#wanted to draw for so long but i got really busy and tired the past few weeks

[jlan22]

hi guys. quick wimd drawing cuz it's finally the weekends and i can finlally draw more teehee

[cloudybarnes]

Private Encounters

Pairing: Cardan Greenbriar x reader

Summary: you were tired of Cardan constantly attacking you and your friends. one day, though, Cardan asks to speak with you privately, and no good things could come from the prince of elfhame wanting to speak with you with no one else around

Word Count: 2.4k

Masterlist

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"Hurry up, you guys! We're gonna be late again!" Taryn whisper-shouted as you and Jude trailed behind her towards the courtyard.

Usually, you two went alone on your adventures, but Taryn decided she wanted to be spontaneous, too, and wanted to join along. Unfortunately, she didn't seem to have that much fun, and urged you back to class almost as soon as you got there.

"Who cares if we're late?" Jude rolled her eyes. "It's not like anyone would really care."

"Just because they don't like us, doesn't mean I want to draw their attention. Who knows what they'll do." Taryn shifted the picnic basket of food between her hands, nervously. She was always the most cautious of you three; always fearing what they would say or do to you guys.

You scoffed, "Taryn, let's be real. Even if we were there on time and minded our own business, Cardan and his little fanclub would still find some reason to bother us."

Jude chuckled, "he's so insufferable. What I wouldn't do to wipe that idiotic grin off his face."

You laughed, "I'm right there with you. It's like his greatest pleasure is being annoying."

"I don't know." Taryn slows her speed walk to match pace with Jude and I. "I feel like Cardan mostly has it out for you, now, (Y/N)."

You rolled my eyes.

"Oh yeah," Jude agreed. "Ever since we became friends, he's like diverted the hatred for us onto you."

You laughed, "Wow, thanks guys. Who knew being your friend would make a prince despise me."

Jude laughed too. "I don't think it was all our fault. You're human, so he would have hated you anyway."

"That's so reassuring, thanks for that."

Jude smirked, "anytime."

When we finally emerged onto the courtyard where class was taking place, most everyone ignored you, save for the professor.

"Ah," he said, "nice of you three to join us. Please find a seat so we can continue on with our lessons of astronomy."

Taryn bowed her head to keep from looking at anyone. You noticed Jude did not bow her head, but she would not look at the other students.

You, however, must be an idiot to not follow along with them, because your gaze falls straight to Cardan, who is staring back at you with much ferocity.

As the even bigger idiot you are, you do not avert your gaze, but simply glare back at him. To that, and small, devilish grin grows on his face. It almost seems like an invite of this little game you play. He hates you and your friends, goes out of his way to torment you three, and for that, you refuse to back down. Sometimes, you think he likes that you fight him so much.

"(Y/N)," Taryn calls, quietly as to avoid too much attention. She waves you over. Only then do you realize you've been staring at Cardan so long that Jude and Taryn have already set up the blanket and started spreading out the food.

Your cheeks heat as you walk the few feet to where they are sitting. You can hear Cardan snicker as you walk past him and Nicasia.

"What were you thinking!" Taryn scolds as you finally sit down on the blanket. Your professor continues with his lecture, but you don't even bother to pay attention to him.

You shrug, "I'm not really sure. I just can't stand him so much it makes me crazy."

Jude laughs at that. "I'm so glad we're friends, (Y/N). I think I'd go crazy if I didn't have someone else to share my hatred for Cardan with."

You giggle, "well it's a good thing I'm here, then, huh?"

"I don't think anyone is happy you're here."

Looking up from where you're sitting, you see Nicasia and Cardan looming down over you. Seems like the lesson is over as everyone else has abandoned the courtyard.

"Oh, Nicasia, always a pleasure." You rolled your eyes as you stood up. Behind you, you hear the shuffling of Jude standing and pulling Taryn up with here. "To what do we owe you coming over here and bothering us for?"

She smirked, "I have no reason for being near you filthy mortals other than to make sure you stay in your place. You don't belong here. You're frail, and worthless, and someone needs to remind you of that."

You mocked her with a laugh, "is that really all you've got?"

Taryn let out a quiet gasp.

Nicasia narrowed her eyes. "What did you say?"

You shrugged. "All I'm saying is you give the same excuse every time you come over here. 'I'm putting you in your place', 'make sure you know what a worthless mortal you are'. Blah, blah, blah. It's very redundant, Nicasia, and quite truthfully, it's just tiresome." You said condescendingly.

The fire is her eyes was hot. Her fists balled at her side as she glared at you.

Now, it's not like you were looking for trouble, or that you wanted anything bad to happen to you or your friends. You just could not stand the way she and Cardan always came over to you and caused problems.

The slap was expected. Your cheek burned as Nicasia's hand left your face. Taryn couldn't hold back the very audible gasp that left her lips. Looking back to your friends, Taryn looked utterly frightened, and Jude looked angrier than you'd ever seen her.

Right as Nicasia was about to slap you again, Cardan interrupted her.

"Nicasia," Cardan warned as he lifted his hand, "that is quite enough."

You scoffed. "Oh, and since when are you ever the peace maker?"

Cardan smirked, "Since Nicasia decided she was going to slap you. I quite like your face the way it is."

All heads turned to Cardan as he said that. Nicasia looked hurt, Taryn looked almost as confused as you felt, and Jude just looked disgusted.

You narrowed my eyes at Cardan, despite your confusion. "What games are you playing at, Greenbriar?"

His eyebrows shot up in delightful surprise. A cheeky smirk playing on his lips. "I have no games, (Y/L/N)." He spat out your last name like it disgusted but also intrigued him.

He looked between Nicasia, Jude and Taryn. "You, leave us. I have a few words for (Y/N)."

Jude and Taryn looked at each other, confused and contemplating if they should leave or not. You stood your ground though.

"I'll be fine, guys. I'll just meet you back at Madoc's, okay?" You tried to reassure them, though you weren't exactly sure what you were getting yourself into. All you knew was that you didn't want Cardan to know he frightened you.

Jude nodded her head. "We won't be far. And Cardan," she turned to him, "if you so much as touch one hair on her head, I will-"

"Oh relax, would you, Jude? Always resolving your issues with murder." Cardan rolled his eyes. "Leave us. Now."

Jude glared at Cardan before turning to you and giving you a reassuring look. Just as quickly, she turned away and pulled Taryn off with her.

"And you," Cardan said as he turned to Nicasia. "I believe I ordered you away, as well."

Nicasia looked shocked. "Me? Why would I need to be sent away? Whatever punishment you have for the way she spoke to me, I want-"

"Leave, Nicasia. I won't ask you again."

Stunned, Nicasia's mouth hung open just slightly as she looked between you and Cardan. With a 'hmph', Nicasia turned on her heel and strutted away, leaving behind just Cardan and you.

The two of you stood there in silence. You gazed up at him, trying to decipher why he could possibly want to speak with you alone. Maybe he wants to kill you. Maybe he's grown tired of this cat and mouse game you have going on.

"What do you want, Cardan?"

He smirked, and took a daring step closer to you. "I just wanted to talk with you. You're... interesting. I find you intriguing to say the least."

You raised my brow in confusion. "You find me intriguing? Now I know you're toying with me. What do you really want, Cardan?"

He scoffed. "Is it that hard for you to admit that I might find you interesting?"

"How interesting could I possibly be? I'm mortal, remember? Can't believe you would forget, not after you and your friends made it your entire personalities to constantly remind me of my mortality and how worthless you believe me to be."

Cardan's smirk only grew. "You are quite right. You're mortal. Mortals by nature are fragile, slow, susceptible to our tricks, and yet you seem to be quite the opposite."

Your eyebrows shot up, completely shocked by this sort-of compliment you just received from the Prince of Elfhame.

Cardan continued before you could even get a word out. "I dislike mortals quite a bit. I think they are weak. They have little skill that is worth anything, and they are often succumbed to the nature of our people. You, however, are quite different, (Y/N)."

He took a tender step closer to you. Your breath was caught in your throat. Cardan had never shown any type of interest in you. You thought he'd never actually shown anything other than disgust towards you, but maybe you were wrong.

Maybe all of those teasing smirks and cruel comments were him testing you, trying to figure out just how far he could push you.

"You've stood up to me. You've been given every chance to back down. I've seen how far you are willing to go to defend yourself and those little friends of yours. I find it admirable in a way."

You force out a laugh. "You find it admirable? Everything you consider so 'strong' and 'admirable' about me is what I've had to do to survive this place. You've done nothing but make living here just that much harder than it already is for mortals."

You strode closer to Cardan, persistence on your face. His eyes widened slightly, but the daring smirk never faltered from his lips.

Just as you two were chest to chest, you spoke, "answer now, Cardan, what is it you really wanted to tell me?"

"I've already told you, (Y/N). I think you're admirable. I think you're intriguing. I think there is something about you that keeps drawing me in. Something so pulling, it's frustrating how much I think of you."

No words left your mouth. How could they when your jaw laid open the way it was.

Cardan chuckled. "Now, another reason I wanted you here. I must ask: I know you mortals can lie, something we folk can not do, but how are you so good at pretending?"

Your eyebrows furrowed slightly. "Pretending?"

Cardan's smirk only grew, "pretending you aren't in love with me, that is."

The world had stopped. It felt like your entire world had shattered. This was quite possibly the last thing you thought Cardan would get you alone for.

Anyone with eyes could see that Cardan Greenbriar was gorgeous. All of his kind were gorgeous, but he had exceptional beauty. Beside that, you couldn't find one characteristic about him that you had liked. Sure, maybe he stopped Nicasia from hurting you further than she would have. And by the way Jude recalled his cruelty before they met you, it seemed to have subsided quite a bit since you met him. That still doesn't change the fact that he is cruel, and has been for a long time.

"Cat got your tongue?"

You shook your head clear from your thoughts. "No. Just confused how you could possibly think I would be in love with you."

"You want to know how I know you're in love with me, despite what you might believe?" Cardan grinned and closed the already small space between you two. "Because I know how insufferable you find me. I know how I get under your skin, how you lay awake thinking of how much you hate me. I know this because I feel the same towards you, and despite my feelings of irritation with you, I still find myself completely infatuated by you."

"You are?" You questioned, voice so quiet you might barely have heard it, but Cardan sure did.

He grinned. "Oh, yes. I have been infatuated with you from the moment I laid eyes on you. I wasn't lying earlier when I told Nicasia I'd like her to leave your face the way it is. I think you are pretty for a mortal. You give off this glow and iridescence. You are unlike any other mortal I've come across. The way you've kept me up at night, the way I am excited to see you just to have our little spat had me confused for the longest time. Eventually, I just couldn't take it anymore and I’ve decided to act on it."

You couldn't take it anymore. Everything Cardan said resonated so deeply with you. Somehow he knew exactly how you felt. The way you hated him, the way you were angry with yourself when you thought of him so often, everything he said he felt is exactly what you were going through as well.

You decided, if Cardan was going to act on his confusing feelings, you would act on yours as well.

Already chest to chest, you reached up and gripped Cardan hair, tight enough to hurt, and kissed him with all of the pent up anger and hatred for him you had.

If Cardan was surprised, he didn't seem it. He gripped onto your waist and kissed you back with so much ferocity it made your knees weak.

It was hot, and it was unlike any kiss you've ever had before. Kissing Cardan was unleashing something so deep inside of you. All of your confused feelings for him wrapped up all into a long-awaited kiss.

Gasping for air, you and Cardan separated, though not fully. While you were no longer kissing, you had yet to pull your fingers from the tangles of his hair, and he had no plans of letting go of his hold on your waist.

"I still hate you," you said breathlessly.

Cardan smiled, he actually smiled and replied, "I think I hate you more."

[anbaisai]

Finally had time to sit down and write, but honestly there’s not much to be said other than thank you to everyone who wrote a message on my tree! I really enjoyed reading every single message and screenshotting to save them into a folder for when I need a lil boost ww (including one from Mr. Viper himself above that got a laugh out of me, thanks Jamil really appreciate you thinking I’m cool)

Some sappiness under the cut:

I never expected to receive this much support for my silly yume/oc ship content when I began posting, and I really don’t have the words to express how grateful I am. I’ve met many wonderful people through this fandom, and also just had lots of fun in general making art. I mean it when I say I genuinely never had this much motivation and inspiration to create for any fandom (or original content) in the past. There was a long, long period in my life during which trying to find even a crumb of motivation to draw felt impossible. There was always some reason that I couldn’t - be it school/life being too busy, feeling too tired, having other stuff to do first, etc. I thought I’d never rediscover my love and passion for art, until I finally pushed myself to design my Yuu for real (instead of just thinking about it) and then everything just snowballed from there. (For context, I began playing TWST in 2020 and, despite being very much in love with it, only began drawing anything for it this year.)

I have such a massive list of ideas that I still want to draw (plus several asks that I want to answer that I just haven’t had the time to yet), so I’m certainly going to be kept busy for a while. After previously making every excuse possible for not drawing, I’ve learned that yeah, once you really love something you will squeeze time out for it no matter how hard things get, because it kills you not to. All those times when I wondered when I’d ever be able to draw as much as my favourite artists now feel like a distant relic of the past, and I have Twisted Wonderland (especially Jamil) and this community to thank for it. If anyone reading this is going through something similar, I promise it gets better - you will need to put in the effort to make it start, but you will get there.

There’s also my past experiences of being in fandoms that, well, did not welcome yume/self-shipping type content. If I so much as thought of creating any, the fear of being ridiculed would make me back away from the idea immediately. I’m glad to see that sentiment seems to be no longer the norm, but also the TWST fandom has been one of the most supportive of yume content I’ve ever seen. To everyone wanting to participate but has been hesitating, you absolutely should! My only regret is not starting sooner, seriously. In a sense I feel like I'm fulfilling a childhood dream of mine, and all of my past hesitation and anxiety just dissipated once... as cringe as it sounds - once love took over. So go pour your love and passion into that character you adore, they deserve it.

Anyways, wishing everyone a happy holidays and happy new year! Here’s to another year of enjoying TWST and creating for the things we love ❤

[joeybsversion]

I miss yous

Joe Burrow x Reader

You and Joe work through a messy break up

“Who Dey!” Ja’Marr stuck out his hand for a high-five from Joe. “What’s wrong, bro?” He asked as Joe blinked his way back to reality.

“Good game, Ja’Marr.” He pulled the cigar from his mouth and gave a weak smile.

“You should be celebrating, Joe. That was a big game. What’s going on?” He asked taking a seat next to Joe.

“Just tired.” He lied. “Like you said, big game.” He pressed the cigar to his lips again.

“You miss her, don’t you?” Ja’Marr questioned. He took no response from Joe as a yes and patted his friends back as he walked off.

Across the city you finishing another drink, making yourself look busy so you didn’t have to watch Joe’s post game interview.

You pulled yourself from the couch and stumbled into the kitchen to pour another drink, your best friend close behind.

It had been 4 months now since you and Joe had broken up. Seeing his face all over TV didn’t make it any easier as they progressed their way through the division. The breakup was messy, Joe was away for a game and neither of you really got any closure. With work and taking care of things at home, you weren’t able to travel as much this season with him. You both had wanted to keep your relationship private but it almost became too private. Not even the two of you knew what was going on some of the time.

“You’ll be fine without him.” Your friend reassured you as she watched you down another drink.

“I know. I’ll probably even be happy.” You lied.

“So what’s the problem?” She asked, taking the now empty plastic cup from your hand and tossing it into the garbage.

You stared at his face on the screen across the room. The rest of our friends are watching his post game interview and celebrating another win. “It would have been easier,” you paused “to have been happy with him here.” You looked down. “I’m going to head home.” You pulled out your phone and ordered an Uber. “I’m tired.” You lied, much like Joe had done to Ja’Marr earlier that evening.

“Meet you at my place?” Tee stopped by Joes locker on his way out. They team always celebrated at Tee’s after the games.

“I’m pretty tired, might just head home. Next weeks a big one and I want to make sure I’m ready to go.” Joe lied, taking another long draw from his cigar.

“Ok man, I understand.” He walked towards the door “but if you change your mind you know where to find me.” He hollered as the door swung shut behind him.

Joe pulled on his hoodie and closed up his locker. “Time to get out of here.” He mumbled to himself, digging through his bag for his phone and keys. “Another night alone.” He sighed.

By the time he left the stadium, the sky was dark and it was starting to rain. As he got home, he dropped his bag at the front door, headed upstairs, and got into bed. You were still on his mind as you had been every day for the past 4 months, he so badly wanted to hear your voice. But you hadn’t reached out even one time since the breakup. He figured you had moved on and were fine without him.

Joe pulled out his phone and clicked through until he found your contact. Everything in his head was telling him not to text you. It was almost 2:30 AM now, you were asleep he thought to himself. But he didn’t care. Without another thought, Joe fired off a text “I miss you.” It read.

The rain was coming down hard now and it was pitch black outside. “I should’ve left a light on.” You mumbled as you climbed out of the Uber and made your way to the front door. “Where is my phone?” You fumbled through your bag trying to find it so you could use it as a flashlight. “There it is.” You heard it buzz and dug it out of the bottom of your bag. As you pulled it out you saw 2 new messages pop up.

yourbffsname: Let me know when you make it home!

Joey: I miss you

“I must be so drunk.” There is no way Joe texted you thought. You flipped your phone around and used the light so you could see to unlock the door.

You made your way to your room, quickly threw on an old sweatshirt Joe had left here and climbed into bed. You plugged in your phone and saw you had 2 new messages.

Joey: Alot

Joey: And I want to see you

You froze. Was this really happening? Was it some sort of prank? He should be celebrating with the guys, right?

Joe put his phone down, took a few deep breathes, and covered his face. He wanted you back so bad. He picked up his phone again, checking for a reply but nothing had come through yet. And then he did the unthinkable, he pressed the call button and placed his phone up to his ear.

“Hey.” He croaked out. “Did I wake you?” He asked.

“Hey…. No, no. I’m up.” You replied.

You both sat in silence for a few minutes waiting for each other to speak.

“How are you?” Joe asked.

“You can’t ask me that.” A tear slipped down your cheek. You tried to stay quiet so he wouldn’t know you were crying. “You can’t ask me how I’m doing…” you paused “after you tore me apart.” You managed to whisper into the phone.

“I’m sorry, baby.” His voice cracked. You thought he may be crying. You couldn’t talk without sobbing, so you sat quiet for a few minutes. “I miss you,” he whispered, “I’ve tried to tell myself I don’t. And I think I mean it too when it’s 4 PM and the crowd is going wild and we’re seconds away from winning another game. But before I know it, it’s 2 AM and I’m in bed staring at the ceiling and there’s a tiny ache in my heart that wishes you were here. I can’t close my eyes because it’s too hard to decide if I’m more scared of your absence or the possibility that I’ll always miss you.” His voice cracked again and you were almost positive he was crying now. “I miss how we use to talk. I miss our calls. I miss going to sleep knowing you were still mine the next day,” there was a long pause, “I’m missing you like shit tonight.” He croaked out. “This just sucks because I still care, I still want to fix things, and I still want you. I still want us. I still need closure.” He sighed. “I need you to say something.”

You sat in silence for a few seconds, trying to think of what to say next. “I miss you, Joey.” You whispered. “I really miss you.” Another tear rolled down your cheek. “We keep on exchanging ‘I miss you’s” you said, “but it’s sad because neither of us did anything to just see each other again.” You finished, referencing how you hadn’t seen each other since before you broke up. “I don’t think I can come to terms with how things ended,” you paused, waiting for him to say something. “You told me you loved me in the morning on your way out to the door,” you used your sweatshirt sleeve to wipe your eyes “and that night when you got to your hotel for the game, you didn’t anymore.” You cried out.

“I never stopped loving you.” He interrupted. “I’m sorry for how things ended….” There was another long pause as you both sat in silence. “I read through our old messages earlier when you use to tell me how much you loved me and I would tell you that you meant everything to me,” he continued, “those words are still true. I want to fix things. I’m sorry for hurting you.” He sniffled.

“I’m sorry too.” You cried.

“Come over, baby.” He said.

“Joey, it’s almost 3 AM. It’s late.” You reminded him.

“Please.” He whispered. “I need to see you.”

“Good night, Joey.” You whispered and ended the call.

You put your phone down, dried your tears, and rolled over. It was best to sleep this off and see how you felt in the morning. You really did miss Joe, but you were nervous to see him.

As you drifted off to sleep you heard knocking on the front door. “What time is it?” You rolled over and pulled out your phone. It was 4:27 AM. You had a message from Joe.

Joey: I can’t wait until tomorrow. I’m coming to see you and make things right.

He couldn’t actually be here you thought. You imagined the noises. It’s way too late and it would be too crazy for him to be here right now. You rolled back over.

Joe couldn’t fall back asleep after your call. The next thing he knew, he was standing outside your front door, knocking a firm sound against it. You opened the door, still half asleep, your face showing a mix of confusion and happiness.

Joe reached out and grabbed your hand, pulling you onto the porch with him in the rain. He puts his lips against yours and his hands in your hair. You can feel the uncertainty behind the kiss, but you don’t stop.

When you pull back he looks at you and says “Your favorite way to be kissed is in the rain, you hate the color orange but will always wear it on game day. You love sleeping in on the weekends and vegetables disgust you.” He lets out a big breath before continuing, “You’re still on my mind and I don’t think that’s ever going to change.” With a watchful eye he looks for your reaction.

Your mouth turns up into another smile and you crash your lips together again

[devilart2199-aibi]

I know I already said this prior to you, but I adore your Stunticon designs so much and feel an absolute rush of joy when I see you post art of any of them. I yearn for more information on your AU versions of them, and what happens to them all when they get to earth.

Where does Dead End go when he helps Breakdown, where do Motormaster, Drag Strip and Wildrider go after the split up in the team and how do they all handle it? They're all connected through the gestalt bond, which makes a gestalt closer than any other cybertronians, and how do they handle Motormaster hurting Breakdown, and then losing two of their own?

Does Motormaster ever regret what he did to Breakdown?

Thank you again! Hearing your interest in my AU really does make me so happy!! 🥺💕 So feel free to ask away! I've been pretty busy recently so I haven't had any time to work on the au sadly. But let's answer some questions now! With some drawings!! >:3

Also long post warning! !

"Where does Dead End go when he helps Breakdown?"

In short, undecided atm! But this is what happened if he was planning to leave with Breakdown:

Dead End and Breakdown agreed on a meeting spot a bit outside the Stunticons base. But when Breakdown doesn't show up for a long while, Dead End figured he got cold feet and began heading back to base only to get a coms transmission from MotorMaster telling him to meet up with Dragstrip and Wild Rider who are currently in pursuit of Breakdown!

Dead End would be wayyyy behind the others and only end up catching a glimpse of Breakdown and Knockout being apprehended by the Autobots, the other Stunticons long gone.

Dead End wasn't really sure what he would do now. It seemed like the others didn't know he wanted out like Breakdown. But what if they did? Does he risk it and go back? What was he going to do if the plan had gone smoothly even?

Well... he hadn't really got that far. He just knew he was tired, and Breakdown suggested an out. But joining another group of hot-headed 'Cons? Really?? He needed something different... maybe just... roaming around earth would be fun? It definitely has to be calmer than anything he's experienced the past few Megacycles.

For Dead End, since I wasn't sure if I would have him leave with Breakdown or not, I hadn't chose a story for him yet, though i did have a few ideas in mind.

"Where do MotorMaster, Dragstrip and Wild Rider go after the split up in the team and how do they handle it?"

They probably wouldn't go far, maybe just relocate their base. The remaining team would stick together for the most part. They're still the Stunticons, just... less.

MotorMaster would become hell-bent on getting the two back one way or another... or maybe even making them pay for such treachery to their team.

"How do they handle MotorMaster hurting Breakdown, and then losing two of their own?"

They were used to MM's intimidation techniques to get them back in line, but nothing like this. Sure he'd give 'em a good toss, smack or yelling at, but this, this was something else.

For Dragstrip he'd think to himself "What did Breakdown think would happen if he told MM him off and ditched the team? What a fool" as a kind of way to make sense of the situation. He'd definitely stand a bit further from MM than before.

As for Wild Rider, he loved a good fight. Heck he didn't mind killing a few bots! But never each other. He got an uneasy feeling from the whole thing.

For Dead End, they always remember him voicing his annoyance and tiredness with everything, but they never actually thought he'd do anything about it.

"Does MotorMaster ever regret what he did to Breakdown?"

Sadly not. He probably only regrets not being able to see Breakdown's desire to leave sooner. Not that he'd know what he'd do then.

And I think that was it? Thanks again for the questions and curiosity towards my au!! :3

[frvnkcastles]

Hello love! I know you’re probably still in recovery, so feel free to table this request as long as you like (or permanently if it doesn’t vibe with you!) but it came to mind and I immediately thought of you.

I thought, maybe something happens to the reader as a consequence of Frank’s life. Maybe they’re kidnapped or tortured or otherwise hurt, and it’s really not that bad - Frank gets to you in time, and you’re not too terribly hurt. But it sets off the readers cPTSD, which they weren’t ready to share with Frank yet. And he thinks they’re haunted and traumatized by the event, and you don’t know how to tell him it’s not what he thinks. And Franks doing his whole guilt spiral but you can’t explain that it’s not his fault, that these cuts and bruises are nothing. That you’re not scared of those men. That it’s something else you’re scared of

WILL YOU STILL LOVE WHO I AM ➵ F. CASTLE

Summary: You’re kidnapped and Frank comes to your rescue, but the ordeal triggers your CPTSD and you just want to make Frank feel less guilty.

Warnings: Knives, guns, mild torture, childhood abuse, hurt/comfort

Word count: 1.8k

Author’s note: I hope I did your idea justice!! I don’t feel like this is my best work but it’s a very heavy topic to write about and I really wanted to be respectful and careful with it. Sending you lots of love <33 (Also, I’m realizing I am NOT good at ending fics lmaooo.)

It was supposed to be a fun night out with your girlfriends. And you could have sworn you hadn’t taken your eyes off of your glass, but somewhere between laughing at your friend and reapplying your lipgloss you must have lost focus and that was when they had struck. The dancefloor was full, anyway, so you shouldn’t have been surprised that no one paid attention to a stranger dragging you away, and yet, you wished so dearly that someone would have.

That, you figured, was how you ended up in that warehouse, tied to a chair with your head heavy and groggy, just like your eyelids. You couldn’t tell how long it had been, but you were tired and scared and all you wanted was to go home.

You came to when one of your captors roughly grabbed your chin and tilted your head up. ”Smile. It’s for your boyfriend”, the man grinned in satisfaction, and as he squished your face and snapped a photo of you, you squinted at the flash. It was over quickly but the burn on your jaw remained, and it made you groan as you tried to look around you and process your surroundings.

”What do you say we make you all pretty for when he arrives?” the man spoke up in front of you, and when you turned to look at him, you saw the gleaming knife in his hands. You inhaled sharply and your whole body tensed at the implications, but with your wrists and ankles tied, there was nowhere for you to go.

He traced the knife across your stomach, not enough to draw blood but enough to remind you he could. He then fisted the material of your dress in one hand and, with his other one, drove the blade through the fabric, creating wide tears over your chest and thighs. He laughed mockingly, and as he trailed the knife past your revealed chest, tears welled up in your eyes.

”You’re going to regret this”, you mustered, but the shakiness in your voice didn’t make a very convincing case. Still, the attempt was enough to piss him off, and before you could do or say anything else, he had cut you right across your collarbone.

”Don’t talk back to me”, he warned you, and despite the tears running down your face, you stared back at him defiantly.

”You’re pathetic”, you spat at him, and within seconds, he had swung his hand across your face, making the warehouse echo with the smack. You cried out, and in an instant, you were back in your childhood home — at the hands of your parents, slapped around like you weren’t worth anything else.

You supposed that dissociating from the situation was how you got through the next hour. You were far too busy stuck in a flashback to fully process the cuts you received at the hands of your captor, but you heard every word he whispered in your ear.

You’re worthless. You deserve this. No one’s coming to save you.

It was all too familiar to you. But you had survived then, and you were determined to survive now — you knew Frank was coming to your rescue. Even if you had barely started dating, he wouldn’t let an innocent person get killed by his enemies, and that was exactly why you had faith that it was only a matter of time.

And, indeed, eventually you heard gunshots from behind the heavy door closing you alone with the man. He flinched, and when you both heard Frank roar out his name, you knew it was time. He reacted by circling behind you and holding the knife to your throat, so tight you barely dared to breathe.

Then the door opened, and Frank looked absolutely feral as he pointed the gun at the man behind you. ”Let her go”, he demanded with his gravelly voice, and the man only laughed.

”You stupid—”, he began, but Frank didn’t waste more time — he pulled the trigger, and your captor dropped dead, the knife clattering against the floor as he did.

You exhaled heavily, and immediately, Frank was rushing to your side. ”I gotchu, sweetheart. ’M here now. I’mma take you home, okay?” he rasped, using his own knife to free you from your binds. Your body slumped forward and he caught you with ease, supporting you against his chest as he gathered your limbs and heaved you up into his arms.

”I got you”, he repeated in a quiet whisper, before carrying you out to his truck and taking you home.

Soon enough, you were seated on the edge of your bathtub with an ice pack against your bruising eye and Frank’s hand ghosting over your body to assess all the damage. In hindsight, it really wasn’t as bad as it could have been — minor, shallow cuts littered your skin but they didn’t even need stitches, and the drugs were wearing off. Frank still made sure to disinfect the cuts and apply band-aids where it was necessary, but for the most part, there was nothing to do about the physical aspect.

He helped you out of your torn dress and into one of his sweaters, and the whole time, you could tell how tense he was, like he was a ticking timebomb about to go off.

”You saved me”, you voiced your thoughts out loud, after not having said a word since he had found you. Your words got his eyes to meet yours, and you gave him a weak smile. ”You found me and I’m okay”, you added, and with a wry scoff, Frank looked down at your conjoined hands as you stood in the middle of your bedroom.

”You’re not okay”, he grunted, his voice dripping with guilt and blame, all of it directed at himself. ”I never shoulda let this happen”, he continued as he let go of your hands and started pulling off his skull-adorned vest, only now finding the time to take care of himself.

”It wasn’t your fault”, you argued with a frown, and with his back turned to you, Frank shrugged.

”Wouldn’t have happened to you if you weren’t involved with me”, he pointed out, and from the fragile tone, you felt like he was on the verge of tears. It made you sick to your stomach, and in a sick twist, you started to feel guilty, for causing him distress.

You weren’t used to someone looking after you, either. And his care-taking seemed to only emphasize the voice in your head that your parents had instilled in. You didn’t deserve it. You would have been better off dead.

Swallowing, you gave Frank’s back a caress before dropping your hand. ”Let’s just get some sleep, okay?” you proposed, ready to put this night behind you, and with a small nod, Frank agreed.

It was 4 AM when you jolted awake from a nightmare. You cried out as you flinched up, and reacting to the potential danger, Frank snapped out of his slumber, ready to attack. When he saw you sitting next to him, on the edge of hyperventilating, he ran a hand across his face and reached for your arm.

”Sweetheart”, he called for you, and startled out of your haze, you turned to look at him. You let your shoulders drop and with a sigh, you buried your face in your hands, all the while Frank climbed out of bed and began pacing back and forth in the room.

”This is my fault, shit, I never should have let you go. I never should have gotten you involved in the first place”, he rambled away, ”I fucked up, I did, and now you’re sufferin’ ’cause of me.”

Shaking your head, you tried to open your mouth and tell him. You wanted to. But a part of you was nervous. You hadn’t told him about all your trauma yet, hadn’t disclosed the effects your childhood still had on you, and you didn’t know how to get the ball rolling.

”Frank”, you croaked out, but he didn’t stop pacing. ”Frank, listen to me. It’s not your fault”, you insisted, and finally, he gave you a weary look, like he was catching you in a lie. But it wasn’t a lie — your nightmare hadn’t been about the man with the knife, it hadn’t been about the cuts or the bruises, it hadn’t been about any of it. It was like any other nightmare you had on a regular basis, and if anyone was to be blamed, it was your parents.

”Look… I didn’t want to tell you like this, but it’s not the first or the worst time I’ve been hurt”, you started, and finally, Frank paused and sat on the edge of the bed to be closer to you.

”Whaddya mean?” he wondered, curiosity and concern in his voice as he looked at you intently.

”My parents”, you shrugged with an unamused chuckle. ”I guess all of this is reminding me of the way they treated me. They put me down, physically and verbally, and no one’s ever looked after me the way you do”, you explained, and instantly, something shifted in Frank’s eyes.

”Shit”, he breathed out, ”baby, I’m sorry. You realize you deserve to be looked after, right?”

You licked your lips in thought. ”I don’t know”, you answered truthfully, and that was what got Frank to snap out of his guilt. He sat closer to you and took your hands in his, peppering your knuckles with kisses.

”I mean it. I’m real sorry no one’s shown you that before. But lemme tell you, I was going outta my mind tonight. I was wonderin’ if I’d ever see ya again. And that’s a feeling I never wanna deal with again. I want you in my life, and I fuckin’ wish it wasn’t so dangerous”, he ranted, and pursing your lips together in a faint smile, you nodded.

”It really wasn’t that bad. I’m okay. You came to get me”, you assured, before adding, ”and you’re worth it.”

Chuckling, Frank ducked his head before leaning in to kiss your forehead. ”You’re worth everythin’. I adore you, y’know? There ain’t a thing I wouldn’t do for you”, he emphasized, holding you close to him.

”Thank you for saying that. I might need some support for the next few days. I think I can manage it for the most part but after getting triggered things suck a little extra for a while”, you spoke shyly, worried that you were putting too much pressure on him, or revealing too much of yourself. This thing with him was still so fresh, and that was why you had avoided telling him about your past before — it was too much too soon. But now, you supposed, you both had baggage and it was just a part of who you were.

”Hey, you got it. Anything else you need right now?” Frank tilted his head at you, and quickly, you nodded.

”Yes. For you to stop blaming yourself and to get in bed with me”, you decided, and with a chuckle, Frank nodded.

”Aight. I’ll try my best. C’mere, sweetheart.” And with that, he wrapped you into his embrace and helped you fall back asleep, satisfied that you were still in one piece and home with him.

[the-way-astray]

keefe has never gaslit or extorted anyone ever . manipulate MAYBE and i ONLY say that because katie knows all but i draw a line at extortion you arae wrong

hi, anon! those are some opinions you got there! obviously, it seems you've made up your mind, so my goal isn't to change your opinion, but rather to defend my side. i believe gaslighting is actually a form of manipulation, and you've already acknowledged that keefe could be manipulative, so i'm not really going to talk about that. however, it seems you feel very strongly about the extortion thing, so let's chat.

keefe's threats don't tend to come off as threats, because he's usually camouflaging them as something else, but the force (his use of empathy) is blatantly obvious. here are some examples (copy-pasting from my rant, only the stuff in the [brackets] is new):

(note: these are all out of order and i'm tired so i'm not citing shit. i may or may not change that later. point is, there is evidence in the text that proves that keefe is an extortive little shit, which is what i'm trying to prove.)

“Keefe nudged Dex’s arm, then grinned at Sophie. ‘Interesting.’ ‘What?’ Dex asked. ‘Which one’s your gift, Dex?’ Sophie interrupted. She didn’t have to be a mind reader to know what Keefe was going to tease Dex about.” Here we mark the start of Keefe using his empathy to learn people’s secrets without their consent. He feels not a hint of remorse for it, and instead uses it as a way to breach people’s boundaries and embarrass them. As a lot of people have already said, Keefe is the primary reason empathy should have similar restrictions on it to telepathy. [He obtained something (Dex's feelings, without permission, for no other reason than he wanted to) through force (his use of empathy).]

“He reached out and brushed Grady’s arm. ‘Whoa—that is some serious tension radiating off of you. Is it that bad?’” Again, here we see an example of Keefe breaching boundaries and using his ability to get people to tell him things they aren’t comfortable telling him. If Keefe was a Telepath, this would be breaking the law. In case you care. [Same thing as above.]

“Keefe grabbed Fitz’s wrist and pressed his fingers against the exposed skin. ‘Hate to break it to you, but I can tell you’re hiding something.’” (26) Another example of Keefe breaching personal boundaries and using his empathy to extort secrets out of people to get him to tell things they wouldn’t ordinarily tell him. This happens a lot starting in this book, and yes, I am going to point them all out. By the way, what Fitz was hiding was not at all important to their mission. It’s a secret of Sophie’s that Fitz accidentally saw and was forced to tell because of Keefe. And Keefe tries to make fun of Sophie for it, but is cut off. [Same as above.]

“Keefe spotted the crush cuffs about ten seconds after he got to Havenfield the next morning—despite the long-sleeved tunic Sophie had worn to keep them covered. And he dragged out the rest of the story with a relentless bombardment of questions.” Can Keefe keep his nose out of Sophie’s personal business for even a minute??? The “dragged” here is very telling: Sophie would not have chosen to tell Keefe all this of her own free will. He bombards her with questions, and so she tells him, not because she wants to, but because she knows that he won’t shut up until he has the full story. This is Sophie’s secret. Sophie’s business (and Dex’s). Keefe has no right to ask about the cuffs at all. The fact that he “retelentless[ly]” asked her questions until she was forced to tell him the entire story is not a good thing. It does not demonstrate trust, but quite the opposite: a breach of personal boundaries. Keefe is so toxic, I honestly find it impressive how Shannon has twisted him into a seemingly perfect-angel love interest. [He obtains something (what happened between Sophie and Dex) through force (his questions, which are specifically described using the words "dragged" and "relentless", as I stated).]

“She could feel him reaching for her glove—and yanked her hand away.” Keefe tries to breach Sophie’s boundaries. But what else is new. [Once again, he tries to extort, yes, extort, Sophie's feelings out of her. He isn't successful, but hopefully this proves that Sophie is not a willing participant here.]

“He traced his thumb over the sliver of skin between her glove and the edge of her beaded sleeve. ‘There’s something you’re not saying right now. I can feel it.’” (12) Keefe once again breaches boundaries because he can’t keep his nose out of other people’s personal feelings. He has no right to just help himself to Sophie’s emotions like that. It’s a massive breach of boundaries, and then using that to try to pry the secret out of her is nothing short of repulsive behavior. [He obtains something (Sophie's feelings, specifically the feeling of "she's not saying something", which he states) through force (his empathy).]

“Keefe snatched Fitz’s wrist. ‘I knew it!’ ‘Knew what?’ Fitz shouted, trying to wrench his arm away. Keefe tightened his grip. ‘Shhhhh, let the Empath work.’” (367) Oh, boy. Keefe really is such a manipulative asshole. He grabs Fitz’s hand to read his emotions because he wants to know why Fitz is offering to search his dad’s memories. He really can’t respect his supposed best friend’s privacy, can he? He can’t control himself; when he wants to know something he needs to have it right away. He breaches people’s trust and boundaries. Fitz tries to “wrench his arm away”, meaning that he’s uncomfortable and clearly doesn’t want this. But Keefe instead tightens his grip and forcibly extricates what he wants out of Fitz, even having the audacity to say “let the Empath work”. What an asshole. Honestly. He’s such a piece of shit. He’s a terrible person and the fact that Shannon is romanticizing this behavior is revolting. [He once again obtains something (Fitz's feelings, and from that the fact that he's trying to go after Alvar) through force (very literal here, he uses not only his empathy, but also his physical strength to keep Fitz from wrenching away).]

“‘Okay, two choices,’ Keefe told her, standing up and tilting her chin toward him. ‘You can tell me what’s wrong. Or I can put my Empath powers to work—but keep in mind, Option B will likely pick up on all kinds of other feelings.’ Sophie gave him her surliest scowl, but he didn’t back down.” First of all, here’s another example of Keefe touching Sophie’s face creepily. Secondly, Keefe just extorted Sophie’s personal feelings out of her. He just threatened to use his empathy on her if she didn’t tell him what was going on. He then said that if she didn’t tell him the thing she obviously doesn’t want to tell him, he’d not only use his power on her and figure it out, but would also probably pick up on other things she doesn’t want him knowing about. Sophie then makes it very obvious that she doesn’t want to do it, but he “didn’t back down”, by which Shannon of course means “didn’t respect Sophie’s feelings and her right to keep them to herself”. That is so. That is just. I don’t understand how Shannon somehow managed to twist this into Keefe caring about Sophie. He threatened, coerced, manipulated, and extorted her into telling him, sure, but caring about her??? Don’t make me laugh. Keefe is possibly the most toxic character in this entire series, and it is disgusting how Shannon gives the impression that this is caring behavior, or correct in any capacity at all. When someone wants to be left alone, you leave them alone. Keefe needs to go back to seventh grade health class, where they teach you that no means no. [My personal favorite example, because this is the one that most makes me think Shannon actively does not realize what a shitty character she's created in Keefe. He threatens Sophie (by telling her that if she didn't tell him, he'd forcefully take it from her, with some possible extra secrets, thrown in for funsies) into getting something he wants (her telling him what she's feeling). Yes, this is still shitty if you mask it as "caring". If Sophie doesn't want to talk, he needs to respect that, not pretend he knows her wishes better than she knows them herself. That is gaslighting. And taking away someone's agency to make their own decisions regarding their own feelings is bad and not good!]

[block limits are fun!!!]

“‘[ . . . ] forced herself to meet Keefe’s ice blue eyes. ‘I’m fine.’ When he raised one eyebrow, she added, ‘I’m just frustrated [ . . . ]’” (7) That’s right, the page numbers return. And I have physical copies of the rest of the series, so they’re here to stay. It may seem like Keefe is just trying to check on Sophie and make sure she’s okay, which is a noble cause, but when someone says they don’t want to talk about something, that means they don’t want to talk about it. That does not mean you prod and prod until they spill. So many things Sophie tells Keefe get twisted and people think she tells him because she trusts him, but more often than not she doesn’t and he just prods her or extorts them out of her. [It may not seem like Keefe "prod[s] and prod[s]", as my past self put it. But this is Flashback, so you do have to take into account the fact that Sophie has been putting up with Keefe's shitty behavior for six books, so she succumbs quicker. She knows that he will just take it from her if she doesn't give him what she wants. There is a quote later down that proves this, actually (it'll be in red).]

“‘Yup! But I can’t stop her, so I might as well let her take you down with me.’” (97) This is Keefe talking about Ro using him as a lie detector to extort Sophie’s secret out of her, by the way. Which Keefe agrees to do. Which he wouldn’t do if he really was a good friend. Just like Sophie wouldn’t have to make this deal with Ro if Keefe would just listen to good advice for once and do the smart thing. But he doesn’t care about Sophie’s mental health, and he doesn't care about Sophie’s feelings, because or else he would respect them by agreeing to stay out of the Neverseen’s way and not using his empathy to extort secrets Sophie clearly doesn't want to share out of her. And Ro. Honestly, she’s even worse than Keefe, partly because of her personality, but mostly because of the wasted potential. Keefe was always going to be the “bad boy angsty prankster with daddy issues that causes trouble” trope that we've seen a million times. But Ro could’ve been so much more. She’s the ogre princess, and the most Shannon could do with her is make her a Sokeefe fangirl. [Again, Keefe uses his empathy (force) to keep Sophie honest as Ro forces her to tell her and Keefe the secret that she desperately doesn't want to tell to the both of them (obtaining something he wants). And this is somehow spun around and sold to the audience as caring.]

“‘But do you really think you’re going to be able to leave here without telling me what happened with the Forklenator? If you do, you’re going to be sorely, sorely disappointed—and covered in biscuit crumbs.’” (351) Again, Keefe as good as admits that he’d force Sophie to spill if she didn’t tell him what happened with Mr. Forkle. His extortive ways need to stop being glorified and start being treated like the horrific manipulation it is. [This may seem like a joke, but it got Sophie to spill, so I mean. And yes, Sophie came there with the intention of telling Keefe. But that doesn't change the fact that telling someone they have to tell you something they may not want to is shitty. Especially considering how Keefe has acted for the past seven books (this is in Legacy).]

“She wasn’t sure if they were allowed to tell him—but it was so much easier than arguing.” (336) Keefe has literally annoyed Sophie so much that she doesn’t even think it’s worth the fight to keep a secret. That’s not good. It means that Sophie just succumbs to whatever he wants without a thought. That’s pretty much the highest sign of a toxic relationship. [And the reason she succumbed? Because he consistently shows her he has the power to take what he wants from her, over and over and over, and consistently has threatened/forced her, so now she doesn't even think it's worth the fight to try to keep stuff secret anymore. I don't know what else to say. This is not good. It is not caring. It is extortive and shows a clear lack of trust in Sophie and Keefe's relationship.]

and just as a comparison point, here's what keefe using his empathy in a healthy, not extortive way looks like:

so yeah, i'd say keefe consistently and constantly extorts sophie (and others) when he decides it's convenient for him.

[xxnashiraxx]

With Stars to Fill My Dream (16) - I Could Show You Tonight

GUYS. IT'S FINALLY TIME!!! 🖤🖤 I will not yap too hard- I'll add an author's note at the end of the chapter in AO3, but I'm going to let the beautiful commission from dovah-vakarian on bsky (above and below) speak for itself!!! Absolutely NAILED the Twilight meadow vibes I was going for- so THANK YOU ❤❤ I've got some sweet little screenshots below too- thank you all for being here! This is a big one and I'm really excited for you all to read it ❤ Excerpt under the cut along with songs for this chapter!

SPECIAL THANKS: To @pinkberrytea and @verbenaa who both took time out of their busy lives to help beta read and vibe check this chapter!! I love them both so much- they've been the best, with such lovely advice, and I honestly don't know if I'd get this chapter out without them. Thank you both so so much 💕 If you haven't, check out their amazing fics- they're both excellent, talented, wonderful writers and amazing people 🫂

WARNINGS UPDATED

✧˖ Release Schedule: Check Masterlist! ˖✧

Summary: As the tiefling party draws to a close, Ofelia finds herself drawn towards the vampire that's been avoiding her all day. Caught between the impulse to give in and the warning that not everything is as it seems, his charms win out and coax her to him. Wine-stained kisses, witty banter, tender touches, and deeply seated feelings leave Astarion dizzy as his plan unfolds before him- all he has to do is reach out and take what's his.

Pairing: Astarion x female!Durge

Warnings: 18+. Mentions of past abuse and trauma. Canon-typical violence and gore. Canon-typical romance scenes and smut. (tags updated in AO3)

Word Count: 8,367

AO3

✧˖Tag List: @khywren @allymcfee @pinkberrytea @beewilko

Song Recs:

“I’ve been waiting since the moment we met.” He dips to press his nose against where her jaw hinges to her skull and she almost faints at the rush of arousal that flashes through her when he growls in her ear. His mouth ghosts over her neck and a shiver runs down her spine as his cool breath fans out against her skin. “To have you… to taste you. No one else.” She bites down hard on her cheek to suppress a disappointed whimper when he pulls back, leaving her craving his lips with only inches between them.

“Astarion…” The words die on her tongue. Her sudden emotions are sobering, the high and anger she’d been floating on simmering into raw longing. God… she really is so tired of fighting. Tired of it all… She just wants to give in, reach out and kiss- so starved for touch that it’s almost debilitating… craving something, anything, anyone for so long.

Someone to love. Someone to care.

She blinks, eyes dropping to his lips as she feels her resolve crumble into nothing. His gaze mimics hers, drifting down to her mouth, their bodies swaying closer as she closes her eyes.

“Then taste me.” If it hurts later, then at least she can say she wasn’t a coward.

[everythingwasalreadypicked]

Tw: mentions of past death and murder, suicidal ideation

Alabaster sighed, trying to ignore the gurgling of his stomach as he patrolled through Manhattan's desolate streets. It was empty, had been empty for one and a half years. The wreckage left from a long won war loomed over him like a phantom, the ghost city judging him with every step he took.

Abandoned buildings towered over the entire city, lifeless save for the occasional Monster Donut shop still crackling with vibrant lighting. The sweet smell was tempting, but no doubt an employee would report to Lord Kronos that he took a food break during his patrol.

Alabaster took a shaky breath, wedging his cane out of the crack on the asphalt it got stuck in.

His mother had finally gotten a throne. Nothing else mattered.

Maybe if he said it enough he'd start believing it.

The silence was deafening, with no signs of New York's infamous uproar.

He wondered whether Morpheus was pleased that he'd put down 'the city that never slept'.

Well. Almost put down.

Annabeth Chase, of all people, stood in front of him. Her hair done up under a scarf, her face scratched and scraped. Interestingly enough, she wore a Camp Half-Blood shirt. It seemed to barely hold itself together, with different coloured stitches and patches made of vastly different materials plastered on the fading fabric, but sentimentality and all, Alabaster supposed. Didn't matter it was small for her frame, not when it might as well be the only camp shirt left.

It looked more comfortable than the satin chaffing against his skin anyway.

"Torrington." She acknowledged, spinning her knife in her hand, eyes glaring daggers.

He really really didn't want a fight. Not only was he tired and hungry, but this was Annabeth. They knew eachother, once.

A traitorous part of him whispered; you knew Sherman too, didn’t stop you from driving your sword right into his heart, did it?

An acrid feeling stabbed the back of his throat.

"Are you mapping out where to stab me or just plain checking me out, Chase?" Alabaster forced out a cocky smile.

Her eyes flashed, "Why are you here? You're not welcome, General."

"Routine patrol." He shrugged. "I should ask you that question, technically."

"Not your business." Annabeth circled him, holding her dagger between them the whole time. Alabaster didn't attempt to move an inch, to draw his sword from where it hung on his back. "But someone needs to keep watch on Olympus."

Alabaster glanced to the side. Empire State Building stretched towards the skies, deader than Zeus’s chopped up pieces resting beneath the deepest part of Tartarus.

"You're wasting your time," he murmured, "you lost. Your gods abandoned you. They aren't coming back."

Annabeth growled behind him. She could very well strike and stab him in the back with their current positions, but Alabaster found he didn't really mind the possibility.

"Maybe try out the remains of Camp Half-Blood instead? I heard the weather is real nice there at this time of the year," he mused, shifting his weight onto his cane more, "I'm sure Grover will be fine. Never took you or Jackson as the gardening type, though."

It was quite hard to miss the giant tree growing out of an apartment fire escape. Even if it hadn't been an open secret that Perseus Jackson and Annabeth Chase took refugee in the former's home.

The truth was neither of them were worthy of being considered a threat by his lord anymore.

Or so Lord Kronos said and who was Alabaster to argue. Less work for him.

A whooshing sound... and a cold metal pressed against his throat while a body pressed against his own.

Annabeth hissed into his ear, "If you think you're scaring me—"

"I just hear what people say about me, that's all." It would be so easy to lean forward, to finally be able to sleep for more than four hours for once. To rest as his blood spilled all over the asphalt. The brand on his back flared up as if his Lord heard and disagreed with Alabaster from the throne he sat upon kilometres away. "Monster of Mount. Tam, was it?"

"You're no monster," Annabeth sneered, backing off and clearing her dagger with her shirt as if it touched something dirty, "You're a dog if anything. Wandered far away from your owner, did we? Lost your leash, Torrington?"

Alabaster flitted his gaze to the ground, shame curling inside his chest. Always trust Annabeth Chase to find the words that hurt the most. Hadn't changed a bit from when they were eight. "Go home, Chase. I do not want to fight you."

"You would lose," Annabeth slotted her dagger inside the hilt strapped to her belt. She declared, "I don't know you."

Fast, devoid of any attachment. Just like ripping off a bandaid.

"No," He agreed, a grim smile on his face as he pushed past her, "and for Titans's sake, don't get out of the house when my Lord knows I'm here."

"Coward," A scoff made him stop on his track yet again, "I hope you die in a ditch."

Alabaster stared at the hand he was clutching his cane's handle with. It was harder to see under the black nail polish, but the dried blood was there, sitting atop his nail beds and laughing at him. Just like the green magic staining around his veins in splotches, just like the feeling of never being able to wash away the blood on his hands. Just like the screams and pleas for mercy plaguing his nightmares.

"You and me both, Chase. You and me both."

[danisha-tdh]

A lot of things I got dragged into sploon, no matter how I enjoying Salmon run (because teamwork and fun day)

So I decided to draw the content

Here's line up agent in my design looks-

Just for the toon style looks, so here's a hcs for each agents:

(Long words)

Trapper, 22 y/o [Species: Octoling??]

Trapper is not just an octoling, he was used to be one of the Kamabo experiment no.5150. Because he was saved by her adoptive mother, Ellie, he always have to hide his identity in the event of Splatoon 1. He doesn't know much about Dj Octavio and the Octarians clan, but he seems interested until the event of Splatoon 3. He doesn't talk, but he can use sign language (it's a sign that he's mute as always and it's because his voice is very likely to human languages and has no bubble effects in it like the other octolings. He's not an only child he was raised by her own mother, he has a sister, Veronika. He doesn't trust the Kamabo or Commander Tartar. He has a strong relationship with Four, but now he miss her (since they became separated and getting worried about her). And also, he's a gardener.

Veronika, 14(splat 3) - 16(now) y/o [Inkling]

She's a little feral and always care for his older brother. Never been join Grizzco industries because her little salmon buddy is afraid of the boss himself. She's a huge fan of Pearl from the Off the Hook. She interested any type of weapons and a mechanic engineer. Being forced to washed herself, since she's smell like fishes belongs in the sea. She's also a best friend of Murch. If you mess with Trapper, you mess with her (she'll forced you to drop yourself in the sea as an threat or eats gross food).

Agent/Captain 3 [No name], 21 y/o [Inkling]

Has slowly lost their original name and gender. Became tired and depressed because of the Octo expansion event, but still smiles when think about the past what they used to. They like Naomi as a close friend. rarely talks and type of introvert person. Doesn't want to talk about Deepsea Metro (they have PTSD). They can rap since they known as DJ Sango. Get along with the Squid sisters, even they stay as their part of the family. Always support other Agents no matter what and only the mysterious agent among others.

Surume/Four, 23 y/o [Inkling]

A great agent who always very positive and an extrovert person. She always like Trapper, who are very close to her (both always think about each other since they were separated from different city). She was busy due to an extracurricular, and a roommates with Hachi and Naomi. Four really care about Trapper's feeling for her if he's not in a good mood. She loves biology to know about sea creatures and even mammals, including plants. She's shorter than other agents.

Hachi/Eight, 21 y/o [Octoling]

An agent who is only one was escaped from the Deepsea Metro with his sister, Naomi. He doesn't get recover his traumatic experience back there, but always finds a way to avoid it. Kind to anyone, likes other agents. He doesn't know about Trapper, but he interested to meet him. Confidence to find answers. He's afraid of C.Q Cumber. When he's stares at you, it can tell he looks like a little puppy. He and Naomi lives with the Off the Hook as like their parent figure. Always protect his sister.

Naomi/Eight, 19 y/o [Octoling]

She's a bit shy and a fan of the Squid sisters after the effects of the Calamari Inkatation. She likes Cap 3 about their skills and being cool. She's barely talks, but always needs a help from her brother. She kinda loves the beautiful view around the new city or places she wants to travel. She's having a fear of Blender and being lonely without her brother or someone. She likes doing art and doodles on her sketch she bought in the surface. She always sticks with her brother since she doesn't want to get separated. And a friend of Four.

Welp that's all the hcs I have for my agents. Most of them are similar the canon splatoon facts. And here's the base of the body type looks

And bonus for Trapper in agent outfit:

[ask-the-critters-survival-au]

So anybody feeling rather nosy today?

Well I finished Kickin’s entire diary a few weeks ago, and since Hoppy never really got the chance to read the entire thing, I thought I’d share it here!

Please note, on the following dates

November 4, 1997

March 10, 1998

September 4, 1998

Kickin does write down some s*icidal thoughts, that may be triggering to some people. I’d advise you to skip past those if they are triggering for you. I’ll mark them with bold text so you know.

Diary is under the cut! Have fun snooping!

August 26, 1995

I found this notebook by one of the kids’ beds. He didn’t use it at all so I figured it was alright to take it! Not that he is here to stop me anyways. I decided to start writing stuff in here! Just whatever I’m thinking, whenever I feel like it, I guess. Whenever I feel like it. God, that is a WEIRD sentence to say. Or write. But it’s true! It’s my life now! Whenever I feel like it! No more stupid employees here! Haha, get wrecked! Losers. Oh, Hoppy’s calling me. I’m gonna go! I’ll write in you again later! I promise! Wait, why am I promising a notebook that I’ll do something?

October 2, 1995

Okay so I kinda forgot about this thing. Oops! Anyways, I’m getting bored. The soccer ball is starting to deflate and we can’t find the pump. This SUCKS dude. Like, I get the prototype is busy doing whatever, but if he’s all powerful like he says can’t he give us some entertainment around here? Like sheesh! There’s nothing to do. I’m so bored.

October 16, 1995

I’m thinking of growing my hair out. I mean, Crafty is doing it! And it’s getting annoying constantly cutting it. It grows back really fast. Maybe I’ll go for a mullet type look! Just maybe though.

October 29, 1995

DogDay’s missing. We don’t know where he went. We tried searching for him but CatNap told us not to. It’s always what CatNap says. Stupid. I’m going to keep looking anyways. I’m gonna find him.

October 30, 1995

Never mind.

January 1, 1996

Hey, new year! It kinda sucks though. We did absolutely nothing to celebrate. Also, big problem. Bobby found out about my secret crush. Oh I hope nobody ever reads this thing. Don’t tell anybody, but I think I like-like Hoppy. She’s just so cute and pretty and funny and spunky and cool and I love it when she talks about outer space it’s so interesting!!! She’s so fast too, like crazy fast! I think she’s too fast though. She beats me at literally EVERYTHING. That’s okay though! I’m gonna keep getting better until I can win! But yeah. Bobby found out. I’m terrified for my life.

January 23 1996

So we’re starting to run out of food. Catnap said to trust in the prototype and that he’s gonna save us and stuff. I call bull. We need food, not a savior! But he said the prototype has a plan, so I guess we’ll be fine. Still though, I’m getting tired of eating moldy salami.

February 6, 1996

Crafty’s starting to lose it. She started nagging me nonstop because she keeps running out of red marker. I’m gonna avoid her from now on. Her drawings are getting weird. Really weird. Like borderline creepy stuff. She’s going bonkers man, I’m telling you.

May 16, 1996

We ran out of food. Woke up this morning to Picky scoring through the rest of our god damn supply. I swear I am going to SCREAM DUDE!! So what if she’s always hungry?! She’s not the only one who needs food to survive! Unbelievable. What the hell are we going to do now?

May 17, 1996

So that was CatNap’s back up plan. Oh my god. I don’t want to even think about what I’ve done today. I recognized him. Who I ate. He was there when I first woke up. Taking notes in the corner of the room on his clipboard. I feel sick to my stomach. How long are we going to have to do this for?

June 2, 1996

Today feels special. I don’t know why. It just does. Also I’m sorry I haven’t been writing in you as much. I’m just scared of getting caught writing in this thing. What if someone reads it? What if CatNap reads it? Will he get mad at me for what I wrote a few months ago about the prototype? Maybe I should erase it. No I can’t do that, I wrote it in marker. I’m going to keep this thing hidden inside my zipper pocket for now, until I find a better spot.

July 22, 1996

There was a freaking execution today. I’m so disturbed right now. It was one of the tiny DogDays. I’m not really sure what he did, but CatNap made us all watch as he ripped the poor guy apart. He said that’s what happens if you are a heretic. That’s what happens if you speak out even the slightest against the prototype. Bubba told me that he thought one of the other minis had tattled to CatNap about what that tiny DogDay did. That’s insane. I can’t imagine any of my friends doing that to me. Would they do that to me? No, I’m being an idiot. They’d never do that. Regardless I can’t let him find this thing. I don’t want to end up like that mini.

August 8, 1996

It’s officially been a full year since the Hour of Joy. It’s weird to think about. How many full humans have I eaten by now? Maybe eight? Ten? Twelve? Twenty? I lose count. I don’t feel anything when I eat them anymore. It’s easier to imagine them without faces. I always cut off the head so I don’t have to see it. On the bright side, we finally found the pump for the soccer ball. Hoppy and I can finally start playing again. I don’t really think either of us want to though. At least not right now.

September 12, 1996

Hoppy and I had another fight today. I’m writing in this thing because Bobby made us separate. I don’t like being mad at her. I want to apologize but I’m scared to approach her right now. I miss DogDay. I don’t write about him much but I miss him. His name is kind of forbidden to even speak nowadays. Picky thinks he abandoned us. I don’t think he did. He’d never do that. But if he did I want him to come back. Everything’s falling apart without him.

January 12, 1997

I’m sorry it’s been awhile. I don’t really know what to write about today though so I’m gonna end it off here.

February 7, 1997

Sometimes I wonder if I should name this journal something. But I’m not very creative when it comes to names. Crafty is though. She’s been really different lately though. She’s gotten really cheerful for some reason. But say the wrong thing and suddenly you’re on the ground. I’m scared of her. I don’t know what’s going on with her but if she doesn’t get that fixed soon she’s going to get herself killed. Or kill someone else. Either of the two. Maybe even both.

April 25, 1997

Nothing to write about today. I’m just not going to. I don’t feel like it. My hand hurts. I think I’m gonna go back to sleep.

June 2, 1997

It’s the weird day again. The one that feels like it should be special. I don’t know what that feeling is. I asked Bubba about it. He knows a lot, I thought he’d probably know that too. He didn’t though. He said he got that feeling too, sometimes. But neither of us knew why.

June 19, 1997

We ran out of food. I didn’t even know that was possible. There were so many humans working in this factory, how did we run out of them? The entire Playcare was in panic today. CatNap calmed us all down. He said not to worry, because the prototype always has a plan. Okay. If the prototype always has a plan, what is it? Because I’m tired of this whole stupid mess! I want to know what it is! Why can’t I know what it is? This is so dumb! The prototype is so dumb! It makes me want to tear all my feathers out!!!!

September 19, 1997

IM SO HUNGRY SO HUNGRY SO HUNGRY SO HUNGRY I DONT KNOW WHAT TO EAT THERES NOTHING I HAVENT EATEN IN SO LONG I NEED FOOD I NEED FOOD. IM HAVING THESE SCARY THOUGHTS NOW I WANT THEM GONE! I DONT WANT TO HURT ANYONE BUT I NEED TO EAT I NEED TO EAT I NEED TO

September 19, 1997

I did it. I needed to eat. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Picky told us how to find food. There’s plenty of it in the Playhouse. Like livestock, just waiting to be slaughtered. CatNap was so mad. But we have food now. And we all know he’s been eating them too. I feel like a monster. They were like us. But Bubba told me it was necessary. We were all going to die if we didn’t. I’m still sorry though.

November 4, 1997

Bubba got gassed. Badly. I’m so worried about him. We don’t even know why, we just walked in the room and there he was, laying on the ground with scratch marks all over him. How could CatNap have done such a thing? He’s sick. Just sick. I’ve been taking care of him now. I don’t want to leave his side. I’m worried that if I leave for a moment that something will happen to him. Hoppy’s been making me stay active. Sometimes she’s the only reason I keep going on. It’d be so easy just to end it all. She’s there for me though. I love her. God, I love her. I never want anything to happen to her. But I know something’s going to happen to her. That something’s going to happen to all of us eventually. When it happens to her though, it’s gonna happen to me next. I promise it will.

November 14, 1997

I found a boombox today. It’s really cool. I’ve been playing it for Bubba recently. He’s still asleep. I hope he wakes up soon. Did I ever mention in here that I like to dance? It’s really fun. It makes me forget about everything that happened. I lose myself in the movements. I don’t really even know how I know how to dance. I never learned it as a toy. I think I’m gonna go do it now though.

December 3, 1997

THAT JERK! THAT HORRIBLE STUPID DISGUSTING DUMB JERK! I HATE HER! I HATE HER I HATE HER I HATE HER! HOW DARE SHE DO THAT TO BUBBA?? WHEN HAS HE EVER BEEN ANYTHING BUT NICE TO HER???? BUT NOOOOO, I GUESS KINDNESS MEANS NOTHING IN THE EYES OF PICKY PIGGY! ALL SHE CARES ABOUT IS HERSELF AND HER APPETITE! I WOULDVE RIPPED OFF SOOO MUCH MORE THAN HER EAR IF I COULD! BUT THEN HOPPY AND BOBBY HAD TO COME IN AND RESTRAIN ME! STUPID! STUPID STUPID STUPID! IM GOING TO KILL HER WHEN I GET THE CHANCE! AND ITS GOING TO BE SLOW AND BRUTAL AND ITS GOING TO HURT!

January 1, 1998

Yay. New year. Yippee.

March 4, 1998

Something bad happened today. I knew it would happen eventually. I think we all did. Crafty finally lost it on the wrong person. She attacked CatNap and then he ripped off her hands as punishment. I could hear every. Single. Agonizing second of her screams. I thought I was used to screaming by now. I guess I was just telling myself that. I hope she survives. That was a lot of blood.

March 6, 1998

What do I do. What do I do. What do I do. Hoppy’s leaving. She just told me she is. Hoppy, Bobby and Crafty are leaving Playcare in a week. They can’t leave. They can’t. CatNap’s going to kill them. He’s going to kill them brutally. And even if he doesn’t, who knows what’s outside of Playcare? Plenty of toys who would be willing to hurt them for food. Hoppy told me to come with them. I can’t go with them. I don’t want to die. But I don’t want them to die. They can’t leave. I don’t want them to leave. But I can’t change Hoppy’s mind. She’s leaving with or without me. How could she do that to me? Just leave me here, all alone with Picky? Bubba’s still asleep. She’s the only one I’ll have to talk to. I don’t want to talk to her. I’m scared. I need to stop them.

March 8, 1998

what have I done what have I done what have I done what have I done what have I done what have I done what have I done what have I done what have I done what have I done what have I done what have I done what have I done what have I done what have I done what have I done what have I done what have I done what have I done what have I done what have I done what have I done what have I done what have I done what have I done

March 9, 1998

I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m so so sorry. I messed up I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry please forgive me. I keep seeing her. She talks to me in my head now, telling me she won’t ever forgive me, no matter how much I grovel and beg. Sometimes I don’t even think it’s in my head. Am I going insane? You don’t deserve to stay sane. You’re right. I don’t. I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry.

March 10, 1998

The blood won’t come off. It stained my hands. Maybe I deserve that. You do deserve that. You’re right. You’re always right. I deserve it. I haven’t moved from my bed since it happened. I’m hungry but I don’t want to eat. I don’t deserve to eat. Bubba needs me though. At least if Picky tries eating him again there’s nobody to stop me from making her pay this time. I don’t know why I don’t just give up. I should. I made a promise that I would once Hoppy went. Maybe it’s Bubba. Or maybe I’m just making excuses. Maybe I’m just too scared. I’ve never felt so alone before. I deserve to feel alone.

March 24, 1998

I’ve been seeing her a lot lately in my dreams. Always the screaming and then the ear. And then she tells me it’s my fault. I know it’s my fault. But I still don’t understand. Am I selfish for not understanding? Yeah. Probably. But all I ever wanted to do was protect her. I don’t understand why this happened. I don’t understand. Picky’s been avoiding me. That’s fine. I don’t want to see her either.

April 12, 1998

You know what? No. I’m done. I don’t care if CatNap catches me going into the Playhouse. I need to see what’s inside. Maybe she’s inside, and that’s why we aren’t allowed in. I’m going to find her. I’m going to make things right with her. I refuse to believe she’s gone.

July 16, 1998

July. It’s already July. I took that long to recover? Seriously? That was three whole months. Well, I guess loosing an eye will do that to you. I’m still surprised that Picky took care of me while I was hurt. I tried to ask her why but she didn’t respond, so I guess that was that. That doesn’t matter though. He’s alive. He’s alive. DogDay’s alive! He’s been here this entire time, sitting right below our noses and we had no clue! If I can just figure out a way to get him out then he can save us all from this mess! I know he can! I just need to find a way.

July 20, 1998

Bubba woke up. He finally woke up! Oh my god, he finally woke up! It’s been how long, eight months? I’m so thankful. He’s really scared though. He must’ve been through hell. I know from experience the nightmares that stuff gives you aren’t pleasant. I can’t imagine going through that for a whole year. Poor guy.

July 21, 1998

Bubba’s been having trouble walking lately. His legs give out whenever he tries. I guess that makes sense. He hasn’t used his legs in a while. I wish I knew how to give him the proper treatment he needs. Actually, there’s an idea. I should check inside of the school. I’m sure there is something in there about comas.

July 22, 1998

OKAY SO THAT WAS A HORRIBLE IDEA. Not only did I find absolutely NOTHING, but I almost got my head bashed in with a freaking mace! That biology teacher has gone wack. Completely wack. Then again, she’s not the only one. I still hear Hoppy. She still visits me. I’ll be in the middle of something and then I’ll just see her. I think I’m starting to hallucinate. I know that’s really bad. But I enjoy seeing her. Even if all she does is cuss me out. It gives me hope. Hope that she’s not Never mind. I shouldn’t be thinking about that. Bury that nice and deep along with the other scary thoughts. She’s not dead. She’s not dead she’s not dead she’s not dead she’s not dead.

August 8, 1998

Third year anniversary. Or is it the fourth? I don’t feel like doing the math. Bubba can walk again now, but all he does is sit against a wall. It feels like my effort was wasted, if I’m honest. He doesn’t like eating. Or sleeping. He hates sleeping. I tried to give him some books to read that I stole from the councilors office, but he ignored them. Some days he refuses to sleep so badly to the point where I have to knock him out for him to get a little shut eye. I feel bad for him. He doesn’t deserve this. If I could take his place I would in a heartbeat. Maybe if it was me instead of him I wouldn’t have messed up so horribly.

September 4, 1998

It’s one of those days where the hallucinations are bad again. Sometimes I wonder if it even is a hallucination. Am I actually seeing her? She’s looking over my shoulder right now. Watching me write. She looks so real. And the stuff she says feels so real. I want her to be real. I want to hold her in my arms. She just told me if I ever try to do that she’s going to push me off the cloud I’m on. I think she knows I wouldn’t save myself.

September 18, 1998

Bubba’s been getting better. He’s started talking again. Only sometimes though. And he never says much. It’s a start though.

November 10, 1998

I think I just saw Picky chasing Hoppy away from the councilors office. I must’ve just been hallucinating again. She was carrying something though. It looked like a computer? I’ve never seen that before. Probably just another hallucination.

[allzelemonz]

The O’Driscoll Golden Boy: Colm O’Driscoll X Male Reader

Pronouns: he/him, Reader is referred to as ‘feller’ and ‘boy’ Physical Sex: AMAB Rating: E/Smut, murder, implied mutilation, references to castration Warnings: Power dynamics, power imbalance, oral sex, face fucking, deep throating, praise, abuse/unhealthy relationship, marking, possessive behavior, outdoor sex, semi-public sex, facial, humiliation, slight aftercare, hints of fluff if you really squint, homophobia, period-typical heavy homophobia Summary: Colm’s golden boy made a little mistake. The boss doesn’t like that.

Every job always goes smoothly. Every job. Not once have you ever messed up. Not like this. Riding with the O’Driscolls has always been fun so long as Colm is pleased, and Colm is always pleased with you. Pleased enough to drag you into his bed and show you what being the golden boy really means. But tonight… tonight you won’t even be making it back to camp, let alone your boss’s cabin and that big warm bed he’s had these past few weeks.

No, tonight you got caught.

Frankly you should consider yourself very lucky to be breathing.

Sheriff nearly broke your arm hog tying you though, probably shouldn’t be happy about that. He acts like he’s some god when he and his deputies get you in a cell. Something about a bounty having just been raised. Your head’s too fogged from getting hit and your arm hurts far too much to care anyway. Last poster you saw had upwards of a thousand, but that was about a big job further out West. Who knows which state you’re even in at this rate.

Then one of them says it. “Colm O’Driscoll’s golden boy!”

It’s a sneer, mocking and provoking, as they all turn to look at you. You’ve sat down on the floor of the cell, nowhere else to sit and your feet and legs are tired from running. You almost want to stand just so they’re not looking down on you, but in the end you find yourself much too tired to care.

“Should hang ‘em ourselves.” One of the deputies says. “Heard he’s done some sick shit.”

Of course you have. Colm asked you to after all. That’s your job. Whatever Colm wants.

Another deputy pulls a paper from the wall, tossing it on the table and letting it glide and spin. Your bounty poster, you assume. Terrible drawings really, they always are. It frankly surprises you anyone ever gets found.

“Wanted for murder, horse theft…”

You tune out the list of crimes, knowing all of them won’t even be listed on the little space. If they actually wrote everything out there wouldn’t be much room left to put your name and bounty, let alone a picture. It does leave out a lot of details though, important details in your opinion.

“He the one what did those robberies up along the forest, killed those families?”

Yes. You are. They had money, more than they needed. At first you asked nicely, then you didn’t. Business is business and it got you a nice reward from your boss.

“Couple damn orphans came outta that string.”

They’re fine. You even took them into town and gave them some bread and cheese. Boys wanted to shoot them too, you’re a saint in comparison.

“An’ he’s runnin’ with Colm O’Driscoll.” One of them glares at you. “Bet some a’ his charges could trickle down.”

Sure they could. You’ve helped Colm with plenty of things you’ve never seen yourself charged with. Not that you want to recall any of that or have it formally charged. You only kept your mouth shut about it all because you’re smart enough to be deadly loyal when it comes to Colm. You’d never say no to his orders or his requests. That would be stupid.

“I heard he got sodomy in the next state over too.”

Oh, that was a fun clash with the law. Colm fucking you in a back alley in some big city only for a lawman to find you, add charges for you but not Colm. Bullshit really, but it was such a good time that you recall it with fondness. You got rewarded for getting away when you got back to camp after all.

“Love ta see ‘em hang.”

If it would get them to shut up, you might opt for it. You’re starting to get a headache from all the hitting and incessant discussion of your crimes. Your guns aren’t that far away. If they just happened to drink a little more of that whiskey they pulled out to celebrate, got nice and distracted, you might be able to swipe them.

“It’s a three-thousand dollar bounty.” The sheriff snaps. “We’re takin’ ‘em ta the city.”

A trip to the city, a poorly guarded jail car, easy target. If not that, then easy lock picking. But you know the boys that got away will run back to camp with their tails between their legs, tell Colm all that happened, and seeing as Colm had said plenty of dirty things in your ear before you left, he will be a little upset that you didn’t come back like you always do. Cash in hand, happy to take the reward Colm is so desperate to give you. You used to think that’s all it was, the boss giving his best, his golden boy, a reward for doing well on a job. But Colm slips up in his facade sometimes, enough to see he doesn’t just want to fuck his golden boy.

There have been times where you’ve woken up, pretended to sleep, while Colm presses very uncharacteristically sweet kisses all over your face. There’s the occasional exchange before a shootout where he steps in front of you as if you need protecting. Little things a cruel outlaw might do when in love with his dear golden boy. Not that Colm would ever admit anything like that. No, he’ll hide it and let out his frustrations about not being able to act sweet by fucking you senseless under the guise of rewards.

And you have been well aware of this for years now. Not that you’d ever bring it up.

“Could at least let some widows an’ orphans rest a little easy…” One of the deputies says with a slur to his voice. “Hard ta shoot folk without no hands.”

A few of them laugh and you find yourself looking at your hands. You are quite attached to your hands, both in the literal and figurative sense. Though you can think of a few ways to pull a trigger without them, you’d still rather keep them.

“I’d rather castrate ‘em.”

That gets more laughter. It’s an idiotic joke in itself. Once again, you’re quite attached to your dick and would like to keep it and its friends. But, just like the shooting, there are other ways you can think of to get around the loss of an appendage. Colm hardly touches it half the time anyway. Still would rather keep it though.

“Who’s ta say he ain’t cause us some problems.” Another laughs. “Could give ‘em a good beatin’.”

At the rate they’ve gotten themselves drunk, you would like to see them try. One of the deputies stumbles past the others. They watch as he takes out the keys, snickering and giving light cheers as he glares down at you. The second that door opens it will become very easy to take his gun and shoot the drunken fools. Though it is tempting to only disarm a few, maybe pay them their own threats before finishing them off.

But then the large front door to the sheriff’s office opens and several men flood inside. All thankfully featuring green somewhere on their bodies. The drunk lawmen drop to the ground as the boys shoot out their legs. They cry and whimper until blows land on their heads and the boys tell them to shut up. The man by your cell sputters as he tries for his gun, the same one that recommended hanging you. A hole forms in his head and he falls, keys dropping to the floor. Of course it’s Colm that stands with his gun raised, an irritated look across his features.

One of the boys scrambles for the keys, unlocking the door as you stand. You walk out and stop yourself in front of Colm like the obedient dog you have become in his presence. Very slowly, he runs his hand over your chest until his fingers curl tightly into your shirt. He tugs you closer, glaring and angry in having to rescue his dear golden boy.

“Anythin’ ya wanna say, boy?”

You shake your head, knowing better than to say what needs to be said in front of the boys. Not that they don’t know, but that you’d rather hang than look as pathetic as you let yourself become in Colm’s hands.

“They treat ya nice?” He asks, his grip on your shirt loosening ever so slightly.

Your eyes trace over the men, finding the familiar faces that laughed about torture. “Sheriff’s fine, not those two.”

Colm follows your gaze. “Any recommendations?” He releases you, turning to look at the men cowing on the ground. “Boys deserve a little fun since we came all this way.”

And those men very much taste their own words. Colm doesn’t think you deserve to see such a fun little party, so he drags you outside by the collar. But the screams, they sound much better than the laughs.

“Ya wanna explain yerself, boy?” Colm seethes, throwing you roughly against the stone wall that makes up the side of the sheriff’s office.

It’s too dark to see his face. Too late for people to be out and about, even with the screaming. This town is small, surrounded by gangs, no one would be so stupid to leave their home right now.

You stumble a bit, settling yourself against the wall, knowing very well Colm wants you where he puts you. “Can’t explain it, boss. The detonator should have worked.”

His hand winds into your hair, pulling you towards him. The pain shoots through your scalp, a good half of it running down to your dick knowing Colm’s habits. In the dim light of a lantern you can now see his face with the proximity. Perhaps his habits won’t be holding up, he looks rather displeased.

“And why is that?” He asks and you can practically feel the mocking in his voice.

He knows. He must know you messed up. His golden boy made a mistake, something that’s never happened before. You’re not entirely sure how he’ll react to it. But maybe you can talk your way out.

“Seamus probably.” You say as smoothly as you can with the grimace on your face Colm’s rough tugging brings on. “He’s the one that wired things.”

Faster than you can blink, Colm shoves your head back into the wall. The impact with the stone does nothing for your headache, even makes you see stars a little. Your vision is double and shaky as Colm grips harshly onto your cheek to make you look at him, his other hand still gripping at your hair. For a few seconds you see two of his angry face, but as he speaks it settles into one.

“I ain’t a fool, boy.” He hisses. “Ya messed up, lost me a lotta money.”

You groan as his hand tightens in your hair, the stinging not bringing any more pleasure and solely burning through your scalp.

“Here I thought you was perfect.”

That almost stings more than your head. Colm’s praises always keep you going and disappointing him is not something you ever want to do again.

“‘m sorry, boss.” You rasp. “I-I…”

Colm presses his nails into your skin, deep enough to leave marks across your face. “Shut yer damn mouth, pretty boy.”

You nod slightly in his grip, only unable to keep yourself from whimpering at the fresh pain. You can feel something trickle, something wet. By the momentary smirk on Colm’s face, you guess he’s drawn blood, perhaps even done enough to leave scars. Scars embedded into your cheek, Colm’s nails forever digging into your skin.

“Get on yer knees now, boy.”

His grip releases, pain no longer focusing where his hands were and now spreading back to your head as you drop to your knees. You land rough, not wanting to make Colm any more upset, not wanting to disappoint him again. With somewhat hungry eyes, you watch as he unfastens his pants. He pushes his gunbelt up, situating things around as he pulls out his dick. Long and thin, achingly hard, everything you remember. But you’ve never been on your knees before, never had your face so close.

“Fuckin’s a reward, pretty boy.” He grunts, pressing his dick to your lips. “Ya haven’t been very good.”

You don’t dare move without his order. There have been times where he’s thrown you out of his bed for being too eager, made you sit on the floor while he dealt with himself. But that was when he was happy with you, when his dear golden boy hadn’t made any mistakes. You fear what he might do if you make even a single move of your own. So you sit on your knees, taking in the musky scent of the thing you’re supposed to put in your mouth. You wouldn’t particularly describe Colm as a clean man.

He drags his tip along your chin and up to your cheek. You’d give anything for a bit more light to see his face but you’d likely die on the spot if anyone saw you like this. For a moment it stings and you know it’s rubbing over one of Colm’s marks on your cheek, the one his thumb made by your eye. You make a note to clean yourself thoroughly after this. As much as you want to please Colm, to hear his praises, you don’t want some infection from his unwashed dick rubbing into a cut on your face. He seems to enjoy doing though, and for a moment you shutter at the thought of what he would be doing if you had something as large as a stab wound instead.

Then his hand returns to your hair, tugging roughly enough to snap you out of any thought and make your focus turn entirely on him. He tilts your head back and you provide no resistance. Every step of the way, he guides your head. Pressing softly to your lips and urging you down onto him, you open your mouth without question. As he slides through your mouth you taste every inch on him. He certainly hasn’t bathed in a while and you could guess that from his hair, but this really sells it. He tastes like sweat and dirt and dried pomade. And as he forces himself all the way in, hitting the back of your throat as tears form in your eyes, your nose is pressed against an even more foul bunch of pubic hair. It smells like the rest of him, but it’s not nearly as pleasurable as a normal musk might be with the unkempt hairs tickling your nose. For a few seconds he simply sits in your mouth, his dick fully enveloped. You struggle not to panic. You’ve always known he was long, loved it when it hits you so well deep inside where most men could never imagine fucking, but now that he’s shoved himself down your throat you’re not quite as keen.

You can hardly hear his words with how much your head pounds. “Be a good boy an’ sit still.”

Then he moves. You have air for all of a second before he rams himself back in and your throat closes slightly around his tip. It chokes you but it must be the feeling he’s chasing because he does it again and again. At this rate you feel much more like a simple dark, wet hole than a golden boy. But Colm keeps you eager with praises.

“Look at chu, pretty boy.” He mutters. “Such a good boy, always makin’ the boss feel good.”

Of course you do. Colm ordered you to after all. That’s your job. Whatever Colm wants.

“Shit, yer such a pretty thing.”

His hand still grips your hair as he forces your movements, fucking your mouth roughly. But his praises come with another hand, soft as he combs through your hair. Two sides of a coin, just like always, reward or punishment.

“Feel so damn good, boy.” He huffs, his hips starting to become erratic. “Always so good fer me, my golden boy.”

With that you can feel the tightness of your pants, but you don’t dare do a thing about it. Not without the boss’s permission, not without Colm’s smile and hungry eyes.

“Sit pretty fer me now.” He orders, pulling back.

His hands leave your hair, his dick slipping from your mouth. It takes a lot of control to stay upright, to not keel over and gasp for breath. Instead you stay as he left you, sputtering coughs and little gasps as your eyes fix on him. He works himself fast, his hand moving roughly against sensitive skin slicked by its time fucking into your throat. You close your eyes when he grunts, feeling warm streaks across your face a second later. As Colm hums to himself, you keep still. You feel the air around you shift as he kneels down in front of you. His lips press against yours, kiss slicked by his cum on your lips. He holds you still, his hand gripping that same spot in your hair with the same roughness as he kisses you deeply. Faintly, you feel something else against your skin. It rubs over your eyes and over your cheek. When Colm pulls back from his kissing you open your eyes.

He holds a rag in hand, running it over the cuts he made to keep them somewhat clean for the moment. His face holds a focus, but nothing else. No anger, no gentleness, simply focus as he wipes his cum off of some of your face. Not all, just what’s necessary, just your eyes and injuries. Then he tosses the rag to the ground, his other hand still tightly holding you in place by the hair. His eyes look over you, tracing along where you can feel the now cooling bits of him still on your skin. You take a sharp inhale as his free hand grips roughly onto your straining dick. His eyes bore into yours, anger now clear on his face.

“No more mistakes, pretty boy.” He warns. “I much prefer fuckin’ ya normal.”

You give him a small nod. “Yes, sir.”

He squeezes your dick. “My golden boy don’t make mistakes, do he?”

“No, sir.” You gasp out.

“An’ he’s gonna make that money back so I can fuck ‘em senseless, ain’t he?” His hand kneads down into your dick, giving it much needed friction.

“Fuck…” You groan. “Y-Yes, sir.”

He removes his hand, the other tugging tightly at your hair to make you focus on his face again. “Take them boys ‘n get me my money, pretty boy.”

You hold back a whimper from the lack of contact. “Yes, sir.”

He tugs again. “No cleanin’ up either, ya deserve what ya got.”

Then he releases you, standing as you fall on your hands and knees to the ground. You breathe heavily as he walks away, catching your breath and gaining your senses. You have blood drying along cuts from Colm’s nails, cum drying on your skin and likely your hair as well, no fit state to face a bunch of the boys. But of course you do. Colm told you to after all. That’s your job. Whatever Colm wants.

[nescaveckwriter]

Paintbrushes And Romance 🥰🐞

Dean x Reader

Part 6 🐞🥰

A/N: I don't think my heart is going to make this! 🥰🙈🐞

Warnings: Violence, Swearing, Blood, Gore and Blood. 🙈

........

Here's your order, Julie said handing him, his coffee, not even smiling, he grabbed the warm cup and before heading out, Dean stole a quick glance to where your sitting, probably busy writing her new book he thought, going through the door , walking to the impala, running his hand over his face, his so damn tired, he thought to himself, eversince that day he got the note, he hasn't slept much, he wants to catch this bastard, and if he has to be honest with himself, its because his bed is empty without her, laying all tangled up, next to him.

Driving to his house with a CCR song playing on the radio, so that he can freshen up for another long night at the Sheriff's station, while humming to, bad moon rising, he's thoughts starts wandering of to the day he lost a piece of himself.

That morning, they made a breakthrough, gathering evidence over the past few months, from the victims, the biggest breakthrough came when they found beef yet again on one of the victims, cuts. Knowing there can't be to many butchers that closed down , and the predator will need a place where he can keep the victims for so long, they started doing some research on which butchers closed down, so after getting their gear together, they discussed that they will split up into three teams , he and deputy Jack (who was one of his best deputy's and a good friend) was one team that raided the one butchery on the farthest end of town.

Drawing his gun so that he'd be ready for anything but he weren't ready for what happened next, showing Jack some hand signs that'll he should go left and Dean will go right, entering through the two doors, the place has been closed for a while now, the moment he walked in, it hit him, the smell of iron hanging thick in the air, there's blood everywhere! He looks at the center of the room, a large steel table, the blood oozing off, he walks closer, a woman laying there, damnit he says, shock showing on his face. Her hand was cut of at her wrist, shaking his head in disbelief, looking around, is he still here, he wondered,

Excruciating screams filling the room, what she's alive, the sadistic bastard starts removing limbs, while their still breathing, quickly removing he's jacket, covering her wrist, trying to calm her down, hoping she can give them a description of this predator. By the time the ambulance got there, it was to damn late, she lost too much blood!

.........

Late that afternoon, he returned to the station, finding the envelope addressed to him, curious he opened it, first came the photos, then the note ... _She's nearly perfect isn't she? Sheriff, you where very close to catching me today, just know this I can come just as close to her, are you willing to risk her life?_

He couldn't help it, how the hell did he come so close, anger boiling inside of him, putting his fist through the wall, damnit shaking his fist out, seeing the blood on his red, swollen knuckles, shoving the pictures and note off the table.

By the time Sam walked through the door, finding Dean on the floor, playing with what looks like a diamond ring and a nearly finished bottle of whiskey, papers and files scattered all over the floor. What the hell man, he said looking at Dean, while locking the door behind him, closing the blinds, and walking over, taking the bottle from him, Dean just looks up at Sammy, mumbling I'm going to kill that bastard! What? Who? Sam said confusing and concern in his voice, showing Sam the photos, the note. I will never forgive myself, if something happened to her Sammy.

He sobered up, and went to her house, trying to not break in front of her, he revisits the anger, and hardened his face, banging on the door, he had to convince himself and her, that what he said was true, knowing all he really wanted to do is pull her close to him and never let her leave the safety of his arms, she opened the door, her beautiful face filled with concern, big eyed she stood there, he could smell the freshly baked pie, flour still visible on her clothes, with every word he said he could see the heartbreak on her face, he couldn't take it anymore, turned around and walked away, afraid, that if he stood there any longer his eyes would betray him, all he wanted to do is protect her, and if the killer saw that the two of you weren't together anymore, he'll back off.

Grabbing the closest shirt he could find, throwing it on him, he could smell her, the vanilla and orchid scent still strongly on his shirt, she sure did love to wear his t-shirts he thought walking to the impala. Just then he saw a truck pulling at to his driveway, its Deputy Jack he recognized the truck, hey man, Dean says, while Jack gets out, what's wrong buddy, seeing Jack looks like he's seen a ghost, Sheriff, Jack said I'm so sorry!, Sorry for what deputy? Came Dean's question, he has my sister Julie, and he said that if I... Uhm he strutters don't do this, he's going to kill her. Dean's searching, Jacks eyes, for any clue to what he means, seeing, Jack pulling out his firearm, No Jack! wait, let's figure something out together!, I'm, I'm sorry said Jack shakily.

Then came the noise, the look on Dean's face when the bullet hit him in the chest, wasn't anger, but sadness, knowing he'll never get to spent his life, growing old with the one he loves. Sit-laying next to the impala, he hears the screeching sounds of tyres driving away.

Thinking if this is his last breath, he's going to make damn sure, that its worth it, saying how much he loved her, taking his phone out, of his pocket, feeling the vibration in his hand, seeing her name on the family chat, which included all of them, he didn't remove himself from the chat, it was his way of keeping in touch with her. The message broke him in more ways than one, ...Mom, I'm in trouble, I got into a cab, but something is wrong, I can feel it, its the serial killer!

The phone fell to the ground, a stray tear rolling down his cheek, whispering her name, it all went dark, despite the moon shining so brightly...

[kylejsugarman]

anyway andrea time again. she works retail and whenever she's not scheduled, she tries to pick up shifts as a spanish to english interpreter at the local hospital. it's not ideal and she works a lot, but it works for her and brock!! she used to depend on her mom to help out with brock when she has to work late, but jesse has taken on that role and with unexpected enthusiasm. she's never dated a guy who was so eager to help her out and take care of brock: then again, she's never really dated a guy like jesse. he even agrees to watch brock while she's busy with the rush of holiday shoppers and has to stay after her shift is over to clean up and refold everything, which means she's coming home at nearly ten o'clock in a tired, miserable mood. but as she opens her front door, she's hit by the scent of pepper and garlic and momentarily forgets about how much her feet hurt. brock runs in to greet her and just as andrea's about to chastise him for still being awake past his bedtime, he starts pulling on her hand: "hurry, mama!! before it gets cold again." andrea follows him and the smell to the kitchen, where jesse is standing by the stove with the kind of almost nervous, sort of proud, blatantly hopeful smile that brock gives right before he presents her with a drawing. "im sorry for letting him stay up so late, but i thought since its friday, maybe it'd be okay. um. i made u pozole. we made u pozole, i mean. i didnt let him use the knife. it got kinda cold, but i think its still good??" andrea stands there for a second, looking at the pot on the stovetop and thinking about how nobody has ever butchered the pronunciation of "pozole" as badly as jesse just did, then crosses the kitchen to grab his face and kiss him; brock goes "ewwwwww" behind her. jesse is always trying to give her things, offering to pay the bills and getting new stuff for her place, but none of that measures up to a hot (well. warm) bowl of her favorite dish after a long day of denying expired coupons and putting shirts back on hangers. it's sweet and kind of clumsy and earnest—like a high schooler trying to ask a girl out to the prom—which is what she loves about him. she's never really dated a guy like jesse, which is a total shame for the rest of the male population because she never wants to date any other kind of guy again.

[denv2]

Okay. I'll just ramble on by myself again today. There are so many things to say, but I'm bad at English, so I can only talk to myself and use a translator to post it.... (Why doesn't Tumblr have an official translator function. I don't want to compare, but twt(x) has Google Translate, but can't Tumblr have that too. Please play my wish. If it's a global app, let's have a translator) Anyway, I want to see more of Felix's story...

As always, I'm embarrassed to talk about headcanons alone, so I'll continue below. (99% IM!felix chat)(It's long)(chapter 172~ spoiler)

I've been mentioning something consistently... I keep thinking about Felix's backstory, which I'm rereading these days... Last time I read and drew a picture of chapter 181, but... Oh my God, I should've started at 172, but I realized I started in the middle.

In 172, Felix uses a gag to defeat the enemy. I love the description of his ability to use a gag, but what's even more thrilling is his reaction afterward. He spontaneously bursts out laughing in triumph after defeating the enemy through a gag. Then he immediately frowns.

'Too close. It was too close.' < This sentence actually made me pull my hair out...

It really shows how Felix is determined to never go back to being zany again. I love the way he checks himself because he's afraid he's going to turn into a zany person after one gag. I really like that... When I first read the novel, I didn't decide on a favorite and just enjoyed the story itself, but now that I'm reading the details again for the first time in a long time while knowing the whole story, I think there are so many things I forgot. And about the relationship between Felix and zany... There were more mentions than I thought, but I didn't notice this... Yes, in fact, the labyrinth part was so long that I was a little tired when I read that part before, but I didn't remember that a lot of Felix's backstory was solved from Felix's side during the labyrinth part...

I keep getting a little obsessed with Felix's past, Felix and his zany days, but there's a reason. I did fanart until March of this year, then I got a little busy for a while, so I was binge-watching chapters of the novel, and then I read chapters 349 and 350, and I loved them so much that I really fell in love with them, so I came back to drawing Felix after a long time? Chapter 349 is the adoption meeting between Canola and Felix, and I really love this chapter. The reason Boris's adoption was rejected was because Felix was zany (+ other unreliable behaviors), and I actually sympathized with Canola. Felix is a trustworthy protector, sure, but he's not perfect, and I like him more for that... As a side note, I do like Canola (I like her as a 2D character, she's like Noelle's mom from Deltarune lol) Anyway, it was Felix's mention of his inner zany that really opened my eyes to Felix and zany. After that, I thought I should re-read about Felix's past connections from his visions in the labyrinth, and then I grabbed chapter 181 and read it and loved it so much that I started drawing Alex and Kitty... But I should have read it from 172!!! 172 also had some really important Felix and ZANY, GAG references...

And chapter 174... Awww. I'm going to paint a picture of Professor Wilson and Felix's past college relationship... As for Professor Wilson's characterization, I've been paying attention to it because of the cult references, but I've been rethinking that characterization as Felix's benefactor lately, so I'm appreciating that part anew, and it's great. I think I remember there was a side story about Felix and Professor Wilson in college in Inky Extra, but I need to read it again.

And chapter 179!! No why didn't I read chapter 179 again?! I thought I would find Felix's past part in the labyrinth part and read it again, so I clicked on the early and middle chapters of the labyrinth to find Felix and read it, but it was 181. There was 179 before 181, but I should have read it from here 😂.

But actually, it's probably a good thing I read chapter 179 now, because it's based on the Twisted Tales Felix animation. If I had read 179 when I reread chapter 181, I don't think I would have gotten as much detail as I did now, because I hadn't seen Twisted Felix yet! So I guess I found this at the right time... Anyway, I have a lot to say about chapter 179.

After realizing that Felix's former hometown is based on Twisted Tales... I can kind of imagine how he lived in the past, and I like that.

To digress for a second, I recently posted a picture of Felix as a showmanship-esque star in a tailcoat suit, and while I was drawing it, I was thinking that Felix, who is a real-life zany top-tier star, would never wear a suit like that, lol. But! I think he would have worn it at least once, but the normal show would have been a comedy show with gags, witty stand-up comedy and physical comedy, right? But I wanted to draw Felix the star in a suit, with a glow in his eyes... That zany, crazy presence! I tried to capture that in my own expression. And since Star Felix is Felix from the past, I wanted him to be a little younger than he is now... The hairstyle is also a little different from the current Felix I'm drawing now! The current Adventurer Felix has more wild hair and is a little unkempt, whereas the Star Felix I drew this time is very well-groomed for showmanship and has a slicked back hairdo.

Let's go back to 179 again. The first line that stood out to me was when Felix's friend asks, "You're not homeless again, are you?

Later on, Felix and Bendy meet up and Felix is telling Bendy about his past, and I think it's mentioned that after Alex, Felix's show fortunes started to change, and he was living an unstable life where he was doing well, and then all of a sudden he was homeless, and then he was doing well again, and then he was going back and forth like that. I think that's the fun part of the subtext, because you read the subtext first, you can see what the earlier reference is actually for.

Then there's Sheba... Actually, what I've been thinking about Sheba and what I drew with Alex and Kitty last time and what I drew after watching Twisted Tales... The character interpretations are mixed now. I drew Sheba last time, but I think I need to change the character design...! I want her to have more of a Twisted Tales feel to her. I feel like I need to do more characterization for Sheba, especially after seeing the scene where Felix's friends don't understand that he doesn't want to be zany, except for Sheba... I need to get her in line... I love Felix and Sheba's friendship in the original comic, but I need to re-read the parts where it's mentioned about their friendship in IM.

And about Candy, I'm actually really interested in Felix's past relationships with girls... Seriously, why is Felix so popular? lol I love it... I love that his past is so colorful... Candy, Nastassia... and Kitty (oh my god. I have so much to say about Kitty).

Okay, let's move on to 181. If I have something else to say about 179 later, I'll say it then. I'm going to say 181 again because it's Kitty...

One of Alex's lines to Felix is this: "Kitty was the last steady girl you had, right?" < Alex's provocation level is... Crazy... (in a positive way). I can't stop thinking about this. About Felix's stable attachment to a relationship.... He's been living alone ever since he left town... I don't think he was even interested in a relationship, because it ended so tragically.... Then one day he meets a rabbit...(Oh my god, but this isn't about Osix, so maybe later...)

I'm so curious about the end of Felix and Kitty's tragic past relationship... What the hell did Alex do? I've imagined some really horrible things, and I honestly don't think it's that bad, but what the hell made Kitty apologize to Felix and Felix turn away and avoid her? What the hell happened?"....

Awww... Felix and Kitty... I'm sure they were a great match before the tragedy... But... But now that they've been torn apart... I love this tragedy... I'm sorry Felix, but I really like ex relationships... because they're ex...

By the way, about Kitty's appearance, last time I drew her with ring earrings, I realized I should change the design to round earrings. I've got two pairs of Felix and Kitty and Oswald and Ortensia scheduled... so it's one of the things I'll definitely do. I'll probably change the earrings to be round then.

Now about Alex. There is so, so much to say about him...... I really love this dislike between Felix and Alex because it feels so good that the people they hate so much are cousins, blood relatives.

Cousins... I think this is more of a fear for Felix. If it were anyone else, he could just end the relationship cleanly. But I think the fact that they are family is more frightening... That's what I like so much. Felix hates and loathes Alex with all his heart. But Alex's attitude in the labyrinth is a little different from Felix's, isn't it? Felix is really hating him, but Alex is provoking him by raising him up... That's also very nice.

I love every single one of Alex's lines, it's so flavorful. I like villainous characters like Alex, but the reason why Alex is especially good is because it's a personalized antagonistic relationship with Felix that completely provokes Felix. He's so good at provoking...

I love the way Alex calls Kitty: 'beaut', 'kit', 'honey doll'... It's so sweet. It's so poisonous... And the things he says to Felix, it's so disturbing. He's so crazy.

'Long time no see, Feels', 'C'mon Feels, nothing to say to me? I've missed you!'(heck, this is soooo crazy.......), 'Still mad?', 'That's cute, Feels.'(noooooooo this is so insane....... alex..... love his poisoned words...), 'dear cousin?', 'cousin'

I love the way Alex says this... He's really provoking Felix with every line... I love how felix refers to alex as just 'Alex' but alex emphasizes the word 'cousin'. See why I said they have a better relationship because they're cousins? By referring to him as a cousin, he's subtly telling Felix that you're not really gone when you leave, that you're not really gone as long as you have the same blood in your veins. I think 'cousin' encompasses both mocking and taunting him for running away, but also letting him know that he's not really gone when he runs away.

But here's my question. When Alex mentions Felix's magic bag, he says it's supposed to be mine. Huh... I'm really curious about the past...

And then there's Alex's Felix costume... Seriously, I love this gimmick, it's a tradition, right? Alex mentions that it's the first time he's done it in a long time, and I wonder if there was an incident in the past where this costume caused a huge rift between Felix and the people around him. And... About Kitty... I can't get this thought out of my head. I'm sure it's because of Alex's appearance in the original Felix classic comics.... Yeah, right....... Oh, I'm thinking the worst again. I'm done here....

I find Felix's past parts so interesting and funny and I think about them a lot, but that's probably more because I like IM Felix.

I also realize that this whole past part isn't really real, it's just Labyrinth's hallucination. I think the real Alex and the real Kitty might react differently, but I honestly think Alex would be the same as Labyrinth lol. Considering the way Alex talks in the other books, yes. He really does have a mouth full of venom (which I love).

That was a really long rant... It's all running around in my head and I have nowhere to put it... I wanted to rant like this in my own personal space. I hope if anyone reads this far, they enjoyed it... Please someone talk to me about Felix🥺

[aspoetssay]

Hey, I really love your story. But I have a request. Can you do like Ghost x GN!/M! Reader they have a fight and broke up. The reader secretly stalk Ghost and find out that he has found someone new. It brokes the readers heart because they still love him. I don't have another idea anymore but can you do it more angsty😌i just want to cry🥲

If You'd Want - You'd Stay Simon 'Ghost' Riley x GN!reader

first of all, I'm terribly sorry for such a late response and second of all, if you ask for angst - I shall deliver...

warning: pure angst and hurt

It wasn't like other times. It wasn't just another fight. It was the one where Simon aggressively draw an ultimatum, packed his bags and never stepped foot in this flat again.

Your body was twisted in between the blankets, laying in the bed you once shared with Simon and you buried your head in between the pillows as the pain with the memory of his departure plagued your mind. For these past few months now.

"Can you just—not go?" You hesitantly asked.

Jesus, it hasn't been full forty-eight hours and he was gathering his gear again. He just came back from a mission that was over two months and you had no idea the whole time if he was even alive.

"You know I can't. I can't deny direct orders from my superior." His answer was always the same - direct orders, superior, for a month or two.

You huffed out and stood up: "For how long?" Your voice was sterner than usual. But you were sick and tired from waiting for him. It wasn’t as if he was leaving for a casual business trip - he was constantly risking his life and every day out there meant another day in which you could get a call and find out he was dead.

How much longer can you endure it? How much longer could he make you endure it?

"A month or two - it's not specified."

Here it was - the same answer as always. But this time, you just couldn't take it - not anymore. "I just got you back. You cannot be actually telling me that you're leaving me for another two months!" Your voice was stern, surprisingly, as you weren't good with arguments. You were always trying to bottle your feelings up, but when was the time to release them?

Simon angrily shoved his gloves into the backpack and turned to you: "What do you want me to do, huh? It's my job - I don't get to choose when or where to go!"

At this point you would've just stayed silent, just like the other times, but not this time. You just couldn't anymore. It always seemed like he didn't care about you. Like he didn't care about the damage he was doing to you with his constant departure. Why did he even need you if he was constantly leaving you?

"What about me, then? What about us? How long will this go on? A year? Two? Five?! What about what I want?" You were desperate. You didn't want to lose him. You just wanted him home.

His eyes clouded, not with sadness or the sudden realisation that he has been horrible to you, but with anger. "If you cannot handle who I am - then why do you even bother?"

"Because I love you! Because I actually want us to have a future. But how long will I have to wait for you? How long—until you'll realise that you have to care about me too?"

There was a beat of silence.

"I'm not planning to retire," he finally said and it completely shattered your heart.

You took a step back, your face feeling burning as your eyes were stinging with prickling tears. In the depth of your heart, you really thought that he was going to choose you.

"I'm not going to wait for you anymore."

Something flashed in his eyes, but you couldn't decipher it - hurt, perhaps? It has been so long until it was just the two of you together and it was as if you couldn't read him anymore.

"Fine."

It was horrible that his last word to you was just—fine. It plagued you. You didn't even know if he was alright, if he was even alive. But he didn't call you and you weren't going to call him.

He made his choice and it wasn't you.

You grabbed your phone from the bed table and the screen flashed right into your face: 12:04 am. Putting the phone down, you sighed - ever since he left, you had a horrible time trying to sleep.

That's why, you slowly stood up, threw a simple outfit from the clothes splattered around the bedroom, grabbed your phone and car keys and left the flat.

You often found yourself on the nights like these, when it got too overwhelming, driving to a fast food place nearby where you and Simon used to go. Well, at least at the beginning of the relationship. When you were still so eager to help him. To save him from his nightmares.

You quickly drove there, parked your car in your usual spot and got outside. It was a chilly night, even if everything seemed so cold towards you. Closing the door, you gazed into the place, through the windows, to see a group of teenagers having a blaster - probably on their way to some party.

And in the corner where you sat, well, where you used to sit with Simon - sat a couple. You slightly squinted your eyes, looking at the two seated people and your heart dropped.

Your car keys dropped on the asphalt and you leaned to the door of your car, trying to catch a breath - it was Simon. Jesus, you could spot him from miles away, you had his silhouette memorised into your bones.

And he wasn't alone.

The male, sitting in front of him, was laughing wholeheartedly and you could notice that Simon's shoulders were slightly moving - he was laughing as well.

You quickly moved down and grabbed your car keys and got into your car as fast as you could. You put the key in the engine and twisted it and grabbed the wheel, but you froze.

You were sitting right in front of them.

And a piece of you was relieved to see that he was alive. He was back once again. But it was only a reminder that he never needed you. He never cared. Because there was something hard you had to understand, but you were just never ready for it: you can't fix someone who doesn't want to be fixed.

You couldn't save Simon and now, you were the one who needed saving.