#my posts have been doing a bit better recently:3

[sci-bax]

THE ALMIGHTY SHERIFF NORTH STAR🔥🔥🔥

[tales-of-green-hill]

Jet and Wave!!

Jet is as pretty charismatic guy and a lot of people around the school like him. People think he's so cool!! But he's also an idiot. He and Sonic have an odd dynamic where they're not exactly rivals but not really friends either. Jet thinks Sonic is cool and thinks they're friends. Jet gets under Sonic's skin a LOT, and Sonic is like "Ugh, he's so cool >:/"

Wave is ambiverted, and she'd usually rather have the company of her own thoughts and work over most people, but she can be social. She's the head of the robotics club, so Tails and her interact. Tails is the only middle schooler in the club, so Wave is more interested in how capable Tails is for his age (and she's surprised knowing he's actually younger than she thought! 11 instead of 13)

(There's a strong chance I might actually retcon all of this for story reasons, but if I do, they'll be pretty important to the end of the story, but only for an arc)

[lususnatura]

🎤 🎤 🎤

a song that i associate with my muse meme!

AHH, hey, ramone!! thank you for sending in this prompt :D since you sent in three of the mic's, i shall now be treating you to three songs that make me think of blamore when i hear them / that i associate with it. an explanation of why i chose them will be in the tags <3

hozier - who we are.

icehouse - crazy.

depeche mode - personal jesus.

[thisthatwhenwhere]

this!!! I absolutely don't agree with/condone the use of chatbots (or any other resource i suppose) to do your work for you, but sometimes the late nights and all-nighters ARE necessary for me. Sometime's it's arguably my fault because I procrastinated (adhd diagnosed and unmedicated o7) but sometimes well. let me just take a screenshot of my schedule from last week and next week and show y'all.

not depicted in this is the 2 hour math final I have on June 6th since it's a different style of assessment and not on my school's calendar. As you all can see, sometimes work ends up spaced out really poorly and there's nothing I as a student can do about it. It should also be noted I am taking the normal and expected course load for my school

(for those curious btw, that's one painting + final portfolio for art, 2 page essay + 2 page style imitation for english, chem test, and a 5 minute speech for history)

I hope you all can see how that might pose a little bit of a problem.

i completely understand & agree with the backlash against students using chatgpt to get degrees but some of you are out here saying "getting a degree in xyz means pulling multiple consecutive all-nighters and writing essays through debilitating migraines and having severe back pain from constantly studying at your desk and chugging energy drinks until you get a kidney stone and waking up wishing you were dead every day, and that's just part of the natural process of learning!!!" and like. umm. i don't think that any of us should have had to endure that either. like maybe the solution for stopping students from using anti-learning software depends on college institutions making the process of learning actually sustainable on the human body & mind rather than a grueling health-destroying soul-crushing endeavor

[ms-demeanor]

I've been reading so much about rabies and cats and there are so few cat owners who keep their cats up to date on rabies vaccinations and buds please keep your kitty's jabs up-to-date and please please please keep your cats inside and please treat any cat with an unknown vaccination history as a wild animal and don't try to touch it or pet it or catch it.

The most recent survivor of the Milwaukee protocol is an 8 year old girl who contacted rabies through scratches from feral cats that lived in a colony at her school.

Don't touch strange cats even if they're friendly, and teach your kids not to touch strange cats either. (For that matter teach your kids not to touch strange dogs either, but decades of stray eradication and mandatory vaccines means that the US is one of the few places in the world where cats are more likely to be rabid than dogs)

Also did you know that there's one case of transplant-acquired rabies recorded in the US? The recipient got a kidney from a donor who died in an accident and nobody was aware the donor had rabies. The recipient died of rabies, which is a bit of an extreme flavor of graft failure if you ask me. Terrifying!

Anyway. If you, too, want to have nightmares about rabies you can search my website (www.ms-demeanor.com) for "keep your fucking cat indoors" and scroll to the section on rabies and read some nightmare fuel (like the case report on the family that moved across 3 states with their 13 barn cats, unaware that one was incubating rabies).

Did you know that in 1994, 665 people in New Hampshire had to be given post exposure prophylaxis for rabies because of one infected kitten that had contact with a racoon before being brought to a pet store?

The only way animals are tested for rabies is to examine their brain tissue. The animal is killed in order to do this. If your pet is exposed to rabies they stand a much, much, much better chance of being quarantined instead of being euthanized for testing if you have kept their vaccinations current.

Please keep your pets' vaccinations up to date, and please keep your cat indoors. There's a risk of exposure even for indoor cats, so make sure they've got their shots.

[ridiculouslyunintelligent]

hot take: the problem with doctor who is NOT that they brought billie piper back, it is NOT that ncuti left early, it is NOT that 15 never faced a dalek or a cyberman, and it is CERTAINLY NOT that it’s ’too woke’

the problem with doctor who is that they have forgotten how to engage an audience without utterly confusing them. if i were a writer, this is what i’d change:

1. i would lower the stakes

my biggest issue with dw in recent years is that the stakes are always SO high - it’s always ‘we need to sort this out or else the ENTIRE UNIVERSE WILL END. this rarely happened at the start of nuwho. of course, there were instances where galaxies and universes were at stake, but there were also plenty of instances where the doctor solves issues to A. save his own skin, B. save his friends, and C. to save smaller populations of people and/or generally do what is morally right.

prime example is in new earth. the world isn’t really at stake, he has a couple of objectives: get cassandra to piss off, free the test subjects, stop the infections from spreading. he doesn’t spend the hour worrying that if he doesn’t help then the world will end, he sees a problem that’s morally corrupt and he solves it for the sake of that group. the payoff is just as good, and actually IMPROVES the payoff for episodes where a bit more is at stake, like the poison sky, for example.

2. i would stop plots from spilling over across seasons

i’d like to remind everyone that, although there were things that kind of linked into each other and were mentioned again, generally for the first 4 seasons of (new) doctor who, an overarching issue was built up, climaxed, and resolved throughout a single season. for example: bad wolf in s1. this has gotten worse and worse over time but has honestly been a problem since rtd1 ended, and for some reason when he came back it got WORSE than it’s ever been!!! there’s just way too much overspill across seasons, things even span accross different doctors more recently which is just too much at times. when it’s little things it doesn’t matter, but it’s not. again, this has been an issue before this finale, but this finale is a good example since there were a hundred and one loose ends before he regenerated. when nuwho began, they literally stated each regen would be treated as a soft reboot and their neglect of that has been a downfall.

3. i’d make doctor who dirty and grungy again

it’s too clean futuristic ultra modern sci-fi these days. the tardis doesn’t look like he stole it. what happened to those fun tardis scenes where the entire thing would shake as it took off and landed? why is everything so light and clean? it should be dim and cozy and imperfect.

4. i’d make the companions’ family members more prominent and interesting characters again

doesn’t take much explaining, really. picture jackie tyler, now picture carla sunday. who has a stronger presence and personality in your head and why is it jackie tyler? (there’s bound to be someone who disagrees and that’s fine but i don’t rlly want to hear about it tbh)

5. i’d re-inject some british whimsy

please don’t mistake this as me saying doctor who ‘isn’t british’ or something weird and gammon-y like that, i love when dw explores different cultures, the story and the engine was one of my highlights last season, i just mean like - let him save the world with a jammy dodger again. let him be brought back to life by a good cup of tea. it makes it enjoyable.

there are lots of things, but those are my main ones.

EDIT: thank you to everyone who has weighed in on this - i’ve found it really interesting to see everyone’s perspectives on this because honestly i could talk for king and country about it, but also i just wanted to say that it makes me kind of sad that one of my only negative posts about doctor who is my most popular post :( if you’re reading this, it’s your sign to do something positive today, if i can help to make just one person’s day better then that’s a win to me :)

[arolesbianism]

Hm. I am getting the distinct feeling that either revanced broke or some apps are doing smth real shitty

[the-captain89]

Office Arrangement

Your work is usually flawless, so I was so surprised at your recent mistakes. One or two here and there is perfectly acceptable, but you were making typos and messing up copies with increased frequency each day. Every time a stopped by your desk to check up on you, you seemed to be either in a daze, your mind drifting away to another world, or face deep in your phone, only to slam it on your desk face-down the second you noticed I was approaching.

One day I approached from the back hallway, out of your line of sight. Whatever you were reading on your phone was so distracting you never heard me walk up and stand over your shoulder. I watched as your scrolled through tumblr, liking posts about girls getting stoned and used by strangers, or whores being used as free use sex objects on the subway. Images of naked girls tied up tight seemed to have you gripping your phone a little tighter, before liking that post, too. Then I saw a truly intriguing post. It was an illustration on a girl tied up and stuffed under a desk. The next image she was in the same position, but her boss was now sitting at the desk, and his cock was fully down her throat. The way she was tied and situated under the desk, she couldn't move an inch.

Just as you clicked on the heart icon to like the post, I shifted my weight on my feet and you heard my shoe scuff on the floor. You slammed your phone down and looked over to me, asking if I needed help with anything. "Oh no, sweetie, I've got everything I need." And walked away. You mind must've been racing! Did I see what you were looking at, or did you put your phone away fast enough? What did I mean when I said "I've got everything I need"? Did my smile seem mischievous to you?

I spent the rest of the week considering how to act. Your work improved quite a bit. Seems like you were a little more careful about browsing tumblr on your phone, but you were still daydreaming, and still making some mistakes here and there. Finally, after a week of deep thought, I called you into my office Friday afternoon.

"Shut the door." You obey. "Come." You walk over to my desk and stand with your arms by your side. "Sit." You take a seat across from me. I fight the urge to call you a good girl.

"I notice you seem to be a bit...distracted at work recently..." "Yes sir." "Your once flawless work has been riddled with errors." You bow your head down. "Yes, Sir. I'm sorry, Sir." "I'm going to keep a very close eye on you. Very close. If I don't see improvements, there will be repercussions, is that understood?" "Yes, Sir" "Look me in the eyes and tell me." You raise your head, and I can tell your blushing a little bit. "I understand, Sir, I will do better." "Good girl. Now, back to work." Your cheeks are bright red as you stand up and leave my office. Now I've got your attention, lets see how this plays out.

The next few weeks go by, uneventfully. Your work is once again flawless, but your attitude has changed. You straighten up when I walk by, and greet me in the morning with a cheerful "good morning, Sir" and I can't help but to smile each time. After about 3 weeks of flawless work, I come in one Monday morning to review your work and find a typo. Just one, but I make a note of it. I circle it in red pen and drop it off on your desk. Then Tuesday morning comes, and I find yet another typo. More red pen, back on your desk. Two strikes. Wednesday and Thursday you were once again flawless, but Friday morning, I find 3 typos, and an entire sheet missing from my report. That's three strikes. I mark up your mistakes with my red pen, and drop them off with you. "See me in my office at 5 today." Your head bows down. "Yes, Sir."

5 o'clock hits, and as the rest of the office packs up to leave, you enter my office. "Shut the door, and step over here." You shut the door and walk over to my desk, standing next to the empty chair waiting for my command to sit. It never comes. "I told you I would be keeping a very close eye on you, did I not?" "Yes, sir, you did." " And what did I say would happen if you didn't improve " "There would be repercussions, Sir." "Very good. Now over the course of this week, you have made 5 typos and omitted an entire page from a report. How do you think I should punish you?" "However you see fit, Sir." I stand up and walk over next to you. "Good answer. Now, bend over." Your eyes widen and you look at me. "Sir?" "Do you trust me?" "Yes Sir, I trust you." "Good. Now bend over." You're hesitant, but you bend over my desk and lay your head down on the hard wooden desk. "Hands behind you, wrists crossed on the small of your back." You obey, and I stand there and observe you for a moment, before grabbing a ruler from my desk. "Count them, out out for me, sweetheart." And i smack the ruler across your ass. "One." "One what?" "One, Sir." "Good girl." Smack "Two, sir." Smack "Three, sir" Smack, smack. "Four, sir. Five, sir." "Good girl. Now stand. That was 5 spanks for 5 typos. A missing page is a much more serious infraction. You have two options. Option A, you come in an hour early Monday morning and receive the punishment I see fit for the infraction, or option b, you come in Monday at your normal time, and you will be written up as any other employee would be. There will be no further physical punishments, and you will go back to be treated as every other employee. Is that understood?" "Yes Sir" "Good. Now take the weekend and consider these options. I look forward to seeing you Monday morning." "Thank you, sir" and you leave the office. Monday morning, I'm sat in my office. I couldn't sleep, so I've been here since 5 am. I hear the office door open just before 7. At your desk you find a note on top of a few sheets of paper, and a gift box. The note reads "if your reading this, than you've chosen to show up an hour early to receive your punishment. Read the contract I've left on your desk thoroughly. If you agree to all terms, sign and leave in the mailbox on my office door. Take the box to the restroom and exchange your work clothes for the outfit inside. Return to my office and enter. I will be waiting." After waiting for what feels like an eternity, I heard heels clicking down the hall. You've exchanged your typical sneakers for the heels in the box. As you step into my office, I'm greeted with the sight of you: tall black high heels, a teeny black latex skirt that just barely covers your ass, and a crop top, black, with the words "office whore" written across your chest. A pile of neatly coiled rope sits on my desk. You silently approach my desk, and bow your head down. I walk up to you, grabbing a length of rope. As I tie your wrists behind your back, I begin to inform you how your Monday will go:

"An entire page missing from a report is a major infraction. I've updated your schedule on the work calendar as out of office. As far as everyone else knows, you'll be out all day running errands for me. The reality is that you will be tied up tight under my desk, with a ring gag in your mouth. I will use your mouth and grope your body all day as much as I please. Whenever I cum in your mouth, you are to swallow every drop and lick my cock clean. If a single drop hits the floor, and will be spanked while you lick my floor clean. "

By the time I finish, you are fully secured under my desk. You test your restraints and feel that cant move an inch. I unzip my pants and present my cock to your mouth, which you eagerly take. "Good girl, now keep quiet while I hop on this conference call."

[thedollydiaries]

imagine like simon goes into some sort of surgery and has to be put under anesthesia, and when he gets out hes like still high asf on it 💀 and hes being a lil silly goose

okay this is such a cute idea omg, this is 100% based off that tiktok audio where it's like "my wife wouldn't like you touching me like that" "i AM your wife."

thank you so much for the request nonnie, a forehead kiss for you MWAH MWAH

simon 'ghost' riley x reader

wc: 563

warnings: none really, lots and lots of that good ol fluff, mentions of surgery, goofy simon, maybe a little ooc simon (he's high so it's fine)

a/n: i hope this is okay, i'm feeling a bit rusty with my writing but i've finally got back some motivation and energy to do so after the past two months of low energy and bad mental health. if you guys want to know a bit more about it and my mental health (i don't see why anyone would but lmao) let me know, i don't mind making a post about it if you guys want an explanation of some sort or whatever. anywho, sorry this is so short but i hope you still like it!! <3

a/n 2.0: i recently applied for a part time job at a bookstore so y'all pray for me that i get this job because i want it so bad. i am just gonna decide that i WILL get this job, because why wouldn't i?

simon had been out of surgery for just over an hour now, being a soldier you 'd think perhaps he was going under surgery for some kind of wound he had inflicted upon him on the battlefield but no, he was just getting his tonsils removed after a bad bout of tonsillitis ended up with him developing really bad tonsil stones.

so here you were, waiting by his bedside for him to wake up. the doctor and nurses reminded you just as he had gotten out that he may still be a little, well loopy, off of the meds depending on how quickly he woke up. you waited in a chair at his bedside, reading a book when you heard the blankets of the bed rustling just a little.

looking up from your book you see simon starting to wake up and you reach out to grasp his hand, only for him to rip it away from you when his eyes were fully opened.

"uh, si? you okay, hon?" you ask gently, maybe he just wasn't feeling too well after waking up, or perhaps he wasn't wanting physical touch, that happened quite often and you always respected that space he may want when he wanted it.

"don't call me that." simon said, voice hoarse and scratchy from the surgery, he sounded a little angry.

"what?" you questioned, this wasn't like simon, you couldn't understand why he wouldn't want you speaking like this to him.

"i'm taken."

"i know." you replied with a short laugh.

"you should be touching me like that then."

it hit you then, he was woozy from the meds and didn't recognize you. the realization made you laugh a little more. you decided to have a bit of fun with this high version of your boyfriend.

"sorry about that simon. wanna tell me about your partner?"

"oh, (name)? they're amazing, you know they're so pretty. and they're funny too. they always know how to make me feel better, i miss them." simon replies, ranting and raving on and on to you about his partner, about you.

"you love them a lot, don't you?" you ask him with a smile, it felt so nice to hear all these lovely things about yourself, your boyfriend clearly unfiltered by the effects of the anesthesia he was under.

sure he definitely said sweet things to your face, but something about hearing it when he was basically high as shit made your heart pound a little more.

"i love them with my whole heart." simon replies, a goofy little smile on his face.

you can't help but reach out to gently caress his face at those words, body filling up with some much adoration for the soldier in front of you.

"hey! what did i say about touching me. i have a partner!" simon scolds, trying to dodge your touch.

"simon, love... i am your partner. it's me, (name)." you reply with a laugh.

simon takes a good long look at you when you tell him this, he stares at you, looks you up and down before letting out a soft and quiet "oh."

you begin to hear the beeping of his heart rate monitor speed up, his cheeks turning slightly pink as he stares up at you.

you couldn't help but laugh a little more at this. what a sweet idiot. your sweet idiot.

[hamilando]

ੈ✩ real housewife of verstappen (smau) ੈ✩

pairing : max verstappen x reader

tw : chaos, infidelity, abuse, hospital visit, mislabelling

fc : Yasmin Wijnaldum

a/n :AHHHHH, it's part two is out y'all!! the plot is messier y'all - anyways feedback and taglist is always open - WOULD BE GREAT IF YOU MENTION WHICH TAGLIST, PERM OR SERIES !!

·:｡･ﾟﾟ･ ✩ ･ﾟ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･ ✩ ･ﾟ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･ ✩ ･ﾟ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ

liked by user1, user2, user3 and 367,836 others

f1wagmonaco Rumors keep flying as YN Wijnaldum Verstappen was spotted visiting a hospital in Monaco with a mystery person instead of husband, Max Verstappen.

view comments

user1 YN'S CHEATIN !?!?!

user2 oh lord, this just got messier

user3 man, i don't know what's worse

user4 just leave their lives alone

user5 that man could be a bodyguard !

user6 i mean if my husband hit me, i would cheat too

user7 i don't know who to believe

user8 Maybe they were rehearsing for a new show ‘Secret Affairs and beatings'

user9 please 💀

user10 this can be a pr stunt for hulu

user11 hospitals and nose bleeds for pr ??

user12 they should have chosen netflix, netflix could not never to do so -

user13 THROWING, SCREAMING, CRYING

user14 turn off the comments man, this is getting heated

user15 just remove them from the show

user16 istg, actually remove them

user17 remove max from redbull too , we don't want an abuser driving

user18 get max out of formula one ! hitting any woman is not acceptable

user19 Romeo & Juliet but make it messy

user20 I’m just here for the comments. Carry on

liked by louisegjorp, marthasinclair and 298,467 others

hulu Sorry Love Island! We had to get our own bombshell, Lousie Gjorup, Wife of Kevin Magnussen, Danish Racing Driver joins the first ever season of Real Housewives of Monaco!

view comments

user1 another formula one wife !!!!

user2 LET'S GO WAGSSS

user3 she is so pretty, oml

user4 She has NO idea what she just signed up for

user5 please don't bottle like kmag :(

user6 this is literally formula one meets RHOM

user7 HER DAUGHTER !!!!!

user8 kmag's living the life man

user9 this better be good

user10 idk like her joining after yn ???

liked by ynaldum, user1, user2 and 872,745 others

hulu RHOM's episode 3 saw a bit of heated conversations with the new arrival, were rumors put to rest ?

view comments

user1 WE LOVE LOUISE

user2 TELL THEM LOUISE HOW'S IT DONE

user3 i love how louise stands up for yn, telling martha to stay in line

user4 i love louise iconic move

user5 "JUST BECAUSE YOUR HUSBAND HAS AFFAIRS DOEN'T MEAN EVERYONE WILL BE HAVING ONE TOO !"

user6 she just exposed her like - boom

user7 " THAT GIRL MAY BREATHE AS WELL AND YOU MAY GO ON HER NECK AND BE LIKE WHY IS SHE TAKING SO MUCH OXYGEN !"

user8 louise is what yn really needed

user9 EVERYONE SAY THANK YOU LOUISE

user10 tbh someone was actually needed to shut martha

user11 please tell me this settles the drama

user12 yn sitting their in the corner, holding her tears is painful

user13 the silent thank you in yn's eyes

user14 please, just stop screening this stupid show

user15 i ain't watching this anymore

liked by user1, user2, user3 and 763,634 others

f1wagsmonaco YN Verstappen's private account posts have yet again been leaked ! Her photos with a mystery man have been leaked, looking intimate, with the ongoing rumors of her's and Max Verstappen's marriage issues. The source said that these posts were made recently, after the hospital visit.

view comments

user1 OH HELL NAUR

user2 WHO KEEPS LEAKING HER PRIVATE PHOTOS !?!?!

user3 but is she really cheating ?

user4 they look close man, idk

user5 THAT'S HER BROTHER, LOOK AT THE SIMILARITY MAN

user6 siblings kiss ?

user7 wtf-

user8 THEY ARE SIBLINGS !?!?! IT'S ABSOLUTELY NORMAL TO KISS ON CHEEKS ?

user9 man i have never seen an adult sibling pair even hugging

user10 where in jupiter are you living? they just have a healthy bond, stop being jealous

user11 man i am still sus

user12 can't beleive people think hugging their OWN BROTHER is a crime

user13 social media has ruined evrything man

user14 OF too man

user15 yn, we are so sorry

user16 i can feel it, it's not her brother

user17 ISTG, IF SHE IS CHEATING-

user18 she is cheating smarty pants -

user19 boytoy exposed

user20 what if its actually her brother ?

liked by ynaldum, lando, hulu and 1,467,836 others

maxverstappen I would like to clarify the circulated sayings around my family. The bruises and nose bleeds were not due to any rumored abuse but rather extreme side effects of a pregnancy. I have been racing so it's difficult for me to manage seeing my wife and our son, so my wife's brother @ thomaswijnaldum has been helping her with the hospital visits. I hope no more rumors will be circulated as it's causing a lot of stress on my woman and the mother of my child, any further circulations and legal procedure will be taken.

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liked by maxverstappen, alexandrasaintmieux and 2,467,926 others

ynaldum my three boys, i am sorry i couldn't protect you.

comments have been turned off

let me know if you want to be added or removed to the tg! WOULD BE GREAT IF YOU MENTION WHICH TAGLIST, PERM OR SERIES !! IF YOU GET ADDED IN THE WRONG ONE, LET ME KNOW, I apologize if i made the mistake since more than 100 people are to be tagged

permanent tg: @isotopemylove @chair-things @justaf1girl @bibblemiluvr @blushmimi @nikfigueiredo @amz824 @ivegotparticulartaste @raizelchrysanderoctavius @freyathehuntress @piastri-fvx @sadiemack9 @ilivbullyingjeongin @cherry-piee @luvleylisen @sweate-r-weathe-r @jxnellat @loveofmylife12 @budgetcupid @lilaissa @scorpiodiosa @wondergirl101ks @nichmeddar @hoeforlifee @urfavnoirette @lily-ann-b @okcurran @miniboast @teti-menchon0604 @motorsportloverf1 @formula1-motogpfan @capricornito @star73807-blog @isagrace22 @unstablefemme @lovestruck-sky

series tg: @angstynasty @hiireadstuff @nichmeddar @paigem00 @yettobedetermined7 @f1enthusiast69 @linnygirl09 @blushmimi @sjprongs @bxuzi @cp-27 @nikfigueiredo @sired4urmama @anamiad00msday @f1-33 @allthings-fandoms @reey0w @ale-522 @masomason @exotic-iris13 @msliz

@seungkwannie-lover @ezzi-ln4 @lando-505  @super-delirious @kimnamnu @wondergirl101ks @gondaleila @jenxjar @raynetargaryan2 @i--sa @angelluv16 @midnight-and-books @kacy01 @formulahoney @northpizzasposts @sunshinedaisy21 @wertyuizxcvbnm @unknownmystery22 @rd14 @almostjollypizza @mxryyss @azeal-peal @maxswhore33 @sainzluvrr @fastandcurious16 @vakonquipo @sleutherclaw @luvsforme @lolcra @cosimaa @literallysza @itsjustmyopinionf1 @blakebearsblog @multifantasic70 @annimausi @luvnixxi @taylordaughter @kodeelynn @pookynknowntranger

[infizero]

things get better before they get worse (a chp 4 weird route analysis/ramble)

(AKA how toby somehow managed to make the weird route even more awful and upsetting than it already was)

the weird route's continuation in chapter 4 is genuinely so much more sickening than i was expecting, but the thing that really hurts me is how the events of snowgrave have been recontextualized, and how all of us ended up being wrong about what the "point of no return" is for this route.

obviously, massive spoilers for deltarune chapter 3&4 weird route below.

to really explain the main point i want to focus on in this post, let's first briefly go over where the weird route left off at the end of chapter 2 and how the fandom generally expected things to go from there.

after returning to the light world, noelle assumes (or at tries to convince herself) that it was just a dream. and even if you make kris wear her watch, it's vague enough that noelle could still reasonably try to convince herself that they just somehow swiped it off her when she wasnt looking.

however one of the main things was that noelle vows to figure out why kris has been acting so differently recently.

thus myself and many others assumed that when we next saw noelle, she would be trying to investigate kris's behavior. maybe trying not to act uncomfortable around them, or maybe even making excuses to hang around them (despite the trauma she endured) to try and figure out what's going on with them.

we all also seemed to kinda assume that kris is just kind of stuck as our puppet here. they can't do anything about any of this, they're forced to just stand by in horror as we force them to do these things to her. a captive in their own body.

so when i started chapter 4 on my weird route save file and noelle took initiative to be the one to invite kris and susie over, that's immediately what i assumed was going on. i assumed she was trying to act somewhat normal and was bringing kris over in order to analyze their behavior in her quest to figure out what's going on.

i WAS a bit caught off guard by how really none of her dialogue around holiday manor changed, and i started to almost get a bit nervous that the effects of snowgrave on her mental state werent really being shown like i thought they would.

then she says she wants to speak to kris in private and i thought oh god, ok. this is where it's gonna kick in. she's putting on a happy face in public but when they're alone together she's gonna crumble and start asking why they did what they did and everything.

and this is when the cruelest part of the route hits.

because when we eavesdrop on their conversation, we find out some devastating information.

...kris apologized to noelle after snowgrave.

when they pulled the soul out at the end of chapter 2, they went to noelle's house and apologized for everything. they gave her her watch back (if you took it). they pulled the thorn (that becomes the thorn ring) out of her finger. they desperately tried to salvage their relationship with her after we ruined it.

but the thing that hurts the most about this, is that it WORKS.

noelle believes them. she accepts their apology. she's just so, so devastatingly happy that kris is back to being themself.

and we can see that without our involvement, at least for the time being, this is how it stays. if you just select either of the regular options, the aborted route jingle plays and things go back to normal.

i dont think ANYONE really expected that things would be salvageable after snowgrave. freezing berdly was treated as the "point of no return," where things would never be the same and kris and noelle's relationship would be forever tarnished. it was tragic, but it was expected.

but this makes it SO MUCH WORSE. because now we know that WASN'T the point of no return. by some miracle, kris successfully managed to clean up after us and mend things. there is a world where snowgrave happens and things still manage to mostly go back to normal.

which is why it hurts SO much more when we're able to ruin things again - for good this time.

this has to be one of the most devastating lines of the whole thing to me. think of how terrified and confused noelle is. kris had told her that everything would be fine and they were sorry. that they would protect her. and now from her perspective, its like all that was just a lie to get her guard down. it's awful.

this is the real point of no return. because there's literally no coming back from this, even aside from the noelle trance stuff. the first time she was able to trust them, but we've broken that trust forever now. if kris tries to do the same thing they did before, to apologize and fix things, she'll never believe them.

and that's of course not even discussing the presentation of this scene. the way the colors drastically shift and the screen darkens the second you say "me", the way everything sounds, how utterly horrified noelle looks the entire time, the way kris moves towards her and grabs her arm all zombie-like. and of course, when they actually stab her with the thorn... it's genuinely sickening.

the fact that it all happens in her room too just makes it feel so much more awful. this is her private space, where she should feel the safest, and yet...

but i think one of the other major reasons why this chapter's portion of the weird route was so upsetting is that we're finally getting to REALLY see kris's reaction to everything.

in chapter 2, we had the few bits of dialogue like susie's comment about kris looking off and the abort dialogues, and just the general understanding of kris as a character, to be able to determine that kris did NOT want to do snowgrave. they were suffering too, and it really adds to the horror of the route that kris is a victim as well.

but just like a lot of stuff with kris before these new chapters, it was pretty vague. if you paid attention you could get an understanding of what they were probably feeling, but it was very much in the background and sort of just implied.

but here? we finally get to REALLY see how our actions in snowgrave affected kris. and we get to see firsthand just how upset they are and how much they hate us for what we've done.

learning that kris tried desperately to salvage their relationship with noelle afterwards and specifically told her to not mention that they did in order to protect her from us is... i mean it's not surprising, it's what i've assumed they'd want to do all this time, but seeing it actually happen in the game after so long of just speculating... it's really really upsetting. they were trying so hard to keep us away from her.

and then, god. the scene afterwards of them kicking us in the bathroom. i was genuinely so shocked, i had my hand over my mouth when i saw it for the first time. seeing firsthand just HOW furious and upset they were, how loud the noises were every time they kicked the trash can, how hard they hit the soul and how long it went on for... it made me feel so bad that i legitimately whispered "im sorry" at the screen without even thinking about it.

and the fact that even after that scene, we get more moments of kris clearly not being ok. them starting to hyperventilate when theyre made to think of noelle, them getting so angry at us trying to make them "pray for noelle" that they smash the hope candles... literally no one can try to say that kris wanted to do snowgrave EVER again. toby's made it abundantly and heartbreakingly clear just how much they hate what we've done.

there's obviously more i could talk about when it comes to the new parts of the route, but these were the main points i wanted to focus on as i really think these two things (the reveal that snowgrave wasn't the point of no return, and kris's reactions being much more overt) are what make it so upsetting.

and from what we've seen, it's only going to get worse from here.

[ifangirlalot]

I’m not sure if requests are still open or not (if they aren’t just ignore this!!) but if they are, I’d love a really sweet top sal fisher kinda thing!

˗ˏˋ 𝐒𝐎𝐅𝐓𝐈𝐄 𝐓𝐎𝐏𝐏𝐘 ˎˊ˗ | starring sal fisher

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵୨♡୧‿︵‿︵୨♡୧‿︵‿︵୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

*~smut!~* [𝖜𝖆𝖗𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘]: softdom!sal x sub!reader, mentions of p in v, oral (fem receiving), praising (pronouns used): AFAB reader

First piece I've posted in a bit, no other subject than my lil mass murderer himself <3

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵୨♡୧‿︵‿︵୨♡୧‿︵‿︵୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵୨♡୧‿︵‿︵୨♡୧‿︵‿︵୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

⊹ ִֶָ𓏲࣪𖹭 Sal isn't really a rough sex kinda guy anyways, but he also isn't super into being the bottom, so he's a soft dominant all the way. ⊹ ִֶָ𓏲࣪𖹭 He's incredibly big on dirty talk, though, even though he doesn't really seem like he would be. (It's always the soft spoken ones, bro!)

"You're being such a good girl for me." "I know it hurts baby, but you're doing so fucking good." "I'm so fucking proud of you for taking all of my cock." "You look so beautiful with your mouth around my dick, baby."

⊹ ִֶָ𓏲࣪𖹭 Sal loves when you're a mindless little sub baby for him. You sitting on the floor in front of him with your cheek against his leg while he absently rubs your hair and praises you- ugh, heaven for him.

⊹ ִֶָ𓏲࣪𖹭 If you had a rough day at school or something, he loves edging you to sleep. Just using his fingers to stroke away at your insides, except he doesn't let you cum until you tell him you feel better.

⊹ ִֶָ𓏲࣪𖹭 Or he just lets you sleepily rut yourself against his cock while murmuring to you in a soft voice.

"Shhh, you don't need to think, just fuck yourself to sleep, little bird."

⊹ ִֶָ𓏲࣪𖹭 Sal starts getting hella cocky when you become a mindless, drooling mess from bouncing on his cock for hours on end while he just smirks and gives you compliments about it.

⊹ ִֶָ𓏲࣪𖹭 He loves getting head from you. The sight of you between his legs, struggling to get past a couple inches, tears streaming down your face while you whimper like a good little fuck baby and he gently wipes your tears away with his thumbs and gently talks you through it.

"Ah.. shh, there you go, atta girl.. Just a little further for me? Can you do that baby? Can- ahhh, fuck yeah, there we go, just like that.."

⊹ ִֶָ𓏲࣪𖹭 He also uses his dominance to help you develop a sense of self respect and make healthy habits. You made your bed today? He'll fuck you in it and make it back up for you when you're down. You brushed your teeth? He'll give you the greatest head of your life. You ate breakfast today? He'll rub your clit and tell you how proud he is of you for trying today.

[A Note From Zee]

I apologize for taking so long, I just have not been in the mindset to write recently- Hopefully I can get some more (longer/better) requests settled out this weekend.

[empressconjure]

Pick A Card: What about you turns them on?? 18+🔥😍

Please do not engage with this reading if you aren’t 18 or older!!

Think about your person and pick 1-3 (left to right)

Hi everyone!!! I hope this reading finds you well <3 Thank you all for your support and kindness 🤍 If you want access to more accurate and exclusive 18+ readings, feel free to check out my Patreon where I will be posting a lot more often💕 Information regarding private readings will be coming soon!!!❤️ Asé🦋

Pile 1- 8 of cups, 10 of wands, 4 of cups

Signs- Pisces, cancer, Sagittarius

Pile one this person thinks you are hard to get and this turns them on 😫 this person sees you as someone who has high standards. This person loves the chase!!! You have a lot of options so this person knows you can find someone better than them and it makes them want to go after you!!😮‍💨 They find it sexy that you aren’t easily impressed because you know your worth!! They also find your non chalant attitude sexy!! This person feels like they have to put in a lot of effort to get you and that makes them want you even more!!! I’m seeing that this person is sexually frustrated and they feel like you are teasing them😂😂🔥 They like that you are not easy to manipulate or sleep with!! Your overall vibe just turns them on and makes them want to chase after you🤭

Pile 2- the lovers, the sun, the world

Signs- Gemini, Leo

Omg this person is in love with you!!!🥹❤️ They are turned on by your body!! If they haven’t seen you naked then they definitely fantasize about how you look naked😍 they love your curves!! They think you light up any room you walk into!! This person is turned on by your innocent lighthearted personality!! You make this person feel like a kid again🥹 I’m seeing that this person is also turned on by your skin complexion!! A lot of you may be tan or darker skinned!! I’m also seeing that they love your hair! This person basically loves everything about your physical appearance!! This isn’t just about looks for them though because they genuinely love you😫🩷 You make this person complete and they can definitely see themselves being with you long term!!!

Pile 3- 3 of swords, 6 of swords, the chariot

Signs- libra, Aquarius, cancer

This person is turned on by your strength!! This person finds it sexy that you can overcome any obstacle in your life!! I feel like this person knows that you have been through a lot!! For a lot of you I’m hearing you may have had a rough childhood or maybe you recently suffered a loss. This person loves that no matter what happens to you, you always make it out ten times stronger!!🥺🥺🥺 This person has so much respect for you!!! They think you are a go getter!!! For others, I’m seeing this person is turned on by the fact that you are a little bit of a heartbreaker!! You aren’t afraid to cut people off if they aren’t bringing positivity into your life and this person finds that super hot😫 This person may actually be someone you cut off😂😂😂

[thedreamlessnights]

Since requests are open, here's my suggestion: I recently revisited my old mythology book and found one of the myths about aphrodite bathing in a lake and blinds some pervs that sneaked up to watch her. Now, the reader might not have the powers of a goddess but you know what she does have? A dagger-happy vampire boyfriend more than willing to shank unwanted peeping toms (in his defense, he actually asked if he could be there, so no harm done here). Idk, I just like the idea of the reader having scary dog privileges and Astarion not minding looking menacing/scary while doing so

Thank you so, so much for this request, anon. It's an absolutely incredible concept, and it fits Astarion so well! I had such a fun time writing it, and I really hope you enjoy the result!

For Your Eyes Only

Astarion x F!Reader - NSFW

Content warnings: Mentions of brief, non-consensual voyeurism. Somewhat graphic violence, as well as mentions of blood, degrading terms, and the description of an injury and death. Explicit sexual content, including: oral sex (receiving), penetrative sex, fingering, multiple orgasms, blood drinking, and ear play. Tags: Takes place post-Cazador, some point in Act 3. Includes mild spoilers. Established relationship, a bit of emotional hurt/comfort, and tender smut.

Word Count: 5.8k

After the darkness and chill of the Shadowlands, the heat in the city feels suffocating.

You missed the warmth dearly back then, trudging through despair and gloom, thinking of nothing but the inevitable relief of the city. Your bones always ached something awful in that foul place, never warm enough to ward away the icy air. Now, though, it occurs to you that you hadn’t fully appreciated the cold when you had it. 

The sun that streams down from the skies is blistering - scorching, even - and without reprieve or relief. Sweat courses down your neck, soaking the collar of your shirt. Your socks are damp inside your boots, and where the leather meets your calves, they’re chafing. 

Gods, what you wouldn’t give for a bit of that chill again. Even with the achy bones.

What’s worse is the mud, somehow. One would think that Baldur’s Gate would be scarce on its share of the stuff, but it’s everywhere. Tracked up from Rivington, puddling in the streets, clinging to the bottom of boots.

Granted, your boots have seen more than their fair share of mud since the nautiloid: sticky, wet, warm. It’s seeped into socks and splattered across new armor, stained some of your favorite nightwear. Sometimes, when you’ve finally settled down for dinner, you’ve been able to taste it. No amount of scrubbing rids you of the earthy, bitter taste for long. 

The mud in front of you is different, though. By all accounts, the heat should have baked everything at least somewhat dry, but this puddle remains. If it can even be called a puddle, really. The gloppy, wet mess looks more like a pond, and completely blocks the only path ahead. Even the edges of it remain entirely liquid. If you didn’t know better, you’d think it’d just rained.

A quick glance at your map confirms what you’d feared; this is the only nearby route to your destination. You’re on the outskirts of the city. Rock walls line either side of the path, too steep to climb. You know for a fact that Shadowheart had recently used your last Potion of Flying. Either you lose hours of progress to get Gale from camp so you can cross, or you’ll have to proceed through this stupid pond.

Astarion watches you eye the mess with a dramatic flick of his wrist. “Oh, by all means, darling, you go first!” he exclaims, raising a brow. “It won’t be me jumping in that slop.”

Karlach frowns at the mud’s appearance, tapping the toe of her boot against the surface. It ripples at the movement, brown waves gently sloshing against the surface of the nearby stone. “Can’t be that deep, right?”

“I don’t know,” you reply. You’re aching for a stick or loose branch, something to measure it, but there’s nothing around. Just grass and stone, the scalding sun on the back of your neck, and the muddy pond directly in the middle of the path. 

“I say we go back,” Shadowheart urges. “I don’t know about any of you, but I’m not keen on dirtying myself.”

“We’d have to backtrack through hours of traveling,” you point out. “There’s no other way forward. I’ve checked the map.”

“Fine,” she relents, crossing her arms across her chest. “You go first, and we’ll follow behind you. Once we’ve seen it’s safe, that is.”

And, hells, you do not want to step foot in there. Not one bit. Still, do you have much of a choice? Your feet are already aching from the day’s walk. It would be devastating to lose all your progress. So, no - you really don’t have a choice, not if you want to get those Netherstones and stop the Absolute in time. The quakes in the city have only been getting worse.

“Alright,” you finally reply, your voice stronger than you feel. 

You step forward, pressing your right boot against the mud, then apply your weight. Your heel breaks the surface with a terrifying rush of movement, and your leg instantly slides down into the muck - much deeper than you’d thought, deeper than it should be. When your foot hits the bottom, sticky, cold mud splatters up, painting your shirt, neck, and parts of your face. 

Suddenly, the day isn’t quite so warm.

When you finally muster the courage to look down, your right leg is submerged up to the knee, soaking through your trousers. You can practically hear the sick squelch of it making its way into your socks, squishing between your toes.

“Urgh,” you mutter, wrinkling your nose as you attempt to pull your leg up. “Disgusting.” But it won’t budge. In fact, your squirming seems to be making you sink down even further. You try to shift your weight, but your balance is uneven with one leg in and one leg out. You’re dangerously close to losing your footing, and every bit you struggle threatens to tilt you face-first into the makeshift mud pond. In a prime moment of idiocy, you plant your other foot in the mud for support, and find your bottom half completely unable to move.

“What a brilliant idea,” Shadowheart says. “Now you’re stuck.”

“Thank you, Shadowheart,” you grit out, sweat dripping down your neck as you attempt to twist yourself around. “I had no idea!”

Karlach steps behind you, laughing a little. “Come on. Up you go, soldier,” she says, leveraging her arms under yours and giving a quick tug. You’re expecting the mud to release you, but it doesn’t. Your legs don’t budge - not even an inch. 

“What in the…?” she mutters, giving another pull. This one has more force behind it; when she tries to haul you up, white-hot pain sears up through your ribs, ripping an agonized cry from your lips. No matter how hard she yanks, the mud’s grip only tightens around you. It’s beginning to feel like you’re a brittle piece of rope in a vicious game of tug-of-war. 

“Shit! I’m sorry!” she exclaims. “So, so, sorry!”

“What are you doing?” Astarion asks, his voice suddenly sharp. “You’re hurting her! Put her down!”

“So she can get sucked further into the mud?” Shadowheart asks. Her voice is lined with fear now, which is scaring you more than anything else about this miserable situation. “We have to get her out!”

But it quickly becomes clear that no matter how hard Karlach pulls, it’s useless. Every yank is agony, and you only sink further and further. Tears stream down your cheeks from the pain, and your spine feels like it’s gained a good two inches from being stretched, but still nothing. No give at all.

Eventually, Karlach lets you go. Your body plops down in relief, but the mud is somehow deeper than it was before. It’s up to the bottom of your ribs now. 

“Fuck me,” she pants, wiping her forehead. “What should we do?”

“How should I know?” Astarion’s face is drawn, more pallid than usual. His lips are pinched into a line. He should be telling you I told you so, making jokes - and you know he would be, if he were anything but absolutely terrified. Your panic is bad enough with the heaviness of the mud on your chest and lower body, but the look on his face? That tells you it’s even worse than it feels.

 “Step back,” Shadowheart instructs quietly. “I have an idea.” 

Once the two of them are out of the way, she steps forward. Stretching out her hands, she mutters an incantation into the air. In seconds, the slight chill of the mud surrounding you becomes sharp, painful ice that burns against every exposed inch of skin it touches. A very muddy shade of ice, but ice all the same. 

Karlach’s axe crashes through the surface and it shatters, breaking around you. After another hit and a moment of digging, she finally has you out: freezing, still covered in mud, and very sore - but alive.

“Thank you,” you manage, choking out the words between your shivering.

“Never say I didn’t do anything for you,” Shadowheart says, smiling a little. She lets out a breath of relief, the tension bleeding from her shoulders. “Now. Turning around, are we?”

By the time you get back to camp, you’re the most uncomfortable you’ve ever been in your life. You’re wet and cold and exhausted, caked with dried mud that pulls at your skin when you move. It’s in your hair, on your face, and in your shoes, squelching with every step. The feeling makes you want to crawl out of your skin. Your ribs are sore and achy, and - on top of all of that - you’ve lost a good day’s worth of travel. 

The only thing you want is to fall into Astarion’s arms, but he wrinkles his nose when you come near, holding out a finger to stop you. “Oh, no you don't,” he says. “Bath first. Then you can talk to me, darling.”

It seems no amount of persuasion is going to change his mind, so you head back to your tent and grab a number of supplies - soap, sponges, a towel, and a change of clothes. Your trusty knife for protection. The river is bound to be freezing, but it’s better than sponging yourself down and hoping for the best. 

Thank the gods you’d found a decent pair of boots in an abandoned house today, because the ones that are currently plastered to your feet will take days to dry out, even in the hot sun. When you get to the nearby river, you don’t even bother to take them off before you plunge them into icy water, sufficiently drenching them until you can furiously loosen the mud enough to slip them off and toss them onto the riverbank.

The rest of your clothing gets the same treatment: the trousers which slowly pull away from your skin, the shirt that’s splattered with mud and covered in it up to the waist. Your hair will no doubt be a disaster, too. 

You’re still sitting in the soaking-wet clothes when you hear the sound of a twig snapping behind you. Your hand instantly grabs for your knife, ready to throw it at whatever threat might be in the woods as your eyes sweep along the trees. 

Nothing. You find nothing.

“Darling,” comes Astarion’s voice. He slips out from the shadows, immaculately clean, gazing down at the weapon in your hand with a lifted brow. “Planning to render me dead twice-over?”

“You scared the living hells out of me, Astarion!” you snap, sucking in a shaky breath. The blade drops from your loosened fingers, softly thumping against the dirt. “What are you doing out here?” 

He steps closer, taking a seat on a nearby log. “You were taking ages to get clean,” he whines, sprawling out his legs in front of him. “And, unfortunately, our companions haven’t had an argument all night. How else am I meant to entertain myself? So here I am. Trudging through the woods for your company.”

“You could give me a warning next time,” you reply, still a little jarred. “I thought you were someone hoping to catch an eyeful.”

A smirk flickers across his lips. “Oh, but I am,” he says. “Do you mind terribly?”

Against your will, your cheeks heat, and his smile widens. “I don’t mind,” you say. “Not if you behave, that is. Hands to yourself.” 

“I’ll be on my very best behavior,” he promises. Leaning forward, he prods your boots, wrinkling his nose at the sight. “Gods below. Those disgusting things should be burned.”

“I have an extra pair.” You move to tug your shirt off, but it’s clinging to you. “Gods damn that stupid mud pile. I should have asked Gale to use a cleaning spell.”

“Oh, please,” Astarion says. “He’s been sulking in his tent all evening. Apparently, being asked to blow yourself up by an old flame doesn’t do much in the way of socializing.”

The shirt finally pulls free, and it’s clear that your smallclothes have received the same treatment as the rest of your garments. Gods, you really should have asked for that cleaning spell. This mud is going to take ages to get out.

“Hand that here,” Astarion says, motioning for your shirt. You toss it to him, and he inspects it closely before setting aside.

“What?” you ask. “What were you looking for?”

“Oh, darling, nothing,” he says. “That’s my ‘to be burned’ pile. We’ll get you a new one.”

You’d argue, but you aren’t very attached to your current outfit - and besides, after weeks of trekking through wilderness and Shadowlands alike, it’s falling apart even without the mud. 

“Do what you want with it,” you grumble, finally pulling off your smallclothes. “That shirt was barely surviving anyway.”

You glance over your shoulder and find him observing with a raised brow, slowly taking the sight of you in. You must look like a mess, but you’d never know it from the glint in the eye, or the complacent smile that plays upon his lips. Heat stirs low in your belly, simmering under your skin. Later, you tell yourself. When you aren’t covered in filth.

You lather up the soap on your sponge, scrubbing away the mud the best you can, but the damned stuff takes ages to get off. By the time you’re finally clean, the silvery moon is high in the sky, and your skin is beginning to prune.

Astarion makes a small comment or two, but mostly seems content to watch you in silence. His gaze burns over every inch of exposed skin, leaving phantom heat wherever it stalls. All you want is to get out of this damned river and touch him, but you’re determined to get every bit of the mud off before you do, and it’s taking much longer than you’d hoped.

When you’re finally presentable, you start on cleaning your filthy smallclothes. The soap is slippery, making it difficult to do much scrubbing, and the water alone is doing hardly anything. 

Astarion watches you struggling, huffing as you nearly drop the soap bar in the river. After a moment, he lets out an exasperated sigh. “Dearest, you do realize that it would be much easier if you-”

But his words suddenly cut off. His head snaps toward the woods, and every nerve in your body burns with fear. In the span of seconds, he’s lunged forward, grabbed your knife, and darted after the sound. 

Not a moment later, there’s a loud crash - some form of impact as he tackles whatever it was that he heard. You instantly push yourself out of the water without thinking, numb, your heart pounding in your chest as you stumble into the forest after him. It only takes a few steps in before you see it: a man on the ground, Astarion’s knife to his throat.

Your stomach churns, and your skin prickles in the air’s chill. How much had he seen? How long had he been standing there?

Astarion is shouting something at him, and the stranger is struggling against his hold, but it’s useless. He’s a scrawny, weak little thing, no match for Astarion’s lithe, nimble strength. No amount of twisting or fighting dislodges Astarion’s grip. After a moment, he finally gives up, cackling like an old hag as his head plops down against the dirt.

“Give me one reason why I shouldn’t kill you here and now,” Astarion hisses, anger contorting his features.

In response, the man spits in his face. “She’s your bitch, is she?” he croaks. “You can take a turn after I’m done with her.”

Astarion snarls in response, gripping the man’s collar and pressing the blade deeper into the skin until it draws blood. 

“Wait,” you call, stepping closer. “Don’t.”

Astarion blinks in disbelief, sitting up, careful to keep his weight on the stranger underneath. “My love, you can’t be serious,” he says. “You want to spare this-”

“Spare?” you echo, cutting off his words. “Who said anything about sparing him?” 

Something glints in his gaze as he takes in your words. “Darling,” he drawls, his tone admirational. “By all means.”

He hands you the knife, and you kneel down next to him. It’s heavy in your hand, cold and smooth as you run your finger over the flat edge of the blade. You stare at the shimmer of it for a moment, entranced, somehow calm in the midst of this chaos. Then you slam the bottom of the hilt into the man’s nose.

There’s a sickening crunch before he screams, blood streaming over his mouth and spilling down his chin. Even after last night’s feeding, Astarion tenses up at the smell of it, but the curl of his lip tells you that he won’t be drinking from this piece of absolute refuse.

When the stranger reaches over and grabs at your arm, you almost don’t even realize - you’re so caught up in your own mind, in the weight of the knife in your hand. Then his nails dig into your skin, and everything hits you at once.

The freezing night air. The stinging, throbbing pain that flares through your skin as he claws at you, unable to do much more. The feel of Astarion’s hand, gentle but firm, prying the knife from your grip. It happens before you can even react - a swift slice of the blade, slitting the man’s throat. Dark blood, gushing from the wound and onto the dirt below.

For a moment, there is nothing but the sound of your breathing. Sharp but shallow, straining in your chest. Jagged air that flows in and out, but it does nothing to stop the increasing amount of black in your vision. 

You’ve fought and killed more people than you can count so… why does this feel different? Why here, why now? You’ve nearly died before, so why does the scrape on your arm feel like it’s much more than that?

Then Astarion’s hands envelop your cheeks, blissfully cool, and the panic and pain seep out all at once.

“Darling,” he’s saying, half-breathless, “are you alright?”

You manage to nod, and some of the concern leaves his eyes. He runs his fingers over the scrape on your arm, and you wince. “We need to get you patched up,” he murmurs, his brows pinching together.

“Don’t take me to Shadowheart,” you choke out. She’s already done you enough favors, and you won’t be able to stand her disapproving gaze if you disturb her rest after today’s fiasco.

He huffs. “Stubborn little thing,” he mutters, but he doesn’t argue. 

Instead, he heads back to your supplies by the river. When he returns, he wraps a towel over your shoulders, and it’s only then that you realize you’re naked. Completely, utterly naked. It had been bold of you to break that bastard’s nose in the nude, but… well, it hadn’t been your intention.

He’s dead now, though. He’ll never look at you again.

Astarion sweeps you up into his arms and carries you out of the woods along with your clean change of clothes, holding you tight against his chest and leaving your soiled clothing behind. 

You can’t find it in you to care at the moment. You’ve scrounged up plenty of clothing along the journey; those torn, stained things won’t be missed. Not to mention, if you ever need more, Astarion will gladly steal you some new ones.

He takes you to your tent, and you’re grateful to see that everyone else has turned in for the night. Anyone awake to see you would inevitably have questions, and this only affirms your decision to avoid Shadowheart - if you woke her up to heal a minor scrape on your arm, she’d be seething. 

And though she’d undoubtedly be sympathetic after hearing the cause, you don’t think you can muster up the words to tell her what’d happened.

After he’s carefully set you down on your bedroll, Astarion yanks the flap of your tent closed and reaches for your pack, digging through the contents until he’s found some bandages. His grip is gentle as he takes your arm and swipes some remnants of a healing potion over it. You’ve been through this dozens of times, but you can never seem to shake the urge to wince as it sets in - the potion stings just a bit before it soothes, a sharp tingling that fades into a sweet, balming relief. 

You’ve calmed down some, warming up in your tent with him, but Astarion’s hands are shaking as he wraps the wound. His brows are pinched together, his swallows are thick and strained, and he can’t seem to meet your eyes, even when he’s done bandaging you up.

“Astarion,” you murmur. “He’s dead.”

He stills in place, jaw clenching as he inhales sharply, still not meeting your gaze. Instead, he glowers down at the tent’s floor, his hands balling into fists. “He deserved so much worse than that,” he snaps. 

You don’t argue with him. Instead, you let him fuss over you, taking the time to smooth through your wet hair, plucking out remaining leaves and twigs from the woods. He gets you into a warm, fluffy robe - only the gods know where he’d managed to find something like that - then pulls you close, his thumb stroking over your cheek. You rest your head against his chest and close your eyes, listening to the soft sounds of his body working under his skin. No heartbeat, of course, just the quiet churn of his movements, the rise and fall of his ribs that’s become habit to him. 

After a moment, he takes your face in his hands, just as he had in the woods - but when you meet his gaze, there’s a sharp intensity in his eyes rather than fear. He takes you in little by little, tilting your head up to brush his fingers over the fading marks on your neck. 

Then he leans in, and you catch the smell of him you know so well, lingering on his skin like soap. Bergamot, rosemary, brandy. It’s what you associate most with him, that sweet, sharp scent that bathes over you. When his lips finally meet yours, the kiss is rough and desperate, heated and aching. His fangs scrape over your lip, grazing the delicate skin but not breaking it. His tongue slides into your mouth, and his hand returns to the back of your neck, tightening his grip.

One of your hands fix into his shirt as you lean into him, nipping at his lip. You shift your free hand up into his hair, tousling through the soft, silky curls before gently tugging. He groans and pulls you closer, and - gods, it’s incredible. Warmth drags down your spine like a hot coal, searing and addictive. You squirm a little in his grasp, shifting until you’re straddling his hips, and he pulls away to kiss down your jaw, murmuring soft words into the skin.

When he gets to your chest, you let him untie the robe and spread his hands underneath, peeling the fabric off your shoulders, fingers slowly warming as they trail down your back. His hands settle on your waist as he kisses you again, mouth soft against yours.

Gods, you need him. You’re already soaked, and he’s barely even touched you.

You can feel him hardening underneath you, his movements growing desperate, his breathing labored. You grind your hips against him and he lets out a strained noise against your lips, shuddering. He pulls away, examining your expression as he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. 

The movement is tender and incredibly sweet, but you’re hardly patient. You’ve been wanting him ever since he sat on that log in the forest, gaze roaming over every inch of you. You let out a soft whine, attempting to tug off his shirt. He does absolutely nothing to help you.

“Astarion,” you breathe. “Please.”

“Hm? Did you want something, darling?” he asks, the desire in his voice betraying his otherwise casual tone.

“I want you,” you tell him, rolling your hips again in search of the friction you so desperately need. “Please. I want you.”

“Easy, love. You have me,” he replies, brushing his thumb against your lips. Your heart swells with a fondness that would threaten to make you cry if you weren’t so ridiculously needy.

And finally, thank the gods, he takes off his godsdamned shirt.

You run a hand up his shoulder, then into his hair. You’d once thought that he was using a special shampoo - his hair was so soft, it seemed the only explanation. Then you’d seen him with the same shampoo you were using, and you’d practically wept with envy over his ridiculously perfect genes. Even now, as you run your hands through the silk-soft curls, you don’t understand it. 

Then you trace up the line of his ear, and he shudders, leaning into your touch. When you gently massage the tip of his helix, he lets out a soft, seeking noise and his eyes flutter shut. Hells, you swear that you can feel him growing even harder beneath you. Another roll of your hips and his eyes slowly open again, half-lidded and glazed with desire. His hands firmly grip your waist, and there’s the briefest sensation of falling as he rolls you back onto your bedroll, tucking the pillow under your head.

He kisses along your clavicle, nosing down your ribs, humming against your skin. Feather-light brushes of his lips meet your ribs, then your breast, pausing to swipe his tongue over your nipple before he proceeds downward. When he arrives at your navel, your legs automatically spread open for him, and he lets out a hum of approval. He takes a leg in his hand and kisses up the thigh, warm, sharp kisses that trail up to the place you want him most.

He starts off slowly - a long lick over your clit, a quick swipe of his tongue before he settles between your legs, propping your thigh over his shoulder and starting a maddening rhythm. After all this time, you really should know how much pleasure to expect - but after everything, after his confession in the Shadowlands and the fear with Cazador, this still feels… new.

And Astarion is very, very good at what he does. He seems to know exactly what you want before you do, before your mind can put it into tangible thought, and before your body can even search for it. He works a finger into you, then two, and you’re left gasping and squirming as he sets an agonizingly slow pace. After a moment, he speeds up, just where you want him, perfect, perfect-

And then he pulls away, and the look on his face practically shouts that he knows exactly what he’s doing to you. Of course he does. He’s always been a tease. His fingers continue their work, languidly dragging in and out of you as he speaks.

“You know,” he says, pressing a kiss to your thigh, “back at the river, this was all I could think about. Getting my mouth on you. Watching you come apart piece by piece.”

Gods, he’s been direct before, but never that direct. Frankly, you’re surprised you don’t come then and there. Instead, you clench hard around his fingers and whimper, rolling your hips in time with his movements.

“Astarion,” you pant, unable to coax your mind into forming a coherent reply. “Gods, Astarion.”

He hums in response, flashing you a wicked grin. “That’s it, darling,” he encourages, shifting his fingers until they’re brushing against a spot that makes your vision black out. “Say my name. Let everyone hear you.”

You manage a laugh that quickly fades into a soft moan. “The entire camp will kill me if I wake them up.”

He nips at your thigh. “Let them try,” he muses. “They’ll have to get through me.”

He lowers his mouth between your legs again, and your head falls back against the pillow. It’s an embarrassingly short time before your muscles start to tense up, wiring you with pleasure from head to toe. One of your hands fixes in his hair, pulling tightly as white-hot pleasure sparks through your abdomen, and oh, gods, you’re coming-

Your vision cuts out again. Your mind fuzzes over, drunk with pleasure, leaving you shuddering, clenching around his fingers, moaning into your free hand. 

You know he’d prefer to hear you, but if you actually disturb any of the others, you’ll die of embarrassment. One day, the two of you will have your own house with a real bed, and you’ll be as loud as you want. For now, you muffle your cries into your fingers and tremble through your climax.

Your body floats weightlessly for a moment in what must be Elysium, until you finally rejoin yourself and find your limbs heavy and uncoordinated. Astarion huffs, placing a final kiss on you until he crawls upward, kissing up your chest again. 

He’s still holding himself back - you can see it in the way he moves, in the tension of his muscles and the coil of his shoulders. There’s a fire in his eyes, a hunger that you recognize so well. When he reaches your neck, you instinctively tilt your head, allowing him access to his usual spot. 

For a moment, he hesitates, his warm breath fanning over the skin as your pulse hammers in your throat. Then he groans, grinding himself into your leg as he bites down, chasing his pleasure against your thigh as your blood spills into his mouth.

You know this routine so very well by now. The sting of the bite, and the numbness that follows. The ebb and flow of your blood, filling his mouth. The slight dizziness that comes before he pulls away, swiping his tongue over the bite for one final taste.

“Gods,” he pants, gripping your shoulder. Then, to your utter disappointment and confusion, he pulls away. “Wait here, my sweet. I need to - I’ll be right back. I promise.”

And before you can protest, he’s scrambling out the tent. For a long, numb moment, you stare at the tent opening, wondering if you’re dreaming. The silence of the tent grates on your ears, echoing the sound of your breathing until you can barely stand it. Then he’s pushing inside again, a scroll in hand as he closes the tent.

“Do I want to know what that is?” you ask.

“A scroll of Silence, darling. I’ve been saving it.” He flashes you a grin, murmuring the incantation as the scroll shimmers in his hand. Pure Weave, confined into parchment. 

You don’t hear the spell take effect, but you feel it. It’s a thickness in the air, a heaviness in your movements. 

Astarion doesn’t waste another second. He pushes up to kiss you, and it’s messy - your tongue against his, the sting of sharp teeth, your hand in his hair and his hand on the nape of your neck. There’s the taste of metal and herbs: your blood mixed with the remnants of a healing potion. He spreads your legs with his knee, then sits back on his heels and reaches down to undo his trousers.

You study him for a moment. The crease of his brow. The alabaster of his skin, sculpted out like a statue from marble. 

If you were an artist, you’d make him your life’s work. You’d chip out his every feature little by little, painstakingly working away at the stone to define the look in his eyes when he tells you he loves you. You’d spend ages carving every wrinkle, every line, every perfect imperfection. The touch of it would be cold, like him, but it could never compare to how he looks as he settles over you, eyes blown dark with desire. 

He inches closer, still on his knees, and takes hold of your thighs, lifting them up to meet his hips before gently easing inside of you. He lets out a sharp exhale as he slowly presses deeper, his grip shifting to your waist.

Nothing could compare to the way it feels as he fills you up inch by inch, murmuring praise, telling you how beautiful you are for him. “Darling,” he bites out, gritting his teeth at the pleasure. “If anyone ever tries anything like that with you again, I’ll tear them to shreds.”

You laugh a little, breathless, delirious in the delicious stretch of him inside you. “I won’t stop you. I just might ask to break their nose first.”

He shakes his head, but a small smile plays on his lips before he straightens and starts his rhythm. Slow, even thrusts that leave you grasping at the blankets beneath you, trying to steady yourself in the waves of sensation. He stares down at you, half-drunk on your blood, lips parted and his cheeks flushed.

“You feel incredible,” he breathes. “Gods. You’re incredible.”

Your eyes don’t quite know where to land. They never do. Now, they flutter over his abdomen, taking in the sight of the muscles that ripple and contract with the rolling of his hips. The droplets of sweat that slowly build on his skin, glimmering like crystals. 

His jaw clenches, and his pace starts to quicken, and the feeling of him inside of your aching cunt is just so godsdamned good. His cock stretches you out like it was made for you, and soon your lungs are hardly filling with air. You can’t think, and you can scarcely breathe. All you know is that you’re not going to last much longer.

You tug at the blankets and shut your eyes, and he lets out another soft, aching noise as he thrusts deeper, faster, filling you up, the slick sound of your arousal echoing through the tent and mixing with the heaving of your breaths. You clench around him and he groans, shifting the angle of your hips, rhythm frantic.

“That’s it,” he pants. “Come for me, darling.”

And you do. Your body clenches around him as you cry out, back arching, pleasure overtaking every thought but one: Astarion. Astarion, Astarion, Astarion. Your breaths scrape shallowly through your chest and ecstasy burns through every inch of you, every nerve - until you feel paralyzed. Content, thoroughly fucked and sated, but paralyzed.

 You’ve just started to come back to your senses when Astarion follows you over the edge, a moan tumbling from his lips that sounds remarkably like your name. His hips thrust a few more times, chasing after his pleasure, clumsy movements that slow to a halt as he shuts his eyes. He shudders, then slackens, carefully pulling out of you before he wraps his hands around your thighs and gently lowers them back to the bedroll.

You can barely move, still lost in the aftershocks of pleasure as he cleans you up, smoothing the hair out of your face as he lays next to you.

“You know,” he says, “I think I’m going to ask Gale to make us another one of those scrolls.”

And, gods, all you can do is laugh.

[saltynsassy31]

Full disclaimer, I have to read any of the fics written for Shockwave and the kids yet as I've been busy and off Tumblr for a bit for my own mental health lol

But I recently saw a photo of an abandoned carousel in some underground area filled with puddles and it reminded me of that one deleted scene from Detroit: Become Human where the Jerry's make a broken carousel work again for Alice and they all just watched her happily play on it as the world around them crumbled.

And, with that thought, it also reminded me of Shockwave and the kids and I simply HAD to write a small drabble fic of it. Sorry if it isn't accurate for the characters or the story already made, but I hope it's enjoyed regardless :3

And, I hope, with all the angst going on, this fluffy story will satisfy yall a bit XD

[This is the post I saw that inspired me to write this, if anyone wants a visual of the place: https://www.instagram.com/reel/DGog_W_vDiR/?igsh=b3FsYm50enJhM3ln ]

AU belongs to @keferon

Carousel

~☆~

As the days went by, the situation they all found themselves in was slowly starting to get far too real. It was fun, at first, running around abandoned buildings and scavenging for whatever they could find, spending time with their newly acquired aquatic dad friend who kept them safe and well fed.

But then things started to show up and it scared them. Shockwave tried to avoid the areas with the most floating bodies, the children having seen enough of that (and he hoped they hadn't seen any they would recognise), but every now and then something would float up and startle them. Other times they'd run into bigger problems while scavenging and they had far too many close calls for Shockwave's liking.

They tend to keep themselves entertained, for the most part. Shockwave only occasionally indulged. But, usually, he could simply gently float on the surface of the water and let the kids tire themselves out. However, they've become more quiet lately.

It was hard to tell what caused it. Could be a myriad of things, as listed before, maybe it was finally starting to dawn on them how the situation was far from ideal. Maybe it was the conversation they had with that Orca - Jazz, was it? Shockwave couldn't tell, and it bothered him.

He missed their lively chatter (it still happened, but few and far between). A part of him was starting to wonder if the humans who called him out on the fact that this wasn't normal behaviour for human children were right, a small pang of regret reaching the back of his mind.

But he shook those thoughts away. Now wasn't the time. Nothing about their situation was normal anyway, he was already providing more than enough for them to survive this cruel world.

Shockwave was aggressively pulled out of his drifting thoughts by an ear piercing screech that immediately put him on high alert.

“Guys! Guys! Look!” He heard Skids say. Turning to look at him, he followed where the boy was pointing at.

It looked to be some kind of fair or theme part, it was a little hard to tell. Half of it was submerged, but there were some areas in which the water had receded. Shockwave relaxed once he deemed the situation safe, but still gave a small scrutinising glare at Skids for causing unnecessary concern - which went, of course, completely ignored.

“Oh wow, it looks pretty banged up, huh?” Tc noted, crawling closer to the edge of Shockwave's back to get a better look.

“But there might still be some things left over. You know how much they tend to sell in these places? And now we can just snag them!” Warp argued, already getting excited at the thought.

“Do we really need more useless things to carry around?” Trailbreaker argued, the bag he carried strangely heavier on his back.

“There are other things we could do there.” Skids quickly chimed in. “We could check out some of the games they have.”

“Would there be any still working?”

“Carnival games easy to fix, Soundwave up to the task.”

They all turned to look at Soundwave, seemingly to silently fall into an agreement.

Warp turned to face Shockwave, clasping his hands together as he pleaded. “Can we go there? Pretty pleaaaase?” Before he could even answer, the others had joined them.

He wasn't going to say no. This was the exact type of fun distraction they needed, maybe it would help them go back to their usual, energetic selves. So the theatrics were unnecessary. Still, he couldn't help the small amusement it brought him. He pretended to think it over, as if he didn't already have their answer.

“Hmm, I don't know…”

Those simple words were enough to make them all Start to plead harder, making their eyes as big as possible, throwing promises he knew they'd never actually follow through.

That broke the façade he was trying to play up, causing him to laugh. “Alright, alright. We can go.” The kids erupted into celebratory cheers, hugging each other and jumping on Shockwave's back. “But don't stray so far where I can't reach you, okay?”

They all nodded, but he only had trust in some of them to actually obey his orders.

Regardless, he swam over to the abandoned park and waited until they had slid off of him before crawling over onto land. The ground was still pretty wet, so it made it easier for him to slide around and follow them, keeping himself to the more deeper puddles when possible.

He watched as they all went to different directions with their own, small group. Tc and Warp, always tied to the hip, ran over to some of the stands that still had some prizes hanging. Windcharger and Trailbreaker followed Damus as he ran to play some of the games that didn't require power to work. And Skids and Soundwave went…

Where did they go?

Panic immediately followed the realisation. Shockwave stood up straighter and began to spin his head around in search of the two missing kids. The others didn't seem to have noticed their absence, too enthralled in their own activity.

He was about to start calling when he heard a familiar boisterous voice call from not too far. “Guys! Over here! Come see what me and Soundwave just discovered!”

Immediately, all of the attention was on Skids who had a smile so wide Shockwave was worried he'd hurt himself with it. The others looked at each other briefly before making their way over, Damus hesitating a bit before putting down the fishing rod he held and following the rest.

Shockwave did so as well, to the best of his abilities anyway. The further they went, the tighter the space became and less water reached the surface for him to easily slide around. He wanted to voice his complaint of them going too far, like he had explicitly told them not to before coming here (and really, he thought Warp would have disobeyed first before Soundwave. Skids made sense, but him?) But before he could even think of what to say, Skids noticed his struggle and seemed to remember something.

“Oh, right! Almost forgot.” He jogged over to the mer shark and gently grabbed at one of his fingers to guide him elsewhere. “There's an opening that takes you directly to the area we found. You have to swim underneath some rubble, but it should fit you.”

The boy took him to some dilapidated attraction of the park, it was too broken to tell what it used to be, but it did create an opening that allowed Shockwave to fit through perfectly fine. “Just swim straight ahead and it should take you to the area, we'll meet you there.”

Immediately, Shockwave didn't like that idea, and he didn't need to voice his thoughts for the teen to catch on, his glare doing the job just fine. “It'll be fine, don't worry! It's not that far. Less than a minute, probably less than a second for you since you're so big you'll just have to slide in and out. Besides, there's nothing here, the place is completely barren.”

Shockwave was still unconvinced.

Skids took to pleading. “Please! It'll be quick, I promise you. And worth it too! It's the exact thing we've been needing, and Soundwave put a lot of work on it. I know you don't like leaving us alone for even a second, but give it a chance?”

They stared at each other for a moment, Skids making his eyes as wide and innocent as possible and Shockwave hoping the stubborn teen would dispel this idea with his glare alone.

In the end, Skids guppy eyes were far too powerful even for a great shak such as Shockwave. And the kid was right, wasn't this what he wanted for them to begin with?

He let out a heavy sigh of defeat and reluctantly agreed to it. “Fine. I trust you, but if anything shows up–”

“We don't engage with it and call for you, yes, I know. Now go! Soundwave is waiting!” Skids ushered Shockwave to submerge himself into the large opening with the wave of his hands and only joined back with the others once he could no longer see the large mer.

One relief Shockwave had was that the tunnel formed was large enough that he could easily turn around and pop back out if he heard any of the kids in danger, though it also lacked any proper escape for him as it only had one direction for him to go. Straight ahead or backwards. 

But Skids was right in saying the trip was short, he could already hear the muffled voices of his children. Soon enough, he found himself resurfacing, the lively chatter being the first thing his senses picked up on.

When the children heard the splash of water, they all turned to look towards the source of the noise, their excitement almost blindingly radiat in contrast to the dark, murky room they found themselves in.

The place was closed off by fallen buildings that created a sort of cave around them, plenty of fauna already making its home here. It was fairly empty as well, save for the large, round attraction in the middle of the room. It had horses stuck to poles inside it, a dim pink and gold decorating the whole thing, the paintings that littered it had long since faded and it was hard to tell what it once was.

“Okay, you're here, good.” Skids turned to Soundwave, who was standing next to what looked to be a control panel. “Soundwave, would you do us the honours?”

The other teen nodded, bending down to start pulling at some wires in place of pressing the buttons offered. Warp scoffed, crossing his arms and looking skeptically at his friend. “There's no power here, how in the world are you going to get it to work? I swear, if you brought us all the way here for nothing I–”

Before he could finish his sentence, a blast of music and light echoed loudly around the empty space, causing everyone to flinch back and cover their ears. Shockwave nervously looked around, worried that the loud noise might have attracted some unwanted attention. Once the shock faded, Skids ran up to Soundwave and gestured proudly at the now working carousel.

“Ta-da!”

“Wh…how is this possible!?” Warp questioned, looking at Soundwave for answers, to not only be ignored, but shoved around by the other kids who ran towards the attraction. “Seriously?! Is no one else even a little bit concerned on how this is possible?”

Tc placed a hand over his shoulder, bringing his attention to him. “Warp, just enjoy the miracle. When are we going to get another chance like this?”

Warp could only grumble. Tc was right, they wouldn't, not for a long time. That didn't mean he had to accept it though.

Shockwave watched as they all walked over and picked their favourite horse, Tc and Skids fighting over the same blue one before Trailbreaker broke their fight up and offered his to Tc, walking up to help Damus up and sit with him instead. Shockwave observed the way Soundwave continued to pick at the control panel and looked up at the other children, waiting for their confirmation that they were ready before clicking something and closing the panel. As soon as he did that, the carousel began to slowly move, the horses bobbing up and down in gentle motions, causing the kids to excitedly cheer.

Soundwave stepped on the moving platform while it was still picking up speed and sat on a random horse near Windcharger. Although not as vocal as the others, he was clearly enjoying it.

Shockwave couldn't quite get what was so entertaining about the thing. It was slow, even after it picked up some speed, and the music was painful to the ears. But that didn't quite matter, did it? They were happy, and they were having fun.

It clearly was something they knew about before the tsunami, before their civilization fell apart. A simple joy of life that they missed.

And, in a world dimmed by tragedy and destruction, where at every corner something threatens their very existence, isn't that all they could ask for?

So, in a small moment of peace, Shockwave let himself relax. He bent forward and rested his chin over his crossed arms and watched as his children sang along with the screechy music, bouncing on their fake horses and pretending they were in some high chase in their little imaginary world.

In this dreary reality, even the artificial light of a broken past could make it all worth it. 

[stellasdrafts]

The Light in His Eyes (Vendetta! Leon)

Summary: you have each other’s backs (Vendetta! Leon x DSO!Reader)

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: alcoholism (on Leon’s part), some vendetta leon comfort because that man needs it :(, no official relationship but mutual feelings are implied, pining…

Notes: a small Christmas-ish one-shot in january because it’s my blog and i make the rules (i forgot to post in december whoops). also sorry this one is christmas specific but christmas lights are very special to me and i wanted to write a little something about them <3

One of these days, these missions are going to kill you. You’re sure of it. You find yourself sitting on a rooftop overlooking the city, needing some fresh air after almost getting your head bitten off on call today. Being a D.S.O. agent isn’t for the faint-hearted and truth be told, sometimes you aren’t sure how you got this far in the first place. You close your eyes, deeply breathing in the cold, stuffy city air and listening to the night traffic below. What would it be like to live a normal, quiet life? For your only burden to be being stuck in the traffic below on your way home from your safe nine to five? Your heart aches when you have thoughts like these…

You’re snapped out of your mournful contemplation when someone clears their throat behind you. You whip your head around, startled. You barely register your fists clenching and muscles tensing up, ready to throw a punch or something, your tired brain registering the sound as the grunt of an infected.

“S’just me.” Leon lifts his hands, traipsing toward you. “Can I join?”

Your shoulders slump with relief. Truth be told, you wanted to spend time alone tonight, but Leon happens to be the one who saved your life today and you figure you owe him this much. “Mhm.” You nod and pat the freezing concrete beside you.

He takes the offered seat and leans back, propping himself on his arms. His warmth carries through the cold wind and seeps through your jeans. He’s only an inch or two away, after all. Despite your previous sentiment, his presence is oddly soothing. You’ve never met anyone as good as him in your field of work. He makes you feel safe, like somehow, you’re immortal in his presence because he always looks out for his team. It’s impossible, really. You know it’s a childish and dangerous mindset to have in this line of work, but there’s just something about him. You wonder how much that selflessness is destroying him from the inside….

Actually, the habituality of the liquor on his breath may already give you an idea.

“Quite a view, isn’t it?”

“Hmm?” You look up at him, noticing how his eyes are fixed on the sea of tall buildings before you. “Oh, yeah… I like the lights. I’ve always liked lights.”

A grin tugs at his lips. “Oh yeah?” He shifts to rest on one knee to get a better look at you.

You feel yourself melt under the older agent’s gaze. “Yeah. All kinds of lights…”

He just watches you for a moment and you find yourself silently cursing the extensive psychology training the government’s had you D.S.O. agents do. You’re sure he can read you like a book, seeing through the façade you’ve been tirelessly trying to keep up. He has his own, after all.

He looks out at the few festive lights wrapped around balcony railings and trees standing proudly in windows. “Like… Christmas lights?”

That reaches you. You turn your head to look at him with a dopey smile. “Especially Christmas lights. I miss them a lot.”

Your nostalgia must be contagious because he smiles at you too. You never see him smile anymore. In your few years of working together, you’ve never known him to be an extraordinarily sunny man, but it had worsened recently. Little to your knowledge, he likes seeing you smile, especially when it’s directed at him. “I didn’t know you liked Christmas so much. Maybe I should buy you a tree and some lights this year,” he jokes lightly.

You shrug, your smile fading a bit. “We never stay in one place long enough… And people don’t celebrate as much as when we were kids. It wouldn’t be the same.”

His expression softens considerably when he notices the shift in your demeanour. His lips pull into a much more familiar tight frown, his shoulders dropping a bit as well. “Yeah, I guess so…” he pauses for a moment, debating his next words. “We could make our own tradition, you know?”

You tilt your head, your smile fully sarcastic and sour now. “Sure. If we’re both still alive by holiday break.”

He grimaces, evidently not liking the sudden grim attitude, even if it carries truth. Ironic, you find yourself thinking, for a man with his attitude. “Don’t talk like that,” he chides softly, wrapping an arm behind you and dragging you a twinge closer. “I’m not letting you die anytime soon.”

And you know that coming from his lips, that’s a vow, not a weak promise. You lean into his warmth, the cold wind hitting you again now that you’re no longer in your cozy bubble of colourful lights and denial. “Right. Sorry…”

“It’s alright.” He gives your side a reassuring squeeze and resumes staring out at the dark skyline.

The two of you sit in comfortable silence for a minute or two, admiring (perhaps longingly) the people going about their lives in their apartments and offices. Parents putting their children to bed, couples cooking together, families watching what you self-indulgingly believe to be holiday movies in their decorated living rooms… Even the young man working alone at this hour of the night seems to sit with some sense of serenity. All possibilities of the lives you and Leon could have had if you hadn’t been pushed into the claws of the genius Division of Security Operations. He sighs – if in soul-crushing envy or in momentary peacefulness, you can’t tell. But his whiskey-ridden breath is warm and a welcome contrast to the cool winter night air.

You chew at your lip, getting a bit nervous. “You smell like booze,” you remark quietly.

“I know.” He chuckles and you know it’s a piss-poor attempt to cover how uncomfortable the topic of his drinking makes him feel. “You got a problem with that?” He scratches his neglected stubble.

You know a slightly hostile question is the best outcome for you. If it were anyone else starting an intervention, he would’ve raised his voice already. You’ve seen it first-hand with some other people on the team. “You’ve got a problem with that, Leon.” You stare blankly at the buildings ahead, your previous fascination and warmth for the sight dampened.

You feel Leon’s body stiffen beside you and his demeanour shifts. You look, and like you, he no longer seems as placated as he was a mere minute ago. His brows tug down and his gaze darkens. “Don’t do that. Not you,” his tone is surprisingly tender for being paired with his current expression.

He knows you mean well. He knows you’re worried about him. But he can’t bear having you look at him like everyone else does, like you have to tiptoe around him or like he’s always incompetent and inebriated. He looks away out of shame. He knows you’re right, but he’s stubborn and also knows that’s led to his downfall more than once.

“Are you even going to remember this tomorrow?”

Leon looks back up, his gaze stormy. His defensiveness gets the best of him, as it usually does in these situations. He’s angry, or at least he’s trying to be. But you’re sitting close enough to spot the gleam of self-hatred in those beloved blue eyes. “Why does it matter if I do or not?”

“Because believe it or not, our conversations actually mean a lot to me.” The weight of your words hangs between the pair of you for a moment. “And it’s dangerous to day drink with a job like ours. We never know when we’ll get called out. It’ll get you killed,” you add to try and save face as if you don’t care more about him than you do the other agents.

He cringes a bit more at that, and his anger falters in favour of discomfort. He sighs and leans an elbow on his knee, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Look, I appreciate the concern, but you don’t have to worry about me. I’m fine.”

You tuck your knees up to your chest, even his body heat isn’t enough to cancel out the cold between you now. “That’s what worries me. You act like it’s fine, it’s normal. You don’t even act drunk anymore. You don’t… slur your words or stumble around or vomit everywhere. Apart from being angrier… depressed… you behave normally when you’re drunk.” You turn your body in his direction, trying desperately to get through to him. “You’re not even you anymore. Isn’t that scary?”

He exhales again, letting his hand drop from his face. He knows you’re right. Damn it, you’re always right, but he can never bring himself to admit it. “I… I don’t get what the big deal is. I do my job – well, if I might add. I don’t get into bar fights with random civilians… unless they ask for it. I supply my own drinks and keep to myself. So why’re you worrying?”

You take his face in your hands, your expression softening. Maybe he won’t lie to your face if he’s looking right at it. “Leon, drop the act, please.” From what you hear, he’s a shell of the person he used to be.

His eyes widen with surprise. He doesn’t answer anything for a few moments, your gentle touch making his mind go blank for a second. He can’t remember the last time anyone was gentle with him. He knows he can’t argue when you use that tone or when you have that look in your eye. “Fuck…”

He practically sags onto you as he lets himself feel everything he’s been drowning in alcohol for months. You have an agonizing way of making the tension in his body disappear with nothing but a few words in that honeyed tone of yours.

You support his weight. Like you always do, as he always does yours. Because it’s just Leon. You’d never let him fall, in any sense of the word. “You know, how are you supposed to put up that tree and the lights you offered me if you’re too drunk to make sense of anything? I’m not letting you in my room at HQ if the drinks are making you a grouch, either.”

He does want to give you that, a tree grand and worth being yours, pretty lights you can stare at while you doze off in the evenings, Christmas itself… More than anything, he wants to make you happy. The thought alone makes him happy. He huffs and looks away to hide his smile. “Yeah, yeah. Damn you.”

You let out a breath and a smile of your own, feeling relieved that you got to him at least a little bit. “Try again, please… At least to cut back. We can do it this time.”

He tenses again at your request. It’s not an easy one, and he’s reluctant to agree, not sure if he can even will himself to cut back so easily. But you’re too close, too warm, and you’re using that damn tone in your voice that always gets to him. He wants better for you. For himself, too. A shot at a better life. “I’ll try. Try. For you, alright?”

You hum. “That’s all I ask.” You bring up a delicate hand and brush some of that pesky hair out of his face.

He practically melts into your touch, too tired to bother hiding the effect you have on him. You both know something has been lingering between you for a while, anyway. “Anything else you want from me?” he mutters in a teasing tone, trying to lift the atmosphere he feels he ruined.

You chuckle lightly. “Probably, but we’ll work towards those things later on.”

He perks up at that, a smug smirk toying at his lips as he picks up on the implications of your words. “Y’gotta be a little more specific than that.”

Your eyes soften. Not now. Not like this. “I’ll tell you when you’re sober.” Your timbre isn’t unkind – it’s careful, genuine… You’re trying to encourage him more than anything, knowing he always fares well with a challenge or an end goal.

The muscles in his face ease as well. He gives a small nod. “I’ll hold you to that.”

You feel a spark in your chest of something you haven’t felt in a long time – hope. “So will I.”

You’re more determined than ever to bring back that light to his eyes.