#seeing they’ve only had bad things happen to em ���
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The Mikes and Vanessas celebrate 10 years of FNAF!
#myart#chloesimagination#comic#fnaf#five nights at freddy's#michael afton#mike schmidt#fnaf vanny#fnaf vanessa#vanessa afton#vanessa shelly#freddy fazbear#fnaf movie#security breach#fnaf anniversary#HAPPY FNAF anniversary week!!!#I WANTED to draw a lil thing in celebration 🎉#I’ll probably draw more things throughout the week in celebration#no doubt I’ll have more to draw after announcements/games drop#SUPER excited !!#SO OBVIOUSLY Michael and Vanessa are very excited for the anniversary#they still like Freddy’s after all#they need any excuse they can get to have a good time#though Mike and Vanny aren’t as enthusiastic you could say#Mike think they probably shouldn’t celebrate at all#seeing they’ve only had bad things happen to em 💀#and Vanny is just not even arguing just straight up nah#I bet they’ll get more into the spirit as the week goes on tho 🩵💜#it’s been awhile since I’ve last drawn all 4 of them together!!#so felt the most fitting for rn they return the crew ever
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It's a Match! || poly!141 x Reader
[Chapter 20] || [Chapter 22]
Pairing: Gaz x Reader x Ghost x Soap || 141 x gn!Reader Words: 1.2K~ cw: - Summary: While overcoming recent heartbreak, you decide to join Tinder in search of a rebound. Your friends advise to just Swipe Right indiscriminately... What happens when 4 soldiers from the same squad match with you? a/n: yikes.
Chapter 21: I BEG YOUR PARDON?
It was a familiar sight.
Gaz across the desk, Soap next to him behind the spare chair, Ghost in the back of the room a foot against the wall and arms crossed.
Except this time, Price was standing up, pacing the narrow space behind his desk, from the window to the wall.
“Explain it to me slow.” He demanded. “Like I’m five years old.” He had his arms crossed over his chest as he paced.
“Well, when Ma and Da love each other very much-” Soap began.
“Soap, I will put your head through the bloody wall.” Price threatened.
The shit-eating grin that had been on the Scot’s mouth was suppressed by a pressing of lips together, rapid blinking, and a nod. He had tried and failed at having a laugh at the Captain’s expense.
“Sorry, sir.” He replied.
“Explain.” Price demanded again, hands folded behind his back.
“I started it.” Ghost said from his corner of the room. “Kept talkin’ with ‘em after you had your little one-night stand.”
The younger sergeants didn’t look over. It’s become a strange thing to see Ghost at work, when they’ve gotten a bit more familiarized with Simon instead, back in your flat.
“Why?” Price asked in earnest as he looked at Ghost, stopping in his tracks to properly face him.
“‘Cause they make me feel good.” Ghost replied and crossed his arms.
Price stared at Ghost and, for a moment, his glare softened and his brow relaxed. “I see.”
With a deep breath, the older man tossed himself down onto his desk chair, legs spread and hands resting on his thighs.
“That doesn’t explain the two of you lot.” He pointed at Gaz and Soap.
“I found out about Ghost dating ‘em after they reached out to me to check on him because he went MIA.” Gaz replied.
“And how does that in you bein’ a bloody… polycule?” Price asked.
“I sort of took ‘em on a date on accident and realized how they made me feel and that I wanted to date ‘em.” Gaz said simply.
“And I thought Gaz and Ghost were dating and then found out they’re in fact also dating the same person and not just each other and-” Soap began to explain.
“Pump the breaks.” Price demanded. “Dating each other?” He repeated, sounding like he was this close to blowing a gasket.
“Nicely done, mate.” Gaz said sarcastically and hid his face in his palm, accidentally dislodging his baseball hat from his head.
“I BEG YOUR PARDON? YOU BLOODY FUCKIN’ IDIOTS ARE DATIN’ EACH OTHER?” Price raised his voice and stood up swiftly, sending the chair rolling back against the cabinets behind him.
When no one replied, he glared specifically at Ghost in the back of the room who, himself, was looking off to the side and looked at Price with an incriminating gaze..
“SIMON’S IN YOUR DIRECT CHAIN OF COMMAND!” Price scolds… Soap and Gaz only. “DO YOU KNOW THE TROUBLE THAT CAN BRING?!”
The three men remain silent, eyes forced open out of worry that blinking again will just set the captain off some more.
“IT’S ALREADY BAD ENOUGH THAT YOU’RE ALL DIPPIN’ YOUR DAMN COCKS IN THE SAME HOLE LIKE THEY’RE SOME SORT OF BARRACKS BUNNY BUT-” Price continued his tirade.
“Calm down.” Ghost commanded as he pushed away from the wall and approached the desk.
“Simon, don’t you tell me to calm down.” John ordered, though his voice sounded a lot more calm indeed.
“I’ll tell you to calm down if I reckon I should.” Ghost quipped and set his hand on the edge oof the desk, using his height to go toe-to-toe with their boss.
“You had fun with ‘em too, didn’t you?” Ghost asked with a cocked brow.
“That’s neither here nor there-”
“Cut the bullshit. Answer the bloody question.” Ghost commanded.
“I did.” Price admitted with a grumble and looked away.
“We’re just enjoyin’ ourselves too.” Ghost replied. “They’re considerate, funny, good company…” He trailed off.
“And they have a bloody flat that we can spend time in, with a proper kitchen for good meals, and a proper bedroom with a comfortable bed, and a proper shower that doesn’t have 20 other blokes bum ass naked-” Gaz joked.
“Right, it’s only 2 other blokes instead.” Soap added and him and Gaz nudged each other, earning a stern glare from the two officers in the room.
“Point is-” Ghost replied as he looked at Price. “You saw they’re nice.” He said directly. “Can’t fault us for likin’ ‘em.” He said directly.
“No, but I can fault you idiots for bein’ involved with each other on TOP of ‘em.” Price argued.
“Okay, so it’s not our proudest moment-” Ghost acknowledged. “But it’s happenin’. And you need to keep your mouth shut.” He demanded.
“OF BLOODY COURSE I’M KEEPIN’ MY MOUTH SHUT, SIMON! Fuckin’ hell!” Price complained and threw his hands up before turning to grab a cigar from his case.
“The brass will have all our bollocks f’r breakin’ nonfraternization rules. You f’r doin’ it, me f’r knowin’ it.” He grumbled as he cut the tip of his cigar with a huff.
“Not to mention I’ve been involved in this mess to begin with ‘cause I let you lot talk me into havin’ a one-night stand with ‘em.” Price continued, murmuring under his breath and scolding them without really scolding them.
“I can never get a ’old of you lot noawadays.” Price explained. “You’re meant to be on call.” He reiterated. “Always reachable. Always ready to fly out.”
“Yet I had to call Soap over 40 times two weeks ago ‘cause he was ‘asleep’-” He continued his rant.
“Aye, I was.” Soap replied, earning a shush from Gaz and a smack on the arm.
“And the moment we dismiss you lot from debriefs or meetings, you’re all running off to go be with ‘em, ‘xcept I didn’t know that was the reason until now, and it’s so much bloody worse than I ‘xpected.” Price complained.
The man was halfway through lighting his cigar and taking a puff when Ghost spoke again.
“If they didn’t find out about Cardiff, London, Cairo, Cabo, or Tel Aviv, they won’t find out now.” Ghost retorted.
Price whipped around so fast the younger lads could swear he’d give himself whiplash. “Don’t you bring that up.” He said to Ghost as he used his cigar to point at Ghost.
“I’m just sayin’.” Ghost replied, completely calm and unbothered. “If the brass hasn’t found out about the shite we’ve done while on the field, they won’t find out about us during leave.” He replied.
“Simon-” Price tried starting before he huffed through his nose and rubbed his eyes with his fingers. Ghost simply shrugged and crossed his arms over his broad chest.
“Bloody fuckin’ ‘ell.” Price complained and sat back down on his chair, setting down his cigar on the lip of the ashtray and rubbing his face.
“Just get out.” He grumbled and waved them off with a dismissive gesture of his hand.
He didn’t peek from the spot where his face was hidden in his hands as he heard the men shuffling around and leaving the office.
Just as the door slipped to a close behind them, he heard Soap asking Ghost: ‘What happened in Cardiff?’
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taglist (CLOSED! not adding anyone else, sorry!):
@daisychainsinknots , @bunnysdaydreams , @iite-cool , @lahniu , @pagesfalling , @tapioca-milktea1978 , @live-love-be-unique , @thelaisydazy , @littleghosthunter , @bossva , @emotion-no-hot-yes-hotel-trivago , @chamomiletealeaf , @ghosts-hoe , @kariiiel , @ltbarnes , @irregulardongyoung , @spacelia , @hayleybarnesx , @infpt-zylith , @xxshadowbabexx , @frescoisnotinthemilitary , @leeeenistop , @lucienbarkbark
@severenswife , @enarien, @agoodmoviekiss , @l0lziez , @whos-fran , @greatstormcat , @openup-yourmind , @neoarchipelago , @sodavrr , @cutiecusp , @lilliumrorum , @c-nstantine , @kneelforloki , @comeonatmebruh , @codsunshine , @waiting-so-long , @captainquake42 , @gazspookiebear , @mynameismisty , @reap3erslov3 , @reaper-chan666 , @poohkie90 , @kitwithnokat , @stick-the-dumbass , @mothsdrabbles , @justanerd1 , @thesinsoflust , @thriving-n-jiving , @blckbrrybasket
#ikea writes 💚#it's a match! fic#cod modern warfare#cod fanfic#captain john price#john soap mactavish#kyle gaz garrick#simon ghost riley#text story#cod x reader#call of duty x reader#ghost x reader#kyle gaz garrick x reader#soap x reader
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I had a very slaggy night so I here’s some headcanons on my favorite boy Bumblebee! I give him a bit of a feral twist in my writing.
When Bumblebee gets too much energy built up, he gets zoomies. Due to his speed and size they can be a bit destructive. The ONLY thing that can get him to stop is Sari yelling “SIT!” Or distracting him another way.
One of Sari and Bee’s favorite shared activities is Bee dragging Sari around the city in roller skates.
Bee constantly needs some type of oral stimulation or he can get destructive. Mainly stealing Prowl’s stuff in particular. Sari will play tug and fetch with him often to keep his urges at bay.
Bee is insanely flexible. It’s not uncommon to see him scratching one of his horns with his servo.
Bee will carry Sari like a scruffed kitten sometimes. Either to bug her, or because he feels protective. Sari does not enjoy when he does this.
Bee HATES getting washed. He’s also terrified of car washes.
Bee’s favorite spot to be pet or scratched is behind his horns. Instantly his engine will start purring and his servo will start kicking drastically.
Sari will commonly sleep on top of Bumblebee. He don’t mind, he likes having his best buddy close.
Bee and Sari learn things from each other often. Certain sayings or behavior, they tend to copy each other. An example being a time Sari found Bee moping and genuinely crying in his room. She remembered how he comforted her when she broke down in tears, and told him the same thing. “It’ll be ok Bee, let ‘em leak. I’m here for ya. You’re safe. If you wanna tell me what’s wrong, I’ll listen. Ok? Promise.”
As Bee is common to stand on four stabilizers, so he has another electric defense besides his stingers. He can breathe/vent electricity. Similar to a dragon and getting hit by it is deadly to people. Which is why he don’t do it often. Last resort if you will.
Due to Bee’s electric vents, randomly if he bites something it can become jolted by electricity. This can be a good or bad thing mattering on the situation. Though even if Bee can’t control when the jolts happen, he can control how MUCH damage the jolt gives.
Bumblebee works with Carmine as his K9 partner. Neither of them were the most excited at first when finding out they got paired up, but they bond in their own odd way. Carmine can’t hate Bee with his eagerness and optimism.
Bee’s favorite thing to do on patrol is chase down speeders. Though him and Carmine can butt heads on who to go after. They’ve had a couple false alarms where Bee chased down someone not a speeder. Though he’s gotten better at controlling his urges.
Bumblebee can actually be pretty shy when it comes up to other organics. Mainly other K9 officers of his squad. He’s aware how different he is so during meetups with the posse he tends to hide behind Carmine the whole time. Yes a 12 foot tall bot can do that somehow-
If Bee is being especially ornery, which can happen sometimes. Carmine will contact Sari as she’s the only other human he’ll listen to.
Most human criminals are very wary of Bee and Carmine if they’re on their tail. While getting taken down by any K9 officer isn’t enjoyable, Bee is terrifying. No one wants to be taken down by the giant robot alien.
Bee can work as a guard for Carmine in more dangerous situations. Criminals with guns and knives can’t affect him, and he’ll protect his officer partner at all costs. Carmine will protect Bee the same way if he needs to.
Bee is basically just a giant puppy dog. No I won’t elaborate on it, yes he’s a good boy.
#transformers#transformers animated#tf animated#tfa#sari sumdac#tfa bumblebee#transformers headcanons#headcanon#he bites#hes a good boy
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Taylor Swift’s TTPD Song Theory: The Alchemy
I believe The Alchemy is about Karlie Kloss showing up at the Eras Tour postpartum, while Travis Kelce is another red herring.
He’s a counterfeit; She is 24 karat magic in the air~
This is Taylor writing from Karlie’s perspective:
The Alchemy
This happens once every few lifetimes.
It’s how IVF works. Not all embryos get implanted. Not all pregnancies are viable. (Higher miscarriage rate than traditional conception). It feels like a miracle when it results in a healthy baby.
These chemicals hit me like white wine./He jokes that it’s HEROIN but this time with an ‘E���
Epidural used to assist childbirth can make you feel drowsy. That’s where the ‘E’ comes from. Mama also had to give up white wine due to pregnancy, so she hadn’t felt tipsy in a while.
Heroin + e = Heroine
Taylor in Don’t Blame Me: My drug is my baby I’ll be using for the rest of my life
Reputation muse is her heroine.
Also, how sweet it is to call your wife a heroine for giving birth to your child. I’m grinning from ear-to-ear every time I hear this line.
What if I told you I'm back?
The hospital was a drag
Worst sleep that I ever had
This is Karlie showing up at The Eras Tour concert only days postpartum.
I circled you on a map
Confirming that she was a muse for reputation. (End Game: I buried hatchets but I keep maps of where I put them.)
Or, even sweeter interpretation: They drew circle around their baby in the ultrasound pictures taken during pregnancy. Taylor’s baby in Karlie’s tummy. That’s the most adorable mental picture ever.
I haven't come around in so long
But I'm coming back so strong
Remember Karlie at the reputation tour? That was after kissgate and love blackout. So many people were saying they hated each other then. And so many people mocked her for coming to the Eras Tour. How strong is she that she refused to let anything stop her from coming to support Taylor? Not the public opinions, nor recent childbirth can stop this mother.
So when I touch down
The continuation of Call It What You Want: My baby’s fly like a jet stream
Call the amateurs
I’m biased and think this line is about Swifties who chased Easter Eggs but couldn’t see Karlie embed into the heart and soul of Taylor’s songs.
And cut 'em from the team
bridges burn, I never learned
Ditch the clowns, get the crown
All the jokers dressing up as king
Baby I'm the one to beat
This is so cute. Taylor wrote from Karlie’s perspective here and really said Karlie KNOWS with absolute certainty that she is the King of My Heart.
Cause the sign on your heart
Said it's still reserved for me
Again with the ‘Karlie knows I am in love with her so utterly and completely, always
Honestly, who are we to fight the alchemy?
And the sweetest thing about this being from Karlie’s pov is that, she already made damn sure Taylor knows, that Karlie doesn’t blame her at all for the bearding/fake love for the crowd. That’s how Taylor gets the confidence to write this whole song in such a way that could be attributed to the guy on the chief. He’s not the real muse, like the alchemy that doesn’t make real gold.
Hey you, what if I told you we're cool?
That child's play back in school
Is forgiven under my rule
This is Karlie at the Eras Tour responding to Taylor’s inability to hide how smitten she was for Karlie, especially during ‘betty’ performance. James is down bad.
I haven't come around in so long
But I'm making a comeback to where I belong
Again a reiteration of Karlie showing up to support Taylor at her concerts since 1989 to reputation tour, and now The Eras Tour. It’s as reassuring as the repeating chorus. But do you know what changes? The two lines about giving birth to IVF baby that she opens and closes the song with. In the beginning, there’s only one leading vocal. At the end, there are two vocals in harmonies. Like how Taylor and Karlie have transitioned from being moms of one kid to two kids. And they’ve been so in love through it all.
These blokes warm the benches
We been on a winning streak
Once again with the reassurance. Karlie made sure that Taylor knows no matter how much bearding they have to do, the love they have for each other never wanes.
Shirts off,
The many outfits change Taylor does in every concert.
and your friends lift you up over their heads
I Did Something Bad Choreography: Go ahead and light me up.
Beer sticking to the floor
Shout out to swifties drunk on alcohol AND fun during the concert
Cheers chanted,
ONE, TWO, THREE, LET’S GO BITCH among many others
‘cause they said
There was no chance, trying to be the greatest in the league
Again, with reference to reputation era and how Taylor was not the mass media’s favorite at all, at the time.
Where's the trophy?
Not Taylor calling herself Karlie’s trophy wife. HAHAHAHAHAHAHSJK
He just comes running over to me
James is still just as down bad for Betty now as ever.
Thank god for Travis’s team winning, otherwise this sweetest song would’ve been scrapped for being too obviously not about him.
#taylor swift#Karlie Kloss#my roman empire#kaylor#the tortured poets department#song analysis#the alchemy#line-by-line#mine
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Warriors was a weak man at heart. If any animal looked at him with their pleading eyes, he’d cave into whatever they wanted in a second.
Wolfie knew this. Wolfie decided to use it against him.
It had taken the rancher to swallow down his pride and shift into wolf form to be allowed to go out for some fresh air finally, but he didn’t allow it to dampen his mood. He hasn’t been allowed to do anything for weeks after the confrontation with Dink, something as simple as a walk sounded like heaven to him.
“I forgot how pretty Akkala was the last time we came here.”
“It was raining the last time we were here. With how bad that storm was, we nearly lost Wild to the winds, so we didn’t have time to appreciate the scenery.”
“We both know for a fact that if Wild did get swept up, he would’ve been fine and probably enjoyed every second of it.”
“You really are no better than him.”
“Hey!”
Twilight playfully swatted his shoulder, a cackle leaving his lips as he grinned ear to ear. Wars couldn’t help but laugh in turn. It’s been such a long time since they’ve been this carefree, Wars had to admit he missed these moments.
Even if the only reason this was happening at all was because of his weakness to cute animals.
He was still annoyed by that, but he would pretend that it didn’t.
“So, what was it that Wild needed again? He said that the stable master down south will have ‘em.”
“He needed some things for dinner, I think. Said that there was a traveler there that settled for the week selling spices that he wanted to grab before we left the area.”
“Like Goron Spice? Doesn’t he have dozens of those bottles stashed away in that slate of his?”
“You act as if I know these things, Twi, I don’t snoop in his things.”
“I beg to differ.”
“Then beg.”
An elbow was jabbed into Wars’ side, and he busted out laughing before dragging the younger into a loose headlock. He ruffled his hair, watching as Twi tried biting him in attempt to free himself.
“Let me go! I’ll bite ya, don’t think I won’t!”
“Awe, is our rancher unable to escape from little ole me? I’m not even trying.”
“I will throw your bedding into the river if you don’t stop.”
Wars stuck his tongue out and allowed Twi to fall onto the ground with a thud. He let a few colorful threats out as he scrambled back onto his feet, brushing off the dirt that now clung to him.
“You suck.”
“Not as much as you.”
“But, seriously, what was it Wild wanted? I don’t want to waste rupees getting things we don’t even need.”
“We can just ask the guy what things are and see if anything rings a bell. And, if all else fails, we lie and say he didn’t have any left in stock.”
“We ain’t lying to our chef, he’ll lace our dinner with things that’ll make us see the goddesses themselves if he ever finds out.”
“Then we’ll make sure he doesn’t, you dork, easy as that.”
“I hope he makes it so you can’t shit for weeks, Wars, honest to Ordonia.”
Snapping twigs made Wars pause for a moment, his ears twitching slightly. Twilight stopped behind him, his ears seemingly picking up the subtle sounds that surrounded them. The soft thump of Twilight’s heartbeat filled the air, and the soft stench of blood finally reached Wars’ nose.
It made him gag.
“What is that smell? It smells rancid.”
Twilight cupped his hand over his nose, a faint green tinge clinging to his face as his ears drooped slightly. It smelled like a rotting corpse, one that had been left festering in the sun for days. And it was so far away, goddesses only know how horrific it’ll smell once whatever it was got closer.
“No clue. Is it one of those gibdo’s Wild warned us about?”
“He said those things are only in the Gerudo desert, so I doubt it. But, it isn’t anything I recognize. The monster's ‘round here smell doesn’t smell this bad.”
“A lynel, then?”
“No… no it isn’t one of them.”
The sounds of footsteps made the two reach for their swords, eyes trained on the tree line. They could see shadows shifting, the horrid stench only growing closer.
“Excuse me?”
A soft voice spoke from behind them, causing the two to jump back and point their swords at whoever spoke.
The person raised their hands, panic etched across his face as he took a step back.
“Woah, hold your horses. I’m not one of those monsters you gotta worry about.”
The man chuckled, though it seemed force. Wars’ eyes narrowed as he momentarily looked back to where the shadow was, yet when he did nothing was there anymore. As if it was never there at all.
The stench was gone, too.
“Who are you?”
Twilight asked, lowering his sword just enough to allow the man a moment to gather himself.
“I’m a traveler! I came from around Hateno Village, and I’m trying to find somebody. Can you possibly help me?”
The two gave each other glances, clear distrust still lingering in the air. But, Twilight couldn’t help but smile kindly despite that, even if goosebumps were clinging to his skin.
“Sure, who ya’ lookin’ for?”
“A young man, probably around 20 years old? Long blonde hair, blue eyes, burn scars, goes by the name Link?”
“Link, huh? Can’t say I know a Link.”
Twilight clicked his tongue, every single nerve in his body screaming that this guy was bad news. Wars’ hummed in agreement, feigning ignorance as well.
“Truly? I could’ve sworn you two were with him when you went to Tarrey Town.”
“Nope, you must’ve confused our friend with somebody else. Sorry.”
Wars finally pipped up, his grip on his sword tightening ever so slightly.
“Are you sure? Because I’m certain you both are named Link as well.”
There was no time for the two to think before the man lunged, a croaked dagger in hand. An ugly glimmer shone in his eyes, malicious and full of hate and a smile upon his lips. It all happened so quickly, in less then a second… Warriors couldn’t even react before it was to late.
The dagger was already buried deeply into the front of Twilight’s throat, gurgled yelps of pain being the only sound between them all.
“Shit!”
Wars lunged at the man, one hand reaching for his bag to grab the fairy he always kept on hand. It’ll be fine, he told himself, he’ll deal with the guy and heal his brother before things get any worse-
“Looking for this?”
Another voice cackled behind him, causing Wars to snap his head back. Another man, wearing a red tightsuit and a white mask, playfully twirled both his and Twilight’s pouches in his hands. His eyes widened, horror filling his veins.
He didn’t even realize he was moving before he had his hands around the man’s throat, squeezing tightly to force him to drop the bags. But, that only allowed the second assailant to toss Twilight aside, grabbing the now discarded bags with a cackle of his own.
“You really are stupid! I thought this would’ve been harder considering what you are~”
He holds the bags up, smiling widely, before disappearing in a shroud of smoke. The man Wars had in his grasp followed soon after, leaving behind nothing but their dropped weapons.
Warriors’ heartbeat thundered in his ears as he looked around, nothing but panic filling him as he darted towards where Twilight was thrown. Goddesses, he can barely sense a heartbeat from him, it was so faint and weak.
He grabs the younger into his arms, pressing a hand against the wound on his neck in a hopeless attempt to stop the bleeding. Twilight was barely responding, his eyes fluttering as he weakly grabbed at Wars’ wrist. Blood coated his lips and chin, harsh coughs causing his wound to gush even more.
“H-hey it’ll be okay, right? I’ll figure this out…”
Wars cooed, tears forming at the edges of his eyes.
He hadn’t forgotten the fear and horror he felt when Twilight nearly died mere weeks ago, but having to hold him as he clung onto life so desperately was another thing entirely.
Was this what Time felt?
Twilight gulped, a shaky smile on his lips as he gently brushed away the tears that had left his eyes. Of course he’d be comforting Wars in this moment, even as he danced with death. He hated seeing his brothers cry.
Wars was saying… something. Twilight didn’t know what, his words sounding almost underwater. Everything felt so slow, too, it made Twilight feel tired.
He felt Wars gently tilt his head back, he didn’t put up much a fight. He was just checking the wound, he told himself, to see how it’ll need to be stitched if they were to return his body to Ordon when he dies.
Oh, he hopes Colin will be busy when they do return his corpse. He can’t imagine how saddened his baby brother will feel seeing him in such a state. He never got the chance to watch him grow stronger.
“I… orr- ight-”
What did Warriors say? He wonders if it had any importance. Probably not, it’s strange to talk to a corpse, after all.
A sharp pain shot through his throat as the last of his consciousness trickled away, and his last breath was ripped out of his body through a scream.
(I never really gave them a reason to be away from the group the first time around, and having Twilight get taken down by a Hinox seemed silly. The idea of having the Yiga be a genuine threat seemed like fun. Also, following Twi’s POV when he’s dying seemed more fun then Wars’. I can’t wait to make these boys suffer >:). )
-❄ anon
👀 👀 👀
Very interested to see where this goes from here if you were willing to change so much of it.
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Chronic pain Ashton actually means everything to me. This punk rock literally went through more awful shit before the age of ten than most people will deal with in their entire lives. And then they turned into a FUCKING rock.
Raised in an overpacked orphanage, given the same last name as everyone else as a strange unifier. These people aren’t family, but they do share a surname and a piece of their history. In the end though, Ashton’s just one small hungry face among dozens. Alone even when in the crowd.
When he woke up one day and his whole body felt Wrong, felt hard and rough, and calcified like they had spent too much time out in the cold without water, do you think he told anyone at first? Do you think anyone with the power to help would have even cared?
I wonder if it ever stopped feeling uncomfortable to them, or if there’s always this underlying sense that one wrong move will send cracks up their whole body.
Then they’re out, and they finally found people they could rely on, a family that cared about him, not because of obligation, but because he was like them, and because he had strength and skills they needed.
His new family is united by their insignificance, and determined to stick it to everyone whose greed hurts other people like them, the ones left behind, the nobodies. Ashton learns what it really means to fight and to bleed for the people you love. He learns to take his pain and his anger and pours it into protecting his family.
And then. The heist that changed everything. Broke into the wrong house, opened the wrong box, and suddenly… a whole new level of pain, beyond anything they’ve felt before. Broken memories. Flying backwards. Crashing through a window. Falling, falling, falling, then… black. Pain. Flashes of light, of noise. Pain. “He’s dead.” Laying on a stone path. “Just leave em.” Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain.
Milo’s voice. “C’mon, please wake up please, I don’t know what else to do…” and then… ice in their veins. Fireworks going off inside their head. And then… they black out again.
They come back slowly, and it’s not their senses that come back first. The first thing that tells him he’s awake is a shooting pain all up and down his arm, branching like cracks through stone. It feels as bad as the little voice in the back of his mind always told him it would. His whole left side feels… shattered. Broken. He’s certain that when he opens his eyes, he’ll see pieces of himself lying around him.
A flash, as though someone fired a blowtorch at close range toward his head. Another, slightly to the right of the first. And now that they’re aware of it, they can’t stop feeling it. It’s like the worst cluster headache they’ve ever felt, multiplied by a dozen by the burn of each pulse of energy.
Well, if he’s feeling pain, that probably means he’s not dead. They blink open their eyes and move to stand. His arm is still there, so that’s good. They begin to use it to push themself up…
*Crack*
They feel the powerful release of pressure more than they hear it. It travels from their shoulder all the way down to the tips of their fingers and then back.
“Gah, FUCKING SHIT.” They collapse back down to the table they were lying on.
“Ashton? Ashton! You’re awake! Don’t move, don’t move, you’re safe, you’re okay!”
It’s only now that they look around and realize where they are. Their vision feels… off somehow, but they can see it now. Milo’s workshop. They’ve cleared their worktable, and he’s lying on top of it. He turns his head to see where their voice is coming from and… FUCK.
“Don’t… don’t move too much. You’re uhh… you’re hurt real bad.” Milo rushes over from wherever they were and hovers behind his head. “How are… how do you feel?”
“Like hot fucking garbage. What… what the fuck happened to me? Fuck, that hurts.”
“The last job it went… bad. Real bad. You took… you took a pretty big fall, all the way from the top of the mansion.”
“Fuck.”
“Yeah.”
“Alright, well. Let’s check out the fucking damage.”
“No Ashton wait, you need to rest, lay back down…”
They ignore them as they push themself up again… fuck that hurts, but at least they know to expect it this time. They cautiously put their weight on their right foot, then their left. A similar crack as before sends pain up their leg to their hip, and they buckle, grabbing their head as it sparks again.
“Ashton please wait. Please, just take a second to… to catch your breath, at least…”
“Fuck. No. I’m fine, I’m good, I can fucking do this.”
He stumbles over to a big, shiny sheet of metal that Milo’s got hung up for some project or other, and looks at his warped reflection.
“Milo… what the fuck.”
“I… I… I did everything I could, but I’m not a medic, Ashton. I work with metal though, and… and with stone, sometimes, so… I melted down the gold we made on our last job and um… I sealed the cracks. In your skin, I mean. I had no clue if it would work; I didn’t even know if your skin works like normal stone, but I didn’t know what else to do.”
Ashton holds up their hand to their face. Zigzagging along the cracks in his skin, he sees gold, sealing the stone of his flesh back together. He runs the fingers of his other hand up his arm. It’s… huh. They’re used to their skin feeling… alien. Wrong. Not their own. But this is… this one’s new.
Even as he’s thinking that, another flash goes off in his skull, and this time, he sees it in his reflection. “What the fuck…”
They lean close, and when another spark lights up, he can see… through his own head. What the fuck, he can see his brain. It’s distorted, though they can’t tell if that’s because of the imperfections in the metal or because of what Milo used to patch them up.
“Yeah that… that I was less sure of. There was… a hole smashed in your head, Ashton. Too big to fill in with gold. Eventually I was able to fill it in and cover it up with slag glass - I had to do the same thing with your eye.”
And as soon as they say that, Ashton can pin down what’s wrong with their vision. The depth of everything feels wrong, and he can’t see anything on his left side.
“…fuck.”
“Yeah.”
“Fuck Milo, you… you saved my life. I… wait. What the fuck happened to the others.”
Milo flinches, and Ashton prepares for the worst. “They… they all ran. Out of the city. We were seen, and…”
“And they figured I wouldn’t fucking make it anyway. Right. So why the fuck are you still here?”
“Ashton I… I wasn’t just going to leave you. Not while there was still a chance to save you.”
They don’t know what to say to that. And so, they pull their shit together, and as soon as they’re confident they won’t collapse on the way, they go back to Hexum’s. He takes on the debt that everyone else was too smart to stay for. He doesn’t tell her about Milo.
They take on easy jobs for a while. They recover, as much as they can. Eventually, it becomes pretty obvious that this… these golden cracks, the hole in their head, the fireworks inside their fucking skull… this is just how things are now.
So he does what he did before. He fucking adjusts. He’d had to get used to discomfort and pain of stone skin; now these harsh cracks become a part of that alien background sensation. The fireworks go off when he gets in a fight, so they learn to channel that sharp pain into every swing of their hammer. This new pain joins the rest in the background noise of his life.
And so, just like he always does, he keeps fucking going. They wear their scars proudly, on display for everyone. They hold their head, cracks and all, high. They say look at me. I’ve already been the collateral damage of an uncontrolled elemental ritual. I’ve been thrown backwards out of a tower and left for dead. You think you scare me? Get in line. I’ve seen shit that would scare your nightmares. You think you’re stronger than me? Two seconds in my body would have you curled up in a ball on the floor. You wanna fuck with me? Just don’t.
#ashton greymoore#critical role#critical role c3#bells hells#cr#chronic pain ashton means everything to me#listen I didn’t know what I was gonna write before I started writing#this got longer than I expected#sorry???#I just needed a chronic pain character real bad rn#I love them sm#funky little fucked up punk rock
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can we get more hcs about little jj with caregivers hotchniss? like what she’s like at different little ages, who she prefers when she wants this or needs that etc? 🥺
little!Jj age range with caregiver!Hotchniss hcs
warning: mentions of Jj having a bad childhood/what happened to Rosslyn
(0-2)
She’s a pretty reserved in baby space, she only really wants to be held and have a pacifier
She does prefer Hotch when in this headspace
He’s who she’ll reach out for and who she’d rather cuddle into, but ofc she still loves having Emily around
Jj only regresses to this age range if she knows she’ll for sure be home and there’s no chance of getting called in, or if it’s involuntary
A lot of times if she’s stressed she’ll slip into baby space to help herself deal with whatever’s upsetting her
If she is upset and in baby space she doesn’t cry all the much, she’ll go non-verbal and probably want to be wrapped up in a blanket with both her caregivers
(3-6)
She’s more talkative/vocal in this age range
Lost of vocal stims and rambles about a movie or book or show
She prefers Emily in this range, Emily’s pretty good at understanding Jj’s babbling and is always up to rewatch a Disney movie they’ve seen a million times
Disney in general is pretty big for Jj
She loves the Ariel movies (yes both) and Moana
She’s definitely the most fussy at this age
A lot of foods become an issue when she’s regressed, but this range really brings that out
She wants things cut a specific way and on specific plates with specific utensils
Emily does her best to make sure she has anything Jj wants on hand — thankfully chicken nuggets and Mac and cheese are easy enough to get at any store
Jj loves to dress up in this age range, Hotch will help her with this
She’s also able to convince Aaron to join her so they can preform “runways” for Emily
(7-10)
This is a rare age range for Jj to regress to
She has a lot of energy when she does
Prime time to go to the park, she’ll drag Emily & Hotch down the slide a million times or over to the swings to see who can go the highest
She has no preference of caregiver in this age range
She really just wants someone to run around with
She’s also very happy, all the time. Emily & Hotch have yet to see her get upset by anything in this age
Though it is the times she gets the most scraped knees or elbows
She still smiles through it and enjoys the assortment of character themed band aids that Emily has
If the team is over while Jj’s regressed she always ropes at least Derek into a game of tag outside
She really likes Reid and Derek in this age range, Reid’s magic tricks are always a hit and Derek’s able to be rowdy with Jj for longer than Aaron or Em can be
(11-13)
Jj gets very clingy when she’s regressed to this age group
She wants Emily and Hotch to be with her at all times
She mostly plays silently with dolls, her favorites are monster high dolls
She’ll sit at the table as they make dinner or on the rug in front of the Tv if they’re on the couch
It’s a very anxious time for Jj, she gets timid and skittish as this was around the time Rosslyn died
She clings to Emily a lot
It’s also a pretty emotional time, crying is a regular occurrence for Jj even if nothing has happened
Both Hotch & Emily have found her trying to keep her cries quiet — when asked why she admitted that after Ross died she was always told to keep her grieving quiet as her mother had enough going on
Emily and Hotch are still working on breaking that habit. It’s a slow battle.
(14-16)
It’s rare for Jj to regress to teenage years but when she does it’s very obvious to Emily & Hotch
She gets angry and worked up easily
She also gets extremely self conscious about her regression — she’ll go through fits of throwing all her “childish” things out of her room and locking herself in it until she calms down
There’s lots of crying in this range too
Emily & Hotch always try to help Jj calm herself and talk about what’s bothering her but most times it ends in Jj screaming into a pillow before crying
It breaks both of her caregivers hearts to see — even more when Jj talks about wanting Rosslyn and missing her
She plays heavy music through speakers frequently when in this age range
It was a comfort in her teenage years and still helps calm her down if she’s having a hard time
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Prison Force Chagger Ep. 3
GENEVA LBZ/IF INMATE RECORDS
Name: Wolfgang Baumer
Place of Origin: Nordschwarzwald region, Western Europe
Birth date: Unknown
Height and Weight: ~155 cm, ~90kg
Criminal Record: Harboring a Fugitive, multiple counts of Grand Theft Auto, Grand Larceny, Money Laundering, Voluntary Manslaughter
Etc: Prisoner records are not to be destroyed by the order of the Wardens. Who we are and what we’ve done are not a secret, but also do not define us.
“Could you hand me the CH.Welder?”
I looked down at the hairy hand reaching out from underneath the truck with a bit of confusion, and then to the wide array of tools laid out on a greasy towel on the ground.
“Uh, yeah, sure… The CH.Welder… It’s…”
“About 25 centimeter long curved pipe with the cylinder on the bottom. Covered in a novel’s worth of warning labels.”
Ah. Of course. What else could it have been? I lean over and pick up the-
“Nah, the other one. Easy mistake to make.”
“...Right.”
Last week I was moved into a cell in the main holding building. It’s not really as bad as it sounds, since they had all of the bars removed and placed with a normal wall and a door that locked from the inside. It’s honestly way better than the shack I used to live in on the outskirts of the Solna LBZ, at least this place keeps heat reasonably well. Doc even recommended that I talk to some guys who love to build cottages, but I felt weird asking for favors already. After all, they’ve already got me working with Wolfgang because I apparently know which way to turn a socket wrench.
As I hand the device, I look down under the truck at my… manager? Co-worker? I still haven’t figured out how exactly this was supposed to work. He’s flat on his back, most of his face covered in a heavy-duty chargon mask, in case a gasket pops and he gets a face full of green and purple gas, but his giant salt-and-pepper beard sticks out from the bottom.
“Hey, should I be wearing one of those masks?”
“Nah, you’re probably fine. Just stay out of the way in case something pops.”
Cool. Glad to be useful.
As the short, wide Warden tinkers on the chargon drive of the truck, I absent-mindedly wander around the space. It’s not super clear if this massive garage existed before the revolution, because it’s clearly designed to service a giant complex with a fleet of vehicles, but for whatever reason, the only truck here was the one being worked on. There were also only a small handful of car lifts. What, exactly, was the point of this place?
I figure I might as well make my question known out loud in a way that Wolfgang might hear it. It takes long enough for him to answer that I almost repeat the question.
“Don’t worry about it.”
Don’t worry about it? I mean, if this is my new job, it seems like something I should worry about. Where are all the other trucks?
“I’m telling you not to worry about it because you don’t need to worry about it.”
For a second, I worry to myself that the Warden had already figured out my game. Grab a truck while he’s not looking, and hoof it to the wall surrounding this place to get the hell out. Don’t ask me how I’m planning on getting past the wall since I didn’t see any gates, I’ve always been good at thinking on my feet. Usually.
The Warden slides out from under the truck, the wheels on his sliding board making clanking sounds on the seams of the concrete.
“We have trucks. Lots of ‘em. But the thing about tools is that people like to use them, because that’s what they’re for. And if they want to keep using them, that’s fine too. There’s vehicles that have been borrowed for years, and I honestly don’t even know what happened to the guys who borrowed them. And if they need repairing, then they’ll wind up back here.”
It’s obvious that I’ve been on the outside for too long.
“Yeah. But you’ll figure it out. Just forget about stuff like pers-”
A loud klaxon suddenly starts blaring, the sound echoing off of the distant walls of the garage’s massive interior. What the hell…? Wolfgang clambers up to his impressive 1 and a half meters and speedily trundles over to a nearby intercom.
“What’s the emergency?”
He listens intensely, his face grimacing with each passing word from the other speaker. He looks around awkwardly, and makes quick eye contact with me.
“Okay, look, I got the newblood here. Fine, yeah. I’ll be out in a jiff.” He smashes a button on the intercom to end communication, and turns to walk towards me.
“Stand back, you’re about to get a hell of a show.” He then places his calloused hand on my arm, and points towards a door near the bathrooms that says Managers only.
“Take that elevator and head to the top floor, and mind the ‘old person’ smell. Whatever you do, don’t leave. I promise it’s the safest place on the continent right now.”
I’m clearly puzzled as the ground begins to rumble, and the center of the floor begins to slide open like a concrete grocery store front door. On a rising platform sits… a jet? But instead of being a sleek machine designed to dogfight, it’s built like a bulbous insectoid semi truck with wings and a massive translucent chargon battery for an abdomen. I’ve never seen a battery that big, and Wolfgang marches straight towards it. There’s no way in hell he’s actually going to get IN that thing, is he?!”
“Elevator! Now!”
My legs instinctively, obediently carry me towards the doorway opposite the room as the Warden climbs into the machine, and the strange device emits the telltale green and purple of a chargon engine’s exhaust. Crap, crapcrapcrap gotta get out of this room immediately! I slam the “up” button on the inside of the elevator, and watch the insectoid apparatus slowly take off from its launch bay. A woman’s voice comes over the elevator’s speakers, and speaks with a calm voice.
“Top floor: Dr. Ishikawa’s office.”
Art by @menacing-marshmallow
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Roxanne Love NSFW Alphabet
Rating: Explicit, NSFW 🔞 Word count: 1.5K Content warnings: Sex talk, various kinks discussed or mentioned but not portrayed in graphic detail
Author's Note: I've done a NSFW alphabet for my OC Roxy before, but I wanted to update it to better reflect how the character's evolved. There isn't too much that's changed in the NSFW department, aside from a couple specific notes, but I preferred redoing the whole thing rather than just editing the og post. Enjoy! :)
A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)
In contrast to her usual mask of stoicism, Roxy is very soft and clingy after sex. She’ll gently touch her partner and praise them, but she might tease them a bit too, depending on how light the mood is. She’s very cuddly and wants to be wrapped up around her partner and hold onto them for as long as possible. She also gets the urge to smoke afterwards.
B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and their partner’s)
For herself, her arms. They’re toned and well-muscled, and she’s got a bunch of tats on em too. She will be flexing if her partner encourages her.
For her partner, she loves their hips. Doesn’t matter their gender of their body type. If they’ve got a set of hips, she’s grabbing them and using them as leverage. She’ll feel em up and tease em there, and even outside of the bedroom, she’ll loop an arm around them and rest her hand on their hip as a casual point of contact.
C = Cum (anything to do with cum basically)
Loves seeing her partner make a mess of themselves. Loves the vulnerability and humiliation they experience when their cum slides down their thighs or paints their stomach.
D = Dirty secret (self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)
Roxy’s got a subtle exhibitionism streak that comes from possessiveness. She likes to stake her claim on her partner, be it with a strong arm slung around their shoulder, a hickey that’s hard to hide, suggestive teasing, or outright corralling them into a corner and shoving a hand down their pants while they try desperately to hide their moans.
E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)
Roxy’s experienced but not super experienced. She’s never done a casual hookup in her life, and she’s only had a couple serious relationships. Her earliest relationship was with her high school punk boyfriend Eric, and he was her first. Her later relationship with Mel was where she really got comfortable with her own sexuality.
F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)
Pretty versatile and willing to try a variety of things, but prefers being on top.
G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc.)
Roxy’s pretty intense and serious during sex, but she isn’t opposed to the occasional silly, teasing remark to get a smile from her partner, especially if they’re nervous, tense, or distracted.
H = Hair (how well-groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)
The carpet does not match the drapes – Roxy’s hair is dyed a deep magenta, while down below is left its natural black. She doesn’t do much aside from keeping things clean, so she’s got a thick bush and a bit of a happy trail.
I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment, the romantic aspect…)
Roxy’s both scared of intimacy and craves it like air. She shies away from making herself vulnerable because she’s been rejected so many times and she's terrified it’ll happen again. But at the same time she wants it so fucking bad. Early on in a relationship she’s more restrained, but once she’s committed, she’s committed. She’ll be super intimate and romantic and even when she’s being an intense teasing asshole, she does it with barely-concealed adoration.
J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)
Not something she does often. She’s got so many other things demanding her attention, and she doesn’t get the urge very much. It might happen if she’s actively yearning for someone and frustrated about it, but even then, she’s more likely to ignore it and stubbornly wait for the feelings to go away on their own. Repression is the name of her game.
K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)
Roxy’s willing to try a lot of things to please her partner, but she does have some personal faves.
Bondage: loves restraining her partner. Specialty bondage gear, ropes, or her own hands and body weight; elaborate or simple; any bondage is good bondage.
Dirty talk: merciless with her teasing, happy to praise and degrade her partner.
Rough sex: Roxy’s mean. She likes to give things a little edge of pain, likes to yank on her partner’s hair, likes to grab them roughly and manhandle their body into position like a personal toy.
Edging/denial: loves to see her partner cry and squirm and beg
L = Location (favorite places to do the do)
Roxy isn’t picky. The bed is great, of course, but she also likes pinning her partner against a table or the wall. Plus there’s the added rush of doing it somewhere semi-public where they shouldn’t be doing it.
M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)
Teasing. Roxy loves to tease, and she’s very responsive when teased back. But she can also be caught off-guard by something sweet and genuine and thoughtful, and she’ll be determined to show how much it means to her.
N = NO (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)
Mommy kink, Daddy kink, anything involving multiple partners or sharing, and ESPECIALLY being helpless. Roxy needs to maintain a level of control. She doesn’t like being restrained, she prefers being on top, etc. – it’s all about feeling in control of the situation and holding the reins. If she’s not able to feel like she's in control, she’ll panic and leave.
O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)
Giving Roxy head is one sure way to make her lose composure. She’ll drop the confident badass attitude immediately. It’s one of the only situations in which she’ll willingly give up control and let herself get weak and breathless.
She prefers to receive, but she’s happy to give, too. She’s damn good at eating pussy but has zero experience sucking dick.
P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual?)
Can do both, but tends to be rough and slow and thorough.
Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)
Not a fan. She likes to take her time and draw it out. Quickies are, well, too quick to properly do that, so they’re not interesting to her.
R = Risk (are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)
Within certain limits, yes, Roxy’s very game to try things out and step out of established comfort zones. Whatever makes her partner happy.
S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for, how long do they last)
Roxy does amateur wrestling and likes keeping herself active, so she’s got good stamina. She can do multiple lighter rounds or a few intense ones.
T = Toy (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)
She used to, mostly for Mel, but she’s since gotten rid of them.
U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)
As mentioned before, Roxy is a huge tease and very unfair about it. Whether through words or actions, there’s nothing more fun to her than riling her partner up till they’re on the verge of exploding.
V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make)
Pretty vocal and talks quite a bit. She’ll dirty talk, make degrading remarks, offer sweet praise, goad and taunt and swear. Sometimes a little moan or gasp will escape between the words.
W = Wild Card (free space, share a random nsfw headcanon)
Roxy’s a dom through and through. She likes being in control and feeling powerful and sexy about it. If she were to engage with someone who’s as unbendingly a dom as her, sex would end up being a furious, breathless fight to gain control and push the other to (and past) their breaking point.
X = X-Ray (let’s see what’s going on in those pants)
It’s a vagina, what do you want me to say? Aside from that, she’s got a thick bush and a happy trail, B-cup breasts, and smooth light brown skin dotted with moles. She has a few odd scars, as well as a variety of tattoos – mostly on her arms and thighs, though she does have a chest piece and a tattoo across the bottom of her ribs. Roxy’s solidly built, strong and toned and a force to be reckoned with.
Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive)
Roxy’s sex drive is pretty low. She enjoys sex and happily helps her partner get off, but she doesn’t often need it for herself. Though the right combination of things can kick her sex drive into high gear for a period of time.
Z = ZZZ (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)
She doesn’t. Sex energizes her, makes her mind whirl and move a hundred miles a minute even if she’s physically worn out. She’ll be up for a while afterwards, chatting or smoking or writing or just lying there, staring at the ceiling as time passes by.
#my beautiful demisexual butch oc...... oh roxy. how i adore u.#ace writes#oc roxanne love#notsft#now i gotta work on my other ocs#gotta properly introduce them
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NSFW Alphabet
In celebration of Monaco, have the ultimate A-Z of Dan and Em’s sex life. We apologise in advance. Or do we? Obvious TW for sex, cause…yknow.
A is for Aftercare (What they’re like after the act?)
There are so many cuddles. It’s their main form of aftercare. Dan takes all the time in the world to help clean her up, make sure she’s all comfortable and happy, and then there’s cuddles. We seriously cannot emphasise how many cuddles. Their favourite way is Dan lying on his back, Em lying against his chest, their legs tangled together. It’s very very rare that they have sex and don’t make sure they have time for cuddles after.
B is for Body Part (Favorite body part their own or their lovers)
There’s a reason Dan calls Em’s boobs his Emotional Support Boobs. He loves her face, but her boobs are his favourite part. He also loves her hands. Whenever she’s touching him he just feels safe. The moment when she’s cupping his cheeks and staying so close to him are his favourite. Em loves his legs. She’ll spend hours running her fingers over his thighs to draw random patterns on them or trace the lines of his tattoos. She also loves his chest. Her pillow is his chest, she feels safe there. The fact that she feels safe beside him is so important to both of them.
C is for Cum (Anything that has to do with it)
From day one Em prefers that Dan finishes inside her instead of on her, and they both really prefer that if they’re honest. It makes them feel closer. Sometimes yeah it’s fun if he finishes on her, and Dan’s possessive feelings also love seeing that happen. He thinks it’s hot as hell to see her like that. But it’s sticky and she hates the clean up and that it means they have to immediately start cleaning up instead of taking their time. For him though he loves having Em all over his skin. He wants to feel how wet she is and he loves when she rides a part of his body. Her riding his thigh? It’s everything. He doesn’t care if he needs to have a shower afterwards, it’s worth it.
D is for Dirty Secret
They both (but Dan more than Em) have a bit of an exhibitionist streak. If they can be fairly sure they won’t be disturbed they’ll have outdoors sex. They’ve had sex on the farm, on several beaches, and on the tiny little outdoor patio area just outside Em’s. They also have a joke that Em gave him access to every part of her body and it’s true. They tried anal but neither of them were a huge fan, it’s just not their thing. There’s other stuff they prefer doing instead.
E is for Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)
Em has two exes and she’s not into casual sex at all. Dan was going to be her first one night stand. So her experience is pretty much nothing compared to Dan’s. She’s been super clear that she doesn’t want to know how many girls he’s slept with or what experience he has. She’s happy knowing that he knows how to make her feel good and that’s it.
F is for Favourite Position
Cowgirl or missionary. They want to be able to look at each other’s faces while they’re having sex. If she decides to be a brat to tease him there’s moments where Em earns a slap on her ass and he’ll bend her over whatever’s nearby (notable places include the kitchen counter and the arm of her couch). The only other time they’re not looking at each other is if they’re cockwarming, because usually that’s Dan’s chest against her back. But every other time they’re looking at each other, whether it’s standing or on whatever surface they picked. Over the 2020 lockdowns he made a list of every surface they could have sex on. And they did.
G is for Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment? Or are they humorous?)
Most of the time it’s pretty goofy if they’re honest. It’s who they are, they joke and laugh a lot. Dan wants to see a smile on Em’s face at all times so if he can make it happen he does. There’s definitely times where it doesn’t happen, if it’s a bad weekend for either of them or they’re in a dom/sub situation or they’re having rough sex then it’s not. But even the romantic sex they have is a lot of fun.
H is for Hair (What are their grooming habits?)
Dan is very well groomed but he stopped shaving everything off because Em asked him to stop. She didn’t like how it felt against her skin, it scratched. She thought it was so silly to ask him but Dan kept checking in to see if there was anything to make sure she was happy when they were sleeping together and she didn’t need to ask twice. Em’s waxed, but not completely. If she has to go for an extra week she doesn’t mind, and Dan honestly has very little preference. The only thing he cares about is that she has enough hair on her head to pull it.
I is for Intimacy (How are they during the moment? Romantic or rough/dirty?)
It’s never been just sex for them, not even the first time when they were drunk. It’s always been intimate and it’s nearly always a mix of romantic and rough? They’re not completely vanilla. Super soft, really slow loving sex is rare for them. It’s just as rare that it’s rough and hard and fast, that’s usually for a bad day or something like that. They’re both on the rougher side of vanilla. At least holding necks if not choking is a regular for them, and a slap or two on Em’s ass happens. Dan loves going hard into Em while he’s whispering sweet words in her ear about how she’s his best girl and feels so good for him.
They always remind each other not just how good they are (they’ve got matching praise kinks) but how important they are to each other. They’re always intimate and close and doing things to show affection, not just during sex.
J is for Jack off (Do they masturbate and how often)
Em was never really into getting herself off. She’d been single for years and her sex drive just didn’t super exist. From time to time with a smutty book on her kindle and playing with her fingers but that was it. And then Dan showed up out of nowhere and showed her what good sex really was. He got her used to getting off regularly and what good sex was like so she kept going. But from the first time they slept together Dan couldn’t help it, he found himself in the shower whispering her name and pretending the hand around him was hand instead of his. It was just normal really quickly.
Phone sex was a thing when Em didn’t travel with him. He bought her a vibrator half as a gag joke and half as a “when I’m not here” thing and it became a regular when he was away. Talking to each other was way better than any other incentive when they were separated. When they’re together mutual masturbation is also a thing just for fun. Dan loves watching her start to get herself off and telling her to slow down or speed up.
K is for Kink
They have a ridiculously long list of kinks but they don’t consider them kinks either. It’s just how their relationship is and the way they enjoy sex. Every so often Em will call Dan “Boss” to turn him insane. There’s about a year of a daddy kink but as soon as Lulu starts talking that immediately disappears. But it’s a bit of everything really? Choking, hair pulling, dirty talk and marking are their four biggest ones. There’s more than once that Dan races with a hickey Em left on him. But apart from that when they start trying for a baby fully they definitely admit that they have a breeding kink. There’s a little bit of a dom sub thing that goes on for them, it’s not deliberate or intentional but it’s just what they kind of naturally fall into? Then also praising each other, edging (Dan on Em he loves it) and a bit of a size kink. Name it and they’re probably into it to be fair.
L is for Location (Favorite places to get it on)
If they can have sex there they have sex. Their favourite place is their bed, especially the bed in London when they live there full time. Second favourite is the couch when they’re too lazy to get up. After that it’s anywhere at all. Notable places have included the shower, the bath (one of their favourite places for cockwarming), in a vehicle (including farm vehicles), the table, a tree in the middle of the farm. Anywhere. They are not fussy.
M is for Motivation (Things that get them going)
They don’t need any at all. They get each other going in no time, it barely takes a hand moving. But Em’s biggest turn owns are Dan being a little jealous and overprotective of her. Whenever Em wears anything Dan bought her is something for him. She mentioned once she wanted to be the kind of person who only wore matching underwear sets and over time he replaced her underwear with matching sets. It doesn’t need to be fancy, something simple gets him going nearly more.
N is for No (Things they wouldn't do)
Anything that could hurt each other, whether that’s physically or emotionally. Threesomes or anything even vaguely involving other people is a no because they’re both too jealous for that. Nothing too kinky either. They’re into spanking but nothing that’s going to really hurt, the worst is Em’s ass being pink for a little while. Choking is more a hand over their neck than anything else, it’s never anything that could cut into their breathing. They don’t do anything like ropes or bondage that would really cause an issue. Nothing that could cause pain either. It’s fun to have a little extra sensation, not to hurt for them.
O is for Oral (Do they prefer giving or receiving? How skillful they are?)
They take turns because they both enjoy giving and receiving. Dan can and has spent hours between Em’s legs but he adores seeing his girl on her knees. When they started sleeping together she’d never experienced someone who enjoyed eating her out so it’s a new experience. Em really loves making Dan lose his mind, she loves giving and receiving in that way.
P is for Pace (Are they fast? Slow? Rough?)
It depends on the time and day, there’s no set pattern. If it’s busy, if it’s in his drivers room, or if Dan has to go do something it’ll be fast. They fit it into as much time as they have. Whatever the pace is Dan considers it a personal failure if he hasn’t made Em cum at least twice.
Q is for Quickie (Do they prefer quickies to proper sex? How often?)
They’re not into quickies. They’d rather be at home or in their hotel room where they have time. If they go for a quickie it’s for a very specific reason at that specific moment.
R is for Risk (Do they like to try new things?)
They’re willing to try new things because it’s with each other. They have such a deep, deep level of trust. But they’ll only do new things when they can be sure of what will happen and they can make sure that they’re safe. It’s a thrill without their reputations being hurt, especially if it’s trying sex in a new place. They’ll take risks and try new things together because they’re each others safe place. They can trust each other and say they want to try something and there’s no judgment. Nobody will look after each other the same way that they look after each other. They both put in as much as they can into their relationship to too that so they feel comfortable taking the risks.
S is for Stamina (How many times they can go? How long each round lasts?)
High. Performance. Athlete. Em had to basically train to be able to keep up with Dan. Some days they finish and Em tells him that’s her cardio because of how jelly her legs are. Normal nights is one round, especially during the season. If it’s a free weekend then maybe a second round in a day. But more than that is for time off. They tend to count rounds as how many times Dan can get off, but he loves making sure Em is more than satisfied.
T is for Toys (Do they owe toys? Do they use them?)
They’re not afraid of using them. Dan sees them as friends to help get Em off, it’s not something to rival him. Plus watching Em use one on herself is hot as fuck to him. He bought her a vibrator to use before she travelled with him and it’s her favourite one. She missed Dan too much and her fingers didn’t do the job and it was definitely from him.
U is for Unfair (How much do they like to tease?)
Teasing always happens, but Dan’s the real tease. He loves turning her insane everywhere. Em tries but she gives up too easily.
V is for Volume (Are they loud? What sounds they make?)
Dan is the loud one. Em’s ex didn’t like hearing her make noise so she was used to keeping herself quiet. It took a long time for her to get used to the idea that it was alright to let go and actually make noise. The first time she made noise it drove Dan insane, and every time after that he loves it. Even when she’s ok with making noise he’s the loud one. Dirty talk, groaning, moaning, you name it. Em is more moans and little whimpers and squeaks. Also begging. Especially when Dan is edging her and pulls away for the third time when she’s just about to cum.
W is for Wildcard (Random sincannon of any sort)
Their safeword is Papaya.
X is for X-ray (What’s down below the pants?)
Let's just say they are both very happy with what the other has to offer.
Y is for Yearning (How high is their sexdrive level?)
It’s very high. For poor Blake and Michael who were locked down with them in Perth they think it’s way too high. At minimum it’s sex every second day. Em originally thought that there’d be no sex on race weekends, but that was from young Daniel. Dan and Em both thought that after they had their first kid they’d calm down, but it didn’t. It may have gotten slightly worse.
Z is for Zzzzz (How do they sleep after? How quickly after?)
If it’s a lazy day they go to sleep nearly straight away, but if it’s been a hard one they’re awake a lot longer. Whoever had the better day stays awake a little while longer to make sure the other goes asleep and stays asleep without a nightmare. Both Dan and Em have more than once had to slightly wake the other to stop the start of a nightmare.
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JAGGED JANICE
I'm a government employee.
My name isn’t important. All you need to worry about is what I have to say.
I work at a compound known as the Facility. Within it, we perform research on things the public would find… unappetizing. Officially, we’re listed under Experimental Weapons Development, but lately, our umbrella has spread much wider.
Suffice it to say that there are things out there that go bump in the night. Things, both legendary and mundane, that exert their influence upon us and defy explanation. My job is to interview individuals who believe they’ve encountered such entities and determine if their accounts are fact or fiction. What my job is not to do, however, is share those interviews.
In this case, though, I don’t think I have a choice.
_____________________
The room is cramped, dimly lit, and smells vaguely of stale piss and black mold. A light hangs above the table between us, rocking back and forth and doing a poor job illuminating much of anything. Still, I can see the man's gaunt face and the fields on my clipboard.
It's enough. It will do.
I ask the man to tell me his story, and it begins.
“It happened at the cabin,” he says. He’s twenty-something, with a long nose and five o’clock shadow. When he reaches for his cigarette, his hand shakes like a 1950’s pickup truck. “Not my cabin,” he adds. “It belonged to Emily, but she invited us up. The three of us.”
My pen scratches across my clipboard. FOUR INDIVIDUALS. “For leisure, I’ll assume?”
He cocks an eyebrow at me. “Yeah, I guess.” A laugh escapes his lips. It’s short. Awkward. “Why else do people go to cabins? We just wanted to get drunk, stoned, forget our problems for the weekend. You know, like normal people do.”
“Of course,” I say, marking down his response. His eyes dart toward the cameras in the corner of the room, and his tongue slips across his lips. They’re chapped, cracked and bleeding. He looks worse than a mess. He looks like a disaster.
“The cameras,” he says. “What’s the deal with them? You said you weren’t a cop.”
“I’m not,” I reassure him. “The cameras are for my own records. Events— encounters with the paranormal, they’re tricky things. Sometimes we catch items in recordings we’d otherwise miss in person.”
He stares at me a while. His lip curls in, his teeth gnawing at it. It’s a look I’ve seen before, the sort of look where he’s wondering if maybe he’s being played. He’s wondering if this is a sting operation, and he’s taking the bait and I’m going to have him thrown into a psych ward, or worse.
“It’s better if you tell me everything,” I say, placing my clipboard on the desk between us. “I’m not here to have you put away, only to get some answers.”
A moment of dead air hangs between us, and it’s the sort of moment I recognize. He’s weighing the situation. Sizing me up. He’s wondering if he’s comfortable talking about something this batshit insane to a total stranger.
But then he takes a breath, followed by a deep drag, and he ashes his cigarette.
“Sure,” he says. He taps on a finger on the desk. Gathers his thoughts. “It happened late at night. The four of us had been drinking in the cabin, doing mushrooms, but we all slept outside in tents since the place was full of spiders. Hardly ever got used.”
“Why’s that?” I check a box labeled INTOXICATED.
He shrugs. “Bad memories, I think?”
I tilt my head to the side, inviting him to continue.
“The cabin belonged to Emily’s mom," he explains. "She passed away when Em was a little girl, and the place has been a mausoleum ever since. Em thinks it has bad mojo.”
“What do you think?”
“What do I think?” He tastes the question. “I think that... ” He trails off, his eyes losing focus, gazing at the splintered wooden table between us. Suddenly, he seems far away. There’s an emptiness to his expression. A disconnect. I wonder if he’s thinking of legends and nightmares.
I wonder if he’s thinking of Jagged Janice.
“Is everything alright?” I ask.
He blinks, then nods.
My pen scratches across my clipboard. SUBJECT APPEARS TRAUMATIZED. AVOIDANT.
“What’s that?” he asks. “What are you writing?” He leans forward, his thin frame eclipsing the table as he narrows his eyes on my form. I pull it away.
“It’s private.”
“How come?”
“Your knowledge of my notes could influence your account. I’d prefer it if such biases were avoided.”
His face creases, jaw clenches.
“Now,” I say. “Please continue.”
He looks angry as he sits back in his chair. Pissed. He’s gnawing at his lips again, and his finger’s tapping the table like a gatling gun. There’s no doubt in my mind that this guy’s been through a lot, but I need to make sure he’s telling the truth, and in order to do that, he can’t know anything. Nothing at all.
“Fine,” he says at length. “We’ll do it your way.”
Yes, we always do.
“Like I said, we were drinking in the cabin. Swapping old war stories from high-school. Talking about stupid pranks we’d pull, or places we’d tag, or teachers we hated. We reflected. Pretty soon though, we got drunk enough that stuff went deeper. We stopped talking about all the silly surface bullshit, and we started talking about the stuff that really meant something to us— the things that set our souls on fire.”
“That’s a poetic turn of phrase. Are you a writer?”
He shrugs.
“Let me rephrase. Would you describe yourself as having an active imagination?”
The man studies me, gears turning in his head. Again, he’s wondering if I’m goading him into an admission of insanity. He’s wondering if I’m calculating what amount of antipsychotics it would take to counterbalance his paranoia, and what size straightjacket would best fit his scarecrow frame.
But I’m not doing any of that.
The truth is, I don’t care if he’s insane or perfectly lucid. I don’t give a damn about him at all. All I care about is whether or not he’s seen Jagged Janice, and that he isn’t another liar.
“My imagination isn’t anything special,” he says at length. “Now, can I tell my fucking story, or are you going to keep interrupting?”
I smile. "Sure. Go ahead."
He takes a breath, spares a half-second to glare at me. “The four of us are drinking in Em’s cabin and she starts to get… low. Like, depressed. She’s usually a pretty upbeat person so I ask her what’s up, and she says she’s just been feeling a bit haunted since coming back to the cabin.”
I lift an eyebrow.
“Her brother…” The man sighs, shakes his head as though determining how best to phrase his next words. “Her brother died at the cabin. Drowned to death in the ocean a hundred yards from the front door. Emily watched it happen.”
“She watched her brother drown?”
He nods. “She was three years old. She didn’t understand what was happening, not really. There wasn’t anything she could do.”
“I see.” It’s a sad story, but not really what I came here for. Worse still, nothing yet matches the Jagged Janice legend. “Anything else?”
The man looks up at me, and disbelief swims in his eyes. “Anything else?” he mutters. “No, asshole. That’s it. She watched her brother die and it made her feel like shit.”
“I’m not here for Emily’s story, I’m here for yours. You’ll excuse me if I forget to feign empathy for a woman I’ve never met.” I check a box labeled CONFRONTATIONAL and rest my pen on my clipboard. “Now then, you said you were drinking. Talking. What happened after that?”
His jaw is set. Clenched. He looks like he wants to slug me in the face and honestly, I wouldn’t blame him, but instead he takes a drag on his cigarette and leans back in his chair.
“We drink and talk until our eyes get droopy,” he says. “And then we go to bed. It’s like any night, I guess. Up until a point.”
There’s an implication in his words, but I’ll deal with it later. For now I need more details. I need to understand the setting of the Event as clearly as I can. “The police report,” I say, glancing down at my copy of the document, “mentions the incident occurred inside of the cabin. Is that right?”
“That’s right.”
“Can you describe it for me? The layout?”
He scratches the back of his head, brows furrowed. There’s a picture being painted in his mind, colored by memories. “It's a tee-shaped cabin. Capital T. There’s two bedrooms on either side of the T, and at the very top center is a bathroom. The bottom of the T is the living area and kitchen, then the front door.”
“Simple enough.” I make a quick sketch of it on my form. “According to the report, the Event occurred in the washroom. I’d like you to talk about that.”
His eyes narrow, and his mouth twitches. He sucks in on his cigarette like it’s the last drag he’ll ever have. Slow. Long. He burns it down to the filter, eyes bloodshot, and then he drops it into the ashtray. “You got any more of these?”
“Sure.” I reach inside my jacket and pull out a pack, tossing it to him. The man catches it and flips it open. His hands are shaking. They’re shaking so hard that he can hardly light the smoke after he slips it into his mouth.
“Let me,” I offer.
“No,” he says. “I’ve got it.” The lighter strikes, and a flame dances to life. He hovers it below his dart until an ember glows. Then the man leans back, takes a deep drag, and blows out a storm cloud. “You’re the real deal, huh?”
“I’m sorry?”
“The real deal. You actually believe me, don’t you?”
“Maybe,” I say. Truthfully I’m still making up my mind. “You said the four of you quit drinking to go to sleep. Back in your tents, I presume. What happened after that?”
He ashes the cigarette. “Nature calls. I gotta take a shit, so I get up and head to the cabin. When I unzip the tent though, I can’t see the dirt in front of me. It’s that dark outside. Pitch black.”
“No moon?”
He shrugs. “Wasn’t looking for one. All I know is I’ve got to take a shit, and I’m not about to use the outhouse— it smells worse than death. So I make my way to the cabin. Once I get inside though, this weird feeling comes over me.”
“Weird feeling?”
“Like I’m being watched.”
Promising.
“The place feels empty. Lonely. It’s just me, the bugs, and the light from my phone. The light’s making shadows out of everything— the dusty fridge, the cluttered shelves, and the messy counters. There’s a thousand shapes all around me, shifting with every step I take and this feeling of, I don’t know.... Dread? comes over me. Like I’m not safe.”
The man pauses. Sweat beads down his forehead. “Sorry,” he says. “I just haven’t thought about it in this much detail since the night it happened.”
“Don’t worry,” I tell him. “Events are messy things, and more often than not, they leave scars.”
“Okay.”
“Take your time.”
He gives himself a minute. Catches his breath. “Like I said, I don’t feel safe in there, but I’m drunk enough that it doesn’t faze me. I’ve still got a buzz going from earlier in the night, you know? I think to myself, I came to take a shit and some spooky shadows aren’t gonna stop me.” He chuckles to himself, shakes his head. “But a few seconds later, I’m in the bathroom and locking the door behind me. I figure, why take the chance?”
He’s nervous. Jittery. His leg’s bouncing up and down and shaking the table. It’s beginning to affect my ability to write. “Would you like a glass of water?” I ask.
“I’m fine.”
“Humor me.” I grab the jug and pour him a cup, sliding it across the table. He eyes it for a moment, and then grips the glass, bringing it to his lips and downing it in one swig. I pour him another.
“So,” he says, wiping his lips. “I’m about to unbuckle and do my business when I see movement. It’s in the top corner of the bathroom— in one of those little toilet windows, like the type that’s clouded on the bottom for privacy, or whatever, but clear on the top to let in light.”
“I’ve seen those. Is that where you witnessed the Event?”
“That’s where I saw the smile.”
Jagged Janice. “Describe it.”
“Honestly I…” He sounds suddenly hesitant. Worried. “I’d rather not describe the smile, if we could. Wouldn’t it be better to just talk about the Event instead?”
“The smile is part of the Event,” I remind him. “It’s important that we get as many details as possible, no matter how uncomfortable your memories may be.”
He looks down, and his eyes drift out of focus. “The smile is just a row of teeth. But the teeth are too big and too sharp to belong to a human, and there are just… so many of them.”
I check my notes, consulting descriptions of Jagged Janice listed in old email chains from the early 2000’s. “I’d like to hear more about these teeth.”
“Why?”
“The teeth are important. Describe them, please.”
The man is uncomfortable. He’s shifting in his seat like quicksand, and when he talks his voice cracks but he gives me what I want. “The teeth are jagged,” he says. “Serrated, almost. Their length is all over the place. Some barely break her gums, others stretch down, cutting through her lips.” His fingers move again. They’re tapping on the metal table. Tap. Tap. Tap.
“When I see the smile, my heart starts pounding. I’m frozen there, standing in the dark bathroom with just the light from my phone. My mind’s reeling, but I know that whoever that smile belongs to, I don’t want them seeing me, so I hold my phone up against my chest. Tight as I can. I smother the light.”
“The light,” I say. “Did the woman showcase an adverse reaction to it?” Janice, according to her legend, loathes light.
“No,” he says, shaking his head. “Or, I don’t know? I can’t remember small details.” He pauses, and reaches for his glass of water before taking another gulp.”At that point my body’s mostly just adrenaline. There’s a storm of it coursing through me and screaming at me to run or scream or fight this bitch or just do something. Anything. But I can’t. I just stand there, staring at her inhuman teeth, at her horrible, twisted smile with my phone clutched to my chest like a crucifix.
“Then the smile begins to fall away, lowering itself until it’s just a blur behind the foggy part of the window. In its place are two eyes.” The man takes a breath, shuddering, trembling. “They’re wide, angled all wrong and they’re leaking this… black fluid. They dart around the washroom as if looking for something.
“I stay still. Still as I can, like I’m fucking paralyzed. There’s no light in the room, none except the bits of moon framing the monster in the window, so I let myself meld into the darkness. I don’t move an inch, and I pray to god the creature can’t see me there.”
He shivers, reaches for his cigarette and takes a drag.
“Then I hear the tapping on the window. Tap. Tap. Tap. It’s followed by this chattering sound, and it takes me a second but I realize it’s her teeth gnashing together, open and shut, open and shut, over and over again. I don’t want to look at her. I don’t. But part of me can’t stop myself, and I glance up and see her eyes staring back at me. Two tiny black dots in a sea of white. My breathing stops. My pulse races. Dribbles of piss run down my leg. It’s just the two of us now, watching one another.”
I lean forward, my interest piqued. Much of his description could have been pulled from the Jagged Janice legend itself. The small black pupils. The rows of inhuman teeth. I check off the features on my clipboard as he goes. “What does she do?” I ask. “When you lock eyes with her?”
He swallows. “She speaks.”
“What does she say?”
“She says,” he stammers. “I see you.”
I write the words down and circle them three times. They’re not familiar to me. “Describe her voice to me. Did she sound old? Young?”
“Her voice was quiet. Hard to hear. The words sounded like they’d been pulled out of a woodchipper. Their pronunciation was broken and unnatural, like they’d been cut up by those… teeth.”
“Curious,” I mutter.
“Her fingers reach up, and she taps the glass again. Tap. Tap. Tap. I chance another look, and all I can see is her terrible, serrated smile in the window. It’s making me feel nauseous. I’ve never been that scared, you know? I close my eyes, wanting the feeling to go away for just a second, but when I open them again the smile’s gone. It’s just me, alone in the bathroom.”
He puts his face in his hands and lets the armor fall away. His shoulders quake with silent sobs. I give him a minute, then another.
“Is that all?” I ask.
No response. It becomes apparent that his account has reached its conclusion.
Disappointing to say the least.
“A harrowing experience,” I say, giving my form a final swipe with my pen. With a sigh, I stand up from my chair, reaching out to shake his hand. “On behalf of the Facility, I’d like to thank you for taking the time to share it with me.”
The man’s sobs taper off. He blinks up at me, with red, puffy eyes and when he speaks his voice is barely there at all. “It’s not over,” he says. “There’s more.”
My heart thrums as I pull back my handshake. A smile slips across my face as I sit back down in my chair, centering my clipboard in front of me. “Something else occurred?”
“Yeah,” he says, wiping his nose on his sleeve. “The next few hours turned into a nightmare.”
I click my pen, skin prickling with goosebumps. “You don’t say?” Now it’s my turn to take a breath, to center myself and calm my nerves. “How very unfortunate.”
“Yeah, you could say that,” he says, sarcasm thick in his voice.
“Please continue, then.”
“It… It takes me ten minutes before I can muster the courage to crack the bathroom door. When I do, I do it gently. Quietly. You can hardly even hear the shitty hinges creak, that’s how careful I am. I peek out of the crack, looking for the smiling woman, terrified that I’m going to see her standing in the living area waiting for me, but I don’t.
“There’s nobody else in the cabin. It’s just me. So I step out, moving across the hardwood floor. It creaks and groans with every step I take and each time that it does, my heart skips a beat and I expect to see her jump out of the darkness. I’m seeing that smile everywhere now. In every shadow. In every window. I want to shout and scream— I want to call out to my friends in the tent and beg them to pull me out of this horror, but they’re beyond the cabin door. Out there at the far end of the yard. They’re a world away.”
“And your phone,” I ask. “You never thought to use that to call for help?”
“Yeah, sure,” he says, rolling his eyes. “I’m on a backwater island off the coast of rural BC. I’ve got great cell service out there.” He shakes his head. “I couldn’t get a cell signal if I climbed to the top of the tallest tree. My phone was a glorified flashlight.”
A fair point.
“Since I can’t call for help, I psyche myself up. I’ve got my hand on the front doorknob, and I’m ready to fling the door open and scream bloody murder, run to my friends and tell them we need to start the truck now because there’s a fucking monster on the island and.... And that’s when I hear it.”
His fingers thrum the metal desk. Tap. Tap. Tap.
“In the window next to the front door, I see a long arm in a frayed sleeve, with crooked fingers playing against the glass. They’re drumming a rhythm. Something… awful. It’s noise masquerading as song.”
“Then I hear her again. I see you, she says in a gravely, guttural voice. The tapping gets faster. Heavier. I pull away from the window, from the door, and fall back into the shadows of the cabin. She must be twelve feet tall because her head cranes down into the window frame, all the way from the top of it. Her eyes are gleaming in the moonlight, darting around and swiveling again in ways they shouldn’t be able to. She’s searching again. For something— me maybe. I don’t know.”
The man finishes his cigarette and slips a fresh one out of the pack. He lights it, trembling, and sucks in on the nicotine. His expression softens. “Then she’s gone,” he says.
“Gone?” I ask, disappointed. “Again?” There’s nothing in the Jagged Janice mythology that indicates her vanishing and reappearing at regular intervals.
“Gone,” he confirms. “I’m alone. Time passes. Minutes, maybe hours. I don’t know. I just sit there in the living room, my ears and eyes straining for any sound, any movement, anything at all. I’m shaking and breathing in short bursts, terrified if I breathe too heavily she’ll hear me. I wonder to myself how long it's been. How long there’s still to go until the sun rises, and somebody wakes up and comes to check on me or use the washroom. I think about using my phone to check the time, but the idea of its blacklight giving me away terrifies me, so I don’t. I just sit there and wait.”
“How long do you wait? Until morning?”
He laughs. Takes another drag. “Fuck no,” he says. “It takes a while, but eventually I get calmer, or maybe too scared to keep sitting there doing nothing. Maybe I just need to reassure myself that this nightmare has an ending. I don’t know.” He gnaws at his fingernail. “I’m fucking quivering as I pull my phone outta my pocket. Shaking like a leaf. I turn it on, and my home screen lights up my face like I’m about to tell a campfire story.”
“What time is it?”
“3:34 a.m. Two hours from sunrise, at that time of year.” The man sighs, running a hand along his jaw. “It’s too long for me. I can’t do it, you know? I decide I need to do something now before that woman comes back because I have this horrible feeling that the next time she shows up she’s going to be inside the cabin. She’s going to find me. So I tell myself to make a run for it. Wake up my friends. It’s easy, I think. I’ll open my mouth and fucking scream my lungs out, and that way even if she gets in my way then at least everybody on the island will wake up, and maybe I’ll get out of there in one piece. So I do it, I open my mouth and I scream.
“But nothing happens,” he says quietly. His expression darkens. Tears slip from the corners of his eyes, and his lip trembles all over again. “No sound comes out. Instead, a hand that’s long and crooked wraps itself around my mouth. It pulls my head back, and I smell rot and decay and seaweed, and a voice whispers in my ear like a lawn mower. I see you.”
Janice. I lean forward, gazing at him expectantly. “How did you get away?”
He wipes at his eyes, choking back the last of his sobs. “No idea. I blacked out. When I woke up I wasn’t in the cabin anymore, I was in a hospital bed surrounded by my friends.”
“Same ones from the cabin?”
“That’s right.”
I check a box on my form labeled SURVIVOR. Then I chew on the back of my pen for a second before checking a second box: POST-TRAUMATIC STRESS AFFECTED.
“And what do these friends say? Anything useful?”
“They tell me it’s all their fault,” he says. “Em mumbles about how we should never have come out to the cabin in the first place. Steve and Haily are blaming themselves for letting me get exceptionally drunk.” He cracks a bittersweet smile. “Everybody wants a share of the guilt.”
My eyes drift down to the man’s file. “You said the island was remote. I’ll assume the hospital wasn’t local to it?”
“No,” he says. “It was off the island. An hour or so inland. I must have been out for a day at least though, because I don’t remember ever travelling there.”
“Interesting.” A recurring aspect of the Janice mythology is a sense of mild amnesia and the presence of minor to severe bite wounds. “What did the hospital treat you for?”
He clears his throat. “A mild concussion. And water in my lungs.”
“Water in your lungs?” I shake my head, dropping my pencil. Perhaps I should be happy the young man survived whatever terror visited him that night, but so many pieces of his story don’t match the mythology at all. “You’re certain? Water in your lungs?”
“That’s right,” he says. “The doctors didn’t understand it either. I never even got a chance to take a dip in the ocean, let alone drown in it.”
“Okay, let me get this straight. So your friends pop by, leave you some get-well cards and you get discharged a couple of days later.” I lean back in my chair, folding my arms. “Does that about sum things up?”
The man looks away, rubbing his arm. “Not exactly,” he says darkly. “Before they leave, I tell them about the smiling woman. I ask them if they’ve seen a tall woman with razor sharp teeth lurking around the island. Steve and Hailey look at eachother like I must have hit my head harder than anybody thought. The look in their eyes… It's like they’re terrified I’ve given myself brain damage. Steve squeezes my arm and apologizes over and over for doing shots with me. Says he should’ve gone easy for the first night. Hailey agrees. Says I drove them all the way out there, so they should have let me get some sleep.”
“And your other friend?” I ask. “Emily?”
“She’s standing back. Staring at me, and her eyes are filled with… I don’t know. Regret? But it’s different from Steve and Hailey. She doesn’t look like she feels sorry for me. She looks like she really blames herself for all of this. I say her name, Emily. Ask her if she’s seen the woman because I get the sense that she has.”
I slide my pen down my clipboard and circle a word that says WITNESS before annotating it with a small question mark. “How does she respond?”
“She leaves,” he says with a sigh. “I don’t think she wants to talk about the woman— at least, not in front of Hailey and Steve. Pretty soon everybody leaves. It’s just me again, in some tiny hospital on the outskirts of nowhere. The only company I’ve got is the apple tree outside my window and the shitty TV. I sleep pretty uneasily that night. Tossing and turning. I wake up at one point to the sound of tapping, and I stare out my window horrified, expecting to see that woman again, but it’s just the apple tree. It’s branches are brushing against the glass.
“I wonder to myself if this is just my life from now on. If everytime I hear the faintest sound at night, I’m going to wake up in cold sweats thinking that woman’s come back for me. Then the door creaks open. My body goes into full-blown panic, my breath hitches in my chest, my muscles tighten, and it’s like that night all over again, with the smiling woman where I can’t move an inch for fear.
“But it’s just Emily,” he says, chuckling in disbelief. “She pauses in the doorway and asks me if she can come in. I tell her that of course she can, and she does, not bothering to turn on the lights. When she gets to my bedside, I can see her face more clearly by the light of the window. She looks rough. Her eyes have these heavy bags, and her cheeks are all red and splotchy from crying. She’s wiping snot on her sleeve and telling me sorry, over and over.”
“Sorry for what? Inviting you out to the cabin?” I say, doing my best not to roll my eyes. I’ve never seen a group of friends with such a guilty conscience.
“No,” the man says. “She says she’s sorry for not warning me about the woman. She says she thought the woman was gone, otherwise she’d never have come back to that place.”
“What?” I snap forward, eyes latching onto his. “She told you she knew about the woman?”
He nods. “She said the circumstances of her brother’s death were different than she’d originally told us. He didn’t drown— not accidentally. He was murdered. A woman attacked them on the beach, a woman with a terrible smile and this tangle of black, messy hair that covered her face. She dragged Em’s brother backward through the sand, muffling his screams with her hand, and then held him under the surf. She kept him there until he stopped moving. Then, she let the tide take him away.”
“Disturbing,” I say. “And she never brought this up to her parents?”
"She did. Her father told her it was just her imagination. He said that her brother had fallen into the ocean and gotten swept away, and it was already hard enough to deal with without Emily adding to it. So Emily just buried the memory. Moved on."
The man looks up at me, his expression despondent. “That’s when we hear it,” he says. "In the hospital room. A tapping. Tap. Tap. Tap. It comes from the window to my right, the one with the old apple tree.”
“The woman?”
“I don’t look. I tell Emily not to look either. I tell her to focus on me, to ignore the sound. I don’t know what she saw as a little girl, down by the ocean, but I know I don’t want her to see what I saw in that cabin." He shudders. "I don’t want her to see that smile."
“Does she listen to you?”
He grips a fistful of his hair, closes his eyes. “No,” he says quietly. “She looks, and when she does, she screams. She screams so loudly that the lights come on down the hall, and Inurse bursts in and pulls Emily away, calls a patrol car the night nurse call out and start running. Emily rushes toward the window, I catch sight of it from the corner of my eye because I still refuse to look at that pane of glass, but I hear Emily beating against it with her fists. Clawing at it with her nails. Then the her to drive her home.”
The man takes a breath. He puts his face in his hands and rubs his eyes. “I text her an hour later. Just to make sure that she’s okay and—”
“—Yes,” I say, cutting him off. I glance at the folder on my desk labeled CORRESPONDENCE, then down at the watch on my wrist. It’s three in the morning, and I’m jet-lagged. The meat of the man’s story appears to have run its course. “If the texts are everything that’s left then I can read them on my own.” I rise from the desk and offer my hand to shake. He gives it a weak, reluctant squeeze, avoiding my eyes. Then he leaves the room without another word.
I sigh, sitting back down in the steel chair. Another long day. Another dead end. I adjust my glasses and pull out the text logs. There’s only a handful of message receipts. The chance is slim, but the possibility that there’s something in there about Jagged Janice entices me too much to set them aside for tomorrow.
I begin to read.
As I do, I make note of the timestamps. Words do a good job of painting a picture, but time and location lend context to everything.
01:34 Dorian: are you okay?
02:12 Emily: Not really
02:12 Dorian: did you see her?
02:45 Dorian: em, im sorry. that was a stupid text
02:45 Emily: It's fine.
02:46 Dorian: im guessing you dont feel like talking
02:46 Emily: Actually, it might be good for me
02:47 Dorian: yeah? okay. me too
02:47 Dorian: i never got a chance to tell you earlier, but i cant imagine how horrible it must have felt to see what happened to your brother and have your dad not believe you?? thats fucked
02:55 Emily: It's fine. We were never close anyway.
02:55 Dorian: sorry to hear. did you ever tell your mom? I mean, before she passed?
02:56 Emily: No. Mom was already dying by then and dad would've killed me
02:56 Dorian: fuck. im an asshole. how could I forget something like that? sorry agajn
02:57 Emily: You're not an asshole. You're right that I would have told her about Jonas if I could have
02:59 Emily: By then she was so hopped up on painkillers though that I hardly even recognized her
03:00 Dorian: the meds must have been pretty heavy. thats a lot to deal with for a four year old kid.
03:01 Emily: Yeah, her esophageal cancer was bad. She was in a lot of pain near the end and rarely in a good mood. Pretty sure dad was having an affair at the time too. Fuckin prick
03:01 Dorian: im sorry. thats a shitty memory to bring up
03:03 Emily: Dont be. I think I repressed a lot of old memories of her which probably isnt healthy
03:05 Emily: Honesrly, if it wasn't for you, I'd probably think I was going crazy right now
03:05 Dorian: why?
03:06 Emily: I saw her too.
03:06 Dorian: the smiling woman?
03:07 Dorian: em?
03:34 Emily: My mother
03:34 Emily: I see my mother
I stare at the last word in stunned silence. Her mother? Could she actually have been the origin of the legend? I rub a hand along my jaw, considering what I've heard of Emily's history. She had only been four years old at the time of her brother's death when she had witnessed a crazed woman drag him into the sea, a woman who she couldn’t identify because black hair obscured her face.
Could that woman have been her own mother? It doesn’t seem terribly likely. But it doesn’t seem impossible either. Children often reframe moments of terror in a bid to understand the incomprehensible.
I reach for my briefcase, unclasping the latches on the front and pulling out my laptop. I take a breath and then open up the database software. Emily’s easy enough to find. Her last name is plastered everywhere across her social media, so I plug that in. The search function isn't the fastest, but it does the trick. It takes thirty seconds for the tiny, rotating hourglass to stop spinning, and when it does I see her.
SUBJECT: EMILY KALDWELL
FATHER: HARLOD KALDWELL
MOTHER: JANICE KALDWELL [DECEASED]
I swallow, my hands shaking on the keyboard.
Had I finally found Jagged Janice? I pour myself a glass of water, finishing it in two giant swigs. It does little to calm my nerves. Still, it's one piece of the puzzle solved, but really it just creates more questions. It doesn’t explain several aspects of the man’s story. The water in the lungs, for instance. Or the vanishing. Certain pieces of his encounter don’t add up, at least not compared against the original legend.
There’s a knock on the door.
Three sharp raps with a knuckle. I get up to answer it, thinking maybe the man’s forgotten his phone or wants to give me back my pack of smokes. When I open the door though, there’s nobody.
I raise an eyebrow and head back to my laptop. I need to discover the source for these changes, these departures from the Jagged Janice mythology. This time I bring up my web browser, navigating to one of my preferred resources on urban legends. The website's a bit corny, but it's proven accurate, and its community aspect has been invaluable in my research.
After some scrolling, I bring up the Jagged Janice article. People can leave anecdotal encounters beneath the main text, and sometimes they do. Usually, they’re all bullshit.
One of them catches my eye, however. It mentions seeing the serrated smile, the tapping fingers, and… that they found their infant child dead with water in its lungs. I shake my head. A coincidence, that’s all. I keep scrolling. More keywords jump out at me.
“... there and then gone.”
“... voice like a meat grinder.”
“... to the sea with you.”
I pause. Those were the words Emily said, words she remembered when she witnessed her brother being pulled into the ocean. To the sea with you. My mind spins, but a picture is forming. The guttural, difficult to understand voice. The drowned brother. The words.
“I see you.”
No. She was never saying those words, not really. She was saying to the sea with you. The man misheard, or perhaps he couldn’t properly understand because of Janice’s damaged voice. In his panic he likely defaulted to the simplest sounding phrase.
My heart races, I reach for my phone to make a call, to tell my boss what I’ve found. It wasn’t long ago the Facility had an incident with a Man with a Red Notepad, one in which we learned the core principle of all legends and one which cost many people their lives: that legends evolve.
If the Jagged Janice legend has evolved, we need to allocate additional resources to locating it and neutralizing it. I continue to scroll, noticing many of the anecdotes have been posted in the last week. Several, in the last few days. If even half of them are true, it'd imply highly increased activity on Janice's part.
I hear another knock at the door—three soft raps. I curse, kicking off from my desk and storming to the door, phone still pressed to my face waiting for my boss to pick up. Once more, I swing it open, and once more, I look down a cold, empty hallway.
I slam the door shut and stalk back to the table. My phone continues to ring, and my boss continues to ignore my call. It's really not like her, but I tell myself to relax. She's probably sleeping. According to my watch, it’s late as hell— 3:34 in the morning to be precise. That makes me an asshole, maybe, but this discovery is too big, too dangerous to ignore. Janice is out there, and she’s on the move.
Three more knocks ring out. These are softer than before. More gentle.
Almost taps.
#creative writing#creepypasta#writing#original writing#writeblr#scary shit#ghost stories#creepy#writeblr community#urban legends#jgmartin#the facility#jagged janice#writers#writers of tumblr#horror#am writing#tumblr writers#writblr#fiction writing#writer community#writerblr#writers and poets#writers on tumblr#writerscommunity#writing blog#writing community#writings#writerscreed#nosleep
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idk I think a few years ago when I really realized what all was happening. like I loved (and love that’s important) my family and wanted as much time with them as possible. but a part of me was like “this is bad. this is really bad. and it’s gonna get worse. for sure it is going to get worse. but then you can grieve and things will be lighter and eventually easier. you’ll find new ways to cope and things will suck and you’ll miss them forever but it won’t be so painful. for them or for you. they’ve made their peace so you need to start too” and I know it’s selfish. but none of that is true lol. not in the least. I want em all back. even in the worst of it. I knew how to handle that. knew how to just be when they were here. knew how to care for them and look after them and help. I mean that’s all I’ve ever done. and that’s not a complaint for anyone except my mom. but now I just don’t have that. and life feels a little purposeless. idk. when you’ve been taught since a kid that your reason for being there is looking after people and then all the people you have to care for die it’s hard. and I mean. those were some of the most traumatizing years of my life. having to see family slowly go from strong and themselves to weak and not. like I wouldn’t wish watching ppl you love waste away like that on anyone bc it genuinely is the worst thing I’ve ever seen. but yet I’d be right back there in the worst of it. feeling like there’s no way my heart could break any more if it meant I had them back and could love them. all of them. I talk about my grandma a lot but really I think that’s just because she was always with everyone. I miss my aunt. and my uncle. and my papa. and even sometimes I miss my stupid ass mom. I saw every one of my family cry and they never cried. and I think about that a lot. I remember when my aunt was in hospice and how my uncle never left her side. he still talked to her just like he did before. kept saying how he heard that their hearing is the last thing to go and that broke me a little bit. he didn’t want her to be lonely and I don’t think she was. she had a room full of people loving her. and that was right. that is how everyone should leave. but it doesn’t work that way and it makes me so so so angry. I was the only one who visited my papa. I was the only one who took my grandma to see him. me and her had to be there alone and hear him cry and beg to come home and talk about how he missed us. and we couldn’t and that broke me too. the fact that that was only a few weeks before he died hurts to think about. I think the last thing I remember feeding him was some cherry pie. idk why I remember weird little things like that. I’m glad I do but I also hate it. because I love remembering them. all of them. but I hate it too because it hurts so fucking much all the goddamn time. they’re everywhere but actually here with me. they were all so ingrained into my life for my whole life that it genuinely just feels like bits of me, the bits that are me, are missing. just snatched right out of me and I feel so empty and literally nothing has can or will make me feel whole again. I do not see how people deal with grief when it is so suffocating for me. I know I’m not the only person to experience grief. and I’m sure other people have experienced it worse, as hard as that is to imagine. but grief is so fucking tricky that it really does just make you feel alone in it.
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CAP CHAPTER 74 ROCKED
AND I WROTE THINGS HERE YA GO
SPOILERS BELOW!!!
Yknow i had to do it to em (play eye of the tiger based off of the chapter title, i think I’ll play gonna fly too, training montage music)
EXCELLENT START.
Love the dialogue already, Rena I love you dearly.
I know you made the massive time skip because of your break from Panthera while writing, But i do actually quite like how it means they’ve been at this for almost a full year by now
Insane for this. “Yes and no, that was Ladybug’s training”
The fuck will she do to them. I am so ready to find out
SHE’S SO INTENSE I LOVE HER LOVE THIS SIDE OF HER
I hope LB doesn’t interfere too much, I want to see how everyone deals with this side of Panthera
It’s hard to be fast at falling- hHA i am actually wheezing, i love this
Help this is awesome
I’m terrible at commenting on action, but this flows really smoothly and I’m loving how Panthera is explaining shit to them while they are flailing
I feel like LB will be pulled in to make a point about team work
How is she wearing a hat with the cat ears
Awww Anarka tips cute
I love this
I enjoy Panthera beating hte three of their asses
I’m really waiting for the moment the tension between LB and Panthera explodes, because the push and pull between them can’t keep up like this! Especially because you have hinted at the Akuma becoming more dangerous
Thats an argument / conversation I can’t wait to read.
Well i can wait, I would rather things are appropriately set up and you were happy with writing them Cap. does that make sense?
Help not Chloe hating Nadia, tbh she gives me bad vibes considering how ready she was to use children to boost her own show rating.
Also, stealing a reporters microphone is such a funny idea.
JULEKA YOU THICK HEADED IDIOT NOTICE WHO RENA IS PELASE I BEG OF THEE
I still find it funny that Juleka is so bothered by not knowing who rena is.
I love the alya appreciation, she’s a really really fun character especially in this, Chloe buying her an expensive camera is so funny though
Help-
“They only ask me why I’m a boy on an all girl’s team and if I’m dating you guys.” Carapace huffed, tugging at his hood. “I’m also bi but I’m thinking of aiming for dating a dude next time I’m looking to date just so I can spite them.”
I’M OBSSESSED WITH NINO HERE HELP
Mainly because i was just thinking that “huh, i forgot that without Adrien as Cn team miraculous really seems like a girls thing
OOOO
“They’re not my rules”
Juleka saying this to them really forces them all to see that the partnership is unbalanced
This is like the different expectations of my divorced parents this sounds stressful to be in a team with
Interesting to see Juleka’s rules though
I like this team conversation, I’m very curious about how much we’ll see with the five of them
The talk about dreams is fun, I am curious about what Chloe will end up wanating to do
The whole “Oh was that an implication thing?” was cute
Juleka thinking the fact that we all end up dying is a reassuring thing is so funny help
leaving the three to a long moment without their two leaders. Or.. was it leader and her second in command.
THAT SHWTA I’M TALKING ABOUT!!!!!!!!!!! POWB YEAH UNBALANCED SYSTEM AND SHE NOTICED WOOO
It is very interesting that they never thought of it like that before though, I’m pretty sure the media had implied that Juleka was second in command, or that might have been Juleka bias working
Cap you have no idea how insane i am for the inevitable LB and Panthera disagreement on how to run things, like I feel like there will have to be a big push because Juleka is unlikely to challenge it without them even though she feels really strongly for it
But Alya’s observation has just made me more interested
I do need it to be known that I’m not trying to vilify Marinette! I love her character in this! She’s so interesting with how she sees things and how dedicated she is, and she is a good hero!
I’m just.. Really interested to see what happens when Panthera and her are actively opposing each other
The fact that Panthera fights like she’s dancing has me feeling wild
And actually helps me visualise how she fights a lot more, not that it was hard before but this makes a lot of details click
YAY THEY BEAT HER!!!
Ooo, Fu talk. And. wait. PROGRESS ON THE PERMANENT HEROS THING WOOHOO
We all know LB has just not asked Fu about it at all
I’ve never really stopped to wonder why
I think I assumed it was because she didn’t want to maybe go against Fu, but I don’t think that really fits…
Huh.
More to think about, though I do apologise if you’ve made that particular motivation clear and I’ve accidentally blanked it!
Oh shit
Never mind
Were talking about the metalica moment that’s crazy insane
Never mind fade to black
God I am so curious about what she’ll be able to do with that when it is more controlled
Hang on wasn’t she not transformed? Oh no, nvm plagg can leave the ring now
the end was so cute- help not Chloe buying expensive shit for people, love that for her
I seem to have said less than usual! i'm a bit frantic rn, so sorry about that! I'm not sure how much either of my asks made sense, they really are just stream of conscious so I do apologise for anything that is confusing!
Im glad you liked the time skip- Ive heard some comments expressing their unhappiness or discomfort with it so,, yeah;;
I can't wait for panthera and ladybug's dynamic in season 3. if you guys love ladynoire toxic yuri oh boy season 3+4 will be the seasons for you guys <3
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SteveTony Weekly - February 26th
Hello, friends!!! Here’s the fantastic stories I read this week! Check ‘em out and be sure to leave a comment/kudos for your authors!
~*~
love sees loveliness by ArabellaAM, meidui (orphan_account), ohjustpeachy
In which every attempt at getting rid of Steve's crush on Tony only makes it worse.
these embers of hurt by meidui
When the people he loves get hurt, their wounds show up on his body, and the serum races to heal him before it kills him.
(The job makes it easy to pretend, but sometimes, just sometimes, there's a dark twisting thing that curls protectively over his heart, snapping at the people he loves—you did this to me. You hurt me.)
met my destiny (in quite a similar way) by ishipallthings
“I’m in love with you.”
The spatula in Tony’s hand clatters to the floor with an audible thwack.
(In which Tony is incredulous, Steve is determined, and absolutely no pancakes are made for breakfast.)
spring little cobra (getting ready to strike) by robertdowneyjjr
When Steve got off the couch to go looking for Tony today, he didn’t think he’d be shoving his tongue down the other man’s throat the moment he saw him.
If You Can't Say Anything Nice, Say It in PowerPoint by gogglor
The team gets fed up with Steve and Tony's mutual pining and decides to lay things out for them in the bluntest, most obvious manner they can think of.
Steve and Tony use a similar approach in their response.
Standalone fic.
Jurassic times call for Jurassic measures by Fluffypanda
A trip to the Savage Land goes very, very wrong.
And I Won't Die For Love by tinystark616
Tony never thought it could happen to him. He's heard of it before of course, but just like most diseases, you always hear about it happening to other people. You never expect it to happen to you.
More With Every Breath by KandiSheek
Steve gets hit with an alien pathogen that turns his senses up to eleven. All of his senses.
Tony never thought he'd have to protect Captain America's virtue from himself, but here we are.
For All The Pleasure And The Certainty by KandiSheek
Eve Rogers has her hang-ups about the twenty-first century. One of which goes by the name of Antonia Stark. And with her comes... well. A whole host of confusing things.
Take a Shine by Rowantreeisme
Tony flew through the portal with a warhead in his hands.
He let go, and he wasn’t scared.
Safest Hands by Annie D (scaramouche)
In the one universe sideways, it’s 2016 and the Avengers have fled underground in the wake of what is the worst streak of bad luck they've ever had. Steve, Tony and Natasha are on the run together, and take temporary cover at a friend’s house.
Inside/Outside (the freedom remix) by Robin_tCJ
Tony Stark's mentor and second-in-command, Obadiah Stane, has framed him for international arms dealing, and Tony has wound up in prison, sharing a cell with Steve Rogers, a Special Ops soldier who doesn't belong behind bars, either.
Dead Man’s Hand by Fluffypanda
Sheriff Steven Rogers receives a visit and a warning from an Iron Man
Middle of Nowhere by ChocolatePudgePop, janonny, peculiva, thisissirius, XxWanderlustxX (franzwantscoffee)
“How much longer?”
“About five minutes since the last time you asked.”
Tony huffs and Steve rolls his eyes good naturedly. It’s not that Tony can’t walk, it’s that he chooses not to unless it’s absolutely necessary.
Touch Me, Taste Me, Tell Me I'm Not Fading... by Firelightmystic
Steve dies on a Saturday.
Steve strolls into the common room’s kitchen Sunday morning like nothing is wrong, and makes himself comfortable at the table.
calling my bluff on all my usual tricks by ArabellaAM, Sagana_Rojana_Olt
When Tony’s father forces him to spend his summer in Fort Bragg building the Jericho missiles, he sets out to make all those soldiers’ lives miserable just out of spite. He’s succeeding until he first meets General Steve Rogers. He only needs one look at him to know he wants his hands on him.
And what Tony wants, he gets.
rutted old road by meidui
It’s his loneliness screaming, out here in the mountains where nobody else is, begging to know—are you like me?
#stevetony weekly#stevetony fic#stevetony#stevetony fic rec#Steve Rogers#tony stark#captain america#Iron Man#fic rec#rec lis
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Juli, I very much agree with your post regarding racism and holding everyone accountable in the HOTD fandom, but please clarify for me:
First, your words, not mine:
- If you see shit behavior like racism and other sorts of bigotry call that shit out. Seriously, dont let it slide and do something about it
So, we’ve all seen this happen the last few days. People have been called out, sure, but what has actually been done about it?
It confounds me to see you continue to support Ange, who hasn’t taken accountability or accepted responsibility at all. Em has made progress at least. Ange has only whined and deflected as usual. These two have only apologized because they’ve gotten caught.
So, as you said, why not “put your money where your mouth is” and do something about a very obvious problem coming from a big and influential account?
Why continue to defend her? Seems like you’re letting them slide, which is contradictory of your entire post.
First things first, the people who were hurt have made amends or cut off the people who hurt them. Those who doxxed officerbrowneyes amd harassed people on here are seemingly gone or at least have learned their lesson.
As much as i agree with you that more should be done, not much is actually done in these cases beyond agreeing not to do it again, kicking the offenders off the fandom and hoping this shit doesn't repeat itself. Frankly i have low hopes with this fandom because its hotd where racism and even division is quite literally baked into the source.
As for Ange and Em:
I do not condone their actions, if they hadn't taken accountability and apologized for their behavior i would’ve cut ties with them but not before letting them know with my full name and blog (in a dm first because thats how you do it, and a call out post if necessary) that i found their actions abhorrent and warn people about them. When i have a problem with someone, i am upfront about it before warning people privately and blocking said person.
Do i think they should've acted sooner?
Yes, especially because i truly believed fae and bel were my friends all the while they knew they had done and continued to do awful shit. And also because the things said in those screenshots(the real ones simce the others dont even match the way they speak) are awful.
We had a right to know and because they feared repercussions (namely for being white women and bel being a mixed race woman with a lot of followers here) it ended up being too little and too late.
I've not let it slide, we have a saying in mexico, forgive but don't forget. Tbh if i get bad vibe from them or see they're back to being the people they were last July be sure that i will block them after I've called them out on their bullshit.
Oh and anon, i have put my money where my mouth is, you however have clearly not because you sent this via anon and not your blog. This could've easily been a dm if you wanted to keep your privacy
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I try not to make snap judgments in the moment.
A long time ago, a friend of mine waxed poetic about why she hated a celebrity. Friend A told us horrible stuff she remembered them saying, and we were all fairly repulsed.
Then Friend B said, “I’m pretty sure you’re thinking of someone else.”
Friend A frowned. “No. Wait, why?”
“Because That Celebrity did a graduation speech and spoke out against what you’re saying. It’s on YouTube.”
Friend C said, “That’s even worse, then. Hypocrite. Be upfront about your terrible personality traits.”
Friend B said, “Hang on, I’ll look it up.”
And this is when I felt strange, because Friend B was the only one doing research on their phone while the rest of us just watched and waited in expectant silence. Friend C had even buckled down on Celebrity Being Bad even though they’d only just heard some accusations from Friend A minutes before. We trust our friends to have done the research, I think.
Seconds later, Friend B said, “Yeah, you’ve been talking about Another Celebrity.” They read aloud part of an article that quoted the same things Friend A had just told us.
Friend A sat with that for a second, forehead creased, and then said, “Oh, fuck. They were in that movie together! I’ve tarred the wrong feather. Sorry, Celebrity.”
We laughed and moved on.
We were all in our early twenties at the time, and that exchange took up maybe ten minutes of a several-hour hangout during which more exciting things probably happened. It stayed with me, though, and recently while I was scrolling through a comment section, I saw someone claim, “This person said [horrible bigoted thing],” and sixteen people replied with variations on, “EW, I hate them now.” They were all likely strangers, but there was this feral nature in how amenable they were to accept a terrible thing without any evidence at all. (Would someone on the internet lie?)
It wasn’t the first time. I see that exact scenario play out at least once a week. A person accuses someone of a bad thing, some commenters say, “Really?”, the person says, “Yup,” and the commenters say, “Sounds legit. Fuck that person.”
And it strikes me as bizarre that people can just…automatically accept the worst they hear about others without proof. What’s worse, the burden of evidence isn’t on the person making the claim—it’s on whoever cares enough to do the research. I don’t know if there’s a cultural element at play here, but I do suspect that people raised in the United States of Love the Sinner Hate the Sin have a super special proclivity to Moral Judgment. Regardless of one’s cultural faith or religion or lack thereof, I think the States’ particular brand of cultural Christianity seeps into everything and encourages our righteous anger and a subsequent hobby of enthusiastic othering. I see it online constantly, especially in fandom, dressed up as progressive activism: “This person has sinned, and we must punish them.”
There’s rarely much focus on any potential evolution or growth of the accused—just judgment and punishment. But that’s another topic.
Mostly I find it disturbing that so many of us seem to hope that someone else has Done Wrong. So vehemently that they’ll believe a terrible thing from some random person online without looking it up themselves. Username lovelysharktesticles probably did their research, and even if they didn’t, the person they’re accusing is human, so they probably did something bad even if it’s not this thing. Pitchfork ‘em.
That’s not to say that everyone needs to do an internet search on their phones whenever someone makes a casual claim in conversation. I’ve done it, and sometimes the person is right that Someone Said a Bigoted Thing, but they were wrong about which bigoted thing. Or they’ve missed some crucial piece of context that doesn’t explain away what they did, but it takes the severity down several notches. When it’s something I don’t want to or have no way to research in the moment, I just say, “Really?” and then make neutral noises after that. If I remember, I’ll look it up later. That’s if the conversation is in person.
Online, in public spaces, I rarely trash talk anyone. Privately, in chats or whatnot, it’s easier to open a window and do five seconds of research. It’s just a habit at this point. Human memories are notoriously unreliable, judgment is a bonding exercise, and I won’t be told who to judge by a mob parroting accusations they heard from someone else.
I just hope the burden shifts to the person making the accusation, because there are some wild claims out there, and not all of them are true.
#this post brought to you by a comment section accusing a celebrity of racism#and yep he is#research is sexy y’all#judging terrible people is also fun but y’know#i think we’d all benefit from taking less pleasure in hating others#just y’know#hope they’ll improve#some people are irredeemable but i’m not talking about them#internet judgment makes me sad happy sunday <3
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