#was thinking about this while reading the ghost map the other day

[mmikmmik]

After everything we’ve learned about COVID and the importance of indoor air quality, I think a lot of historical figures who believed in miasma theory have been judged too harshly. It’s frustrating to look back on all the missed opportunities to save people with wastewater treatment and proper sanitation, but it seems clear to me now that many doctors and researchers quite probably were seeing stunning improvements from improving ventilation and getting people away from the smells of disease, i.e., away from all the coughing sick people

[makingfanfictionstosleep]

the cure to his curse

sylus x non mc || angst & hurt || happy ending || mc is kinda pick me || drabble out of boredom that spiraled into a series while listening to linkin park's song - heavy || could be triggering for others so read at your own risk || this is not smut || story masterlist : love and deepspace

next

ONE

It’s 3 AM in N109 Zone, the city’s usual hum a distant murmur as you stare at the glowing screens of Onychinus. Another late night, another stack of reports. A cold cup of forgotten coffee sat beside your keyboard. Your phone, usually a lifeline, was silent. You knew why. He was with her. Again.

The first time it truly hit you was during that emergency mission. A major spacetime anomaly, and of course, MC was at the heart of it. Sylus, his voice a low, focused rumble even over the comms, had been all about her safety, her well-being.

"MC's position is critical," he’d said, his eyes glued to the holographic map.

"I'll go."

And he went, leaving you to coordinate the sprawling chaos of Onychinus alone. You remembered the knot in your stomach then, a premonition of all the knots to come.

You found yourself humming, a quiet, almost morbid soundtrack to your unraveling.

He’d return, of course, always with a new anecdote about MC’s unique abilities, her latest near-miss. He’d look at you, a flicker of that familiar warmth in his eyes, but it was always fleeting, always overshadowed by the ghost of her presence.

"You're doing excellent work, as always," he'd say, almost as an afterthought, before disappearing into his lab to analyze data from her latest mission.

I don't like my mind right now. Stacking up problems that are so unnecessary. Wish that I could slow things down, I wanna let go but there’s comfort in the panic

You’d watch him, the way his brow furrowed in concern when MC’s name came up, the way his voice softened, just a fraction. He was so attentive to her, so protective.

And you?

You were the steadfast anchor, the one who held everything together while he soared.

You started noticing the changes in yourself. The vibrant energy you once possessed was draining away, replaced by a quiet weariness. Your eyes, once bright with ambition and affection, now held a perpetual sadness you couldn’t quite mask.

The dinners became a joke in your head. An internal, bitter laugh.

"Something came up," he'd text, always an hour or two after you’d meticulously prepared his favorite dishes, or dressed in something you hoped he’d notice.

"Emergency situation with MC. Next time."

There never was a 'next time' with him and you.

There was always a 'next time' for him and MC.

One evening, he caught you staring out the window of his lab, a faint, melancholic tune escaping your lips. You immediately turned, forcing a smile.

"Is everything alright?" he asked, his gaze surprisingly sharp, almost accusatory.

You shrugged, feigning indifference. "Just thinking. The city lights are pretty tonight."

He didn't press, but his eyes lingered. He noticed the way your shoulders slumped when you thought he wasn't looking, the way your laughter had become a little less genuine, a little more forced.

I'm holding on Why is everything so heavy? Holding on To so much more than I can carry

You were working so hard, not just for Onychinus, but for him. For the ghost of a relationship you desperately clung to.

"You seem… quieter these days," he remarked one afternoon, surprising you by actually stopping by your office. He leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, observing you with that intense, analytical gaze.

You busied yourself with a file, avoiding his eyes. "Just a lot on my plate, Sylus. Onychinus is always demanding."

"Is that all?" His voice was low, a hint of something unreadable in it.

You finally looked at him, your gaze unwavering despite the tremor in your heart. "What else would it be?"

You wanted to scream, to ask him, ‘Can't you see what you're doing to me?’ But the words caught in your throat, replaced by a dull ache.

It's not like I make the choice To let my mind stay so fucking messy

He sighed, pushing off the doorframe.

"You're always so dependable. I know I can always count on you to keep things running smoothly here."

It was a compliment, you knew, but it felt like a dismissal, a confirmation of your role as the silent, reliable support.

You watched him walk away, his mind already, you suspected, on the next mission, the next emergency involving MC. You were heavy, weighted down by unacknowledged feelings, by a love that felt unrequited.

You were holding on, but to what? A phantom limb of a relationship he refused to acknowledge, even as he leaned on you for everything.

He thought he was being close, prioritizing you for missions, helping you. But he wasn't.

He was prioritizing MC, and in doing so, he was slowly, meticulously, breaking you. And the heaviest part of all?

He had no idea. Or perhaps, he simply chose not to see.

[hy6erion]

YOU NEED VIK REQUESTS? I GOT YOU!

viktor's fingers <3 he has those pianist fingers, long and slender. gimme some viktor hands/fingers yappery <3 x reader or x jayce or whatever, you have the creative freedom!

Viktor’s hands. His fingers. God. Where to even start. They’re the kind of hands you notice immediately, whether he’s gesturing mid-sentence with all that dramatic, airy elegance or quietly adjusting a bolt in some intricate Hextech prototype. They move like they have a mind of their own. Not just graceful—precise. Every movement calculated, smooth, controlled, but there’s feeling in them too. Emotion where most people wouldn’t expect it.

Those long, deft fingers were made for delicate work—steady when he’s soldering a circuit, softer than air when he brushes a loose strand of hair behind your ear. You swear he could play the violin if he wanted to. Piano, too. That’s the first thing Jayce ever said about them—“He’s got pianist fingers,” in this offhanded way, half-teasing, half-intrigued, like he didn’t want to admit he’d been staring. But he had been. You caught him doing it again the next day. And the next.

And you don’t blame him. They’re so clean, almost unfairly elegant for someone who lives in a lab, but every now and then you’ll catch the little calluses—at the tips, around the knuckles. A contradiction, like everything else about him. Soft and hard. Cold and warm. Sharp and reverent.

He doesn’t touch you often—Viktor is careful like that. Thoughtful. But when he does, he touches like someone who thinks first. Someone who knows. His fingers trace more than just skin—they study you. Thumb sliding slow along your jaw, two fingers beneath your chin to tilt your face toward his, the lightest, ghost-soft drag of his knuckles down your arm when no one’s looking. Like he’s memorizing every inch of you in braille.

And when he touches Jayce? Holy hell. That’s when those hands go feral. It’s like they’ve been dying for something stronger. Gripping the back of Jayce’s neck when he’s annoyed with him. Dragging his nails lightly down his shoulder blades when he’s not. Pushing up under his shirt just to feel him. He’ll grip Jayce’s wrist in that sleek, silken vice-grip when he’s impatient, lean in close and press his fingers into the dip of his back like a claim. And Jayce just lets him. Melts for him. Smiles all stupid and dazed, like those clever, slender hands are the most addicting thing in the world. Because they are.

You’ve felt it too.

That hand slipping under your waistband, slowly, never rushing. Just fingertips at first, mapping you like an engineer, reading your body like a code he’s about to break open. His palm against your stomach, the metal of his brace cool and impersonal against the burn of his real skin. He’ll stroke the inside of your thigh with that maddening featherlight rhythm until you’re breathless—not to tease, but because he’s genuinely fascinated with how you react. He watches his fingers disappear between your legs like a scholar watching an experiment unfold. Eyes dark. Lips parted. Silent awe.

And Jayce? Jayce watches him. Watches those hands move like they’re possessed—deliberate, exact, always hitting every spot like he’s known your body for years. Sometimes he guides them. Sometimes he surrenders to them. Sometimes he grips Viktor’s wrist and groans into his neck while Viktor just smirks, his fingers buried in you or wrapped around Jayce’s cock like he’s doing something sacred.

Because to him? Maybe he is.

Viktor doesn’t use his hands the way other people do. They’re not just tools. They’re not just instruments. They’re extensions of his mind. His desires. His need to understand and shape and change. And when he lays them on you, it’s never casual. It’s never just about lust. It’s about study. Reverence. Possession. Love.

His fingers are everything. Elegant and obsessive. Curious and consuming.

And when they’re on you, you’re ruined for anyone else.

[chaoscreaturewrites]

Call of duty, fluff, meeting, Simon Ghost Riley

Hello Lt

Summary:When her usually foul mouthed brother, a new cadet, talks to her so politely in their weekly call she gets worried and goes to see him.While searching for him on base she comes across a Lt who shows her around.Her brother is not thrilled to see her and even more so when he sees how much his grumpy Lt is being so kind to her.

WC:1.8k

Her brother is all the family she has left, they were never super close but now it's just them so they make efforts to stay in touch.

So now that her brother's gone and joined the military they have settled for a weekly call instead of weekly meal together. This usually just consists of taking turns bitching about their week or going on some odd tangent and running out of time.

Her brother's always been foul mouthed, in fact she is too. Her parents valued them having good morals and actions over not saying a few words. So when they talk together you'd think you're overhearing sailors.

So today when she calls with her brother and isn't greeted with a ‘sup bitch’ she worries. The whole call she's pacing her apartment mind reeling, waiting for his normal speech pattern to appear but nada, nothing. Something is wrong, she knew the military would change him but not this quick and if anything she expected some more creative swears to pop up, not for them all to disappear.

So the next weekend she takes the long drive up to see him. This requires face to face confrontation, gotta check and make sure he's still him, plus a long drive into that scenic area sounds nice.

Didn't take too much work to get a day pass for a visit and unlike other government facilities she wasn't on hold for hours.

The drive is nice, she blasts some music and enjoys her break from work and society. After a certain point once she breaks off onto a smaller highway she barely sees any other cars, it's rare to encounter peaceful moments like this so she tries to take it all in.

She arrives and pulls up to the gate house where 2 men in full gear check her car, one with a dog and another with a mirror that looks at the undercarriage. They don't alarm her, she just wishes it wasn't against the rules to pet military dogs. Next is her, she's directed to get out of the car and does, the dog sniffs her and a woman comes out of the guard house and pats her down, she's all clean. After she hands over her ID, signs the log in book, a guest badge,and is given a run down of the rules to follow on base along with a map.

The gate opens and she drives in following the map to the auxiliary parking lot. As she looks at the map to find out where to go she realizes she doesn't know where her brother is or would be.

She just shrugs and accepts that today she'll be getting in all her steps, including the ones she slacked on this month, they will all be gotten today. Luckily it's autumn and not blindingly hot or freezing cold.

First she just needs to get to the main building and away from the auxiliary parking lot Siberia, that alone takes a while. She passes by a few stern looking men whom she knows better than to ask for directions.

Once in the main building so she walks along reading the names of the offices, luckily everything is labeled here. Most of them don't seem like they could help direct her to her brother until she comes across ‘Instructors Offices’ that sounds like the right place.

She heads in and is disappointed, instead of finding some secretary who could help her, she finds more doors. This won't work. She can't go knock on some Officers door. Just as shes about to leave she hears a door open and turns to find a tall imposing man who looks just as surprised to see her.

“ Are you lost ?”

“Yes”

No point dancing around it, she may be in the right area but other than that she is lost. She just hopes this man will help and won't be too bothered by it.

He steps closer, looking her over from head to toe. It's a bit unnerving being studied and assessed by the tall man with a skull mask. She's no longer sure she will receive help, now it looks more like he'll throw her out.

“ where are you trying to get”

“I'm trying to find my brother, cadet Harris”

“We got quite a few Harris's”

“ Robert Harris”

“ He's out cutting the lawn”

“ oh okay… this was kinda a stupid idea anyways, ill just go”

“ No, no you came all the way out here for a reason, ill take you to see him”

“ Oh, no it's okay I don't want to take up your time sir”

“ it's Lt and its time for me to check on him anyways”

He holds the door for her and she awkwardly walks under his arm and through the door. His pace is quick and she does her best to keep alongside the man, but about 2 minutes in and he slows down making it easier on her thankfully.

“ So what's your mission?”

“ Oh well, my brothers all I got and something seems off on our last call and I came to check on him”

“ Off?”

“ yeah, he suddenly had manners and didn't curse once”

“ And this concerned you, that he treated you like a gentleman ?”

“ yeah it's a big shift in his personality”

They have now made it to the lawn and she blinks a few times unsure she's seeing this right. But he's out on the lawn in full gear cutting the grass with scissors with a dustpan and trash bag. And when he catches sight of the Lt he gets up instantly doing jumping jacks while singing some song in his pitchy, can't carry a tune voice.

“ This is all you're doing isn't it ?”

“ Yes”

“ impressive”

“I'm also responsible for his change in behavior, once im done with them all my men become gentlemen”

“Does that make you one too?”

“ absolutely”

“ truly a rare and dying breed”

[They are interrupted]

“ Sis, is that you?”

Her brother has finally noticed she is here and chatting with his Lt. The guys who never says extra words to anybody is now conversing with his sister, this is a head fuck and he can't do a thing about it.

“ Permission to approach Lt”

“ Granted”

He leaves the scissors behind and goes right up to her, he's about to speak but family squabbles shouldn't happen in front of the Lt. He grabs her should to direct her away but as soon as he touches her the Lts voice rings out.

“ Cadet manners”

Instantly his hand retracts and using a forced smile he politely ushers her down the path but he can feel the Lts eyes on him buring into his back.

“ Why are you here?”

“ I came to check on you and it was a nice drive, needed a break”

“ you can't just-”

“ obviously I can since I was allowed on base”

“ okay yeah but im good, you cant just come out here all the time”

“ I get it okay, you finally got away but don't think some distance will stop me from caring, we're all we got, so shut up jackoff and look like your a Lil bit glad to see me”

Simon understands why they stepped away, wanting space to converse privately, he respects that and turns to inspect the grass. But with his training he can't exactly ignore nearby sounds. He can't make out the low hushed sounds of his cadet but her voice rings clear, she wasn't trying to hide and the harsh pronunciation on ‘jackoff’ seemed purposefully ment for his ears too.

He'd only ever heard their conversations one-sided before from his formerly foul mouthed cadet but now he sees it wasn't just the cadet. They both speak like sailors.

This interaction has been so short yet he's fascinated by her. Bold, foul mouthed, playful, caring, determined, what a woman. He's seen other female visitors on base and they usually all fawn over Officers and bat their lashes asking anyone they see for directions acting like helpless lost things. He detests them and completely ignores them when they cross his path. She's the opposite, boldly trying to navigate base herself and even when she admitted she was lost, even when she was faced with me, she didn't cower and her voice never wavered.

The sound of a smack pulls his attention away from the grass and he gets to witness the beautiful sight of her dragging his cadet back into the yard by his helmet strap. She shoves him back to his knees and toes the scissors back to him. She huffs walking back to the walkway, slightly shaking her head with disapproval.

“How long has he been out here?”

“ 0400”

…

“4 am”

“And how much longer does he have?”

“Until its done”

“Perfect, should take a few more days”

“You approve?”

“he confessed and I completely approve, carry on shaping my brother”

She pulls the map out of her back pocket trying to find where she is so she can get back to the Siberia parking lot. As it turns out this place has a lot of big yards and she was also given a map with the least amount of details possible, leading to an annoyed huff and a sneeze from the grass clippings.

“Bless you”

Only seconds after she sneezed shes being handed a pack of tissues, the efficiency of this man and the pockets, he must have a tiny inventory of everything. Maybe he has snacks, she is very much regretting not stopping and getting some on the drive.

“Thank you, you really are prepared for everything aren't ya”

“ of course”

She debates taking the risk but decides against it, she's already interrupted him and taken up this man's time, she can't ask for snacks.

The silently appearance of a shadow snaps her out of her thoughts and she looks up to find the Lt standing just behind her shoulder looking down at her map. It's unnerving how such a large man can move so silently without notice, is that a trained skill or something he's always had?

He holds up his arm, strategically over her map and a bit overdramatically checking his watch. A deep ‘hmmm’ sound rumbles through his chest behind her.

“ it's time for lunch”

With that stated he steps away from her and faces himself on the path towards the mess hall. He pivots to look at her noting the mild confusion with a dash of amusement written on her features.

“ Well, are you coming?”

“ Are you inviting me to lunch Lt?”

“ Yes, I am”

“ I accept”

She marches up next to him and off they go leaving her brother behind.She's not excited about the prospects of a military lunch but the unusual company makes this a much more enticing than the food itself.

[Cut to brother]

Wait, what the fuck, what is My Lt doing? Why is he so close to her? Is this him flirting? Wait, no, is it working? No, no ,no please, no. I'll never live this down. Please just be walking her out, if they are seen together this will spread like wildfire and eventually everyone will know it's my sister with the Lt.

Tag list

@danielle143

[ckret2]

Chapter 71 of human Bill Cipher trying to debate his way out of still being the Mystery Shack's prisoner. Soos has found the stolen Journal 4 in Bill's possession and has to decide what to do about it in light of everything else he's learned about Bill lately.

[*this chapter was renumbered to squeeze in the Axolotl plot arc! If you. Haven't read it yet, go back to ch 61 and read it!]

Soos stared dumbfounded at the journal with a 4 on the cover that he'd pulled from Bill's hiding place. Ford had lost Journal 4 last fall—he'd said gnomes had stolen it. How in the world had Bill gotten it?

Soos sat in the attic window seat and flipped through it. The first few pages were Ford's journal entries—his observations of the dimensional rips they were glueing shut in Gravity Falls post-Weirdmageddon, a hand-drawn map highlighting various places around the globe he wanted to investigate, a few drawings and observations of paranormal beings he hadn't seen his first time in town, half a sketch of a gnome that ended with a jagged scribble across the page followed by a page that said "Shmebulock" over and over.

And then a page that said, in an unfamiliar handwriting of jagged, narrow gray letters: "CURSED BOOK! If your name is Mabon Mason Pines, STOP READING NOW or ENJOY YOUR HEX!"

Bill had written page after page of some weird code of gray and yellow-green dots and dashes. A few sentences in English—every one of them was a threatening message to Ford. "Everything would have been fantastic if you'd just helped me finish, Fordsy." "You'll regret not siding with me when you had the chance." "You should have known better than to let your idiot brother turn you against me." "Sixer, you're lying to yourself every time you say you never worshiped me, and you know it. You spent the first third of your life running away from the god you were raised with and the second third chasing after me. Don't waste your last third denying it. YOU'RE MINE." A small, worrying diagram of what looked like the interdimensional portal. And a sticker.

Wait, hold on.

A sticker. One of Mabel's. The rest of the page was the same as the others, the two-tone dots and dashes, except for the sticker, and an arrow drawn from one paragraph to the sticker.

A yellow smiley, its round edges filled in with black marker to make a triangle, over the words "Good job!"

Soos stared at the sticker.

####

A couple of weeks ago, Melody had texted to let Soos know that there was a mess in the upstairs bathroom, and the kids said they'd been fighting a werewolf ghost.

When Soos had gotten home the next morning, Melody had pulled him aside and quietly told him she hadn't wanted to worry him and the Stans, but she did not think it was a werewolf ghost.

When Soos saw the bathroom, he didn't think it was a werewolf ghost either.

It was a scene from a horror movie. Menacing magical sigils painted all over the walls in blood and toothpaste, Bill's zodiac painted on one mirror, the other mirror broken, glass and water all over the floor. It looked like the site of a really wet demon summoning. This contained none of the hallmarks of ghostly or werewolfish activity. Why would Bill do this?

Soos was kind of reluctant to ask Bill. Bill still sorta scared him sometimes. Sure, he looked like a lost 18-year-old, but Soos knew what teens were like in a fight. So he asked Mabel instead.

Mabel pursed her lips uncomfortably. "Ask Dipper."

So Soos asked Dipper.

Dipper winced and. "Promise you won't get mad."

Soos considered that. "Yeah, I guess that's a fair deal."

Dipper confessed that Bill got accidentally locked in the upstairs bathroom for like a whole day, because he and Mabel didn't hear him yelling. Not because they were out of the house when they shouldn't have been. They were just... somewhere else in the house. Doing something loud. For the whole day.

While Bill was trapped alone.

####

Soos had vented to Abuelita about cleaning the bathroom. Like sure, he got Bill was annoyed about being stuck, but that seemed excessive.

Abuelita had made the observation that sometimes people in profoundly bleak and oppressive situations would just... destroy whatever was around them. Like punching a hole in the wall or snapping a pencil when you were angry, but much more so. Not because they wanted their surroundings to be destroyed, but because that was the last and only thing they had power over, and they needed to feel like they were in control of something. Even if that thing was merely changing their environment from ordered to chaotic.

Bill didn't have control over very much. He probably hadn't since he died. Soos didn't know what kind of space triangle afterlife Bill had been in before he showed up as Toga Lady, but it couldn't have been great if he'd come straight back here.

Soos could remember the one time weeks ago he'd let Bill into the bathroom to shower and forgotten to come back and let him out. How Bill had screamed so all the Mystery Shack's tourists could hear; how he'd seethed in Soos's face, how he'd said he'd rather blow their collective cover and throw them all on the mercy of the town's law enforcement than remain locked in the bathroom a second longer than they'd agreed upon. Soos had thought Bill was just impatient and hotheaded.

Standing in the bathroom, looking at the material evidence of Bill's claustrophobic terror—the broken glass, the spilled blood—he wondered.

####

The same day, he had felt a breeze in the gift shop and found the trap doors to the roof left open. He'd climbed up, shut them, and in between tours he'd visited his office to check yesterday's security tapes. 

He saw Wendy coming into the shack to hang out the morning before. That was fine. Soos had discovered she did that from time to time on days the shack was closed, but she wasn't doing anything bad and she hadn't brought it up yet, so Soos didn't bring it up either. Maybe she just needed a private place to hang. Teen stuff. He was just glad Wendy felt that safe at the Mystery Shack. Maybe she'd just gone up to hang out on the roof and forgot to shut the trap doors...

And then, right there on screen, Soos saw Bill letting himself into the gift shop, through the door, which he shouldn't be able to open. A chill shot up Soos's back. The door curse was their only real means of containing Bill. If he could use doors now, he was out, there was no way they could trap him without doing something crazy like locking him in the bunker and hoping he didn't kill himself.

Or could he use doors? Soos thought back to the frantic messages on the bathroom wall, written in Bill's own blood—his desperation over being unable to escape. Maybe he could use doors but not doorknobs. That was okay, maybe?

On tape, he saw Wendy run into Bill. He saw Wendy take Bill onto the roof. Out in the open air, where he could just... do whatever. But he didn't do whatever. Soos fast-forwarded the tape until Wendy and Bill came back down, and Bill simply returned to the living room.

He'd had the perfect opportunity to shove Wendy off the roof or escape. He didn't take it.

If all Bill was using his new door skills for was ducking into the gift shop and hanging out on the roof with Wendy, Soos thought maybe it would be kinda mean to take that away from him. There weren't a lot of other places Bill could go in the shack. (Soos kept seeing the blood on the bathroom wall. He kept trying to imagine what kind of helplessness would drive someone that far.) Maybe Bill needed the open air.

So Soos had put the security tape on his desk, not sure what to do about it.

####

A couple of day after that, while Soos was restocking the gift shop in between waves of tourists, he'd seen Wendy reading an oddly dull-looking booklet instead of one of her usual magazines. He tilted his head to glance at the cover. The Oregon state driving manual. "Aw dude, gonna get your learner's permit?"

"Think so," Wendy said. "Don't tell my dad."

Soos remembered Wendy groaning about her dad wrangling her into doing errands if she ever got her license. "Your secret is safe with me."

"Thanks."

"What made you change your mind? You were totally against getting a license a week ago."

"It's probably those stupid Gleeful Auto commercials that have been worming into my dreams." Wendy laughed. "I'm just waking up in the morning like, neeeed caaar."

"Oh yeah! Heh, funny coincidence, Melody says she had a dream like that too. Sometimes she gets these like, dreams about monsters watching her in bed? But one time, the monster was Bud Gleeful, whispering in her ear about a big car sale. She totally woke up laughing!"

"Ha! Annoying car commercials should be banned, man. Why do we need to be told multiple times a day to spend thousands of dollars?"

"You make a salient point."

They fell silent for a moment as Wendy read a couple more paragraphs. Then she said, "That, plus... I was talking to Goldie the other day."

Soos looked up from the t-shirt he'd been putting on a clothes hanger. "Oh. Yeah?"

"About where we wanna go when we get out of town."

"Huh." Very casually, Soos asked, "What did Goldie say?"

"He wants to go on some big vacation. Like a world cruise or something, I dunno."

"Huh." Soos wondered if that was true. He tried to imagine Bill Cipher as a tourist. Floating triangle in a Hawaiian shirt with a camera hanging from a strap and a fanny pack. What kind of places would he even visit? Soos bet he wanted to visit the pyramids. Heh. (Was that stereotyping? Maybe that was stereotyping.)

"And I told him I'm moving to Portland for college."

"Oh, hey, I didn't know you were thinking about college."

"I... actually, never told anybody else before," Wendy said. "I've been thinking about it for years, but part of me felt like it's just a fantasy? But Goldie said when he got out of high school, he did the same thing—moved to another town, made a new group of friends, all that. And... I don't know, actually talking to him out loud about it just... made it feel real, you know? So I thought, if I'm gonna move to Portland, I should probably start planning for it. Starting with how I'm getting there." She held up the driving manual.

Soos nodded slowly. "Huh. Yeah. That's a pretty mature way to look at it."

And that was what Bill was talking to Wendy about on the roof? Just... listening to a teen vent and helping her figure out her future?

And so, Soos took the security tape off his desk and put it in a drawer.

####

A few days later, Soos had heard the downstairs bathroom sink running for several minutes, assumed someone had forgotten to turn it off, and went to turn it off himself—and had caught Bill, in the dark, half undressed, washing himself in the sink.

After Soos had backed out and profusely apologized, he'd asked, "But—how come you're washing in the sink? I can let you in the upstairs bathroom if you need—"

"Worry about your own grooming habits and leave mine alone," Bill snapped. "As long as I don't smell, what do you humans care how I do it. Soap is soap and water is water."

It took Soos several days to realize he didn't think Bill had had a shower since he got locked in the bathroom. And nobody had noticed, because Bill made sure nobody noticed, because he'd been keeping himself clean in the bathroom he couldn't get locked in.

####

Dipper would go all summer without showering if he could get away with it; Stan showered like once a week and had constant old man smell; Abuelita also showered weekly and had a more refined old lady smell; Soos didn't know when Ford showered, but he'd never caught him doing it and Ford always smelled weirdly like burned hair. Soos showered almost daily during tourist season—that Mr. Mystery suit was hot—but outside that might go three days at a time. Mabel showered near daily.

From what Soos had observed, Bill was showering like, at least twice a week. He didn't know how often Bill cleaned himself in the sink in between.

That meant he was showering more often than two-thirds of the house.

Yet he was the only one in the house living under the threat of being thrown in the tub at 3 a.m. if someone decided he hadn't bathed enough for their tastes.

The reason Bill had refused to shower during his first week of imprisonment was so he could use the condition of his body as a bargaining chip—with no physical possessions in the world, his own body was the only bargaining chip he had—to try to buy a little more dignity. In return, his captors had taken more dignity away. They permitted Bill less autonomy over how to take care of his body than the household's children had.

Dipper had never gotten forced into a bathroom he couldn't let himself out of.

####

The day after the eclipse, Ford had pulled Soos aside and said quietly, "Soos, as soon as you have some time—could you repair the door to the kids' room? Before the end of the day? The latch has been broken since the tooth fairy's attack."

"Uh, sure, I can probably do that," Soos said. "How come?" The latch had been broken for a couple weeks, and the Pines hadn't been worried about it before.

"Right now, the door can swing freely with just a push," Ford said. "I think Bill's figured out how to use that to get in. Which is worrisome, since he shouldn't be able to use any doors..."

"O-oh." Soos thought about the swinging door into the gift shop. "Yeah, uh... sounds bad. Byyy the way—how'd you figure out he knows how to use the door?"

"Dipper says Bill somehow got in and out of the room last night," Ford said. "Mabel fell asleep in the living room and Bill carried her upstairs. I really don't like the thought of Bill being able to get his hands on the kids while they're asleep and defenseless."

Ford was mad at Bill for tucking a kid into bed? That was the big red flag? "No problem! I'll fix the door right after work."

The next time Soos visited his office, he took the security tape out of his drawer, rewound it, stuck it back into the tape recorder, and let that day's security camera footage overwrite and erase the evidence of Bill's visit to the gift shop.

####

And now, today, carrying Journal 4 in both hands, Soos trudged downstairs, trying to figure out what to do with it. He had to return it to Ford, obviously—but Bill and the Stans were already in the middle of a discussion that sounded a lot more like an argument. Flinging a stolen journal into the middle of the proceedings would just make it worse. Maybe he should wait until they were finished and everyone had cooled down a little—?

While Soos was upstairs, the discussion had apparently moved into the kitchen. He hovered awkwardly at the bottom of the stairs, watching.

"What do you mean, you need kitchen access," Stan was asking, "you already have kitchen access. It's never been off-limits! Even after you peed in the sink!"

"It's not kitchen access if I need to ask someone else for permission to eat anything but snacks." 

"No one's making you ask for permission! You can take what you want!"

"Okay, fine. So what can I eat?" Bill gestures at the shelves. "Go on. List anything you can think of. Anything."

Stan grimaced, and glanced at Ford to see if he was willing to walk into the obvious trap first.

Ford looked at the nearby shelves. "Cereal."

"One point for Stanford Pines! Cereal! So am I supposed to eat dry cereal for every single meal, or—?"

"No, of course not."

"All right, then what else?"

"Brown meat," Stan said. "We've got plenty of brown meat. It's good for you!"

"You didn't give me can opener rights," Bill said.

"Huh."

"So no brown meat," Bill said. "No canned soup, no canned chili, no canned fruit, no canned vegetables—"

Ford cut in, "Some of the cans have pull tabs, you don't need a can opener for those."

"Terrific observation! As soon as you realized I could open those cans myself, you moved them all under the counter because you thought I'd use the sharp edges as weapons!"

"It's... possible to open cans without a can opener, I did it sometimes while roughing it in other dimensions—"

"Yeah, wearing off the metal rim with a rock, right? Lemme just go outside and grab a rock—oh wait." Bill crossed his arms.

Ford sighed, and turned to Stan to suggest something else.

Stan surveyed the available supplies, spotted the bread, and said, "You could make sandwiches!"

"With what filling?"

"Uh..." Stan kept looking.

Meats and cheeses, of course, were kept in the fridge. Along with jelly, condiments, most vegetables... tuna or spam weren't options, they were canned... "Hey, we leave out some meats that don't need refrigeration. Sausages and stuff."

"Right, right. The ones that don't need refrigeration because they're wrapped in plastic you need a knife to cut," Bill said. "Sometimes I bite the plastic open with my teeth and rip off chunks of sausage with my fingernails, that's always fun! Then you put the leftovers in the fridge, and I'm out of luck until we buy another sausage."

"You could put... peanut butter on your sandwiches?" Ford tried. "Peanut butter's nutritious."

Bill fixed him with a hard look. "For the past five weeks, every time I've gotten a meal without asking someone else to help feed me like a baby, I've had nothing but peanut butter and banana sandwiches, peanut butter and jerky sandwiches, peanut butter and raisin sandwiches, and peanut butter and potato chip sandwiches. And we're out of bananas, jerky, and raisins." He pointed at the tortillas. "Once I decided to get creative and made myself a cold peanut butter quesadilla! I can't even add spices, because guess where the breakable glass spice jars are kept?"

"Pasta," Ford tried. "We could keep the pasta out."

"Oh, wow, that'd be great! I just love pasta! But I can't open the microwave and I can't turn on the stove! How do I heat the water, Stanford?"

Ford frowned. "Hm."

"I can cook, you know—not that any of you bothered to ask! It might not suit your tastes, but it suits mine! I wouldn't need your help to eat if you didn't make me need help! I am sick to death—" his voice went thick and took on an uncharacteristic waver, "—of having to beg to... eat." He cleared his throat, squeezed his eyes shut, and rubbed his eyelids with one hand. "Sh-shouldn't even—need to eat." He clenched his jaw to keep it from trembling.

Stan and Ford exchanged a guilty look. Stan said, "You don't have to beg— I mean, we know the, uh... position you're in..."

Bill was silent for a moment as he tried to get a tough face back on. His voice came out as a rough whisper—too thick to get any louder without breaking. "I had to negotiate to get burnt eggs."

Ford winced.

Soos was dumbfounded.

When had Bill had to negotiate for food? He could all too easily understand how it might have happened—Bill was an annoying guy, sometimes they had to pull out dumb bargains to get him to do stuff. But bargaining for food should never be on that list. Meeting Bill's basic nutritional needs couldn't be dependent on whether he was annoying that day. If it was, he'd starve.

It sounded like he was starving. Right under Soos's roof. He hadn't even noticed.

He thought about the piles of junk food trash upstairs and the bag of chips Bill had hurled across the room.

Ford said, "We'll... discuss it."

"We'll figure something out," Stan said. "I mean it."

Bill nodded silently. Head down, without uncovering his eyes, he hurried out of the kitchen and toward the stairs.

He nearly bumped into Soos's chest without noticing him. Soos backed up a step, tucking Journal 4 under his arm. "Whoa, hey!"

Bill froze, head jerking up. "You." His voice was thick and his glare was watery and poisonous. "Don't you have anything better to do than eavesdrop?" He tried to elbow past Soos, smacking his leg with his umbrella. "Move."

Soos realized uneasily that Bill's face looked a little slimmer than it had when he'd arrived.

He stepped in Bill's way. "Can't go upstairs right now. Attic's being cleaned."

"I didn't ask you to clean!"

"I'm not cleaning for you, dawg. It's just gotta be cleaned."

"Fine! Whatever!" Bill veered around the staircase and stomped down the hall, muttering, "Can't decide when I eat, can't decide when I shower, why should I get to choose when my hovel's swept..."

Soos's leg hurt where Bill had smacked it. (Bill couldn't even control whether or not he cried; all he had control over was making someone else hurt.)

In the kitchen, Stan murmured, "Didn't even realize we don't keep anything decent out on the counters. They're so crowded..."

"Chip bags take up a lot of space." Ford sighed. "I assumed he'd get a serving with everyone else whenever Mrs. Ramirez cooks."

"He does, but she only does dinners. And he'll only eat it if he watched her cook it. I've seen him get lunch with Mabel, but I don't know what he does when she's not..." Stan spotted Soos on the stairs. He tiredly called, "Soos? You need something?"

"Uhhh..." Soos hid the journal behind his back. "Nope! I just thought I'd come downstairs! For no reason." He awkwardly walked up the stairs backwards, journal still tucked behind him. "And—and now I'm going up again." He stopped at the landing and scooted sideways up the next flight of stairs. "See ya."

He pressed the journal to his chest and returned to the attic.

####

When Soos and Abuelita moved into the shack, the first thing Soos had done was turn Ford's ground-floor study into a bedroom for Abuelita. Because she was a little old lady, and not quite as steady as she used to be, so Soos didn't want her constantly going up and down the stairs—because falling once, just ONCE, could send her to the hospital or worse. That was how serious it was! You don't mess around with that!

Bill tripped and fell on the stairs so often that they could use it to tell when he was awake. And nobody had thought to offer him a cane? Did anybody even ask if he was alright?

When Bill first arrived and tried to murder everyone, naturally, he came out of it pretty banged up and bruised. That was to be expected. It was self-defense. They'd gotten used to seeing Bill with scrapes on his arms and legs, rope burns around his ankles, and the angry purple-black bruises of chain links over his arms. But in all the weeks since then, Soos hadn't seen Bill bruise-free once. Bruises on his shins and arms, scrapes on his elbows and knees. Soos had seen him with a four-inch burn on his forearm. Bill had brushed it off.

In Bill's first few days in the shack, he'd resorted to peeing in the kitchen sink because nobody had bothered to give a guy who couldn't open doors a way to use the bathroom. And they were the reason he couldn't open doors in the first place!

He threw up in the living room in the middle of the night and went upstairs to sleep on couch cushions on the floor and nobody had talked about it.

He burned off all his hair and was so upset about it that he stole Soos's zodiac blanket and hid under it for half a week, and everyone but Mabel just ignored him.

In less than a month in the Mystery Shack, Bill had lost a tooth.

He had been dragged out of the house during a weird weather phenomenon while terrified out of his mind. Soos had seen Bill cowering on the ground in fear, Ford looming over him, grabbing him by the collar and snarling in rage. Bill had been pleading with everyone in hearing range not to make him go, and had come back in such a state of shock he could hardly walk. 

And yet, he'd protected the whole town from getting hurt in zero gravity—and he'd brought a pet for Soos.

They'd tried to execute Bill two days later.

####

Soos sat in the window seat, flipping through the remaining filled-in pages in Journal 4. The last few pages were packed with stickers. A cat that said PURRFECT! A smiling fish that said A REEL PAL! Bill had started a little collection of pizza slice stickers for some reason. A couple of holographic rainbows, a smiling scratch-and-sniff sun. (Apparently, the sun smelled like lemons and oranges. Astronomy facts!)

Soos reached the current page. Bill was using several pieces of paper—regular printer paper and notebook paper, folded in half—like a bookmark. Soos unfolded them. A list of animals ranked by fuzziness. (Soos was satisfied that he'd been placed under the "smooth and squishy" category, but wondered whether he should be bothered by the fact that he shared the category with pigs and slugs.) A drawing of Bill riding a looping rocket ship and waving a fishbowl helmet above him. A drawing of a blue house with a couple of kids and a pig in the window. Several drawings of shape people kinda like Bill: a pink heart person labeled "Me in Flatworld," a stern-looking red stop sign wearing sunglasses labeled "Bill's parole officer," Bill dancing, the pink heart protecting Bill from some villainous-looking shapes—all clearly Mabel's art.

Several notebook pages in someone else's handwriting detailing names, addresses, and contact information, with statements Soos couldn't make sense of—as if maybe someone had been asking somebody else questions and writing down their answers. He thought the questions might be about how some people had reacted to the end of Weirdmageddon. He got the impression the people being discussed had known that Weirdmageddon was coming. He got the impression they were disappointed it hadn't happened. There were several questions at the end: How will we rendes-vouz? (Whoever was writing didn't know how to spell rendezvous, but to be fair Soos wasn't 100% sure either.) What supplies do you need? What are your interim orders?

Soos stared at the notebook papers.

He flipped back through the journal again, looking at each page more closely.

Sometimes the two-tone dot-and-dash segments had a stray human word: a few characters he recognized from his Teach Yourself Japanese workbooks, sometimes words Soos thought might be Arabic but honestly he didn't have a clue. At one point he listed half a dozen human names that Soos didn't recognize. The most common character was a stretched-out letter M (Mabel?), followed by a 6 knocked on its side (Sixer?).

The dot-and-dash segments had occasional amateurish illustrations. Sometimes they were human stick figures; sometimes the stick figures' heads had symbols off of Bill's zodiac wheel. He saw Stan's fish symbol, Gideon's star symbol, and Mabel's shooting star symbol. Ford's stick figures were the only ones with hands; Bill consistently gave them six fingers. The doodles were like particularly esoteric cave drawings; they were so bad that Soos couldn't tell what most of them were supposed to illustrate.

Except for one featuring Bill (as a triangle) and Mabel and some other inscrutable figures in a really awesome car with flames on the side, its coolness limited only by the fact that it was all in gray and yellow-green crayon. When Soos had been in high school, there had always been a couple of kids who didn't know how to draw anything except expensive cars or name-brand sports shoes, but they drew them in extreme realistic detail. Apparently, Bill was that kind of artist. Nothing but stick figures and the sickest crayon car Soos had ever seen.

It didn't do anything to dispel Soos's impression of Bill as a lost alien 18-year-old.

On one page, in sloppy lines of handwriting that meandered drunkenly up and down the paper, Bill had written, "I don't get why you won't give me a second shot. I asked you to join my gang. I serenaded you in a pyramid. I got a fantastic makeover. I offered you godhood. I showed you my dimension. I didn't torture you until I had to. I even made you a skin couch! I know how much you've always wanted a leather furniture set! I've given you everything from chicken zombification magic to jelly beans, what does it take? What am I missing?"

Soos reread Bill's other messages to Ford. All that "you'll regret not siding with me" junk wasn't threats. It was the impotent rage of a socially inept teenager who didn't understand his own creepiness had driven his friends away. It was the whiny moan of some guy going "Why doesn't she like me anymore" about an ex-girlfriend who had told him five times she didn't like him anymore because he didn't listen to her. Like that guy Wendy dated last summer. So like, a jerk, but not a terrifying world-ending monster jerk, just an annoying creep jerk. A regular jerk. A human jerk.

Soos stood, gave one last look at this journal—clearly stolen, definitely a violation of Bill's "no writing materials" restriction, completely stuffed full of mysterious messages to outsiders and some kind of weird alien code that could say anything at all and might have been super dangerous—and he slid it back into the ripped seam in the attic seat cushion where he'd found it.

He finished vacuuming up the potato chips Bill had flung across the room, thinking about how offended Bill had been that Soos had given him any food except what he'd asked for, remembering what Abuelita had said about people who destroy the things around them when they feel like that's the last and only thing they still have power over.

Enough was enough.

####

(Hope y'all enjoyed! Next week we may interrupt our regularly-scheduled programming to post a TBOB-based chapter I'm inserting early into the fic—it depends on if I get it done by next Friday. In the meantime, I'm looking forward to hearing y'all's thoughts on this chapter!)

[k-nayee]

Muse Benson Boone

wc: 3.2k a/n: Song Inspiration: once again Death Wish Love by Benson Boone; recommend you listen while reading!! ngl y'all, I kinda have it down bad for ya boi here. smh just had to make one for him😭😭

Traveler M.List

ˏ⸉ˋ‿̩͙‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˏ⸉ˋ‿̩͙‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˏ⸉ˋ‿̩͙‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙.·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .‿̩̥̩‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˊ⸊ˎ‿̩̥̩‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˊ⸊ˎ‿̩̥̩‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˊ⸊ˎ

It wasn’t hard to remember the first time you met Benson Boone.

You hadn’t expected much from the day, just a casual introduction Katy insisted on making when he was fresh off American Idol.

I mean, the Katy Perry? Who were you to refuse?

Besides you weren’t exactly a seasoned pro yourself—still finding your own rhythm in the music industry.

And so, it started off with little things: drafts of songs, small tweaks here and there.

You helped him refine early tracks, most notably Ghost Town—the one that truly put him on the map.

After that he started coming to you more and more. As his fame grew, so did your friendship. Pretty soon you became one of his permanent co-writers.

Now years later, you’d both grown up around each other. You’d seen him go through breakups, career stresses, and moments of doubt.

And he’d seen you juggle college, deal with your own personal issues, and (more than once) whine about how finding a decent guy seemed impossible.

Benson would always chuckle at that and tease you with lighthearted remarks, but you both knew that dating wasn’t really something you prioritized.

Maybe it was because of your grandfather’s old-school advice—always reminding you that most men wanted one thing which was what was between your legs.

It was drilled into your head so much that even when someone did show interest, you were quick to put them off.

Benson had been the exception to a lot of your rules though. Him and that attractive boy-next-door smile and the messy curls....

Ahem. Anyways.

There was even a brief period of time (you 18, him 20) when you felt a flicker of something more.

You would be hyper-aware of his closeness, how your heart would skip when he leaned in too close. But you’d buried those feelings fast.

He was your friend and he didn’t need you complicating that.

Now at 19, you were over it. Whatever crush you’d harbored was long gone, and Benson seemed content with your dynamic too.

He had never shown any romantic interest in you—he was always tangled up in his own relationships. And you?

You had your songwriting, your studies, and your life to keep you busy. There was no room to think about him like that.

But things had a funny way of changing...

You were in the studio with Benson. He was sitting across from you, head tipped back as he stared up at the ceiling in frustration.

“I don’t know,” he mutters, finally breaking the silence, “I just feel like everything I’m writing sounds the same.”

You glance up from your laptop, eyebrow raised. “You’re in a funk. It happens.”

He groans in response, still staring at the ceiling. “Yeah but it’s more than that. I want to try something new...something different.”

You lean back in your chair and wait for him to elaborate. He sits up suddenly, eyes narrowing with thought before they flicker to yours.

“I’ve been thinking,” he begins before pausing for dramatic effect. “What if I tried something in the country genre?”

A surprised laugh escapes your lips before you can stop it. “Country music? You?”

He rolls his eyes in attempt to play it off as if it’s no big deal, but you can see the determination behind them. “Why not?”

You lean forward with a smirk. “Let me guess: bit by the Cowboy Cater bug, huh? Beyoncé's album got you feeling all rustic and rugged?”

He laughed a little flustered, shaking his head. “No it’s not that. I just—” He hesitated, and that’s when you caught it.

Beneath his usual confidence there was something else. Uncertainty.

Benson was never unsure when it came to his music, but this? It was new territory for him.

“I want to branch out, you know? Try something that’s different from what I’ve been doing.”

You watched him carefully, noticing the way his fingers drummed lightly against the armrest of his chair.

For all the joking, there was a frustration underneath it. He felt he wasn’t as creative as he usually was and it was bothering him.

After a beat of silence, you nod and cross your arms. “I get it. You’re ready to shake things up.”

“Exactly,” his expression relaxes a little as he saw you weren’t just teasing him anymore.

You pause when a spark of an idea hits you. “You know...I think I might know just the place to help kickstart your country boy era.”

His eyebrows lift. “Oh?”

A grin spread across your face.  “What if we went to my hometown? You’ll find all the inspiration you need there.”

There’s a beat of silence as Benson considers your offer, his lips curving into a soft smile. “You’d really take me down there?”

“Why not?” you say with a shrug. “Could be fun. And you’ll get all the authentic country vibes you’re looking for.”

He chuckles with a small nod. “Alright,” he said. “Let’s do it.”

You beamed, already buzzing with excitement. “Great! I’ll book everything. Trust me you’re going to love it.”

He smiled back, his gaze lingering on you just a second too long before he turned away. “I trust you.”

════════════════*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═════════════════

The moment you and Benson roll into your hometown, the air feels different.

It’s been a while since you’ve been back home, and the nostalgia washes over you in waves the closer you drive.

You catch Benson glancing out the window as if he's trying to soak in the vibe of the small Southern town.

After a few minutes of driving, he finally breaks the silence. “So...are we heading straight to the hotel?”

You glance at him with a sly grin. “Actually I’ve got a better idea.”

He raises an eyebrow intrigued but doesn’t press. He’s always trusted you, especially when it comes to things like this. 

It doesn’t take long before you’re pulling up to the familiar gates of Chickadee Country Club.

As the headlights sweep over the sign, memories of summer jobs, long shifts, and late-night laughs flood your mind.

Rolling down the window as you approach the security gate, the guard’s flashlight flickers over your car before the beam lands on you.

A wide grin breaks across the guard’s face the moment he recognizes you. “Well I’ll be damned! Ain’t that [Mom Name]’s girl? What you doin’ down here sweetheart? Thought you’d be up there with the big-time celebs writin’ them songs and whatnot.”

You roll your eyes already smiling. “Very funny, Earl. I’m here for a job.”

Earl lets out a laugh, his wrinkled face creasing in amusement. “A job huh? What, you run outta money already?”

“Ha ha, ya got me.” you say dryly, shooting him a sarcastic look. “Now will you let me through Earl? Or are you gonna keep me out here all night ya old coot?”

Earl chuckles as the gate slowly begins to open.

“Well since ya asked so nicely,” he drawls, flashing you a wink. “Don’t get lost now. Place ain’t changed much, but it still got a way of confusin’ city folk.”

As you pull through Benson snorts beside you. “Ran out of money huh?” he asks with a teasing grin as you park into the parking space.

You shrug. “Times are tough.”

Stepping out of the car, you glance back at him as he follows. “C’mon. I want to show you where the magic happens.”

Benson lets out a low whistle. “So this is where you worked?”

“Yup. Chickadee Country Club. I basically lived here for years.”

He raise an eyebrow as he get into step beside you. “So what did you do here? Let me guess—bev cart girl?”

You let out a loud laugh at that. “God, no. Everything else but that. Food running, banquet serving, bartending... you name it, I did it.”

“Bartending before 21?” His eyes widen slightly as he looks over at you. “But isn't that like—”

“Illegal?” You shoot him a mischievous smirk, leaning in just a little closer. “Just don’t tell anyone. Shhhh”

He lets out a laugh at that, the sound warm in the cooling night air.

Your smile soften at the sight, but before he could notice you brush it off and elbow him lightly.

“Welp! Who knows,” you jump a head of him with a pep in your step, “might even meet the love of your life here.”

Benson huffs with a shake of his head as he watches you head toward the glass doors of the club.

His gaze lingers, the fondness inside his chest growing the longer he watches you.

“Yeah,” he mutters to himself. “Hopefully.”

*.·:·.☽✧✧☾.·:·.* 

You push open the glass doors of the country club, stepping into the familiar scent of polished wood and faint lemon cleaner.

It’s closing time and the place is quiet, but you can already hear the distant chatter of a few late-night staffers finishing up for the evening.

Benson lingers behind you, eyes sweeping over the dark wood paneling and framed photos of golf tournaments long past.

“____! Well look what the cat dragged in!”

You barely have time to react before Mirabel, one of your old coworkers, rushes up to you with open arms.

She pulls you into a tight hug, her dark curls bouncing as she lets out an excited squeal.

“Mirabel!” you laugh as you hug her back. “Long time no see.”

Mirabel pulls away just long enough to look you up and down, her eyes sparkling with surprise. “Señorita where have you been? I thought you’d abandoned us all for the fancy Hollywood life!”

“Not quite,” you joke before perking up when your gaze fell on a familiar petite figure hunched over the computer nearby.

Taylor. She hasn’t changed a bit—still the same auburn ponytail bouncing behind her and freckles splashed across her pale skin like stars in the night sky.

You grab Benson’s arm in excitement as you whisper, “You want country inspiration right?”

Without waiting for an answer you pull him towards her.

“Taylor!” you call once close enough.

The redhead glances up, and for a split second, confusion crosses her face before recognition hits.

Her expression transforms and lights up like a firework. “Well slap my ass and call me a biscuit! ____! Where the hell have you been girl?”

Her thick Southern twang makes you giggle as you rush over to give her a tight hug. “I’ve been round! You know, making music and living that L.A. life. But I’m back for a few days to work on a new project.”

Taylor's green eyes brighten with curiosity. “Oh yeah? What kinda project?”

You glance back at Benson who’s offering a sheepish smile.

Before you can even introduce him, Taylor’s eyes widen and her jaw drops.

“Oh my God,” she's starstruck. “Benson Boone! I didn’t know you were friends with the Benson Boone!”

You suppress a laugh as Benson waves shyly. “Hi uh...nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet—girl, do you know how fine he is in real life?” Taylor mutters under her breath, though loud enough for you to hear.

You bite back a grin knowing full well that Benson heard it too by the way he flushes.

“Yeah I’ve noticed,” you reply with a wink, earning a playful slap on the arm from Taylor.

She’s just about to launch into another flurry of questions, the sound of fast-approaching footsteps catches your attention.

“My baby!” 

Before you can react, you’re snatched into a familiar embrace and smothered in kisses.

“Oh ____! My sweet baby!” Your mom’s voice echoes in the lobby as she holds onto you, her grip like iron. “When did you get here? You weren’t even gonna tell your own mama you were home?”

“Hey Ma...” you mumble, struggling to breathe as she finally pulls back.

Your mom’s tearful face quickly morphs into one of irritation, and before you can say a word, she smacks you upside the head. “Uh ow?”

“Now when the hell did you get here? And where are you even staying?” she demands, hands on her hips now. “You couldn’t even come stay at the house? What, you ashamed of where you were raised?!”

“Ma please,” you groan, already feeling the heat of embarrassment crawl up your neck as you catch Benson’s teasing gaze from the corner of your eye. “I just got in tonight, and I’m staying at a hotel because—well, there won't be any room at the house. I’ve got company.”

You gesture over to Benson who offers your mom an awkward wave. Her stern expression melts instantly the moment she sees him.

“Oh? And who is this handsome fella?” She strides over to Benson, sizing him up with a playful smile. Her hand reaches out to pinch his cheek. “You ____’s boyfriend?”

“Ma!” You practically shriek, feeling your face heat up.

“That’s Benson Boone Miss [Mom’s Name],” Taylor chimes in, still wide-eyed and giddy. “He’s like, one of the biggest artists right now. You know that song Ghost Town? That’s him!”

Your mom’s eyebrows shoot up, her smile widening with delight. She turns back to you with an amused glint in her eye.

“Oh Benson...Ain’t he that boy you used to gush about all the time? Didn’t you have the biggest crush on him or something?”

Your stomach flips and you feel like the ground just dropped out from under you.

'Did she really just say that?' You’re suddenly hyper-aware of Benson standing right beside you, and when you glance at him, you can see the surprise in his eyes.

He’s looking at you now, and it makes your pulse race.

“Wha—I—” you stammer, trying to think of anything to say that will save you from this situation. “I didn’t—psssh, what are you—” You wave your hand dismissively, avoiding Benson’s eyes completely.

“Anyway uh, Taylor!” You shift gears so fast you nearly give yourself whiplash. “I heard you’re throwing a party tonight. Mind if we crash?”

Taylor’s head perks up immediately, her excited energy pulling everyone back into a lighter mood. “Oh! You saw my post huh? Yeah we’re havin’ a get-together at the ranch. Y’all should definitely come!”

She turns to your mom. “Miss [Mom’s Name], you wanna join too?”

Your mom waves her off with a chuckle. “Oh honey, I’m not as spry as I used to be for these late-night things.”

Taylor leans in conspiratorially. “My single uncle’s gonna be there...you know, the one with the salt-n-pepper beard?”

Your mom raises an eyebrow. “The one with the big truck and cattle ranch?”

Taylor nods eagerly. 

Without missing a beat, your mom starts unties her apron and toss it onto a nearby table. “Well what are we waitin’ for then? Let’s get to that party!”

*.·:·.☽✧✧☾.·:·.* 

As you and Benson pull up to Taylor’s family ranch, the sounds of laughter and music spill into the air.

The party’s already in full swing—bonfires flickering across the open field and the twang of guitars blending with the rhythm of boots stomping on wooden boards.

You can see people dancing in pairs, moving in perfect sync as the night seems to pulse with life.

Benson stood next to you. His eyes dart everywhere, from the rows of fairy-string lights that hung between the trees to the smoky haze from the fire pits that slowly disappeared into the star-filled sky.

You can tell he’s taking it all in—the Southern atmosphere, the energy, the warmth of it all.

“Overwhelmed yet?” your tone is light when you ask with a grin.

He chuckles and shake his head. “Nah this is...different. In a good way.”

“Well get ready to be fully indoctrinated into Southern fun,” you tease before stepping toward the party. “Come on city boy.”

He follows behind you, staying close by your side.

There’s a brief pause when you both reach the edge of the party. It almost seemed like the music’s vibrations are in the air itself, buzzing with a wild kind of energy.

Taylor spots you immediately from where she’s mingling with some friends and makes a beeline for you. “Well look at what the wind blew in!” she exclaims.

In one hand she holds a light-up cowboy hat, and in the other, a bundle of glowstick necklaces. “Here y’all gonna need these.”

She places the cowboy hat on your head with a flourish and tosses a couple of glowsticks over Benson’s shoulders, the neon bands glowing faintly against his dark shirt.

Benson laughs, awkwardly adjusting the glowsticks around his neck. “What do you think? Do I look the part?”

You smirk, tugging the hat lower on your head. “You’re getting there. Just need to find you a pair of cowboy boots and you’ll be all set.”

Taylor nudges you with her elbow. “C'mon! What are y’all? Stalks of corn waiting to be shucked or sum? Get out there and have some fun!”

Letting out a laugh, you turn to Benson who’s watching the dancers with something like curiosity—and maybe just a hint of apprehension.

“You decide what you’re gonna write about yet wannabe-country boy?” You peer at him through your lashes, leaning closer so he can hear you speak over the loud music.

Your warm breath against his skin makes him shiver.

You miss the way his gaze flickers to your lips before darting back to your eyes, his cheeks flushing ever so slightly.

He clears his throat, trying to shake off the strange unexpected reaction. “Uh...n-not yet no.”

Your smile softens and you give him a reassuring nudge. “You’ll get there. You always do. Just let me know when inspiration strikes, ‘kay?”

With that, you give him a final playful wink before spinning away to join Taylor on the dance floor.

You’re immediately pulled into the rhythm of the music, laughing as Taylor spins you around.

From the sidelines Benson watches, standing next to your mom who has already struck up a conversation with someone nearby (but she kept an eye on him).

And honestly? He can’t take his eyes off you.

Under the string lights and with the bonfire flickering in the distance, there’s something different about you tonight.

You’re radiant, laughing freely as your face lights up with a glow that has nothing to do with the hat Taylor tossed on your head.

You move through the world so effortlessly, so full of life....

It was in this moment Benson realized just how much he enjoys your presence.

Yeah he always loved having you around, but now there’s something else—a shift, subtle but undeniable.

Lyrics begin to form through his mind, each word tied to the way you moved, to the weight of this new unfamiliar feeling.

How could something so delicate also be dangerous?

His heart beats a little faster, like he’s seeing you for the first time.

You glance back at him from the dance floor and something warm and unfamiliar settles in his chest.

I get so terrified that I’m gonna lose you...And I’ll die if I do...

You smile and wave him over, but Benson stays where he is. Instead he's frozen by this sudden, terrifying realization that he might be falling for you.

As if sensing what he was thinking, your mom nudges him gently. “Found your inspiration yet sweetheart?”

Her voice pulls him back to the present, but his gaze never leaves as you dance under the glow of the lights.

A soft, breathless sigh escapes him as he answers, his voice barely above a whisper. “Yeah...I think I have.”

It's a death wish love...

[starwrighter]

Hi! So I just read your Subnautica DcxDp AU. I really enjoyed it and am looking forward to the next chapter(s)! So I don't know what you have planned (and haven't even read though all your asks just yet so I am sorry if you have already talked about this) but I was thinking about some of the stories that have "eldritch Danny" where he has alternate forms, some of which are much bigger then his normal Phantom forms (like his space noodle, or "leviathan" forms), so he might not be a *tiny* baby to the Leviathans forever! And he is bio-luminescent! I haven't played Subnautica (yet, it is on my list) so I am not sure what all is original to this story and what exactly is from the video game so there is that. He is thinking it is something artificial blocking his abilities but I wonder if it is more something inherent to the planet/Solar system. Danny does seem to be recovering his powers though, so I am wondering if he is adapting to whatever is blocking them? He does seem to adapt to things in the DP canon as well so that is interesting if it is the case. I wonder how long it is going to be before Jazz, Sam, and Tucker, notice his ship has gone missing, and start to use the Ghost Zone, to go look for him... I mean if asked nicely Frostbite would probably use the Infi-map to see if they can reach him. I also can't wait until Danny and the Batfam can talk to each other, I am guessing that what they are picking up is Danny's "ghost speak" empathy but he is not able to understand them because they are using true telepathy which he doesn't have (yet, as mentioned above Danny, and his powers, seem to be adaptive and I don't doubt he will figure it out). I think Dami will be upset when Danny tells them about how he felt like Dami was treating him like a pet, also how close Dami came to crushing his habitat when he was curled around it... One thing about them is I don't think that they would be all that surprised at him switching forms, considering what they can do! So yeah, I really enjoyed reading what is up on AO3 and am looking forward to the rest. Sorry about the wall-o-text message! Have a lovely day TfW K-

The wall of text is totally fine lol Thanks for the ask.

I recommend you play subnautica it’s one of the coolest games I’ve ever played. The crushing loneliness of being the only survivor figuring out what’s going on on planet 4546b while slowly dying of Kharaa gives the game a vibe of desperation I’ve only seen in a few other games.

——

Danny wouldn’t be little forever but he would be the family’s baby forever considering they are over a thousand years older than him. Danny will have a leviathan form but that’s a long ways away considering currently Danny’s main goal is to get off the planet and return home. The leviathan Bat Clan wouldn’t be surprised by Danny’s transformation but they would be surprised about the powers. To them Danny’s grocery list of superpowers would be like seeing a toddler carrying around a loaded rocket launcher and a backpack full of bear trap!

——-

Danny’s powers being affected by 4546b’s solar system is a really cool idea! It really fits with the idea of Danny having a space obsession. I have a plan for why Danny’s powers are malfunctioning that I won’t spoil. But it does have something to do with both the Precursor’s Thermal power plant and Danny’s body reacting to the Kharaa infection.

——-

It’s going to take a while for Sam, Jazz, and everyone else to realize somethings happened to the ship. Alterra is already a shady corporation that keeps secrets and conveniently the Aurora went down outside of confederation space. Danny’s friends and Family are expecting Danny to be gone for months without much contact so it’s probably going to be when Danny’s doesn’t come home as expected and the phase gate hasn’t been built like Alterra promised that they start their rescue efforts.

As for the infi-map for the same reason Danny can’t use his powers well on 4546b other’s can’t use such items and abilities either. The precursors, while unaware of the infinite rhelms themselves were extremely prepared when it came to quarantining the planet.

———

Damian would be crushed that Danny thought he thought of him as a pet. He’d be even more upset when he found out he could’ve killed Danny by wrapping himself around his base.

Tim and Danny would be having a very long conversation about what Danny’s found out about the precursors and about his species himself.

[cod-thoughts]

There is a road that leads to home

Word count: 48.9k (yup o_o)

Relationships: GhostPrice, PriceGhost

Tags: PricGhostweek2024, Soulmate AU, Soulmate marks, getting together, second chances, hurt/comfort, fluff, they love each other, teeny tiny bit of suggestive themes but more cause Ghost is flirty as fuck.

Day 7 of GhostPrice week: "fate" and the title is from "A story never told" - Opeth

Everyone knew about soulmates. They were as much a part of life as birthdays or growing pains—inevitable, unavoidable, something you didn’t have to think about until the moment it happened to you. It was a rite of passage, or at least that was how the adults had described it. Like an appointment you couldn’t skip or a birthday you couldn’t miss, even if you weren’t ready for it. Sometime between the ages of ten and twelve, they’d said, your mark would appear. A short phrase, written on your skin, that would be the first words your soulmate ever said to you. OR A GhostPrice soulmate AU Read the first chapter under the cut and the rest can be found on AO3

Soulmates were the kind of thing Simon Riley had learned to think of as other people’s business. They belonged to the couples holding hands in the streets, to the kids at school showing off their marks with a pride he could never quite understand, and to the kind of life he couldn’t quite picture for himself. It wasn’t that he didn’t believe in soulmates—not exactly—but the concept felt distant, like a story he’d overheard in passing and never fully grasped.

He sat cross-legged on the floor of his small bedroom, his back pressed against the bedframe. The wooden edge bit into his shoulders, a faint and familiar discomfort. The worn carpet beneath him scratched faintly against his legs, its texture rougher where the threads had frayed with age. His jumper, stretched thin from too many winters and too few replacements, did little to shield him from the creeping chill that seeped through the cracks in the room. He tugged the cuffs down over his hands, the loose, unravelling fabric dangling awkwardly past his fingers as if trying to hide him from the cold.

The streetlamp outside cast a pale, flickering light through the gap in the curtains, slicing the dim room into uneven patches of light and shadow. One beam landed squarely on the carpet in front of him, turning the grey fibres an almost silver hue, while the rest of the room remained cloaked in a soft, unyielding gloom. He traced the edge of the carpet absently, fingers finding the loose threads with a practised kind of familiarity, tugging at them just enough to feel the resistance but never enough to unravel them completely.

Everyone knew about soulmates. They were as much a part of life as birthdays or growing pains—inevitable, unavoidable, something you didn’t have to think about until the moment it happened to you. It was a rite of passage, or at least that was how the adults had described it. Like an appointment you couldn’t skip or a birthday you couldn’t miss, even if you weren’t ready for it. Sometime between the ages of ten and twelve, they’d said, your mark would appear.

A short phrase, written on your skin, that would be the first words your soulmate ever said to you.

The idea had always sounded strange to Simon, the notion that a few words could mean so much. But people believed in it. They cherished their marks, carried them like tiny pieces of destiny etched into their bodies. The location of the mark was supposed to mean something too—a clue about your soulmate, like a treasure map waiting to be deciphered.

Marks on hands or wrists were common, the kind of places people naturally reached for when they met someone important. Others were bolder, etched along collarbones or resting close to the heart, symbols of intimacy and pride. Those with marks in unexpected places, tucked away on ankles, shoulders, or the curve of a rib, often spoke of their soulmates with an air of mystery, as if fate had hidden the words on purpose, just to make their story that much more compelling.

The one thing everyone seemed to agree on, though, was the moment soulmates met. When the words were finally spoken aloud.

It burned.

Not just a tingle, not even a spark, but an all-consuming, undeniable heat that branded itself into your very being. People said it wasn’t something you could miss, no matter how distracted or oblivious you might be. It was unmistakable. The kind of feeling that forced you to stop, to recognise it, to understand. You didn’t have to question it, didn’t have to wonder or doubt. It was how you’d know, beyond anything else, that this was your person.

Simon didn’t know what to think about that. At school, he kept his head down when his classmates whispered about their marks, their voices barely hushed, filled with a mix of awe and envy that rippled through the group. One boy had shown off the small phrase curving neatly over his forearm*—“You dropped this”*—with a grin that didn’t leave his face for days. He’d rolled up his sleeve at every opportunity, basking in the attention like he’d just been handed a trophy. A girl had mumbled something about hers being on her ankle, her voice shy but threaded with pride.

Simon stayed quiet. The air around him felt heavier in those moments, like their excitement might crush him if he lingered too long. He wasn’t sure anyone would ask him what he thought, but if they did, he didn’t have an answer. Soulmates felt like something too big, too distant, and he wasn’t ready to reach for it. He wasn’t sure he wanted to.

The low hum of the television downstairs filtered through the walls, a muted backdrop to the sharp, cutting sound of his father’s voice. The cadence was familiar—anger that swelled and fell like the tide, unpredictable yet constant. The words were indistinct, but the tone was unmistakable—edged with anger, rising and falling in bursts that made Simon flinch. His fingers pressed harder into the carpet, his heart beating a little faster.

He leaned back against the bedframe, letting his eyes drift to the ceiling. Cracks ran along the plaster like veins, weaving patterns that his mind tried and failed to make sense of. Some of the lines intersected, forming vague shapes—a jagged star, a crooked branch—but none of it seemed to settle into anything real. The cold air brushed against his skin, sharper in the places where his jumper had pulled away.

Then it hit.

A warmth, faint at first, pulsed low on his thigh. It wasn’t the kind of warmth that came and went, like brushing too close to a heater or wrapping your hands around a cup of tea. He froze, the sensation growing stronger—tingling, steady, undeniable. His hands moved instinctively, fingers brushing against the skin just above his knee. It was smooth, unbroken, but… something was there.

He stared as faint lines began to form, like ink bleeding up from beneath the surface. It spread slowly, deliberately, as though the words had been waiting just beneath his skin all along. His breath hitched, a sharp sound in the quiet room, as the words took shape with deliberate precision:

“You’re early.”

Simon’s chest rose and fell with shallow breaths, his heart thundering as he traced the mark with trembling fingers. The sensation lingered, a faint hum just beneath the surface, like the heat was reluctant to leave. The words were dark, neat, and somehow ordinary against his pale skin. But they weren’t ordinary. Not by a long shot.

Soulmates were supposed to love you, weren’t they? For who you were, not who they wanted you to be. The thought sent a flicker of warmth through his chest, but it faded quickly. He glanced at the door, half-expecting it to burst open. He could already picture his father’s voice cutting through the air, sharp and jagged as broken glass.

The mark was strange—its placement, its meaning. He knew the stories, the way marks appeared where your soulmate was supposed to touch you most often. It didn’t make sense. This wasn’t the curve of a hand reaching for yours or a place someone might rest their head. It wasn’t hidden or intimate, not like some of the others he’d heard about. Just… there.

His fingers hovered over the words. “You’re early.” Early for what? For who?

The door creaked open a fraction, and Simon’s whole body tensed. His mum’s voice filtered through the gap, soft but tentative. “Simon? You alright in there?”

His mouth felt dry, but he managed a reply. “Yeah.”

A pause. Then, “Dinner’s ready, love. Come down when you’re ready.”

Her voice lingered for a moment longer than usual, as though she wanted to say more but couldn’t quite find the words. He didn’t answer right away. His mum’s footsteps retreated, and he waited until the sound faded before letting out a slow, shaky breath.

She tried. He knew that. But trying wasn’t the same as doing, and the guilt of knowing he couldn’t help her—couldn’t fix anything—curled around him like a second skin. It was heavy, that guilt, weighing him down in ways he didn’t fully understand yet.

The mark hadn’t changed. It sat there, unyielding and permanent, as real as the cracks in the ceiling. He ran his fingers over it again, half-expecting the words to vanish, to smudge away like writing on a fogged-up mirror. But they stayed, stubborn and solid. Maybe he didn’t hate the idea of a soulmate. Maybe he just couldn’t imagine someone ever loving him.

For now, it was just a set of words on his thigh, a promise he didn’t know how to keep. He tugged his shorts down to cover it, his fingers brushing the fabric absently as he leaned back once more.

If someone out there was meant for him, maybe they’d find him. Maybe not.

But the thought stayed with him, quiet and warm, as he closed his eyes. It was a small thing, that warmth, but it was enough to cling to for now.

[chessiecc]

Imagine ignoring the 141 guys because your reading a book and don't want to be bothered. They think you live with the reality of books more than people and that you may regret it.

♤ Price would just confiscate the book and keep it with him. Basically, signaling a time out. It's time for you to go hang out with the team and stop living in another world you can live in later. He would be more or less silent about it and would give it back once he felt you had enough time without it.

♡ Ghost would confiscate it as well but give you a harsh, "Stop fucking reading and go touch some grass."

◇ Soap would older brother it. Especially to get your attention. This would end up with you on top of a vending machine, wrestling on the floor, or attempting to chase down Soap from stealing your book. Eventually, if you stopped chasing him or never started, he would come and hang out (after putting it somewhere). Try to get you out of the barracks and attached to other people than your book friends.

♧ Gaz would take the book as well, but may be more inclined to hide it somewhere. He may take it and lock himself in the bathroom while reading it out loud until you agreed to get out and do real people things.

If you ignored them and just grabbed another book to read (or opened it on your phone)

♤ Price would have you sit next to him for the next couple of days after a disappointed dad bit. This or set a few tasks that you "voluntarily need to complete." He would not mind having his Leuitenant see that you were understanding it. He had a reason. you're going to get it.

♡ Ghost does not like to repeat himself. An order is an order. However, he would see right through why you would not put it down. Either he would read with you and maybe find new spots to open you up while reading or he would drop you off in the middle of nowhere and give you a map for yourselves to find a way back.

◇ Soap would have a chat with you. About how he was a little worried. He would then keep going out of his way to make plans with you and others to get you to socializing more.

♧ Gaz would hide your book, your phone, your wallet and keys, and force an activity. If you needed to talk, you can. But the presence was fine to if it was better that way.

[donovankinard]

what's up guys!!! monthly recs - some holiday-related fics and then just general fics. i've not had as much opportunity to read fic as i normally do, and i'm pretty disappointed by that, but the hecticness of the holiday season has restrained me, unfortunately. for december we've got a lot of buddie and tevan, tarlos, bathena, mateo/nancy, polyfire, saltommy and a dash of henren! happy new years<3

🎁 cheap décor and flavoured cheer || @theclaravoyant evan buckley/eddie diaz/tommy kinard || 4k When Eddie flies back to El Paso, something goes terribly wrong. A fic about hurt/comfort, nostalgia, Christmas and coming home.

🔥 thursdays child has far to go|| @kinnsporsche evan buckley/tommy kinard || 17k Tommy laughs, as much as it can be called a laugh when he can barely get the air to do it, but his breath still grazes against Buck’s lips, the ghost of what he really wants. It’s warm, and Tommy’s still looking at him, and it’s been eighteen days, and he’s baked on nearly every one of them. They’re in a crashed helicopter and Tommy’s pinned down and it’s a terrible idea and it’s been eighteen days, he’s counted every one, and- Buck kisses him.

🔥 snowflakes falling like winter butterflies || 2pretty_2die evan buckley/tommy kinard || 1.6k “Oh man, I don’t think I’ve seen snow in nearly a decade.” “I don’t think I’ve ever seen snow outside of TV and movies.”An off-handed comment made while they cuddled on the couch watching Tommy’s favorite (Christmas) movie on Netflix ended with Buck scouring the internet for a surprise for his boyfriend.

🔥 Misperception || @emphasisonthehomo evan buckley/tommy kinard || 7.2k There’s a new kid at Harbor. He’s the youngest rookie they’ve ever gotten, one of those guys that went for the academy right out of high school. He’s also gay. Flamboyantly gay. Tommy’s jealous. OR: It doesn’t occur to Tommy that he should come out.

🔥 Bulletproof || ScarsLikeVelvet evan buckley/david 'deacon' kay || 1.1k (S.W.A.T. crossover). A rain of bullets is the beginning of the end for Evan's and Eddie's time at the 118. Their professional paths divide, but they remain close all the same while making new friends.

🔥 take my hand, heal my wound || 2pretty_2die evan buckley/donovan rocker || 1.2k (S.W.A.T. crossover). Buck expected a lot when it came to a day of hanging out with Christopher. He knew they’d play some games, maybe watch a movie, go indulge in some good food—because he has definitely turned the kid into a fellow foodie—and likely spend some time out in the sun. What he did not expect to happen was to end the day cleaning gravel from his boyfriend's hands.

🔥 A quiet place || @calinaannehart athena grant/bobby nash || 2.7k Athena had given up trying to sleep somewhere around three and had settled on the couch to wait for the sunrise. It used to be her favorite time of day, the array of reds, oranges, and yellows that painted the sky over the backyard as the sun inched its way over the horizon offering a prelude to a beautiful day. Now, however, it served as nothing more than a countdown.

🔥 Sprinkles of Joy|| BatThatBites mateo chavez/nancy gillian || 2k Mateo and Nancy are tasked with making the cookies for the 126 winter party. It can’t be that hard, right? ….Right?

🔥 A Crack In The Facade || immortalje carlos reyes/tk strand || 634w Working on last bits of release paperwork, Carlos tried to process the conversation he just had with TK and the glimpse it had given him behind the facade he wore for everyone else.

🔥 my lover's body is a map || @kinnsporsche evan buckley/tommy kinard || 15.5k They're all scarred. All of them. There isn't a single person in the firehouse that's unscarred, it's just the nature of the job. But that doesn't make the process of getting them any easier to deal with. Or: the one where Buck's drawn to Tommy's scars.

🔥 voyage || miss_tessa carlos reyes/tk strand || 1.4k The night before Carlos goes to see his father, and the moments after.

🔥 love from the other side || @fallout-mars carlos reyes/tk strand || 2.4k “Baby, oh my god,” TK replies, the words rushing out. Barely realizing what he’s doing, he manages to abandon the cups on the table over the hospital bed, moving to his husband. He’s glad he has enough hindsight—or paramedic instincts—to go to his uninjured side, because his first response is to help steady Carlos. He’s fine on his feet, but TK does it anyway, just to feel helpful. “What are you doing up?” he asks as he leads Carlos back to his bed. “You really shouldn’t be up, baby. I thought I could leave you alone for five minutes without you walking around.” Carlos says nothing until he’s back in bed, groaning softly as he lies down. TK follows, hovering over him so he can fluff up the pillow Carlos puts his head on, and that’s when Carlos sighs.

🔥 Campbell’s Soup for the Soon-to-Be Ranger Daddy’s Soul || cyrusbreeze carlos reyes/tk strand || 3.7k Carlos reflects on the possibility of raising Jonah with TK. Ranger Campbell and his family offer a surprising amount of clarity.

🔥 We can make it out (right?) || BatThatBites mateo chavez/nancy gillian || 2.7k Nancy didn’t expect to have her hands sticky with her boyfriend’s blood. Mateo didn’t expect to be bleeding out in a warehouse fire. They both didn’t expect an asteroid to be hurtling towards Austin

🔥 looking forward to the future || @fallout-mars carlos reyes/tk strand || 1.5k Glancing over his shoulder, he looks into the empty backseat of their truck. He stretches a little, careful not to strain himself or his stitches, then gestures behind him with one hand. “You think we’ll be able to get a car seat in here?” Meeting TK’s eye, he gets a blank stare in return. “What?” “A car seat,” Carlos repeats. “It’s good we ended up with this. There’s no way we’d fit one in the Camaro. In fact, we’d be violating multiple traffic offences if we did.”

🔥 you can breathe now || @decafdino carlos reyes/tk strand || 1.7k He gets the call while he's at work, because of course he does. Of course the universe decides that something terrible is going to happen in the middle of a shift. Well, fuck the universe. That's TK's philosophy.

🔥 I can't explain what's up with me today || @neversleepuntilfive carlos reyes/tk strand || 1.3k "Hey baby, are you okay?” TK quietly asks his boyfriend, who is sitting on their couch with his head slumped against the armrest. He just came home from his long shift. Carlos doesn’t answer him immediately, contemplating if he can gather his strength and push through it so TK isn’t worried. The truth is the day was horrible. He doesn’t even know why. Carlos usually gets up with the sun. But today, he doesn't. He's feeling terrible and can't think of a reason why. There is no reason as far as he is concerned.

🔥 Not your fault but mine || Liv_lily carlos reyes/tk strand || 13k TK stood just outside the recovery room they’d wheeled Carlos into, leaning heavily against the wall. There’d been a never-ending stream of medical professionals going in and out since the surgeon had let them know that everything went well, that a full recovery could be expected with time. He squeezes shaking hands into fists and tries to control his breathing, tries to stop the weight on his chest from collapsing in. He feels shaky and nauseous, panic crawling up his spine. Deep breaths, four count in through your nose. Hold four counts. Four count out your through your mouth. He tries to match his breathing to the slow beeping of the vital signs monitor, tries to take comfort in the steady rhythm. He should go into the room.

🔥 in our reflections of one another (we will start something new) || cyrusbreeze carlos reyes/tk strand || 212k (SERIES). Four years before the events of the pilot, Carlos and TK met in a bar in New York City. Their intense one night stand resulted in more than just a lasting impression. When TK arrives in Austin, both Carlos’ and TK’s worlds are rocked to their core and the impact of their night together has ripples that will last for the rest of their lives.

🔥 I am sorry for your loss || carlando_addict carlos reyes/tk strand || 2.3k TK dies and Carlos tries to process what his future will look like without the love of his life.

🔥 Faithless Plea || lonechronicles evan buckley/eddie diaz || 8.2k “I have done everything I was supposed to and still my life has fallen apart, and been ripped to shreds. I, I don’t know how much more I have left in me. You have taken everything from me. You can not have him too. You can’t take him away from me too. Please, please, don’t take him away too. Give Buck back to me because I cannot survive this, I cannot survive anything without him.” His voice was loud, not yelling, but loud enough that if someone had come outside they’d hear a voice. “I don’t even know if I believe in you but here I am, asking, begging, praying, a faithless plea if you will, just, please. Please, for the love of everything that you stand for, bring him back to me. I don’t survive this if he doesn’t make it.”

🔥 Him || lonechronicles evan buckley/eddie diaz || 5k He’s trapped in his head. The lyrics eating at him from every corner of his being. Religion and God and the sins of loving another man, the story vivid in his mind. A man raised on faith, feeling lost and disconnected. Trying to find himself, to understand himself, while feeling like that removes him from everything he's been taught to believe in. Feeling like connecting to himself will rip him away from everything that he knows, alienates him from his family, leaves him heartbroken and alone. So he hides. Hides himself, shelves his feelings and pushes through with what he’s meant to do. There’s a path perfectly laid out for him and it’s safer to follow it. It’s easier. He loses himself but everything else in his life stays intact, and that might just be enough. At least it is for a while.

🔥 you will get a sentimental feeling when you hear voices singing || @smilingbuckley evan buckley/eddie diaz || 2k Buck mopes, has a conversation with Bobby, and goes to a charity event.

🔥 a wolf without a foot || @screamlet evan buckley/tommy kinard || 34k Tommy wants to find his way back to Buck, but he has to find a way through himself first.

🔥 They Can't Take That Away From Me || @rdng1230 evan buckley/tommy kinard || 3.5k Tommy dabs the corners of his mouth with a napkin and gets up from the table, going over to the record player. “Is it wrong that I kinda like that there’s these gaps in your musical knowledge?” Tommy sighs, slipping a record out of the sleeve and placing it on the turn table. “You teach me so much, it’s nice to be able to show you things too. Makes me feel like I’m listening to things for the first time.” Buck feels his heart swell three sizes. He still feels like Tommy’s the one instructing him most of the time. And here comes his boyfriend calling him the teacher. He has a sneaking suspicion his love for this man will never stop growing.

🔥 Shafted || @sunnywithachanceofbi sal deluca/tommy kinard || 6.1k When the 118 are called to rescue a group of employees trapped in an elevator shaft, the power goes out again mid-rescue, leading one of the crew to get hurt.

🔥 100 Days of Henren || @theclaravoyant hen wilson/karen wilson || 4k (ongoing drabble collection). A series of 118-word drabbles centred on Hen, Karen and/or both. Written for 118dailydrabbles hiatus challenge.

🔥 Frost & Found || @sunnywithachanceofbi evan buckley/tommy kinard || 13k Two years after losing his husband (Sal), Tommy magically brings a handsome snowman (Buck) to life! Through his naïveté, the snowman helps Tommy to laugh, feel and love again, as the two fall for each other just in time for the holidays...and before he melts. ☃️

🔥 proof of god in your soup || cardiacsweetheart evan buckley/eddie diaz || 13.5k “God, we’re too old for this.” “What, love confessions?” Buck asks, just to be annoying. Eddie glares at him. “Not what I meant, but sure.” Or: Buck thinks he was born to be left behind. Eddie proves him wrong.

🔥 sell your fear and leave me standing here || @redgoldblue evan buckley/tommy kinard || 12.8k Buck bakes, has sex, and goes to gay bingo. Tommy wallows, gets told off, and wallows some more. Eventually, they kiss again.

🔥 The "Tommy Writes Hotshots Fanfic" Series || @herrmannhalsteadproduction evan buckley/tommy kinard || 7.7k Tommy gets sucked into the Hotshots fandom. (It's Karen and Maddie's fault.)

🔥 Chasing Fires || @thatmexisaurusrex evan buckley/tommy kinard || 150k 24-year-old Tommy Kinard meets 19-year-old Evan Buckley as Evan tries to steal food at a grocery store. Tommy decides to let Evan crash at his place until Evan figures out what his next steps are, giving Evan the same help someone had given Tommy when he had been kicked out of his house years ago.

🔥 our secret moments in a crowded room (they've got no idea about me and you) || @speaknowbuckley evan buckley/eddie diaz || 13.3k Professional Baseball Player Eddie Diaz and Professional Football Player Evan "Buck" Buckley have been married for the past six years, not that anyone outside of their close circle of friends and family knows that. But after they're photographed together and the internet starts going wild with sleuthing and conspiracy theories about their relationship, they're forced to consider whether or not the time may be right to come out publicly.

🔥 comeback of the year || @ambernotember evan buckley/tommy kinard || 5.1k Casey distracted him with stories of baby eagles and a dispensary hostage situation while Tommy drank his whiskey and worked his way towards telling Casey what had happened with Evan.

🔥 with a little help from your (best) friend || @exhaustedpirate evan buckley/tommy kinard || 1.9k “Why aren’t you wearing pants?” (or, what happened after buck and eddie sat down the couch)

STATS: # of fics: 35 # of authors: 30 # of words read: 575k

[divine-misfortune]

Let the reason come on the common tongue

Kinktober day 2: Face fucking

Rating: Explicit

Relationship(s): Mist/Ifrit

Words: 1,184

Tags: Intersex Mist, cunt and dick used for her anatomy, Ifrit has an oral fixation, hair pulling, face fucking

Read on ao3 or below the cut

Mist let out a little shriek that turned into a breathless fit of laughter as she’s unceremoniously tossed into the overgrown pile of pillows at the head of Ifrit’s bed.

She wriggled around in the mass of blankets, unsure as to why a fire ghoul of all elements needed so much to keep warm with but not complaining about them in the slightest. They were all soft and smelled a little like the incense Alpha had always been so fond of, sandalwood and a bit like strawberry shortcake, sweet and a little floral. Far from what anyone would expect from Alpha. Mist didn’t mind how plush Ifrit’s bed was, and on any other day she might’ve just rolled over and buried her face into the sheets and refused to budge for a few hours but Ifrit had other plans. 

She’s yanked by the ankles further down the bed towards him, warm calloused hands pushed under the hem of her tank top and bunched the fabric just over the small swell of her tits. Thumbs working in tandem, he circled both rosy buds in time with each other, fixated on just how pebbled they were before he’d even touched them. 

Ifrit bit his lip and slowly drew his neatly filed claws down her sides, purposefully ghosting over the gills fluttering expectantly. Simply grinned like the devil when she made a face, she didn’t know why she continued to let fire ghouls bed her. Bastards, all of them. But despite that, she still arched off the mattress in order to follow the bite of his nails. At least Ifrit made an effort to declaw himself, she wouldn’t be wearing violently red welts for a week. 

He flicked his orange eyes up to hold her gaze and began mapping out a path of wet, open mouthed kisses down the line of her body. Over her sternum, down her stomach, forked tongue going so far as to trace the soft line of her belly before flicking at her navel. Mist hissed halfheartedly, giving his broad shoulder a weak smack.

“Get on with it before I change my mind,” she warned but her tone remained amused. 

“And to think I took you for the patient one.” 

“Sorely mistaken, cherry bomb. Now,” the spade of her tail batted him on the nose “I don’t want another word from you unless you’re choking on my dick while you say ‘em.”

Ifrit rolled his eyes and gave her belly a playful nip that had her glaring. He decided to put his teeth to better use at least, taking the tie of her sweatpants in his teeth to pull the bow loose. He hummed and Mist lifted her hips off the bed, making the awkward dance of shimmying her pants off before discarding them to some far off corner the slightest bit easier. Helpful, but Ifrit had seen enough pretty faced water ghouls to hold a slight suspicion of her actions, those fish had plenty of self serving tricks up their sleeves.

Her legs fell apart for him as he skimmed his touch up the inside of her calves, and she reached down to frame her half chubbed cock and her cunt between her fingers. Ifrit licked his lips like a hungry dog, eyes drawn like a magnet to the sight. He laid on his belly and rubbed a stubbled cheek against her thigh, very obviously drinking in her scent before diving in. 

That devilish tongue licked deep into her core for a mouthful of slick, always one to savor the taste before the meal. She tried not to gasp but he managed to draw it right out of her. Ifrit gave the tip of her cock an experimental kitten lick to watch it jump against her mound then proceeded to swallow her down in one go - not that she was terribly hard to accommodate to begin with. 

“Shh…it.” Mist dragged her hand through her hair. Dizzied from the feeling of her cock properly filling out in the impossible heat of his mouth. “That’s good, dragonfly…Just hold it for a second. Get it fully hard, I want to enjoy that mouth.”

Ifrit hummed and the vibration of it made her dick throb against the flat of his tongue, hissing out a curse. His tail waved lazily as his eyes closed, dark lashes fluttering lightly against his cheeks. She could watch the way his lips wrapped around it for hours but gave up, head falling back into the pillows to stare up at the ceiling. Such a pretty shade of pink bordering on red like he’d spent the better part of their afternoon sucking at a cherry lollipop instead of driving her up the walls by simply existing with that charming smile and those strong arms. 

Mist sighed and reached out to drag her fingers through his already mussed up hair, soft strands she could thread through like silk. Ifrit looked to her, propping himself up on his elbows, he exhaled heavily through his nose, hot breath tickling over her skin. Exhaling out that last little bit of tension and easing fully down the last few centimeters of her dick. 

“Ready?” Another hum that had her breath hitching. Devil knew what he was doing. 

Mist brought her other hand to his hair, wiggling knobby fingers to twist up at the roots till she found a good solid grip. Maybe a bit tighter than necessary but it was the way she knew Ifrit liked to be handled. His jaw relaxed as she tugged his head back. Fingers flexed in the sheets on either side of her hips, clearly getting restless. She’d have rolled her eyes or called him an overeager whore for the impatience but with him in such prime positioning she really was no better.

Like sliding home, she bucked off the bed. Tip of her cock grazing the back of his throat, just enough to trigger that urge to gag but not quite. His tongue was heavenly, the stud piercing it was an albeit strange sensation but added something maddening to the experience. Fire ghouls were her favorite, and she’d take that fact to her grave.

The first few thrusts up into his mouth were slow. Experimental. Trying to find just the right way to bury her cock in his throat. A cautious up and down, feet planted on the mattress to leverage herself. The muscles in her thighs flexed with effort when she finally decided on a satisfying pace. Short twitches upwards paired with her yanking his face down to meet her movements. 

Mist found herself panting rather quickly. Sweat beaded at her brow, clumsily working her way closer to the burn of promised bliss. Ifrit however already seemed there, drool slicking his chin, the glow of his eyes burning no brighter than embers. Always happy to find himself in a position like this, being taken. It was almost relaxing for the fire ghoul, responsibility plucked from his hands, brain forced to slow, and she was more than happy to provide. 

She just hoped she could last long enough for it to do the job. 

[fennnii]

So, my novel is available for pre-order in a few days.

What's next for me??

It's been a while since I shared an update. Life has been so crazy. My novel comes out, in like, just under a week. Wow. It still sounds so crazy to say. I can't believe this is actually happening to me. It's so insane.

So, I'ma share some other stuff I plan to work on in future after my book comes out (and hopefully sells more than like, four copies lmao)

Thank you all for coming on this journey with me, now, without further ado, some of my future projects!

The Unnatural History

THE UNNATURAL HISTORY is a weird horror-adventure series about a small crew navigating a cursed river system where the laws of nature are breaking down—and time might be folding in on itself.

Think: ghost birds, mirror versions of yourself, half-sunken towns that shouldn't exist, and cryptic journals that seem to know what’s coming. Each stop on the river brings the group closer to something ancient and watching, and maybe even inside them already. Also, there are dogs. So many dogs. None of them normal.

It’s Heart of Darkness meets Gravity Falls, Annihilation, and overheard campfire stories no one ever admits are true.

If you’ve ever wanted to read a cursed field guide written by people slowly losing their grip on reality—this is for you.

This Could be Religion

(my second novel in the works ayy)

THIS COULD BE RELIGION is a war story about ghosts, guilt, and the things we drag with us even after death. It follows a soldier who can cross over into the spirit world—but the dead don’t always want to stay dead, and they’re starting to follow him back.

As he treks through a brutal campaign in a fictional country torn apart by violence, he starts seeing the girl no one else will admit was murdered. She’s asking for justice—and she’s not alone. His squadmates are unraveling, the war is getting stranger, and something is very, very wrong with the land itself.

It’s like if The Things They Carried took a detour through Pan’s Labyrinth and got lost somewhere near The Leftovers. Quietly surreal, emotionally raw, and full of dirt, blood, and memory.

For fans of war stories with a pulse in the dark and a prayer in their teeth.

Also, welcome to the Weird Little River Camp (aka My Ko-fi)

This is where I post the strange, the heartfelt, and the stuff that feels like it crawled out of an old diary you weren’t meant to find.

Here’s what you’ll get if you hang around:

Drabbles & Flash Fiction

Tiny stories under 1000 words—ghosts, lost soldiers, weird rivers, cursed animals. Think: if a zine got possessed by memory and grief.

Excerpts from Works-in-Progress

Get sneak peeks of upcoming works like The Unnatural History and This Could Be Religion (and more wink wink) It’s like catching a whisper in the trees before the storm hits.

Secret Journals & Redacted Notes

Bonus lore, fake documents, creepy maps, and cursed ephemera from my stories. Sometimes they’re illustrated. Sometimes they’re scribbled in crayon. You’ll see.

Behind-the-Scenes Rambles

How I come up with stuff, what I’m reading/watching/listening to, and thoughts from the margins. Casual, cozy, and sometimes unsettling.

Treats for Supporters

Downloads, zines, PDFs of short stories, and maybe even a frog that knows too much.

Basically, if you like storytelling with teeth, soft horror, broken beauty, and characters who carry too much—this is the campfire where it lives.

🖤 Come sit by the river. It remembers you.

[raaorqtpbpdy]

Love the Fur, Hate the Fuzz (1)

Tucker takes his boyfriend Wulf on a date to the one place where a ghostly wolf-man won't raise any eyebrows: A furry convention. At first, it goes better than perfect, but on day two, it's just one problem after another.

For the prompts: Write a Tucker POV/Center another prompt around Tucker {from Akela}, Tucker goes to a furry convention and finds Kwan there. {from @sailor-toni}, Use the color "Green" in your story. {from Warvik}, and "Question one: why did you think punching it would work? Question two: why did punching it work?" {from Mel}

Read also on AO3 | Chapter 2 on Tumblr

Chapter 1: Day One of the Con

Truth be told, Tucker had always hated Chicago. It wasn't called "The Windy City" for nothing—it was always terrible hat weather, which was a serious mark against it for Tucker, who always sported his signature red beret. The buildings in the metropolitan area of the city were so tall you could barely see the sky they were scraping, the El train was loud as all get-out, and the people tended to be on the ruder side of what Tucker considered acceptable.

The city did have one thing going for it, though: Great Lakes Furry Con, the biggest annual gathering of furries in the Midwest. Tucker had only had the opportunity to go once before, last year, and even though his mom had insisted on going with him, he still managed to enjoy himself immensely and was excited to go again. Especially since his mom agreed she didn't have to be there this year (she had not enjoyed it as much as Tucker had), so instead, he was bringing his boyfriend along.

When the idea had come to him, Tucker had been absolutely ecstatic. As much as he liked the Ghost Zone and obscure locations with no cell service, the idea of taking Wulf on a date somewhere in the human realm where the wolf-man wouldn't seem the slightest bit out of place had made him so excited he couldn't even sleep until he'd pitched it to Wulf directly. Even though Wulf had no idea what a furry convention was, he'd immediately agreed with a fond look on his face, clearly just endeared by Tucker's enthusiasm. Not that Tucker minded.

He'd been looking forward to this ever since, and today was finally the day. Last time he'd gone, he'd had to wake up at 5am to avoid commuter traffic on the drive there with his mom. But this time, the commute was a matter of seconds thanks to Wulf's ghost portal powers, and they got there just after the doors opened at eight. Tucker's boyfriend was both cool and convenient.

They did still have to wait in line to check in at the registration desk, but it went a lot faster than Tucker was expecting. When he and Wulf got to the front, the receptionist's eyes immediately widened upon seeing the wolf-man.

"Holy shit that fursuit is freaking incredible, dude!" She said. "It even looks like it's breathing, it must be engineered to hell. Did you make it yourself? Mad respect man."

Wulf looked to Tucker for translation, and the nerd conveyed in Esperanto that the woman thought he looked cool.

"Dankon," Wulf thanked, nodding a little awkwardly.

"He says thanks," Tucker told her. "We'll both be under Foley, Tucker and Wulf, with a 'U' instead of an 'O'. And yes, that is his actual name. Lucky, huh?"

"No kidding," the receptionist agreed, flipping through the name badges with surprising deftness considering her cat paw gloves. "Here you go, guys. Enjoy the con!" She handed over two attendee badges and two tote bags full of swag and promotional material.

Tucker took them and he and Wulf stepped to a wall inside to put the lanyards on and sift through the bags for the map and schedule. While they did that, Tucker also took a moment to take stock of the other people around them, both in line, and milling about the hotel lobby.

Just as he'd suspected, Wulf fit right in. Neither his size nor form were the slightest bit out of place next to the 6'3" hot pink jaguar in platform club heels, and the ogling looks he was getting were a far cry from the looks of fear and alarm he was accustomed to getting. Tucker might've been jealous if Wulf didn't look so cute when he was embarrassed.

Tucker himself did not have a fursuit because he had neither the money nor the skills to acquire one as of yet, but he was sporting a wolf tail clipped to the back of his belt as well as a t-shirt with a shirtless anthro-wolf on it, pictured with a full moon overhead and the caption "AWOOOO-GA!" 

Once he had the map in front of him, he pulled up the schedule for the weekend on his PDA. They were registered for Friday and Saturday—he would have signed them up for Sunday too, but he was already missing a day of school for this because the session he was most excited for was Friday and his parents insisted that he have all his classwork done by Monday or they wouldn't let him come back next year. Still, two days having fun with his boyfriend was worth it.

"I signed us up for the Fursuit Engineering session when I bought the tickets because I was really interested in that one," Tucker said in Esperanto. "And I signed us up for the Dog Park Hour because it seemed like it would be fun to do together, and the Disney's Robin Hood viewing party tonight because you've never seen it and that's a crime because that movie was formative for me."

"I don't know what any of that is except the movie," Wulf replied. "I don't think half those words were even Esperanto."

"You'll just see when we do them. I think you'll pick it up pretty quick," Tuck assured. "Tomorrow is the fursuit parade which I hope you'll participate in, because I wanna show off how cool my boyfriend is. There's also the dance party, and the Furries in Tech panel which I also signed us up for. We should have plenty of time to socialize and check out the Dealer's Den and stuff like that in-between. I know this is your first time, so I tried not to over-schedule us. We have an hour before our first session if you want to check out some booths now."

"I think I would prefer to get the lay of the land first."

"Sounds good to me!"

At Wulf's suggestion, the pair of them explored all the parts of the hotel where the convention was being held. It was a pretty nice place, and a lot of people stopped them to compliment Wulf's "fursuit" and ask for a picture. Tucker happily translated every compliment, from "Those glowing eyes look fire" to "Would it be too much if I asked you to step on me? Hahaha!" and watched Wulf get increasingly flustered by the positive attention.

When it was about time for their session to start, they had pretty much gotten their bearings and made their way over to the classroom in time for Tucker to get a good seat. The front row was already full, but fourth row wasn't too bad. Wulf opted to sit on the floor so as not to obscure the view of whatever poor sap got stuck behind him, so Tuck took the seat at the end right next to him and pulled out his PDA to take notes. 

This session was, as one may have guessed, all about incorporating engineering into fursuits, techniques and equipment to make the mouth open and close, the eyes blink, or light up, or to make them easily replaceable to allow for quick color changes. Tucker eagerly drank up all the information. He'd been wanting to make his own fursuit for a while, but there was no way he was going to do it halfway—especially not when the materials cost almost as much as commissioning someone else to make one for him.

Not long after the session ended was the dog park hour, which took place in the hotel's beautiful outdoor courtyard. It was aimed primarily at those with dog fursonas but open to all, and was basically a semi-organized outdoor playtime. A bit like recess. There were conference staff leading various ice-breaker games, some people milling about just socializing, and a pretty intense game of Frisbee, which Wulf immediately joined in on, making everyone laugh—both amused and visibly impressed—when he repeatedly caught the Frisbee in his mouth. 

Wulf was the center of attention in the best way, which was well-deserved in Tucker's expert opinion. He was pleased to see other people as enamored by Wulf as he was, and glad that none of them seemed put off by his inability to speak English, or Tucker's translating. He'd never had so many opportunities to say: "Sorry, but this fine specimen is all mine," and he was loving it.

So, yeah. Overall, the first day of the convention went even better than Tucker could have hoped. He did have to make up some quick lies about Wulf "fursuit" but he'd been prepared for that. They spent most of the afternoon wandering Artist Alley and the Dealer's Den, where Tucker found a super-sized, customizable TY tag at a table selling fursuit accessories and insisted on buying it for Wulf, writing his name, a silly little poem about him, and their anniversary as his birthday, since neither of them knew what his actual birthday was.

Wulf didn't really get the joke, but he liked that it made Tucker happy, so he tied it around his neck and wore it the rest of the day.

After the movie (which Wulf enjoyed, though he didn't understand what part of it had been "formative" for Tucker—Tucker was too embarrassed to explain), Wulf opened a portal to take Tucker home. Then he insisted against staying over, much to the boy's dismay.

That night, Tucker slept fitfully, too excited to do it all again the following morning.

[armpirate]

Soundleasure | Choi San || CH. 16

Pairings: Soft!San x fem!reader || Strangers to lovers, fake dating

Genre: smut, angst, fluff, online sex, ghosting

Warnings: inexperienced!San, fem!reader, masturbation, online sex, camboy, first times.

Summary: You can do whatever you please and be whoever you want on the Internet. And San knew that a little bit too well.

After finally following all the signs the universe was throwing at him, he started living a double life that no one was aware of. Everyone in his daily life knew him as Choi San, the reserved and quiet boy who wouldn't raise his voice, and would barely communicate with anyone outside of his comfort group. But only a few knew him as Soundleasure, the man with a sexy voice and a filthy mind that had their toes curling just with his narrations.

He never thought of the possibility of those two lives ever meeting, he had always tried for them to follow a parallel route and had always played safe to keep his friends from ever suspecting that side even existed. But his plans will start to crumble when he gets a little too close with one of his subscribers and she invades his real-self and altergo's universes without being able to stop it.

Y/n will not only help him to keep his secret from his circle, but will also show him there's more of Soundleasure in him than he'd like to admit. 

Previous || Next

MASTERLIST

Aprox. time of reading: 23 minutes

San brushed his hands together, trying to get himself ready as he walked a bit faster when the Maps app warned him that he was closer to his destination through his earphones. Superstar by Jamelia blasted his ears as he slowly pictured Y/n in his head. He listened casually to that song on the radio the other day and he couldn't help but think of her, because the lyrics just fitted her so well. She attracted everyone in a room so effortlessly, it was almost as if she was born with it.

The music seemed to fade-out slowly as he found that route familiar for some reason.

He recognized that old banner of one of the restaurants in the area, that he used to go to whenever he met up with his father close to his workplace. It only took him a few more steps to know why he thought he knew that street so well. Classic Cruise headquarters were at the other side of the street, with that wide three floor building taking most of the space in that block. He knew that restaurant because he usually went there when his father had to double his shift for some reason.

He could only hope Y/n wasn't working there, but the location she sent him marked exactly that place as he took his phone out of the belly pocket in his black sweater.

His steps turned slower as he tried to think of how his life turned a whole different turn after his father was dumped from that company, with no other explanation other than production requiring less people to work on certain projects. That company still stayed the same, while the rest of the people that were kicked out had to completely change their way of living, only because the man in power didn't know how to handle his own business properly. And relating it to one of the things that Y/n mentioned, that man didn't change a single bit.

He was about to turn on his tracks, and change his destination again, but he thought about her. Y/n was completely different from that. Of course she came from a rich family, of course she had enough money to cut up her salary to save someone else's position, but how many people in that same situation would've done the same?

He was there for her, he wanted to see her. She was a mere agent when all that blew out, and she had no fault in the way her father managed his business. She was better than all that, and she had proved it time and time again since they talked for the first time.

As he stepped inside the big building, he met up with a tall man with a nice haircut and a trimmed beard waiting behind the counter, looking up to him over his glasses.

—Hey, I'm here to meet Y/n —he nervously informed.

—Miss Y/s, you mean?

He held back that inner huff when the man felt like correcting him. He understood him, so what was exactly the point of calling her by her username?

—Yeah, miss Y/s —San confirmed.

—May I know who's looking for her?

—Choi San —he slowly introduced himself.

—Hold on a second.

The man left him waiting, with both of his hands hanging nervously over the edge of the white counter, while the suited receptionist grabbed the phone to confirm whether she was waiting for a visit or not.

—Her secretary said there's no one under the name of Choi San on her schedule. Would you like to arrange a meeting for tomorrow, instead?

—No, look...

While raising up his finger, the man interrupted him again, paying attention to the person he was talking to on the phone rather than what he had to say.

—Yes, miss Y/s. I'll give him a badge right now —his tone completely changed as he realized Y/n was the one speaking to him at that moment.

A few minutes went by while the receptionist tried to get the badge machine to start working, until the clacking sound of heels interrupted the silent noise of the machine. He looked up curiously, finding Y/n dressed in a black tight knitted dress. Her presence instantly made the receptionist turn to her and stand straight.

She genuinely didn't care about John not letting San walk through easily, because that was exactly the point of his job. He made the first filter that assured the security of the company and those inside. That was why she didn't think of saying anything to him when she saw San at the other side of the counter.

—You should've told me you were here —she said—. Did you make the badge already? —Y/n turned to John, who shook his head.

—The machine was getting started.

—Jennifer prepared a permanent badge half an hour ago, so it should be fine —she told him—. I think Charlotte saved it somewhere with a note with my name.

—Oh, yeah. Here it is.

His colleague had saved it under the computer monitor, without telling him what it was actually about. He handed it over to San, who hung it around his neck as he started walking towards Y/n.

—Also, a new task: any bucket coming for me, feel free to send them all back. Inform Charlotte as well about it. Let's see if that person takes the hint.

After talking, she turned again to San, moving her head to encourage him to walk with her towards the stairs.

—Do you have a secret fan? —he asked first.

—More like a secret creep —she sighed—. I don't know who it is, but I have enough with worrying about everything going on in my life and the company to worry about a clown trying to tease me.

—To tease you? —San asked, confused.

—If that person was dangerous, they'd have tried something else than sending flowers with weird notes —she tried to play it cool—. If those flowers don't ever get to me, they'll end up giving up. By the way —she stopped before reaching the last step—, were you busy when I texted you?

Other than lamenting his clumsy mouth, there was nothing more interesting going on with him that morning.

—No, no.

—You didn't go to class today? —her eyebrow raised.

Through all those late night conversations they had since they met, Y/n was sure he didn't mention a single time missing a class.

—Huh? —his eyes moved from the metallic railing to his shoes, going back to her— Well...

—Was it because of yesterday? —Y/n asked again.

Was he so easy to read? She only had to dedicate one look at him to be able to tell what was wrong with him?

—I shouldn't have asked you to go for that drink —the click of her tongue interrupted his thoughts—. I didn't remember you had to be in class today.

At least that's better than having her knowing he spent the whole morning in bed, whining because of the big idiot he was.

San was confused at how she acted like that kiss never happened. She was so chill and calm, talking to him like she hadn't left his text unanswered for a whole morning, until she felt forced to speak to him; it was almost as if she was confirming what he suspected. While Y/n was doing her best at keeping her doubts and thoughts to herself. Whether she wanted to discuss it or not, she wasn't going to be the one forcing a justification out of him. She was convinced dealing with all of it was already hard enough for him to be making it even more difficult.

—Let's go to my office.

The second they both entered the common area, most of the eyes instantly turned to them. It was like they had a big spotlight pointing at them, with a neon light announcing they'd be walking through the hallways towards the office she worked in.

From behind, and fighting his inner need to look at the way her hips swayed with grace, he managed to notice how her head was raised up, letting her neck adopt the perfect straight posture. And suddenly she felt so distant and intimidating, that he even wondered if it was right to follow her up -despite her inviting him inside.

In the middle of his own anxiety levels increasing, and the fog of judgment from those around him clouded his mind, San tried to focus on what it first pushed him to text Y/n and meet up with her.

He needed to let go of all those thoughts, he wanted Y/n to know that what he said wasn't exactly what he meant. And, for that, he tried to remember Wooyoung's advice earlier that morning.

—Okay, you don't want to talk about it, but I will —the door closing behind them seemed to hit a button, having him put an end to the silence as he tried to get an explanation out of her—. I know the kiss was awful. I bet you're trying to erase it from your memory, and I can't blame you.

Y/n was surprised by how sudden he sounded out of nowhere, focused on his discourse to the point of completely forgetting about his shy aura that usually kept him from discussing things like that.

—When I said I was sorry for kissing you, I meant that I was sorry for putting you through such an uncomfortable situation for a kiss that wasn't worth it. I didn't mean that I didn't like kissing you, because I did like kissing you. It was my first kiss, and possibly the best kiss I'll ever have. But I know it wasn't your first kiss, and possibly you've had way better kisses...

Y/n pressed her lips together, trying to hold back her smile as she listened to his rant, where he barely paused to breathe. She was worried he'd act like it never happened if she didn't mention it, only for San to blow it all out while deeply looking into her eyes.

The lack of air in his lungs started to show off on the marked veins of his neck, and the way his words sounded drowned and forced as his speech went on. She could only think of one way to keep him from passing out at any moment. Holding his cheeks, she took one step towards him and linked their lips together on a soft peck that kept all the remaining words stuck in his throat.

His eyes instantly closed at the gentle touch of her lips on his, letting himself go by how intimidating and warm it felt. He moved his lips first, sucking on her lower lip to deepen the kiss. Although his muscles didn't take long to tense, making his body stiff again, when he was drowned back to the reality that that wasn't the best place to do things like those.

She looked up at him confused as San moved back, breaking the kiss.

—What...?

As she looked down to one of his hands, she noticed his index finger pointing behind her to the people that were pretending to be back to work as soon as she moved to look over her shoulder.

Those damned glass walls.

When she looked back at San, she could notice a soft blush forming on the upper part of his cheeks.

—Why so red? —she giggled.

—I'm not —he shyly smiled, looking down as he touched his face to feel the warmer spots against the reverse of his digits.

—So you were actually worried about me not liking the kiss?

As she walked past him, she could feel his senses completely neutralized by the sweet scent that radiated from her. Her eyes were comprehensive as he followed her gaze, but her pose was so tempting while supporting the weight of her body on the edge of her desk.

—Yeah.

—Why?

—Why? —he frowned at her question, trying to think of an answer.

—Just be honest. I want to know why you thought like that —she shrugged.

—I was nervous, I let myself go with the impulse although I wasn't ready for it. I mean —he closed his eyes momentarily to settle his thoughts—, I was ready, but I wasn't ready to be at your level.

—My level? —she scoffed.

—You kiss so well, and I just... I just looked like a fish flopping around.

—San, it was your first kiss, what did you think I expected? —although she tried to hold back those giggles, all efforts were in vain— We aren't born and know how to do those things. It's something that needs practice. Like the way you express yourself through texts —she joked—. I thought all morning that you regretted it.

—No. Of course not. I just thought you were disappointed last night.

—Oh, you should also improve those body language readings as well —she mumbled, grimacing at his words—. Wait, is it because I kissed you on the cheek instead of the lips when I dropped you off?

And San finally saw some sense in the way he overreacted. Of course it was that. The first thought that crossed his mind as soon as he laid on the bed was that, if she had liked the kiss, she'd have kissed him back in the car, instead of going for his cheek.

—San —she whined, face palming her forehead—. Okay. Let's be direct with each other from now on, and I'll start by making it clear for you: I liked it, a lot. Because it was you. No disappointments, no regrets. I just kissed you on the cheek because it felt less invasive. I know you're shy, and I thought that maybe a goodbye kiss on the lips would've made you uncomfortable.

If she was already his ideal woman through texts, meeting her in real life made him believe he had won the lottery. She respected his space and rhythm, and she tried to adapt to his pace. She was clear and comprehensive with him, and it actually made him wonder how many others would be so lucky to meet someone like that.

—Is that so? —his lips puckered while the corners lifted slightly.

Y/n scoffed again, shaking her head in disbelief at how easily it was for Sun to get flustered at the same time his cheeks lighted up again.

—Quit that smile —she pointed at him—. Look at how fast we would've solved things out if you just had called me last night with this.

San nodded, but he still smiled through his efforts to keep a straight face.

—Was this why you wanted to meet up?

—Yeah. Also —he scratched his nape—, one of my friends' girlfriends is planning a trip to Cape Cod this weekend, and they wanted you to join. I know we said we wouldn't do it again —he tried to be careful with his words—, but Meghan, she's Yeosang's girlfriend by the way —he added, as if that extra information was needed—, thought it'd be a good idea to have you there, too.

—Yeah, about that... —Y/n started— I need a favor from you.

—Hmm?

—We're planning an event, and I kinda said you'd come with me —she shrugged as she innocently smiled.

—An event?

—I'm sorry, I just got carried on by the asshole of Tim, and said you'd attend with me. It's okay, you don't have to do that. I know last time was too much.

—No, I can do that —he nodded—. I can do that if you want me to be there.

—Are you sure?

Last time it was more lighthearted than what those events tended to be, and she knew the pressure that San already was on during that barbeque.

—I'll just prepare better for my role as an engineer in Vancouver. There will be no flaws this time —he chuckled—. Would you... I mean, just if you want... Do you want us to have dinner together?

Y/n then realized the time it was. It was still early to have dinner, but she didn't want him to go so early. He came all the way from his house to her office just because she told him to meet up.

—Can you hang on for thirty minutes? I need to finish up some documents.

When she first told him to meet up, her schedule was completely clear. But suddenly her email was flooded with requests of reports that needed to be handed before she left.

—Yeah, sure —he nodded, walking around nervously.

As she tapped on her computer, her eyes went up to him, smiling while he wandered around the room with his hands inside the pockets of his jeans. It was impressive how any style suited him, to the point of having her gushing over him. Until his clumsiness kicked in. His face grimaced, momentarily scared, when he almost dropped something from the shelf that was over the couch, making her silently laugh as she focused back on the screen.

San's eyes uncontrollably fell on her every few seconds, moving away quickly before she could notice it, but enough to appreciate how delicate her features seemed whenever she was concentrating on something.

They were playing tag with one another, until their eyes coincidentally moved to each other at the same time, ending with both of them moving their gazes away while smiling.

Two knocks on her door broke all that silly game, having her aiming her eyes at her father stepping inside her office.

—Am I bothering you?

—Hmm no —she shook her head.

—I'll be leaving earlier today, so just send those reports to the head of administration, and put me on cc —he explained—. Your mother prepared me roasted ribs.

And right when he was about to start salivating, he found San looking curiously at them after looking around his daughter's office.

—Oh, San. I didn't know you were here.

Harry walked over to him to greet him, but somehow it felt different to the other two times. Anxiety and nervousness were replaced by some type of distrust and discomfort that Y/n couldn't ignore. It was different from the other times, where he was visibly nervous by the situation itself. Now it clearly seemed like his discomfort was due to her father.

—Do you want to come over for dinner?

—Actually —Y/n interrupted, before San felt forced to reject the offer—, we already had plans.

—Okay, then —he greeted, heading to the door—. Have fun —he winked at his daughter one last time before stepping out of the office.

Y/n saw San sitting again on the couch, slowly going back to his calm and relaxed persona whenever he was around her. Although she wasn't going to ask him about it right in that moment, it was something to leave it better when they were in a more intimate space.

***

He took the bag with food from her hand so she'd be able to reach for her keys, earning a sweet smile from her before she started walking to her door again. He waited for her to step inside first, despite knowing the way inside her house after being there before.

—Do you mind if I get changed? —she turned to him, getting San to slowly shake his head— You can sit wherever you want: the dinner table, the couch... up to you.

And just like she told him, he did. San looked around first, trying to choose the right place, and ended up walking towards the coffee table in front of her long couch. Not shortly after she was back with him, wearing a pair of baggy pants and an oversized t-shirt, whose edge danced on her lap when she happily trotted to where he was.

—Are you hungry? —he chuckled.

—Very —she sat next to him—. I ate earlier today because I had a meeting at my usual lunch time. I could've gone later, but it sits wrong with my body whenever I do. It's weird.

—I've only had a plate of pasta before going to the gym —he commented, taking the food out of the bags.

—Oh, so you went to the gym —she asked, picking one of her french fries—. Did you do it on purpose before coming to see me?

San instantly had that nervous expression again, moving his lips to speak, but without a single word coming out of them.

—What did you do? —Y/n asked, smiling maliciously while ignoring her own teasing.

—It was back and arms day.

—I can't believe you don't get hit on there —Y/n mentioned, biting on her burger.

—I do —he nodded—. I mean, it's not something that happens every day, but it's happened. Let's just say you need a Doctorate in patience with me —he mumbled, unwrapping his burger.

—What are you talking about? It's not that bad —she assured him—. With a Bachelor's degree it's alright —Y/n stopped to change the tone again—. I don't think it's that bad.

—Because you're different —San reached for a napkin when he spotted the bit of mayonnaise in the corner of her lips—. You'd see the weirdest thing, and you'd still find its positive side.

While he was right, he was missing something important, and it was how powerful his aura was despite him not being aware of it. And it was there again, as he leaned over her a bit to clean off her mouth while looking directly at it, her whole body froze for him, and he still believed he didn't have that power.

—Maybe the one who doesn't have good eyesight it's you —he replied back —. I only pay attention to things that are worth it. So if that weird thing got my attention at first, it's good enough already. If I think it's cute, then it's over the top. So do with that information what you want —as she was to look out for ketchup, her tongue clicked when she didn't find any—. They didn't add ketchup.

—Do you have?

—Yeah, in the fridge.

She remembered it's one of the few things she had there specifically because of that.

Y/n was going to stop him, but San was already midway when she realized. She paid for the food, and made extra effort to make him feel comfortable. The least he could do was try hard to make her feel better.

As he opened the fridge, he first looked for the sauce, but his eyes got stuck in the small boxes he only managed to see from afar. It looked like some type of medication, although he couldn't really tell what it was by its name alone. He went back to her quickly though, trying to remember the name as he grabbed the bottle, with the thought of searching it up later.

—Thank you —she smiled widely at him—. I was thinking... Earlier this afternoon, you looked so serious when seeing my dad, did something happen?

Of course he was so obvious that Y/n could tell. He completely forgot she was an ace while reading people's body language.

—I was just nervous.

—Still?

—Because of a man that could end me with a snap of a finger? Yes —he lied.

—And you think I'd allow him to do that to you? —she challenged him, taking one french fry with ketchup on its tip to her lips.

—Are you my guardian? —he laughed.

—Of course I am! You look tough and big, and you're way taller, but I'll protect you.

Being around Y/n was always a good experience for San. Although he didn't know her for long, she always managed to make him feel in a safe place, like he was with anyone else from his group of friends.

It could be that they didn't have a lot of things in common, but they always managed to build a long conversation around those topics. And, even if it wasn't about one of their mutual interests, they both made it seem like it was. It was all so fluid and easy, that both of them felt like they were back to when they started speaking through long phone calls. It was all that again, but better because he was able to see the way her eyes lit up and she was able to appreciate the way his dimples deepened as his smile got wider.

—And I remember my dad told me to just stop taking taekwondo lessons. He was the one who encouraged me to go, until I broke someone's nose.

—I bet that little shit deserved it —she shook her head.

—A little bit, yeah.

Y/n found him attractive already, but nothing beated the way he looked when he was just being himself, completely relaxed and talkative. Not only because he radiated confidence like that, but it was also precious for her. He wasn't the type to be open like that with a lot of people, but he was like that with her. And it made her think how all that patience was completely worth it if she was going to see him like that.

—What? —he smiled shyly, noticing the way her eyes scanned all over his face.

—We said we would be honest and direct with each other, right?

San nodded, unsure of where that comment was coming from.

—I really want to kiss you right now —she admitted.

—I want to be really honest, too. I'm dying to kiss you, too.

Her fingers caressing the pecks on his neck, combined with that happy smile, made some part of his brain tickle, and he was ready to deal with that sensation increasing its feeling.

Her lips felt so addictive the two times she kissed him, but it didn't feel like that night. Something was urging him to hold her closer with his hands on her waist, and never let go until their lips were swollen and they both felt dizzy.

—Just follow me, okay? —she whispered, breaking the kiss just to link their lips together again after he nodded.

She controlled the way he moved by imposing her movements, moving her head to find the right angle, tasting each bit of skin, just getting him used to her. Some of the first times San found himself kissing blindly where he wasn't supposed to, aiming sometimes in the air, until he got used to her slow pace, feeling all of his hairs rising whenever he got a taste of her inner lip.

Y/n broke the kiss again, looking at him under her eyelashes, and noticing how thick and heavy his eyelids seemed as he tried to look at her.

—I'll add a bit of tongue, alright?

San waited for her lips to cover his again, but instead he only felt her slowly rubbing them against his. The tip of her tongue traced the line of his lower lip so gently that he thought his spine would melt at any moment. Instinctively, his lips parted and Y/n took that invitation freely, sliding the tip inside and rubbing it against his. His reaction was hidden behind the need to want more and focus on what she was doing to learn from it, and mirror it.

She took it slow, she was patient, Y/n just wanted him to feel comfortable before going on. She always waited for him to move, and imitate what she did, before she continued.

Their lips popped loudly when they broke apart for the first time, and that sound alone started waking up something in him. Blinded by her, he moved forward, feeling a perfectly marked pain in his frontal teeth as he moved way too fast, ending up hitting against hers.

—Oh my god, I'm sorry —he mumbled, seeing her forcibly moving back due to pain.

—It's okay —her hand covered his wrist, trying to help him take it easy—. Let's go for it again.

He did exactly what Y/n did, he imitated everything he felt, playing with his fingers on the fold on the side of her t-shirt. Her hand, still on his wrist, tried to appease him, while the hand on his neck moved up to his cheek to rub her thumb on his skin.

The kiss was still sloppy, despite being slow, but damn wasn't it making her go crazy every time his tongue rubbed on hers. She wasn't able to control her gasps, just like he gave up a few times by airing out some of his groans whenever her fingers digged on his scalp.

She wanted to kiss him until he got it perfect, and she genuinely didn't mind if they spent hours like that. But he stopped before she could even think of making it real, covering every corner of her mouth with small kisses before he looked at her.

Both of their lips were shiny, coated with each other's saliva, and parted as they tried to recover some of the air that left their lungs.

—Did I pass the test?

—Hmm, I won't mind giving you some extra classes —she joked, licking her lips.

—We should leave those extra classes for another day though. I think I should get home now.

And he was afraid that, if he kept falling into Y/n's trap, he'd fall into something that it'd be difficult for him to escape. And he didn't want to make her uncomfortable with the consequences of those kisses.

—Is everything okay?

—Yeah, just that... You kiss so well, and you're so tempting, that I doubt I'll be able to control my body if we keep on like this. And I don't mean it in the wrong way —he quickly corrected himself—. I'm not going to force you into anything, that's exactly why I'm leaving. Not —he sighed— not because of that.

Y/n snorted as she saw him struggling with his words, trying to explain to her what was going on, but being careful with his words so as not to hurt her.

—Are you laughing? —he tilted his head.

—No —she tried to lie—, just a bit. But not of you, I promise.

—I'm just trying to say that I was getting hard, but I didn't want to make you feel uncomfortable.

—I guessed so —she nodded.

He was just looking at her surprised by the way those words just came out of his mouth.

The fact that he was so honest and straight to the point, with no fake excuses, made her laugh. But it was most definitely excitement over seeing him more comfortable around her than the words themselves. She probably would've just shrugged it off at a man being decent towards her -which wasn't exactly the case in her dating life, but with San she appreciated it a bit more because she knew where she was coming from.

Holding his cheeks, she planted a peck on his lips so he'd just stop overthinking and ranting until running out of air.

It was alright. Those things happened.

—I'll take the keys —she let him know.

—You always drive me home, I'll get there by myself —he assured her.

—You sure?

—Hmm —he nodded—. I'll send you a text when I get home.

It was like an impulse, something that got from his inner self and he wasn't able to control. He didn't kiss her lips or her cheek, his lips fell on her forehead. And Y/n was sure that certainly felt way more intimate and close than any other make out session. Such a small gesture had her cheeks burning up, and her smile drawing across her face.

And that smile was something he kept thinking of after he arrived home, that smile was the only thing in his head as he got changed and laid in his bed. And it only felt right that Y/n was the one taking control of each one of his thoughts after that evening, only clouded by one quick thought that made him frown.

Exiting their chat, he opened the navigator, typing each one of the letters that were written in those boxes.

Copaxone: is thought to modify immune processes believed to be responsible for activating MS.. It's not clear how glatiramer acetate (Copaxone or Brabio) works. It seems to kill the immune cells that attack the coating (myelin) around nerves in your brain and spinal cord. You inject it under your skin once a day or, at a higher dose, three times a week.

Y/n was sick?

[aluria-sevhex]

I BEAT THE GAME

a solid 3rd of my ISAT notes on my phone are just from 'today' (writing this past midnight lol)

my ISAT masterpost

every post in this series is also tagged as #Aluria plays ISAT for the first time (please don't spoil)

please note that there's a bunch of notes in this post because i was still in Act 3 at the beginning of this post lol

-i'm not playing it rn but i have decided to break my 'no looking stuff up' rule so i know where to go to make Sif rember what they say when carving stuff

[WRITING TUMBLR POST ALURIA NOTE: i later looked up maps of the House to help me keep track of stuff lol]

-ok now i know. i like figuring things out myself but i could not fucking remember lol.

-i have a really long car ride so. MORE ISAT

-title theme shout-out

-Sif tripped on a rock. "you're clumsy and not at all threatening and overpowered compared to them!" :(

-they almost forgot to catch Isa :(

-dang, Siffrin didn't say nya this time D:

-hehe they hit it back. one could say it's a... COUNTER-attack B)

-SIFFRIN GHOST ON THE WAY TO THE DORM

-WAIT FUCK DID I FORGET THE SHARPENING STONE

-fuck it i was planning to loop back after finding out what to say anyway

-ah don't i also need to find more i fo on the King somewhere? eh i can do that on the next loop... so much to keep track of...

-LMAO. THE PHRASE SIF SAYS. "please don't look bad please don't look bad please don't look bad" BIG FUCKING MOOD TBH

-Sif on his way to talk to their tools and project while carving or sharpening:

-aight time to die lmao

-Loop my belooped

-hm... it's Loop's job to remember Siffrin's mistakes...

-"you don't have to remember to yell' always gets me :(

-I FOUND THE ARTICLES

-ok so currently i'm thinking that the King and Siffrin are probably from the same place. which may or may not be where Loop is from and/or the disappearing island and/or connected to the color thing.

this game has a lot of weird shit going on.

-Bonnie doesn't know what a star is

-OH FUCK NO. AM I GOING TO HAVE TO GO TO THE OBSERVATORY. I'M LEAVING THAT FOR A LATER LOOP.

-another ghost :0

-ISAT: 📚

ISAT if Siffrin could pick locks: 📕

-WHAT. "you used to find them disgusting, but someone you knew loved them, so you tried them."

"someone you knew?"

"who?"

O_O

-aw, Isa hugged Mira on this bathroom trip

-"you wish for rest" yeah...

-"please be sharp, please be sharp, please be sharp"

-the Keyknife is now the Knifekey. WAIT. THIS MEANS IN THE FUTURE I CAN DO OTHER SHIT ON FLOOR 3. HELL FUCKING YES.

-wait. OH C'MON. boooooooo

-i picked malanga fritters and almost skipped past something that seems important. they remind Siffrin of his parents? :0 their head hurt...

-"BECAUSE YOU FORCED THEM TO!" :(

-"where r u from" "no u"

-JUST FUCKING CONFESS ISA FJHDHEJKSMXMDKSKS

-*sighs* guess i should talk to her. actually... what if i called Loop?

-huh. can't call them here.

-"i just hope that one day you might learn" WAIT THAT'S DIFFERENT- wait nvm i got things mixed up in my head :(

-"in this moment, you were loved"

-"that was a nice rehearsal" OH FUCK.

-i just skipped from loop 37 to 40

-time to kill myself with a banana! oop- *plantain*

-"you broke your head open on a rock" it did not use to describe it like that.

-wait. Sif. if you're annoyed there isn't a more dignified way in the village to loop. just kill yourself. you have a knife. just fucking kill yourself to loop forward.

-...fuck what the hell is this game doing to my thought process

-ok what should i look for in this room...

-"BUT YOU ARE NOT ABLE TO READ IT" in large font... :(

-:( Sif is trying to remember something and it's tied to the stars

-aight new thing to ask the king time to get myself killed via tear yippee

-seems like the King wants Siffrin to remember their home... "something we've all forgotten" this is definitely about the disappearing island and the colors

-i need to go to the library and find the books on it.

-hey isn't Rock also called Protection Craft? kinda interesting that the King has it

-damn i died to the King because of timing bullshit ToT

-"one more time."

-huh... it evades active remembrance

-it had a belief centered on the Universe...

-need to figure out why the King is obsessed with Vaugarde

-freezing something perfect in time... do i need to find one of those Time Craft books again?

-gonna loop forward to the King

-"even the King feels easy to fight, now"

"i still can't say it" the name of their home. he wants to be able to say the name of his and Siffrin's home. ouagh this game is going to leave me emotionally devastated ToT

-fuck i missed the option to ask Odile if she was going to continue her fake research on a loop where i didn't spend time with her

-"can we group hug after i talk to the Head Housemaiden?" oh?

-DAMMIT ODILE INTERRUPTED ISA THIS TIME

-time to talk to her. again. again and again and again and again

-"you can start breaking down now" lol

-"the curtain falls" DAMN

-"HERE AGAIN?" woah Loop why so aggressive?

-"i'm too lazy to open up new dialogue choices" lol

-hm... show Loop the souvenirs...

-wait huh. in another loop this lady in Dormont said she has no siblings but now she has a sister. odd...

-:O THE LONG THINGY-THING

-huh. Loop reacted kinda weirdly to the kid's doodle

-hey what if i gave Isa the flower at the end?

-FUCK I FORGOT THE FUCKING ROCK I GOT TOO COMFY. this is embarrassing

-hey hold up the theme that plays when everybody's discussing the country in the library is the same song that plays when Loop is recapping things

-hold up. the King was in Corbeaux. Corbeaux is where the House doing the color research is.

-took the photo. PERFECTLY FROZEN IN TIME

-oh fuck

-calling Loop

-hm. the star-shaped gate that's locked. is the passcode the name of Siffrin and the King's home?

-we're gonna use a bomb i guess

-i asked the King where he's from and uh... now a slowed-down version of the song is playing...

-what the fuck

-Sif and the King are going to die, aren't they?

-"BUT IT'S ALL GONE!"

-i'm going to loop forward and try to talk to the King. again.

-*sighs* the peel is so dorky

-FUCK I FORGOT TO EQUIP THE MEMORY OF KNIFEKEY

-wait. asking him nicely. FUCKING WORKED???

-"The Universe leads... we can only follow"

-FUCK. ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME. OF COURSE. OF COURSE. OF COURSE. GO FUCK YOURSELF.

-so the King knows about the loops, even though he can't remember them.

-"Wish Craft" :0

-WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO DO.

-BONNIE NO

-NO NO NO NO UNHAND THEM

-BONNIE NO BONBON NO

-okay. i looped back. Bonnie is okay again. i just need to kill the King.

-hold the fuck up. it says i'm in Act 4. bad things mark the end of acts. Act 1 ended with me getting in the loops. Act 2 ended with killing the King failing. Act 3 ended with...?

-please don't let Bonnie be dead somehow

-THEY'RE OKAY THEY'RE OKAY

-...the little moments of time rewinding seem to correlate with Sif wishing to go back

-:O I CAN READ THE BOOKS NOW

-THE GATE. OH FUCK YEAH

-fucking hell when did i get (Just attack) because DAMN. Sif is so fucking done with everything.

-WISH CRAFT

-i just fumkign one-shot the Nostalgie on floor 1. "just attack" indeed

-"you need a break" :(

-Sif is like constantly teetering on the edge of a mental breakdown

-let's see how well they do against a boss

-DAMN

-ok so what the fuck was Euphrasie doing before shit hit the fan? and why does she blame herself for Siffrin's situation?

-i just realized something funny. if Vaugarde is fantasy France. and Siffrin and the King are from an island north of Vaugarde. DOES THAT MAKE SIFFRIN FANTASY BRITI- *gets shot*

-gate time.

-what was the question? what was the answer?

-"couldn't i just create another me? someone who'd understand?" ok so somebody's a clone got it.

-Loop? i should talk to Loop

-ok i guess i'll have to be like "hey Loop are you a clone?" in person (plot twist Sif's a clone :P)

-"i saw a weird shade" WAIT HOLD UP YEAH THAT'S SUS THAT SIFFRIN FUCKING SAW RED. OK THAT WAS DIAGETIC. FIRST COLOR IN THE WHOLE GAME.

-gonna kill the King again, talk to Loop, then loop again forward to Floor 2 to read the color theory book

-WAIT SIFFRIN HASN'T CRIED ONCE THIS WHOLE GAME BITCH REPRESSION IS NOT HEALTHY!

-"especially if she knows" Sif. did you forget Odile's name. OH FUCK

-"HOW BLINDINGLY WONDERFUL, FOR A ROLL OF TOILET PAPER TO BE THE ONLY HOPE YOU HAVE LEFT RIGHT NOW!" this would be so funny if not for the context

-"you wish for eternity" WAIT HOLD UP

-SIFFRIN IS USING WISH CRAFT. AND WHEN THEY PRAY TO THE CHANGE GOD STATUES THEY SEND THEIR WISHES. ARE THE BUFFS AND THE KEYKNIFE THE RESULT OF WISH CRAFT?

-hey Siffrin uses a more shy and sad portrait for the 'thank you' afterwards now :(

-FUCK I FORGOT TO SHARPEN THE KNIFE

-y'know what it's fine i have the bomb

-hey Sif i think what happened last time might've uh. traumatized you? ;-;

-welp. i used the bomb. it was anticlimactic.

-"i wonder how this country looks from the outside" *proceeds to imply that the time loop only affects Vaugarde* hold the fucking phone

-ok tho srsly Siffrin is in what looks like *extreme* duress

-oh damn Sif has different portraits for the 'you should disappear' bit. less smug and determined, more... *haunted*

-dang, can't give Isa the flower at the end

-*sigh* gonna talk to her again

-"the actor has become the director"

-there's a lot more theatre comparisons than there used to :(

-woah Siffrin you are weirdly enthusiastic to see Loop

-time to loop forward to read the books woooo

-Sif i am very concerned about this dialogue portrait. your enthusiasm is *desperate*

-hey something funny: people wish on stars

-this game has a LOT of motifs i love: wishes, stars, time, memories, etc.

-hm... what is Siffrin's 'ritual' when doing the wish-y thing?

-:0 a wish is trapping Siffrin?

-what if they're actually being trapped by their own desires or smth? like some sort of- WAIT. WHAT IF LOOP IS TRAPPING THEM SOMEHOW???

-i am in conspiracy mode i think

-moving forward to get to the library

-Siffrin is now level 85...

-maybe a wish is how the island disappeared?

-FAVOR TREE IS WISH CRAFT WOOOOOOOO

-i think the way Sif wished was from something they learned as a kid

-3, 6, 7, 13, all are numbers with significance

-HEY LOOP LOOK WHAT I LEARNED

-welp time to die ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

-ok what is in that one house in the main part of Dormont

-hm. Euphrasie was apparently asking everybody what they wished for. she probably realized something tied to Wish Craft was wrong...

-maybe the list in Euphrasie's office cataloguing the names was categorizing based on wishes?

-looping forward

-"you're a living comedy sketch"

-my guess is that the wishing to save Vaugarde enabled Siffrin to loop so they could defeat the King, but something went horribly wrong, thus causing the loops to keep going

-ugh i need to talk in person. tear time!

-a sped-up version of the happy song after you beat the King is playing and Siffrin has the desperate enthusiasm portrait...

-Siffrin, you already tried saving Vaugarde.

-"maybe you don't loop because you die... but because you feel like there would be no reason to go on, maybe?" makes sense to me. Siffrin doesn't have anything to look forward to after defeating the King.

-"something that, to you, feels on the same level of hopelessness as death? on the same level as the world ending?" me when the time loop wants me to get therapy:

-hey Sif you just looped. right in front of Loop.

-looping forward to the King.

-Odile's realizing she's missing something. too bad she'll forget it. maybe i should try making the others really suspicious of me on a future loop

-"please don't interrupt" :(

-this game has me constantly on some variety of edge and i love it

-maybe this time Isa will get to confess?

-the static is starting and i haven't even talked to Euphrasie

-damn i did a minor loop back :(

-talking to her won't work. it can't work.

-STOP SAYING THE SAME DAMN THING STOP IT STOP IT STOP IT

-I WAS RIGHT AS TO HOW EXACTLY SIF GOT STUCK

-the wish is broken. MAYBE IF I DO SOMETHING ELSE MAYBE IF HE'S DEFEATED SOME OTHER WAY PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE

-OH FUCK. so Sif's current theory is that somehow he has to deal the final blow

-"You just need to defeat the King on your own" BUT YOU NEED THE OTHERS TO DEFEAT HIM?

-also damn the way Siffrin's thoughts spiral into a mess is a mood.

-i am now in Act 5.

-:( the Dormont music is slow now

-Sif's portrait in the menus has changed again, there is nothing in the body text of his profile, and their title is now "The Lost One" :(

-wait. the Change God statue is glitchy now and i can't get buffs there anymore

-Sif is like perpetually pissed off

-aaaand now Mira's upset

-Sif is going to fuck things up with the others as well, won't they?

-i think Odile's gonna figure out that Sif is in a time loop

-i feel like i'm in a horror game right now. well. i've felt like that for a while. but i am fucking terrified of Siffrin right now. Siffrin you need help please they only want to help you you can't bottle up everything or it only ends up worse

-the battle theme is slowed...

-sometime i should write a crossover fanfic where Rose Lalonde picks apart Siffrin, i think it would go very interestingly

-unrelated but i just realized Isa has a hair banana hehehe... i need to cling to levity while in this hell

-uh. dude. why is your dialogue looping

-SIFFRIN! I. I KNOW YOU'RE STRUGGLING BUT ALL THEY WANT TO DO IS HELP YOU AND YOU KEEP HURTING THEM PLEASE THEY ONLY WANT TO HELP YOU I KNOW VULNERABILITY IS HARD BUT PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE THEY'VE BEEN *TRYING* AND THEY'VE BEEN NOTHING BUT KINDA TO YOU AND IT HURTS TO SEE THIS SIFFRIN BECAUSE YOU KEEP GETTING WORSE AND WORSE AND IT'S TERRIFYING!

-fuck man this game is getting me to care so much about this guy. Mental Illness Simulator 2023

-the irony of Sif calling Isa a coward who projects confidence but not backing it up... Siffrin is projecting.

-and yet despite all that... Isa still ended the conversation rather kindly ToT

-Loop seems really unsure and yeah. past me would not believe this but i am siding with the starheaded bitch.

-...Loop fucking LIED

-Sif is going alone

-oh dear the music

-most of the memories are gone. and the skills...

-level 99

-wait the room layout is fucked

-a Sif ghost but with a black hat instead

-"you're hungry" :(

-so. i think Sif just hallucinated his party members.

-"your stomach hurts. you feel cold." :(

-the world is glitching and breaking haha and i am scared i'm scared i'm scared Siffrin *please*

-how is the photo event occurring if i'm on my own?

-*oh no*

-ok brb i need to take a break

-ok back from my break and refreshed! now i can go back to Siffrin's Descent Into Hell

-entered Mira's room. her hallucination did the "head is covered in darkness creepily" thing...

-Odile...

-i'm in the Keyknife room except now the background is the post-King fight background...

-the feeling of the grim march towards a specific goal reminds me of the Undertale genocide route haha...ha...ha... ...

-stomachache, headache, and the smell of sugar...

-no more running, only a slow, slow, walk to the end

-"you've trapped this country in time even more surely than i have" oh fuck

-not often that a game makes me terrified enough for me to feel my heartbeat...

-red.

-his sprite is on the game over?

-where the FUCK am i?

-spooky shadow Siffrin

-OOO DO I GET TO FIGHT A MANIFESTATION OF SIFFRIN'S MENTAL HEALTH ISSUES?

-hm what does mal du pays mean- oh :( it translated to homesickness :(

-you can't fight your own shadow

-"it's not like you haven't let me die before, right?" *OH FUCK*

-you broke your promise didn't you?

-red

-dude i think the depression is collecting its due. loops and loops of bottling your shit up has been unhealthy and now you are paying for it :(

-"if something has been forgotten by everyone, has that thing ever existed?" FUCK

-red

-more red

-BRIGHT RED

-if i had a nickel for every rpg i liked where a monochrome manifestation of the main character's mental illness taunted him in a scripted fight, i'd have two nickels, which isn't a lot, but it's weird that it happened twice. bonus: the dialogue box calls Mal du Pays 'something'! oh and both games open with a content warning i guess

y'know maybe the fact i found out about this game from a blogger that i followed for Omori stuff should've been some sort of indicator.

-"the sadness within you is right" FUCK

-OH GOOD SIF DIDN'T DIE THE FAMILY CAME TvT

-"a weird shiny person helped us!" LOOP :D

-AND THE MUSIC IS UPBEAT OH THIS FEELS SO GOOD TvT

-IT HAS THE TITLE SCREEN MOTIF TOO

-i'l have to look up the song later and compare to other themes but i think it might be a medley/remix? i've definitely identified the post-King fight theme and the title theme, probably more i can't clearly identify

-everybody's battle portraits are so bright and happy

-"i still cannot remember its name" :(

-damn. he froze. womp womp

-ok but what about Loop? what's going on with them?

-glitchy background...

-i'm on Act 5. aren't there like 6 acts? idk maybe this can end and Sif can move forward. then again... the last few times. that did not work out.

-haha Sif pls don't die on us rlly tho pls don't

-so slow...

-RED...

-Mal du Pays is following us

-FUCK

-*exhales* ok the darkness is gone

-is it weird that i kinda like this moment more than the moments of closeness with the others in Act 3? maybe cuz it feels more real, somehow... or because for once, Siffrin is the one being vulnerable...

-i think the problem was sticking to the script and treating the others like actors or well... NPCs

-FUCK FUCK FUCK NO NO NO DON'T YOU DARE GO INTO GLITCHY MODE.

-FUCK

-now that they're here they know something is wrong.

-please game please grant Siffrin one small mercy and let the others loop back with him this time

-RED

-uhhhhhhhh

-Sif did you just become your weird sadness self

-woah this is a beautiful scene

-WOAH. now THIS is a battle! and it is *beautiful*. the red and the stars...

-oh fuck. my options are hurt them or self-harm.

-wait are they HEALING ME? :(

-the battle menu simply refers to Siffrin as 'user'

-JGJRJENNDNRJE LMAO ODILE JUST PULLED A CLASSIC MOM MOVE LIKE "don't you dare storm up to your room earlier in time, young man!"

-forced group therapy

-oh, Siffrin's portrait

-i HATE that my options are hurt my friends or hurt myself. and i refuse to let Siffrin hurt their friends. it's... heartbreaking...

-chat i don't think the wish the player chooses was Siffrin's *actual* wish

-:0 hatless Siffrin

-AWWWW THEY'RE HUGGING

-aw... smiling Sif... hugging Bonnie :]

-:0 EVERYBODY IS SO HAPPY IN THE MENU!

-"It's you!!!!" also hey Sif's title is "The Traveler" again!

-"you will stay together for a little while longer" :]

-i love how the lack of hat makes the fact that Siffrin is really short apparent lol

-these new conversations are precious :]

-Odile thinks the fact that Sif loved everybody so much they got himself stuck in a time loop to be cute XD

-NO WAY. IS THIS FINALLY HAPPENING. IS HE FINALLY GONNA SAY IT?

-HELL FUCKING YES!!!!!!!!

-ok i just talked to all the housemaidens and Dormont residents. time to talk to Loop

-...

-maybe Loop was just. a manifestation of the wish...

-:0 THE SILVER COIN? ARE WE GONNA FINSLLY USE THE SILVER COIN?

-TvT

-I BEAT THE GAME :D

-:o Siffrin is no longer on the title screen

[qianqiancandyjar]

DP_the Secret Saturdays AU headcanons

Ghost Hunter Family Masterpost

Sorry, another abandoned comic. Like last one, I'm gonna squeeze something out of my brain at least.

However, I have no idea what to draw to explain the storyline at this point. So I made this long post of my headcanons about this AU.

I did try making new chapters yet I couldn't make a full one to even satisfy myself so I deleted all the drafts.

The Fentons–>The Saturdays

This au sets in the same world of The Secret Saturdays. The Fentons are part of the Secret Scientists, too, and good friends with the Saturdays. But they interact with each other only when they're not busy with their own mission.

Jack Fenton is in charge of all the inventions and equipments of the family, while Maddie is more focused on analyzing everything about ghosts.

Jack and Maddie are less obsessed with their works and focus more on the kids than in the canon. Especially Maddie, who educated Danny to use his power properly. Actually, she stressed the importance of human strength. That leads to Danny's less skilled in ghost powers. Is it a bad thing or good thing?

Danny is the reincarnation of the Ghost King, just like Zak and Kur. But he only possessed the crown part at the beginning. The ring part belongs to Vlad.

About Danny's commanding power: When he uses a specific voice to speak, the words can influence ghosts' mind and make them unintentionally obey. Of course such strong power won't come without a price. Every time he uses this ability, his throat will be severely damaged. The degree depends on how powerful the command is. (Resemblance? Jujutsu Kaisen, ahem)

Jazz is the reincarnation of the King Guardian, mirroring Fisk. She's a shapeshifter, and good at being a spy with her study on psychology. Her ghost abilities aren't as powerful as Danny's, but she thinks them enough to protect her younger brother.

Vlad Masters–>Argost

Before his departing, Vlad was a friend of Fentons. He's more professional on ghost language and culture than the Fentons, so he didn't tell them all what he had read on the asteroid, and then he left with all the secrets.

He knows he need to gather all the relics to fully awake the true power of the Ghost King. He's kinda pissed he only got the ring part. The main part is the crown, so Vlad doesn't have the power of commanding ghosts. Though, he'll try get the ghost army he wants some other way. And maybe one day, the crown will be his, too.

Vlad writes novels as a hobby, and his works happen to be Danny/Jazz's favorite, whoops. (They didn't know the author was Vlad. He uses pen-name)

Backgrounds:

The Ghost King was murdered by a human hero (Perhaps the ancestor of the Fentons) with a weapon made of blood blossoms. Both the worlds of life and death are free from his rule. Yet many years from then, the two worlds that had seperated from each other for so long, turn against each other out of fear and ignorance. The Fentons tried to maintain the balance by keeping the existence of ghosts away from most of the people in the world.

Since the fall of the king, the ghosts in the Ghost Zone had divided into many small groups. They often fight with each other for their own belief or desire. Some want to bring back the king, some want to take the throne, some want chaos and the rest just want peace.

Was bringing back the King the only solution for this mess? What if he doesn't even want to?

Other parallels:

The Red Huntress and the Guys In White–>Francis and the People

Sam Manson–>Wadi

Tucker Foley–>Ulraj

Frostbite–>Tsul 'Kalu

Frostbite is the guardian of Infinite Map, and one of the royal members of the Ghost King. He's been waiting for his return.

(Other additional headcanons to be added. You may add some if you're interested, too!)