#sometimes its nice to make a note that someone was out at some point because we get curious how long it's been between appearances

[solomons-finest-rum]

“Road Runner” (Johnny Davis x OFC)

Masterlist

SUMMARY — Johnny crosses paths with a fiery redhead who seems to live for chaos. She’s the sister of a recently deceased member of the notorious Vandals. As Johnny gets drawn deeper into her whirlwind life, they find themselves caught in a dangerous game.

AUTHOR’S NOTE — Holy moly, haven't felt inspired in a while, but then Tom Hardy graced my screen again and, well. It would be a shame not to play with Johnny some. I can't thank enough the wonderful @zablife for the encouragement to write this! ❤️❤️❤️

WORD COUNT — 5,284

Brucie entered the bar at precisely nine in the morning and put a stack of newspapers at Johnny’s regular table.

“Heard about what happened to Eddie?” Brucie asked before he even sat down, and all it got him was Johnny’s absent stare. 

There was a half-lit cigarette hanging out the corner of Johnny’s mouth and he already looked done with the day.

“What are you talkin’ about?” Johnny rasped, then reached for the first newspaper out of the stack to read the front page.

“Freak accident on the road to Skokie. All that horsepower, never had the chance with a truck and a buick ridin’ up against him,” Brucie said and shook his head. 

All Johnny did was he looked around and immediately there was someone up and pouring him and Brucie a cup of bourbon. They were out of the nicer glasses.

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ,” Johnny rasped and put out his unfinished cigarette. “What the fuck was he thinkin’?”

“Oh, you know Eddie,” Brucie raised his glass and then so did Johnny. “Wilder than the rest of them, that kid.”

“Yeah,” Johnny agreed just because, but his mind was already miles away. Planning, thinking ahead, shifting gears. 

“We’ll need to send flowers,” Johnny decided.

“Yeah.”

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ…” Johnny sighed and looked at the newspaper again. “The kid was too young to end up in a box.” 

There weren’t any pictures of the accident, but the description was vivid enough. 

“We’ll send it.” Brucie wrote something down in his notebook. “Doubt the family will want us there anyway.”

Johnny answered with a shrug, then lit another cigarette.

“What about the bike?” he asked.

“The bike?”

“Nice bike it was. A racer. Shame for it to be stuck in a barn or somethin’.” Johnny coughed a bit and pointed to the newspaper, then took another sip of his drink.

Brucie sighed at the very suggestion of asking the grieving family a thing like that, but finally he just nodded.

“I’ll try and find out.”

Turned out, finding out was not as much of a chore as it was a weird fucking encounter. First, Benny came by the bar and sat down with Johnny, wordlessly staring at the newspaper. The front page was still there in all its gorey glory.

Eddie and Benny used to ride together sometimes. They often made a bet with each other, then led the police on a wild goose chase just for laughs. 

“The bike,” Johnny said to Benny, then tapped the front page. “Know what happened to it?”

Benny, fond of his long pauses, looked down and lit a cigarette. Finally, Johnny raised his brows in annoyance and Brucie perked up his ears to hear the story.

“They lived on that apple farm outside of I24. Eddie and his family.”

Benny often gave up information reluctantly, as if keeping it inside his skull helped to keep him sane.

“They sell apples?” Johnny asked.

“His old man used to make cider, too.” Benny looked to the side pensively. “Fuck.”

“What?”

“Still got a bottle stashed somewhere. We should drink it. You know, for Eddie.”

Johnny frowned some more, then just decided to accept the information at face value.

“I’ll go there tomorrow,” Brucie offered, but Johnny shook his head and that was that.

“If you thinkin’ of makin’ an offer, I’d hurry.” Benny took a long drag on his cigarette, then flicked the ash off with his thumb.

“Yeah? Why is that?” Johnny asked.

“His sister rides.”

“Bikes? His sister?” Brucie chuckled, then immediately stopped when Gail shot him an angry look.

“No. Horses.”

Brucie looked at Benny then like he tended to do quite often. A space oddity, that kid. But whether he was pensive or sad, Brucie decided to let him be. Eddie was his friend after all.

“I’ll go there end of the week,” Johnny said. “Offer a good price.”

“Why do you care so much anyway? Your bike’s good.” Benny asked the question nobody dared to up to this point. Johnny never got mad at Benny, though, so Brucie stayed put. Truth be told, he was curious himself.

“Because,” Johnny said. “It’s a good racin’ piece, that thing. I’ve seen you two racin’ way too many times.”

“Yeah, but Eddie always lost,” Benny smirked.

“Not when he didn’t let you win.”

Johnny smirked at Benny and that was as good as saying he still loved him despite Benny being a walking accident. So Benny left it at that and finished his coffee.

The farm was quite far away on the outskirts of Chicago. Johnny had to stop for gas on a remote station where every farmer and hillbilly in sight immediately let him know he wasn’t welcome. Johnny opted to ignore them.

He parked his bike by the front gate of the farm and took a look around. Immediately fed up with good countryside air, he lit a cigarette and squinted at all that sunlight. Feeling like a villain in a western, Johnny let himself in and walked the path leading to the barn. Right away he heard horses neighing, then someone shouting in the distance. Johnny turned that way and saw a woman riding a horse. She wasn’t only riding it, more like galloping straight at him. 

He realised it was him she was yelling at then; her fiery red hair a halo around her angry face. Johnny stood there, a little transfixed, his better judgment kicking in only when he realised she wasn’t going to stop the horse. He jumped out of the way at the very last moment, groaning as his side met the thorns of the nearby rose bushes.

The woman stopped the horse abruptly, all the roadside dust blowing up around them and obscuring Johnny’s vision. He coughed and tried to get up, already losing his patience.

But then he saw that angry five foot nothing marching towards him, all that red hair billowing behind her and a sawed off shotgun firmly gripped in her left hand. Thinking himself thoroughly out of bargaining chips, he raised his hands up high.

“Get up!” she shouted at him, her face twisted in a grimace of unholy fury.

“Fuck, I’m tryin’, ain’t I?!” Johnny barked back.

“What were you thinkin’, comin’ here on that fuckin’ bike! Haven’t you done enough?!” The woman kept shouting and Johnny only grimaced in response. 

He was now on one knee, hands still up. Against his better judgment, he looked her right in the eye, but quickly realised talking his way out of this one would prove to be tricky. 

“Look, alright, I don’t know what you’re so upset about, ‘cause—”

“My brother!” She shrieked. 

“Eddie?”

“Yes, Eddie! He died because of you!”

“Now, wait a damn minute…” 

“You! You and that fuckin’ gang of good-for-nuthin’ thugs on those fuckin’ machines!”

Johnny winced and looked at that shotgun again, trying to figure out his next move.

“Right.” He looked up at the woman, squinting from the sun and all that dust. Her dark horse, now grazing nearby, snorted like it was insulting Johnny personally. Not particularly fond of farm animals, Johnny wouldn’t put it past it.

“So you’re the sister, huh?”

She snorted not unlike the horse and finally put the safety on that shotgun. Johnny felt himself exhale.

“How observant,” she mocked, but then she extended her hand to help him up and Johnny took it. His knee immediately let him know how old he was.

“Get out of here. I don’t want you here.” She shoved him a little then and Johnny couldn’t help but be thoroughly shocked. 

Not that it did anything, she was not very strong, but in all his life Johnny had never been challenged by a woman. 

“Look…”

“No, mister, I ain’t lookin’ at nothin’, alright?” She shook her head and pointed that shotgun at the front gate. “Get outta here. We got nuthin’ to say to each other.”

“Alright. Alright. I’m goin’, see?” Johnny raised his hands again for no other reason but to show her she was in charge. He prided himself with never raising a hand at a woman, so he wasn’t about to start now. Not at a grieving one, either.

Even if she was insane.

She watched him turn his back to her and started to walk behind him like a very small guard dog that made up for its size with anger.

“Your parents let you walk around like that?” Johnny asked and dared a smirk since she couldn’t see his face anymore.

They walked a couple steps more along the path before she replied:

“Like what?”

“With that fuckin’ shotgun and all. It’s illegal, ya know? Might try to watch who you pointin’ that at.”

“What, you a cop now, mister?”

Johnny laughed at that and shook his head.

“And what'd you mean by that anyway? I’m supposed to wear frilly skirts on a farm?” she scoffed. “You try wearing a skirt on that ugly bike of yours, we’ll see how far it’ll take you.”

Johnny immediately took offence, since he had just renovated the red paint on it.

“What?” She grinned, watching him pull faces. “I’m supposed to just listen to you ‘cause you’re the boss or somethin’?”

“Yeah, or somethin’,” Johnny sighed, thoroughly regretting his decision to come there in the first place.

“I fuckin’ hate bikes. They’re all ugly.”

“Get outta here.” He waved his hand, letting her know she didn’t have a clue. None.

“Eddie told me all about you, Johnny Davis.”

“Yeah? And what’s that he told ya then?”

She paused and since they reached the gate anyway, Johnny figured what the dead brother had to say didn’t really matter.

“Yeah, you got us all wrong there.” Johnny turned around to look her in the eye. “You got nuthin’ to worry about from us, alright? We are sorry for Eddie. He was a good kid, alright, he… He really was.”

The sister looked at him all inquisitive like, but she didn’t put the shotgun away. It seemed to Johnny he got all compliant for nothing.

“Yeah, right,” she said, though without all that venom now. “I heard you burned down a bar only ‘cause they got in a fight with one of you.”

“That…” Johnny paused, looking for the right words. “That ain’t exactly how it happened.”

“But it did happen?” 

They looked at each other for the longest time, before Johnny finally gave her the smallest of nods.

“So,” she smirked, satisfied. “Let me tell you now so that you don’t get any ideas of comin’ here and botherin’ my folks. It’s the bike I’m thinkin’ you’re after and I can tell you now, we will sell it all, but not to you. I will sell it for parts and there’s nuthin’—”

“One thousand.”

“What?”

“One thousand, cash. I’ll bring it tomorrow.”

She sputtered, visibly shocked. That suited Johnny just fine.

“You ain’t serious, mister.”

“I am serious, yeah.”

“You’re out of your mind!”

“I am,” he smirked, still a bit amused with her against his will.

When she didn’t answer, Johnny got back on his bike.

“One thousand,” he said again, but this time she turned her back to him in response.

Johnny watched her walk away, then took one last look at that farm; all those apple trees growing in orderly rows like soldiers, the reddish barn that hadn’t seen a lick of paint in years, and that angry woman full of fire inside her, apparently responsible for all of it not going to hell.

They got that in common, Johnny thought, as he rode away.

Johnny came back the next day, one thousand cash in his jacket pocket and a knife in his boot. Not that his plan was to knife the lady necessarily, but last time he came unprepared and he didn’t like it.

She didn’t pull out a shotgun on him again, but there was a knife in her hand and that Johnny liked even less. She was peeling apples; a big basket of them by her side and a bucket of cold water next to it. All that red hair was gathered in a braid so messy it barely held it together. Johnny was reminded of that time Betty went out of town to visit her folks and he got left alone with the girls. Suffice to say, Betty never made that mistake again.

“Thought you wouldn’t show,” the crazy sister greeted Johnny and the apple she peeled landed in the bucket of water with a splash.

“I said I’d come, so…” Johnny said, all in all not too sure how to start the money talk. Men were easy to start that conversation with, at least in his experience. You flash the cash, the deal was struck. Never in his life had he negotiated a deal stranger than this one.

“And what’s that?” She pointed with the knife to the can he was holding. 

Johnny felt then that the string of fate which brought him to the goddamn apple farm was not a string at all, but an electric wire.

“Paint,” he replied and placed it at her feet. 

She raised an eyebrow.

“What, you gonna throw it at me if I don’t sell the bike?”

“The fuck you talkin’ about, girl?” Horrified by the idea, Johnny didn’t even notice it was sarcasm.

She got up then and crouched by the can, then popped it open with the knife. 

“Red.” She looked up at him and for the first time actually smiled.

“Yeah, ‘cause…” Johnny pointed to the barn awkwardly, then shook his head. “Nah, forget it.”

“No!” She popped the lid back on before he could reach for it and nearly got his fingers. Unsure if he did good or not, Johnny decided to keep his hands to himself.

“I know the place is falling apart, alright? I just… Didn’t get the time.” She looked at the barn then finally got up. “Hey, thanks for that, mister. I’ll uh…”

“Johnny.”

“What?”

“Just Johnny. I ain’t no ‘mister’, yeah, you don’t gotta call me that.”

“Sure.” She winked at him then and Johnny didn’t know what to do with that.

“Wanna see the bike?”

She took Johnny to the barn and as soon as he saw the state of that bike he knew he had made a mistake.

“One thousand you said?” the snarky creature dared to ask and she thoroughly enjoyed rubbing it in.

The bike was crushed, there was no doubt about it. There was no moving it from there either. Johnny crouched down to take a look, but it needed no expert to see the huge chunk of the exhaust missing, along with the back wheel. There was a dent on the side of it the size of a boulder, but as far as Johnny could see, the engine was still somehow intact. 

“Here.” He extended the money to her as he got up and she looked at it like she expected it to bite her.

“What?” Johnny asked. “A deal’s a deal.”

Finally, she relented.

“I can drive it back to town for ya,” she said then and pointed to the red pickup at the far back of the barn.

“Nah, it’s…” Johnny shook his head before he could think it through.

“What?” she scoffed. “You gonna walk it?”

“Can you drive?”

“Who do you think picked Eddie up from the bar when he got too drunk to stand?”

Johnny took one more look at the dented space where the back wheel of the bike was supposed to be and he relented.

On principle, though, he rode his bike alongside her pickup. They even started a race as they passed the Salt Creek, because why the hell not. She stood no chance, the pickup was too heavy, but Johnny was impressed that she even tried.

She parked outside his house and Johnny left his bike on the lawn. As if summoned by magic, Betty’s face appeared in the kitchen window. She took one pointed look at the lawn and Johnny knew he would hear about it later.

“I’ll, uh, fix it up a bit. Needs work but it’s a good one,” he said as he put the gloves back on to unload the broken bike from the pickup. He still couldn’t tell if the sister gave a shit about it at all.

“Yeah, well. It’s yours. You can blow it up if you like. You bought it.”

She tried to hide her face from him and Johnny decided to let it be. As she drove away, he found himself watching until that damn banged up red pickup disappeared around the corner. Seeing Betty’s face in the kitchen window again, Johnny knew he was cutting it close.

Some time passed, not like Johnny was counting days or anything, but every time he caught a glimpse of red hair at the corner store or anywhere else around town, he felt like a lunatic. One time one of the guys came to the bar with a redhead and Johnny nearly threw him out for no reason other than apparently having lost his mind.

“You fight too much, Johnny,” Brucie said to him then, half-amused. “Got hit on the ol’ noggin’ one too many times.”

“Shut up, Brucie.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

But then she did come to the bar one night, the real her, and Johnny couldn’t believe his very eyes. Granted, neither could any of the Vandals.

It was one of the quieter nights, even with the occasional shouting and rock music. Johnny nursed his drink in the corner and just as he poured himself another one, he heard it—horseshoes rhythmically hitting the pavement, coming closer and closer. 

Johnny pushed the bottle away and lit a cigarette instead. He must have had enough and was just hearing things, but then the bar door swung open and someone wolf-whistled. Johnny turned around just in time to see Eddie’s sister standing there, jeans and cowboy boots and all. She looked around and that’s when Corky decided to try his luck.

Johnny watched them like a hawk and he couldn’t tell what exactly was being said, but sure enough, in one practiced swing Corky got punched in the throat. 

“Fuck me,” Johnny muttered to himself as he got up and made his way towards what could turn into a rightful mess.

The rest of the guys still couldn’t tell whether they were pissed off or turned on, and apparently neither could Corky, choking on the floor and gasping for air.

“What the fuck?” Johnny hissed and grabbed the crazy redhead by the shoulder.

He didn’t want to read too much into it, but he could swear she looked relieved to see him.

“Got bored of painting my damn barn, didn’t I?” She started to talk like it was rapid fire or something. “Needed myself a drink, heard you got a bar or… somethin’. Fuck, your friends are grabby, though.” 

The cheeky thing. Johnny didn’t even know what to say to that. He looked around and noticed the guys giving them an odd sort of look. It pissed him off for reasons he couldn’t really name.

“There,” Johnny somehow manoeuvred the crazy girl out of everybody’s grasp and they sat together at his table.

“So,” he muttered as he finally found two damn seconds of peace to light a cigarette. “Whaddya want?”

“That’s how this works or somethin’? I gotta come to you with somethin’ I want?”

Johnny tried his best not to smile.

“Yeah, people usually do.”

“Can’t I just want to buy you a drink?”

“In my own bar?”

She rolled her eyes at him, actually rolled her eyes at him, then helped herself to his bottle and poured them both a drink.

“How’s the bike?” she asked, trying to sound all casual.

Johnny sat there motionless for a good moment, smoking and sizing her up. She had some type of a deal, he was sure of it. Everyone did and everyone wanted something. He just couldn’t really tell what it was she wanted. Yet.

“It’s alright, yeah.” 

“You think it will run again?”

“Oh, she’ll run.”

“So it’s a she, is it?”

This time it was her suppressing a smile and Johnny felt easier about it all.

“‘Course it’s a she, what are you talkin’ about?” He finally felt well enough to have that drink and she followed suit.

Then they drank some more and things got more relaxed. And significantly more blurry.

“You know, when Eddie and I were little, he used to never shut up about motorcycles. There was that movie… With Dirk Bogarde. Yeah, you know the one.” She grinned at him, no doubt seeing that spark of fondness in his face that he was unable to suppress. 

“Anyway, he must’ve dragged me like five times to see that movie. In the end I got so sick of it, but I still let him quote the lines at me. Eddie loved all that life, man, and these damn bikes…” 

Johnny let her be wistful about it. She looked like she needed it. There was an urge there to reassure her that Eddie would be missed, because that was the truth, but then Johnny felt her foot sliding up his leg and his brain short-circuited. 

His eyes snapped to hers and that lazy smile she gave him made this whole thing even worse. For a moment he doubted this was even real, but there it was, her foot still intertwined somewhere between his calves, and his brain and dick no longer connected.

“I’m married,” he said there, more to remind himself than to actually break the tension.

But she straightened up in her chair immediately and that was that. Her cheeks grew even redder than the tequila had made them and Johnny sighed a long sigh.

“Sorry,” she murmured and finished the rest of her drink. 

“Nah. Don’t be.”

She looked up again and this time it was all look, don’t touch. But still, Johnny felt like it was more. Or maybe he just really wanted it to be.

“Now listen, I’m… What, a good twenty years older than you—”

“Oh, shut up, old man.”

She poured them another drink and leaned forward on the table. Suddenly, her leg was back between his legs and neither of them could so much as breathe. Johnny held her gaze just in case; she reminded him of all them mountain lions his grandfather was so fond of hunting. Difficult to hunt in the first place, silent and deadly. But in the dark… Yeah, they were at their finest. They crept up on you all softly—you blinked and you died.

Truth be told, Johnny very much wouldn’t give two fucks if he did die then and there. But it was a dangerous thing, the old wolf of the pack actually being called old.

“I ain’t that young, by the way,” she said. “But I bet it’s the fumes for ya. They’re bad for your skin or somethin’.”

Johnny scoffed and downed his drink. She did the same and the lines got even blurrier.

When he came to the next morning, he was still in his chair, leaning against the wall, with the unmistakable taste of last night’s cigarettes in his mouth and the heaviness of too much tequila in his temples.

Something stirred in the corner of his eye then and then Brucie spoke:

“John.”

“Yeah.”

“You wanna tell me why there’s a horse in your bar?”

Johnny winced and forced himself to look. Every fibre of his being that was still even able to move groaned in protest.

“Well,” he muttered and rubbed his eyes, but there was indeed a horse—standing by the liquor cabinet, tail twitching nervously and all.

“I don’t know, Brucie, why don’t you go ask it, yeah?” Johnny rasped and then reached for his lighter, but his pack of Marlboros was empty as a tomb. Something stirred again in the corner and Johnny figured it was Brucie finally working up his courage to approach the horse.

“You think it wants a drink?”

Johnny opened his eyes again, suddenly alert. Sometimes he couldn’t tell if Brucie was kidding or not.

“Don’t feed the goddamn horse any liquor, Bruce, fuck’s sake. She’ll kill me.”

“You think it’s a she?”

“I don’t know if it is, yeah, but the horse has an owner and she’s very unstable, alright, let’s just leave it at that.”

“Oh… Your pretty little thing. Gotcha. Yeah, she’s out cold in the back.”

Johnny looked at him, even more annoyed now.

“My what?”

Brucie hesitated before speaking again and finally he pushed a bowl of water towards the horse. With loud, violent slurps, it started to drink.

“She’s sleepin’, Johnny, relax.”

Once again, Johnny felt like he absolutely, categorically wouldn’t relax anytime soon and so he stood up and only then did Brucie finally start making sense:

“Now listen, John, I didn’t let nobody near her, right, but the way you two been polishin’ that tequila bottle was somethin’ else, so… Yeah, she’s out cold.”

Johnny just shook his head and decided any explanation on his part would only make things worse. 

“Fuck, I need to get home,” Johnny rasped, but he went to the back instead. 

And there she was, fuck him sideways, sleeping on a bench and covered with something that looked suspiciously like Johnny’s Vandal jacket. She didn’t even move when he poked her shoulder and so he shook her as gently as he could.

“What?” She almost shot up when she finally woke and Johnny got a little alarmed by how panicked she looked.

“Yeah, you’re alright there, you’re okay,” he said in what he hoped was a comforting tone. “You just had too much to drink, but you’re okay.”

“I seem to remember someone drinking with me,” she snapped and sat up to put her shoes back on. “Fuck, my head…”

Johnny cleared his throat and decided not to comment. His own head was not faring any better.

“Did I say anything stupid last night?” she asked.

“Oh, yeah. Lots,” Johnny lied, smirking a bit.

She sized him up, full of suspicion.

“You don’t remember either, do ya?”

“Nope.”

Johnny helped her up and tried to ignore how much he liked seeing her in that jacket. Betty wouldn’t ever wear a Vandal jacket, but then again, he never asked her to do it either.

“My horse?”

“Having a drink with Brucie, don’t worry about him, he’s fine.”

She didn’t find that too amusing.

“Hey, Sleepin’ Beauty!” Brucie hollered at her as soon as they emerged from the backroom. Johnny winced at the noise.

She laughed as she saw her horse by the bar, but at least had the decency to look apologetic about it all.

“Your idea to bring him inside, was it?” Johnny asked, but unlike Brucie, he didn’t dare to come closer. 

Brucie, though, that guy had no fear. He was patting the horse on the neck and whispering something to him. Johnny had never seen him affectionate like that.

“There… might have been a discussion last night, how he’d be cold outside, John.”

“That so?”

“It was your idea, actually,” Eddie’s sister interjected, then poured herself whatever was left from the coffee pot.

Johnny felt personally offended by the notion.

“Fuck no, it wasn’t.” 

“I say it was and we can’t ask the horse, so…”

“Look, can I just…” Johnny rubbed his face and tried very hard to remain cool. But at the very last moment he changed his mind and what he finally said was:

“Can I get that horse outta my bar now?”

The cheeky little thing had the audacity to grin about it and then marched through the bar, grabbed her horse by the reins and carefully led it outside. Johnny caught Brucie’s amused look and didn’t even have to ask what all of that was about. 

She still had his jacket on. Johnny kicked himself for it, but wouldn’t ask for it back.

Not that long after, the rumours around town were in full swing. One evening Gail and Kathy let him know exactly what they thought about his old ass trading someone like Betty for a younger model and how apparently perverted he was. Johnny let them talk, mostly since there was nothing he could have said that would make them believe he was not having an affair. 

Then again, maybe he was. Who the fuck knew at this point. Betty believed him when they had that discussion, at least for a time, but finally something in her snapped, too. She took the girls to her folks and hadn’t come back since. Not that Johnny expected she would.

What cemented the rumours was Eddie’s sister coming over one night, entirely out of the blue. Johnny was in the driveway, still working on Eddie’s banged up bike. As soon as he saw that red pickup park straight in front of his house, something stirred in him. But then, he was damn sure all the neighbors saw it park there too, so the time for denial was over. 

“Am I interrupting?” 

She approached him with a six pack of beers, flaunting her figure in those dark blue Levi’s. She could interrupt him all she wanted.

“Nah.” He got up and took the beers from her. Then she leaned in closer and for a good moment Johnny didn’t know what to do with himself.

But all she did was take his handkerchief from the back pocket of his jeans and she wiped the motor oil stain from his cheek. He got a whiff of that pink Lux soap and then, entirely on instinct, he held her closer with his free hand. She looked up and it was like her eyes said, “Finally.” Johnny knew then that he wouldn’t let go of her anytime soon.

They kissed out in the open and with a full air of social disapproval. Johnny couldn’t give two shits about anyone’s approval, though, and knew she didn’t either. Although… Fucking in that creaky bed he had shared with another woman would have been bizarre, but fortunately they didn’t even make it to the bed. 

She let Johnny push her against the wall and he nearly tore those Levi’s off of her. Kissing her left him dazed, but then she started to bite his neck and that turned him feral instead. It felt alien, being so wanted, and how fucking sad was that. 

But she did want him and they fucked twice. The second time on the sofa, with her on top. Johnny couldn’t get enough of the sight of her.

They shared that six pack in the tub. She was sitting between his legs and it felt like she just belonged there. They didn’t even talk about anything in particular, but the water was warm and she was snuggled up against him like she actually wanted to be there. 

“Where’s that one from?” she asked about yet another tattoo and Johnny looked down to see better which one caught her attention.

“Marines.”

It was an unfinished head of a rottweiler on his thigh. He got half of it, then a dishonorable discharge for his trouble. Never quite got around to fixing it and now it was half-done on purpose.

“You like to swim, huh?”

“Not so much.”

“But you don’t mind the water now, do ya?”

“Nah,” He grunted and gave her the rest of the beer. “It’s like I’m livin’ again, girl.”

“Good. We’re gonna live some, you and I.”

Johnny felt her chuckle against his chest and he just held her tighter. And even if this wasn’t heaven, then the feeling was pretty damn close.

[obbystars]

Hi- it's my first time ever requesting so sorry if it's hard to understand-

Could you please write a fic where the reader is somehow allowed to bring an ipod because it helps them calm down. When they reach Sebastian he just hears the music through the earphones which is something that he used to listen to before going under water-.

And it could be fluff or some ?

I'm sorry if this comes off weird but I always struggle when it comes to explaining my ideas 😭 (also English is not my first language ಥ⁠‿⁠ಥ)

Hope you have a nice day/evening/night when you read this!

(Hey! No worries! Don’t worry, I think I’ve got the idea and I totally get not knowing how to explain stuff. Huh, perhaps it’s luck that they managed to sneak or even snag an ipod off of a guardsman’s body. That seems like the most probable as I doubt Urbanshade would let a prisoner bring that in. But then again, it’s not a weapon. It doesn’t exactly fit in the criteria of detonating the PDG.)

(Also lol peek the new layout color as I went through Pressure’s badges. Found a neat badge with Sebastian ans its title referencing MatPat!)

NOTES: Sebastian Solace x GN!Reader / You loot a dead body / Near-death experience and actual death later (not detailed) / Reader has Sebastian’s document, but nothing too specific is mentioned / Angst if you squint at the end / At one point I was looking at Pandemonium’s document and the app closed me out without saving

Credits: Dividers by @cafekitsune

Dying and coming back to life had its ups and downs. One thing you’re not too sure of is how much time exactly passes as every experience back to where you started always has surprises. Maybe you go back in time, but that wouldn’t make sense as a certain someone remembers you every time. Hell, he’s even there to discuss your death with you in whatever world you’re brought to after dying. Maybe your body is just brought back to before you entered the submarine to Hadal Blacksite. That could make sense if it weren’t for the increased security. Urbanshade had to have noticed by now that one of their prisoners seems to be able to cheat death itself.

That doesn’t matter right now, you keep reminding yourself. As long as they’re still unaware.

Strangely enough, in one of your lives, you encountered a dead guardsman. It startled you at first, but tried to continue on and resist the urge to see if he had anything on him. That was until you heard music coming from him. You can’t fight the urge anymore as you approached him and searched where it was coming from. An ipod that was still functional, and earphones. Strange.

You looked around and checked each corner of the room, trying to see if there were any cameras. Surely they won’t mind if you picked this up, right? It’s not a weapon, so they have no reason to trigger the detonation. Right? It’s not like they saw you pick it up.

This guardsman definitely had a good taste in music, although a bit random. You’ll shuffle it for now and see where it’ll go from there. You pop one earphone on and try your best to hide it from sight when you do eventually run into cameras.

Once you opened the next door, you suddenly hear distant screaming. You quickly ran and hid in a locker, putting on the other earphone and turning the volume all the way up. You hoped it was enough to drown out the sound of the angler passing by. The screams the variants emit often left your ears ringing, the pink one especially since there was no warning prior to it approaching. That one’s scream was louder than the others and it never failed to instill so much fear in you that you briefly forget to hide in a locker.

Once the angler passes and knocks out the lights, you slowly crawl out of the locker. The ipod and earphones were, surprisingly, still functional. You remember reading their document during one of your deaths. All of the anglers emit some sort of EMP equivalent that results in short circuiting all electronics, sometimes malfunctioning too. So why were these still operational?

You shake your head, trying to not question it. It’s better not to anyway.

While the anglers screams were too loud, the silence they create once they pass is also nerve wracking. You took one earphone off and pulled out your flashlight to ease yourself a bit, but quickly shine it away once you hear growling and a glowing white face appears.

It was standing right next to the door. Worst of all, you need a keycard. You don’t have a code breacher on you. You kept the light lowered so you know where you’re stepping as you walk around trying to find where the keycard is. Not in this drawer, not in here either, no… It’s on a table next to a computer.

You came back to the door and can faintly see the creature still standing there. Despite the music playing, you couldn’t calm down. Still, you pushed yourself to approach the door and get out. The face the creature created stares down at you as you got a little too close, but then it suddenly eyes the keycard in your hand and sees where exactly you’re reaching. The face disappears, and so do they as the door opens.

You let out a sigh of relief and carry on to the next room. There were some batteries in a drawer. Your flashlight was likely to run out of juice soon. That was a relatively normal room, so you moved onto the next one. The vent door off to the side tips over and you can faintly hear his voice.

“Psst! In here,”

You smile and crawl through the vent to meet up with a familiar friendly face.

“Welcome back, friend,” he greets with a smile.

You waved at him as you stood up. Your eyes instantly lock onto the medical kit as that’s something you are in need of, and you’ll still have some data to spare. What else do you need… He has a lantern, code breacher, hand-cranked flashlight… You don’t hear the thumping noise of something else crawling through the vent and you don’t realize it until-

“HEY!!” Sebastian yelled.

You turned around just as the wall dweller opened its jaw, but it didn’t get a chance to do anything as Sebastian punched it into the wall. You yelped and fell back, pushing yourself closer to the table beside him. Sebastian had only beat it enough until it crawled away through the vent. It probably won’t get very far.

He turns to you, a little surprised to see you so frightened, “You really gotta start watching your own back. I’m not punching every one of those things for you,”

“S-Sorry, I was a bit distracted…” You stand up.

“I’m surprised you managed to get this far if you couldn’t hear that thing coming,”

You looked down, knowing exactly why you didn’t hear it. The music is still playing, and the one earphone you had on was blocking the sound of the wall dweller approaching. You were a bit shaken up, but the music does calm you down a bit. Sebastian watches you as you walk over to his tail to try and make a final decision, but he swears he hears something.

“What is that sound…?” He looks around for a moment before his eyes land on you, still trying to choose what to buy. He spots something in your ear and leans down, “Hey, what’s that you got there?”

You turn to him as he suddenly leans closer to you, his head right next to where the earphone is.

“I know that song. Is that Metallica?”

You stare up at him in shock, “You know Metallica?”

“Well obviously, you know I was just a regular human, right? You have my document for god’s sake,” he retorts, “How’d you even get an ipod of all things in here?”

“Oh, it’s not mine. I got it from a dead guardsman,”

Sebastian gives you a suspicious look, “I thought Urbanshade doesn’t allow their prisoners to loot dead bodies, armed ones at that. You could end up dead, but seeing as they haven’t detonated your diving gear yet, I’m guessing you weren’t spotted,”

“I guess not. There wasn’t a camera where I got this from, and I made sure to hide it from the cameras in the other rooms,”

“I’m curious to see just how far you’ll get with this thing. You couldn’t even hear the wall dweller approaching,” he crosses his arms, “I’m not sure if you’re bold or just stupid. Are you sure this risk is worth it?”

You can’t deny that he’s got a point. It gets in the way of hearing things you NEED to hear. Still, music brings you comfort so that’s what you tell him. You’ll only have both on when an angler is coming to block out their scream as they pass.

“Mhmm, and what will you do about Z-367? You know, the one they named Pandemonium? What then?”

Shit, he’s actually got you cornered there. You just sighed knowing full well you can’t just sit that one out and wait for it to pass, “Then I’ll just have to deal with it the usual way. I can still hear them through the music,”

Sebastian glares at you for a minute before he sighs, “Jeez, you really want to keep that thing on you, huh? Alright, I’m not stopping you. Just don’t say I didn’t warn you though,”

You smiled, “I’ll just say I knew what I was getting myself into and I’ll face the consequences,”

“Oh look at that, someone is finally taking responsibility for their own actions. It’s shocking how that’s so rare nowadays,”

You manage to pick up on his sarcastic tone and laughed. It was always fun talking with him. By the end of it, you picked up the code breacher with the medical kit he had, as well as a few batteries since you still had more data.

Upon your next unfortunate death, you realized your still have the ipod and earphones. Both were still fully functional, somehow, but you weren’t complaining. You quickly went into the submarine and waited for a few minutes before taking it out to actually scroll through the list of songs. You didn’t exactly pay attention to what was being played while you were there. Soon enough, you did find songs from Metallica which reminded you of the conversation you had with Sebastian.

You never thought he’d be into that kind of music. Maybe you’ll lend the ipod to him when you meet up with him in his shop again. Surely the repeated morse code on that radio has gotten old by now. You doubt you’ll last long without it though, but Sebastian wasn’t wrong when he said it hinders your ability to even hear the wall dwellers. Well, it wouldn’t hurt to give it up for a bit.

Once you managed to find Sebastian’s hideout again, you took off both earphones as you approached him, “Hey, you wanna hold onto this for me?”

You hold up the ipod and Sebastian gives you an odd look, “And you want to give this to me because?”

“I thought about what you said last time. I mean, I’ve made it pretty far without this before, so I don’t think I need it that much,”

He continues to stare at you before taking it from your hands. He inspects it, scrolling through the list of songs on it.

“Wow some of these suck,”

“I think some are pretty good,” you shrugged. You walked over to his tail to see what he has now, “Oh finally, a flashlight,”

Sebastian lowers the ipod and turns to you with a smirk, holding out his third limb, “Better pay up,”

“Yeah yeah, I know,”

Before you left, you left the earphones with him as well. It won’t do much good for you if it’s not gonna block out sound anyway, and it’s not like Sebastian will have much use of it either.

Some time has passed since you left the ipod with him. Sebastian had set it down on the desk next to him as music is being played. He remembers doing college work while listening to music all those years ago. Part of him now understands why you said it comforts you. Maybe it even allowed you to focus as it did with him.

Until you come back to eventually bring it along with you again, he’ll listen to the songs on the list for hours.

[aviradasa]

The lost boys main HCs

Paul

Here are some paul hcs! I hope you enjoy! This is kinda short but i had fun writing it!

If you would like a part two going into more detail about him let me know. I'm gonna be responding to Dwayne's HCS, though. I hate the ones I posted. I'm also gonna be doing an HC/ one-shot series about each of the boys before they found each other/ became vampires, so stay tuned!!

Paul is a younger sibling. When he was alive he had 2 brothers and one twin sister.

He was 19 but going to turn 20 literally like a month before he died and despite how he acts he was the oldest when turned,

If you ask him his age though he will say 20 to fuck with you before pulling the “Nah I'm just joking” card and telling you he was only 19

He does that mostly cause he's a little upset he wasn't able to hold out at least another month, so he likes to say what he could have been, but he doesn't wanna lie about his age.

He hates liars.

He also keeps track of every birthday he and the other boys have had since they turned cause he doesn't want to lose track of the years. It kinda keeps him sane a bit.

On a less depressing note

He is also one of the sassiest assholes you will ever meet. He does not think before he speaks and honestly, he doesn't give a damn

I mean y'all hear him when he said the whole “ chill out girl 🙄😒” line you can't tell me he wasn't annoyed that star was ruining the fun

He also does not give a shit if he hurts someone's feeling with it especially if its someone he doesn't know or does not fuck with, he sees no point in trying to spare the feelings of anyone he doesn't care about

He can also be a bit flirty just in general as a joke or genuinely he is just like that and he dont care what gender it is he will make flirty jokes or comments regardless.🤣

He is an asshole, but he is quite loyal to the people he loves, surprisingly. But he loves them in his own way. Despite all the teasing, rude comments, cruel pranks, and injuries he may accidentally inflict, he doesn't fuck around with other people pulling that shit.

The definition of “nobody can bully my family or friends but me.”

He can be nice sometimes. It depends on whether he's fully sober or not, and then it depends on what he did.

Drunk = steer clear he's gonna say or do some stupid shit that could result in either a fight with somebody random or not,or you all dying.

Stoned = yeah, you have a better chance of seeing him nice with this one. But still, be careful cause high also results in hunger, so don't get bit. he does bite. Remember that.

He also relaxes better after smoking, so he might just sit his ass down for a while, maybe watch a movie.

He's not a TV guy though usually. he finds it hard to focus on shows and movies so he either likes to smoke before watching or else he has to pause it every 20 minutes to get up, walk around, and bitch about loopholes and plot points for a few minutes before he can sit back down and continue it.

He just kinda avoids them for those reasons. He's more of a music guy. Because then he can get up, bounce around, have fun, and not miss anything in the song cause he can do other shit while listening.

The music he likes is rock and heavy metal; I will admit, though, that he is the kinda person to pull the “Oh, you know (random band), then name 3 songs.”

“ (names 3 song)”.

“Oh shit cool, what's your favorite.”

He does that shit often, actually, but his saving grace is that if you know what your talking about, you now have a new friend to discuss your favorite bands with. 😭

He keeps his area of the cave a mess but he still knows where everything is. But it's not like a dirty mess; it's mostly just clutter.

He refuses to leave food containers or remains in his room overnight like he can not stand that shit if he's chilling out drawing or something, and he catches the lightest whiff of food smell from a container he finished off not even an hour ago he getting up and throwing it away.

Honestly, that goes for all the boys, to be fair. They don't care about being dirty themselves, but they don't want their spaces dirty if you get what I mean.

Also, he does not like people touching his stuff. Only a select few people can, and that is Laddie and the other boys maybe star once in awhile, and depending on whether you are a close friend or partner, you can, but everybody has to ask unless he says to grab it for him.

He just doesn't want his shit moved cause he's worried he won't be able to find it.

He's not worried about shit being broken cause he will just fix it. Unless it's CDs or records that he can't fix, he will be severely pissed.

But one specific thing you don't under any circumstance touch, grab or even breathe too close to is his sister's old music box. If that gets broken, he will kill you, no questions asked, and he won't feel bad about it, NOBODY would want to/ have the ability to stop him at that moment, so just please don't touch it.

Other than that, he doesn't care. He likes having people come to his space to hang out and keep him company. He also likes showing off all the cool shit he has.

Oh, and the him killing you thing reminds me.

He is scary as fuck when he kills/feeds cause his style is extremely animalistic. He doesn't just tear flesh away or rip a limb or two. He fucking MAULS his kills to the point that if you see the aftermath, you genuinely wonder if it was ever a human or not.

His kills are quick, violent, messy, and sadistic. Cause he genuinely does enjoy the kill, probably more than feeding.

He's an adrenaline junkie, a daredevil, and anything in between, so when it is time, he will find a target, and to be fair, he likes a good chase. So he will probably grab somebody, and when they fight back, he will purposely let them go and give them a head start so he can chase them down just to make the mauling more fun.

When he's done feeding, he is most of the time covered in blood, dirt, leaves, sand, sticks, you name it, and it's probably on him.

He cleans up as best he can before going back onto the boardwalk or heading into town of course. But if they have a late feeding and they have to get back to the cave in a hurry before sunrise. He will stay like that until the next day.

But by the time he wakes up, he hates the feeling of the stuff stuck to him, so he cleans up quickly just so he doesn't have to be uncomfortable lmao.

Anyway, that's it for now. He's just a funny, sarcastic, sadistic, flirty asshole. But we love him. Cause he's Paul.

[zephyrchama]

hi! i’m the same anon that sent the long-ish ask before about how much i love your writing and how it’s really special to me. i saw that you wrote something about leviathan that was similar to the lucifer duality post, in the rad archives server. im like embarrassed as hell to be saying this here on anon because it’s cowardly, but i’m a lurker in that server because i’m anxious (lol), and i still want to express in some way that i really like both of those posts a lot. even though i didnt make it to the levi one in time.

i also really resonate with them but the levi one more so (probably some bias since he’s been my favorite for 4.5 years). i wrote a very long ramble about my interpretation of it but i felt like it was too long and i’m embarrassed (again) about it and its. very redundant. so i’m not including it. lol. so i understand you deleting the original levi duality post.

but anyways, it hit me hard (knocked me unconscious and kept swinging when i was down) and. actually made me tear up. so, once again, thank you Very much for your wonderful blog 🫶🫶🫶

You!!! [insert emoji that points at the viewer here] Hello!!! That message was so incredibly nice. It was incredibly well written and thoughtful. I spent so many hours alternating between blushing at the wall and pacing around. Thank you so much!!

(Don't be ashamed!! You're not cowardly! I'm also mega super shy. I feel bolder in public discord groups where there's a lot of talking going on because whatever I say will eventually be washed away by the conversation, but totally get that it's nerve-wracking to speak with people.) (I am nervous now hahaha. I must face the consequences of my post-deleting actions. I shall grow and learn.)

So, someone mentioned they get notified when I post!? and that they got the notification but it led nowhere. Apologies for that! I typed something up on my phone and deleted it in shame because after a while it had 0 notes and I thought perhaps it was out of character or poorly written. Sometimes my ideas flop, that's fine and I always leave them up anyway because I like them, but last night a little voice in my head made me anxious and we do silly things when we're anxious.

Here's what the post was for those that missed it, apologies again for deleting it:

---

Leviathan, Avatar of Envy, ruthlessly blasting a hole through Mammon's door and flooding the room to get his money back. Giving the cold shoulder to those who dare speak with him. Glaring at everyone he passes like they're dirt beneath his feet for being normies. Nobody is worth his time. He has more important things to attend to.

Leviathan, Avatar of Envy, weeping as he gently cuts into a pancake shaped like Azuki-tan that he, himself, ordered. He spent fifteen minutes taking photos and now the pancake is cold. His face is red and his body shakes with silent sobs while lifting a bite to his mouth. A passing waiter asks if he wants any butter. He nods. A tear rolls down his cheek and falls onto the collar of his limited edition Azuki-tan t-shirt.

[g1rlken]

hi dolly! 💕i just discovered ur blog n i love ur writing sooo much! 🙈💞 can u pls do 2 or 16 for nate!! 💗💗

you’re so freaking nice woah I love u sm 😠🫶🏼

Prompt: 2. Sunshine x grumpy + 16. Help get out of a toxic relationship

Nate Jacobs x fem!reader

2.7k words

-

Just the ninth if not the tenth party of the month. Another house party, on a school night, way past her usual bedtime and really overwhelming that it just won’t near its end. Y/n couldn’t bare it sometimes but she had to attended because her boyfriend Ryan did. It was fun though, driving him home as he’d be piss drunk and the party itself had the most obnoxious teenage charm. In order to block out on the godawful bass and flickering lights y/n guided herself into the kitchen when Ryan most probably didn’t even notice.

“Oh what have we here!” Nate exclaimed as he followed in some time after, she jumped down from the kitchen counter where she previously sat with an awkward smile. She’d known of Nate and him partially. They were supposed friends ever since that one term last year where she had to tutor him. Though they didn’t really reconnect after that once she started seeing Ryan. It was somewhat majorly due to him that y/n didn’t see a lot of her friends who seemed potential threats to him.

“Hi” she greeted him awkwardly looking out the door to see if Ryan was coming, she was scared he’d cause a scene if he saw her with Nate. Even if it was just a conversation, two of them at a reasonable distance with a probable small talk following. Ryan wouldn’t have it, he’d loose his shit over her even breathing in the direction of some other guy.

Nate could tell that she was a bit frantic over something and he was fast to connect it was a ‘someone’ rather. “What are you doing here all alone?” He asked pouring himself a glass of water.

“Nothing really just uh-“ she tried thinking of proper words to say. But the soft dread of Ryan walking in any minute made her mind preoccupied.

Nate interrupted her pause, “Beer pong’s too boring for you? Already calculated the probability of winning?” He joked, when she had helped him with math and there were similar questions as such counting probably of winning a coin toss. So it was a small jab from something between them.

A small laugh seemed to escape her genuinely as he correlated their previous connection through maths, “I didn’t think about that wow…” she trailed off, “one throw amongst ten glasses”

“One in ten probability of winning.” He answered his instant calculation.

“I don’t know the glasses are set up like a triangle and they’re not all equally probable to get in, maybe we take like one row at a time and then apply bayes theorem for each-“ she was going off about the self curated math problem between the two of them as he listened intently but looked absolutely clueless so she stopped herself “oh wait I’m rambling aren’t I? Sorry” she cringed to herself letting out a soft chuckle.

“It’s alright sweetheart” he added with a shrug, “I like hearing you talk.”

“Surely because math is so fun isn’t it?” She said sarcastically rolling her eyes at him.

“It’s not. But when you talk like that, it’s fun to watch.” Nate replied just mildly, contrary to his chance making intentions out of this conversation. Even apart from that he did mean that, he’d missed it, her.

“Like what?”

“That…” he pointed to her face vaguely, unable to describe how her eyes lit up and a cheery tone followed her voice whenever she talked about something she liked without being made felt like it was a chore to the listener “You get all smiley...happy. When you talk about something you love”

“Well I don’t necessarily love math.” She told him, it was true. Despite of being good at something, having a passion for it was unilateral to it.

“I guess you love being heard then.” It might just have been a note as Nate mentioned it so casually but as she thought about it, she couldn’t help but wander back to Ryan and how he never listened.

No. That couldn’t be, everyone’s a different lover perhaps “Yeah…” she trailed off with a small smile as her expression fell. Comprehending those moments where talking to Ryan about something in her life would just feel like talking to a wall.

“What’s wrong?” Nate asked catching on her fallen expression.

“What?” She asked confused, nonchalant because surely he wouldn’t fix anything “Nothing…”

“It doesn’t seem like nothing, what’s wrong?”

“What?” She frowned but couldn’t help laugh when she saw his ever so concerned face like her smile falling was that big of a deal. “Nothing’s wrong!” As a joke, she splashed some of the tap water on his flickering it on him through her fingers. She laughed as he took the attack of tiny droplets.

“You did not just-“ if it were some one else he would’ve most probably said the worst cusses in the book but with her he just let out a small huff.

“Did what?” She attempted to sprinkle his face once again but this time he got a hold of her wrists with one of his hands, she couldn’t contain her laughter. It was infectious to him as well, this light hearted moment was flooded all over like a forest fire with an irking voice.

“What the fuck’s going on here?” Ryan seethed, y/n immediately pulled her hands away from Nate’s as that boy strided in.

“W-we uh were just talking” y/n spoke frantically, it was disheartening to Nate to see her all panicky and frantic again, when she was just laughing and at peace a few moments ago.

“That’s what you’ve come up with?” Ryan questioned as he aggressively walked towards her “Why do you always have to slut your way about, everywhere I take you huh?”

“I wasn’t doing anything I swear-we were just talking, I used to tutor him math and we were just reconnecting over it I-“ y/n jumped rapidly to explain herself before Nate could intervene for her.

“Over math huh?” Ryan scoffed “Someone dumb like you? You were talking about math?”

“Hey calm the fuck down alright” Nate interjected before y/n could. “She said we were just talking so we were just talking.” He added authority to her words but it just made things worse.

“This is our matter so can you fuck off?” Ryan barked at Nate, the two weren’t friends but just distant acquaintances. Ryan naturally couldn’t stand anyone trying to talk to her because it was all ‘flirting’ and Nate couldn’t naturally stand y/n because that boy made his sun rays embodied girl feel awful.

“No.” Nate said adamantly “How about you grow a pair and stop being a little bitch about everyone who looks in her direction? Do you not think yourself man enough to keep her or do you have to berate her to have her around?” Nate was poking at him purposely because he himself wanted a go at this guy but he didn’t want y/n to think Nate was the guy who’d throw first punch, even though he wanted to.

But that was it, Nate received the punch he was asking for but he barely flinched very overpowered with his own urge of showing Ryan his place they two were at each other’s throats. This was the exact scene y/n was worried about Ryan creating, she tried to soothe the fight pleading them both but it didn’t work.

“Get off of him!” She kept on trying as she held Ryan from his arm, trying to tug him away but it was distracting him so much from throwing his hands at Nate. Her constant nagging and tugging.

“Get the fuck off me!” Ryan roared at y/n pushing her off of him very aggressively, intently pushing her so hard she fell to the ground and that was when Nate no longer held his punches. He beat the boy bloody red. By now the others had gathered too to help escalate the situation but it was of no help, Nate was like an animal unleashed.

-

A week since that, y/n couldn’t even meet Nate’s eye. She ignored him in hallways, changing her direction, she sat far across him in class always hurrying out before he could talk. She wouldn’t reply to his messages, not even see them. He hadn’t seen her around with Ryan either in their designated spots around the school so that was a good sign but he just wanted to talk this out with her because he couldn’t understand the relentless feeling of having lost her. Even as a friend. He never regretted having beaten Ryan, he deserved it. Nate was so certain of it. But y/n. He hated thinking she saw him differently after that, his obnoxious rage to protect that he wanted to cherish. Did it repel her? He felt entitled to at least find that out, he’d leave her be to just glance from the sidelines and wait till she’ll finally look his way if that made her happy but he’d like to know.

Another house party after that one with a facade, Nate as he lounged with his friends overheard a group of girls behind him gossiping about how y/n and Ryan are back together. Eavesdropping as his blood boiled he found out that she’ll probably be around here since Ryan’s here. When he heard that he immediately rose to his feet setting down his beer without a care to respond to his mates who asked about his sudden leave, they kept asking where he was going before he was lost in the crowd. He could barely register anything at this point.

As he walked through the crowd in disbelief and anger he finally did find y/n, out in the garden with some other girls he simple pulled her by her arm to himself without a word or explanation to others he received a few woahs he didn’t care for.

Nate would’ve pulled her aside to talk to her if she was standing with Ryan if that boy weren’t to busy getting piss drunk. “Hey!” Y/n resisted trying to walk herself but he continued to drag her with a tight grip on his arm getting to a quieter place by the small space between the backward and out shed. “Nate what are you-“

“What’s wrong with you?” He asked her, brows furrowed.

“What? What are you talking about…” y/n trailed off as some embarrassment and regret creeped within her but she full well knew what he was talking about.

“How are you even seeing Ryan again? Are you out of your mind?!” He exclaimed. He had so much to demand about, Nate swallowed his pride with timid hurt whenever she ignored him. He could bare her dismissiveness but not her sadness.

“Look…” She breathed unable to meet his gaze, “it’s different-“

“It’s different is it? What is tell me, has he come up with more ways to make you feel shitty?”

Remaining silent as she looked to the ground like it was the most interesting thing ever she felt horrible. Even more horrible of the life she could be otherwise leading but the life she was afraid of leaving. Afraid of the change leaving ryan would bring, afraid of its consequence the emotional weight.

“And you’ve been ignoring me this entire time. Do you think I can’t see that?” Nate spoke and this time she looked up increasingly confused at how he could see through her that much “You don’t look at me, always hurry away even right now you can’t even meet my eyes what are you so afraid of?!”

“It’s just…it’s difficult to explain” y/n tried to reply mildly as she sighed on the verge of tears.

“As long as you can explain it to yourself right?” He scoffed, really agitated how she couldn’t see what he could. Nate was an intense lover too, ferocious one that. But he’d never make her feel this miserable if she was his. She wouldn’t even have to be his he just wanted Ryan to leach away from her because she’d be happier exactly like she was before that boy. Constantly governing her and disrespectful. Nate had a bad temper and he was difficult but he’d never be difficult enough to the extent of hurting her.

Now tears brimmed her eyes and he instantly held back from his words realising just how distressing it must be for her “Hey…hey” he urged her raising her chin with his fingers to make him look at him “I shouldn’t have said that I’m sorry…” he apologised but it didn’t stop the tears streaming down her face. “Y/n…it’s alright” he brought her to himself enlacing her into his arms and he rubbed her back letting her cry it out.

“I just don’t know what to do-he—he apologised and he said he’d change and this is the second time this has happened and I-i felt embarrassed to see you because you did so much and yet I went back to him…I keep on doing this, I just, I’m very lost on that account” she wept “He’s my first-first everything and I do really like him but he just makes me miserable and awful. Every second I’m with him I just feel horrible I don’t even want to be here at this party but I am…because of him.”

“Look at me” he said pulling away from the hug to face her but she still kept looking down so Nate cupped her face in his hands “Look” he urged “It’s okay…it’s difficult. You’re learning to love and you’re too attached to him right now. You will get out of it only if you get out of it. You have gotten over much difficult things and you have been okay. You’ll be okay this time around too.”

“How do you know that?” She asked as her voice broke but her tears composed.

“Because I love you.” Nate blurted and didn’t even regret it, almost felt free of letting out a feeling so intense in him whether or not she reciprocated “I love you. I love all of you and I’m not embarrassed to admit it but I want you whole. I want you happy, I promise you i will maintain it and I don’t want you to think of it now” he said wiping her tears “we’re going to go home. I’ll drop you home. You’re not answerable to anyone if you don’t want to be at a place you don’t want to be. You think about Ryan, break up, sort your head out yeah? You deserve better than him because love shouldn’t make you feel awful and miserable. it doesn’t necessarily have to be me or anyone, your own self needs you the most right now. Act right by you.”

Nate drove her home after that, she was truly glad. The car ride was full of a comfortable silence and the genuine serene smile which adorned her face when she told him good night after dropping her off was all worth it to Nate.

Following two days were a bit long as Nate didn’t hear from y/n in any way. She wasn’t even at school. The game day was on the weekend so people rarely came from class these days. Regardless on the game day when he had to play himself he searched for her in the crowd full of people but couldn’t find her. That’s what he told himself weighing light on the fact that she might not have showed up.

He played his well that game, where they won. But he still felt like he had lost somewhat. Since he didn’t have y/n, or a sign of her that could bring his heart some peace. It’s as if his wish was turned alive, he saw y/n come rushing towards the team where everyone was congratulating each other.

He dropped his helmet to the floor when she came running and picked her up in his arms, feeling won, feeling at home. Nate hugged her as if she wouldn’t exist if he let go and likewise. Y/n finally felt liberated, happy, like herself again. Following his word of advise.

Y/n had broken up with Ryan, with a lot of comprehension and conversations with her feelings y/n had reciprocated Nate’s. “I love you too” she replied to what she couldn’t that night at the party and he smiled so hugely kissing her as she was still lifted up into his arms. She kissed him back wrapping her arms around him and like he’d promised, she felt alright again.

HEY!!!! Please let me know your thoughts I will think about it twice a week if you commented a smile face even. Anyways, THANK YOU for reading I love you and go drink water

+is my nate semi non toxic? Yes as a descendant of bob the builder family I fixed him

[aristia-pjoheadcanons]

hi✨adore your thoughts and headcanons to the moon and back with how detailed and in character they are. dark!percy has always been incredibly alluring and fascinating, so I was wondering about your presentation/analysis of him. if you're comfortable (if not, it's totally okay and just ignore it!), could you write percy and child of any "dark" like hades, or hecate, nyx (or whoever) god, who understands how scary and tough it can be when you and your powers are so destructive, and they help him to kinda adjust to this side of him and understand that he isn't a bad person for that (cause this guy already has a lot of self hatred). maybe kinda chaotic dumbass enemies to lovers? sfw or nswf - whatever works for you. sorry for this ramble! just so many thoughts about him...

hope you have a good time of a day🤟

DARK!Percy headcanons

authors note: Can I just say, I've been WAITING for a question like this. More Dark Percy headcanons everyone!! plss!!

warnings: mentions of abuse & neglect, suicidal and intrusive thoughts, impulsive thoughts, mentions of eating disorder, chaotic family life, Gabe Ugliano...

okay, this is a mixture of headcanons of his CHILDHOOD but also an ANALYSIS of DARK PERCY.

cigarette burns from Gabe. Not just because Gabe did it, some of Gabes older friends (a long time ago, before the lightning theaf book) told Percy to come closer and burnt it into his forearm. Gabes eyes turned into shock but then he poked a tongue in his cheek and scoffed in laughter, giving Percy a judgemental look - *its a classic look, the type of look you give someone when you're looking down on them.

Percy would be so angry at Gabe, sometimes he would snap and tell him to shut up because Gabe would watch TV late in the night and fall asleep with the TV on until morning. At some point, Percy opened the door and screamed on the top of his lungs to shut the fuck up, slamming the door, sleep deprived and exhausted, locking the bedroom door bc he was scared Gabe would do something - and sobbed loudly. He was just a kid, but he already learnt how to fight. Sally tried to give reassurance but Percy wouldnt open the door. The incident was deemed "nightmares" on Percy's part, and Sally let him sleep in her bed.

Sally and Gabe never shared a bed. Gabe snores, sometimes even has nightmares, other time she would bother Sally about a new babyboy they could have, as if Percy wasn't good enough to be his son.

One time Sally asked Percy if he ever wanted siblings. the truth is, yes, but with Gabe Ugliano? no way. fuck no. He said no in a really moody and almost bitchy way, and walked out of the house and went to school.

Percy had the habit of keeping his shoulders scrunched up when he slept. He still does, but he doesn't understand why his body tenses up when he sleeps - Gabe isn't there anymore.

He also had the habit of lowering his head, shoulders and hunching when he walked - but once he met Annabeth over the summer he kept his back more straight - and never hanged his head when he walked. He noticed and felt more relief.

When people asked what he was doing for the summer, weight was lifted off his shoulders when he said SUMMER CAMP - finally he had something to do during summer! Every kid in school went somewhere nice, now even Percy does. He felt like he could finally share a bit of the same intrests as everyone else. He could actually tell people about his summer.

You know when the teacher forces everyone to tell a little bit about their summer - now finally percy could say confidendtly he did somethign fun instead of making something up.

struggles with anger, but understand it got so bad he broke his own first laptop 3.5months of having it - he broke the screen in half with his bare hands. He regretted it so much and hid it but his Sally found out.

Regrettfully, this made Percy believe he would always ruin/sabotage things for himself, and that he doesn't deserve nice things. Letting his mother buy his clothes, never aksing for new clothes... whats the point?

Besides, Gabe was stingy with his money. Gabe even refused to buy shampoo which is stupid cause its cheap asf - but Gabe wanted the feeling of control.

the dynamic of the family and house changed. The living room was Gabes, not Sally and Percy's spot. Gabe even took Percy's side of the couch and his spot at the dining table. Percy stubbornly refused to move, but Gabe is scary and big for his size so he did it to be civil for his mother. He felt like he lost something that day.

When Gabe was out late, Percy would lock the door and put the chain on. Gabe would unlock the door and try to get inside, but the chain stopped him. Gabed huffed in frustration and Sally had to get up and open the door - which burned Percys heart because he realized that nothing could keep Gabe out.

Percy would generally be a very bitter person to be around, people would shy away from him and sometimes stop talking when he tried to join in.

self image, self-confidence and self respect was low. But actually scratch that, his self respect was high. he put boundaries down pretty fast with other people because he knew everything that gabe did was no, and everything that sally did was yes. but at some point he disliked Sallys touch just slightly bit, because he knew Gabe had held her hand earlier.

he would talk to sally for hours on the couch, but as soon as the door clicked opened he walked to his room and closed the door. He didnt want to be near gabe. but then gabe started to trash his room, and percy was basically forced to sit in the living room.

he felt like he was playing "family" or pretending everything was okay, as if Gabe wasn't neglectful, but he felt sick.

At some point Percy's anxiety and stress because to normalized within himself that he nowadays cant tell what anxiety even is - and he would sometimes even say hes never had anxiety, because its basically been with him from such a young age, he cant tell the difference.

pretending to be "family" was even worse walking around the mall with sally and gabe. gabe was just this big giant slob of goo that would follow everywhere, and gabe would even huff and puff shamelessly if they were taking too long. gabe even got angry if sally found something nice for herself, he was possesive.

started taking only an apple with him to lunch, 1. he thought he was fat. 2. gabe wouldnt buy anything he liked and they had to stick with the basics. 3.his lunch was embarrassing even though everyone ate cafeteria food.

he got so happy the first time he could bring something "normal" to eat or if he got money to buy lunch, his reason being that he could finally "blend in" insteading standing out as a "freak".

he has a burn mark on the backside of his ankle, near his achillies, burn himself bc of Gabe.

hates it if someone traces the cigarette scars on his arm, even hates it if Annabeth does it - he still struggles with his self image and probably wont like that part of himself until he grows old and gray.

one time he vented to someone about his childhood and they stopped talking to him. never spoke ever since, was afraid that someone would use it against him. hasn't even told his mom or sally half of the things Gabe said or did to him/behind his back.

one time gabe pissed on the clothes percy was wearing but blaimed it on percy. ofc his mother believed percy but it was still shameful for percy.

in second book of sea of monsters, a kid asked if percy let his mother buy his clothes - actually stopped letting his mother buy clothes for him after that.

he would naturally adopt people that were outcasts and be a friend - because people were rarely there for him when he needed it.

needs validation, but couldnt get it from school. his friends would praise him but he could barely accept those compliments because at the end of the day he was still a loser too.

his mother would be his studdy buddy, and tried to help percy with homework - but still found everything hard.

gabe got angry with percy would "dirtying everything" but Gabes the only reason why his mom has to clean daily.

Dark Percy would definitely develop from a young age, but it became a lot more present behind the scene of the books.

he desires comofort, safety and a space where he can be himself without having to walk on his toes around the place.

Honestly, NSFW

He suppresses his moans because he was used to being quiet when he was around Gabe.

He has jacked off quietly, watched any videos quietly, no sound and even with headphones get sscared that someone might hear.

One time he stayed up late bc of whatever reasons and his stepfather Gabe yelled "GO TO BED", the next morning Gabe complained about how loud Percy was when Percy was away at school (this was early middle school, school wasnt that far away). And his mother Sally defended him and said she believes that Percy goes to bed when he should/when she tells him to, this made Percy feel bad so he went to bed on time every since, or at least tried too. If he ever stayed up, he learn how to breathe quietly too.

The feeling of shame for touching yourself, feeling pleasure, and arousal was strongly in him from a certain age - Gabe's influence for even trying to be HAPPY or LAUGHING with his mother made him feel shame for any good feeling sexual or not.

[hades-in-bloom]

Quit | Leon S. Kennedy x Reader

content: assumed older Leon, assumed age gap, golden retriever boyfriend with attitude, mentions of PTSD and light panic attacks, mentions of death, gn!reader, no mentions of y/n

author’s note: this man should be protected at all costs, you can’t tell me otherwise. might proofread later. as always, proceed at your own risk.

word count: still a drabble.

xoxo

***

He falls apart one day when you least expect him to, in the middle of the coffee shop, and you rush from your table towards the counter, where Leon juggles the change. His hands are shackled with heavy tremor. You don’t know what triggered him, but you know this frantic look that he has after particularly bad assignments. He doesn’t talk though, neither to you nor to the therapist assigned by the DSO. Appreciative of the mental health support offered by the agency, you hate his job with fiery passion.

You pull him to the side, helping out with putting the change back to his wallet. His breathing is ragged, and he clings to your palm, squeezing it in his own nice and tight. You thank the higher power that your favourite coffee corner is quite empty at this hour of the day. You couldn’t care less of what the staff would think of you.

You slide your free hand under his thick jacket and onto his heart in a desperate attempt to calm him down. It pains you to see him this way. Especially when he can’t stand feeling powerless and in need of assistance himself. Years of flying solo made him annoyingly self-sufficient.

He needs a minute, but then nods at you in reassurance, when barista calls out your order. You are spending precious seconds picking up two americanos before dragging Leon outside. He grabs onto the paper cup like his life depends on it, and makes a sip despite your attempts of preventing him from consuming caffeine. You don’t think it’s a good idea, taking his condition into account, but he doesn’t listen.

“You have to talk to me, Kennedy,” you sound a bit grumpy, but only because you worry about him. You plead openly. “Please, Leon.”

He scoffs bitterly into the hot beverage and takes his time before meeting your gaze with his own. His sudden panic attack seems to bridle by that point.

“I wish I could,” he assures. “It’s not that simple”.

You resent his excuses now more than ever. You do your best when trying to keep yourself together, and you spend some time walking in silence before reaching one of the benches in the park. New York is in its full glory this time of the year.

“Quit,” you say suddenly after placing yourself at the wooden bench with sights of the dated graffiti here and there. You let your stubbornness take over you, when you press on. “Why can’t you quit?”

The horrors that he has seen were unimaginable. It’s not even a figure a speech at this point. You can't imagine it as you have no idea what he does, but you don’t like how size of his paycheque seems to correlate with the level of danger that his job poses.

“I help people,” he replies quickly, and, although you want to, you can’t feel proud of him right now. He means a world to you, but sometimes you don’t know if he truly thinks the same about you. You know it’s your anger talking.

“After all these years you should have helped enough, shouldn't you?” You are harsh and impatient, and he eyes you with caution and sudden curiosity as he doesn’t see you this way before – righteously furious. Leon doesn’t know what to do with you, when he’s generally very good at thinking on his feet.

You both drink your coffee in heavy silence for a bit, listening to the chatter in the park; someone is playing a violin with their melody being too tragic to your liking.

He sighs loudly, visibly irritated, first. He doesn’t like it when two of you fight.

“What would I even do, if I quit?” His question makes you raise your brows. You don’t believe that he entertains a thought of quitting his job, but you appreciate the effort. Although you wouldn’t mind staying mad at him a tad longer.

“Marry me,” you say right away, without thinking too much. Leon can bet that you took choosing your coffee this morning more seriously, but you don’t backtrack. Sly smile is appearing on your lips, and you regret for a moment that you are in public. “I will make sure that you are busy.”

Leon is lost for words for a moment before he catches himself grinning despite his best attempts not to.

“Savage,” he calls you out mercilessly. Despite your conversation bearing a certain degree of absurdity, you definitely like him better now than moments before, when he was gasping for air back in the coffee shop.

Despite your playful mood, you don’t let him off the hook easily.

“You can’t die on me, Kennedy,” you have already accompanied him to way too many funerals to draw your own conclusions. “You better believe me, when I say that I’ll haunt you in the afterlife, if you do.”

Leon finishes his coffee at that time and throws out the paper cup before taking a place next to you at the bench. His look giving you sudden chills.

“They say in the vows, ‘till death do us part. Should we think of changing it for our ceremony?”

It takes you a never-ending second to realise what he did, and then it hits you. You can’t help it but stare at him in disbelief when he clearly enjoys the effect of his own words.

“You are unbelievable,” you conclude with conviction. This bastard just shrugs it off.

“That wasn’t me who started it, sweetheart.”

You want to slap him, but he kisses you instead, and you forget about the rest of the world for a bit. You lean into him, and the violin sounds in the distance do not seem that tragic to you anymore.

Related:

[mayweneverdie]

Heyyyyyyy I love your work do you have have any hcs on what red flags the rdr characters would have

Yes!!

RDR2 Red Flags

Cw: bad habits/behaviors, red flags (duh)

Notes: i’m putting the (who I consider) main people of the gang plus pookie bears ef and paytah, some of these red flags are already practically canon, but i cannot not add them. If you want any of the members not mentioned down below then send in another ask!!!

Sorry for dying 😭

If any of these seem ooc then send in an ask or dm me and I can review them! I got some help from @tempting-andromeda

Characters: Arthur Morgan, John Marston, Charles Smith, Sadie Adler, Javier Excuella, Dutch Van Der Linde, Hosea Matthews, Eagle Flies, Paytah

—

Arthur

Way too negative about himself

To the point it starts getting people around him negative/uncomfortable

Because they know it ain’t true

Sometimes gets too into fights and picks at you in a way that you don’t understand/catch until way after the fight

John

Trouble committing to something (or someone)

Does obviously stupid shit that can often inconvenience or hurt someone

Take responsibility? Hardly know her!

I feel he has a youngest sibling complex where he can kinda snake out of consequences

Charles

Not the greatest at communicating

Gets snippy and short when he’s at his wits end (but you wouldn’t know unless he told you)

Similarly to Arthur I think if he’s heated enough he’ll make a jab at you that you won’t realize until after the argument

Sadie

Easy to set off (though more due to trauma)

Slow to forgive

Also makes jabs but it’s very obvious and you feel it the second she says it

Rarely apologizes (too prideful)

Javier

Also slow to forgive (though isn’t as quick as Sadie to anger)

Ignores you rather than arguing or making jabs

But he will argue if pushed far enough

Dutch

Ok so what about him isn’t a red flag?

Arrogant and pompous in a ‘holier than thou’ way

But not in a Angelo Bronte way more of a savior complex way

Wandering eyes

Deceitful

If its you and him running from a pack of wolves but they all have one limb he’s still pushing you down to make sure he gets away

Uses gifts and services as leverage

“I give you xyz and you act like this?” “Even after all I’ve done you won’t do this/that?”

Ik his list is way longer than the others but like…

It’s Dutch

Hosea

Kind of condescending in a very fatherly way

Also like dutch but it’s very discreet

I cannot stress this enough but in many aspects they are different sides of the same quarter

This man is a con artist so he’s manipulative in subtle ways

Similar to Dutch he also uses things he gives or does for you as leverage

Except more nice like “Since I did abc it’s fair you do xyz.”

Drum roll please…

Eagle Flies!!!!

Like Sadie he’s quick to anger and slow to forgive

But it’s mostly as a defense mechanism and not because he’s an asshole

Doesn’t communicate and tries to find the quickest way to solve something or to send a message

Has the ‘you’re either with me or against me’ mentality

Spoiled as in wants things his way

Paytah!!!!

Shout out @tempting-andromeda for helping me with Paytah’s portion!!!!

Ends up ignoring you and others a lot accidentally (ie replies in his mind but doesn’t verbalize it)

Gets super defensive even if you’re on the nose about it (esp if it’s concerning his home life)

Subconsciously labels everything like if one girl he knows likes pink then that must mean all girls like pink

And it’s gotten him in very avoidable situations.

—

AGGHGGHH I’M FINALLY POSTING SOMEWHAT AGAIN!!!! Sorry for falling off the face of the earth, it will happen again!

[berryz-writes]

To Have And To Hold...Till Death Do Us Part

Azriel x reader

Summary: Azriel has spent decades centuries on trying to find his mate. A mate is supposed to be that one constant person in you're life. But as we all know Azriel was damned to an unlucky fate

Note: FIRST TIME WRITING ANGST be nice<3. also yes i will be reverting to fluff again. its my little cosy corner :)

The dry, bland taste of the oats coated Azriel's tongue and he fought to swallow it down. A fight similar to his will to get out of bed every morning. Also similar to the fight of carrying on each day.

Mindlessly stirring his food which had now gotten cold he thought about what he would do for Star fall next week. Maybe he would get drunk so he wouldn't remember the night. Or maybe he would go up to the balcony to get the "best view" but in fact sulk in a corner because he didn't have a special someone to share the night with.

Pulling himself back to reality and berating himself for being ungrateful and forgetting about how much his family had done for him, Azriel watched one of his shadows depart and slowly move across the table until it had reached the open French doors. He tried calling it back but to no avail. Taking a deep breath Azriel continued eating, his shadows were always up to something. Maybe it was bringing back important information. Like maybe who his mate was.

His heart became heavy again at the thought. Still no mate. Azriel had seen so many things, lived through so much and sometimes he thought he deserved a mate. Sometimes when he wasn't so absorbed in self hate he thought to himself maybe he did deserve a mate like Rhys had Feyre or Cassian had Nesta. The thought left him as soon as it had appeared. He shook his head, he didn't deserve a mate. He would ruin her. He wasn't good enough. No where near good enough.

Scoffing at himself for even going down the path of thinking he out of all people could have a mate, he carried on eating his oats, finishing them in record time to get to training with the Valkyries and the priestesses.

***

"Isn't that your shadow?" Nesta asked pointing toward a lone shadow which was making it's way back in to the house, moving across the training ring floor and the edges of the walls before it disappeared completely. She was laying down on the mat, sweat dripping down her face. It had been an intense training session, Nesta having started to channel her anger into physical exercise resulted in Azriel having to hold the punching pads tighter than usual. He was happy for her. Glad she was better now and getting used to her fae body.

"It is" Azriel replied, his confusion increasing slightly. They were acting extremely strange. And the one that had left this morning still hadn't come back. Not to mention the shadows still with him were dancing around as if they were waiting for something. He shrugged it off. It was probably a new bakery or some drama from Velaris they had picked up on. Nosy pricks.

Nesta's silver eyes held concern, "Are you okay?" She bit her lip there was something like recognition in her eyes, as if she once held the same vacant stare that he did. "Are they usually like this?" Nesta questioned again, sitting up and trying to read his expression. He shook his head, flipping his water flask upside down to realise it was empty "They'll come back eventually"

She stood up and brushed her clothes down "You could get it checked. I heard Madja's working late today"

Azriel tried not to get angry. It wasn't as if she would know how it was basically impossible for any healer to ever help him.

"We'll see" He replied instead, already brushing the idea away. All he'd get was an afternoon wasted and a whole lot of poking at his back and wings. It wasn't that big of a deal. Well...that's what he hoped.

***

Flipping the dagger in his hand he began to sharpen the other side, making sure it was as sharp as possible so it would make a clean cut. He didn't need more blood on his hands. Well more than usual anyway. Looking to his right he saw Cassian stretching out his wings and yawning "I'm off to bed. Don't stay up past your bedtime" He grinned. Azriel shook his head a smile on his face even though the joke wasn't funny.

"I won't" Azriel lied. Cassian looked at him for longer than usual as if trying to figure something out. Of course he didn't. Azriel's secrets were too well hidden.

"I'm here if you ever need to talk" Cassian said resting a hand on his shoulder. Azriel gave him a rare smile and patted his hand "I know brother"

Leaving him to sit peacefully on the roof Azriel looked up at the sky. Automatically his eyes searched for the one star constellation he loved. Lyra it's name was. His mother had pointed it out to him when he was young. Said it was one of the constellations that would never leave him. Sometimes it felt like this constellation was the only stable thing in his life. Something that would never leave him and so far it was living up to it's reputation.

***

All fucking night his shadows had been restless, moving about and not letting him get one minute of sleep. Yes he ran on 4 hours of sleep perfectly fine but his shadows didn't even let him close his eyes for one minute without being irritating. Not to mention his shadows from previously hadn't come back. What the fuck was their problem?

Finally giving up he went down to the kitchen, drank a glass of water and stomped upstairs on to the balcony. His shadows were still making incessant noises and moving around too much for this early in the morning. Azriel walked over to the edge of the roof, standing on the edge and freefell down down down.

The air hit him at the perfect angle and gods did he wish he could keep falling. If he hadn't opened his wings at the right time he would have died but who really cared? It was just him after all.

He flew over Velaris, the sun barely visible resulting in a still and quieter city at this time. Not to mention it was Saturday, most of the fae probably nursing their hangovers right now. He veered left toward the Sidra, going past Feyre's bright and cosy artists corner, following his shadow at a leisurely pace as it stopped in front of what seemed to be a row of houses. They were bright and colourful, pale pinks and bright blue's, pleasing to look at. Settling on the roof of a house opposite them he watched the sun rise, his shadows finally calm. It felt like his heart was calm too.

A few minutes of sitting led to one of the rooftop doors opening and......and Azriel couldn't describe what and who stepped out.

She was a goddess.

She was the fulfilment of his dreams.

She was the most ethereal fae he had seen.

She was...gods words couldn't describe her never ending beauty. Moving toward her flowers towards the right of the roof she began to water them, her soft brown hair falling forward and covering her face slightly. His heart hurt. He didn't know why.

He could stare at her for an eternity. Her green eyes sparkled in the sunlight, her pink lips looked like they could say the sweetest words. Like they could soothe any pain he had from one whisper of her sweet voice. He swallowed.

He wanted to talk to her. Enjoy her company. Make her smile. Make her laugh. Watch as her eyes brightened because of him.

He could change. For her he could, he thought to himself as she stood up from watering the roses and looked at the sun rise too.

Her cheeks held a slight blush, hair dishevelled as though she had just gotten out of bed. Azriel was cataloguing each and every thing about her, storing it into his memory to cherish.

Clenching his fists and readying himself, memorising what he would say to this oh so gorgeous female he extended his wings.

Softly landing behind her, he felt like his tongue was twisted. Her hair fell in waves down her back, her arms wrapped around herself.

Taking a deep breath he cleared his throat. She whipped round and it felt like time stopped.

Her hand rested on her chest and her eyes were wide with surprise. Beautiful. That was all that went through his mind as he drank her in, looking at each and every perfect feature.

"Who are you?" His heart felt like it would burst from happiness. Her voice was music to his ears. She had straightened up slightly, her shocked expression gone as she patiently waited for Azriel to speak. He didn't want to. What if he messed it up?

"Azriel. Sorry I....I didn't mean to invade your privacy I-" He cleared his throat cursing under his breath for his stupid twisted tongue. Her lips turned up in a small smile as if she was encouraging him, waiting for him to finish. Like she actually cared for what he had to say.

"I just saw you watching the sunset- not that I was watching you...I meant I just saw you here-" A small laugh escaped her as she watched him struggle. He knew one thing. It was that his heart was no longer his. It was hers. His soul belonged to her. His broken and bloody soul was hers however much it had gone through.

Falling in love was impossible he used to think but looking at her now, he thought it possible.

He was so busy in trying to memorise her face he didn't realise his shadows from earlier swirling around her wrists and waist as if they had found their home.

"It's alright. Lets watch the sunset together, the view's gorgeous from here" Her soft voice beckoned him closer and as she turned back around her arm knocked one of the vases. She turned around trying to grab it and in that split second, she fell.

Over the roof and down to where Azriel couldn't see her.

His heart raced as he ran to the edge and jumped down onto the concrete floor, using his wings to slow his descent.

He had heard the sickening thud when she had fallen but he refused to believe it.

He watched as her lifeless body lay there.

Still.

The life in her completely gone. Silence rang in his ears, his throat closed up, he wanted to rip out his heart. Why?

Why?

Why?

Why was all he could think about it as he looked at her broken form. Blood pooled from her head, a puddle of deep red gathering around her hair. His shadows swarming around her, frantically trying to do something.

Maybe if he weren't so useless. Maybe if he had any dignity or shame he wouldn't have stared on and could have helped her. It felt like his voice was lost.

He looked at her dead eyes and when he did it snapped. The golden thread sparkling between the two of them, connecting them, before dying out again. The moment of completeness vanished in a split second.

Mate.

She was his mate.

He let out a tortured scream, his own voice ringing in his ears. His legs weakened as he dropped to the ground next to her, his energy depleted.

Tears slipped down his face and for the first time he didn't wipe them away. Didn't berate himself for crying because this....this was a tragedy everyone should have cried over. But instead it was only him watching her once smiling face lay face down on the concrete.

Why was it him? He hadn't even gotten to see her smile properly because of him. Hadn't been able to hear her speak completely. Hadn't heard the sweet words she was sure to voice if he ever got the chance to get to know her. 

His eyes wouldn't leave her body as he choked out sobs, eyes blurry and wanting to look away from her limp body at the same time. His....His mate.

The word left him feeling empty. All he wanted was right in front of him except she was gone. She was dead and it was because of him.

His hands shook, his control slipping away as time passed, slowly reaching for her. He gently touched her hair ever so softly as if maybe she were sleeping and she would wake up. Slowly moving it to the side, he could finally see her beautiful beautiful face. A face which had been removed of all colour and life.

A strangled sound escaped him as he looked on unable to tear his eyes away. His heart fractured into so many pieces he didn't know what he'd do anymore. How could he live without her? Life wasn't worth living without her.

His mate.

Tears made his vision blurry as he tried to memorise her perfect features. She was a poem he would never be able to memorise. She was the dream he was always so far from reaching. She was his except she wasn't. Not anymore. Because she was gone.

He wished he could take her place. Wished he had died after seeing his mate. He would have died happy. Finally would know what true happiness was before dying.

Any alternate way of living his heart didn't know how to. Without her in his life he couldn't search for any reason for continuing on.

Gods he didn't even know her name. At the thought of this his lips pressed together trying to stop the heart wrenching scream he wanted to release. He didn't even know her damn name.

His mate.

His mate who was lying dead in front of him. Looking down at his hands he saw they were shaking, so was his body. He didn't deserve to live. This perfect female in front of him wasn't able to live her life so why should he, a broken and unlovable torturer?

The glint of his dagger beckoned to him. It would be oh so easy to end things now. Stab himself through the heart and lay down, lifeless just like his mate. At least they would die together. Taking out his dagger he looked at. Really looked at it.

The fates had known.

This was why he had sharpened his dagger. For this exact reason.

If his mate didn't deserve to live neither did he. He lifted the dagger, tears streaming down his face, his heart broken in too many places to fix, no one left for him in this world. Looking at his mates face for the last time he pushed the dagger straight into his heart.

Fitting ending he supposed. After all the killing he had done, he had ended his own life. Blood seeped from the stab wound but he didn't care. He tried to touch her face one last time, extending his hand,  but he couldn't. Because he had collapsed onto the cold floor next to her, unable to touch her for the first and last time.

He was damned. His fate was unlucky.

He was a bastard who didn't deserve anything.

Without even realising his shadows had left him too.

"LYRA" A heart wrenching scream echoed in his ears as the blood emptied out his body. That was his mate's name.

Lyra

If he were still alive he would have smiled and cried at the irony of it all but he wasn't. His eyes now stared straight up as his heart no longer pumped blood.

A fae walking past would see it as a tragedy but it was more than that. It was a man who would never get a happily ever after no matter how much he wished for it. It would be a story passed down to generations. A story with no happy ending.

***

If only Azriel had known that he was in fact loved. That he did have people that held him close to their heart

If only he had known.

Rhys who was waiting in his meeting room for their debrief.

Cassian who had set up a game of chess for him and Azriel to play.

Nesta who thought up new techniques for fighting that she would show him the next morning.

Feyre who was painting his portrait in her art studio.

Nyx who was waiting for his favourite uncle to come home so they could fly together.

Little did they know Azriel would never come home again.

....first and last time writing angst :) if u can even call it that

MASTERLIST

[al-astakbar]

☆ The Gift -- Thrawn x reader ☆

>title ☆ The Gift ☆part 10/?

>summary ☆ As congratulations for his recent promotion to Grand Admiral, Emperor Palpatine gives Thrawn a gift -- a young woman who has been trained as a pleasure companion.

>pairing ☆  Thrawn x reader ☆ word count [2.1k] ☆ warnings for this part ☆ spanking, sex, dirty talk > series warnings ☆ dubious consent; sexual slavery; concubine/ sex slave AU; will add more warnings as more parts are posted

>series navigation ☆ part 1 ☆ part 2 ☆ part 3 ☆ part 4 ☆ part 5 ☆ part 6 ☆ part 7☆ part 8 ☆ part 9 ☆ part 10

>posted on ao3

author note!! To be very clear, in this story reader is a concubine against her will and is gifted to Thrawn, but there is at no point any noncon between Thrawn and reader. Reader is never noncon with anyone, either referenced or explicitly, and there is never any explicit noncon. However, this is a darker take on Thrawn and he doesn't really have many hangups about putting his gift to use...

Cheunh translations at the end***

A pervasive sense of guilt makes the early days of your acquaintance with Thrawn especially dark. You had hoped that perhaps with time and of course, the demands of a Grand Admiral’s schedule, he might lose interest in you. 

He doesn’t. He watches you, somehow still aloof, but you catch him in moments when his curiosity burns bright in those red eyes. What exactly he wants from you, you aren’t certain. Sometimes you think he just wants you gone, or at least out of his way. Only his desire for you is clear. And feeling the force of that pure, carnal need… for you. On you. In you… 

Your resolve not to enjoy it, and not to let him corrupt your will, are tested constantly. 

Every time you get hot, thinking about his hands on you, it’s accompanied by shame. Shame for your physical need to feel his touch and for liking it and wanting more. Shame for this sort of unexpected connection with him, of all people. Someone lower ranking, maybe, that wouldn't have been so bad. Everyone needs a job, and not everyone joins the Empire because they agree with its policies. But Thrawn... he's high enough in the chain of command to know what he's doing, what he's enforcing, the systems he's holding up-- he has to have some idea of how it’s hurting people. 

You should not be comfortable with him, partaking in the luxury of a warm, soft bed and good food and leisure time. You should not enjoy arguing with him, and you should not like the way he almost smiles when he tells you that you have the temperament of a gundark. 

Worse, you should not daydream about him. You should not think longingly of how it would feel for him to truly, completely possess you. He could have hidden you away somewhere, found a small compartment for you, stashed away like a toy for him to take out and use for his amusement. The thought of it is not as off-putting as you tell yourself it should be. And there is the center of all of it, the silent, deepest sort of shame. Some awful part of you likes-- wants-- to be subject to his whim.

All these conflicting feelings and frustrations make you very bratty. You know you’re testing his patience, just can’t help it. First and second infractions, he frowns at your bad behavior, and if he feels like it, he’ll tie you up and gag you. Ignore you for hours, sometimes. Being messy with your clothes and dishes, leaving your nicely embroidered garments in piles on the floor, going slow getting ready, just being generally contrary… the third time you do something he’s already told you not to do, he bends you over his desk and spanks you. Not playful. No warning. This is the discipline he promised that first night. He manhandles you, ignoring your cries of surprise, and then your tears. He pins you down, one strong arm across your lower back, legs bracketing yours so you can’t kick. Even though the fabric of your robes is quite thin, he always rucks it up. Bare skin to his full uniform. Humiliating. Most of the time he doesn’t bother to take his gloves off. 

He presses himself against your hip to keep you in place, and as he does, you can feel his cock getting hard. It’s worse for your self control, knowing that it turns him on too. You can only pray that he doesn’t notice what he’s doing to you. He goes slow, timing and placing each sharp smack exactly as he wants. Never quite in the same spot.  Each one sends a new shock of arousal through you, the stinging pain somehow striking directly in your core and setting your nerves alight. He spanks your ass and you feel it in your cunt. You feel empty. You yearn for him, to have his cock fill you, overstretch you, to clench and feel nothing else but his hot, hard shaft. 

Your squirming and crying and begging do not sway him to be merciful. His attentions leave your ass hot and red, and he tells you it will help you to better mind him. He watches you keenly the rest of the day, as if he can sense your pulsing, unmet desire. As if daring you to ask him for what you need.

One morning, when he’s done, he does not flip the fabric back down. He leaves you exposed, a teary, quivering mess. 

“I’m sorry,” you say, sniffling. You had kept tapping your foot while at the breakfast table with him, and after he had told you to stop, you had done an insolent extra tap. Other times, he has admonished you for leaving your nice robes on the floor in a careless pile. He always picks them up, examining them with interest, and then drops them again, only to order you to clean up after yourself. 

“I know,” he says, not unkindly. He smoothes a hand over your abused skin. “You will learn. You’ll learn to ask for what you want..”

What you want…  The words catch in your throat, and end as a strangled moan. He caresses you, much too gently. He was not supposed to be like this.

You hear the rustle of shifting fabric, so familiar now, you know what it portends. Then you feel him, blunt and hard at your entrance. You have to stop yourself from pushing your hips back. He exhales in satisfaction as he sinks into you. Inch by inch, nothing forced. He runs his hands up and down your sides, following your curves. Taking his size is still not easy, no matter how slow he goes or how wet you are. You had never followed his first-night edict of making yourself ready for him. 

He rocks his hips, deeper still, and the pain of the spanking tips over to a sweet, aching soreness. Release is right there, so close and so tempting. You can’t help clenching around his thick, hard cock and he huffs out a breath when he feels it. “Mar… tta ba csei. K’ir hah csaah, eunh in’a.” 

You grab at one of his hands to steady yourself, to remind yourself that it’s him, that no matter how enticing his voice sounds, how rough with need in whatever language he’s speaking, how fucking good his cock feels as he fucks you open-- your pleasure is for yourself and not him. You must cling to that.. But he likes this too. He likes you. He gets hard every time he spanks you, and the reminder of how much that turns him on makes you tighten around him.

He slides his arm under you, lifting you to him easily, your back flush against his chest. He holds your breasts, one and then the other, squeezing firmly, rolling and pinching your nipples until he finds just the right amount of pressure to make you moan. And he does it again, over and over. Pulling your nipples to stiff little points to spark every nerve with brightening, insistent need. The only way you’d ever like them touched, and he figures it out in seconds. 

He’s found yet another way to torture you, tease you to madness, while still nominally respecting your wishes. “What was it you said?”  His breath is hot on your neck as he pumps into you lazily. “Don’t try to make it nice for you. Is this nice for you…?” He murmurs your name, and you would swear he’s smirking. 

He knows it is, damn him, and he stops just as soon as you begin to arch to his touch. 

“Thrawn…” You sob in frustration, “--Thrawn, I’m going to--”  at the overwhelming, singular need. You’re so close. So close to giving in, so close to asking, but you know that would only be the beginning. If you asked, he would make you beg. All it would take is one touch, maybe not even that. 

He does not wait for you. As he gets close, he lowers his mouth to suck bruising kisses onto your neck. Very briefly, you wonder what his crew would think, if they saw their venerated Grand Admiral like this. He starts to lose his rhythm, his hips grinding against your sore ass. His cock is bigger than you should be able to take-- but you are taking it. Taking all of him so good, every sense blazing with desire as he fucks you. He swears under his breath, slipping into that strange harmonic language again. 

“Vah cart bat, vim veo ch’itart’asi cart csiz.” You can feel his intensity, his need.He is going to drag you over the edge with him, if not this time, then the next, and once he does, he will truly own you. “Ch’ah-- nnhhh ravri’ihah-- ch’ah ch’epasahn ch’at ran’cah vah racan sesvio’ah ch’eo vuv.” 

You moan his name, a plea, a warning— tension in a string pulled too tight and about to snap—-

Thrawn grunts, and cums hard. His fingers dig into your bare skin, almost too hard, his thick length splitting you open as he pushes himself in to the hilt, as deep as he can go. You feel him stiffen, and then the first hot gush of his cum as his cock pulses inside you. He holds you closer, tighter, overfilling you as he likes to do. So much that you think you might feel your belly swelling up until it starts to leak out, down your legs. He keeps fucking his seed into you slowly, even as he is coming down. His breathing is ragged, more so than you’ve heard before. 

He looks so different in these moments, when you risk peeking over your shoulder to see him. His lips parted, eyes heavy-lidded, his sleek hair falling in his eyes, a purplish tinge to his cheeks which you suppose must be his species’ version of flushed skin. Imperfection looks good on him. 

When he is done, he puts his uniform right and then he tends to you. He has never yet neglected to do this. Even if he has just spanked you, and taken nothing else, he fetches a damp cloth and wipes your face. You try to ignore how nice it feels. How simple, and quiet, and intimate. That he is taking time just for you. He brings a flowery-smelling ointment  and rubs it on your bare, welted ass, soothing the skin until again, all you feel is the warm, insistent pull of arousal. 

Your imagined version of him would be much easier to hate. This kindness is some manipulation of his, you think, though you can’t quite reason through to why. The only thing he never punishes is back talk. You have a sharp tongue, he tells you once, and he finds it entertaining when you challenge his reasoning. 

“You’ll learn,” he repeats. He cleans his cum off your thighs, between your legs. “You know what you want, eunh in’a.”

You can hardly bear his touch there, so sensitive, still primed and trembling with need. He has a way of distracting you from your shame, of washing it away, at least for a little while. Nothing else matters when you want him, and he knows it. 

“What is that word?” You ask, voice small. 

He helps you stand, helps you dress. 

“What does… eunh in’a mean?” You repeat, the foreign sounds thick and awkward in your mouth. 

He does not answer. He runs his fingers over the embroidery after he has settled your robe around your shoulders— he has inspected it closely before, yet it still fascinates him. The colors--his blue skin against the gold fabric-- complement each other. 

“You do very fine work,” he says at last. 

The thought of telling him has crossed your mind a few times. You’ve even wondered if he already knows. “Did it really take you this long to figure it out?”

“I suspected the day we met. Aboard the shuttle. Your face flushed when I complimented the high quality of the work.” He tilts his head. “You are having the same reaction now. There is no need for embarrassment. As I have said, it is beautifully done.”

“I’m not embarrassed!” You begin hotly. “I’m—!”

He raises his eyebrows at your outburst. “...thank you.” You feel suddenly foolish, and rightly chastised. No one else had ever said so much as a word about it. “I’m… I’m proud of it.” You can’t help the small smile you give him. Long after he has gone up to the bridge, his words keep surfacing in your mind while you are staring out the viewport at the starfield, thinking vaguely about where you could possibly take refuge if you did manage to escape the Chimaera. Nowhere, is the realistic answer, and you are almost ready to accept that. Alone with his art, you hold on to his praise, turning it over and over like a small precious stone.

dirty Cheunh for all you freaks :)

cheunh tranx:

“Mar… tta ba csei. K’ir hah csaah, eunh in’a.” -- yes... more of that. do it again, little one

“Vah cart bat, vim veo ch’itart’asi cart csiz.” -- you are beautiful and your desperation is exquisite.

“Ch’ah-- nnhhh ravri’ihah-- ch’ah ch’epasahn ch’at ran’cah vah racan sesvio’ah ch’eo vuv.” -- i -- nnnhh fuck-- i want to feel you cum around my cock

☆join tag list☆ <- this is the easiest way to make sure your request is recorded, however anyone is also welcome to dm me if they want to be added or removed.

@thrawns-babygirl @vibratingskull @thrawns-teef-weef @aethersecho @exoplorationn @elc3004 @littlecrowtime @twilekchiss @saber-slutt @projectdreamwalker @ele-millennial-weirdo @vaarians @shoe-bag @thrawnspetgoose @nomercyforthewarrior @pb-jellybeans @twincesskorisoka @jewelliffer @cecilyjmorgenstern @mandinlore @bobaprint @bluechiss @andrakass2 @nocturneabyss @starwh0ers @obbicrystaleo @pencil-urchin

[scummy-writes]

Things I've learned about being in fandoms on tumblr

Sometimes when I am navigating fandom, I will have bouts of... depression? negative feelings? regarding it. I think a lot of people go through this, but in the areas of fandom I buzz around in, I don't see many people talking about ways to sort of re-center yourself and take care of yourself in an online space. I thought I would attempt to share some of my habits I try to follow when I hit one of these moods. So here are 14 of them covering various subjects I run into the most. They will not work for everyone, but I do encourage you to think a bit about each point and see if it would work for you.

Feel free to add some of your own, but I am looking for positive advice that is not meant to put down others in a harmful way. I would also like to preface that I've been in fandoms for over seven years, most of them smaller rather than huge, but a lot of this advice is centered around someone just trying to enjoy the space/enjoying it as a fan creator (writing fanfics in my case). The 'you' used in this is a general usage of the word 'you'.

-> It's good to celebrate milestones, whether its how many followers you have, works you've made in a year, or similar.

However... Don't let this become a competition or reasons to compare yourself to others. We're here to have fun and to celebrate us doing so- don't put completely unneeded and unnessacary competition on it. What's the point of that competition other than to make yourself feel bad or to belittle others? This extends further to notes - no number games. none. You can be proud of the numbers you have gotten, but curb all impulses to swing that in a negative way. The second that starts happening, talk to friends. talk to someone IRL. do something that isn't staring at your notifs, immediately. Even if its listening to silly things while washing the dishes- get out of your notifs tab!!! The numbers game isn't a game you have to be a part of, ever.

-> Don't put other bloggers on pedestals.

It's fine to be a fan of someone's work, and to be excited when they post or even talk to you and you're surprised by it. However, we're all just nerds together in a fandom- maybe don't put them up on a pedestal and hold their opinions/words as gospel rather than things you agree with. There's an unhealthy disconnect there for both parties, and can lead to unhealthy habits of a bad comparison game with one party not even knowing you're comparing yourself or others to them. And I promise that no one likes being pitted against others in those.

-> separating my main blog from my fandom blog has done wonders for me.

This one is a lot more of a 'me' thing that MIGHT be helpful towards others, but it's such a nice thing to have a 'normal' space where I don't have to worry too much about fandomisms but want to be online. I want to reblog other things that are not just fandom related and I don't want people from the fandom blog bothering me for. For the longest time I wasn't very upfront with my main blog purely because I wanted that separation, but for others to block me properly I put it up more bluntly.

I also think that this is good when you want to write about some things, but are nervous. In my example, I get nervous writing about my ocs. So what did I do? Made a sideblog for one, briefly mentioned it, and I post untagged drabbles at times when trying to explore her character. It's more practice on not caring about the note amount each post gets for me, and it makes me more at ease with things not getting any notes while exploring different subjects I don't usually write about.

-> Does everyone seem horrible, or are you just not in a good mood?

This is silly and maybe redundant for some, but it's good to keep a track of IRL verses Online. If IRL is weighing you down so much that you use online as an unhealthy habit (self destructive behaviors towards things you worked hard on, lashing out at friends for things out of their control, lashing out on other bloggers for inane things, focusing your bad mood on notes or fake popularity contests...) then try and figure out the big important things: Have you eaten, slept, drank enough water through the day, or are in pain/annoyance with something offline that you're not realizing? Is it one person online making you feel like this? Have you blocked them? Have you taken healthy breaks offline to reground yourself? When i am randomly bitter about the online world, this is typically my frustrations with smth IRL leaking out, and so I do something to help process that or to breathe through it. My personal go to is getting out of the house so I can listen to music, watch silly videos while putting together a simple craft I bought, or doing chores/playing games.

-> Is the fandom full of cliques, or are you witnessing friends just talking to each other?

I get it, it fucking sucks not being involved in a friend group. You know what makes that worse? By looking at other's friend groups bitterly and making up shit in your mind to justify it. The reality is this: people will be friends with a limited number of people, and frequently talk to them because that is who they are comfortable with.

You not being in that friend group does not mean there is anything wrong with you OR them. The honest truth is that it's hard to keep up with a ton of friends at once, and so people may not respond to your messages, or they might mean to but it gets lost in their hectic IRL, or they just don't mesh with you- and all of that is normal!

And... Really... It takes work to build up a friend group. You have to get out of your comfort zone and send the first few messages. You have to embrace the fact that it's possible a friendship won't pan out. It's natural, it's normal, and doesn't mean there is anything wrong with you or the other person. After trying and naturally just talking to people in the fandom, I promise that you will find a friend group of your own.

We are all socially awkward people trying to nervously talk to each other. Yes, even the people you follow that seem like 'everyone' likes them- they are nervous too. we're all just nerds here, remember that.

-> Understand that no one is obligated to do anything.

This ranges from so many things. Here is a list as short as I can manage it to get my point across: No one is obligated to comment, read, like, or reblog any posts. Any posts. No one is obligated to scour for new creatives in the fandom spaces and reblog their work. No one is obligated to tag their posts/creative adventures to your liking. No one is obligated to follow by your DNIs and BYFs. Obligation does not exist. Even your friends are not obligated to do any of this.

It is courtesy to do these things. Blogs will do their best to be supportive by nature, and to try and at least do some of this at any given time, but it's not a requirement. It's NICE to do so and encouraged, but the second you drill it into your head that no one, not even you, are obligated to do this, it's a bit easier to breathe and accept that no, it's a bit insane and difficult to read through 50 fanfics a week and comment a paragraph on all of them while also working on your own things and trying to manage 15 conversations while working 40 hrs a week and and and---

Instead, focus that energy on friends and yourself when you can and accept your own limitations.

-> have other fandoms you enjoy where you DON'T feel pressured to do ANYTHING.

Due to my hard fixation at usually one to two games at a time, I am usually only writing for those at a time- but I need other things to enjoy where I don't feel like I need to make something to post online. I don't feel that pressure from myself, i don't feel the need to try and engage with others. Just a quiet enjoyment for me.

-> If creating is really stressing you out and making you feel worse than better, reflect on the reasons this may be.

Are you hanging out with people who are regurgitating really bad beliefs regarding creation ("shame, you only got twenty notes, that's nothing", "wow fifty notes? that flopped.", "how did this person's shitty work get 30 more notes than me?"). Are you getting anons putting you down? Is your depression convincing you what you've made is worthless? Look at some of the points in this post regarding friends, blocking, and if you're neglecting your body's needs. If that still persists, there may be some self-reflection as to why things get to you so badly. Try to journal out the reasons why until you believe you hit one that is not your depression speaking.

An example: I would freak out about notes because I had friends that would talk around or to me in the examples listed in the previous paragraph. Cutting them off, focusing on friends who focused on the joys of creating, and focusing more on what *I* wanted to write rather than requests... I still get depressed at times but it's been so much more managable now with better support and feeling free creatively. Usually calling myself out at staring at notes helps me shake my head and move on now.

-> Blocking/Filtering is your friend, but maybe don't over do it.

Blocking seems vaguely controversial at times, but I do believe it's needed for a positive fandom experience. Outside of the obvious, the reasons I block people are typically related to how upset I am by something the person has done or said, even if it's related to fancreations. If it's something like them berating others for not believing their headcanon/fanon? Or grossly demonizing some character's mental illness? Or harassing people who dislike some characters and vice/versa? That's all a block for me.

I personally try not to overdo it and make educated decisions based on like, hey, is this just someone misunderstanding and not realizing how they're coming off? Is this someone who I am misreading their tone? Is this just a weird one-off behavior? Ok, then maybe no block button. But if seeing poor takes makes you angry for longer than, say, 20 mins? an hour? It's a week later and you're still all huffy about it and legit pissed? Maybe dig into that while also blocking the person for now.

The Filters aspect of this is similar, but it's a lighter version of blocking for me. Maybe I don't want to block this person but seeing them talk about bugs really stresses me out, so I look at how they tag those posts and filter it out for myself. Maybe I love their fandom blog but they're multi-fandom, so i will filter out a fandom I don't want to see them post about. That's it.

-> Don't be afraid to cut anon off, even if it's for a few weeks at a time.

I feel like those of us who take requests for fan creations are terrified of this a lot, but truly, taking breaks from the anon function should be encouraged. It is indeed a button for shy people, but there are assholes everywhere regardless. When they occupy your time too much or just annoy you, take away their ability to actually say anything to you.

For a creative, sometimes this can feel like the end of the world. But... you Can turn it back on later. I frequently shut it off during major life events, fanfics I am worried I might get weird anons about, when I'm in a randomly bad mood and don't think I can handle it. I Sometimes have it off for months at a time. You can cut it back on. But if anons make you anxious just imagining getting one right now? Flip that off for now. (also please utilize the block function for mean anons!!!)

-> turn those tumblr notifs OFF!!! (mobile) Additional: Turn your status OFF!!!

The only notifications I get on my phone from tumblr is when someone IM's me, and I've had it like this for years. I cannot imagine having my phone constantly going off with random tumblr notifications, I think I would have a bad spike in anxiety having that happen. It would make any negative feelings with notes/followers/number worse for me.

The online status is debatable, some people really don't have an issue with this, but I tend to feel pressured to respond to people asap if they see that my status is online and similar. Those people have not said anything to me regarding it, it's just my personal issue. So..I turn that status off. And it helps me feel better about answering in my own time.

-> Look at who you are communicating with.

Do your friends regularly dunk or mock people on the daily, over shit that is inane and petty? Are you a creative a bit nervous with your work because your friends are pretty rude with how they view other's works? Are you scared to like a character because your friend severely hates them/is attached to them to an unhealthy degree?

There are other subsets to this, but those are ones I find really troubling and try my best to avoid. I dont want to be friends with people who regularly mock others on the legit daily. I don't want to be friends with people who nitpick notes and use notes as a measure on how much worth someone has. I don't want to be friends with people who mock other's creative endeavors.

So... I don't! If I notice things are becoming a salt pit, I try to talk things out at first, but if its clear that's not gonna work, then it's outties for me. It's very true that everyone will salt over something eventually, but it's up to you to decide how severe it is with your friend circle, how it wears you down, and are they really people you want to hang around with if they just make you anxious or stressed all the time?

-> That vaguepost isn't about you.

Friend venting about someone who sounds oddly like you? Does your favorite blog mention something they dislike and you think you fit into that catagory- guess what. It's not about you!!

It's something I struggled with for a while, but eventually I came to terms with it by going "If they truly have an issue with me, they can talk to me one on one. Otherwise, i am assuming that this isn't about me" and gritting my teeth and forcing myself to repeat that until I feel at ease. Truthfully, I also just stopped hanging out with people who do this a ton in a harmful way, so my anxiety about this decreased. If it's an issue, friends should be willing to bring it up to you personally rather than make really meanspirited vagueposts.

-> A personal one I am putting at the end since I believe can easily turn bad, is... Stop looking in the fandom tags if they continiously bum you out.

I will be transparent, I've had bouts of running into a ton of 'why you should love/hate this character' posts over and over, posts that are random but use 50 different character tags, posts about how annoying my fave is, posts from/about bloggers I dislike, etc etc. After a while, I decided to just curate my feed via whoever I was following, and stop looking into tags as often. At most, I do it once every 1-3 months.

Yes, this does limit what all you can see, however... There's only so much information I can take in at once. If I follow people who reblog a ton of fandom content I love and it's different across the board, that's good enough for me and I don't feel negative looking at the tags sometimes.

[kumememe]

new beginnings (felix catton x m!reader)

warnings: none, just felix being intrigued by you. proofread a little bit, might do a part two soon if people like it. send in requests if you want, but note that I only do male and transmasc readers. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------

a cool autumn breeze danced gently across the field of webbe college, gracing the students with its presence. the sun softly casts its sunlight upon the old, slightly rustic buildings as they emit a yellow-orange glow. the timely place felt as if nothing had changed or caught the attention of students until- felix catton. the so-called 'prince of oxford,' the shining star amidst the otherwise dark and gloomy galaxy. the moment he stepped in on campus, everyone knew who he was. he wasn't doing it intentionally, it was just what the universe has bestowed upon him. it's just how he naturally is. he was meant to be the center of attention, the one who gets everything and anyone he wants without any effort. with his six foot-five stature, fluffy dark hair, flashy smile, and aloof nature- he brings people in like a moth to the light. students would do anything to be in his posse because of his magnetic charm, where they hang onto his every word as if he were a saint on a pedestal. at this point, people may as well bow down to him and kiss his feet. it is not like he wouldn't mind, after all, since that is how his life has always been. his aura was hard to miss, hard to ignore, and yet.. someone changed that.

felix took a drag of his cigarette as he leaned against the wall of the college hallways, talking to some students who wanted to ask him about something unimportant. he was used to girls and boys asking him about the most mundane things just to get closer to him, the touch him subtly on the shoulder with their flirty gazes. it was normal, but oh so boring. he listened to some girl chatter on about how she wanted to take him out sometime, but his focus was caught somewhere else, specifically across the hall. a guy, about average height, wearing a windbreaker jacket that hugged his figure nicely, chunky glasses that almost hid his piercing e/c-colored eyes, black denim jeans that accentuated his thick thighs, and a pair of tattered sneakers that looked like it was worn for years. he observed his mannerisms quietly, the conversations that occurred around him quickly falling silent as his eyes stuck to the male across the hall. felix knew that he was just another average joe, but something about the way the other male quietly walked inside the library, adjusted his headphones, and avoided those around him... it made felix realize how out-of-place the latter was.

felix quietly makes his way toward the boy, ignoring the stares that he gets from the confused posse around him as they watch him do so. his confident stride noticeable from afar, fixing his hair a bit as he followed him inside the library. He quietly makes his way to the counter, leaning against it as he watches the other return his books. he cleared his throat as he showed off his charming grin, "hello." startled, the mysterious figure took his headphones off, letting it hang around his neck as he nodded slightly to the taller male, "hey." the mysterious figure didn't budge nor adjust his attitude when it came to felix, which surprised the tall male slightly. he was used to people having immediate recognition of his significance or popularity as they cower to him like prey when they meet the predators, but with the latter, it seemed like barely even knew who he was. at that moment of unfamiliarity, he feels a blend of intrigue and disbelief, pondering if the latter was the only one who didn't know of his power.

noticing felix's sudden silence, the peculiar fellow raises his brow. "...have we met before?" he asked as he left the counter slowly, watching as felix instinctively followed him to continue their conversation. felix snaps out of his thoughts, "no, it appears we haven't. i'm felix catton." felix extends his hand towards the latter, who hesitantly shakes it while giving a small smile. "i'm y/n. y/n l/n."

felix smiles at the way y/n's soft hands grazed against his as the latter pulled it away, eyes meeting with felix's. "felix catton, i've heard of that name before..." y/n put a finger to his chin as he tried to remember where he heard it from. "really? what have you heard about me?" felix smirked, feeling his arrogance seep through his calm and nonchalant facade. y/n hums, "not much, it's just that you kind of own this place in a way."  felix let out a small laugh at his observation, he liked the fact that y/n had no clue who he was, and it was refreshing. furthermore, it was a nice change of pace.

"are you a new student here?" felix asks, and y/n nods slightly as he makes his way to the physics section of the library. his hand softly follows the outlines of the books, carefully reading the title on the spine to check which ones he needs for class. "sort of, I just shifted to the course i've wanted since day one," y/n says as he takes out a book from the shelf, looking at the contents in its first page, "which is physics and philosophy." felix leans against the shelf with an interested look, his eyebrows arched in curiosity. "those two are quite a pairing, aren't they? philosophy and physics are the opposite of each other." he states, as y/n shrugs with a grin. "that's what makes it so exciting. you get the best of both worlds."

felix grins at the other male's attitude, he was interesting and mysterious, to say the least. y/n makes his way to a secluded part of the library that was near the philosopy section as felix followed like a puppy, eager to get to know the student. y/n turns to felix, "what about you? what did you take?"

"philosophy, politics, and economics." felix answers, waving it off. "it's a rather boring major to be in, honestly."

"do you not enjoy it?" y/n asks as he skims through the book, looking up at felix from time to time.

"eh, it's better than nothing," felix said as he gets closer to the shorter male in a not-so-subtle way, which was only met with a raised brow from the latter. y/n didn't bother to mention the shift in his tone as he hummed in response. "how about you, why'd you take physics and philosophy?"

y/n lets out a small scoff, "it is because, in short, i am a nerd." he says sarcastically, "and also because i enjoy pondering about stupid things such as... 'can you cry underwater?' or 'if you tried to fail and you suceeded at that, then... which one did you do?' it's silly, isn't it?"

felix snorts at y/n's own comments towards himself, finding his answers charismatic and charming. "you're quite the intriguing character, mr. l/n." felix says sarcastically.

"same goes to you, mr. catton." y/n says quickly in rebuttal, earning a cheeky scoff of approval.

as their banter continued, felix found himself drawn to y/n's energy and wit. he couldn't help but admire the way y/n's eyes lit up when discussing their shared interests, even if it was the simplest of topics such as food or music taste. it was refreshing, a departure from his usual interactions with classmates.

"hey, have you ever heard of the butterfly theory?" felix asked, leaning in closer, his curiosity piqued.

y/n looked up from the philosophy book they were skimming through, a playful grin tugging at the corners of their lips. "of course, who hasn't?" they replied, mirroring felix's proximity.

and just like that, they fell into a deep conversation about the theoretical possibilities of the butterfly effect, completely engrossed in each other's ideas and opinions. it was as if the rest of the world faded away, leaving only the two of them immersed in their discussion. the way y/n talked so elegantly and focused, smiling as he talked about his ideas of different theories. the way his long thick lashes bat down each time he blinks, the way he chews his lips when he takes his time to form a response- felix felt drawn to him like a magnet. usually, it would be people around felix feeling like such but with the roles reversed, he realized how much he wanted to get to know the latter.

as the library hours passed by unnoticed, felix realized he was enjoying y/n's company more than he had anticipated. there was something about how they laughed at his jokes and challenged his thoughts that made him feel a sense of connection he hadn't felt in a long time. eventually, the librarian's gentle reminder that the library was closing snapped them out of their engrossing conversation. "my dears, the library will be closing soon.. please, go to the front if you need to check those books out. i'll be waiting, y/n, felix." the librarian's raspy voice reminds them quietly as she strolls past them with her return cart. reluctantly, the two guys gathered their belongings and made their way out after borrowing some books, their minds still buzzing with the excitement of their discussion.

outside the library, under the soft glow of the streetlights as the sun swayed downwards with the purple and blue gradient mixing in, felix turned to y/n with a smile. "hey, would you like to continue our conversation at the nearby pub sometime?"

felix knew that there was a reason he was drawn to y/n, and he wanted more. he couldn’t help but think maybe this could turn into a real friendship or better.

y/n's eyes sparkled with excitement as they nodded eagerly. "i'd love to," he replied, a genuine smile lighting up his face.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------ this end was a bit rushed tbh, but i still like it :) if you guys also like it, reblog and heart it (idk this is awkward) i also took inspo from chai, specifically quietwinters so uhhhh.... yeah. thanks for reading.

[ollypopwrites]

Gale x Druid!Tav 🌿 Bonding with Tara

Rating: T (very brief and subtle mention of sex)

Notes: this is v domestic and I love Tara

Tara only gets to meet Tav briefly in the city but she’s known Gale long enough to know that look in his eye

Shes got manners so she’s not rude necessarily but she is stand-offish with Tav because well… she’s protective as much as Gale considers her his most dear and oldest friend he is hers and his mother is hers and he means so much to her

And Mystra well… I have a feeling Tara has some strong opinions on her. so naturally she’s cautious where she thinks he won’t be because he’s earnest and romantic and loves with his whole damn soul

And I talked about it before but! Tav and Gale have only known each other a short time, and they are certainly forged in fire so to speak but from the outside this whole thing looks like fiery whirlwind of feelings and fears of dying or becoming illithid

And Tara has concerns about that: is it going to fizzle out as quickly as it started? Is her Mr. Dekarios going to be left alone again sequestered in his tower? Is this flame going to burn him and leave another scar on his body and soul?

So if Tav accepts gales proposal and goes to Waterdeep Tara is not sure about the whole thing

And tav is… just a bit rugged in the space of Gale’s tower which can get dusty sure, and trinkets and books and quills are always somehow littered everywhere but its not quite the same

Tav’s shoes seem to always be steeped in 6 inches of mud, there’s dirt under fingernails, flowers or leaves in their hair and if Tav isn’t wearing those damned muddy shoes then they’re BAREFOOT and for all intents and purposes Tara feels like Gale found a feral stray animal and decided to bring it into the house

But Gale really enjoys it? He’s ready to renovate the tower so Tav can have a big greenhouse, space for more animals and they’re going on more outings to explore the wildlife around the harbors and beaches and Gale is beginning to sport a lovely tan and Tara isn’t sure she’s ever seen him spend so much time out of the tower but he’s practically glowing and she’s hard pressed not to be pleased he found someone who will literally make him touch grass

And despite being a Druid Tav doesn’t care when Tara hunts little mice and errant birds (which she definitely made a show of dropping small animal carcasses on the windowsill to once Tav nursed some injured bird back to health) but Tav just shrugged cuz circle of life and all that just please none of my pets thank you ms. Tara

She also lingered in the bedroom many a night because she’s a little shit who knows Gale won’t even take off his shirt if she’s there but then they started locking themselves in the bathroom and she flies off to his mothers house the moment she hears bath water start sloshing through the door

She admires the fact that Tav is not put off by Tara’s incredibly forced indifference and tendency to sit between them in the study because well Tav understands nature and she knows sometimes creatures become attached or just simply don’t want you to fuss over them or even touch them and Tara is of course, not a cat but a tressym, but the point still stands and Tav is just not bothered by any of it they’re very happy to simply cohabitate with a disinterested Tara

It isn’t until Tav wildshapes into a cat to sleep in a rare patch of sunlight during the winter that Tara breaks down

She comes over, at first sitting next to Tav and looking at her oddly but Tav just rolls onto her side and continues napping

With the unpracticed grace of a tressym who despite all her higher knowledge and powers loves scratches behind the ears and the spot on the window to watch birds fly by, she flops down to lay with Tav and its… actually quite nice especially when TAV STARTS PURRING.

And it feels nice to cuddle with someone cat-shaped almost, it taps into some far gone memory of piling with family

Thus the winter of snuggles begins where they lay in the sun and play fight and do Cat Things and Tara always flys off if she hears Gale coming around the corner and Tav never tells him about it so she’s spared any teasing and Tav never brings it up ever so as not to embarrass her

Until one day Gale finds them deeeeeeeep in a midday nap but decides not to tell them he found them

And he definitely was not teary eyed about it either that was dust in his eye

[incorrectcreepypastafam]

Creepypasta As DanAndPhilGAMES Quotes After The Revival

Toby: I’ve graduated into fuckland

Jeff: just stop speaking

Toby: okay

Toby: soft launching the gay

Jeff: I’m gonna hard launch you out of that window

Liu: know what I mean?

Jeff: no

Jeff: is it hard for you to speak sometimes

Lyra: did that work

Jeff: not really

Lyra: I tried really hard

Jeff: what is the most emo clothing we got here

Jeff: my brother, WELCOME TO THE BLACK PARADE

Lyra: look at this magnificent bitch

Brian: communities that shit together stay together

Jeff: I will try to be normal

Tim: where’s your mind at

Toby: where’s your mom at

Toby: and now I’m wet in this suit

Lyra: uhhhhhhhhhh

Lyra: you pissed?

Toby: I’m gonna stop breathing

Jeff: thank you, Toby, that’s a good volunteer

Ben: maybe they got struck by lightning

Jeff: where was the lightning bitch

Ben: I’m gonna haunt every generation of your family

Tim: should we take it in turns with the swinging?

Tim: that’s what someone’s mom said last night

Game: it’s been a long day

Liu, to Jeff: me sitting next to you

Brian: I’m grabbing my boobs

Sally: is it an alien or Squidward? What are we being chased by?

Sally: it’s hard for me to tell

Liu: THATS THE SHADOW OF THE ROSE ITS NOT A DEMON

Jeff: if that baby comes out I’m gonna kill you

Toby: I’d like that

Toby: you know what they say about big feet

Lyra: what

Toby: big socks

Lyra: okay

Jeff: half an hour montage of Tobias Rogers attempting to learn how to put on a cape

Toby: can you help

Jeff: no

Toby: and then I just saw some lightning happening in the microwave and thought “what a beautiful night for a thunderstorm”

Sally: I don’t do drugs I don’t know what grams are

Lyra: im hot I don’t know how to count

Jeff: maybe I am heaven

Sally, pointing at plastic spiders: that’s Ben. That’s Ben 2. That’s Ben 3

Liu: I’m gonna give us a solid 7/10 on that one

Jeff: just a seven? Are you fucking kidding me

Liu: I was being humble

Jeff: fuck humble

Jeff: do you ever reflect on our lives and just think… stop

Liu: yeah all the time

Tim: I wanna fuck the Eiffel tower

Jeff: dead people in France

Liu: STOP IT

Ben: im gonna hit you with a meteor

Sally: im gonna microwave you

Toby: can I just show you something

Jeff: is it a dead person in France

Jeff: im in my cougar era. Watch out twinks, Jeff is on the prowl

Lyra: I wanna do things to this house

Liu, through his teeth: what do you want to do to the house, Lyra?

Liu, through his teeth: respect the house, Lyra

Jeff: what happens when you tap the emo dragon

Liu: you want me to tap it?

Jeff: yeah

Liu: *taps dragon*

*g note plays*

Jeff: that’s damn right

Ben: I do not think playing this game is how Christ would want us to start his season but here we are

Jeff: but Santa would and so would his brother, Satan

Ben: okay

Jeff: I don’t own any sex toys that go chomp chomp

Jeff: but nice to know that you do

Jeff: I’d say Jesus Christ but I know he’s not listening right now

Toby: five strokes and you’re done

Jeff: that’s what they call me. Five strokes Jeffy

Jeff: who’s they? What am I saying?

*trying to figure out what lmb stands for*

Jeff: lobotomy maybe bestie

Toby: look mate… BITCH

Jeff: it’s making you more intelligent that’s why you’re winning at golf

Jeff: we finally found a way to fix you

Sally: you’re banned from friendship

Ben: this is a safe space

*literally five minutes later*

Ben: point at the guy who doesn’t know how to crouch

Lyra: I would like you all to tell me how I can be better at this game

Ben: um don’t walk down hole

Lyra: okay

*playing Lethal Company*

Jeff: Ben’s not here let’s have a party

Ben: please get back on the ship or I’ll be leaving without you

Jeff: we thought we found a wheel. It was a mine

Jeff: they’re both fucking dead as fuck

Ben, laughing: good job

Jeff: Tim, you’re a top bunk kinda guy right?

Tim: that’s not what Tumblr says

Jeff: is that brown Grimace

Jeff: what the fuck am I looking at

Toby: I’ve never watched an episode of My Little Pony

Jeff: no because you’re normal

Game: who invented the lightning rod

Sally: me

Lyra: what’s the opposite of tears

Jeff:

Jeff: piss

Jeff: and the moral of the story is

Jeff: fuck books

Jeff: get paper cuts

Liu: no

Jeff: what

Liu: stop

Jeff: oh I missed this completely

Liu: is there some kind of grimy wall from your childhood we need to talk about

Jeff: it’s you bitch

Lyra: I put up flyers for car washing. I washed someone’s car and then they said I scratched it with my rings. Why was an eight year old wearing rings?

Jeff: did they try to scam an eight year old?

Lyra: YES

Jeff: you should’ve killed them

Brian: I would give birth to a child on this

Tim: yes

Brian: I would eat the child straight off it

Tim: no

Liu: let’s just grab an apple and try our best

Toby: hey Siri what’s 25+6

Ben:

Ben: girl-

Ben: 31

Toby: 29

*playing Poppy Playtime*

Jeff, to a toy oven: come with me, Owen

Liu: Owen needs to stay where he is

Jeff: I will love you, Owen

Jeff: I don’t like to contribute I just like to judge

Liu: but, Jeff, what is a VPN?

Jeff: virtual private gnome

Liu: gnome begins with a g

Jeff: :0

Sally: everything is just too heavy

Sally: even milk like

Sally: why are you heavy

Lyra: honestly liquid needs to calm down

Lyra: you know what we say about

superstitions

Liu: that they’re not real?

Lyra:

Lyra: do you wanna fight

Toby: just like Sonic The Hedgehog we’re going speed dating

Toby: … as he was known to do

Ben: what

Toby: what fictional characters could we see here

Toby: what are you expecting

Lyra: I’m expecting an anime boy

Lyra: I don’t know who else

Toby: Bill Clinton

Lyra: okay

Toby: he’s real

Jeff: I don’t care if Mozart did this when he was five he’s a nerd

Liu, about baboons: they only live up to 30 years in the wild and 45 years in captivity

Jeff: oh my god you’ve only got a couple years left

Ben: life comes at you fast and so does Trombone Champ

Tim: unleash the babussy

Jeff: did you just g note me with a fucking trombone

Jeff: last time I lost my voice. I’m loud as fuck today you’re gonna wish I had

Lyra: they ate

Liu: okay

Jeff: I was 26 doing that on YouTube

Jeff: fuck yeah good for me

Jeff: did you know that we are celebrities

Toby: celebritenis

Jeff: we are vips

Toby: vipenis

Jeff: we are influenc-

Jeff: *vomit noise*

Jeff: what did you just say

Toby: vipenis

Jeff:

Sally: when I did 23andme it said I was 8% lobster and I think we all know why

Brian: I think I looked snatched

Toby: *dies laughing*

Brian: did I use that right

Jeff: look it’s hard being this pretty

Lyra, reading the question: if they were having a party, what would they serve

Jeff: cunt

Jeff: sorry

Toby: I mean anything could’ve slipped onto something

Jeff: what

Toby: I don’t know what I mean

Jeff: oh god

[rev-glut]

Mother Hen

Platonic Hobie Brown x Reader

Requested by @lazyslothsthings: “Reader basically mothering Hobie platonic??!”

Summary: Hobie comes back home after leaving for a few days.

Info: Fluff. Gender-neutral Reader (though Hobie jokingly calls them Mum once). 1.6k words

Notes: I didn’t explicitly say it but Reader lives in a riverside house so Hobie can keep his canal boat. Sometimes he stays there, sometimes he’s in R’s house.

He knows you’re home before he reaches the door. The lights are on and he can hear the music. Pleasantly he notes that it’s one of the songs that he frequently listens to. He knows how to play this one on guitar too. The key easily slides in and turns as he opens the door.

“Welcome back.” You call out without looking back. Currently you’re hovering over the stove and whatever you’re cooking smells good. “Did you eat recently?”

“I had a quick bite earlier.” He says, undoing his laces so he can place his shoes by the door. Quickly, yet carefully, you scan him. Eyes darting around as you catalog anything noticeable at the moment. There’s a small cut on his lip and chin, his knuckles are unsurprisingly busted too.

“Go shower, I’ll patch you up after. No if, ands, or buts, mister.” You add before he can say anything. The slotted utensil in your hand pointed at him. Hobie gives you a look that makes you raise your eyebrow.

“Alright then.”

“Thank you.” You call after him. Humming back in response, he goes to his room.

Checking the food you decide you’re satisfied and could just let it simmer on low heat while you patched up Hobie. You set out the silverware and dishes to plate the food afterwards. Retrieving the first aid kit from under the sink along with swiping your small notebook from the counter you make your way to the couch.

Setting the kit next to you, you flip through your notebook. Notes on random things, little doodles, to-do lists and supply lists are scattered across the pages. Plucking a random pencil from the table, you add small things here and there. The dark blue graphite makes its mark on the paper while you wait.

At the sound of footsteps you lift your head up with a smile and set the notebook aside. “Alright, cmon.” You pat the space next to you as Hobie trudges over to you, shirt in hand. As he sits down you grab a bandage. You won’t have to clean the cuts since Hobie already did that in the bathroom. “Picked up some of those brownies you like, by the way. They’re in the fridge. I also made some fruit salad and there’s trail mix and granola in the cupboard.” Tomorrow you’d probably make a casserole too. It’d be nice to have Hobie around helping you. He’d only been gone for a few days but still.

“Peanut butter fudge ones from the bakery?”

You snort. “Of course. Who do you think I am? The trail mix is homemade too. Made it myself.”

“Aces.”

Picking up some ointment you held out your hand so you could deal with his knuckles. He places his hand in yours. “So how you’ve been? Not in too much trouble, I hope.”

“Wouldn’t really call it trouble. Just some necessary things to stir it up.” You raise your eyebrow. “And a bit of fun.”

“Just here or is this interdimensional fun?” Usually he said where he was going before he left but with how things are and how Hobie is, things just change. Before he left earlier this week he said he’d be in town, mostly, probably.

“Bit of both.”

“Now was the interdimensional trouble Spider stuff or just some visit?”

“Just a visit to Pavitr.” Apparently Gwen had been out on a mission when he checked the Lobby. “Y’know I can take care of myself. Nothing I can’t handle.” He says as you motion him to turn to check his back.

“I know you’re a tough guy with powers but still, everyone’s gotta have someone looking out for them. I’m always in your corner, I’m always cheering you on, okay? And at the end of the day I’ll be here, waiting for you.”

“ ‘preciate it.” He really did. Even if sometimes he thought it’s a bit much, because he didn’t really need much and what he did isn’t much in the first place, he learned to stop fighting you on it, mostly.

“Gwen’s always welcomed here too.” You worry about her too, ever since Hobie brought her back saying she was gonna crash here for a few days. The girl was a nervous wreck the first few days. Something was up. She told you eventually. Most likely after some casual, yet sincere, reassurance from Hobie.

This just made you a bit concerned about the other Spiders. You hope that the others all had somewhere to go at the end of the day. Even if it was just somewhere within the Spider Society HQ. That and the hope that they too had someone to come back to after every mission, even another Spider. The way Gwen had Hobie, Jessica, and Pavitr.

“She’s left a jumper here.” He says, which is not quite what you expected. You laugh a little.

“‘Course she did. She’s got a habit of forgetting things.” You say softly. “Pav’s welcome here too. Even if it’s just for an hour.” Pavitr had a loving home to go to so he didn’t come as often or stay as long. But he and Hobie were great friends and was just a general joy to have around.

“Pretty sure he knows. But I’ll remind him.” He adds and with the way your eyes light up a bit with that glow he’s gotten so familiar with he knows that was the right thing to say. He’s gotten to know you well enough, even if you didn’t hide much.

“Someone’s gotta make sure you lot get a home cooked meal every now and then.” You say as if you haven’t been doing that for Hobie for well over a year now. “‘Sides sometimes you’re not here to yell at the bastards on the street so someone has to.”

“Ya do a pretty good job at it. I tell off bastards wherever I go anyways.”

Chuckling you stand. “Speaking of home cooked meals, there’s one waiting for you right now.” He pulls his shirt on before following you to the kitchen.

Over your late dinner you and Hobie swap stories and talk about random things. The conversation follows you two as you clean dishes together.

Drying your hands on a towel, you say, “I know it doesn’t mean much to you, since you don’t need anyone’s approval or anything, but I am proud of you, you’re doing good things, Hobie. In and out of the suit.” He’d come a long way, pushing this world towards being better, freeing everyone.

Eventually taking more of your help and even moving in with you and allowing you to take care of him. Others came and went but you’d convince him to stay since he was a different case. In this dimension at least. You’d work everything out with him, as long as you knew he was safe or where he’d gone off to you were okay. The last thing you want to do is stifle or restrict him in any way.

“Someone’s got to do it.” To him, it wasn’t really much but he knew how much it meant to others.

“It’s nice to have you home.”

“ ’s pretty nice to be back.”

“Alright. You need to go to bed, you look like you need it. And tomorrow you’re coming with me to get groceries. Dawn’s got some new stuff in inventory too. They miss you over there.”

“Alright, Mum.”

You laugh. “Go to bed, mister. And bandage up anything else.”

“Goodnight.” Your name slips off his tongue.

“Goodnight, Hobie.” You pull him into a quick hug before letting him go.

You missed him a lot. He could be gone for weeks at a time or just for less than a day then spend weeks here in town. You knew he could take care of himself in a fight, verbal and physical. He‘a confident in himself and his beliefs. That never stopped you from worrying about him, knowing he was going up against things across the whole multiverse. But you’d move heaven and Earth to make sure he was okay, that he had a home, and nothing would change that.

Bonus:

5 minutes ago Gwen had appeared in a portal with Pavitr and Peter, Mayday in tow. They spoke about Miles and Miguel and multiverse stuff. You knew Hobie would go, both to help, to take down another messed up system and just because. Now you stand on your lawn with the group.

“You lot look after each other, alright?” Your hands rest on Gwen and Hobie’s shoulders. Pavitr in between them.

“We will.” The fire in Gwen’s eyes made your own heart warm. You’re proud of her and the confidence she’s found.

“Don’t worry about a thing.” They’re a team, friends. They’d come too far now to go back.

“You’re worrin’ too much honestly.” Even though Hobie knows you couldn’t really help it.

You bring all 3 of them into a hug. “ ‘m so proud of all of you. Go help Miles and come back to me, alive.”

“Like I said, ya worrin’ too much.”

Releasing them you instead grip your shirt.“Alright, go save your friend.” Probably the multiverse as well. You didn’t really understand it, there hadn’t been enough time to properly explain it.

Hobie squeezes your arm before turning to leave. You watch them go, waving. There’s a lot you don’t understand, but you know whatever they’re doing it’s something big and as proud as you are you just couldn’t help but worry, even with all their powers and skills. The whole Spider-multiverse is after them, along with the Spot. Whatever happens though, you know things are about to change.

[glitteringcrab]

I've seen this technology before (part 2)

think of the implications think of the implications THINK OF THE FREAKING IMPLICATIONS (trigger warning for sexual abuse)

Sigh... Here we go.

First of all, let's get the easy parts out of the way.

Despite people who are being puppeteered sometimes appear to be in a fugue state (that thousand yard stare lol)--

--or, you know, puppeteered. VIOLENTLY sometimes--

--it's clear that they are also both alive and aware:

Would you say this is pretty much the definition of a mind rape?

I mean, we've seen Unity do pretty much the same thing, but the subjects never seem to be aware that they got possessed, are not traumatized nor upset (and hilariously the quality of their lives was greatly improved when Unity had taken over). I don't know if they forget because Unity is actually kind of nice and makes them forget on purpose to avoid trauma, or if it's just how assimilation by hiveminds works. In any case, it is apparent that this is simply how hiveminds live. Ugly, of course, but in the sense of "a predator has to eat" fashion. Not exactly a choice on the hivemind's part. So... technically also a mind rape, but... also not as evil as what Evil Morty has been doing.

Secondly.

Do we all agree that it seems that the receiver is above Evil Rick's eye? We can see its light going on and off, which would likely not be visible if the receiver was at the height of the bottom eyelid (I'm referring to where Evil Morty's cables are sticking out).

Indeed, the Citadel Rick does not have to stick his whole hand inside Evil Rick's face, just the fingers.

In fact, would you say the receiver is... right... about... here:

(and yes, I combined the two frames to achieve the ultimate creepy frame)

So... in the hypothetical scenario that "the reason Evil Morty has cables sticking out of his eye is that he was once puppeteered himself and some remains of the implant are still in his head"...

...would you say that the place where his own receiver must have been would be... somewhere around here:

Which, accounting for the curvature of the giant cartoon eyes (lol) might be the correct distance from the bottom eyelid if one combines the length of the cables Evil Morty already has sticking out of his eyes and the the length of the cables in the eyepatch.

At the same time, it'd be kinda weird for someone to remove the receiver but not the rest of the implant cables and stuff. I mean, if Rick C-137 was trying to remove such an implant from Morty Prime, wouldn't he be thorough about it? Wouldn't he make sure Morty Prime was completely clean?

Unless, of course, you're hastily trying to gouge your own eye out in desperation:

Oops. You too, eh?

Also, it is interesting to note that it appears Evil Rick was trying to stick the shard in his eye (the left eye, btw, where his receiver was) which is... not how one would typically try to commit suicide when you also have a throat available.

So either the mind control kept Evil Rick's hand far away from his throat on purpose, or there are built-in contingencies that ensure unauthorized removal of the receiver is akin to a death sentence...

...which (in the hypothetical case that Evil Morty was at some point in the past also frantically gouging his own eye out) may be negated if you somehow also managed to gain access to some kind of healing equipment (of which we know Ricks have plenty) and set it to turn on automatically (because you're a very smart, careful boy). I'm not gonna add the screenshots because they're too many, but I'm going to list a few:

the one Rick used to jumpstart Pissmaster's brain

the thing Rick injected Morty with after Morty bully-gunned himself

the one Rick used to restore Morty's arm

Rick's freaking garage

(It's possible by the way that the original receiver Evil Morty had did not have a "contain suicide attempt" function. It's possible that the threat of death was deterrent enough that Evil Morty wouldn't try to remove the receiver on his own. It's possible Evil Morty added the "contain suicide attempt" function to Evil Rick's receiver because he knew from experience that this is a price he might be willing to pay. Which would, you know... also explain why he didn't bother downloading the schematics of Rick Prime's auto-healing ability for himself)

IN ANY CASE, you mutilated yourself successfully, pulled the receiver out of your eye's remains, died, your brain healed (physically), the eye reformed, but happened to reform while the cables were sticking out from when you were pulling the receiver. Uh-oh. It's okay, tuck them back in, no one has to know. Better not inform the Citadel nor update your Morty Agency record on your newest implant, either. You wouldn't want other Ricks to know they only need to attach a receiver in your head to exert complete control over you, huh? (like grabbing a... joystick?) Maybe kill your Rick, if you haven't done it already. Run away.

Sigh. Let's go to the hard parts now.

Fans smarter than me have already pointed out that the Rick-Morty dynamic is deliberately built around the idea of grooming, predation of minors and sexual abuse. A lot of the things in the show are either outright instances of grooming, are meant to refer to sexual abuse or are meant to be allegories to sexual abuse, even though canonically Rick is not grooming Morty for sexual reasons. (I strongly suggest you check out all the above links, by the way. I was disturbed.)

Take also into account that Citadel with its Morty Market also has disturbing similarities to a messed up, horrible foster care system, as well as child trafficking.

Although I can't find all the links (message me if you have them), I had also found posts from fans comparing Evil Morty's actions to sexual abuse, against Ricks and Mortys this time.

The "literal" mind rape he has committed is the most blatant example, in my opinion, but far from the only one. The violence of Evil Rick's puppeteering when he was forced to kill Guard Rick was disturbing. Another fan alluded that Evil Morty making Evil Rick drunk before assaulting him was akin to drugging someone before taking sexual advantage of them. Extra disturbing by Evil Rick's exclamation "Get off me!"

Personally, Evil Morty closing the garage door before attacking reminded me of... other scenes in movies etc, where the assaulter turns up the volume on the radio before commencing his attack. I mean... we've seen all sorts of insane stuff happening in that garage (people exploding, redheads flying in, a flying saucer parking) and none of the neighbors even care. Gene actually had the courage to STEAL a rake from this house of madness. It is all treated as comically absurd. Only when Evil Morty attacks are the happenings treated as an actual violent crime that the perpetrator would want to stay hidden.

And sure, Evil Morty needed a large crowd of alive Mortys to hide amongst, and he needed an excuse to keep them alive so he strapped them on the Morty Dome and tortured them, but did they really have to be naked?

Now, I'm in no way an expert of any sort in any of the above, but I've read that when children (and Morty is 14) do physically violent or sexually aggressive acts against others, it's typically because they've been assaulted themselves in a similar fashion. I guess they're either trying to process what happened, are mimicking it, are venting their frustration on someone weaker, or are simply desensitized to it. SOMEONE PLEASE CORRECT ME IF I'M HORRIBLY WRONG.

I'm sure that canonically, no actual rape has taken place, but given the show's general... vibe... I doubt the above mentioned similarities are a coincidence. I'd say that a 14-year-old boy literally losing all body autonomy by becoming an old man's literal puppet for an unspecified amount of time is as close to the concept as possible without actually being the concept. (Edit: sadly, I no longer think this was only metaphorical. There's no way to explain his utter indifference at torturing Mortys, in the particular fashion that he did, unless he concluded that they'd be having a MUCH EASIER time than HE had.)

Of course, this is just a theory. We don't know if anything like this has happened. However, the truth is that while we've seen plenty of miserable Mortys in the Citadel, none of them seem to be as angry, traumatized, nor desperate as Evil Morty. They all managed to smile, or find companionship among each other, or even among Ricks (Cop Rick, I'm looking at you). Evil Morty is the only one who did completely messed up things to an extreme scale without batting an eyelid, just so he could get as far away as possible. He didn't exactly seem to enjoy his journey to freedom, either.

His face here as he finishes the transmitter reads to me as a particularly sad and defeated "...I'm really doing this, then" thought.

And (like actual sexual abuse victims) it's not likely he could have safely unburdened himself by sharing the secret of what happened to him with someone in the Citadel. Another Rick might have taken advantage of him in the same way, once he realized the opportunity was available.

Not to mention that by telling someone he would risk hearing some variation of "you asked for it by being cocky and not doing what you were told" or "being completely controlled by a Rick was the best thing that ever happened to you, you finally stopped doing dumb mistakes". The Rick who puppeteered him could have also framed it as "I'm doing this for your sake, because you keep getting yourself injured in adventures".

And he mustn't let himself react overly emotionally or go into hysterics about it, because then he'll get mind-blown and forget everything that happened (roofied, much?) and be vulnerable to it again. Or, even worse, he may be discarded as "defective" and end up in that Morty slaughterhouse... So he must really tone down his emoting.

He could have theoretically confessed to another Morty, but we've already seen Mortys throwing each other under the bus in their bid to survive. I wouldn't like my chances, personally.

So it seems to me that he be stuck in the Citadel, simming in his own fear, grief and anger with no one to confide to (although gaining a level-up in confidence (cockyness, if you want) given that he successfully orchestrated his own escape attempt). Either living in the lousy conditions of Morty Town, surrounded by clueless Mortys who, if ever discovered that he could get mind-controlled might tip off a Rick in exchange of a better quality of life. Or partnering with a Rick, living every day in fear that his secret might get revealed accidentally and that he'd end up dissected and studied, or simply controlled once again. (It would be even more dangerous if his Rick was wanted by the Citadel, and Evil Morty was in danger of getting executed for assisting him.) And, of course, we know that Citadel Ricks do not form lasting bonds with their Mortys. Even if his secret was never discovered, Evil Morty would find neither peace, nor family in the company of the Rick of the Day who adopted him.

I also think there is a lot of internalized victim blaming among the Mortys in the citadel. At some point he might have been convinced that he really did ask for it by not behaving. And this puts the eyepatch in a... different perspective. It made sense that he used the eyepatch initially, that's pretty much the only place where he could put his transmitter. But after he gained access to aaaaall the Citadel's tech as president, he built a lot of cool things. Couldn't he have built a better interface, one that doesn't require an eyepatch?

I mean... he definitely improved the eyepatch itself. In the beginning he had to connect it with his implanted cables manually:

But after he became president, it appears that it connects automatically. No longer necessary to stick your fingers in your own eye socket (yayyy).

It's unclear if the cables themselves are still there (they might be!) but some part of the original implant definitely remains. However, why still use an eyepatch at all? However he may have started off originally, we can't really say that he incapable of performing surgery to himself by the time season 7 rolls in because we saw him have a plethora of body augmentations, and yet he still wears an eyepatch. Couldn't he have also altered the implant in his brain so that he keeps any potential perks but no longer needs an external eyepatch?

Sure, maybe he enjoys triggering Rick's fear of pirates (even though he wears it when he is alone outside the CFC). Or maybe he thinks he looks cool wearing it. Or maybe he's just an angsty teenager.

Or... Well... if the whole experience is a source of shame and self-blame for him, he may be metaphorically hiding the place of intrusion... or, conversely, a physical reminder that he managed to literally cut himself free might make him feel better. I tend to think it's the latter.

This is all just a theory. Maybe he simply is evil.

Or maybe he's heartbroken by being constantly discarded in the "adoption" program of the Morty Market to the point where he felt he would explode. Ricks scouring the universe for Mortys meant that blowing the CFC was the only way he could be left alone in peace.

...But I'm leaning towards him having one more reason to run away as far as he can without looking back.

(and as of now, I get the feeling that he hasn't run away far enough)