#peep ocean in the corner

[casey-nova-12]

Virgil, the executioner

[viridescentelf]

Humain à l’eau - Yandere Priest x Reader

helloooo! the character and FANTASTIC ART of Micah belongs to @meo-eiru I sent this to her in an ask before, but wanted to post it for new peeps and added some more sparkle (smut lol)

this guy TERRIFIES me and why is that hot lol what's wrong with me?

(pls remember that this is fiction and i do not condone this behavior at alllllllllll, in real life i would beat the shit out of him easily lol)

WARNINGS: 18+, general nsfw, dub-con, non-con, toxic behavior, intimidation, trapping, dom-sub dynamic

Word Count: 1k

-----

“I know what you’ve been doing…”, your voice attempted to emulate confidence, but the priest’s presence pulsated eerily around you. His towering form hovered dangerously above you, as you attempted to stand your ground.

“Oh? You do?”, Micah’s voice remained collected, his hands hiding in his sleeves. You couldn’t see how intensely his fingers were gripping into each other. Seeing you always made him woozy. The permanent smile etched across his visage, as he tilted his head slightly.

“Illuminate me. What have you surmised, Y/N?”, the silky tone invaded your ears. He had been doing many things, which were you referencing?

“That stuff you’ve been giving me. You’ve been lacing it with something. Everything…fogs and I wake up knowing you-“

The sudden appearance of his dark eyes piercing through the light lashes made you freeze. The voids halted any form of strength you previously mustered. Your body quaked. Surely, he could see how harshly your legs were trembling.

“My, my…”

He moved forward slowly, cornering you in the prickly rose bushes he tended to. You thought about trying to push him aside, but your limbs were so weak you could barely stand. Additionally, you feared what he would do if you attempted an escape.

“What a fascinating theory…” He lowered his face down to you, the dead eyes almost level with your own.

“A harsh accusation. Why would I do such a thing when…”

The pale arm slid out from his sleeve. His icy hand trailed up your neck, settling on your cheek and gripping the side of your face. The priest pulled your face harshly towards his own, his lips locking into yours as he pushed his tongue violently into your mouth. Your own tried to retreat back into your throat, to no avail. No matter how much you winced, Micah’s hold on your face was firm. The more you resisted, the harder his grip and kiss became.

He released from you, as you gasped for breath, tears stinging your eyes. Micah leered, triumphantly.

“…I can have what I want without such methods.”

Your lip quivered. The priest still held your face in place, remaining close to you. Your suspicions confirmed, you were now trapped. You had been careless: you shouldn’t have confronted him alone.

“You will join me in my office. Such slander needs to be punished appropriately.”

Micah released his hold on your face and put his hand on your back, steering you towards the church. Your body obeyed, sinking deeper into permanent panic and your limbs ignoring your internal screams to bolt.

Micah smiled to himself, feeling the tremble in your vibrating spine.

If breaking you was the way to keep you, he would do so with ease.

The dark eyes stared down at you, as he guided you to his office door.

-----

Your back faced the door. The thud of it made the hair on the back on your neck twitch. The peaceful jingling of a set of keys juxtaposed with the harsh thrust into the keyhole, while the clanging of the old lock reverberated in your spine.

You shouldn’t have confronted him. Especially not alone.

“Now,” Micah’s voice remained steady and patient, as you heard it grow slightly louder while he turned towards you. “What shall we do with you?”

You daren’t turn around. You tried to stifle your anxious gulp, but you couldn’t control its tremoring volume. You felt like you were miles away in a deep, uncanny ocean and you were barely holding yourself over water.

He approached you slowly. Every step of his caused your breathing to quicken slightly more. You couldn’t know what would happen in here, with the doors locked and any cry for help reaching no one. Everyone was outside doing chores. You were alone. With him. The shark circling you, while you're doomed to sink.

You couldn’t really tell if he was angry or if he just liked playing with his meal.

His pace quickened suddenly and you felt his right hand swoop under your arm, grabbing your chin from behind, while his left wrapped around your waist. He pressed himself into you, while forcing your head back. It wasn’t a knife stabbing your lower back, but it frightened you just as much.

You were met with lifeless, famished eyes and an ungodly smile. Predator finding prey, after months of fasting.

“I think an endurance lesson will do the trick. A fair punishment for your … accusation.” As he spoke, his index finger dug into your cheek. “You will give your all in this, won’t you, darling?”

You felt your head nod, betraying your instincts.

His smile grew, making his eyes squint slightly. But the voids kept you in his focus.

All you can do now is sink with him.

Unblinking, he started unbuttoning your blouse. Before you knew it, the miniscule protection you had draped down your shoulders.

Micah's cold, long fingers traced up your soft belly and lingered on your exposed sternum. His hand pivoted there, seemingly unable to decide which direction to go next. It made your skin shiver all over and you let out an involuntary moan.

You hated how much his indecision activated something in you. It felt so wrong, but the priest had this aura that made him both terrifying and exceptionally alluring. Despite your mind screaming to run away, you body was disloyal to your morals.

His right hand still held your head back, forcing you to stare at his hungry face that enjoyed the view a bit too much. Towering over you, he tilted his head as your anticipation grew.

"What's this? Adding impatience to the list, are we?" You could feel how much he was loving your body's reaction, but his voice remained collected.

While speaking, his hand barely grazed your right breast. You shuddered, half from his freezing touch and half from suppressed desire.

You didn't know how, but his smile grew even bigger than before.

"Repentance requires patience."

The priest's face lowered down to yours, you felt yourself sink deeper into the depths, his teeth pulling you down with him. His hand finally grabbed your breast fully, squeezing it harshly.

"My greatest virtue and vice in one."

[siren-crown]

I think what has made the Oceangate sub so special is a rich person is suffering from his own actions. Usually when they cut corners and defy regulations it's workers, consumers, and other groups that suffer. But here Stockton Rush had to lay in the bed he made.

The other thing that makes it interesting is no regular person would be in this situation. I don't mean we would have done research on the company, known better than to visit a grave/history site, or even being afraid of the ocean. We would have never been able to even afford that $250k ticket, it was something only for the wealthy.

It also displays media bias. We get hour to hour coverage of the rescue but 700 asylum seekers sinking at sea barely gets a peep.

[joelmillerisapunk]

Greece 1.5 ~ S.O.S

Soft daddy!Joel Miller x f!reader

Masterlist ♥︎ Soft Daddy Masterlist

Wordcount: 3,060

Summary: The one where you tell Joel you're pregnant

Warnings: 18+, mentions of pregnancy and pregnancy tests, anxiety, panic, Joel receiving this news and reacting

Notes: A filler between Greece and the next destination. Thank you to everyone who has read, commented, and/or reblogged this au. It was only ever meant to be a one-shot, but I am so grateful for the love it received. Writing this has been so very therapeutic for me and fun, and it's all because of you amazing peeps. Thank you, @saradika-graphics , for the dividers 🥰

As you go through the motions of packing your bags, your thoughts are in a tumultuous storm. You can hardly believe the result of the pregnancy test you took this morning, a tiny stick that holds the power to change your life forever. The two pink lines staring back at you confirmed your worst fears and ignited a whirlwind of emotions within you. Fear, excitement, and uncertainty all battle for dominance in your heart, and you can't shake the feeling that everything is about to change. You'd hoped it was a false positive. But here you are. You're pregnant. The news hits you like a ton of bricks, and you're not sure what to do next. You consider waiting to tell Joel until after your trip is over, but you know that's not fair to him. He has a right to know, and you want to be honest with him.

You picture Joel's face when you tell him the news, the shock and disbelief that will surely follow. You wonder how he'll react, whether he'll be happy or scared, angry or confused. You imagine him wanting to take control of the situation, to take care of you and the baby, and the thought warms your heart. But you also fear his rejection, the possibility that he might not want to be a father, or worse, that he might not want to be with you after this. You take a deep breath, trying to calm your racing thoughts. You need to talk to Joel, to tell him what's going on and see what he thinks. Maybe this is a good thing, a sign that your relationship is meant to be.

As you take one last, lingering look around the room, you can't help but feel a pang of nostalgia. The memories you've made here with Joel have been nothing short of extraordinary - filled with love, laughter, and a sense of adventure that has left you both breathless and exhilarated. You take a mental snapshot of the room as it is now - the rumpled sheets on the bed, the scattered books and papers on the floor, the faint scent of coffee and citrus that seems to linger in the air.

As you make your way out to the balcony, you take a deep breath, savoring the salty tang of the ocean air and the gentle rustle of the palm fronds overhead. Joel is sitting there, his gaze fixed on the horizon, and for a moment, you simply watch him, taking in the strong line of his jaw and the way the sunlight glints off his hair. You hesitate for just a moment before approaching him, feeling nervous. You take a deep breath, steeling yourself for the conversation ahead.

"Hey," you say softly, taking a seat next to him.

He looks up, a smile on his face. "Hey, princess," he says, taking your hand in his.

You take a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves. "Joel, there's something I need to tell you."

His smile fades, and he looks at you with concern. "What is it, darlin? What's wrong, are you okay?"

"I'm pregnant," you whisper.

His eyes widen, and he looks at you in shock. "What?"

You nod, feeling tears prick at the corners of your eyes. "I took a test last night, and this morning, both were positive.” As the words leave your lips, Joel's expression changes from one of joy to one of shock and disbelief. His face pales, and he stands up abruptly, as if he's been physically struck. You watch in confusion as he stumbles towards the door, mumbling something about needing some air. Before you can say or do anything, he's gone, leaving you sitting alone on the balcony.

The breeze rustles the palm leaves above you, and the sound of the waves crashing against the shore below fills the air. You take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself, but the enormity of what you've just revealed weighs heavily on your shoulders. You curl your legs up onto the chair, wrapping your arms around your knees, as you try to make sense of what just happened. You can't blame Joel for his reaction. You understand that he needs time to process the news, but it still stings to have him walk away without saying a word.

—

Joel paces back and forth on the beach, running his hands through his hair as he tries to process the news you just gave him. He mutters to himself, "Pregnant? How? I mean, I know how, but...what?" He stops and looks out at the sea, taking deep breaths as he tries to calm down. But his thoughts are racing, and he can't seem to focus on anything but the word pregnant repeating in his mind.

He starts pacing again, kicking at the sand as he goes. He's never been in this situation before, and he's not sure what to do. He doesn't want to be a father, not right now. He's already done that. But he knows that's not an option. You're carrying his child, and he can't just abandon you. He stops and looks at the sea again, feeling overwhelmed. He's not sure how he can be a good father, not after what happened to Sarah. He couldn't handle that again. He takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly, trying to steady his nerves. He knows he needs to talk to you to tell you what he's feeling, but he's not sure how.

—

You wait for what seems like an eternity, but Joel doesn't come back. You start to worry, wondering if he's okay. You decide to go look for him, and when you do, you find him outside, sitting on a bench with his head in his hands. He looks up as you approach, and you can see the fear and uncertainty in his eyes.

"I'm sorry, darlin," he says, his voice shaking. "I didn't mean to leave like that. I just needed some time to think."

You nod, understanding his reaction. You sit down next to him, and he takes your hand in his, his thumb tracing circles on your skin. Joel takes a deep breath and looks at you, his eyes filled with fear and uncertainty. "I'm scared, darlin'. I'm scared of what this means for us, for our future. I'm scared of failin’ you and the baby."

"I'm scared too, Joel. But we'll figure it out."

Joel looks at you, his eyes searching yours for something, anything. "But what if I can't be a good father? What if all I'm good at is failing?”

The vulnerability in his voice takes you aback. You never imagined Joel, the strong and confident man you've come to know and love, could feel this way. You take his hand in both of yours, your eyes meeting his. "Joel, you are a good person. You have overcome so much in your life, and you have so much love to give. I believe in you, and I know that you will be an amazing father if you want, but if not,” You pause as more tears threaten to fall, “if not then we can end the trip here and go our separate ways. I'm giving you an out.” You look down at the sand as the tears pour from your face, and suddenly you're sobbing into your hands.

Joel gently takes your hands away from your face and places his there instead, holding you like you're the most delicate thing in the world. Looking into your eyes, he can see the fear and uncertainty in them, and it breaks his heart. He takes a deep breath, "Darlin', I love you. I have loved you from the moment I met you. And I want to be with you, always. I want to be there for you and our baby. I'm not gonna leave.”

You look up at him, tears still streaming down your face. "Really?”

He nods, a small smile on his face. "Yes, really. I want to be a family with you. I want to build a life with you. I want to be the father that our child deserves. I may not be perfect, but I'll do everything in my power to be there for you both.”

You feel a sense of relief wash over you. "Thank you, Joel. Thank you for being here for me, for us."

Joel smiles, his eyes softening. "Always, darlin'. Always."

You lean in and kiss him, feeling a sense of closeness and connection that you've never felt before. When you pull away, you can see the love and adoration in his eyes, and you know that everything is going to be okay.

—

As your flight to France draws near, you take time to rest, feeling the fatigue from the emotional morning catch up to you. After your tearful conversation, Joel takes it upon himself to go out and buy you some essentials. He knows that you'll need all the support you can get during this pregnancy, and he wants to do everything in his power to help you. So he walks down the bustling streets of Greece, taking in the sights and sounds of the market. He heads to a florist first, picking out a beautiful bouquet of pink and white roses. The florist wraps them up carefully, and Joel can't help but smile as he takes them in his hands. He knows they'll just be left here when you leave, but he gets them anyway, hoping to brighten your mood.

Next, he heads to a small café, where he orders a box of pastries, a few sandwiches, and two cups of hot coffee. He knows that you've been feeling a bit nauseous, but he's hoping that the smell of fresh coffee will help perk you up. After that, he makes his way to a health food store, where he picks up some prenatal vitamins and other supplements. He's not entirely sure what you'll need, so he grabs one of anything that seems helpful.

As he walks back to the villa, Joel can't help but feel a sense of anticipation. He knows that this pregnancy is going to be a challenge and change his life forever. He wants to be there for you every step of the way, providing you with the love and support that you need, more than ever, but he can't help feeling a sense of doubt in himself.

Could he really do this all over again without failing?

—

The villa is quiet and peaceful, the only sound being the soft rhythm of your breathing as you sleep. Joel enters the room, his footsteps light on the plush carpet. He looks at you with a soft smile on his face as he watches you sleep. You look so beautiful, so peaceful that he feels a pang in his heart, wondering how you must be feeling. He quietly sets up a little display for you, with the flowers in a vase, the food, and the vitamins, all laid out on the table. With everything in place, Joel grabs his cup of coffee and takes a seat at the table, his eyes never leaving you.

As time passes, Joel decides to step out onto the balcony overlooking the sea. The view is breathtaking, the endless expanse of blue water stretching out before him. He takes a deep breath, feeling the salty air fill his lungs and pulls out the box with the engagement ring he's picked out for you from his pocket, and the delicate gem gleams in the sunlight. He knows now more than ever that this is the right decision, that his plans to propose in France will definitely go forward. He wants to spend the rest of his life with you, to build a family and a future together.

—

You slowly open your eyes, the sleep still lingering in your limbs. As you sit up, you're greeted by the mouth-watering aroma of freshly brewed coffee and buttery pastries. Your eyes widen in surprise as you take in the beautiful display Joel has set up on the table. A vase filled with an array of bright and colorful flowers sits prominently in the center, surrounded by an assortment of foods, vitamins, and prenatal supplements. “Joel what is all this?”

"Thought you might need some stuff to help you through the pregnancy. I wasn't sure if you're allowed coffee, but I figured one cup won't hurt."

You smile, feeling a sense of gratitude and love for Joel. He's been so supportive and kind, and you know that he's going to be an amazing father. You take a sip of the coffee, feeling the warmth spread through your body.

—

As the two of you make your way to the airport, you can't help but feel a sense of anxiety. This trip has already been a whirlwind, and the news of your pregnancy has only added to the drama. As you board the plane, Joel notices a familiar face in first class. It's a woman he used to know back when he was married, a wealthy socialite who always seemed to have her sights set on him. She sees him as well, and a sly smile spreads across her face. "Well, well, well, if it isn't Joel Miller," she purrs. "And who is this little thing by your side? Certainly not the sort of woman I'd expect to see with a man like you." She eyes you up and down.

You feel your cheeks burning with embarrassment, but Joel just smiles. "Now, now, Elizabeth, there's no need to be rude. This is my partner, and she's pregnant with my child. I'd appreciate it if you'd show her some respect."

Elizabeth raises an eyebrow, clearly surprised. "Pregnant? Well, congratulations, I suppose. I never took you for the family type, Joel, not after what happened to - whatever her name was. But I guess we all have our secrets, don't we?"

You can feel your anger rising, but Joel just shakes his head. "Elizabeth, please. We're just trying to enjoy our trip."

Elizabeth sighs, clearly disappointed. "Fine, Joel. I'll leave you to your...family. But don't expect me to roll out the red carpet for your little ragamuffin here. She's not exactly the type of person I'd expect to see in first class." With that, she turns on her heel and walks away, leaving you and Joel sitting there in shock.

"I'm so sorry, I had no idea she'd be on this flight. She's always had a bit of a mean streak."

You sigh, leaning into his embrace. "It's okay, Joel. I know she was just trying to get a reaction out of you. But you didn't have to announce that I'm pregnant, I mean, we just found out, why'd you tell her?”

Joel looks at you with a sheepish expression. "I'm sorry, princess. I didn't mean to blurt it out like that. I guess I just wanted to prove to her that I'm not the same man I used to be, that I've changed and grown. I wanted her to know that I'm happy, that I'm in love. I wanted her to see that I'm not alone, that I have you and the baby, and that I don't need her or anyone else from that damn circle."

"I know, Joel. And I'm proud of you, I really am. It's just a lot to take in, that's all.” You sigh

The rest of the flight is tense and heavy, with both of you lost in your own thoughts. You can't shake off the encounter with Elizabeth, and you can tell that Joel is still feeling guilty for blurting out your pregnancy. But despite the awkwardness, you find comfort in Joel's presence, his warm hand holds yours as the plane begins its descent. You feel a sudden surge of excitement. You've never been to France before, and you can't wait to explore the city of love with Joel.

“You wanna watch a movie? It'll help pass the time.” Joel offers, and you agree.

As the two of you settle into your seats and the movie begins, Joel can't help but feel a sense of guilt and unease. He keeps replaying the encounter with Elizabeth in his mind, wondering if he made a mistake by revealing your pregnancy to her. He knows that he only did it to prove a point, but he can't shake off the feeling that he's failed you in some way.

He looks over at you halfway through the movie to find you sleeping peacefully next to him. He can't help but feel overwhelmed by the weight of his past, by the memories of his failed marriage and the loss of his firstborn child. His mind drifts to the future and all the challenges that it may bring. He knows that he's made mistakes in the past, but he's determined to do better this time around. He looks over at you again, your face illuminated by the soft glow of the movie screen, and he feels a sense of peace wash over him. Maybe he can do this.

As the movie comes to an end, Joel takes your hand in his, giving it a gentle squeeze. You open your eyes, looking up at him with a sleepy smile. "Hey princess" he says, his voice soft.

"Hey," you reply, yawning. "What time is it?"

"We're about to land."

You look out the window as the plane descends, watching as the green fields and rolling hills of the countryside give way to the bustling cityscape of Paris. The Eiffel Tower looms in the distance, a symbol of love and romance that seems to promise a brighter future.

[florencemtrash]

The Shadowsinger and the Inkbird — Chapter 19 sneak peek

Azriel jolted out of bed, nails scratching along the hardwood floors until he was pressed into a dusty corner of his room, chest heaving. He tore at his hands, leaving angry, red marks.  Get it off. Get it off. Get it off.  He swiped at invisible blood stains.  He was buried beneath an ocean with a boulder strapped to his chest, pinning him to the sandy floor. He couldn’t breathe, even though he knew all he had to do was open his mouth and inhale. The pressure was too much. He could only stare forward at the shapes twisting along the wall like monsters in the night.  The strange noise woke you up. Something large moved in the darkness.  “Azriel?” You called out, groggy and disoriented. Your head pounded. Your chest felt unnaturally tight. The sheets were tangled and torn away. “Az?” 

Author's note: Who's ready for a fucking NIGHTMARE SCENE??!! This one's for all the tumblr peeps who love a hefty serving of heartache.

Y'all know the drill. Chapter 19 will be out tomorrow!

The Shadowsinger & The Inkbird: Masterlist

Masterlist of Masterlists

[chai-berries]

all my friends support palestine and know neil druckmann is a zionist

Decree # 13: No Scary Movies before Bed for Abby Anderson (#13)

abby’s voice is a whisper to match the darkness of the room. “hey, baby, are you asleep?”

“yeah” you respond in sleepy sarcasm. you shuffle deeper into your blanket.

“can i turn on the light?” this makes you peep open one bleary eye.

“uhm okay?”

the room is suddenly flooded with light from the bedside table.

the, open floor layout serves as a surprisingly large studio sized apartment, with a living, dining, and bedrooms in the same area as the kitchen. it’s wonderfully packed full of found books and pieces of art that took ages to collect. you and abby had lived here together for 17 months and each of you brought your own collections into one space. thanks to abby’s rank within the leaders of the WLF the apartment is big enough for you both to create a proper safe haven for yourselves.

however it’s not always as safe as you’d like it to be. especially tonight.

it’s been extremely stormy this winter and today has seattle bracing itself against wind coming through the bay and right against the stadium's walls. everyone was prepared for it. making sure the animals were inside and the crops were covered so everyone can hunker down for the big ocean storm. this storm has you and abby having a movie marathon. she found a bunch of intact dvds for the stadium collection and was rewarded with a functioning tv and dvd player for the storm. you picked out a romcom and a movie about found family while abby picked out two scary movies.

now four hours later, here you guys are, in bed, abby’s bedside lamp blinding you completely for a second.

“mmnph, you okay baby?” you mumble. your eyes are shut again, but you turn your body to face abby. the girl has moved to sit up against the headboard. she’s breathing deeply and clutching the blankets in her fists. when she doesn’t answer, you peek up at her with one eye. “baby?”

“yeah,” abby says when you sit up next to her. “i’m fine. i just couldn’t sleep. you can go back to sleep. i’m sorry.”

“no it’s fine!” you try to make eye contact with your girlfriend but it’s like she’s actively avoiding your eyes. “abby? did you have a bad dream?”

she looks at you from the corner of her eye. your face is earnest and full of love but abby knows what’s gonna happen next.

“i, uh, i had a dream about being sucked into a black hole. like, like the movie we watched.”

now, abby’s nightmares are rare. if she has them it’s either based on a book or movie she recently watched or the day at the hospital in salt lake. growing up in the apocalypse, your nightmares are usually the least of your worries.

still you did warn abby about the dreams. she already had a messed up schedule because in the three days leading up to it, isaac had everyone preparing for the storm. and when you warned her about the scary movies, she brushed you off and swore she’d be fine. now she was at the mercy of her know-it-all girlfriend.

your lips twitch upwards. you lay back down and shift under the blankets until you’re back in the warm spot. you look at abby.

“am i allowed to say ‘i told you so’?” you smirk up at her.

she rolls her eyes. “whatever.”

you pout. “hey! be nice to me! i tried to warn you, you big baby! now come here and let me cuddle you!” you open your arms and abby eagerly falls into them. she snuggles into your chest. your hands go up to her loose hair and comb through the waves.

“i got you. go back to sleep, baby” is all abby hears before she lets sleep take her.

when you wake up, it’s to a giant tree limb slamming itself against the large stadium window. you jump in fear before you recognize the noise for what it is, taking a breath. abby has tucked you against her chest with your head under her chin, so she feels you wake up. her warm hands run up your back and she lets out a groan when you pull away from her. “i gotta go pee!” you apologize, practically running for the bathroom to keep the warmth in your body. abby’s watches out the window until you return with a sleepy smile and arms open. all of your responsibilities have been put on hold until the storm is over and you're going to take advantage of being able to lay in bed a bit longer than usual.

“did you sleep okay?” you mumble against abby’s collarbone. abby’s midnight worries are gone now that the sun is up. well it’s up there, behind the clouds somewhere.

“yeah,” she sighs. “sorry about that”

“you don’t have to apologize. you remember when i had nightmares for a week after we watched that killer doll movie?”

“yeahhh, that movie was fucked up”

“it was! and the black hole movie was also fucked. you don’t have to apologize… But am i allowed to say i told you so?”

abby playfully squeezes you tight to make you giggle.

“yeah,” she grins down at you. “you can”

“okay… I Told You Watching that Movie would Give You Nightmares.”

“why’d you say it like that? are you decreeing it?”

“yeah. you know i like being right. and besides, when you get scared i get to protect you so honestly it’s a win for me.”

“glad my misery brings you happiness”

you respond to her grumble with a kiss on the lips.

“my sweet scaredy-cat,” you say against her mouth. “i’ll always protect you. don’t worry” you promise into another, deeper kiss.

[l0n3ly-gh0st205]

Child!reader meeting/ joining the white beard pirates

A/n: Is this a little bit all over the place? Yes. Do I care? No❤️ I got so much love for my previous writing, so I added some more! Giving specific love to the white beard crew ❤️❤️

-ft. Portagas D. Ace, Marco the Phoenix, thatch death

-TW: spoilers for ace’s introduction to the white beard pirates and thatches death, hints of abandonment, yelling, and not much but a little bit of angst in Ace’s section.

-

[■□□□□□□□□□] 10%

☆꧁༒Ĺoading. . .༒꧂☆

[■■■■■■□□□□] 60%

☆꧁༒Ĺoading. . .༒꧂☆

[■■■■■■■■■■] 100%

☆꧁༒Complete༒꧂☆

꧁ head cannons ꧂

You were probably found when you were still an infant, so you have no memory of your life before the crew

They probably say something like you magically appeared in a barrel or one of thatch’s botched recipes spurred you into existence if you ever go around asking questions about it

They want to keep you happy so you don’t doubt your familial bonds

But of course, watching one of your brothers kill your other brother over a weird-looking fruit probably put a damper on that :)

Marco remembers the freezing wind of that faithful day, the ocean breeze picking up shards of ice as a seemingly normal ration run with his friend turned into meeting the youngest member of their crew.

A loud bang shook Marco out of the memory as his head swirled to the door. The familiar childish screams and laughs at least hinted that the noise wasn’t causing pain; he couldn’t help but smile.

It’s been five years since that winter storm, and although the phoenix hated the cold more than anything, he couldn’t help but be glad for that storm.

Thatch stumbled on a hidden branch covered in snow. Marco grabbed his arm before glaring at the other man

“We had to come during the middle of winter-yoi?” He snarked for the umpteenth time since the two got caught in the storm. Thatch huffed and rolled his eyes “bug off bird brains; they’ve got the best beef in the west blue!” He snapped. The two came upon a rushing river, and thatch groaned, nodding towards the rubble of a bridge that once stood

“Seems the ice and rapids took out the bridge, be a dear big bird and Carry me over?” Thatch slid a sly smile to Marco, who rolled his eyes “you always boast about your ability to swim yoi-“ the rattle of wood cut off Marco's comment, and the two commanders glanced over at the bridge, noting a small box that was caught on some rubble, the two watched as the box shook against the tide leering to the side causing the freezing water to slip into the box. The cold caused the young occupant in the box to let out a blood-curdling scream causing both of the men to tense.

“It's open,” Marco responded to the gentle taps on his door. It opened with a protesting squeak, and the young child peeped their head around the corner

“Big brother! Ace is being mean to me-” the child pouted, causing the old doctor to chuckle “(Y/N), what did you do now yoi?”

“Did nothin'! Promise!” they huffed, sending a glare toward the doctor “it's all Teaches fault! He told me lunch was ready and to go wake up ace!” Marco hummed, resting his chin on his hand, “and, let me guess, you decided to wake him up by tickling him, yoi ?” he couldn't help but smile at the way they puff out their cheeks while muttering a small ‘maybe.’

Marco got up from his seat and gently ruffled the youngster's hair “come on, let's go see if thatch can whip up some food to help soothe ace yoi,” he said with a smile, gently pushing the younger out the door

“Okay!” they called out and started running down the hall, leaving the old man behind to wallow in his sentimental ways with a smile.

After first getting brought onto the ship you know damn well these men didn't know how to care for a baby-

I can just imagine them trying to feed you by offering you a giant turkey leg 💀

Since Marco stayed on the ship most of the time, he was your number-one babysitter. It would have been pops, but he was so nervous that he’d hurt you cause you're so small :(

If Marco couldn't, then thatch would be the second-best person; he’d keep you in the kitchen so you didn't get into too much trouble

Thatch and Marco were there for most of your significant milestones, and we’re always quick to share it with the rest of the crew

Thatch stared down at the carnage that graced his kitchen. Plates were broken and strewn on the floor; his delicate fresh vegetables smushed and drooled on. He turned to the rather cute culprit. Who was asleep on the tile floor, red hands from smoothing the tomatoes, holding an eggplant as a pillow.

Thatch pinched the bridge of his nose, suppressing a scream. He looked back at the sleeping toddler and gently picked them up, stirring them from their slumber “so- what do you have to say for yourself?” He grumbled.

The baby in his arms just smiled and lazily babbled at him, mouth full of baby teeth and eyes sparkling with more stars than the night sky; really, how could he stay mad at this adorable creature? The cook smiled at the child’s nonsense, and the baby reached up for him, dirty hands smearing tomato juice all over his white collar, and he rolled his eyes

“Alright, alright, you little demon, let’s get you cleaned up before you make even more of a mess- of course, you start crawling when I’m not looking-“ the chief mumbled and headed for the bathroom. He ran the warm water and gently placed the toddler down in the water, making sure he cleaned off any remaining mess from their skin.

Ace was a different story.

Im not saying fuck canon time line… but-

The ex-captain of the spade pirates infamously wanted nothing to do with the white-beard crew.

Despite his multiple murder attempts- the youngest member of white beards crew always seemed to follow him around like a little duckling

Did it remind him of his little brothers? Yes. Was he going to admit that you were adorable and could do no wrong in his eyes? …maybe-

Look all I’m saying is-

Ace: *sees a small child* big brother mode A C T I V A T E D.

Ace sat against the railing of the Moby-Dick, twiddling his knife in his hands as he thought of his latest ploy against White-beard. He could feel eyes burning into his side, which he pointedly ignored.

The boy let out a sigh; that brat sure was relentless- he hesitantly raised his eye, meeting the gazes of the crew's youngest member. They let out a soft squeak before ducking behind the corner they used for cover. Ace narrowed his eyes as he huffed out his nose, sliding his knife back into his carrier

“Leave me alone, brat,” he muttered, but the startled gasp was enough that he knew his message got across, the child hesitantly stepped out from behind the corner, and a pang of guilt stabbed through ace’s chest- the kid couldn't have been older than 10. He watched as they seemed to look for their words

“Um… big brother… Marco wanted me to make sure you were, um… you were okay…” they hesitated, looking over aces face and waiting for a reply.

Ace couldn’t help but scrunch his nose in irritation “im not your big brother.” he stated, pointedly rising from his sitting position and starting to walk away. The young pirate gasped and quickly followed after him “b-but gramps said you joined the family-” the child worried their lip between their teeth, recalling macros words

“Be patient,” Marco hummed as (y/n) excitedly swung their legs in their chair, “but I wanna meet my new brother!” they almost whined, pulling a chuckle from the doctor. “In time, Ace is... Let's say having a hard time adjusting to the family.” Marco turned and ruffled his younger siblings' hair. “Think of him like a cat; he isn't comfortable yet; he might bare some claws, yoi.”

(y/n) pushed their bottom lip into a pout, “but he’s my brother- brothers don't hurt each other!” Marco gave them a weary smile “all im saying is just be slow.”

Ace’s scoff of disdain pulled them from their memory, and they stopped, almost slamming right into his leg “im not a part of your stupid family!” he yelled, taking the younger pirate aback

In all the trouble (y/n) had gotten into, they had never heard anyone yell at them with such anger. They bit their lip roughly, holding back the welling emotions as their eyes pricked with tears. They looked down and Ace was taken aback, regretting his tone, not his words.

When (Y/n) looked back up, big fat tears were rolling down their cheeks as they suppressed a sob “y- you just aren’t comfortable yet-“ they wept, using their first to wipe away the futile tears and snot “t-that’s why your claws are out.” They quickly turned away from ace and ran before he could even mutter an apology. Ace tsked and promptly turned away. Guilt was eating him up from the inside.

[elen-aranel]

Dearest darling Elen, when last was it that I bothered you with the idea of Regency!Pike?

Old friend of the family, Captain Pike, who was your brother's commanding officer on the good ship Enterprise, and who was invited to winter at your parent's house?

Who agrees to chaperone you and one of your suitors in the parlor, whom he finds most unimpressive

Who encouragingly offers, "He's kind," When your suitor leaves, and guffaws when you counter: "He's an idiot."

Dany my love I am sorry to take so long to reply to this ask but I have been rotating this idea in my mind, considering it, researching it, enjoying it

“An idiot? That may be, but he’s an idiot with a large estate, and important friends.” The captain shrugs. “He might be Sir Idiot before all is said and done.”

“And am I to be Lady Idiot?” You rise, feeling as though the walls of the drawing room are drawing closer. Feeling the need to move. “I’ve never aspired to jewels and pin-money. A clergyman like my father would have at least been to Oxford. Or someone like—”

You bite your tongue.

You were about to say someone like you.

But Captain Pike… whose company is so entertaining, whose contributions to conversation can be so stimulating… who is so handsome — far better looking than the idiot, or any of the small number of other men who have paid attention to you — has shown you no particular partiality. He is simply a friend.

“Someone like…? Is there another gentleman whose attentions you would prefer to entertain? Perhaps you would like me to accompany you on a walk next time?”

“Oh, no.” You can see you have piqued his curiosity, but you move to stifle it. You shake your head, meet his eyes and put sincerity into your voice. “There is no one else.”

You find you’ve wandered to the window, and you peep out between the curtains. The gilded carriage is passing through the gate, taking your suitor away.

You turn back to Captain Pike. “I merely meant to say, someone I can talk to. But I had rather be an old maid, and dote on my nephews and nieces. My brother’s children.”

He stands, and joins you by the window. “Your brother is young yet, and the sea is a dangerous place.” His tone is serious for a moment, and you almost see storms in his blue eyes. But they turn amused, and the corner of his mouth lifts. “And I might not promote him to Lieutenant.”

You roll your eyes — you know him well enough to know his words are a provocation, nothing more. But he has a point — your brother cannot inherit your father’s livings. He will need the patronage of others to make his way in the world.

“Papa would appeal to the Admiral if you don’t. Fine, then, a governess, or a teacher at a school for girls. Or perhaps I shall cut my hair, don my brother’s clothes, and run away to sea myself. I don’t believe I would be the first to do such a thing.”

He raises his brows at that, surprised, then tilts his head, studying you. He was curious before, but this is something more. Still, you meet his gaze, and the moment holds.

“And how would a fine lady such as yourself like the sea, and all the privations we face in the Navy? Surely your brother has written to you of the hardships he faces aboard my ship?”

You incline your head. “He has indeed, on many occasions. And I know I would not… relish… engagements with the Spanish. But he has also written to me of palm trees, distant shores… sunlight sparkling on the ocean. I feel sure I could become accustomed to hard work, if it meant I was able to see some more of the world. If it gave me even some measure of the freedom that I lack in my present station.”

You sigh, looking out of the window again, to the tiny part of the world you know. “I suppose I shall have to marry the idiot, to protect my dear mamma in years to come if nothing else. And I do understand my fortune, truly. But… my dowry is next to nothing, and there are many other ladies who would near kill to be mistress of Hampton Park. Why does the idiot press these attentions on me?”

The door opens and your mother bustles in, followed by the housemaid laden with a fresh pot of tea and a plate of biscuits.

But you don’t think you imagine hearing Pike mutter, “Why indeed?” to himself in answer to your question.

[amoristt]

Grazing the Fire | V

we are SO back!!!!!!!!!

reblogs + tags and replies will make my entire day as i put a lot of effort into this :)!

story continues beneath the read more. let me know if you can’t access it!

warnings: language

want to support me? here's my ko-fi!

-----

You find yourself back at that little park sooner than you’d originally thought. The bench is cold underneath you, the wind drawing off the ocean chilling you to your core, dragging orange tinted leaves along the waving grass. The morning sun is bright and inescapable. Shadows of birds overhead dancing along the scenery- a glorious morning indeed- albeit damped by the fall’s approaching cold. 

But your mind was elsewhere, unable to process the gorgeous view encompassing you. Your foot taps on the ground, hands drumming on your jeaned thighs. Every one of your nerves tick under your skin with each passing second, your eyes focusing on nothing in between the quick glances of your phones screen. No calls. Not yet. God it was killing you. You could hardly conceal your anxiety- or, perhaps, your excitement. Pure, raw thrills that tried to pull the corners of your lips into a grin. You fought against the urges to save face, on the rare chance someone was watching you. No one needed to know about what you had done. 

This was so entirely out of character for you. Every last aspect. You, in your years of life, have never considered yourself to be a vindictive person, even when it was well deserved. Sure, you may have wanted them to die, but you never showed it. Never made a peep. Never rocked the boat. Watched life pass you by and rolled belly up at every turn. You didn’t even take the backseat in your life- you were locked in the trunk.

Last year you would have said your greatest fear was to paint yourself a target. 

But… Recently that had changed. Recently you’d felt like maybe you stopped caring as much. Your academics were just barely starting to slip. Not enough to notice. Yet. You stopped trying to mesh into your peers. Barely had conversations with them all together. Their personalities had started to itch their way under your skin in the most annoying of ways. Boring or pesky at their best. and downright miserable at their worst.

You hated to admit it, but Nathan was right. This town really was nothing but fake. He’d also taught you something new. New, and shiny and important: when someone fucks with you, you get mad and you get even. 

Like a siren piercing through dead air, your brain is guided back to the world. You answer instantly, grinning and speaking before it even gets the chance to fully connect. “Is it done?”

“You’re goddamn right it is. Those hoes have no fucking clue what’s about to hit them.” Nathan’s voice is much cooler than your own, as if this were just another casual Tuesday for him.

Maybe it is. 

“You beautiful bastard.” You’re so giddy you feel like you could kick your feet. “Are they gonna’ know it was us? I mean, not many people have open access to skunk pheromones…”

“Don’t be such a pansy. They’re definitely gonna’ know it was us but big deal. What are they gonna’ do? Tell Madison? I'd pay to see that chump go against my laywers.” 

“Well, legalities aside, I do share four classes with them. Two of which I sit right in front of ‘em. They’re not gonna’ be very happy about all their things being skunk bombed over the holiday weekend. Kiiinda worried they might stick some gum in my hair.”

“Well then I humbly suggest you switch seats cuz’ I’d rather you not stink me up.” Nathan snickers on the line. “Besides, you’ve got three whole days until they’re back in there sticking cotton up their noses and drowning all their shit in bleach. Gives you plenty of time to think up an alibi.” 

“You sound like you know what you’re doing.” You say, mindlessly watching a bird pluck a fish from the waters beyond. “You do this often?”

“Please. This is a light day for me.”

“Consider me shaking in my boots.”

“Better be, bitch.” On Nathan’s line, you hear the sound of a car door shutting, wind whipping at the mic. “I’m getting back into my dorm. Meet me at that big shitty fountain in front of the school Monday morning. Don’t be late or it’s your room next.”

The line drops before you get the chance to answer him. You imagine April and May’s room filled thick with clouds of skunk pheromone, sitting on their clothes and beds all weekend long. Seeping into the walls, the carpets, everything. It filled you with a type of happiness you’d not felt in a long time. 

How you were going to survive the long weekend in anticipation, you weren’t sure. All you knew was come Monday your ass was going to be at that fountain. 

-----

It’s both a blessing and a curse that the weekend melts into a blur. You’d gone home, visited your parents, ate lovely meals and slept in the bed that you’d grown to miss so badly. But, all throughout, you couldn’t stop thinking about Monday. About Nathan. 

About how you were excited to see him. The memory of that angry… Thing that had come at you so intensely back at the diner weeks ago seemed like a forgotten dream- like that couldn't be him. So accusatory, so defensive without a cause. You never realized how far he’d come- just how much he’d softened his edges for you. You were on the other side now.

Why are you so angry all the time? You’d asked with bite, rarely opened lips bared in defense. Never had someone come at you with such vitriol. You shocked yourself as you held your ground. But, maybe you understood it now. Started to feel that same poison seeping under your skin, watched the world through his lenses and witnessed that somber dreariness bleed into your vision. But, even so, he was always bright. He was a glowing hot ember. He had started to become, well… Everything. 

Your mom had asked you why you’d been so spaced out, mind elsewhere. She pegged it so quickly it made your head spin: you had a crush. A deep rooted sapling that was sprawling through your veins type of crush. A stay up all night, daydream all day kind of crush. You felt so special- so seen. You couldn’t help it- Arcadia Bay’s little fucking monster couldn’t get enough of you. Saw something in you among all the other blurry bodies rushing about the little seaside town. 

And now, back in the bay and standing before Blackwell academy, you never thought you’d be so excited that school was back in full swing. No half day, so assembly. Just class after drawn out class surrounded by your peers. At the fountain, you saw Nathan there with an open binder in his lap. He didn’t notice your approach, engulfed by it’s contents that served to drag curiosity out of you. You approached in silence- just barely close enough to peek. 

It makes you hesitate. 

From the short glance you’d stolen, you saw what you’d expected: beautiful, gloomy photos printed out and slid into laminated pockets. But you also saw paper drawings of dark, dark scribbles. Eyes and hands and deep, black shadows. The pages crumbled with the thick lines to show his urgency. They disappear in the blink of an eye when he snaps the binder shut offendedly with a scoff.

“Can I fucking help you?”

“Why so secretive?” You tease, keeping the moment light, keeping him from raising his guard.

“How about none of your business?” He gripes in return, shoving his binder to the side. 

“Sharing is caring?” 

“Can you hop off my dick?” 

“Aw, come on Prescott. Can’t be worse than the BDSM wall.” You say with a snarky grin, plopping down beside him. A few students walked past, a couple of them almost gawking at the sight of you choosing to spend your time with Nathan. When he didn’t answer, you faked shock. “Wow, worse than that, huh?”

“Shut up.” He grunted. “That last thing I need is you digging through my personal shit.”

You had opened your mouth to say more, to push just a little harder, but you stopped yourself. He was being… Genuine. This was important to him- something he wasn’t ready to bare yet. Try as he might to make himself come off as mysterious, as dangerously secretive, you saw right through him. He was shying away from you. 

“Alright, alright. I get it.” You looked down at your lap. A cool breeze floated by, a vulnerable tenacity thickening the air. Fingers drumming against your thighs once more, you swallowed hard. Maybe this was your chance to pull something of substance from him. To give a little, let him feel like you were truly there to connect with him. Like gaining the trust of a feral animal.

"Can't help it. I’m pretty nosey.” You dramatically sigh.

“Fucking clearly.” Nathan huffs, fingers absently running along the plastic top of the binder.  

“Hey, don’t act like you don’t immediately start going through my shit whenever you get the chance.”

He grinned and pointed a boney finger at you. “That’s because fuck you, and I can do whatever I want. Sharing isn’t good for shit.”

Give a little. You reminded yourself. 

“I can do what I want.” You mocked, earning an eyeroll. “You’re right, though. I've never really felt heard when I'd share things. So I just started trying to figure out everyone else's shit."

"Like some unwanted shrink?"

You shrug. "Maybe a little. I like to learn."

"Someone didn't get enough of daddies attention."

You glare at him pointedly and shove his arm. "Hey don't be a dick. He may be an asshole, but-... He's, well..." You bounce words up in your mind, searching for something nice to say. Nothing comes.

You remember being a child, desperately craving that fathers love you saw in all the movies and shows. You enver really found it. He had been there your whole life- sure, but... Never truly there. He was like a ghost in his own home. A smiling face in the photo's littering the walls but never present when you needed him. Your shoulders fall.

Nathan shifts. "He's what?"

You swallow, and shrug. "He wasn't really around, I guess. Guess you pegged me right."

He stares down at his lap for a moment and picks at his black jeans. You expected him to laugh, or in some way revel in the fast that he'd nailed it right on the head. But then, he speaks.

And he bites the bait. 

“Feel free to trade. My dad’s so far up as my ass he could probably see through my mouth.” He started, leaning back with unfocused eyes. You could see the way his nerves start to tense at the thought. “Like I’m just some sort of puppet for him to control.”

You see real emotion in his eyes. It’s familiar, a simmering anger, but it’s real. Raw. It steals your breath away. For fear of pushing him too far, you back off and leave it there. 

“Fuck dads.” You say cooly.

He breathes a laugh. “Fuck dads.”

In the distance, almost right on que, you see the unmistakable figures of two sorry girls walking towards you. All alone, heads hung low, they passed you both by with sideways glances. You could see the way they wanted to say something, scream and accuse and demand justice. But Nathan’s presence was heavy. He leaned back once more, rested on his elbows with that signature smirk.

“Hey you two,” He sang. “Digging the new cologne. Smells like ass and B.O.”

If shame could be a person, it had been doubled. They skirted by with their heads hung low and tails tucked between their legs, with you watching bearing the brightest shit eating grin you could muster. They knew. They absolutely knew and there was nothing they could do about it. The power you felt in that moment was energizing- made your skin buzz. Made you want to go out and do it again, live on the edge just a little further. Maybe this is how it happens- your descent into fulfilling that rebellious teenager role you always left empty. 

Nathan’s laughter beside you only spurred it on. He watched them with those slitted blue eyes, shoulders rising and falling in harmony with your own giggling. The sun caught the flairs of his hair. It was a beautiful moment, one that made you realize how badly you needed this. You needed to feel your hands on the reins of life, and he would be your mentor.  

But then the shrill echo of a bell rang out and drew you back in reality. Your eyes shifted forward to the now looming building, the dark windows, the long steps up to the front doors. This would be one of your first tardies that were within your control- God, what would your mother think?

The moment you make a move to getup, Nathan’s laughter falls and dissipates into dust. 

“Fuck’re you going?” He asked, quick like he was offended you were taking your leave. 

“I dunno,” You sigh. “Class?”

“Fuck that.” Nathan’s leaning back again, getting comfortable. “You’re skipping.”

“Like hell I am.” You scoff.

“You are.”

“I’m not!”

“You spend all day with those two hoes and you’re gonna stink like shit for the rest of the week. You don’t want that, do you?” He sneers, but you can sense the urgency underlying there.

You decide to give in a little. Tap at the bait. “And we’re gonna, what? Do drugs and party?”

“Now you’re talking.”

“Nathan. No.”

“Fucking christ, ” The eyeroll was audible. Then, quietly, he mumbles, “Usually I can’t get people off my dick about that shit.”

“Well you can save it for them cuz’ I’m not interested.” You shove your hands into your jean packets, watching him. He looks to the side while he brings himself to his feet, but you don’t miss the way that he seems to linger on your remark.

“Yeah.” He breathes, tongue darting out between his lips. “You don’t need shit from me.”

It draws a laugh from you, as well as a languid shrug of your shoulders. “Not a damn thing. From you, or anyone.”

“Keep it that way, yeah?” Nathan takes quick steps ahead of you. “I’ve just about fucking had it with all the twee hoes and leeches. Now hurry the hell up before Sargeont Madison’s on our ass.”

And just like that, you’re up. Blackwell Academy fades into nothing and your vision surrounds Nathan, tunnels onto him as he leads you to his truck and throws the passenger door open before climbing into the driver seat. He’s tapping on the steering wheel by the time you hop into the seat, wired up and ready to go.

“Where are we going?” You ask as you buckle your seatbelt over your chest, choosing to ignore the way he grunts at your interest in safety. He himself takes on the risk, rushing the truck into drive before he’s launching out of the parking lot. Burnt rubber and smoke waves you both goodbye.

The sun leaks in through the window and paints the edges of him. “Patience, my uptight friend.”

You glare at him. “Uptight? Seriously?”

“I don’t hear you denying it!” When you cross your arms, he laughs. “See what I mean? Fucking relax. Chill out! Live a little.”

You know he’s right. You feel that he’s right but you can’t stop the scoff that slips past your lips as you toss yourself against the seat, staring out the window. “Cuz you’re just so chill all the time.”

“The chillest.”

“I think I can name exactly one time you’ve been relaxed.” 

Nathan eyes you curiously. “And when was that?”

“When you were-”

You stop yourself dead in your tracks as the image of Nathan sleeping floods your mind. Tucked on his side beside you, unbothered. Vulnerable. You remembered how it had floored you when you’d rolled over and really took in the sight of him. There was no frustration, no anger. No drawn brows and pointed glares. Just… Him. But you couldn’t say that. If you did you were damn sure Nathan would put a stop to that; slam that shit in your face and lock the door. Maybe even burn the house down after for good measure. 

“When what?” He hums, curious now. “Don’t fucking hide shit from me now.”

You click your tongue. “I’m a woman of many secrets.”

“Bullshit. Tell me.”

It’s then you realize that it’s over. If there’s one thing Nathan’s about, it’s that the man never lets up. You’d spent so much time curating the foundations of… Something between you two that you weren't sure where to go from there. It felt lose-lose regardless of your answer. A sigh drifts out of you.

“Remember all the shit with Tate, and I slept in your room?” He doesn’t answer, eyes forward. You swallow. “I woke up a little before the alarm went off. I was like, half asleep, but, I don’t know…” You look up at him for some sort of response, but he gives you none. Doesn’t even spare you a glance. It makes you feel awfully judged. “You were still sleeping like the dead and you looked pretty relaxed.”

Finally, he looks at you. For the first time you can confidently say that you left Nathan Prescott speechless. His eyes searched you over as if looking for something, but it never came. The nerves building in you forced you to shift uncomfortably in your seat. 

“You are a fucking stalker.” He deadpans after a pause.

“You asked!”

“Are you one of those fucked up freak ass hoes who take photos of people when they’re sleeping? Am I about to get blackmailed?”

“Oh my god,” You huff and cross your arms. “Shut the fuck up.”

Nathan forces out a scoff, shrugging. “I don’t know, this is a big deal. Not sure I wanna’ know what you’re doing with that picture.”

“Said the creep who uses pornos as a decoration.” CD’s poke out from the glove compartment and you pluck one, glance at the cover. A woman in a bikini takes up the space, white words over the top reading Deftones. You hadn’t really pegged Nathan as a rock kind of a guy, but now you could see it. Little angry pieces of him that resonated with heavier tones. Maybe it helped him unwind. You hold the CD up to him, flash a grin and giggle. 

“What was it you said earlier? 'Why is it that the first fucking thing you do everytime I invite you somewhere is start touching my shit?' I’m just gonna’ make your sorry ass start walking everywhere.”

“First of all, you basically dragged me here, and now I have to think up an excuse why I wasn’t in class or my dorm today. Second of all,” You toss the CD back into the little scattered pile. “I’m shocked at the lack of whale songs.”

“Jesus, are you ever gonna’ let that shit go?”

“Never.”

There’s a shift in the air, something lighthearted that doesn’t weigh your chest down. In the rear view, now just a small fragment in the backdrop, you see the rigid tops of Blackwell. You’d expected more anxiety to pair alongside your adventure out, maybe some worries about detention or losing credits. But… Honestly, in that moment, you mostly just felt at peace. Maybe it wasn’t something in the air changing- maybe it was you. The person you’d been when you’d first arrived on campus- with thick headphones, a notebook and bright eyes, was morphing into something else. Little more jaded, a little less apprehensive. 

Which made no sense given your current situation. After the things you’d been through with your friends, with Tate and all the other brats running circles at Blackwell, you should have been this little stressed ball of anxiety. And add /the/ Nathan Prescott into the mix? You should be spiraling. But you aren’t. 

You glance at him. He isn’t either. 

The oceanside sprawls along the roads, rich sands glowing under the sun. Seagulls perch atop light posts and dance in the sky overhead. Arcadia Bay had a way of holding your attention with it’s lavish wildlife, its mountainous greenery and beckoning water. You hadn’t noticed it until recently- well, not entirely. You’d notice how expensively humble the town appeared during your first few visits while feeling out colleges. You noticed the quaint little diners just as much as you noticed the rich, looming mansions. You skirted by without a thought, barely even stopping to smell the roses. 

“Alright,” Nathan starts, and suddenly the view of the gorgeous water is gone. Replaced with a heavy sign as he pulled into some sort of driveway. Dirt and grim filled your vision, stacks of broken down machinery and glass piled high as the eye could see. Much less appealing to look at. “We’re here.”

You raise a brow at him. “And where is… Here?”

He swings the door open and hops out, stretches as if the drive had been so long and tiresome on him. “Maybe get out and take a look?”

So, you do. You shove the door open and jump onto the ground, feeling the gravel shift underneath your shoes. It’s a junkyard, full and outlined with tires and trash. The air is thicker here, unpleasant. There’s countless containers and waste, as well as an abundance of crushed beer cans dotting every corner. The heavy sign catches your attention once more. 

“American Rust Junkyard?” 

“That right.” He walks around the side his truck, that cherry red popping so expensively compared to the dismal trashyard. It takes a few moments, but he retrieves a bat from the bed of his truck. 

You shift your weight. “What are we doing here?”

Nathan tosses the bat to you, barely giving you a second to realize and catch it in your arms haphazardly. It’s heavier than it looks, and littered with dents and scuffs, evidence of it’s past use. You watch him as he walks into the entrance way, grinning ear to ear in that fox-like expression. 

“We’re gonna have some fun.”

[legoflowrs]

flowers can you some Stan headcanons🤭🤭🤭

HEADCANNONS

Stan Marsh

AGED UP TO 18 PEEPS

cw: drinking, smoking, drugs, abuse, slight nsfw, addiction

a/n: hehe i hope u like this ruby!!! also this is for anon and @wonyoungies-world that also requested stan head cannons <3

also again same with kyle in the regular head cannons style are together but in the relationship ones he’s with reader!

- Ok I have like two versions of Stan in my head. football Stan and emo loser Stan. I love both versions a lot lmao.

- Stan has a shitty relationship with his Dad. He loathes him for moving him away from his friends to tegridy farms. His Dad was very absent in his life so Stan has always felt extremely neglected.

- He absolutely adores Sharon . He’s such a mummas boy. He goes to her for everything.

- Stan is THE bisexual queen lol!

- His closet is just oversized sports tees and baggy jeans.

- I think his family is catholic but he isn’t a religious person at all.

- He had a weird relationship with Shelly growing up but as teenagers Shelly took Stan under her wing because she saw how Randy’s neglect affected him.

- He’s absolutely petrified of turning into Randy.

- Bleaches his hair at 3am drunk one night with Kyle so he looks less like his Dad.

- Bro has been in LOVE with Kyle forever.

- Thinks he’s super slick with it (he’s not).

- Didn’t wanna ruin the friendship.

- They kissed once at a party but didn’t speak about it.

- After they moved to the farm he stopped smoking weed cause it made him angry.

- Has a mullet for a while because Kenny influenced him.

- Saved up his pocket money for a shitty electric guitar and it his pride and joy.

- Loves playing music it’s an escape for him.

- Like I said in the Kenny head cannons, Stan forms a band for the second half of high school.

- Some of his favourite memories are with the band.

- Doesn’t hate coffee but doesn’t love it. Wendy put him onto chai lattes.

- Has a really good friendship with Kenny.

- Really struggled with alcohol abuse throughout high school. I think he didn’t wanna admit he needed help it made him feel weak.

- Loves blueberry muffins.

- Spends heaps of time playing minecraft with Kyle and Kenny.

- My guy is greasy, starts looking after himself when he hits 16.

- If he played sports he plays football and ice hockey.

- He’s really good at both but it’s not where his passion is.

- Soooo fond of animals. I think he’d volunteer at the same shelter karen does.

- Did not get out of bed for days when Sparky died.

- Kyle surprised him with a puppy after about a year of dating.

- Deftones enjoyer 😭

- Really struggled with depression. Didn’t go on meds until Kyle literally begged him.

- His guilty pleasure is painting (HERE ME OUT ON THIS ONE).

- Sets up a little corner of his garage with an easel and spends a lot of time there.

- Always has headphones in.

- Went to rehab right before college.

- Really struggled to figure out what his direction in life should be.

- I think he went into veterinary work!! Switched to animal and plant conservation after he realised he couldn’t deal with putting pets down.

- Worked at the library for a while, he liked the peace and quiet.

- Started helping Heidi and Kyle with the community garden.

- Quarterback obviously lol.

- His favourite breakfast food is pancakes.

- Loves the ocean. Isn’t a great swimmer but Kenny taught him to surf.

- After working at the library he really got into reading books.

- Listens to brown noise to get to sleep.

- Still wears his ratty ass beanie everywhere.

- Hates summer, loves spring.

- The day him and Kyle started dating was one of the best days of his life.

- Him and Kyle share his wired headphones on long road trips 🥹

- Can’t do laundry to save his damn life.

- Gets in weird cleaning moods and power scrubs his house.

- Him and Kyle get an apartment together.

- Loves hearing Kyle play piano.

- Can’t eat vegetables without dip (same).

- Marjorine does his eyeliner before gigs.

- That boy can sleep just about anywhere.

Stan in a relationship

- So clingy like SO CLINGY.

- When he’s in a relationship he adores his significant other.

- Loves to lay his head on your chest while your fingers thread through his hair.

- Will make you put your feet on his and slow dances with you.

- Always touching you even if it’s lowkey, linking pinkies, bumping shoulders.

- Is so scared he’s not good enough for you, will require a lot of reassurance.

- When he goes through his depressive episodes he becomes very withdrawn. Will take him a while to open up.

- You will push his towards seeking professional help but he’ll only do it when he acknowledges he actually needs it.

- Always calls and texts you when he’s drunk.

- When y’all had sex for the first time he was a nervous wreck. So scared of doing something wrong and embarrassing himself.

- After a while he learnt what you like really well and knows how to make you feel good.

- Such a switch.

- Hear me out he’s such a thigh guy!

- His love language is quality time 100%

- Prefers nights in over going out! Y’all watch bad movies for shits and gigs.

- Supports whatever you do, number one cheerleader type beat.

- You’re at all of his gigs in the front row screaming your heart out. He always melts at the sight of it.

- You paint his nails black.

- He likes to braid your hair for fun.

- He sleeps over at yours a lot because being around his dad is hard.

- Struggles to sleep so y’all go on 3am drives for donuts.

- Long late night drives together!

- You guys swim in Starks Pond over the summer and ice skate there in winter.

- There’s no such thing as a quick kiss with stan, he always kisses you very passionately.

- He’s so tender with you when you guys are in bed and he wakes up first.

- Had made you so many playlists and sends you new music recommendations all the time.

- Wrote a song for your anniversary and sung it to you. You cried for hours.

- When he was struggling with his sense of direction in life you guys made a bucket list together.

- One of his bucket list items was to go to Europe so y’all did exactly that.

- You surprised him with a puppy one year after you moved in together. He cried.

- Sunday brunch is a weekly thing, he always gets pancakes.

- Y’all nap in the sun together in your hammock.

- He reads you his favourite books before bed 😭😭

- You will do drunk karaoke together.

- Matching bracelets!

- He likes to kiss your neck and shoulders while he stands behind you.

- Likes to peck your nose and see your face scrunch up.

- Calls you beautiful at least 50 times a day.

- Has a polaroid picture of you in his phone case.

- You wear his clothes and it turns him on LOL.

- Was terrified of marriage until he met you. It completely changed his perspective.

- Will propose to you on a walk you guys do in Lake Como. You both cry.

- I think Stan will try so hard to be the best version of himself around you and it makes your heart melt.

[currentfications]

Happy 2024 (is that even the correct wording?) folks, thank you all for being really cool peeps on this corner of the internet x

To all 227 of you (damn that’s plenty of y’all), thank you for putting up with my oddity (˶‾᷄ ⁻̫ ‾᷅˵) and sorry for my complete incompetence in updating fics- to my defence (there’s no defence I’m just raw dogging AuDHD unmedicated lazy)

Special thanks to @lil-elliesgf and @bada-lee-ily (@wiselight I seemed to struggle with tagging you a lot, I’m v sorry if I missed tagging you a few times!!) for being w ocean eyes since the v beginning, and to all of you who are reading along (((o(*ﾟ▽ﾟ*)o)))

I honestly didn’t expect this many of you when I scrambled back into writing(and good god am I rusty at it- my wordings??? is so strange sometimes???), but thanks for tuning in x

More shout outs to…

@urlovebot and @woniverse-writes for being the ogs that i found in the fandom, the little prompts and moth to a flame is *chefs kiss* perfection ◉‿◉

@badasgirlfriend for their smaus- tbh I was SHOOKETH the first time I saw your fic, my pea brain cannot imagine how much effort must’ve been put into them??!? Everytime u post? A blessing <3

Same goes to @nimxie and @venuszn for dropping the loveliest fics (/ω＼) blessed fr

@dallaji, @sun-nyy , and @sydnerss y’all can have my first born’s left kidney x

@princhii best wishes to u and pk in 2024 ◉‿◉

These so many more of y’all I wanna tag??? But your layouts (don’t get me wrong y’all run beautiful blogs but I am old and weary and unable to keep up) are so different I’m struggling Σ（ﾟдﾟlll）

But anyhoo thanks for a great year, let’s go do it all over again next year ☆*:.｡. o(≧▽≦)o .｡.:*☆

[dragons-bones]

FFXIV Write Entry #24: Sovenance

Prompt: refraction (free write!) || Master Post || On AO3

--

A wiggle here, a wiggle there, and pop!

Roksana tumbled to the ground with a whee! and Amandina followed a heartbeat later, landing lightly on her feet. Roksana got to her feet, giving herself a good shake, and the pair of carbunclets looked around.

…I think we took a wrong turn at the gemology lab, Amandina whispered, ears pinning back against her head.

Roksana cheeped agreement.

Above them, singing in chorus, were the enormous aether batteries that powered all the wards and protections in the Arcanists’ Guild. The laboratories, the libraries, the classrooms, even the special holding cells for dangerous cargo. Sunk into the last of the subbasements, deep beneath the floor of Galadion Bay, only seven people in the whole of the Guild had the access necessary to even reach this level.

Mommy was one of them, and she did not bring them or their siblings with her. Ever.

The twins pressed up against one another, staring with wide eyes. The aether here was thick and cloying, the giant clusters set into the batteries so potent that the wrong gesture could probably cause a spell to cast. Roksana’s nose twitched under the assault, and she sneezed.

Amandina headbutted her, and then slowly crawled forward on her belly, ears twitching and tails lashing. I dunno how to find our way out, she whispered. It’s hard to sense directions in here. My array feels…weird.

Itchy?

Yeah.

Me, too.

Roksana wriggled her way after her sister, craning her neck back to stare at the battery. The aethersong was loud, too, which was making it hard to think. She pawed at her ear, unsettled. The aethersong didn’t sound right, either.

I think one of the water crystals is broken, she chirped.

Amandina wrinkled her nose. Ew.

Yeah.

The two stared up at the battery together for a while longer, and then Amandina shuffled away to poke her nose into the far corners. Probably trying to find a spot where they could wiggle through the wards and into voidspace and back up to Mommy’s office, despite how sleepy and confused the aether was making them; Amandina was very good at finding spots like that. Too bad the spot they had come through was too high up on the wall, close to the ceiling, for them to reach.

Roksana’s attention, however, was still held by the aether battery. Maybe the water cluster wasn’t broken, but it wasn’t right, either. She sneezed again.

She ilmed a little closer, peering up at the battery. Maybe the cluster had a crack? Maybe it hadn’t been set properly?

She sat up on her hindlegs, nose twitching and ears flicking, and carefully reached up her paw. Maybe—

The pad of her paw brushed ever so gently against the metal of the battery casing.

[THE WATER IS POISON THE WATER IS POISON AND THEY HAVE CHANGED THE WATER IS POISON AND THEY HAVE CHANGED AND THEY WILL KEEP CHANGING EVER AND ON THE WATER IS POISON AND THEY HAVE CHANGED AND THEY WILL KEEP CHANGING EVER AND ON AND— THERE IS FIRE. THE WATER IS POISON AND THE WATER IS GONE IT IS FLASH-BOILED IN AN INSTANT LEAVING THE BEDS BARED AND DEAD AND DYING AND THERE IS NO WHERE FOR THE RIVER TO GO BECAUSE THE RIVER IS GONE AND SO IS THE OCEAN THEIR SIBLING IS NO LONGER WATER. THEIR SIBLING IS LEVIN. THE WATER RETURNS AND IT ROARS FROM UPSTREAM AND FROM THE SEA AND IT RUSHES INTO THE EMPTY WITH RAGE AND GRIEF AND HORROR AND IT IS TOO LATE FOR EVERYTHING IS DEAD EXCEPT THEM THE WATER IS POISON BUT IT IS A DIFFERENT POISON THE WATER IS POISON BUT IT IS A DIFFERENT POISON AND THEY HAVE CHANGED THE WATER IS POISON BUT IT IS A DIFFERENT POISON AND THEY HAVE CHANGED AND THEY WILL KEEP CHANGING EVER AND ON—]

Roksana was wrenched back into awareness, peeping at the top of her lungs and trying to curl into a ball to hide amongst her tails and cover her eyes with her paws, but she couldn’t, because she was currently dangling from Big Sister’s mouth as Big Sister leaped from the ground of the thirteenth basement and through the hole in the wards.

[Careless! Thoughtless! Always having to know even if it means trouble! This is why you are not supposed to wander!] Big Sister was furious, her harmonic no longer the familiar windchime but a howling gale, but for all her rage, she was the eye of the storm, cold and still and relentless.

Big Sister crawled through the spaces of reality, growling low in her throat and slapping aside wards with a paw or smacking away a clinging bit of magic with her tails, forcibly shortening the path between A and B in ways that made spoken gibber uselessly. They crawled for a heartbeat. They crawled for a myriad.

Then Big Sister was stepping into realspace, into Mommy’s office, hopping down from empty air with a commanding warble. Big Brother jerked awake, rolling off the couch, and scrambled over to join them at Roksana and Amandina’s basket.

What happened? he said.

Stupid baby sisters went wandering and touched things they shouldn’t, Big Sister grumbled, her harmonic back to normal. She dropped Roksana next to Big Brother, then turned and hunkered down, wind aether gathering along her haunches. Keep an eye on her, I need to get Amandina.

She leaped, and vanished back into the space between.

Fire and water normally didn’t mix well, but Big Brother had always tolerated her squishing into him because he was warm and it felt gooood, even if grumbled. He didn’t grumble today, though, as Big Brother loafed immediately in her basket and Roksana pressed her face into his side, peeping pathetically and shaking all over. Big Brother wasn’t good at comforting, not like Biggest Brother was, but he started purring immediately.

Roksana couldn’t remember why she was so scared, but she was, and Big Brother was helping, and that was what was most important.

Big Sister re-appeared in a flash of displaced aether, Mommy’s wards rippling, with Amandina hanging docile and contrite by her scruff from Big Sister’s mouth. Big Sister stalked over, deposited Amandina next to Roksana (Amandina immediately cuddled up to her, purring her tiny, squeaky purr), and then promptly loafed on top of them both, starting up a ferocious purr like storm shutters rattling in the wind.

Roksana was starting to feel much better. Big Sister and Big Brother would always keep her safe, and their aether was almost as comforting as Mommy’s or Papa’s.

Mama is going to be upset, Big Sister said primly.

Roksana felt bad again. Please don’t tell! I’m sorry!

Baby sister, if you don’t think Mama isn’t running full speed up the tower right now, you are sorely mistaken, Big Brother drawled.

The aetheric resonance was so strong we felt it through our foci, Big Sister said. Mama wears all our foci on her wrist, she knows something happened to you, and you [will not lie, am I understood?]

Roksana whined wordlessly, but slumped beneath her siblings. Okay… Thank you for saving me, Big Sister.

No thanks necessary, you little troublemaker. Big Sister’s harmonic was at least affectionate beneath the annoyance.

…How did you find us? Amandina chittered.

I followed my nose.

That made sense. Big Sister had the bestest nose in the whole of Mealvaan’s Gate. She could sniff out anything, anywhere.

How did you voidwalk?

I’m Eldest, Big Sister said, as if that explained everything. Which it did.

That was when Mommy burst into the office, chest heaving and breath a wheeze as she stumbled over, Bigger Brother right at her heels. “What happened?” she croaked, gently pushing Big Sister aside to scoop up Roksana and Amandina.

Mommy was scared, which meant she was mad, but even when mad, Mommy cuddles were the best. Roksana promptly burrowed into Mommy’s neck to hide as Amandina crawled up to perch on the opposite shoulder.

We went wandering, Amandina said quietly. And we took a wrong turn, and we ended up in the aether battery room.

I touched it, Roksana admitted. There’s a bad water crystal in it.

“Just touching something with a crystal component out of alignment shouldn’t have caused a reaction like that, my dears,” Mommy said, gently stroking her back and tails. “Can you remember what happened?”

No. I think it was scary, though. Still kinda scared.

Aetheric resonance, Big Sister said, harmonic grim. I think one of the clusters is from the Yafaemi Estuary.

Roksana didn’t know what that meant, but Mommy did, because she said a bad word in Abanian. She didn’t feel like asking what aetheric resonance was right now. Maybe later.

Mommy was upset, and she and Amandina were definitely grounded, but Roksana was warm, and safe, and home, snuggled up with her Mommy and the comforting sound and smell of her aether. Everything would be okay, even if it meant no cake for a sennight.

PREVIOUS || NEXT

[total-drama-takes-takes-2]

ttwt episode 9

“Last time, on Total Takes World Tour: we laughed, we ate, we danced, and some of us even lost in beautiful Quebec. Bonnie accepted their fate as the team’s emotional support dog, while both Max and Kelly grew more suspicious of a certain environmentalist. Julia went ham on Team Yaoi in hopes of getting Patrick eliminated, but fell short when the challenge turned out to be a reward one, saving him another seat aboard the S.S. Drama. Who will be electrocuted this time? Will Phillip ever be able to absorb the moon’s power? Stay tuned to find out right here, on Total Takes: World Tour!”

The galley is full but slow this morning, everyone trudging along to help themselves to another inedible meal before the plane’s descent. The metal hull itself creaks and groans, sending a chill up everyone's spine.

“I wonder what torture we have in store for us today,” Max comments sarcastically, pushing around the soggy toast on his tray. 

“Nothing I couldn’t handle, heh,” Phillip responds. “I’ve been working on my... abilities. Be warned...”

Staci’s head pokes out from around the corner. “Phillip, you left your drawings in the confessional again!” she holds up a few crude drawings of werewolves staring forlornly off into the distance. 

The entire cabin bursts into strained laughter and Phillip sulks. Max ignores him. Bonnie grumbles and faceplants into the table. 

---

First class is tense, but this time, it’s not the usual suspects. 

Ass and Courtney are rather… civil this morning, going about their daily tasks without a peep from either of them. Julia, on the other hand, is pacing the entire length of the cabin, grumbling and cursing to herself, only stopping to throw darts at a picture of Patrick’s face taped to one of the seats. 

Mal is smacking gum loudly, typing on her phone and ignoring the darts whizzing past her head. 

“Stupid, stupid…” Julia grumbles, tossing another projectile. It hits Mal in the thigh. She has no reaction as she scrolls. 

“We need to think ahead,” the blonde insists, slamming her fist to her hand. “Where’s our next challenge going to be?”

“An island. Tropical,” Mal says, not bothering to look up from her phone. “In about… sixteen minutes.”

Julia blinks, then looks out the window over the great expanse of ocean. She turns back with a perplexed expression while Ass raises an eyebrow from across the cabin. “What? How would you even know that?”

Courtney’s eyes widen. “Don’t-!”

“May I present to you-” Mal says, standing and rushing across the cabin. She pulls down a screen map of the world with numerous pins in it. “Mal’s 100% full-proof Total Drama Predictinator!”

Ass and Julia stare. Courtney smacks their forehead. 

“Every season, I create a highly complex AI program that predicts each location, challenge, and eliminations with startling accuracy,” Mal says, pacing between the ends of the map. She speaks matter-of-factly. “According to my findings, we’ll be on an island in the Atlantic ocean.”

The intercom crackles to life. “Wouldn’t be so sure about that, Einstein!” Chris says merrily. “We’ll be landing in Waterloo, Belgium, in-”

The plane suddenly lurches, sending all unbuckled passengers flying. A sputtering, mechanical screech forces everyone to cover their ears and look around at the metal beast nervously. 

“Uh, Chris, you might wanna take a look at this,” Chef says. The intercom then dies and the lights in the plane flicker out seconds before it begins plummeting. 

“Brace yourselves!” Courtney yells. “Assume your positions!”

“Um…” Julia shouts, looking between Ass and Mal as they stare nervously. “We didn’t actually read your guide!”

“WHAT! I spent all night writing- AHHHH!”

The plane plunges, growing closer and closer to the ocean. 

---

Economy has all but buckled in, ducking and covering their heads as luggage and rats fly around the cabin. A loud siren begins to blare, forcing everyone to plug their ears. 

“I can’t die here!” Bonnie yells, pleading with the universe. “Anywhere but here!”

Phillip screams in terror, his high-pitched shrieks out matching the siren in volume. Staci grits their teeth and Kelly, Max, and Bonnie lean away. Patrick rocks back and forth in his seat. 

Only Albert seems unbothered, still flipping through his book without a midst of panic about him. 

---

ALBERT: “What? Everyone was too preoccupied crying for mommy to notice me. What does sudden and terrible death matter, anyway?”

---

At the very last second, the plane deploys a few massive parachutes, and lands softly on the beaches of an island. 

Mal looks out the economy window. “See? Island!”

Julia’s jaw drops. 

---

JULIA: “Okay, she may be crazy- like, class A crazy, nuttier than a nutbar dipped in peanut sauce nutty- but she isn’t stupid. I just have to find a way to use this to my advantage…”

---

The teens uneasily exit the plane, groaning and holding their heads. Most of them are a sickly shade of green, and even Chris looks tussled. 

“That was a nasty trick you pulled,” Courtney says, pointing an accusing finger at Chris and wheezing. “You could’ve killed us!”

“Hey, man, this one wasn’t me,”

Chef walks out from behind the plane, holding a wrench that’s bent in all kinds of wrong ways. He shakes his head. “It’s not looking too good,” he says. “We’re gonna need someone qualified to handle this.”

Chris shudders. 

“So, it’s fixable?” Max asks, crossing his arms. “You guys just don’t want to pay for it?”

“Hey! We’re on a budget!” The host snaps. “I’m sure we’ll figure something out- I’ll call the producers. In the meantime, uh… I guess we’ll do our challenge here. Wherever this is.”

The teams look around the island, taking note of the sandy beaches and lush vegetation. 

“St. Helena,” Mal comments. “We’re off the coast of South Africa, east of Rio de Janeiro. Coordinates 15° 58′ 0″ S, 5° 42′ 0″ W.”

Everyone turns to her, blinking. 

“Oh, great. She’s doxxing the island now!” Ass shouts. Julia shoves a finger to their face and approaches Mal cautiously, smiling widely. 

“Mal,”

“Hm?” the brunette asks, back on her phone. 

“Do you think your… um, geographical knowledge might actually help us?”

“Duh,” she scoffs. “But it’s not like anyone ever asked me!”

Julia grits her teeth and smiles wider. “Well, we didn’t know. Think you could help the team this time?”

Mal thinks for a moment, then shrugs. 

---

MAL: “What? I’m not stupid. I know a lot of things besides fandom and phones- I know where all the challenges are going to be, I know that Bonnie still keeps a picture of Caesar with them, I know Frollo is in the cargo hold-” she sighs. “You know, fandom bloggers really are the most oppressed people in society. I-”

The camera goes static. 

---

Chris stands before the three remaining teams as they organize themselves across from each other on a grassy field. The host himself is on the phone, grumbling to himself. 

“Yes, well, the hot tub was necessary, so- hello? HELLO?” he sighs, tossing the phone behind him. It hits an intern in the head and they collapse. The teams look between each other awkwardly. 

“Looks like we’re on our own. Luckily, due to a quick wiki search- we can stay on theme! Welcome to St. Helena- island in the middle of nowhere. Best known for being Napoleon’s final resting place after he was exiled here way-back-when. Since we were originally going to Waterloo, we can just do the same challenge here. You kids will be recreating the historic battle that sealed Bonaparte’s fate. Team Friendship-”

The aforementioned look up. 

“You’ll be playing the part of the French army. AKA, the LOSERS!” he chuckles. “Team Yaoi, you’ll be the Prussians, and Team Mojo, you’re the British.”

The respective teams watch as Chef begins rolling out cannons. Courtney raises an eyebrow. “What exactly is our angle here?”

“Um… don’t get blown to smithereens by a cannon?” Chris chuckles. “I was kinda just hoping you guys would get your hands on weaponry and go crazy.”

“You’re letting us have real weapons?” Phillip asks, eyes widening. He grins maliciously. 

---

PHILLIP: “I believe I’m destined to kill a man. Basically it’s like, my destiny and stuff, and this show seems like my best shot. Whoever I attack should thank me- dying in combat is the highest honor a man can achieve!”

---

“Historically accurate weapons... mostly!” Chris corrects. “Last team standing wins, yadda yadda… hey Chef, we still have that inflatable pool, right?”

Chef nods. 

“Sweet! See you all in a few,”

Staci sighs as she watches the two walk off. Turning back to the team, she crosses their arms. “We need a plan,”

“You think?” Bonnie asks, staring at the ginormous canon. 

“I do, in fact!” she beams. The goth rolls their eyes. “Now, I’ve read about this before… it’s been a while, but I think I remember enough to have us not obliterated instantly. First, we’ll need a stand-in Napoleon,”

Phillip’s hand shoots up. “Ooh, me! Pick me!” he then coughs and artificially lowers his voice. “I mean… or whatever.”

Staci paces back and forth. “It’s gotta be someone smart…”

Phillip trails behind them, casually whistling. 

“Competent. Organized!”

He clears his throat and begins casually leafing through his journal, mumbling his poetry under his breath. 

She looks between the group. “How about… Max?”

“WHAT?” Phillip and Max chime in unison. 

Bonnie raises an eyebrow. “You know… I could see it,”

“It’s because of my height, isn’t it?” he lowers his eyes. They shrug. 

Staci interjects. “No, no! You’re… I mean, you’re a natural leader! You’re smart! And romantic!”

Phillip seizes. “What? Napoleon wasn’t a romantic, he was like, a military guy!”

“But he was really into romance novels,” Staci says. “I used to be muts with someone who kinned him, but then there was a bunch of callouts for people who kinned real life people, so I had to softblock them and they sent a death threat to my workplace. But it’s all good now. Anyway…”

---

PHILLIP: “I am a lot of things, but I am NOT a romantic! I mean, I’m a chick magnet, sure, but I don’t let the ladies lead me astray. It wouldn’t be very sigma of me. I’m fine with being second in command, then,”

---

“All in favor of Max?”

“Wait!” he snaps. 

Everyone raises their hands and Max sighs, defeated. 

---

Julia watches the teams divulge and turns back to hers. “Alright. Game plan, anyone?”

“Don’t get blown up,” Ass comments dryly. They are ignored. 

“Mal? Anything?” the blonde asks. 

She shrugs. “Eh, whatever you guys think. I’m busy- #saveourshow is trending on Twitter, and-”

Julia nabs the phone out of her hands and holds it above her head. Mal pouts. “FINE! We should like… hm…” the brunette scans the field. “I guess we should attack Team Mojo first. We outnumber them, and they really only have the one decent player. Everyone’s been calling them “Team Losers- and Michela” on Tumblr, and it-”

“I am down for that!” Julia interrupts, tossing Mal back her phone like it’s a dog treat. “Team Mojo it is. Courtney, Ass, defend our ground. Mal and I have this covered.”

Courtney and Ass both raise a cautious eyebrow and turn to each other slightly. 

---

COURTNEY: “Is it just me, or are those two getting awfully chummy lately?”

ASS: “Definitely not just you. Something’s up- I smell an alliance,”

---

Patrick plays with the cannon while Michela and Albert try to discuss their angle. He chuckles as he loads the barrel full of heavy projectiles and aims it at Team Friendship. 

“Okay, if we just focus on defense, maybe we can scrape by,” Michela ponders, pacing back and forth. “But we only have the one cannon, and we’re surely going to be everyone’s first target…”

“Maybe we should offer them the princess as a sacrifice,” Albert mutters, gesturing back to Patrick as he lights the fuse. “I’m sure Team Yaoi would ignore us altogether if we let them chew on him for a while.”

“What’s that supposed to mean, cupcake?” Patrick snaps, glaring. 

“You can’t be serious- Julia’s been trying to get you eliminated for days now,” Albert says, waving at Team Yaoi. “And it looks like your odds aren’t good today.”

He scoffs. “As if I’d let some girl-” 

A sudden cannonball flies through the air, whacking Patrick in the back and sending him flying forward with a long shriek. Julia cheers from afar. Michela massages her temples. 

---

Phillip scans the teams, looking between them for weaknesses. 

---

PHILLIP: “Trying to choose a target is pretty hard. Team Yaoi is pretty scary… I mean, lame! I wouldn’t wanna waste my ammo on them,”

---

Staci and Bonnie shove the cannon around, aiming it at Team Yaoi. “Ready?” Max yells. “Fire!”

Kelly lights the fuse and the team ducks, covering their ears, waiting for… nothing. The flame disappears in the breeze, leaving their cannon unfired. 

“Okay, let’s try this again,” Max sighs, lighting another match. “Ready? Fire!”

Again, the breeze blows it away. He grumbles to himself. 

“Maybe we should aim in a different direction,” Staci says. “Team Mojo-”

“Out of the question,” Max snaps.

Bonnie sighs. “You and your moral high ground with that girl. Listen, if we aim for Albert…”

After a long, drawn out silence, he relents. “Fine. But be careful!”

Just as Patrick peels himself off the ground, another cannonball- this time from Team Friendship- hits him in the gut. Max shouts “Damn it!” from afar. 

Albert smirks as he lights the cannon and fires in Team Yaoi’s general direction. “Duck!” Ass shouts, pulling Courtney to the grass as the ball flies overhead. 

The two wait for it to pass, but just as Courtney begins to stand, Ass pulls them back down. “We should talk,”

“About?”

Ass nods in Julia and Mal’s direction as they load the cannon for another shot at Patrick. 

“If they team, one of us is next. And if Mal makes it further in this game than me, I’ll kill myself,” Ass snaps. “As much as I hate to say it, if we wanna stay, we’re going to have to work together.”

Courtney thinks for a moment, and then grins. “Anything to take her down,”

The two shake hands with equally big smiles and then rise just as Julia fires another cannonball at Patrick, nailing him in the back of his knees. He shrieks again and she laughs. 

A shot from Team Friendship flies past them, narrowly missing Mal’s head as she taps on her phone, ignoring the commotion around her. She doesn’t even flinch. 

“Man, that chick is crazy,” Julia grumbles, loading the cannon for another round. 

“Patrick, GET UP!” Michela shouts. “This isn't the time for napping!”

Patrick, face-down in the grass, groans to himself. It takes a few seconds for him to peel his body off the ground, spitting out a mouthful of dirt as his bruised and battered form limps back to the team. 

“Call me crazy, but… I think Julia might be mad at me,” he says to Albert. The latter rolls his eyes. 

“Well, you’d better patch things up, cause we’re getting wailed on over here,” Michela snaps as another shot from Team Friendship narrowly misses Albert. A faint dinging catches their attention and the team grumbles.

Patrick sighs. “I miss the way, Julie said hello- by punching me, in the stomach,” 

“I miss the nights, when she didn’t pick up the phone,” he continues.

“Oh, oh,” Michela and Albert chime in as another cannonball flies overhead.

“Cause other times, she’d wreak havoc”

Patrick places a hand over his heart and gestures towards Team Yaoi. Julie watches him, mortified, while the rest of the team looks between each other awkwardly from behind her. 

“Oh, Julie, oh Julie, I, I miss you so… Oh my Julie, my violent Julie, why’d I ever let you go?”

“I dumped YOU!”

“I miss her smile, and the tables that she threw- at me, when she was moody-”

“Your fault!”

“Oh, I miss the way, we’d never seem to agree,”

“Oh, oh,”

“Cause arguing, always brought out her beauty,” he continues, ducking another round of shots from Team Yaoi. “Oh, Julie, oh, Julie, I, I miss you so… Oh, my Julie, my scary Julie, why’d I ever let you go? Why’d I ever let you go?”

“I’m going to kill him,” Julia says. “Okay, number one goal- Team Mojo has GOT to go!”

Ass ducks a cannonball from Team Friendship. “No offense, but we’re kinda getting pummeled out here- Team Losers is the least of our concern!”

“Team Losers and Michela,” Mal says, matter-of-factly. Ass grits their teeth. 

“They have a zero-sum chance of winning. This is the smartest move. I need him GONE!”

Courtney and Ass make nervous eye contact, but relent. 

---

Phillip watches as Team Friendship misses another shot at Team Mojo. 

“They move too fast,” Bonnie huffs, wiping the sweat off their forehead as they move the cannon back around to Team Yaoi. “We’re never gonna hit anyone at this rate.”

“Hey, it’s not so bad! We got Patrick a few times!” Kelly smiles, putting a hand on their shoulder. 

“...Which makes no difference at all, since he has the relevance of a sack of potatoes,” Max snaps. “Let’s just focus on Team Yaoi- they’re not even looking at us now.”

Phillip nods, pulling out his notebook to scribble something down. 

---

PHILLIP: “You know, I’m actually glad I didn’t get to be Napoleon. Now I can observe the teams and mark my target!"

---

“Faster! We need more ammo!” Julia shouts, commanding her troops in a fitting military fashion. “Hurry up!”

“We’re trying!” Ass snaps, then turns to Mal as she ignores the challenge altogether. “Maybe if SOMEONE was helping, we’d be going faster!”

“Mal has already helped enough. You two, on the other hand, could stand to pick up some slack!”

Ass and Courtney make eye contact, but turn back just in time to see a cannonball flying at them. “DUCK!”

The three drop to the ground and cover their heads as the projectile lands behind them with a thud. Mal remains none the wiser. 

“Damn! Missed again!” Bonnie huffs. “This thing is killing me!”

Phillip chuckles maliciously. “Not yet…”

They glare at him and he sighs and walks away.

“Don’t be so hard on yourself,” Kelly puts a hand on their shoulder. “At the very least, none of our team has been hurt yet!”

---

PHILLIP: “Perhaps I’ve been looking in the wrong directions… maybe my true target has been here all along- the weak must perish!” he chuckles to himself and then screams at a spider in the booth.

---

“You’re not loading the cannon fast enough,” Max says. “Or moving it, or… anything. We need to be faster!”

“We’re going as fast as we can!” Staci insists. 

The team bursts into shouting, bickering and pointing fingers at each other. As they’re distracted, Phillip puts his full weight into turning the cannon around and facing it in Kelly’s direction as they try to mediate. 

“Here we go…” he grins, lighting the fuse. 

“And if YOU hadn’t been yelling, maybe we could’ve focused and gone faster!” Staci shouts, jabbing a finger in Max’s face. He swats their hand away and the two begin slap-fighting. 

Kelly gasps and rushes in to pull them apart, moving out of aim just in time- the cannon fires, sending a ball straight past Team Friendship, and right into Team Mojo’s barrel. 

“That’s not good,” Michela says, seconds before ducking as their cannon explodes. 

Team Friendship stops shouting and turns to the commotion, then to Phillip. 

“Holy…” Bonnie mumbles. “That’ll do it.”

---

As Julia, Ass, and Courtney take their hands off their ears and rise from the ground, they stare in bewilderment at the shredded remains of Mojo’s cannon. 

“So… now what?” Courtney asks. 

Before Julia can respond, however, a rain of cannonballs from Team Friendship showers them. The teens drop to the ground and cover themselves, bracing for the worst, but the balls simply bounce off them. 

Ass stares at one of the cannonballs, then lightly kicks it. It rolls away. “Huh. Imagine that,”

“They’re FOAM?” Phillip shouts in bewilderment from across the field. 

Chris walks back onto the field, holding a coconut drink with a tiny ornamental umbrella in it. He takes a long sip. “You guys done yet?”

“They’ve been foam this WHOLE TIME?” Bonnie shouts. 

“Uh, duh! Can you imagine the lawsuits?” the host scoffs. “The canons are real, though- and they pack a real punch!”

“But- what about Patrick?” Michela asks, pointing to her bruised and battered teammate. 

Chris shrugs. “Soft skin? Anyway… looks like Team Friendship has the most players standing, meaning they win the challenge!”

“What? None of us even got hurt!” Ass snaps. They are ignored. 

“And looks like Team Mojo took the hardest hit, soooo… see you guys tonight!” he chuckles, walking off. 

Michela and Albert look down at Patrick while Julia cheers and does a little dance around Mal. "Gooooooodbye, Patrick!" she hollers.

---

JULIA: "Finally- with that twit gone, I can focus on the game! Maybe having Mal around isn't so bad after all..."

---

“Did everyone have fun today? Yes? No?” Chris asks, looking between the three. Michela rolls her eyes. Albert turns a page in his book. “Anyway- it’s anyone’s game today! Three players left, who will lose, who will lose? It’s-”

“Just kick him off already!” Michela snaps. 

Chris huffs. “Geez, FINE! Patrick, you’ve been eliminated. See ya on the flip side, pal!”

Patrick whines and gets up, holding an ice pack to his head. He takes the parachute and jumps from the plane, landing face-first in the sand below. 

“You know, I usually hate out ground landings, but that one’s okay by me,” Chris says, peering out the door. “Who will be battered next time? Will we ever get off this island? Find out here, on Total Takes: World Tour!”

[joyfullyacat]

Mistakes and Miscommunication

haha woops happy belated valentines day (this got really wrong and its now officially the longest oneshot i've ever done!) legally beta'd, i think the formatting is alright? anyway, lots of stuff explored so a touch experimental glitch and design i describe belongs to @sleepykas (ty for letting me write for him ;;;)

CW: mild violence, slightly suggestive notes, a touch of angst but it ends fluffy and stupid (silly references and jokes ahead) word count: 8.3k on this bad boy -

There’ll always be a part of you that is ready for danger, a sliver of haywire paranoia that never quite rests when you enter the field of law enforcement. That sliver will grow and hairline cracks will form at will at the slightest wrong interactions and it’s… Problematic.

But it keeps you safe. Somewhat.

The itchy feeling in the back of your head you’ve learned to ignore causes you to learn a lesson time and time again it feels like - that lesson being you should always trust your gut instinct when it tells you something is off about a situation. Even if the paranoia is bad - your gut proves to be good.

If you did listen to it, you’d probably be in far better shape than you were currently.

It was supposed to be a simple patrol, a call about “suspicious activity” which you get  dime-a-dozen of day in and day out. Usually it’s a distinct bias against neighbors or particular groups of people, things that get settled with placating words and-or your thinning patience.

The setting sun meant you had to work fast and maybe that was where you began to slip up. Wanting to make it in time to clock out as you had been around the city and on your feet since before it even rose to greet the windows of your high rise apartment.

A show you had been watching recently was releasing its finale tonight - you had lots to look forward to! You were gonna order pizza and pig out, it was gonna be a good night.

However, the location given by the tip-off wasn’t the standard neighborhood or busy shopping district which meant you were in distinctly unfamiliar territory. Instead, you were at a relatively desolate port. An extensive strip of land that had towering stacks of cargo containers that seemed to form an endless maze in an array of colors and graffiti markings. 

Not to mention warehouses.

You parked a small distance away from the buildings and crates, noting the overall lack of traffic over in this area - how quiet it seemed silent for the soft natural ambience of the ocean nearby. With the distant echoing hustle and bustle of the city, it’s not like anything would really be noticed going on here.

The lack of people busying about should have been your first clue that things were not quite what they seemed here but, then again, you weren’t wholly sure how this business worked in the first place. 

Your shoes crunch against gravel before clicking against cement, you strain your ears to pick up on anything out of the ordinary.

The shadows casted by your surroundings are steadily growing and street lights are popping up, you fetch your flashlight from your belt and click it on, casually swinging it this way and that.

A developing sense of unease makes your stomach feel heavy, but you persist.

You shouldn’t be here for too long, there’s no reason to be here any longer than you need to be, yet there’s an invisible force that draws you to one of the warehouses.

Muffled voices steadily become audible, they’re rising at one another in a clear shouting match.

You stop at the wall, a small distance from the large overhead warehouse door that’s not fully closed and light peeps out from under it. This could either be some off-load workers getting riled up or it’s something far more nefarious going on.

Another moment is taken to scan the surroundings and your flashlight catches onto something shiny.

A very expensive looking car with silver accents and too dark windows peeks around the corner opposite from your own.

In another moment, in your peripheral, something gleams in the dying moments of sunlight in an elevated position. A keen whine forms in your ears as it feels like time slows in your fear.

Suddenly, you’re dropping to the ground and practically scuttle away, a bullet right where your head once was making a pretty, smoking hole with a startling clang as the metal is torn through like paper.

There’s a beat of silence, the arguing from inside coming to a halt.

Then the door starts to rise open and now you’re running to the crates, your car wouldn’t be safe, not with the sniper that’s thankfully a terrible shot and probably adjusting their sights with the early night darkness that’s settled.

With fumbling fingers in your adrenaline fueled fervor, you grasp at the radio clipped to your lapel, giving a hasty. “Send units, I’ve come across possible gang activity and have been, -” Shots ring out behind you and ding the crates that you round the corner of but you continue, in your pursuit of safety, you hear a confirmation buzz among the static of the radio.

You’re definitely outnumbered and now your only goal is to survive.

Maybe you should start to take a patrol partner no matter what, your usual wasn’t available - there was Glitch at the time but you were certain he hates you and you weren’t about to make a coworker suffer you.

Even if you think he looks quite nifty since his latest changes and would love to hear all about them. 

That was a matter for another time however.

Distantly you hear shouts of finding “the rat” and getting “the boss” out, there’s sharp clanging of chains and echoing barks of dogs and you internally cringe. Hoping they wouldn’t sic those on you.

“Bring them alive! I wanna know what dingbat has the balls to come here!” A hoarse voice barks out and his presumed underlings don't even have to give a word of acknowledgement, just immediately acting on the order as steps sound across the pavement.

“This night is turning out terrible.” You breathe out as softly as you can, trying to steel your nerves as you brace for what is to possibly come. The descending night air is soothing as a gentle breeze ghosts the nape of your neck, carrying the smell of the waters near.

Briefly, you consider praying to whatever god is watching this sudden turn of action movie-esque events that you wouldn’t end up in those waters against your will.

The weight of the pistol is distinct in your hands as you ready it, pulling back the slide until the familiar click rings out like a church bell, ringing for, ideally, not you.

You keep light on your feet as you weave around the cargo stacks, letting the aggressive stomps of your pursuers act as a muffle for your noises but it’s not long until you turn the corner and ram yourself right into someone’s back.

A note for next time, check around corners before taking them in a situation such as this.

They’re not a friend but neither you nor him have an opportunity to act as deafening too close shots ring out. An itchy trigger finger finally given reason to engage.

Bang!

The body you’re pressed up to jerks against you. 

Bang! Bang! 

In those next moments, you’re ramming the goon forward, shoving them into your shooter. Fruitlessly trying not to think of the terrible moral implications of the deed or the fact that they’re so desperate to get to you - that they’d kill their own to do so.

The situation suddenly becomes all the more real as you’re shooting over the shoulder of the fallen and splattering the crates around you in red before there’s two heavy thuds of bodies hitting the ground together.

At least they weren’t alone? That… Doesn’t make it better.

There’s a tremble that’s developed in your hands but you’re unsure if it’s from adrenaline or from fear. Have you ever done this before? No, the bits of blood that coat your hand and run down your face feels foreign and disgusting. 

Was this a you-or-them situation? You think so. Could you have simply disabled the shooter somehow? The two of them?

You don’t have much time to think that through as a flurry of racing feet begin to converge and get closer to your location, loud and steadfast, no doubt attracted to the rapidfire of shots and the only choice left is to run for it once again. Bob and weave through the environment, the location wasn’t that far from the station but traffic could hold support back from getting to you in a timely manner.

Granted, was anything timely when your life's on the line?

Distantly, you think you hear sirens. Maybe that’s just you being hopeful…

…Glitch was beside himself. Hands gripping tight on the wheel and making the leather creak as he sped along the road as legally as he could with his equally racing thoughts burning holes in his head in their loops. Every second felt like a minute and every minute felt like an hour and it all felt like you were rapidly running out of that very precious time.

You hadn’t updated the radio line since your initial call for help. 

The shots over the receiver set his inner workings on a frenzy, a distinctive rush of electricity that no doubt made his face appear unbecoming if the looks his coworkers gave him while heading out were any indication.

But it didn’t matter - none of it would if he - if they couldn’t get to you in time.

It was him with five other officers, three cars total, hopefully it’d be enough but if he had any say in the matter - he’d have taken more.

There was so much he would take and do for you and your safety and…

“Hey… Big guy?” His accompanying partner pipes up, snapping Glitch from his thoughts. Johnson was one of few coworkers that wasn’t naturally intimidated by his mannerisms, a somewhat grounding presence when ambitions went above capabilities. 

Except the animatronic wasn’t too sure if he could be leveled with at the moment. Just managing through his strain a deceptively polite hum of acknowledgement, head tilting towards the human in the passenger’s seat.

“...You’re bending the wheel.”

…

What? He’s what?

If he was capable of it, he would have started to break out in a cold sweat as yes, he was in fact contorting the steering wheel underneath his stress. The top half now held a noticeable curve inwards, towards himself that made his crushing grip clear.

Glitch made a vague sound, pretending to clear his throat as he relented his force almost entirely after that point. “I’m… Not quite sorry, but apologetic to worry you like that.”

All he gets in return is a disarming chuckle, “Not offended, if anything it’s cool, always wondered if those things could actually be damaged. They tend to survive wrecks outside of the air bags… Besides, I know why you’re worried. We’ll get to our fellow officer, it’s not much farther now.”

Not much farther now, that’s right.

It still feels like it’s been too long. 

Did you even have any more minutes to spare?...

…You’re not sure how much time has passed, it all feels like too long yet not long enough for what you’re waiting for. You’ve downed more goons than you’ve been struck and you’ll count every single one of your blessings if any are left after this.

But those sirens are feasible now, your pursuers have caught wind of them too.

You’re tucked in the midst of crates, trying your best to take in desperate heaves of air as quietly as you can. You were doing so well at surviving that you were cursing at how you pigeon-holed yourself now.

It felt like a rookie’s mistake.

There’s the repetitive clicking of a lighter before a deep, raspy woman’s voice sounds, “The fuckin’ leak got help, cops are closing in - what do we do?” A moment of silence, the individual breathing in a cigarette presumably before coughing some.

Well at least she wasn’t very fussed in finding you it seemed, a good sign.

“Seems we may have to cut losses ‘ere, we’ve lost quite a few as is - impressive but annoying.” The voice is cool, collected. Honeyed even, though it holds a drawl as if he watched just a few too many pirate cartoons and movies. This voice had been tailing you casually for a bit now, ever since the initial run in you had with some of his fellow gang members and left them in a heap in each other’s arms against your own volition. 

If him having a level head was supposed to be an intimidation tactic, well…

Consider yourself apprehensive, not a good sign. It seemed he always had a general idea where you were but didn’t want to clue the others in - maybe he liked the chase?

You didn’t like that thought remotely.

Distant shouts start up, orders being barked, there’s slams of car doors and people are clearly making their leave now. Your salvation must be real close, spotted on some not-so-distant horizon line.

“They’re calling a retreat, Tod.”

Todd?

You were being stalked by a guy named Todd?

“Mmm… So they are.” There’s a sigh that’s distinctly crackly, mechanical… This was an animatronic, “I’ll let y’go, I’ll be able to catch up - I wanna leave ‘em with a message.” His tone was firm, giving a resolute dark promise for your head to whoever they were prowling around with.

A choppy cackle breaks into a coughing fit, “Bring back a souvenir.” Another audible deep drag of a cigarette before pounding steps announced her leave.

A moment of silence.

A chuckle echoes out, warm and confident.“...Now s’just the two of us, lil’ pup.”

Oh that was a dubious nickname… You were unbelievably screwed if this Todd found you - but there was no moving from where you were, you couldn’t figure out how close the mafia member was. 

The back-up was so close now, you could practically see the flashing lights bounce around and reflect from various metal surroundings.

Screeeeech!

As well as soon smell the burning rubber of tires from vehicles stopping too harshly along the cement, car doors opening and shots echoing out across the way. Distinctly, there’s a loud crash that reverberates through the ground, someone knocked a vehicle into something it seemed.

“Hands up! You’ve no way to go!” A voice you vaguely recognize bellows out the familiar command. Help was right there…

They’d probably be occupied with stragglers for a bit.

You’re much too occupied with figuring out a way to run to your safe haven that you don’t realize the wandering steps of your would-be hunter had tapered off into very careful tip toes. How unbelievably quiet it had gotten in your immediate vicinity, the noise outside of this personal bubble that was your potential dead-end being an easy distraction.

A distraction that would be your downfall.

Click.

…Safety was just turned off. You look down.

It wasn’t your own, even if you had a gun in your hands aimed at your only way out as means of protection.

So you look over and up, craning your head back.

The towering figure above you has a gun aimed at your forehead. No doubt, he’d be quicker on the draw as he didn’t exactly have vitals for you to maim like his far fleshier counterparts.

The animatronic’s grin is outright predatory as he looks down at you, “There you are…” He all but purrs out, golden fang glinting in the low light of your surroundings. Piercing orange eyes practically sparkle at his discovery of you.

It’s then you realize that this was a fox.

Who’s name was not Todd but in fact Tod.

A male-presenting fox animatronic. Named Tod.

How wonderful.

You’d laugh if you weren’t staring death in the face at this point in time.

“Wonder who tipped y’off our way, did y’never consider it being a trap? Your sorts never wander around these parts.” Tod speaks casually, almost flippantly as he leans forward, pressing the barrel of his pistol to your temple with a little pressing nudge that had your hands going clammy. “You’ve cost us so much, it almost seems fitting we should return the favor to those friends y’called.”

Buy time.

You had to buy time - more time. How much debt were you in right now?

“Is your name actually Tod?” You blurt out without thinking, looking up at him with a wide-eyed blink.

Tod looks just as perplexed as you feel, the hold on his weapon falling slack just a bit. 

You could probably survive a shot to the jaw, right?

Belatedly, you recognize he has an eyepatch flipped-up at this moment, he really was a pirate wanna-be. “...I guess if the question is so burning…” He begins, unsure and still bewildered at your outburst, “It’s not Tod - I hold the name Foxy. We jus’ have aliases.”

“...Foxy the fox automaton.” You relay after a beat, helpless against the dopey grin that forms at the ridiculousness and very on-the-nose nature of his name.

This was even better than Tod and if you didn’t know any better, you’d outright giggle but you know just enough to just settle for your smile instead.

…Okay, a snort broke out. Ugly and undignified but could you be blamed?

Foxy just looks at you, positively floored at your sheer audacity… Or maybe it was your blatant stupidity - considering the current situation you were in with him. However you were frazzled, tired if you were honest. You were stained with blood that, while you sure wasn’t your own, couldn’t be too sure. You definitely had bruises if nothing else.

So you were going to find your entertainment where you could.

A few moments of silence pass.

Are those steps heading your way?

You’re not exactly sure what you or him are waiting for as the once tense air where your life was in peril subsides into something far more awkward.

It reminds you just a little too much of interactions you have with a certain other animatronic who works with you.

Finally, with an ear twitching in acknowledgement to outside noises, Foxy decides to cut through the silence with a sharp huff of amusement. “You’re something else y’know tha -” His words are suddenly cut off by a black blur moving past your hidey-hole and barreling into your captor. The gun held against you clatters to the ground, Foxy’s voice box breaks into something of an animalistic screech of static before an all out brawl starts between the two of them.

You stay right where you are. Getting in the middle of that is a good way to find yourself pummeled… 

…Glitch found you.

He finally found you.

He found you facing down the muzzle of a gun with a deer in the headlights look that you shared with your potential killer. He was already high-strung before.

It was safe to say that he saw red then and it wasn’t just the fur of the animatronic that he tore away from the fox at the base, exposing the endoskeleton and wires alike without care.

When the squad arrived, the criminals were scattering, getting into cars and tailing it out of there or trying to get away on foot. More enforcements were called in, cars were already noted and license plates were spread, the city wouldn’t be quiet tonight and probably not for some nights after.

Especially with the amount of members they were able to apprehend. Many new database entries would be added. New mugshots to be made fun of. The precinct would finally have things to do after what seemed like too long of crickets.

That wasn’t even going over the amount of members you had single-handedly felled. Even if every body he came across filled him with trepidation - there was unbelievable relief when they were turned over and it wasn’t your face. There was a growing sense of pride too.

Who knows how many operations you had interrupted with your actions this night.

It did unmentionable things for him that he’d have to unpack later but for now, all there was to focus on was you and you alone.

He - … They… No. He was so close to losing you just then and he would have been just… Seconds off the mark. Just mere seconds, a blink of the eye really. 

A moment of hesitation or if something else caught his attention, what could have happened to you?

…Very possibly, it’d be you in a bag with half a dozen others and that was a thought he couldn’t bear.

Even more shudder-inducing was the potential of you being captured and used.

All his worries, his frustrations - both with you and with himself, were unleashed in this one moment.

Metal groaned in protest as he forced limbs to snap and contort outside of their range, joints becoming useless at multiple points. Glitch was deaf to the cries of his fellow automaton - but he didn’t kill the bot. 

That’d be too good for them.

There was a final, keen creak of the fox’s arm before it came clean off with a shower of sparks, the very arm responsible for aiming a gun at you and it seemed his system forcibly shut down now to hide from further trauma as the beast-like animatronic fell slack beneath him. 

A pitiful play dead response.

“...Is he dead?” He hears you speak out brittley once it had all gone quiet, Glitch peers over his shoulder to look at you peeking over a crate and looking back at him with doe eyes.

You’d be cute if you weren’t painted with blood… But at least your vitals read normal.

This night was gonna haunt him for a bit it felt like. Rather - you’d be haunting him for a bit. That's more accurate.

“No, no he isn’t… Just out of commission. They’ll patch him up for interrogation.” He answers unsteadily, there’s definitely a drive - a wish to finish the job but he’s done enough damage and they need to find out all they could about what was transpiring here.

So he merely radios-in the stray before peeling himself from the fallen and heading over to you…

…You look up at the new too-tall figure, this time a friend that you finally recognized as your coworker, Glitch. 

Were all animatronics just built to be large? You didn’t think you were particularly short but you were beginning to see a pattern here. Though you were also on the ground currently.

He’s scratched up from his scrap and holds tears in his nice suit. Honestly it seems like he got more hurt than you did, if damages to his surface coloring counted.

“...Can you stand?” He asks after he lowers himself to a squat in front of you, probably trying to gauge your current state of being at a closer level… Or maybe he just didn’t wanna overwhelm you.

You were ready to be out of this terrible resting spot.

“I… Think I can?”

Though, at this moment, you’re not sure where to even start. You wanna put your gun away, you want to wipe your sweaty palms on your pants despite it being uncouth, you also still wanna get up and walk out and get back in your car and go home and -!

Hands carefully go over your own, plucking you from your adrenaline fueled spiraling thoughts. He navigates your fingers deftly with his own, nudging them to get the safety on and to unload the bullet in the chamber. Little clicks and rings being a very nice change of pace from all the chaotic noises you were surrounded by before.

Which, you realize morosely, that bit of ammo was your last one.

You truly were standing on your last leg just then.

The gun is guided back to its holster, Glitch leaning in and making you focus on nothing but him and all that was him in this moment. A hand settles at your hip and for a moment, you’re looking into eachothers eyes.

You don’t decipher the emotions dancing within them - you can barely figure out your own currently.

In a flash of bravery, you ask, “Could I bother you to pick me up?”

Golden eyes widen some - well, his left eye widens as much as it can. “...You could bother me for anything.” He replies with seeming breathiness without missing a beat this time, almost as if he was relieved you were back to your shenanigans with that request.

The hand at your hip suddenly grips you firm and is matched with another hand on the other side before you’re picked up like you weigh no more than a couple of grapes. You only have time to gasp as you’re not held like a ballerina waiting to be held overhead for long, instead carefully maneuvered to be in a bridal carry and held protectively to him.

This is the closest you’ve been to the bot and frankly, you’re unsure what to do with yourself.

Your hands seem to dance between wanting to rest against him on his chest - or resting against yourself in an awkward cradle to your own chest. A need to comfort your savior but also not wanting to overstep whatever was sat between you and him.

“...You’re tense.” You note after a small while, you hadn’t realized how far you went into the maze of crates in your digs for survival.

Glitch hums above you, “I am also made of metal, there’s not much of me that isn’t rigid.” His words are teasing but his tone doesn’t quite match up, it’s distant. Not all there. His thoughts have his attention more than you do.

“You know what I mean…” 

“I’m sure I do.” Without further word, he paws at something along your belt line and you squawk at the sudden prodding.

“What are you-!”

The familiar jingle of keys to your patrol car sounds and is tossed recklessly to another officer on the scene. 

Your hands finally know what to do with themselves then and that’s flail, all outstretched in front of you in a pathetic attempt to take your keys back, “I need those!”

The animatronic holding you pointedly ignores you, as do the rest of your fellow officers, too busy snickering and likely spreading gossip for the image Glitch and you offered them tonight.

“Take the patrol car left over on the gravel, officer…” The animatronic announces your name before holding you up like some prize and you feel your face burn in embarrassment at some of the snickers that ensue afterwards. “Here is unfit to drive in this current state.”

There are cheers at your safe recovery but of course the statement draws some concern.

The coworker who has your keys, Johnson, you think it is. Someone who commonly teams up with Glitch only gives a curt nod before gesturing to you. “Do they need medical attention?”

“I don’t think so. Not emergency at least.”

You squirm, “Do I get a say in this?”

“Not currently.” Replies Glitch without so much as a second thought. It’s amusing how adjusted the others seem to his antics.

Your current escort splits from the rest of the team present after that, you wanna laugh and coo at how he tries his absolute damndest to keep you in his arms. Like a toddler unwilling to let go of their favorite soft toy or blanket that needs to be washed. Going as far as leaning a bit too far forward at his height, just to be able to open the door before putting you in the front seat without so much as an inquiry to your state of being. 

There’s a part of you that wonders how much of this is for you and how much of it is for him.

You’ve just gotten your seatbelt clicked into place by the time he gets into his seat and it’s not long after that where the two of you are off, the soothing hum of being on the road allowing you to fully relax now.

“...Has that always been screwy?” You gesture to the bent wheel a few minutes into your return to the station with him.

“...Not quite.” He admits after a moment of hesitation, “I, ah… Got worried on the way here. Everyone heard the shots over the radio.”

Oh.

“Is that why you’ve been so…?” You gesture vaguely to him and barely spot the way his gaze flicks to you before going back to the road that stretches ahead.

Eyelights flick to you, “So-? I lied when I said I was able to get what you mean.” This time there was an actual teasing lilt to his words, a little curl to his teeth in a clear smarmy grin that has you huffing.

“...Touchy? Protective? …Comforting?” The last word is said with a moment’s worth of hesitation, unsure if that was quite the word to use. “...Maybe reassuring is the better word all together there.”

“Comforting?”

Before you can even note the small way he echoed one of your words - if you had blinked in that moment, you would have missed it. The screen of his face, for lack of a better word, glitched much like his namesake. Turning into a reflective black void of nothingness for a moment before flickering back on and being loudly silent.

Yeah. He had a way of making silence audible. Where no words needed to be said.

Impressive and intimidating. Just a touch annoying.

Then, like nothing happened at all, he bobs his head in a half nod. “So I have - is this… A problem?” He notes, clearly toeing the topic line of boundaries without outright asking.

With a snort, you’re unable to stop yourself from pointing out the obvious interaction you just had with him, “...I let you carry me, didn’t I?”

“So you did.” He confirms.

“And it was nice…” You say, genuine, but also as a test as you keep a close eye for his reaction.

Glitch doesn’t disappoint as he noticeably grips the wheel with a strength you’d know would crush your hand without so much as a batted eye, yet funnily enough he actually manages to straighten out some of the contortion he subjected it to earlier. Pushing it back into place a fair deal.

His strength was known around the station but still… Poor steering wheel.

It’s not long after that when you finally arrive with him at the station, tumbling out the car as soon as he’s parked safely and stretching obnoxiously with your hands over your head, a number of your joints popping with satisfaction… as well as pulling at some strains you gained over your terrible adventure.

Glitch snickers from the otherside of the car at your theatrics and you look back at him and his tattered state.

With a grin, you ask. “Could I bother you for something again?”

“You can bother me for anything.” He responds much like he did before, this time more like a quip and far more impish with a for-show roll of his eyes to boot.

You turn towards him, throwing your arms over the roof of the car and stretching your hands out for him to take with, what you hoped was taken as, an inviting wiggle of the fingers. “Let me help patch you up? You kinda got all… Scratched saving me, thank you by the way - I can’t say that enough, I can’t remember if I did or not already, but thank you.”

He meets you with a stare you can’t quite place. It’s heavy and questioning, unsure but accepting, like you’ve given him something he thinks is too good to be true yet wants so badly to trust in it.

“...Can I help get the blood off of you first.”

“Oh. Yeah, I should probably get myself cleaned up before handling anything…” You note the patches of dried red on your sleeves with a whine in the back of your throat. “It’s gonna be a pain getting all this cleaned up.”

The animatronic finally takes your hands into his own - only to push you off the car with his reach that surpasses yours. “Don’t you have spare clothes?”

“I did in the patrol car that was left in someone else’s care…” You sulk, looking at him beneath your lashes in a momentary pout as you're pushed away, “I typically keep them with me.”

You miss the way he falters at your look towards him, too busy being full of loathing at the days of cleaning and soaks for your apparel, maybe you’d have to pay extra this month for dry cleaning.

“...borrow one of mine?” Is all you catch as you’re brought back to the present when he’s standing in front of you, hand on hip and head tilted to the side some.

So, in all of your brilliance, you offer in reply a dumb, “What?”

He clears his throat despite the lack of need. “Would you… Like…” Glitch holds a hand over his mouth for a moment, looking away as if your distracted attention was the only reason he prompted this to begin with. “Would you like to borrow one of mine?” He finally gets out, looking at you briefly only to look to the side again and pretending to be far more occupied with the nearby road.

“...Borrow one of your shirts?”

“Yes.” 

Both you and him ignore how eagerly he replied to that inquiry.

“Sure.”

“Ah, it’s alri- wait what?” He shoots a look at you of shock, shoulders straightening with rigidity.

“I said sure, I’ll borrow one of your shirts. They’re probably nicer than mine anyway and you dress nice.” You point out casually, making a motion towards his nice leather belt.

“...Right. Yeah - thank you.” 

Both you and him also ignore how clearly flustered he was over the compliment and clear fact that he was, in fact, a dapper dresser.

With a toss of your chin, you gesture to the station. “Should we head inside now?”

“We should, yeah…”

He doesn’t move. He’s just looking at you with rounded eyes.

Neither do you. You’re looking back at him with growing curiosity.

You wonder if you’ve had him pinned all wrong as you take the initiative to move, the animatronic moving wordlessly and seamlessly out of your way to follow obediently in step with you. It was… Odd to see, coming from him.

Glitch opens the door for you and the moment you step a foot into the station, there is a sense of disappointment when nothing occurs, you’re not sure what you were expecting but at least some fanfare? A check-up?

It’s unbelievably quiet, you’re not even sure if anyone is available. Someone could be having a meeting or maybe there was an interrogation in progress but still.

At least the front desk worker pays you mind with a nod and a smile.

“Think most of them are now busy with catching runaways and the like…” The animatronic chimes in suddenly as if sensing your drop, just guiding you along with a hand by the small of your back to his office. “Cabinet in the back left corner, bottom drawer should have shirts.”

You look over and up at him, “Do you have spare everything?”

“It pays to be prepared.” Is all he says as he peers down at you with mischief before letting you into his office and nudging you inside, following through and closing the door behind himself.

It’s not that you didn’t realize, it’s just that you didn’t care as you begin to unbutton your top after removing it from its tuck, going from the bottom-up while taking yourself over to the cabinet.

And just as fast as you began to do that - the door abruptly opens and closes behind you, Glitch effectively showing himself out without a second word of input.

“...Sorry!” You half-heartedly bark over your shoulder, not knowing if things were soundproofed but you might as well be courteous as you shrug off one shirt and tug on a new one.

Of course, it’s large on you. You have to tastefully tuck it in where it’ll count and still have a fair amount of room left over, the sleeves also get rolled up to your elbows for sake of ease.

After a final tug to your collar to ensure everything is nice, you call to the closed door, “I’m decent now!” Your old shirt is in a haphazard ball in your hold and the automaton comes in with a plastic bag in hand that he passes to you shortly after.

He also holds a rag and a bottle of water which you look at, puzzled.

“For your face.” Glitch confirms, opening the bottle of water with one hand using his index and thumb. An act that enamours you far more than it should as the cap is dropped off on the desk, some of the water being poured into the hand towel before he begins to dab at your forehead and cheeks.

It’s not a long process but it’s an oddly pleasant one, just being fussed over like this. Occasionally he guides your head to move this way and that with his thumb at your chin.

You get to admire the subtle changes in his expressions. Especially when he finds an area he missed by your hairline and carefully brushes the locks away to get to it, you could practically see a tail wagging behind him in self-satisfaction.

If he notices your staring, he doesn’t comment on it.

By the end however, the sweetness is gone as he drives the cloth hard into your cheek as if getting a particularly stubborn spot before pulling away altogether. 

“You’re clear, you should properly make yourself squeaky clean later however.”

Poutily, you rub at your cheek with a withering, weak glare that has him chuckling but with the most pressing matter out of the way, one of them at least, you look around his office before looking back at him, “So how do we fix you up, hm?” 

“Well you can’t help with my clothes, for one.” He notes dryly, snickering at how you dramatically gasp in clear mock-offense.

“Why, I never! Just because I’m quick to dress myself down does not mean I don’t respect you enough to attempt to dress you down just as fast!” 

“But you wanna dress me down at all?” Glitch goads, peering down to you, evidently humored by your theatrics if the pleased glint in his eyes was any indicator.

Though at this rate, perhaps he should learn that you desperately need a filter as you reply without missing a beat, “I would actually love to see your model as a whole, yes.”

Silence.

His face did the thing again. Becoming blank and eerie just for a heartbeat before coming back to life in full force.

The stare he’s giving you now is… Intense, putting it kindly. “Are you joking?” 

“I’m not, plus you’re probably gonna have to remove your shirt anyway if nothing else because you’re covered in scratches. Do you have something for those? Anything?”

“...Top right drawer in my desk, little jar. There’s a brush in there too.” He moseys over to the chair at said desk, sitting himself down in it and beginning the process of getting his shirt off.

This feels oddly domestic as you fetch the items needed, looking at the name of the color with an obvious, obnoxious hum.

“What?”

You waggle the jar playfully from side to side at him, “Obsidian bulwark, really?” you jest before opening it up to reveal the glossy dark red, almost black paint within. 

“I can’t help what companies name their products.” His pout is so blatant it has you giggling.

“Mhm. Arms out now.” Glitch does as he’s told and so the long process of touching up all the imperfections commenced. Of course you couldn’t paint all of it, some of the metal was actually torn through, but you could at least make him presentable.

In that time, you spend a fair deal just… Admiring, that felt better to say than ogling, his make. The details of his chest, the two shiny gold buttons that stood out starkly compared to his dark body and you find them absolutely adorable. “I have to say this kinda feels like painting nails.”

“I suppose it’s not that different…” He’s been silent for the most part, just watching how each of his little marks are erased from sight, even ones you’re sure he didn’t get during his time at the harbor but instead sometime in the past that he just never saw. You’re thorough, minding the gradient on his forearm that goes from the almost-black of his body to a carnelian red towards his wrist. 

You lift his arms, you turn them this way and that, you get his palms and in-between his fingers.

When you get to his chest, there’s a desperate need to speak so you feel less like some handsy lecherous artist getting too personal with their latest muse.

“Glitch.” You begin, pulling the brush away for the possible outburst that could come from your new, seeming friend.

He looks at you quizzically, probably wondering why you’ve stopped his free pampering treatment of touch-ups. “Yes?”

“This is probably a bad time but I totally thought you hated me.” There’s an absolute one-eighty in his visible emotion, the unknown tension in the air dissipating in seconds when he levels you with a deadpan look that has you doubling over in laughter in record time. It was a good thing you pulled away as the little jar of paint clatters on his desk.

“You thought I hated you?” Glitch echoes your words with bewilderment, almost sounding offended by the sheer notion as he puts his hand to his chest, gesturing to himself. “Me? How?”

“Okay - hold on… I think - maybe this was a miscommunication.” You try to placate through your shoulder-shaking mirth, “But… You never - talked to me really. Not like this. We especially have never interacted like this.” 

That gets his attention. “We didn’t?”

“No, if I tried to talk to you - you’d get all like… Awkward and stiff? You’d act short with me. Kinda made it seem like you were looking for the soonest opportunity to stop talking with me.” 

Every example you begin to point out afterwards, his apparent inability to interact with you before, makes him visibly recoil more in on himself.

“I - Okay I… I get it.” Now he’s gesturing with his hands to have you stop, “I hope my actions today have shown you otherwise that I very much do not hate you.”

You nod, “Which is why I’ve been very confused for a better half of this whole time spent.”

“Suppose I should try to explain myself but…” He fidgets before ultimately going for the move to make himself comfortable, leaning forward with elbows on his knees. An act that is far too tempting considering his shirtless status. “Easiest way to put it, I could not figure out how to… Act around you, Wildfire.” 

“Wildfire?”

“Mhm. That is how I see you, a burning wildfire. Beautiful and necessary in nature, scary and destructive, going by its own whims or following the winds. You are capable of so much as showcased earlier with how you handled yourself, surrounded by enemies. You’re vibrant, brilliant,” He stops suddenly, slowly blinking at you before tilting his head quizzically, “Your heart rate is startlingly fast, are you alright?”

No. No you very much weren’t. There’s a heat behind your ears and you’ve never felt so flushed in your life before - save for when you were severely sick. Maybe he didn’t recognize it, the way his face steadily shifted the longer he spoke. Sickeningly sticky-sweet fondness and utter adoration in his eyes, his ever-sharp grin softening into a genuine smile.

All for you.

All for what he apparently saw you as.

He called you wildfire. Like you were his wildfire, to bask in its warmth and never fear its wrath.

When you don’t answer in a timely manner, he reaches out to gently brush your cheek with knuckles that hadn’t needed to be painted, the coolness of the metal surface bringing you back to the moment.

You try to get your thoughts in order with little success, “So… Earlier. When you said you were worried for me - so much so you bent the steering wheel…”

Glitch’s laugh is light and airy, a bit embarrassed at his actions being brought up again. “I was worried for you, yes. Not just as my coworker, my fellow law enforcement, but you as an individual, your person. I was worried that fire would be put out and I would be left cold for quite some time.”

This was the same man… Animatronic… Robot. Man. Who struggled to ask if you’d like to wear one of his shirts for a very clean and very honest reason.

You feel blindsided by this development.

“...When did this start?” That was probably the most burning question that needed an answer right now.

At least he has the decency to look thoughtful now, not giving you the “since we first met” spiel that you were expecting. You don’t think your heart would have been able to handle that. 

“Do you happen to remember the first times we were out on the road and so on together? When you first joined the force.”

Ah, your green days… You remember those well, you got one of your first and really one of your only major scars on duty back then. You’ve since learned your lesson of course but… Oh.

“You mean when I took on that madman with you?”

“Yes, when you took a wild stabbing for me - quite literally on that note. Despite your very fleshiness compared to my metal being.” He carefully prods your side where the scar sits, it was far nicer than what it used to be a few years ago. “You didn’t even look agonized over it - you smiled at me in reassurance despite you being the one injured. Most typically put me on the front lines for a reason.”

Damn it all. “...So basically when we first met?”

“It would seem so, yes.”

You deflate with a hiss through your teeth, hiding your face in your hands as you belatedly realize too late you still have the paint brush in your hand. Promptly smearing color across your forehead and into your hair. You could worry about that later. Maybe you’d just dye your hair with it.

You peer at him through a crack in your fingers. “...Are you also why we immediately stopped being paired together on duty no matter what after that?” You wanna cringe at the way you sound so pitched but your nerves are shot and you’re riding an unbelievable high despite how embarrassed you felt. 

To be so prized and valued? Right beneath your nose? For months? All because you wanted to respect a seeming unsung wish while he wanted to protect you?

This feels right out of a movie.

“Mhm, I couldn’t let you risk yourself for me in case of any more bad cases or calls. I know you are not fragile - but I am far more resistant to attacks than you are.” The corners of his eyes get sharper, that sweet smile he held turning back into the cheshire grin you know once again as he’s unbelievably smug about the reaction he’s pulling from you now.

It seems he finally understood why your heart was going a mile a minute.

“Are you satisfied over there?”

“Immensely.” He drawls. “Are you satisfied with your discoveries?”

You hum, “Two more questions?”

“Shoot.”

“Will the paint stain my skin?” You take your face away from your hands, noting the wet feeling across your forehead with a grimace as the brush falls away from you.

“Probably not, it should come off like any other paint. If it did stain, wearing clothes would be an issue for us.” 

Sound reasoning, that leaves you with your next question if he doesn’t pull the “but you already asked a question” thing which sounds right up his alley to do but… Well.

He’s looking at you patiently, kindly.

If a bit smugly.

“...What does this uh… Mean for us?” You point to yourself then to him, swapping it a few times before letting your hand fall limp at the wrist. 

Glitch reaches out to hold that hand in one of his own, the paint having now dried it seems, “I don’t believe it has to mean anything if you don’t want it to. I think we got over the obvious issues I… Seemed to have while interacting with you before.” His fingers find their place in-between yours, lacing the hands together seamlessly.

You can’t help it, the seemingly running joke between you and him now, “...Does it mean I get to bother you more often?”

He sighs and instead of giving you the reply that you expect by now, he draws your hand close and turns it towards him, pressing it to his teeth in a very clear note of affection.

“You will never and I do mean never be a bother to me. You will be yourself and I will admire you endlessly for it every time. Do not hold back on my account… Is this clear?”

The glare he gives you over your hand is plain as day. There’s some underlying threat there despite the tenderhearted words, that there’d be a consequence if you’d push yourself down again even jokingly.

You swallow thickly.

“Crystal… Crystal clear, Glitch.”

The animatronic pulls you in suddenly, pressing his face to your cheek in another kiss.

“Good. You look nice in my shirt by the way.”

“...It’s made out of boyfriend material so I’d hope it looks good.”

You’re unprepared for how he bonks his head to yours in admonishment.

Worth it.

[hermannsthumb]

Hello! For the summer prompts, if you feel the inspiration, I'd love to see "sunburn" and "mosquito" combined please! 💜

2. Sunburn + 29. Mosquitos

from summer prompt memes here

i'm at the beach for a little bit, so i am in a beachy mood and wanted to send these guys off to one too!! been so busy with zine stuff that I haven't had time to write a silly fic in a while, so here's a short one :-)

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

“This is fun, isn’t it?” Newt says.

Hermann, swathed under a large sunhat and a loose terrycloth button-down, peers out at the ocean with an expression that Newt might call, generously, vague skepticism, and ungenerously outright distaste. But the crease in his brow smooths out as he turns his attention towards Newt, and he quirks up the corner of his mouth. Not exactly a smile from anyone but Hermann. “Er, yes,” he says. “It’s very—hot. But lovely,” he adds quickly. “Very—hot, and lovely.”

Newt hasn’t been to the beach—for non-work related reasons, which is to say a beach that isn’t crawling in, like, enough xenobiological radiation to kill him under ten minutes without the proper PPE—in what must be almost fifteen years at this point, back since the days when he used to crouch for hours over tide pools and scribble barely-legible notes in a composition book before he had to hustle back off to campus for class. Baby’s first field journal. The Pacific coasts are still very much a gamble for a fun day out, but they’re chilling outside DC for the week while they’re traded between nearby universities and fancy banquet halls to get their hands shaken and backs patted or whatever, and by God (Newt decided) he was going to take Hermann on a good, proper beach date if it killed him. Metaphorically. Hopefully not actually with kaiju blue poisoning, because that would suck.

Whether through the lingering effects of their drift or Hermann just being fluent in Newtonian mannerisms at this point, he picked up on Newt’s ulterior motives for insisting on getting a jeep from the car rental place pretty much immediately. He was at least surprisingly chill about it all: all he did was tell Newt, calmly, that he’ll need to stop off at a department store for the proper attire, and that Newt might want to consider a motel room as well so they don’t have to spend seven hours on the road in one day, both of which were pretty reasonable requests. Newt was just planning on swimming in boxers. Not like anyone but Hermann would be able to tell the difference.

They hit miserable traffic on the world’s most terrifying bridge while the A/C sputtered tragically at them (Newt is so asking for a partial refund, it’s July man, come on), and Hermann stared out the window at the ocean a long drop below without making a peep while Newt tried to awkwardly fill the silence with anything that came to his head. Mostly about how much fun they were going to have. They shelled out ten bucks for parking at the public access beach and even more money to rent a tattered umbrella, and the beach was just enough on the wrong side of practically empty that it set both of them on edge (though Newt could tell Hermann was trying to hide it). People are still a little wary of setting foot within fifteen miles of an ocean.

It's romantic, Newt told Hermann, and he tried to rub sunblock on his shoulders sensually, but accidentally jabbed his thumb in the wrong way and made Hermann full-body recoil away from him. I can handle that, he told Newt tersely, but he gave Newt a small thank-you kiss anyway as he wrestled the bottle away from him. The umbrella doesn’t work—too many metal prongs broken with age or over-use. Newt wonders if they dug it out of the bottom of the pile or something. Not wanting to risk getting impaled by a spoke, they ended up closing it and just hoping the sunblock does the job right.

“You’re hot and lovely,” Newt tries, lamely.

Hermann doesn’t acknowledge Newt’s half-assed flirting beyond a small sigh. Newt can’t blame him. Hermann lifts the brim of his hat, peering at a fly that’s just landed on Newt’s calf, and Newt winces a second later when it bites him. "Fuck," he says, and slaps at it. It buzzes away angrily to Hermann’s ankle, presumably to bite him too, so Newt leans forward to valiantly shoo it again. Hermann looks down at him in mingled annoyance and fondness. “Biting flies,” Newt sighs. “Forgot about these bastards.” Benefits of living in various UN-sanctioned basements for ten-odd years, weird bugs that like to cause you bodily harm are a rare occurrence.

“Newton, ah,” Hermann says, adjusting the brim of the hat against a sudden gust of slightly fishy sea-breeze, “how long did you want to stay out here? On the beach, I mean?”

“As long as you want, dude,” Newt says. It’s date-day, and when they drive back they’ll be consumed by their lectures and suits and making good impressions again, so he wants to enjoy himself for as long as possible. More specifically he wants Hermann to enjoy himself for as long as possible. Then again—he’s hot and a little on the sting-y side of tanned, and he’s pretty sure he just saw a mosquito settling on Hermann’s shoulder. “Why, did you want to leave?”

He sounds pathetically hopeful and immediately feels guilty about it. He hyped this up to Hermann so much, he’s not gonna ruin the guy’s fun. “No, no,” Hermann says. “Of course not. I’m having—er—a wonderful time.” He begins to scratch absently at his shoulder. There’s a small bump rising up from what looks like a gnarly patch of sunburn.

“Cool,” Newt says.

“Bit buggy though, isn’t it?” Hermann says. He scratches at another mosquito bite on his ankle.

“It’s not too bad!” Newt says. “I can deal with it.”

“If you're sure,” Hermann says.

They pack the rented jeep up around sunset when the public beach blessedly closes at last. Newt drops the busted umbrella twice on the dunes on the hike back to the parking lot, and Hermann (who’s clutching on to Newt so he doesn’t lose his footing on the uneven ground) finally loses his sunhat for good when he tries to bend down to help Newt the second time: it’s caught in the wind and blown out to sea. They watch sadly as a wave swallows it. “I’ll buy you another one,” Newt says.

They sit in silence in the jeep for a few minutes when Newt starts it, enjoying the A/C (however weak it is) after a day spent in the thick humidity. Hermann’s bony shoulders and fine cheekbones are lobster-red. He’s scratching absently at his thigh. It’s the first time Newt’s ever seen the guy in shorts, and he can’t even enjoy it through the uncomfortable haze of guilt. “Newton,” Hermann finally sighs. “I very much appreciate your, er, enthusiasm for the day, but—” He touches the back of his red neck, wincing, and cranks the A/C up a notch. “—perhaps next time, we might just see a film, or go for dinner?”

“Oh, my God,” Newt says. He sags in the driver’s seat. “Fucking yes, please. That was awful.” It’s cruel to rip them from the comfort of their underground lab and drop them back into the elements of, like, the great outdoors without some build-up, even if this was in fact all Newt’s doing. Like a zoo putting a penguin in a lion habitat or something. Except Newt was the one to tell them to do it.

“It was terrible,” Hermann agrees.

“Why the hell didn’t you say something?!” Historically Hermann has never, ever had a problem bitching at Newt about even the slightest inconvenience or perceived annoyance.

“You went to all that trouble,” Hermann says, “and I was trying to be—” He grits his teeth. “Nice.”

“Gross, dude,” Newt says. “Don’t ever do that again.”

[drdamiang]

when it got cold

WHEN IT GOT COLD

when it got

cold, cold, cold

we would watch

Dr Who on television

around the gas fire

we did not know

how far South

we would be

sailing soon

how balmy they

could be

those balmy Indian

ocean white

sand beaches' nights

but Dr Who too

had places to go, future

times to meet

Daleks

just around the corner

to terrify the life

out of the nation

(thanks to

Mr Nation)

so

frights to be had

shores

to say goodbye too

and hot tea to drink

my sister Sharon

saying nothing but sensing

the two of us

returning in the future

back for a squizz

a reconnoitre

a blessed

peep in

through that exact

window to see

how it was

tree full of bees

by the backdoor and

our nice

imported little fridge

and watching

with Mother and those

short-short, too

short

English Summers send

Springs

and Autumn, Keats' season

the trees

changing colour

and we

already

selling up

already

on the move

boat sliding out the harbour

together on

the ocean for

goodbye to

all English things