#seriously hope you enjoy

[victorluvsalice]

Merry Christmas SatiricalDemon!

@thesatiricaldemon *waves* So you requested a fic about Daniel, Dommik, and N on an inter-dimensional vacation to one of my other fic verses...and the very first thing that came to mind was a follow up on a thread about a certain crystalline butterfly birthday present Dan sent to the Victors that my Secundus boy found very inspiring. XD So yeah, that's what you're getting. Hope you enjoy!

This Feels Like A Recipe For Disaster

“. . .and that allowed me to dampen the threat response! They still react if one of the flock gets injured, but it’s more of a ‘chase away the potential threat’ thing – they won’t try a full swarm unless you full-on shatter one of them.”

“Oh, excellent, excellent! And I see in your notes here you were looking to see if you could get different colors – I would imagine that if you added that lovely compound to the caterpillar mid-metamorphosis, you could get a truly acidic shade of green!”

“Maybe, but that also has a good chance of completely destabilizing the metamorphosis entirely. . .though I guess it’s all about how much I add. . .”

Alice looked over at the two, hunched over the main experimentation table in Victor’s greenhouse lab, and shook her head fondly. “I’m sorry, it sounds like they may be at this for a while,” she commented, turning back to their other two guests. “Victor was – very inspired by that little gift your Dr. Daniel sent along for his birthday.”

“So I can see,” Dommik said, grinning in that rather off-kilter way he had. Then again, Alice supposed that since he was really some sort of odd vampire-worm thing running around in a human suit (and how she wished she didn’t know that), it was only to be expected. “Daniel was hoping that he’d enjoy the statue, but I don’t think he expected him to try and recreate it.”

Normally it’s a bad idea for anyone to attempt to copy anomalous flora and fauna, N added, their cold gaze fixed on Daniel and Victor as they kept exchanging ideas on tweaks to the crystalline butterflies Victor was working on. But your husband seems to have a rare talent in that regard.

“Only because it’s a butterfly, I’m sure,” Alice replied, folding her arms. “Lepidoptery is Victor’s specialty. He can work with other insects too – we’ve got a hive of modified bees from a honey-making venture he attempted a little while back – and he’s got some talent with engineering, but butterflies and moths are where he shines.” She grinned. “Possibly because his very first project as a Touched was figuring out how to make them glow.”

“Oooh! I’d love to see that!” Dommik said, excitement shining through his eye sockets. “I’m sure they’re beautiful!”

“They are – and much less deadly than the creatures you lot apparently deal with on a daily basis,” Alice said, glancing between them and Daniel. “I thought Secundus could be a rowdy place to live sometimes, but after the stories you’ve told us of your world, it seems almost – peaceful.”

It is a difficult place to exist sometimes, N agreed. But we have found happiness there, regardless of the circumstances. They tilted their head at her. I do still find it interesting you do not exhibit the same Hume potential as the Alice we know at home.

“Oh, I’d love to be able to bend reality to my will,” Alice grumbled. “It’d make life so much easier. . .then again, your Alice seems to have had a very different life to mine, even if some of the broader events match up?”

“Mmm? Oh, yes – I’ve noticed your meta-narrative placement is much different from hers,” Daniel commented, looking up from the notepad he’d been sharing with Victor. “As is this Victor’s from the one I know. No waking up Emily means no potential for necromancy at all!”

“I’ll take raising butterflies over raising the dead,” Victor mumbled, scribbling something with a frown. “Hmmm – I’m not entirely sure that’s adding up right. . .”

“I’m just wondering where Smiler is,” Dommik said, looking around.

Alice blinked, then glanced over at Victor, who looked equally confused. “Ah – who?”

“You know – Smiler! Your themfriend?”

“Wrong universe, dearest,” Daniel said, with a slightly softer version of his trademark manic grin. “This romantic situation was resolved before their creation – though they may be here somewhere in potentia! Perhaps I could look into the matter!”

“Who are they?” Victor asked. “Other than a ‘themfriend.’” He smiled, tone light. “What, are we supposed to be a threesome too?”

Daniel laughed. “You could if you wanted to be! In fact, in studying the meta-verse for this trip, I actually located a reality where you and Alice are part of a nine-person polycule!”

Alice and Victor shared another, much more astonished glance. “. . .all right, now you have to tell us about that one,” Alice said after a moment, shaking her head. “Because I have got to know.”

[against-all-odds-im-back]

I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to draw @1spooky2me ‘s fantastic Bill design

[lilybug-02]

Pain is a great motivator…

Part 26 || First || Previous || Next

—Full Series—

Meanwhile Toriel:

(Loud noises don't wake her up usually.)

Artist note: I’m so proud of this :))) I know it’s a lot of dialogue and reading, but dialogue is grueling work for me. I’m glad with the art and for the amount of pages I made in such a relatively short time span -w- page 5 was super fun to work on. A lot of blood, sweat, and hours here... :) The backgrounds were a big bore tbh, but I finished them! Yippie!

[corviiids]

alright. i played death note game for the first time. here are my observations from the three games i played

joined an incredibly lovely lobby. if you guys see this hi im rook and i'm sorry for deceiving you

got kira follower two games in a row

won both, hell yeah

told everyone it was my first time playing the game (true) and that i didn't know how the game worked (also mostly true)

got kira my third game. literally what are the odds of this happening to me i didn't get to side with L a single time

day 1: immediately start killing aggressively with zero subtlety.

raised suspicions to the point i was the literal only suspect and everyone was talking about voting for me

i have all the evidence on me and if i get arrested i lose right here. not good. how do i get out of this

distracted them from interrogating me by asking inane questions and playing dumb

stalled out the timer and diverted conversation until everyone was confused and time ran out, forcing a skipped vote. the timer is LONG. this took a WHILE

one player was ultra sus of me and told everyone else if they died then i must be kira

day 2: immediately handed off the death note and all my evidence to my teammate

instructed them to kill the player who suspected me so that all suspicion would fall on me and not on them

deliberately acted as suspicious as possible to get myself caught at the next meeting

everyone is incredibly sus of me at the meeting because i've been standing near literally everyone

everyone votes for me apologetically ("sorry rook that this is your first experience, no way you got kira three times in a row but it's too sus, hope you get a chance to learn the game properly")

sadly conceded to everyone that i understood i must look very sus and didn't know how to defend myself :(

got arrested. no evidence on me.

guess i'm not kira!

follower killed L

kira wins again :)

monologued to the extremely lovely lobby about my evil plan incl. keikaku doori (joke i made on purpose) and maniacal laughter (this just happened naturally)

"wow. you really do know how to play this game."

(i do not. i got very, very lucky and had excellent teammates. but like, im happy to take credit for it.)

exp boost to 11

[smuttyaf]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐁𝐮𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐨𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐯𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐲𝐥𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐲 𝐝𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐡 𝐦𝐞𝐧, 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐥𝐚𝐫𝐦 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 𝐟𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐢𝐬 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐟𝐢𝐚.

𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐢 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞: 𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐩𝐮𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞/𝐠𝐚𝐬𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐛𝐞𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐫, 𝐢𝐬𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐝𝐫𝐮𝐠𝐬 & 𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞, 𝐝𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐮𝐛𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩, 𝐝𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐲 𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐤, 𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐛𝐝𝐬𝐦. 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐜 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐛𝐞 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭.

𝐚���𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐝

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐮𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬:

his life is starting to affect you.

𝐣𝐚𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐫 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐧’𝐬 𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐛:

the story about how you meet.

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐬𝐭:

harry shows you what he does for work.

𝐲𝐞𝐬, 𝐦𝐫. 𝐬𝐭𝐲𝐥𝐞𝐬: ( 𝐱𝐱𝐱𝐭𝐫𝐚 )

harry introduces bdsm.

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐮𝐥𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐦

secrets cut wounds into the relationship.

𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐛𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐞 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞

you’re compelled to adapt to his lifestyle.

𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞, 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞, 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞? ( 𝐱𝐱𝐱𝐭𝐫𝐚 )

harry likes to see you

[lyntarts]

Me and who?

[sentientcave]

Retirement Party

Chapter 4 - Runaway

<<First Chapter - < Prev Chapter - Next Chapter >

Contains: No Y/N, Kidnapping, Forcible relocation, Dubcon, Plus-sized reader, female reader, Poorly thought out action sequences, Guns, There is something fucking wrong with these guys for real, More reader details given, but we're still pretty vague about it. Even though it is hard for me. No promises for future chapters though I might even tell y'all her name.

~3.8k - MDNI - Dark fic! Please mind the content warning above

You wake in the morning with your nose buried in a thick patch of chest hair, and strong arms around you. Your legs are hooked around one of his thick thighs, and something hard digs into your stomach. You start to inch away, but his arms tighten, and his hips cant against you, a thick, sleepy groan rumbling in his chest. It would be a nice way to wake up, if not for the circumstances. It’s been ages since you slept beside another person, let alone someone that feels as comfortable as John does.

“John,” you say softly. You don’t want to fully wake him up, just get him to let you go. “John, please let me go.”

He hums, one hand sliding to your waist, and then down to your hip, pulling you closer, grinding you against his thigh. You squeak in protest, becoming aware that you’re already wet, like you’ve been unconsciously humping his leg in your sleep for some time. You push your slightly freer top half away a little, so you can look at him. He’s still sleeping, a little frown on his face as he’s pulled unwillingly toward consciousness. He really is handsome, especially like this, all his defences down, grumbling like a hibernating bear.

“Don’t wake up,” you tell him, as if it’ll make any difference. “I just have to pee.”

One of his blue eyes cracks open, a little unfocused. “You comin’ back?” His voice is rough from sleep, rasping like sandpaper.

“Sure,” you say, even though you have no intention of doing so. Your body seems as eager as his is for something you’re sure is dangerous. Maybe he smells good, like tobacco, warm, boozy spices and something undeniably male, and maybe he feels warm and solid against you, but you don’t want to encourage this. You just want to enough space to clear your head. His admissions last night still have you spooked, John’s words not tempered by a night of surprisingly good sleep. “I’ll just be a minute.”

He loosens his hold on you enough that you can wiggle free, his eyes opening a little more so he can watch you slip out of bed. He rolls over onto his back, and starts snoring gently before you’ve even made it to the bedroom door. You take the opportunity to snag one of the bags stacked in front of the closet and your purse off the dresser and bring both to the bathroom with you. You’re not sure what’s in the bag, but you know the larger suitcase has things from your closet in it, so you’re hoping this one has more from your dresser.

You get dressed, glad that most of your underthings and a comfortable pair of jeans and a thick sweater are inside and pack your toothbrush and makeup bag into the larger one, and creep downstairs carefully. One of them is snoring gently on the couch, but otherwise, the house is silent. You carefully fish a set of keys off the hooks by the door and sneak outside. You don’t know where any of your shoes are except the red heels, so you just leave in your sock feet, and pile your things into the pick-up truck. You’ll drive it into town and leave it there, buy a ticket on a train or a bus, and get the hell back home.

It sucks to have to leave everything you own, beyond the clothes in the one bag and the contents of your purse, but maybe you can call the cops— Well. Probably not. Better to just start over anywhere else. You have digital copies of a few pictures of your parents, and that’s better than nothing, even if their wedding album is sitting on a shelf in John’s living room, along with all the family photos that your parents took of you and them while you were growing up. Your mother’s sketchbooks too, and her camera, and your dad’s guitar.

You bite your lip, holding back tears, and start the truck.

No sense mourning things. The memories are in your head and your heart, not trapped in the pages of books or twisted into the strings of the guitar. You don’t need them.

You haven’t driven in a long time, and the truck, unfortunately, is a manual, which you haven’t driven in even longer, but you manage to pull away from the house without revving the engine too hard, and pick up speed once you get to the road, only just remembering to hit the clutch with your left foot before you change gears. You’d feel pretty pathetic if you only made it to the road before stalling out the pickup.

You’re not sure which way town is, but you figure the road has to lead somewhere no matter which way you choose, so you navigate blindly, turning onto a bigger road a little ways down the gravel one that leads to John’s house. Bigger road means more people, although the hour is still so early that there’s no one around yet. The sun is barely up, and it’s still shadowy in the woods on either side of the road. The woods give way to fields suddenly, the sun making a too-bright debut, shining right into your eyes. You flip down the visor and adjust the rear-view mirror, wincing when you see a blue car a ways behind you, approaching fast.

You didn’t notice the car when you were leaving— It must have been parked behind the bigger van that they’d used to move all your things��� but it looks sporty and fast, and judging by the way it closes the gap, there’s no question that it’s them. You push the truck harder, squinting against the light, heart hammering. The car’s engine roars, loud enough that you can hear it over the blood rushing in your ears, and pulls into the lane beside you. Gaz motions for you to pull over from the passenger seat.

You slow up enough that they pull ahead a little, and you yank your steering wheel to the side and stomp down on the gas and the clutch, shifting into third gear and nailing the side of the car, shattering a tail light and making it spin, stopping just shy of the ditch.

For a moment, you’re still close enough to see the shock on their faces, but you’re moving fast and leave them in the dust, at least momentarily. It won’t take them long to recover and catch up again, and if they hit you with the same maneuver, there’s no way you’ll be able to get the truck under control. There’s not enough weight in the bed of the truck to compensate, and you’ll wind up in the ditch for certain.

Funny, how it comes back to you. Learning to drive along mountain roads way outside Aberdeen, either in your dad’s little car or your mom’s old truck (usually the car, which was the easier one to drive. Your dad was the safer driver too, the better parent to learn from), and you can almost imagine your mother in the passenger seat, laughing her head off at the insane circumstances, encouraging you to throw caution to the wind, to get a feel for the road under the wheels and the way the old truck handled. She always laughed when she was under stress, but it’s comforting to think of. Your mum would never let a couple of thick-headed military assholes get the better of her.

The car is catching up again, so you floor it and smash through a fence gate into a muddy field, where the car won’t handle as well, and speed your way across the stubbly remains of wheat, already harvested. The car follows, and, predictably, struggles, the low frame too close to the muck, bumping unhappily over the soft, uneven ground.

Laughter bubbles up in your chest, relieving some of the built-up anxiety. You smash through a segment of the fence on the other side and yank the truck back onto the road, giggling when the truck fishtails a bit, mud slicking the tires on the pavement. There’s so much adrenaline coursing through your system that you feel like you might be sick the moment you let any of this catch up with you. So you keep driving, and pray that it doesn’t.

The car gets close again when you reach another wooded section of road. Through the rearview mirror you can see Gaz pop out of the window, gun drawn, but you don’t hear the crack when it fires, you only feel the impact when the bullet strikes one of the rear tires. You shriek, slamming on the breaks as the truck spins out of your control and off the road, slamming into a tree head on.

The lurch forward as the airbags deploy, your body hitting them hard, knocking all the air out of your lungs as you’re slapped back into he seat. The seat belt bites into your shoulder painfully. You unbuckle yourself quickly, ears ringing too loudly for you to hear the screeching tires of the pursuit car. You fall to the ground when you try to get out, head spinning.

You stumble into the trees, still blinking away double vision. If you can find a good spot to hide— Maybe you can double back and take the car while they chase you blindly through the trees. You cast about, feeling every rapidly forming bruise, wishing desperately that you had shoes, and dive into the underbrush, scooting forward on your belly, brambles catching in your hair as you curl up, out of sight.

“Please come out, doll,” you hear Gaz call out, boots crunching through the woods, closer than you would like. “It’s okay, we’re not mad. Just come out and we’ll take you home, yeah?”

Johnny is yelling further off, his voice incomprehensible but sing-song, mocking. Gaz moves further into the woods. You wait until his voice grows a little more distant before you drag yourself back out, sweater streaked with mud, leaves in your hair, and quickly sneak back to the road. The car is still running, the driver door left open. You breathe a sigh of relief.

“There you are, bird.”

You scream. A gloved hand drops over your mouth, cutting off the sound, and an arm loops around your waist, picking you right up off your feet.

Fuck.

"Look what you did, bird. Wrecked up Price's truck. 'E's not goin' to be 'appy about that." He turns so you can see the slightly smoking truck, the front half of it crumpled beyond repair.

You shake your head until he pulls his hand away from your mouth. "Its not my fault I crashed. Gaz shot the tire out. I wasn't even going to steal it, just leave it in town once I'd gotten to a bus stop."

He hums. You hear the slight crackle of a radio. "Got 'er, lads. Come back to the car."

"Rog."

"Aye."

Ghost shoves you into the back seat. "Stay put," he says sternly. "You're already banged up, don't want to 'ave to tackle you."

You sigh, all the fight leaving you. You feel awful, bruised and shaken up and trembling, and you do nothing but watch as Ghost gathers your things from the truck and puts them in the boot of the car. You slump back in the seat, inspecting the scratches on your hands idly. Your head hurts, and your shoulder aches, and you feel a bit like you've been stepped on, but nothing feels broken, just bruised and tender. You got lucky.

Well, not lucky. There's very little about any of this that counts as luck. Especially considering the look on Johnny's face when he jogs out of the trees. At first he looks stormy, but he grins when he sees you and opens the back door to crawl onto the seat and on top of you.

"Steamin Jesus, where'd ye learn ta drive like tha'?" He asks. "Didnae ken ye were a racer."

"Outside Aberdeen," you reply. Your ribs hurt. Soap’s weight makes every little ache more acute.

"Price isn't gonna be happy about his truck," Gaz says, tossing himself into the driver's seat. "What were you thinking, doll? You could've been hurt."

"You didn't have to shoot the tire." You try to push Soap off, but he wraps himself around you, a bit tight, but bearably so. You’re trembling, and he’s trying to help, in a thoroughly unhelpful way. "I was just trying to get home."

"That's the wrong way. Your home's with Price now." Ghost gets into the other front seat, and Gaz reverses back out onto the road.

You sigh, leaning your head against the window, watching the countryside flash by. It takes an embarrassingly short time to get back to John's house. You didn't get as far as you would have liked, hardly got anywhere at all. Your eyes prickle with tears, but you don't want to cry in front of them. You want to go back to bed, maybe back in time to the morning. You would have been wiser just to curl up next to John again.

Soap drags you from the car, hands a bit rough on your bruises, and pulls you back to the house. John rushes out, worry creasing his face, blue eyes sweeping over you and turning furious. "What happened?" he barks, not at you, but at his men.

"Bird was makin' a run for it," Ghost says.

"Wrecked your truck," Gaz adds.

"That's not my fault!" you protest. "You shot at me!" You glare at him, frustrated tears overflowing down your cheeks. It’s like they have no idea what kind of stress they’ve put you through.

"Woah, woah, c'mere, doll." John pulls you against his chest, wrapping strong arms around you, stilling some of the tremble in your limbs. "You broken?"

You shake your head, leaning into him, gripping his t-shirt tightly. You breathe in raggedly, trying to steady yourself.

"Lads. Why did you shoot at her?"

"Trying to stop the truck."

"She's a civilian you muppets. I take it that the truck's in no shape to drive, or you would've brought it back. You could have killed her." He pets a hand over your head, plucking out a few leaves. "You should’ve let her go."

"She stole your truck!" Soap protests.

"So what? It's wrecked now anyway, innit?" The silence behind you speaks volumes. "Alright, doll, why don't you go get cleaned up? " he murmurs against the top of your head. "I need to talk to the lads, and what I have to say is not fit for a lady's ears."

He gently ushers you into the house and closes the door firmly behind you. You trudge upstairs, feeling utterly pathetic, and lock yourself into the bathroom. Still sniffling, you comb sticks and leaves out of your hair with your fingers and put yourself into a hot shower, where you give yourself the freedom to cry your eyes out, hoping that the sound of water drowns your stifled sobs.

The house is quiet when you shut off the shower and dry yourself off. You wrap the shirt you'd slept in around you and poke your head out into the hallway. John is right there, holding out a bundle of clothes. "Here, sweetheart," he says softly, like he's worried a sharp word will set you off again. He must have heard everything. "I sent the boys to deal with the truck and that tail light, so it's just us. Just come on downstairs when you're ready."

You open the door wide enough to accept the clothes, and he turns to leave again, content to leave anything else to be said when you make it downstairs.

He'd obviously taken his cue from what you'd been wearing already, because he gives you a sweater and jeans again, comfortable worn in things. You go downstairs carefully, every joint and muscle in your body aching, even after the shower.

"How do you take your coffee?" he asks. "Or do you prefer tea?"

"Coffee, please. I can make it. I'd feel better if I did, honestly." You skirt around him to the cupboard where you'd seen Gaz take mugs out, recognizing your own nestled among John's mismatched ones. You put milk and sugar in your favourite mug, and pour in coffee, stirring it throroughly. The clink of the spoon is loud, and so is the pan he sets on the stove top.

"Eggs and toast okay?" He asks.

"Um, yeah. That would be nice. Over easy?"

"Yes ma'am." He looks at you over his shoulder while butter melts in the pan, blue eyes all worry. "Did I say something to you last night? Maybe the sort of thing that made you feel like you needed to steal a truck and run as fast as you could away from here?"

"Um. Yes." You hold onto the mug with both hands. "Some stuff about wanting to start a family. With me."

His ears turn pink. "I see."

"I suppose this is where you tell me it was just the whiskey talking, right?" you ask hopefully. You like him, even if it’s ill-advised, maybe even dangerous to do so.

"Wish I could."

Your stomach twists. “Oh.”

John turns around fully, guilt and sadness written all over his handsome face. He steps closer and touches your arm gently. “I’m so sorry about what my boys have put you through, sweetheart. None of this has been right.” He sighs, brushing a few tendrils of still-wet hair away from your face, studying you, those intense blue eyes focused on you intently. “But there’s something special about you, doll. I really do want to keep you forever. Not if you’re scared, and not if you feel forced— It’s just, the thought of you leavin' and never wanting to speak to me again is— I don’t want that.”

You swallow nervously. “This is just really overwhelming.”

“I know. If I’d known, I wouldn’t have let this happen. Soap really could have just given you my number.” The smile he gives you is hopeful, and you can’t help but return it, just a little. “Now go sit down, doll. Let me take care of breakfast, hm?”

You nod and move to the table, sitting where you can watch him, and peek out the window too. The car is gone, but the van is still there for the moment, sitting idly to the side. You consider making another run for it, but your aching limbs protest even the thought. There’s not enough fight in you, and you’re not even sure you want to fight John, not the way you do the other three. His only crime has been wanting you to stay, and being a bit overzealous about it. You can’t be mad at him for that, can you? It isn’t really his fault.

Well, it might be his fault, in a roundabout way. He trained them, taught them how to ruthlessly pursue an objective. It’s just not his fault they can’t keep it from coming home with them. That’s a clear failure of whoever does their mental health assessments.

You sip your coffee and watch John crack eggs into a pan. He keeps glancing at you, and his smile flickers on a little longer each time that he catches you looking back, until he doesn’t stop smiling, and just looks happy, glad to have you there, even if you’re just keeping a silent vigil on the other side of the room.

It's not like you have anywhere to go. It'll take days at least to feel like you haven't just been in a car crash, and days more to locate everything to pack it back up. So long as you don't have to share a bed with John again, you think you could live with this, for at least a week. It can't be that terrible, so long as the others leave you alone. You rather hope they just leave. If you asked, would John send them away?

"John," you say as he sets a plate with buttered toast and a couple of eggs on it in front of you, and sets a couple tablets of paracetamol beside your plate. "If I stay… Will they be staying too?"

"I'm going to have them leave this afternoon. That alright with you? We can go for a walk to the neighbours while they pack up, if you're up for it. Maybe dr-- Well, not drive." He sets his own plate down and sits next to you, handing you a knife and a fork. “Have to get that sorted out. But the neighbours-- Rob and Melissa-- Their dog just had puppies a few weeks ago. Do you like dogs?”

You nod, breaking the yolks of one of the eggs with a corner of toast. "My parents had a dog when I was growing up. Some kind of German shepherd cross. Best boy. His name was Rob Roy, because he was a wee outlaw. Mam found him digging in the trash and--" you stop and give John a baleful look. "Sorry. That was more than you were asking."

"No, that's the most you've said at once this whole time. I'd listen to you talk all day, doll. Don't ever apologize."

"Sorry I-- Oh, shit, sorry--" you press your fingers to your mouth, cutting yourself off. "Force of habit."

"I'd like to see you lose that one. You have nothin' to apologize for. Not one damn thing, and especially not talking. I think you have the prettiest voice I've ever heard."

You roll your eyes, but you can't help smiling. "You're just saying that."

He touches your arm lightly. "You don't know me too well yet, doll, but I never just say anything."

Yet hangs in the air, heavy and deliberate. He wants you to know him, wants you to stay with him, wants you to like him. Even if it makes no sense, the offer is tempting. It's been a long time since you've let someone get close— You've had the occasional fling, and the odd reunion with an ex that you’d stayed friends with, but grief is like a canyon you can't bear to cross. What if you love someone and you lose them, the way you lost your parents? How could you live with that all over again?

Still, there's something that feels like warm sunlight in his smile, and you can't help but incline toward him, slowly but surely reaching for the light. No one can live in the shade forever. There’s no nobility in suffering.

So you let yourself talk, at least a little. And he listens, hanging on to your words like they're precious, gazing at you with something unfurling in his expression that you can't name. You're almost afraid to try.

Image Credits: Banner

Dividers: 1 - 2 - 3 by @/Cafekitsune

[k6tzie]

oh my goodness ive had so many ideas running around my head about sub! & virgin! ghost and im so in love with your depictions of sub him.. just imagine he being so confused on why hes so painfully hard and he doesnt know what to do, he just wants his mommy help him out so desperately, and hes so confused why it feels so good when she wraps her hand around his length.. 🤭

ive never actually been an anon on your page before so hii

hii my lovely anon thank u for this request, read this and started gnawing on the bars of my enclosure this is so good YES! 💯 sub!virgin!ghost who never had or has time to rub one out, he doesn't know how to 'do it', per se, and he doubts it feels that good anyway - always cynical. he's far too busy to even think of anything like that and he doesn't wanna sit there and just rub it like he's stroking a dog or something. what if it doesn't feel good? what if his hands are dirty and he contracts some illness? he's always overthinking whilst he suffers another night of his painfully hard, fat cock straining his pants as he scrolls through your social media, seeing your pretty little smile and the clothes he's convinced you put on for him to see like minx. and here he is again, back at square one as he thrusts his hips around in his sheets, not daring to touch himself. and next thing he knows, you found out about all this and wanted to take care of your sweet boy. you are the only female figure in his life after all, why not help him? by this point, he's begging you to sit on his face, dominate him, ride him until he is an overstimulated, stupid mess. he's babbling how good your hand feels rubbing his lengthy cock whilst his eyes twitch in pleasure and his pretty brown eyes cross.

you don't let him cum, no not yet. you don't just wanna feel his warm cum drip down your fingers, what a waste. you wanna feel it drip down your belly, or the crease between your boobs - not just on your fingers. instead you climb atop his red leaky cock and sink down right onto it whilst your gummy walls stretch to accompany his girth. his eyes lock onto yours in pure adoration whilst his cock twitches and stretches inside your gummy walls. he loves being fucked by his mommy, a smart one you are. so experienced huh?

and each jagged, awkward thrust he pounds into you is followed by a weak; "am i being good for you? is this good love?" in need of reassurance. so when you cup his face, pouting and reassuring him, "yeah baby," his cum shoots right inside you :(, feels good having his mommy take care of him. but he feels so bad about coming without telling you yet, he was just so overstimulated with emotions he didn't know what to do or say, so he apologizes profusely and offers to get you off with his mouth until you're trembling against his tongue with your juices spread on his mouth, cheek and chin as he holds your waist longingly in hopes you'll say yes. (inspired by this video<3)

[beefcakekinard]

hey tomorrow

Buck/Tommy; Buck & Maddie; Maddie/Chimney | Rated T | 2327 words

[read on ao3]

Summary:

Two scenes continued, from Maddie's perspective: her conversation with Buck, and Tommy's arrival at the wedding.

Preview:

“So, tell me about the hot pilot?” Buck smiles and ducks his head. He looks bashful. It suits him. “Well, he’s-” Buck pauses, grins down at his coffee, fiddles with the lid. “He’s…?” Maddie prods. Buck laughs and looks back up at her. “He’s, uh, he’s kinda hunky.” She can’t help it – she jumps a little in delight. “Oh my god, Evan,” she says, then rounds the counter. Coffee in one hand, her brother’s arm in the other, she drags him over to the couch and pulls him down with her as she sits. “Okay, start from the beginning, and tell me everything.”

[liliactrickster]

HAPPY HALLOWEEN 🎃! from Miku and Pumpkaboo

[cassandracain52]

A canon compliant guide of Bruce Wayne’s officially adopted children

I noticed there has been some confusion about who all in the BatFam is actually legally adopted by Bruce Wayne so I thought I’d try and help clear some things up.

(Full disclosure you can of course headcanon whatever you like, I made this is strictly to help newer fans know what is actually canon💕)

Dick Grayson: Adopted

(Batman: Gotham Knights #17 and Batman #600)

Many fans argue over whether or not Dick is officially adopted, many saying it was never official and he is still just his ward.

Though he does admittedly usually spend the majority of his actual childhood as a ward, Bruce ends up officially adopting Dick as his son(as I have explained before here)in multiple timelines

Barbara Gordon: Not Adopted

(Batgirl and the Birds Of Prey Rebirth)

There was never a need for Barbara to be adopted because she still has a Dad. She is however still very much in the BatFamily and has trained under and with Bruce

Jason Todd: Adopted

(The New Titans (1988) #55 and Batman: A Lonely Place of Dying)

Now I couldn’t track down a comic where we actually get to see Bruce adopt Jason, but there are plenty of instances in which his adoption is referenced -including but not limited to these two- throughout several timelines and reboots

Cassandra Cain: Adopted

(Batgirl 2008 #6)

Now this one is a bit more debatable as aside from this one instance, Cass’ adoption is never really mentioned again even after the timeline gets rebooted. Still the general consensus is that Cassandra’s adoption is considered canon.

Tim Drake: Adopted

(Batman #654 and Red Robin #4)

Though Tim declines Bruce’s offer of being adopted at first, we get to see Bruce adopt Tim as his son about a year or so later. His adoption is also referenced across multiple reboots

Stephanie Brown: Not Adopted

(Batgirls #13, Robin (1993) #174, and Robin (1993) #126)

Now the main reason Stephanie is not and probably will not be adopted is because both her parents are alive. While her Dad is a villain and out of the picture, her mother is a nurse and fully capable of taking care of her.

Bruce does however train her during her brief stint as Robin and much like Barbara she is no less apart of the BatFamily, she’s just not in the Wayne Family

Duke Thomas: Not Adopted (technically)

(All Star Batman #1 and Batman & the Signal #3)

Now Duke is never officially adopted because technically his parents are alive just insane due to Joker’s toxin of which there is no cure. However Bruce does take him in and let him stay at the manor and it is heavily implied he becomes Duke’s foster parent so do with that what you will

Damian Wayne: Not Adopted/Biological child

(Batman and Robin (2011) #0)

Damian is Bruce’s one and only biological child -of the main canon- and therefore does not need to be adopted because you don’t need to adopt your own child

And that’s all of Bruce’s official and unofficial children in the main canon!💕🖤

[oatmealcrisp-freak]

"shipping saiki is aphobic because he's aroace!"

stares at you with my demiromantic asexual in a committed relationship eyes then looks at the camera like im in the office

[abowlofsourcream]

⏳💫Switch a Loop! ACT 5 Character Sheets!: The Main Party! 💫⏳

vv Design Notes! vv (FULL GAME SPOILERS!)

Change God(might need a nickname, don't want to be saying that all the time):

- Looks like Siffrin but something is off! Most faces are inspired by the Act 5 sprites!

- A bit softer than OG! Siffrin. More doughy and squishy looking!

- Cloak shaped like a bell, so cute!

- Circles in Circles! Both in their hat and eyepach! How many? It depends!

Mirabelle:

- The Bow is the Shiny Bow! It also puts her hair up in a cute bun!

- The cloak she wore is improvised into a cute little shop that wraps around her dress! Assisted by the broach! Also imagine that it pinches up the dress a little bit.

- The dress itself is slightly inspired off of The Head Housemaidan dress, but a bit more youthful!

- Her belt is tied with a little bow, cuz it's cute!

Isabeau:

- Took his sash fashioned into a bandana! Why? Cuz bandanas are cool, that's why!

- Isa has the drop earing! It may only be in one ear, maybe he'll find another one who knows! ;3

- Isa has a scar on the right side of the face due to a sadness sneaking up on him! Just to be reminded the loop before, heehee!

Odile:

- I took off her coat because I'm tired of drawing it. Also it look cooler when it's drawn over your waist!

- Instead of her high bun, she has a low bun! With a braid, cuz it's cute!

- Oh, and also she has a shoulderless top... You're welcome~!

Bonnie:

- Admittedly Bonnie has not changed a lot. Because I love Bonnie

- No hat for now! They lost it while going for the house! Don't worry they get a new one.

- Is now equipped with the Cast Iron Pan! Not only is it super heavy, it's infused with delicious spices! Perfect for snack time!

[spkyart]

I wonder what his favorite word is

[solsta23]

One of my biggest (and I’m sure most commonly shared) fantasies is being chased through the woods, specifically for me it’s being chased by someone who kidnapped me and is making me play some sick version of hide n seek.

If I manage to hide before time runs out, they’ll let me go, but if they find me before time runs out…(CW: blood, cnc)

“Found you!”, They’d announce, a sick satisfaction in their voice as if they’d found the last egg in the Easter hunt. My heart pounded deep in my chest, blood rushing in my ears as my chest moved rapidly up and down in erratic movements, the frosty night air biting at my lungs and making my eyes water from the sharp pain, the same pain radiating from the various cuts on my legs from the thick shrubbery surrounding us.

The pain kept me awake, made me oh so painfully aware of what was about to happen- looking up helplessly at the person who had been tormenting me for a week? weeks? I couldn’t remember, it honestly felt like months.

“Aww don’t look so upset baby, it’s not like you really stood a chance against me”, They told me, the faux pity in their voice continuing to make the burn under my skin worse as my eyes watered. “No reason to get yourself so worked up”.

They didn’t mean that, not one bit.

Seeing me worked up was their favorite sight (aside from me being under them), and I swore underneath their mask I could feel them smiling- knew they were smiling at me, smiling at the way I was shaking, my lack of proper clothing not helping (tank top and shorts was all they permitted me to wear, if anything at all) and how I was physically trying to bite back tears. I would never admit it out loud, but a part of my pride felt more hurt I lost than not escaping.

“Now cmon pup lets- oh dear”.

I didn’t give them time to finish, managing to pick up whatever strength I had left and getting up on my feet to run- one final attempt to get away.

‘Maybe I could lose them in the trees, they can’t know this place that well right? Just keep running don’t stop and don’t look back I can maybe slip through and find a road- there’s a road around here right? right?? Or-’

Before I knew it I was pinned to the ground, the dirt permeating my eyes and nose as I was shoved down, small rocks threatening to break through my skin and an all too familiar heavy weight on top of me.

“Now pup, what was that supposed to be?”, My tormentor laughed, pinning one of my arms to my back and straddling my back. “Seriously you made it what? 50 feet? I commend your effort- but seriously what made you think that was smart?”.

“G-get off of me!”, I screamed, wiggling like a fish on a line as struggled beneath them. My free hand clawed at the dirt, trying to grab onto anything to free myself, ignoring the stabbing pains that spreads up my arm like wildfire, flailing and kicking my legs out to throw them off- anything to be free and all of it for nought.

They scoffed, barely even breaking a sweat to hold me down, “Pup this is cute and all- but you know you already lost right?”.

“I don’t care! Just shut up and get the hell off of me you fucking psycho!”, I shrieked, hating how I could feel the tears being to stream down my face. I was so tired and frustrated I didn’t care what I said anymore.

“I hate you! I’m not your pup or your baby you sicko!”, I cursed, feeling lightheaded. In my anger filled rant I barely noticed that they hadn’t tried to interrupt me, hadn’t tried to say anything or even make a sound. Just let me keep ranting and hanging myself with my own tongue.

“I hate you! I hate you and this stupid game, you’ve done nothing but play out your sick fantasy with me you fucking loner freak- ah!”.

Before I knew it my face meet the dirt again, a sharp pain in the back of my skull as a hand threaded through my curls and forced me face down. At that moment I realized I messed up, my body giving up on me as I felt my kidnapper sigh, their grip on my pinned arm tightening to the point I felt it would break- making me whimper. My tears stained the dirt as I felt blood trickle in my mouth, my lip split from being forcefully shoved.

A silence passed by for a brief moment, the wind picking up as I felt my heart pound, and at that moment I all but froze as a voice cut through the air.

“…You really don’t know when to shut the fuck up do you, pup?”.

There is like…more to this so I’ll post a part 2 tmrw because this was getting too long guys 😞😞 but hope you like this (I’m just a feral lesbian who needs to be hunted down)

[puppyeared]

i feel like im not making any sense but does anyone else feel like there are stories that let u run with them and ones that spell everything out for you