#like its INCREDIBLY easy for my brain to look at and go 'well YEAH its a small amount of money to quibble over but thats still

[falinscloaca]

the squirrel stapler release is really fucking funny to me bc like, objectively speaking towards my brains own methodology like yeah, eight bucks is a perfectly reasonable price for a small indie thingumagig (one could argue quality standards but like, fucking whatever quality should inform the price as to whether you should spend the money at all not like. make it cheaper. imo. like theres Nuance but- whateverrrrr) but then its. dread x 2 is 10. and that has the ability to make one go "BUHWAH??? ONE OF THE LIKE TWELVE GAMES FROM THAT COSTS THREE QUARTERS THE AMOUNT?!?!?!?!" which like TECHNICALLY speaking. yes. yes it does! why the gods green fuck is dread x 2 only 10 dollars! kinda hard to raise the amount now that its been *out* but like what the hell thats tiny

[comatosebunny09]

first class | sylus

summary: sylus likes to play dangerous games. today, you happen to be his rook piece. warning(s): female anatomy described, explicit language, dirty talk, bodily fluids, exhibitionism, reader's attire is described, profanity, blue balls of the female persuasion, praise kink now playing: devil's advocate - the neighbourhood notes: something i threw in @muvaginger's inbox. i'm sorry for my mind. thank you for reading, lovebugs.

Sylus, but calling you when you’ve just gotten off work.

“Are you home?” he asks, all husky on the other end. He knows you aren’t if the telltale shadow cast by a crow circling overhead is anything to go by.

“Not yet.”

“Well, get there.” Amusement resides in his voice. You have half a mind to tell him off for bossing you around like that. Like you don’t secretly enjoy it.

“Yeah, yeah. On my way.”

You hang up and shove your phone into your pocket. Put your helmet on, throwing your leg over your bike’s seat and settling on the cushion. Start it, the engine purring to life beneath you. After waving goodbye to Tara, you peel off, zipping through the energetic streets of Linkon towards your home.

Inside the lobby, your phone buzzes again. You roll your eyes, shoving your earpiece into your ear as you trudge through the lobby.

“What!” you grate out.

“Moving a little too slow there, kitten.”

If only you could punch him through the phone. You tamp down your anger, switching tactics. “What’s this about, anyway?”

He chuckles low and throaty, the sound of it prickling your brain. “Patience is a virtue.”

You scoff. “You’re one to talk.” Asshole, you add inwardly.

You catch the elevator to the floor where your apartment resides. Slide your key in, easing through the door into your entryway. Barely have time to set your keys down before a sharp rapping snaps your attention to the door.

“Open it,” Sylus orders.

Hesitant, you pivot towards it. Fingers twitch near your hip where your gun’s holstered. Slowly, you reach for the handle, mindful of your steps.

A soft laugh rings in your ear.

“Easy, sweetheart. It’s not an ambush. If I wanted to off you, I would’ve done so by now.”

“I never know with you,” you clip back, turning the doorknob.

After mentally counting to three, you throw the door open and peek outside. Silence and an empty hallway greet you. You glance left and right. Up and down the hall until a large, crimson box catches in your peripheral, seated on your doormat. You fetch it, admiring the black ribbon intricately wrapped around it.

“What’s this?” you query, kicking your door shut once you’re back inside.

“A gift.”

“Another one?”

His tone swims with nonchalance. “What can I say? I enjoy spoiling you rotten.”

You test the weight of the box. Shake it, hearing tissue paper and something heavy stir inside.

“Open it.”

You oblige. Tear the ribbon and top off, eyes curiously raking over the box’s contents. Inside is a long, black trench coat. Beneath that rests a long-sleeved, silk blouse. Deeper still lies a simple miniskirt, and you test its material between your fingers. It all looks and feels incredibly expensive despite its simplicity.

“Put it on,” Sylus instructs through the stillness.  

“What? Why?”

“Because you have a train to catch in—” A brief pause. “One hour.”

“What the fuck? A train? An hour? Sylus—”

“Time is ticking, sweetie.”

The phone clicks with his exit.

You throw the clothes onto your couch, scrutinizing them over folded arms, chewing your lip. It’s 50 degrees out. Where the hell does he think you’re going dressed like this? Does he plan to use you as bait or something?

Your phone buzzes again on your coffee table. You fetch it to see a QR code for a train ticket sitting in your inbox.

“Shit,” you hiss, scrambling for your bathroom to shower. He’s serious. There really is no time to spare.

He’d better have a good reason for being so cryptic.

—

“The second to last car,” he husks in your ear. “Meet me there in five.”

Your lips contort into a scowl. You rip your earpiece out, wending through the train’s other passengers to pursue your goal.

In the corners of your vision, the scenery outside the windows eases by. Greenery nestled beneath the snow, somewhere remote. It’s beautiful. You take time to admire the sights before finding your way to the second to last car.

The door slides shut behind you. It’s quiet, save for the occasional rumble of the train upon the tracks. The passengers here are sparse. It’s a luxury cabin, decked with armchairs, faux plants, and an expensive carpet.

You survey the area, spotting an unmistakable thatch of white nestled in the rear seat. Try to mask your giddiness as you make your way towards the back. It’s been a few days since you’ve last seen him.

Wordlessly, he motions to the seat across from him when you venture to his side, wearing that customary smirk. You plop down, folding your arms. Bite back a smile of your own, favoring a frown.

“What’s this all about?”

Sylus leans back in an easy slouch, and the way he manspreads makes your mouth water. He peers down at you from his nose, draping a long arm over the headrest of his seat. His turtleneck and coat do little to disguise the power of his body. The tendons in his neck dance. Jaw flexes. He motions to your lap with a flick of his gaze.

“Touch yourself,” he rasps.

Your eyes grow comically wide. “Excuse me?!” you hiss, mindful of your volume. Look around to ensure no one’s the wiser to your conversation. No hello. No I’ve missed you. No preamble whatsoever.

His smug look doesn’t waver. “Don’t make me repeat myself, sweetheart.” There’s an underlying edge to his voice. One that doesn’t leave room for argument. Still, you contest him.

“Sylus, there are people here!”

That enraged whisper thing you do—it’s endearing.

Sylus’ eyes darken with something sinister. He hasn’t stopped watching you since the moment you sat down. Hasn’t stopped raking his eyes over your honeysuckle thighs, your hips.

“They can watch,” he drawls with an innocent shrug.

“Sylus!”

“Sweetie, I’m not asking.” Though he bears an expression of amusement, you can tell he means business. Consequences typically follow when you don’t heed him. Delicious consequences.

You swallow thickly. Sylus’ silhouette blurs as you survey the car over his shoulder. There are at least three other passengers here, all seated near the door you came through. More than enough distance between you. Your lover bleeds back into focus, his brow raised in challenge.

With a weighted sigh, you shift to make yourself more comfortable. Loosen the tie of your coat, drawing it open whilst easing your hips forward. Hesitantly spread your legs, feeling Sylus’ optics tuned to your every move. Something hot and sticky has already begun to gather in your panties, and your nipples tighten beneath the frail silk of your blouse.  

He cutely cocks his head to the side when you hesitate. Eyes narrow. “What’s wrong, sweetie,” he croons all low. You feel it coiling in your stomach. “Scared?”

You cut your eyes to him, mouth drawn into a tight line. Of course you are. You’ve never done anything like this. He’s introduced you to all kinds of things. Uncovered fantasies lurking deep in your mind. Discovered all the erogenous zones on your body you never knew you housed, but—

Exhibitionism is new. Dangerous. And somehow, the thought of it makes you wetter.

“Go on,” he soothes. Encourages, irises dipping into a mysterious shade of garnet.

Your body moves of its own volition, spellbound. Thighs part a little more, hands smoothing over plump flesh. You sigh out, leaning back as you drag your nails over the inner curve of your thighs, bunching your skirt up towards your hips. A little more enthusiastic now, teasing your swollen outer labia with the knuckles of your thumbs.

Sylus’ mouth parts slightly. His gaze flickers downward, entranced by the show and the soft hitch of your breath. He looks back into your eyes, clicking his tongue in discovery. Reaches out a sizable hand, leaning towards you with his elbows digging into the pockets of his knees.

“Panties. Take them off.”

Your tummy sparkles with heat. He quirks a brow. He’s serious. It’s not enough to touch yourself like this in public. He wants you bare and exposed, staining the armchair with your heat.

Without a word, you shimmy out of your underwear. Thin and frill as they slide down your calves, over your ankles to pool at your feet. You compliantly deposit them into his hand. A bitten-off growl brews in his chest. He falls back against his seat, stuffing your panties into his coat’s inner pocket for safekeeping. Signals for you to keep going, fully invested in this game.

You repeat the process from before. And it’s a new sensation now, the crisp air of the train car kissing your sticky pussy. You try to think of other things. Try to distract yourself from the smolder of his gaze and how it makes your body hum and your mind fill with smoke.

You think about his fingers instead of yours, stroking down the slit of your pussy. His fingers rubbing at the hood of your clitoris, drawing it back to stroke your pretty, swollen clit. His thumbs sliding over your nipples, causing your back to arch, his tongue laving at the space behind your ear…

Your hips stutter. You stifle a moan. Sylus slides in and out of focus, your vision fogging around the corners. He chuckles amorously, shifting in his seat. “Don’t stop,” he nurtures, eyes burning like a feverish flame. His dick sits heavy in his slacks, slowly hardening and twitching.

You salivate. Knowing that he’s enjoying this as much as you gradually are—fuck. You bite your lip, propping your leg on the chair’s arm. Spread nice and wide for him, your pussy on full display.

You rut against your fingers, your face screwed up in rapture. Legs quiver each time the pads of your fingers bump your messy clit. You construct a rhythm that’s maddeningly slow and torturous. Feel that sparkling rush lazily pooling between your thighs, but it’s not enough. Wanna be filled and stuffed to the brim with cum.

His cum.

A glimpse at Sylus reveals something that makes you throb. He’s touching himself. Humping into the palm of his hand, hot and weighted through the thick layers of his clothes. Fuck. You pulse.

“Syl,” you sob quietly, wetly, wantonly. “Syl, please—”

“Use your fingers,” he breathes all ragged. “Inside.” Angles his head back until it thumps against the headrest. Doesn’t look away, still rucking his hips up into the heel of his palm like the slow undulation of a wave.

You indulge, circling the pucker of your pussy with your fingers. Steadily work one inside, and you sigh, tossing your head back. Caress your tits with your free hand, plucking your nipples to their peaks as you drive your finger in and out. The lewd, squelching sounds you make as you torture yourself causes your walls to clench down.

Sylus’ voice crackles, pouring through the fizzy haze that’s settled over you.

“One more. You can take one more, can’t you, sweetie?”

You moan at how his voice oozes like warm milk and honey. You’re obedient, gradually adding another, pumping in and out. A thick ring of cream collects around your knuckles. It’s still not enough. Never enough.

“That’s my girl,” he lauds, relief in his timbre. “So good for me. So, so good.”

“Sylus,” you sob, fucking yourself a little faster. Wish it were him instead, filling you up and pumping you with the briny edge of his cum. There’s a warm fluid trickling down your leg. Heat spooling in your tummy.

He greedily ingests the sight of you fucking yourself, groaning hoarsely. You’re so close to spilling over the edge, so close to losing yourself to an orgasm. And you would—

If not for the sound of footfalls nearing your position.

“Shit!” you hiss, snapping your legs shut. Work your skirt into some semblance of neatness, throwing your coat over your legs. Your cheeks and neck are aflame, pulse pounding in your throat, pussy throbbing.

You don’t make eye contact as the gentleman passes, too busy looking at your fingers in your lap. He’s none the wiser to the goings on in your section—or, at least, he acts like he isn’t—as he bows with a small smile, slipping through the door behind. Sylus tracks his every move, and if looks could kill…

Your heart thrums heavily in your ears. You caution a glance at your boyfriend, taking in his flushed cheeks, his heaving chest. He’d thrown his coat over his lap to disguise the monster pressing against the seam of his trousers.

You lock eyes. His lips pull into a scowl as he sits up, pitching himself forward. Cants his head to one side, voice abrasive and low.

“Did I tell you to close your fucking legs?”

A thrill racks through you. It’s rare that he curses, only sullying his tongue when he’s upset or too far gone. It turns your stomach to a primordial ooze. Without warning, Sylus gathers himself up, snatching your wrist along with him.

You stumble like a baby fawn to your feet, gazing into those eyes that dwindle like liquid spilled over burning coals.

“We aren’t done here, sweetheart,” he promises with a tense jaw. Tugs you from your seat and down the aisle, all the while fishing for something in his pocket. A quick glance reveals a barcode, and a number printed in bold letters on a bit of plastic. A keycard. The sneaky little…

He peers at you over his shoulder as you both maneuver through the throng of passengers in the remaining cars, back towards the front. Your features warm with a smile. Legs tingle.

You weren’t aware that this train had sleeper cars, but you’re grateful to know it does. Your body buzzes with the prospect of what’s to come. He’s not done with you, indeed.  

hair down | masterlist | nuisance

[lfzyxf]

Could you please write some isaac lahey fluff, maybe about reader wearing his sweater?

I'm so excited to write for Teen Wolf again. Thank you so much for requesting this, I hope its to your liking! Masterlist Word count: 1480

It’s easy to forget that even in Beacon Hills, California the weather gets colder during the winter. So easy that you’re now sitting in class shivering and struggling to focus on whatever Coach is saying. You pull the sleeves of your sweater down to cover your hands before rubbing them over your hands, trying to warm yourself up.

After a few more seconds of trying to warm yourself something in the corner of your eye grabs your attention. You turn slightly to see it’s a cardigan being handed to you by Isaac. You’re not that close to him even if you wish you were, you mostly got to know him when he became friends with Scott. But even then, you were too shy to actually try and get to know him better.

You hesitantly move to take the cardigan before smiling softly at him. All he does in response is wink at you before turning back towards the front of the class. Holding the sweater in your hands you feel how soft it is, you recognize it as well. It’s a long grey and black striped cardigan. You recall it being his favourite with how often he wears it.

Finally, you put it on, instantly feeling a lot warmer. The sleeves fall past your hands which makes you roll them up. When you look back up you see Isaac staring at you, a soft smile resting on his lips and his cheeks tinted a soft pink. You smile back at him before finally focusing on whatever Coach is going on about this time.

After an incredibly boring 40 minutes class is finally over. You quickly rush to grab your stuff so you can make it on time for your next class on the other side of the building. You barely make it on time, plopping down in your seat next to Lydia. “Did you run here?” she asks looking at you with a raised eyebrow. “Basically, I don’t know who made my schedule but when I found them-” she interrupts you, pointing at what you’re wearing “is that Isaac’s cardigan?”.

Shocked you look down; you completely forgot you were wearing his cardigan. “I-uh, yeah. I was cold during class, so he lent it to me. I completely forgot to give it back.” You explain while Lydia just stares at you with a smug look on her face. “He just happened to notice you were cold and offered you his favourite cardigan?”

Your cheeks start to feel warm; you shake your head while playing with edge of the cardigan. “I’m sure it didn’t mean anything to him, he was just being friendly I’m sure” you reason. She clearly doesn’t agree as she just shakes her head right as the teacher walks in.

Classes are finally over for today causing you and Lydia to walk back to your lockers with excitement. The group is going over to Scott’s place to hang out for the rest of the day. When you arrive at your lockers the others are already waiting on you. Stiles is leaning against the locker next to yours with Scott next to him, they’re talking to Allison about something. You quickly open your locker, stuffing your books into it. “Is that a new cardigan?” Allison asks confused, pointing at it. You don't get a chance to respond before a different voice responds, “It’s mine actually.”

You quickly turn around, and behind you is Isaac, leaning against the locker next to you, similar to Stiles. He smiles at you before asking, “I hope it kept you warm?” Your brain takes a moment to catch up before you respond, nodding “Yes, yes it did thank you! I’m sorry for running off with it, i had to run to make it to my next class and I just completely forgot about it.” Your cheeks are heating up again as he looks down at you, eating up your every word.

He shakes his head softly “Nah don't worry about it, you look better in it anyway. Wouldn’t want you to freeze either” he says before standing up normally “are we leaving?” He asks nodding towards the exit. There’s a moment of silence before Scott speaks up and we leave to go to his place for the scheduled hangout.

While making your way to Scott’s place Allison and Lydia hang in the back with you. “So, what was that about?” Allison asks smiling. You shrug “I have no idea-” “he clearly likes you” Lydia interrupts. You push her softly before shushing her. “Maybe don’t talk about it so loudly?” you say with wide eyes, glancing at Isaac hoping he didn’t hear anything with his heightened senses.

Lydia simply rolls her eyes while Allison puts her arm around your shoulders. “Why don’t you just ask?” You stare at Allison for a moment before replying, “Are you actually insane? Do you need medical help?” She laughs before shaking her head “You won’t know until you ask.” You sigh softly, looking at the ground “What if he doesn’t like me like that? It would just get awkward between us.” “But what if he does” Lydia responds, she’s smiling softly at you, a comforting look in her eyes. “You can’t let this opportunity go to waste just because you’re scared.”

You take a breath before nodding “I’ll talk to him about it later.” The two girls smile at you until Stiles interrupts the sweet moment “Can you guys walk any slower?”

Stiles is terrible at Mario Kart, that much is clear by the fact that he’s lost 3 times in a row. He still refuses to give up, convinced that he’ll one the next round against Scott. You stopped playing after the 2nd round, your head started to hurt from how loud Stiles screams when playing. Lydia and Allison are sitting on the sofa watching Scott and Isaac absolutely kick Stiles’ ass in the game. Even after another round of losing Stiles is convinced he can win so he goes up against Scott once more. This time Isaac doesn’t play, similarly he complains his head is starting to hurt. “I’m not even that loud!” Stiles retorts, or more so yells. “Yes, you are” all of us reply in turn.

You’re still laughing when Isaac walks up to you, crouching so only you can hear him. “Could we talk for a moment?” He asks looking up at you. You nod briefly, wondering what on earth he would have to say to you in private. “Of course,” you stand up before following him to the kitchen, moving to sit on the countertop with him leaning against the kitchen table.

The both of you stay silent for a moment, tension high in the air. “So, what did you want to talk about?” You ask softly, playing with the hem of his cardigan that you’re still wearing. It takes another moment for him to respond, “You know, when I first met you, I was wondering why on earth you were even talking to me. I was an absolute nobody, I barely had any friends, and I wasn’t doing great in lacrosse.” He sighed before continuing “After Derek bit me I was convinced I could finally ask you out. That you would finally want me like I have wanted you. But even then, I was too scared, I couldn’t get myself to tell you how I felt.”

He moved closer to you, his hand moving to cover your cheek before softly caressing it. “But today I finally had the guts to make a move, and when I saw how adorable you looked with my cardigan on, I knew I had to tell you. But then you ran out of class, and I missed my chance. So, I’m telling you now because I’m not missing another chance.”

He moves even closer, your knees pressing against his legs. He tilts his head down to look into your eyes before he speaks once more “I really like you-” he laughs softly “Honestly, I think I might be in love with you.” You can’t hold back your smile; your hands move to rest on his chest when you ask if he’s being serious. He nods, his head dropping down to rest against yours. “I feel the same way” you laugh, “I was too scared to say anything.” The two of you laugh for a moment. Finding the fact that both of you felt the same way but were just too scared to say anything incredibly stupid.

“Then, could I ask for the honour of being yours?” He asks, smiling at you, his cheeks painted an adorable red. You quickly nod in response, smiling before finally kissing him. His hands move to hold your face, the two of you enjoying the moment until you are once again interrupted by Stiles screaming in victory as he finally wins a game. 

[ofallthingsnasty]

capture kill

Pairing: M!Werewolf x F!Reader x M!Werewolf Tags:  teratophilia, yandere, dead dove: do not eat, noncon, abduction, (attempted) forced impregnation, creampies, chubby reader Word count: 3.8k Summary:  Two men are secretly fighting over you.

Unfortunately, you’re about to find out.

Note: This started out as some dialogue that popped into my head and it was a lot of fun to write out the dynamic between these two OCs! Please read the tags properly and enjoy. Requests are open!

You smell before you feel.

The air is ripe with motor oil and wood, just like your family's little shack during summer evenings. An almost musky note lies underneath, mixed with something metallic, rusty - old equipment, maybe? It’s quiet, the only thing you can hear is your own breathing, deep and constant. There is the occasional creak from the boards, expanding and moving against each other in the heat. The wall you're propped up against is hard but warm from the sun - it’s not a comfortable position and the moment you realize it, a familiar ache settles itself in your lower back, clearly a sign that you’ve spent a long time sitting like this.

Did you fall asleep hiding behind one of the shelves with a book in hand, enjoying a lazy summer evening? 

It wouldn’t be the first time: The shack is the only place where you can truly be all by yourself - without any disruptions from your family, without anyone asking for you, without any chatter and the constant clatter of dishes or the static of the tv. You’ve always liked to hole up right here, seated on a cushion and with some snacks in hand. You’ve spent many quaint evenings like this, forgetting the world around you.

There is only one problem: You don't live anywhere near your parents' house anymore. 

And you’re pretty sure that you were just enjoying your favorite iced drink at the cozy little café around the corner. The thought shocks you from the very last bits of sleep.

It’s dim around you. You can barely make out the rest of your body while an unnatural drowsiness still clings to your eyes - it seems to sit right on top of your lids, weighing down on them like a ton of bricks. You feel so incredibly groggy, as though you’d die if you didn’t fall back asleep this second. A small part of you fights against the feeling - it’s too easy, you think, to just simply give up. Something is off, something terrible churns your stomach around nothing but air.

Rolling up your head, you blink at the ceiling. 

Green eyes peer back at you, big and apologetic. They're lined by silvery-white fur, between them a muzzle. Too high above you to be a dog, too broad. The thing is bipedal - more bear in body than canine, with disgustingly big paws that look like they could rip you limb from limb. It eyes you with something akin to curiosity, intelligence clear as day in its gaze.

You blink again, brain trying to catch up with your eyes.

And then it speaks. Awful, garbled words. “I’m so sorry, darling.”

You can’t help but scream.

Or at least you try to, because your mouth won’t open. Your lips are held together by something hard and sticky - duct tape, your mind numbly supplies as if it’s of dire importance.

The thing looks stunned - panicked, even, as far as you can tell from its eyes widening at your muffled protests and your head wildly swinging around.

“Yeah, yeah you’re sorry”, another voice cuts in, only making you thrash around harder. “We get it, you’re trying to save the romantic atmosphere or some shit.”

It comes from the corner of the shack, where a shadowy mass stands, postured leisurely against the wall. It is dark - but there is no doubt that it looks just like the wolf-man in front of you. You feel like you’re hallucinating. As if being abducted wasn’t something out of your worst nightmares already - these animals are so bizarre, your poor brain doesn’t know what to do with all of this information.

“Well, how do you expect me to go about it?”, the one in front of you hisses back, eyes not leaving you for a second.

“It definitely helped the whole fighting thing, dumbass”, the other thing snickers and the wolf-man growls at the mocking tone. “I told you we should have just done the deed when she was out cold.”

The sentence confirms all of your worst fears. You whimper against your makeshift gag, trying to suppress tears. The thing gives you what you think is supposed to be a sympathetic look but it only looks ghoulish on its canine face.

“That’s barbaric”, it says, voice thick with disgust. “Yeah, and this right here is the height of chivalry and romance”, the dark one chortles. “As always, you’re a fucking hoot.”

“Shut up.”

“Well- I’m sure, the missus would like an explanation. So quit yapping and do your little monologue, will you?” “Fuck you.”

It gives the other an irrated look and then takes a step forward. You flinch away from it, only to meet the wall behind you. An attempt at raising your hands in defense is foiled thick rope binding them together - you can only cower behind your forearms, fingers swiping, gripping wildly through the air with what you hope is enough to keep it at bay. The wolf-man looks almost sad at your motion but doesn’t back off - those giant paws wrap themselves around your shoulder with surprising gentleness as it crouches down, completely disregard your attempts at scratching it. The thing holds your gaze with big, sad eyes and takes a stuttering breath. It seems to want to say something but isn’t able to - and the fingers on your shoulder tighten themselves into the fabric of your shirt.

Then it says your name- and chokes up. “I can’t-”, it grits out. “I can’t say it-” “You’ve been preparing your shitty talk all the way up here, grow some fucking balls.”

It whines in response, the sound high and miserable. “She’s going to hate me for this.”

“Oh my god, shut up, Evan!”, the dark one snarls again. “She’s gonna hate you either way, believe me.” Evan. The name rings a faint bell even in your panic-ridden brain. Evan. The baker from your favorite little shop a few minutes down - who has the same green eyes to match this thing. A couple years younger than you and so very sweet like the pastries he bakes - you can hardly believe he is this monster. But clear as day, in front of your own two eyes, the wolf responds to his name and has his eyes - even his blond hair sort of matches its coat, if you squint. You thrash in Evan’s grasp, thoughts rushing through your head. You feel like you’re dreaming and dying at the same time - that thing can’t possibly be a human - and this situation can’t be real, either. It’s all too much, too fast. You’re starting to feel faint.

“I-”

“Fine. I’ll do it myself, cuck.” The other steps forward and you get a better look at him, even through the black and green spots that are sprinkled all over your vision - his dark fur is peppered with silvery streaks, his muzzle turning white from age. One of his canines is chipped and makes him look roughed up, makes him look scarier than he already is.

"You see, sweetheart - me and Evan over here are quite… interested in you. Tried to settle this issue for weeks. But then our alpha stepped in and came up with", he waves his paw around as if to show you something, "this."

"And now we're gonna fuck you and see which one knocks you up first, hm?"

You lose it. Whimpering against the duct tape, you throw your legs around, desperate to fight them off. Some animalistic part of your brain supplies you with the thought that just trying to scream no, no, no against your gag might make them spare you, might make them go away. But Evan doesn’t let up, he keeps his hands on you, heavy and warm.

"You scared her, fucking asshole!", he snarls, teeth bared and fur raised.

“She wasn't gonna like this either way, boy. Some woo-woo words and a little sap won't make her fall for you immediately.”

You thrash around helplessly, efforts futile against the monster holding you down.

"You had the chance to ask her out every damn day when she took her pretty little face to your shop. And didn’t you follow her home sometimes?”, the other one snickers, clearly delighted in picking on his mate.

It makes you stop dead in your tracks and you look at Evan with wide eyes, scared. 

The darker one laughs. “Would you look at that. Did I tattle?”

By now Evan’s claws are buried in your shoulder. It hurts, even through the cotton of your t-shirt. Not even your whimpered protest seems to reach him. He looks positively murderous. “See, loverboy over here isn’t as innocent as he’d like you to think. Nasty little creeper, that one.”

“Shut up, Bill-”, Evan grits out.

Bill. Such a mundane name for a monster like him. Unlike Evan, it doesn’t ring a bell - but you’re sure he is a local just like the young bakery worker.

“That's enough”, Bill says, voice suddenly full of authority. “You’re only making this worse for her, boy.” The paw on your shoulder trembles. “At least let me go first.” His voice is nothing more than a whimper now, more reminiscent of a sad child than a fully grown man grotesquely stretched into the body of a wolf. He sounds absolutely pathetic like this and you’d pity him in any other situation.

Bill laughs, deep and ugly. It’s an almost dry chuckle that gets gradually louder. The atmosphere shifts to something more dangerous, more serious - gone is the playful teasing, now it sounds like he’s ready to rip Evan’s throat out with his bared fangs.

“I am your elder. I get to go first.”

Evan doesn’t respond. He just stares at your lap with an indecipherable expression.

“You hear me, boy? Hugh said this was the way to settle things. Trying to question your alpha?” The threat in his voice is clear. Evan finally opens his mouth. “No.”

“Good. Very good.”

He finally lets go of your shoulder and steps aside. Bill doesn’t waste any more time - you’re grabbed by your ankled and roughly pulled onto floor, helplessly flailing your bound hands through the air. He’s on you almost immediately, caging your head in with two thick arms. You can only stare up at him with pleading eyes, trying to beg him to stop with your expression alone.

“Sh, princess”, he says, almost gentle. He bows his head down and nudges the crown of your head. “I can play nice with you, you know? I just don’t like that little cuck over there”

His words do little to calm you. 

Whimpering against the tape, you let tears spill freely. You just want to be home, in your bed - just anywhere but not here. “It’s okay”, he murmurs and licks them away with his rough tongue. “You’ll be fine. You’re a little fighter, I know you are.”

A growl sounds from the corner but Bill isn’t fazed. He caresses your face with one clawed finger and crinkles his eyes at you. It’s another attempt at a soothing gesture, another one that doesn’t work.

“Poor thing, hm? Let’s get this over with.”

You can barely cry in protest before he rips your shirt open with sheer force, digs his claws into the cotton like it’s butter. Your skin prickles with fear as he eyes you, soft form and all, like the finest cut of meat he’s ever seen. Gone is that almost-warm expression, that deceptively gentle touch. He’s back to his snickering, old self. “Cute bra, baby. Too bad it has to go.” And with that, Bill slashes the straps and rips the band away. Your torso is completely bare in a matter of seconds, leaving you to shiver on the rough wood, the scraps of your shirt barely shielding your back from the ground.

Evan groans from his place and the sound curdles your stomach. 

“Just ignore him, baby”, Bill says and bares his teeth into a ghoulish smile above you. “He’ll have his turn but I’m gonna knock you up and keep you.” With another rip of elastic and cotton, he frees you from your pants. The floor is cold against your skin and you already can feel the splinters that are about to bury themselves into you - but it’s nothing compared to the terror awaiting you. “A little uncomfortable?”, he hums above you. “Sorry about that, babe. Gonna have to do for now.” He stuffs his whole snout into your bush and groans. The feeling is alien, his muzzle warm and wet and you shudder with it. “You smell divine.”

When he pulls back, his dick is unsheathed, hard already. He palms himself while he stares down at you, dark eyes enraptured by your form. 

“You’re just-”, he grunts. “About the sweetest thing I’ve ever seen-”

He pinches the fat of your belly with a surprising gentleness, the sting tender. 

“Look at you, all soft and round. So perfect for me.”

He leans over and kisses and bites your neck, your shoulder, even your jaw - gently, which only freaks you out more. He really won’t stop, will fuck you in a matter of minutes and you can’t do anything about it. You know you aren’t ready to take him and he is definitely bigger than average in this form. The dread that blooms in your stomach feels like a punch to your gut. 

“Deep breaths, princess”, he rasps above you, able to read every single thought that flits through your head in your terror-filled eyes. “Nothing much you can do now.”

As sick as it is, it rings true somewhere deep in your panic-riddled brain. Bill shuffles around a little bit, without ever breaking eye contact. There is a warmth that touches your leg and you know exactly what it is - his cock rests heavy and hot on your skin. Slightly wet with pre-cum, it twitches between your thighs. You barely dare to peek down, not wanting to see what is about to happen.

“I’m gonna enjoy this.” Bill groans, buries his muzzle in your shoulder and pushes himself into you. He is incredibly thick and it burns. The feeling is unlike anything you’ve experienced before - raw fear for your life leaves you dry and clenched uncomfortably around his dick, making him snarl and hiss above you. You can feel your own tightness around him and fold your bound hands into nothing, fingernails digging themselves into your palms.

If only you had something to grasp, to make this more bearable. The only thing you can do now is grit your teeth and take it.

“Oh shit, princess”, he sighs, completely blissed out and without any regard for your pain. To your surprise, he bottoms out slowly and waits for you to adjust - or at least what he thinks adjusting is. You're still not ready when he finally starts fucking you in earnest, slow and deep. 

"Fuck-", Bill grits out directly into your ear, his voice muffled. "You got the perfect cunt, baby. So fucking- tight."

You pay little mind to his words, too focused on the steady push and pull, on the dry stab of his cock.

“Knew it when I first saw you that you'd be perfect for me. And I'm gonna-”, he moans obscenely loud as your cunt flutters around him. “I’m gonna fuck you full of my pups- just wait-” The thought of being pregnant with this monster’s child almost makes you weep. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”, he groans, his pace picking up. “My cute little wife. That’s what you’ll be, princess.” The sentence earns him another threatening growl from Evan. He only laughs in response, deep and unspeakably ugly. “Yeah, you’ll be perfect-”, his hips crash into yours as he fucks you even faster, the sound vulgar and loud in the otherwise silent shack. “I’m gonna make sure that this little cuck will cry himself to sleep for the rest of his life. Gonna give you a bunch of brats-” It’s clear that he’s just rambling now, too entrenched in his own pleasure. But the thought still makes you still freeze in fear, the very possible future of being with his child terrifying. He’ll give you at least one, to claim you. Ruin you forever.

You clench around him in fear and he loses it - snarling, drooling and almost hollering above you, he fucks you so hard your head gets pushed into the wall again, every thrust bending your neck into an awkward angle.

You know he has to be close now and you’re grateful for it. One, two heartbeats pass as keeps pounding you so hard you know you’ll feel his dick in you for days to come.

“Oh- fuck”, he grits out as he buries himself into fully, the stretch making you bite your cheeks to bear the pain. “I’m gonna knock you up-” And then he’s spilling himself into you, the hot, wet feeling of his cum deep within you. Bill yelps and shouts as he empties himself into you, various curses and praise peppered in between the moans. It takes him a good minute to calm down again, to collect himself.

Still a little out of breath, he smiles down at you with almost sadistic glee as he licks the side of your sweaty face. “Come on, cuck. Time to get your sloppy seconds.” He’s on his legs in a heartbeat, still marveling at the mess he made just seconds ago. “You better do it quickly because my swimmers are already working their way up there”, Bill laughs and all but shoves Evan out of the way as he goes back to his place in the corner. “Have fun, boy.”

The younger man is by your side in an instant.

“It's okay, honey, it's okay”, he whispers, those big green eyes filled with tears. He tries to soothe you and strokes the top of your head but the gesture only freaks you out more. “This is all my fault, and I'm sorry, so sorry.”

The apology would have been a little more sincere if his dick wasn’t already poking your thigh.

“Oh, darling”, he sighs tearfully. “I’m so sorry it had to be like this- I just- ”, he starts but interrupts himself with a hiccup. “I swear, if I had talked to you sooner-” Not even the snicker from Bill’s corner can snap him out of it. “But I’m gonna make it right. You’ll see, I’m gonna make it up to you, darling”, he babbles on, his words only unsettling you more and more. “You’ll have to forgive me, yeah? You have to.”

He’s a goddamn lunatic. 

You can’t help but look back at the older man, almost wanting him to intervene. Before you can make any eye contact, you’re pushed into a hairy chest by a tight hug. “I promise. But first, we’re gonna get through this”, Evan rumbles out above you, making the dread flare up again.

He wastes no time after that. You’re freed from his arms and placed on the ground - gently, but with unsteady hands. He looks as though he’s drooling above you, parting your legs and sniffing your belly with anticipation. His cock seems to be a little smaller than Bill’s, but considerably thicker - it bobs up and down as he licks your stomach, your tits and your neck, his tongue almost shy.

At least Bill’s cum serves as a lubricant, you think, as sick as it is. “My pretty girl”, he hums. “And soon all mine.”

And indeed, the stretch is almost bearable as he enters you. You’re glad he doesn’t reach as deep as Bill does because the speed at which he fucks you is sloppy and fast from the start - he pushes into you with so much need and desperation it knocks the air out of your lungs with every thrust.

“I love you”, he moans. “And we’re gonna- we’re gonna spend our lives together, yeah? I’m gonna take such good care of you-”

He’s talking himself into a frenzy, his words nothing but the lovesick rambles of a freak - they just make you feel more hollow. “Really love you, angel- oh-”

His muzzle opens and he kisses you over the duct tape, tongue pressed against the plastic and spit sliding down to the sides of your face. He doesn't seem to mind, not with the way he moves his jaw against your taped mouth, frantic and uncoordinated. It’s disgusting.

Unable to move away, you can only press your eyes together and let it run down your skin.

“You’ll love me too, I know it. Just know it-”, he pushes your hands onto your chest as a leverage to go even faster. “We were made for each other.” “We’ll forget about this and live happily ever after.” Now he sounds completely delusional.

His twisted little fantasy of domestic life with you only spurs him on, his moans getting more choppy and broken with every slap of his hips against yours. He seems to be a quicker shot than the older man, too hung up on his bizarre dreams and hopes. You thank whatever godly entity out there for it.

“Fuck- darling, I think I’m about to-”, he whines but doesn’t get any further before his orgasm rips through him.

You’re a proper mess now. The second load of cum feels obscene within you, all warm and sticky as it spills out around his dick and onto your quivering thighs. He fucks into you for another few, sloppy thrusts before he stops to catch his breath. Evan looks so calm suddenly - gone are the tears, the shakiness. He gently kisses the top of your head, the gesture tender. 

“You lovebirds okay?”, Bill says, his voice suddenly quiet, higher.

Evan’s head snaps again, a weak growl telling the other to stop his teasing. You use the shift to peek up from underneath  him, curious as to what changed. A naked man stands in that same corner in Bill’s stead, smoking a cigarette without a care in the world. Salt and pepper hair is fluffed up on his head, slightly greasy - your tired eyes have seen him once, you’re sure of it. 

“Like what you’re seeing, babe?”, he grins and whistles out some smoke. 

“Leave her be, Bill. She deserves some peace now.” He barks out a laugh, then takes another drag from his cigarette. “Yeah, yeah. I hear you.” Finally, Evan pulls out, forcing out an obscene amount of cum and fluids out of your abused cunt as he withdraws. It lands on the floor beneath you unceremoniously, the noise sickening. He caresses your stomach before he gets up, already contemplating how you’ll look like swollen with his child. “We’ll have to wait a little but she’ll stink like one of us soon”, Bill snickers at the sight, one chipped tooth just as pronounced as it is in his wolf form. He pats Evan on the shoulder in an almost brotherly fashion, both too worn out to fight anymore. Bill stomps out the cigarette with another sigh and stretches as though he is simply a little tired from a long day. He grins before holding the door open, the world outside already dark.

“Don’t worry, princess. We’ll be back tomorrow morning to make it stick.”

End note: And? Who would you pick? Maybe even both? Do tell me 👀💕

[swordfright]

What do you think is your most controversial dsmp take?

I got this ask a while ago and I've been wracking my brains trying to come up with something, but honestly...I don't think I really have many hot takes? At least, not ones that I'd consider controversial. Most of my controversial takes are about fanon/how the fandom interacts with the source material, which I assume isn't what you're looking for (but BOY DO I HAVE A LOT OF THOSE.) I also have likes and dislikes when it comes to duos and shipping stuff, but that's subjective obviously and more opinion than lore interpretation.

I guess if you put a gun to my head, I might say these are my most controversial Actual Lore Takes, but they're not all that interesting imo:

The experiments in the revival lab happened AFTER c!Dream's incarceration, not before it. My understanding is that most people interpret that sequence as occurring prior to the incarceration because...why would c!Dream let himself be locked up, relying on his knowledge of the book to be his life insurance, if he hadn't tested the damn thing out yet?! This logic tracks, but I think you could also flip it to argue the opposite: that he also could have conceivably waited to fully test the book until after escaping. During the run-up to the Disc Finale, c!Dream was incredibly busy with the fallout from Dethronement + Exile + Manburg related stuff etc, as well as busy preparing for the confrontation with c!Clingys, plus arranging the staged finale with Punz. The guy was busy as hell and he was also like...still kinda in the midst of a manic episode. Also, keep in mind that while the book was his life insurance for the finale and its immediate aftermath, he had no idea that c!Sam was going to betray him. Considering all that, I don't think it's inconceivable that c!Dream may not have had time to thoroughly test the limits of the revive book beforehand, and he likely didn't realize quite how vital his knowledge of revival would become during his incarceration period. So yeah. I'm open to either interpretation, but I am partial to the possibility that the Vikk and Lazar necromancy montage happened after the prison era. And the exact date/location of the lab are never specified either, which makes me even more open to the post-prison necromancy option. Not a hill I'd be willing to die on, but a hill I like to sit on and admire the view from.

End of Las Nevadas is the weakest stream of the Las Nevadas series. I found it narratively unsatisfying, and not in a clever way. I don't hate that stream, I think it had some really interesting moments, but overall I'd say its messaging was convoluted and the tension was pretty poorly mismanaged. I'd be willing to go on about this if you want, but I think a lot of other folks have probably already articulated it better than I can. Oh, I'll add that I also have complicated thoughts about c!Slime as a character. Don't hate him, don't love him...but I am puzzled about the role he was presumably meant to play in the story vs. the role he actually ends up playing. I could go on about this in detail but it's late and I'm sleepy.

c!Quackity has very simple goals and motives, but his pursuit of those goals is oftentimes way more convoluted than necessary, which ends up making him read as a more complex and dynamic character than he really is (I like this btw!) Another way to put it would be that Q is not a terribly complex character in terms of motivations and ambitions (dr3 has rly good meta on this btw), but he does tend to needlessly complicate his own life and the lives of the people around him in pursuit of simple goals. I think one of his big failings is that he sees violence as an easy solution to his problems but in reality it just creates more problems for him. It's like he keeps failing some sort of foresight check, over and over again. Take the formation of Las Nevadas, for instance. Most of the country's members were intimidated/threatened into joining, not because they're people Q particularly wants to hang around with, but because they're people Q sees as either strong (i.e. they are capable of contributing to LN) or directionless (i.e. they're in need of an owner a leader.) Quackity doesn't really forge alliances, he just...buys people, basically? And then he's shocked when this backfires. His relationship with Purpled is the most obvious example of this, but also LN as a whole: in LN5 (?), Quackity's angry and offended and hurt that only a tiny handful of people show up to the opening ceremony, even though by all accounts the reason the turn-out isn't bigger is because the server has by this point become a chaotic and violent place where anything can happen to anyone for any reason and most inhabitants feel safer sticking to their own turf...and that atmosphere of chaos and violence is something Q has ostensibly contributed to, even before Pandora. c!Quackity creates a country that no one is truly loyal to, inhabited by people who are closer to employees than allies...and then his solution, when he realizes nobody really gives a shit, isn't to try recruiting people in a more equitable way, it's to bioengineer a slime army. That is insane. That is an insane way to solve your problems. In no way is bioengineering a slime army a normal or well-adjusted solution to any conceivable problem. This is what I mean when I say he's a relatively uncomplicated character who complicates everything - he's constantly jumping through hoops of fire to avoid changing his behavior and taking any kind of accountability whatsoever.

I have tons more takes but they're mostly about silly subjective stuff and/or fanon, so I'll leave that for another day if anyone's interested.

[legolasghosty]

writing prompt of Juke as Enemies to Lovers + "you can throw how many darts at it as you want, but you still put her picture on your wall"

Anon, I am so so so sorry for how long this has taken! I swear my brain just hasn't been working for creative stuff and I'm sorry but here it finally is, I hope you find it!

-----

"I hate her," Luke growls as he enters the studio, slamming the door behind him.

"No you don't," Alex sighs from his corner of the couch, hunched over a history book.

Luke just shoots a glare at him. Alex rolls his eyes and grabs a pencil to start filling out the questions on his worksheet. Luke turns to Bobby, who is taking up the rest of the couch with his unfairly long legs.

"Don't look at me, dude," Bobby sighs, giving him a flat stare. "I'm with Alex on this one."

Alex reaches out and offers Bobby a fist bump without looking up. The two bump knuckles and Luke fumes.

"Do you guys even listen to me?" he exclaims. "Julie Molina is literally the bane of my existence."

At that, Reggie just starts laughing from his spot on the coffee table. "Really, Luke?" he teases. "Julie?"

Alex chuckles as well. "Yeah, not like, I don't know, biology or your curfew or the flu or something?"

"She's literally the worst person I have ever worked with!" Luke cries, fed up with the distinct lack of sympathy from his no longer best friends.

"You printed out her picture in the school yearbook to pin up on your wall," Bobby points out.

"For literal target practice!" Luke nearly yells. "And it's working, I've gotten pretty good at nailing that gap between her front teeth. And her eyes. And all the little colored things in her hair." When his bandmates don't say anything, Luke barrels on. "She won't say two words to me that aren't directly connected to this stupid assignment, she won't meet up anywhere other than school to work on it, and she glares at me for 'humming too loud', even though I know she's an amazing musician!"

Luke has hated Julie Molina for the better part of a year now, and it's easy for him to trace it back to its beginning. She'd performed in a spring recital at the school last year. She'd blown Luke's socks off with her incredible voice. It shook him down to his bones and he couldn't wait to find her afterwards and tell her how amazing it had been. He hadn't been able to find her, but hadn't worried much. They went to the same school after all.

But when he'd finally run into her a few weeks later near the bathrooms, she'd practically bitten his head off the second he called her a musician. And from that day on, Luke hated her. Because he can take people being rude to him, but turning on music?! Only a monster would do that. And in their interactions since then, she's only proven his point. She's a jerk.

"You can throw all the darts you want, but you still put her picture on your wall," Alex groans. "Have you tried actually having a civil conversation with her? Without talking about music?"

"What else would there be to talk about?" Luke demanded, kicking at the leg of the coffee table in pure frustration.

"Movies?" Reggie suggests.

"School?" Bobby adds.

"Literally any other interesting thing about life?" Alex finishes.

Luke lets out an angry huff and spins on his heel, heading for the bathroom. As soon as it slams shut behind him, Bobby lets his palm connect with his face.

"This is pointless," Reggie sighs. "Just got a text from Jules too, stating that Luke is a selfish moron."

Alex pulls out his phone. "I'm texting Flynn. If they aren't going to have a conversation themselves, then I swear I'm going to lock them in a closet until they do."

"I mean they're both already out," Bobby jokes, but he nods. "But yeah, I'm very sick of the headaches induced by them not realizing they're in love with each other."

"Ditto," Reggie says.

[femboymilkovich]

Hiiii, Sarah! It’s been a while since I’ve found myself in the inbox of my mutuals with a thoughtful question about our boys. However, we’re preparing for the hurricane down this way and I’m looking for something to keep me occupied — like talking to all of my beautiful lovely friends!!

So what I want to discuss today is the love language of our boys. What love language(s) do you think they each excel at and which one(s) do they struggle with the most? Do you think their love language(s) have changed since the beginning? Do you think they still excel or struggle with a certain one(s)?

I would also like to pick your brain on your thoughts of how they protect one another — how they protect one another physically, how they protect one another’s peace, how they protect each other mentally, etc! 🩵

— Much love, Chey

Chey! This was such a happy surprise! First, please be safe! But I am happy to indulge <333

Love languages are sooooooo incredibly important to me I'm so glad you asked!

I think mickey best feels loved by words of affirmation, mostly from Ian, I don't really think anyone else's opinion ever truly mattered more to him than Ian's. I think when he finally let the walls fall and let Ian in, he realized how nice it is to be reminded that he is important and worthy of love and admiration. I also think physical touch, both giving and receiving, not just sexually. Casual intimacy, a soft hand down his back to ground him, a firm squeeze on his knee, being able to communicate without words is his safety. I think he searches for the love he should have always had, and was robbed of. Having a violent childhood, he probably felt like he was never going to be given the love he craved, too afraid to be soft and punished for it. Which is why all of the little things, the flirty glances, teasing and joking around with Ian feels so heart wrenching. I think over the years it has definitely changed, I think he was doing a lot of acts of service for ian, especially when he is or was manic. The vitamins, checking him on risky behavior that would hurt him, making sure he takes his meds. Waaaah. I think Mickey has gone through periods of struggling with many aspects of communicating properly with Ian, sometimes intentionally as an act of defiance, but often I think it just boils down to what he was exposed to, never having had a proper example, and he will unintentionally cause hurt. I like to think now, he's much better about it and even if he does do something petty, he will, albeit begrudgingly, he will make it right.

I think Ian's main love language is acts of service, we love service top Ian. I think he feels so fulfilled by helping others, he is so used to being needed, as a son, a brother, a friend and a spouse. He finds purpose in it. We all know he provides that well in the bedroom buuuuuuuuutttttttttt I want to focus on the non-sexual aspects too because those are soooooo important. I think Ian thrives on helping Mickey specifically, helping him unwind at the end of the day, making him dinner, a massage? Hell yeah! I think quality time is another big one for him, as much time as he is willing to put into someone or something, he wants that to be reciprocated back to him, even if its just being present with him, parallel play anyone? 👀

As I mentioned earlier, Mickey often finds himself checking Ian, making sure he takes his meds, makes sure he's taken care of with his mental health which is not an easy thing to do, It is very complex and confusing and stressful, and yet Mickey takes it all. Even if he were the only one, Ian will always have Mickey there to take care of him. Ian is incredibly receptive and is able to pull mickey back down and ground him when he thinks he's about to do something that is not worth his time, or energy.

"Mick, pause" is huge to me, he knows how much hurt Mickey has over his dad, and knows that Terry doesn't deserve the consideration, but it was never for his benefit. He knew in that moment Mickey needed him to help him consider his actions, and made sure to reassure him later that he was proud of him and that he made the right choice and he will always be better than his father for that. His ability to grow, mature and amount to something.

We both know they love a good fight, and they are ready and willing to throw blows with anyone if the other is getting fucked with. Let them have a little violence as a treat!

This was so much fun to do, thank you for asking me! I hope I answered in a way that makes sense!

[lloydfrontera]

Oh that og lloyd returns and suho goes through the reincarnation gate ask and answer were incredible. I'm usually like happy ending and would have said that what if javier does the same where he goes to verkis and try to get suho lloyd and does bring him, because i can't imagine suho lloyd staying in seoul alone or worst, but then would it have a happy ending? with him there with og lloyd, he'll also have mixed feelings because it's not the og lloyd he talked at the train or its the same buy forgot their conversation

let's not forget the before suho lloyd comes back and weeks passed by already lorasia, the people of the county, the engineers, the white calvary, alicia, solitas, cordius, orcs, elf, sees og lloyd act and well this is not the person the person that they allied and spent time with

I sincerely agree with this "all in all. not a good time for anyone! which i think fucks i love this scenario it really woke up the brain worms <3"

about this

it's such a fun au because it makes everything immediately worse <3

i also tend to like happy endings more than anything else but i do admit i like putting my blorbos in situations even more salkdjsfds

and yeah javier definitely went looking for lloyd in this au too. probably even sooner than he did in canon lol. cause at least in canon he was certain that lloyd had just been reborn, he thought that he was lost to him forever, that the best he could get was to know if he was happy in his next life. in this version he wouldn't be so sure. after all lloyd crossed the gate and now og lloyd is back. so clearly the reincarnation gate doesn't work as straightforwardly as one might first have assumed.

i think the moment he snapped out of his "should i just throw him back" moment and the guilt over his momentary lapse of control passed he would've gone straight to the jewel of truth and asked what happened to lloyd. and then gone bother one of the most powerful beings in the universe into opening a portal to his bf.

fuck the consequences he wants his lloyd back goddammit

this would simultaneously make everything better and also worse.

better because at least now lloyd isn't, y'know, dead and so everyone who cares for him in whatever shape or form isn't mourning him. arcos and marbella would especially be overjoyed, because now they have all of their children together, they're all okay, they're all safe and this time it will probably stick. julian,,, would be conflicted because he now has to deal with the fact the brother he thought he knew had been lying to him for years and (non-maliciously as it might have been) tricked him into forgiving the person who made his life hell almost his entire life and now there's no handy grief to make it easy to overlook all of that. but i do think he would be very, very happy his hyung he loves and admires so much is alive and safe and now they can get to know each other for real.

worse because now lloyd isn't dead and og lloyd gets to see just how much everyone loves him. just how much respect and affection he earned, how much he achieved, how loved he became in just five years compared to what og lloyd did in his entire life. and man would that suck for the guy. like. genuinely would be a terrible thing to go through. but again. i don't think he would do anything about it. like. he wouldn't see the point. he'd be angry, he'd throw some epic tantrums but i don't think he would put in the effort to change his behavior.

in canon og lloyd achieved some kind of resignation and peace with his situation because he saw first hand the kind of stuff lloyd did, he followed him around, he saw how much effort he put in, the kind of things he went through... it's hard to deny someone has earned something when you see them put their sweat blood and tears into it.

in this au, this og lloyd doesn't get that. as far as he knows he passed out one night and then woke up five-ish years later to find that no only did some fucker walk around in his body for all that time but everyone that he knows is mourning the man. the fucking guy who stole his body. like. yeah i would kind of also be pissed i'm not gonna lie.

he doesn't know how bad things got, how hard it was to save the estate, hell, the entire country, he'd only see all the results and none of the struggles. he wouldn't get why people, his family especially, are so happy to have him back. and he'd get very angry about i think.

and to be fair his anger would be mostly outrage at lloyd stealing his body (unintentionally but still), jealousy and some genuinely hurt feelings. i do think he'd be understandably hurt that his family is apparently more concerned about the guy that impersonated him than for him who was gone for years (*cough* even if i do think he kind of earned it *cough*)

as for lloyd,,, yeah no this is not an ideal situation for him either. he'd be over the moon at being able to come back, don't get me wrong, that part wouldn't change, but to come face to face with the guy he accidentally replaced, whose family he kind of took as his, and who doesn't remember the conversation and tentative truce they came to in hell,,, definitely not how he hoped this would go.

i don't know if he would actually feel very guilty cause like. well at least the guy is alive now. and he's no longer doomed to a self-caused premature death. and he gets to live in a debt-free estate that's been turned into the most powerful territory of the whole continent. so like. he thinks og lloyd got a pretty good deal out of it. yeah losing five years sucks but he would've died a couple years ago anyway.

i do think he'd feel very awkward about calling arcos and marbella 'father' and 'mother' like he wanted to. if he already felt awkward in canon it would be even worse in this au with og lloyd glaring at him from a corner any time their parents so much at smile at him. i don't think it would stop him completely, but he'd definitely tone it down when they're all together.

let's not forget the before suho lloyd comes back and weeks passed by already lorasia, the people of the county, the engineers, the white calvary, alicia, solitas, cordius, orcs, elf, sees og lloyd act and well this is not the person the person that they allied and spent time with

ooff yeah, it's one thing in canon when lloyd just goes away and then comes back with a new face. here they would actually have to deal with the original guy and like. he sucks </3

i do wish we had more info about how much of the situation is public knowledge. we know a couple people know about the whole kim suho thing once he comes back but i don't know how much the fronteras would've told anyone about it beforehand. my guess would be nothing, because honestly it was none of their business lol but i guess in this au they would have to offer some kind of explanation. either they tell the truth or they pretend og lloyd has amnesia and that's why he's different of the way people expect him to be. either way i think it would be a very hard sell in either scenario. funny enough i think the lie is actually more believable in this case lol

again. not a great situation for anyone involved! which i think it's fantastic! maybe not to them but to me <3 which is the most important thing here <33

[7grandmel]

Todays rip: 24/04/2024

Guardian of the Ride Chasers

Season 4 Episode 1 No Album Release (Read More) Overdrive Ostrich Stage - Mega Man X2

Ripper Unknown

I really don't know what it is, but I woke up earlier this week with Black Parade (MMX Remix) specifically stuck in my head. I guess that's a disadvantage to running this blog - in writing, I tend to listen to the rip in question on repeat to get a good feel of the tone I want to go for, and in the process get tunes stuck in my head (Raft Ride, for instance, has still not left my innermost thoughts ever since The Incident.) But althesame, getting a Mega Man X arrangement rip stuck in my head got me fervently looking for more like it - because really, I think it was just my brain's way of telling me that it misses listening to Mega Man X music. It was through this that I wound up stumbling onto something big, a rip I'd entirely forgotten about and one that's STILL lacking a ripper credit even five years later - Guardian of the Ride Chasers, with no attachment to its origin or its ripper, fucking OWNS.

Mega Man X2 has a pretty different sound to the original Mega Man X in a way that's controversial in a lot of ways, yet the ripper has leveraged those differences to absolutely incredible lengths here. You can TELL that the guitar samples used are different, in some's eyes "whinier" - yet they lend themselves to the dramatic flair of the arranged track ever so well. So then...what is that arranged track? Funny enough, it's a source of music I was only made aware of through a SiIvaGunner project later in the same season - Guardian of the Former Sea, or the theme of the Desert Scourge boss, from the Terraria Calamity Mod. The game is as far away from my area of knowledge as you could come - I've hardly ever even touched the BASEGAME Terraria - but its legendary composer, DM DOKURO, was a name I got very familiar with entirely thanks to SiIvaGunner. Remember the King for Another Day Tournament? Yeah - amidst many other guest arrangers, DM DOKURO lent his incredible skills to a bevvy of arrangements for the event, including one I've covered on here before - September!

And like, that was how I was initially introduced to the Terraria Calamity mod as a whole! I've talked numerous times about how following SiIvaGunner has given me exposure to so many things I wouldn't have checked out otherwise, be it with Aphex Twin Snakes, Plantasia 2, Owner of a Mahjong Board or countless more, but its an entirely new level of cool to discover a composer through their guest contributions on the channel. As I mentioned before, Guardian of the Ride Chasers was already bound to work for me as someone hopelessly attached to the specific sound of the SNES Mega Man X games, but the rip only works as WELL as it does due to DM DOKURO's incredible work with the original track. I love how Mega Man X2's more varied sound in particular compared to the former and latter game resulted in the track being adapted pretty differently, in particular using the particular plink-plonk sounds from Bubble Crab's theme for a lot of the track to give the rip some really nice texture. It can be easy for a banger melody to be lost amidst samey instrumentation, a lot of lower-quality "but in the (blank) soundfont" have shown me just how bad it can really get - but the ripper went above and beyond in making the entire track sound absolutely brilliant in the conversion here.

All in all, Guardian of the Ride Chasers was a two-for-one kind of rip - both being an incredibly cool rip to listen to in its own right, and helping spread DM DOKURO's exceptional work outside of his target audience. Hopefully in making this post, you as the readers will now ALSO be reminded to go check out the other music from the Terraria Calamity Mod, or the other stuff by DM DOKURO in general - this rip is truly only scratching the surface.

[spinningbuster98]

Kraid's Lair can be a bit of a twisted joke

It's by far the easier to access between the 2 boss lairs but while it's technically the smallest it's insanely cramped and twisty by design making it really fucking easy to get lost and get killed by the atrocious enemy placement

You can actually find a Fake, blue Kraid here. I guess he's supposed to trick the player? But there's no way you'd find him without a guide honestly, finding the real Kraid is way easier by comparison

Kraid's fight is a mess, he constantly throws shit at you that you have no hope of dodging and those spikes of his often protect him from missiles and projectiles. The most surefire way of handling him is to just spam bombs on him, but that requires that you have the Varia Suit for extra defense and lots of Energy Tanks so that you can hope to kill him before he kills you

One thing I think Metroid 1 does actually really well despite its age is its general atmosphere: of course tha game doesn't have any explicitly scary moments like Fusion, and its character designs can be pretty fucking goofy (Ridley looks like Barney the Dinosaur, Kraid is like a fat, hairy mole and Samus looks like some dude in spandex wearing an oversized astronaut helmet), but the overall aesthetic of the game gives it a genuinely eerie feeling through the use of dark, "acid" colors, mostly mechanical and cold architecture and pitch black backgrounds which were most definitely to save memory space but genuinely sell the idea that the game takes place inside of a giant cave system

Then you add to this the music: yeah Brinstar's theme is catchy and heroic, but the themes of Norfair and Ridley's Lair sound genuinely dissonant and a bit disturbing. Kraid's Lair has my favorite track, being simultanously harmonic and unsettling.

I believe this game's composer, Hirokazu Tanaka, once stated that he purposefully made this soundtrack to be as unorthodox and "weird" as possible in order to drive home the game's unsettling feeling and well...mission accomplished! I still think that this game has some of the best ambience of the series, actually way better than its remake Zero Mission. In fact I think the original trilogy has geberally a much eerier atmosphere than all of the other games, Fusion included, but that's a topic for another day

So! Tourian!

Pro tip: don't bother killing the Metroids, just freeze them and let them go, 'cause you're gonna need all the missiles you have. Yeah it's a bit dumb that Samus' mission is to kill all the Metroids to prevent the Space Pirates from using them for galactic conquest....and yet it's better to leave them alone for ammo preservation. Well this place is gonna blow either way...

And then there's Mother Brain, who might as well have the power of Chaos Control because my God LOOK AT HOW MUCH SLOWDOWN THERE IS! Because of all the shit that those turrets fling at you every second the game just slows down to an absolute crawl and when you mix this with the cramped as fuck design of the room preventing you from dodging reliably and the fact that those zebetite pillars will start to regenerate almost immediately after you hit them, this fight sucks absolute ass and it's incredibly easy to just die over and over again!

I hope for your sake that you found the Varia Suit and the Screw Attack to deal with those Rinkas from Hell, and also that you don't screw up the final escape sequence with those tiny ass platforms!

I've always found it interesting how the game very nonchalantly told us that "space could be invaded by the other Metroid". Were they really so sure there was gonna be a sequel? This is one of my favorite aspects of the series: even though when you get down to it these games are basically written pretty episodically,much like other classic game series such as Zelda or Sonic, they almost always leave some general loose plot point that future games can exploit to make the series look like it has an overarching plot...evn though that's not really the case

Also yeah, Samus is a woman, what a surprise!

And before anyone says something: no. She wasn't made a woman in order to "challenge gender norms" or "for trans rep" or whatever. Those are very modern, 2010s/2020s views being applied to a videogame from the 1980s when games weren't exactly interested in politics or activism, let alone Nintendo games, and stuff like wanting to challenge gender norms were most likely not on most people's mind in the gaming business, or most contexts unfortunately.

I can't find the Interviews, but I believe this game's devs once stated that they can't even remember whose idea it was to make Samus a woman (most likely due to how chaotic the game's development was) but the general thought process seems to be that they wanted to give players a nice surprise for beating the game quickly enough and they also wanted to have an Ellen Ripley reference because Metroid borrows a lot from Alien.

I'm not saying that Samus holds no importance in the context of female heroines in gaming or feminism or whatever. I'm just saying that there's an important difference between saying that she BECAME an icon for female representation in games and saying that she was always MEANT to be one.

[because-she-goes]

luck be a lady

warnings: alcohol use, drug use if you squint, newly sober Matty, swearing, gambling. Enjoy!

author note: go try calimochos, they’re delicious and very easy to make at home!

It is 12am and a newly sober Matty makes his way to the casino floor from his lonely hotel room. The rest of the boys currently getting high in George’s room. He bid them farewell about an hour ago, excusing himself and them sympathetically understanding his need to leave.

His tie now undone, top two buttons of his wrinkled white shirt open, hair perfectly messy. He had to admit, he looked fucking hot tonight. Dress pants still miraculously creased down the center and worn in, scuffed brown shoes as comfortable as slippers. He adjusts his hair one last time, pulling it up and away from his face and licks his chapped lips. Sauntering out towards the roulette tables, he spots a bar. There is not a soul at the chairs surrounding it, the bartender taking the quiet moment to clean glasses. He decides to wait a bit and play a round of Texas hold ‘em with people much more knowledgeable about it than him. 20 minutes later, he is down $500 and decides to take the loss and quench the thirst thats been bothering him since he lost the first round against a lady named Susan who was in a Hawaiian shirt and had the worst smoker’s cough he’s ever heard.

Now making his way to the bar, he spots a girl. Not a girl, scratch that. An almighty. She is laughing at some probably horrendous joke the bartender just made. Head thrown back, raven hair cascading down her back, babydoll dress hugging her frame like it was crafted by Persephone herself. A flush covers her freckled cheeks and eyes the most incredible shade of cinnamon he has ever seen. Her laugh like Mozart to his ears. He takes the seat besides her, hands shaking excitedly in his lap.

“Yeah, Can I get whatever she is drinking mate? Thanks!” He asks the bartender who is now sending the new arrival death glares for interrupting their conversation.

“Its called kalimocho, I don’t know if you’ll like it. Might be too sweet for your tastes.” She informs him.

“Oh is that right? Whats in it, love? Just looks like red wine to me.” He abruptly replies, not meaning to come across curt, but probably sounding like a twat to the poor girl.

“Its red wine and some coca cola and a little lemon juice.” Her tone now reflecting his coldness. How dare he be so abrasive when he’s the one who sat next to her. How dare his neck look so pretty and practically begging to have a hand wrapped around it. How dare he look like a goddamn dream to her tired eyes.

“Okay, sounds good to me. I’ll still take one, mate.” He adds, looking towards the bartender in an attempt to smooth over some of the wrinkles in the conversation.

The bartender quickly makes another in a tall glass, adds an orange peel and hands it to Matty.

“What’s your name by the way, love? Might as well know it if we are going to drink together…” He nods in thanks to the bartender and slides him a tip that is well over the 20% normal in America. She doesn’t know if this is out of generosity or a way to get in her pants by flaunting his wealth. She gives him the benefit of the doubt and replies to the question.

“Nora. My name’s Nora. And yours?” She interjects. She takes a small sip of the cocktail awaiting his response. Desperately wanting to know this handsome stranger’s name.

“Matthew, but everyone calls me Matty. You can call me whatever you like, Darling.” He swiftly answers. Pleased with his answer, she throws him a wink. Mascara coated eyelashes accentuating her sultry makeup flawlessly.

He takes a swig of the cocktail, humming into the glass as the name Nora fills his brain. How sweet. How gentle. How totally perfect of a name for such a creature as she.

“Will do, handsome.” She brazenly flirts. “Would you wanna go play some roulette or a slot machine by any chance? Stretch our legs a bit?” She adds, hoping he’ll accept her offer.

“With you? I’ll do anything, love.” He gets up and walks with her to the slots. He takes a minute and admires the way she can be so comfortable in a place like this - with drunken men much older than her surely oogling and ogling at her every movement. He commends her for being so confident i herself and completely strong while being a lamb surrounded by lions. Matty’s face shrivels up and shoulder shake in disgust at the repulsive thoughts the men must be thinking about her. She takes a seat getting ready to put her cash into the machine, startled when she feels his strong, long fingers squeezing around her shoulder and stupidly perfect lips dip in towards her ear.

“Luck be a lady, baby.” He whispers, nipping at her earlobe.

She practically moans, shivering as various vile thoughts begin to cloud her judgement. Goosebumps covering her skin.

“Don’t fuck with me right now, Handsome.” She clips, not wanting the distraction as her nerves build. Pressing the button to start the machine, anticipation killing her.

He smirks at the effect his small action has on her, intelligent eyes roaming over her and the screen waiting for the result.

A few moments later, sirens start blaring, the screen illuminating brightly with neon colors. They read the screen in awe….

“Jackpot, $35,000 dollars…….” They mutter in shock. Surely, she’s dreaming. None of this can be real. Not him. Not his hands on her shoulders. Not his eyes now staring at her in awe. Not his lips parting perfectly as he gasps.

Coming back to reality, she leaps up from the seat as he takes her in his arms. The muscles in his arms wrapping tightly around her waist, her chest pressing into his, she stands on the balls of her feet in order to reach him. He glances down for half a second over her shoulder and catches the glimpse of her butt in that dress. He nearly drops to his knees right then and there, willing and ready in-front of the whole casino. He reels himself in, coming back ti the goddess in-front of him. Nora, the name consuming his every thought. God, what he would give to say her name like a prayer in the dark of the night.

He kisses her deeply, hungrily, needy. She kisses him like her life relies on it. The both of them drinking the other in and only releasing when their collective oxygen runs out. All of the people around them disappear. They don’t notice the guy walking over to her with the cash filled suitcase. They don’t notice the machine’s sounds and lights anymore. They don’t notice the whole casino clapping and cheering.

In that moment, it is just them. Him and Her. Nothing else.

[godsfavdarling]

08 poolside pretense

list of chapters, also available on wattpad and Ao3, my masterlist pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!oc summary: Spencer and Brittany go to Las Vegas for the wedding. warnings: none words: 4k

The roar of the plane's engines filled the cabin as Spencer glanced out the window, watching the ground shrink beneath them. 

He could feel the tension radiating from Brittany beside him. Her knuckles were white as she clutched the armrest, her breaths coming in short, shallow bursts.

"Hey, Brittany, look at me," Spencer said softly, placing a reassuring hand on her arm. "We're going to be in Vegas before you know it."

Brittany forced a shaky smile, her eyes flitting nervously between Spencer and the window. "Thanks. I just... I hate flying."

"I know," Spencer replied, “But we’ll be back on the ground before you know it.”

Brittany nodded, her grip on the armrest loosening slightly. "Yeah, you're right. I just need to keep thinking about the wedding."

Spencer leaned back in his seat, racking his brain. "So, tell me more about your family," Spencer prompted gently, sensing Brittany's need for distraction.

Brittany sighed, a hint of exasperation in her voice. "Well, there's my mom, Barbara, and my dad, Brian. And then there's my sisters, Beth and Brooke."

Spencer listened intently as Brittany continued, her words tumbling out in a rush. "It's kind of embarrassing, actually. We all have B names. It's like my parents were on a mission or something."

Spencer couldn't help but chuckle at Brittany's description. "I think it's kind of sweet, actually. It's like your family has its own little theme going on."

Brittany rolled her eyes playfully. "Yeah, well, try telling that to Brooke. She had to go and marry a guy named Ben. Now they have kids named Brandon, Bridgit, and Blaine. The alliteration is out of control."

Spencer grinned, finding it hard to stifle his laughter. "Wow, your family really is committed to the B, huh? What about Beth? Is her fiancé in on the trend too?"

Brittany shook her head, a smirk playing on her lips. "Thankfully not. His name is Chad. It's a welcome break from the alliteration madness."

"What do your parents do? I guess I need to know more details to successfully pull off being your boyfriend."

Brittany laughed as she launched into an animated description. "My dad is a real estate developer, and my mom is a lawyer."

Spencer nodded, impressed by the success of Brittany's parents. "Sounds like they've done well for themselves. Do they still live in Vegas?"

Brittany nodded. "Yeah, they have this huge house in the suburbs, with a pool and everything. It's where we're all staying for the wedding. And Brooke and Beth both followed in our mom's footsteps and became lawyers."

Spencer nodded, intrigued. "That's interesting. Law runs in the family?"

Brittany chuckled. "Yeah, you could say that. Brooke works at a prestigious firm downtown, specializing in corporate law. She's always been the ambitious one, driven to succeed."

"And Beth?" Spencer asked, eager to learn more.

Brittany smiled. "Beth took a slightly different path. She's a paralegal at a smaller firm, but she's just as passionate about her work. She's got this incredible attention to detail that's perfect… for the job."

Spencer nodded, impressed. "It sounds like they're both doing well for themselves."

Brittany nodded. "Yeah, they are. They've always been the responsible ones, while I... Well, let's just say I took a different route."

"Do you like teaching?" Spencer inquired, genuine curiosity lacing his voice.

Brittany paused for a moment, considering her response. "You know I do. It's not always easy, but there's something incredibly rewarding about it. I love seeing young minds working and opening up to new ideas and perspectives."

Spencer nodded, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "I agree. I love it too! It’s incredibly fulfilling."

"It is," Brittany affirmed, a hint of wistfulness in her tone. "Plus I can pursue my own research interests. I get to contribute in my own way."

Brittany's smile faltered slightly, a shadow passing over her features. "But still they don’t quite understand my career choice. My decision to pursue academia... Well, let's just say it hasn't always been met with the same level of enthusiasm. Especially in my field. So if we’re gonna be met with some opinions… ignore them."

As the plane hummed along toward their destination, Spencer and Brittany found themselves deep in conversation about their upcoming role as a pretend couple.

"So, how are we going to present ourselves as a couple?" Spencer asked, his brow furrowing slightly with concern.

Brittany pondered for a moment before responding, "I was thinking we could say we met at work and have been dating for a few months. Maybe we can hold hands and hug sometimes, just to make it believable. Are you okay with that?"

Spencer's initial instinctual reaction flickered across his face briefly before he nodded. "Yeah, I think I can manage that."

"Great, I'm glad you're on board with the plan."

She took a deep breath before continuing, "And don't worry too much about the physical contact. I know you're a bit of a germaphobe. But remember, it's just acting, and it's me and I wash my hands all the time! We'll keep it minimal."

Spencer nodded in agreement, a small smile playing on his lips. "It’s okay. We'll make it work."

Brittany returned his smile, feeling a sense of relief wash over her. "Thanks. And besides, this weekend is all about Beth. I doubt anyone will be paying much attention to us anyway."

As the plane descended toward the Las Vegas airport, Spencer looked at Brittany who had been asleep for the majority of the flight. 

He had observed her peaceful slumber earlier, her rhythmic breathing a testament to her deep rest.

He couldn't help but feel a sense of fondness as he watched her serene expression. 

With a gentle smile, Spencer reached out to lightly touch her arm, rousing her from her sleep. "Hey, Brittany, we're about to land."

Brittany stirred awake, blinking sleepily as she adjusted to her surroundings. "Already? I must have dozed off."

Spencer nodded, offering her an understanding smile. "Yeah, we'll be landing soon."

With their belongings in tow, Spencer and Brittany made their way off the plane and into the bustling airport terminal. They were met by the sight of Brittany's father, who stood waiting for them near the baggage claim area.

"Dad!" Brittany exclaimed, a bright smile lighting up her face as she hurried over to greet him.

"Hey, sweetheart," her dad replied, enveloping her in a warm hug. His gaze then shifted to Spencer, and he raised an eyebrow inquisitively.

Brittany turned to Spencer, a proud smile on her lips. "Dad, this is Dr. Spencer Reid. He's my boyfriend."

Her dad's eyes widened in surprise, and he shot Brittany a bemused look. "Boyfriend, huh? Why didn't you mention anything about him at Christmas?"

Brittany's cheeks flushed slightly as she glanced at Spencer, silently urging him to play along. "Uh, it's a recent development, Dad. I wanted to wait until it was official."

Spencer nodded in agreement, offering her father a friendly smile. "It's nice to meet you, sir. Brittany has told me a lot about you."

Her dad's expression softened slightly as he shook Spencer's hand. "Likewise. So, Dr. Reid, what do you do?"

Spencer took a deep breath, bracing himself for the inevitable interrogation. "Well now I teach at Georgetown just like Brittany, but for almost two decades I was a behavioral analysis expert with the FBI."

Brittany's dad's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "FBI, huh? That's impressive. What do you teach?" he inquired, his tone polite but intrigued.

Spencer paused for a moment, considering his response. "Mostly criminal psychology," he replied, his voice steady despite the underlying tension.

Brittany's father raised an eyebrow, his interest piqued. "Criminal psychology, huh? That sounds fascinating. What exactly does that entail?"

Spencer took a deep breath, preparing himself to explain. "Well, it's the study of the thoughts, feelings, and behaviors of criminals. I focus on understanding why people commit crimes and how we can prevent and solve them."

Brittany's father nodded, seeming to mull over Spencer's explanation. "Impressive. Well, it's good to have you both here. Let's get going. Your mom's been waiting to see you, Brittany."

As they made their way through the airport, Spencer couldn't help but feel a sense of relief that Brittany's dad's questioning had been relatively mild. He knew this was just the beginning of what was sure to be an eventful weekend.

Brittany led Spencer through the grand foyer of her family's Las Vegas home and she couldn't help but feel a mix of excitement and apprehension. 

This was the first time Spencer would meet her entire family, and she hoped everything would go smoothly. 

"Everyone, this is Spencer," Brittany announced with a smile, her hand resting on his arm. "Spencer, meet my sisters, Brooke and Beth, their partners Chad and Ben, and of course, my mom, Barbara."

Spencer returned their greetings with a polite nod and a warm smile, taking note of the striking resemblance between Brittany, her sisters, and their mother. 

They all shared the same jet-black hair, but Brittany's locks cascaded down her back in long, flowing waves, contrasting with the shorter styles of the other women. Additionally, she stood out as the tallest among them, likely inheriting her height from her father.

"Nice to meet you all," Spencer said, his voice sincere as he greeted each of them.

"It's a pleasure to finally meet you, Spencer." said Barbara as she tried to envelop Spencer in a warm hug, he couldn't suppress the instinctual flinch that ran through him. 

Spencer gently stepped back, his expression apologetic. "I'm sorry, I'm a bit of a germaphobe," he admitted, his voice tinged with embarrassment.

"Oh it’s okay. I’m so happy you guys are here!"

Spencer smiled, feeling a sense of relief at their warm reception. He had been nervous about meeting Brittany's family, but their kindness put him at ease.

As the introductions continued, Brittany led Spencer on a tour of the house, showing him the grandeur of their family home. They explored the spacious living areas, the elegant dining room, and even ventured outside to admire the sparkling pool.

Eventually, they made their way to the bedroom they would be sharing during their stay. As they entered the room, Brittany hesitated for a moment before turning to Spencer, her expression filled with concern.

"I hope you don't mind sharing a room, Brittany said, chewing on her lower lip. "It's just for the weekend, and it'll make things easier for us to… keep up appearances."

Spencer glanced around the room, taking in the plush furnishings and the king-sized bed. Despite his nerves, he couldn't deny the allure of spending more time with Brittany.

"It's no problem at all." Spencer reassured her, offering her a reassuring smile.

“I'm going to take a quick swim," she announced, excitement sparkling in her eyes. "The water looks so inviting, and I could use a bit of relaxation before tonight."

"Isn't the water a bit cold for a swim?" he asked, concern creasing his brow.

Brittany laughed, shaking her head. "Maybe for some, but I like it." she replied with a grin.

Spencer nodded in understanding, unable to argue with her logic. "Sounds good. I'll join you. I mean I’ll just… sit outside for a while,"

Brittany beamed at him before rummaging through her suitcase to grab her bathing suit and a towel. "I'll change quickly and meet you out there," she said, disappearing into the bathroom.

Spencer made his way outside, taking a seat by the pool and basking in the warmth of the Las Vegas sun.

After a few minutes, Brittany emerged, her figure adorned in a sleek black bathing suit that hugged her curves in all the right places. Spencer's breath caught in his throat as he took in the sight of her, feeling a rush of warmth spread through him at the sight.

It was the first time he had seen her in such attire, and he couldn't deny how stunning she looked. His gaze lingered on her figure momentarily before he turned his attention back to the pool.

He couldn't help but feel a sense of contentment wash over him. The sound of splashing water filled the air as Brittany gracefully glided through the pool, her bathing suit glistening in the sunlight.

The peaceful moment, however, was soon interrupted by the approach of Brittany's sisters, Brooke and Beth, accompanied by their partners.

"Hey there, Spencer!" Brooke greeted cheerfully, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. "It's nice to finally meet one of Brittany’s boyfriends."

Spencer smiled politely, feeling a flicker of unease at the sudden barrage of attention. "Likewise. It's great to meet all of you too."

Beth, Brittany's younger sister, leaned in closer, her expression filled with intrigue. "So, where are you from, Spencer? Brittany never brings her boyfriends home, so this is a bit of a surprise for us."

Spencer shifted uncomfortably in his seat, acutely aware of Brittany's presence as she continued her laps in the pool. "I'm from Las Vegas, actually. Born and raised."

“Oh that's so cool!” Brooke exclaimed with enthusiasm.

Her partner, Ben, chimed in with another question. "And what do you do for a living, Spencer?"

Spencer hesitated for a moment, unsure of how much to reveal. "I work with Brittany but I used to be in the FBI. It’s a fresh change." he replied, keeping his response deliberately vague.

Brooke and Beth exchanged surprised glances, clearly taken aback by Spencer's profession. 

"Wow, that's impressive," Brooke exclaimed, her tone tinged with admiration. "Brittany, you never told us you were dating a federal agent."

Spencer glanced over at Brittany, who had paused her swimming to listen to their conversation. He offered her a reassuring smile, silently grateful for her presence amidst the interrogation.

As the sun began to dip below the horizon, casting a warm glow over the Las Vegas skyline, Brittany and Spencer retreated to their shared room to prepare for the evening's rehearsal dinner. 

Brittany stood before the mirror, her fingers deftly arranging her hair into an elegant updo, her reflection shimmering in the soft light of the room. 

Spencer hovered nearby, his movements hesitant as he rummaged through his suitcase in search of suitable attire for the occasion.

As he glanced over at Brittany, a pang of self-consciousness washed over him. Sharing a room with her felt oddly intimate.

He couldn't shake the feeling that he was intruding on her space, invading her privacy in a way that made him distinctly uncomfortable.

Sensing his unease, Brittany turned to him with a warm smile, her eyes soft with understanding. "Are you okay, Spencer?" she asked gently, her voice filled with concern.

Spencer offered her a tight-lipped smile, his discomfort evident in his expression. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just... adjusting to the whole sharing a room thing. I don’t wanna invade your space"

Brittany nodded sympathetically, her gaze lingering on him with a mixture of empathy and reassurance. "You don’t. I know it's not ideal, but it's just for the weekend."

With a shared nod of agreement, they returned to their respective tasks, the awkwardness between them gradually dissipating as they focused on preparing for the evening ahead. 

Spencer quickly changed into a dark gray suit, while Brittany slipped into a black cocktail dress that accentuated her frame.

With one last glance in the mirror, Brittany turned to Spencer with a smile, her eyes sparkling with anticipation. "Ready to go?"

Spencer nodded, returning her smile with a sense of determination. "Ready as I'll ever be," he affirmed. 

He was fidgeting with his tie and Brittany stepped forward, her fingers deftly adjusting the knot with a gentle touch. "Let me help you with that," she offered kindly, her eyes meeting his with a reassuring gaze. 

As the evening unfolded at the rehearsal dinner, Brittany's prediction proved true – the focus was largely on Beth and her fiancé, allowing Brittany and Spencer to navigate the social gathering with relative ease. 

Amidst the lively conversations and clinking of glasses, Spencer found himself engaging in pleasant small talk with Brittany's family, his earlier apprehensions gradually fading into the background.

However, as the night wore on and the conversations veered towards more personal topics, Spencer found himself facing a new challenge. 

Brittany's mother, Barbara, turned her attention towards him.

"So, Spencer, tell me, do you have any free time outside of your job?" Barbara inquired, her tone laced with genuine curiosity.

Spencer considered her question for a moment, weighing his response carefully. "I do try to make time for other pursuits outside of work," he replied diplomatically, choosing his words with caution.

Barbara's expression softened, a hint of maternal concern in her eyes. "That's good to hear. And what about kids? How do you feel about starting a family someday?"

Spencer hesitated, his gaze flickering towards Brittany, who remained silent beside him, her expression carefully neutral. 

Sensing the tension in the air, he felt a protective instinct rise within him, a desire to shield Brittany from the expectations that weighed heavily upon her.

"I love kids," Spencer replied honestly, his voice steady. "I think they're amazing."

Barbara's smile widened, her eyes lighting up with excitement. "Well, I must admit, I'm still waiting for those grandkids," she remarked, her gaze drifting towards Brittany expectantly.

Spencer's heart clenched at the subtle pressure in Barbara's words, the unspoken expectation that Brittany would someday fulfill her role as a mother. 

With a surge of resolve, he found himself speaking up, a quiet defiance in his voice.

"But Barbara, you already have grandkids," Spencer stated, his tone gentle yet firm.

Spencer's statement hung in the air, his tone carrying a mix of assertion and tension. Barbara's expression shifted, her features contorted with surprise and a touch of frustration.

Her eyes narrowed, her voice tinged with skepticism. "Oh you know what I mean. I want to see… more grandchildren, you understand."

Spencer's jaw tightened, his resolve hardening as he met Barbara's gaze head-on. "I understand," he replied evenly. "But Brittany is a wonderful daughter, regardless of whether she has children or not."

Barbara sighed, her frustration evident in her tone. "Spencer, you're not a mother. You can't understand the longing I have to see my daughter experience the joys of motherhood."

Before Spencer could respond, Brittany interjected, her voice surprisingly sharp. "Actually, Mom, I do have a child," she said, her words laced with tension.

Barbara's eyes widened in surprise, her gaze flickering between Brittany and Spencer. "You do?"

Brittany nodded, her jaw set with determination. "Yes, his name is Albert."

Barbara's eyes narrowed, a hint of exasperation creeping into her voice. "That's a cat, Britt! Stop trying to be funny," she said sharply, her tone bordering on frustration. "I just want what's best for you."

Brittany's shoulders tensed, a flicker of defiance in her gaze. "I am happy!" she countered, her voice tinged with frustration. "I don't need a child to be happy."

Barbara sighed, her tone softening slightly as she reached out to her daughter. "But would you want to be a mother?" she asked gently, her eyes searching Brittany's face. "You're only getting older, not younger, honey."

Brittany's jaw tightened, her mind racing with conflicting emotions. "Maybe I would," she admitted reluctantly, her voice tinged with uncertainty. "But what am I supposed to do?"

Spencer watched the exchange in silence, his heart heavy with empathy for Brittany.

As he glanced at Brittany, he saw the weight of her mother's words bearing down on her, the struggle written plainly on her face.

Brittany's shoulders tensed, her gaze flickering towards Spencer for support. In that moment, she felt torn between her mother's expectations and her own desires, the weight of their conflicting aspirations pressing down upon her.

He placed a reassuring hand on Brittany's.

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

Spencer sat on the edge of the bed, his fingers tapping rhythmically against his thumb on his left hand. The repetitive motion seemed to soothe him as he tried to calm his racing thoughts.

Brittany, in the midst of removing her earrings, glanced over at him with concern evident in her eyes.

"Spencer, are you okay?" she asked gently, pausing in her task to give him her full attention.

He stopped his tapping and looked up, meeting her gaze with a faint smile. "Yeah, I'm fine. Sorry," he replied, his voice soft but strained.

"Don't be. If doing that makes you feel better, you shouldn't stop," Brittany reassured him, her tone filled with understanding.

"I think I'm just overwhelmed. Long day," Spencer admitted, his shoulders sagging with exhaustion. His fingers resumed their rhythmic tapping against his thumb.

"I get it," Brittany nodded sympathetically. "It's okay if you're not."

"I don't want to worry you," Spencer murmured, his gaze flickering away uneasily.

"You don't. Just tell me what you need. If you'd rather be alone, it's okay, or... I don't know. I can get you water? Tea?" Brittany offered, her voice soft and comforting.

"Water would be great actually," Spencer replied gratefully, his tension easing slightly at her kindness.

"Okay," Brittany said, rising from her seat to fetch two glasses of water. She returned moments later and handed one to Spencer with a gentle smile. "Here you go."

"Thanks," Spencer murmured, taking the glass from her with a small smile of appreciation.

"Can I ask you a question? A personal one… You don't have to answer if you don't want to," Brittany said, settling into a chair near the bed.

"Sure," Spencer replied, his curiosity piqued.

"I'm sorry if it's inappropriate, but... Are you autistic?" Brittany asked delicately, her gaze filled with genuine curiosity.

Spencer chuckled softly, a wistful smile playing on his lips. "Umm... yeah. I am. I've never been officially diagnosed, but it's... pretty obvious."

"Why didn't you get a diagnosis? Especially as a kid?" Brittany inquired, her voice laced with empathy.

"Well, it... just never happened. It wasn't a priority, I guess, and I always managed," Spencer explained, his tone tinged with sadness. 

"My mom is a paranoid schizophrenic, and it's been just the two of us since I was 10. I kind of took care of her more than... Well, she got bad, and I put her in a mental health institution when I was 18.

And then at the FBI, if I was diagnosed, it would just make stuff harder. You know... working in the field. So everyone always knew, but we didn't talk about it. 

Also, I'm not sure they fully ever understood it. I've been masking for most of my life... to, you know, make stuff easier."

"For others or for you?" Brittany asked gently, her eyes filled with compassion.

Spencer's gaze flickered away for a moment before he met her eyes again. "Both," he admitted quietly, his vulnerability laid bare.

"I'm sorry. That's awful," Brittany murmured, her heart aching for him.

"I'm okay," Spencer assured her, his tone gentle but firm.

"I know you are, but... hiding stuff and pretending just to make others comfortable sounds... awful and… tiring," Brittany remarked, her voice filled with empathy. 

"If you ever need something, tell me. You don't have to pretend with me. Besides, I don't think you could."

"Thanks... and you're right… I don't think I could," Spencer admitted, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

"Are you still okay with sharing the bed? We don't have to," Brittany offered, her concern evident in her voice.

"I'm okay. I just want you to be comfortable. And if you're not with me..." Spencer trailed off, his expression filled with uncertainty.

"I am. It’s okay," Brittany reassured him with a soft smile.

He chuckled softly as he glanced down at her feet, noticing she was still wearing tall, black stilettos. 

"Do your feet hurt?" he asked, genuine concern coloring his tone.

"No... I'm used to it. Do you want to get in the shower first or can I go?" Brittany offered with consideration for his comfort.

"Sure, you can go," Spencer replied, nodding in agreement.

"Okay," Brittany said, gathering her belongings before heading to the bathroom. 

Once she finished, she emerged in her matching black pajama set, looking comfortable and relaxed. 

Later Spencer returned from the bathroom, wearing his own checked pajamas, and couldn't help but notice Brittany's amused expression.

"What?" he asked, a hint of curiosity in his voice.

"Nothing, you just look cute in your pajamas," Brittany teased, a playful smile dancing on her lips.

"Thank you?" Spencer replied, a faint blush coloring his cheeks at the unexpected compliment.

"Is it okay if I read for a while?" he asked, seeking her permission.

"Yeah," Brittany replied, slipping her black sleeping eye mask over her eyes and turning off her bedside lamp. "Goodnight," she added softly.

"Goodnight," Spencer echoed, feeling a sense of warmth settle over him as he settled in to read.

"Hey, Spencer..." Brittany's voice interrupted the quiet, causing him to look up.

"Yeah?" he asked, curious.

"If anything's wrong, wake me up. It's okay," Brittany said, her voice filled with sincerity.

"Okay. Thanks," Spencer replied, feeling a sense of comfort wash over him at her words.

[thehandwixard]

well friends and lovers i am officially one hour into kingdom hearts 1 on steam! i will be taking frequent breaks because i get motion sick very easily and i refuse to let that taint my experience. some notes!

i am still on destiny island

this game starts off very... not conceptual, but close to it right off the bat. it commands a certain kind of drama you either get or you dont, and i am certainly primed to give it all ive got, so im loving it. there's a surprising amount of dialogue you can get from tidus selphie and wakka on destiny island that give a bit more context into the kids' lives, and its illuminating.

the major thread im picking up on is that many of the kids think they know what the others are thinking, and don't at all. it's even easy for the player to look at sora and say that compared to riku and kairi, he doesn't seem to have a lot on his mind, but that's not true, and the player knows its true because of the dream.

"i've been having these weird thoughts lately. Like, is any of this for real, or not?" as the opening lines of kh before the opening movie have stuck in my brain since i saw them. anyways its easy to forget just how lovable these kids are. i forgot how cute the disney scenes are too, i can say this for the cutscenes in general but while theyre a little clunky at times, theres a lot of heart in them. as much drama that the original character cutscenes command from the outset, the early disney scenes bring forward as much like. whimsy and slapstick. its just a very charming opening hour with the deep sense of "ah. so no one knows what is happening"

thoughts are scattered. get used to that because of liveblog purposes. i'm just incredibly happy right now. The controls will take some getting used to, and i might have to switch the camera to auto. i chose the path of the mystic, so thatll cause me problems no doubt but sue me i like magic. i was not able to beat riku. sora has no movement tech. no maidens. his bitch isnt bad enough.

but like yeah selphie does small stuff like talk about how wakka probably hasnt noticed kairi riku and sora doing stuff, but he does. one example. these kids dont really know whats going on in eachother's heads.. also strikes me how explicitly they do consider destiny islands a kind of paradise away from their parents' nagging, and how despite wakka being the oldest, riku is far and away considered the most capable. sora comes off as very quiet in a certain way, and its a vibe i really enjoy. no one pretends to understand riku, but he explains himself pretty clearly. vibes are good. the door is not yet open

[kheprriverse]

pspspspspsps

the language of Termina that you showed in a wip with Terminus and Time interacting...is that from anywhere in particular, or did you create it? I'm very curious for details! 👀✨

[I hit a button on accident (twice) when nearly done with this and it reverted and deleted basically everything (twice) so please excuse any sorta messy un-hinged-ness to my writing here. Plz take Ctrl+Z away from me I'm begging you]

but AAAA!! ty for the ask as well as the kind words and general interest in the reblogs! And you wanted me to infodump so... uh below the cut will have my brain garbage flung out until I decide to stop typing. Enjoy!

For now what's in the post is a complete mix of things.

I was delving into some fan-created Hylian languages, but mostly used the font from here (which its all a very interesting read even if its incredibly old) for now as a placeholder. Because I DO plan to delve deeper into Terminian sometime in the future, along with some cultural stuff.

As for what it says, its totally scrambled nonsense LMAO. English translated poorly into japanese, written backwards, then scrambled a little, then flipped XD

I was going to be somewhat simple with the post and just using OOT/MM's script and maybe jumbling it, but in going through fan-made languages I sorta fell in love with the font that I ended up using. It IS a placeholder though and not meant to be insanely accurate to anything let alone easily deciphered.

Buuut in case you wanted to know what's actually being said I have it written out already!

Terminus taking the time to shit on Legend for no other reason then that he just can. Much to Time's displeasure.

I decided to scrap the short comic. But I liked the idea of Time and Terminus both being able to converse with one another privately (without the rather invasive mental connection they have with each other).

I like the idea that the hylian languages across the eras are so similar, enough to where the boys can MOSTLY understand one another in speech (but maybe not in writing). Then as they travel over time, things become easier and easier.

But Terminian?? Not a single one of them knows it or has even HEARD of Termina until FD came along and Time had to spill the beans. They probably didn't even know a separate, completely different, language like this even existed. Much like Mudoran in lttp.

Things I wanna focus on/keep in mind when working on this:

What was the cultural impact FD (dubbed Terminus by the boys) had on Termina? (What came first: the chicken or the egg? Also what is his role here?)

How does termina's culture compare to Hyrule? (holidays, food, beliefs, history, etc)

What does the language look like? Do I want it to be Syllabary? Abugida? Alphabetic? I'm personally leaning towards Syllabary but other forms of writing have interesting potential. Whereas Alphabetic (like some of the other hylian scripts) would be easier to work with.

What does it sound like? I feel like this would be where Terminian and Hylian experiences a sort of disconnect (especially if we go with an alphabet system). I've thought of a very stilted(?) almost reversed way of sound -- like smth isn't entirely right and just feels strange. But to residents of Termina it's completely normal and very easy to speak.

Termina is a very strange place and I really wanna play into it. I'm also very happy that you showed interest in this because it allows me to say stuff I normally would've just kept to myself.

Also I plan to delve into a Twilit language, culture, and just generally the whole world, too. Because yeah ofc we're going there. I am simply coping.

[i-sveikata]

Hello, I just wanted to write that I re-read the last chapter again (I can’t stop) Your fanfic is what kept my mental health going (it was a really hard year) over the past year and I’m grateful for that 🥰But I was so immersed in this story, on  at the moment this is the only ff that I read on this fandom, and it should already be so (for more than a year now, it’s incredible)😊I like that the characters are so alive, the feelings are so vivid, and they are so intertwined with depth and important themes and also  with sex (Vegas's pov still haunts me, I'm really looking forward to reading some kind of sexual experience from his point of view, because he's just so bad for it, AND VERY HOT), but we know that he hides his  real emotions 👀I’m looking forward to how events will develop further, you are so talented 💘It’s so incredible that you can write such a beautiful, emotional story for FREE that will find such a response in many, I’ve been here for a year now and I’ll wait as long as you want to  enjoy this work and read how these two live their happy twisted life (and this is just my wish...in my head it’s a canon that they killed Korn, ehhh dreams)😈At the end I want to wish you health and send hugs 🫂 And if possible,  can I have a little spoiler about “Vegas will do something stupid, and Pete will do something even worse” I’m so interested 😭😭😭 But if not, then I’m okay with it and ready to wait further 💜 P.S. I’m not a native English speaker, I hope everyone is here  It's clear

oh hello there!!! oh my gosh that honestly means so much to hear that and im so happy it could offer something meaningful during the past year though i do hope this year treats you better!!

ahhhhhhh thank you so much!!! im so glad you think i brought it to life that way!! oh wow yes his pov is very much diving under the surface of what Pete has been interpreting this entire time. wow yes and if there is a sex scene in his pov you can bet its going to be deeply obsessed and unsettling whilst we hear how he experiences that from his pov and how it all makes him feel. like dude high key wants to climb inside petes body and live there permanently there will be no normal internal thoughts whilst theyre having sex haha.

youre so right he does hide way too much!!! and were going to be seeing a lot of that the more we have his POV. ah thank you thank you!! its honestly been so amazing that its resonated with people this much and the experience has been so rewarding!! ah thank you youre too sweet!

omg yeah they should murder korn what an idea. thank you!!! sending you good health and hugs too!!!

oh sure!! well basically its going to revolve around pete finally deciding that he wants to bottom but when he tries to bring that up in his usual halting, beating around the bush kind of way vegas just ends up putting his mouth in it. but like in the most extreme, worst way possible. badly enough that pete makes his own petty, spiteful plan instead and decides to go elsewhere, knowing that it will set vegas off in the worst way but hes angry enough to try and rub that in vegas' face.

except- well it backfires and then the both of them are really into it and they both end up getting exactly what they wanted in the end anyway.

hope thats enough of a spoiler hint!

your english is great!!! and its very clear and easy to understand!! honestly so impressed with people who know more than one language and who talk to people in that other language!! like ur brain???? its so powerful!!!

hope you have a nice night!!

[ailendolin]

Hello! I love your ficlets!

I would like to request DI Bones/Mike Peabody, and No. 8 Comfort - thank you!! :)

Thank you for the prompt, anon! As always, I will use the name Milton for DI Bones as I have done in my other fics. I hope you enjoy your ficlet!

List of prompts is here. Filled prompts are here, here, here and here on AO3.

Prompts are closed.

————

Better

“How are you feeling, love?”

Mike blinked through the fog in his brain until Milton slowly came into focus. He blinked again, just to make sure that Milton was really there. It wouldn’t be the first time his fever-addled mind conjured him up that day.

“Like someone has stuffed my head full of wool and is trying to get rid of it with a sledgehammer,” he croaked out once he was convinced this wasn’t all in his head.

Milton’s face softened in sympathy. He sat down on the edge of the bed and brushed back Mike’s hair from his forehead with a blessedly cool hand to feel his temperature. “At least you’re not burning up anymore.”

The naked relief in his voice that made Mike wonder, somewhere in the back of his exhausted mind, how sick he’d actually been.

“Doc gave me the good stuff,” he said and attempted a grin despite every single muscle in his body aching as if he’d run a marathon. Or maybe two. It was worth it, though, because the small furrow between Milton’s eyebrows disappeared in favour of an incredibly fond if exasperated look before Milton leaned close and pressed a lingering kiss against his temple. There was a desperate note to it, something frantic and worried buried under layers of love and devotion that made Mike’s heart hurt. They really needed to stop doing this – getting hurt and sick; scaring each other. Too many sleepless nights had been spent holding bedside vigils in the few years they’d known each other, too many days consumed by worry and fear. Mike had been in Milton’s shoes more times than he could count and, knowing exactly how he relieved he felt right now to see him awake and smiling and talking again, wished he knew how to stop putting Milton through it.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured hoarsely when Milton pulled away. He reached for his hand and entwined their fingers. “You must have been worried sick.”

The laugh Milton breathed out sounded brittle and tired.

“Still am, to be honest,” he admitted. “You’re not well yet, love.”

There’s no reason to deny that – Mike could already feel the exhaustion pulling at him again, beckoning him to drift off into unconsciousness once more. He couldn’t give in to its alluring call, though, not yet; not when Milton looked like he was barely holding it together.

So, as best as he could with limbs that felt as heavy as lead, he tugged at Milton’s hand until Milton got the hint and crawled into bed next to him.

“It’s the middle of the day,” Milton murmured in protest before he burrowed under the blankets anyway. Mike wrapped an arm around him and pulled him close. A moment later, Milton let out a long, trembling sigh and relaxed against him.

“Better?” Mike asked softly.

He felt Milton nod. “Yeah.”

“Good.”

It was a struggle for him to hold onto consciousness at this point. The rhythmic pattern of Milton’s familiar breathing made it only too easy for him to close his eyes and let his mind drift. He was about to let go of his last hold on consciousness when he felt Milton’s arms tighten around him.

“Please don’t ever scare me like that again,” Milton whispered against his chest.

Oh Mil, Mike thought before sleep finally pulled him under.

He wasn’t awake when the first tears fell, when Milton bit his lip to keep quiet so as not to wake him or when the storm passed and Milton finally gave into his own exhaustion. He was in Milton’s arms, though, alive and breathing and on the mend. In that moment, that was enough.