#IT JUST HIT ME HOW FUCKED UP THAT WAS HOLY SHIT

[libingan]

—how the tf141 are like when they’re sick.

im sick. that’s literally my only motivation to write this.

i feel like absolute shit but holy fuck i wanted to write this so pls enjoy

no horny juice rn, so its all fluff

JOHN PRICE

when price gets sick, it’s almost like he’s in denial about it. he’s the type to downplay everything—says it’s just a little cough, just a bit of a sore throat. but then, as the fever starts creeping up, you see the cracks in his usual solid demeanor. he’s flushed, his breathing a bit labored, and when you gently place the back of your hand on his forehead, he swats you away at first, grumbling that he’s fine.

“you don’t have to worry about me,” he mutters, trying to keep his voice steady. but the cough that rattles through his chest betrays him, and eventually, even he can’t deny it anymore.

you coax him into bed, tucking the blankets around his broad frame, and he grumbles under his breath about how ridiculous this all is. he’s not used to being taken care of—he’s the captain, the one in charge, and letting someone fuss over him isn’t in his nature. but there’s a moment when you bring him some tea, and he accepts it quietly, his eyes softening just a little as he watches you.

“i’ve had worse,” he rasps, his voice thick with congestion, but when you sit beside him, he leans into the warmth of your presence, even if he won’t admit it. he tries to stay in control, tries to ask about your day or if there’s any work that needs to be done, but you can see how tired he is. when he finally gives in to sleep, his hand rests loosely on yours, a silent acknowledgment that he’s glad you’re there, even if he doesn’t say it out loud.

KYLE ‘GAZ’ GARRICK

gaz is the worst when he’s sick, and he knows it. he tries to be strong about it, but the minute the fever sets in, he’s a mess of sniffles, groans, and dramatic sighs. you find him sprawled out on the couch, a blanket barely covering him as he flips through channels, looking utterly miserable.

“i feel like death,” he complains when you sit next to him, and despite the obvious exaggeration, he looks pitiful enough that you can’t help but smile. he’s not usually one to be overly needy, but when he’s sick? he’s all about the attention.

you bring him some soup, and he gives you a weak smile, propping himself up just enough to take a sip. “you’re an angel,” he mumbles, but even that little bit of gratitude is followed by a dramatic cough that makes you roll your eyes.

he’s restless, constantly shifting under the blankets and complaining about how bored he is, how much he hates feeling like this. you offer to stay with him, and his eyes light up, a mischievous glint behind the obvious exhaustion. “you gonna keep me company?” he teases, voice thick with congestion. “or are you just here to make sure i don’t die on the couch?

you settle in beside him, and even though he’s feeling awful, he still cracks jokes, trying to keep things light. but there’s a quiet moment where he leans into you, his head resting on your shoulder as he drifts off to sleep, his breathing finally evening out. you stay there, feeling the weight of him against you, knowing that as much as he’s complaining, he appreciates you being there.

JOHN ‘SOAP’ MACTAVISH

soap is absolutely insufferable when he’s sick, and he knows it. at first, he tries to play it off—still bouncing around, still grinning, still acting like everything’s fine. but then the fever hits, and it’s like watching a hurricane get knocked flat. he’s sprawled out on the bed, tossing and turning, unable to get comfortable no matter what he does.

you bring him a glass of water, and he gives you that familiar, cocky grin, even though he’s clearly not feeling well. “you’re a sight for sore eyes,” he rasps, taking the water and downing it in one go. his voice is rough, but there’s still that glint of mischief in his eyes. “ye know, if i weren’t sick, we could be havin’ a lot more fun right now.”

you roll your eyes, but there’s no denying the way his teasing makes your heart flutter. he’s always been like this—flirty, cheeky, always pushing your buttons. even now, as he’s lying there, feverish and miserable, he can’t resist making a comment.

“don’t suppose you’ll give me a wee cuddle, eh?” he grins, shifting on the bed and patting the spot beside him. “might help me feel better.”

you know he’s just trying to get a rise out of you, but when you settle next to him, he actually quiets down for a moment, resting his head on your shoulder. his skin is warm, almost too warm, and you can feel the tension in his muscles as he tries to get comfortable

“don’t worry,” he mumbles, his voice soft now. “i’ll be back to my usual self soon enough. ye won’t be able to keep yer hands off me.” despite his words, he’s clearly exhausted, and when he finally drifts off, he’s peaceful for once, his usual energy gone, replaced by the quiet rhythm of his breathing.

SIMON ‘GHOST’ RILEY

when ghost gets sick, it’s like he’s trying to hide it from the world. he’s not the type to show weakness, not even to you, and it takes a lot for him to admit that he’s not feeling well. but eventually, even he can’t fight it off anymore, and you find him in bed, eyes closed, the tension in his body betraying how much he’s struggling.

he doesn’t say much when you sit beside him, offering him some medicine and a glass of water. he just nods, his fingers brushing against yours as he takes the glass, the touch brief but enough to let you know he’s thankful for your presence.

he’s quiet—always quiet—but even more so when he’s sick. there’s no grumbling, no complaining, just the occasional shift of his body as he tries to get comfortable. you adjust the blankets around him, and his eyes flicker open for a moment, dark and heavy with exhaustion.

“you don’t have to stay,” he mutters, his voice low and rough. but there’s no force behind his words, no real intent for you to leave. in fact, the way his eyes follow you as you move around the room tells you that he doesn’t want to be alone, even if he won’t admit it.

you sit beside him, and for a while, there’s just the sound of his breathing, slow and labored. he doesn’t ask for anything, doesn’t demand your attention, but the way his hand occasionally brushes against yours is enough. he’s not used to being taken care of, but he lets you stay, lets you be the quiet comfort he needs.

eventually, his breathing evens out, and he falls into a restless sleep. you watch over him, knowing that even though he doesn’t say much, your presence is enough to ease some of the weight he’s carrying, even if only for a little while.

[gojobbg]

ravish | reader(f) x bf!yuji

pairing: reader(f) x bf!yuji (aged up)

synopsis: after days being gone for a mission, yuji comes home and loves on your body, particularly your mouth

warning(s): face fucking

a/n: just a small thang. to those who have sent asks, im working on them! school/work drains me but ive been making progress in all of them, i swear xo also do we prefer proper capitalization or all lower case writings? just tryna gage based on other smut ive seen.

It was a mystery to recall how you ended up in this predicament.

Your pink-haired lover had you stripped, the entirety of your body exposed before him. Your back was pressed against the cold wall of your bedroom, with your knees digging down against the beige carpet. And before you was your lover, your beloved curse user. And his painfully hard cock.

You couldn't hold contact with his eyes, but whenever you did leave sight of his tantalizing limb, you'd be met with dark, hungry eyes. Those jade orbs had you in a chokehold, especially with how many days its gone without looking at you. You could tell Yuji was preparing to pounce you, as his pensive expression worsened the small pool developing in your flower. He was admiring you, as it has been a week since he couldn't.

"you're so beautiful, m'love," he murmurs quietly. "how is my girlfriend this beautiful?" You shake your head shyly, unable to accept his compliments. But your face goes crimson when his toothy grin disappears, and his lips straighten. "m'gonna show you how beautiful you are..."

Gently, Yuji puts one of his hands on the back of your head, cushioning it against the hard wall behind you. With the other hand, he holds his twitchy cock and looks down at you adoringly. "let me in, love." Obediently, your lips separate.

"Good girl," he whispers before completely filling your mouth. He doesn't ease it in, his tip quickly reacquainting itself with the back of your throat. Tears well up in your eyes, your breathing comes unsteady. Muscular thighs and toned abs fill your blurred view as the taste of salt dragged along your tongue. Squelches from your salivating mouth supplemented the silence alongside Yuji's satisfying grunts. "you... take my cock so well, pretty girl. god, mmph, i missed you and this pretty little mouth of yours."

His member slid in and out of you with ease, his cock shining gloriously from your saliva. You could feel your honey spill from your flower, your cunt eagerly waiting its turn. You could barely breathe now, relying on your nose to keep you going. Albeit this fact, you didn't want Yuji to stop. You wanted him to use you as he so desired. To be loved and ravished by him.

"babygirl, your mouth feels... so fucking, ah good-!" He proceeds to go faster, his balls slapping your chin with each thrust. You moan around his cock, which earns you a throaty string of curses from your insatiable partner. "more... god, i want more."

He then grabs you by the base of your ponytail, pulling you away from the wall. With both hands to the sides of your head, he continues to face fuck you. His hands guide you, bobbing your head up and down his desperate shaft. Your thoughts were fucked empty, you could no longer think. All you knew was this cock, and nothing more.

"your mouth is so fucking hot, y/n, holy shit," he praises through grunts. Your chin began dripping with saliva, your hands holding onto his thighs in struggle. He chuckled at your nails digging into his legs, knowing you were reaching your limit. You could feel his veins shape into your cheeks, and on your tongue. "i'll fuck you as soon as you get me to cum in your mouth. help me out, will ya?"

You finally hollow your cheeks, your mouth completely coating his cock. Yuji hisses in ecstasy, his hands moving your head just a bit faster. His tip keeps hitting the back of your throat, now causing you to swallow each time. He feels the walls of your throat close, wanting nothing more than to shoot cum right down it. "baby, i'm gonna cum..." He warns you, sweat beginning to bead on his abs.

You hum around his cock in affirmation. He chuckles again before looking up, profanities jumping from his tongue. With one final thrust, he forces his entire shaft into your mouth, part of it housed in your throat. Your eyes widen when you felt his hot load burst and roll down into your throat. Your eyes itched from tears, and you kept gagging on his cock. He was so big, you couldn't handle it. It's only been a week, and your mouth was virgin to his length.

He pulls out slowly, with his tip bouncing off your bottom lip. "come," Yuji's warm smile welcomes you, with two hands being offered to you. You take his hands and rise, your knees burning from the carpet. "you did so good for me, baby," he murmurs, his index and thumb holding your wet chin. Your lips were pink and tender from his relief, and he quickly mends them with a passionate kiss. Calloused hands find their way to your ass, his fingers teasing your pussy a bit with precum ornate on his tips. "looks like your ready for me, baby."

You nod your head shyly, unable to get the words out. Yuji chuckles, a toothy smile illuminating your world. With a kiss on your head, he lowers himself to one of your ears. "since you sucked me off so well, i'm gonna fuck you until the sun comes up. does that sound like a plan, princess?"

[mustainegf]

Hi Elena poo my beloved 👅👅👅I have a yummy request for youuuu

Current! James (who has like I DONT WANT TO SAY TROUBLE BUT…. A difficult time getting it up all the way) is in a relationship with younger!reader (not that big of an age gap.) and the first time they do it together James realizes that he’s like OVERLY hard like really hard and since he hasn’t been like really hard since he was in his 40s-early 50s and so he gets really overstimulated when he’s like doing the deed with the reader and he gets embarrassed but like it’s okay❤️

Thank.

HI VONNIIEEEE!!!!!

𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐒𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐕𝐈𝐓𝐘 ²⁰²⁴

I ran my hand up the very distinct bulge in James black jeans, feeling it throb from below the denim.

"Someone's real excited..." I tease giving his clothes member a playful squeeze.

"Shockingly."" he winced softly, groaning at the hardness.

"What's that supposed to mean?" I smirk at him, feigning offence.

"No,no... not like that... I mean uh— let's just say my age has restricted, um... my performance.." he stammers, going a deep red.

His age isn't something he hides, nor am I naive enough to think he wouldn't talk about it. Just hearing the thought of an older man still having sexual desires makes me wetter than ever.

"Clearly not this time around... you've got me so fuckin' hard baby..."

I run my hand over the crotch, cupping his length under his belt. My hand slides down his fly, slipping underneath.

My fingers slide through his pubes, and I start to pull on them, moving lower until I reach the top of his cock. I move it left then right, slowly sliding it back and forth along his shaft.

I can feel every inch covered with tight denim, how large it must be beneath there. My pinky moves onto the tip of his head, circling it. He lets out another moan as my finger traces around his sensitive spot.

I then grab the base of his cock, gently pulling it free from his jeans. He gasps, his eyes widening when my hand wraps around his exposed member.

It feels even larger now than before. "Holy shit.." I mutter to myself as I begin to slowly stroke him. I feel my pussy get even wetter at the sight of his throbbing cock.

His moans become louder as I pump faster and harder. He grunts as I squeeze his balls, massaging them tightly while I jerk him off. "Ohh... that's so fucking good baby," he coos breathlessly.

"Shit... I haven't been this hard in years...' he groaned out, tipping his head back.

"Yeah? You that desperate for me?" I coo, tracing the vein on his underside before pillow back, teasing and tugging down my lace panties.

I place my palm between his thighs and push him backwards, guiding him to sit on his bed. I straddle him, resting my hips on his legs.

His thickening dick pokes into my clit as I grind against it, rubbing my swollen lips across its girth.

"Fuck… That's what I need.." I murmur lustfully, bending forward to press my lips against his.

James twitches at the sensation on his tip. "Ah-fuck! Oh God..." he whined, clearly overstimulated, he hasn't been this hard in a while.

James grips the sheets with one hand while grabbing my waist with the other. He pulls me close, kissing me as we both moan loudly into each other's mouths.

I wrap my arms around his neck, pulling my hips back as I guide his cock head towards my entrance. Slowly I insert myself onto him, taking in his thickness bit by bit.

"Oh god yes," James sighs with pleasure, digging his fingernails into my ass. I cry out in ecstasy as I take all of him inside of me, feeling my insides stretch around his impressive girth.

"Ah! Ahh... f-fuck... it's so.. sensitive," James whines, his member must be throbbing with being this hard.

With a loud yelp I pull away from him, arching my back slightly as I rub his wet cockhead. It still pokes up proudly, throbbing as I slide it side to side.

I'm playing with the head, making sure to hit every ridge and edge. Each time he moans or cries out my heart skips a beat, getting me even more turned on than I already was. I smile down at him.

"Mmm you're right... you're really hard." I ogle at how stiff he is, a sight I'm seeing for the first time.

James whimpers as I slowly sink back down onto him. This time I go slow, taking long and steady strokes.

As I rock back and forth, James moans softly, crying out as I squeeze my inner walls around him. "Ohhhh baby! "He felt way bigger inside of me this time around. I've never felt him this hard before, and it was stretching me in ways I could hardly fathom.

I moan at the sweet feeling, smiling as I bounce up and down on his shaft, knowing how big it is despite not being able to see. James pants heavily, trying desperately not to cum too soon.

I could tell he wasn't used to feeling like this either; his muscles were tensed and he was a whimpering mess.

The sound of my wetness smacking against his groin was driving us crazy. With a heavy breath, I slam myself down onto his length, burying him deep.

James gasps out sharply, throwing his head back. His whole body jerks as his balls tighten and he shoots rope after rope of thick, white cum deep into my womb.

He yelps as he feels me cumming around him, the heat of my juices seeping outwards. We hold each other as we come down from our orgasmic high.

Our breathing is heavy and shallow, chests rising and falling rapidly. "I.. fuck... haven't been that hard since... fuck I don't know when..." he heaved.

I stare at his face, blushing profusely at how red it had gotten during his climax. James chuckles, shaking his head as he looks down at himself.

James gently reaches for the base of his cock, carefully slipping it out as I immediately began oozing with cum. "That's it... look at that..." James groaned.

James grabbed his still throbbing cock and gave it a few more pumps, milking the rest of his cum from it. "Well look at that," he said, staring at the amount of cum he had produced.

A stream ran down his shaft and landed on his stomach, followed by another two drops which fell on his thigh. James moved closer to me, pressing his lips against mine.

I smile, gazing down at the huge load of sperm he had shot inside of me. He brought his fingers up to my mouth, placing them there for me to taste. My eyes widened as I tasted his potent seed.

It was warm and salty, lingering on my tongue for a moment before disappearing down my throat.

James smiled widely as he watched me swallow every drop.

“Fuck… the things you do to me…”

[totallyjustabunchofhocuspocus]

Fic: Something to Sink Your Teeth Into 14/?

Pairing: Buck/Tommy

Vampire/Witch!AU

Less than a week 'til everyone's back on our screens! Eeeeeeee!

Read on AO3

As soon as Tommy realized the elevator was full of fucking witches, he knew he was in trouble.

The bodies of Jonah Greenway and his familiar were still lying on the floor in the hallway—obviously having met their end at the hands of vampires. Any witch worth their salt would be able to tell at a glance that Tommy had drunk witch blood recently. And Evan had absolutely no reason to try and help Tommy explain himself before the witches attacked. He wasn’t even sure if he’d be able to fight his way out. The power that roiled off the witches staring at him in shock was disconcerting.

Options—none of them good, none of them even really feasible—flashed through his head…but then Evan took the decision out of his hands.

Suddenly, Evan was at his side, his hand curling around Tommy’s and gripping tight.

Suddenly, Evan was screaming a phrase in the strange, lilting language of his casting.

Suddenly, Tommy was enveloped in the white light of a witch’s magic, tossing like a boat on a stormy sea, the feel of Evan’s hand in his the only thing he could focus on.

And suddenly, Tommy was standing in the loft at the coven safehouse.

He blinked in surprise, his brain taking a moment to catch up with the change in events…and still kind of snagged on the feel of Evan’s hand tangled in his, Evan’s strong, calloused fingers fitting against his so perfectly. He almost reached for Evan’s hand again when he let go, not wanting to lose the connection. Common sense asserted itself before he could, though, and he shook his head in amazement.

“Holy shit,” he breathed. He’d known witches could teleport—had seen it happen a few times over the course of his long life—but he’d certainly never experienced it. He turned to look at Evan, a thousand questions leaping to his lips, but froze as he took in the sight of the witch.

Evan was white as a sheet, sweat standing out on his forehead and cheeks, his eyes glazed over with exhaustion as he swayed on his feet. Blood dripped from his nose, painting his lips and chin in a ghastly mask that made him look like a new turn in his first feeding frenzy. The intoxicating scent of Evan’s blood hit Tommy like a fist to the solar plexus, and his fangs immediately ached in his mouth, a powerful longing to taste that sweet, electrifying nectar again sweeping through him. He forced it back, far more focused on his concern for Evan…had he somehow been injured in the fight? None of the vampires had gotten close enough to lay a hand on him—Tommy had made damn sure of that.

“Evan? Fuck, are you all right?” he asked.

Evan blinked slowly and reached up, laying a hand on Tommy’s chest as though to steady himself. Belatedly, Tommy realized how close together they were standing, Evan wavering into his personal space. Beneath the rich call of fresh blood—witch blood—Tommy caught a wave of the dizzying, delicious scent that had driven him to distraction in Gerrard’s mansion, the scent that had become harder to ignore the longer he spent in Evan’s presence. God, he wanted to gather the witch close and bury himself in that scent, wrap himself in it. He swallowed the desire back, barely resisting the urge to reach up and cover Evan’s hand with his own, keep him close.

“Evan? Talk to me,” he demanded urgently, unable to understand what was happening. Evan had been fine…he’d been fine; none of the vampires had touched him, the witches hadn’t been able to get a cast off before Evan had gotten them out of there. What was happening?

Evan’s brow furrowed slightly and he went to take a step back. If possible, his face went even whiter as soon as he moved, and he abruptly sagged forward. For the second time in as many days, Tommy found himself lunging to catch Evan before he could hit the floor.

“Whoa, okay, okay, easy sweetheart, easy, I’ve got you. Let’s just…” Evan hadn’t quite lost consciousness, but he stumbled drunkenly over his own feet as Tommy helped him over the short distance to the couch, gently lowering him to slump back against the cushions. “Just keep your head tipped back,” he advised, not really sure if Evan was tracking anything that was happening as he hurried over to the kitchen.

He had no use for ice packs or bags of frozen vegetables, but he grabbed the lone dishtowel that had somehow spawned by the sink (he thought it might have already been here when Alonzo bought the building) and ran cold water over it. He wrung it out and more or less vaulted back over to the couch, where he crouched down in front of Evan and used one corner of the cloth to gently wipe the worst of the blood away from the witch’s face. The bleeding had slowed to a trickle, but Evan’s face was still worryingly pale as he folded the bloodied corner over a couple times and then pressed the cool compress against Evan’s nose.

“You with me?” he asked, and frowned when it seemed to take a minute for Evan’s hazy blue eyes to focus on him. He listened, finding Evan’s heartbeat a little fast for his liking, but not thready or weak.

“Wha—yeah. Yeah, m’fine,” Evan mumbled, closing his eyes before reaching up to clumsily paw at the compress. Tommy let him take over holding it against his face, his hand hovering over Evan’s for a moment to make sure he wasn’t going to drop it.

“This is a very different interpretation of ‘fine’ than I’m familiar with, not gonna lie,” he said carefully. Evan sighed, blinking his eyes open again to fix him with a half-hearted glare. Tommy held his hands up in mock surrender. “Just saying.” He rose and walked back over to the kitchen, grabbing a glass from the cabinet and filling it with water. Behind him, he heard Evan sigh again.

“I thought you said your friends just wanted us to see if Greenway was at the temp agency,” he said, an accusatory edge to his voice.

“They did.”

“So what the hell was a cleaner crew doing there?” Evan demanded.

“I’m sorry, what? What makes you think those witches were a cleaner crew?”

By the look on Evan’s face, it was plain he thought that was a stupid question. “They had the SoCal high coven sigil on their jackets. Hell, they were in a uniform in the first place! An investigation would’ve been two, maybe three witches, and they sure as hell wouldn’t be wearing sigils. That was for any witch in the area that sensed major magic going down and went to see what was up.”

That…made a disturbing amount of sense, actually. “Great. So a team of witches specializing in disappearing anything that could jeopardize our secrecy saw you and me standing over a murder scene.” Evan pressed his lips together, looking far more scared than Tommy knew he’d be willing to admit to. “Howie wouldn’t have done that,” he said.

“What about his coven leader?” Evan countered immediately, and Tommy inclined his head, acknowledging the point.

“I don’t know Athena Grant—but I know their coven’s reputation, and I’ve known Howie for a decade. He…I know you don’t believe it, but we really are friends. Or as much as a witch and a vampire can be friends. He wouldn’t have set me up. And even if Sergeant Grant would have, I believe Howie would have given me a heads up.”

Evan didn’t look convinced at all—which was fair, honestly—but subsided. He leaned back against the couch and stared up at the ceiling. “I need to go back and get the Jeep,” he said at length, a thread of nervousness running through his voice.

“You and I both know that’s not a good idea. I get you’re attached, but I’ll pay to get it out of impound once it’s towed and—”

“No, you don’t get it. If the high coven team figures out it’s mine, they can use it to track me.”

“One of those locator spells?” Tommy guessed, and Evan nodded.

“The only way to focus the spell is to have something of the witch’s—hair, clothes, jewelry, anything they have a personal attachment to.”

“Fuck. All right—I need to call Howie anyway. Let’s see if Grant can do anything about the Jeep discreetly.”

“You’re trusting them?”

Tommy thought about it—really thought about it—before slowly nodding. “I don’t think we have much choice. This…I don’t know what the hell is going on here, but whatever it is, it’s getting bigger by the second. Even if Grant told the SoCal high coven everything we suspected about Greenway, that’s all she had. Suspicions. I’m guessing these cleaner crews don’t roll out for minor inconveniences?”

Evan snorted bitterly. “No. No they do not.”

“There you go. Trust me, kid, in my experience the people in power don’t start sending out their big dogs unless they’re trying to keep a lid on a huge explosion.”

“So if you really don’t think your friends set us up—”

“I don’t,” Tommy interrupted quietly. “I really, really don’t.”

“Then whatever’s going on involves someone high enough up to sic a cleaner crew on us. And that’s not even counting the vampires that killed Greenway.” Evan’s voice was flat, a tired sort of dread lurking under the words. Tommy could relate.

“Which means whatever Greenway was trying to accomplish by sending you to Gerrard, it also involves someone high up in the witches’ hierarchy in LA. Maybe even on the high coven itself.”

Tommy had his suspicions about that, actually—a picture trying to form in his mind that he really, really did not want to examine too closely. If his slowly growing suspicions were correct, they were in a lot more trouble than he was confident they could deal with…and Evan was somehow at the center of it.

He pulled his phone out of his pocket and dialed Howie’s number, only mildly surprised when the witch picked up halfway through the first ring.

“Tommy, please tell me you found something at that office,” Howie said without preamble as soon as the call connected.

“Greenway and his familiar are dead,” Tommy said, wishing they had time for him to soften the blow a little. “He was killed by vampires.”

Howie made a soft sound on the other end of the line, something between a groan and a gasp, and he heard a woman’s voice swear violently. “Damn it. Victor, too? We felt the coven bonds go dark a little while ago, but we were hoping…shit we were hoping he’d severed them himself. Fuck!”

“I’m sorry,” Tommy said automatically…although he really didn’t give a flying fuck what had happened to Greenway. He’d set Evan up to die. The bastard could rot in hell for all Tommy cared. “I know that’s not the news you were hoping for.”

“No shit,” Howie muttered. “Okay. Okay, did you find anything? Any clue who killed him, what coven they belong to?”

“I didn’t recognize any of them. They knew who I was, though. Seemed to think I knew who they were working for, but I have no idea.”

“Wait, you saw them?” Howie asked incredulously. There was a screech of tires over the line and then the scuffling sound of dead air.

“Kinard?” a woman’s voice, smooth and authoritative, came over the line.

“Sergeant Grant, I presume?”

His eyes fell on Evan, still holding the compress against his face as he rolled his head towards Tommy. Tommy didn’t like the fear he could read lurking in those sky-blue eyes, uncomfortably aware of just how alone Evan had to feel right now. Tommy had his coven, his friends and family. Alonzo would be furious with him when the coven master found out just how far Tommy had waded into this mess, but Tommy knew Alonzo would help as much as he could without compromising the coven. Push come to shove, Sal and Lucy would have his back. He had people.

Evan? Evan had…Tommy.

That was it. The only person in this city who seemed to give a damn about Evan’s wellbeing in this mess was a vampire he’d known less than twenty-four hours.

“Tell me everything,” Grant ordered, drawing him out of the turn his thoughts had taken.

Evan closed his eyes again, just listening as Tommy gave Howie and his coven leader a brief rundown of what they had found at the temp agency office. He didn’t think he was imagining the sharp inhalation of surprise when he got to the witches appearing (and the slightly hysterical edge to Howie’s much louder exclamation of, “What the fuck?!” went a long way toward reassuring Tommy he’d been right in assuming Grant and Howie hadn’t been responsible for that) and Evan’s assessment that it was a cleaner crew.

“How the hell did you get out of there?” Grant asked when he was done, suspicion thick in her voice. Tommy couldn’t say he blamed her. She had to know he was powerful, but she had no idea he’d have the advantage of witch blood for at least another several days and what he’d just described had been pretty long odds.

“Evan’s magic,” he said, seeing no reason to lie to them, but a bit unwilling to give out details they hadn’t asked for. If everything Josh had learned about Evan was true, Tommy had no doubt he’d want to keep the secret of his true identity from Howie and Grant., At this point in time, it was unnecessary information, anyway.

Grant hummed, low in her throat. “I thought Chim said he’d been banished?”

“His power hasn’t faded, yet,” Tommy replied, giving nothing away in his words or his voice. Athena Grant commanded a lot of respect in LA, even from the vampire community, but Tommy had been playing this game for a very long time. She wasn’t going to get anything out of him that he wasn’t willingly giving up.

“Have you had a chance to look at what’s on that flash drive you mentioned?” she asked instead of pursuing questions about Evan’s magic.

“I’d rather wait ‘til you can take a look at it, honestly. If it’s encrypted or password-protected or something, I don’t want to risk damaging what’s on it. And I’d rather not involve my coven any more than I have to.”

“Understandable. All right. Where are you willing to meet us?”

He looked over at Evan again, watching as he gingerly pulled the compress off his face and twitched his nose a couple times, relief flitting across his face when no fresh blood poured down. The witch was still looking pale and exhausted, and Tommy wondered how much use he’d be able to be in another confrontation. He chewed on the inside of his cheek a moment before rattling off an address not too far from the loft.

“And that is?” Grant asked, her tone carefully neutral.

“Personal property. Not connected to my coven in any way. Probably not even on any of the digital records in the county, unless that story Channel 8 did about city council misusing funds set aside for digitizing files was wildly exaggerated.”

Tommy had dozens of properties in the city and all over the world—most of them places he hadn’t set eyes on in years or decades. Some he used as investments and income, turning their management over to rental agencies and real estate trusts (many of which were run by vampires for vampires), but others he kept as private bolt holes and safehouses. It was a habit leftover from lifetimes ago, formed in days when being a vampire was much more dangerous than it was now, but he’d never been able to let it go. The bungalow he wanted to meet at was one of the few places he kept up with personally, managing its upkeep on his own and often staying there for a few days or weeks when he needed a break from life at the coven house.

“If we’re meeting on your territory, I’m bringing another member of our coven,” Grant said after a long pause. She did not sound like she was asking permission.

The place itself was not especially defensible—but he knew the surrounding streets and neighborhoods like the back of his hand, including several abandoned sections of sewer tunnel and old wells that would make excellent hiding places and were almost guaranteed not to be on any maps. And just because the house was not overly defensible did not mean he didn’t have defenses in place. If worse came to worst, he was reasonably certain he’d be able to hustle himself and Evan out and disappear. Tommy cracked his neck and raked a hand back through his hair, considering.

“Acceptable,” he said eventually. “Also, we had to leave Evan’s car behind in a parking garage on 12th street. Blue Jeep. Think you can do anything? Evan said someone looking for us could use it as a focus for a locator spell.”

“Damn. He’s right. I’ve got a couple of people down at that precinct that owe me some favors. I might be able to send someone to get it…it’ll have to be impounded, but I can bury it in paperwork until you can pick it up.”

“That’ll be fine. I’ll handle any fees or fines. Give me an hour?”

“See you then,” Grant agreed, and ended the call without another word. Tommy decided he liked her.

He slid his phone back in his pocket and picked up the abandoned glass of water. “You gonna be okay to head out of here again?” he asked, trying not to let on how worried he actually was. He’d never seen magic affect a witch like this—he didn’t understand what had happened.

Evan sat up gingerly, pressing his fingers against his temples and rubbing slow circles for a moment before looking over at Tommy. “Yeah,” he sighed. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Mmhmm, very believable, what with the fainting and all,” Tommy deadpanned. Evan blinked and shot him an annoyed glare—though his gaze was much clearer, so Tommy chose not to take offense.

“I didn’t faint,” Evan said, a touch petulantly.

“You absolutely did. Swooned like a Victorian debutante with the vapors.” He risked a little teasing and was rewarded when Evan actually let out a short chuckle.

“Shut up, Victorian debutantes all had arsenic poisoning and their houses were full of carbon monoxide.”

“That’s…a surprisingly accurate description, actually. Huh.” He walked over and handed Evan the glass of water. He was pleased to note—though he didn’t remark on it—that Evan took it with no hesitation, draining half the glass in one long gulp.

“Thanks,” he mumbled, toying with the glass briefly before he licked his lips and looked up at Tommy. “It’s because I don’t have a coven bond anymore,” he said quietly, as though that explained anything for Tommy. He seemed to realize that a second later and elaborated. “Our coven bonds help us cast more complicated spells, let us, I dunno, spread the strain out. Without a coven bond, it’s just me channeling and directing the magic.”

Tommy stilled. “Your magic can hurt you?”

Evan just shrugged, his eyes going dark and distant. “Kind of a natural failsafe for banished witches, I guess. It takes a while for our magic to fade completely. The kind of people who get banished, you don’t want them to be able to cast whatever kind of spell they want. I really would’ve been fine, but teleportation magic is fucking hard even with a coven bond. Never mind trying to teleport two people.” He raised the glass to rest it against his forehead for a few moment, before clearing his throat. “Don’t suppose you have any Tylenol around here?” he asked, and Tommy frowned, shaking his head apologetically.

“Sorry, we don’t have much use for it.” He knew Lucy had brought Lena to the apartment she claimed as hers in the building sometimes (a fact Tommy appreciated…they all respected each other’s privacy, but vampiric senses made privacy pretty much an illusion by default, and Lena and Lucy were, ahem, very enthusiastic about each other), but he doubted they spent enough time here for there to be minor first aid supplies.

Evan grunted an acknowledgement and set the glass down on the coffee table next to the folded up, bloodied dishtowel. He shot Tommy a wary look. “Is this gonna be a problem? Like…should I go throw it away somewhere else? I’m kind of surprised you’re not all…” He trailed off and made a weird face, hooking one of his index fingers in front of his mouth in a terrible—yet somehow adorable—imitation of a fang.

Tommy let out a snort of laughter. “Snot doesn’t exactly make a great chaser, Evan,” he said, raising one eyebrow. “Besides. Most of us can control ourselves around minor injuries just fine, unless we’ve just risen.”

“So what’re all those stories about blood frenzies and feral vampires?” Evan asked, sounding genuinely curious.

“Oh don’t get me wrong, it can take a century or two before your control is good enough that you can be around lots of blood. If there was, like, arterial spurt involved, I’d have to hold Lucy and a few others in our coven back, no matter how they felt about the person bleeding.” It was Tommy’s turn to shrug. “Nature of the beast.” An uncomfortable look flashed across Evan’s face, and Tommy tilted his head. “So how worried do I need to be while you’re casting? Much as I hate to say it, I don’t think that was our last confrontation before all this is over.”

The discomfort shifted into something cagier, and Evan’s eyes darkened further. “Most of the time, I’ll be fine. I end up with a headache, maybe I’ll get a little dizzy. The really complex spells are harder, but it’s not going to, like, kill me.” He narrowed his eyes, his chin lifting defiantly. “I can pull my weight, Kinard.”

“I know you can,” Tommy said immediately, and it wasn’t even really a placation. Evan was a damn powerful witch, and clearly he’d been trained well by someone at some point. He’d killed more of the vampires that had attacked Greenway than Tommy had. “I’m just asking how I can help you while you’re doing it.”

Evan startled at that, a confused frown scrunching his face. “Oh. Uh…nothing really. I just—I’ll be fine once I eat some carbs and get some sleep?”

“Okay. Carbs we can do on the way. Do you want to grab another shirt before we head out?” Tommy tipped his chin towards the smears of blood along the collar of the hoodie he’d “loaned” Evan earlier, and the witch seemed to notice it for the first time.

“Oh…oh! Uh, yeah. Yeah, that’d be good.”

“Help yourself to anything in the dresser upstairs. Maybe grab a couple things to change into; no telling how long this is going to take.”

Evan blinked at him, the wariness fading from his expression to be replaced by the same vague puzzlement Tommy had been seeing more and more often. Slowly. Evan levered himself off the couch, not saying anything when Tommy stepped a bit closer, reaching out a hand to hover over his shoulder if he needed help. The witch steadied himself quickly, though, and sidled past Tommy to head to the stairs, that same air of confusion still clinging to him.

Tommy watched him go, and then pulled his phone out again, debating on whether he should update Alonzo and Josh before or after he got a look at whatever was on Greenway’s flash drive. Even as he did so, a text popped up on the screen, from Howie.

Athena just got a call notifying her about Jonah and Victor. You need to be careful, Tommy. Make sure you’re not followed.

Tommy frowned, tapping out a quick reply. Why? What else did they say?

The high coven is sending out a message to all coven leaders later tonight, apparently. Declaring a rogue witch in the city, working with a vampire. They’re pinning Jonah’s murder on you two.

[svtskneecaps]

i also just want to point out the qsmp members' commitment to like never letting the inactive members die. like dantdm logged on twice and is canonically dead and everyone continues to blame mysterious happenstance on him. spreen is canonically dead and yet people are still like namedropping him even tho the house façade he built has been demolished and also probably consumed by a mountain. they meme on kameto who's barely been on except that time he was a fed spy that was iconic as hell. they just immortalize their members and they're always so happy to see old faces come back and it lowkey makes me emotional lmfaoo like missa barely logged on for a while but goddamn nobody forgot his name bc philza can't go one day without mentioning him and mariana barely logs on but every time fit saw the homeless mariana in roier's city no matter what he'd stop dead and tell it "come home" and when slime came back to the server for elections after having logged off for the last like two months everyone was still excited to meet him bc the others had kept his memories on the server fresh and alive, maxo died canonically in the nuke and pierre pasted his face all over the server, luzu vanished for months and we never forgot him either thanks to the computers and foolish's wack ass family tree. like when purgatory teams were chosen and team red constantly joked about how it would be so over for the other teams once germán logged on despite the fact that germán had only ever logged on ONCE, the way they cheered when they snatched rubius in the split of green despite the fact that rubius hadn't logged on more than twice since march. they just keep the names alive all the time and it's like

it just makes me really happy to see. like it makes me really happy. like the admin team and the members alike are like 'no way in HELL are we letting your memory go' like damn once ur on isla quesadilla you really are stuck as an islander forever :D

[hyp3rfixation-h3ll]

alright chat . it's time for "dissecting the inherent tragedy of transformers: botbots and the relationships in them":

toxic doomed yuri edition ( referring to these two ↑ )

(yes, i made this picmix myself 4 this. i have no regrets. also no tl;dr because you guys NEED to read this)

something i want y'all to understand is that it is Not about the idea that spud wasn't loved. he was VERY much loved by everyone, ESPECIALLY burgertron.

the whole point is that he sabotaged himself in the process of ruining someone else's life, someone who valued him and his word above others. he and burgertron BOTH let their ego get in the way of their personal lives, the only difference is that burgertron at least had the dignity to swallow his pride and apologise when it mattered most.

He gave spud a second chance because he loved him. because he recognised that he does deserve redemption, and above all else, he wants spud to know he cares, even if that means he'll never see him again, or they'll never be friends. (Even in light of the "sidekick" comment, i genuinely don't think he held any inherent malice in that statement. even if burgs was an egotist, he still loved him.)

the worst thing burgertron did in their relationship was be unaware, and im sure that despite his ego, he never meant for spud to get hurt. that's why he went out of his way to protect him, when he couldve just stood there and let spud get put on the back of a truck to never be seen again. it would have been easy.

but he didn't. he did the hard thing. the Right thing. he stood up for someone who never did the same for him.

Spud Was Loved. Spud Is loved. and sometimes love isn't going to look pretty, or manifest in holding hands and cuddling, and it isn't all rainbows and sunshine. it can hurt. it can be letting go of someone who you hurt by accident, who you never meant to harm, but it happened anyways because you made the fatal mistake of being oblivious.

And that's what Burgertron did. he let Spud go, because he understood they both needed time to heal on their own terms. regardless of if he's mad at him or not, he does still harbor positive feelings for him, and he stood up for him during times he probably shouldn't have. If he ACTUALLY hated spud, he wouldn't have stuck his neck out for him at bot prom. or believe spud when he was lying through his teeth in the games.

And that's what makes them so tragic. perhaps in another world, another life, they'd have been Actual good friends, who truly stuck by each other. maybe things would have been different.

But we'll never know that now, will we?

[runawaymun]

.

[hollypies]

I know I've been inactive lately but that's because VERYTHING IS FUCKED ALL THE TIME OMGGGGGG

[preggydump]

[diah-the-demon]

YES I FUCKING GOT TICKETS FOR ADO WORLD TOUR FUCK YES

[gibbearish]

btw similar to the whole "if you try adderall at a party and it calms you down, get an adhd test" thing, if at some point in your life you try microdosing shrooms with a friend and end up feeling like a functional person for the first time in your life, get tested for depression. like yeah hallucinogens come with elation so youre probably gonna have some "this is the best ive ever felt in my life" vibes regardless, but like. if that in and of itself feels like finally breathing in for the first time in years, thats for sure a sign that something is up with your ability to process serotonin most of the time. feeling better than ever before should be a nice bonus, not a crushing weight off your chest

[thatfaerieprincess]

Aaaaaaaa tattoo???????????? Maybe??????

[apollo-zero-one]

Man I can't believe I had the chance to go to a performing arts school up through middle school and I fuckin quit after 6 months just because I got bullied. BRO YOUR HOMEWORK WAS POETRY!! YOU HAD TO PRACTICE DANCING TO COTTON EYE JOE AS YOUR BIG UNIT TEST. GYM CLASS HAD A CIRCUS UNIT!! YOU HAD A WHOLE DAILY CLASS ON IMPROV!!! YOU FOOL!! YOU ABSOLUTE IMBICILE!! YOU COULD HAVE BEEN A YOUTUBER!!! YOU COULD HAVE BEEN ONE OF THOSE TWEENAGERS GETTING LOADED BY MAKING SHITTY YOUTUBE SHORTS IN 2008-14!! But noooOoooOOOoo little miss Noellie (who WANTED TO GO!! who worked SO HARD and sent in an application essay and did an INTERVIEW to get in!!) couldn't handle disruptive classmates or little scuffles and petty grudges and general Attitude of the other students and cried to mommy to put her back in public school. I am EATING MY HAIR over what Could Have Been. I COULD BE SOMEONE'S ANNOYING YOUTUBER!! I could be a DISGRACED DISNEY CHANNEL STAR!! I could be an America's Got Talent winner! A mild to moderately successful comedian! I could be making short films!! But no no no precious thin skinned baby me heard a few new cus words and watched a teacher get heckled and begged to give up The Dream in favor of?? Quiet math tests?? I am such a fucking quitter I quit everything the second it gets too hard I always take the out as soon as it's offered what's my fucking damage.....

[natdrinkstea]

My friend are you okay (regarding Steven universe)

no <3

[perdidit-vulpes]

thinking about all the ocs that’ve gotten abandoned because they remind me too much of her. lmao. lmao! lmao

[pilmyeol]

MADE FUN OF MY SIBLING AND THEY MADE A FACE AND I COULD TELL FROM THEIR FACE THAT THEY WANTED TO PUSH ME DOWN THE STAIRS AND AS I WAS OPENING MOUTH TO TELL THEM I LIKED THEIR IM GONNA PUSH YOU THE STAIRS FACE THEY SAID SHUT UP ILL PUSH THE STAIRS