#mop leveling guide

[impale-me-radio-daddy]

Heaven Spent

℣ Pairing: Vox X angelic!reader

℣ Summary: A naïve angel descends to Hell looking for Vagina. Finds Vox instead.

℣ Content notes: Voyeurism, first time for everything, explicit sexual content, thigh riding, guided masturbation, Vox being Vox, pet names: mostly sweetheart, babydoll and baby, reader is a girl, reader has a pussy and tits, reader has a name and it's a fucking stupid one.

Now has a sequel: Hell 2 Pay!

You weren’t a real exorcist, not really. You didn’t pass the wingspan requirement for a start, or, as the Lieutenant never ceased to remind you, the strength requirements. You were never getting selected into one of the lucky squads who got to go down to Hell and do battle with demons. But you had begged to join, and everyone needed someone to sweep the floors and do laundry, and so, that was you, swooping through the exorcist barracks with a mop and bucket while everyone around you trained in combat.

Most of the exorcists didn’t even acknowledge your existence. You were invisible, inaudible, the help. The big exception to the rule was Lieutenant’s strongest soldier, Vagina. You would see her training tirelessly, on the practice grounds after all the others had left, and bring her a fresh towel and a pitcher of iced lemonade. She would smile at you. She knew your name. When you started talking about something that interested you, she didn’t tell you to go away or walk off.

In all of Heaven, Vagina was the closest thing you had to a friend.

And then, one day, the squads had come back from their battles with the forces of Hell, and she had been gone. No-one had wanted to look you in the eye, no-one even mentioned her name. Gone. Dead? No, Vagina was Heaven’s strongest soldier, you’d heard Adam say as much. There was no way she could be dead.

Had they left her behind? Every day your thoughts were plagued by thoughts of Vagina stuck behind enemy lines, Hell’s forces doing terrible things to her. And of course the Lieutenant wouldn’t send more exorcists after her; how could she risk Heaven’s forces for the wellbeing of a single soldier? But you? You were disposable. You were no asset to Adam’s forces, your wings so malformed that you could barely fly, and with Vagina gone there wasn’t anyone who would miss you on a personal level.

With your access to the exorcists’ laundry, it was easy to assemble a makeshift uniform for yourself, a spare sword strapped to your waist as you lined up with the departing squads. The masks disguised everyone’s faces, so no-one looked twice at you. You filtered out the chatter of the exorcists around you as you watched the portal to Hell open, a glowing circle with a core of deep red.

You would find Vagina, and return to Heaven with her, useful at last. Maybe the Lieutenant would be so impressed that she would make you a full exorcist.

Vox slurped his kale and spirulina smoothie as he watched the descending horde of angels through fifteen distinct drone feeds. This year’s purge was uncharacteristically quiet in the Vee tower; Valentino was doing some sort of romantic make-up dinner with one of his sluts and Velvette was organizing some sort of augmented reality event where sinners ran the length of the city taking selfies without getting killed by exorcists, which left Vox holding down the fort.

One of the systems gave a beep as it picked up an anomaly. Now that, that was interesting. It looked like the pack had a straggler this year. Vox picked a drone to fly closer, opening a channel to Velvette as he did so.

“-you better not be taking the piss, Vox. I’m sort of a tiny bit busy here, if you hadn’t noticed.”

“Hear me out, this could be big,” said Vox, and Velvette gave a snort but went quiet. “Any of your fuckheads out near the west side of the pentagram?”

One of your wings was bigger than the other. That was just how it was, just a little defect that made it difficult to fly, and almost impossible to fly long distances. When you had asked about it, Saint Peter had patted you on the shoulder and told you that everyone was special in different ways. And you had accepted that. Some people got beautiful singing voices, or brains that could do mathematics faster than anyone else’s, and you got one wing that was smaller than the other, primary feathers growing in with a slight curl that meant your flight was wobbly and exhausting.

And that was just part of God’s plan.

What was not part of God’s plan, it seemed, was for you to keep up with the squads of exorcists descending to Hell. They sped up as they passed through the portal, the pack quickly speeding up to a pace that your wings could no longer carry you at. You found yourself drifting behind, panting as you beat your wings to correct your uneven path.

Strangely, you didn’t see the forces of Hell rising to do battle, but you supposed you were inexperienced in this sort of thing. The last time you’d even swung a sword had been at the exorcist tryouts. Giving up on catching up with the pack, you hung back, your wingbeats slowing as you surveyed the city below from your wobbly vantage point. You should find somewhere to hide, you reasoned, until the battle was over and you could look for Vagina safely.

Finding Vagina in Hell was harder than you would have guessed. Even after you shed your exorcist disguise and folded your wings away, people didn’t really want to talk to you, and when you started asking about Vagina, faces turned covetous, and people started asking for money. Which, of course, you didn’t have. You didn’t need money in Heaven, why would people want it in Hell? But everywhere you asked, the answer was the same. If you wanted to know about Vagina, you needed money. And if you wanted money, well, you needed a job.

That's how you found yourself in a line of sinners three miles long, for an open audition for a spokesperson for something called Angelic Security, a subdivision of something called VoxTek. You weren’t going for the audition itself, but a sinner had offered you money to queue for them, and queuing was a pretty morally decent, angel-appropriate act. You knew how to queue. You could queue for days.

You were queuing when a fish demon with a VoxTek nametag walked past, on a video call with someone important, the other side of the conversation blaring out the speakers of his tablet as he held it up to his face.

“Listen, do you have any idea how fucking busy I am today? Whose crackpot idea was this anyway? No, don't answer that, I don't fucking care. Just pick the three at the front and, uh, that one, no, the hot one with the gray skin.”

“Whatever you say, sir.” The fish demon glanced over his shoulder at you, making a beckoning gesture as the man on the other end cut the call.

You pointed to your chest with a silent me? and the fish demon nodded, walking on without a backwards look as you trailed along after him.

“Actually, I was holding a spot in the line for someone else, they were going to pay me money, if you could let me borrow a phone, I could -” you scurried to keep up. “-you know I don't think it's really fair that someone’s paid me to keep their place and now I'm going in with you, isn't that against the rules?”

“Look, lady.” The fish demon held out a hand as he waved the other candidates over, to grumbling from the other people in the line. “I'm not paid enough to deal with your drama shit, save it for the casting director.”

“Are you really going to leave all those people out there?” you asked quietly as the assistant let you through the security gate at the front of the building. “Some of them have been waiting for days. It doesn’t seem fair.”

The man shrugged. “What can I say? Welcome to Hell.”

Out of a lingering sense of guilt, you let the three women who had been in the front of the line go into the audition first, so that when you were called up, no-one was waiting. The casting director turned out to be the tall demon in the shirtsleeves and sweater vest that the dour fish had been talking to on his tablet. He had a large, rectangular head, and was handsome, in a striking sort of way.

He was sat on a bench against the wall of the audition room, elbows on his knees, and he looked up as you came in, watching you walk, an eyebrow raised.

“H-hey.” You gave a little wave. “I think there’s been a misunderstanding. You see, I was saving a space in the line for someone else, but the assistant told me to come in here, and, you see, I was hoping that maybe I could phone the person, and, um, maybe they could do the audition?”

“You have no idea who I am, do you?” The television headed demon gave you a sidelong grin.

“I'm really sorry, but I don't.” You bit your lip, mentally preparing for a lie. “You see, I'm kind of new here.”

“Oh yeah? How long since you, y'know?” He made a vague hand gesture, getting to his feet.

Oh, darn. You had no idea what a good number would be here. You furrowed your brow. So if the universe was about ten thousand years old, and the average human lived to one hundred and twenty years old… a reasonable amount of time for a newcomer to have been in Hell was…

“Oh, not long. Only about three hundred years.” You plastered a big smile over your face, hoping Mr Television bought your deception.

“Oh, only three hundred you say? Wow, you are new, huh.” He smiled back at you, and you did a quick internal fist pump. Success! You were a natural liar! At this rate, you'd be able to find Vagina and be out of Hell in no time flat.

“My name's Vox, by the way. Like the company.” He snapped his fingers, and the tagline VOXTEK: TRUST US scrolled across the big screen on the wall of the audition room. He tilted his head. “What's yours?”

“My name?” You blinked. It had been a very long time since you'd had to introduce yourself to anyone not already aware of your name, and everybody in Hell just seemed to enjoy making up rude epithets for you, so you hadn't bothered with introductions. “My name's, uh, Areola. Like the -” you paused, unbuttoning your shirt.

Vox stared at you, frozen for a second before he raised a hand to cover yours, halting your struggling fingers. “You don't need to whip them out, dollface. I know what a boob is.”

“Y-you do?” you stammered, part of you thankful and a smaller, more sinful part disappointed, the touch of his fingertips on your hand like fire against your nerves. He was probably down here for one of the carnal sins, the sins of the flesh Chastity was always warning the younger angels about. “Of-of course you do, silly me.”

“Can I call you Ari?”

You’d always hoped the other angels would give you a nickname like that. Like Vagina was called Vaggie by her squadmates. But everyone in Heaven who called you by any name at all called you Areola, even Vagina did. To have Vox just give you a nickname like this, apropos of nothing, seemed too good to be true.

“Y-yeah! I’d like that. A lot, actually.” You swallowed. “You’re the first person who’s been nice to me here,” you admitted.

Vox shrugged. “I’m a nice guy, most of the time. I can afford to be. You want the job?”

“What?” You blinked. “B-but I didn’t audition. I w-wasn’t even in the line.”

“It’s not a hard job, if that’s what you’re worried about,” said Vox, holding out his hand. “You take a few photos, record a few infomercials, and bam, you’re done! You won’t even have to run your own social media profiles. And the money-”

“I’m really sorry, Vox, I-I can’t.” You took a step backwards, hands raised. “I-I should go. I don’t want to waste any more of your time.”

You ran.

You ran without thinking, heart in your throat, past the security doors, away. Taking something that wasn’t yours was stealing, even if someone offered it to you. You should never have gone inside. Hell was terrible and confusing, and you wished that Vagina was here. She would know what to do. She would have said something tough, and made Vox do the right thing. She wouldn’t have run away. You stopped, panting for breath, and realized you had no idea where you were. You were down an alley, a crowd of curious sinners behind you.

“Hey, it’s that bitch who cut the line.”

“Thinks she’s better than us.”

Oh, this was bad. You took a step back, reaching for your angelic sword with a trembling hand.

Velvette’s face looked down at Vox from the big screen on the wall where the tagline had scrolled, thirty feet wide. “That’s seriously who you’re gonna hire as the new Angelic Security mascot? You have to be fucking shitting me.”

Vox rolled his eyes. “Velvette, she is a real, literal fucking angel. I challenge you to think of a more appropriate pick.”

“It’s your subsidiary, so whatever.” Velvette pursed her lips. “I just hope you know that I’m not costuming her dumpy arse.”

“Your concerns are duly noted,” said Vox, redirecting his attention from the call to his nearby drones. “Now pipe down. I need to focus.”

Vox gave a small sigh as he transferred a small portion of his conscious mind to the drone that hung in the air over the dispersing line of would-be auditions, looking for your face. He flitted from security camera to security camera, searching for a telltale flash of white and grey.

Truthfully, he hadn’t expected you to be so naive. Exorcists, from what data he had on them, were hardened killers, who regarded sinners as scum to be cleaned up.

Vox hadn’t spent a lot of time with exorcists, but he had spent a lot of time with killers, and his guts told him you weren’t one. Which was weird, but he could work with that. He just needed to make sure that no-one else got to you before he did.

“Alleyway behind the old munitions factory,” said Velvette from above him, sounding bored. “There’s three pissed off old slags about to shiv your new pet; someone’s streaming it.”

Fuck. Vox grimaced, switching his attention to the feed. Sure enough, there you were, fear on your face as three taller sinners made you back up against a wall, your hands out, pleading. “I’m gonna cut the signal. Make sure nothing goes viral.”

Travel by lightning was fast, but it wasn’t instantaneous. Vox manifested in a flash of ozone to see two dead sinners, you with your sword through the guts of a third. Your eyes were glowing gold, unseeing and dangerous, a splatter of blood across your face.

“Ari?” Vox ventured, keeping his voice as low and calming as he could.

“I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to, oh-” You yanked the sword from the guts of the woman who’d been about to stab you, and oh goodness that was a lot of blood that was gushing out of her. You looked in horror at Vox. “I didn’t-” you started, then stopped. The one person in this place who had been kind to you, and he had to see you like this? These sinners weren’t even soldiers; they just looked like regular people, and granted they had tried to murder you, but that didn’t mean they deserved to die.

“Hey, babydoll. Easy, now.” Vox approached you his hands out, calming.

You were a murderer now; the police would catch you and you’d have to go to Hell jail. You didn’t want to go to Hell jail; the food was probably terrible and you’d never be able to find Vagina. The back of your throat hurt at the hopelessness of it all. You stared at Vox, your vision wobbling as tears formed.

“You’ll be okay, shit, uh, let’s get that big knife out of your hand-” Vox’s blue talons were on your fingers, prying them from the hilt of your sword as he moved in, and you resisted for a second before his coaxing moved you and you let go, surrendering the sword into Vox’s grasp as his other arm wrapped around you. “You’re gonna be okay, I got you.”

Pressing your face into the fuzzy material of Vox’s sweatervest, you gave a big, ugly sob. You clung to him as you cried, vaguely aware of his arm around you, his claws petting your hair. Oh, you’d ruined everything now. He probably thought you were pathetic.

“I’m really sorry,” you mumbled against his chest. “Y-you should probably hand me over to the police now, so you don’t get in trouble.”

“Excuse me?” Vox’s tone was incredulous.

You sniffed, blinking more tears from your eyes. “You know, the police? Since I committed three murders?”

“Oh, sweetheart,” Vox breathed, looking down at you, his claws carding through your hair. “There aren’t any police in Hell. Well, there are lots of cops in Hell, sure, but no police force.”

“B-but I just, I just-” you motioned to the bodies in the alleyway behind you. “How will I be punished?”

“Oh, fuck me, you’re adorable.” Vox covered his face with a hand. “You’ve had a long day, babydoll. Let me take you home, and you can have a bath, and a change of clothes, and maybe then we can talk about your problems, yeah? I’m sure we can come to some kind of arrangement.”

No-one had ever been this nice to you, even in Heaven. Part of you wondered whether Vox was in Hell by mistake, and you nodded, slowly, face against his chest again as his hand moved to the small of your back.

“You’re bringing a fucking exorcist to our fucking living quarters?” Valentino’s eyebrow raised above the frames of his pink glasses. “Are you fucking stupid? Or just thinking with your dick?”

“Look, I’ve just gotta win her trust, okay” Vox leaned back, analyzing Valentino’s surroundings through the videofeed. He was in his studio, which was a good thing. There was also a visible lovebite on the exposed skin above Val’s second set of arms. Which was good; it meant Valentino and his on-off squeeze were on talking terms.

“So you can fuck her?” Valentino took a drag on his cigarette, pink smoke briefly clouding the lens of the camera.

“Uh, so she’ll fucking work with us.” Vox sighed heavily. “You have a one track fucking mind sometimes Val, I swear.”

“But you are gonna fuck her, aren’t you?” There was a gleam in Val’s eye now.

“First of all,” said Vox, holding up a finger, careful with his volume so that his words didn’t travel to you ensconced in your bubble bath in the next room. “I don’t recall putting you in charge of where I put my dick. And secondly, fuck you.”

Valentino laughed, good-natured. “Alright, papito.” He grinned, gold tooth flashing. “I’ll take my Angel out somewhere else tonight, you have fun with yours.”

They compared calendars before Vox closed the call, grumbling to himself. All things considered, it could have gone much worse- if Valentino hadn’t been in a good mood, he might have decided to be jealous and that would have been a pain in the ass. Valentino’s instincts weren’t wrong, either; the big moth had been around Vox for too long to not have picked up on his preferences. The combination of dangerous power and lack of worldliness just did something for him. And then there was your body.

Vox chanced a peek through the security cameras as you climbed out of the bath, a sneak preview, he told himself, growing hard in his pants as he took in the soft lines of your thighs, the crest of downy feathers that covered your pudenda, snowy white to match your hair. Fuck, but you looked soft all over, as if his hands would sink right into you. Vox cut the feed with a groan; if he kept on watching there was a good chance you’d walk in on him jacking off over the video, and that wasn’t really the impression he wanted to make. No, he needed to be trustworthy, a good guy, someone you felt you could work for. Someone you’d trust your soul to.

And Vox might be a voyeur, but he could keep it in his pants if he needed to. Business before pleasure.

Vox was right; the bath did help. Warm water cradled your body, the panic that had wracked you flowing out of you. You added bath salts, and bubbles, and stayed in there much longer than you really needed to, feeling the dirt that had accumulated on you since your descent into Hell float away. Vox’s tower was the only place you’d visited in Hell so far that had been clean, all shining chrome and expensive polished black granite. Finally, you climbed out, even your conscience feeling cleaner than it had when you had started, and grabbed a towel so fluffy that felt like it had been imported from Heaven.

The outfit that Vox had left for you was modest and well-fitting, a soft wool cardigan with a camisole and blouse to go underneath and a pleated a-line skirt that reached your mid-calf, all in eggshell colors that complemented your grey skin. Even the underwear was perfectly sized, and you tried not to think too hard about it- you were pretty sure that one of VoxTek’s subsidiaries was a fashion company of some sort, and Vox had probably guessed.

“Hey, Ari.” Vox gave you a smile as you stepped out, and you found yourself smiling back at him. “You feeling better? I ordered us Dim Sum.”

“I, uh, yeah. Thank you.” You pushed your hair behind your ear. “For everything.”

Vox’s smile only grew. Your plan had been to thank him for his help and leave, but he’d gone to the trouble of organizing you food already and leaving would be rude and the little steamed buns he was offering you smelled very good, so you found yourself sitting with him, listening to him talk about the food as he piled different items onto your plate. All of it was delicious.

“-and you need to try this one, it’s got the spicy shrimp paste, I don’t know how you are with spice, so it might come on a bit strong for you, but it’s worth it, trust me.”

You nodded, your reflexive oh no, I couldn’t dying on your lips as you smelled the bun, the delicate scent of the shrimp coupled with a dark, sweet undercurrent. You bit in, the gummy texture of the outer dumpling giving way to something coarser and more savory; perfectly cooked crustacean flesh that leaked juices when broken, in the paste that Vox had described, which imbued a richness and a sweetness both at once. It had a spice that began as an ache on the back of your tongue, and built and built upon itself, until you were salivating almost painfully and yet somehow wanting more. You closed your eyes, your jaw stopping to prolong the moment.

“So.” Vox picked his moment to lean in, face perilously close to yours. “What do you want, Ari?”

You, was your embarrassing, gut instinct response, thankfully stymied by your mouth full of dumpling. You chewed and swallowed, which gave you time to think. Vox was trustworthy. He’d been nothing but kind to you. He wanted to help. “I had- have a friend,” you said, feeling your pulse quicken. It was a risk, telling Vox. If he figured out that you were an angel, you’d be in big trouble. “She’s in Hell, somewhere. I’m looking for her.”

“I’m pretty good at finding people,” said Vox, his expression sympathetic. “Maybe I could help?”

You shook your head, the taste of the dumpling still lingering on your tongue. “I can’t ask you to do that. You’ve already done so much, and I’ve got no way to repay you. I don’t even have money.”

“I’m sure there’s a way we could help each other,” said Vox, unperturbed. “Money isn’t everything, after all. Let’s think about it, see what we come up with, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you echoed Vox, nodding slowly. “You’re really nice to me,” you added, with a small frown.

“And is that a bad thing?” Vox asked, his screen tilting. He picked up the second of the shrimp paste dumplings with his chopsticks.

“No,” you admitted, quietly.

“Then,” said Vox, holding the dumpling out to you, not to your plate this time, but to your face. “You should accept it, yeah?”

Your face flushed from grey to white as you came to the realization that Vox’s intention was to hand feed you, a warm sensation in your stomach that had nothing to do with hunger. Cupping your hands under the dumpling to ensure none spilled, you opened your mouth. Again the outer shell of the dumpling was gummy against your lips, and you held it gently between your teeth so that Vox could withdraw his chopsticks. He looked happy as you chewed, and you told yourself this was nothing untoward, simply the demon being a good host.

“We should watch a movie,” he said, chin in his hand as he watched you chew. “I’ll let you pick.”

Hell, it turned out, or at least Vox, had a much wider selection of titles than were available in Heaven, and you hesitated to pick. In the end, Vox quizzed you on what you’d seen and what your favorites were, and picked something out. His earlier demand, of accept it, let me be nice to you, stuck in your head, overriding doubts that you might have expressed. You’d been warned, in Heaven, about the dangers of fraternization. How two people, watching a movie together alone, could fall into sin. But you’d never done anything like that, and Vox seemed nice.

When Vox patted the sofa next to him, you hesitated, and so Vox grabbed the bucket of popcorn he’d made and placed it by his thigh, a barrier between you.

“Better?” he asked, one eyebrow raised.

You looked at the popcorn. “It won’t stop us kissing,” you joked, a small smile.

“You can kiss me, if you like,” Vox returned your grin. “I won’t mind.”

He wasn’t joking, you realized, a surge of warmth through your core that caught you unguarded. “Isn’t that a sin?”

“Kissing?” Vox raised an eyebrow. “I’ve read like five, six versions of the bible and I don’t think any of them said shit about kissing.”

“Oh.” You swallowed, feeling your face turn from gray to white in a blush.

Vox didn’t do more than to open the possibility for you, but that possibility remained, playing at the periphery of your mind as you watched the movie with him, his arm looped easy round your shoulders, the bucket of popcorn the only chaperone stopping your hips from touching his. You could lean over, and just kiss him.

Waiting until he was engrossed in the film, his slim side profile showing to you, you leaned in, pressing your lips to the plastic of his screen’s casing. The material was smooth, the edges angular, and strangely warm.

“Heyy. What was that?” Vox tilted his head to you, an amused cast to his lips. When you didn’t answer his grin widened. “Did you just kiss me? In the middle of the movie?”

You tore your gaze from his, embarrassed. “Y-you said I could,” you protested, adding a belated, “sorry.”

“But kissing is usually a two-way thing,” said Vox, leaning in.

“I didn’t kiss your face,” you said, very factually.

“You didn’t,” agreed Vox, pushing a strand of hair back from your ear, the sharp edge of his talon tracing over sensitive skin. “So I won’t either.”

Vox leaned in, the bucket of popcorn chaperoning you threatening to topple as he drew his lips to your ear. The close proximity of his screen was enough to make your skin tingle, and you drew in a breath and held it, an uncomfortable pulse building between your legs as he took his time, breath hot over your neck and the shell of your ear. You didn’t dare tell him to hurry up, didn’t dare tell him to stop, not with how his mere proximity had you quivering, until at last you felt his lips, ghosting over your earlobe, teasing the soft flesh between them. Was it still a kiss, if his lips were now wrapped around a part of you, and sucking. Oh, Heavens. You bit back a noise, warmth pooling in your core as Vox’s tongue teased the circumference of your ear.

“Vox!” you squeaked, and he let you go, grinning.

“Try kissing my face next time. Or not, your choice.”

You went back to the movie, trying to tamp down the sinful thoughts that were spinning through your head. He didn’t deserve to be thought of lustfully like this. He was a really good guy- he was just trying to watch a movie with you and you were thinking lewd thoughts about him. You were an angel, for crying out loud: you were meant to be better than this!

His lips had felt so good, his tongue even better, a crackling spark that licked against your nerves. What would kissing his lips feel like? What would that tongue feel like, inside your mouth? Vox’s arm was back over your shoulders, his blue claws bright against the white of your blouse. You could touch his hand. Holding hands wasn’t sinful. People in Heaven held hands all the time. Hesitantly, you reached for his hand, your fingertips stroking from his wrist and over the back of his hand to his knuckles.

“You gonna kiss my hand next, babydoll?” asked Vox, his voice low and teasing.

“N-no,” you squeaked again, voice rising in pitch as your throat constricted.

Vox exhaled, glancing over at you, his thumb catching your exploring hand and stroking along your index finger. “Something the matter?”

Oh, all you could think about were the possibilities. Oh his lips on yours, his hand skating down over your shirt to encompass your breast. “I’m having sinful thoughts about you,” you confessed.

“Ohh?” Vox raised an eyebrow. “Lustful thoughts?”

Slowly, you nodded, shamefaced. “I’m really sorry. I know you’re just being a good host, and you don’t deserve me objectifying you…” you trailed off.

Vox just smiled. “I think I deserve to know exactly what lustful thoughts you were having, don’t you?”

“I was thinking about your fingers in my mouth,” you breathed out, though that was the least of your inner debauchery.

“Like this?” Vox asked, trailing blue talons up the side of your neck, over your jaw, and over your lips. You opened your mouth reflexively, and Vox slipped two fingers inside. Oh, fudge. Your eyes fluttered closed, a noise in your throat as Vox’s fingers explored, gentle as anything against the surface of your tongue, your cheek. “Were you thinking about them anywhere else?”

Face hot, you nodded, Vox’s fingers still inside your mouth, pulling at your lower lip slightly as he rocked his wrist back and forth.

“You gonna show me?” Vox asked, his voice still teasing, and with a shaking hand, you gestured to your own breasts, cupping them through the fabric of your blouse. The heat in your core was almost unbearable now, an embarrassing wetness pooling in the gusset of your panties.

“Get in my lap, babydoll,” said Vox, his voice soft as he withdrew his fingers from your mouth, a string of spittle trailing from your lower lip as he did. “I wanna do all the things you were fantasizing about me doing.”

Oh, you wanted this, you wanted this. So badly that it was a pulsing ache, an insistent drumbeat between your thighs. “Th-this is definitely sinful,” you said, hesitating.

Vox made no move to force you, sitting back a little on the couch. “Does it matter?” he asked, his tone going from sultry to playful again. “We’re both damned, after all.”

“R-right.” You swallowed, cursing yourself for your earlier lie. He waited, quiet, the movie playing forgotten on the big screen in front of you, until you moved the popcorn bucket to the floor and climbed onto his lap, your skirt bunching up around your knees as you straddled his legs.

“Well, heyy there beautiful,” growled Vox, looking at you, a finger pushing a strand of hair from your forehead, and you felt your face break into a smile. He crossed his legs, one over the other, so that his top thigh was flush with the gusset of your panties, smirking at you when his leg made contact. “Sitting comfortably?”

“Your leg… feels nice…” you managed, lamely, struggling for words. The pressure felt exquisite, the folds of your labia squashing together in a way that made you profoundly aware of the pulsing between your legs.

“Oh yeah?” Vox didn’t tease, and you were grateful. “You wanna stay like that? You maybe wanna rock back and forth a bit?” As if to demonstrate, he pushed his thigh up between your legs, against your gusset, and moved it side to side. You found yourself giving a soft whimper at the sensation. “It’s okay, baby,” said Vox, his voice soft and coaxing. “You can rub against me.”

You shouldn’t, you knew. You knew you should climb out of Vox’s lap, leave the feeling of his thigh between your legs behind, ignore the slick pooling in your panties. You should apologize for taking advantage of his generosity as a host, for even thinking about using his body in such a sordid way. You didn’t, though. Instead you canted your hips back, grinding your sex against the tensed muscle of his leg, finding warmth and friction and pleasure.

A shameful little whimper escaped your lips, and you felt Vox’s eyes on you, intent. “You don’t mind?”

Vox looked pleased with himself. “I invited you here, didn’t I?” He reached to your chest, tracing the lines you had traced when you had cupped your own breasts, the sensation of his claws through the fabric of your shirt leaving a tingling in its wake. You rocked your hips again, finding a slow rhythm, the sensations seeming to layer one atop the other, Vox’s talons moving up again, circling first one of your nipples and then the other, bringing each one to a sensitive point. “Do you wanna get them out for me?” he asked, voice low and gentle.

He withdrew his hands and your skin seemed to ache at the lack of him. “Will you touch them, if I do?” you asked, your voice small.

“If you ask me to,” said Vox, hands smoothing over the fabric of your skirt, over your thighs. “Otherwise if you want, I can enjoy the show. You want me to touch them, Ari?”

He used your name, not an epithet, his eyes on yours, and you felt the flush that bloomed on your cheeks, the flutter in your chest joining the pulse between your thighs as you continued to pleasure yourself on Vox’s thigh, each slow movement of your hips grinding the juices that soaked your panties into Vox’s slacks. Fingers trembling, you unbuttoned your blouse to your navel, then unhooked your bra, letting the straps fall from your shoulders, leaving your breasts exposed, nipples peeking over the lacy edge of your camisole. “Please,” you answered, feeling very exposed considering how little you were showing.

Vox pulled down the edge of your camisole with one talon, admiring his handiwork with a grin before his hands cupped your breasts, thumbs tracing soft circles around your namesake, your areolae. You made a noise in your throat, grinding hard against Vox’s thigh, and Vox gave an answering growl.

“Is that a good noise, babydoll?” Vox asked, gravel in his voice now. “You like having me squeeze your tits as you rub your pussy on my leg, huh?”

Shamefaced, you nodded, and Vox leaned in, a shift in his grip on your breasts pulling a moan from you. You froze, uncertain, as Vox lowered his wide rectangular head to your chest. As he had with your ear, he paused before his lips touched the skin, already tender and puckered from his fingers.

You whimpered, heat pooling in your core as you ground yourself wantonly against his leg, wet fabric against wet fabric, and Vox groaned, his breath hot over your breast. “Good girl,” he murmured, taking your nipple between his lips and sucking.

No amount of Heavenly chastity infomercials could have prepared you for how your next moments felt; Vox’s mouth first on one breast, then the other, the gentle tug of his teeth, the electrical lash of his tongue, all of that competing with the feel of him between your legs as you rode his thigh, your rhythm ascending from steady grind to desperate canter as sensation built and built. You found yourself pleading, losing rhythm as you jerked against Vox’s thigh, answering moans from Vox vibrating through your flesh as he suckled at you, your world narrowing to that scant handful of sensations. You cried out, feeling something inside you seize, and your eyes fluttered closed, your hips stilling.

“Vox,” you squeaked, uncertain.

“Heyy. Hey hey hey.” Vox lifted his face from your breasts, pulling your torso flush with his, his arms around you, his legs uncrossing. “I’ve got you.”

As before, his embrace was a comfort, and you found yourself pressing your body against his, your eyes squeezing shut. “There’s something inside me, it just twitched, it’s still-”

You felt Vox’s body tense against yours, and he tilted his screen to look at you, an error message flashing up that he hastily dismissed. “Sweetheart,” he said. “You, uh, you mean to tell me that you don’t know what an orgasm feels like?”

Your eyes snapped open, your core still throbbing. “That was an orgasm?”

“Well, uh, your heart rate spiked, and your pupils are dilated and your blood pressure is dropping now,” said Vox. “So yeah, seems likely.”

“I’ve never-” You sank against Vox, feeling weak.

“You’re making me feel like a real piece of shit, you know that?” Vox pressed his palm against your back, rubbing circles. “Your first orgasm and I didn’t even fuckin' kiss you first.”

“You could kiss me now,” you said, peering up at him, shy.

Vox gave a bark of laughter, a grin creeping back onto his face. “That a request, babydoll?”

His tongue in your mouth felt as good as you’d feared it might.

Click here to read the sequel

[echantedtoon]

DILF Eustass Kid Headcannons

Since there's a cannon concept design for Kid at both 40 n 60 years old I'm disappointed by the severe lack of writing for DILF Eustass Kid. So here's some from me.

*Despite being older he hasn't lost his attitude or spunk. Although compared to his younger self he is a bit more level headed now.

*extremely experienced with relationships. If you're uncomfortable or unsure about anything going into the relationship, he's very much willing to be patient and guide you through anything or give advice.

*speaking of advice, he's very good at giving advice on pretty much anything having already been through most things. Need to know what knife to use for stabbing? He's got you. Need help with difficult tax info? Scoot over and he'll help point out the best(way to evade them-) guy for the job. Want help choosing the best wood for a project? Oh he's an expert. Only thing he can't help you with is cooking. He's calling up Killer for that.

*SO domestic in a retired pirate, handyman way. Most likely you two are gonna be living on the Victoria Punk he converted into a giant house boat apartment thing for his crew and himself. He's always fixing things from the sink and shower to keeping up with the usual maintenance a ship needs. So it's not uncommon to see him mopping the deck or eyeing a loose board in the floor either.

*Personality pretty much stays the same. He's just as flirty, overprotective (if not more-), and stubborn as he always was twenty or thirty years ago.

*Spoils the every living heck outta you(Sugar Daddy-). Want a new purse? He's buying you the latest fashion. A necklace with a matching set of earrings? You're getting good days nights to that nice restaurant you wanted to go to.

*Ironically he'll sometimes say the stereotypical 'back in my day' line when annoyed at new generations of pirates. Don't point it out. He'll get very huffy and annoyed if you tease him about it. You'll be getting the silent treatment for the rest of the day.

*Ya both probably met by you hitting on him first. Probably won't admit it, but he's a little self conscious about the age gap and knows it's not the most normal relationship out there, but he still loves you.

*Annoyed with younger men try hitting on you and judging your relationship. Just because he's technically 'retired' doesn't mean he still won't take someone's life. They better pray that he doesn't hear anyone calling you a golddigger. If they do...Well they'd be lucky if they just end up with a giant hospital bill. Makes him a little more overprotective over you as a result.

*Melts if you kiss his scars and call him handsome. Helps boost his ego and eased his insecurities about the relationship.

*If y'all end up having kids he panicks less than if you had kids with a younger him. By now he's been through so much(jail, bloody fights, near death situations-) that it doesn't phase him too much. In fact he's probably more prepared after watching Killer and some of his own crew getting married and eventually having kids of their own.

*Don't ever call him a 'dilf'. He'll tease you endlessly and trying to insist on you calling him 'Pirate Daddy'. He's got no shame being called a dilf and if anything laughs from how flustered/embarrassed you get at him for teasing you about it.

[joelalorian]

beneath the silent boughs, whispers of danger flow

Frankie Morales x f!reader | WC: 5.8k | 18+ mdni | masterlist

Summary: An adventure planned to impress you goes sideways, leaving Frankie scrambling to get you both out alive.

Warnings: Cursing, danger, drugs, guns, injuries, and some good ol' outdoor sexy times (blow job and p eating). Established relationship. Set in Florida panhandle (so no mountains, unfortunately). Reader is a blank slate except for hair in a ponytail. No use of y/n.

A/N: Written for the Summer Lovin 2024 writing challenge created by @pedgito, @chaotic-mystery, and @amanitacowboy (thank you, lovelies!). I was given the above moodboard and the following prompts: Hiking, Frankie, and 'you always carry an extra pair?' I had a lot of fun with this, so thank you ladies (gn)! Also, thank you to @saradika-graphics for the dividers!

“I want to take you hiking.”

You stilled, head swiveling to stare at Frankie incredulously. “Hiking? Frankie, this is Florida. There’s no hiking here.”

Undeterred, he smiled until that enticing little dimple in his cheek came out to say hi. “Not Colorado level hiking like you’re used to, no. But we do have some hills and caves in the Panhandle that I want to show you. Have you ever been caving?”

“No, I’ve never been caving. I make it a rule to avoid bats, so caving is a hard pass,” you replied, scrunching your nose up in distaste, an expression Frankie found endearing.

Frankie stared up at you from his prone position on the bed while you fixed your hair. He could watch you for hours. “Oh, come on! You’ve hiked the Rockies with grizzlies and shit, but you’re telling me bats cross the line?”

A few short steps closed the distance between the vanity and the bed, and your fingers reached out to run through Frankie’s mop of messy curls. “We all have our limits, chulo. Besides, why are you so insistent on this?”

Shrugging, he sat up, one large hand grasping your wrist. Frankie placed a series of kisses along the soft, supple skin along the underside of your forearm. “I dunno. I just want to impress you, you know? Take you hiking somewhere you’ve never been before.” His free hand scrubbed at the back of his neck in that nervous tick of his. “I can’t afford to take you on fancy trips, so…”

Still in the early days of your relationship, Frankie labored under the impression that you needed to be wooed. Little did he know you fell for him the moment you laid eyes on him, the night your best friend introduced you to her boyfriend’s best friends. Classic friends to lovers trope, it took you both a while to fess up to the depth of your true feelings, but when you finally did…

Things were good, really good.

“Babe, you don’t need to take me on fancy trips. I don’t want you to take me on fancy trips, not unless it’s somewhere you really want to go,” you emphasized, your hands cradling his face. Placing a soft kiss on his pouty lips, the scruff of his beard tickling your chin, you continued, “I want us to do things together, share the burden together. If we want to travel, we’ll plan something together. Fancy’s not really my style anyway.”

When you pulled back, Frankie followed, his lips seeking yours once again. The kiss deepened as you sat on the bed, his tongue licking into your mouth and caressing yours with such finesse it set your soul on fire. You didn’t have time to follow through on the promise of that kiss, though.

“We have to get going or we’ll be late,” you reprimanded, easing back to your feet.

“I’m sure Benny would understand if we were late to his match,” Frankie pouted, his large hands trying so hard to grasp your hips and pull you back in. You dodged him with artful precision, using the defensive moves he taught you.

“Nuh uh, come on. I’ll let you take me hiking this weekend if you get your ass moving right now.”

After a five-hour road trip followed by a restful sleep in the cabin Frankie booked, you found yourself clinging to Frankie’s broad frame for warmth on a guided cave tour in the Florida Caverns State Park on Saturday morning. The temperature difference between the surface and the cave more than you bargained for, you’d freeze without your boyfriend’s arm around you or the long-sleeved shirt he pulled from his backpack.

The whole ride up from Tampa, you thought Frankie wanted to do the full-on spelunking experience, repelling down cave walls with helmets and belay lines, exploring crevices and shit. It turned out he just wanted to go on a guided walking tour of the caves – nothing crazy or dangerous. Thank goodness! You were adventurous, but not quite that much!

The stalagmites and stalactites were actually pretty cool, especially backlit as they were with thoughtfully placed lighting features chosen by the park staff, but you preferred to explore nature’s offerings aboveground. At least there were zero bat sightings!

“That wasn’t so bad, right?” Frankie asked once the tour concluded, and you were left to explore the surface of the park on your own or head back to the car. His arm still around your shoulders, the last of the lingering chill fading away, you smiled up at him.

“Nah, it was pretty cool, actually,” you admitted. Stripping off the extra layer, you handed it back to Frankie. “Thanks for this, babe.”

He beamed at that, tossing a fist in the air. “One point for me then!”

“Easy there, flyboy.” Patting his chest with a hearty laugh, you asked, “Where do we want to explore next?”

Glancing at his watch, Frankie hummed. “Let’s go check out Apalachicola National Forest - we saw it on the drive over. It’s huge and there are lots of less traveled trails to check out.”

“’Less traveled trails’ huh? You plan on murdering me and disposing my body off one of those trails?” You bumped your shoulder against his as you teased.

“Pssshhh, never,” he replied with a laugh, kissing your forehead as you climbed into his car. Once he settled in the driver’s seat, Frankie turned to you with a devilish grin. “I had other things in mind when considering which trails to explore.”

“Oh, really? Do tell.” He merely smirked at you.

The drive between the two areas went by quick, Frankie trying his best to one up you on hiking knowledge and bragging about rucking miles with a 50-pound rucksack in the military.

“Your skills are clearly legendary, chulo. My leisurely day hikes along the easiest trails in the Rockies have nothing on you.” Flashing him a teasing wink, you double knotted your hiking boots and grabbed your backpack, which likely weighed a tenth of what Frankie used to carry. Eyeing the pack he tossed over his shoulders, you asked, “How much does that one weigh, tough guy?”

“You tease now, la bronquinosa, but you never know if you’re gonna need something from this pack.” He shot a quick text off to Santi, letting him know where you two were headed just in case. Cell reception could be spotty in the area, he warned you on the ride up.

You followed Frankie toward the main trail marker, enjoying the view of his backside as you did. “That’s my Frankie, always the voice of reason.”

Despite the sun being near the midpoint of the sky, the forest canopy blocked most of the heat. Still, it was Florida, so you hiked in shorts and tee shirts to avoid overheating, skin slathered in sunblock and bug spray. You strolled in peaceful silence for a while, letting the sounds of nature wash over you as Frankie led the way with his innate sense of direction to the trail he wanted to check out.

You passed a few folks on the main trail, mostly couples or small families out exploring the shorter loop. As you progressed farther into the forest and off the main trail, it felt like you were the only two people amongst a sea of flora. Hiking and chatting about whatever came to mind turned out to be a great way to spend a Saturday with your handsome, rugged boyfriend.

After a while, he pulled you off the trail into a copse of trees along a small creek. A flat rock outcrop right next to the river marked the perfect place to take a break. Frankie dug the peanut butter and jelly sandwiches he made the day before out of his pack, handing one to you. The two of you sat on the rock and devoured the sandwiches and a bottle of water each as you enjoyed the serenity of the water babbling in the creek.

Once your stomachs were sated, Frankie leant over and kissed your neck in that spot that always set your senses on fire. Glancing around, you confirmed that no one traveling along the trail would see you before giving into the sensations.

“You’re giving me goosebumps, chulo,” you crooned, fingers knocking the cap from his head to run through his thick, curly locks.

Frankie continued his ministrations, nipping and sucking little love bites on your sensitive skin as he worked his way down your body. Before long, he was on his knees, working your shorts open and down your thighs with nimble fingers until they slipped to the ground. “Time for dessert, I think,” he said before pulling the gusset of you’re already soaked panties aside. His dark eyes soaked in the view of your glistening pussy for several long moments before diving into lap at your juices.

Back arching in pleasure, your hips slid forward on the rock, legs spread wide for Frankie. Mewls and moans left your lips, echoing off the trees as he worked your clit with his tongue, one thick finger dipping inside you.

“Fuck, Frankie,” you gasped when he hit that spongy bundle of nerves with the curl of his finger. Master at eating pussy that he was, Frankie had you coming, hard, in minutes, and he drank up every drop that leaked from you.

He sat back on his haunches after working you through it, mustache and chin scruff glistening with the evidence of a job well done as he grinned. “Mmm, that’s the best dessert a man could ask for.”

You grinned back at him, slinking from atop the rock to join him on the ground, hands already grabbing for the button of his shorts. “My turn.”

Without further ado, Frankie fell back on the ground, legs straightening as you eased his shorts down his slim hips. Mindful of the wilderness, you left his boxer briefs in place, one hand delicately extracting his hardened length from the hidden opening. Frankie had the most beautiful cock you’d ever seen – long and girthy, perfect upward curve and a prominent vein on the underside that just begged for you to lick it.

He watched you with those dark chocolate, baby cow eyes, pouty lips dropped open as you swiped the flat of your tongue along his entire length. Those beautiful eyes about rolled back in his head when your lips wrapped around the head of his cock, tongue tracing along the little slit in search of precum.

Sucking his cock into your mouth eagerly, you drew lewd moans and whimpers from Frankie. “Fuck, carino. You’re so good at this. You were made to suck my cock.” One large hand grasped your ponytail, wrapping the hair around his palm to direct your movements. His other hand clawed at the ground, fingernails scraping into the dirt.

On edge, Frankie pulled you back by the hair, giving you both a chance to catch your breath before the pressure of his hand forced your mouth back down onto his cock. You took him deep, the broad head hitting the back of your throat with each bob of your head. You loved the feel of nearly choking on him, knowing how much he fucking loved it.

At the gentle scrape of your teeth along his mushroom head, Frankie lost it. Thick ropes of cum hit your tongue as your mouth continued working him until he was a whimpering mess from the overstimulation.

It took a few minutes to recover, Frankie’s chest heaving as he caught his breath from the coming so mind-blowingly hard. You stood to find your shorts on to note the uncomfortable dampness of your panties. Frankie looked up from buttoning his own shorts at your groan.

“What’s wrong, carino?”

Your hips shifted awkwardly, trying to adjust to the feeling as you pulled your shirts up your legs. “My panties are uncomfortably wet,” you whined, shoulders slumped.

Head shaking, Frankie chuckled. “Don’t worry, I got you covered, hermosa.” Digging around in his pack, he pulled out a fresh pair of your panties.

Mouth dropping open, you just stared at him for a moment. “You always carry an extra pair of my underwear around with you?”

Frankie laughed as you snatched them from his hand. “I’ve learned the hard way to always be prepared, hermosa. I carry an extra pair of everything.”

“Fucking boy scout,” you muttered under your breath, yanking on the fresh panties followed by your shorts.

“No, hermosa, fucking Delta Force,” he replied with a cheeky wink.

Once you were both sufficiently put together again, he kissed you, teeth nipping at your bottom lip like it was a gummy worm. “Alright, hermosa, ready to keep going?” Frankie asked, scooping his hat from where you tossed it and placing it on his head.

You nodded, grasping his hand to lead the way back to the trail. A thin sheen of sweat from the recent activities covered your bodies as you walked. After a while, Frankie steered you off onto a trail that looked like it had barely ever been used. Vegetation grew in an arch over the limited path, leaving you feeling like an explorer traversing undiscovered land. You watched the ground carefully, trying to avoid tripping over exposed roots. So focused were you on the ground that you didn’t see the low hanging limb that Frankie ducked under in time.

“Ow! Fuck, that hurt!” you exclaimed when your forehead smacked into the unforgiving hardwood, nearly knocking you off your feet.

Startled at your exclamation, Frankie turned to find you ducking under the tree, hand hovering over a gash in your forehead. “Oh shit! Hermosa, let me see.” He eased your hand away, thick fingertips assessing the damage with tender touches.

“Does it look as bad as it feels?” you asked, voice pitched higher due to the pain.

“That tree branch gotcha pretty good,” Frankie admitted, slipping the pack from his shoulders. He kept talking as he dug through the pack for his trusty first aid kit. “It’s bleeding a lot, like head wounds do, but I don’t think you need stitches or anything.”

“Well thank fuck for that. It better not scar,” you grumbled, letting your boyfriend tend to your wound. His nose scrunched up, tongue poking out between his lips as he concentrated on tenderly cleaning the wound.

“There you go, almost good as new,” he said after placing a gentle kiss over the bandage he’d just secured over the gash.

“My hero,” you teased, fluttering your eyelashes at him.

Waving you off with a chuckle, Frankie hefted the pack over his shoulders and took your hand. “Want to call it a day or keep going? I’m good with whatever you want to do.”

You pretended to mull it over for a moment. “Let’s keep going. We didn’t come all this way just to hike for an hour.”

If only you knew how much you’d regret those words.

Deeper into the forest, you spotted a great horned owl perched in a live oak, eyes closed and blending in so well you almost missed it. The bird of prey only cracked an eye open when you stepped on particularly crunchy detritus trying to get closer. Frankie snapped a few pictures of the owl, along with a couple of snakes, ospreys, and even a bald eagle that you spotted on the hike.

At a small clearing, you stopped for a water break. Something off in the brush caught your eye when you bent to retie your shoe. Squinting, you needed confirmation from Frankie on what you were seeing.

“Babe, take a look at this,” you called him over to where you hunched down. “Look over there, just past the thick brush, in that patch of sunlight. Is that what I think it is?”

Frankie followed your line of sight, eyebrows raised. “If you’re thinking those are a couple of pot plants, then yes.”

Shooting him a mischievous look, you stepped closer to the hidden plants. “What in the world are they doing out here? There’s only a few. Maybe we should take a bit to enjoy back at the camp.”

Frankie stepped up behind you, shocked at your audacity. “Hermosa, I don’t think that’s a good idea. We don’t know who that belongs to. I can tell you right now, whoever it is, they are definitely the type of people we do not want to steal from.”

“Oh, please,” you waved him off, stepping through the underbrush until you closed in on the pot plants. “I’ll only grab a bit; they’ll hardly notice a few buds missing.”

“Fuck,” Frankie hissed, following when you didn’t stop at the first plant you reached. You snapped off a flower from a few plants, trying to be discreet and not just shred an entire plant. You noticed a few more plants and followed the narrow clearing between trees to reach them.

The pattern continued as curiosity took over, following the small patches until you stepped out of the protection of the trees into a larger clearing with far more plants and evidence of some kind of clandestine drug operation surrounding you. A rundown cabin sat to one side, windows covered from the inside and caked with dirt on the outside. A growing pile of trash peaked from behind it. The arid smell of ammonia hung in the air stinging Frankie’s lungs.

The sound of dogs barking sounded nearby, yet his scan of your surroundings didn’t locate them. He did, however, count two pickup trucks and a few all-terrain vehicles. This was very much not good. It only became worse when a couple of men exited the cabin, standing on the beaten down porch for an apparent cigarette break.

“Hermosa, we need to get the fuck out of here.” He tugged you down out of sight, slipping a hand over your mouth as you yelped. He didn’t smother the sound in time, and it drew the attention of the men. Frankie hurriedly dragged you by the hand back to the thick forest, shouts from the men echoing behind you.

Somehow, you both lost sight of the unmarked trail you came from. Hugging the tree line until Frankie found a spot to slip through the thicket, you looked over your shoulder. Your eyes widened as one of the men reached behind him, pulling a pistol out of the back of his pants.

“Oh no, that can’t be good,” you groaned, drawing Frankie’s attention as you turned around to hurry into the woods. He immediately clocked the guy with the gun, running across the clearing, as the other men started up the ATVs, engines roaring to life.

“We need to move!” Frankie’s voice pitched deeper than usual, urgency taking over as gunshots rang in the air, pulling you deeper into the thicket. One hand dug in his pack, removing a Glock 9mm from a hidden pocket. He let go of your hand for a moment to check the clip and pull back the slide, humming in satisfaction once it was locked and loaded.

You just followed numbly, doe-eyed and head aching from the gash, panic already setting in. “Are those guys gonna come after us?” you squeaked.

“Most likely,” Frankie replied, mind whirling. He didn’t want to scare you, but you needed to know the truth. “We weren’t meant to find that place. It smelled like a meth lab; did you notice that? We need to hoof it, find somewhere to lay low while I come up with a plan.”

The two of you raced through the woods, relying on Frankie’s innate sense of direction and his memory of geological features you passed during your hike. You breathed a sigh of temporary relief that the barely-there path you followed was in no way wide enough for the ATVs, the engine sounds growing distant.

“Come on, hermosa. We need to keep moving, but I also need to check the phone for a signal. Can you dig it out of the front pocket of my bag without stopping?” Frankie’s demeaner remained calm, collected as you practically fell apart.

“S-sure,” you replied, voice as shaky as your trembling hands. With awkward, jerky movements, you managed to unzip and remove Frankie’s cell phone from the pack while keeping up with his rushed movement through the forest. Powering the phone on, you waited as it searched for a signal.

Two bars… that had to be enough, right?

“Here, there’s not much signal.” You handed the phone to Frankie and watched as he quickly pulled up Santi’s contact.

Your fingers crossed until the call went through. Frankie spoke frantically into the phone once Santi answered, but you couldn’t decipher what he said. The sound of your own breathing and pounding heart echoed in your ears, drowning out everything else. You don’t know how long they talked – it could have been minutes or hours – but you watched the tension in Frankie’s shoulders ease ever so slightly when he ended the call.

“The boys aren’t far. They were headed up here already, jealous of the adventure we’re on or some shit,” Frankie explained, still maintaining a hurried pace back toward the main trail. “Santi’s gonna call the cops, tell ‘em what we saw. I gotta send him coordinates.”

At last, Frankie slowed to a stop, eyes searching the sea of trees in every direction, trying to figure out where to go as his fingers worked his phone, sending a text to Santi with approximate coordinates based on your current location.

“What are we gonna do?” you asked, a chill washing over you despite the searing heat of the day. Your arms wrapped around yourself, seeking comfort any way you could find it.

Glancing up once the text went through, Frankie took in your obvious panic. “Hermosa, baby, it’s ok. We’re gonna be ok. I just have to find us somewhere to lay low for a bit until the boys or the authorities get here.”

He’d kill for a topographical map right then.

“Let’s head back for that creek where we… you know. We’ll need to get creative to stay out of sight in case any of those guys are tracking us. Okay, hermosa?”

You nodded; bottom lip squished between your teeth to keep it from wobbling. “I’ll do whatever you tell me, babe.”

“That’s my good girl,” Frankie smiled then, lightening the mood for a moment. Grasping your hand, he set off again, paced hurried but still manageable on the uneven path. The last thing he needed was for you to roll an ankle tripping over an exposed root as you ran through the forest.

The ATV engines rumbled in the background, reminding you both that the bad men were still out there, searching for you. Time became this weird, liminal thing as Frankie led you through the forest, never stopping until he spotted rocky outcrops, the stream from earlier visible beyond.

“Time to get creative. You ready?” His hands came up to frame your face, dark eyes searching your own. At your nod, Frankie leant in, pressing his lips to yours in a tender kiss, thumbs stroking your cheeks. Pulling back, his eyes never left yours. “I love you; did you know that? I think I loved you from the moment we met.”

Flummoxed, you giggled, brows raised in shock. “And this is the moment you choose to tell me?”

“Well, yeah,” he mumbled, chagrined. One hand dropped from your face to swipe at the back of his neck. “I…”

“I love you, too, Frankie. Always have, always will. Just, please, get me out of here alive.” You pressed your lips to his, tongue slipping into his mouth to tangle with his for a moment. It might have been a weird time to exchange the L-word, but it served to lessen your panic. You could so easily lose yourself in the moment, if not for the sound of the ATVs. Were they getting closer?

“I won’t let anything happen to you, hermosa. Not now, not ever.”

You followed Frankie down to the stream and watched as he dipped his hands into the water, scooping up some of the sediment with his fingers. He beckoned you to crouch next to him. Once you did, he swiped his fingers across your cheeks, leaving dark swatches of clay-like sediment to dry on your skin. Continuing the movements, he covers portions of your exposed skin and even swipes some over your clothing. Satisfied, he turned to do the same to his own skin and clothes until you both looked ready for war.

“Camouflage?” you inquired, finally understanding.

Frankie nodded. “Exactly. We’re gonna hunker down over there,” he pointed to a particular outcrop with a large indent in the soil on one side of it. “This will just help us blend in.” Before leading you over to the boulder, he swiped some more mud over both of your clothes for good measure, trying to dull the brightness of the fabric.

Clearing out some additional space beneath the boulder, Frankie guided you into the spot, sliding in next to you. Once in place, he covered you both with any foliage he could reach. “We need to stay quiet now, ok? Just hang out until we hear from the guys, or the other dudes get close.”

You nodded, tucking your head into the crook of Frankie’s neck. Breathing in the musky scent of him calmed your anxiety, anchoring you down from the overwhelming fear threatening to cloud your senses.

“I’ll keep you safe, hermosa. I swear. Te amo,” Frankie whispered against your hair, one muscular arm flung over you, drawing you in tighter to his body.

Time crawled, just like your skin at the thought of bugs crawling over you. You fought the urge to fidget, to scratch at the skin of your legs. The sun dipped in the skin, the light of day fading. At long last, the phone buzzed in Frankie’s pocket and he carefully, quietly extracted it. A text from Santi letting you know the guys arrived and were spreading out to search the forest for you. Frankie sent updated coordinates for your current location, and you silently prayed that they’d find you before the bad guys.

You counted to sixty in your head ten times before the first sound of nearby movement startled you. “Shhh,” Frankie purred in your ear, his right hand slowly, subtly moving toward his waistline to grasp the Glock. His left hand typed a quick, cryptic message to Santi, an answering buzz coming almost immediately.

“Fuck,” he hissed at the message as the sound of crunching leaves and cracking twigs grew closer, louder. It wasn’t Santi, Ben, or Will making the noise. He could only hope it was a large animal, but Frankie knew deep down that it wasn’t. “Hermosa, we’re gonna have to move.”

“Why?” you breathed, panic rising once again.

“That’s not our guys, making that racket,” Frankie whispered. “When I say go, you need to run. Go through the creek, get to the other side and follow the water as long as you can. I’ll catch up to you.”

“What? No! I’m not leaving you!” you whispered harshly, head shaking imperceptibly.

“Sshhh, you have to. Trust me, please? I love you. This is me making sure nothing happens to you.”

You wanted to argue, the words right there on the tip of your tongue, but Frankie’s beautiful, dark umber eyes pleaded with you to listen, to do what he said. There was an unexpected hint of fear in his eyes, something you never thought you’d see. It went against every fiber in your being, but you nodded. You would do what he said, run until you couldn’t anymore and just hope that he stayed right behind you.

Pressing a kiss to the top of your head, Frankie eased up, peeking over the outcrop in the direction the noises were coming from. Two men – ones he saw back at that cabin – scanned the woods, searching for the two of you. He ducked back down, helping you to a squat position.

“It’s now or never, hermosa. Remember what I said, through the creek to the other side and follow the water. Just be careful – it’s getting darker as the sun sets. I’ll be right behind you.”

“I love you, Frankie. Please don’t do anything stupid.” Part of you ached to stay with him, to face the danger head on together. But you knew you couldn’t.

“I love you. Go. Now!” He shot to his feet; pistol raised to cover you.

Heart pounding in your chest, so hard you felt it in your throat, you stumbled to your feet and ran. Your hiking boots splashed through the calf-deep water of the creek before you scrambled up the other bank. Gun shots pierced the air, and you swore a bullet whizzed past your head.

“Fuck!” you screamed, running full tilt through the trees, staying close to the stream but using the forest for cover. Deep voiced shouts echoed behind you, more gunfire. A stitch ached in your side, still you ran. You tripped over roots, falling to the ground as the sky grew darker. Still, you ran. Even your head bouncing off a rock following one particularly hard fall didn’t stop you from scrambling back to your feet. You ran and ran and ran.

Feet carried you as far as your lungs allowed before you fell again, gasping for breath, body tucked behind a large live oak, hoping against hope that the trunk hid you from view. Entire body trembling from the adrenaline, an eardrum piercing scream burst from your lips when a hand reached out from around the tree, grabbing your shoulder.

Fighting with the little strength left in your body, you kicked and clawed at the owner of the hand, struggling as hard as you could to get away. In the heat of the moment, you forgot every tactic Frankie taught you.

“Sshhhh, it’s okay, hermanita. It’s just me.” A voice you recognized broke through the panic and all the fight left your body at once. You sank against Santi’s strong body, forcing him to hold you upright. “It’s okay. It’s okay.”

“Santi,” you cried, tears flowing down your cheeks in relief. “Frankie… he needs—”

“The boys are backing him up, he’s okay. Come on, I gotta get you to safety or your boyfriend will shoot me himself.” Santiago guided you around and over some obstacles, leading you back to Frankie’s car.

By the time you got there, a park ranger and county sheriff’s deputy were waiting, along with an ambulance. You frantically searched the parking area for signs of Frankie or the Miller brothers, but there were none. You met Santi’s gaze with pleading eyes, begging him to find Frankie.

“Let the medics check you out, hermanita. I’ll figure out where the others are.” He handed you off to the medics, instructing them to treat you with care or face the consequences before he turned to speak with law enforcement.

The cut on your forehead reopened when you fell while running, the pain just hitting you now that you were truly safe, and the adrenaline drained away. The rest was a blur, getting treated by the medics, speaking with the park ranger and deputy. All of it a haze, until Frankie appeared from the trail, supported by Benny and Will.

“Why are you covered in blood?” you blurted once they brought Frankie close enough. Still covered in the natural camouflage from the stream, he looked a wreck. Frankie’s beloved ballcap gone, hair awry and threaded with leaves, abrasions marring his handsome face, blood soaking through the right side of his shirt. “Were you shot?”

Feeling like a marionette, you allowed Santi to guide you out of the way as the medics tended to Frankie. Your eyes never left his while the medics triaged his injuries before loading him into the back of the ambulance.

“Go with him, we’ll meet you there,” Santi urged, gently pushing you forward. He helped you climb up to sit next to Frankie’s stretcher, smiling encouragingly as he closed the doors.

Thirty-six hours later, you and the boys were on your way home. You spent much of that time at Frankie’s bedside, refusing to leave. DEA agents resorted to interviewing you and Frankie in his hospital room as you adamantly refused to meet them anywhere else.

Apparently, you and Frankie happened upon a well-established meth operation. The pot plants that drew you in were the least of what the agents found upon raiding the camp. Frankie and the boys subdued two of the drug traffickers before Frankie suffered a hit from a third man who snuck up on their six. The agents and sheriff’s department took care of the rest. With all that the authorities found, they doubted they’d need either of you to testify, but the agents told you they’d be in touch if necessary.

You doted on Frankie, holding him close in the backseat of his truck while Santi drove. Benny and Will following behind you in Will’s car. Fingers threaded through his hair in soothing strokes as he laid across the seat with his head in your lap. The wound still fresh, it hurt him too much to sit up for the five-hour drive home.

“You know what, chulo?” you asked quietly, bending forward to tilt your head over Frankie’s.

“Hmmm?” he gazed up at you, nearly purring in contentment as you scratched your nails against his scalp in slow, tender motions.

“I still have all those buds I nicked,” you grinned mischievously. “We’ll make edibles next weekend. How does that sound?”

Frankie stared up at you with those big cow eyes, a soft smile curling his lips. “I’m gonna marry you. Whenever you’re ready, Imma ask you to marry me. You’re the bravest, most beautiful woman I’ve ever known. I gotta make you my wife before someone else steals you away.”

Words a bit slurred from the pain medication flowing through his veins, you gazed at him with such love in your soul. “I love you so much, you stupid, brave man, but I think you’re letting the pain meds do the talking for you.”

“Hey now! I’m injured. I got shot making sure you got to safety, you can’t call me stupid.” He pouted like a child, looking impossibly adorable with his wild curls like a halo around his head. “And it’s not the pain meds talkin’. I’ve always wanted to marry you, right from the moment you smiled at me.”

Rolling your eyes affectionately, you shushed him. Your gaze met Santi’s in the rearview mirror, his face lit up with amusement at the two of you. Shifting your gaze back to Frankie’s, you flashed him that smile that first charmed him. “Ok, chulo. I want to marry you, too. Whenever you’re ready.”

“Hey, Pope! Mind stoppin’ by a jewelry store on the way home?” Frankie asked sleepily, eyes already slipping closed. “I gotta get my girl a ring.”

fin

[agirlnamedelia]

Clean Slate

As part of the cleaning regiment, you’re assigned to help Levi with maintaining the underground headquarters. Levi, known for his strict cleanliness standards, is surprised to find you have an equally strong dedication to keeping things spotless. Over time, the two of you bond over the shared responsibility, leading to quiet but meaningful moments. One day, you fall ill, and Levi shows a softer side, caring for you and ensuring you get better, revealing his deeper feelings.

The sound of scrubbing echoed through the underground headquarters as you diligently worked on polishing the floors. Levi, ever the perfectionist, was beside you, his eyes sharp as he inspected every corner. He barely spoke, his focus entirely on maintaining the spotless environment that he demanded.

“Missed a spot,” he commented, pointing to a corner you had just finished.

You bit back a sigh, knowing better than to argue. “I’ll get it,” you replied, grabbing the cloth again.

Levi watched you as you went over the area with renewed vigor. He was surprised by your dedication—most people would have grumbled or given up by now. But you matched his standards, and he found himself respecting you for it.

“You’re pretty meticulous,” he remarked after a while, breaking the usual silence.

“Someone’s got to keep up with you,” you shot back with a small smile. “Besides, it’s kind of satisfying to see everything so clean.”

Levi nodded, almost imperceptibly. “It is.”

Days turned into weeks, and you and Levi fell into a routine. There was something comforting about the quiet moments you shared, working side by side to keep the headquarters in pristine condition. Conversations were rare, but they didn’t need to be frequent; you both understood each other through your actions.

One evening, after a particularly long day, you noticed Levi lingering after you’d finished your tasks. “Levi, is something wrong?” you asked, wiping your hands on your apron.

He shook his head. “No, just… you’ve been doing a good job. Better than most.”

You blinked, surprised by the compliment. “Thanks. That means a lot coming from you.”

He nodded again, then turned to leave, but not before casting one last glance your way. You could feel the warmth in your chest, a connection growing stronger with every passing day.

The next morning, you woke up feeling off. Your head throbbed, and your body ached. Despite this, you forced yourself out of bed, determined to get your work done. You knew Levi wouldn’t tolerate any slacking, and you didn’t want to disappoint him.

But as you stumbled into the cleaning supplies room, Levi was already there, his sharp eyes narrowing as he took in your pale complexion. “What the hell are you doing?” he asked, his tone harsher than usual.

“Cleaning,” you replied weakly, reaching for a mop.

“Like that?” He stepped closer, frowning. “You’re sick.”

“I’m fine,” you protested, though the wobble in your voice betrayed you.

Levi’s scowl deepened, and before you could react, he grabbed your wrist, pulling you toward the nearest chair. “Sit. You’re not doing anything until you’re better.”

“Levi, I can still—”

“Shut up,” he snapped, though there was a rare softness in his eyes. “You’re not fine, and I’m not letting you make it worse.”

You blinked, stunned by his concern. Levi wasn’t one to coddle anyone, let alone show this level of care. But here he was, his hands gentle as he guided you to sit down.

“Stay here,” he ordered, his voice leaving no room for argument. “I’ll get something for your fever.”

You didn’t protest, feeling too weak to argue. As he left the room, you leaned back, closing your eyes. The pounding in your head made it hard to think, but one thing was clear—Levi was worried about you, and that realization sent a strange warmth through your chest.

Levi returned with a damp cloth and some medicine. He handed you the medicine first, watching closely as you swallowed it. Then, he carefully placed the cloth on your forehead, his touch surprisingly tender.

“Why are you…?” you started, but he cut you off with a stern look.

“Because I’m not an idiot,” he replied curtly. “And I’m not going to let you push yourself into a worse condition. You’re important here.”

The words hung in the air, and you couldn’t help but smile despite your discomfort. “Thank you, Levi.”

He grunted in response, but you could see the faintest hint of a blush on his cheeks. “Just get better, alright? I can’t keep this place spotless on my own.”

You chuckled, which quickly turned into a cough. Levi’s expression softened further as he adjusted the cloth on your forehead. “Rest,” he commanded. “That’s an order.”

You nodded, too tired to argue. As you closed your eyes, you felt Levi’s hand brush against yours, his touch lingering for a moment longer than necessary. It was a simple gesture, but it spoke volumes.

==

Over the next few days, Levi kept a close eye on you, ensuring you had everything you needed to recover. He didn’t say much, but his actions were enough to convey what words couldn’t. And when you finally started to feel better, he was the first to notice, his relief almost palpable.

“Good to see you up and about,” he remarked one morning as you joined him in the cleaning supplies room.

“Good to be back,” you replied with a smile. “Thanks for taking care of me.”

Levi shrugged, trying to act nonchalant. “Don’t mention it.”

But as you resumed your duties, there was a newfound closeness between you, a bond forged in quiet moments and shared responsibilities. And though Levi never said it outright, you knew that he cared for you in a way that went beyond mere teamwork. In his own subtle way, he had shown you just how much you meant to him, and that was more than enough.

[thegatesofsilverandbone]

Ryan was a typical high school freshman: lean, a bit awkward, and enthusiastic about video games. He spent most of his free time glued to his console, escaping the mundane routines of school life. One Friday afternoon, he discovered a new game in his favorite gaming store, an unnamed title that seemed to call to him from the shelf. The cover depicted a powerful warrior standing against a backdrop of a fantastical cityscape, similar to the one that hung in Ryan's living room.

Eager to dive into the unknown, Ryan rushed home, tore off the wrapping, and popped the game into his console. As the game booted up, the screen flashed brightly, and a deep, resonant voice echoed from the speakers: "Prepare to transform, champion." Ryan shrugged off the odd introduction, attributing it to the game's immersive narrative.

He started playing, navigating his character through a series of intense challenges. Each level was more demanding than the last, requiring not just quick reflexes but also strategic thinking. Hours passed in what felt like minutes. As he played, Ryan felt an unusual warmth spread through his body, which he initially dismissed as excitement.

Gradually, his physical transformation began. His fingers, once nimble and quick, started to thicken, veins becoming more pronounced under his skin. He noticed a tingling sensation in his arms, which soon gave way to a burning ache. Glancing down, he was shocked to see his forearms bulking up, muscles rippling under the skin. Dark hair began to sprout, covering his arms in a dense layer.

"What the...?" Ryan muttered, his voice cracking. The words barely left his mouth when he felt a tightening in his chest. His shoulders broadened, the fabric of his t-shirt stretching taut before finally giving way with a series of soft ripping sounds. His chest expanded, each breath he took filling his lungs with more power. Hair sprouted from his previously smooth chest, a thick mat of dark curls spreading down to his stomach.

He paused the game, staring at his reflection in the darkened screen of his TV. His face, once boyish and smooth, was now more chiseled. A shadow of stubble appeared on his jawline, quickly growing into a full, rugged beard. His cheekbones were more defined, and his eyes, once wide with the innocence of youth, now held a mature, intense gaze.

Ryan’s attention snapped back to the game as it resumed on its own. He tried to stand up but found himself pulled back into the couch by an invisible force. The game seemed to be taking control, guiding his transformation. He felt his legs stretching, his jeans straining as his thighs thickened with muscle. His feet grew larger, bursting out of his sneakers, now better suited to his new, larger frame.

His abdomen contracted, then expanded, a solid six-pack forming under the layer of hair. His entire torso seemed to grow, his back muscles tightening and expanding, giving him a powerful, commanding presence. He could feel his biceps and triceps bulking up, his hands growing calloused and strong.

As the game reached its final level, Ryan felt the transformation completing. His once slender neck was now thick and powerful, supporting a head that was both familiar and unrecognizable. His voice, when he finally spoke again, was deep and resonant, a stark contrast to his previous adolescent tones.

"Champion, you are ready," the game’s voice intoned one last time before the screen went dark.

Ryan, now a man, sat in stunned silence, absorbing the enormity of what had just happened. His head was covered with a thick mop of dark hair, and his face bore a full, neatly styled beard. Tattoos adorned his muscular arms, marking him as someone who had lived many lives, seen many battles.

He stood up, feeling the weight and power of his new body. His jeans hung low on his hips, revealing the waistband of his underwear, barely containing his muscular thighs. He was no longer the awkward freshman but a confident, powerful man.

Ryan walked to the mirror, taking in the full scope of his transformation. He was taller, broader, and exuded an aura of strength and confidence. His chest and abs were a solid wall of muscle, covered in a thick mat of hair. His arms were powerful, his legs like tree trunks, and he moved with the grace and power of a seasoned warrior.

As he stared at his reflection, a slow smile spread across his face. The game had promised transformation, and it had delivered beyond his wildest dreams. He was no longer just a boy; he was a champion.

[theferricfox]

Here's a cute little drabble for Momma Kuchel's birthday. I don't even know how I managed to punch this out so fast considering I've had so much writer's block lately that I could build a damned house with it.

“Hey, Ma?”

“Yes, darling?” Kuchel responds from the small bathroom adjoining their room. She brushes out her long, dark hair with an old horse-hair brush – the handle crumbling into splinters.

Levi sits on the edge of the bed, his chubby little legs dangling over the edge. He rocks them back and forth, leaning back to balance himself on the flat of his palms. He looks pensive – so serious for so small a face that it’s laughably adorable – as he watches his mother sort out her tangles. 

“When’s your birthday, Ma?” Levi asks.

Kuchel pauses and sets down her hairbrush. She turns and walks to her son, kneeling on the half-rotten floor so she can be near eye-level with him.

“Why do you ask, angel?” she cups his cheeks and playfully squeezes, making giggles erupt from his lips.

“Well, we celebwate my birfday,” Levi says through the squish she’s made in his face. “But we neveh celebwate yoahs.”

Kuchel smiles softly and stands, picking him up along the way. She sways, humming a song as she thinks. She remembers that she was born in spring, but days bleed together down here. She wouldn’t know when the first of the month was if she didn’t get harassed to pay her room fee.

“Well,” she sings with a smile. “I am pretty sure it’s today.”

“Today?!” Levi nearly jumps from her arms at the news. “We gotta get you a sweet!”

Levi wriggles in her grasp eagerly.

“Down! Down!” he calls out. 

When she sets him down, Levi rushes to the door of their room, standing on the very tips of his toes to pull at the handle.

“Levi, where are you going?” Kuchel chuckles as she pulls open the door and watches him shoot down the hallway, his bare feet slapping against the wood of the hallway.

“I’m gonna get you a sweet!” he calls back, halfway down the hall.

“Not without your shoes, mister man!” she calls back. 

When Levi turns, she bends down to pick his shoes up and dangle them in front of her. He rushes back, twisting his feet into the tattered shoes as she slips her own on and stuffs a small wad of bills into her bra. The pair ready to go, Levi tugs on his mother’s dress.

“C’mon c’mon!”

Kuchel lets Levi lead her out and into the street, and although he clambers clumsily over the deep wheel tracks in the dirt roads, he resists being picked up and carried, wanting instead to guide her to the market. She has to gently remind him of the next turn a time or two, and when they arrive at the market street, he darts forward, his destination apparently firmly in mind. 

She follows him to a small bakery stall where they usually buy their bread. 

“Miss Caroleeeene!” Levi shouts, holding onto the table of the stall. His mop of black hair barely peeks over the edge, despite him standing on the tips of his toes.

“Caroline, darlin’,” Kuchel corrects gently as she approaches.

“Miss Caroleene,” Levi says, ignoring his mother. “I need a sweet please!”

Caroline, with bright golden hair and brilliant green eyes, leans over to smile at Levi.

“Well, hello, Levi dear. You need a sweet you say?”

“Yeah! It’s Ma’s birthday! I need a sweet to surprise her with!” Levi says eagerly, seemingly heedless of the meaning of a surprise.

“Well, that is a cause for celebration!” Caroline says warmly. “I just so happen to have this little cake that I think has your Momma’s name on it!”

Caroline leans over the counter to Kuchel and says, “I couldn’t get any milk, but I did get some eggs. Sugar’s kind of scarce right now too, so it’s not very sweet, hun.”

Kuchel waves her off and smiles.

“It’s no problem.”

“Ma!” Levi shouts. Kuchel sees him holding up one tiny hand, palm up. “Can I borrow some money real quick?”

Kuchel laughs and pulls a few bills out and hands them to Levi. He spins around and hands the bills to Caroline. The baker adds a few rolls of bread to the bag with the cake, takes the money and gives most of it back to Levi.

“That’s your change, darlin,” Caroline says. When Kuchel looks up at her with questioning look, she winks and says, “Happy birthday, Kuchel.”

Kuchel can’t help the small tears that come to the edges of her eyes as Levi spins around, money in hands and says, “That’s your change, Ma!” She whispers a quiet thank you to Caroline as Levi takes the bag and starts back to their room.

“What’s in the bag, honey?” Kuchel asks, playing along with Levi’s game from the stall.

“It’s a secret surprise!” Levi declares, hugging the bag close. 

“Okay, then,” she says with a laugh.

She watches as Levi navigates them most of the way back to their room by himself, needing a gentle push in the right direction only once. Once back indoors, he scuttles down the hallway, calling behind him excitedly.

“Ma! Ma come quick I have a secret surprise for you!”

“I’m coming, angel!” she calls back. She tries to ignore sounds of moans, cries, and creaking beds from the other rooms as she passes by them on the way to her own.

Once back in their room and their shoes off, Levi urges Kuchel to sit on the floor with him, where he has already pulled out the small crate they use as a table, the bag sitting next to it. She does, a smile pasted onto her lips.

“Happy birthday, Ma! Happy happy birthday Ma!” Levi sings. He digs into the bag and places the small cake – the appearance of which resembles a large cracker more than a cake, onto the small cloth that serves as a plate. “Ta-da! Surprise I got you a sweet!”

Kuchel reaches over and pulls Levi into her lap, showering his face in kisses.

“Oh, thank you, my darling. What a wonderful birthday surprise you’ve given me.” She holds him close, tears in her eyes. “I have the very best son in the world.”

Levi squirms in her arms, reaches down and picks a piece off the cake and holds it against her lips.

“You gotta make a wish when you eat it okay?” Levi says, suddenly very serious. “And you gotta wish really hard or it won’t come true.”

Kuchel makes a show of closing her eyes and scrunching her face up, thinking of a wish before she opens her mouth wide and grabs Levi’s whole hand in a big, playful bite. The act makes him squeal in surprise and they fall into a fit of giggles as they finish off the cake together.

“What did you wish for, Ma?” Levi asks as he licks crumbs from his fingers.

“Now, that’s a secret just for me,” Kuchel whispers into another hug.

I wish for my boy to live long and in the light.

[queersatanic]

heyo! what can i, a teen in a really boring wealthy neighborhood with no queer community, do to combat fascism/make people aware of how wasteful and bigoted they are/generally fuck things up?

thanks so much!!

Before we get into the meat of your question, one thing we're hearing from this ask that you're going to want to keep an eye on is the idea that you know more than other people and need to educate people from a place of superiority over them. This is something that liberals do quite a lot, and while there's not a lot of reason to be sympathetic to reactionaries, something they are justified in responding negatively to is the patronizing idea that they just lack awareness of how wasteful or bigoted they are (in reality, they have a different set of values, and those values lead them to reasonable, but harmful, ends).

That is not the main point of your ask or this answer, but just watch in yourself the urge to view your self as better than others, speaking down to them.

OK, to the main point of your ask: A really important first step is going to be honestly evaluating the level of risk you're willing to take.

If you are a teenager in a wealthy family, this is probably the time when you are least likely to be meaningfully punished for, for example, breaking laws. However, there will may still be consequences for you that you don't like. Do you have parental support? Do you rely on them for your finances, or do you have some independent income? What is your support network like in general in case you make some of your peers or authority figures upset with you? Etc.

So that's the first thing: think about what sort of consequences you are currently prepared to deal with, with the understanding that may change later for you.

To give you one example: graffiti is great. The one that will probably get you in the most trouble but has some of the highest utility is spraypainting. Of course, if you don't already have artistic hobbies, it may be obvious if you go out and buy a bunch of spraypaint cans then tags start showing up all over your neighborhood, and this might be something you want to keep in mind. But there's also slap stickers, mop markers, wheatpasting. Actually, @crimethinc has a few guides on this already.

That's one example of an area that you can start doing things in with minimal resources and without needing a large group of people. It allows you to get started, which is the important thing. You are transformed by your practices much more than your plans for future practices, and you'll learn lots of things with real understanding that you only learned about from reading or hearing someone else talk about it.

But you do probably want to do things with other people, and most of them will be initially constrained by legality, so start talking to your peers if you aren't already. Don't lead with, "Hey, do you want to do illegal things together?" (and again, that may not be what you're ready for now, anyway). However, you do need to find other people who are interested in the same sorts of things that you are, and face-to-face conversations are the best way to go about this whenever possible.

You said you're a teen, so the assumption is that you're in school. If so, is there an issue on your campus that lots of your fellow students have a grievance against? Can you organize against that?

For example, is there a tardy policy that people feel is unfair? Can you work toward a collective protest by making everyone be tardy to class for a period, a whole day, a whole week, to overwhelm the system? Does the school have rules that are queerphobic? Is there a perhaps smaller group of people who care about that who can organize a walkout?

If you're out of school and at a job, do you have a union there? Do you have a groupchat that excludes management in order to complain about scheduling or unsafe duties or wage theft? Since it sounds like you still live at home, you're probably more willing to take risks at work than people who rely on jobs to pay rent and avoid eviction, but you likely share some concerns in common you can act on.

You're going to best know the issues local to you, but it's a place to start and get people in the practice of self-organizing and acting directly against hierarchical power.

In doing that, you're going to find other people who are perhaps willing to do illegal acts like graffiti with you. Or who have completely different skills and interests, for example cooking. Meals are a good way to bring people together and bond, and can also be extended to others who need it. By getting to know someone who knows how to cook, you can learn skills that help you later, like starting a local "Food Not Bombs" group for folks who would otherwise miss meals.

There's a lot of things that you can do, can do yourself, and can organize with others directly. It is not easy, but it's often very fun, and it will give you skills you can use later in life, as well as open the imagination of lots of other people about what can be done and how.

CrimethInc again has lots of other resources that you may want to become familiar with:

("Theory" and "praxis" aren't really in tension with one another. You read things other people have done to take advantage of their mistakes and experiences, but you still have to go out and do things yourself to really understand it for your situations and yourself.)

[xythlia]

𓏲 ࣪₊ ᴍɪꜱᴄᴏɴᴅᴜᴄᴛ

♡⃕ ࣪ nsfw content. minors do not interact, dark content ⸝⸝ fem reader, teacher/student, power imbalance, humiliation, oral (m receiving), abuse of power, swallowing, face fucking, masturbation

♡⃕ ࣪ word count : 1k+

a/n | i feel like i haven't written anything in a long time but since it's my birthday + luci's i feel inspired, im sorry i was in my dryspell era >.< this might be a lil rusty but hope you like it

feedback ⸝⸝ rbs are appreciated ♡

The tip of your nail swipes back and forth across your bottom lip. This last exam had been bad, beyond bad truly it crossed into breakdown territory the second he handed it to you face down. Only you. Shame had run hot beneath your skin, eyes scanning the page that looked so doused in red corrective ink it may as well have been used to mop up blood.

This would absolutely tank your average if you couldn't find a way to fix it, so you found yourself seated anxiously outside Lucifer's office, leg bouncing and trying not to cry before you even sat across from him.

Your bag almost goes flying from your lap, nearly vomiting its contents as you shoot up the moment that heavy oaken door swings open. He doesn't even get a word out before you're sweeping inside, shaking his head as he clicks the door shut and you feel fresh anxiety knowing he's sizing you up.

"Please there has to be some way to fix-"

"Save it," he says flatly. "That exam was a mess, did you even attempt to skim the text?"

You can feel yourself sweating, skin prickling as you try to keep your voice level and not betray the fact that your heart was beating out of your chest.

"I did read it, is there any way I could retake the exam? I know my grades in that class aren't the best but I do make an effort." Thankfully you at least sounded less anxious than you felt.

"I told everyone at the very beginning I don't allow retakes," his eyes flicked between yours and your lips. "Although maybe if you begged, convincingly, I'd reconsider."

For the first time your out of control train of thought was stuck, sputtering that he couldn't be asking for you think he's asking for, right? Your hands shook, steeling yourself.

"Please, Lucifer-"

He cuts you off with a tsk, making you wince. "Low effort."

After a beat it dawned on you what he was truly asking for. It felt scummy, lifting your sweatshirt off slowly, but at the same time an odd thrill fluttered in your gut as you felt his eyes burning into you. With shaky breaths you stood, undoing your bra as gooseflesh rose on your arms when the chilly office air brushed over your bare chest.

You made your way unsteadily in front of him, still seated behind the desk with a bemused smirk resting on his face. A stark contrast from how his crimson eyes devoured you. Gingerly you sank to your knees in front of him, trembling hands sliding along his thighs as you glanced up through your lashes. He stared down at you in such a distinct way you couldn't help but feel like you were lesser.

Strangely, it excited you.

"Make me believe you deserve that retake."

A shiver crawled down your spine as you watched him undo his trousers, tugging his cock out of his briefs and all you could do was watch with a sudden and unfamiliar lust working through your brain. Seeing the flushed tip beaded with precum had you overwhelmed by thoughts of what it would feel like to have him sinking deep inside you.

You whimpered as he guided your hand to wrap gently around his girth, feeling dizzy as precum smeared against your lips but the satisfied groan he let out as your lips parted for him and your tongue moved against the underside of his cock went straight to your cunt.

Lewd sounds quickly filled the office, only serving to make you wetter. When his hand came to thread through your hair it was surprisingly gentle, making you squirm and accidentally let his cock hit the back of your throat. A sound that could only be described as pornographic dripped from his lips, spurring you on as spit slid down your chin and neck with every bob of your head and twist of your hand.

"Drop your hands," he rasped.

Your eyes watered as his grip on your hair became firmer, hips pushing his thick cock further inside your mouth against your muffled gagging, nose resting against his pubic hair. Forgetting yourself you shifted on your knees, spit sticky hands fondling his balls and letting every moan go straight to your head. It was dizzying and quickly you'd forgotten all about the humiliation that led you here, the only thing anchoring you was the pulsing of your cunt.

One hand stayed against his thigh to keep your balance as he used your mouth all on his own, but you couldn't take it anymore. Your fingers deftly slipped past your waistband to stroke at your clit, which set him off on a stronger pace that left you barely able to see him through the tears crowding your vision.

The vibration from your gags and moans were sending him over the edge, evidenced by how recklessly he pushed to hit as deep as possible in your throat. Your thighs were screaming, muscles beyond sore from both supporting your position and with how tightly you clenched while rubbing rhythmic circles around your neglected clit.

As your own orgasm crested he gave a series of particularly mean thrusts, making you snort through the tears and spit before thick, salty cum filled your mouth. It was a superhuman effort to swallow around him, and as you pulled back you heaved for air, noticing the glimmering string of mixed cum and spit connecting your lips to his swollen tip before licking your lips to break it.

As he sat back against the chair fully again, you felt the mess of fluids clinging to your skin. Blinking away the leftover tears you saw him repositioning and collecting himself before resuming whatever papers he'd been working on before you got here.

It made you feel ashamed all over again, stained with cum, spit, and tears gasping like you'd just been pulled from an icy river and tossed on the office floor. Sniffling you rose, with difficulty thanks to your sore thighs and bruised knees. He never looked up as you pulled your sweatshirt back on, wiped your face on the sleeves as best you could, and hurriedly stuffing your bra into your bag.

In the rush to leave, to run back to your room, you'd forgotten why you even came in the first place before his voice halted your frantic movements.

"I don't have time to proctor a retake, check later you'll see an updated score in your course work." It was so blasé you could almost believe you'd just had a normal conversation in his office rather than being face fucked.

The door creaked as you slipped out, biting your lip and wondering if maybe you should let the next exam slip too. Maybe you could do something else to earn that extra credit...

[mordenheim]

This is getting ridiculous

(The idea behind this story is credited to the wonderful @ask-de-writer )

Finn sighed as he guided his work van through the rubble and wreckage that used to be the central part of the city.  He gritted his teeth as he occasionally heard broken branches or downed inert power lines scraping across the already heavily damaged and dented vehicle’s once-white paint.

He stopped here and there, shaking his head and rolling down the window to take snapshots of the destruction.  The cream colored goat straightened his tie and ran his fingers through the messy mop of red hair between his short, curled horns.

“Third time in two years.  This is getting ridiculous.”

As soon as he reached the address indicated on his location tracker, the short goat clambered down out of the van and almost tumbled right into a massive hole.  One of several, actually, in the shape of a gigantic paw print.  Taking advantage of his natural nimbleness, he hopped his way across the thin areas of dirt left between them to reach an area cordoned off with hazard tape.

Ducking under the tape, he made his way through the utter destruction of another Trivial Matters Industries testing laboratory.  A cheetah police officer came jogging up towards him.

“Sir?  Sir, you need to be behind the tape, please!”

He tapped the ID card on the front of his shirt.  “Finn Chuul, assessor for Macro Destruction Insurance Association.”

“Ah, Mr. Chuul, right this way, please.”

He followed her along a path cleared through the rubble where he found a blue haired Calico cat in a lavender jumpsuit having an animated discussion with a doberman officer.  He was apparently trying to get her to tell him just what had happened here.

For her part, she was trying to explain some very technical processes to do with the one undamaged piece of equipment in the building.  For his part, the officer was just trying to get her to slow down.

Finn shook his head as he listened in, starting to make notations on his clipboard about the level of destruction.  His floppy ears twitched now and then as he tried to pick up any needed information.  Finally, seeing that the officer was getting flustered and having had some experience with this kind of thing, the goat made his way over to them.

“So, this thing went off by accident, right?”

The feline suddenly turned in his direction and smiled, nodding, “Exactly!”

“And it made a giant monster?”

She rubbed the back of her head, touseling her short blue hair.  “Uh, kinda?”

“And how did that happen?”

Before he could even react, she just said, “Like this!”

She kicked the base of the machine and there was a sudden blinding flash of green light.  Finn threw his hands up in front of his face, staggering back, trying to clear his vision.  He felt like something was crushing him, squeezing him tightly, then a bursting sensation all over his body.  He was losing his balance, falling backwards, but it all seemed to be happening at a slower and slower speed.  It seemed to take forever to hit the ground, landing flat on his back and feeling something crunch beneath him.

He blinked up at the sky to clear his vision before slowly pushing himself up into a sitting position.  Looking down at himself, he clapped his hands over himself, in embarrassment as he was totally nude.  Glancing around, he saw both of the officers and the feline scientists, similarly nude and all crushing the remains of what looked like a model city beneath their collective rears.

Looking down at the “model” beneath him, he could see ant-sized furres fleeing, tiny cars racing down cracked streets away from the four of them.  He swallowed hard as he realized what had just happened.

“I…  am SO fired…”

[bloopitynoot]

10 + 1 Modern Day WangXian Cultivator Au’s

This is a rec list for @yiling-laozu-is-loml but she kindly gave permission for me to post and share! A little bit about the Rec parameters:

must be long fics (so I stuck to min 50K completed fics- I did include one banger as an exception)

if applicable BottomXian only

all fics must be modern/ish aus with cultivators

Please enjoy the list! All of these fics are tried and true, I've also included notes on each with my thoughts.

1 Wei Wuxian’s Guide to Hacking for Fun and Profit (150,301 words) by ArgentInferno

Chapters: 14/14 Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, modern cultivation au, Hacker Wei Ying | Wei Wuxian, neurodivergent wangxian, Therapy for the win, Fluff, Shenanigans, Lan Wangji isn't good with feelings, Fighting against corruption, Talisman-based tech, Getting Together, Slow Burn, shameless flirting Summary: When Lan Wangji is seconded to the Lanling branch of the Cultivation Bureau, he expects a boring rotation. Perhaps a lonely one, but he is accustomed to loneliness, and duty is duty. He doesn’t expect to be partnered with an over-exuberant ex-criminal with far too much enthusiasm for hacking, making mischief, and annoying Lan Wangji. Wei Wuxian is everything Lan Wangji despises in a cultivator – he’s loud, unruly, and has no respect for anything. He’s even proud of what he did to get arrested in the first place. Unfortunately, he’s also very good at what he does. If Lan Wangji is going to figure out why someone with a talent for both hacking and talisman curses is targeting certain prominent members of Lanling’s high society, he’s going to need all the help he can get, for it’s far from a normal case. Solving it might put both him and Wei Wuxian in the crosshairs of some very powerful people on both sides of the law. Then again, given Wei Wuxian’s predilection for explosive experiments, working with him might be most dangerous part about the whole mess.

NOTES: This fic was honestly so cool! There are a couple techno-cultivator fics i've read and this casefic was light and wholesome with a unique plot. I love the idea of mixing tech and cultivation and this fic does a fantastic job with it. It also brings up some great themes around classism and power which is *chefs kiss *

2 Hear a song this deeply (87424 words) by so_shhy

Chapters: 16/16 Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, modern cultivation au, Kind of academia AU, Music, Kid Fic, Canon-Typical Violence, Action/Adventure, To An Extent, Background XiYao - Freeform, canon-typical Meng Yao behaviour, Original Character(s), Slow Burn, Fluff and Angst, we love us some tragic backstory, Happy Ending, for wangxian at least, [slaps fic] this baby can fit so much plot in it Summary: “I’m not here to help you with your work,” said Lan Zhan, injecting frost into his voice to deter any further attempts at charm. “I’ll be focusing on my research.” Wei Ying cocked his head. “Research?” he said. “Mm. I’m a cultivation researcher, not a department employee. I’m reconstructing the ancient musical cultivation techniques of the Lan clan.” _ Lan Zhan’s new liaison at the Caiyi Municipal Cultivation Department is an enigma – ridiculously talented, yet somehow content with mopping up spiritual pests for barely above minimum wage. Wei Ying is slapdash and irresponsible, and Lan Zhan doesn’t like him at all… but then he meets A-Yuan, who loves music and longs for a piano his father can’t afford. Forced into cautious friendship by a four-year-old's music lessons, Lan Zhan soon realises Wei Ying is more than he seems. The single father is a man of many secrets – including, perhaps, the key to Lan Zhan's life's work. And in the meantime, the background resentment in Caiyi Town is rising to dangerous levels…

NOTES: Interesting take on modernish (fantasy modern?) rogue demonic cultivator WY protecting the Wens (also including Baba WY- which has my entire heart to begin with). A bonus is that this fic ft's a smitten Wangji. This fic is also lovely in the MDZS way in that characters go through a dramatic worldview shift via one messy man.

3 Hanlong (282550 words) by micratus

Chapters: 104/104 Rating: Explicit Additional Tags: Case Fic, Cloud Recesses Study Arc (Modao Zushi), But not only Cloud Recesses, Slow Burn, Oblivious Wei Ying | Wei Wuxian, Drunken Shenanigans, References to Drugs, Canon-Typical Violence, Action & Romance, WangXian, with non-explicit SangCheng, Eventual Smut, Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Wei Wuxian Protests Too Much, Humor, This is a translation, Modern with Cultivation, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Some guys find redemption here Summary: This is a translation of Ханьлун by Alexandra Kreuz. Now includes the second EXTRA chapter! Modern China AU. Wei Wuxian's morning started not with a cup of coffee, but with a forced business trip to the outskirts of China to deal with a strange influx of walking dead. That alone would have been fine, if his case partner wasn't that cold fish Lan Wangji. Yes, the same boring stick-in-the-mud Lan Zhan, with whom he has had an uneasy relationship when they studied together at the Cultivation Academy and whom he hadn't seen for more then five years…

NOTES: This fic was a great modern casefic with oblivious WY and I loved that WangXian has a past together. I will say it feels a little OOC at times, but I think this is mostly due to it being a translated fic. I enjoyed the story though!

4 All Old Things are New Again (51656 words) by The Feels Whale

Chapters: 1/1 Rating: Mature Additional Tags: Reincarnation, Modern Setting, canon still happened, extreme post canon, Sugar Daddy, Kink Negotiation, gentle dom!LWJ, canonical levels of consent play, Modern Cultivators, cultivators can recognize important people from previous lives, vaguely, this started out as a cute sugar fantasy and got just incredibly horny very fast, blame LWJ Series: Part 1 of All Old Things Are New Again Summary: Full-time necromancer and part-time cam boy, Wei Wuxian, finds himself unexpectedly homeless. An enthusiastic patron comes to his rescue. Conversely: Immortal Cultivator Lan Wangji has been waiting a long time for his deceased husband to be reincarnated again. In retrospect, he should have anticipated that this is how it would go.

Noted: Okay I LOVED this fic! Such a cool take on modern cultivation and Soulmate Au's. My heart for Lan Zhan in this fic- poor boy has been searching through time for his love's reincarnation. I also am a fan of sexworker/cam au's and this one is solid.

5 A Haunting Love (64621 words) by Selenay, omegas_m

Chapters: 8/8 Rating: Explicit Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Modern Cultivation, Writer Lan Zhan | Lan Wangji, Ghost Wei Ying | Wei Wuxian, But Is He Really?, Mutual Pining, Slow Burn, Falling In Love, Angst with a Happy Ending, Self-Discovery, Family Secrets, Embedded Images Summary: When Lan Zhan moved into Gentian Cottage, he was looking for a quiet home and a fresh perspective on life. He didn't expect his new home to be occupied by a ghost who was anything but quiet, or to be pulled into a century-old mystery. Lan Zhan is about to discover that the world is stranger than he'd ever imagined and romance isn't just a genre on his bookshelf.

NOTES: This fic is a little more loosely modern day cultivator. There are cultivators but Lan Zhan does not know he is one- it'll make sense. Anyways! This is one of a couple ghost WangXian fics that I love. The backstory is tragic as hell, but the ending is happy I promise.

6 your love, unmoved (82820 words) by TheOtherAsianKid, ravenditefairylights

Chapters: 3/3 Rating: Mature Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Sickfic, Family Bonding, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fake Marriage, Identity Porn, Age Difference, Hospitalization, Unreliable Narrator, Domestic Fluff, Mutual Pining, Compulsory Heterosexuality, Nonbinary Lan Yuan | Lan Sizhui, Hurt/Comfort, Single Parent Lan Zhan | Lan Wangji, Miscommunication, Canon-Typical Violence, slaps fic this bad boy can fit so many tropes into it, Implied Sexual Content Summary: Lan Wangi's life is very simple, and because of that it's also very predictable. He's a respected cultivator in his thirties, with a son and a class of Lan disciples to teach. And then he becomes Lan Wangji, a respected cultivator in his thirties, with a son, a class of Lan disciples to teach and a fake husband who thinks he doesn't remember their wedding because of the accident, and Lan Wangji doesn't quite know how to tell him that there was no wedding at all. Wei Ying is not predictable. Wei Ying is the farthest thing from predictable; which is only confirmed when it turns out that he's been doing some lying of his own. In Lan Wangji's opinion though, neither that nor the conspiracy Wei Ying is trying to uncover matter as much as how his eyes crinkle at the corners when he laughs.

NOTES: Okay what I love the most about this fic is that WangXian are disasters. The miscommunication is WILD. But it's worth it in the end! The fact that they are both hiding the same things from eachother and that the tropes are TROPING. So much in this fic, it truly is a wild ride.

7 Red Is Just Black Remembering (41272 words) by Zizzani

Chapters: 4/4 Rating: Explicit Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply Additional Tags: Angst with a Happy Ending, Angst, Fluff and Angst, Fluff, Homophobia, Necromancy, Alternate Universe - Ghosts, Ghosts, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, all my modern fics are set in Canada just fyi, Cuddling & Snuggling, Sharing a Bed, this is really just very sweet and kinda sad Series: Part 1 of Post Ghost Summary: Which is why Wei Wuxian is severely annoyed that one the first day moving in, there's a translucent man staring out his bedroom window. "Are you kidding me?!" Wei Wuxian huffs, voice bouncing down the landing as he drops his bags with a thud at the top of the stairs. The man turns from where he's been staring through the dusty pane and looks directly at Wei Wuxian. Their gazes meet and the man's eyes widen like saucers. In a deep, disbelieving voice, he murmurs, "You can see me?" "Nope!" Wei Wuxian announces and turns around to march right back down the stairs. It’s stupid, really. The man is already waiting at the bottom of the staircase when Wei Wuxian gets there. Wei Wuxian stops dead, eyeing the spectre. The man's eyes narrow triumphantly. “You can see me," he states. Wei Wuxian turns around and marches back up the stairs. The man is already there at the top.

NOTES: Another ghost WangXian situation but this time Lan Zhan is dead. This fic is less focused on modern day cultivators but there is still cultivation. I did cry a bunch reading this fic because of homophobia in a historical context surrounding Lan Zhan and his death. It's a really beautiful story though 10/10 would read again.

8 Truth Will Out (when caught on video) - End_OTW_Racism! (178962 words) by KizuKatana

Chapters: 20/20 Rating: Explicit Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationships: Lan Zhan | Lan Wangji/Wei Ying | Wei Wuxian, Found family Wei Wuxian & Wen Ning & Wen Qing Additional Tags: Yu Ziyuan Abuses Wei Ying | Wei Wuxian, But this time it's caught on video, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Modern Cultivators, Cultivators wear body cameras for training, Partial core removal but Wen Qing makes sure there's a foundation left, Wèi Yīng | Wèi Wúxiàn is expelled from the Jiang Sect, And ends up making money live streaming his nighthunts, meet ugly, Dual Cultivation, Wei Wuxian goes viral, Pretty much all the bad stuff happens in the first 2 chapters, Top Lan Zhan | Lan Wangji/Bottom Wei Ying | Wei Wuxian, Lan Zhan | Lan Wangji Has a Big Dick, And fucks a new core into Wei Wuxian with it, While the Jiang Sect Crumbles, No war, Qi fucking, Found Family Series: Part 1 of Caught in 4k Summary: A night-hunt goes wrong, and Wei Wuxian is scapegoated for the death of the Jiang Sect Leader and the destroyed core of the Jiang Sect Heir. As punishment, his core is taken and given to Jiang Cheng, and he is stripped of his cultivation credentials and expelled from the sect. What everyone forgot was that Wei Wuxian was wearing the standard issue body camera that each cultivator wore on training missions and high-risk night-hunts. Struggling to make ends meet, Wei Wuxian finds his way to Caiyi Town with the doctor who performed the surgery, a partial core still secretly in place. His application to work at Cloud Recesses is summarily rejected by the hard-edged Second Jade of Lan after an unfortunate initial encounter. But things change when someone hacks into the Jiang systems and releases the footage of what happened. [First part of the title is a quote from Shakespeare, but this story is not based on that one!]

NOTES: I'm not going to lie this story was heartbreaking. Wei Wing goes THROUGH IT for most of it, but I promise a happy ending. This is a neat modern cultivator Au in which cultivation sects have their own laws outside of non cultivator governments but a terrible thing happens to WY because Madam Yu is actually incredibly awful which forces some things to happen. Anyways, it has found family, and a new golden core (of course created most consensually with Lan Zhan).

9 The Shade of Old Trees (363665 words) by Kryal

Chapters: 25/25 Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply, Graphic Depictions Of Violence Additional Tags: Ridiculously Long Notes, Alternate Universe - History, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Slow Burn, 300k+ Words, Worldbuilding, Slow Life, Action/Adventure, Magic Returns, BAMF Wei Ying | Wei Wuxian Summary: “We rest in the shade of trees our ancestors planted.” They called the man in the ice Yiling Laozu, after a folk hero associated with the town in the foothills of the mountains where he was found. No one expected him to be alive!

NOTES: This fic was so damn cool. Like both literally (magic ice man) and the most rad plot. It is sort of modern cultivator? They are no longer a thing but maybe might also be a thing, but the man in ice is definitely a cultivator. What really is exceptional with this fic are the author notes!!! So in depth, so many sources, I love it when I can see what shaped the authors choices.

10 Echoes of Love (212176 words) by Witch_Nova221

Chapters: 32/32 Rating: Mature Additional Tags: Romance, Eventual Romance, Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff, university lecturer Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan | Lan Wangji/Wei Ying | Wei Wuxian Get a Happy Ending, Dark Baoshan Sanren, Amnesia, Memory Loss, 1980s music, Lan Zhan loves all things 80s, Oxford vs Cambridge Boat Race, Canon-Typical Violence, References to Torture, Murder, Blood, Blood and Injury, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Mystery, Nova's Give Lan Zhan friends of his own agenda Series: Part 1 of A Never Ending Story Summary: 'Somehow I knew, that day back at Churchill, I knew you were someone essential to me. That part of you was reaching out to a part of me and now I know why.' When Wei Ying fell he was ready to die. To die and to let the world forget him but someone had other ideas. Now, stranded in 21st Century England, he finds himself without a common language, friends or even any memory of who he was before. Luck alone brings him to the steps of Churchill College and to the attention of a young Professor Lan Zhan; expert in ancient pottery and fine art, champion rower, and lover of all things 1980s. With his new friend at his side, Wei Ying begins to navigate his new world in the hope of finding his place in it but echoes of the past are never far behind.

NOTES: Dang this is another fic that has me sobbing but the story was very good! Sort of modern cultivators- they are there but also not... this fic has a bit of everything; amnesia, time travel, 80's music, dragon boat racing, reincarnation- literally whatever you'd like. I will wanr though- when the tag says Dark Baoshan Sanren they are not joking she was vile. This fic does have a happy ending but at what cost.

BONUS FIC!

+1 The Festival of the Yiling Patriarch (1059 words) by sami

Chapters: 1/1 Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Relationships: Lan Zhan | Lan Wangji/Wei Ying | Wei Wuxian, Wēn Qíng/Jiāng Chéng | Jiāng Wǎnyín/Lán Huàn | Lán Xīchén, Wèi Yīng | Wèi Wúxiàn & Lán Yuàn | Lán Sīzhuī - Relationship Additional Tags: stories about stories, a centuries-long game of telephone, best boy Lan Sizhui Series: Part 21 of The Same Moon Shines, Part 1 of ridiculous future bullshit Summary: Stories change over time. Sometimes they have help.

NOTES: Okay hear me out. This series is part of like 2 other series and there are so many fics in the multiple series that it totally hits the long form category. Anyways, this series follows immortal cultivators in modern day (also through time) and is a bunch of little glimpses into their lives. They are CHAOTIC and hilarious and joyous. I highly recommend starting at the very beginning of these with the time travel fix it and working through them all. you will not be disappointed.

[katyawriteswhump]

the freak in the penthouse part 10

E-rated (for sexual content), accidental millionaire eddie/sex-worker steve. On tumblr: Part 1 Part 2 Part 3.1 Part 3.2 Part 4.1 Part 4.2 Part 5.1 Part 5.2 Part 6.1 Part 6.2 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 or search #thefreakinthepenthouse :) TW for references to past abuse.

On AO3

(behold the chapter that took me most of august, and billion x billion thanks to @wheneverfeasible for listening to my endless wailings about it--eeeeep! You are the bestest!!!!)

…

Chapter 10: my bad

When Eddie opened the doors, a young woman around his age barged in. She wore a white apron with some dubious stains and brandished that rolling pin.

“Where is he? Oh my God.” 

She dropped the rolling pin on the couch, along with Steve’s pack, which she'd had slung over her shoulder. She shook him gently. 

“Steve! Steve?” Then, to Eddie, “WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO HIM?”

“I’ve no idea how he got that way. I swear.” Eddie paced around manically, wringing his hands. “He crashed in, totally wrecked, and handcuffed himself to the pillar.”

Nah. I wouldn’t believe me either.

Aaaand, I deserve to lose a couple of fangs to that rolling pin?

“Where’s the key, fuckwit?” she snarled.

 “I… uh… not a clue.”

He grabbed up Steve’s pack, tipped it out and began rifling through the contents. It struck Eddie that this was probably all Steve’s belongings. His watch. A clean shirt and underwear, his skin-tight ripped jeans. Two inhalers and some blister-pack tablets.  A crumpled envelope with a couple of dog-eared photographs slipping out.

Steve was in the top one, aged maybe fifteen or sixteen, smirking beneath a pair of shades. He’d gotten his arm around a blonde woman holding a cocktail. She had to be his mom. His beaming father barbecued hotdogs by a pool, which was holiday-brochure levels of azure blue.

Eddie ripped his attention away. “I can’t see any keys.”

“Yeah. They’re in his pocket.” The newcomer fiddled to undo the handcuffs. “Didn’t you think to look? Jesus, you two dinguses were born for each other. I’m Robin, by the way.” Steve remained hugged around the pillar. “Some help here, shit-for-brains?” 

Together, Robin and Eddie got one each of his arms over their shoulders and hauled him to his feet. They dragged him between them toward the bed. 

He wasn’t exactly unconscious. He definitely wasn’t in the room either. His head drooped forward, and his flickering lashes cast shadows down his streaming makeup. Eddie’s heart panged, while his stomach twisted in knots.

Eddie was crazy about Steve. 

Seriously, crazy.

And he still knew literally nothing about him. 

Possibly my bad.

They guided Steve onto the bed. Robin propped extra pillows under him, then fetched a bottle of Evian from the minibar. Eddie hovered at her shoulder, chewed his fingernails, and wondered if he should call a doctor something.

“Steve?” She jostled him again. “Steve! Please say something. Please? You’re freaking me out now.”

His half-lidded eyes widened. “Robin? Eddie? Wha–”

“Steve! You scared the shit outta me!”

Steve looked… lost and totally bewildered. He took a sip of the water she menaced him with, vaguely dabbing the trickle on his chin.

“What happened?” asked Robin. “You know—ditching breakfast? Your little cognac party for one? Whatever unspeakable yuck I interrupted with Jon Bon Jovi here?”

Cognac party? That explained the booze on Steve’s breath. Eddie let the Bon Jovi comparison slip. Hadn’t she noticed Jon cut his hair for the ‘Keep the Faith’ album? 

Only true metalheads left at the big hair party, ma’am.

Robin came at Steve with a napkin to mop his face. 

“If you don’t quit fussing,” he hissed, “I’m gonna slap you silly.”

“Okay. Being a bitch. Back on form. When did you last eat properly?”

He threw his arm across his face. “Jesus, Robin, I don’t know."

“I might’ve got some pringles around here somewhere.” Eddie, desperate to be useful, scanned his half-packed mess. “Definitely a jelly donut.”

“Oh, real nutritious.” Robin jumped up and stomped toward the door, muttering to Eddie, “We need to talk.”

In the main lounge area, Eddie took one look at the fake marble pillar, shuddered, and snapped from his daze: “Look, I get it. You care about Steve. You and me both, sister. I would never—”

“You are NOT forgiven, numb-nuts.” She stabbed a finger at him. “I’m giving you the benefit of the doubt ONLY because he didn’t flip out when he saw you, so listen up. He’s sick. He’s not eaten today. I’m gonna get him a bowl of oatmeal and banana. Can I trust you with him, or will I come back to find him tangling himself in a sex swing?”

Ouch.

Once she’d gone, Eddie hurried back to the bed. Steve emerged from beneath his arm. His face was waxy, his vest and hair sweat-soaked and sticking to him.

He still looked lost. Haunted, even. And Eddie felt nearly as lost, stopping in his tracks a foot from the bed.

“Thank Christ she’s gone,” said Steve, then, “Eddie, you didn’t stare this much when I’d gotten your jizz all over my face.”

Those knots in Eddie’s guts wound tighter. “I’m really fucking sorry about last night. I’m sorry about smoking and never reading the runes, and…  about  a ton of shit, honestly.”

“Don’t be,” sighed Steve. “I’m sorrier. And about today. Christ, I’ve made a total fool of myself.”

Eddie shook his head, dared shuffle a little closer. “You’re fine, honey.”

“Yeah, we both know that’s a pile of steaming horseshit. I… I…” 

Steve’s face crumpled beneath his hand. Eddie’s right mind finally screamed, What the hell is wrong with you? You’ve literally shared this bed with him for weeks.

He bounced onto the huge mattress, muttered, “C’mere, you.” He felt stupidly grateful when Steve rolled into his opening arms. Eddie hugged him close, planted soft kisses on his hair. “I gotcha. It’s okay.” 

“I d-don’t remember.” Steve curled into Eddie’s side and his knee crept up into Eddie’s lap. “Oh God, Oh God. I’m losing my mind. I can’t even figure how I got here.”

Eddie found himself grinding his teeth. He didn’t know exactly how Steve got from that preppy, peppy kid in the poolside photograph to today—blundering into this penthouse then chaining himself to that pillar, locked in some twisted memory. 

No. Eddie didn’t know exactly. But he was starting to get the picture.

If I ever find the sick son-of-a-bitch who did THAT to you…

Right now, though, it was all Eddie could do to silence his own demons and simply hold Steve. 

“It’s gonna be okay, Stevie.” He planted a kiss on Steve’s temple. “Everything’s gonna be fine.”

…

Steve was desperately trying to piece together what the hell just happened. 

Being here, with Eddie holding him like this, helped. Eddie’s heartbeat thrumming through him, and knowing he’d apologized to Eddie, helped too. He still felt beyond wretched. It proved an effort to slide his hand to Eddie’s shoulder, grip that baggy t-shirt, and cling.

After his encounter with Kline, he’d gone to empty ashtrays. Usual routine. Then he’d needed some water, because he’d inhaled a ton of ash, so he’d used the tap at one of the hotel bars.

Oh yeah, the brandy.

The cognac.

The dead posh sort that his dad used to drink. Steve had slugged it back, puked again, and then his memories got even hazier. He was pretty sure, however, that he’d done stuff that meant he was totally out of a job, and… No, no, no, no, no.

He’d pushed those sessions with Godchester into the darkest corners of his mind. As he’d stumbled around the hotel today, they’d kept flashing back. The feelings of helplessness, breathlessness, the swish of the cane, begging for more so it might be over sooner, and then… and then…

“Sssssh, it’s okay. Everything’s gonna be okay.” 

Eddie rocked him back and forth. Steve breathed deeply of Eddie, who, to be fair, didn’t reek of tobacco as bad as usual. He focussed on the pressure of Eddie’s lean body against his, on Eddie’s arms around him. That dark veil slammed down once more.

“I don’t remember,” he repeated, in a voice so small that he was surprised Eddie heard, let alone replied.

“You know what, Stevie?” Eddie exhaled, long and unsteadily, and somehow, reassuringly. “I have nooooo memory of the day I checked into his hotel. That shit went down with my flop record. I woke up here next morning, totally stuck.”

Steve chuckled, though it wasn’t even ballpark funny. “Really?”

“Yeah, really. I mean, I smoked a ton of weed. Not saying it’s identical to what’s happened to you, but… I dunno. I figured knowing that might help?”

Steve peeped up, his chin digging into Eddie’s breast. Eddie still looked sheepish as fuck. He smoothed Steve’s hair. Steve dipped his gaze again.

“Okay. This morning, I saw somebody from my past. From the worst time in my life, soon after my parents died. It made me remember stuff I usually forget, and I guess I got lost in that, and… and…”

Nope. No way could he say any of that out loud. It was all too near and too raw, and yet…

He twisted his fingers in the fabric of Eddie’s shirt. Maybe, just maybe, he could keep clinging like this long enough to tough this out, laugh it off. Or maybe he could do something far more radical. Maybe he could suck up being such a loser and ask Eddie for help.

“I’m so sorry,” Eddie was saying. “I’m so very fucking sorry.”

Steve squeezed his eyes tight, squeezed Eddie even tighter, and… Jesus, he was beyond done with today. Snuggling like this was weird and new, also totally natural and totally right. God, he loved being with Eddie… like this… Even his juddering pulse had settled, fallen into pace with Eddie’s beat. With his head tucked between Eddie’s chin and shoulder, Steve began to slip.

“Uh, Stevie?” Eddie brushed his knuckles down Steve’s cheek, wrenching him awake again. “Hate to do this to ya. I, um, have to clear out of here in, uuuuh… about twenty-two minutes.”

Steve gawked up at him. The words sunk in. Then their meaning. He lifted his head and scanned the slightly spinning room. It was half packed, in a very chaotically Eddie fashion, crap strewn everywhere.

Oh yeah. He knew about this. Another horror he’d pushed away. He rolled off Eddie onto his elbows, groaning towards the chandelier. “Seriously?”

“Steve, listen. Right now, I only care about you and—"

“Be honest with me. Were you really gonna slope off without a word?”

“No way!” Eddie hoisted himself from the pillows and raised his palms in surrender. “I’m going because I have no choice. I’m broke, okay? I’ve spent every dime I ever earned and then some. I gotta suck up my terror of the big, bad world and skedaddle pronto. Or another night in this place is gonna cost a winter’s worth of donkey feed.”

“Donkeys?” Steve blinked at him.

Eddie swept hair from his guilt-stricken eyes. “Long story.” 

He’s broke.

You’ve probably been fired. He was your last hope of keeping you in meds, keeping a roof over your head. 

You’re dumbass levels of crazy about him.

AND HE’S BROKE. AND HE’S LEAVING.

Steve threw himself at Eddie and buried his face in Eddie’s neck.

“Oh shit,” squeaked Eddie. “Please, I wanna keep seeing you! We’ll figure things out. Don’t cry. Please don’t cry.”

“I’m not crying, dipshit,” Steve got the words out between hiccuping giggles. “I’m laughing so damn hard. At you. At us. Jesus!” 

And he was. Sobbing his mirth into Eddie’s neck, till Eddie enfolded him once more and also totally cracked up.

“Okay, you win again, champ.” Eddie flopped his face to Steve’s shoulder, mirroring how Steve smothered himself in Eddie’s. “It’s insane and it’s tragic and it’s g-goddamn hilarious. We’re gonna get through, right?”

Part 11 on AO3 Part 11 on tumblr

Thank you for reading. Likes, reblogs and comments much appreciated and will feed the bunnies🐰💕🐰💕🐰💕🐰💕

On tumblr: Part 1 Part 2 Part 3.1 Part 3.2 Part 4.1 Part 4.2 Part 5.1 Part 5.2 Part 6.1 Part 6.2 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 or search #thefreakinthepenthouse :)

On AO3 All my ST stuff on AO3

[just-here-with-my-thoughts]

Day 1: Helpless / Caught in a Snare

@febuwhump prompt: Helpless @badthingshappenbingo prompt: Caught in a Snare

Fandom: The Bad Batch Characters: Cadet Crosshair, Cadet Hunter, Cadet Wrecker, Cadet Tech Cadet Batch as featured in my WIP fic 'Pieces of the People We Love' - haven't read it? All you need to know is that Crosshair is the oldest, and Hunter is the youngest! Word Count: ~935 Click here to read on AO3

Synopsis: Experimental Unit 99 are on a training exercise and struggling to shake down with their new member, CT-9931 ‘Hunter’.

Crosshair scanned the forest constantly, enhanced eyesight picking up minute details which would escape his brothers’ notice. Tech loped along on his left, tapping away at a scanner which showed a relief map of the terrain, and Wrecker was on his right, heavy gun swinging idly from his hand.

Hunter was a handful of paces ahead of the three of them, skittishly glancing about as he guided them through the unfamiliar training course. The newest addition to their squad was more at home in this wild environ than he was in the halls of Kamino, and even Crosshair was begrudgingly impressed by Hunter’s enhanced senses as he kept them unerringly on track, without once referring to Tech’s map readouts.

His gaze zoned in on the ground ahead of them, and he pulled up short.

“Hunter.”

The younger boy tuned at his name, brown eyes flashing curiously from beneath his unruly mop of curls. Realising Crosshair had stopped, he slowed his steps until he too was still.

Tech and Wrecker halted between the two of them.

“Problem, Crosshair?” asked Tech, glancing between them.

“Give me your vibroknife, Hunter.”

Hunter bristled, teeth baring in a snarl. “What do you need it for?” he asked, defensiveness clear in his voice.

“I just need it,” said Crosshair, holding his hand out demandingly. “Hand it over.”

Scowl darkening, Hunter glanced at Tech and Wrecker for support. Tech shrugged his confusion, giving Hunter a sympathetic look. Wrecker turned to Crosshair.

“You can use my vibroknife, Cross,” he offered, unsheathing the blade which hummed to life. “Let Hunter keep his.”

Crosshair shook his head. “No, I need Hunter’s.”

Begrudgingly Hunter tugged the vibroknife from its sheath and held it out at arm’s length. When Crosshair didn’t move he muttered a curse and took a step forwards to close the distance between them, shoulders rising with tension.

Crosshair snagged the vibroknife and twirled it neatly between his fingers, a satisfied smirk spreading across his face. “Thanks, di’kut,” he said with a sardonic smile, not bothering to hide the creeping satisfaction of watching Hunter seethe.

With an audible snarl Hunter spun away from him, stalking forwards along the path.

The snare closed round his ankle, swift and decisive. Hunter was whipped into the air with a yelp, instinctively lashing out at nothing. Tech echoed Hunter’s yell with a surprised exhale, and Wrecker gave a bark of laughter.

“Hunter! You walked straight inter that one!” crowed Wrecker, picking his way carefully to the inverted clone and reaching out to stop him swaying. Hunter swore and swung at him, setting himself spinning as Wrecker leaned back easily to avoid the blow.

“We were warned of the potential of traps in the environ,” said Tech, peering up to follow the cable caught round Hunter’s leg. “I am surprised that none of us noticed it–”

He trailed off as he realised Crosshair’s shoulders were shaking.

“Ah.” He straightened his goggles. “Crosshair. Am I to take it that you did, in fact, spot the presence of the snare?”

“I am going to kill you,” snarled Hunter through bared teeth, although the effect was somewhat diminished by his inverted position and the gentle spin he found himself in.

Crosshair sauntered forwards, twirling Hunter’s vibroknife casually. “Shame you don’t have anything to cut yourself free with,” he taunted, leaning down so he was on eye level with the upside-down Hunter.

“Don’t worry Hunter, I’ll getcha down-” offered Wrecker, but was cut off by Hunter’s furious glare.

“I don’t need your help!” he spat defiantly, fixing Crosshair with a look full of loathing. “Give me my knife!”

Crosshair bared his teeth in a wicked grin, carefully holding the vibroknife in front of Hunter. The smaller boy lunged for it, reaching as far as he could, but his fingertips grasped empty air and he swung away.

Wrecker failed to stifle a laugh, and even Tech was covering his mouth with his hand to hide his amusement. Hunter’s face was slowly flushing crimson, though whether it was embarrassment or just the blood rushing to his head was hard to discern.

“What’s the matter, Hunter? Infallible senses didn’t notice the trap?” drawled Crosshair, an antagonistic smirk still painted on his face.

“You distracted me!” howled Hunter, thrashing about angrily. “You asked for my knife to distract me so I wouldn’t spot it!”

“Hmm, I guess I did,” the sniper gloated, tumbling the knife across his fingers once more before sheathing it at his belt.

“Awright Cross, you had your fun,” said Wrecker, smothering his grin as he shot a sympathetic look at Hunter. “Let’s cut him down.”

“Spoil-sport,” sneered Crosshair, starting along the path again. “Come on, Tech.”

Crosshair listened to the sounds of the other two as he walked away. There was a thud as Hunter hit the ground, a muffled, “I’ll kill him-”, and the sound of a scuffle as Wrecker restrained the furious young clone.

“That was rather unkind, Crosshair,” admonished Tech, falling into step beside his brother.

Crosshair discerned the truth of Tech’s amusement in his brother’s smile. His lips pressed thinly together.

“Now he’ll know better than to give up his weapons.”

“You’re his squad leader. He trusted you.”

“That’s the point,” said Crosshair, dropping his voice so that their words wouldn’t reach Hunter’s enhanced senses. “He didn’t like that feeling. Being helpless. Better he learned that now, with us, than… somewhere else.”

He risked a glance back to where Wrecker was carrying Hunter under one arm, the smaller boy squirming and cursing the whole time. His smile softened.

“Little idiot,” he muttered, with something close to affection.

[juicezone]

(WIP) A transporter malfunction has somehow altered both Cooper and Ward's physical state, leaving them looking more around the age of seven or so. ...Cooper's not handling it great.

Cooper barely gets a chance to feel disoriented and slightly nauseous when they return - immediately, a hand on his back guides him off the transport pad. He's grown used to McCoy's voice lately, but there was an urgency in the doctor's bark as he orders the halls to be cleared.

"What's-" He doesn't even finish speaking, startled at how pitched his voice sounds. Cooper stumbles, crashing into someone's hip instead of their shoulder or back.

He shouldn't have to tilt his head so far back to look at McCoy's face.

"Cooper, it's okay! Just the transporters being weird, we'll be fine!"

That voice is pitched too, and Cooper never knew Ward as a kid. But there's no one else that mop of messy hair could be, swamped in Starfleet science blue, the uniform several sizes too large.

He looks like a seven year-old.

He's the only one at Cooper's level.

He's saying something more, and someone else is speaking, but all Cooper hears is ringing in his ears. Everything seems to spin, and the ground gets a lot closer-

----

"-disrupted the transport beam somehow. You're both healthy and unharmed apart from this... altered physical self, so there's no concerns at this moment."

Dr. McCoy is talking still, but Cooper's not really listening. He's just staring blankly at the console across from him. Ward's squirming beside him, and somehow, that feels like the only familiar thing at the moment.

He doesn't want to be seen like this - in a uniform several sizes too big, his feet dangling pathetically over a biobed.

"We're working on getting you something to wear that's a bit better fitting, as well."

Cooper's breath hitches, and he clenches his fists tight, knuckles white as they remain in his lap. He doesn't need to look up to know that Dr. McCoy is eyeing him with concern. Thankfully, Ward's always a blabbermouth. He starts bickering with McCoy about wanting to finish some sort of project, and Cooper just tunes them out.

--

Carefully, Cooper wriggles free of the blankets he'd been huddled under. Ward stirs slightly but doesn't wake, so Cooper carefully shuffles out of the room.

Cooper had locked themself in their room as soon as McCoy brought him and Ward back. Hadn't said anything, hadn't eaten anything, just curled into a corner with all the blankets they had until Ward had come in.

They peek around the corner, trying to see if McCoy can still be seen. He had taken himself off all but emergency duties, promising to look after them.

Cooper resented it. He didn't need to be looked after when he was regressed normally, and he doesn't need it now. The only difference is that he's a bit shorter.

Using the restroom proves just annoying enough to frustrate Cooper. He shoots an irritated look at the toilet and sink, wiping his hands on the plain green shirt he's wearing. Both were definitely designed for adults, not six year olds. It wasn't impossible, but it was... irritating.

He reaches for the door handle to go back to his space, but he can't quite open the door. Can't quite bring himself to do it.

Cooper wedges himself in the space between the shower stall and the toilet and tucks his knees up close. He puts his arms over his knees and he hides his face.

He shouldn't even fit here. They'd be too big normally. The fact that they can sends a wave of- disgust, anger, despairdistressfrustrationnausea-

Cooper sucks in a shuddering breath and ignores the tears prickling at the corner of his eyes.

[lgctaeha]

「 ❀ 」  ━━ ˗ˏˋ ABSENTMINDED.

A LEGACY DANCE STUDIO ( Earlier this year...)

"...Do you know how many classes you've missed this semester?"

'Did you practice what we rehearsed on Friday?' The coach asks from behind the cover of her clipboard. She tries her best to keep her expression hidden, though her warm smile carries through in the lilt of her tone. Taeha nods, blonde hair bouncing as if it too had been patiently anticipating their session. "Yes! A bunch! At least a hundred times!"

'Is that so?' She smiles, shaking her head in disbelief. Nam Haera had only been working with Taeha a short time and was already so impressed with how quickly she took to new choreography. 'It's only been a day and you've already practiced a hundred times? Park Taeha, when do you sleep?' She doesn't - as evidenced by the layers and layers of concealer masking the dark circles under her eyes. The trainee still beams. "I sleep the most on Sundays! I can't rest when my routines aren't perfect!"

The coach nods again, admiring her tenacity as she begins to play the track. 'Well, let's see it then!'

"...Your performance in the course is unacceptable. We can't keep making exceptions for you. It isn't fair to the other students."

'Park Taeha? Is that you...?' The dance coach's voice startles her from a deep slumber. "Present!" she calls out drowsily, her eyes barely open as she pushes herself up into a seat. Still rather disoriented, it takes a moment for her eyes to adjust as the dance studio lights flicker to life. There's an imprint of a pen on her cheek, her hair a frazzled mop after an evening of rolling around on the floor ( and unconsciously tugging at it in frustration four hours into her all-nighter ). She eyes the digital clock on the wall above the floor-length mirrors.

She overslept. Again. Her phone rests a few centimeters away, a black screen reflecting her dreary expression. It had died hours ago. Her alarms never sounded. Her texts never came through -

"...Taeha, where are you?! Did you forget about the midterm?!?!"

'Taeha... This is the third time this week - ' Her gaze snaps up to Haera who had been watching her from the other side of the room, concern painting her features. She's done it again. Too overwhelmed to think of a proper excuse. Too exhausted to do so.

"...I'm sorry. I really wish I could help you. But after two missed assignments and your poor attendance... And then the complaints I received from the rest of your group... My hands are tied. I can't let you make up the presentation."

A tear rolls down Taeha's cheek, landing on the pages of her scattered study guides with a soft pat. A second follows, then another and another, creating tiny pools that spread across her notes. They were barely legible even as they were unsoiled and now they would be completely useless.

'You should go home for the day.' Haera nears, kneeling to assist the trainee with packing up her things. It is not until the two are eye level that she realizes Taeha had begun to cry. 'Oh dear... Come on, I will drive y -'

"N-no!" she stammers, frantically swiping her palms across her cheeks. "I'm fine! I just... I f-fell asleep. Dance training starts soon, doesn't it?! I'll stay for the early cla -!"

'Taeha -'

"I'm okay, really!" she finally meets eyes with Haera, forcing a smile though tears continue to stream down her face. "I'm just a little t -tired. But it's n - not. It's not -"

'You're going back to the dorms. I won't take no for an answer. You need to sleep.'

"But I - I can do it!" she pleads, a sob barely contained at the back of her throat. "I can... I promise I can do it!" She could! She could practice, she could train, she could drill, she could study, she could tour, she could - "Pl - please! Just let me... Let me stay - "

'This isn't healthy, Taeha. You can't continue like this - '

"...You can't continue like this."

"I can! I can do it..." Her words faltered as a wave of dizziness swept over her. Haera grabs hold of her arm, urging her to stand. 'When was your last meal?' Taeha shrugs weakly, letting herself lean against the woman as her feet drag towards the hall.

"...Have you considered that this program may not be for... someone like you?"

'You have to take better care of yourself!'

"...It is a simple form and the deadline is soon. You wouldn't be the first... And it will be much easier for you. Think about it."

[decepticonfessional]

The Emperor's Plaything - Test Build 2

Okay, I have compiled a second test build.

Following the above link you will find mediafire folder containing the read me, roadmap, changelog, and a short guide to the intro customization as well as all of the test builds so far.

If you have already installed the Gargoyle interpreter, then the only file you need to download for the second build is the gblorb ending in V002.

I'll post the text of the changelog here as well, below the read more.

THE EMPEROR'S PLAYTHING CHANGELOG - V0.0.2

Built security terminals for the Guard Stations, with monitors that show activity in rooms for the corresponding levels.

Fixed recharging so that it actually progresses until the player has regained full energy and does not report messages on every turn in between.

Fixed a bug that was occurring when the player examined themselves.

Built framework of reactions for maxed Player_Arousal when Megatron is present.

Filled in room descriptions.

Filled in a good chunk of various item descriptions.

Filled in the flavor text for generic washing up scenes.

Added items to the washracks such as towels, washcloths, soaps, and polish. Polish has no functionality yet. Towels are useful for mopping up puddles that may occur.

Added a monitoring board to Imperial Command. No access for the player yet.

Added a communications board to the Comm Center. No access for the player yet.

Tweaked some variables with introduction scenario three so that the 'escape' avenue is slightly easier to encounter.

Fixed some typos and paragraph orientation in introduction scenario three.

Fixed the confinement order so that once the player is confined to the Imperial Quarters they cannot leave without running into the proper checks. If you're past a certain amount of reprogramming when the confinement order is placed, you will not be allowed out.

Put Smokescreen in one of the Containment Cells. He does nothing right now.

Moved the Training Center to the west end of the Brig Corridor.

Built a new room attached to the Maintenance Hall called the Utility Room. It has stuff in it for service drones to use as part of their duties, which have not been implemented yet.

Thanks for checking it out and as always, I welcome any feedback/comments/ideas.

[kumeko]

A/N: For the Moments of Solitude zine! I wanted to try something a little different with my style for this fic. I also really like bullying Paimon XD.

…

…

…

…

1.

The world almost ended in a torrent of rain. From the rooftops of Liyue, Xingqiu wiped the water from his eyes as he watched adepti and humans alike fight Osial before it could destroy the city—maybe even the entire country. Swords clashed, sending sparks in the distance, and even over the storm he could hear the din of battle.

And, at the heart of it all, a woman stood resolutely against the waves of enemies. In the gloom, Xingqiu could just make out Lumine’s familiar profile, her confident stance as she raised her weapon again and again. Like a hero of old, she kept fighting no matter what evil was thrown at her.

Even as he fought the monsters below, his eyes were drawn to her again and again.

2.

Lumine’s hands were small, for a world-saver. She had fought Harbingers, abyssal lords, and ancient monsters; every deed added to her name made her feel larger than life. Yet, she was shorter than him, and her hands were small. Xingqiu’s hand covered hers entirely as they both reached for the same book in a second-hand shop. Her skin was rough from battle. A sharp contrast to his own, softer palms.

He smiled automatically as he peered down at a familiar mop of messy blonde hair. “I did not expect to see you here.”

Lumine looked up at the same time, her honey-coloured eyes meeting his. Her lips parted in surprise, though she didn’t retract her hand, her grip on the book firm. It was a funny sense of stubbornness and possessiveness. “Oh.”

“What, did you find it—” Paimon poked her head around the bookshelf. Noticing Xingqiu, she cut herself off and squeaked, “It’s the bookworm!”

Lumine shot her a tired look. Her tone was icy. “Paimon.”

“Oops.” Paimon covered her mouth and giggled sheepishly. She wore all her emotions on her sleeve, the complete opposite of her taciturn companion. Hovering at eye level, she rubbed her neck as she apologized. “Sorry?”

“Are you?” Lumine questioned, her free hand on her hip.

“It is fine.” Xingqiu chuckled, lowering his hand as he ceded the book. It was hard to feel insulted in the face of such guileless honesty. “It is nice to see you two again. Especially after everything that happened last week.”

“Did you see it?” Recovering from her faux pas, Paimon floated up and boxed the air. Her smile was as broad as the sea as she puffed her chest proudly. “Lumine was so strong! And cool!”

“You were there too?” Lumine asked, ignoring Paimon entirely. She pulled out the book as she spoke, a volume of Inazuma’s travel guide. He didn’t miss the slight upturn of her lips at the acquisition of her target.

“Yes, mostly to help protect the town and clean up any smaller skirmishes. Nothing compared to what you did.” Even now, he could remember how the sun shone on her on the docks as she stared at the calming seas, her body weary from the battle. A noble profile. Xingqiu smiled at Paimon. “You are right, she did look cool and powerful.”

Paimon chortled. “Of course I’m right!”

Lumine flushed lightly, the back of her neck reddening at the unexpected praise. Despite that, she didn’t deny his words. “It was a hard fight.”

Hard. Xingqiu snickered. Most people wouldn’t use such a simple word to describe a fight with a sea god, let alone one that saved an entire city. Then again, he’d long heard of Lumine’s exploits before he’d met her; maybe this was all in a day’s work for a woman who’d faced a dragon and lived to tell the tale. When Lumine looked at him curiously, he cleared his throat and changed the topic. “That book—are you travelling to Inazuma next?”

“I was thinking of it.” Lumine tapped the book cover lightly, her expression wistful. It was easy to guess who she was thinking of. The posters of her missing brother were plastered on every board. “I’m not sure which place is better to go to.”

Xingqiu laced his hands behind his back. It would be a long time before he could leave Liyue, but it wasn’t like he hadn’t thought of it. He read every travel book, every piece of news, anything that kept him abreast of the world. And all of that had told him one thing: Liyue and Mondstadt weren’t the only places facing a crisis.

Their world could use a hero.

Fortunately, there was one right here. Xingqiu glanced at the book. “Inazuma’s a good choice as any.”

“It is?” Lumine cocked her head slightly, her eyes beckoning him to continue.

“I trust him,” Paimon chimed in confidently, her hands on her hips. “He’s a nerd! He knows everything!”

“I’m not sure if I should let that slide…” Xingqiu frowned, glancing at the hovering sidekick. At least, he assumed she was a sidekick. Considering he had never seen nor heard of anything like Paimon, for all he knew she really was a pet or emergency food at this point.

“Pretend she doesn’t exist,” Lumine replied evenly, talking over Paimon’s horrified gasp. “It’s easier that way.”

Indignant, Paimon stomped her feet in the air and shouted, “What do you mean it’s easier?”

Lumine didn’t even flinch. “Anyways…”

“Anyways!?” Paimon screeched.

Clearing his throat, Xingqiu followed Lumine’s lead. “The other countries are more or less equidistant from here. Inazuma’s a closed-off country, but from what little news escapes its borders, the Electro Archon is keeping her people in a tight grip. In a contract of eternity.”

Liyue had been like that, in a sense. However, it had been a contract that both god and humans alike wanted, one where they had chosen to stay still. And now the contract was broken and Liyue was forced to step forward. Alone. To find its own way, with or without the gods.

It was a strange thought.

Xingqiu forced himself to continue. “I hear the people there could use a hero like you. They require your help.”

Of all the reactions he expected, a frown was not one of them. Lumine shook her head. “I’m not a hero. I’m not interested. I’m only trying to find my brother.”

Something coiled in him at the answer. “I am not suggesting abandoning your brother, only that you can help them like you helped us. All while searching for him. It is no different than your current actions to date.”

“It wasn’t like I planned any of that…” Lumine tapped the book again, her expression thoughtful. “It just happened. I’d rather not get dragged into another mess again. It takes up too much time.”

The coil wound tighter. Mess. The potential destruction of Liyue, and she saw it as a bother, a mess. A time-waster.

Heroes didn’t talk like that.

Lumine gnawed her lip, not noticing his silence. “If it’s closed off…if Aether’s there, of course no one’s heard of him…” She nodded. “Thanks, I think I’ll go there after all.”

3.

It was a usual thing: Chongyun came to find Xingqiu once a week like clockwork, his expression hopeful as he asked for leads for an exorcism. Or rather, a ghost strong enough to last until Chongyun could actually exorcise instead of just relying on his ridiculous aura.

“Found anything?” Chongyun asked, his eyes bright and hopeful.

“I…” And this was the part where Xingqiu normally laid out the groundwork for his next prank, his next stress relief. This was the part where he got Chongyun in trouble yet again and then bailed him out when it got over his friend’s head.

I’m not interested in helping.

His breath hitched. The memory stung.

“There’s a village filled with ghosts,” Xingqiu replied instead, discarding plans he’d made months in advance. “I’ll lead you there.”

4.

“You’re sure it’s here?” Chongyun asked, scratching his head as he glanced around the mountainside. The forest was thick, making it hard to see anything but the small dirt path leading forward. “We’ve been walking for hours now and I haven’t even seen any villagers.”

“The villagers are all ghosts, of course you won’t see them yet.” Xingqiu exhaled softly. His chest still felt heavy, his body wound up. Maybe he was coming down with something. Maybe he should just abandon this all and go back to his original plan.

“I can back that up,” Hu Tao chirped cheerfully as she slung an arm over Xingqiu’s shoulder and effectively blocked any chances of escape. Sometimes, he wondered if she was a mind reader. “Ghost stories are my speciality, of course!”

Chongyun’s eyes narrowed in suspicion, his frown growing deeper as he regarded them. “Somehow, that makes me more suspicious.”

“Huhhh?” Hu Tao drawled in mock shock and horror. She clutched her chest with her free hand. “Why? We’re only trying to help, right?”

It was easy to slip into old patterns, old taunts. Xingqiu didn’t have to think as he buried his face in his hand and sighed. He slumped his shoulders slightly. “I had spent so much time and effort researching cases for you. However, if you do not wish to delve into—”

“Alright, alright, I get it,” Chongyun interrupted, his expression turning apologetic. He rubbed the back of his neck and bowed slightly. “Sorry for doubting you, thank you for the effort, and I won’t let you down.”

Xingqiu suppressed the urge to laugh. Their acting was atrocious, sure, but it didn’t take much to convince Chongyun. Even though by now, after all of their pranks, he should have been ready for it. Yet, despite that, their friend fell for the traps every time. How’d that saying go? Fool me twice, shame on me?

“Ohh, confidence. The village is just up ahead.” Hu Tao grinned like a Cheshire cat as she withdrew, her arm slipping back to her side once more. She cocked her head and taunted, “You need any help? They’re peaceful enough but there’s a lot of them.”

Her voice dropped eerily but Chongyun didn’t so much as flinch as he spun on his heel. His shoulders squared, he marched forward. “I’ll be fine! This problem’ll be solved in no time.”

“Will he?” Hu Tao wondered idly, stroking her chin as they lagged behind. “They’re a stubborn group. I think they’ve been here for centuries.”

“If he could do it in the first place, we wouldn’t be in this situation,” Xingqiu replied, watching as Chongyun started to call out for the ghosts.

“Boo, if we’re both on the same side, we can’t bet on it.” Hu Tao sighed, her cheeks puffing as she pouted. Her disappointment lasted a whole minute before she glanced at him from the corner of her eyes, her expression sharp. “So, what’s up?”

It took him a moment to realize she was asking him seriously. Xingqiu raised a brow. “What do you mean?”

“Well, this is an actual ghost.” Hu Tao clasped her hands behind her back and stretched her arms. The entire time, she kept her eyes on him, studying his reaction. “I only came because you said you’d set up a prank, but this is actual help.”

“It can be both,” Xingqiu replied evenly, averting his gaze. Hu Tao had always been observant in the worst ways. “And I’ve always helped him.”

Hu Tao snorted. “Not with actual exorcising.”

“Even with actual exorcising,” Xingqiu refuted, stubbornly repeating his point.

“And I’m a terrible salesman. You had him actually try to exorcise the last Yaksha last time,” she scoffed, shooting him a disbelieving look.

“The rumours sounded like a ghost story,” he defended, biting his cheek at the memory. “Besides, I helped sort out the situation after.”

“Uh-huh. And that time you sent him to Xiangling’s kitchen?” Hu Tao crossed her arms as she stepped in front of him, forcing him to stop. Despite her short stature, her presence was overwhelming. “So, what really happened?”

There was no point in hiding it from her; she’d only get more annoying and persistent. And Xingqiu had seen the lengths she’d gone through for a sale. He exhaled softly. “The battle last week.”

“Ah, the big one,” she said, as though there was any other one to talk about. Hu Tao shrugged carelessly. “I mean, it was great for business, don’t get me wrong, but…it was a little too close for comfort.”

Even now, Xingqiu could feel the cold sea water pelting down on him, see the choppy waves from Osial’s rage, hear the low din of a fight. He bit his lip. Close was an understatement. “Yes, it was.”

“So?” Hu Tao rested a hand on her hip and leaned closer. Her eyes were flecked with gold. He was certain she’d never heard nor understood the concept of ‘personal space.’ “It’s not like that’s the first time you’ve almost died.”

For some reason, that made him think of Lumine and he felt a sharp twist in his chest. “It wasn’t that.”

“Then what was it?” Hu Tao poked his chest, annoyed. “Get to the point.”

He rubbed the spot she’d hit. “Lumine…I met with her after.”

“Our great hero?” She chuckled gleefully, rubbing her hands together. “Now, she’s good for business and safety. Even without buying a single policy from me, she’s already helped me with some clients. Pro bono!”

“Did she now?” It sounded exactly like Lumine. It sounded so much like her and that was the part that bothered him the most. “For all she claimed she did not want to help others, she does.”

Her laughter faded and Hu Tao regarded him quietly. She reached down and squeezed his hand. “You’re disappointed?”

“Maybe.” He didn’t know what to call the heavy feeling in him, the one that refused to leave no matter how deeply he breathed. “I do not know.”

“You’re disappointed,” Hu Tao repeated, more confidently. She laced her fingers above her and stretched her arms. “Why?”

Xingqiu bit his cheek. “She does not behave like a hero, she does not desire to be one either, and yet…”

“She is one?” Hu Tao guessed, finishing his sentence when he fell silent. “She doesn’t sound like a hero from a story, does she?”

He flinched. “When you put it like that, it sounds childish.”

“It is,” she agreed amiably, though there was nothing scornful about her words. “Lumine didn’t really want to help me either; I kinda forced her to. And she does commissions for money.”

“Anything else?” Xingqiu asked dryly, scowling.

“But, you know, even though she complained, she still helped. And not just me.” Hu Tao smiled brightly, her eyes glowing. “That sounds like one of your stories, right? A reluctant hero?”

“That…” He pursed his lips. Perhaps that was the difference between reading and living through it; stories with heroes like that were more exciting from a distance, where you could clearly see the characters’ thoughts. With a real person, you never knew what they were thinking, why they were acting, where they would end up. The final page was still unwritten.

Hu Tao added, “Besides, we’re at the start of her journey, who knows what she’ll be like by the end.”

Xingqiu stared at her. What a stupidly simple concept. He should have thought of it earlier. He shouldn’t have forgotten something so instrumental to any hero’s journey. With a sigh, he raked a hand through his hair and shook himself out of his stupor. “You’re right.”

“Of course I am!” Hu Tao laughed cockily, jabbing a thumb to her chest. “Who do you think I am?”

“Right, right.” Xingqiu glanced ahead of the path. Chongyun was long gone by now and the forest was eerily silent. “Should we go look for him?”

“Uh…” Hu Tao scratched her cheek before reluctantly nodding. “Yeah, he’s been quiet for too long and that village…he might have bitten off more than he can chew.”

“You said they weren’t dangerous.”

“Mostly?” Hu Tao elbowed him as they hurried forward. “Maybe you can be the hero this time.”

5.

Months later, Xingqiu read about the fall of Baal, the changes in Inazuma, and the blonde stranger who’d instigated it all.

He laughed.

He shouldn’t have doubted in the first place: for all her words, Lumine was a hero.