#sal whatever his last name is

[try-set-me-on-fire]

Fuck It Friday It’s Saturday what if i try to just write a whole fic right here in a tumblr post

Okay Brick from the future here after i have indeed written a fic right here in a tumblr post, warning for some homophobia (described past high school experiences from Eddie). Based on this post. Have not reread it at all before hitting post so good luck hopefully it’s more or less cohesive

Was tagged in fuck it Friday by uh somebody probably but i can’t find it in my notes. Tagging — oh it’s like 11 o clock, so this can be for seven sentence Sunday? — @bigfootsmom @iinryer @shitouttabuck @chronicowboy @eddiebabygirldiaz @queerdiazs @butchdiaz @homerforsure

The music is turned down low now, because it’s late, and even though the sprawling backyard of the ranch house is far, far away from any neighbors the event coordinators were still firm about a noise curfew and it would be a shame for such a lovely wedding to end with a visit from some of Athena’s coworkers. Most of the lights in the house are off or dimmed — beds and couches littered with the young and the old and the drunk — so the only lights out here are the strings of fairy lights and little jars with bulbs in the lid that remind Buck of sneaking out to the park with Maddie to catch lightning bugs back in Pennsylvania. The murky light and the quiet make everything feel soft as Buck stands on the porch, bare feet on creaky wood. He’s not sure where his shoes got off to, removed at some point when the dancing had started to pinch his heels. His throat burns a little from all the talking — and maybe that last vodka sour — and his eyes sort of itch from all the crying earlier. (Eddie had frowned at him, three of his fingers pressed into his elbow, as Buck had wept through the ceremony. A clear are you okay? And Buck had only nodded, because talking would have been rude, and despite everything that might make it seem otherwise, he really was.) He thinks Eddie might be the only person left here that he knows, the rest of the 118 departing in the last hour or two, though he’s not sure where he is, either. Maybe the same place as his shoes.

“Buck.”

Not with his shoes, then. Buck watches as Eddie stumbles towards him across the lawn from wherever he’d been. Dancing, maybe. He’s sweaty, his cheeks are cheerfully pink and he’s grinning with all his teeth showing. Buck steps down into the grass to meet him. “Hey, Eds.”

“Hello,” Eddie says, soft and pleased. He looks all over Buck’s face, over his now disheveled suit with the jacket hanging on the railing behind him and down at his missing shoes. Eddie frowns at that. “Your feet’ll get cold.”

Buck wiggles his toes in the dewy lawn. “I’ll be okay.” When he looks back up Eddie has an expression on his face that he can’t quite read but has been frequently present, lately. And then there’s a laugh across the yard, and both turn to look. Tommy. Loud, and full of that kind of breathless, disbelieving joy that- well, Buck hadn’t really heard from him before recently.

“I don’t-” Eddie stops, and Buck watches out of the corner of his eye as he shakes his head, looks up at Buck. “How are you just okay with this?”

Buck tilts his head almost sideways as he turns back to look at him. “It’s true love, man. How could I be upset with that?”

Eddie doesn’t roll his eyes, but Buck can tell he wants to. “I don’t even know- if that even exists. You gotta- you work on it. Or… I don’t know. He just saw this fucking guy across a crowded bar, and, what, fucking bam, Cupid’s arrow?”

“There’s a little more history than that,” Buck protests, even though, yeah, that is kind of what happened. They’d been at a club over in WeHo and Tommy had stopped frozen-dead in his tracks on the way from the dance floor to the bar, staring with some combination of awe-fear-grief-anger-longing all over his face at some guy, around Tommy’s age or maybe a little older, sandwiched between two big jock types all grinding on each other, one of them sucking an impressive hickey onto his shoulder next to the strap of his tastefully tight tank top. Tommy had stumbled closer like a man bewitched, and had gasped out “Sal?” In a way that had made Buck think, Ah. Time’s up. He’d lingered a respectful distance back as the two of them had an intense little conversation, though the club was loud enough he probably wouldn’t have heard much if he’d come closer. And he went home with Tommy that night and sat on his bed as he’d paced around his little bedroom and talked about years shitty jokes and stupid, over performed masculinity, and wanting, and “-the last I heard he was fucking married, I’ve met Sandra, he has two kids-”, and when Tommy got a phone call the next day — an invitation to lunch, to talk — he’d looked at Buck and said “I’m so sorry- I’m so sorry, but I-” and Buck had kissed his cheek and said “Go.” And, now, not even quite three months later, a wedding. The whole 118 had been invited, and had gone mostly in solidarity to Buck, and everybody had been making a lot of meaningful eye contact over their drinks as he’d elbowed them to quit it.

“Dance with me.”

“What?” Buck blinks back to the present, feet in the grass, Eddie warm and close next to him.

“Dance with me, Buckley,” Eddie sighs, dramatic, petulant, a smile shining through his put upon attitude. He’s been cutting it up all night, spinning Karen around and around, dancing with Sal’s mostly cordial ex-wife and sisters and aunts and cousins. He even took Tommy for a turn at one point, while Buck had busied himself with downing whatever was in the glass Ravi handed him so he wouldn’t have to look at either of their faces.

“I’ll step on your toes,” Buck warns, turning fully towards him and vaguely holding up his hands for Eddie to do whatever it is that needs to happen to make the dancing start.

Eddie snorts, moves one of Buck’s hands to his shoulder and holds the other, and taps his shiny dress shoe very gently into Buck’s big toe. “Do your worst.”

Buck, historically, by any metric you care to measure by, is a terrible dancer. Bobby, who himself only manages the old man party shuffle, has looked on his lack of rhythm in abject despair. Eddie, though, Eddie can dance, and he does it so well it makes his dancing partner’s look good, too. They move through the grass halfway competently, movements kind-of smooth. Buck only feels polished leather under his feet once or twice. “You’re real good at this.”

Eddie nods as he pulls Buck into a little spin. “Took lessons, back in high school.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Mhm.” He’s staring at Buck’s shoulder. “Sophia had lessons I had to drive her to, one of the instructors mentioned classes for older kids.” He shrugs. “Seemed fun.”

“In high school?” Something about the question makes Eddie’s shoulders get a little tight, but he nods. “And you played baseball? Damn, I never knew how anybody could have multiple extra curriculars, I barely made every football practice as it is.”

Eddie shrugs again, eyes still fixed on rumpled cotton. “I liked it.” Step, step, step, spin. “Took Shannon a few times, but she didn’t really like the structure of it, just wanted to get to the dancing part.” A little smile. “You bet I gave her shit when she got a leg cramp line dancing one time. Shoulda stretched.”

Buck laughs. “Did you stretch before coming here?”

“Yeah.”

Buck laughs harder, throwing his head back. They’re far enough out of the city that there are stars in the sky, and he gets distracted looking up at them for a moment, finding any constellation he knows. When he looks back down Eddie’s staring at his shoulder again.

“I could dance because of the baseball,” he says, quiet. “Because… Shannon, and I played sports, and I… you know.” He looks up at Buck, eyes dark away from any bright light. “I could laugh it off. When people said it was gay. Because I wasn’t.”

“Oh,” Buck says. He doesn’t know what else to say, about the reminders of what high school was like in the aughts, or about the past tense. He thinks maybe he should apologize, but Eddie keeps talking.

“Not in like a- I wasn’t tortured about it. I didn’t even think about it. It was- that’s not- it wasn’t even a possibility.” His palm sweats against Buck’s and his other hand burning against his side, and still they keep dancing, never losing the beat of the song. “One time… Aaron Dewitt called me a… you know. And everybody just started laughing, because, like. Man. That’s Eddie, he was just making out with his girlfriend under the bleachers, what the fuck are you on about.” He smiles, all wrong, and the way his voice gets lighter isn’t very light at all. “All those guys were begging me for moves before senior prom.”

“Eddie-”

“Buck!” Tommy stumbles in from the side, not even waiting for Eddie to retreat so his arm ends up awkwardly trapped between them as he plasters himself to Buck, hands on either his side of his face. He’s had a lot of champagne tonight, as Buck thinks is his right, and it’s made him unsteady on his feet in a way he knows most other drinks don’t. It’s the sugar, he’d said once. Goes right to my head. “Buck.”

“Hi,” Buck laughs a little, smelling the drink on his breath. “Hey, Tommy.”

“I love you,” Tommy says, sincere and eyes watering. “Thank you for coming. Thank you for- for everything. I didn’t- I never thought I’d get to have this.”

Buck thinks that he’s practically glowing, has been all night, getting even more supernova bright every time his now-husband touches his arm or side or back or anywhere and smiles a private little smile at him. “I’m really glad you do, Tommy. Love you, too.”

Tommy kisses his cheek, a little slobbery. “We’re gonna leave now, but I just wanted to say bye. I hope you had a good time. Sorry for- or- thank you-”

“I had a wonderful time,” Buck says, releasing Tommy from drunkenly trying to find an end to that sentence. They’ve had some version of this conversation several times already, Tommy always guilty and happy in dizzying little circles, and Buck hopes he can bury the guilt in the soft dirt they’re standing on and go on to live with just the happiness. “Have a great night.”

“Yeah,” Tommy says, laughing and nodding. “Yeah. Bye, Buck.”

“Bye, Tommy.”

They watch him hurry back across the yard, falling into Sal’s arms with the easy confidence of someone who knows without a doubt that he’ll be caught. Eddie’s arm is still across Buck’s chest where it had been stuck.

“I know you’ve said you’re fine with it-”

“About a thousand times, yeah, to you and everybody else we know-”

“Come on, man.” Eddie shifts his arm a little, up, so he can grab and shake Buck’s shoulder. The angle they’re standing at has caught the light, and Eddie’s eyes are gold again. “It’s me. Are you okay with this?

Buck thinks about high school, and all the things he didn’t think about either right up until Tommy Kinard kissed him in the kitchen. He thinks about Hen’s sky high eyebrows when she heard the news, and her and Chimney’s stories about the bad old days and the kind of person Sal seemed to be. He thinks about change, and how much it can happen to a person and how quickly, and how you just have to trust, sometimes, that people have grown and learned. He thinks about Eddie, and things that are impossible, and dancing, and- he laughs, sudden and loud enough that Eddie startles, because, fuck. This is exactly how it happened in the club, too. Seeing someone you know like the back of your hand in a new light and- bam.

When the laughter calms in his throat, Buck looks down at Eddie. “Really, I swear I’m fine with it. I had a really nice time with Tommy. He was… kind, and safe, and patient. I really liked him- I really like him. I hope I keep getting, you know, Christmas cards or whatever. I’m really happy he got his romcom ending. I mean- I kind of wish it was with a guy who doesn’t seem so much like an asshole-” Buck grins as Eddie snorts, “-but, uh, Hen says judging your exes taste in men is, like, a gay right of passage or something, so.”

Eddie nods once, twice, and then his eyes get a little wide, the way they do when he’s being brave. “So then, what does it mean if I’m judging Tommy for you?”

“He’s your friend, too,” Buck protests past the way his heart is thudding in his chest, because Tommy deserves defending here, probably. He kicks softly at Eddie’s shin. “You came to the wedding, don’t-”

“You’re not my ex,” Eddie says. He steps backward, and again, and they’re dancing again. “So. Still a right of passage?”

Buck’s palms are sweating, now. “You’ve never liked my taste in women, either.”

Eddie makes an unconvincing noise of denial. “I… thought…”

“Yeah?” Buck raises an eyebrow, and Eddie’s face twitches with how hard he’s trying not to grin.

“That… Ali… was fine.”

Buck cackles, and Eddie pulls him in closer and laughs into his collarbone. “You were so judgy when she dumped me, are you kidding, your fucking stink face every time-”

“You’re not my ex,” Eddie says again, loud, getting them back on track, standing upright but not moving any further away. They’re pressed together chest to knee. “Buck.”

“Yeah?”

They spin in a slow circle. “I’m pretty good at dancing, and- probably not so good at baseball anymore, but- well I dunno, maybe. We could go to a batting cage sometime. Anyway.” Spin and spin. “I guess I… do think about it, now. I think about- and there were a lot of things I thought were impossible, and weren’t, really. And- and I’m not in high school, and…” They slow, and stop, and Buck thinks Eddie’s hands and eyes are, probably, the warmest things on the whole entire planet. “We could go home and I could wait till tomorrow to ask you to lunch to talk about things, but we’re both already here.”

Buck laughs, and wonders if anyone listening to him would hear a kind of breathless, disbelieving joy. “You wanna take me to lunch?”

“Mhm. I was thinking we could get sandwiches.”

Buck laughs, and laughs, almost falling over with it, but that’s fine. He knows Eddie will catch him.

[alchemistc]

Once again I need to get off my ass and go work but instead all I'm thinking about is Them:

Buck's mostly got his breathing under control by the time he hears the side door slide open, and he adjusts his weight automatically, tips his chin as he straightens his spine, tugs at the bottom of his suit jacket like that will fix the wrinkles he'd made bending at the waist for the last ten minutes.

"Buck?"

He's turned away, thank god, so Tommy can't see the wince.

"I'm fine," he says, annoyed with himself and the world at large when it comes out wobbly. "Go back ins-." When he hears the door click shut again he takes a moment to hope Tommy's just left, again, but -

No such luck.

"That door locks from the inside," Buck murmurs, and tears his gaze away from the gentle expression on Tommy's face. There'd been a cardboard box wedged up in there by whatever line cook had been out here smoking when Buck burst through the doors, and the guy had left it with a warning about how insanely large this building was and how few doors along its perimeter were unlocked, and now the broken down box is somewhere beneath Tommy's left foot.

Tommy tries the door anyway.

It doesn't budge. "We could just call Eddie," Tommy says, and Buck feels the ire rise in his throat.

"Eddie's not here," he spits, and it feels like a knife under the ribs. Everyone fucking leaves, eventually. "Call your date, if you want. I'm walking."

Buck heaves himself up from his lean against the brick, takes two large strides to make it past Tommy and keeps going.

He should have known better than taking Bobby at his word that this stupid gala would be worth his time. So far he's dodged conversations about the curse of the 118, spent an unbearable five minutes smiling blandly at Gerrard before he could excuse himself, and tossed two numbers written on raffle tickets into the trash in his mad dash through the kitchens because apparently Tommy had been chosen as the rep for 217 and he looks fucking good in his suit, and he'd been pretty sure they'd be spending this Christmas together, until last month.

He's twenty yards down the alley when he hears footsteps catching up to him. Light, brisk - he's jogging to catch up and Buck doesn't want to deal with -

"Not my date," Tommy says, and Buck curses his own body for automatically slowing to allow him to catch up.

Buck snorts. "Okay." The guy was older - than Buck, at least. Grey around his temples, fat lips and clever eyes that caught Tommy's mid-sentence and sent them both into quiet hysterics.

"Buck, would you just -."

He's close enough to reach for Buck's arm, so Buck wrenches it away before he can make contact. "Don't call me that."

December twenty-third is one of those weird days where the world doesn't quite work the same. Traffic is heavier or lighter in weird places, people with nothing to do wander the streets or hole up in their homes making too much food and watching weird holiday movies, and even in LA it gets chilly enough at night to need a jacket. This one isn't doing shit to keep Buck warm, but the anger catching in his throat sure is.

"It's your name," Tommy says, exasperated.

"Not to you." Buck stops dead in his tracks, watches Tommy take another three steps before he realizes he's alone. When he turns, Buck doesn't allow himself to turn away from his gaze. Annoyance isn't a new look - Buck has tested the waters enough in six months to know intimately exactly how far he could push it before Tommy stopped indulging him.

He looks upset. Frustrated. Tired. Hot as fuck. Buck sort of wishes he'd do something about those first two.

Something other than walk away.

Tommy sighs. Runs a hand through his hair, and the sides aren't as high and tight anymore. There's a piece curling over the tip of his ear and Buck wants to tug at it, slide his fingers in there and tuck it back. "That was Sal," he says, and Buck flicks through the sadly small Rolodex of names Tommy has mentioned in the past. Another boundary Buck hadn't realized was a brick fucking wall in the way of getting to know his boyfriend.

Ex.

Sal. He'd been at the 118 with Gerrard, in the early days. Before Chim and Hen, before Bobby. He'd been the one to prompt Tommy into filing a complaint against Gerrard even though he'd been scared out of his mind to do it.

"I don't care."

He does care, is the problem. He cares so much. He's got a pile of fruit cakes and half a dozen pies sitting on his kitchen island right now that prove it. He can't seem to stop caring.

Tommy looks sceptical.

Buck brushes past him again, keeping his strides long. Tommy's the same height, but both literally and metaphorically he's always struggled to keep up when Buck had somewhere to be.

At least the panic attack has passed. Maybe he could take up running, as a cure all, instead of the weak ass recovery period he usually takes that involves him drinking a bottle of water and staring at the same spot on the wall until he sees stars.

So, fine. Tommy hadn't brought a date to the work function it was entirely possible Buck would be at six weeks after breaking up with him and disappearing into the damn wind. He'd bubbled Buck seven times that Buck knew of, and he hadn't brought a date.

Fine.

"I just wanted to make sure you were alright. You looked -."

Buck had watched Tommy wheeze with laughter and curl a hand around the dudes - Sal's - wrist and he'd felt like maybe he was gonna throw up. Like six months and the something he'd been working his way up to defining hadn't meant a damn thing. Like Tommy could just move on like he seemed to think Buck could.

"Doing great, Tommy. My best friend is moving to Texas and the man I thought I could -." Buck clears his throat. Shuffles sideways just a bit because Tommy is keeping pace now and his cologne is familiar and devastating. He doesn't have anything inside. Once he rounds this corner he could just order an Uber and go home.

There's nothing keeping him here.

"Eddie's moving?"

The no contact thing had extended to everyone at the 118, apparently. At least Buck wasn't alone in that.

Buck digs out his phone, slows his pace just enough to pull up the app he needs. He can feel Tommy's eyes burning a hole in the side of his head.

"Yeah, well. I'm getting used to people leaving at this point," he says, filling it with as much ire as he can. His voice doesn't wobble this time.

"Buck."

It's soft, this time, same inflection as when he'd cage Buck against a counter and lick into his mouth. "Don't worry about me, Tommy. You made it a point not to."

"That's not fair."

Buck couldn't care less. He's spent six weeks on a depression baking spiral and now he wants to go home and destroy every bit of baked goods he's made that are still left.

It only takes a few taps. They're surging prices, but that's not exactly a shocker.

He'd really thought the next time he saw Tommy he'd just be sad. Maybe he'd feel a little wistful about all the moments they'd shared that had meant something to Buck even if they hadn't meant the same to Tommy.

He wants to swing a fist, if he's being honest. He wouldn't. Not ever. But the desire is there and he hates it.

"Buck, could we just -."

"Stop calling me that!"

"I pay a mortgage, Evan!"

Buck can't remember Tommy ever raising his voice. It's - weird.

"I'm forty years old and I own a house and you asked me to move in to your loft after you told me you admired me." The emphasis isn't lost on him.

His ride is three minutes away.

"I got it the first time, Tommy. Haven't sucked enough cocks or done enough tests to know what I really want, so. Go enjoy your evening with Sal and -."

"That is not what I said." Cool, calm. Infuriating.

"Well that's what I got from it, so clearly we were never on the same page. I wanted a future with you and you've been eyeing the expiration date the whole time so -."

He's definitely not expecting Tommy's lips. But there they are, on his, and Buck's stumbling back, fully expecting the sharp crack of the brick at the back of his head as Tommy surges forward with him, only Tommy's hand curls around his skull at the last second and takes the brunt of the landing. His mouth opens on a groan and Buck licks up into it. Their noses clash and rather than shifting for better positioning they just press closer. Tommy's free hand finds the soft give of Buck's waist and his thigh finds purchase between Buck's legs and -

"You're willfully misunderstanding me," Tommy says, lips on Buck's jaw, heart pounding under Buck's hand, his breath ghosting along Buck's cheek.

"Never really gave me the opportunity for clarity," Buck bites back, and Tommy huffs, rolls his hips, tucks his forehead into the juncture of Buck's shoulder.

His pulse is pounding in his ears and there's a cloud of Tommy Tommy Tommy obscuring his senses.

"Do you still want that?"

Buck's phone dings in his hand.

His ride is here.

"Not if you're just gonna walk away again," Buck bites out, and shoves. Hard.

It barely moves Tommy, but it's enough to slip out of his grasp.

He doesn't glance behind to see if Tommy follows as he pulls at his suit jacket again and rounds the corner to try to catch - he eyes his phone - Sheri before she cancels the ride on him.

Doesn't stop him from hearing the footfalls behind him while he searches out the blue Honda Civic.

[0yuri-chan0]

~ Don't leave me ~

Wait.. Wait Sally Face fandom isn't dead? YES! No, because I love sally face like he a murderer but hes my murderer 💅 So you guys like demolished Levi Ackerman and I'm not mad about it. I know this is basic but he's gonna show you his face for the first time. Fluff with a pinch of romance because y'all eat that shit up anyways no more ranting. Enjoy!!

Paring - Sal Fisher (Sally face) x Gn reader

Warnings - None

Genre - Fluff

Yes it was true you and Sal knew eachother for the longest. It also wasn't a secret to the group you liked Sal, well everyone knew. I mean who wouldn't fall hard for the blue haired boy he was sweet and gentle, caring, selfless. Basically near definition of perfect in your eyes. But in his, not so much he didn't see himself like you saw him. He knew he fit the description of a kind soul but definitely not a beautiful one. It was all because of his face, sure you never saw it only Larry, Ash, and Todd had. And if your honest it bugged you a lot, not just because he didn't show you his face no, no, no not that. It was the feeling that he didn't trust you enough to do so. The feeling of sadness that washed over you every time you thought about it. He told you before that it was a hard topic for him to talk about. And you respected that; you really did, it just confused you why you hadn't seen it in all the years of knowing Sal Fisher. So of course you had to find out.

It was a normal day, well not so normal Larry couldn't hang out with you and Sal because he was with Ash at the towns oh so very small mall. Todd said he couldn't hang out because he had a science project which was fine before, you and Sal would hang out all the time doing whatever without the gang. You didn't know why this time was any different. It was awkward you both sitting in his room watching TV as gizmo layed on the bed next to you. Sal on your other side playing on his gear boy. You couldn't help but look at him stealing a couple of glances his way.

Not wanting to get caught staring at him like so many times before. You averted your gaze back to the TV. Now acting like nothing was wrong, it was eating at you and on top of that you didn't think he'd trusted you to show his face. You usually were a outgoing person, a person who voices their concerns. Being quiet was unusual for you and of course Sal noticed, I mean if he did he didn't say anything. You couldn't just blurt out "Sal why don't you show me your face? Do you not trust me?" That would make him anxious and you didn't want to do that to him. I mean who would do that do him? Not you. You looked back at him playing his gear boy. His long slender fingers pressing buttons skillfully might you add. A soft sigh escaping your lips. Trying to hype yourself up to ask him or at least express your feelings. Basically in that moment you were trying to grow a pair as fast as you could.

You opened your mouth and closed it. You needed something to say it could be like 'Sal I need to ask you something' then ease you way into telling him. That was your best option and only option, so you really didn't have a choice. "Sal." You called his name in a soft manner. He only hummed in response not looking away from his gear boy. "Why don't.. Am I the only one who hasn't seen you're face, Sally?" His fingers stop moving in result his character died. His screen showing a red 'Game Over' his head turned to you his eyes focussed on yours.

Did you mess up? Maybe but you really can't think at the moment. You turned your gaze to the floor and exited a deep breath through your nostrils. "What I mean is like. I feel like.. I know I'm. Probably the last to see your face in the gang and I know it takes a lot of trust to let me see it." And there you go, you were rambling nervously because he was looking at you. Your stomach doing flips and heart beating so fast it might give you a heart attack. "You want too see it.. My face?" Now those seven words stopped you from talking. Lifting your head up you looked him in his one good eye the other a prothsic. You nodded your head slowly. "I don't want to force you to show me your face. I want you to be positive you want to." You started picking at your hang skin on your pointer finger. "I want to" Was all he said before he uncliped both the buckles. He held the mask up on his face with his hand and looked down. The gear boy clearly discarded on the bed.

"Don't be scared of me [Y/n]" He said in a shaking voice already very nervous. You sat on your knees facing him on the bed you raised your hand slowly hooking your fingers under his mask. Your pace slow giving him time to pull away if he wanted. He didn't "I would never be scared of you Sal. Your my best fucking friend." He let out a sharp breath when you lifted his mask. His heart was pounding his plams sweaty. He quickly grabbed your wrist with his free hand. "Promise me you won't leave me.." His voice wavered while he spoke. Your gaze soften and a pleasant, calming smile appeared on your face. "I wouldn't dream of it." You truly did love Sal. You looked him into this eyes while he retracted both of his hands back to his side.

You slowly pulled his prosthetic away from his face. Once you saw his face your grip tightened on the plastic mask. His face had a lot of scarring. His nose was deformed as well as his jaw. His jaw was crooked his cheek torn showing some of his top teeth. You could tell chunks of meat were removed from his cheeks. You could clearly tell his left eye was a prosthetic, it being more dull and only staring straight ahead instead of looking at the ground like his other eye was. You brought your hand to his cheek gently. His flinched soon his eyes finally meeting yours. "You're beautiful.." Was all you could say your thumb stroking his cheek gliding over his scars gently. Tears falling from his eyes with ease his hand grabbing your wrist once more. "You really mean that?" He asked in disbelief once you muttered out those two words.

You nodded and leaned forward your lips connecting with a bit of difficulty. You knew this man was touched starved so you let him get use to it. His lips were kinda chapted and the kiss was kinda clumsy but it felt so good at the same time. You felt him visibly relax as you pulled away with a small smile on your face only to be pulled back by his hands behind your neck reconnecting your lips to his. The kiss got more desperate, and more needy.

You finally pulled away with a airy chuckle. "I mean it." He smiled it honestly amazed you how you never saw him smile but it was better then you imagine. "I want... Will you be lover?" You grin and kissed his forehead. "You don't know how long I've been waiting to hear those words." He laughed and grabbed your waist pulling you closer to him. "How long?" He said with a raised brow. "Too long" you mused and kissed him again.

At least you finally know what's under the mask and its beautiful...

Its finished! I had a hard time with this for no reason. Thank you for reading. I have another problem the you guys can solve 🙏 I have no clue what to write next so my request are open to you! Please use it 👀

[salllzy]

Sal's ramblings #3

Another bunny from the pile and it is only going to get worse, my brain is going a million miles a minute and I am trying to work on a chapter. So here it is. ------- Alastor is an omega and he doesn't hide it, he simply doesn't tell anyone what he is. If the other citizens of Hell wrongly assume that he is an alpha? Then that is on them. But while he doesn't hide it, he also isn't shouting it from the rooftops. Omegas in Hell are nonexistent after all, Alastor hadn't met any other omegas but he knew that Heaven tended to snatch any and all omegas up to stop Hell from having packs, Which in his humble opinion is stupid. The same as Heaven believed that Hell is an uprising, oh, they were in their own way. Rebelling against God and what the creator had planned for them and thanks to Lucifer, breaking free of the chains that had cruelly been wrapped around them.

As far as Alastor was concerned what Lucifer did was a blessing. If people choose to squander their chance in life, then that is up to them to decide. No one else. But just because Alastor respected Lucifer to a degree it didn't mean that he liked or tolerated the King of Hell. Far from it. He thought that Lucifer was a deadbeat dad who didn't deserve Charlie, Charlie who had begun to patch his broken heart.

Charlie reminded him of his daughter that he had lost, long ago. She had been snatched in the middle of the night. Truthfully, she wasn't his by blood. He had found her when he had been burying one of his victims, a disgusting piece of filth that had deserved what he had got. Alastor had found him preying on children and well, Alastor didn't tolerate anyone who targeted those of fairer means. But that didn't mean that women were off the table. They weren't he had killed more than one abusive wife and mother. And he would continue to do so. But he was getting off-topic. He had found the little fawn wandering around his bayou, the little thing had been crying and calling for her mother. For a split second he wondered if he had been the one to kill her mother, he had quickly pushed the thought from his mind.

Instead, he had picked her up and cleaned her dirt-covered face, only to find himself staring into strange gold eyes. Despite not having the best father and his mother was long since dead. He had done his best to help her. He had asked around and put a report in with the police, which had been a risky move given his hobbies. Unfortunately for Charlotte but fortunately for him, they were unable to find her parents. So he had adopted the fawn, given her his last name DeCoux and he had raised her as best as he could.

Shortly before his death someone had broken into their home and had taken Charlotte from her bed, he had done everything in his power to try and find her. Only to fail. Something had died inside him that day. Then he had been shot shortly afterwards and he had briefly wondered if he would see his daughter again, that perhaps if someone was kind enough he would find her in whatever afterlife awaited him. Sadly it hadn't happened. So he had slapped bloody bandages on his heart and didn't let anyone in, Rosie, Niffty and Zestial were the exceptions. And after the disaster that was his relationship with Vox, he had no desire to acquire more friends. So naturally when he saw Charlie's disastrous interview he had decided that he would lend her his aid. After all, there was nothing like free entertainment. He just hadn't expected the King of Hell to turn up.

Logically he knew that at some point he would, he was Charlie's father after all.

But then somehow, he had a suspicion as to who had leaked the information, it was revealed that he was an omega. Suddenly he had lines of suitors at the door of the hotel, suitors that he didn't want. He had to be careful who he killed, the last thing he wanted to do was create a power vacuum in an already unstable Hell and Hell was unstable. The moment it had been revealed, Hell had gone rabid. The only omega in Hell? And single as well? It was every alpha's wet dream. Eventually, Lucifer proposed that Alastor faked a relationship, with someone of power and standing. It would be the only way to get them off his back and with the amount of mass murder that Alastor had been doing? Well, it was sending a message but not the one he wanted to send. All it was doing was making it look like he was something to be tamed, a vicious animal that needed to be domesticated and not as the warning it was meant to be. Naturally, Lucifer had volunteered himself. After all, there was no one stronger than him or had a position higher than the King of Hell.

But what Alastor didn't know, was that it was a trap, one that Lucifer had designed himself. It had been him who had leaked the information about Alastor being an omega to hell.

Alastor was cunning and wily, he would never let himself be trapped in a deal, so Lucifer had to use other means. Alastor already belonged to him after all, they had a daughter together.

Not that Alator knew that Charlie was Charlotte, Lucifer had told Charlie that it was important that no one knew her full name. At the time he had told her that it was because names had power and it was true they did. But he didn't want Alastor to find Charlie. At least not until Lucifer was ready for him. His first step had been to get rid of Lilith, she had proven that she was an unfit mother and Lucifer wasn't going to allow her anywhere near Charlie. Lilith had forgotten that while he was the King of Hell now, he was still an angel and that came with all of the instincts and behaviours that came with being an angel. Which included getting rid of any threats to their flock. Which Lilith now was. He had scattered her bones all across Hell and made sure that she would never be able to regenerate. Sadly by the time he had dealt with Lilith, the mortal that had taken such good care of Charlie had died. Lucifer knew that he would need to find this Alastor that Charlie was so attached to. However, he hadn't counted on it taking nearly a century to do so. He had to admit that the sinner was devious and clever, especially since Alastor had been able to escape him time and time again. But not this time. Lucifer wasn't going to let him go this time.

[ryverbind]

Faceless Fixation (Sal Fisher): Beg For It [21]

TW: smut :P

_______________

dacnorthxx started following you.

sallysusedtoiletpaper: VI WHO IS THIS WHO IS NORTH WHY IS THIS INTERACTION GIVING ME LIFE??? t0ddles2: @sallysusedtoiletpaper frontman of dark autumn complex sallysusedtoiletpaper: @t0ddles2 oh omg ok... I've never heard of them are they any good?? ashypoops: I haven't heard of them either. What genre? More importantly DOES VI HAVE HER VERY FIRST SHIP toodswithoutthed: @ashypoops I WAS ABOUT TO ASK BC THE CHEMISTRY!?!? they're obsessed w each other... I went stalk his profile. Ship name options: northlence, violeth... t0ddles2: they're rock/metal. even if u don't like the genre, they're worth a listen sallysusedtoiletpaper: WORD I just followed him and their band account >:3 also @toodswithoutthed I'm personally a fan of violeth. I'm linking this shit in the faces fan discord ashypoops: THERE'S A FAN DISCORD??? can u send me an invite pooks🥺 sallysusedtoiletpaper: @ashypoops ofc😘 sallysusedtoiletpaper: OMFG SOMEONE BEAT ME TO THE CHAT EVERYONE KNOWS NOOOOOO

———

Yea, so I lost my job. Big shocker.

Once my boss found out that I dipped mid-shift, the text was typed out and sent by the evening.

In any other situation, I'd be fucked. Indefinitely. Completely broke and flailing to get a new job. In fact, that was my first thought. As soon as I got the text, I clicked onto my bank account to check how much I'd have to live off of until I found a new job--

--only to find out that I had over $2,000 just sitting around, which was such a nice surprise. I don't think I've ever had so much money to my name before in my entire life. And all the transactions were straight from all my streaming apps. All within the past two weeks since being back in LA.

To say the least, losing my job couldn't have happened at a better time. Now, I can put my focus into something I actually enjoy doing.

But first, a trip to Nockfell, which is proving to be more chaotic by the second.

"Todd, dude, there's a chemistry to this thing, okay? It's a ritual," Larry says, all seriousness and business face as he stares back into Todd's uninterested gaze. "I can't fly without it."

Todd blinks, a flash of frustrated disappointment crossing over his features. "You're not taking an edible before the flight, Lartholomew."

Ash had a ticket ready for me before she even got to LA yesterday. Her entire mastermind plan was to abduct me whether I liked it or not-- not that I would've said no to begin with. And besides, having her at the apartment to help me pack last minute made pre-flight stress non-existent.

Travis is camping out at my apartment. He was more than happy to kick me out of my own house, claiming that my bed is comfiest anyway. Regardless, he said he had no desire to return to Nockfell anyway. And dad was just excited for me to go visit considering how much I've complained about missing the little town over all these years.

Sal and I haven't spoken since his last commanding text to me. Right before his very sudden face reveal. He's caught in an almost petrifying silence-- has been since he put his prosthetic back on. I, on the other hand, very much resemble a little puppy whimpering and begging at his feet. Metaphorically, of course. I wouldn't dare to physically exploit my internal thoughts.

The really sickening truth is that I'm so desperate to see his face again that I'd trip him down a flight of stairs just to recreate yesterday's scene.

Just kidding. I don't mean that. I definitely don't.

"All our seats are kind of screwed up, so I have no idea where you're sitting, sugar." Ash pokes my cheek, her chin in her palm and elbow propped on the armrest of her seat. "I bought them kind of last minute so I took whatever they had available."

A little smile tips my lips as I turn my attention away from the grumpy smurf and focus on my stunning best friend. Her viridian irises glow with renewed joy and energy like our plans check off so many bullet points on her bucket list. "That's okay," I reply, tilting my head. "At least we actually have seats, right?"

Ash grins, her maroon shaded lips accentuating the light freckles along the bridge of her nose. "See?" she chirps, arm winding through mine to pull me closer. "You get it. When do you not get it?"

Our plane calls for us to board, and so begins the toxic, anxiety-inducing split-up of the century. I lose all The Faces somewhere in the crowded line that gathers at our gate in just a matter of seconds. That's okay though, I'll probably end up sitting with some old lady that smells like an odd mixture of peonies, Dial soap, and Lysol. You know, a funeral home and two colds away from death. So long as she's nice, I'll catch her dentures when they fall out of her gaping mouth as she naps.

Anything for MawMaw.

I hobble my way into the plane, brain set on finding my seat before stressing about all other one hundred and fifty two things I have to worry about later. People are everywhere and it's, expectedly, a huge plane. Three rows-- two seaters against each wall and a row of three seats down the middle. Sickening, really. Social anxiety's worst enemy is looking for means of escape only to be met by even more people.

I block everyone out as best as I can, pretending that the people I bump into are just very dense pieces of furniture. Or, actually, even better-- a bunch of really buff kitties. Yep, just passing through a horde of Maine Coon's and Munchkin's.

I spot row F, my pupils zeroing in on the letter like a scope on a gun. Target acquired.

The majestic way I veer around what my mind imagines is a really tall Siamese and their spouse, a yellow Persian, is something that the directors of The Matrix are pissed that they couldn't come up with. I swing my foot around a figurative pair of paws and reach my free hand out to grip onto my seat-- F20. That's right bitches, I did it.

I swing my suitcase up, somehow managing to actually get it into the overhead compartment. I give it a good shove with both of my hands and a grunt, then pull the backpack off my shoulders to keep it at my feet when I sit down.

But now that I've stopped, cats are pushing past me and it's so aggressive and rushed that they suddenly aren't sweet, fluffy kitties anymore. They're people again and I'm starting to get dragged away from my seat by this sea of shared distress.

Nimble fingers latch onto my wrist from the seat beside mine-- the seat against the window. The hand tightens around me, giving my body a good yank forward. I use the aided force to weave my way around a few more people up until the hand pulls me into my seat.

I huff out a breath, pushing my hair out of the eyeholes of my mask. And begrudgingly, I turn my head to meet bright cerulean hair.

Sal isn't looking at me, he's facing the window. His entire stature gives off a mixture of unbothered and ashamed. He shouldn't feel that second one-- never. Granted, he shouldn't feel angry half as much as he does but that's besides the point.

Ever since it happened, I could tell that the abrupt exposure of his face has been heavily weighing on him. I don't owe this man a single thing-- he's been awful to me in so many ways, but I give credit where credit is due. Not only did he own up and apologize to me yesterday, he helped me to my seat... and he is handsome. Regardless of how he views himself.

He's my biggest enemy and I, his. But if I plan on getting fucked during my visit to Nockfell, I have to give him the Beating of Truth.

"So," I mumble, chewing on the inside of my cheek. If you couldn't tell, I'm absolutely forcing myself to do this even though it's the last thing I want to do. "How are we working around Ash, Larry, and Todd when we get to Nockfell?"

Sal's head tips up a bit, like he's wondering to himself if I actually just spoke to him. Then his head pivots sideways so that he can side-eye me.

"What?" He asks, voice genuinely shocked and confused. It makes my heart stutter a bit. Any time he speaks in a tone that isn't aggressive, it completely reboots my system.

"How are we going to follow through with this arrangement?" I try again, simplifying it into Sal terms. He has a wide vocabulary range; maybe using bigger words will snap some sense into him. For added effect, I lean onto the armrest separating him and I, trying to show that he doesn't repulse me or anything of the sort.

Sal doesn't move away, instead, he adjusts his body so that he can address me. Fully turns his prosthetic face to me and settles into his seat. I didn't realize how tense he was when I first sat down, but watching him relax now shows me how much my simple mention of our agreement settled his mental turmoil.

He's quiet for a moment, eyes dancing across my mask and body before his gaze meets mine again. "You still want to?" he finally decides to ask, eyebrows lifting beneath his prosthetic.

"Yea," I snort, scrunching my nose up as if his question is ridiculous. "Why wouldn't I?"

Okay, stupid question. I know the answer and the words came out before I could stop them. In more ways than others, that was a genuine response though. I can't accept that Sal would be so put off by his own appearance because I truly think it's so lovely. I have to remember though that not everyone sees themselves the way I see them though.

Sal's brows bunch together again, his eyes narrowing. "Stupid fucking question," he echoes my own thoughts, voice even and void of tone. Whoopsie.

I roll my own eyes, sighing. "Well, to settle the whole debacle," I start, aiming to just bite the bullet and extinguish the awkwardness and misplaced fear vibrating between us. "I think you're quite the catch."

Friendly banter is weird. Borderline uncomfortable, but... not quite. Just so that I'm ready to get this over with but I'd be prepared for it to happen again.

A nasally snort leaves Sal and he rotates his head so that he's facing the pair of seats in front of us.

"So," he prods, ignoring my statement. "North?"

Mission success. I know he'll never admit it and he doesn't need to, but I think he appreciates the compliment.

"What's it to you?" I counter, adjusting my position in turn. I sit criss-cross applesauce in my seat, making sure my feet don't touch Sal because God forbid. "You still get to fuck me."

"Not much," he says lowly, hand moving to ruffle up his fringe. There's that dagger tattoo again. And then his head tilts just a bit, haunting sapphire blue piercing straight through my soul like the weapon etched onto his skin. "But you're mine. North can't give you even an ounce of what I can."

Fuzzy fingers, a pounding heart, and the worst case of cold sweats possible dominates my body for the rest of the flight. My brain replays that statement over and over again, plaguing me with recurring physical reactions like I've just heard it in real life again. I wish he hadn't said anything at all if it was going to leave me like this.

Neither of us said another word. The only sound between the two of us was the constant cracking of my knuckles accompanied by me putting my feet on the ground-- then sitting criss-cross again-- then having to readjust again and again and again. He left me quite literally restless and I'm sure he's relishing in just the knowledge of it.

Landing in Nockfell was a quick divergence from bubbly hearted affliction in my being. A good distraction from Sal.

Perpetual autumn. Nockfell never gets too hot or cold. The air is always misty, the sky always grey and cloudy. Tall, ever-growing trees dominate both night and day, stealing all the light from the sun and hiding it in their leafy treetops. Nockfell houses the kind of atmosphere that I've dreamt of returning to for years now; the gentle eeriness and chill that I've longed to bask in ever since I left.

We step out of the airport and into the small parking lot where a suspiciously blue haired man is waving at us with a big, dad-like grin on his face. Not a question in my mind. That's Sal's dad-- the cropped, receding cerulean hair was the first obvious sign but as we grow closer, his bright azure eyes are the second giveaway.

"Wassup, daddio!" Larry exclaims, wrapping Sal's father up in a huge bear hug (which is so Emo Buff Daddy of him). I nearly forgot that Sal's dad, who I now know as Henry, is also Larry's step-dad. Crazy.

"Not much, big guy!" Henry chuckles, rubbing Larry's back affectionately once the hug comes to an end. He pats Larry's shoulder, that big smile still on his aged face. "You guys brought the friend back! Convinced her to come huff up our humid air?"

Henry moves over to Ash, Todd, and then Sal to hug all of them. He purposefully places a discreet kiss on top of Sal's head before turning to me.

He holds his arms open suggestively and my heart flutters. "You okay with hugs?" He asks me. "Everyone's family here."

A grin of my own sneaks onto my face as I take a little step toward Henry and wrap my arms around his middle.

Henry's arms latch around my body, shielding me from the moist, heavy air of Nockfell and anything else that could possibly hurt me here. His embrace is so comforting, so familiar, so protective that tears I've been holding back for weeks suddenly rush to the surface.

I love my own dad, he's perfect, but being hugged by his near doppelgänger reminds me of how much I miss him. I wish dad and I weren't apart so often. But that'll change soon with the money I'm making.

I don't allow myself to weep, I hide the tears and pull away from the comforting hug I needed so desperately to smile sweetly at Henry. Lovely man, his own smile widens.

The group of us piles into Henry's old 2000 Nissan Pathfinder to navigate around Nockfell.

We first stop at Ash's place-- a home I haven't seen in a decade now. Everything is so nostalgic-- the tall, two story, white-painted, wooden home and the canopy of evil-looking trees that hide it from the road reminds me of a time that's been ripped away from me.

Ash leans on the door of Henry's SUV, the window down for her to speak to me before she disappears. "I'll come by Sal's or the apartments later to scoop you up, 'kay? Parents and I have a meeting with some guys to transfer ownership of some things to me before the move." She chews on her lip, a deep yearning in her pretty eyes. "I'd let you stay with me if I could."

I shake my head at her-- I don't want her to feel guilty for handling business. "No that's okay." I tell her sweetly, grabbing onto her hand. "I'll kickback with the guys."

Ash smiles, squeezing my hand in hers before breaking off to head to her house.

Now, I never imagined I'd end up coming back to Nockfell in general, but to stand in Sal Fisher's home? These were even more improbable odds.

And worse, Todd suddenly slips out of the house with the very mean (he's ditching me!) excuse of meeting with Neil for a late lunch. That just leaves me, Larry, and Sal standing in the spacious kitchen of their shared two-story home. It's quaint, roomy, and pretty nice. I imagine it's kept up specifically because Sal tends to it.

And Sal, he doesn't say anything. Which is typical behavior from him. He only, swiftly, spins on his heels, luggage in hand, and disappears into a room right past the stairs. Okay, fair. It's late in the afternoon-- naptime.

And now it's down to two.

I look to Larry with a grin. And he's grinning back excitedly, wiggling around like an antsy child who's about to go on a field trip.

"I can't believe we managed to get you over here," he whisper-yells, screaming silently. You know, just open-mouthed and head tipped to the ceiling in pure excitement.

"Even Copernicus wouldn't be able to debunk this turn of events," I joke, watching Larry dance around his kitchen. I put my bags down. I'm sure we'll figure out this situation later when Ash returns.

Larry opens up his refrigerator, moving around some bottles before uttering an expletive. "Ah, fuck," he hisses out, quickly lifting his head which results in him slamming said head into the freezer door. I pause, wincing, eyeing his silhouette warily while awaiting whatever he has to say next.

He resurfaces from the fridge, rubbing his aching head and chewing on his bottom lip. "I left my fucking bags in Henry's car." He curses again, glancing up at me with agitated eyes. "I have to run over to the apartments real quick." Larry starts inching away from the fridge and I feel my heart leap. How could he forget his luggage in the car? And is he really about to leave me here with the master of aggressive seduction himself? We're bound to tear this house apart either via sex or a physical fight. I just don't know which one.

"I'll be like... ten minutes at most," Lar says, squeezing past me and around the kitchen table, rerouting to the front door. He gives me a look that screams vulnerability and urgency. "Please don't kill Sal, and don't let him kill you. Okay? I'll be back in a jiffy."

I blink at him, running my tongue along the inside of my dry mouth. This is not going to go well. "Okay," I say anyway. I can already see the headline on the newspaper-- 'Masked Streamer, Sally Face, Brutally Murders and Chops Up Rising Streamer, VioletViolence, With Kitchen Knife.'

Larry nods at me, pinches his lips together in a moment of concerned hesitation, then disappears through the front door.

I stand in the empty kitchen for a moment, watching the back of Larry's head through the front door window. "In a jiffy..." I murmur to myself, recalling the most soccer-mom words I've ever heard come from Larry's vicinity. It was so odd, I mean he would never say something like that, but here we are.

The house is empty aside from myself and Sal. What the hell am I supposed to do? Watch The Office?-- well, that actually doesn't sound bad at all.

I can literally do anything I want, though. I have been given the most opportune opportunity to act upon my will as I see fit. With that in mind accompanied by the suspiciously good conversation a certain blue-haired individual and I shared on the plane, I think I have an idea of what I could do. And I know I'll have a willing partner. 

This will either end in a homicide via kitchen knife or an orgasm. I'll take my chances.

A sly little grin fights its way onto my lips as I spin on my heels, trekking over to Sal's room. His door is closed, giving him an ample amount of darkness to hide in while gaming or sleeping or whatever he's doing. But for me, it's the ample amount of darkness to create a moody setting. It's perfect.

The cold, metal doorknob sits comfortably in the palm of my hand as I give myself one last chance to think about this. I really shouldn't do this, but the timing will never be this good again. With everyone moving to LA, I may never get a chance this convenient since someone will always be around.

That's the last little bit of encouragement I need to twist the knob and slowly push the plain, white painted door open.

The wood squeaks on its hinges, making Sal turn his head up from his PC. His dark, shadowed eyes meet mine. They go from curious to a bit miffed in half a second— but he doesn't say anything, really just ignores me and turns back to his setup.

My heart races. He didn't turn me away or tell me to get the fuck out of his room. That's a good start. But that also means I can actually follow through with my very sudden plan— a plan which has no plan. I didn't even brainstorm what I could do because I genuinely didn't think I'd get this far.

I watch him closely, noting the way his computer casts a cool, blue glow against his prosthetic. His hand moves the mouse around and he clicks on various things, really paying me no mind at all.

My teeth clamp onto my bottom lip as I step past the threshold of his room, grabbing hold of the door and slowly closing it behind me. Once it latches into place, I wait, simply observing the man with my back to the door. For good measure, I turn the lock. You know, just in case I manage to get somewhere.

And he still doesn't look my way. The fact that he's ignoring my presence right now makes anticipation build up within me. My heart thumps a little faster than it already has been. My cheeks feel warm, I can't keep my hands still. It's like my brain is kicked into overdrive, forcing me to take notice of every little thing.

I lick my lips and take a step forward, scratching at the skin on my knuckles. I take another step, then another, my body growing warm with anxiousness all because I may stand in front of this man, present myself to him, and come to regret it. I really might embarrass myself. Just because we agreed doesn't mean he wants me at this exact moment.

But before I'm even really prepared, I'm standing right beside him. And he's sitting there without a care in the world, comfortably propped up in his gaming chair and pulling up different comments on what looks to be YouTube.

I've done about all I can for right now, but we are on limited time. So I watch him for a moment. He has to know I'm right here— I wasn't quiet, I didn't avoid his field of vision. I'm right here.

And I still get nothing.

Time to think. Should I say something insulting? That usually gets him riled up. Maybe then, one thing will lead to another.

I bounce on my heels for a second as I think up a quick insult. "Is this how you waste your time? Figured you'd at least reply to some of your fans if you were going to read their comments. Kinda shitty of you." Low blow probably. I don't really mean it, but I'm sure he'll take it seriously. His fans mean a lot to him, it's the best way to gain his attention.

But Sal doesn't even react, only scrolls through a few replies under a comment and clicks 'like' on a some. He doesn't flinch. Doesn't look at me. Never makes a sound.

I roll my eyes. Playing hard to get are we? He fusses at me for not complying all the time— he's such a hypocritical asshole. I hate that I'm into it.

I swallow thickly, putting my hands behind my back to try and hide my nervous fidgeting. "Sal," I try, cringing a bit. That was desperation— he has to know that.

Again, nothing.

He really must be trying to piss me off, that or he isn't interested at all. But thankfully, the zero interest half doesn't stink like I was afraid it would. Instead, it spurs me into action.

He can ignore my words all he wants, but he can't ignore me.

"I'm going to touch you," I warn because consent is important. "If you don't want that, you need to tell me."

I wait a good thirty seconds but he stays silent.

I pinch my lips together then grab onto the armrest of his chair, pulling it back just enough to place my body between him and his computer. He simply looks up at me with disinterested eyes, so I go further, fueled by the spark in my soul and the rage of him purposefully pretending I'm not even there.

I take a step forward and put a gentle hand on his shoulder for balance, then easily slide myself onto his lap. His thighs are warm beneath my own, his skin smooth under my fingertips. The dark ink on his biceps contrasts beautifully with the milky color of his skin and it's quite an honor to finally run my hands over his art.

I watch the way my fingers drag down his arm then up again, returning to his shoulder. I'm on top of him and he still hasn't said a word, still hasn't touched me. At this point, I'm yearning for something— anything.

The only good sign I'm getting is that he hasn't pushed me off.

I glance up, looking into his blue eyes that are darkened by the shadows of his room. They're watching me closely, no ounce of emotion reflected in them. He's just observing.

My other hand travels to his prosthetic face, gripping onto his jaw in the way that he does to me so often. "Think you can ignore me?" I whisper, a little smirk quirking my lips despite how badly I wish I could contain it.

A slight furrowing of his brows is what I get in return.

Ha, got him.

He still doesn't say anything, but I've piqued his interest at least.

"Larry's gone," I say next, my eyes traveling to the rough prosthetic in my hands. I run my thumb over the underside of his jaw, feeling a number of scars.

"I assumed so," he says, voice a bit deeper than it normally would be and toneless like it seems to have been all day.

My gaze meets his again, and this time there's a little fire in his pretty eyes. There's desire, interest, slow-building exhilaration. I love seeing this look on him.

"Mhm," I hum, moving my other hand from his shoulder to the side of his neck. "Are you going to sit here and ignore me like the asshole you are, or are you going to have mercy on both of us?"

Sal slowly blinks, eyes traveling over my form, drinking me in like I'm the last drop of water on earth. "You called me an asshole for a reason," he bites out. "Don't expect much. Unlike you, I can actually hold out."

"But what's the point of holding out?" I counter, tilting my head to the left. "Larry's heading to the apartments. We have about ten minutes. That's enough room for one of a couple options. Stop being a little prick and do something."

"More like twenty. Larry takes his sweet ass time." Sal's eyes narrow. "You think insulting me is going to coerce me into this, you little bitch? Thought you knew our dynamic well enough by now." My words are getting to him. That's exactly what I want.

"I do know our dynamic," I whisper, leaning my head down so that my face is level with his. I look into his cerulean eyes and they gaze back at me, one pupil dilated. Then, I bend lower until I'm at the nape of his neck, his hair tickling my jaw.

I use the hand holding his face to tilt his head up and away from me, using the angle as leverage to place my lips onto his warm skin.

I hear a muffled sigh from him in response and it takes everything in me not to smile.

My mouth moves slowly along the side of his neck, placing meaningful, wet kisses along his throat. But when I get to the hilt of his tattoo, I bit down gently.

He flinches at the feeling of my teeth digging into his skin, then completely aborts his mission to ignore me completely.

Sal's hands fly to my waist, one gripping tightly onto my hip and the other trailing up my back and into my hair, gripping the strands tightly before yanking my head back.

My teeth are ripped from his neck immediately and Sal pulls me away from him by the base of my neck. I gasp, staring into his captivating azure eyes from just centimeters away. His prosthetic nose bumps my mask's and he holds me there without a word.

His eyes trail down my face and heavy breaths follow his gaze. His cold fingers are curled into my neck, his nails digging into my skin.

I swallow, wondering if maybe I should have just minded my own business, stayed in the living room and waited for Larry to come back. Maybe I pissed him off.

I lick my lips and blink at him, my mouth gapes open as I try to find something to say. He's silent. It's not awkward, just scary. Scary is ten times worse.

Sal must see the regret and fear in my eyes because his own eyes lessen their harsh glare a bit and then he rasps out, "Can I touch you?"

Every inch of my body goes rigid with shock, anticipation. "Yes," I say, my voice barely above a whisper. My fingers tighten ever so slightly on the underside of his jaw while my heart runs an entire marathon in my chest. Now is not the time to get nervous because I sweat when I'm nervous. I need to be horny– not nervous.

Sal takes a deep breath, eyes set on mine. I feel his chest rise ever so slowly, then go back down the same exact way. The pause between us is utter agony and I feel like I'm going to start spazzing out or something. Honestly, with the way I'm sitting on top of him, I might just fall over and die on the spot. That feels less incriminating than whatever is about to ensue.

Cool fingers grasp onto my thigh, his palm flattening against my skin. His hand drags up to my side, followed by his other hand leaving my neck to grab the other side of my waist. The feeling of him touching me, just like he'd asked, fills me with memories I tried so desperately to forget just a couple weeks or so ago. This is deja vu in the best way.

In one swift motion, Sal lifts me up and plops me on top of his desk. I brace myself with my hands on either side of his keyboard that lays behind me. Questions of concern start flowing through my brain because this is an odd place to be.

"Don't knock over my shit," Sal breathlessly informs, eyes glancing up to me. HIs hands move to the waist band of my bottoms and I suck in another anxious, anticipatory breath.

I nod quickly, watching him with wide eyes as he looks down at my waist, his hands circling to the front of my stomach and fumbling with the button of my shorts. Oh my gosh.

I gulp, looking at anything but the man between my legs, currently pulling down the shorts I'd traveled in. His cold fingers brush along the outside of my thighs, causing goosebumps to rise all over my skin. He's slow, purposeful, dragging this out to get whatever reaction out of me that he can. It feels like my heart is about to explode.

I have no idea what he's about to do, he doesn't warn me either. I don't have the guts to watch this scene play out. The prospect of his dilated pupils, messy hair, and that glare in his captivating eyes is too much-- so much that warmth pools between my thighs before he can initiate anything.

"You look scared," he murmurs and I flinch at the gentle, comforting tone he uses with me. I've never heard something such as this come from him and be directed at mebefore.

"I am," I answer honestly, licking my lips while his fingers slowly pull my shorts down my legs. I lift myself a bit to aid him, shivering when my bare legs meet the cold surface of his desk. "A bit."

"Why?" Sal asks, hands pressing onto my thighs. With how warm my skin is and how cool his fingers are, the contrasting temperature is enough to spark an aneurysm. He drags those hands of his up my legs until he reaches my panties, hooking his digits into them.

I shake my head, chin quite literally tilted up to the ceiling. I'm not quite sure what has me so scared. Am I afraid of myself? Him? Getting caught? Being dropped again?

One risky hand leaves my hip and Sal's prosthetic comes into view. He's hovering over me, in a standing position now. His hair falls onto my shoulders, shielding us from the rest of the world like a curtain. I blink up at him, breath caught in my throat as a rush of chills invades my body.

"Hey," he says. His voice is a bit on edge, but it's concerned. So concerned that it distracts me from my own fear for a moment. "You're okay," he continues, his hand gripping onto my chin and pulling my head down so we can be eye level. I look between his bright eyes-- his eyebrows are risen a bit, as if to communicate to me that I can trust him. But can I?

"I'll take care of you. If you want to stop, if you don't want to start-- let me know. Say anything and I'll end it immediately." He tilts his head a bit, eyes glancing over my face. This is different. This looks vulnerable. "If I made you uncomfortable at all, I--"

My head shakes in opposition. I don't even have to think about it. "No, it's not that. It-- I trust you." The words spew out of my mouth and I immediately regret it. Something smug takes over his expression and I press my lips together, grabbing onto his wrist connected to the hand that's still holding my chin. "I trust you with this. If I was tied to train tracks, I wouldn't even think of calling you." I narrow my eyes at him to exemplify my point. His eyes squint as if he's... smiling? I'll ignore that. "But you've never... made me uncomfortable. You always ask. You always check. So..."

I watch him nod slowly, our gazes never disconnecting. He seems to contemplate what I've said, measurably formulating his next move. "Do you want to talk about what's stressing you then?"

My head rears back and my eyebrows furrow, his hand falling away from my face. "What brain eating amoeba has overtaken you?" I blurt out, holding a hand out between us. It's incredibly odd-- this is out of place. "You are never concerned about me-- what is this?"

If you can't tell, I'm not a fan of change. I greatly prefer stability even if it's toxic.

Sal drops the caring act almost immediately, his eyes rolling so hard that I'm worried they'll sink into his body. "I can't go down on you if you're freaked, can I? I wouldn't even feel comfortable doing that. I'm an asshole, not a monster."

I pause, every facial feature relaxing as his statement slaps me in the face. Key words: go, down, on, you, asshole, monster. Yep, only monstrous assholes go down on their enemies. I'm the very brave, very eager, very shocked recipient of this going down.

I take a deep, shaky breath, blinking at Sal who watches me with what looks like a raised eyebrow. "Okay," I breathlessly whisper. "How are you-- are you..." Why am I rambling? What kind of answer am I looking for? Obviously the prosthetic is about to come off and I just have to contain the desperate, whore-like rage within.

"Shut up, Vi," he chuckles over my nickname, grabbing onto my thighs and tugging me to the edge of the desk as he sits in his chair again. My fingertips press into the wooden surface while my heart threatens to pound its way through my ribcage. "Just let me taste you."

Cue internal screaming. I'm so going to faint-- and the addition of watching his pretty guitar-playing hands leave my skin to unbuckle his prosthetic is pushing me to astronomical heights. I don't even exist anymore. I'm just a wisp, a little phantom fairy watching her favorite sex movie play out in real time. It's called Faceless Fixation. She's the Fellatio Fairy. I don't even-- whoever is writing my life needs to give me a break.

I'm shivering like I have hypothermia by the time Sal carefully pulls the prosthetic off his face, making sure to not mess up his hair. And then he glances up at me. Bright eyes hesitant, sort of wide. Eyebrows risen just a bit and lips pressed together like he wants to say a thousand things but can't. He looks so nervous and it's a moment we can both share.

For reassurance (I think we both need it) I smile at him. Just a slight upward tilt of my lips as I press my thighs together. He's so beautiful. Every scar, every indentation, every feature, every little freckle. Just wow-- he's a sight to behold.

Sal's gaze flits to my lips, then down to my legs and he grabs onto them again, purposefully pulling them apart. His black polished nails dig into my skin as he gazes down at my underwear. I'm so used to watching his reactions and feelings portrayed only through his eyes, but watching the way his jaw tenses and the moment his lips part like he can't wait any longer makes me feel like I'll implode. 

His fingers run up my legs to my hips, dipping into my panties and pulling them downward. I gulp over the sight, relishing in the deja vu. How kind of him to not rip these this time. 

I lift myself up as he shimmies them down my legs, finally pulling them from around my ankles and holding them up for me to see. I blink, warmth rushing to my face at his boldness. And Sal, well-pleased, quirks a little seductive smile at them before switching his gaze to me.

"I haven't even touched you and you're soaked," is what he murmurs, eyes dancing over my half naked body with very little focus on my face. It's like he's glued to what hides behind my clenched thighs, eagerly awaiting what he'll find between them. "You're inflating my ego way too much," his voice is a bit louder this time-- darker, more sinister. The pronunciation of his words shows off charming, slightly crooked front teeth and sharp canines. I'll never know how I haven't ascended already.

I shiver, trying and failing to hide my reaction. But it doesn't really matter, seeing as Sal caught onto it anyway and his hooded eyes are on mine, a dangerous glint clashing with the hypnotizing azure shade of his irises. 

His hands are on my legs again, fingers roughly squeezing my skin. He isn't putting off his plans again though. When he separates my legs and I try my best not to push him away out of fear, Sal leans forward and presses his lips to the inside of my left thigh.

I take a deep, shuddering breath as I bathe in the feeling of his soft, jagged lips moving along my sensitive skin. I commit the image to memory, absolutely astonished over the way his blue eyes are closed while he inches closer and closer to my pussy.

I'm unable to take a full breath at this point, my body is tense while I try to hold myself in an upright position, pathetically falling apart as his mouth dances along the inside of my thigh like he's studied and perfected each step he takes. His hands are molded into my skin, they've become a part of me. He's pressing my thigh up to his face, leaving the most inebriating kisses. I wish he would stop teasing me already.

At the same time, I'm obsessed with the way he's handling me. Delicately, carefully, but he's in full control and making me wait. Testing me. Seeing if I'll push him, hoping I'll give him a good reason to punish me.

Sal's eyes open again, glancing up to meet mine. I suck in a breath, watching as he opens that dirty mouth of his and bites into the sensitive skin at the top of my thigh.

I hiss, wincing at the slight pain but my eyes never leave his. They could never. And he loves that, takes it as a challenge because those sky blue eyes close and he bites down harder, sucking my skin into his mouth to leave his mark. 

Some kind of satisfied, sickeningly delighted feeling swells in my chest at the knowledge of having a mark from him on my body. It's primal, it's a little weird, but I adore the idea and maybe he does too. After what he said to me about North on the flight to Nockfell, I'd guess he's more than happy to stake his claim even if it's invisible to the outside world. 

Sal finally pulls his teeth from my leg, revealing a gnarly, dark purple mark in his wake. He places a quick, soothing kiss to the abused skin before trailing his way closer to my pussy. He masks his destination with more wet kisses and bites and I'm so worked up by now that a light sheen of sweat has formed on my forehead. I can't be doing this-- this is complete torture.

"Sal," I groan out, flinching at the sinful tone of my voice. It makes him pause his movements as well. "Please," I tack on, the word quiet and agonizingly pleading.

He hums against my skin, eyes zeroed in on mine. I hate being so direct, it's terrifying, but it's worth it if it'll end up with his tongue buried in me, right? 

"Beg for it," he says lowly, a slight rasp to his voice. His tone makes me shiver, as well as his words and I would drop to my hands and knees if he told me to right now.

My lips part upon hearing him and I release a shaky breath, thighs drawing together until he stops them with his tight grip. My heart is running a marathon, my limbs are trembling and I'm wondering if maybe this is all just a really awesome dream.

"Please," I repeat, voice coming out as a whine. For once, I don't regret it because this is what he wants. "I'm desperate." I don't know how else to portray to him that I need this-- the wait is nearly excruciating. "I need to feel you."

Sal pulls away from my skin, tongue lapping at all of his bite marks before a sadistic smile pulls at his lips. "How much do you hate me?" And he's waiting, waiting for a wordy explanation of my distaste for him. But now, with the way things have changed between us-- even if it's slightly-- describing my loathing somehow feels harder.

So I snort, trying to coerce him into putting his mouth on me again regardless of the location. But all the shivers, waiting, and very slow building orgasm is slipping away into the distance. "A lot," I whisper shakily.

He gives me a look, eyes narrowed and lips pressed together as if I've disappointed him. "You can do better than that, Vi. Where's the fire?" He leans toward the thigh he hasn't captured with his mouth yet and skims his teeth along my skin. "Should I give you an example?"

I lick my lips, a sudden fluttering in my chest making me feel light headed. I hesitantly shake my head-- the longer he isn't paying attention to me, the farther I am from cumming. I can come up with something to say can't I? Of course I can. He's infuriating enough.

"Alright then," he mumbles monotonously, finally ditching my thighs. He yanks me a bit closer, eyes still rifling through my soul. "Then tell me. And if you stop," he warns as I swallow against the pounding in my chest due to his positioning, face mere inches from my sopping cunt. He's dragged this on long enough. "I stop. Keep that filthy mouth of yours moving."

He waits for me to launch into a monologue of detest. His mouth so close to my clit, breath tickling my skin and forcing a quiet little whimper from me. 

"I fucking hate the constant foul mood you're always in," I force out, feeling my heart leap into my throat the second the words leave my mouth. Because Sal keeps his promise and with an inebriating grunt of approval, he finally attaches his lips to my clit, tongue running over it like he's desperate to soak up every inch of what I have to offer.

The feeling of his mouth on my pussy is incomparable to any other type of satisfaction in the world-- this is what I've waited for. And he happily makes up for the lost time, expertly flicking his tongue over the bundle of nerves and sucking it farther into his mouth. He moans against my cunt, hands dragging up my thighs to cup my ass and force me even closer to him. He squeezes my skin, a reminder to keep talking.

I dig up all the things I can't stand about him, slathering them across my brain so I can tell him about it. "You're a brick wall. No matter what I say, you refuse to listen. How come you're never open to hearing anyone out?" I whimper between words, squirming around on his desk and trying my damn hardest not to ruin any of his belongings.

Sal lifts my legs over his arms, pushing them onto his shoulders and I swear I'm about to combust. The way his tongue maps figure eights and circles around my clit does nothing to help, only sends me further toward falling apart.

I squeeze my eyes shut, fingers curling over the edge of his desk, heavy breaths and quiet moans falling past my lips no matter how badly I wish I could keep them inside. "You have some kind of God complex. You think you're right about everything, have to be in control of everything and I can't stand it. I can't stand you and your constant need to have everything you want."

His teeth graze over my clit and my mouth falls open, waves of pleasure rolling through my body like I've never experienced before. He moves downward, his tongue buried between my folds and licking up every bit of my arousal that he can get. Upon getting a better taste of me, he moans and I can feel the vibration of it everywhere, all the way up to my fingertips.

"I hate how easily you turn me on, how wet I get just from a simple touch," I admit, teeth clamping down onto my bottom lip as his tongue explores the inside of my pussy like he's been starved of me for far too long. His nails dig into my skin, the action eliciting a stinging sensation that only adds to the pleasure he's giving me. This is everything. "And you're so unfair. So pretty, so damn attractive with that horrible personality of yours. Why can't you be pretty through and through?"

I open my eyes again to watch him, drowning in the prospect of his face buried between my thighs, cheeks flushed and hair a mess. I watch as he drags his mouth up to my clit again, drawing patterns and shapes I don't care to know over the bundle of nerves. The rough, slick feeling of his tongue on such a sensitive place is addicting. So long as he's around to bring me to new heights like this, I don't need anything else. Maslow's hierarchy of needs has never been so wrong-- this is my sole need.

I can't help myself-- I reach a hand out, my fingers burying themselves into Sal's hair. It's soft. Just as soft as I knew it would be. And he doesn't seem to mind, only continues to suck on my clit and abuse it with his tongue. I close my hand into a fist, lightly tugging on his hair. I need something to hold onto.

"And your stupid fucking mouth," I groan out, sucking in a breath that never fully fills my lungs. His tongue dips into my pussy again, making another little groan follow my first. My thighs are clenched tightly at this point, quaking furiously. Sal never tries to stop me, doesn't calm me. It's clear how much he enjoys bringing me to ruin. "All the awful things you say, so many dirty words and you are so good with your tongue. I've never craved and loathed something so much in my life." 

Sal smiles against my pussy-- I watch in pure amazement as the corners of his lips curl upward like what I said was everything he's always wanted to hear. It's so lewd, so perverted and I absolutely will never forget this moment.

One of his hands lets go of my ass, trailing down my thigh again but moving to the inside this time. As his teeth gently nip at my clit and his tongue laps at my pussy, the tips of his fingers press against my opening, a silent request for more of my profession of hatred. A profession I'm more than happy to give him.

"I can't imagine how much I'll hate the way you fuck me just because I know it'll be better than any sex I've had before," I tell him, watching his mouth move against my cunt with furrowed brows and my lips parted in intrigue. Oh, he's so good at what he does. 

Sal's eyes meet mine again. Eye contact with him when he's in such an erotic position is incredibly intense. I feel like my entire body is going to crumple before he can finish me off and it all counts on if he's able to hold me up or not. But as soon as his cerulean gaze meets mine, two of his fingers sink into me. The action is slow, drawn out, and drags a nasty moan out of me in turn.

Sal whimpers against my pussy, taking care of me like he promised he would. When his fingers reach as far as they can go, he curls them, causing me to flinch at the sensuous feeling. There's so much going on to the point that every inch of my body feels impossibly overwhelmed. 

My sensitive clit gets sucked into Sal's mouth again, but then he pulls away. His fingers make up for the absence of his tongue, pounding into me in the same salacious way he's done before.

"Is that all you've got?" he grumbles breathlessly, glazed eyes glaring into mine. This is the expression I'm used to with him-- anger and dominance. 

I choke on the breath I try to take, my thighs pressing into his neck as his fingers slam in and out of my soaked cunt, digits only pausing their relentless pace to curl into me. I try to fight against my one working brain cell, try to form words for him, but-- "I can't." is all that I'm able to create, the two short words coming out as an imploring cry.

Sal stands, finger-fucking me into an alternate dimension. He hovers over me, his hair brushing my shoulders and neck. I watch him, an absolute mess beneath him but I can't look away-- even through the panting breaths that morph into whimpers and moans. 

His eyes glance between mine, seemingly contemplating something in that meticulous mind of his.

"Yea, you can, gorgeous," he grinds out behind clenched teeth, using the hand that's gripping my ass to press me against his chest. Our even closer proximity somehow forces his fingers deeper into my pussy, his thumb rubbing my clit. "Tell me more." My mouth is dry, I'm going to cum soon, and hopefully I don't actually fall over before that.

Sal takes a page out of my book, leaning closer to me and nipping at the skin of my throat. A little gasp falls past my lips and I finally let go of his hair, dragging my hand down to his neck. Those fingers work me to the core, never ceasing their movements and pushing into me with so much perfectly applied force. 

His mouth moves along the side of my neck, his lips still wet from my juices. I have no idea what gave him the confidence, but I'm not mad. Everything that couldn't be done with his prosthetic can be done now and he's taking advantage of it. "Speak," he snaps, tone not so gentle or comforting like it was when this first began. "Or else."

My mind is blank. "I'm about to cum," I begrudgingly whisper, completely overtaken by his fingers thrusting into me and his thumb focused on my oversensitive clit.

I shut my eyes, my free arm wrapping around his shoulders. Every inch of my body is tense, senses heightened and alert. I don't think I can possibly hold on any longer-- I doubt Sal needed my confirmation to tell that I'm close.

His digits curl into me again, repeating the action. I follow up with a loud whimper, my nails digging into the skin of his neck as he sucks on the skin behind my ear. I wish he'd have ditched the prosthetic sooner because I've really been missing out.

The hand still gripping onto my butt retreats to my stomach, fingers disappearing under my shirt and crawling across my ribs to my bra. He treats it as if it isn't even there, hand easily dipping beneath the fabric. His palm envelops my breast, squeezing gently and massaging the skin. It's such a considerate touch compared to the way he treats the rest of my body-- he knows exactly where the sweet spots are. 

"Cum," he commands, lips brushing the shell of my ear and fingers pounding into my sore cunt, thumb running over my hardened nipple.

My head drops onto his shoulder and with one more curl of his fingers, I do as he says and fall apart in his arms. I burst almost instantly, doing anything to keep myself silent over the feeling of his fingers gently caressing the inside of my pussy, riding me through my orgasm just like he did the first time. My teeth sink into his shoulder, a muffled whimper following soon after. Sal tenses up in my arms, a pleasured breath falling from his mouth and fanning over the side of my neck.

"Good girl," he purrs into my ear, lips skimming over the warm skin at my throat. He leaves one more sloppy kiss to my neck then pulls away to look into my eyes again. I can hardly hear anything he says as my teeth are forced away from his shoulder, still reeling from the orgasm that slammed into me nearly unannounced. My limbs feel like jelly as chills run up my spine. "You listen to me so well," he continues. I can't even look into his eyes; I just watch the way his lips move. How his tongue presses into the back of his teeth to pronounce a syllable. His sharp canines that undoubtedly left their own bruises on my skin. 

I gulp, unable to peel my eyes away from the mouth that masterfully brought me to climax. For the first time ever, I wonder what his mouth would feel like against mine. How soft his scarred lips would feel, not on my skin, but captured by my own. What his tongue would taste like. What his teeth would feel like nipping at my lips. 

Sal doesn't move away from me-- keeps our close proximity with his nose nearly brushing my mask's. He slowly, delicately pulls his fingers out of me but only continues to gaze into my eyes.

This is dangerous territory. Very dangerous. Because the impossible is coursing through me right now and I... somehow can't find it in me to hate him in this exact moment.

But then he blinks. Stands to his full height, moving away from me. His azure gaze turns to the desk I'm sitting on and he grabs my panties, offering them to me. Not an ounce of emotion evident on his face. I'd always wondered what he'd look like simply because I was curious if his face gave away his emotions better than his eyes could. It's pretty impressive how he's able to keep a straight mug though, RBF and all. Especially when he lifts the hand he fingered me with to his mouth and licks my cum off. He doesn't even look at me as his tongue runs up the length of his digit, just turns away from me and walks to the other side of the room.

I'm floored, jaw dropped and pussy wet. Again. That's really fucking hot.

I watch him strut away, follow his movements as he drops to his haunches and opens up his suitcase with his clean hand. He grabs something then faces me again, beginning to walk back with a finger still in his mouth.

My chest tightens at the sight. He can't be doing this to me. Not when Larry is going to be home any minute-- he needs to keep both his hands at his sides.

Thankfully, Sal has some mercy on me and finally finishes cleaning his fingers, eyes darting up to mine again. He walks up to me, right where I'm still sitting on top of his desk and drops fabric onto my bare thighs.

My brows furrow and I look down, grabbing lace. I lift it up, unfolding it to see that it's a near replica of the lace underwear he'd ripped off of me in Vegas. Only it's a completely brand new pair. No rips, no issues. My heart swells a bit at the gesture-- he bought a new pair like I'd told him to. I wasn't even serious, but he did it anyway.

I puff out my cheeks, contemplating what to say. Thank you's are virtually nonexistent between us. My eyes flit up to meet his again and he stuffs his hands into his pockets, watching me.

"You taste good," he nonchalantly comments, causing an infuriating blush to heat my cheeks.

"Thanks," I murmur, holding up the lace panties to show that I'm thankful for them too. "You taste pretty good too." He does. I'll have to return the favor to him when I get the chance.

A barely audible snort comes from him and I almost smile. 

"I'd fuck you, but Larry will be back any minute and Ash probably isn't far behind him," he says, turning on his heel and walking toward the door. "I suggest you put your clothes back on. Panties are clean, I washed them."

My eyebrows raise and I pinch my lips together. Huh. "How kind of you," I say half sarcastically. Only half because it's helpful that they are clean-- it's almost like he knew he'd place me in a predicament where I needed fresh underwear. "You trying to kick me out?" I add. Of course he is, I'm just trying to make my way out of here as awkward-less as possible.

"Hell yea," he says proudly, "I have shit to do."

"Are you calling me a distraction?" I ask, looking toward him as I shimmy my underwear and shorts up my legs then start working on the button.

Sal tilts his head, hand on the doorknob. "And a mild aggravation."

"Oh, wow," I gasp, feigning surprise. "Mild? I must be working my way onto your good side."

"Fuck me good enough and we'll see how far you get," he replies, eyes watching my every move but face still unreadable as I begin walking toward him. 

I roll my eyes. Of course. I pinch my lips together and give him a disinterested look. This is my lesson to never try to have a casual conversation with him again. He clearly doesn't want it, which, fair. Our agreement is sex, not friendship. "Okay," I say dramatically when he opens the door for me. "Bye, Sal."

The man nods his head, acknowledging the shift in the room. His eyes stay glued to mine like they have been the entire time I've been here. Now that I'm not distracted by his mouth on my pussy, I realize that this is an odd thing for him to do. He looks at me every once in a while, but not in such a... scrutinizing way. 

He purses his lips and says, "Bye, y/n."

Every nerve-ending in my body suddenly shuts off. Everything is still. I have no thoughts for a moment, no physical reaction. Just stillness. I don't breathe, I don't move. I just watch him.

There's no way— he has to have mixed up my names. It has to be that.

And then everything hits me. Sal Fisher just said my name. And not the fake one that I've been hiding behind. He said my actual name— the one that's on my birth certificate. And now my hands are shaking, my heart is racing, my breaths are uneven, and I feel like I'm going to throw up.

"What the fuck," I say shakily. I'm not ready for this. I'm going to completely switch his thought process around-- "did you just say?"

The look in his eyes changes, they light up a bit as if he's caught me. And still he decides to mess with me. "Huh?" he innocently asks.

Okay, I'd really like to wake up now.

My eyes narrow. So that's the game he wants to play? This isn't the time and I don't have the mental capacity to handle this. Not only am I recovering from a mind-blowing orgasm, but I was just getting over the overwhelming anxiety I suffered from yesterday.

"I'm not y/n, if that's what you're thinking," I rush to tell him, even adding in the fakest little smirk I've ever slapped onto my face. Anything to get him off my tail, whatever I can think of to save my ass. This really can't be happening to me.

He's still watching me speculatively and it's making my brain itch. "You know," he finally starts, voice disgustingly pleased. "I went out on a limb with that one." I watch in horror as a little smirk begins to grow on his face. I don't want to accept it yet, I really don't, but I think I'm fucked and not physically. 

At the end of the day, he's still managed to fuck me in multiple ways. I cannot stand Sal Fisher.

"What are you even talking about?" I ask him, clearing my throat quietly while taking a safe step out of his door and into the living room. I try my best to keep my eyes on him while extinguishing the fear from my gaze. If I act horrified, he'll sniff me out instantly. That is, if he hasn't already.

Sal chuckles deeply— it's, shockingly, an amused and prideful one rather than something sick, dark, and twisted. He leans against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest. I try my best not to adore the way his scars stretch with his laugh and the sight of his pretty teeth. "Any other woman would have assumed I was sleeping with someone else if I called them by another name," he says lightheartedly, tilting his head down a bit. "But you didn't. And that can only mean that I'm right."

I open my mouth to decline, fear thrumming through me. He caught me red handed. I can't fucking believe this.

"And don't try to deny it, you won't change my mind. I've been very sure of who you are for months now."

My head slowly begins to shake of its own accord. He never fails to shock me. "How..."

Sal shrugs. "You couldn't have timed your introduction more horrendously. Think about it," he says, chewing on his bottom lip. "I bitch at y/n over a phone call, then the next day, a wild VioletViolence pops into my life and isn't too surprised by my shitty personality. The second you were added to the Discord server, I had my suspicions." He shrugs nonchalantly, like the confirmation doesn't bother him in the slightest. "I talked it over with Larry and Todd too. They're pretty sure of your identity as well. They were just nice enough to wait for you to tell us on your own." His eyes narrow, sly like a fox. "But I'm not nice and wanted to know for myself. Wanted to scare you a bit too."

I swallow over the bile rising in my throat. Scare me, he did. I have no idea what to do with myself. I must look like a deer in headlights nearing its death sentence. "It... it doesn't bother you?" I decide to ask in a small voice, unable to blink as I watch him closely.

That same smug little smile is still lighting up his marred face as he says, "Regardless, I still can't stand you and I'll still fuck you stupid."

-----------

A/N::::::: OMFFGGGGG I HAVE BEEN WAITING FOR THIS CHAPTER FOR AGESSSSSS PLEASE!!! more specifically the end of it! i've had this last scene written since like... 2022 o_O 

i want to give a HUGE thanks to my very good friend, Phoebe, who inspired me to write the catalyst of the smut scene with this AMAZING piece of art that they drew :3 i am soooo so grateful for having the opportunity to see the art in general, but getting to write it too??? OMG so incredibly grateful <33

side note: this is my first time writing a smut scene like this one-- well, actually any time i write a different kind of sex it's new for me LMFAO i am exploring EVERYTHINGGGG and i also have no idea if this is any good. so like last chapter, if y'all could give me some tips or things you like and didn't like, i would GREATLY appreciate it :3

i'm going catch up on my neglected homework. as always, have a wonderful morning/day/evening/night. my heart belongs to all of you <3

[thosesillylittlegayghosts]

Agggtm thoughts

Young pip has my heart

So do Sal and Andie

‘What do you know about social anthropology?’ ‘Whatever I need to I’m Sal Singh’ I love him and it gave ravishing vibes

The DT killer reference had me gagged

WHO TF IS STAN??? Why change his name from Daniel to stan when there’s a Stanley Forbes???? Cause he can’t be Stanley Forbes substitute cause he wouldn’t be allowed to be a police officer

That being said I get why pip suspected him of everything under the sun I would to

‘Little surprised you hadn’t done that already tbh’ I love them

WHY IS HE AN ENGLISH TEACHER???? (The romantic poets display is so Thomas Thorne coded)

ELEMENTARY MY DEAR WATSON (RIP Ty blackthorn you would’ve loved agggtm)

Uh you look great I LOVE THEM

You’re smarter then you look pippa Fitz amobi something about the way he said that made me love him. I’ve rewatched that one line 6 times

He’s tryna feed her 😭😭

GREAT GATSBY MENTION

Daniel/stan da silva back away from her please

Oh wait did I just mishear his name? IT WAS VERY EARLY OKAY

Oh shit they actually made Dan and andie have a thing. Swear in the book it was a just a rumor

Shit okay episode 5 and 6 was a rollercoaster

I actually cried at the last Sal/andie scene

THEY WERE GONNA RUN AWAY TOGETHER

The nose scrunch and pat on the shoulder PIPPA FITZ AMOBI THE WOMAN YOU ARE

PIPRAVI NATION WE WON WE FUCKING WON AFTER ALL THESE YEARS A CANON FIRST KISS

idk what all these black ribbons mean but the foreshadowing has been elite

Also I have not experienced this much bi panic for a couple since season two of shadow and bone premiered

[phoebepheebsphibs]

Double-Mutated Mikey

Chapter 20: Robotics

Continued from the short story written by @boots-with-the-fur-club

Prev || Next

Mikey moans as he wakes with a headache. His nose is stuffed up and his limbs are plagued by a dull ache. Donnie is by his side in an instant, smiling at him as he presses a glass of water to his lips, forcing him to hydrate.

"Good morning, Angelo," he says.

Angelo? His name is Mikey...

"How are you feeling?"

Mikey groans wordlessly at him.

"You ready for some breakfast?"

"Mikey doesn't get out of bed today," he announces grumpily, pressing his face deeper into the pillow.

Donnie rubs his cranium, pressing his palm against Mikey's forehead as he checks for any remaining fever.

"Hmm. I guess you're right, you won't be getting out of bed today," Donnie states, placing the cup on a side table and turning the lights off. "You get some more rest and join us whenever you're ready, okay?"

Mikey nods with a yawn, shimmying deeper under the blankets and purring with contentment.

"Leo or Raph will be in with your memory medication from Draxum. But other than that, I guess nothing eventful or interesting will be happening today," Donnie says as he walks out of Mikey's room.

.

.

.

Professor Honeycutt is sitting in his lab office, silently working on a new droid design. This one is different from the other machines he's been forced to build while employed here. All the other designs were weapons, or used to create chaos, or made to hurt the experiments (with one in particular in mind). But this one will be a sentry guard. A protector. SENTRY AUTOMATIC LIFESAVER. He's nicknamed it 'SAL' for now.

The body of the machine is finished for the most part. He's still working on the arms, trying to create a spring mechanism that can cause them to stretch to extreme lengths without breaking. He'd also like to add the same kind of metallic-elastic springs to the legs, even though he's already finished with those. But hey, he doesn't mind working on them again! Anything to avoid the real thing that's stumping him.

Honeycutt is struggling with the robot's AI, specifically its moral center and higher reasoning. He never got around to finishing the moral center for the last AI he built, and now she's starting to unnerve him. He can program the three laws of robotics, but he knows that sometimes you need to make a decision that disregards logic. He's seen movies. They may be inaccurate, but he'd have to agree with a few of the points they make.

So he's procrastinating on the brain. Well, there is a brain in the head, but it doesn't have any information in it, apart from some basic codes for movement and functions.

Most days, Zayton doesn't even know why he's here. He joined the TCRI for the funding, plain and simple. The cause sounded good, and they would help pay for all his robotics and engineering. He had all the money and freedom he could ever want to 'play with his toys'. What could be better? He should have known it was too good to be true. After a month of getting to build whatever he wanted in a secret bunker off the coast of Buffalo, he was called in to help with some work in NYC. And now... he's stuck doing this. Building ice blasters and dart guns and training robots that fight you to the death.

He's a man of peace.

But lately, he's been confusing 'peace' with 'staying out of it'.

Honeycutt's phone buzzes. It's probably another order from Timothy, or Chaplin wants help with the A.LP.H.A. device, or something just as irritating and dangerous.

"Hello, this is Professor Zayton Honeycutt speaking."

"Hey, doc, it's Bishop."

Honeycutt drops his tools and quiets his voice.

"Ah, John. H-how nice to hear from you again... how are the plans for your -- ahem, 'mother's recovery'?"

The two of them have come up with a special code to talk about Mikey without attracting attention.

"We still don't have any information about her condition. But I think she's still with her 'extended family'."

Mikey is still hidden in the sewers with the other mutants like him.

"Have the doctors found anything?"

"Not to my knowledge. But I heard that they did an 'impromptu check-up', and I should be hearing more about that later."

They sent drones into the sewer tunnels. As to be expected.

"When do you suppose that they'll tell you the details of that check-up?"

"No idea. I get the feeling that I'll have to make some calls to a few nurses..."

"Well, if it helps, I could ask around."

Bishop's voice goes quiet.

"...Doc, I don't know if that's wise..."

"Why not? I built those dro-- ahem, I mean, I know a few nurses in the clinic. I could get some answers for you."

The line stays silent for a moment before Bishop answers.

"...Okay, Doc. Just... be careful."

"Of course!" Honeycutt chuckles nervously. "Don't even worry. But, eh, speaking of your mother, I was wondering how the 'quilt' she's sewing is coming along?"

The 'quilt' is code for their side project. Most of the experiments and actions of the scientists here are unsanctioned and illegal, covered up under all the red tape and paperwork and made to look as though they are for the 'greater good'. Bishop and Honeycutt have been working to find evidence of all the mutations and genetic experiments and legal workarounds that they've done here.

"I've been getting some more 'thread' for her."

Thread = Paper trails.

"Does she need any 'fabrics'? I know she was looking for some nice patterns, last time we spoke."

Photographic evidence of the mutated animals or krang parasites.

"She could use some later. But for now, she's worried that she might be overspending."

Bishop is afraid that they've attracted attention, he wants Honeycutt to lay low.

"Okay then. Tell her I said hello."

"Will do. And Doc? Really, be careful. I don't want you getting sick like my mother."

"...I thank you for the concern, John. It's very decent of you. But I should be fine. I'll look into the... ahem, check-up results for you."

"Thanks. I'll be in touch."

The call ends.

Honeycutt exhales loudly, hoping that by the time all the used air in his lungs escapes him, he'll have also rid himself of the stress that lingers in him.

It doesn't.

Honeycutt lets S.A.L. rest on his desk. He stretches, cracking his spine and wrists before he walks out of his private workshop and into the halls. He could use an extra cup of coffee. He knows that he should try sleeping for once, but he can't really waste time right now. He has so much work to do, and now that Bishop recruited him he's busier than ever. It's a worthy cause and a noble sacrifice that he's more than willing to make.

Honeycutt walks through the halls, flinching at every door that opens and hurrying along his way. Every scientist that greets him with a wave or conversation starter, he simply hustles by them with a nod. He's never felt comfortable in this complex before, but now he's constantly unnerved.

Honeycutt shuffles into the elevator, down to the cafeteria to get a quick cup of joe, and back up to the security room. He considers stopping at the animal sections to see if he can grab any blood samples or photographic evidence... but Bishop is concerned, and the man has a surprising track record when it comes to following his gut. Maybe later... if he can find an excuse. A technical professor suddenly interested in genetics and bloodwork? Suspicious... but, maybe he can come up with some link between his work and the genetic studies... a robot that tracks DNA? Perfect! Only issue would be whether or not they'd buy it. A few might. But the big wigs in charge would ask questions. And Timothy and Chaplin might be against it, saying that none of the experiments can keep up against his tech thus far, so making a robot that advanced would be fruitless... he'll have to think of something else...

Prof. Honeycutt arrives at the security room, takes a quick swig of his black coffee for good measure, and then opens the door.

"Ms. Campbell," he greets flatly. "How are things?"

"Events are transpiring at a typical function and rate," she responds with a similar tone. "And I am working at full capacity, if that was what you were asking about."

"Thank you for the update," he says, moving beside her to watch the cameras. "How's the search for the escapee?"

"Still underway, but halted for the time being. Our drones discovered some odd wreckage in the tunnels, what looks like the ruins of someone's living quarters."

"Someone living in the sewers?" Honeycutt asks, feigning surprise.

"I detect sarcasm, unless I am mistaken," Ms. Campbell says, turning to look at him. "You knew beforehand about this?"

"Word gets around," he replies nervously. "I just wanted to know if it was true that there was something there. I'd heard that we were sending in drones -- and you know New York gossip, everyone thinks that there's some mysterious society of monsters living underneath us. And what with those mutants we've seen... I figured that perhaps one of them had made a shelter down there, possibly even our own little Mikey!"

Honeycutt realises that he's been prattling. It's a nervous trait. Ms. Campbell knows that. She can detect all sorts of tics and traits and habits and quirks. She has an incredible poker face, and she is a living lie detector.

She watches him, eyes analyzing every bead of sweat he creates.

"You are nervous."

"Q-quite so," he chuckles. "I'm just... concerned for Mikey."

That answer seems to satiate Ms. Campbell... for the moment. She turns around and starts to type something on the keyboard, and one of the screens plays glitchy feedback from a drone.

"Perhaps this will put you at ease, father," she says. "We found him."

Honeycutt watches in shock as a drone flies around the wreckage of a large opening in a sewer, complete with burst pipes, crumbled archways, and even broken down arcade games, though glory knows where those came from. On the walls are smeared paintings and spraypaint, words like 'cowabunga' and 'turtle power!' are scrawled across the stonework along with smiley faces, drawings of interesting action heroes and poses, and... what looks like portraits of turtles dressed as superheroes or ninjas. The drone flies through after looking around, hurrying down a corridor. After a several minutes of endless catacombs and passageways, it comes up to a light where the tunnels meet an abandoned section of the subways. The drone continues following a glow that leads to a secret hidden entrance. The drone presses itself up against the wall, waiting. After a few minutes, someone emerges from the door, peeking around. It's not Mikey, but...

"Is... is that...?"

"Another mutant creature like the escaped experiment, yes."

The creature looks down the halls nervously, before looking up behind him and shouting in fright as something dark green with yellow spots drops down on top of him. A flash of blue and the two vanish completely.

"What was that?!" Honeycutt yells, almost spilling his coffee as he moves closer to the video feed.

"Undetermined. But there have been reports of vigilantes that 'pop in and out' of crime scenes, fighting against the mutant outbreak. It is possible that he is one of said vigilantes," Ms. Campbell says. "And that is not all..."

Ms. Campbell speeds the playback to a moment several minutes later, when a human boy comes out of the entrance searching for something. He sees the drone and shouts, activating a high-tech chainsaw device and swings it at the drone, slashing it off the wall and shattering it completely.

"That was a human," Honeycutt says with hushed astonishment.

Bishop said that Mikey was with his 'family', so he sort of knew about the other mutants... but that was a human kid!

"I have been trying to run facial recognition on him to no avail," Ms. Campbell says. "He seems to have no identity."

In her voice, there is a twinge of disappointment, or rather, irritation with the failure. It shouldn't surprise him, he made her with the intention of resembling human in almost every aspect, so her exercise of emotions is not unprecedented. But the attitude, the dark personality lingering under the fake skin and steel grey eyes... that frightens him. Her AI was never completed, at least not in the ways he wanted. But she seems to be growing, evolving, learning. He didn't put that in there.

"Have... have you sent any more drones?" he asks, swallowing the nervous pit in his stomach every time he's with Ms. Campbell.

"Yes. But there seems to be some kind of electromagnetic field surrounding the area now, and any drone that crosses the threshold deactivates and short-circuits."

"Do we know why?"

"They mutants must be protecting their habitat," she states, going back to the original security footage. "But now that we know where they are, it is only a matter of time before we can discover more about their numbers and motives."

Honeycutt watches the screens at the bottom of the video stack, the ones with live drone feed. Three new devices are being sent to the previous drone's last known location. They fly up until a certain point before the feed warps into static and the drones crash, their live recordings die out with a high-pitched whine and crackle.

"I suppose I should contact Dr. Chaplin to make a new plan for the onset for the escaped experiment... Unless you have some theories, father?"

She still calls him father. All his creations tend to do that, he's noticed. But he's not sure how to feel about her calling him that. It feels eerie that she does, but the day she stops referring to him as such will be even scarier.

"I... couldn't say... p-perhaps I could create a device to counter the firewall?" he suggests. "Or maybe we could--"

The screens suddenly all glitch in unison, flashing quickly before turning a single shade of purple. Each monitor works in perfect harmony to create a large, singular image.

Professor Honeycutt steps back in shock. Ms. Campbell tilts her head slightly.

A series of words appear on the screen.

LEAVE US ALONE.

LEAVE US ALONE.

LEAVE US ALONE.

"Ominous," Ms. Campbell states calmly. "And quite interesting. I cannot say that the EPF has ever had any hackers before..."

The screens go dead, the room engulfed in darkness.

Before Honeycutt can say anything, a soft grey pixely static shows up on the screens, brightening the room again in time. The camera feeds return -- save for the drones, which still give no output nor input.

"I would say those vigilante mutants could be classified as hostile, wouldn't you agree?" Ms. Campbell says, turning to Honeycutt.

"Er, um, perhaps," he says nervously, loosening his shirt collar. "But you know me, I prefer to play the Switzerland of these mutant affairs. I'd rather stay out of it. I might suggest we do the same with these drones spies --"

"Why?" she asks, suspicion in her voice.

"Well, see... these mutants see us as an invading force. When an animal believes its habitat to be encroached upon, it will go to great lengths to defend it. These mutants may be doing the same thing, which could end badly for us..."

Ms. Campbell thinks it over.

"They have already fled one habitat," she responds. "So, in your scientific understanding, would they choose fight or flight over this new habitat they've created?"

"I-I'm not sure, animal science is not my area of expertise, but --" he swallows. "-- b-but I would assume that they would prefer to keep their new abode. Considering the lengths they've gone to thus far, they will not give it up easily."

"Hmm. Then this shall be a challenge, eh, father?"

Ms. Campbell smiles cruely.

He's never seen her do that.

"Q-q-quite so," he mumbles as he stumbles out of the room. "I should head back to work now... s-see you later, Ms. Campbell..."

His hand shakes, splashing the coffee in his cup. He's had enough of this for one day... he needs to call Bishop.

Honeycutt may not have the gut instincts that Bishop does, but something is telling him that things are about to get a lot more dangerous...

Prev || Next

[sailoryooons]

Hi it's me, your favorite demon sailor scout. I recently hit another follower milestone and I want to take a second to wax poetic about how grateful I am to have all of you here! I am not doing a milestone event for this celebration because I am in the works of setting up Hali's Happy Agust, but I wanted to give some thanks.

First and foremost: thank you to everyone who follows me. Whether you are a silent reader or someone who comments/reblogs/chats often - you are so appreciated and you make my day in whatever context you exist in this blog space. I hope you remain happy and healthy.

Second: I am very blessed and happy to be here. Writing in this community has given me more than I ever thought that it would. I have met the most outstanding people, some of which will be my best friends for life. Writing has always been my greatest love, and it means the world to me that I do it in a space with so many wonderful readers and writers. Being here has turned my life around for the better in so many ways.

Third: The road on Tumblr has not always been very easy. I have seen a lot of terrible things come across my dash and within this community over the last few months, and a lot of toxicity and time spent in the negative spaces of this fandom. I encourage everyone to choose kindness, to block when you're uncomfortable, to cultivate real and honest friendships, and to say kind things to others as often as you are able.

I want to give a special thanks to the following people who are readers and writers who have made me feel loved, seen and supported on this sight - I don't talk to all of you every day but you have made a huge impact in my experience here:

@here2bbtstrash @gimmethatagustd @yoongukie-ff @jjkeverlast @daechwitatamic @theharrowing @caelesjjk @eoieopda @jihopesjoint @madbutgloriouspond @blog-name-idk @kth1 @moni-logues @kithtaehyung @sleeplesseliza @mapleleaf000 @kittycat1dsn @borahae-k @amethystwritesbts @echotoyou @sweetestofchaos @chryblossomjjk @jimilter @rapline-heaux @matchy6812 @sal-jimin-limon @violetsiren90 @pamzn @minholykingofkorea @sabiekay and every single person in the BTS Fantasy and Fangs server!

[thegracelessfaceless]

Coming Home From Work to Sal

Tw: drug use mention

It's been a long day

You might argue the longest

Regardless of the field you work in

Every interaction you had today was a difficult one

People where whiny and obstinate

Simple tasks turned tedious and frustrating

And the work hours just dragged by

Every second expanding and then collapsing on itself with each tick of the clock hand

Whatever they're paying you...

Today it just isn't enough

You want nothing more than this shift to end because at least you know that at clock out time, they can't exactly force you to stay

The moment finally gets here

Clock out time

And you beat feet to your ride home

And as you walk up the front steps

There he is framed in the doorway

Sal, hair mussed from his after work shower, baggy pajama bottoms featuring characters from Ricko's Modish Wife, and a band shirt for King Gizzard and the Lizard Wizard

He holds the door for you and follows behind you as you shed your uniform on the way to the bathroom

And then listens as you unload your day

From the stupid overreaction about a small hiccup provided by Brandy in sales

To the complete Karen of an old woman who just kept haranguing you

To the fact that you totally overcommitted yourself with work duties today that were and weren't actually necessary

Sal diligently follows you from the bathroom and shower, to the bedroom (where he stole a few kisses and maybe a few squeezes too), to the kitchen where you both ate dinner standing up over the sink, and then finally to the living room

To console you on your bad day, Sal turns on your favorite guilty pleasure show

Even though watching it always makes him feel like happily slamming a door onto his head repeatedly

He engages in the show, and finds himself getting invested in it too

Also provided by Sal:

A foot rub after a long foot soak in the foot soaker Maple bought you for Christmas

Warm blankets

A big ol' bowl/joint/blunt/whathaveyou, if you partake. If not, Sal will have already handled this step himself before you got home

Your favorite snacks, along with some of his because he knows you secretly enjoy them

Hot tea/steamed milk/coffee, depending on your preference (Sal actually makes killer coffee despite not drinking it. He's surrounded by coffee drinkers, he had to learn at some point)

And then finally,

When you both retire for the night

Sal reads you a few chapters from whatever book he's reading

He could read you a stereo manual and you'd eat up every minute of it

You constantly suggest to Sal that he should make an ASMR channel on YouTube

Just his deep, raspy voice carefully articulating words so his Jersey doesn't show as much

Lulling you to sleep

And in those last few moments of consciousness, you feel Sal's lips press to your forehead

Goodnight Reader, I hope your day is better tomorrow and I love you

Vent section: For those of you who follow my blog and know my life, I work on a dementia ward. We got a new resident today. She is completely rude and hateful, incessantly talks, picks on/picks fights with other residents, argues for arguments sake, and biological functioned in the hall (TWICE). Needless to say, her presence has thrown off my entire work groove. I tried to compensate by deciding to do linens today, help out... For rooms 13-24... All of them. It was almost too much but I got it done right before my shift was done. I work 12 hour shifts so 15 loads was a completely doable task... Right? Anyway, while I was doing that, two of my residents (besties, Ms. Daisy and Ms. Eileen (all names have been changed for privacy and dignity)) managed to slip through the coded fire doors that lock down the hall (dementia patients wander and get lost easily, we have to keep them locked down for their safety). They didn't go far. The rest of the building caters to elderly people who just need a little help, and Daisy and Eileen went to the dining room on that wing. An elopement is when a resident manages to get completely out of the building, out in the world . So not even really an elopement. But mass panic ensued while we were trying to find out how they got out. Turns out they were camping the doors, and waited for a family member to come through and slipped out... Very crafty. One headcount later, administration finally left and it was back to dealing with the new lady, Glenda, who I'm sure will appear in many incorrect quotes on my blog. I normally completely loathe a new resident when we get them. As you can see, it throws off my whole day. I'll get used to her, figure out who she needs me to be, and be that person for her. I'm sure we'll end up thick as thieves. It's always the difficult ones that I end up liking the most.

[reckless-avacado]

AGGGTM TV SHOW SPOILERS AHEAD!

um hi. I just watched agggtm the tv series and I have a bone to pick with everything.

THis is ur warning if u havent watched the show Bye.

Don't get me wrong, ive read the books and i LOVED them but this tv show did not do them justice, it changed sooooo many details that didnt need to be changed and left out a lot of stuff, leaving them with no set up for season 2. Good Girl Bad Blood. I will now rant.

Ravi - No hate to the actor that played Ravi but he sucked. The line delivery on so many things was severly lacking. They also made him miss out on an iconic line "Real men wear floral when trespassing". In the show they made it so Ravi didn't rlly help Pip at all. He was simply there for Pip to tell her theories and information to.

Stanley - Stanley was just non-existent. he just wasnt there. This leaves no set up for season two. Bad choice on behalf of someone

Becca Bell - It may have just been me who thought of Becca as this frail 20 year old who was still grieving. But that wasn't represented in the show. They made Becca straight up find Pip and get angry at her instead of Pip just finding her in a cafe or whatever and asking her a few simple questions.

Ant - Ant was there, but not a part of Pip's friend group, he was just known as this dude that asked Lauren out.

Howie Bowers - First of all, his last name wasnt mentioned in tv show i dont think and it came off as this terrifying dude with a scar, when in the books he was just a drunk dude that was tryna sell drugs and didnt want to get called out by a bunch of teenagers. We never saw his house, Pip never tracked him down, he just happened to be at the Calamity party.

Da silvas - They made him more of a character than he needed to be. It was annoying. Also he did this weird nose grabbing thing eww. They also made Nat da Silva one of Andie's best friends instead of it being Chloe and Emma, it was Nat and Emma.

The cave - This cave shouldn't have existed. The calamity party that Pip was supposed to go to the track down the drug dealer, was in a cave. She didn't pretend to smoke with a guy on a garden wall, she simply asked where he was and he took her to Howie.

THIS NEEDED ITS OWN SECTION

This stupid cave was also where Andie was hidden, it was like a well or something in the cave that Becca dragged Andie into instead of the Farm house

The Farm house - Like Stanley the farmhouse didn't exist. IT WAS A KEY PLOT POINT IN THE FIRST BOOK AND ALSO IS IN THE SECOND YET THEY SAID NOPE AND DIDNT HAVE IT. ajdkbqoEUFBWROGUW

Isla - In the books Isla was this mentally unstable girl Elliot found on the side of the road that he believed was Andie, Isla being unstable then believed she was Andie. Elliot then hid her away in his attic and looked after her. When Pip finds her the girl introduces herself as Andie, Pip then realises it's not. In the stupid TV show, Isla is a poor girl living at a bus stop that Elliot thinks is Andie but quickly realises is not but offers her a place to stay for the night because of her condition, the next morning he confesses to the murder of Sal to her, which he then traps her in the attic. When Pip finds her she says, "I'm not Andie" UGH, it removed that whole plot point.

Barney - Now i was prepared to ball my eyes out at Barney dieing, (I warned u abt spoilers). A few things were different. First Barney was lost at Josh's bday party, not on a walk like in the book. Secondly (spoiler for book three) Barney wasn't drowned. He was discovered dead on the side of the road after being hit by a car which I can't see how they could make that Jason killing him on purpose.

Jason - They didn't make this man more of a suspect. They needed to make him suspisious to set up for a possible season 3. They made Dan da silva a suspect.

Pip showing up at ppls houses - The main way pip interviews ppl is by showing up at their houses, the show eliminated a bunch of these interactions. Pip met Ravi when on a walk with muffins, not his house, Pip met Max while waitressing for a party, (yes at his house but didn't show up on his door step like in the book) Nat da Silva, Pip interviewed her in the locker room after a tennis match when she was half naked.

There are propably so many more big things wrong with this show. It needed more of a budget, they ended up using some of the same shots, like Pip driving the same road, and Young pip. It was very annoying. I had such high hopes for this show to stay close to it's source material becasue Holly was so involved in the filming process, she even has a mini cameo in the hotel episode (look for the guest in a robe). But i was very disappointed so many things were changed. They even missed the whole renactment of murder to prove Sal's innocence. They just left out so much and it's very annoying.

THOUGHTS?

[sleeplyparks]

— ⭒ Family Movie Night!

The slendermansion hosts a movie night, a whole bunch of family feels, banter and chaos happens! : this is not lore accurate, but I heart found family, so this happened.

“I got popcorn!” Lazari shouts over the talk in the living room, walking in with a big bowl of it — she leans over the couch, “what movie we watching?”

Natalie looks towards her, “I say we watch Scream, but—“

“It’s not accurate!” Jeff stresses, “we could watch Friday the Thirteenth instead!”

“And that’s accurate?” Lazari questions, before leaning forward a bit more. “I say we watch Ghostbusters, personally.” Her words are targeted towards — well, Ben: He shoots her a look.

Tim sighs, “we’re not watching ghostbusters, last time we did Sally freaked out.”

Lazari rolls her eyes, going around the couch to sit on it — shoving Ben out of her way to do so. He glares at her, she glares at him. It’s a lovely experience.

“But,” she starts, “is Sally here?”

Natalie moves to snatch up some popcorn from the bowl, “She left to go grab mister Charlie or whatever that fuckers name is.”

“Mister Death.” Jeff corrects without thinking, before stopping. “Wait, no. I don’t know what that stupid animal’s name is.” He coughs awkwardly.

Lazari rolls her eyes, “It’s okay to like tea parties, real men like tea parties.”

“I don’t—“

Footsteps come running down the hallway, a giggle following along. Ben grins, “Speak of the devil.”

“Sally,” Natalie calls from the side of the couch, “you’re an honest girl, right?” She starts — and Lazari holds back a laugh: Jeff looks to the ceiling, he must know where this is going.

She nods quick, “Mhm! The most honest ever ! One time my mama asked me if I ate two cookies, and I said I ate three! ‘Cause I did!”

Nat smiles. “That’s good, Sal. Now— how often does Jeff come to your tea parties?”

“Jeff is the best, ever! The super duper best! He comes when I ask! Which is a lot!” She says— eyes glowing, “one time he even helped me make little mini cakes for it!”

“Does he dress up?” Lazari asks, a suppressed laugh coming forwards— but Tim shoots them a look.

Sally kicks her feet and swings her hands together as she and her stuffed animal — now known as Mr. Death, sit down by the bottom of the couch.

Jeff is not looking at any of them as he speaks, “The kid pulls puppy eyes, what am I supposed to say, no?”

“Duh.” Ben states.

Sally perks up, “Ben? I can please play with your switch later?”

She looks at him. He looks at her.

Ben sighs, it’s fond. “Sure.”

“You guys have zero back bone.” Lazari teases, nearly jumping at the sudden popcorn that was thrown at her by Ben himself— “You bitch!”

“Bitch!” Sally echos.

“Guys!” Tim snaps, “Settle down, Jesus. We do not live in a farm, y’all are acting like animals.”

Lazari blinks, “Y’all? What are you a cowboy?”

She goes quiet at the look he gives her.

“ Thank you , was that hard?” He mutters, sorting through a book of CD’s. “We can watch Goosebumps, Spiderman or Fear Street.”

“Spider-man!” Sally says excitedly, “he’s so cool! He goes like — whoosh ! And beats bad guys!”

Ben nods, “I like when Spider-Man goes Whoosh.” He speaks, amused above all else.

Natalie shrugs, “ I just wann’ watch somethin’.”

Jeff goes to interrupt— but Tim claps his hands together, “Alright, Spider-Man it is.”

“Favouritism.” Jeff whispers, which gets ignored.

The move starts to play: and it’s nice, she thinks— Ben makes his side comments, Natalie and Jeff both point out the plot holes, Sally tries to copy what the hero’s do on screen— looking at the others in the living room, she gets a distant feeling of warmth.

She had never seen a family before, not a healthy one, and fuck they may be the most furthest thing away from being healthy in the slightest: but it was hers. She would clench onto with her blood ridden fingers until it can be tugged away from the fates themselves.

Family , is a thought that comes quietly, maybe that’s what family is about: loyal to a fault even if you’re own family is made out of maniacs.

[pico-digital-studios]

Into, Across and Beyond! Scripting: Let's do this one last time.

One More Hero

OMT!Sonic (represented by a PC game box)

(Find his here.)

Detective Ghost / Kaede Titan (represented by a comic cover)

"Okey-doke! Let's do this one last time. My name is Kaede Titan. I gained my own ability to go at super-speed, and for a couple of years, I've been the one and only Detective Ghost! Sure some of you out there might know the rest. I've foiled Razereye's schemes, fell in love with Luna, adopted Max into my family, and then I saved the island from crooks time and time again!

Compared to Sonic, I got a whole secret identity thing going on, and though it's tough, I can say with confidence that I've loved helping save the day. And no matter how many times I get hit, I always find my way to keep on moving. Because right now (before OMT!Tails helped her out), the only thing standing between South Island and oblivion... is me.

There's only one Detective Ghost out there. And you're lookin' at her!"

CR!Sonic (represented by a comic cover)

"Alright, people, let's do this one last time. My name is Sonic Maurice Hedgehog. I was transformed by one of Robotnik's machines, and for the last seven years, I thought I was the one and only hero of Mobius. What a day, huh? I'm pretty sure you know the rest.

I saved Mobius, fell in love with Sal, saved Mobius some more, maybe too much, beat the heck out of Exegod and Corrupt, and blah blah blah, saved Mobius again... and again... and again. Fast forward! One of Robuttnik's robots flew at my face and broke my back, my relationships got testy, made some dicey money choices - Don't invest in a Sonic-themed restaurant, by the way. - then, like, 2 more years passed, yada yada yada.

A freaking drone flew at my face, I hurt my back again, entities that want to kill this stupid lemon idiot came around, I buried Uncle Chuck, who passed from old age, I realized I'm reaching adulthood, Sally and I... split up. But I handled it like a champion! (cut to him crying in a shower) 'Cause you know what? No matter how many times I get hit, I always keep on moving without regrets. I also got a lot of time to reflect and work on myself.

Did you know that seahorses mate for life? Could you imagine a seahorse seeing another seahorse and making it work? She wanted a family and kids, and for us both to rule over Mobius... and it scared me. I'm pretty sure I broke her heart. [...] Flash forward, I'm doing my part, doing ab crunches, getting "strong"... when this weird thing happened.

I gotta say, weird things happen to me a lot, given I live in a crossover multiverse and stuff, but this one was especially weird. [...] You see, I was still in Mobius, but... a lot of things were different. I was this... embodiment of hope the island looked up to. Also, I was dead... and young. It felt... nostalgic. It was like going back in time! I got a feeling that, whatever brought me here, it must've been the thing that got him killed.

Wanna know what happened next? [...] Yeah, me too."

Nine (represented by a DVD case)

"*sigh* Alright, then. Let's get it out of the way, one last time, if you will. My name is Nine. In my youth, I engineered seven mechanical tails to defend myself with, and for a couple of years at this point, I've been looking out for myself in this hellscape known only as New Yolk. Kinda sure a few of you will know the rest. [...] I met Sonic, beelined with a Paradox Prism shard, discovered the Grim, and even helped Sonic keep those shards out of the greedy hands of the Chaos Council.

That said, the more recent endeavours are ones I'm not proud of. Turns out, holding a whole Prism in your hands to terraform a Shatterspace is the worst idea I could think of, and it almost killed everyone around me. I... got what I deserved in those days...

[...] After Sonic and Shadow left for good, I ditched my mechanical namesakes and just... gave up. Left the Grim behind, and spent a long time in my workshop just passing the days.

Thankfully, it wasn't all doom and gloom for me. A young rabbit girl, whose name was... Crème Brûlée, I think? She often came down to check up on me, and always let me know how the city was recovering after we sent the Chaos Council's sorry butts into the Shatterverse's depths.

And then one day, something pretty crazy happened. I know I've seen crazy things before, but the fact an entirely different Sonic wound up here confirmed my theory that there were MANY worlds beyond the Shatterverse. [...]

It also had me thinking; with all the times life has knocked me down, even when I've been thrown curveballs, is it really an easy feat to just get back up again? Well, with what's coming next and a chance to look into the further multiverse, not really much point in pondering so much."

OMT!Mina (represented by a SEGA Saturn disc)

"Alright, people. Let's start from the beginning one last time. My name is Mina Mongoose. I gained super-speed in my own fashion, and for a couple of years, I've been the leading star hero of my universe. You guys know the rest. I led a band, saved my buddies... I couldn't save my best friends, Sonic and Tails, so now I save everyone else. And I barely do friends anymore, just to keep distractions to a minimum.

And one day, this weird thing happened. And I mean, like, really weird. When I was leaving my dimension with another Sonic, I ended up getting blown into last week by something. Literally! I landed in Central City, which wasn't my Station Square. [...] My instincts told me to head to Bumper High School, and well, the rest is history with that one! I didn't know why I needed to until I met you."

Mini Sonic (represented by a Nokia phone)

"Okay, let's do it one last time, and cut to the chase. I'm Sonic the Hedgehog! Well, arguably smaller than one would expect, of course, but I'm still the hero of my land. Pretty sure you know the rest by now. Freed my animal friends from robots, and fought my Robotnik a couple of dozen times by that point.

In my universe, it's constantly 1992 tops, and I'm pretty quick to leap into action! I like to chow on chilli dogs, and I like fighting robots. A lot. [...] Well, I mean, I have fallen victim to getting knocked out every 10 minutes or so at West Side Island, even when I've already gotten past an area.

Okay, so something weird happened earlier today. How I got here? It's a long story. (cut to a shot of Mini Sonic flying out a portal and being bounced around Balloon Park) Er, okay, maybe not that long, then. But yeah, no matter how many times I get knocked about, I can definitely keep moving each time!"

Mr. Needlemouse (represented by a VHS tape)

(Will come a little later.)

EX!Alice (represented by a SEGA CD/EX disc)

"Okay, then. Let's do this one last time. My name's Alice, and I'm a survivor of the twisted crystalline demon known only as Xenophanes. I don't know if you know the rest, so I'll sum it up for you; I used to work under him, but eventually defected and left for a quiet, isolated life away. I never told my family where I was, but at least it spared them the heartache when he and his new assistant, Caffrin, claimed me and took me into his world, sealing me in a vessel akin to Amy Rose.

But I was soon tired of being a punching bag to them, and so I decided to act. I patched myself up and fought valiantly, but lost. And I lost again. And again and again, and again. However, things changed when Veronica, Caffrin's big sister, wound up in that world solely by choice. And together, we actually made a difference. Caff defected in the end and helped us kill Xeno, but... it cost her her life in the end.

I stayed behind to pick up the pieces that the monster left behind, even after the other souls moved on. It got me dabbling in tech maintenance, and I eventually was able to integrate some of the leftover dark matter into "Sonic 3 - Zone 6: Round 3", or "E4-R6:3", for short. It essentially gave me a psychic link with that modified Big Arms mech, saving me some effort in pulling levers and pushing buttons.

Just today, something weird happened. Yes, the same weird thing that everyone else here ended up in, so it's not really a long story. Good thing I was piloting E4 at the time, so I didn't suffer any injuries on my way here. I was able to figure where I needed to get to from there, and the rest is history."

More than One Universe

Antho (represented by a comic cover)

"Alright, let’s back it up from here. My name is Anthony Miller the Hedgehog, or just "Antho", for short, and for the past year or so, I and a group of friends have become the new heroes of my Mobius. But it wasn’t always like that you see.

You see, I was just your average normal nerdy hedgehog until something with a super collider changed my appearance and gave me some knowledge of a multiverse or something. Oh, and I’m pretty sure there was a T-Rex-. Oh no, wait! That was added to the script to make it more dramatic.

Anyways, aside from that. It was also the day we lost our Sonic… and I saw it with my own eyes… thanks to that monster, Mammoth Mogul. Ever since then, the Dark Ages happened, and I was never the same again. But not until I stood up and took vengeance against Mogul himself and since then, I’ve restored the faith of Mobius, met new friends and allies, some of which I can now consider family, and am now living in our beloved hero’s legacy.

But despite that, it's still kinda hard work, and I sometimes feel like I can’t live up to Sonic’s standards and how he was the saviour of us all. But deep down, I know he's proud of me, and having my friends, family and the main cast by my side has helped.

I can’t be the next Sonic, even if some otherworldly hedgehog says otherwise. But this is my world and my rules. And I’m doing my own thing, whether you like it or not."

Nitro (represented by a comic cover)

"Well, you probably know the drill by this point, so let's do it one last time. Or... is it the SECOND last time? Eh, never mind. My name is Christopher Smith, and for a couple of years, I've been the one and only... Nitro the Hedgehog. I doubt you know the rest, so I'll sum it up; I fled from my old home into Mobius, helped in the war against Eggman, and even saved the multiverse from possible destruction at the hands of Toxinfect. [...]

That said, with all the times I've been knocked down, I haven't always been able to keep on moving. In an older timeline I came from, I suffered from long-term depression that I hid from everyone. At least, until a mini "Smol" version of myself revealed it, by which point I got some much-needed therapy. [...] But of course, there have been positives. I saved a newer friend from the clutches of a corrupt corporate boss, met amazing friends across the multiverse, and even got girlfriends out of my Amy and Mina. [...]

Just today, of course, something weird happened. A portal opened under my feet, and I had to go to the hospital for a bit after some creatures gnawed at my legs. We waited a little bit, and then we saw that portal open into OMT!Tails's house. Wanna see what comes next now? Same! But before we do..."

CU!Sonic and CU!Sonia (represented by a comic cover)

CU!Sonic: ...It's time for us to do this-

CU!Sonia: -one last time!

CU!Sonic: Heh, knew you'd get the drill, mini-blue! So anyway, I'm Sonic, and this is my little daughter, Sonia. For a while, I've been the hero of my world. Pretty sure you know the rest! I got together with Amy, we had Sonia, and I've continued saving the world countless times. We did get into some tough love at times, but we always sorted it out!

CU!Sonia: Ah, erm... You gonna mention what happened with... mom?

CU!Sonic: Oh, er... I'm... not really sure if I can muster up the courage myself...

CU!Sonia: Come to think of it, I don't really remember what happened, but... she's no longer with us. Ever since, dad's been raising me on his own.

CU!Sonic: Right. Sonia's really the only family I have left, so while looking after her (and a mix of her keeping me right, of course), I've also been helping keep my home safe from criminal organisations trying to take advantage of things. [...] One day, however, something weird happened.

CU!Sonia: We saw a portal just open up in front of us during our walk, and we met other friends on the other side!

CU!Sonic: Sure you wanna know what happens next as much as me, so let's cut it here.

D-Sides Mighty (represented by a SEGA Genesis box art)

"Well, let's get this out of the way once more, and I doubt it'll be the last time. So my name's Mighty the Armadillo. As you can see, I'm not red, but purple. I've been generally going my own route in life, but I'm pretty sure you know the basic gist of it; I've helped defend the world from Maria Robotnik, who IS still living in my universe, before you ask, spent plenty of time with my little bro, Ray, and aspired to do things off-the-script.

Of course, you know about those "EXE" things or whatever you call 'em, right? Well, there's a few of them that take my shape instead of that of Claws, for whatever reason. Shows how inconsistent my whole multiverse is, huh? So, fast-forward a bit, I met a sweet kid named Hefty, he fell in love with my version of Honey... Kinda similar to how EV had it on his end. But even with the script loose and literally no sense of "canon", I always find a way to keep on moving, no matter what tries to knock me down. Even with that... MightMurderer entity.

Trust me, I felt that cosmic tremor as much as anybody else did, and me and my crew felt it warranted some investigation. Claws and Tails picked to hang behind just in case anything broke into our universe, while me, Ray, Honey and Hefty came here to figure out just what was going on. Guess we found the answer quicker than I expected, huh?"

Black Knight Amy (represented by the Sonic & The Black Knight cover art)

More than One Universe Intro

"Well, you know the drill. Let's get this explained, one last time. I'm Amy, Amy Rose! I'm sure you know a lot about me; my love for Sonic, my enjoyment in tarot card reading, and my Piko-Piko Hammer packs a punch against Eggman's tricks. Though, one day, things went pretty crazy for me.

I was dragged into the kingdom of Camelot by a spell Merlina cast, and I gained these amazing amulets that allow me to control water. Using them, I was able to calm the Knights of the Round Table and halt King Arthur in his tracks. However, the sword Merlina was with, Caliburn, revolted immediately after, citing that all mistakes are to be vanquished from the "perfect world" he envisioned. It took us both to stop him, and I showed that everybody is flawed, but mistakes make us who we are in the end.

After that, I was allowed to use the amulets outside of Camelot, and Merlina kept the gateway between those worlds open so I can visit anytime I want! I also started crushing on Honey a lot more, hehe. Well, as for how I got here, I felt the big tremor shaking the area and knew it warranted me to check it out. When I came through that portal, that's when I came across a version of Sonic who looked like he was on drugs, and... yeah!"

Into the Sonic-verse Expanded Explanation

"You know, I've found things pretty easy going to begin with! I even got a daily routine going. I wake up, skip workouts since I'm already naturally strong and I don't want to get any muscles, you know? I don't need to do anything with my wondrous hair...

OMT!Tails: You don't use any product on it?

BK!Amy: I only really need strawberry shampoo and a dash of coconut oil to keep it fresh, hehe!

So anyway, I also read my tarot cards daily to plan out my luck, fight some of Eggy's goons, bring fruit for the local Chao Garden in Station Square... The usual stuff! And I even have a quick break for a cup of chai with Yasmine and Samia in Shamar!

OMT!Tails: Chai tea, huh?

(record scratch)

BK!Amy: Tails! "Chai" means "tea"! It's like you're saying "tea tea"! Would I ask you for a "coffee coffee" with a side of "cream cream"? O-Oh! Sorry, heh. Got a little carried away there.

OMT!Tails: Yeah, sorry about that.

Well, I've started hanging out more with Honey as well. She's a really amazing fashion designer, and she's quite strong to boot! And while helping out Sonic, I also help keep good old Camelot safe from harm! Quick tour for you guys; Misty Lake, Camelot Castle, the Deep Woods, Titanic Plain, the Crystal Caves and Molten Mine, Faraway Avalon, Knight's Passage, Shrouded Forest, Great Megalith, the Cauldron, and the Dragon's Lair! Phew, that sure was a lot, huh?"

Ex-Prince Brian (represented by a SEGA Genesis cartridge)

(Will come a little later.)

Hog (represented by the GIGA console)

"Okay, then. I'm getting this off my chest one last time. I'm a bootleg, yes, but I still got my own super-speed on the table! And for a while, I've been the one and only... Hog the Tenrec! Pretty sure you know the rest; met some cool buddies, defeated ol' Dr. Yolkman dozens of times, and showed my rival Fists who's boss.

Well, that was until... HE struck. I lost control of my body, and this hedgehog who accused me and my friends of "replacing" his world laid torment upon my home, until I broke free. Needless to say, I was furious and itchin' to get back at him. Though, it all came at the cost of my world. I shouldn't've survived that, but I got warped out to CrossRealm Sonic's world before I perished.

It took me some time to recover, but I'm still ready to help protect a world no matter what. Because, no matter how many times I'm knocked down, for the sake of my fallen friends, I'll keep on movin'! I got here with Sonic after we felt that soft tremor and some portals popped up at one spot. So, yeah! That pretty much sums it up for me."

Wacky (represented by a special disc of her own)

"Well, let's do this one last time! I'm Wacky the Erizo, a bootleg just like Hog, and I got my own world to boot. I'm kinda sure you know the rest; I saved my world from Dr. Sunnyside, fell in love with Starburst, saved the land a few more times, blah blah blah. You know how it is. I also got sucked into a new land, and met this creepy broken being that called itself "Bizarro".

They tried to possess me, but as long as I kept my eyes shut, they couldn't take full control of me. I really didn't like them. But other than that, you really expect me to take things seriously all the time? I barely take anything seriously. I still remain curious about that big screen in my world's sky, though. Why is someone new always appearing on it...?

Though, I felt that tremor as much as I imagine anyone else did, and it happened to knock Bizarro right out of me. They faded away soon after. After that, while I was glad I was still in full control for good, I knew something needed to be done about whatever the heck happened.

So, Zanie provided me a way between worlds, using that same tech Dr. Sunnyside used to knock us into next week, quite literally in this case. I've seen crazy things, but nothing could be crazier than trying to get a black and red ghost under control just now."

Devy (represented by a comic strip)

(Will come a little later.)

EV!Sonic (represented by a comic strip)

"Yeah, they figured out the reality, so I'm just gonna do this one last time. My name is Maurice. I gained super-speed in my own fashion, and for some time, I've been the one and only... Sonic the Hedgehog! ...of my universe, I mean. Pretty sure you know the rest.

I overcame depression from fans' harsh criticism on my games, beat Phantom Ruby cases THREE times, fell in love with Nova, and saved my world and surrounding universe countless times. Same here as it was in the old timeline. "Old timeline?", I hear you ask?

Well, in that old timeline, I stepped down and passed on the mantle of protecting Mobius to Nitro, who I trained quite well. Though, I lost a close friend there, and we had to put up with a heartless company replacing people with clones of themselves.

Then a whole bright light consumed everything and the entire universe underwent a full-blown reset, if you will. Brian's all safe and sound, the Puhoi Curse is now non-existent, Clover's been enjoying life on the surface again with Frisk and Chara and the other ex-fallen humans, and ol' Eggy's been split between his old self and Mr. Tinker. To be honest, I like Tinker a lot more.

EV!Eggman (in the background): I HEARD THAT! ...Wait, what did you say about timelines?

EV!Sonic: Eh, just ignore him.

So anyway, sometime after Eggman Prime got all these supervillains together in one place to try and kill my original self, Sonic Prime, I met Tekno the Canary with my friends, and the two of us started our elite strike force dedicated to protecting the multiverse. It started with eight of us, and by this point, it's pretty much in the hundreds! And better still, I'm still available to actively keep my world safe from harm.

Me and Nitro already knew what was coming when those portals showed up, and that brings us to this point. Wanna know how it continues? Me too!"

OMT!Tails (represented by his own PC game box)

(Find his here.)

Across All Worlds

"Alright, then. Let's do this one last time. This time, I mean it! My name is Miles Prower. One day, my twin tail became my blessing, Sonic saved me from some bullies, and for the last 33 years, I've been the one and only... Tails! Of my universe, of course. And things have been pretty awesome since I strung out on my own a year and 9 months ago. Catching all sorts of bad guys...

I refurbished my nanomachine suit, with a metal sheen to blend in with robots. Kaede and her siblings moved over to Emerald Town, Dr. Robotnik got graduated as a professor at Balloon Park University, I guest-hosted Speed-Three, endorsed in motion sickness prevention classes, developing a new twist on my electric hand thing...

How much longer can I keep things under a steady hold? I mean, would every world get it if I shared my stories? Eh, maybe in another timeline. Sometimes, I just wish me and Detective Ghost weren't the only ones doing this gig. But I haven't been dwelling too much on it. (cut to him doing child-like sketches of the Blur Gang, a LOT of which are of Mina)

I do miss Sonic and Sally a lot, though. Even with everything that went down with them, I try to do what Sally told me... "Enjoy the future for her". But at the end of the day, I am the hero of Mobius. And nobody can take that away from me!"

Many More Heroes (as a taunt to LM!Sonic)

"My name is Miles "Tails" Prower... [...] I inherited my best friend's mantle because he wanted me to. [...] I'm pretty sure you know the rest, jerk!"

Funkinverse Crossover

Benjamin Miku (Boyfriend of Earth-111723)

"Alright! Let's do this one last time! ...again. My name is Benjamin Miku. I dropped out of high-school, got a snazzy microphone, and for the last 2 years, I've been my universe's one and only... Boyfriend! I'm pretty sure you know the rest. I sang with some people, fell in love with Grace Dearest, fought off the Corruption, befriended the other Dearests... you know the drill! And, uh... I did this. (footage of "Really Happy") Yeah, we don't really talk about this.

Of course, one day, a year after my musical career kickstarted, the gateway to our wider universe opened. One minute, I remember being 17 with Grace, then the next, us and our siblings got younger. I remember me being 13 as part of some "age-halt" last I checked. Though it got me more involved in action and helped me achieve new feats, like becoming the hero I know my world needs and deserves.

And through it all, even with the bumps in the road, I've really enjoyed my career as a fellow successor to my big sister, and being the "Boyfriend" as a whole! And to me, being a kind and selfless soul is what I feel should encapsulate any Boyfriend out there. Music is something that's all around us, everywhere in the whole world. And if we share it with each other in harmony, it really brings us all together.

I may not be the exact same Boyfriend my world intended on, but if anyone needs my help, I'll be ready to do my job! And if you expect me to abide by supposed fate? Nah. I'll be doing things my way, whether you like it or not. In my eyes, anyone can wield the microphone if they wish to, and I'm sure as heck not the only one out there by far. I'm the hero of my own story, and nothing can take that from me!"

Across All Worlds

Scourge (represented by one of his own comic covers)

(Inspired by this)

"HEY! Sit down, shut up, and lemme cut this short! The name's Scourge, and yeah, you can say me an' the multiverse ain't exactly 'friends', per se. The runts of the litter around my planet like calling me "Evil Sonic". "Anti-Sonic". Pft! Can't imagine why. With my speed, and a leg up on the royal ladder, I took over my entire planet! Took down any pretty punk who dared disobeying me, and made anarchy my one way or the highway!

And to think, through all that... I was still a nobody! A cheap knock-off of the real Sonics across time and space! A dull flash in a pan of big blue wimps. I needed a change, and a total... royal... makeover! [...] A quick trip to my blue alternate's goody-goody dimension, a magic power boost and a little setback later... Ooh, yeah! I was a frickin' beast!

And when the Sonic connected to me tried steppin' up to my plate? Super Scourge showed 'im a thing or two! ...Didn't last very long, though. Got me thrown into f*ckin' multiverse prison! But with my gang of crooks bustin' me out and lickin' the Zone Cops off my tail, we were stakin' on BIG plans for the Sonic of my line and his pigs! The key word almost being, er... "were".

This alternate Eggman once hired me to trash this Sonic Prime fella, though that didn't work out as we hoped. But when this creepy Doc Finitevus guy proposed a plan for us to conquer the whole multiverse without an Eggman? Hell yeah I was on-board! Look out, however many Sonics plan to come for us, and get ready to hail to the king, baby!"

Many More Heroes

LM!Sonic (during the prologue) (represented by a picture of his fic of origin's artwork on a printed picture)

"I am Sonic the Hedgehog from Dimension SS-2001. I am part of an elite strike force dedicated to the protection of the multiverse-."

OMT!Mina: Actually, forget it.

LEGO Sonic (based on this) (represented by his LEGO Dimensions pack)

"Alright, let's do this one last time! ...again. My name is Sonic. I gained super-speed from being brick-built, and I became the one and only-! (numerous LEGO Sonic figures, including the bootleg ones, appear around him) Okay, scratch that.

After acquiring a keystone device from Baldy McNosehair, I helped heroes across my multiverse take down Joker, Green Goblin, the Cybermen, Lord Business, GLaDOS, the Wicked Witch of the West... You know, the big ones! I even teamed up with some bad guys to take down Lord Vortech that one time! Although... we don't really talk about that. And I even saved the original LEGO HQ from Eggy when he took the place over!

Anyways, that's just me. What about you?"

(cut to show he was talking to an unamused Crimtake)

Pana Der Hejhog (represented by a SEGA Genesis cartridge)

"Aight. My name is Pana. Pana Der Hejhog. I gained my-. Eh, wouldn't you like to know? And for the past 13 years, I've been the one and only... Look, didn't I state my name to you already? C'mon outta it!

That's when I'm not running around Mystic Island, keeping forced winter at bay, chasing off my Robotnik, chilling out in the sunshine, practicing music with Mina or having a laugh at Gust Planet's bar. I'm no role model, but I was briefly a runway model.

I dislike political fronts, I hate slimy companies, and I'm especially not into labels. I don't call myself a hero despite the good deeds I do, because the absolute jerks in society who claim they're in the right are self-mythologizing narcissistic fools!"

[morocosmos]

#loveintheair Day 7 - Memorial (Free Day)

Fandom: Final Fantasy XIV Characters/Relationships: Leofard Myste/Warrior of Light, Past Haurchefant Greystone/Warrior of Light, Emmanellain de Fortemps (for like one sentence) Warnings: Major character death (mentioned) Prompt List and Event by millymischief Day 1 | Day 2 | Day 3 | Day 4 | Day 5 | Day 6 | Day 7

“Well, old boy! Fancy seeing you one last time before your next great adventure! Might I….” Emmanellain’s voice faded as the great wooden doors shut, leaving Leofard no longer privy to whatever the younger Fortemps son had to say to Moro’a.

A little quiet suited him just fine every now and then. He stuck to the shadow cast by the building, out of sight of any folks; by all accounts he wasn’t here, waiting for Moro’a to say his farewells to those he knew in Camp Dragonhead and Skyfire Locks.

I don’t mind if you are seen with me, Moro’a had said the night before. It’s bound to happen at some point, especially if we’re anywhere near Emmanellain’s nose.

And all the better if he only sniffs us out after we’ve left for Tural, not before, he’d insisted back. Fury, Moro’a needed a better grasp on just how quickly the tabloids could turn a rumour, spreading its roots till it’d embedded itself in every corner of the realm. Perhaps then he’d avoid having his name on their papers every other moon.

Leofard did still like keeping his private life private as well. They could come back to the conversation on the way back to Eorzea.

He waited until the doors swung open again, and he heard quiet footsteps in the snow, walking in his direction. A shadow appeared in the snow in front of him: the hand signal they’d planned before coming to Coerthas. Ready when you are.

He grinned as he joined Moro’a, stepping out into the open. Together they walked through the encampment, under the raised platform where the aetheryte stood and out of the north-eastern entrance. He supposed he should’ve given Moro’a’s planning abilities more credit — the glamour prism he was wearing made him appear as though he were Moro’a’s chocobo, Sal, and nary a suspicion was raised as they left the garrison behind and began the steep climb up the hill that passed the Steel Vigil.

Once they were out of sight and earshot from Camp Dragonhead, Moro’a turned towards Leofard, who dispelled the glamour. There was a question on his face. “I know I’ve asked you once, but…are you certain you wish to follow me to the cliff?”

“I told you before and I’ll tell you the same thing: I’m all for this.” Leofard shrugged, grinning. “‘Sides, I can hardly judge when you see Lady Raimille’s visage presidin’ over me quarters every time you come over...”

Moro’a laughed, a quiet sound that peppered the air with small, white puffs, and made Leofard’s heart leap in a way he still wasn’t used to. “Then I won’t ask again,” he said. 

Satisfied, Leofard fastened one of the buttons on his cloak, trying his best to keep up. He’d never travelled to Ishgard’s surrounding highlands much as a boy, and he had even fewer reasons to do so as a man, so the landscape was unrecognisable to him now. The path became steeper and they passed the remains of the Steel Vigil; high altitudes he could handle without a sweat, but the extreme cold sapped at his energy, though he did his best to hide his struggle.

In contrast, Moro’a moved through the fresh snow like he was born for it, taking steady strides as he cleared an easier path for Leofard with his snowshoes. The knights didn’t travel up this path every day, he’d explained earlier, but he seemed to know where most of the shallower patches fell. The aevises, having since learnt not to violate man and dragon’s new era of peace, left them alone.

As they approached the crest of the hill, Leofard saw it: a humble stone flanked by a shield, erected behind the larger cairns dotting the hill. Moro’a’s steps slowed. As the Keeper passed by the cairn at the centre, he briefly placed his hand on the largest stone, which was miraculously untouched by snow. Leofard made out a faint mark that resembled the symbol of Menphina.

Huh. The mark of the Lover — what a coincidence.

He watched from a few yalms away as Moro’a knelt before the small cenotaph, taking out a small bouquet of flowers from a wooden case and laying them before the stone. He was silent, but Leofard could tell that he was talking, his head turning slightly here and there as he regaled the memorial with whatever it was he wished to say to his former lover and friend.

Haurchefant Greystone…Leofard had scarcely interacted with the other nobles, let alone their children while he was raised under House Roulchardon, but even he had learnt of Count Edmont de Fortemps’s second son — a bastard child who’d been permitted to live under his lord father’s roof. It made him appreciate Lady Raimille’s delicate penchant for secrecy, at least until he’d grown old enough to resent the archaic rules that bound him and the rest of the “highborn” in chains. But to hear anyone tell his tales now, the man was a godsdamned hero, his name now preserved for his part in bringing an end to the Dragonsong War by saving the Saviour of Ishgard.

Yet even a hero was not exempt from the rumour mills. Tall tales of Moro’a’s relationship with Haurchefant had hit the papers well before the latter’s untimely demise. Leofard only skimmed through the drivel to keep his finger on what was happening in Ishgard, but he clearly remembered the day they’d announced Lord Haurchefant’s passing — along with insinuations, some barbed, about whom the Champion of Eorzea kept his bed warm with for moons after.

Moving a little closer, Leofard identified the flowers Moro’a had chosen for such a man. Tiny and powder blue…forget-me-nots. Hells, if it didn’t make him just a teensy bit insecure; just how was he supposed to measure up to someone who’d sacrificed his own life for his lover? Moro’a seldom spoke of Haurchefant as it was, and though Leofard had never asked for a benchmark, it didn’t help that he hadn’t a clue what it really took to be the former Warrior of Light’s partner in crime…

He was being a dolt — Moro’a had never asked that of him to begin with. Shifting from one foot to the other, he kept a calm expression as Moro’a rose from Haurchefant’s memorial. His eyes were wet, but to Leofard’s relief he was smiling.

“What did you tell him?” he asked lightheartedly, not really expecting an answer as Moro’a stepped away from the stone. He could count on Moro’a to be full of surprises, though, for he answered. “I told him about what’s happened since the Final Days ended — going to the Thirteenth, meeting Zero and Golbez, Vrtra and Azdaja. About travelling to Tural, because I can’t seem to stop myself from seeing new places and helping people along the way.” He seemed embarrassed, even a little flustered, as he added, “I told him about you.”

“Me? Well I’ll be,” Leofard preened; he was a little too pleased over the fact. “I won’t pry, but I do demand that the favour be returned in kind.” Moro’a tilted his head, and so Leofard tried again. “How am I to live up to and beyond his gilded reputation when I don’t yet know what kind of a man he was to you, eh?”

“You…” In one stride, Moro’a stood in front of him and reached for his shoulders, pulling him down to kiss him. Leofard was happy to return it — so what if he was a little bit in love? When they finally parted, Moro’a let out an exasperated sigh. “You can start by simply being you,” he asserted. “A man with a heart for adventure.”

Leofard could do that. It would be the simplest thing in the world. “But since you asked…I’ll tell you more about him sometime,” Moro’a added tentatively. He fidgeted with a loop on the sky pirate’s jacket. “Remind me, alright? And thank you. For coming here with me.”

Damn you, Leofard thought, for saying things like that so easily. They would leave for Old Sharlayan soon, and such carefree affection would briefly come to an end. Better make the best of their time before that — wrapping his arm around Moro’a’s shoulder, he drew the Keeper close for another kiss.

[hitchell-mope]

I finally finished Modern Family.

It took about four years. And that’s only because season ten arrived on Disneyplus in 2023 and season eleven arrived on Disneyplus on New Year’s Day 2024. Two and three years after I’d watched the first nine seasons during lockdown. But anyway. All is forgiven. Because it really was an amazing sitcom. So here’s my little retrospective.

What I liked about the show:

I think one of my favourite parts about the show is that Jay left Dede not because of an affair, but because he just couldn’t cope with her anymore. Even nowadays the man leaving the woman because the love had disappeared is an incredibly rare occurrence.

I like how well Mitchell and Cameron balance each other out. They’re both a little camp. But Mitchell has the realism going for him and Cameron is the sports honcho. I just think they did a good job of evening out the personality traits.

I know not many people agree. But I rather like Haley ending up with Dylan. I liked Andy as well. But sometimes the first love wins out you know?

Tying into point one. I liked that while Gloria was younger than Jay. She wasn’t YoungerTM than Jay. He was nearing sixty. She was in her mid thirties. Again. Even nowadays that kind of age gap is still an incredibly rare occurrence.

This is going to be controversial. BUT. I’m actually okay with the hbo type of jokes that they had. It’s probably because I watch supernatural and friends and the Simpsons. But in a show like this. The shipping options are kinda limited. Plus a lot of them were in the same age range. So looking at it from like a “Jane Goodall perspective”. I’m okay with the hbo type of jokes. It was just the right amount of Crossing The Line Twice.

Barring that one season nine episode. I’m happy that they never treated Dede with undeserved sympathy. That type of woman doesn’t deserve to be liked.

I really liked Joe. He was hilarious. It’s just a shame he didn’t get a lot of one on one interaction with Mitchell. Apart from that he was great.

Mitchell and Cameron’s wedding. It was a great two episodes.

Pepper Saltzman. He’s played by Nathan Lane. Where else was I going to put him?

Jay’s development with Mitchell. Claire was obviously his favourite. But it was nice to see how far he and Mitchell got by the end of the show.

What I didn’t like about the show:

This is a big one. While I liked that Alex and Arvin got together, at last someone that matched her intellect that she didn’t feel ashamed of finding physically attractive, I really did not like how she basically got shamed into quitting her lucrative career by a load of uppity college students. Just because she’s smart doesn’t mean she has to do the difficult job. She’s allowed to take the easy way out.

This is a little petty. But given Phil’s almost debilitating coulrophobia. It’s a shame that Fizbo and The Amazing Phil couldn’t take the circus world by storm.

I get that Claire wasn’t Dylan’s biggest fan. But for all her, justified, admonishments at Jay for how he treats Phil. She could’ve tried a little harder to break the cycle.

Pameron. Jessica. Tucker. She’s basically just a live action version of Gayle Genarro. Except lucid and aware of the chaos she causes. Baby Calhoun, however, is adorable.

Sal whatever-her-last-name-is. Hilarious. But grating.

Between all three of the Dunphy kids, Mitchell’s actor being part of the original cast for The 25th Annual Putnam County Spelling Bee and Cameron’s whole thing. It’s a shame that the show never had a proper musical episode.

Dede. Just. Dede.

Farrah Marshall. Claire was right. She really WAS Dede reincarnated. Only more spacey.

The fact that Dylan and Haley got Mitchell and Cameron’s old house and not the new house that was literally perfect for a growing family like theirs.

The fact that Covid and the resultant lockdown turned the finale into an Allegedly Optimistic Ending. Which is why we really need a reunion movie

Character ranking: For the purposes of this I’ll be making clumps of characters because I just can’t decide. I’ll also be including the extended family. Like so.

Luke, Phil, Joe, Haley, Gloria, Dylan and Manny

Jay, Claire, Mitchell, Cameron, Lily, Alex, Poppy and George.

Frank, Merle, Barb and Calhoun.

Dede, Farrah, Jerry and Pam.

And that concludes my retrospective. Let me know if I missed anything out.

[spectralsleuth]

In your LSoW series would Leo ever want to get a summer job as a Life Guard? Outside of him being a turtle that can already swim well, he seems pretty knowledgeable in medical things. So I'm assuming he would know how to tend to cuts and bruises along with knowing CPR

Oh wow what a good idea! I might steal this lol. I can see it playing out as maybe Leo does it because he genuinely likes it, but it gets a little twisted into a publicity stunt by the press and social media. So he does it for a season and makes all the right statements about loving it, letting people take photos, etc. But. He might lose his taste for it a little and only do it for a season because of the attention. (Leo likes to weaponize attention/publicity, but when it invades genuine personal things it kind of stings.)

(Kind of a long tangent coming up here as well- sorry in advance!)

Fun fact- my Leo is in no way the (sole) medic! I never really bought into that fancanon, as fun as it is to think about. All the turtles have an equal amount of first aid knowledge in LSoW, which is to say a LOT when you are a giant sentient turtle unwilling to get the government involved. I mentioned the turtles medical bracelets a couple of times in 'Raph Joins the Team', and 'Locker'- they all have one. They mostly say things like, DO NOT give any kind of treatment without consultation with: and then a list of names of their doctors, Sal, Yoshi, and a (secret) last person. This is in case (as most medical bracelets are) they're unconscious for whatever reason, or can't speak to medical help. All of their medical records come home with them after appointments, and the way they store it is INCREDIBLY secure. I looked into how legal that would be in the state of New York, but from what I gather given their special situation I'm sure the director of whatever hospital they mainly have their appointments at would get them special consideration etc. This still means samples and stuff get out a little bit, and Bishop has collected SOME information on them medically. But as noted in 'Knight Takes Bishop' it's frustratingly little. (And less now that Donnie has a say lmao.)

Dr. Carter is in this series a lot, but Dr. Heo is doing a lot of work behind the scenes. She's the one that figures out their medication, allergies- everything from the lotion they use, to the vitamins they take, to what kind of anesthetic they used on Raph in '25 cents'. That took a TEAM of anesthesiologists on standby that Raph didn't know about, because he's EIGHT lmao. It was also a trial run, in case they ever DID have to do surgery on the turtles. Dr. Heo wanted to know for a FACT what wouldn't kill them, and Dr. Carter performed the procedure to monitor. Also to lend his expertise, because the dentists were understandably terrified of losing a finger lmao.

(Hm. I wonder what kind of events coming up might call for surgery on a turtle...)

[drawnecromancy]

(transparent/white background)

Maran of Neseah

At 21 years old, he is by far the youngest of the royal family. As the 6th and last child, he got the opportunity to do whatever he wanted, and he chose to become a mage. Despite being young, he is scarily skilled. There's no way to tell how far he'll go !

Notes.

He is the only one of his family to survive Neseah's Fall.

After the fall, he becomes a cook while secretly looking for a way to, mh, get revenge for his family's destruction.

Eventually finds out where Velyal, the guy who was the royal family's court wizard, lives and forces him to teach him spatial magic - a branch of magic designed to fuck with reality itself.

Eventually marries (secretly) that man.

They work together on a hidden place to preserve what few things are left of their past.

Fucking with reality has consequences, and in Maran's case, he gets himself badly hurt and partially eaten by something that's not quite vibing with reality.

He and Velyal's project becomes a weird fucking maze as a result.

Velyal is forced to erase his own memories and Maran ends up staying alone, hidden in his maze.

The only thing he has left from his husband is a construct - a creation of jewel and magic - a lizard named Sal.

He's not doing well.

He won't be doing well for the next 1000-ish years.