#you can take the em dash from my cold dead hands

[sidefanficaccounttohidemyshame]

I wrote a letter to my favorite characters and then they all came to life and came to my house and fucked me dumb?! Part 1/?

This is the most blatant wish fulfillment 2015 tumblr "oi! She doesn't bloody want you" type of fanfiction I would've fucking killed seventeen men for when I was 12. I refuse to edit this. No beta we die like men. This whole thing was inspired by this manga I feel like, if this ever did happen (and yes gods please let this somehow happen to me except maybe not with Valeria I feel like she'd start a meth lab in my house) they would all kill each other in days. We're just pretending Ellie and Dina haven't met in this universe and Owen was a comphet situation that happened yeeeears ago and Ambessa isn't dead and most of the bad things haven't happened <3. We're going to put our suspension of disbelief glasses on and have a good time today. This story works best if you read it like an obviously fake aita post. Enjoy lesbians. Also fuck ai I don't respect clanker lovers, I just like the em dash because it's perfect, and you can tear it from my cold dead hands. Dedicated to Loki, one of the gods I actually work with. Also I was 100% joking about actually wanting them to come life my mental health would TANK if I had to deal with even just one of these people in real life. Ellie's trauma alone would turn my bedroom into a therapists office daily.

Warnings: discussion of sex but no smut this time, masturbation mention, interdimensional sexting, constant threats of murder, guns, reader gets punched, reader is black, first person, the authors obvious self-insert, cursing, I def wouldn't read this at the thanksgiving table, girly reader, she/her pronouns used, and references to vaginas and tits (sorry butches and dolls, if this gets enough traction I'll write a couple other versions of it for u) , literally the most self-indulgent bullshit on earth but I know it'll be devoured

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I've always had a soft spot for the tough characters. The women who look like they take no shit, like if I mouthed off to them they could rip me in half lengthwise.

I'd spent MANY a night with my hitachi in one hand and my phone, opened to ao3, or tumblr—and once, a long, long while ago, wattpad—scrolling through a fanfic about one of my beloved characters.

Sevika. Big. Strong. Loyal as fuck. The type to sneer at the stuffed animals I have on my dresser—I don't put them on my bed cause I don't have enough space for all of them and I can't just pick favorite, that'd be so mean—one second, and have three more sat on a new shelf she built for them the next.

Ambessa. Not evil, but far from good. A woman who'd give me everything in the world and then some. Sure, she's a "warlord" and she'd most definitely have me living in a cage next to her desk, but who am I to not support women?

Abby. Gorgeous and built like a fucking tank. Full of love and a need for control I would READILY hand over to her. The softest out of anyone of my faves for sure. I could spend years cuddled up next to her on the couch, watching romcoms and making fun of each other for crying at the sad parts. And even longer making her little protein packed lunches cut into Sanrio character shapes for her to take to work after the gym.

Ellie. Full of rage and curiosity. She should've been an astronomer in a band part time. She should've spent her weekends going to Pokémon conventions, getting into arguments with kids about whether fire type or ghost type are cooler. She should've made better decisions. She should've done a lot of things. It doesn't stop me from loving her character all the same.

And finally, Valeria. Genuinely terrifying. A woman determined to get what she wants at all costs. Truly independent and full of raw intelligence and cunning. If it's between her and the bear, I'm calling the cops on behalf of the bear, cause I know I couldn't beat her in a fight. That being said, I couldn't change her. But maybe I could show her what life looks like when 'winning' isn't your only goal. Probably not though.

I've read enough about them to write a series of novels on each of them, and that day was no different.

I truly do not know what happened. None of us do. I just know that whatever it is, it was probably stupid.

I had just left out offerings for all my gods, finishing with Loki. I'd bought a bunch of pop rock chocolate bars and I already knew he'd be psyched to try one. I'd placed it on his altar, lit the candle, and out of selfishness more than anything, I started talking.

About my day, my week, my job. How tiring it'd been. I loved writing, and I was happier than I'd ever been being able to support myself with my work, but the deadlines, and the book signings, and being in the public eye albeit how negligible the amount of reach I really had was starting to get to me.

"Don't get me wrong, I'm grateful! I do NOT want it to go away. Let me be 100% clear about that. But I just want some more time to be, you know? Or at least some more time with people who'll let me simply exist. Oh my god, it's just like in this fanfic I read the other day—" I then proceeded to recount every detail of the last few fanfics I'd read, mostly because they couldn't physically manifest in front of me and tell me to shut up.

"Maybe I should try doing some character exercises with them? It might ease my writer's block a bit."

I nodded to myself. Satisfied with my excuse to play around and avoid writing the thing I actually needed to submit before the twenty-fourth.

"Yeah. That's what I'll do. Thanks Loki, you always know how to help me with this kind of thing."

Then I stayed up until four in the morning writing letters to each of the women I listed a couple paragraphs ago.

It did help a bit, actually. Writing a letter to someone who doesn't exist really brings up some deep, uncomfortable truths.

In case you're interested, here's what I wrote. Just scroll past it if you want to get to the fun part, that's what I usually did.

"Dear Sevika,

You're most likely horribly busy. You're a councilwoman now, I'm super proud of you by the way, you've managed to defy literally every obstacle in your way in order to get to a place where you have a chance of helping your community in ways you probably never thought possible, but strived towards anyway. I really envy that about you. You're a lot stronger than me in that way.

There are many things I would change about the world I'm in if I had the tenacity you do.

(Here's where I wrote multiple paragraphs of super personal shit I absolutely refuse to put on the internet, I will put this exact same message under every other one. Sharing is NOT caring, sharing spreads disease.)

Anyway, I think of you often. I find myself wishing you were here, or that I was there. Just with each other. Wrapped in each other's embrace in a comfortable silence. Or just sat near each other even, a jazz record playing on the vinyl you insisted we buy at the thrift store near my house, reading silently while I admire the sight of you in the reading glasses I had to bully you into buying. It's so odd missing someone who's never been there.

Thank you. For existing. You've given me reason to keep going and you're literally a drawing.

All the love."

"Dear Ambessa,

God they don't make them like you anymore and for that reason I grieve every single day.

I just look at you and see such beauty. I have no doubts in my mind that my work ethic and living space would appall you, there's a pile of dirty laundry on the chair I'm supposed to be writing this letter in instead of my bed as we speak. I hope there'd be parts of me you'd see as beautiful too.

(Personal shit paragraphs, I lied about copy and pasting the message. Hi. This is fun. I might throw in one personal thing as a treat in on of these)

I feel the need to speak formally with you despite the closeness I ache for from you. Despite that, I can't help but want to take care of you. I know you're used to pampering beyond what any one person could possibly offer, but in my daydreams, we go out to dinner and I walk you to the pier, and I tell you all the stories I'm too scared to show the world.

I can't tell you how proud I would be to be yours.

Sincerely."

"Dear Abby,

Hi love. God this is weird, I should definitely be working right now instead of doing this. I don't even know what I'll do with this letter when I'm done.

I guess I'll just say that I think you're beautiful. You do so much for everyone around you when life has been anything but kind to you and I truly wish you could have the softest life possible.

I want you in my life desperately. I want to bake cookies with you on Sundays, and braid your hair for you, and have you sit and help me retiwst my hair every couple months. I'd let you pick whatever movies we watched every time as payment. I sound like a redditor. I need to go to bed.

Goodnight, lovie."

"Dear Ellie,

I hope the world is treating you well, even though I know it isn't. I guess I hope it starts to. I would love to hear some space facts or hear you play the guitar or just put on a dvd with you.

(Personal shit again, I bet you thought I'd stopped randomly, huh? This section is just about grief. I won't say towards who specifically, but that's the little glimpse you get.)

I wish you peace. God knows you've fought for it enough.

All the best."

"Dear Valeria,

God you're terrifying. I'd gladly let you ruin my life. I'm sorry this letter is so horny, it's 3am right now. I also just think you're really cool. I don't think I could figure out how to become a kingpin if there was a wikihow article on it. Honestly, there probably is.

I wonder what your hobbies are. What your life would be like. I want to crack open your skull and climb in and just see how you see the world for once.

I'd apologize for that being creepy, but I'm 100% sure you'd say something worse to me and not regret it even a little bit.

(I didn't write her any personal shit. Even thinking absolutely nothing would come of this I didn't chance it.)

I hope it's all worth it for you, in the end.

Kisses."

I didn't sign my name on any of them. Even though I knew no one would ever see them, the idea of any of the letters being read was embarassing on a primal level. The next morning, I got up and burned them in the fireplace before I got my day started.

I fed the cat, I wrote, I answered emails, I drank coffee, I even went on a little walk to the park. I sat on an old log bench and counted every bee I saw, like I always did in the summer.

I went home early, tired despite having done as much in a day as a retired ceo.

I was all but ready to sink into the couch and watch as many episodes of say yes to the dress as I could before I got started on dinner when I noticed my mailbox.

I had my normal junk mail, complete with a random magazine I'd never read but will never unsubscribe from.

And five letters.

Naturally, I called ConEdison the second I could to check for a gas leak.

Mundane before magical, always. It'd make a lot more sense that I had some kind of mental break and written letters back to myself and forgotten then whatever the fuck was in those five envelopes.

I mean how the fuck would mail even work in the last of us?

Nothing though. The gas was fine. I felt ok, but I guess everyone thinks they're ok when they're having a break from reality.

I didn't open the letters for five days. I was scared what I'd see to be completely honest.

In those five days I got three more.

Here's the gist of what they said:

"Who is this? Where do you know me from? Your name isn't familiar, I know you're not one of Babette's girls.

Keep talking. That sounded nice.

Sevika."

"Dearest,

I apologize, I'm forced to assume I'm not exactly familiar with you as you haven't shared your name, but I have to assume we've met before. I can't say I've ever had someone speak to or of me in the way you have. It's amusing.

Pick up your laundry. A clean space can't make your current state any worse, now, can it?

This is by far the strangest proposal I've ever received. But I am intrigued.

Let's see if you'd carry my name well,

You are cordially invited to the Merida estate. I am expecting your presence within the week. Please give me your current state of residence so I can send for transportation.

I'll see you soon,

Sincerely,

Ambessa."

"Hi,

Who is this? And how are you sending mail to the wlf base? No one has seen anyone leave anything at the base and this letter showed up outside. If there is a postal system somewhere I'm not aware of, I'd love to discuss it in more detail and get involved. If you're in the base, I understand you might not want to meet, but leaving for the sole purpose of leaving me a love note when you could've left it at my door is not only dangerous, but very unnecessary.

As for the content of the letter, I'm not sure what to say. Thank you, first of all. I wish I could say the same for you, but I don't know who you are.

What is retwisting? Does it have something to do with Redditor? And where are you finding movies? And ways to watch them?

Please respond to this ASAP. And if you have enough paper to send letters, I'd greatly appreciate it if you could send some as well.

I hope you had a good night's sleep.

Kind regards,

Abby."

"Who the fuck is this? How did you get this address? What the fuck do you want?

Ellie."

"I'm going to find you. Keep that attitude when we meet.

Besos."

The second two were from Ambessa, again. Basically scolding me for not replying sooner.

I wasn't going to respond.

If it was a delusion I was experiencing, it would definitely not have been smart to keep playing into it. And if, some-fucking-how, it was really happening, what was I supposed to do? Be penpals with the most mentally unstable women on different planes of existence as me?

On the other hand, the world is on fire, and the president is evil, so maybe, it'd be worth it to respond a little. Just one letter back each, I figured. Maybe apologizing for being so forward, and explaining that I didn't think anyone would see it or respond, and that I'd actually tossed the letters into a fireplace in fact (Abby was especially stunned to hear that). Maybe explaining to Ellie specifically that I physically could not attack her and I didn't want to, mostly out of being a decent human being, but partially because there was zero chance I made it out of a fight with her alive.

That one letter didn't stay alone for long.

"So you're just, sending these letters with magic? You're a witch? Like Streganonna? How do you know me?" Were Abby's most pressing questions. She also thanked me profusely for sending paper, and bandaids, gauze, neosporin, anything else i had in my first aid kit I could shove in an extra large envelope.

"Fascinating. I have to say I'm even more intrigued now, dearest. Please, tell me where you are so I can send for you." I did not want Ambessa knowing my address. Especially considering whatever curtain kept our reality's separate was obviously breaking, we didn't need an actual dictator being made aware of the current political state of the world (this also didn't last long, I ended up venting about a lot more than my own personal life to her pretty soon. She knows about every war I know about now, and we're pretty much all screwed).

"I didn't ask how you sent it. Or how you knew.

Send me more, cariño. I'll let you crack me open if I can split you in half first.

Kisses." Was all Valeria said.

Ellie stopped threatening me and started asking how I knew her. After that creepy ass letter, it felt wrong to not explain it to her. It did seem like it'd do more harm than good, but what was I supposed to do? Imagine not knowing something like this forever. If she was real it was probably a snapewives situation or something where the creator (fuck Neil, free Palestine btw, the link in my bio has links to help people out) channeled the experiences of people from an alternate universe. That made the most sense out of every other explanation I could come up with.

And it felt like it'd be wrong to only respond to Ellie...

So, I kept sending them letters. For months.

I told them about each other. That went over about as well as you expected.

Ellie and Abby didn't respond to me for weeks, with Ellie just writing back "Tell me where she is."

Sevika and Ambessa clearly had met somewhere before, and refused to elaborate on how or when. But neither of them were particularly fond of the idea of me speaking to the other.

"She couldn't give you the life I could. You'd be royalty. A goddess among men. Stop responding to her." That letter came with several pieces of jewelry that each looked like they were worth about seventeen months of my rent.

"That bitch couldn't fuck you right."

That letter came with nothing.

I sent them photos, and cassette players and tapes of my favorite songs which they were all utterly fascinated by, and supplies for Ellie and Abby. It seemed like any sized package from any store or postal service worked as a method to send stuff, even if it seemed slightly too big for the fireplace. There was never any metal or plastic residue. I tested it frequently.

The more we talked the more I started to dread the idea of the letter s suddenly stopping.

I nearly had a panic attack when Abby let me know she was going on patrol for the first time.

It freaked the both of us out when we found out the letters just showed up close to wherever she was.

I was achingly curious how it all worked, as were they. All of them tried to find more about how it worked in their own way, Valeria especially.

She took the news of being in a video game the easiest.

"I always had the feeling no one but me was real." She'd said.

After a while, and multiple promises that Valeria wouldn't blow up my home if she got the chance to, I sent them pictures of me, my house, my senior cat, who Valeria sent me 8,000 US dollars to take to the vet one day when I told her she was sick.

"I don't like seeing animals hurt. That's all. If there's any left over, spend it on something nice, and send me a photo. Don't send it to any of those other bitches or I'll kill them."

I even sent them memes I saw, that I immediately regretted because explaining memes to people who've never seen them makes you sound insane.

"I could make a better mémé." Ellie had purposefully started miswriting the word meme ever since the first time I told her how it was pronounced.

She also stood by it, and sent me a realistic picture of a dinosaur holding a flower with the words 'this is a meme' under it.

"That is better than every other meme I've seen, you're right." I framed it.

It was by this time I started fully believing it was real.

I can't draw for shit, and unless I was secretly the most talented cat burglar in the world, there was physically no way I could get the money and jewelry I'd received.

I tried to send it all back, but Valeria just sent back 16,000$ and threatened to keep doubling it if I didn't "behave".

Ambessa did similar, except she never sent cash since she knew I couldn't use Noxian currency.

She sent luxurious fabrics, jewelry, body oils that smelled shockingly close to my perfume—which she knew about, cause I sent her a piece of paper I'd rubbed a little of my perfume onto once, cause I'm a whore—and once the most beautiful ring I'd ever seen.

I knew what it probably meant, and refused to speak on it.

I didn't know what I'd say if I did.

I told them about history, Ellie and Abby about the past 22 years, to which they both felt sympathy about, but not much, considering they were living through a literal zombie apocalypse. Reasonably so.

Most of their responses on politics boiled down to "that's awful. What are you doing about it?"

To which I responded "almost nothing, I'm black and also I don't want to get shot and killed by a cop."

Ambessa and Sevika were a different story.

Neither of them were strangers to injustice, but for different reason. After a bit of prompting, they apparently even met in person, and didn't kill each other! Ambessa actually was willing to build a school in Zaun, for god knows what reason. They sent me a letter from both of them with a small, sketched drawing of the both of them sitting next to each other.

I was completely fucking baffled I'm not gonna lie.

It got dangerous fast, the letters.

I never lied to any of them about each other. I told them everything both when promoted and unprompted. I grew to consider them all friends. If not, maybe a bit more. But they were just flirty by nature, they didn't actually mean anything! They couldn't. How would a relationship with them even work?

I found out eventually. Valeria sent me a fucking filthy letter. The kind of thing you need to read sitting down.

And god, I knew it was wrong but I just wanted to make her feel an inch of what I felt for her, so I got my little camera, and I went down to the bougiest lingerie store I could find, and I bought a light pink set—her favorite color—with her money. I took a couple photos of myself in it, sprawled out in bed. Hands dangerously close to my pussy. Then I sent her the pictures as well as said worn lingerie.

"Good girl. Again." She sent it with a brand new set she'd bought for me. And I listened. Because I really really wanted to be her good girl.

I did tell everyone else. God they're so fucking gay, was that actually the catalyst for this?

I think it actually was.

It'd been one day. I was dreading the responses. I knew I wasn't cheating, but I felt something for all of them and I know they all felt the same to different extents and I didn't want to assume what was ok and what wasn't.

I spent the day emailing my editor, asking for clarification on their notes and begging them to lie to me about the date of the next deadline so I could pretend it was earlier and actually finish the third draft in time.

And something downstairs fucking exploded.

I thought it might have been my cat, for a terrifying second before I saw she'd been sleeping next to me the whole time, and had just then been woken up by the noise.

She froze for a second, the way she did whenever someone was visiting.

Then she darted out of the door, to hide somewhere until whatever terrifying thing had caused that noise went away.

Then I heard the yelling.

I fucking sprinted downstairs, running into my living room in nothing but a t shirt that just barely covered my ass I'd gotten from an ex years ago cause I didn't exactly think I'd have company.

And there they were.

They didn't look exactly the same. Noses were slightly bigger, eyes were less pigmented, bodies were somehow fucking bigger than they looked animated, and Ellie's tattoo was slightly less defined than I would've thought it was.

But it was them. All about to fucking kill each other.

Then my dumbass came in, "oh my god, oh my fucking god, please stop! Wait—" then I'd gotten punched in the face and everything went black.

I woke up like ten minutes later, no headache or anything, just a fat purple bruise and an ice pack on my face.

"You fucking murderer. You killed her."

"I did not kill her. I didn't even hit her. It was that one, Vika."

"It's Sevika."

"That's not what she called you."

"No, it's what you call me."

I sat up, grateful for the blanket someone had draped over me.

They all immediately swarmed me, Sevika stepping away from my completely wrecked fireplace that she was trying to fix.

"Darling, are you alright, how are you feeling?"

"Baby, oh my god,"

"I'm so sorry, doll, I didn't mean to, I'd never hurt you, I'd never let anyone hurt you."

"Agehnei koosnb bdhauao."

Or that's what I assumed they all said, it's all kind of a blur. They all spoke at once, reaching for parts of me and glaring at each other.

They were all covered in soot like a bunch of lesbian Santa Clauses.

I started laughing like a maniac, my swollen jaw aching a bit with the smile stretching onto my face.

"Oh...hooooh my god,"

It quickly devolved into sobs, freaking them out even more.

I started scrambling around for my phone, I remembered when I first started researching psychosis that thing where you hold up your phone camera to see if what's in front of you is real, cause the brain hasn't quite figured out how to accommodate for phone cameras when it comes to hallucinations.

I couldn't find it, until a manicured tanned hand passed it to me over my couch, "thank you," I choked out through sobs.

They were there. I took several photos. And videos. They moved and talked and they all stared at me like dogs that had just gotten finished tearing the couch apart.

"Holy shit." I managed after a few minutes of struggle filled breathing.

"Told you I'd get you." Valeria said from behind me.

I turned to her, in complete awe.

She leaned in, "you gonna try on that set for me in person, muñekita?"

A hand swiftly reached up and pushed her back, and she immediately pulled out her gun.

"NO! NO! Ok, rule, no fighting or shooting or killing in or out of my house!"

Valeria huffed, but didn't pull her piece out, so I considered it a small win.

"Ok...you're here...oh my god, you're here!" I said, about the start crying for a whole other reason now.

"If I'd known you'd be this weepy, I would've brought you tissues, dearest." Ambessa said, putting her hand on my thigh.

"Does anyone know how?"

Ambessa gave me the most predatory grin I'd ever seen.

"I made it happen. I told you I'd send for you." She said, not breaking eye contact with me as she rubbed circles along the part of flesh she'd managed to snake her way to under the blanket.

Sevika spoke, "Merdada, you didn't."

I gasped, filling in the gaps as to what she could've meant.

"Bessa..."

"What? What did she do?" Abby asked. I gasped again, feeling more and more like a hallmark movie heroine with every freckle I counted on her face.

"Oh Abby, you sound so sweet." I said, watching her face flush red.

Ellie stepped in, "she's not. She's a fucking killer's what she is."

"Ellie! Oh my god, come here."

She did and I gave her the biggest hug, enjoying her warmth and feeling utterly terrified by the fact that I could feel her rubs through her shirt.

She was pulled away by Sevika and I could tell another fight was about to break out so I moved the blanket and stood up.

"Ok, I haven't eaten since yesterday afternoon—"

A series of grumbles and grimaces were immediately thrown my way, "—so can we sit and eat maybe? I'll order a pizza or something."

Everyone nodded and I opened up my phone, desperate for a reason to not make eye contact with any of them.

It didn't work, cause they all seemed insistent on putting their faces as close to my screen as humanely possible except Valeria.

"Just call, it'll come faster." Valeria said.

"I promise you it won't."

Valeria took the phone from me and promptly called the place for me.

"Any toppings?"

No one said a word. The tension in the air so thick I wasn't completely sure they could hear her over it.

"Just pepperoni. Mhmm. Ok." She said, winking at me.

"Can...can the discussion this warrants wait until after we eat?" I asked.

They all nodded, except Sevika, who promptly went back to trying to fix my fireplace, followed by Abby.

They both needed something to do with their hands, I couldn't blame them.

Ambessa spoke, firmly and swiftly. "I don't see what there is to discuss. I'm here. We are to be wed, and you will be coming back to my world with me."

"Like hell she will—"

"If it's even possible to go back, she's coming with me. Le doy dos semanas antes de que la decapiten y te lleve con ella." Valeria leaned down and whispered into my ear.

"Valeria, literally no one here speaks Spanish, I know!" I interrupted her before she could speak, "I need to learn, but duolingo costs money and is run by robots now."

"Lo hablo. Pero ella tampoco va a volver contigo. ¿Qué se supone que hará cuando te arresten? ¿Esperarte mientras te pudres en la cárcel sin dinero ni posibilidad de conseguir trabajo?" Said Abby.

"Ok, Abby speaks Spanish, no one else does can we please share what you both just said with the class?"

Valeria rolled her eyes "¿Oh? ¿Entonces ella debería ir contigo y ser comida?"

Then Abby reached for her gun.

"CAN WE PLEASE FUCKING CALM DOWN." I couldn't stop myself from shaking, "this is literally the first time I've even seen a gun in person and the five people I care about more than anyone in the world are about to kill each other can we please just take a minute?"

They didn't say anything, just stood, seething at each other.

"Thank you. Can I trust you all to not kill each other in the time it takes me to put panties on?"

Every head turned to stare at me the second I said it, which was the intended effect.

I even stretched slightly, letting my shirt hike up a bit.

"Careful, baby." Sevika said. "You're about to get yourself in trouble you can't get out of."

I am ashamed to admit I shuddered a bit.

"Maybe I want that. Be good and don't kill each other and I'll put on something that shows off my tits." I said before reaching for my tv remote and putting on the sports channel for the first time in my life, hoping whatever was on would be enough to distract them for a minute.

I tried to hold back my smile as I heard everyone but Valeria gasp as the tv turned on.

I rushed upstairs and put on my favorite nightgown. The pink one that was just long enough to be appropriate in company but fit me like a glove, and cupped my heavy tits perfectly, showing off every curve, every jiggle as I moved, every bounce I leaned into a bit more than necessary.

I overheard the surprisingly civil small talk from downstairs as Valeria filled them all in on the rules of soccer (I think?).

"So the game is actually happening right now?"

"Yes. I usually don't have time to watch it live."

"Not a great signal from the mob front?" Ellie said, jokingly.

"What exactly did she tell you?"

I came down just as the delivery guy came by, Valeria opened the door like it was her house and gave him the money in cash before I could reach for my bag.

Then she guided me by the small of my back to the couch.

And all eyes fell on me.

"Eat." Sevika said, opening the pizza box like she wasn't completely unsure how it worked.

I did. And I watched everyone visibly lower their defenses as I nibbled on a slice of pepperoni pizza. My favorite, which Valeria knew. "It's basic for a reason." I'd told her.

Ellie and Abby stared at the pizza like it'd bite them, and it'd be the best experience of their lives.

Sevika turned to them, I watched her recognize hunger on their faces.

"Fucking eat something. I'm not fixing the fireplace myself if you both pass out."

They stared at her quizzically, before I slid the box towards them.

Ellie tentatively took the first bite, hissing when it burned her tongue a bit before devouring her slice in about a minute. Abby followed suit. I just knew if she'd been born here she'd be patting the grease off with a paper towel instead of relishing in the calories the slice had, cause it'd mean she'd have enough energy to live another day.

Ambessa sneered at it. "You couldn't have gotten her something more substantial? Bread with cheese and cheap cuts of meat is what you'd spoil her with?"

"Te dispararé en el momento en que ella no esté mirando." Valeria said, earning a chuckle from Abby.

They shared a brief, soft moment where smirks melted just enough to become something close to a smile for half a second.

Everyone had eaten, and Abby had picked up the box and taken it to the recycling in the span of time it took for everyone to notice my tits were spilling out of my dress.

It was getting dark out, and the cat needed feeding. She'd hide for the rest of the night and miss getting her dose of medicine.

I told them as much, but no one moved to give me a way out.

"You know...Sevika and I talked." Ambessa said.

"Yeah? About what?" Abby said, voice low as she kept her eyes locked on chest.

Sevika rubbed her hand along the back of my neck. A gesture that should've been possessive.

"Sharing her."

[alfalyrae]

Being told to stop using em dashes in my writing because ChatGPT uses them a lot and people might think it's written by AI...

[baileyblight]

Still working on the Cold Skin confession one-shot, been making good progress in my down time while I'm in Ohio. I finished a really big chunk of it and I'm going through the third section again before I continue it to take care of any inconsistencies and.

Yall the amount of times characters "tense up" or "their shoulders stiffen" is a little insane LMAOOO. I didn't realize I used that as often as I did 😭😭 I also use a horrible amount of ellipsis but like. We knew that. That's just a fun quirk about me. I love trailing off, I love long pauses in speech, I will be so annoying and everyone will always use too many ellipsis and you just have to deal with it :)

[eowynstwin]

Omg that last addition to the AC 141 was so cute!!! It just makes me wonder how badly they would freak out when their human misses when trying to catch a tarantula or scorpion and passes out from the sting… high risk high reward

previous

Soap rushes to the museum cafe when it happens, and finds the old lion at a corner table enjoying a cappuccino to some smooth jazz.

“Captain,” he pants, hands on his knees, “the human got stung.”

Price is unperturbed. He blows a little stream of cool air over his mug, eyes closed with pleasure. “Happened before, Soap. Just needs a little medicine, remember? They’ll be fine.”

“No, sir,” Soap gasps, “scorpion.”

A beat. For a moment, he thinks Price won’t react. He remains completely still, expression totally neutral—

Suddenly the lion flings the mug away, splashing an arc of coffee across the table, and then he’s moving fast, sprinting past an indignant, sputtering Brewster, and it’s all Soap can do after his mad dash to the museum to keep up. He doesn’t know exactly how Price knows which direction to run, but he figures it has something to do with the smartphone Price gave you when you first arrived—it hardly matters. They come upon you quickly, on the south side of the island, lying facedown in the grass and attended by Ghost and Gaz.

“Captain!” Gaz barks, visibly panicking. “They won’t wake up!”

Ghost is less flustered than the young wolf but equally distressed. “Price, we gotta do somethin’ fast, humans don’t take well to venom.”

“How the bloody hell did this happen?” Price growls. He gets on his knees to turn you over; you’re out cold, but still breathing easily.

“They were…” Gaz trails, looking bemused.

“Chasing it,” Ghost finishes. “With a net.”

Price blinks several times. He looks between the bear and the lion, and then at the horse. Soap raises both hands.

“What, are we supposed to stop them?” he demands. “You said we gotta let humans be humans, boss, sometimes they’re—well, er, they’re…”

“Mortally stupid,” Price supplies, bushy brows lowering. “Alright. Help me get ‘em home. They should be comfortable at least, while we figure out what to do.”

He says it perfunctorily, as if he’s ambivalent to your life or death, but when Price lifts your shoulders it’s the gentlest any of the 141 have ever seen him touch another living being. Ghost gets a hold on your legs, and between the two of them, with the younger animals following behind, they make it to your front doorstep.

Then—the moment they reach your door, like magic, your eyes suddenly pop open. It startles everyone so badly, Gaz and Soap jump back with shock.

“Price?” you say, blinking. “Ghost?”

“We’re here,” says the lion. “How do you feel, kid?”

“I’m fine,” you say. “What’s going on?”

“You passed out,” Ghost says. “We saw it happen—don’t you remember the scorpion?”

“Gave us a bloody heart attack!” Gaz cries.

“Ohhhh yeah,” you say. “Oh, I’m okay, guys. It’s not the first time it’s happened.”

Dead silence. Soap’s mouth drops open. Price is as still as a statue.

Ghost lets your feet drop to the ground. “Bloody fuckin’ hell.”

He turns away and stalks off, muttering under his breath. If you’re shocked by the profanity (a violation of another of Price’s many rules), you don’t show it.

“Thanks for bringing me home,” you say, looking innocently up to the lion. “I wanted to change my outfit anyway.”

Wordlessly, Price sets you down. You wave to the three remaining animals, and disappear inside.

“My house,” the lion says wearily. He appears as though he’s aged ten years in five minutes. “Someone get Ghost. I’m breaking out the whisky.”

[nereidprinc3ss]

know your fics !!!

ai fics are usually out of character, and while most of the quality depends on the prompt, usually you'll find less description or like narration of what is going on, and more one liner dialogue type stuff that feels soulless, OR, endlessly descriptive, unnecessary writing, that's got you thinking get to the point, jan.

you can pry em-dashes from my cold dead hands, but you will notice if it's used too much in a fic, because some of these em-dashes could be commas, and most times in regular fics the usage of em-dashes is either toned done by the author itself on purpose, or it's done by like Grammarly or something. AI fics, shit ton of em-dashes, and how you know it's ai is if you replace an em-dash with a comma, it's literally the same sentence.

longer ai fics could show plot inconsistencies. they're suddenly some place they weren't before. his hands are in her hair, her waist, her back— how many hands does she have? shit like that. oh, and also depending on which gen ai engine you use, cuss words will give it away. popular models cannot use cuss words, political stuff, or write smut, unless you like pay for premium which i doubt anyone is.

here's an ai generated spencer dialogue (i just said give me something spencer reid would say in a conversation with reader who he has a crush) :

"My emotional processing subroutines appear to be malfunctioning due to the elevated oxytocin levels you’ve instigated," He says, blinking slowly like a confused Roomba.

it physically pained me to generate and read that. fishes died. it called my man a roomba. jesus h fuck. anyways.

here's something i wrote, same context, spencer talking to reader who he has a crush on, just to like drive the point home:

"Yeah, Okay, so, like I was saying, the Maquech beetle is regarded as a symbol of eternal love. In ancient Maya tradition, a princess’s murdered lover was transformed into a beetle so she could wear him on a pin close to her heart night and day," he explains, walking with you towards the bullpen, mug of coffee in his hand, just how he liked it. He had been explaining the significance of symbolism in different lost or forgotten cultures and civilisations. You were in the Quantico kitchen with him, making coffee per usual, listening to his passionate interpretation of Guatemalan huipiles and butterflies, when you handed him a mug of coffee, made exactly how he takes it, when he promptly lost his train of thought. "Uh—I, wh—" he stammered, like he had forgotten every single word of every single language he knew. "I, sorry, I just— uh," "Take the coffee, Spence." "Right. Yes. Coffee." And that brings us to the present with the beetles. He continues. "So that's why, in the Mayan culture, wearing the symbol of the Beetle remains a constant reminder of a true and eternal love." You hum, thoughtful, lips quirking as you glance sideways at him. “Guess I’ll have to start wearing beetles then. You know. As a declaration of my undying love for you.” Spencer chokes out a breath of a laugh, something between a scoff and a stunned exhale, and fumbles with his mug like it’s suddenly the most interesting object on earth. “That, uh— I,” He clears his throat. “That would be… highly symbolic.” He doesn’t look at you, but you catch the faintest blush creeping up his neck, blooming like a secret. You hope he doesn’t notice yours.

is this any good? no. in fact, i think it's ass, actually. i wrote it in like 20 minutes. but it's not soulless ai sludge, and for just that reason alone, it's immediately better to me.

in order to write a good fic, you need not just know the, like, source material, you need to pour your feelings for that particular story into the fic. that's what makes it special.

authors, friends, art is only art if it comes from within. writing takes time. it's frustrating sometimes. most times, actually. we write not because we need to churn out shit and meet deadlines. we write because we love it. it is who we are. and it's okay if your writing style is different. it's okay if you take way too long to write. there's no too long with art. they don't say 'you can't rush art' for nothing.

if you're insecure about the quality of your work, know that it's something all authors feel. the only way to get over it is by actually writing more. by yourself. because if you just generate fics and go to sleep, who is it even for? your writing skill won't improve, the fics don't feel as personal, actual authors who put work into their fics go unnoticed, and no matter how you justify it, you won't feel good about yourself.

we live in a time where we need to remind authors that they need to actually write to call themselves one. it's okay if you think your work is not up to mark. post that lame ass fic. make that fugly edit. draw that misshapen nightmare. do it bad. do it ugly. do it extremely awful. but do it. do it yourself. it's the only way to start.

ai "artists", consider this a psa: you can become an actual artist if you take the time thinking of the right prompts to use, and put that into honing the craft. tumblr is a safe (ish) place. ask questions. learn from artists. be free, dear birds. fly high. fuck ai.

- ironically, someone studying to be an ai engineer (don't worry i am aware of the moral ramifications, i am going to end up a data scientist, i can feel it in my bones, wish me luck!)

Yes yes yes!!!! To all of it!!! This is great and so helpful ty!!!

Also do NOT downplay your talent that little snippet was amazing and I hope u r posting ur fics!! We need as much original content as we can possibly get!

Thank u for taking the time to write all this out, very extremely useful and I appreciate u so much<3

[maddie-2022]

Look ... you can take my excessively long, multiclausal sentences -- making liberal use of commas, semicolons, and em-dashes -- from my cold, dead, lifeless hands; furthermore, you're a meanie and I don't like you -- so there!

feeling called out today

credit: _ADWills

[fangsduobing]

tbsh y'all can try prying my precious em-dashes and the beautiful rule of three out of my cold dead gnarled hands and you still couldn't take them from me

[littlebosleepmusings]

(gif credit: @steverobin)

In Memoriam // Hunted (Prologue)

warnings: none

The street's a liar

I'm gonna lure you into the dark

My cold desire

To hear the boom, boom, boom of your heart

The danger is I'm dangerous

And I might just tear you apart

Oh, ah, oh

I'm gonna catch ya

I'm gonna get ya, get ya

Oh, ah, oh I wanna taste the way that you bleed, oh

You're my kill of the night

an undisclosed amount of time from now, sometime in the possibly near and/or certain future…

Lizzie 1. Inter-dimensional Demonic being 0. Maybe all those springs doing cross-country weren’t completely pointless after all. One more turn of a corner, and she’s finally put some distance between them. With all this running down the halls of the high school, she just wishes she wore running shoes that weren’t as pinched at the toes.

Something that looks like a man, but isn’t a man is hot on her tail and they aren’t letting her get away so easily, without a fight.

Another mad dash around a corner, when she suddenly bumps into a heavy, solid figure. For a second, she thought she was screwed, but she’s relieved to find it’s just you.

…

“Oh hey Mrs M,” the teenage girl says, between winded breaths, as you hold onto one another for balance.

“Lizzie.” You’re out of breath yourself, having just taken care of this guy’s friend.

“Right behind me,” she blurts out, just as the humanoid, figure materializes and reveals it’s hideous, inhuman face. Before letting out one of the loudest, death rattling scream you’ve ever heard.

You quickly, push her aside so you can take care of it.

“Got it.”

Without wasting any time, you whip out your blade and drive it straight through them. Watching as they explode into a cloud of ghastly, black smoke.

Your favourite part about the hunt. Watching their physical form disintegrate when you send them back to Hell. Least favourite is probably the sulphur smell.

“Nice one, Mrs. M.” Lizzie lowers her arms from her face, as you realize she’s on the floor. She nearly gags from the smell.

“Come on,” you say offering her your hand, before pulling her up with ease.

“One more down. Only a thousand or so to go.”

You know she’s exaggerating, but you can’t help but grimace. “God, I hope not.” You’re growing tired of the constant threats on your life and the town as of late. At the same exact time, Hope and Josie appear around the corner of the school.

“All good, guys?” The way Hope still looks at you, even now. Like she’s afraid you’ll disappear.

“Yeah,” you say, sheathing your weapon back in its holster. Smoothing a hand over her hair, you smile at the young girl.

Lizzie starts brushing off her clothes. “Being bait and unable to defend yourself is literally the worst thing. Outfit’s ruined,” she adds.

“At least you were cute bait.” Josie attempts to cheer up her sister.

“Thanks sis...But seriously? I mean we can siphon a demon, but our magic is useless against them. Who comes up with this crap? There should be someone downstairs we can talk to about this.”

Hope and Josie exchange amused glances.

“Alright ladies.” You begin directing them back toward where you all came.

“Let’s get back to the school before anyone notices you’re gone. I don’t want your dad laying into me again.”

Lizzie folds her arms. “Ugh, who cares? He complains about everything.”

“I follow his rules, out of respect for Caroline and the two of you. Plus, I made her a promise…”

“You didn’t follow his rules tonight,” Josie reminds you, with a devilish smirk.

“No, I didn’t,” you admit. “But it was an emergency. I’ll follow em, next time.” You pat Jos on the back in a teasing manner, as the four of you start walking toward the exit.

"Maybe text him at least, to let him know you aren’t dead," you add.

If you know Alaric as well as you think you do, you know he’s likely noticed something was up by now. Your eyes fall to Hope up ahead, chatting with the other two girls.

Call it a parent’s intuition.

[blackandwhiteandrose]

Trivia Tuesday -> What-the-fact Wednesday

Creators: give a “behind the scenes” look at one of your works. This could be things that got removed or changed, the origins of ideas/details, whatever you like!

thanks for the tags @mostlyinthemorning and @hippolotamus!

In the past, I’ve seen/gotten comments about how many people I thank/acknowledge in my author’s notes. I guess some people think it’s excessive or something. If you can make it through the entire writing/posting process alone, you are a far stronger person than I am. 

Being creative is awesome, but it’s also exhausting. I’m a good writer, but I also really appreciate having a group (team?) of people that I know make me better.

So, this is my explanation:

When I thank someone in my author’s notes, it’s because they’ve contributed in some way and I’m big on giving credit where it’s due. Whether it was a line or an idea or answering some weirdo questions I asked them - whatever it may be - I’m grateful that person was involved.

I have my CFOs (chief flailing officials) who are legit necessary to my accomplishing anything ever. Like most of the characters I love, I have a praise kink that can be seen from space. At various intervals or when I get stuck, I need someone to get in the doc, take a look around and go “this doesn’t suck, please proceed”, give me a headpat, and send me on my way to make more words.

I love to get opinions from someone who looks at stuff/processes differently than I do because they’re going to notice things that would never occur to me. As much as I need validation, I also need someone to tell me something isn’t working/sounds weird/feels out of place. 

And a grammar wrangler. I’ll be the first to admit I’ve never met a comma I didn’t want to stick somewhere unnecessary and you can try to pry my em dashes out of my cold, dead hands. I finally (basically) trained myself out of ellipses (you’re welcome). I’ve even gone back and removed probably thousands of them from my earliest fics. So I’m thankful to have someone who actually understands punctuation and is willing to wade through all of my extraneous commas. 

Very honestly, I would encourage everyone who writes to find someone (or several someones) that you trust to be collaborators. More eyeballs and brains produce better results and I’m so glad there are people who are willing to be my  creative process partners in crime. 

[leah-halliwell92]

It’s Over

For @band--psycho​‘s bingo challenge. The prompt is enemies to lovers. Pairing is Tig x Reader

Note: (S/N) = sister’s name

“It was my sister,” you said coldly as you packed your bag.

Flashback

You’d just come back from a week long conference, Tig said he’d be on the road doing club stuff so timing couldn’t have been better. Everything went amazingly well, from your presentation to the doors that had opened for you and your career. Hell you could count the times someone told you to call em if you’re interested in a specific job. You’d done some light research and seen that most are out of state near the Maine area of the U.S. And while that seemed all well and good, you couldn’t just leave the family you’d made behind.

You were making Tigger’s favorite, ready to surprise him by taking it to the shop with promises of play time later. You loaded up the food into your car and made your way to T.Ms a happy grin on your face feeling giddy with all the pent up energy from not having seen your old man in a solid week. Yea there were calls but that shit ain’t the same.

You went through to the office waving at the boys as you passed by. You pressed a kiss to Chibs’ and Happy’s cheeks in greeting as you passed them by batting their hands away from the lunch bag.

“Nu uh,” you said with a grin, “This one is not for you. But let me know what you want me to bring for Sunday dinner and I’ll do my best. By the way have you seen Tiggy anywhere?”

The boys nodded happily but stilted at the question.

“He’s in the back,” Chibs said with a grin.

You noticed he didn’t look quite as teasing as he should have been but chalked it up to jet lag from the bike trip.

Happy didn’t look much better. You were sure if looks could kill someone would be dead with how cold and hard his eyes were.

“Come on little girl I’ll take you,” Happy said with a small smile.

“Lemme put this in tha lounge aye?” Chibs said reaching for the bag.

You furrowed your brows at them and the sudden odd behavior but gave Chibs the bag. You’d never needed any of the boys to take you to the back...

Happy didn’t say much on your way and you were going to say something when you heard moaning and heavy breathing.

You looked to Happy who nodded forward.

You walked up quietly hoping it was one of the prospects getting handsy with a crow eater. Your hopes were dashed at seeing Tig on a chair a woman bouncing on his lap. You covered your mouth to keep from gasping at who it was exactly that was on his lap. Your sister...

You made your way out to where Happy stood a sad look in his eyes.

You pulled out your phone and text widow, ‘Are there cameras in that room?’

You showed him the message and nodded as he confirmed it.

‘Get me a copy of that and make sure her face is visible,’ you typed in.

Happy looked at you startled, he’d never seen you so dead seat on something.

You turned around walked back into the room and took a picture of the deed tearful eyes cold and heart dead.

That done, you turned around and left. Out in the front, Happy and Chibs waited for you both concerned as they looked you over.

You took a seat in the lounge both boys at either side.

“Are ya gonna wait on ‘im?” Chibs asked quietly.

You shrug really not knowing what to do before sighing.

“Is it ok if I crash at either of you apartments?” You asked.

Happy nodded quietly, considering he never uses the place.

“I’ll help ya with your stuff,” Chibs said with a nod.

“No you won’t,” you say with conviction, “Despite everything going on between us now, he’s still your brother.”

“Yea...but if looks could kill he’d be dead,” Happy said with conviction.

You’d become family in the near 5 years you’d been with Tig. You meant a lot to them, even the prospects.

“I promise to keep in touch,” you say taking their hands in each of yours.

They nod and stand one to punch out the other to work the ladder not at all happy with how things ended.

As soon as Happy stepped out to punch out your sister walked out Tig not too far behind her.

“(Y/N)! You’re home!” Your sister said excitedly moving to hug you.

You kept your distance avoiding her hurt look and before she could say anything, you pulled out your phone showing her the picture you’d just taken. 

(S/N) paled at the image.

“It’s not what you think,” she said voice shaky. 

“No you’re right....him and I was not what I thought,” you said voice hard.

She shook her head pleadingly at that but before she could say anything...

“Baby!” Tig cried walking around (S/N) to envelope you in his arms.

You felt sick as he hugged you knowing where he’d been. It also didn’t help that (S/N) had been exactly were. 

“You ok?” He asked when you pulled away, “Did something happen?”

‘Yea you dick you cheated on me with my sister,’ you thought but shook your head and left without a backward glance Happy hot on your heels.

You were heaving from how angry and ready to break you were. Happy saw this and gently held you in place.

“Breath,” he said lowly as you both heard Tig yelling at Chibs.

“I can’t,” you said as tears fell.

“Chibs is being a door stop,” Happy said looking over your shoulder, “But if you wanna leave...”

“We leave after I do this,” you said and walked to Tig’s bike. 

You saw the men freeze as you looked at the bike a not so friendly look on your face.

Before Happy could do anything, you pulled out the knife Tig had given you for Christmas and slashed his tires making sure to leave the knife imbedded in the second tire.

You turn around to see a shocked and mouth agape Happy. 

“Ok...Now I can go,” you said and walked away to your car. 

You were stopped by your crying sister throwing her arms around you as she cried, “(Y/N) please!”

You pushed her off roughly not ready to deal with her yet and ran to your car.

You’d not sooner gotten in you car that you heard Chibs called out, “Move over lass! Ya ain’t in na condition to be drivin’.”

You were about to say no but was pushed to the passenger seat by the Scott. 

“Lemme drive lass, Hap’s holdin’ on ta Tig while ya make yer getaway,” he said with a small laugh as he remembered you’d slashed the bike tires, “Granted he won’ be goin’ nowhere on flat tires.”

Back at home, Chibs found empty boxes to start putting your things in as you told him what belonged to whom while you packed away your clothing.

~End Flashback~

“What the hell man!” You heard Tig yell at Chibs who was loading up the last of two boxes that held your things.

“Babe–”

“It had to be my sister,” you said not turning around continuing to pack your bag.

“Babe please!” He said desperately, walking to where you were and taking things out. 

You slapped his hand, hard, and repacked the clothing he’d taken out.

“And before you start, I saw you don’t give me the “it’s not what you think” crap,” you say as you packed up the last of your clothes.

“It didn’t mean anything!” He yelled.

“It meant enough for you to throw away 5 years together Alexander. Five fucking years I gave to you only to have it thrown in my face cuz my bitch ass of a sister made her cunt available to you while I was away for work,” you yelled turning to look at him, “And the worst thing is that I have no fucking clue how long this has been going on.”

Tig lowered his gaze and scuffed at the rug with his boot.

“How long Alexander?” You asked not really wanting to know the answer. 

“A month...” he mumbled out.

Chibs walked in just as Tig answered the question and looked at his brother in disbelief. 

“You sack o’ shite!” He yelled and punched Tig in the face, “You cheated on the best thing that has happened to ya with ‘er sister for a month! What was it Tig!? Was it the fresh pussy? That she was there? What the FUCK was it Tig!?”

“I don't know!” Tig yelled out as Chibs punched him while he was down, “I don’t know. She came onto me one night I’d mixed two drinks too many and next thing ya know I woke up with her on me.”

“Did it never make you stop and think to come clean!?” Chibs yelled.

“Dude she made me swear not to,” Tig said letting Chibs wale on him for the answer.

You on the other hand stood frozen as everything came to light. 

“She made you swear because of (S/H/N),” you said quietly. 

Chibs turned to look at you questions in his eyes.

“(S/N)’s husband is in the military and is diploid,” you said looking at Chibs, “She’s always been a horny bitch, sad she couldn’t just fuck a prospect and had to go for what wasn’t hers.”

Chibs approached you and nodded to the bags behind you on the bed. 

You nod and he takes them to the car.

“At least now I'm free to fuck any son I want,” you say cruelly, “Because now nothing is sacred, and that is on you. Enjoy the crows Alex, maybe they’ll help you forget about me.”

“But baby I love you!” He yelled after you.

You scoffed and said, “If you did you’d have come to me as soon as it happened. Not gone back for more....fuck you Alexander Trager and hope that this doesn’t make it’s way over seas.”

[docholligay]

Ghost Story

Sometimes I can do things for me, as a treat!! Total universe is here for timeline

Pharah was a woman of action. When Mercy did not know what to do or say, she would pray, and while Pharah wished she had the sort of faith that could give her that strength, the only religion she had ever bent to was that of order. This was what she could do. She could clean Tracer’s nails. She could comb her hair. She could wash and dress her, and ready her to be cremated. 

Others had offered, but Pharah had insisted. It would be too much for Emily and Winston, who had cared so much for her in the last months of her life. They should be permitted to simply mourn. Mercy had done the autopsy, sent out the samples to try to learn something from all this, and that had been enough to expect from her. Her family was preparing everything for her funeral. The rest of the Overwatch team had duties Pharah had assigned to them. 

She would have said all of these were the reasons she had chosen to do it, but there was also the matter of care. Pharah knew that few people had her sense of perfection, her sense of drive and completion, and so it was only Pharah that could be trusted to make sure that her body was properly prepared. It was a duty, something she owed Tracer, to make sure her final appearance in this world was a correct one. 

She smoothed the front of Tracer’s shirt. Mercy’s work had been exceptionally neat and careful, even for her, and the stitches had been so tightly spaced and small, with transparent thread, her own labor of love, that you would have been forgiven for not knowing Tracer had been autopsied at all. Pharah looked at Tracer, dressed in the clothes Emily had given Pharah, washed and straightened and ready for the coffin in the corner, a cheap wooden thing Tracer had purchased herself. 

She considered a moment. Something was wrong. She nodded as it came to her, and reached down, ruffling her hand through Tracer’s too-straight hair, letting the cowlicks fly up. 

“You won.” She looked down at Tracer’s body, “I saved your life once, and you saved my life twice. You died with the greater score. Congratulations.” 

“Saved your life once, Fareeha, in a bleeding miserable patch of desert outside Cairo. Not that I ‘ate winning, mind, but its the principle of the bloody thing.” 

Pharah stepped back in what was nearly a stumble, and looked at the body in front of her. It had not stirred, still cold, and grey, the cheekbones still too sharp and sunken, eyes closed, breath still, heart stopped.

“God, but I look bloody awful,” Pharah’s entire body stiffened at the sound of it, the clear, bouncing impossibility of it, “Not to say as you didn’t do your best, Fareeha, but, you know, cor, blimey, and what the ‘ell..” A giggle. 

“I have not slept well in days,” Pharah said, closing her eyes and breathing deeply, “I have been stressed. I have been jailed. Lena was close to me. I have been thinking of nothing but her.” 

“And I am sorry about that, love,” Out of the corner of Pharah’s eye, a motion at her side, “But I suppose it would ‘ave been the same if it were this week or a year from now, right? Right.” The question she always asked and answered. “Sides all that, if Ang was telling the truth, and of course Ang always tells the truth, about these sorts of things, it would have been a bit of a rough go, dying that way. Maybe would have been worse memories, than me just sort of….” Pharah looked to her as she made a fluttering gesture, “fading away in Win’s arms.” She grinned. “Fareeha?” Her eyes widened. 

“You are,” she took a breath,”  a hallucination.”  

“Right,” Tracer nodded, “you're speaking English because you don’t think I can ‘ear you. Makes sense.” 

Pharah looked at her, and down at her body, and back to her. The Tracer in front of her had round, pink apples back in her cheeks, her eyes were clear and bright with no sign of pain in them, and her voice chirped and popped with joy. The blue RAF shirt she wore fit her neatly, all that muscle that had gone from the body in front of her apparently restored, and her tan corduroy pants wrinkled and straightened as she rocked on her heels. 

The effect was so perfect that tears prickled in Pharah’s eyes. Her brain was a cruel thing. 

“Oh, it’s all right, you big ol Turkish delight!” The hallucination swatted at her, and then launched herself onto the edge of the table where her body lay, dangling her feet, “We all die, don’t we?  I always did rush things, a bit. But I’m alright now, nothing to worry about, love.” 

Pharah stared down at the body, unmoving even as the unmistakable feel of her filled the room. She is dead, Fareeha. You were there when she took her last breath. You carried her body up here. You slipped off her wedding ring and gave it to Emily. Lena Oxton is dead. 

“I am hallucinating.” Pharah said it like a prayer, letting it ring out against the walls. 

“No you ain’t, love.” Tracer barely missed a beat. “Wish you’d all ‘ave let me just ‘ave me body dumped out the door. Seems a waste, this, even after all I saved doing it meself.” She jumped off the table and scampered around to Pharah’s other side. “‘Ave you always been able to see ghosts, Fareeha? You never did tell me that! Leave it to you, ‘ave a secret like that. I’ve nothing like that. Me thumb’s double jointed, I suppose.” She giggled and bounced, flashing a bright smile. 

Pharah closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Rest. All she needed was rest. And still, these mantras being true, a tear sprung from her eye, and rolled down her cheek. 

“Oh God Fareeha, but I ‘ate seeing you cry. I’m only dead, love, and you’d be surprised--”

“I am not sad that you are dead.” She said, the words barely coming out. 

Tracer gave a bark of a laugh. “Wasn’t expecting that. Bit ‘arsh, love, bit ‘arsh.” 

“I am sad,” she gave another slow, deep breath and opened her eyes, “Because when I imagine you this way,” she indicated to her side but did not look there, “I am reminded of how very sick you became. I never told you this, when you were alive. I will not burden you with it.” 

Tracer paused for a moment, bouncing on the balls of her feet. “All right love, all right, but,” She dashed around to the far side of the table where body lay, facing Pharah, “‘Allucination is all I am, right? So it’s only you talking to yourself, not burdening me with nothing, innit? And maybe you’ll feel a bit better, saying whatever it is.” 

Pharah looked at Tracer, whose eyes flicked around Pharah’s face, waiting. She had a point. To refuse to say this to Tracer meant she gave her hallucination power. Her hallucination was not real, and it was only a way to cope with the loss, and so she would only be putting in words what she already knew. 

Yes. This was the most logical path. 

“Watching you deteriorate was one of the most painful things I have ever experienced.” Pharah nodded. “Seeing you be taken, slowly. It hurt.” 

Tracer’s voice was soft, and her eyes were warm. “Could ‘ave told me, love.” 

Pharah huffed and shook her head. “Yes, I should have told you how bad your dying, your suffering, your struggle,  made me feel. That is a very responsible thing to do.” 

“Oh ease up, Amari,” Tracer rolled her eyes, “Talked about it with Win. With Ang. Ang cried, even, god but she felt so guilty. Wish I could tell her it wasn’t ‘er fault, and she did all by me, I mean, I did tell her that, but again, right? And you and me are friends. You ‘elped me, Fareeha, and I’s feeling useless, right? Might ‘ave been something I could have reassured you over, felt better. “ 

“Why would I complain to you about something that is my fault?” She looked bad down at Tracer’s body, somehow seeing her dead easier than the firework in front of her. 

“I do ‘ave to say that discovering you’ve been Moira O'Deodorant all this bloody time is a bit of a shock, love.” 

 Pharah turned away from the table, and put her hands behind her back, pacing just a little bit away, eyes flicking to the coffin now and again. 

“Do you remember when we were captured? And tortured?” 

“No, Fareeha,” came the annoyed chirp behind her, “completely bloody forgot about the most painful experience of me life, that ended up killing me, slipped me bloody mind, it did.” 

“My mind does a very good impression of you.” Pharah shook her head and tried to take a soothing breath. “You drew her anger. You needled at her, you annoyed her. You made her furious, and so she did not hurt me as badly as she did you.” 

“Alright,” she walked up next to Pharah, arms crossed, “What were you meant to do then? Die as well?” 

“I could have saved you,” The tears choked in her throat again, the painful guilt that had run through her mind with every one of Tracer’s struggles, her spasms and seizures and suffering, “If I had been faster with my tongue--” 

Tracer laughed. “Right, love, and if I was 190 centimeters, then. Fareeha,” She put her hand on Pharah’s elbow, and Pharah swore it felt warm, “I did what I did because I wanted to do it. You couldn’t ‘ave saved me, love, anymore than Ang could. Moira’d had it out for me for a bloody decade. Would have all ended the same, but,” she smiled, “I got to save you. And when things were ‘ard, I thought of that. She was going to kill me one way or the other, and you can count on that, but now I know Overwatch is in good ‘ands. Your ‘ands.” 

“Still--” 

Tracer put her hands on her hips and stood in front of her. “What you’re saying is you wish it was me felt guilty, instead of you? Not very kind of you, Fareeha, I’d be bloody miserable in your position, so you’re saving me a bit of trouble by ‘aving me die instead.” 

Pharah looked at her, letting the tears fall quietly. 

“I will miss you.” 

“Suspect you ‘aven’t seen the last of me,” she stood on her tip toes and wiped a tear from Pharah’s cheek, “Thank you, for ‘elping with me. This, but also, the washing, the cooking, everything, when I was poorly. For ‘elping Win and Em. I love you too, Fareeha.” 

“You can’t really be here.”

“Doesn’t matter, love, if I’m ‘ere or not. Makes you feel a bit better, seeing me, and let’s not worry too much about me reality. I’m ‘ere for now.” 

Pharah nodded, took a deep breath, and turned around, lifting the light body into her arms, and laid the shell of what had been a strange and wonderful friend into the unstained, plain little coffin. 

She chuckled as she stood up. “You spared every expense on this.” 

“Bloody fucking right I did, you see how much a casket is? To be set on fire?  That’s a shipping crate, it is, bought it online, ‘ad it shipped to the ‘ouse.” 

Pharah roared with laughter. There was no one like Lena, in this world, and if imagining her kept her here a little longer, well, maybe she would allow herself a little belief.

[sgtbradfords]

“Is that my shirt?” For a Chenford prompt! Love your writing♥️

Thank you for the prompt anon! I hope this does the prompt justice 😉

Send me a prompt from this list!

When Lucy Chen woke up that morning it wasn’t to the sound of her alarm, no. It was to the sound of a fist banging on her front door before Jackson West barged into the room.

“Chen! Let’s go, we’re going to be late!” She heard as she startled awake, sitting up.

“Shit!” She yelled throwing back the covers as she stumbled out of the bed, her body wavering as her feet hit the floor.

“What happened?” Jackson asked from the doorway as Lucy began to run around her room.

“I don’t know! I think my phone died last night while I was on the phone with-“ she began telling him as she threw on the first articles of acceptable clothing she could find. “Can I borrow your charger in the car?”

“Sure. But hurry we're going to be late.”

“Thanks roomie!” she yelled as he walked out.

Lucy hurriedly finished getting dressed, throwing on a pair of flats to go with her outfit before grabbing her duffle bag, keys and phone before running out of the apartment. She took the stairs down, two at a time, towards the main floor, swinging the metal door that separates the inside from the outside as she sprinted to Jackson’s waiting car.

“This is not how I wanted to start my Friday!” she huffed to her roommate and friend as she shut the door, buckling quickly as they headed out onto the street.

Jackson held out his right hand, a wrapped breakfast bar laid in his palm. “I grabbed you breakfast.”

Lucy took it, unwrapping and taking a bite as she plugged up her phone. “Thank you.” She said between another bite.

“So, who were you talking to so late last night that caused your phone to die?”

Lucy grimaced. “You caught that huh?”

Jackson nodded. “If you’re not ready to talk about it, that’s ok. But at least tell me you ran a background check on him.”

She snorted. “I did and I promise that his intentions are sound.”

“His intentions?” Jackson questioned, looking over his sunglasses to the girl in the passenger seat. “And just what is that supposed to mean?”

“It means that it’s kind of serious.” She shrugged. “We’ve been on a few dates. He’s been to mine, I’ve been to his. He even FaceTimed my parents once.”

“He’s met your parents? And just how long has this-“

Jackson began to ask as Lucy’s phone charging in the cup holder began chiming. She picked it up, scrolling through her missed messages.

“Huh. That’s weird.”

“What?”

“I got a message from Grey telling me to plain clothes it today. Wonder what that’s all about.”

“Special assignment maybe? We are P2s now.”

Lucy furrowed her brow as she fired off a text message before she began fixing her hair into a bun. “Maybe, I guess we’ll find out during roll call.”

They made idle conversation going down the road as Lucy fixed her light make-up, Jackson steering the car into the parking lot, parking in their normal spot. “Hey, did you finish that report about the robbery from yesterday?”

Lucy grabbed her things, exiting the car. “Yeah, I need to thank Nolan for the backup. If he didn’t show when he did, I would hate to think what could have happened.”

They enter the department, Lucy telling Jackson about the two men who tried to rob the convenience store granny before they went their separate ways to the locker rooms.

Lucy placed her bag into her locker, grabbing her badge, holstering her gun, and double checking her ankle holster before she pocketed her knife.

“Hey, good catch yesterday with the Gardner Twins. They’re regulars, always in and out of jail but I heard that the old woman held her own?” Nyla congratulated as she adjusted the duty belt she just put on.

Lucy laughed, heading for the door. “Yeah, when I pulled up on scene, she had one held at gun point and the other at cane point which would have been nothing if it wasn’t for the blade sticking out of it.”

“Sounds like that is one grandma not to be messed with.”

“Definitely not, she had brass knuckles and pepper spray in her purse too.” Lucy told Nyla as they entered the meeting room, both taking their respective seats with the others at their tables in the back.

Angela Lopez walked in, sitting down beside Lucy. “Morning.”

“Morning.”

Angela turned around to Nyla, asking a question before she turned back around to the front. “Nice shirt.”

“Than-“ Lucy began saying as she looked down, stopping her words in their tracks. ‘Oh no.’ her mind repeated frantically. In her haste to get dressed she didn’t pay attention to the shirt she put on, sure she knew the olive green color, knew it would match her dark washed jeans but ‘I should have looked in the mirror.’ was really a statement she needed stamped on her forehead.

“Morning.” Tim said as he sat down in the chair next to Nyla. “You get a special assignment or something?” he asked, looking at his former rookie.

Lucy was still amidst her internal conflict. ‘Should I go change? How could I have been so stupid, this is what I get for not laying my clothes out last night.’

“Boot!” Tim said sternly, his voice a tone he hasn’t used on her in a while, pulling her out of her stupor.

“I’m sorry, did you ask something?”

“Yeah, what’s with the plain clothes?”

Lucy shrugged. “Grey told me to dress down.”

“And that means wearing your boyfriend’s shirt?” snorted Angela as she took a sip of her coffee.

Lucy panicked. “Oh this? This isn’t my boyfriend’s, it’s Jackson’s.”

“Jackson was in the Army?” Angela smirked, pointing out the green shirt with black lettering.

“No, it’s Sterling’s. He wore it on that military movie he made a few years ago.”

Angela looked at her incredulously before glancing at Nyla and Tim who was watching the interaction with great intent. “Uh-huh.”

“Alright let’s settle down and get to it…” Sergeant Grey said as he took his place behind the podium.

“What’d I miss?” Jackson asked as he quickly sat down in the other chair opposite of Lucy.

“My funeral.” She mumbled.

Jackson turned slightly “What?”

“Nothing.” She said quickly as Grey glared the two down.

Thirty minutes later Sergeant Grey had given Lucy her assignment, assisting the Bureau of Alcohol Tobacco Firearms and Explosives undercover at a local bar that was serving alcohol to minors.

“Hey, wait for me.” Said the voice of her former training officer behind her. She slowed her steps, allowing him to join her. “You want a ride?”

“Sure. You set?”

Tim motioned his head towards the garage bay, “Let’s go.”

Lucy may have been the most under qualified of all the female officers in the department to go undercover, but she had what the ATF was looking for and everyone has to start somewhere. She felt a sense of relief when Sergeant Grey partnered her with Tim for the day, the newly appointed Sergeant providing backup in case things went sideways.

“So, what’s your cover again?” Tim asked. He would be parked nearby, listening in with another ATF field agent as Lucy went on a ‘date’ with one of their agents while two others attempted to get served alcohol.

Lucy read the paper in her hand, the information vague besides the location of the bar and who they would be meeting with outside of the bar.

Tim nodded. “Did you bring another shirt?”

“No, Grey didn’t tell me anything other than to wear plain clothes, which I didn’t see till I had already left my apartment.”

“Isn’t that my shirt?” he asked, smirking.

“Apparently I feel asleep talking to someone on the phone last night and never plugged it up, which caused my phone to die, so my alarm to never went off and Jackson had to wake me up. I was in a bit of a rush this morning getting dressed and thought I was putting on my olive swing top.” She glared.

“I’m not complaining, you look better in it anyways.”

“Yeah, well I’m pretty sure Angela knows it’s yours.”

Tim shrugged “She’s a Detective for a reason. It was cute you know.”

“What was cute?”

“Hearing you snore.”

Lucy opened her mouth “I do not snore!”

“You do.” He laughed. “I can’t believe I never noticed it before last night.”

“I was tired, yesterday was a long day. Besides, it’s probably nothing compared to the logs that you saw at night.”

Tim looked at her before agreeing with what she said. “I’m not going to deny that. But at least my feet don’t feel like blocks of ice.”

“I can’t help that my feet stay cold! I don’t like wearing socks to bed.”

“Lucy, I don’t mind being your personal heater but maybe it wouldn’t hurt to keep an extra blanket or two next to the beds.”

Lucy thought for a moment as she pulled her hair out of its hold, tousling the brown waves. “Fine.”

“Or we could just make it bed, as in singular.” He offered as he parked the shop next to the curb.

“Is that your way of asking me to move in with you?”

“I don’t know, is it? We've been together almost a year, we're both in a good place right now and half of your closet is in my bedroom closet."  He reminded her as he grabbed the handheld radio mounted to the dash.”7-Adam-19 show us out for special assignment.”

“7-Adam-19 10-4.”

“You don’t have to answer now, we can talk about more after shift.” He told her as he stepped out of the car. “You ready?” he asked as Lucy nodded her head, moving towards the small group of people on the sidewalk. “Let’s knock ‘em dead boot. Agent Edwards? Sergeant Tim Bradford this is Officer Lucy Chen, glad we could assist you today.”

[ennui-gt]

heeeeey i uh wrote this a WHILE ago and its not gt so dont like click if ur lookin for that, its just a little um. drabble of violents, u kno. just a little bit of. a dash of terrible is all. the ending's altered slightly from the original which i have Yet to be able to locate so that's great, but uh. Yeah!! yeah here it is. tw: bodily harm (kinda graphic), ssssome Hints at like family issues, and cursing. story below!

They’d been tricked. All of them. Every last warrior of the Garden. This wasn’t a battle, not a war to be won, this was massacre. The cold blooded destruction of thousands. Mutilated corpses lay scattered around the nameless soldier as he forced himself to his feet, taking large chunks of the blood-soaked ground with him as he rose. It stuck to his hair and armor, to the exposed back of his legs and arms. Not even the pouring rain was enough to wash it away. He stumbled and stuck his longsword into the ground for balance. With a shaky breath, he pulled his dagger from its sheath and pointed it at the culprit. “MONSTER!” he roared, charging at her.

The woman dodged swiftly, looking a little surprised to see him still putting up a fight. She knee’d his midsection and took the blade before he could even think, then grimaced at the grime that’d rubbed off onto her trousers. “Ugh. Look at what you made me do! Nine’s gonna kill me for getting dirt on my formal uniform.” she grumbled as if she wasn't already thoroughly bloodsoaked, “‘I told you not to wear that while conducting business, Seven, don’t kill the villagers, Seven, would you quit setting the tablecloth on fire, Seven, be more like Two, Seven,'” she mocked, barely acknowledging the soldier dry-heaving on the ground, “I mean really! What am I, chopped liver!? Why does she keep comparing me to Two!? We’re not even that similar! Like yeah, sure, we’re both from the same planet, but that’s basically all we have in common.” she babbled, pacing back and forth and throwing her hands in the air every now and again for emphasis.

He swallowed the bile rising through his esophagus and snarled, or at least attempted to snarl, “You—you won’t get aw-away with this!”

It came out as more of a choked whisper, but the woman heard it nonetheless. Her head snapped down to meet his fearful glare. “Oh wow, what? Still able to shout needlessly heroic tropes, I see!” She grinned, “Like, buddy, bro, my good dude, sir. Let’s be real here. I already did! Everyone else is dead, ‘cept you.” she said, taking a step back to make a sweeping gesture over the corpse-ridden field, “Your army, your generals, everybody, all deceased. No one has not been successfully un-alive’d. You’re an actor putting on a show without an audience! A waiter at a shit restaurant where nobody ever goes because they’re all fuckin’ dead. It’s kinda sad, actually. Maybe even a little romantic! So uh, I’ll tell you what. You got a dying wish or someth—areyoufuckingshittingmerightnow.“

The soldier had collapsed while she’d been monologuing. He was dead. He didn’t even have the decency to stay alive for her villainous monologue. The nerve of some people. She pulled a sword out of the ground and stood him up, driving the weapon through his skull, spinal column, and then the ground to keep him steady. Taking his dagger with her free hand, she made an incredibly imprecise y-incision working off of a distant memory. Fluid and chunks of guts spilled out of his abdominal cavity as she watched, smirking to herself.

That’d show them.

Seven was never quite sure of who ‘them’ was, but she knew that she had to show ‘em. It gave her a feeling of validation in a world that would otherwise be without meaning.

An electric blue flash of light illuminated her handiwork for a few moments, making her groan loudly, “Two, Five.”

“Jesus fucking Christ, Seven. What the hell’d you do to the poor guy?” Two asked, barely able to look at the body without gagging.

Five was as emotionless as always, so he merely quirked a brow and asked, “Haven’t you ever been told not to play with your food?”

“First of all, he was dead before I gutted him.” Seven replied curtly.

“That makes it worse!” Two hissed, disgusted by the other’s behavior, “Five, tell her that it’s worse.”

He shrugged. “I don’t see why it would be better or worse either way.”

“Yeah, Two. And it doesn’t even matter! It’s just a game. He’s an NPC, I can do what I want.” she huffed, peeling back the ribs to get to his lungs.

Five and Two exchanged looks for a moment, making Seven bristle. They think I’m fucking nuts, but they’ll see. Nine believes me.

Two shook their head and opened the portal, “C’mon, Sev, let’s go.” they sighed, taking Seven by the hand, “Five will clean up the mess.”

Seven hissed and clawed at Two to no avail while Five began torching the battlefield. “Lemme go back to pop the lungs, at least!” she whined.

Two’s iron-clad grip only loosened after the portal had closed, leaving the pair in a foyer of sorts. A rich, cherry-wood door stood behind them, inlaid with silver and iron in swirling patterns. Below them, checkered tiles stretched across the floor. Above them hung a silver chandelier framed by a set of cherry stairs that were carpeted with a deep bourbon runner. It was sparsely furnished, a couch in the corner and a console that held an ornate vase hugging the opposite wall.

Two threw Seven on the ground away from themself. “Go get cleaned up before Nine sees.” they spat, “I’ll stall her if I need to.”

The sharp clatter of heels and the slight rustle of gossamer silk echoed in the large foyer, stopping at the top of the stairs. Both Two and Seven looked up to meet the stern gaze of their superior. “Stall me to prevent what, Two? Another firsthand look at of Seven’s gruesome failures?” Nine asked, looming over them from the top of the upper staircase, “It’s a nice sentiment, dear, but you don’t need to bother.” she sighed, brushing past.

[an-au-blog]

AAAAA I'm obsessed with this! I've actually been overthinking this for the past couple of days and I need the context in 10k words or more please ;-; (but also ik I'm not getting that so... ig I'll have to make the context myself)

(I'm sorry in advance... Also imma use they/them for Sanji bc the vibe demands it and I'm scared to misgender em)

But then there it was... the door bell. Sanji begrudgingly stood up from where they faceplanted themselves on the couch. They swing the door open ready to kick someone's ass but the anger slowly simmered into confusing until it boiled down to realization.

It was date night, or at least it was supposed to be date night. Sanji had just finished a 14 hour shift and felt like collapsing on the nearest surface and waking up same time next year.

Sanji had forgotten about date night.

"Are you going to stand me up even when I come to your home?" Zoro asked with a dash of sarcasm.

Sanji's guilt made way for irritation. Their day was way too long to put up with this no matter if it was warranted or not. "Fuck off," Sanji spat but still stepped aside for Zoro to walk in.

It was only when the marimo left the bag on the table that Sanji noticed he brought food. "You know, I expected you to be late by a little but you left me hanging for an hour and a half, cook," Zoro hung his jacket and scarf on the rack. "You look like shit, did you even plan on coming... ever?"

Sanji rolled their eyes and took out a cigarette "Fuck you, moss head, I've been at work until now!" They peeked in the bag with food, "you should have known I had a shift at the Baratie today, I sent you my schedule!"

Zoro lifted his arms in exasperation "You okayed it!"

"When?" Sanji made a sour face. There was no way they said okay after a soul crushing shift like that.

"Look!" Zoro held up his phone. Now that Sanji looked at him, he was quite nicely dressed. Not in a suit, but nicely in Zoro standards. "Tuesday 11:54," he continued "I said "are you still free on the fifth", you replied "I might be dead but sure". And then I sent you the location!" Zoro was pointing at the little speech bubbles on the screen. He was right. Sanji had said yes.

Sanji blinked a couple of times. He squinted and got a bit closer to Zoro. "Are you... are you wearing aftershave?"

"Well excuse me for trying to take my spouse somewhere nice!"

Sanji walked over to the kitchen for a fork and started digging into the aluminum box of food. "I have a migraine can you not be an asshole for a bit?"

Zoro's shoulders relaxed and he walked over to the cook. They were sitting on top of the counter, with a forkful. They turned the utensil towards Zoro as an offer, who had positioned himself between Sanji's knees.

"It's for you, curly. I already ate..."

"While you were waiting?"

He shrugged "I already had a reservation, would be a waste."

Sanji smiled but their hand didn't falter until Zoro finally gave in and took the bite. The cook's smile widened, "good moss," they pet his hair like one would a dog. Though, surprisingly for Sanji, Zoro leaned into it, relaxing in their hold.

Sanji, now cupping the marimo's cheek, guided his head so that they could rest their forehead on his. A deep sigh left them as they let themselves rest their eyes. "You have no idea what a hectic day I've had."

Zoro wrapped his arms around their waist. "Tell me," his voice was soft and gentle, whispered only for their ears.

Sanji could feel their migraine coming back just by thinking about it. "Zeff wasn't feeling well, so he left early and I had to deal with all the idiotic costumers. One complained about the gazpacho soup being cold. Can you believe that?"

Sanji hadn't noticed when Zoro had taken their fork and stabbed another bite. He held it up for Sanji to eat. They didn't protest, since they were now playing with the hair on Zoro's neck with one hand and gesturing angrily with the other.

By the time the meal was finished Sanji was still ranting. "And then, to top my already fantastic day, turns out I have a shift tomorrow as well!"

"Take it off."

Sanji looked at Zoro, upset. "You better be talking about my clothes because there is no way you're telling me to take a break." They rolled their eyes "and to both, the answer is "no", in case you haven't guessed."

Zoro scolded his expression into an offended one, "Why are you acting like I don't have the right to worry about you?"

Sanji clicked his tongue "Unless your name is Red-leg, you have no power over me marimo."

"Then I want it."

Sanji laughed but Zoro was dead serious. The cook's smile faltered. "Pardon?"

"I want it. I want your last name! What don't you get?" Zoro persisted.

Sanji was running on a pack of cigarettes, three coffees and two hours of sleep. There's a high probability he was hearing things or misunderstanding. "I don't think you understand what that implies. You want my last- you want Zeff's name?" He winced. "Stop talking nonsense, you overgrown garden plant!"

"I'm serious!"

"No, you're not!" Sanji jumped off the counter and started pacing. That bafoon could not be proposing now of all times. They looked foen at what they were wearing - a loos blouse and a tracksuit.

Zoro followed after them. "I want to take care of you, for the rest of our lives! Is that so bad?"

"No, no, no, no," Sanji kept muttering under their nose. "I need a fucking cigarette." They turned to their boyfriend, pack and lighter in hand "Yes, no- you can't! You- were not even living together-" Sanji shouted.

"Want me to fix that right now? Don't test me, ero-cook!" Zoro shouted back.

"How does you brain even work? Assuming you have one!" Sanji needed an excuse, "Premerrital relations are a sin, you sick pervert!" They were counting on Zoro not understanding what that meant, getting confused and dropping it.

"What? You want me to marry you? Because I will!" Zoro was quick to spit back. Too quick.

Sanji was terrified. The cigarette in their mouth wasn't enough, they needed another. As they pulled a second one, they saw Zoro also put his hand in his pocket. He was taking something out.

Shit.

Shit, shit, shit, shit!

Sanji didn't have time to think. So they just acted. They quickly spun Zoro to the direction of the door, opened it and quite literally kicked him out.

They slammed it shut and quickly locked it behind themselves. Sanji slid down to hug their knees.

The clothes, the fancy dinner place, the aftershave... what was that idiot thinking.

They needed another cigarette. They also needed to call Nami. And quick.

zoro proposal aftermath (she didn’t say no just kicked him out)

[throwing-summers-at-the-walls]

It was so predictable that I'd write something about AI for the creative writing class lmao irrelevant brain goes brrrr

I have like 6 different versions bc I had to edit a lot, to get down to 500 words and to remove dialog (bc the teacher told us we shouldn't use dialog so fucking late), so maybe I'll post the original version along with the final version.

Also I realized that this whole time I've been using en dashes instead of em dashes in my fics lmao I thought they were too long, I didn't know em dashes were that long. I thought the en dashes were em dashes and the em dashes were just some weird even longer dashes. You're not supposed to use spaces around them so I didn't but I think it's ugly lmao. And I also remembered that in English there's no space before question/exclamation marks so I removed these too but ew I don't like it. You can take that space from cold dead French hands bye.

[returnn-of-the-mac]

Can you do a companions + others to sole being a murderer

Hope ya’ll like them reacts where 85% of the companions hate your guts— cuz this is one of them! Please enjoy! 😊

FO4 Companions (+Others) React: Sole Being a Murderer

Sole and their companion were on their way to Salem when the pair decided to camp out for the night.

At some point in the wee hours of the morning [companion] woke up parched. As they were crawling over to the supply stash, they noticed Sole was missing and heard some commotion beyond the bushes they were sleeping behind.

[Companion] peeked over the shrubbery and witnessed...what appeared to be Sole harassing a pair of innocent settlers. They watched in horror as the duo pled for their lives.

“Please,” the man stated, “Just let my daughter and I go. You can have anything. ANYTHING. Y-you can even take our Brahmin!”

Sole smirked and held out their hand, as if to make a deal, but suddenly drew a blade and sliced the unsuspecting trader’s throat.

“Dad!” A younger woman yelled,. She angrily turned her attention to Sole, drawing her gun, “You killed him, you asshole!”

Sole quickly dashed over to the woman and slit her throat as well.

That’s when [companion] emerged from their hiding spot.

...

Nick: You monster! How could you do that to innocent people? [draws gun] Turn yourself in, kid. I don’t want this to get ugly.

MacCready: Theft is one thing, but murder? That’s low. I can’t just stand by and let it happen. If you’re going to continue to off people, then you’re gonna haveta find a new traveling buddy.

Hancock: Who the fuck do you think you are? Deciding who gets to live and who doesn’t? That’s the kinda playin God typa shit that I stand against [pulling knife] You best get the fuck out of here, punk. And don’t speak to me ever again.

Curie: ‘ave you no shame? No morals? ‘ow could you be zo cruel to a young woman and ‘er father. You’re be’avior ees truly despicable. I don’t know eef I can travel wiz you anymore, [Madam/Monsieur]!

Codsworth: What has this cold world done to you, [sir/mum]? I...I can’t be a part of this. I’m going back to the house in Sanctuary. Please, just don’t visit, and don’t speak to me ever again.

Strong: Human kill other human, good. But these human no try to hurt us! Bad! Not finding milk, human!

Cait: Shite! Thanks for the early mornin entertainment, darlin [kneeling next to females corpse and snagging a locket] [holding it out to Sole] This oughtta be worth somethin, ye?

Ada: You’re no better than the robots who killed my friends, [sir/ma’am]...

Longfellow: Murderin innocents, huh? You’ve really decided to stoop that low. You know who else kills innocents? Raiders, Trappers, Children of Atom, animals. You’re no better than them. I’m going back to the harbor. Don’t follow me.

Piper: How could you that!? That was so...so cold! So brutal! So...heartless! I can’t stand by you anymore. I’m leaving, Blue!

Gage: Ha! Nice one, boss! Don’t forget to loot em! We need all the caps we can get round these parts.

Mags: I commend your brutality, however, maybe you should reserve your energy for the murders of settlers who may...[shoots a disgusted sideways glance at the corpses of the traders]...actually be worth something.

Mason: OOOooHooO! Now THAT is some Pack behavior that I like to see! You’re an animal!

Nisha: Now’s the fun part [chuckling] Dissecting them.

Deacon: Was that supposed to be some kinda joke, because it wasn’t funny. I trusted you to guide the Railroad, and this is who you really are. Des was right. Don’t ever come back. You’re dead to us.

Desdemona: I knew it. I could tell just by speaking you that there was something off. You’ve violated our trust. You can no longer be a part of our organization. Leave immediately. You’re no longer welcome here.

Danse: [infuriated; laser rifle drawn] The hell was that!? I should have known you were a callous killer based on your behavior. How could I have been so naïve? We’re done.

Maxson: The Brotherhood strictly prohibits senseless murder. I don’t know if this behavior is PTSD related or not, but you need help, Knight. Unfortunately, because of your actions, I am going to have to terminate you from the Brotherhood. Please, gather your belongings and vacate the Prydwen immediately.

Preston: [hurt; betrayed] So the General of the Minutemen is a cold blooded killer? History really does repeat itself. [Name], I’m leaving. And you’re not welcome back to any of our checkpoints. You’re not a Minuteman; you’re a monster.

Sturges: I thought you were better than this, General. Reckon I totally misjudged ya that first day we met. Damn shame, too.

X6-88: [crossing arms] Acting on the impulse to murder innocents is while we’re in the Commonwealth, [sir/ma’am], but please refrain from this behavior against our kind. Exterminating surface dwelling trash is acceptable, but harming any Institute personal will result in execution.

Father: A murderer? That’s hardly commendable. You’re no better than the animalistic surface dwellers we despise. That is unless, you only limit your killings to the people of the Commonwealth.