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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 1 month ago

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Cut Deep

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, violence, bullying, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Bad news brings the worst out in Logan. [reader is a mutant who can see emotions]

Characters: Logan Howlett (Wolverine)

Note: since this is my first time writing this character, I'd especially appreciate some extra feedback

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

“So, me and Scott just wanted to let everyone know we chose a date!” Jean is ecstatic. You can feel her happiness radiating from her. Despite how often you try to block those vibrations out, hers are so strong, you can’t. “And we’ll send out the invitations soon. Be sure to RSVP! And we know you all can make it because it will be right here at the mansion.”

She beams as Scott drapes his arm around her shoulders. They are such a cute couple. Perfect. Everyone on the team loves them. Well, everyone except for the one person roiling with black clouds of spite.

You glance over at Logan as he stews by the door. He stands with his burly arms crossed, his biceps straining in his leather jacket. He glares at the happy couple and curls his lip. Everyone also knows that he has a rotten infatuation with Jean, too. You feel bad for him really.

He catches you staring before you can tear your eyes away. He tilts his head and narrows his eyes. You quickly look away and swallow. You get up and go to Jean and Scott.

“Congrats, guys,” you smile, “let me know if you need any help with planning.”

“Thank you. Of course,” Jean smiles as Scott echoes her.

You make room for another well-wisher and back away, basking in the good energy all around. Well, mostly. You feel Logan steaming still but you refuse to look at him. You know how he gets when he’s upset. You don’t need to be able to see into his mind to know he’s pissed off.

As the room converges on the happily engaged couple, you opt to leave before the noise can get too much. You’re always a bit more sensitive with the extra effort of trying to block out the sounds that you don’t want to hear. It’s like a buzz on the other side of a wall. If the door cracks open, it will all blast in like a sonic wave.

You go into the library and reclaim the book you set left carelessly open on a leather armrest. It’s a history of mutants written in the 1700s. A secret tome Professor Xavier collected among his endless search for compatriots, both past and present.

Some you know from the history taught in schools for non-mutants. Like the queen accused of witchcraft or the countless people executed for the very same. Emperors who’s legacies are chalked up to folktale and superstition over the reality of their beings.

You sit up as you sense the shift in the air. That greyness seeps in before the door opens. You know who it is already yet you’re surprised to see him enter. Logan scowls as his eyes pinpoint at you. His rage continues to burn hotter and hotter.

“Oh, hi,” you close the book, “sorry, did you need the library--”

“I need you to stop tryna poke around in my head,” he growls.

You flinch as you stand slowly, “I... I don’t do that. Those are the rules. I stay in my own.”

“I saw you staring,” he accuses.

“I just looked. I could... feel. That I can’t control,” you explain. “Sorry.”

“Feel what? Huh? What do you think you know?”

You clear your throat and shake your head. “Nothing, I don’t know anything.”

“Damn right, you know shit all, little girl,” he stomps over to you.

You gulp as you stare back at him. Logan, Wolverine, X-Man. He’s one of the most admired and well-known mutants alive but that’s all you know of him. You’ve seen him hundreds of times in the mansion, but only in passing. He never wanted to talk to you, only Jean. As far as you knew, he didn’t even know you existed.

“That’s correct,” you agree.

You peek down at the book in your hand. You should put it back. You sniff but as you go to turn, he rips you back by your upper arm. His grip is steel. You face him and wince as he squeezes enough to make your bones ache.

“You think I’m what? Some pathetic creature that’s slathering over another guy’s girl?” He barks.

You shake your head, “nope. No. I wouldn’t... know.”

“You fucking wouldn’t,” he grits, his fingertips pushing into your tender arm. You let out a squeak. “Me? What about you? Always around. Riding her fucking coat tails. All for what? Cause you can tell when I’m having a bad fucking day. Every day is fucking bad.”

You stare at him. A vein bulges in his forehead, another in his neck, and he’s slightly red with his fury. You don’t understand why he’s mad at you. Well, people often don’t aim their emotions in the right direction. Often, there’s too much for them to feel and it just spills over.

Logan’s aura deepens to a thick black. Darker and bolder than anything you’ve ever witnessed. It tendrils around you as you squirm. You clasp onto the book and try to wiggle free as the blood throbs in your arm.

“Ouch. Please, let me go. I wasn’t meaning to--”

“You’re never going to be her. You know that? You won’t even be an X-Man. You’re just one of Charles’ pets.” He reaches for the book and rips it from your hand. “He keeps you in your birdcage and you flutter around and read these stupid things.”

He tosses the book onto the floor and steps closer. You step back and whine. He keeps on until you’re against a shelf.

“You’ll never be her and I’ll never have her,” he grits out. “So, we’ll compromise.” He grabs your neck and you writhe and whimper. “What do you feel now, huh?”

A wisp of red tinges the black fog unfurling from his broad shoulders. More anger but something more. Lust. Love is a delicate pink or a pale purple, but lust is a deep and lurid crimson. Mixed with his rage, it is something more. It’s a tainted hue.

“I can pretend. You should try to do the same.”

“Please,” you press your hands against his stomach.

“Don’t try that shit,” he drags his other hand down your arm and puts his knuckles to your side. He lets his claws out just enough to jab you. “You can’t get in my head. Professor made well sure of that.”

You squeak and shake your head, “I wouldn’t-- Logan, please--”

“Shut your damn mouth and pull your pants down. I ain’t got all day,” he snarls.

“What?” You bat your eyes as they glisten. “No, no, what are you--”

His claws poke you again, easily piercing your shirt and scratching your skin. You lean back into the shelf as you peel your hands away from him. He glowers at you as he releases your neck. He crowds you in as you wait just a moment longer, hoping, wishing he would go.

You lower your hands cautiously. You drop your gaze, humiliated. You shake as you hook your thumbs under your waistband and push your leggings down. You gulp as your eyes tingle.

He grabs your shoulder and spins you to face the shelf. You let out an oomph as you catch yourself against the books. He trails up to the back of your neck and pinches. You squeal into a sob. Your disbelief bubbles to horror. You brace the wood as he yanks on your panties.

“Fucking girl,” he mutters. “Lookin’ at me... what d’ya fucking know?”

“Logan--”

“Stop saying my goddamn name.” He shoves your head so it hits a shelf and you groan. Ouch.

You close your eyes and lean your forehead on the wood. Jean says you need to breathe. Centre yourself. It’s hard when you’re terrified.

You inhale, taking in his emotion, his anger, even a tinge of that other desire that drives him so slap your ass. He digs in his nails as you babble. You gather the black cloud and blow it out.

He hisses and recoils as it ripples off of you like fire. He growls and as you go to turn, he sweeps your feet out from under you. You flail as you fall, landing on your elbow so it throbs. You whine and roll onto your stomach. You drag yourself over the floor as he clutches his head and snarls.

“I told ya not to try anything,” he barks.

“Please, please, I didn’t do anything.”

He steps over you and falls to his knees. He straddles you as you claw at the floor, pushing your toes down as you try to escape him. He swats the back of your head so hard your vision blurs. His anger darkness the room and disorients you.

You’ve never felt anything so intense and you feel everything. Love, joy, pain, grief, confusion... fear. His anger strangles you as he forces your head down to the floor, leaning his weight on his head as he pins you.

He raises himself on his knees and shifts. You kick out, thrashing your arms. You open and close your hands and clamp shut your eyes. You can do it. Take his anger in--

You scream as you’re scalded by the corrupt energy pouring from him. No, it’s too much. You’re not ready. All that training and you’re still weak.

You murmur at the floor, “no, no, please, no...”

He traces his hand down your ass and forces his fingers between your thighs. He feels around roughly, scratching your as he flicks along your dry folds. You gulp and heave. Your tears swell in an unstoppable flow.

You slap your hands on the floor and tense as he prods around, dipping a thick digit into your cunt with a grunt. Your legs distend and you push your toes down. He delves, in, out, deeper, harder, smashing into you.

He rips his hand away and you whine again. He leans over you, his hand stretching across your skull entirely. You can feel his strength in your neck. He bends, hot breath scalding your scalp with the flames of his wrath.

You weep as he brings his tip along your flesh and guides it around blindly. He puts more weight onto your head as he stretches you around his tip. You shriek and jut your arm out straight, the edge of the rug curling in your grasp.

“Help, someone! Help--”

He grabs your head with both hands and slams it into the floor. The reverberating impact fractures your voice and thoughts. He rams his hips down and impales you around his thick cock. You murmur as spittle leaks from your mouth and tears continue to smear your face.

He thrusts, holding himself at his limit and well past yours. He grips your skull tighter and tighter with each tilt. He huffs and puffs, growling and groaning as he tears you up from the inside.

Finally, he releases your head. The metallic shink of his claws cuts through the delirium of physical and mental anguish. The pain in your bones can’t compare to the dagger of his anger piercing through your soul.

He stabs his claws into the floor on either side of your neck. The adamantium grazes your skin, keeping you still for fear of cutting deeper. You wheeze and go rigid as he rears back and slams down harder and harder. His flesh clasp louder with each cruel descent.

The black cloud creeps over the floor like heavy fog. It crawls up the walls as a glimmer of red weaves through it. He ruts deeper and deeper, the motion jarring you so that his claws scrape away the skin at your neck.

He bends over you, curling his shoulders as you feel him tense. He exhales as the blackness covers the ceiling and casts you into shadow. You reach to grasp at his claws, slicing your palms helplessly as you cling on.

He thrusts until you feel him in your guts. Once, twice, several time with all the hatred he can summon. He growls and trembles as he spills into you, a heat hotter than even his boiling rage.

Your hands slip from his claws and you spread your bloodied palms on the carpet. You quake in horrified sobs. He buries himself as he lays his entire weight over you limply. He puffs as he dislodged the metal from the floor.

He hangs his head next to yours and sneers, “it shouldn’t be him, Jean.”

You hold your breath. You can’t speak or move for fear of reminding him what he’s just done. Or worse, reigniting his assault.

He groans and slides out, flipping off of you to sit on his ass. He rests his arms on his bent knees and sighs. You watch the black haze dim to a dull grey. He’s still angry but he can contain it. The storm has calmed but it's far from over.

#logan howlett #dark logan howlett #dark!logan howlett #logan howlett x reader #fic #wolverine #dark fic #dark!fic #marvel #x men

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brucewaynehater101 · 2 months ago

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I miss the feeling I had when I first joined this fandom, I knew virtually nothing so everything was correct and I loved everything, even if that stuff just isn’t true, i was like

Bruce is a bit emotionally constipated but loves his kids? Hell yeah sounds legit

dick is a silly happy flippy man who is a bit promiscuous? Love that for him

Jason is a mega feminist literature nerd who is also buff and takes care of the street kids? Perfect man honest

Tim is a nerd who never sleeps and is queer and has never known the touch of a man nor woman? Sweet

Steph is waffle obsessed goofball? Well I prefer pancakes but right on

Cass is a mute badass who loves her fam? I love her

Duke is a normal dude? Well someone has to be and he seems neat

Alfred can do no wrong? Aight, I love old perfect tea men

Damian is a little prick? So are all middle schoolers give him time

But then I had to go learn about the characters and now I have complex opinions about them, and can see the inherent racism and sexism in how they are portrayed

You know before I joined the bat fandom I did not use the exclude tag in ao3? Like tmnt and dp have some bad stuff but usually I could just scroll past.

but now I am having to avoid fics where whole ass adults are bullying and/or oversexulizing a child

Im constantly on the look out for untagged batcwst

I struggle to find fics that don’t describe dicks ass

I have been in this fandom for probably about two years now and y’all I swear

sorry for ranting, and don’t worry I love all your stuff and I know the just back click don’t leave mean comments rule

I’m just tried bc most of the stuff I thought was true turned out to be false

Mm. I do find it a little exhausting trying to navigate the lines of what's canon, what shouldn't be canon (but is due to racism/sexism/homophobia/etc.), and just having fun.

I'm also trying to cultivate the mindset of what I've seen on Tumblr about not policing other people's ships/ideas. I am highly uncomfortable with some (particularly underaged people and adults dating), but I'm also not leaving hate comments. Like you said, the backspace exists for a reason.

Idk. There's a toooon of takes/ideas about the batfam that are inherently false, but as long as they aren't racist/sexist/etc takes, I don't see the harm in them. So what if someone wants a coffee obsessed Tim? So what if Jason's kill code is very strict? As long as they don't claim it's canon, let them be

But yeah. I have a mile long exclude list for fics on AO3. I used to use it only for triggers (I can not do stockhold syndrome, my lords), but now it's got other weird ass shit I've stumbled upon (I saw a fic where the batkids were spanked as punishment??? Like I said, not gonna leave hate comments or single anyone out. Just not my cup of tea).

I also am usually not a fan of romance/sex. It's why the batfam intrigued me so much (found families usually don't have that in it). I like exploring dynamics outside of romance and thus love the batfam. They've got so much going on that romance/sex is not needed. They are such a mess without that dynamic being added (talking about the Bats getting with a third party, but, again, trying not to yuck anyone's yum).

However, I agree. There's a ton of misinformation within fandom. I like how complex canon gets with the characters, but there's also widely different takes with them (mostly talking about Bruce here. He can either be trying or just a straight up horrible dad).

#thank you for the ask!!!!#dc hcs

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m1dnyt3-w0lf · 1 month ago

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Cuddles

Logan x OC: Midnyte Wolf

Summary: She had a nightmare, he comforts her

Midnyte woke with a choked cry and covered in a cold sweat. She shot up with a gasp, clutching at the blankets that tangled around her legs. She panted for breath as her gaze darted this way and that. No crowd of screaming people. Her eyes sank to her hands. No blood. Slowly, she released her blankets from her death grip. Her hands shook. The room suddenly felt too stuffy. With some struggle, she managed to release her legs from the blanket’s grip and swing them over the edge of her bed. The chill of the floor froze her feet into place and further helped to wake her up as a violent shiver rode down her spine. A ragged breath spilled from her lips. She slipped on her slippers and made her way out of her room. However, she didn’t get far.

“Logan!” She gasped, clutching at her chest at the fright of the tall man in front of her. He was leaning against the door frame with his eyes immediately trained on hers like he was waiting for her. Knowing him, he probably was. She was quick to avert her gaze, unintentionally landing her eyes onto his bare chest. Her cheeks flushed, and her ears flattened. She was quick to avert her gaze once more, looking completely away from Logan altogether. For once, Midnyte cursed her wolf sight.

“You okay?” Logan asked in a rumbling tone that didn’t hide his concern. She could feel his gaze boring into her as if seeking the truth himself. Her tail whipped behind her a bit.

“Just a nightmare, sorry if I woke you.” She mumbles. She peered up at him through her lashes, almost scared to meet his gaze. His eyes didn’t show any of the hardness she was used to seeing from them. If anything, they looked softer than kitten fur. He looked almost worried.

“Not at all, I was already awake.” He says softly. Midnyte wasn’t sure what had him acting differently from his usual arrogant self, but she was happy he wasn’t. She might’ve lashed out if he was. She almost shivered at the thought.

“Mind if I come in?” Logan asked suddenly, making her eyes widen in shock.

“Sure.” She mumbled, unable to say anything else as her brain short circuited. She moved aside to let him in. He eyed her as if he hadn’t expected such a quick agreement. He pushed himself off the doorway and made his way in. Midnyte closed the door, shutting them both away from the world. Wordlessly, Logan reached out and took her arm into his hand. His touch reminded her of a feather. She looked up at him with a questioning look, seeing only his soft eyes staring back. He gently led her back to her bed. She wanted to ask him what he was on about, but his unnatural silence egged her to stay silent as well. He pulled back the covers and led her to climb into bed. Hesitantly, she did, laying on her side facing him. He chuckled softly.

“Turn around.” He commanded in a light tone. Midnyte knit her eyebrows together and did as she was told. There’s shuffling and pressure on the bed behind her and then, suddenly, his arms around her. She gasped and stiffened in his hold. His movements stopped.

“This’ll help with the nightmares, trust me, pup.” He whispers softly, his breath fanning over the back of her head and ears. She nearly shivered at the feeling. His hand rubbed her arm in a slow rhythm that helped her to calm down. Midnyte’s body relaxed, allowing Logan to gently pull her back flush against his chest. A sigh left her lips at the feeling of his warmth against her back. She felt her body relax further. Any memory of the nightmare she had was driven away into the darkest recesses of her mind.

“Get some sleep, pup.” Logan whispered into her ear. His arm gently tightened around her waist, the hold protective. “I’ve got ya.”

It was the best sleep either had had in a very long time.

Let me know if you'd like to be tagged/untagged!

Tags: @symmetricalkazekage @madschiavelique @arithestrawberry @thelaundrybitch @obi-mom-kenobi @crocs-blogs @eveandtheturtles @raphsmuneca

#m1dnyt3 w0lf #m1dnyt3 w0lf fanfic #logan howlett #logan wolverine #logan x oc #logan xmen #wolverine #wolverine x oc #x men #x men movies #xmen #midnyte wolf #oc x canon #my ocs #ocs #oc

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fang-and-feather · 3 months ago

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Ikemen Vampire - Napoleon x OC

Words: 279

Not related to the other ones but another for Napoleon's Birthday Bullying Party by @xxsycamore with prompt: Give him a nickname adjacent to his “Nunuche”

although I probably made this a little too vague

IkeVamp Masterlist / General Masterlist / AO3 Link

“What did you call me, Nunuche?” Napoleon snatched her by the waist as Amy laughed. What was up with her today? “And why does it feel like it’s not a good thing?”

“It’s only fair I give you a nickname back.”

“Not fair when I don’t even know what it means.”

“Figure it out then.” Amy leaned forward and kissed the tip of his nose.

“Did I offend you that much?” he asked, kissing her neck.

“Oh, I wouldn’t just give you a nickname if you did.”

Both of them laughed, and Napoleon let the subject go.

But as days passed, she would start using whenever he used the one he ended up giving her. And Napoleon found himself asking around - discreetly since she never used it in front of people. Maybe one of the guys would know what it meant.

But whatever language it was, it seemed beyond the knowledge even of Comte and Leonardo.

And every time Amy noticed him trying to decipher it, he would see her with an amused smile.

“You do enjoy seeing me running around like this, don’t you?” He finally confronted her on the morning of his birthday.

“Sorry. But I rarely see you this lost and desperate. It’s always you who has me running around.”

“And since when did you start getting me back?”

“Does it bother you when I am like this?”

“No. I guess it is fair. But will you at least tell me what you’re calling me?”

“Later.” She kissed him. “For now, I have something else in mind and talking would be a waste.” She said, blushing, and then kissed him again. “Happy birthday, my goofy prince.“

Tag List:

@tele86, @nightghoul381, @natimiles

@bicayaya, @eventinelysplayground

@queengiuliettafirstlady, @kissmetwicekissmedeadly

If you want to be tagged/untagged on future writings, you can reply to this post or send me a message

IkeVamp Masterlist / General Masterlist

#ikemen vampire #ikevamp napoleon #napoleon x oc #ikevamp #fanfiction #ikevamp fanfic #oc: amy

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undead-discourse · 11 months ago

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ive seen this take going around and i wanna throw in my two cents.

"No survivor has ever experienced healing while jacking off to incest porn"

hi i am a survivor who had one of my most cathartic breakthrough moments while cumming to incest fic. i achieved the ability to feel safe in my own body despite the full knowledge of what had happened to me living inside of my bones every day. I know it probably sounds crazy to survivors who are just starting their journey to recovery, but it's possible to feel okay and it's possible to feel safe. It's even possible to be so recovered you no longer have to avoid your triggers because they no longer trigger you. THAT'S how recovered incest fic can let you be if you use it responsibly. But don't listen to jackasses online like me, trust your feelings and don't lie to your therapist. Your journey is your own, and your recovery is under your complete control. Congratulations!!!

When engaging with art written by a fellow survivor it's very common to find that one's experiences and emotions are reflected very accurately. That can be scary! Seeing as sexual assault is a broad umbrella that encompasses many acts and experiences, it stands to reason that victims of sexual assault will have an equally varied set of experiences. This means that if you are a survivor of sexual assault, it is common and likely that you will encounter a fellow survivor who has completely different experiences, and different reactions to those experiences.

Because we are all so different, it can feel difficult to feel understood, or to feel as though one has found solidarity. I understand where the upset comes from, I really do.

However, antis, just because you do not relate, just because you feel bad or gross reading/seeing someone's work, does not mean you are allowed to be mean to them. It means you are supposed to block them.

If every depiction of my abuse were to be scrubbed from the internet then how would I know I wasn't alone? Who would I talk to? How would I know I hadn't been "broken"? How would I know that other people reacted the same way that I did? How would I know I was still worthy of love? Would I be able to feel "understood"?

(These questions are designed to provoke thought. The answer to these questions in my experience has been that support networks of others who have experienced similar abuse does not match my experiences, and that only others who have experienced abuse that is Very Very Similar To My Own can evoke this catharsis euphoria, or "belonging". My experience is that in order to find those with similar experiences, one must locate posts describing those experiences, or one must make those posts oneself.)

It is understandable if an anti finds themself feeling alienated in certain spaces. This is a sign that they have not found a community supportive of them! They should and deserve to find that community and feel connected and happy!! They are not allowed to send mean messages to other survivors! They are not allowed to decide who is and is not a survivor! They are not allowed to make posts telling lies about other survivors! I do not understand why so many antis are comfortable treating other humans this way. I can't understand why so many antis are proud of treating fellow survivors this way.

Incest fic was there for me in my darkest moments, whump as a brutal reminder that i wasn't alone in what had happened to me, fluff as an unrealistic wish fulfillment fantasy of how my abuser SHOULD have treated me, multichapter for exploring the long term behavioral impacts of abuse, and porn without plot for when my body is being hypersexual due to flashbacks. i just really don't get antishippers man, you can block tags and block users who post untagged. you don't have to see anything that you do not want to. I get where the upset comes from, but i never understand why it stays to be vented at fellow survivors.

( don't be sorry for sending long asks anon! that's the point here: to send whatever you're thinking or feeling. my audience is whoever wants to send me stuff which includes stuff like this, you're okay anon <3 )

#shipping discourse

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skzdarlings · 3 months ago

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Hii

This is going to be a bit long, sorry in advance.

First off, I was the one asking about your wife- just to clarify, I wasn’t trying to be nosy. I just love knowing that one of my new favorite AO3 authors is in a happy queer relationship.

Speaking of being a favorite author, I’m OBSESSED with your writing. I started with Kingsguard, and the way you wrote Jisung and developed the plot was incredible. (Han is my ult, and finding good fics about him is tough.) Then I read all the others, and then the Bodyguard series, and well, it made me start seeing Felix in a whole new light. (That, and him dropping water on himself at that concert, tehee.)

Anyway, I wanted to ask if you could maybe add some more tags or just a heads-up before the kinky scene in the Bodyguard 1. SM is kind of triggering for me, and even though you wrote it really well and helped me see it from a different angle, it’s still a bit unsettling to jump into suddenly, especially if you’ve got trauma.

Anyways, thanks so much for sharing your work! I can’t wait for the new chapters, but also please take your time and take care <3

hahahaha omg it’s so funny you say that because my wife and i had looked at that ask and was like, this is either a fully supportive or fully homophobic query with no in between hahaha im glad it was the former. yes very happy queer relationship thank you very kindly 🤭🧡

and thank you so much! For both the bodyguard and kingsguard compliment haha idk why i wound up with so much guard content in this blog 🙈 but im so glad you have been enjoying it!

and ah thanks for pointing that out! i was confused at first because that chapter is thoroughly content warned then realized i forgot to paste over my tumblr content warnings on ao3 like i did for the other chapters. total slip, there’s a few moving parts when i post and it got lost in the shuffle. thank you for the heads up and im truly sorry!

i will just also mention to you or anyone else who this might help - because safety for readers is SO important to me as someone with so much sexual trauma myself - double check on ao3 whether authors have categorized the fic as “no archive warnings apply” or “creator chose not to use archive warnings”. the former means zero triggering content whereas the latter actually means it could be full of it but it’s untagged.

bodyguard is tagged with the latter which i always use when I rated M or E. again, as someone with so much baggage i know A LOT can be triggering that I don’t even recognize or consider, and that tag works as a sort of blanket warning and issue of consent to proceed with caution because you might encounter something that has otherwise not been tagged. sometimes people don’t see that tag or misunderstand what it means, but it’s good to point out and remind now and again so we can all read carefully.

thank you again very much, for both the compliments and reminder, I truly wish you well! take care 🧡

#replies

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nobodysdaydreams · 1 year ago

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ALL ABOARD TO TRUTH TOWN🚂 , WHERE FICTIONAL STORIES ABOUT SHINY BUTTONS, DONUTS, AND ROBOT UPRISINGS ARE MORE FUN THAN CUTTER'S STUPID SLOW CLAPS, HERA ALMOST DYING (she BETTER not), AND DOUG'S JAIL TIME AND ALCOHOLISM THAT I TOTALLY PREDICTED (good for me 🥰) (or my reaction to episodes 38-40 of Wolf359)

Also: Whiskey boy needs to chill, seriously. Are we sure Doug is the one with the problem?

Welcome back dear readers. Thanks again for your patience. Excited to continue with my season 3 reactions!

Tagging the mutuals who got me invested in this, and if you want to be tagged or untagged from these posts, lmk, or you can follow my blog or simply follow the tag "#bods wolf359 reactions". Anyone who has followed me for a while knows my updates are inconsistent, so I apologize in advance for that and for any spelling/grammar mistakes in my posts.

@sophieswundergarten @oflightningandstars @acollectionofcuriousreblogs @herawell @commsroom

Episode 38: Happy Endings

I'm gonna be doing chores while I listen to these three episodes, so sorry if the notes get a bit brief.

This Hilbert and Doug morality debate is funny because it's literally one actor debating with himself.

I'm sad Hera can't be a part of the group.

"2am"? How is it 2am? You're...you're not on earth. I understand keeping up with a schedule, but it's still a little weird, what time zone are they following?

The way Hilbert talks about Sam... it's like he has this shred of humanity left inside him that he's just gotten used to ignoring.

And Hilbert, I have a clear answer to your little "trolley problem": the decima virus is CUTTER'S property. He put that in your contract, or have you forgotten? Do you seriously think that man will be using it for the good of humanity? Because I don't.

I also feel like the "No one gets a happy ending/ there are no happy endings" think is foreshadowing. But I hope I am wrong.

"This wasn't here last time"

IS THIS THAT WEIRD DOOR???? FINALLY! Bah-ha just shove him in! At least it’s not the airlock which is what I was expecting.

Hm. Do not like the dark. Uh what. Also. Isn’t he supposed to be alone? Totally alone? And shouldn’t it be an emergency?

Dentist chair from hell? Nope. Don’t like it.

Recorded message? Oh gosh not the slow claps…Cutter no doubt. Of course he does a dramatic dark room, and the lights go up on an evil chair...he was one of those kids in school who at recess would find insects and torture them for fun, wasn't he?

Easter egg? Cutter, this is the worst easter themed scavenger hunt I've ever heard of. Where are the chocolate bunnies? The jellybeans? The message of hope, love, and rebirth? But I suppose I should expect nothing else from the man who ordered the killing of three people on Christmas. Makes you wonder what Cutter has against holidays. Did mommy and daddy not give someone enough presents?

“The other crew has... gone away like last time” Cutter you suck. Seriously his villain mode does not have an off switch.

What does Cutter want with his brain? An old friend made this for him?? Is it the dude he killed or is it the Pryce person he wrote the book with? Makes me wonder where his mysterious friend is hiding. In the shadows at Cutter's right hand or six feet underground with a knife in the back? Not sure which is worse. I guess we'll see.

THEY CAN SCAN HIS BRAIN AND GET THAT KIND OF INFO? That...but...I...as someone who knows slightly more than average about how the brain works, Cutter needs to learn how to make better use of his tech. I cannot even BEGIN to tell you how much better his evil plans would go, if he focused on THAT instead of...oh I don't know...investing his money into elaborate dark rooms with evil dentist chairs and slow clap videos?

Also "Hera can't detect these secret rooms" HOW. HOW CAN SHE NOT THAT'S AN AWFUL IDEA: She flies the ship, she has to calculate for its size. It's science fiction, so let me be 100% clear, I'm not dumping on the creators or writers, I'm dumping on Cutter the character. You idiot.

Oh he’s just leaving him in space. Oh...Hilbert will come around in the hopes that he’ll use decima to help people. That's cruel. “Thanks for all the memories” Cutter. DUDE. Too much.

Do not give him your memories. Do not Hilbert.

Haha… hee hee… why is he laughing?

Brilliant? Chance for work to continue? NO. HILBERT YOU DUM-DUM. THEY ARE NOT GOING TO USE IT FOR GOOD. CUTTER WILL NOT USE IT FOR GOOD. BECAUSE HE IS NOT A GOOD MAN. The reason you shouldn't do this has nothing to do with sacrifices for the great good...it's that the greater good IS NOT GUARANTEED AND LIKELY DOESN'T EXIST BASED ON CUTTER'S BEHAVIOR!

Don’t call her Isabel. You are in the wrong here Hilbert. And there is a very clear difference between what she is doing and what you are doing. She knows better than to count on a killer for benevolence.

Good. Smart. Don’t get in the chair. It would probably slice off your head or something.

Something about Eiffel? Minkowski… Doug is your friend. Just because he served time doesn’t mean he’s a bad guy.

Well Lovelace and Hilbert...it's an unusual alliance. Hope it works out.

Episode 39: All Things Considered

"It's a bottle…"

👎🙅‍♂️🤬❌ WRONG!

Oh it's the Whiskey isn't it.

Wrong! Cancelled! 🤬👎🙅‍♂️❌

Oh my gosh Kepler shut up.

Of course duck boy knows the boss’s drinks. Teacher's pet.

“YOU VILLAGE IDIOTS!…🤬... but points to you Jacobi 😏🥰👍" okay… clearly discount Cutter has his own discount Kepler.

oh I love these stories. Why do I feel like Minkowski's is gonna be the most realistic. Like, I can see Doug making lightsaber noises, and I can see Jacobi being a little arrogant. Just...maybe a little exaggerated.

Oh my gosh Jacobi's story. 😂😂😂 The way he's portraying Doug is way too much.

“But the button is so shiny! 🥺” PFFT- the way Jacobi portrays Doug... I'm sorry for laughing but it's too funny😂

He’s doing Minkowski dirty. Why is he making her talk like a valley girl?

“I’m sorry Jacobi you were right!” / “I’m just gonna lean against this big red button!”

Duck boy who do you think you’re fooling with this one 😂

I cannot wait for Doug's story.

Yes, Doug I am ready for the truth. I am so ready. I AM READY!

I love Hera’s announcement: "Uh...yeah some stuff is happening today for sure"

“The innocent victim stepped in to help” why is Doug me telling a story.

“We’ve never high-fived!” “We’re headed to truth town!”

Heck yeah we are! All aboard to truth town Doug, this is the best story yet!

Why are they like fighting elementary school children? I love this. Dang Doug is roasting them!

“Oh thank goodness Doug you saved us 🥰”

"Minkowski decked him!" "I did not!" "Duck boy passed out" "I did not!" "But then Hilbert came. Russian's are drawn to loud noises and he wanted to experiment on Jacobi's brain."

Doug, if you made a fictional podcast about your time in space I would listen to it. It sounds amazing.

Why is Minkowski doing a different accent now? WHY IS HERA THE VILLAIN SUDDENLY DOING A ROBOT UPRISING? 😂

"Is there any truth to your story?" Um...yeah? I'm pretty sure there were donuts in multiple stories Kelper 🙄

"But... but truth town! 🥺"

I agree. Doug was taking them straight to truth town and Whiskey boy shut down the railways. All because discount Cutter can't handle the truth. Big surprise.

“As I've mentioned...I like the feel of it IN MY HAND 😡”

Geez man okay.

And Doug's story was not a time waste. It was delightful. Just because discount Cutter is evil doesn't mean he has to be the fun police.

“Until your idiocy stretches all the way around back to half-way competent” dang I really am like Doug. 😔

Episode 40: Limbo

"Lob of meat" well you don't have to say it like that Hera.

"I can't think of a single way to prank everyone else" Doug. Jacobi is afraid of ducks. You are sitting on a gold mine.

Ugh this is awful because I can't tell if Hera's compliance with Maxwell is programmed or not! It's so scary that her free will can just be...programmed out.

Maxwell. Why are you interrogating her? Hera. Do not turn on your friends. Maxwell. You BETTER be trying to help.

I'm very worried about Hera. Is Kepler going to shut her down?

Good on you Hera. She deserves to know the truth.

...oh no.

Maybe I'm misremembering this, but was it Maxwell or Lovelace who said "if only Hera knew the truth" a few episodes back? I'm really suspicious about how Cutter and co. treat the AIs and what they want with them.

Hera. Talk to Doug about it. Just let him know you're scared. He'll be there for you.

Hera please let your friends help you. Please let them help you. AND LEAVE HERA ALONE STOP OVERWHELMING HER! She clearly has...whatever the AI equivalent of anxiety is.

I feel so bad for Hera. I swear. Whatever Cutter has planned for her...he will pay for this.

Hera offline? NOOOOOO...

Maxwell you kinda got in her head.

But everyone has problems. And Hera is more than a robot computer. She's a friend. You can't just shut her down!

I KNEW IT. A panic attack. She has anxiety 🥺. Poor Hera.

What's dummy program? Would they destroy Hera's freewill? Neanderthal version of AI? No. Maxwell no. You don't get it. Hera is a friend. Oh they don't get it. They think it's a companion to her, not a replacement for her.

DO NOT DO IT. THANK YOU DOUG! YES! THANK YOU DOUG!

I need Whiskey Boy to drown in his own whiskey. And I need Hera to be okay. You can't do this to me. You already took Blessie you monsters. YOU ALREADY TOOK BLESSIE!

Maxwell stand up to discount Cutter! "Don't forget what she is Maxwell. She went rogue and tried to escape. There's a reasons she's up here. She's expendable. Make sure that doesn't become you." YOU better make sure it's not YOU whiskey boy. Hera just wanted freedom! She didn't ask to be born!

Minkowski just tell him. Please tell him.

Yikes.

Minkowski don't make him go through this. Please stop.

Kidnapping isn't the worst part? That's...this doesn't sound like a fun story. This doesn't sound like a trip to truth town.

Right. His daughter. Baby Ann 🥺

Doug would make a good dad. Oh no. I predict that he had drug and alcohol issues!!! Oh he gets clean. Good for him. Oh no... Doug...relapse is bad.

Oh he loses Ann. HE KIDNAPS HER? Doug bad idea. People get put away for stuff like that.

NO HE CRASHED INTO SOME TEENS. ...Model UN president in a wheelchair?

The way he says "I was fine...the driver's always fine..." yikes. He made her deaf? He hasn't seen her since? How old was she?

Hera needs to be okay. And I'm sorry if they have the tech for sentient AI, decima viruses, space travel, and who knows what else, that weird brain transmitting machine, then deafness should be totally curable by now, Cutter's just hogging the tech to himself like a psychopath. I hate him. I hate him so much. Cutter is the worst. I hope HE loses his senses. Almost all his senses. Except for pain. That's the only one he deserves to keep.

I hope Maxwell can save Hera. She has to! Hera can't die now. We already went through that, and she deserves to be happy.

But I do get the feeling that might not happen. For anyone.

You know, as I go back and edit this, I gotta say, in some ways Kepler is like an evil version of Doug. They both clearly like alcohol and substances (Kepler's "I like the feel of it in my hand" and Doug's "I just want to hold the cigarette"), but Doug wants to get better while Kepler clearly doesn't. "You're like this Whiskey see? I'd be sad without it but I'd be okay." And then he risks the life of his crew for it. You sure you don't have a bit of problem Whiskey boy? 👀

And that's all folks! Thanks dear readers for coming along on my journey. Sorry for the delays in reactions. Life gets busy, but I try to do at least once a week for you guys.

#bods wolf359 reactions #wolf359 #renee minkowski #isabel lovelace #doug eiffel #alexander hilbert #hera wolf 359 #wolf 359 #w359 #hera w359 #daniel jacobi #warren kepler #wolf 359 spoilers #alana maxwell

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doctorprofessorsong · 3 years ago

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Hey, I read "The Greatest of These" every 5 minutes. I love it, I live in it. You are so skilled!

2 barely related questions:

Do you know if there are anymore trueform!Castiel fics that are good? Or are you gonna write more on it? :)

Please may you tell me what fimmf means?

OK sorry for the delay. I screeched a bit in joy over this. The Greatest of These is one of those self-indulgent projects where I gave myself everything I wanted in angel lore and trueform!Cas. Whenever people love it, I do a little happy dance.

I hope you saw that there's art by the incredibly talented @hawkland.

OK, so the reason for the delay in part is that for question 1 I am totally blanking. There are a ton of wing fics but I'm assuming you are looking for vessel-less true form goodness. I don't have as many of those in my brain and encourage reblogs to rec them because I will also consume them. However, here are a few:

So Says the Sword by thee komodobits (Explicit, 85k). You've probably read this one. It's a classic for a reason. But, if you've been putting it off, this one does have a lot of trueform goodness/discussion/lore.

I Carry Your Heart With Me by aishitara (Explicit, 26k) after Cas' vessel is damaged, he struggles to maintain his form.

Wavelength-gasm by Mumble_Bee (Explicit, 11k) this one was recommended to me and is on my tbr, but it looks like a fun, smutty romp. Mind the tags.

And sadly for me that's it. Well there is one other which is NorthernSparrow's You Can Keep Holding On, but that comes with the HUGE caveat that it's a side plot at the end and the fic is absolutely devastating with a major untagged potentially triggering Cas whump and some super intense hurt/comfort. Feel free to DM me for more info. It happens to have one of my favorite trueform headcanons ever but it isn't a major part of the fic.

Anyway, I really did write what I wanted to see and if anyone else has other trueform recs I am making grabby hands at them.

Your second question has more to do with Cas' vessel. 😳 FIMMF is "fingers in my mouth Friday," a frequently horny celebration of the end of the week, often involving appreciation for a certain actor's phalanges. It's one of the silly tumblr/spnblr days. Get diagnosed as one here.

#river rambles #destiel #deancas #destiel fic recs #deancas fic recs #trueform!cas #the greatest of these

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kittenofdoomage · 3 years ago

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Happy Birthday to my blog, seven years ago today I started out in this strange wilderness and it's only gotten stranger 👍 nearly 700 stories and over 3.3 million words of fanfiction.

I was just going to leave this as a happy birthday blog post but I feel like I've got a few things I need to get off my chest, so this is below the cut, I know not everyone wants to or particularly cares to read it so there's ya choice 🤷‍♀️

There's no big announcements here FYI. I'm just doing what my friends have told me and putting my thoughts down on paper.

Some of you may have noticed I'm not posting anything on Tumblr anymore. The lack of interaction (comments, asks etc.) has just really put me off putting anything on here because it doesn't really feel like anyone either wants to read it or wants me around anymore, and I'm not gonna beg for attention. I'm not surprised, to be honest, my whole life I've been a square peg in a round hole. People just don't want me around - it's not just online. In real life there's exactly one place I feel like no one wants me to leave and that's in my house, with my family. I've just always been an odd person, and there aren't many people who vibe with me, it's cool, I've accepted it. But I'm not gonna be opening myself to that discomfort or pain anymore. My fics are all on Ao3 and I'll continue to post on there, my Tumblr will remain but I can't find the strength to get excited about something and then deal with the crushing feeling that no one wants my work. TBH I barely check Tumblr that much anymore bc I only come on here to check messages (usually from Beka, who knows all of this already but if you're reading this, thank you for listening to me and being patient with my mental breakdowns). My asks are staying off for now (sorry, Heart Anon, I love you, I've no idea who you are but please know you've been a light in my life and I appreciate you so much, and Marie, you have also been a beautiful friend with your daily gifs and hearts) but my PMs are on, just don't expect an answer right away.

I turn 35 tomorrow. It's been playing on my mind a lot, especially since my life expectancy ain't looking too good lol. I don't really have much of a life outside Tumblr. I'm a pretty boring person actually. Writing was the way I expressed myself and I truly enjoyed interacting with people who liked my stories. During the pandemic, it's been a way to keep myself focused and keep from slipping into the dark places we're all too familiar with. But there have been occasions lately where writing has been the cause of a slip into a dark place. And that's not healthy, and I need to work on it. I feel this is the time to stop forcing myself to write, seeing as I can't do much of it with my tiny human home for the school holidays.

My Patrons don't need to worry, I've still got material to share, it's a commitment I intend to honor because really, writing is the only thing I have, the only thing I feel I can do well and I am so, so, so, appreciative of every single person that supports me. I can't have a regular job right now (I hope that will change at some point because I've worked all my life until I got sick and I hate it) but you guys have given me a thread of independence, of dignity, and I value every one of you so much, those who have supported, who continue to support and who do so in the future.

I know this won't get absorbed, because it never does but those of you who read on Tumblr... please share the work you like. Set up a separate blog if you're too embarrassed to share on your main, make a reblogging blog, send asks, whatever, just please tell your author how much you liked what they did. I can assure you, those authors are waiting for it. We work so hard on what we make, what we create, we want you to scream from the rooftops. It doesn't even have to be coherent, we love all the feedback, we crave it (as long as it's not just a demand for part two, even Thor learned to ask for more without being rude about it, everyone else can). Without it, we're like plants without water. We don't feel the want to create anymore. And that's kinda where I'm at now. I don't want to lose my passion for my art but when there's nothing to do it for, sometimes it's out of our hands.

So, that's where I'm at. I'll probably lose followers (though I've already lost 250 in the last two months so that's not a surprise) and if any of my Patrons feel like my statement is unacceptable, that's fine. I don't expect anyone to agree with me. I just wanted to put my feelings down, to be honest with everyone. And I have.

I don't want the list of stories to end at 700. I want to keep creating stories that everyone will enjoy. I really hope things with change, even if not for me, then for the others out there who are on their creative journey.

Much love to everyone, stay safe xxx

(this post will remain untagged so it will not show in searches and I'm not tagging those people who I have spoken to about this and my feelings in general, as they know who they are, and they know they're very special, amazing, and appreciated people to me. I don't particularly care if this gets reblogged or not.)

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axwalker · 3 years ago

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If The World Was Ending: Even if he was wicked

Synopsis: When Bianca leaves her son without looking back, Drake has to live on the streets until he finds a home with Angelica Ortiz--Lexie’s grandmother and a foster mom. With the Ortiz, Drake finds a family and falls madly in love, until a tragic night changes everything, threatening the life Drake fought so hard to get.

To catch up (HERE)

Pairing: Drake Walker x Lexie O’Brien (MC) The Royal Romance.

A/N: This will be a very angsty, full of drama, small town romance.

Words: 4,120

Disclaimer: All characters belong to Pixelberry, except for Lexie’s grandmother and mother.

TRIGGER WARNINGS: Child neglect, abandonment, sexual assault, prison and a very entitled, “evil” Liam

Due to the several trigger warnings and some of the subjects I’ll be dealing with, I will only tag people who actively asked for it. If you want to be tagged in the following chapters --or untagged, please leave a comment.

Drake

2008

When I was 12 years old, my mother took off with my little sister leaving me in Cordonia with my father's best friend. I reminded her too much of my father, too much of a life she would do anything to forget. That "anything" included abandoning her oldest son. I'd like to say I was surprised, but the truth is I wasn't. Bianca Walker had never been a motherly woman. The only reason she had taken Savannah with her was that my Aunt Leona adored her. I was sure my mother would dump my little sister on her and never look back. I hoped that was the case, Leona despised me, but she was great to Savannah.

A short time after that, Bastien passed away and my mother was nowhere to be found. That's when I started to go from one home to another. The first year and a half were the hardest ones. I lived with four different families, each one worse than the last. First, the Lockes, where the family barely talked to me. Then, the Ruiz that made me take cold showers and sleep on the floor. The Godwins where the “mother” used the check the state gave her to buy alcohol instead of groceries. And finally the worse, the Fields. They seemed nice enough when I met them. Not kind but polite. The first few weeks everything seemed normal. Then one day, I got in trouble at school, and Mr. Fields --the pastor of his community, beat me up to “teach me some manners.” His punishments became a usual thing after that.

Eventually, I couldn’t take it anymore, so I escaped. Better to be on my own than believe some family was going to love or adopt me. Obviously, there was something very wrong with me. My own mother had left me, and I had never found my place anywhere else.

I lived on the streets for 6 months. I did all kinds of jobs. Not a lot of them were legal but there were few opportunities for a 14-year-old runaway kid. The most money I got was when I stole car parts that I got to resell to a gang called the Mercy Park Crew. The boss, Mr. Kaneko was fair and paid well enough. I could’ve kept living by myself if something hadn’t got terribly wrong at my last job. One of the boys from a rival gang decided to teach me a lesson and I ended up in the hospital with a concussion. A nurse called social services so here I am in a car with another social worker on the way for another foster home. It doesn’t matter, I know it won’t last anyway.

When you’ve been in the system as long as I had, you learned to look for certain warning signs when placed in a new home. Drugs, ulterior motives, threatening fathers, drinking mothers. After an hour, we drove through a town looking like something straight out of a movie. Valtoria. I’d heard of it before. The family my dad had been protecting when he died lived there. The house we pulled up to, was a large two-story construction with dark brown siding and an immaculate green lawn.

Joelle, my new caseworker had popped up out of nowhere in the hospital and told me I was coming with her. Just like that. From the way Joelle talked about the new place, I figured it was some sort of transitional home for rejects like me. Too old to get adopted and too troubled for anyone to voluntarily take on. I didn’t ask her anything else because I knew I didn’t have a fucking choice. Besides, I knew words don’t mean anything. I was a kid in the system. I went where they took me. Sometimes, I hated it. Sometimes, I really hated it. This time was different. In more ways than one. Usually, I was dropped off by my caseworker, and the people receiving me were about as excited as they were about junk mail. No one has ever come out to greet me before. As long as the woman at the door wasn’t sizing me up for a skin suit, it didn’t matter.

The social worker got out of the car as I grabbed the trash bag that I used to carry my shit around. She rang the bell, and a small, older woman opened the door. Joelle had told me in the car that the woman fostered several boys and I knew what that meant. She wanted the money the government gave her for keeping us. Well, I wasn’t going to make it easy for her. If she wanted to cash a check at the end of the month it was going to cost her. I’d make sure of it.

I had seen it all, but I still was caught by surprise when the tiny woman opened her arms at me and gave me a one-sided hug. A fucking hug.

“I’m very happy to meet you, mijo,” she said in a strong accent. “My name is Angelica Ortiz but everyone here calls me Abuela. Grandma in Spanish.”

The woman was deluded if she thought I’d call her grandma. She was obviously trying to impress the social worker with her fake kindness, hugs, and stupid names. I wasn’t going to be fooled that easily.

I didn’t even answer her as we stepped into the house. Another woman, a younger version of the one staring at me was waiting for us in the living room.

“Hi, you must be Drake. I’m Elena. Welcome.” She gave me a smile. Fake, I was sure but at least she hadn't tried to hug me. The older woman was talking to Joelle about me. Probably about my problems with authority, anger issues, and lack of communication skills. I knew my file by heart.

I barely nodded at Elena, and the three women exchanged a look. “Let me take you to your room, Drake. You’ll be sharing it with Maxwell. He’s doing his homework with my daughter in our house across the street. You’ll get to meet all the boys and my daughter Lexie tonight.”

She walked me to a room on the second floor of the house. It seemed clean and comfortable. Another ploy for the social worker. Two bunker beds with blue blankets and a wooden desk full of books were the biggest pieces of furniture. The left side of the room was covered in posters of who I figured were famous boy bands. There were a few of David Beckham, the only guy I recognized. Other than that there were clothes everywhere. That Maxwell dude was a fucking slob. Great.

“I told Max to take down some posters so you can decorate half of the room to your liking; This is your room as much as it is his. He's usually much more organized than this." I notice she speaks with a sort of fondness. "It was picture day for the school yearbook and he took hours getting ready. ”

I shrugged. I wasn’t planning to stay long anyway. I couldn’t care less if that Max kid left his posters on the walls or not.

She glanced at my garbage bag. “Are those your clothes, mijo?”

I scowled at her. I knew what mijo meant and I was nobody’s son. “My name is Drake.”

She smiled. “Of course, Drake. So, are they?”

I didn’t bother with an answer. A nod was enough.

“I cleared you this part of the closet, so you can keep them there. When you’re ready come downstairs; my mom and I will show you the rest of the house. The boys are out but we’ll all diner together tonight. Do you like Mexican food?”

I shrugged.

The woman smiled. “Shrugging is not an answer, mij- Drake. Either you like it, you don’t, or you haven’t tasted it in which case I can tell you, you’re missing out. Especially when mami cooks.” She winked at me as if we were friends or something. The woman was insane. “So, what is it, Drake?”

I’d never had it before, but she wasn’t going to tell me how to answer a damn question. “I hate it.”

She frowned --clearly disappointed, and I almost felt bad for her. Almost. “I’m very sorry to hear that. We already made Enchiladas for tonight and we don’t waste food. You can tell us your favorite dish though so we can make it for you.”

I shrugged again. Generally, that's when the person talking to me loses her patience but Elena Ortiz only smiled at me again. “Think about it. Every Sunday night, we pick someone’s favorite and cook it. It’s really fun. Next Sunday will be your first here, so you get to pick. Mami is a great cook and she can make anything from a mean chocolate cake to the best cheese pizza. See you downstairs, honey.”

Great. I’ve only been in this house for a few minutes, and I already hated it. The only thing worse than a home where you were beaten up as a welcome was a home where people pretended to care. My third foster home had been like that. Ms. Godwin had been all kind and nice at first. I almost felt like she cared about us. A week later, she had gotten drunk. For two days, neither I or the two girls she fostered had anything to eat because she hadn’t bought any groceries. I had to steal a twenty euro bill from her purse to buy food. She got angry and called the social worker who had come for me and taken me to the Fields. The worst home I ever lived in.

I wasn’t going to go downstairs but I decided that if I wanted a chance to escape it was better if I knew the house. Before I could explore a little, I heard my name from what I assumed was the kitchen.

Elena was crouching in front of the oven. “Drake has such sad eyes, mami. He’s only 14.”

The woman that had asked me to call her abuela, answered as she chopped an onion. “This boy has been living in the streets for more than a year. Do you realize it? Pobre angelito. So young and he has already seen more horrors than most people see in a lifetime.”

“Joelle told me that he had escaped from his last foster home.”

The older woman scoffed. “Home? If that’s how you call people that foster kids only for the money, they get in exchange. I don’t want to imagine why he fled those places." She turned to her daughter who had finished whatever she was doing in the oven and was drinking a bottle of water. "Stop watching me work, Elena and help me with diner, por Dios.”

Why was she pretending she didn’t care about the money? It was obvious. No one did anything for free. There was always a catch.

“Dónde está mi venadito?”

“Lexie and Max are at our house doing homework, mami. Be careful, though, if Lexie hears you calling her “your little deer” she’ll kill you. The boys called her Bambi for months after they heard you the last time.”

“Nonsense. She’s my venadito and that’s that. You two will come to eat here tonight. I want Drake to meet everyone.”

Elena rolled her eyes but patted her mom on the back. “Yes mami. Lexie is dying to meet him, she and Max made a chocolate cake for him. I’ll call her in a minute. Where are the boys by the way?”

“Bertie is trying to teach Leo how to drive. Poor boy, I hope he makes it alive.”

“Don’t worry. I’m sure Leo will be careful. Bertrand will be fine.”

“Oh, it’s not Bertie I’m worried about, it’s Leo. Bartie has no patience with him.”

I left the kitchen before they said anything else. I was sure I was going to hate this stupid place. I was angry. More than angry. Furious. After a year of successfully running away, I was back in the damn system. Back in yet another home where people seemed to care about me in front of the social worker just to ignore me –or worse, once she left. I had to admit that my new foster “moms” played their part better than most. The old one had hugged me and the other one had given me a smile that seemed real. But I knew better. No one really cared for me. No one gave a shit where I slept, what I ate, or if I was ill or scared. Not that I was ever scared. I had seen everything.

The front door was locked so I went to the backyard. I saw a small wooden house on top of one of the trees. I decided it was a good place to hide and be myself.

I sat there for a few moments when I heard someone climbing the tree.

“Hi!”

I looked up and saw a girl a couple of years younger than me. She had the biggest pair of brown eyes I’ve ever seen and was smiling at me as if I was her best friend.

“I’m Lexie! I live across the street. I’m Angelica’s granddaughter. You’re Drake, right?” I didn’t think it was possible to smile more but the girl proved me wrong when her grin widened. I simply nodded.

“Welcome! I know that it must be hard for you to feel at home because you like just arrived but you’ll love it here. I promise. Valtoria is great. We have lakes and the mountains and when it’s warm enough we can go camping all night. You’ll love the house too. I mean between you and me the boys are kind of a pain in the ass but they’re pretty great when they want to. Or when they're not teasing me. Especially Leo and Maxie. Bertrand is a know-it-all. He thinks because he’s sixteen he knows everything." She rolled her eyes clearly offended by the idea that someone could know more than her. "Abuela, that how we all call her because she’s Mexican and would murder us if we call her grandma, is amazing. I mean don’t get me wrong, she's super strict, and as my mom says the woman is never wrong but she’s the best person I know.”

I blinked. I didn’t know a person could talk that much without taking a single breath.

“Do you camp?” She asked as she folded her legs in front of her.

I did before. Before my dad died and my whole life blew up in a million pieces. Not that I would explain any of that to the chatty girl, so I just nodded again.

“Great! It’s getting warmer and Leo wants to go to a new camping site next weekend. Don’t tell him I said this but he’s like the worst camper ever. I have to double-check everything he does but I don’t tell him anymore because my mom said it wasn’t nice.”

I wondered how could someone carry a whole conversation by herself. I hadn’t pronounced a single word since the girl had shown up.

“I want to be your friend but I can see we’re about to have our first fight.” She told me in a teasing tone. “You’re wearing a Liverpool t-shirt. We worship Barcelona in this house. Well, Abuela, Leo and I do. The others couldn’t care less about soccer.”

I looked at the shirt she was wearing. It read "If they don't have soccer in heaven, I'm not going."

She noticed I was looking at her shirt and beamed. "Abue said my shirt was disrespectful to God but mom thought that was dumb and bought it for me anyway."

"Do you like soccer?" I finally asked.

“Like it? I love it! Did abuela saw your shirt? She hates European teams. She thinks Tigres is the best.”

“Tirgues?”

She laughed, and the sound of it did something weird to my stomach. “Tigres. It’s a Mexican team. She goes crazy when they play.”

“What team you like?”

“Barcelona, obviously.”

“Liverpool made it to the finals of the last Champion’s league.” I pointed out.

She shrugged. “They lost so it doesn’t count. Do you play?”

“Sometimes.” I tried not to show how much I loved it. It was something else my dad and I shared that had stopped when he died.

“I play too. How old are you?”

“Fourteen.”

“I'm twelve. Well, almost thirteen, my birthday is in May.”

I frowned. “It’s November.”

“I know. I’m almost there.” She beamed. "I'm almost closer to thirteen than twelve anyway."

“Do you always talk this much?”

She laughed and my belly did that weird thing again. “My mom says I was a parrot in another life. I talk more when I’m nervous.”

“You're nervous?” I liked that I could make her nervous but I didn't know why.

She blushed and I liked it too. “A little. What happened to your eye?”

“I got into a fight.”

“Wow. You can’t do that here. Leo is always getting into fights and abuela has to ground him.”

She sure mentioned that Leo guy a lot. “Is Leo your boyfriend?”

“Gross!! Leo’s is like my brother. He, Bertie, and Max live with abuela. We’re a family. You’re family too.”

Fuck that. No matter if the girl was sort of cute. I didn’t have a family. “No, I’m not. I’m not staying.”

“What? Why?”

“Because I don’t belong here.”

“Yes, you do; I swear. Plus, I need someone to coach me, so I can get into the school team next year. Leo promised he would, but he never has time.”

“I suck.”

She shook her head and smiled at me again. “Somehow I don’t think you do.” Then she gave me a conspiratorial look as she pulled out something from her jacket pocket. "You can't tell my mom about this but I took this from her room." It was a white iPod. After scrolling a little through the screen she settled on The Beach Boys. She couldn't possibly know it but they were my dad's favorites. She passed me an earbud and we didn’t talk after that. We just sat together for a while hearing music until we heard our names being called.

“That’s abuela. We should go. She hates to wait. Plus, I'm starving and we're having enchiladas. You'll love them.”

Lexie ran to her house to --as she put it-- 'hide the evidence.' I went back to her grandma's house and stepped into the kitchen.

“Drake, pass me the salt, mijo. It’s next to you on the counter,” Angelica said as she kept on turning the sauce she was making. “You like enchiladas?”

What was with all these women asking me what I liked to eat? I leaned against the black counter while she opened the lid of another steaming pot on the stove, and stirred its contents with a long wooden spoon. I shrugged. I didn’t know if I liked it. But it smelled better than anything I ever tasted, so it couldn’t be all that bad. My mouth started watering, and my stomach growled. Come to think of it, it had been a while since I’d last eaten.

“You know, I know you feel weird now. And you don’t like to talk a lot. Soon, you’ll learn that this is a safe place. We aren’t gonna judge a single word that comes out of your mouth or any of them that don’t.”

I suddenly felt like I owed her a verbal response in exchange for her kindness. Fake or not. Besides, I just knew the chatty girl I’ve just met wouldn’t be happy if I was rude to her grandmother. “Yes, ma’am.”

She smiled at my verbal response. “But just so you know. We do have a few rules in this house.”

Here it comes. The catch. Angelica put the lid back on the pot and leaned over the counter on her elbows. “You just need to go to school, find a hobby or sport you like, don't swear, respect the curfew and keep your room clean. Every child in this house has chores but it’s too soon to figure out yours. For now, you only have to get to know us.” Her eyes crinkled as she smiled at me. At that moment the timer of the oven rang and Angelica took a huge dish out of it. She covered it with more steamy, tomato sauce, sour cream, and grated cheese and put it back in the oven. At least, I might get some good food while I figured what I was going to do next. Because no matter how nice and kind everybody acted, I was not going back to school. I used to be good at it without much effort; I had friends and a soccer team. But I had missed a lot in the last two years. I felt dumb and stupid.

Suddenly, the front door slammed open. “Cuidado muchachos! Be careful with that door against the wall, or you’re going be spackling and repainting this entire house,” Angelica yelled out. Three teenage boys filed into the house, followed by just as many apologies.

“Sorry.” “Oops.” “It was Max’s fault.” “

“These are Maxwell, Leo and Bertie,” Angelica introduced. “Boys, this is Drake.”

“Hi, man!” The blond one said with a shit-eating grin. “Abuela, Lena, you guys didn’t tell me you were buying a Liverpool fan.”

“Adoption is not a purchase of people, Leo” the oldest one --Bertrand, corrected.

“Yeah, cause if it was, then you got Leo from the clearance rack,” the youngest one joked, checking his reflection in the hallway mirror, smoothing back an out-of-place dark hair. “I hope you kept your receipt.”

“Fuck, off,” the blond one replied with a middle finger.

“Watch it, Leo,” Angelica warned. “Boys.”

Max kissed her on the cheek. “Sorry, abue.” She forgave him with a smile, then swatted at his hand with her spoon when he dipped his finger into the pot.

“I’m glad you’re here, bro” Leo said. I stood, and he gave me a fist bump without touching my hand.

“Me too! And we’re going to be roomies,” the kid named Max said. He grabbed a stack of plates from the counter. I followed him over to the long dining room table and helped set the table for seven people.

2020

I lost count of how many days I’ve been in the hole. It wasn’t my first time in here and it sure as hell it wouldn’t be the last. It was always the same routine. Days and nights blended into one making it impossible to know what day it was or how much time I had been in here.

I have been in jail for six excrutiating years. I had known from the day I heard the sentencing that the only way I was going to survive was if I didn’t think about her. It was the hardest thing I had to do but after a while, my routine was running smoothly and when my head hit the pillow at night, I was too fucking exhausted. She haunted my dreams and my nightmares, but I didn’t think of her beyond that. Except for the hole. Locked up there, cold, hungry, and utterly alone her face, my memories of her were the only thing that helped me go on.

I replayed in my head our first encounter, our first kiss, our first time. I obsessed about her full lips, her expressive brown eyes, her gorgeous smile. I could spend hours picturing every single corner of her soft delicate curves. Sometimes, I wondered if --maybe, I didn’t start fights in the hope of being sent to the hole where I could spend my time fantasizing about her. It was pure torture, but I couldn’t help myself. The memories I had of her, of us and our short time together were the only light in my otherwise bleak life.

She still wrote me every week but I hadn’t open any single one of her letters. I didn’t want to know if she was moving on with her life or worst if she was waiting for me. Because that was what Lexie didn’t understand. Even if nothing happened and I was released in one year, I would never be that boy again. The Drake Walker she had known and loved was dead and she wasn’t going to like the man that had been left in his place. I was damn sure about that.

Tagging:

@mskaneko

@burnsoslow

@kingliam2019

@kat-tia801

@petiteboheme

@tinkie1973

@twinkle-320

@thegreentwin

@forallthatitsworth

@marshmallowsandfire

@marshmallowsaremyfavorite

@princessleac1

@lilacsandwhiskey

@lovingchoices14

@nomadics-stuff

#tw child neglect #tw child abandonment #tw children #tw child labor #axwalker writes #drake walker #drake walker fanfic #drake x mc #drake x lexie #trr fanfic #trr au fanfic

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hoodoo12 · 4 years ago

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Elegy (1/6)

What follows is a story of Miss Argentina and Beetlejuice and how their own personal issues keep them locked in their own private hells. Contains smut and angst. It was done as a rp between @clairjohnson and myself. NSFW. Beetlejuice/Miss Argentina. Beej is a combination of movie and musical; Miss Argentina has contains hcs (such as her name and circumstances). Also contains minor mentions of OC Dante’s Inferno employees. (Tagging people who have asked in the past. If you’d like to be tagged, hmu. If you’d like to be untagged, hmu. @turtlepated @thewolfisapartofmysoul @beetlewise-and-pennyjuice @janitor-boy @beejiesbitch @angelicspaceprince) Enjoy!

He’d married, been murdered, vanquished the evil that was Juno – he wasn’t looking forward to seeing her again anytime soon – said some weird heartfelt goodbyes to people he just terrorized, and was carried off by his clones in the smallest, most subdued mosh pit style ever, for an exit that was worthy of some kind of award, just for the theatrics of it.

The second he was through the swirling mists of the doorway that separated the living from the Netherworld, he turned on his own clones and attacked them remorselessly, using claws and teeth to tear them apart, growling like he’d lost his mind and spitting like he was rabid.

None of the clones attempted to fight back or escape. They were part of him, and he was so fucking angry – it made him angrier that they just took their destruction passively, his destruction, a destruction of self that made his hands drip with gore, his mouth taste like clotted blood, and his clothing, the tuxedo conjured specifically for something positive in his fucking waste of a life, a deeper color.

He hated this fucking suit.

He was too exhausted by the end of his rampage to flick it away, however. Stepping over the piles of meat that had been clones, he wiped his hands down his front and winced as they brushed over the new ventilation that goddamn teenager graced him with. He kicked the door to the waiting room hard enough that it bounced off the interior wall of purgatory, startling the assholes sitting around waiting for their stupid numbers to be called.

---

It had been another slow day in the waiting room. Not that Miss Argentina had any way to count “days” – time had little meaning in death – but her job was as uneventful now as it had been several hundred new arrivals ago. Staring down at her clipboard Maria crossed out the name of the last soul she’d sent back to meet their case worker. Juno was surprisingly absent at the moment, but the receptionist wasn’t too concerned. Her boss was a work-alcoholic and honestly, what else did Juno have to do? She’d be back soon.

In a practiced motion, one she’d done a million times, Maria stood and slid open the dividing screen to the waiting room.

“Number 5,678 Mr. Hen – “

The rest of the name caught in her throat when the door to the left of her was blown open, rattling on hinges that threatened to give. A split second of panic washed over her, an emotion really only needed for the living, before she saw who it was.

Betelgeuse.

“Mr. Hendrix,” she finished, moving her gaze from the fuming poltergeist to the sorry looking dead man standing up from his seat. “Your caseworker is waiting for you – please step through those doors.”

Maria placed her clipboard back on the desk then leaned out the window a little further, giving the older, bloodied man a deeper once over. “Back so soon, Mr. Betelgeuse? Should I pull you a number?”

"Fuck this place and fuck the numbers!" he spit, literally spit, making the ghost sitting nearest in his line of fire wipe his face as he hoisted himself up – some kind of heart attack took him, no doubt, from the lack of obvious trauma and the effort he took to get out of the molded plastic chair – and hurried as fast as he could out of range.

He could take that chair and beat down every wall in this place. He could tear apart every single soul in this forsaken pit. He could bypass the eons of fucking waiting and just march right down the hall to the Lost Souls' Room –

– scary thing was, that option held some real fucking appeal at the moment.

Beetlejuice glared at each and every dead person cowering in place. Fucking losers. Just like the fucking Maitlands, but worse, because they followed the goddamn directions in the fucking Handbook and were now stuck here.

But what did that say about him? the voice in the crate in the back of his mind whispered. You tried, and you still ended up right.here.with.them.

Beetlejuice grabbed the side of his head, mindless of the residual tackiness on his hand, and gave his hair a yank. Sometimes that dislodged the voice enough to make it shut up.

His gaze fell on the beauty queen behind the partition. He couldn't tell if she was politely waiting for his tantrum to subside, or if she was being indifferently patient, having seen it all before.

Maria wondered, absently, where all the blood had come from. She noticed the gaping hole in his chest and assumed it might all be his – but it was always hard to tell with Betelgeuse. His brand of “bio-exorcising” wasn’t the cleanest. However, based on his outfit, she doubted his day job was what sent him back here. The fool had tried to get married again.

Fixing him with a cool, pleasant smile, Maria yanked a number from the ticket dispenser and held it up. “I’ll just pull one for you, then. You know the rules – no number, no getting to see Juno.”

The beauty queen leaned further out of the window and rested her chin in the palm of her hand – her clipboard and list forgotten for the moment. Red tuxedo – a classic for him. How many times had she seen him in it? She could remember at least four, and she guessed he’d worn it twice as many times before she’d crossed over. Betelgeuse never told her how old he was, but after working with him for over three decades, it was clear he had a few hundred years under his belt.

When was he going to stop pulling this stunt? It never worked. Always ended up with him down in the waiting room – back here with her. Maria bristled, both angry and jealous that he got to leave this hell and go gallivanting top side as he pleased. Her smile tightened and she narrowed her eyes at him.

“You never invite me to your weddings,” Maria said casually, lifting the hand from her chin to examine the ruby manicure. “Any good plans for your honeymoon?”

She flicked her gaze up to catch his reaction.

The bitterness and pure rage inside him managed to ratchet up another notch with the receptionist's detached apathy to his situation as she offered the ticket out to him.

Anyone else, and he'd have taken that hand off at the wrist; he could feel his teeth lengthen in anticipation of it. As it were, he snatched the paper away with enough force to tear it. He crumpled it in his fist and shoved it into a pocket without looking at it, casting his glance around the room again at all the lesser assholes who were pointedly trying not to look at him and become the focus of his ire.

Maria's words, her barbed little query spoken in her light accent, just poured salt into the gaping hole in his chest.

"Fuck you," he roared. His voice cracked.

Maria was used to seeing Betelgeuse angry. She was also used to seeing him happy – manically so. The man had a way of taking emotions to the extreme. She was not, however, used to hearing the crack in his voice. The next biting remark died on her tongue and she peered up from her nails, her brow furrowing.

“Oh, don’t look so upset.” She tutted, but there was less sarcasm behind it. “You have all the time in the world to try again, don’t you? It’s not like you’re stuck here (like she was). Not for long, anyway.”

Had this time been different from his other attempts? The pain in his expression suggested so. If he kept this up she may just bring him around back to avoid disturbing the waiting ghosts. Maria didn’t like bending the rules, but for the good of her job she’d bend them. That’s what she told herself at least. For the job.

try again

not like you're stuck here

Her words meant to comfort stung, jamming themselves like smaller spears into his chest. She was partially right. It wasn't like he was stuck here, so long as he could convince some dumb sucker to fulfill the terms of the contract. Finding the right dumb sucker was what took the time and energy.

That led to the whole "try again" debacle. What was the point? He'd never succeed; despite the seemingly impressive power he had in the upper world, it was useless. He was useless, like everything was smoke and mirrors and the one being fooled was him.

He realized he had his fists clenched so hard he was shaking. The ghosts surrounding him in the mismatched furniture, patiently waiting their turn, still did their damnedest to pretend they heard and saw nothing.

"No one is like me!" he'd shrieked in the Maitlands' faces.

The stupid deads sitting here proved it. He had half a mind to grab the nearest one and rip him apart like he'd treated his clones, just to continue to give his rage an outlet, but on top of everything else he didn't want to deal with the consequences of that. Maria was still watching him, as if she expected him to do something of the sort, like she was steeling herself to have to intervene and de-escalate him, even though he knew it wasn't anywhere near part of her job.

The shaking of his fists drew her gaze down – would he really be so brash as to tear through the souls waiting? Not that he could actually kill anyone, but it would make them have to get a new place in line . . . and the paperwork involved would be a headache.

Maria lifted her Miss Argentina sash over her head and draped it on the back of her chair. Quietly, but quickly, she moved around her desk and out the side door that led to the waiting room. Like approaching a wild animal you didn’t want to startle, Maria crept forward. Delicately, she placed her fingers on the side of his arm to get his attention, keeping her back straight and her expression calm.

“How about you come wait in the back, Mr. Betelgeuse.”

Her voice was smooth. She had started adding in the “Mr.” when he’d gone rogue and stopped working for Juno. The days of familiarity, of her calling him “Beej”, were long gone. Maria still kept a certain level of fondness for the poltergeist, though she’d never admit it aloud.

The roots of his hair were probably the color of this fucking suit.

When Maria physically approached and laid a manicured hand on his arm, he almost spun on her. When the pressure on his arm increased, aided by her nails digging in so hard he could feel them through the layers of fabric, he forced himself to relent.

"Fine," he agreed bitterly.

She’d felt him tense at her touch, and Maria briefly considered she’d made a grave mistake approaching him, until his muscles relaxed – slightly – under her fingers. Thank goodness.

Keeping her hand on his arm the receptionist guided him to the office door. She peered out to catch the relief on the newly dead faces before shutting it behind her.

“Take a seat.” She gestured to the chair next to her desk and sat back down on her own. She wanted to stay disinterested, wanted to keep things professional, but she couldn’t.

“So.” Maria pulled some papers together and tapped them on her desk until they were even. “Is most of that blood yours? I haven’t seen you looking so . . . out of sorts in quite some time.”

The beauty queen looked at him from the corner of her eye, pretending to keep most of her attention on the work in front of her.

He sat where indicated, in the hard straight back chair beside her desk. If he wanted, he could look up and see the filing cabinets, the paths in the rug worn through to the subfloor underneath, the endless stacks of paper, and the hallway where the caseworker's offices were.

He didn't want to. He could walk through the place blindfolded. Nothing changed in the Netherworld; it was all slog and dismay. And they thought he was crazy for wanting back out?!

A cigarette appeared in his hand. Sticking it between his lips he glanced up at her question and statement.

"Yeah. The blood's mine. First from that goddamn teenager and second – " He broke off there and used lighting the cigarette as an excuse not to finish and admit he'd torn apart his own clones in a fit of rage. " – never mind. Nothing matters. It's the same shit for eternity."

Maria watched, with pointed interest, as he brought the cigarette up to his mouth. Well, at least the blood was his. Less mess for Juno to clean up later.

“Thanks.” She drawled sardonically, bringing her own cigarette into existence. “I’d love one.”

As she took a drag, Maria let his remark sit in silence for a few moments, unsure of how to respond. Most of the dead seemed to be having an on-going crisis – and if Beej had been feeling the same, he’d never let on.

“You’ve always been one for the dramatics. But never nihilism.” She paused, “ – also, did you just say teenager? You know what – I don’t want to know.”

She threw her hand up at that, waving the question off. He was a scumbag, to be sure, but the thought of him being that scummy was not an idea she wanted to entertain.

He'd have felt bad about not offering her a smoke if he was in a different state of mind. As it were, it didn't even register until she pointed it out. Even then he couldn't quite bring himself to care. It was easy, however, to fill in the blanks she left out.

"It was a fuckin' green card thing," he growled. "Most teens – especially gothy ones who think their existence is the worst of anyone, ever – are dumb as shit. Easy to manipulate. Except this one was too damn clever for her own good. She used – "

It was on the tip of his tongue to admit his naked, desperate desire to be accepted was used effectively against him, but that made sour bile rise in the back of his throat and he had to swallow it down again.

" – ugly art to impale me," he corrected after only a brief hesitation. He took a deep drag, and was dismayed to see that some smoke drifted out the hole in his chest. That kid must've punctured a lung. He sighed as he pulled at his shirt to try and cover it.

From the corner of his eye he watched her watch him. He didn't want her pity. He didn't know what he wanted, but he knew he didn't want her pity.

Maria felt herself relax at his growled response – pleased to hear he was still a normal scumbag of the con-man variety. She couldn’t hide the twitch of her lips into a smile when he admitted how he kicked the bucket this time around. She’d seen a lot of dumb ways to die, but ugly art was a first. Chuckling through a drag, she eyed the smoke coming out of his chest, causing her lips to curl even further upward.

As good as it was to have him talking, the anger radiating off him was still obvious. She could practically feel it on her skin. Whenever he got out of hand Juno was usually around to deal with him – but not this time. She was still surprisingly absent. Fortunately, Maria had worked here long enough to know what her boss’s trump card was.

“Juno’s been away from the office today.” she started, putting out her cigarette in the glass tray on her desk. “And you look like you’re in the need of a distraction after . . . your little accident.”

The receptionist spun her chair to face him, one slender bare leg crossed over the other, and raised a brow at the bloodied ghost.

“How does a drink or two at Dante’s sound? On Juno’s tab, of course.”

She smiled, scarlet lips parting to show off her straight white smile. In many ways the two were opposites. Beej was unapologetically himself, moss and all, while Miss Argentina went to great lengths to appear perfect. Even though she had let some of that anxiety go in death, bad habits were hard to break.

“I’ll join you – if you don’t mind. I could use some time out of the office.”

In an effort to appear disinterested in the state of both his clothing and the new hole he was going to have to figure out how to close, Beetlejuice kept his eyes on the paperwork she'd straightened. A kid's profile, from the looks of it. One perk about working as Juno's assistant way back when was helping the kids when they came through –

He glanced up sharply when Maria mentioned Dante's. Actually suggesting it, and accompanying him to it. He would've thought that the beauty queen would pretend that place never existed, although he knew she must have been both scouted and offered a job there.

"On Juno's tab? A drink or five sounds great."

Some time that old hag was going to show up again, slathered in Sandworm spit and gastric juices, and he'd much rather not be found here if possible. He stood up abruptly, making the wooden chair squeal against the floor.

"Fine. I'll let you take me out."

“Only drinks, Mr. Betelgeuse. I’m not paying for any other services.”

Miss Argentina hadn’t had a chance to be out in quite some time. With an eternity stretching out in front of you, there was little rush to do much of anything other than your assigned job. Peering down at her burgundy gown, she also realized she hadn’t changed her outfit in years – wearing the same dress to two different parties used to be a mortifying thought when she was alive.

How things change. The beauty queen stood, and with a few moments of concentration, changed into a red cocktail dress. Her French curled hair now in tight waves around her shoulders. It felt nice. A little like being alive, even. Even if it was just to go out and watch this man get drunk off his ass. But she understood his desire to live again – didn’t all ghosts wish they could be top side? He was certainly the most tenacious about getting there.

“All right, ready when you are,” she said while smoothing down her new outfit. She turned from the older man and started towards the office exit, throwing a ‘are you coming?’ glance over her shoulder at him.

He couldn't tear his eyes away from her hands smoothing down the fabric of her choice of dress. With his cigarette still caught between two fingers, he ran his thumb over his lower lip, thinking about the differences between the dead and the breathers changing clothing – the breathers had to take it off and put it back on, versus simply willing a new outfit into existence.

Of course the dead could be titillatingly mundane, if they chose. It was too bad this was the never-closed office, and there was a waiting room full of ghosts on the other side of the glass partition –

At her invitation and with a sigh, Beetlejuice stepped off the road that daydream was headed. He'd lost the chance with her a long time ago.

He flicked his still lit cigarette into the ether and decided if she was going to be dolled up, it wouldn't be right for him to accompany her in what he was wearing. Between one step towards the door and the next, his blood-soaked tux became his favorite striped suit. He left the hole in his torso under his shirt.

"Lead the way, muñeca." tbc . . .

#writing #role-play #BeetleTina #Beetlejuice #Miss Argentina #Beetlejuice x Miss Argentina #Movie Beetlejuice #musical Beetlejuice #fanfiction #rp

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huenjin · 4 years ago

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2020 year end greetings.

disclaimer: this is going to be very long ( ˶ ❛ ꁞ ❛ ˶ ), but that's how much gratitude i have and so much more of love.

2020. ah, this year was a very emotional journey for me and how i wish i could sing jessi's gucci all throughout. however, that was not the case. tumblr helped me run away from all those irl miseries. these people made me feel at home.

this skz writing blog has been existing from the last few days of september and it came to life when i was losing motivation to write on my main (which i closed down because stray kids made me like writing back again) and it's stayed since then. you guys have stayed since then. grateful, a one hundred times and more.

so, this is rue, getting sappy and so much more thankful for everything i have and recieved with this blog. this is rue, asking you to accompany me for a little more and to listen to the stories i have to share. the is rue with heart full of nothing but love for each one of you.

to each one of my mutuals, for whom i pray to the stars to shower you with nothing but fortune —

@sinisterlyhan ♡ eiko, best thing i ever did was hit you up. how are you always so calm? or at least that's the tone i have in my head when i read your texts. it's so pleasant to talk to you. ily. and let me get started on your writing — you've heard this from me like every day but ma'am, you make magic. you lace stars together to form such a beautiful constellation of a writing and i fall in love a little more. thank you for inspiring me to always do better!

the hyunsung demon!au (whew!) — 01. 02. 03.

this hyunjin bad boy!au

@mochinnie ♡ isa, how i wish you handled yourself with a little more care. you're so fragile and delicate and i just want to protect you ?? so much ??? you're precious and one of the most beautiful people i have met. your characterisation is just perfect and god, i wish i could once write headcanons like you do. thank you for being my friend and for fangirling to me and for loving me. it means the world. psst, ily.

this seungmin fic

querencia | hh

@sparklemin ♡ nara!!!! big brain nara! god i love how your asks make my whole day and how you bring up different minho agendas in my head. you have my whole heart and i'm in love with you bye

girlfriend | bcn

hidden confession | bcn

@bearseungmin ♡ dawnie babie thank you for being such an enthusiast all the time while talking. you're so cheerful and happy and thank you for being this nice <33

beat it to the door | bcn

could listen to you read the dictionary | lfl

@chogiout ♡ yah, kira! sometimes i want to whack the back of your head like i whack my sister's, okay? it's the same kinda sibling love with you. fuck, not ever going to let you leave me. after all, my parents taught me to take responsibility of the stuff i rid innocence of. (lmao, sorry, bitch ily!!)

memoir | jyh

this youth of craziness | csn

@mikoto-ica-fics ♡ mi, bb! thank you for being so supportive. istg, if it weren't for you reblogging that one fic of mine, my fics would have never seen light to this day. it's easy to get lost in the tags hehe. and then i happen to text you and omg, aren't you the nicest ever? i love your story ideas, the way you write, the way you interact with people and thank you for talking to me. you make me want to be better.

entangled | lmh, hjs

power grab | hjs

@toffee-hwa ♡ ana! anaaaa~ you're so enthusiastic and supportive and fuck, i looooove ranting and fangirling to you! and the minute i know you're watching the same kdrama as i am, i just go like wheeeeeee— HAN SEOJUN!!! lmao, but thank you so much for talking to me, for listening and for caring! my romanian queen, you pretty human, you're the best!

yet, pt.i

yet, pt.ii

@chandisiacs ♡ yah, pav! must i drag you back to tumblr from twt? must i? i miss you. i really do and i can't wait to have your arse back here. thank you for being such a lively person to talk and hang out with, eee! and not at how you succeeded nano! inspirational! thank you x

thread of all your legendary aus

starboy | bcn

@unsaidhj ♡ you're so soft. and god i love you? and your aesthetics. it's a thing, ma'am. i existed to see your aesthetics lmao. and then i text you and you're so kind omg. i could never hate you so please, ma'am, stop telling me that in panic? huihui, ily and i hope you stay healthy. place yourself first, bb.

knife under my pillow | hhj

scammer, scammed | bcn

@sleepylixie ♡ yo, neighbor! you reminded me how small the world can actual get! love love talking to you about irl stuff because you can understand how messed up it is! and you're so kind, ah!!

in umbra

passion's abyss | lmh

@dreamyhan ♡ one of the few people i see on my dash and go like — hazeeeeeeeeel! you're just so nice, god. like if cotton candy was a person, it would be you, alright? and then there's your writing ability that skyrocket off the roofs because it is that good. thank you for being so supportive and nice to me! x

next time | bcn

in his arms | hjs

@itsapapisongo ♡ boy, my main man, javi!! your work was once my most favorite thing to listen to. loved how the mall worked and everything. and then there's how supportive you are like omg. if only i could explain the courage you give me. it's infinite. you make me feel infinite. also, #hardhours, right?

george of the jungle

swimming fool

@kabira ♡ typing the url down was even more romantic, manx. don't ever change this. love how strong and bold you are. love your opinions and love your writings even more. you're one of those few people who write like they mean every word from their heartstrings. thank you for providing us with stories to tell for eons. x (psst, ily so much!)

backstreet driving | hhj (that's the first skz fic i read because it was from you and not because it was skz and aren't i glad?)

sic semper tyrannis | lty

@dalknow ♡ the only other person on tumblr that i text religiously on discord. i love talking to you, bb. love getting personal with you. love how i can share absolutely anything. thank you for trusting me. thank you for listening to me. thank you for loving me. can't wait for you to put your stories back up on this acc. you're undefeatable and i know you'll have that known.

to each one of my anons, for whom i pray that you stay safe and healthy and most importantly, happy —

🧸 :: put you on the anon list because in my head you are that anon — my very first one and the one that lit up my whole world. it's kind of a very proud moment when someone wants to talk to you. you made me feel that. you made feel loved. and to see how well your blog is doing now, god, i feel like a proud mother.

🐠 :: my greek princess. the fact that i learnt more about breads from you than from my school makes me laugh hehe. you really did light up my world with every ask you sent me and had me unknowingly hope that you are happy in every minute. and now that i know who you are, i'm even more content because you're a mutual too now!

🍧 :: god, you have a special place in my heart, ice cream anon! maybe because you liked me more than my fic and followed me here even though you were an anon from my bts blog. fuck, if that didn't make my heart flutter, nothing ever will! (hush, your relationship is something i am still rooting for!!)

🦊 |🌹| 🥀 | 🛸 :: the way you guys keep checks if i'm staying hydrated and healthy. i am. and even when i wasn't, your asks made me go drink a cup of water ha! thank you for loving me x

tiktok anon :: ♡♡♡♡♡♡ yes idk what else to say to you but that i would give you a piece of my heart. your tiktok asks make my whole day. it's something i look forward too! thank you for always making my day!

and to my other anons, tagged or untagged :: thank you for sending me an ask. every single one, either telling me to stay happy or hydrated, or that my fic was great or that you're feeling extra horny that day (we've all been there!) i appreciate it and thank you for making me smile! x

to all the mutuals that i admire, look upto and wish we talked waaaay more, let's do it soon please! and to some mutuals that i just miss talking to! —

@nightshade-minho (ily! x nicest bean ever!!) :: @satanssmuts :: @lovebini :: @seraplantery :: @xiaojunssmile :: @chan-skz :: @chanluster :: @decembermoonskz :: @bangtantaegi (queen!!) :: @yunhozone (i miss you!!) :: @inkigayeo :: @vocalyunho

i hope each one of you stay happy, content and loved. my memory is pea sized and so i do pray that i haven't forgotten any! thank you for being my mutuals, for sharing laughter and talks with me for these months i've been here! i’m sorry if i missed anyone, but i seriously do appreciate everyone that i’ve ever talked to on here though! i hope to see you all next year and let's be happy together !!

with much love, x rue!

#thank you 2020 #boost!#rue gets sappy yes!!#.txt

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ruby-whistler · 3 years ago

Note

(quicksandblock) hi! I just left you a giant wall-of-text response on your Dream post, and though I think it came across well enough, I just want to state my lack of hostile intent over here as well lol. I know stuff like this that people feel strongly about can get very tense so I just wanted to make doubly certain you know I'm not trying to pick a fight or anything. it kind of sucks that I feel like I need to clarify that but that's fandom culture for you sometimes :P

also, I would love to talk to you about Dream characterization. I think I disagree with you on a lot of different points and I love his character, so I'm very interested in understanding your perspective!

hey, hello! found a c!dream enthusiast/enjoyer, that’s cool, hi! :]

[copied part i put in front of each reply, hence different capitalization]

Alright, so first as a quick disclaimer, I’m going to put a summary of the original post’s points, just to ensure that we’re on the same page;

The post does say:

- don’t dehumanize c!Dream because it continuously hurts people who relate to and/or sympathize with him, also dehumanization in general is an inherently wrong mindset

- don’t attack people who sympathize with him because he’s a victim of abuse besides other things

The post never says:

- you cannot hate c!Dream and not sympathizing with him is wrong

- the things c!Dream has done are to any degree excused

- don’t dehumanize c!Dream because he’s a good person

- people who dehumanize c!Dream are real life abuse apologists

If you read the post and didn’t get these points from it, i advise you to reread it as I made pretty much all of these abundantly clear.

[end of disclaimer]

i never said anyone could infringe on his human rights! i… literally never said that! i said “they ignore” when characters do it, but that was a run-on sentence, i get how that might’ve been easily misunderstood. but yes, he’s a fictional character, i’d never said people could actually hurt him or anything in that sense.

the thing is, i still find them saying they enjoy it… wrong? the people yelling in tommy’s chat for c!dream to hurt him more were freaking victim blaming pricks, and if what they did was the widespread fandom opinion it would be hurting actual people with trauma. i ask people to look at the c!dream situation with the same severity, because it’s actually happening and it’s highly disturbing, not just from principle, but because of what it leads to within the community.

sorry for comparing his situation to c!tommy, but narratively i believe the prison arc is a deliberate parallel to exile, and comparing his situation to someone they’ve not dehumanized seems to be the only way to knock sense into some people.

i am happy you don’t seem to be one of the people who dehumanize him. you’re not the target audience of this post - neither are abuse victims who project onto him. i know people who c!tommy reminds of their abuser (because of personality traits), or even c!quackity, that’s fine. they’re totally free to hate their respective character, of course, without being,, actually right about them. that being said, majority of this fandom is dehumanizing c!dream and being mad at people sympathizing with him “on behalf of the abuse victims”, not actual victims themselves, and by doing this they are unknowingly hurting other people rather than helping anything, and spreading misinformation as well as making a lot of fans in general uncomfortable. i believe this is something that needs to change in the community.

hating him is fine, but group-based dehumanization in my mind is not. if you go on twitter and search “c!dream” and see 100 people saying they wish the abuse victim you project onto is hurt more (this is not a twitter thing, c!dream tag is the same thing, a majority of the crit is untagged but it,, doesn’t really matter because even tagged hate riles up more people) that freaking sucks and is something that the community needs to work on, not shoved under the rug and pretend it wasn’t there because some people tag it.

“the abuse victims who are hurt by people saying they should be sympathetic towards Dream are in fact just as hurt as the abuse victims who relate to Dream and are hurt by people saying his evil.”

this is not wrong. it’s right actually, but i’m not talking about this fandom calling him evil/unable to be sympathized with/irredeemable. i mean, that’s hurtful dehumanization as well, but this community doesn’t “say he’s evil” it “says he deserves to keep being horribly abused and/or die”.

and… i wasn’t talking about/saying abuse victims should sympathize with him either? i’ve said like five times that people can hate him as much as they want, but dehumanization is another thing. it’s the majority of this community (this post wasn’t targeting abuse victims in the slightest) taking away his positive human qualities, hence believing he doesn’t deserve human rights, and turning him into some sort of punching bag or personification of evil, which i find deeply disturbing since he’s being related to by abuse victims, and also blatantly incorrect to the character.

so, you’d be right, if the situation was what you described. it… really isn’t. the dream smp fanbase isn’t populated by abuse victims in any corner. it’s two small groups, one of them hurt (undeservingly) by a few and the other one hurt (no more or less undeservingly) by a majority of the fandom without anyone batting an eye.

and this post isn’t even about abuse victims in the first place; it’s about dehumanization. while its impact plays a big role in why i wrote this, things like these being widespread in the fandom makes so many people uncomfortable or pressured not to sympathize with a recently made sympathetic character that they might (but could not) relate to. relating to him myself, i might not have a say in this, but my compassion in general made me switch over to the c!dream sympathetic people, not anyone in the community or projection.

the results i relayed here weren’t the only results of the survery. people mentioned pandora’s vault as their reasons for being dream apologists,, over and over and over again. a lot of them mentioned the fandom response specifically.

it’s making the fandom not only unsafe to a small group of traumatized people, but also fans in general, who are equally as important to feel comfortable. hell, the reason dream apologists are such a tight-knit community that accepts little to no outside feedback is because of the hatred that is endlessly nurtured outside, that makes people feel anxious or not safe just for sympathizing with a victim of abuse.

i myself find this a problem that people should attempt to change beyond using crit tags more. feel free to not agree with that, but a lot of affected people do.

i agree the disc finale was actually cathartic! well, that’s a lie, i used to hate c!dream’s guts before that but that was the very instance where i saw a person behind the mask and went “oh, this is a whole mess isn’t it”, but it was,, cathartic to a lot of other people that didn’t use to have intense empathy to inanimate objects as children djskdjsk (i was a weird kid and still am, don’t mind that)

do you know what is cathartic? when a dog terribly bites a child, gets kicked away and gets put in a cage. do you know what isn’t cathartic? …that dog getting repeatedly beaten, starved and abused while trapped in said cage. even in fiction, and i say that as someone who was terribly bitten by a dog.

i don’t mind fictional characters suffering - frick, angst is my jam, i’ll write a character dying over and over again and have fun, but people justify that or make fun of people who don’t by saying openly that they enjoy it,, because he’s done bad things.

here comes the double standard. the exile arc wasn’t cathartic just because tommy burnt down a house, because hell, that wasn’t fair retribution. same goes for dream.

there is a difference between enjoying dark media (something i do frequently and is something i like doing) and open dehumanization and often normalized harassment of people who don’t do the same or condemn that. that is something that in my mind shouldn’t be a mainstream thing in the community.

to be fair, people saying an abuse victim no longer being hurt is “bad writing” or “insensitive” as i’ve seen people say would probably piss me off, but i’m,, not going to harass them. maybe a passive-aggressive vague-post if enough big accounts do it, but i think that’s justified. feel free to disagree - i still respect abuse victims who wouldn’t like that, but people who just don’t want the writers to humanize a character they’ve dehumanized will probably grind my gears.

this community,, isn’t working like this. i wrote this because people are repeatedly being hurt by the community or feel bad in it because of widespread opinions and dehumanization of a character that is as of late written to be sympathetic to the audience. that’s not a disagreement, the people who are actually sympathetic are a minority in the fandom, which would be fine with me, if they weren’t constantly invalidated, triggered and harassed as a direct result of the dehumanization discussed in this post.

besides the fact that the principle of dehumanization applied to c!dream is wrong - and if people find themselves doing that, it’s good for them to find a way to realize that, such as this post, because projection =/= dehumanization, and this post is targeting one, not the other - this is why i wrote this post. i still believe my points are valid and important for this fandom to consider.

you know, we could talk about the characterization right now - but after this i’m going onto a two month long hiatus for the sole purpose of studying the character. i’m not joking, this is what i’m dedicating my summer to. since i’m also closing my asks because of this, i can write this down and @ you when i’m done? :D i’d love to talk about him but i’m going to have so much more evidence after this, so maybe we can put this off for a while if you don’t mind! of course feel free to continue the dehumanization debate in a string of reblogs since it’s pretty much a different debate entirely.

( @zrenia @caketexturepack just tagging some people who responded to your response and might be interested in the continuation of the debate - also curious anon i saw your two asks i was just busy djsjdks please don’t spam about people who replied to me, i have a bad memory but i write this stuff down, actually )

#my asks #discourse #tw dehumanization #tw abuse #tw torture #tw animal abuse #long post

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shnuggletea · 4 years ago

Photo

Alright, let’s try this again. Yesterday, I posted this then checked it an hour later and it looked NOTHING like the post I made?! So I deleted it. Thank you to those of you who liked and reblogged, @malditamigs and @master-ray5 are the ones I remember and I should have written the names down so I'm sorry if I'm snubbing you right now. It’s unintentional.

You all voted so here it it! The Shogun’s Daughter! Synopsis: Kagome’s father passed away when she was just a child but his Shogun status still makes her a valuable bride to a Lord of lands that border their village. She isn’t given much choice but still agrees to marry the stranger so those she cares and loves would be happy and safe, taking her village under his protection in return for her hand. Lord Inuyasha Tenoe is pushed by the council into marriage, assured his new bride was an excellent choice. He has his doubts but has no choice, agreeing to the match sight unseen. All their fears and anxiety are amplified when they meet. It’s an interesting coupling to say the least.

An extended teaser is now available and chapter one will be available Sep. 18th at 9 am on my Patreon! Ff and AO3 I'm afraid it won't be available there until November. I will still post teasers here for free so if you want in, TELL ME TO ADD YOU TO MY TAG WALL!!! Link to Patreon below after the teaser!!!

TAG WALL!!! Sorry for the tag/untag bull from yesterday!!!: @underwater0phelia @lavendertwilight89 @mamabearcat @nartista @nopenname22 @echobows @superpixie42 @smmahamazing @redflamesofpassion @jme-chan @cstorm86 @cicleydark-light @ruddcatha @lavaffair @kirrtash @sistasecbhere @inusgirl @obsessandfangirl @britonell @lordofthechips @mcornilliac @faolenwolf @classyhumanathletepalace @keichanz @phoenix-before-the-flame @artisticloveexpressitsall @lamuertadehambre @noyourenotreal @mitty-san @thenoammonster @little-deeluna @royaltrashpanda @sailorbabydoll92 @storyweaver2017 @malditamigs @adorabubblesblog @lilms-obsessed @petri808 @anniehcresta @fan-dumpp @itzatakahashi @utakuprincess @theschultinator @all-too-ale @little-inukag-obsessed @theseagullqueen @queenofthesquirps @inusgirl @jolinaaa00 @knowall7k @neutronstarchild @fawn-eyed-girl @eringobroke @sapphirestarxx @clearwillow @dangerouspompadour @alerialblu

@lemonlushff Thank you again for all your help with setting this up! As well as all those in Book Club that encouraged me helped me find the confidence to do this! Most of you are tagged above but if I missed you, please come yell at me!

It was dark and hard to breathe, but he was alive. It was pure luck, the falling rocks landing in a manner that had him cocooned by them, a small space just for his vital organs. His left arm wasn’t so lucky, crushed and trapped under a few rocks, he had to get it free first. Careful not to pop the bubble he was in, he extracted his arm. The only thing that appeared broken was his wrist but it was hard to tell in the light he had and the fact that his shoulder was dislocated. It had gotten yanked out when the rocks fell and pulled his trapped limb.

Now he had to figure out how to get out of his coffin, pushing slightly on the ones before him. He wouldn’t be so lucky that only a thin layer of rock was between him and freedom. Pulling one at a time, he was running out of space to put them. And he was hurt and tired.

It became clear to him, he was going to starve to death before he made it out.

He wasn’t giving up, just resting. That’s what he told himself as he sat on the ruble under him. Cradling his arm, he tried not to think about Kagome but it was impossible. If he had been focused, then maybe he wouldn’t be in this mess now. But there was nothing he could do about that now, so what harm was there in thinking about her?

A lot. A lot of harm as her smile came into his mind because he realized he would probably never see it again.

No, he couldn’t think like that. He couldn’t think about her. It only distracted him and made him weak.

Getting back to his feet, he got back to work. Endless and terrible, he made little headway when he started hearing voices. He must have hit his head a few times, it did sting a bit. Two voices now, they reminded him of Miroku and Myoga. Of course, his mind would make him hear their voices. Why couldn’t he hear Kagome’s? That would be nice, her voice in his head as the last thing he ‘heard’.

The sound of rocks falling started to make it over the voices, his bubble was caving in on him. That’s what he thought, but when he braced himself as best he could, nothing happened even though the sound continued.

Light peeked through the rocks and he slowly got his wits about him to look through the small hole that appeared. “There you are, my Lord.”

Never had he been so happy to see Myoga’s round and wrinkled face. “Hey…”

“Step back, things might get a little...wild.”

He couldn’t see him, but he heard Miroku and stood back. For a thin guy, Miroku was surprisingly strong when he needed to be. This was something he had known for years but it never ceased to amaze him. Several minutes later, he was breathing in fresh air, and soft cold flakes fell on his skin. He had no clue how long he’d been in there but it felt like days and there was no light in the sky.

“We have to get across the rockslide to get home.”

He groaned with Myoga’s information, not a word said otherwise as the two of them took a side. Nearly lifting him, the three of them began their journey in the dark with snow. A small slip could break bones or crack skulls so they were silent the entire time, focusing on their feet and the rock path beneath them.

Dawn was just breaking when they reached the other side, sliding down it from time to time thanks to exhaustion. When they reached more level and stable ground, they all fell to the ground, panting.

“Where are the rest of the men?”

The rocks covered a small portion of the pass, enough to bury several people and he had a feeling that’s where many of his men were. Only a few bodies littered the pass before them but he doubted all of them were under the rocks.

“Those that survived left already I suppose. With no proof of life and their lives on the line, they fled.”

“But you two stayed. Even with your injuries.”

Miroku was sporting a bad cut across his brow and a limp. Myoga had gashes on his back that ripped his coat and shirt, leaving him exposed to the elements. It was hard to believe the three of them would make it home as they were but they sure as hell would try.

Myoga took a few steps ahead of them and visibly stiffened. “What is it, old man?”

Ignoring his jab and attempt to lighten the mood, Myoga searched around the limited space. “I smell tar.”

He really must have hit his head because not only could he not smell anything, he couldn’t focus on his surroundings. The snow blurred together and made the shapes more like shadows. Shadows that moved.

Want more? Want to support me as a writer? Want to support the Fandom?? Become a Patreon! There is/will be Sailor Moon fanfiction on there as well as original content and you have a choice of Fandom, so no worries. Check it out!! Reblogs are very much appreciated!

#inuyasha fanfiction #inuyasha fanfic #inuyasha #Kagome Higurashi #sango #miroku #a little miroku x sango #inuyasha x kagome #inukag #kikyo #naraku #myoga #historical fiction #historical references #going for historically accurate #inuyasha fandom #sailor moon fandom

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coffee-n-bagels-comic-universe · 3 years ago

Text

Superheroes with Secrets: Superheroes and Secret Identities (Fic part 2) (Set in 2001)

Around 2000 Words. 18+ in places.

Tags: @piratewithvigor please inform me if you wish to be tagged/untagged from posts

‘Giantess’ Kirby Roussimoff x Shane 'Hurricane’ Helms (Circa 2001)

Reference Posts: Shane 'Hurricane’ Helms

Kirby 'The Blacklight Bandit’ Roussimoff

Notes: The story is set in 2001, which would make Helms 27 and Kirby 31. This story also blends Kayfabe and Reality. Certain people speak in different colours, Mainly: Helms is Green. Kirby is Orange. Kane is Red. Undertaker is Purple. Big Show is Blue.

Kirby walks back to her locker room, a pep in her step, she stops for a second to finish her coffee, crushing the Styrofoam cup and dropping it in a nearby bin, then continues on to her room and changes into her 'street clothes'.

Helms is practically on cloud nine as he gets showered and changed, making all the men give him a bit of a look. No one ever looks so happy and bouncy after getting the shit kicked out of them.

Kirby packs her stuff in her gym bag, slipping both her gym bag and satchel over her left shoulder, she walks out to her SUV, grabbing her keys out of her satchel and opens the trunk of her car, placing her gym bag in the back before closing the trunk and locking the car.

Helms spots her across the parking lot and almost comes running before he remembers to maintain his cool.

Kirby doesn't notice him at first, making sure everything in her satchel bag is in the right place.

He almost looks like a little shadow from the black hoodie and the fact he's over a foot shorter. He's only a couple steps from her car before she looks up. "All set?" He asks, trying to look as suave as possible.

"Yea- what are you wearing Helms? I thought you said no one would notice us." Kirby lets out a small giggle upon noticing Helms' neon green trousers and the jet black hoodie.

Kirby's wearing a black jumpsuit with a tie-dye shirt underneath, paired with black combat boots and a black and orange Jersey jacket.

"No one will notice us cause it's empty this time of night. Besides, Madam Roussimoff The Orange, I don't think you're looking any less bright." He teases lightly.

"Mini Hulk," Kirby teases back, covering her mouth before Helms is able to notice her smile.

"What is it with superheroes and green? They're all green. Anyone with a single distinct colour is always green."

"Iron Man isn't green, Batman isn't green, Superman isn't green." Kirby notes, almost to herself.

"Superman and iron man have no colours that really matter to them. They've both worn other colours all the time. Batman... yeah, I guess black is a colour."

"Technically black isn't a colour, it's a shade. I can't think of a single green super heroine, maybe She Hulk, but she usually wears purple and white." Kirby notes, almost lost in thought, "never really grew up on superheroes, the Addams family however, I grew up on reruns of that show."

"Did you know the living room set was actually pink on that show?"

"Yes, did you know that Ted Cassidy was both Lurch and Thing?"

"This could be wrong, but I doubt there are a lot of disembodied hands looking for work in Hollywood. So they found a non-disembodied one they could work with."

Kirby, fully lost in thought by this point lets slip, "I have a tattoo of Lurch and Thing on my leg."

"Really? Can I see?" The idea of seeing a tattoo is far too exciting to think about the undertones of asking her to show off skin, like he's a horny Amish boy.

Kirby snaps back to attention, "what, noo... you wouldn't want to see it, trust me."

"Why not? Did it not turn out well?'

"No, it's fine, it's just, personal y'know..."

His cheeks go bright red. "Oh jeez, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to intrude like that..."

"No, it's fine, I just," she pauses for a moment, "I don't like talking about my past, there's a lot of things I don't think I've processed properly."

"I understand. I'll let it go, I'm sorry."

"No, Helms wait," without thinking she grabs his arm and almost pulls him into her, "I need..." she searches for the right words, "I need someone like you in my life."

He's looking up at her, all pretences of being suave out the window and heart beating a mile a minute. "I want to be that person in your life." He murmurs softly.

Without thinking Kirby picks him up into a tight hug, then her brain snaps back into the moment and she drops him, not hard enough to hurt but hard enough to make him fall on his ass.

"This may just be because I haven't been involved in a while, but I'm getting mixed signals." He chuckles, pushing up to his feet.

"Sorry, I just, well, uh, long story short the last time I let someone get close to me, it didn't end well, I used to work in Japan. I trained under Giant Baba, and one of his other students got super close with me and they, they found out that André raised me and accused me of living off his money."

"Good thing I already know that then, isn't it?"

"Every one thinks I'm his actual daughter, don't they?"

"I'm sure some people do, but besides the name and the height, there's not much family resemblance. They just need to think logically a bit."

"André adopted me, for the longest time I had figured that my parents didn't want me, I found out they died when I was thirteen, they died when I was eight and no one told me until I was thirteen." Kirby breathes out a deep sigh, unsure of herself.

"Can... can I try that hug again?" He asks softly. "I think you could use one."

"I'll try not to squish ya." Kirby pulls him into another hug, a softer hug, keeping his feet on the ground.

He squeezes her gently, trying his best to offer some kind of respite from all of life.

"You're right, I needed that, now, come 'ere," Kirby hoists him over her shoulder, holding him in place as she continues to walk through the rest of the park.

It takes so much of his concentration to not blurt out that he's in love with every step. She's just so perfect, he can't help it.

"While I have you, Helms, Kane said a while back that you had something you needed to tell me."

"And I guess there's no real way to avoid saying it, is there?" He asks, his heart pounding.

"You can try and squirm out of my grip but I've managed to keep X-Pac on my shoulder for an hour so I doubt you'll get anywhere."

"Damn, an hour?" He pauses to consider. "You can keep a hold on me so I don't run, but I'd rather tell you to your face instead of over your shoulder."

"Alright Helms," She places his feet on the ground and slides her hands into her jacket pockets, "Talk, short stack."

"Well, firstly, I told Kane not to say anything, and I didn't intend to say this just yet, so he's a dick for putting me in this position unless it goes well..." he takes a deep breath and looks up into her eyes. "I love you."

Kirby cocks an eyebrow, partially confused and partially not believing him, "You're joking right, you're kidding me," she pauses for a moment before whispering, mostly to herself, "please say you aren't kidding."

"I'm not kidding. Wouldn't kid about something like this."

"Oh thank the fucking lord." Kirby states, a bit too loudly, quickly covering her mouth with a hand in embarrassment.

"That is... not the reaction I expected, but I'm not complaining." He smiled quietly.

"Sorry, I just … I kinda assumed no one would ever ask me out, or genuinely mean what they say when they flirt with me. Being a giantess has its disadvantages, mostly with dating."

"Same thing with being short. Especially in a business like this. You get overlooked, pretty literally."

"You're not that short, Helms, six-foot even … is actually quite short to Vince McMahon, isn't it." Kirby rubs the back of her neck, unsure, moving her hand away from her mouth shows the fact she's blushing a rosy pink

Helms's heart flutters as he sees the light pink across her cheeks. "The inches add up." He shrugs, trying to keep from grinning or moving too fast and scaring her. "But it's okay. I'm used to it."

"You're quite handsome, for a goofball." Kirby notes, twirling her short ponytail in-between her fingers.

"And you're really pretty. I've thought so since I met you."

"I'm not pretty, I'm …" she falls silent, not wanting to let her feelings about herself be known.

"Yeah, you are. If you can think I'm handsome, you can know that you're beautiful."

"You honestly like me, Helms. Tattoos and all, pale skin, super tall. You like all of this." She gestures to the entirety of herself.

"Yeah, I really do. I've been trying for months to get the gumption to say so, but I love you and I don't care who knows it anymore."

"Then surely you won't mind if I do, this." Kirby pulls Helms into a kiss, leaning down to kiss him.

He squeaks quietly before melting against her slowly, achieving absolute euphoria.

Kirby pulls away for breath, sweeping her hair out of her face with her hand.

With her lips a little pink and swollen in the moonlight, she looks like some kind of angel.

Helms is absolutely stupefied he just got to kiss the woman of his dreams. "Please say that kiss was as good for you as it was for me because if it wasn't and you didn't like it, you may as well piledrive me on this concrete." He whispers.

"For as short as that moment was, it was perfect." She whispers back.

"Doesn't have to be short. We can have all the time we want."

"I'm not sure I know what you mean, short stack."

"I mean I want to kiss you a lot. Many times for very long amounts of time."

"Oh really?" Kirby bites her lip, slightly more eager to see what Helms can do.

"If you want to, that is."

"Oh trust me, I want to"

"Are you still rooming with Show tonight?"

"Not tonight, I have my own room for once."

"Not because I'm propositioning, but because a public park isn't a great place for a make out, wanna this to your room?"

"Sure, I'm almost certain that no one will see us if we go now."

"Gonna carry me again, or can I race you there?"

"How fast can you be, Green Lantern?" Kirby scoffs.

"I may be small, but I'm speedy."

"I have longer legs than you, I could probably walk back there faster than you can run." Kirby jokes.

"Guess we'll find out, won't we?"

"Oh, you're on."

Helms goes on his tiptoes to kiss her cheek before he takes off at a dead sprint.

"You cheeky little green idiot." Kirby strolls back to the hotel, taking several shortcuts and texting Show to let her in the back entrance to the building.

When he made it up to her room, Helms was panting and almost looking disappointed to see her standing in the doorway, cool as a cucumber. "How... the FUCK... did you beat me here??"

"Know the city like the back of my hand, Helms, used to travel with André as a kid."

"Well, I guess I'm the goat on this one." He pants softly, trying to not look as out-of-breath as he feels.

"Do you want to make out or not," Kirby asks, opening the door and sliding her satchel bag off her shoulder and onto the floor.

"So badly." He's practically giddy as the door shuts behind them.

Kirby backs him against the door, kissing him rather passionately.

#Kirby Roussimoff #Shane Hurricane Helms #Blacklight Bandit #Orange and green - the perfect team #Superheroes with Secrets

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