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pappydaddy · 2 years ago

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sweet nothing (j.m.)

tv show/movie: outer banks | pairing: jj maybank x fem!kook!reader

requested by a lovely anon as part of my 800 follower celebration

synopsis: jj comforts y/n after another draining day in outer banks

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When Y/N and JJ first started to go out, many people had opinions on their relationship. A kook and a pogue? Of course people had things to say. All bad coming from the kook side (naturally). Her parents had never let her go more than a day without letting her know how much of a disappointment her choice for a partner was. Claiming that she was just throwing her life away, that she should be dating someone better. Saying that JJ was just holding her back.

Her “friends” (former) always told her that he wasn’t enough. He wasn’t romantic enough because he wasn’t showering her with thousand dollar gifts every day. They would trick her into hanging out with them only to smother her in “eligible bachelors” - their words. People she rarely talked to even had an opinion. Anytime she attended (forcefully) a kook party JJ was surprisingly banned from, she was swarmed by guys who paid her no mind in high school, all trying to swindle her away from JJ.

She never budged. Not an inch. Putting up an ironclad facade, she ignored them. When she told everyone that her and JJ were moving to the mainland, getting an apartment in the city so they could both go to school, the opinions got louder and nastier. Now, criticizing JJ’s appearance, her ambitions, her talent, JJ’s ambitions, and JJ’s motives. Her parents cut her off, kicking her out in hopes she would choose them over her. Tossing her out with the possessions she wished to take, they threw insults at her, aimed right at her heart, she moved in with JJ and John B until they moved.

While her love and devotion never once was shaken by the ridicule, her heart and feelings were. Their fighting words and insults were like a tiny, sharp shard of glass cutting through her confidence and her feelings - piercing her heart. Especially when they came from her family or old friends. Shunned from the life she always had, losing everyone simply because of the person you love. It hurt. They wanted her to stay the same, but to accept them as they change.

Everytime she was out in town, the snide remarks shot at her in passing under people’s breaths crawled under her skin, imprinting themselves into her brain. “It’s gonna end and you’re gonna come crying.” “Idiot, throwing her life away for a no-good pogue.” “She’s kissing her life good-bye.” “Dirty Pogue Slut.” “Trailer trash.” The whispered statements swirled around in her head. She didn’t care that they didn’t approve of them. She could give a damn what they thought of them. But those words being spoken by people you had trusted your whole life stung. Knowing that they are saying worse about JJ and herself behind closed doors irked her.

Opening the door to the Chateau, the voices lowered in her head, the sound of JJ’s humming muting them enough. She looked up, seeing him in the kitchen rummaging through John B’s food. “Hey, Bubs! You got an early start today.” He smiled, eyes lighting up when he saw her. His torso was naked, his boxers hanging low, and his hair messed from the pillow he slept on. He crossed the space between them easily and quickly, his lips falling upon hers sweetly.

“I ran some errands, getting some things for the move.” She told him, her voice weak, surprising her. She didn’t think the insults today hurt her that much, but apparently they did. JJ pulled away from her, a frown on his face and concern filling his eyes.

“They were giving you a hard time again, weren’t they?” He asked. She sniffled, nodding as he gently took the bags she was carrying from her hands. Paper bags filled to the brim with toiletries, cleaning supplies, and things to help them when they first move into their apartment, more bags piled in her car parked outside.

He wrapped his arms around her as he guided her towards the couch. “I try to look unaffected, but JJ,” She paused, tears welling in her eyes. “I’m just too soft. I’m not ironclad, the shit they say hurts.” She whimpered, burrowing her face into his chest, tears leaking out.

His arms tightened around her, holding her closer to him as he rocked them gently. “I know, Bubs, I know,” He shushed her, hand rubbing up and down her back. “They are upset because they all wanted something from you that they aren’t getting anymore,” The vibrations of his words rattled in his chest, soothing her. “Just think, in a few days we will be packing up your car and the twinkie, hooking up my bike, and leaving this place behind to where their words can’t reach us.”

“What about when we come back to visit?” She sniffled.

“They will find something else to bitch about by then. And even if they are still up to things, I will protect you from them.” He told her. The tears had slowed as she let his comfort surround her. While everyone else wanted something from her. Wanted her to carry on the family fortune. Wanted to get expensive gifts for their birthdays. Wanted her unconditional support but not offering any in return. JJ didn’t want anything from her. He just wanted her. Sweet, sweet nothing.

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wizardpink · 6 months ago

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Oh I just had a breakthrough as to why I watch s2e5 and cannot be mad at Armand for how he reacted to Louis.

Louis and Lestat's argument style was to scream at each other and say whatever god awful shit came into their heads and sometimes even put hands on each other. But Armand can only take so much of that kind of thing before he folds in on himself and either has to disassociate or break down crying, and not in the "crying while screaming and fighting" kind of way but in the "crying like the world is ending and I'm going to die" kind of way.

Louis heads it off by pointing it out in the big fight they have. He also stops screaming quite so loudly after "decades with you," and Armand snaps back in and the argument continues. Even Louis is shocked by how effectively Armand fights back this time, and I have to believe it's because most of their other fights would have ended when Armand got the "apocalyptic look" and either clammed up or broke down.

My last relationship was so toxic and abusive without me even knowing until it was over, and she would fight like Louis fights, loud and mean and scorched earth, expecting me to give it right back and let things go back to normal after it was done rather than internalize all the things she said. But I don't scream or say things off the cuff, or just to be mean. I don't respond to that kind of thing, I just shut down or break down. And she HATED that, and it would just provoke her to get even angrier and nastier ("my daddy groomed me into a little BITCH").

She was also the type to weaponize threats of suicide, something that kept me in that relationship for years longer than I wanted to be. There were periods of time where I had resigned myself to being miserable with her because I thought it was either that or being responsible for her death.

So to read people say things like "Armand tortured Louis by withholding his blood or not putting him in his coffin," ugh that is so triggering to me. Obviously the situations are different because Louis actually went through with his suicide attempt. But people watching Louis bring Daniel back to his apartment where he fucks guys that aren't Armand, stuff Daniel full of drugs and then drink his laced blood just before sunrise, lash out at Armand for being nagging, boring, etc, scream at Armand that the ten hours spent talking about Lestat were more exciting than 2.5 decades with him, get annoyed when Armand wont sink to his level, throw Armand's history of childhood sexual assault back in his face, try to kill himself when he bites off more than he can chew, and try to say he's sorry and beg for comfort afterwards????? You think Armand is in the wrong for not weeping at his bedside or draining his veins trying to heal him? Fuck him.

Like it's really hard to be unbiased watching that. Armand should have just left after Louis went up to the roof. Of course he wouldn't and couldn't, just like I wouldn't and couldn't, but god I wish I were the type of person who could.

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phantomphangphucker · 10 months ago

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Phic Phight - Dal′ton-izm

@tourettesdog

Danny should not be trusted with self care and clean up duty, especially if he couldn’t tell the goddamn difference between ectoplasm and blood.

Danny growls down into his arm, struggling a little to keep all the skin more or less together. Damn, he hated getting nastier injuries, it was always a freaking pain... literally and metaphorically. He’s busy using the other arm to fire off ecto-blasts and make shields to block the return fire. Stupid Skulker and his stupid homing missiles. Stupid ghosts destroying any sense of a normal fucking sleeping schedule. Ugh.

“I will wear you down eventually! And when I do! Then you’re mine!”.

Could he at least get some new lines? Danny snapping back, “tha oni ‘ay ya be owl ta cah eee ‘ine’ is ‘hen Ine ackin’ as a ‘and ‘ine fah ya!”. That wasn’t his best line and it was probably impossible to understand him, but his arm is in his mouth, so he’s kinda focused on things other than puns right now.

Skulker sends off another rocket at him, unsurprising. What is at least slightly surprising is that right when Danny puts up another shield Skulker gets shot by what’s borderline a freaking taser. Danny glancing down at a smirking Tuck peeking out around a corner and congratulating himself. Danny making quick work of capturing the ghost after that and landing on the ground with his arm still in his mouth. Sam popping out in a second and pointing at the ground aggressively.

“You better sit down or so help me”.

Man they were both always so aggressive about making sure he got patched up as quickly and cleanly as possible. It was both touching and annoying, sometimes he still had ghosts to chase! Or he just wanted to go to bed instead of dealing with being bandaged up or stitched or wiped down. Granted the stitching was usually a little more necessary, like it definitely was right now.

So he floats himself down to the ground, back against a wall and opening his mouth to let Sam inspect it and get to work doing patch up.

“Zone Danny, way to really fuck up your arm”.

Danny pouting, “hey blame Skulker, not me. I actually tried to protect myself pretty well I think, it’s not my fault he managed to spear a goddamn grappling hook through my arm”. The guy nearly took his arm off entirely with that shit, dumb jerk. Though that was probably part of the point since the dude wanted trophies and shit, he could absolutely see Skulker freaking mounting his arm on a wall or something.

Sam sighs, wiping his arm down overly thoroughly, “I know I know, it’s just a pain to clean up this level of damage and I’m allowed to worry about your dumbass; also, nice fang marks”.

“Worrying about my ass is fair, sitting on this hard ground is gonna make it go numb”. She smacks him over the head for that one before getting to work on the stitching.

Tuck’s off spraying some of the ecto mess on a wall, that dissolve crap Danny’s folks made works like a freaking charm, like well enough that he’d be legit worried they’re could get away with murder. All three going still for a second at the sound of a hover board, Danny turning him and Sam invisible while Tuck goes and crawls himself under a dumpster. Val/Red doesn’t do more than fly by at least, good. Danny grumbling quietly, “you know, if we didn’t stick around alleyways for cleaned up time, we wouldn’t have to worry about that so much”.

Tuck crawling himself out, whisper hissing, “dude, we can’t leave your mess everywhere. The other ghosts are one thing, you’re different”. Sam only huffing and working a little more quickly on her stitch work, it looked like she was nearly done at least and fuck is he glad his pain tolerance could solidly kick ass these days.

Danny whisper hissing back, “I don’t see how? Even if my parents, so called ghost experts, stumbled upon this, how would they even tell my stuff from any persons or ghosts stuff? My folks aren’t nearly thorough enough to take literally millions of samples”.

Sam pausing a little, “don’t be stupid”.

“I’m not being stupid. Like yes I’m sure stumbling across massive messes and stuff would be very upsetting for the towns folk but people have gotten used to weirder. I mean, I’ve overshadowed Jason, like, eight times now and the guy isn’t even surprised anymore”.

Tuck, scrubbing the edge of a newspaper stand, chuckles, “okay yeah that guy has terrible luck with you, didn’t you also accidentally set his water heater on fire?”, shaking his head and looking underneath the newspaper stand, “and it’s less about people freaking out and more about them wondering why there’s freaking human blood mixed in with the ecto”.

Okay now Danny just goddamn confused. Glancing around at what little remained of the mess as well as looking his -slightly messy again- arm over without moving it, “the heck you talking about? Everything’s glowing, why would anyone think any of this was human”.

“Okay sure, yeah, your human blood glows too but it’s clearly human blood, man”.

“No? It’s not?”. Literally the only difference between ghost ectoplasm and human blood was wether or not it glowed. If his human blood glowed then how would literally anyone know its wasn’t ectoplasm unless they went around sampling literally every drop they could find. Even then if some traces of human blood showed up in an ecto sample it could just be written off as freaking transfer or whatever.

Sam looks up at him like he’s stupid, while grabbing out the wrapping, her pausing at Danny pretty clearly looking goddamn legit confused. “Danny... are you seriously saying you can’t see a difference between your ‘mess’ and everything else?”; she sounds actually worried about him.

Well that was concerning, is he not seeing something they are? Because of the half dead thing? Sure, obviously goddamn dying changed his body, like duh, but he’d like to think he didn’t really lose anything a fully living human had. Or maybe it was because of the life long ecto-contamination? Danny shaking his head results in Tuck rubbing towels in some of the mess in different spots and holding it up at him with a head tilt.

Okay Danny’s going to guess that the towels, or the mess that’s on them anyways, look different to the guy. Still don’t to Danny... “if you’re trying to ask me if I think those towels look different from each other or something, they don’t”, tilting his own head, “how the heck do they look different to you?”.

Tuck drops his arms and the towels right on the ground, fully gapping at him, “dude”.

“Okay now you’re starting to worry me. They’ve both got a glowing mess on them so obviously ecto, the glow is literally the only difference between ecto and blood”.

Sam buries her head in her hands and actually starts laughing, “oh- oh my zone- no, Danny. Oh- ha!”.

“Sam stop laughing, damn it, you’re gonna make me laugh and this should be serious”, Tuck snickers a little anyways before clearing his throat, “Danny, man, Zone, how can you not tell they’re two completely different colours”.

Danny blinking owlishly, “what”. Tuck just losing it at that, sitting on his ankles and laughing into his hands. Wait a minute, Danny blurting out, “are you saying I’m fucking colourblind and just didn’t goddamn notice?!!?”. How???

Tuck wheezes a little more while Sam struggles to contain herself and actually clamp Danny’s wrapping in place. Tuck walking over while fiddling on his pda, shoving it in his face, “okay okay, we, ha, should definitely make sure this isn’t a half-dead thing”, wiggling the pda. “So what numbers in the circle?”.

Danny blinks at the screen. Oh damn it, screw him. There’s no damn number at all, he is so totally colour blind. Groaning and rubbing the hand that isn’t attached to an injured arm down his face, “ugh”.

“Well?”.

Danny sighing, “it’s just a circle, dude. Fuck my half life”. Rubbing his face some more as both of them snicker at him mockingly but also clearly in pure goddamn surprise. Well, at least it wasn’t a dead thing. Yay? Dropping his hand and then using it to gesture at the somewhat still there mess, “so all of this doesn’t look all the same?”.

Tuck laughs, shaking his head and then snorting, “no, man. It’s mostly ectoplasm, which is green by the way. But there’s also splatters and swirls of your human blood, which is red”, he chuckles again, “those two colours are about as different as yellow and black”.

Danny winces, okay so it was noticeable. Shit. Sam patting his shoulder, “you’re patched and at least now I know why you suck at cleaning and were always so lax about it. You would be so screwed without us”.

Okay that Danny can’t help laughing at himself, “oh yeah! my blood and ecto mix would have gotten found out in a month!”.

“Try three days, you combative little shit”.

Danny absolutely sticks his tongue out at Sam for that, but watching his two friends get up and start cleaning the area again; occasionally shaking their heads in disbelief or snickering some more. At least they usually didn’t try and make him help since he was usually supposed to be spending his time healing aka not moving around a ton. Tuck actually left him his precious pda so Danny fiddles with it looking up random colourblindness tests.

…

He doesn’t seem to have any other issues but he fails every red/green one horrifically. Even the ‘super easy’ ones. The universe must really goddamn hate him to make him extremely colourblind but literally only to basically his own blood/ecto. Stupid body, stupid eyes. Wait, him blurting out, “holy shit does this mean that Vlad doesn’t have the same eye colour as me?!?”.

Both of them burst out laughing and fall over each other, smacking each other and random things. Tuck wheezing, “NO!”. Sam snickering, “oh that is too good! I mean it’s sad but ho!”.

Danny sticking his arms out to the side, pda cradled in his lap, “but that means we have literally nothing in common physically? Who would want a son that looks zero percent like them?!?!?”. Their laughter only gets louder and eventually he’s laughing again too.

“What is going on here?”.

All three still, still goddamn laughing though because shit you can’t just stop that shit on a dime. Danny snorts, coming up with something on the fly before Red -fuck is her outfit even actually red????- decides to start shooting him, “I, ha, am apparently fucking colour blind and, ha, these two citizens decided to absolutely lay into me for not realsing there was human blood here”.

“I just flew through here! I thought someone got hurt and was looking for them! You jerk!”, she actually sits down on her board, “so this is how I find out that the only other remotely decent sorta coworker in this town can’t tell if something blood or ectoplasm. Zone that’s stupid and I hate it”.

Danny snorting while Sam and Tuck continue making half assed laughter-fuelled attempts to clean. “What? You gonna give me a way to beep you in case I ever stumble upon a mess again?”, and chuckles to himself.

She groans loudly, “i hate that that’s a good idea”. Which makes Danny bark a loud laugh, “oh man is being fucking colour blind what gets Red to stop ridding my ass! Ha!”, clearing his throat and tilting his head at her in a way he hopes looks puppy-like, “is your suit even red? I will whole ass admit to thinking you picked your colour because the ecto blended into it”.

He can tell she’s staring at him, “I’m going to kill you a second time, Phantom”.

“Been there, tried that. Do something more original”.

Red goes from glaring bloody murder at Danny to looking at the teens who’ve basically cleaned everything, meaning that Val won’t realise the RED human blood had been glowing. “Will you two care if I end the town menace?”.

Sam glares but is still too amused for there to be any real bite to it, “this is the funniest shit I’ve ran into all week don’t you dare sully that”. Tuck just giving an agreeing thumbs up while snickering and wiping off a storm drain.

Red sighing, “that’s fair”, pointing aggressively at Danny, “it is red and ectoplasm does not blend in, zone I hate you”, gesturing at random bits of wall and ground, “now is there an injured person or not?”.

All three shaking their heads immediately, Tuck giving the crappy excuse of, “bad nose bleed plus sudden ghosts plus face-planting into a wall. I’m fine”.

Red scowl could be heard in her voice, “good, now I’m going to bed”, her moving to fly off with a grumbled, “my suit was supposed to remind him and the town of my human blood, stupid ghost jerk”.

Okay fine that is hilarious, eventually Tuck comes over and gives him a high five, “congrats on not getting shot”. Sam shakes her head, “I’m more impressed she’s chilled out even remotely”, pointing at both boys, “but you know that excuse will never work again, right?”.

Danny blinking and smirking, “so what you’re saying is I should start being super cautious and just constantly send photos of murky liquid for a colour check?”.

“As much as I have no problem with you filling my phone with gore, I don’t want the cops to one day question me about that”.

Tuck elbows her, “eh I can set up a fully secure time deletion. Start lowkey stealing all snapchats users after I release it on the masses”.

Danny stretching and swatting Tuck one, “that sounds like you’re attempting to take over the world big brother eye in the sky style”.

“I totally could”.

Sam rolling her eyes, “I don’t even disagree”, her glancing around before nodding to herself, “looks like we’ve dealt with everything. How’s the arm?”.

Danny gives the limb a shake before grinning, “healed as fast as ever. And no seepage on the bandages so no, you don’t need to redo it”.

She puts her hands on her hips, “i don’t think you should ever be the judge of that. But fine, I guess it looks fine. Meaning we should get outta here before someone changes their mind”.

“Yeah yeah yeah”, rubbing his neck, glancing around, and changing back human. Eyeing his arm for changes and shrugging when he doesn’t see any olive murky liquid, “is my blood always a weird mix of colours?”.

Tuck patting his shoulder as they all begin to move out of the alley, “yeah, hence why we always try to hide you or cover it all the time. Did you just think we were being weirdos?”.

Danny rubbing his neck and glancing around, “I mean, yeah? More overprotective than weird”. They both shake their heads and chuckle at him and his generally stupidity.

In the future Danny did absolutely become just as cautious of others seeing his blood as his friends were, much to their relief and amusement.

End.

Prompt: Danny is red-green colorblind. This never caused him much trouble before the accident, but now, well... It would have been nice to know beforehand that his blood was the wrong color.

#danny phantom #phandom #phicphight24 #phic phight 24 #danny fenton #tucker foley #sam manson #phantomphangphucker #have a fic suck my dick #my writing #gothmoth #valerie gray #Danny's a dumbass #blood and injury #colorblindness #colorblind danny

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inventors-fair · 2 months ago

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Breaking Point: Increment Winners

Our winners this week are @corporalotherbear, @dimestoretajic and @misterstingyjack!

@corporalotherbear — Afterimage

Sometimes you see a card and you know immediately that it's immediately ready for the podium. I think I pulled one of those Oxidda Daredevil faces when I read this, because I knew immediately where it was going and it's pretty much exactly the kind of ramping-up effect that I was looking for here. It gets bigger, it gets nastier, and it's exactly the kind of fun shenanigans that red wants to get up to. Isshin has been a fun commander that everyone's thinking of, but I don't even care about that. My thoughts are for limited with any kind of value or evasion; getting a single copy can be nasty, and anything beyond that is game-ending.

I actually didn't think about this until now, but there's a single rules caveat: you do need to specify that it's either a creature you control, OR that the creature's controller is the one who makes the tokens. Otherwise, you can put it on an opponent's thing and then get attacking creatures during their turn which—yeah, you can see why that needs editing. But that's the most minor of nitpicks here. The single-word name here evokes a flavor here to me that's exactly what a copy-mirroring magic user would call it. I can clearly visualize the multi-frame image of a smirking warrior like Samut or Rip, cutting through the masses as vibrant copies of their swords and musculature decimate in their wake. Absolutely gorgeous work there. I'd be shocked if we didn't see this exact kind of card printed in our lifetimes.

@dimestoretajic — Grave Rewards

To be honest, there was a lot of competition for the rest of the podium this week. In the end, after a lot of shuffling, I kept ranking this card in my mind higher and higher. And you know what, it absolutely deserves a spot here because of one thing: its cost. That is to say: the rest of the card is pretty awesome, from the name-FT connection to the scaling to the game-ending-ness of it all. As a turn four enchantment, though, that's where the power level should be. In limited, it demands an immediate answer lest literally a single creature die and begin the spooky process. Sacrificing and removal and burn and beyond—it's a big push.

The more I look at this card, the more I want one or two tweaks just in case of power level balance. Maybe there can only be one counter a turn, maybe the Zombies enter tapped, maybe both. I'm slightly worried about massive burn spells taking out more of the competition and getting to Endless Ranks of the Dead exponential levels of tokens without as much build-around effort. But then again, like, this card is designed to be a windmill slam and a game-ending army-building card. How can you push it right up to the limit? I think that the simple nature combined with the intrinsic understanding of the prompt leads me to want to wiggle numbers in a way that I'm more lenient than punitive. Slight adjustments here and there to cool it down are better in my mind than a card that needs to be heated up.

@misterstingyjack — Chivalric Monument

No notes on this one. It's a fantastic control card and aggro card all at once. I can hear myself explaining at a prerelease already that "no, you won't get the other exalted trigger because of when attack triggers happen, but the next turn—yeah, there you go." Honestly? No notes on this one. The monument to knighthood is less about the conduct than it is about the rewards, and I like that. It's the temple of all that was noble and the strength that knights commanded that allowed them to reap righteous rewards. There's less of a 1:1 flavor translation but that doesn't matter here: the feeling of knights-go-swing is exactly what we need, and the ability to get that last point of damage in even without playing creatures is awesome.

The play pattern is already in my head: play this on turn two, then turn three, you can play a land and swing with a 3/3 that becomes a 4/4 without having to play another card in your hand. And then next turn, you can do the same thing, and you can just hold your resources while growing an intense threat, saving your further cards until you need to be more evasive or need to keep a control piece, or if you need to threaten either a blocker or bluff removal. This card is intelligent, it's dangerous, and it's deceptively strong. Something like Myth Realized wishes that it could get the same kind of play patterns as this card. The increment is unique, the ability counters matter, and the complexity is just right for me. Solid as armor.

Runners are comin' up~ @abelzumi

#mtg #magic the gathering #custom magic card #inventor's fair #winners #increment contest #commentary

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tadpolesonalgae · 2 years ago

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Chapter 7

A/N: Please defer to warning section in Chapter 1

-Chapter 6- -Chapter 8-

At first, Cassian was surprised when he found himself in a bedroom rather than a dungeon. Almost relieved. But he was well aware of Azriel’s nastier streak, and knew to keep his guard up.

But now his shadows have him tied to a chair, all because he was too preoccupied by how he could still taste you and hadn’t been paying the Spymaster a sensible amount of attention.

“I don’t see why you’re being so pissy about it. She’s fine. And more importantly, she liked it,” Cass insists, subtly pulling against the shadows binding him. Better to try and thaw him while Rhys isn’t there to encourage him. The male isn’t much better when it comes to you.

Azriel glares at him from across the room, making the darkness tighten around Cassian’s chest. “You acted recklessly,” he says, voice deceptively soft, warning enough it has the hairs at the back of the Warlord’s neck raising. But he won’t back down.

“I made progress. You’re just jealous that it was me who did it. That I was the first to get between her legs.” Cassian makes a show of getting nice and comfy in the seat, spreading the stance of his legs ever so slightly. “You’ve never learned how to curb that envy of yours. And look where it’s gotten you.”

Azriel gives him a look of warning—he shouldn’t be pushing the Shadowsinger right now, but he can’t resist the challenge. “It’s thanks to you, you know,” he drawls softly, matching the quiet lilt of the Spymaster’s voice, edged with possessive fury. His brother goes still, attention piercing in on the General. “When she admitted she liked the idea of someone dragging her down an alley? All it took was a little force on my part, and she was practically pleading for more.”

He throws the Shadowsinger a smug grin, one he knows he should keep to himself if he doesn’t want to make it worse, but he’s too caught up in the memory of having you release on his tongue that he doesn’t care. “She’s so sweet on the outside, and tastes even better, but you should have heard her. The things she was murmuring to herself, imagining she was begging me to stop?” He laughs, meeting Azriel’s icy gaze. “Maybe I’ll get Rhys to share the memory with you.”

It’s the last straw for the male, and Cassian stiffens, finally regaining an ounce of self-preservation when he steps forward into his shadows, vanishing.

Only to reappear at his back. Directly between his two, large wings.

“You want relief, Cass? Want it enough that you lost your cool and acted without thinking?” Azriel snarls softly, shadows skating up the muscles of his back, keeping the General still. “I can give you relief.”

Cassian jerks in the seat when he feels the Shadowsinger’s fingers dance along the sensitive membrane of his inner wing, hissing at the contact. His hands clench into fists as his side, gritting his teeth against the sensitivity. He can practically envision the vicious joy in Azriel’s eyes, knowing exactly what he’s doing.

“Like that?” The Shadowsinger murmurs, dragging the pads of his fingers along the dip beneath the peak of his wing, making Cassian inhale sharply. “Wish it was her? Wish she was the one touching you like this?” His hand wraps around the General’s throat, tipping his head back against the padded chair so he can watch his reactions clearly, hazel on hazel.

“Want to imagine that for me, Cass? Imagine she’s the one who’s got you tied up, all nice and ready for her?” His eyes flick to the Warlord’s lap, the clear outline of his arousal prominent. He hasn’t had a chance for relief since having his head between your thighs, and Azriel is fully capitalising off that little fact. Using it to his full advantage—exploiting it in every way he can.

“She’d probably like to see you like this, so torn up.” Silky shadows brush against the General’s wings, and he snarls at the taunting touch. “Such a greedy little vixen, isn’t she? Tell me, did she reach for you once you were done, or was she content to bask in her own pleasure and leave you starving?” Azriel asks pointedly, weaponising the information against the Warlord.

But Cassian grits his teeth, refusing to fall for it. And it’s then Azriel realises he’s being kept in the dark. There’s something the General doesn’t want him to know—something important, if he’s making such a valiant effort.

He halts all attention to the male’s wings, watching as he slumps a little in his chair, panting softly, colour high on his cheek bones.

Azriel settles his free hand over Cassian’s broad shoulder, leaning over him as he deftly drags it down the male’s chest, just shy of his cock. “You can tell me now, and avoid causing any more grief, Cassian.” He tightens his hold on the General’s throat, a quiet warning. A polite courtesy he’s extending, paying respect to their centuries of friendship. “Or I can make this difficult for you. You’re telling me one way or the other. Choose your path carefully, soldier.”

“I’m gone for not even the lesser part of an hour, and this is what I come back to?”

Both the males eye their High Lord warily, though for different reasons. The easy grin Rhys was wearing slips from his face as he takes in the scene, “what is it?”

Azriel straightens, and Cassian doesn’t know whether to be relieved or despairing the touch has left him. “He’s holding out on us. Have a look.” The General tenses, gritting his teeth as violet eyes land on his own. “Is that true?”

Maybe it would be better for him to cut his losses. They’ve all been after you for a while now—he shouldn’t try to monopolise you like this. You’re going to be theirs. Belong to all of them.

“She told me to take her,” he admits. “Tomorrow night. Even if she screams, and protests. She told me I should drag her away,” he breathes, “and do what I like.”

He doesn’t miss the look Rhys and Az share over the top of him. Because now they have a date for when to put their plan into action. And it’s much sooner that they could have even wished for.

#dark!poly!batboys smut #Pleasure over Morals #[***]#dark!fic

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jitterbugjive · 1 year ago

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It's disheartening when people don't understand what intrusive thoughts really are and dumb them down by saying shit like "lol I had an intrusive thought that I should put my hand in some poop, you're so silly, brain"

And people are like "haha SO relatable!"

But intrusive thoughts are SO MUCH NASTIER than that, they're so nasty that when people do talk about them, people often react like "holy shit you're a disgusting, horrible person" because the thoughts are THAT awful.

I get all sorts of incredibly nasty awful stuff in my head when I don't want them there AT ALL and they cause me high distress and I can't even talk about them to people I don't absolutely trust because I don't want to be accused of being a horrible person for thoughts I can't control.

Like, on the lighter end of the spectrum that I am even remotely comfortable talking about are very nasty thoughts about other people, sometimes horrifically prejudiced that have nothing to do with my own thoughts about these people, but rather it's my brain going "what would a horrible nasty discriminatory person say about this person? Isn't that awful?" and my reaction is yeah that's fucking awful why would you even entertain that thought? And then I have to get into the argument in my head that those aren't my actual thoughts and I'd never really say or feel anything like that towards these people.

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estarion · 8 months ago

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@willofvlaakith 🗡 from here!

It took what felt like incessant bothering to whittle her down. Vlaakith only knows what was buzzing through her companion's head at the time, but being pestered while she was meditating could be an easy way to get answers out of her. Nothing like poking the beast that wants to be left alone. Albeit, with a beast like her, it's often a coinflip on weather or not her assailant gets bite or bark. "What has gotten into you?" She finally hisses, lifting her head with a snap of her pointed teeth; Grit together and interlocked like gears. "If you will truly keel over if you don't know—" Lae'zel, in her camp attire, gestures to a well-worn scar on the flesh of her lower rightmost rib; Thin, clearly a slash or laceration from the side of a blade, or pointed end of a dagger. Roughly three to four inches in length, and curling inwards towards her side, "A sparring match that had went too far. Needless to say my sparring partner was left with much worse than a mere nick."

he can’t simply say that it’s because she’s delightful and hilarious—that she’s the only person he can stand today. he wouldn’t perish, would not throw a fit if she refused to explain her marks to him or pointed sharpened blade towards his nose and demanded he fuck right off. but he certainly has been acting like it; wounded looks, quivering lips, all the stupid things lae’zel is immune to, and that’s why he does it. there’s no icky fear with her. she might be the closest thing he’s felt to a friend in centuries. he does not care that it’s one-sided.

the blood-red of his eyes goes slightly glossy and soft when she relents, granting him her grisly tale. he loves it. wishes she’d give even nastier details ... but he’ll settle for just this. astarion sits back, deerskin rug beneath him, far too comfortable in her space. he prods the tip of his dagger into the log acting as base for lae’zel’s goofy mindflayer training dummy, trying to carve something. ‘dead meat’, in elegant elvish script. “i have scars, too.” his dagger tilts, applies a finishing touch; he smiles at the severed, vandalised trunk, vision strained and foggy for different reasons now. another poke at lae’zel should soon clear it: “... soo, how old were you when you took your first life? did you hesitate at all? how about regrets? ever have any?”

#willofvlaakith #(v)—with teeth.#when will he not try her patience

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hylianengineer · 1 year ago

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I waffled back and forth about whether my mystery pain is totally fine and not a big deal vs a massive, infuriating pain in my ass that makes me want to cry. The latter perspective is supported by the sheer amount of vent-y fanfic I've written about it.

Does this solve any problems? No, but sometimes you gotta scream into the void.

Will I ever get over my medical anxiety long enough to ask a doctor why the fuck my everything hurts sometimes? God only knows. Given the past 5 years of failing to do that, I don't think my odds are great. Also, what's the point? I've got a guess about what it is - fibromyalgia, the same thing my mom has, and it's really not very treatable. If a doctor were to suggest half of the common treatment options to me, I would want to bite them (I wouldn't bite them, but I'd want to). Exercise is the main one and I think it's stupid because yes the evidence says it improves quality of life but it does NOT say it improves pain, and doesn't exercise improve quality of life for everyone? How is that fibro specific? Either explain that or bite me.

I SHOULD talk to a doctor, if for no other reason than to rule out the potentially nastier and/or more treatable illnesses with similar symptoms, but also? It's been five years. If it were gonna kill me I think it'd've done it by now. I don't need some entitled doctor telling me this is a depression symptom (VERY common comorbidity with fibro anyways), or that I need to exercise more (I might actually start screaming), or that I should try yoga (again. screaming.). The most likely outcome here is frustration, anger, emotional trauma, and zero improvement of my symptoms. I'm far more likely to suffer from asking for help than I am to actually GET help. If it's what I think it is, there isn't much of any help to be had. And that's assuming I get a better answer than: "it's in your head" or "I don't know and I don't care."

Chronic illness and medial trauma: a fantastically horrible combination. Common side effects include despair and overwhelming rage.

#i'm angry! and i hurt! and i need to fistfight like the entirety of western medicine! and a bunch of nontraditional medicine too!#yeah i feel like the inability to discuss this topic without breaking down in incoherrent rage MIGHT suggest i'm slightly traumatized #just maybe #no more words only snarling noises #vent post #chronic pain #aaaaaaaaarrrrrrrghhhhhhhh

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j2zara · 7 months ago

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what if. j2 j3 and j4 all had uniquely terrible days due to a chain of events. j4 had to interact w porter for an extended period of time because j3 was busy helping jace (and jace spent the whole time yelling at j3 because. well. j3 is jace's least favorite.) because j2 could not get out of bed bc he was so miserable after his night being the jaceporter third. and theyre all so rattled and miserable that theyre like. should we fuck. it probably wont make it better but surely it cant make it worse

god j4 having to interact w/ Porter for an extended period of time b/c the other two are out of commission... her NIGHTMARE SCENARIO...

also i love that combined w/ my kinda Off Day im laughing bc im like i love that this is where ur heads at and i won't complain... so real tho like fucking won't fix the problem but it definitely wont make it WORSE.. something something its a bold strategy cotton lets see if they pull it off...

Just looking at this and this rly is the toxic cocktail day huh. And J2 doesn't even really get why he feels so miserable b/c he should be happy about this, right? He got what he wanted which was more than the other clones get. I do think even tho J3 had a bad fuckin day and he's typically kinda bad at taking initiative and his solution to literally everything in the world is like strip b/c its time to fuck or die, I do think he comes home and sees how miserable J2 is after he's done kinda snapping at him for sitting around and how he had to pick up the slack he's like oh. He's like. Really not on it today. In instead of his go to response being a little freak he just kinda holds J2 for a little while and it's really nice and it does make j2 feel better. It kinda surprises everyone that J3 knows how to pull out a massage for him while J2 just kinda lays there n groans (n tries to be normal abt it but honestly. Is maybe kinda turned on) n its like hey what i can put the work in sometimes.

and it's rly with no ulterior motive at all (b/c when j3 proposes other ppl take shit out on him he almost always does want to get something out of it too) when J3's like hey if you feel bad you can take it out on me. Its like. the only thing he knows so that's what he suggests. (and he literally he just got a fraction of what J2 gets on the regular so like he does feel bad. Jace is nastier to j3 than j2, like jace can be nice to j2 on occasion but he also doesn't deal w/ j3 as much so he is kinda spared from a lot of that). But he does try to make a joke abt it b/c that's what he always does like he's the one who can't keep it in his pants like. Do whatever you want to me I'll take it. Honestly it'll just turn me on. (N j2 doesn't really wanna take anything out on j3 but i do think a handy would get him out of his head a bit. And J3 is just excited to servicing someone else bc that means he doesn't have to think abt his own problems. who said that)

I know this is more of a like. Everyone Together situation (hello still thinking abt the j3 sandwich). and i DO think that happens n J3 is like REALLY excited bc it bc like he's in a bad fucking mood too and nobody rly acknowledges that he ends up being the bedrock in these situations like yes J2 takes on so much n j3 feels guilty he's not picking up the slack but j3 does end up kinda being the shoulder for everyone n its like. Damn i want something out to this too, i want out of my head too. So yeah the j3 sanwich is very exciting for him

But. This is such an indulgence on my part. i do legit think J4 dealing w/ Porter is her fucking limit in that. She kinda comes in slamming the door and J3 is expecting the worst from her (in a way that kinda excites him) n to his surprise she just kinda grabs him n starts taking off his shirt and pushes him against the wall n starts making out w him and is like no we're literally doing this right the FUCK now b/c i've had a long day. As is the fantasy high staple... she's getting her kisses in. And his brain is short circuiting b/c this is the first time she's ever initiated something with him without him being the whiny bored one like his weird like i definitely want you to fuck me but also im gonna be extremely coy abt what i want routine that drives her crazy but she usually caves to. Like holy fuck j4 is the one to initiate this time its not like i've been shaking over this n hoping this would happen and he doesn't know if its the day she had or if its him but he'll take it he doesn't care. After the day he had he deserves this too doesn't he?

#sorry we love subjecting j3 to the torment nexus even on a good day #imo this is a good time but maybe my view on that is skewed #jan.ask #4 jaces incident #nsft

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manyothermusingsofmine · 1 year ago

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Tale Of Midnight Blues || Drabble

Fandom: Baldur's Gate 3 Wordcount: 2957 Warnings: mentions of bullying, tiefling bigotry, and a toxic relationship Summary: Astarion is new to this whole "caring about someone's emotions" thing, so the best way to practice is to try and prod Willow about her past

AN: I really wanted to work in the dialogue of "where were your parents in all of this, Willow?" "Oh, please, my parents would trade me for Karlach in a heartbeat." but I couldn't find a proper way to do it. However I wanted to mention it anyway since it explains so much about the BFF dynamic Willow and Karlach have

-------------------------------------------- As much as he didn't like it when the sun sank below the horizon, Astarion had to admit that the sunset was rather pretty. Shades of oranges painted the sky as he turned the pages of the book he was reading, goblet in hand that he occasionally sipped some wine from. Others in the camp were mingling, telling stories of their past or silly little jokes they heard from somewhere long ago.

Music filled his sharp ears, no matter that it was faint, distant... and not coming from a direction he expected it to come from. He looked up from his book, only to then realise that Willow was indeed not present among the people telling each other stories and memories.

A small, somewhat annoyed sigh left him when this realization hit. He really didn't like it when Willow decided to wander off on her own; the tiefling bard had an uncanny ability of getting herself into trouble whenever she decided to split up from the group.

Finding her was as easy as following his hearing, the music he followed slowly intensifying even if she wasn't playing all that loud; it didn't matter. Being both an elf and a vampire, it would take far more than to hide from Astarions sense in that regard.

He found her near a small, self-made campfire on the river bed, playing away on her lute in a matter that sounded a lot like just regular practice or.. did it? Tilting his head, Astarion listened closer. She was singing in a dialect of Infernal, so he couldn't understand what she was saying, but... that didn't mean he didn't hear the sorrow and melancholy of the lute.

He waited for the song to be done, before softly applauding in order to get her attention.

"Marvelous, darling," he chimed, trying not to sound too sarcastic about it because it did sound nice.

"But would you mind not sneaking off without telling anyone where you're going? You seem to have a knack of stumbling head first into trouble when you do."

Willow just looked at him, unimpressed.

"What, you don't enjoy running to my aid only to then chastise me for being dumb about my decisions? I thought that was a hobby of yours at this point."

Astarion couldn't help but feel a little smirk coming up at the sass he received. He did rather enjoy it when she bit back a little, showed some back bone when he had really been thinking she was nothing but a big push over when they first met.

"Anyway, what are you doing around here by your lonesome? You should be at camp, being the life of the party; you're the bard, after all."

Somehow, that comment seemed to completely miss its mark. For a split moment, he saw her flinch, clutching the lute a little closer to herself. And for once in his life, he hadn't meant it as some sort of jab. He would've been way nastier if it had to be a jab.

".... Willow?"

No response. She just focused on the lute, now playing what were definitely little practice loops of a happy, upbeat tune. Almost as if she was faking it.

Astarion kept silent, before rather dramatically sauntering over and sitting down beside her. His ears flicked back a little as for he wasn't sure how to phrase what he felt like he needed to ask.

".... What's on your mind?"

That seemed like a good way to ask. It was a very Gale way of asking, mayhap, but the wizard always seemed to have a way of asking about someone’s day that made people eager to talk. Therefor, it was a good strategy to mimic

"A tadpole."

... Or, maybe not. Not when it came to her. Astarion looked at Willow, frowning as she just gave him a deadpan look in return. This was hard enough without her leaning into the general banter and push and pull thing they had going. In that silence, as he looked in the flaming green eyes she had, he suddenly understood why it was so hard to truly connect. Gods, had he really not seen it before now, how she drew up a wall of airy, light humor and jokes whenever someone got too close for comfort?

".... You know," he started, keeping an eye on her as she turned back to strum on the lute a little bit, "For what it's worth, the group we're in knows most of everyone's backstories, save a few details that people don't wish to repeat for a myriad of reasons."

Himself included. He shook the thought away.

"Well, anyone; but you. All I know is that you got involved with this Nephamor-"

The way she suddenly halted her play was cacophonic at best, and Astarion flinched at the sharp sound of it hitting his sensitive ears. Silence fell between the two, as Astarion finished the sentence in his head but refrained from speaking it aloud. That he didn't even know much about her dealings with this tiefling sorcerer other than that the guy had been enough of a bastard that Willow had wanted him dead. And succeeded.

He looked at her from his peripheral view, going back and forth between that and watching as the river lazily continued its path down the valley.

"Do you..."

Gods, he had no idea how to ask about this. It wasn't exactly like he was used to asking anyone about their past in an open conversation. He either guessed what happened, or got his intel in some other- he grimaced at the memory.

"Uhm..." he muttered, trying to get a hold of himself again. Honestly at this point he much rather heard her story than have some memory flare up in his mind of nights he desperately wanted to actually forget.

"Do you... want to talk about it?"

The silence returned, lingering thick between them as Astarion mentally kicked himself and was almost ready to get up and go back to camp, considering it a mission failed-

"It's not exactly some grand tale fitting of a Bard," Willow mused, setting her lute to the side and leaning back on her arms for a little bit to look up at the night sky. Stars were starting to emerge as she did, with the moon slowly climbing up into the sky.

"Not everything has to be some epic tale," Astarion shrugged, trying to be noncommittal about it.

"... Mind if I bring it to you like a Bard should, anyway?"

"If it helps."

She turned to him a little, and he followed her example so they were facing each other at least somewhat. Astarion made himself comfortable as she added a little bit of extra wood to the small fire she had made.

"Well, our story starts in a small town in the middle of absolutely nowhere in Faerun, and at least near a cave entryway into the Underdark. It's a town founded by a small settlement of Tieflings who made some deal with a nearby drow population that they would take these unwanted lands off their hands and, you know, leave them to roam the Underdark in peace. It’s a rough and tough land and while the drow aren’t really an issue just about everything else is.

So this settlement of Tieflings quickly starts to value martial skill. Barbarian, fighter, monk; all of them highly valued as protectors of the people. And then there's a little purple tiefling among them. Everyone here a Mephistopheles Tiefling, that can only mean there's some red blood in her history somewhere. And that would be fine, were it not that this little girl likes, ugh, music and art,"

Astarion just gave Willow a very small nod when she looked to him for some kind of reassurance that she hadn't lost him yet. She kept her face almost eerily neutral as she continued

"So, when she's not watching people rip up her poems and sheet music, she is trying desperately to convince a magic born tiefling that they're better off if they stick together. But he plays along with the crowd, because he is far too scared to be their next target. This continues for years until both of them reach their majority and she finally convinces the sorcerer that Faerun is big. Like, really big; big enough that if they just look, and have each other’s back, they can have the kind of life they dream of. So, they run, in pursuit of something better."

She was trembling a little, but as soon as he noticed that she seemed to pull all her emotions back in and continued her tale as if she was talking about some wild fairy tale that never happened to her.

"It was hard. On the road, they often met people who had never seen Tieflings before, who immediately drew back in fear at the very sight of them. Or, they came across the settlements of their kin scattered about in the lands and were seen as just another mouth to feed. So the Bard did what Bards do best; entertain. She sang, she wrote stories and poems to recite, and he was clever enough to get her a proper stage and ask people for copper and gold to get in.

Finally, she was no longer seen as a monster to placate or a silly little thing with stupid aspirations that would get her nowhere, no, they saw her shine on stage and called her name in unison and adoration- and that sounds like the perfect ending, doesn't it?

But- well…"

She paused, needing a moment to breathe, and Astarion couldn't help but wonder if it was in a metaphorical sense more than literal. His ears flicked back again, frowning just a little as he wondered whether to make her stop or not.

".... Go on," he eventually softly prodded.

"Well, you see, using fame to deal with your problems is pretty much the same as asking a hag for some solution to an issue. Yes, it's great to be adored as the amazing Bard, until... until the demands start pouring in. Until everyone wants your autograph, every minute of your time, every piece of yourself you never wanted to part with- and you have to smile, and bear it, don't ever let that smile falter. Because as soon as they catch you slipping, as soon as you're less than kind, well; you're just proving you're the monster they still think you are. You're "one of the good Tieflings" until you're not. You're talented and amazing until you snap at a fan to not step on your tail again, please, and then the fear and bigotry returns and you’re the reason they regard your kin that way again as well.

Oh, and the sorcerer you bring along for protection? Well, if he's not busy throwing you to these ravenous wolves in every way he can, well, he's keeping an iron grip on anything that comes in while working in your shadow-"

"Willow-" Astarion started, the slightest bit of concern ringing through in his voice as Willow's trembling got worse; like the campfire was no longer keeping her warm. But this wasn't from being cold; he knew well enough that this was different. But she continued as the dam had broken and the whole story was too hard to keep in.

"Because, silly you, did you think you were getting paid? No, he is selling your talent for his own gain. You were never supposed to be a team and he will never have your back when it matters. Your talent is just a means to an end, you're just being-"

She bit her lip in anger, eyes squeezing shut as a silence fell between Willow and Astarion. However, this one wasn't awkward like the previous ones had been. Astarions ears lowered, a small pang in his chest making itself known as he watched the tears cling to her lashes.

He lowered his own gaze to the ground. He could fill in the final word to her sentence without even thinking about it, the silence between them only solidifying the sudden understanding they found between themselves.

“.... And to rub salt in the wound, he kept contact with the hellhole you both came from. He promises your hometown that he'll bring you back and make you an ‘honest woman.’ Why, leaving town together, that's clearly just a complicated way of saying you want to get eloped, right? What do you mean, no? You don't get a say in that."

He felt rage bubbling in the pit of his stomach, almost angry for her in her place. If anyone knew how much of a stab to the back that was, or how chaining that felt... it was him. Red eyes looked into flaming green ones as he realised she still had more to say.

"... So I got in an argument with him," Willow muttered, dropping the pretense that this had been about anyone but her as she still fought back the tears that were burning in her eyes by taking deep breaths and occasionally looking up at the sky,

"I argued. I screamed. I was so angry with him- He just got angry in return; saying that it was so obvious that we were an item now, and basically that he would be hailed as some kind of wild beast tamer if he just brought me back. He fully intended to drag me back there if he had to. So I ran from his side- only to run right into the ambush of a mindflayer, be whisked away on some ship and have a tadpole shoved into my eye."

Silence fell between the two yet again as Willow quietly inched closer to the river, gazing upon the image reflected back up at her and letting out a sigh. Astarion casted his gaze to the side, in deep thought. What was he to do? What could he do? It seemed like there was nothing he could say to ease her feelings, and he truly wasn’t sure what to do now that his silver tongue failed him completely.

He inched a little bit closer himself, only to flinch back a little when she leaned back with another sigh.

“Not exactly a grand tale befitting of an ‘admired’ Bard, like I said.”

Astarion let out the slightest hint of a huff, a weird tight feeling emerging in his chest as he watched her shift her weight and position. She pulled up her knees, hugging them so she could lean on them in support as she watched into the dark waters of the river faintly illuminated by the moon in the sky.

The silence between them remained as he desperately looked for something, anything to say, only to come up completely empty. He didn’t know what to say; comforting anyone had never been his forte, neither before and definitely not after he was turned into a vampire spawn.

Eventually he decided to inch closer to her, joining her by the water edge. He took care to place himself just close enough to her that their arms were ever so slightly touching, hoping that his presence and the featherlight touch offered comfort when none of his words could.

Willow’s pointed ears flicked back and lowered, as her gaze darted between him and the reflection in the dark water of the river. As far as the water was concerned, she sat there by herself, not another soul in sight. The only thing proving that he was actually beside her was the slight cold creeping onto her arm from where his touched hers.

“…You know,” she started, with a little laugh of disbelief as she knew how stupid this was going to sound, “there is one singular, solitary thing I envy about your… condition. I mean, it’s not worth any of the hells you’ve been through, obviously, but…”

She slowly and deliberately moved the arm he wasn’t leaning against, her reflection in the water relentlessly mimicking the gesture, even when she dropped it back to her leg.

“But at least you’re not constantly reminded of what everyone else sees when they look at you.”

“Doesn’t mean they treat me any better.”

“No, I know. I guess… I guess I just sometimes wish I didn’t see anything when I look in a mirror. It.. it would beat seeing everything I don’t like about myself.”

That was fair enough. The silence returned after that, but this time it was strangely a little more comfortable than it had been before. Astarion reached for her hand a couple of times, pulling back in hesitation just as often. He wasn’t sure how to do this, if she was okay with it, if he was okay with it, but eventually he took her hand into his own. He ran his thumb over her ring finger, down to the very tip of the clawed nail. He was still thinking of what to say when they intertwined their fingers, and he lightly rested his head to the upper part of her arm.

“You…. your storytelling isn’t half bad, you know.”

A little snort came out of her as that was the last thing she expected him to bring up, but in that was a quiet appreciation that weirdly enough, a comment like that from him was far more genuine than any of his more shallow praise. She felt him lean against her a little more, almost like he stopped holding back his weight as much. She responded by very lightly and loosely wrapping her tail around him.

“… You aren’t half bad either, by the way.”

“… Thanks, Star.”

#Drifting writes things #love how I'm still not comfortable actually tagging this with the fandom. like. in the tags.#the fandom where ocs are welcomed and encouraged and pretty much the main way people interact with the game #trust me fandom its not you its me i've just been burned way too many times so I keep my writings rather close to my chest

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isledolon · 27 days ago

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unfinished basement | ashleigh | trial 2.5 | re: lacy

Are you paying attention?

Get your head out of that book and think about the real world…!

Shots from both directions, punching holes to let the cold in. Ashleigh tucks her pen inside her notebook, closes the cover, and reminds herself that no one in the room is being malicious. They’re scared and exhausted, like she is. They’re in Hell, like she is. Lacy is almost certainly about to die.

It’s okay.

Frankly, she’s been in nastier PTA meetings. Book club got about this heated when they read The Secret. And nobody at either of those gatherings had half as good a reason to be angry as everyone here tonight.

POSITIVITY IS POWER. And she knows how much she treasures Mugen, and how warmly she feels toward Lye, but she’s struck by an unexpected swell of affection for Noda, of all people, when he speaks.

She’s come to understand why he acts this way. But now, as he extends the fantasy toward a doomed and crying girl, the act reveals itself as more than purely self-serving.

She is surrounded by good people, she tells herself.

Even if—

(An unworthy thought occurs. She does her best to put it on mute.)

Even if—

(No.)

Even if—

(What’s the actual difference between murder and justice here? How many people participate? Whether one does it to change something, like Lacy did, or to protect something, like everyone voting for her is doing?

A group of fifteen killers will leave this room tonight. Removing Lacy from play doesn’t change that.

How is it so unthinkable that they might try something other than sending her to her death?)

Even if it’s needling at her.

“If we’re not going to do this—“ The words are thick as Ashleigh speaks. “I think we should decide what we are going to do when we leave. Because we’re still going to be here when we wake up tomorrow. And we’re probably going to get offered something else to make us hurt each other. And I don’t want to be in this room, having this conversation, ever again.”

She looks helplessly at Kanon.

“I’m sick of stupid arguments, too.”

Does that make you feel like a good person?

She stoops for a second to fish around in the tote bag, then hesitantly approaches Lacy.

They don’t really know each other. Ashleigh’s been afraid of her every moment until this one.

It’s okay.

“It’s not goodbye,” she tries, proffering the only scrap of consolation available. “What comes next. It’ll hurt while it happens. But then you’ll be back, like Shiloh, and everybody who — who just said they care about you will still be here.”

Just like she did for Cedar, she offers Lacy a plastic-wrapped packet of kleenex. Her voice is wobbly, like there’s a laugh trapped inside all the misery and terror.

“This is really stupid, but — when I take my daughter in for shots, I always tell her to look at a spot on the wall and sing a song. It doesn’t stop it from hurting, but it — you know. Means hurting isn’t the only thing that’s happening.”

I’m sorry. I’ll make it better. I’ll find a way to make it better. I’m sorry. I’ll make it better. I’ll find a way to make it better. I’m—

“Sorry. I really thought it was a good idea.”

#ic #chapter 2 #ashleigh #trial 2 #submission

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postgamecontent · 1 month ago

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A New Year's Arcade Archives Sale? What?!

Yes, it's true. Another Arcade Archives sale, this time running until January 18th. Ten whole games on offer, and as usual it's a split between ACA NEOGEO games and one other publisher. In this case, it's Bandai Namco. The ACA NEOGEO games are 50% off, while the Bandai Namco ones are 30% off. Let's do our usual thing of going through all of the games and giving some brief thoughts.

ACA NEOGEO Games (50% Off)

Art of Fighting

SNK sure threw a lot of fighting game mud at the wall to see what would stick, didn't it? Despite the fact that Fatal Fury was already out and played a lot better, at least in my opinion anyway, Art of Fighting was a pretty big hit for the NEOGEO. These characters found a much better home in The King of Fighters, but I know some folks have nostalgia for this. Here it is, half-off.

Aero Fighters 3

I don't think this vertical shooter is quite as good as its predecessor, but its goofy sense of humor lends it enough charm to make it worth playing through with each set of characters. I wish there was anything else interesting about it beyond the absurd jokes, but I suppose that's more than most games have.

Blue's Journey

The NEOGEO really only has a couple of notable platformers, and Blue's Journey is one of them. It's not too shabby, though I wouldn't call it something to run up and down the street shouting at the top of your voice about. If nothing else, it makes good use of the vibrant color palette of the console and stands out well from the somewhat grimy aesthetic many other games on the system favored.

Metal Slug 5

Look, it's more Metal Slug. It's an attempt at a correction after Metal Slug 4's obvious tight budget necessitated a great deal of asset recycling, and it's fine. Not my first or second or third choice of Metal Slug games, but it might be fourth? Maybe? Four bucks for any Metal Slug game is a solid deal, though.

Over Top

There is a certain type of player out there that loves top-down racers, and if you are in that group you are going to like Over Top a lot. It will not change your mind if you dislike this style of racing, but if you've never played something like this and are curious, this is a nice price to take a gamble on.

Arcade Archives Games (30% Off)

Dragon Saber

The sequel to Dragon Spirit, this is a much nastier game. And if you know Dragon Spirit, you know that is saying something. Still, it's a vertically-scrolling shoot 'em up where you get to play as a multi-headed dragon raining fire upon your foes. If that's not something you find irresistible on its face, you're made of sterner stuff than I.

Galaga

This isn't the first time Galaga's been in one of these sales, and it likely won't be the last time either. But if you don't already have Galaga, you probably should have Galaga. It's Galaga! You don't need a paragraph describing it. Yet here we are.

Libble Rabble

Okay, hear me out: this game has a real learning curve but it is absolutely worth sticking with. You have to control two arrows connected by a rope, each moved with their own stick, and try to encircle little mushroom things. You can also trap enemies and uncover treasure. Make big circles with lots of stuff in them to earn big points, but be careful you don't bump into a baddie or get your rope cut while doing it. My top pick from this sale.

Super Pac-Man

This one also has a bit of a learning curve, but it's not quite as good as Libble Rabble. Namco tried all kinds of things to follow up on Pac-Man, but it took a few decades before it found something as good as Ms. Pac-Man. Super Pac-Man has a weird lock and key system, and a new power-up that makes Pac-Man... fly, I think? He looks bigger and can go through doors without keys, so he's either flying above or Hulking out.

Xevious

Another one that has been in previous sales, so you might already own it. Certainly an important shooter in terms of the genre's history, and one I still find rather enjoyable. Some people feel it falls between the couch cushions of early single-screen shooters and more exciting scrolling fare like Tiger-Heli, but I think it's got a lot of style of its own. Surely worth five bucks and change.

#retro gaming #arcade archives

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badassxbirdy · 10 days ago

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Tyler was quiet for a moment, making no attempt to hide the concern as she listened to him. Concern that would have been impossible for her to hide anyway, especially when something seemed to startle him into jumping. “Wasn’t on my bingo card either.” She agreed, still watching him carefully as he started to move around the room.

“Just ‘cause you’ve seen worse, doesn’t mean you should have to see more.” She protested with a grumble, brow furrowing both from his reaction to the idea of leaving, and from her own train of thought taking some more unpleasant turns. "Somebody doin’ that could be a few things. Option one, whatever is here made them do it. Option two, they did it voluntarily. If it was voluntary, then it could just be a seriously fucked up murder. Or them disposin’ of the body. That kind of evil leaves echoes behind. But an echo doesn’t have consciousness, it wouldn’t only wanna show up to fuck with happy families.” And it certainly wouldn’t be enough to make the priest start the fire...

She sighed again, fiddling with the jacket in her hands as she thought through the other options. So much for the 'fun' of puzzle pieces sliding into place. They’d stumbled across something far nastier than she’d been anticipating. “If it wasn’t a regular ol’ human murder, it could be they were summoning somethin’ big. Or settin' up a really nasty curse.” Every idea that popped into her head worried her more than the last, all the details adding to a worsening picture. Fuck, she really shouldn’t have brought Lance along.

“Hey.” She moved to stand in front of him, blocking his progress with her hands on her hips and a stern expression, rather looking like a school teacher dealing with a rowdy pupil. “Cool it. We have time. You wanna get all touchy-feely with the decor, fine, just take it easy. Rushing this stuff is how more people get hurt.”

“First thing I’d be lookin’ for is more about this infant situation. I know you didn’t look for long, but was there anythin’ that could give us an idea of how long ago that happened? Something you saw, heard, anythin’?” Her eyes moved past him to look at the fireplace again, practically glaring at the thing. A little shiver ran up her spine. How nauseating it was to know she’d been standing in the very fireplace that had happened in. “We can keep lookin’ here. But I think we’re gonna have to do some more research too. I don’t remember anythin’ about babies or children in what we found…”

"I know" Lance said, rubbing at his chin. He was sweating already, the shock and nervousness getting the best of him. He let go of his chin and then started rubbing his hands together with a nervous little sigh. "Define alive" he replied, swallowing hard. Dear god, he hoped that it hadn't been alive. "I don't know. It might've been. It was too quick and quite frankly, way too fucked up to focus."

You know what they sound like when they're still alive.

It speaking up made him jump a bit, visibly startled by the voice, and even more so by the memories that reminder brought along. Because yes, he knows what it sounds like when people were burned alive. Knew what it smelled like, too. It made him want to gag.

"Sorry. Didn't have that on my bingo card for the day" Lance apologized, then tried to walk it off a bit, only to turn back around when she suggested that they should go.

"There's no way. That thing, whatever it is, is not hurting any more people. We need to get rid of it. I've seen worse. I can manage. Fuck it, maybe this is actually helping us."

Even though he didn't quite want to, Lance started heading for the walls and what little burned furniture and trinkets remained in the room, trying to touch as much of it as possible.

"What would you be looking for to solve things like this? Do you think we should try to contact whatever this thing is?"

#badassxqueue #*interactions #demcnsinmymind

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apronapril · 1 year ago

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Chapter 2: No threat is a match to April! Oh, wait, maybe this one is!

I thought about it almost too hard. I had to come up with a good plan… it was for her own good, for the world’s own good. Right? I tried justifying my actions. So I started doing it… for April’s sake, I had to stop her somehow.

“MAAAAAAAY!!” We were walking through campus, when she yelled that loudly.

“What happened?”

“L-look!” She showed me a couple, kissing… no, it wasn’t just “kissing”, it was full on “making out”. The two boys didn’t seem to mind it. Well, April was a somewhat conservative, but it was different from usual. Let me explain. She was fine with all kinds of love and identities. What she didn’t like was, in her words, ‘filth’. She said it was unnatural (although it’s not) and that it should be stopped. It didn’t matter to her if it was two boys, two girls, a boy and a girl or whatever else: the fact they were horny mattered to her. Well, that was a case of a simple aphrodisiac spell I had cast early on. Nothing too crazy, they would keep it in their pants for a while, if they weren’t too bold. But for April, it was too much to kiss like that (as they were, more like eating each other’s tongue than kissing). She went there, waving her little arms, separating the two boys. Thankfully, they just yelled at her instead of calling the police — like it had happened before.

We kept going with our day, without a lot happening. But she had a troubled look on her face. In the cafeteria, I cast the same spell again, and another couple was getting a little… nastier? God, I didn’t feel happy about that, okay? But it was, in a way, my own nature. I loved seeing her get all red and mad. Still, what I wanted the most, was to show her she was just like them. But I couldn’t just use a spell on her… it had to come naturally. I would do it somehow. Just think, May… that time, she tried using her sword, which scared the hell out of the couple. She was happy, so… no, wait! May! That’s no good! Ugh…

So… should the enemy threaten her somehow? I know everything about April. It’s easy to infiltrate… but it’s not easy to be “the other one” if she wants me by her side. So, I sent a message to her, from a very awkward applepie profile I created. I chose a random ass name, Lya, and typed out something that I thought wasn’t that bad.

@lya69696969

April… you, who claim to be a saint, shall fall like every other human. I will not spare your soul, but I will expose it, so everyone can see clearly what you’re made of. You messed with the wrong thing, girl. You shall suffer the consequences, and will taste your own blood very soon. I will bewitch people around you, from the ones you don’t care about to the ones you love the most, and everyone will show how dirty they actually are. It will be unbearable, to the point you will have to surrender. And then, I win.

Was it too creepy? Too cringy? Would she buy it? Two minutes after I sent it, she came running to my room. I was in my so-called ‘dad shorts’ and a random rock T-shirt, no bra. One may say: why would that be important? Well, because I can hear her thoughts. She came to tell me about the new threat, but all I could hear was some kind of… gasping…? I didn’t think I looked that hot, although I had just showered and my hair was a little wet. But, as much as her little mouth was so against any kind of ‘unholiness’, her mind seemed to think otherwise. I hated that someone so easy to read could play pretend like that. Was she that unaware of herself? If I had questioned my methods before, I started believing them even more.

“May… I need to save the world from this demon!”

“Yeah, sure.” I was unamused, like always.

“Come on! Can’t you show more excitement?” Hmm… I could hype her up, but I was getting a little tired. I petted her head again. She thought something like ‘please touch me more, May’…

“Aren’t you scared, April? You’re just human, after all.”

“I have a passion, May… and I’m, like, the main character, right?” She looked at me with a dumb face. I mean, well, yeah, if it was a movie she would be in the title, but it would be something like… April & May or whatever.

“Don’t push it. I’m afraid you’ll get hurt, April.” We both sat down.

“May…” She looked at me with sweet eyes… how she changed… it was kind of annoying sometimes that she could be the stupidest and the prettiest girl ever. “You wouldn’t let that happen, right?”

“W-what?! Well, I’m telling you!! Give up on that.”

“But I can’t give up now… there’s someone after me.”

“M-maybe if you said, ‘I’m not against it anymore’, they wouldn’t mess with you, right?”

“May…”

“Yes?” She looked at me very seriously.

“Are you stupid?” Wow. Now, that was unfair. “You can’t deal with demons like that…! Besides… people will suffer if I don’t do anything.” She was right, kind of. I had dug my own grave. “You’ll be with me, right, May?” She intertwined our fingers… why did it feel like that? At times when my own thoughts seemed more like random scribbles, I could barely read her mind…

“I-I… don’t know, April. Seems like it’s your mission. I will be waiting for you to come back each day.”

“That’s enough, then. Because you’re my precious May.” I felt bad, for a moment. Should I confess? “But I also couldn’t bear if this person attacked you… what if they made you act weird, or say filthy things…” Never mind… I hate that. Come on! Someone who looks at my boobs all the time, should actually act like sex is evil?

“You’ll do something, right?” I wanted to tease her.

“I’ll fight it to the end, May.”

“Oh…” I wanted to be mean, but I couldn’t do it face to face.

“Because I love May so much, I can’t have her hurt by any means.”

“I appreciate that, April… I love you so much, too.” That was true, though. I loved her more than anything else. Somehow, we fell to our backs, still holding hands.

“When it all ends, and I defeat this person, and I bring peace to the world… I want you to do something for me.” We looked at each other, it felt so sweet. I wish things were secrets and surprises to me, but my own nature deceived me once again. Her words were clear in her little head: “stop being my friend and become my wife”.

I wanted to hear that from her own mouth, with her own voice… and it hurt, because now we were enemies. I didn’t stop to think before, that she would eventually know it was me, and that she could hate me. It didn’t matter how much I loved her, we were enemies now. I was stabbing her back, while she smiled at me. I was the worst.

“Well, I think I’m off to sleep… I need to be prepared for tomorrow.”

But, for some odd reason, I wanted to destroy that facade. Would that mean I would destroy our relationship? That I would destroy April herself? If I was smart, I would say, “hey, it was me. It was a silly joke, please ignore that.”, and come up with another way of having her to stop the magical girl thing. Still, I was me. So I went with it.

#Apron April #GL #Yuri #Girls' Love

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