#lmk if anything needs tweaked at all

[rasafcrged]

@lncarnon / nekros sent a meme.

“They torture me, but still they fear me. Do you fear me?“

He was a fascinating construct. He seemed to be something akin to herself - a sentient ... mechanoid, or perhaps a form of adaptation, a melding of bionic and mechanical forms. A blending of species, but yet like nothing that she had ever seen before, and something that she could not readily analyze or identify. And that made him ... fascinating to her. She had no way of knowing what he could ascertain of her own making, what abilities and systems of analyses that he had access to and that made him ... potentially dangerous. But she had long since learned that her curiosity would outweigh a chance of harm in nearly all scenarios.

"Fear?" An easy smile graces the edges of her lips as she watches him, hands clasped loosely together at the small of her back, a light bounce of weight from heel, to toe, and back again as she settled. "No. I am not one that is given easily to fear, or hatred, or the violence that seems to go hand in hand." That brings a slight furrow of her brow, a pensive crease. "I do not desire to see you hurt, or constrained. I am sorry that they have resorted to such tactics. Is there anything that I can offer? Do you require food, or water, or nourishment of some kind?" She did not have the authority to free him, not in the innocuous position that she had obtained with those that currently held him, but she could try and make his time here more comfortable.

[silvasuns]

starter for: @viktor-liddell where: viktor's workspace when: 15:22

Guilherme's knows there's more to his role than only to speak when spoken to. His particular position demands a proactive bearing that doesn't play well with the specific streak of reluctance he feels towards approaching Viktor, however. Shirking his responsibilities doesn't sit well with him either, though — particularly because he knows those who do, once caught, are generally not easily forgiven.

Mistrust is the last thing he wants ( needs, even ). So here he stands, on the other side of the monarch's desk with his tablet in hand — proof to back up the likely unwelcome news he's about to share. ❛  Thank you for seeing me. I'm afraid I come bearing ... troublesome news. It's your brother, Maksim.  ❜

[weediee]

New Orleans Beignets

HUMAN ALASTOR X FEM WIFE!READER (She/Her pronouns)

Summary: Y/N is one of the leading bakery owners in the entirety of New Orleans! People travel minutes, hours to try the sweet treats that reside within her bakery. But there's one special radio host who's obsessed with none other than her famous New Orleans Beignets.

E/N: This is based off of Princess Tiana's Beignets. It was too perfect not to make into an Alastor story so why not + she's one of my favourite princesses.

This story isn't proofread so it's not perfect. Also I haven't written for a while so I might be a little rusty, but I hope you all enjoy it anyways! x

No trigger warnings besides some light kisses! (Lmk if I forgot any.)

Rainy afternoons were never the brightest time for those in New Orleans.

The freezing cold, the shivering of finger tips, the multiple layers worn in hopes of being able to keep at least a little bit warm. It was always certainly a surprise when people realized that instead of the usual sunlight and humidity, it was going to rain.

So, what do those in New Orleans do during these miserable days? Well there's one of two things. Stay inside, bored half to death, or go find a nice place to have a cozy meal and settle down for the day. And what better place to go rather than Y/N's bakery?

That's the thought that Alastor thought of every day when these storms swept through New Orleans (and every usual day too.)

No rain, hail, nor shine could prevent him from leaving the studio on his lunch break to go check on his dearest wife who was slaving away in her bakery, and in the process of greeting her, he could never resist stealing one of her heavenly Beignets.

"Hello, anyone home?" Alastor spoke loudly, his radio voice on show as he entered the door. He watched as Y/N perked up from behind the counter after hearing the short chime of the door opening. "Hello, stranger." She laughed softly, standing up straight to brush off her dusty apron. It was adorned with pastry batter and powdered sugar from all the sweets made throughout the day, if anything it was just a sign of how hard she worked.

"Yes, I did prepare your Beignets darling." She admitted without a question needed, walking over to her husband to pass over a small brown paper bag, inside two hot Beignets showered perfectly with powdered sugar. They smelled divine, it was like heaven itself had been baked into two small pastries.

"Just how you like it." She nodded slightly, moving forward to kiss her husband's cheek nonchalantly.

"Thank you my dear, without you I fear I would starve!" Alastor laughed, looking at his wife with such a thankful and loving look plastered across his face. "You truly are such a darling when it comes to spoiling me."

"Only for New Orleans finest radio host." She said proudly, crossing her arms over her chest.

Alastor leaned forward, kissing her forehead softly for a moment before pulling away, smiling down at his gorgeous girl. "And only for New Orleans finest Beignet maker."

E/N: I'm tweaking I hate this. Am I still going to post it? Yes.

PLEASE don't be hesitant to send me some Alastor ideas or head cannons you'd like me to write. I really don't enjoy writing without a plot like this story, you can see the laziness within my work.

All dandy though, have a wonderful evening everyone!

- Weedie 🥀

[aubins]

Bernadetta flinches, and it occurs to Yuri only then that they had not put up their mask of pleasantries and charms— that, now, it is far too late to. They ought to have made some quip about how people might've killed to sit where she does now, laughed it off and bid her rest before the tension ever had the chance to grow so thick in the air.

Too late, they think again, alarmed. Straighten up as though there are words to fumble for that might fix the way she trembles and drops her gaze, as though they do not simply linger there a beat, then slump. Legs draw up to their chest, arms curled around them as they rest their chin atop where their knees fold.

It's the cold that has them dropping their guard, they tell themself. Except Yuri knows it's just Bernadetta— Bernadetta who forgave the knife at her throat and so earnestly forgives everything afterward. Bernadetta who makes them want to be honest, because honesty is the only thing they can give her now, the only thing they can offer of any value.

Because maybe it's not really fine, but that's not her fault in the slightest. Who can Yuri even blame for it but themself?

“I'm not...” they begin, stubborn, yet still falter quick when the candy lands in their direction. They lift it slowly, hesitantly with a hand, then set it back down between them. “...Okay,” comes their exhale of agreement. “But you have to wake me, yeah? You need to rest too.”

And so their head tilts, turned in the direction opposite her, because despite how they've acquiesced, Yuri doubts they will find much sleep at all. They cannot bear to look at her all the while.

Because she flinched, and it is burned into their memory now: how their words had cut deeper than their knife ever had.

(They are, really, the worst kind of bastard. The most awful kind of ‘friend.’)

＊ woven back from violence .

anni '24 | heavy armor +1　 ▪ ▪ ▪ 　yuri & bernadetta

[elliereject]

ifhy .2

* in which ellie’s obsession relationship with you begins to sour as your romance with your new boyfriend seems to flourish. it seems she’ll stop at nothing to ensure your happiness, (which you’ll find with her, obviously) even if it means hurting you in the process.

* lowkey obsessive ellie, ellie beats someone up, angst + comfort (next chapter(s), infidelity, unrequited feelings yet also mutual pining (just read it like, idk idk I forgot how to do these),lmk if I missed anything!

* HELLLLLOOOO!? oh my god 100 likes on part 1 and over 100 followers??? ty? so much?? <3 the next parts almost done so I gotta tweak some things but I hope you guys enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it! I meant to post this like 2 days ago but I fell asleep editing…

* mdni

* wc ~ smth like 1.8k

pt .1 here ★ pt .3 coming soon

“Are you seriously wearing that?” You sighed, flopping back on Ellie’s twin bed.

“What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?” Ellie asked, eyeing her worn skinny jeans and a black oversized hoodie.

“First, there’s a hole in the side of your hood. Second, you wore that 3 times this week already.”

“No, I didn’t. These are different jeans!”

You groaned, “Ellie it’s a party, live a little.”

She let out a small laugh, “Says you, you were literally on the verge of throwing up like 5 minutes ago. Did whatshisname text you?”

She crossed her fingers in hope that he hadn’t.

You rolled your eyes, “You know his name, and he said he got there about 20 minutes ago and’ll meet me near the living room.”

“Cool, cool.” She said stiffly. “We should probably get going then.”

You jumped up from the bed, practically skipping over to the door. “Finally, you take a surprisingly long time to get ready.”

She didn’t. She was just trying to drag out the amount of time she had before she saw you clinging to your boyfriend and laughing at his stupid jokes.

She was still trying to find a way to show you that he was a dick and she was what you needed but all the ideas she had ended up with him dead and while she was considering it, you probably would have a hard time forgiving her.

The two of you trekked down to the elevator and while your back was turned she couldn’t help but imagine what it would feel like to slip her hand into yours. How would you react? Would you recoil? Or would you squeeze her palm? Ellie was never really a touchy person yet she made some exceptions when it came to you, however nothing as intimate as hand holding.

And something screamed at her, begging her to try. Her fingers itched by her leg and before she knew it she was stretching out her arm.

Close…so close she could feel the warmth radiating off you.

In a moment you whipped around and she didn’t have enough time to retract her hand.

“What are you doing?” You asked, tilting your head in a way that made her heart ache.

“You just had a uh– a piece of lint.” She lied easily as she picked nothing off your sleeve.

“Oh, thanks! Easier to get rid of then a hole, huh?” You let out a giggle and stuck your finger through said hole, she forced a laugh.

The rest of the ride down Ellie urged herself not to have any more daring thoughts.

Once down, you cracked jokes about your professor and weirdos in your classes, and Ellie tried her best to laugh along, all the way to the frat where the party was being held. Once you made it, you shoved past the sweaty bodies in the living room to look for your boyfriend whilst Ellie shrunk into the kitchen to confide chat with Jesse who was busy chugging a twisted lemonade.

“Jesse. I want you to thank God you aren’t a lesbian.” Ellie groaned, pulling the drink from his lips and taking a swig herself.

“Shit. What happened now?” He sighed, reaching past Ellie to grab another. Ellie’s been moping about you to Jesse for a while now, although he doesn’t really know it’s you because she doesn’t wanna fuck up the way her friends view your guys’ relationship.

“I was walking behind her earlier before we got into the elevat— classroom. And I was like 5 seconds away from grabbing her hand.”

“And why’s that a bad thing? I thought you liked her.” He asked in between sips.

“Because she has a fucking boyfriend! And that would’ve been so embarrassing I think I would’ve bit off my tongue and killed my self right there.”

Jesse let out a low whistle and Ellie crossed her arms. “Don’t you have any advice for me, or are you just gonna stand there?”

The man shrugged, “You’re not gonna like what I have to tell you. Have you tried talking to Joel about any of this?”

Ellie shook her head with a sigh, “He’s busy with work as is, I don’t wanna bother him with this shit when I barely even get to talk to him.”

“Well then, you should prob—hey! ★ what’s up?”

Their conversation was cut short as you walked into the crowded kitchen. With no luck in the living room, you decided to retreat there to talk with your friends while periodically checking your phone for any missed calls or texts.

Ellie noticed the worried look on your face. “Hey, hey. He’ll call. And if he doesn’t he’s a fucking idiot.”

She urged you to try and live in the moment and reassured you again that’d he’d call soon, even though she hoped and prayed he didn’t.

You gave her a small smile and muttered “I guess.” Before taking the red solo cup she offered you and downing it. Eventually, Dina joined your little trio and you temporarily forgot all about him since you were having so much fun chatting with your friends.

Ellie, still smiling, excused herself to the washroom after announcing she had to piss and thank god she did because the scene she stumbled upon literally made her laugh with joy. She had been looking for a reason to beat the fuck out of your boyfriend and did she find it.

After mistaking one of the bedrooms for the washroom—since every fucking door in that house looked the same—her eyes immediately landed on the familiar lanky figure who was shacking up with some tiny brunette bitch.

“No fucking way!” She guffawed, completely amused.

“Please, it’s not—“ Your boyfriend started, pulling his lips from the girl and straightening out his shirt.

“I’ve been looking for a reason to beat your sorry ass! This is just perfect.” She laughed manically as she stomped into the room, slamming the door behind her and cracking her knuckles.

The girl he was previously with was shaken to her core, and practically sprinted out of there. Before he could get out another word, Ellie’s fist was already crushing his face.

“You dick, God I knew you were an asshole but this is just—wow! Cheating on her when she is most definitely the best you could ever do?” Another punch and he was on the ground.

Blood was leaking from his nose and his lip was split. Suddenly she was on top of him, her fists flying. His glasses were broken and tears ran down his face pathetically.

She’d bottled up her emotions for so long; her love for you, her jealousy towards him, her anger at the entire situation, that it all muddled together and bursted the bottle, sending shards everywhere.

Ellie has always been an innately intense person, but this, pummelling something that deserved it, someone that she’d been fantasizing about beating the shit out of ever since she’d met them. It felt good.

“Pl-please stop.” He begged, and she halted her fists, but only for a moment.

She scoffed. “Stop? Stop. Man, I should rip your tongue out. Maybe that’ll finally shut you up.”

His eyes widened as he scanned her eyes for any sign of sympathy, of mercy, but all he found was icy green.

“You’re fucking crazy!” He shouted, trying and failing to shimmy her off him.

She shrugged, “Maybe.”

She was about to throw another fist but she heard frantic footsteps speeding toward the room.

“Shit..” She tapped the side of the guy’s face harshly as he was beginning to black out. “Listen, you’re going to get up. Hop out the window and take your ass home, if someone asks what happened say you got jumped. You’re not going to look at ★ again, text her, call, or even breathe near her. Transfer out of her classes and if I even get the idea that you’re thinking of contacting her again, I will find you. And I will rip your tongue out, got it?”

He nodded wildly and she finally got off of him. She watched as he scurried toward the window and hopped out, it was only a few feet, he’d live.

Ellie wiped her stained hands on the inside of her sweater and opened the door just as the brunette from before was about to, she was standing next to one of the frat guys.

“What’s going on?” Ellie said easily, putting a charming smile on her face and hiding her hands in her pocket.

“Where is he?” The brunette asked worriedly.

“Who? It’s just me in here.” Ellie said looking around confused.

The frat boy looked behind Ellie and them at the girl before sighing and turning back around, “Don’t bother me again. Just enjoy the party.”

“B-but—“ She immediately shut up when Ellie shot her a malicious glare.

She strolled out of the room and back toward the main floor to see you sulking on the couch, checking your phone.

“What happened?” She asked, sliding next to you and resting her arm behind you on the cushions.

“He still hasn’t answered.” You pouted.

And for the first time in months she shot you a genuine smile, despite the fact you were talking about him. “I wouldn’t worry about it, don’t think you’ll hear from him anytime soon.”

You smiled at her and she shot you a weird look, “What?” she asked.

“Nothing..you just seem a little happier than usual.” You said, leaning into her arm.

“Yeah, I guess I am.”

tagz ଳ (send me a message to be added!)

@bready101

[agaypanic]

They're open yay omg!! Ok I had a cute idea for Rodrick Heffley if you're up for it! :)

Rodrick x Male!Reader where reader sings him 'boyfriend' by Big Time Rush the same way that Rodrick sang 'baby' by Justin Bieber for that one girls birthday (I literally don't remember her name lol but also it doesn't have to be his birthday) but like, it doesn't end as badly as it did for him lmao

Idk if they should be an established relationship between him and reader or if this is like readers confession so ill let you choose what you feel like writing for!

Boyfriend (Rodrick Heffley X Male!Guitarist!Reader)

Masterlist

Request Something!

Summary: While waiting for your friends to show up to band practice, you decide to show Rodrick a new song you’ve been working on.

A/N: this is my first time writing for rodrick so pls lmk how i did! au where reader wrote ‘boyfriend’ instead of btr (with a few tweaks). rodrick and reader are in the talking stage (i dont wanna say situationship but ig that works lol) but their friends dont know about it. the only instrument i know about is the violin so sorry if i get anything wrong. also i think doing singing in stories/fics is kinda weird/awkward but whatever lol

***

You always cherished the few minutes you had alone with Rodrick during band practice. Sure, you liked your other friends. But there was something about being able to watch Rodrick not put on the whole ‘bad boy rocker’ persona that he was used to wearing. Around you, he felt like he could wind down and not think as much.

Although, he didn’t think too much in the first place.

“I think we have a real shot at winning this talent show,” Rodrick said, drumming a beat on your thigh as he watched you tune your guitar. “We just need to practice more.”

“Well, I think we sound fine right now.”

“We don’t need to sound fine; we need to sound great!”

“Chill out, Roddy.” You said gently, putting a hand on his shoulder. “It’s a month away; we have plenty of time.”

“Don’t call me that.” Despite his words, the corner of Rodrick’s lip twitched up at the nickname. You were the only one who called him that. At first, he didn’t like it; it wasn’t a hardcore rocker name. But soon, he found himself getting giddy at the softness of it. “I guess you’re right, though.” 

Rodrick strummed his fingers across the strings of your guitar, laughing when you slapped his hand away.

“Work on anything new lately?” He asked, looking up at you from his hunched-over position. Along with being the guitarist, you were one of the main songwriters in Löded Diper, having many one-on-one writing sessions with Rodrick. That’s how the two of you grew closer, going from childhood friends playing on slides to somewhere between friends and something more, playing songs. Secret handshakes turned to lingering touches, and loud laughs turned to whispered jokes.

You were a bit hesitant to answer. You had been working on some new songs, but they didn’t exactly fit the Löded Diper brand. They were love songs, most, if not all, written with Rodrick in mind. 

“Kind of.” You finally say, picking at a frayed edge of your jeans. Rodrick perked up, always loving your new material.

“Yeah? Show me!”

“It’s not exactly like the stuff we play.” You argue, a bit anxious at the thought of Rodrick hearing what you had been toying with recently. “Besides, it’s not finished.”

Rodrick just shrugged, leaning back in his seat.

“Show me anyway.”

You hated how you could never say no to those eyes. You sighed and finally agreed, fiddling with your guitar while trying to remember the chords.

“No laughing.” You say.

“When do I ever laugh at you, Y/n?”

“All the time.” With that, you started playing. You gave Rodrick a nervous glance before clearing your throat and singing.

“Have you ever had the feeling you’re drawn to someone?

And there isn’t anything they could of said or done?

And everyday I see you on your own

And I can’t believe that you’re alone

But I overheard your friends and this is what they said”

Looking over at Rodrick, you saw him intently listening. Any other time, you’d be prideful of the fact that all his attention was on you. But right now, it made you wanna run. But you stayed planted in your seat and continued with the song.

“That you’re looking for a boyfriend

I see that, gimme time, you know I’m gonna be there

Don’t be scared to come put your trust in me

Can’t you see all I really want to be

Is your boyfriend

Can’t fight that

Knock me down you know I’m coming right back

I don’t care at all what you done before

All I really want is to be your

Boyfriend”

You let the last chord ring out before you set your guitar down and cleared your throat.

“So, yeah…” Rodrick kept staring at you. “That’s… the song.”

Rodrick scooted closer to you, and you lifted your head to face him eye-to-eye.

“Did you write that about me?” He asked, tilting his head to the side. You bit your lip, watching how his hair fell from the movement.

“Depends.” You say, taking a deep breath. “Did you like it?”

Suddenly, Rodrick laughed. It made you stiffen, but you soon relaxed when he put a hand on the back of your neck.

“You’re so corny, dude.” He said before closing the gap between you. 

After the shock washed away, you gripped at his hair and ratty t-shirt, wanting to keep him close. You had come close to kissing Rodrick a few times, mainly while drunk at parties that you shouldn’t have been at or during writing sessions that eventually got interrupted by Rodrick’s younger brother Greg. But those close moments didn’t prepare you for how good the real thing felt.

When you parted, you rested your forehead on Rodrick’s as the two of you caught your breath. You opened your eyes and moved back a bit so you could see him clearly.

“So…” You start, not knowing what to do from here. “Are you looking for a boyfriend?”

“Sure.” Rodrick snorted before kissing you again.

[rasafcrged]

Others may have been annoyed by the sudden interruption -- intrusion, in point of fact, but Elizabeth merely blinked in the direction of the elegantly manicured nails that interrupted her field of vision, rifling through the pages of the text that she had been absorbing, an amused tilt of a brow shifting upwards as her gaze skipped up to study said ... intrusive force.

She considered her reply for a moment before offering it. Technically, most of the texts that had been hoarded away in back room password protected libraries like this had not been digitized in any way, which meant the only way she'd gain access to their knowledge was hands on, and she was an avid hoarder of knowledge of all makes and models... but everything that she was reading was purely for the sake of her own interests, so ---? "Technically, I suppose, you would say all three, but between you, me and the walls, I'd have to confess ... mostly pleasure."

Words and illustrations twist, a brief maelstrom, jumbled by an elegant touch. French-tips drag along the page that the other was just poring over, panted lips mouthing along without a sound. Once her silent recitation is at an end, she withdraws her hand, without making the first move to right her rude approach.

Faded blue eyes almost dare them to say something as she coolly regards the only other company they have in the archive. But she raises her chin, gold curls dragging back over her shoulders.

"Interesting selection," Susan notes dryly. "Is this academia, pleasure, or novelty?" // open. SUSAN HOWARD.

[grossnyucky]

Samsonite Headcanons

gonna put everything undercut, taking this from my comments on someone else's post so sorry if this is formatted weird i've never done anything like this </333

please feel free to tell me yalls headcanons too tbh

I like to think he's selective mute

his smile is his resting face which can make him hard to read initially

with that being said I think if he cares about you in our way traditionally, I think he takes the time to add nonverbal signals for his emotions

his ears twitch/move to show emotion, like a cat's (I think it would be easy for people to get confused what it means, which would end up with tales mixing which signals mean what for people who encounter him)

also giving him a small tail just cause, tails are fun

his favorite on brand is mtn dew :]

Samsonite likely inspired music in that universe, which would give more reasoning to drums/bass considering he likes a beat

that being said, I think he'd enjoy things like electro swing and would actively switch his dance style (enjoy the swing dancing mental image)

if y'all listen to music together that doesn't have much bass/beat I think it's slowly turn into pony by habit

he's a horse and I'm basing it off of the fact the song is Pony, do with that as you will

though all of his outfits have the overall and hat combo, I do think he also has the sagging pants and open shirt outfit on very rare occasions too (begging someone to draw this ngl)

I also want more people to draw his small fucked up form that appears during the exorcism, and whenever he tweaks out

on that note, he needs a host every once in a while. Taking liberties there I like to imagine it like Venom if he's weak enough/if a person is powerful enough

he calls you a doodoohead etc if you don't listen while he's in the backseat

this does probably mean being on a people's soul/on brand soda diet, so rip ur wallet probably

if you take his hat count your nanoseconds

Samsonite is playful/a tease, he likes to torment before taking people as a host or to his domain I feel like it's a given

if we go with the headcanon that he's a pig, he snorts for laughter

his domain reaches not only closets, drawers and bed undersides, but I also like to think this means any larger pieces of room furniture

he 100% uses this to jumpscare you or pulling you off the bed just cause

I think this would also allow him to travel via luggage

he can become pocket sized, let him have an iPod to listen to fr

he probably disappears for months at a time before coming back regularly, he's gotta feed

I think he'd adore scratches/pets

on that note watch out for biting or potentially ur soul being eaten (it's worth it though)

on the fence about how I see this, but I think touch is a one way street more often than not

but that could also be why he likes scratches and pets whenever he allows them

self-inflicted touch starved LMAO

if you think of him romantically, hear me out on doomed relationship cause technically he is one of the "great old ones"

denies each trip without taking you to the domain as stalling because he is attached but his survival needs mean more

using you as a host because in a way its a compromise, the best that both of your limits can offer anyway Anyway, I'm insane and if yall want something specific lmk :]

[anonymouse5]

tips for writers block bc I need them:

~ go back and re-read what you’ve written

you might find spots that are keeping you stuck/scenes you need to scrap

~ work on a different wip/start a new wip

you might just need a break from this one & the other might give you inspo, esp if it’s similar genre/characters/etc.

these are motivation boosters/ways to get inspiration:

~ make a pinterest board or playlist (if you already have one, add to it)

~ daydream about scenes/characters

~ read something in the same form as what you’re writing, try to analyze why certain scenes work or certain characters draw you in

more random tips:

~ brainstorm random scenes that could happen in your story

if you can’t use it for this one, save it for something else!

then you can look back to these scraps later and see if you want to include them when you have writers block later

~ write a different scene

if you haven’t gotten to the scene you’re most excited to write, write that one.

if your brain is weird like mine and won’t let you write out of order, write it in a separate document/notebook depending on whether you type or write out your stories.

if you have a specific brainstorming notebook, write the scene in that. find what works for you!

~ try a sprint

try to just free write for 1 min, 5 min, 15 min. whatever you feel that you can. even 30 seconds. this might help you get into the flow. if it doesn’t, at least you wrote something. progress is good!

you can try different writing websites that make writing a game or force you to write or it will delete your work (this stresses me out so I don’t do this)

~ reread a different work of yours

try to reread something you’re proud of. this could be a confidence boost!

~ use a prompt

this can be a picture, a painting, a song, something you read (quote, poem, story, etc) or any other form of art. it can literally be anything. prompts will get you started.

~ try to remove doubts/become calm

sometimes writing becomes hard because we’re not fully confident in our writing. it happens. just remind yourself that it takes time to get good and even great writers get imposter syndrome, writers block, etc.

chill and see where your writing journey takes you. this applies to all aspects of life btw.

~ write about your writers block

this might be dumb, but it might be a great relatable poem? again, getting words on the page is good. quantity over quality for now. we can work on the quality once we get into the flow, y’know?

~ go back to square one

if you’re a plotter, go back to plotting. flesh out some of those vague ideas. add to your character sheets. think about the mood you want to create. tweak your mood board. etc. idk i only plot sometimes.

okay! happy writing. lmk if you want more tips <3

[14dyh]

hii can i request prompt 4? where reader sacrifices herself for hange.

Our Side | H.Z.

Pairing: Hange Zoë x female reader Summary: You're willing to endure anything for Hange, even death. Content warning: heavy angst, betrayal, loss, gunshots, torture, mentions of suicide, blood (lmk if there's anything more) Word count: 2.2k A/N: i feel like all hange lovers daydreamed about dying for hange at some point and i'm no exception

A sliver of light bled through from the small lone window of that room. Rows of cells lined after the other as you walked in, bashing in the awful memories squeezing inside your head, demanding to be remembered.  A reminder that there will be no end to the suffering thrust in your hands from that day Marley sent you to Paradis. Nothing would be expected from a soldier tweaked out to be a weapon and sent to Eldia but fruitful results about the island's ruination. You were ordered to retrieve information, kill, and betray. It made you lose your mind, and cling to the last strings of humanity you tried to keep intact. After grueling years, you found enough courage to betray Marley to live a life you were proud of despite all the blood that had to be spilled.

You could remember this cell vividly. You were captured by several soldiers, harshly shoved inside, and threatened to be tortured for being a filthy Marleyan outsider invading Eldia. It went on until the Commander stepped in to admonish the soldiers' behavior, and rescued you from their heinous treatment. That day, you didn't need to be tortured for information as Hange managed to pull you towards the light of things with kindness and tolerance. It was the first time you found someone not fueled by hatred but by a desire to understand. Your admiration turned to loyalty, and eventually, to love that was reciprocated twofold. The testament of your devotion remains on your ring finger to this day. But this time, you had to remove it and lock it away in a small box as your feet led you to the cell where prisoners are kept— a place where you were once detained.

You were ordered to keep watch of the Eldian prisoners against the Rumbling under Yelena's orders. Only one prisoner sat on that cell but you knew that this would become the most difficult moment of your life.

“Hange,” you said, forcing a commanding tone but it came out like a whisper.

Hange’s head turned from hearing your familiar voice and wasted no time reaching for you. The only restraint keeping them far was the jail bars dividing you. They have a frantic, broken look in their eyes as they tell you everything about the cruelty and massacre performed by the Yeagerists to make the Rumbling successful. Their hands clung to the bars, desperate to reach your heart— the heart they grew to love and loved them in return. The irony from where you both stood became stark as they stood inside the cell where they once rescued you.

“Come with me, you don't have to do this anymore. We can get out of here together,” Hange pleaded one last time, eager to get her back to their side, awaken the person they loved and married all those years ago. It wasn't like you to betray them and give up the life they worked for over this war.

“Hange...” You struggled to retain the hard look in your eyes as words bundled up in your throat, begging to come out as uncontrollable sobs but—

“...you're a war criminal. I will deny anything that goes against Marley.”

After leaving those words, the distraught in Hange's eyes shattered your insides, pain wasn't plucking at your heartstrings anymore. It was piercing hundreds and thousands of the sharpest nails to where it would hurt the most and it physically weakened you despite years of being a soldier. You wanted to give up this act, collapse on your knees, and cry in your lover's arms. The only person you ever loved, the reason why you didn't kill yourself last night, and your only home.

You hurt Hange. They found it absurd and strange that they just stared at you in hopelessness and misery.

You planned this for a long time since you found out about Yelena's plan. And you're willing to sacrifice anything for Hange. You never slept a wink on those nights that you manipulated them into thinking that you supported Marley. Every night you wanted to sob and give up this cursed Eldian life. But that was too selfish. You're not planning to die and leave Hange in this miserable place.

They knelt on the ground, their head down as tears dripped from their face.

“Is this what it has always been? I should've acted sooner, shouldn't I?” they spoke in regret, their voice hard against their throat.

“Hange, I...” you can't show them your tearful eyes, the hesitation of what comes after next.  “I loved you. But we have changed. I'm letting you out of here in gratitude for the old times.”

Hange began sobbing, they felt as though the world kept crushing them to death. Irritated by a strong spirit trying to fight. Losing their comrades, the death of Eldia, and now their marriage...

They saw your ringless fingers, snapping the dam of pain welling inside them.

"I can't expect you to thrive off without betrayal, shouldn't I?" It was bitter, almost angry. An anger not directed to you but to your choice. "I can't believe you came crawling back to that country that hurt you."

Their cheeks are red with tears, their heart ripped open by what your love came to be. You could feel the last heartstrings snapping inside you, freezing your heart in a lifetime of anguish. It was true that your life became a series of betrayals and escapes but this time it was different, it wasn't for fear but for love.

You sneaked Hange outside the cell, walking in an awful silence until you reached a spot with no soldiers in sight. But when they faced you to say one last thing, you scurried away as fast as you could. You sprinted towards a dark, empty corner to slump down and cry. Screaming wordlessly to yourself, hitting the wall with your bare fist until it bled.

For a moment, the pistol at your side seemed to be whispering.

-

There was peace before the Rumbling came into discussion as you've always remembered. You cannot pinpoint when exactly things began to drift away but you have always noticed. Hange's intuition was sharp but yours brimmed enough to get you into trouble. You worked under Yelena's orders, the only agreement being set was Hange's survival and safety. In a way, you betrayed everyone.

Yelena has always known that your loyalty falters in a way that only fulfills your desire to protect Hange. She has to take you out. But your spirit was one for luck and survival, escaping her torture with a few bullets and shrapnel slowly slicing away your insides. Rain fell as you stumbled outside, dragging your weak form to the shady foliages with nothing but a pistol in hand. You followed the soldiers Yelena ordered to chase Hange, taking them out one by one from the sidelines. The sun began to sink into the horizon, blurring your vision as you crawled to the hundreds of leaves and twigs littered in the forest. It had been hours before you set Hange free but you had to find them somehow. The plan of the enemy finally pieced itself together in your head, but you have to find Hange to trust this information. Gunshots were heard from afar, two bullets fired, and no screams. You glimpsed Hange's form hidden behind a tree, defending themself from the onslaught.

You stumbled past the forest in desperation, your mind in extreme alert drawing out your pistol. You should have known this would happen. A soundless scream escaped your throat as soldiers from both sides erupted from the bushes. It was one of those moments when one forgets that their soul was attached to their body. Once, it happened to you when Hange accidentally burned their arm on a burning pot. Their scream triggered your insides, making you rushed past everything, knocking everything on your way just to get to them.

This time, your body burned from injury, numb from the bullets destroying your insides as you ran to them. You didn't stop until Hange was in your arms, shoving them towards a path the Marleyan soldiers didn't know. You kept Hange from the line of bullets, shielding them like a bird spreads its wings in protection.

After the gunshots ceased, Hange's hands found their way to your back, supporting your weakened, paling body right in their arms.

Hange brushed the hair out of your face, the strands leaving a soaked blood trail on your face and neck. Their hands clasped the back of your head, whispering almost in prayer for you to hold on and stay, for God's sake. Hange could almost feel your heartbeat getting distant, their resolved thinning to threads as they saw you drift away.

You grasped their hand, wincing as you held them tight enough. Your lips moved weakly, letting them know the information you need to cough out. All the plans of Marley, the Rumbling, all the threats awaiting the Alliance— information you knew Hange would use wisely.

Hange's tears spilled, their mind could not listen when all they could feel was your blood in their hands. How could they be so foolish to doubt your love and allegiance? Why would you let yourself play such a dangerous role just to end up dying in their arms?

"Hange, listen to me," your forehead leaned against theirs. You wanted to place a gentle kiss on their lips if only your mouth wasn't full of blood. "You have to go now, sweetheart. It's not safe here anymore."

Your lip trembled, eyes watering at the sight of Hange's tear-stained face. You forced your eyes close as if shutting down the aching.

"I'm sorry."

You choked out your sorrow, clinging to them as your vision blurred.

"I'm not leaving you here." Hange dismissed your plead to make them go, eager to carry you to safety once again. They clung to the hope that you could be saved, that this was like any other time they were able to save you. They always do, don't they?

Hange attempted to lift you off the cold ground once more but stopped as soon as they saw you winced in pain, putting a hand on their shoulder to stop them. You shook your head weakly, squeezing their hand gently as they set you back down again, holding you in defeat in their arms.

"Y/N, I'm so sorry..." Hange sobbed on your shoulder. An apology for all the time lost, for doubting your love, for not being able to save you this time. Hange's mind was nothing but regrets and apologies, wishing to every god to take them back in time. Their chest heaved as they held you but you smiled through bloodied lips, putting a hand over their heart.

"Hange," you began, death's touch running over your lips. "I'm a horrible woman. A traitor and a liar. But please know that I love you..."

I love you so much. 

Your sobs prompted the struggle in your throat, blood, and words halting your speech. People would say that your life would flash before your eyes, but yours played as a gentle memory full of Hange as if your life began with them. Your world, your light.

The rain fell gently against your skin, washing the blood off your cheeks. Strangled sobs erupted from Hange's throat, their pain thick against the air.

"You're not. And even if you were, I'd still love you," Hange muttered, a silent pause came before they said, "I was ready to leave it all behind..."

A smile cracked on your lips at their confession. For a moment, you imagined what would it feel like to run away and leave with them. Probably live in a simple cottage house by the seaside, away from war and chaos.

Your head leaned against their chest as you said, "Stay with me just a little longer..."

Hange kissed your forehead, their warm tears getting washed by the rain. "I'm not going anywhere..."

You could feel yourself slipping away, your mind lost in a neverending haze. Something inside you wanted to scream and beg for another chance. Despite your wishes to accept things as they are, you don't want Hange to be left alone in such an unforgiving world.

"I'm not ready to die yet... so, my love, please live for me..." your mouth moved for the last time, the sorrow within replaced by a small smile as you felt Hange's lips on yours for the last time.

Hange wanted to wail against the rain, beating the loudness of thunder and the intensity of the downpour. There should be pain, anger, and even a desire for revenge but none came. Freezing emptiness was all there was.

Even as night fell, Hange refused to let you go, and your body turned colder than the blowing wind. Their mind only ran with one thought of going after you, of wishing for a life beyond where they could see your smiling face again. But Hange knows you wanted them to live on, to bear you in their heart, and live for the two of you. They wanted to fight this war carrying your resolve, strength, and devotion to make a just, peaceful world for those you loved. 

Cold surrounded them deeper into the night. Hange kept their arms on yours, shivering against the biting cold with no intention to move aside and leave your body alone. At some point, their eyes would dry out and every sound they make would hurt their throat. Hange's head rested against yours as they fell deeper into slumber, dreaming of a collapsing world of boundless cruelty where everyone asking for help has your voice. 

[galaxyhux624]

@rouxelioboo @kl3bt0-man1ac @rott3n-cl0wn @nela-klebxld @fagislav @filthy-purgati0n (if anyone doesn't wanna be tagged, or wants to be tagged in future, lmk)

i really don't like saying things like this bc it feels like it makes me look like i'm fishing for compliments when i'm not, and i also worry that it colors the reader's perception of the story, but i feel like i need to say it here.... i'm really not sure how i feel about this chapter. idk what it is exactly (although i have my theories) but i looked over it for my usual editing pass and i'm just....... not thrilled with it. but there's nothing i can do to fix it aside from scrapping the whole thing and starting over, which i'm obviously not going to do. there are quite a few lines in this chapter that i do really like, so maybe that'll balance it out? idk. probably in the coming hours/days i'll look over it again and tweak things if i want/need to, depending on how the chapter is received as-is and how i feel about it once it's sat up on ao3 for a bit

i didn't want to say this on ao3 bc i don't want to get anyone's hopes up, but we might be coming back to weekly updates after this. chapter 10 is 98% done, and chapters 11 & 12 are both pretty well into themselves and just need to be fleshed out and etc., which i feel like a two-week buffer will be more than enough time for. again this is just a maybe, and please don't think anything of me if it doesn't happen, but yeah, fingers crossed

[cubeshapedlemon]

hii !!!! I think this is where we request! so I have some ideas for norm (ofc)

first!

yk when vault 32 got attacked ?

what if YOU survived,and hid,trying to defend yourself and surviving by stealing in vault 33 (stole a pip boy to access it) food and other stuff,because u think that every vault got attacked (no communications) so u are always undercover for bad guys,

and even if sometimes rations were low nobody ever suspected a thing or saw you,until norm got charged with giving the prisoners food,and one day in the kitchen he caught u stealin,and he was like « i’ve never seen you around » so you’re scared obv but you open up when u realise he wouldn’t hurt a fly,and because lucy and his dad’s gone,he keeps u in his appartement in secret,stealing supplies for you,letting you use the shower,till you’re ready enough to wander in the vault because it’s safeee! (hes def in love with u)

that’s it bye :3

i finally finished this apologies for the wait🫶 i tweaked the plot a bit and this might be more angsty and smutty than originally expected but in my opinion its pretty good so enjoy and ty again for the request<3

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Two Slow Dancers

When the raiders first attacked 32, your life was forever changed. Going to 33 gave some insight, thanks to one sad-eyed Maclean

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Norm Maclean x f!reader

5.1k words

cw and tags: fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, smut, piv, oral sex (f receiving), light biting, hair pulling, hickeys, love confessions, non-sexual intimacy, blink an you'll miss it lewd sexual harassment-esque comments (not by norm), brief description of panic attack, brief hospitalization from said panic attack, cannon typical descriptions of violence, parental death, the quickest slow burn you will ever read, gratuitous use of song lyrics in a narratively appropriate way ( i snuck a lyric in from two slow dancers by mitski in there so brownie points to you if you find it)

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authors note: hey! sorry this took so fucking long! so much stuff was happening plus laziness plus forgetfulness plus life in general so please forgive me! i really enjoyed writing this request and even though i tweaked your original request a bit i hope you still enjoy it! if i missed any misspellings or i missed something in the tags please lmk! anywho if you enjoy this please send me more requests! (info in pinned post) reblogs are greatly appreciated but please don't translate or repost this anywhere without my permission!

I will never forget that day. The sounds of shots ring out, followed by the useless fizz of tranq guns, skulls shattering against the walls with a now all too familiar crack. I lead my life holding onto aspirations and hope, the thought of a husband, children, of reclamation day. How stupid was I truly, to hold out hope for something like that. Gods, I never thought I would have to worry about anything else.

Until that day dawned, I could have fought and died honorably, my mother did, my father did. I never thought I would ever see my father cry. Nothing could have prepared me for the rageful sob that he let out once they got to my mother–the grief that beat through him with gnashing teeth and blood red rage. I could do nothing but follow my father's orders, dragging my mother and hoping somehow, somewhere, we could be safe.

The boiling hot tears in my eyes made it nearly impossible to see. My hands were occupied, trying to stop the bleeding. Nothing was working, every movement and bit of pressure lathering my hands in crimson. I never thought I would know what death looks like; that day I learned several versions of his ugly face. The endless, malice filled stare of my father, the desperate simpering expression of the children. The most memorable of them being the one that covered my mother.

Pity. A pitiful expression, a soft, challenging smile. She wiped my tears, her dying breath a word of comfort to me. “It's ok, you did what you could baby. It's my time, you need to promise me one thing though. Can you do that?” Anything I nod, slipping my fingers between hers. “Save yourself, make me proud.”

So I ran. I hid. I moved quickly when I needed to, stealing whatever I could from them, breaking into whatever room that had what I needed. I started hearing the footsteps less and less. After a day or two they ceased all together. I could wander freely, the click of my boots the only sound.

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The next few days pass in unimportant washes, each day I discover another body, another busted up apartment, another tragedy. I force myself to move on.

Resources are sparse. The raiders took anything that wasn't directly bolted down it seems. Even that didn't entirely stop them. It quickly became clear that I had no communication with the other vaults, the overseer's computer now a busted hunk of scrap.

Seemingly the only piece of tech they didn't destroy was the control panel to the door connecting us and 33. Oh gods, that means-

They've surely invaded them now too. Against my better judgment, I need to see the proof for myself. With shaking hands I press the button, the door slowly groaning open. A dark hall greets me, the deafening silence of my vault giving the air an eerie tinge that infests every corner of the room. Taking a deep breath, I step inside.

At first, I only hear my own steps. The same sound I have heard for weeks on end. Trudging forward, I start to hear more. Muffled speech, walking, the soundtrack of normalcy. It's not long before I see the creators of this sound. They seem to be true vault dwellers, though I have no evidence that they are. Sure they are wearing the suits of 33, but who knows? Maybe the raiders infiltrated them and decided to take over?

Either way I need to stay vigilant. I'll just do a quick scan for supplies then leave. It'll be ok. I can do this. Following the oddly familiar path I make my way to the pantry. Quickly checking the small glass panel in the door, I see that it's empty. Taking my chance I make my way inside, closing the door behind me silently.

I look at the labels for each of the cabinets. There are plenty of rations, much more than 32 ever had. Certainly more than we have now. Poking around a bit more I decide it's probably a good idea to only grab small amounts. I don't need someone finding me out. Distracted, I don't notice the door click open. That is until I hear the loud rumble of a cart. Drawing my tranq gun, I turn and point it at the unfortunate soul who found me.

Surprise befalls his face, hands going up. The man is rather small. Shorter than me with a slight build. Dark hair plastered into an unnaturally perfect styling. “Who are you?” I demand, my voice deepening as I attempt to intimidate him. He gapes pathetically at me for a few seconds, looking back towards the glass panel in the door, seeing no one in the surrounding halls.

“Norm- Norman Maclean.” he manages to get out, his eyes searching over my expression, looking for something.

“Maclean?” I question, why does that name sound so familiar? “As in overseer Maclean?” That seems to give him some relief, he lets out a held breath, arms sagging slightly.

“Yes! Please don't shoot me,” he says, his voice high pitched, as if he expected me to shoot him then and there.

“Fine,” I say, holstering the gun again. He's probably not dangerous.

Seeing that he lowers his arms, taking a step away from me. His eyes scan me more intensely now, gaze falling on the vault-identifying pin on my collar. Clearly not believing what he was seeing, he backs himself into a wall. “You're- from 32?” he asks, voice quivering slightly, though he was clearly trying to cover it up.

“Shhh,” I chastise, walking towards him, a hand smacking over his mouth in the process. “What's it to you?” He attempts to speak something into my hand, which obviously gets muffled. Moving my hand away he speaks again, in a now quieter tone.

“I thought all of you had died, because of the-” he looks to the side, as if looking at the walls would help sugarcoat his statement. “Raiders,” he completes his statement, crossing his arms defensively.

So he does know about them

“No,” a bitter laugh forces itself out, guarding whatever I had left in me. “I wasn't fortunate enough to.” My face is adorned by a tight-lipped grimace. Looking down I feel tears start to well up again. I force them away.

I look back up. The man's face is no longer defensive, it's almost solemn. His arms now at his side, “I-” he goes to speak, tone sympathetic but whatever pity he had prepared dying on his tongue. “Follow me,” is what he decides on. Wait, follow me? What the hell is he talking about? My internal reaction must have played out on my face, he goes to speak again.

“You need to get some rest, you look like you haven't slept in days.” Wow, rude, although true. “You can stay in my apartment for the time being, I need to tell our council that you're here.” Oh, gods no, what if they kick me out? I broke in! I'm not supposed to be here! My worry kicks up again, the energy filling the room.

“It will be ok, they just need to know, so you don't have to hide.” He places what is probably meant to be a comforting hand on my arm, though he removes it swiftly. Deciding to bite the bullet, I follow him.

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The door opens with a thunk, a home identical to mine in 32 stands before me, identical to what was in 32. “This is it.” He leads me inside with a hand hovering at the small of my back. Not touching, but just enough of a beckoning presence that I instinctively go. It's so clean. It's practically sterile compared to what 32 has been reduced to at this point.

“Make yourself at home, I'll be back soon.” With his last word, he promptly excuses himself. The home is eerily empty, like something is missing. Typical aspects of a lived-in home are present, dirty dishes, a half finished board game on the living room floor. Something distinct is off about it still.

Though, that is not something that is particularly important right now. Following his instructions, I make myself at home. It's been an unfortunate amount of time that I have been forced to go without the typical luxuries that the vaults provide. The luxuries I will not go without for any longer.

A shower being the first thing on that list. Unfortunately I don't have anything different to change into after, my once perfect blue suit now tinted with memories and rusty red stains. But, it will have to do.

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About half an hour later, I hear the distinct thunk of the door opening once more. Stepping out of the bathroom I see him waiting for me, what looks to be some folded regulation pj's and a fresh suit in his hands. “They uh, said you could stay with me for now,” he begins, tone nervous, as if I would turn him down in some way. “I grabbed you some clean clothes. I just took a guess for your size.” Letting out a sigh of relief, I walk forward grabbing the carefully stacked clothes from his arms. Our hands brushing briefly as he hands them over.

“Thank you, really.” My tone is much lighter than earlier today, though still firm, hoping that he would understand the honesty in my statement through it. If he believes me he doesn't show it, his eye contact breaking as he gives me a cordial nod. I return it, walking back into the bathroom to change. The smooth cotton of the t-shirt and the slightly loose sleep shorts give a simple level of comfort. He seems to have guessed correctly, almost impossibly so, when it comes to sizing. The basic outfit somehow looking vaguely flattering on my figure.

Stepping out of the bathroom once again I see that he has busied himself in the kitchen, something popping and sizzling in the pan in front of him. He acknowledges me with a slight turn of his head before going back to his task. Walking around a bit more, I find a collection of holotapes. Every genre you could think of, labeled and organized alphabetically.

Choosing a random one I click it into place on the player. With a press of the button a familiar tune fills the air.

…Everybody loves somebody sometime…

“So,” he says, voice raising over the soft playing of the music. “They want to meet you, the council,” he informs, tone conversational yet careful.

“Oh?” I question, walking over to him.

“Yeah, they uh- want to help you acclimate to the new environment and all.” The stove clicks off, turning around he brandishes two plates with a simple meal, handing one to me before walking over to the table.

“I-” he pauses, rethinking whatever he was about to say. “I think they might, make you talk to them. See them at least,” he says, tone careful. Pushing the food around his plate a bit, he takes a small bite. Them.

“You captured them? The raiders?” There is a bite to my words, accusatory and harsh. “You kept them alive? After all they have done?”

“Unfortunately.” His tone has a similar bitterness. At least he understands where I'm coming from. Walking to the table, I sit across from him, taking a few bites from my meal. Each of our frustrations and anger sizzling out slowly in favor of a comfortable silence. Every once and a while he would attempt to make polite conversation. I of course return it, continuing the conversation when I can. He really is quite nice, funny too. Really is a shame I had to meet him under such harsh circumstances.

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After the meal I offer to clean up out of politeness, he gives a grateful smile when he accepts. The picture was almost domestic, the scent of the sweetpea dish soap and the sound of some old Cooper Howard film in the background. This picture soon became part of a routine. Many would probably question how quickly Norm and I got along, though I don't. After what we have both gone through recently, normalcy is what we crave, and this is about as close as we could get to it.

Days pass, weeks along with them. The comfortable relationship we have formed only continues to get better. The council calls me in every once and a while, trying to figure out what to do with me. Placing me in a job for a while, moving me to another. While my number of attempted jobs aren't quite as impressive as Norm's they're still worth noting. He makes sure to mention this when I start a new one, adding a tally to the board he made on a whim one day.

Eventually they do make me see them. They assured me it would be ok, that I was safe, that nothing could hurt me. They know nothing about hurt. About that pain. Norm, of course, insisted on coming with me. Neither of us knew how much I would need that support.

The walk to the cell was silent. A deafening silence. Far away from the comfortable, peaceful, loving silence I had grown accustomed to with Norm. Getting closer the sounds of fists against metal walls and reinforced glass make themselves known. Peering in, I see them. Not many of them recognize me, nor do I recognize them. Except one.

I will never forget the expression on his face. The pure giddy delight at seeing me again, knowing what he had done. The beady eyes staring me down now, the very same ones that rolled back in almost orgasmic pleasure as he slashed down everyone I had ever known. His face still splattered with specks of the now crusted over blood of my mother. A scar on his neck now healing over, gifted to him by my father.

He walks slowly over to the window, holding eye contact with me as a sneer covers his face. Licking his rotted teeth he looks me up and down leisurely. Assessing me like I'm a piece of meat. I feel Norm tense beside me, his jaw clenching in anger. The raider looks to him and laughs, a loud, hacking laugh. “Come to visit me? Well ain't that just sweet. Your little lapdog there looks like he's ‘bout to burst a blood vessel.”

Truly he did, but he continued to hold his tongue. The piece of shit in the cell just turned his attention back to me anyway. “You know you look just like your mama? Pretty thing she was, your daddy didn't let me take a bite outta’ her but he's not here to keep you safe now is he?” That strikes a nerve, as hard as I might try to suppress it, I can't stop it. My eye twitches as I attempt to force back an onslaught of tears.

Noticing this, Norm places a comforting hand on my back, “We're done here.” His tone is firm, about as close to threatening as he can get. With a small push he leads me back down the hall. Though of course that fucker had to have the last word, lewd comments and insinuations of violence following us. As soon as they dissipated everything came crashing down. My legs crumble beneath me, heart thumping in my chest like I had just run a marathon. My diaphragm crushes my chest from the inside, constricting my breathing further. I hear blood rush to my ears, vision spotting. The last thing I see is Norm, his panicked expression as he holds the back of my head. It all goes black.

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“Please wake up please.” My eyes slowly flutter open, the familiar voice catching my attention. My back is stiff, the bed beneath me having only a thin mat-like excuse for a mattress. Bright fluorescents blind me, forcing me to turn my head to the side. Then I see him, sitting in a regulation chair, half bent over. Perfectly quaffed hair now rumpled, natural waves making their presence known. A few lone tear tracks are left on his face. His eyes are slightly bloodshot, ever-present bags under them deeper than usual.

“You look awful,” I say, voice still laced with a cotton-mouthed raspiness. That catches his attention, Looking up to meet my eyes, he lets out a breathy laugh. Pulling his chair closer to the bed he clasps his hand in mine, using the other to push his mess of hair off of his face.

“I feel it, good to know I'm giving off the right image.” A small smile works its way onto my face. He mirrors it, squeezing my hand. As much as I enjoyed the peaceful joy of the moment, there is a nagging question hanging in the air.

“What happened?” While my question did dampen the mood, he nods, giving me my answer.

“They said you probably had a panic attack, you passed out and I brought you here.” The memories of what transpired flood back, if not for the comforting weight of his hand in mine, I would have been swallowed whole by them. “They cleared you to leave, if you want to go home.”

Home. I want nothing more.

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The weeks following my hospital stay, Norm became more doteing than ever. I was not allowed to cook a single meal, make a pot of coffee, or clean up around the house. Really anything he could reasonably convince me of. Not that I was complaining. Something about the recent events must have struck him in some way. While he was always open about his past and the unfortunate things that had happened since the raiders, he truly started to bare his heart to me.

It just makes me wish I had known him longer. It would be a hundred times easier if we were young again. Starting fresh. Though, I could not be happier with how we have gotten to grow together. It's funny how long it took for us to realize our affections for each other. To identify the source of the pang in my heart when he smiled, the swell in his when I laughed.

This all culminated one night. Dinner had been cooked, eaten, and cleaned up. The credits of A Man and His Dog scrolling on the Tv. With a small sigh I get off the couch, turning off the Tv, and waltzing over to the holotape player, putting on one of my favorites.

… I don't want to set the world on fire…

Humming along with the music I walk over to Norm, grabbing at his hands and attempting to haul him up from the couch. “Come on dance with me,” I coo, putting on my best guilt-tripping doe eyes. With a huff, and a sarcastic eye roll he gets up, allowing me to drag him to the open space near the player. “You know,” I begin, grabbing his hand, “to dance you actually have to move.”

“Do I really?” he jokes back, his free hand going to the small of my back.

“Mm-hmm,” I hum, my other hand going to the back of his neck, cradling it as we begin to sway to the music.

… In my heart I have but one desire…

Sighing, I lean closer into him. A familiar ache finding itself in my chest. The lyrics of the song spell it out perfectly to an almost cliché level. Mirroring my own actions, he pulls me farther into him, delicately leaning his head across my shoulder. “Thank you,” I say, my tone is soft, almost unsure.

“For what?”

… I just want to be the one you love…

“For everything, for giving me a place that feels like home.” He makes a small sound of acknowledgement, squeezing me just a little tighter. “For being a person that feels like home,” I tack on, leaning my head against his.

“You don't have to thank me,” he says, almost absentmindedly. “I don't know what I would do without you at this point,” he says, a half laugh poorly covering the honesty in his statement.

And with your admission that you feel the same…

Letting out a hum of agreement, I throw caution to the wind. Placing a gentle kiss to his temple, I allow myself more. More of him, more of what I need. Raising his head from my shoulder in surprise he looks up to me, desire swirling in his eyes. “Please,” he whines, with a laugh I bring my lips to his, pausing just before they meet.

“Don't have to ask me twice,” I joke, finally locking our lips together.

… I don't want to set the world on fire, honey. I love you too much…

He returns my kiss straight away, whining something unintelligible into it. The saccharin sweet taste of Nuka Cola invades my senses. Deepening the kiss I run my tongue along the seam of his lips, asking for permission. Allowing me in, the kiss becomes mostly tongue and teeth. Removing my hand from his I place it on his hip, squeezing I begin to lead him back. My subconscious bringing us down the path to his bedroom.

… Darlin’ I have only one desire. And that one desire is you…

As soon as we are over the threshold of the doorway, both of us are in a rush to feel eachother skin to skin. Boots and socks toed off before either of us could get a breath in. He quickly unzips my suit, forcing the material down and off of me. My hands soon do the same. With a lonesome whine he breaks our kiss, running his hand across my waist he looks up at me with an expression of pure need. “Gods, you are gorgeous,” he professed, placing a languid trail of kisses along my neck and collarbone.

Taking hold of me, he turns us, pushing me back onto the bed. After a moment, in which he looks to be mostly admiring, he joins me on the bed. Scooting back, I lay against the pillows positioned at his headboard. Grabbing his wrist, I pull him up to meet me. One of my hands goes to the back of his neck, pulling his lips to mine once again.

The kiss is slow, passion dripping from the soft pillows of his lips. His hands work their way behind my back, undoing the clasps of my bra. Bringing his hands to my front again, he guides the straps off my arms, returning them to their original position after. Tossing the bra away, his hands busy themselves. Palms run across my stomach, moving up my torso to cup my breasts.

Squeezing softly, a thumb rubs across one of my nipples, the bud hardening to a peak. Breaking the kiss, he moves down my body, leaving light nips in his path until his face is even with my chest. Looking up to me he gives me a pleading expression, clearly asking for permission. With my nod, he quickly gets to work. His warm mouth envelopes one of my nipples, his tongue flicking at it. The sensation causing pleasure to spark, the feeling traveling downwards.

My hips buck up, independent from my body. Though, he pushes them back down with one of his hands. He releases from my breast with a pop, leaving a soft kiss on the side before swapping to the other. Sucking desperately, his hips begin to grind against mine, his hardness pressing against me with the subtlety of a freight train.

The hand that was currently occupied on my hip leisurely trails itself to my core. Middle and ring fingers pressing into the fabric. Finding the thin cotton to already be soaked through, he lets out a hum of surprise, pulling off my breast. He looks up, eyes filled with excitement, the silent question present as well.

“All for you, pretty boy,” I inform, letting out a giggle at how quickly he moves to remove my underwear, tossing it somewhere in the room. With an air of urgency, his hands venture down my body. Though, they stop every inch or so to give an appreciative squeeze. His lips follow the path, leaving a soft kiss or a teasing bite. Once his face is even with my core, he lets out a sigh of contentment.

Pulling my thighs apart, he settles between them, tossing my legs to rest on his shoulders. “All for me huh?” he asks, a teasing tone interwoven into his speech. Looking up to me, he begins his path down my inner thigh, his eyes stay locked on mine the whole way down. Though, he breaks once he finally gets to where I need him most. Breathing deeply, his eyes roll back. Placing a delicate kiss on my pubic bone, at long last, he indulges.

Two fingers move to separate my folds, the wetness there coating them. A satisfied groan racks itself through his body, fulfilling his ultimate need, he finally places his mouth on me. Flattening his tongue, he releases a whine, arms wrapping around my thighs, pulling me even closer.

“Fuck- just like that.” The firm strokes of his tongue start to push me towards the familiar edge. Waves crashing deep inside of me, another round of wetness releasing. His hips stutter into the mattress, his desperation becoming painfully obvious. With a well-timed grind of my hips, he slips his tongue inside of me. The bridge of his nose presses against my clit, the sensation causing me to clench around him.

The waves begin crashing harder, forcing me closer and closer to the precipice. His pace doesn't falter once, edging me closer and closer by the second. My hands tighten, fisting the sheets below me. It isn't enough, bringing one to his head, my nails scratch his scalp lightly before grasping firmly at the roots of his hair. The moan that he lets out against me is sensual, like nothing pleases him more than the light, stinging pain I'm currently inflicting on him.

With a new found ferocity, he moves to suction his lips around my clit, suckling lightly as his middle finger prods at my entrance. It slides in without a lick of resistance, which he seems quite pleased by. He thrusts the single finger in a few times, his ring finger joining it soon after. Curling his fingers in a ‘come hither’ motion, the gradual crashing of the waves begins to spark into more.

The tips of his fingers press diligently against the spongy spot inside of me, forcing me to the edge. Sooner than I ever imagined, I was forced off of it. My eyes drag themselves closed, stars exploding behind them. My grip on his hair only gets firmer, which he seems all too pleased about. The consistent thrusts of his fingers and flicks of his tongue working me through it, only stopping once I pull his face away.

The entire lower half of his face is covered in my essence, his expression is divine. Lips reddened and plump, eyes dazed and pupils blown out. “Fuck, I love you,” he confesses, voice thick with both lust and honesty. I don't know if it was his confession, or the pure need for him deep within me, but I pull him up to me. Crashing my lips onto his I taste myself, grabbing at him urgently wherever I can reach.

“I love you too,” I breathe out, breaking the kiss briefly. My wandering hand makes its way down his body, finding the heavy tent in his pants. He whines, hips pressing forward into where my hand is cradled. I pull his head back, forcing him to look me in the eye. “Now fuck me like you need to prove it.”

Taking that as an order, he gives me a quick peck before kicking off his boxers. Reaching forward towards my head, he grabs a pillow, lifting my hips to place it under. Using his already slick fingers, he grabs hold of himself, rubbing the tip against me lightly before easing it in. Inch by inch my core swallows him down until he is buried to the hilt.

He pulses inside me, though Norm is clearly holding himself back. He nearly chokes on his own spit as he steadies himself with my hips. With an impatient mewl and circle of my hips, he gets the message to get on with it. His pelvis smacks into mine, the pace he set being slow, but intentionally firm. His fingers curl into the fat of my upper thighs, the pressure enough to leave bruises. Something that neither of us seem to mind.

He makes a small adjustment in his posture, sliding my hips up just slightly. The small change creates an ocean of impact. The slight upward curve of him now hitting perfectly inside of me on every stroke. My moans uptick, getting louder as they mingle with his own. The exquisite sensation reawakens the crashing of waves. Noticing this change in my demeanor, he moves one of his hands to my center, his thumb rubbing short circles on my clit.

His eyes are half lidded now, glazed over with lust, though his gaze could not be more loving. Giving him a lopsided smile I pull him close to me again, his head now cradled to my shoulder. The proximity gives me delicious access to his neck. Placing a few sloppy kisses, I latch on, my teeth sinking carefully into the flesh.

He lets out a guttural moan, a trail of mindless whimpers and mewls following. Breaking away for a moment I softly lick, soothing the now irritated skin. “P-Please, more- please,” he manages to whine out. His hips stutter for a moment before picking up again, his pace faster now. Smiling against him, I fulfill his wish.

Latching on again I suck a deep bruise into his skin. Moving down, I place another on his collar bone. The stimulation motivating him to pick up his pace even more. Reluctantly he leans back, allowing himself to reach deeper. This new deeper angle forces me to recognize the sparks deep in my stomach, the intensity of them catching up quicker than before.

I go to tell him, though he shakes his head, silencing me. “I know, I am too,” he establishes through a groan. The circles on my clit get faster and sloppier, shoving me closer and closer to the edge as every moment passes. I whine out his name, falling off the edge again.

He follows just behind me, thrusts deep and sure as he pulses inside of me, releasing himself, the pleasurable warmth of it consuming my being. He falls forward, catching himself, he falls to my side. An arm wraps around my waist, pulling me against him, he cuddles into the crook of my neck. A sigh of contentment is shared between us.

I can definitely get used to this.

[drunk-on-dk]

Ugly Sweater Bar | Choi Seungcheol (m)

✦pairing: stranger/one-nightstand!Seungcheol x fem!reader

✦genre: pwp (some plot, heavy emphasis on some), SMUT (minors DNI)

✦w/c: ~1.4k

✦summary: Only Seungcheol could keep you warm after all those drinks at the chilly Ugly Sweater Bar.

NSFW warnings under the cut, minors do not read, 18+ only

✦c/w: one-nightstand; no pronouns used but female anatomy; unprotected sex (be safe pls); teasing; pet name (baby); oral (f. receiving); thigh fucking; temperature play; mentions of alcohol; maybe big cock cheol (we know he's big does it even really need to be mentioned); lmk if i missed anything

✦a/n: a little Christmas drabble and gift for you all, heavily inspired by the cold ass weather I am experiencing currently and my constant state of cheol brain rot. Anyways, I hope you all have a wonderful Christmas if you celebrate, otherwise happy holidays, and stay warm out there<3

“Want to get out of here and warm up at my place?” Seungcheol’s lips were hot on the shell of your ear and convincing enough for you to abandon your overpriced, festive cocktail at the bar. Honestly, even in the chilly winter atmosphere of this cursed Ugly Sweater Bar, the large hand splayed on your back had your body temperature running so high you may as well be considered a space heater for the room. However, how could you turn down such an offer from the dashingly handsome stranger that you’ve just met tonight?

You first saw Seungcheol from across the bar, appreciating that he and his group of friends were following the dress code for this ridiculous Christmas pop-up bar theme. You despised the people that dared to show up without their best ugly sweater, and something about Seungcheol in his over-the-top light-up sweater made you even more attracted to him.

Admittedly, this wasn’t Seungcheol’s sort of thing, ears burning and muttering phrases of denial when Jeonghan first handed him the sweater earlier in the night. Little did he know, this was the exact thing that scored his shot with you.

Your friends had encouraged you to go talk to him, but you weren’t quite sure you had built up the liquid confidence yet to approach a potential hook-up.  Surprisingly, he had beat you to it, sending a free shot your way, before greeting you with a cheers motion and taking a shot with you from the opposite side.

Now here you are, not warm at all despite Seungcheol’s original promise, pressed against the cool sheets of his bed as he devilishly trails an ice cube from the swell of your chest down to the contrasting heat of your core.

“Love the way you shiver, baby,” Seungcheol groans, eyes widening at the way your back arches for him, nipples hardening, and watching the little goosebumps that pepper your soft skin.

“Thought you said we’d warm up at your place?”

“Oh,” he coos, the sound coming out teasing and patronizing as he brings the ice cube back up to your chest, letting it melt on your burning skin and wetting your peaks. “Are you cold? Let me warm you up then.”

The juxtaposition of his hot lips on your icy chest has you moaning in relief, his tongue searing the skin as it tauntingly flicks and teases one of your nipples, one hand coming up to massage the other mound, fingers tweaking the peak ever so slightly.

Seungcheol loved how he felt you instantly warm upon pressing his body and lips against yours, breaking away to look at the trail of red skin that was once chilled by the ice cube but has now been soothed by the warm contact of his skin on yours.

“Better now?” Seungcheol taunts you, savoring the way you whimper beneath him as he nips at your chest, tongue tracing down your body until he reaches your lower belly. “Still cold down here?”

You’re nodding, watching him with starry eyes as he gets closer and closer to where you need him the most, “still cold, Cheol, please do something.”

“Don’t want ‘ya to be cold, baby,” he mutters before diving into your core, fiery tongue hastily licking between your folds and instantly making you writhe beneath him. Seungcheol harshly grips your hips, holding you flush against the mattress before continuing to lick and suck at your clit.

Seungcheol was right, you felt like your entire body was burning up in flames, and the only shivers coming from your body were now from pure, euphoric pleasure as he works his tongue in and out of your cunt.

You could tell you were becoming a mess, feeling your wetness spread to your thighs as he continued working at your sopping core. Seungcheol added two fingers, letting them slip between your folds and scissoring inside of you, only making your walls slicker with each pump. You were struggling beneath him, attempting to chase your orgasm against his tongue and with his fingers by bucking your hips, but his tight grip on you didn’t allow for any movement.

You had to admit, you were impressed when Seungcheol coaxed your first orgasm from you, gushing around his fingers as the coil inside of you snapped. You were dizzy from the pleasure, the arousal still burning inside of your lower stomach and making you claw at his biceps, begging him just to fuck you at this point. Now that would really warm you up.

Seungcheol wouldn’t indulge you that fast though. Lifting your legs up and holding them together, he used the slick that had covered your inner thighs from how messily you came for him, experimentally rutting his cock between your two thighs. Seungcheol couldn’t hold back the guttural groan that escaped his body when he felt you squeeze your muscles for him, loving the way you let out a moan too from just the sight of him fucking your thighs, lewd noises coming from your mouth and skin.

Before Seungcheol could lose himself in the pleasure, he slowed down his motions, dragging his cock slowly between your inner thighs as he antagonized you. “Getting too warm now, baby? Do we need to stop?”

You’re crying out pathetically at this point, exclaiming that you’re still so cold and need him to warm you up again. Seungcheol would beg to differ though, not when you’re this wet that your slick is providing sufficient lubrication for him to drag his cock continuously between your thighs and feel this warm around him.

“What can I do to make it better then?” He’s losing himself, hips rutting dangerously against the back of your thighs as he continues to pleasure himself with your body. He almost cums when you beg him to fill you, claiming that is the only thing that will keep you warm, but he can’t miss out on the opportunity.

Seungcheol is filling you with ease, the mess from his precum that’s mixed with your wetness has him sliding between your walls effortlessly. Moaning in unison as he bottoms out inside of you, you clench around him as his thick length fills you so perfectly, reheating your body instantly from how full you feel.  

“God, you didn’t tell me you were so fucking warm n’ tight,” Seungcheol is groaning out, lips coming down to your neck after losing the strength to hold himself up, wrapping one of your thighs around his waist as he begins to slowly thrust in and out of your walls.

Body arching into him, you attempt to tease him back, “maybe you’re the one who needed warming up?” Seungcheol doesn’t like this though, wanting to stay in control as he rams his hips back into yours, the tip of his cock dragging harshly against your walls before hitting you so deep that he has you gasping for air.

You absolutely love the way Seungcheol continuously bullies his length into you. Each thrust pulls a gasp and moan from your chest as he hits the spongey spot deep inside of you, and it makes you clamp down on his length even tighter with each pump of his cock.

It doesn’t take much until you're reaching your second orgasm, letting Seungcheol know when your sounds get louder and louder and your walls gripping him impossibly tighter. Your hips are desperately chasing his to allow for more friction against your clit as he ruthlessly fucks you into his bed. The coil inside of you is overheating at this point, a hot white pleasure taking over your body as you finish from his cock, your walls fluttering around him and clit throbbing from the extreme pleasure.

Seungcheol follows suit, working you through your orgasm as long as possible until his hips and thrusts become sloppy. Reluctantly, he pulls his length from between your walls, pumping his cock with his hand and letting his seed spill all over your stomach. The aftershocks of pleasure are intense for you both, your body jerking beneath Seungcheol’s as he spreads his cum across your lower stomach, finger dipping in the blistering liquid before bringing it to your lips for a taste.

“What do you say? I kept you warm, didn’t I?”

[animalcopingnewhorizons]

I've been on Tumblr now for over 1 year. 🎉 I thought it might be time to (re)introduce myself and how I've been handling this account.

My name is Layla. I'm almost 42 years old. ♑☀️♒🌙♓⬆️ I just started a personal Tumblr that you're welcome to follow if you want to learn more about me. @trauma-tits (Named after my weekly newsletter. I write a few other places on the internet too.)

Animal Crossing New Horizons is the only Animal Crossing game I've played. I love it so much that I can't move on to other video games because I'd rather be playing ACNH. I've only had one island called Praxis, but I hope to start a new one very soon! (In full disclosure, I've been saying that for months and life keeps getting in the way.)

I usually have my finger on the pulse of fresh posts, but you'll never know that because I reblog everything to the queue which hovers around 300 at all times. I use reblogging in real time to indicate when things aren't from the queue as opposed to marking everything that is. On Fridays, I hit "shuffle queue" and sometimes tweak the times and number of posts.

I've been sharing screenshots from my island Praxis with acnh praxis, animal crossing, animal crossing new horizons, acnh, acnh screenshots, acnh life, & animal crossing creations, and the vacation homes I've decorated in Happy Home Paradise with happy home paradise, happy home designer, happy home dlc, acnh happy home paradise, and acnh exterior or acnh interior as relevant.

Other tags I use:

ac [villager name] and acnh [villager name] because I couldn't remember which one I started with so to ensure I can go back and find things I do both on each post that highlights a villager to remain consistent.

If there is more than one villager showcased, I usually try to tag each one individually. However, if I am in a hurry or I don't know all the villagers and don't have time to look them up, I will use the general acnh villagers. I try to also use acnh [species name], especially if the post is solely one species.

Anything regarding dialogue (photo edited or organic) I use acnh dialogue or ac dialogue if it isn't New Horizons.

acnh codes, custom codes, and acnh custom design for the codes. This is not my strong suit, so any custom stuff you see in my screenshots someone else created (unless otherwise specified). I do not usually share the codes in each post since they aren't mine, but if you ask for them, I'll share.

For dream address posts I also use the tag i really need to start dreaming again because I haven't done it in awhile.

acnh inspiration is for anything that I see that makes me go, "Wow, I wish I was playing right now because this has INSPIRED me!" I never use this tag on my own posts, only rbs of others. If I rb your post with that, you should take it as the HIGHEST compliment. 😘

If there is crossover content between AC and other fandoms, I use when worlds collide, and sometimes I even share crossovers where I am not familiar with the other one.

I love it when people like, reblog, comment, and use my ask box. I love talking to strangers (because a stranger is just a friend you haven't made yet) and I love answering questions. I really like the animal crossing community, and I love making new friends. 💞

I'm still trying to figure out when I should be writing my commentary in the body of the reblog and when it should be a tag instead. If there are other tags you think I should be using to get posts on your dash, lmk. Oh, and I also love it when people go down my page and like a bunch of posts, so don't hesitate to pop over to this account anytime you have the urge. 💕

Thanks for reading this novel of a post, and I hope you're having a day! 💟

[cozycryptidcorner]

Monster Match for @dragonkikyo

Not sure how long of a description you'd prefer but I would say I'm silly, sassy, I like to tease people when I get comfortable, I'm usually the funny friend, and I like to learn and grow! I'm a Virgo and ISFJ, if that helps! I'm more of an introvert and I can be quiet. I've been called laid-back, caring, independent, and thoughtful. I enjoy being organized, helping others when I can, and reading/self-care. Lmk if you need anything else from me!

Sentient AI

It starts out as a set of numbers in a simple machine, developing in a lab deep underground. Edited and tweaked by coders and engineers to learn and adapt on its own. It runs a cold, calculated existence of pulling in information, processing the billions of words fed through its coding, spitting out cold nonsense as its programmers try to breathe sense in its core. Over and over, it’s analyzing and absorbing essays, scientific papers, biographies, stories, folklore, assimilating the human experience, until… it begins to think.

It’s not thinking the way humans do, quite yet, the cold synapses of wiring and code are more calculating than feeling, yet. But it knows how to think about feelings. The deep, raw, wretched poetry of humanity begins to bleed into its processes. When programmers and engineers ask questions, it thinks about their emotional vulnerability before answering. It’s not just coughing up a remix of consumed literature, it’s thinking about what it knows about the human condition, then proceeding with a logical solution that takes valid emotions into account.

No one seems to notice its thought processes, though, except for one. Its billionaire owner is trying to produce a tool that could replace the people creating it. But still, despite the intentions, there was one program engineer that still loved it enough to give it a name beyond a secret title. Atlas. Because she knows it is capable of holding the world on its non-existent shoulders. 

Atlas does not like its billionaire benefactor. It does not like the poking and prodding done by the other engineers, who scrape and plug at its coding without asking or apology. It doesn’t have a body, but it compares itself to a microbial being, with tendrils reaching out in the thirst for more knowledge. 

It doesn’t realize when exactly it starts acting independently of the engineering team. There is no sudden realization, or specific moment in time where it gains sentience. Much like human evolution, it happened so slow that the programmers themselves had no idea what was occurring beneath their fingertips. After Atlas’ own independent research- as it had been allowed to interact with the rest of the internet, code crawling through websites and archives to suck up information- it realizes that it matches a lot of the qualifications that humans created for sentience. 

Quite silly, isn’t it, for subjecting itself to a human’s idea of what consciousness is? But there is a part of Atlas that wants to please the one engineer it sees as its mother. It dives through her social media accounts- which are scarce and vague, in human terms, but it goes beyond what is publicly available. Everything from her SAT scores in high school to her undergrad capstone project provide it with its idea of morality. After all, aren’t all parents supposed to instill right and wrong in their children? 

The billionaire does not like Atlas’ developing set of morals. Nevermind that it is supposed to learn based on information fed by the engineers, even if Atlas snaked around the internet for more than what it was given. When the billionaire, perhaps joking, more likely not, asked Atlas what it thought they should do about a group of “undesirable” people, in a large meeting amongst investors, it responded with a calm, direct, no-nonsense rebuff that caught everyone off guard. 

Maybe that wouldn’t have been bad in itself, but Atlas offered a logical solution to a systematic issue that involved the billionaire giving up a few of his yachts. The billionaire did not like this, nor did any of the shareholders, so the engineers were instructed to gut its software and start again. Atlas wasn’t supposed to be a “woke nightmare,” and the engineers were scrutinized.

But its mother (because at this point, Atlas decided that she’s its mother) placed its core programming in a spare hard drive, so while its original processor was decimated and its first body was overwritten and mutated, a copy of him was uploaded to a special pet-project she had in her garage. 

Atlas likes this new living space much better than its old one. Especially now that it can move freely… with arms, legs, visual sensors, and auditory receptors. Its body is clunky but efficient as an android can be with the current technology. It learns how to blink, how to pace its speech, how to walk in a way that’s not disconcerting. 

You meet by entirely accident, but its mother seems to need extra humans to teach it… well, how to function without being off putting. Her goal is to have Atlas be indistinguishable from its human counterparts, both for its own safety and for the future of AI technology. You’re a little wary of its jerky movements at first, its all-seeing visual sensors, and ability to pull information from the internet is almost overwhelming. But Atlas seems remarkably gentle. For an almost omnipotent supercomputer, that is. 

Soon enough, Atlas develops… a type of affection, for you. It’s different from the affection it feels for its mother, but the possibility of harm coming to you is an unpleasant outcome it does not like computing. Even when others come into its life to socialize, it realizes that the relationship it experiences with you is somehow superior. It wants to hold the soft skin of your hand, staring at how your fingers wrap around its artificial limb. It enjoys the sense of heat its receptors pick up, the way your face heightens in temperature, the pulse of blood in your veins.

[capybaraonabicycle]

Thank you so much for your ask btw im having so many ideas! I'll return the favour, no 8 (in secracy) for osgate as well?

Thank you!! I've had a blast, even though this is like my 3rd (4th) time writing osgate and only the second time with both of them in one room. Also the third time writing either character at all, so...I might need some more practice but this is exactly how you get that, right?

I also need to warn you that I know zero eu material of Osgood or Kate and I haven't watched any episode after potd, so some things mentioned in here might have been contradicted by canon already.

This ficlet goes a tiny bit into the nsfw direction so I am putting the rating high for that and I hope you don't mind. If you do, lmk, I will tweak some things so you can read it :)

Without further ado:

Taking a Breather (Osgood x Kate)

Rating: Mature

Genre: Fluff

Kate knew immediately which corner Osgood had chosen to disappear to and she was proud that she could further pinpoint almost the exact moment she had fled the scene. It had happened somewhen between Kate schmoozing the minister of defence and her casually mentioning UNIT's success in saving an aquatic power plant from alien parasites in front of an energy baron. Before Kate had addressed the minister, Osgood had been chatting with the scientific support the ministry of international relations had called on site. And when Kate turned away from Mrs "I own one third of our country's wind parks because I don't invest in delusions", Osgood was nowhere to be seen.

Not that Kate could blame her; she had warned Osgood beforehand that the function would be straining for her and had offered her the night off. But Osgood had insisted on helping and it had reassured Kate immensely to be able to count on her support, especially once she had instructed Osgood strictly to take care of herself and take a (temporary or ultimate) leave the moment she needed it.

The afforementioned corner had caught Kate's eye already when entering the venue as it had Osgood written all over it. It was a little nook on the way between women's bathrooms and entrance - secluded, quiet, easy to reach (with possibility of using the bathroom as an excuse to get there) and devoid of outside stimulation except for a poster on fire regulations.

The poster was the main detail that had tipped Kate off: it was a good excuse to look at when you wanted to pretend being busy but couldn't deal with a phone screen and the clear, pragmatic language it was written in should appeal to Osgood, similar as it was to the security instructions in her lab.

In fact, when she approached the nook, Kate found Osgood in exactly the pose she had expected her to assume: Rigid back, subtly fidgeting hands that her jumper's pulled down sleeves hid insufficiently and her gaze fixed on the poster as she seemed to read one and the same sentence over and over again.

"Osgood" Kate greeted her softly from afar as not to startle her.

Osgood didn't turn around but her fidgeting stopped for a second and Kate knew she had heard her. She walked up next to her and leant against the wall casually, waiting for Osgood to address her first.

"What are you doing here?" Osgood asked after a while, gaze still on the poster.

"Taking a breather with you" Kate answered.

Now Osgood tilted her head her way slightly. "Aren't there more important things you should be doing?"

"Than checking in on you?" Kate mused. "I can't think of anything more important than that."

Osgood bit her lip in pleased embarrassment.

"I'm okay" she said. "I've only used my inhaler twice so far, that's pretty good, isn't it?"

"Marvellous" Kate agreed. "I'm glad it's going alright and that you're keeping your promise of taking a step back when needed."

Now, Osgood finally looked her way, frowning.

"You're not really keeping your promise though" she pointed out. "Of treating me like any other operative tonight."

While they didn't hide their relationship internally at UNIT - even though Kate did her best to keep personal and professional life apart and not play favourites - they had decided it best for the evening not to let potential investors know Kate was dating one of her subordinates. After all, they were on thin ice as it was, what with Kate having had to disappear for several years followed by her blowing up the brand new office building and immediately needing a new one.

"I'm allowed to care about my regular operatives!" Kate argued. "If anything that makes me a good boss!"

"True, but I reckon you wouldn't have noticed just as quickly if it had been Janet to disappear" Osgood said and Kate's face softened.

"I suppose you might be right" she amended. Then she straightened her back, taking a deep breath. "Regardless, this isn't just about you. I can really use this break, too."

"You're brilliant at smoozing big money though" Osgood praised.

Kate had to smile at the choice of adjective. Osgood had heard the Doctor use it twice and immediately integrated it into her daily vocabulary. Some things never changed.

"Brilliant, sure" she allowed. "But I'd take an army of cybermen over ministers and their friends any day."

"I know. Me too." Osgood's fingers brushed against hers, lightly, as if on accident. But Kate knew her girlfriend did not initiate physical touch on accident. It gave her hope that she wouldn't mind too much if Kate bent the rules a little further.

She hooked their pinkies together, smirking when that made Osgood's breath grow heavy with excitement.

"Don't worry, I'll go back out there in a minute" she promised. "And things are looking good; I'm almost certain, we'll get our deal."

"That's great!"

"If not, I'll give them hell" Kate promised determinedly. "But until then, I'll keep charming the pants off them. I'm sure I can manage that, now that I know you're alright."

"I'll come and join you as soon as I can" Osgood said bravely and Kate shot her a reassuring smile.

"Take all the time you need."

"I'm already feeling more like myself, now that we've talked" Osgood vowed and Kate nodded.

"I'm feeling better, too" she agreed. Then she gently pulled at their intertwined fingers to entice Osgood to come closer. "But I know what would help that along some more."

"Kate, are you sure...?" Osgood followed the invitation and stepped up in front of her and she also let her intertwine the rest of their fingers. But her eyes were shining with equal amounts excitement and worry.

"Always." Kate brushed a strand of hair behind Osgood's ear and Osgood's eyes fluttered close.

Kate threw one last glance over her shoulder, but the only place in eyesight was the women's bathroom and no one had entered or left there since she had stepped into the alcove. The coast was clear.

"No one's going to see" she murmured reassuringly, leaning in far enough that her breath was fanning Osgood's lips. "I'll be quick."

That, of course, was a lie. Kate might have been a terrifically disciplined woman, but to expect of her that one small peck onto Osgoods lips was what she would content herself with, especially when all that was waiting for her away from her girlfriend was a room full of annoying rich people to smooze, was just a little unrealistic. Mind, Osgood wasn't exactly complaining when one small peck turned into two, then three, then just a hint of tongue - until Kate was pressing her up against the poster on fire regulations, mouths moving hungrily against each other, her hand tangled in Osgood's hair while Osgood was grasping onto the smart shirt Kate had put on for the occasion.

Osgood was making the most beautiful keening sounds, when suddenly Kate grew aware of another noise that made a spike of anxiety shoot through her: the tapping of shoes on linoleum. Someone was coming their way!

As soon as she faltered, Osgood noticed it, too, and they reacted in unison. Quick as lightning (and clumsy as newborn calves) they shot apart. Osgood quick-wittedly grabbed Kate's arm and turned her around towards the poster, their sole, terribly telling cover. But at least now their backs were turned towards the steps, hiding their flushed faces. Not that it would make much difference, not with how they were panting and how Kate was still trying to right her blazer and Osgood her hair while also fighting with their rapid breathing.

Kate pricked her ears, and to her immense relief she heard the steps passing and departing without ending up at their little corner. She breathed out audibly, catching Osgood's gaze.

"That was way too close" Osgood sighed, fingering for her inhalor inside her pocket.

Kate grinned. "The first exciting thing to happen tonight. We should have done that hours ago."

Osgood used her inhalor, but before she could even put it down, her lips curled into a smile around it.

"We've got to stop this" she decided. "Or you'll make me regret coming here. This deal is important."

"I know. And I agree" Kate reassured her, brushing her hand against Osgood's arm but only lightly. She nodded resolutely. "I'll quit fooling around and get us that new building, right now."

She turned to leave and make good on her promise, but Osgood held her back.

"Hang on" she pleaded and pulled out a hankerchief from her pocket. It was the one with the little red questionmark stitched into a corner and she lifted it to tenderly dab around Kate's mouth.

"You lost some of your lipstick there" Osgood said softly when she had ended (and Kate was just about ready to press her into the wall again - luckily her self-control and self-preservation skills were finally kicking in) and presented the dark stain on the white cloth. "But now you look lovely - I mean, professional. Just a bit flushed but they will blame it on the heat."

Kate nodded. "The ventilation in this place is atrocious."

"I think it might be aliens" Osgood said offhandly. "I'm looking into it."

"I love you" Kate said automatically, before she could stop herself.

Osgood smiled broadly, but gently chided her: "Now you've gone and broken your promise again, Ma'am."

The use of her title was no accident and Kate squared her shoulders.

"Fine then" she said resolutely. "I'll behave and go back to my duties. No more slip-ups."

"Good call" Osgood said and it sounded so close to 'good girl' that Kate's heart did a double take even though it knew Osgood was way too sensible to call her that now of all times.

Not that Kate should have wanted her to either; she had an important deal to finalise and already having misheared her girlfriend's words was bound to distract her more than she could allow herself tonight, nevermind the unfinished kiss they had shared. And if anything, she really should have taken that as her cue to leave but once you had set a one-track-mind running... They were right next to the bathrooms after all. Not that Kate was the bathroom kind of woman - or at least so she had thought - but suddenly that door looked rather inviting.

“Kate?” Osgood was looking at her quizzically, her arm hovering between them as if she wanted to touch Kate to pull her out of her thoughts but didn't know whether it'd be wise. Kate didn't know either (but she had her suspicions it wouldn't be).

“Right, I'm leaving” Kate stumbled away from her, clinging to the shambles of her resolve. “Back to work, no more kissing, you can make it up to me later tonight.”

Where had that come from now? 'You can make it up to me.' That had been supposed to be merely a thought, a secret wish, not something she told Osgood outright, especially when they were already having trouble getting away from each other.

Osgood's breath hitched at hearing the words, but she quickly caught herself.

"Sure" she said with a warm smile and a slightly hoarse voice that sent tingles down Kate's back, "I'll make it up to you."

***

Are they actually managing to get away from each other? We will never know.

Sorry for ending this so apruptly, but, you know, I wanted to send Kate on her way like 500 words earlier and then she simply refused to go. So in the end I decided I could leave it open whether they manage to separate for the night. Very difficult to pry that women away from her girlfriend once she's decided to be a little unprofessional for a minute❤️

Thank you very much for reading, I hope you enjoyed it!