#wound up being a a lot bigger then I anticipated :)

[lambtotheslaughterr]

Rise : Chapter Eighteen

A Rafe Cameron Series

[THIS STORY WILL CONTAIN THEMES OF NON-CON/DUB-CON, MENTAL-EMOTIONAL-PHYSICAL ABUSE, ETC. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK. 18+. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT]

WC: 4.9k

Dividers provided by @firefly-graphics

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN | MASTERLIST | FINALE

all AI images are created from prompts i wrote. they are not real images.

IMPORTANT NOTE*: final warning to those on my taglist. if you do not interact with this post within 24 hours after not interacting with the hella fuckin' Rafe Cameron oneshots i posted last week, you will be removed. i do not like being strict but i am not asking for a lot. if you've been interacting then this message is not for you. but if you haven't been... i'm sorry. you will be removed.

            You didn’t stop running until it started to get dark. You headed south, like you & Bear planned, but wasn’t stupid enough to think you had pulled one over on Rafe. Micah was a damn good tracker, they would see that you took off in the opposite direction you led them in. You knew you couldn’t outrun them forever, especially with the physical pain you were in, but you would be damned if you didn’t try your hardest. You were convinced that if you could get far enough, that it’d be just out of reach of Rafe’s clutches & then you’d be free.

            More importantly, you hoped to run into Bear. The forest you were running through was never-ending though. For miles in either direction you’d only find more forestry. That worked in your favor though. The furthest away you were from civilization the better. Rafe would anticipate you looking for shelter. But you had a backpack full of survival goods. There was no tent or sleeping bag but you’d make do. You’d learn how to survive on your own in the woods, at least until you found Bear.

            By the time you stopped running, the sky above the trees was turning into a dark blue. The trees were growing denser with darkness. Traveling any further would be a risk but you couldn’t risk being found. However, you had to at least slow down. You swore to yourself that you wouldn’t stop moving until you crossed the border into South Carolina, exhaustion be damned.

            But your body had other plans. Your back was aching, the wounds having opened up in your attack against Adrianna. Your feet were sore as well from running for so long. You could feel yourself growing weaker as you walked, your limbs carrying you slowly. Whether you wanted to or not, you’d have to stop & get some rest.

            You peered into the darkness until you found some thick foliage that would make do for some cover. You fell to your knees & crawled into the brush. You ignored your minor fears of snakes & spiders, as there were bigger, scarier things to fear now. You tucked your feet in so they wouldn’t be exposed & shoved your backpack into a small crevasse where you could lay your head. After you felt you would get as comfortable & as safe as possible, you kept your knife & gun right beside you.

            The sounds of the forest sung around you. Cicadas, a light breeze rustling the treetops, a nearby creek with trickling water. You allowed your eyes to flutter clothes as you laid on your stomach, desperate to fall asleep & perhaps wake to a better world.

            Something kicked your foot & you shot your eyes open. Having forgotten you were sleeping within foliage, your head became covered in leaves, sticks, & who knows what else. Another kick & you gasped. Peering through the leaves of where you hid, you could see someone standing outside your hiding spot, your ankle exposed for all to see.

            It was daytime. You scrambled to grab your gun & knife but they were nowhere near you.

            “Out.” A man’s voice sounded, “Hands first then the rest o’ya.”

            Gulping you strained to see as much as the stranger as you could but your hiding spot had done too good a job of shielding other from your point of view.

            “Out!” The voice yelled, “Or I start shooting.”

            “Okay!” You finally responded, “Okay, don’t shoot, I’m coming out.”

            Getting to your knees, & wincing at the stinging stiffness of your back, you pushed your hands through the foliage so the stranger could see them. You slowly crawled forward until you were completely out of the brush & on your knees before the stranger.

            Your eyes squinted at the change in brightness. You shielded your eyes from the sun so you could glance up at the man before you.

            He was gruff looking, like a nomad. His clothes were layered & blended well with the forest around you. He had a full beard that was thick with many gray hairs & a wool cap on his head. His brows were in a frown as he glared down at you warily. And it was only then that you noticed he was pointing a bow & arrow at you. You gulped, your eyes staring wide-eyed at the nomad’s weapon.

            “Whose blood is that?” He questioned, aiming his bow at your chest.

            You followed his line of sight. Your white top was caked in Adrianna’s blood, along with earthen residue from your sleepover in the foliage.

            You eyes met his again, fearful of what he would do to you.

            “I won’t ask again, young lady.”

            “It’s…” Your voice was hoarse & you frowned, clearing it, “Someone who was trying to kill me.”

            “Did they have good reason to?”

            That made you shake. What kind of question was that?

            “No.” You ultimately responded.

            “Why were they trying to kill you?”

            “Because…” You pressed your lips together in thought, sure that any answer you’d give would only prolong your inevitable death. “Because I was trying to escape.”

            The man eyed you from being his bow & arrow, “Where you escape from?”

            “A hell-hole.” You returned, shaking your head in disbelief.

            Running from Rafe was the best thing you could do for yourself, but you only ran into more trouble. Perhaps, into someone worse, though you didn’t think anyone could be worse than Rafe.

            A branch snapped from behind you & you whipped your head around, panic gripping your heart. But your heart slowed as you took in the appearance of a young woman, maybe high school age, appear from behind a tree.

            “Goddamnit!” The man hissed from behind you, “I told you to stay hidden until I got to the bottom of this.”

            Your eyes flickered between the two & you watched in curiosity as the young girl began signing to the man with her hands. She pointed at you, a frown on her face as she spoke without words.

            The man grunted & sighed, stealing your attention once more.

            “You hurt?” He questioned, gesturing to something behind you. But when you glanced back you were confused at what he was gesturing to you.

            “Your back.”

            “Oh.” You blindly reached towards your back but the man raised his bow higher.

            “Don’t!”

            “I—I don’t have anything on me, I swear. I did—a gun & knife—but I don’t know where they are.”

            “I have them.” He admitted, “Now, are you hurt?”

            “Yes.” You breathed out.

            The man’s eyes flicked to the young girl behind you, nodding.

            “My daughter.” He told you as you heard & felt the young girl approach, “She can take a look for you.”

            You nodded shakily.

            “But don’t think of trying anything. I’ll end your life in a second.”

            “I know.” You breathed out, “I won’t.”

            Glancing over your shoulder, you watched as the young girl approached slowly. Your eyes met & you could see the sadness there as she peered at you before getting close enough to touch. Then she kneeled down behind you & reached for the hem of your crop top.

            A hiss passed between your teeth as the fabric of your top peeled away from your back. The wounds Micah left having split open & caked blood stuck to your shirt.

            The young girl shuddered & covered her mouth, her eyes watering. Then she looked up at her father, signing yet again.

            You watched as the man understood what she told him.

            “Someone do that to you?” His eyes met yours once again.

            You gulped, “Lots of someone’s.”

            “You kill them?”

            “No.” Your voice shook, “Only one…but there’s more.”

            “They after you?”

            If you admitted that they were, the man & young girl would leave you, but if you lied & said they weren’t, you’d risk their lives.

            “Yes.”

            The man inhaled sharply, nodding at his daughter to move away.

            “You dangerous?”

            The question made you falter.

            No.

            But you had killed Adrianna. You were capable of taking another life.

            “I don’t know.” You admitted, “I’m just trying to survive.”

            You felt your eyes fluttering closed. He would either kill you or leave you defenseless. Neither was desirable. But you had no choice in the matter.

            A shuffle forced your eyes open & you watched in mild surprise as the man swung the bow onto his back. He stepped forward, offering his hand, “You can come with us. But only for today & tonight. Then you’re on your own. I got a daughter to protect & you look to be trouble.”

            “I understand.” You breathed out a sigh of relief, giving him your hand, “Thank you.”

            “C’mon then. Get your things. We got a bit of a hike to our campsite.”

            Their campsite was incredible. You had never seen anything like it before. It made you recall all those post-apocalyptic films that are set in the woods & you were truly living in one now.

            The man put his gear away along the cavern wall as his daughter led you to the edge of the small body of water.

            She signed at you & you watched as your hands & fingers attempted to speak to you. But you frowned, shaking your head, “I’m sorry, I don’t understand.”

            “You need to take your shirt off. So she can clean your wounds.”

            You frowned at that. The young girl looked to her father then back to you, nodding.

            “I—” Your eyes fell to the man whose back was to you, “I don’t—”

            “Don’t worry.” The man grumbled, “I’m going back out to check the traps. You two can be alone.”

            With that, the man disappeared the way you all came & you breathed a sigh of relief. The young girl beside you chuckled lightly at that. Your eyes met hers & you smiled weakly.

            “Sorry. I just don’t trust people. Especially men.”

            She nodded at that before reaching for your shirt. You raised your arms so she could remove the bloodied & dirtied shirt from your body.

            The young girl worked on your back for some time. It was almost soothing, despite the pain. You had your toes slid into the water & your knees to your chest as she cleaned & disinfected your wounds before dressing them. Afterwards, you felt far better off than you had when Adrianna’s dressed them.

            When she finally stood up, gesturing for you to do the same, you smiled at her, “Thank you.”

            She signed back.

            But as you approached your backpack near the center of the campsite, it was only then that you realized you didn’t have any other clothes to wear. Rafe hadn’t packed that far ahead. You supposed you could wear your bloodied shirt again, but before you could manage to do that, the young girl appeared from within the tent, a pile of folded clothes in her hands.

            “For me?” You asked. She confirmed by handing them to you.

            “How do you say, ‘thank you’ in sign language?” You asked, accepting the pile of clothes.

            The young girl brought her hand to her chin, touching it, before moving it away & towards you.

            You mimicked the movement. She nodded.

            In the tent, you quickly got dressed, save for the thick jacket. Though it was beginning to become autumn outside, it was still much too warm during the day to wear it. But it would come in handy during the night.

            The man returned & he carried a wire string of fish hanging from his first, “Whose hungry?”

            It was shortly after sun fell when you sat by a dimly lit fire in the cavern. The man purposefully kept it low, informing you that the bigger the fire the stronger the smell. He gave you a few lessons in survival & taught you tips to aid you in outrunning Rafe.

            He was a doomsday prepper, telling you he had known this day would be coming for a long time. You had heard of people like him, but you were surprised to see him out in the world rather than in a bunker.

            “Unfortunately, I didn’t have the funds to build a bunker, but I sure tried.” He told you, his voice deep & rough as he watched the fire burn.

            “But we heard on a radio transmission about a commune up north. Survivors. Apparently, the virus hasn’t affected the area.”

            You recalled having heard something similar back at the military compound. It felt like ages ago that that ever happened. Back when all of your friends were alive & on the same team.

            “It’s probably bullshit.” You commented mindlessly.

            The man chuckled at that but nodded, “Probably. But I gotta think about my daughter. If she has a better chance of survival there then I gotta get her there.”

            His daughter was asleep in the tent at that point. The opening to the tent was zipped halfway, but you could make out her forehead just inside there.

            “Was she born deaf?” You questioned.

            The man grunted & shifted in his seat before nodding towards the tent, “She ain’t deaf.”

            What?

            Before you could ask further, the man continued.

            “But her mama was.” He revealed.

            “Oh.” You frowned at that, “Where’s she?”

            He sighed heavily, peering into the embers, “She dead.”

            “I’m sorry.”

            The man eyed you but nodded.

            “Was it the virus?”

            “No.” He shook his head, “Thank Christ. Cancer. She died a couple years ago.”

            Cancer, just another death sentence.

            “Ever since then…she hasn’t spoken.” He said, referring to his daughter, “Docs said it was a trauma response so I let it go thinking she would outgrow it but…she has yet to.”

            “She’s lucky to have you.” You told him. His eyes met yours.

            “Where are your folks?”

            You shrugged, not having thought about them in a long time, “Dead. Probably.”

            He grunted at that, “Sorry to hear it.”

            “I think what kills me the most about it is that my mom probably died alone. In her bed, in our big empty house. I have no clue where my dad was. He was a pilot, always traveling, always gone.”

            The man nodded along as you spoke.

            “I try not to think about it.” You admitted.

            “I understand that.”

            “Where are you two from?” You asked.

            The man took a swig from his water bottle before answering, “A little farm outside Chesterfield. You?”

            “Tampa.” You replied, “But I was going to school in Gainesville when the virus hit.”

            The man whistled knowingly, “That’s a long ways away. You traveled that far with your group, huh?”

            “Kind of.” You muttered, recalling all the events leading up to that moment, “Before everything fell apart, before sides were taken & trust was broken.”

            “This kid that’s after you… think he’ll give up?’

            You frowned. Rafe was never the kind to give up.

            “No.” Your voice was barely audible.

            The man sighed at that. Then he moved, reaching into a bag near his feet. You watched as he pulled out your gun & knife.

            “I was gonna wait to give these back to you till mornin’.” He admitted but then handed them to you, “But I trust you need them more for protection than to cause harm.”

            “Thank you.” You breathed out, accepting them back.

            “I’m sorry you can’t come with us.” He said but you shook your head in response, “Don’t be. It’s better off this way. I wouldn’t want him hurting either of you.”

            “You gonna keep heading south?”

            “Mmm.” You nodded, tucking your knife & gun away, “A friend of mine was supposed to come this way.”

            It was then that you discussed with him Bear. His appearance, his personality, his protectiveness over you. Unfortunately, the man had never seen him. So, he would be unable to tell you if you were heading in the right direction.

            Afterwards, the man stomped out the fire before cracking his back, “I oughta get some shut-eye now. I laid out a sleeping back in the corner there for ya.”

            “Thank you.”

            “S’no problem.” He grunted before making way towards the tent. He did not go inside but zipped it up before lying on the ground outside of it.

            You followed suit & crawled into the sleeping bag he laid out for you. Much like the night before, you listened to the sounds of your environment. The waterfall was like a lullaby as you eventually succumbed to sleep.

            Morning came & before you knew it you were facing the man & his daughter as you prepared to split off from them.

            “Remember what I taught you.” The man started as he eyed you.

            “I know.” You raised your feet to show the socks of your boots. He said it would help not only cover your tracks but also silence your steps. “Thank you for everything.”

            The young girl mustered a smile as she watched you.

            “If you change your mind, we’ll be heading towards Worcester. I left a map circled with where you can find our campsite near there if you want to follow inside your backpack.”

            You smiled at that, but you would not be able to follow them, not for as long as you knew Rafe was still out there.

            “Please be careful. Rafe, he’s…dangerous. He won’t hesitate to kill you, either of you.”

            It terrified you, imagining Rafe putting a bullet into the man & his young daughter’s skulls.

            The man grunted but nodded.

            “Oh, &, if you do see my friend, Bear, will you tell him I’ll be where he lost his last game of beer pong.”

            “Sorry?” The man asked.

            “He’ll know what you mean.”

            “If I see him, I’ll pass along your message.”

            “Thank you.” You voiced before eyeing the girl. You thanked her in sign language. She signed back.

            “Be safe, now.” The man said once more with finality.

            “You, too.”

153 days since the world ended

            It took nearly two weeks before you reached your destination. Thanks to the man & his daughter, you were well-equipped for the lengthy travel. You only had the one set of clothes that the young girl gave you but you stopped every three days to wash them thoroughly. They had also given you plenty of food & taught you how to trap fish on days when you needed to rest & eat.

            The first couple days you had been reasonably paranoid. Though the man & his daughter were a surreal break from the reality of being hunted down, you were back to being on alert all the time. However, as the days continued & you moved further south, you grew confident that Rafe was far in your rearview mirror. You decided to yourself that you would stay at the house for only a couple days, leaving a hidden note somewhere for Bear to find should he come looking for you, before you would move on. One thing you knew about being hunted was that you couldn’t stop moving.

            It was bittersweet seeing the city limit sign for Gainesville. You had stuck to the woods, wide fields, & abandoned roads in your two week trek back to your college town. You had contemplated moving towards Tampa, but Bear did not know where you lived with you family there. So, you would leave a note in his room telling him where to find you if he didn’t show up after a couple days.

            Gainesville had changed little in the five months you had been gone. It was clear the town was abandoned. Cars were covered in dust & rusting under the previous summer sun. Business establishments & homes were cleared out, doors hanging off their hinges & windows broken to reveal the havoc within. You did well to stay hidden as you walked the streets, pausing often to listen for any potential signs of life. But none ever came.

            It wasn’t long before you turned onto Greek row & approached the abandoned fraternity house. You stood on the sidewalk for some time, staring up at it. The last time you had been there was when you all returned from camping. Now, you were alone. The lawn was overgrown & there was a few broken windows, but otherwise, the house was in good condition. You approached hesitantly.

            Once on the porch, you pushed the door open & it creaked with your arrival. You stood outside for a moment longer & listened intently. It was peacefully quiet. You produced your gun from your waistband & entered the house. You did a thorough walk-through of the whole house, second floor & basement included, before you felt confident that there was no life.

            You returned to the main floor & locked the door, pushing a heavy piece of furniture in front of it. You knew it wasn’t the only entrance to the house but most people would try to come through the front door.

            In the kitchen, you glanced around. It looked as if time had stopped. Evidence of the ‘We Wear Pink on Wednesday’s’ end of school celebration party was still there. Red solo cups littered the floor & counter tops. Pink streamers hung wryly from doorframes. A plethora amount of liquor bottles were piled in the sink. You stood there for some time, remembering how not so long ago, you had been in that very kitchen watching your friends battle against one another in a game of beer pong as you & Rafe took shots on the sidelines.

            Rafe. The memory dulled your senses. Who knew this was the world ending would lead to?

            In the fridge, you were not surprised to find anything. The boys rarely had food anyway & what little you did find was rotten & moldy. You slammed the door shut before heading for the stairs. You walked down the lengthy corridor that houses many of the frat brother’s private rooms. On the wall was pictures of members, past & present. You paused when you spotted the face of your boyfriend smiling proudly in one.

            Your heart shattered as you looked at Sayyed’s friendly face. He was in the middle of Rafe & Bear, the three of them in good spirits at what looked to be a pep rally. You remembered that day well. But then your eyes cast over to the man on Sayyed’s left. Rafe. He was never a friend, no matter how much he looked like one in photos.

            Leaving the picture, you trailed the rest of the hallway until you reached a door near the end. Sayyed’s.

            Inhaling sharply, you steeled yourself & pushed the door open.

            It looked almost like how he left it. His drawers & clothes were scattered on the floor, his bed unmade. His closet doors were open & hangers stuck out from him having gathered clothes in a haste. You felt your muscles relax as you took in his room. You had spent many nights there, cuddling with him in bed as the two of you watched reruns of Spongebob. He was your home away from home.

            Walking around to the other side of his bed, you sat down, glancing at his nightstand. In a picture frame was a photo collage of his friends & family. Nuha was in a lot of them, looking glamourous as always. Behind that picture was another. You fingered it & picked it up.

            “Hey, you.” You whispered as your finger traced over his face.

            It was the two of you. Both smiling as you stood one of the many beaches in Tampa. That was taken the first time you brought him home to meet your parents. He spent half the summer with you. You grinned openly as you remembered him chasing you into the ocean as you two wrestled to throw the other under the small waves. Both of you looked so happy to be alive, to be there together.

            Your vision blurred as tears threatened to fall.

            How did it feel like all the time in the world had passed? How did it feel like he never existed? How had it only been five months yet it felt like five hundred years?

            You sniffled, bringing the picture frame to your chest as you lied down on your back. In the two weeks it took you two arrive there, your back had healed greatly. It was stiff often but the pain had disappeared over time. There were still a few scabs, & you could still feel the ridges of the wounds as they scarred over, but they were mostly gone for the most part. As for your fingers, they too had healed. Adrianna had set them before your escape & since you had little opportunity to really strain them, you were able to use them. Kind of. You didn’t push hard, relying on your left hand as much as you could, but you were relieved that your body was healing. All that was left to mend was your mind.

            It was dark when you opened your eyes. You groaned softly, not having meant to fall asleep in Sayyed’s bed. You pushed yourself up, the picture falling into your lap as you did. You eyed it once more before returning it to the nightstand. Your mouth was dry. You needed to drink water.

            Reprimanding yourself, you remembered then that you left your backpack downstairs in the kitchen. You knew better than to part with your survival goods. Leaving Sayyed’s room, you began walking down the hall when you stopped abruptly. The door to the room next to Sayyed’s was open. Normally that wouldn’t have bothered you, as you didn’t specifically note which doors in that hallway were open or closed, but it bothered you greatly because it was the door that led to Rafe’s old room.

            Staring at it, you felt your heart quicken. Could he be on the other side?

            But you shook your head. It had been over two weeks since you escaped Rafe. If he was still chasing after you, he wouldn’t have beaten you here. And even if he had…did he know you well-enough to think you’d come there? If anything, you’d’ve gone to your apartment with Millie. It’s why you ultimately chose the frat house. It wouldn’t be expected.

            Steeling yourself, you kicked in the door to Rafe’s room. It was dark & the only light came from the moon outside that cast it’s light through the sole window. You kept your hand on your gun, finger over the trigger, as you took a step inside. It was quiet, barren, lifeless.

            You breathed out a sigh of relief.

            Perhaps you’d leave sooner than later. Even if coming to frat house was unexpected, you still couldn’t put it past Rafe to check every single place he knew you knew about. Your plan to stay there for a couple days would be cut short. You’d get some water, go back to sleep, & in the morning you’d take what you could from the house, leave a note for Bear in his room, then leave. You had to keep moving.

            Back downstairs, you entered the kitchen, spotting your backpack on the table that was commonly used for beer pong. You began approaching it when you stopped again, though this time for a more terrifying reason.

            In the darkness, against the backdrop of the window on the other side of the table, was a silhouette.

            Your heart raced.

            No. It was your imagination. A trick of the light. Your paranoia.

            But then the silhouette moved, leaning forward against the table. And as it did, you finally caught the glint of something evil in the eyes that met your own.

            “You should’ve kept running, _____.” Rafe’s voice was like nails on a chalkboard as you reeled backwards. But you didn’t get far when you felt yourself crash against a solid figure.

            Spinning around you were horrified to find Micah standing behind you.

            Immediately, you yanked out your gun, prepared to fire blindly but Micah swung a closed fist towards your face & you fell to the ground, your gun skidding into the darkness.

            A shrill scream erupted from you as you desperately crawled backwards.

            “No!” You cried out—angry, scared.

            Your back met a wall of cabinets & you thrashed away from Micah’s outstretched hand as he attempted to catch your ankle. But your fight was quickly snuffed out as Micah dragged you back to the center of the kitchen. He straddled your hips with one hand on your sternum holding you down, & the other gathering a fistful of your hair at the back of your head.

            Rafe appeared above you then, the darkness only adding to their insidious intentions. He cocked his head, feigning a frown.

            “How?” You winced, glaring up at him.

            Rafe shook his head, “I know you better than you do.”

            Then you watched in horror as he glanced at Micah. Nodding.

            “No!” You screamed once more, but your scream died on your lips as Micah brought another fist to your face. And another. And another. Until you collapsed against the linoleum of the kitchen, blood seeping from your nose & mouth.

            Your vision swayed & blackened as you heard the mean speak above you, but their words were muffled & faded.

            Subconsciousness came for you & this time, you hoped it would swallow you whole.

after a brief break to complete the celebration requests, i am back with the second to last chapter of Rise! the next chapter will be the finale & trust me when i say...it'll be a doozy.

as always, please share your thoughts/feelings w me via commenting, reblogging w reviews, or dropping an ask. i love to hear it, especially with the end so close!

thank you for reading

oona<3

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NSFW ABC - König Edition

I am all for this fucking bandwagon, and I am jumping right up on it with some smut about our favourite Austrian giant, König!

This posts contains heavy smut elements, so minors stay away!

If you like this and want more, I already have nsfw alphabets about Soap, Alejandro, Gaz and Ghost in the works, so don't you worry!

Let me know what you think, and enjoy!

warnings: senseless smut, könig is kinda obsessed, tried to keep it genderneutral but female anatomy might be hinted at, mentions of throatfucking (könig might be bi tbh), longer than it needs to be

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex):

Needs reassurance that he didn't go too far, that he didn't hurt you and that you want him to stay. He's bigger than above average, and while he tries to control himself, he sometimes loses himself in the heat of the moment, and the heat of you.

Has a tendency to overstimulate you without intending to, and can grip you a bit tighter than he means to, so he spends some time kissing any bruises he can find as if to say sorry, and massages any sore muscles that might be making themselves known when the high is wearing off. He'll happily carry you into the shower and help you wash off, careful not to rub any areas that might be sore or sensitive (anymore than he has to, at least). You might need to convince him if you want to massage him too, because lord knows he needs to be taken care of as well, but if you get the chance to, he'll probably fall asleep in minutes.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s):

With his anxiety and experience with getting relentlessly bullied when younger, his perception of his body is a bit skewed. He's trained to be a soldier; his body is meant for fighting and killing. While acutely aware of his own size, he has never really taken the time to actually take a proper look at his body for anything other than to check for wounds and scars, and even though he has received a number of compliments in his adult years and enjoyed them, the concept of being confident solely in his physical appearance is a bit foreign to him.

With you, however, he has indeed found himself some appreciation for his body - you shower him with compliments any chance you get, but he has specifically grown a new fondness of his hands. He loves the way your skin feels under his palms, how you sigh and shiver and moan when he finds all the right spots, loves squeezing at your softer parts and seeing the flesh bulb out between his fingers.

Speaking of softer parts, while there is probably not a single millimeter of your body that he doesn't want to lay all of his love onto, he must admit that he has a specific weakness for your chest and thighs. Even if you don't have big breasts, he still loves to run his hands and mouth over them, making circles over your nipples with his thumbs and tongue. As for your thighs, he will sometimes spend an extended amount of time doing nothing but stroking, kissing, licking, sucking and biting them. He doesn't move to eat you out (although it will more often than not lead to that), he's not doing it to tease you, but there's just something about the softness and the warmth that has him lose track of time. Loves the way they squeeze together around his hand or head or hips when you cum, and will sometimes make you cum for the sole reason of watching them quiver.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically):

This is actually something that used to embarrass him to no end before he got with you, because he cums quite a lot. He makes a mess and he doesn't like it. The first time you had sex without a condom, he had you on your back, holding the back of your knees to keep your legs spread. He intended to pull out to stop himself from coming, because it was happening quicker than he anticipated and he wanted this to last, but to no avail. He came all over your hole, and at the twitch of his cock, a couple of spurts shot up along your torso, leaving trails from your pubic mound all the way up to your neck.

He apologized profusely, on the verge of tears because he thought that he had ruined everything, that you'd be disgusted, but when you ran a finger through it and brought it to your mouth to taste, his brain short circuited and he almost came again from the sight alone. Nowadays he takes it upon himself to lick it off of your body, or from between your legs after he's watched it leak out, only to then crawl back up to your face and kiss you deeply to share the taste.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs):

He had woken up in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom, nothing crazy. But when he came back to bed, you had shifted in your sleep. The cover had slipped off of you, you were naked and your legs were spread. There were hickeys forming along the inside of your thighs, and he could tell that there was still some stickiness left from your prior session.

The more timid side of him told him to just tuck you in and go back to sleep, but he couldn't look away. As if in a trance, he knelt down on the mattress at the foot of the bed and stared, feeling himself get hard. He wanted to dive in, but you were sleeping and he didn't want to disturb your peace, and as if on autopilot, he wrapped his hand around his dick, pumping it to nothing but the sight of you. He got close embarrassingly fast, leaning his weight forward on one hand and gripping the sheets, as if to get closer while also keeping himself at bay, biting his lip to keep quiet, salivating.

He quickly realized the mess he'd make if he came now, so he rushed back out into the bathroom and stepped into the shower where his cum could easily be rinsed down the drain. When he came back, you'd rolled over on your side and snuggled into the sheets. He still hasn't told you and it still pains him, because he hates keeping secrets from you.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?):

Contrary to popular belief, not a virgin. At least not to the full extent. Has had both men and women offer to help him blow off some steam when his adrenaline is still running high, and has taken some of them up on that offer. Never actual sex though; any time that he has actually snuck off with someone, they've usually gotten down on their knees and offered their hands or throats to him.

He may or may not have had a dick or two in his own mouth before - they're oftentimes much smaller than he is, and he's never really had any trouble taking them.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying):

Might not have one single specific favourite, but has learned to enjoy the way he completely covers you when he has you underneath him, because it makes him feel like he's protecting you, regardless of if he's fucking you in missionary or if you're lying face down, ass up. Likes leaning over you as closely as he can, and often pushes your knees up to your chest or angling himself in an attempt to get deeper into you. Sometimes, when he's starting to lose himself, he'll fall over a bit and bury his face in the pillow next to your head and moan almost helplessly into the fabric. It would make you smile if you weren't usually right there on that edge with him.

Also loves it when you get on top to ride him, because he gets to watch you from a whole new angle. He'll happily sit back and let you pick the pace, watching you fuck yourself on him with an awed gleam in his eyes. He'll be happy to have you either way.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.):

Tends to be a bit more serious due to his nerves, but your sex life is not without it's funny moments, like when you knock your heads together or fumble with the belt, or nearly fall over when trying to take your clothes off. He ran his hand over your waist in a way that tickled you once, and when you giggled he couldn't bring himself to stop, a beaming grin on his face as he told you to make that sound again. Every now and again, you'll tickle each other, even when he's balls deep, just because it gives a sort of domestic reprieve in what can sometimes be an overwhelmingly hot and heavy moment.

The two of you have also laughed yourselves into a tummyache a number of times, usually because of something that caught both of you completely off guard, like the time you broke a small cot that belonged to someone else. He was petrified at first, but once you'd started giggling, he couldn't keep it together. Eventually you both had reached full belly laugh, and you both just laughed for a long while before he eventually gathered his senses, buried his face in the skin of your neck, and with another chuckle he pulled you into him and started fucking you again, the sound of your laugh still hanging around the edges of your surprised moans.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.):

Doesn't actually have a whole lot of hair. It's thick, and enough to cover his pubic mound, curly and dark, but it's not like an absolute jungle. Prides himself on his personal hygiene and might go for a trim if he ever feels like he needs to. Has a happy trail that you love running fingers and kisses along, making his legs feel like jelly every time.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect):

Holds you close, like he wants to sinks into your very skin and stay there forever. Strokes your cheek, looks you deep in the eyes and has a deep red shade spread over his cheeks when he tells you he loves you. He will probably be on the verge of tears if you return the sentiment. He often stops moving just so he can lean in and kiss you deeply and hungrily, as if caught off guard by a sudden and intense desire for it.

He's also really big on nonsexual intimacy, loving to stand in the shower with you with no other purpose but for you to mutually care for each other, or just resting his head on your chest to listen to your heartbeat as you stroke his hair.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon):

He wants to save himself as much as he can for you, but when deployed and sent somewhere far away from you, he can't help himself. He always goes out on his mission with a laser-like focus, but every now and then, on the calmer nights, he can't stop the thoughts about you, about how much he misses you and how he wants nothing more but have you in his arms again, and once these thoughts have turned to the more unsavoury side, he needs to find somewhere private to relieve himself, lest someone on his team notices what's on his mind.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks):

While he at times can enjoy the sheer size difference between the two of you and how he can use it in the bedroom, it wouldn't be to the point of a kink. You suspect he might have somewhat of an oral obsession however, considering how keen he is on keeping his mouth and tongue on you.

Surprisingly likes it when you tie him up, even though he acts like could positively die if he doesn't get to touch you. Will praise you endlessly, and you think he's about to ascend to some other realm if you praise him as well.

He also catches you off guard when you're out in public and he leans in to whisper that he wants to find some hidden spot somewhere and eat you out. Likes overstimulation, both for you and for himself. He likes being overstimulated because he wants nothing but to be good for you and because he feels almost like a new man afterwards. When he overstimulates you, however, it's usually because he can't bring himself to stop once you've started cumming.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do):

Somewhat into semi-public stuff, although he still wants to make sure that no one will see you. Other than that, your very own bed is where he likes it the most. Isn't adverse to fucking you on pretty much every other surface in your home, though.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going):

Anything you do with any sort of sexual intention will have him melting into an absolute puddle. If you asked, he'd be on his knees for you before you'd even completed the sentence. If you simply tugged at his clothes, he'd have undressed himself in the blink of an eye. He's incredibly attuned to you whenever you're nearby and he's ready to throw himself at you at any chance he can get. Be kind to him. He can only handle so much before he breaks.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs):

He will never, by any means whatsoever, ever hurt you or degrade you, or do anything that even closely relates to it. Not even to save his own life. The bruises he unintentionally leaves on you from time to time already stress him out enough as is, even if you tell him you don't mind them and that they barely even hurt. If you tell him that you want him to inflict some pain on you or degrade you, he'd flat out refuse. Even as a soldier, it goes against every grain of his very nature to hurt someone he loves. If he ever truly did hurt you, he'd never forgive himself.

Doesn't want to be hurt or degraded either - reminds him too much of his childhood. Any other bodily fluids outside of what usually comes with having sex is also an absolute no-go.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.):

Believe it or not, but König doesn't really like recieving blowjobs. He's big, and quite a bit more than just a mouthful, and usually when anyone tries to suck him off, even if they are capable of swallowing all of him down, they tend to end up scraping their teeth along the length of him and it doesn't feel good. He'd prefer a handjob in that case. That doesn't mean he doesn't like it when you use your mouth on him, though. Kiss and lick up the sides, tease the ridge just under the helmet, suck on the head and tongue the slit while you work your hand up and down and he'll be crying out your name to the heavens like it's the only thing that could ever save him.

Going down on you, though, is as far as he's concerned an absolute want and need.As mentioned before, he loves the feeling of your thighs squeezing around his head, and it's also one of the few times where he actually appreciates his stature, because his hands can still easily reach the rest of your body. It's a bit too easy for him to lose himself in you, however - he tends to get "drunk" off of you and you swear it's like he forgets to breathe. Even with a tight grip of his hair, it takes you a lot to pull him away from you, and when you do, he sucks in a deep lungful of air, only to try and get his mouth back on you. If you by some miracle manage to hold him off, he'll start whining, and between the lust and overstimulation, you rarely have enough strength to actually hang on for long.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.):

Surprisingly soft, even when he's fucking you senselessly. Never slams into you, no. Tends to start off slow, to make sure he's warmed you up enough, but picks up the pace once you start begging him to. Keeps a steady, heavy pace, and even though he doesn't necessarily fuck you hard, you feel like every thrust drives the air out of you.

Once he gets close, however, he picks up speed and strength, almost reminding you of a human jackhammer. When he cums, he pushes himself as deep into you as he can, staying there while you feel his cock pulse, and waits only a moment before he begins to grind his hips into you, relishing in the sensitivity as he pumps you full.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.):

He would prefer to take his time with you; he needs to warm you up and stretch you out properly before he can actually fuck you. If you are going for a quickie, it's usually because you don't have access to the safety of your home at the moment, and if you (or he, for that matter) can't wait, he'll pull you along to find a secluded place somewhere and the two of you will make a mess out of each other with your hands and mouths instead.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.):

As mentioned before, can go for something semi-public, but he doesn't by any means want the two of you to get caught. He's up for anything you want to try, as long as there's no risk of either of you getting hurt or as long as it isn't out of this world.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?):

He has finished quicker than intended at times, but if he does, he simply finds some other way to please you. Can last a good while, and you usually end up losing count of how many times you cum. He'll try to go for as long as you can, and he's kept you up at night a fair number of times.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?):

The idea of toys hadn't really struck him, until he asked you what you did when he was away and you decided to show him. Blushing heavily, he asked you about what they were, how you used them and if they felt good. When your response is "not as good as you," he feels like his heart skips a beat and almost needs to physically restrain himself from throwing himself over you. After much blushing and stammering, he eventually turns to you and asks if you can show him how you use them. He watches closely and learns, and it's like you've given him a whole new world to explore (and new ways to render you completely mindless). He will use the toys on you until you're practically crying for him to give you a break, even if his cock sits painfully hard in his pants.

Once you suggest that you can use them on him as well, you thought he'd throw his neck out with how fast he snapped his head towards you. You showed him things he'd never even considered, and after the first time you'd use a vibrating wand on his cock, he was sure he'd never be the same again.

You tell him about dildos and how you can use them as well, and he finds himself wondering what it would be like if you used one on him. Tends to be the one fucking you, but the idea of you fucking him (with a real dick or no) does more to him than he'd like to admit.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease):

He doesn't mean to tease, honest! He just loses himself in you, loses track of time. If you whine at him and try to scold him for it, he'll apologize breathlessly, but sometimes he can't bring himself to move on. He's just fascinated by you, smitten by you.

If you want some payback, he's not hard to tease. Will whine if you hold back, beg if you stop. If you edge him, he'll do a mix of the both, his words slurring and his languages mixing together into a near unrecognizable mess. But you usually find it in yourself to be merciful. Usually.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.):

Quite loud - the volume of his moans are usually on par with yours. He moans sweet things in your ears, trying to stay coherent, but it usually turns into a mess of English, German and Austrian German. Starts to ramble, and the words you are able to understand are usually somewhere along the lines of "ah, fuck, scheisse, you feel so good, ah, so fffuu-uhuh-ckinggood, I don't want to stop, I can't stop, m-my love, please, liebling, you take me so well, please don't stop now, I beg you, don't stop, I- ah!"

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character):

As far as blowjobs go, there's only ever been one that has been able to take all of him in their mouth - a man almost his own size that offered to go with him to the men's room back at base during some downtime right after a mission. The man had happily gotten down on his knees, opened his mouth wide and stuck his tongue out and let him grab him firmly by the head and throatfuck him against the stall door (König can still remember the sounds - if anyone else heard them, they never made it known). He would enthusiastically offer himself up a few more times, to the point where it almost became routine after missions. But then one day the man was gone and König just didn't see him again.

He's confessed this to you, worried that you might not want to be with him anymore, but you jokingly/not-so-jokingly suggested that maybe you should find another guy who can take him like that again, and his mind has been running wild ever since.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes):

He is most certainly big, definitely, however he is not wielding some sort of horsecock. Sits somewhere around 7-8 inches, thick enough to stretch you out and fill you up, but not so thick that you feel like you're about to split in half.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?):

Wants you nearly constantly, but usually leaves you to initiate. He can only hold off for so long, however, and once he's at his whit's end, he'll start touching you, running his fingers along your arms at first, then your waist, then his hands are gripping at your hips and he's breathing heavily into your ear, whispering to you how badly he wants you, will you please let him have you?

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards):

He will actually fall asleep rather fast if you tell him to lay with you for a bit longer before you clean up, which is why he usually declines. He wants both of you to be clean and fresh so that you don't have to deal with the icky and uncomfortable clean up that happens if you let it dry. Once clean, though, he'll happily crawl back into bed with you and either have you rest on top of him like a little blanket, or lay his head down onto your chest, and he'll be out like a light before you know it.

[sa1nts-and-s1nners]

Remember, I hate you (pt.1)

Rohan x Savannah

content: tension, banter, close proximity etc (tell me if i missed anything)

pt.2

word count: 660

a/n: This is my first fic (that I'm publicly publishing) so if you have any constructive feedback I won't mind. We didn't get Savannah's pov in tgg so I wanted to explore how she would view Rohan.

Savannah took out a pin from her fancy updo when she heard a knock at her door. I thought he wasn't coming today

She walked slowly towards the door, letting the other person on the other side wait in anticipation. It's what he deserves anyway she thought to herself, ridding the image of his body close to hers the last time he'd shown up at her door

Not a lot of things excited Savannah. The occasional challenge with Gigi or mind games with her half brother were interesting and being the queen of the court, commanding the game with the ball was her greatest joy—until the injury took that away from her

but this? this was a hell lot more than exciting

"Hello, love" Rohan greeted her as she opened the door "Almost thought you weren't going to open the door"

"Almost considered it"

"You wound me," he said dramatically, gliding inside with a sly smile. "What made you change your mind?"

"Thought I could use some help with this" she gestured towards her hair that was riddled with bobby pins and god knows what else. A wolfish smile took over his face, his real smile savannah realised with a start, immediately ignoring the effect that it had on her

"Is the unconquerable Savannah Grayson bested by a few pins?" He asked, joining her at vanity as she sat down. God, she could hear the grin in his voice. She distantly wondered if it was a bad idea letting him into her room. Probably, but at the moment she didn't care. She craved a distraction, and he was exactly that—handsome, perilous, and intriguingly unpredictable. They'd made a deal anyway. A few late night meetings wasn't going to change their goals. They were made to betray each other in the end and nothing could be done to change that course. It made this moment all the more sweeter.

He started gently picking out pins one by one, being absolutely careless with the way his hand grazed her neck. He brushed his hand through her hair, separating the bigger knots before picking up the brush. Savannah tried to keep her breathing in control and avoided arching into his touch. She couldn't lose control like she did before ever again. This was a punishment and her damnation in the sweetest form.

He carefully divided her hair into sections, brushing each one with the practiced ease of someone who had done this countless times before. Yet, the focused intensity in his eyes made it feel like he was experiencing it anew. He was gentle, as if he was afraid of her hurting her. Which was ridiculous, he'd never held back before. She met his eyes in the mirror

"Rohan?" She'd learnt to read him just as well he'd learnt to read her and she knew the effect of saying his name would have on him. She loved it

"Hm?"

"Truth or Dare?"

He paused for a second before answering "Truth"

"Why did you come here tonight?" He'd told her that he had to stop visiting her because it was no longer a calculated risk for him. Savannah had no idea what he meant by that. He lived for risks and breaking the rules so his sudden change in behaviour was baffling but she didn’t dare ask him to explain��she couldn’t let him think she cared. But curiosity gnawed at her insides

"Can I switch to Dare?"

"No"

He leaned in, his breath warm against her ear as his voice dropped to a whisper. "Maybe I didn’t want to be alone tonight." The closeness of his lips sent a shiver down her spine, the words hanging in the air, heavy with unspoken intent.

His answer caught her off guard, and just as she was about to press him for more, he shifted the moment with a simple, loaded question: "Truth or Dare?"

She saw the challenge in his eyes and replied "Dare"

[godihatethiswebsite]

Desert Oasis

✽ Johnny "Soap" Mactavish x f!reader (The Mummy AU)

Main Masterlist ✽ Ao3

✽ Part 7 - Gearing up for the road ahead

I intended to get this out to you guys much earlier, but my health stole my brain bunnies and then the chapter grew a lot bigger than I'd originally anticipated. I'm actually forcing myself to break it up from the 10k monstrosity it currently is (and I'm not done with yet ><) into this chunk half the size so that you're not waiting another week or so.

The good news is I've got a bunch of the next part already done because of that so hopefully the wait won't be as long :)

i'm not jinxing myself by saying that. what are you talking about >>;

Kyle hadn't let you walk after everything and you were far too drained from the day's events to argue. He'd gotten to his feet and hoisted you up into his arms, cradling you to his chest as you wrapped your arms around his neck and rested your eyes for a bit. His body warmth wasn't a cure-all, but it certainly helped given the fact that you were dressed in a sopping wet short cotton batiste nightgown with only your knickers on underneath. Letting yourself be carried wasn't just because you were tired and shoeless - it was also helping to preserve your modesty. 

Something like that shouldn't really matter at a time like this considering one of your male companions was family and the other had already seen you in the state when he was saving your life (twice now). However, you weren't the only people out here despite not running into anyone else as you three made the trek southward. You didn’t want to be caught so exposed should your paths cross with any of your companions from the wreckage. 

Unlikely, but better to be safe than sorry.

They'd opted to delay settling down for the night and keep traveling for a little bit longer, arguing that they were too wound up from the ‘festivities’ to find much sleep anyways. While you were certain adrenaline must’ve had them on edge, you suspected they were moreover worried about the men in black robes coming back in the middle of the night to finish what they started. That thought weighed heavy in your gut, sending a shiver down your spine easily mistaken for the slight chill of the desert. 

By the time it was decided you were far enough away from the wreckage for their comfort, you had begun to lull off in Kyle’s hold, fighting the pull of slumber from a mixture of pure stubbornness and the lingering paranoia of being snuck up on once again. It was doubtful sleep would come easy to you tonight if it even did at all.

Being so close to the Nile had lush vegetation scattered throughout the area, your cousin finding a small patch of softer earth to place you down upon while Johnny rested his back against a nearby palm. Neither of them had a go at building a fire for warmth, not wanting to risk being spotted and leaving your only light source to be the heavenly planets above. The nearby crop provided cover from wandering eyes which helped ease your anxieties a little at least.

“Who was it that attacked us?” The question from your lips was one that no one had yet to voice aloud, but was on everyone’s minds in one form or another. 

Your cousin plopped down in the grass next to you, scratching a hand over his scalp in a show of obvious frustration parroted by the expression he wore.

“Wish I had an answer for you, dolly. Been rattlin' my brain over that all night and yet still only comin' up empty handed. Could’ve just been as simple as a rogue band of desert dwellers looking for easy pickings and we were the poor bastards who got unlucky.”

“That's a right load and ye know it, Garrick.” Johnny’s voice had a growl to it that gave away his own internal thoughts, rooting around in his rucksack in what you suspect was an effort to check over his few remaining belongings. “If that were true then they’d ‘ave taken somethin’ with ‘em. Ye dunnae sink a ship yer tryin’ ta make coin off of.”

“They were looking for something.” Even with how soft your voice was interjecting into the conversation, both pairs of eyes swiveled towards you immediately, imploring you to continue with your explanation. 

“One of the men… in my room,” your gaze briefly landed on Johnny as you thought back to how he found you being held captive with a dagger to your throat, eyes burning through you in a way you had to mentally shake yourself out of in remembrance, “h-he asked me something… about a key. He was looking for it and got incensed when I told him I didn’t know what he was talking about.”

The two of them shared a look at the details of your brief encounter, trying to piece together a puzzle that was taking more shape but still lacked too many parts.

“Seems like someone on board was hiding something,” came your cousin’s reply, an ominous implication that had you over analyzing the people you’d come in contact with over the course of the day. “Question is: which one was the thief and which one was the conservator?”

Too much blood had been spilt for you to even consider the notion that the men in black were even remotely the good guys, but you couldn’t help the nagging tug in the deep recesses of your brain that was trying to place why some part of you recognized something about the man who threatened you. You’re certain you’d never seen his face before, but there was an element of his appearance that kept itching something you couldn’t seem to scratch. 

Perhaps clarity would find you in the morning when the events that brought you here weren’t so fresh in your mind.

Turning your attention back to Johnny, you brought up the other thought that had been tumbling around upstairs although it was far less pressing of a matter. “That man across the river. Friend of yours?”

You’d been half expecting the displeased snort you received in response based on the short interaction you’d witnessed, but it was Kyle who answered first. 

“Philip Graves. Bit of a mercenary who took up occasional employment with His Majesty’s forces.” There was a sourness to his tone that spoke volumes towards his opinion of the man. “Ran a few with him back in the day. Thought he was actually a good bloke at first, but turns out he’s just another man out only for his own skin, no honor or loyalty to be found.”

“Had a bit o’ a run in with him on the ferry tonight. Certainly put the eejit back in his place, or so ah thought. Damn dog doesnae ken when tae stay down.” 

Your ears perked up in interest at the reveal, a latch clicking in your head as you put two and two together.

The glance over your shoulder. 

That must’ve been why he ushered you back below decks. Hearing the way they spoke about the man had you grateful you’d avoided that particular encounter… though you were intrigued by the conversation that surely followed.

“Oh yeah?” You could certainly tell that lifted Kyle’s spirits a bit to hear. “Have a proper go at him, did ya?”

“Well he ended up takin’ a bit o’ a premature swim if that’s wha’ yer implying.” The smirk on Johnny's face was positively impish, making even the corners of your own lips quirk up in amusement. “But ah did manage tae find out one useful piece o’ information. Turns out he’s the one leadin’ the Americans to Hamunaptra.”

“Bloody hell. You serious?” That wasn’t a reassuring response coming from your cousin.

“‘Fraid so. Bastard was more than happy ta flap his gob about his recent ventures. Americans paid him half upfront, half when he gets ‘em there. Looks like we’re stuck with our ol’ buddy Graves a bit longer than ah’d like.”

“Should I be concerned?” You glanced warily between them, feeling far too on edge tonight as it was without this added headache stacking up on top of things.

Kyle could practically feel the despair in your bones at the prospect of this journey adding even more to your plate than it already had, placing a firm hand on your knee as a small reminder that you weren’t alone in all this. “More of a nuisance than a threat, dolly. Don’t go worrying your head over something so inconsequential.

“‘Sides, there’s only so much mischief he can get up tae with the likes of us ‘round tae keep him in line.”

Coming from a pair of troublemakers, that wasn’t as much of a comfort as they probably thought it was.

By the time the next morning rolled around, you were convinced the only reason you were able to get any sleep at all was due to the sheer amount of fatigue that forced your body to eventually yield to it, having depleted all energy reserves by the time you finally closed your eyes for a proper rest.

Despite getting a full night’s reprieve, the same could not be said for your body. Muscles that hadn’t been exercised in years were howling at you as you rose to consciousness, body protesting the movement as it was even sorer now than it was only hours ago. Combined with the less than ideal sleeping arrangements (despite the decent makeshift pillow your cousin’s lap had made) you were certainly feeling it come sunrise, joints aching and cracking like kettle corn. 

The prospect of doing even more travel on foot did not appeal to you in the slightest.

You were pleasantly surprised to be offered a banana as a substitute for a hearty breakfast, Johnny pointing a little farther inland to a small cluster of trees where the offending fruit dangled from its clutches. You hadn’t noticed them in the darkness when the group first settled down, grateful to not have to continue onward without at least a little something in your belly. As far as water went, so long as you stayed near the Nile the blue waters would provide you with ample hydration. If it wasn’t for the fact you were on a bit of a timetable, you might have argued for the chance at catching a fish to fill you up even more. But they had neither the tools nor patience to effectively do it, leaving you with the fruit you quickly scarfed down.

It didn’t take long for the clothes on your backs to dry once the sun came out, glad to be rid of the uncomfortable damp that had you smelling like mildew. Were it not for the fact that you did not want to expose yourself again with a semi translucent nightgown you would’ve walked a few meters to your left and taken a much needed dip in the cool river.

Alas, you figured you’d learn to live with the stench as the desert heat would no doubt leave you with far less agreeable odors than a bit of moisture. No doubt your fellow companions were accustomed to such a life where bathing was moreso optional than it was required. 

The group followed alongside the Nile as much as possible, hoping to have a run in with others who would potentially have supplies for you to barter from. Johnny had a bit of coin stuffed in one of the pouches of his bag that could get you a decent bit of what you needed; it was just a matter of finding the right buyer to haggle with. Once it started becoming apparent that you were unlikely to encounter what you were looking for near the shore, they charted a course westward into the desert towards where Johnny hoped he remembered seeing an encampment last time he passed through this way.

They’d allowed you to walk as far as you could until the ground became too hot for their liking, having made the mistake of hissing when bare skin met a particularly scorching plot of land now that there was far less greenery to cushion your steps. Kyle hadn’t even asked this time before sweeping you up into his hold, garnering a half-hearted round of complaints from you that were quickly silenced without any real fight. You could’ve tried harder to convince them to let you keep going on your own, but without proper footwear it was genuinely becoming uncomfortable to be on the ground for more than a few moments at a time. You just hoped for your cousin’s sake that he wouldn’t have to bear the extra weight for too terribly long. Just because he was fit didn’t mean his arms didn’t eventually tire.

Conversation was minimal as you trekked through the desert, too focused on their own surroundings to do more than the occasional banter. Must’ve taken a little under an hour before Johnny held up a hand to halt your movements, recognizing a nearby rock formation and turning in that direction. If his memory served right, there was a tribe located at the base of it that was more welcoming to passersby. 

The Bedouin tribes of the Sahara were mainly known for being camel herders as opposed to sheep and cattle - for obvious reasons. They migrate as the seasons change, retreating back into the desert during the rainy winter season and towards cultivated land once the dry summer months returned. If some element of luck had not been on your side and you’d happened here during the wrong time, chances were you’d still be wandering around looking for civilization. 

Once your group got within range of the settlement, a small handful of men flagged you down at your approach, coming out to meet you while Johnny pushed you back to stand behind him. Kyle stepped forward as the men began to converse, speaking a dialect of Arabic that you were mildly familiar with but Kyle was stumbling through. He knew enough basics to get by in Cairo, but some of their words garnered looks of total confusion from him that ultimately was getting the group nowhere. 

You let him keep trying for a bit longer before taking pity on the poor sod and peeping out from behind the bulky figure protecting your modesty. Four pairs of eyes turned towards you in surprise, Johnny’s arm coming back to block you while you relayed your desire for adequate supplies and transport. When you discussed your need for appropriate clothing as well, they were kind enough to call over one of the women of the tribe who came running over holding a blanket ready to wrap around you. 

Kyle gave you a look as she rushed over, something that suggested annoyance in the thin set line of his mouth. “Wanted to watch me make a fool of myself, eh?”

You gave the woman a grateful smile as she concealed your ill-dressed form from their gaze, feeling much more at ease as she placed an arm around your shoulders and led you into camp. The grin you gave him in return spoke of thinly veiled hilarity. “Thought I'd let you try first. Give you a chance to brush up on your Arabic before emasculating you.”

Johnny didn’t even try to hide his amusement at your cousin’s expense, rewarding Kyle with a hearty slap on the back for his efforts and leaning in close to whisper something under his breath that earned him an elbow to the sternum for his words. 

You paid them no heed as you walked with your escort towards the eastern side of the settlement, the locals already conversing about the necessary details as you realized you’d be split up from the boys to leave them to deal with whatever sort of arrangements needed to be made for your travels. Hopefully there was someone more knowledgeable in English that could assist them in your absence.

You didn’t have any other experiences with the Bedouin to form a picture in your head of the size of the encampment compared to others, but it certainly wasn’t a compact setup they had going on here. Family groups living within sizeable elaborate tents fluttered about tending to their household responsibilities while their children and grandchildren darted between the structures with all the playful innocence of untouched youth. Livestock grazed amongst the small bit of foliage, corralled in pens and cages to be fattened up whilst awaiting their inevitable ends. 

The women were covered from head to toe, the men and children less hidden and sporting brighter colors and patterns. Clothing hung out to dry on suspended lines of rope, women carrying braided wicker baskets to and fro while chatting away the hours of hard work under an unforgiving sun. It was a thriving community that even out here in these barren wastelands had carved out a peaceful existence away from the worries of the larger world. 

As exciting as it was to be surrounded by peoples of such an incredibly rich culture, it was also a little nerve wracking to say the least. This tribe seemed used to trade, but there was no denying your group stuck out like a sore thumb.

Easy to feel like a complete outsider when you were one. 

How were you supposed to act out here amongst the rolling desert dunes? You knew it was a patriarchal society and you were the most scantily clad thing here, surrounded by dark veiled modest women and stern appraising eyes of men. There had to be a dozen faux pas you were breaking right now, a realization that set your teeth on edge. 

Just another example of how woefully unprepared you were to deal with anything other than wealthy socialites or bookworms.

Your cousin must have sensed your hesitancy as the woman leading your troop tried to usher you further into the settlement, a different path than the one the men were heading off towards for supplies. Not that you suspected any foul play or deceit on the Bedouins' part, but it was easier to navigate all the unfamiliarity with your much more worldly companions by your side.

“We've got this, dolly. You'll be alright on your own for a bit,” Kyle offered with a comforting grin and a hand on your shoulder, “Go get yourself proper while we take care of negotiations.”

“Jus’ give a holler if anythin’ happens and we'll come runnin’ right tae ya,” piped up Johnny with a lazy grin but a promise in his eyes that he meant every word of it. 

That soothed your nerves more than anything, flashing him a meek grateful smile as you allowed your chaperone to lead you onward with a firm hand between the shoulder blades.

It took almost no time afterwards to arrive at your apparent destination. The woman charged with your care lifted aside a curtain as she bade you enter the abode, finding a younger pair inside that looked up at you upon your arrival. One must have been closer to your age, the other far younger as she sat in the former’s lap and let her comb out her long dark tresses. She introduced them as her two daughters who greeted you warmly with bowed heads. Once they were informed of your situation, you were beckoned closer and instructed to remove your gown, the youngest off to the back to retrieve some items for a quick wash up. 

You were used to the kind of treatment they offered back in your younger years, having had servants that would assist with your bathing and beauty routine that followed. It was a bit different being given such kindness from strangers, having been stripped out of your remaining clothes and cleansed from a bucket. The desert was thoroughly scrubbed from your flesh, scalp lathered in oils that would help protect your skin and hair from the harsh rays of the sun. Even though you knew this small luxury was fleeting, it was nice to not smell like a vagrant for a little while at least.

The older woman stepped away as soon as you dried yourself, huffing under her breath that she had nothing to fit you and disappearing for what you assumed was a mission to remedy that. You were made to kneel on a cushion, towel draped around you whilst the eldest daughter took up position in front of you, a small vial of kohl in her hands to be applied to your eyes.

You were not accustomed to cosmetics being applied to your waterline, the black liner smudged above your lower lashes causing you to blink back tears. Supposedly it was good for your overall eye health, but the jury was still out until the stinging from the foreign substance subsided for you. Meanwhile, the youngest was all smiles and giggles as she settled down behind you, comb in hand that she began to gently tug through your tangles; a comment was made comparing you to one of her beloved dolls before her sister shushed her for saying so.

Their mother returned shortly with a bundle of dark cloth in her arms, ushering you to your feet as she made quick work of slipping the garments up over your head. Your underthings were replaced with similar items, all very plain and practical in contrast to the beautiful thobe they graced you with.

The material itself was made of an airy lightweight fabric and infinitely more breathable than what you left your home in yesterday morning. The black coloring was detailed with elegant hand stitched beading, silver embellishments catching the light and twinkling like little sewn-in constellations. There was a soft melodic chiming with every movement, small polished coins accenting your waist and jingling in a way that almost begged for lively music to be played. The shoes you slipped into were soft but sturdy, fine dark linen adorning your head as the woman gave you brief instructions on how best to wrap it to protect your face from the desert sands if need be. 

Once you finally got a proper look at yourself in the mirror, you were stunned at the difference a change of style and darker makeup could do to your features, a far cry from the latest London fashions shipped down to your estate in Cairo. Despite having lived in the country for most of your life, you’d never before been dressed in the cultural attire worn by some of the natives. Giving a slow twirl at the women’s urgings, you decidedly felt at home in the designs much the same way as you did in your everyday skirts.

Satisfied with your appearance, they accompanied you back out into the encampment to hunt down and rejoin the others. You had to admit that whatever trick the kohl provided, you did find yourself having to squint less under the sun’s brightness. Seeing its effects in action, you were now grateful for the small vial they’d slipped into your hand moments ago so that you could keep reapplying it during your travels.

It didn’t take long to locate Kyle and Johnny near a resting herd of camels, standing around as a group of men readied the beasts for a long trek out into the vast Sahara dunes. Seeing how much equipment was being packed onto the backs of them, you wondered just how much coin Johnny had stashed away in his bag to be able to afford the pretty penny’s worth they had acquired.

They both looked at ease as they chatted amongst themselves, Kyle leaning back against a nearby cart with his arms crossed over his chest, sleeves rolled up to his elbows much the same as his friend. He’d obtained some more gear for his person going by the leather gun holster strapped over his shoulders carrying matching pistols, a dark blue neckerchief tied above his unbuttoned dress shirt left open to reveal the tight wife beater underneath.

Your cousin had always been a bit of a pretty boy, but even with his striking good looks he was the epitome of casual danger. 

Johnny, on the other hand, looked devilishly roguish. He hadn’t altered his outfit much in comparison to Kyle - only adding a tan patterned neckerchief of his own and an extra button undone from the top - but there was a difference in the way he seemed to carry himself now. Something in his air and mannerisms that felt primed to go off at any given moment. 

This was a man in his element; not in the dredges of society, but out here amongst the wild and the unexpected. You’d seen him as a low-life; you’d seen him more refined. Now you were seeing him as he truly was: a fighter — both of them.

His appearance lured you in, his eyes ensnaring you as the pair at last took notice of your approach. Where your cousin offered you one of his signature bright smiles, Johnny’s face became deceptively neutral. Gone was the grin he’d just shared with your cousin, hidden behind something you desperately wanted to claw at. It was as if all the emotion retreated from his expression only to be refocused behind the gaze he swallowed you up with, dark blue sapphires holding you defenselessly captive and burning hot coals in places you’d never reached before. 

It wasn’t until Kyle stepped forward and broke your line of sight with Johnny that you were able to blink away from whatever he’d been subconsciously trying to relay to you.

“There’s our girl.” Kyle took hold of your hand and gave you a spin, eyes raking over your new attire as you blushed from his playful attentions. “Far cry from the frills and stuffy dresses you usually force yourself into every day, huh dolly?”

Pulling your hand from his, you gave him a light shove that he had the decency to fake stumbling back from. “I happen to like those dresses, thank you very much. Nothing wrong with enjoying the finer parts of being a lady. Meanwhile, sir, you seem to have lost your waistcoat.” You couldn’t help but tease him back as you tugged at his open billowy dress shirt. 

“Not much to impress out in the middle of nowhere. Certainly not you lot,” he added, tossing a grin back at your companion.

Johnny had returned to normal by the time your vision swept that way, the previous interaction a mere mirage as he returned the snarky comment with a playful one of his own. “Yer right. Ain’t no damsels in distress ‘round fer ye to showboat fer. Aye, hen?”

The wink he sent your way paired with the subtle compliment left you glowing, something fluttering in your chest that you pushed aside so as not to let it fester.

Your cousin snorted his response, Johnny’s attention pulled to the Bedouin man next to him that had finished securing the group’s new belongings to your transportation. He gave the man a quick smile and a nod as he took hold of the reins, giving the camel a firm pat on its neck. Turning his awareness back to you, Johnny motioned with his head for you to approach. 

“Ever rode a camel, lass?”

“Oh, no. I learned side saddle on horses when we visited Kyle’s family estate during the summers, but beyond that it’s been years since I’ve even been on the back of one.” You reached out to give the animal a scritch on its head behind the ears, the short dense hairs course yet fluffy to the touch. 

“Not much different,” he shrugged, eyes keen on your form. “Jus’ a wee bit taller and bumpier a ride, s’all. Ye’ll have it down in no time.”

Johnny gave a downward tug on the reins; that paired with a clicking noise from his tongue had the camel lowering itself on folded knees to the earth, resting on its legs as he slapped his hand down on the padded blanketed seat. “Best we be gettin’ a move on then.”

You were suddenly aware of the fact that there were three of them in the vicinity, one for each of you to be riding separately. You’d anticipated having to share with one of the others, not quite sure how to logistically navigate this on your own. “How am I meant to sit on that thing? The way it moves I’ll be forced to grip the pommel the whole time so as not to take a tumble off the side.”

“Looks like yer gonna get a taste o’ wha’ it’s like tae be a man, lass.”

That wasn't exactly a welcome response.

“O-one leg on each side?” The notion caught you off guard, wide eyes glancing down at your dress which was admittedly a lot flowier and less constricting than normal. Flashing skin was far less scandalous than it had been when you were born, but it wasn’t something you were used to doing even with some type of pantyhose or stocking underneath. You hadn’t much need for flapper dresses nowadays with the company you kept.

“Go on, dolly.” Kyle was looking far too entertained at your obvious hesitance to break out of your comfort zone, hopping up on his own stead with practiced ease. “You wanted to be an adventurer, yeah? Gotta get over this hump first.”

You pulled at your bottom lip with your teeth, hands fidgeting with some of the small coins belted around your waist in nervousness. Should you scoot onto it from the side and swing your legs over? Do you gather up the material first and then sit down? Why was this so bloody hard when the men made it look easy?

“Right, up ye get.” Apparently not possessing the patience for you to figure out how best to mount the beast in a skirt, you squeaked as Johnny's firm calloused hands suddenly took hold of your waist, hefting you up the short height onto the animal and depositing you in the saddle. With how wide your legs parted to accommodate its size, your thobe rode up past your stockings to reveal your knees and lower thighs, grabbing at the thin material and trying to drag it down as far as it could go to maintain some slight modesty. 

You didn’t have time to be embarrassed as Johnny once again made a clicking sound with his tongue, patting the camel on its haunches as it began to stand from its resting position. You scrambled for the saddle pommel with a vice grip, squealing at the clunky rocking motion that jarred you as it rose to its full height. If your reflexes had been even a moment slower, you would've flown ass over tea kettle off the back and onto the hard ground below.

Settling back down after that brief scare, you were shocked at just how much you towered over everything. You were used to the elevation that came with being on a horse; this creature had well over a foot on your largest thoroughbred.

“Lookit that!” Johnny clapped his hands excitedly with a throaty chuckle. “Yer a proper natural.” With how wide of a grin he was giving you, you nearly missed the way his eyes briefly admired the exposed skin of your lower half before patting your foot from his spot below in supportive praise. 

He left you alone to mosey on over to his own ride, Kyle bringing his camel up alongside yours and flashing you a smile which you found impossibly infectious. Here you were, astride a massive beast in the middle of the Sahara about to undertake a journey that would help change humanity’s understanding of ancient Egyptian society during the New Kingdom forever.

You couldn’t wait to find the long lost City of the Dead and all the excitement it would bring.

<< �� Previous ✿ << ✽ >> ✿ Next ✿ >>

[townofcadence]

It was almost absurd, how rapid a day could switch from pleasant to devastating.

It could happen in the most unexpected places too, like during a small book faire at the local library. He had been perusing the tables, both to support such an important building to his community, and to find some used books both for him, and potentially for Caelan to consume as well. It had been a good day; there was a certain joy in buying books, in knowing he held something with knowledge and information he might not yet have discovered from other sources. And with most everything being sold being what the library needed to get rid of, it was all used, and definitely affordable.

And then she'd hailed him.

It wasn't....really a bad conversation, initially. She was a girl he'd known in high-school; Peyton, one of the girls from the cliques that really cared about their self-image. He remembered her well enough to recognize her, since she was the one who coerced Elias into going on a few dates. He had said yes, but she was the kind to lay on the pressure until you did, and he had always been too much of a people-pleaser to let anyone down. Thankfully someone else had come along that she deemed more her type, and those few dates had ended without further issues.

He felt awkward from the get go, but mainly the conversation had revolved around her being here to visit her family and deciding to stop in at the faire, and asking how things had been since she left town. It was small talk between past peers: most of it he was wondering what made her want to talk to him as he answered some of her questions and tried to politely offer some to her as well. She had left town for a bigger city and had a husband there. She had a podcast she ran with a friend. He nodded along.

Honestly, he just wanted to look at books instead.

And then, he figured out why she approached him; she asked about Elias, as 'you two were so close'. It made sense, then, why she'd even talk to him. He could feel her anticipation. The left turn was a sour pit in his stomach.

Said pit widened itself to a chasm the more questions she asked. Especially as she started needling about how Elias had disappeared, without a trace. She brought up rumors she'd heard, anything from him running away to elope with his girlfriend, to he had joined some government agency, to he was in witness protection. He sat with the truth tight around his neck, constricting just a little tighter each theory she posited.

The final blow was a slap to the face, the chasm's cliffs giving way to just a gaping hole. Her eyes had cast on him and her head had tilted in this perfectly innocent expression. "I also heard you did it. Some friends of mine said you three had a falling out right before, right? They weren't talking to you at all and you looked so miserable. A lot of people say it's your fault. You drove them away or murdered them or something. Lots of places to hide bodies out here. And oh, you know how true-crime girls can get when they think they've figured out something juicy like that. But it is awfully suspicious how they vanished right after things changed with you. You had to be angry, right? How angry were you? Do you have anything to do with what happened? How did you react when they disappeared? I mean you did have that one murder news story tied to you, didn't you? The one with that one guy from high-school? Oh-- sorry, 'self defense'. But it's awfully suspicious, don't you think?"

Her tone wasn't fully accusatory, but her gaze was scrutinizing, as if looking for any tell, any sign he was guilty. He could see her phone in her hand, but it only registered like a hazy periphery. Too many feelings threaded their way through him, the blood draining from his face. They were infected wounds even after years, and her perfectly manicured nails had managed to dig into the skin and make both bleed again. His throat was dry no matter how much he swallowed. His hands came up together, right hand clutching his left wrist in a curled position, over his chest. "I--- I--"

"So you do know." She'd advanced closer, taking away that semblance of protective distance. He was thrown off too much to push back for himself, drowning in a slew of old feelings. She looked like she smelled blood, maybe for her fucking podcast or something. Her phone came up higher. "The truth will come out either way, so if you tell me, then I can help your story sound a lot more sympathetic, I know you had something to--."

The familiar voice cutting-in felt like a fucking blessing. They must've spotted them. She stopped, startled by the interjection, and it was enough for him to manage a ragged breath.

"I--- it's okay." He tried to sound normal, but his voice was splintering and wooden. "I'm-- you don't have to worry." He wished he was anywhere but here, wished he could do something other than worry his friend, and talk to someone who wanted to--- probably boil one of the worst moments of his life down into a #tragedy on tiktok for views. Or worse, given the line of her self-appointed sleuthing.

"We were just having a conversation." She adds, and it's like jagged glass in his brain. His hand finds it's way to his hair to tug on a few strands, to ground himself and he averts his eyes. "I'm not doing anything to him."

[slocumjoe]

Gage with Sole that gets lost in nuka cola world? Like he doesnt pay attention to them for one second and they already wandered off and has no clue where they at "gage pick me up im scared and there are flying ants"

aka my experience being underleveled and doing the hardest areas of the park first :'D

Gage and Overboss's No Good, Very Bad Vacation In Nuka World

Realistically, Gage should have anticipated it. It's was a theme park, they were designed to be massive labyrinths with money sinks at every corner. The bigger and more confusing it is, the more likely someone will get lost and wander, and hopefully stumble into a shop or something. This is basic Capitalist Design 101.

Another thing he should have expected was that there were damn good reasons the other parks weren't already full of raiders, living the high life. Colter didn't do it because he was lazy; no one else did for fear of death. Gage himself never heard of anyone coming back from the other parks, that means they don't.

So, really, he should have considered it his own damn fault for not thinking about it, the first time he lost track of his shiny new Overboss.

That first time, it happened in that bottling plant. They went into a door, he followed behind, they went into another door, and another, and shit got weird from there when the soda river erupted with crabs.

He killed some crabs. They killed some crabs. He turned to see where they were killing crabs and saw jack shit.

It was then that he realized that the bottling plant was echoey as fuck, and he hadn't been behind them for...a good ten minutes, at least, just following noises that came from God knows where.

Gage didn't know the layout of the place. Neither did they. The fact that the river is just one line doesn't help shit, because there's employee tunnels, manufacturing, the rest of the plant. The plant was fucking big. They could have been anywhere. Whererever they were, there was more fucking crabs. And Gage, being a good underling who had to pull a lot of strings to get to this point in the first place, wasn't very okay with the idea of his boss being crab dinner.

So he hit the legs, backtracking through tunnels, the walkways above the bottling zones/whatever the fuck those were. Kept finding crabs he didn't kill, good start. Kept hearing gunfire, grenades, crab-screaming. Less good. Ended up back on the soda river (what the fuck was wrong with these people). Accidentally triggered every fucking pre-recorded line from the intercom, which drowned out the shit he needed to hear. At this point, Boss has been fighting for their goddamn life for twenty minutes, and the walls had started to melt into one big blob of samey-samey. Not even the sky was this blue.

Eventually, they found him, pursued by six hunters. He killed some crabs. They killed some crabs. He turned around, grabbed them, and was about to threaten to put them on one of them toddler leashes if they wandered off like again. But then a pack of Assaultatrons kicked down a door and they jumped in different direction away from the lasers. Ran down different hallways. Found more crabs. Killed more crabs, pursued by Assaultatrons. He knew Boss ran back into the river, because the all of Announcer Lady's lines were playing over and over each other, like the layers of hell condensing into a pure diamond of auditory psychology warfare.

Gage didn't notice when the chaos stopped, when the robots and crabs started dropping. It just happened and he had to take a breather, find his happy place. When he met back up with the boss, they were covered in stab wounds from stimpaks, used all their ammo and grenades, and thought that a suit of power armor made up for it.

The power armor did do well against the crab kings on the roof. It did not survive the Queen in the pond.

After this, he pulled them aside, told them to slow the fuck down and not charge through places like a drunk bull in a china shop. They said yes, Gage, I will definitely do that, and I will definitely proceed with caution and carry extra supplies on my personal.

They did, for their credit.

The Mr. Frothy's, however, didn't let that stay true for long.

Both of them took one step into Galactic World, and a fucking soda nuke dropped in between them. And again, they scrambled for different cover. Then a Frothy went after Gage, and the soda bomber bot went after the boss, and they had to separate again.

It'll be fine, he thought, I'll just kite around this corner that leads back into the main area, this wall is like three feet wide, this doesn't lead into a different level entirely.

It did.

Gage made it to the middling level of the Galactic Zone, every eyebot swarming like they wanted fresh meat or some shit, and the Overboss was running from the Nukatrons and a Mr. Frothy screaming about strangling them. Couldn't go the way he came, had his own robot fixated on asphyxiation behind him. Kept running. Then the laser turrets kicked on, and this was now an exercise in agility and being God's favorite.

When the robots patrolling the park finally all died, it was midnight, Gage was half-dead, had no ammo, and no indication that the overboss was alive, save Redeye's music playing at full volume somewhere nearby. Back to Nuka-World for supplies, sleep, and a nervous breakdown.

The next day, they took on the Vault attraction.

It seemed like things were looking up. Sure, the boss got lost looking for...what, stickers on the walls? Something with dumb bottle-cap glasses. But the robots were few and far between, the space was small and linear enough Boss couldn't wander off too far, and they made it out having not used all of their ammo. It was a good sign.

They went to the Interstellar Theatre, next.

Boss had the good idea to go in quiet, sneak around. They found an elevator up to the projection room, found a starcore, and figured that the area was clear, or at least mostly safe. They just cut all the power, after all.

The robots are motion activated.

Fighting turrets, protectatrons, Mr. Handy's in the dark was bad enough. But whoever the fuck put a sentrybot in a theatre, Gage hoped they went to hell.

He found the boss trying to drown themselves in a water fountain, when the last bot went down.

Back to Nuka-World for ammo, stimpaks, and another nervous breakdown as a treat

I saw a robot fighting ring, Boss said. The bots would have already killed each other in there, they said.

So they went to the Robco Battleground.

One or two robots, the rest were dormant. Thank. God. Boss found some starcores, some good loot, went into a door in a basement with robots.

The door shut and maglocked behind them. The pre-recorded announcer starting up the match. All those dormant robots in the basement woke up. On one side of that door, the Overboss fought for their goddamn life with a bunch of tincans. On the other, Gage did the same damn thing. When it opened back up, guess what they did? Yep, back to Nuka-World for stimpaks, ammo, and another nervous breakdown. And a shower, because flammable oil is not a good thing to be covered in, when using firearms. Gage heard the boss muttering and giggling about laser turrets to the plush toy sloth they picked up, and wondered if he would have to put them down out of mercy.

And then the fucking...Nuka Galaxy ride.

So dark. So big. So long. It was the longest attraction at that fucking park. Couldn't see your hands in front of you. Gage could have lost his mind in that section with the giant fake rocks. Found a lot of dead people who did, anyway. Once the Frothy's came barreling out from a hallway, yet again, the Boss went one way, he went the other. When they killed the bots, had to marco-polo triangulate their way back to each other. And then the area with the giant UFOs, and no lighting on the scaffolding. Who the fuck made this park? None of this was OSHA compliant, surely. You know what's even less OSHA compliant?

Laser turrets on EVERY FUCKING WALL.

Laser turrets on every UFO, every ceiling, every wall, every stairwell, every giant fake rock, laser turrets everywhere. Why? Why would Nuka Cola Corporation think they needed this many? Were they expecting two dipshit raiders to come strolling on through, and hated them, specifically? They weren't fucking ashing little Timmy for lifting from the gift shop, right?

You know what else sucks? Laser turrets high above you, in a pitch black corridor, where there's a drop just mere feet in front of you.

Boss didn't get lost in here because Gage grabbed them by the scruff of their shirt if they so much as leaned too far away. No, he doesn't care what shiny thing you see, you are staying within arm's length. Fuck treasure, fuck Galactic Zone, and fuck John Nukacola, or whatever his name was.

Gage never again let them get more than five feet away from him, after Galactic Zone was cleared, and the boss never again had to whisper hateful nothings about laser turrets to their sloth toy.

[suspensefulpen]

Whumpcember Day 31: (Alt. 2) Forced to Watch

TW: Forced to Watch, Betrayal, Creepy Whumper, Chain Restraints, Brief Blood Mention

@whumpcember

The thump of the heavy boots pacing across the room was accompanied by the six pounding heartbeats. Despite how long the team has been here, under Whumper’s “care,” as he liked to call it, not one of them had gotten used to his intimidating presence. All crouching together, they hoped it would make them seem bigger and also intimidating. 

It did not. 

Whumper hummed. He knew it was hurting each of them to strain closer to each other with the chains weighing their limbs down. They looked desperate. Almost like they had hope they’d be okay. It made Whumper hold back a chuckle. It was adorable to see all their determined gazes watching him. He paused when his own fell on the smallest, Whumpee. 

They were quite weak. More than just physically at that. Whumper could get tears out of them very easily. Not just tears. Screams, bruises, scars. Their wounds appeared beautifully. It almost made Whumper want to take them out of the basement and give them a room of their own. They’d receive special treatment. 

Wait… 

That’s actually a perfect idea. 

Whumper suppressed his smirk. He surveyed each of their expressions, delight rising in his chest at the team’s anticipation. He stepped closer to the circle they created. They scrambled away from each other, hoping they wouldn’t be the first to take a punishment. Or as Whumper liked to put it, giving them love and attention. 

He stepped up to Whumpee who already had tears in their eyes. Whumper leaned down to be at eye level with them. He raised Whumpee’s head with his pointer finger underneath their chin, humming at all of the bruises decorating their neck and chest. He smiled at how stiffly they were sitting. They were obviously scared. It was cute though. 

Whumper pulled out a ring of keys and freed Whumpee from their chains. Both Whumpee and the rest of the team looked on in shock. Once they were completely unchained, Whumper lifted them up and bridal carried them towards the stairs. 

“Where are you taking them?!” He heard Leader demand. Whumper only ignored them, making his way out of the basement. 

“Why are you taking me away?” Whumpee asked timidly, still nervous. 

“Oh don’t worry darling. You’ll get your own room.” Whumper smiled. 

“But why? What are you going to do to the others?” 

“Don’t worry your pretty face about it.” Whumper walked into a room with a large bed, surprising Whumpee. A chair sat in front of the bed, rope was on the floor next to it. Whumpee assumed the bed wasn’t there for them to rest on. At least, not right now. Just the mere sight of the bed made them realize just how much their body ached from being on the floor all of the time. They were placed on the chair and Whumper went to grab the rope when he paused. “I’m not sure I’ll need this. You behave really well. Unlike your ungrateful cellmates.” 

Whumpee shifted uncomfortably. “Well, I don’t want to get hurt… Or punished.” 

“So you just listen to what I say?” They nodded slowly. Whumper hummed. “I think I have a favorite now. I’ll go easy on you just because you said that. I may even give you a little…aftercare.” 

“Thank you, Sir.” 

“And you come with manners too?” Whumper let out a chuckle. “I should’ve given you special attention a whole lot sooner, huh?” Whumpee didn’t respond. “Alright, love, sit tight and look pretty, alright?” They nodded slowly, watching Whumper leave the room. Whumpee began to wonder if this would end badly for them. What about the rest of the team? What was going to happen to them? Were they going to get hurt worse? 

Meanwhile, Whumper came back to the basement with a laptop in hand. He couldn’t contain his smirk as Leader demanded to see Whumpee. He ignored them and placed the laptop in front of the team before making his exit without another word. Moments later, Whumpee appeared on screen. 

“Whumpee!” Leader shouted desperately. “Whumpee, can you hear us?” Whumpee didn’t react. They kept their head down. Leader shouted louder. “Whumpee!” 

Whumper appeared on screen, walking up to Whumpee. He crouched down in front of Whumpee. “I know I said I trust you’ll behave, but I’m still going to put your wrists and ankles together, alright? I won’t tie you to the chair and it won’t be too tight.” 

“Okay. Thank you Sir.” 

“Sir?!” The team shouted in unison. A crooked grin appeared on Whumper’s face as he tied the rope, it almost seemed as if he heard them. 

“Whumpee,” He stood up. “You may have noticed I don’t ever do anything to your face. Do you know why?” He walked off screen. 

Whumpee followed with their eyes. They shook their head. “No Sir.” 

“Really?” Whumper sounded shocked. “Well you’re quite gorgeous Whumpee. You haven’t noticed?” They didn’t respond. “That’s such a shame! Your cellmates never praised you for your beauty? They’ve never told you how pretty you are? Hm, they must be jealous.” Whumper walked up to Whumpee. He tilted their head up. “They don’t appreciate you, do they?” Whumpee slowly shook their head, shocking the team once again. They were even more shocked when they saw a tear roll down their cheek. Whumper wiped it away with his thumb. “Aw, don’t cry love. I appreciate you.” He hummed. “I almost don’t want to hurt you anymore. You look so pitiful. It’s a shame, the way they treat you. I’ll make this quick for both of us, alright?” 

“Thank you Sir.” 

Whumper examined Whumpee for a minute, almost like he was hesitating. It wasn’t long before he squeezed Whumpee’s neck. Leader began shouting at the screen for Whumper to stop. They didn’t realize they were the only one saying anything. The rest of the team only watched in silence. When Whunpee’s body went limp, they lunged forward to catch them. Their restraints quickly made them realize they couldn’t do anything to stop this. 

“Why are you even trying, Leader?” Medic suddenly asked. 

“What?” They turned around and found everyone else frowning. “What did you say?” 

“I said why are you trying to save them? They can’t hear us and we don’t know where they are. Not to mention what they just said.” Medic said. 

“What do you mean why am I trying to save them? Isn’t that the whole point of this team in the first place? We’re supposed to save people.” 

“Clearly, Whumpee doesn’t want to be saved.” Teammate Four frowned. “They’ve had more than one chance to get away and they haven’t taken any of them.” 

“Well, Whumpee is weak. It’s not like if they try they’ll succeed.” Teammate Five added. 

“I think we should let Whumper do what he wants to them. They were never any help in the missions in the first place. They’re just deadweight.” 

“To be honest, I never liked Whumpee in the first place.” Medic said. “So I don’t care what happens to them.” 

Leader stared at them all in shock. They frowned. “Well I still care. We went through the trouble of getting them on the team, why give up now? We’re supposed to stick together.” 

“Well maybe you should tell Whumpee that. They’re the ones who betrayed us. I wouldn’t be surprised if they were just a spy for Whumper. How do you explain the many times he found out what we were doing?” 

Leader turned back to the screen. Tears were now flowing down Whumpee’s cheeks as red bloomed on their white shirt and they gasped for oxygen. Whumper stood off screen somewhere, no longer holding his hand on their throat. 

“With Whumpee now out of the way, we have a better chance of escaping. There was no way all six of us were going to make it out of here anyway.” Teammate Five stated. 

“I guess you’re right…” Leader almost sounded far away as they watched Whumpee writhe around and scream in pain. “We don’t need Whumpee.” 

[laurenairay]

All I’ve Tried to Hide - A. Svechnikov

This is my entry for the winter fic exchange 2k23, run by the wonderful @antoineroussel​.

I received @hoesforthecanes​ as a giftee, so I really hope you enjoy this Anna!

I had a lot of fun incorporating the ‘forbidden love’ trope that you had a preference for, and with writing a full fic for Andrei Svechnikov for the first time! I really hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it! 🥰 definitely finished this quicker than I expected, but I was so inspired, so here we go!

All photos in the header banner are not mine; found across pinterest. Title from Dirty Little Secret, by All American Rejects.

Word count: 2k

Warnings: light angst, implied sexual moments, a little fluff

Summary: Hooking up with Andrei Svechnikov was all fun and games, as long as your brother didn’t find out…

We can’t choose who we fall in love with.

That’s what you told yourself, over and over again, every time you saw him. Every time you felt his molten gaze brushing over your body. Every time his smirk sent shivers down your spine. Every time he walked across the bar to you with that intense stare, your body filling with eager anticipation.

Because no-one knew.

That’s right, no-one knew that you and Andrei Svechnikov had been sleeping together for nearly six months now – and that’s the way it needed to stay. Why? Because your brother hated the idea of you being with an athlete. A few horrifically failed relationships in high school and college, all with athletes of various kinds, had left you broken in pieces on your older brother’s doorstep every single time, and now that you’d wound up living with him after your last failed relationship – as well as working in his bar – you were dependent on his charity. So if he said no more athletes, then it was no more athletes…at least until you could get on your own two feet again.

What? You had a type, as much as it shamed you – and Andrei fit your type to a tee.

You could remember the first time you saw him. A big loud group of bigger louder guys had filled your brother’s bar, instantly attracting attention from most the patrons, and as a few of them pushed a couple of tables together, he had walked up to the bar where you were working. You could remember the soft smile on his lips as he leant over the bar top to place his order, the gentle rumble of his lilting accent intriguing you, and you knew the moment that he set up a limitless tab with a confident wink that you were in trouble. It had only taken a couple more visits before he was slipping through the staff door, the two of you connecting in a heated make-out in a secluded corner of the storage room out back, his lips, tongue, and hands sending you wild like no-one ever had before.

And it continued, over and over again, escalating to the two of you hooking up at Andrei’s place whenever he was in town, somehow managing to avoid your brother’s judgement, keeping your risqué relationship away from the bar and under wraps.

Everything had been perfect, until the passing of your birthday last week. Andrei had been on a roadtrip on the day itself, and you’d only just about managed to convince him not to send you a bouquet of flowers to the bar (which was out of character in itself), but now that he was back he’d insisted on celebrating properly with you, so you’d come over to his place for the evening. He’d hired a private chef to cook the most amazing three course meal, the two of you sipping on the most delicious wine you’d ever tasted throughout, and as soon as the chef left, he’d whisked you off to his bedroom, bringing you to dizzying heights over and over again, until you were wailing his name out for the entire city to hear.

It was only when he presented you with a diamond necklace, your skin still gleaming and your breathing still ragged, that you realised you weren’t just falling in love with him – you had fallen, head over heels, hook line and sinker. And you also realised that you needed to end things now, before you fell in too deep to recover.

“Andrei, what is this?”

“Your birthday gift?” he said, frowning softly in confusion, “Is it too much? Do you not like it?”

“It’s beautiful…but it isn’t what we do?” you said, wincing.

His frown sunk into a deeper confused expression, so you sat upright, clutching the bedsheets to your bare chest.

“We just – this is just hooking up, Andrei. You shouldn’t be buying me expensive gifts like this. Even hiring a chef to cook for us feels crazy,” you said softly, hating the words as they spilled from your lips.

You watched as his face shuttered, his broad shoulders drawing in on himself, hating yourself for making such a big guy look so small. What was wrong with you? Why were you doing this to him when it felt so wrong? But then he seemed to steel himself, posture straightening and broad chest filling out once more – and he looked you dead in the eyes, making your breath hitch in your throat.

“You are saying this because of your brother?”

His blunt statement made you wince – it was hardly a secret how your brother felt – the anger in his words feeling like a sharp stab, mostly because he was right.

“Andrei, I-”

“I don’t want to keep lying,” he said, interrupting, “lying to myself, to you, to the world. I don’t care that your brother doesn’t want you with an athlete. I know you like me and I like you, and I want you to be mine without all the stupid lying. Why can’t you understand that?”

His words rushed through your body like burning fire, his accent getting thicker as he spoke, showing you exactly how genuine his passion was. But it didn’t change that fact that nothing could change. Even though he was confessing everything you were desperate to hear, matching your own feelings for him, because it was also everything you were trying to repress for your own good.

“It isn’t that easy,” you murmured, averting your eyes.

“So, what, I will be your dirty little secret forever? And you will do whatever your brother says, forever?”

“My brother is just trying to protect me because he loves me,” you shot back, glaring over at him.

Because this wasn’t about you being ashamed of him, or that your brother was a cruel person. You’d just messed up your love life one too many times for your brother to not want to be involved. It wasn’t that complicated.

“He loves you? Great! Well I love you too!”

Even with the anger that Andrei snapped those words at you, your whole body froze, eyes wide and lips parted in shock. And when Andrei realised what he said, he froze too, eyes wide as well as although his were wide in fear rather than in shock, as if he’d let slip something he never intended on saying.

“I didn’t…I mean, I-”

“You love me?” you managed to ask, voice soft in disbelief.

Andrei sighed but nodded, face crumpling in defeat, hanging his head to avoid looking at you.

“Andrei, I…”

You trailed off, running a hand through your unkempt hair, head swirling at his admission as all the fight drained from your body. Because how were you supposed to process this? This was everything you’d been trying to avoid, on every single level. This relationship you had with Andrei was just supposed to be a fun, fiery fling, free from any strings or expectations. And now he’d admitted his love for you, in the moment that you’d realised exactly how deep your love for him was?

What was any sane person supposed to do here?

The soft touch of Andrei’s hand resting on top of yours broke you out of your inner turmoil, and you looked over at him to see the saddest smile on his face, so unnatural in comparison to his usual happy expressions.

“I understand if you do not love me. I am sorry for putting pressure on you like that,” he said softly, smile weak, “we can pretend I didn’t say anything.”

What?

“And you’d just be happy to go back to how things were before, even with both of us knowing that it isn’t enough for you?” you asked, a little incredulous.

“If the other option is losing you entirely, then I can’t do that. I would rather have the smallest part of you, than nothing at all,” he shrugged, sad smile now reflecting the self-deprecation clearly fuelling his actions.

No, no this wasn’t okay. It wasn’t fair, not to him…and not to you. Here was a guy putting his heart and feelings on the line, believing that you were going to reject him anyway because of a few stupid mistakes you’d made in your past? A guy that treated you like no-one ever had before, brought you crashing waves of pleasure like no-one ever had before, and who cared for you like no-one ever had before? And who you cared for more than you ever had for anyone else? You were going to give up that chance of happiness, all because of a few worthless guys?

No, no way.

“I don’t want to go back to how things were before,” you said softly.

Hurt immediately flashed across his face before he quickly composed himself. “Right, okay. I’m sorry.”

It took you a few moments to realise what he meant, but when you finally did, you promptly shook your head.

“No, I didn’t mean it like that. I…”

You drew your bottom lip into your mouth as you struggled to choose the right words to say, Andrei just watching you with a hesitant expression that ever-so-slowly filled with confidence.

“You don’t want to be just a hook up?” he asked hopefully.

You shook your head, staying silent.

“You maybe want to be more?” he prompted again, a small smile spreading across his lips.

You bit your bottom lip before releasing it from your mouth, nodding shyly, earning a broad grin from the man sitting next to you.

“I need to hear you say it. Please, say it,” he pleaded softly, brown eyes wide and hopeful.

Inhaling shakily, you nodded again, looking down at your lap briefly to compose yourself before looking back at him, the hope in his eyes not having faded at all.

“I don’t know how we’re going to make it work. I don’t know how I’m going to convince my brother that this is going to work, that I’m not making another mistake. But I want to try, with you,” you said softly.

Once the words were past your lips, it felt like your blood was surging, the emotions of your confession all but overwhelming you, the hand that Andrei placed on your sheet-covered thigh the only thing that anchored you.

“You won’t regret this, I promise. I’m going to make you so happy, solnyshko,” Andrei said happily, the wide smile on his face sending butterflies soaring in your stomach.

Of that you had no doubt. No matter what happened, however your brother reacted, you knew in your heart that Andrei would be by your side, and that was enough to give you hope. His broad smile turned a little shy all of a sudden, piquing your interest as he rummaged in the sheets, clearly looking for something. And then your breath hitched in your throat as he drew out the box from earlier, delicately holding that beautiful diamond necklace.

“So if you’re mine and I’m yours, will you wear this?” he asked.

What a rush it was to hear those words.

“Right now?” you asked, confused.

He smiled sweetly, nodding, so you just nodded in return. Andrei smiled even wider, taking the necklace out of its box and unclasping it, leaning intimately closer to you as he fastened it around your neck. The cool stones sent a shiver across your heated skin, a different shiver zapping down your spine as Andrei’s finger lightly traced the edge of it, trailing across your collarbone to finish.

Unfair.

“How does it look?” you breathed.

You dropped the sheet you’d been holding to your chest the whole time you’d been sitting upright, revealing your bare body to him once more, the diamonds around your neck the only item you now wore. Andrei’s eyes darkened slightly, making your heart beat that little bit faster with the promise they held.

“Beautiful. You look beautiful,” he murmured.

When that familiar smirk crept across his lips, finally, you knew you were done for. He slowly crawled over to you, gently lowering your body back to the bed as he covered you with his own broad torso, eyes and hands and lips trailing over you in a tease that sent your blood swirling, and it was all you could do to lose yourself in his embrace.

No more secrets. No more hiding. Andrei Svechnikov was yours, and now the world was going to know.

[manofthepipis]

In a hypothetical scenario where Spamton could physically (and was mentally ready to) talk about his puppetification with all the horrors it entailed…what aspects would he discuss?

Also those post-its drawings are so gooood what the hell

Ooo so i've thought about this question a lot, like rolling the possibilities in my brain, and it makes for some rlly angsty convos that aren't meant to be but great in a hypothetical.

First, so i write ol spammy boy's puppetification due to my own hcs about how it all went down. like after he looked into the Brightest Spotlight Ever™️, he begs to his phone pal to show him more about the world above him. But in the attempt to do so, his benefactor ends up breaking him. This is when the physical glitches start and with each glitch, he becomes more and more of a literal puppet until the transformation is complete. I'd think these glitches were attempts to "fix" his programming, (maybe make him more sentient in the light world? wouldn't that be cool) but the phone guy just took more of spamton's control away from him. I believe spamton agreed to this, not knowing the consequences, but in his mind, providing more control to the guy on the phone was his ticket to becoming [bigger and better]. He was thinking that this was his way to get to that pretty light he saw in the shadow crystal, but nope, poor dude was let down and fell due to his own hubris. This preludes their connection being totally lost.

Over time, seeing less and less of himself and anticipating that feeling of the loss of self with every emerging error until it just embeds itself into his character... it's a dark theme and i love to mess with it lol. Computer body horror is just top tier

I think he'd reach out to Swatch first, as they were a front-row witness to his downfall, and he couldn't answer any question or concern they had about what was going on. He'd clear things up, detail what happened and how it wasn't him making these changes, it was his top investor. The glitches don't do any further permanent damage, they're just an after-effect now, but it's enough to make Swatch, and those around spamton, want to help him out with it. Like, Swatch was left horribly confused as to why spamton lost his marbles so abruptly and decided to latch onto neo, but this would provide an explanation rather than just give spamton an excuse for what he did.

He'd be glad to tell the addisons. Give em a good ol extra punch of guilt. While they were moping and writhing in their jealousy, thinking that spamton had it all and more, spamton was actually going through becoming a living jigsaw cosplay. After all the panic of reliving it, it'd be like him to start rlly guilting them with a smile on his face, rlly rubbing salt in the wound until it got too much.

that's my take on it at least! Honestly I can't decide if he'd talk about the implications of their existence with other darkners, but instead with us/Kris. I mean, it'd be hilarious af if he just dropped the identity of the knight and all those other mysteries, but if he did i'm 98% sure we'd just see him as unreliable and keep theorizing lmao

[mad-hunts]

i can tell when you’re lying.

snitching was not something — like many people of gotham's underground, it seemed — barton did regardless of who might be asking him questions. and while he cleaned the bloody autopsy table in front of him down with wipes, he felt like laughing in penguin's face for even thinking he'd do it. i mean, sure, the person the other was looking for didn't have any personal significance to him. but they were still just a kid to him. and barton had to admire a stranger being daring enough to ask him for help. it did seem like they anticipated that oswald would be after them. and they would be right, in this case.

the dollmaker can still remember how bad they looked when they'd entered his clinic. though it had been a few days, penguin and his lackey's didn't appear to want to show her any mercy when they tried to end her life. yes... actually, they weren't just anyone. they were a woman who apparently (and abruptly) found herself in a lot of trouble with him; presumably for stealing something that was far more valuable than she thought it was from penguin. barton was tempted to just give him the cold shoulder at this point, but he could feel his eyes boring into his. so he stopped what he was doing. the dollmaker's mask seemed to crease suddenly as he scrunched up his nose.

strangely, it seemed to be in amusement, as evidenced by the snort that escaped him right after penguin spoke to him. ❝ well, just because you want to ignore the truth doesn't mean i'm lying to you. whoever this woman is that you're looking for? she never came in here, ❞ barton threw away the wipe he was using a little more aggressively than he intended. but oh well, nothing could be done about that now. barton leaned forward towards oswald then. and the next action he made of placing both of his hands on the table might've been done purposely. for, it was almost like he was trying to mimic a predator animal's efforts to look bigger. which, of course, would be done because he wanted to scare the other away.

❝ you know, one would assume that since you own several places centered around delighting in thing's, that you wouldn't be so wound up. but you are — and you should really fix that, ❞ barton plastered on a wide smile before gesturing towards the door, ❝ however... first, i heard there's a nice trail outside, so why don't you take a hike? ❞

[zoroara]

OCtober challenge Day 30 - Worm

The longer the wait more the anticipation from both parties grew. Tyr had made sure to keep an eye on the brat as he trained. After all, just because he was hoping this kid would be able to beat him. Didn't mean he was going to lie down and let him take this win.

No, he was going to make him go through a living hell that he had to barely worm his way to victory if he could. Teach him the hell that exists even if you're skilled that you'll nearly die against some opponents, and hopefully, that even if you're a seemingly invincible monster. That the opponent being somewhat inexperienced doesn't mean you can't be taken down by them.

When the battle finally happened, Tyr was more than ready. He was surprised how well Squalo kept up with him, occasionally mimicking moves that Tyr had used and then trying to throw him off with it. It was exciting, he had never fought himself, his own sword style, so having that mixed in as well as the brat learning quickly as they fought made this battle exhilarating.

Blow for blow, swords crossed, blocked, parried, a dangerous dance that went on almost endlessly neither could even think for a second about the fact it had been two days and a whole night since they started. They didn't have time, they needed to ignore the hunger and thirst they had as they continued to clash, bleeding out more and more. It was no longer a battle of pure skill but endurance, and Tyr being a bigger target, meant it was easier for Squalo to eek in more damages.

But Tyr was always inhuman with his limitations, charging the kid he goes to stab him but blocked again, though Tyr could tell he was weakening much faster. He could see an intense fear flash in Squalo's eyes, that he was forcing to become excitement and enjoyment of this battle so that he wouldn't falter. But that only made what happened next make sense. Squalo when Tyr had been pulling his sword back from the block ran at him wildly swinging his sword in what was clearly unthinking desperation. A move only someone who was still new would even attempt.

These were the final blows needed, tearing apart Tyr's chest and leaving him with lethal wounds. He laughed, falling to the ground. He weakly says to Squalo.

"Heeeeey... Welcome ta the Varia brat... You know, the victim's supposed ta choose how they die... So can ya take my head off fer me with my sword? I think that'd be fittin'."

He was glad that Squalo didn't hesitate. Whatever was the reason it was that he listened seeing his own heavy blade lifted over his head, the last sight that many of his own victims had seen, made him elated. Shame he couldn't experience the full drop as his life was removed as it slammed into his neck, decapitating him.

And one chapter closes, that doesn't mean I won't write about him other times for before this time. But it felt a fitting end in the terms of this month.

It should be noted that yes, Tyr's signature way of killing people is kicking them over and decapitating them. Which is why he thought it'd be fitting that his life was ended that way too. But this fight gives Squalo plenty of reasons that he never fucking talks about this to the point that the only person who even mentions this battle is Dino.

Also yes, that was Scontro di Squalo, as it was said this was the final move that Squalo created and what was that killed Tyr. Which I had been thinking about a lot. We probably only see a more refined version of it, and interestingly a move we only see succeed against other sword masters as every battle that it's used, even Yamamoto's version of it fails against non-swordmasters or people who aren't playing by normal sword play rules like genkishi.

It is a move that would only theoretically work against someone expecting mastery, and is extremely hard to deflect or counter just due to the sheer amount of sword swings coming your way. But if they don't do that and go around it, then you're kind of fucked.

[jonesy-and-max]

part 13: The Line

Max drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, his eyes darting to look at Jonesy from the very peripherals of his vision. He was attempting to read the expression on her face, searching for any kind of sign that she might know that something might be off. The guilt of what had happened between him and her sister had finally begun to sink its teeth into his mind. He knew he fucked up, he tried to tell himself that it was nothing but an accident, but he knew the truth. It was no use trying to lie to himself when the swirling, floating, euphoria and dread he felt in the bubbling stew of his stomach told him all he needed to know about how he truly felt about Gina Jones. 

Jonesy held her gaze firmly out the window of the van, smoking a cigarette tightly between her lips, and tapping the ash out into the wind. She could feel Max’s eyes on her. Did he know? She blew smoke out the window and sucked on her upper lip. How could he know? That’s crazy, right? Can he hear my thoughts?? No, she chuckled internally, no no, pull yourself together, Jones. She looked at Max, who was, indeed, staring at her, his eyebrows scrunched with concern. She smiled at him like a distant cousin at a mandatory family function. Max waved politely.

They both turned from each other, unnerved.

Max pulled into the Dreamland Theatre parking lot, “Oh thank god.”

“What’s that?”

“I mean, like, oh thank god…we’re finally here! At the theater!” Max laughed and gestured emphatically.

“I know, right? It feels like it’s taken an absolute eternity for us to finally get to this fuckin’ movie, right?” Jonesy returned his laughter wearily.

Max hopped out of the van, stuffing his keys into his jacket pocket and taking a deep sigh. Jonesy followed suit, closing the door behind her, she took a moment to look at the stars that had washed over the night sky. They both still wore a tender, pink, domino mask on their faces from the pepper spray, but they had managed to clean themselves up just enough not to look concerning to the public.

Jonesy and Max were at a bit of a loss about what to do. Keeping secrets from each other was a foreign concept to them. They were always honest, always rushing to tell the other any new development in their lives. And when it came to girls? Any potential for sex and romance? These were headline news, top stories! Any other daily minutiae was relegated to absolute irrelevancy. Jonesy and Max’s hearts broke silently and longingly, unable to find the words that wouldn’t wound the other with their betrayal. They both walked briskly, noticeably silent, to the front of the theater. Neither knew how to pretend that everything was normal.

“Hey Max…” Jonesy found a scrap of courage and tried to come clean as they rounded the corner.

“Yeah, J-” Max began to reply before his eyes fell upon what he had been fearing all day, stopping him dead in his tracks.

The line for the latest Chain-Slaughter was even bigger than he had anticipated. Their adventure at Snap-Mart had delayed them just long enough for the line to grow healthy and fat.

Max stumbled, lightheaded from the interminable blows to the soul he had been enduring all opening day from the cold, cruel universe. He fell to his knees, striking the pavement with a rueful fist.

“Damn you,” He choked through gritted teeth, “Damn you all to HELL!” Max bellowed into the night sky.

Some of the people in the line turned to see what the commotion was all about, Jonesy flipped them off.

“Fuck off!”

Some scowled, others turned their attention back, away from the scene. Jonesy hooked her arm under Max’s and helped bring him to his unsteady feet.

“It’s okay, dude. It’s okay,” Jonesy tried to console him, “Hey, maybe it’s just not our night.” Though, with shame in her heart, she couldn’t help being excited that maybe she was off the hook. Maybe she could go see Jamie Reynolds after all without having to bail on Max. “We can go another time. We can go tomorrow!”

“Another time won’t be opening night!” Max roughly shrugged Jonesy’s hand off of his shoulder.

He snatched a bag of half-eaten popcorn from the trash and began to cram handfuls into his mouth. He took his spot at the end of the line, dropped his back against the brick wall and slid down to the pavement. 

Jonesy frowned and looked down at her pal. Now might be as good a moment as any, she thought, He’s already bummed, what’s one more shitty thing to add onto this turd sandwich, right?

She opened her mouth, ready to let the words come out that would free her from this, frankly, miserable night, and maybe allow her to find some small moment of joy on her own.

“Jonesy?”

She heard her name, called by a small voice. Maybe it was her imagination? Jonesy looked around, trying to determine the source.

“Jonesy! Hey, Jonesy!”

There it was again. Someone was definitely calling her, but from where?

“Maaaax!”

Max poked his head out, his eyes instantly finding Louie Santiago in the distance, all the way at the front of the line.

“Louie??” Max lit up, hope and life returning to his wilted spirit.

Louie leaned out and waved frantically, “Max! Jonesy! Hey!!” He gestured for them to come over.

“Yo, what the fuck are you doing here!” Max ran to the front, Jonesy unenthusiastically trotting behind him.

“Why, saving your spot in line of course,” Louie winked from underneath his sheep dog-like, black curls, “While you were just getting your mother’s insulin to her before she died.”

Max squinted for a moment, but quickly picked up what Louie was putting down, “Yes! My dear, sweet, bedridden, sick, sick, mother. Thank you so much! Now we can slip right back in where we left, thanks to you!”

“Any time, pal-o-mine!” Louie nudged Jonesy with his elbow.

She rolled her eyes.

If Azrael was Max’s partner in supernatural investigation, Louie was Max’s partner in crime. He was look-out, diversionary master, ears-to-the-pavement, and drummer for Jonesy and Max’s band, the thirteen year old miscreant was always there to get his mentors out of a jam.

“Hey, so! I got a surprise for you guys!” Louie winked, or maybe he winked, it was hard to tell underneath all the curls. He pulled out his drumsticks from his back pocket and used the wall of the Dreamland Theatre as his percussive instrument. He takka-takka-takka’d on the brick for dramatic effect as he made his bandmates sweat with anticipation.

“Ok, dude! What??” Jonesy grabbed the drumsticks from the kid’s hands.

“Oh!” Louie seemed to have gotten lost in his own drumroll, “I got us a huge gig! Biggest spot we’ve ever played!”

“A paying gig?” Max was suspicious, but excited.

“Cash!” He tried to grab his sticks back from Jonesy, who continued to hold them out of reach.

Jonesy and Max raised an eyebrow and side-eyed each other, “We’re listening,” they said in unison.

“Yes!” Louie started in triumph, “Ok, so my cousin Stephanie, she’s having her quinceañera next month and they need a live band! So, of course,” he nudged Jonesy with his elbow.

Jonesy swatted away his little elbow, “Stop that!” 

“I said that I know a band that’ll play on short notice!” He paused for dramatic effect, a big goofy smile on his face staring expectedly at Jonesy and Max’s expressionless faces, “Us, guys! We’re the band I was talking about, dudes!”

“A quinceañera?” Jonesy asked flatly, and repeated herself. “A quinceañera?”

“A quinceañera, dude?? Really??? A quinceañera??” Max threw his hands up in the air. He turned and walked a step before spinning back around. He opened his mouth, thought for a moment and pulled Jonesy into a sidebar, “Uh…what’s a quinceañera, exactly?”

“It’s, like, a sweet sixteen, but for fifteen year old Spanish girls.” 

“Ooooooh. Okay.” He thought again for a moment and turned back towards Louie, “We’re playing a fucking birthday party??”

Louie was looking at a bug on the cement carrying a popcorn crumb, “Huh?”

“Louie!” Max snaps his fingers, getting his little buddy’s attention, “Hey! We’re playing a teenage girl’s birthday party?” He enunciated pointedly.

“Yeah, dude! No thanks necessary, just doing my part for the band!’

“That is not punk!” Jonesy gestured emphatically, shoving the drumsticks back into Louie’s hands.

“It’s definitely not hardcore, either!”

“So who’s in the pit in this scenario?!”

“Your abuela?! Throwin’ elbows?!”

“Uncle Bob, just huckin’ your little cousins all over the goddamn place?!”

“Oh, one time my abuela did spit on a cop…”

Max cut Louie off, “Even if we did play a fifteen year old’s birthday party, what the fuck are we even supposed to play?”

“Our only good song is called “I Fucked Your Mom!” Jonesy was beside herself, “So what you're telling me, to my face, is that your cousin’s parents were cool with hiring your band called “Butt-Head,” that mainly sings about jerking off and mutilating nazis, mind you, for a teenage girl’s once and only fifteenth birthday celebration…?”

“I thought maybe it’d give us a chance to write some new material,” Louie sat on the ground, playing the cement with his drumsticks happily, completely failing to read the room, “Plus, they’re gonna give us fifteen hundred bucks! That’s, like, five hundred for each of us, or something!”

Jonesy and Max’s eyes widened, they looked at each other, raising their eyebrows.

“Well…” Max started.

“I mean…” Jonesy followed him up. “Fifteen hundred…”

“We have been meaning to stretch our legs, creatively…” Max posited.

“Why should we be tied down to one kind of music…” Jonesy supposed.

“I mean, really, music is so…” Max clucked his tongue and squinted his eyes, “It’s just a very fluid kind of art.”

Jonesy held a pair of prayer hands to her face, she squinted and nodded behind them, “Indeed.”

They nodded unpretentiously and with much sophistication at one another until finally they had reached their decision.

“We’ll do it.” They sold out in unison.

Max and Louie sat against the wall of the Dreamland Theatre discussing song ideas; homework sucks, parents suck, Uncle Bob sucks, that general idea, while Jonesy relaced her Keds. She needed somewhere to direct her nervous energy as she snuck a peak every few minutes at her Casio calculator watch. Time was ticking, if she was going to say something and bail on Max or make her peace with missing a night out with Jamie Reynolds she needed to make a decision, and she needed to do it soon.

Sweat matted her red bangs against her forehead and stuck up out of her backwards cap. She could feel her pits sticking to the inside of her shirt. The familiar feeling of flop sweat trailing down the small of her back made her shift and squirm in her skin. She could feel herself beginning to drown in her anxious indecision.

“Hey, Jonesy!” Max called her over.

“Yeah, Max!” She responded a little too loudly. “Yeah, what’s up?” She said, a little too perky.

Max raised an eyebrow, “Uh. Yeah, me and Louie were just trying to come up with song ideas. Wanted to know what you thought?”

“We already came up with…” Louie scratched his head underneath his cap with his drumstick, “15 Years Old, But You Could Die At Anytime,” and “(Mom and Dad) Just Admit I’m Your Favorite Kid.”

“And I was working on one called “I’m Glad You Fucked” and, again, with a ‘Mom and Dad’ in parenthesis at the end there.” Max added, stroking his scruff in contemplation.

Jonesy pushed the anxiety from her mind a minute and thought, “Those are actually really good. What about something like, ‘I’m fifteen, but who am I really?’ Play around with the meaninglessness of it all and the rage that comes with it.”

“Oh! Like, ‘I’m fifteen, but what does it mean! I never asked to be born! The only gift you’ve given me is this waking hell! I wanna unwrap my brains from my skull!’,” Max played with some lyrics and melody, “Like, something like that?”

“I love that!” Jonesy brightened up. She looked at Louie and then at Max, and she knew she couldn’t bail on him. No matter how much she wanted to spend the night dancing and getting close with Jamie Reynolds, opening day was their day. A new Chain-Slaughter didn’t just come out every year, and who ever knew if this was going to be the last sequel to come out in the theater, or ever for that matter? She bit her lip, and smiled warmly at Max, resigned in letting Jamie Reynolds go. It just wasn’t meant to be.

“You know what?” She extended her hand to Max, lifting him off the pavement, “Let’s give those kids a fucking show. I want those moms and dads and uncles, distant cousins, book club friends, and the whole fuckin’ catering crew to see just exactly what kind of band they hired!”

“Hell yeah, dude!” Max playfully punched her shoulder.

“Fuck the money!!” They both shouted in unison.

“I hope they call the fuckin’ cops!” Max laughed.

“I hope they try to fight us!” Jonesy cackled.

Louie laughed nervously and chewed his lip, “Uh…yeah. No doubt, no doubt.” He had forgotten just exactly who he was dealing with. “But, it’s also, like my family? So, like…?”

“Oh, you’re gonna get taken out of the fuckin’ will, my little friend.” Max grinned.

“You’re gonna have to move, sorry, dude.” Jonesy shrugged with feigned concern, “Butt-Head doesn’t fuck around! Farley and Greg can suck my dick!”

Louie chewed on his drumstick with a pained, performative laugh, “Yeah…suck your dick…” He said to no one.

Max could see that whatever cloud that was hanging over his best pal had finally passed. She seemed like her old self again. Now's as good a time as any. I mean, I’m being silly. She’s not even going to care that her sister ground one out on me in the alley. I’m being too in my own head about this, Max thought to himself with such little self-awareness it might actually be some form of brain damage.

“Hey, Jonesy!” Max said through his chuckles.

“Yeah, Max?”

“Can I tell you something?” Max asked, with all the thoughtfulness of a rabid baboon wearing a rocket launcher in a glass factory.

“Of course!” Jonesy responded, completely unaware that she was, all of a sudden, the metaphorical embodiment of a glass factory from a clumsy metaphor.

“Okay! But you have to promise you’re not going to freak out.” Max continued chuckling and wagged a discerning, but silly, finger at her.

“Okay, but why would I freak out?” Jonesy’s chummy chuckles were trickling away to nothing.

“Oh, you’re definitely going to freak out, but I need you to at least consider not freaking out.”

“Well, you’re freaking me out right now!”

“Stop freaking out!”

“I’m freaking out, dude!” Jonesy threw her hands in the air.

“Maybe, if you’re already freaked out, you’ll just ride that wave into what I have to tell you and maybe you won’t freak out so much?” Max considered aloud.

“You can’t be pre-freak out, I’m not an oven!” Jonesy paced and grabbed him by the lapels of his jacket.

Max raised a finger in supposition, “I think you can, and I think you’re pre-freaked enough. So, here goes.”

He stepped back, wresting himself from Jonesy’s grip.

Max inhaled and scrunched his face, bracing himself for impact, “I-made-out-with-your- sister-and-it-was awesome-and-I’d-like-to-do-it-again-sometime.” He blurted out as fast as he could, as if it was one long word. 

He slowly opened his left eye to look at Jonesy. Saying it all out loud, the realization of just how hard he had fucked up began to wash over him. It was at this moment it became all too obvious how much he was deluding himself and trying to convince himself that this wasn’t as big a deal as we all knew it would be.

Jonesy’s mouth was agape. The fuse had been lit, but it had not reached the dynamite yet.

Max unclenched, a big ol’ satisfied grin on his face, “That wasn’t so bad! I don’t know why I was so scared to tell you!” Apparently the self-awareness had been fleeting. Max was proud of himself, his arms akimbo. He looked at Louie, his eyes were visible and wide. Max began to feel less proud. Fear crept in.

“YOU??? WHAT?!?” The dynamite had exploded.

Max and Louie jumped back. Louie crossed his sticks into a makeshift cross for protection.

“Well…” Max offered, meekly.

“GINA?!?! Of all people?!? WHEN?! WHY?!?” Jonesy was untethered and her rage knew no bounds.

“Well…” Max couldn’t find anything else to offer her.

Louie opened his mouth and took a step towards Jonesy. Jonesy turned her head and stared at him with the burning rage of a thousand suns. If it had been possible, Louie’s face would’ve melted off, only a blistering sloppy, convulsing corpse would have remained. 

“Oh, wow, is that a brick wall, no way!!” Louie quickly turned around and put his face nearly against the wall of Dreamland Theatre.

Jonesy stomped around, pacing in a circle. Her thoughts were on fire, churning and roiling like magma in an active volcano. The other people in line eyed her both cautiously and with anticipative glee. 

“When?! When did this even happen?!” Jonesy asked again.

“Back at Snap-Mart,” Max avoided eye contact, “In the alley-”

“The alley?!?”

“You left and then we just kinda…clicked.” He enmeshed his fingers together.

“She’s the absolute worst, Max!! How could you?!” Jonesy’s whole face was flush, “Don’t you remember the time she put laxatives in my chocolate milk and I shit myself at the Boston Aquarium??”

“Yeah, that wasn’t -” Max tried.

“Or that time she tried to sell you to science!!” She cut off whatever dumbass thing he was about to say. She took off her hat and whacked him with it.

Max tried blocking the whacks, “To be fair! I met a lot of really cool people at that lab -”

She ignored him, “Or the time she said I was a malnourished bigfoot baby my family had found abandoned in the woods!” She put her hat back on and walked away from him.

“Oh come on, that was in, like, 5th grade!”

Jonesy turned and charged back towards him, “People were still calling me ‘Lil’ Squatch’ems’ when we were freshmen! It was in the yearbook!” She shoved Max.

“I know! Dude, I’m sorry!”

“Oh, he’s sorry!” She turned to the stranger in line in front of them, who had been trying to watch the whole scene out of the corner of his eye.

Max turned to the random guy and tried to explain, “It just, like, kinda happened!” Turning back to Jonesy, “It happened so fast, I was confused!”

Jonesy was in a full body clench. Her arms straight at her sides, her hands balled into fists. She bit her lip as she tapped her foot against the pavement.

“You’re a slut!” She blurted out.

“No, I’m not!” Max thought that was just factually incorrect, unfortunately.

“No, you’re not! But I’m gonna kick your ass now! I’m gonna fight you!”

“No you’re not.” Max smiled gently.

“No, I’m not! But you know what? I’m out.” Jonesy swiped her hands over each other in Max’s direction. “I can’t even deal with you right now!!”

“What do you mean ‘you’re out?’ Jonesy, come on, it’s opening day, dude.”

Jonesy came on the attack again, “Is she your girlfriend now or something?? Are you girlfriend and boyfriend??” She spit out the words “girlfriend” and “boyfriend” like venom.

“No!!” Max blushed, “Like, I don’t think so…”

“You…suck, Max,” Hot tears began to form in her eyes, “Gina sucks. You can suck each other. Enjoy sucking together. I hope you get married and it sucks, just as much as you two suck!”

“Jonesy…” Max didn’t know what to say to make any of it better.

She began to walk away, but found the only weapon in her arsenal that could truly hurt Max the way he had hurt her. She turned around and roughly wiped the tears from her eyes with the back of her fists.

“Jamie fuckin’ Reynolds invited me to a party!”

Max felt like he just got hit by a Mack truck, “Fwhat?! EXsqueeze me??”

“SHYEAH!” Jamie jabbed a finger at Max’s face.

“And you’re just telling me this now??”

“I wasn’t going to go,” She kinda lied, “Because it’s opening day! But now??”

“When did this even happen? Where was I??”

Jonesy’s rage was white hot. She made her voice calm and contemplative, “Oh, gee. Let me think about that…you know, I think it might have happened…when you were in an AaLLeYyY…FUCKING my SISTER!!!” She shouted at the top of her lungs in Max’s face.

Every person standing on the line outside of the Dreamland Theatre turned to gawk at the two of them.

“What the FUCK are you looking at??” Jonesy roared at the crowd.

Everyone turned away, suddenly finding all kinds of interesting things to look at and talk about.

“Jonesy, I’m sorry, dude.” Max tried one last time.

“No.” She cut him off, “I’m going. I’m gonna go see Jamie Reynolds. And it’s going to be the best night of my life. Not this dumb ass movie.”

Max was wounded, he stumbled backwards, his head spinning. She began to walk away, but suddenly stopped and turned to face him one last time.

“You know what else?” She lined up the shot, “You weren’t invited. Just me. Without you.”

Critical hit. Max clutched his chest and fell to his knees. Louie caught him and fanned him frantically with his hat. 

“I’m gonna pick out a cute outfit without any of your input!” Jonesy called out as she left the two boys behind her.

“NnnooooOOOOOOO!” Max reached out a hand after her in desperate despair.

[muu-kun]

‘Shipping and Handling’ //PChan

Send me ‘Shipping and Handling’ for romance advice regarding my muse(s)! / Accepting / @nvrcmplt

do not mind me slithering my way in here to place pchan into a bag comparable to the one used by Santa Claus, so i may carry him into my hoard.

just keep getting bigger

No, I'm only kidding lmao. While of course Muu will always think of the alien's OG form, he has far from lacked enjoyment in adjusting himself to their additional appearances to be had thereafter. At most, he might be a bitter scorned that he keeps surpassing him more and more in size, since he recalled making it very clear that he is supposed to be the hero for the extraterrestrial. How is he supposed to be such when he's so big? What threats could there be out there? Other giants?? A bit outside of his skill set, but he'll suppose he'll still give it all he's got nonetheless.

That is where I get into my first recommendation for the big guy though. To essentially utilize the gains. That no matter how persistent this shrimp is with his no, I'm the top, I'm the boss, that makes you the baby, etc, to go against those statements even in the slightest will have him bend or melt emotionally far more so than compliancy will run him. He likes being small. Hell, he WANTS to be such, so really, PChan, all you have to do is take the reigns 1 singular time, including my even just only picking his ass up out of the blue, and you'd be surprised to find what can come out of him registering in his mind: i can be the baby with this one.

You have to have the resiliency for some difficult conversations, by sweet buddy baby. Which frankly, once they are out of the way, is the only time he anticipates and almost aches for his potential partners to manifest such a trait. After everything to transpire for him over the years, he is of the mindset that he'll be damned if he ever exhausts resiliency in methods outside of patience, empathy, and high tolerance to the woes of others just as he hopes for them to be for his own. I am in no way joking or passively withholding the truth when I say that should someone dedicate say a day to talking and listening to the other person's "big box" as he refers to the collective trauma a person holds, there are immediate benefits to the freeing of information. One being that he's somewhat of a one and done in a way. With it out into the universe, he's less inclined to bring that information back into conversation since he's already gotten exactly what he wanted out of saying it in the first place: visibility and believability. They've lost relevancy by being met with both those things, so instead he's much more apt to express honesty and vulnerability in day to day problems. He asks for help and confides. He's more human, if you will. The other benefit is that once you do this one major, major thing for him, the only problem to present itself afterwards is the realization you won't be getting rid of him. All you got to do is satiate those inner demons, and he'll be yours.

ALTERNATIVELY, finding some other way to appease the core of Muu by speaking to a wound directly also yields much success. Doing it does take a lot of honing on what he is jabbering on about to pick up on what could really be bothering him, so I can't help but suggest either a) being persistent in making the little bugger give you even just some insight into the many big feelings circling around in the big head of his, and communicate it back as if speaking to a younger life form. Which, by the way, I think PChan could have the most success rate as he has a skillset other muses lack: their mutual abilities in appearing as adult men, but not necessarily taking up those spaces for their lesser humanities and unique cognition. That is where I would go with my empathy if I was the alien, because the root of anything I can suggest is that once you solidify in Muu's mind that he is not as alone as he imagines he is, it alters the experiences with him completely. Or b) you just write down a lot of his random statements onto a piece of paper, put them onto a board, and throw darts to see which one you take a guess at that time. Your pick, my man.

[theherosreturn]

Bradley, noticing something: Wait…did they…leave bombs?

(Indeed, in the rubble…many, many improvised but powerful bombs were scattered, far too many to safely disarm them all…it was clear that whatever the plan was, this was the final step…complete destruction of everything left. Thus, the heroes went into crisis mode getting literally everyone they could out of there (with Maki, Kaito, and Gonta meetup up with Miu in the process, and all that entailed), with everything they had on hand utilized, and everyone who could be saved (which was still less than they’d hoped) being evacuated (even picking up an unconscious Marcy, Yunnan, and Olivia in the process). They didn’t even notice Andrias limping along as well until well after everyone they could save was evacuated as far away as possible, with Andrias not bothering to hide himself due to his injuries and the situation…and muttering something about the Grey Horde never letting him back with them after this. With the scavengers, Xero was content, as his plan had, indeed worked well, even if the heroes intervened earlier than he anticipated. That didn’t matter, for his main goals with the plan were complete)

*The Explosives had all went off and Newtopia...was no more...All that remained was just a crater where the kingdom stood...Xero had won...*

Uzi: I didn't think an army of insane bandits were actually capable of planning all of..."This"...Xero's a lot more cunning than we thought...Don't think we didn't forget about you Andriaus. (Andriaus, while covering one of the bigger wounds: I highly...doubt...you would...I'm pretty sure I'm fired anyways...)

*Sasha, Anne, along with the rest of the rebellion had not only heard the explosion but practically felt it from miles away as well...They needed to see what was up...*

(Meanwhile with ???)

*Crackpot and Sammy had arrived through an ink portal before the bombs had went off and grabbed the broken helmet before it was destroyed entirely by the boom and escaped shortly afterwards*

Crackpot, while holding the helmet in front of himself: Your story may be over but a new chapter in our master's story shall be made with your power soon~...

[townofcadence]

[ TO THE RECEIVER ]: " hey… what's going on? what's wrong? i… has this person said something to you? " // For Arthur from Vanni cuz I love these two friendship okay hakfl

Heroic Intervention

It was almost absurd, how rapid a day could switch from pleasant to devastating.

It could happen in the most unexpected places too, like during a small book faire at the local library. He had been perusing the tables, both to support such an important building to his community, and to find some used books both for him, and potentially for Caelan to consume as well. It had been a good day; there was a certain joy in buying books, in knowing he held something with knowledge and information he might not yet have discovered from other sources. And with most everything being sold being what the library needed to get rid of, it was all used, and definitely affordable.

And then she'd hailed him.

It wasn't....really a bad conversation, initially. She was a girl he'd known in high-school; Peyton, one of the girls from the cliques that really cared about their self-image. He remembered her well enough to recognize her, since she was the one who coerced Elias into going on a few dates. He had said yes, but she was the kind to lay on the pressure until you did, and he had always been too much of a people-pleaser to let anyone down. Thankfully someone else had come along that she deemed more her type, and those few dates had ended without further issues.

He felt awkward from the get go, but mainly the conversation had revolved around her being here to visit her family and deciding to stop in at the faire, and asking how things had been since she left town. It was small talk between past peers: most of it he was wondering what made her want to talk to him as he answered some of her questions and tried to politely offer some to her as well. She had left town for a bigger city and had a husband there. She had a podcast she ran with a friend. He nodded along.

Honestly, he just wanted to look at books instead of being here.

And then, he figured out why she approached him; she asked about Elias, as 'you two were so close'. It made sense, then, why she'd even talk to him. He could feel her anticipation. The left turn was a sour pit in his stomach.

Said pit widened itself to a chasm the more questions she asked. Especially as she started needling about how Elias had disappeared, without a trace. She brought up rumors she'd heard, anything from him running away to elope with his girlfriend, to he had joined some government agency, to he was in witness protection. He sat with the truth tight around his neck, constricting just a little tighter each theory she posited.

The final blow was a slap to the face, the chasm's cliffs giving way to just a gaping hole. Her eyes had cast on him and her head had tilted in this perfectly innocent expression. "I also heard you did it. Some friends of mine said you three had a falling out right before, right? They weren't talking to you at all and you looked so miserable. A lot of people say it's your fault. You drove them away or murdered them or something. Lots of places to hide bodies out here. And oh, you know how true-crime girls can get when they think they've figured out something juicy like that. But it is awfully suspicious how they vanished right after things changed with you. You had to be angry, right? How angry were you? Do you have anything to do with what happened? How did you react when they disappeared? I mean you did have that one murder news story tied to you, didn't you? The one with that one guy from high-school? So it's awfully suspicious, don't you think? Do you know something?"

Her tone wasn't fully accusatory, but her gaze was scrutinizing, as if looking for any tell, any sign he was guilty. He could see her phone in her hand, but it only registered like a hazy periphery. Too many feelings threaded their way through him, the blood draining from his face. It was a barely healed wound even after years, and her perfectly manicured nails had managed to dig into the skin and make it bleed again. Both of them. His throat was dry no matter how much he swallowed. His hands came up together, right hand clutching his left wrist in a curled position, over his chest. "I--- I--"

"So you do know." She'd advanced closer, taking away that semblance of protective distance. He was thrown off too much to push back for himself, drowning in a slew of old feelings. She looked like she smelled blood, maybe for her fucking podcast or something. Her phone came up higher. "The truth will come out either way, so if you tell me, then I can help your story sound a lot more sympathetic, I know you had something to--."

Vanni's cut-in felt like a fucking blessing. He forgot he worked here, but he must've spotted them. She stopped, startled by the interjection, and it was enough for him to manage a ragged breath.

"Vanni-- I--- it's okay." He tried to sound normal, but his voice was splintering and wooden. "I'm-- you don't have to worry." He wished he was anywhere but here, wished he could do something other than worry his friend, and talk to someone who wanted to--- probably boil one of the worst moments of his life down into a #tragedy on tiktok for views. Or worse, given the line of her self-appointed sleuthing.

"We were just having a conversation." She adds, and it's like jagged glass in his brain. His hand finds it's way to his hair to tug on a few strands, to ground himself and he averts his eyes. "I'm not doing anything to him."

[scorchieart]

Hi there! I'm just a nobody who reblogs a lot especially ikerev and ikepri stuffs, haha! And this is my first time requesting (under ikepri topic).

Now if it's okay, please do this random thought I have in mind where the princes (all 8 of them and Sariel) see their first newborn nephew(s)/niece(s) and what's their reaction.

Take your time and stay safe!

Thank you in advance 💕

Hi there! You're definitely not just a nobody, friend! ❤️ Thank you very much for your request, it's so dopey sweet!

All of them is a bit much in one go (plus I'm not even sure Sariel has any siblings to begin with. Let's be honest, he'd be more like a grandpa to the princes' children), so let's go with the odd princes for now. Maybe I'll make a part 2 in the future!

Edit: Whoop! Here's that Part 2 with the even-stevens!

Jin, Clavis, Yves & Nokto Meeting Their Newborn Niece/Nephew

I didn't know who to make the father, so feel free to insert your preferred suitor(s) in these happy little scenarios. And do tell me who you imagined for them, I'd love to hear ^^

Jin Grandet

Jin couldn't hide the giddy grin that splashed his features all week, though if we're being honest he wasn't trying to.

And how couldn't he? His little brother, soon-to-be-father, finally found happiness with another, and from that happiness sprouted a new life full of love and joy. Jin didn't think he could be happier even if he were in his brother's place.

When the day finally arrives, it takes all his willpower to keep from bursting into the delivery room. The first moments should be reserved for those three, of course, and Jin wanted the new family to start out as perfectly as they deserved. To pass the time (and occupy his thoughts) he busies himself with the paperwork he took over for his brother.

Before the sixth candlestick completely burned out, his brother swipes the document Jin was reviewing out of his grasp and smirks. "I can't tell which of us has bigger bags under his eyes," he jokes.

Jin laughs along and lets his brother take the lead. Even though there was still an hour before dawn, the halls bustle with servants and nobles zipping to and fro in lively excitement. But the two brothers manage to weave their way through the crowd with relative ease, pausing now and then only to pick up more of their brothers along the way.

The eight royals huddle outside the delivery room with heightened anticipation. The new father thanks them all for attending and apologizes for keeping them up so late for the occasion before turning to Jin.

"We decided, as the oldest, you should be the one to meet him first," he says. Jin looks at his other brothers worriedly, but upon seeing their consenting smiles and nods accepts and enters the room.

The new mother smiles softly and dips her head lightly at his entrance. When Jin reaches the edge of the bed, she extends the bundle in her arms towards him and he picks it up carefully, cradling her precious little newborn.

And what a little newborn he was! Perched in the crook of his elbow, the boy was no bigger than his forearm. With a tiny nose and wispy hair like his father, the baby melts Jin's heart as effectively as the embers on those candlesticks.

"Look familiar?" his brother asks, and Jin answers by pulling him into a hug with his free arm.

Clavis Lelouch

Clavis mulls by the door, pacing back and forth until he's sure he's left a mini trough in the marble tiles. How utterly inconceivable, how could they not invite him the moment the baby was born!

His brother sure is lucky he's already used up all his banana peels and flour bags that morning. All Clavis had left on hand were the wind-up rats filled with rattling beans and the air horn in his pocket, but even he knows loud noises aren't appropriate at the moment.

At last the door opens a crack and his brother pokes his head out with a dubious gaze. Clavis halts his steps and grins back.

"You washed your hands?" his brother asks.

"Twice! And with plenty of soap," Clavis says.

"No pranks?"

"You wound me, brother dear. Uncle Clavis has no need for such pointless flippancies anymore."

"You promise you'll be on your best behavior?"

"I wouldn't have stayed quiet this long if I wasn't."

"Then keep quiet. Ten minutes. She needs to be put to bed after." His brother pushes the door further and Clavis slips in. The room is dark save for the sliver of dawn peeking in through the curtains, but it pales in comparison to the light burgeoning from the bed.

Clavis silently approaches with the skill of a lifetime of sneaking and snooping, only this time the smile he wears is devoid of any semblance of mischief. He folds his arms under his new niece and cradles her like a freshly ground sack of flour, only not quite as weighty.

He can feel his brother's hardened gaze on his back as he gently sways in place, but after waiting outside the door all night nothing could dampen his mood now. He dips his head to the yawning infant and plants a soft kiss on her chubby peach cheeks.

"Such amusing havoc we shall wreak together, you and I," he whispers.

The baby reaches her tiny hand out and clutches the lump in Clavis's breast pocket, setting off the screaming air horn and making her father and uncle scream even louder.

Yves Kloss

So much to do and so little time! He still needs to mix the jam for the cake filling, frost the pink mini cupcakes, set the blueberry pie out to cool, dust powdered sugar over the scones... and not to mention plate everything!

How his brother thought he'd manage to complete it all from the moment his wife went into labor, he'd never know.

Alright that was a lie. Yves holed himself up in the kitchen the second he heard the servants running through the halls screaming "The baby's coming!" His brother was none the wiser, but then again there definitely wasn't much else on his mind at the moment. The least Yves could do was make sure the new mother and father would have something warm and full of love to eat when the hard part was over.

But that still doesn't absolve them from making him want to dote on them so much! Honestly, the next time he sees those two he's going to give them a right good—

"Prince Yves?" a servant calls. Yves jumps, a plentiful helping of powdered sugar settling over him like fresh snow as he turns to face him. "Your brother is calling for you."

Yves drops the sift and nearly trips over the sugar bag as he races out the kitchen door. Maids and butlers part his path as he barrels down the halls and up the stairs to the delivery room, vision shaky and breath catchy.

At last he reaches the door. His palms are sweaty as he reaches for the knob and pushes, but soon it's his eyes that moisten when he sees his brother and his lovely wife beaming from inside.

Yves loses all feeling in his legs, so his brother holds his hand, walks him to the bed, and transfers the snoozing bundle from his wife's arms to his shaking brother. "Relax, it's only your nephew," he reassures.

Yves inhales deeply and forces his arms to stop trembling. What a disgrace, he thought to himself, tumbling like a leaf in front of an infant. Where was all that dexterity and control he had back in the kitchen?

But the moment he sets his eyes on the baby the jitters return, but this time out of immense joy. The boy looks so delicate and frail, with skin so warm and cheeks so fluffy Yves can't help but compare him to the most delectable of pastries fresh from the oven.

The baby opens his bright eyes and extends his arm towards Yves's dangling earring.

"Silly one, that isn't for you," Yves laughs, tilting the earring out of reach. He's finally found his voice and feels confidence coursing through his veins. "But perhaps in the future, we can discover your own style together. How does that sound?"

A dusting of powdered sugar trickles down on the baby as Yves moves his head. He sneezes directly into Yves's face.

Nokto Klein

His brother is the first to greet him when he steps off the carriage. Nokto worries something terrible happened with the way his brother came to collect him, but the soft smile on his face puts those fears to rest as quickly as they had come.

"A daughter?" Nokto exclaims. His days traveling the continent the past 5 months were filled with so little rest that Nokto barely had a chance to digest letters from back home, but even a declaration of war couldn't stop him from remembering he'd become an uncle.

"A surprise. For your homecoming," his brother says. "Well, it was her idea."

Suddenly, Nokto forgets his exhaustion as his brother leads him through the gates and up to his room. The cries that flood from the door grab whatever remains of his fatigue and catapults it.

It looks like all that sleepiness landed on the mother, because the moment the door opens Nokto sees her tiredly rocking her child surrounded by a legion of maids all looking seconds from collapsing. His brother crosses to his wife, plants a chaste kiss on her head, then lifts their wailing daughter from her arms.

"Sorry, I thought she'd still be asleep. I'll bring them back later, so for now get some rest," he says sweetly.

"'Them'?" Nokto asks, still rooted in the doorway.

"You'll want to properly congratulate my wife, won't you?" he replies, exiting the room patting the screaming child. By the time the baby ceases her tears, they are out in the garden sitting on the settee underneath the newly blossomed cherry tree.

"You have questions?" his brother asks, tickling his daughter's chin. She giggles and stares up at her still shell-shocked uncle.

"Namely how you managed to keep this secret," Nokto says.

"She was barely showing by the time you left. We knew your journey wouldn't be an easy one, and we wanted to respect the dedication that went in your decision and hold off until your return."

Nokto lets out a small laugh to hide his reddening cheeks. "You know it's thanks to go-getters like me that you're even able to settle down like this."

"I know," his brother says, smiling again. "Would you like to hold her?"

Nokto nods, and the moment the baby slips into his arms he feels the exhaustion drown him again. Her perfect little features, so tiny and benign, remind him of the simplicity of childhood that's since escaped his thoughts years ago. As he watches her yawn and close her bright eyes, he wonders how he'll manage to talk his way out of having leave on another business trip in the future.

Tagging: @atelieredux @queengiuliettafirstlady @violettduchess

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