#otherwise you ARE going to loose his trust eventually…

[microclown]

Finished 176, and once again I’m in love with the writing on this show.

I love how Martin knows Jon is keeping something from him, and can tell he is feeling apprehensive about whatever he has to do to catch Basira, and when he pushes Jon to open up about it, Jon is actually honest! Sort of…

Because Jon is nervous about betraying someone’s trust, it’s just not Basira.

I love how Martin is just like “If it were me I’d forgive you ☺️”

And Jon’s “Mm” in response like “I suppose we’re about to find out…”

[whoopsyeahokay]

October Sun

summary: a string of break-ins, Austin Baxter had told Sandra Nears, not that you'd been aware of that. in fact, you hadn't heard anything about it until the problem had been brought to your doorstep, so to speak.

pairing: Wally Clark x fem!reader

warnings: eventual smutty smut smut. and mad spoilers. and obvious Canon divergence. very involved, very dense plot.

bon reading, frens

___________________________💀

OCTOBER SUN pt.12

The pitter-patter of rain on your window roused you a few minutes ahead of your alarm. 6:15AM. It was lightening outside, though barely, daybreak greyed by the padding of stormclouds that swept the expanse of Split River sky.

You regretted telling Wally you'd meet him early, the nest of your comforter and pillows seducing you to stay five more minutes. But five would roll into ten would turn into twenty if you didn't do something about it, so, glumly, you tossed your covers to the side and dragged yourself out of bed.

Thirty minutes later—clean, dressed—you sat in the front porch swing and sipped a cup of decaf from an oversized mug that announced WEIRD MOMS BUILD CHARACTER. Sure they did, you thought sarcastically, and anger wasn't a trauma response.

You wanted to believe your mother was doing her best with what she'd been given but, when you really thought about it, you knew she could've done better. Had had the opportunities and the tools and the support to do better.

It was strange how you'd only noticed all those little inconsistencies and second-thought I love you to the moons in the last few days. Like you'd suddenly woken up from a dream. You'd suffered dissociation a lot since... Since. But this felt different enough that you could recognize it wasn't that.

Perhaps it was as simple as personal growth. Maddie's 'disappearance' had shaken a lot of things loose for a lot of people, not just her friend group, and you wouldn't have been surprised if it was also responsible for opening your eyes to things that'd been easier to stay blind to. Like your mother and her fake practice with her fake credentials and her fake sympathy.

You thought of Maddie's own mother—a drinker, your great-aunt had mentioned once—and how she'd failed to protect her daughter.

From a man everyone believed could be trusted, your brain reminded you. How could Maddie's mother have known, liquored up or not, when no one else had? Andrew trusted Mr. Anderson with his life.

Even you'd confided in Mr. Anderson with your struggles. After school, overwhelmed by assignments because your mother had roped you into helping her with a client. Just turn off the breaker at 12:01AM exactly, then you can go to bed. (Why the hell Ginny allowed your mother to pursue that shit, you'd never know.)

Maybe it wasn't as dark as you and Simon thought it was. Maybe Mr. Anderson had given Maddie the money to get away from her mother. Maybe someone else was to blame for Maddie's ghost being trapped in an In Between. If so, who?

You gently rocked the porch swing with your foot, the other tucked under you, staring into your now lukewarm coffee.

Not Simon, definitely. He seemed to be going insane trying to unearth what'd happened to Maddie. That opened another can of worms: Could he see Maddie's ghost? You'd tried to glean whether or not it was possible last night in the park. He'd said a couple of things that'd supported the idea, but, then again, it could've also been absolutely nothing.

Dead Grandpa John had even been on a stroll nearby and Simon hadn't looked at him once.

You needed a plan. Would ask Wally later if he was interested in a little experiment to see if Simon shared your abilities.

The murmur of a car's engine drew you into the present and you sat up straighter on the porch swing, maneuvering yourself so you could peer down the road. At barely 7AM, the neighborhood was the kind of quiet that lingers in the morning, making even the slightest noise much louder than it would've otherwise been.

When the police cruiser pulled into your nextdoor neighbor's driveway, you stood to lean against a post for a less obstructed view. The front door opened behind you, Aurora joining you on the porch with her mug of tea, the floral smell wafting up your nose and itching your nostrils.

"I don't know how you drink that stuff," You commented, giving the mug a disgusted side-eye.

Aurora scoffed, "Oh yeah, because you didn't drink this every morning," and slotted into place beside you, her eyes following the Sheriff as he hopped up your neighbor's stairs and rang the doorbell.

You pinched your lips and scowled at her, "I've evolved."

"Sure you have." Aurora's amusement transformed into a polite smile when she noticed the Sheriff waving at you and her.

"Good mornin'," He called across the expanse of yard between your house and your neighbor's.

"Morning!" You and Aurora sang back, shamelessly maintaining your overtly nosy position to watch the scene unfold.

Your neighbor, Darcy Behr, answered the door moments later. You couldn't see Darcy from where you stood, the woman tucked into her foyer, probably not yet put together for the day, but you heard the Sheriff introduce himself and apologize for the early hour.

"Just following up about the call you made last night. I need to ask you some questions if that's okay." The Sheriff said, donning his best customer service smile.

Darcy had obviously stepped aside in accord since the Sheriff disappeared into the house after telling you and Aurora to, "Say hi to your mom for me!"

"Okaaay~!" You both emphasized how were not going to do that by noisily slurping your drinks in unison until Darcy's door closed with a woody clap behind the Sheriff.

"Have you ever actually seen Darcy?" You asked, turning to lean against the porch banister. Searching your memory, you couldn't recall a single instance you'd seen your neighbor beyond a figure in a massively brimmed hat and an oversized feathery robe once two summers ago.

Aurora shrugged, "Yeah. I mean, I haven't spoken to her in awhile, but I see her before I leave for work sometimes." She gave you a studious look then, as if sizing you up. "You've been asking a lot of weird questions lately. Is everything okay?"

"You mean apart from my friend going missing and the police are treating it like a simple runaway case?" You gave Aurora a tight, plastic smile, "Oh yeah, everything's totally great."

"And you don't think it is a runaway case?"

You stayed silent for a moment, unsure if you should share even an opinion to the contrary. Obviously, you couldn't tell Aurora about Maddie being a ghost. Couldn't risk it getting to your mother or Ginny. So what was the point of sharing anything at all?

You shook your head, "I dunno what to think." You took a sip of your coffee and then asked, "Why's Austin at Darcy's anyway?"

"Probably following up about the break-in last night." Aurora guessed.

Your eyebrows shot up, "Break-in?"

"Yeah. It was a whole thing. Too bad you missed it..." Her expression turned that smarmy kind of superior; like she knew something about you that you hadn't wanted her to know.

"You didn't think to mention it at dinner?"

"You were in a mood!" Aurora defended, "Too busy angsting over having to leave your boyfriend." She put her wrist to her brow in a dramatic display, whining, "Where for art thou?"

She'd seen you and Simon on the swings last night; had shouted at you through an upstairs window to get your ass inside before your food got cold.

"Oh my god, Simon is not my boyfriend." You hated how petulant you sounded, but, seriously, big sisters had a way of bringing out the worst in their younger siblings.

Saying the word boyfriend aloud unintentionally summoned thoughts of Wally; his lopsided grin and warm brown eyes. How his hands had gripped your thighs, hips, waist, ass. The way he'd so easily manhandled you into his lap and ground you against him—

Aurora smirked and pressed her hand to your forehead as if checking for a fever. "Oooh, but you do have a boyfriend?" She chortled, "Feel you, oh my goodness! All gushy and pink and awkward, I am living!"

You shoved her hand away, "Shelve the empathy, please," and narrowed your eyes at her, "I hate it when you do that."

The front door creaked open again to reveal Dave, Aurora's newly minted husband. He stepped outside holding a cup of the same grandma's perfume tea and sidled up to her, exuding casual affection and sappy smiles, pecking her cheek before he bid you good morning.

You tipped your mug at him in salute and took a generous sip of your coffee to avoid having to say anything.

You didn't dislike Dave. He was a really nice guy. Like, stupidly nice. Ultra-polite and sympathetic and friendly. He used words like dagnabbit unironically, and wore chinos, and literally wouldn't hurt a fly. A spaniel of a man who fetched for Aurora before she even knew what it was she needed.

He was just...

so...

Dave.

Also, he was completely clueless about everything your family's rich, connected heritage. Before the wedding, he'd been fed a story that made your mother's hustle seem morally righteous. Everyone grieves differently, your mother had told him, hand on her heart, I just do what I can to ease the process.

He'd fallen for it hook, line, and sinker, believing your mother was a saint whose clients sought her out for unconventional therapy. Poor, dumb puppy.

You moved by Dave and Aurora to collect your phone from where you'd left it on the porch swing. Checked the time: 7:15AM. Time to go if you didn't want to be late. Your backpack was already in the passenger seat of your sister's car, but you still had to grab a jacket and the keys.

You stepped into the foyer and plucked the keys off one set of hooks, your jean jacket from another, then returned to the porch where you forced Aurora to take responsibility for your half-empty mug. She accepted it with a snide look.

"Thanks again, Rory!" You said, jingling the keys at her before skipping down the front steps.

Aurora sing-songed, "Say hi to your boyfriend for me!" For the sake of embarrassing you because sisters sucked like that, no matter how much older and more mature they were supposed to be.

You scoffed, rolled your eyes, and returned, "I don't have a boyfriend!"

"Try telling me that without smelling like vanilla blossom!"

"Smelling like what?" You heard Dave ask, to which Aurora patted his cheek and dismissed him completely.

"Nothing, sweetie."

Poor. Dumb. Puppy.

As you backed out of the driveway, you feigned almost hitting the mailbox just to see the horror on Aurora's face, gliding expertly into the road after she screamed murderous intent at you.

"That's what you get for being a bitch~!" You yelled and thrust your middle finger out of the sunroof, waving goodbye with it.

‗‗‗‗•‗‗‗‗

Wally strolled through the hall, muscles loose and hair still damp from the hot shower he'd just taken.

A very long, languid, private shower that had involved a slick-soapy fist and fantasies of you wearing nothing but his varsity jacket. Mouth gaped in pleasure, head thrown back, nails biting crescents into the meat of Wally's shoulders as you rode him. He thrusted into you, slow, deep, ironclad arm around your waist to keep you where he wanted you. The thumb of his other hand rubbed your clit, pressing in, dragging out, as you whimpered, "too much," oversensitized after he'd taken his time eating you out.

Fuck, he wanted you. Had spent last night dreaming it, and then spent this morning outlining all the ways he'd take you apart until you begged him to stop. But he'd keep going. He'd fuck you until you reeked of him, were covered in him, filled by him. A soft and pliant and beautiful mess.

Wally was definitely at risk of developing a problem, already addicted to the way you didn't look right through him. He couldn't wait for you to arrive, had been up late like a kid on Christmas, counting down the hours. The clock at the end of the hall indicated it was time he headed to the parking lot, and his heart skipped a beat.

As he walked, he noticed a flash of movement inside a classroom and stopped to inspect. Wally opened the door, peeked around the doorframe, his brow furrowing in confusion as he watched Maddie rifle through the contents on the lowest shelf of the supply closet.

She was dressed in her usual attire with the addition of the oversized black sweater she'd entered the metaphysical world in though didn't usually wear. Her hair was more disheveled, even a bit greasier, which...weird.

While he enjoyed the act of getting clean, showers weren't actually necessary for the dead. Their last image in life preserved for all eternity. Sure, they could change their appearance; had some autonomy over it throughout the day (once, he and Rhonda had tried stick-and-poke tattoos. It'd been painful and the results horrendous, but worth trying again).

They could run miles on the track, go into anaphylactic shock, beat each other bloody... It didn't matter. They never changed, their bodies doing a factory reset as soon as their attention drifted to something else.

"Hey." Wally greeted, stepping further into the room, watching in interest as Maddie went about whatever the hell she was doing. "You good?"

She paused briefly but didn't turn to face him, instead crouching to pull open the cabinets beneath the shelves. Wally couldn't be certain, but Maddie seemed off; her presence heavier somehow. A similar sensation as the one that nagged at him when the hall was packed with living students. Like he had to make room for them.

"Does she feel different to you at all?" Your words echoed in his mind. Was this what you'd meant?

Wally glanced at the clock hanging over the chalkboard and realized he had two minutes to get to the parking lot. He didn't want to waste time analyzing Maddie's weird energy and shifted back to the door.

"Alright, well, great chat. Good luck with all of...that," Wally said, "Can't wait to hear about it later." Because Maddie would explain in Group why she was snooping through a classroom. Or, at least, she'd ask a relevant question that forced her to explain herself, as had been the case up until now.

He shook off the feeling of not right that shivered through him and headed for the parking lot, quickening into a jog once he pushed through the front door.

‗‗‗‗•‗‗‗‗

The rain had stopped by the time you reached the school. The parking lot was practically deserted with only a handful of other cars stationed about. Most of those few in the reserved slots near the door. Teachers. Maybe Principal Hartman or Mr. South.

You pulled into a spot further from the building, preempting how packed the lot would be once classes were in session. As decent a driver as you were, trying to maneuver Aurora's boat of an SUV out of any tight space was a nightmare you wanted to avoid. Literally. Aurora's abilities extended to manipulating emotions and she'd have a trip making you believe the government or aliens or both were out to get you.

Although, honestly, with the anvil that had just been dropped on your head, you'd take a little high-key paranoia over the guilt that had inflated your stomach like a lead balloon.

Cutting the engine, you took a moment to sit with the text you'd received from Xavier on the way in. The text-to-speech had done little to dilute the gravity of what he'd sent, and it had spurred more unanswered questions about what had gone down last Friday.

"We found this in the woods near the school. There are more prints leading to a service road. We're getting somewhere, kiddo, I can feel it." The attached photo was of Maddie's ticket to Night of the Living Dead, stamped with a muddy boot print like it'd been dropped and trampled in a harrowing escape.

Your mind raced. Tried to connect the dots. Leads like red strings linked one fact to the next, the conspiracy board turned into a Robert Forman artwork, yarn-bombed to hell the more theories you added to it.

Slumping over the steering wheel, you rested your head in the cradle of your arms and clamped your eyes shut. A memory blotted across the back of your lids, ink on water, and the guilt in your gut worsened.

You walked with Hana and Eli, Mathilda several feet ahead of you as she barreled into the APEX. Night of the Living Dead was her favorite franchise, a diehard zombae from head to toe who had dressed the part of Barbara for the night's event. She'd bunched her hair under a blonde wig and had acquired vintage articles to piece together the perfect outfit.

Meanwhile, you and the others had gone for more of an homage. Faces painted sickly and pale, donned in matching white tees with the movie poster printed on the front. Yours had been three-of-yous too big, having left the order up to Eli, but you'd managed to tailor it into a decently fitted mini-dress. Threw on a pair of laddered, black tights and tall chelsea boots; and topped the ensemble off with your signature leather jacket. Saved it.

"Oh~ my god you guys are so slooowww!" Mathilda complained, rolling from her heels onto the balls of her feet impatiently.

You shook your head and cast about you, signaling to her how empty the concessions area was. "There are seven people here, Tilly, including us. I think we're fine."

Although Split River had a healthy population of horror fans, you didn't expect them all to swarm the APEX for the first of its seasonal specials. The crowds usually got crazier closer to Halloween.

"And they're assigned seats," Hana added with a snicker as she stole Mathilda's place in line and rocked up to the cashier, already spouting the group order.

"Is he coming in or what?" Eli asked, referring to Simon who you had left at the entrance to wait for Maddie and Xavier.

You watched Simon pace the length of the sidewalk outside the cinema's large windows, texting who you assumed was Maddie for the fourth time since you'd met up with him. When you'd suggested Maddie and Xavier might already be inside, Simon had scoffed, dismissing the notion as if you'd suggested the Earth was flat.

As far as you knew, Maddie had successfully invited Xavier to attend. Whatever was holding them up might've had to do with why Xavier had asked you to send another false text about band practice during Homeroom. You figured the receipts were for Xavier's father, the Sheriff determined to keep Xavier on a leash that had been shortening in recent weeks.

"Should we tell him we'll meet them in there?" Hana wondered, offloading on you one of the two massive barrels of buttery popcorn she'd ordered.

You gave Eli a pleading look, "You mind telling him? And text Zav while you're at it. Maybe Maddie's phone died."

"Got it." Eli cheerfully accepted his mission command, jogging to the entrance and out the door.

You lingered for a moment to watch the exchange. Thumbnail between his teeth and full attention on his phone, Simon hardly acknowledged Eli at all.

"The guy's obsessed," Hana commented, shifting uncomfortably as she followed the scene beside you. "Has he always been that unhealthy for her?"

You shrugged, asking yourself the same thing. You weren't super close to Simon and Maddie, and had no benchmark for what constituted as normal in their friendship, but the fact that Simon had called her repeatedly and refused to join your group until Maddie was in front of him raised a few red flags.

Eli caught up to you as you and the others herded into the theater, "He said it's fine." He reported, "Guess we'll catch up after the movie." Since your seats and Simon, Maddie, and Xavier's were several rows apart.

"And you texted Zav?" You asked, sidling along behind Hana and dropping into your seat.

"Yeah, but he hasn't texted back. Whatever," Eli grabbed a generous handful of popcorn off the top of the pile in your bucket and shoved half of it into his mouth, "Knowing our boy, he probably convinced Maddie to do something else."

But Xavier hadn't. And by the time you'd thought to ask him what had happened, Sheriff Baxter had already started investigating Maddie's 'disappearance'.

Simon had known something had been wrong and you'd dismissed it completely. Maybe, if you'd taken it seriously, you and Simon could've returned to the school, caught Mr. Anderson red-handed, and Maddie would be safe and sound.

There was a tap at your window. You didn't have to look to know it was Wally, the connection between you and him purring to life. In one swift movement, you climbed out of the car and flopped against Wally's chest, allowed him to take your weight in a physical act far too familiar for two people who'd essentially just met.

It is what it is, you ceded, lacking the mental fortitude to care very much. You could only handle one thing at a time right now. And besides, you'd had Wally's tongue down your throat and his hands on your ass, surely a cuddle wasn't going to offend.

After a minute of silence, "You okay?" Wally asked.

You leaned back on a disgruntled harrumph. Raised your arms in a childish request for uppies that Wally obliged instantly. He lifted you up, cradled you like a toddler, and dotted your head and the side of your face that was accessible to him in sweet, little kisses.

You relaxed into him, the stress of your earlier thoughts easing away. You wanted to spend the rest of the day like this; held, looked after, protected.

"You wanna talk about it?" Wally muttered quietly.

Immediately, you grumbled, "No," however, "I know I have to, though."

Wally's chuckle hummed through you where you were pressed against him.

"Alright, baby." He said, "Let's go," and he placed you delicately back on your feet. Just as you made to move away from the car, Wally stopped you with a gentle hand on your elbow, "Aren't you forgetting something?"

You looked at him inquisitively. He jerked his chin over your shoulder, grin simpering, and when you checked, you couldn't repress the groan of despair that charged out of you.

"God dammit, how am I getting worse at this?" You demanded to know, sliding back into the driver's seat and, subsequently, back into your body which was still folded over the steering wheel.

💀___________________________

PART ELEVEN - PART THIRTEEN

also available on AO3!

MASTERLIST

[arimiaromage]

I do not trust wisely.

throwing out my thoughts before chapter 251 of d.gray-man releases. spoilers for up to chapter 250 below!!

disclaimer: I don't hate wisely. I really like him. but I don't trust him right now.

I don't trust his actions right now. before chapter 250, I was sure wisely was going to be the new "leader" of the noah now that the earl is somewhat out of commission, either outright or by pulling the strings/giving suggestions to other members. road wasn't really the leader of them but they looked to her for answers about the things they didn't because she was the one that had stuck around the longest (such as when tyki's scars are aching) and was clearly the closest to the earl.

wisely is already suspicious of nea before this...

and when he approached the earl, wisely made a few comments about it, urging the earl to leave.

but he has an extra thought in chapter 224 about how he specifically won't let him cross paths with nea ever again. not really sus, I mean nea did kill the noah and try to kill the earl and the earl is clearly Not Over It, so makes sense.

but as they leave, wisely and tyki have a very specific exchange.

not only did wisely apparently let bookman go before they could find out more info, but wisely seems to know full well about nea- possibly being the reason he let bookman go, before bookman could tell the others who the earl and nea actually are.

specifically, wisely says "even if you don't find it out from me, you'll find it out eventually" and thinks to himself how this information will hurt tyki. that, to me, sounds like he knows most of the secrets of mana/nea. otherwise, how would he know that it will be so damning to tyki?

that brings us back to chapter 250, where they're interrogating apocryphos. I suspect the main goal of this was to find the heart rather than information on nea.

however, apocryphos can't help but jab at the ignorant noah who are in way over their heads, letting it slip that tyki has some deep connection to nea. wisely of course responds naturally by—

—destroying apocryphos' head, preventing him from talking until he heals. he claims it's because there's no use in interrogating him any further, that they've already got as much info as they can. that marks the 2nd interrogation victim he's let loose before the rest are ready.

with nea and the mention of 35 years ago being brought up, there's still tension in the air and sherril isn't about to let it go. remember, he's still pissed about road being hurt so badly trying to protect allen (because she wouldn't protect nea, right?)

and here it's finally brought up that, despite road being the only true survivor (aside from the earl), wisely has more knowledge about the events due to his demonic eye. he's finally being called out for possibly withholding the truth from them.

and what does he do? deflect it immediately. "it's not my fault, it's the fault of the previous wisely!"

okay, let's really dissect this page.

he starts off with apologizing, saying that the reason the other noah can't remember the tragedy is because the knowledge was so devastating the previous wisely locked it away (I guess before he died?? how does that work).

specifically, "to know nea is to know 'mana'". wisely knows who mana is, whereas the other noah only know that nea called the earl mana which made him cry.

the part I think most important is this- how conflicted he looks when thinking about the earl. he's not thinking about the noah here, he's thinking about the earl's safety. about mana.

why is he so conflicted?

let's go over some more stuff real quick.

wisely knows tyki looks suspiciously just like nea

2. nea isn't just a noah, he's the earl

3. SOMETHING happened to adam to make him disappear/split into mana/nea and is most likely connected to the noah & innocence

with all of these things in mind, this leads me to believe this...

wisely is keeping the info about mana secret to get the earl to destroy the world

not really a big shocker, but let me explain. the goal of the noah is to see the end of the world and aid the earl in that, but we've learned that the earl acts somewhat as a ticking time bomb, as he is the one that brings about the end days.

that is the goal of all of the noah, but road has been apprehensive about it because the current earl is mana. she wants him to be safe, and when cross urged her to help him save mana, instead of scoffing at the idea she starts crying and saying she can't because she's a noah. she wants to save him but being a noah cancels that out.

but our wisely didn't grow up with mana & nea. wisely didn't witness nea kill their entire family, mana kill him in return, and quickly descend into madness. wisely has secondhand memories so he doesn't have that emotional attachment.

this is why I felt wisely would be the new "leader". he has the insight to know that the earl = mana and that nea is part of the earl but doesn't have the emotional baggage road has. this gives him the best opportunity to see the noah's goal to the end, to push the earl over the edge and make him destroy it.

how would the rest of the noah feel if they found out the earl they've known their entire life isn't 7000 years old? that he was raised as a human just 50~ years ago? that the earl can die?

and worse-

how would the noah feel if they found out a personality of the earl was the one what slaughtered them all?

it would absolutely fracture them, possibly worse so than the exorcists finding out about apocryphos. the man they trust as their leader, who they feel in their souls a deep connection to, isn't even actually him and the man that killed them was supposed to be their leader.

that's why I feel like wisely is still keeping secrets. if he does actually know who mana/nea are, then it doesn't make sense for him to reveal this info so easily. I don't know what he's going to do next as the scene cuts there with him supposedly revealing the secrets, but I have a fear he's either only revealed a small part of it or worse, created a new lie about mana/nea to show them.

maybe he's telling the truth??

there's always a chance I'm grasping at straws, but from what I've seen it just doesn't make sense to me for him to reveal "everything" about mana/nea to the other noah, ESPECIALLY TYKI, so quickly. sherril snaps at him and he immediately folds. we've seen such careful character motivations thusfar from everyone else and I doubt hoshino would stumble here, on such a pivotal plot point.

so yeah, I don't believe wisely when he says he's going to reveal everything. he has the best shot out of all the noah to bring about the apocalypse and it doesn't make sense for him to fumble that now.

thanks for being a lil shit wisely, love you

[aria-greenhoodie]

Hey guys did you know I have a gravity falls oc. They’re definitely not wish fulfillment self insert material don’t worry about it. Don’t even worry about it, man.

Click for Quality! Silly backstory stuff below the cut ↓

- They’re a little cartoon creature from a pocket universe! They’re an immortal creature like Bill, but way less powerful.

- They actually used to work at the theraprism, but went crazy and had a mid-immortality crisis leading to a manic crime-spree. During this turbulent time, they also developed their love for “projects.”

- A “project” to them is basically becoming obsessed with a person they find interesting and getting closer to them by any means necessary in order to study them like a bug. This isn’t romantic, and it isn’t even friendship, but instead a secret third evil thing.

- When they have a project going on, they’ll devote most of their time and energy to the person(s) involved, and they typically seem very content while doing so. Once a project stops interesting them, or if a project is cut short by outside forces (death if the person, sudden change of heart from the person, being caught and dragged to the theraprism, etc) they become restless, easily irritated, and sometimes mildly violent. Their little projects are basically the only thing that keeps them sane.

- Doesn’t really do “friends.” Used to, but it always ended poorly. Prefers their projects; if they loose interest, they can just leave!

- Had a mentor-apprentice type relationship with the Axolotl before their mental decline. Is now VERY conflicted about him; doesn’t like the disappointment in his eyes when he looks at them.

- Was Bill’s Roommate for a time. Was absolutely FASCINATED by Bill’s fucked up mentality. Instantly became one of their favorite projects.

- Bill HATED them like crazy. They would not stop talking to them and had an uncanny ability to make him open up about things he did NOT want to open up about.

- Lost access to Bill after the TBOB incident, since he was moved to solitary confinement.

- Did not take the sudden cancellation of their project well. Ended up breaking out of the Theraprism shortly after.

- Ended up in Gravity Falls by sheer coincidence. Immediately took a liking to the place for its weirdness (felt at home).

- Met the Pines family and became ENRAPTURED with Stanley. Started off just seeing him as a project, but eventually came to view him as something closer to a friend (or perhaps more :3).

- Mabel and them are BESTIES. Mabel loves to treat them like a little dress up doll and they love to model all of Mabel’s mini fashion creations. They also respect her chaos.

- Has a huge respect for Dipper’s curiosity. Has gladly acted as a test subject for him so he can be like Ford and research weird creatures.

- Ford does NOT trust their ass. They eventually form an (somewhat uneasy but otherwise amicable) alliance as time goes on, but Ford never fully bonds with them. He’s been burned by a chaotic multi-dimensional immortal criminal before, he doesn’t want to do that again. Curly gets it. They heard how Bill treated him from Bill’s own mouth (eye?) and have no plans to play copy-cat.

- Stan didn’t like them at first. They reminded him too much of Bill, and acted far too chummy with him specifically far too fast.

- Eventually the two grew closer, realized they had a lot in common (both criminals familiar with the grift, both have a tiny bit of a flair for showmanship, both have similar senses of humor, etc.) and became friendlier.

- The Axolotl knows where they are and is monitoring them closely. They don’t know he’s doing this. He plans to keep it that way.

[joelslegalwhre]

Paddock Pass pt.3

One of max‘s love languages (at least in this fic) is physical touch, don‘t try to convince me otherwise. (I didn’t include the country/name of the gp by purpose, please don’t be confused haha) Sooo are you ready for some angst, some drama and a good time? Buckle up friends, it‘s gonna be a bumpy ride.

(You ever get distracted by Pedro Pascal tiktoks and spent an hour on your phone?…I‘m asking for a friend)

Thank you so much for the love on the first two parts! I‘m beyond grateful for every comment, reblog and like🩶

pairing: max verstappen x fem!reader, dad!toto wolff x reader

word count: 3.1k

warnings: angst, fluff, toto being a bitch (or is he just a protective dad?), bad dad-daughter dynamics, unapproved relationship, cursing, insults, mutual pining turning into more, max has fallen head over heels, they act like an old married couple and don‘t even notice, kissing, light make out session at the end, not proofread

summary: After a horrible qualifying, Max manages to win the race. When he sees you afterwards, and looses all of his elf control. Which Toto doesn‘t welcome one bit. Oh what a simple kiss can do. But was it just that, a simple kiss?

Masterlist || taglist || part one || part two || part three

"Sorry but this is P15 Max, P15." his race engineer spoke through the radio, "Yeah, of course it is." Max answered annoyed. What should it have been? P1? Surely not, after his engine had started misfunctioning and in the end stopped working all together. He had the best lap time of them all, but with ten minutes left of q2, someone else would eventually drive faster than him. 

As he got out of the car, you could practically feel the bad mood he was in. Everyone who knew Max, could. And if it was you who just got out of your car, not being able to finish the qualifying that was looking so promising, you would've wanted to punch something. 

It was surprising you, how 'calm' he stayed. Max had temper, and you liked that, but sometimes it got a little out of hand - him kicking the car or not talking to anyone for hours -. Not this time, though. 

When he came back to the garage, his car still parked on the gravel, he took off his helmet, and walked straight to you. "You coming with me?" he asked, helmet in one hand, running the other through his slightly damp hair. "Yeah, of course." you nodded and got up from your seat. 

You followed him out of the garage, trying to keep up with his fast steps. He was practically running to the Red Bull facility. 

Max noticed your attempt to catch up to him, and slowed down, waiting for you. "Sorry." he said and continued walking, his steps still quick, but manageable. 

As Max and you were walking to the Red Bull facility, all eyes were glued on the two of you. Everyone eager to get a shot of Max.

You felt Max's fingers brush against your own, intertwining them with yours. It was his way of trying to stay calm, the warmth of your hand soothing him and helping him, not to do something he'd regret later. 

You felt your cheeks getting warm at the gesture. You loved when he did that. It was an indication of the trust that he had in you, like a security blanket. 

"Max?" you asked him, your voice quiet but still loud enough for him to hear you. "Hm?" You looked at him, giving his hand a gentle squeeze, "You'll win the race tomorrow, it doesn't matter where you start," you gave him a lopsided smile, "You always win." 

His want to kiss you almost got the better of him. All me managed to do instead was to brush his thumb over yours, holding your hand just a little tighter than before. 

"And that's the last corner before the straight!" the commentator almost screamed into the mic, "I can't believe he did that," he continued excitedly, "That's it! Max Verstappen wins the Grand Prix, starting from P15!" 

You shot up from your seat, throwing your hands in the air. "Yes! There you go!" you shouted as if he could hear you, the excitement overwhelming. The garage was going insane, everyone hugging each other, cheering. You were right in the middle of it all, and it felt like a fever dream. You told him he'd win, but it was a lot of hard work to actually cross the finish line as first. 

You let out a deep breath, smiling at the TV as you saw Max driving back to parc fermé. All the mechanics and the rest of the team got up to gather there. "C'mon!" one of the mechanics nudged your shoulder, smiling at you. You mirrored his expression, following them outside. 

Max was still wearing his helmet when he ran towards your group and jumped into the crowd of mechanics that were shouting, whistling and cheering. When he was back on the ground, he shook hands with Christian, and some others, before he noticed you.

You still had a smile plastered on your face, that said "I told you." and even though he had his helmet covering most of his face, you knew he was also beaming.

Max slung his arms around your frame, lifting your feet from the floor, as he pressed you against his suited chest. Your arms found their place around his neck, and you hugged him as close as you could, with the helmet between you. 

When you let go of each other, you grasped his arms, something you did when you were excited or nervous, he had noticed. "You did it!" you squeaked and slightly jumped up and down with his arms still firmly in your grip. "You. Did. It." your voice was so full of joy and excitement, but above all you were so immensely proud of him. 

"You told me to," he said with a grin in his voice, as he freed his arms from your grip just to hold them in his again, "I couldn't disappoint my best girl." 

Just as he pulled you into another quick hug, you hoped that he couldn't feel your heart beating faster than his car passed the finish line. 

„"You better not." you joked.

You watched him going back to weight himself with his gear, taking his helmet off and running a hand through his hair, as he did so often. But after he did that, and put his helmet to the side, turning around. "Sorry," he said to the lady trying to talk to him, miles away. "I forgot something…"

Max almost ran back to the fence, where all of you were standing. You gave him a confused look, silently asking him what he was doing. 

The moment he reached you, still standing at your spot in the front, it turned into a curious one. Every part of your body was shaking, not knowing what to expect. 

„Is everything al-„ 

Max shut you up the second his hands cupped your face and his lips crashed down on yours. 

The kiss wasn't soft, and it wasn't harsh either, but full of desperation and longing. Full of all the emotions both of you had suppressed over the last months. It was perfect. 

Feeling his lips touch yours was a feeling like no other, you felt safe, protected and loved. You felt so much love through it, and if his hands wouldn't still cup your face, holding you up, your knees might've just given in.

As you parted, Max leaned his forehead against yours. "More than alright, actually." he whispered. 

Max didn't want to leave you there, he wanted to take your hand and go somewhere more private. Somewhere he could finally tell you just how much he loved you, how badly he needed you. 

"And now our winner, Max Verstappen!" He took a deep breath before he got onto the podium, waving to the crowd. He heard people cheering and whistling, and when he looked down to where you were standing, he couldn't contain his smile. You were holding your hands on both sides of your mouth, cheering him on with a loud "Whooow!"

You saw him looking at you and shot him a big smile, holding both thumbs up. 

Max chuckled as he took his place in the middle. When the anthems were playing, all he could do was stare at you. 

But soon all the bliss was gone, when Max was back in the garage with the trophy sitting on one of the tables, both of you seemed to remember that you were in fact not alone when you had kissed. 

Max had his arms wrapped around your waist, while you drew shapes on his arm. "Are you angry?" he sounded concerned.

"No!" Your answer came out quicker than you could think, and Max immediately let out a relieved breath. "Max," you almost whispered, "I‘d do it again, if that's what you mean." You were afraid to look into his eyes, so you kept your gaze fixed on his arms, "I don't care who has seen it, if my Dad did. I mean he probably did, and," Max interrupted your rambling by placing his fingers under your chin, making you look at him, "Babe," there it was again, the one small word. But this time you noticed it.

"Look at me." he continued. Max's voice was soft and quiet as he caressed your chin. "Don't worry about him, okay? We're in this together, and we'll manage it just fine." 

You knew he was just as worried as you were, but the way he tried to calm you made you love him even more. Love. You loved him. Max Verstappen. The boy who you never thought of saying so much as a "hello" to, accepting to just live with the crush you had on him. 

Your hands found his neck, and you slowly pulled him towards you, "Okay." was all you whispered before connecting your lips a second time. This kiss was shorter, a peck on the lips almost, but it was just as perfect as the first one was. 

"You ready to go?" he asked against your lips. "Mhm."  you answered, but your voice didn‘t have the same tone to it. 

The moment you intertwined your hands with Max's, you could hear your name being called, or more precisely, shouted.

You closed your eyes, taking a deep breath. "Here we go." 

Max gave your hand an encouraging squeeze.

"We got this." he kissed your hair and you both started walking towards the happening. 

Your Dad wasn't allowed to step foot into the Red Bull garage as someone from Mercedes, and there were already several securities keeping him from doing so.

Which didn't stop him from talking. 

"Du kommst jetzt mit." he told you to follow him. You knew his emotions were all over the place, when he started talking in his mother tongue. You could understand it most of the time, he raised you after all, but you rarely answered him in german. Since Max knew a good amount of german, he understood what he was saying. 

You didn't want to draw too much attention to the situation - clearly impossible - or start a fight right in front of them all, so you just dragged Max along with you as you followed Toto.

He seemed to know where he wanted to go, he was practically running. You just looked back at Max, giving him a look of "what the heck is this going to be". 

Max cared about you, more than you knew, more than he should be able to after just so little time. And if Toto just said so much as a wrong word or raised his voice, he could not hold back. The thought about what could follow for his work, long forgotten.

Toto stopped in his tracks so suddenly, that you almost ran into him.

"Are you done running now?" you asked him, already annoyed with how he was behaving.

"Oh I am, but trust me I'm not done with you, Fräulein."

You hated the word. He only ever used it when you were in trouble, and whenever someone called you it, you felt small. 

"Don't cal me that." you said coldly, "You know how much I hate it." 

"You know what I hate?" his voice sharp as he spoke, „When my daughter whores around with the opposite team. Like some Boxenluder?" 

Did he really just call you a pit babe? You could just scoff at him. It hurt that he seemed to think of you that way. 

„So that's what you think this is, Dad? Whoring around? Are you serious?" your voice didn't come out as strong as you wanted it to. 

"I took your pass and five minutes later you're hanging around his neck?" He almost spit the word 'him' out, as if it made him sick. "I really thought I raised you better than this, walking through the paddock sucking dick." 

Every word you wanted to say before that, got stuck in your throat at his words. What did he just say? 

"Dad, do you even hear yourself?" you whispered in disbelieve, and hurt. 

"Don't you dare talk to her like that." Max was on his last nerve now, and you could feel it. His whole body was under tension, and his hand was twitching towards yours. 

„Oh so you're going to tell me how I should do things now? Who do you think you are?" Toto mocked him. 

"Oh, I will if you don't stop acting the way you do." Max started, "Treating your own daughter like shit, just because she's not your clone," he let out a bitter laugh, "That's the lowest of the low." 

"Max," you whispered, looking up at him, taking his hand. But he couldn't let this go on. 

„If you don't like me, that's okay. It doesn't matter. But I swear to you, if you don't stop with this bullshit, treating her like she committed high treason, I'll find a way to get you kicked out of here." His voice was bitter, and you knew he meant every word.

"And trust me, I will." 

You've never heard him talking so coldly, threatening.

"Oh yeah right. Because the whole fucking paddock is yours," your hand tightened around Max's at the words leaving your Dad's mouth. "Dad." you said firmly. You hadn't raised your voice once since this started - much to Max's astonishment - but Toto didn't seem to care as long as you didn't shout it in his face. He wanted to say something else when you snapped, "Dad, dammit, listen to me for once!"

„I'm sick and tired of you acting the way you do! I can't change who I am, god I've said this so many times, I'm sorry that I'm not the kind of daughter you'd like to have." At this, you could see something in your Dad's facade start to break, but you didn't care anymore. 

"And you know what? I'm not at all sorry for being with Max. Believe it or not, but he has shown me more love in the past month, than I think you ever could." you felt the tears burning in your eyes again, but you could also feel Max's strong hand around yours, soothing you a little. 

"I'm a grown adult, Dad. So I would very much appreciate you coming to terms with the situation. And if you can't, I'm just sorry for you." 

Toto took a deep breath, but before he could say anything, you added, "I don't expect you to suddenly love Max or be okay with whatever your problem is. But if you love me just the slightest bit, just try to, Dad." 

Without anything further, you took Max's hand in yours, gaining a sour stare from Toto. And you couldn't care less. 

You left your Dad standing in the little corner between the motor homes.

"Are you okay?" Max asked with a worried tone. "No." you answered him quietly. 

Of course, you weren't, but Max wanted to make sure how you felt. He began caressing your hand with his thumb, while he was guiding you to the Red Bull motor home. 

He walked straight to his drivers room, knowing it would be quiet and private. "Hey Max, do you have a second?" Helmut waved at him. "Not now okay? Sorry." Max shot him an apologizing smile, but when Helmut's eyes wandered to you, he understood, giving the two of you an encouraging nod. You tried your best to smile at him, before Max led the way up to his drivers room. 

You've been in there several times, but this time, you were happier than ever for this small space of privacy. 

"Come here." Max  patted his lap. He had already sat down on the small couch on the other end of the room. You walked over to him and cuddled up in his lap. He was warm and his smell engulfed you. You took a deep breath. 

"Thank you."

Max looked down to where your head was resting on his shoulder, his arms wrapped tightly around you. "For what?" 

"For putting him in his place, for sticking up for me," you nuzzled your face deeper into him, "For being there for me, I guess." 

You could feel Max moving underneath you, and then you felt his lips on your hair. "I'd do it again, as many times as possible. I hope you know that." 

You looked up, still in his embrace. "I do." A small smile crept upon your lips. 

You looked into his eyes, and all you could see in them was honesty and, you dared to think, love. Your hand gently cupped his cheek, and you run your fingers over his stubble.

"Can you please just kiss me now?" you whispered to his lips, as Max could only stare at you. 

He wasted not a second, reuniting his lips with yours. 

The familiar feeling of his lips touching yours, almost made him groan into the kiss. 

He had watched you walk through the paddock for years. The thought that you'd never be wearing one of his team shirts stung with him, but he'd be happy to just talk to you. That's all he ever dreamt of, and now look where he was.

You parted your lips from his, just for a second, to swing your leg over his lap to straddle him. "You have no idea how long I've dreamed about this." Max said, his eyes taking you in while his fingers tucked a stand of hair back behind your ear. "Yeah? Then why are you still talking?" you teased him, but letting him know that you felt exactly the same when he silenced you with his lips. 

Getting to taste you as his tongue moved over the softness of your lips, he could've died happily right then. The sounds of content, mixed with small moans of pleasure filled the room as you deepened the kiss. Max hands had found their way to your waist to pull you even closer. You enjoyed every second of it, the way his tongue felt against yours and the overwhelming feeling of contentedness. 

Panting heavily, you were forced to pull back. Your foreheads still touching, eyes closed.

"I'll always be there for you, I promise." Max whispered against your lips. His hands cupped your waist, drawing little shapes with his thumbs. 

Your own hands were placed in his hair, gently caressing him.

You placed your lips back on his, a silent promise that you would, too, not leave his side.

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here‘s my kofi if you‘d like to leave a tip 🩷

[snuggles-and-struggles]

Have had this weird spin off vampire idea stuck in my head for a few days now. Based on an older idea but changed up a bit.

Edge and Red are hunters of the supernatural. They predominantly specialize in vampires, given their abundance, but they'll stop anything attempting to harm innocent lives. Red had been trained by his mentor, and in turn trained Edge as they grew up, making them an incredibly efficient duo.

But sometimes, it takes more than two to get the job done. There's a whole network of hunters who are open to allying themselves with others, and a few the brothers could even call friends, so when they're nearby and catch wind about a small group needing backup for something, it's an easy decision to head out.

It goes wrong, though. There were more than they'd realized, walked right into a "den", deep within secluded forest. The fight was brutal, and not everyone from the group survived.

Including Edge.

Or...for the most part. The remaining hunters had no choice but to retreat, and he'd been separated from them during his own share of fighting, mortally wounded and too obscured in the darkness for them to see his body collapsed, though not yet dust.

He'd lost too much magic, lying on the cold, damp ground, growing delirious and numb. But then, something appears in his vision, too blurry and shadowed to make out, but when they speak he knows it's a stranger, in his dying moments.

I can save you, but it'll cost you everything.

The only thing Edge can think about is desperately clinging to life. He needs to survive. He needs to get back to his brother. He needs to live.

And then darkness claimed him.

Drawn by the scent of bloodshed and violence, Stretch (likely with a different nickname) finds the remains of what appeared to be a vicious brawl between mortals and otherwise. Except...he can hear the pulse of a soul still, slow and weak. Oh.

He'd been turned a very, very long time ago, yet he'd never turned another. Looking down at this poor monster, barely clinging to his last shreds of life, he wants to. It's selfish, unforgivable – but he wants to.

The monster is fading quickly, he doesn't have time to deliberate, so, crouching, he asks. He has to, he...has to try to ask at least. And sure enough, the monster nods, choking on a wet cough and jaw working as he tries to agree further and his suffering doesn't need to go on just to soothe Stretch's guilt.

The earliest days after being turned are difficult. The bloodlust is insatiable and if they are too weak willed, they succumb to its madness entirely. It's painful. Grueling. It goes on for weeks, only beginning to get easier as it turns into months. The transition itself is nearly as unforgiving as its outcome, despite so little outward change occurring.

Stretch diligently helps Edge through it. Using his karmic enhanced magic to determine who he can feed to Edge with little regret, preventing him from hurting himself or getting loose and hurting others, comforting him when there's nothing else he can do.

As Edge gradually comes back to himself, he is, as expected, furious with Stretch. He appears to have extremely strong and negative opinions on vampires, which Stretch can understand. But still. He's too "new" to leave alone, and Stretch tells him only the truth of why he'd turned him and how to handle the changes.

The first few years are...difficult. Physically, Edge actually adapts much better than most do, but mentally, much, much worse. Which is understandable, Stretch reasons, after finding out he'd been a hunter with a hatred specifically of vampires.

Resentful, hateful, and miserable as he is though, Stretch refuses to simply abandon him. And, eventually, as the years grow in number, Edge comes to trust Stretch. Perhaps he hadn't understood vampires as well as he'd thought, and while it does still hang over him, he...begins to at least be somewhat grateful he isn't dead. Or...gone, rather.

The story just follows them as they grow closer, and as Edge adapts to being a fucking vampire. Lots n lots of hurt comfort. Even sometimes hurt no comfort. But also fluff. And sort of enemies to friends to lovers.

Things get a lot more complicated when Red finds out Edge is still alive. On a hunt for "two unusually powerful vampires", no less. I haven't rotated that bit enough to be cemented on where it would go after that, but I did think abt them adopting a street orphan Frisk who ran away from the church orphanage where they were being treated horribly n the boys r just like. Holy shit that's a baby. And adopt them. Idk if that'd be "canon" to the "main story" though.

Anyways they of course fall in love n kiss a bunch. The end. -party popper-

[papayatori]

A Long December

Suna Rintaro x fem!reader

Chapter Three

Prev- -Next

Masterlist

written portion

“Osamu, we’re trusting you with the keys tonight.” Atsumu said, sitting in the passenger seat of Samu’s car. I slumped into the back, upset that he had beaten me to the front seat. He stuck his tongue out at me in response.

“That’s fine.” Samu grumbled. “Why am I going again?” Tsumu rolled his eyes.

“Because I can’t trust y/n by herself, and I already made a vow to get drunk off my ass tonight.”

I glared at Tsumu.

“What do you mean I can’t be trusted?” I said, crossing my arms. “If anything I’m the most trust worthy of the three of us.” I huffed. Both of them turned to give me a look, telling me they believed otherwise.

“Yeah.. alright.” Samu said, starting the car and driving down the road.

“Holy shit..” he grumbled, eyeing the road that was full of cars. “I thought it was just going to be the volleyball guys?”

We all shared a look of confusion as we got out of the car, the music blaring already from outside of Suna’s apartment, the smell of alcohol already present in the air.

We walked inside, the smell hitting me like a truck and the heat from dancing bodies radiating through us.

“Damn..” I coughed, pinching my nose. “Is this what you meant by the smell, Samu?” He snorted.

“It’s never been this bad… I’ll admit..” he groaned, having to yell over the music. Atsumu had already disappeared into the crowd of college students, and Samu had started walking to god knows where, leaving me to my own devices.

I was starting to have second thoughts about coming here. Though, that’s when I heard a voice from beside me.

“Y/n!” He said to me, and I turned to see Bokuto beside me. I grinned at the familiar face.

“Hi!” I said, and before I could do anything he grabbed my wrist, tugging me deeper into the house.

“We’re playing beer pong.. you should join us.” He said excitedly, it was clear in his expression that he was already tipsy. I shrugged, accepting defeat and following him into one of the rooms. It had a table set up with a group of other familiar faces, one of them being Atsumu.

“Hi y/n!” He said excitedly, waving me over. I stood beside him as he groaned, missing his shot by a mile. I looked up to see his opponent staring at me.

“This is y/n?” I heard who I assumed was Suna say from across the table. Tsumu grinned.

“Yep!” He said as Suna threw a ball with precision, causing Tsumu to groan. I laughed as he chugged the alcohol in the last cup.

“You’re awful at this Tsumu…” I snorted, the others laughing with me. He glared at me.

“I’d like to see you do better!” He said, huffing and setting up the next game. I grinned, doing just that.

I played a few rounds, not sure if I was winning or loosing and already feeling the dizziness of the alcohol starting to settle. My skin prickled with sweat and buzzed delightfully from the drinks I had had to take. My vision was blurry, and I could barely make out the cups in front of me as I threw the pong ball.

“You know, you’re not very good at this.” I heard Suna mumble, a small smile on his face. I glared at him.

“Yeah, that’s why I’m winning.” I said confidently, even though I was obviously not. He snorted.

“If you call a fat hangover tomorrow winning, I guess you could say that.”

Suna and I continued to play through the night, and eventually I had started to feel my legs weakening. I sat down for a minute, head resting against the back of the chair as I watched Suna and Keiji play a few rounds. I’m not sure wether it was the alcohol or maybe just the overstimulation I was feeling in the moment, but I couldn’t tear my eyes away from Suna, or his arms flexing as he threw the ball with grace across the table to Keiji’s side. His smirk caused a tinge in my stomach that wouldn’t go away the longer I looked at it. Every time he looked up and caught my gaze, I felt like my entire world had stopped spinning, and suddenly I felt the urge to vomit.

I stood from my spot, sending Tsumu a look that he caught immediately.

“Dammit already?” He groaned, catching my arm and tugging me mercilessly through the crowded hallways of Suna’s apartment to the nearest bathroom.

The cool tile floor eased the ache of my feverish skin as I slumped over the toilet, Atsumu laughing a little behind me as he held my hair back.

“I thought I was going to be the first to puke tonight… I guess you proved me wrong, huh?” He laughed.

“He looked at me…” I mumbled as I wiped my mouth, lying on the bathroom floor to cool off. He gave me a glance.

“What?”

“He looked at me…” I said, grinning like an idiot. I saw the gears turning in his head, and suddenly it clicked for him.

“Oh.. no.. no no no no…” he grumbled. “Don’t tell me you’re talking about Suna… god dammit y/n..” he groaned, knowing my track record with men.

“What’s so bad about it?” I asked, my words slurring as in started to laugh. He shook his head, making my world spin a little bit from the movement.

“You’ll obsess over him for like a week, and then I’ll never hear about him again.” He said plainly.

I sobered up from his comment slightly, but not enough to keep my head from spinning. I dipped back over the toilet again to let it out, and that was the last thing I remembered in the morning.

Though, Tsumu was right… right?

—————

taglist: @gigiiiiislife @mochiwochi

[literatecowboy]

The Rattlesnake County War

Following a botched cattle rustling job, a lone surviving outlaw finds herself thrust into a conflict between ranchers bigger than any she'd been embroiled in before. A Sheriff!Price x Outlaw!Reader fic; MDNI please; reader is AFAB and she/her pronouns are used but should otherwise be ambiguous (if I can be more inclusive/there is somewhere where I can improve on making her more "friendly" to readers let me know pls!) Warnings: hanging, angst, death, stabbings, references to guns and shootings, execution, etc. Eventual smut. I intend to write 2 versions of this fic - more information can be found in the masterlist.

2. No Angel

Sheriff John Price lived in a house attached to the jail. It was a big wooden thing that stood at two stories and backed up to the Colorado river, which bent awkwardly around the town. 

You discovered this after the skirmish. Mr. Marshall had very quickly left to ride home after repeatedly assuring Price that he would make it there safely, leaving you alone with a man who abhorred your existence. You had mounted your horses and set off back for his home, as he still did not trust you to flee if you were not tethered to his side. 

As he busied himself with chores in the home you slipped out the back door and wandered down to the river. It was secluded enough - surrounded by trees and out of eyeshot of other people - so you elected to take a bath. 

You stripped as the sun went down, kneeling by the water and giving your clothes a thorough washing before hanging them to dry on the outstretched limbs of a nearby tree. As you returned to the water’s edge and waded in, the cool water rushing around your ankles, your throat constricted and your chest tightened. 

You were unable to stop the sob that ripped from your throat as you fell to your knees in the cool, waterlogged sand, clutching your throat as tears poured from your eyes. The noose you’d narrowly dodged cinched around your neck and pulled tight. You squeezed your eyes shut, gasping for breath as you tried to will away your panic, but the tears would not stop. 

The sound of your sobs was faint up at the house. John noticed them first, some time after you’d broken down, and stepped to the window, rifle in hand. Gaz joined him and they studied you as you knelt, naked and crying in the river, your back turned to them as it heaved with the force of your sobs. 

“Put the gun away, sir. She’s not doing anything wrong,” Gaz said, guilt tinging the corners of his voice as he pushed John’s rifle away from the window. 

“Don’t trust it. Could be an act to lure us down there,” John said stiffly. Gaz shook his head. 

“Well, it’s a damn good one if it is. I’m going to get her a towel,” he said, pushing past John and heading deeper into the house. He grabbed a spare towel from the shelf in his room and headed out the back door, marching with purpose down to the river.

You didn’t hear him approach, and when he called out to you, you were startled. At least you had finished bathing, you thought - you were about to be pulled away from your solace.

“Miss? Are you alright?” he asked. You whirled around, thankful that the water of the river was dark. He approached with a hand loosely covering his eyes, head turned toward the ground. The towel in his outstretched hand surprised you. 

“I’m okay,” you sniffled, eyeing him warily as you wiped your tears away. 

“You should get dried off, it’s going to get cold tonight. You can have this,” he said, setting the towel he’d retrieved on top a large rock on the beach. It was close enough for you to take a few steps forward and grab. Once he placed it, he backed off and gave you space. 

“Thank you,” you said. Your voice was as raw as the skin around your eyes and as rose from the river, taking the towel and wrapping it around your body. 

“You can uncover your eyes - and thank you, for not staring,” you said softly, stepping onto the sandy shore with weak legs. He did so hesitantly, but gave you a smile once he met your eyes. 

“There’s dinner, up at the house. I live with John here, being his deputy and all. We still need to fix you up a place to sleep, but you’re more than welcome to come in and eat while you wait,” he said, turning to walk back up the hill. 

“I think I will,” you said softly. 

—

John watched as Gaz headed back up the hill. As soon as his deputy made it inside and you were alone again, you dressed yourself, pulled on your boots, and set your hat on your wet hair. You went to pat your gun belt, and looked disheartened when you remembered it wasn’t there. 

“She didn’t kill me,” Gaz called as he headed for the kitchen to fix himself a bowl of stew. 

“I saw. I’m surprised,” John said, turning away from the window as you started to head up the hill. 

“Find somewhere for her to sleep yet?” Gaz asked, as he pulled out a chair and sat down heavily, sticking his spoon into the bowl. 

“The cell. Until she earns my trust,” Price grunted, fetching his own bowl and fixing himself a healthy portion of the stew. 

“That’s a little harsh, sir.” Gaz said. 

The door swung open and you stepped in, peering around with a wary gaze. Price jerked his thumb back at the stove. 

“Eat up. Won’t be more until breakfast and we’ve got things to discuss tonight.” he said.

—

You’d watch the sun set as you ate, pushing the carrots and chunks of meat around in your bowl until Sheriff Price left the table. Gaz had done his best to make conversation and you had engaged him, finding yourself warming to his kindness. 

As the night grew deeper and the fire in the hearth died, Price summoned you to the jail at the front of the house. He sat at his desk, which faced the cells, and you pulled up a chair beside the door to the kitchen where Gaz leaned in the doorway. 

Mr. Riley was the first to arrive and Mr. MacTavish came in not long after him. You listened as the four spoke between themselves, discussing the fight outside the saloon earlier in the day. 

“Not surprised they’re callin ye Wildcat, lass. You fight like a cornered tiger, I’m glad you’re on ma side!” Mr. MacTavish exclaimed, clapping his hands together and grinning at you. Mr. Riley rolled his eyes. Despite the fact that he was among friends, he still wore his black bandanna above his nose and his hat was pulled low over his eyes. 

“Stop flirting, Johnny. Don’t think she appreciates it,” he said, clapping a hand on Johnny’s shoulder and giving him a shake. Gaz snorted and you leaned forward in your seat. 

“Who were those men?” you asked. “What did they want with Mr. Marshall?”

John sucked in a breath and you turned your attention to him. 

“It’s a long story. This here’s a livestock town - cattle, to be specific. Mr. Marshall is a new player in this territory and some dislike competition.” he said, rising from his desk and drawing the shades of the window behind him. 

“Those thugs told him he should’ve sold when they came at him. I take it a larger rancher wanted to buy him out and force him out of town?” you asked, a frown splitting your features. 

“It’s a wee more complex than that,” Mr. MacTavish said. “See, James Marshall is an Irishman. Comes from poor stock in tae countryside, he does. Left home and caught tae boat over here as a teen, same as I did. Took up ranching and decided tae make somethin’ of himself. 

“There’s old English money in this county, ranchers the same as Marshall. Some folk don’t leave old world politics behind, and these folks don’t like the idea of a successful Irishman. Nor a Scot, for that matter!” Mr. MacTavish said, laughing and leaning back in his chair. 

“It’s more complex than that. I wager it’s about money. Money and control. They own everything in these parts and keep the townsfolk under their thumb, and they want it to stay that way,” Gaz said. 

“Truth is, it’s nuanced. But there’s two men who run two very large ranches in this county, and when others do business here, they’ve come to expect a piece of the pie.\,” Price said. 

“So they think they own the place,” you said, mulling everything over in your head. 

“Rattlesnake Point is theirs. The Old Kingdom has a hand in most everything around here from agriculture to politics,” Mr. Riley said. “That needs to be changed.”

—

Mr. Marshall came in not long after the conversation had switched to lighter topics. When he saw the gathered group, his face lit up. 

“Gentlemen, good to see you!” he said, shaking each man’s hand as he breezed through the room. He paused when he reached you, the smile widening on his lips. 

“My lady, you look lovely,” he said, taking your hand and raising it to his lips to press a gentle kiss to the back. You pulled away quickly and offered him an awkward smile. 

“I’m afraid your affections are wasted on me, Mr. Marshall. I am no fine lady,” you said. 

“Exactly. No lady would do as she does. Now, we must get to business. You are in grave danger, Mr. Marshall.” John said. You shot him a glare but he ignored you. 

“The deaths of the men who attacked you earlier will be seen as direct provocation, regardless of the fact that we were defending ourselves. We need to find a way to stop the Old Kingdom from retaliating,” John said. 

“We shouldn’t be on the defense - we need to hit them before they can hit us,” James urged, sitting down across from John at the desk and holding his hat in his lap.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea. These men are corrupt and they play dirty - provoke them more and they’ll do more than just run you out of town. They’ve already made an attempt on your life!” John exclaimed. 

“Mr. Marshall, we’d like to keep a rotation of trusted men on your farm. One of us will be there each day and night to protect you in the event of an attack on your ranch,” Gaz said, stepping forward. James shook his head almost violently. 

“No, I already have men in my employ who can protect me. We need to go for the head of this organization - we need to kill Mr. Cavendish and Mr. Sutherland!” James exclaimed. 

“That wouldn’t stop the loyalists from killing ye in retaliation. They’ve got men who’ll be loyal, even in death. Others will take over. I’ve heard talk, bold as all, in my saloon. The suffering will continue no matter what,” Mr. MacTavish said, rising from his chair and joining the other men in the heated conflict. You leaned back in your chair as the room erupted into arguing. 

Gaz had given you back your satchel after dinner, and you fished out your last, half-smoked pack of cigarettes. Producing one, you held it between your lips and struck a match on the heel of your boot, lighting it and taking a long drag. 

You stood, ground the match into an ashtray, and pulled the cigarette from your lips, exhaling with a long sigh. At the peak of the shouting, you slammed your fist down onto the desk, startling the men into silence. They watched you as you pondered for a moment, taking another drag on your cigarette. 

“You’re too quick to rush to the extreme option. Cutting the heads off the monster won’t accomplish anything,” you said, nodding your head at James Marshall. John looked pleased, and was about to speak, but you rounded on him. 

“You’re far too worried about doing anything dishonorable or illegal. Sticking to the letter of the law and doing nothing other than sending out a few men with guns won’t help anyone,” you said. The room was quiet now - all eyes on you. 

“We need to cripple the outfit. Burning, stealing, destroying - killing - is what we need to do. Then we kill it for good. And we need legal and illegal means of doing it.” you said. 

“It’s not just about James. It’s about all the people in this county that those big bastards have fucked over with their dealings. We need to end the reign of the Old Kingdom for good.”

—

A firm agreement was reached in the early hours of the morning. Long after the others had departed and Gaz had retired to his bunk, you found John in the kitchen nursing a whiskey. When you came in, he poured a healthy amount into a second glass handed it to you. 

“It pains me to admit that you were correct in what you said back there,” Price said after a long minute of drinking in silence. 

“Why does it have to pain you?” you asked, studying the sheriff. 

“Because I nearly killed you,” he said quietly, gazing into your eyes. There was a shine to his - the drink had revealed his softer side. 

“You were following the law. I am no angel, I–”

John laid his hand over yours and squeezed it, silencing you. 

“None of that, now. Go get some rest, Wildcat.”

You set your empty glass down and slunk off to your bunk.

---

[scarthefangirl]

One more day

Miguel O'Hara x fem!reader

Request: Can I request Miguel getting sick and the reader taking care of him?

Warnings: sickness, language,

Story type: blurb

A/N: sorry its so short!! I want to write more for him so feel free to request

Masterlist | REQUESTS OPEN

“I’m not sick.” Miguel says harshly. His eye bags, paler complexion, and barking cough say otherwise.

“Honey, there’s no shame in it.” I say, rubbing his shoulder gently. He pulls back, moving away from the screens surrounding him. His hair is disheveled and I notice the color drained from his face.

“I said I’m not sick. Now leave it alone.” He says, then has a coughing fit. I know he wouldn’t normally be so harsh if he wasn’t feeling so bad. He just doesn’t want to take a break.

“Miguel.” I try to reach for his hand but he pulls away roughly. He notices my sad expression and sighs.

“I can’t take a break. I’m working hard.” He softens his tone and steps closer to me. 

“I know you’re working hard. You’re overworking yourself though. They can run without you for a couple days, love.” I insist, then take the opportunity to put my hand to his forehead. “Oh Miguel you’re burning up. You have to go home with me for a bit.” 

“No.” He says firmly and I shake my head, turning on my heels and leaving the room. I run to find Jessica, and eventually pinpoint her.

“Jess, I’m so glad I found you. I need your help.” I panted, trying to catch my breath from running around looking for her.

“What is it?” She questions, looking at me quizzically.

“It’s Miguel. He’s sick but he won’t take a break. I’m worried about him.” I admit. Jessica looks at me with pity. 

“I don’t think I can help. If you can’t get him to take a break I certainly can’t.” 

“But if you could just tell him that things will be fine without him,” I press on. She looks at me for a moment, at first I’m sure she’s going to say no. But she sighs and says,

“I’ll try Y/N,” She humors me. We both know it won’t make a difference but I need her to try. When we arrive in Miguel’s ‘office’ he is sitting in a chair, hunched over. 

“Miguel, babe, me and Jessica are here.” I called out. He jumped up and faced us, immediately triggering a coughing fit. Me and Jess share a look and walk towards him. 

“Miguel, go home.” She instructs. He glares at her, although that’s his resting face. 

“So she got you on her side, did she?” He asks harshly. 

“We all want what’s best. We’ve got thousands of spider people here, we can run things without you for a bit.” Jess tells him. That’s what I said!

Miguel breathes heavily through his nose, scowling at us through his bloodshot eyes. “No.” He grunts. I finally snap.

“Miguel quit being so damn stubborn!! You need to go with me and take a break. You’re not being a good leader by staying here. It’s not heroic or whatever bullshit you think it is to stay here when you’re feeling sick. Now shut the fuck up and let me take care of you!” I yell. I notice the surprise register in his eyes while Jess nods, crossing her arms.

“Mhmm. You tell him.” She murmurs. I notice Miguel thinking and I can tell from his frown he is going to do what I want. 

“Fine.” He mutters. I run to him and throw my arms around him. 

“Thank you baby, thank you so much.” I say while hugging him. He waits for a long time before loosely hugging my waist. Jessica leaves the room and I press a kiss on Miguel’s lips. “I can come here every day and report back to you how it’s going. Now come on, let’s go home.” 

“You don’t have to do that, I trust them.” He says plainly. Then he coughs a bit. I pull away from him but take his hand in mine. 

“I’m sorry you’re sick.” I tell him, giving his hand a squeeze. 

“I know.” He presses a kiss on my head. We leave back to our reality, and our shared apartment. I go back every week to keep it clean and check our mail, paying bills and such. I lead him to the bedroom and make him take his suit off. We both take a quick shower. I notice his drowsiness and his condition is what I assume to be a bad cold.

Once we are both in comfy clothing, I make him get into bed. I tuck the blanket around him and put a cool washcloth over his forehead. I give him some medicine for his sickness and throw his suit in the wash.

I make him some soup and take it to him. I help him sit up, removing the wet rag. 

“Here, eat this. You need to keep your strength up.” I give him the bowl and a spoon. I curl up next to him, loving his warmth. He feeds himself a few bites then groans.

“I’m not finishing it.” He declares.

“Please? A few more bites at least.” I plead.

“You don’t bite soup.” 

“Shut up, you know what I mean.” I roll my eyes. He does what I asked and eats a bit more. I take the bowl back to the kitchen and rinse it off before putting it in the dishwasher. I begin to fill a glass with water for him when he calls out my name.

“Yes?” I shout back.

“What’s taking so long? Come back to bed.” He shouts. I feel my heart swell with happiness. He wants me to be with him. I hurry back to the room and set the glass on his nightstand. He is leaning against some pillows and I notice him almost falling asleep. “Thank you Mi Amor.” He mumbles.

“For what?” I ask while getting in bed next to him. I lay my head on his chest, cuddling into his side again. I wrap one arm around his torso and he puts one arm around my body. 

“For forcing me to rest.” He coughs before saying, “I don’t tell you enough that I love you.”

“You don’t have to, but I love you too.” After a few minutes Miguel falls fast asleep, and I do too not long after. The next day he rests up and by that night he is feeling better.

“It’s back to work tomorrow.” He says and I pout.

“They’re expecting you to be out at least two days. Can’t we take tomorrow off too? We can spend it together and relax and just have fun. Just one more day.” I beg him. He glares at me for a while but I give him puppy dog eyes.

“One more day.” He gives in. I kiss him passionately, happy to finally have him to myself. Even for just one more day.

~

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[4xthemoon]

Rain and Shine

Type: Short One Shot

Word count: 778

Relationship: Implied CapitanoxMavuika

Summary: Tartaglia tests Capitano’s patience when it comes to Mavuika-

————————-

Capitano wasn’t sure why the Eleventh Harbinger had shown up early one morning, or who suggested that he come, but he would make sure to find out.

At first, his presence was hardly noticeable. Tartaglia chose to converse more with Ororon, talking to him as an older brother might. He treated those under his command kindly, for the most part, and was quite good for morale, all loose hinges aside. Capitano didn’t care much, as long as work was getting done and he wasn’t personally disturbed.

So, when Tartaglia requested to accompany him on his way to the Stadium of the Sacred Flame, he saw little to no reason to decline. Tartaglia would go sightseeing, and he would discuss his allegiance with Mavuika. Unfortunately for him, with the Eleventh in particular, very few things ever went to plan.

“So, going to see your girlfriend then, are we?” Tartaglia’s voice was teasing and cheerful, blissfully unaware of the murderous glare aimed at him beneath his mask. Capitano had been aware of the rumors spreading like wildfire throughout his men, but it was no matter worth wasting time. So, he had left them to smother out, like all rumors eventually did. Tartaglia catching wind of them, was decidedly the worst thing that could’ve possibly happened.

“Whatever ideas have been planted in your head, it’d be wise to keep them buried.” There was a hint of growl in his otherwise even tone. The ginger laughed it off, smoothly shifting the one sided conversation to Natlan’s weather. Capitano hoped it was a slip in Tartaglia’s maturity and nothing more.

Usually Mavuika was busy in her office when the Captain arrived, dismissing whoever it was she was talking to, to begin their meeting. Today was slightly different, Mavuika was waiting by the entrance of the Stadium to greet him, her figure highlighted by the raging sun, as if it were hers to command. He ignored Tartaglia’s quiet whistle.

“I see you’ve brought a friend, Captain.” Mavuika adjusted her sunglasses to sit lower on her nose. “Care to make introductions?”

Capitano nodded once, his hand motioned to the man beside him. “This is the Eleventh Fatui Harbinger, Tartaglia. He is here to view the Stadium and will not be disturbing us.” Tartaglia shook his head playfully.

“No need to be so formal, Cap. You’re welcome to call me Childe.” Capitano resisted the urge to roll his eyes, thankful that even if he did, no one would be the wiser. The sight of Tartaglia interacting with Mavuika set him on edge, the lack of trust was evident. The sooner the younger Harbinger left, the happier he’d feel. Which is why when Tartaglia laughed, Capitano couldn’t help but narrow his eyes. “Say, I came to see the Stadium, but you’re the only sight I needed to see.”

Mavuika smirked, amusement clear on her face. Meanwhile Capitano was sure that if he weren’t attuned with Cyro, his anger would’ve boiled over. “That’s enough, leave us.” It wasn’t a suggestion, it was an order. The ginger raised his hands defensively, shooting a barely detectable wink at the Archon.

“Alright, alright. No need to tell me twice.” He quickly walked off. “Have fun!” He shouted when he had gotten a few feet away. Capitano’s muscles finally relaxed. Mavuika raised her brow at him.

“Surprisingly daft, and flirty for a Harbinger.” She observed. Capitano huffed.

“There is a reason he remains the Eleventh.” He had come to learn those reasons over the last week. He crossed his arms, glancing at the Harbinger in the distance. “He will most likely beg for a duel later, there’s no reason to indulge him.”

Mavuika rested her hand on her hip, following Capitano’s gaze. “You could learn a thing or two.” She paused. “And I could kick his ass easily.” His eyes narrowed.

“I do not need proof.” It was Mavuika’s turn to laugh.

“Sure you do.” She turned away from him, encasing Capitano in her shadow. “We should get to work, before your friend decides he’s ready for that duel.”

“I would not refer to him as such.”

—

After their meeting, Tartaglia had done just as Capitano said. And much to his relief, she declined his offer to clash blades. Tartaglia was in no position to fight considering how ill he was still after Fontaine, neither was Mavuika after the toll of war.

“Your men were right. You’ve got yourself quite the catch, Captain.” Tartaglia said nonchalantly on their way back. “Not many people could wrangle a star and call it theirs.”

“You are mistaken.” Capitano’s voice lowered. “Stars burn too much to be held.” And he could not bear that burn again.

[scarabsinthestardust]

Better in the Morning // Ch. 12

MASTERLIST

word count: 1600+

This is very much a filler chapter and might be kinda dumb, but it will be important for some stuff later on down the road. (***I have edited the original since posted, just some minor details that were bothering me)

CHAPTER WARNINGS: Language; Drinking; talks of alcoholism, drunk driving, car accidents, staying sober

When Finn came to Nashville initially, he and Josh hit it off very well. They had an immediate connection that any outsider might describe as ‘love at first sight,’ as cheesy as it sounded. They were seemingly inseparable, spending most of their spare time together. I wasn’t deeply involved in either of their sex lives, but I’d been told they hooked up on more than one occasion. They never made it official, though, which didn’t surprise me. Between Finn having to go back to Colorado for work and Josh eventually going on tour again with the band, they probably felt like a steady relationship wasn’t viable. Never mind the fact that I had never seen Finn commit to a relationship with anyone.

Jake and I briefly discussed it, and he expressed his concern that Finn was using Josh, leading him on. I was confident that was not the case, and assured him that Finn was more than capable of communicating what he wanted to Josh. He would make things clear, ensuring that the two were on the same page. And Josh never gave anything away that led me to believe otherwise. Jake had a hard time trusting Finn, although at the time I couldn’t figure out why.

The next time Finn came to town, however, Josh was beyond excited to see him again. And his excitement only grew when Finn told us that he’d be staying in Nashville for good, only occasionally having to travel out of state when his job required it. 

Josh invited everyone over for a get-together and movie night at his house. I came bearing a couple bottles of liquor, with the full intention of letting loose. It was the usual crew, along with a few of their friends I had met a couple of times. We watched some cheesy, B-rate horror flick and spent the evening socializing. I was having a pretty good time, but when I tried to strike up a conversation with Josh, it was like we were back to square one where he didn’t trust me. He stuck to one- or two-word responses and avoided looking directly at me until he excused himself to go pay his attention somewhere else. I was confused and irritated at his behavior, but I didn’t want to make a scene in front of his guests, so I opted to address it later.

I had been mingling until I got roped into mediating a debate between Sam and another partygoer over some big-time pop artist I didn’t care about. At some point, I glanced over and noticed Jake and Josh through the sliding glass door on the back patio deck. They looked like they were arguing. I excused myself and started heading their way to see what was going on.

The argument didn’t appear too heated. It looked more like Josh was one who was pissed off, and Jake was trying to calm his twin’s anger. I probably should have kept my distance and let them work it out, but I’m nosy to a fault, and I needed to know if it had anything to do with me. The way Josh looked at me when I joined them outside seemed to answer my question. He rolled his eyes and stormed past me, slamming the door shut behind him.

Jake sighed and rubbed a hand over his face.

“Wanna tell me what that’s about? What’d I do to piss him off this time?”

“Uh… he’s just…” Jake turned to meet my eyes, an almost… disappointed look on his face. “Actually, I’m a little confused, too. Why’d you insist on bringing liquor tonight?”

That was a weird question, and I had no idea what he was aiming at. “Um, was I not supposed to bring alcohol to the house party?”

“You thought it was a good idea to supply alcohol to a recovering alcoholic?”

My mind was reeling with that I thought he was referring to. I thought back to the night he poured all the liquor out. He hadn’t bought anymore to keep in the house but hadn’t quit drinking entirely. We had gone out for drinks with the guys countless times since that night and he never expressed to me that was suddenly calling himself a ‘recovering alcoholic.’

“What? I know you don’t want the hard stuff in the house during… but Jake, if you were struggling that much with it why didn’t you-“

“Huh? No, I’m not talking about me. I’m talking about Finn. Josh is pissed. Finn told him it was okay, that he could handle it. And I guess he’s fine, but Josh-“

“Woah, wait. Stop. Jake, what the fuck are you talking about?”

He blinked at me, a thick air of confusion settling between the two of us. “You didn’t know?”

“Know what? Why are we talking about Finn like he has a drinking problem?”

“Uh… because he told Josh he did. Said he has a chip, goes to AA meetings and everything. You seriously didn’t know?”

I racked my brain for any and every conversation I’d ever had with Finn, trying to figure out if he did mention it, if I blocked it out or forgot. I tried to remember a time when I had seen him drunk, tried to connect the dots, but I couldn’t find any. “He never said anything to me. Why would he keep that from me?”

Jake sighed. “I guess we both assumed you knew. I’ll talk to Josh.”

“Yeah, do that.” I know my words came off snippy, but I didn’t care.

“I’m sorry.” He reached out for me, but I pulled away, unable to hide the hurt.

“You really thought I’d be so ignorant about something that serious? He’s my best friend, Jake. I never would have…” I let out an exasperated sigh. “Just… go keep Josh busy. I need to have a conversation with Finn.”

He bit his lip and stared at me apologetically, but didn’t retort, and went to find his brother.

I found Finn alone, fiddling with the record player. “Hey, can we talk?”

He smiled, not appearing to be put off by my presence. “Sure.” He started a Fleetwood Mac record and turned all his attention to me. “Hey, are you alright?”

I led him to an unoccupied spot on the pool deck and didn’t speak again until we were alone. “How long have you been sober?”

The question caught him off guard, but his expression quickly softened. “Three years,” he said quietly. He reached into his pocket, pulling something out and holding it out for me to see. I eyeballed the bronze coin, glinting in the lights illuminating the deck. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.” He slipped the coin back into the safety of his pocket. “I didn’t want to keep it from you, I just didn’t want you to be disappointed in me.” He bit his lip nervously.

We both took seats in empty chairs. “What happened,” I asked. I figured there had to be a story there somewhere.

He picked at his cuticles while he searched for the words. His voice was low when he finally spoke. “Car crash in Sioux Falls. I was drunk, shouldn’t have been driving. The car I hit… it was a mother and two young kids. Everybody was okay, just minor injuries, but the mom had to be transported because she was so panicked she couldn’t catch her breath. When I saw how upset those kids were… they were terrified. And it was my fault they had to go through with it in the first place. They got lucky, like someone was looking out for them that night. But I could have killed them, and I knew I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I had.” There was a glaze over his eyes, like tears dwelled right below the surface, waiting to show themselves. “I only spent a few weeks in jail. First offense and all. The state made me pay a fine and mandated some AA meetings before I could have my license back. It didn’t feel like it was enough. I deserved worse.”

“Finn,” I whispered, reaching out to grasp his hand. “You made a mistake. It doesn’t mean you’re a bad person. And for what it’s worth, I’m proud of you, where you’re at now.”

“Thanks.” He squeezed my hand once before letting go. “I’m sorry if Josh got shitty with you about it. I tried to tell him it wasn’t your fault, but he gets tunnel vision and it’s hard to change his mind.”

“That’s called being a stubborn ass,” I retorted.

Finn chuckled. “I like his stubbornness. It’s endearing.” He let out a contented sigh. “I think I’m falling in love with him, Kya.”

“Is that why you chose to stay in Nashville?”

“Maybe it was one of the reasons.” He looked at me like a guilty kid who just got caught in a fib. “I think I really want to give it a shot, see where things go?”

“Have you guys talked about it, making it official?”

“A little. I know it probably won’t be easy. They’re leaving for tour soon, and we all know I don’t have the slightest idea what I’m doing when it comes to relationships.” He let out a nervous laugh. “And who knows? Maybe I’ll fuck it all up before we ever get started.”

I scoffed and rolled my eyes. “You’re not gonna fuck it up. If you love him, it’ll be worth giving it a chance. Besides, we can keep each other company while they’re gone.”

“Or keep each other out of trouble.”

“Same thing.”

He laughed, nodding in agreement. “You got a deal.”

///

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@hollyco @fleetingjake @musicislove3389

[whump-cravings]

Tortured Prince - Transaction

Tortured Prince AU Masterlist - TR3 Masterlist

755 words | Original Work: Tortured Prince (AU of TR3). Set a few weeks into Baltar's captivity; the first time he goes to Venja instead of the other way around. Set four days after Be Good Content: whumpee initiates (future, currently offscreen) dub/noncon taglist: @nabanna @emcscared-whumps @nicolepascaline @i-can-even-burn-salad​ @melennui @thecyrulik

If there was one thing about Venja that Baltar understood, it was that he treated their relationship as transactional. "Good behavior" was rewarded (what Venja considered a "reward" was always suspect, but that was besides the point), and obstinate, defiant, or otherwise displeasing behavior was punished—though Baltar couldn't always predict what would set Venja off.

As a royal prisoner, Baltar ought to have been afforded some comforts and amenities—if he were imprisoned in any civilized sense. However, his warden clearly didn't care to conceptualize what Baltar's life looked like while he was away, judging from how Baltar had had to ask for basic necessities in the first week, which had come with a price of their own.

With two older siblings to potentially inherit the throne before him, he had been training to be a diplomat all his life. An ambassador, a negotiator. He was good at knowing what people wanted, and good at getting what he needed in exchange.

To get something more out of Venja, Baltar would have to make some kind of effort. A show of goodwill, as one might call it. An overture. A sacrifice.

The thought of it twisted like a sour pit in his stomach. But he was far from home, and days had turned into weeks, which, gods forbid, might eventually turn to months. He wouldn't survive if he kept on like this, fighting Venja as much as not.

So he would bury his pride, his dignity.

That was why, when Venja returned after four days, Baltar met him in the common area without being called. The man looked up in surprise and suspicion, scanning him over quickly, perhaps checking for weapons or nefarious intent.

Baltar held his hands loosely at his side. He hadn't much time to prepare his appearance, as Venja's schedule was unpredictable, but had done his best to artfully offset his tunic and pulled his freshly-washed, gently tousled hair over his over shoulder. The excess length of the chain was draped about him, mimicking a shawl. He put a little sway into his hips as he approached the man, stepping up as close as possible between open legs, despite the way such proximity made his skin crawl.

Venja had to tilt his head back to see Baltar's face. Baltar placed his hands on Venja's chest, feeling the strong beat of the man's heart. He banished a burgeoning thought of his hands traveling a bit upward and squeezing. It would be impossible to gain Venja's trust if he acted violently now.

"What's this, Prince?" Venja wondered with his hands settling on Baltar's hips, wary but obviously intrigued.

"I h-have a proposal," Baltar murmured, attempting to sound sultry. He mostly just felt awkward, his face hot, and voice a bit scratchy. His heart was beating much too fast for him to feel calm and collected, gut too tight. Nervously, he played with some loose threads near the collar of the man's shirt while he cleared his throat. "If y-you're willing to listen."

Eyes narrowing but lips pulling up, Venja said, "Go on."

"There are some items I'd like," he said, self-consciously tucking his hair behind an ear. "A j-journal and writing utensils. Books. Cards. Embroidery hoops, needles, and thread." He watched Venja carefully. "Th-Things to pass the time."

"Sure," Venja said, eyes glittering as he waited for Baltar to continue.

"In return, I-I'll," Baltar said, and had to swallow. "I'll s-suck y-you off." He stared down at Venja's shoulder, trying to keep his breathing steady.

Schooling his expression despite the smile tugging at his mouth, Venja said, "With how big a step this is for you, Prince, I'll let you choose two of those four things."

Baltar felt relief and frustration in almost equal measure. "A journal and something to read would be my foremost requests, then." He licked his lips, glancing up with what he hoped was a doe-eyed look. "But perhaps I could convince you to include the cards, i-if I... p-perform particularly well?"

Venja shifted, mulling over the idea. "Very well. Impress me, and I'll throw in a set of cards on top of a journal and a book."

"Thank you," the prince said. He glanced downward. "M-May I...?" He would lose his nerve if he didn't follow through immediately. Disregarding Venja's previous violent use of his face, he'd taken partners in his mouth plenty of times before. This was no different. He just had to keep telling himself that.

Venja leaned back. "By all means."

Baltar sank gracefully to his knees.

[amischiefofmuses]

- The Sacred Timeline -

While I've added some DC muses, and I will have their canon timelines as THEIR main verse (asks will be DC based unless otherwise indicated); I will also be including them in my Sacred timeline verse because I like having a space for comic muses to interact all together. Figured I should update details on that front. Keep in mind that this is loosely taped together. It's for fun, plot-holes be damned.

Under cut explains the current state of the sacred timeline, how everyone got where they are and what they're doing in that verse currently. If you're interested in one specific character then just scroll 'til you find their icon.

THIS IS A LONG POST - fair warning!

Overarching note: This verse diverges from the s1 ending of X-Men '97, as the group aren't pulled through time post Asteroid-M.

Other writers in this verse: @ficklefables + @biblicallyaccuratemcu - their characters will be underlined with a link to their blogs.

Until we're certain about how Creature Commandos ends, the DC timeline diverges after their first mission to Pokolistan. They're returned to Belle Reve until the next mission, that next mission includes both King Shark and Ratcatcher 2 as new team members - Ratcatcher 2 is there voluntarily to work alongside her friend. This is when Cable (motivated by his connection with GI Robot - who he repaired from scraps) steps in and EMP's the group, taking the commandos back to the mansion to give them a safe place and freedom. Rick is aware of where they are but doesn't want to risk an incident with the mutant community, just outright attacking the X-Mansion wouldn't exactly go down well after all. He has mixed feelings on the matter as he is fond of the commandos but he doesn't trust them not to cause trouble, they were imprisoned for a reason after all.

Cable ends up sticking around after Asteroid-M, slowly repairing his arm and recovering from the fight. Wade shows up in the aftermath, looking for somewhere to look after his daughters: Ellie - who he stole from SHIELD custody and Princess, a stray creature with no where else to go. After causing problems, Cable and Colossus take him away to cool off and take the time to figure out how to best handle his self-destructive outbursts. Currently the three are still dancing around their feelings but have moved back into the mansion, bringing Wade with them - however he must be under constant supervision.  Nathan has also taken in two robots as 'sons', GI Robot and KeVRiC (K-VRC - originally from Love, Death & Robots). The former was found as scraps in the future, repaired slowly as a hobby project, instead he ended up with a son he's taken to live at the mansion with him. The latter was found in an apocalyptic timeline, he's a robot babysitter with no children to babysit and thus, he was also brought back to the mansion and found his place as Nathan's second son - and big brother to all the younger kids of the mansion. Motivated by GI Robot's affection for his incarcerated friends, Cable intervenes and bring the Creature Commandos to the mansion too, ensuring their safety by disabling the devices made to track and punish them. He isn't a fan of Rick, given his 'official' attitude about the whole matter.

Comes to the Mansion in Cable's absence (while he was on a mission in the future alongside his younger self) and pretends to be him, wanting to understand him - what better way to defeat him than to know everything? Instead he's shocked by how everyone… LIKES CABLE? He ends up furious and baffled, given he's the SUPERIOR man between the two of them. Smarter. More interesting. More POWERFUL. Unfortunately upon his return, Cable confronts him with an ultimatum, Stryfe doesn't attack because he doesn't want to draw attention to the situation and risk hurting his parents. He's told that he has to come clean about who he is. Much to both Cable's and his own surprise, he's given a chance to stay and eventually become one of the X-Men. He's integrating well enough, though often feels out of place and struggles to make connections with others. That's not helped by him refusing to stop wearing his armor, which absolutely makes him look like a bad guy.

It took time for the mansion to be rebuilt but once it was finally back together Kurt moved in and officially became one of the X-men. Admiring the charge that Scott took during the big fight on asteroid M, Kurt endeavored to get to know Cyclops better - slowly but surely the two became more intimate, becoming boyfriends. Kurt is aware Scott is also seeing Bucky, he is fine with this and is looking forward to meeting this mystery man - with the likelihood in the future of them becoming partners too. After recently finding out his mother Mystique has been hiding at the mansion, pretending to be others to see if she might have a space to stay, he's convinced her to stick around but others only know her to be a random shapeshifter that joined the ranks. Only Scott knows the truth (outside of Charles and Magnus) and he has been urging Kurt to tell Rogue and eventually the others. Recently he brought his Bamfs to the mansion, accidentally letting them run amok while he stepped away for some time. Scott now knows his boyfriend has these impish little guys but has no idea what they actually are.

After the Mansion is rebuilt there was a certain tension in Morph, nearly facing the end of everything really put things in perspective and they desperately wanted to tell Logan how they felt. Scott, noticing this, pushed for answers and then pushed for them to tell him. Unfortunately (or fortunately) a well-placed rant to themself was caught out by Logan, pushing them to admit their feelings. Now the two are together but they're keeping it under wraps - purely because it's more fun being sneaky, there is no shame involved. The only ones that officially know about them are Scott and Cable, who only found out as his dad accidentally spilled that secret.

After the events of Asteroid M it took quite some work to keep trouble away from Magnus, who joined him in the newly rebuilt mansion. Much of his time was spent working on that, as well as his usual work for Mutant rights. It's a tired conversation between Magnus and Charles that leads to them figuring out their affections are requited, both lament taking so long to figure it out but are quite happily partners now. They ground eachother, with Magnus keeping Charles from working himself into an early grave, and Charles helping Magnus when he feels he is struggling with the things he has done in the past - or things that were done to him. More recently they've become engaged, as teasing remarks between them suddenly became far more serious than expected, resulting in Magnus proposing. They're both very happy. 

Unfortunately he lost many of his friends in the attack on Genosha, which is something he has blocked out, instead he's focused on integrating into the family life of the mansion after being brought there by Magneto. For a while he was too nervous to make contact with them, becoming a bit of a story around the mansion as the 'ghost'. They were just starstruck. Recently everyone became aware of them after they jumped out at people as a ghost on halloween, Logan caught him and finally told everyone what was going on. Now he's slowly integrating into mansion life.

Most of his story is the same but his home universe is that of X-Men '97, meaning he saw the events of the Prime Sentinels and witnessed the planetary blackout. He sides with Mutants, being a fierce ally to their cause and very vocal about his support of mutant rights.

Has yet to meet anyone except Nightcrawler, the two are loosely friends. Obviously John supports mutants and would happily assist the X-Men, should they ever need it, he's mostly doing his own thing.

[enigmatist17]

Spin the Bottle where Angel doesn't quite remember everything until they call for Spike's help

---

"Liam?"

"Yes darlin'?" Looking up from his book, Liam sees the small girl Freddie standing at the entrance of his room, hands clasped behind her back. She's always smiling this one, bouncing a little in place as he sets the book aside.

"Your friend we told you about is here!"

Liam scoffs.

"You've got ta be lyin' about me bein' friends with an Englishman." He still can't believe any of their claims otherwise but gets to his feet with a shrug.

"We're not, I promise." The wee thing is smiling again, taking Liam's hand with a hum and leading him through the hotel. He has been mostly holed up in his room, having learned with a nasty burn that his freakish form didn't tolerate the sun, something he had dealt with by drinking lots of ale. He didn't understand why everyone knew each other when he was still in the figurative dark, the horned one talking about vampires and family or other such madness, but they had been kinder to him since their memories had been restored.

"So, I've never met him, but I've heard he's really nice!" The wee one had been talking despite Liam spacing out, and he just shrugged as they finally exited the staircase to the ground level.

The elevator still needed repairs after Liam had a panic attack.

"Never heard of such a thin'." He grumbles, the two finally entering the main reception area. Cordelia and Gunn were chatting with some blonde stranger, Liam tilting his head at the unnatural color.

"So, the Great Forehead graces us eh?" The stranger grins when Freddie lets go of Liam's hand, remaining by his side with a little bounce.

"....English pig."

"Excuse me?" The stranger blinks as Liam crosses his arms, scowling while the other double-takes. "I 'ear you right luv?"

"You did." The strong Irish accent had made the stranger take a full step backward, and Liam took a bit of pride in that. "Goin' to run like the coward ye are?"

"Coward?" The blonde stares at him like a lunatic, and suddenly, his face shifts into one of a beast, a monster.

One just like himself?

"Well, somethin' remembers under that thick brain of yours."

"Come say that to my fist."

"Aw, did I hurt baby Angel's feelings?"

"Spike..." Cordelia's voice is a warning as she and Gunn quickly step back, Spike dropping his duster on the couch beside him as he grins.

"I know what I'm doin' pet, trust the process." Liam doesn't like the nickname, his face shifting without his registering, and this Spike smirks to himself.

"She yours? Don't seem like a big man to -"

Spike grunts as the bigger vampire collides with him, the two being flung out double glass doors behind Spike into a small courtyard. Despite being stuck in the mind of his pre-vampire self, Angel remembers enough to start punching and clawing, face contorted as the older snarls at him. He can't remember the last time the two had fought like this, the humans inside having enough foresight to clear the lobby as their fighting eventually rounded back inside, and Spike was absolutely loving the thrill.

Can't have Angel loose on the streets in his condition, however, no matter how funny it would be.

He doesn't pretend to understand why his blood is going to supposedly fix Angel's mind, but Spike hopes it's soon when he's eventually pinned into a corner on the fourth floor, having gotten turned around in the unfamiliar building.

That's what he gets for holding back, or so he says to himself.

"Let's see if I can kill an already dead Englishman," Angel growls, grabbing a broken leg from a table that had met its demise and positioning the splintered wood above his heart.

"Sorry puddin'." Lorne jabs a needle into Angel's neck faster than Spike can register, and he uses the momentary distraction to push the wood away before he can be dusted. Quickly scrambling to his feet, Spike and the others watched as Angel clutched his head with a low hiss, face shifting back to its human form when his pain seemed to pass.

"Liam?" Cordelia slowly approaches him, and when Liam looks up, he's both annoyed and suspicious.

"How did you know that name?" Brown eyes go wide when he registers his accent, looking around to see most of the crew surrounding him...with Spike? "What?"

"Seems we've got Angelcakes back!" Lorne grinned, a hand outstretched. "Good to see ya!"

"I was away?" The vampire accepted the help, feeling a little woozy once he was fully upright. "Oh, the spell?"

"It'll come back to you, but it turns out vampires needed a little more help than I could scrounge myself, hence Spike here." The green demon waved the emptied needle in his hand a little, the blonde vampire smirking a bit from behind Lorne. "Speaking of, I owe you drinks!"

"Bloody right you do." Spike sniffed, regarding his grandsire with a shrug. "Gotta get paid for savin' the big poof."

"Not really saving...but thanks." Angel rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, not really sure what else to say. "I didn't, uh, say anything offensive, right?"

The silence is almost deafening, and Angel covers his face in his hands as Spike cackles.

[perditus]

INQUISITION.

Fenris arrives in Skyhold after meeting up with Cullen’s soldiers along the border between the North and South. He’s in the middle of battling Venatori slavers specifically to free a large group of elven slaves they’ve been transporting across. Cullen’s soldiers arrive and help turn the battle around, allowing them to claim victory and send the Venatori fleeing. Fenris accepted their help readily, but then requested another favor - that they bring the elven slaves he freed to their Inquisition as refuges as they don’t wish to join the Dalish. He also can’t guarantee their safety up North either. 

Upon his arrival to Skyhold, Fenris will react differently based on whether or not the Inquisitor is a mage. 

→ If they are a mage: Fenris will be openly skeptical of them, but relents based solely on the fact that Templars there seem to trust them. 

→ If they aren’t a mage: Fenris is fairly respectful of them. He’s also grateful for their willingness to take in the slaves he had freed, and is committed to repaying their kindness in turn. 

Fenris also has different behaviors based on whether the Inquisition sided with the Mages or Templars, as well as if they let the mages run loose or hold a tight rein on them. 

→ If they sided with the Templars: He is a lot more comfortable working with the Inquisition and their associates as opposed to going off on his own solo missions. You can find him around more often mingling with people, though he tends to stay exclusively in Herald's Rest. He also grows more comfortable with the idea of a mage Inquisitor faster than he might otherwise.  Fenris willingly offers information he’s acquired on the Venatori over the years. 

→ If they sided with the Mages as allies: Fenris reluctantly stayed due to the deal he made with Cullen’s soldiers. Instead of staying at Herald’s Rest, he can be found along the walls surrounding the Fortress. He mostly keeps to himself and makes it clear he’s here out of obligation than anything else. Fenris will still come around and trust the Inquisitor eventually, but he does not feel entirely safe there. 

→ If they sided with the Mages as Prisoners: There’s still some reluctance, but the open acknowledgement of the mages danger is enough. Fenris will stay at Herald’s Rest, but sleeps with one eye open. He grows to trust the Inquisitor at a slower pace than he would have if they sided with the Templars, but more than if the Mages were their allies. 

Regardless of his relationship with Hawke in the past, he doesn’t approach first due to his own conflicted feelings. He most certainly missed his friends from Kirkwall, but won’t openly admit it and reacts angrily instead. So, you could say he’s sulking regardless of the fact that it isn’t anybody’s fault. Nobody did anything wrong, but he’s still mad about it anyways. 

Obviously, this may change based on how his relationship with any Hawkes actually was due to their decisions and whatnot. But this is the default without taking anything into consideration. 

He doesn’t go to Skyhold if he’s in a romance with Hawke by default due to canon Hawke’s explanation in the game. This can again be plotted around - this is just the default. 

[danielfeketewrites]

Hellboy (2004)

First drafts, amirite?

As Ernest Hemingway famously said: "The first draft of anything is shit."

That's an exaggeration, of course. There are first drafts that are at least decent. There are first drafts that could be described as alright. Some writers can do it. Sometimes you just manage to mostly nail it on the first try. But it's a rare thing.

It's really weird, to read an early draft of a film you love. It's in a lot of ways like the thing you love, except... worse. Usually not a whole lot. Just a little. But definitely worse. But you can spot the bits that will be moved, removed, added, tweaked, or changed completely. And you realise that these changes are 9 times out of 10 what makes it the whole thing better.

The first time this has happened to me was probably while reading Pirates of the Caribbean: The Curse of the Black Pearl. It's a film I dearly love and reading the screenplay was great... except it was just a slightly worse version. (Might reread it this year for the challenge? Who knows?)

With Hellboy, the experience was maybe even a bit worse, because it's actually quite different at parts to the film I know I love.

And trust me, I love Hellboy.

I fell in love with Guillermo del Torro's two Hellboy films, then I fell in love with Mike Mignola's Hellboy comics. Both of these are very different, but I love them both so goddamn much.

But this script... clearly isn't there yet. Some parts of it are not very engagingly written, and there are some pacing issues, which I think were eventually solved. (Notice the date on the script. It's 1999. Five years before the film's release.)

Also, Hellboy is quite unlikeable in this script. And the one point where I think his dickishness is actually kinda justified, everyone starts acting like he's crossed a line. But by the time this evolves into the film, all of that is largely fixed. The remainders of Hellboy's dickishness are offset by Ron Pearlman's charisma.

And while I said a lot of this is very different, there is so much that made it to the final film: the loose adaptations of Seed of Destruction, agent Myers, Hellboy's relationship with Liz, and so much more of the stuff that makes the first Hellboy movie really enjoyable. You can see the seeds of an amazing film, it's just not finished yet.

It's also important to note how crucial Guillermo del Toro himself is to the film eventually being as good as it is. He's basically writing the roadmap for himself here, he can change the trajectory if he wants to. Eventually, his direction, the cast, and the mise-en-scène end up making the film genuinely memorable.

I love Guillermo del Toro.

And while I said that some bits of the script aren't particularly engaging, there are occasionally some great bits of raw imagery here...

"Rotting steel mills line the street like dead industrial behemoths." This line fucking slaps and you can't tell me otherwise. Raw as fuck, just hidden away in a scene description.

So yeah, there are some great bits. If you're interested in the background of the film, I can recommend it. If you just want some great Hellboy stories, go watch both of the del Toro films. Or go read the comics.

I've read the RaM script on my laptop, I've read the Hellboy script on my ebook reader.

I actually started reading it some time last year. Didn't get past the first act. For the challenge, I pushed myself a little, picked up where I left it and just read the remaining 3/4 of it.

It was ultimately worth it. I think I gained a better understanding of the film's conception and, more importantly, I learned something about first drafts and it's this: If your first draft is finished... No, it's not. Never stop striving to make something better. If you've made something and it's okay or bad or kinda good or whatever, it can always be better.

Suo Tempore.