#surprisingly we've barely lost anything this way

[syn4k]

ao3:

me, who has been writing directly into the site for the past three years and hasn't kept backups of any of my drafts ANYWHERE:

did someone say something?

[anantaru]

GENSHIN + NUT IN ME NOVEMBER

— ꒰ synopsis ꒱ — who cares about NNN? your boyfriend and you certainly don't!

— ꒰ including ꒱ — neuvillette, scaramouche, childe, wriothesley

— ꒰ warnings ꒱ — fem! reader, breeding kink, slight size kink, unprotected sex, very messy & lots of cum, they're a little mean & tease a lot, pussy drunk genshin men

— ꒰ NEUVILLETTE ꒱

from the current appearances, neuvillette could hardly indulge in the magnificent view emitting from underneath his large body— and the handsome man was just about to open his mouth, precisely to spell out those candid words and praises into your ears when you're prompt in your own gentle ministrations by wrapping both arms around his neck to shush him before a mere word could slip, tickling the fine hair on the back of his head.

"it seems— ugh, like we've lost," neuvillette was barely capable to say anything out loud without in his words resulting in crumbling apart when you squeeze around him tighter, his eyes nearly rolling into the back of his head in pleasure at the way you were gripping him, your lungs feeling like they stretch out on each new whimper, whine and writhe as he fucks you in sheer desperation.

a faint outline of a groan exudes from the both of you when he bottoms into you again— while now, what was slow at first, meaning just gentle and slow thrusts in and out of you every so softly to build up the fizzing pleasure on your wet insides, soon manifested into something else, the rapid shoves making your things tense tight, your used cunt merging into his stiffened erection as you shake beneath him.

your face squeezes into that of deep pleasure, your nose puckered around the bridge and brows knitted together when your climax was right around the corner to trigger something unnamable in your stomach, a sinking fieriness that almost appeared to be as strong as to numb the salacious thrusts and grinds that were becoming messier, so greedy and harder to tame.

you hear it, those lewd noises, and your body reacts to them as well, a quivering murmur to his tone as soft tremors of neuvillette's groans exhale from his mouth and slip right into your searing kiss— because you see now, you're in control of his mind, and at this rate you're practically begging him to go harder on your cunt with each smack of his hips convulsing on your core when he slants back into you to press his delicate lips against yours, pushing his tongue in between as your slick smears along the thin skin of his shaft, your walls throbbing and turning with each new wave of unforgiving thrusts of his hips splitting you in half.

— ꒰ SCARAMOUCHE ꒱

"why did you even believe i would consider going without this for a whole month?"

oh, who would've thought? but this happened to be way easier for scaramouche, more delicious and empowering than any reluctance or guilt when the both of you haven't even gotten through one day of november without practically being all over each other— your hips arching into his strong thrusts forward, fingers curling into the disheveled bed sheets as your soft insides clench up around his rigid erection. 

"i thought it'll be— fuck, it'll be fun!" you attempt to reason with your boyfriend, although sweetly smirking against his lips demanding entry into your mouth as you began to pepper searing kisses on them, your tongue teasing into his warmth to lap across his wet muscle, your skin sticking against his own as his hips roll back and forth your clenching hole, breaking through your thighs squeezing together with fierce need.

scaramouche breaks the kiss at once, "look at me," he demands, visibly swallowing before taking a deep breath, his voice surprisingly low, a pinch of a rasp tottering on top of your lips as his tone was evidently wrapped inside the limit of a domineering cocoon fully consisting of vicious pleasure.

"you know that's no fun," you tremble as you shake under his looming body, his hips pressing in deep, in fact, so deep that you were now full of him, crowded as your pussy made his pace stutter, your hole overflowing with his throbbing cock and altering the steady stream of pleasure running through your veins, his grin only widening at the feeling of how much you liked the way he fucked you so desperately.

"but this is fun, wouldn't you agree?" scaramouche made sure to convey each of his words with a new, even stronger, sharp thrust into your warm hole as his balls tighten against you, the heaviness of his length pressing through your solid ring pulls your body in a tremble, your face now buried in the curve of his neck as you climax with a loud cry of his name, the sudden compression of your pussy making it harder for him to contain himself as he cums hard as well, spilling hot white ropes of sticky cum deep inside your pulsing spots that the heaviness of him made you wince softly.

"this— oh this feel so good." kuni mumbles against your lips with a large smirk manifesting on his handsome features, grunting as he continues to pound sloppily into you, "you feel so good," his hips treasuring how your cunt continuously throbbed around his shaft as you close your eyes due to exhaustion, breathing out heavily at the same time, "all mine."

— ꒰ CHILDE ꒱

"ajax, i don't— ahh, think that's what no nut november is about,"

you really do not have to tell childe— and the salacious thoughts he had about breaking the little bet between you was clinging on to his brain ever so vividly, until he simply could not resist himself and split your thighs underneath him the second he stepped home, pressing his slender fingers into the flesh of your ass as he moves you back and forth on his length, the hot breathes he expelled going hand in hand with each new thrust controlling your frame, his heaves fanning against your skin as his delicious traces invade your psyche and cloud your mind.

"you wouldn't say?" there was a curve in his voice, one that made his sentence sound all the more mischievous and deadly as childe clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth.

you know you're done for when his hips suddenly pick up on pace, as if he wanted, no, needed to show you that he was very much aware that he was breaking the rules of such silly little bet, every massive shove amplified by the enduring limbs in his muscular frame, your inflamed pussy squelches loudly with the wet smacks of his hips giving you no time to rest.

you whimper, if you can even call it that because in truth, it was a desperate attempt of a pathetic little sob, your glasslike eyes beclouded with deep-rooted bliss— and ugh, the harbinger was just absolutely intoxicating, it's totally unfair! and you were reacting just the way he wanted you to as you found yourself to indulge in his maddening fragrance penetrating your tottering skin, your nose buried into his neck as you inhale it deeper, sneakily teasing your fingers into his silken hair.

it only needed a couple more thrusts before you unravel underneath his looming shade at the same time as the tightened bubble in childe's stomach snapped in two, thick and heavy whites causing havoc inside of your pussy when you feel his tongue push into your mouth as to drink in your filthy moans, swallow the desperate attempts to signalize just how fucking good he felt when he pushes his load all into your little cunt to keep it there, the delicious pleasure on your lower area weighing you down the bed as you're nothing but a tremble left, your hole tensing every so often before he pulls out to watch the sweet mess he made on you.

— ꒰ WRIOTHESLEY ꒱

a flavorful multitude of skilled touches deeply dwell inside of your swelling sensitivity— with one trace in particular that sought out to reach the deepest parts of your responsive nerves.

wriothesley turns the air in the room heavy within the period of a single heart beat as he presses into your hole, the lewd squelches of wetness slapping against each other overcrowding the room as he fucks you with his weighty cock— a thin sparkle of sweat persisting over his chiseled chest as you squeeze roughly at his shaft, sending him deeper into you.

but wriothesley needed more, he had to make it somehow messier than it already was— because careful now and listen close, but the duke had found your overly irritating talk about being so dear confident about going a whole fucking month without doing this a little bit insulting, in fact, have you already forgotten what kind of emotions he was able to awake within you with nothing but his cock fucking you filthily until your thighs tremble on either side of him?

now, your bodies were sticked up together, the scent of lewd sex hanging in the air and mixed with the glazing scent of cologne and sweaty musk enticing the duke to fuck you harder, his once precise thrusts developing into sloppy and desperate movements, your skin practically on fire when he races through your walls with each squeeze of your cunt knocking the air from his lungs.

your fingers slide through his matted hair, your body lost between the pressure of his thick shaft dragging along your sensitivity as your arousal smeared all over his base, drenching the sheets below as he feels his balls tighten, he's so close, his body suddenly even heavier against your own as he slants himself forward, your erected nipples rubbing across his chiseled chest when he pins you down at once, leaning into you until merely a hairbreadth away.

"isn't this so much better, hm?"

©2023 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify

[toastedclownery]

Okay I'm gonna be a bit crazy on the main tag and share a theory

I think Beebs tried applying for Civil service but couldn't because of his... History

I think it went like this

He was studying/training for it and he was about to be accepted

Something... Tragic happened. The "accident" where he lost his limbs? That might or might not have been his fault. But he was charged for it

He was no longer able to apply because he has a criminal record now?

We've seen a couple of times that he's ready and prone to help and protect people, it's just something in his nature

Also he's very quick to adapting to other species' customs or societies, or their biology. Like being respectful to Punti, and being surprisingly chill when he was communicating with the Agari's phantom.

It would explain the speech he gave before attacking Us, it'd be something that he learned from his training

Maybe his glove which is a similar blue to Killix' uniform and his multi-tool?

Now I don't have evidence for this last point but it's giving me vibes okay. I think he might have been banished from his home planet for what happened in the accident, too.

We barely know anything about Walrinian culture, but I figure their tusks are important. At least with real walruses, tusks are a form of status. I think him removing his tusks (or possibly having them removed against his will?) could be a sign of dishonor.

Or maybe he just lost them in the accident and he just filed them down. But either way, the Symbolism is still there. He no longer has a connection with his home planet and culture.

Beebs strikes me as someone who knows what it's like to lose it all, and he really doesn't want it to happen again, so he plays it very safe with everything he does. Like for example how he wants to slowly build up on the Monkey Wrench company

And I'm willing to say he's taking this approach with Shrike's friendship too.

He's the opposite to Shrike, he dislikes risk. I think it was this accident or... Whatever happened that shaped him into what he's like today. And it would make this conversation with Us make more sense.

If all of this is right (or close), that means he's lost so much. The majority of his limbs, the direction he was going to take with his life as a civil servant, possibly the link to his family and his culture. All of this happening so quickly might have motivated him to...

Yeah.

[masked-watcher]

Ghost x Soap mission aftermath. Confessions ensue. 1.3k of idiots in love. Fluff, no smut.

The room was only dimly lit. Soap sat side by side with Ghost. Too close into the bigger mans personal space, as always. Their fatigue and battle worn faces illuminated by the soft glow of the last rays of sunshine peering through the blinds. The tension in the air was palpable.

Soap sighed, rubbing his temples. "That was a close one, eh? I thought we were done for back there." Ghost nodded slowly, his mask hiding any hint of emotion. "Yeah." It was a simple answer. What Johnny didn't know though was how much he actually beat himself up for what happened. It would have been his fault if anything happened to his sergeant. Just because his mind was occupied with other thoughts than the mission. With him.

Soap turned to face him, his eyes narrowing with concern. "Y'know you can talk to me, aye? We've been through hell together, and I can see something's eating at ye. And it's not just the mission."

Ghosts gaze shifted, his masked face giving away nothing. "Soap, you don't understand. There are things... I can't share. Burdens I have to carry alone."

The younger mans energetic demeanor faded, replaced by a seriousness that surprised even him. "You don't have to carry them alone, LT. We're a team. I thought we were past keeping secrets from each other."

A heavy silence hung in the air before Ghost finally sighed, his broad shoulders slumping ever so slightly. With a slow and deliberate movement, he reached up and pulled at his mask. As it fell away together with the balaclava, revealing his features and scars decorating them, Soaps breath got caught in his throat.

"Simon…" Soap whispered, his voice barely audible. He couldn't tear his gaze away from his face, awestruck by the vulnerability he saw for the first time.

Ghosts voice was low and rough, tinged with a mix of anxiety and relief. "I've worn this mask for so long, Johnny. It's become a part of me, a shield against the world. But you... you've always managed to slip past it."

Soaps heart raced as he met the tired gaze, his own feelings laid bare. "Simon, I… Never realized how much I've wanted to see yer face, to know the real you. I-I mean…" He stumbled a little over his words. "I accept you with every part and side you have! I am happy about every new piece you let me discover. 's just…"

The tall mans lips twitched into the faintest hint of a smile. "You've always seen through me, haven't you?"

Johnny reached out, his fingers trembling as they brushed against Simons cheek. Over one of the many scars. "Yeah, and what I see is someone incredibly strong, someone who's been there for me in ways I can't even describe."

Simons hand covered Soaps. His touch surprisingly gentle. "Johnny, there's something else I need to tell you. Something I've been afraid to admit. But after today I'm not sure how much time we still have left like this."

Johnnys eyes searched Ghosts. Simons. His heart pounding in anticipation. "What is it?"

Ghost took a deep breath, his voice steady despite the vulnerability he was revealing. "I care about you more than I should. More than I thought I could. More than a lieutenant is supposed to about a sergeant."

Soaps gaze softened, his own hand squeezing Ghosts. "I care about you too, Simon."

"Johnny," His voice was barely above a whisper, "there's something you need to understand. I've spent years building walls, keeping people at arm's length, because I didn't want anyone to see my weaknesses. I couldn't let anyone in because they're all leaving. I've lost them all before and I can't do it again. I can't."

The younger mans heart ached at the fear he saw in those deep, dark eyes. "Simon, you don't have to be strong all the time. I've seen your strength and I've seen you being hurt too. You're allowed to lean on someone. If anyone then it should be you who's being taken care of for once."

Ghosts jaw tightened, a battle waging within him. "It's not that simple, Johnny. What if I let you in, let myself be vulnerable and then I can't protect you when you need me most?"

Soaps voice was gentle yet determined. "Protecting me doesn't mean you have to hide who you are. I want to know you, all of you, even the parts you consider ugly or being weaknesses."

"And what if I can't give you what you deserve? What if I'm not enough for you?"

Slowly but surely the scots voice was laced with frustration. "Do you think so little of me that you believe I'd walk away just because things get tough? I want you. All of you. Flaws and everything."

A tense silence followed, each word echoing in the small room. Brown eyes searched Soaps face, his defenses slowly crumbling. "You have no idea how much I've wanted to hear you say that." His voice had a rasp to it. Keeping it low.

Soap reached out, his fingers tracing Simons jawline with a tenderness that sent shivers down his spine. "Then let me say it again. I want you. Ghost or Simon. I'm not going anywhere."

"I don't know if I can be what you deserve. I'm scared I'll let you down. I'm not good with feelings. I'm not a good person. I'm difficult."

"Love isn't about being perfect. 's about being there for each other, even when things get messy. And I'm pretty sure we've proven countless times that we got each others back on and off the field."

The older mans heart felt like it was on the edge of a precipice, the ground shifting beneath him. Slowly, he reached out, his hand finding Soaps. "I want to be with you, Johnny. I'm just... terrified."

The smile he received was tender, the grip on his hand reassuring. "We'll be terrified together then."

As their eyes locked, a tension that had been building for years finally snapped. In that charged moment, Simons hand moved, his fingers gentle yet deliberate as they cupped Soaps cheek. It was a touch that held years of suppressed feelings, a touch that shattered the walls Ghost had built around himself. Johnny leaned into the touch, his eyes closing as he savored the warmth of the hand against his skin.

Their foreheads touched, the space between them filled with an electric energy that defied words. A rough thumb brushed against the corner of Soaps lips, a tender gesture that spoke volumes. And then their lips met.

The kiss started hesitantly, a delicate exploration of the unknown. The bigger mans lips were soft against Soaps, a stark contrast to the hardened exterior he had always projected. It was a kiss that held layers of meaning. A silent confession of the love they had both denied and unspoken feelings that had simmered beneath the surface for far too long.

As the kiss deepened, the world around them faded into insignificance. Simons other hand found its place on Johnnys waist, pulling him closer as their bodies moved in sync with the rhythm of their heartbeats. Careful fingers tangled in the hair at the nape of Ghosts neck, his touch sending shivers down his spine.

The kiss was a dance of emotions. A mixture of longing, fear, and a burning desire to bridge the gap that had kept them apart. Ghosts walls crumbled, his vulnerability laid bare as he poured his feelings into the kiss. Letting Simon have this moment. The scots heart raced. Every touch, every sigh was a testament to the unspoken connection they had shared for so long.

When they finally pulled away, their breaths were ragged, their eyes locked in a gaze that held a newfound depth. Both men wore shy smiles, a new understanding passing between them. "I'm scared, Johnny. Scared of losing you, scared of what this could mean."

Soaps fingers intertwined with Ghosts. "We'll face whatever comes together, just like we always have. And when it's just us… No more masks, no more secrets."

[poke-me-with-a-stick]

Chapter 23 of 'Artificial Wingman!'

For the full story on AO3, click here!

Enjoy!

---

Danny didn't know what he expected to happen after his sister and Robin's older brother left, but being locked in the most intense staring contest of his (after)life was not on the list. Yet that was where he found himself, sitting on Harley's beaten up couch with a surprisingly soft throw blanket draped over his shoulders, his glacial blue eyes locked with the Silvery blue of Robin's sister.

She was completely silent as she watched him, and Danny couldn't shake the feeling of being analyzed. Every twitch, every odd hitch in his already slow breathing, seemed like it had been noticed and filed away in some sort of filing cabinet in her head. Yet, strangely, the teen didn't feel threatened. Yeah, her intense attention was a bit uncomfortable, but it didn't feel malicious at all. Unlike Vlad or his parents, who examined every step he took and every move he made like he was some impossible enigma they were trying to dissect, her attention felt more... curious than anything else. That was probably the only thing that kept Danny from turning invisible.

"Soooo," He drawled, drawing the word out as finally broke eye contact, turning to look at a point just over her shoulder. There was an odd spot on the wall, a patch that looked like water damage. "I, um. I don't think we've been properly introduced to each other." Blinking, he tore his eyes away from the spot on the wall, but still couldn't bring himself to meet her probing gaze a second time. That bit of hair that hung just shy of her eyebrow was a good spot to look, though. It felt less like he was talking to the wall, at least. 'Ancients, why do I feel so nervous? She's just a person!' The teen scolded himself mentally. "I'm Danny."

Across from him, the girl chuckled. "Hello. I'm Cass." She signed to him, Spelling out her name before using a little gesture and pointing to herself. "It's nice to meet you finally, face to face." Face to face? What did she mean- Oh, right. She was at the Grocery Store, that one day he and Robin had been out hunting down the ingredients for the cure. The cure, which was currently sitting in his bag, resting just a few feet away on the coffee table.

Before his thoughts could spiral down that path, Cass tapped on the table infront of him. Blinking, he shot her bashful smirk, his face flushing slightly in embarrassment. "Sorry, got lost in though for a minute." He apologized.

She merely smiled back, signing a quick, "its alright," back at him. When the teen lapsed back into silence, she made a little humming noise before signing a question. "Do you have any hobbies?"

"Uhh... I know a lot about space?" He offered hesitantly, not quite sure what she was wanting. Obviously she was trying to make small talk, but the halfa didn't know she wanted to hear more about him, or if she was attempting to turn it into a conversation about her interests. Or maybe he was just overthinking it, his brain running twice as fast as it usually did, now that it had regained most of its normal function from whatever drug was in his system.

'Yeah, I'm definitely overthinking it.' The teen just barely avoided grimacing at his internal monologue.

"Oh, yes. Robin told us about that." Cass signed to him, pulling him from his thoughts again. "He sent me a picture from the Planetarium."

"Huh?" Danny voiced dumbly, his mind going blank for a second as she pulled up a picture on her phone. The image was a bit distorted, a green and blue film warring on the screen. But he could clearly make out the image underneath all the odd coloring. An image of himself, eyes dilated and hair floating in an odd way, as if it was caught in a current. The most obvious thing in the picture however, was clearly glowing frecles that adorned his face, casting an eerie blue and green glow over his cheeks and chin, making the way his eyes reflected the flash all the more noticable.

Danny could feel the blood rushing to his face as he covered his reddening cheeks with his palms. Closing his eyes, he groaned lowley to himself, ignoring the near silent chuckles that spilled from Cass. "I didn't know he took a picture. I didn't even see him take out his phone!" he whined, groaning again as Cass's laughter grew slightly louder.

When he finally brought his hands down, she smiled apologetically at him. "Don't feel bad," she told him. "Robin is really good at doing things stealthily."

Danny gave her a ruthful grin, nodding. "That makes sense, what with the vigilante thing." Sighing, he leaned back into the couch, tugging the blanket wrapped around him until it rested comfortably over his legs. "I can be pretty stealthy too, but that's mainly because of..." he trailed off, just realising that maybe it wasn't the best idea to go around boasting about being half ghost.

"Powers?" Cass signed, finishing his sentence for him. He nodded, figuring it was a bit to late to censor himself now. She made an "ah," noise, mimicking zipping her lips.

"Thanks," he murmured, appreciating her gesture. They both slipped back into silence, though it wasn't as awkward as before. The peaceful quiet was broken by the shattering of some ceramic object, followed by a disappointed moan. They both looked towards the source of the noise to see Robin stalk out of the kitchen with a plate of fruits, glaring at the blond that followed him.

"That was one of my favorite plates!" She pouted, looking mournfully at the few shards she carried with her.

"If you cared for it so much, then perhaps you shouldn't have thrown it." Robin retorted, settling down in his seat next to Danny. The teen carefully set the place down on the table infront of the teen, gesturing towards it when he only gazed at the bunch of grapes and fruit slices curiously. "Eat. You are far too skinny and light."

Danny huffed at the boy, still too tired to argue much, before popping one of the grapes into his mouth. "My weight didn't seem such an issue before. What changed?" He asked, letting his head drop until it rested just above Robin's shoulder.

"What changed was waking up with your boney elbow pressed into my stomach." The teen reached up and pulled Danny's head down the rest of the way. "I could tell you were a bit underweight before, when I carried you, but your clothing has been a bit.... baggy, up until this point, so I had no idea just how thin you actually were."

Noticing that Danny had stopped eating, Robin grabbed an apple slice from the plate and held it to he mouth, not bothering to speak until Danny bit into it. "As long as you are in my care, I intend to feed you as much as possible. Pennyworth would be disappointed in me otherwise." The teen sniffed, grabbing another grape and handing it to the ravenette.

Danny snorted, chewing the fruit and swallowing before he attempted to respond. "I've always been on the skinneir side, so it's not that big of a deal, y'know?" He said in an attempt to placate the teen.

It didn't work, if the frown on Robin's face was anything to go by. "Well," he tilted his head in an almost challenging manner, "I suppose that is just something that we will have to remedy." He didn't give Danny a chance to respond, practically shoving another apple slice into Danny's mouth when he went to protest. He huffed at the teen, chewing the slice obediently.

Beside them, Cass let out a giggle. Danny merely huffed again, deciding to focus on the fruit instead of acknowledging her amusement. Robin didn't appear bothered by her laughter, instead humming pleasantly as he picked another slice up from the plate, a pear this time.

Part of Danny felt annoyed at being hand fed like this, but another part practically purred at the attention and care the teen was giving him. The halfa ignored them both, still not all there mentally at the moment. It most certianly wasn't because he couldn't tell if it was his ghost half or his human half that yearned for the moment to never stop. Not at all.

Sadly for whichever half that was, the moment seemed to end once Danny had cleared the plate, only leaving behind the sticky residue from the cut fruits on it's ceramic surface. Having watched him (and helped him) finish off the plate, Robin shot him a slightly smug yet oddly warm smile as he stood to take the plate back the the kitchen. Once again leaving him alone with Cass.

The woman snickered silently as Danny shifted, obviously sensing his embarrassment with what had just occured. Before he could say anything, (what was he supposed to say after that?), Cass was signing at him again. "You two are adorable together," her grin widened as Danny felt blood flood his face. Groaning, the halfa let his head fall back against the couch, closing his eyes, as if that would help him escape the situation.

'Jazz, stop flirting with the Hood guy and get over here,' the teen desperatly thought. 'I don't know how much more teasing and coddling I can take.' Knowing his sister, the teen knew he would learn what his tollerance level for embarrassment would be. And after all his humiliation at school, he knew that it would be a while before they hit the bar.

- - -

By the time Jazz finally pulled up in the Speeder, Danny was contemplating just letting his intangibility wash over him. The only thing that stopped him from actually doing it was the knowledge that Jazz would never let him live it down. And that she would definalty tell Sam and Tucker. So it was safe to say he was very, very happy to hear the familiar hum and rumble of the interdiminsional hover car.

Honestly, it wasn't that bad, all things considered. The light ribbing that he got from Cass and Harley was embarrassing for sure, but it was all lighthearted. Much different from the snide remarks and mocking tones of the A-listers. It was nice, in a way, more like the way he and his friends picked on each other.

That didn't make him any less excited when he heard the firm, heavy knock on the front door before Jazz strides in, followed closely by a raven haired man with a white streak through his hair. Danny couldn't help but stare at him, tilting his head as a questioning chrip slipped from him.

Three things happened at that moment. Harley and Cass looked at him, both a bit confused and surprised at the most definatly not normal noise he made. Damian glanced between him and the man, seemingly unsure of what to say. Jazz, the most liminal person in the room, opened her mouth, probably to answer his unvoiced question. And, perhaps the most surprising of all, the man seemed to freeze in place.

Danny watched the man's eyes widened, taking on a slightly green tint as he met the teen's gaze. "What-" before Danny could ask the man anything, he seemed to swallow hard, his throat working as if there was a physical blockage. A croaking, whistle-like sound resounded from him, catching the attention of everyone else in the room. The man's face scrunched slightly, almost like he didnt' know what he was doing. Coughing a bit, he cleared his throat, and... Chrrup?

Danny blinked. That was... not what he was expecting. He chirped back, not really sure what else to do in this situation. The man mimicked his chirp, the dazed look slowly leaving his eyes and being replaced by a look of confusion. "What the fuck was that?" He asked, his voice shaking slightly.

Danny didn't answer him, instead turning his gaze to his sister. "How the heck did you find a liminal in less than two hours?" He asked, half exasperated and half dumbfounded.

Jazz returned his look of confusion with one of her own. "You couldn't tell he was liminal?" She asked, not bothering to answer his question.

"What the hell is a liminal anyways?" Harley piped up, her gaze switching between the three ghost-adjacent people in the room.

It was Robin who answered her. "I would assume that a liminal is someone more in tune with the dead than a normal person." He turned to look at Danny. "Is that right?"

"Uh, yeah. Basically, a liminal is a person that has been around ambient ectoplasm enough for it to change them. Usually, it makes them a bit more ghost like, whether it be physical changes like fangs or eyeshine, or the development of weak ghost powers like intangibility or enhanced empathy." Danny turned away from his staring contest with his sister to look at Robin as he explained. "My sister and my friends are a bit more liminal than others, and it's not exactly rare to meet someone who is at least a little liminal." He turned to the man once more, this time stretching his senses out.

Almost immediately the teen was assaulted by the bitter taste of rage. His face contorted at the unpleasant acidic flavor it left behind. Under the thick layer of rage, there was the slightly tangy taste of confusion, along with the slight lemon-like taste of fear. He was about to pull back when another taste hit him. The teen had to physically restrain himslef from full body flinching away from the man at the soured-milk and rot that overpowered everything else.

"Jeeze!" Danny smacked him lips, trying to get the perceived taste out of his mouth. "What cesspool have you been hanging around?" He asked the man.

"Danny!" He sister scolded, reaching over to cuff his head. He ducked, her fingers barley brushing his unruly hair.

"What?" He asked, glaring at her childishly.

"You can't just ask people that! Its rude!" She chided, returning his glare with one of her own.

"Trust me, Jazz. If you could sense what I just sensed, you would be asking the same question." He leaned away from her, just in case she tried to cuff him again. "Whatever ecto he was exposed to is bad. Like, not changing the filter in forty years bad. Dude needs a spa day badly." He shot the man another glance with a low, "No offense," before meeting his sister's stare again.

"None... taken?" He looked between the siblings, trying to digest the info given. "Wait, so I'm a liminal-whatever, what does that even mean? And what the heck is ectoplasm?" He turned to Robin, looking incredibly lost.

"I mean, I just explained what Liminals are. It just means you've been hanging out around death-ooze for long enough to get some freaky ghost abilities, but without the being dead part." Danny broke off his staring contest finally, giving the man his full attention. "And ectoplasm is a green, glowy, kinda radioactive substance that comes from the afterlife. It can leak into the mortal realm sometimes through natural portals, but it usually gets absorbed pretty fast. Whatever you've been hanging around is a prime example of why chores are so important in my house. Congealed ectoplasm left out to sit, or mixed with anything besides fresh ecto is not the safest thing. Especially for mortals. Even in ghosts, it can have some really adverse reactions. Wouldn't surprise me if you're experiencing some of the side effects of it."

The room fell silent after that, half of the room thinking about how eerily close that description was to the Lazerus Waters. Though, it would explain some things, if it was true.

Everyone was startled out of their thoughts by Jazz clapping loudly. "Okay! As fun as whatever that was, is. I believe we have more important things to be doing?" She gave everyone in the room a pointed look before turning back to her brother. "Danny, the Liminal guy is Jason. He said he has somewhere that we can hide out with the Speeder while you recover and work on the Portal gun."

"Sweet, really?" Danny looked over to the man, Jason, and went to smile before he paused. "Wait..." he narrowed his eyes at the man, eyeing him suspiciously. "How do we know he isn't some wacked out fruitloop? And what happened to that Red Hood guy you left with? Where did he go?"

Jason's face scrunched up at the fruitloop comment, a denial on his lips, but Jazz beat him to it. "Danny!" She scolded him again. "First off, he isn't some wacked out fruitloop, have a little faith in me. And second, are you seriously that dense?" Danny blinked at her, a small look of afrontment on his face that Robin fought not to laugh at.

"Hey! I'm not dense!" He protested.

She merely raised an eyebrow at him, sending a pointed glance at Jason before going back to him. "Do you really not know who this is?" She asked, amusement coloring her tone.

Danny turned his attention back to Jason, staring at him intently. Now that he was focusing on him, he did seem vaguely familiar. But he hasn't met people in this universe, so if Jazz expected him to know who Jason was, then he had to have met him one already, right? If that was the case, then the only people he has met here would be Robin's brothers. He wasnt Dick, too tall and buff, not to kention he would be sporting a bruise from that punch, so that would leave...

"Wait, Redhood?!?"

"About fuckin' time!"

---

(I know there are probably some Grammer and/or spelling mistakes, but it's okay because I tried my best!)

For the amazing person who made the prompt for this story, as well as the lovely people who follow along!

@halfblackwolfdemon @manapeer @xxwintrynightzxx @im-totally-not-an-alien-2 @blu-lilac @academicpurposes @secretdestinywerewolf @passivedecept @naluforever3 @postit-nope @spiteismymiddlename @2t-productions @plague-daisy @feet-achy @bubblecookies16 @thesapphiredragon13 @justwannabecat @magicalcollecter @adeniumdream @amuseofminds @lupagrim @readerkayden @dr-syko-pharm-4 @ladythugs @angelheartgamer @markthespot68 @kyrianclawraith @michikoy-yuki @servasvictoria02 @your-emo-nightmare @vala-dreams @scarlett-green-rose @t1dwarrior-of-earth @charlie-the-frogie @akikoyuii @mysticalcomputerdetective @roseuniverse999 @im-totally-not-an-alien @thefearfullone @weird-droplet-309 @jaytriesstuff @raventao @jacquelynwinchester @dragongoblet @tlise21 @longlivethefallen @the-archer-goddess @temple-of-jalebi @adepresseddwightsblogofjunk @plainly-colorful @the-legalHe-shipper @49saltpeppershakers @igotafewbadideas @tumbling-darkling @sparklygardenbouquet @sarcastic-yami @blueneko9314 @starscreamlover @liedboutmurder @do3y @roze-realm @some-mildly-happy-human @yinari-uchiha @azuera @chaoticmistake @altairsarts @kawaiikenna @heartsong18 @thetoyboxs @tricksovertreats @mnemovoid @lim4b3ans @horribly-lost-and-gay @keimiwolf @dryeraseslime @joey394

[blackjackkent]

Apparently everyone's been crushing on Hector and he had no idea.

He finds Wyll in camp late one night, presumably off rather in a corner away from the others...dancing.

Lithe movements - the first real sign Hector has scene of the nobleman's son he was before he became the Blade of Frontiers. There is some melody playing in his head that Hector cannot hear, because his movements are swift, rhythmic, eminently steady.

Then he spots Hector watching him, and the movements stutter to an abrupt halt.

"Oh! Sorry. I didn't see you standing there." He smiles sheepishly. "Lost in the steps, truth be told." A slight pause, and then he squares his shoulders as if coming to some internal decision. "I need them to be just right. I wouldn't want to fail my new partner."

Hector blinks. "A new partner?" he asks. "And who might that be?"

Wyll's smile deepens. "As luck would have it...he just arrived." He takes a step forward and extends a hand in Hector's direction. "May I have this dance?"

Oh boy. :P

Hector, as we've established, is bad at conversational navigation, and this feels like another scenario (like Gale offering to show him magic) where the implication goes over his head a little bit. His friend wants to dance, and that's fine. Gods know they could use anything that brings them a bit of happiness out here.

So he just looks sort of bemused. "Dance?" he says. "But there's no music."

Wyll gives him a steady, surprisingly intense look. "Our hearts can keep time."

The penny drops. Hector blinks. Oh. I see.

Wyll's timing here really could not be any worse, given that Hector has only just acknowledged to himself that he has feelings for Karlach. Poor guy. Hector would have danced with him (despite his own complete lack of skill in the area) if it were about just relaxing, brightening this dark mess of a situation...but even he can't quite miss the subtext at this point.

He likes Wyll and doesn't want to hurt him, but he can barely navigate his own feelings right now, out here in the real world, let alone other people's.

"I...think we should just call it a day," he says unsteadily.

Wyll's face falls sharply, and he lets go of Hector's hand and draws back a step. "Oh," he says, and Hector is surprised to see the depth of disappointment in his eyes. How long has Wyll been feeling this way?

He opens his mouth to speak, to...apologize, to try and understand what is going on in his friend's mind, but Wyll shakes his head hastily and backs away. "I mean - yes, of course. The sun only rests for so long."

He hesitates, tips his head forward slightly towards Hector's, then draws back again sharply and steps away towards his bedroll.

Hector watches him go and then runs a hand down his face wearily. Damn, he thinks.

He has very little experience with love. Beyond a few schoolboy crushes in his teenage years at the monastery, he has occupied himself with more cerebral things. So far his primary knowledge of the emotion lies in the bewildering swirl of feelings that is conjured up when he thinks of Karlach, the unending heat preventing him from touching her, the unspoken longing. And of course, Lae'zel's strange, violent expressions of desire that bewilder him more than they inspire him. And now that kicked-dog look of exhausted regret in Wyll's eyes as he backs away.

If this is what love is, he thinks sadly, it carries a sharp blade.

[smokeys-house]

Sorry for your loss, Smokey. It is always hard to lose someone close

thanks I appreciate that. yeah it's been real hard. I don't wanna talk alot about it here bc my blog is sposed to be a place for folks (including me) to escape to. I don't even usually like to talk about or reblog world events or anything on here.

I'm gonna say a few things about the situation under a cut, but I'll warn you it's really sad. Death tw I guess. It's also very personal but I need an outlet.

I'm serious when I warn that this is going to be a hard thing to read, and you don't have to read this. In fact I recommend you don't. I'll try to be succinct.

So basically my mom died. She wasn't super old, and she was mostly healthy in regards to that kind of thing. She had a lot of medical issues but none that would have taken her out this suddenly. I'm not strong enough to talk about what things may have happened, we don't really know yet either way until after they look at her a little longer.

I lost my dad when I was 8, and my extended family is mostly estranged. My support network is very thin, but for the most part I think we've got it handled for now. I don't want to get too personal, so I'm being a little vague. It's kinda just. Me and my siblings right now.

My mom's dogs are also very distressed, one of them is having seizure issues because getting him his medication on time is challenging since my mom handled that. Her other dog had troubles eating so she used to hand feed her, but now that she's not around to do it she won't eat. She's a bit older, so we're worried about her.

I'm also fairly young. I won't say how old I am but I'm in my 20s so I'm not really prepared for any of this. We have a lot of issues to sort out like phone plans, bills, her house, her car, and all her like. Special retirement and life plan stuff and what not. Dying costs a lot surprisingly, and the funeral costs alone are over $10,000 USD. That's not a typo nor a joke. Everything's been so impersonal and hard. Going through catalogues and discussing plans with the funeral home they talk about it like it's buying a used car.

Of course aside from the logistics side of things, like the bills and figuring out how to get the money together and how to be a fully sustainable and "got-my-shit-together" adult right out the gates, I'm also going through another death in the family. I've got very few people left. There are many things I wish I would've said or done or asked. I had a near complete breakdown, I'd go into details on things but honestly it's just. Really really sad even for someone else to just read. Even now I'm either barely functional or I'm in full repression mode. The dogs keep looking for her, it's incredibly heartbreaking. I keep "forgetting" what's happened and why I feel so weird and why certain people are here or why I can't do certain things.

When I lost my dad, I lost my ability to tell time and dates. That's also not a joke. The grief effected my entire life until this point. I'm intellectually and emotionally stunted for a number of reasons, that included. I have been diagnosed with PTSD from how things happened with my dad. I'm not a well adjusted adult. I've had so many setbacks and issues that I'm basically in my third childhood now. I'm worried as to what will happen to me mentally following this. I've never been very stable. I've got a lot of issues.

Baseline, I'm not well right now. Things are going to be very hard in the coming days. Idk what's going to happen with everything. Financially, I don't make much and my siblings don't make much either. We don't have a lot of time to come up with the money and there are a lot of other considerations to make. Emotionally is one thing, but I don't even know if I'm going to have a home or internet. I think I will. But it's hard to think about just now. I'm not sure if I'll be posting donation links bc it's a lot of personal IRL information but if I run out of options I'll post about it I'm sure.

It's taking a lot just to keep things kinda ordinary typing on here. In truth I want to say a lot. I want to say a great many things. There's nobody for me to say them to. There's so much. There's so much

[allaboutarrorin]

Journal entry #1 - The relapse

It's been a long time since I last dusted this off and wrote in it, since I last wrote it in with an intention of not tearing the page out and burning it right away anyway.

Life's been surprisingly kind to me the last couple of years, despite a couple of bumps in the road. It's given me a sense of what a normal life looks like, it's reminded me of a feeling of belonging. It's also reminded me of the feeling of what it's like to have a home.

I haven't been able to call any place home since my mother died and I left my childhood home with my old man and the Shrouds. There's been houses, sure. There's been people that I've cared for, there's been forms of love, and there's been community, and there's been places I've stayed at for long enough for it to be considered a home..

But the feeling's never been there. My heart's never been there, not truly.. never entirely.

Or the feeling of that I've deserved to be where I was.

And no matter where I've been or who I've been with, I've always felt the need to flee, sooner or later. That need has always been so strong I swear at times I can physically feel my bones being on fire, then the voices do the rest.

I now realise that it was never a place I was looking for, there was never land or a building. It was never a community or glory within my line of work. It was never about being the biggest or the baddest or to claim a place for myself in this world.

It's always been about her.

It doesn't matter anymore where I live, or how much I grow a community to be able to survive in this world, it doesn't matter what kind of reputation I've got or how much gold. All that matters is her, and the way that she gives me a feeling of home, of belonging, no matter where we are.

She makes me not want to flee anymore, and she soothes the urge in me to do so.

I never even thought that was possible.

Right now, however.. it's anything but a blessing. For I wish that I could find it in me to run like I used to, just so that I don't have to face the disappointment in her eyes. The heartache.

And her realisation of what a broken man she's chosen to marry.

I've been clean for five years. Clean enough, anyway. Cleaner then I've ever been as it's never lasted this long. It was never bound to last forever, however, I always knew that.

We had a pretty huge fight last night, about a bounty I've got on my head currently. It got really ugly, and I just lost it.. I barely even remember the walk from my house up until I grabbed onto the first guy I saw that reeked of dealer. Much less do I remember actually using.

But gods.. do I remember the relief.

The relief that I felt is what scares me the most, I expected there to be relief.. but I never expected it to be so good. And I know that I'll be wanting it again..

Lysannia wants nothing to do with me. Can't even look at me, she says.

I've always known that if I ever relapsed she wouldn't react well to it, I expected her to scream or hit me. Hell, I expected her to send me out face first along with all my stuff without hesitation. I expected her to throw her ring at me there and then before she'd tell me to fuck off.

But she did neither of those things, which feels even worse..

It was as if she saw me for who I am the first time clearly in ten years.

And that she hated what she saw. Much like I do.

Of her reaction to my relapse to judge from.. I'm conflicted whether to tell her that it was my smallest relapse yet, of all the years I've been an addict. Of all the times that I have relapsed in the past, in comparison, this was nothing. It was the least brutal one, atleast in every other aspect but emotionally..

Emotionally it's been the worst of them all.

Even if we've been married almost a decade, I'm really starting to realise that she knows little to nothing about my junkie ways really. And it's starting to worry me that she might not fully take it to heart of just how severe my using have been in the past.

I'm terrified of being right, as it could be a deal breaker for her..

And if it is, I *text have been repeatedly written and erased at the area with evident roughness, only leaving unreadable black smudges behind*

The older that I get.. the more I also realise that my old man might've been a monster taken straight out of a nightmare; but he was also right about a lot of things.

This life sucks the soul out of you, it blackens your heart and it turns you against the rest of the world. It portrays you as a monster, as a selfish cunt with a taste for blood and a longing for misery.

It also turns you against yourself by each and every time you surprise yourself by just how brutal and heartless you can really be, when the questions of what's wrong with you arise.

When you start to doubt that it's not the world that is the problem, but you.

The paranoia never leaves you, the need of constantly having to watch your own back never leaves you. Much like the constant inner battle of distrust against other people never really goes away. Even towards the people that you consider your family or friends.

But the sense of freedom is what always lures you back in, no matter how far away you run from it, it always finds you. Pulls you back in with promises that the pain is worth it, that all the heartbreak that you cause other people is worth it.

I didn't choose this life because I wanted to be a rebel, or because I wanted to act tough going against the word of the law. And I didn't choose this life because I enjoy constantly hurting the people that I love, or because I've got a urge to try and destroy myself.

I chose it for a choice to be the one calling the shots regarding my own life, to free myself of my father's chains and to find my own identity. Even if that meant being closer to him then ever.

Even if I did exactly as Arreth wanted by staying in his footsteps, by letting him break my mind, in some sick way by doing so I could finally see myself for what I was without him. Or at the very least for what I could become. I wasn't just good at whatever it was he chose to teach me because he simply didn't allow me to be anything less, but because I was actually really bloody good at it.

In the middle of all of his abuse, all his torture and all his manipulation and his lies, I found a sanctuary within my work. I discovered what control of my own life felt like for the first time ever, and that feeling got addictive to me. While I could never truly escape my old man, this feeling of control is what I think ultimately lead to my survival.

To how I managed to step out of his shadow and claim myself as my own man, to not just remain a mindless soldier whose sole purpose of existing was to continue my father's legacy by all means necessary.

It was when I realised just what I could do with that control that everything changed for me. Everything.

So even if it is a brutal and bloody life, even if it's more often then not cruel and unfair.. it's the life that I will always choose.

For this life is what gave me my freedom, it's what woke me up. And it's what gave me the guts to claim my life as my own, since it was taken from me the moment I entered this world.

Without having gotten this realisation, thanks to the life I was both forced to be in but that I ultimately chose to willingly stay in; I am fully convinced that I wouldn't have surived. Sooner or later I would've ended up in a situation leading up to my end, most definitely to save Arreth's ass.

There's no doubt in me that he would've gladly let me take the fall for him, had I stayed his perfect little soldier that bent to his every idea, will and need.

So I will always choose the life that saved mine. I will always choose freedom. I will always choose control.

What I won't do, is ever choose a life where I'll be a slave to another man again.

I will fight against that for as long as I breathe, I will fight until I go down, and even then I will still keep fighting. For that fight will always be worth however much pain this life causes me, because there's no worse pain then the loss of control.

The loss of yourself.

*Similar black smudges after text having been erased over and over is found for a second time on the page, below it no more text follows though, as if he was suddenly interrupted in his writing*

[giggly-squiggily]

Hey girly! Hope ur having a blessed day! I saw ur headcanon/drabble event and I wanted to get in on it, if u have the time that is.

Headcanon (more of a prompt lol): after the events and fall of the Ten-Ren tickle team, Sanemi and Giyu decide to team up (yay)! Surprisingly, they work very well together (since they were the Ten-Ren team's main targets), even catching Obani off guard. They then want to show off their teamwork to Tengen and Rengoku. However, those two aren't going down without a fight.

Hope this helps! Stay safe and stay blessed girly!

~~Send Me A Headcanon and I’ll write a dabble for it! ~~

Hey girly! It’s always a great day hearing from you! :D I hope your having a blessed day aswell! I love writing Ten-Ren anything, so this was an absolute blast! I hope you like it as much as I had fun writing it :D

“There they are…our ultimate test.” Sanemi spoke so softly he was almost unrecognizable. “Think you're up for the challenge?”

It had been a few weeks since the great Ten-Ren attack; and a few weeks since Giyu agreed to team up with the Wind Hashira. At first he didn’t think much of the offer- he figured Sanemi would forget and move on with his life.

To his surprise, Sanemi hadn’t forgotten, and the two had been planning. Giyu couldn’t help but be pleased. They worked surprisingly well together- both in training and randomly attacking the others. So well in fact they even managed a few sneaky tickles on Obanai.

 It nearly cost them their heads, but it was worth it.

“Of course I’m ready.” Giyu nodded, a small smile touching his lips. “Shall we?”

Before them Rengoku and Tengen sat, backs to them as they spoke on various topics. Completely at ease without a care in the world they seemed. Sanemi silently gestured for Giyu to follow, the two slowly making their way over.

“Iguro looked mighty mad today! I wonder what happened?” Tengen mused out loud, leaning back on his hands as he looked to the sky. “Maybe he fell out of his tree?”

“Maybe. Or perhaps be felt…ambushed?” Rengoku offered. The boys froze. “What, you two really thought you could sneak up on us?”

Everyone moved at once. Giyu could barely get out a squeak before Tengen had him flipped and trapped, fingers worming into his ribs. “Thehehehhehheheehengheheehhehhehehen! Wahhahahahahahait!” He cried, any will to fight back slipping through his fingers.

“Haha! Giyu is rather easy to take down!” Rengoku turned to Sanemi, folding his arms with a smile. “Wish to step up to the challenge, Shinazugawa?” I’ll gladly take you on!”

“Don’t act so cocky, flame boy!” Sanemi charged forward, heading straight for-

“Gah! Aheahhahhaha! Whahahait Whahahahit hohohohold on!” Tengen burst into laughter, Sanemi’s hands wedged beneath his arms. The shock of the move gave Giyu the opening he needed to start drilling into Tengen’s waist. “Chehehehahahhahters!”

“Not cheating! It’s teamwork! Didn’t you say that yourself?” Sanemi grinned, easily evading the flying elbows coming his way.

“Don’t be mad we've figured out your trick and turned it around on you.” Giyu snickered, his voice lost beneath the booming laughter Tengen produced.

On the sidelines, Rengoku laughed, impressed. “Well, they have a point, Tengen. We did say it was teamwork.”

“Shuhuhuhuhuhut uhuhuhuuhup and heheheheehhelp mehehehehehehehe!” Tengen cackled, nearly falling over as the pair found particularly bad spots along his torso.

“Very well.” Rengoku grinned, walking forward. “Let me show you the true power of teamwork!”

I hope this was good!

[one-boring-person]

I Trust You.

Marko (The Lost Boys) x Chiraptophobic!reader

Warnings: very vague mention of abuse, but they do not apply to the reader necessarily.

Context: The reader suffers from chiraptophobia (the fear of physical human contact/touch) and has somehow found themself in a friendship with Marko, who has somehow managed to understand how to not constantly need to touch his friend to show affection, until they take a ride on the Ferris wheel.

A/N: This was interesting to write, so j hope it's turned out alright. I guess I took a little inspiration from Death Stranding's Sam, but I thought it would be fun to do which it was. I hope it's enjoyable!😊💛

Masterlist

It took Marko weeks to finally figure out why I always shied away from his advances, why I'd stared uncomfortably at his offered hand until he withdrew it when he'd tried to shake mine in greeting, why I always wore gloves even in the suffocatingly hot summer air (despite him doing the same), and why I wouldn't go near people I don't know personally, often doing my hardest to steer clear of others in general. Rather than ask, he tried to work it out for himself, observing my behaviour and mannerisms for hours on end, though he still couldn't get what was up with my actions. He'd had to ask for some help from the others, though only David and Dwayne could offer any plausible reasons as to why: maybe I'd been abused in my past and was now averse to unfamiliar human contact, or maybe I was a germophobe. When the young vampire had asked me about both, I'd quickly denied them, thinking that it is unlikely he'd understand the real reason for my odd behaviour. It was only when he saw another person try to shake my hand that he finally noticed the emotion passing through my eyes at the prospect, at which point it all clicked into place. I was afraid of the contact.

Explaining to him what chiraptophobia is was surprisingly easy, though he was a little disappointed by this fact, being a very touch-driven person when around others, even when not in a relationship, though he did manage to take it in his stride, taking time to inform the boys of this as well, in case one of them accidentally made me uncomfortable. He'd nearly ripped Paul's head off when the taller vampire tried to wrap his arm around my shoulders, only letting up when I told him it was alright, that there was no harm done, despite how uneasy I felt afterwards. Since then, Marko has become almost like a bodyguard for me, making sure no one ever comes into my personal space, all while keeping his distance, too, respecting my limits.

We became fast friends, so much so that he eventually told me his secret, revealing his true self to me on one of the nights we chose to hang out together, alone, on the beach, a night I'd never forget. Naturally, I'd been shaken by this revelation, but soon grew used to the idea, knowing that my friend would never hurt me, not intentionally. After a few months, I finally felt comfortable enough to let him touch my gloved hand, though it still made me feel a little uneasy, the sensation of another person's fingers on mine unfamiliar and disturbing to me, but it made the vampire unbelievably happy, a bright smile plastering itself across his face for the rest of the night. He tells me he had to fight off the urge to hug me, for which I'm very grateful - touching a covered hand is very different to being enveloped in an embrace. Since then, he's taken any chance he can get to hold or touch my hand, always beaming like a beacon when he does so, my discomfort in the contact fading a little over time, though I'd soon found that it was only with the curly haired blonde that my body reacted like this, having asked Dwayne to try at some point, to see if it improved overall. Having come up negative in this test, I gave contact one last try with David, who never seems to take off his gloves, only to find that his touch made me uneasy as much as Dwayne's had, despite the two layers of cloth between our respective fingertips. The memory still sets me on edge, though I am well aware it has nothing to do with either David or Dwayne, rather my own mentality.

A shiver goes up my spine as I feel a hand slip into mine, though I quickly recognise the young vampire stepping in beside me, my stance relaxing again when my body realises whose touch it is, though my arm still remains a little tense, out of habit. Reassuringly, Marko swipes a thumb over the back of my glove, glad that I haven't rejected the contact yet, meaning I'm doing better than normal.

"Hey Stranger." He greets, grinning widely at me.

"Hey Blondie." I reply, smiling back at him in return, before casting a quick glance around for the others, "What'd you do with the other three?"

"They're around. Not sure where." The young vampire shrugs, dismissing the question quickly, "How was your day?"

"Not too bad. I didn't get much work done though, I was too preoccupied."

"Preoccupied? With what?" Marko inquires, raising an eyebrow at me in confusion, though his lips are still quirked up into an amused curve.

"That's for me to know, and for you to figure out." I chuckle, tapping the side of my nose secretively.

"Challenge accepted." He smirks, eyes lighting up at the prospect.

I smile at him as we walk, knowing he'll figure it out eventually, the answer being a little closer to home than he thinks.

"Anyway, how'd you sleep?" I question him, eyeing the Ferris wheel off to the side of the Boardwalk.

"Better than usual, actually."

"Oh yeah? How come?"

"Paul didn't snore so much for once, and David wasn't muttering in his sleep either, so it was pretty quiet, altogether." He explains, smiling when I laugh at the mention of David.

"Wait, David talks in his sleep?"

"Yeah, but you can't tell anyone! And especially don't tell him that I told you, or I'll have my ass kicked to the moon and back." Marko grins, biting his thumb as if nervous, though I'm aware that this is one of his signature mannerisms.

"That's a lot of ass-kicking. Probably quite impressive to watch. " I muse, noticing his arm lift slightly, as if to give me a playful slap on the arm, as he normally would've done with someone else, only to briefly squeeze my hand instead, shaking his head in mock exasperation. I grin at him, before turning my gaze back towards the Ferris wheel, admiring the glittering lights in the black night sky, wondering what the view is like up there.

"Wanna take a ride?" Marko interrupts my thoughts, eyebrow raised in amusement.

"Huh?" I blurt out, not having heard his question, quickly snapping my eyes back to his.

"Do you wanna go on the wheel with me?" He repeats, gesturing with a nod of the head to the great circular structure a little way away.

"I would love to, but I don't have any money on me tonight. I forgot my change." I say, somewhat remorsefully, using my free hand to pat my pockets to check for any loose coins, though I'm well aware I have none, having spent it all on food earlier in the evening.

"Who said anything about you paying? Come on, it'll be fun!" The blonde vampire promises, pulling me into the crowd, which parts around us thanks to his reputation (and choice of company), meaning no one comes into touching distance. At one point, my arm brushes past some surfer's bare bicep, which sends uncomfortable shivers and goosebumps through my body, the bitter, irrational fear that comes with it soon biting at the back of my mind, my pulse picking up slightly in response, my muscles turning rigid under my clothes. Marko notices this, briefly stopping to make sure I'm ok, before turning to memorize the surfer's face, most likely intending to take it up with him later, before we continue on, swiftly reaching the shortening queue for the Ferris wheel. Beside me, Marko fidgets and shifts in place, clearly eager to get on the rotating structure, his thumb between his teeth as usual, doe eyes focused on the ticket booth.

"Calm down, Blondie. The wheel isn't going anywhere." I laugh, watching the people around us as they amble to and fro, inching out of the way as a group of made-up girls push past, wincing as I brush against Marko, only to feel surprised when I don't feel the usual discomfort rising up in me from the contact, setting a train of thought into motion. I barely notice as the queue diminishes, only really returning to the present when we reach the booth, at which point Marko buys two tickets and leads me into one of the seats. An attendant comes over to help us secure ourselves, but Marko quickly stares him down, doing the job himself with efficiency.

Not too long after, we've reached a decent way off from the ground, our feet swinging gently in the air as we watch the Boardwalk from above, grinning and joking with each other as we take it in turns pointing out random individuals, making comments about them until the other laughs. At one point, the young vampire manages to spot David, Dwayne and Paul, making some sort of remark about how the leader's hair "looks like a pineapple from the top", before comparing the latter's to a mop. I do my best to hold back my laughter, but it only results in me nearly choking as he starts pointing out more and more likenesses between his friends and everyday objects, tears threatening to spill as I struggle to contain myself. It is only in this moment, that I realise one thing, but it takes me a couple more minutes to act on the thought that has sprung to mind.

Slowly, I pull off my left glove, teasing each finger out of their designated space with a deliberate hesitation, wriggling them a bit once I've exposed them to the air, enjoying the sensation of the light breeze around my heated digits. Marko makes a point of ignoring this, turning his gaze up to the star-strewn sky instead, only to snap his eyes back to mine when he feels a single finger touch the skin of his hand. Gingerly, I trace it over his knuckle, expecting to feel a rush of discomfort, my movements careful and calculated, knowing this is the first time in years that I've had deliberate contact with another person's skin. From my fingertip, it feels as if an electric shock has travelled through me, butterflies suddenly appearing in my stomach. Biting my lip when nothing bad happens, I continue this movement with the rest of my fingers, cautiously slipping my hand into his, enjoying the feeling of his icy cold palm against my warmed one, my eyes finding his shocked ones as our fingers intertwine. In them, I find a tonne of questioning, though he makes no move to actually ask, instead remaining quiet, carefully tightening his grip around my hand as he tries his best to feel as much of my soft skin as he can, the calluses from the handlebars of his bike rubbing slightly.

"What does this mean?" He eventually queries, elated that he can finally hold my hand without a glove being in the way.

"It means that I trust you. I've had no reaction to your contact, and I think it's because I enjoy being with you, and also because you've increased my confidence levels a lot since we first met. I've been trying to figure out why I'm ok with you touching me and no one else all day, which is why I was too preoccupied to work, but I finally worked it out." I inform him, telling him part of the truth - in reality, my trust goes a lot further than wanting a platonic friendship.

Marko is quiet for a moment, as if not quite understanding what I've told him.

"You trust me?" His voice is laced with disbelief, eyes fixing on mine again.

"I do."

Eyes widening again, he smiles, his other hand coming up, as if to try and wrap me in a hug, but the awkward positioning of the barrier, as well as the reminder of my usual discomfort, stop him in his tracks, his hand tightening around mine instead .

"I'm really glad you feel that way, (Y/n). Not many people do." He chuckles, referring to the naturally predatory air he gives off, being a vampire and all, still surprised that I let him touch me.

"I feel safe around you because I know you're my friend, but not many people can have the same claim." I point out, watching the view a little, enjoying the sight of the many glittering lights sprawled out before me, admiring the tiny orange specks of fires on the beach, as well as the rapidly moving headlights of a train passing through the outskirts of Santa Carla, most likely heading out towards the Bridge.

"Fair point." Marko agrees, still staring at our joined hands, which he continues to do until we reach the bottom of the wheel again, at which point he has to let go in order to remove the barrier from our laps. As soon as we're back on the Boardwalk, however, I slip my hand back into his, a small feeling of warmth welling up in me as I see the bright smile splitting his face, clearly happy that I've willingly made contact with him again.

A whistle behind us draws our attention, the sound belonging to a grinning Paul, who approaches us, along with David and Dwayne, who are both smiling at the sight of us, the latter more so than the former, though both seem glad to see their friend happy. As they come closer, I make eye contact with Dwayne, who lifts an eyebrow in questioning, a smirk making its way onto his face when I silently give him a nod, knowing he understands what it means.

I've fallen hard for the blonde vampire who's helped me get over my fear.

[steviemcfly]

Same Leftist Anon. America's just as guilty on interference (still bad). But, I think you're overestimating the Right's influence on Leftists. We've been seeing this trend from establishment Dems for the past year, especially during the Primary, and now every question of the validity of intel gets one labeled an "Evil Putin Stooge". Here's McCarthyism, FYI: "[...] the practice of making accusations of subversion or treason without proper regard for evidence." Red Scare? Sanders Primary vs WaPo.

Your perspective on the issue is skewed. Most of the “evidence” that the primaries were fixed is Assange and Wikileaks adding commentary in their descriptions of DNC e-mails that does not reflect the reality of the situation.

I was and am pro-Bernie. I didn’t particularly like Clinton, and I still don’t. I have the same problems with HRC’s e-mail server as the Bush-era RNC server that barely made headlines and didn’t result in any investigation, except that HRC’s server turned out to have no classified e-mails sent from it and the only classified e-mails were sent to it, which is a much less significant issue, and the RNC server used by the Bush administration had twenty-two million fucking e-mails deleted and never recovered. That said...

The DNC favored HRC. Media outlets tied to the DNC did as well. The delegate numbers were reported in such a way as to hinder Bernie’s chances as he began to do surprisingly well in the primaries. These are all facts. But he lost by three million votes. We don’t know for sure how the delegate count reporting would have affected his numbers and/or momentum, but even if we assume (I believe correctly) that they would have improved with fair reporting in that area, he still had a tough path to victory. In all likelihood, without the DNC playing favorites, and even without suspicious activity at lower levels by election officials in certain states, he would have still lost by about a million votes. I ran the numbers for countless scenarios, and very very few of them ended with him on top.

As well, the Wikileaks commentary/description of e-mails implied that DNC operatives were declaring her the winner before he lost. This is technically true, but incredibly misleading, as the earliest of those e-mails came about a week after it was mathematically impossible for him to get the majority of pledged delegates. And the e-mails were from low-level staffers, talking amongst themselves. Two entry-level workers saying that someone who can no longer win has lost is a non-story. Again, this is my opinion as someone who was adamantly pro-Bernie the whole time and decided to vote for Hillary (rather than writing in Jay Z) about a month before the election.

As far as your definition of McCarthyism, that’s so oversimplified as to be entirely useless. McCarthyism was not simply accusations of subversion or treason. It was a public witch hunt for secret Communist agents, especially in the entertainment industry, on no evidence. Russia is no longer communist, they’re under the rule of a far-right dictatorship whose regime is guided by a book whose tactics regarding the destabilization of American democracy are explicitly laid out (and whose author publicly congratulated Trump on his victory and implied that it was all part of the plan). The accusations are toward that regime, not toward random entertainment industry workers. The accusations are backed up by the findings of seventeen intelligence agencies and multiple private cybersecurity firms who are not affiliated with the government or DNC.

Your denial of the facts does nothing to help the left. The right is saying, “Even if it was Russia, we should be glad they got us this information.” We should be saying, “The CIA is a terrifying agency with a sordid history, and we should take what they say with a grain of salt, but we cannot accept or allow foreign entities--especially far-right dictatorships who want to destabilize us so that they can bolster their power and influence on the world--to control our country’s future.” If you think denying what Russia has done here does anything but help the right wing, you’re out of your mind. Finding ways aside from war to protect ourselves and our democratic process, fragile and flawed as it already is, from the influence of a foreign dictator’s regime is crucial to any chance we have of making progress for the left in this country in any area other than the skill with which we wank each other off on the internet.