair color down to individual freckles.”

The projection slightly adjusted, beginning to resemble V more and more. Describing the visuals as “bizarre” was not nearly strong enough an emotion to fit V’s thoughts and feelings in this moment.

“But we can also modify every aspect to your liking, create an ‘ideal’ you, far from what modern medicine and modifications could currently achieve in an already existing body.”

V didn’t even have to ask for clarification when the appearance of the body’s chest changed, top surgery scars gone as if they’d never existed… and its genitals definitely were different from what V was used to seeing when he looked down, when he scrutinized himself in the mirror on a bad day. He shuddered, with intrigue, horror, disgust, curiosity alike.

“You’re saying… you’re remaking my body from scratch, and ‘better’, basically…”

He barely managed to get the words out, his throat tight and dry, his stomach unhappy with the mere thought.

“Not better,” Mr. B said, marketing-voice in full action, “However you want it, whatever you wish it to be like.”

Next, V’s neck cyberware appeared on the projection, then his tattoos, in surprising detail. Even Johnny’s stupid love-heart… V didn’t want to ask or even know just how they got all of this down so accurately.

“Okay okay,” V said and stepped back from the container, before the nausea of seeing himself lying in that coffin, kind of dead-looking, got the better of him, “You got a new body for me, alright. But how do you get me in there? And…”

His breath hitched at a grim realization.

“What happens… to this body? My… real body?”

Mr. B blinked slowly, raised his eyebrows, then turned off the projection. Only the blank body base from the beginning remained in the container.

“Your new body will be more real, more you, than this one is at this stage,” he said calmly, gesturing in V’s direction, “It will be healthy, free of old trauma, and equipped with the tech to safely contain your mind and memories without the option of someone – accidentally or willingly – turning the lights off by removing the Relic from your neck slot. I hate to say it, but your current body is your greatest weakness, V, riddled with exploits. You will not need it anymore, as it is only holding you back from using your full potential.”

V's head began to spin wildly, midway through Mr. B’s explanations.

“Vince…” Kerry, who had kept himself in the background for the last couple of minutes, reached out to support him, hand firm on V’s back.

“So… what, I gotta… You’ll run me through Soulkiller again, or what?” V asked, trying to sort his racing thoughts as he spoke.

“In a way, yes,” Mr. B said, but he might as well just have punched V in the gut, “We are currently looking into creating our own version of the algorithm, a more… gentle approach. The problem of engrams created with Arasaka’s Soulkiller has always been, to more or less of a degree of severity, their emotional stuntedness. We would want to avoid a further decrease in authenticity for this transferal.”

“And my body is just… It will die?”

“It is dying this very moment,” Mr. B said, without a hint of sympathy in voice or expression, but a flat matter-of-factness striking V at the very core, “And it will take your mind along with it, if we don’t act soon.”

“Hold up, hold up,” Kerry said, his fingers digging into V’s bruised side, making him flinch, but he leaned into the touch, into Kerry for support, “Didn’t you just say you’re still working on… how to even get him into this new body?”

“Yes, and we are almost ready,” Mr. B nodded, “A few days, at most. And for the time being, we also have the option – just an option, no must – to slow down the decay. A medically induced coma, in laymen’s terms. You go to sleep in this, and wake up in your new body, without noticing anything in-between, ideally.”

“Ideally…” V repeated weakly.

“V?” Kerry said quietly, urgence in his voice. V slowly turned away from the container to look at Kerry. His eyes were wide and worried, he looked him up and down briefly. Beads of cold sweat ran down the small of V’s back, his legs were numb, his hands clammy.

“I think I need some fresh air,” was all he managed to say, trying to hold Kerry’s gaze but failing, grabbing his arm now as his head grew heavier by the minute.

“Of course. It is a lot to take in at once,” Mr. B said. With that and a loud clank the body container started to slowly disappear into the floor again, locked away behind shiny white tiling, like a well-hidden dirty little secret.

“Let me accompany you outside,” Mr. B suggested, and now it was Kerry to raise his hand at him.

“We’ll manage, thanks,” he said, mimicking Blue-Eyes’ overly friendly tone.

“As you wish,” Mr. B nodded, opening the office door for them at least, “As I said, at the latest in a few days we are ready to receive you here, but you can come in any time from now on to get the procedure started. It’s the least we can do to ensure your wellbeing for the future, V. That you even get to see a future… both of you together.”

“Sure, thanks,” V said tersely, Mr. B’s voice muffled and distant as Kerry half-dragged, half-pushed him out of the office, through the endlessly long white hallway with mystery-doors left and right. The open elevator awaited them, miraculously took them to the ground floor without them having to push any buttons or even say a word.

“We’re outta here in a moment, don’t worry. It’s all good,” Kerry said, hands cupping V’s face, but every time their eyes met, V reflexively looked away at the stinging flash of blue.

The elevator doors snapped open, and V and Kerry marched across the huge, empty, echoing entrance hall to the already open exit. The sun had almost set when they stepped outside onto the flawless path ahead, sand and street dust swirling across the courtyard. V stumbled down the steps by the entrance, almost pitched forward, breath shaky, knees trembling. For a moment he thought he’d be able to regain his composure, taking a few deep breaths… but his headache, the nausea that had been riddling him the whole time they’d spent in that building, took over. Right on Mr. B’s doorstep, between neatly trimmed fake bonsai trees, V puked his guts out onto the pristine white marble tiles.

*****************

>> Next Chapter

*****************

Notes:

Last time there was smut, and now here's the promised angst... HHHH I was really really nervous about posting this, cause we're entering straight-up sci-fi territory now and my Cyberpunk lore knowledge is not as deep as I would like it in some regards sometimes XD But yeah... V's problem is, his body's letting him down, is dying... time for a new one right? Simple! Easy!

What would you do in his situation? I'm honestly curious (as I'm unsure how I would even feel like xD)!

I hope you enjoyed reading this, I think this was the longest chapter so far... and the angst will continue for a bit next time but maybe... maybe (I'm really not 100% certain yet, depends really on how V and Kerry are gonna behave XD), we'll have a little cameo of someone coming up soon 👀

Requested Fic Update Tags:

@humberg @r3d-f0x-blog @thatinternetwanderer @localtranspigeon @xtaiyo  @kharonion  @genocidalfetus  @seeker-of-truth 💜

If you’d also like to get tagged when I post a new chapter for this fic, leave a reply on [this post] or send me a DM!

If you do not want to receive further notifications, shoot me a quick DM and I’ll take you off the list again!

[candied-boys]

Luke's POV x F! Reader - Part 2

Warning: Dark Content!

Including but not limited to references to prostitution, child neglect and abuse, war and death, PTSD, flashbacks, nightmares, suicidal ideation, and historically accurate ages for relations. The dark content is almost entirely drawn from/same as Luke's route.

Themes: protection, hurt and comfort, mutual healing, learning to trust, letting yourself feel, and eventually giving into love. Everything is written from Luke's POV.

Part 1

Still sleepin’ eh? Must be tired from all she's been through these last few days. Guess I'll work on the chemise ‘til she wakes up…

Laying the fresh bread aside and spreading the newly bought fabric across the table, you begin patterning out a simple shift — front, back, two sleeves and two gussets — all from a single length of linen. A trifle given that you've been sewing your own garments since you were a child.

As you begin to absentmindedly stitch the bodice together, your thoughts drift back to last night. By the time you had managed to stem her tears there were only a few hours left until daybreak. Too riled up to fall asleep and too little time to bother forcing it with medicine, you instead sat by the crackling logs and contemplated what you'd gotten yourself into.

I already saw men from the brothel skulkin’ ‘round the neighbourhood this mornin’, just waitin’ for her to come out alone. I could scare ‘em off easy enough, but if I let her go back out there now, her old man’ll probably just sell her again. That's if the bastard found her first. When his moneylender hears she's been freed, no doubt he'll be after her too.

Yet you know you can't keep her here long. The second you complete your mission you'll finally be free from this empty shell of a body.

But there ain't nowhere she could go right now that could guarantee her safety except a nunnery, but those institutions are no better than the tyrannical nobles and royals we're forced to obey. The only difference is they make you swear a life of poverty along with unquestionin’ obedience. I didn't free her from prostitution just to send her to a religious prison. There's gotta be somethin’ else…

An hour or more passes while you're lost in thought until the gentle rustle of sheets draws your eyes from the seam between your fingers to the huddle of blankets she sits curled up under.

“Mornin’ sleepyhead,” you coax gently, noting the fear lingering in her gaze and posture. “Y’ hungry?”

She nods once, cautious and timid.

“Lemme just finish this up so y’ve somethin’ decent to wear and I'll fix breakfast.”

While you stitch the gussets into the sleeves her eyes trail cautiously around the unfamiliar room. From the fireplace in the corner and the cauldron hung there to the dresser behind her and the single item that sits atop it.

Her gaze lingers on the scruffy purple teddy bear, threadbare and patched, but she says nothing. To your relief, neither does she attempt to touch it. By the time you've finished up one arm, her attention has waned, now shifted to her feet. Again, she doesn't dare speak; she simply stares down at the socks hiding numerous bandages.

“Here y’ are,” you tell her in a hushed tone trying not to startle her from her daze. “I won't look while y’ change. I'll be over there cookin' breakfast, eh?”

A frantic nod is her only reply.

You busy yourself throwing leftover bits of smoked ham, cheese, milk, and eggs into the ceramic pot before placing it over the coals of last night's fire. With only one spoon and one fork you'll have to wait for the custard to thicken enough to use either utensil.

“Thank you… Luke,” you just barely hear a strained whisper over the fire.

As you turn around you see her wince when her feet touch the floor.

“Oh. Stay there a sec’.”

Shoving the table towards the bed you arrange it in front of her so she need not stand. Most of the cuts seemed shallow last night, but you'll have to watch for infection when you redress them. Heaven only knows what's on the floor of that brothel.

“Better?”

She nods, the look she wears not a smile by any stretch of the imagination, but not nearly as fearful as when she woke up.

“The chemise fit y’ alright?” you ask over your shoulder as you move back to the hearth.

“Yes. I'm sorry.”

“Hm? What for?”

“You had to go to so much trouble because of me. I'm not good for much other than cooking and looking after livestock… but I promise I'll try to pay you back somehow…”

Grabbing your only bowl, you fill it with your favourite pick-me-up. “I told y’, y’ don't have to earn y’r keep here, Honey,” you frown and hand her the drink.

“But…”

“Listen. I'm not a good guy, but that doesn't mean I'm some creep who wants to use y’ either. Nobody belongs in a place like that, but not many can be helped once they're in the thick of it… There was no reason to let y’ get dragged into that living hell…”

Not when y're so young and innocent like she was… Not when it could’ve been prevented…

With a reluctant nod she takes a cautious sip of your offering and the tension in her brow melts with the warmth.

“Good?” you query with satisfaction.

“Yes. What is it?”

“Warm milk and wild honey. It's good for calming the nerves. I've never met a problem honey can't fix.”

While you set the custard on the table and slice the bread thick to use in place of plates, she asks nervously, “So… what are you going to do with me if you don't actually want me…”

“Dunno yet. Y’ can't stay here forever, but if y’ try to start workin’ somewhere in town sometime soon I'm sure y'll end up back where y’ were last night. What with y’r old man owin’ as much as he does he'll no doubt haul y’ off and sell y’ again.”

By the time you look up from the cutting board you're too late to stop the tears that have pooled in her empty eyes from rolling down her cheeks. Hurriedly taking a seat on the bed next to her, you grab the milk from her shakey hands before it ends up on the floor and pull her into your arms right after.

You don't know what it's like to be sold by your own family, but the mere thought reminds you too much of growing up despised, losing the only thing you held dear in an instant, being hauled off half dead to an orphanage in another country, and learning quickly that you would only be as valued as you proved useful.

“Hey, hey. It's okay. Y're safe here. Y're never goin’ back there. It must’ve been terrifyin’, I know. I know,” you coo and stroke her back.

Beneath the thin chemise you can feel the welts where she was beaten and you remember the rope burn around her wrists.

“Y've been through a lot. It's okay to cry, but y’ don't have to be scared.”

From under your chin she slurs with a sob, “But where will I go? I'll never be safe! I promise I'll work hard! Please don't kick me out!”

“I'm not gonna throw y’ out, Honey. Look at me.”

Prying her up by the chin you make her meet your stern gaze.

“I'm not gonna do nothin’ that would put y’ back in danger. I'm gonna protect y’ ‘cause that's my responsibility after bringing y’ here last night. I chose this. Y’ don't have to trust me, and y're free to leave whenever y’ want. But ‘til we find y’ a new life where y’ can be safe I'm not abandonin’ y’, okay?”

Bottom lip trembling she looks anything but convinced, but in her riled up state nobody would hear reason. Who knows when the last time she ate was. So you keep one arm around her and reach for the spoon.

“C’mon. Let's get some breakfast into y’ ‘fore it gets cold,” you coax and bring a bite to her mouth.

When she meekly accepts the offer you're quick to reward her with praise. “Good girl. Think y’ can eat by y’rself?”

Though she takes the spoon, you stay at her side and keep her in your embrace until you've both polished off your bread and eggs. With a warm meal inside her she certainly looks less gaunt. When you rise to clear the table you hear her ask timidly if she could wash the dishes.

“Maybe when y’r feet’ve healed and y’ can stand without pain, hm?”

Wrapping your patchwork quilt around her once more and curling her knees into her chest again she watches you tidy up.

“What's all that?” she queries so quietly you almost can't hear her over the rustle of the fabric you're busy spreading out over the floor.

“Wool for y’r dress,” you answer over your shoulder as you begin patterning out the pieces with chalk.

“Hope y’ don't mind the colour. I got yellow ‘cause I figured the bright colour might cheer y’ up.”

“I've… never had new clothes…”

“It won't be nothin’ fancy, but it'll at least be comfortable.”

“Thank… you…”

She sits in silence after that, looking on while you cut out the pieces from the yards of fabric. Only when you start backstitching the bodice together does she speak again.

“How did you learn to sew so well?”

“When y’ live on y’r own y’ learn how to do everythin’. I make all my own clothes. This little guy too,” you answer and nudge the tiny bear tied to your holster.

You catch a glimmer of light in her eyes for the first time as she stares at the creature dangling from your chest.

“Did you make the one over there too?” she asks and looks at the worn out teddy sitting on your dresser.

“Yeah,” you answer quickly and immediately change course. “Can y’ sew?”

“Um… Sort of... I've never patterned, but I can patch.”

“Can y’ baste the skirt?”

She nods hesitantly and you pass her the length of vibrant colour.

The morning ebbs into noon quietly, words only exchanged as needed, yet with every passing hour you notice she seems more at ease than the last. Her features soften as her focus shifts from internal anxieties to keeping her stitches even.

“There's still some fabric left. You want a bonnet to match or somethin’?” you ask when you finish attaching the skirt to the bodice.

“Actually… could I have a little bear?” she replies, her knees once again up in her chest.

“You don't want somethin’ to match the dress?”

Apprehensively balling herself up tighter, like you might lash out at her for wanting something else, she mumbles, “Um... A little bear would be much nicer to hold at night.”

Comfort and protection…

That was the story Leyla told you of the bear who helped the lost girl in the woods…

That was all she ever asked for… and you couldn't even manage that in the end…

“Sure, I'll make it after lunch?” you offer, a mix of emotions hazing over your eyes.

A sheepish smile from behind her knees is her single reply.

Part 3

[maskyartist]

hey genshin fans i wanna draw a couple characters in these outfits-

but i need a better angle of em, anyway yall could lemme know who these two are so i can look up if they got full art or smth?

[thehighladywrites]

— “Okay, but in what way do you love me?”

☀︎ — pairing: tutor/nerd azriel x bimbo/ditzy reader

☀︎ — summary: It’s confession time! Last night you said you like him but over analyzing azriel needs to know exactly what “like” means.

☀︎ — warnings: 18+, mdni, smut, confessions, creampie, fluff, azriel needs clarification even though you are VERY clear

☀︎ — amara’s note: pls enjoy and lemme know what u think💗 also sorry for it being short it’s only bc i’m posting another drabble very soon, and it’s a personal favorite 👀💗

series masterlist

“Why are you staring at me, Az? Is there something on my face?” you ask panicked as you grab your hand mirror on his desk and check your flawless face

Azriel's gaze softens as he speaks, “No, there's nothing on your beautiful face. I just like looking at you. And, I want to ask you something.”

You exhale calmly, pleased with your appearance, as you turn your body towards him, jewelry jangling.

His stomach feels leaden, and he feels nauseous. What if your version of "like" and his version of "like" aren't the same? What if you say you like him, but only in a friendly way? What if this was all lust and you only wanted to fuck him? What if by “like” you meant you liked the sex?

You are miles out of his league, but he's not complaining. You actually make him happy and mushy when you call and ask him to go on little shopping trips with you, and it’s even better when you let him fuck your brains out from time to time. But he is in love, like deeply fucking in love.

“Okay. Do you recall—remember yesterday when you said you liked me? Do you want to clarify what that means? Why do you like me?”

The question makes you tilt your head in confusion, brows drawing in curiosity as you pull the strawberry-flavored lollipop from your mouth, resulting in a loud pop, lips covered in a thin layer of sticky, red residue.

“Wait, huh? What do you mean, Azzie? I don’t like you, I love you.”

Oh my fucking god, what? Okay, so he was literally about to throw the fuck up but he was a little hesitant to respond. Azriel couldn't help but think about the meaning behind your words. You were always so bubbly and affectionate, even with strangers. Did your "I love you" hold the same weight every time, or was it just another sprinkle of your charm?

“Okay, I hear you but in what way do you love me? Do you mean it as a friend or—?” He questions behind his glasses.

Azriel had, for the first time ever, brought you to his dorm. You were just laying in bed next to him but decided to straddle his lying body, smiling as his hands automatically held your thighs.

“No silly! I loooove you and I want you to be my boyfriend. You’re so hot and sweet and kind and you care about me, like a lot. Always keepin’ me outta trouble and kissing me too. You love me too tho, right?” You gaze down at him, your big doe eyes shimmering with hope, and your glossy bottom lip slightly quivering.

Love you? He was almost insanely obsessed with you. There was something about you that drove him crazy. How could he not love you? He gives you an assuring nod, all of your previous worries disappearing in an instant. “Yeah, I do. I love you too. So much.”

“That’s so adorable, gimme a kiss.” You puckered your lips, the sweet scent of your sweet Burberry Her Elixir filling his senses.

He tries to remove his glasses, but you stop him with a swat. “No, keep ‘em on,” you insist between kisses.

—

To no one’s surprise you were bent over his desk, getting fucked stupid as he made you list what you loved about him.

Maybe it was a little mean since you couldn’t focus, your fuzzy brain filled with pleasure, but Azriel wanted to know anyway.

“more,” he gasps, “n-need more—gimme more, sweetheart.”

So you did, saying everything you loved about him. Every single detail.

“I love it when you make me breakfast— fuck, and—and when you carry me whenever i want. ‘m so close, az,” you sob—and then, just as his thumb finds your clit again, rubbing desperate little circles to get you over the edge, you cum — harder than ever, spasming around his cock and pulling him in as you squeeze around him.

“a-azzie,” you gasp brokenly, “fuck, ‘s good—so good.”

“you’re so perfect. prettiest girl i’ve laid my fucking eyes on —prettiest pussy ever too. i, sh-shit—” he falls into his own orgasm, hot, thick ropes of cum spilling into you with every twitch of his cock, sweet little noises pulled from his throat that he sighs into your neck, fucking his load into you.

“Holy shit,” Azriel mutters before he kisses the back of your head, the biggest trail of cum he’s ever seen leaking out of you when he pulls out.

“I wanna go again, please Az, let—let me ride. I’ll tell you more things I love,” you lock eyes with him over your shoulder, a smirk playing at your lips.

Azriel obviously doesn’t deny. He’s happy someone for once in his life wants to tell him how much they love him. Especially when that someone is his first and last girlfriend💗.

🏷️: @ithan-holstroms-girl @whatdoyxumean @honeybeeboobaa @to-be-written @sidthedollface2 @stasiereads @andrewgarfield2022 @amara-moonlight @thescooby-gang @linoisqt @mischiefmanagers @tortured-artists @dwlyniii @scooobies @harryshoobies69 @caroline-books @kalulakunundrum @meshelleexplosionmurder @danikamariewrites @clairebear08 @redbleedingrose @jeannineee @rowaelinsdaughter @nocasdatsgay @v3lv3tf0x @liati2000 @teenageeggscissorslawyer @impossibelle @stonerpersona @dreamlandreader @djaaaa @callmeblaire @thelov3lybookworm @polli05927 @ahitsalyssa @evergreenlark @thegirlintheshadows101 @saltedcoffeescotch @acourtofladydeath @acourtofwhatthefuck @readychilledwine @daycourtofficial @azriels-shadowsinger @sapphicmsmarvel @hungryforbatboys @justasillylittlegoofyguy @luvmoo @emryb @meritxellao @mochibabycakes @artists-ally @azzieslittlebunny @viatorem-maris @berryzxx @riddlesb1tch @sweetshifter

[gunslinginnhogtyin]

Gabriel’s reaction to Butch paying one of his piercings special attention didn’t go unnoticed by him. It was amusing to him how Gabe didn’t seem to know what he wanted until he went and did something like that. Now, all of a sudden, Gabriel knew what he wanted more of… the cowboy just had to draw it out of him was all and he would keep that in mind, too. The werecat would get all the attention he so craved and then some.

“Heh… I thought you were ready t’get down to business?” Butch teases, hand palming at that bulge in the others cute little shorts. “Don’t worry that pretty little head’a yers… I’ll make sure you get everythin’ you want…”

That hand of his continues to rub at the others groin while the other hooks one of Gabe’s legs over his shoulder. He brings his lips to that thigh, laying soft kisses that dissolve into nips and suckles—he wanted to bruise that beautiful milky skin of Gabriel’s, just so he could see those marks on himself later and remember just what they had done.

Brushing his lips along Gabriel’s inner thigh, his head is growing dangerously close to the heat of his desire… he draws himself away after a moment and sits up, momentarily appreciating the sprawled mess Gabriel had become in such a short span of time. Moving that leg off of his shoulder, his fingers dip beneath the edge of the others shorts and he begins peeling them off, eager to see the excitement beneath.

“S’cute as these things are on ya… I think you’d look much better without ‘em.” He purrs, chewing on his lower lip as he slides them down the others legs. Excitement burns in his lower stomach as he tosses the undergarments aside and gets a good look at all of Gabe. Leaning forward, he plucks that lubricant from Gabe’s grasp and unscrews the cap, squeezing some of it into his hand and then he sets it aside, making sure it's close.

“Now yer gonna keep lookin’ all pretty for me, alright? An’ I’m gonna make sure you get exactly what you want… my little pillow princess…“ He croons, leaning over Gabe once more, eyeing his expression should anything become painful. Keeping those legs nice and spread for him, a slick middle finger presses against the other man’s entrance, rubbing experimentally at first before pushing just an inch or so inside. His other hand is palm down at Gabe's side as he brings himself closer in order to press a soft kiss to the others lips, parting momentarily only to speak.

“Alright, jus’ lemme know if it’s ever too much an' I'll stop… gotta stretch ya out a bit.” A surprisingly soft smile he gives Gabriel despite his mind being absolutely filled with dirty thoughts. Wow… he was… very tight. Just like he knew he would be. This was a dangerous game they were playing, lord grant him strength! His face flushes red as he pushes that finger just a tad deeper inside of the other man, coating his inner walls with that lubricant and after a moment, once he’s sure Gabe has had a chance to adjust, he adds a second finger, keeping the movements steady and slow.

Though this situation was similar to the one way back when, to say that Gabriel's heart was racing at the thought of being on the receiving end was an understatement. In all honesty, he was surprised it wasn't popping out of his chest with how hard it was thundering beneath his ribcage just laying beneath Butch for his viewing pleasure.

... And that soft chuckle didn't help at all, but it was clear that it wasn't meanspirited whatsoever, so Gabriel wasn't worried about it. In fact, he actually liked the blonde's laughs, chuckles, giggles--all those sorts of noise. His heart always did some funny little thing each time!

However... this wasn't a funny situation at all.

At finally losing his jeans with some help from Butch, Gabriel couldn't help but sigh softly. In a way, it felt like he could breathe a little better, but it was more along the things of now not feeling so restricted below the waist. The cost, however, was the revealing of his green shorts, and he doesn't miss the expression that slipped onto Butch's face as he stared. Did he ... like this? He'd picked the color himself ... !

Swallowing a bit when the blonde came closer into his personal space, Gabriel is content to watch the way Butch stripped down a bit more before those calloused hands return to the Werecat. A bit of a grin curled up the right corner of Gabriel's lips when his shirt was pushed up. Heh.

HOWEVER, his blush returned--and quite fiercely at that--when his legs were spread just so that Butch had the room to really settle between them and lean even closer much to Gabriel's delight. Butch usually smelled really good, and being so close, it was like being surrounded by the blonde's scent. Surprise fluttered in his stomach shortly afterwards, not used to his chest being kissed--but Butch had a habit of kissing wherever he pleased (which the Werecat didn't mind at all)--yet when his tongue came into play because he was getting really close to his--

"F--Fuck...!"

Gabriel sucked his teeth in surprise, arching up a bit as a fresh wave of warmth rose upon his face as that tongue--this was something people DID?!--traced his NIPPLE of all places before blunt teeth bite down and gently tug at the piercing, enhancing the sensation two fold.

Oh, oh, shit, he--definitely, definitely like that--and yet he was fucking moving ON! God-fucking-damnit! Thankfully, Butch resumed kissing and feeling him up with his free hand which caused Gabriel's stomach to go all fluttery again in response. What was it about Butch's kisses ... ?

Green eyes resume watching the other man's downward descent and squirmed just a bit when those eyes snapped up to stare back at him.

D--Damn, what was this feeling? What the fuck--nnn, wait, his fucking hand--

The unexpected but pleasant--and very, very welcome--surprise of Butch hand's finding the very obvious tent in his short before giving it a playful squeeze in response had sharp teeth biting down into his lower lip. His legs spread a bit more, but he couldn't help snorting softly at the question.

"You're the one driving me fuckin' crazy with your mouth. You licked my goddamn chest--why couldn't you stay there for a bit?? Shit..." There was so much he wanted all of a sudden, but would he even survive to get what he actually wanted in the first place? Butch was making it so difficult for him, but in a good way ... if that made sense.

[tenshindon]

could never rp i would just laugh halfway through that shit

[yoichichi]

Their Favorite Place to Kiss You

warning(s): none

a/n: I just feel like they needed something sweet damnit :( i love them that’s all - my inbox is always open :)

characters: mikasa, armin, levi, hange, eren, connie, sasha, jean, zeke, & reiner

Mikasa

Your eyelids

Mikasa has always been on the more soft spoken side when it comes to intimacy, sometimes she finds it’s even hard to reach out and hold your hand. She often opts for brushing her knuckles against yours and just hopes you get the gist. But when you’re asleep it’s different. She gets to reach out and run her fingertips delicately across your face and it gives her the perfect opportunity to lean in and press feather light kisses to your closed eyes, and she always hopes her love is strong enough that her affection communicates into your dreams. Please give this shy angel all the love :,(((

Armin

Your cheek

It’s just the purest way for him to show you he’s listening and cares really :(! You’ll be on a date and he’s holding your hand and he’ll just lean on over and place a little smooch there while he’s got this little smile going on, before he tells you to continue with your story, “I’m listening sweetie.” It was also the way he hyped himself up to be more physical with you as the relationship progressed. Baby boy was a little nervous for your first kiss so he worked himself up to it by acting all sly and leaving the gentlest of gentlest kisses on your soft skin. He also loves kissing any birth marks or freckles you may have on your face, they just draw his attention so much and he finds them so cute he has to leave some sort of appreciation for them. And now, kissing your cheek/face has just become his favorite place to leave hellos and goodbyes. It’s even better when he can feel your cheeks get plump from the way you smile when he leaves a kiss.

Levi

Your hands

He has a nasty habit of overworking himself and pushing his body to the limits physically. Staying up late and depriving himself of sleep, hunching over a desk and straining his eyes from all the reading and work, getting frequent headaches from how strong his focus has been - usually meaning he’s forgotten to drink enough water that day. It all takes toll in his tired eyes and the sore muscles in his body, the ones most tense in his upper back. The only good that comes from this is how easy it makes it to strip him away from work if need be. Just running your hands up his back to knead at the muscle between his shoulders and neck has him sighing and closing his eyes, reaching a hand up to grab onto one of yours and place thankful kisses along your knuckles. Now you’ve successfully convinced him to lay in bed while you softly run your hands over his face and body, only stopping when he grabs them to place more kisses. He hopes it’s good enough at showing you how grateful he is for you in his life <3

Hange

Your forehead

They call you their little stroke of genius always and this just kind of seals the deal for them teehee. Whenever they get any kind of idea - good, bad, small, big, dangerous, you name it - they’re placing a kiss on your forehead and hollering before they run off to execute said idea. You have an idea and they’re praising you on how smart you are while they kiss you repeatedly there, kind of like they’re your older, invasive relative or something. It’s also their favorite way to greet you whether it’s them coming home or waking you up first thing in the morning. It’s just always the perfect blank space for them to lay their love on you and get your attention. And if you have a big forehead they’ll mention how it gives them more space to love up on hehehehehe <3

Eren

Your neck

Cuddly boy, cuddly boy! He loves bothering you and trying to get your attention, and he finds it’s the easiest when he has his face buried in your neck and leaving wet kisses there. He also finds it’s such a versatile place for affection. If he’s feeling clingy, he can come up from behind and wrap his arms around you while he whines into the crook of your neck demanding you pay attention to him by kissing or blowing raspberries there until you’re giggling and giving in. When he’s sleepy and cuddling he can stretch his face up to whisper into your neck about heading to bed and finalizing his wish with a soft peck - barely even a kiss. If he’s in a mood it’s certainly an easy place to convince you to join him. And if he’s just feeling soft - which is almost always - he has no problem in smiling into that spot between your neck and shoulder and giving little love bites or any form of attention there. He’s just a clingy boy and it’s the easiest way to get what he wants - and hide how red his face can get from you.

Connie

The top of your head

It’s a funny thing he’s started doing in passing moments that’s just made his days so much brighter. You two will be bustling about in the kitchen cooking dinner and when you pass by him he just has to grab the sides of your face and reach over to kiss the top of your head with an obnoxious mwah to top it off. Or if he’s dropping you off he obviously has to reach over the middle console to pull your head aggressively towards him to leave another silly kiss - he likes it even more when you act “annoyed” with him over it. But it isn’t always silly, he finds it a really good way to let you know he hasn’t forgotten about how sweet you are to him. You’ll be laying in his chest while you two watch a movie and he’ll lean down to leave a long and quiet kiss into your hair, reminding you of his fondness.

Sasha

Your lips

It’s such a simple but sweet place to kiss! Nothing makes her happier than leaning in and giving a quick peck before she’s off to her busy day, her nose usually bumping into yours cause she’s being a little too quick about it, but it never fails to make you all giddy when you feel her smile against your lips. It’s also her favorite time to kiss you after you’ve had something sweet. First she just wiped the corner of your mouth with her thumb to collect the sticky syrup that collected there from your breakfast a few minutes prior, sucking the sweetness from the finger and humming to herself. Next it was replaced with a simple kiss to the corner of your mouth or wherever you had yet to clean up a crumb - sometimes her tongue would innocently dart out to get a better taste. Finally it became just a regular sweet kiss, even happier than before, when she could still taste the honey in your mouth from the biscuits you’d made for lunch.

Jean

Your shoulders

He adores running his hands up and down your arms and it just goes so well with leaving a few light kisses at the top of your shoulders. He also feels like it’s such an intimate part of the body in that for him to place a kiss there means he’s physically close to you in a way he treasures immensely. Like when he embraces you in a long, warm hug for whatever reason, getting to bend down and leave a long sensual kiss placed there feels so serious to him, even if you’re ticklish and it has you giggling. There’s just something so serene for him when he’s able to feel that calm and close with you that he always finds himself compelled to lean over and even crane his neck to remind you how special you are to him with a shoulder kiss. What can I say, he just loves em!

Zeke

Your thighs

It seems like he’s ALWAYS passed out with his head in your lap. He says it’s not his fault but yours because you’re the one who always lets him rest his head there when he’s home from work, running your fingers through his hair. How is he supposed to stay awake when you’re doing that? And don’t get him started on how you run your thumb over his brow bone and down the bridge of his nose before going back up and starting again. It’s like you want him to take a nap on your thighs! Which you kinda do cause it’s the only time you get to see this mf relaxed and quiet in your presence if he’s not reading or doing some other nerd shit. He always makes sure to press sweet kisses to the tops of them when he wakes up, along with chuckling and tickling you with his scruff. He also likes to give you massages when you’re laying in bed which always somehow leads to him rubbing your calf’s while he closes his eyes and gently kisses the soft skin on your inner thighs. He’s just a sucker for em and you can’t tell me otherwise!

Reiner

Your back

Oh this guy :( He’s a chronic big spoon, no matter your size. It’s just always so soothing for you to be in his arms with his hands resting at your tummy, sometimes absentmindedly kneading the soft skin there as he falls asleep. But he never stays that way, he ends up naturally scooting down throughout the night so when he wakes up his face is nuzzled into the middle of your back with his arms wrapped even tighter around your midsection. You can always tell when he wakes up by the soft flutter of his eyelashes against your skin and the tightening squeeze on your torso, followed by soft open mouth kisses up your spine and all over your shoulder blades. Of course the way he whispers, “hi”, into your ear once he’s reached the top let’s you know, too.

this made me so unbelievably soft omfg. I just felt like we needed some soft content and I’ve been missing them :((( if you guys like this and would want it I can make a pt.2 with some characters I didnt include in this one :)! Jus lemme know if it’s something you guys would want! Anyways I hope you enjoy, I love talking to you in my inbox, and if you’d like to be on a taglist jus lemme know and I’ll happily oblige :)

requests are open

-🐇out

taglist: @plutowrites @armins-futon @peachysimp @sofi-yeager

[byanyan]

ㅤpopping the cap of the sharpie back on with a satisfying click, byan admired their handiwork, quite satisfied with it all, as lena pulled her arms back. had they put in a little more effort than they might have normally for doodles that would wash away in a week or two? ...maybe. this, they'd realized about five minutes into their first drawing on her arm, was the first time lena would be seeing more of their work than just a few rough outfit sketches, knowing it was done by them. she had seen a number of their own tattoos, but they'd never bothered to mention that they'd drawn and designed them all themself.

admittedly, there was the slightest twist of anxiety in their gut as they awaited her reaction, watching closely as she looked all the drawings over. and yet, when she finally spoke up, byan still found themself blinking in surprise at the praise.

ㅤㅤ" —what? "ㅤeyebrows raising at the response which was far more positive than they were anticipating, they couldn't help an incredulous laugh at lena's words. they'd been hoping she'd like the art, of course, but they hadn't expected her to like them that much.ㅤ" no, don't do that — those're just shitty little doodles! "ㅤspoken like they hadn't tattooed similar shitty doodles they'd drawn on their own body in the past. —but that was different! those were their own shitty doodles on their own skin; if lena wanted to make some of them permanent, byan wanted to make sure they were worth that.

ㅤㅤ" i mean, if you like any of 'em that much, at least lemme draw 'em better before you go gettin' 'em inked. that way i can fix up the mistakes 'n make 'em more detailed — even change 'em to your specifications, if you want, "ㅤthey told her, shaking their head as they folded their arms over the back of the couch, leaning their weight against it.ㅤ" hell, i could do the tattooin' for you too, if y'really wanted. takes longer, but it costs a lot less. "

@byanyan asked:

[ 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐓 ]  pls consider byan doodling lil tattoo ideas on lena's arm or smth ty. whether they're ideas for her or for themself is entirely up to you || soft touches ( accepting! )

There's a half of a sleeve started, originating at her ribs and wrapping all the way up her shoulder. Tips of wings spilled out from beneath her t shirt, just barely visible at the length. The name "BELLA" is typed out in large, block letters where her forearm meets her bicep, a memorial to something long gone. But between those spaces sat empty freckled and scarred skin, a free canvas for the teen now going to town with the permanent markers they had promised were washable.

She hadn't been laying much attention to the masterpiece, once she had resigned herself to the fact that that ink wasn't coming off any time soon. Her arms were sprawled out as the TV murmured something about the feeding cycles of artic foxes, and Byan stood somewhere behind the couch to complete their most recent mission.

Eventually, the documentary came to a close, with the fox finally getting the dinner he fought for. Lena pulled her arms back, stretched, and felt the twinges of old injuries race up her spine.

"Alrigh', wha' 'ave ya done to me?" She glanced down, taking in the surprisingly detailed and quality doodles of rally batons and planes, running shoes with wings along the tongue, even one of her favorite rescue at the shelter, the outline of his wide nose glistening with honestly impressive detail. Lena twisted her arms, taking in the remarkable line work and elements she really hadn't expected from them given the tools they have to work with.

"Byan, hey, these are really nice!" She sounded a bit impressed. Their skill with hand drawn tattoos was clearly a surprise. "Y'know, I've got 'alf a mind to go out an' get some of these done. Get them tattooed right over."

[sauntervaguelydown]

for spotify wrapped shorts: 44, Rung?

Lone Digger - Caravan Palace (of course you would manage to pick one of my jazz songs)

"What about that guy?" says the voice in his earpiece. "Alone at a bar with a live band. He screams plant."

"Babe that mech screams lonely, not plant," Jazz says.

"Well if it's not him then our guy didn't show, and I can't help you make mechs out of thin air."

Jazz watches the little orange bot fiddle with his drink, alone at the seats along the bar as patrons push and shove past him to shout their orders at the bartender. "Hunched" would be a word to describe him. "Harried" maybe. A kicked can in a back street cube game.

"Rodger," Jazz says. "I think I'll go in for a circle 'round... who knows, maybe you're on to something."

"You think so?"

"Not really," Jazz says, and turns off his comm channel.

He slides his way up through the crowd to the bar, and makes sure to lean right past the skinny bot, bumping a shoulder as he sways forward--elbow at just the right angle to catch the edge of that drink and send it crashing out of hand, splatter, splash, the cube disperses on impact leaving the bot's lap drenched.

The bot blinks down at himself, hand suspended empty in the air.

"Aw, slag, baby," Jazz says, and grabs the back of his chair, spinning him right around for a better look over. "I'm so sorry, lemme buy you another one. Whataya drinking, doll?"

He snags a handful of napkins off the counter and starts patting sections of orange plating dry, feeling for subspace zippers and removable kibble as he goes.

"Oh, er," the bot says, equally bewildered by Jazz cleaning him up but startled enough to hold his arms well out of the way. "Virgin spritzer. Are you sure you--"

"Don't sweat it baby," Jazz says, and leans past him--perfectly smoothly this time--and catches the bartender's optic. "One soft fizz for my friend here, and a tall black for me, thanks my mech."

As Jazz withdraws, he catches the bot staring at him. He flashes a grin. "What's your name, sweetstuff?"

"...Rung," the bot says.

"Folgore," Jazz says, and his hand shoots out for Rung to shake. After a moment, the bot does.

"All alone up here?" Jazz asks, making a big show of craning his neck around. "Picking up studs, hot stuff?"

"N--" Rung almost seemed to choke on his own answer, faceplates growing hot with bewildered laughter. "No, no I just. Came out to see the band play. Your set was wonderful by the way."

"Aw, thanks, sweetstuff." Jazz winks. Rung turns visibly hot on the infrared spectrum.

The bartender comes around with their drinks, and Jazz arches up to grab them out of his hands--letting a little midrift protoform peek through as he twists. Jazz doesn't need to seduce him or anything. He just thinks it's cute how flushed the little bot goes at the sight of it. A good actor could fake that, sure, but why would he.

"How come you alone, though?" Jazz asks him.

When Jazz passes Rung his drink, the bot immediately hides his mouth behind the rim of the cube.

"I'm in town for a conference," Rung admits. "I don't know anyone in Polyhex. I saw the band setting up and..."

Jazz bends down over him, one hand on the back of his chair, and grins. "Say no more, baby," Jazz tells him. "I tell you what, why don't I introduce you to the band?"

There's a spluttering choking noise as energon splatters back into the cube. "M, me?" Rung says. Jazz reaches out with the last napkin and swipes a drop off his mouth.

"No offense, but you finna get crushed at this bar here," Jazz says. "Stick with me, you won't have no problems. Come hang out with the band, all of em's real chill mechs."

Rung takes a sip of his drink, schooling his face into something more neutral. The heat bleeds off a bit, although it stays decidedly higher than it had been.

"What is it you want from me?" Rung asks. "What are you after?"

Gently surprised by the directness--definitely a weird gambit to take if you had yourself something to hide--Jazz draws back for a second and looks the bot over one more time, evaluating what he sees on a host of scopes: heat bleed on infrared, scar damage on ultraviolet, hollow sections like a minefield on echolocation. Those glasses. That definitely-after-market backpack.

No doubt it's a damn suspicious package. The op is a bust, the night is long, and Jazz for his part would love to unwrap it.

The half smile that pulls his mouth isn't a front. "I hate to see a mech havin a bad time at my show."

Rung assesses him for a long, wary moment. His gaze flicks down Jazz's hips, and then skitters aside. When he fixes on the table across the room, behind Jazz, he frowns.

"I don't think there's any more room over there than here," he points out.

"Don't you worry about that," Jazz tells him, and takes his drink out of his hands under the pretense of politely helping him dismount the bar chair. "If it gets tight, you can always sit on my lap."

[autumnslance]

FFXIV Write 2021 #5: Freebie - Passion (Aberrant pt 2) NSFW

((Since some of y’all are thirsty and let’s face it I am deep in this backstory))

Corran fumbled with the door to their room, managing to get it open without dropping Emelia. “Don’t slam it!” She admonished as he kicked it closed behind them.

It was only a few steps to their bed, to drop her on the mattress and follow her down, kissing her once more. Gods, the shape of her mouth fit perfectly against his, and her taste was more delectable than his favorite meal.

She broke the kiss, preventing him from chasing her with a hand against his chest. “Lock the door,” she panted.

Corran grunted in frustration, but got up to do as she bid. As much as he hated pausing now, it was better than possibly being walked in on by their small son; the lock would keep him at bay for a brief time.

Corran yanked his shirt off as he crossed the room, the night air doing little to cool the fever in his skin. He threw the lock and turned back to the bed, eyes already adjusted to the dim light, his breath caught by the sight of her.

“Stop,” he ordered as she finished removing her dress, leaving her in her flimsy petticoat and chemise. Emelia blinked at him, head tilted in her usual quizzical expression while letting the dress fall to the ground. Corran stalked forward, unlacing his breeches. “I want to undress you myself,” he told her, his voice pitched low. He was gratified to see her shiver in response, waiting while he removed his boots so he could drop his pants, left only in his smalls. He saw the tip of her tongue flick over her lips as her gaze took in his arousal through the thin fabric.

Corran fell on her again, mouth finding hers once more, tongue plunging between her lips. He made his way down her neck as he untied and unhooked her remaining clothes, freeing her shoulders to kiss along them. Emelia’s cool hands smoothed over his back and sides, and she made sweet little sounds of pleasure as his lips and teeth raked over familiar sensitive places. “You feel hot as an oven,” she murmured. “Are you all right, love?”

“More than,” Corran replied, freeing her breasts. He cupped and squeezed one, her head falling back as he nipped the stiffened nipple of the other. They weren’t large breasts, but perfect for being held, or taken into his mouth. The shape and feel of them had changed after being used to feed their child, but Corran couldn’t recall anymore how they used to be and he liked them just fine now.

He pushed her clothes down her slender torso and over her hips, which she lifted for him. He pressed kisses to her ribs, her stomach, her sides. His tongue traced along her stretch marks, teasing the sensitive places they led to. She had been so worried about the effects carrying and bearing a child had on her form, but Corran thought the lines and altered shape of her abdomen lovely--further reminders of the love and life they had created together.

Her fingers raked through his hair as he found the waist of her smalls and pulled them down along with her petticoat. He had not quite freed her legs but his impatience won out, helping her kick off the tangle of fabric as he nipped at her inner thighs and over her hips. A needy whine came from her and destroyed what was left of his resolve, his mouth covering her sex.

Emelia arced beneath him, a small cry passing her lips. He grinned against her softness, relishing the scent and taste of her desire as he laved his tongue along her wet folds. He thrust his tongue into her as deep as he could, knowing it wasn’t enough for her but gods he loved how she tasted, how she spread her legs further, inviting him closer and deeper. He made his way up to the sensitive nub at the crown and covered it entirely, sucking and licking at it. She practically wailed, one hand gripping the sheets, the other his scalp. He knew exactly how much pressure to use, how to use his tongue in long strokes to push her swiftly to the brink.

“Gods, Corran, I—” she was writhing in his grasp, breath catching. He hummed an affirmation against her, unrelenting. Usually he liked to draw this out, taking his time while slowly ratcheting up her tension, ensuring she was ready to take him in, but tonight he needed to drink from her and hear her scream for him.

She did, calling his name while her hips bucked as much as he would allow, the heady scent of her release filling his nose, her taste filling his mouth, finally overpowering the aftertaste of Avengret’s blood as he pressed his tongue into Emelia again. He looked up, breathing heavily, watching her. Her midnight hair pooled around her head on the skewed pillows, chest heaving, golden-brown skin slick and shining with sweat as her sparkling dark eyes returned his gaze.

“Perfect,” he growled, rising up to kiss her again, her arms and a leg eagerly wrapping around him as she responded with equal fervor, working his smalls down his legs to free and stroke his throbbing cock.

“Gods, Em,” he moaned, her touch making him dizzy. “Soon as you’re ready—”

“Take me, Cor,” she urged, guiding him. “I need you inside.”

He needed no further encouragement, shifting position and thrusting into her, hilting himself in one swift motion. She gasped, nails digging into his shoulders. Corran groaned against the curve of her neck; she felt so damned good, wet heat tight around him, soft muscles fluttering and clenching along his length.

“Oh, gods,” she exclaimed as he drew back and thrust again, setting a quick, hard pace. He lifted himself, arms straight with elbows locked, watching her, knowing just the right angles to keep pressure on her clit while also dragging himself over that sweet spot inside her. Emelia’s head tossed, face scrunching, breath coming in gulps and gasps with each rough stroke and her body’s own responses, rocking to meet his every motion. Her nails left scratches down his arms as their bodies slapped wetly against each other, the bed frame creaking and squealing and slamming against the wall.

Her hips stuttered, internal muscles clenching and fluttering wildly as her breath came shorter, her tension building. Corran grinned, sweat dripping from him to splash on the pillows and her. “Th-that’s it,” he managed. “Come, Em; lemme hear you.”

“Cor—!” She lost coherence as she cried out, lifting toward him, her release pulsing around him as he continued his hard pace, falling to his elbows as he did not, could not, let up, his own tension building until the rush of blood in his head nearly drowned out all other sound. She gripped the nape of his neck and his back now, her nails digging into his skin and cutting through the haze of sensation. He reached down and hooked his arm under her leg, opening her further, taking him deeper as he needed more of her, more, more…

There!

He shouted her name, vaguely aware he had pushed her from the previous orgasm to yet another peak as he spilled inside her, Emelia crying out again and clinging to him for dear life as she shook like a leaf, body still jumping against his as they both slowly came down.

Corran rolled and fell to the side, pulling her tight to him, stroking her hair and back, burying his face in the crook of her neck again, idly licking the bruising bite mark he had left there, claiming his mate. He was heaving for air and sweating like the sinner he was, but the raging firestorm in his veins had abated, the Song merely a faint echo in his head and drowned out by the little sounds his wife made as they recovered.

“L-let me up,” she finally said, still shaky.

He growled and held her closer.

“I need to clean up,” she insisted, finally extricating herself while Corran pouted. She could barely stand, wobbling as she snagged her robe and unlocked the door to make her way to the wash.

Corran lay on his back, arms splayed, staring at nothing, head blessedly free from the earlier buzzing, empty of thought beyond the growing awareness of the aftermath of their lovemaking. He eventually forced himself up to pull the soaked coverlet off the bed--they hadn’t even gotten underneath it to the sheets--leaving it in a ball in the corner to be dealt with in the morning. He filled a glass from the pitcher she kept on the nightstand, drinking it swiftly and pouring another to drink at a more normal pace.

By the time Emelia returned, their discarded clothing had been picked up and hung on the correct pegs along the wall to also be dealt with on the morrow while Corran lay among the turned down sheets.

She slid into bed next to him, hands remaining a cooling balm as they ran over his chest. “Zaine’s still sleeping, somehow,” she said. “Though we were loud enough to rouse the dead.”

“Didn’t hear you complaining,” he teased, pulling her close once more.

“Certainly not,” she answered, looking down at him. “Though I am curious what brought that on.”

For a wild second he thought of telling her, but dismissed the notion before it even finished forming. He brushed strands of damp hair away from her face and smiled. He would continue to keep her as far from his people’s war as possible; he had decided that from the beginning. “Can’t a man want to swive his beautiful wife he adores with all his heart now and again?”

She laughed, that easy blush blooming on her cheeks once more. “I suppose he can; I know I enjoyed it. Although,” she yawned and settled against him, using his chest as a pillow.

“Although?”

“We were reckless; I’ll have to track myself for the next moon.”

His heart paused for a moment as he realized what she meant. While she often took a medicine to regulate her cycles, he usually wore a skin, or finished outside of her to be on the safe side. That...had not happened tonight, and he wondered how much of that was the dragon’s influence versus his simple, instinctual need for his beloved after the day’s events.

“It wouldn’t be a bad thing,” he said, not realizing immediately he had said it out loud, but then she tilted her head up.

���You want another baby?” She asked, tentative.

Could he maintain his responsibility to the cause, reaffirmed just this day? Probably, though it would be difficult. He had waited long enough, while life itself, he was finding, did not. “Do you?”

She hummed a little, snuggling in again. “It could be nice,” she replied. “I think Zaine would like a brother or sister.”

“Well,” Corran said, licking his suddenly dry lips. “If tonight doesn’t do it, I suppose we’ll just have to try again.” He tilted her chin up to kiss her one more time--gods, he really did love kissing her--and smiled. “Assuming you’re agreeable.”

“I’m sure you’ll convince me,” she replied, lips brushing his as they spoke. They laughed together, and he continued to stroke her back as she settled back down to using him as a pillow.

It took time for Corran to fall asleep, aware of Emelia’s steady breathing and her soft form alongside him, cooling the remaining heat in his blood. When he finally did close his eyes, he dreamed of her laughter while dragon wings beat through the sky.

---

(Direct sequel to Aberrant, Day 2 prompt for the FFXIVWrite2021)

[mcnsterbait]

𝖊𝖒𝖊𝖗𝖘𝖔𝖓 𝖒𝖔𝖓𝖗𝖔𝖊

 i was not made to be subtle.

aesthetic  —  always having to be the loudest voice in the room even if they have nothing to say. needing to be liked. focusing on what was instead of what is. sunflowers in glittery vases. charcoal covered hands. a mess of gorgeous chaos. the sun shining through storm clouds. hesitate, then lie. a face straight out of myths. eyes that have seen too much. black coffee and sprinkle donuts. clever as the devil and twice as petty. telling yourself things have to get better. mirrored sunglasses. failure as a state of being. infamy follows in your wake.

compare to : samantha jones ( sex and the city ) gabrielle solis ( desperate housewives ), serena van der woodsen ( gossip girl ), haley dunphy ( modern family ), tom haverford ( parks and recreation ), jackie burkhart ( that 70′s show ), cordelia chase ( buffy the vampire slayer ), rogelio de la vega ( jane the virgin ), han solo ( star wars ), penny ( the big bang theory ). cece parekh ( new girl )

stats  |  pinterest  |  wanted connections

— ooc

hello all! i’m ali (29, est, she/her), and i’m definitely excited to get things going here! i’m a teacher so my hours vary greatly, but i’m very excited to get things going here!! lemme know if you’d like to plot anything out!

— basics

(  jenny boyd,  cisfemale and she/her  ) isn’t that EMERSON MONROE? truthfully,  i’m surprised they’ve last this long considering they’re  SELFISH,  but i suppose them being CHARISMATIC evens it out.  is that a crowbar they’re carrying ?  i heard the thirty year old is laying low by themselves,  while the apocalypse passes.

name : emerson may monroe nicknames : emerson, em age : 30 sexual orientation : pansexual gender identity : cisfemale, she/her spoken languages : english, conversational french former occupation : model family : lili monroe ( mother, deceased post-apocalypse, unknown ), charles monroe ( father, deceased pre-apocalypse ), alexander monroe ( older brother, alive, unknown ) positive traits : confident, charismatic, adaptable, ambitious negative traits : selfish, arrogant, stubborn, flighty

— background ( trigger warning : parental death, parental abandonment, alcoholism )

emerson monroe was the second child born into what was already a happy household. charlie & lili had been married with a child long before emerson came around. alexander was already fourteen before em (their surprise, miracle baby) was born. the family had another three years of happiness before tragedy struck in the form of a heart attack when charles young was only forty-six. without him, em’s mother was lost. emerson’s aunt, june, moved in shortly after to help take care of things.

her mother never really recovered from it. she slowly drank herself to death over the next decade leaving emerson with only her aunt for comfort. but by that time, emerson had already considered her aunt her parent anyways. she barely even remembers a time when she had her real parents as more than a photograph or a drunken mess in the bathroom. june was honestly the best parent emerson could have asked for. she always made sure to tell her aunt that too.

emerson was ‘discovered’ by a modeling agency when she was seventeen and she spent the next few years in new york pursuing that career. although she wasn’t quite a household name, she had been featured in quite a few well known ads before everything happened. she was well on her way to becoming a full celebrity when the world went to shit. it’s something she’s still quite upset about and brings up often.

despite going into modeling, drawing is the one thing that emerson always thought she was best in. she had considered some sort of career in art or something similar for once her looks couldn’t get her any further in life, but that’s all gone to shit now. her art used to tend towards fantastical designs and contemporary pieces. she liked to shock people with her art, though not through gore or anything of the like, but in the strange and otherworldly. she liked to incorporate a mix of nature and muted colors to evoke a sense of wonder and weirdness. although it’s impractical, she does keep a prized sketchbook and pencils in her bag still.

em was in new york when the world as she knew it ended. there was a fashion show she was supposed to appear in and some award show to make an appearance at, but she never made them. it was after the world ended that she began to realize that she was in deep trouble on her own. emerson basically latched on to the first protector-type she found. honestly, em was lucky she hadn’t met a rather unfortunate end considering everything else going on around her and considering her distinct lack of survival skills. although her skills have improved some since then, she certainly still wouldn’t survive on her own. em would sacrifice most people for her own safety tbh.

she’s honestly bitter on the end of the world like girl had so much going for her and now she hasn’t had a manicure in longer than she cares to admit, and she could really use a hair straightener. emerson used to try to focus on what the future could hold, but it’s hard when all she sees now is death.

she made it across the united states with her protector person and is roaming around the los angeles area with him. em really wants a place where she can belong again, but she knows she doesn’t belong in this new world.

— random headcanons

emerson has a cartier watch that once belonged to a fellow model she was seeing when she was working in new york. after the woman cheated on her with a designer, emerson took the watch in revenge. it became one of her prized possessions.

emerson grew up surrounded by science fiction as her father was a huge fan of the genre. her mom continued the tradition after he passed and made emerson watch it with her during her few sober moments. although she never liked it as a child, she ended up liking it more through the years especially after her mother passed too. she’s still quite the nerd, though she tries to hide it under a fabulous exterior.

she still cares far too much about her appearance considering everything else going on in the world. she still devours fashion magazines when she can and tries to keep looking as good as she can, though she understands the need for practicality too ( to a certain extent ).