#mechanical parts 7 days to die

[technologybunker]

How To Get 30 Mechanical Parts in 60 SECONDS in 7 Days to Die

Glorious Mechanical Parts🧰 3. Craft or Buy (a.k.a. The “I’m Desperate” Method)Option A: Craft Mechanical PartsOption B: Buy from TradersWhy It’s Meh:🪑 2. Dismantle Office Chairs, AC Units & Random JunkWhat to Wrench:Tools Required:Why It’s Decent:The Catch:🚗 1. Scrap Full Cars for Engines, Then Scrap the Engines (A.K.A. The Mechanical Parts Goldmine)Here’s the Play:Why It’s God-Tier:Extra…

[novthirty]

🐦‍⬛ OUT OF BOUNDS — you get isekai-d into the n109 zone [chapter one]

synopsis — the monotony of your university days is interrupted by a stroke of misfortune, one which lands you in the world of love and deepspace, the game you had been casually playing for the previous months. with no way to return home, sylus offers you the job of being his personal secretary. — a continuation of the one-shot “out of bounds”

pairing — sylus x non-mc! reader

tags — reader is not mc, isekai/transmigration, fluff, angst, mutual pining, slice of life, boss/employee relationship, slow burn

a/n — oh how i wish to leave my academically rigorous life and get isekai-d… next chapter will be sometime next week as i’m on the brink with finals (the class average on the exam is 7/45 we are not okay) i might not reply to all comments but i want u to know i see all of them n blush & kick my feet every time 🥰

ao3 | masterlist | requests are open! series masterlist | part two

chapter one: descent — after finding yourself in an unfortunate accident, you wake up in the world of love and deepspace. you go from burned out college student to secretary at your wit's end. wc: 4k

January snow falls on your tongue, plumes of warm air escaping your breath into the cold. It was just your luck to get saddled with a 7 PM class this semester, relegated to walking home in the late winter chill. You clutch your bag tighter as you walk down the desolate road, devoid of any streetlights— when a vehicle swerves and crashes into you. The impact is that of a sledgehammer to your body, as you hear the crunch of glass and the snap of bones. 

This is the end, you think, as the world around you blurs into nothingness. 

—————————————————————

You rise to consciousness upon hearing a steady, mechanical beeping— and promptly have a panic attack upon seeing the IV attached to your arm. You feel yourself hyperventilating, the heart rate monitor crashing as a triad of nurses comes in to restrain you. You desperately thrash against their hold, trying to remove the intrusive line from your body, but it’s no use; your injuries and the numerous drugs running through your system hamper your movements. You hear muffled explanations— inaudible to your clouded mind— before they decide to sedate you. You drift back into slumber. 

Sometime later, you wake up again, this time with the IV detached and a familiar face sitting casually by your bedside. You do a double take at the silver-haired man. And you laugh. You must be in some sort of dream or coma-induced hallucination. Because why was Sylus, a love interest from Love and Deepspace— the game you have been obsessed with for the past few months— sitting here in flesh and blood? You say as much, and he deigns you with the response, “Did you sustain brain damage on top of your other injuries?”

You shake your head at the absurdity of your delusions, quickly falling back into a medically-induced sleep. Things should be back to normal when you wake up.

—————————————————————

Newsflash: they weren’t. As days passed, you gradually had to accept that— whether reality or not— you were going to be stuck here until you figured out how to return to your world. 

Sylus visits you from time to time, the strange girl who landed in his backyard and claims to be from another world. It turns out that the place you’ve woken up in is not a hospital, but Onychinus’s medical ward. Your conversations are minimal, mostly veiled threats as he questions your intentions and identity. “I’ll give you one last chance,” He exhales in frustration as he interrogates you for the hundredth time, “To explain why you’ve trespassed here, before I decide for myself.” 

“…I didn’t want to die?” You answer meekly. You don’t have the heart to tell him he’s not being as menacing as he thinks he is, hovering over a patient confined to their hospital bed. You take a spoonful of your pudding when he looks away. Better than hospital food back home, at least.

There's little you can say that won’t make him think you’ve gone mad. But, maybe you are. A strong part of you believes that any moment, you’ll be waking up in a padded room, wearing a straitjacket.

You spend your days drifting in and out of sleep, staring out the window into the underbelly of the N109 Zone. Each day you awaken to the sight of the dark cityscape fills you with disappointment and dread, as you realize this may not be a dream. You miss the warmth of your own bed. You miss the soft daylight streaming into your apartment. (You miss home.) 

When you’ve healed enough to be discharged, you have nowhere to go. So you turn to the only person you’re familiar with in this world.  

You corner him in the hallway outside your room, dressed in the ill-fitting clothes given to you. (The ones you wore during the accident couldn’t be salvaged, they said, handing the torn and bloody garments to you. Your only possessions in this world, now ruined.) You fidget with your hands, daring yourself to look him in the eye. “I don't have a lot of work experience, but…” You earnestly list off all of the projects and internships you’ve undertaken in the previous years, selling your skills with the desperation of someone who has nowhere else to go. 

You were just a college student, months away from graduation before you found yourself here. Your life was tiring; an endless backlog of readings and back-to-back assignments waiting for you at the end of each day, the pressure to succeed constantly weighing down on your conscience. But despite it all, it was a fulfilling life; working every day to the bone in order to achieve your dreams. 

Now, it fills you with spite— how everything you had worked hard for was taken away in the blink of an eye. But you push the bitterness aside, offering whatever skills you have to Sylus so he doesn’t kick you out. You know that this world isn’t kind, the N109 Zone being one of the worst places you could have ended up. A normal civilian such as you wouldn’t be able to survive here alone.

You don’t spare a breath until the very end of your spiel, “—and, it would only have to be until I find a way to return home,” You finish. All the while, you’re hiding your anxiety; because how exactly do you get home? (A part of you cruelly whispers: if you can.) 

“Pretty please?” You add with a grimace, when the silence becomes overwhelming. 

He looks at you with cruel amusement, chin tilted down like a king with a peasant at his feet. The Sylus of Love and Deepspace may have been a devoted lover, but the man in front of you now is a cold and ruthless criminal. He takes a step forward— you think he plans to rid you from his sight, when he says, “Don’t make me regret it.” 

—————————————————————

Though you don’t have much to contribute to a criminal organization, you’re grateful when Sylus offers you the job of his personal secretary. 

The past few weeks before the accident had been spent in the post-holiday rush of schoolwork. With only your job to keep you occupied now, you’ve never found yourself with so much time on your hands. Years of building time management skills helps you to cope with the high-paced nature of this world, so you put your whole blood, sweat, and tears into this job, repaying Sylus’s generosity with your efforts to earn your keep around here. 

As his personal assistant, you have no precedent to follow because Sylus just… does everything on his own. Despite the number of minions and associates he has at his disposal, when it comes to his personal business, Sylus is a one-man army. So, you insert yourself into his workflow and commandeer his schedule; the man doesn’t even have a calendar, for crying out loud. Although you don’t have much work experience, your previous internships and methodical nature help you to excel at this job. Never has the leader of Onychinus been so…. organized, his colleagues and associates observe the stark change in the following months. 

“Miss Secretary,” Luke and Kieran affectionately call you, “What’s your secret to dealing with the bossman?” They ask, in dramatically hushed whispers. 

Sylus was untouchable— unrivaled at his job— which often enabled his imperious disregard for everyone else’s time and patience. Being late or completely missing meetings if something he deems more important arises (an auction for a vintage record is not something you deem important enough over an executive meeting), expecting his minions to accomplish the impossible in a matter of days. “I did the heavy lifting, surely you can manage the scraps,” He drawls from his leather, ergonomic chair, looking bored to bits. 

Though you already knew this from your time playing the game, it was different to experience it, and extremely more difficult to tolerate.

But you’ve dealt with worse in the form of freeloader group mates and hard-headed cousins. Over time, you whip him up to shape, scolding him when he arrives late to meetings, making sure he actually calls back when he says he will. “And what if I don't?” He asked with an edged smile on his face, the first time you admonished him. 

As you learned with your experience with children over the years: disappointment hits harder than anger. You cross your arms, holding back your true frustration. “Well, you’d be making mine and everyone else’s job ten times harder. And I would think much less of you.” You thought you’d get sacked the moment the words came out of your mouth. 

But instead, momentary shock flitted through his eyes— a slow, amused smirk spreading across his face. “Well, I can't have my lovely secretary think so lowly of me, now can I?” He gave you a demeaning pat on the head, your irritation coming back in full swing. 

Over time, you grow to have a deeper respect for Sylus and how he runs Onychinus. He surprisingly takes criticism very well. At least, when it comes from you. You vividly remember the time he used his evol on an associate who dared to criticize his business practices. (He was being rude, anyway.) Neither is he the type to exaggerate his capabilities, easily admitting to his limitations. “I suppose I’ll have to learn then,” Is his attitude when it comes to his shortcomings, and you admire it. 

However, none of this stops him from being a bastard from time to time and making your job harder than it needed to be.

—————————————————————

Once Sylus started entrusting you with more responsibilities, you started handling his work line. His business partners now call his office to be greeted by a chirpy voice, “You’ve reached the Onychinus hotline, how may I help you? Oh, Sylus isn’t here right now. Would you like to leave a message?”

This especially came in handy when certain little rats wouldn’t stop bothering him on the phone. “You want to know if he’ll attend the anniversary ball on the 21st?” You made eye contact with him across the room. He immediately shook his head, as he caught wind of the brown-nosing colleague who couldn’t take a hint. “He’s not here right now, unfortunately. I'll get back to you through email as soon as I can.” (You never did.) 

Another new responsibility you’ve been given is to mediate dissatisfied clients. You’re surprisingly good at it; sometimes he wonders if you’ve taken some sort of PR training before. With how you handle these grown men acting like children without offending them, you’re either the most patient person to exist or very discreetly planning murder. He would’ve just resorted to threats of maiming (and execution of said threats when necessary). It makes things a lot easier since— according to you— his abrasive personality creates more problems than necessary. 

He initially gave you this job as more of a placeholder role, so you can occupy yourself with the illusion of real responsibility while he investigates his suspicions about you. Where did you come from? Who sent you? And most importantly, how did you manage to infiltrate his base right under his nose? But his investigation leads him to the simple truth: there was nothing on you. It’s as if you materialized from thin air. No records, no blood ties, no evidence of your existence before you walked into his life. 

But if reincarnation can be fact, and dragons more than legends, why deny the possibility of other realities? This, more than anything, makes him inclined to believe your claims. 

Besides, you’ve proven yourself to be… useful, he can admit. You easily adjust to his nocturnal schedule; like another little crow chirping from his shoulder at all times of the day. 

“Chop chop, Sylus! You have a 9 o’clock meeting at The Nest and it’s already 8:30,” You storm into his office to remind him. You can count on both hands the number of times you’ve had to overhaul his schedule into oblivion because of a single missed meeting. 

“Don’t worry, dear,” He idly spins in his chair, with no intention of leaving anytime soon. “It’ll only take me fifteen minutes.” 

You whipped your head at him in alarm, “I’d rather you not break the speed limits to get there on time.”

It takes you one look at his daily schedule to nag him about his more concerning eating habits, even going so far as to ask his preferred meals to inform the chefs in advance. “Are you going to explain to me why you’ve spent two whole hours on a single meal?” You sit across from him at the table; stunned would be an understatement at how you feel seeing all the empty plates surrounding him. 

He huffs. It’s not his fault his more… draconic habits carried over into this life. ���Can I not even have my lunch in peace?” 

“At least space your meals out. Or eat dinner. You’re going to get hunger pangs before you go to bed, at this rate.”

Sometimes, you even resort to physically forcing him out of his office the moment noon hits, in an attempt to prevent him from overworking, “Sun’s up, boss. It’s time to hit the sack.” He’s long since learned not to fight you on this. Even if your attempts to push at his back are puny, at best. 

Your days together go by in this peacefully chaotic nature; your presence likening to a storm that has come to uproot his life. He pays you egregious amounts of money to make his job easier, and in turn, you make sure he’s fed, well-rested, and most importantly, aware of his goddamn schedule. 

It helps that your office is connected to his, although it's less a room and more an alcove he cleared away when he gave you the job. You have a small desk, a fluffy swivel chair, and a shelf covered in the trinkets you spend your salary on. (Another thing you have in common with Mephisto, he notes to the ever-growing list.) 

He could shut the doors to your “reception area,” as he likes to call it, but he finds amusement to idly watch you during his downtime. Your desk is in the perfect position to observe you from the corner of his eye. It had been a strategic decision, when he knew nothing of you or your intentions. Now, it’s become a pastime for him to watch you and your silly habits. Twirling the strands of your hair and chewing your pen, as you talk on the phone about weapons shipments and insuring someone who lost a finger in an operation. 

He’s not accustomed to being in such close quarters with someone, to letting someone into the crevices of his life. Yet slowly but surely, you weave your way into not only his work, but into the threads of his everyday existence. You leave your mark all throughout his home; from small trinkets magically finding their way onto random surfaces, your sweater claiming its new home on the couch armrest, a new mug in your favorite color left in the kitchen sink. Sometimes he can tell you’ve just left a room, when he inhales the lingering traces of your perfume. 

Your presence slips its way into that of his found family, too. The moment you laid eyes on Mephisto, the mechanical crow had immediately claimed a soft spot in your heart. You affectionately call him Mephie. From feeding him tiny bites of your dinner (he doesn’t have the heart to tell you he can’t digest food), to finding shiny trinkets such as coins and jewelry to add to his collection, you’re very close to displacing Sylus as the crow’s favorite in the house. 

Despite only being a few years older than Luke and Kieran— the exact middle between their and Sylus’s age— you both indulge and scold them. You join in on their pranks (you’re often the key to setting it up, what with your way around his schedule) but become extremely disappointed if their fun results in collateral damage; from a broken vase, to a rescheduled mission. Similar to Sylus, you keep them in check but stand right alongside them in the chaos. 

Contradictory to his initial expectations, you prove yourself in a professional capacity and cement your place in the ranks of Onychinus.

—————————————————————

The snow melts and spring creeps in, marking three months since you found yourself in this strange new world. Most days feel like a haze to you. Your secretarial duties keep your mind occupied, leaving little room for sorrow to settle in. But when you clock out and are left in solitude, your thoughts become your worst enemy. For that, you linger around the base a lot. Commandeering the kitchen to make midnight snacks, playing cards with Luke and Kieran in the living room, bothering Sylus when he’s cleaning his quarters. You toe the line for how much sleep you need to make it through the day— a bit hypocritical, you admit, given how you scold Sylus when he works at his office late into the night.

Misguided as it was, maybe it was a drop of fortune that you found yourself in his world. You’ve read stories of being transported to other worlds— of lions, witches, and wardrobes; of tornados, munchkins, and wicked witches. But the rabbit hole you’ve fallen down has been nothing like those tumultuous journeys. Your days in the office are warm and lovely— far from the crazed rush of deadlines and youthful chase of dreams you were living out in university, but a quiet contentment, nonetheless. Over time, you find yourself growing attached to the new life you’ve built, to the new family you’ve found. 

But the moment your head hits the pillow, it is the image of your family glued to the back of your eyelids. You see them worried sick about your disappearance, posting missing papers and wondering where you are, if you’ve become another statistic. (You don’t want to face the possibility that they may not be worried at all. That they may know exactly where you are, buried you there themselves.) For every smile and moment of laughter is a whisper in the back of your mind: Don’t you miss us? Don’t you miss home? 

You invest all your guilt and spare energy into combing through the hoard of resources at your disposal. The reach of your information is almost endless, with Onychinus being the reigning authority in the N109 Zone (and secretly, some cities, too). Yet, there’s nothing. Your search feels futile, each failed lead adding to your ever-growing hopelessness. 

During the day, no one would know any better; with how you hide your inner turmoil, composing yourself into your role as Sylus’s secretary. But your ghosts ambush you into the night. Nightmares plague you throughout your intermittent slumber, as you constantly arise from vivid memories of the accident and of your past life (of waking up and finding yourself six feet underground). Your anxieties have evolved from a restlessness to return to a growing fear of what might await you. 

One night, you find yourself near-suffocating under plush sheets, thrashing as you dream of dirt piling on top of you. Sorrowful figures shoveling you into the ground and muffling your pleas, I'm here. I'm still here. Your terror carries over into reality, a scream leaving your throat as you jolt up in bed, once again finding the sight of the cityscape before you— now a source of comfort, rather than despair.

An imaginative mind is a gift at best, and haunts you at worst. You stumble as you leave your bed, heart racing and the fictional taste of dirt still in your mouth. You feel that you will vomit if you stay here, in sweat soaked sheets and stuffy air. So you grab a coat and make your way to the rooftop, where you find that someone had the same thought as you.

“Can’t sleep?” Sylus asks with his back turned, having sensed your presence before you could make yourself known.

You ignore his question, breathing in the dew and the early March air, breezing past even in the barren cityscape of the N109 Zone. “It's late, why aren’t you in bed?”

“Why aren’t you?” He retorts, scooting over in a silent invitation. You shiver as you take a seat beside him on the cold metal bench.

“It’s nothing, really,” You shake your head, voice trembling as you try to voice the terror that had taken over you, “Just nightmares, you know. They happen sometimes…” 

Bathed under soft moonlight, he quietly admits, “I understand. I get them, too. I often find myself here when I can't go back to sleep, when it feels too stifling inside.” 

“Before, I used to be mad at myself for falling asleep. I had to pull a lot of all-nighters for college, back then,” You explain, hitting your feet against the metal leg of the bench. “There were only so many hours in a day, but so much left to do… It’s ironic. Now that I want to sleep, I can't.” You laugh, but it’s hollow and empty. 

“What is it that you dream about?” 

You muse upon it, “Home. My family and friends. I dream of my childhood home a lot, but those are the good dreams. But then there are ones about all the things I'll need to catch up with at university, when I return,” Everything you have lost. Everything that was taken away from you. You laugh, thinking about it, “Those are the real nightmares. My to-do list is going to be taller than me once I get back. But what about you?”

A bittersweet smile paints his face, “Oh, the usual. Just about everything I've done wrong in my existence.”

You gasp dramatically, slamming a fist to your chest, “The great ole’ Sylus, ruler of all that breathes and crawls in the zone, feeling guilt?”

“Now, now, let’s not get ahead of ourselves.” He playfully rolls his eyes, before turning somber once again, “I feel regret, maybe, at what I could have done differently. Sometimes I dream of turning back time.” He dreams of his days inside the chapel, a short refuge within a terrible era of this world. Is it so wrong that he wishes to return to it? To live within that bubble of peace forever? 

“That’s interesting. I don't know if anything would change if I could turn back time… I have a feeling I'd still be where I am.” Unease grows within you the more time passes. That however hard you try, you are bound to the direction you’re headed in. (That you have been for a while.)

The conversation settles into a comfortable silence, as the two of you gaze at the nocturne before you. You stare into the sea of lights glittering below, headlights and neon signs glowing within the city that never rests. They blur together, these lights. Soft colors of blue, green, red, growing ever duller until you find yourself falling back into a peaceful slumber. 

—————————————————————

He sits in quiet tranquility, your slumbering figure resting on his shoulder, the smell of your shampoo overwhelming his senses. Once you’re sound asleep, he carries you back to your bedroom, careful not to disturb the long sought-for sleep you had just achieved.

What was once a potential threat is now precious cargo in his arms, muttering incomprehensible murmurs in her sleep. How can someone be so harmless and lovely? He thinks, brushing aside your stray wisps of hair. As he walks down the opulent halls of his home, he muses on how, like a storm rolling in, you have swept your way into his life. He lays you in your bed, tucking you gently underneath the cotton sheets. 

It happens here, during the first breath of spring after winter, as he gazes upon your soft form. For the first time in a millennia, he feels the quiet stirrings of his heart, beating for something he cannot yet name. 

—————————————————————

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[kunasthiast]

jumpsuits and motors (1)

summary: when one visit to his usual mechanic changed his life for the better… or not? especially when the mechanic he had in mind to check his car wasn’t you – the one who is unbelievably unimpressed by who the fuck he is. and now, you’re on his mind 24/7  – right next to his narcissistic tendencies and thoughts of only him and his precious baby (his car).

pairings: sukuna x reader (female) genre/warnings: sukuna is an arrogant, cocky, bratty asshole, racer AU, mechanic AU, underground street car racing, reader’s a mechanic (currently studying engineering), fluff, future smut, attempt at humor word count: 3.2k All characters are of age. This story is 18+. Minors don't interact.

taglist is still open for those who wanna be added!

masterlist

part one > part two

The thrill of the chase. The pulse of adrenaline. The deafening roar of the crowd after every victory.  This is what Sukuna lives for. This is what he’d die for.

And this weekend, he’s gonna risk it all.

As an undefeated underground street racer, Sukuna’s days revolve around training, fine-tuning his technique – or whatever else you call it – and making sure his car is in always in peak condition. Every week, without fail, he brings his baby to his shop – the only one he trusts.

This time, though, he’s not just racing anyone.

His opponent? Gojo Satoru. The cocky, loudmouthed idiot who’s been his biggest rival – and his biggest pain in the ass.

For months, Gojo’s been running his mouth about how he’s gonna take the win. Please, when he sees Sukuna, he never fails to mention it. Every. Single. Fucking. Time. And always with that damn smug smirk and a wink, just to piss him off.

“Who’s faster between you two?”

Sukuna’s response? Always the same: “Why even ask when you already know?”

And yet, Gojo never lets it slide.“Nah, I’d win.”

It takes a lot of everything in Sukuna not to punch this stupid idiot square in the jaw. And being the calm, cool, collected one (of course) Sukuna settles for flipping Gojo off instead. Yup, this pink-haired dude is highly confident he’ll win this coming race, maintaining his undefeated history and finally break off his rival’s win history. 

This race? It’s his.

Easy, as always.

With one week to go, his red Audi R8 purrs down the highway, weaving through traffic effortlessly as he heads to his one and only favorite shop – the one place that keeps his car in top condition, no exceptions. He pulls into the garage, kills the engine and steps out – only to find the place empty.

Frowning, he tucks his keys into his pocket and crosses his arms. He knows he booked his baby's checkup. He’s fucking meticulous about this shit.

Just as his irritation bubbles over, a voice calls out from the pantry.

“Uh, we’re closed!”

Sukuna’s brow twitched. The fuck?

“What do you mean it’s closed? I have a scheduled appointment,” he shouts back, which by the way is very obviously annoyed.

Footsteps shuffled and a moment later, you walked into view, casually biting into a cinnamon roll. You’re in a navy-blue jumpsuit, the top half tied around your waist, revealing a black tank top clinging to your frame. And, your trusty 5-year old scuffed-up boots – clearly well-loved – to complete the look.

“Chill out, cutie,” you say between bites. “I definitely sent everyone a message this morning that we’re closed today. Maybe you just forgot to check your phone?” You continued chewing on your cinnamon roll – without missing a beat – even offered this pink-haired hottie your half-eaten cinnamon roll, “Hmm, this one’s good. Want some?”

Sukuna deadpan stared at you. Cutie? Yep, his irritation spikes. So does his curiosity. Because you? You’re fucking hot. 

Ignoring your snack offer – he’s not a fan of sweets – he pulls out his phone. Sure enough, a message from the shop sits unread. This pulls out a groan from him. Shit. He really should’ve checked his phone before driving out here.

“Why are you even closed today?” He mutters, shoving his phone back in his pocket. “I need my car checked today.”

You take another bite, unfazed. “Suit yourself, I’ll just have all the rolls to myself. Dad’s out running errands. I’m the only one here.” 

Sukuna’s barely listening now. He’s watching you. The way you’re leaning against the workbench, the grease stains on your arms, the way your jumpsuit sits low on your hips.

And – fuck.

Pink hair or not, he know he looks intimidating. People usually tread lightly around him. Even the mechanics here. Even his competitors. Even people who walk past by him on the streets. 

But you? You’re standing there, eating a damn cinnamon roll, calling him cutie, and acting like you don’t know exactly who he is.

Not a fan of awkward situations, you continued chewing on your pastry and observing this hottie. He’s wearing a tight black shirt and gray sweatpants which clearly outlined his sexy, muscular physique. He has a cute fluff of pink hair, too, that’s surely something you didn’t expect for someone with an intimidating demeanor and face tattoos. You thought, he’s kinda cute and hot, why have you only seen him today? 

Sukuna knows you’re gawking at him. He notices everyone looking at him. Every time. 

Naturally, his lips curl into a smirk. “What, in love with me already?”

You snort mid-bite. “Please.” 

Unbothered, you finished eating your damn cinnamon roll, then turn on your heel, walking back toward the pantry, clearly ignoring what he just said and replied back with, “You are kinda cute, though.” 

Oh.

Sukuna blinks. That’s… not what he expected.

And, fuck, he likes this attitude of yours. 

He follows you inside, eyes locked on your back. Who even are you, he thought and realized. “Wait a second. You’re Akira’s daughter?! I didn’t even know he had a daughter.”

You glance over your shoulder.  “Uh, yeah? I work here, what else would I be doing here?” You reach into the small fridge with your ass clearly hanging in front of him, rummaging for another drink. “Soda or beer?” 

“Soda. I’m driving,” he says, but he’s not thinking about the drink. He’s openly staring and thinking about the way you’re bent over, ass sticking out, completely unaware of the perverted thoughts running through his head.

He forces himself to look away, leaning against the wall as you toss him a can.

“What kinda work you do here, then?”

“Mechanic.” You went to the other side of the room to sit down at the table and pop open your drink to take a sip.

Sukuna nearly chokes as he’s sipping on his soda. “You’re a mechanic?!” 

Arching an eyebrow, you were offended. “What, that hard to believe?”

He scoffs, eyeing you up and down. “Didn’t expect that. Why don’t you just check my car then?”

“Nope, I’m off duty!” You chuckled and winked. “Just wait for my dad.” You then grabbed your phone on the table and opened it to scroll through your messages, checking if you got any update from your dad on when he’ll be back. Yup, no updates.

You just sent a message to your dad to update him about the mysterious, sexy man’s presence in the garage. Yes, he’s very sexy.

You what time will u be back? pink haired boy’s here to see u says he got weekly car checkups & can’t miss it 9:02AM

“Anyway, who are you? What’s up with the weekly car check up?” You said, looking at him. He was eyeing the room idly and turned his eyes to you while taking another sip of his soda and raised his eyebrows, “You don’t know me?”

“Uh, should I?” You snorted, clearly finding his confident aura interesting. 

“I’m the best street car racer in this city. Undefeated. Sukuna, King of the Tracks. Ring a bell?” Sukuna said as he fixes his stance and threw the soda can on the trash can near the fridge. He’s staring at you with a smoldering smirk.

“… Nope” You blinked. Yeah, you really don’t know him, heck, it’s your first time meeting him! You thought.

“Unbelievable! You work in a shop that caters to race cars, and you haven’t even heard of me? This has been my go-to shop ever since I’ve started like 5 years ago.” He said with a chortle and clearly showing his disbelief on his face, his smoldering smirk faltering into a teasing grin. 

You gave him a light chuckle and shrugged your shoulders while flashing Sukuna a smile, “Sorry to burst your bubble, I haven’t had the time to keep up with local street-racing celebs. ‘Sides, fixing cars is more fun than racing them.”

He snorts at this. “Blasphemy.”

“You’re one to talk, Mr. ‘King of the Tracks.’ And, I just started this job a year ago.” You admitted with an emphasis on air quotes.

Sukuna feigns offense at this. But before he can argue, your phone buzzes – it’s a message from your dad.

Mecha Boss meeting’s running late be back in an hour don’t touch his car  9:05AM

You tch, yea yea not like i was gonna    T^T 9:07AM

You sigh dramatically after sending your dad a text. “Dad’s gonna be back in an hour. He said he’ll check your baby by then.” You said to Sukuna with an eye roll as you close your phone.

“Why don’t you check it?” Sukuna perked up out of curiosity.

“I can’t trust myself with supercars, alright? Even dad.” Yes, you were sulking about it.

Sukuna watches you, amusement flickering in his gaze. “What, afraid of supercars?”

“Nope. Just extra careful. If I screw up, you could crash and die. Not something I wanna have on my conscience.” You ruffled your hair into a tousled mess thinking about the possible life and death consequences when you do touch a fucking supercar.

Sukuna chuckles at your animated response and gave you a fucking wink, “Damn. Didn’t know you cared so much about my safety, princess.” 

This left you gaping at him with your eyes twitching, “The audacity –”

He laughs. Full, deep, cocky as hell.

“Don’cha worry, sweetheart, I got a pretty good track record of staying alive.” His voice was practically dripping with smugness, his eyes gleaming with that devil-may-care charm he wore so well.

You rolled your eyes, but the corner of your lips betrayed you, twitching upward. “Yeah, right, Mr. ‘Undefeated King of the Tracks’.” You threw in a set of air quotes for good measure.

That earned another laugh from him, a rich sound that made something in your chest tighten – not that you’d admit it. “Yeah, I think it’s better you don’t touch my car,” he finally conceded, grinning like he’d just let you win.

As his laughter faded, you shook your head, more amused than you wanted to be. Cocky, arrogant, insufferably confident – but there was something about him. Something magnetic.

“Alright,” you replied with a playful smirk, letting the subject of his car checkup drop – for now. “I'll make sure to steer clear of your precious baby.”

Sukuna leaned back against the wall, arms crossed over his broad chest, watching you like he was trying to figure something out. “You know,” he said, his voice dripping lower, more thoughtful now, “I didn't expect to find someone like you here.”

You raised an eyebrow, curious about what he meant. “Someone like me?”

His smirk softened just a fraction, turning into something more curious. “Yeah. Someone who's not impressed by the usual flashy cars and racing scene.” His gaze flickered over you, assessing. "You're different. Refreshing, even."

Sukuna's words lingered in the air, and you found yourself drawn to the genuine curiosity in his eyes. There was a playful edge to his demeanor that you couldn't ignore.

“Refreshing, huh?” you echoed as you met his gaze with a coy smile playing on your lips. “Well, I'll take that as a compliment, coming from the 'King of the Tracks' himself. I just like fixing cars and stuff.”

Sukuna lets out a low chuckle, a hint of admiration shining in his eyes. “Trust me, it's not a title I give out lightly,” he mused, voice laced with something undeniably flirtatious. “But you? You're in a league of your own.”

Rolling your eyes and waved him off. “Flattery’s cute and all, but that’s really a bold claim coming from you.” You then remembered that you brought your knapsack today and looked for it. As you see it, you pulled it out and fished around inside for your laptop.

You had plans. To study.

Technically.

Your dad had given you some actual race data to review, but instead, you booted up Stardew Valley. See, your mom had made a deal with your dad – if you studied for your upcoming final exam this week (which starts tomorrow, by the way) while you’re at the shop today, you could tag along to the race this weekend.

And in your genius brain, you figured that optimizing a fully automated farm system was basically the same as learning resource management and problem solving.

Flawless logic.

You set up shop on the counter, flipping open your laptop. The familiar pixelated graphics greeted you, and within seconds, you were deep into harvesting your cranberries, managing your sprinklers, and planning the most efficient layout for your barn upgrades and eventual greenhouse.

Sukuna, who had been watching you with mild curiosity over your abrupt attention of not remembering he’s there, suddenly leaned over your shoulder.

“The hell is that?”

You didn’t look up, too focused on getting a perfect harvest cycle before the in-game day reset. “My farm.”

He blinked. “Your what?”

“My farm, pretty boy,” you repeated, exasperated. “I need to get my wine production up and running before winter hits. This is serious business.”

There was a long pause. Then a raucous laughter.

You scowled as Sukuna actually doubled over, gripping the edge of the counter for support as he wheezed.

“Wait – wait,” he gasped between laughs, “you, the grease-covered, ‘I’d rather fix cars than race them’ mechanic, are sitting here, running a farm?”

“Yes,” you said flatly.

He snorted.

You clicked your tongue, eyes still glued to the screen. “It’s called being efficient, sweetheart. I don’t just fix cars, I build sustainable economies.” And please, your kegs weren’t gonna make themselves. 

That earned you a low whistle. “Damn. Didn’t peg you for a nerd.”

You finally looked up, smirking. “Didn’t peg you for someone who’d give a shit about a farming sim.”

“I don’t,” he shot back. “I just find it hilarious that someone who refuses to touch a supercar has no problem running an entire pixel farm like a fucking tycoon.” He leaned in closer, tilting his head as he studied your screen. “So what, you just… plant stuff?”

“Plant, harvest, sell, reinvest,” you corrected. “It’s all about strategy.”

Sukuna narrowed his eyes at you. “That sound suspiciously like racing.”

You gave him a deadpan stare. “How in the hell is this like racing?”

He crossed his arms, clearly enjoying himself. “Think about it. You plan your route, optimize your car’s performance, anticipate obstacles, and time everything perfectly to get the best results. What’s the difference?”

“… Shit.” You blinked. He had a point. A stupidly good one. Looking back, your logic is actually flawless. Just sounded stupid coming from him. It’s actually a good thing you’re playing instead of studying those boring race data. You’re subconsciously learning how to strategize better.

Sukuna grinned, clearly reveling in the fact that he just blew your mind. “So basically, you’re a racer. Just… in a really fucking nerdy way.”

You groaned, rubbing your temples. “Don’t make me rethink my entire existence, pretty boy.”

“Nah, I like this.” He drummed his fingers against the counter. “I show up for a routine car check, and instead, I find a grease-streaked mechanic-slash-secret gaming strategist who doesn’t give a damn about street racing but somehow thinks running a fake-ass farm is the height of excitement.”

You shot him a playful glare for that. “You say that like you’re not just as obsessed with your car.”

“Difference is,” Sukuna leaned in, eyes glinting with mischief,  “I drive my baby at over 320 kilometers an hour. You just sit here clicking shit.”

You dramatically gasped, placing a hand over your heart. “How dare you insult my empire?”

His laughter was deep, amused, and annoyingly really nice to listen to. “I’ll give you credit, though. You’ve got a different way of thinking. Kinda refreshing.”

You just puffed your cheeks at this, continuing to play. And when you were at the Stardrop Saloon to talk with some of the villagers, disaster struck.

Sukuna, who is currently grinning like a damn idiot, reached over and hit a random key on your keyboard. And you accidentally gifted your one and only iridium bar to Shane.

You gasped. Audibly.

A horrified silence filled the garage.

On-screen, Shane – the absolute waste of space that he was – sneered and said, “What am I supposed to do with this?”

Oh no, your precious, valuable, hard-earned iridium.

Gone. Given to Shane.

FUCK.

You snapped your head towards Sukuna with murder in your eyes. He looked between you and the screen, struggling not to laugh, “…Did I just –”

“YOU –” you pointed at him, voice audibly shaking with rage. “Do you have any idea how rare iridium is? Any idea what you just did?!”

Sukuna, looking way too entertained by your reaction, leaned against the counter, smirking down at you. “Damn, sweetheart. Didn’t think you’d get this worked up over a little farming game.”

“Little farming game,” you inhaled sharply, then exhaled like you were about to commit violence. “You’re fucking paying for this.”

He just grinned. “Yeah? What, you gonna make me till your soil? Water your plants?”

Thank heavens you were in the pantry and playing on the counter. And the knife holder was on the counter. Yep, you grab one and threw a knife at him.

Sukuna barely dodged, the fucking knife clattering onto the floor behind him. He whistled, eyes gleaming with amusement. “Shit, you’re serious.”

“DEAD serious,” you seethed. “You didn’t just give iridium bars to Shane, Sukuna.” Yeah, he definitely wasn’t expecting that the first time you’ll call him by his name was when you want him dead.

He just leaned in, still smirking. “Pretty sure I just did. Whoever that is.”

And you really, really want to strangle him. But then, he moved. One moment he was lounging against the counter like an asshole. The next, he had you trapped against it, hands braced on either side of you, effectively caging you in.

Your breath hitched, totally not expecting this one. And, please, you’re still mad.

His grin turned dangerous, voice dripping low. “You gonna make me pay, princess?”

Your brain short-circuited with how close he is right now to your face. You can practically smell his cologne and feel his heat and that smug, unbearable confidence. His words sent a pleasant shiver down your spine, and you couldn't help but look up to him (mind you, he is a tall ass handsome man). 

Your fingers twitched at your sides, itching to either shove him away or – God forbid – grab onto his shirt and yank him even closer. You weren’t quire sure which impulse was stronger, but judging by the way his smirk deepened, Sukuna knew exactly the effect he was having on you.

“You gonna keep staring, sweetheart, or are you actually gonna do something about it?” His voice was all smoke and embers, teasing and taunting, like he wanted to see how far he could push you before you snapped.

And, you were this close to snapping.

Your hands shot out, fast enough that he might have flinched if he wasn’t so damn arrogant. Instead of shoving him, you grabbed the collar of his shirt. His smirk widened, but it faltered when you yanked him even closer, lips nearly brushing his ear.

“You don’t know who you’re messing with,” you whispered.

He chuckled, the sound low and rumbling in his chest. “Oh, I like the sound of that. And that’s exactly why it’s fun.” 

a/n: i don't even know what came over me to write this story. i just know that i put everything what i love here – from a cocky Sukuna to a bratty Reader. and then there's stardew and motorsports. so i hope you'll enjoy this one lol ^^

taglist: @xylov @junitries @bloomtatsuki @maeamora9 @gojoscumslut @onlypickless @domainofmarie

[hehe-69]

Jacob Black x Reader

“His love could burn against me like a bonfire.”-Levellan Dragon Age

Part 1 series is completed

Warnings for the series: Lil bit if cursing, tooth rotting fluff and ofc angst!

Reader is described as a more understanding and patient person in serious situations, but they often use sarcastic and jokes as a coping mechanism. They cannot read the room, but don’t worry I will try to save you from cringing. Also they act like a normal person having to put up with all the BS of discovering vampires and werewolves exist. (I cannot save you from my horrendous writing and spelling)

They are not physically described except for being shorter the Jacob.

Also for plot purposes your dad dies when you were 7. Ties into you and Jacob’s relationship, you can change it in your mind to be a close family friend instead of you want. (Side characters man they die like gold fish)

Summery: Reader grew up in Forks and is willing to be whatever Jacob needs them to be, a friend, someone to confide in, anything even though they wished so badly to be something more.

But what happens when they discover that Jacob Black has been ghosting them and joined Sam’s infamous cult.

Reader’s patience is put to the test as they struggle to come to terms with their new reality in which vampires and werewolves actually exist and that they may never be anything more the second best.

In this story, Jacob Black gets the love he deserves. And you get to see how deeply and lovingly devoted Jacob really is when he’s in love.

The writing gets better I promise

This fic is completed, there are 17 parts.

————

Most people who lived in Forks Washington could not stand the cold wet weather, but you thrived off of it. The rain and mist made the town feel like something out of a book or even a movie, though some days you could do without the cold.

Today was one such day. Bleak and cold, depressing, so on. Unfortunately for you, today’s weather was only foreshadowing the frustrating forecast of the next couple months of your life.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me!” You mumble out in disbelief, as you sat wide eyed at the scene before you. Jacob Black, the boy who was supposed to be sicker than a dog on his death bed with mono, was cliff diving with Sam and his cult. All his long hair was cut and you could faintly make out a tattoo on his right shoulder, the same tattoo you and him had spent way too many hours picking apart.

You couldn’t wrap your head around it all as you watched him jokingly push one of the cult members, he was laughing and joking around with them while you had spent weeks debating whether or not you should start writing a funeral speech for Jacob Black. “I’m actually going to kill him!” You say through clenched teeth, as you grab out your phone and start looking for Bella Swan’s number.

“Hello?” Bella’s voice calls throw your phone, laced with confusion due to the fact you haven’t spoken since her isolation.

“Did you know about Jacob joining Sam’s cult?” You hiss out.

“What!” Bella exclaimed, “there’s no way Jacob would’ve done that!”

“Yeah that’s what I would’ve said 5 minutes ago except for the fact that I just saw him cliff diving with them on my way back from school!” Putting your vehicle back into drive you continue your drive home.

“CLIFF DIVING! Me and him were just making fun of them for doing that a 3 weeks ago!” You could faintly make out the sound of Bella slamming one of her house doors shut.

“What do you mean 3 weeks ago?! I thought he had mono!” Now you were starting to get pissed.

“He said he got mono after we went to the movies together.” Aka when you third wheeled as Jacob and a blond boy with a squeamish stomach fought over Bella. You almost wanted to throw up at the memory of listing the the blond gagging. “Well apparently he got better real fucking fast! I thought I was going to have to start with planing his funeral.”

“No kidding” Bella laughed out. “I’m headed to your house. You and me are going to confront him about this together!”

“Bella-“ before you could even finish saying your name she hung up on you. “For fucks sake cant people have normal conversations on the phone for once!” You say under your breath.

—————

About 20 minutes after pulling into your driveway Bella’s Orange Truck pulled up. And you hopped right in.

On the way to Jacob’s house Bella explained to you that she had confronted Jacob before in person and he told her to go away and stay away, along with a whole lot of cryptic bullshit.

“Watch he’s gonna tell us he’s a vampire or something.” You joke, Bella didn’t laugh infact she started to get pale at the thought.

“God I hope not.” She says it as if she’s met one before.

You side eye her. “Bella that was a joke…I wasn’t being serious.”

“Oh,” she laugh out nervously. “Yeah I knew that” she does that head, blinking thing she does when she’s nervous. “I was joking too.”

“Right.” You begin to wonder what effect her isolation has had on her sanity as you stare out the window. “Vampires being real would explain why your boyfriend is so horrifically pale.” You chuckle at the thought, and glance at Bella…who is significantly more pale.

You decided that you really did not want to know, vampires aren’t real…right?

—————

“WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK IS GOING ON!!!” You scream out as a 6 fucking foot wolf who was once Paul??? Is about to rip you and Bella apart.

(10 minutes earlier)

“Do you think he’s home?” You ask as Bella parks her truck and kills the engine.

“Billy will tell us he’s not home, but we’re not leaving until we’ve searched that entire house for him.” Bella hisses as she opens her door and starts walking to the porch of Billy Black’s house.

“Well we won’t be looking long considering Jacob is built like a tank and is over 6 feet.” You mumble to yourself.

“He’s not here.” You hear Billy tell Bella, he obviously lying to you. Billy Black is a horrible lier.

“Really Billy?” You exasperate “When are you going to learn that lying is not exactly your strong suit.”

Billy sighs and rolls out of the way as Bella opens the screen door and makes a b-line for Jacob’s room.

“Sorry Billy.” You mutter out as you follow behind Bella. You faintly hear Billy talking to himself saying that he’s getting to old for this shit. Which you would’ve let yourself chuckle at if you hadn’t seen Jacob laying in his bed passed out.

“Oh for-REALLY!” You exclaimed.

“Shhh!!” Bella hushed you and pointed towards the tree line behind Billy’s house, where Sam and his cult were walking out of the woods. “If we want answers I say we talk to the ring leader.”

—————

Bella was on a mission as she started matching her way towards the group of boys. You were right behind but you could help but get the nagging feeling that maybe this wasn’t going to end well.

“What did you do!” Bella starts shouting. “What did you do to him?!” She exclaimed as she literally pushes Sam.

“Bella chill out!” You hiss, you were not about to get into a fight just cause she starts getting aggressive.

“No I’m not going to chill out I’m gonna get some freaking answers.” Bella shoots back at you. Why she doesn’t cuss like a normal teen you’ll never understand.

“He didn’t want this!” She shouts, and immediately after that Paul starts getting defensive.

“What did we do?!” He starts “what did he do?! Hm! What did he tell you?!”

“Okay everyone just calm down.” Sam says trying to defuse the situation.

“He hasn’t told us anything!” You rush out.

“Yeah because he’s scared of you!” Bella all but hisses. Not what you were going for but what the hell.

They all start to laugh at that. “Okay what’s-BELLA!”

Bella slapped Paul in the face. Bella Swan, shy Bells Slaped PAUL LAHOTE in the face. And his boy is LIVID.

“Haha too late now.” You hear one of the boys say, you too focused on the fact that Paul looks like he’s going to kill the both of you as Sam tells you and Bella to get back.

Paul begins to growl and is actually fuming. You grab Bella and put her behind you as you start back peddling. “What the fuck!” You whisper to yourself.

And suddenly you hear the sound of clothes ripping as Paul’s body contorted into a the shape of a GIGANTIC FUCKING WOLF.

“WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK IS GOING ON!!!” You scream as a OVER SIX FUCKING FEET WOLF who was once Paul is about to tare you and Bella apart.

“RUN!” Bella yells and starts booking it towards Billie’s house.

“YOUVE GOT TO BE SHITTING ME RIGHT NOW!” You yell as you start sprinting as fast as you can right on Bella’s heels. You didn’t even slap him and you’re the one that’s going to die because you wanted to protect your friend? HOW DO YOU PROTECT SOMEONE FROM A OVER SIX FOOT PISSED OFF WOLF.

As you and Bella are running Jacob jumps over the railing of his house and starts running towards you. “Bella!” He yells and then his eyes flicker to you and widen and he begins to sprint toward the two of you.

“JACOB RUN!” Bella yells as she sprints.

“SERIOUSLY JAKE TURN THE FUCK AROUND AND RUN!!!!” You scream at him. Just as Bella is about to run into Jake he jumps over the both of you and turns into a fucking wolf too???!!!

You and Bella are both on the ground now and you turn to look at her to see if she’s seeing what you are. And the look on her face confirms it. You look back to see a reddish brown wolf who is apparently Jacob fight a silver wolf who is Paul.

You feel like you’re having a fever dream no way in hell is this actually happening. “IS THIS ACTUALLY HAPPENING RIGHT NOW!” You look to Bella again who looks horrified and suddenly you wish you were back home taking nap.

Paul and Jacob take their fight into the woods and Sam tells Embry and Jared to take you to Emilie’s place.

“Guess the wolfs out of the bag!” Embry jokes, which you would’ve found kinda funny if it weren’t for the fact that your would was falling apart.

“Oh my God,” you chuckle out laying down on the ground with your hands on your head. “This is it…I’ve lost my goddamn mind.” You mutter to yourself and the two boys laugh at you.

“This is just the start better buckle up, it’s going to be a crazy ride.” Embry teases as he helps you up.

“I think I’m gonna pass out.” You breathe out as you feel light headed. “How are you so calm right now!” You ask Bella.

“Well uh,” she starts off awkwardly. “Edward is kind of ummm…” she doesn’t meet your eye.

You feel your stomach drop, all your teasing and jokes, all the times you said ‘maybe his a vampire’ AS A JOKE. You were right?!

“Shut the fuck up!” You say as you start to hyper ventilating. “Hey hey breath!” Embry says trying to calm you down.

“YOUR BOYFRIEND IS A FUCKING VAMPIRE AND YOU LET ME GO TO HIS FUCKING HOUSE WITH YOU!!!!” It was too much! two boys you’ve know all your life could turn into wolves! And your best friend’s boyfriend was a blood sucking vampire! And you have been to his fucking house, A DEN OF VAMPS.

“WHAT THE FUCK BELLA!!” You yell as you lose your shit. “Dude come on just breathe it’s not that deep!” Embry says. You start to slow your breathing down.

“All of you better start explaining before I start swinging!” You state as soon as you and Bella load up in her truck with the two boys.

“Yeah sure more violence, cause that worked so well last time!” Jared rolls his eyes at Embry. “Dude read the cab.”

“There’s no way you just said that with a straight face.” Jared reply’s and Embry laughs out as he starts the truck and they begin fighting back and forth.

You sigh out and turn your head towards Bella. “Start talking asshole!” Hiss at her as she smiles apologetically.

———————

This is basically a pilot of sorts, there will be more parts and I pinky promise I will not abandon this story.

Also feel free to comment anything or let me know if you want to see more. And thank you for making it this far. I was mainly trying to do like if a normal person was in twilight and experienced all this.

I promise my writing will get better this is more of a how you find out wolves and vampires exist and we’ve all seen this scene before I’m not going to bore you with details

Part two

[nataliescatorccioapologist]

My takeaways from attending the Yellowjackets Vulture Fest panel

If you saw me and my friend trying and failing to carry 7 alcoholic beverages into the room, no you didn’t

•There will be a Season 3 announcement this upcoming Tuesday that fans have been “waiting for” and “expecting” for a while.

•I’m just going to come out and say it: Ella Purnell is definitely returning for Season 3. The interviewer asked if there is a chance of Jackie returning in flashbacks or hallucinations this season, and the writers all shared a knowing look, giggled, wiggled their eyebrows, and said “Maybe” with a smile. She’s coming back for sure guys.

•The writers were asked to rate the level of gore in Season 3 on a scale of 1-10, and they said, at certain points in the season, it will be a 9.5

•Van was originally supposed to die in the wilderness but the writers loved Liv Hewson’s performance so much that they decided to keep Van alive.

•Laura Lee was also supposed to die earlier (in episode 2) but the writers loved her character so much that they decided to keep her around until episode 8 instead (and they took great joy in writing her trying to fly that plane).

•The writers emphasized that the two sides of Taissa are not meant to be “good” and “evil” but rather “pragmatic” and “primal.” The “bad one” is really just more uninhibited, more open to the spiritual, ethereal side of things while the side of Tai we know and love is the more practical and logical side that is skeptical of the wilderness.

•Shauna is said to be the “core” and “impetus” of the events of the show. They also said that she best represents the duality of the primal nature of the wilderness and the pragmatism of civilization.

•Shauna eating Jackie was said to be both an act of “hatred” and “love.” Shauna consumed her both to as an act of worship and wanting Jackie to always be a part of her, as well as an act of “domination.”

•It was also emphasized that Shauna drawing the queen card in the adult timeline is not a coincidence and definitely holds significant meaning. The writers seemed hesitant to expand on that meaning, so I have a feeling it has something to do with adult Shauna’s storyline in Season 3 and beyond. In my opinion, Shauna drawing the queen card was symbolic of her assuming a leadership role in the adult timeline that will play out in Season 3.

•It was also said that Natalie’s death in the adult timeline is very much connected to her drawing the queen card in the teen timeline. They implied that her drawing the queen, in a way, lead to her eventual death. I’m wondering what this means for Shauna drawing the queen card in the adult timeline?

•Some of the actors wanted to know how their stories are going to play out, and some of them did not. Samantha Hanratty was named as one of the actors that does not want to know her character’s future and doesn’t read the adult timeline scripts to avoid the influence of them on her portrayal of the character.

•Natalie was specified as the “moral code” of the group, which is why the writers say she is so impacted by Javi’s death, as it goes against her moral code. This is part of the reason why she is so “broken” in the adult timeline.

•Natalie’s death was planned from the beginning. The writers confirmed that Natalie hallucinating Misty at the bonfire in the pilot episode was intentional foreshadowing and a “prophetic moment” for Natalie. This moment was said to foreshadow both that Misty would become an important figure in Natalie’s life one day and that she would be the “mechanism of Natalie’s death.” The writers said that Nat was always meant to die at some point, but they weren’t sure initially when it was going to happen. They said they decided on the end of Season 2 because things were just starting to go well for Natalie, she was just starting to heal, and therefore she had to die.

•The writers pointed out the impact of seeing Misty, a character who does not usually express genuine emotion (when she does it’s usually in a manipulative manner), fully sob and express genuine horror and grief during Nat’s death scene.

•Jeff was originally just meant to be an “accessory” to Shauna, but he gained more meaning and importance to the show as the writers loved Warren Kole and his portrayal of Jeff.

•For season 3, the writers were pretty tight-lipped, but they did say that they are very proud of the season and excited for people to see it. They said that there will be an interesting dynamic in that the winter will be over in the teen timeline, so the characters will have to grapple with what they’ve done now that they’re out of the dire situation they were in in the winter. They said this will have a great effect on their psyches and group dynamics.

•Joel McHale was cast after Ashley Lyle met him at a party of some sort (and Lyle admitted she was drunk during the encounter) and, after he said he was a fan of the show, Lyle basically said “Oh well I have a part in Season 3 for you” and he was cast.

•They were asked directly about the Eden lawsuit, and they had a little giggle about it and admitted that they’ve never seen that movie, and they’ve been very upfront about their influences (Lost, Alive, etc.) They obviously couldn’t say much more about it, but it was funny seeing them react.

•The writers emphasized the distinction between “fan appreciation” and “fan service,” and they said that, while they occasional look at fan feedback on Reddit and Twitter, they keep that feedback out of the writers room. This is actually very comforting to me, I was worried about Season 3 falling into the fan service trap. I am glad the writers are sticking with their intuitions and original intentions for the show.

So excited for Season 3 and so grateful these amazingly talented writers and showrunners are at the helm of it!

[joltai-showa]

Important inquiry for science: If you had to line up the Akatsuki from biggest virgin to biggest player, how would it go? I’ve got my own theories, but I’d love to hear your take.

Okay this is actually hilarious thank you for the ask

I am not exactly sure if the virgin to player line is about their mentality about sex or their actual experience, but I am gonna rank them by the latter. Also no Orochimaru because I don't really consider him a part of the core Akatsuki gang and no Taka/Hebi glup shittos because even if Akatsuki is full of clowns it does not deserve to turn into complete circus that Sasuke's shitty harem is.

Anyway, we're gonna start from the virgins and get to the players later.

9. Sasori

Dude literally started willingly cutting up his body at the age of 15 and kind of permenantly stayed in the form of one (off Chiyo's words that Sasori did not change at all in the 20 years after he left the village). With how passionate he is about hating the weakness of human form and how puppets are the real shit, I don't think he was ever that interested in sex even before he started resizing himself to heart only. The best I can imagine is him being mildly curious about the mechanical implications of the process, but in a "I have a giant spy network and overall responsible for a lot of information moving in the world, so I need to know how to imitate sex with my puppets to extract intel from certain (horny) targets" kind of way. Overall, doesn't even have a dick to do the deed (which I know is not a good enough argument from what I had seen during my Sasodei days lol). Anyway as unlikely as it is a poisonous wooden dildo is a hilarious concept.

8. Obito

I stand by my characterization of him in BSSM AU. Bro's been wrapped up in all of these schemes since he was like 14, and he had been so laser focused on his plan that he 100% never had any action. He never even considered a possibility. The virgin to rule all virgins, especially when you consider his other competitor doesn't have a dick to farm that exp. Buddy's understanding of sex was left somewhere around the time his Uchiha Obito identity was, so I'm gonna be generous and say he at least knows in theory how babies are made. So closeted about his bisexuality that the closet has the size of Kamui. A porn magazine is enough to send him into depressive-aggressive spiral, and if someone (like his Akatsuki partner wink wink) was to touch him in a no-no area, Obito would do his best "I am Uchiha Madara and I am 100 years old" impression and die of a heart attack. If he is forced out of his volutary celibacy, becomes the nastiest freak of them all and is absolutely unbearable. I don't believe for a second that his Eternal Tsukuyomi dream would be about him working as a Hokage or whatever other dogshit Kishimoto gave him as a dream just for Naruto's talk-no-jutsu work. Obito for at least half a year in the Tsukuyomi would be having the nastiest orgies that his perverted mind could come up with. Fulfilling all of his bisexual fantasies.

But in reality he remains a very mad virgin who is totally not interested in any of that. He's the mastermind and the pupeeter, he doesn't have the time for such things (senpai please sit on Tobi's face)

7. Itachi

When there is one Uchiha, another soon follows. Joestar family ahh ahh curse of fate lol.

On a more serious note, Itachi pre-massacre at least had a confirmed girlfriend, so he's already above others because he at least kissed someone in his life (meanwhile Obito's best chances were with a photograph and he failed even at that). I don't think he actually had sex with anyone, though. He was way too young pre-massacre for that (plus there's the entire family and Root watching your every step, so yeah the chances are decreasing to zero), and post-massacre he probably didn't want anything due to the endless depressive episode he was having and his ever-worsening chronic illness. I do think he might have talked about sex with Kisame, considering how actually pretty civil they are to each other. But these conversation would have been more philosophical than anything.

6. Deidara

I know, might be a bit surprising lol.

But if we are talking about canon Deidara (and not Girldara), I have a bit of a different understanding of how he would interact with sex. First of all, I do not believe for a second that he ever was interested romantically in any girl or a woman. Like, he does not even comprehend such concept. The women can be motherly, sisterly and friendly figures to him, but seeing another guy thirst after them would make Deidara go "huh" like that fat cat in the meme video.

Now, life isn't that simple for our gayboy, because he's a child soldier to out child all soldiers. Little bro ran away from the village at like 11 and had no insurance waiting for him, he had just himself and his bombs. And overall, I'd say with Deidara's obsession over being recognized for his art and as an artist is just another extremety of desire to be recognized as a talanted shinobi and for his jutsu. Iwa clearly treated him as an utility, a tool for their goals, and that might have impacted his socializing skills a bit.

Basically, what I am saying that even if Deidei is the biggest homosexual in Iwa history and an entire fruit orchard, he would still not really comprehend why does he want to be railed by another guy. He's too entrapped into this shinobi/artist overachieving mindset, and thus he wouldn't actually recognize the calls of nature, so he'd just go on to make more bombs and be miserable and angry for a while.

(He does absolutely suck himself off with those hand-mounths. Considering the opening illustration to his death chapter, I'd say this is canon)

Also Deidara has a very specific type of guy he likes - dark hair, dark eyes, dark past, depressed, delusional. Which is pretty much just Uchiha men. He's very pissed about the fact, but he's unaware of the real reasons as to why he's losing his mc fucking marbles when they ignore him. Poor little gayboy, he just wanted some attention.

(also I am never stopping going crazy over the fact that Deidara's experiencing his unaware gayboy 9/11 all over again while fighting Sasuke and thinking about Itachi, and there's a third fucking Uchiha the entire time pissing him off too. like, a third Uchiha has hit your bullshit radar.)

5. Nagato

Obviously no action after increasing the percentage of heavy metal in himself, but before that - I mean, they were all unsupervised kids in a very unstable country, I'd say by teenage years all of them might have tried a thing or too. Not sure if the Rinnegan would have been considered attractive by Ame's population or not lol. Anyway, dunno if he would have actively gone for it while he still had the chance, he is probably another type to be married to his duty.

4. Konan

I think she's canonically implied to do the deed with Yahiko lol xd So she's certainly above the rest who are theoretically not virgins. Obviously, no action since Yahiko's death, instantly married her Angel duty and kept up at it until Obito helped to increase the percentage of heavy metal in her too.

Obito hated her for her pure alpha female aura, he couldn't take 17 years of being (unknowingly) mogged for his virginity.

3. Kisame

Might be surprising, but hear me out: fandom would have been sinking under the weight of Kisame thirst trap videos if he was even slightly more conventionally attractive. Alas, sharkman we have.

Considering the pretty girl we see in his pre-death flashbacks, I'd say some people in Blood Mist saw The Vision. Besides, he is one of the Swordsmen of the Mist, you bet your ass he's got the status in the village. I think he might have been pretty depressed from his counterintelligence officer work and then later outright betrayal of the village with the whole allying with Yagura's puppeteer thing, so with years he tried to reach out to his fans less and less. But I'd say this is "Jaime Lannister shitting and crying in the bathtub" situation - "booohooo everyone calls me a Kingslayer, everyone hates me, I suck sooo much" and meanwhile every single peasant in Westeros is doing "sexy #Kingslayer🥵💋🙏💕 slays and serves💅" compilations on the medieval equivalent of Tiktok. Only Kisame was sitting there in the corner, purple from how depressed he is, and thinking "they don't know the horrors of the system and how one day I will be ordered to kill them all" and his fan club dancing around him and saying "yes we all know you can kill us all, so how about you pull out your gargantuan hungry sword and fight us to the death😏😏😏😏😏"

Now, during his Akatsuki period I'd say practically no one outside the Land of Water saw The Vision, but honestly I think after leaving Blood Mist Kisame cheered up a bit. Still depressed as fuck, but Kirigakure under Obito is somehow more fucking miserable than Orochimaru's testing pits. The village reflected the menatlity of the guy leading it, I suppose. Anyway, by that point Kisame could have afforded to pay for a good evening with a girl from a brothel (and let's be honest Naruto world absolutely has those). He'd be actually surprising polite and gentle, and pretty generous too, so he's got a good reputation with that part of society.

2. Kakuzu

Have you seen how this man looked in his bloody 90s. Have you seen this aura farming freak of a great-grandpa. Kakuzu at his 91 is still pulling more bitches than every other man before him on this list. Does he sleep with them? I don't know, might be too preoccupied with his retirement fund. Considering he lived like three lifespans of a normal shinobi, I think he tried it all. Obviously for free, god forbid he ever has to pay for himself. Men and women pay to lay with him.

1. Hidan

A fucking whore. Constantly walks half-naked and moans like his dick is in heaven when he gets stabbed? A sadomasochistic whore. I don't even think he can die of STDs, so he's single-handedly fulfilling the sex quota in the organization.

Bonus round: White Zetsu. Canonically reproduce asexually. I don't know if that puts them in a bitchless virgin category or the biggest player to outplay all players. What I do know is that they did their damnest not to evolve in any capacity for like 50 years because if they even slightly started to look like Hashirama Madara would come for them with his "weapon" raised. Successfully managed to stay true to their asexual roots, the worst that happened to them over those 50 years was Guruguru who offsets the "any hole is the goal" mentality by yapping so much.

Black is the black mold. He whispers things to Madara's failing mind.

[hannibals-favourite-meal]

Could you do either Daryl D or Dean W for Secret Child? I feel like these two would fit that one greatly lol.

.⋆｡Moonlight｡⋆.

7k Follower Bingo

Daryl Dixon x plus size reader

Who knew the end of the world would finally bring you back to the man who gave you everything and nothing before leaving?

Warnings: mom!reader, secret kid, abandonment and its associated issues, swearing, angst, no walkers but mentions of them, prison!era, short but I might do a part 2 WC: 1.7k Minors DNI Library- @hannibals-favourite-meal-library

Fear and rage were not new emotions for you, in fact, they were old friends that loved to overstay their welcome. Yet, for mch of your life, you were grateful for that festering fire that never quite seemed to die; when your father decided that he no longer wanted to be a father, abandoning you at the ripe age of 7; when bullies relentlessly tortured you for nearly a decade; and especially when the man you thought loved you with all his heart vanished after you finally slept with him, leaving you with a void in your soul and his baby in your belly. Fear and rage were there for you, forcing you back to your feet, despite the physical or mental hurt, and pushed you forwards until all you had left was your anger.

And your baby.

“Mama.” A little hand wrapped around the front of your throat, choking you just enough to get your attention.

“Yes baby?” You delicately moved her hand down to your collarbone where her chubby fingers danced along your skin. She hummed against your back, inevitably wiping her nose on your shirt. You continued scrounging through the bin of clothes at the back of the mechanic shop you had stumbled across, waiting for her to find her words. Luna was getting too big for the meagre stash of toddler clothes you had grabbed before your apartment was overrun, so repurposing coveralls would have to do until you could find something else.

“Gonna eat home?” You pulled a smallish jumpsuit from the bin, should be easy enough to cut up to vaguely fit her. You tossed it towards the hiking backpack you were using for your things.

“Maybe. What do you think? Should we sleep over in a house or do some camping?” She liked ‘camping’, she got to stay up late, look at the stars and play the quiet game until she fell asleep in your arms. You had been lucky the past couple weeks, finding abandoned houses with enough canned food to last until the next one so it had been a while since you had to sleep in a car or on top of a truck with your baby. 

A little leg kicked at your side, quickly getting restless in her carrier. “Houz.” 

“Ok. House it is. What colour is it gonna be?” You bit back a groan as you straightened up, even after months of carrying her like this practically all day, your back still had yet to adapt. 

“Don’t know mama. Purgle?” You smiled despite the gnawing anxiety at the base of your skull. How long would this lucky streak last? How long would you be alone, raising your daughter in a world that was now only blood and pain? 

“Hmm purple. That would be very pretty. Do you think this purple house will have a…” You prompted as you took a step towards the bag, grabbing Luna’s foot playfully. Her tiny sneaker that was so cute it made your ovaries hurt, kicked against your palm as she half-heartedly attempted to escape your grasp.

“Book!” She squealed and redoubled her efforts to escape her prison. You laughed under your breath, of course that’s what she wanted most. Books were sacred to your little Luna considering you could only carry one or two at a time, she loved her bedtime stories more than anything in the world.

“I’m sure we can find you a book to read tonight baby. Maybe even two. But we have to play the quiet game for a little bit. Can you do that for me?” A firm nod against your spine was the only answer you needed to grab the handle of the back pack and swing it over your shoulders, effectively concealing Luna from the world. Quiet and hidden meant she was safe, she knew that well.

You still had a couple hours of daylight to find a refuge for the night, should be more than enough if you moved fast. The garage doors remained open, like you left them, but the car that you had passed on your way in now had the trunk popped. Fear began to rear its head, purring happily as you laid your hand on the handle of the large hunting knife hanging from your hip. One of the dead couldn’t have done that, and you wouldn’t let the living even get a chance to notice you were there.

There was no exit out the back, the door in the office had been sealed shut with age, and you definitely couldn’t squeeze through a window. So out the front was the only way. You tightened the straps on Luna’s baby carrier, pulling her closer to you. She gave a small grumble of protest, her tiny fists pressing to your shoulder blades but then settled again. You kept your steps light, your head on a swivel.

The street was clear save for a pickup truck at the end of the block, you could see it as you crept to the garage door. There was a library around the corner in the opposite direction, you could make it if you ran hard. Just as your back foot planted, a click sounded from right behind your head.

“Don’t.” You froze, muscles still tensed for your run. “Turn around. Hand off the knife.” You obeyed however unwillingly. A bullet moved a hell of a lot faster than you. Lull him into a false sense of security, look for a weak point, run. 

He was older but not old— greying hair, built physique, the showy gun in his hands was too sure to be something he wasn’t familiar with. His blue eyes scanned the length of your body but there was no lust or menace in it, like he was searching for injuries. “‘M not gonna hurt you. Are you alone?”

You kept your mouth shut and the man sighed. “You are. Look, we have a safe place; the prison just outside town. We can take you there, let you rest for a while.” 

“We?” His shoulders dropped, a warm smile growing on his lips.

“Yeah, me and my friend. There’s women and children, walls, and fresh water. You’ve been alone a while I’m guessing?” Something about him eased the biting fear in your chest. You finally stood up straight, dropping your hands back down to your sides.

“Name?” He chuckled as if he expected the question sooner, holding out his hand to shake after returning his gun to its holster. You ignored the gesture which he didn’t seem to mind.

“Rick Grimes.” A tiny foot jammed into your side as Luna sat up, her chin perching on your shoulder. “You’ve got a kid.” The man’s eyes went wide, his stance faltering.

“Thank you captain obvious, anything else you want to comment on?” You took a hold of her foot, shaking it as if to reassure both her and yourself that things were ok. Rick’s smile softened. “You got one?”

“Two. Oldest is 14, youngest is a couple months.” Your eyebrows raised. “Yours?” He gestured to Luna who was now trying her darndest to pull herself over your shoulder.

“Almost 2.” 

“Mama.” She whined but you gently shushed her, craning your neck to press a kiss to the plump swell of her cheek which calmed her down enough to at least stop kicking your ribs.

“She’s cute. What’s her-“

“Rick! Where the hell… are-“ The rasp of another voice grated against your ears though it was so intimately familiar. You whipped around to find exactly the man you thought was there, the last person you had let hurt you. 

“Daryl.” His eyes widened, those icy blues you loved so much reminding you of why you had a toddler nestled against you. You hated them now.

He physically stumbled, the crossbow in his hands falling to the street with a clatter. “I-“

Daryl finally looked past you and to the baby hanging off your back with a face identical to his own with your eyes. “I called you.” You snarled, chest puffing up. The pain of those first few weeks alone and terrified sparked up your nerves. “I called you, I begged you to come back.”

“She’s-“

“Yeah she’s fucking yours, you’d have known if you bothered to find me.” Luna whined louder, grabbing at your neck as her distress mounted. You didn’t hesitate to throw off the back pack and retrieve her from the carrier. She curled into your chest, tears quickly soaking through your shirt. 

Her tears doused the fire of your fury, the last of the smoke leaving your lungs. “You left.” 

The hunter deflated at the sight of her, his scarred hands flexing with the urge to reach out and touch her, or maybe to run once more. “I had ta.” He avoided your gaze, instead looking at Rick.

“You fucking-“

“Hey.” Rick stepped between you. “Let’s get you two to the prison and then we can have this talk. Sun’s goin down soon, we’ll need to go now if we don’t want to drive in the dark.” You nodded and he grabbed your bag, swinging it onto his shoulder. 

“Yer comin with m- us?” Daryl sounded hopeful, voice soft as Luna finally calmed down, her eyelids fluttering with the weight of sleep. You almost cursed him out again but Rick was right, you could kill him later when you’ve had a full night’s sleep and some real food.

“Guess so. It’s not just me out here, if it was, I would’ve shot you.” He nodded dutifully and picked up the crossbow. 

“I know.” Daryl whispered, giving you space as you walked past him but you knew he was watching each step you took. Your rage and fear had driven you for so long, letting your mind take a backseat when things began to hurt you but something else inside of your heart began to grow in the twilight of that spring day, nestling itself beside them like moonlight emerging from dark clouds. You knew he would grovel and beg for forgiveness but never try to excuse his actions, that when it came down to it, Daryl would step up. Because he knew of rage and fear but he also knew of the silvery, cool light of hope.

You could only steel yourself for the day that those raging fires died and Luna and her father reminded you of why you loved in the first place.

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[hellfirebarnes]

Slow-Burns Part 7

@crowleythesexydemon

PART 1 PART 2 PART 3 PART 4 PART 5 PART 6 PART 8

I split this up in several, shorter parts because I know the feeling when you want to read a fic but don't have the time or energy to get through a 10k+ words one. Also if you hate my writing you can just read part 1 and then leave it. Win-win I guess?

Anyway, this is set after Thunderbolts so if you haven't seen it - spoilers I guess? It absolutely does not follow canon, but yeah better to be safe than sorry.

Summary: Bucky has fallen. Hopelessly. And the only thing more hopeless is his team trying to help him get to the end of this slow-burn.

Bucky x fem!SHIELD!reader

1.3K Words

Fluff, ''normal'' violence and descriptions of injuries. For sure out of character stuff, but I am who I am. Your appearence is barely desribed what I can remember, I think your hair and a couple types what clothes you're wearing?

You're referred to as ''Agent'' and ''Sunshine'' in a desperate attempt from me to not use Y/N.

Let me know if there's anything else I should warn about.

Otherwise, enjoy :)

Bucky entered the kitchen like it was enemy territory. He had a mission. A plan. A mental flowchart.

Step One: Talk to you. Like a normal person.

Step Two: Make you laugh. Naturally.

Step Three: Try not to die of mortification.

He found you exactly where he knew you’d be - sitting on the counter, legs swinging, cradling a cup of coffee, and arguing with John over who should’ve made breakfast.

“I made coffee,” John was saying.

“That’s not food,” you replied. “That’s a coping mechanism.”

Bob was hovering near your knees, head resting on his arms on the counter like a golden retriever who needed constant emotional validation. Alexei stood near the fridge humming something suspiciously like a wedding march.

Bucky cleared his throat.

You looked up immediately, eyes lighting up. “Hey! You’re up early.”

“Thought I’d make pancakes,” he said. Casual. Like a completely chill person who didn’t spend last night writing your name in a notebook like a high schooler with a crush.

Yelena, passing through, stopped mid-step.

John blinked. “You?”

Bob gasped. “That’s so romantic.”

You looked at him, surprised. “You don’t have to do that.”

Bucky gave a tight smile. “I want to.”

He grabbed the mixing bowl before anyone could say anything else, hands already shaking slightly. You slid off the counter to help, bumping your shoulder against his as you reached for the flour.

“I didn’t know you cooked,” you said.

“I don’t. Much. Learning.” He glanced at you - close, warm, smiling. He was definitely going to burn these pancakes.

Twenty minutes later the pancakes were… edible. Mostly.

You laughed after biting into one. “You added cinnamon?”

“I read it softens the taste.”

“I like it.”

Alexei smacked Bucky on the back. “He’s cooking for you! This is phase one! Courtship begins!”

“Alexei,” Bucky said through gritted teeth.

“He’s starting the ritual!” Alexei declared to the room like a town crier.

John groaned into his coffee. “I can’t be here for this.”

“I live for this,” Yelena said, smirking.

Bob practically sparkled. “You’re courting her like a storybook prince! That’s so pure.”

Bucky was going to need another war to hide in.

But then you leaned in closer and whispered, “Don’t let them scare you off. This is really sweet, Bucky.”

He didn’t speak. Couldn’t. Just nodded, ears burning.

Later that day, the team had scattered to their usual haunts. You sat on the floor near the couch, surrounded by polaroids and a sketchbook. You were humming to yourself, completely at ease.

Bucky stood in the doorway for several seconds before Ava passed by and bumped his shoulder. “You survived step one.”

“I almost choked on cinnamon batter.”

“Still counts.”

He hesitated, then moved into the room and sat on the floor across from you.

You glanced up. “Hey again.”

“Whatcha working on?” he asked, leaning closer.

“Just sorting through the mess. Trying to figure out which of these deserve wall space.” You lifted a polaroid of you and Yelena caught mid-laugh, flour on your faces. “This one’s a strong contender.”

He spotted one of him and Bob crammed into frame, Bob holding up peace signs while Bucky looked halfway to escaping. With you in the middle - beaming.

“You should put that one up,” he said, pointing to it.

You laughed. “You think?”

He nodded. “You look happy in it.”

You looked at him, just a moment too long. “So do you.”

And for one terrifying, beautiful second, he felt like a guy who might actually deserve a moment like this.

Alexei was hiding behind a plant, whispering:  

“Mission Update: The Boy has made Contact. He has Initiated Pancakes. We are Go for Operation: Barnes Gets the Girl. I repeat—Go.”

Ava, who was walking by, stopped and looked at him. “Alexei, you’re talking into a fork.”

“It’s a metaphor.”

It had taken days. He’d mentally rehearsed it during missions, in the shower, in quiet elevator rides. Hell, he’d even gone back to that stupid notebook, where Operation: Court Sunshine now had a small constellation of checkmarks beside things like:

• “Make her laugh” ✅

• “Don’t combust while making pancakes” ✅

• “Speak actual words” (working on it)

Now it was time for the next terrifying step.

Step 4: Ask her out. Alone. For real. Like a grown man.

He found you finishing up a cooldown stretch, flushed from sparring with Ava, hair pulled back, eyes bright with victory.

“Hey,” he said, trying not to sound like a nervous wreck.

You beamed. “Hey, you missed it - Ava nearly threw me through the wall.”

“I’m sure the wall deserved it.”

You laughed. Victory.

Encouraged, he cleared his throat. “So, uh. I was thinking. Maybe we could-” He coughed. “You know... Go somewhere.”

Your head tilted. “Like a mission?”

“No-no, not a mission. Like a… not-mission.”

“…A recon?” you guessed.

He blinked. “Not really...more like… I was thinking we could check out that new place downtown. The café. You mentioned it. The one with the plants?”

“Oh!” your face lit up. “That place looks so cute!”

He nodded, nerves clawing at him. “So. Maybe this weekend?”

“Totally! I’ll tell the others!”

He froze. “Wait - others?”

Too late.

Saturday Bucky stood beside you outside the greenhouse-style café with a polite, quiet smile and the sinking feeling of a man who had just asked someone out on a date - but instead accidentally created a social event.

Because walking toward you were all of them.

Bob waved enthusiastically from a block away.

Yelena had sunglasses and iced coffee already in hand. “Who decided brunch? I love brunch.”

John looked at Bucky with unfiltered judgment. “This was your idea?”

Alexei was dressed like a suburban dad on vacation, arms wide. “It’s a beautiful day for love!”

You looked delighted. “This is gonna be so fun.”

Bucky wanted the ground to swallow him.

Inside the café, Bucky sat squished between a hanging fern and Bob, who had somehow already convinced you to sit beside him and was telling you an enthusiastic story about a stray cat he’d met that morning. Yelena was stealing sips of your drink. John kept playing with the salt shaker like it might explode. Alexei was… filming something?

Every time Bucky opened his mouth to say something to you, someone else got there first.

“So then I told the cat, ‘You deserve love too!’” Bob was saying.

You giggled.

Bucky tried again. “So, about this-”

“Oh! Look at this cake!” you gasped, turning to Yelena. “We have to try that.”

Bucky leaned back in his chair. He was two inches from a potted monstera and one emotional breakdown from giving up entirely.

“Honestly,” John muttered, “this is painful.”

Bucky shot him a look. “What is?”

“You. This.” He gestured broadly. “You tried to ask her out and now we’re all here. Like emotional bodyguards.”

“I didn’t mean to-”

“She doesn’t know it was supposed to be a date, does she?”

“No,” Bucky grumbled.

Alexei plopped down across from them, slapping a muffin onto Bucky’s plate. “This is good for the heart! Resistance builds character. Fight for her!”

“I was trying not to make it a fight,” Bucky muttered.

Alexei winked. “That was your first mistake.”

The group had splintered a bit as they walked back, with Bob bouncing between every conversation and John loudly arguing with a pigeon about sidewalk ownership. You slowed your pace next to Bucky, sipping the last of your coffee.

“Thanks for suggesting that,” you said. “It was nice. Really chaotic, but nice.”

“Yeah,” Bucky said, watching you smile. “It was… something.”

You glanced up at him. “You okay?”

He hesitated. Then nodded. “I will be.”

You didn’t ask what he meant. Just bumped your shoulder gently against his. You walked a little closer after that.

And even though Bucky had failed spectacularly at asking you out - he still wrote “Step 4.5: Try again” in his notebook that night.

[threewaywithdelusion]

If AFTG was set in the world of The Hunger Games:

Allison is from District 1. She’s a career from the district that makes luxury goods and it explains why her parents are so image-obsessed. Her district-partner, Seth, died in her arms during her games. Many of the Ravens are from 1 or the other Career districts, 2 and 4.

Kevin and Riko are from 2. Two is the darling pet of the Capitol and they’re “brothers” who win consecutive years (they’re Cashmere and Gloss, but from 2). The Moriyamas were a Capitol family who got stuck in 2 when the borders closed (they moved in the opposite direction as the Plinth family). Kayleigh Day was the victor of the first Hunger Games (or maybe the 10th? Maybe she’s this world’s Lucy Gray, who accidentally transformed the Games for years to come and who disappeared mysteriously). The Moriyamas took in Kevin when Kayleigh died, which is how Kevin and Riko grew up as “brothers.”

Renee is from District Three, breeding ground for technology and rebels. The Capitolites love her because she’s a good girl, a model victor. She also makes concessions to Capitol fashion in a way most other victors don’t (rainbow hair). But it’s all a façade to hide her aid to the rebellion. Laila could also be from Three, which is why she has mysterious connections even though she’s not a Career. She’s tied to the rebel network from birth because her father is neck-deep in the plot.

Jean and Elodie are from District 4. A Career district, but not as highly valued as 1 and 2. Jean goes to the Games at 16 and emerges victorious. Elodie is reaped two years later, when Jean, 18 and a Victor, can do nothing to stop it. He cannot help her escape his fate. He mentors her and he watches her die.

Cat’s from 6, transportation. Her family runs a mechanic’s shop and Cat drives an illegal motorcycle as a kid.

Matt is from District 7, lumber, which is why he’s so strong.

Andrew, Aaron, Nicky, and Katelyn are all from District 8, textiles. I imagine this is a district with a lot of child labour in factories and which is pretty poor. The only one of the four of them to go to the Games is Andrew. Aaron’s name was the one reaped. Andrew didn’t even volunteer. He just marched up there, claiming to be Aaron and has been living as his twin ever since. Andrew Minyard is the youngest victor to ever win the Games (he tied Riko for winning at 14, but Riko was almost 15 while Andrew was barely 14, and Riko had never gotten over Andrew "stealing" his achievement).

Neil is from District 10, livestock. His father is The Butcher in more ways than one. His father was a Peacekeeper who stayed in District 10 past his initial assignment and became a sort of hitman, taking orders from the Capitol and local authorities alike and killing for fun whenever he got bored. Jack is also from District 10, the year after Neil, and having to mentor him is making Neil reconsider taking up his father’s career.

Dan is from 11, agriculture and the first district to join 12 in the rebellion. She was an upset victory, because no one expected the girl from 11 to ever win anything. She grew up in the poorest part of town and, like girls from the Seam in 12, had to turn to sex work to survive. She’s a really good mentor and she often volunteers to mentor 12 when they need a someone, which means she mentors Robin alongside Andrew.

Robin is from 12. Twelve never had a victor (or has no living ones) the year Robin is reaped and someone from another district gets assigned to them. Andrew is Robin’s mentor, even though they’re from different districts.

Jeremy is from the Capitol. He’s not a victor, because he would never be reaped. He comes from a prestigious Capitol family, one that didn’t even turn to cannibalism or sympathize with the rebels during the Dark Days. But he’s the Sejanus Plinth black sheep of his family and he’s entirely opposed to the Hunger Games — he joins the rebels as an inside man.

Others:

Given the gender situation in Panem, Cody’s either from 12 (and Covey) or 1. Either way, their gender is looked at with complete bewilderment in the very binary games, but is viewed as either a weird cultural aspect of the the Covey or something that’s just “the latest fad” in 1. If Cameron Winters also exists, then they have to be from 1.

***

The Mentors:

Tetsuji mentors 2. Maybe he’s eventually hired as a Gamemaker, but maybe the main branch of the Moriyamas family never left the Capitol and it’s Kengo/Ichirou who are Gamemakers.

Wymack is either a mentor in 8 (Andrew) or 11 (Dan). He knocked Kayleigh Day up on her victory tour and never found out about Kevin’s existence, until the day Kevin volunteered for the Hunger Games. He doesn't know he's Kevin's father until after the rebellion starts.

Rhemann is a mentor in Three and is a rebel (this world's Beetee).

***

Kathy Ferdinand is Caesar Flickerman.

***

Victors by year:

60: Drake Spear (18)

61: Thea (18)

62: A male career, age 18, to balance out all the younger winners from non-career districts on this list. Grayson Johnson maybe.

63: Renee Walker (15)

64: Riko Moriyama (14)

65: Kevin Day (15)

66: Allison Reynolds (17). Seth Gordon (17) is her district-partner, but he dies.

67: Dan Wilds (17)

68: "Aaron" Minyard (14)

69: Laila Dermott (16)

70: Matt Boyd (18)

71: Jean Moreau (16) -- Zane goes in this year too, becomes an ally to Jean because Jean's a Career and he wants to join the Career Pack, then tries to kill Jean in his sleep.

72: Neil Josten (17)

73: Catalina Alvarez (18)

74: Robin Cross (14) and Elodie Moreau (13) are both reaped. Both die. Jean, Andrew, and Dan are their mentors and grow closer. Jean stops trying to be good after Elodie dies and throws his lot in with the rebels. The Mockingjay is... Lucas Johnson? Cody Winters? Or maybe Robin shouldn't die and should be the Mockingjay instead, with Andrew as her Haymitch.

75, Quarter Quell: Final ages for everyone the year of the 75th Hunger Games: Drake (33), Thea (32), Renee (27), Riko (25), Kevin (25), Allison (26), Dan (25), Andrew (21), Laila (22), Matt (23), Jean (20), Neil (20), Cat (20). Robin, if she's alive, (15).

[oneglass-zinfandel]

What’s your Ben’s personality like? I feel like everyone makes him the same asshole

Note: thank you for asking! A few requests got sent in like the second I posted my Masterlist so thanks for that!

Tw: mentions of Death, killing, sadism, drowning

The thing I love about Creepypasta is how Little information we have on the cannon personality of them so it's up to you to imagine their personalities and it's so fun seeing people make headcannons!

Personally I keep switching between all kinds of personalities for Ben but here's what I usually stick with<3

★ I don't think he's a asshole but he's definitely childish so it comes off as him being a jerk

★ He died around the age of 12 but I see him as more of a 17-19yo

★ Due to dying so young he definitely has some mental and emotional intelligence issues, and as far as I remember he's a only child so it adds onto it

★ i wouldn't call him a asshole like everyone makes him out to be but perhaps a little sadistic as a coping mechanism almost?

★ He either laughs in his victims face, or hes very serious and quiet the whole time, if he's in a bad mood or maybe the victim reminds him to much of himself?

★ I don't like the idea of him being a completely useless guy? Like I'd imagine he can cook for himself just fine, probably follows YouTube Tutorials for it and says how it looks great when it's just mediocre

★ But at least he doesn't get food poisoning!

★ His room isn't very clean, i think he'd be able to float being a ghost and all so his rooms floor is rather messy

★ He will clean it up eventually once he loses something he cares about, like maybe he can't find some game cartridge and just starts cleaning up to find it, and then finishes cleaning cuz he got to into it

★ Definitely on the spectrum but I'm unsure where exactly

★ Sentimental guy fr

★ 100% Traumatized from being Drowned but it only really triggers when showering.

★ He can't use the Big shower head cuz the water just pouring on him like he can't freely look around or open his mouth and reminds him of drowning

★ Hypnotically if a kid gets their hands on Majora's Mask, the haunted one, he is NOT killing that poor guy. Although the next morning suddenly their save is deleted

★ He will keep deleting it near that one part where Link can die, till the kid eventually gives up playing it

★ Now romantically speaking i have to join the obnoxious people and say he's a flirt

★ Although I never said he was a good one, definitely having some childish humor

★ Now if you're a woman he's a bit misogynistic, and I'd you're a guy bro is projecting onto you and whinning about you being gay

★ Hes not that bad but I'd seen him being either or both

★ Although I think it's just him not being educated and refusing to, but if you become his partner, you're taking care of that internalized Misogyny/Homophobia

★ But when you start dating he's a real nice guy, he won't bat one eye at anyone else

★ Finds you weird and calls you weird for dating a ghost and might even call you a nerd and saying stuff like "You only like me cuz I look like your dear Link"

★ Which is half true but again he's just projecting

★ He appreciates you for being loyal to him so as I said, he won't look at anyone else

★ I like to think sense he's so computer oriented he has a built in thing in his mind where he just KNOWS the time and date 24/7 subconsciously

★ So he's not forgetting any important dates!

★ Although he's shit at gifts and will probably just look at videos like ""what to get your partner for Valentine's day!" And gives you some lame gift..

★ Don't think he doesn't pay attention however! He just doesn't remember the details, if you like some game or anime you best believe he's getting you merch but ONLY for your birthday

★ Any other holiday or special date? Nah it's just generic basic gifts

★ And don't expect anything if youve only been dating a month and a holiday is coming up, give him a month and a half at least to trust you before he gives a big enough shit to get you something.

★ He's definitely touchy with you, being possessive about you

★ But if he's gaming you better not disturb him unless it's something more layed back

★ He will put a arm around you locking you in by his side, controller still in hand not looking at you

★ During checkpoints or loading screens he will respond to anything you have to say but don't blab while he plays cuz he's probably not listening unless he hears a word he likes (like a dog)

★ For more intimate cases, I'll just say he doesn't like Hickeys, sometimes about you touching his neck and being close to it bothers him a lot

★ Although he's biting your neck 100%, not cuz he loves it or anything, it makes him a bit uncomfortable doing it too, but it's to show ownership in a bit of a toxic way, in his eyes at least

★ I don't think he's a huge manipulator but he's a serial killer so I won't deny the possibility

★ He just needs some love and care, someone to put up with his mood swings and bare his immature attitude when it comes out

★ If you survive a year with him just know you're NOT allowed to break up with him. I'm sorry but he would kill you :(

★ No cuz i genuinely think he would, in a fit of rage and betrayal, although he regrets it forever he still will never recover from it so...

★ Just be nice and patient with him<3

Thank you for the request!

I hope you liked it, i tried to keep my train of thought sorry if it's maybe a bit off, I'm still new to writing and putting my thoughts on paper especially having so many different idea of how Ben would act, but I hope itd not to bad!

† Be nice in the comments plzz 😭🙏

Oh and give me tips on how to tag! I have no clue I hope I did okay..★

[montybooks]

Another one cause it's just really gold

They have another group outing and Saeko is there again. She calls out to Reader that their last talk gave her inspiration and that she drew what she believes Kira looks like and asks if Reader wants to see and she ABSOLUTELY DOES. It'll be funny if the anatomy is so humanly impossible and exaggerated it's hilarious XD and Reader is like "yes yes this is exactly what he looks like". Bonus is Ryuk joins in on the teasing. And then, she also takes out a notebook that contains "romance stories of Kira x Saeko" and asks Reader if she'd like to hear and actually reads it out loud 😭 things like "he looked at me so much passion and lust burning in his eyes, his large arm around my dainty waist, as he whispered words of possession." Reader trying not to laugh and Light trying not to die LMAO.

A few days past, Light and Reader hanging out in his room when Reader gets a call, Light hears Saeko's voice, and immediately snatches her phone to hang up, stating "we're never seeing her again" Reader bursting out of laughter. She then pulls her into a hug and kiss as apology for her teasing <33

HAHAHA OMG THIS WAS SO FUN TO WRITE 😭😭😭

⸻

☕️ Group Outing Chaos Part 2: Kira Fanart, Fanfic & Full Delusion | Light x Reader | Crack + Teasing + Softness

It was supposed to be a normal group hangout.

Again.

Light had come prepared this time: mentally braced, emotionally fortified, and with absolutely no expectations of peace—especially once Saeko strolled in wearing a shirt that said “KIRA’S BRIDE 💍” in glittery font.

You choked on your drink the moment she sat down.

“[Y/N]!” she beamed, sliding into the booth beside you. “Last time we talked about Kira—it inspired me SO MUCH. I drew him.”

You nearly slammed your drink down. “SHOW. ME.”

Light visibly twitched.

Saeko pulled out a massive sketchbook and flipped it open. “TA-DAAAA~!!”

It was… something.

A 7-foot blonde man with 20-pack abs, arms the size of tree trunks, hands too big to physically exist, and somehow six wings—two angelic, two bat-like, and two mechanical—loomed across the page. His face was a mix between a K-pop idol and an angry lion. He wore a cape made entirely of human laws, and was stepping on a bunch of tiny “criminals” with a glowing halo that said “Justice Daddy.”

You were speechless. And then—

“Yes,” you whispered, nodding solemnly. “This is exactly what he looks like.”

Ryuk, who had slinked in for fun and was now looming over Light’s shoulder, let out a chortle. “Daaaamn. Kid, you should hit the gym.”

Light’s soul left his body.

“Oh, and that’s not all!” Saeko exclaimed. “I also wrote something!”

Light: internally screaming.

She pulled out a frilly little pink notebook titled:

“My Dark Angel: Kira x Saeko Vol. 1”

You leaned in like you were about to hear gospel.

“Ahem,” she cleared her throat, flipping the page. “His crimson eyes pierced through the crowd, but they saw only me. He grabbed my dainty waist with his large, manly hand—possessive, commanding, protective. ‘You’re mine,’ he growled, voice husky like thunder wrapped in velvet. I gasped, for I had only known freedom, but now I knew what it meant to be truly claimed—”*

You were dying. You were dying trying not to break down into full-blown wheezing. Ryuk was gone. Literally curled up on the floor. Light looked like he was actively calculating how to erase his own existence.

She kept going. “—he traced his long tongue along my collarbone—”

“OKAY,” Light said, standing so abruptly his chair screeched. “I’m going to get water. From the Alps. Be right back.”

You: completely gone, head on the table in silent laughter.

⸻

🕰 A Few Days Later…

You were in Light’s room, lounging on his bed, flipping through a magazine while he worked at his desk. It was peaceful… until your phone rang.

You answered with a cheery, “Heya—”

“[Y/N]!! I just finished Vol. 2! There’s a scene where he devours me with—”

Light snatched the phone from your hands.

Click.

Call ended.

He stared you dead in the eye and said, “We’re never seeing her again.”

You burst into cackles, falling backwards on the bed. “Light!!”

He looked traumatised. “She said devour. Devour.”

You grabbed his wrist, still giggling, and pulled him toward you. “Aww, baby, I’m sorryyy~” you teased, wrapping your arms around his waist. “Can’t believe someone else is writing self-insert fanfic about you.”

“Can’t believe I had to hear it,” he muttered, still horrified.

You cupped his cheeks and kissed him gently, softening the joke. “Don’t worry. You’re my dark angel.”

He rolled his eyes, finally letting a smile crack through. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

“Damn right.”

⸻

[technologybunker]

⚡Top 3 Ways to Get Electrical Parts in 7 Days to Die (POI Edition!)

🔧 1. POI Runs: Target These Buildings for Big Gains🎯 Trailer Park🏥 Hospital🏢 Apartment Building💡 2. Seek Out Electrical Fixtures & Devices in Key POIs🔩 3. Disassemble High-Tech Devices and Traps (When Found)🧨 Scrappable Electrical Components:🧠 Final Thoughts: Wrench Your Way to Victory💬 Let’s Hear From You! Electrical parts are the lifeblood of your zombie-slaying tech dreams. Whether you’re…

[antoimne]

Tomorrow at dusk- part one

Creepypasta psych ward AU

As I stated on ao3 I’ve tagged this fanfic as Jeff x reader, though I’ve decided to make this a bit more interactive by letting comments decide which pairing you’d like best :) I don’t romanticize/condone things in this fic. Fiction should always stay fiction. Also, I’ve modified creepypasta characters and their backstories to fit my ideas for this fiction better.

Trigger warnings: mentions of SA, violence, abuse, mental illness, (attempted) murder, self harm.

The clock ticked in rhythmic pairs as you stared blankly at the white wall, waiting for the nurse to hand you your daily dose of meds.

The uneven texture of the concrete was too clean, too white—unnaturally so. Or at least, that’s how it looked to you. Then again, you couldn’t fully trust your own perception anymore. Not after all this. Doyle Hospital had been chewing on your brain for weeks, turning it into pulp.

They brought you here after what they called “a serious incident.” You remembered bits and pieces—though whether that was because of the meds or something else, you weren’t sure. The clearest image burned into your memory: storming up the stairs to your room, your father’s voice screaming behind you about “scars” and “sick behavior,” and then—your hands, shoving him down the staircase.

You didn’t even regret it.
He called the police. After a string of tedious legal procedures, the system decided that you were unstable. Somewhat untrustworthy . Sick.
They sent you to Doyle.

Apparently, that wasn’t even the first red flag. You had a habit of self-destruction, sure—but that was your coping mechanism. In your mind, it was an act of kindness. A way to keep your anger from spilling out onto others. You’d always been full of rage and resentment—especially since your father remarried that brat of a girlfriend.
After everything he did to you—the nights, the abuse, his hands where they should never have been—and he had the nerve to act like you were just a “spoiled kid crying for attention”?

You tried not to think about it.

The nurse finally entered your room, passing you a small paper cup filled with pills. You threw your head back and swallowed them all at once. The routine had become your only anchor: dull, repetitive, but safe.
Wake up at 7. Breakfast. Morning “activities”—which you usually avoided, preferring to write or do anything else that helped you forget where you were. Then lunch. More activities. Dinner. Pills. Sleep.

On good days—when the weather allowed—it was possible to go out to the garden behind the hospital. A tiny patch of green space where patients could socialize under slightly less watchful eyes. Still monitored, of course, but the staff hung back a little more.

You weren’t many. Most of the patients were double-convicted—held here under the dual weight of psychiatric care and criminal sentencing. Doyle worked closely with federal prisons, handling inmates deemed mentally unfit for standard incarceration.

And most heartbreaking of all?
Many of them were just kids.
And many were on death row.

You met Jeff first. Your age, maybe a bit older. He had a wild grin that split into jagged scars, a manic gleam in his eyes, and skin scarred with rage. He'd survived setting his own family’s house on fire—tried to kill both his parents. His mother survived. His younger brother, Liu, barely made it. Jeff had sliced his own face open once, in protest against the medication. Said it made his head split in half. They threw him into solitary for a week after that. He was waiting to die.

Liu was different. Quieter. Kinder. A strange softness in his eyes, even through the scars. But sometimes he... shifted. Became erratic, aggressive. Sometimes, he called himself "Sully," screaming at staff, attacking Jeff, only to collapse into himself again when it passed.
Jeff hated Liu’s calm. Called him a coward. Accused him of being the favorite. Liu barely reacted. He’d forgiven Jeff, maybe. But whenever “Sully” came out, his fear was visible—shaking, screaming, needing tranquilizers to be subdued.

You'd also met Natalie. She looked older than she was—mature, too composed for a place like this. She was friendly, grounded. Someone who, if you’d met her outside Doyle, you might’ve thought was just “cool.” But Natalie was here because she’d murdered her family. She’d ripped out one of her own eyes during a psychotic break and replaced it with a piece of clockwork.
Her episodes returned when her meds were late—terrified sobbing, vivid hallucinations. She’d scream about hands on her body, pain, and shadows.
You didn’t judge her.
You understood her.
You shared the same trauma.

Too bad she was set for execution, too.

Natalie became your closest friend here, along with a few others—Toby, Sally, and Ben. The ones you could tolerate best.

Toby was here because he killed his father—stabbed him in the chest. He wasn’t proud of it, not like Jeff. He said he heard voices. Hallucinations. A strange figure that began visiting him after his sister died.
“He was an asshole. He deserved it,” he once whispered to you, twitching. “But I’m not bad—fuck—I’m not bad. You gotta believe me.”

Sally... she was the hardest to look at. Eight years old. She didn’t belong here. No kid did. She’d been abused by her uncle—escaped by faking death while he tried to strangle her. When he drove to dispose of her body, she’d grabbed the wheel and caused the car to crash. Told her mom everything after coming home all bruised and wide eyed.
And what did her mother do? Called her a monster. Accused her of ruining the family.
She was sent to Doyle. “Emotional instability.” “Unspecified tendencies.”
You just saw a child who tried to survive. You wondered if it was even ethical.

Ben was young as well when he was admitted. The police had busted in during a failed drowning attempt—his own father trying to hold him under the bathtub water. Turned out his whole family belonged to some cult. They’d only had Ben to offer him as a sacrifice. He was never loved. Never wanted.
Just born to die.
An outcast. Like the rest of you.

Then there was Helen. Quiet. Withdrawn. He spent all day painting, barely eating. He'd once tried to cut himself just to paint in his own blood. One time, he even asked if you'd let him use yours.
You agreed. Your arms were already a canvas of damage. One more line didn’t matter.
A nurse came rushing in and put an end to it.

“How many times do I have to tell you, Helen? You can just ask for red paint,” the nurse muttered sharply, shaking her head.

Helen barely responded.

“It’s not the same. I need the perfect shade”.

The nurse turned to you, disappointment clear in her eyes. Her name was Jane—young, stern, and professional to a fault. She never let herself get too close.

“And you,” she said, sighing. “You need to stop encouraging this behavior.”

You just stared. She didn’t understand.
Pain was your language. Letting someone else draw it out... was a kind of relief.

“Oh, you like watching the blood, don’t you?” Jeff muttered from the hallway, smirking. “Fucking masochist.”

“Jeff,” Jane warned. “Cut it.”

He just laughed to himself, enjoying the reaction.

“At least I’m not stuck here ‘til I die,” you muttered under your breath.
It was true. You were only supposed to stay a few more weeks. Just a temporary measure. A place to “stabilize” after the “incident.” Some therapy. Some meds. Then gone.
You didn’t belong here. Not like them.

Jeff turned, his eyes sharp and ice-cold. “Quit acting like you’re better than us. You’re not. Trust me on that.”
Then he slammed his door shut behind him.

As Liu passed by, something in him changed. He froze—then erupted, screaming at Jeff and sprinting down the hallway in a frenzy.

Yeah.
You definitely couldn’t wait to get out of here.

[ooogethexxed]

The Trailblazer is so so silly! I wonder what hijinks they'll get up to next!

The Trailblazer is a catalyst of destruction, every part of them screams out in pain as their body stabilizes the stellaron inside them yet they will never feel a moment of calm. 'course, they lie to March and Dan Heng so that they aren't concerned but Welt knows. he knows Trailblazer's pain.

they will continuously poison the worlds they go to through the fact that they truly are destruction incarnate, though they may hold the capability of all paths, they will always be destructive. they truly are alone in their pain, for no one could have predicted it.

they are faced with The Stellaron Hunters and have to wonder what their connection is to them because no information is in their brain, they were like a small, pitiful baby at the start of HSR but now hold three (3) paths. they recognize Blade, Kafka, and Silver Wolf but just barely, they are shadows of a haunted past in their mind.

The Trailblazer will suffer like this over and over until eventually their body gives out and they die, releasing the Stellaron which holds 7 paths inside it. technically, the stellaron in them is the only thing protecting them from becoming a lifeless husk, as they were a constructed body before modeled after someone the Hunters used to know.

they use humor as a coping mechanism because every day they get closer to their death date and then, when it happens, all around them will suffer. they cannot allow themself to get closer to others because what would happen? could they be infected and harmed, too? so many questions whirl around the trailblazer's brain, and even then, there's so little time and answers.

they are destined to die. with each day, the strands of life in their body break and strain. truly, their body is the form of one of the enigmata for it was a shell, forged together with new life.

The Trailblazer can't escape their fate. they do not want to hurt anyone else. they are sorry for the pain they have and will cause.

I love the Trailblazer!!! so silly!!!

[envysparkler]

Whumptober 2024 Masterlist

No. 1: RACE AGAINST THE CLOCK stician + end note

No. 2: TRUST ISSUES unrefusable offer + follow-up

No. 3: SET UP FOR FAILURE purr + end note

No. 4: Sensory Deprivation Flycatcher + follow-up

No. 5: Heatstroke geolocation + missing scene

No. 6: NOT REALISING THEY'RE INJURED Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms | Healed Wrong | "It's not my blood."

leash

No. 7: ONLY FOR EMERGENCIES Unconventional Weapon | Magic with a Cost | "It's us or them."

no hard feelings

No. 8: SLEEP DEPRIVATION Isolation Chamber | Forced to Stay Awake | "Leave the lights on."

exhaust

No. 9: OBSESSION Broken Window | Bruises | “Frame me up on the wall, just to keep me out of trouble.”

unrefusable offer

No. 10: BLOW TO THE HEAD Slurred Words | Passing Out from Pain | "I can't think straight."

cling

No. 11: SEEING DOUBLE Convenience Store | Loneliness | “Leave no trace behind, like you don't even exist.”

grave secrets

No. 13: TEAM AS A FAMILY Familial Curse | Multiple Whumpees | "Death will do us part."

inhibition

No. 14: LEFT FOR DEAD Hunting Gear | Blackmail | “Because I want you to know what it feels like to be haunted”

the other wayne kid

No. 15: CHILDHOOD TRAUMA Painful Hug | Moment of Clarity | "I did good, right?"

haphephobia

No. 16: NECROSIS Swamp | Wound Cleaning | "No, I can't feel anything."

Reconciliation

No. 17: NOWHERE ELSE TO GO Ruined Map | Shipwrecked | "We had a good run."

sink or swim

No. 18: REVENGE Unreliable Narrator | Loss of Identity | “I see what's mine and take it.”

Godfather

No. 19: BLOOD TRAIL Abandoned Cabin | One Way Out | "Is there anybody alive out there?"

unrefusable offer

No. 20: EMOTIONAL ANGST Shoulder to Cry On | Giving Permission to Die | "It's not your fault."

pretty robin

No. 21: BODY HORROR Body Horror | Tattoo Gun | Spirit Possession | “Let the bedsheet soak up the tears.”

leash

No. 22: BLEEDING THROUGH BANDAGES Tourniquet | Reopening Wounds | "Oh that's not good."

whiplash

No. 23: FORCED CHOICE Public Display | Broken Pedestal | "I'm doing this for you."

blood of the covenant

No. 24: RADIATION POISONING Collapsed Building | Equipment Failure |  “I never knew daylight could be so violent.”

favored

No. 25: SURGERY Stitches | Being Monitored | "It's for your own good."

hot wheels

No. 26: NIGHTMARES Breakfast Table | Parting Words of Regret | “I'm haunted by the lies that I have loved, the actions I have hated.”

paying dues

No. 27: VOICELESS Laboratory | Muzzled | “I have no mouth and I must scream.”

muzzled

No. 29: FATIGUE Labyrinth | Burnout | "Who said you could rest?"

padded cuffs

No. 30: RECOVERY Hospital Bed | Holding Back Tears | "What have I done?"

robin's roast

No. 31: ASKING FOR HELP Therapy | Making Amends | "I'm alive, I'm just not well."

wibbly wobbly

Alt 3. Finding Old Messages

paying dues

Alt 4. Forgotten

we're all ghosts

Alt 5. Friendly Fire

burn at the stake

Alt 8. Regret

paying dues

Alt 9. Secrets Revealed

groundhog day

Alt 10. Shivering

the other wayne kid

Alt 11. Survivor's Guilt

unfinished business

[night-market-if]

Answering some bulk questions

I am getting the same kind of questions in my inbox and instead of answering them all individually, I thought I would just make one long post. Hopefully that can clear some things up.

Why is m!pen white and f!pen black?

Mostly because the character of Pen is death. They have no form. Not a real one. Much like the MC, the image they are presenting is a construct. So, when I thought about that, I kind of thought it would be fun to play around with two very different aesthetics (I think in the final edit I might even write them a bit different). I did this for two reasons. One, because I haven't really seen this in ifs. And two, I kind of liked the duality of it. Opposites, really. It sat well with me for the character of death.

2. Why does nothing bad ever happen to Milo? Stop playing favorites.

Bad things have happened to Milo. More so than the other characters, I would argue. I have a feeling this is more from people annoyed that a very specific bad thing won't happen to Milo. Because Milo has watched Malcolm and MC die. Was beaten as a child. Orphaned. Didn't know where his real home was or who he was. Has a ghost for a sister. (who he also watched die). Has been responsible for keeping his best friend sane for quite a few years. And got the shittiest job in the world. He has also been stabbed at quite a bit. Betrayed. And used.

I do a lot of bad things to Milo. Favorites would be if nothing bad happened to him. And defending your characters decisions is not playing favorites. It is just knowing your characters as a writer.

3. Who is your favorite RO?

I have said before that Milo is not my favorite to write. So inevitably I get asked who is. I don't answer this question because I don't want the complaints.

4. Why don't you have stats?

Because I don't like them. I come from much more of a storytelling perspective than a game mechanics one. And don't get me wrong. People that do game mechanics are awesome. I admire them a ton and enjoy their games (though my field is more video games). But that's never what I wanted the Night Market to be. I just want people to be immersed.

5. Do you feel you have to have inclusivity as a writer?

I don't know why I've been getting this one a lot. Might be something going on in the community. The honest answer is no, I do not. I have never felt pressured to have a certain representation within the Night Market. That all being said, maybe I don't feel that way because I tend to have an organically more diverse cast of characters? But I can't say I have ever felt like I have to put a certain representation in. And I don't believe writers should feel pressure for that. Because a lot of times, if you are just putting in a token character to do it, it becomes a bit problematic.

6. What are your favorite IF's and do you have recomendations?

I hate to say this, but I don't read IF's. I've dabbled occasionally in the past but I find when I read IF's, it messes with my head and my ability to write. Now, I read a lot of novels. That is my preferred vehicle of reading. But as for IF's, I probably won't read a lot of them until I am officially done with the Night Market. I struggle to enjoy stories when I feel like it is a part of my day to day job.

7. Why don't you ever speak out politically?

Because that is private for me. I don't want to. I want to provide an escape from the world. Not add to discussions that are being had by people far more adept than me. I leave my political feelings and responsibilities at home.

8. Why can't you provide (insert numerous topics) to the route?

Because coding and writing are a bitch. There is a lot of work that goes into this stuff that isn't always fun. And sometimes, as much as I would like to put something in or have a new route, I just can't. I am one person. A person who has a pretty hefty personal life. I am doing what I can.