#and do steps and shit. i still remember it

[yuri-is-online]

Head up this ask is kinda weird.

So do you think people wear perfume in omegaverse AUs 😀? Because the fact that everyone already has scents, perfume has to kind if clash with it right? Maybe some people use light perfumes to enhance their scents, and then those "Alpha Male" (omg that just gets a whole other meaning) podcast bros call it catfishing.

Would perfume even exist in the first place? I don't really see a purpose for perfume if everyone already has a scent... but bro imagine Yuu (who isn't from an a/b/o world and is getting really confused as to what the fuck an omega is and cringes every time of the guys calls themselves an alpha. Meanwhile everyone else is trying to figure out why this weirdo doesn't even have the slightest sent. Especially jade becuase I'm on that JadeYuu shit rn) that wears perfume or cologne trying to get more. And when they can't find any at Sam's they just try to fucking make it. I mean it's a little weak smelling and some of the notes don't exactly go with the others but hey! They have something to spritz now! :)

And now their friends are doing double takes because bro you did not smell like that last night. Also it smells artificial and it's weirding them out

Anyways I sincerely apologize for making you read that.

oh no you don't go apologizing for this confused, a/b/o is a guilty pleasure of mine (also i am doing concept drawings for asmodeaus rn. the timing of this ask made me laugh real hard) This isn't a smutty ask, but just so all of you know, I am good with those since I need the practice with suggestive stuff. I just won't be very good at it for a bit.

Anyway. I have never actually thought about this, but I have always sort of thought of scents in abo worlds to be a very instinctual thing that no amount of perfume can cover up. I don't know if you've ever encountered a scent you can taste but I have, a light in the room of a pool I was swimming in went out and let out a smoke so foul you could still feel it on your tongue and in your lungs when you pinched your nose. It was beyond overwhelming. That doesn't mean there's any less of a reason for perfumes to exist though, as I talked about in that post about Rollo's handkerchief in the past disease was thought to have been spread through foul smelling odors and bad air. If anything I could see that being an even bigger superstition in an abo world where scent is already super important. I could see people trying to make scents that complimented their natural one, maybe it could even be a courting ritual for an Alpha to give an Omega they are interested in a perfume they've made that compliments their smell and has notes of their own... Oh! Or working in notes of their scent to their own perfume to indicate interest!

a-twistedheartslonging mentioned in their tags on that post about Jade's scent that Morays use scents to attract a mate, so if you take that idea about perfume being a courting step I could see Jade just being so distraught that his beloved pearl has no discernible scent. And what's worse they keep changing what little scent they do have! What's he supposed to do with that huh? I think he'd be the only one excited by Yuu making their own perfume because it gives him an excuse to talk about the scents that Yuu likes and what perfumes are like in their world. Maybe they could make a perfume together next time (⚈_⚈)? Oh haha he's just thinking out loud he knows you aren't close enough for that ye- Oh you... you would like that? You think he smells nice and you want to know what sort of perfume or cologne he uses?

(he'd get so delulu so fast if you said that. sure Yuu you can smell just like him c: just let him dim the lights a bit first he hears that's important c: just remember to be gentle with him ok???)

[dazed-and-confused23]

Act Naturally

Summary: Lucy has always had a crush on her dad's favorite actor, Cooper Howard. So imagine her surprise when the Western actor ends up as her new husband.

Pairings: Pre-War Cooper Howard x Lucy Maclean

Warnings: None yet? I just really wanted to see Prewar Cooper with Lucy. Let's pretend and have fun. ❤️

Cooper doesn't remember how he signed up to be put inside a big ass freezer, or how being frozen constituted being a "good" vault as his late wife once put it. But he was here now, and the actor would do his best to make the best of it.

After "moving" from Vault 31 to Vault 32, Cooper had little time to settle in before he was being summoned to the overseer's office and being informed that he'd been selected to partake in Vaults 32 and 33's arranged marriage program. He would be paired with a young woman named Lucy Maclean and would be expected to help "rehabilitate" America when the time came.

Cooper thought it all sounded like a load of horse shit, but he sighed and went along with it. He didn't have the will to fight against it right now, not when it still felt he was trying to wake up from the longest nap in his life. So, he waited at the back of the line of other vault dwellers for the massive cog door to spin open so that he could meet his new wife.

He doesn't pay much attention to what his overseer is saying. His gaze has already been caught by the dark-haired beauty that stands just behind Vault 33's overseer. She's pale with big brown eyes and in a classic wedding dress and cute white heels. He watches her rock back and forth on them, a nervous blush painting her cheeks pink.

"So um. Who am I marrying?" She blurts at some point, and Cooper already feels endearment curl in his chest. She was adorable.

He takes that as his cue to step out into the light, a friendly smile on his face as he stands before Lucy. He isn't expecting the young woman's face to explode in a blush, her eyes going wide and a hand slapping over her mouth as if she can't believe what she's seeing. Cooper raises a brow, confused, and looks down to see if he's got something on his suit.

"You didn't tell me I'd be marrying Cooper Howard, Dad," Lucy hisses, tone dripping in accusation.

*notes* just something short and cute I couldn't stop thinking about. They'll be another part eventually 😄*

[rebelliousstories]

Ten Thousand Candles

Kiss Me You Animal

Relationship: Cooper “The Ghoul” Howard x Zylia “The Freak” Shelley

Fandom: Fallout

Request: No

Warnings: Fluff, Strong Language, Mentions of Death and Killing

Word Count: 711

Main Masterlist: Here

Fallout Masterlist: Here

//Chapter Two//

Kiss Me You Animal Masterlist: Here

Summary: Cooper is not too sure if he is impressed or fed up with this new girl. Probably both.

Have you ever seen someone who just looks like if you say the wrong thing, no matter how small, they would hurt you and everyone in the immediate vicinity? That was Cooper Howard right now. He was tearing through the town faster than a bat out of hell, trailing after a girl. Why was he following this girl? Because just a few minutes ago they met, as she stole his bounty that she was now cashing in on.

Walking into town, he just caught the trail of the unearthly colored hair disappearing into the shop where the bounty originated. He gritted his teeth, and waited outside until she was to return. Cooper found a rocking chair, and waited. He was a patient man, and that was being put to the test as he sat there. Most people passed by him without so much as a glance, but others took one look at him and scurried away. It did not much matter to him anymore. He had two hundred years to come to terms with his new state.

Seeing her white hair come through the door, he took note and noticed her shoving something in her bag. He stood up slowly, marching his way up to her while she was distracted.

“Well, gotta say, sure as shit been a long time since someone stole my bounty from right under me.” Howard drawled, almost jovial in his speech. The woman’s head whipped up to see The Ghoul in front of her once more.

“Maybe you shouldn’t be so slow then, Ghoulie.” She teased, finding joy in annoying him.

“I wasn’t slow,” he growled, “you were just a sneaky little minx who can’t keep her sticky fingers away from what’s not hers.” Cooper stepped closer to the woman, assessing whether or not he needed to draw his gun. But she just laughed.

“That ain’t how I remember it.” The still unknown woman got even closer to Cooper, and toyed with the edge of his jacket. He snatched it away, and stepped away with a flourish.

“Now, only time Imma tell you. Give me the caps that you got paid for my bounty, and we’ll be on our way.” His hand rested on his pistol while the other was outstretched.

“And if I don’t give you my caps for my bounty?” She replied, brushing a hand through her hair nonchalantly.

“I’d hate to kill someone as pretty as you now darlin’.” Cooper smiled, and hoped she would do the right thing. As she stood there, contemplating, The Ghoul was steadily losing his patience. She came closer and closer to his outstretched gloved hand, until it was resting right against her stomach. Sifting through her bag, she placed a singular bottle cap in his hand and closed his fingers around it.

“For you troubles. Name’s Zylia, by the way. Next time don’t be so slow.” The now named woman patted Cooper on the shoulder, and began to walk away from him. However, he had different plans. Howard stood there with the cap in his hand, and a million thoughts running through his head. Pocketing the cap, he turned to where Zylia was walking away.

“Do you have a death wish?” He called, making her stop for a brief moment. Even from all this distance, the pink eyes she held pierced his very soul.

“Maybe. What’s it to you?” Zylia responded, toying with a strand of hair.

“Do you know who I am?” Cooper questioned again, fully turning his body to face her.

“No. Should I?” Once more, his patience was being tested. Cooper moved his duster out of the way and rested a hand on his pistol that was still holstered.

“Little girl, I’m really not in the mood for this. Give me the caps.” He repeated, fully ready for a shoot out.

“Little girl? Well, I might be little, but not young enough to be a girl. I’m just gonna be on my way if that’s alright with you, Ghoul.” Again, Zylia turned around and began to walk away from the man. He chuckled softly, before drawing his pistol and aiming it at the girl.

It all happened in a flash, but the sound was one that was an everyday occurrence in the Wastelands.

Bang!

[md-confessions]

Trigger Warning for abuse since I am going to be talking about it a lot.

My honest reaction to TSM anon's confessions/posts trying to justify J's treatment of N. (They're so ass)

Ok so uhh... Anyway I'll try to debunk some of the points:

First of all: yes the fuck she is abusive! Search the damn definition on Google or the dictionary, it's exactly what she's doing, like beat for beat.

Let's start with two examples: one from the manor and another from copper-9.

J kicking N in the manor flashback: for context N and V had literally just bumped into each other, made a spark and both were trying to clean up the mess they made, then comes in Ms. Tenth letter of the alphabet with a kick to N's face for like no fucking reason whatsoever.

J stepping on N's chest while he clearly struggles: In the pilot during the scene that introduces the Alphabet squad during J's introduction she has her foot on his chest while saying he's useless, terrible and if she could, she'd kill him herself and N is very clearly struggling to even breath.

Those two very clearly ARE abuse, the second one even has a tinge of verbal abuse!

Ok so TSM tried to justify both these actions by us not knowing the full context.

The context of the kick is that: there is none, that kick was completely unprovoked, so J had absolutely no reason for kicking N aside from him being in her way from the "move it moron" line, and she changes up her attitude completely at Tessa being there, her visor showing those hollow eyes that drones show when worried or scared.

But even if you say "oh but N was in J's way so she kicked him out" but she could have just, you know, MOVED A LITTLE BIT TO THE RIGHT?!?!? And also that does not excuse kicking a person in the face.

Context of the second scene is: THERE IS NONE, ONE AGAIN! The reason that scene exists is to show that A. J is abusive towards N, and B. J is a hypocrite! Let me explain, A is very self explanatory, stepping on someone's chest and verbally abusing them is very clearly well... Abuse and B is to show that even though she calls N useless, N has shown throughout the rest of the series he is a very competent fighter, arguably better than his fellow DDs and also that even though J was pretty much insulting N for being weak, she got killed by a Angsty bisexual 18-year-old with a pen and a Railgun made out of like, scrap.

I don't know how you can genuinely look at those scenes and go "J isn't an abuser" even though yes she fucking is.

Also I dead ass forgot that second post aside from the "why would Cyn put N in the squad if his abuser?" Part, which has a very simple explanation: it wasn't Cyn, it was Mr. Solver of the absolute fabric itself! It used Cyn as a host, Cyn wasn't in control, she prob has been dead for a long ass time.

The solver is sadistic and it likes fucking with the alphabet squad, take V as an example: it allowed V to keep her memories, just to make V's trauma even worse.

The solver thinks it's funny to traumatize people so why wouldn't it think putting a person in the same team as their abuser wouldn't be?

Anyways I've been typing this since 5:30 AM, and now it's 6:50 and I got school so I'll stop here, if you got anything else to add put it in the reblogs ig...

Final note: I haven't been abused myself (not that I remember) so I can't really fully grasp the concept, but still, J's treatment of N is like, the dictionary definition of Abuse, I'm very bad at understanding other people and their emotions and I'm not super great at analysing characters but this shit is so obviously abuse seeing TSM over here trying to say otherwise is giving me a brain aneurysm.

Anyways have a good day/evening/night or whatever time of day it is :D

.

[funnywormz]

I think this shitshow with Toshiro stems from the trend of people INSISTING that interpersonal conflict must be a moral failing. Like I think there's something to be said about how people afford so much less patience to people who are autistic in the "wrong" ways, but also Laios and Toshiro just clash on a fundamental level that has nothing to do with that. Hell, you could read Toshiro as autistic as well. People related to Laios' side of the argument but instead of getting any nuance out of it they started projecting their experiences with ableist people onto Toshiro.

AGREE AGREE AGREE. i think that Fandom Brain gets people very used to thinking of conflicts in terms of "who is the bad guy and who is the good guy", so when they encounter a more nuanced conflict they don't really know what to do. i don't think toshiro is a bad person at all, in his conflict with laios he's just exhausted and starving and has been pushed to the limit and from his perspective, laios doesn't even seem that emotionally affected by the situation. i don't think what he said was right and it was pretty cruel, but i don't think he's a villain or deserves to be permanently hated as a character just bc he fucked up this time lol

also yeah you could definitely read him as autistic, and i think that highlights an issue in the autistic community in general bc like....... a lot of autistic people have conflicting needs which can lead to conflict between them/make them unable to stand being around each other. and it's not because either of them are neurotypical or bad people, they're just incompatible. like autistic people who loudly stim vocally and autistic people who meltdown when they have to be around loud noises, for example. it doesn't mean either of them is bad or not autistic, just that they have conflicting needs

i 100% agree with the last part too. i disliked toshiro at first myself bc i had been (and still do ngl) projecting onto laios hard and the conflict they had reminded me of times when people have been mean or angry at me irl for social blunders i've made unintentionally, or when someone i thought liked me/was my friend turned out to actually hate me. it's a common experience for autistic people and that scene resonates with that! but i think it also helps to take a step back from projecting our own traumatic experiences onto the scene and just look at it objectively. laios isn't perfect either and he's the one who actually starts the physical fight by slapping toshiro (i feel like i don't see many people mention this lol). i feel super bad for him in that scene but he's not a perfect victim and has done things wrong himself too

as an autistic person i've also been in situations where i can relate to toshiro too lol, like where someone is overly physically and emotionally familiar with me when we don't know each other well and i've wanted them to back off but haven't been sure how to say it without hurting their feelings. this kind of conflict is far from just being a "neurotypical vs neurodivergent" thing as a lot of people portray it in the fandom

idk i just wish people would think a little more deeply about the scene and put their own emotions and experiences aside to instead consider the conflict with the added context of the individual characters and their respective cultures + the situation they're in. people don't have to like toshiro but i wish they wouldn't paint him as a villain or make up awful shit about him just to justify their feelings when he isn't even that bad of a dude in canon yknow 😑. also we literally see him at rock bottom struggling and freaking out and i think that's important to remember. in a different context i doubt he would have ever said those things to laios

[voxaholic]

The Worst Day

A ficlet that got out of hand for @randomly--accessed--memories

Vox accidentally stumbles into the basement studio where he was tortured into insanity. Velvette finds him and Valentino is forced to leave mid-shoot because Vox needs him.

Part 1 of 2

Content Warnings: It's Valentino's pov, I feel like that's a warning in of itself.

Beta-read by the lovely @redladydeath

Vox is missing. It’s not exactly an uncommon occurrence, especially on his more lucid days when he remembers that he can travel through electricity and therefore that Valentino and Velvette can’t actually stop him from going anywhere. He never ends up going far and they’ve finally managed to make it so that he mostly can’t leave the tower, but that doesn’t mean it’s not stressful enough to give Val spiritual grey hairs every time it happens.

Velvette is the only one searching for Vox this time because the film he’s currently supervising is gonna be a big moneymaker and apparently the useless idiots he has under contract can’t do their damn job right without his constant fucking supervision. So, instead of helping Velvette, he’s stuck sitting next to a prattling Travis trying to hold himself back from wringing the fucker’s feathery neck since Travis is the director and he unfortunately kind of needs him in one piece today.

Then, his phone rings and he holds up a hand right in Travis’s face. He’s at the very least smart enough to take that as the sign to shut up that it is. Before he even answers the phone there’s already a sinking feeling in his stomach. If Vel had found Vox and he was okay, she would have just texted.

He answers the call, holds the phone to his ear and immediately has to jerk it away when the sound of electronic screeching nearly deafens him. “I found Vox, we need you now. We’re in the studio basement, bring the kit,” Velvette shouts over the sound of what Val now realizes must be Vox freaking out in the background.

He stands up abruptly. “I’ll be there in five,” he says before he hangs up and shoves his phone in his pocket and turns his attention briefly to the useless fucks gaping at him. “Shows over. Keep on task. I’ll be back when I’m back and I’ll fucking know if any of you’ve been slacking,” he snaps before he turns and leaves.

In the hallway, he stops to pick up what he and Vel have begun calling “the kit”– a Vox specific first aid kit that they’d put together shortly after Vox first “woke up”. He knows where to look at this point- doesn’t even have to squint to see it. 

Kit in hand, he leaves the main area of the tower and squints down at his phone following the directions that Velvette gave him to where she and Vox are. The tower really feels too fucking big sometimes.

Valentino thinks he can count the number of times he’s stepped foot on this level of the tower on one hand. Why does he even have a creepy basement studio anyways? Whose idea was this? Was it his? If it was, he must’ve been high as balls to think of it, and if it wasn’t, then he should find whoever’s idea it was and shoot the fucker.

It’s dark as shit down here and the light of his phone isn’t doing much. He’s making progress though, he thinks. The gps seems to think he’s going the right way and he’ll trust that over his shitty eyes.

All unrelated thoughts are pushed from his mind when he spies the vague blob in the corner that he knows must be Vox and Velvette. He can’t make out any details but he notices that both figures are covered in an alarming amount of the horribly distinctive blue of Vox’s strange blood. Suddenly, the pungent, chemical scent of coolant is overwhelming.

Valentino breaks into a sprint and quickly closes the remaining distance between them.

Velvette has Vox backed up into a corner, a hand on each of Vox’s wrists, trying both to hold him still and stem the bleeding. Holy shit, that’s a lot of blood. Vox did a fucking number on himself, those gashes are deep. Something silver glints out from the mess of blue and Val suddenly feels nauseous. Vox had never clawed himself to the bone before.

“The hell are you doing just standing there? Fucking help me!” Velvette snaps, screaming to be heard over Vox’s panicked electronic gibberish. Vox is fighting her the best he can considering how weak he must be from blood loss. Velvette is holding her own,, but even in his weakened state, Vox still has over two feet on her heightwise, so she’s struggling.

He hurries over and kneels down so that he’s at eye-level with the struggling, panicking ex-overlord.  “Voxxy?” he calls, voice softening into a tone he pretty much only uses with Vox on his worst days.

Vox stops thrashing when he sees him. Velvette releases Vox and moves aside to let him half stumble, half crawl into Valentino’s waiting arms, absolutely covering him in that neon blue blood of his. For some fucking reason, despite being either scared or confused by him on his more lucid days, when Vox is like this – out of his mind, terrified, vulnerable – Valentino is the only person able to calm him down; the only one he seems to trust.

Velvette leans forward to snatch the first aid kit he’d dropped. He tactfully pretends not to notice the way her hands shake when she opens it and pulls out a needle and thread. “Keep him calm and as still as possible. I need to try and fix the bloody mess he made of himself,” she instructs and it’s a testament to how serious the situation is that Val listens to her without complaint. There’s little he hates more than being ordered around. 

He adjusts his hold on Vox, so that Velvette can grab Vox’s right arm and then reaches into the kit to grab some gauze, which he immediately wraps around Vox’s left, putting pressure on the wound by wrapping his hand around Vox’s thin – and so fucking fragile – wrist. It’s going to take Vel time to get one arm done, so he should probably try and make sure Vox doesn’t bleed out in the meantime. 

They’ll have to call up one of Vox’s on-call repair guys later. Vox doesn’t really heal like normal sinners– doesn’t heal at all, in fact. He has to be repaired, his broken parts replaced. They don’t have the knowledge or equipment necessary to replace the damaged panels on his arms, so the bandaid solution of stitching the torn, synthetic skin back together is all they fucking can do for now.

Vox, for his part, is remarkably still and pliant, screen buried in Valentino’s ruff. He’s shaking like a whore going through withdrawal though and making these awful little staticky whimpering noises that Val is trying hard not to pay too much attention to because they are kind of breaking his heart a little bit. He previously wasn’t even aware he had a heart capable of breaking, but he’s learned so many fun new things about himself since that radio bastard ruined Vox, ruined everything. 

“So, you have any idea what set him off this badly?” Val asks, mostly to try and drown out the pitiful sounds Vox continues to make whenever Velvette makes another stitch. He is curious though. Vox can get bad, but usually not to this extent. He’s torn up not just his arms (although they certainly got the worst of it) but his whole torso, with what little remains of his shirt hanging in blood-stained shreds off his frame. 

“No clue,” Velvette replies just a little bit too quickly, her shoulders tense, eyes averted. Oh, she’s lying through her fucking teeth. Really, she’s usually better at lying than this. Valentino considers pushing but decides against it– he really does not care right now. She’s lucky that he doesn’t because usually he fucking despises being lied to, especially so poorly. 

Instead of replying, he watches Velvette work with morbid fascination. Her stitches aren’t neat exactly– hard to be when Vox is shaking and the synthetic flesh is ripped so jaggedly and uneven– but they’ll do until Vox’s nerds can fix him up properly. The red thread really pops out against the dark blue of Vox’s skin, it’s almost pretty in a really morbid way. He wonders if stitchplay is a thing. This could be pretty sexy in a different context.

Vox’s shaking suddenly transitions into violent full-body spasms and his background staticked noises of pain turn into a glitched out, inhuman screech as he tries to jerk his arm out of Vel’s grasp, causing her to reflexively tighten her grip and yank Vox’s arm back. That only freaks Vox out more and now he’s struggling in earnest, almost to the point Val can’t keep a hold on him.

“Val!” Velvette snaps between curses as she struggles to keep Vox from reopening his brand new stitches. That’s his cue to do something because he’s supposed to fix this some-fucking-how.

With the one hand that’s not occupied with keeping hold of some part of Vox, Valentino grabs the edge of Vox’s screen, forcing him to look up at him. Vox’s face is flickering in and out, pupils darting, mouth twisted in either agony or terror, probably both. 

“I’ve got you,” he soothes, fingers tracing gently across the glass that makes up the equivalent of Vox’s cheek. He continues to murmur soothing nonsense and pet names to him. He really doubts Vox can understand a thing. It doesn’t seem to matter what he says as long as he’s the one who’s saying it. 

There’s a whoosh of air from Vox’s vents before he goes limp in Val’s arms again, head only supported by Val, expression dazed. Valentino carefully guides his face back into his neck ruff, grimacing a bit at the way his fur immediately puffs up due to the static. Aah, the things he endures for this man.

“Don’t stop talking,” Velvette demands and he’s struck by how novel it is for her to ask that of him. Usually, she’s one of the few people who can get away with telling him to shut up and she abuses that privilege liberally. “He freaked out because you shut up. I’d like to get this done without any more meltdowns,” she explains because of course she couldn’t just let him think she enjoyed the sound of his beautiful voice.

“Hmn, what should I talk about?” he muses aloud, fingers idly tracing the back of Vox’s monitor. “Liiike, should I just talk to myself or am I gonna get the privilege of having you as a conversation partner?” he asks teasingly.

That gets him a frigid glare in return and Vel sighs like she’s carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders. “It doesn’t fucking matter. Just– I’m really not in the mood right now, Val.” 

Okay, well, fuck him for trying to lighten the mood. Talking to himself it is since Velvette’s being such a bitch about the situation and not even in the cool way she normally is.

He settles on bitching about the useless fucks back at the studio, because that is a topic he’s always willing to go on about and it’s not one Velvette’s usually willing to listen to, but he kind of has her hostage now, so fuck her. Valentino allows the annoyed scowl on her face to soothe the bubbling rage in the pit of his stomach as he rants about how Angel Dust has been taking over three fucking minutes to respond to his texts recently.

He’s on his sixth Angel-related story when Velvette finishes stitching and begins winding gauze around Vox’s arm. He hates how the bandages make Vox somehow seem even smaller, more visibly broken. He holds Vox a little tighter.

Velvette brushes some of her hair out of her face and God, she’s a mess. Her hair is all fucked up and she’s absolutely covered in blood– mostly Vox’s but a little bit of her’s from where Vox’s claws nicked her in his struggle.

“Okay, fuck, one down, one to go. Flip him over for me,” she instructs and Val knows what she means but he’s immediately hit with the mental image of flipping Vox over with a spatula like he’s a pancake.

He doesn’t tell Vel about his hilarious thought because he’s apparently not allowed to even try and make this shitty situation even slightly less miserable. He just does what she tells him to, even if the high-pitched noise of alarm Vox makes when he pulls his screen from his chest to reposition him makes him desperately wish there was someone or something around he could maim.

It takes at least another half an hour for Velvette to finish with his left arm and she does so not a moment too soon because somehow, Val was about to run out of people to complain about. He was really scraping the bottom of the barrel there for a sec.

“You’re not gonna let me flake out on the shoot, are you?” Val asks as Velvette puts the thread and gauze back in the kit. The last thing he wants is to go back to the shoot with Vox in his arms, but with the state he’s in, they both know he’s not going to be able to be left alone. 

“I can’t make you do shit, but we both know how much is riding on this movie selling well,” she responds and Val can’t help but groan. She’s right. They both know she is and he fucking hates that.

“Ugh, fine, but you can’t bitch at me if I shoot a bitch or two,” he concedes as he stands up, Vox still held securely in his arms. God, Vox is hot as Hell, in a literal sense. It feels like he’s hugging an overheated laptop. The rest of this day is going to suck, but whatever, it’s not like the past several years of his afterlife haven’t also sucked. It’s not like he has much hope left of it - of Vox - getting any better.

[georgeclarkesgf]

forgetful | george clarke

the minute george stepped into the flat, he knew something was off.

"y/n? you here?" walking further into the flat, he found y/n in the kitchen making herself a cup of tea, "hey, sorry i'm back so late. we missed t-"

"don't. i can't believe you. all i asked was that you not plan to film today and i wake up to a message telling me you've gone to film a video for arthur. do you even know why i asked you to stay home today?"

he was trying to remember, really he was. but his mind was blank and the guilt began to seep in, only just noticing the tears that left stains on her cheeks.

"no. of course you don't. my parents are in town george. i planned a nice lunch, maybe go on a walk, come back to the flat for a few drinks, but all that went to shit because you left to film a stupid video and then ignored my messages all day. you know how important it is to me that you get along with my parents so having to cancel on them last minute because you weren't even here was not something i wanted to have to do." the tears in her eyes were threatening to fall again, hating how needy and pathetic she sounded.

"we can sti-" george tried, again quickly being shut down.

"no george, i'm mad at you. you don't get to say it'll be alright and that we can still do something. we're not playing happy families. you've hurt me. when we sort this out, then we organise something else."

now the guilt was in full swing and he immediately started to think of ways he could make it up to her, knowing it would take a lot of grovelling to get back onto her good side.

"i'm going to bed, i love you." a soft kiss being placed on his lips.

"i love you too." slight relief evident on his face, knowing she'll never not say 'i love you', even during an argument.

she rounded the kitchen island, starting to make her way to his room and get ready for bed. george watched as she closed the door, still stood in the kitchen, contemplating whether to follow her or give her some space.

he decided on the latter.

--------

it was nearing midnight when george decided he needed some sleep, and the dip in the bed as he got comfortable was enough to wake y/n, a groan leaving her lips.

"sorry. i didn't mean to wake you," she let out an agitated hum of acknowledgement and rolled over, curling into george's side, unable to resist the heat his body always provided, "still mad at me?"

"yep." she responded, accentuating the 'p'.

"okay. can we talk about it?"

"i've said my peace. you go."

"i really am sorry sweetheart, i feel awful," her nails were running along the lines and dips of his stomach, a habit he'd grown accustomed to over the several months they'd been together, "the video was planned ages ago and i didn't even realise the dates clashed. when you reminded me of 'that thing' that was happening today i thought you meant filming. i promise to make it up to you. and your parents. please say they don't hate me."

george hoped it was enough, not that he wouldn't do anything she asked to get her to forgive him, but he couldn't stand the thought of her staying mad at him.

in y/n's head, he was forgiven. during her time alone, she realised she didn't even give him a chance to explain before locking herself in his room for the rest of the night.

"i'm sorry too," george was slightly taken aback by this, unsure what she was apologising for, "i shouldn't have stormed off like that. not even letting you speak before i disappeared all night. and my parents don't hate you. we can do dinner tomorrow if that's okay with you?"

"that's more than okay. i have my whole day free to spend with you and them. we can do whatever you guys want. i love you."

"i love you. so much. even if you are forgetful."

and george stuck to his promise. safe to say y/n's parents like george more than her.

a/n have this as an 'i'm sorry i haven't posted in a while present' <3

[ilovewriting06]

Mischief and Angel- Part 12

A/n: Be prepared for some angry Stiles because our boy is pissed! And doesn't he just love taking people by surprise, because he sure as hell does this chapter.

As a warning this is pretty graphic! There is a lot of blood and torture and it gets pretty bad there for a second so proceed with caution! If you don't want to read it, message me and I can give you the summary of what happens!!

---------------------------------------------------------------------

I whimper as the burning in my abdomen gets worse when my arms are chained above my head. I hear a chuckle as my wrists are locked in place, "Poor little thing. Really is a pity, I liked you, you were real feisty."

I let out a small growl as I stare into the sadistic brown eyes of Kate, "What do you want from me?"

She steps back until she's leaning against a table and I can feel the blood drain from my face at what's sitting beside her. She raises an eyebrow before glancing down and when she looks back at me, she's smirking, "I'm sure you remember this from our last meeting, don't you?"

My eyes widen as it finally registers what I'm chained to, a metal wall coated in wolfsbane, oh God not again. I can feel my muscles strain as they tug against the wolfsbane laced cuffs as Kate snorts out a laugh, "You know, last time I was here it was with Derek. It was quite a relaxing time, almost as nice as our last meeting. I plan to one up that one, aren't you excited?"

I try to swallow down my nerves as I do the only thing I can think of, "Go to hell."

She fakes a pout before sighing, "Well, that wasn't very nice."

She pushes herself off the table before pushing the table a little closer, obviously giving me a clear view of what's on the itinerary for today. I close my eyes as her fingers dance across the device in her hands before I let our a mix between a sob and scream as 900,000 volts of electricity flows through my body, but somehow, it doesn't hurt as much as it did before. I feel my fangs and claws protrude as my eyes glow their beta gold before a wave of worry, comfort, and pain flows through my body and I whimper the only thing on my mind, "Stiles."

--------------------------------------------------------------

Stiles' POV

"JESUS! FUCK!"

I grind me teeth together as I tangle my fingers through my hair and curl into myself, "Oh God, how is she still conscious?!"

"She's a werewolf."

I glance up and glare at Deaton, "No shit sherlock, I had not fucking clue!"

Deaton at least has the decency to grimace a little bit, "If you can feel her pain it means you are taking some of it from her."

My eyes widen, "Some? Some?! This is some?! She's in more pain that this?!"

He grimly nods, "I'm afraid she is enduring roughly 13x what you are experiencing at the moment."

I let out another groan of pain, this time it feels like something sharp is dragging across my ribs. I squeeze my eyes together before silently thinking about what to do. If this isn't even close to what she's feeling I can only imagine just how deep that cut was and it pisses me off that someone thinks they can do this to her. She's a literal angel, she would never hurt someone without a reason yet she's being tortured for seemingly no reason. We don't have anything they would want, no secrets, no information, no powerful amulets, or-wait, "Powerful."

I look up to see everyone looking at me in concern like I'm losing my mind before I force my way through the still sharp, dragging pain that is now on my thigh. I send more comfort and love down the bond before straightening my posture, "Power, they have no idea about me."

I'm met by empty stares before rolling my eyes, "They don't know I'm a spark, they don't know Y/n and I are mated."

Lydia's eyes light up when she understands what I'm saying but Erica raises an eyebrow, "Uh, can't they see the whole impression of teeth on your guy's throats?"

I smirk and shake my head as Lydia answers, "They can't see it."

Everyone except Lydia and Deaton look confused so I run my fingers through my hair one more time before explaining, "They aren't supernatural, which means they can't see the mating bite. Yes, they can see a scar, but to non supernatural creatures it just looks like a normal run of the mill scar. Everyone in this room can see it as the mating bite because they are somehow directly involved in the supernatural, except Dad and Melissa."

They all nod before Scott furrows his eyebrows, "Won't they get suspicious that she has a scar? She's a werewolf so she would have healed."

I nod before sighing, "Well considering what they're doing to her right now I don't think a scar is going to look that out of place at the moment."

As if on cue I gasp as something is stabbed through Y/n's thigh, "I swear to God, I'm going to kill them for doing this to her!"

I make eye contact with Scott letting him know I'm being serious and I'm surprised at the nod I receive, "I know."

I feel my eyes glow as determination and anger courses through my veins, if they think they can get away with hurting my mate, my Angel, they've got one hell of surprise coming their way.

--------------------------------------------------------------

Y/n's POV

I take deep desperate gasps for air as Kate pulls the knife out of my thigh and sets it on the table, "Why are you doing this? What do you want?"

I glance down as blood pours down my leg before looking at Kate as she speaks, "Well first of all, it's really, really fun. Second of all, you're a werewolf, and lastly, you killed me!"

I lick my chapped lips before speaking, "Clearly I need to redefine what being dead means 'cause you sure as hell seem pretty alive to me."

She rolls her eyes before scoffing, "That's because the witch that was working for us at the time revived us. She's the same witch that transferred your precious little Lola, to me."

My eyes widen in surprise as I stutter, "Y-you...Lola..."

She smirks before tapping her nails on the table, "Yes, me. Morning sickness is a bitch, especially when the only thing you want to do is kill the damned thing."

I snarl and make a lunge for her before being stopped by the chains, "If you hurt her I'll kill you."

She snorts, "Please, if I wanted to kill her now she'd already be dead. No, no, see she will die, very soon, but I'm going to make you watch. You and your pathetic little boyfriend."

I growl, "He'll kill you before you even touch her."

"Your little, True Alpha? Really? He doesn't scare me."

I let out a short bark of laughter as I rub my cheek across my bicep hoping to get some of the blood off, "You are such a fucking idiot. I'm not talking about Scott, I'm talking about my fiancée."

She doubles over in laughter as if I just said the funniest thing and I scowl at her. As she slowly recuperates from her laughing fit we're joined by Gerard. I press myself closer to the metal behind me in silent fear as Kate turns to her psychotic father, "You'll never guess what she just said."

I narrow my eyes as she repeats what I said and Gerard himself laughs, "You think we're scared of Stiles? The puny, weak, human?"

I raise an eyebrow before licking my bottom lip, "God, you guys are stupid."

They both glare at me and this time Gerard is the one to step up to their trusty table of toys. As his eyes flick over the blood covered options he speaks, "As my daughter may have mentioned, you never did miscarry, your daughter was just moved from one womb to the other. You should thank Kate really, carried the mutt for eight months and gave you a chance to meet her."

My eyes flash as I growl, "I would have got to meet her if you would have just left us alone! She's my daughter, my baby, and you stole her from me, from us. You never gave us the chance to get to know her as a baby, to get that special bonding time, watch her grow, and because of that I'm going to watch as he breaks every bone in your body and then leaves you out to rot."

Kate snorts again but otherwise remains silent as Gerard seemingly decides on a knife, a knife that he drenches in wolfsbane so strong that it's burning my nose and making my dizziness worse. I gulp as he turns and looks at me, "We were hoping to deter you from procreating, but it appears that you still plan to, don't you?"

I watch warily as he steps closer before he chuckles, "We can't have that, so I'm going to take that ability from you."

My eyes widen as I press myself back as far as I can go before whimpering, "Please, don't, please. Just kill me, you already said that's what you're going to do, just kill me!"

He hums before shrugging one shoulder, "I've changed my mind, if you survive this, you get to live."

For the first time since this started I let my emotions show as tears begin to fall and I beg, "Please don't do this! Just kill me! Anything but this, please!"

All my begging does is make both of them smirk as Gerard makes his way over, "And if you survive this, I'll make sure to end your little human in front of you so you know you really are left with nothing."

Instead of more crying and begging, I'm overcame by an anger so strong I'm literally seeing red and Lily bares her fangs and crouches, ready to pounce. As Gerard gets in arms length I do what wolves do best, I howl.

Gerard stumbles slightly from the noise before grunting, "Shut up, they won't hear you down here."

I snarl before screaming as the knife is plunged through my flesh. I squeeze my eyes shut, pushing past the pain as Lily pushed her way to the surface. I start to fight her for control but the knife is pulled down and I back down, giving her control.

As my energy is renewed my hands wrap around the chains holding my arms up before pulling my legs up and kicking Gerard as hard as I can, sending him across the room. As he hits the ground Kate grabs her gun off the table and points it at me, "Don't move or I'll shoot you."

I snarl before looking down as the knife that had been embedded in my skin falls to the ground sending a ring throughout the dingy, dark room. I watch as the puddle of blood below my gets bigger by the second and the energy within me starts to leave just as fast.

I wheeze, struggling to breath before perking up as I hear the spastic heartbeat that I could pick out of a crowd of a million people. At the sound of our mate, Lily retreats and I sag as all my energy goes with her, before looking at Kate, "My mates here."

Kate furrows her eyebrows in confusion before the door that had once been on hinges falls to the floor and I can't help but use the little bit of energy I have left to smirk, "No witch will bring you back this time, bitch."

-------------------------------------------------------------------

Stiles' POV

I groan slightly in pain before shaking it off and trying to focus. I close my eyes again and focus on the mate bond looking for someway to find Y/n. After another minute I open my eyes and glare at Deaton, "It isn't working."

He sighs as if he's been over this a hundred times before speaking, "You have to want it Stiles!"

"Want it?! Deaton it's all I fucking want right now!"

"Then believe, will it into existence."

I grit my jaw before closing my eyes and focusing back on the bond, alright Stiles, focus, this is your mate and she's in pain, and she's scared and they're probably going to kill her if you don't find her so fucking focus!

My eyes fly open as I jump off the couch, "I've got it but we have to go, now! Right now, move before I leave you all here!"

-------------------------------------------------------------

As soon as we're in the building I can feel that she's close. It's like a buzzing itch under my skin but this place is fucking huge and I have no idea where to start. There are so many different scents that the wolves can't pick out her scent.

I tap my fingers as nervous energy flows through my body when a pained and angry howl shakes the building and then the wolves are running through the halls like they have a fricking map of it engrained into their brains.

Me and all the others that aren't enhanced with super speed and super hearing sprint to keep up with them, winding through halls and descending two different staircases before we come to a stop in front of a strong metal door. I push my way through the wolves and lay my hand on the door willing the stupid thing to just fall off the hinges, and I'll be damned it did just that.

I step through the door as Kate spins around and I notice that Gerard is trying to get up off the ground. My eyes dart around the room to make sure that they're the only two here before finally letting my eyes fall on Y/n.

I suck in air as I look at the blood, the cuts, and the bruises covering her body that still haven't healed and from the looks of it they won't be healing for awhile because of the fucking wolfsbane.

Her eyes snap up to meet mine and she smiles a weak smile, "I knew you'd come, Mischief."

I sigh in relief at the fact she's aware enough to speak as I answer, "Always, Angel."

She responds with a smile and I can feel her love and relief before glancing at the others, "Get her, I'll deal with these two."

Once Scott, Allison, Lydia, and Kira run towards Y/n, I turn my eyes to the two psychos in front of me, "Now, I'm going to break every fucking bone in your body," the room is filled with loud snaps and wails of pain as they slump to the ground, "I'm going to make you feel the pain she's in," the room is filled with pained screams as I will Y/n's pain onto them, before squaring my shoulders, "And now I'm condemning you to eternal death with no chance of being resurrected, and finally, I'm going to kill you for what you did to my mate."

Gerard's eyes widen as he heaves, "You're a spark, and you're mated."

I smirk, "Damn right grandpa, two rarities wrapped up in lil' ole me."

They watch me with wide eyes as I raise my hand before snapping my fingers and watching as they turn to dust. Holy shit! I totally just Tony Starked those suckers! I guess watching Avengers last night influenced my techniques.

I feel all the power recede back to my chest as Scott calls, "Stiles, get over here!"

I feel the blood drain from my face as I rush over to where Scott is holding Y/n on the floor. I sink to my knees and pull her towards me as Scott looks at me with tear filled eyes, "Her heart is weak. We need to get her to Deaton."

I glance down at her face taking in all of her features and how she looks peaceful before nodding, "She's out cold, so she won't feel it but we need to go. I can feel the bond getting weaker."

My voice waivers and cracks on the last sentence as Scott picks her up and heads towards the door. I follow close behind begging any force or deity that's out there, please don't let her die, please.

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A/n- Um...so that happened and I totally only cried a little bit when I proofread it (don't be surprised if there are some mistakes, my eyes were a little blurry). Let me know what you think is going to happen and if you have any suggestions for what you want to happen!

Tag List: @ah-blossom @gabby988 @zanypaintermoon

[daemon-in-my-head]

Definitely not canon, tragic angsty durgetash shit below as I struggle with the block™️. I don't know how many words, kinda description of injuries, ig? Anyway, not for kids. But it's tame compared to my usual stuff. Maybe I'll upload it on Ao3 one day.

Perfect archduke

Nothing could've prepared him for what he'd witness at the docks.

He had considered a plethora of scenarios on his way here. Distractions from the searing pain shooting up his leg whenever he took another step, daydreams about all the 'what if's' that could've been, explanations for the elf's actions down in the ruins. Just any kind of thought so that he may be able to ignore the hell unfolding around him, but not a single one of them led him to ever consider the horrors displayed before him.

The temperamental little girl who spat her words at him mere hours ago, the brave soldier who had survived all he'd done to her and still retained her fiery passion, was finally donning a look of utter defeat as she held onto the bundle in her arms. The snarky elves who had refused to leave his dear companion's side, who refused to control their ever-waggling tongues for just a second, couldn't even look at the man they'd been constantly circling before.

"What happened?" A calm, firm voice, finally asking his first question in what must've been decades. Still ever carefully masking the bile that continued to rise in his throat as his eyes focused on little red droplets hitting the soiled ground.

"The brain, we- the fall- I-" the Tiefling had become a stuttering mess, a mess that soon crumbled onto the pavement.

He didn't try to ask another question, seeing how the woman before him had stopped being capable of answering him or anyone else for that matter. So, instead, he resorted to the one method he knew would never fail him: studying the situation himself. It had been quite obvious what, or rather who, the person within her grasp had been. The eccentric suit of armour, the carelessly tied greyish hair. There had been but one person who'd ever grace people with such a look, but still. It couldn't be him. Someone who had rejected the god of death and lived couldn't possibly end up like this. It was impossible. You can't kill death. You may outfox it, escape its view, or grasp for a while, but you could never defeat death nor its child. This must've been another tomfoolery of his. A tasteless joke, childish revenge for something he remembered.

The man kneeled in front of the red lady before a calloused, gold-clad hand reached for strands dyed in uncannily warm colours, pushing them away to reveal the cruel truth hidden beneath. He didn't quite know what he expected to find, if he was honest with himself, but certainly not this. The ruby red orbs that had always carefully taken in their surroundings remained hidden. The old scar he himself had traced countless times had begun bleeding again, once more tinting the ashen cheeks he had witnessed flushing in days long past. The cruel hands he had used to crush so many of his foes began shaking as it traced the familiar ridges and curves of a face he'd known for ages, and the pain in his leg began to flare up yet again.

"Heal him." A firm command. Just another of his usual orders directed at the white-haired woman beside them. A tyrant's decree that would be all but ignored.

"You're a cleric, aren't you? Then, fulfil your duty and heal him." His voice grew louder. He would've loved to clench his fists, yet he couldn't bear to lift his hand from the man it had been so desperately grasping onto.

"I'm sorry I can't." The woman refused to look at them. Her eyes darting just about anywhere except the voice's direction.

"Will somebody finally do something?!" His voice grew into a rage-filled scream at her refusal. All these skilled people, and yet none of them did anything. "You know magic, don't you? You've brought people back before. I saw the records. I saw what the bunch of you has done, so fix him, or do you need a personal invite?!"

"I'm sorry, but this- this is beyond what I can do. What anyone could-" the woman finally turned to face them—translucent streams clearing away a path in the marks of battle placed upon her.

"Then get someone who can!" He continued to criticize her, ignoring what she had tried to tell him. The truth everyone but him had already acknowledged. "Why are you still standing there? Go, get-"

"Stop it!" The other pointy-eared man finally raised his voice, silencing the ramblings of the madman in front of him. Refusing to listen to his denial any longer. "It truly is a miracle how someone as dense as you has managed to rise to the position of Archduke, so let me spell it out clearly for you." The vampire's voice dripped with sarcasm, "he is dead. Gone. Ceased to breathe. And there's nothing you, she, or any of us can do about it. Your glorious grand design has killed him." He met the tyrant's rage-filled eyes. A look one could almost mistake as pity veiling the seething anger hidden within his own as he did.

"Congratulations, Archduke," he hissed.

"At last, you've freed the city of all its Bhaalspawn with your own stained hands."

[naavispider]

💙💞Survivor: bonus scene💞💙

Read Survivor on AO3, my cop au where Quaritch is a high ranking police officer who finally works out the street kid he's had multiple run-ins with is his son.

For everyone who wanted a scene from Quaritch's point of view! Here's the moment he worked out Spider is his ✨ (I changed it from the main story so that Spider told the precinct his full name the last time he was arrested, instead of telling the hospital the day Q found him. It's not a huge change, just run with it).

It was grey, blustery Thursday morning in downtown St Mark’s, the wind whipping against the windscreen of the PD’s Ford Explorer as Miles Quaritch patrolled down another empty street. At 6am, no one was out yet. The world was quiet apart from himself and his partner sitting in the passenger seat. 

“She was a beauty,” Lyle Wainfleet reminisced, vastly overestimating how much Miles actually cared. “That was the one that got away, I’m telling you.”

“Is that so?”

“I should message her again.”

Quaritch rolled his eyes without looking at his partner. He’d known Lyle for a long time and there was no one more reliable he’d rather be on shift with. However, their differing attitudes towards Lyle’s hunt for a woman was sometimes a point of contention between them. “Should you now?”

“You don’t think it’s a good idea?”

“It seems to me she made her feelings pretty clear.”

“Well aren’t you a ray of sunshine today? Come on, Colonel, I’m trying not to get my heart broken, here!” Miles shrugged, surveying the bleak street ahead of them. It had been an uneventful night shift, which is exactly the kind that Miles should have hoped for. However, he couldn’t deny that a huge part of him still missed the action and danger of the marines. Rain had just started to spit from the overcast sky, forcing him to turn on the wipers. This part of town was known for its drug involvement, most of which Miles himself had uncovered. Now though, the street was empty, not a single sign of life in the dawn light. There was nothing amiss here.

“You wanna get a coffee?” Lyle’s bored voice drifted over from the passenger seat. He’d already switched off for the shift. 

Miles sighed, thinking they may as well, but then he saw it. A shapeless lump on the floor in one of the archways that lined the shopfronts. “Hold up,” he said. “Let’s deal with this first.”

Unfortunately, the homeless were nothing new to the pair. They had time to check one more over. Miles pulled the car over to the curb, gently bringing it to a stop a few feet away from the sleeping figure. Now that they were closer, the Colonel could make out that it was someone small, maybe young, but their face was hidden in the concrete. Miles frowned as he realised that the person wasn’t huddled up in a blanket or sleeping bag like usual, but instead they were lying almost completely exposed to the wind and the cold, limp and seemingly lifeless. 

“Oh, shit,” Lyle articulated as he too clocked that this could be something serious. 

Without wasting time, Miles opened the door and cautiously approached where the person lay. “Hello, there,” he called loudly, as per protocol. “Are you alright?”

As he knew there wouldn’t be, there came no response. Lyle joined him and they stepped closer, Miles’s heart thudding at the expectation of finding a body. Since joining the police force, it had happened once before to Miles. It was nothing like the death he’d seen in the warzone, but it was almost… sadder. These people had nobody with them, no one waiting for them at home and possibly no one that would miss them when they went. At least there was honour in dying in combat. 

He grasped the young person’s upper arm and shook firmly. “Hello? This is the police, do you need help?” In doing so, he finally caught sight of the person’s face. It was a teenager - and one he recognised at that. The boy had a young face, dirty blonde curls that covered most of his head and a peaceful expression that remained unresponsive. He remembered the teen from a couple of run-ins they’d had over the past few months. Once for underage drinking and then again for stealing. He was a runaway foster kid, barely sixteen if he remembered correctly. “Shit,” he murmured, a pang of something anxious striking his insides at the thought that he’d had the chance to help this boy and he might now be dead. “We know this kid. Wake up!” He pulled the boy by his arm and the teenager rolled over limply, completely out of it. His lips were blue and there was dried vomit on the side of his face. Ignoring the smell, Miles put his ear to the boy’s mouth, checking for breathing. He couldn’t see or hear anything for several torturous seconds. Lyle was already radioing for an ambulance. 

Suddenly, a gurgled cough escaped the boy’s lips. “There, we go,” Miles murmured, trying to rub the kid’s back as he racked his brains for the alias the kid had given them. “Can you wake up, kid? It’s the police, we’re gonna get you some help.”

He knew the boy couldn’t hear him, but he kept speaking anyway. Once he was confident the kid was taking semi-regular breaths, he cast around the scene for the drugs packet he knew he’d find somewhere. “Here,” he said, handing the tiny bag to Lyle, who got the drugs kit out. A few seconds later, they had their answer. “Cocaine,” Lyle confirmed. “Isn’t this the kid we picked up a while back for stealing?”

“That’s the one.” The boy was cold to the touch. “What’s the ETA?”

“Four minutes,” Lyle responded. “There’s a camera up there. That could be interesting,” he nodded towards the CCTV placed not too far away. It was pointing in their direction and would have covered the boy while he slept. 

Miles nodded, pulling the boy’s thin blanket over his frame while they waited for the ambulance to arrive. “Kid, can you wake up? You’re in a bit of a rough state.” He raised his voice as if he was speaking to someone who was deaf. “Kid? Can you hear me? Try and wake up.”

He could tell he’d broken through by the wince in the boy’s features, his body seeming to spasm for a moment before his chest heaved and vomit spluttered from his mouth.

“Easy, tiger…” He rubbed the kid’s shoulders, making sure he was on his side. “At least he’s alive,” he glanced up at Lyle. 

Eventually, the ambulance arrived with flashing lights. It couldn’t have come soon enough, as far as Miles was concerned. Every second felt like the kid was slipping further away from them. “What’s happening, then?” a kind woman with brown hair asked as she and another paramedic hurried over, bags over their shoulders. 

“Sixteen year old boy, found unresponsive. Cocaine on his person.”

“Okay,” the paramedic nodded her understanding. “My name’s Janine, this is Sarah. We’ll get him on board as soon as we can. Do you have a name?”

“Spider.” It came to Miles like a flash of lightning, the strange nickname finally illuminated in his brain. “We’ve met before.”

“Spider?” Janine asked, taking Miles’s place at Spider’s side. “Can you hear me? We’re here to help you. I’m just going to put this Pulse Ox on your finger…”

Miles stepped back to allow the medics to assess Spider. He was a marine, he was used to chaos and stressful situations, normally the picture of calm as he navigated the safest and most efficient way back to safety. But he had to admit this one had thrown him. He was glad that someone else was here to take charge because his concern for Spider was growing by the minute. It somehow felt like his fault the boy had ended up here, and he couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling. As he watched them work, it struck him that he felt responsible. 

Which was ridiculous, of course. This wasn’t his responsibility in the slightest. He’d done his job the previous times they’d met. He’d tried to help the kid as much as he could. But something deep inside was nagging at him. It wasn’t enough. 

He didn’t like it. He looked at Lyle, hoping for one of his usual unfunny quips to take his mind off the feeling. His partner was speaking to the other medic and it was all Miles could do to help Janine heave Spider off the cold concrete. 

“Get off me!” Spider suddenly burst out, surprising everyone. His eyes were still closed, but at least he was gaining consciousness. 

“Spider? I’m trying to help you,” Janine continued. “You’re okay… Let’s get you into the ambulance. I need you to stand up. I’ll help you.” She glanced at Miles for support, and he quickly pulled one of Spider’s arms over his own shoulder in tandem with Janine. The boy was extremely weak, relying totally on their support. It would have been easier if they’d just left him sleeping, because like this Spider could lash out at them in his disorientation. Together, they heaved him onto the ambulance and the gurney. He groaned and angry tears began to slip from under his closed eyelids. “Fuck!” he slurred as he curled up on the bed. 

“He’ll be alright,” Janine said, slightly out of breath as she turned to Miles. “He’s dehydrated and has a high blood pressure, but I’m more worried about his temperature. He should be frozen, but he’s burning up. He might have taken something else.”

Miles took this in, thinking what the procedure was for this kind of thing. This was a minor with no known relatives, so he knew they’d have to accompany him to the hospital. At least until they could contact CPS. 

“Okay, we’ll meet you at the ER. You going to St Mark’s?”

She nodded, holding the back of the ambulance open for Miles to exit. “We’ll do our best to hold him until you guys get there, my guess is that you’ve got a few hours at least until he’s lucid.”

Miles thanked her and pressed his radio as she pulled the heavy ambulance door closed. “Fike, can you get me any info on that kid we bought in a few weeks ago?” He retreated to the car as the ambulance sped off down the empty street. He watched it go, feeling like it was carrying precious cargo. Then he realised how ridiculous that feeling was and shook himself. 

“Which one? Can you be more specific, Colonel?” Fike’s voice came crackling back over the radio. 

Lyle slid back into the passenger seat. “Good spot, Colonel. Now can we get coffee on the way?”

Miles let his annoyance settle quietly in his stomach, ignoring his partner in favour of the radio. “Kid bought in for stealing an iPad from the Apple store. Sixteen.”

“Copy that, I’ll check for you.”

“There’s no way the kid told them anything,” Lyle commented, listening to the exchange. “It’s real sad, but he's on a one track road and it’s going nowhere good.”

“And that’s okay is it?” Miles surprised himself for his response. He was never normally this invested in a case. “We should just let it be?”

Lyle had the decency to look abashed. “What are we supposed to do, Colonel?”

Miles shook his head. He knew it wasn’t their individual responsibility to take in every lovable stray, but it still felt like a failure of the police department that a kid like Spider had been allowed to deteriorate to such an extent. “I don’t know,” he relented.

Thankfully, Fike was quick. “Miles Socorro, ward of the state.” 

Miles’s heart stopped. 

For a moment he thought… but it must have been radio static. “Can you repeat that, officer?”

A few seconds of confused silence went by as Lyle stared at him and they waited for Fike to get back to them. “Copy, Miles Socorro, ward of the state.” 

Dread filled his stomach.

Vile nausea rose in his throat and he needed air… he needed to step out… Miles Socorro. She’d called the baby after him? 

This couldn’t be right. This was a mistake, a coincidence. It had to be a common name. 

“Colonel, you alright?” Lyle's voice was far away. 

He was outside again, leaning against the car door, his head in his hands. He just needed some deep breaths. Miles Socorro. Miles Socorro. Miles Socorro. Miles Socorro. Miles Socorro. 

It wouldn’t stop. 

The name swirled around his brain incessantly, each time with more veracity and more vengeance, over and over again until he realised it would never let him go. The baby. The baby. 

It was him. 

Of course it was. He’d known it from their first meeting when the kid had squinted at him against the blinding sunset with an empty cider bottle in his hand.

“Holy shit.”

He felt a hand on his shoulder and vaguely registered that Lyle was concerned about him. 

“I fucked up,” he said. “I fucked up. I messed it all up.”

Of course it was Miles. His son. Suddenly he thought of nothing else, gaining a sense of clarity for just long enough to press his radio once more. “Can you look up Paz Socorro?”

He didn’t care what anybody was thinking right now. 

“Is this a relation, Colonel?”

“Just look her up!”

“She’s not on our system… Hang on, let me search…” 

Miles held his breath, the nausea hot at the back of his throat, burning him from the inside out. 

“Paz Socorro, deceased. Died in 2013.”

Miles couldn't stem the surge that retched its way up his throat. He bent double over the sidewalk, vomiting feet away from where they’d found Spider. 

She was dead? Why hadn’t they contacted him? His son… the baby he’d made… had ended up here!

“Colonel, steady!” That was Lyle. 

“Everything okay over there?” That was Fike. 

Miles’s chest was imploding. He’d failed. He’d failed. How had he not been made aware? How could he have not bothered to check? They’d agreed it was for the best they had no contact, but Miles could never, never have imagined… 

Suddenly all he wanted was to be by Miles’s side. His son’s side. Spider. 

He didn't bother replying to either man, instead wiping his mouth roughly on his cuff and slamming the door behind as he climbed back into the driver’s seat. Lyle quickly followed him back inside the car but seemed too stunned to address anything. “Er, Colonel…”

“We’re going to the hospital.”

A moment of silence passed. “Who’s the kid?” Lyle asked in a low voice.

Miles gripped the steering wheel tighter than he had in his life, his knuckles turning white. He couldn't say it. He couldn't say it out loud. Then it would make his failure real. His life’s failure, real. “I think you know,” he said in a voice that sounded nothing like his own. 

Lyle sat back in the seat and allowed Miles to drive the short distance without pressing any further. “All good here,” his partner replied when Fike radioed back. 

Miles’s voice had stopped working. He wasn’t sure any of him was working any more.

[taupewolfy]

i miss fencing so much....

[drowningin666fandoms]

BNHA Fanfic idea that won't leave me alone:

All for one is Midoriya Hizashi, but...

Nobody knows. Like, literally, nobody knows. Inko never figured out his identity, and with him getting busier after Izuku's fifth birthday it looks like he left bc he's quirkless, so she never much cared for trying to find him and neither did Izuku. All pictures of him are banished into a box in her closet and haven't seen the light of day since Izuku was six or so, when they had a fight over the telephone over him wanting to fix Izuku.

AFO himself suffered obviously a lot of head trauma when fighting All Might, and this gave him partial amnesia. He has no or only very few memories of the decade or so prior to the battle, so he has none regarding his family that he meticulously kept from everyone else's awareness, including the Doctor's. He does see the monthly payment to Inko but assumes it's from a bribe or keeping a corrupt official in his pocket. Given that he can't recall whom it's to and immortality made him extremely wealthy, he doesn't cut it off, nor tries to follow it and make the memory loss obvious.

The only one who does know?

The ghost of Yoichi, who suddenly had another person he could haunt and went to see what's going on. Maybe throw in Nana too, if you want Inko to secretly be a Shimura.

Cue Yoichi fretting over his baby nephew the very moment Izuku gets OFA, up to and including giving him in-depth instructions on how to use the quirk and helping him manage it without harm to him while the other vestiges (minus Nana) are busy laughing their asses off.

[lanayrutower]

ALSO does no one find it even a little weird how the old Zelda games firmly state that it's Hylia who built/was the first ruler of Hyrule (the king is just. sort of there), and then totk comes in and is like ahaaa no it's actually rauru who's so special and godlike actually. yeah, his wife was actually his priestess who once served him and then died stupidly because she wasn't paying attention. mmhm, she was also the reason ganon was able to take over hyrule and be super duper evil btw. uwu.

[bmpmp3]

and theres also the scrolling format manhwa i so desperately want physically. they did it with raeliana PLEASE do it with a wicked tale of cinderellas stepmom PLEASE please

[starlooove]

No bc fuck tim but it really really bothers me how people ignore his growth like he used to be an asshole and I’ll give tim Stans one thing: now he’s so so so stale but what I disagree with is that this staleness is bc nobody likes him like it’s in fact the exact opposite where everyone likes him so much they dont want to do anything. Even when it’s him surface level challenging Bruce it’s when everyone else is doing it too; but he’s still the backbone of the fam! Etc. and it’s so irritating bc him gaining more compassion and empathy even for people he doesn’t fw is so fun to watch and that’s why the captain boomerang thing was so out of character! (Not in a from the author way but in a tim wouldn’t do that and he and Bruce both knew it which is why it went down like it did. Same way dick killing joker was ooc; not in fanon sense but in a he would hate himself forever for this sense) and speaking of that it’s such an interesting mirror to Bruce who genuinely believes that everyone can grow vs Tim’s it doesn’t matter if they grow it’s not my decision to make like it’s the same but it’s not AND WITH CASS’ IT DOESNT MATTER IF THEY CHOOSE NOT TO GROW I WONT DO IT! like ugh. And anyways even when people acknowledge it they boil it down to “Janet and Jack taught him that the capitalist pigs that they are” like no. This is who tim was. Tim was the kind of guy who’d blame a dead kid for dying. That’s ok. Also Janet and Jack? Please reread anything involving them that’s not a fic like Jack had anger issues and they were both aloof at worst like relax.

[widevibratobitch]

i hate them with a passion