#that's not my fault and he's fun to write so...

[luveline]

If you are still writing for bombshell x Spencer could you write something from early seasons when he had feelings for JJ 👉🏻👈🏻

Hotch told you once that he was tempted to put an automatic lock on the office doors, so that he can lock them when he sees you coming during your working hours. 

He has yet to follow through. You slip in through the doors and take a deep breath. It smells like coffee, printer paper, all the same stuff as your own office, but your office doesn’t have Aaron Hotchner, Derek Morgan, or Spencer Reid. 

“Neither does this one, apparently,” you mumble to yourself, casting your gaze around the room to no avail. The boys aren’t here. 

Emily’s sitting at her desk. She’s new, you’re jealous of her job, but she’s gorgeous. You won’t mind sitting at Spencer’s desk until they get back. “Hello,” you drawl, setting down in Spencer’s chair comfortably. 

Emily’s mildly startled. “Hey?”

Spencer’s desk is an explosion. You debate cleaning up for him. What if you put something in the wrong place? It’ll be more annoying than helpful. “How are things?” you ask, pushing Spencer’s chair back, and kicking a leg over your knee, high heel bobbing. 

“What?” 

You smile at her. Flirting, just a little, but your concern is real. “How are things going, Prentiss? With you?” 

“They’re good. Yeah. I just moved into my new place.” 

Bless her for not knowing what to do with you. She doesn’t have practice like the rest. “A new place? Where to?” 

She relaxes while you talk. Her apartment overlooking Kingman, her cat’s annoyance at the new smells and the long case time away. “Spencer says that cats aren’t capable of holding grudges, but Sergei can.” 

“He’s cute, isn’t he? He knows a fun fact for everything.” 

Emily sits up. You can see the excitement of a secret in her dark eyes. “He’s adorable. His little crush on JJ is so sweet, I’ve tried to give him some advice but he’s totally stuck on her.” You falter. And Emily, profiler in training, she catches it. Her lips part, startled. “You’re not–”

“I had no idea Spencer had a little crush,” you breathe, sitting up with a smile. “For how long? What about JJ, is she interested in him?” You hug your hands together. “You know, I think they’d make a cute couple.”

“Well, I heard they went to a football game together, but I don’t know when. Before I got here, at least.” 

What? “That’s fun.”

“I don’t think it’s serious.”

You tip your head back and the heavens have opened, Derek Morgan’s making his way toward you with a grin and a hand reaching for you. “Sweetheart, where have you been?” he asks. “It’s been weeks, I was starting to miss you.” 

You texted him a few days ago about a property nearby for rent, and you had coffee the day after to hear his advice on the area, so he’s just making stuff up. “Hi, Derek.” 

You get up and let him hug you. You deserve it. You’re beautiful and fun and smart, and you deserve a handsome man rubbing your arm and telling you he missed you. “How much?” you ask warmly. 

“Like a hole in the head.” 

Hotch is behind him. And there, the surprise item of the afternoon, Spencer Cheating Reid. 

“Hi, Hotch,” you say. 

“I heard something about you I’d rather not repeat,” he says. 

“Hotch, the details were wildly exaggerated, and I was less at fault than you might think.”

“I thought it was entirely your fault.” He shakes his head. “You’re shooting yourself in the foot, doing things like that.” 

“Why, what did you do?” Spencer asks. 

You falter again. Everyone sees your insecurity: Hotch’s brow furrows deeper than it had been, Morgan pauses, and Spencer, to your panic, holds your eye as the emotion passes. “It’s not worth talking about,” you say, shrugging. 

“Try not to do it again,” Hotch says. “Morgan, with me.” 

“Uh, Hotch?” Emily speaks up. 

“You too, Prentiss.” 

He leads a procession up to his office. Morgan throws you a look like he wants to talk to you, but you’ve plastered unaffectedness over the wound again. Why does the idea of JJ and Spencer going on a date upset you? He’s a sweet guy, she’s a nice girl. Is it because you didn’t know? 

“You really haven’t been here in weeks,” Spencer says. 

“Missed me?” 

He holds the strap of his bag. “Yeah, I did.” 

What use does he have missing you? “I heard something interesting about you, Spencer.” 

“You did?”

He looks shy, pale, and worried. You forget sometimes how he’s not just your favourite dork, he’s a friend. And he doesn’t seem to have very many of them. 

Oh, you think, jealousy, you heartless monster. 

“The rumour mill says you aren’t sleeping enough,” you say gently. 

“I sleep fine.”

You put one kitten heel in front of the other and stay, squinting at him with a teasing suspicion. “That’s not what my informants have been telling me. You look tired, honey. You aren’t sleeping, or Hotch won’t let you?” 

“Both.” 

He does that playful smiley thing that makes you wanna scrunch his hair in your hands, like he knows he’s made a good joke. 

“Your case in Cincinnati sounded tough.” 

“Wait,” he says. 

“What?” 

“Are you okay?” 

“Usually. Why?” 

“Are you okay right now?” 

“I’m fine.” You purse your lips. “Why wouldn’t I be?” 

“Just– you– I don’t know, you didn’t seem like yourself. I didn’t mean to upset you, asking about that stuff. It’s none of my business, sorry.” 

“How are you feeling about physical touch today?” you ask. 

He seems to regard you with distrust, for a few seconds, like he’s worried you’re messing with him. “I’m okay with it,” he says eventually. 

You step into his space and touch his cheek gently, fingertip tapping into a beauty mark you often remember only when he’s in your reach. “You didn’t say anything wrong. I’m sorry I made you think that.” You drop your hand. “Just having a weird day.” 

“Me too.” 

Spencer puts his bag under his desk and mentions a video he found on profiling you might like by one of the old Unit Chief’s, SSA David Rossi. You steal Derek’s chair and sit knee to knee with him to watch it, Spencer’s cheeks turning dark with blush in the screen’s reflection. 

Can JJ make him blush like that? 

—

bombshell fics

[cheshiresense]

Oh my God, you mentioned wanting to write a thing about when Starrk finally let's his reiatsu out, and honestly, I've been thinking about that so much!!! Like here is Starrk, who has been keeping his reiatsu down to around average, who sleeps all the time, so doesn't stand out, who stands beside Ichigo, Ichigo who crazy stands out, also Starrk who joins the 4th, the 4th who everyone else considers to be weaklings!! You imagine the look on everyone's face the first time he let's lose!?! Maybe some bullying goes too far, and Starrk, who nobody thinks much of, just smacks them down hard!!! And everyone is like WTF lol 😆

sorry, I just love the idea of when people realize that Starrk is actually strong like Ichigo!! So 😁 funny!! Anyway, thanks for sharing your thoughts about this. I love reading them.

Lol yes it's one of those scenes that you see happen in so many different ways and all of them would be fun. I'm undecided on how I want to do it Officially so I'm putting it off (or maybe I'll just write several of them lmao).

I imagine it would have to be very serious bullying for Starrk to take that much action, cuz like he really isn't the sort to step in for every little thing. If it happens to someone he considers one of his, he might note it down and then quietly go and prevent it from happening again from behind the scenes, but in real time, he'd rather diffuse the situation or leave it to the "victim" to handle it and only step in if it looks like they really can't, and even stepping in would just be a sharp word or two to run the bully off. He's not a straightforward bleeding heart the way Ichigo is, cuz the hit-the-problem-so-it's-no-longer-a-problem method is def Ichigo's go-to strategy, he would absolutely smack the shit out of someone bullying Asuka or Rangiku in front of him and be done with it right then and there, prob flaring his reiatsu without even meaning to cuz his control's a lot better these days but it's also kind of 0 to 50, well-hidden or flashing neon sign, no in-between unless he really concentrates 😂 It's another reason Starrk would have little reason of his own to act, cuz like Ichigo would absolutely beat him to it.

For me, I could prob imagine him unleashing his reiatsu/revealing his strength if someone's about to die and the threat is big enough that he actually has to flex. He's just not someone who'd easily show what he can do, and hiding it from the likes of Aizen and the Quincy wouldn't even be his top reason. It's more like lingering PTSD--his strength doesn't bother him anymore now that he's had years of proven control under his belt, and he's even needed every last bit of his power over the past decade of war, but subconsciously, he's still not 100% comfortable with just letting anyone feel it, even tho he has enough control now that it wouldn't hurt them unless he wants it to because what if? So like, his first instinct will always be to keep it locked down, and for minor stuff (altho minor is relative for him I guess lolol), pulling out that much power is def a last resort.

Again, it contrasts what Ichigo would do. Ichigo's just used to overkill. Like even before he got his powers, he learned that an overwhelming show of strength would solve most of his gangster-related problems very easily, plus he lived in a household where Isshin only backed off from kicking him into a wall or something by kicking first or kicking back. And then after he got his powers, it's not even really his fault that he internalized a "might is right" kind of mindset /points at the entire fucking SS invasion arc and honestly every arc after that/. And also he spent his first years of Shinigami-ing running around with an unsealed Zanpakutou and zero reiatsu control, being in a constant state of Shikai is natural for him, and (moving into this AU's headcanon territory) it took him several months into the Quincy War before he finally learned to seal it away and actually have other ways of fighting that isn't just flinging Getsuga Tenshous around. He uses Bankai the way other people use hand-to-hand combat or Kidou spells, so even now, his first instinct is to just hit the problem hard enough so that it won't get back up to do more harm, and for him, that applies to everything from schoolyard bullying to fighting monster-gods. And on top of all that, his actions are largely driven by emotion. More than anything else, his first reflex is to protect, and that often leads to him throwing way more power at a threat than he actually needs to. He knows how to be more subtle these days, but it's not his preferred method and def not a reflex either the way it is with Starrk.

Of course, Starrk also understands "might is right" just by dint of being a Hollow, but he's basically spent a thousand years as someone too strong for anyone to fuck with just by existing, so he doesn't have the same kind of exposure to physical conflict that Ichigo grew up with that would make violence his first instinct.

Aanndd omg this ran away from me lmao sorry, you get a speedrun analysis on Starrk and Ichigo instead 😅

TLDR I'm still not sure of any exact scenarios that would force Starrk to show his hand, I don't want to wait until a Sternritter shows up or a final showdown vs. Aizen happens because that would take forever before we get there (I mean I could just jump right in there since this isn't a whole fic, but in-universe-timeline-wise, I'd prefer it happening earlier), but it's difficult for me to imagine that something in everyday life or even just a Hollow extermination mission would be enough to make him reveal even a bit of what he can really do.

Case in point, if you remember that mission in SP canon where Shunsui brings Ichigo and Rangiku along on a mission into the Rukongai to gain experience, and Ichigo sees a Hollow about to attack Shinji who hadn't spotted it yet, but he also didn't want to leave Rangiku unprotected, he went straight for unsealing his Zanpakutou and basically hand-delivering a shopping list of unusual or downright unique abilities to Aizen via Gin. In this AU, if Starrk goes along, he would never do such a thing, and in fact, he'd stop Ichigo and just fire a damn Byakurai or something across the clearing and kill it that way. Even if Ichigo doesn't have the finesse to pull off a low-numbered Kidou spell on the fly, he could've chosen a higher-numbered one and that would've still revealed far less to Aizen than unsealing his Zanpakutou would. But again, subtlety isn't his strong suit. He now at least has the presence of mind to think about the consequence of leaping into the fray without thought, it would leave Rangiku wide open, but his first instinct is still to use overwhelming strength to protect the people he cares about.

In contrast, Starrk may be a soft touch compared to basically every other Hollow and quite a few Shinigami, but he has the maturity and just the general personality to go for the strategic option. He has a far more tactical mind, implied even in canon to rival Shunsui in that department, so rushing in just isn't in his nature.

The only other way imo is if someone just... asks. Reikaku (reiatsu-sensing) is a thing Shinigami learn. In canon people can sense exactly who's coming just by their reiatsu (if they know them), not just if they're a Shinigami or a Hollow or even a Human, but it doesn't really expand on how. So I imagine you have to have a good feel for the person's reiatsu, it's the same as my age headcanon for reiatsu, not only can someone halfway decent at sensing reiatsu be able to get an idea of the other person's age, they would also be able to recognize and associate that reiatsu signature with that person since everybody's is different, but obviously they would have to be exposed to it a few times to learn it. Starrk's reiatsu is very unique so once or twice would be enough, and I can see a situation where the kids might ask to feel it for that reason, or a mission might require the team leader to ask, etc. etc. So yeah, that's all I got.

[just-some-friendly-fun]

✦ ᴀ ɴᴀᴍᴇʟᴇꜱꜱ ɢʀᴀᴠᴇ

: ̗̀➛ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ #: ᴏɴᴇ-ꜱʜᴏᴛ (OC x Canon)

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: The days that follow after the dawning truth that befell Iacon, and the waste that had been laid as a result of the new leaders of Autobots and Decepticons have now stirred a mutlitude of reactions amidst the people of Iacon. Some feel betrayed and others angry over the lies they'd been fed their whole lives, and even some stir in denial as a result of their false Prime and all he'd done... While others bear a more personal wound after his termination.

■ ᴛᴀɢꜱ/ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: HUGE TF: One Movie Spoiler!! Major Character Death, Angst, Hurt, Character Grieving Over a Character's Death, Graphic Violence (Gore), Assault (someone gets a bottle thrown at them), Sentinel Prime & D-16 Megatron are mentioned, but only appear in flashbacks.

✎ ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 6,869

ׂ╰┈➤ A/N (if needed): Felt like putting one of my OCs into the emotional meat-grinder for fun, and also I'll post a song that I listened to while writing these, because yanno. Also, if I do need to tag anything else please lmk. This is sort of my rough first-time posting smthn like this, so lmk what you think!

▶︎ ɴᴏᴡ ᴘʟᴀʏɪɴɢ: ᴍᴏʀᴀʟ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴛᴏʀʏ - ᴀꜱʜᴇ

Three.

Weeks.

It had been nearly three weeks

Three weeks since the fall of Sentinel, when he had finally been shot down for flying too high where he should've never gone in the first place, and ended up crashing violently back onto Cybertronian soils as his plummet burned him alive and seared his frame.

Seared every part of his legacy, his influence.

His reputation and face once so boldly plastered onto every wall and holographic transmission, now torn down by servos once so welcoming and worshipping of their false God... Now turned to claws that dug angrily to tear off his face, his mark on Iacon, his history.

And maybe it was all deserved in the end, it really was--some way or other.

Memories of the day arrived in a constant fold, time and time again, washing over what little peace she had since the loss. It would often come to tear at her again when she had thought too much--and far too long on it, more than she was willing to admit.

Sunblitz wished she never did think on it sometimes, wished she hadn't been there during the execution, wishing that she didn't have the exact front row seats to his public execution that never stopped to remind her day in and out on what the color of Sentinel's frame looked like when his t-cog was torn out from him.

Or was it ever really his t-cog to begin with?...

Sunblitz's talons dragged further into her berth as it let out a weak scream from the metal to metal contact. Her pain bleeding into the desire to hurt what couldn't speak. To destroy something when her entire life had been practically wrecked in itself, the fault befitting more to the cup of her servos than any other.

She closed her optics and rendered herself locked in her own berth, her coffin of sorts, and waited for the rust to settle in, beginning first where her spark laid beating still--painfully so.

The flier tried to keep her optics shut tight, before re-opening them again, then closed, then open, a constant dance out of the darkness casted by her eyelids and to the shadows she casted over herself as she hid from the world beneath a tarp.

She was trying to furiously eradicate the memory from her processor core manually, time and time again as she writhed uncomfortably, merely pushing the recollection back only for it to have struck her back harder, running away and only to be captured and let go again.

✦ ✦ ✦

"No!.. No--!! Please! Please! Stop! Stop!" Sunblitz screamed, helplessly dragging herself on the floor, claws reaching to the open air as several of the golden death trackers and guards lay beside her in a heaping mess. Each of the polished plating reflected the appearance of her dreadful look as coolant furiously spilt from her faceplate to follow the tear-like designs already pre-made upon her looks, now giving them a real purpose, to no longer imitate for the sake of art.

Pain gripped at her very frame, seeping into the wires and plaguing her systems with a hot sensation that made it unbearable. She could feel the shock settling in as she pushed herself across the ground with the exposed axis of her legs, the exposed wires trailing along. She choked back a cry with every time the raw wound touched to the ground. Her legs were strewn about elsewhere by the hands of D-16, a cost of her duty--but by accordance to his views, a cost for intervening in this public execution.

No.

Not D-16.

Something far worse than Sentinel could've ever been in her optics. By the hands of a--a monster in his place.

She crawled pathetically with desperation, the pain of her missing legs searing through her sensors with every drag as she pathetically moved with desperation to stop D-16 while he lifted Sentinel into the air for all of Cybertron to see.

This wasn't how things were supposed to go... This shouldn't end like this.

"No..! No!! No--Please!!" Her voice rang shrill, a shattering pitch that went unheard. Sentinel was lifted higher and higher, the Prime's mouth agape once the silver mech behind him began to fasten his grip around one half of his body and then the other before a loud, sickening wail of stretched metal sounded in the air, slow and torturous.

"STOP!--"

A cacophony of limbs, wiring, and steel flesh began to split as the city of Iacon fell first to hearing Sentinel's choked screams of agony, followed by bloodlust-filled hollers and cheers below somewhere amidst the exiled. His helm tilted further back, his servos unable to stop himself from breaking into two as he was split apart by servos fueled with rage. This was the end.

Her optics had met to his, and every part of her screamed in her mind--get up!

GET.

UP.

But the painful truth took hold to her. She wasn't going to make it. She couldn't do a thing in this state but watch, helplessly with her optics torn wide open to remember this moment vividly, for the rest of her life. She should've looked away, saved herself the addition of another drowning tidal wave of pain until, for the briefest moment Sentinel had left, he spoke up, and out rolled a final lie to the world, to her.

"It's... Alright-" He choked, ".. It's gonna be okay-"

His words no longer existed, cut short, and abrupt, followed by a crash of metal and snapping circuitry, and wires that filled the air. It was still day and yet with every spark that flew across her vision and crackle of electricity, for a moment. She thought she was seeing the stars to the universe die out.

And then, she was no longer looking at optics lit with life anymore, as his body--a part of it-- fell before her and it took...

One.

Two.

Three flickers.

Before the rings in the lens of his optical receptors went out one by one, until he had finally been rid from the world, lips parted in a silent scream that Sunblitz herself couldn't have voiced for him as her vocalizer had been strained to its limit, leaving every choked cry to befell her to become agonizing.

Even when his death wasn't enough. Sunblitz lifted her helm to watch while Megatron proceeded forth, unsatisfied yet of his slaughter. He began to reach down, tearing open the chassis and into the chest cavity again to feast upon the rewards that lie waiting for him. Sentinel Prime was soon desecrated, robbed of the very thing he stole from another, Megatronus' t-cog now befitting to the new brutal revolutionist who preached to his followers below.

Her spark hammered against her chassis, the echo ringing in her audial receptors at the sight and she felt a stinging urge in the back of her throat to throw up, force everything out as her tears were the first to begin spilling from her in rapid streams. In her last morsels of strength, she crept forward, sliding close enough to pull what remained back to her, and to reap the scavenged remains, holding close while it was already beginning to dim into a cold, gray design. She held to his body, offering a warmth that was meaningless, pleas left unheard, gripping to it.

Sunblitz sobbed into the side of his helm and lifted it carefully off the floor and laid it against her, to find some meaning to the weight and to trick herself into believing, despite the odds, he was alive... Even for a moment, shredding her sense of reality just for a droplet of delusions. It didn't help when the weight had grown a smidgen lighter, cold.

She didn't know what compelled her to say it, but as her spark began to wring itself dry from the twisting threads of her own emotions, she spoke up.

"Don't... Don't you dare leave me like this, Sentinel Prime..." She silently sobbed, "Don't you dare... Go," Before burying her faceplate into the crook of his neck.

✦ ✦ ✦

An abrupt knocking came at the door, violently yanking Sunblitz from the cycle of pain Sunblitz had thrown herself within as she pushed up to her knees, her fore-helm against the berth. She waited.

"Sunblitz. Open up. You can't stay in there forever,"

At the voice of her carrier, Sunblitz shifted further into the blankets as if to hide from an unseen gaze. She was beginning to feel the tarp she concealed herself with grow taut against her wings. It tangled and snagged onto several nooks and crannies along her frame. A soft creak of her body became her only response, and in turn, another knock came harder than the last.

"Sunblitz." Voltcharge began, and from there. Voltcharge didn't have to start any further on her lectures or demands.

Sunblitz knew better.

So, with aching resistance, she slowly untangled herself and yanked on the tarp, attempting to throw it off of her frame but only stopped from her harsh throws and pulls once it snagged sharply on the parts between her arms and wings. A trickling sensation of pain seeped with the tight lock she found herself in, forcing her to halt abruptly.

She grimaced, forced to be gentle to herself as she searched her frame for the snag, and slowly unloosened the tangled tarp from the space in-between her gears, before resuming. Her fight became a loss. Her optical receptors slowly adjusted to the dark silhouette of her room, only illuminated by the slight crack that remained ajar by the curtain-covered glass wall that led out to the balcony of her room. She stepped out of her berth, and let out a ragged sigh, breathing in and out to make sure her vocalizer hadn't strained itself too much from the countless hours she spent in her vulnerability, wondering if the walls had been thick enough to conceal and keep her secrets in.

She hoped they were.

Heavy trudges answered to the door, she swiped her face-plate and reached for the input pad of her door, slipping the code with a few clicks of the keys before she came face to face with the older femme beyond, and a tray full of energon cubes stacked into a loosely designed pyramid, with a few blocks here and there led astray from the initial concept clearly. Sunblitz glanced at the appeasement gift, then to the older femme.

Voltcharge's audial finial twitched, and she slowly offered the tray forth, serving to her first patron of the day.

For a moment, Sunblitz eyed at the cubes, and then back up to Voltcharge in silent questioning, her vocalizer unfit to produce any real words just yet before the silent exchange ended with a sigh.

The older femme re-adjusted the positioning of her hold on the tray and spoke up, plucking a cube from the arrangement, "Might've over done it a little but... You skipped on refueling hours quite a bit ago, I thought I'd bring extra," She expressed, explaining to the design as it left Sunblitz to huff.

"... I don't need it," She said, internally cursing as her words began to drag with a prominent rasp.

Her carrier was immediate to the slight catch in her throat and the voice Sunblitz carried, before she spit-fired back a solemn response, "Like slag you don't," Before visibly liftening her sharpened optical ridges and softening her gaze. She bit down her glossa for coming off too strongly and to make up for it, a quiet "sorry" escaped her and she shifted her placement beneath the tray again, to selected one of the Energon cubes. She plucked to one of the cubes, the one from the very top now lying at the bottom of Sunblitz's outstretched hand, "... Just, take one, at least. You can't keep neglecting your health like this," Voltcharge spoke, with a touch of concern in her voice, her optics dimming to a pleading look.

By way of her weakened state and inability to deny the truth, Sunblitz couldn't help but begrudgingly sigh. She to the cube, placing it on her glossa as the conveyer-portion of it began to coax the cube into the back of her mouth and she proceeded to consume it under Voltcharge's careful gaze until it let up.

The older femme sighed with relief and her sharp gaze dulled to a passive look, her optics adjusting and brightening as she nodded at her eldest's compliance before walking off.

She paused briefly in her strides to look back at Sunblitz, tilting her helm in gesture once she noticed Sunblitz hadn't followed, "C'mon, come downstairs and help me get The Rewind up and at 'em, hm?"

Sunblitz huffed, "What's the point?..." Sunblitz remarked, Nobody's going to be coming here not after..." She trailed off, and pursed her lips, the fresh memories arising once again and making the sweet aftertaste of Energon on her tongue go sour while she gazed on to her carrier.

Voltcharge stared on and, she responded, offering Sunblitz another cube from the tray to goad her out of her room. Reluctantly, Sunblitz followed to pick up another Energon cube, and then down the stairs went Voltcharge who spoke between every step, "... It still doesn't hurt to keep it open for the people that still need this place. A place to come down to and rest, have a drink or two after everything," She advised. "The people need it. They deserve it,"

At that, Sunblitz couldn't deny the older femme's reasonableness on the matter. The idea of keeping The Rewind opened right after felt at some ways... Capitalizing off the conflicts as of late, but with the intentions her creator carried, it sways the thought.

Yet even then, Sunblitz wondered if the same could be said for her--whether the resolution would be just that simple, or enough. Her own mind felt like a mess, a steaming, hot pile of burning slag that not a cup of high-grade could fix or extinguish. Either way, she shook her helm to push her problems aside and followed dutifully after, syncing her steps to Voltcharge's,

"... Fine,"

✦ ✦ ✦

Slowly, but surely, Sunblitz had resumed to aiding Voltcharge in setting up the establishment, the floors were cleaned, booths and tables polished, and inventory stock was checked, and so on to make the space cleaned up just right to keep the welcoming atmosphere hanging. A few customers had arrived in soon, not many clearly as she noticed that some hung outside the entry point, some merely turning away when they caught glimpse of Sunblitz to mumble something beneath their breath.

She pursed her lips at the hateful gazes that came and go, but she didn't necessarily point and blame them for it, not after everything.

She looked back into the rest of the establishment after giving the bar top a firm wipe-down. The place was nearly desolate, mind a few customers here and there that laid in the far corners, drinking themselves silly and having a good cry into their mugs. Others had finally gotten some shut eye, slumped in booths and tables--only finding rest when the drinks had pushed and encouraged for them to submit to the need for recharge, ending their days of neglect for rest or previous inability to.

No words were spoken amongst what remained of her family, as she looked around. Voltcharge was working behind the countertop as usual, having wiped clean the same glass when all others were already accounted for, and Razorcase was helping check up on the generators and other technical areas of the bar--trying to keep his own servos busy to occupy his mind from the messy days. At some extent, Sunblitz had even begun to wonder how her other sisters were holding up after the mess... Or at least one of them, no... Both.

She didn't even want to think of it like that, and regardless she did, now her attentions lingering on the thought of Silversong, and how she was doing since her body was... Recovered from the rubble.

Her tank began to coil uncomfortably again while she gripped the microfiber rag and to the shelf she was cleaning now, her claws lightly digging into the material of the furtniture.

Silversong had known to D-16 far longer than Sunblitz ever did, and she almost wondered whether somehow or other if Silversong had any part to the slag-show that resulted in all of this. And even without the role for causation, she almost wondered if Silversong did anything to stop that monster from becoming who he was and-

She stopped, her servo gripping fiercely into the steel shelf, nearly leaving indentations to the edges. The teeth of her digits had carved up the paint and material, dirtying the golden tips.

Sunblitz stared for a long moment, peeling her hand back and removing the rag from the shelf to clean off the evidence from her talons before deeply sighing. I need to get out of here, she thought, internally fearful of harming something else now while in her moments. She abandoned from her post from behind the countertop, throwing the rag loosely onto the flat of the table as she passed by her carrier in a speed-walking motion, catching their optic..

"Where are you going, Sunblitz?" .

Sunblitz continued her strides, slowing them down a step to speak rather than abandoning to Voltcharge's inquiries completely, "... To... Somewhere, I guess to uh. To get my processor off of things, y'know?" She remarked, trying to keep casual, extremely eager to leave.

"Do you need me to come along with you?-"

"No!" She abruptly began, like an uncontrolled blast from a gun, her words came out too sudden, too explosive than she would've liked-- which now left her patting out the flames of where her words ended up striking, looking to the surprised bartender, as guilt briefly glimmered in her optics.

Sunblitz cleared her throat "No--I mean, it's... Fine. I..." She waved a dismissive servo, averting her gaze, "I think--I'd like to go alone," She said.

After a moment of awkward silence, she slowly pivoted on her heel and pushed to moving towards the door again"... I-I'll be back soon, I promise,"

"Alright but, stay safe out there," The older femme resumed, and just as Sunblitz prepared to leave the establishment, she freezed at Voltcharge's next remark, morally obligated to stop and go like a delayed clock--uneven in its ticking and pace.

"-And you know you can always talk to me, right?" Voltcharge hummed, "Or Razorcase or even..." She froze mid-gesture, her own words now carrying too short and dropping like a dead fly.

She had trailed off, and Sunblitz had already known painfully too well what she was intending to say.

Your sisters.

But that option wouldn't be available at this moment, not with the current state of things as it almost made her scoff at the thought. Silversong was the last person she wanted to talk to right now, yet the only one she felt tempted to reach to, to demand answers even if it meant to grip to her unconscious form and to scream at her from there, to ask what had happened when she had disappeared off with the group of miners and came back to all this. And as for Hightop? Primus knows where she's gone since all that had happened, having remained holed up in her room from time to time or either gone elsewhere.

Her family was currently a mess of itself, so to her. It only felt right to leave and find her own space rather than rely to her closest ties--not while they were like this--a conflicting tangled web of lies, and mistrust, uncertainty and cluelessness, to put it crudely.

"Yeah. I know," She said, more lenient to brushing off the offering more than anything to seek her own methods of peace. She began to resume her trek, looking to her side and reached out as she took to an abandoned bottle of cheap high-grade left behind by some sap she remember slumped here from yesterday. Before waving out at the door, "I'll see you soon, Voltcharge,"

With that, she bid farewell and shortly departed, having felt the set of concerned optics burn into her back, attempting to shrug it off as she disappeared out the doorway.

✦ ✦ ✦

"... Dirty traitor!"

"Lowly scum bag!"

"Wasn't it your job to protect us!?"

"Slagger!"

Sunblitz raised her forearm as a glass bottle crashed against her plating, wincing. Her forearm shielded herself from the shards that flew explosively in their own web of directions, fortunately none having entered in places she didn't want them to.

She opened up her optics devoid of glass--and made sure to keep them that way while she hurried off before another bottle could be thrown at her, narrowly missing her helm and into the wall she darted past.

The barrage of hostile messages barely relented with each step, wondering whether she should've just changed her passage route as it was beginning to become slowly more populated with bots who saw to her and thought,

"Now there's an outlet we can use. There's the one who was apart of this mess,"

Damn it all, she thought as she dodged poorly to a thrown can that nearly caused her to trip.

The group of various bots she had passed began to raise their volume with each advancement she made while walking away, wanting to remind her of her past with every opportunity they still had in her presence.

Sunblitz knew that she could've flown here, made it easier for herself had she taken to the skies but there was no longer any pride for her gift of wings. At the very moment, most fliers weren't regarded very well, considering that most of the fliers that once made up the population of Iacon were associated one way or another with Sentinel, some thought back to either the ex-High Guard, and Sentinel's personnel, now turned Decepticons or either dead.

Even if she did take the option, she couldn't put much trust that it'd be a smooth sailing without someone deciding to take her down from the skies with just one very accurate and emotionally driven throw of a tool or some other, so for now. She dismissed the thought and forced herself down this walk of shame, venturing on and taking to the strikes of cans against the helm, sheet metal and anything else that proved to be a rather effective tool to remind her of her regrets and faults for ever associating so closely with Sentinel Prime.

She wondered if he'd be even laughing or pitying her from where he stood in the afterlife by now.

Down the streets she went, down every road, and path. Her pede followed to very calculated steps, an internal route that she had followed time and time again to visit to the one place where she'd be able to find some quiet to herself... The one place where she truly could speak to someone freely without interruption.

She turned up around a corner and glanced around for a moment, having drawn out on the farther side of Iacon city down at the outskirts. She sighed, and trudged up to a particular space, twisting to one more corner, down a flight of short stairs.... And there, she found herself face to face with Sentinel Prime.

...

Or what was left of him really.

The intricate statue that remained of his head had been worn out, cracked in the side of the helm where it had its first taste of concrete after several of the miners down in the center of Iacon took it down from its shiny pedestal, the only recoverable part she could find in the mess of broken pieces of his limb and bod.

His faceplate adorned to smears, and scars, littered in desecration that aimed to ruin everything he found so perfect in himself. His jaw had been broken off too, ironic, to say the least--perhaps for the sake that he could tell no more lies. Even in this petrified yet solemn expression.

Beside it, there was his wings--his actual wings--clipped from the scene during his fight with Megatron. She even wondered how she had managed to find these in rather adequate condition, after her recovery, and after her makeshift trials with the new leader, Optimus Prime. She had initially suspected that someone would've at least made a grab for them to destroy and throw away or some other. Yet it didn't feel so much as a lucky find and more of a dreadful discovery that some part of him survived when the rest hadn't.

It was the only thing she had left of Sentinel to remember of him, not that he had deserved much of a proper memorial in the eyes of the people who once adored him.

Sunblitz almost wondered what they had already done to the rest of his frame already, probably melted it down into slag and then thrown away to be turned into garbage, some sort of tragic cycle of being used to be rendered useless again, or perhaps turned into something undignified, a crude design of his visage to remind all of Iacon the liar that had been plaguing their government for years... Or maybe her processor was all too forgiving, too kind, and uncreative at the moment to really wonder what happened and what they'd done to it, because most certainly, she knew that Iacon bore no kindness for being played like fools, nobody would.

Regardless, she took to the one thing she had left and properly arranged to the space again as it had come undone since her time away, keeping everything into place. His helm laid at the foot of a piece of debris, chipped poorly to make for a headstone. His wings leaned against the side of it, folded on the other instead of displaying proudly.

His name was once etched on the stone but became desecrated by her own golden talons, for the better--she thought. Otherwise, had anybody found the space she had been visiting to, Sunblitz was most definitely certain they would've just destroyed it completely, to purge Iacon of the traitorous figure.

The flier eventually settled, only after scarring to the stone obelisk again, making her... Seventh notch in the material before sitting down in front of it where she could face the decapitated stone helm.

She watched it, as it watched her, and with a deep sigh. She pushed out her first words to the open air,

"Hey," She greeted, with no mirth, and nothing short of forced casualty.

...

Silence.

As to be expected.

...

She slowly clenched her digits close and parted her lips, ready to speak again until... All the words she had, mingled into something else altogether, her internal script becoming unwoven by the letter,

"I..."

Sunblitz took in another breath, her ventilators whirling as her processor tried to find something, to untangle the words and make this as clean as possible, gripping to the lower end of her facial plate.

It shouldn't have been this hard--she's done this before.

She was speaking to a rock for Primus' sake.

"I--hff." She huffed, and tried again and only embarrassed herself further when a choked noise escaped.

Primus, she looked insane.

"Ugh...Hhhgghh---!!! Frag. Frag it all I guess! Let's just. Let's just roll with the punches," She expressed, miserably reassuring herself as she threw out her desired, clean scripts out her mental window, doing it the way she's always done...

Not like the ways that she was once used to, no.

There were no more cleanliness to anything she did, she wasn't given that option anymore. Just a mess, of herself and--everything!

"Frag it--frag it all! I don't even know what the hell I'm even doing here, talking to this--talking to you--I look insane!" She exclaimed, judgmental of herself in every part when the figure before her wasn't even alive for her to blame.

Throwing her servos forward and glaring at the Sentinel helm, she huffed at its natural indifference, "Y'know what? I bet you're all up happy--happy and prancing about in the Allspark right now, all giddy and slaggin' gone stupid with joy that you didn't have to fight bolts and nails to prove your innocence, huh?! That you didn't have to be down here like all the rest of us facin' the consequences of your own actions!" Sunblitz breathed, her chassis rising and falling as her anger steadily rose with the silence from the stone, pinching the metal between her optical ridges.

She was right somewhere, this was stupid--let alone embarrassing to be talking to this inanimate object that looked like her last partner albeit bodyless...

and... Jawless... And lifeless.

But, damn if she did and damn if she didn't--whatever she was doing. It was working in getting her to talk and so she persisted, sighing and grabbing to the stone head, holding it close in hopes that it would help burn her out soon enough in her tangents and hopeless rants.

"You don't even KNOW how absolutely fraggin' grueling it's been bein' around here and cleaning up after you!" She hissed, "... Telling and begging all of Iacon to believe me--me! One of the very closest people to you--you, who had to go and blow up everythin', and make an absolute slag show out of this entire thing!" Sunblitz exclaimed, shaking her helm, "I--I honestly can't believe it! Do you even understand how terrible it was?! To be looked at and ridiculed, to no longer make people feel safe around you when you swore to protect them?!"

She almost felt like throwing the helm out of her lap. Her digits wrapped tightly around the sides, watching as the material cracked slightly, breaking under her harsh gaze and even harsher treatment.

Sunblitz forced herself to exude once again, some extent of restraint, not wanting to actually break him despite the temptations that lied in the back of her processor to do so, to take and find some peace in destruction, as she always did, be it on herself or something else.

She closed her optics again, gritting her dentas and sucking in a sharp breath--then carefully dropping the helm back onto foot of the obelisk to keep it away from her talons, scoffing at it instead.

Reeling in her anger, she found the strength to speak up once more when she had the coherency to, forcing herself to drop her dignity out so that her whirlpool of thoughts at the moment would be better balanced and given light of this opportunity. She doubted that she'd ever get the chance like this to speak to him, to argue like she used to, to hear his stupid voice, watch his face crack with bafflement at her defiance.

This was her taste of reprieve and for her alone, so she'd be sure to relish in every part of the taste of it,

"... All of Iacon's struggling to process what you did still, half the center of the city is wrecked and we've got new messes arriving soon. There's... There's Decepticons and Autobots now. And... And they're being lead by the miners that--- you messed up, the ones that.. You.. You tore out their transformation cogs from?!... I mean, who does that and... And you lied to me! You lied to me this entire time and kept it secret--from me!!" She pointed to herself.

The decapitated head only stared and continued to say nothing.

Sunblitz huffed and shook her helm, not even understanding why she was getting so worked up about this statue-head not reacting, not saying a word, blinking, anything--and yet she knew somewhere, that some other. It was the simple work of projection, forcing all her emotions onto this single, lone block of stone that made it real enough for her to converse with--or rather simply fill the silent space around with her voice. Every echo coming back in her own words felt just right enough to make up for a conversation, even if it felt a little mocking and uncomfortable.

She didn't know if that made her more of a fool to the fact that she tricked herself into believing just enough that this hunk of rocks was him, or the fact that it was working.

Her thoughts lingered and delved now that she was alone and face to face with him, some part that fooled her just enough.

She thought back and swam in her memories, no, not swam--she began to drown in them and her own doubts, sinking further into the spiraling whirlpool of her mind before, bobbing to the surface again with an unsteady realization, "...Primus, how long have you been lying to me? For how long did you keep up this facade?"

Silence.

"... Was there every any truth to anything you said...?" She muttered in disbelief.

The stone-head continued to keep quiet, lips permanently sealed, and in her dying hopes. She leaned back and steadily pressed her knees up to her chassis, crossing over her arms and glared to the rock before averting her gaze as she softened her voice, spitting out bitter words that hold no better heat than to a firecracker, "... And to think you had the audacity to lie to me, and promise me that it would be okay..." She scoffed, "... Was this your definition of it being 'okay' then?..."

...

Still, silence filled the air in place of his reply.

Her expression turned sour and she pursed her lips, faceplate scrunching up, "... You gave me a purpose here, a job, and somehow you ripped it away from me without having to do--anythin'. Now, the people of Iacon can't even look at me, because they think I'm just like you and... Airachnid--that I knew from the very beginning that you both were knee-deep in all this slaggin' mess... and don't even get me started on what they've got on with Airachnid now," She said, rolling her optics to the thought before glowering again.

Her gaze fell right back onto to the decapitated helm of Sentinel. She gripped her fists around air again and settled back into an uncomfortably bunched state, huffing as her wings drooped and she hid back behind the wall of her crossed arm to glare like a petulant child, the gaze giving away to a look of weariness, a flame in her eyes that should've been put out long ago,

"... I should feel lucky. In fact, I think you would've probably told me that I was lucky. Somehow or some other with that cocky, arrogance of yours somewhere." She said, "But I don't. I don't feel lucky. Between the three of us? And all that happened? ... I'm starting... To feel like you... You were the luckiest out of all three of us, Sentinel,"

She gripped her arms a little harder, bitter to the thought, "you got the easiest way out possible, while me and that bodyguard of yours had to suffer the collateral, and some of us--me, especially, and so many others, are now pickin' up after you, was this all really worth it?... Did all of this live up to your intended dreams caked in gold and all the finer things in life?!..." She near-shouted, before forcing herself to quell her anger by a smidgen, cutting off her volume first when she had heard pedes off in the distance down the alley walking by.

Her eyes widened, tucking herself further near to the tombstone close to the wall and kept quiet, silent and watchful until the silhouettes passed, keenly listening to the sounds of their steps

... Until silence became restored and she sat back with a relieved sigh, now solemnly glaring at the rock nearest to her lap before looking away when she had once again picked it up and carefully placed it into her folded legs,

"... Maybe she had already known this would happen, but me? I was the damned fool who knew nothin' of this..." She said, before something bit into her throat at the thought--the idea of being innocent and a victim--left a more burning flavor of disgust on her glossa than any of Cybertron's worse below-grade Energon could ever do, rephrasing,

"... No, I wasn't the damned fool who knew nothing... I knew something and felt too complacent to even think of sniffing around any further to see what kind of slag you were hidin' from me... From all of Iacon, from the world..." She rested a servo over his helm, and reluctantly dragged it to tilt his lifeless eyes up to her, by the chin.

"... If Primus had written your fate to be like... This? Then, by the Allspark, do I have some slaggin' criticism for his work," She said, trying to find something bitter to say but, all there was left in her internal storage now was just... Memories, both good and bad that she wanted to get off her chassis. The idea of something so sweet between brittle and sharp thorns of her mind was... Almost repulsive.

She reached back, and forced them out--like throwing out tchotchkes and toys she no longer needed or wanted, only to look back and wonder whether they still deserved to stay or to go

"... For a moment, and during the nights, I can't help but think... They were too easy on you, too merciful," She started up, outright blunt honesty as he would've expected from her, "... I sometimes think you should've been brought to justice, imprisoned, stripped of your wings, your power, somethin' more that I know would've hurt you more than what you got in the end... And sometimes, I can't believe I think that way now... Say things like that. It's like I'm right back to where I was the first few times I knew you... So hateful, and... Full of resentment," She crossed her arms over the top of his helm, bringing the rock close to her chassis, looking over it.

"Sometimes I wonder if I was even the first bot to have ever hated you when I came... What a privilege that would've been, hm? Someone original out of every copy here who said they 'loved' you,"

She sighed, "And now look at me." Sunblitz tilted the stone-head to face to her as she gently cupped the side of its face, the cold material leaving her to shudder as she narrowed her optics and lowered her helm.

Passing the weight out of her servos and back onto the ground, she stood up once more with a hardened expression, what softness lied now became suffocated, "... You are... One of the most downright, worst bots, I could have ever gotten the privilege to know... in this life cycle, and I..." She trailed, her servo wandering just short of the storage compartment to her forearm, taking out the extra company she brought with her in the form of a bottle of cheap high-grade, "...Honestly do not know... Or whether I ever truly knew... Whether I hated you or if I ever genuinely did... like you," She whispered the last half out, and sighed deeply.

Her index and thumb seized to the cork, twisting.

"... This one's for you, Sentinel,"

"pop!" went the plug, and out went the dark blue liquid. She took to a short sip of the bottle of processor-poison first, choking on the taste as she spilt the rest out over the rubble and mess that she called Sentinel's grave, sharing the awful drink out to her unresponsive partner. Her yellow optics dimmed to the lowest setting they'd been in since... Ever, watching as it spilled over and stained every part before becoming a pool on the ground that surrounded his helm like blood. Sunblitz watched until all of the contents slowly left the bottle and onto the crudely arranged headstone and for a moment. She observed to the waste.

It almost looks like his color, she thought, with pursed lips and a strain in her throat. Sunblitz cleared her vocalizer for the moment, trying to rid the bitter taste that lingered, looking to the headstone once more with a conflicted look that slowly gave away.

"... I hope you're happy with yourself from up there," She whispered, huffing as the bottle ran dry, before allowing it to slip from her fingers. It clattered onto the cold rubble where she knelt once more to come at eye-level to the stone, tracing her digits gingerly onto the engraved moniker, and her spark began to ache once more and twist itself painfully.

Blame it on the high-grade, she thought, blame it on the high-grade.

Before Sunblitz knew it, she held to the sides of the obelisk, and leaned her helm to it, a ragged sigh escaped and she breathed,

"I hate you..." She airily said, before allowing herself the moment of silence to pour out one last thing, suspecting that the poor high-grade pool beneath could use to a coolant finisher, as she softly breathed and wept against the monument in silence.

[screen-universe-official-thingie]

Salutations, this is Sea Adhesiveness speaking from the paracosm/daydream/fanfic blog!

Very fun fact: this art work among other hate art and hate content I witnessed of middle season/post movie SpongeBob back in the day is one of the major inspirations and perhaps one of the things that gave birth to the paracosm's/mind world/fanfic's existence. It also inspired the general concept and backstory of my fanfic protag SpongeBob himself.

The general gist of his shit was that he kept getting attacked by Weblings (beasts from the Internet Realm) who hate his episodes so much that they raided his territory (killing anyone who's vulnerable to a perma death in the process) and their realm gave him psychic damage when he stumbled upon this sort of stuff about him for whatever reason.

Yeah, you heard me, my boy SpongeBob got the angsty backstory treatment because of things like this and I'll continue to lovingly angst him to the moons and back with it. My wet kitten of a blorbo got cancelled for acting out not so great episodes and look what happened to him. He's traumatized! Haunted by his canon and official writing, something that's out of his control! Depressed!! He feels guilty about a lot of things (him acting out some shitty episodes and triggering the whole thing being one of them) and thinks it's his fault.

My man went scrunklified

I was in the middle of class yesterday when I suddenly remembered this one art of the old Spongebob angrily crying while holding a giant hammer, ready to crush the modern Spongebob who's just standing there looking at him, and honest to god I nearly lost it right there :P

Ngl this is funny as hell for no reason

He would NOT do that. He'd probably be like "omg ur just like me fr" and they'd both start laughing together and give Squidward an aneurism.

[velvet-paradox]

Naughty

Fandom: Call of Duty Pairing: Keegan P. Russ x Female reader Length: Medium Summary: You like your man a little mean and he obliges. Warnings: NSFW 18 + ONLY, reader discretion advised, established relationship, name calling (dumb, dummy, toy, slut), strong language, porn with very little plot, a lot of brain rot going on here friends, light slapping (but not painful), oral (f receiving), unprotected p in v, creampie, dirty talking, detailed smut. P.S. I may or may not have a lovi obsession just sayin'. OK BYE Tagging: @synnersaint

She likes it when he's mean.

When he comes home hot and still full of spit and vinegar. Says it turns her on to get a little kaleidoscope glimpse in to what his enemies get the full taste of. Of course he's never truly mean to her, how could he? He loves his little dummy back home. With her glittering eyes and open arms, waiting patiently for him mission after mission. Her hugs are the best. Welcoming him home, where he belongs, even if he does reek of gun residue, sweat and gore.

Blood doesn't bother her, whether it be her own or Keegan's, she's not shy with the sticky stuff. She's cleaned his wounds with bare hands and when she's finished she's got more dirt and grime under her nails then he did. She's even stitched his forehead once or twice, much to his disapproval even though when he chances a look in the mirror, he can barely see the scars.

She's good.

Too good.

Too good for him, she doesn't deserve the junk and turmoil he brings to her doorstep. Wounds that won't heal, scars that won't fade. But he tries. He tries to be a good man when he's not running point, when he's not given instructions to just barrel through and get the job at hand, done. Keegan wants to be a good man; good enough to deserve you.

He looks at your photo when he's alone in his tent, on the road, in the helo. When the world is just too fucking loud, he's careful to take it out of his front left breast pocket (safe keeping of course), looking at your beautiful handwriting first.

FROM ONE DUMMY TO ANOTHER XOXO

He'll smile at it, beneath his ghost balaclava or bare and streaked when he's all alone, before he'll turn it over. Still after these tedious months, he gets that tingle in the pit of his stomach, the ends of his toes, the balls of his feet, the seam where God himself split his sac.

You don't have to be naked to look this fucking good. In fact, you're fully clothed, only your soft hands are available, giving two peace signs on the back of his motorcycle. Two of his most precious guilty pleasures.

"Come on, come on." Your whine cuts through the forgotten music in the background, the faint smell of a homecooked meal wafts up the stairs and renders the man completely useless.

Keegan is transfixed at the leash in his hand, the black leather is soft and worn in his palm, the chain clinks quietly when he moves his wrist and finally looks down. Stunned once more by your beauty. On your knees in a lacy one piece, slinky at best, leaving just a hint of peek-a-boo skin through the fine material. The leash is of course attached to the collar around your neck, next thing he sees is your wiggling, hips swaying as if you had a tail, sticking out your tongue in a lewd and obscene manner.

"You said we were gonna' play," you pouted as Keegan smiled down at your desperation. Distance did make the heart grow fonder and stitched your desires back together. "Don't you wanna' play with me?"

"Of course I do baby," Keegan pet your pretty face, humming when you nuzzled against his palm. "I'm just trying to figure out which hole I'd rather stretch out tonight."

The gasp and look in your eyes hit him straight in the groin, knowing damn he'd never sunk into that tight ring of muscle as of yet. You'd need preparation, time and training of course and more than just spit as lube.

Keegan shuffled and wound the chain around his thick fist, drawing you up on your knees. "You wanna' play? Let's play."

….

Your noises are music to his ears, long forgotten are the spraying bullets and shouts of commands, what's left, the only sounds that matter are of desire. Not too long ago were you taunting him from over your shoulder. He forced you to stand, about face, hands on the wall as he kicked your legs open. Biting his tongue at the way you arched your back and made your ass jiggle, pushing back against him as he tried to remain as still as possible. Which wasn't easy.

You never took it easy it on Keegan, he was a man of war. As much as you'd tease him, make that pretty noise when you wanted something badly enough to vocalize it, he'd lose his composure. Keeping the balaclava on just a little longer until he couldn't take it anymore.

He tossed you to the bed after that stunt, crawling over you, the clips of his fresh gear snagging on the lace as he covered your mouth with one hand, pinned your hip down with the other and stared into your fluttering eyes.

"You sound so good baby, so damn needy for me. You can hardly stand it, huh? Look at you, already moaning like a slut for me, just for me right? No one else."

You shook your head frantically, mumbling behind his palm until he lifted it away from your lips. "What's that, pet?"

"No one. No one else, I promise. Just you," you licked his hand sensually, keeping your eyes on his face as you laid back down. "I only want you to slut me out."

Keegan chuckled lowly with a nod of approval, pinching your side. "Good girl. Now just keep letting me know how good you feel, yeah? 'm gonna' keep going until you're shaking, making a fucking mess, is that understood?"

Your enthusiastic face made him hard.

Keegan ripped off his mask and got down on his knees, dipping the bed with his weight. He delighted in your squeals and giggles, fitting your legs over his shoulders, licking his lips when he realized the only the thing separating his mouth from your pussy was a pair of flat snap buttons.

Now listen, Keegan is no slouch when it comes to eating pussy. He knows what he's doing. If there were a (pun intended) eating contest, there would be a trophy case decorated with a few honorable medals as well.

The first time he tasted you, you almost broken his nose, bucking up hard into his face. You apologized repeatedly but Keegan just laughed it off, saying that would be the best excuse for his twice broken nose already. He licked his name against your clit. Letter by letter, shapes and swirls as he claimed your cunt.

K was a pointed tongue slashed against the hooded nub, the first E was gentle and flat tongued, the other E was followed by a slow and deliberate suck, G was a sloppy swirl and A and N were hummed to a tune of his own making.

Your hands moving to brush back his hair felt so damn good on his scalp, panting and wiggling for him. It had been two weeks too long. "Please baby that's it, that's it." Your voice was already fucked.

"I know you fucking love it," Keegan grunted against your sex, taking a moment to grace your slick folds with the bridge of his nose, chuckling lowly when you keened. "You just fucking love it when I devour you whole, don't you? Yes you do, tastes so fucking good."

When Keegan got lost in the sauce there was no telling just what he'd say, what string of commands or obscenities he'd loop together in some sensual tapestry that left you breathless.

"Yeah? I taste good?"

Keegan lifted his head, remnants of black grease paint over his pretty eyes looked up at you from between your legs, making them tremble in his grip. "You taste divine, princess."

With that, Keegan brought you to the edge, licking and sucking, toying with your cunt when he tagged in his fingers to join in the fun, those thick fingers breached your hole and stretched you out over and over until you begged. Sobbed for him to let you cum, that you couldn't hold it back any longer and oh how did Keegan love it when you begged!

"Come on sweetie, you can do better than that. Turns me on when you do it…. so fucking beg."

He licked your arousal from his fingers, making an absolute show of it too. "Good job, baby. You did such a good job for me." Keegan groaned as you panted to catch your breath, laid out and limber. He could throw you over his shoulders if he wanted, flip you over with ease, your limp body just going through the motions. Keegan could (and has) had you in every position possible and some that required a bit of technical work, a little fine tuning, angling his hips just so, holding your neck or lacing your fingers together.

Keegan is a man of many talents, in and out of the bedroom as he shifts and takes off his belt-- one handed. Your glassy eyes shine in the dim light from the room, predatory as you drink him in while he undresses.

Your hands are on his waist, burning hot before gives a gentle pat to the outside of your thigh, rolling you over on to your stomach. Sometimes he can't help himself and he gets this primal surge deep in his groin to obliterate you, break you, fuck you raw and stupid until you're a sloppy little mess of limbs and cum.

The smacks to your ass are deliberate and you raise up only to be pushed back down, Keegan grunted at you to keep still, to spread your legs, keep that one bent, just like that.

Keegan edges himself, rock hard in his hand as you dips just the crown of it around the base you, still wet. That bit of pre-cum on the tip is enough to wiggle between your cheeks with ease.

You shudder when he does that thing you like.

His spit slips between you, another glob of it makes it a sound leaving his mouth and hitting his shaft.

"Jesus Keegan, fuck me already. I need it."

"Oh I've got just what you need you dumb little pet," he grabs the leash, tugging on the chain as you pull on the sheets. "Whose my dumb little girl, huh? Is it you, baby? Are you my dummy girl?"

"Fuck. Yes."

Keegan yanks on it, jerking your head back. "Say it. I wanna' hear you say it."

Fuck; he's throbbing.

"I'm your dumb little girl. Just so fucking-- God that feels so good... I'm so dumb, so dumb for your cock, baby. Please."

"Good job." Keegan cooed and then thrusted in deep. "Let's slut you out then, yeah?"

….

God you're pretty. Clawing at the sheets as he fucks you through another orgasm. The clanking, your moans and body bending, arching into his touch like a needy cat. Pet me pet me pet me.

"Baby please," you paw at him, sentences die on your tongue, failing to make it out of the column of your throat. "I'm gonna' cum again." Now on your back with your knees pretty much to your chest, rocking on his cock with his momentum, the leash pulled skin tight.

"Awww of course you are. I can feel you squeezing me, my dumb little girl is getting her pretty little hole fucked out. You're so fucking hot," Keegan moaned out, he dragged a hand down his face, salt and sweat, paint staining his hands before he smeared it over your chest. He's marked you in a number of ways but to see you marked like this, with his mystery always got him going.

"Just like that-- ha!" you drawled, an almost pained 'oh my God' seeped into the air behind clenched teeth. Keegan mimicked you instantly, keeping his hand pressed between your tits. "I'm gonna' cum again, don't stop!"

Keegan's chuckle held desire and humor, fitting one of your legs over his shoulder, smearing his face against your calf. He was tempted to take a bite, too. Those intrusive thoughts always got the better of him.

"You think I could ever stop fucking this pussy, huh? Fuck yeah, squeeze around me again baby. You're such a good girl for me," Keegan was rewarded by his own praise when you leaned up to watch him split you open, spit on your pussy and fuck you harder.

What can I say? The man has stamina.

"Oh my God! Keep going keep going, fuck."

Your legs started to shake the minute Keegan's thumb met your swollen bundle of nerves, throbbing around his cock, crying out for more more more, that you couldn't take it. You came with a whine, sobbing with your release that flooded around the base of his cock. Keegan growled and gave it, chomping down the sensitive meat of your leg.

"Good job, baby. You look so fucking cute when you cum, when you're all brain dead," Keegan hissed through his teeth and pinned you down, heavy hands on your knees as he spread you open. "Open up for me, let me finish inside you. Gonna' fuckin' fill you up, two weeks is bullshit. Stay awake baby," he gently slapped your face in quick succession, jerking your chin to make you look at him and only him. "Don't get all dizzy on me now dummy, you've got some more dick to take."

She's really going to get it now...

[mattodore]

birthday boy 🎂

[carolperkinsexgirlfriend]

Steddie Upside-Down AU Part 96

Part 1 Part 95

Mom makes him go home when he starts dosing on Steve’s hospital bed. But it’s okay because she kisses Steve’s cheek before she leaves, and Eddie and Wayne stay parked by his side. 

The connection’s easier now. It’s like all that time straining for Steve has snapped something into place. He can feel them all the time, a warm buzzing in his chest. He wonders if he runs hot now. If the warmth will diffuse through his whole being, make coats obsolete even in the dead of winter. 

Hopper is waiting for them in the waiting room, El burrowed into his side. She looks wan, and tired, drooping into her extravagant coat, eyeliner running down her cheeks like she’s been crying. Something inside him twists when he looks at her.

Before he can untangle that knot of emotion, Hopper stands up, both hands slapping against his knees first the same way Mike’s dad does before he gets up from his recliner. “You ready to go?” he asks, not looking away from Mom. 

When Will glances up, Mom’s smiling up at Hopper in a way he doesn’t want to think about. The adults talk quietly in front, leaving El to stumble tiredly along beside Will. She’s staring at the side of his face. Will can’t bring himself to look back. 

“Steve,” she says, sounding the word out and making it longer like it still tastes foreign on her tongue. “He is okay?”

When Will gets up the courage to look over, her eyes are big and worried. He smiles at her helplessly. It’s almost funny how innocent she looks; like she’s a bunny dressed up in punk clothes. “He’ll be okay.”

She smiles, small and close lipped, but it still beams out of her like the sun. Will tilts his head to the side and tries to see what Mike sees in her. He wants to hide her in Castle Byers, build a fortress around her, and keep her away from all the lab people for the rest of her life. 

Is that howMike felt, hiding her in his basement, giving her frozen eggos and keeping his mouth shut? 

But then her lips thin and she looks forward again. The feelings vanishes. It’s just El, hia friend, despite how much of Mike’s attention she’d snapped up just by being herself. 

“I’m glad,” she says, looking at Hopper’s broad back as she takes two steps for each one of his. 

It’s quiet after that, the way it always is after; all of them too brittle and bruised and bone-deep tired for conversation.

Hopper’s truck rat-a tat-tats itself to life in the hospital parking lot. The radio croons out something quiet and thrumming until Hopper reaches over to shut it off.

El’s heads smushed into the window, vibrating against the pot-holed roads of Hawkins.

Will’s so tired he’s wide awake. 

He watches the familiar buildings of Hawkins flicker by. It's been a long time since knowing his surroundings brought any comfort. 

Monsters could live behind every door, every tree, every smiling face.

He’s not sure any of them will ever feel safe again. 

Will closes his eyes, locking the scenery out so he can focus on the bundle of warmth in his chest. They’re still huddled together, two sparks merging in his chest. 

The past couple days have been a necessary violation of Eddie’s private feelings. He’d bared them all with love confessions and grasping hands, trying to pull Steve back from the edge of immolation. 

He’s not even sure Steve knows, hopes he does. Steve deserves to hold that love delicately between his palms and choose what to do with it. 

He won’t crush it, even if it’s unreturned. He’ll hold it gently like he always does.

Will doesn’t realize he fell asleep, or that they’d arrived home until he’s in free-fall. It feels like one of those falling dreams where you wake up solidly in the middle of your bed, but this time he really is tumbling, only Jonathan’s arms keeping him from hitting the gravel. 

“Are you okay?” he asks shakily as he pulls Will into his chest, holding him tight enough to hurt. “I’m so sorry.”

“Oh, sweetie,” Mom murmurs, wrapping them both up in her arms, chin landing solidly on Jonathan’s shoulder, sandwiching Will between their bodies. “Everyone’s fine, right Will?”

Will murmurs his affirmation, feeling groggy and confused in the light of day. 

“I was with Nancy,” Jonathan whispers. “I was just with Nancy, and you were–I almost–”

“Shh,” Mom cuts him off, reaching up to cradle his face and smile up at him. Will barely catches the edge of his watering eyes from his restricted vantage point between them. “Everyone’s fine.”

“I should have been he–”

“Jonathan,” Mom interrupts again, sharper this time. “Everyone is fine. You deserve a normal life.”

“But Will–”

“I’m fine!” Will cuts in this time. 

Jonathan pulls back, looking down at him with worried, droopy eyes. “And Steve? Mike said he was possessed.”

Will feels that bundle of warmth in his heart, lets it shine through his smile as he looks up at his brother. “He’ll be okay.” As Jonathan droops with relief, Will feels his smile turn cheeky. “Eddie will never let you forget that you were on a date while we were fighting monsters, though.”

Jonathan closes his eyes, pained while Mom laughs. 

It’s not until they’re walking toward the front door that Will notices the lack of demo-dog bodies. There’s still puddles of black oil-slick blood, but everything else looks normal. Who covered their tracks? The lab? Hopper?

He settles down for the debrief, pillowing his head on Jonathan’s shoulder as Hopper’s even tones flit through his brain. 

Maybe familiar places no longer hold any comfort, but Jonathan’s bony frame is enough to lull him into a peaceful sleep.

Part 97

Taglist: @deany-baby @estrellami-1 @altocumulustranslucidus @evillittleguy @carlprocastinator1000 @hallucinatedjosten @goodolefashionedloverboi @newtstabber @lunabyrd @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @manda-panda-monium @disrespectedgoatman @finntheehumaneater @ive-been-bamboozled @harringrieve @grimmfitzz @is-emily-real @dontstealmycake @angeldreamsoffanfic @a-couchpotato @5ammi90 @mac-attack19 @genderless-spoon @kas-eddie-munson @louismeds @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme @pansexuality-activated @ellietheasexylibrarian @nebulainajar @mightbeasleep @neonfruitbowl @beth--b @silenzioperso @best-selling-show @v3lv3tf0x @bookworm0690 @paintsplatteredandimperfect @wonderland-girl143-blog @nerdsconquerall @sharingisntkaren @canmargesimpson @bananahoneycomb @rainwaterapothecary @practicallybegging

[astrolotte]

Genuinely intrigued by the potential of Peri and Irep's dynamic but only in a platonic way so I end up not vibing with the fandom's portrayal of it 😔😔😔

(No but listen LISTEN they were kinda-almost-friends when we last saw them in FOP, yeah? Now they're enemies, with both actively fighting each other, and Irep going so far as to try and kill Peri's parents. What happened? When? What influenced it? Did they ever become friends, or did it nosedive the moment the cameras turned off? What about Sammy? How do Irep's parents factor into this? Could it ever be fixed? There's just so much we haven't seen, and romance just feels like too easy a solution to me. Let their friendship be easy to break, fragile. Let them have to work to keep the connection. Fairies and Anti-Fairies are literally made to be opposites, so what happens when two genuinely and truly become friends?)

((and yeah I guess a lot of this could factor into a romantic angle but ALAS the fandom seems to be leaning heavily into the funny toxic yaoi angle 😔 I don't mind it! By all means, please have your very harmless fun! But it ain't my jam :P Perhaps I'll have to write a oneshot myself...))

(((see tags for more rambles i guess. whoops a bitch spoke too much in there as he always does)))

[brutal-nemesis]

big question!! dude can we please see a scene in the AU where castys has his tongue cut off and he has to deal with that? like man, the shock and the pain and the fuckin grief? and neteri just being herself ofc

anyway the latest erebus chapter was heartbreaking you’re so good at being awful to these lads (i can’t stop reading)

Thank you I try,,,,,

Okay strap in fellas I think this is banger as hell I had a great time and let me know if you have any other requests for the AU!

Castys & Terror AU Masterlist - Castys Masterlist - Next→

Ingredients: shockingly, tongue gets cut off! some suffocation as well

Castys wasn’t great at sitting in chairs normally, something his parents had always reprimanded him for, but, hey, they’d never taken it as far as to fucking tie him to one, and Castys was grateful. This shit was uncomfortable. Like, yeah, the rough ropes around his wrists and ankles were tight and itchy, but also the position just sucked. Not that he’d rather be standing or something-

“You must be Castys!” The door had swung open, and now this little lady with a white coat on was walking up to him. 

“Yes, I’m Castys,” he said flatly as she scurried behind him before coming back without her bag. And then she just…stared at him. Castys wasn’t sure what she was looking at, since there really wasn’t much to see, just, like, him. Eventually her eyes wandered up to his, and she jumped in place a bit.

“Oh, right, I’m Neteri.” She stuck her hand out like she expected him to shake it.

“You know I’m tied up, right?”

“Ah. Yeah.” Her skin was dark enough that it wasn’t immediately obvious that she was blushing, but Castys was pretty sure she was. She ended up awkwardly grabbing his right hand and shaking it a bit. “I, um, I’ll be preparing you for this afternoon. Sorry, I’m just a bit nervous.”

“Well, you’re not tied to a chair so I think you’ll be okay.”

She laughed. “You’re right, you’re right, but I’m just…I think I’m going to do something I’m not supposed to do.”

Castys raised an eyebrow. “Let me go because I’m funny?”

Neteri rolled her eyes, but she was smiling, so clearly she did think he was funny. “No, you’re staying put, sorry bud. But I think I’m going to keep you. You’re kind of perfect.” She tried to cup his cheek in her hand, but Castys leaned away, staring at her with wide eyes.

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” His mouth was really dry all of a sudden, he wasn’t perfect, he was a fuck-up, a useless heir, that had been his goal, he wasn’t good at anything he was supposed to be good at, he wasn’t well-mannered or polite, he had a huge fucking scar on his face and a lopsided smile because of it, he was filthy and vulgar and didn’t have any interest in getting married he was absolutely anything but perfect. So why the hell did she want him?

“It’s not important right now. You’ve got a big day ahead of you!” She clapped her hands, dismissing the subject entirely. He wanted to press her further, but after seeing the lovely object she pulled out of her pocket, everything else was forgotten.

“No. Absolutely not.”

“Aw, what are you gonna do about it, Castys? I thought you were tied to a chair!” Great, now it was his turn to feel his face grow hot, because, yeah, what the fuck was he gonna do?

Normally, he doubted he’d immediately recognize it for what it was, but today, right now, after just being told this lady wanted to keep him, it was instantly clear. And Neteri was right, he was only able to squirm uselessly and lean away as she wrapped the collar around his neck without much trouble. His first swallow after she’d sealed it shut felt horrible, and he absolutely did not want to get used to it.

“See, it’s not so bad. It looks cute on you!” She ruffled his hair, which only made Castys more uncomfortable.

“I don’t want to be cute. I’m not a fucking dog.” He wasn’t sure whether the collar was part of Neteri’s weird desires or just to humiliate him, but either way he hated it.

“No, you’re not, but you’re also not a prince anymore, and you’re the property of the Xernan Empire, and this is a good reminder of that,” Neteri said as she walked around behind him, probably to her bag. Castys rolled his eyes. He didn’t need to be reminded that he wasn’t a prince, since it was his favorite new development in all of this. Unless…unless it wasn’t just a reminder for him, but for everyone else, too…He really, really hoped there wasn’t going to be some sort of public display, but given how Neteri’d said he had a “big day” ahead…fuck, that was probably the case, huh?

“Now, I’m going to…oh, I might get in so much trouble for this,” Neteri muttered as she stared at the floor, standing in front of him once again. She had leather gloves on, which would have been nice earlier when she was touching him, and she was holding…a pair of shears? He didn’t think she’d put on gloves if she was just going to cut his hair, and given that she thought she might get in trouble for it, it seemed like she was going to…maim him somehow. Castys curled his hands into fists as Neteri slapped her cheeks with her palms, still talking to herself. “No, I’m going to do this. I deserve it. It’s not that far off from what the emperor wants. Okay,” she held the shears up and gave Castys a concerningly bright smile. “Any last words?”

For once, Castys didn’t take the opportunity to speak.

Instead, he locked his jaw shut tight, teeth clenched so hard it hurt, lips pressed together, walls of protection around his tongue. 

That’s what she wanted, wasn’t it?

Neteri cocked her head, watching him. “Nothing to say all of a sudden? No jokes?” Her smile disappeared as her eyes narrowed. “You figured it out, didn’t you, Castys? What I’m going to do to you.”

He didn’t bother nodding.

Neteri stepped up to him, her knee on the chair in between his legs, leaning over him, her face right above his as he craned back to avoid her. “You’re going to have to get used to obeying me, Castys.” The cold metal of the shears rested on his cheek. “So open your mouth.”

If there’s one thing Castys was good at, it was disobeying orders.

After a few moments of neither of them moving, Neteri pinched Castys’s nose shut with her free hand, not saying a word. Fine, he could play that game. Hold on as the pressure in his chest built, as his head started to spin, as his vision started to darken, every fiber of his being screaming at him to just give in to the inevitable and take a breath. He could do it quick, a little gasp, fast enough that she wouldn’t be able to do anything. Okay, three, two…

The exhale was shaky, but it was fine, just a quick inhale as he snapped his mouth shut-

His teeth scraped against metal, the sensation sending shivers down his spine.

Neteri stared at him with a detached coldness as she rotated the shears, forcing his jaw open wide, wide enough for her to stick her hand in and grab his tongue, pulling it out despite his attempts to pull it back, turning the shears to the side now, opening them up, the cold blades-

Snip.

Castys’s mouth was hot it was burning he was choking the smell of blood was so strong he was suffocating on it her hand was still in his mouth her fingers pressed against his wound magic piercing through his jaw he’d scream if he had the air and then that was it her hand was gone he lurched forward coughing and spitting blood and saliva all down the front of the threadbare shirt he’d been given and once he saw the discarded little piece of pink flesh on the floor he couldn’t look at anything else he couldn’t believe that was it it was gone it wasn’t in his mouth his mouth was empty there was only the blood still dripping out and when Neteri laid a hand on his back he wanted to growl at her not to touch him but he couldn’t he couldn’t say anything anymore he was quiet nothing to say no thoughts or opinions of his own just how his parents had wanted him-

“It’s alright, Castys, just breathe. It was a little more difficult than it needed to be, but you did it.” And why did it need to be at all? “Just two more things left today and then you can rest. And then hopefully…” Her hand slid up, resting on the back of his neck, on that awful collar, and Castys wanted to scream. He never, ever wanted to belong to her.

But what he wanted didn’t matter anymore.

Castys was dragged out and whipped and branded and left out on display, brought back and patched up by Neteri and given soup that he couldn’t taste, and when the door slammed shut behind her, he finally allowed himself to cry.

His back and chest hurt, of course, the wounds aggravated no matter how he moved or what position he laid in, but he could deal with it. It was nothing compared to what he’d lost, the little pocket of empty space inside his mouth.

Words were all he’d ever have to really fight back, complaining when he was forced to do things he didn’t want to, scaring off all the suitors his parents picked out, jokes keeping him calm when he was scared or upset, even when he couldn’t do anything he could still say something, make sure everyone knew how he felt, and now he was more helpless than ever before and he couldn’t say a single fucking thing. 

He didn’t even know where he was going to end up, either sold off to some asshole or left in Neteri’s clutches, and no matter what, he wasn’t going to be treated like a person. The collar made it pretty clear. He was less than human now, a pet, a lab rat, property, something that didn’t need to have thoughts or opinions anymore. 

He’d rather be a prince after all.

Castys Cult: @as-a-matter-of-whump​ @blackrosesandwhump​ @fanmanga1357-blog​​ @thehopelessopus​ @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi

@hearse-song​ @muddy-swamp-bitch @whumpasaurus101 @yet-another-heathen​​ @galaxywhump 

@starnight-whump​ @his-unspoken-words​ @misspelledwitch @suspicious-whumping-egg​ @pumpkin-spice-whump​ 

@painsandconfusion @i-can-even-burn-salad @befuddled-calico-whump​ @whumpinggrounds​ @whump-queen​

@whumpedydump

[good-beanswrites]

I’m thinking about the angst of the restraints headcanon again. There’s the two with the least physically violent crimes, and they rank relatively low in strength. There’s the child who was violent but had to be really crafty about it; she’s the weakest of all of them. And the most dangerous of the guilty prisoners cannot be restrained.

This makes me so emotional!!! All three are the smallest of their circles. Two of them are extremely ordinary people who have never experienced/expressed physical violence before. One hadn't even fathomed the idea of someone dying until they actually did. And yet, they're subjected to the type of restraints you'd expect to see on someone who is uncontrollably violent. The fact that prisoners who committed very gruesome murders can walk free (including Mikoto) just adds insult to injury. I still couldn't everything into words, but here's a Mahiru-centric drabble featuring the same thoughts. It takes place after T1 closes but before the attacks.

“Where are our rights?”

Fuuta’s shout caused Mahiru to wince. She perched on her bedding, watching the two prisoners she’d invited to her cell. It hadn’t been the fun kind of invitation, though. Back in school, she always wanted to have parties and dates back at her place. Moving to the city, she imagined what it would be like to make university friends and take them back home with her to talk, eat, and have fun. 

Sitting in her dim gray cell with Fuuta and Amane, all of them held fast by complex sets of restraints, was not what she’d had in mind.

Amane knelt in the corner. Her arms were crossed, as if pouting, though the opposite was true. A moment ago her eyes had lowered in prayer, but it was difficult to find any peace of mind now. Fuuta snapped and shouted as he paced the length of the cell bars. They were unlocked, but like the others, he didn’t feel like being out in front of everyone. He’d give his uniform a violent jerk every now and then, but it didn’t do any good. Between his strides and growls, he made Mahiru think of those poor wild animals they keep at the circus.

“Take it easy, Fuuta.” She mustered up a smile. “Come rest with us.”

“I can’t believe you two. You’re just gonna sit here and take it? I didn’t do a fucking thing! They’re acting like I’m some big danger to society,” he yanked his arms again, to no avail. “All I did was type some things onto a screen. I’m not gonna go around stabbing anyone or anything. And you, you didn’t hurt anyone either!”

He nodded his head to Mahiru. If her arms weren’t already folded over her chest, she would have hugged herself anyway. 

“Well… I did hurt him in the end… I broke his heart badly enough that… I mean, he…”

Fuuta made a disgusted sound. “That’s all stupid romance stuff. I’m saying, you never stabbed him. Never strangled him. Never poisoned his food, or –”

“Oh god, no! How horrible…”

“Exactly! From what we’ve heard, it sounds like Haruka killed someone with his bare hands. I think Muu had a knife or something. Shidou had a whole arsenal of grisly doctor tools. Kotoko has openly talked about how she beat that guy to death. Why are they allowed to walk free while we’re tied down like wild animals?”

Mahiru was glad she hadn’t mentioned the circus.

“And Amane! It’s not like she did anything violent, and here she is!”

“That is not true.”

Both paused as Amane spoke up for the first time. 

“Eh?”

“While I disagree with my verdict, the restraints make sense.” The others still stared blankly. As matter-of-fact as always, she continued. “I killed with my own hands. I used the amount of force I was instructed to. Just as the sinner fears the wrath of heaven, I can understand how the godless warden would fear my justice.”

Fuuta’s passion wavered, but Mahiru could feel her heart ache for the girl. “Oh Amane… I had no idea. To be pushed to the point of violence at your age…”

“I am not to be pitied. As I said, I am dangerous, and proud to be. I am doing god’s work. All heroes must be dangerous.”

Fuuta grunted, but said nothing. Mahiru gave her a gentle smile. “It’s not pity. Even if you were dangerous, it’s horrible to restrain someone like you. You’ve already had to brave so much, as the smallest of the bunch.”

She looked between the two. A sad laugh escaped her. “Now that I think of it, I guess we’re all the smallest here, hm? Aside from maybe Muu, we don’t have much height or strength on the others…”

“That’s what I’ve been saying!” Fuuta cried. “The fuck do they think we’re going to do?” Mahiru was just glad he’d focused on that rather than the fact she’d just called him weak. 

Voices raised in conversation down the hallway. Mikoto’s laugh echoed faintly into the cell.  

It warmed Mahiru to hear. Things had been so hard on him here. Though it had been frightening to hear him shouting at the restraints til his voice was raw – well, it wasn’t him shouting – it had been a relief when he appeared free and relaxed the following day. He seemed sheepish that he wasn’t able to help the others, having no memory of his escape. Mahiru just kept telling him how happy she was for him.

Fuuta didn’t share in the sentiment. “Meanwhile, Mikoto gets to stroll around free, and he beat the shit out of Es! He could snap and kill any one of us here, and they don’t even give a damn. But ooohhh, god forbid the guy who’s never been violent a day in his life is allowed to use his own two hands!”

The harshness of his voice wasn’t doing his argument many favors. Still, his words were beginning to get through to Mahiru. 

She’d worked so hard to be a model citizen. She was supposed to have a perfect life. She could cook, clean, sew, and take care of children. She did herself up every day; she was never a slob or a slut. She was generous to everyone she met. She showered the world around her in love. Wasn’t it unfair that her hands were tied like some common criminal? What was all that effort for – being patient when people upset her, being kind even when she disagreed with someone, all of that – if she was going to end up in the same place as someone who had stabbed another out of sheer malice?

Amane didn’t seem to be whirling with the same doubts. She closed her eyes once more. “It is simply a trial from heaven. We may be small, but all of us have an internal strength that will carry us through the ordeal.”

“I don’t think it’s any sort of religious thing, but you’re right,” Fuuta puffed his chest out. “Trials like this only make people stronger!” 

“Do you think so?” Mahiru wasn’t sure if she was asking either of them or just musing to herself. It was a nice thought. This was all part of destiny, something meant to be that would make her stronger in the end. 

But she wasn’t so sure she believed in destiny anymore. It hadn’t quite worked out the first time. 

“Hell yeah!” Fuuta must have assumed she was in fact asking him. He gave a wide, toothy grin. “It’s not like we can get any weaker, right? The warden better watch out next trial – they’ve got a big storm coming!”

[companyofvamps]

what I love about the buffyverse as a writer is that literally nothing’s off the table.

Giles can wreak havoc as his teenage self and sleep with Buffy’s mom with no consequences because candy magic. Willow can turn into a ghost for a night because costume magic. Buffy can read minds for a hot second because demons. Xander can almost get eaten by a teacher who’s actually a prey mantis because why not. Or make all women fall in love with him to the point of mob backed murder because love spell.

[dayurno]

riko in kayleigh’s care au yeahh…

riko: KEVIN WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME FREAK LEAVE ME ALONE??? *terrified for his life*

kevin, an autistic 7 year old: i have this rock in my pocket. for you

AND HE DOES............ riko he has this rock in his pocket. for you.

its cute to me it really is i think they're so funny and kevin is seriously so autistic. riko at this point hasn't interacted with any other children his age outside of little league and kevin is not just patently unusual he's also 1) super intense 2) loud 3) excited beyond belief over having someone to play with. SO YOU UNDERSTAND HOW HAPPY HE IS. most children would be happy to get a brother no matter what but this child in specifically has spent a lot of time with nannies or in adult-world events with his mother so of course he's happy to have a friend to accompany him!!! are you crazy!!!!!! the way i see it on riko's first day with the days (heh) kevin teaches him approximately three hundred different games in a span of two hours that riko either brutally rejects for not being exy (which kevin agrees with but also says they have to play other games because not all children know exy) (he's shocked by this too) or just outright doesn't understand because kevin's accent is so thick :)

BUT I THINK despite riko's fragile state and the ghosts that will inevitably follow him well into adulthood, it is a happy childhood.......... it's hard and at points feels hopeless, but when riko grows older he does look back and understands kevin's intentions and maybe even is a little grateful that someone was willing to reach out to his angry terrified traumatized 7 year old self. i think this k & r are not as close as they were in canon for a myriad of reasons, the biggest one being that riko's relationship to kevin and kayleigh is pretty complex because he feels like an outsider, but they're also a lot more well-meaning towards each other. they don't understand the other as well as they'd like to (i'd wager kevin will spend years and years trying to understand riko and failing to) but i do think they get impossibly closer after (sorry) kayleigh dies, which i can imagine happening in their late 30s to mid 40s. they'll always be brothers <3:)

[x-gon-give-it]

Writing a smuttyWriting a saucy one-shot for a friend and WHOOO been a hot minute since I've written smut. Just finished writing/editing a blowjob scene and I think it's going pretty well ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ

Crossing my fingers that I can get this posted by the end of the week! It's going to be a precursor one-shot to my assassin Spideypool fic Misfire (link included if you're interested).

If not, you wont' need to read the main fic to understand the one-shot and vice versa. This is just for fun :3

[memento-morri-writes]

I've been thinking a lot about how Rook's reunion with his former mentor, Zara, is going to go, and since I can't predict what the DM is going to have her do or say, I can only dwell on what I know is going to happen. Which happens to include taking off the illusion ring that's been hiding his injuries from her. So have a snippet of the description I have planned for that moment:

tw for description of (mostly healed) injuries

He hesitates, twisting a ring on his finger. Looking at it more closely, she can tell it’s very finely crafted, and must have been very expensive. A large emerald is set into the band. Rook sighs, and pulls the ring off his finger in one quick motion.  Immediately she’s struck by the difference in his appearance as the illusion melts away. He looks awful. His warm, healthy skin fades to a dull and sickly grey. There’s huge bags under his deeply sunken eyes, and his cheeks are hollowed, as though they have been carved out by an overeager sculptor. He looks like he’s recently risen from the grave.  While he was thin before, now she can see his ribs under the skin, and his collarbones are exaggeratedly pronounce. Thin white lines left by dozens upon dozens of recently healed cuts are scattered across his body. On top of that, faded bruises cover most of his visible skin, a mottled mosaic of purple and yellow. They’re clearly days, maybe weeks old, and she can only begin to imagine what they must have looked like when fresh. Bandages are barely visible under his shirt, wrapping around his back, hinting at even more injuries.

[seleneprince]

Not me coming back from Tcoaal and realizing the potential parallels between the main characters and the akashi siblings (-takeomi).

TW: Dark themes ahead, including manipulation, gaslighting, dubious consent, incestuous behaviour, sexual innuendos and overall pure toxic energy. Beware.

Both of them being raised by a neglectful and bordeline abusive caretaker (takeomi didn't give a fuck about haruchiyo's wellbeing and he even saw senju as a way to gain more power for himself). Haruchiyo being forced to take care of Senju and act like her pseudo-parent most of the time when takeomi can't be bothered to do so. Both growing closer and very dependent of each other because they have no one else to turn to and takeomi prefers to let haruchiyo handle it. Senju seems to be the favourite, but Takeomi can't stand tears and has little to no patience, so he passes her off to Haruchiyo whenever she gets difficult. It's only when she's "behaving" that Takeomi pays attention to her.

It was Haruchiyo who kissed her scrapped knees and cuts when she hurt herself to "take the pain away". It was up to him to read her bedtime stories when she couldn't sleep, to wipe her nose when it was runny, to stay by her side when she was sick. Takeomi went out of his way to make young Haruchiyo raise Senju so he didn't have to himself. And while he loves his sister more than anything, he also resents her, because he's being forced to sacrifice his childhood for her. There are times, when he's alone with his thoughts, that he wishes she didn't exist. This causes him nightmares.

Imagine them having to share a room because they struggle with money (their parents are clearly nowhere in the picture), so takeomi makes them sleep in the same room for years to save space. Senju sneaking into Haru's bed when she's scared and he always lets her, with complaints and sighs, but they always end up asleep in each other's arms. It becomes their routine, specially when they know Takeomi wouldn't ever listen to their fears or worries, let alone try to reassure them.

"It's okay, Senju. We have each other. That's all we need", he's caressing her hair and she believes him.

Imagine them after the "plane incident", when Haru's mental state begins to deteriorate. As expected, Takeomi doesn't try to comfort him, inmediately blaming him once again, and Senju feels so terribly guilty she cries about it. She eventually confesses Haruchiyo the truth and his resentment grows out of the surface. Their once sweet bond slowly grows into something twisted and toxic, because now he hates her but he still loves her too and can't bring himself to stay apart too long. Senju is very wary of him now but still seeks his presence. He tries to push her away, hurting her in places where Takeomi can't see, only to heal her himself later and comforting her like he's not the one who did it. She doesn't dare to speak up, mainly because she feels she deserves it. Haru encourages those thoughts.

"You see what you made me do, sister? This is your fault. Why do you piss me off?"

"I have these scars because of you. I'm gonna have them forever. You shoud make up for it, don't you think?"

"C'mon here, you crybaby, I'll patch you up. I didn't mean to go that far, okay? Here, let me fix it"

When he's not being a jerk, he becomes that caring and loving older brother Senju knows and craves. Those short moments of peace and safety with him are the reason she doesn't cut off ties completely. She's holding unto the hope that her brother will change.

As time passes, he becomes more and more possessive. He isolates Senju to make sure she only has him to rely on, terrorizing her friends (specially the boys) and anyone that shows interest in her. In return, she's also possessive with him and hates when he hangs out with others because it feels like he's "abandoning her". She throws tantrums and is willing to fight back if it means getting him to pay attention to her. He relents most of the time, because he loves seeing her desperate for him and it reassures him that she'll never leave him. He still has outbursts of jealousy, tho.

"What the fuck were you doing talking to him? You really believed he'll love you, that he'll take you out on dates and that bullshit? Don't make me laugh, only I can love someone as wrecked as you"

"Nobody is gonna treat you better than me. Nobody is gonna know you like I do, ever. You don't need anyone else but me. Why would you want other boys when I'm right here?"

It's not hard for Haru to convince her that it's normal for siblings to cuddle and even shower together. She doesn't know anything else, she has no one to tell her it's wrong. When puberty hits him and he starts to experience certain needs, there's only one female he's close enough to imagine having that sort of intimacy with. In his mind, it makes perfect sense. Senju is the only girl in his life, he knows he can touch her without problem, and besides, she fucking owes him that. After everything he's put up with for her, all the sacrifices he did and the mistreatment he endured from Takeomi, it's only fair that Senju lets him have this, right? He believes he's entitled to her in every form and sense.

Senju doesn't think much when he sneaks his hands under her shirt to feel her up, or when he watches her get dressed in creepy silence, or when he makes her sit on his lap. After all, this is what siblings do all the time right? Haruchiyo is just being affectionate in his own way. She's only taken aback when he kisses her for the first time, but she quickly relaxes because "this is what siblings do. We're just practicing, dear sister". Besides, Haru is practically the only male she has contact with (Takeomi is mostly absent and Haru makes sure she doesn't talk to other boys), so when she reaches puberty, she begins to feel sexually attracted to him. Something he notices and enjoys greatly.

"C'mon, aren't you going to let your big bro' touch you? If I don't show you how it's done, how else are you gonna learn? Big brothers do this all the time, y'know? Who better to teach you these things than me?"

"What? You're feeling shy now? I used to change your diapers and bath you for years. I know every part of your body like it's my own. Now get closer, I wanna see you"

"You should be glad to have such a good brother to help you with this. I'm doing this out of my affection for you. Yeah? You like how I'm touching you? Let me hear you then."

Their feelings for each other are messy, twisted and so complex that not even they can fully untangle them. They love each other, that much they know. Haru wants to kill her often, they know it too. Senju wishes he didn't exist, they know that too. But in the end, they also know they need each other more than anything. Not like the air they breathe, more like the smoke of the cigarettes. It's slowly killing them from the inside, but they're addicted to it. They can't exist in a world without the other.

Eventually, his undying devotion for Mikey wins and he runs away, leaving Senju behind. She never forgives him. He never forgets her. Somehow he still manages to be present in her life, if only from afar, but his control has weakened and now Senju is finally free to make friends. To have her own life separated from him. And the more she sees the world without his influence, the more she realizes just how fucked up and how wrong everything he did was. He talks to other people and finds out that kind of behaviour it's, in fact, not normal in siblings. That it's actually considered unnatural and forbidden and so incredibly disgusting. She feels asshamed and embarrassed for it, her perception of Haruchiyo finally changes to realize how he manipulated her all this time. Senju decides it's for the best to cut off contact with him, trying desesperately to bury their sins.

But at this point, he's not letting her go. Ever. It doesn't matter how hard she tries to push him away, he only pulls her back harder. Because despite all the shit that's gone down between them, he still knows her better than anyone and they still have no one else that understands them the way each other do.

And so that's how their relationship goes on through the years, with hatred and regret and love interwined. She's not allowed to move on, but neither does he. They're on opposite sides of the war, but they'll still hold unto each other like their lives depend of it (because they do) with their bloody mouths and bruised knuckles from the brutal fights. Because this wreck of a relationship is all that they have left, as twisted and painful as it is.

They'll pretend there's nothing to it, carrying on with their respective lives away from the other, but eventually, there's always a moment when their hearts beat their brains and they fall into that sick, forbidden dance once again, forgetting about the world and their responsabilities and the tragic childhood they share.

"I told you, didn't I, little sis? Nobody will understand you like I do"

"You're mine to break and care for"

[laniidae-passerine]

I’m finding that the laziest moments of Doctor Who’s writing are the ‘retroactive twists’ - when the show runner reveals something happened way back over there, in the past, before they were even running the show. And we swear it happened, way over there, far back, and you didn’t see it because of reasons but it’s definitely been happening! And it totally makes sense and I absolutely didn’t just pull it out my ass to justify my paper thin plotline! All this kind of writing does is make me miss self contained season length plots. We’ve had people complaining that Moffat was guilty of the “this thing is big and scary and it’s going to happen, oh god it’s showing up, we’re going to discover what it truly is….. next season!!!!!!” plotline (and yes. he was. twelve is my fav doctor but yeah Moffat loved a mysterious horse and a big stick) but now suddenly when RTD gets out his own mysterious horse and a big stick, it’s got to be genius! everything is eventually going to make sense! and we’re absolutely not being had by a man who used to be able to write this show and is now a hack!