#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…”

[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.

🩶taglist: @emturtles @xcinnamongirl @starsanova @idkiwantchocolatee @moonlightts2 @topguncultleader @lpab @larastark3107 @sinfully-yoursss @alwaysclassyeagle @formulas-bitch @daddyslittlevillain

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

[malebodyexhibit]

A Master and his Toys (a Next Door Boy tale)

Possession is the typical service provided by NDB, but that’s for people with no imagination. You have access to dozens of straight, fit, young men and you don’t want to be their masters? Sure you can take over someone’s body and fuck twinks ’til your cock and balls are dry. Or, you can rent 3 dumb, blond, straight jocks and have the agency adjust their behavior.

This 19-year-old twunk is a business major from Texas. I call him Rosebud. He’s your standard Republican trust fund baby who couldn’t hack it in university and got cut off from his parents. He drifted from girlfriend to girlfriend, mooching off them and cheating behind their backs. Eventually, he ended up as talent for NDB. He didn’t want to be possessed by some gay guy, but he was up for a minor reprogramming via his implant. I told him it was an obedience mod and pleasure mod. The pleasure mod being a love for gay sex. Now he loves showing off his body. I often kiss his neck when he’s being a good boy. He loves when I buy him a new jock strap. He can be a bit too much sometimes. For example, when I’m trying to watch the game, he crawls beside me and grinds himself against me. I sometimes just decide to give him a quick fuck. He doesn’t mind if he doesn’t cum, as long as he gets to feel me explode in him, but sometimes I just turn off his mods so he returns to his straight jock mind. He gets so embarrassed and tries to cover himself up, but a kiss from me and his love for attention kicks back into gear. When I’m at work, I have the other guys top him so he doesn’t get too lonely.

I call this one Jack-O. He’s a 28-year-old personal trainer from Colorado. He’s pretty easy going unlike Rosebud. He wanted to work for NBD but not have anyone else in control of his mind and body. He consented to a pleasure mod though. I told him it would just work on his drive for working out. He’d still be in his body, controlling his decisions. That much was true, but I had him have a strong lust for my  workout musk. After a tough workout, I toss him my sweat-soaked gear so he can lick it clean. I had to tie his arms up because he kept pulling my socks and underwear off. I spent a few days in my house completely naked ‘cause he just strips me and slobbers on my clothes. If I don’t shower quickly enough, he pounces on me and gives me a tongue bath. Because this is so closely tied to sex, he drips precum around the house and I have to be careful where I step. He’s almost always erect, but I had him unable to ejaculate until I stroked him myself. Otherwise, he’d just be spraying the house in his spunk. Jack-O has a fiancé, but he agreed to a no-contact during his contract duration. Yet that seemed heartless of me, so I sometimes have Rosebud wear his fiancé’s perfume then have Jack-O mount him to workout his sexual frustrations. I have, of course, turned off Jack-O’s mods so I could see his confusion as he’s sniffing my used underwear and his horror at his tied up body and his erect, dripping cock.

Spot is his name. This 33-year-old mechanic from Colorado joined NDB for easy money like everyone else. He highly values his body and mind, so he also chose to not be possessed. He’s a straight bachelor who used to bring home a woman. He’d treat her right and flirt for a week, but he’d cut them loose after things get too comfortable. I asked him about mods, and he didn’t have a problem with it. He just wanted to make sure he didn’t do gay shit. So I gave him a perception mod. He believes me, Rosebud, and Jack-O are women. I also tweaked with his pleasure mod and and obedience mod. Spot does all the chores in the house. He sweeps (hence, ‘you missed a spot’), mops up Jack-O’s happy trail on the floor, spots the other two during their workout to keep their rock hard bodies. He also tops them so he can keep himself happy. He loves to eat out their pussy (really it’s their cocks) and pound their pussy (their ass) and fondle their breasts (pecs). If I didn’t tape his mouth, he’d just ramble on and on since he just wants to prove how smart he is. With Spot, I never turn off his mod, but I do find myself blowing him. He thinks I’m one of his many female conquests, so it’s sweet to have him wrap his arms around me, but even sweeter to have him on all fours sweeping dirt from under the couch.

So that’s my collection. I’m not overly malicious. Everything was written out in the fine print. If they read carefully, they’d know what each mod entailed. NDB fully requires consent. At the end of their service (like one month), they’ll be returned to their normal mental state. But in the past, many prefer their new simpler lives.

[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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[martyrmystik]

I think Tumblr needs to know about my dumbass Poppy Playtime AU I literally JUST made today so uhm... Here's the AU I've been hyperfixating on-

More information under the cut!

This is the first half of the Smiling Critters references (I loved making their designs omg)

Basically to summarize why they are a significant part in this AU:

This is an AU where the Smiling Critters survive, using anything and everything they can to continue to do so. It's a small resistance group (hence the AU name, "RESISTANCE") trying to fight against The Prototype! They still have their dynamics and everything else but they have more freedom to express themselves (hence, the clothes and accessories. And how Kickin' Chicken is wearing two bandana's because yes, he is extra.) AFTER the events of The Hour of Joy. By that time they were like what? 1st-2nd graders considering the experiments that were done? Now they are more like teenagers in this AU since I still follow the plot-line of the actual Poppy Playtime story taking place 10 years later-.

As for how the group works, everybody has their own little role and is in charge of something, they aren't made useless as it is a group based off of teamwork and friendship (despite the casualties.) Here's some of the roles they fall into:

(IF I SEE ANYBODY SEXUALIZE THESE CHARACTERS ISTG. THATS ICKY AND GROSS and I will make sure you get smited by lightning, because even if these guys are aged up THEY ARE STILL MINORS!!!)

Kickin Chicken: The vice president if you will, the leaders right hand man. (Because Dogday is the leader.) He's kind of full of himself but the confidence and pep talks help the team keep motivated, even if he is a bit self-centered

Bobby Bearhug: Assistant to Kickin Chicken (although they have a rivalry.) and also the medic. Is also the one who helps Dogday with anything considering in this AU he still has half of him torn off. (More on Dogday in his own section sometime later)

Hoppy Hopscotch: Basically explores the facility in any area at any time to gather new information on ways to try and get out (all of them are actively looking to escape btw!)

Craftycorn: Maps out stuff (maps, plans, other things) using her drawing abilities, although she also acts as the therapist friend because her art is soothing to others.

Bubba Bubbaphant: THE LITERAL. EMBODIMENT. OF. THE NERD EMOJI. He is a actual know-it-all which can come in handy but that makes him seem like a dick sometimes because of his knowledge.

Picky Piggy: I don't really have anything important to add to her, since I want to keep some of her lore a secret [might be revealed through the ask page I just set up for the AU on my page] HOWEVER she is the chef of the group and is literally the only one that can cook, if anybody else tried they'd all get food poisoning LMAO.

Here's some extra things in this AU that won't go in my other posts about this AU (maybe):

(So take notes if you want.)

- Catnap is redeemed, but it takes a VERY long time for him to get out of "old habits" as I'm going to word it. (Without spoiling too much of what I have planned.)

- I don't know what to plan for The Prototype yet but I'm talking with a couple of my mutuals on discord so maybe I'll figure it out eventually

- Dogday can normally stand and do other things because of the belts he has, however he can't put them on for too long (for like at max, more than 4 hours a day.) because they will wear into the plush, and he needs to put the belts on tight or they will come loose. He only uses such method when the group goes to hunt for food or similar activities, otherwise, he just uses a wheelchair when in the groups safe environment (the Playhouse!)

- This is going to be a shock to some people, but there is NO player character in this AU, not only is this a what if the Smiling Critters survived, but it's also a what if the player character never returned to Playtime Co.! This does come with some issues, like on how the asks are going to work, but trust me, I got everything taken care of when it comes to that!

- There also isn't really any shipping in this AU at all, I'm focusing on the story/friendship dynamics more than that, so if somehow you were looking for Dogday X Catnap this is, unfortunately not the place for that.

- This AU also has the personal interpretation of Dogday being part of the experiments some of the orphanage kids faced, as I don't really vibe with the idea that Dogday might be a Playtime Co. worker??? I don't know, I'm sticking with my idea for now but I will be keeping a close eye on canon if anything confirms or denies it, and I may adjust the AU accordingly if that's the case.

- Future posts may or may not contain other Poppy Playtime characters but the main focus is the Smiling Critters and The Prototype.

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

References of Dogday and Catnap are already done but I may wait a bit on Tumblr to see how well this AU is being received :)

(I spent 6 hours on all references in total 😭😭😭)

[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.”

///

TAGLIST Let me know if you want to be added!

@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.

[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.

[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.

[pippinoftheshire]

I actually meant to finish my Modern AU, but then something possessed me so...😅💖

Say hello to an excerpt from the newest fic haunting my brain:

“The thing is,” says Solo, one night when he just can’t hold it in anymore. The three of them are in the flat, Illya with Gaby on his lap, side warm against Solo’s back. He feels loose, like the drawstring of a purse, ready to slide open and spill its contents. The wine is a sour heat on his tongue, and he shifts a little, hip aching. “You eventually get it stamped out of you.” Illya's arms tucks itself around his waist, holds his tight. Solo swallows the burn in his throat, glad that neither of them can see his face. He might not be able to do this otherwise. “What stamped out, Cowboy?” The Russian’s voice is gentle, low with concern. “Your spirit.” It comes out on the tail of a breath that might be a sob, if Solo were anyone else. Gaby’s slender fingers tug on his curls, fisting in them almost convulsively. He hums against the pull. “You have plenty of spirit.” That makes him laugh, and it’s hoarse and catches in his throat, tearing the pain a little wider. Illya’s heat is like the thawing of winter, solid and immovable. Inevitable. His eyes burn, and he closes them against the dim lantern light. But Solo doesn’t give in. He never cries, at least, not where people can see him. It’s the one part of his soul that he refuses to give away to anyone. The world has taken enough. Sanders and the CIA have taken enough. Even Gaby and Illya have stolen some of what remains, though he’s never going to begrudge them that. “Maybe,” he says, when he feels like he can trust his voice again. “But I still lost something.” “We all lost something, Cowboy,” rumbles Illya, quiet. There’s an old wound reopened, bleeding in his voice. That of the little boy with the big, icy eyes and the ghost of a father, standing, holding a watch in his hand…ticking…ticking…ticking… “Solo?” Gaby sounds unsure, as if she doesn’t recognize him at all. He can hardly blame her. Tonight is a far cry from his usual suave, composed self. Perhaps that is what finally teases the truth from his chapped lips. An admission that he thought he might take to his grave. A shadow that haunted him during those first few hellish years as an operative. “I…” He breathes out, the smell of whiskey on the air, bitter, hidden old secrets. “I just stopped wanting.”

[flatstarcarcosa]

All ship questions for Abe :) (dadbodsandbots)

PRE-RELATIONSHIP

How did they first meet?

he broke into my fucking house and refused to leave. i have our story pick up after he dips in s2, and figure that i'm /near/ sleepy hollow but not directly in it. he finds my cabin and just thinks it's empty and free real estate. it is not. although. he never pays rent so i guess for him it was free real estate.

he kinda gets stuck because there's a bay window in the kitchen with sunlight blocking him on one side of the cabin and that's how i find him when i come home.

What was their first impression of each other?

monster fucking tendencies aside, there was some stuff on fringe news sources about the headless horseman. SH police tried to keep a lid on it but you know how the internet is. i am trope aware enough to be a bit wary of the headless serial killer now in my kitchen but also. i am on day 8 of 9 of work before a single day off between another 9 day stretch so i'm a bit kinda.

"don't gotta work if no head tho-"

Did any of their friends or family want them to get together?

doesn't really apply for obvious reasons. eventually i DO talk about 'the boyfriend' but am understandably cagey about a lot of it. i think some people think i'm just making up a boyfriend for some reason until he finally gets his head back and can like. be in public.

Who felt romantic feelings first?

oh i think he did. mine was just MAN BIG MCLARGE HUGE SEXY for a good bit, meanwhile me just treating him normally and putting effort into being able to communicate with him and being willing to trust him when he says (writes a note) that he just wanted to be left alone but hadn't considered what that entailed and as i've done him no wrong he has no reason to be hostile towards me so like. could he idk hang out. started getting to him.

his own mistakes leading to his own suffering aside there is the fact that like. man was already half dead when moloch showed up, it's heavily implied moloch and hell targeted him specifically because of his relationship with both ichabod and katrina to become the horseman, and regardless of people having damn good reason to treat him like a monster it still throws him for a loop to fumble into someone who. doesn't do that.

Did either of them try to resist their feelings?

also him. he teeters for a while between still wholly blaming ichabod and katrina for how things went with growing realization that they're NOT entirely to blame. also my hc's of 'he was in love with both, got neither, went a bit unhinged about it' he's hesitant to open himself up.

also, joking about it aside, he thinks for a while there's no way i'm not fucking with him because. he's fucking headless. he hasn't treated me monsterably but he is undeniably a monster so what could i possibly be interested in.

If you had told one of them that the other would be their soulmate, what would they think?

sometimes when it's late at night, especially if i've been having a bad time and am only finding sleep after days, and he's still awake watching me curled up next to him he thinks it's weird how things turned out. he's not a 'everything happens for a reason' type of guy, esp considering the things he's experienced but.

what are the odds, you know?

What would their lives be like if they had never met?

man wandering loose and alone in woods, foraging for murder victims. local alcoholic pharmacy tech crashes and burns.

GENERAL

Who initiated the relationship, and how did it go?

it was mutual. the notes/charades and half-assed ASL and me learning his body language actually made us VERY good at communicating non verbally. he started doing nice things initially out of boredom and to pass the time while stuck inside in an otherwise tiny cabin, but eventually realized that it was also. oddly rewarding to have it appreciated.

i don't think he realized it was mutual until i started being physically affectionate though. first time he was sitting on the couch and i plopped my ass down on his lap had him like

Did they have an official first date? If so, what was it like?

not really because of the obvious. i think the FL vacation we take after his reheading should count though. we spend two weeks down here and then spontaneously add a third only because he spent enough days being besieged by demons he felt cheated of an actual vacation.

"so you're telling me the nations oldest city isn't haunted, it's full of demons?"

"it's goddamn infested is what it is and i didn't bring enough shotgun shells for this"

"i mean. it's florida. they're not hard to find."

What was their first kiss like?

POV abe abbie and ichabod pop out of a hell port 3 days late after disappearing to stop an apocalypse. i'd assumed they'd succeeded when the timer ran out and the world kept spinning but i'd started getting worried. all three of them are exhausted and bloody.

abe only went because they cajoled him into it out of desperation, and the agreement that if he helped they'd give him his head back.

me, having the enchanted ring means i don't immediately realize he's already taken it back. surprise!

Were they each other’s first anything (kiss, relationship, etc.)?

i definitely think i was too focused on being an insane alcoholic trying to make it day to day to have had any relationships in this setting, so.

What’s their height difference? Age difference?

in my mind he's 6'4 (with head). which means he was already tall before imagine how fucking mad i am after the reheading when he's taller. age difference is like what 220ish slutty slutty years.

although, i remember something somewhere saying he was only 27 when he died. i don't know if that was an official age thing or just a fanon thing but if we roll with that and discount the years he was waterlogged in the river we're close in age.

What’s their relationship with each other’s families?

non-applicable. man's reheaded before he even finds out i have a sister. (so like, almost two years into knowing each other)

Who takes the lead in social situations?

by necessity for a while, me, because our only social situations outside each other are w ichabod and abbie and someone has to translate. post reheading it's usually him.

Who gets jealous easier?

him. i only do it if it's funny.

Who whispers inappropriate things in the other’s ear?

oh that's equal depending on the situation.

LOVE

Who said “I love you” first?

probably him, but not until after getting his head back. cringe comp, horseman of death less emotionally constipated than i am.

What are their primary love languages?

Abe is gift giving, which is. ironic because the man fucking sucks at giving gifts. he STILL falls into thinking "expensive = good" and gets confused when he buys something meant as an obvious joke and i end up being DELIGHTED by it. also he turns himself into an acts of service ass mf, stays confused at how this happens.

mine is also acts of service, as well as quality time.

Who uses cheesy pick-up lines?

both but only For The Bit.

How often do they cuddle/engage in PDA?

i don't tend to engage in PDA much but i also don't rebuff it. i do however climb like a fucking tree at home, esp when it's a case of i had to struggle through work and my brain shut off the second i walked in the door.

Who initiates kisses?

it's mutual and genuinely depends on who's hornier.

Who’s the big and little spoon?

i am just a leetle creachur, i cannot help des.

What are their favorite things to do together?

when he's still headless obviously it's a lot of inside stuff. i think we do get to the point where we take the horse out at night though, but he's always a bit on edge to make sure no one is around.

reheading opens it up a lot more. he likes doing a lot of stuff outside just because of the novelty of being able to be out in the sun without burning to a crisp.

Who’s better at comforting the other?

look he tries but his immediate go-tos are a "oh, darling" and tea and sometimes i'm at the point where if this mf shoves one more cup of tea at me he's gonna have hot liquid in his newly regained eyes.

Who’s more protective?

him most definitely. although, i get defensive of him sometimes when it comes to abbie and ichabod. you don't have to like him or trust him (even though at a certain point it's clear he's not going to fuck them up any longer) but you're not going to be rude in my fucking house.

Do they prefer verbal or physical affection?

abe leans towards both and i lean towards physical because i have Weird Hangups about Words.

What are some songs that apply to their relationship, in-universe or otherwise?

Royal Blood -- Little Monster

The Black Keys - Next Girl

What kind of nicknames do they call each other?

Abe. :) even though canonically others refer to his as Brahm/Brom as a nickname i think he likes i just defaulted to something else all on my own. Petnames aside he has a very specific way of saying Reese sometimes that makes it feel like a nickname.

Who remembers the little things?

i have chronic forgoring disease so it's not me, usually.

DOMESTIC LIFE

If they get married, who proposes?

we do not. he does eventually consider the idea despite initially thinking he was never gonna do that again but i am staunchly anti-marriage.

What’s the wedding like? Who attends?

How many kids do they have, if any? What are they like?

Do they have any pets?

Rufus :) also I end up getting some hamsters. he is immensely confused about having rodents as pets. he is also eternally frustrated that they keep getting out of the fucking cages.

it happens so often he'll find rufus just standing somewhere and looking between a spot under a piece of furniture and back again and it's just [deep sigh] "is there a hamster loose, rufus?" [small boof] "of course there is. you could eat one, i won't tell on you."

Who’s the stricter parent?

Who worries the most?

in general about anything i have the anxieties disorders. about specific things, he genuinely worries about the fact he's a magnet for demons and other hell creatures, and it only gets kicked up after some of them shred the cabin.

Who kills the bugs in the house?

it depends on the bug. he finds my eternal war against cockroaches fascinating and concerning. the way i can hear them in the fucking baseboards is genuinely unsettling.

one time a snake got in and all he heard from the other end of the house was "oh. ohhhh nooo, no not today. no sir. no thank you. may i ask you to vacate the doorway-"

How do they celebrate holidays?

i'm in the funk of just not doing so when we meet but i do think over time ichabod and abbie's influence drags us into it.

Who’s more likely to convince the other to come back to sleep in the morning?

me, but he doesn't need much convincing.

Who’s the better cook?

well it's not the 18th century aristocrat that never did a single thing for himself before dying that's for fucking sure.

Who likes to dance?

i'm prone to moving around if i have music going and i think he tries to get me to like. dance-dance sometimes but i always get weirdly flustered about it for some reason.