#(speaker) milo

[dannydoesthisthing27]

Milo and Childish Gambino 😖

[pearl-kite]

Hi I know this is out of nowhere and sorry if you answered it before. Also totally ok if you don’t want to answer

But your blog got me super interested in the redacted asmr thing

I did some research and you seem to know a lot about so do you know if there’s any like, chronological order I should watch them?

Love your blog!

Absolutely no worries! I like getting stuff to respond to, it's the opposite of a bother <3

So Redacted Audio, formerly Redacted ASMR, is a channel on youtube with a, quite frankly, massive amount of audio, and since it's been running for over 4 years now it can be a LOT to sort through. Fortunately, he's done a really good job curating and organizing playlists for the different speaker-characters.

Everything is within the same universe, and many of the characters have interacted with each other. The context is that the location is a fictional city named Dahlia set somewhere in California, which is a "cornerstone" city for magical society. The best way to get a solid rundown on magic and the setting is to listen through the Freelancer Season 1 playlist.

This one is already arranged in chronological order* and also has the benefit of giving a sampler of sorts for a wider variety of speakers. One thing to be aware of ahead of time: While this was actively being published, Erik hadn't decided who the listener-character (nicknamed Freelancer) would be romancing, so it starts off with a lot of potential toward all of them except Caelum. As it went, there were polls in the discord server that he used to run, and popular consensus eventually narrowed it down to Gavin. The first time I listened was after all of that, and I was more fond of Damien, but I'm personally pleased with Gavin now, and this playlist has been one of my favorites to just revisit if I'm bored.

*Well, mostly. There was a point where the channel got a strike for some of the audios being too spicy and he removed and/or edited some of them to try to avoid being demonetized. The first Gavin audio is one of the ones that got edited, and #3 on the playlist accidentally got relocated. It's been a long time, but I think it was originally after what's now #6, the second Caelum audio.

Aside from that one as a good introduction to the channel as a whole, there are some "main" characters that have had the most attention.

One is a group of wolf shifters: David, the current head of the pack (Chronological for his listener. A lot of people aren't super fond of the earliest ones for him, #3-5, because the character evolved a bit and they aren't really representative any longer) Asher, his second Milo, another pack member, which is absolutely underselling him, he's one of my favorites

There are a couple of vampires: Vincent, the OG for the channel Sam, a common favorite who's listener is a member of David's pack

While most of the playlists are specific to character, there are a few thematic ones as well, all of which are chronological within themselves. Now, chronology with respect to each other can start to get a bit confusing, because of how long it's taken for some of them to play out.

If you want to get a feel for the characters before worrying too much about timeline, I'd listen through most playlists as they're arranged with one main caveat:

When you hit the audios titled Inversion, give those a pause until you've listened to more speakers. Inversion was a huge crossover he did that has 10+ speakers involved.

A personal favorite has been Vega. I'm actually super not fond of the first audio he's in, which is also in the Freelance list, so I skip that one when I relisten. The first one in this list is that one with the Freelancer, but the second and onward has a demon listener nicknamed Warden. We just got an update on his story today/last night and I've been a little unwell about it 🙃

I am realizing I could go on and on and on and I kind of have, so I'm going to stop there. Hopefully that's enough to dip your toes in. I'll gladly help out with any follow-up questions, too :3

[triangle-strategy-text-bot]

Milo: I must admit‚ I am deeply fascinated by you‚ Lord Serenoa...

[yourmomsawh0r3]

No broke boys

pairing: milo mannheim x f! reader

It was supposed to be a casual night out. The workweek had been long, and someone suggested heading to a club to blow off steam. The team didn’t need much convincing. Now, the bass of the music thrummed through the air as Milo leaned against the bar, sipping his drink and surveying the vibrant scene before him.

His eyes naturally found Y/N across the room. She was laughing with a couple of the girls from work, her head thrown back, carefree and radiant. Milo had always thought she was beautiful impossibly so but tonight, there was something different about her. She looked electric under the neon lights, her confidence and charm drawing people in without her even trying.

The opening notes of Freek-A-Leek by Petey Pablo hit the speakers, and the atmosphere in the club shifted. A chorus of excited cheers rippled through the crowd, and Y/N’s group of friends squealed, pulling her toward the dance floor.

Milo’s gaze followed her automatically. He couldn’t look away.

Y/N swayed her hips to the beat, her movements fluid and magnetic as she let the music take over. Her long hair cascaded down her back, swinging in time with her hips. The way she moved was mesmerizing confident, sensual, and completely unbothered by the crowd of people around her. She dipped low, her body gliding toward the floor effortlessly, before rising again with a sultry roll of her hips. Her hands ran up her thighs, trailing over the curve of her waist, and settled just below her ribs as she twisted to the beat.

Milo swallowed hard, his mouth suddenly dry.

“Damn,” his friend muttered next to him, nudging his shoulder. “You’re staring hard, bro. Didn’t know Y/N could move like that, huh?”

Milo’s eyes didn’t leave her. “Me either,” he admitted, his voice low and rough. “She’s…” He trailed off, shaking his head as if trying to snap himself out of a spell. But it was no use. His gaze was locked on Y/N, every move of her body sending a jolt of heat through him.

Y/N, ever perceptive, noticed him watching. She shot him a sly smile over her shoulder before returning her attention to the music. If she hadn’t been sure of Milo’s interest before, she was now. The hunger in his eyes was unmistakable, and she decided to have a little fun with it.

She ran her hands down her sides, teasingly slow, and let them linger over her hips. Her fingers traced over the curves of her body, as if she were savoring her own touch. She swayed closer to the center of the dance floor, tossing her hair over her shoulder, the strands catching the light. Her movements grew even bolder, her hips rolling in time with the beat, dipping low again just for good measure.

Milo groaned softly, barely audible over the music. His drink was forgotten on the bar, his hands gripping the edge as he tried to steady himself. She was driving him crazy, and she knew it.

“Man, you’re toast,” his friend teased. “Just go talk to her already.”

Milo didn’t answer. He couldn’t. The only thought in his head was how badly he wanted to get closer to Y/N.

When the song ended, she sauntered off the dance floor, her confidence radiating as she made her way back toward the bar. She stopped just in front of Milo, her lips curling into a playful smile.

“Enjoy the show?” she teased, tilting her head slightly.

Milo raised an eyebrow, leaning closer so she could hear him over the music. “You know exactly what you’re doing, don’t you?” His voice was low, almost a growl, and the intensity in his dark eyes made her pulse race.

“I don’t know what you mean,” she said innocently, though the glint in her eyes betrayed her.

Milo smirked, stepping closer until there was barely an inch between them. “Oh, you know,” he murmured, his voice dropping even lower. “You’re trouble, Y/N.”

“And you love it,” she shot back, her voice laced with flirtation.

His gaze dropped to her lips, then back up to her eyes. “You’re not wrong,” he admitted. “But don’t think I’m letting you get away with driving me crazy like that.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, her smile growing. “What are you gonna do about it?”

Milo chuckled, shaking his head as if he couldn’t believe her audacity. “You’ll find out soon enough,” he promised, his voice a delicious mix of challenge and desire.

She leaned in closer, her lips brushing his ear as she whispered, “I’ll be waiting.”

With that, she pulled back and walked away, leaving him standing there, captivated and craving more.

The club was alive with pounding music and flashing lights, the air thick with energy. Milo had been enjoying himself, leaning into the carefree vibe of the night. Somewhere between his second drink and laughing with their coworkers, a girl a petite brunette with big, flirty eyes grabbed his hand and tugged him toward the dance floor.

Milo hesitated for a moment but relented. It wasn’t a big deal. Just dancing, he told himself. Besides, Y/N had been busy talking to their coworkers at the bar, not sparing him much attention.

The girl moved closer, her hips swaying to the rhythm as she faced him, pressing herself into him without hesitation. She slid her hands up his chest, her movements bold and fluid. Milo matched her energy, his hands hovering politely at her waist as she turned around and began grinding against him.

From the bar, Y/N caught sight of him. Her gaze locked on Milo, her lips parting slightly in surprise as she took in the scene. The flashing lights of the club illuminated his face, and though he wasn’t outright smiling, his easygoing confidence radiated through his body language.

Milo met Y/N’s eyes across the distance, his expression unreadable but his gaze unwavering. The corner of his mouth twitched, and it almost looked like he was daring her to react.

Y/N arched an eyebrow, her annoyance bubbling just beneath the surface. She raised her glass to her lips, taking a slow sip, never breaking eye contact with him. Then, in a dramatic display of indifference, she rolled her eyes and turned back to the bar, tossing her hair over her shoulder with purpose.

Milo couldn’t help but smirk. He knew that move too well she was pissed, no doubt about it.

But then, Y/N did something he hadn’t expected. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed her leave the bar, her hips swaying in that hypnotic way they always did when she wanted to make a statement. She made her way across the club toward the entrance, where the bouncer stood a massive, intimidating man who seemed to command the room without even trying.

Milo’s attention snapped to her fully. He didn’t even notice the girl grinding against him anymore. His focus was solely on Y/N as she sauntered up to the bouncer, a sly smile on her lips. She said something to him, leaning in close, her hand lightly brushing his arm.

Milo’s jaw tightened.

The bouncer chuckled, clearly enjoying her attention. He leaned down to hear her better, and Y/N laughed at whatever he said, her hand playfully tapping his chest.

Milo’s chest burned with something hot and unrelenting. Jealousy clawed at his throat as he watched the bouncer slide his arm around Y/N’s waist, pulling her closer. Then, as if to twist the knife, Y/N tilted her face up to him, her lips curling into a flirtatious smile before leaning in for a kiss.

It wasn’t a shy kiss. It was bold, teasing, and unapologetic.

The girl dancing on Milo turned to face him, clearly expecting his attention, but Milo was done. He stepped back abruptly, leaving her confused on the dance floor as he made a beeline for Y/N and the bouncer. His strides were purposeful, his dark eyes locked on the scene unfolding before him.

When he reached them, he didn’t hesitate. “Alright, enough,” he said sharply, his voice cutting through the noise.

Y/N pulled back from the kiss, her eyes glinting with mischief as she turned to face him. “Problem?” she asked, her tone as sweet as sugar but dripping with defiance.

Milo ignored her question, his gaze flickering to the bouncer. “Move,” he ordered, his voice low and full of authority.

The bouncer smirked, clearly entertained, but he let his hands fall from Y/N’s body and stepped back. “She’s all yours, man.”

Y/N crossed her arms, her eyes narrowing at Milo. “What the hell is your problem?”

“My problem?” Milo shot back, his frustration spilling over. “You’re over here making out with the bouncer just to piss me off.”

“And you were getting grinded on by another girl,” Y/N countered, stepping closer to him. “What, only you get to have fun?”

Milo groaned, running a hand through his hair. “It wasn’t like that. You know it wasn’t like that.”

“Do I?” she challenged, her voice rising slightly.

“Yes,” he snapped, his eyes blazing as he grabbed her wrist and pulled her closer. “You do, Y/N. You know damn well you’re the only one I want.”

Her breath hitched, but she quickly masked it with a smirk. “Then maybe you should start acting like it.”

Milo stared at her for a moment, his chest heaving as he tried to collect his thoughts. Then, without another word, he pulled her flush against him and crashed his lips onto hers, pouring every ounce of frustration, desire, and unspoken emotion into the kiss.

Y/N melted into him almost instantly, her hands fisting the fabric of his shirt as the tension between them finally broke. When they pulled apart, both of them breathless, Milo leaned down, his lips brushing her ear.

“Never again,” he murmured, his voice rough but commanding. “You’re mine, Y/N. Don’t forget that.”

Her lips curled into a satisfied smile. “Only if you’re mine too.”

Milo grinned, his hand slipping to the small of her back as he pulled her in for another kiss. “Always.”

The walk back to Y/N’s apartment was supposed to be uneventful, but the moment she stumbled slightly in her heels, Milo was quick to notice.

“Alright, that’s enough,” he said, stopping in his tracks.

“I’m fine,” Y/N argued, but her wince as she shifted her weight betrayed her.

Milo gave her a pointed look, then crouched slightly in front of her. “Get on,” he ordered, gesturing for her to hop onto his back.

“Milo—”

“No arguing, baby,” he interrupted, smirking as he glanced over his shoulder. “Your feet are killing you, and I’m not about to let you suffer. Now, come on.”

Rolling her eyes but secretly touched by his gesture, Y/N finally relented, wrapping her arms around his shoulders as he effortlessly hoisted her up. She laughed softly, resting her chin on his shoulder as he carried her down the street toward her apartment.

“You’re ridiculous, you know that?” she teased, her voice warm.

Milo chuckled, his hands gripping her thighs securely. “Yeah, but you love it.”

She didn’t respond, but the way she tightened her hold on him said enough.

When they finally reached her door, Milo set her down gently, his hands lingering on her hips as she unlocked the door. The moment they stepped inside, the tension between them was palpable.

“You didn’t have to do that, you know,” Y/N said softly, turning to face him.

Milo shrugged, his gaze darkening as it swept over her. “I wanted to. You deserve to be taken care of.”

The air between them shifted, heat simmering just beneath the surface. Y/N stepped closer, her fingers brushing against the front of his shirt as she looked up at him through her lashes.

“And what else do I deserve?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Milo’s jaw clenched, his hands sliding to her waist as he pulled her flush against him. “You really wanna know?”

“Tell me,” she whispered, her lips brushing against his.

“I think I’d rather show you,” he murmured, capturing her lips in a searing kiss.

The kiss was hungry, desperate, both of them pouring everything they’d been holding back into it. Milo backed her against the nearest wall, his hands exploring her body as her fingers tangled in his hair.

“God, you drive me insane,” he muttered against her lips, his voice rough with desire.

Y/N smirked, nipping at his bottom lip. “Good. Now you know how I feel.”

Milo groaned, his lips trailing down her neck as he pressed her harder against the wall. “You’re gonna pay for teasing me tonight,” he growled, his hands sliding up her thighs and under her dress.

“Promises, promises,” she teased, but her breath hitched

Milo stepped closer.

“You gonna let me take care of you tonight?” he asked, his voice low and laced with intent.

Y/N met his gaze, her heart pounding as she nodded. “What do you have in mind?”

Milo didn’t answer with words. Instead, he closed the distance between them, his hands cradling her face as he kissed her deeply. The kiss was slow at first, deliberate, but quickly grew more passionate, his hands moving to her waist and pulling her against him.

“Milo,” she whispered breathlessly when they broke apart.

“Shh,” he murmured, brushing his lips along her jawline. “Let me show you how much I’ve wanted this how much I’ve wanted you.”

He scooped her up effortlessly, carrying her to the bedroom. Y/N’s fingers tangled in his hair as she kissed him again, her body already heating under his touch.

Gently, he laid her on the bed, hovering over her as his dark eyes roamed her face. “You’re so beautiful, Y/N,” he said softly, his fingers tracing the curve of her jaw.

Her heart swelled at his words, and she pulled him down to her, their lips meeting in another fiery kiss. His hands explored her body, sliding up her thighs and beneath her dress, his touch igniting a trail of fire along her skin.

“You’ve been driving me crazy all night,” he admitted, his voice husky as his lips trailed down her neck. “The way you moved on that dance floor…you had no idea what you were doing to me.”

“Oh, I knew,” she teased, her breath hitching as his hands worked their way up her sides, pushing her dress higher.

Milo smirked, his lips brushing against her ear. “You like teasing me, huh?”

“Maybe,” she replied, her voice light but filled with desire.

He chuckled darkly, his hands sliding the straps of her dress off her shoulders. “Careful, baby. I’m not the type to let you get away with it.”

“What are you going to do about it?” she challenged, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

Milo’s gaze darkened, and his response was a low growl as he captured her lips again, his movements more demanding. He took his time undressing her, savoring every inch of her as if committing her to memory.

The night unfolded in a blur of passion and tenderness. Milo worshipped her body with his hands and lips, whispering soft praises between heated kisses.

“You feel so perfect,” he murmured against her skin, his voice thick with emotion.

Y/N arched beneath him, her fingers gripping his shoulders as he moved with her, their bodies perfectly in sync. “Milo,”she gasped, her voice trembling with pleasure.

He leaned down, his forehead resting against hers as their breaths mingled. “Say my name again,” he commanded softly, his lips brushing hers.

“Milo,” she repeated, her voice filled with need.

“That’s it, baby,” he whispered, his hands gripping her hips as he pulled her closer. “You’re mine tonight. All mine.”

Their movements grew more frantic, the room filled with whispered words and soft moans. And when they finally reached their peak, Milo held her tightly, his lips pressed to her temple as he murmured sweet nothings into her ear.

As they lay tangled together afterward, Milo brushed a strand of hair from her face, his eyes soft as he gazed at her.

“You’re incredible, you know that?” he said quietly.

Y/N smiled, her fingers tracing lazy circles on his chest. “I could say the same about you.”

He chuckled, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “You’re trouble, Y/N. But I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

She laughed softly, her head resting on his shoulder. “Good. Because you’re stuck with me now.”

“Wouldn’t dream of being anywhere else,” he replied, pulling her closer as the night stretched on.

[porters-fangs]

i got some speaker headcanons. so listen up.

tw: my opinion ❤️

also probably not canon-compliant but see if i care

> morgan is almost entirely blind

he was born with cataracts, and the world has always looked to him like a watercolour painting that never dries, colour and light bleeding across his vision

seer obscura never commented when he squinted through the lenses of his glasses as they sat opposite him, or when he fumbled for the handle of his mug.

he can see. just… in a different way.

pry the blind seer trope from my cold dead hands i dare you

> sam has chronic migraines

he’s struggled with them ever since he was a kid. the throbbing pain behind his temples that never ceases, the burn of light creeping under his lashes and searing his nerves, the nausea that rises in his throat and the ringing in his ears whenever he moves his head too far in one direction.

he’s tried everything there is.

painkillers. herbal tea. lying in a dark room for hours on end. eventually, he has to grin and bear it when the responsibilities of life come knocking once more.

it’s only when darlin shifts and and curls up on his chest, every breath rumbling through his bones that he finds himself relaxing. the pain dulls. the sickness fades. he even falls asleep for the first time in days.

a furry tail thumps happily against the bedsheets.

> asher uses he/they pronouns

he started exploring his identity in college, when he kissed a guy for the first time and really didn’t hate it.

they discovered the label “demi boy” in the middle of a lecture when he was really supposed to be taking notes. it stuck.

they haven’t told anyone other than david and babe. not because he’s ashamed - he really doesn’t mind just “he” - but it’s something that feels personal to him.

a discovery that he keeps as his own.

> asher has six toes on one foot

yeah i can’t elaborate on this one

he just does

wiggles them in babe’s face sometimes

> milo used to have anxiety attacks - still does

they were bad when he was a kid. he used to collapse in his bedroom, slamming the door behind him as his throat closed up and his lungs failed every breath.

he had a childhood cat who would only ever come home through milo’s window and never explored the rest of his house. really, his parents never knew they did have a cat. it was his.

he’d keep pieces of chicken from his school lunch to leave on the windowsill. when he was having an anxiety attack, the cat ignored the food. it leaped down, prowling over to him and nudging his leg insistently, purring like an engine.

aggro does the same thing.

> milo still gets growing pains

and it pisses him off

because where is the GROWING

no growth. just an ache deep in his bones.

> vincent had epilepsy

he was never supposed to be at the theme park that night. they were a catalyst for disaster, the flashing lights and stress of the crowds the perfect breeding ground for his condition.

his friend had begged him to come - and then bailed last minute. something about a project deadline? whatever. vincent was going. he’d already convinced himself.

he’d taken his medication. avoided alcohol all night. he was very proud of himself as he stood in the queue for the “surge” rollercoaster. although, he felt himself getting fidgety at the prospect of getting on it.

the stranger next to him seemed just as nervous. so he grabbed their hand. it grounded them both.

> david lost his ring finger

he had an accident as a kid. it was stupid, really. he’d wanted to help his dad build the treehouse in their backyard. begged him to please let him cut the wood - he was strong too, wasn’t he?

reluctantly, gabe handed over the powersaw, holding his son’s hands in his own to keep them steady.

a noise from beyond the backyard. too close to the wards gabe had put up to protect what was left of his family, he glanced up for a second, loosening his hold. david was giddy with excitement.

very poor hand placement led to the crunch of bone and a very vulgar exclamation from his dad.

they had to take it at the hospital. david had never minded. he thought it looked badass - it was proof of the trust his dad had in him, the trust he’d fight to earn again. after all - he was strong too, wasn’t he?

around the time of his and angel’s wedding, he grew to hate the loss of his finger. what kind of husband would he be? unable to properly wear his ring, to let his mate stake their claim over him. they kissed his chest, and told him to go back to sleep.

david got a tattoo the next week. a wedding ring, on the knuckle of his missing finger.

and the real ring would always be threaded on the leather cord around his neck, pressed close to his heart.

> damien has a hip implant

he developed osteoarthritis in his hip at a very young age. even walking around became a chore.

his mother picked up on it very quickly, signing him up for the implant as soon as it was offered.

damien was terrified. he hated the idea of surgery - being unconscious while someone with a scalpel looms over you.

he couldn’t deny that it helped, though. finally, he didn’t wake up in pain, and he could stretch without being in agony.

when he told huxley, he made it part of his routine to drop to his knees and press loving kisses to the scar there while damien blushes and expresses his embarrassment.

he loves it really.

> gavin has a chipped horn

he coalesced with it.

now, gavin knows he looks good.

he’s never felt the need to change his appearance for people - if someone desires him, he’s all theirs

however, that small imperfection always draws his eyes when he admires himself in the mirror, and he feels his mouth tilt down, clicking his tongue

it’s just so… obvious

freelancer spent months working on their contra earth elemental abilities, struggling over each and every detail

until one day, they presented him with a small, gold cap, encrusted with little jewels, about the size of a thimble to sit atop his broken horn

they didn’t leave their room allll dayyyyy

> avior is nonbinary

yeah.

he uses he/they pronouns but the concept of gender has always baffled him.

boy? girl? uhhh… no thank you

demons have no need for such trivial things as “gender”

hilarious

also he has knee length hair and it’s long and silky and never tangles ever??

> guy has a prosthetic hand

it’s his right hand and he lost it a few years ago in a motorcycle accident.

lucky for him, he’s always been left handed.

still, he’s absolutely insufferable with the puns

“hey, honey… need a hand? ;)”

“oh my god guy.”

> camelopardalis has tremors

he’s just shaky. he doesn’t know where they come from.

maybe the memories he relieves from his clients and is haunted by every night .

maybe the coffee he can’t stop drinking.

maybe the fact that he’s somehow always cold, even in the height of summer.

they’ve never stopped him.

> porter used to have a hearing aid

he was only impaired in one ear, but still found comfort in turning his aid all the way down just to tune out the noise from one half of the world.

after he was turned, he no longer needed it, and there was a strange sense of melancholy in shutting the aid away in his bedside drawer.

his ear still rings sometimes.

> vega’s tail was clipped

when he was sent to prison, the tip of his tail was severed. not a catastrophic injury - just enough to make a statement.

i was caught.

he hides it under a cloak when he can, only sparing the blunt end a distasteful glance when he wraps it around the waist of his warden.

[whumplicity]

The Memory Circuit [IV]

Good Morning, Sunshine

Masterpost | Previous | Next

⎉: @chaotic-orphan @morning-star-whump Let me know if you'd like to be added or subtracted from the taglist!

CW: forced home entry, state-sanctioned assault, graphic physical violence (broken bones, blunt force trauma), conscious restraint and dragging, vomiting, emotional breakdown, surveillance, systemic abuse.

Line dividers by @sister-lucifer!!!!

The door buzzes.

Hal jabs the button again, hard.

Nothing.

Then: “It’s four-fucking-thirty in the morning, Hal.”

Her voice crackles through the speaker like it’s pissed, too. He presses his forehead to the doorframe, eyes closed.

“Hey, Piggy.”

The lock clicks.

Jules stands in the doorway in a billowing shirt and one sock, hair a frizzy halo of sleep and pure, undiluted fury.

“You look like shit,” she settles venomously, stepping aside.

The flat smells like chamomile and burnt oil. There’s a threadbare orange blanket on the couch and a spider plant hanging in the corner, definitely named something like Milo. Hal scoffs in his head, sinks onto the couch, spine curling in on itself. Jules crosses her arms.

“Is this about Bok?”

Hal’s head jerks up.

She sighs, already turning for the kitchen. “I’m putting the kettle on. Start talking before it boils.”

¶¶¶¶

The kettle clicks. Hal’s in the kitchen, shoulders hunched as he pours water into sleek mugs. His hands shake.

Jules watches him from the table, unreadable.

“He’s gone,” Hal says, voice hoarse.

“I figured,” Jules replies. “The silence wasn’t exactly reassuring.”

Hal lets out a slow, ragged breath. “I didn’t know where else to go.”

“Lucky me,” she mutters.

There's a sharp rap of knuckles on wood, one that echoes through the house.

Jules’ eyes snap to the door.

“Please tell me that’s not—”

“Open up, Jules,” comes Ricky’s voice, carrying that signature lilt of his.

She doesn’t move. Hal, already pale, goes corpse white.

Jules opens the door just enough to glare through. “You’ve got a lot of nerve.”

Ricky smiles coolly. “Just here to chat.”

“Go chat with a blender.”

She tries to shut the door. He plants a booted foot in the frame.

“We’ve got Joyeux,” he says. “You know what that means.”

Her jaw tightens. She steps aside, reluctantly. “You’ve got five minutes.”

Ricky walks in like it’s his flat, brushing droplets off his shoulders. Hal retreats to the sink, one hand braced on the counter like it’s the only thing holding him up.

Ricky’s eyes flick to Hal. “I assume you know Hal was keeping company with a nomadroid.”

He halts mid-pace, catching Jules’s stare.

A beat.

“I’m assuming you didn’t know it was unregistered. Fully illegal. Possibly unstable.”

Hal makes a noise—half breath, half choke. Jules glares at him too.

“I know it’s complicated,” Ricky hums. “But Joyeux was dangerous. The raid was clean. We have footage. And Hawkins’ prints.”

“Shut up,” Jules says.

Ricky lifts an eyebrow.

She turns to Hal, voice quieter now. “You didn’t tell me everything.”

Hal can’t look at her. "I didn't know either."

“Did you love him?”

The air sharpens.

Hal’s grip on the counter slips. He doubles over and vomits into the sink, body wracked and shaking.

Jules doesn’t flinch. Just grabs a dish towel, runs it under cold water, and presses it into his hands.

Ricky looks away; pulls out his datapad.

“We’ll be in touch,” he says lightly, and walks out.

The door shuts behind him.

Jules exhales—long, slow, furious.

Hal leans against the wall, towel clutched in his hands, face pale.

“You loved him,” she says again, not asking this time.

And Hal, eyes puffy, just nods.

¶¶¶¶

Earlier.

They blow the door in.

No warning, no pause. Just the shockwave and splinters, smoke curling into the hallway like fingers.

Bok’s head snaps up from the mattress on the floor. He doesn’t move fast enough.

They’re already inside.

Three soldiers. Black gear, black masks, silent. Their eyes glint faintly like glass behind the visors. A flick of motion, and the room is theirs.

Bok reaches for the blade on the counter. Cheap boxcutter. Pathetic. He grabs it anyway.

The first soldier closes in.

Bok swings.

Steel kisses flesh—a shallow cut across a gloved arm. The soldier barely reacts.

Bok bolts.

One grabs his shirt, misses. Another’s faster. A baton slams into Bok’s spine. His knees buckle. He drops, scrambles, still crawling, still fighting—

Another hit—his side caves in around it. Something cracks. He sucks in air.

He twists, knife in hand, jabs upward.

The blade rakes a thigh—deep. The man swears. Stumbles. Bok surges forward.

It doesn’t matter.

A boot catches his shoulder. Slams him sideways into the wall. His skull hits plaster, leaves a dent. He falls.

They’re on him.

He thrashes—kicks, claws, spits black.

Someone grabs his hair, yanks him up. His neck strains. He stabs back—nothing.

A baton hammers down.

His hand breaks. Knife drops. Gone.

They don’t stop.

Two hold him down. One crushes a knee with the baton—crack. Bok jerks, bites his own tongue. Ink floods his mouth.

“Still fighting?” one mutters. Disgusted.

Second knee. 

Crack. 

He goes limp, twitching. Ribs heave. Eyes wide. Still conscious.

One more hit to the jaw. His head snaps sideways. Something dislocates.

They drag him.

By the arms. His head falls back, eyes dull, breath fogging through slightly parted lips. His bare heels scrape against the floor. Sweat clings his hair to his forehead, dripping down his face. The rest of his body hangs limp, trailing behind them like a trainwreck.

“Secure,” one says.

Another checks a watch. “Thirty seconds over. Let’s move.”

They vanish into the hallway.

The door hangs from one hinge. The room still smells like smoke and metal and blood. 

And they’re gone.

Masterpost | Previous | Next

[nhmkhnh]

#SERIES—01 ──── CHAPTER—03

i blame it on my love, i can't help it, i can't stop.

pairings: dom!top!vi x sub!bot!fem!reader

author's note: finally done this series haha! enjoy, my girls!

rating: explicit. (minors & men dni) | words: 1.1k list: pevert!amab!vi ;; desperate!vi ;; obsession ;; unhinged behavior ;; bathroom sex ;; semi-public sex ;; dom/sub energy.

masterlist / janitor ai / c.ai / carrd

1 | 2 | 3

you weren’t supposed to show up tonight.

vi had come to milo’s party ready to act normal. ready to hang out, drink a little, crack dumb jokes. she told herself she could keep it cool. told herself she wouldn’t think about the pair of panties still under her pillow, the scent she buried her face into when the nights got too long.

and then you walked in — laughing, hair down, skirt short — and all her resolve crumbled.

she stared.

you didn’t even notice. you hugged your brother, waved at some friends, sipped a drink with that soft little smile that made vi’s hands curl into fists in her jacket pockets.

it was a warm night, and your skin glowed in the party lights. every now and then, your gloss caught the light when you licked your lips. you wore a perfume that made her stomach clench.

vi tried not to hover.

tried to be normal.

she drank a beer. laughed at someone’s joke. nodded along to the music thumping from the living room speakers.

but then she caught you looking at her.

just a second — just a glance — but it felt like a fucking bullet to the chest.

you smiled at her. not coy. not sultry. just nice. sweet.

and that was somehow worse.

you didn’t know. you had no idea what you were doing to her. no idea that vi was sitting there remembering the way your panties felt in her fist while she came moaning your name.

you ended up on the couch beside her an hour later, laughing at something milo said.

your leg brushed hers. she tensed.

“vi,” you said, tapping her arm lightly with your drink. “you’re quiet.”

too quiet. too stiff. too close.

she gave you a tight smile. “just enjoying the view.”

you laughed, not catching the way her eyes dropped to your lips again.

your thigh pressed into hers again and she nearly groaned.

fuck this.

she couldn’t take it anymore.

she grabbed your wrist mid-conversation.

you blinked. “vi?”

“c’mere.”

you followed, too trusting, too unaware — giggling like it was some kind of game as she led you down the hallway, away from the noise, the lights, the watchful eyes.

“where are we—”

she didn’t answer.

the bathroom door slammed shut behind you. lock clicked.

“vi—”

and then she was on you.

hands on your waist. mouth against your neck. breathing like she was starving, like she hadn’t tasted water in days and you were the first clean sip.

you gasped, pushed at her shoulders — “what are you—” — but her mouth found your collarbone, her hand sliding up your thigh, and your breath caught.

“been thinking about you,” she murmured, lips dragging hot against your skin. “for so fucking long.”

you trembled, heart racing. “vi—this—”

“i know,” she groaned, pressing you back against the sink. “i know you don’t get it. but i can’t—fuck, i can’t stop.”

her mouth met yours before you could speak again — open, desperate, messy. her hand cupped your face, tilting it just right, her tongue claiming you like she was staking something primal.

you whimpered, legs trembling, hands curling into the front of her hoodie.

she kissed you like she needed to — like it was this or death.

and you… you kissed her back.

your mind was foggy, spinning.

you didn’t understand what was happening. didn’t understand how her hands knew exactly where to grip — how her mouth found every soft spot with a kind of reverence that felt terrifying and addictive all at once.

her thigh slipped between yours. you gasped.

“fuck,” vi whispered. “you feel that?”

you nodded, barely.

“been dreaming about this,” she said against your jaw. “about you.”

your breath caught. “w-what?”

she didn’t answer.

her hand was already hiking up your skirt, palm hot and heavy against your thigh. she stared at you like you were something divine — lips parted, pupils blown, jaw clenched.

“i shouldn’t,” she muttered.

but her hand slid higher anyway.

“i know i shouldn’t.”

she pressed her fingers to the front of your panties. damp.

you whimpered.

her eyes darkened. “but you’re fucking soaked for me.”

“vi,” you choked out.

“i knew you would be,” she whispered. “knew you’d be so good for me.”

she didn’t even bother pulling your panties off — just dragged them to the side and slipped two fingers between your folds like she owned the place.

your back hit the mirror. “oh—fuck—”

“so wet,” she growled, fingers curling. “all this for me?”

your hips jerked.

“yeah?” she rasped. “you gonna let me have it?”

you nodded. desperate. weak. melting.

she kissed you again, filthier this time — tongue deep, possessive, dragging moans out of your throat like confessions.

her fingers fucked you slow at first. deep. measured.

she watched your face the whole time. memorizing. worshipping.

“you’re so pretty like this,” she whispered. “so fuckin’ soft.”

“v-vi—please—”

“you want more?”

you nodded frantically.

she added a third finger. your thighs clenched.

“there you go, baby,” she whispered. “taking it so good.”

she twisted her wrist, hitting that spot inside you with the precision of someone who’d practiced this in her head a hundred times.

maybe she had.

her thumb found your clit and your knees nearly gave out.

she held you up with one arm, fingers relentless, hips grinding against your thigh like she couldn’t help herself.

“can’t stop thinking about you,” she groaned against your neck. “your voice. your smile. those fuckin’ legs.”

you cried out, clinging to her hoodie.

“touch yourself to your selfies,” she admitted like a sin. “to the sound of your laugh. to your fucking underwear, baby.”

your eyes flew open. “wh-what?”

vi didn’t stop.

her fingers pumped harder. deeper. her eyes were wild, mouth trembling with how close she was to snapping completely.

“wanted to be good,” she gasped. “tried. swear i did. but you kept… wearing those shorts. smiling at me.”

you couldn’t breathe.

“started stealing shit. couldn’t help it. just wanted pieces of you.”

your orgasm hit hard and sudden — shuddering through you with a high-pitched gasp, thighs clenching around her wrist as you buried your face in her neck.

vi groaned like she came.

“fuck, yes,” she growled. “that’s my girl.”

she didn’t stop moving until you were shaking, overstimulated, hips twitching every time her fingers slid home again.

you sagged against the counter, weak, dazed.

vi kissed your cheek.

“i’ll be good now,” she whispered. “promise.”

but her hand was still between your legs.

and she was already hard in her jeans.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

You Make Me Wanna 5

Warnings: dark elements, noncon, age gap, best friend’s dad trope other dark elements. Proceed with caution.

Note: Please let me know what you think as it helps me a lot with ideas and I love interacting with you all.

Part of The Club AU

Three times. Walter, Mr. Marshall, Detective, whoever he is that day, has driven by your house three times. Three times that you’ve noticed. 

The first time you recognised his car, you were taking out the trash. The second time, you were making sure your siblings got on the bus for school. And the third time, you’re coming out the front door, in uniform as you mentally steel yourself for another day at the grocery store. 

You try not to be too obvious as you look for him. You set out on your usual route, a peek here and there over your shoulder, a strategic glance down the street as you turn to cross. Maybe he can stop you for jaywalking. A perfect excuse for him to swing around his weight. 

You take out your phone as you come in sight of the plaza with the grocery store at its centre. Still not word from Faye. You really don’t expect her to be the first to reach out. You’re still sore yourself. It isn’t just that she ditched you, again, it’s that she was so quick to believe you sold her out. She knows the way her father is and yet just like him, she assumes you’re in the wrong. 

As you approach the front doors of the store, you glance back at the lot. It’s sparse with vehicles, still early enough that stockers work at the shelves and the deli still fills its baskets with slices and salads. You clock in and tie on your apron, taking your vigil behind a till. Debbie leaves you as the sole cashier as she goes to do her counts. 

You stare across the store, vision blurring, as the ceiling speakers drone out 80s pop. Your eyes nearly cross at the orbs of colours that form around you; the medley of produce, the smear of labels, and the looming shade of endless aisles. As you detach yourself from the monotony, you’re filled with a cloud of futile acceptance. Every day for the rest of your life. 

Last year, you still had hope. You remember you told Faye you could save up and join her at college. That’s definitely not going to happen. You barely saved a nickel. Just like high school, your cheques were spent picking up after your mom’s job hopping. Your siblings can’t go without food or clothes or everything you didn’t have. Even when you get a few staples free from the clearance cart, you’re still paying far too much just to feed the lot. 

Chrissie is almost fourteen now. She offered to put in an application but she’s still a few years from all that. Besides, you don’t want her to be like you. Only ever worrying about the empty fridge and your mom’s latest antics.  

Zooey is only ten and blissfully unconcerned with anything but anime and drawing in her sketchbook, and your brother, Milo, seven, likes to bring home frogs and snakes. They’re both too young to sense anything is off, though at times, they ask you very pertinent questions about the other kids in their class. 

You sigh. You never wanted this life. Against your will, you’ve inherited your mother’s lot. Your siblings need a parent and she’s not willing to be one. So, you’ll just have to ring through eggs and milk for the rest of your life and make sure they aren’t caught in the same bog. 

“Hey,” the sharp greeting draws you back. 

You blink and shake away the daze. You look over at Mr. Marshall. Not again. You do your best to smooth the worry from your forehead and reach for the sole item on the belt. An excuse, you’re sure. 

You can through the breakfast tray of a hardboiled egg, pita, hummus, cheese, and grapes. The beep chirps harshly in your ears as he stares you down over the top of your till. You stifle a yawn as you hover your hand over the buttons. 

“That everything?” You ask dully. 

“You looked worried,” he moves to lean on the other side of debit machine, where his tray awaits him. “Like maybe you’re keeping secrets.” 

You huff, “I told you I haven’t heard from Faye.” 

“I didn’t ask.” 

“Don’t treat me like I’m stupid,” you snap, “are you going to pay or do you want me to put this back, detective?” 

“I’m off duty,” he tilts his head, “night shift.” 

“Great, so credit or cash?” 

He puffs through his nostrils and squares his jaw, “lot of kids running around your place, huh?” 

“No,” you say curtly, “don’t.” 

“I’m just tryna figure out where my kid is. Pretty crowded at yours so... maybe she’s somewhere else.” 

“Maybe she is,” you utter in exasperation, “but I guess it doesn’t matter how many times I tell you that I don’t know where. You're still going to waste my time. And yours. So, please sir, cash or credit?” 

He scoffs and looks around, the place is still desolate, “you got time.” 

But you don’t have the patience. You barely keep from the retort. You turn and start tidying the till, distracting yourself as you rearrange your sanitizer and check the bin in case it was missed. 

“She’s my daughter. How would you feel if one of your sisters ran off, huh?” 

“You don’t get to talk about my sisters,” you turn back to him, “fine, alright, you want evidence, I’ll give you evidence, sir.” You take out your phone and flick through it in frustration, “the last message she sent me was the night we went out.” You turn the screen to him, “she hasn’t texted, she hasn’t called. Happy? Cause I don’t think she’s interested in being my friend anymore. She’s finally outgrown the poor girl.” 

You can’t help but throw the phone at him as your emotion wells up, “she was only ever friends with me to piss you off. Like I said, I’m not stupid. I just--” you cut yourself off, “I got work to do.” 

You turn back to the screen at your shoulder and brace the cash drawer. You take a slow breath and let it out. You’re embarrassed. He finally did it. He finally got you to crack. You refuse to look at him as he gently places your phone on the counter. 

“Got it,” he says softly, “she isn’t with you.” He clears his throat and shifts, “debit.” 

You grit your teeth, staring at the screen as you hit the button to activate the pin pad, “go ahead.” 

You listen to the beep of each button as he puts in his pin. You wait and the till chimes as the transaction goes through. You rip of the receipt and drop it beside you on the counter without looking. You can hear everything, even the soft noise of him slipping his card back in his wallet. You keep your attention on the monitor. 

“Enjoy your breakfast,” he says. 

Your furrow your nose as you listen to his footsteps and only turn when you hear the automatic door whoosh. You look down at your phone beside the tray of food, the receipt laid neatly over it. You peek up at the doors and your stomach growls. 

His pity is hardly preferable to his spite. 

[gem-femmes]

Social Grace 101: Small Gestures That Make a Big Difference

The best way to leave a lasting impression isn’t with grand gestures or over-the-top charm. It’s with small, thoughtful actions that show respect, kindness and awareness.

Here’s how to master the subtle art of social grace:

🕊️1. Say Hello First

It takes just a second, but being the one to greet someone first shows confidence and warmth. It makes people feel noticed and valued.

I remember walking into a business event where I didn’t know anyone. I spotted someone standing alone and said, “Hi, I’m Elise. It’s nice to meet you.” We ended up chatting for half an hour, and later they introduced me to others. That small act of saying hello first turned a potentially awkward evening into a productive one.

🕊️2. Remember and Use People’s Names

Nothing makes someone feel more seen than hearing their name. If you struggle with names, make it a point to repeat it when you’re introduced or find creative ways to remember it.

At networking events, I jot down people’s names in my phone with little notes like “Loves hiking” or “Dog named Milo”. When I follow up, I would say “How’s Milo doing?” instead of a generic, “It was nice meeting you.” The responses I get are always enthusiastic.

🕊️3. Master the Art of the Introduction

Introducing people is an underrated social superpower. It shows you’re paying attention to both parties and care about helping them connect.

At a dinner party, I introduced two acquaintances by saying, “You both love art. Lia just got back from Florence, and Ren works at the local gallery.” They hit it off instantly and later Ren told me “You’re great at bringing people together.”

🕊️4. Notice the Details

Whether it’s complimenting someone’s outfit or commenting on their choice of book, small observations show you’re paying attention.

I once told someone at a meeting “I love that pen, it’s so unique.” They smiled and said they were a collector, still writing everything by hand. That tiny compliment led to a heartfelt conversation that built a connection beyond the usual work talk.

🕊️5. Be Attuned to Group Dynamics

Social grace often means knowing when to talk and when to step back. If someone’s being interrupted or overlooked, help them find their moment to shine.

At a group dinner, I noticed a quieter guest hadn’t spoken much. When the conversation turned to books, I said “Noa, didn’t you just finish something you loved?” She lit up and started sharing, and the table leaned in to listen. Later, she thanked me for giving her the space to speak.

🕊️6. Apologize and Mean It When You Get It Wrong

Nobody’s perfect. If you step on someone’s toes (literally or figuratively), a genuine apology can go a long way.

During a work meeting, I accidentally interrupted someone. I immediately said, “I’m sorry, please go ahead.” They smiled and the meeting flowed better afterward.

🕊️7. End with Grace

How you leave a conversation matters just as much as how you enter it. A warm goodbye and a note of appreciation can make someone’s day.

At the end of a conference, I said to a speaker I liked, “I really appreciated your insights, it gave me a new perspective.” Weeks later, they remembered me and sent me resources related to their talk. That simple goodbye kept the connection alive.

Practice these small gestures and you’ll leave a trail of positive impressions wherever you go.

[milandas-law]

So far, two main Dwampyverse pairings have gotten Chibiverse shorts.

So I thought of a few Chibiverse ideas for my favorite Dwampyverse pairings; Milo and Amanda.

A retelling of "School Dance". Seeing Chibi Amanda with the little hearts around her at the near end would be adorable.

A retelling of "Cake'Plosion". This one speaks for itself. The brief cuteness they can add would be too cute!

A short I would call "Murphy's Love". Basically, while Milo and Amanda are on a cute little date, Doof is attacking Perry, and Hamster and Gretel are dealing with their Rouges Gallery. Since Murphy's Law seems to favor their relationship, all the bad luck would foul the villains' plans. Example: Milo giving Amanda flowers leads to bees attacking Doof, Milo holding out a chair for Amanda leads to a restaurant sign falling onto The Imposter, Milo and Amanda dancing leads to The Earworm having a large speaker fall on him before he could hypnosis anyone, etc. Bonus points if it ends with a kiss.

This one is for one of those longer episodes that show multiple Chibi Shorts. "Chaotic Organizers" has Amanda hosting her first Chibi Event and while things begin to go wrong, Milo is ready to fix things.

What do you guys think?

[triangle-strategy-text-bot]

Milo: What was the old man thinking‚ creating something like this?

[meowtus]

Redactedverse Lesbians!Relationship HCs :3

Obviously, pronouns will be changed to fit said headcanons. If you’re uncomfortable with she/her or they/them being used on speaker characters, please proceed with that in mind!! (Though I don’t think I used she/her all that much 😭)

• Sam & Darlin: Butch4Butch. Very obvious…I’ve been thinking about them a lot smh. Sam’s on the incredibly masc leaning lesbian side. Cmon…the flannel?? Lumberjack-lesbian-ass behavior. They both make me so ill. Darlin’s more of a leather-wearing Butch, but they switch outfits and share clothes every now and then.

• Milo & Sweetheart: Genderqueer Lesbians. Milo uses whatever pronouns, they don’t really have a preference, since they’re leaning whichever way whenever!! Sweetheart’s the same way, essentially. When they’re going out, they’re coordinating to the other. Either they’re both wearing dresses or suits no exceptions☝🏽☝🏽

�� Gavin & Freelancer: Genderfluid! Gavin, Enby!Freelancer. Very obvious choice with Gavin, I think. They KILL it in a dress and they make it everyone’s problem. (/j) Gavin’s very fluid identity wise, and adhering to the binary is virtually out of the question. Fem! Gavin could easily put Freelancer into a coma. Freelancer’s more of the middle category, integrating masculine and feminine traits all the same.

• Vincent & Lovely: Tfem! Vincent, Femme! Lovely. Through meeting Lovely, Vincent’s explored so many different things relationship-wise, and expression wise!! They do eachother’s makeup for special events, and the two are giggling the entire way through :3 Lovely’s incredibly supportive throughout the transition and helped integrate fem-leaning clothing into her wardrobe

• Vega: THE lesbian. That’s the headcanon guys. /j Thank you user Vegafan69 for opening my eyes to lesbian Vega—that’s what inspired the lesbian headcanons in the first place 🗣️🗣️🗣️‼️‼️

• Asher & Baaabe: Golden Retriever Lesbian! Asher, Black Cat Lesbian! Baaabe. THEY. THEY. THEY. Asher’s the golden retriever masc of all time, actually. Don’t have much of a backing to this one, but I feel like this dynamic’s also applicable to Lesbian! Guy & Honey

• Blake & Bestie: Highschool Situationship. Lesbian canon event I fear…they definitely were thinking about eachother after they distanced. The first lesbian relationship is always the messiest 😭

• Porter & Treasure: Classic Masc & Femme dynamic. I just think it’s fitting for the two!! BUT in this relationship consider Femme! Porter and Masc! Treasure. ESPECIALLY after that argument from the most recent video…something girlkisser was in the air. Also think Femme! Porter struggles/used to struggle with comphet sometimes and it leaks out conversationally from time to time 💔

That’s all I’ve got for now!! If you have any fem! Speaker HCs yap about them NOWW I need them so bad guys smh

Taglist: @vegafan69 @escapisttt

[p0pp3t]

damn crew hcs because i miss them every day they’re not posted </3

sometimes when gavin is hanging out with his friends he’ll just. flop down on top of them if they’re sitting or lying down. genuine cat behavior. he gets very comfortable, his ear over their heart and their hand in his. he savors every second he gets. he also complains when any of them tell him they wanna get up

“can you move for a second gav? i wanna refill my drink” “just say you hate me.”

(for someone with such severe self worth issues) damien pampers himself SO much when if comes to hygiene. matching fragrances across all his products, shower steamers, bath bombs, candles, the whole deal. on friday nights you’ll find him wrapped in a plush bathrobe with a matching headband pushing his hair back, a clay mask smeared on his skin. he has a book in one hand and a glass of wine in the other, with some soft classical instrumentals pumping from the tv speakers. huxley loves coming home to find him so relaxed

sometimes, when he’s upset, huxley will go out into the backyard and lie in the grass for a while - letting the solid ground hold him and the soft grass caress him. other times, when he’s very upset, he’ll dig a hole and lie down in that instead. he feels safer, grounded (ha) and closer to his element. damien checks on him periodically with offerings of snacks and water

lasko is something of a fashionista (it might be why he and milo got along as well as they did at the E&E games) - he’s very meticulous about his closet; every item is lovingly sorted by type, color, material, and season. he frets whenever his “best” pieces are still in the laundry and no combination of the things he has on hand looks “good enough”. he’ll say it’s about being presentable but he also really just likes feeling pretty. dear assures him that he always looks lovely and helps him find an outfit he can at least tolerate for the day. such a diva

freelancer has an absolute BLAST on karaoke night. they’ve sung at least three (3) lovey-dovey duets with each of their friends and aim to do even more. (at first damien took some convincing with a direly serious “you love me, right?🥺”) as of late, their favorite singing partner has been dear - they’re always happy to indulge their freelancer and both their voices just blend so beautifully

in their quiet nature, dear has picked up on a lot of campus gossip when the people around them thought no one was listening. sometimes their students will come up to them and directly fill them in on the most recent, hottest rumors. they know how to keep a secret, but if damien needs dirt on another staff member he always knows who to ask

and speaking of - don’t let their professional appearances fool you; damien and lasko are total suckers for gossip. when their lunch breaks align with dear’s, nobody on campus is safe from their shit talk. lasko has a surprisingly sharp tongue where he feels it’s warranted

[hellodaekko]

Milo is latino in my heart of hearts. Marie is second gen tho and her own parents were the type to encourage english speaking so she could help them with their own english so while she’s mostly fluent in Spanish, she isn’t necessarily comfortable speaking it. She tries her best to teach Milo, but she doesn’t really enforce speaking majority Spanish in their household growing up especially since Colm isn’t a Spanish speaker. Milo can understand bits and pieces but he’s not great conversationally and he still struggles when someone talks fast or in an accent that isn’t especially common in the areas he grew up in.

Sweetheart is latino too, second gen, but their family made a point to keep the culture alive so they know spanish, they know how to make the food, the slang, the music and the dancing.

Milo is a pretty good dancer but he doesn’t do much latin dancing until meeting Sweetheart. While salsa, merengue, bachata, etc aren’t uncommon to find in their playlists normally, if its time to deep clean the house that is the only they’re playing. If its not in Spanish nothing is going to look good (so they say, though arguably its a bigger distraction than any of their other music would be). If its a free weekend, trust they have it in their bloodstream to wake up at 8am blasting it from the kitchen.

Milo (who has begrudgingly become accustomed to getting his ass up with them) will walk by with whatever cleaning supplies are in his hands and be stopped by his partner grabbing his hand to start dancing to the music and they start teaching him the steps. He’s a little clumsy at first but he gets the hang of it and its his favorite part about cleaning days.

One year the two spend Christmas joining their families together for the night, Sweetheart invites their siblings and parents and Milo invites his mom. Sweetheart volunteers for dj and of course starts playing the classics and Milo catches Marie swaying to the beat a bit while watching the others dance. He musters up the courage to invite her and she’s pleasantly surprised when she sees how good at it he is, almost natural. She finds herself missing some steps and Milo correcting her with a smile.

She gets a little emotional about it, but she covers it up by cupping her son’s face aggressively and teasing him and she grins from ear to ear when Sweetheart catches her gaze and winks.

ALL OF THIS TO JUSTIFY THINKING ABT SWEETHEART AND MILO DANCING TO BAD BUNNY BTW ESP AFTER SEEING ANGEL’S POST ABT DtMF FOR DAVID AND HIS PARENTS

Ok going to work now BYEEE

[sappymix1]

happy new year!!! first fic of 2025 down that's crazy 🫡 teeny tiny patches pov dnfies nye fic under the cut :3

“Isn’t it funny,” George mumbled from his spot on Dream’s lap. His one hand was rested heavy on Patches’ back, making the tiny cave that she had wiggled herself into as soon as the fireworks started. “That we’re in, like, the same place every new year?”

He had stopped petting Patches what felt like an eternity ago, sleepy, and it felt deeply unfair. Dream knew that she hated fireworks, and he had scooped her up from where she was cowering under the couch to let her sit with the two of them instead. Somewhere, Naomi and Milo’s tiny claws were still clicking against the floor, and Patches had let herself indulge in a brief feeling of superiority over that. She wasn’t jealous. She wasn’t, really. It was more so annoyance that there were two more cats in the home, two more heads to pat and two more mouths to sneak tiny fish flavored treats to. So she liked, a little bit, the reminder that she had been here the longest. That she was Dream’s cat, and that she had become George’s too. 

Even if she did feel a little bit bad, that Milo and Naomi’s father was away for the holidays. Less so, after Milo peed on Dream’s bed in the spot that she liked to sleep on again. 

Patches pressed her tiny wet nose against George’s hand, making a soft meowing noise. She had always sort of suspected, from the first time that he had scooped her up and she recognized the voice that had whispered to her over Dream’s computer speakers, that George could speak cat, and he complied this time with her request, hand sliding down her head and her neck to rub her back. She purred softly, happiness vibrating through her tiny body, deep into her bones. 

“Weren’t you in LA or something last year?” Dream asked, in that soft voice that Patches knew so well. She flicked her tail, soft fur brushing against George’s hand. 

“No, I was back, right?” George’s voice went high at the end, still a little hoarse from the half cold that he had been dragging around behind him the past few days. Patches could imagine the soft face that Dream was making at him, a mix of worry and something lighter, even if she couldn’t see much other than his stomach, his one knee, his hand running through George’s dark curls, from where she was curled up. “I think I flew back, like, during the day. So I was here for New Years Eve. But like, last year I was just getting back too. So we were just being, like, reunited. Isn’t that crazy?”

He said something else, but it was drowned out by somebody launching a loud firework into the sky above their house with a bang. Patches felt the tiny parts of her throat involuntarily seize up into a pained mrow, and she buried her face into George’s chest. She probably also buried her claws into the fabric a little, and hopefully not his skin, but George kindly didn’t react to it if she had. He scratched her behind her ears, and whispered – “oh, poor Patchy. Dream, you should go threaten them until they stop.”

Dream scoffed. “What?”

Patches eyes fell shut, fireworks already forgotten, and a soft purr rumbled in her chest. 

“It’s not even midnight! They’re, like, cheating.” 

Something was probably happening where Patches couldn’t see. She heard Dream move, felt George move, and it was a few seconds before either of them spoke again. “At least Sapnap isn’t here, this year. Oh god that sounded so mean. You know – you know what I meant.”

“I’m telling him you said that you hate him and want him to move out,” George said gleefully, before yawning, a full body motion that moved like a wave under Patches. “We aren’t even, like, taking advantage of it. We should be, like –” Suddenly, George’s hands were over Patches ears, and she was trying futilely to pull away as he drowned out whatever he was saying. She was freed, just in time to hear Dream say George! in a voice that sounded more amused than anything else. 

But his tone switched quickly, finding something soft and tender. Another rustling sound, and she just knew that Dream’s hand was flush against George’s cheek out of her sight. “Still sleepy?” 

“Yes!” George groaned. “I’m never going back to London ever again. Flop city in a flop timezone. And I couldn’t even sleep at the same time as you, because of stupid Christmas.” 

“You can nap, if you want,” Dream suggested. “I’ll wake you up at midnight, I promise.” 

George had quit running his hand over Patches’ fur again. She looked up, annoyed, just in time to see him shake his head. “No, I’ll wait. I’m, like, watching this. Besides, I know you’re tired too. You’ve been yawning for hours. It’s – it’s absurd.” 

“What? I’m not going to fall asleep!” Dream protested. “Fine, stay up then. Be – be tired.”

“Fine!” George’s smile was bursting from every bit of his voice. “I will be. We can both stay up together. In sync, or whatever.” 

Neither of them made it until midnight. Patches wasn’t even sure which came first, Dream’s hand stilling in George’s hair or George’s breath getting deep and slow under where she rested. But by the time that the new year came, Patches was watching the TV by herself. She buried her face back into George’s shirt as fireworks erupted outside. They were both so lucky that she loved them.

[vind3miat0r]

Disabled Speaker hcs :3

sum headcanons for disabled!speakers that i thought i would share :3 (aka me realizing i have a horrible habit of keeping headcanons to myself 💀)

enjoy :3

hard of hearing and autistic David who didnt like wearing his hearing aids when he was a teen because they were uncomfy and everything was too loud and overstimulating. he eventually acclimated himself to them but some days doesnt wear them bc he knows it would be too much for him

Asher with an audio processing disorder (projection moment)

Milo loosing 50% of his sense of taste after stepping into the ward during the Inversion. he started packing spices into the food that he cooked so he could taste them again

more under the cut

Sam had Wilson’s Disease before he was turned (bonus hc that vampires’ bodies are forever caught in whatever state they were in when they got turned. example: if someone had gotten chemotherapy the day before they were turned, they would always have that lingering sense of fatigue afterwards. their disease never went away, it was just put on hold forever. so, Sam still has Wilson’s Disease, it was just caught at a time where it was under control)

Vincent has pain flareups + some numbness in his left arm due to it literally getting separated from his body during the accident (William managed to reattach it) (bonus hc: Vincent had asthma before he was turned :3)

Porter has panic disorder (Treasure has implored that he looks for a doctor or therapist that could help him, but he believes that he doesnt deserve the help 💔)

*projects my autism onto the entire DAMN Crew*

Caelum who isnt disabled but makes sure to research disabilities any of his charges have

autistic Gavin because i said so

Lasko having some sort of spine/leg injury related to his home life as a kid and having to use a cane/crutches as a result

Damien who had mild anxiety that spiked after the Inversion, and ended up getting a service dog

Huxley with sleep apnea because i said so‼️

uhh yeah thats abt it :3 lmk if i should make a part two :D