#so i'll send it to haunt your dashes

[tjerra14]

Then I'll stay a little longer.

[silentgravesdontexist]

PART I: AU Dates & Kisses! w/ Ace, Luffy, and Zoro

As per stated in the title, this will be the first part of a short series I'll make which consists of characters going on a date with GN!Reader in a modern day setting. Here's the link to the masterlist to check out other ones!

CW: None. Pining, dates, kisses, and fluff.

Total Word Count: 2.5k

Portgas D. Ace

Amusement Park

Ace always had a major crush on you. It amazes him because the way the two of you met was purely accidental. He got into trouble and was chased around for it. Upon rounding on a corner, he crashes into you.

The people who were chasing after him are after you as well. Yelling that you were an accomplice. So, he grabbed your hand and made a dash for it.

Both of you are running around and laughing like idiots at his antics and attempts to get away from the people chasing him. You helped him get out of it one way or the other.

He found himself staring at you. Your windswept hair, cheeks flushed from the running, the smile on your lips, and your laugh. That laugh. Gods, he loved the sound of it.

You both got along easily. He found himself trailing after you with the lovesick look on his face. Ace would open the door for you, carry your things, listen to your stories with rapt attention, and anything to be in your company.

It took him months to ask you out. Give the guy a break, yeah? You were just so good. Kind, sweet, patient, and affectionate. There was something about you that always drew him in. And he loved your company. He was scared that you'd distance yourself if you rejected him.

He tried to be casual and confident while holding two tickets to the amusement park. Unfortunately, he still ended up stumbling over his words. Let out a loud whoop when you agreed.

Ace usually doesn't plan things out. But for your date with him? He had a whole plan and itinerary to makes sure it would be perfect. Made sure there was also breaktimes in between so you'd be able to enjoy the date better. Ofc, he did his best to make you smile and laugh at every chance he gets. Both of you went to every ride and place to visit. From the thrilling rides of rollercoaster to the haunted house. You were fairly reluctant to enter the haunted house but he saw that as an opportunity to tease to enter with him. Oh, you clung to him every time there was a jumpscare? He loved it. Even better if you let him wrap an arm around you and you lean into his touch. His heart swelled with pride. While navigating through the rides, he'd always find excuses to hold your hand. Weaving his fingers through yours and finding that your hand fit perfectly against his. Honestly, he just finds every excuse and reason to touch you. Helping you get down from rides, brushing that strand of hair away from your face, and placing a hand on the small of your back to guide you through the crowds. Finally, it was evening. You and Ace went to the final ride for the day-- The ferris wheel. You sat across from him, your gaze resting on the window to the sight. Soft and glistening lights of the rides and bustling stalls down below had a warm smile tugging onn your lips. His gaze was zeroed in on you. Ace drank in the sight of you. Captivated with you that he could gladly stare at you like that for hours on end. Gathering up the courage, he clears his throat to catch your attention before pulling out a small box from his pocket. "A gift," he says as he hands you the box. Inside was a bracelet. The intricate design had your eyes shining with your fingers brushing over the item. He gestures to the bracelet with a hand before slowly moving over to your side. Picking the item up, he wears it over your wrist. His finger brushing against your skin and sending a shiver down your spine. A shaky sigh leaves your lips when he continues to hold your wrist. His thumb brushing over your skin as he holds your gaze. Slowly, he raises a hand to cup your cheek. It makes his heart race when you lean into the palm of his hand. His adam's apple bobs as he swallows and decides to just go for it. Ace leans in closer as he brushes his thumb over your cheek. Eyes gazing into your own with an adoring look in them. "Is this alright?" He asks, his lips inches away from yours. When you mutter out an agreement, he could swear that his heart bursted from its seams in joy. The kiss is tender yet there's an underlying passion to it. As though he wills you to understand the depth of his feelings for you from that kiss alone. Ace finds himself chasing after your lips when you pull away. Pressing chaste kisses against them that had you giggling. It made you indulge him a bit, letting him wrap an arm over your waist and pulling you close. Both of you only stopped when someone cleared their throat. It was the conductor, discreetly reminding the two of you that the ride had already ended. Both of you are blushing from embarrassment as you usher outside. Meeting each other's gaze as you leave the ride to let out a laugh. Teasing each other as you walk through the crowds hand in hand.

Monkey D. Luffy

Fireworks Festival

You two are practically best of friends. He adores you because you always put up with him no matter what trouble he cooks up. Even when he's being loud and clingy— you're always so patient with him.

Luffy loved that he could have fun with you but you'd still keep him in line so he won't get in trouble. And even when he did, you'd help him out with a smile and laugh.Though you did scold him whenever he gets injured. You were gentle while tending to his wounds that it made it hard for him mind the scolding.

Well, sure, did he feel a bit sulky when you hung out with other people? Yes. He wanted you to hang out with him. Truthfully, you were the one with the biggest crush on him. But the guy seemed absolutely dense. Which frustrated you even more. You flirted with him? He doesn't get it. It goes over his head.

Sure, Luffy may have had feelings for you but he always brushed them off as just platonic. He always felt butterflies when you were around— told you that you were fun to be around with bc of it. Made him feel giddy.

Usually, whenever he invited you to go somewhere, you'd have other people come along and it'd become a group hangout. So, you didn't really think much of his invite.

The festival was packed with so many people. Stalls lining up by the pathways and lanterns hanging above. Crowds of people enjoying the festival before the fireworks show. You're waiting by a lamp post for Luffy. And strangely enough, you were the only one there. You were expecting the others to be there already since it was almost time. Your ears perk when he calls your name, eyes immediately track the origin of the voice. You can feel your heart skip a beat at the sight of him in a kimono with that charming smile of his plastered over his face. He walks up to you, and you could swear his eyes shined a little brighter at the sight of you. "Uh...so— where are the others?" You ask shyly as you turn to him. Gaze flickering around to see the supposed company for the festival. "Are they late or is the meeting place different?" Your brows furrow in slight confusion and curiosity. "What are you talking about? It's just us." He says, and you could feel that your heart combusted on the spot. His gaze flickere over your form and his smile becomes a bit more affectionate. "You look great in that kimono!" With that casual compliment, he takes your hand and leads you to the crowded street to enjoy the festival. "C'mon! Let's go have fun!" And fun did the two of you have. Enjoying the games and stalls. Him gobbling down and surprisingly sharing some of his snacks with you. He even got you a plushie that caught your eye in a shooting range (almost picked a fight with the stall owner for cheating). Maybe, just maybe you were overthinking it, but he seemed much closer than usual. Your shoulders brushing often as you stood beside each other on the stalls. You almost got lost once. So, he holds your hand while you guys found a nice secluded spot to enjoy the fireworks. Your eyes are glued to the scene before you. Splashes of colors in the inky sky. The loud booms as it erupts into various shapes and sizes. It takes your breath away immediately. "Luffy, the fireworks—" You turn to face Luffy, wanting to see what his reaction was. But you see, he was already looking at you. Has been ever since the fireworks started. There's that rare serious expression on his face. It has your heart pounding against your chest. Almost as loud as the fireworks in the background. He whispers your name, and it sends a shiver down your spine. "I feel weird." Luffy admits almost silently. He barely even notices that he's leaning closer to you. "It's like my heart is racing and won't stop." He continues. There was just something about you that he found captivating. "I..." With that, you lean closer to him. You ask him what he means by that. If he feels butterflies in his stomach. If his heart is racing his chest. If he wants you close to him. He says yes. Eyes flickering down to your lips for a moment. You take a leap of faith. Lips pressing against his in a hesitant kiss. His eyes widen in surprise. For a moment, you're regretting it when he stays still. You assumed and fucked up. Now, he's gonna think you're weird and hate you. But as you're about to pull away, he returns the kiss. Relief washes over you at his reciprocation. The moment you pull away shyly, cheeks flushed as you look for his reaction— he has that bright grin on his face as he lets out a laugh. It wasn't the mocking kind. It was that good natured laugh that seemed so infectious it made you smile a bit. "I think I like you." Luffy admits unabashedly. With a chuckle, he wraps his arms around you to capture your lips in another kiss.

Roronoa Zoro

Aquarium

Both of you are infuriatingly cute. The kind where everyone knows you guys like each other but neither of you are making a move. You're too scared he'll reject you and make things awkward. He's too hesitant and unsure of his own feelings to truly admit it even to himself.

You two met when he got lost on a tournament ground for a competition. Time was ticking, and he was almost late for his match. And you guided him back to where his competition was. Even cheered him on a bit.

Slowburn. The longing in each other's eyes when the other isn't watching. Lingering touches that last a little longer than necessary. Gods, he loves the way you don't confuse his silence as him not caring. It felt like you truly understood and saw him.

The guy loved listening to you talk. There was something about your voice that soothed him. Found it mesmerizing. It made him want to lean in a just—

He blinks as he snaps out of it. Without realizing it, he was already leaning in towards you with his hand mid-air. And just like that, he acts like he wasn't about to kiss you.

Will grumble about something getting stuck in your hair and brushing it away— calling you a klutz all the while. He will pull back and motion you to go back to what you were talking about.

Eventually, something in him caves in (he saw someone confess to you— well, you rejected them but still). He casually hands you a ticket to the aquarium and sets the date. Despite him trying to be calm, you can see the blush on his cheeks.

On the day of the date? With you looking so good in your outfit? He couldn't keep his eyes off you. No matter the animals or sights in front of him, his attention was solely on you.

He found himself smiling more than usual— which isn't a lot but you noticed those upward tugs of his lips no matter how small they were. It made you feel warm that he could smile like that in your presence.

There was something so enchanting about it. The way aquatics hues glow against your skin. How your face lights up when you spot your favorite animals. When you giggled at the petting zoo. Damn, he couldn't get enough of you.

Your eyes shine with that warm glow in them as you look at the shark, booping its nose against the glass where your hand was. A soft giggle leaves your lips and he immediately melts at the sight. He couldn't take his eyes off you even if he wanted to— not that he even wanted to anyways. "Havin' fun?" He asks, raising a hand to brush a strand of your hair from your face. Calloused fingers linger there for a moment before his gaze meets yours. There's a silent intensity to them. "Y-Yeah..." You let out, flustered by the tension lingering in the air. You notice it. The way his gaze flickers down to your lips for a moment and it has your cheeks heating up. A shaky sigh leaves you, and a sudden rush of confidence fills him. Zoro's hand moves under your chin to guide you to fully face him. You visibly swallow at his touch. Your heart racing in your chest as his hand slowly comes up to cup your cheek. His thumb brushes against your skin as drinks in your every reaction. He leans in. Close enough to press his forehead against yours. Gods, something in him just knew it felt so right to be close to you like this. His eyes shut closed as he brushes his nose against yours. Pride wells up inside of him at the shiver that goes through you. Another hand reaches out, thumb brushing over the outline of your lips as he indulges the feel of your breath against his. With an agonizing slowness, he closes the distance between you. To make sure to give you enough chance to pull away if you wanted to (not that you would). It was soft and chaste. Over before you even realize it. He pulls away to see if there's regret in your eyes. When he finds none, he leans in to kiss you again. He pours out his emotions into it. All the longing he felt for you. Pulling you closer with an arm around your waist while you melt into the kiss. When he pulls away from the kiss, he just looks at you in awe. As if to engrave the sight of you in his mind until he'd see it even his eyes were closed. Gods, he'd stay like that forever if he could.

[thatonebirdwrites]

Embers

AO3 Link (Continuation from Dress)

Kara sights her adversary on the wall just above one of the displays for artifacts from Indigenous tribes of North America. Despite the red cloak and ridiculously large hat, Kara knows it's Lena hanging there. Lena has carefully cut a hole in the glass enclosure, somehow turned off the alarm, and has the artifact in her gloved hand.

"Halt," Kara calls. She whips out her stun gun. "Don't make me shoot."

Lena raises a beautifully sculpted eyebrow. "Ah, I wondered when my favorite agent would arrive. Quite a dashing appearance I would say."

Kara tries not to preen at the compliment. She wears a suit and tie, mostly to blend in with the gala on the other side of the museum. Her team had been on high alert due to yet another invitation by LKW. Her boss, Alex, had been certain it was the jewels LKW sought, but Kara knows better.

Lena's past thefts had been highly specific cultural items from various Indigenous tribes throughout the world. Despite several of Kara's best contacts scouring the black market discreetly and preparing to buy any of the stolen artifacts, nothing Lena steals ever shows up in the auctions. Nor in private sales, at least the ones Kara's friends Nia and J'onn can access.

So where does Lena take them? It's haunted Kara for quite awhile.

"Why that artifact?" Kara asks. "It's just an old firestarter. Best you can get with that is embers."

Lena tucks the artifact into a pocket in the interior of her cloak. "Come now, agent, surely you have more imagination than that?" She swings to the next display. This one holds a set of fabrics, many intricately woven with dyed strands. She carefully cuts another circle and the embers of her torch sends sparks across the top of the glass.

"Are you seriously just going to continue?" Kara can't believe it. "I'm literally pointing a gun at you."

"You won't shoot it." Lena smiles and removes the circle with a flick of her finger. It flips over onto the other half of the glass top. "You never do. So instead of that tiresome posturing, play a game with me." She grins and reaches in to nab the next artifact. "Guess why I take these."

Kara frowns. "Toying with me now?"

"Oh I know you love it," Lena teases. She winks. "And I bet our last kiss has haunted your dreams."

Kara's face reddens. She will never admit it, but that kiss does indeed haunt her dreams and waking moments. In fact, she's half-thinking of it right now. Both of them dangling by rope as they make out-- "Dammit, stop that." Her face turns a darker shade of red when she realizes she said it out loud.

Lena laughs, and it's a gorgeous ripple of gold that sparks embers deep in Kara's gut. God, she wants to hear that laugh again and again.

"So the truth has been revealed." She tugs her bag to her side and carefully tucks the fabrics into it. "Now, our game? Or are you too flustered to think?" Another wink has Kara wishing she'd stuck to the other side of the gala.

Her gun lowers, while she struggles to regain an upper hand. "You poisoned me with that kiss." As much as it stings that the kiss had been merely to distract, Kara finds herself far more forgiving of Lena than she ought to be.

"Hardly," Lena scoffs. "My lipstick contained a trace amount of a phenylpropanoid derived from nutmeg, which can be hallucinogenic at certain doses, but it also has antimicrobial and anti-inflammatory properties. It's used in medicinal tonics in Southern Asia." She swings to the last display case in this exhibit. "I believe it important to the health of my favorite agent to occasionally loosen you up."

That's followed up with a wink.

Which only makes Kara want to kiss her even more.

"Well, I certainly did let loose," Kara says, her cheeks likely burning so red that she might as well be on fire. How does Lena stoke her so creepily well? Kara fights a spell of arousal after every conversation they share. It's maddening.

"Fine, I'll play your game. But after, I'm bringing you in. You're in a very disadvantageous position, Ms. Walsh, hanging from the ceiling."

"Am I? Oh, whatever shall I do?" Lena feigns a dramatic faint with one hand to her forehead. "My big bad agent will surely have to rescue me from this dreadful predicament."

Kara's face burns. "Big bad agent? Come now, I'm not that big."

"Tell that to your deltoids and biceps," Lena shoots back.

Which is a valid point. Kara does work out enough to have decently defined muscles, but she's not that beefy, is she? She flexes one arm, and to her amusement, Lena stares at her, her cutting momentarily distracted. The flame sizzles in the air above the glass.

"Oh, a muscle lover?" Kara teased. She flexes her other arm, and Lena bites her lip and quickly looks down at her torch.

The sparks glint blue as she completes her circular cut. "You have two guesses. I will reply with the truth for one guess and a lie for the other."

"One truth and one lie?" Kara puts her hands on her hips. "You don't make it easy, do you?"

Lena chuckles and slides the cut glass to one side. "And miss out on your famous detective skills? I think not. Dazzle me, agent."

She reaches inside to take out a clay vessel that has the shape of a frog with a tall snout sticking out of its back. To Kara's surprise, Lena takes her time gently wrapping the vessel in a massive amount of cloth from her bag.

"The items you steal never show up on the black market, so either someone commissions you to steal them or you have private dealers to avoid detection." It's been Kara's best guess for awhile now.

Lena raises an eyebrow. "Interesting guess. What evidence do you have that I'm selling them at all?"

Kara frowns. "It's the typical reason for theft. Usually those who frequent museums and university antique libraries like you sell on the black market or were commissioned by a wealthy collector."

"Wealthy." Lena laughs, but it's different than the whimsical laugh earlier. This one is darker, more dangerous, and her green eyes glint with an intensity that leaves Kara feeling incredibly parched. "Indeed, I expected a bit more imagination, Kara."

It's the first time Lena used Kara's first name only, and her intense gaze has Kara squirming.

She feels suddenly inadequate, simply because it never occurred to her that Lena might not be selling the artifacts at all. "The other possibility is you seek to gather an illegal collection for your own amusement."

Lena sighs, and that alone fills Kara with shame, as if she'd failed a test she hadn't known she was taking. "Kara, look at what I'm holding." She holds up the heavily wrapped vessel. "This is an extremely rare frog vessel from the Anasazi tribe in Southern United States. Descendants of the Anasazi live in reservations, forced off their lands, and often considered an extinct tribe."

"Okay, so you know your history, but why steal it?" Kara asks.

"Let me ask you this," Lena says, her voice suddenly serious. "If your agency raided an illegal black market auction that had thousands of stolen artifacts, what would be the fate of those artifacts?"

Kara frowns. "Hey, I thought I was the one to ask questions here."

"Answer the question, agent." The sharpness in Lena's voice takes Kara by surprise. This doesn't feel much like a game anymore.

"We put them in evidence bags and that goes to the department that handles artifact storage and analysis..." she trails off, her mind spinning at the implications.

"And once that department analyzes them, where do they go?"

"Often to museums..." A sick feeling curls through Kara's stomach.

"And where are we currently?"

"A museum in San Francisco..." Kara meets Lena's gaze, and for the first time, doubt curdles through her. "You're not taking these to sell them, are you? You're taking them to return them."

Lena smiles and tucks the frog vessel into her pack. "Perhaps you have a brain after all."

"But why do this? If you're caught, no one is going to care that you are returning cultural artifacts to their respective tribes." Kara frowns and crosses her arms. "The risk feels too high for the relative value--"

Lena loosens the carabiner on her rope and drops to the ground in front of Kara. The movement startles her, and Kara breaks off midsentence.

Tenderly, Lena reaches out to touch Kara's face, her glove warm. "And if I ever let love go, / because the hatred and the whisperings / of a phantom dictate I obey," Lena whispers, her eyes searching Kara's as if Kara herself held the artifacts she sought. She leans closer, her breath warm against Kara's skin.

Her words ignite a fire so deep, that Kara feels like she's burning from the inside out. Her right hand disobeys her and lightly touches Lena's waist.

"... then let love freeze me out," Lena continues, "I must, I must become a menace to my enemies."

The last line hits Kara like punch to her gut. "That's by June Jordan," she says, stunned. "My Aunt Astra loved that poem."

"Astra El, a brilliant strategist and freedom fighter in the Kaznia war against Russia." Lena's heterochromatic eyes pierced Kara's like daggers. "A war they lost brutally, their country pillaged and left in severe poverty. A great many refugees lay scattered throughout Western Nations."

"How do you know all that?" Kara says, her eyes wide. She's never talked about her past before with anyone. Not even Alex, Nia, or J'onn. Her and Kal-el survived only because Aunt Astra smuggled them out when Kara was ten years old and Kal only three.

"I seek what is lost and restore it." An answer that tells Kara next to nothing. Lena smiles, sadly, her thumb rubbing against Kara's cheek. "We must become a menace to our enemies, Kara."

Kara takes in a sharp breath. Her hand moves to her belt. "I should handcuff you right now and drag you in."

Lena steps back and holds out her wrists. "Then do it."

Kara's hands shake as she pulls out the bulky handcuffs. They dangle from her right hand, but she can't bring herself to do it. Lena's words, the poetry, and most of all knowledge of Kara's beloved Aunt? Too many questions dance in her head.

Lena drops her hands to her side with a smile. "I thought so." She leans in close and kisses Kara's cheek. "Now as much as I enjoyed our chat, I really must be going."

Kara knows this is her last chance. Sure, maybe she can't bring herself to handcuff Lena Kieran Walsh, but she can flip an alarm by hitting the signal on her walkie-talkie. The rest of the agents will flood the room and secure their adversary finally. Kara will be heralded a hero instead of yelled at for failing yet again.

But their conversation unnerves her so much that Kara does nothing.

Instead, she watches as Lena climbs up the wall, walking as if it's a floor, her hands on the rope. At the ceiling, she proceeds to push a tile to one side. Darkness looms in the resulting hole.

Lena glances down at her with a sad smile, and her right eye glints a bit more blue than the other. "There's a cozy, Vietnamese restaurant in San Diego that has an excellent view of the Pacific Ocean. I hear the potstickers are to die for."

"Oh?" Kara wonders why Lena is telling her this.

"Think about it, Kara," Lena says softly, and her gaze holds Kara's with an intimacy that takes her breath away. Framed by the ceiling lights around her escape hatch, Lena looks almost like an ethereal angel. "Don't hush," she recites a poem that tickles Kara's memory, but not enough to identify it, "don't throw away, / the most persistent truth, / as our hard-headed brethren / sometimes do."

Kara raises her hand in response, but words fail to form on her lips. With one last lingering glance, Lena slips into the ceiling and the tile is replaced as if she'd never been there.

A silence descends on the room, and a heaviness wraps around Kara's heart.

She looks up at the cameras in the room, and wonders what they captured. Turning, she walks back the way she came, but instead of joining the gala again, she turns toward the security office.

Inside, she finds two men, one of them half-asleep, and the other typing into a computer. They look up at her entrance.

"Agent Kara Zorel of Interpol," she says and flashes her badge. "May I review your footage for the last fifteen minutes?"

"Don't see why not." The man at the computer gestures to the wall of screens. He taps out a command, and Kara watches each of them carefully.

But none show her and Lena talking. The room Lena had burglarized looks as if no one had stepped in it for ages.

Which means Lena either works with someone, who aids in altering security footage, or she set this up days in advance to disguise her tracks. It makes sense considering how useless past security footage always proved to be. The drones they set to fly the perimeter sometimes catches glimpses of her get-away vehicle, but each one turns into a dead-end, the name on the rental a nonexistent person.

"Thank you. My superior may be by again to review further footage." Kara nods to the men and exits back toward the gala. She sights several agents spread out discreetly throughout the large ballroom, and her boss, Alex, lingers near the stage, where the artifact sits. The one her team had been certain was LKW's target.

She wonders what Aunt Astra would think of her working for Interpol. Kara thought she did this in her Aunt's honor, but Lena's words darken her thoughts and litter them with a gnawing doubt.

Alex corners her only five minutes later at the drink table. "And where have you been for the last twenty minutes?"

Kara sighs. "Bathroom and a check with the security feeds." This is technically the truth since she did go to the bathroom after the visit with security, but it leaves her with a mounting guilt and confusion.

Why is she protecting Lena Kieran Walsh? Sure, she enjoys their conversations, the flirting, and definitely that kiss, but she's a thief, and a dangerous one at that. What does she owe Lena? And yet, she'd somehow known of her Aunt, and spoken of her with reverence. Why?

"And you've seen nothing?" Alex searches Kara's face as if trying to read her mind. "No parting diatribes with our darling thief?" A hint of sarcasm filters into Alex's tone.

"No, nothing." Kara picks up a glass of water and drinks it, her eyes on the stage, where a band plays and the newest piece for the museum sits on display. Some sort of silver calf with carved symbols that mean nothing to Kara.

But they likely meant something to the culture from which that calf came.

"I think this might have been a diversion," she says. "Send us here while she goes elsewhere."

"I hope not, but I'll put in feelers for any suspicious activity within the region." Alex places a hand on Kara's shoulder. "I know this case has been hard for you. Just remember, as charming as Ms. Walsh is, she's also a dangerous fugitive. We must bring her to justice."

Kara nods and manages a smile. She drinks her water instead of replying. Is what she's doing justice?

Or is Lena Kieran Walsh's thefts a truer justice?

An unanswerable question.

Disturbed, she finds a quiet corner to watch the gala attendees. But her attention lays scattered like the petals on the red carpet stage.

Lena's last worlds pulse in her head, and she can't help herself. Kara performs a search on her phone for a specific restaurant in San Diego that serves potstickers.

When the theft is discovered two hours later, she aids the others in the investigation, but Lena Kieran Walsh, as usual, left no fingerprints, and no clues other than the three precisely cut holes in the glass enclosures.

[str4wb3rrys1mp]

HII! How are are :D I see your a new writer, and I wanted to send a request to you and it hopefully won’t be to hard to do, so since you write for creepypasta….

May I request Homicidal Liu, Jeff The Killer, Brain/Hoodie and Jane The Killer with a Male!S/O who has a Cutthroat Personality from Akudama Drive?

I hope that’s fine with you ^^ thank you so much! Have a wonderful day :D

Omg yes ofc I havnt seen this one but I'll have to watch it!! But I cant write hoodie for shii srry :(( Also I'm good hry?

JANE THE KILLER

Jane admired your childlike wonder, but was a bit jealous of it at the same time.

One night she had broken into your house, initially thinking she'd be in and out like usual.

So imagine her surprise when cute little you not only held your ground but managed to flip her onto her back, making a loud thud on the ground.

Tbh baffled for like five seconds.

After a bit more back and fourth you both hear a knock at your room door, making you and Jane freeze.

Your roommate called your name and asked what the hell you were doing at 2:37 in the morning.

Jane, luckily gave you some time to answer him, before shooting you a grin and dashing to and out of your second story window.

A bit concerned for her, you hurried to your window, but Jane was nowhere to be seen. JEFF THE KILLER

Somehow your friends had convinced you to go into the creepy haunted woods behind your backyard.

When Jeff first say you mf prolly went feral.

Like,, drooling, the whole nine yards feral. 💀

But when your group actually saw him, he was stoic, the most you'd get was him staring at you from the back of the room.

And than you managed to throw hands with THE PROXIES?? managing to break one of BEN's console cords and strangled Masky for nearly five seconds??

Now he's just plane impressed, you don't look the type, in your pastel outfit with a white and pink sailor hat atop your head, but Jeff knows that looks can deceive.

Somehow mans managed to pull you into another room away from the chaos, and proceeds to ask you to "Show him your strength"

so naturally you think,, oKAY maybe he wants me to punch the wall?? idk man

BUT THEN this GROWN ASS man holds out his hand, beckoning for you to grab it, so you do and mf sticks his thumb up and challenges you to a thumb war

so after you kick Jeff's shit in and beat him, he agrees to show you out of the mansion.

He helps you load your bloody and bruised friends into the car that you took to get here, assuring you they weren't dead, they just needed immediate medical attention.

right before you got into your car, Jeff turns you around and asks a question.

"Can I get ya number prettyboy?" HOMICIDAL LIU

Liu had known you since 4th grade, so you didn't necessarily scare him.

most of the time

You've always been like this, but you were really cool! He swears! Just give it some time.

However what does freak Liu out, is when someone makes a comment or a joke that you don't like, because you go deadly silent.

If looks could kill man, these mfs would be long gone.

AND THEN you can just go back to laughing and looking so happy like you didn't just try to murder someone with a glare???

Also freaky, in his humble opinion.

[maul-of-shame]

J-2 for "Dark Delights" !!!

J-2 for the Monster Enjoyers' Discord Server!! I'm working on it, setting everything up to make sure our little community is perfect to welcome you peeps!

So before you sink your fangs (or claws) into it, just a like sneak peak at what will be waiting for you (*puts on the spirit Halloween Count Dracula costume*)

Are you drawn to the eerie, the seductive, the beautifully dark?

Does your soul thrive on stories of monsters, vampires, haunted professors, and unholy love affairs?

Whether you crave the sensual thrill of gothic erotica, love crafting spooky illustrations, or just want a place to chat with fellow fiends about your favorite dark movies or lore, Dark Delights is your new (haunted) home!!!

This is a +18 community—for adults only—where we embrace the otherworldly, the erotic, and the deliciously strange. It's just me as your humble host and mod (for now), keeping things chill and intimate, with a heavy dash of spooky charm!!🌙

🔮 What to Expect in Dark Delights:

🖤 Creative Havens: Channels for you to share and discuss your art, writing, OCs, and ideas. Whether it's vampires, werewolves, fauns, or dark academia professors, siresn, harpies, mermaids, ghosts, and more; no spooky muse is left behind.

🧛🏻‍♀️ Erotica & Sensuality: Dive into discussions and share your favorite (or your own) erotic and sensual tales. Expect channels for writing prompts, ideas, and art that explore the wildest, darkest corners of desire.

🎥 Horror Chit-Chat: Whether you're obsessed with classic horror or love discovering the latest bone-chilling releases, there's always a cozy corner for a deep dive into the blood-curdling, scream-inducing world of horror films, video games, books, series and more!

🖋️ Recommendations & Discussions: Books, movies, podcasts, art—bring your spooky favorites, and get inspired by others. The creepier, the better.

🌕 Immersive Themes: With channels themed around monsters, horror, dark academia, and the supernatural, you'll always have a place to lose yourself in conversations about the mysterious and macabre.

🕯️ The Vibe? We’re all about celebrating individuality, creativity, and exploration. You know what they say: don’t yuck someone’s yum!

Be kind, be respectful, and be open-minded. This is a safe space where your imagination can run wild, free from judgment. And yes, we’re all about boundaries!

So while we explore darker, kinkier sides of storytelling and art, we respect trigger warnings and will have dedicated channels for content with more intense themes!

I still have to finish setting up the server, that's why it's J-2; BUT as soon as this darling is up and running, I'll be updating you people with news!!!

NB: If you're already interested, feel free to follow or react to this post so I can add you to my waiting list and send you a dm as soon as the server is up!!!🖤🖤🖤

[silvfyre-writings]

Break your arm? I'll take care of you (BSD Fanfic)

Hiiiiii, I bring a fic of broken bones and soft fluff for Ranpo's b'day.

Don't have all that much to say really, other than enjoy!!! And that this was a collaboration with Saapphirx and that they have some art for this fic :D

So enjoy! And leave a kudos and/or comment if you enjoyed!!!

[14:09]

O. Dazai: There’s been an accident. Ranpo’s in the hospital.

That was the text that Edgar received, and the one that he had nearly missed because he’d been so lost in his writing that he hadn’t heard his phone buzz at first; it was only because Karl nudged the device towards him that he realized he hadn’t imagined the sound and reached over to look at it, and his heart dropped right into his stomach as he read. He read the message once, twice, five times, before he realized that he needed to actually respond. He needed to know if Ranpo was alright—he needed to know how hurt he was to know whether or not he should either start panicking or start planning a funeral.

[14:12]

E. Poe: What happened?

It only took a few minutes for the response to come through.

[14:15]

O. Dazai: The case we were working on went wrong, the guy we were after got a hold of Ranpo and he got hurt.

E. Poe: How hurt?

E. Poe: Dazai? How hurt??

Before Edgar could interrogate Dazai more as to Ranpo’s condition, the man texted him an address; the hospital that they must’ve been at, and Edgar was quick to get ready, replacing his sleepwear with clothes faster than he had ever dressed himself before—it was nothing fancy, just a hoodie and some worn sweatpants, because now was not the time to get dressed up. He had to get to the hospital, and to Ranpo, and see his partner. His heart pounded in his chest as his mind conjured up all kinds of scenarios of what he would find when he got there.

Ranpo beaten black and blue… Ranpo on life support… or worse.

Ranpo dead.

Edgar shook that idea from his head and tried to think positively. Because if Ranpo were dead, then Dazai would’ve called or come to speak to him himself rather than send a text. And if not Dazai, then one of Ranpo’s other co-workers would’ve come. And if Dazai was texting instead of calling, then that meant that Ranpo was just injured; he wasn’t close to death, nor would he be on life support, he would just be injured. It was just a matter of how injured that had Edgar so stressed because Ranpo and injuries were as commonplace as him catching a summer cold.

In other words, it happened a lot.

He still remembered the last time he’d been summoned to the hospital because Ranpo had been injured whilst working; because his love was being stupid, playing some sort of game with his coworkers where they couldn’t touch the floor that had resulted in him slipping and cracking his head open on a desk. And the time before that had been because Ranpo had tripped down the stairs chasing a criminal, somehow managing to apprehend the criminal, but also spraining his ankle. And then there was the Caffeine Incident, the time he and Dazai had both gotten their hands stuck in a pipe—to this day, Edgar still didn’t know the whole story—and not to mention when Ranpo had gotten himself locked in a closet for the long weekend and hadn’t been found until his co-workers returned the following Tuesday; an incident that continued to haunt Edgar to this day, because he hadn’t been in town when it had happened.

So yes, he was worried, very, very worried, but he actively tried to stop worrying as he dashed out the door, making sure that Karl had plenty of water and food just in case he didn’t make it back that night. There was no point in worrying until he knew for certain what Ranpo’s condition was because worrying would only lead to him panicking and that wasn’t going to help anyone—that much was certain. If only because it had happened before.

Because there was nothing like getting to the hospital to see how your partner was doing, only to have a panic attack upon arrival and needing to be walked through breathing exercises by said partner’s co-workers.

Good times.

So rather than take the trains, which would’ve taken longer and most definitely caused Edgar to panic, he elected to take a taxi instead; faster, and he could stare at his phone whilst the driver did his job, staring at the screen and desperately hoping for any kind of update. But Dazai was as cryptic as he was weird, so Edgar didn’t hold much hope in receiving an update from him. Again, something he’d gotten to over the years of dating Ranpo and having to deal with his and Dazai’s very strange friendship.

Bzzt, bzzt.

Edgar’s eyes flew down to his phone the moment it vibrated in his hands, and if he’d been standing, he would’ve collapsed from utter relief because there it was, the update he’d been praying for.

[14:29]

Y. Fukuzawa: As Dazai most certainly neglected to inform you; Ranpo is in stable condition. He’s currently in surgery, but he is stable. I will meet you outside and brief you when you arrive.

Immediately, Edgar promised to send Ranpo’s boss a gift basket of some sort for knowing exactly what his employees were like and taking the liberty to update Edgar himself instead of leaving him to worry endlessly. Stable… he’s stable at least, that’s good. Surgery, not so good, but stable means he’ll be fine. Edgar relaxed into the leather seat of the taxi, letting out all his stress in one, singular breath as he tilted his head back and closed his eyes, just relieved that Ranpo wasn’t dying. He focused on that one word; stable, that one, singular word, and repeated it to himself, quietly under his breath at first, before letting his voice fade and just letting the word repeat over and over in his mind.

He continued to repeat it for the rest of the trip.

Fukuzawa Yukichi was a terrifying and intimidating man, one that Edgar only spoke to whenever he came over for his monthly dinner with Ranpo, and even then they only ever exchanged a few polite sentences with each other, although he had gotten better over the years—in fact, he’d managed to hold an entire conversation with Fukuzawa last time, something that he was pretty proud of. But whilst Edgar was normally scared of Ranpo’s boss, this time he was a welcome sight, and the moment that Edgar noticed Fukuzawa standing outside, he made a beeline towards the man, words already forming on his lips.

“Fukuzawa—” Edgar barely started to speak before Fukuzawa raised his hand.

“I have not received an update since the one I gave you just before.” Fukuzawa said before he turned on his heel, and after placing a hand on Edgar’s back, guided him towards the entrance.

“What happened?” Edgar asked as they passed the doors, shivering as the cool air and sterile smells washed over him. He hated hospitals.

“The suspect that Dazai and Ranpo were after took off, and they chased him.” Fukuzawa began to explain. “They split up to try and corner him, only the suspect was expecting them to do that, and attacked Ranpo when the opportunity arose. Ranpo fought back, and the two of them fell down a flight of stairs as a result.”

Edgar sucked in a breath as he listened. He always knew Ranpo’s job was dangerous, had heard far too many stories of near misses to believe otherwise. There’d been far too many times where Ranpo had come home from work with a haunted look in his eyes because whatever criminal he’d been chasing at the time had died, or one of his co-workers had been killed in the line of duty. But seldom had Ranpo been at the end of those events, and that was what was stressing Edgar out. Because Ranpo, while fit and more than capable of holding his own if needed, was so small and scrawny compared to his co-workers, and most criminals liked to try and take advantage of that.

They always failed, because Ranpo wasn’t stupid and loved using his size to his advantage, much to the chagrin of his co-workers—Ranpo had received so many lectures from Fukuzawa about self-preservation that even Edgar knew them all by heart at this point.

“How—how hurt is he?” Edgar asked weakly, just barely managing to get the words out. His hands were starting to shake as his mind conjured up several kinds of injuries, almost forgetting that Ranpo was stable as panic threatened to overwhelm him.

Fukuzawa’s hand moved from Edgar’s back to his shoulder, squeezing it reassuringly. “A broken arm, that’s all. It’s a bad break—hence the surgery—so he’ll be off work for a while—”

“But it’s just a broken arm?” Edgar said before realizing that he’d interrupted Fukuzawa. “Ah, sorry! I didn’t mean to interrupt you!”

There was another squeeze to his shoulder before the hand fell away. “It’s okay. I understand that you are worried about Ranpo. Rest assured; it is just a broken arm. We just have to be patient and wait.”

Edgar could’ve collapsed with relief right then and there, but he forced himself to keep walking, following behind Fukuzawa as the man led him towards the waiting room. Immediately he spotted Dazai, sitting on one of the chairs with his head on his hands as he glared at the wall. One leg was bouncing up and down, no doubt from the stress of what had happened. If there was one thing Dazai took pride in, it was his ability to predict another person’s actions; it was what made him a good detective in the first place, and Edgar knew he was just beating himself up over what had happened to Ranpo, running over the hundreds of other plans he could’ve used to prevent his work partner from being injured in the first place.

Slowly he walked over and took a seat in the empty chair next to Dazai. He didn’t say anything, but Dazai’s leg stopped moving anyway, and his eyes slid over towards him.

It didn’t take long for Dazai to break the silence. “He got the guy.”

“P—pardon?”

Dazai turned to look at him. “Ranpo; he got the guy. Took a steel bat to the arm, and just held on as they went down the stairs together. By the time I got there, Ranpo was slapping handcuffs onto him with only one arm.”

Oh my god. Edgar buried his face into his hands, because it was just like Ranpo to focus on arresting a criminal instead of himself. “Fukuzawa said it was a bad break…”

“Oh yeah.” Dazai nodded. “The worst break I’ve seen and that’s saying something. But you’ll see what I mean when he comes out of surgery.”

“Or you could just tell me…?” Really, Edgar was starting to grow tired of Dazai’s cryptic answers. He just wanted to know the severity of Ranpo’s injuries, was that really too much to ask?

Dazai threw him a teasing grin. “Now where’s the fun in that, Poe? Just trust me when I say you’ll be shocked.”

And shocked Edgar was.

It took a few hours for a doctor to come out and speak with them, telling them that the surgery had been a success and that Ranpo was being moved to a room where he would stay a few days for observation before being allowed to go home, but that he was allowed to have visitors so long as they were quiet. And really, that was all it took for Edgar to stand and ask—he was pretty sure it was more of a demand than an ask—the doctor to take him to Ranpo. The doctor gave him an odd look before just nodding and soon enough, he was sitting in Ranpo’s room in a chair placed beside his partner’s bedside, just watching as his chest rose and fell, reassuring himself that Ranpo was alive and would wake up from the anaesthesia soon.

Edgar scooted the chair closer to the bed and reached out to grab Ranpo’s uninjured hand, running his thumb over the back of it—taking care to avoid the IV of course—as he rested his head on the covers and just continued to watch Ranpo silently. His eyes looked over the bruising that marred Ranpo’s face, no doubt from his fall down the stairs, and there was a large graze underneath his eye. Edgar was almost certain that there were more grazes and bruises scattered about Ranpo’s body, but they were simply hidden by the gown the other was wearing. Either way, he knew he would be hearing about how painful and annoying they were for days to come.

But that wasn’t what Edgar was focusing on.

No, what he was focusing on was Ranpo’s arm, the one he wasn’t holding; the limb in question was resting on Ranpo’s stomach with a pillow underneath it for support, and said limb was swathed in more bandages than Edgar had ever seen in his life. The bandages covered the entire limb—even a couple of Ranpo’s fingers were bandaged—and disappeared beneath the gown, which was more than enough for Edgar to understand the severity of the injury; as if the fact that Ranpo had just had surgery to fix the damage wasn’t already enough of a tell.

“I did tell you, you’d be shocked.” Dazai’s voice right in his ear caused him to jolt and turn to glare at him. The man cackled as he slunk around to the foot of the bed and leant against the railing. “The doctor’s just updating Fukuzawa so that he can fill out the incident report, and then he’ll be by to update you.”

Edgar sighed and nodded, returning his head to the bed and silence fell upon the room. But despite the silence, Dazai’s presence was loud, the guilt that the other man was feeling, was drowning the room and creating a suffocating atmosphere. And that combined with Edgar’s residing anxiety, was bound to end in disaster; and since Dazai didn’t seem inclined to say anything anytime soon, that meant it was up to Edgar to fix it. At least temporarily. He sat back in his seat, allowing his hand to fall away from Ranpo’s as he fixed Dazai with a look. “Ranpo does not blame you, Dazai.”

A scoff. “How can you possibly know that?”

“I don’t.” Edgar said. “But you and I both know what Ranpo is like, and that he has never said the words I blame you, when he gets hurt in the line of duty. What makes you think this time is any different?”

“Because this time he needed surgery.”

Edgar shrugged. “Your work is dangerous; surgery was bound to happen sooner or later. Did you blame Ranpo when you needed surgery after being shot last year?”

There was a very long silence as Dazai bowed his head, no doubt remembering the incident that Edgar was talking about, and eventually shook his head. “I did not.”

“Then stop blaming yourself until Ranpo tells you he does.”

Twelve weeks of recovery… that’s going to make Ranpo miserable. Edgar thought as he ran the doctor’s words through his mind again. It was just him in the room with Ranpo now, Fukuzawa and Dazai needing to go back to the office to fill out the appropriate paperwork—although both had promised to come back tomorrow to visit and see how Ranpo was doing. And since Ranpo was still unconscious, Edgar had all the time in the world to just sit and think about what the doctor had told him. Apparently, according to the doctor—and the x-ray’s he’d been shown—Ranpo’s wrist and hand had taken the brunt of the attack, several of the bones snapping upon being struck.

Edgar was ever so grateful that Ranpo had gotten his arm up in time to block the bat from hitting him in the head because he couldn’t even begin to imagine that injury…

But it wasn’t the bat that had wound up doing most of the damage, but the fall that had followed afterwards. Because falling down a massive amount of stairs while holding onto another person with an already broken wrist did nothing but make the injury even worse. So what could’ve been just a broken wrist that needed a cast for a few weeks, turned into a completely broken arm that needed surgery to fix the bones because they had shifted out of place. And a minor concussion; they couldn’t forget the concussion. Edgar let out a sigh, just knowing that the next twelve weeks were going to be a very challenging time; with Ranpo’s arm the way it was, there was no way that his partner was going to be able to do anything himself, which meant that Edgar was going to have to step up and take care of things, which meant that he’d need to take time off from his own work, which meant a loss of income—

“Nngh…”

—and while Edgar had more than enough money to cover all their bills until Ranpo could return to work, and was more than happy to do as such, he knew that doing so would do nothing but make Ranpo upset. Because while Edgar had been born into money, Ranpo had not, and hated accepting any kind of financial aid, preferring to starve and suffer than accept help. Over the years that they’d known each other, it’d gotten better, but Ranpo still insisted on paying his own way more often than not, and he knew that not being able to work was going to hurt him. Still, Edgar would do his absolute best to make Ranpo’s recovery—

“Edgar, you’re thinking too loud again…” Edgar froze as a finger poked his forehead, and he looked up to see Ranpo, barely conscious, but still conscious and blinking slowly at him.

A smile quickly grew on Edgar’s face as he stood and sat on the edge of the bed so that Ranpo didn’t have to crane his head to look down at him. “I think I’m thinking just the right amount, actually.”

Ranpo hummed, looking around the room as he took in his surroundings. His eyes flitted from Edgar to the machine monitoring his vitals, then back to Edgar, before finally falling to his injured arm. Edgar watched quietly as Ranpo gave an experimental wiggle of his fingers and winced as only his pinkie twitched. “Ow…”

“Maybe don’t do that, dear, you just had surgery.” Edgar said, reaching over to carefully rest a hand on the bandages, drawing Ranpo’s attention back to him. “I’ll go get the doctor—”

“No, I’m going to go to sleep. I’m tired.” Ranpo interrupted Edgar before he could even finish his sentence, and shuffled to get more comfortable in the bed before closing his eyes.

I should’ve expected that. Edgar sighed and moved his hand until he could hold Ranpo’s uninjured one, and gave it a gentle squeeze until those green eyes flicked open again and focused on him. “Ranpo, let me get the doctor first. She needs to talk to you, and the faster that happens, the faster you can get some sleep.”

“Ugh, fine. Go get the stupid doctor then.”

“Please don’t call the doctor stupid. She did just put you back together.” Edgar stood and leaned over to gently press his lips to Ranpo’s forehead, feeling even more of his stress leaving as Ranpo smiled at the gesture. “I’ll be back soon, alright?”

Ranpo let out a hum, and Edgar reluctantly drew away so that he hunt down the doctor that was in charge of taking care of his partner. Thankfully, that didn’t take all that long to do and soon he was back by Ranpo’s bedside listening as the doctor spoke to him about his arm and the care that would have to go into making sure it healed properly. A lot was the answer; Edgar listened as the doctor explained that Ranpo was more than welcome to go home to recover, but that he would have to come back to the hospital to remove his stitches and get the bandages exchanged for a cast in which his arm would remain until the twelve weeks had passed.

Unless there was a complication or problem, in which case, he was to return to the hospital immediately, but Edgar was praying there wouldn’t be. He didn’t think his heart would be able to cope with any more stress.

But ultimately, the doctor made sure that they both understood that Ranpo was not to use his arm under any circumstance, no matter how much he wanted to.

Ranpo huffed the moment the doctor left the two of them alone, an unhappy look on his face, one that Edgar recognized easily because he’d seen it on his partner’s face many times over the years. It was a look of despair born from the knowledge that for a short time, Ranpo wouldn’t be able to live as he normally would, that he wouldn’t be able to do what he loved, and that he’d be stuck at home for such a long time. And it was a look that Edgar always hated seeing, so whenever it appeared, he always tried to do what he could to ease the pain.

He slowly rose from the chair and crawled onto the bed, and, whilst being mindful of Ranpo’s arm, stretched out beside his love so that their shoulders were touching, and their legs pressed together. He felt Ranpo begin to relax beside him. “I’ll be there to help you, you know that.”

“I know.” Ranpo’s head dropped to rest against his shoulder as he sighed, good hand fisting the blankets beneath it. “But you shouldn’t have to.”

“You help me all the time.” Edgar said with a shrug. “When I overwork myself, when my mental health crashes, when I’m stressing over a deadline, you’re always there. So what kind of partner would I be if I wasn’t there for you when you needed help?”

“A terrible one.” Even though he couldn’t see Ranpo’s face, Edgar could hear the smile in it. “Thanks Edgar, and… sorry if I worried you.”

Edgar smiled, and rested his own head on top of Ranpo’s. “It’s fine, dear, I’ve come to accept that you’ll be worrying me until the day we die.”

“Some people would say that’s a bad thing to say.”

“And you?”

Ranpo snorted. “I think it’s a very you thing to say.”

Five weeks into dealing with Ranpo having the use of just one arm, Edgar liked to think he had a handle on things and that everything was going well. In the beginning, it’d been hard, because Ranpo had insisted on trying to do everything himself and did not hesitate to snap at Edgar whenever he tried to help. And honestly, his partner had done very well at first, taking things slow so he could actually get them done. It wasn’t until Ranpo had tried to shower on his own in that first week that he’d realized help wasn’t the worst thing in the world.

Edgar’s heart still skipped an entire year whenever he remembered the thud and the wail that had followed when Ranpo had slipped over in the shower and whacked his arm against the tiles. Somehow, by some sort of miracle, Ranpo had avoided injuring himself even further, but that hadn’t stopped Edgar from being filled with so much stress as he’d called Fukuzawa to ask for a ride to the hospital—he was the only person that Edgar knew of with a car, and Ranpo had been in so much pain that there were tears—and he was forever grateful when the man showed up not even ten minutes later to help.

And with some x-rays—that showed no new damage—and painkillers—that left his partner drowsy—Ranpo was sent home with a warning to be more careful.

After that incident though, Edgar quickly became Ranpo’s personal butler, not that he was complaining of course. He would rather cater to Ranpo’s every whim if it meant not seeing tears in the other’s eyes.

Every morning, he would drag himself out of bed and down the stairs to wake Ranpo who’d taken to sleeping on the couch, claiming that he slept better when he didn’t have to worry about rolling onto his arm in his sleep. Edgar shared the sentiment, but he missed having Ranpo in his arms while he slept; he slept better when he knew Ranpo was beside him, but he would take the other’s comfort over his own right now. After waking Ranpo, came breakfast—always something simple because Edgar wasn’t the biggest fan of cooking, even if he was good at it—and then came the task of getting Ranpo dressed, but only if his partner deemed it a non-pyjama day. Most of the time, Ranpo was content to laze about in the clothes he slept in, which Edgar couldn’t fault him for, because it took a lot of effort to get Ranpo’s injured arm through the sleeves of the shirts he usually wore.

But anyway, after battling with clothes—because it truly was a battle—it was time for Edgar to do some work; his partner had insisted that even though he was unable to work, Edgar didn’t need to stop working because of that. Of course, Edgar protested against that idea, because what if Ranpo needed him and he wasn’t there to help? Trouble always seemed to find Ranpo no matter where he was and no matter what he was doing; literally, Ranpo could be watching a movie and he’d still find some way to hurt himself. It was a skill that terrified Edgar, and one that Ranpo vehemently denied the existence of. But eventually, after a few more arguments, Edgar had compromised by saying that he’d only work half-days, giving him the rest of the day to spend with Ranpo, and Ranpo hadn’t complained—he’d even seemed happy with the idea.

And once Edgar was finished with work, it was time for dinner which was, once again, a simple affair, and then he and Ranpo simply spent time together until one or both of them passed out. Most of the time they would watch whatever show that Ranpo had started that day—being unable to do anything resulted in a lot of free time—or they would read books at the opposite ends of the couch, just sitting in silence whilst Karl curled up on one of their laps or the couch itself. And it was there that Edgar would remain, just waiting until Ranpo would fall asleep in which he would get up and make sure his partner was comfortable, often covering him with a blanket before dragging himself to bed. Sometimes he was joined by Karl, but most of the time he wasn’t; the raccoon choosing to keep Ranpo company while he was injured instead.

And that’d been their routine for five weeks now.

Only another seven to go.

“Edgar, my wonderful writing man, it’s almost lunch time, which means you need to stop sleeping.” Edgar let out a groan as Ranpo’s voice assaulted his ears, and rolled over with the intention of getting some more sleep. He’d stayed up a little too long writing last night, having been hit with a burst of inspiration, so he was rather tired. So instead of getting up, he rolled over and dragged his blanket over his head—the wrong choice to make apparently. “No, Edgar, you can sleep more later. Get up! I’m hungry!”

The blanket that Edgar had wrapped around himself was pulled away harshly, and he let out an undignified yelp as he chased after it, eyes flying open to see Ranpo standing beside the bed, looking satisfied with himself. A quick glance to the clock showed that it was just past one, meaning neither he nor Ranpo had eaten yet, and more importantly; he had missed work. Shit! I should’ve set an alarm.. “I’m sorry, dear, I’ll get you something to eat now.”

Ranpo fixed him with a look as he scrambled to get out of bed, nearly tripping over the sheets as they tangled around his legs. He was freed from his struggles when Ranpo stepped on the edge of the blanket and it feel to the ground in a heap that Edgar stepped out of. “You were up late writing again.”

It wasn’t a question or a statement; it was a simple fact, and despite that, Ranpo voicing it still made him flush in embarrassment. “I was… I was about to go to bed when I got hit with some inspiration and I didn’t want to forget. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—”

“It’s fine. You don’t get enough sleep anyway.” Ranpo interrupted, sitting on the edge of the bed. “You left your phone downstairs so I woke up when your boss called to ask where you were.”

“O-Oh… did you, um, answer?” Edgar froze in front of the closet door, hand on the handle as he looked over his shoulder towards Ranpo.

Ranpo scoffed. “Of course not. I don’t answer the phone—” that was a fact that Edgar knew all too well, “—but I did send him a text to say you were sick.”

Edgar sighed. “Please tell me you just said I had a cold and not that I was not dying. I’m still getting sent ‘get well’ cards from the first time you did that.”

“Yes, I said it was a cold, don’t worry.” Ranpo said, coming to lean against Edgar’s side and looked up at him, snickering. “Besides, you have to admit that was funny.”

“For you, maybe. For my co-workers, not so much.” Edgar opened the closet door and rifled through the various clothes hanging up, trying to find one of Ranpo’s shirts, which would be much easier to find if Ranpo didn’t just hang his clothes on the first hanger he found. “Are you going to take a shower today?”

“Only if you take one with me.”

Edgar rolled his eyes, having expected that answer. “As if I’d let you shower on your own until that cast comes off.”

“That was one time, Edgar. One time!”

“And one time too many. It was terrifying to see you on the floor like that.” Edgar finally found a shirt and pulled it out to show Ranpo. It was one of his own shirts actually that he’d even forgotten he owned, but it was big and would probably be much easier to get Ranpo into—and out of—than one of his own. Ranpo studied the shirt for a moment before he nodded his approval, and Edgar returned his attention to the closet. “I’ll meet you in the bathroom. Please be careful if you try to undress yourself.”

“You need to stop stressing so much, Edgar, otherwise you’ll go gray.” Ranpo called over his shoulder as he made his way into the bathroom, leaving Edgar alone on the room, not that he would be alone for too long since he would be joining Ranpo momentarily anyway.

He rolled his eyes fondly at the words, quickly pulling out some clothes for himself before he followed Ranpo into the bathroom, snorting when he stumbled upon Ranpo in the middle of a wrestling match with his shirt. “Do you need a hand?”

“No!” Came Ranpo’s response as his head disappeared into the shirt. Edgar watched in an amused silence as Ranpo squirmed about before his head suddenly reemerged and he pulled his shirt off the rest of the way, tossing it into the corner of the room. “See? I got it.”

“Okay great, and what about your pants?” Edgar asked, stepping further into the room to place the clothes on the counter top. He crouched in front of the cabinet and searched through it, looking for the roll of plastic wrap he’d put in there so that they didn’t have to trek to the kitchen every time Ranpo wanted a shower. Where is it—ah! There it is. Edgar grabbed the wrap and stood, turning back towards Ranpo.

“I got them covered too. Just watch.” And watch Edgar did, as Ranpo hooked his two working fingers into the waist of his pants and shimmied them off, along with his underwear, before he threw Edgar a massive grin as he tossed them over to where his shirt lay. “See? After five weeks, I’m not a total invalid.”

Edgar merely rolled his eyes, and held out the plastic wrap, waiting for Ranpo to hold his arm up before he began to wrap it until there was no chance of water getting through. As such was their routine every time Ranpo had to take a shower—which wasn’t too often because it was simply easier to fill the bathtub and get clean that way, but there was just something about showers that soothed his partner, so if Ranpo said it was shower time, it was shower time, and nothing could change his mind.

Once Ranpo’s arm was wrapped, Edgar ruffled Ranpo’s hair affectionately. “You’re doing very well, dear.”

Ranpo’s cheeks began to burn, and he ducked away from Edgar’s hand to slip into the shower. “Of course, I am! I’m a genius after all; there’s nothing I can’t do!”

“Well, there are the trains—”

“Edgar, please shut up.”

Edgar very much liked showering with Ranpo, even before Ranpo had broken his arm and needed someone to be in the room—or in the shower because who was Poe to turn down showering with his partner? —with him to make sure he didn’t slip and fall. There was no explanation for it really; just there was something about awkwardly standing under the showerhead together, sharing the water, and washing each other’s hair and bodies that was calming and just… loving. Every time that he and Ranpo showered together, it was just… nice. And this time was no different; Edgar made sure that he kept his touch gentle as he ran his hands through Ranpo’s hair, washing it free of the shampoo he’d just washed it with, smiling at the pleased noises that the other was letting out as his head rested against Edgar’s chest, eyes closed to avoid getting shampoo in his eyes. “Don’t fall asleep there, my love.”

“’m not sleeping… it just feels good, that’s all.” Ranpo murmured, lifting his head off of Edgar’s chest just enough for his eyes to be seen, if only to try and prove that he hadn’t just been dozing. Edgar wasn’t stupid though, he knew Ranpo far too well to be fooled by that, and he wasn’t going to say anything because it made him feel happy that Ranpo trusted him enough to keep him upright when he was tired.

He hummed and guided Ranpo’s head out of the shower spray so that he could scrub some conditioner into his hair. “I’m almost done, so you’ll be able to take a nap if you’re tired.”

Ranpo’s face scrunched up. “I’m tired of sleeping all the time. I want to do something else.”

“Well, you have been stayed inside for five weeks, so we could go outside for a bit?”

“No thanks.” Ranpo said even though he looked like he was truly considering taking him up on the offer. “Knowing my luck, I’d fall down the stairs and break my neck—hey, I know! We can play a game together!”

Wait, what? Edgar’s hands stopped moving, experiencing mental whiplash from the sudden change in topic.“I’m sorry?”

“Ugh, you heard me. I want to play a game.” Ranpo repeated, slower this time, tilting his head back to look up at Edgar. “I haven’t played any of my games since I broke my arm, and I want to.”

Edgar had to stop and think over what Ranpo said for a moment, tilting Ranpo’s head back just enough so that he could rinse out the conditioner, running his fingers through his partners hair to make sure that he got all of it out. “Okay… but how exactly do you expect to play if you can’t hold a controller?”

“You know, for someone so smart, that’s a really dumb question. You’re going to hold the controller for me, obviously.”

A sound idea, if only for one problem. “Uh… Ranpo, you do know that I’ve never played a video game in my life, right?”

“It’s not that hard, Edgar. You just have to listen to what I tell you, and you are very good at that.”

Somehow, Edgar doubted it was as simple as that, but like usual, there was no point in trying to argue with Ranpo whenever his mind was set on something; in this case, videogames. He sighed and reached over to turn the shower off. Something told him he was going to regret his decision, yet he still opened his mouth to agree. “Alright, we can give it a try. But please, don’t yell if I don’t understand. I learn quick, but not that quick.”

“Yeah, yeah, okay,” Ranpo stepped out of the shower and stood, patiently waiting until Edgar grabbed the towels, draping one around his shoulders, and using the other to dry Ranpo’s hair. Ranpo grunted and continued, “can we hurry it up? I want to play!”

“Patience, my dear.” Edgar said, letting the towel drop to rest around Ranpo’s shoulders while he lifted his own to start drying his own hair. “We still need to get you dressed.”

Ranpo huffed, but nodded. Edgar was glad when Ranpo fell silent since that meant he could focus on what he was doing and not get distracted, and therefore, be done faster. He was quick to dress himself, pulling on one of his turtlenecks because the days were starting to get cold, and then some paw-patterned shorts that Ranpo had gifted him a birthday ago. The entire time, he could feel his partners eyes watching him impatiently, and he did his best to ignore it as he used his fingers to comb his hair back and tie it up a little, letting half of it fall against the back of his neck. If Ranpo was going to coerce him into playing a game, he wanted to be able to see what he was doing.

Once he was dressed, it was time to tackle the battle that was getting Ranpo into clothes, which wasn’t as difficult as it sounded, but was still only possible with two people. It would’ve been different if Ranpo had been able to use his fingers, but the cast on his arm only allowed him the use of two of them, and Ranpo was impatient, so it was easier to just have Edgar help him in the first place. First came the shirt, shoving Ranpo’s broken arm through the sleeve before pulling it over his head. Next came the pants, in which Edgar simply crouched so that Ranpo could use him for balance as he lifted one leg through the hole and then the other.

And that was that. “All done.” Edgar said as he stood and left the bathroom, Ranpo trailing behind him. “What game—”

“We’re not done yet!” Ranpo interrupted, making a beeline for the closet, searching through it until he emerged with two pairs of socks. “It’s cold! I don’t want cold feet, and neither do you!”

With a roll of his eyes, Edgar complied with the unspoken demand, helping Ranpo into the socks first, making sure that the pants were tucked into them just the way that Ranpo liked them, and then pulled the other pair over his own feet. He didn’t care much for socks, not in the way that Ranpo did, but the socks that the other had pulled out were the ones that had been handmade for them by one of Ranpo’s co-workers for Christmas a couple of years ago, and whenever Ranpo wanted to wear his own pair, Edgar was expected to wear them too. So he did, even if the weather wasn’t quite cold enough for woollen socks.

For the same reason that he was about to play a videogame for the first time in his life.

Love.

In hindsight, Edgar should’ve known that Ranpo wouldn’t hold up to his promise of not yelling, but he also should’ve known better to expect Ranpo not to in the first place. How many times had he had to listen to Ranpo yell at the characters in his games for being stupid and failing to survive? Too many times, far too many. After the first yell, in which Edgar had jumped and nearly thrown the console in his hands, he should’ve called it quits then. But he didn’t, because he was an idiot in love, and despite the occasional yells, there was so much life in Ranpo’s eyes, life that he hadn’t even realized was missing in the first place.

Not that he was saying that Ranpo had been lifeless of course, but his partner certainly hadn’t been as happy as he usually was over the past weeks, so it was nice to see that happiness return. And well, it wasn’t that bad really; Ranpo toned down the yelling after the first jump, although he was still loud by Edgar’s standards. And if he really had to admit it, gaming with Ranpo was just another bonding experience—one he probably wouldn’t engage in again once Ranpo had the use of his arms again, but he may just sit and watch Ranpo play one day.

And no, it was not because the game that Ranpo had picked was one that required him to think, not at all.

“No, don’t put him there, Edgar, he’ll die. He’s a mage, not a tank.” Ranpo whined from where he lay on the couch, stretched out with his back against Edgar’s chest, arm resting on the pillow he’d stolen from the arm chair on the other side of the room. His head thudded against Edgar’s shoulder as he threw it back with a groan.

“Then where exactly do you want me to put him?” Edgar cried, tilting his head to the side so that he could see the screen better, and looked just a little frazzled at trying to figure out what it was that Ranpo wanted him to do with the character. As much as Ranpo knew what he was doing in this game when it came to strategies and the characters, his instructions to Edgar were very much unclear, and it was just a little frustrating. “He kills everything in one shot!”

“Yes, so put him two spaces backwards out of enemy range.” Ranpo pointed to the square in question, speaking as if the solution was obvious, which as he spoke, Edgar realised it was, but still. “And then move the actual tank in front of him as protection, just in case.”

“Dedue is too far—”

“I don’t mean Dedue, I mean Felix!”

“Felix isn’t a tank!” He may have never heard of this game before, but that much he knew from the few hours they’d been playing this game already, mostly because of how many times he’d gotten Felix killed until Ranpo had taught him how to increase stats. And then he’d become their strongest character.

“So? He’ll dodge all those enemies and kill them, so therefore, he’s a tank.”

Isn’t a tank supposed to take hits, not give them? Edgar thought, but did as Ranpo asked. He was the expert here after all, but he was still going to say something about it. “I find your logic there a little flawed, dear.”

“Yeah, well, I know what I’m doing. So, unless you think you know better, do as I say.”

Edgar rolled his eyes, and fell silent, and thankfully, Ranpo did as well, only speaking up to give new instructions. And honestly… it was nice, to have Ranpo resting comfortably against his chest, to feel his heart beating and his warmth; all things that Edgar hadn’t realized he’d been missing until this moment. Because, sure, Ranpo had been home for five weeks, and would remain home for another seven, and they had been spending more time together than they usually could because of their conflicting schedules, but not like this. This was different, and Edgar wanted more of it. He wanted to hold Ranpo close until his beloved fell asleep in his arms, regardless of his injury, he wanted to help Ranpo more even though he’d already been doing more than enough. He wanted to—

“Edgar, your phone’s buzzing.”

Huh? A quick glance showed that his phone was indeed buzzing from its spot beside him. “Oh, it’s Fukuzawa.” But before he could even pick the phone up to answer it, Ranpo leaned over and swiped it up. “Ranpo!”

“What? He only calls you when he can’t get a hold of me.”

That may have been true, but that wasn’t the point. But before he could say as much, Ranpo was thumbing the screen and answering the call. Edgar sighed, and shuffled down the couch a little, putting down the console—after saving of course—and stretching out his legs so that he was laying on the couch instead of sitting, just listening as Ranpo chatted with his boss. With one hand, he wrapped an arm around Ranpo’s waist, holding Ranpo’s injured hand and thumbing over the cast—Ranpo wouldn’t feel it, but it was the gesture that mattered—and with his other, he reached up and stroked his hand through Karl’s fur; the raccoon had been sleeping peacefully on the back of the couch the entire time they’d been gaming, and let out a quiet chatter as he was petted before pulling his tail over his nose.

Then, Edgar closed his eyes and let his head fall back to rest on the arm of the couch, letting Ranpo’s voice fade into the background a little. He was rather tired from working, and making sure that Ranpo was taken care of, more than he thought he would be. Edgar closed his eyes; perhaps he’d take a quick nap, and enjoy the feeling of Ranpo’s back against his chest, warm and heavy. It’d been far too long since he’d last been able to hold his love, and it was one of the many reasons why he wished that Ranpo’s arm would heal quicker, you know, aside from the fact that Ranpo’s arm was broken—and also, itchy, and achy according to the complaints Ranpo voiced every other day.

But he also didn’t mind it, because it allowed him to dote and take care of the person that meant the most to him in his life, it allowed him to cook and clean, and make sure that Ranpo was comfortable, but most of all, it allowed him to spend time with someone he usually only saw on weekends because of their conflicting schedules. And it made him a little sad to know that once Ranpo’s arm was healed, that life would go back to the way it had been.

But just a little.

Edgar didn’t know how long he slept for, but the next thing he was aware of was a finger gently poking him in the cheek. He opened his eyes to find Ranpo staring up at him, and yawned. “Yes, my love?”

“You need to sleep more if you’re passing out on the couch when I’m chattering in your ear.” Ranpo commented as he stood, offering a hand towards Edgar. “Fukuzawa says hi and thanks as well. Apparently he thinks I’m being annoying. As if, I’m a delight to take care of.”

You just keep telling yourself that, Ranpo. Edgar’s lips twitched, and accepted the hand, using it to pull himself upright. “What did Fukuzawa want?”

Ranpo shrugged. “Just to see how I was, but also to let us know that he’ll be bringing dinner over tomorrow. But that’s tomorrow’s problem, right now, you need sleep.”

Edgar didn’t even try to argue as Ranpo dragged him out of the living room and upstairs, and he didn’t say anything as his partner nudged him into bed, but he did speak when Ranpo crawled in after him. “Ranpo, what are—”

“Shut up you, I’m not stupid.” Ranpo said as he forced Edgar to lay back before he curled up into his side, resting his arm across Edgar’s stomach. “You’ve been wanting to cuddle.”

“Well, yes, but—”

“No buts!” Ranpo pressed a finger against his lips to stop his words. “Just accept what’s happening and sleep. My arm will be fine and…” Ranpo’s voice turned into a whisper, “maybe I missed this too.”

Edgar simply smiled and reached down to drag the blankets over the both of them. “Well then, I can’t say no to that then now, can I?”

“Nope! Now hurry up and sleep!”

“Yes, dear.”

[politemagic]

one day I'll disappear deep into the woods, never to return to civilization. but until then, you can find me here collecting my various trinkets and treasures ⋆｡°✩𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊✧˖ °

ཐི♡ཋྀ you can call me em (or whatever tickles your fancy)

ཐི♡ཋྀ my pronouns are she/they

ཐི♡ཋྀ I primarily post Sleep Token, but it is not uncommon to find Alpha Wolf, Holding Absence, Ghost, or any of my other hyperfixations in these parts. (but I try to tag everything as best as I can!)

ཐི♡ཋྀ I am currently writing a Sleep Token haunted house au called The Haunting of Sleep Manor, it can be found here and on ao3!

ཐི♡ཋྀ don't hesitate to send me asks, tag me in things, message me, etc. it doesn’t matter if we’re long time mutuals or if you just started following me 5 seconds ago, come yap with me!!

ཐི♡ཋྀ occasionally nsfw, minors do not interact

ཐི♡ཋྀ I have zero tolerance policy for any racism, homophobia, transphobia, sexism, or any general assholery. we're all just here to have a good time, so all I ask is for some human decency.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟtags below*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ

📓 #em's stcu <- (em's sleep token cinematic universe) home of all my Sleep Token related writing (lyrical analyses, fic, etc.)

subtags: #slasher token, #single dad ivy

👻 #the haunting of sleep manor <- tag for everything related to my haunted house au

🔪 #em's worshitposting <- a gallery of my silly & ridiculous Sleep Token memes

disclaimer: anything I post about Sleep Token is based solely on their stage personas + my own personal interpretations of the lore. I respect their wishes to remain anonymous and therefore have not sought out their identities + have nothing substantial to base anything off of :)

🦄 impolitemagic <- on occasion you may find me being particularly thirsty on the dash, you may blacklist accordingly

💭 #em's ponderings <- take a gander inside the wonderful world of my brain, mostly random stream of consciousness thoughts

🎶 #em’s tasty tunes <- collection of my various music recommendations

🪨 #emcore <- types of posts that I feel match my vibe, in terms of either relatability or aesthetic

💜 #em's trinkets and treasures <- treasure trove of some of my favorite posts

📷 #em's great adventures <- scrapbook of my photos from trips, experiences, etc.

⚔️ #tattooing this on the inside of my eyelids <- for when I (or anybody) needs a little motivation

🖤 #me when i have the loveliest mutuals in the entire world <- my evidence files as to why my mutuals are the most delightful and wonderful folks on this earth

🔮 #tw flashing lights <- I share a lot of concert content with some crazy lighting, anything with flashing (of any intensity) is tagged as such.

note: all trigger warnings are tagged in this same format of "tw [trigger]" I do occasionally speak about my mental health, anything in those posts will be tagged accordingly. if there are any triggers that you need tagged, please reach out to me and I will tag it for you <3

updated 27.09.24

[gunslinginnhogtyin]

Date?

@splinter-sister

Send me “Date?” and i'll answer... // @splinter-sister

Who asks for it:

[x] Your muse asks mine

[ ] My muse asks yours

Type of date:

[ ] Platonic Date

[x] Romantic Date

[x] First Date

[x] Double date with: Mack & Gale (i'm so down for a three way thread!!)

Location for the date:

[ ] Movies   • [ ] Romantic Comedy   • [ ] Adventure Movie   • [ ] Animation (Pixar/Disney)   • [ ] Horror   • [ ] Drama   • [ ] Buddy Movie   • [ ] ___ (other options)

[x] Restaurant   • [x] Expensive/High Class (dine n' dash perhaps?)   • [x] Small and familiar   • [x] Fast Food

[x] Nature  • [ ] Beach  • [ ] Park  • [x] Forest      • [x] …and having a picnic

[x] Visiting a Museum (i want a ferris bueller moment for these two in an art museum or smthn)

[x] Visiting an amusement park

[x] Visiting a haunted location

[x] Staying at home  • [x] Watching movies (old westerns or cheesy rom-coms they make fun of together 8"))  • [ ] Playing Video Games  • [ ] Reading

[x] cooking, WRASTLIN', board games, kush smoke sesh (other options)

The date might hopefully end with…

[x] …holding hands

[x] …a kiss

[x] …in bed

[x] …knowing each other better 

[ ] …sleepover between friends 

[ ] …a marriage proposal

[x] both of them plastered as hell looking up at the stars (other options)

Should you reblog this?:

[ ] Yes. I want to send you one.

[x] Yes.(but u already did one! x))

[ ] No.

[phantomuheist]

@iiguess said: 3, 5, and/or 21 for the mun meme!

send me a number and I'll talk about it | Accepting

3. Roleplaying with yourself

I can understand doing it in drabbles and all that or if you're a multimuse (heck, I do it), but by yourself if you have multiple blogs, it's kinda weird? Not to say that you're a loser, but I've seen it happen before and I can't say I understand the point of doing that if you have writing partners. Maybe you're bored, I don't know. Not my cup of tea.

5. dash commentary

It can be very fun to participate in if we exclude the fact that I live in the future compared to US timezones and I almost always miss the good stuff when I'm in Dreamland. It sucks, but when I happen to catch it live, it's the best as long as we're mutuals! It's weird when I comment on someone I don't know, so I tend not to do that and stick to my lane.

21. your current rpc

I've been here for so many years and I don't regret it. I've met some wonderful people. I had my first relationship which ended in failure. I met some toxic people who are now out of my life, but still haunt me to this day and I like talking about them. It's a ball of emotions. I plan on staying until I get too old for it, so you'll have to tolerate me even more. :3

[sageywritings]

Call

WARNING: THIS CHAPTER USES LANGUAGE THAT SOME MAY FIND OFFENSIVE AND TOUCHES ON SENSITIVE TOPICS THAT SOME READERS MAY FIND UPSETTING. (fw: slurs, suicide)

READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED.

One call in progress. "I hate phone calls."

Long overdue, here is chapter 12 of Flames of Change. A lot of my time away I've spent rewriting the first three chapters and uploading them to AO3. I'm in the process of uploading all the chapters there, so if you would rather read that version, check it out under TheOneCalledSage. But, I'll continue to upload here. Me and my irrelevant blog against the world, baby. Anyways, hope you enjoy!

The Ospreay family belong to me

Sienna Umberon belongs to @gruntnuker-rwby

Dusty Millaray and T belong to @wetsliceofbread

The door flinging open with a loud slam did very little to disturb Dash. He was already awake, and although sleep had evaded him for the past hour at least, he still laid curled up hoping it would embrace him soon. But, his body was too acclimated at this point to the same confined surroundings, and seeing the same guards watching him for what felt like the millionth time, and the same early wakeup call from the medic Sienna sent to check his vitals. Dash rolled over and creaked his eyes open, still trying to maintain the facade of sleep even though the racket meant it was pointless. It was like he was begging the alarm before class for five more unattainable minutes. He was expecting the medic to kick the bars and bark at him to wake up any second now. 

But instead, all he saw through squinted eyes was Sienna pacing back and forth in a crazed hurry. She was mumbling in a hushed tone, too quietly for Dash to make anything out. On about the seventh or eighth cycle of turning toward the door, she finally noticed three or four Fang soldiers in the doorway, each with important questions or paperwork for Sienna but none of them daring to be the first one to present it to her.

“I need this place to myself for a while. So everyone OUT!” Now the guards were tripping over each other to see who could get away from Sienna’s flame-bearing teeth the fastest. Dash could hear the tornado of papers being abandoned from his cell. The last one out didn’t want a reprimand finding its way up the chain of command. Or worse, a reprimand from Sienna in the form of fire being flicked their way. Once left alone, Sienna put two fingers to both her temples and rubbed with an excruciating groan. Now she talked louder, but still as if Dash couldn’t hear. “They have to know by now, right? They have to, one of them had to tell them. How does this keep happening? Why do they keep showing up now of all times?! What am I, haunted??” Dash sat up on the bed, with Sienna unaware, her back turned in search through a cabinet for the next stashed bottle of booze she would claim as a victim.

“So. How was he?” Dash finally spoke up. Sienna’s spin cycle of rumination halted. Dash wanted to add a comment about how it was a bit too early to drink. But he didn’t want to test his possibly sleep deprived warden’s barely existent patience. Otherwise the next bottle of whiskey would be aimed right at his head with speed and precision that would’ve made him jealous on the baseball field.

“What?” Sienna said angrily.

“Sol. You saw him, right? Did you make sure to tell him hi for me?”

“You think this is funny? I keep running into your fucking team!”

“And that’s my fault?” Dash said, unable to contain a disbelieving laugh. “Oh look! It’s the consequences of my own actions! I thought they’d never catch me here!” Sienna snarled and suddenly reached in between the bars to snatch the heir by the throat. Dash gasped and tried to prop his foot against a bar to try and pull away, but Sienna kicked the bar, sending pain reverberating up to his already damaged knee.

“You don’t get to talk about actions! Look where your actions got you! Forgotten by your precious family name that you defended at any cost no matter how many lives had to suffer in your shadow!” Dash was choking for mercy. His legs were starting to give out. In a last ditch effort, he reached out to try and pry Sienna’s hand off of him, just for her other searing hand to lock onto his forearm. “It’s your fault you're here. It… it's your fault we can't be together!” She suddenly let go, and Dash dropped onto all fours in a vicious coughing fit. It was like Sienna was brimming with so much rage she couldn't transfer it to her muscles. So instead, she settled for an alternative and grabbed her own arm. She grimaced but didn't let go as the skin around her fingers began to glow red.

“What… what are you doing?” Dash asked shakily, his voice raspy in between coughing.

“Like you care,” Sienna mumbled with ears down. She was right, part of him didn't. Part of him wanted to watch her self-destruct. But part of him remembered what she told him. How she was the reason he and Dawn were still alive. He felt care in between the pulses of pain throbbing through his arm and his neck. He wanted to tell her to stop, to knock it off, although the chances of her actually listening were somewhere between slim and none. The door flying open again, however, did the trick and she let go. The White Fang rookie that drew the short straw scrambled in.

“Boss!” he called.

“I told you I didn't wanna be bothered! This better be good,” Sienna yelled. He nodded sheepishly and outstretched his hand to offer up a phone. After a moment to let her fingers cool, she took it for inspection. The screen was dark at first, but then illuminated to reveal a call with an unknown number already in progress. “I hate phone calls,” she thought to herself, surveying it a little longer as if someone else was going to take it from her if she waited. But, she put it up to her ear and spoke bluntly. “Speaking.” The voice on the other end was calm, almost scarily assured, like it was nothing more than a standard business affair.

“Where are my kids?”

An uncontrollable grin took over Sienna's face. This was exactly what her spirits needed. The voice she had been dying to hear grovel and beg.

“Well, well. Hello Toney. I got one of them with me right now,” Sienna said with a triumphant chuckle. She hoped the sense of victory in her voice oozed right into Tone's wounded, defeated pride. Dash was already perked up before she held the phone up to him. “Say hi to the daddy that forgot about you.”

“Dad?! Dad whatever you gotta do, just do it and get me and Dawn outta here!” As his volume raised, so did the irritation in his throat before he was cut off by another loud cough. “I haven't heard from Dawn in weeks. We've been here long enough, we gotta get her out! Just do it!” He couldn't hear his dad respond before Sienna put the phone back to her ear, thanks to the racking coughing fit that doubled him over. He didn't even know if there was a response to listen to.

“See? He's alive,” Sienna sang into the phone. “No thanks to you. It's been damn near a month now and you've done nothing to try and get your kids back? Not even a whisper from you, just your cronies. It's almost like you want your kids to die. Don't blame you, your son is annoying as hell.”

“I see,” Tone said. If any of Sienna's attempts to get under his skin worked, he didn't show it. He was still in negotiation mode. It was the complete opposite of Dash's silent panic. “And what, may I ask, are you planning on doing with him and my daughter?”

“Oh Toney. I don't want anything but to see your nice little family reunited. But others in the White Fang? Well, they have a looooot of plans involving your children. So what happens is entirely dependent on what you do next.”

“So what do you want from me?” Tone asked. Sienna found his unwavering stony demeanor disappointing. She really wanted to hear one of Remnant's most powerful oppressors pleading at her feet for mercy, not acting like he was trying to get her to cut to the chase. But, that didn't stop her from letting out a hellish cackle.

“What I want? Your obituary,” she said. Again, no vocal response. She wished she could see the face on the other end of the call. “But we'll settle for some reparations. To pay us back for the trouble we went through getting little Dawn and Spicy, you will transfer five million lien to a specified bank account. Once the payment is received, we'll provide you their location and you can head back to your cute little estate or take a vacation to some private island to destress, whatever rich people do, I dunno. So, we got a deal?” 

There was a pause. A long pause. The seconds ticked by long past uncomfortable lengths. Sienna tapped her foot impatiently before silently scowling. “C'mon, clock's ticking Ospreay. Otherwise that begging you heard will be the last words you'll ever hear from your son. I know you got enough brain cells in that dying skull of yours to know how blackmail works, so why don't you-”

“You're a fucking idiot.” Sienna's eyes flared with shocked anger as she slowly stared at the phone, only to be met with the call runtime. Her eyes then shot at Dash as if looking for an explanation. But he merely shrugged, alarmed and lost. “It's obvious I've worked in this world longer than you have. You're out of your depths. I have been working to make sure you are fucking sorry for ever stepping foot in my home, you stupid, pathetic mutt!”

“Ooooooh mutt, that's a new one. I don't know, I enjoyed stomping my muddy feet all over your clean floor. Might have to do it again some time,” Sienna replied, stubbornly refusing to let him shake her confidence. Her disobedience knew no bounds. “And for being so full of shit, now your kids cost ten million.” Dash's eyes widened at Sienna's gall, silently mouthing his worry even though it fell on “deaf” ears. There was another pause.

“Bold. I would almost commend you. Almost. You see, I have a reputation to uphold. My business is a stalwart amongst Atlas. If I didn't hold myself to being a beacon of strength and consistency, then who knows what else in Atlas could fall? So with talk of this renegade ‘bounty hunter’ coming onto my property and making off with my kids without consequence, that would most certainly be a sign of weakness.” Another pause, though this one shorter and much more tolerable, until uttering just two more icy words.

“Sienna Umberon.”

Sienna's ears instantly pinned back. For once, her body went cold. Even her blood was frozen with fear in her veins. She glared at the phone as if he could see her through it. Then she spun around looking at every corner of the room. Was something bugged? But, not even the piercings or mismatching eyes would give her away to him. “How the fuck does he know that?!”

“It's that reputation I wanna destroy. Remember, do anything too brash and I'll start sending you back your kids IKEA style.” Sienna refused to acknowledge he nailed her identity. However, the threat that had Dash keeping a grateful eye on all ten of his fingers in his cell only produced a light chuckle from his father.

“I see you haven't grasped the gravity of the situation. You think I'm still bluffing.” The phone dinged in her ear loud enough where she had to tilt her head away from it. The notification was a text message. It was a picture from the night of the Ospreay raid taken from under a table by a frightened partygoer of Sienna sauntering right to Tone's face. “I know who you are. I know your marks.” Two more messages came in quick succession, kicking the first photo she was still studying up the screen. The first one was a screenshot from the Vytal Festival TV feed of Team JASR lined up for their first round match. One of Sienna’s hands was on Amber’s shoulder to ease her anxiety from the massive crowd while the other was claws out, ready to fight. The second came from a social media account that set off sirens in her head - DownTheFoxxhole. It was Alex’s account, and the picture was a selfie her brother took of them. “And I know who you hold close.”

Sienna grit her teeth and made sure to turn her head away so Tone couldn’t hear her seething. Her tail flicked sparks in every direction. The next sound the phone made caused Sienna to cock back like she was going to spike it, but instead of more “evidence” it was just an excessive heat warning. She grabbed a bottle to unload her semblance in order to spare the phone. All this time he was simply building a case. This wasn’t life or death to Tone. Nothing could be to a man who thought he was the definition of untouchable. This was just another trial in a litany of defense cases against himself, except this time he didn’t need the skeezy but insanely skilled lawyer the Schnees gifted him upon forming their alliance.

“So you will return my children,” he went on, “or I will make sure these photos end up on every scroll in Remnant. It would merely take a couple of phone calls. I’m sure every news station would want to have the inside scoop on the identity of this kidnapper that has captivated their headlines.”

“I know you’re not bluffing. I’m not fucking stupid! Congrats, you and your little bootlickers can use the internet.” Sienna could no longer play cool and stifle her resentment. The stress relief bottle was getting softer, melting and sagging where it touched her palm.

“I’m sure you have enough dying brain cells to understand how blackmail works. So, do we have an understanding, Miss Umberon?” Tone said. His self-satisfaction came effortlessly, and it was enough to stop Sienna’s heart due to the fury it was causing. She didn’t come this far to back down now.

“Shut down everything you run, make a public announcement acknowledging the number of faunus you’ve killed and endangered for the sake of money, and never go into business again. Then we’ll have an understanding.”

“Fuck…” Sienna said, barely anything more than an emotion riddled sigh. She pressed her clenched fists to her forehead until no amount of aspirin would make this headache go away easily. She closed her eyes. She wanted to cry. She wanted to punch something. She wanted to burn the whole world down and start something new in its ashes. Something alone. But instead, all she could do is scream. “FUCK! I’M GONNA KILL HIM. I'M GONNA SO KILL HIM!”

“Hm,” Tone hummed, unmoved. “Speak with your higher ups. I have a feeling I will be hearing from you very soon. And remember, if you cross my deal, I will make sure to personally bash that blonde little faggot’s head in and mount his tail on my wall.” It was a good thing the “negotiation” was over because that was the last thing that phone would ever do. Smoke and sparks poured out of it before Sienna finally sent it hurtling into the concrete. Whatever parts weren’t liquified bounced and shattered into pieces.

“What the hell happened?? Is he paying the ransom or what?” Dash finally worked up the courage to make his presence known again. Sienna paid him zero attention. She was too busy going back to pacing the floor again, now at double time thanks to the frenzy she had worked herself into. She was kicking aside pieces of broken phone as she did so. “Sienna, what happened?” Dash called again louder to get through her mumbling of wanting to kill him over and over again.

“No! Your daddy is too worried about his precious bottom line! Is that what you wanna hear? I was fucking right and you didn’t wanna listen! That’s the reason you’ve been left here to rot for weeks!”

“Quit with the bullshit already and just tell me what happened!” Dash said. To his heartbreak, there was no snarky comment, no shit eating grin, no teasing at his expense. Only a deadpan stare as she pushed her hair aside with a glowing red arm, the same as Dash's. His sternness trailed off. “You're… you're not joking.” His heart sank. His eyes widened before glazing over into a blank stare. He knew Sienna's asking price was steep, but still easily affordable for Ospreay Industries. So to be stuck in this hell with seemingly no end, and left to wonder what his sister has been going through. Did the money really matter that much? Was his dad's pride really that important to him? “What did he actually say?”

“That he's gonna make me regret breaking into your house, crap like that. Nothing about ‘saving’ you and Dawn. He's just focusing on blackmailing me.”

“And how’s he planning on doing that?” Dash inquired. No reply from the bent over fox faunus as she searched for her next dose of firewater for her nerves. “C’mon Sienna you gotta suck it up and use your words!”

“It’s for me to know and for you to find out at the side of your dad’s deathbed! Sorry I’m just full of disappointments for you today, Strawberry Shortcake,” she said without turning around. Then she mumbled on to no one besides herself in particular. “Typical medic bullshit, telling me to slow up, she better not have hid it.”

“Lemme guess,” Dash said after a moment of contemplation. “Your teammates. Or your brother. Knowing my dad, probably both. He likes to be thorough.” The loud crashing and tossing of the cabinet’s contents that weren’t Sienna’s sole objective came to a sudden stop.

“Lucky guess,” she grumbled.

“It’s not much of a guess. You only like four people, Sienna.” She finally spun around, causing Dash to recoil, until she saw the smile on her face at finding the bottle she had been yearning for. 

“That’s not true! … It’s five people. Leo’s a cool brother-in-law,” she said, ears lowering a little.

“Wait.” Dash’s stare grew far away, a thousand yards past Sienna inelegantly tearing off the top of the bottle. His eyes moved like they were calculating something, dots being connected. “If he goes after your team, then mine won’t be that far behind! Sol will try to defend Amber, and Sapph will help. And anyone that helps them, he’s just gonna go after them too!”

“Yuuuup. Glad to know we’re in this sinking ship together!” she said, raising her glass in a mocking toast.

“Sienna you gotta let me outta here!”

“Like hell I do! You and your sister are my only way out of this mess! I gotta talk with the High Leader. Ugh that fuckin pain in my ass. He’s gonna be pissed at me if we kept you alive this long and get no ransom money out of it. I kept trying to tell him the reward would make everything worth it. Now the reward is just keeping my identity safe. That bastard is gonna try and sell me out.”

“Our reward is keeping our friends safe! We’re the only ones that know what’s going on! We can warn them! I can maybe get my dad to stop, he might listen to me. But that’s only if you let me out to talk to him.” Sienna shook her head during his whole explanation, only stopping to down another swig. “Does your chain of command really mean anything to you if they’re just gonna view you as a ‘necessary sacrifice’?”

“And what about you?!” Sienna said with renewed indignation. “You’re the one keeping all your dad’s business secrets safe. You keep thinking he’s the victim here when he clearly left his own kids here to die! If you had just helped me like I asked and let me have it my way, he woulda been dealt with by now!” 

“For a woman who swears she doesn’t kill, you sure sound ready to murder,” Dash said. Sienna stayed dead silent. Not because she had a lack to say; there were a thousand words ready to spill past her lips. But, she kept them pursed shut. Nothing she had to say would’ve been worth wasting her breath on him. Instead, she closed her eyes and took several deep breaths to compose herself as much as the internal whirlwind she was facing would allow her. An uphill battle if there ever was one. But, she figured the last thing she needed was to scorch her insurance policy.

“You still don’t get it. You’re still blind to the world around you. Do you even know where you are right now?” Dash paused. He hadn’t a clue where he actually was. The only answer he could come up with was hell, and Sienna was the personal demon assigned to him. After going unconscious in his garage, he woke up in this cell. He couldn’t even guess what continent he was on. Sienna got tired of waiting for an answer. “You’re in an abandoned factory that used to have your name on it. Tore down part of the forest for Ospreay Industries’ latest state of the art crime against humanity. The White Fang converted it into something useful. Guess your loss is our gain.”

“Tsuyukusa?” The town name came to Dash almost instinctively. A small town in the snowy north of Mistral, where Atlas’ influence was stronger than their own home kingdom’s much further away in the south. No one besides the locals or the biggest of geography buffs in Remnant would know this place if it wasn’t for its lone claim to infamy. The reason Dash prayed he never ended up on the path to this town. He prayed he was wrong, up until Sienna nodded her head.

“You automatically knew.”

“I remember the headlines well,” Dash said meekly.

“Oh, you remember them? You remember the people that died here? Or do you only remember what dear old dad wanted you to hear while he was throwing money at his latest PR mess. Shutting this place down and relocating somewhere new for a show of “good faith” to get the journalists off his ass while in reality changing nothing. The new place is run the exact same way. And if the workers couldn't relocate with the factory, well sucked for them.”

The truth was Dash remembered this incident very well. He remembered all the headlines his father let past his filter, and this one was far too big to hide from his son forever. His dad would always explain how the headlines were always blown out of proportion. The papers were just looking for some explosiveness to generate more readers and get them riled up. He was told those same things for so long that he believed them, and he would spout them over and over at Beacon. All the smear campaigns, the threats from the White Fang, his family were the victims here. Dash could've and should've felt more victimized than ever with the beatings he had been taking while held captive. But, he didn't feel like his family were the ones suffering. Not equally at least.

“I heard it all. I even heard a few of the workers left behind from the move jumped from this very roof. That's… not true, is it?”

“Wanna see the memorial built for them?” Sienna asked, back turned and arms across her chest. Dash closed his eyes. He had always clung to that plausible deniability. If he didn’t see it personally, maybe it didn’t happen. But now, he was face to face with the truth he spent his whole life avoiding. He was living in it. It was all around him. Only a small clinking noise got him to peek in between his fingers without removing his hand from his face. A freshly poured glass of whiskey sat in between the middle bars of his cell.

“Figured you might need that right now,” Sienna said, still facing away. She was about to take her leave before Dash stopped her once more.

“Sienna. You gotta at least do me one favor.”

“I don't have to do anything.”

“Tell Dawn what happened here. Tell her the truth. She deserves to know.” Sienna sat motionless before her shoulders raised and fell with a deep sigh.

“Fine. And by the way, I wasn't kidding Dash. If it means saving my friends and my brother, I will make your father's skull my personal cup.”

{some time later}

Why was this so hard? It was just a White Fang captain having to tell the bounty she scored that her dad left her here to die. Not like it was anything she couldn’t have figured that out by now. And not like Sienna was supposed to care. No one else wearing her mask would. But, it still ate away at her as she rehearsed what she was going to say in her head at least half a dozen times, just to shake her head and start over each time. The damned walk there wasn’t helping matters. It was already long enough to make Sienna wish to sink her butt into a bean bag chair every time she took it; the dread was only making it feel longer.

It seemed like no one hardly noted Sienna’s arrival into the room upon first glance. Dusty was leaned back in his chair, his mask doing the job of trying to obscure that he dozed off for a nap. The typing from the fennec fox faunus sat across from him was too soft to stir him. Their double monitor setup illuminated pale skin, a sandy reddish pixie cut, and a pair of fox ears that were the only thing getting them to clock over 5 feet tall. Even if their head was plain to see and not buried in work, they would fuzz even the most attuned gender radars. Dawn was actually the first to spot Sienna, though she did so silently. She stopped scribbling in her sketchbook, which was at least a couple dozen pages more filled than the last time Sienna noticed it.

“Finally relieving us from our post, Captain?” T asked without pulling their eyes away from the screens.

“Not yet. Just came to check on the girl,” Sienna replied before looking around. “Where’s Karma?”

“She got tired of doing action poses for the kid’s drawings, so she subbed me in. Kept telling me I’d make a good muse,” Dusty spoke up, revealing he’s awake.

“Yeah, if the brave hero needs to defeat someone sleeping on the job, then consider me inspired.” Sienna rolled her eyes. Her comment did little to rouse the Tango Squadron leader apart from sitting his chair back on all four of its legs. She wanted to expect more from both of them while on watch duty, but she knew she wasn’t going to get it. So, she ignored them and turned to Dawn, trying to play off the fact her heart was beating out of her chest. “Still not gonna talk to me?” Dawn shook her head. Sienna was just hunting for anything she could use to stall for time, even though she knew she should just rip the bandage off. Why now of all times was her trademark bluntness failing her? Eventually, her eyes fell to Dawn’s book, which the young socialite had lowered from her guard without realizing. On it was a drawing of her brother, the #1 on the back of his jersey proudly - or a lot of times, arrogantly - bolstered on his back. But instead of fighting some goon in a White Fang mask vaguely in the shape of her or Dusty or Karma, it was a man armed with a sword and shield that Dash stood over in victory.

“Wow, you’re getting better each time I see you. You really nailed your brother. Who’s the other guy though, an original character or something?” In a jolt, Dawn immediately pulled it back to her chest. Sienna sighed and dismissed her own question. Conversation was going to get her nowhere even if the small talk did work. “So… I heard from your dad just now.”

“Y-you did?? So he’s finally coming to get me and Dash?” Dawn said, finally perked up enough to speak. Sienna swallowed hard.

“Um. Yeah. Soon,” she awkwardly sputtered out. She wasn’t technically lying. She knew in her head one way or another, this was going to end soon. Neither the White Fang hierarchy nor her father were patient enough to wait on this for much longer. But, she couldn’t face Dawn with anything more than a mere half-truth. Not even Sienna’s claws could match the sharpness of the truth. However, there was no bright surge of optimism evident on Dawn’s face. Instead, her face mirrored her falling heart.

“Soon…? Th-that’s it? All he gave you is soon?” she said. She hung her head, hiding her face underneath her bright red locks. “I… I shouldn’t be surprised. Why would I be a priority? I haven’t been one since Dash left for Beacon. And dad hasn’t pulled himself away from his work since then.” At first, her words weren’t burdened with the weight of untamed emotion. She sounded unsurprised, more resigned to her fate than anything, which honestly hurt Sienna worse. But as she kept talking, the cracks became more visible. Her words trembled as tears began falling and staining the artwork in her lap. “I-I’m no heir. But Dash.. why would he leave us? Why would he abandon us to be left with terrorists??” Hearing this from her gutted Sienna, and it even brought Dusty to remove his mask and look over with concern.

“Is that really all they told you is soon?” T asked with a disgusted groan. “I knew this plan was a mistake, expecting the capitalist machine to pay up their precious money. We shoulda just offed the two of them.” Dawn finally looked up, her teary eyes now filled with a feeling none of her captors and even none of her family had seen from her before: defiance. She hummed a crayon over Sienna’s shoulder, drilling T in one of their fox ears. “You brat!” they growled after a flinch before rising from their chair. But the moment T took a step toward the cell, Sienna stood up with her hand aflame. Dawn reeled back and closed her eyes, but her fear of punishment was abated slightly when she saw Sienna was glaring daggers at her comrade.

“You lay a fucking finger on her and not even the High Leader is gonna stop me from turning your ass into fucking barbecue, got it?! She’s my responsibility! And I’m gonna handle it.” Dusty stood between the two of them, lightly pushing T away as their cue to leave. He knew even all 7 foot plus of him wouldn’t stand a chance of stopping the fiery fox. No one outside of the deep circles of hell did. Neither of them needed to, however, as she stormed out the room, leaving no one more astonished than Dawn at her surprise savior.

[captaindibbzy]

I realise for people who have not been following me for so long they forgot a time I wasn't haunting their dash "my dad is getting weird shit off the Chinese" probably sounds bizzar.

Part of living with my dad is witnessing him go through phases, and some time ten years ago he got really in to Lazer cutters. While looking on eBay for things he got in touch with a company based in China that sells Everything. Just EVERYTHING.

They had something like 7 Lazer cutters just hanging around in a warehouse. When you order things from china it is exported and ends up in the UK it can not be shipped back to china, but by UK law they must accept returns of everything they sell online. So what do you do with all that stuff? Mostly it goes to landfill, but it needs to go somewhere first. You can't just ship it to the dump, and if they let you keep everything and gave you your money back it would be a bad business model.

So these Lazer cutters are sitting in a warehouse after being returned, usually for being broken but we'll get to that in a bit. Dad says, well you can send them to me, I'll look at them, see if I can fix them, and if I can I will. I'll sell them, and then I keep some money, you get some money.

Better than shipping things directly to the dump, so they say sure. He gets these Lazer cutters and for about a year our spare bedroom is full of Lazer cutters. And he does as he said, he checks them out, enjoys fixing them, or if they can be fixed he camabalises them to fix others. One I remember had a broken glass tube so the cooling didn't work, but it still had plenty of bits. He took it apart and sold the bits. He kept some money, and he sends the money on.

They get talking about other things in the warehouse and dad reaches this agreement with them where if they let him know they can send him electronics and he'll have a go at fixing them, and he'll sell them and split the cash.

Except it doesn't quite go like that. As mentioned they are Chinese and English is not their first language, so we start getting some Really Weird Shit. Memorable things include: a preserved rose, jewellery, a hammock with built in mosquito net, cheep lights (including one that has a hovering globe), and on one occasion a huge box of reusable physio bandages. Oh! There was the hoverboards. That was fun and also deadly.

Then one day they send us two pallets of projectors. I mean some poor sod in a lorry had to reverse down my very residential street to deliver two pallets to "the warehouse at [number][road]" which we are not. At which point dad gets in touch with them and says no, you can't just send me everything you don't want to sell yourself, or things that aren't electronic.

We have these projector's for years. We try selling the every which way. eBay, Facebook, giving them people. We saturated the local market with these projectors at a time when projectors themselves are very much going out of style as huge LCD TV's are getting cheep. We still have one or two somewhere in the house.

Things slow down for ages and we don't get many things for a while. We start getting letters though. Due to a change in UK tax law this company, which is more like a lot of companies in a trench coat, need a UK address to send mail to and dad does that. The letters come in and he sends them pictures of it so they can know what is said.

Then suddenly a few months ago they woke up from a hiatus that has been going on since the pandemic and started sending us things again. At first this is fine, electronics, things dad can fix. We've had half moon lights, phone screens, hair dryers, etc. Then the weird stuff starts creeping in again: the huge mechanical clock, the mirror made to look like a window. There's the very cute little kettle the other day. They sent dad a thermos for Christmas which was very nice, like an actual gift, not a return.

And today the rubber mouth with tongue that I do not want to Know.

I said above that most things are returned because they are broken, which is why they get sent here. Broken, dad fixes, then sold on. But actually most stuff that arrives comes in either perfectly functional order or cannibalised.

The working order stuff I figure people ordered cheep shit and wondered why they got cheep shit. Some doesn't fit UK regulation (the plugs on some of these devices! My god!)

But the cannibalised stuff is very interesting. Before we left the EU we'd get packages from all over Europe and Germany was the worst for this. People buy a device, take it apart, take out the part they need, then return it to the company saying the device doesn't work and they want their money back. Which they get, and we get the device. 👀 Sir. We see you sir. You cheepskate. Fixing things doesn't count when you're sending an identical one to landfill for the part.

And that's what I mean when the Chinese are sending us weird shit.

[shehungthemoon]

WIP Ask Game

Tagged by my favorite @deadheaddaisy 🥰🥰🥰 This is gonna get long... RULES: Make a new post with the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, and then post a little snippet or tell them something about it! And then tag as many people as you have WIPs.

blood red and sweet as cherry wine

sentinel fic

bucktommy electric boogaloo

recruit rewrite coda!

clintnat fills

on the run scogan

Untitled Document (3 of these...)

alex rider 2

Nowhere Achingy Familiar, Still Nothing New

k/w breakfast for gael

n4 scog

how they love x

exorcist october

Haunted

g/m dance reinc.

OLD GUARD

chouse christmas magic magnus opus

ONE BED DRABBLE FOR PROJECT BLUE BOOK

Now that the war's over...

gunfire and shaking earth

Ok there are infinitely more but I'll just keep it at these more recent ones for now! Tagging ANYONE that sees this on their dash, not sure who all writes fic so it's an open invite! & @mirabilefuturum @vera-dauriac @mihrsuri @scare-ard--sleigh

[harpywritesfic]

GUESS WHAT DAY IT IS! LADIES AND LAYPEOPLE, MORTALS AND IMMATERIALS, VAMPIRES AND VICTORIAN GHOSTS, GATHER ROUND FOR THE SECOND ANNUAL...

Today (October 29th) is my birthday, and to celebrate, I'm flooding the dash with Vampire Stephen fanworks! There'll be fics, art, and even champagne! (Kidding. I don't like champagne. There'll be cheese and pickles.)

I'll spam in bursts so no one needs to scroll past 20 vampire posts in a row. That's the plan, at least. If you'd like to be spared the madness, you can block the tag 'vampire day 2023'.

You have an open invitation to my inbox to throw vampire things (or other things) my way! Vampire tony is also welcome! Or werewolves or cats or anything. I'll even accept that cute vamp from baldur's gate 3. Ask me about vampire biology if you want. Send your vampire Stephen headcanons. Send songs I can put on my vampire playlist. Send anything halloweeny. Send pictures of your pets. Send bats or send Bats. Send me a functioning car. Send blood. It's all fair game.

Happy haunting, and stay spooky!

[professorlaytonpuzzlingprofessor]

Submission Box Open for Statements!

Hello Hello! This is a Out of Character post for the Eye Avatar Arc! A big thing in TMA(The Magnus Archives) are Statements! How Archivists collect stuff for The Eye! so I'll be opening the submissions box up to receive Statements from the other rp blogs if they so choose!

This post is for General Info regarding giving Statements, and rules and boundaries! It'll also include helpful links for general knowledge! I'll put everything under a read more so I'm not taking too much space on your dash!

So the nature of Statements are someone telling The Archivist about a strange or otherwise supernatural events that have unsettled or haunted them. These events are tied to The Fear Entities. The Entities, also called the Fears, the Powers, the Dread Powers, and The Things That Were Fear are, well. Eldritch-like Beings that feed on fear. So! moving on, The Eye isn't the only Entity from TMA, and You all should know that! here's a link to The List Of Fear Entities in TMA. It also comes with other helpful info that should help, such as how they can manifest, objects linked to each Entity, etc! (Note: The Extinction, given its nature, will not be accepted as an entity related to a statement period.)

Now on the rp blog front, I know we have. some batshit stuff, and aren't the most serious rp community around.(Understatement of the century) So I am not gonna ask for 100% serious juice and make you stick to what is on the wiki. So you guys can get creative! Have alil fun! I know I've already deviated from what considered canon for TMA. That aside, Here's some other info that should be useful!

Hershel, having the Archivist Status, can Compel someone to give a statement or answer a question, and have it come out clear and eloquent, while speaking the truth.

Events from submitted Statements do not have to be something that has been talked about on your blog! Use this as an opportunity to character study! or Write a drabble! go ham!

There is some overlap with each Entity, so if you're writing something for the Web and you notice the Eye has something similar! Don't Sweat It! The Entities have been compared to colors sometimes clashing, sometimes blending.

I will be posting these, So I do ask that you do use the tags i've put in the submissions page for the sake of organization! so if need be the Statements can be filtered<3

Happy Statement Giving! Send an ask if you need anything clarified and I'll do my best to answer any questions! Also I will be updating this post with a FAQ if need be! Good Luck!

[networksupported]

Toby, are you okay with me sending any of my muses to you? I forget who all your muses are so I'll have to refresh myself on them, but we haven't interacted in a while and thought I'd reach out!

@the-haunted-office

me, getting this message JUST as im writing a happy birthday ask to your guys:

AGDHD truly great minds think alike lmaoo

that being said, of course you can! i would've reached out sooner myself but i wasn't quite sure where i stood in the whole age section of your rules and i didn't quite feel confident enough to ask 😔-- no, but seriously, i'd love to rp with you again! i've been having a lot of fun watching your muses and their adventures and it's always nice to see you on the dash x)

pahaha. good luck trying to make sense of my muses-- even i don't know what's going on with them /hj no but if there's anything i can clear up about them ill try my best!

[maul-of-shame]

Ahhh, I guess it’s about time I introduce myself properly since we got that many peeps the past few days!

So, drumroll please…

Hi there, I’m Maul!!

She/Her, pint-sized with spite and snacks, 26, and a chaotic ball of energy with a dash of ADHD sprinkled on top for extra flair. I’m French-Italian (so yes, I can offer you both croissants AND pasta), and when I’m not scribbling down my many stories or doodling away (I'm both an author AND freelance artist), I’m in the midst of wrapping up my diploma—April/May graduation, baby!🎉

Now, here’s the fun bit: I’m either disappearing into the ether like Gandalf off to fight Balrogs, or I’m spamming your feed thanks to my hyperfixations.

Middle-Earth yes, middle ground no.

What gets me hyperfixated, you ask? Buckle up. I’m obsessed with mythology, folklore, Celtic culture, The Witcher, The Lord of the Rings (and yes, I watch Rings of Power), Hunger Games, all things horror and spooky (think crows, haunted forests, the whole gothic shebang), D&D (I’m a DM juggling multiple campaigns and homebrewing chaos left, right, and center), and honestly, way too many things to list!

My AO3 is Halfling_MadMax because, let’s face it, I’m basically a hobbit—lover of second breakfasts, comfy vibes, and all things fantasy and I'm absolutely bonkerz half-of the time.

Oh, and I’m opening a Patreon soon, so stay tuned if you wanna support my creative mayhem and unlock exclusive content (aka more fantasy shenanigans, spooky art, and maybe (totally) some monsters with aditionnal spicy art!).

Feel free to drop me a line or send me a meme!! I’m always down to chat, especially if it involves food, fantasy, or bad puns!!😏

I'll add a masterlist soon enough, I just have +80 texts I need to sort out first bestie! XD