#yknow he like never has used caps like this before i think

[keithkog]

GARRISON IF YOU’RE READING THIS I DISLIKE YOU TAKING ADVANTAGE OF LANCE’S KINDNESS AND HAVING HIM DEAL WITH OVER 30 CADETS FOR MULTIPLE HOURS AT A TIME. THAT’S IMPOSSIBLE. GET HELP.

-Keith

[sheepispink]

Hurt

super soldier!reader x lt ghost (and technically tf141 too)

cw: angst, gunshot wound, mention of needle pricks and piercing the skin

Part one Series Masterlist

a/n: phew this was a long chapter and i sped run the last two thousand words.. again. hope you all enjoy 💓

PREV NEXT

——————————

Ghost was enjoying the game; he always did. All he had to do was turn his thoughts off and stare at the screen and cheer with the others when his team finally kicked the stupid ball into the goal. That’s what it was supposed to be, so was his head still running? He couldn't shake it off, the unnerving familiarity that he couldn't quite place, all because of that damn soldier who looked at him with widened eyes. He had just brushed it off and carried the food and drinks back to the room with the few other operators who gathered.

“Soap! Damnit, how did you..” Gaz groans, although it was actually both of their faults that the drink had splashed onto them in the first place. Soap only scoffs, nudging him with his elbow as the soda starts to drip onto the floor too.

“Oi, ye know damn well yer the one who grabbed me.”

The two huff as they have to get up and head down to the bathroom just a little way down the corridor, washing their hands and wiping down their shirts from the splash.

“Hm? Wha’ ye lookin at?”

“Ghost’s rookie, or whatever. The super soldier– why’s the room door open?”

The pair give each other puzzled yet concerned looks, opting to go inform Ghost rather than try and investigate themselves. In Johnny’s opinion, he did not want to end up on the bad end of that kid–especially from the stories he’s heard–and Gaz couldn't disagree.

“The room door’s open?” As always, Price immediately fills with concern when the two report the news, thinking over the possibilities. You weren’t the type to be reckless like that; though if you were in a rush, it may have been possible. Still, it wouldn't be without a good reason and he couldn’t find a singular one for why you may have done that. Today’s just a regular day, that’s all.

“Ghost said the kid was celebrating their birthday. Maybe they went with whoever came to go out for a bit?” Soap offers, shrugging as he sticks another cheesy nacho inside his mouth. “What’s wrong Cap’?”

Price has gone deadly still, concern spreading across his features along with something akin to guilt. He was supposed to use the budget allocated for you to buy you what you wanted, to give you even an ounce of what you actually deserved, and he had completely forgotten despite the reminder now stuck on his lockscreen. Of course, he did warn you that he was a busy man and may not be able to make it, but dammit he was sitting here watching a football match. “That soldier.. I was supposed to be there, bringing all their party stuff. Yknow, snacks, cake..”

“They’ll understand, Price; probably don't even mind all that much.” Gaz offers, trying to console the obvious guilt seeping from the Captain’s tone. “They’ll just hang with their fellow soldiers. Y'know how the rookies like to mess around.”

“It’s not like that, Garrick.” His expression grows heavier, his hand rubbing the bridge of his nose almost the same way when a mission begins to run off track. “No one speaks to them apart from Ghost and me. They’re on their own.”

——

Ghost pushes the room door open, slightly confused on why Price has ordered him to go check, but he supposes having something go wrong with someone as strong as you was a reason for concern. Though, he really is convinced that it likely isn't a big deal in the slightest; maybe you, and whatever rookies idolised you, had decided to celebrate in the grounds–who bloody knows. He’s a bit surprised by how neat your room is, considering he’s never been in here before, but he had at least thought there’d be some snacks out or something for your supposed guests. He did find it a little weird if he was being honest, how you invited him to your birthday party. You were a young soldier and rookies loved to mess around; surely they’d come join in on the fun or at least take the opportunity to watch a good movie. And him? He was a gruff lieutenant who only wanted to push you to your limits. His hand brushes over the paper thin sheets, curious as to why they’re just as rough as the infirmary beds, not to mention the countless pill bottles on the nightstand. You may be trained by him, but he didn’t bother to look further than what the file typically specified.

His eyes catch on the wardrobe, spotting the uniform that you were wearing this morning hung up already. That was weird, and now that he looked at the contents better, your hiking boots and jacket were gone, only your combat trousers left behind. Just when he was about to check where you kept your knives, his eyes caught on the colourful wrapping of a present, instantly turning his head towards your dresser.

A box lies there, the lid half off. So you did receive a present, huh? He checks for a sender but no indication is left on the box–maybe they didn't bother since they gave it to you on purpose. Out of curiosity, he decides to peek inside, his stomach feeling strangely sick when he sees the gun laid inside the box. He was right to some degree then, that you were abnormal in the way you think, but was he ever so sane? He’s about to head back when he notices the paper beneath, folded over, and picks it up. His heart felt like it broke through his ribs when he read the first line, but the second? He was running back to the others, the box gripped tightly in his hand.

“Gaz, go check the cameras now; try to figure out where they headed.” Price’s voice is loud and authoritative, wasting no time in getting to the root of this matter, especially after seeing that note. Meanwhile, he’s got Laswell on dial, waiting for her to pick up. “John? What’s wrong?”

“Kate, I need the tracker on that super soldier now.”

———————

Ghost had wasted no time, Johnny in tow as they both headed towards the mess hall. It was on the second week you came; you had been late for training. When you eventually arrived, your clothes were wet, having just doused yourself in the shower. But what he did not forget was the remnants of crappy mess hall food stuck in your hair and the ridges of your boots, the sight not particularly one you donned often. Though what should’ve raised alarm bells in his head was passed off as nothing, and even when you attempted to explain, he cut you off, already demanding you to start with no warmups.

His boots thump heavily against the floor, purpose and vengeance written into every step as he searches for your pursuers. If that situation wasn’t enough of a clue, he was damn sure that the chef would’ve seen something that could relate to the matter. “You.” His voice is sharp, instantly catching the man behind the counter, who doesn't waste a second in giving him his full attention; it was almost as if he knew something. Of course he did; everyone knew that wherever Ghost went on a mission, you followed behind, and so vice versa. “Don’t waste my time now. You saw a soldier get food dumped on them. Who did it?”

“Sir..I dont know; there’s always arguments in here-“

Ghost’s hand slams down onto the counter, not oblivious to the flicker of fear in the man’s eyes, like someone who knew they were in the wrong. He wasn’t stupid; the lies were seeping through every stammer in his sentences. “I said, do not waste my time.”

“I-it was three male soldiers–” The chef spills all the information out to him, including their name and the troops they belonged to. Those soldiers would be lucky if they even saw his mask before they felt the blow.

“Lt! Laswell tracked them; they’re in the training cabins up the hills. Capt and Garrick are waiting by the front.” Soap rushes over and Ghost firmly nods, following quickly after him as he leads him outside the building with the others. Price mans the wheel as they drive through the forestry, bumping over branches occasionally; it’s dark out so eventually they have to climb out and walk the rest of the way, torches in hand. They’re drawing closer now, the tracker in Gaz’s hand beeping relentlessly. “Almost there-”

A loud bang echoes across the grounds, startling crows as they scream and caw all around. The four SAS look at eachother with widened eyes before running towards the cabin that is faintly in view. Three soldiers stand outside trembling at the sight of John Price himself and the man with the skull mask, a duo no one ever wants to cross, approaching them, rapidly.

—------------------------

You can hear murmurs outside, or perhaps it’s yells; you can't really tell after the gunshot. Ringing echoes in your head, bouncing off every corner of your skull and repetitively attacking your brain. Every sound has been slowed and muffled as your brain tries to catch up to speed with what's happening, except you’re not the average person, and your brain catches up too fast, too soon, making every feeling crash into you. Soft fur is held between your fingers, clutched desperately as a sickening smell fills your senses. You realise the yells are from yourself, twisting into screams as you clutch the furry creature held tightly against your chest. It’s You’re whimpering pathetically, the bullet that had sounded out from your enemy’s—no, comrade’s?���gun digging deep somewhere. The fox attempts to soothe you, nuzzling its dirty face against your neck, attempting absolutely anything to get you to stop the screams that make your eyes ache and your fingers tremble.

“Kid? Kid!” Two warm hands settle on your shoulders, snapping you back into reality. Men were shouting outside; your throat was dry, and there were no screams apart from the howls of the fox you tightly clutched. Your mouth was open, but no sound echoed, screams playing on repeat in your head like you’d been taught to when they stuck those needles in you. “Someone get a damn medic here now!” A stern voice shouts, but you don't understand until the fox nudges your arm, making a newfound pain sear through you as you look at the blood soaking the fur of the animal. You panic, beginning to squirm only to get soothed by deep brown eyes.

“Y-you—“

The words don't find your mouth, the man staring back at you as he strokes your hair, the blue eyed scot already looking intently at your arm before grabbing what supplies he usually keeps on hand.

“Gaz, Sergeant Garrick, I'm here to help. Stay awake for us now, okay? C’mon, tell me your name, soldier.”

You manage to murmur it out, but your attention is more focused on the way the fox snaps at Gaz’s fingers, stopping him from comforting you. “Kid, you’re gonna have to let go of the fox-“

You shake your head frantically, holding it tighter and it equally follows, staring at Gaz with menacing eyes. “No—It’s hurt! I can't— it got shot!” You exclaim, tears streaming down your face that you didn't know were there before.

“I can help him then, can’t i? I’ll treat him.” Only then do you release your hold, letting Gaz lead the fox away with outstretched hands and a spare piece of food as bait. But you don’t understand. The fox is fine, there’s blood soaking the fur sure, but it’s not in an ounce of pain? So then.. where was the blood coming from? You look down at Soap as he crouches before your arm, and only now do you actually notice the pain stinging your arm, the tremble in your hands and the way your lips hurt from how hard you’ve bitten down. You’re bleeding, badly.

The next half an hour is a blur, between silent sobs that wrack your body, Soap managing to wrap up your arm as best as he possibly can with the gauze he keeps in his attire and Gaz repetitively trying to keep you awake. Still, you’re nowhere near being actually awake, heart thumping behind your eyes as you move in a daze, your super soldier capabilities stopping any sort of pain processing— an emergency response only you survived the experiments to produce. You’ve never been shot at before, contrary to popular belief, but it means that your mind can't keep up with all the emotional surges that come with pain and stressful situations. You’ve barely comprehend that Ghost was outside, too focused on the fact Soap had wrapped you up in his embrace, letting your face rest against his neck whilst he made sure to ease the pressure on your arm. You were still, way too still for someone who had felt every emotion as far as your dulled mind could feel only moments before, breaths so quiet as your eyes glaze over. One hand rests beneath your thighs, keeping you upright whilst the other rubs your back,holding you tight as possible as you try to understand in the slightest what is happening.

————————————-

You wake up in a medical room, or at least you assume it to be by the mostly sterile walls. Drugs contaminate your mind, leaving you in a sleep-induced haze as you blink up at the ceiling. You can only turn your head to the side, noticing the bandages around your arm but there was a strange beeping now, echoing louder and louder. Two nurses enter, each grabbing your wrist and restraining you.

Everything comes back now, the needles the third nurse carries, the blank look in their eyes, the masks they wear over their faces and the scrubs always the same shade of blue. The beeping loudens, your legs kicking wildly as you panic, unable to control the fear.

“Stop- i didn't do anything wrong! I did what I was told!”

You yell, unable to sit there and watch it go in again; you can't bear to watch your own skin be pierced without a single feeling to go alongside it. They draw closer, their eyes gaping holes into nothingness. The intern nurse isn't here to save you, your parents are signing the papers beside your hospital bed and your legs are strapped down, chest so tight you can barely push another breath out until-

Calm, quiet even, a warm hand pats your head. “Hey.. hey..” Your eyes blink open again, Gaz standing before you. It was still late, around 8:30 or 9 pm based on the position of the moon outside the window. It was slightly open, a few bushes outside, and not the best for an easy escape considering it opened inwards. It would’ve been better if—

“Kid?”

You blink up at him again; his hand was steady on your hair and properly rubbing at it now, looking at you with soft eyes. Still, you can't manage a response, only nodding quietly. “You’re safe now, okay?”

Safe. What an odd concept; would you ever really be safe? Have you ever been safe before? The soft beeps of the heart rate monitor pull your view to the side, your bare arms rubbing against the paper-like sheets and making you instantly recoil. Just the mere thought of being on these infirmary beds made you want to throw up, and it didn't help that you could faintly see an old needle in the bin beside the bed, fresh pin pricks on your arms. You were never supposed to have one again.

“Is your heart always like that?” He asks, gesturing to the monitor that you now finally look at, despite it being the first thing that caught your eye. It’s beeping, steadily, in an almost eerie way.

“It hasn't changed once, always a steady beat even when we hadn't bandaged you properly yet.” It makes your gut twist, knowing he sees you as abnormal but you are abnormal so you can't exactly feel that bad about it all.

“Yeah, it is.” You murmur quietly, looking down at the bandage around your arm now, the flimsy outfit that barely covers a thing and the prickly uncomfortable feeling that comes with being so vulnerable. But then again, you’re always vulnerable, it just depends if the person decides to take advantage of it.“I was.. made to be that way. It only goes higher when I'm working out or uh fighting. No other times.”

Gaz blinks at you in a way that makes your throat clog, but his hand is still rubbing your head. Your brain still refuses to comprehend it, afraid he’ll stop if you even think about the matter.

“Kyle. Price wants to talk to ye, i’ll look after ‘em.”

Soap enters the room, as he had introduced himself as in your pained haze a while ago. When was that even? You knew them all anyway— of course you did, who did not know the youngest soldier to join the SAS?

“Aye, you feelin’ any better?” He comes to sit beside your bed as Gaz leaves, a black container held in his hands. You watch as he adjusts the iv drip you hadn’t even noticed before, making sure it’s good on you before sitting back again. “Price wants me to have a little talk with you.” He murmurs, cracking open the lid of the container to reveal steaming food, more specifically the best you’ve ever smelt. It’s no Gordon Ramsay but it’s enough to even make you perk up, the smell of the saucy chicken and the spiced rice—and salad too? It was likely bland anyway, but it sure made your empty stomach rumble.

Regardless, Your mind locks in almost immediately; the food never looks that good, you may aswell take any chance to get a taste. “Why isnt Price here?” You knew better than to question him, but you did anyway, feeling betrayed at the mere thought that he sent his soldier to talk to you rather than himself. Doesn’t he know you’d walk to the ends of the earth to earn his approval?

“Him and Ghost have been.. dealing with your pursuers. Don't worry, they’ll be back.” That eases your head a little bit, but for some strange reason you don't quite believe Ghost would do that at all. Yet still, you were sure to get corrected if you dared to act up and ask again.

“After the medics patched up your wound, they realised you’re well.. malnourished to say the least. You needed an emergency IV drip.” He begins, scooping up a heaped spoon of the food. “We want to know why you haven't been eating— it’s not like there isn't food available.” Your mouth waters at the sight of his spoon; he’s just glad at the fact you look willing to eat rather than forcefully starving yourself. “There’s.. never much food left when i come back..” You start, but he doesn't believe it, staring at you with a raised brow. Even so, he lifts the spoon to your mouth, and you dont argue, chewing it down quickly.

“Aye, y’know ye can just tell the truth righ’ ? If ye do, I'll get ya food like this for the next two weeks. Or perhaps you just prefer hospital food?”

Everyone knows that hospital food is far from appetising, even for you who barely cares about what food goes into your body. But you can’t deny that eating those bland foods brings back memories you absolutely cannot have return right now, because no matter how much they experimented on you, they most definitely couldn’t stop your brain's base function— to remember. Still, it feels strange to speak up now, especially with the way the Scot is staring at you, his eyes a piercing blue and you feel seen, but it’s raw and ugly rather than relief that tingles your nerves.

What good would it even do? It’s not like they’re actually doing something wrong, right? Super soldiers exist to be unbeatable, therefore the notion of them beating or bullying you cannot co-exist with that fact. Unless, you were beatable, unless you did have weaknesses, unless you weren’t actually the prime of human being—

Unless you weren’t a real super soldier.

Soap lets out a sigh, snapping you out of his trance and the disappointed look that's written over his face is enough to resurface every reason relating to why you haven't been eating. Your brain is like a database, and his disappointment is the energy that fuels you to search and retrieve each incident that relates, just like the supersoldier machine they’d made you into. But there’s too many things to say now, and not enough words to convey them. You look up again, realising you’ve been staring at your hands for too long now just to realise he isn't even staring at you in contempt. No, he’s waiting, patiently, and you know this for sure because you can actually read the emotions on his face. With Ghost, everything was a guessing game, pushing your brain so hard to figure out the absolute best way to approach things whilst addressing every emotion you didn't know he was feeling. Sometimes he felt like a super soldier rather than you did.

”Soap?” You say quietly, and he perks up immediately, not expecting you to actually give in it seems, or really talk to him for that matter. “Mhm? Thinking about havin’ some good food?” A small smile slips onto his lips, trying to ease the tension in your body by a smidgen with a teasing tone.

“What if they don’t let me have the food, Soap?.” You admit quietly, repeating his call sign like it strings you back to this reality, keeps you grounded in this scratchy hospital bed. “Whose they?” He asks, his hand reaching out to rest upon your leg, rubbing it over the covers.

“The chefs, the soldiers—I don't know their names. I walk into the mess hall, at the end of lunch, and they tell me that my ‘friends’ have already taken my plate for me.” The words fall out, recounting the daily experience for the past three months, the one you can never change the course of.

“They know that they aren't my friends. They watched as I went to ask them for my plate, and they knew they’d throw it on me.”

Soap’s lips part as he stares back at you, shocked by the audacity of some of these soldiers, but even the chefs? He can understand the first time, they might have actually thought they were, but why continue to give those soldiers your plate if not to torture you?

Hazing was normal in the military, too normal, but it never lasted this long and usually after a superior saw, it got shut down immediately with a firm warning for wasting food and messing around. So why hadn’t Ghost stopped it?

”Why didn't you say anything?!”

Except it came with a slam of the door, the roughness of a voice too familiar, and the heavy boots of a man you feared since you woke. That wasn’t Soap’s words, no. “Lt? I thought you were with Price—“

“Go with Gaz, Johnny.” Your gaze lifts again, the throbbing on your arm almost unbearable or maybe it’s the fear spilling a cold sweat across your body. “You could’ve ruined everything! What the hell are we supposed to tell the superiors, huh? That you almost died over some stupid hazing?!”

Soap glances between you two, taken aback by his Lt’s sharp reaction to the situation, the tone that he’s only used with enemies who have almost brought the country to its knees if not for their task force. It’s not right.

“Lt—“

He doesn't back down, stepping forward to the bed you lay in, walking closer to the point Soap has had to stand up and step back for a moment, confused.

“You better have a damn good reason. All you had to do was speak up once— just say anything! But no; you love to keep your reputation don't you? Is that it? Is that why you never bloody told us?!”

He’s pushed back by an arm across his chest, one that he breaks if not for Soap taking his momentary hesitation to block his path. “Johnny move—“

“Lord, Ghost! Why do you think they don’t want to speak up? Look at their face!”

Ghost’s eyes shift, listening to his sergeant despite the anger that courses through him. Though, when he looks at you he no longer sees the living weapon, the cocky rookie nor the monster the higher ups created. Your eyes are blown wide, just like the soldier that stopped him in his tracks earlier today, and he doesn’t find a hint of anything he used to describe you in your current state or ever to be honest.

No, you’re terrified, looking at him like he’s the monster himself.

—————-

PREV NEXT Series Masterlist

no animals were harmed in the making of this fic

COD MASTERLIST buy me a coffee :)

TAG LIST:

@mellohimmku94 @rafaelacallinybbay @fasoaurore @starfish-sandwich @arael-asuka @pinkpickle @toxicgutz69 @pythonmoth @harmonycricket @sneezypandu @ctrlofurheart @ssc7514 @terrifiedanimegirl @rayrayyio @silas-aeiou @uhhevie @enfppuff @sirbonesly @nobodycanknoww @bitchyzombienacho @justdamnpeachy @harley101399 @w1theredr0se @whoisnthere @lexi2005 @nnsissys @el-salt @ttznlettt @thebumbqueen @thriving-n-jiving @fluffysmiko @vioxsoo

[pumpkinsy0]

please please please give us some hdcs about tim (maybe throw in some tarry)

(maybe even some tally😏)

timothy khalil shepard the things i would do for u,,,,

•literally everything he does is for curly and angela, every single thing, if it wasnt for them, he wouldnt have became a gang leader. hell, he wouldnt have been as known as he is!!! the reason y hes getting his name out there is so ppl know not to mess w his family

•his art style is notttttt simple at all, he has one of those artstyles where it looks rlly pretty, and the longer u stare at it, the more u notice bc he keeps adding more and more things to it. takes him a week to finish it, partially bc he never colors it in

•tim almost never sleeps in an actual bed so his back is genuinely kinda fucked up, he went over to the curtis house hearing sodas rlly good at massages, but only darry was home. they spent the next 30 mins going “ohhhh my back hurts SO bad, i need help here” and massaging each others backs, gayest thing theyve ever been through, darry still thinks about it

•tim used to always give curly and angela his food, tim would literally go days without eating a full meal if it meant that they got to eat. that all ended bc of mrs curtis, he heard the curtis house was just taking mfs in and wandered onto their porch like a stray cat. he still takes some leftovers for angela and curly

•when trying to take car of dally and his injuries, the cocky bastard would never stop being cocky and would say “like what u see😏😏”, only for tim to day “im not looking at much honestly”

•tim tries soooo hard to braid his own hair and look, he CAN but towards the back it gets a lil messed up, so angela helps him braiding it. on the rare occassion, its curly, curlys not bad at it, but he cant sit still long enough to do it in one go so they take way longer🙄

•tim was born in cap haïtien, haiti!!! the family just moved to port au prince right before curly and angela were born. i feel like tims been double homesick, misses being in cap haïtien, very liwkey misses being in haiti, lets allll buy him a one way ticket

•tims fluent in french but doesnt like speaking it, so in school when ppl came up to him they would either try teasing him or talk to him in fucked up french and it annoyed him sooooo badddd, but he let darry get a pass for it, darrys fluent but u can tell he learned it in school and tim thinks its a lil funny (yes dally was one of the ppl who teased him)

•him and angela dont exactly have friends, so sometimes they just hang out w each other. its not exactly COMMON but it happens still, yknow?? maybe he just buys her a milkshake, maybe they just sit and play a stupid card game, they got nothin else to do

•curly sometimes catches tim staring at him, its secretly bc tim wonders what he would look like if his nose wasnt crooked and curlys the closest thing irl he has to seeing that. WOULD HE EVER TELL CURLY??? nope, everytime curly asks tim says “nothing”

•tim will looked into the cracked mirror of their bathroom and just stare at his eyes thinking “god damn these r blue as hell”

[bonesandthebees]

Listen, I literally typed out the all caps normally and I was like “this does not convey my emotions well enough because I’ve been doing this after a lot of glass chapters and this is worse” so giant text and caps it is. But I am genuinely bouncing with excitement. More random thoughts while I’m here:

Tomys is fine after falling and it’s heavily implied that he bumped into Wilbur right before the edge which broke his fall.

When these boys get found, they are going to be covered in dried blood and it’s going to look so much worse than it is because it’s not theirs.

Someone is going to be very upset after this contract.

I’m already trying to calculate the odds of you giving Wilbur a permanent limp after this.

When the guards started dropping I was like “Right Bee has been reading Game of Thrones” I have never read game of thrones, but it feels like it would be writing like that, I go whiplash, in a good way.

Also, trying to have the competition killed feels like a very ruthless idea. Seems more in Niki’s style given the war room, but Q is the one to warn Wilbur and the one who heard about the fact that he was going from someone else (aka Schlatt, which is why I think he’s behind this, maybe he’s just as ruthless as Niki), but it does feel like something that was either done behind Q’s back or something that was decided before they knew Wilbur would be there.

There’s also something to be said about Niki’s ruthlessness vs. This particular idea vs. How she was acting off around Wilbur but all of this is speculation and I will get to that when I actually analyse with lines.

What else… oh yeah, the foreshadowing! Or more like Wilbur using his dagger to cut the pears! I saw and I was like, she’s letting us know he has a dagger, we need this info for later when he needs it. It had me stressed. At least he didn’t have to stab anyone.

Oh and both these boys are traumatised now are they.

-🌲

while that carriage tumble was pretty chaotic and both wilbur and tommy were flying everywhere, tommy did fall into wilbur at one point and it probably is part of what broke his fall

literally just half their bodies are covered in that carriage driver's blood rn

...yknow if he had access to a doctor this is technically a medieval era so uh, healing that broken leg is gonna be ROUGH

I'll say my writing style isn't very similar to George RR Martins but having read GoT definitely has helped with the action sequences a bit (I'd say my writing style for rose so far has been most influenced by The Priory of the Orange Tree though and also She Who Became the Sun)

hm... so many possible suspects when it comes to who hired the bandits...

LOL I love that you picked up on that. I was like shit I need to mention wilbur has a dagger at some point how do I do that. oh yeah they're eating fruit-

oh theres gonna be so much trauma from this incident

[phatcatphergus]

okay honestly if i had to guess. I think tubbo will take off longer than literally just a day and I do think it’ll be several weeks if not a month or even longer before he streams on main but I do think he’ll do an alt stream within a week of the subbathon ending. bc as much as this subbathon has become a part of our lives and routines bc it’s been actual months it’s a part of his too and I think once the novelty of oh my god I have my life back goes away I genuinely do think he’ll miss streaming like I could totally see him doing a DJ alt stream for instance cause that isn’t as fun to do on your own without chat spamming emotes yknow. And I’m sure he’ll still be playing games with friends and some of those friends will be live sometime. I don’t think he could disappear from the internet for longer than like a week tops even if he wanted to cause his lives and routines and hobbies are so intertwined with streaming that genuinely an long break might make him feel worse not better. And cause like if he’s feeling pressure or whatever his alt chat is Very well cultivated at this point it’s 1k very chill people yknow. Sorry if this was a little parasocial it’s just me theorizing and just from the perspective of stopping anything cold turkey, whether stopping is a good thing or a bad thing, never works and all like we’ll miss him and I think he’ll miss us too

Honestly that’s my thoughts as well. He might go a bit longer if piso is there but that depends ENTIRELY on when the subathon ends. If it ends at the 90 day cap then he will only have a couple week before a sad last stream where he’s “bored without piso” but I think if it ends before that cap then piso Can keep him occupied enough to not stream.

I think we have to realize that Tubbo spent the majority of his formative years in developing individuality and independence live streaming to hundreds of thousands of people. He also used it as a form of escapism from the stress of streaming and the problems that come from it. Streaming is literally part of his mentality at this point and I think it’s too ingrained in his psyche for him to leave long term. He has to pretend that there’s a camera on him constantly or he gets paranoid that people are watching him. He looks in the mirror and sees a stream preview. The time he spends on the alt is related to his mental health (his words!).

He has a lot of great plans and aspirations, and I think he wants to be able to go a while without feeling the pressure to stream, but I don’t think he actually can. His life revolves around it and he quite literally depends on it in more ways then one.

[galaxythreads]

Idk if you're still doing the lore thing, but if you are: The Blood Of My Enemy Stains My Hands Now?

I am ALWAYS still doing lore for fics. Sorry this took like two weeks to answer, anon.

LORE FOR THE BLOOD OF MY ENEMY STAINS MY HANDS NOW <-- link to story

this was written as a request for Tamuril2, who asked for something with Loki and Fury after I wrote My Kids Will Call Me Fury , where Fury collected the Avengers as his kids. They wanted something with Loki and Fury specifically, so when I added the additional scene at the end of MKWCMF, I also decided to just...write this.

I didn't have a plan. I didn't even really have an end goal in mind.

I remember starting to write it and just being like "yknow what, fine" and just letting it go wherever. I wrote the entire thing in like seven hours. I am a meticulous planner for multi-chapters. For one-shots I kinda just let the story take itself.

Fair warning, I haven't read this story in probably 2 years. No, I think i listened to it at work recently? honestly i have no idea.

lol. Fury is such an a-hole.

---

it was not ear blood. It was the fact that Loki was crying. The ear blood just sort of sealed the deal.

---

PTSD from being tortured by Thanos ^^^

---

"Flesh around a long, ragged gorge (a stab, not clean) is blackened and the veins around it are turning a purplish-blue."

.....

galaxy.

that's kind of too funny to go and edit out honestly. Sometimes I find grammar errors that I can't stand but this is just. This is comedy gold.

reason 1134325235 I should have a beta, but don't. (I edit vigorously but that only catches 92% of everything)

---

"Fury can see evidence of previous scars there, white and not as faint as he's expecting for someone over a millennia old."

^^^

from torture with thanos

---

yeah, i think the injury has changed like at least two times that I've noticed. If you can't tell, I literally had no idea what I was going with, lol.

---

ha. Everyone kept making jokes about how Thanos would be defeated by Cap Marvel alone without any effort on her part whatsoever before Endgame came out and I found it really annoying. This is 1000% a "look, carol can't solve everything" point.

---

"He jolts a little and his face twitches with something that looks close to a grimace. Fury leans against the side of the car a little, and stares at him."

^^ hypervigilance, a common symptom of ptsd

---

""Believe me, Director, the things that are after me would horrify you."

Fury blinks. "That is not reassuring."

"It wasn't meant to be."

Of course not. Brat."

I love them, your honor.

---

"And, well, he attempted to smuggle me out the next day. We didn't make it far. Odin commissioned Thor banned from Asgard for the next two years and I to the snake pits beneath the palace."

THEY JUST HAVE SNAKE PITS BENEATH THE PALACE AND NO ONE BRINGS THAT UP AGAIN? WHAT IS THIS????????? AMERICA EXPLAIN!

----

"There is no way that Fury is sending him back. None on this planet, none on any other. If capital punishment must be met, it should be clean. Fury has never been big on torture as recompense for a crime."

I know there are a lot of mcu fics out there where Fury 100% engages in torture and believes it's an effective means of retrieving information or enacting punishment, but I personally don't see Fury doing that. To be clear, I think those fics are fun and very enjoyable, but I don't think that Natasha, Clint, or Tony would trust Tony to the extent they do if Fury was willing to do a ton of physical/mental harm to someone.

---

"Stop scowling, S.H.I.E.L.D. can always use the assets. You work for us and we'll give you a roof over your head and keep you from Asgard, and whatever else it is that's hunting you.""

WAIT I TOTALLY FORGOT THAT THIS IS THE FIC I WROTE WHERE LOKI BECOMES FURY'S C.I./AGENT

I LOVE THIS FIC

---

Between yet another villain attack and Tony breaking into S.H.I.E.L.D. again, Fury nearly forgets all about it.

TONY

I need the context behind this and yet I have none XD

---

 Despite the fact that his leathers were destroyed and Fury banned him from using magic save truly dire circumstances, he still manages to seem well dressed. Fury's not even certain where the long suit coat came from. He doesn't wear ties from what Fury's seen unless the circumstance permits it.

^^

more ptsd from torture. ties are a little too close to strangulation for him.

---

If Fury hadn't been looking for it he would have missed the slight widening of Loki's eyes and the relief slip into his stance.

^^

I always got the impression that Odin spent a great deal of time yelling at Thor and Loki for doing things wrong. I don't imagine Loki's delivered reports to his father that went over smoothly.

---

"So, you're keeping him?" Coulson questions and Fury nearly jumps in surprise at the voice, turning to look back at the agent currently seated in a chair in his office, the folder that he's compiled on Loki in hand.

I LOVE THIS FIC SO MUCH! WHY IS COULSON HERE? I DON"T KNOW, BUT IT'S GREAT HE BROKE INTO FURY'S OFFICE AND FURY ISN'T EVEN ANNOYED, JUST RESIGNED. like it happens all the time. (Oh, hill asked him to look into it. okay. makes sense. still glorious)

Also loving that Coulson is literally chill with the guy who stabbed him working with them. Like. Bro. You're a SAINT.

---

He hasn't mentioned it to his higher-ups and plans to keep it that way.

The more they can make it seem like Loki vanished off the face of the Earth the better.

Less things to shove off his tail.

^^

Fury's desperate self explanations for everything are fantastic. Literally he's doing this so the "big bad thing" after Loki doesn't pick up the fact that he didn't die on the street corner.

---

"Fury's rising desire to punch Odin and any other Asgardian (save Thor) in the face kicks up a notch."

^^

yeah if this is not clear from earlier, Fury and Thor are good terms. They've talked a bit about Loki, which is how Fury knew that Loki would make a good agent to begin with.

---

It both strings and numbs him to realize that Loki trusts him enough not to sneak something into the food. Loki stays the rest of the night on the couch, his face twitching with discomfort, but the trust that he presents Fury with is humbling.

^^

This is. Bro. Loki is so untrusting. like deeply at his core. the fact that he did this with fury just really makes me realize how much Loki trusts him. He showed up at Fury's house when he was having an anxiety attack to ask for help. He didn't think Fury would turn him away. He didn't even bother to pick through the food because he trusts fury. Like. whoa.

---

He comes to with an aching back, a sore throat unequal to any other, and the sound of quiet voices talking around him. His mind refuses to really process any of the words their speaking beyond frazzled bits of mumbles, but he recognizes the voices enough that he doesn't panic.

AND FURY TRUSTS THE AVENGERS + LOKI

---

"Thank you." Fury interrupts.

Loki's jaw hangs a little and he stares at him, "What?"

"Thank you." Fury repeats.

Loki's eyebrows look in danger of disappearing into his hairline. "I…?"

Curse you, Odin, and all you other Asgardian idiots.

^^^

Loki saved everyone's lives on Jotunheim and not one (1) person thanked him for keeping them alive. I don't get the impression he gets thanked that often.

---

"Sure, he was shot, but it isn't the worst thing that's ever happened to him before.

He's a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent. S.H.I.E.L.D. director.

He has other things to do."

THIS MAN I SWEAR

--

"Loki belongs to Asgard—!"

"And I've elected to ignore that."

^^

probably a better summary of this fic, lol.

---

LINK TO STORY

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

i once again got to thinking and yknow about the illinois discovering the cap in the cryo pod and all that? yeah imagine he leaves the ship after raiding it of any leftover goods and just as he leaves hes like "oh FUCK WASNT THAT Y/N-"

(that is if we imagine all the egos remember past timelines and are aware they do happen, and have also met y/n before iswm)

and immediatly after that theres a universe reboot (i hc they happen when the cap has truly died, in this case, frozen to death) and it lands everyone in the old friends au. i imagine illinois being VERY apologetic to the cap about abandoning them, even if they did look like some messed up ice mummy and would have probably died soon either way

could explain why my man lives inside a tent on y/ns property. human guard dog so noone can break in /j (and yancy is the small chihuahua demon dog thats also a guard dog exept he lives IN the house, not outside it. double protection!)

idk i was never the biggest fan of illinois but this is a cute idea.

For a guy who doesn't get attached to people he sure does get attached to us quick

I hc Cap thought they were hallucinating/dreaming when he opened the door, hence reaching out just to confirm if he was real or not. But when they see how truly sorry he is after the reboot they're like "oh shit you were there???"

They forgive him tho, knowing they messed up that timeline really bad with the whole crew rebellion and knew the universe was kinda doomed anyway.

But they get a second chance and so does Illinos :)

Imagine if Yancy finds out about this tho, he's gonna beat his ass

[cryptidmullet]

more renga headcanons bc i miss them

- rekis not one to like. hide his praise or anything he compliments langa a lot but just. every so often he'll grab langas wrist and look at him all soft and say "youre amazing langa" very reminiscent of how langa praises him and it just makes langa feel so fucking mushy and in love

- rekis used to affection from his family but thats kinda it and langas family was never super affectionate but he felt loved still but after his dad died he just felt super lonely but when they meet and start getting super close they both just feel like theyre overflowing with love both given and received and i just thinks that beautiful

- rekis chronically bad at opening bottles bc they hurt his hands and hes always embarrassed but he goes up to langa and is like. open please. and langa does KKFMSMFND

- it gets to the point he'll just go up to him with a bottle and langa will open it without being prompted

- yknow when youre really tired and you feel like youre floating in the ocean reki has that but he feels like hes rolling back and forth on his skateboard

- since he first started skating the movement and feeling got so ingrained in him that he'll be sitting at his desk or laying in bed and just feels the sensation of tick tacking like hes not moving he just can feel it like a ghost in his muscles and brain

- sometimes reki just wants to. stand on his board like not do anything just stand on it so he stores skateboards in his room and when he gets restless he'll just stand on one for a little bit

- reki talks to himself a lot he'll be doing some mindless task and then have a pretend conversation with nobody without even realizing it

- whenever reki cries or gets choked up about smth drinking water for some reason makes him feel better

- reki pokes the twins' bellies and blows raspberries on them to make them laugh :)

- langa cant pick up rice with chopsticks when he first moves to okinawa and reki makes fun of him but still teaches him how to do it

- langa has acne along his jawline its just bumpy and stuff

- reki wakes up and then lays in bed watching videos as long as he can before he gets up 

- he also holds his phone like two inches away from his face

- reki uses dark mode langa uses light mode until reki notices it forcibly changes it

- rekis phone is always at like really low brightness bc his eyes are sensitive

- its battery is also always low bc its an old phone and it takes forever to charge

- he takes a lot of pictures and videos of langa just for no reason half of them are blurry and out of focus and langas not paying attention but he keeps all of them

- he has a bookmark on instagram called 'langa' and its full of stuff that reminds reki of him or he wants to show him later

- langa and reki pair up for a presentation once and when theyre presenting they cannot stop laughing reki says um and pauses for a moment too long and langa does one of those long nose exhale laughs and it makes reki snort and then they keep messing up and barely get through it and when they walk back to their desks they shove each other while the class laughs

- langa has a really cheap purple phone case he got at walmart and rekis like dude thats so boring so he makes stickers for him to stick to it

- langa loves them but he also has this weird anxiety about putting stickers places bc he likes them and doesnt want to eventually get rid of whatever the sticker is on but reki tells him he'll make him more whenever he gets another phone so hes okay with it

- langa doesnt really fidget unless hes nervous and then he twists his fingers around but when hes sitting he rolls his right ankle a lot and his foots like always twitching really minutely 

- reki carries around a hairband partly for his sisters (and eventually langa) and partly so he can fidget with it

- langa carries one around too for the same reason but one day reki forgets it during work so langa gives it to him bc he looks restless 

- and langa kinda feels really bare and doesnt know what to do without it so he just rubs his wrist a lot but he doesnt mind 

- reki will get up to go do smth but just sit down curled in a ball on the floor bc he gets distracted for whatever reason and after like 20 minutes of scrolling through his phone hes like wait what was i doing

- reki has a scar on his lip/chin bc he bailed really hard and hit his chin on the concrete and bit through his lip 

- langas a dry ass texter when he and reki first meet bc he didnt really have anyone to text before

- but eventually he googles how to turn auto caps and everything changes

- hes actually funnier over text sometimes bc hes less restrained 

- hes made a ur mom joke and then was like wait i take it back i love your mom im sorry :c 

- and he points out every time reki misspells a word just to annoy him

- reki scrolling through tiktok and he randomly starts crying at a wholesome video and langas like.. you good man and rekis like look at this FRICKING tiktok dude and then langas crying too KFMSMFND

- obligatory "we make a good team" line idk the context ill think about it later but theyre gay they have to say it

- langa promised his mom hed go to the store but had to do a last minute shift at dope sketch and rekis like oh ill do it for you i already know what you get

- langa has a sweet tooth he loves candy and hot chocolate and all that stuff and reki is lowkey an enabler he always brings candy w him or has a bag in his room

- when reki laughs he wraps his arms around his stomach and hes the type to go silent when he laughs hard enough

- he'll go from standing normally to bent over to crouched down to falling and rolling on his back or side from laughing so hard

- its pretty rare but sometimes he snorts in the middle of a laugh too

- when langas laughing Really hard its loud and kind of wheezy and almost like a cackle and he covers his mouth most of the time just out of habit

- he curls up when he laughs too so he'll be laying on rekis bed or the floor and reki says smth that catches him totally off guard and he starts fucking cackling and brings his knees up to touch his forehead hitting his leg and wheezing

- langa helps reki teach chihiro and nanaka how to ride a bike and the four of them go on little bike rides together occasionally

- the twins pulling on langas pant leg until he bends down so they can whisper gibberish in his ear and the first time langa is like ??? but then he learns to just laugh and nod 

- all of rekis sisters coming into rekis room while langa is there to be like :D langa :D and reki herding them out and yelling we're busy and then just flopping on his bed to continue scrolling through his phone in silence

- reki does the older sibling thing and just stands in koyomis doorway 

- miya makes a meme reference that reki doesnt get and hes like god youre old and it wounds reki on a personal level

- reki has a piece of graphite just like permanently stuck in his leg bc when he was younger his friend accidently stabbed him with it and it broke off and just. stayed there

- reki gets super obsessed with one song for a week or two and he'll listen to it on loop like 10 times in a row and he learns the lyrics to them no matter the language and by proxy langa always has the stuck in his head

[simpformckinnon]

memorable

hi I’m back, I wanted to write remus’ first game just because yknow, but would just like to point out that I have no idea about ice hockey at all

characters belong to the wonderful @lumosinlove

if you have any, please send requests or just come for a chat in the asks :) xx

The locker room was loud, it always was, but to Remus, everything was different. Sirius had always told him he was part of the team, but until this moment he always felt slightly out of place. It wasn’t that the boys were cold towards him, far from it. Each of them made sure to include him where they could, but being their pt meant he had had to take a step back every now and again.

He doesn’t have to anymore.

“Pots for the love of fucking god stop harassing my boyfriend and get your kit on.”

From the moment he’d entered the locker room, James hadn’t left his side, either commentating every move he made, asking whether he was superstitious yet or just chirping him for any little thing.

“Why, jealous cap?” he wiggled his eyebrows, letting out an incredibly manly squeal as Sirius’ gloves hit him square in the chest. Remus just laughed, used to watching from he sidelines, the feeling of being involved foreign, but not unwelcome.

Remus continued changing, aware of the noise surrounding him but the buzz of adrenaline blocked out the majority. A hand appeared on his shoulder and he turned, a soft smile appearing as he met Sirius’ eyes.

“Hey.”

“Hi.”

“Are you nervous?” Sirius’ eyes scanned his face, looking for any signs of discomfort.

“A little, but I'm more excited. I didn’t think I’d ever get to be here,” he admitted, finding that the usual stab of pain he feels in his heart when he thinks about the accident had faded to a dull ache.

Sirius leaned down quickly, connecting their lips in a soft kiss and bringing his hand to cup Remus’ cheek.

“Yes get it cap and rookie!”

“Talker, call me rookie again and I’ll get Tremz to ring his sister and see if she's really at her apartment.”

“That’s cold Loops, cold,” Thomas mock glared, before breaking into a grin.

“You ready?” Sirius tapped his side, regaining his attention.

“As I’ll ever be.”

~

“Now that’s rookie Remus Lupin on first line with captain Sirius Black and James Potter. Now I don’t know about you Lee, but I’m wondering how he’ll fit in with their dynamic, as Black and Potter are well known for their almost psychic like play.”

“I did wonder that Frank. There have been some tweets circulating claiming favouritism is the reason for Lupins position on the team, but I’ve had the pleasure of seeing some of his old tapes and if he’s even as half as good as he was, then we are in for a right treat.”

They took their positions, Sirius center, Remus on the right, Pots on the left, Olli and Timmers in defence, Kasey in goal. They were playing Ravenclaw tonight, first game of the season. Remus’ first game for the NHL. He knew Jules and his parents were in the crowd, Jules in his jersey.

He watched the puck drop, watched Sirius steal it before the opposition even had a chance. He shot ahead, calling for the puck before receiving it, increasing his speed as he did. He dodged the defensemen, and raced towards the goal.

Should I pull the fake or save it?

He opted for a slap shot instead, hearing the goal horn blare not even a second later. He was surrounded suddenly, Sirius planting a quick kiss on his cheek, James knocking on his helmet, Olli and Timmers pulling him into a crushing hug. He could get used to this.

His goal set the pace for the game. They won 7-2, Remus scored one more, Logan got a hat trick, and James and Sirius each got one. The atmosphere of the rink was electric.

~

“Re! Re you scored! It was so cool, they didn’t expect it, all of a sudden you were there and you were so fast and it was like a blur an-” Jules rambled as he sprinted into the locker room, barreling into Remus at top speed.

“Still got it hey?” he grinned, wrapping his arms around the excited ten year old.

His mum wiped her eyes, clearing the tears that had began to form. Remus pulled her into the hug too, willing himself not to get emotional. They pulled apart as the rest of the families entered, and Sirius walked over.

“Oi Jules, where’s your Black jersey? Thought I was your favourite,” He teased, pulling the young boy into a loose headlock.

Julian laughed, scrambling to get away, before pulling up his Lupin jersey to reveal his Black one underneath. Remus wished he had his phone to take a picture, just to savour the look on Sirius’ face.  

“I couldn’t pick one of you, I mean obviously Re is my brother so he has to be my favourite,” Jules started, “but you’re my favourite too.”

“Don’t tell Remus, but you’re my favourite Lupin.”

Julians smile could’ve lit up the room, and it stayed plastered on his face even as his mum pulled him out of the room to allow them to change.

“You were amazing out there mon loup, I didn’t think it was possible but I think you just became ten times hotter.”

Remus swatted at him, but a blush coated his cheeks all the same. He pulled Sirius down for a quick kiss, still on a high from the adrenaline.

If this was a dream, he wished to never wake up.

[crowtrinkets]

Barista’s Adventures in Wonderland

Chapter 2: An Elf, a Manor, and a Catman

The Barista is still trying to find a way out of this strange dream, but they meet even stranger people on the way

Word Count: 3,789

Pt 1

Whooooo chapter 2, I stopped at like 2000 and was like yknow what lets keep going ;u;. Enjoy, gender neutral Barista as always

The dirt crunches under my feet as I follow down the path. Thank god I bought nice shoes for work otherwise I would be covered in blisters by now. As I continue down I spot something in the brush of trees. I get closer and realize it’s a door inlaid into a rock wall. The bushes surrounding it unfortunately are all white giving it an ominous look.

"Go through the creepy door? Or continue in this creepy forest in a strange place?" I ask out loud. Weighing my options I grab the key Felix handed me earlier and put it in the lock. Wincing for a second in fear that this door too will scream at me. But nothing happens and the key turns to unlock the door for me. I walk in and close the door behind me and stop to observe the room I've entered. A yellow couch and a desk sit in the center. There's a large bookcase that extends across the walls and reaches the ceilings, but despite its massive size, there are still piles of books stacked everywhere. Some reaching half my height. In the corner, I spot a kitchenette.

"Man this guy likes to read," I mumble to myself. "What was he asking for again his relic? And Glass-" I stop mid-sentence. Patting the pockets of my apron I pull out the book and glasses I picked up earlier and held them in front of me.

"Right I had them all this time… This is awkward," I mutter and place the items on the desk. "Maybe I can wait here and when he comes looking for me I can ask for a way out of wherever here is," I speculate. My stomach rumbles and I place my hand on it in an attempt to console complaints. My eyes travel to the kitchenette I saw earlier.

"I mean maybe a snack couldn't hurt, he did ask me for a favor," Approaching the cabinets I open them only to find, a small wine bottle that says drink me.

"Oh you've got to be kidding me," I grab the bottle to inspect it, opening the lid I take a whiff, sure enough, coffee. Just like the bottle from before. Running a hand over my face I let out a frustrated groan.

"This is the weirdest dream I've ever had!" I look back at the small bottle still open and still in my hand.

"That’s right… a dream," I ponder for a second and then. "Fuck it," I upturn the bottle and empty its contents into my mouth swallowing it like a cheap tequila shot. The flavor of lattes and espresso fills my taste buds and then it's gone. I put the bottle down and inspect my hands, trying to determine if I have grown or shrunk this time. Nothing.

"Well, I guess that wasn’t so-" I stop when my head smacks something hard above me. Letting out a slew of curses I crouch and cradle my poor crown.

"Ow ok, I guess I grew," Still crouching I look around the room, in my rapid growth it seems I had knocked over a few of the many stacks of books. I adjust so I'm sitting on my bottom and try to gauge my situation.

"Ok well I definitely cannot fit through the door," I say as I see my shoe is now much larger than said door. As I shuffle uncomfortably I hear voices approach.

"Well I don't know where he went I asked him to fetch my things but he has yet to return," a familiar voice grows closer, muffled behind the door.

"But the Duke-" an unfamiliar voice.

"Yes! I am aware the Duke is still expecting me but I cannot leave without my glasses or my relic, I will only be a moment," I let out a small gasp when I realize it's Felix. The door suddenly is pushed open but is stopped by the heel of my shoe.

"Oof! What in the heavens," Felix sounds annoyed and confused. I move my foot so he can open the door properly. He pushes the door open and lets out a gasp when he sees me.

"Hi Felix as you can see I'm kind of in a sticky situation," I attempt a joke.

"The giant!" he yells. Felix lifts a fist and green fire emits from his palm when he opens his hand.

"Oh! No thanks," I say and I quickly kick the door closed careful not to break it. I hear shouting and banging on the other side of the door as I use my foot to keep it closed, trying to find some way out. I grab the couch, which might as well be the size of a Barbie's in comparison to my large size, and place it in front of the door.

"I am ordering you to apprehend this giant!"

"Sorry sir you're not Miss Anka you can't order me to do anything," an exhaustive groan escapes Felix.

"Must I do everything myself?" he grumbles. I crawl over to the desk and start to search the drawers hoping I can find anything to shrink me or even to defend myself. I am not in the mood to be burned by green fire. I finally open the bottom drawer and I find a familiar item. A desert case with flan inside labeled "eat me". Without making any second guesses I upturn the case and drop the flan into my hand, throwing it into my mouth and praying I shrink to a decent size. Squinting my eyes closed I wait and wait, the desert case seeming to grow larger in my hand. When I open my eyes it's bigger than before, not comically so but much too large to appear normal. I stand and realize I'm about as high as the desk.

"Ok toddler size is better but still not great," I sigh. The sound of the door cracking startles me and I run to hide behind the desk. I hear the sound of the couch creaking against the wood floor as it is suddenly pushed a few feet back. I hold my breath and peek around the desk. In walks Felix and a man dressed as what I am assuming a knight.

"Where is it?" Felix mutters under his breath. He lets out a yelp when he notices a pile of books, all open and laying on top of each other. When Felix's back is turned as he attempts to right his collection I make a run for the door.

-

I run and run until my legs ache, not even bothering to keep track of where I am going, I stop to catch my breath, doubling over in a heaving mess. After catching my breath I decide to look at my surroundings, I am caught off guard when I realize I am not surrounded by trees but in fact large mushrooms. I look up and inspect the telltale gills many mushrooms have on their underside, backing up I try to take in the scope of just how large this mushroom is.

"Oh my god," I whisper. I suddenly hear the shuffle of fabric on top of the mushroom and a person peers over the edge. The first thing I notice about this person is that they have pointed ears. I try not to stare but I'm so amazed that I forget to speak.

"Well, who might you be hm?" They lean into their palm looking at me with a sort of annoyance crossed with curiosity.

"Oh um, I-I am uh," I'm still a little shocked and the person seems to take note. They let out a sigh.

"Never seen an elf before have you?" They ask. I decide to refrain from speaking and give a slow nod, flushing with embarrassment.

"I would be surprised if you did, you don't seem to be from around here, in all honesty, you look lost and a little naïve," Suddenly they disappear and toss a rope ladder over the side. "Come, join me," They say. I observe the ladder with a sort of hesitance, giving it a slight tug to be sure it won't fall whilst I climb. Deeming the ladder worthy of my ascension I climb up and onto the mushroom cap. Once I am at the top the person I met is sitting, long draping clothes cover their body. Multiple glass jars of different sizes and shapes surround them. In close proximity, I realize just how tall they are, although I am now the size of a child they still appear to be at least 6 feet in height. Once I settle down next to them, they tilt a glass container in my direction.

"Uhm what is that?" I ask.

"Lotion," they say. I mumble thanks and take some in my hand. It smells of lavender.

"Thank you uh-" I hesitate.

"Saaros," they respond. "So what are you doing here? You appear to be a traveler although that get up is not very travel friendly," I look down at my apron and sweater letting out a laugh.

"Oh yea uh, no I'm just lost and looking for a way out," Saaros eyes me, a smirk forming on their lips.

"Oh? And perhaps it isn't because you are looking for love?" they question. A small undignified escapes me as I feel my face warm.

"N-no, I'm lost and I just need to find a way out, I've only met a few people here and besides it's not like I'm- I'm looking for a man named Felix. He has a red waistcoat and messy looking hair, a-and I think he does magic?" I trail off thinking about Felix. I guess he wasn't bad-looking but he mistook me for someone else and then got scared of me as well. What a strange man Felix is. Saaros leans towards me, their smirk never leaving.

"No! I am not looking for love," I avoid eye contact, hoping to see something that will drag me out of this awkward situation. Saaros lets out a hum.

"Very well then, I however must get going," they stand and start to gather the bottles surrounding them and placing the items into a bag.

"But wait, I'm still lost!" I plead. Without another look at me, Saaros begins to climb down the step ladder they tossed down earlier. I lean over the edge and watch as Saaros descends.

"Could you at least tell me how to get back to my normal size? I'm not usually this small," I call out. Saaros looks up at me, an annoyed expression plastered on their face. They sigh.

"Very well," With one arm holding themselves on the ladder they point with the other. "The right side will allow you to shrink, while the left will allow you to grow, simple enough?" They ask. I give a small nod. They then point their hand in the opposite direction from where I came.

"If you go that direction you may find Blackthorn Hall, there you may find your dear Felix," I flush at their use of "dear" but elected to ignore it.

"Thank you," a small smile forms on my lips. Saaros gives me a nod and continues down the ladder, eventually reaching the floor, and disappearing into the forest. Turning back around I look at the mushroom I am sitting upon.

"Right to shrink left to grow," I mumble to myself. I grab a tiny piece of the left side and take a bite. Suddenly I grow much larger, way too large. My legs now dangling over the side of the mushroom cap.

"Too much," I yelp. I take a bit of the right side, even smaller than the last and I shrink down once again, I look at my surroundings trying to gauge if I am at least my normal height. Deeming myself as being back to normal I ascend down the ladder as well, heading the direction Saaros pointed me to.

-

I follow the path Saaros gave me and once I round a bend I stumble across a creepy-looking manor. It's not that it is unkempt or dirty, it's actually rather beautiful, but something about the particular building is giving off an unsettling aura. I let out a slow long sigh and approach its doors. Once I approach the front I find I am not alone. I see a very very large woman standing in front of the door. The door opens slightly, barely giving me a view of who is on the other side. The woman and whoever is on the other side of the door exchange a few words. I can make out the woman's name is Orion, and that the letter she hands him is an invitation meant for the Duke by the Queen, to attend a dinner. The man thanks Orion and then closes the door. Her posture remains stiff and upright, almost military-like, and as she turns around she spots me.

"Oh uh, hello, is the Duke in there?" I ask. Orion's expression remains inscrutable as she looks down at me from atop the steps. She gives me a slow nod and then sits on the stairs.

"Are you waiting for him?" I question, slowly ascending towards the door.

"I am but a messenger, and the next time a letter is sent I will send it again, it's all I do," She responds.

"Oh um, ok," I respond. Ok, that was strange and kind of cryptic. "Well I'm just gonna-" I point towards the door, but Orion's eyes still look forward into the distance. I let out a small nod and walk up to the door, and then I lightly rap on it.

"He won't answer," Orion suddenly speaks up, never bothering to look at me. Just before I can respond I hear the sound of broken glass and yelling. I open the door and a glass bowl suddenly flies out and narrowly misses Orion's head, who doesn’t react.

"What the hell," I mutter. I run inside to see what the commotion is, not even bothering to second guess myself. The door closes behind me and I am suddenly shrouded in darkness.

"Hello?" I call out, my nerves slowly start to build as I attempt to see through the darkness. Walking forward I hit a wall. Running my hands on it I hear a sound to my right. I look over and once my eyes adjust to the darkness I realize I see the outline of light poking out from under a door. Feeling along the walls, I approach the door until my hand finds a doorknob. I turn it slowly, allowing the door to open, squinting my eyes as the light that comes through blinds me.

When I finally open my eyes I can see the room in front of me. A green dining room with a long table with only two people sitting in it. On the left side is a hearth, a woman with long pale blonde hair slaves over a pot mixing its contents. The two at the table however catch my eye the most. They sit across from each other on the short end of the table, whispering and glaring at the other across from them. The man on the right has long dark hair that is greying, his heavy black and green robes compliment the room perfectly, almost as though this may be his house. The woman on the left has dark leather pants and a white shirt with mesh sleeves showing off her plethora of tattoos. I can't help but think they look familiar. The food in front of them consists of soup and wine, a strange dinner choice. My attention moves back to the woman at the cooking pot. No one has seemed to have noticed me yet. Are those… cat ears? On her head? My face twists with confusion. But something moving in the corner catches my eye. A man with a long purple coat and dark pants perches on a windowsill, high up. I realize he is not wearing a shirt and he too has cat ears. His ears are white to match his long braided hair, and the thing that caught my attention was his equally as whitetail. He catches sight of me and gives me a toothy smile, then winking.

"Why does that man have cat ears and a tail," I catch myself thinking out loud.

"He's an Ilpheta of course," I quickly turn my head and realize the man at the table has taken notice of me. An almost sinister smirk creeps onto his lips.

"Well, I didn't know cat boys existed," I attempt a joke, feeling awkward that I've been caught in this man's home.

"You don't seem to know very much do you?" The man says it's more of a statement than a question. Feeling insulted I clench my fists. He's technically correct, I really don't know anything about this place but I don’t need him telling me that.

"Now now Escell, no need to insult our guest," the woman says, peeking a glance at me.

"I hardly remember inviting them Scylla," He responds. Suddenly the sound of broken glass catches me off guard. The cook, who I have confirmed now definitely has a tail and ears, is throwing plate wear at the catman on the windowsill. However, he doesn’t respond when they make contact with him. He just continues to pick at something in his teeth while the woman furiously chucks items at him.

"Be careful you're going to hurt someone!" I shout. The sound of the chair creaking across wood startles me and I see the woman Scylla begins to approach me.

'Well you out to be careful lost one," she says, a flirty trill dances across her lips. Scylla stops at the end of the table and picks up a glass of wine, then holding it out to me. Her smile never leaves her lips. I begin to reach for the glass but I stop midway when the cat man speaks up.

"It's poisoned yknow," he says without looking at me.

"What?" Scylla then grabs my wrist and pulls me towards her.

"Just a sip dear, it couldn't hurt," She begins tilting the glass towards my mouth as I struggle to getaway.

"No!" I shout, suddenly a bright flash of light emits from my hand, knocking me backward and onto the floor. I slowly sit up groaning, I open my eyes and I see that Scylla is nowhere to be found, just a bottle of wine, upon further inspection I realize no one else is here. Escell, the catman, and the woman at the hearth are all gone. I slowly rise and pick up the wine bottle. Inspecting its label my breath hitches when all it reads is "Scylla".

"Oh um…" I mutter, I then place the wine bottle on the table and run back out of the manor.

Once my eyes adjust from the darkened halls to the bright sun outside I close the door behind me letting out a sigh. I notice Orion is no longer sitting in her spot atop the steps. I do however see the catman that was inside earlier. He flashes me another smile which takes me aback slightly.

"Um hello," I give a small wave. The catman approaches me, leaning against the wall.

"Well hello to you," I can't help but glance down at his form, his abdomen poking out from his long purple coat. My eyes snap back up to his and I don't miss the smirk he gives me.

"I'm uh, looking for a way out of here, if you know," don’t stare at his abs don’t stare at his abs don’t-

"Well, I could tell you but, not for free," I wince a little.

"I don’t have a lot of money, and I don't even know your name," I explain.

"It's Sage and besides, I'm cheap," he finishes that off with a wink, causing me to flush.

"L-look I just need to be pointed in the right direction, isn't someone free to go wherever they like?" I ask, hoping he takes the bait. Sage ponders for a moment, looking to the side as his tail lashes about behind him.

"Alright," he lifts a gloved finger and points behind me. "If you go down that way you'll find the Holy Knight, she'll be able to help you out, you'll also be able to find the not-so-holy Engineer, both are beautiful in my opinion though, I won't judge you for having a hard time picking between the two," Sage's smile never falters as he speaks.

"I am not looking for love, just a way out," I speak.

"Well, you must be if you've come here,"

"I am not!" My voice pitches a little and my cheeks grow warm. Sage ponders for a second, tapping a finger on his chin.

"You agree a monster is a monster yes?"

"I suppose so," I say, confused by where he is going with this.

"Then you best avoid them, they'll only drag you down, if you can avoid love you can avoid the monsters" Sage takes a slight step back, clasping his hands together in front of him. I look at him with confusion.

"I don't think you're a monster," I say. I may have just met this strange catman, but something about him tells me I can trust him, in some way.

"You should," he says, almost inaudible for me to hear. "U-uh anyways, are you going to the dinner?" Sage asks, dodging the subject he started. I decide to drop it for now.

"Dinner?" I ask. Sage nods, I then recall the conversation Orion had earlier, the Queen is hosting a dinner. "I guess I am a little hungry,"

"You seem like the type to get around," Sage begins to walk down the steps of the manor and I rush to catch up with him.

"W-wait there's something I don't understand," I say. Sage slows down to my pace but continues to walk towards the forest I came from. "What happened to that girl that approached me? Scylla?"

"She's a spirit now," Sage says, still looking forwards.

"What? What do you mean by that?" I turn around to look at the house once more, my head filling with even more confusion.

"Sage-" I turn around to speak with him but he's gone. I turn around looking for any signs of the cat man dressed in purple, but I see nothing. Letting out a groan I turn towards the direction he pointed me to.

"I guess it's time to pay this Holy Knight a visit," I say to myself.

[il-papa-patata]

Not So Scary Mary

You wake up from a nightmare in Mary’s apartment. He’s unexpectedly helpful as you try to fall back asleep.

Mary Goore/gender neutral reader, nightmares, Freshly Washed Mary

T for language

You bolt awake.

The dream tumbles after you, the heat of it dissipating but lingering in the clamminess of your skin, the way your heart pounds. You search for anything – details about the dream, anything to grasp onto, to laugh at – you always laugh at your nightmares after they happen, or at least try to – but this one just lingers, vibrant red and sicking to your skin like sand in all the wrong places.

It's not your bed, and not your apartment, so when you spring awake, you can't reach to the same places you do normally, can't reach beside your bed for the old dog plush you got for your sixth birthday, with its flopsy ears worn down over the years and the nose almost gone. You can't take one of the old-man hard candies from your nightstand and suck it against your teeth until you feel its warm flavor all the way down your throat, some sort of normalcy in the face of terror.

You can, in this place, reach for Mary Goore.

Who is already awake.

He's already half-up, blearily wiping his eyes with the heel of his hand. You feel bad – the man barely sleeps as it is, and yet here you are waking him up with something like this-

You forget how pretty he is with all the makeup wiped off.

He looks up at you, hazel eyes almost silver in the darkness, face thin and sharp, lips full and parted. Despite your rude awakening, his expression's clear, face neutral and maybe even a little concerned.

“S-sorry,” you stutter, the heat of the dream clinging to you like spiderwebs, “Just a nightmare-”

“Hey,” he says, resting his long hand on your shoulder, “S'okay. You want some water?”

“Y-yeah.”

He dips over to his side of the bed and hands you a still mostly-full water bottle, crinkled along its edges. He pulls his knees up as you drink, resting his head on one, just watching you drink down some of the cool water. The night's chilled it a bit, and it eases some of the nightmare heat inside you.

You cap it again when you feel you've had enough and try to hand it back, but he just shakes his head, holding up a hand. You put it back on your side.

“You wanna talk about it?” he offers, reaching out and smoothing a hand over your lower back.

You do.

You do- but...

But what would there be to say? You can't even remember the dream – you could talk about how you sometimes just have these nightmares but it strikes you that Mary might think you're being a little bitch about it-

On the other hand, Mary is surprisingly good about this kind of thing. He always has been.

“I just... have nightmares. Sometimes.”

“Yeah?” he murmurs, still stroking your lower back, “Anything about?”

“N...no. I don't think so, anyway. It's just... red when I wake up.”

“Red?”

“The color of your eyelids when it's sunny out.”

“Hm,” he hums, reaching his arm around your waist and leaning his head against you. His hair is clean – you washed it yourself – and it's fluffy where it brushes against you, all soft and wiry. “S' a tough one. Are you scared after 'em?”

You swallow.

You don't want to tell him that his mattress is the only thing that feels safe right now, that you had shivered putting down the water bottle, like it was a raft in a great tumultuous sea, as though his hastily thrown-on sheets were going to keep you safe. That even the moonlight outside twists into something horrid, the lamp you've tripped on six hundred times, the display from the old cassette-clock he convinces you still works becoming something else entirely. You don't want to tell him how long it takes you to feel normal back home, how his apartment – no matter how familiar by daylight – is scaring you.

He doesn't say anything when you fall silent. Instead, he just wraps his arms around you and pulls you back down into the sheets, guiding your head down against his chest, your nose against his ribs and your browbone against his collarbone.

“Shh,” he hushes, so softly, “It's okay.”

“Mare-”

“Shh. I've got you. It's okay. Nothing's gonna get you while I'm here.”

...Oh.

How long have you been wanting to hear that?

To not only be soothed but protected. You don't doubt for a second if anything actually tried to hurt you that Mary would launch at it, ready to fight it off or even kill it.

You sag into his hold, worming your arms around his slim waist, pressing your face more fully into his chest. He's warm, and unexpectedly soft despite how bony he is, and he hushes you quietly, stroking your nape slowly.

“You're...” you mumble, “Surprisingly good at this.”

“Eh, yknow.”

“No, really- you're... good at calming people down. And- you're nice.”

Mary laughs. “Well, my reputation gets outta hand sometimes. People don't believe I can be this feral and nasty and still be nice.”

You try to look up at him, face clean, hair fluffy. You knew he was sweet – you wouldn't be dating him or cuddled into his chest in his apartment if you thought otherwise, but-

No. You see it, here in the dark. The warmth of Mary. The little patient smile.

“You like being nice?”

Mary purses his lips, looking up at the window. “Well, who doesn't?”

“A lot of people think you don't.”

“Do you think that?” he asks, burying his fingers in your hair.

“No,” you say, “You love being nice. But-”

“But...”

“...oh. No, I get it now. The feralness is the niceness. It's-”

The desire to protect, to include, to be warm and to laugh – the violence and the trashiness and all that was that. A reflection, a complement to the kindness and the warmth and his barking laughter.

Mary smiles. His eyes glimmer slightly.

“Hmm,” he hums.

You tuck your head into his chest again, suddenly way too shy at that warm expression. It was usually a smile he smiled at you when he thought you weren't looking, but you'd never caught the full brunt of it, not from two inches away, and not with his arms around you and his legs tangled with yours.

“But yeah, I think you'll be okay.” He murmurs. “I had a lot of nightmares at one point too.”

He pulls you a bit closer, cocooning you against him. “Yeah?”

“Mmhm. Got out of a shitty life, but all of it chased me. Drank a lot to try and keep all of it away but it didn't really work. Anything I didn't deal with during the day, I dealt with at night.”

You breathe for a moment. You never know whether to ask more or not, when he talks about times before anyone here knew him, before he popped into the city covered in blood and screaming.

You choose to say nothing this time. If he tells you, he'll tell you.

“They'll fade. I make a mean cup of chamomile, though, if you can't get back to sleep.”

“Chamomile? You?”

“Yeh.”

He doesn't elaborate further, although you want to press it a bit.

But you figure you're wired as it is, and the proof's in the... tea, so you nod.

He helps you up, slowly – reaches over the side of his bed for a discarded hoodie which he drapes around your shoulders. It sits a little weird there, but it's comfortable, a nice protection against the chill of the night.

The two of you move into the kitchen, past his second-ish-hand couch. He has a stool obviously pilfered from some bar against his counter, and he perches you there as he goes puttering about.

You breathe deeply.

His house- well, his apartment- smells like him. Something old, something like dark hair warmed by the sun, the smell of smoke, this faint peppery thing. You never thought you'd get used to it – at its worst it's boldly organic, almost gross – but like this, settling around you and into your clothing and skin, it's pleasant.

Mary sets the kettle going – you didn't expect him to have one, and it's tiny, but it's enough for two cups of tea. He pulls down two mugs – one that looks like it's real china, a delicate porcelain thing, and the other a sturdy, obviously corporate mug for a bank.

You aren't sure which confuses you more.

“You worked in a bank?”

“Mhm,” he hums, spooning a bit of honey into it, “Kept the building running.”

“Don't you have an arrest record?”

“Didn't then. Helped pay for my first move.”

“Huh.”

He takes down a canister – it's beautiful, covered in intricate, sparkling cloth, a little thing. He pulls off the lid, and a second lid, and smells the contents. “Still fresh.”

He puts the leaves into two small steepers – both shaped like flowers – and covers them over with the freshly boiled water.

He leans back against the counter, humming quietly. You can't pick out the tune, but it's something kind of familiar. Most people knew his growl, but he had a perfectly nice voice when he sang.

He comes over to you, taking your hands in his and swaying your hands back and forth, humming softly. It's kind of weird – like he's playing with a puppet or trying to get you to dance – but you laugh anyway, bouncing your hands along with whatever he's singing, placid-faced and jaunty in his little galley kitchen.

“You're cute,” you tell him, and he sticks out his chin, frowning deeply while still playing with your hands.

“Am not.”

“Are too.”

“Nuh-uh.”

“Yuh-huh.”

“Imma kick your ass.”

“Try me,” you grin up at him, “You're the one singing love songs and dancing with me in your kitchen.”

He flushes, pouting slightly. “Whatever. Can't even hold my sweetheart's hands without someone accusing me of being cute?”

“You really calling me your sweetheart and trying to convince me you're not cute?”

“Shush.”

“Really though,” you say when he lets your hands go, settling your feet up on one of the bars on the stool, “You're such a contradiction sometimes.”

“Con-tro-dik-tee-on? Whazzat?”

“Don't play dumb,” you smirk, “You aren't stupid no matter how much you pretend. You read those academic texts like they're gonna disappear every time your friends bring them over.”

He purses his lips. “Hey, I'm a high-school dropout, you can't be mean to me.”

“What was the title of the last one? A Critique of Foucauldian Governmentality?”

“I'm frankly surprised you remembered that, but yes, and it was a very good article I will have you know.”

“You seemed super into it.”

“I am a slut for Foucault, so.”

You giggle.

He hands you the bank mug, scooping out the steeper with his fingers. He takes up the fine porcelain cup, and even though it's a bit of a contrast – its delicate, blush-pink glaze and gilt handle matching the still-slight flush on his cheeks and the warmth of his eyes in the quiet light of the kitchen – it's not a mismatch. Mary was like that, you think, just a collection of things that didn't seem to go together but felt natural when they were united.

You bump your ankle against his knee, and he shuffles over to you, standing in between your knees. You sip the tea as he does, commenting, “But I like it.”

“Like what?”

“That you're contradictory. Sweet and violent. Depraved but also-” you reach up with your free hand to stroke his jaw, chuckling when he sags into the touch like an eager street cat, “Surprisingly innocent.”

“You want me to show you that depravity?” he growls, grinning and fixing you with a stare that turns your guts to mush.

“Another time, maybe.”

The stare breaks and his expression melts into a little smile. “Aw, okay.”

“I mean, not that I don't want to fuck in your kitchen at 2:54am, and I don't think you're working tomorrow, but...” You shift, sipping more of the tea, “Still feeling kind of fragile.”

“S'okay, you don't gotta qualify why you're not up for it. All I need's the 'no'.”

He dips his head and rests his forehead against yours, closing his eyes and continuing to hum, the pretty, petal-like cup held close in his hands. You think you might want to lean up, to kiss his plush lips, but you don't. It's too late, and the chamomile is working, and your shoulders are slumping. You'd probably fall asleep kissing him.

Maybe another time for that, though. That sounds really nice.

He notices. Of course he does. And without complaint, he sets your cups on the counter and picks you up, cradling you against his shoulder. You feel like a kid again, passed out in the car, the same comfort of being brought inside and tucked in.

He sets you down again on the mattress, huffing a breath when he loses his grip on you. He gently pries the covers out from under you, settling them over your shoulders, batting away your hands when you try to help.

He climbs under the covers too, tugging his pillow closer and shimmying up alongside you, tucking his ankle against yours. You're drifting now, the chamomile and the quiet of his apartment and that familiar scent of him all lulling you back to sleep, but you still feel it when he gently kisses your forehead, smooths his fingers along your scalp, and murmurs, “No more bad dreams, now.”

[thehandsomeasshole]

@starttheanarchy from X

A rumbling high pitched cry of a living creature, the soft hum of a laser heating up. Before the spiderant can fully leave the ground in its attempt to launch itself at the red head, a quick shot from the head of DT turns it into ash. Moments later the large floating torso of a robot moves its way over to where the rest of the spiderants are and begins clearing the area with ease. "To be fair DT is a floating robot, I should get props for him being able to lift anything over a tonne at all." Is all she can say as she watches her creation be used not exactly for what she had originally intended.

A noise of agreement left her as she nodded her head, this was a mess that she was playing catch up on. Every step revealed a new and sometimes old issues or problems, and untold horrors that would explain some of the residents insanity.

"Oh so what am I suppose to not fight back and die? Self-defense is a thing." She keeps her lips tight on the actual number of people, she knows it is higher then she ever wanted.

Another reason to the countless hours she was stuck away while the others rested. But that is a mental spiral that no one has seen yet even herself, and Gaige wasn't going to break that record.

"Do you realize that it doesn't matter who, I would still be here. I would cause just as much chaos even if it was Maliwan or Torgue, the company doesn't matter, it is the enormity of the actions that are taking place that I have a grievance against. So once I am done with this, I got a whole check list to work through."

A small tsk as her eyes roll once more, she could already feel the odd ache from rolling them too often. But to want the title of tyrant why trying to claim being a hero? And he was calling her a hypocrite, the gall. But then there is silence after her offer. It is enough to get her to move forwards, the area now clear of deadly wildlife, and to sit down on top one of the ridges. And she could hear him begin in her ear, truly starting fro the beginning.

Her hand goes to her vault buckle, slipping it off and clicking it open to show a hidden system of her own design. A small holoscreen flickered to life above it and she began to take notes, to be able to keep her questions to herself and not interrupt. But before she could really take much, she had to slowly turn her eyes back to that giant floating H as he began to talk about the first real blood shed the station ever saw. No one deserved that kind of fate, let alone those who can't even fight back. And she could understand why loaders were used for what they are, even if there had been enough time to design something new.

Through out the whole story she let out the occasional hum or tsk in reaction, but also to let the man on the other side of the echo understand she was still listening.

A mechanic on Concordia? Something to ask others later on, there couldn't be many considering the lack of them on Pandora. As well as to ask on the reason why for the initial no considering at that point the vault hunters as far as she was aware had no issues with Hyperion, let alone Jack.

And she was torn on the laser because she could understand the pain of such handwork just ripped away. And she had a vague idea on how challenging it was with the laser that rested inside DT's head. But at the same time, she would never want anyone to have a laser of that magnitude considering if it could do that to a bandit settlement. Well it would only be a few tweaks away from being able to glass planets.

She paused in her notes when he mentioned seeing everything, it was hard to believe but there was something in his voice that made her believe he certainly saw something he shouldn't have. Gaige was going to have to go back onto that one on a different day since she could tell that right now was a horrible time to do so. And even as he talked about what Lilith did and the reason why he wore a mask, she could head just how this was not the cocky Jack from earlier.

This was a person who was done but still going. Something that it seemed being near Pandora did to people.

"Well I would say quit your day job regardless and stop all this without anymore murder. But we both know we are too far in to be willing to stop." A small click as she closed the cover on the buckle to once more hide away her person little holounit that stored information that she kept only for herself. The notes saved for review for another day. "I do have questions, but you sound..... Rough. Would you rather a topic change? Or just end this call? I do have things to do, and I'm sure you have plenty of ill placed paper work to finish."

Although it was given reluctantly, Jack agreed. It was impressive that she'd learned how to do those kinds of things at her age.

"Yeah, whatever. I'll give you that one. You also get props for making it look so ugly, just thought it was a bold move. Yknow? You know."

... What? He couldn't be totally nice.

"Sure. Self defense. Like when you stroll into someone else's town, someone shoots at you so you obliterate the entire population! That kinda self defense? Cause that's the kind that we've both partaken in, right?"

A small chuckle slipped past Jack's lips, and though he let the fact that she ignored his question slide, he kept the thought tucked away for later.

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever you say, kid. Must be nice not to have a personal reason for doing all this." Had he said too much? "I mean, you must feel great getting all tucked up in your bed at night, snuggled up with your teddy bear, thinking about what a productive day you've had, while I've got widows and widowers moping about 'cause the vault hunters murdered their significant others while they were trying to do their jobs. Hope you rest easy, champ."

Sometimes Jack really did consider quitting. Leaving Hyperion for good. Taking Angel, maybe Nisha if she would, go back to Tantalus and live a quiet life.

Hah. A quiet life. In this universe? What a joke.

"Mhm. Too many eggs in one basket, right?" he sighed, shaking his head and letting his pen drop back onto the desk, satisfied that he'd done enough work to subdue his poor PA for now, "Don't even think I'd remember what I did before this whole fiasco if I tried."

Wait, wait, wait...

What?

She was actually... asking him? Not-...

Jack swallowed hard, "I- Uh... I don't..." he shook his head, brows furrowing deeper and he continued, "I don't really know what you'd have questions about, but... To Hell with it, shoot. Ask whatever the Hell you want, but keep in mind I will be drinking."

He leaned down, reaching into his coat pocket and pulling out a small metal flask, flipping the cap up and taking a long drink. Exhaling sharply, he turned back to the echo.

"Alright. Go for it."

[themanicgalaxy]

SPN 1X15 The Benders

FINALLY THE WEEKEND I HAVE TIME TO WATCH MORE DEMON SHOW

WHEEEEE

I’ve heard this one is Disturbing, so maybe a second episode isn’t gonna be needed who knows

ok spooky vibes at the beginning 

JUST FUCKING DRAGGED OUT UNDER THE CAR I SEE HOW IT IS

where in the goddamn fuck did they get these uniforms

Dean nerds out with the child and Sam shoots him a Look

No Dean we have Important Business Sam cmon let the kid be less traumatized please

Sam is Important Business Mode, which is an interesting shift? I can’t remember that happening before or at least him being as annoyed and wanting to hunt more than Dean

I was so scared till the Evil Kittie came in and scared Sam

This really does stress the Nowhere is Safe vibes, rly scratches my paranoia

oboi and Sam is TAKEN OH GOD

ah and they’re named after the rifle/haunted house thing

Fun Fact so many things in the Midwest are named Winchester it’s wild

Oh right Dean is technically “Dead” that’s one wheee

“I’m bringing him back” Well that’s not foreshadowing now is it(it probably is)

He used the pseudonym GREG?? BUDDY

The engine thing? ooooo that’s pretty neat

Sam’s trying to parkour his way out good for you kiddo

This man is a solid four years older than me but eh

“I’ll be damned” They both said it 

They’re so surprised it’s not an evil spirit damn

This woman’s eyes are so incredibly blue

Oh my fucking god and he gets caught AGAIN IT HAPPENS EVERY TIME

Nice job Greg

LoOk inTo mY eYeS DEAN DOES THAT EVER WORK 

HOW IS THE PERSUASION THING WORKING EVEN A LITTLE BIT 

ah yes a legendary “Don’t call me Sammy” line

“It might be a trap” he’s right though it was Way too easy for how well prepared this cage was

this dude really finds a knife and expects it not to be a trap?

yeah I wouldn't be thinking more rationally at this point but listen 

Jesus christ for people this is a lot worse than like ANY of the others

And she got him coffee HOW DO THEY ALWAYS GET COFFEE OUT OF THIS DEAL

*promises he won’t get involved* sir

LMAO AND SHE HANDCUFFS HIM TO THE CAR GOOD SHE’S SMART

Please dear god tell me she doesn't die

This kid is terrifying WHY IS SHE SMIRKING LIKE THAT SHE’S LIKE 10

and he got kathleen GOD FUKICNG 

EYYY YA BOI GOT THE ANTENA OFF AND FOUND EM

Aw they had a Moment about Brothers and whatnot

ok but seriously how did they hook up an industrial grade prison with no one noticing? doesn’t that take some kind of specialized parts?

the “they’re just people,” like guys people do bad shit too come on now

I have NO idea what vibe they were going for for this house, it’s just a mess

IS THAT A FUCKING CRADLE OF BONE

the ragtime music to the cutting up a person is making me physically nauseous I’m gonna throw up

stop sawing bone stop sawing bone PLEASE DEAR GOD PLEASE STOP 

NO 

WHY DOES HE KEEP THE TEETH

THIS IS LIKE THE WORST OF ALL THE MIDDLE SCHOOL NIGHTMARES INTO ONE THING 

SHE FUCKING STABBED HIM OH MY GOD

THIS FIGHT SCENE IS JUST FUCKED

also red baseball cap was that a Thing? a Reason?

hey look Dean’s gagging too, same bro

“eat me wait you actually might no don’t”

Takes Sam because Sam has a fighting chance?

SHOOT THEM BOTH??

oh thank GOD for Sam 

Did they get Kathleen out??

FROM ABOVE? HOLY HELL NICE JOB KATHLEEN

is this a bad time to mention early seasons sam looked good in a t shirt

“Why” “because it’s fun” well that’s horrific

and she fucking shoots him I feel like that’s not good to do, but also like...yeah I see it 

heyyy she let them go

“sorry about your brother” af;ihsia

“I thought it would be easier if i knew but it isn’t” parallel? important?

“don’t go missing again” “you were worried” Awwww

and Sam gives Dean shit for getting taken down by a 13 year old ok i like that

Wrap-up!!

1. That was disturbing. Genuinely disturbing I think I threw up in my mouth a little

2. Both of them are very capable hunters in their own way and damn was it cool seeing both of them figure some shit out alone

3. I actually REALLY like Kathleen as a character, and she got an arc about her brother+got to live! too bad she will never be seen again but

4. cop thing had troubling implications but honestly i think in this case it was deserved 

this was good. Not fun, but very very good episode. OOO next one is plot ok yknow what who needs sleep

[luuxxart]

GIVE US THE NEW WARRIORS HEADCANONS UR REDESIGNS ARE AMAZINGJAKMAKWJDKSL💖💖💖

aaaa omG thank you!! :’D I’m actually strangely attached to these characters so I’ll try to do my best to explain the design choices I made and everything

ok so here we go.

SCREENTIME

* first off

* Not an entirely bad name??

* I would prefer Worm tho as a reference to the Morris Worm

* And I did make his design a little more wormy. Kinda Doc Ock-ish.

* So his tragic backstory... Well. Long long ago... when he was just a little kid... his dad fucked his mom.

* Jkjkjkjk. But it would be better than fucking “internet gas.”

* To take this in a darker route, I think it would be cool if his grandad had been experimenting with creating cyborgs and turned his dad into one. And then turned Screentime into one. So Screentime escaped sort of half-finished and is just trying to help others who might mirror his situation of abuse.

* I like to think his first superhero story was he was just like fucking buying bulk ramen and then hears a dude harassing a girl in the next aisle over and is like. huh. word. guess I can intimidate this guy by threatening to take his fucking social security and make it public knowledge.

* Bc he can hook up to the internet and updates his database frequently so he can just Mr. Robot people.

* He’s probably like 18 or 19. Never was schooled and college is kinda pointless when you have the whole internet in your brain.

* So he’s just living in a rundown apartment. Payin bills by doing odd jobs and doin bitcoin stocks.

* On the battlefield, he’d definitely be a mind games kind of guy, but he’d also use his worm limbs for dexterity and could probably discharge bursts of electricity at the cost of losing some information in his database.

* Also it’s probably really hard to tell, but Screentime is my favorite out of the original designs.

TRAILBLAZER

* again! Not a bad name at all!

* Made me think of fire though... and hiking... so

* We really don’t have much information on these characters so they were kinda fun to play around w and I think she was my favorite in terms of concepts.

* Also what the fuck are those red things on her head am I just fucking dumb???

* They look like devil horns. So I’m gonna run with it.

* Ok so she got a backpack from a god.

* Well that god was a god of Hell and also her godfather. Her actual father was another god of Hell. And idk how gods really work in the Marvel universe?? But I think there’s probably at least some high-ranking demons of Hell. I think Hell exists??? If I remember Doctor Strange correctly? (Maybe not Doctor Strange... bro everything is so hard to keep up with)

* Anyway, her dad was killed by some hero traveling through Hell at some point probably. And so she’s been preparing since to go avenge him.

* Then she gets to earth and is kinda like... well, avenging can wait.

* And the reason she can’t just get anything she wants out of the backpacks is because the backpacks are alive. But over time as she gains their trust, they start to become more and more useful. So, like magikarp to gyarados.

* her outfit was so fucking hard to redesign. like,,, I still don’t like it. The backpacks and stuff yes. Everything else no. But it’s better than the Neon Nightmare.

* Her powerset shouldn’t be limited to just her backpacks though. I saw a lot of people complain about that. Bc anyone could steal them from her and use them?

* So I think she should have superhuman strength. Also, her backpacks should only respond to her command. It’d be cute if they were also kinda cheeky about it. Bc yeah she’s a spoiled little brat. But she’s their spoiled little brat so they’re not opening up for anybody but her.

* She’s defo the youngest of the group

* Even if she is an immortal demon kid lol

S

bro I can’t even say it

I’m renaming them Shuriken. Effective immediately.

SHURIKEN

* So Shuriken is non-binary. Which I think is really cool! They’re not the first non-binary character that Marvel has,, bc Loki exists,, but while they’re not a good step forward... they’re a step forward nonetheless and I kinda commend them for at least trying.

* But goddamnit why did they have to go and name them S

* Sn

* please don’t make me say it

* So Shuriken has ice powers that are sort of threatening to take them over. Like if Iceman couldn’t control his powers ig. Their powers sort of came to them mysteriously in the middle of them already having a gender crisis and high school is happening and all that blah and now they’re just like,,, so ,, “superheroing seems to be a good venture right now. Maybe I’ll find myself in heroics and forget about everything else”

* And most of the heroic ideal is on their brother, ,,,, uh,,,, Quarterback,,, who idolizes the “classic” heroes like Cap, Iron Man, and Thor.

* Shuriken prefers reading news stories about Night Slasher and Punisher, Jessica Jones, and just generally, the other edgier heroes.

* But because their brother idolizes heroics so much, it makes it sort of a surprise when Shuriken takes up their mantle before Quarterback realizes anything is going on.

* And how does the ice stuff affect them? They���re sort of on the fence about finding a cure and whatnot. Most people speculate its like later-in-life mutation, but Shuriken isn’t satisfied with this answer.

*they sometimes chop off the spiky ice parts for convenience(they have no feeling in the frozen over parts of their body)

*(I’m toying with the idea of them having a crush on Ms. Marvel ngl)

QUARTERBACK

* not much to say about him? Other than goddamn that neon was terrible.

* Also I’ve seen jocks wear pink, so some youtube dudes complaining about that can fuck off. Maybe not that bright of a shade?

* But I figure with a defensive character, you would definitely want a bulkier frame. At least Power Man levels of a bulky frame? Like I’m not talking Hulk or Thing. Just.. yknow. At least a good Cap size dude.

* Also a blockier costume would make sense. Since he’s supposed to be. Uh. Safe. For people to like,, crowd behind. Like a safe

* Like a safe sp

* Like a

* safespace.

* I also like to think he was sort of a stereotypical jock and then here comes his little sibling (by like,, 7 minutes) who’s finally just like “yo fuck the gender spectrum” and so he finally opens up to his own interests that he’s been burying

* Like the color coral

* Which is definitely not pink my dudiest of dudes ;)

* He’s definitely more

* CHILL

* than Shuriken about the whole ice taking over his body thing. Like, at the end of the day, he’s still a jock even if he did turn out to be a mutant. Like , the world didn’t just end because he’s got some cool ice powers

* Also only being able to create a shield if it’s for others?? What a fucking joke man come on

* He can create platforms of ice and just mainly uses the ice as shields.

B-NEGATIVE

* OK THIS IS MY SON

* not the original he kinda just looked like he took one look at Welcome to the Black Parade and said “I can do that outfit. But crappier.”

* Listen,,,, I constructed a son

* It’s like that thing from that movie

* I was like

* “We can rebuild him...”

* is that fucking robocop

* At any rate, yeah yeah, Morbius stuff is still withstanding

* What if

* And hear me out

* His parents were sort of antivax sort of anti-mutant sort of folk. They get into some sort of car accident when he’s kinda young. He gets a blood transfusion against his parent’s wishes and in the end also gets adopted by this weirdass doctor who probably has some nefarious purpose, considering he used Morbius’ blood in the first place.

* This would explain how he could survive having vampirism since a doctor would probably have easier access to donated blood and stuff.

* Should the blood be going to people who actually need a transfusion? yes, however, this doctor is clearly ,, off his fucking rocker and corrupt as hell,, and what is his purpose?? The world may never know

* I don’t think B-Negative cares about anything. Like he just seems like that kind of character? Totally and inherently aloof and selfish because he’s just been fed blood on a silver spoon his whole life?

* Just does not care

* He does care about music though. Specifically rock(alternative, punk, hard, etc) and the history of it.

* me personally I really like Pink Floyd and I’m not going to,, shove my beliefs onto a character but

* I’m going to shove my beliefs onto a character and say his favorite song of all time is probably Welcome to the Machine

* And he probably will not shut up about how righteous of a song it is and how pertinent the message is

* Bc I think it fits,,, a lot of things about the stuff I’ve wrote with the backstories of these characters

* and yes

* he can perfectly mimic Great Gig in the Sky. the man!! has pipes!!!

* I also think it would be cool if he’s the oldest of them? Like, younger than 21 but he’s out of high school. Just trying to get a bachelors in music history at fuckin uh. NYU probably.

* he unironically likes twilight

[haloud]

frame me up on your wall

prompt fill for the rnm kink meme! prompt is here.  rated E.

and here it is on ao3

Contains: emotional sex, Alex taking Michael apart with ruthless care, yknow, just normal everyday stuff around here

It’s never been a thing, really, that Michael stays hard after they’ve finished, could come again and again long after Alex has been exhausted and spent. Alex satisfies him, always, and that’s that. Sometimes Alex will order him to jack himself off one more time after they’ve come together and watch, tongue against his bottom lip, heat in his eyes. It isn’t a thing until Alex wants it to be, until he takes matters into his own hands.

It starts…

Well. It doesn’t start at any one place at any one time, so much as it builds from fumbles in the dark to aching, sweat-slicked arching together, to Alex moving and flexing his stomach, his hips, head tipped back as he rides Michael, using him for his own pleasure—but it’s that last time that Michael first sees the spark of it in Alex’s eye for what it is, when Alex comes, grinning and shuddering with his eyes fluttering shut, the working of his body pulling Michael along with him before he’s finished riding out the aftershocks. He tips over on his side to curl up into Michael’s chest, one hand scritching through his chest hair, the other drifting down to wrap gently around Michael where he’s still rock hard. Michael twitches away a bit on instinct at the oversensitivity, and Alex lets out a pleased little hum.

Michael’s laugh is breathy, and he turns his head to kiss the top of Alex’s and mutter into his hair, “I know a plotting noise when I hear one. How afraid should I be right now?”

Alex just laughs along with him and lifts his head up for a real kiss, and that’s how Michael knows the answer is very.

A few days pass—teasing days, days where Alex will rile him up with little touches, lingering, open-mouth kisses, then leave him wanting, whimpering and rolling his head against Alex’s shoulder.

“Why are you doing this,” he whines, headbutting him lightly.

“Just want to collect the best possible data,” Alex replies cheerfully, tugging his hair to force his head back and away, making him moan at the deep sting. “Call it scientific curiosity. You’re into that kind of thing, right?”

“You’re into cruel and unusual punishment.”

“Drama queen.”

By the third day of this, it takes nothing, nothing at all, to get Michael hard and aching, so it’s a profound, sweet relief when Alex slips straight into bed and climbs on top of him, letting Michael bear his whole body weight to kiss him.

And he kisses him. Pinned to the bed, Alex’s hand firm on his jaw, thumb on his vulnerable throat, Michael is possessed and owned and gasping for air he doesn’t really need, because everything he needs is Alex, and what Alex is ready to give him.

He can’t help himself, already hard, from hooking his leg around Alex’s waist, slipping down so his calf rests against the curve of Alex’s ass, rubbing himself against his hip and ready to come in his pants like a teenager. Alex laughs and bites his bottom lip, letting him go at it all sloppy and eager for pleasure, no matter what Alex has in store for him tonight.

“Go ahead, if you’re so eager to get started,” Alex says. He grips Michael’s ass firmly, grinding their bodies together, taking control of Michael’s clumsy rhythm. Given permission, Michael bucks and comes, but it’s not enough, not nearly, and he shudders in Alex’s arms at the twitching, ultra-sensitive aftershocks zipping across his nerves.

“Fuck,” he breathes, nosing against the hollow right behind Alex’s ear and inhaling as he tries to recover. Alex massages the back of his neck, giving him this moment, until he grabs the soft curls at the base of his skull and tugs him away again.

“Undress.”

Alex rolls off him, and Michael scrambles to obey, shucking off his pants; he’s barely kicked them off his ankles when Alex’s hands are on him again, pulling him into position, and he tries to stay as still and good as he can, wherever Alex puts him. He lets out a h-hah—when Alex wraps a hand loosely around the base of his cock, nudging his legs wide apart to lay between them.

“How long will it take before you beg me, I wonder. For relief, for mercy—either one, really.”

His grin is so beautiful, so fierce, Michael gulps and clenches his hands at his sides, not having permission to reach down and run his fingers through that soft, dark hair. Adrenaline spikes in his blood at the look in those eyes, and he cries out, helpless, when Alex ducks to lap at a streak of come left from before.

“I want to hear you beg,” he says, licking his lips, those dark, dark eyes locking onto Michael’s again, pinning him in place like a mouse cornered by a cat.

“Alex,” he replies, voice all cracked open and pleading already, and maybe he isn’t begging yet, not really, but he’ll do anything, be anything, Alex wants.

“That’s a good start.”

He takes the head of Michael’s cock into his mouth, just the tip, and rests it there on his tongue, so soft and wet and hot and Michael cries out but doesn’t, doesn’t thrust up into it. He’s so sensitive that every tiny fluctuation of Alex’s tongue sends him twisting and shuddering, and—

Alex sinks down, and he can’t help himself, can’t help but rock up into it, not thrusting but curling around that point of unbearable pleasure, knees rucking up to frame Alex’s head, toes curling helplessly in the air when Alex sucks hard, the pressure making him clench up, every muscle he has.

Then Alex is gone, leaving him cold and pulling the first “Please—” from his lips, already, because Alex told him to beg, and he wants, wants to be good for him.

“Just cleaning you up,” Alex teases, sitting up and gently easing Michael’s legs back down to the bed.

“Alex, please.”

“Hm. Well, since you asked so nicely.”

And then his mouth is back all liquid and hot and Michael lets out a cracked moan to the ceiling, back arching while his hips stay still on the bed right where Alex holds him. His second orgasm comes so fast on the heels of the first, still so, so sensitive, urged on by the expert working of Alex’s tongue on his shaft, the seal of his lips, the soft perfection of his mouth. Alex lets him come right down his throat, pulls off wiping his mouth and swallowing one more time, smug satisfaction in every line of his rubbed-red smile.

He crawls up Michael’s body to kiss him, grab a fistful of curls and direct him just the way he likes, and Michael holds himself all limp to follow orders. He tastes himself on top of Alex, and it makes him shudder under every single touch.

Then Alex is pulling away, kneeling up to fetch the bottle of lube on the bed beside them. The loss of his attention, even for a second, is a cold shock that has Michael reaching out for him until he comes back, hitches Michael’s thighs around his hips.

“Don’t worry, Michael,” Alex croons, “I’m still going to fuck you.” Cool and steady, his fingers pet across Michael’s hole, and Michael arches his hips up, not sure if he’s going toward or away from that teasing touch, and Alex laughs and keeps petting him, never actually sinking a finger inside.

“As soon as you’ve come one more time, then I’ll fuck you. Nice and slow when there’s nothing in your head except for me, my cock inside you, just this side of hurting. Does that sound good?”

All he’s capable of vocalizing is a strangled, whimpering sound, a desperate affirmation, an arch of his back to give Alex all the openness and space he needs to finish taking him apart. And Alex croons wordlessly in return, rewarding him by leaning over and laying sweet kisses across his back and shoulders. His finger sinks inside, and Michael shakes, clenches around it on reflex, grits his teeth on a loud, shuddery moan.

“You’re so hot. Gonna feel so good around me, hm? You always do.”

“H—hhhh—ahh, ‘lex—”

“That’s it. I want to hear you say my name, Michael.” He adds another finger, scissors them apart, stretching Michael’s hole.

“Alex!”

“Good boy.”

Tears bead on Michael’s lashes; he swallows down the lump in his throat and breathes out a shuddery gasp. The sound of a cap behind him—and Michael thinks Alex is adding more lube, hitches his hips up in anticipation, but then it’s Alex’s other hand walking wet fingers up the line of his spine, and Michael breathes in the electric chemical smell of acetone, and he’s already moaning by the time Alex’s fingers get to his mouth. The taste hits his tongue and burns all the way down his throat the way good whiskey does, and Michael takes Alex’s long, lovely fingers down to the knuckle, trying to stuff them in his throat, to take Alex any and every way he can get. He sucks them dry of acetone, until Alex pulls them away and brings them back coated in liquid again, and Michael swallows and swallows.

“That’s it,” Alex purrs. Then his fingers are gone, and Michael tries to breathe better so he doesn’t pass out, works his jaw from the missing of something to stretch it, that extra shade of fullness he can’t help but crave.

The next sound actually is more lube, and a third finger slides inside Michael’s ass, even though he’s so loose and pliant already.

“Please,” he moans.

“One more, Michael. You’re going to give me one more, because you’re good, so good for me—”

God, and then Alex is slicking up his cock, and then he’s working his way inside, and Michael should be spent, it should hurt and sting too bad for him to even get hard again, but he is, again, still, throbbing and aching as Alex strokes him until he bottoms out, and the pain feels so, so good.

Michael’s hands scrabble against the bed, desperate for something to hold onto, fisting the sheets until they spring free of the corners of the mattress, fisting in his own hair and pulling hard, biting his own palm to muffle the pathetic sounds, the grunts and mewls driven out of his throat with every thrust. It hurts, ripe and raw, it’s too, too much, lets and arms so weak he can’t get any leverage.

Everything he is is Alex’s, and Alex takes him. Takes him down and takes him apart. His face is wet with tears, a line of drool at the corner of his open mouth as he surrenders to it, fills his mouth with please, please, please, Alex, please.

“What do you want, Michael? What do you need?”

“F-fuck—” He gasps out as Alex eases into him, lets him fill his lungs up with air, digging pressure against his prostate and making his cock twitch, because he’s close again, somehow, knowing it’s gonna hurt just makes it better, raises goosebumps on every inch of his skin

“Yeah. You can’t even say it, can you? But I know. I know what you need.”

“Always, Alex—Alex—ahh, fuck!”

Alex takes his rhythm back, harder and faster, and wraps his hand around Michael’s cock to bring him along too. And he does have mercy, keeping his touch light but firm, not so much friction Michael tries to squirm away on instinct, but just enough to help him over that edge again, again, again, as many times as Alex wants—

And then Alex comes inside him with a long, sweet moan of his own, Michael’s answering whine high and thin, and Alex, he pulls away even though Michael tries to arch up, tighten up, to keep him in, not ready to be without the fullness and weight of him inside, anchoring him in his body.

Alex hushes him, soothes him by sliding two fingers back inside, not enough but enough to keep him from crying out again. His knuckle nudges Michael’s prostate again, at the same time his hand clenches down and works him more firmly, and that’s it, another orgasm is pulled out of him burning and bruised and sweet like a good, sore muscle, and his toes curl up, and his head goes back, and his eyes roll up in his head, and he loses a little time there, for just a second, to the wordless, pleased, proud rumble of Alex’s voice as he comes in to kiss him, steal the quick and fluttering breath from his lips.

“Oh, Michael,” he says against his mouth. “God, you’re incredible, you did everything I asked, you’re so, so good—"

And Michael believes him, and he floats there for a while, feeling as loose and giving as warm taffy, moving only with Alex’s gentle hands as he cleans them and the bed, not even flinching when he touches him where it’s sore and used and raw. The trickle of water on his skin is cool and sweet, and the world swims behind Michael’s half-closed eyes until the washcloth goes away and takes Alex with it, then the bed dips again and Alex is back, sliding his arm beneath Michael’s heavy head, pulling him into his body.

“Look at you,” Alex murmurs, his thumb smoothing over Michael’s eyebrow and down to rest against his cheek. And Michael smiles to dimple just beneath that touch.

“’M a mess.”

“You’re perfect.”

And there’s a raw tenderness in his voice that makes Michael stir, open his eyes, and look up into his face.

“I’ve had everything of you, and it still isn’t enough,” Alex says, in almost a whisper.

“Doesn’t have to be. Anything you want, it’s yours.”

“I could have you like this every day for the rest of our lives, and I think I’d still want more. It scares me, wanting anything that much.”

His hand skims down Michael’s side, warm against skin that’s cooled off the exertion flush, and Michael lowers his own hand to cover it, press it against his bare stomach.

“I’m yours,” he says, all metaphors deserted in the wake of the peaceful haze Alex has left inside his mind.

Alex bends to kiss his forehead, tugs him so much closer like he’s trying to fuse them together, and Michael closes his eyes, slips a leg between Alex’s thighs, and lets the feeling of their bodies so close carry him away.

[takecarc]

hey there dudes, it’s me… ya boi. i won’t bore you with a long ass intro about me, but just know all you gotta do to befriend this fellow bean is yell into my ims that you wanna plot or legit anything else… i like yelling in all caps. anyways, my name’s amanda, i reside in the sunny gmt+1 timezone and i go by she/her. that’s abt it i guess ?? i never rly know what to say in these so i’ll just proceed to telling you about my children ethan and mallory under the cut

ps: like this and i’ll come to you for plots or yknow… just hmu !!

✎⌠sebastian stan. male. he/his⌡❝ — well, look who’s just arrived ! if it isn’t the one and only ethan bronson. though, around here they’re known as the cinephile. don’t tell ‘em i said this but the thirty five year old hollywood director and producer kinda has a reputation of being incessant and pedant. but y’know, they can be visionary and intuitive too. typical virgo. anyways, welcome home and stay safe ethan ! ❞ ↷ amanda. 19. she/her. gmt+1. 

when i saw there was a vacancy for the owner of reel tide cinema i just knew i had to bring my son ethan into this group. his parents would have bought the place back in the 80s and now that his dad passed away her mom must likely put it in his name since she doesn’t feel like she’s capable of running the place all by herself.

ethan grew up in that movie theater, spending his early childhood sneaking into exhibitions of films he had no business of seeing at that age and helping his folks renovate the halls with a fresh coat of paint. nothing else has ever changed about the cinema and he likes it that way .... in all its original, outdated, moldy, classic glory.

anyways, up with two film enthusiasts as parents and just about the easiest environment to learn about movies in general it’s really no wonder that ethan always dreamt of becoming a big hollywood director. he’d pull out his camera anywhere he went, filming little scenery shots, his friends talking, stray dogs eating and anything else he found worthwhile. he was a completely geek.

he got into UCLA with a scholarship for filmmaking and screenwriting but ended up dropping out and pursuing directing on his own. his first ever film was an absolute knockout at every film festival it was showcased in and he went on to win a spirit award for best director and being nominated for as oscar. ever since then his life has been a roller coaster of awards and amazing movies he’s either directed, produced, written or a combination of the three. 

hanging out with the big guns of hollywood has certainly refined his taste. he’s a lot more judgmental and short tempered than before, uninterested in ideas or conversations he doesn’t find remotely interesting. on the bright side he’s extremely creative, smart and cultured. Woke, if you will. he’s also a big perfectionist and won’t quit until something is done exactly how he wants it done. 

coming back into town he feels like a stranger, like the odd man out, as if over the years he broke the tether that connected him to this place and can’t seem to find it anymore. but he needed a break and his dad just passed away so he thought it’d be nice of him to come help his mom for a while ... breathe a simpler air than the one of hollywood and la. 

wanted connections: a childhood best friend that was also rly into movies, a girlfriend he left behind to go to college, a fling he would have whenever he’d come in and out of town in his early 20s, some kind of rival or enemy bc those are always fun. and MORE. ANYTHING. 

pinterest board ( i just started it so not much there yet ! )

✎⌠zoey deutch. female. she/her⌡❝ — well, look who’s just arrived ! if it isn’t the one and only mallory dunn. though, around here they’re known as the instigator. don’t tell ‘em i said this but the twenty one year old bartender kinda has a reputation of being unreliable and petulant. but y’know, they can be alluring and uninhibited too. typical gemini. anyways, welcome home and stay safe mal ! ❞ ↷  amanda. 19. she/her. gmt+1.

drug use, neglect and abuse trigger warning !!!

boy oh boy, yall bettle settle in your seats bc you’re in for a RIDE

this messy binch did not have it easy for most of her upbringing. without delving too much into more triggering subjects, she was taken from her drug addict parents and put into the foster system due to neglect. she was put in a number of foster homes but the families never rly cared abt her nor the other kids ... they just wanted to make bank of the financial support given to adopting families. the last foster home was the worst of all, to the extent she had to beat up the father with a bat as to not let him do ... things he shouldn’t be doing to children.

this would explain why at age 16, when she was told a nice family from misty hollow wanted to adopt a whole ass teenager she thought it was a prank or a sick joke. she did not believe it and even after she moved in she did everything to try and show them they shouldn’t keep her. but they did. and she’s never felt more loved in her life.

thing is, ever since mallory got to town she’s done nothing short of cause utter and complete havoc. straying good angelic teens from their rightful paths, leading married individuals ( read both male and female ) into the sinful hands of adultery, trespassing into abandoned locations, getting arrested for misdemeanors. 

no-one ever knows what to expect of her. she’s completely unreliable and too smart for her own good. she’s got a stellar intuiton and she’ll play you before you can even think about it. charming as can be when she wants to. loud mouthed, unhinged, moody.  drinking, doing drugs, having sex, keeping secrets. that’s the best description of mal i can give you.

oh and a completely useless detail: she refuses to wear anything other than high top chuck taylor converse. she has them in every color, pattern and even platforms. 

wanted connections: a total partner in crime, someone she corrupted, relationships that ended badly ( screams, tears, cheating, toxicity !! all the angst ), fwbs, the ‘i hate you but i can’t get enough of you pls answer my call i’m so horny’, someone whose marriage/engagement/relationship she broke off bc they cheated with her ( i love my lil homewrecker ), a yin to her yang ... and literally anything else. 

pinterest board.

if you made it this far you’re an absolute trouper and ily for it. if want any of those connections or any other you have in mind pls don’t hesitate to contact me !