#nobody asked for this and yet here we are

[defmaybe]

Law and Technology

NJZ’s Kim Minji x Male Reader

500 words

“And the party who initiates the lawsuit is–”

“Plaintiff.”

“Correct.”

And she rewards you by upping the pace of her hand on your cock, rubbing, stroking, making an obscene sound between the bookshelves. Her other hand is gently squeezing your balls. Her fresh lilac scent wafts into your nose. Good thing you two are here early in the morning. Nobody’s in the faculty’s library yet, except for the staff on the first floor.

“Damn it–ah–I fucking hate this subject,” you whine, intersected with your soft moans, as your hand scribbles ‘plantif’ on the iPad shakingly.

“Ethics are important to our department. We can’t just go out there doing nonsense,” Minji replies, her voice unwavering despite the fact that she’s jerking you off. She’s a professional at this. “And it’s plain-tiff, two f-s, not plan-tif.”

“At least this should’ve been three credits, not one,” you riposte, erasing the mistake and rewriting ‘plaintiff’ with your below-average handwriting.

“We can agree on that,” Minji replies, softly chuckling.

As the obscene display continues, you hear a sound of spitting beside your ear. A glob of bubbling liquid lands on your cock, and Minji uses her hand to lather the length with it. The sensation becomes stronger as a result; the strokes become smoother and sloppier. Your legs start to give in, trembling at her totalitarian touch.

“Which book do you wanna spread your cum on?”

You examine the wide arrays of law-related books as you’re getting close. Her hand feels so warm and wet from her spit. The flame burning in your body is so strong that you just can’t think straight anymore, so you just place your iPad on the shelf and grab a supposedly old book in front of you and open the page in the middle. It’s something about taxes.

“I’ve masturbated to that,” Minji jokes, and you can’t help but to laugh. She quickens her pace, so eager to paint the pages with your white cum. The wet sound becomes louder and louder as you get close.

And you see nothing but stars.

When you cum, your entire body thrashes and writhes in Minji’s embrace, cock spurting out ropes and ropes of semen onto the pages of the poor book. Minji lets go of your balls to cover your mouth, suppressing your filthy moans from echoing all over the floor. You hear her giggle softly as you falter, struggling to stand up straight. You’re completely hers, under full ownership of Kim Minji.

You slowly come down from your orgasm. What you see now is the book being painted so generously with your nectar and her salacious hand on your cock, still trying to coax the last drops of your cum onto the pages. The ugly sound of her damp strokes rings in your ear. It’s an obscene sight.

“Ah, fuck, Minji,” you rasp, trying to catch your breath. “I’m already out of cum–ugh.”

“University’s library next?” Minji asks, wiping the last of your essence from your slit.

You stammer, “Definitely–ugh–maybe.”

—

[callsign-mayhem]

loving is easy (b.b)

Part three of the 'Heartbreak Feels So Good' sequel series!

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female!Reader Word count: 2.5k CW: Use of Y/N

The rest of the Dagger Squad find out about your relationship with Bradley—some in the most inconvenient way possible.

FIND THE ORIGINAL SERIES HERE!

The morning sun hung high over the base, casting long shadows across the tarmac as the squad went about their daily routines. Reuben Fitch stretched his legs out on the tarmac, basking in the warmth of the sunlight. He’d already done his laps and his push ups, and he was taking five with a cup of crappy coffee from the cafeteria. 

He closed his eyes and turned to face the sun—he could feel the positive effects it was having on him. 

Well, up until Javy stood directly in the sun, dousing him in shadow.

‘What the hell, man?’ Reuben snapped.

Javy stepped aside and sat down next to him. ‘You seein’ this?’ He asked.

‘Seeing what?’

He pointed to you and Bradley. The two of you stood out like a beacon of light—though you weren’t intentionally drawing attention to yourselves, it was difficult not to notice. Bradley was giving you a piggyback ride, your laughter floating in the air like a sweet melody. His strides were carefree, and his back was straight and proud as he carried you. Your arms were wrapped loosely around his neck, and the way you moved together—so comfortable and at ease—made it clear that you were something more than friends. ‘When did that happen?’ Reuben exclaimed. Javy shrugged, pulling out his phone to take a video. ‘I have no idea. I gotta send this to Jake.’

Jake, who was still on deployment, would definitely want to know about this interesting turn of events. ‘Honestly,’ Reuben said, sipping his coffee and wincing. ‘I’m glad. For a minute, I was scared she’d never get over Viper.’ Javy’s lips twitched in a half-smile. ‘I wasn’t worried. They were always gonna get together. Shouldn’t come as a surprise.’ He watched you and Bradley with an air of mild amusement. ‘More surprising that it’s taken this long.’ 

Reuben’s eyes flicked between you, watching you laugh, utterly oblivious to the attention you were attracting. ‘Did we miss the announcement? Or do they just suck at hiding things?’ ‘They’ve always been like this. Always lookin’ at each other like—’ He paused, mimicking how Bradley looked at you in a way that made Reuben laugh. They watched as Bradley set you down, both of you still laughing. Bradley wrapped an arm around your waist as you walked, heads together as if you shared some secret nobody else knew. 

‘They’ll tell us when they're ready.’ Javy reasoned. ‘We just have to do our best to act surprised.’ 

Bob wanted it on the record that he thought this was a bad idea. Being a backseater meant he’d perfected the art of listening to his intuition; right now, it was screaming at him.

‘Will you stop being such a pussy?’ Natasha hissed, lifting the welcome mat in front of your door. Underneath, your house key glistened in the late morning light. 

‘If she’s not answering our texts, she probably has a good reason.’ Bob rationalised. 

Nat glared at him as she put the key into the lock and twisted it. The door swung open to your tidy apartment, and she stepped in. ‘Look, you can wait outside if you want, but after everything she’s been through with Viper, I don’t trust this situation. She used to freeze us out, even when she needed us the most.’ Nat reminded him. ‘Maybe she hasn’t broken that habit yet.’ 

As much as Bob didn’t like this plan, he knew that Natasha had the right idea and that she meant well. Besides, he was worried about you too. He followed her in, gently closing the door behind him. 

The apartment was eerily quiet.

‘She must be sleeping.’ Bob whispered. ‘We should go.’ 

‘We had breakfast plans, though. She wouldn’t forget; we arranged it yesterday before leaving base.’ Nat started heading down the hall that led to your bedroom, the bathroom, and the guest room.

‘You can’t go in there, Phoenix!’

‘I can and I will.’ 

God, Nat could be stubborn as hell. She couldn’t back down even if she wanted to, not when it came to her friends. 

Your bedroom door was already slightly open. Nat pushed it, and Bob reluctantly followed her in. The curtains were open and hazy, golden light pooled on the floor below your window. Bob’s eyes landed on the group photo you had stuck to your vanity mirror, and he smiled thoughtfully. 

‘Well, shit.’ Nat murmured bemusedly. 

You were nestled into Bradley’s side, tangled under the covers, asleep in each other’s arms. Bradley’s face was relaxed and soft in sleep, with your head resting on his chest and your hand lying gently against his stomach. The faint sound of your synchronised breathing filled the air.

Bob and Nat shared a look, trying to contain their smiles. 

‘I guess this answers some of our questions.’ He said. 

‘I guess so.’

You started to stir, eyes squinting as they adjusted to the light. When you noticed two of your best friends standing at the foot of your bed, you sat bolt upright. The sight of your bedhead was Nat’s final straw, and she couldn’t help but laugh. 

She crossed her arms casually. ‘Wondered where you’d gotten to. Did you forget about our plans?’

You groaned in embarrassment, covering your face with your hands. Bradley started to stir next to you. ‘I’m so sorry.’

‘Don’t apologise. Looks like you had more pressing matters to attend to.’ She smirked.

‘Phoenix!’ Bob hisssed.

Bradley blinked his eyes open slowly. He shifted, trying to pull you back down as he groggily mumbled something under his breath. When he heard Natasha’s voice, he stiffened slightly. His brows furrowed when he saw her and Bob, clearly trying to process the bizarre situation.

‘What the fuck are you two doing here?’ He grumbled, voice thick with sleep. 

‘Checking on Y/N since she didn’t make it to breakfast. Seems to be a regular occurrence these days.’

Bradley squinted at her. ‘Couldn’t you have knocked? Like a normal person?’

‘I told her to knock.’ Bob said. ‘I’m sorry. She’s sorry.’

‘No, I’m not.’ She smirked. ‘Cause if we hadn’t let ourselves in, we would never’ve known.’

Bradley launched a pillow at her, which she dodged. Instead, it hit Bob, knocking his glasses slightly. 

‘Okay!’ You exclaimed. ‘This is officially the weirdest wake-up call I’ve ever had! Both of you, wait in the kitchen while we get dressed.’

‘No funny business, you two. I’m starving.’ Nat winked. 

Bob practically dragged her out of the room, leaving you and Bradley to get ready and salvage what was left of your dignity.

‘Guess the cat’s out of the bag.’ You grumbled. 

The morning air was warm with a slight breeze as the four of you stepped out of your apartment building. The drive to the beachside diner was quick, and as the sun climbed higher, the ocean glistened against the horizon. Bradley walked beside you, the two of you comfortable in each other's company. Bob and Natasha were ahead of you, still talking, but Natasha’s eyes were sparkling with that familiar mischief. The diner was quiet, a perfect little spot overlooking the beach. You settled into a booth beside Bradley, and Natasha wasted no time. ‘So, you guys finally stopped dancing around each other.’ Bradley stirred his coffee, his eyes soft as he glanced at you. He let Natasha have her moment, though you could see the amused smile tugging at his lips. ‘Stop with the teasing.’ He warned, although his heart wasn’t in it. ‘I’m just curious. All the years of ‘nothing’s going on’, and now you two are all cosy in bed together?’ Bob, who’d been quietly sipping his coffee, shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He was not as eager to probe into your personal life. ‘I mean, come on,’ she continued, her eyes dancing between you and Bradley. ‘You two are practically inseparable. What was it that finally did it?’ You looked over at Bradley, your heart swelling with affection. The teasing might have been playful, but a part of you was still not used to having a public conversation about your relationship. With Elijah, you pretty much kept it all bottled up��partly because you didn’t know how to talk about it and partly because you knew it was fucked up, and if you told anyone, they would convince you to end things. Bradley leaned in slightly, his voice gentle. ‘I’ve always liked her, but I didn’t want to push things too hard while she had a boyfriend.’ Your heart clenched at the mention of your ex, but you were starting to realise that the only way you’d ever get over it was if you stopped bottling things up. ‘Bradley helped me through it, made me realise that I deserve better.’ You smiled at him, momentarily forgetting that your friends were there. ‘And he’s the very definition of better.’ Nat watched the two of you, shaking her head with a smile. She already knew all of this. She just wanted to hear the two of you say it. ‘Well, thank God. Honestly, I was waiting for someone to finally admit it. It was like watching a slow-motion car crash.’ Bob chuckled under his breath, which he quickly tried to hide with a sip of his coffee. ‘It was getting a little painful watching Rooster pine for you, Y/CS.’ This made all of you laugh, probably because Bob rarely spoke his mind so frankly. Despite the playful digs, the warmth of the moment was comforting. ‘We had to get there in our own time,’ you said, squeezing Bradley’s hand under the table. ‘And we’re there now.’ Natasha’s expression softened momentarily, her teasing smile giving way to something more sincere. ‘I’m happy for you two. It’s about time you stopped being idiots.’ Bradley smirked but didn’t argue with her, his hand resting comfortably beside yours. ‘It feels good not to be an idiot anymore.’ He said, his voice low but full of affection. Nat tapped her fingers on the table, grinning. ‘So... when’s the wedding?’ You choked on your coffee, but Bradley just laughed, squeezing your hand a little tighter. ‘Slow down, Nix.’ You glanced at Bradley; how he looked at you made your heart flutter. ‘Yeah, slow down.’ You repeated softly, but it was clear to everyone at the table that you’d already taken the biggest step. The rest would fall into place in time. Bob shook his head, not interested in delving deeper into the teasing. ‘Can we just have a peaceful breakfast for once?’ Everyone laughed again, the tension easing. You felt a deep sense of contentment as the conversation shifted to lighter topics. With Bradley by your side and your friends around you, you knew you’d found your place—together.

Drenched with warm summer rain, you entered The Hard Deck on Bradley’s arm—your favourite place to be. With Elijah, it had never felt this way. With him, entering a bar spiked your anxiety levels beyond control, as there was never any telling how he would act after one too many beers. And if he decided to go for top shelf spirits that night, it would undoubtedly end in tears. With Bradley, you never had to worry about any of that. When you went out together, you only had to worry about trying to pay for a round of drinks without him catching on and snatching your debit card out of your hand. Tonight, the bar was quiet. It was a Wednesday and you knew that a lot of the pilots who frequented Penny’s place had been deployed on an emergency humanitarian aid air drop mission. It was pure chance that none of your squad had been sent away. Aside from Jake, who was still away on a classified mission. It had proven difficult to stay in contact, but you all did your best. Besides, you knew how quickly time flew—he would be back where he belonged in no time. Mickey, Reuben, Javy were already in the group’s usual spot by the dart board. When they saw you and Bradley approaching, their conversation trailed off and they looked up. ‘Hey.’ Bradley greeted, pulling a stool out for you. Mickey glanced at the others. He seemed to be silently asking permission to say something. Reuben nodded once, granting him permission. ‘So, Coyote and Payback have something they wanna ask you two.’ Mickey said. Javy glared at him, and Bradley’s eyes darted to you. Had Mickey slipped up and let on about what he’d seen in the hangar the other week? Bracing himself, Bradley said: ‘What’s going on?’ Reuben smiled sheepishly. ‘Coyote and I saw you giving Y/N a piggyback ride across the runway on Friday morning, and we thought you looked kind of like a couple.’ The last thing Bradley expected you to do was laugh, but that’s just what you did. ‘That’s ‘cause we are.’ You said nonchalantly. Even though Reuben and Javy already seemed to be in the know, both of their mouths dropped open at your admission. Maybe they’d expected you to lie, or be embarrassed, but what was the point? You and Bradley had already had your fun, sneaking around for a month or so. After Mickey had found out, and then Nat and Bob, you realised it was time to tell your closest friends—your family. Mickey beamed, and Bradley eyed him suspiciously. ‘Did you tell them?’ He asked, pointing to the others. Mickey’s happy smile faltered. ‘What, no! I promised I wouldn’t.’ You put your hand on Bradley’s thigh. ‘He wouldn’t do that, babe. Besides, we haven’t been all that secretive lately.’ ‘No,’ Bradley smiled. ‘I guess we haven’t.’ A soft, electronic trill filled the air. Javy leaned his phone against a pint glass, and after a few seconds, Jake picked up. It was rare for him to pick up his phone. ‘Jakey-boy!’ Javy exclaimed. ‘How are you, man?’ ‘All good. They reckon I’m gonna be home sooner than they thought.’ ‘That’s great. I told you that would happen.’ ‘What’s up, anyway? How is everyone?’ Jake inquired. With a knowing smirk, Javy turned his phone around. ‘These two have something they need to tell you.’ You rolled your eyes playfully and grabbed the phone. ‘What’s goin’ on, darlin’?’ He asked. Before you could speak, Bradley snatched the phone. ‘There isn’t gonna be a wedding invitation waiting for you when you get back, but maybe someday.’ Jake’s face split into the brightest grin you’d ever seen. You nudged Bradley, confused. ‘What are you talking about?’ Jake chuckled. ‘Before I left, I told him there better be a wedding invitation waiting on my doorstep when I get home.’ Your breath hitched in your throat at the thought of marrying Bradley. What a dream that would be.

‘So you really were crushing on me the whole time?’ You teased. ‘Oh, he has it bad.’ Jake replied. Even though you already knew this, hearing it from someone else made it hit home.

‘Well, that’s just fine, because I do, too.’ Jake pretended to gag, and you handed the phone back to Javy with a laugh. Suddenly, you couldn’t remember why you and Bradley had wanted to keep your relationship secret, even for a little while. It was so much more fun, and so much more real now it was out in the open. The jukebox switched songs, the squad’s laughter filled the bar, and Bradley pulled you a little closer—because after all, this was just the beginning.

A/N: It's finally here! Sorry for the wait. I thought it would be interesting to see how the rest of the Daggers would find out, so here it is. I've got something really exciting planned for the next part... I'm thinking the Daggers take a long weekend trip somewhere. :)

Taglist: @crowdedimagines @sadgirlgiselle @sleepy-writersblock @lovelyygirl8 @my-therapist-hates-me @primroseluna @eloquentdreamer @sgt-barnesveins @daybleedsintonightfa11 @constructivejudger @honey-and-bi @caitsymichelle13 @alwayshave-faith @rosedurin @impossibleblizzardstudentposts

[eggseventy]

thinking about fields of mistria way too much below. here be spoilers for the recent update and what happens at floor 60 of the mines

I've been thinking about the strange double life the farmer's been put into lately.

To almost everyone else in town, magic is... distant. Especially the type of powerful, personal magic the farmer has. Caldarus is at most a historical religious figure- worshiped by a powerful historical group, but not a real entity. To the farmer (and to Juniper), magic is very, VERY real. (I suspect Juniper might know more about the farmer and Caldarus than either of them know about themselves, especially early on, but that's a conversation for another post.) But we see the farmer taking steps, however shaky, to hide this element of themselves, terrible lying ability be damned.

At first, it's an easy enough secret to keep. Nobody else really stops by the farm during the day- people stop by first thing in the morning, but Caldarus's statue is just that: a statue. Historically interesting, but not worth investigating more thoroughly than that. Sure, they're doing well and progressing quickly, but they're an experienced adventurer working hard at their goals! Their spells are mostly used in the mines or on the farm- people don't know about them. Sure, they talk to a guardian spirit to get those spells, and other perks, but that's not super obvious. And if they want to talk to Caldarus, he's right there on the farm!

After Caldarus becomes a physical entity, though, things get much, much more complicated. People don't go to the deep woods often, and the temple is in an out of the way spot, but it's not *inaccessible.* All it would take is someone looking over a bush at the wrong time, or the kids pushing past it on an adventure, or someone gathering hardwood, and the secret's out- dragons are real, and one of them lives in a temple in the woods. Or worse yet- someone follows the farmer, or asks them why they sneak off to the deep woods almost every day, and someone calls them out for lying. It's suddenly a much more complicated secret to keep, because now it's visible, physical.

They find themselves torn between their loyalty to the town, to their friends, and the necessary secret of their bond with Caldarus. They worry about how people would react to finding this out about them- they've had a deity on their land, for seasons, and actively hid it from the townsfolk, even at times that it would have been extremely prudent to mention that fact!

...maybe I should write a fic about this. We'll see.

[spaceandbones]

Okay heres something fucked up: gojo trying to do necrophilia to geto's body because he's so messed up that geto is dead and he killed him and shoko has to try to pull the sixeyes infinity nuke of a gojo-heir off without getting accidentally murdered

Wow there's something deeply wrong with you want to be friends w me

"To think, you'd be the one here at my end."

My end.

That can't be right, can it?

Satoru doesn't see the end. What he sees is a body on a sterile silver table, partially covered by a crisp white cloth so the gore is neatly hidden away. But he can't grasp seeing the end.

As long as Suguru existed, Satoru could say things to himself like- maybe someday. Eventually. Anything could happen. I could make anything happen. The strongest- both of us, the strongest. I could make anything happen.

He made things happen, alright.

There is a consequence to this action that, deep down, he knows won't hit him until later, because right now he keeps rolling the concept of the end around the flat of his tongue, hoping to come up with some different interpretation of it.

There are a thousand ways to avoid death in this world. But this is bad.

This isn't avoidance. This needs fixing. And he's not- he doesn't know-

"Gojo."

Shoko's voice cuts through the fog in his head, clean as a scalpel-slice. He wants to put her hands to his head and have her push away all the rot. Can you heal this?

He turns to look at her. The end? It can't be.

"Do you need a moment?"

He must say yes, because she turns to leave and he watches her go, but before she can get out she turns at the doorway, one pale, skinny hand gripping the frame of it, and gives Suguru's body a look that conveys everything Satoru can't let himself feel.

Then she's gone, and he's alone with the end.

When she comes back he's going to ask her. They'll find something, even if nobody cares, even if it isn't possible. He's the strongest. He can make anything happen if he wants it bad enough, and he- he wants this- he wants this so-

It doesn't even fucking matter that Suguru was... what Suguru was.

Obviously that matters. It matters. Satoru did what he had to do, there was no getting around it. He didn't even do it, did he? It was- it was already happening. Suguru was-

Satoru, within arm's reach, extends a hand that's shaking so bad it vibrates up his entire arm, and as easy as the reflex to breathe, when he nears Suguru he feels infinity drop. It sluices away like a drop of rainwater, and then he's bare, but it doesn't matter.

He brushes a piece of inkspill-dark hair from Suguru's cheek. He's cold all over. Both of them are.

"I can't say sorry," he whispers, in a voice that sounds like someone else entirely. He doesn't feel any older than seventeen years old. He feels like he's been alive for a thousand years.

And he tries again.

"I can't say I'm sorry. We didn't-"

There is so much that we couldn't understand about each other, and now there is so much we won't ever get the chance to. I'm sorry, and I'm not sorry at all, because neither were you.

All that comes out is a choked sound that isn't a sob. It can't be. Crying is for grief, grief is for death, and death is only real if it's permanent, and he can fix this. He can fix anything.

He's on the table before fully realizing he's doing it. His knees on the edge, and then it's a little more, one over Suguru's covered thigh, his hand braced on Suguru's chest, where he should feel a heart beating but instead he feels nothing at all. His left hand slips over blood that hasn't dried yet. There was so much of it, hours in the infirmary haven't dried it, yet.

A sudden surge of anger rises up inside of him and drowns out the ceaseless ringing in his ears with something more violent. Face wrapped up in a snarl, like it even matters, like they can fight anymore, he grits out- "What the fuck am I supposed to do now?" but it doesn't come out angry, it comes out in a twisted-up, hysterically strained whisper, "You fucking idiot. You Idiot."

The end. It feels pitifully quiet for the end, so maybe that really happened earlier. Not in that alleyway, but earlier than that. When Satoru was so busy letting Suguru pull one over on him that the entire student body almost died. That would have been his fault as much as this is. Everything Suguru ever did from the moment Riko Amanai died was Satoru's fault.

The strongest, and he hasn't been able to protect a single soul, just his own. Suguru did many, many things that Satoru couldn't ever agree with. The ultimate goal of protecting something he cared about was never one of them, though. That, he understood. Understands. He's just not good at it.

He leans closer. Even if there was a way, would it matter? Has it mattered? Has anything in the last decade mattered as much as what happened before it? He isn't sure if there was ever a path forward that didn't look like this, because despite the echoing sentiments shared between their high-school selves in the middle of the night, Suguru was not the strongest in the same way that Satoru is and always will be.

There isn't a reverse scenario where Suguru is the one breathing on this table.

Satoru expects that thought to make this a little easier. It doesn't.

Suguru's mouth is cold in a way the skin of his face wasn't. That felt like porcelain, and this...this is cold like outer space, and the lingering taste of death is all over him. It's not so far off from how he tasted when he was alive.

Satoru stops kissing a dead man long enough to tell him- "I hate you."

There isn't anything gratifying about it. He doesn't care about that. He just won't ever get to do it again. He knows that, even if he's going to spend the rest of his life possessed by the what if? He's seen people come back from what should be death. He came back from what should have been death. But he can't remember being cold like this.

When Shoko comes back, he's kissing Suguru everywhere he can think to kiss him, in case this is actually the end, in case he never gets to do any of it ever again. In case he has to go to sleep every night praying for dreams that feel like they're real. Dreams from somewhere far off, somewhere warmer. The beach, maybe. When everyone was still alive. When Satoru could still trick himself into thinking he could keep everyone alive.

"Gojo," her voice shakes, and her hands on him is such a strange feeling. She's cold, too, but he can feel her pulse thrumming like a little bird beneath the places her fingertips touch down against his arm.

"Gojo- Satoru- please."

She's tugging him off the table, and he has to keep infinity down because Suguru is right here and he's never kept infinity up around Suguru when they're this close, has he? Not since the first few months of knowing each other.

His leg slips off the shine of the steel table, and his foot hits the ground hard. He fists a hand into the sheet over Suguru, because all of his clothes are gone, and he doesn't want to grab at his body too hard. He knows what death does to flesh, and it's- it gets- it gets delicate-

"Satoru, honey- you can't-"

"Just a minute Shoko," he mumbles, fixing the sheet and trying to push himself back up, just so he can be close again, just for a second, just a second, he might not have many more-

"No, Satoru you need to get down now."

He's never heard Shoko so afraid. What does she have to be afraid of?The end is already here.

Her hand tightens around his arm so hard it momentarily stuns him enough that he turns to face her.

Shoko- always stoic, always brave, has tears in her eyes, and she's fighting them back, but she looks- he's never seen her so horrified. He's known her for over a decade, and he's never seen her like this. Is that how he looks, too? Maybe they'll all look this way forever.

"You're scaring me," Shoko admits, in a feathery whisper. She doesn't really sound scared of him. She sounds sad. He's sad, too. He thinks he'll be sad for a very long time.

His hands float up to her face, one of either side, and her eyes flicker dangerously, but she doesn't move away from him.

"You're so warm," he breathes. She is. Her hands were cold, like him and Suguru, but her cheeks are warm, and alive- and God, she's alive, isn't she? She's here. They're both here. All together, again.

How many hours did the three of them spend in rooms together? Slacking off and pretending to study, Suguru and Shoko sharing cigarettes back and forth while Satoru wrinkled his nose and waved away the curl of smoke. Why did he always think they might add to those hours, even after Suguru left?

It was enough. Having him alive was enough. Even horrible, even standing against everything Satoru had ever claimed to be for, it was enough.

He's afraid that nothing will ever be enough again.

[ask-postcrash-curly]

it seems nobody is being quite clear with you yet, Anya.

believe me or not, but this is the truth.

we're multidimensional voices. curly was hearing us before you did. we're with you now for a reason.

jimmy is abusing curly behind your back. being rough with his injuries, tormenting him, and occasionally outright beating him.

everyone will die if you kill yourself. by no means is it your fault. it's just the matter of how things play out afterwards.

daisuke cares about you. he was trying to save you.

jimmy drugged swansea in order to make daisuke climb into the broken vent to get to you and curly. daisuke... didn't quite make it. swansea had to mercy kill him.

and then jimmy found the gun. he found it and shot swansea.

and then...

he tortures curly. cuts off his leg. eats it. forces him to eat it. sticks him in the cryo pod that swansea was saving for daisuke.

and then kills himself.

believe me or not. this is the truth. many of us are... scarred from those events, to say the least. just ask bug. or kind words. maybe don't ask her, actually.

we don't know if curly remembers those things or not. for his sake, I hope to god he doesn't.

but we were... reset. sent back? to try and prevent this from happening. it all goes down in a matter of hours if you take those pills.

we're not trying to guilt trip you. but we know you care. you care about curly, and swansea, and daisuke. and jimmy, frankly, shouldn't get an easy way out.

we know you wouldn't want those things to happen to them again. right?

so believe us or not, Anya.

but please. please... believe us.

Jimmy's been doing what?

What??

No, shut up, I need to deal with this—

Curly! Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you, um— The voices, they're saying that— Jimmy has been hitting you behind my back. Is that true?

Oh. Oh no no no. God, no. Curly, I'm so sorry! Dammit, why would I leave you in here with him, what was I thinking—? And I kept asking him to— Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck! I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry, I never— I should have known! I knew how little he cared about— I thought it would be different with you, but of course you couldn't tell me if he wasn't— Sorry, sorry, I'm so sorry, Curly. What is wrong with him?! You're already in pain! Why would he— you can't even protect yourself, why would he do that?! No, but that's exactly what he would do, isn't it? I hate him, I hate him so much right now. Shit. I'm so sorry. Never again, okay? Never, never again. No matter what I do today. I can't leave him alone with you again. I'm sorry... I'm so sorry. The way he—

...

It's okay. We're okay.

Um... I... missed most of that. But thank you for telling me what Jimmy's done. I can barely breathe, oh my goodness... I'm sorry, can I have a minute?

[dontcallpanic]

The seriously endlessly talented @teencopandthesourwolf tagged me to do WIP Wednesday and it's been so long I really wanted to share something so thank, you thank, you diolch yn fawr iawn 💙 the problem is i have no time to edit so you're gettin this raw!

Hope you enjoy! It's from my post apocalyptic sterek au, Lineman, vaguely based on the song Wichita Lineman and it's about Derek slowly falling in love with Stiles' through his pirate-radio show.

----------

“So, how's it going, new best friends. Yup. I'm Still here. Oh wait you can't see that… I’m doing jazz hands! 

Do you still have jazz hands here? Do you still have jazz? Wait… do you still have hands? 

Please tell me we still have hands? The jazz I can live without but the hands… I'm pretty attached to the hands.

Hey, D'you remember the old radio shows? Do you still have radio shows? I mean apparently you do now - if this even counts. Maybe I should like, make this official. Hey! I should sing my own jingle. Hah it's not like you can stop me! Heh - speak now or forever hold your peace. What's that? Hah nope sorry… I can't hear you!

So now that that's decided, what else do you guys want? Do you even care about the weather? I mean it's not changed that much in… days. Like, is it always sunny here? I mean I can cover it y'know. It's reassuring, daily check in like, guess what?- the sun's still here! Woooo!

I'm doing more jazz hands by the way. We're gonna make this a thing! We're bringing jazz hands back!

Oh and while we're at it, do you even have traffic to report on? Let me know!

Oh how, you ask? Well my fine freaky friends like this!

Okay that didn't work so well. Gimme a minute.

So maybe if you…huh… can you even broadcast on the same frequency as me while I'm transmitting?

Ummm I don't even know what frequency this is going out on. I should probably find that out. Hah. Yeah.

Oh. Okay. Do that aga…

… etimes… I can almost…

Fucking lost it. Wait. Hang on sometimes if I just do this I can…

Oh wait…shit.

Shit…

I don't feel so good…"

There's a sound like hands scrambling that quickly turns into something garbled as if the microphone has just been dropped underwater. Something crashes to the ground and for a split second there's a high pitched warble like the capacitor has slipped then the broadcast cuts out. Nothing but the familiar hush of static.

Derek slowly straightens from where he's been fixing the mast and stares perplexed at the radio.

The fuck was that?

He narrows his eyes as if he could glare the radio into answering before he runs a greasy hand across his forehead and jumps down. His feet make a gentle thump, dust among the sand billowing up around his boots. Derek is in no hurry but he is deeply, endlessly curious.

It's not escaped his notice that the frequency was different this time. That voice - whoever, whatever it is, clearly has access to proper broadcast equipment. The old kind. The kind nobody should have anymore. Which is exactly what he suspected last time but this is just further confirmation.

His mouth is a grim line as he stares thoughtfully at his radio. He should probably start trying to trace the transmission sometime but, this is big news. It's only just a matter of time before someone pays him to get this information. He doesn't have to rush.

And yet.

That voice...

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

Tagging the cheerleader and inspiration provider for this fic @greyhavenisback

And then Very gentle no pressure whatsoever tags to: @patolemus @violetfairydust @gege-wondering-around and @oldefashioned (just cause I'm so excited to see you around again!)

[hawkeyes-darling]

Presenting the completely unhinged AU idea that absolutely nobody asked for!

By Hawkeyes-darling and @lynyangell , this series will throw the characters we all know and love from FullMetal Alchemist into the wacky world of the Gilmore Girls!

Love FMA but never seen Gilmore Girls? No worries! We’ll be telling the entire story from start to finish, with our own brand new twists on all the characters and storylines!

Love Gilmore Girls but new to FMA? Then come enjoy the storyline and setting you already know with a whole new cast of characters and some fun surprises!

Listen here for a

fun series intro

and take a peak under the cut for a few little snippets of what we’ve been cooking up!

Coming soon to an archive near you!

“Coffee please," she says.

Jean looks at her as he pours another customer's cup, arching a blonde eyebrow. "How many cups have you had today?"

Riza bites her lower lip and tries to look nonchalant.

"Just one."

If she said none, he'd never believe it. Her caffeine addiction runs deep, and nobody knows it better than the purveyor of the best coffee in the tri-county area.

Jean leans over the counter, propping himself up with his free arm, his other carefully setting down the coffee pot. He holds the handle away from Riza as if he’s guarding it.

"Plus?" he drawls, looking at Riza with an expression of disbelief, seeing through her charade

She winces.

"Two. But yours is better."

-----

Winry opens the door with a small smile on her lips. Her cheeks are pink from the cold outside air.

She takes her usual seat at the table, depositing her bag to the side.

"Hey, it's freezing!"

"Hmm, what do you need? Hot tea? Coffee?" Riza asks.

"Lip gloss." Winry states as she pops her chapped lips, hating the feel of them.

Riza laughs and reaches for her purse, withdrawing a tube of carmex.

"All yours. I have a spare."

Winry sighs, taking it from her mom, and popping the cap and applying it.

Her brows knit together as she looks at Riza.

"Hey, I lost my Kelly Clarkson CD, have you seen it? And I need caffeine,” she pouts.

Riza grimaces.

"You're crabby," she observes, surveying the frown on her usually bubbly daughter's face. She sighs and withdraws said CD from her own purse.

"Sorry," she says sheepishly. "I'm almost out of data on my phone plan, and you know I can't drive without my Spotify...or a good CD."

Winry nods and takes the CD back from Riza, shoving it in her backpack. Her slight smile returns to her face, yet her brows stay furrowed.

For a moment her facial expression is entirely too reminiscent of her father, down to how her fake smile turns into a pout.

"Yeah, sorry, the cold always gets me down. Coffee will help!" Her pouty expression shifts into a beg, her bluish-grey eyes sparkling. "Will you get me some please?" she asks, elongating the vowel in the word.

Winry was almost as addicted to caffeine as her mother.

----

Roy Mustang sighs deeply and drags a hand through his dusty hair. He takes the final swig from a paper cup of dishwater coffee then taps on the iPad before him, fixing a cheerful smile on his face as it begins to chime.

The call connects, but the image is grainy, and he squints at the screen.

"Hello?"

The image bounces, and he realizes that the screen is pointed up towards the ceiling as the person on the other end of the line walks. He can see part of her forehead and a wisp of blonde hair.

"Hello?" He can't quite keep the irritation from his voice.

The image freezes, and he hears a couple of dull thumps, then her muffled voice.

"Here," she says. "It's your Dad."

There's another muffled shuffling sound, then his daughter's brightly smiling face comes into focus.

"Hi, Daddy!"

"Hey, Winnie!"

Roy’s smile is genuine now. He's a little disappointed by Riza’s reaction to his call. She hadn't wanted him to volunteer for this assignment—she never does—but it's unlike her to refuse to even speak with him when he's away on deployment.

"How are you?"

She leans forward so her face fills the screen, and his smile grows wider still at the sight.

"I'm good! But Daddy, guess what?" Winry smiles, and he can hear the slight tapping sound that means she's drumming her fingernails against the side of the screen.

Roy smirks as he watches her fidget. They're a lot alike.

"You...dyed your hair blue? No, wait. I can see it, still blonde. Um...oh." He chuckles. "Did you get asked out by a boy?"

Winry rolls her eyes dramatically and makes a playful gagging sound at the idea of it being about a boy.

"No, Dad!"

“A girl then?”

“Dad,” she groans, playfully drawing out the word. "I got into Amestris Prep! How exciting is that?!"

♡♡♡

[tzufcallsmeshomps]

Why did it take my landlords' young kid pulling a prank on me to realize I do in fact have unprocessed ptsd

[ask-elland-n-will]

[OOC rant about HL rp space here on tumblr: Wanted to mention this for a while but engagement requires... engagement. The more rp blogs exchange asks, the more pathways there are to communicate, to create a net of connections, make characters and the world around them come to life. Over the past year and a half I sent hundreds of asks, in anon/as me/as my characters. I understand being shy. I've been there, and it took some great people in this community to get me out of my shell.

But it is just what it is: unfortunately, if there is no reciprocity, there is no dialogue.

You don't have to wait for a green light/talk in DMs first with creating an rp scenario to send anyone an ask or to initiate rp by tagging someone. You can if it makes you more comfortable but don't have to. Most of us have Rules of Engagement but that's all the pre-requisites.

Before I burned out, I sent people asks just to make them happy, give some interactions for their characters. I wanted to find out more about MCs/OCs. But at this point (and I am not alone in this) whenever this turns into a one-sided communication, I am bothered by it, and I stop sending asks after a while.

I get that if I do it with anons, people won't know who to reply to. But even starting small, sending an ask or two for at least some rp people, so that we know you want to engage — it means a lot. It makes us want to continue playing in this HL sandbox.]

[the-way-astray]

you are alayda

you got me

[severussnapeconfessions]

You know what? I’m a believer that severus uses cheesy lines with his partner just because he knows they sound dumb as fuck and gets them off guard each time💀

"Do you want to play a game tonight? To add some... Variety?" Severus asks silkily, hugging you from behind.

"Maybe?"

"We could play... Mona Lisa." He smirks after your silence and tunes down his tone dangerously. "You'll play Lisa and I'll make you moan. "

Both of you dissolve in a fit of laughter.

😭🤣 (this is not my joke)

[hyperfixated-homo]

idea for Freja: since she was part of a search and rescue team in overwatch, what if she found Amelie when she was captured? Amelia got captured and brainwashed by Talon, and she was found but then one night killed her husband Gèrard in his sleep and then went back to Talon and became Widowmaker, so what if Freja is the one who initially found Amelie?

Ooh!! This idea is really interesting- and fits well with what little we know about her thus far. if this were to happen, I can imaging it being part of the reason that Freya no longer does search and rescue but rather focuses on actual bounties now. There'd be an element of self blame that would probably arise from that, especially if you imagine that she knew Gerard and Amelie before she was captured.

This is also giving me thoughts about how Widowmaker and Freya might interact. We'll have to see when she gets officially added what kind of interactions she has with other characters, but I think it could be really interesting if they were... allies? I guess? Collegues? I mean, if you keep going along the thought that she knew Amelie before she became Widow, they'd probably act more jaded towards each other, but I could also imagine a universe where they only met afterwards and have a sort of "friendly" relationship because of it. Food for thought, I suppose.

[guinevereslancelot]

not to be ungrateful but i don't get paid enough at my job lol

[tsarjozinzbazin]

it has happened once again and arcane fans are invading league of legends playing their favourite arcane characters and just walking under enemy turrets

[emotionalsupportgoblin420]

Doing a Pokémon Y Nuzlock. Wish me luck! I'll keep everyone updated

[kradogsrats]

my brain: hey. hey, open a new doc.

me: what? why? I've got like 3 WIPs already that's plenty

my brain: look you've been writing all this introspective, people have big feelings and talk about them with healthy communication shit, it's gross

me: I actually thought it was pretty good...

my brain: yeah well this is an intervention: I'm going on strike until you write this human furniture porn, have fun