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ceilidho · 1 year

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prompt: you keep seeing apparitions of a dead special forces operative who's been haunting the barracks. (light angst; nsfw) (actual ghost simon riley)

War dogs chewed up and spat out by the machinery of war.

It is an incalculable blow to learn of his death. Worse still that you learn of it by happenstance, one officer talking to another, only listening in because it’s been weeks since you’ve seen him and their voices go hushed in that way that makes your ears prick up. You’re sitting at a nearby table in the canteen when someone says the single most devastating words that have ever been spoken near you.

“They weren’t able to recover the whole body, just some of it. Pretty gruesome. Don’t know if you ever met him, but he was an alright guy—pretty quiet. Scary, yeah, but—I don’t know. He was fair. Got the job done though. Soap’s taking it pretty hard.”

You barely breathe at the news. Something is squeezing your heart until it overfills on the other side.

You walk around base in a daze after that. It’s not anyone’s fault that you aren’t notified—no one was supposed to know. Your whole arrangement with Simon was predicated on the knowledge that it would never be revealed to your commanding officers or the rest of the infantry. Made sense at the time. Makes less sense now when your world is falling apart and you have no way of even requesting Ghost’s dog tags.

Pain holds you upright like a splint while it also tries to smother you. You crawl back to your barracks after training the recruits, voice a hoarse whisper in your throat. Showers are an optimal place to cry, when maybe you won’t be heard. Grief is not grief when there’s nowhere for it to go.

Maybe Soap was privy enough to Ghost’s life to know. He doesn’t spend time with you, but you see him once from across the tarmac on a flight out and his gaze lingers on you. There are deep troughs under his eyes, dark even with the distance between you. His posture is still, rigid; despite his uniform being pressed and his hair being cut and gelled into place, there is something singularly heavy weighing him down.

He nods from across the way to you. You grit your jaw and nod back.

It’s the only time you’ll ever acknowledge it. Soap never seeks you out after that—maybe it’s too painful. Maybe shared pain isn’t always enough.

The worst is only finding out weeks later that Ghost has been buried. That’s your closure. An offhand comment from an operations officer on a smoke break. Your numb hand flicking a lighter. Rain breaking in the early twilight hours and you stand in it so long that you shiver and shake on your way back to your room.

Lightning that crackles in the storm clouds, illuminating the place where you just stood outside while you stare from your window. Illuminating someone standing where you just were. You squint, but they round the bend to one of the other buildings before you can make them out.

Every soldier has a story. Conducting barracks checks on staff duty only to find a soldier with half their jaw missing asking for a cigarette. A marine approaching a soldier asking for his rifle, garbed in a ripped vest from early Iraq. Squad bays known for apparitions, known for hauntings. Figures seen from the trees, the half-shadowed remains of old tanks, burned and hollowed out, suddenly upright and mobile.

In certain barracks, soldiers won’t even leave their rooms at night to use the washroom. They’d rather piss in old bottles or hold off until morning light altogether. It’s common enough to be joked about, for soldiers to trade stories in the mess over supper, trying to spook each other with the things they’ve seen or claimed to see.

You can tell the ones who’ve actually seen things from those who haven’t though. The ones who have are often quieter, often only laugh a little. The truth is buried in their inability to fully commit to the bit. It’s the knowing that does that.

Knowing that there are things that death cannot hide.

The first time you see Simon again, it’s not a homecoming. You know there’s something very wrong.

It’s 3am and someone’s standing in front of your door. You feel it before you see them, feel something like every single hair on your body standing on end and the sudden lucid thought in the middle of a dream that you need to wake up. That you need to wake up right now.

Heart racing when your eyes snap open. Sweat already slicking the backs of your knees. You’re lying on your side, hands curled close to your face, and you feel its gaze on you like the heaviest dread you’ve ever felt in your life. You stare at the wall that your bed is pushed up against until you find the courage to roll over.

Just a shape in the dark. A dark shape. Distinct from the rest of the darkness in your room. Tall as it is wide. The slightest motion to it, like breathing or the gentle swaying of the human body when it’s allowed to be loose.

There’s a lamp on your end table. You flick it on without tearing your eyes away from the dark shape looming by the door, but when light unveils your room, it flickers away like a bad illusion. Just a jacket hung up on the back of the door. Your heart races still.

When the light goes off, the shadow doesn’t reappear.

It might not be him, but something’s haunting you. You spoon cereal into your mouth in the morning with a shaking hand. It’s the massive shape of a body behind the shower curtain in your private bathroom that has you certain—certain—that someone’s there until you whip it to the side and see only tile wall. You know what you saw though, and you know from the way the top of it peeked over the curtain that it was blond.

Weeks go by. You’re in a bivy sack and a voice you recognize wakes you up for watch. It’s the same voice that used to rumble low in your ear when you let him into your bed on leave (you always used to take them at the same time, no one the wiser). You’re back on base in your room and something leans its full weight onto your bed. You wake up to him sitting on the edge of your bed, blood dripping from an old wound. Him though, skull mask and all. Eyes shadowed always, black staring at you seeing and unseeing.

You don’t need to ask what he wants from you. He lumbers around the barracks like a wraith that only you can see. Never truer to his old moniker than he is in death. A civilian worker flirts with you one day and he winds up in the infirmary. Fell down the stairs, another sergeant tells you when you ask. You smile tight, brittle. If only.

He slips into your bed at night when the lights are shut and you’ve turned over onto your side. You can’t see him, but the bed compresses under his weight like it did when he was alive. He’s still for a minute, stare heavy on you while you lie there motionless, waiting him out. When he finally lays a hand on your hip, you flinch at how normal it feels. Like he didn’t go out and die one day. Like it’s really him at your back dragging a hand down the curve of your hip and over your thigh.

He divests you of your pyjamas the same way he used to in motel rooms, your apartment off-base, his cabin up north that you still have the key to but can’t bring yourself to visit. You let him. Shorts pulled down and kicked to the bottom of the bed, then your underwear. Shirt rucked up so he can fit a big, rough hand over your tit. His hands are solid where they touch you, nothing ghostly about them. He squeezes like the memory of your flesh is half-gone, like he needs to sink himself into you again.

“Missed…you…” His voice comes like a deep rumble, tectonic plates shifting over the asthenosphere.

The hand on your breast slides up, over the delicate skin of your throat, over where your pulse goes mad and you dry swallow because there’s nothing in your mouth. Over and up the curve of your cheek, thumb pressing against your lips, curling your top lip up until you’re almost kissing it. Then he lets go, hand coming back down to your hip.

“Simon, are you—” you start, cut off on a gasp when he lifts your leg over his hip and something presses against your opening. Notches there, sinks in hot inch after hot inch. Head spinning and breath wild when he spears you on his thick length, half-tumbling over you until you’re lying prone on your bed. Simon’s as heavy as you remember, the full weight of him keeping you trapped there. You can only take. You can only draw in a deep breath and let out the softest sounds while he presses in,

“Had to…come back,” the ghost of your old lover says, growling into your ear. “Couldn’t…leave you here…alone.”

You wonder what’s really behind the mask this time. His hands and dick feel flesh enough, but fear still quivers in your belly because you know that whatever it is pressing you down with a firm hand on your shoulder blade, it’s not fully him.

You’ve heard of ghosts haunting places but never people. There’s something achingly loyal about the way he fucks you though. It’s dark and hot under him, and he mouths where he can, mask pulled up finally. Not that you can see. Better that you can’t, maybe. Pulsing in and out of your cunt, silent but for his shallow intakes of breath. He feels enormous and terrifying at your back.

A big arm still clad in his old uniform jacket is braced beside your head. Simon whispers apologies into your hair; that he pulled himself out of a grave for a second time because he couldn’t untangle his soul from yours, but he got it wrong this time around. He didn’t make it in time.

“I won’t leave you though, love,” he says around kisses laid tender on the nape of your neck. He bites the meat of your shoulder hard enough to leave an imprint of his teeth. “Never gonna leave you.” His words make you slicker, hotter; tightening around him until he snarls and fucks more viciously. A promise you thought he couldn’t keep.

In the morning, you stare at yourself in the bathroom mirror. You take off your shirt and turn around. There’s a red bite mark on your upper left shoulder and it aches when you touch it.

#cod mw2 #ceil writing #cod x reader #cod simon riley #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost cod #ghost/reader #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley x you

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artificial-transmutations · 6 months

Text

Going Green

"Microtransactions!"

Charles looked around the board members.

"Micro. Transactions. Have you ever heard of that? Anyone?"

Slowly, heads nodded.

"Oh, good! So, you *have* heard of them. Does anyone care to explain to me then why our games barely have any? In fact, I have yet to see *any* microtransaction revenue from our latest release."

"But Sir, 'Orcs and Morcs' is a single player game - and not for a mobile platform, too. It doesn't even have an online connection. It would be highly unusual."

Charles M. Anderson cut the engineer up with a gesture. He didn't even know the other man's name, which wasn't too unusual. Even though he was the CEO of GreenGames for six months now, he didn't bother to learn his subordinates names until they proved useful. And this unnamed engineer could be happy if he still had a job after this meeting.

"I don't care about your techno-babble. Microtransactions is where the money is, so I want them in our products. *All* our products. And make sure to make them mandatory for any progress, too."

Charles usually talked about "Releases" and "Products". To him, video games were just a product like any other. Of course *he* didn't play any of those silly games, games were for children and losers. He only cared for the numbers, the graphs and revenues.

"What about the backlash? I mean, I understand that you want to generate more revenue, but GreenGames is known for providing high quality games that *don't* try to rip their customers off."

"So?"

"So, this could be bad publicity for us. Really bad."

Charles looked around the table and noticed most of the other board members nodding.

"Listen up, everyone. I think there is some misunderstanding here. You think that I care about our customers. I really don't, as long as they continue to buy our products. There is no such thing as bad publicity. So, I don't tell you how to draw your silly ogres and you don't try to meddle in the business aspect of the company, okay?"

Even though the inflection suggested a question, it was perfectly clear that it was neither a question nor a request. Again, heads nodded and tried to avoid eye contact. Good. Respect was very important for a leader.

One woman spoke up. Charles suspected her to be some lead writer or something.

"It's orcs, Sir."

Charles blinked. "What are you trying to say?"

"You said ogres, but our games are about orcs. That is our thing, we make games about orcs."

"There is no difference between orcs, ogres, unicorns and all that whimsy stuff. Leave me alone with your fantasy crap."

"But there is another thing. You are responsible for the story of our products?"

The woman agreed with a careful: "Yes, Sir?"

Charles looked her straight in the eye. "It has come to my attention that there are certain woke elements in our products. As a story writer, I expect you to take care of that."

"What... do you mean by woke? And by taking care of that?"

Charles sighed. Why was everyone so incompetent?

"Apparently, there is same-sex smut in our products, some even have pronouns. That crap needs to disappear asap. It is 'go woke go broke', after all."

The writer woman looked at Charles incredulously. "But Sir! Same-Sex romances are a well-accepted part of the industry for *decades* now. And it's not like the player has to engage in that, too. It's just an option - an option we actually received much praise for in the past. And about the pronouns... It's just a setting that influences some dialogues on how the player character is referred to. Again, it is perfectly possible to play as a straight green cis male if that's what you want to do."

Charles shook his head, his voice now dangerously low. "One more word of that, miss, and you can start looking for a new job. 84% of our customer base is male, and male customers want to see boobs, that's a fact. I won't tolerate wasting company resources on pacifying some noisy minority and alienating our main audience."

"But sir!" the writer woman objected.

Charles' look silenced her.

"One more word and you're out. We'll find another writer. Someone who does the job and keeps their mouth shut. This meeting is over. I expect results end of next week."

Nobody dared to speak up when everybody left the meeting room, and Charles returned to his office. What a productive meeting.

Just as he turned to his computer to check today's KPIs, he noticed a new email.

From: Employee Council

To: Charles M. Anderson

Subject: Going Green

Body:

Dear Mr. Anderson,

we here at GreenGames would like to take the opportunity to point out some concerns about your leadership role.

We have noticed a disturbing development since your takeover and would like to remind you of the values we stand for at GreenGames. We like creating games, and we identify with the work we do. Our players are important to us, and we strife to be open and accessible for everyone. Just like the protagonists in our games, we have honor and use our strengths to better the world. You in particular should be the living embodiment of this ideal. Please take this chance to re-think your methods and decisions and "go green" for real.

Sincerely,

The Employee Council.

Charles was outraged. How dared those subordinates criticizing him? He reached for his phone, ready to phone his secretary to find out who this "Employee Council" was but was interrupted by a ripping sound.

The right arm of his expensive suit jacket had ripped at the shoulder, which was unusual. He would have to have a stern talk with the tailor. Charles stood up and took off his jacket - or at least, he tried to. It was like the piece of clothing was way too small all of a sudden. He finally managed to get out of it, but only with several more rips in the fabric. Charles loosened his tie. He was sweating like mad, and when he looked down on himself, he was in utter disarray. His shirt looked like it was several numbers too small and as he was watching, one button after the other flew off with an audible "pling", exposing his torso underneath.

But was it really his torso? Not only was it *bigger*, it also looked way *hairier*. Charles had never been a man with much body hair, but now, he looked down on a stomach that was showing visible abs covered with a dense treasure trail of dark hairs. They continued upwards where they met with a true forest of curly dark hair that covered the slabs of pecs that were still growing as Charles watched.

He had to loosen his tie again before taking it off entirely. All of his clothes felt constricting, so, he peeled himself out of his shirt, too. His expensive watch was interrupting his growth painfully, but Charles was too occupied to notice, let alone care. With a dull cracking noise, the leather strap broke, and the watch flew across the room, hitting the opposite wall.

As Charles continued to grow, the chair underneath him creaked, but, again, he had other things to worry about. His lower body was still covered by his dress pants and shoes, but that was getting tight, too. His shoes especially were getting painful, and it was a relief when the front broke, exposing large muscular feet and toes. His pants were filled to the brim with heavy, muscled legs now, but there was another region where the capacity had been reached. His groin formed an obscene bulge. That alone would have probably fit - barely - but it was accompanied by an unusual feeling. Charles didn't *mind* his extreme change. In fact, the hyper masculine body turned him on, even. He watched as a dick print became clearly visible outlined against his groin, as his cock grew hard. It pulsed, once, and Charles felt a spurt of precum soak into his boxer shorts. A wet patch became apparent as the liquid seeped through his pants - all from a single spurt. His dick pulsed again, and Charles' head began to swim. The air in the room was thick with sweat and testosterone by now, and Charles groaned from arousal. Man, what would he give for a nice firm manly ass right now, giving him a lap dance.

Wait, what? Manly ass?

But it was true! Every time, Charles tried to think about sexy girls, but all that came to mind were men. Burly, hairy men, twinkish shaved men, green-skinned ogre-man. No, not ogres, he corrected himself. Orcs.

As he thought this word, his dick pulsed again and made Charles almost cry out from arousal. He couldn't restrain himself anymore. He *ripped* apart his dress pants and lowered his boxer shorts that looked like a pair of briefs on his massive body now, releasing a gigantic stiff rod and a matching set of heavy balls - along with a whole cloud of manly, musky smell that made Charles even hornier than before.

He closed his gigantic hand around his shaft and moved it up and down, in a slow, barely constrained motion. He had almost come by that one stroke, so horny was his mind. Fascinatedly, he watched as his cock and balls took on a deep, green color. It looked almost like a cucumber, or the penis of the incredible hulk. Or... an orc. As he moved his strong hand up and down again, the green started to spread in all directions.

Yes! There was no doubt: He was becoming a big, strong, sexy orc! Charles let all restraints fall away and started pumping in earnest now. With each stroke, the green spread, until his entire torso was of a rich green color. His head felt a pressure as his facial structure reformed, and his ears grew long and pointy. His hair lost darkened and grew out into a wild mohawk-like hairstyle. At the same time, a black beard sprouted around his entire jaw, underlining his masculinity.

Meanwhile, the green had swept across his arms and legs, quickly eliminating any leftover pink spots. The green color looked incredibly hot under the coat of dense, manly hair, and Charles felt himself getting closer. He grunted with each stroke like an animal and where his muscular green body touched the furniture or his executive chair, it left a film of manly sweat. Finally, he felt a short bit of pain on his ears and nipples, as small metal piercings appeared there: Short studs in his ears and small rings in his nipples.

That sent him over the edge. With a final bellow, he came, mightily. His large green balls contracted and his massive cock spew cum everywhere: All over his stomach, his chest, his furniture, even his face!

Charr panted in the afterglow of his orgasm. He was the epitome of virility and although he had just cummed all over his office, his mind kept creeping back to sexy guys again. He would be able to go again, soon - but that had to wait a bit. He used the remains of his suit to clean up a bit (although it was still clearly visible and smellable what happened here), stuffed his mighty tool into the cum-stained underwear and reached for the phone.

"Please send the board to my office, I want to issue an honorable apology, and announce our new strategy." He rumbled with his new, low voice. After a moment of consideration, he added: "And please send someone to install our games on my PC."

He rubbed his hands. This would usher in a whole new era for GreenGames - with the greenest possible CEO.

I have the feeling that a lot of companies could benefit greatly from a bit of a greener leadership!

#male transformation #muscle transformation #straight to gay #orc #musk

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bonny-kookoo · 11 months

Text

Jungkook

𝐎𝐟𝐟-𝐃𝐮𝐭𝐲 | Hitskip

"Finding someone who can take care of what you love most when you're no longer able to is a final act of love- and not giving up."

Tags/Warnings: Police Officer!Jungkook, Dog Hybrid!Reader, Partners to lovers?, Alternate law-system/made up laws, crime, futuristic, sci-fi, body-modifications, Fluff, romance, Adult themes (sex, alcohol, mentions of drugs but no consumption), Comedy?, Angst, injury

Length: gonna be added later

There is no taglist for this fic.

-> Masterlist

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Despite basically living together, you and Jungkook aren't really all that close.

You've never went on vacation together or even on a day-trip, mainly due to insurance reasons considering you're owned by the police department, and not Jungkook himself. There's been too many accidents and problems in the past, forcing those rules onto handlers nowadays, and some might argue that it's for the better. The more professional you stay with your partner, the more professional you stay during work as well-

But Jungkook has worries.

Mostly because, while you'll probably be able to stay in service for another ten years maybe, he himself has to resign much sooner rather than later. He's got maybe a year left until his contract ends- and he's been told that to resign it, he will have to go through a rigorous process of evaluation again.

A process he most likely won't pass, due to his past injuries and resulting body mods to keep him mobile.

He's already looking for a potential new handler once he leaves- Taehyung being one of those he's got his eye on, though the new officer might not be the best fit for you, considering how he constantly seems caught off guard by your honestly very normal behavior as a police hybrid. You're not a pet down the line. You're not meant to be cuddly and cute and well behaved- you're meant to take down criminals, fight, and protect, most of all.

Seokjin is out of the question too, since he's got Yoongi- and he's still very much fit for work, despite his previously injured shoulder. He didn't need anything other than a regular operation- now he's back in service, more capable than ever.

Jimin doesn't want to do the handler training- he admits himself that he'd get too attached, and that would just harm his performance and put others in danger.

So who the hell is Jungkook supposed to choose? He doesn't want to just.. leave, and let you be alone until the department decides that you're unfit for anyone else, just for you to end up in a shelter where no one's gonna pick you up because who wants an aggressive former policedog hybrid?

"Jungkook?" You wonder, ripping him out of his thoughts as he looks at you, noticing your upper lip bleeding.

"What happened?" He instantly worries, hands carefully holding your face, thump inspecting your little cut that's bleeding. "Hm?" He asks after letting go to let you talk.

"I don' no'-" You fumble a little, trying not to move your lip too much. "I a'e an' use' a new s'oon" You stumble, and he gets up to grab a tissue for you to hold against it, before he walks towards the kitchen table to inspect the spoon you were talking about, running his finger over the edges-

finding a manufacturing error, tiny metal part not rounded properly, sticking out very sharply- so much so that it almost cuts him too.

"We'll wait a little, if it doesn't stop we'll see someone for it, okay?" He asks, moving the tissue a bit to inspect it- noticing that it's not that deep at all. The most challenging part will most likely rather be for you not to lick it constantly- that's gonna be a pain for him to control.

Well, maybe it was for the best that he didn't get the vacation with you.

He'll have to inspect all the cutlery now anyways, before he can let you eat again.

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Sometimes, Jungkook likes to dream.

What would a life be like if he just.. lived normally together with you? If he was just a regular part of this community, and not an officer feared for all the things people in the same uniform have done in the past?

Maybe you wouldn't be so scarred up from knifes and bullets having pierced your skin. Maybe he wouldn't have to wear his own bodymods- maybe you'd both just be normal, and unaware of the horrors human kind can make reality sometimes. But that's not your shared reality- yours is right now, as Jungkook keeps a hold on back straps of your bulletproof vest and harness you wear to hold you back, waiting for the signal to let you inside the house to search for drugs or other illegal substances. They're currently escorting multiple men out the pretty run-down place to make it safer- when he gets the command over his in-ear piece to let you in. "Alright, let's go." He tells you, letting you go so you can immediately run into the house, checking the living room first.

Your hands move the pillows on the couch, eyes frantically moving in concentration, ears moving and tail wagging. He knows it's actually not from excitement, but to 'move' scent around that might've settled somewhere so you can notice it better. Once you catch something, for example, your tail stills as to not disturb the trail, and not interrupt any traces by moving them around.

You're currently on your hands and knees looking beneath the coffee table, before you move again to walk into the next room- the connecting kitchen on the other side of the main entrance hall. It's cluttered, and Jungkook has to watch out as to not slip on any of the trash, gun still drawn in his hand as a safety precaution, just in case. You're tripping a little here and there, looking and sniffing around, tail going left to right at a rapid pace.

You leave the kitchen, make your way upstairs to the bedrooms, entering one of them on the left side. Jungkook follows, notices how your tail suddenly stops, a clear sign that you've picked up something specific. You're supposed to be searching for drugs right now- and so Jungkook watches now with his gun lowered as you look around more specifically, walking one step, evaluating, walking another step, repeat. You're reacting to something, and he wonders what it might be.

Unbeknownst to him, you found something entirely other than drugs.

You're suddenly sitting down in front of a closet, looking over your shoulder towards him, who walks closer to you now, running a hand over your head. "Good job. What's in here?" He asks, pointing before opening, and you reach out to prevent him from doing so.

"RDX." You tell him, and his eyes widen as he helps you up and instantly away from the closet.

"We found something." Jungkook tells into his ear piece, earning the response to clarify what exactly was found. "Highly possibly explosives. Hybrid indication in the upstairs guest bedroom, inside a blue wooden closet." He explains, receiving the response that a bomb squat has been notified to take care of the potential issue, and to get out of the house immediately. Jungkook does just that, taking your hand to rush out, coworkers outside already having evacuated the immediate area.

"Jungkook?" You wonder, and he instantly turns to check up on you, remembering that he did not give you appropriate positive reinforcement either due to the sudden tension of the situation. It's then that you hold out your hand, drop of blood running down from it. "…can I have a plaster maybe?" You ask meekly, and he instantly holds your hand to take a look at the injury.

"How'd that happen pup-.." He somewhat swallows the petname down, hissing a bit at the nasty wound. "Can you move your fingers?" He asks, and you nod, curling them each to show it to him.

"I didn't cut myself- I think my hand got caught on something maybe when I searched the kitchen.." You mumble, ears lowered and tail between your legs.

"Does it hurt?" He asks, well aware that it has to- skin already red and bruised around the cut skin. You shake your head, but once look at him makes your eyes tear up and bottom lip tremble.

Well, down the line, you're also just a living being with thoughts and feelings, and this is also a side that he's come to know about you. The more.. private one, the one that's usually only presented when you're not on duty.

"Alright come on, then, let's wrap something around that for now, okay?" He soothes, smiling softly as he leads you back to the car.

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Considering how fearless you are in the eye of danger, running after any criminal no matter what without any hesitation, Jungkook can't help but laugh a little as you sniffle into his chest, hiding in his sweater now while your wound is getting stitched in the emergency room. You're quietly whimpering while he runs a hand over your back, nurse smiling amused at the whole scene. "Almost done." He soothes, watching how the nurse finishes up the last few stitches before she cleans it again, and wraps it up.

"Alright, there we go!" The nurse says. "Looks like she's gonna get some time off." She smiles, unable to hide her motherly instincts as you look at her with tearful eyes now, pulling your hand towards you now as if to hide it. "It should be fine in a few days, but since it's in a spot that has a lot of movement, I'd say at least for the rest of the week she shouldn't move it too much." She tells Jungkook, who nods.

Back home, and with the knowledge that you'll truly have time off for an entire week, the actual challenges begin. You're not supposed to move your hand, and you know that- but that doesn't mean you won't try and still use it anyways. You're currently climbing on the kitchen counter, attempting to raid the upper cabinet where Jungkook keeps your favorite snacks- but he's quick in his reflexes, tugging you back and putting you down onto the floor again with your feet.

He can't even really be mad at you.

You're not used to being 'home' like this. You don't know the rules, or general manners- that's something you've not been taught, because as a police hybrid, it's not necessary. One of the main reasons why most hybrids in jobs like yours never get to live in a normal home after they get too old or injured to continue their service.

Most stay at special housings, group homes. Jungkook already dreads the day you'll surely have to live in one as well.

"You're not mute. You can ask if you want something." He chuckles, before he's caught off guard when you hug him. Wordlessly so.

You don't talk much, and if you do, mostly only with him. It's always been like that- unfamiliar people make you anxious and quiet you down.

But right now, you're quiet with him too. He can sense there's something you want to ask- but you don't. You just nod, and apologize quietly, before you leave the kitchen to go into your room- leaving the door ajar however. He slowly walks towards it, knocks on it to ask for entrance- and your ears turn towards him at that. "Can I come in?" He wonders, and you nod.

Jungkook isn't in your room very often. He wants to give you as much privacy as he can, treats you like a person and not just a pet or animal. He also wants to keep things professional and has to keep you at a distance at all times, too. It's a tough challenge.

"You seem to have something on your mind." He says, sitting down next to you on the bed, and you just shrug, pulling up your legs to hug them. "Wanna talk about it?" Jungkook asks, and you shake your head.

He respects that. Sometimes, there's just things you want to keep to yourself- just like himself.

"Jungkook?" You ask suddenly, quietly, and he instantly turns towards you to make sure you know you've got his attention. "Why.. didn't you tell me you'll leave soon?" You ask, and his heart drops.

"I don't even know that yet." He tries to justify, but it's clear that it doesn't help.

"But you're pretty sure." You scold him. "I overheard you talking to Taehyung.. you wanna get rid of me before you'll quit." You huff, and he shakes his head at that.

"That's not true." He denies. "I'm not getting rid of you. I just don't want you to end up alone." He sighs.

"..am I not alone already?" You mumble almost incoherently- but he hears it. "I wanna sleep now." You tell him before he can ask you what you mean-

And your statement is a clear way to tell him that you wouldn't even answer him if he asked anyway.

⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅

It's just patrol. Nothing big.

And yet, the silence inside the car is suffocating him.

You're normally always pretty quiet- but you do chat around whenever there's nothing much going on, or if you're on simple patrol duty like today. However, ever since that moment a few days ago in your room, you've been distant- trying to detach yourself from him, it feels like.

He's never noticed just how close you've gotten until now that you've pulled yourselves apart from one another.

"Man, he's speeding." Jungkook mumbles from the driver's seat, while you perk up just to look up front to see what he's seeing.

The guy is in fact speeding, even if it's not too much. But what's more obvious is the swaying- he's missing a taillight already, and the car clearly has issues staying properly on the road. And when he runs over a stop-sign, Jungkook sighs, and turns on his lights to signal the driver to pull over- and the car does so, almost slamming into a street sign as it clumsily parks at the side of the road.

"I'll be right back." He says, before he steps out, leaving you in the trunk area that's cut off from the backseats by metal bars to keep you safe from people he potentially needs to transport. "Stay alert." Is the last thing he says, before he walks towards the car for a routine check.

Probably a drunk driver. Maybe drugs involved- you'll most likely be taken out for a search in a few minutes, and then you'll clock out an hour later.

But then you hear commotion- Jungkook shouting, and you instantly go into high alert, looking through the metal bars to see him arguing with a tall man who's clearly agitated about something. And then, everything happens so fast that you can't even process it quick enough.

A shot, clear as day, Jungkook running towards the car, opening the trunk where you're in, before he barks out for you to get him- the man running off into a field that you instantly follow after.

You can't really think much about what might've happened where the cars are still parked. You've got tunnel vision, legs keeping you running as fast as you can as you chase the man through the field, trying hard not to lose sight of him.

Unaware that the man is still armed.

⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅

"Did she get him?" Jungkook asks in the hospital, as Seokjin arrives to pick him up. The shot had grazed his body mods and made him lose balance and feeling in his legs and hands- so it had to be fixed in a minor surgery, leaving him mostly unconscious for the past two days.

"Yeah- he was arrested, is awaiting trial. Was terribly wasted and on meth." He offers dryly, causing Jungkook to become suspicious.

"Did.. she sleep at the station while I was gone?" He asks, but he doesn't get an answer until he pulls his coworkers shoulder to make him face him. "Where is she?" He asks, and Seokjin sighs.

"Just focus on healing right now, kook-" He starts, but Jungkook shakes his head, face angry.

"I'm perfectly fine, now answer me." He demands. "Where is she?"

"She got hurt." Seokjin admits. "She's.. in hospital right now, but she'll be fine."

"What happened?" He urges once again. "Seokjin, what fucking happened?" He asks, but the officer refuses to answer, not until Jungkook speaks up again in the car later, on the way to his house. "How bad?" He lowly questions.

"They're not sure." Jin finally comes clean. "If you want, you can see her once she's allowed to have visitors. I can offer you to review the body cam footage too, just to.. prepare yourself." He sighs.

"I should've never let her out." Jungkook runs a hand over his face. "I should've waited for backup-"

"There's no use in that now." Jin offers. "Things happen. It was a stressful situation, you couldn't have known. Things quite literally happened in the span of minutes." He reassures him. "And she did the same. She thought about getting the job done, and she did." He says.

"..so she did catch him?" Jungkook asks.

"Absolutely. Held him down.. well, despite her situation." Jin nods almost proudly. "Jungkook." He takes a deep breath, sighs as he parks in front of the younger man's house. "She.. might not return into service. "

Jungkook doesn't move, eyes becoming distant. He's not sure how bad it must be- but he can assume it by this sentence alone. If you're not returning to service, that the damage done must've been severe.

"Keep your head up, robo-cop." Seokjin pats Jungkook's back- not too much, since he's still recovering. "She's a tough cookie. She'll make it." He tries to reassure.

And Jungkook nods-

hoping he's gonna be right about that.

#bts imagine #bts fanfic #bts fic #jungkook imagine #jeon jungkook x reader #hybrid imagine #jeon jungkook imagine #bts jungkook imagine #jungkook x reader #bts jungkook fanfic #bts jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook fanfic

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thewebcomicsreview · 7 months

Text

I'm hardly the first person to notice this, but good god webcomics are the least time-efficient possible way of telling a story, aren't they?

I've been trying to figure out a better method of telling a story so that I could finish it before I die of old age (or, perhaps more relevantly, before everyone loses interest). It seems like no one really wants to read prose on the internet, but also people don't really like a comic that takes a year to go anywhere.

The main bottleneck is dialogue. You can only get 2-3 lines in a standard comic panel, so even a short conversation of character texture can take several pages. It makes me wonder if the Single Panel With Text Beneath It style (like ForEach) isn't just the Objectively Correct™ way to tell a comic on the internet. It's very efficient on the art, you can include narration if that's your jam, and it's very easy to make it work on mobile. (Also the art being separate is a boon if you want to make marketing materials). But everyone will correctly call you a Homestuck rip off.

Though the other thing Homestuck did was make these sprites of the characters that could be used to crank out a bunch of panels for scenes where nothing visually interesting was happening. You don't really see that copied as much

Not openly, anyway. There's a stigma. I've thought about rebooting Legend of the Hare as a visual novel, where that kind of thing is arbitrarily more accepted, but it does start raising the question of why you're bothering with the visuals at all. I don't think the kind of person who makes webcomics is usually looking for an excuse to get out of drawing, even if it lets them increase their page output dramatically. Making sprites that don't look like absolute ass is also really hard. Homestuck sprites have a really specific janky charm to them that I've never really seen any other comic pull off.

And, yeah, you could always just use a simpler art style, like Order of the Stick does, but it's super hard to get anyone to read a webcomic with great art, let alone simple art designed to maintain a high page output. And, again, why are you making a comic if you don't want to draw, unless you just naturally happen to draw that way and be really fucking good at it like Rich Burlew is?

It seems like the only really good way to tell a story in a reasonable amount of time as a webcomic artist is to make enough money off it that you can work full time, and, um, that's not really feasible either.

I don't have an answer I like. I guess just kill yourself in the content mines working webcomics as a second job that doesn't pay you anything.

I don't have a conclusion, capitalism is a nightmare.

#Random Thots #ForEach #Homestuck #Order of the Stick #B^U

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heartfullofleeches · 7 months

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hhhrggrhrgrg NL Darling feeling a sort of kinship with mono right off the bat because oh?? not human?? metal bits?? all alone??? :)) friend

Mono 🤝 Nightlight Darling

Lonely Bots with a space theme who long for someone to hold- [just gonna use this ask to slap on the full blurb I made with these two cuties]

Mono finds Nightlight abandoned in a scrap yard on what would've been their last evening on earth for some time - searching for the perfect item to bring with them until they returned. Throughout their travels, Mono had developed an affinity for collecting souvenirs from the planets they stumbled upon. Though its time was often brief - Mono felt a certain homesickness for every planet as they no longer had a home of their own. When they reached earth, their little hobby gradually escalates to a borderline addiction. So many treasures left for grabs in places like junk yards or antique shops simply because humans no longer see their worth.

If it were up to Mono, they would've taken everything they set their eye upon, but all that weight may not be good for their ship. They needed to find the perfect treasure to bring back with them..

And so they did.

"H..he....hello?"

When Mono found Nightlight - the poor android was in a terrible state of repair. Their dominant arm was nowhere to be seen, body covered in dirt and small scratches. Mono knew from the moment it saw Nightlight they'd do anything to fix them. Never had they'd seen such gorgeous craftsmanship from humans - only for them to be abandoned in cold, awful place like this. Mono carries Nightlight and the blanket they found the android in to their ship. What Mono thought to be a final gesture of kindess from the humans who cared for them would later be revealed as the cruelest act by far.

"They didn't even bother to shut me off properly... My last owners... They just put me in a blanket and made sure my solar panels were covered...I still remember...everything..."

The energy draining from their body. The loss of mobility in their limbs, unable to move even if they tried after being left in idle mode. Their former owners couldn't even give them the mercy of powering them down completely or wiping their system.

Nightlight isn't their usual self when they first meet Mono, but it isn't long before they're back to their cheerful self with how considerate and caring Mono is. Hints of their former self presented whenever Mono offers to leave their former owners to rot in filth or to rip off the arms of thieves who stole their arms. They haven't known them long, but they can tell Mono would never hurt they soul which they wouldn't.....at least not in front of their new crewmate. It's also hard for Nightlight to feel down when they can see earth right outside their bedroom window.

"Whoa! Is that earth?! It looks so small from up here... Look, I can hold it in my hands!"

Nightlight's energetic self is exactly what Mono's ship needed for it to finally feel like home to the alien. The android's lights are quite useful when the light surrounding the ship are on the fritz again as well. When it's time to repair nightlight's arm, Mono sneaks in parts of their metal into the limb during its construction. Unbeknownst to Nightlight, in Mono's culture that means they're already lovers.

Tiny human sized nightlight rides around on Mono's shoulders or clings to the larger bot's arms, legs, or hip whenever they're exploring. Anyone they meet along their journey can see how quick to iteration Mono is without their Starlight hanging off of them.

As some may know, Mono's native language best translate to Morse code. What some may not know - and something Mono was clearly unaware of is that Nightlight can understand them perfectly-

"Wow....I knew stars were beautiful, but seeing them up close... it's amazing."

"It is true they are a marvel to see in person...."

Mono trails off, sliding their fingers over the collar around its neck.

"-… ..- - / .. / -.- -. --- .-- / --- -. . / - …. .- - / … …. .. -. . … / -… .-. .. --. …. - . .-."

"Oh! Are you talking about me? You're so sweet, Mono - i think you shine bright too."

".-- …. .- - ..--.. -.-.-- ..... You can understand me? How long have you been able to..."

"Forever? You talk a whole lot in your sleep, y'know. It's cute... I love you too by the way."

The embarrassment may temporarily shut Mono's systems down, but hearing Nightlight reciprocates their feelings is what kills them.

[Translations: But I know a star that shines brighter, What?!]

#Mono my oc #Nightlight Reader #yandere #yandere imagines #yandere x reader #yandere headcanons #yandere scenarios #yandere x you #yandere oc #yandere insert #yandere blurb #yandere alien #yandere android #yandere drabble

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cloudcountry · 1 year

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May I please get a fanfic where the guys react to male Mc/reader in a dress? Specifically for sebek, vil, kalim, jade and Floyd?

SUMMARY: Various TWST character reacting to Male!MC wearing a dress.

WARNINGS: None!!

COMMENTS: ofc you can anon <3 i think its funny that half the characters on this list would definitely wear dresses (at least they would in my head. vil is canon though for sure.)

Jade doesn’t even look twice when you exit Ramshackle wearing a dress. As a merman, he doesn’t see the point of assigning clothing to gender (nor does he see the point of clothing at all, but he digresses.)

He canonically finds clothing uncomfortable anyways, so he’s all for it if dresses are what make you more comfortable! He might make a dark joke about how the swishing of your skirt reminds him of the desperate struggling of prey but shhh

Sometimes he finds himself marveling at the fabric and how fragile it seems. It would be a shame if it tore, huh? Oh, don’t worry. He wouldn’t dare rip such a pretty piece of clothing.

Floyd being one of the characters I mentioned above...yeah he’s definitely worn dresses before, so seeing you in one only sparks curiosity about what the occasion is. Say, Shrimpy, why are you dressed up all handsomely, huh?

If anyone asks you why you’re wearing a dress “because you’re a boy,” Floyd’s making his scary face and threatening them with a good squeezing. It’s none of your business, tidewrack. Now scram.

Hell, if anything this makes you far more interesting! Do you see all those lame asses that wear the same shit every day? It’s a good thing you’re wearing something fresh and new!!

Kalim may sound insensitive at first because he blurts out a loud “why are you wearing a dress?” But he doesn’t mean any harm! Like Floyd, it’s more of a “What’s the occasion?” question!!

As a kid, he probably saw dresses and thought that they were nice, and let his sisters dress him up whenever they were in the mood to do so

He’ll talk for HOURS about how good the dress looks on you and offer to buy you more, much to Jamil’s annoyance. (Please tell him no, Jamil does NOT want to be taken dress shopping AGAIN unless it’s for your birthday.)

Vil “Fuck Gender Roles” Schoenheit doesn’t bat an eye. As far as he’s concerned, you’re wearing a dress and that’s a piece of clothing that’s androgynous.

I HAVE SEEN FANART OF THIS MAN WEARING DRESSES AND HE IS GORGEOUS. Bless the artists that draw Vil Schoenheit in dresses, I hope both sides of your pillow are cold forevermore. ANYWAYS my point is he’s completely confident rocking clothing that is typically seen as feminine and he would love it if you were confident enough to do that too!

And if it’s only something you do in private, be prepared to have Vil as your personal support system. He’s totally for you wearing clothing that you like.

Sebek sees you wearing a dress and his first thought is that you’re doing this for mobility. He compliments your dedication to your workout routine and offers some pointers in a very smug voice.

When you tell him you’re wearing it because you want to, and not for any training reasons, Sebek recoils in shock. What? Human, you mean your entire life is not spent training?! This is why you’re so weak!

Almost passes out when Malleus shows up the next day in a dress, saying the Child of Man was wearing one and he wanted to try it out too. I mean, yes, of course you looked handsome! But you always do! AND WAHHHH!! YOUNG MASTER MALLEUS!! YOU LOOK STUNNING AS WELL!! Crying ensues.

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antheshewro · 19 days

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Levi Ackerman headcanon #2 — (My) analysis on his disability

This is my second time writing about Levi and his character. I previously did so for his intimacy and sexuality; this time, I would like to give my honest opinion and headcanon on his disability. With the utmost respect for the topic as it should be handled, and the disclaimer that I don't have enough knowledge in that field.

A panel of the manga explicitly shows how a titan, during the final battle, bit onto his knee. It most likely crushed his bone and damaged his nerves all the way down. His leg, even after surgery (I could see him resorting to a more technologically advanced country and their skills in the medical field to do so), healing and physical therapy, remained stiff.

When I say "stiff", however, I do picture it not being able to bend anymore. If he sits down, he has to manually bend it. It surely hurts when it's humid, or it aches as time passes and if he sits down for a certain and/or prolonged period of time.

The usage of the wheelchair is mostly because limping the entire time is not the best thing to do, and it surely bothers him if that happens. I can see Levi using a cane whenever he wants to take a walk alone, not relying on anyone else but that wooden stick. And in a way, to feel like he's not burdening anyone, being carried around.

The acceptance of his disability surely wasn't easy. That's more than obvious, it would never be pleasant to anyone. For someone like Levi, who got the title of "humanity's strongest soldier", losing so much of his mobility made him think if it was worth it. Yet, remembering the sight of the ghosts of his fallen comrades made him get through tons of doubts and moments of self-consciousness. If one like Levi let loose and cried because of it, it's a very big deal. One of those deals that made him think that yes, he's disabled. He struggles with certain mundane tasks now, and he has to rely on other people to grab an item that's placed on a high shelf, because that particular day his leg hurts, for example. In the Bad Boy chapter, there's no wheelchair in sight; though it meant that he could've parked it somewhere (where, we don't know), we can say that if he was sitting there with Falco and Gabi, he could, again, limp his way there. It wouldn't surprise me if he was stubborn enough to be willing to help despite his injuries.

It's not a bad thing to imagine him as defeated; he lost his dear friends, his family (by blood and acquired one), and on top of that, he was left with one blind eye, two fingers ripped off from one hand and a leg that doesn't work anymore. Anyone would've reacted badly.

We also know that Levi always showed signs of being stubborn: he still engaged in a battle with fresh bandaged scars and injuries, or when he told Armin "You'll forget that I exist if I keep resting". Despite how weak he clearly was, clinging and pushing himself forward as he struggled to walk, it doesn't only show that pain doesn't stop him at all, but how stopping itself means that he's giving up on a state of vulnerability that he doesn't want to go back to; I do connect it to the time when in Bad Boy he was being beaten up by those men, before he "activated" his Ackerman genes. Or even when he had to endure the pain of Kenny leaving him, his mother dying, or his comrades falling. Levi is not going to let his own body win.

"If I let myself be weak and vulnerable, I would fail the little kid in me that fought for himself and survived despite the shit he went through. I'm not going to let him down and fail who kept me alive and made me the person I'm today. The person that people relied on. But I need to trust that kid and rely on him too," I bet he constantly repeats himself whenever he's struggling and gritting his teeth. When getting to the bathroom makes him sweat a little, or dressing himself up takes more than usual.

On the other hand, I think the relationship between Levi and the way he denies himself some sort of vulnerability is because he thinks that it doesn't bring him anywhere. It never helped him in the Underground; when in "No Regrets" he cried after Isabel and Furlan died, he most likely told himself, "What did I gain from this? Did it even help bring them back? It didn't. Suck it up."

With that, Levi suppressed his feelings and bottled them up. He allowed himself to tear up only when he saluted the fallen Scouts. But that wasn't vulnerability for him: it was pride. Proud of himself, that he kept a promise and showed himself that he wasn't the same little boy that was left in a dumpster of an underground city, more than twenty years prior. Even despite the reason he was forced to join the Scouts, and cleared his name within his own self. The son of a prostitute and his client, the nephew of a man that wasn't surely a saint.

As time passed, Levi accepted his disability and the fact that he had to adapt. You fall today, tomorrow, the day after tomorrow you understand that you need some backup. Gabi and Falco, and the ones who kept in touch with him (I would say Onyankopon the most, since at the end of the manga he shows up with the other three), surely were with him when he got back to his new house and had to face the reality of things. He would grumble and push the others away at first, and he never wanted to be helped. That meant having people care for him; last time it happened, those people left or died in front of his eyes. Too many traumas made him independent and reckless, as well as stubborn.

But even Levi has his limits. Gabi and Falco are compassionate and understand that they have to respect the fact that he needs time to fully accept his disability and people's aid. Once again, when someone has been left alone for years or discarded as if they were an old and broken shoe, they toughen up. Not because they want it, and I do believe that Levi tried a lot of times to heal his inner child and only succeeded with those kids at the refugee camp, while handing them lollipops. Giving them candies meant that he was helping them grasp onto that childhood they had been denied—and that sounds awfully familiar. Another side of him, however, has been so used to doing everything alone and being his own and sole emotional support that asking for help is not even contemplated.

Day by day, week by week, and year after year, he understood that grieving his lost mobility was alright. Letting people help him was alright. Discovering his limits, rediscovering his body and making everything coexist was the key. That the little Levi in him would be proud of adult Levi for not pulling a card at the base of the house of cards he built and instead, recreating it. That was when child!Levi began to feel at ease, and veteran!Levi could rest.

#aot #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #antheshewro #snk #aot headcanons #attack on titan headcanons #snk headcanons #shingeki no kyojin headcanons #levi #levi headcanons #levi ackerman #levi ackerman headcanons #levi headcanon #levi ackerman headcanon

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wintfleur · 10 months

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what are some pictures you resonate with Rut and Stella or Nico and Stella?

ꔫ pictures that remind me of stella and rut

˖ ་ 💭 roro’s notes ( thank you for requesting! I decided to do rut for this, let me know if anyone else would like to see a Stella and Nico version. I had so much fun looking for some pictures, I wish I could put more pictures in a post on mobile, everyone please don’t be a silent reader! )

°. — ( feel free to send any requests of things you would like to see in this series, or if you just want to share some thoughts! I would absolutely love that! Please comment if you would like to be added to the tag list!)

au masterlist - you can find asks under #💌stellahughes!

°. — asks about stella and rut are under #⋆ ˚｡⋆୨🩷୧˚ stella & rut!

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ stella and rutger’s photo gallery ˖⁺｡˚⋆˙

.❀。Stella hates swimming, but she’s always willing to snuggle in Rutgers lap on a floatie. There is a lot of whispered conversations, kisses and soft touches as they get lost in there own world as there friends and her brothers swim and have fun around them. 📸 taken by Luke Hughes!

.❀。stella is a very supportive girlfriend, going to as many games of his she can. Rutger calls Stella his good luck charm, always having to have a kiss from her before and after a game. Stella loves watching Rutger play, she’s so proud of him and she can really see how passionate and happy he is when he’s on the ice 📸 taken by Luca fantilli

.❀。Stella loves the library, she just finds it so peaceful. Rutger loves joining her at the library, sitting at one of the back tables, hushed whisperers and giggles, and soft jaw kisses are shared as they study and read. 📸 taken by Stella!

.❀。they can never keep there hands to themselves, they have had there share of elevator makeouts. I can see them in this picture. Rip to the innocent bystanders that has caught them a few times

.❀。Stella just has a habit of randomly biting rut, in the beginning of there relationship it would shock rut and make him laugh but now he’s used to it, sometimes he would randomly bite her back. He thinks anything she does is adorable. She mostly bites him on his arms/ biceps (I mean can you blame her???) sometimes softly bitting under his jaw to tease him.

.❀。they are always getting lost in there own world whenever they are together, they can only focus on each other as they stare into each others eyes. Anyone could see that they are in love. There eyes are always going to each other in crowds. There so in love I can’t. 📸 taken by Adam fantilli

.❀。they are always holding hands, they like feeling each others touch. Rutger holds tightly onto Stella’s hand when they are in crowds, always feeling better knowing that she’s close. When they are sitting next to each other, there holding hands. When they nap/sleep there holding hands. There just obsessed with each others hands, it’s so cute. 📸 taken by Rutger

.❀。Rutger loves Stella’s chest, he’s definitely a boobs guy. Whenever they are alone his hand is almost always resting on her boobs, he’s always caressing or leaving kisses on her chest, smirking at how sensitive she is. He also loves laying on her chest, listening to her heartbeat as she softly plays with his hair, it’s his favorite place to be 📸 taken by Stella

.❀。Stella loves holding Rutgers face in her hands, she thinks Rutger is the most beautiful person in the world. She could just stare at his face all day. She loves his smile so much, his smile is what made her fall in love with him. It makes her happy, softly caressing his cheeks as they stare into each other eyes, not having to say anything aloud;there eyes saying everything for them. Stella loves holding his face In her hands as she places a ton of kisses all over his face, smiling at the sound of his laughter. And Rutger feels the same! 📸 taken by Ethan Edwards

˖ ་ 💭 roro’s notes ( I just cant explain how much I love there relationship, I really want to get some blurbs and fics out for them, but I’m having trouble writing rn, but soon I’ll get something out! PLEASE DON’T BE A SILENT READER 🫶🏻)

°. — taglist ( @privatemythss @bradenschneider )

#⋆ ˚｡⋆୨👩🏻‍🎨୧˚ stella hughes au!#💌stellahughes!#⋆ ˚｡⋆୨🩷୧˚ stella & rut!#rutger mcgroarty x reader #rutger mcgroarty imagine #rutger mcgroarty #umich x reader #umich hockey #umich imagine #nhl imagine #umich fic #hughes sister #jack hughes #quinn hughes #luke hughes

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bumblesimagines · 5 months

Note

i'm not in love with them. i have feelings for someone else, someone i can't have.

could you ever see yourself loving me?

- Sarah. Cameron

could you ever see yourself loving me?

i'm not in love with them. i have feelings for someone else, someone i can't have.

Pronouns: He/Him/His, M!Reader

potential sequel to this

They were so stupid.

Every single one of them. He wanted to strangle them, even JJ and especially John Booker Routledge. Their stupidity, their amazing talent at getting in trouble, the Routledge greed that ran strong. It pissed him off to no end, especially when they dragged his brother into their foolishness knowing their family history, knowing just about every cop in town knew their last name by heart.

A ride that normally would've taken about nineteen minutes took (Y/N) just a little over five in his blind rage. His dirt bike skidded to a stop by the mobile home, kicking up leaves and dirt in its wake. He ripped the helmet off his head, jaw clenching and unclenching as he stormed up to the porch. No sign of the stupidly named van, but that never meant at least one Pogue wasn't lingering about. The door shook violently when he threw it open, startling the blonde lying on the couch. She blinked at him owlishly, slowly sitting up.

"(Y/N)? What are you-"

"Where's your latest boyfriend, Sarah?" He asked her, or more like snapped at her, one hand tightly clutching his helmet and the other shoving the front door open. Sarah stood up from the couch, slipping her phone in the back pocket of her shorts, her doe eyes flickering between him and the door.

"Who are you talking about? John B? He's not here. He- He went to drop Kie off-" The Carrera House. He vaguely knew the address. (Y/N) hummed, brushing past her and making his way back toward the porch's door. Sarah scoffed softly, slapping her hand over his arm and grabbing hold of his sleeve. "Hey! What's your problem?"

"My problem-" He whirled around to face her, getting right up in her face. Sarah blinked, her brows knitting further, but she remained stubbornly rooted in her spot. Fuckin' Camerons. "-is that you idiots are in trouble with Barry. I tell John B to drop this little treasure hunt and then, I get a call from my boss tellin' me that my brother and his stupid little friends jumped him."

"He tried robbing us!"

"It's the Cut, Sarah. Everyone steals shit from others. It's basic survival, which you wouldn't know a thing about, princess." (Y/N) hissed, inhaling a sharp breath and releasing it in a low groan. He pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to cool his anger. "What are you doing here, Sarah?"

"We were hanging out-"

"No, what the fuck are you doing here? In the Cut with Routledge? Out of all the boys you could've chosen to rebound with, it had to be the dumbest one here? He's a Routledge, Sarah. They're not exactly known for being good husbands. Hell, Big John chased off his chick and blamed her for it. You're going to be fucking miserable, I'll tell you that much." He told her, turning on his heel and tugging the door open again, nearly pulling it off its already loosened hinges. "You were better off picking Pope or staying with Thornton."

"I- I didn't pick anyone!" She shouted after him, the door creaking loudly when she opened it and followed him down the steps. He spared her a glance over his shoulder, wrapping a hand around one of the handles and quirking a brow at her when she grabbed the other one. "I'm not with John B, alright? I'm not in love with him. I have feelings for someone else, someone I can't have, by the looks of it."

(Y/N) stared at her, placing his helmet over the seat and cocking his head to the side. "Don't start, Sarah. You can't tell me you caught feelings after we slept together once."

"It was before that-"

"We never spoke before that!"

"That's not what I mean!" She huffed, running a frustrated hand through her hair, her shoulders rising and falling with a heavy exhale. Sarah looked away from him and groaned softly, pushing her hair away from her face again when it tumbled back over her shoulders. She wrapped her arms around herself, the leaves crunching loudly under her feet as she stepped away from him and the bike. "I-... I liked you before that." She admitted in a murmur.

"Oh, please, Sarah, could you ever see yourself loving me? Being in a relationship with me? You're just desperate to feel unique and different. Pop a xanny like the rest of your girlfriends or take some molly and you'll feel better, trust me."

"You're a dick."

"And the sky's blue but what else is new?" (Y/N) swung his leg over the bike seat, tilting his helmet over and slipping it on. Sarah watched him with a frown, the wind gently ruffling her blonde locks. He revved the bike and glanced over his shoulder at the long dirt road. "Here's some advice, princess: don't toss shit away people would kill to have or you'll end up like the rest of us."

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melliemelons · 6 months

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Re: the lil drabble that you wrote for the ask (same anon btw): Picture that for as much weight as the mother puts on, the babies put on even more. The majority of the calories are going to them and anyone can see it. Her tummy enters rooms far before she does... if she can even fit through the doorway. Her belly is wider than she is and there's no angle from which it can't be seen. Everyone in the neighborhood can't help but stare and gossip about how big she is and how much her babies must weigh. Every time she manages to find clothes that fit, the movements of her babies cause rips that spread like knocking over dominoes and buttons go flying like they were fired from a slingshot. When people touch her tummy without permission, she can't reach them to swat them away. Their movements have gotten so strong that when they kick, they almost knock her over. They jerk her forward and she has to follow along to keep from toppling over. The babies get a whiff of food and next thing she knows she's being forced toward yet another meal to feed her gluttonous brood. Sometimes her belly jumps from all of the activity inside, and it knocks things off of counters, upends furniture, makes all kinds of trouble. They're just too big and strong now, but she can't stop them from getting bigger and stronger when she keeps eating so much

Oooh, anon! You certainly know what gets me. 🤤 This is all so, so GOOD!

The poor thing is really just caught in a vicious cycle, isn't she? The larger her brood grows, the hungrier she gets, the more she consumes, the larger her brood becomes... it's almost as if she isn't in control of herself anymore. This is more than mere pregnancy brain. This is pregnancy worship, leaving her an absolute slave to the state of her body.

She can't even bear to look at her closet anymore. Why would she bother? Nothing in it has even come close to fitting for months now. In a pile in the corner is mangled and torn clothing, the victims of her frantic attempts to cover herself with something. Anything.

But then again, pregnant cows don't need to wear anything, do they? All they need to do is eat, and grow.

She barely notices that her due date has come and gone. Somewhere in the back of her mind, there's panic--how the hell is she supposed to birth babies that surely weigh near fifteen pounds apiece now? But then the aching in her stomach starts, those hunger pains that make the entirety of her gravid girth groan and gurgle.

She's not going to be mobile for much longer.

#this is totally self indulgent #these asks are so fun though #More please!#I love talking about bellies and belly accessories #smut #preggophilia #rapid wg #hyperpregnancy

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nostalgia-tblr · 14 days

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My Next Attempt At Long Fic (by which I mean more than 10000 words and it has chapters) Should Be...

Poll and the (actually quite long) gist of each option below le cut:

The Sylki Con Artists AU

This one I have a wee bit written of already but I go back and forth on this one because it's Alternative Universe - Modern Setting and I feel like there's already a lot of those (which I also complain about a lot), and I have to justify it to myself as an experiment in whether I can do a Sylki Modern AU that doesn't just end up as "two people called Loki and Sylvie do normal stuff together". That's why they are con artists in this! Because 1) MISCHIEF (or crime, or whatever) and 2) if they have the same 'job' for similar reasons and I go on about them being similar a lot then that's maybe as close as reality can get to selfcest. (The selfcest is not just a feature of sylki, I feel it is THE feature and to admit to being Bad At Shipping (again) I'm just not that interested in it if they're different people who aren't even aliens. The same alien.) (You can tell me they are gods all you want but I've seen enough Doctor Who to know that must be A LIE so I reject it as such.)

The plot is that they meet in a bar one night and shag (obviously!) and then the reader discovers that Loki is trying to buy a painting from an old woman (planning on ripping off both her and his own buyer) and Sylvie is an artist who is selling a forged painting to some posh twat on the internet who she knows is trying to rip off her fake old lady persona on the deal but she's selling him a fake painting anyway so at least he deserves to be conned. They meet up a few times before finally realising that they are in fact conning each other under fake names on the internet, and then I have to try and fix it when they inevitably get mad at each other because of it. Also, Thor works in a shop because the brodinsons are Downwardly Mobile (dad spent all their inheritance, oh no!) Plotwise Loki is going to actually need Sylvie's painting for reasons I have not yet entirely worked out so one way or another they will have to eventually forgive each other for being con artists as they themselves are and for having attempted to con each other.

Ideally I will be able to make this one funny in some way, as I think the concept can get absurd enough to make a rom-com out of it.

2. The Jotun Heat Fic (also sylki)

I was into this one for about a day and now I have second thoughts because I am not sure I care enough about Frost Giant Biology to have to write an entire fic about it. It would continue my tradition (I did it once, that's enough for it to be a tradition) of turning a tiny ficlet into a much longer thing. This one: The Opposite of Heat, in which Loki and Sylvie go into whatever the Jotun equivalent of the fandom fave 'mating cycles/in heat' trope is, having never done so before because (see if you can guess...) they've never previously spent enough time around another Jotun for the hormones to kick in properly. They have no idea this can happen, and what starts out as Fun Porno-Fic Times soon gets a bit worrying and then I suppose they have to Investigate and that's the bit I fear might end up boring me.

This is set in an AU where S2!Loki did not instantly demand that Sylvie help him with his cop friends' problems and instead just went to live in Oklahoma with her, so the other/'real' plot is them getting used to living together and the weird-but-sexy medical issue bringing them into conflict because of course the first place Loki wants to go for help is the TVA (this not unreasonable of him, as they have a lot of info in their archives and he has no other friends anyway), which Sylvie is not keen on as she would rather just avoid them for the rest of forever. Gosh, I hope nobody goes to the TVA for help behind anyone else's back!

I need a way to make this one stay interesting once it gets to the Find Out What Is Happening part and also it needs to not just immediately end with a sensible solution like just going to Jotunheim and asking someone there for a talk about the frost-birds and the frost-bees.

Also I think they should fuck in that McDonalds. Just because.

3. Jotunheim Rejects The Guy Who Cannot Possibly Be Its Rightful King, Because I'm Annoying Like That AU (not thorki)

Speaking of going to Jotunheim, you know all those fics where Loki goes to be the Rightful King Of Frostland, as Odin apparently planned all along? That but it doesn't work, because I am not at all convinced he can have been Laufey's heir (who the fuck infanticides their only male heir?!) and even if he was well it'd just look awful, wouldn't it? Crusty Old Odin, worst friend to Jotunheim for several years running, sends back your kingdom's heir having raised him as one of his own family. (I hope at least one of you is thinking "US-Backed Puppet Ruler Who Will Do Whatever The CIA Tells Them To" because I did too! Ooh, geopolitical barely-subtext!)

The problem with this one for me is it requires a fairly large cast of Original Jotun Characters, and I still fear writing OCs because of the constant 'Mary-Sue' complaints in my fannish youth. Also I would Controversially (LOL not really) make some of them women, including Angrboda the ambitious would-be consort and Laufey's tragically spurned lover who on finding out that her long-dead son is not dead makes the most of it by insisting everyone call her 'My Lady, the King's Mother' (yes, I stole that from History but I do that sort of thing now, for the LOLs). So I have a bit of an idea what happens in this one, though I'd need to think of more political type plot stuff and also I just finished writing a multichapter fic that involved the Jotun succession so maybe I'd be overdoing it if I did this one now as well.

The other problem is Jotuns are too fucking tall. I mean really. This doesn't seem to bother anyone else but they are Too Fucking Tall to interact with the shorter characters, to the point that it just seems accidentally comedic to me. Just imagine the totally-not-a-puppet king of Jotunheim sitting on a massive throne, swinging his wee legs in the air. And I don't know how to work around that other than just saying "they are Less Fucking Tall in this fic" and I don't know if that would just annoy people. Also it does feel a bit incendiary to go against the general fandom insistence that Loki Is Totally The Rightful King Of Jotunheim. Though I suppose in this he is, it's just that he attempts to become so in the sort of circumstances that make everyone start saying things like "are we really that keen on our monarchy?" or at least "surely there's a cousin or an uncle we could give the crown to instead? yeah, even a woman would do. no, she doesn't have to be alive if there are only dead ones available."

(It was a mistake to let me read books about the Wars of the Roses, wasn't it?)

Oh and this isn't a thorki fic, but Thor is going to go to Jotunheim with his bro to help him settle in and also he will be going back to rescue him from it at the end. Bros before snows!!!!

#if it saves u a click: two are sylki and the other would be an AU from them Thor films #the vote is not legally binding i just like to have the occasional election to pretend i'm not an oppressive tumblrtator #also it'd maybe help to have some idea which of these anyone else would want to read #fic related #with a poll!!!

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