#so they’re screaming in spaces not designed for that | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

honeyryewhiskey · 16 days ago

Text

BETWEEN HEAVEN AND DESIRE

angel!reader or dean's prayers save you from heaven's merciless punishment. the weakened state of your grace leaves you feeling a plethora of entirely human needs—and you're not sure you have any faith left in the home that crafted you to fight against those desires. warnings!! smut with build up 18+, depictions of violence, blood/injuries that heal, heaven being bad, body worshipping dean?, angel's first time. dean talks u thru it!! bc he would!! 4.8k words

It is not uncommon for angels to go rogue after too much time spent amongst mortals. So much so, Heaven has protocols for repairing a weapon who’s gone soft. Some speculate it’s one of god’s little amusements—create a fleet of soulless celestials, but leave just enough parts for something a lot like a soul to fester when touched by the right human.

It’s this paradox that plagues your mind as a dozen silver blades slice through your flesh and grace—again.

The Council surrounds you in a cold circle of judgment, their faces impassive, their voices ringing with divine authority. Each word of their chant strikes like a hammer to your heart: Traitor. Defiled. Corrupted.

“Do you repent for the sin of your attachment to the mortal, Dean Winchester?” one of them demands through the chaos of sound.

You want to scream, but your voice is lost in the agony. The angel blade—designed to kill—wields a newfound torture as each lashing cuts into your grace. Thick streams of blood pool from glowing wounds, as your knees hit the ground as strength gives way to pain. Withholding the tears that threaten to fall with shaky breaths, you cling to a lingering stubbornness, refusing to answer their demands.

This torment, their means of correction—it’s not enough to strip your wings or grace. No, they want you broken in ways you didn’t think angels could break.

Your response to their demands takes too long. As a result, a blinding light presses into your mind, and with it, flashes of Dean—laughing, swearing, holding you close after the darkest nights. The way his touch melted your resolve, the warmth in his eyes when he whispered your name. These memories are dragged out of you, twisted until they no longer resemble what they were.

They replay your time together, but in each retelling, they inject doubt. The gentle words he spoke now sound hollow, calculated. The moments of connection feel like manipulation. He never loved you, the light whispers, digging deep into your heart. He only used you.

You squeeze your eyes shut. “No,” you choke out, but it’s barely audible over the chanting and slashing.

The blades come down again, harder, carving away the truth of who you are, leaving only what the Council wills you to be.

“You were created to serve Heaven’s purpose,” one of the voices booms. “Not your own, and certainly not his.”

And then, through the torment, you hear it—soft, rough-edged, and impossibly real.

Your name in the form of a mantra, the beginning of a mortal’s prayer.

“Angel? I don’t even know if this will work, if you can really hear me... but I’m trying here.” Dean stumbles around his words, his doubt laced within each syllable.

Your breath catches. It’s a faint echo at the edge of your mind, pushing against the light’s mental invasion that’s trying to rework the fabric of your memories.

“I’m praying,” he continues awkwardly. “Guess that’s what this is. I don’t know where you are, but—hell, I just... I need to know you’re okay.” His voice falters, a pulsing pain taking up the space of his silence before his cuts in again. Quietly, like a bashful sinner in confession, “I miss you.”

The Council continues, oblivious to the sound of him, to the way his words infiltrate their illusions.

“Whatever heaven says—Angel, please, don’t trust them.” his tone shifts, fierce and treading on desperation. “They’re assholes, they’ll do whatever they can to make you be like them. Please, don’t let them change you.”

The tears finally break, streaming down your face as your hands curl into fists. His voice drowns out the Council, drowns out the pain, grounding you in the truth they’re trying so desperately to erase. It’s nauseating, trying to draw strength from your tattered grace. But the strain in Dean’s voice strikes your instincts, and everything inside of you fights against the light reworking your mind.

“I need you, Angel.” His voice cracks, “come back to me. Please.”

When an angel’s grace is weakened, it allows for heaven to remold the weapon like clay. A being reduced to material to work with. However, grace is the luminous silver line separating celestial from human. The more it pools out of you, shimmering amidst the red, the closer you reach mortality.

And the freedom of emotions that come with that kind of existence.

A tidal wave of remorse, anguish, fury, and desire radiate within. You can hardly breathe with the demanding sensations of emotion and survival. It’s consuming, and somehow—powerful.

The Council doesn’t notice the shift in you until it’s too late. The invading light that binds you flickers, then shatters as you push against it with every ounce of your will.

“Enough,” you whisper, your voice trembling through panting breaths.

They realize their mistake as you unfurl what little remnant of grace you can muster, searing their illusions away with a growling scream of defiance. The silver blades raise in their grasps, preparing for battle, as you rise to your feet.

But no part of you aims to attack, the only thoughts you have are of Dean.

“Stand down, Angel. You are not strong enough to take all of us.” one of them warns, but their voice is dim beneath the thunder in your chest.

You glare into their blinding forms, disgust written on their holy faces, chest heaving as your wings unfurl. “I am done fighting.”

And with that, you vanish in a burst of light, tearing through the veil with a single destination in mind.

In a blink, you’re standing in Dean’s motel room on shaky knees. The power you exerted to flee heaven has left nothing but a faint glimmer of grace within.

Dean is a mirage of movement, your eyes growing delirious from the draining of your essence. He catches your weakened form just as you begin to drop to the floor.

“Angel,” he says softly, his eyes raking over your wounds. Dozens of bleeding cuts, your clothes stained and tattered. The pain consumes you again, an aching cold taking over every nerve ending. His hand brushes bloodied hair from your face, his other arm wrapped so tightly around you, you’re sure nothing could rip you from his grasp. Not this time.

“What did they do to you?” he demands as your body trembles, clinging to the bits of grace that remain within your being.

“I’ll be alright,” you whisper, “just need… rest.” His warmth surrounds you as his hands steady you. For the first time in what feels like an eternity, the torment has ceased, and though your mind is a hazy mess of shattered memories there is one thing you know for certain: Dean’s prayers have saved you.

He hooks an arm under your legs and carries you over to the bed. With the gentleness of a man cradling a wounded bird, he sets you down carefully, his movements deliberate and full of quiet reverence. Kneeling on the floor beside you, adrenaline ripples off of him and invades your senses. The rapid beat of his heart, blood pooling his muscles on instinct.

You raise a shaky hand to his chest, but his focus remains on your wounds, fussing with the fabric of your tattered shirt to investigate their severity.

“Dean,” you whisper, but he doesn’t stop, your finger lift to curl around his jaw, “it’s okay—“

“Look at you!” he cuts you off, “why aren’t you healing?”

“I will, I just need time.” you murmur, dropping your hand and letting your eyes close again, “I can smell your anxiety, Dean. It’s—distracting.”

He scoffs, but the concern doesn’t unwind from his brows. “Right. You’re bleeding to death but it’s my anxiety that’s bothering you?”

“Yes.” you manage dryly, despite the moan of pain you expel as you shift uncomfortably, the injuries to your back are making lying down impossible. Through shaky breaths you sit up, Dean’s strong hands hovering your frame as you do so. His eyes are still on your wounds, the beat of his heart finding an impossible speed as you gingerly wrap your fingers around the hem of your tattered sweater, lifting the material to reveal the damage done to your body.

“What are you doing?” Dean’s voice is gruff, his eyes narrowing as he watches you shift uncomfortably.

A flicker of annoyance sears through, the intensity of it adding to your nausea. “Lifting my shirt.” your voice matches the feeling inside, your fingers fumbling with the hem of the tattered fabric as you give him a full view of your injuries.

“Why?” His tone is sharp, matching yours.

Your features contort with confusion, “because you clearly want to make sure I’m healing.”

His eyes quickly advert as he clears his throat, a hand running over his chin—something you’ve noticed he does when he’s ‘at his wits end’ as he likes to phrase it.

“Why are you looking away now?”

“Because you’re—,” he stops himself with a groan, a flat expression on his face as his eyes find yours, “why aren’t you wearing a bra?”

“Oh,” you look down at your completely exposed chest, “it seemed… restrictive.” An unfamiliar emotion prickles heat against your skin: embarrassment.

He nods, sighing as his head tilts, brows raised in quiet agreement. Your wounds remain a blazing red, skin working slowly to stitch itself back together beneath the bloody smear marks.

“See?” you remark, dropping the material to cover yourself again. “Healing.”

There is an anxious swirling in your stomach, one not bred from physical pain like you’re used to. The effects of weakened grace, the invitation of intense emotions feels like an uncomfortable itch beneath your skin.

“Uh, huh.” he hums, but his scowl mismatches the slowing pace of his heart, the anxiety he refuses to acknowledge, subsiding at the sight of your healing skin.

He rises to his feet with a huff, you watch as he disappears into the bathroom. A moment passes until the sound of running water breaks the quiet as he comes back in.

“Let’s get you cleaned up, and you can tell me which sons of bitches I’ll be ganking for this.”

Dean scoops you up again without hesitation, his arms steady despite your weight against him. You don’t have the strength to protest—not that you want to—and simply let yourself sink into his embrace. His chest is warm, the rhythmic beat of his heart oddly comforting as he carries you to the bathroom.

The space is small and sterile, but Dean makes it feel safe. He uses his foot to push the door open wider and carefully sets you down on the closed toilet lid, one hand lingering on your shoulder to steady you.

Steam begins to rise from the filling tub, the water crystal clear and inviting in the dim light. Dean crouches in front of you, his fingers brushing against your knee to get your attention.

"Think you can handle this, or do you need help?" His voice is soft, but the tension in his jaw betrays the storm brewing beneath his calm exterior.

You nod faintly, though your body protests every movement. "I can manage."

He stands, his arms crossed, but he doesn’t leave. Instead, he turns his back slightly, giving you the barest hint of privacy while staying close enough to intervene if needed. You peel off your torn and bloodied clothes with shaky hands, the effort nearly exhausting.

As you step into the warm water, a hiss escapes your lips. The heat stings at first, the water seeping into the raw edges of your wounds, but soon the ache begins to dull, replaced by a soothing warmth. You sink down slowly, letting the bath support your weight.

Dean shifts, his eyes flicking over you briefly before settling on a safe spot on the wall. He sits down heavily on the closed toilet lid, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, his green eyes sharp and unyielding.

"Start talking," he says, his tone low but insistent. "What the hell did they do to you?"

You hesitate, staring down at the rippling surface of the water. Your voice comes out hoarse, barely above a whisper. "They said I was corrupted... that I’d betrayed Heaven."

Dean’s jaw clenches, his knuckles whitening as his hands ball into fists. "Those pious bastards," he mutters. "For what? Doing the right thing? That’s what this is about, isn’t it? How you’ve been helping me and Sam?" His words dance around the truth. How close you’ve grown while working alongside the Winchesters. Something, an almost malleable energy hangs in the air between you two each time you’re together.

A line never crossed, words never spoken—but it has always been there.

You nod, your breath hitching as the memories flood back—the blades, the light, the voices that tore into you like barbed wire. "They wanted to... recondition me. Make me forget."

"Forget what?"

"Everything," you whisper. "You. Sam. What it felt like to care. They tried to rewrite me, make me believe your—friendship—was all a lie."

Dean’s face twists with anger, his fists pounding lightly against his thighs as he exhales sharply through his nose. "What gives them the right, huh? Because god wills it or some crap?" he says firmly, the words spoken in question, but you know in Dean’s book it’s more of a statement of fact. He doesn’t trust heaven or it’s angels. Well, all of it except you.

"I don’t know anymore," you murmur, your voice breaking. A lump forms in your throat as you consider all that has been done to you by the ones you followed, dutifully, for centuries. Your chest constricts in an unfamiliar pain, hurt and confusion finding an entirely new stupor within your heart. You reach for the soap, focusing on the movement of hands as you scrub the blood from your skin to think of anything but the pain festering within. "Your voice,” you being, voice at a whisper, “your prayer. It brought me back. You reminded me who I was."

He falls silent for a long moment, his gaze dropping to the floor. When he finally speaks, his voice is thick with emotion. "I should’ve prayed sooner."

"You did it when it mattered," you say softly. "That’s what saved me."

Dean looks up, his eyes locking with yours, a flicker of guilt and relief dancing in the green depths. "You shouldn’t have needed saving in the first place," he says quietly. "They’ll pay for this. I don’t care if I have to storm Heaven itself."

A ghost of a smile tugs at your lips. "I don’t doubt you’d try."

He leans back, his hands running over his face before resting on his thighs. "I just… I can’t lose you. Not to them. Not to anyone."

The weight of his words settles in the air between you, and for a moment, the pain and exhaustion fade, replaced by the quiet certainty that, no matter what happens next, Dean will always fight for you.

You place the soap back on the bathtub nook, the faint echo of the movement breaking the silence. Turning your attention back to him, you murmur, “Thank you.”

He glances at you from the corner of his eye, brow furrowed. “For what?”

“For caring,” you reply, a soft smile tugging at your lips despite the heaviness of the moment. “And you can’t say you don’t—I can hear your heartbeat quicken when you lie, remember?”

Dean huffs out a breath, the ghost of a smirk tugging at his mouth as he pushes himself to his feet. “Damn angel ears,” he mutters, though there’s no real heat behind it. “Come on, let’s get you outta here before you start pruning up.”

You let him help you out of the tub, water dripping in soft splashes onto the tiles as he wraps a towel snugly around you. His hands are firm yet gentle, careful not to brush against the worst of your injuries as he leads you back into the room.

Settling onto the bed, you adjust the towel around your shoulders, shivering slightly as the cool air brushes against your damp skin. Dean follows a moment later, grabbing another towel before sitting behind you on the mattress.

“Sit still,” he says gruffly, though the way his fingers work through your wet hair is anything but rough. He dries it with slow, deliberate movements, the repetitive motion almost lulling you into a trance.

The quiet is comfortable, filled only by the faint rustle of the towel and the occasional sigh from Dean. His presence, solid and steady behind you, feels like an unspoken promise—a reassurance that, no matter how broken the world might seem, there’s still a place where you’re safe.

“Looks like you’re healing pretty good. You feeling any better?” Dean’s voice is low, his fingers brushing gently over your shoulder as he speaks.

“Physically, yes,” you admit, “but I keep feeling things. Far more intense than I’m used to, because my grace is so weak.”

He frowns, tilting his head. “Feeling things? Like what?”

“Hurt, mostly,” you start, your voice quiet but steady. “And when we’re close like this,” you turn slightly, just enough to meet his gaze, “...desire.”

He clears his throat, the faintest hint of pink creeping up his neck as his eyes dart away. “I’m sure it’ll go away once your grace—or whatever—gets stronger.”

“No, Dean.” You shift to face him fully, the towel tucked around you loosening as your hands reach up to cup his face. It pools at your lap as cool air ripples goosebumps across exposed skin. His eyes snap back to yours, wide but unresisting, his hands folding over yours, warm and steady. There is a storm of hesitation in his stare, but he doesn’t push you away.

The faint scent of adrenaline lingers in the air between you, your heightened senses picking up the slight quickening of his pulse, the tension in his jaw, the way his breathing hitches ever so slightly. You search his face, reading every unspoken emotion that flits across it.

“Talk to me, Angel.” His voice is rough, his green eyes darkened with something you can’t quite name. His expression is soft but insistent, pressing you for more than just what your senses can tell you. “Don’t just sense me out. Talk to me.”

Your thumbs brush over the scruff of his jaw as you take a shaky breath. “The desire I feel has always been there. I’ve ignored it, buried it, pretended it wasn’t real. Because that’s what I’m supposed to do. But now…” Your voice wavers, but your resolve doesn’t. “Now I can’t just ignore it anymore. I need to give in.”

The words hang in the air between you, heavy and electric, and you watch as Dean’s expression shifts. His lips part as if to speak, but he hesitates, the tension crackling like a live wire between you. His hands tighten slightly over yours, grounding you, even as his restraint begins to waver.

“You don’t even know what you’re asking for,” his voice is low and cautious, like he’s trying to hold himself back.

“Yes, I do, Dean.” Your eyes lock with his, unwavering. “I may not be human, but I am not naive. And I know what I want.”

His fingertips curl into your hands, as if a tightened grip could still the rapid pacing of his pulse. Your stare is intense, boring into his jade irises. Searching for salvation in a new religion, one that might promise more pleasure than pain.

He huffs, a small smirk tugging at his lips despite himself. “Don’t you think fleeing Heaven was enough trouble for one day, little bird?”

You grin, tilting your head playfully. “Trouble’s never in short supply with you around, Dean.”

An exchange of breaths passes the divide, but it’s Dean who moves first. His lips capture yours in a kiss that electrifies every inch of your skin. His hands find your waist, fingers digging into sore muscles—making you gasp at the intoxicating sensation of hurt and relief.

Your lips match his pace, slow and controlled. You pull him closer with your hands on his neck, his body following yours to lie against the old motel sheets. He pulls away, his shirt coming off in one swift movement before he’s back to your lips.

You’ve never been more grateful to feel. Every press of his bare chest on yours thickens the heat claiming the reign of your core. And the deep, primal, desire to cling to him has your nails digging into his flesh. He groans as they do, the sound making you kiss him harder.

His lips trail down from yours to neck, giving ample attention to every spot he tugs into his mouth. One of his hands drag down your naval, fingers exploring new territory until they find your slick folds—plunging into flesh as something between a gasp and moan escapes you.

You’ve never been intimate before, and you’ve always wondered if it felt like possession. An invasive, vulnerable thing. But this—the way his fingers pump in and out—is like being unwound. Every stress and pain you’ve ever felt, untangling in the haze of Dean’s touch.

His eyes find yours, emerald peering through lashes, “you are the only damn thing heaven could ever get me to worship.” He whispers and it sends a shiver through you, the pressure of his thumb against your clit making you shudder beneath him.

“That,” you mumble through shaky breaths, “would be blasphemy.”

His stubble grazes you as you feel every note of his chuckle vibrate against your skin. His lips trail kisses down your body with a deliberate slowness. His fingers don’t cease, working you with ease as he sinks lower.

You grasp for anything—the sheets in one hand, tuffs of his hair in another. He positions himself between your legs, his lips sucking on the sensitive skin of your inner thing. Your body takes over, whimpering and rocking into him as he pulls the skin between his teeth. Retracting, a red love bite in his wake as hovers over your heat.

You glance down, chest rising and falling in an uneven pattern. It’s like fighting, the way your entire body is alive with an instinctual awareness of each part of you. But there is no anticipation of pain, no need to swing first. It’s a tantalizing resolve, a desperate desire to succumb to whatever feeling Dean might insight next.

He exchanges his hand for his mouth, your legs clinging to either side of his head on instinct. It’s a rippling wave of passion that flows through. His hands dig into your thighs, grounding him as his mouth moves at an intoxicating pace.

You’ve never heard yourself make the sounds that leave your mouth now, damn near animalistic as you let go of control. Breath hitching each time he sucked sensitive skin between his lips, releasing and reattaching at a dizzying pace.

“Dean,” you stutter through a shudder, trying to wrap hazy thinking around the sensation building within your core that’s making your back arch, instinct telling you to push into Dean. A tight notch of unused muscles is binding beneath his mouth, like all the tension he relieved is back—balling into your core. You’re squirming for a release as he quickens his lapping and sucking.

All at once—your vision blurs, body tightening as his fingers plunge inside of you again, the medley of pleasure surging into you with force. The notch unravels, waves of tension releasing in hot ripples throughout your entire body.

You’re humming through quieted whimpers as your body goes limp, Dean pulls away slowly—leaving little kisses all over sensitive skin. He runs his hands over your body, soothing the little shudders that remain of you.

He brushes a few strands of hair from your face, his touch featherlight as he presses tender kisses to your temples and cheeks. “We can stop here,” he murmurs, his voice low and steady, his gaze searching yours as he hovers over you. “You’re in control here, angel.”

The sincerity in his tone sends a shiver down your spine, a warmth settling in your chest. But his words tug at something deeper, something raw. Control—a concept you’ve only ever understood as an illusion. An angel, a weapon, a tool of Heaven—control was never yours to wield, not even over yourself.

Your fingers glide over his lips, tracing the shape of the words he’s yet to say. “If I’m in control,” you whisper, your voice soft but resolute. “I want you to let me feel everything, Dean.”

He lets go of the breath he was holding, lips crashing into yours—a kiss to seal his promise. Your hands card into his hair as he fumbles with the rest of his clothes. The air that invades the space he leaves is cold and empty, but he returns to your skin swiftly, his hips claiming the space between yours.

He adjusts himself, and you inhale sharply at the pressing of his tip against your entrance.

“Hey,” he whispers, the steadiness of his voice melting any bits of nerves that peak through as he catches your gaze. “‘s all be okay, I promise. Just keep your eyes on mine.”

His gaze is soft and gentle as he eases himself inside your walls. Heat prickles on your skin, making you gasp at the feel of your body stretching around him. He dips his head, catching your lips in his as he sinks deeper. You’re gasping against his mouth, the sound meshing with his quiet groans as his hips rock against yours.

There’s a soreness in the sensation, tension giving out with each thrust. Your hips squirm beneath him, instinctively bucking into his movements, “You’re doing so good for me, angel,” he sighs, voice raspy, sending a shiver through you.

“More, I can take more,” you whisper, the words leaving your mouth without a second thought. All you can feel is a need for all of him—deeper.

He follows your command, his pace quickening enough to make your legs lock around him. His arm slides beneath you, a protective hand wrapping around the back of your neck as he holds your frame closer to his.

Your senses are overwhelmed by his scent—the endorphins pooling off of him and making you feel drunk on the smell.

In one swift motion, he pulls you up with him, arms wrapped around you in a heated embrace as you roll your hips against his—chasing the pleasure of his length knocking into the sensitive spot inside you.

His lips chase yours, a deep slow kiss that makes your hips move more desperately. Little whimpers leave your lips between each kiss, making his wandering hands dig into your skin with a desire to touch every part of you.

“Just like that—fuck,” he groans against your skin, his hands guiding your hips against his. Your arms cling to him as he lowers you back onto the pillows, his claim on your skin intensifying as his thrust becomes more greedy, needy as he takes control again.

His hands run along your frame, inching towards your breasts until your nipples are beneath his circling fingers. It makes your breath hitch, and that notch of tension forms within your core again. Your bucking his and nails digging into Dean’s skin are like an unspoken demand, and follows the cues you’re unaware of by sliding a hand down to your joined bodies.

His fingers work dizzying circles between your folds, your breathing falling uneven against his. Your muscles go tense again, tightening with each thrust of his tip against sore, sensitive flesh.

Tears prickle at your lashes as you cry out his name, losing yourself in the tidal wave of relief that flows through—leaving your body shuddering beneath his.

Your name leaves his lips, a quiet mantra, just as it did when he lifted his head in your prayer. His warm release threads inside you, coating your walls.

His hips stutter, falling into a lazy rhythm until he’s still. Breathing heavy against you, holding you in his arms for a moment as you both come down from the moment.

Sowly, he pulls away, shifting to lay beside you. Your mind is a complete sleepy haze, another new feeling for an angel who has never known exhaustion to the point of needing sleep. It’s a sweet, comforting thing—to want to close your eyes and give in.

Dean shifts, adjusting your body until you’re snug against his chest beneath the covers. His arms wrap around you, firm and protective, holding you like you’re the most precious thing in his world. Being surrounded by his warmth, his quiet strength, feels like a peace you never believed could exist—a haven you’re not sure you could ever let go of.

As your eyes grow heavy, his lips brush your ear, his voice a soft murmur in the quiet. “Sleep, angel. I’ve got you.”

speak for yourself - imogen heap album was on repeat while writing this btw. also i got lazy after dean's munch moment and did nawt re-read or edit the rest so i apologize <3 but i hope this was fun idk i kinda hate it now to be frank i d k ugh bye ily

#dean winchester #dean winchester x fem!reader #dean winchester fanfic #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester smut #supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #dean winchester x angel!reader

287 notes · View notes

fuk3d · 5 days ago

Text

A Moment In Time

Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff (?)

Warning: Murder, Descriptions of blood, Major character death.

Word Count: 1.5k

A/N: Hey everyone. I really appreciate the support you guys gave on my last post, it was really overwhelming for me even though it might not seem a lot to most lol.

Chapter 1: Happy Birthday | Chapter 2: Distant Memories

Blood.

Its smell is tang and metallic. Its colour is dangerous, fervent with connections of power, hatred, anger, and… death.

Blood.

A fickle thing it is. In the way it stains, no matter the material. It stays, even when you try to get rid of it. But you already knew that didn’t you, [Name]?

“[Name] you must stay quiet, no matter what you hear and what you see, stay right here, please baby. Mama loves you” Your mother would say to you, the last thing she would ever say to you actually as she shoves you into the closet, shutting it with a harsh push before hurriedly walking away. Away from you.

‘Don’t leave me’ you thought.

Your small form had curled into itself in the dainty closet, small tremors compelling your whole body to quiver and shake. You were just a child back then, hiding away from the sounds of glass shattering, minute fragments of it scattering onto the hard-wood floors. Furniture could be heard crashing against the walls, multiple gruff voices penetrating through the sanctuary your mother had called your ‘safe space’. The sounds of her broken voice breaks through the closet barriers whilst she fights viciously, for the both of you. Still, all you could think about in that very moment was-

When is mama coming back? How long has it been? Are they still here? Are they gonna hurt me too? Like how they’re hurting mama?

Your body couldn’t handle the stress, streams of whimpers and curt gasps escaping from your lips. You didn’t even know you were beginning to hyperventilate, your eyes blurred by the oval tears that had begun to collect. You couldn’t stop feeling, couldn’t stop hearing the sounds of struggling. You can’t breathe, can’t see, you can’t even hear what’s going outside beyond the closet. All you knew in that split second was that you needed to get out, smell the clean air before you went insane.

And peculiar, how fate works in its twisted ways; it's almost like it could hear you, begging for a somewhat momentary release. The noise had died down, and everything had suddenly just come to a…. Stop.

Silence.

No more were the sounds of screaming, yelling, and crying. Now, it was just you.

You remember that night so clearly, every detail drilled through your head in a never-ending loop.

And so, with much hesitation, you step out of the closet. Eye’s locked onto the horrific sight that had been laid in front of you. There lies your mother in a pool of her own blood, her eyes, like polished globes appeared lifeless, dead. You take a step, and then another one, then another, until you're standing in front of her.

“Mama?” Your lips wobbled, legs buckling under the realisation that she was dead. You drop to your knees with a hard ‘thud!’, pain coursing through your little knees. Red starts to stain your clothing as the colour envelopes your tiny hands. Fluorescent red and blue gleam through the apartment.

“Mama! Mama, wake up! The police are here, can you hear them? They’re coming to save you so you can stop pretending!!” You yell at her, attempting to pull at your mothers hand. Only to reel back from shock at how cold she felt. “Mama, why’re you so cold?” You put your soft hands on her own, feeling tears before it even registers in your mind that you’re crying. The transparent liquid sliding down your puffy cheeks, dripping at your chin before trickling onto the floorboards.

The noises of your grieving reverberate off the worn down walls, the shuffling of heavy footsteps can be heard but you ignore it, too engrossed in your own mourning. When the police arrive at the designated area that you were in, they’re stunned by the sight. In the middle of all the broken glass and shattered furniture, was you and your mother.

You’re hastily carried away from her, a sick and uneasy feeling growing within your stomach when you see people gather her body and shove her into a body bag.

What happens next is hazy. You fuzzily recall arriving at the police station and taken in immediately for questioning. They had asked if you knew who your dad was, to which you shook your head ‘no’, shaken by the awful tragedy that took place tonight. You think back to the two officers chatting to each other, just outside the room you were situated in. “Said they don’t know who their father is, poor thing. Must’ve been hard not having a dad.” A resounding slap could be heard as the officer scolds his friend with a coarse tone, “Keep your voice down will ya? You dickbag, they can hear us.” You remember their voices becoming distant, soft mutters of ‘Alright! Alright!’ became nothing but background noise.

After that, the police got you cleaned up before taking you down to a hospital lab, the people there extracting a sample of your DNA and swiftly sending it off for a paternity test. While they tossed you into an orphanage for a temporary stay. That's the system for you.

It had been 6 weeks after that night, and during your abode at the orphanage, you had become entirely numb, both physically and mentally. You didn’t even attempt to make friends, too wrapped up within your own head about that night, about what went down. You completely shut down and refrained from opening up until one of the caregivers gave you a letter addressed to you. A black wax seal with a big, fancy W was engraved into. Curiosity akin to a cat, you unfurled the envelope, eyes lighting up with excitement when you realise that your father was Bruce Wayne. After all the traumatic shit you had gone through, you deserved to distract yourself from all the bad memories that had been plaguing you.

Three days.

In three days, your dad (a word so foreign to you) will be taking you to your new home, where you’re safe, where you can sleep without any fear.

Three days.

Time seemed to feel prolonged, and it made you tense. You were so conscious of how skittish you had become over the course of three days. You just couldn’t sleep properly, couldn’t sit still at the thought of finally meeting Bruce Wayne, the man who was your father.

So, when the three day wait was up, you were dressed in your best attire (with what little clothes you own) and hurriedly made your way to the front of the orphanage, your cute suitcase in hand as a monochromatic vehicle pulled up. You were basically jumping out of your shoes when you heard the car door open, only to realise that it wasn’t a man who looked to be your father. Actually, it was an elderly gentleman dressed in butler attire, with balding grey hair and a pale complexion. Huh, how disappointing.

You couldn’t help but frown, struggling to mask the disdain as he stepped towards you with an air of confidence. “You must be the child Bruce was talking about.” Huh? Why did he say it like that? Where was your dad? “My name is Alfred, I am your family butler.”

Your lips stretched down into an impossibly deeper frown. “Okay… but, where’s my dad?” You questioned, awaiting his answer as Alfred cleared his throat. “Your father is… busy as of right now. He’s attending to matters regarding work. I hope you forgive him for his improper timing Young [Name].” Alfred dips his head, mimicking something similar to a bow while you poorly nodded at your family butler– Alfred. You stay silent as you step inside the car, Alfred shuts the door while he gets into the driver seat, the car's engine roaring thunderously as it shakes the vehicle.

You look out the window, eyes reflecting off the glass whilst the people and buildings blend in together. Gotham was such a dull place, monochrome colours mixing into each other. It was the only region that was able to turn its own people into vile, foul, and disgusting human beings disguised in sheep's clothing. It was the only region that could turn its people into villains and monsters. And it certainly had a habit of making the people with the most potential suffer a fate worse than death. Just like you.

Why didn’t my dad pick me up instead? What was so important that he couldn’t even meet me himself? What’s going to happen to m-

No. You shouldn’t think like that, you wouldn’t think like that. You’re sure it was just an accident, a slip up, a one time thing right? It doesn’t matter, as long as he’s your dad and as long as he cares right?

‘Right’ you affirm to yourself. Your confidence comes back, you're excited once again.

If I can’t meet him at the orphanage, I can just meet him at my new home, right?

You really couldn’t wait. You couldn’t wait to meet your new family and you couldn’t wait to see your new home.

“We’ve arrived Young [Name].”

@strwberryglass

End Note: Okay so I was contemplating if I should continue this further because I didn't want to start a piece of writing just to lose the motivation or interest. I want to do this for myself and not for the sake of writing for others (no offence). Anyway, thank you for reading!

Also, updates are going to be pretty slow since I'm starting school next week! So please hold on until then :)

164 notes · View notes

fermithesilly · 3 months ago

Text

everyone’s doing swap AUs so. (I’ll do Shelly and Dandy later, I probably won’t do the others tho. Also I’m not doing anything with these characters I just wanted to design)

lalalaalalal some info about them

Pixel & Cipu

-They’re connected to the internet, and you can search up stuff on them

-They love telling random fun facts! Pixel likes to share wholesome uplifting info usually to cheer other people up, and Cipu always ruins it with morbid reality

-Dialogue idea

Luppit

-He resembles the planet Jupiter -His name is a reference to Jupiter’s old name (Luppiter)

-Instead of telling jokes like Finn he’ll tell other’s Zodiac signs, teach people how to identify constellations, and yeah just ramble about space

-His head is floating

Rocko

-It’s just anthro Pebble..

-Mute like Flutter but can still make dog noises

-please don’t ship him with anyone

Roodo

-He isn’t as loud and angry as Shrimpo unless you anger him enough

-He’s a beetroot

-His character was supposed to teach children about how healthy vegetables are but he takes it too seriously and just comes off as an angry dietitian😭

-He’ll start screaming at you if he catches you eating a dessert

#sorry if this looks lazy I was in a hurry #I could’ve been WAYY more morbid with the dolphins dialogue #feel free to ask questions about them ig #dandys world #dandy’s world au #dandy’s world #dandy’s world vee #dandy’s world astro #dandy’s world sprout #dandy’s world pebble

238 notes · View notes

suzukiblu · 1 month ago

Text

WIP excerpt for tabetharasa behind the cut; "but it's weird that it happened twice". (( chrono || non-chrono ))

“Uh,” Superboy says, blinking his way too pretty eyes at him, and then Tucker has another sexuality crisis and also Danny’s mom yanks the door open and beams brightly at them. Tucker hears ghostly screams of undying rage coming from the kitchen, along with Fenton-ly screams of “TAKE THAT, GHOST!” So like, also situation normal, for Fentonworks.

Except for the superhero he’s currently bear-hugging on the front step, anyway.

“Oh, hello there, Tucker!” Mrs. Fenton greets brightly, then looks briefly surprised by Superboy’s presence. “Who’s your friend, dear?”

“Um,” Tucker says, then rips his hands off Superboy and himself back out of the other’s personal space and nearly falls off the stoop in the process. “Hi, Mrs. Fenton! Mrs. Danny’s Mom! Uh! This is–” oh god how did he not think to think of a fake name for Superboy, he thinks desperately, then just panics and goes with the first Street Fighter character that pops into his head–“Cam! Cam Lee! Friend of mine. My friend. Who is mine. We, uh, met on the internet? Cam really likes . . . cosplay. And . . . stuff.”

Jesus, how was the first character he thought of Cammy? Cammy! The clone of the evil dude, even! The clone who wears a leotard with a thong in literally all her most iconic designs!

Please, please let Superboy not ask where he got the name idea. Ever.

Mrs. Fenton’s surprised look immediately melts into one of those weird sappy ones adults get when they’re being insane and thinking grown-ass teenagers are being “cute” or whatever, and she folds her hands together and coos. Tucker has one perfect, crystal-clear moment of oh no in his head before she says, “Oh, that’s so sweet, Tucker! Jack! Say hello to Tucker, he brought his boyfriend!”

“Boyfriend?!” Superboy sputters the exact same way he said “pretty boy”. Tucker will never know peace again, he is now intimately aware. Also, apparently Danny’s mom is taking his apparent bisexuality better than he is, which is honestly just embarrassing.

“Oh, I’m sorry, dear, is this a crossplay?” Mrs. Fenton asks with a concerned little frown, then calls back to Mr. Fenton again: “I mean girlfriend, sorry!”

“Hello, Tucker! Hello, Tucker’s girlfriend!” Mr. Fenton yells cheerfully as Tucker catches a glimpse of him tackling their struggling refrigerator through the kitchen door before they both go rolling out of view with a series of obnoxiously loud crashing sounds. “Nice to meet youuuuu!”

Tucker absolutely, absolutely should not have picked anything with any semblance whatsoever to a gender-neutral name. Sue him, okay, his best friends are named “Danny” and “Sam”, “Dani” and “Val” are also things, and “Tucker” is in fact only slightly an improvement on any of that. Frick, even “Jazz” isn’t technically that gendered! There’s definitely at least a dude Transformer named that, if nothing else!

“So nice to meet you, dear,” Mrs. Fenton says, beaming brightly at Superboy. “Oh, aren’t you pretty! Love the hair, you kids are so creative!”

“I–I–” Superboy stutters, bright red and half-frozen, and Tucker will definitely, definitely never know peace again.

#dpxdc #data enkrypton #tucker foley #kon el #conner kent #superboy #wip: but it's weird that it happened twice #tabetharasa

136 notes · View notes

bogleech · 2 years ago

Text

Extremely long post about how you’re now allowed to erase your neopets faces (NEOPETS IS GOOD AGAIN: YOU CAN ERASE THEIR FACES.)

I have just learned that neopets recently added some wearable (neocash only though) items called the “be-gone cans” that let you hide different body parts, so there’s like eyes-be-gone and wings-be-gone.

There’s a lot of caveats (the mouth one for some reason is locked behind a gacha capsule, the “body” one only removes minor extra details from the torsos of a few species, they don’t all work on all pets and they don’t even work on the same exact parts of the same species in different colors because of how they were coded) but at minimum ALL pets can at least have the eyes and mouths removed and this alone improves countless, countless designs. For instance if you didn’t like some of the invertebrate variants stuck with the pet’s usual face, now you can fix it:

Same for the fruit and vegetable chias, they're SO good without faces, for reference here’s the mushroom chia with the horrible face all chias normally have:

Awful. Just ghastly.

Now you can correct him and make him good:

Look how fucking cute some of the other chias are this way:

This is a fucking game changer, I actually care about neopets for the first time in a decade because I can take their faces off. They were born for this. They were waiting almost 30 years to be freed from their disgusting foul orifices. “Help me, mother” they say, “I am cursed with a mouth and can therefore all too easily scream!” as their famous catchphrase always went I think. At last their salvation is here. I mean, look at this sad lenny:

We all know exactly why he’s canonically always so miserable! If there’s one thing he hates more than having legs to touch the earth’s filth and corruption it’s being able to see it.

Now he’s happy! He wants this!

And now he’s even happier i’ll bet!!!!!!!!!!

If you take the muzzle piece off the scorchio it even liberates their whole head from their neck as their god intended:

Legit though some pets actually make better serious designs besides the nudibranch one, like if you take the eyes off any of the (already badass) transparent pets you get their deep abyssal cave version:

Now look at some of the transparent pets with everything taken away that can be taken away:

The uni is finally almost unrecognizable as an equine, its life long dream

This isn’t like any of the dog designs in any of the silent hill games but it could exactly have been a dog design in a silent hill game, you know??

God bless whatever artist refused to give the insectoid Ruki a normal vertebrate skeleton so you can make this gelatinous flying space angel

But god bless whoever DID give the insectoid Buzz a vertebrate skeleton so you can make this HR Giger parasite embryo. Actually cannot pick between the two bug pets here as my new favorite neopets that are still technically available. THESE WINGS HAVE BEEN RETIRED SINCE 2012 OR I WOULD MAKE THIS PET:

#neopets

1K notes · View notes

absolutebl · 6 months ago

Text

This Week in BL - The Summer Games BLgin.

Organized, in each category, with ones I'm enjoying most at the top. Those Greeks did have that reputation for naked dudes rolling around together so I'm declaring it...

BL OLYMPICS!

I'll be passing out metals in various sporting events, as part of the weekly updates through mid August, just for funzies.

July 2024 Week 4

Ongoing Series - Thai

The Rebound (Weds Gaga) eps 9-10 of 12 - I guess mass murder is nothing next to having to raise funds for your basketball club. There were a lot of water sports in these eps (no not that kind). I’m not complaining. The street BB playoffs were fun. Frank is GOOD. I didn’t know he played. They aren’t using doubles for this. Meanwhile, it’s a bummer this one can’t be a poly romance.

Winner!

Gold in Handball

for that shower scene in ep 9 (also... ya know, DUNK TANKS)

Balls in hands of all types.

Briefly must chat about that intro/outro music. It's like Thai autotuned Stray Kids. Which means I kinda adore it.

Century of Love (Weds Gaga) eps 5-6 of 10 - I guess he’s had a long time to learn how to fight really really well. This is a fun show. It does occasionally feel like a bunch of gay boys playing dress up. I LIKE P’Third a lot. I hope he doesn’t turn out to be an actual baddie. I’m finding the music a little intrusive in these episodes. I love the deconstructed suits look, and the velvet blazer. Very 90s. The confessions scene was very cute. It’s a good thing Vee is so easy-going, because the last few months of his life have been truly insane. And now he’s queen of the castle? Still working his convenience store job?

I honestly thought we'd just get kisses halfway through not a full on sex scene. But it was very sweet and tender. Appreciated, boys, thanks. However it’s never a good sign when the sex scene is it at the halfway point, it just means there’s gonna be a lot of trauma to come.

(I gotta say every time Daou smiles he actually looks his age.)

This Love Doesn't Have Long Beans (Fri iQIYI) ep 4 of 8 - I like them now. I mean as a pair of characters. I wasn’t really sold on the main couple until this episode, and now I’m interested (yes I am shallow). The boy with the glasses is definitely sus. I’m quite drunk, thus I have to say Sailub is the hottest thing on my screen right now. Metas's taste in interior design sucks. OK, that physical therapy session was sexy. I wasn’t sold at first, but now I love this side couple too.

Argh. SailubPon kiss so well. Also COUNTER LIFT!!!!

Silver in Weightlifting

Sunset X Vibes (Sat iQIYI) ep 7 of 12 - I’m the one who always says this stuff, but this pair might be the best at relationship heat. Let me try to explain. They are good at putting on screen the kind of NRE, want to bone, just really into each other physically and also connected and loving. It’s the way their bodies always arch towards each other. They’re very comfortable in each other’s space in a way that’s really rare to see out of Any BL country but Taiwan. I think they might be my favorite couple currently active. I don’t know how to put it except that

it looks like they want each other,

it looks like they like each other,

it looks like they’re into each other,

and it looks like they GET each other.

It’s nice to see on screen. The plots/stories/narratives that they're given aren’t doing them any favors, but man they’re a good pair. Meanwhile, was I screaming the whole time don’t rip the sample of the custom piece? Yes I was. But it was still sexy.

Sam getting discovered was fun! Yo is gonna burn his arse good.

My Love Mix-Up Th (Fri YT) ep 8 of 12 - Okay! Officially boyfriends. I almost like the friendship btw Atom and Mudmee better than the romances. But they all so cute.

The Trainee (Sun YouTube) ep 4 of 12 - I hate the gf intern so much. I think she is past redemption now - time for death. What is it they say about ADs? they do all the work, for none of the credit but all of the blame.

Knock Knock Boys (Thurs Gaga) ep 10 of 12 - I guess Peak’s dad really is that awful. Jane is the beard? Got it. The show got suddenly quite sweet and complex. Where did that come from? Meanwhile ,Almond + Latte + sex education is awesome. Great trope we rarely get in BL.

Love Sea (Sun iQIYI) ep 7 of 10 - Look, what’s really annoying me is that I am neither upset nor pleased with the show. I like to be driven one way or the other by Meme. Trash watch here. (delayed this week, I can't face it)

I Saw You in My Dream (Weds Gaga) ep 1-2 of 12 - Out the gate I don’t like it. I don’t really like the teasing thing and the acting is poor. That said, neck kisses in the very first episode do make me happy. So I’m gonna keep watching. As for ep 2, I like the sides, and we have gay brothers trope activated. I also like the paranormal element, it adds some much-needed tension, but it is still a little slow (typical of a pulp).

Ongoing Series - Not Thai

I Hear the Sunspot AKA Hidamari ga Kikoeru (Japan Weds Gaga) ep 6 of 10 - I like our poor lost puppy slowly figuring out what’s going on. It’s so elegantly done. Also, the the boy begs his quiet seme to SAY something, you know he’s gonna DO something instead.

I could have done wihtout the pan around the head kiss. We over that, 8 years ago.

Takara's Treasure AKA Takara No Vidro (Japan Mon Gaga) ep 4 of 10 - Why don’t I like this show? I had to think about it quite a bit. It’s the power differential. I never enjoy it when the character with less power is the one doing the pursuing, it comes off as too desperate or something. In this case he is: from the country, poor, and younger, It just makes Takara’s dismissive attitude and snobbery unpleasant to watch. Also, you know me, =/= obsessive stalker behavior.

It's airing but...

Bad Guy (Korea YT) - yeah, erm, no thank you.

4 Minutes (Thai Netflix/Grey) ep... - Great, a rich boy studying business at uni, suddenly gains the supernatural power to see four minutes into the future. I try to catch up next week.

I have a source, but I simply didn’t have time to watch it. So sorry. Too much traveling too much BL to keep up with. A perfect conflation of conflicting priorities.

Meet You at the Blossom (China) - it's your funeral (or, more likely, one of the main characters'). You can argue but... statistics. You know my feelings on this matter. MY BLOG, remember?

64.media.tumblr.com

In case you missed it

The Time of Fever AKA Unintentional Love Story 2 (Korea movie) trailer IS COMING IN SEPTEMBER!!!!

Next Week Looks Like This:

Upcoming BLs for 2024 are listed here. This list is not kept updated, so please leave a comment if you know something new or RP with additions.

Coming Up Next!

7/29 Battle of the Writers (Thai ????) - trailer here, TutorYim return, and while I adore them, I really hope this is better than Middleman's Love. Won't be hard. However: the premise? Ugh. Something something authors fighting - save me. Why don't writers understand that nothing is more boring than writers?

8/4 Sugar Dog Life (Japan Sun ????) 10 eps - OMG a uni student who looks too young and a... COP. GAH. The subversion and kink of it all. Please Gaga pick this one up? They made it for US.

8/7 Cosmetic Playlover (Japan Weds ????) 8 eps - office romance around the makeup counter featuring a younger seme and sex by blackmail. I am intrigued. DFTUJ (don't fuck this up, Japan).

8/8 Monster Next Door (Thai Thurs WeTV ) 12 eps - I am so DAMN excited to see Big finally lead a BL. I can't even with this, one of my most anticipated of this year. He's a great kisser ya'll, he's kissed a lot of boys as second lead. I can't WAIT.

8/12 First Note Of Love (Taiwan Mon Gaga) 12 eps - About a singer with stage fright and his timid fan stars Charles (H4 the puppy one) and Michael Chang (the youngster in My Tooth Your Love), plus side couple featuring a Thai actor Jame (Koh in Gen Y) and Liu Min Ting (of Guardian fame). What a damn tean. I can't wait. With thier powers combined!

8/16 The Last Time (Thai Fri YT) ? eps - Convoluted story of loss and possible reincarnation or something.

8/22 The Paradise of Thorns (Thai movie) theater release - Jeff Satur is back but this does not look like a BL (the gay lover's death is the inciting event). More in Goodbye Mother vein. Looks dark and dramatic. He opposite and extremely well known actor Toey Pongsakorn who has never done gay before.

Addicted Heroin (Thailand adaptation) is also supposed to release this month. GIVE IT TOO MEEEEEE. I don't care about anything else but August back on my screen. It's been almost a decade since he did BL.

THIS WEEK’S BEST MOMENTS

This week's adventures in caption "out of" and "off" are not the same thing. This is an uncomfortable thought.

I'm so tired I'm seeing double. This is all you get.

(Last week)

Streaming services are listed by how I (usually) watch, which is with a USA based IP, and often offset by a day because time zones are a pain.

The tag BLigade: @doorajar @solitaryandwandering @my-rose-tinted-glasses @babymbbatinygirl @babymbbatinygirl @isisanna-blog @mmastertheone @pickletrip @aliceisathome @urikawa-miyuki @tokillamonger @sunflower-positiiivity @rocketturtle4 @blglplus @anythinggoesintheshire @everlightly @renafire @mestizashinrin @bl-bam-beyond @small-dark-and-delicious @saezurumurmurs

Sigh, Tumblr in it's infinite wisdom doesn't like too many tags.

Sports in Play (the jokes write themselves) )

Boxing

Breaking

(That's Not) Cricket

Diving (yes, for that)

Fencing (yes, with those)

Handball (exactly what it says, no, read the word.. again)

Rhythmic Gymnastics (obvs)

Squash (snicker)

Surfing

Swimming

Trampoline

Weightlifting

Wrestling

160 notes · View notes

hannyoontify · 4 months ago

Text

seventeen on a road trip

warnings | mentions of food, roadkill?

notes | i've been doing long distance traveling and camping w my family and acquaintances for almost 12 years now so these are js some characters i've seen LMAO

scoups

designated driver

will definitely go 20 over the speed limit almost constantly

but he’s gotten pulled over only once (he’s lucky)

plays katy perry and pitbull to stay awake when he’s driving at night

screams when he sees roadkill

ALSO he insists on finding firewood on his own instead of buying them at the local mart like a normal person

tends the fire like it’s his baby (he may or may not tear up when it’s put out at the end of the night)

he brings an axe. for the firewood.

oh it’s serious

constantly doing head counts when they’re out to make sure no one got snatched up by a tree or eagle or something

hates truck drivers with a burning passion of a thousand suns

definitely farts in the car and pretends it isn’t him

jeonghan

passenger princess™️

but he’ll be the drivers right hand man

constantly serving water and snacks and making sure they’re staying awake

doesn’t lift a single finger when you get to your campsite BUT THATS HOW ITS SUPPOSED TO BE

he’ll be shivering in the passenger seat and watching youtube while mingyu hauls the 15 person sized tent out of the trunk

but he’s also keeping an eye on everyone to make sure they’re doing okay

saved dino from a bees nest one too many times

definitely gets his hands on the aux

SNACK FAIRY

he loves packing snacks and passing them out throughout the trip

needs to cuddle someone in the tent

vehemently opposes hiking and prefers to sit in a field and wait for everyone else to come back

joshua

don’t even play with me rn he’s bringing an acoustic guitar

does sing-a-longs in the car and at the fire pit

and he’s good too it’s not cheesy and everyone loves it when he brings out the guitar

one time cheol was desperate to keep the fire going so he almost used shua’s guitar and that was the story of how cheol almost lost his life that day

SMORE MAN. don’t tell me this man doesn’t love smores

he n vernon would def teach everyone how to make smores

sits in the left window seat, second row. end of discussion. that spot is reserved for thought daughters and thought daughters only. FIGHT ME

he’s actually rlly good at pitching the tent

secretly enjoys hiking but he doesn’t want seungkwan to know that

jun

HE BRINGS BOARD GAMES AND CARD GAMES

always has a deck of cards on him at all times

he would def 100% bring cards against humanity and uno (this almost caused them to go home early)

makes friends with the wildlife

like one time everyone else is busy making camp but jun went missing and came back 15 minutes later with an elk at his side

“he said he’s hungry”

“junhui we can’t give ramen to an elk”

SLEEPS WITH HIS EYES OPEN IN THE CAR AND EVERYONE TAKES PICTURES

it keeps everyone entertained and he loves seeing the photos everyone took when he wakes up

waves at strangers they drive by on the road

last time he tried to help pitch the tent, he got lost in the fabric

hoshi

disney princess.

it’s like the moment he sets foot on the camping grounds, all the nearby birds and critters are drawn towards him

they loveee hoshi for some reason

plays ‘i spy’ in the car

“i spy…. something gray!”

“… my socks?”

also plays shinee music on blast and has his own mini concert in the car

there’s a group-wide agreement to never give hoshi more than 3 smores/marshmallows

bc that.. ends in disaster.

he almost started a forest fire the last time he had 5 marshmallows in the middle of the night

likes to play with the fire (we call it 불멍 in korean where you space out while watching the fire)

definitely farts in his sleep in the car

insists on bringing at least two tiger plushies to every road trip

likes to cuddle with someone in the tent

he also likes to play punch buggy (don’t sit next to him)

wonwoo

def 100000% brings a nintendo switch or something for the long car ride

one of the more quiet people on car rides but he always points out something he notices out the window

“hey look that horse is giving birth” “WWWWWWWHERE” (that was hoshi if you couldn’t tell)

plays along with hoshi’s ‘i spy’ games

one time he almost lost his glasses in a river so now he refuses to step foot near any bodies of water

likes to stick by jeonghan and observe with him

i feel like he’d be good at directions and occasionally drives when seungcheol’s too tired

always has his headphones hanging around his neck

enforces a strict ‘lights out’ rule and tries to get people off their phones when they’re sight seeing

CAMERA MAN #1

he loves taking pics and brings his camera everywhere they go

he dgaf if his phone is dead but if his camera runs out of battery, this man is devastated

woozi

i actually struggled a lot with woozi’s

cuz i’ve been camping with a lot of diff people but i’ve never been with someone like woozi

but

i think

he’s the quietest one of them all

tbh idt woozi would be the biggest fan of camping

esp where you’re roughing it out in the middle of the woods since he’s a homebody

but i think he would like it in terms of taking a break from the bustling city and enjoying nature

he would sit outside in the early morning and watch the sun rise alone

would deffo get inspo for songs

you can sometimes hear him humming little melodies to himself when they’re hiking

laughs the hardest at dino’s freestyle raps at night tho

sometimes borrows shua’s guitar to play something

i think he would like doing rec activities too tho

like rafting or biking

OR FISHING OOOOOOOOOO

he’s js happy to be there i think

the8

also one of the more quiet members

but he actually likes road trips because he likes to be in nature

he’ll be one of the first people up every morning

you’ll find him meditating, basking in the early morning rays in front of the smoking fire pit from last night

really really likes sight seeing nature

also if he could, he would def bring a travel tea set and make tea for those who want it in the morning

tries to make friends with a feral squirrel but failed tho

he took that personally too

sensitive sleeper so he tends to stay up late at night on car rides to talk w cheol to keep him awake and sometimes drives

mingyu

all hail kim mingyu because he’s everyone’s life saver

he’s in charge of almost all of their cooked meals

and he makes some damned good camping food

kbbq is a must at camping sites AND HE’S SO GOOD. SOSOSOSO GOOD

but he’s the biggest mfing scaredy cat

clings to jeonghan in his sleep and flinches every time he hears something in the woods

“mingyu go to sleep”

“but what if thats a bear?”

buys bear spray and read up on how to scare bears away

also has to close his eyes when they’re driving on mountain roads bc the cliffs and ravines make him queasy and his knees feel like jelly

cuddles hoshi in his sleep in the car

loves taking pictures of nature and the members

would def go dirt biking or something like that

likes to engage in park rangers’ q&a’s and info sessions

dokyeom

sings almost everywhere

in the car? he’s singing? they’re setting up camp? he’s singing. around the fire pit? he’s singing along with shua’s strumming.

like mingyu, he has to close his eyes when they’re driving on mountain roads bc he gets scared

waves to random babies he sees at popular attractions

he fed an eagle once. he talks about it every other month

CAMERA MAN #2

loves taking pics of nature

esp the sky

sometimes he sticks his head out the window (to the point where it’s illegal) to get a good pic of the sunset

loves loves lovesss stargazing

he can stare at the dark sky for hours, looking and counting each and individual star

seungkwan

designated tour guide™️

makes sure everyone’s sticking together

and kinda forces everyone to go hiking with him

side note: i love seungkwan’s hiking posts

anyway

sings almost everywhere pt. 2

their collective spokesperson

he’s the one talking to park rangers and campsite managers

likes to engage in deeper conversation with other members once it’s more dark and quiet and a few members already turned in for the night

pls don’t put him on the wheel he’s going to freak out

likes to sit next to vernon and talk to him on longer nature car rides

seungkwan on aux can never go wrong

vernon

has headphones on almost 24/7

even when he doesn’t, he has imaginary ones on

he has like 4 different headphones/earphones as back up in case one dies

the amount of songs he’s downloaded on spotify practically takes up half his phone storage

will randomly start naming all the diff plants’ scientific names

likes to look at mushrooms and plants in his spare time

brings like 3 different, separate snapbacks

vernon would most definitely make a killer smore

like he’s so good at roasting marsmallows

it’s the american in him ig

likes to poke at the fire with a blank expression

if you look at their group photos, he’s always in the same pose and facial expression

freaks out when he sees a bug tho and will aggressively do the harlem shake until it’s gone

dino

in love with everything

he’ll point out something new he sees every 3 seconds

thinks everything is so so cool

i love dino

anyway

would sing in the car deffo 10000%

yk like his drunk freestyle rapping he did in the beginning of nana tour? yea he does that at night in front of the fire pit

if mingyu whips out some kind of camping tool he’d be all “ohhhhhh!!!”

takes so many naps in the car and in the tent

always munching on something

likes to read up on pamphlets and info boards about history or science behind a certain rock formation or historical site

and tell the others what he learned, esp when they ask questions

likes to bring binoculars (idk js a thought)

one time he saw a squirrel sneak into a gift shop and steal a candy bar

but when he tried to tell everyone else

no one believed him

it’s okay i believe you dino

reblogs and feedback is always appreciated ^-^

119 notes · View notes

s0fter-sin · 5 months ago

Text

retired ghoap going on a renovation competition show

ghost takes over the budget and he's ruthless with it; tracking every paint swatch and piece of lumber down to the last cent, haggling for every purchase and making the most of their coupons. soap's in charge of design; he can visualise floor plans better than anyone, seeing the completed spaces in his mind when they’re little more than a steel shell

they run their site like a military base, treating their builders like rookies; expecting them to follow orders but also waiting for them to inevitably mess up so they can fix it

they're an immediate shock to the judges; they fully expected them to have no idea what they're doing, to have no understanding of style or trends, but they didn't sign up just for shits and giggles

they know how to hit a brief and can do physical labour faster than the actual builders. with soap's discerning eye and ghost's practically, they design gorgeous rooms and become a real threat for the prize money. they handle the stress and sleepless nights like it's second nature bc really, it is; a few all nighters painting are nothing compared to being shot at

they also take great joy in messing with the other couples

it takes a while for them to figure out they're even married; they argue like it's going out of fashion, never holding their opinions or frustrations back but it's their love language as much as their banter. you can hear them barking at each other from across the site; callsigns and “It” and “sergeant” thrown around just like in the field

the challenges are where they have the most fun

the day to day? that's work; they're strict, both with themselves and the schedule, never letting anything fall behind or go incompleted. but the challenges? that's play time. they love pushing the brief, toeing the line of the rules purely bc they can

they get to a two part art challenge and ghost's scheming before before the host even opens their mouth. part one? one half of the couple has to design some kind of art piece that will feature in their house. part two? the other person has to gather supplies and tools and make the art

there's a time limit for how long they can take to gather the supplies; once it's up, they can't go back for more and they can only use what they can carry themselves to their station. they're in a warehouse filled with scrap and paint and tools, the choices almost overwhelming

ghost politely interrupts the host to ask for a clarification; absolutely anything in the warehouse can be used so long as they can carry it?

the host confirms; anything under the roof is their's to use

ghost thanks them and steps back in line, standing at attention and waiting for round one to start

ghost volunteers to be the one to do the art, shocking everyone since soap is well known as the artist of the two of them. but soap sees the mischief in his eyes; he knows he's up to something and can't wait to see where it goes

the timer starts and ghost immediately shucks his hoodie and gets to grabbing; stuffing the impromptu bag with everything he recognises from soap's own supplies. there's seconds to go when he bolts for soap, throwing him over his shoulder in a fireman's carry

the other couples are pissed and call it cheating, trying to get them disqualified

ghost just shrugs, soap still over his shoulder, "they said we can use anything we can carry. i followed the brief"

soap just laughs like a mad man

they win the challenge by a landslide

everything's going smoothly, they've won enough room reveals that they’re in a good financial position, they’re ahead in their current room and in a great headspace

then soap gets injured

it's an honest mistake, a part of the roof they thought was stable collapsing and hitting soap

and ghost, always calm and in control, panics

he's on the other side of the site when he hears soap cry out and goes running; shoving past cameramen and builders, screaming to know what happened before he even sees him. he finds soap on the ground, blood dripping from his temple and it's too familiar; a thing he sees in his nightmares

he doesn't know what to do with all his fear so instead, he channels it into anger

he goes off on all his builders, demanding to know how they could be so useless and careless as to miss the unstable roof; screaming at them in a way he hasn't done since he was on active duty, tearing down a rookie for poor trigger management

all the while, his gentle hands tend to soap; checking the wound, if he's concussed, soothing him before he can slip into a flashback of his own. he growls at the cameras, doesn't let the onsite medics anywhere near him; he doesn't know them, doesn't trust them with his johnny. it's only soap's gentle convincing that makes him step back, that forces him to stop and breathe; glaring the medics down from soap's side as they check him and come to the same conclusion soap already reached

he'll be iust fine; a few stitches and he'll be right back in it

ghost goes with him to the hospital to get the stitches laid, abandoning the site to their terrified builders to look after. it takes a few days before he can handle them being separated again, can't even handle one of them going shopping while the other site manages

but soap doesn't begrudge him for his clinginess, not when he knows it's rooted in the fear of losing him. he just keeps him close and calls him his good luck charm when they win the room reveal that week

#new season of the block's on you know what that means! putting my blorbos in every other aspect of my life!#it was so hard writing this without using tradie instead of builder lmao #i love putting ghoap in real situations #like these guys arent normal lmao so putting them in something as typical as a reno show is hilarious #can you imagine ghost shopping for tiles? comparing feature tiles and splash backs and tapwear like its life or death #i just know production would hate him a little bc of the mask he still wears but they also know theyll bring in a different demographic #they also think they can spin the drama of these clueless soldiers who have no idea what theyre doing #just for them to be completely blown away by how skilled they actually are #i just know theyd weird people out tho even retired theyre still unsettling #theres just something about them that puts people on edge #that eases when they see how maddeningly in love with each other they are #just them using military vernacular to build a flat pack #soap still referring to ghost as his superior officer #i love them #coming out of my cage and ive been doing just fine.txt #we’re a team. ghost team #ghoap #ghostsoap #soapghost #soap cod #john soap mactavish #ghost cod #simon ghost riley #cod mw2 #cod mwii #cod fic #save post

127 notes · View notes

astrae4 · 2 months ago

Text

WARDROBE WONDERS | choi chanhee

pairing: theboyz’s agent!chanhee x agent!reader

genre: enemies to lovers, forced proximity (wc. 861)

warnings: hateful words towards each other, mention of guns and violence, they’re stealing things…

notes: forgot to post this in drafts…

more works: navigation | tbz!mlist

YOU’VE GOT TO BE KIDDING ME. You must have used up your luck this week after you found a five dollar bill under your couch and got a free pass to the onsen because you were their 1000th customer. You shouldn’t have passed that tiktok video saying that you’d have bad luck this week if you didn’t use their sound. (You believe it’s bullsht but you’d do anything to not be in this position right now.)

How else would you have landed a duo mission with Choi Chanhee of all people? The probability isn’t even small.

“Head out of the clouds, dumbass,” said the man, breaking you out of your trance, “Gosh, I wonder how you got chosen when a child has a better attention span than you.”

Ah right, you forgot that you were breaking into some billionaire’s mansion right now, trying to decode this fancy air vent door without notifying the whole world that ‘Hey! Two agents are trying to break in a house right now to steal some important documents!”

“Well it seems that this dumbass got chosen because unlike someone, they got the highest mark in the agent training program.”

You could practically sense his eye roll as you concentrated on opening the lock.

“Well hurry up, we don’t have all night—”

Click.

The sound of the vent door unlocking seemed to shut him up as you both put aside your dislike of each other to focus on completing the mission unharmed.

At the very least, you both knew when to stop spiting each other when the mission truly starts getting a bit life-threatening.? (worst thing that could happen was death, no biggie!)

I was silent as you both crawled inside the vents, and it was silent too when you both lowered yourself down inside the designated room.

Man, was this place screaming money. The room was huge—you think it could be the size of a hockey rink. It was supposedly a ‘guest room’ so it had beds and everything, but obviously, not everything is as it seems. This room contained many important documents (in hiding) and they had approximately 20 minutes to find it before security finishes their break shift.

Immediately, you both were against time to search this place.

It probably took around fifteen minutes before you saw a sealed envelope inside a hidden cabinet under the bed. You reached for it and smiled when you saw a red stamp. Yep, this was it.

“Got it, let’s go.” you said, turning to Chanhee. He nodded, tidying up both your traces.

However, just before you could open the vent door for your escape, the sound of footsteps could be heard. Both your heads turned to each other in alarm.

“In here,” Chanhee whisper-shouted, opening the wardrobe. Both of you immediately went in and shut it cautiously.

The door opens and you both hold your breaths. Thankfully, you didn’t leave anything suspicious. It only took a minute before the noise of a door closing could be heard, and the footsteps left alongside it.

You take out a breath of relief, before turning to Chanhee—

Oh, wait.

Only now did you realize your positions.

The wardrobe was SMALL. Like—XXS Bella Hadid small. (😏) Chanhee was under you, his legs shut together. His legs were long, though, so you could feel his knees pressing against your back as you were on your knees, both legs on either side of him. With no space between, you realize his hands made itself comfortable on your waist as yours did beside his head. You were so close to him—so so close that in fact, when you looked at him, you were only wee centimeters away from his face. You felt hot, and it surely wasn’t because of the temperature.

“Staring’s a bad habit, babe,” the said man whispered, a smirk on his face. You could feel your face flush as annoyance bubbled up your throat, but you forced everything down as you bit back your hand which was incredibly close to landing itself towards Chanhee’s face.

“So is being delusional if you think anyone in their right mind would find you attractive,” you spited, before opening the wardrobe slowly.

The road back towards the roof was quiet, as neither wanted to alert anything and risk themself to be caught.

Finally, you thought as you reached the escape van parked a few miles away from the mansion, I should enjoy a hot tub after this—

The alarms blared.

Ah, spoke too soon.

You hurried into the shotgun, same did Chanhee in the driver’s seat as he accelerated quickly. You could hear screams, security noticing you and starting to chase after you. Gunshots could be heard, as well as screams. You unload your gun to start shooting at them back as well. On top of all the chaos, the man still decided that he needed to get the last word.

“I’m not delusional, and you know it too!” He exclaimed in psychopathic glee as he swerved right sharply, “If we survive this, we will be talking about it.”

You could’ve just ignored him as usual, but why did you start shooting more precisely?

TAGLIST — @ja4hyvn @flwoie @sulkygyu @xiaoderrrr @ineedaherosavemeenow @lonewolfjinji @teddywonss @taerae-verse @kyusqult

NETWORKS — @deoboyznet @k-labels

#tbz #theboyz #chanhee #choi chanhee #fluff #romance #tbz x reader #chanhee x reader #choi chanhee x reader #new #new x reader #tbz chanhee #tbz chanhee x reader #chanhee x you #choi chanhee x you #tbz images #the boyz x reader

44 notes · View notes

msilwrites · 1 month ago

Text

John Price's Home

✨ John Price’s Home - My Sims 4 Take 🎮

Hi, everyone! 👋 Remember how I mentioned in the A/N of my last chapter that the house described was inspired by @eleu22's moodboard for John Price’s home? Well, I loved it so much that I had to try my hand at bringing it to life—in The Sims 4! 😂

For those who might not remember, the A/N was from Chapter 11 of my Papa Bear Material story. It’s the chapter where John brings you to his home for the first time to spend the weekend together as a couple. That chapter was such a special turning point in their relationship, and I wanted to make sure the house really captured the warmth, cosiness, and charm of John’s character.

Whilst reading this, I want you to imagine John Price taking you here 😈—his home, his space, his rules. Just picture it: the cozy fireplace crackling, the scent of whisky lingering in the air, and that intense look he gives when it’s just the two of you. Go on, let your mind wander to the things he’d do… because trust me, he’s thought about it too.

This is my interpretation of what Captain Price’s home might look like, from the cozy interior to the overall vibe. I was inspired by @eleu22's vision—their moodboard really hit the spot! While I agreed with much of their design, I also put my own spin on it, tweaking it to suit how I imagine the Captain’s space.(So it’s more “inspired by” than a full recreation!)

Here’s a breakdown of what you’ll see:

📍 Structure - So, let’s start with the foundation of the place. The floors are a mix of old vintage tiles and polished hardwood—well-maintained and perfectly worn in with years of use, especially after John renovated the place. The walls? They’re made of rustic stone and sturdy brick, well-structured and kept in excellent condition. Captain Price inherited the house from his grandparents, and during his renovations, he made sure to preserve its warmth and charm while adding his own personal touch. You can almost feel the history and legacy of his family in every corner, a tribute to the generations that have lived here.

📍 Living Room - Warm, inviting, and just the right amount of rugged charm—because you know Price would keep it comfortable but not overly fancy. He has a cast iron fireplace installed underneath the original one, something he added during renovations for practicality and efficiency. The room is filled with old furniture, lots of books, and pictures of his late family, reflecting a deep sense of nostalgia. Price inherited his cottage from his grandparents, who originally owned the place. He lives somewhere around Kingston or Richmond—not too far from Central London but close enough to enjoy the woodland charm of the outskirts.

There’s also a door in the living room that leads directly to the garden outdoor area, adding a touch of tranquillity to the cosy space.

On the other end of the room, you’ll find a collection of vinyl records, a player, and an amplifier. I can absolutely see Captain Price brooding on the couch over his plans with a whisky or bourbon in hand, maybe even smoking one of his nice cigars, as he listens to Annie Lennox’s “Money Can’t Buy It” or something from Tears for Fears, The Police, Sting, Duran Duran, John Waite, or Spandau Ballet classics. And when he’s feeling especially emo or introspective, maybe even some modern ones like Adele or Hozier.

Duran Duran’s “Come Undone” or “Ordinary World,” and Sting’s “Fields of Gold” or “Shape of My Heart” would absolutely be on his playlist when he’s in one of those pensive moods. (And yes, Adele and Hozier have vinyls of their albums, and oh boy, they sound so good!) 😍

📍 Kitchen - Functional and homey, with a touch of practicality that screams "This man cooks bacon in a cast-iron skillet." It’s a rustic space filled with lots of old items, including his grandparents' porcelain plates, some newer ones, and a vintage stove. There’s even a little porcelain chicken figurine that’s been there for ages—he finds it cute, so it’s staying. At the centre is a wooden counter island, usually covered in food, seasonings, garnishes, and maybe a bottle of whisky or two. This man makes a proper snack.

📍 Dining Room - The dining room exudes rustic charm, with another iron cast fireplace that doubles as an oven, perfect for cooking and grilling. Above the fireplace, a collection of herbs hangs, adding a fresh, earthy touch to the room. On the left side of the fireplace, there’s a sturdy hutch or cabinet, stocked with all sorts of fine spirits and selected wines. Next to it is a well-stocked drink cart, ready for any occasion.

On the counter, a cheese dome sits, showcasing a selection of his favourite cheeses, because this man is absolutely obsessed with cheese. Under the cabinet, there’s a collection of different glasses for various types of alcohol. Two framed vintage posters hang on the wall—one detailing British cheeses and the other offering basic cheese knowledge, both adding a touch of humour and character to the space.

An old chandelier hangs above the center of the room, casting a warm, soft light, completing the intimate, cozy atmosphere.

📍 Bedroom - A simple but intimate space that feels like a retreat after long missions. The room features a cosy, old queen-size bed with vintage charm. At each end of the bed, there’s an old end table. One holds a book and a tray of water, while the other has a tablet, probably for late-night reading or catching up on work. A dresser sits nearby, topped with a vase of fresh flowers and an old replica painting of a famous artwork. At the foot of the bed is a comfy ottoman, perfect for kicking back after a long day, and an old chair is positioned beside the bed, as if ready for quiet moments of reflection. A large window lets in plenty of sunlight, warming up the room with natural light and creating the perfect atmosphere for relaxation.

📍 Study - The door to Captain Price’s study is cleverly disguised as a bookshelf. It’s the perfect example of understated secrecy—who would’ve guessed that behind the shelves of books lies one of his most brooding spaces? A place for the Captain to retreat and get even more pensive.

Against one wall, there’s a shelf where his most precious drinks and cigars are kept, along with a stash of biscuits and cookies (because, yes, he’s got a sweet tooth—don’t let the gruff exterior fool you). All of this is strictly for his own enjoyment, mind you—no sharing.

His main desk, made of dark wood, is set up with the kind of tech Simon—his favourite, and let’s face it, only tech-savvy lieutenant—would be proud of. Simon installed a desktop computer, added extra memory and a camera for his calls, and even set him up with a high-quality mic. He even picked out a nice pair of headphones for those brooding music sessions, where Captain Price likes to sip whisky, smoke cigars, and disappear into his thoughts. And just for extra fun, Simon also set up his music app account. (Yes, Captain Price still insists on listening to his vinyls downstairs, but hey, he’s trying with the tech stuff.)

In the corner, there’s a telescope pointed toward the window. When the Captain wants to look at the stars (or brood about something—again), he’s got a perfect view. This too was set up by Simon. Why Simon? Well, because he's Captain Price’s favourite lieutenant, of course—or, more accurately, his favourite IT support. Remember that time in the game when Kyle asked, “Why can’t it be you instead of me going in?” when they were about to assault a location? Price just casually responded with, “That’s why they call me Captain and you Sergeant.” Same deal with Simon—though in this case, Simon got a nice haul of rare whisky, bourbon, cheeses, and, naturally, cookies, all for setting up tech in one go. And when Price calls him in for IT support, Simon always tries to act like he’s somewhere else, hiding from the task, but we all know he secretly enjoys it (and the perks, obviously).

Books. There are lots of books on the tall bookshelf, as the Captain likes to read—mostly military thrillers, obviously, but don’t be surprised to find a few spy novels by John le Carré or Frederick Forsyth hidden in there. The shelf isn’t just limited to that genre, though. You’ll also find a collection of cookbooks (because, yes, Price can cook!), fishing guides, gardening books, and even some on carpentry—because he’s always been handy with his hands. Atop the bookshelf sits a vintage typewriter in a glass case—his grandparents’ typewriter, which he keeps as a display piece. It’s a touch of nostalgia, a little piece of his past that he can’t quite let go of.

Next to the bookshelf is a small study table with his laptop. This is where the Captain taps away at his keyboard, writing stories in his downtime. (Who knew, right? Captain Price, aspiring writer, channeling his inner Andy McNab.) Maybe one day, when he’s feeling confident, he’ll share a manuscript with someone—just don’t expect it to be anytime soon.

📍 Garden/Outdoor Area - Lush, peaceful, and perfect for a man who appreciates some fresh air and quiet moments. It’s filled with trees, shrubs, and greenery, and there’s even a small stretch of the River Thames running behind the property—a little slice of tranquility amidst the chaos of life.

I had so much fun building this and imagining every little detail. I hope you enjoy this peek into what I think John Price’s home might look like—Sims 4 style! Let me know your thoughts, and if you’ve got your own interpretations, I’d love to see them! And if you’d like me to do one for another character, drop your suggestions in the comments below! 🏡✨

#Captain Price #Captain John Price #Captain Jonathan Price #John Price #Jonathan Price #John Price House #COD #Captain Price House #Price COD #COD Price #Call of Duty #Interior

34 notes · View notes

raven-at-the-writing-desk · 11 months ago

Text

I've been dreaming of the Undersea Marauder.

There are so many rules in this world. So many shackles to keep him down.

Let nothing obstruct his errant path.

How does a moment last forever? How can a story never die?

A fish is bound to the water his entire life.

It’s not a life for him.

Floyd is on his back, set adrift in the face of the Coral Sea. His hands cradle the back of his head, and he finds himself staring up. A flock of birds form an arrow, slicing through the sky. He wonders where they're going, what they'll do there.

Some merpeople dreamed of trading scales for skin, but Floyd thinks about giving up his fins for feathers. A pair of wings with which to witness all manner of strange things…

He chuckles soft.

Wouldn't that be so freeing?

“Eheheh. I wanna try it, too! Wait up for me, birds. Here I come…!”

Floyd rights himself and dives unto the frigid waters. His powerful tail undulates like a teal ribbon, propelling him after and faster. He steadily gains, chasing the shadows of the birds that skim the surface of his home turf.

Floyd approaches, lifting himself toward the shimmering boundary between sea and sky. A second later, he breaks through with a mighty splash.

His body elegantly arcs in the leap. He’s a skipping dolphin, a flying fish.

Free.

Floyd launches higher and higher, zipping past the flock. He collides with some birds, screeching with laughter as they spin like cars out of control.

Here come the clouds now—he easily bursts through them. They’re made of cool and fine-grained beads of water, refreshing him as he flies.

And higher still he goes, the sky dimming, a gradient of light to dark.

Floyd is among the stars, each twinkling like diamonds in greeting. The planets, like massive globes of sugar orbiting him.

The eel is weightless, effortlessly floating through space. With his arms, he paddles--and though there should be no gravity, the space warps and gives like water, letting him sail as smoothly as a ship after a storm.

He reaches out and plucks a star out of the cosmos, giving it a curious lick. The taste is like sweetened milk, and so he pops the entire thing into his mouth.

Then begins his descent.

At the peak of his jump, surrounded by the stars, he bends downward and plunges.

But there are no longer any waters waiting for him.

He crashes through a canopy of leaves. They scatter like papers, raining down verdant, brown, scarlet, tangerine, and gold. Sunlight pierces them, giving each a magical glow.

Roots come, skittering by him like a snake might slink. Thin tendrils extend from them, brushing his face.

Maybe there is some other name for them? Hyph-something, myce-whatever. Floyd does not care to remember his twin's excitable rambling.

Alarmingly, he spies an ugly bulbous cap poking out from a root. His nose crinkles with disgust.

Shiitake mushroom.

Floyd paddles through the fungi and plants, the scent of dirt and chlorophyll filling his nostrils. It's fresh and green mixed with damp and earthy, nothing like the salty smell of the sea.

Jade would like this, he thinks.

Daisies push through, their petals tickling his skin. He takes a shaky breath, holds, shakes again, and...

Sneezes!!

A great gale is unleashed, clearing his surroundings in an instant. Floyd is sent flying up, up, and away--

He shoots out of the dunes. Sand scatters from the force he emerges with, throwing particle clouds up into the air. Floyd flails, trying to balance his body. No use--he flops uselessly under the pull of gravity.

A scream rips from his throat. Not of terror, but of joy.

The landscape unfolds into a sandy expanse. In the distance, he sees an oasis guarded by palm trees. And below, a great city crowning the desert.

There are bright tents and stalls pitched, merchants hawking their wares. Vases and lamps with unique patterns, ripe fruits, adornments in a variety of designs.

Families and friends mill about in the packed marketplace, satisfied with their mundane lives, the schedules they keep. So content, so peaceful.

Floyd grins.

And he lets himself plummet straight into a stall.

The weight of him collapses it with a loud THUD. The merchant looks on, horrified, and his circle of customers gasp, putting distance between themselves and Floyd. Sticky with fruit juices, he removes the strand of black hair that clings to his cheek.

"Eh, guess it could be worse," Floyd shrugs, tossing off a chunk of watermelon sitting like a hat on his head. A line of juice dribbles down his forehead.

He notices the crowd staring and wiggles his tail in a casual pseudo-wave. One person immediately faints--but luckily, they're caught by a concerned onlooker.

"Riffraff!" the merchant shouts, waving a fist. "Scoundrel!! I demand compensation for what you've wrecked!"

Floyd rolls his eyes. He sounds like Azul.

The eel hauls himself off the pile of fruit--and peels right past the feet of the customers. The merchant's face heats.

"Guards! GUARDS!! Come quickly, HELP!! There's a sea monster on the loose!!"

Floyd rapidly drags himself across the market, digging his talons into the ground, his tail pushing him forward. He gleefully writhes as people scream and flee, clearing a path for him. His laugh, cackling.

He's at the waterways that thread the city when heavy footsteps spill into the street.

"He went that way!!"

Floyd doesn't look back before he dives back into his natural element.

The water welcomes him, its streams washing off the sand that paints his skin, loosening the hair that clumped from fruit juices. A tender kiss, a kind hand.

He has returned to the sea.

The channel goes deeper than Floyd thinks. It widens, becoming an entire ocean bathed in sunlight. A coral reef teeming with life stretched out below him, and when he runs his hand along it, tiny seahorses escape and trail bubbles.

He turns his head this way--a school of rainbow tropical fish race by. The other way, a band is in full swing. A carp on the harp, the plaice on the bass, bass on brass.

Floyd twirls as he passes, happily humming along to the tune. The music wraps around him, giving a warm embrace. He almost misses his name being called, almost forgets himself.

"... od....... loyd... Floyd! There you are."

A face that matches his appears beside him. He is followed by a boy with lilac skin, a series of squirming tentacles at his beck and call.

“Where did you vanish off to?” Jade asks. “Azul and I were starting to get worried about your whereabouts. Weren’t we, Azul?”

“I’m more concerned for the places he visits rather than Floyd himself. Who knows how much collateral damage he could cause unsupervised,” the octopus merman grumbles.

“Oya, Azul… Could it be that you lack faith in Floyd? Even though he has unquestionably served you since middle school?"

"You're saying strange things again. I recall him losing interest and changing his mind last minute more often than 'unquestionably serving'." Azul raises a brow. "So? Where were you all this time?"

Floyd flings himself at the duo, slinging his arms around their shoulders and pulling them close.

"F-Floyd?! What is the meaning of this?" Azul sputters, struggling against his binds.

"I was everything and everywhere all at once," he responds with a laugh. "I was as free as a bird! I'll tell you guys about it~"

"Fufu, it sounds as though you've been away on quite an adventure. We would, of course, be more than happy to hear of your escapades."

87 notes · View notes

grumfield · 29 days ago

Note

Omg u were so right about the space yaoi in wild space, just read that book in 1.5 days. Obi-Wan literally screaming for Anakin every 5 minutes?? Being THE whump damsel. And refusing to be a master to him anymore as per yodas request because he wants to boy besties instead?? And just enable his special boy?? Omg

And also daamn Padme! Straight up lying to Obi-Wan’s face and scheming for her secret marriage (taking it from lying by omissions to straight up plotting). And being soo resentful of him for telling her to break up, and also going ew don't call Obi-Wan my friend. Amazing Amazing.

And Obi-Wan is so pathetic. Literally stuttering and stammering when he thinks about Anakin in Padmes presence?

OH MY GOD RIGHT??

I literally love Wild Space so fucking much LFMAO it’s so completely ridiculous and it reads as indulgently as fic. Obi-Wan gets blown up twice?? And in that book he really is literally just the personification of sadly fiddling with the hem of your shirt and mumbling asking for something and then getting ignored so you just give up. Literally insane that it even was published because you’re absolutely right like Obi-Wan is basically just a whump vehicle designed to feel bad whenever he thinks about his boybestfriend…

I swear to god Karen Miller is a fujoshi sadist after my own heart because half of that book is just putting world’s best jedi in the worst possible situation (physical, mental) and following it with a delicioussssss humiliation chaser….

And literally he and Padmé are like the highlight of the book like they’re in an enabling Jakey-off and both know it and hate each other for it. No other SW author was willing to commit to the resentful sisterwives dynamic and I wish they had because it’s literally SO GOOD.

#sw.

21 notes · View notes

tashacee · 6 months ago

Note

Do you have headcanons for the Ancient Hero?

Mine are that:

he’s Rauru and Sonia’s adopted son. He is the son of a Zonai woman and the Hylian son of a Gerudo (which are more commonly then Gerudo voes). Basically he’s half Zonai, 1/4 Hylian, and 1/4 Gerudo. He gets his red hair from his grandma.

As a kitten he accidentally tore off Ganondorf’s nipple. How? Rauru was trying to give Ancient a bath but didn’t notice that he had attached himself to Ganondorf’s nipple ring, at least not until Ganondorf was screaming in pain. Thankfully Zonai technology reattached his nipple and the ring.

Zonai have two names, one in animalistic growls and grunts and the other in Hylain when they’re older and have a grasp of the language. Ancient never got his Hylian until he was in his teens and it was Link. He hated it because of the fact it was chosen due to the Triforce marking he had.

Ancient saw Zelda (Flora) turn into the Light Dragon. He was only a kitten then but he wanted to help her one day return her to normal

During the first battle against Calamity Ganon, Ancient’s back got broken and this caused Calamity to sealed rather than destroyed. Zonai and Sheikah technology helped him walk again.

Ancient is very intelligent and helped create the Guardians and other ancient tech we see in Wild’s time. I got this headcanon from @ninma

He will steal anything shiny. He created the Sheikah Slate so he can store his shiny things after he filled all of his hiding spots.

I hope you enjoy theses. I also to see more Baby Ancient soon. Your art of him is so adorable.

THIS IS SO CUTE AND COOL! I'd love to see more of your Ancient Hero.

I'm gonna talk about Baby Aspect for this because if I talk about the one in Aspects I'll get into spoilers territory lmao

His parents are both Hylian/Zonai hybrids and in his era this is very common, so he's used to seeing a bunch of people who look like him

that said, he's seven, so he just doesn't question things like appearance. Are they friend-shaped? He will befriend them.

Yes, this includes unsuspecting monsters. He is very cute and catches them all off guard.

He speaks fluent Hylian as well as growl-purr-cat-language. Some of the older generations couldn't, but it's become the norm for everyone to be at least bi-lingual

When he meows it's the cutest damn thing you ever heard

He was born a few years after Flora became the Light Dragon, and she's already been mythologised by his time.

He doesn't have all of the tattoos/markings that he will when fully grown, but he does have them on his face. It's a painless and joyful ceremony that welcomes a child into the wider community and marks them with their family design, and it's really lovely. He's super proud of them and can't wait to get older and earn more.

His parents won't let him get his ears pierced until he's 12 and he's SO MAD

He loves fish so much. Especially cut into strips. And fried. In breadcrumbs. Fish fingers, he loves fish fingers.

Extremely susceptible to cuddles. Will fall asleep in your arms. Also purrs in his sleep. Extremely sweet. Actual bby.

Also oooooooooh you want more Baby art? Ask and thou shalt receive, watch this space!

#it me #replies #baby aspect

41 notes · View notes

sing-me-under · 4 months ago

Text

Thinking about a fic idea from Dick’s POV about Jason taking his place at Bruce’s side except this is completely based on my own amalgamation of canon.

It starts when Dick returns to Gotham post-Deathstroke hoping for some comfort and safety away from heroism for a bit and childhood familiarity with Bruce only to find out that not only did Batman have absolutely no clue Robin was kidnapped and assumed dead, Bruce had even taken in another kid with black hair and blue eyes. He’s only had Jason for like two months apparently, and they’re already making plans for adoption.

Probably the worst part about this whole thing is that Bruce didn’t even think about Dick, the kid he’d had for almost nine years at this point, at all. (Dick doesn’t acknowledge Bruce’s all-consuming fear for Dick’s safety in the entire almost nine years they known each other. He doesn’t think about how Bruce’s overbearing, over controlling tendencies was Bruce caring too much. It must have eaten at him, not knowing how Dick was. Jason will remember Bruce’s ever present concern for the Golden Child.)

Dick can’t bring himself to resent either of them. He was the one who destroyed all of Batman’s surveillance, yelled at Bruce for trying to keep an eye on him, then didn’t even check in to let Bruce know he was anything other than dead or alive. Of course Bruce wouldn’t know anything that wasn’t always public knowledge. The kid also idolizes Robin, and Dick wouldn’t begrudge a kid out of a safe and loving home just because it was his first.

Dick doesn’t even try. He just goes straight to Alfred then leaves later that evening with a tin of cookies for the Teen Titans.

Some months later, Dick sees a Gotham Gazette article about “Robin spotted in Gotham!” with a super blurry smear of yellow, red, and green chasing after another blurry smear that kind of looks like Batman. Dick storms back to Wayne Manor, intending to bury the fuck out of Batman for letting his shiny new son use his name, only to find out that no, actually, the truth is a little more complicated than just that. Apparently, Batman got injured or whatever, and while he was on bed rest, some knock-off Batman was running around Gotham. Jason more or less grabbed a shitty Robin Halloween costume from some costume store (because of course there would be shitty Halloween costumes of irl heroes) and chased down the fake Batman. (I am so obsessed with pre-crisis Nocturna but I’ll hold myself back here)

Afterwards, Bruce begrudgingly agreed to accept Jason as a vigilante since this was like the third time Jason had stopped a crime all on his own (the first time being Ma Gunn’s crime school) and Bruce would really prefer Jason do crime fighting from the safety of Batman’s cape. By the time Dick saw the article and made his way to Gotham, Jason was still trying to design his own vigilante uniform and come up with names (his ideas are terrible). Dick is honestly so tired of being angry that he just sighs and goes “you know what, I want to cut all ties with Batman. It’s not like he wants anything to do with me either. Jason, do you want to be Robin?”

Dick becomes Nightwing, a kryptonian legend. Aside from the OG Titans and some of the founding JL members, Nightwing has no connections to Gotham and especially not to Robin.

Sometimes, Dick Grayson visits Alfred and goes back to Titans Tower with a bag of homemade food. Sometimes, he brings some soulless souvenir as a late/early birthday/holiday present for Jason. He avoids Bruce each time.

When Jason died, Dick was on a mission in space. He missed the funeral by a whole month. When he found out, he and Bruce scream at each other about shit knows what. Something about how he deserves to know when a kid dies in his suit with his name. Something about how Dick didn’t even care about Jason. Something about how it all was Bruce’s fault. Neither of them remember the words exchanged, but it ended with Bruce slapping Dick and the menacing silence that followed.

Things don’t get better. Tim appears, pulling Dick back to Gotham and saying “Batman needs Robin. He’s going to get himself killed.” Apathy buries the feeling of grieving a still living not-dad. He’s already crossed the stage of acceptance. Batman can die for all he cares. It’s not his job (not his place) to help Bruce.

Nightwing still gets roped into saving Batman from Two-Face. Tim still steals the Robin uniform and saves them both.

Batman looks at Tim. He’s done this song and dance before. He doesn’t even try to stop Tim and just goes “fine.” Nightwing thinks “I won’t let this one down. I’ll be a good brother, mentor, predecessor to this one. I’ll deserve to go to this one’s funeral.”

Bruce attempts to reach out one more time. Dick finds himself living closer to Gotham than he has in a long time. Undercover work makes his skin crawl — the blood on his hands never seems to wash off — but weeding out the Bludhaven Police Department feels almost like a vacation where he can pretend to be Dick Grayson, normal member of society, instead of Nightwing/Robin. (It’s the closest Bruce gets to being reassured of Dick’s safety.)

Life goes by. Dick and Bruce fight again and again. Batman and Nightwing fight side by side and back to back. Bruce and Dick stitch each other up in the Batcave and let bygones be bygones.

The Red Hood appears. Dick never really knew Jason all that well. He wonders if Bruce ever thought his dearly departed son was capable of committing such atrocities. Barbara says Jason had a darkness in him even before. She refused to elaborate further.

Bludhaven gets nuked. Jason disappears.

Dick returns to Gotham, to Wayne Manor. While he heals, Bruce sits at his bedside and Tim and Cass cuddle up against him. They’re just a pile of bats and birds basking in each other’s presence and the steady heartbeats that prove they’re alive.

Dick realizes that he hasn’t heard Bruce laugh in a long, long time.

Their life is hard. Things happen. Death happens. Life happens.

They’re all still alive. Somehow. Despite all attempts otherwise. Life has settled, kindly. Things aren’t getting worse. Sometimes, Dick thinks it might be getting better.

Dick sits with Jason at the kitchen table. They’re technically not supposed to bring mask stuff into the manor, but Dick is too immersed in this case to set it down while he makes a sandwich at 2AM. Jason is eating straight from the pickle jar. Dick know for a fact that Jason is only doing that because Dick can see him and he’s just being an asshole. Jokes on him. Dick is just happy Jason is alive and comfortable enough to be an asshole in stately Wayne Manor’s kitchen.

Dick doesn’t know what compels him, but completely unprompted, he says it anyway.

“I used to hate you.”

Jason doesn’t even falter. He just glances up, bites through his pickle, and deadpans,

“No shit.”

Dick can’t help but grin. “Yeah? I thought I was hiding it pretty well.”

Jason raises an eyebrow. “For my 13th birthday, you gave me a keychain from some NYC gift shop that spelled ‘J-a-c-e-n’.”

#personal #dc #batfamily #batman #dick grayson #clearing out my drafts #and found this #no idea where I was going with it #but feel free to read it anyway #jason todd #bruce wayne #dreamlessblurb

28 notes · View notes