#my flat feet dig 'em

[brownskinsugarplum76]

This came on my feed. The interview happened in 2019... Sorry, 50.

😂😂😂

Video here.

[ktsumu]

A CHILDHOOD BEDROOM tw: allusions to divorce/his family dynamic, holiday comfort for the soul

Ushijima’s bedroom is nothing like the one you share. 

His walls are bare, save for a few frames with pictures that are older than the two of you. There’s a bulletin above his desk that’s naked down to the cork, a few tacks littering it at random.

He has his dresser, a small mirror on the wall hanging above it. The room is nearly devoid of colour aside from beige and navy, but the Christmas lights from the house across the street give it some red and green. Not much, but it’s good enough.

You walk along the perimeter of the room, the floors cold, hands tracing over his desk and chair. He watches you from the doorway, the door closing softly behind him as he does. You hear the same floor creak beneath his feet as he crosses to his bed, the frame sighing under his weight.

A print-out picture of him and a redhead (Satori, he’s mentioned) standing side-by-side in school uniforms is framed on said desk, thumbs up on all four of their combined hands. A team in maroon stands tall beside it, and he’s dead center. A three-person family — father, mother, boy — takes up the space beside that, the frame much more sophisticated than the others. He looks about ten.

The clock on his wall tells the time wrong; it hasn’t been reset since he graduated and moved out at eighteen. It looks like it’s a few hours behind, but it’s really telling you time six years back. 

“Your walls are so bare,” you comment, turning back to look at him where he’s sat. He offers an almost unnoticeable, lopsided smile. “Where are all the medals, huh? I’ve heard big things about Ushiwaka the Great, you know.”

You’re joking, but he answers, “In my drawer.”

(You check; it’s full of them.)

Ushijima watches you hold them, looking at all of the engravings before setting them back, the years stretching further back the deeper that you dig. It’s like your chest is swelling with pride over things he won before you knew him. 

“What is it?” he asks, eyes following you as you cross over to his bed, sitting down to face him. His brows furrow, leaning his back against the headboard that looks so comically small; then his lips tug up at the sight of gold around your neck. His teenage pride rests on your chest.

There is something so invasive about a childhood bedroom, about wearing what once was his entire life as he looks at it — a whole life you didn’t have the chance to watch lays itself out in front of you. This childhood doesn’t exist anymore (maybe it never really did) and yet you see it around you all the same. 

(It is invasive, but it is full of love. An empty room that feels so full.)

“Why doesn’t your mother display your medals in the house?” you ask, tilting your head. “Hell, my mom would’ve lined mine up in the window. And your desk is like a trophy factory.”

 “It’s not practical, I suppose.”

“So they just sit in here?”

Ushijima looks at you like he’s in thought. 

He shrugs. “Mostly,” he says, “my father has a few in California. My player portrait is on his office wall. My mother shows her affection in her own way.”

“Can we take some back home?”

“Why? They’re old.”

“I don’t mind,” you say, shrugging. “I’ll display them around the room for a bit, swap ‘em out when you rack some up this season.”

Ushijima just chuckles shortly, shaking his head as he moves down the bed, laying down flat. His feet hang off the end a bit, and the pillows are the same as they always were. “If you wish. You know I never stop you from anything.”

You hum. “God, does it echo in here?”

“Sometimes. It never used to.”

“When did it start?”

He knows when. “I’m not sure.”

You know, too. “That’s okay. Our room at home doesn’t echo, at least.”

“No, you won’t let it.”

“Never.”

Ushijima reaches out a hand, his left, and he twirls the medal you picked in his hand. You wear it still, and it looks like it gleams. His eyes flicker up to yours. 

“I love you,” you tell him. “You and your empty room.”

He sighs a laugh, one you taught him how to make, and he pulls you into his chest by the ribbon around your neck. He breathes, your head rises and falls with his chest, and the room comes alive; breathing with its maker, welcoming him home the best it can. You certainly help.

Ushijima looks at his bedroom walls, his broken clock; the house is not resetting, his parents’ old bed will always be half full and half made, but he thinks this is enough — coming back with you was enough. Now, when he leaves, he will remember a warm bed and leave to sleep in a warmer one. 

“Love?”

“Mm?”

“When we find a home we like enough to live in,” When. Not if, when. “I’d like to paint the walls with you.”

“Ooh, what colour?”

“Not white — or beige.”

You grin, angling your head up to see him. Ushijima is looking up at his clock, six years behind like he just got home from training camp, his boxes packed for the city.

(He meets you two years later.)

“Pick a swatch, baby. Just no neons.”

“Oh. I was thinking of a traffic cone orange.”

“Ha-ha.”

[socially-awkward-skeleton]

Chapter 15

Summary: With the mission over, the fight faced, Rory is brought into the fold of Price's new task force

Warnings/Tags: Minors DNI - swearing, smoking, manipulation through shitty weather and the world's worst christmas song

Pairing: Captain John Price x Fem!OC (3rd person POV)

Word count: 1.4 K

A/N: well this is it for this fic, stay tuned for Rory's MW2 canon fic "Shadow Dance" coming soon...

[AO3]

December 2, 2019 - Liverpool, UK

Seabirds strained against the wind blowing at them as dark clouds amassed in the sky, stormy seas crashed against the shore and waves broke with white crests of foam. Late autumn was rolling into winter and the ocean’s angry tides stood in fierce opposition to the Christmas lights strung up along the pier twinkling brightly. In the distance, over the cry of gulls, the tinny sound of Paul McCartney’s “Wonderful Christmastime” traveled over the briny air. 

Two lone figures stood out at the end of the wooden slats, silhouettes against a backdrop of somber gray on gray broken by the subdued glimmer of colored bulbs rustling in the marine breeze, resting against the railing of the pier.

Rory’s hair blew around her face as rain pelted down against her, matting it with the deluge; her long coat flapping in the wind as she dug her hands into the pockets, collecting her cigarettes and lighter. Cupping her hand around the flame as she lit her fag, the inhale of coiling smoke filled her lungs before all being blown back up towards the sky. “What are we doing out here, John?”

Leaning forward, shoulders hunched, bristling against the torrent, his blue eyes reflected the stormy scenery around them while puffing away on his cigar like a smokestack. “Wanted to have a chat.”

She hummed, “And you chose a soggy fucking pier over your flat? Why?” Her sideways glance cut into him, already determining the meaning behind his course of action. 

This was another classic from the Captain Price playbook. He was going to ask her something that needed a quick answer, doing so in a situation where she couldn’t take the time to think in comfort. Making her act, think on her toes. Immediacy.

“Starting a Task Force,” he said, shifting his weight between his feet. “I want you on it.”

“Me?” Her brows knit together with incredulity. “Why?”

“You are kidding, yeah?” His voice was gruff as he took another pull from his cigar, brow furrowing at her reply. 

“Is it so you get to keep an eye on me?” Her gaze slid sideways to meet his, her brow lifting.

Meeting her look in kind, he returned the same lifted brow at her accusatory tone. “You’re a good soldier, have skills I want and need.”

Endless ocean blurred into the horizon, and as Rory stared out, lost in thought, her jaw clenched. “People are going to claim favoritism.”

“Let ‘em claim what they bloody like,” he husked, bouncing on his heels.

The pungent scent of salt and decaying seaweed on the beach scoured her throat more than any whiskey could as Rory breathed in the sea air. “So, now not only will I be in a secret relationship with a superior officer, but my commanding one as well?” She scoffed and shook her head before taking another drag. “Just digging the hole deeper for us, eh?”

“Not under British military rules anymore, love. It’s my rules now,” he said, full of conviction.

The cigarette dangled from the corner of her mouth, clinging by her lipstick as it hung off her lip. Staring at him skeptically, she grimaced. “Don’t know whether that worries me more or not, quite frankly. Considering you’re the man who ignores rules on a good day and outright breaks them on a bad one.”

“Rules were made to be broken, my girl.” A sly grin pulled at his lips as his thumb and finger wrapped around the stub of the cigar in his mouth.

She brushed her hand through her wet locks, sighing briefly. There were variables in this equation that she worried John wasn't focused on in his bid to get what he wanted. Despite being the tactical type, planning and preparing, thinking steps ahead, a part of her wondered if he wasn't rushing into things with this decision.

“And what of my work with the SRR?”

“You were focused on AQ. Not much is changing,” he said with a shrug.

Resting her elbows on the railing, Rory brought her hands to her face, fingers steepling in front of her. “What about my plans to become an officer?” She pointed a finger toward him judgmentally. “You were the one who bloody convinced me to go for it.”

“I did, yeah.” He flexed his shoulders, fixing his collar against the rain. “You still can.”

“My rank is going to freeze,” she said, continuing to debate.

“You’re telling me what I want to hear.” Her smile grew as she laughed and her dimples became more prominent. “Fucking Satan could be out of a job with you about.”

“Yeah, it can freeze at Lieutenant after you finish your training.” He turned to face her, leaning his elbow against the pier, needing to make his point known and have it sink in. “I’m not gonna deny you your career, love. But I do want you by my side, fighting together. It’s what we do best… well – one of the things we do best together.” His self-assured smirk lit up his eyes as they crinkled at the corners. “Come on, darlin’,'' speaking in a low, conspiratorial rasp in her ear as he bumped his shoulder against hers, “You know you want this. No more restrictions. The action. Boots on the ground, weapon in hand. Going where the real threats are, dealing with them the way only we know how to.”

Shaking her head as she snickered to herself, the wet strands of her hair slapped against her cheeks. “Christ, you know if you weren’t a soldier, you’d make a very good businessman. Certainly know how to sell something and make a deal, don’t you?”

“I’m just telling you what you already know.”

John laughed loudly, the barking sound traveling across the seaside. “I’d at least give ‘im a run for his money.”

Rory rubbed her hands down her face. “Fine,” she conceded, with an overt heavy sigh. “Fine. I can hardly argue with you, now can I? I’ll finish my officer’s training at Sandhurst and then I’ll join your task force.”

“Atta girl,” his proud grin overwhelming his face as his hand cupped the back of her neck and squeezed it tightly, kissing the side of her head. “Gonna make this worth your while, you know that, yeah?” He purred into her ear, lips pressing to her wet strands of hair.

“Is that right?”

He circled behind her, his hands resting on the pier’s railing, caging her in between his arms and body with no escape. His mouth lowered to whisper in her ear, “You. Me. Wherever this war takes us.” Pressing a kiss to the side of her neck, his breath hot on her compared to the ocean air, he wrapped an arm around her waist and held her tight against him. “We’re gonna stir up a lot of trouble.”

She hummed, “I bet.”

Rolling her eyes, Rory took another drag of her cigarette. “Are we sure I didn’t just make a deal with the devil?”

“Gonna take care of you too,” he promised, nuzzling up against her, his whiskers rasping her skin. “No more time apart. Missions together. You’re gonna get sick o’me.”

Her giggle was soft, hidden by the roar of the ocean. “I don’t doubt that.”

“Either way, you’re stuck with me now, love.”

He tipped his head to the side slightly as if pondering the rhetorical question. “I’m better looking.”

Her body shook in his arms with laughter, the rumble of his own vibrating through her back. “Jesus, you’re an arrogant bastard sometimes.You know that, yeah?”

Price’s lips pursed, seemingly unfazed by her remark. “You love it.”

“So, now that I’ve agreed, can we get the hell out of this shitty weather?”

“Sometimes,” she said with a soft purr.

A smirk curled the corners of his lips as rain water slid down the lines engraved into his face. Squeezing her waist with his arm, he pressed her tightly to him, her soft curves melding to his muscle. 

“Think there could be a hot shower in it f��you, yeah. Can’t have my pretty little thing catchin’ her death out ‘ere, can I?” 

His warm arms held her, wrapped her in the intense body heat he always seemed to resonate with. The cold and the wet unable to find its way into her bones to chill her from the inside out. These were the moments she craved, held onto for dear life when things were bleak.

“Shut it,” she said with a laugh. 

Kissing her cheek once more, he whispered in her ear, “Welcome to Task Force 141, my girl.”

[kimberly40]

Southernisms:

Dumb as a bag full of hammers.

Meaner than a skillet full of rattlesnakes.

I won't say it's far, but I had to grease the wagon twice before I hit the main road.

If a trip around the world cost a dollar, I couldn't get to the state line.

He looks like he was inside the outhouse when lightening struck.

She looks like she was born down wind from the outhouse.

Never kick a fresh turd on a hot day.

Never smack a man who's chewin' tobacco.

The quickest way to double your money is to fold it over and put it back in your pocket.

Scared as a sinner in a cyclone.

Scared as a cat at the dog pound.

She's so ugly she'd make a freight train take a dirt road.

He's so ugly his cooties have to close their eyes.

So ugly his mama takes him everywhere she goes so she doesn't have to kiss him goodbye.

She looks like she fell face-down in the sticker patch and cows ran over her.

He looks like the dogs have been keepin' him under the porch.

He's about as sharp as a mashed potato.

So dusty the rabbits are digging holes six feet in the air.

It'll last about as long as a fart in a whirlwind.

He's rough as a corn cob.

He's got enough money to burn a wet mule.

He's about as sharp as a bag full of wet mice.

It's as dry as the dust in a mummy's pocket.

It's about as scarce as bird crap in a cuckoo clock.

He's as tight as the pages in a book.

This race is as tight as the rusted lug nuts on a '55 Ford.

It’s hot enough to peel house paint.

Running like a squirrel in a cage.

Safe as a tick on a dog with a stiff neck.

He couldn't pour rain out of a boot with a hole in the toe and directions on the heel.

If dumb was dirt, he'd cover about half an acre.

So windy we're using a log chain instead of a wind sock.

Tighter than bark on a tree.

As welcome as an outhouse breeze.

Her hair looks like a cats been suckin' on it.

We were so poor my brother and me had to ride double on our stick horse.

As bad-off as a rubber-nosed woodpecker in a petrified forest.

As confused as a cow on astroturf.

It was so hot you could pull a baked potato right out of the ground.

It's so dry the trees are whistling for the dogs.

Busier than a cat covering crap on a marble floor.

If things get any better around here, I may have to hire someone to help me enjoy it.

Well knock me down and steal muh teeth!

Cute as a box full of puppies.

You can't get rid of 'em. He's like a booger you can't thump off.

It's about as hard as trying to steer a herd of cats.

The wheels still turning, but the hamster's dead.

He's so confused he doesn't know whether to scratch his watch or wind his ass.

She was as nervous as a long tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs.

So crooked you can't tell from his tracks if he's coming or going.

I wouldn't trust him any farther than I can throw him.

He's got more guts than you could hang on a fence.

So dry the catfish are carrying canteens.

So dry I'm spitting cotton.

So hot the hens are laying hard-boiled eggs.

Cold as a frosted frog.

Cold as an ex-wife's heart.

Cold as a cast iron commode.

Cold as a banker's heart.

She's about as useful as buttons on a dishrag.

He's tougher than a two-dollar steak.

Happy as a puppy with two tails.

She’s got enough wrinkles to hold an eight-day rain.

That’s about as useful as a trap door on a canoe!

He’s busier than a one-legged man at a butt-kickin contest!

He’s so dumb he couldn’t piss his name in the snow.

That politician’s so crooked he could hide behind a cork screw!

That baby was so ugly the Doctor spanked the Momma!

She’s so ugly she’s got ten-foot pole marks all over her.

It’s rainin’ so hard it sounds like a cow pissing on a flat rock.

He’s so bad off, his eyes looked like two piss-holes in a snowbank.

Well butter my butt and call me a biscuit!

Her hair looks like it caught on fire and somebody put it out with a brick.

He couldn’t find his rear with his hands in his back pockets.

It’s raining so hard the animals are starting to pair up.

His pants were so tight that if he farted, he’d blow his boots off.

Raising kids is like being pecked to death by a chicken.

He’s so skinny, his pants had only one back pocket.

He was mean enough to hunt bears with a hickory switch.

He was ugly as a burnt boot.

Tougher than the back end of a shootin' gallery.

...Thank You, Dear Lord, for blessing me with being a Southerner.

•Photo taken near Spruce Pine, North Carolina

[allzelemonz]

Alley Rat: Micah Bell X Male Reader

Pronouns: None Mentioned, Reader is referred to as ‘boy’. Physical Sex: AMAB Rating: M/Near sexual encounter Warnings: Micah Bell is his own warning, Dutch is a dad that is annoyed with his kids, making out, flirting, kissing in a back alley, mild grinding Summary: Dutch kicks Micah out of a meeting in Saint Denis, now you’re in an alley with time to kill.

Dutch kicked Micah out of the meeting after one too many side comments and disagreements. He and Arthur stay behind to follow the lead on a job while you follow Micah out into the filthy alley of Saint Denis. Chatter and clatter fill your ears, only interrupted by the sound of a wooden crate hitting the wall after Micah kicks it out of frustration.

“Morgan don’t know a damn thing.” He sighs, hands resting on his hips.

“Does he ever?” You ask as you lean against the wall.

Micah watches you, then checks as a carriage passes by on the road. He makes up his mind quickly. No one will pay much attention, you’re too far down the alley. He uses his body to pin you against the wall, pressing his lips to yours with no hesitation. His hands grasp at the fabric of your shirt and he fixes his leg in between yours.

“Micah?” You ask when he pulls away.

His hat has tilted back on his head, so he takes it off and sets it on a mostly dry crate. “Just havin’ a little fun while our fearless leaders find us a way ta make money.”

“You’re gonna start something we can’t finish, Mister Bell.”

He hums. “That’s the idea, sweetheart.”

He presses his lips back to yours and you let your hands find their place on his waist, just above his belt. The buts of his guns dig into your stomach a bit as he presses up against you. His lips are chapped and rough as always and the hair on his face scratches in a way that makes your spine tingle. Micah presses your buttons perfectly. He knows how to get under peoples’ skin, be it for their pleasure, his own, or the annoyance of all. Most commonly it’s the third option.

You make a sharp noise against his mouth as he shifts his leg to rub against your already hardening dick. At the feeling, knowing exactly what he’s doing to you, he tugs at your shirt until he can get at your bare stomach. He presses his hands flat against your warm skin and you shutter from their cold contrast. He runs them up to your chest, then back down until his fingers threaten to dip under your gun belt. You lean into his touch and he responds with a small bite to your bottom lip.

“I can’t seem to take you boys anywhere.” Dutch says.

Micah sighs as he pulls away, letting you fix your shirt as he grabs his hat.

“Everywhere we go I end up findin’ you two glued together.” Dutch sighs. “Even in public, have some respect, boys.”

“Just a little fun, boss.” Micah says, rocking on his feet. “Ain’t like anybody's watchin’.”

You catch Arthur’s eyes, but he looks straight back at the ground.

Dutch sighs. “I would like, for just one outing, to not walk in on you boys.”

Arthur nods along.

“I love you boys, and I am happy that you are happy. But, for the love a’ God, just one outing.”

Micah chuckles. “I will try my best, boss.”

Dutch sighs again and begins to walk down the alley.

“No ya won’t.” Arthur mutters.

“You are damn right, Morgan.” Micah laughs, following Dutch.

“You know, if it didn’t bother you guys so much, he wouldn’t do it.” You smile as Arthur’s face turns a light shade of pink.

“I know.” He says. “But it’s Micah. How do ya stand ‘em?”

“That, Mister Morgan, is a mystery you get an answer to every time you find us like that.”

Arthur groans. “I-I don’t need ta hear about it.”

You laugh, starting to walk after Dutch and Micah. “Sorry, Arthur.”

“No ya ain’t.”

[pacifymebby]

My Bloody Valentine

Chapter One

Soft as Snow (but warm inside)

 I watched my breath condense in the air before me as I dawdled home beside my best friend's boyfriend. The October night had snook in suddenly with a chill that threatened frost and none of us were really dressed for the weather. 

Still, that didn't stop us from slow walking back along the main road trying to elongate the evening and preserve the last ten minutes of the night before we split at the cross roads and said goodnight. 

"Reet this is me by the way," I said holding back a little way from the lights. Shoving my hands into the pockets of my too big leather jacket to search for my cigarettes and a lighter, surveying the quiet roads and the warm glow of the streetlight flickering above us. 

"Oh shit," sighed Alys turning her head to take in her surroundings, finally realising where we were, "huh... You live closer than I remember..." She mused, sucking in her cheek as she turned to Johnny who looked just as surprised as she did. 

"Oh come on man..." I smirked at her dazed boyfriend, "you helped me move in like two months ago..." 

"Yeah..." He nodded rolling a cigarette between his fingers as he looked down the hill towards my house, "yeah I did didn't I..." 

"Yeah," I smirked shaking my head at them both in affectionate disbelief, trying to control my shivering. 

The chill hadn't been so bad when we'd been walking but now that we'd stopped I could feel the sting of the cold around my fingers. Inside my little ballet slippers my feet were being forced to regret the misjudged aesthetic id chosen to run with that night and I was beginning to grow inpatient for the warmth of my bed. 

We hadn't meant to stay out as late as we had, just one drink after Alys' birthday dinner, but of course one drink had done as it always does and several hours later we were all comfortably drunk, the last in the bar at kicking out time.

"Okay well I'll see you soon," said Alys throwing her arms around me, hugging me tight, promising that we'd see one another again before she went away. "Let me know when you get home safe... I know you won't but still..." 

"I'll try..." I smiled already guilty because we both knew I would forget. 

"See y'soon pet," yawned Johnny as he pulled me into a hug, rocking me dramatically from side to side before he let me go. "Don't try, do..."

I gave them a little salute as I stepped backwards into the road, one foot behind the other wobbling just a little as I shoved my hands back into the depths of my pockets and turned on my heel. I could hear their conversation fade as they walked away up the hill, leaving me alone to the quiet of the midnight street I wandered down. 

I took a cigarette of my own and lit it, captivated by the flame of my lighter as I flicked it on and off and on and off. It was pretty, the way it danced and flickered, licking at the tip of my cigarette. Pretty enough to distract me as I walked so that I wasn't really paying any attention to my surroundings. Wasn't really looking where I was going. Just dawdling the familiar route back to my flat on autopilot. 

I took a long drag on my cigarette and took pleasure in blowing out, watching the thin plume of smoke rise and dissipate into the night. 

I didn't notice anyone else on the street. Didn't notice the hoodie emerge from one of the alleys which connected the backs of all the restaurants and bars along the main road. Didn't notice their steps trailing mine. 

Not until it was too late. 

Not until their elbow was digging into my neck, one hand over my mouth, the other arm squeezing tight around my waist, lifting me just far enough from the floor for me to realise my helplessness. 

Even when it happened, even when the air had been snatched from my lungs so that screaming wasn't an option, I wasn't quite sure that it was really happening. 

"Give me your fuckin phone!" They growled, "your phone an your wallet yeah fuckin give me em now..." 

I tried to open my mouth to speak, panic gripping me when I realised that I still couldn't breathe. 

"I said give me your fuckin..." 

And then suddenly their grip went slack. Their arm went limp, their hand fell away from my mouth and my feet hit the floor as he let me go. 

I stumbled away from them, one foot tripping over the other from the momentum of my fall, turning just in time to see the hooded stranger shoved up against the wall by someone else. 

"Told you before mate," growled the stranger, the rest of his threat too hushed for me to hear as i stood watching in stunned silence. My saviour in a pair of black jeans and a t-shirt, effortlessly holding the hooded lad up off the floor by the neck of his shirt. He gave him a short sharp shake knocking his lolling head back against the concrete before sending him shoved into the street to scramble away. 

All I could do was stand and stare as the lad in the hoodie stumbled up the street, breaking out into a clumsy run and darting round a corner. He disappeared into the night just as quietly as he'd cut into it and as I gazed a little dizzied at the now empty patch of pavement he'd been stood, I pulled my jacket around my body a little tighter. 

"Are y'alreet Poppy?" 

I stood quietly, shivering with my arms wrapped tightly around myself. I wasn't exactly dazed just breathless. Stunned, my heart beating out of my chest, my senses working over time. 

It took me a second to realise what he'd said, the stranger who stood before me. He held one hand out to me, hesitant to take my arm and steady me. When I looked up at him closer however I was certain that's what he was, a stranger. 

"H..how do y'know my name?" I asked, trying not to stutter, failing miserably because now that he was so close to me it was him overwhelming my senses. 

He stood over me with one hand cupping my elbow, his body shielding me from the street. He was pale and his sharp features were unfamiliar to me, that I was certain of as I looked up into his brown eyes. They were dark, swallowing the light from the street lamp overhead, dark enough to send a shiver through me as I trembled beneath his touch. 

There was something about him which left me feeling weak, made it difficult to listen to the voice of reason in my head which told me to say thank you and flee as quickly as possible. 

"What?" he asked a small smirk tugging at his lips, "course I know your name," he said, brows tugging into an amused frown, "met before haven't we..." 

I mirrored his frown then, a cold wash of embarrassment rippling through me, sitting heavy and uncomfortable as a stone in my stomach as I looked up at him, studying his smirking expression desperate to recognise him and remember his name. 

"H...have we?" I asked softly, feeling guilty because if we had I really didn't remember him at all... and that struck me as odd because I was certain had I ever met him before I'd have remembered him - he wasn't exactly the kind of... "Oh..." I breathed softly as a name drifted into my head like a cork floating on the tide, "Sam?" 

I watched as his smile broke, grew wide and bright lighting those dark irises, leaving little creases in the corners of his eyes. 

"I'll put your forgetfulness down to the shock eh?" he asked shooting me a wink as he trailed his hand from my elbow down to my wrist, turning my palm up to reveal the keys I'd been clutching in my hands. The deep red imprints they'd left. His smile softened then, his fingers closing mine back around the keys, patting them closed and letting me go. It was strange, the way the absence of his touch left me feeling colder. How the sudden distance between us made me step forward, closing the gap between us again quicker than my brain could think to stop me embarrassing myself. 

He smirked down at me, pushing his dirty blonde hair from his face, scrunching it in his fist before letting it go. Reaching for my shoulder again. 

"Are y'alright Poppy?" he asked again, watched as this time I frowned again, shook my head. I closed my eyes for a second, my thoughts finally catching up to me, my confusion blurring every thought into the next so that it hurt to try and think about what had happened. 

"H... how did you... where did you come from?" I asked quietly, not the question I'd wanted to ask but the one I was left floundering with, a blush spreading across my cheeks as I shivered in the cold. 

"What dya mean where did I come from?" he chuckled gesturing vaguely across the street, "the offy like," he said holding a fresh packet of cigarettes up as if he needed to prove himself. Which of course he didn't because it had been a stupid question. 

"H... how did you..." 

"No offence poppet," he smirked cutting me off, stroking my shoulder with his thumb, "but a meant are you alright? Did he hurt ya?" he asked his words hushing me into a shy kind of quiet. I hadn't really thought about it, I'd been too shocked and then too relieved to consider whether I'd been hurt. 

"Uh," I caught my bottom lip between my teeth before I shrugged my shoulders and shook my head feeling exhaustion beginning to sneak up on me. "I don't know S...Sam..." in the back of my mind there was a hesitance to say his name, as if I still didn't quite believe that I knew him, "I don't think so.. I'm probably fine.. uh, thanks for.. I don't know..." I trailed off, blush burning my cheeks as I realised what I'd been about to say. 

"Savin you?" he asked brow raised, the way his smile felt like he was laughing at me only burning my blush deeper, "makes you sound like my damsel in distress that does..." 

I couldn't help but shy away then, tugging the sleeves of my jacket down over my hands, hugging my arms around my chest as I averted my gaze to the floor. 

"I..." I started, trailing off when he grinned again. 

"Long as you're alreet yeah?" he asked shocking me when he pushed my chin up with the side of his fingers, let his thumb linger on my jaw, "you're sure you're not hurt?" he asked again, his dark eyes locked with mine, making me think twice about my answer, making me want to be honest with him. 

"No," I said shaking my head, "no I'm fine Sam a promise... just.. just scared me I guess..." 

"Aye," he nodded, "am not surprised poppet," he said wrapping an arm around my shoulder steering me down the street towards my flat. I can only put it down to the shock, the shivers of adrenaline still racing through my body, senses wired, thoughts clouded, that I didn't stop to ask how he knew the way to my flat. 

"Don't wanna sound like 'yer da' lass, but what were y'doin walkin on y'own anyway like?" 

"I wasn't..." I said, losing my words to another blush, catching my thumb between my teeth when I realised what I'd said, "I mean... my friends were... I'd only just said goodbye to em and my flats like what, two minutes away... I guess I thought I'd be fine..." I said trying to defend myself, feeling suddenly like I needed to justify my mistake, "I walk this way all the time and it's usually..." 

"Fine?" he asked with a smirk, "y'know this end of towns proper rough lass, y'shouldn't be walking round at night alone.. specially not when you've been on the drink like..." 

"Wh.." I trailed off eyes widening as I turned my head away from him, mortified to think that he could smell the booze on my breath. I hadn't been that bad, we hadn't had that much...

"Don't look like that," he laughed, "were a lucky guess poppet, y'don't stink like a walkin brewery," he laughed at me, squeezing me back into his side where I'd tried to shrink away from him. 

"Wait.." I frowned, "if its so rough round here why were you out on your own?" my question only etching his smirk deeper. 

"Thats different," he shrugged. 

"Why cause you're a man?" I asked unimpressed eyebrow cocked, my confidence faltering when he grinned and shook his head. 

"No lass," he grinned but he didn't give me an answer, just trailed off, rubbed his hand over my shoulder and stopped walking. When I stopped too, looked up at the door we'd stopped in front of my breath caught in my throat. 

"Wait how... how do you know where I live?" I asked my brain fuzzing over with a sinister confusion, my heart beginning to race as that cold shiver ran through my body again. But when I turned away from my door back to him I found myself alone. Found myself frozen to the spot, shivering in the car park, thoughts jumbled in a cloudy panic as I starred at the empty car park, the quiet street. The shadows which were simply shadows. 

"Sam?" I called out, trying to keep the edge of fear from my voice, "Sam?" I asked again, a little louder though still only a mousy squeak as I fumbled with my house keys trying to find the right one to slip into the lock as quickly as I could. 

Because I hadn't been scared in his presence. Hadn't been scared to walk home with him. 

Was, in his absence, terrified. 

Suddenly I felt like the loneliest girl in the world. 

[mercurygray]

I remembered when you wrote this crackship the other day and im ngl I kinda miss them so ... "grace" for Molly and Andy !!

He didn't think he would ever quite get the hang of the end-of-term picnic.

These had been his people, once, the proud academics of the university, but that had been a long time ago, now, and he couldn't really count himself among thier number, even if he had married one of them. Truth be told, they weren't ever quite sure what to do with him - shuffle him along with the wives while they gossiped over the desserts or ask, half-heartedly, how things were at the high school. Their wars had looked different, too, spent in back rooms running cryptanalyis on stolen enemy signals, or right here at home, held back from service by bad eyes and flat feet.

She never had this kind of trouble at his faculty picnics - or at least, they'd never talked about it. But she could be cleverer about these kinds of things than he could.

He didn't fare much better with the students, either - though that could improve upon acquaintance. Because he'd be going with them, on whatever dig she had planned for the summer, chief cook and chaperone and housefather and whatever else Molly needed him to be for the day, or the week, or the month, all rolled into one. It was necessary that the summer's students know just who was in charge of them, and that had always, always included him.

He was just circling back to the buffet when he heard someone mention his name. "Who's the man in blue?"

"Oh, that's Doctor Mahoney's husband - Andy."

"Is he a teacher, too?"

"At the high schoool, I think."

"Is that a tattoo?" It was - peeking through the sleeve of his shirt, a fouled anchor with Molly's name in the rope. He'd gotten it a few years after they were married - about as close to a grand gesture as he could go. But why, she'd asked, tracing it with tender fingers. So the next time I take my shirt off they know I'm spoken for, he'd replied, murmuring into the crook of her shoulder. She could hide things better than he could, but sometimes he wanted people to know him - that he had been a marine, that he was married, that he stood for things. "Funny, I always thought he'd be - you know. Another academic."

And then, another comment he almost laughed about. "I never thought he'd be hot. Dr. Mahoney can pick 'em."

He tried to pretend like he hadn't heard and circled back to Molly, drifting in the shade of a tree and listening, half-heartedly, to yet another discussion on program funding.

She gave him a peck on the cheek and gracefully stole a carrot off his plate in greeting. That was a word for it, grace, the quality of being able to float effortlessly between one world and another, between teacher and student, mentor and friend, Molly and Doctor Mahoney. "Hello, handsome. What's doing?"

He could feel the eyes on them, confused and jealous and everything in between. "Your students think you have good taste in men."

"And I do," she confirmed with a grin. "Didn't need them to tell me, though."

[stitchthesewords]

👀 for quadrant AU or connection lost?

Some 👀👀quadrant/sector/i need to figure out a good name for this actually au for you Anon. [Also sorry this is so late, between new years and cleaning i havent been able to go digging to look for this in my documents! But - I found it!

---

“Tango – Tango! Calm down,” Impulse’s hands took Tango’s cheeks, and he winced as the heat bit into his skin, “breathe, hey, calm down. Jimmy’s fine. He’s okay.”

Tango did take a deep breath then. The fire which had stretched to over a foot tall slowly but surely shrunk back to its normal hair length. He was fine. Jimmy was fine. They were all fine. Of course, it didn’t feel like it, standing at the edge of a lava lake inside a lush cave with the sound of mobs everywhere. Tango couldn’t feel the heat. His eyes flickered over Impulse’s shoulder, or at least as much as they could. Impulse hunched over to be at eye level, and it was the only reason Tango could see over it.

Skizz crouched at Jimmy’s side. The other man laid flat on his back on the ground and Tango could hear soft sounds of pain coming from his mouth. He felt his body start to heat up again. “He’s not fine-“ Tango said, almost whining.

“He is. It just hurts. He just fell from like, 20 feet up. He’s okay, Tango,” Impulse said, squeezing his face even as Tango tried, again, to look at Jimmy. “I wouldn’t be standing here if he needed more care than he was getting. You need to calm down.”

Before Tango could reply, there was the squeak of a yell in the distance that drew both their attention as Zedaph narrowly missed Jimmy’s fate, a creeper explosion rattling the cave. One of Zed’s 4 arms swung a sword where the creature used to be standing, his entire face scrunched up in pain even though two of his arms managed to cover his ears.

Taglist Below - DM or Send and Ask to be added

@atherix @braxiatel @greatbridge @ellalily @lesbianwilby @em-mermaid @loombarrow

[phytochorion]

How the Forest Finds the Island

Chapter Eleven - Legend Has It

Sen and Si-woo touched down in the ginkgo grove.

"Need help planting them?", offered Si-woo.

"Ah, it's alright. I think I can manage," Sen reassured him, fluttering his hands in acknowledgement. "I need to work out a good spot to sow them. I'd rather not grow them too close to these ones. They won't compete that way, and it'll lessen the chance of disease."

"Wise choice," clucked Si-woo. "Well, best of luck. I'm off to spread these spores!"

He launched skyward, the little waving figure of Sen dwindling behind him.

⸙ ⸙ ⸙

Sen plonked down meditatively on the flat stone and drew up some plans within his head. To the west of him was the sea. To the east, approximately, was the fort. North, an open plain of low-lying plants stretched towards the mountains, encompassing some of the areas he and Si-woo had flown to. And south? He hadn't travelled much that way, except a few brief flyovers. Perhaps he could find a good planting spot there.

He had also to consider the request Jake had made of him, to plant some ginkgos around the fort. While Sen hadn't committed to anything, he felt that after being so lucky to receive a personalised gift from the admiral, he should share some of his good fortune. Besides, the Pioneers had welcomed him and his friends so warmly, he didn't wish to let them down.

Hopping to his feet and lifting the cask of treasured seeds, he spread his wings and took off. Soon his garden slipped out of view. Although it had seemed like a lengthy trek when he and his friends had walked to the fort, it was only a few minutes by air.

Landing on the scree slope near the woven construction, he couldn't see any activity. Approaching on foot, he spied the lone figure of Kai Namele, reclining in the sun.

"Afternoon, Kai," he called.

"Admiral! I wasn't- oh, Hi Sen. What's up?"

"I was coming to plant some ginkgos. Jake wanted more trees in this place."

"Oh yeah, oh yeah he mentioned!" Kai stood, whirling his considerable wingspan to balance. "Want any help with that?"

"Oh, would you? If you aren't busy, I'd be much obliged."

"Nah, I'm in no hurry. This is the first time I've been back on terra firma in who knows how long. I don't think Baegu plans to go to sea again for some time, so why not take it easy?"

They walked together in a wide circle, scoping out a suitable site. Sen noticed disturbed soil, evidence of recent plantings. It seems the Pioneers had roped a few others into their grand designs as well. They'd soon have the most diverse garden on the island.

Finding a good spot, they started to dig. Kai was remarkably strong, and even without magic, his coarse hands and toned arms moved hard-packed dirt like it was soft silt. As they worked, Kai talked. Sen, out of breath before he had dug even half as much, merely listened.

"Belek's a fantastic worker. Wouldn't think it to look at 'em, but they're strong, and probably the most sensible person on board, after the admiral, and maybe Cullodena. You must be proud to have such a cousin."

Sen nodded and brushed a strand of the supple lignin that composed his tresses behind one ear.

"I haven't seen Ellis for yonks. Remember Ellis? Sure ya do, it's only been a couple million years!"

"Anyhow, Jake got some of the crew to contribute to the grounds of the fort like you're doing. Then they dispersed to find nice spots for their own gardens. They should be back tonight, tomorrow at the latest. Baegu went back to the ship to make sure the bugs don't return."

"By himself?"

"Think he took Ponnarasu."

That reassured Sen. He knew Sirichai was sensible and well able to defend himself, but even so…

"I don't know how you do it," he admitted to Kai. "Flying overseas is one thing, but crossing them in a little wooden craft, even one as fine as the admiral's- well, it's my idea of a nightmare."

Kai smirked. "There's few fairies who'd disagree. We're creatures of the soil and sky, but the sea is an alien element. That said, there are some who dwell in the depths. And there's worse things out there than salt water."

"Like fire."

"True. Though my cycads are so gnarly they can sit out the fiercest inferno. They even evolved to spread their seeds in the blaze, bless their little hearts."

Sen was chuffed by the genuine emotion in his friend's voice.

"It's grazers and parasites that are really the thorn in your side, pun intended," continued Kai. "You ever met Veronica?"

"I'm going with no," said Sen, climbing up from the hole they'd dug and wiping his hands together.

"Nasty piece of work. Looks pretty innocent, but she's so damn- what's the word for that- unscrupulous. I feel like any time something goes wrong for me, she's the root cause."

"I know the feeling," Sen clucked sympathetically, thinking back to his own recent run-ins with parasites.

"Ok, we ready to cover these over?" Asked Kai, looking down at the seeds nestled in the dark ground.

"I'll impart a little magic," replied Sen, kneeling and focusing.

"Hm. Not much I can do, I'm afraid. My magic deals pain, not prosperity… oh! There is one thing!"

Kai adopted a wide stance. Closing his eyes and extending his hands, he projected magic into the soil below. Touching his head to the ground, Sen watched out of the corner of his eye as spongy, branching roots uncoiled from Kai's feet and disappeared underground.

Once Sen had gifted the plot with fertility and resilience, he sat up, intrigued by the shimmering motion of Kai's roots. The effect spread through his body, out to his hands, and, like dew on new leaves, pulsed out of his skin in lustrous droplets. Coalescing, they became a mirror-like orb which levitated between the fairies.

"Kai. What in the great green world is that?"

"Mercury. And I advise you take a few steps back, it's very toxic."

Sen hastily did as he was told. "Then what are you doing with it??"

"I'm doing you a favour, is what I'm doing. You'd rather I leave it in there with your plants? This whole island chain is volcanic, heavy metals accumulate in the soils. And believe me, you don't want them near your seeds."

"So what do we do with it?"

"I hadn't quite planned that far yet."

Sen massaged his temples. "So we have an ethereal, toxic sphere and nowhere to go?"

"Oh, hold up, I know! Sen, you can cover your seeds over, I'll get rid of this. I'll be gone awhile, you don't need to wait for me. See you when I see you!"

With that, Kai dashed off to the fort. Sen watched him go, shrugged, and carefully piled earth over the ginkgo seeds.

⸙ ⸙ ⸙

Continuing his quest, Sen lifted off from a gneissic ridge and glided south, to parts unknown. He scanned the terrain, looking for other spots with the sandy soil and plentiful water he desired. The land was, at first, similar to the fern prairie of the foothills, but the further he flew, the rockier and more barren it became. The topsoil would be too thin for trees, he suspected.

Up ahead, the ground dipped into a small gorge. Water trickled down the sides, while eroded regolith had accumulated on the valley floor. It looked promising, and he doubted he'd find much better out here. Just to be sure, he flew some distance more, but after seeing nothing but sharp crags, scrambling rhyniopsids and shallow, weedy pools, he swung around and returned to the gorge.

Fluttering gently down, his bifurcated wings acting as parachutes, his bare feet softly made contact with the cool, wet stones. Algae flourished here. It formed a pleasingly slimy layer beneath his feet, it hung in dripping pleats from the overhanging walls, it coloured the water in microscopic abundance.

Sen took a few steps onto the grainy grit, its crunch echoing dimly. He was, almost without realising it, holding his breath. The air was so still it felt a shame to disturb it.

Gently, he stole along the shaded ravine, mossy walls towering high above. Rounding a corner, the terrain opened up a little. There were a series of gravel pools where the dripping water had collected. Sunlight filled the sky.

A truly special place. And quite amenable for young ginkgos, Sen hoped. The banks of sandy till around the pools looked stable, and light should be sufficient, especially once the trees were a good height.

He paced up and down, finally settling on a patch of soft sediment by a small pool. He put the seed pod down, knelt and began to dig into the earth with his hands.

"Hiya," a voice behind him said.

Sen practically leapt out of his skin.

"Aiyaaaaa??! Who's what who where who's that?", he babbled, his wings buzzing so fast he nearly careened into the cliffside. Wresting back control of his body from his instincts, he cautiously descended to ground level.

A fairy with curling dreadlocks and a brightly patterned gilet had materialised as if from nowhere.

"Hey mon, nothing to be scared of," he said, raising his hands placatingly. "It's just me, ol' Wilbur."

"I…" Sen breathed through his nose. "Forgive me. I didn't know there was someone living here already. I can find another place to-"

"Oh, no worries," insisted Wilbur. "We haven't had anyone pass this way in I don't know how long." Looking back over his shoulder he shouted "Con! C'mere, some new guy just dropped in!"

Turning back to Sen, he shook his head. "Mind me asking your name?"

"Not at all. Gongsun Sen, at your service," he answered, bowing. Straightening up, he caught sight of another fairy emerging from a cleft in the rock. Striding over, he proffered a hand. "Con Ringarooma, at yours."

Sen shook hands, amazed by the strength of his grip, but moreso by his crown. It was the single most impressive adornment he had ever laid eyes on. Tall, pointing skyward and capped with perfectly spherical, smooth, almost luminescent capsules, while other fairies' crowns were functional, Con's was a work of art.

"Can I offer you some moss punch?", suggested Wilbur.

Sen blinked. "Pardon?"

"Moss punch! Come on, you'll love it."

"I suppose it's good to try new things," acquiesced Sen.

Wilbur clapped his hands and hustled back inside the narrow fissure, re-emerging with a basket of ingredients. As he mixed them, Con asked Sen where he'd come from. Sen told him of the grove, the fort, the admiral. Con listened impassively but attentively.

"And what of you, Mister Ringarooma? What plants do you nurture?"

"All of these." Con swung his arm slowly, encompassing the gorge. As Sen got his eye in, he began to notice just how richly festooned with moss it was.

"It's beautiful," he observed, and Con cracked a smile.

"Hey, don't give him all the credit!", interjected Wilbur. "What about these, huh?" He spread his arms to display a clump of luxurious ferns, sori sprinkling rich, reddish-brown spores on the moist ground.

"Very pretty," agreed Sen. "Though I think you should meet my friend Aliwen, I've never met a fairy who can grow ferns like her."

"Hmmph. You'll have to introduce me," answered Wilbur, hands on hips.

"Anyway, soup's up, enjoy." He handed Sen and Con each a spore cup full of sweet, gloopy liquid. Sen wasn't quite sure what to make of it, but had to admit it wasn't bad. Between slurps, he decided to press on with the reason he'd come here.

"So, Wilbur. Your hospitality is admirable, but I don't wish to impose. I'm planning on growing quite a few trees, and in this space I fear they'll shade out everything else."

Wilbur lay back, a tussock of moss for his pillow. "Not a problem. We're shade tolerant, eh?"

He elbowed Con.

"If we were any more shadow seeking, we'd be fungi," quipped the tall moss fairy.

"That settles it, then. Plant all the trees you please!"

"Thank you." Sen stood and bowed. "Your offer is very generous, and I shall make the most of it. I'll make a start now, before sundown."

"Need help?", asked Wilbur.

"Oh, you've done plenty, I can handle this," chirped Sen, face already smeared with mud.

"In that case, I'm gonna check out the fort you mentioned. Take care."

He sprinted down the gorge, leaping over one of the pools and gradually gaining altitude. Then he was gone. Con sat still for a while, then packed up the utensils.

Sen worked through the evening on his hands and knees, scooping a hollow for each lovingly placed seed. He used a small breath of magic to infuse the soil with life generating influence, but not as much as for the original grove. He'd trust Wilbur and Con to let him know if problems arose.

Looking up, Sen saw the myriad stars twinkling. He wiped transpiration from his brow, flexed his stiffening joints and headed to the cliff face.

"Con? I'm going now. Thank you again for letting me sow these."

Con's elegant crown protruded through the gap, followed by the rest of him.

"Think nothing of it, Gongsun Sen. You have been a most polite visitor."

"And you a most gracious host," chirped Sen. "I hope to return soon."

Stepping back with a small wave, he turned and in a single fluid motion lifted into the air. The journey back seemed quicker. He was less encumbered, the empty seed pod sitting easily in his grasp. And the sweet feeling of a homeward flight swelled in his chest.

Navigating by the stars and a few landmarks he recognized on the ground, he zeroed in on his grove and dropped lightly into the branches. Snuggling up in his welcoming nest, he embraced the comforting tide of sleep.

[ask-bluesman]

Marker doodles & new blog

It's been a while! (It's always "been a while"!)

I got to try alcohol-based markers for the first time. Doodled some stuff while listening to entire Pizza Tower soundtrack. Can you tell?

I've been curious about markers for a hot minute, but didn't necessarily want to invest in a new art supply and dragged my feet for the longest time. I finally bit the bullet during the Black Friday and Holiday sales. Sort of hoped I wouldn't like them, so they wouldn't take up my space or resources the same way watercolour stuff does. But for better or for worse, I quite love 'em!

First, the pros! I totally get why markers are very popular with so many artists. I definitely won't say they don't take a good while to master, but they are so easy and intuitive to use. Fun as heck too. Virtually all you need is a piece of paper & a good set of markers and you're ready to go. I really dig their clean, flat and graphic look. And they dry super quickly, my watercolour-programmed mind is constantly left pondering what kind of sorcery is that, haha. Same thing would take me a lot longer to paint!

Now, the cons. The amount of colours you need to be able to draw somewhat freely is astronomical. Even then, that particular colour you need may still be just "close enough" - whereas with watercolour, a good set of 12 or 24 colours will give you access to hundreds of hues. Markers don't mix the way paints do. They aren't super precise as they always bleed a little. They also aren't lightfast & fade rapidly when exposed to sun. And ouch, a big one for me: they can smudge the lineart pretty easily. You oughta be cautious!

The final verdict is that I still very much enjoy the rascals. I doubt anything will ever be able to dethrone watercolours for me, though! The champion remains unchallenged, yet markers have (thankfully) finally found their way into my little heart.

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

Oy! I also made a second blog for lesser quality posts... ahem, personal posts. They will probably be mostly about games, animation and maybe occasionally some random scribbles that aren't related to my characters. Either that or the blog will be promptly abandoned like 99% of everything I do, lmao. Click here to visit it!

[izzyfromdeadspace]

She felt relieved when he said he'd be coming with her. It always worried her when they shut her down to work on her. They could be doing anything and she'd never know it. There had been times after a service that she'd had to go to the clinic because her settings were off or her RIG had been pulled away from her skin and causing her to bleed out. These technicians could be real assholes. Knowing L would be looming over them making damn sure they didn't do anything set her mind at ease.

"Mom knows we've been on a mostly meat diet since we came home. She's gonna make plenty a meat dishes so ya should be able ta keep em down. Plus if ya don't wanna risk it I got some people jerky in my bag by the door." Curling up into his arms she sighed just letting him move her as he liked. It was still a bit of an unsettling thrill for him to pick her up like this. As soon as her feet left the floor her vision just became a flat wall of color and she lost what sight she had. Digging her hands into his shirt she held on until he sat dowm and cuddled her close.

"Well if ya got a bettah idea then I'm all ears. I know my drivin on my bike ain't always the best but I'm doin what I can. Ya know how bad my sights been since that fight with the hive mind." She sighed resting her cheek against his shoulder. Thinking for a moment she seemed to be going over their options. "Well we can tell ma. I know she won't rest till she knows the truth. Anyone else an we shouldn't say shit. Jus say yer from anotha colony but ya can't remember which one cause ya hit yer head or somethin like that."

Pulling up her display she began going over where they'd need to go and where in the city everything was located. The service station was off one of the main streets and there would be a lot of people just traveling around both in cars and walking. Showing L the screen she sighed. "This is where yer gonna need ta take me. There's gonna be a lot a people, a lotta humans, moving about an shit. We gotta play nice or we're gonna end up in a lotta trouble." Letting out a sigh it was obvious she was nervous. "The last time I got serviced they hurt me real bad. Ya know how the scars round my RIG are all angry an red? Was cause they tried pullin my tech out wantin ta sell it on the black market. Ma was with me that time but I still spent months in the hospital recoverin."

@a-drop-of-nightshade

Cassie just stared at the man her daughter had brought home. This was supposed to be a celebration of her being alive and safe but now she had to play hostess as well. Crossing her arms over her chest she tapped her nails against her robotic arm.

"So how did ya meet my daughta again? An jus who exactly are ya to her?"

[mirkwoodmunson]

meltdown

eddie munson x gn!y/n

2k words

sometimes the bullying is too much. sometimes eddie needs you to step in.

contains: aaaangst but then a lil fluff at the end ig so it’s ok, jason carver, hurt!eddie, pre-s4 tw: cursing, physical/verbal bullying, violence, meltdown a/n: companion piece to bad day. eddie's turn to have a rough time! disc: i do not give permission to share my content outside of tumblr; please reblog and do not repost; my content (even sfw) is not meant for minors; i am not responsible for the media you consume online.

“Piss off and juggle some balls,” Eddie snarls out, before abruptly getting slammed back into the side of his van, one of Jason’s basketball goons grabbing him by the vest, fists twisted into the denim and digging into his shoulders as he’s held against the vehicle.

He lets out a wheeze and then growls, attempts lashing out like a cornered animal but it only makes the jock pull him forward to slam him back again — harder — eliciting another gasp from Eddie as the wind is knocked from him a second time.

“You really shouldn’t litter, y’know,” the goon drawls smugly, as Jason Carver himself collects from the ground the pages of campaign material Eddie had dropped after being shoved into this altercation without warning. Material he’d been working on for the past three months.

Eddie’s eyes grow wide and panicked as Jason shuffles through them, the jock’s eyebrows furrowed and nose wrinkled, face twisted into a sneer to say ‘what the fuck am I looking at, weirdo??’

Eddie’s stomach drops, movement ceasing as he watches carefully.

“H-hey c’mon man, c’mon just drop ‘em, alright? Carver!”

The blond boy snorts, meeting Eddie’s pleading gaze with a careless one of his own.

“Sure, freak. Sure I’ll drop ‘em,” he coos.

Jason smiles, flat and ice-cold, and tears a neat rip right down the middle of the pages, Eddie immediately crying out angrily and squirming, distraught shouts only growing louder with every slow rriiiiippp Jason draws out for his own amusement.

He does eventually drop the pages — the small little squares he’d made out of them — lets them out of his hands slowly to flutter away in the breeze.

It’s gut-wrenching, the way Jason just grins in delight as Eddie furiously tries to break free, tries to thrust himself after Jason, tries to defend himself — but all his efforts earn him is a swift punch to the gut from the goon holding him.

Eddie doubles over with a huff and blinks rapidly as his vision explodes with color, lungs sputtering and stinging as he tries to chase a deep breath of air that they can’t hold with their ache, arms wrapped around his middle as he starts to sink to the ground.

He can hear nimble, quick-paced footsteps, someone running towards the trio, but in his position he doesn’t see you come up right behind Jason with your arms thrown back, hears you but doesn’t see as you cry out in a blind rage and swing your book bag with full might into the side of Jason Carver’s head.

He misses getting to see Jason practically soar to the ground, but he does see him flounder on the pavement, eyes wide in his startled panic, holding his head and trying to place his attacker.

You keep screaming, wildly swinging your heavy bag, taking a defensive stance in front of Eddie who’s still holding his abdomen, curled into himself and coughing.

“FUCK OFF YOU ROTTING PIECES OF DOG-SHIT!! GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM HIM!! GET — AWAY!! I’LL FUCKING SHOVE MY FOOT SO FAR UP YOUR ASS, JASON CARVER; SO FAR YOUR OWN MOTHER IS GONNA TASTE THE SOLE!!”

You get a few more good whacks in, making Jason and his goon stumble as the latter helps the former to his feet, trying to keep him steady as they gather themselves and attempt a hasty retreat.

“FUCKING FREAKS!” The goon throws over his shoulder before they both break into a run, Jason stumbling a bit and struggling with his footing.

As soon as they’re focused on high-tailing it out of there you drop your bag and sink to your knees in front of Eddie’s huddled figure, the boy still pulling in deep breaths that squeal with a wheeze in between his coughs.

“Eds?? Eddie baby, lookit me, look here,” you cup his cheeks and gently lift his head, pushing curls away from his face to give him room to breathe and checking for any other injuries; your stomach drops when he slowly looks up with your encouragement, his bottom lip quivering as he tries to keep the tears restrained but a few of them have already fallen down his rosy cheeks. He looks up, but avoids your intense, concerned gaze.

“Oh, Eddie… sweetie, come on, you gotta get up; I got you, c’mon…” you sigh gently and pull one of his arms around your shoulders, carefully lifting him with you. He leans into you and lets out a soft whine, his other arm tightly wrapped against his middle, letting you maneuver him.

“Keep doing those deep breaths, babe, you got it… it’s alright you got it… c’mon, m'gonna take you home, okay? It’s alright…”

Your voice keeps him docile, keeps him calm, keeps him focused and breathing and moving. He wants to hide, wants to be in the quiet dark, wants to crawl away with you so he lets you guide him to the passenger side of his van and into the seat. As soon as you close his door he leans his arms up on the dash and buries his head in them, shoulders heaving.

Your heart sinks to your feet and you breathe out slowly.

“I’m gonna fucking kill that piece of shit…” You spit under your breath, glancing back at the school. You take a few minutes to gather whatever scraps of Eddie's campaign you can find -- whatever hasn't already blown away -- tucking them into your bookbag as you scoop it up along with the rest of Eddie's things. You walk around to the driver's side of the van, hopping up into the seat.

Eddie tries to calm down when he hears you come in, looks away and lifts his shirt to swipe over his face, a quick successions of sniffles. You can see him tremble, errant hairs shivering, the way his hands moved almost frantically, body rigid and vibrating with adrenaline.

You set your bag in the back and then just sit silent for a bit. Letting Eddie have his time to quietly vent the steam while he tries to hide it from you — huddled away and trying to collect himself before you press for info or speak up again.

When he’s down to just heavy breaths, you reach over and slowly stroke his arm, testing the waters. They’re lukewarm and still, and Eddie just sits and lets you comfort him.

“Are you okay, Eds?" 'Silly question,' you think, 'of course he's not okay.'

"Do- …d’you wanna, talk about it?”

Eddie does a big shrug and huffs, looking into his lap while fiddling with his rings absently. He sniffles, swipes a sleeve against his nose, shaking his head a little.

“What’s there to talk about.” His voice is raspy and soft, stating it plainly; he still wheezes softly. You wince and withdraw your hand.

“Same shit as always. Bunch’a fuckin' little shits ganging up on someone bigger to feel tough.”

The quiet settles over you again.

And then you jump in your seat, when Eddie begins punching the dash in front of him, practically screaming,

“SAME FUCKING SHIT!! IT’S THE SAME — FUCKING — SHIT!! EVERY — FUCKING — DAY — OF MY LIIIFE!!”

He’s punching with each word, choking on a sob with every pained breath, and then he’s just shouting at the end, fists digging into his thighs as he strains with the force of his bellowing, face red and wet.

You just freeze and go quiet, eyes glued down onto your hands in your lap, flinching with the punches and closing your eyes when he yells.

He breaks off with a sob and rakes fingers into his tangled hair — you hear strands snap — tugging against the roots as he cries deep from his aching belly, rasping with each breath.

“It doesn’t stop!! It doesn’t stop it doesn’t stop it doesn’t—“

He stomps his foot, pulling his hair — he was so strained just sitting in place, groaning and crying and shifting irritably like he needed to do something, needed to move. Something angry and red and sad and tired was trying to break free, pushing at his seams, and it frustrated him that all he could do was just cry. He felt itchy and tight in his skin.

It wasn’t often, but you had seen him like this a few times before. When it got too be too much for him to hide with a grin and lame joke, too much to tuck away into the attic of his mind.

It was the ones that smiled the easiest, it seemed, that had the most they wanted to hide.

Grin and bear it.

It broke your heart every time. How could it not?

Eddie was such a strong person, his will unmatched and pride hung high — not proud, per se, but very aware of how bright he shone, and more than happy to shed that light. Happy to stand strong and be that person everyone saw him as — that you saw him as — untouchable, unwavering, mighty.

Eddie the Brave.

It broke your heart to see that light flicker and go out, even if only momentarily. Broke your heart to see Eddie — who was always the one to comfort and protect you — need comfort and protection himself.

But every light needs tending to stay lit. The flames may go out but they can be fanned into a roar once more.

Eddie would always help you pick up your pieces, you would always be there to help him pick up his.

He sits rigid in his seat with his palms cupped over his face, muffling the cries and sniffles, hiding the tears that fell freely — hid them till they were trickling down his wrists and dripping from his chin.

“Eddie…sweetheart…” Just the warmth, tenderness, of your voice makes his shoulders slump, quivering with the force of the next few sobs as his muscles struggle to keep taught.

“Baby c’mere,” you soothe, reaching to him and carefully sliding a hand around his wrist. You pull it away, and he lets you guide him towards you slowly. You lift his hand and bring it up and around your shoulder, and Eddie leans in with it and puts his other arm around you as well, now crying freely against your shoulder as he sinks into your awaiting arms and lets the meltdown run its course as you comfort him.

"I'm sick of it, y/n! I'm-I'm fuckin' sick of it!"

You tuck your face into brown curls, let your eyes slide closed as you murmur calming shushes, hand smoothing slow, deep circles into his back, gently grazing with your fingertips; other hand clutching tight to the scruff of his shirt, holding Eddie to you dearly.

"I know. I know, Eds..."

It's all you can say. Nothing would really make it any better right now, he just needed to let it out, just needed a moment to be comforted and told 'yes. you're right, Eddie. It does fucking suck. But you'll be okay.'

After a while he's more responsive -- quieted down -- rubbing your back as well and self-soothingly brushing his cheek against the shoulder of your soft, warm shirt, just under your collarbone. Listening to your heartbeat, letting that ground him.

You press nuzzled kisses into his hair, against his forehead and temple and the bridge of his nose, which makes him smile and crinkle it sweetly.

He leans up slowly in his seat while you keep a hand pressed to his back, watching him orient himself and rub his eyes, trying to physically wipe away the thoughts swarming over the incident. He smooths his palms into his thighs, over and over, a slow and soothing gesture. Breathes deep and exhales, still wheezing a little, still aching, but now mostly just tired.

"...can you, stay over tonight?" Eddie croaks just above a whisper, finally meeting your eye.

You smile and nod, holding up the hand you'd had on his back.

He smiles too, soft and weary, fishes the keys out of his pocket and drops them into your palm.

Your gaze shifts to the little keychain attached to them, a clear plastic heart that holds a tiny cutout picture of the two of you from a photo booth, giggly and excited after seeing The Return of the Living Dead.

“I can help you fix the campaign! You’ve been working so hard on it.”

You start up the van, Eddie squeezes your thigh -- a silent 'thank you,' and you head off towards Forest Hills.

[danses-with-dogmeat]

⚛💣 “Shit, I think I’m in love with them.” for the Ben-Man perhaps 👀

YESSSSS we LOVE writing for Benny. Hopefully any of this is legible. I get kinda carried away with the way this wacky man talks...

This is SFW too, btw 😊

"You're not gonna be too long, right baby?"

"No, baby." You insisted, running a hand up over Benny's collar as he grasped desperately to your hips.

"Don't you lie to me. Don't you do it. Tell me when you're gonna be back, let me hear it leave those pretty petal lips o' yours."

He pleaded, his eyebrows scrunching up just the right way to make you feel sorry for him, and you frowned comically, making your own version of puppy eyes in return.

"I'll be back before five." You told him, rubbing your hand over the soft hairs on the nape of his neck, "Then maybe we can do dinner or something, hm?"

"Nah, my sweet honeysuckle pie, that's too flat for my sultry squeeze. We're gonna do a whole lot more than dinner." He jerked you closer to him, and you found your hands instinctively going to his shoulders to steady yourself before he began to sway you back and forth.

"Benny, I've gotta--" You tried, knowing full well how late you were gonna be if he started a dance here and now.

"I'm gonna take you out on the town, up and down the whole strip. We're gonna swing and gab and come back and feast like The King himself. Ya dig that, baby?"

"I do, honey, I dig," You reluctantly pulled away with another sad smile, feeling the tips of his fingers drag helplessly over the fabric of your clothes as you separated from him, "But I've really gotta go, baby. I'll be back. 5 o'clock!"

"When the clock strikes a pentamerous hour, I'll be expectin' you, doll!

He called after you with a hand to his lips as you finally pushed through the doors, and you set off down the strip.

Benny watched you go, a longing in his eyes that his mind refused to properly acknowledge. He huffed, and turned back to the casino floor, shuffling his feet as he headed toward the bar.

"Six has got you shackled now, do they?"

Swank's voice stopped him in his tracks, his gaze smug as he pushed a full glass of amber liquid towards his boss.

"Well, it ain't too official, but I've-- Wait a jiff... You ain't sayin'--"

"Don't kid yourself, boss, they've got you lookin' at 'em the way a Freeside kid eyes a rat."

"Aw, go an' dry up, Swank."

"I'm bein' serious. You're lookin' at 'em like if they get away you'll just keel over an' die."

Benny took a gulp of his drink, a grimace on his face from more than just the bite of the strong Manhattan.

"You're talkin' mad." He said quietly, his voice dry from the alcohol. "Jus' a new fling, ya dig? 'S all it is..."

"Whatever you say, boss. All I know is... Naaah, nevermind, I'll leave ya be."

Swank went to turn away from him, to step fully back behind the greeting counter once more, but Benny's grasp on his shoulder held the man in place.

"What is it you know, huh?"

"All I know is... You've never been this way before. Never seen you act like this. I known you a long time, right?"

"Yeah..."

"Yeah. An' I ain't never seen a cat like this make you go so crazy. You want my opinion? I think you love the broad/bloke."

Benny's hand froze, grasping too tightly at Swank's shoulder as the world seemed to haze in and out of focus around him. His mind was fuzzy, his ear were ringing like some boxer knocked him over the head, but most of all, Benny's chest gave a painful and definitive throb at even the thought of associating that word with his Six.

"Sock my fuckin' dollager..." Benny breathed, eyes wide as his hand crumpled and fell from his friend's shoulder. He took a step back and set down his drink on the counter as one hand came up to his forehead in utter disbelief. "I think you might just be on the spot... I think I'm in love with them."

[vex-bittys]

Flufftober 2020: Day Sixteen

Prompt: Kemonomimi

Pairing: Fellswap Muffans (and some Muffyrus)

Category: Familial

Note: That’s right, I am going to complete Flufftober! It’s 2 years later, but it’s happening!

----------

Young monsters wear stripes. In more peaceful universes, these simply help identify a monster's age. In dangerous universes where monsters lie, steal, and dust to get ahead, stripes provide a modicum of protection for children. After all, who is going to waste magic bullets for such a meager amount of EXP?

Once a monster's animal ears and tail appear, all bets (and stripes) are off. The badge of adulthood told other monsters exactly how much EXP and trouble a monster was worth. Predator ears and tails warned potential attackers of their victim's power and intent. Prey ears and tails loudly broadcast an opportunity for a quick, safe stat boost.

So far Mutt's sharp wolf ears and Raspberry’s striped sweaters had served the pair well, but Mutt began to lose sleep to a gut-churning mixture of hope and worry as Raspberry teetered on the cusp of graduation from stripes to ears. What form would his undersized brother's ears and tail take?

Please let them be something suitably intimidating, Mutt pleaded to whatever unseen power might be listening to the desperate prayers of monsters in their stars-forsaken Underground, though none had answered him yet. I just want him to be safe.

Mutt awoke to the sound of his brother wailing. The normally lackadaisical skeleton leapt to his feet in an instant, bone attacks at the ready, wolf ears twitching to pinpoint Raspberry’s exact location. Right outside his bedroom door? Weird, but convenient. 

Mutt opened the door, ready to deliver some well-deserved brotherly teasing, but the sight before him froze his SOUL in his chest. There, atop his brother’s skull (and ridiculously easy for him to see from his superior height) sat a pair of oversized, floppy rabbit ears. Mutt didn't bother checking his brother’s tail; the ears alone were a death sentence. He stood speechless, his little brother staring at him with wide, desperate eyelights.

"I HAVE FLOPPY BUNNY EARS," wailed Raspberry unnecessarily when his brother hesitated.

Mutt fumbled for some reassurance to give him. "maybe they'll stand up if you give 'em time?" The words fell flat, and both skeletons knew it.

"THEY'RE BUNNY EARS." Hysterical tears overflowed Raspberry’s sockets. He looked pathetic in his plain, unadorned adult shirt and drooping ears, exactly the kind of appearance that screamed EXP fodder. Turning away from his unhelpful brother, Raspberry dashed down the stairs… and out the front door.

Shit.

Not bothering to throw anything on over his “tank top and boxers” sleepwear ensemble, Mutt followed.

-

Muffet just wanted to get the tabletops in her bar scrubbed down before she opened for business, but the commotion taking place outside her door caused her elegant lynx ears to flatten in irritation. With a sigh, she abandoned further cleaning in favor of going outside to teach some noisy hooligans a lesson. Instead of the expected hooligans, the spider monster found skeletons, skeletons she grudgingly admitted to being quite fond of, surrounded by a mob of EXP hungry attackers.

The first time she'd laid (all five) eyes on the skeletons, Mutt had been digging in the dumpster behind her restaurant, the tiniest of babybones tucked under his worn striped sweater for warmth. Realizing he'd been caught, he bravely stood his ground. He only had one request, and it wasn't MERCY for himself.

"you c'n dust me if y'want, but please don't hurt my little bro."

He pulled the babybones out from under his shirt, just a tiny skull visible from the tightly swaddled maroon blanket that he now wore as a bandana. Little Raspberry was fast asleep, exhausted by cold and hunger.

So she fed them. 

And she let them move into a house she owned in Snowdin. 

And if she happened to "find" spider silk garments in exactly their respective sizes as they grew up, who dared to question it? The skeleton brothers were orphans, after all.

Her orphans.

The older skeleton brother, Mutt, pushed his younger brother behind him, but not before Muffet spotted the source of the problem. Poor little Raspberry had sprouted a damning pair of lop bunny ears overnight. Magic crackled in the air, but it dissipated as soon as Muffet stepped outside onto the snow covered street. Her reputation alone forced the assailants to take a collective step back.

Pretending not to notice the deference,  Muffet strode over to the pair of skeletons. Standing next to Raspberry, she stroked the soft magic of one of his ears. In a voice that carried to the entire crowd, she complimented him.

"Ahuhuhu, I haven't seen such elegant Boss monster ears since Queen Toriel stopped visiting! You'll achieve great things with ears like those, I'd bet my restaurant on it!"

After her words faded, Muffet fixed each monster in the crowd with a baleful five-eyed glare, the tufts on her lynx ears giving her an impressive height and providing the crowd with a spectacular view of her wicked fangs. The unspoken statement rang out crystal clear: these young skeletons were under Muffet's protection, and her ruthlessness far outweighed the damage done by having an adorable pair of lop bunny ears, even with the little cotton ball tail to match.

READ ON AO3

DAY FIFTEEN | INDEX | DAY SEVENTEEN

[hotwings0203]

Bully!Dabi pt. 3

Tags: @shikamaruscumrag @pinkiy13l @an-ambivalent @luno614 @sukunasleftkneecap

Tw:dubcon, noncon, bullying, manipulation, Russian roulette

“Doll? Come on out and I won’t hurt you too bad.”

You wait with bated breath as he walks right past your hiding place behind some crates, blue fire licking up the sides of his body and held in the palms of his scarred hands.

He’s mad, you know he is. He’s teasing you, of course he is, why else wouldn’t he just turn on the lights and pounce?

No, this is another punishment of sorts. A punishment for escaping your previous punishment from being locked in your room.

Another lash of burning cobalt strikes against a wall about 10 feet away from you, and you curse yourself internally. If only you had just stayed in bed a couple days more, if only you hadn’t snuck out when he left, if only, if only…

“Baaaabbyyyyy”

It sounds so wrong and uncharacteristic coming out from his gravely voice.

You huddle your limbs even closer to yourself, paying no mind to the cramping in your knees from being squished for so long.

It’s been about 25 minutes or so from what you can remember. It’s hard to remember anything that happened this bland morning anyways when the climax of your life was seemingly taking place here, after you entered the wrong room.

You had honestly just wanted a peek outside of Dabi’s room and maybe a drink of water, nothing more.

Or so you tell yourself.

But can you really be blamed? Who else wouldn’t have run out the moment they got a chance after spending almost two weeks in the same shitty room, being used as fuckmeat and only given bread scraps and salty cum as meals.

It didn’t matter how close he held you at night, how his strokes seemed to brush up against all the right places, how he tried catching your eye every time he wanted to talk about anything (which you would never really indulge in, only giving him a soft grunt or a nod). He was a monster, a demon in disguise that was keeping you against your will in his clutches.

A loud crash closer than before hits your ears, and you stifle an impending whimper. You can tell he’s roamed closer than before, finding nothing from his earlier place in the front of the storage room.

“I’m getting pretty fucking tired of repeating myself doll. You must be even more of a masochist than I thought since it’s like you want me to fuck you up even worse than I did before.”

His words are quiet but they do enough to cause a loud beating in your already-pacing heart, so loud in fact that you fear he can hear it racing a mile a minute.

You wonder if anyone is nearby, if they even remember you’ve been missing for a while now.

“Y/N”

“Come out, pretty girl. You know I miss you”

But you don’t miss him.

What you do miss, however, is not being chased into an empty storage room and hounded like a fucking dog. You miss joking with Twice, painting your nails with Toga, making Shigaraki chuckle.

All of a sudden, the crate next to you is covered with hellfire. The flames that are thrust from Dabi’s hands are so wild that they seat through your shirt and prick your skin.

You scream and scrabble backwards, the light of his fire illuminating his face leering up above you in the dark like a ghoul from a children’s book.

You clap your hands over your mouth, ignoring your bubbling skin as fear overrides premonition, but the damage has already been done.

It’s eerily quiet for a minute. Then, he whispers,

“Found you”

Even in the pitch black room you can practically see him lunging towards you, and you scuttle backwards on your hands and feet in terror. His hands miss your bare feet by a few inches, and he snarls before making another swipe.

“Fucking bitch, this is the thanks I get for taking care of you, bathing you, feeding and fucking you?”

You yelp as he lights up the floor on both sides of your trembling body, and you see his figure once more as the blue fire shows the sick grin twisted up on his face.

“Leave me alone,” you sob, clambering up on your feet and running backwards as he advances on you. The smoke from his quirk is filling the room, and you erupt in hoarse coughs as it’s filtered through your aching lungs.

Everything about him is toxic.

“Nah. That’s not how this works sweetheart. You see, I take care of you, and in return, you do whatever the fuck I say when I say it.”

He raises his palms to you and you flinch, covering your head and colliding with the wall behind you. You’re too scared and tired to evade him again as you feel his body cover you and brush against yours as you shake in place, your arms still above your face.

He cooes at you. “There there, my stupid little bitch. You were scared daddy was gonna hurt you, right?”

His stitched palm caresses your bitten bottom lip and trails up to your tear-stained cheek.

After a moment of you saying nothing, he slaps the side of your face, hard, and you gasp in pain. Now it wasn’t just your stomach that felt on fire.

“I asked you a question, you brain dead whore. Are you scared daddy’s gonna burn you? ‘You scared he’s gonna beat you black you blue? ‘Scared he’s gonna cut a gaping hole in your burnt tummy and fuck the gash?” He leans in and lets his raspy words settle over your ears as he tenderly brushes your hair away from it. He softly kisses the shell of you ear, and when you sob quietly he wraps his arms around your middle and hugs you close, paying no heed to how you uncomfortably squirm when your raw torso burns from the contact.

You squeeze your eyes shut and try not to inhale too much, lest the smoke embedded all over his body gets too close for comfort in your system.

“Y-yes daddy. Please don’t hurt me, I was…a bad girl.” You cringe when the words are wobbled out, but you know it’s what he wants.

To humiliate you, to hurt you. Who was he kidding when he said he loved you?

Dabi, however, feels butterflies in his own stomach.

See, this is what you need. To answer to Daddy, to submit to him so that he can take care of you. That’s why you stayed so long in his room, right? It’s cause you knew it would make him happy if you listened to him. You let him make love to you, and treat you like his little girl because deep down, you know this is where you belong.

So why are you fighting him? You never raised a complaint for a week and a half, you only stayed quiet and kept your eyes shut when he asked if you were okay. That means you liked it, right? No real opposition, after all.

Except for now.

Dani is honestly disappointed in you right now, you were doing so well…so why’d you have to go and ruin it?

He might’ve softened from the way your body shakes and your sobs are muffled by his smoke-scorched jacket as you press against him for comfort, but the image of you turning around and running away when you saw him earlier hurts him too much.

It angers him.

Why the fuck were you so scared? Hasnt he shown you enough that he loved you? What, does he need to fucking spell it out for you?

Why were your eyes filled with such terror when he caught you? Did you turn away from him and run because you thought he was going to make you look like him, all burnt up and hideous?

Honestly, he would never, but if you’re so hellbent on making him the bad guy, then fine, he’ll play the bad guy.

Anything for his precious little girl.

And so he tightens his arms around you and chuckles cruelly when you whine at the lack of air.

“Well, you were right. I am pretty pissed, I mean I told you to come out and you didn’t listen right?”

“S-sorry,” you weakly choke out.

He laughs even more crazed now, crushing your ribs so tight he could actually hear your breath wheezing out of you, could feel your weak little punches against his back.

“Sorry isn’t going to cut it. No no, I want you to beg for your fucking life now.”

Your eyes widen as his arms begin to warm up and become unbearably hot.

“Dabi, no, no please!”

You writhe in pain as he cackles above you, savoring the choked breaths that emit from your wetted lips.

As soon as you begin to see spots, he releases you, and flings you against the corner of the room.

You go flying and bang your head against the concrete wall, his voice muted and swimming around in your ears as you fight for consciousness.

He saunters towards you in all his flaming glory, hands in his pockets as if he were walking out for some fresh air. He crouches in front of you and lifts your head with the pads of his fingers.

“Awww, my poor little girl. That had to have hurt, huh? You’re bleeding,” he cooes and blows a strand of hair away from your eyes.

He’s not lying, you can feel hot blood trickle down the side of your head as your vision sways.

“Stop this,” you pant. “I get it, I’m sorry- you were right and I was wrong, I shouldn’t have ran. I’ll listen to you from now on-“

“-But you said that last time, didn’t you?” He cocks his head and with the light of his turquoise fire against the shadows of the room, he looks like a being from hell itself.

“Remember? When you sucked me off like the dirty whore you are? Remember that you stupid cunt?” His grin becomes more reminiscent of a wolf baring its fangs, and you’re rendered silent in complete terror.

He takes your silence as an encouraging factor to continue his fun.

“You ever played Russian Roulette, Y/N?”

You have enough sense to quickly shake your head, a sinking feeling in your stomach forming at his implication.

“Me neither. But I kinda wanna try it right now. So, back against the wall. Stand up straight and spread your legs.”

You look at him incredulously. “You can’t be serious Dabi.”

He raises an eyebrow and a fire grows in the palm of his hand. “Wanna find out? Oh wait, you already are- now do what I said otherwise you’ll have one less leg.”

You don’t need more motivation to act on his orders.

Taking a deep breath, you hesitantly spread your legs and place your palms flat against the wall.

“Spread ‘em more. That shouldn’t be anything new to you.”

You wince at his dig but continue to widen the stance between your legs.

He smiles at your compliance.

“Good. This should be fairly easy, I mean the room is already dark enough to count as having a blindfold. Whatever you do, just don’t move.”

You wouldn’t know it, but he’s sincerely saying it for your sake. He’s glad for the safety of the dark, because he doesn’t want you to see the way he hastily wiped his sweaty palms on his jeans as he prepares himself for his next move.

The room goes dark, his fire has been put out.

You inhale softly, blood pounding in your heart as your hands shake in anticipation.

Then all of a sudden, a fireball comes barreling right towards you, in between your parted legs.

You shriek and jerk, but luckily you’re saved from being singed.

“I told you not to move, babe.” He clicks his tongue and rubs his erection absentmindedly.

A second, then third bolt of fire comes at the side of your head, singing your hair and then dangerously close to your already burnt stomach.

At each one you sob and do your best not to move, not to take in Dabi’s utterly emotionless face as you wail for mercy.

The last one comes so powerful that as it strikes the wall next to you, flecks of ash sting your cheeks and lips.

Your knees are jelly, your mouth is aching from begging for your life as he wanted.

But you know he’s done when he lets out a loud yawn and groan as he stretches his arm and flexes his fingers.

“A-are we done?” You sniffle.

He says nothing at first. You just hear him ask a couple steps towards you, his boots echoing in the room. You assume he stops in front of you because you can feel his body in front of your kneeling figure.

His hand descends and feels around until he reaches the top of your head. Stroking softly, he twirls locks through his fingers and gently shushes you until your hiccups subside, and you lean your forehead against his thigh.

“‘You happy it’s done? You did so well for me, sweetheart.”

“Yes Dabi. Thank you,” you utter softly, knowing it’s what he wants to hear.

“Yeah? How thankful are you?”

You still at that.

He starts to unbuckle his belt.

You pull your head back, and he pulls his pants down.

“Dabi-“

“Shhh, don’t ruin this. Just keep your mouth shut and let your body do the talking. Show me how grateful you are that I spared your fucking life.”

The gentle way he handled you clashed with his harsh words, and you have a moment of whiplash.

He kneels down in front of you and lets his hands wander in the dark until he meets your torso.

You hiss at the sensitive flesh, but he doesn’t stop. He just moves his hand under your shirt and higher, pushing your bra up until your tits spill from the bottom of it.

He bites his lip as you whimper from his touch, his thumbs swirling around your nipples and prodding the squishy flesh.

Dabi gets more eager when you throw your head back at one particularly rough squeeze and shuffles even closer, his pants and underwear at his knees, member bouncing out in the open air.

“Take your panties off,” he rasps, furiously stroking his cock.

You surrender and slowly pull your sweats off, and then your panties as you hear him lightly panting in eagerness.

The second he hears them drop to the floor he lunges for your feet and yanks your forward, catching you in his lap as you yelp.

It’s pitch black, but he can feel you clear as day.

The tickle of your hair hanging in his face, your sweet smell clouding his rationale, the melodious sounds of fear and pleasure mixed with pain make his prick stand painfully at attention, weeping at the slit for your pussy.

He doesn’t even bother taking your shirt off in impatience, he simply barks at you to hold the hem up so he can feel your breasts bouncing against his face when he motorboats them.

You, however, shakily hold his hand at your waist when he pulls you forward until your bare hole presses against his length, coating it with light juices.

“Oh fuck, doll, your pussy’s practically begging me to fuck it. ‘You like having your life in danger? No wonder you keep fucking up,” he groans as he moved beneath you, letting his hips rock back and forth to gain friction from under you.

“Wait, go slowly-“

“No the fuck I won’t,” he interrupts. You have enough sense to bite back any retorts from the subtle growl in his words.

He lifts you up from underneath your ass, and you raise your hips in compliance as he grabs his dick, circling it around your swollen nub and then pressing it against your entrance.

You breath shakily and run your hands through his hair, not so much in a loving gesture but tightly in futile hopes to deter him in any possible way.

He takes it either way as you wanting him equally, and without further ado he slams your hips down on his whole length.

You howl in pain as he begins bouncing you, pressing down on your shoulders and forcing your poor cunt to envelope him fully at each stroke.

The room is filled with the lewd sounds of your ass clapping on his dick, the mixed fluids from both of your bodies and the harmonies of his low grunts and your high pitched whines.

You can feel his dick twitch violently inside of you as he nears his climax. He flips you over on your back and starts pounding into you, laughing cruelly in your face as you cry out from the intensity of his strokes.

“D-Dabi! Pull out, I’m not on birth control!”

“Good.”

You open your eyes to stare at him in horror, barely making out the marred features of his face.

“I’m gonna fill you up with my babies. You’re gonna be plugged with my cum from now on, ‘s the only way you’ll stop running.”

“Get the fuck off me, this isn’t funny-!”

He grabs your rising fists and pins them back against the floor, crushing your wrists in the process.

“Who said I’m laughing?” And he isn’t laughing anymore, no, on the contrary he looks the most serious that he’s ever been, and that terrifies you the most.

The upper half of his body is suspended in midair above you as his pelvis smashes against your clit in a steady rhythm.

“‘Bet you’d like that, bet you’d like having all your holes stuffed with my kids. They’re gonna grow up and know how slutty their mommy was, they’re gonna watch and learn how Daddy earned his name. You think they’ll cry when they hear you scream for me?”

You want to rip out your ears from the filth pouring from his mouth, but unfortunately your hands are trapped under his grasp.

All you can do is chant “no, no, no,” under your breath as he’s pushed over the edge.

“Or maybe I’ll tie your legs against the barstools outside and let every man out there have his way with you. You missed them, right? I’m sure they missed you too, I’m sure they missed the way you’d fuck them the second they made you laugh,” bitterness seeps into his voice as ropes of cum shoot out.

He moans loudly in your ear and collapses against your body, sweat intermingling in the cervices of your entangled limbs.

It takes around three minutes for you both to catch your breaths, and for him to shakily raise himself on his elbows to peer down into your ruddy face.

“Clean yourself up. You’re going back to my room. And this time, if you try to run we’ll repeat this entire process again, but I’ll actually let everyone have their way with you. It’ll be like an orgy version of Russian Roulette, well all place bets on whose kid it is.”

You don’t miss the rest of the League, anymore

[yournameoneverypage]

Confessions

Shawn x reader.

Word Count: ~1.5k

Warnings: Drinking/drunkenness, blink and you'll miss it angst.

// * // * //

You rested your head back against the front passenger seat of Shawn’s Tesla and closed your eyes. “I drank too much.” He had picked you up from a girls' night out with your friends. You had been ready to go home before the others and Shawn had told you to never hesitate to call him if ever you should need to.

“Just don’t puke in my car,” he snickered. “We’ll be home in ten.”

You rolled your head to the side and met his eyes as he glanced at you. “You really didn’ have to come,” you said softly.

“Of course I did. I wanted to make sure you got home safe.”

“But your friends...”

Shawn had had a few of his friends over at his place that evening. He had chosen to not drink much himself, anticipating a possible call from you.

“It’s just Brian left. He crashes there all the time.”

“When am I gonna meet ’em?”

“When I’m ready to share you with them,” he smirked.

“’m yours,” you whispered, small smile on your lips, and closed your eyes again.

The thought of you being his made his heart skip.

// * // * //

Once in the elevator, you placed your hand on Shawn’s shoulder for balance and slipped off your heels. You exhaled in relief. “That’s better.”

He took your shoes in his own hand and when the elevator door opened, he said, “Hold on to me, honey.”

You bubbled, “’m not so drunk I can’t walk!”

“I beg to differ. You almost bit it getting out of the car,” he teased.

“You have good reflexes,” you said, wrapping both of your arms around his bicep as you started down the hall.

Stopping in front of your door, Shawn asked, “Where are your keys, Sweetheart?”

“In here. Somewhere,” you mumbled, letting go of him to dig through your clutch.

“Give it here. I’ll find them.” Cell, cash, credit card, dark pink tinted cherry lip balm, a-ha, keys, and, “Condoms? I didn’t think you were that kind of girl.” He smirked, trying to conceal the disappointment in his voice.

“’m not but the twins are,” you giggled.

It shouldn’t have mattered if the condoms had belonged to you. Still, Shawn found himself profoundly relieved.

Unlocking the door and stepping inside, he set your heels on the shoe rack and hung your clutch from a wall hook.

He led you to the kitchen and made you sit on one of the stools at the island. “Let’s get some food in you. You’ll thank me in the morning.”

You watched intently as Shawn cut an avocado, removed the pit, and scooped out the flesh. He mashed it and added small pinches of garlic, sea salt, and pepper and then put two slices of whole grain bread in the toaster.

“I haven’ been drunk since college... "I do stupid things when I’m drunk.”

“We all do stupid things when we’re drunk,” he chuckled, taking a glass from the cupboard and filling it with water.

He was about to pass it to you when you said, abruptly, “I kissed some guy at the club.”

He lost his grip on the glass. It hit the ground with a crash and shattered.

“Shit.”

“Lemme help,” you said, starting to move from the stool.

“No, you need to stay right there while I clean up. I don’t want you to get hurt.” He laid a dishtowel over the mess before retrieving a new glass and trying again. This time he successfully placed it before you, followed by a slice of avocado toast. “Eat.”

You ate dutifully while Shawn sopped up the water and swept up the glass. He found a post-it and wrote:

No bare feet in the kitchen!

He stuck it right where you would see it in the morning. He wasn’t sure if he’d gotten all the slivers.

Shawn polished off the second piece of avocado toast himself while leaning elbows and forearms on the kitchen island across from you. “Finish your water too, angel.”

“Thank you for taking care of me,” you whispered.

He smiled tenderly. “You would do the same for me. Now, come on. Time for bed.”

He followed closely behind you as you made your way to the master bedroom. It would be the first time he had been in your room; he was undeniably curious. He slipped his slides off just outside the bedroom door and crossed the threshold.

It was a stunning space. King-sized, hard maple, canopy bed, likely custom made, with matching bedroom furniture. The bed rested on a large rug which felt ridiculously plush beneath his bare feet. Above the low-rise dresser hung a 50” flat screen television.

Shawn was pulled from his perusal when he heard you apologize. “I’m sorry.”

“Why?”

“I feel guilty.”

“For what?”

“For kissing someone else.”

“You can kiss whoever you want, babe.”

“’cept you,” you sighed. “He wasn’ even a good kisser. Too sloppy. Too eager.”

“Of course he was eager. You are gorgeous. And darling, in this dress...”

“Which I can’t wait to get outta.” You reached behind you and started to unzip it.

“Whoa,” Shawn said, spinning away, flushing.

You giggled and hiccupped. “I’m not gonna get naked in fron’a you! I just need outta this damn dress! Help me!”

He stepped up behind you and moved your hair to the side.

While he slid the zipper all the way down to where it stopped at the dimples above the swell of your bottom, you confessed, "He coulda been your twin. Or maybe I jus’ saw your face in his ’cause you’re always in my head.”

Before Shawn could even digest that, your dress fell from your body to the floor. He groaned softly. You were wearing a blush colored, lace, strapless bra and matching thong panties. He looked up at the ceiling and breathed deeply. This would be an inappropriate time to get aroused, but damn if you didn’t have the most amazing body he had ever seen.

Suddenly unsteady, you swayed on your feet. You reached out to grab the bedpost, almost missing it, but Shawn was there to catch you, again.

He chuckled. “I need you to sit down so I can find you something to wear to bed without worrying about you faceplanting.”

“I should take a shower.”

“In the morning, love. I’m afraid you’ll stumble in the tub and hurt yourself.”

“I gotta’least wash my face an’ brush my teeth.”

Shawn stood beside you, holding your hair back, while you scrubbed your face pink and brushed your teeth. He then had you sit on the chair at your small vanity while he went to choose something from your dresser drawers.

He returned with a pair of white boy short underwear with rainbow hearts all over them and a white racerback tank top.

“I like these,” you said about the boy shorts. “But I don’ want this.” You handed the top back to him.

“What do you want instead?”

“Can I wear your shirt? It’ll smell like you an’ I’d really love that.” He was wearing a simple white button-down.

“You’re lucky I’m wearing a tank top underneath, and that I have a hard time saying no to you,” he chuckled, undoing the only three buttons that were fastened, slipping it from his shoulders, and handing it to you. He then waited on the other side of the door to give you privacy to change.

You exited the bathroom, thankfully seeming to be a little more stable on your feet. He bit softly on his bottom lip; he liked how you looked in his shirt.

“Come on, babe. Into bed.”

You crawled to the very middle of the mattress. He retrieved the brush from your dresser and positioned himself behind you. He gently brushed your hair out before loosely braiding it. That way, should you wake up sick, at least your hair would be out of the way.

When he had finished, you glanced back at him over your shoulder. “Do you really think I’m pretty?”

“You are the most beautiful woman I have ever known,” he said softly, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

“Then why don’t you want me?” you whispered.

He kissed your shoulder and breathed in the scent of your soft, warm skin mingling with the smell of himself from his shirt. His heart began thumping in his ears. You probably wouldn’t remember any of this in the morning, which made him braver than he would be otherwise.

“I want you, more than you can imagine, and that scares me,” he murmured. “You were…unexpected. You walked into my life and turned my world upside down so quickly; it’s making me question everything. I feel unbalanced around you.”

“’m sorry, I didn’mean to.”

“I wouldn’t wish it any different,” he smiled tenderly.

Shawn helped you settle under the covers and retrieved a glass of water and two ibuprofens to set on the nightstand beside the bed. He also moved a small wastebasket to within arms’ reach.

He crouched down to level himself with you and gently asked, “Do you really want to kiss me?”

You exhaled, your words almost imperceptible, “Every damn day.”

He took a deep breath. “If you remember any part of our conversation tomorrow, I’ll let you,” he promised. “Damn the consequences.”

// * // * //

@mendesblurb @benito-mi-vida