#and now he no longer shows up on their sensors

[mossycobblestonewrites]

DC X DP PROMPT #20

Danny has been captured by parents who thought that they could 'fix' him. They thought he was possessed.

Their fix? Capping all emotions. It wasn't a lobotomy per se, but it was quite close to it. The Fenton's know this isn't a long-term fix, they are looking for something more permanent. Which is what led them to a Wayne Charity Gala in the first place. The Drs. Fenton are seeking funds to make a mirical cure for their obviously sick son. No, they can't tell you more about it (not here at least). If you want to find out more you can donate and come to their next seminar.

Danny is sickly and devoid of all emotions, this sets off some red flags for the bats, regardless of what the boys parents are saying.

[rafeandonlyrafe]

deputy's daughter

words: 1.6k

warnings: 18+ only!, p in v sex, unprotected sex, pull out method, caught

“rafe!” you hiss as he makes his way into your room through his preferred method of the window. “my dad is going to kill you!”

“is he home?” he questions. he didn't see the cop car sitting in your driveway, which is why he scaled the lattice to sneak inside.

“no, but he's gonna be home any minute now!” you keep your voice quiet despite the rest of the house being empty.

“let me kiss you until he gets home then.” rafe says, cupping your cheeks and pulling you into a heated kiss. you know it's never just a kiss with him, but you can't help but open your lips for his adventurous tongue, gripping his shirt to pull him in closer.

rafe smirks against your mouth. he could have texted you asking you to let him, but that would have taken all the fun out of it. 

“you have to leave as soon as my dad gets home.” you scold him as rafe lays you back on your bed. 

“i know you can’t keep quiet.” rafe chuckles, hand groping at your tits through your thin pajama shirt. thankfully the flood lights above the garage are motion sensored, and with your open window they'll alert you when your dad gets home.

“if only deputy shoupe knew what i was doing to his little angel of a daughter.” rafe chuckles as you send him a glare, tugging at his shirt in a silent plea for him to take it off.

“shut up, cameron. he likes you anyways.” you roll your eyes. now if it was a pogue in your bed, that would be a whole different story. 

“mhm.” rafe nods, tugging your shirt up, revealing your bare chest. “im just so charming. all the parents love me.”

“all?” you raise your eyebrows, taking your shirt the rest of the way off, flinging it across the room. “you mean you do this with other girls.”

“not anymore.” rafe shakes his head, mouth dropping to your nipple, tongue flicking over the sensitive bud. “you know they don't compare to that delicious pussy, baby.”

you tsk. “it's a shame you don't have time to eat it then.” 

rafe sighs dramatically, like it physically hurts him to not be able to give you head, to let his tongue drag through your folds and slurp up your juices.

“just a quick taste then ill fuck you, promise.” rafe tugs your pajama shorts down, knowing you never wear underwear just for him as he buries his face between your legs, forcing your thighs apart as his greedy mouth explores your pussy.

“delicious, baby.” rafe groans, voice vibrating against your skin. “my favorite meal.” he continues for only a moment longer, flicking his tongue against your entrance before moving up to press a wet kiss to your clit, making you moan out, eyes flickering to your window, making sure you somehow didn't miss the floodlights turning on.

rafe stands up with a lick of his lips, quickly undressing himself until he's just as bare as you are.

“condom?” he asks, forgetting to put one in his pocket, so caught up with getting over to your house on time, even running from his car to your yard, always parking a block away to not cause suspicion.

“fuck, you didn't bring one?” you groan, turning towards your bedside table. you squint in the low light as you scrounge through the drawer, but you know that you used the last one with rafe a week ago.

“just…” you sigh, pressing your forehead into the bed. “just pull out, okay?”

“promise.” rafe nods, eyes on your ass like they have been since you first turned onto your stomach, only half listening to what you're saying, but glad that you're still letting him fuck you.

rafe kneels over your legs before you can move back to your front or rise to your hands and knees. “stay like that.” he hums, gripping his cock and pushing it between your thighs, rubbing the head through your slick.

“fuck, you're so hot.” rafe groans as you reach behind your back, pulling your ass apart to show off both of your holes. “gonna let me play with this one one day?” rafe hums, his tip sliding past your entrance to your other hole, tapping against it.

“maybe.” you smirk. but certainly not today, not when you're already playing on limited time.

rafe slides back down to your cunt, pushing in as he leans forward, covering your body with his own. one hand keeps him held up, stopping from putting his complete weight on you, while the other grips your ass.

“fuck.” rafe groans out, his voice sounding more hoarse than usual. “you feel so good with nothing in between us.”

you moan as well as rafe bottoms out, pushing as far in as your pussy allows. he sits still, allowing you to adjust, to feel every ridge and vein of his cock. he goes from giving you nothing to pounding into you in an instant, the sound of your skin slapping together filling the room.

rafe gives a glance at the window. lights still off. he smirks down at you, your hands now gripping into the bedsheets as he plows into you from behind, using the full force of his hips with every thrust.

“m-more.” you mewl out, body shuddering as rafe manages to go deeper with a tilt of his hips, along with you arching your back and bringing your ass up further into the air.

you let out loud groans with every thrust that's now hitting your sweet spot, pushing your orgasm quickly to the surface.

“fuck baby, you're so tight.” rafe grunts out. “don't know how much longer i can last.”

“re-remember to pull out.” you manage to hum out, even though you wish you could feel him fill you up, you're not on birth control and are already taking a risk with having sex at all.

“ass or tits?” rafe questions. 

“ass.” you shake your hips from side to side, making rafe let out a loud curse, pulling out sooner than he'd like to to jack himself off, spilling almost instantly over your ass and back, spreading long ropes of cum along your skin.

rafe is quick to grab a tissue and clean you off, as much as he likes seeing you covered in his cum, he's got other things to focus on.

just as he's about to flip you over to eat you out, the lights outside turn on.

“fuck!” you curse, knowing you have seconds before your dad enters the house. you turn over to look at rafe. you gotta get out.”

“you didn't cum yet.” rafe shakes his head, body covering you again, pressing you back down into the plush mattress. “im not leaving without giving you at least one orgasm.”

“you're gonna be leaving with a bullet in your chest if my dad catches you!” you hiss out.

“itll be worth it.” rafe manages to force his hand underneath you, finding your clit with ease as he rubs his fingers between your folds. 

“y/n!” your dads voice calls out. you usually greet him downstairs, staying locked in your room is bound to cause suspicion.

“rafe.” you moan out quietly. “please, stop.” you can barely keep yourself from screaming out as his fingers just move faster, his weight pressing down on you too much to move.

“babygirl?” shoupe calls out, his loud footsteps marching up the stairs.

“i-in my room!” you call out.

“you okay?” he asks, now right outside your door. you have to cover your mouth as rafe flicks your clit. you take a deep breath before answering.

“yeah, fine!” your voice wobbles a little, something you know your dad notices. “just period cramps!”

“can i get you some midol?” he questions, and you know his ear is pressed to the door, listening for any signs that something is amiss as rafe rubs you quicker, refusing to slow down, needing to get an orgasm out of you.

“already took some!” you call out, having to press your face into your mattress as you cum, body shaking as rafe smirks above you, hearing your muffled noises. “i think im just gonna go to bed early.” you say as soon as you recover.

“alright, goodnight sweetheart.” 

rafe finally allows you to flip over, lifting himself to lay on his side next to you. you raise your eyebrows and hold your finger to your lips, signaling rafe to be quiet until you hear your father's footsteps move down the hallway.

“rafe, you almost got us caught!” you whisper, giving him a shove on the shoulder, only to be met by a proud smile on his face.

“had to get you off, princess, otherwise it wouldn't be fair.” rafe leans forward to plant a kiss on your lips, feeling the way you melt against him.

“am i forgiven?” he questions.

“yeah, just get out.” you giggle quietly. you think your dad bought your explanation, but you can never be too sure.

rafe dresses quickly, throwing your pajamas onto the bed so you can also get decent.

“gotta give you one more kiss.” he leans over your bed to give you a sweet kiss, lips moving gently against each others.

“okay, now go.” you shoo rafe out, heading to the window now that your legs feel a bit more stable, watching him climb down the lattice. he gives you a wave once his feet hit the concrete, only for his entire body to freeze when the side door opens up, your dad stepping out into the light.

“rafe cameron, im going to kill you!”

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[brucewaynehater101]

I see yalls Tim and Darksied are friends and help eachother with parenting and raise you. Sometimes when they complain about certain people to eachother, that person vanishes or winds up with many broken bones. Tim groaning about Ras? Old Man gets a visit from Darksied who says, "little maggot. You have hurt someone I care about." In front of other villians before eye beaming him. The DEO are after Secret again while she's on Earth visiting friends? Tim blows up a few government buildings and is now wanted in another country.

This is how they show they care about eachother. Saying it with words? They would both rather die than show that weakness. But anyone who bothers their buddy doesn't survive for long. Also small things like Tim upgrading some security stuff to have better sensors while Darksied offers to grow him a new spleen.

When Tim adds "no longer missing Spleen" to his medical files there are a lot of questions from the Bats.

I'm sorry. Real quick, I saw the phrase "before eye beaming him" and I died of laughter. I can't even begin to explain how humorous I find that specific phrase. Eye beaming 😂

Anyways, I absolutely love this take on it! The spleen being grown back is a beautiful cherry on top with this outlook. In this AU, I did hc Tim doing some security work or helping with any management problems Darkseid might have, but the descriptions you added were great!

I wonder how often they would actually fight on the battlefield together. This seems more like the other would suddenly find out that a problem they had "miraculously" disappeared. Do they work together for some of these ends, or is it more of a quiet favor/care system?

I also imagine the Bats freaking the hell out when they realize just how friendly Tim is to Darkseid. It's giving, "You dated the brutal dictator of Nicaragua," but with befriending Darkseid instead.

How would Tim make a civilian cover for suddenly getting his spleen back? Does he claim he was misdiagnosed?

[t-tomuras]

Ooooh thinking about him stroking his cock while he lays back in plush pillows and soft sheets all with a too sweet scent that’s more intoxicating than all the liquor he could drink.

Fantasizing about him pulling at his sac because there’s nothing that should be riling him up this easily. It should be infuriating, you weren’t even in his presence physically but there’s traces of you all around him.

The smell of your body wash still clinging to his skin from how long you’d been draped against him. The whisper of your shampoo still lingering on the pillow you’d claimed as your own and the side of his mattress that you’d staked your claim on.

It shouldn’t be making his cock twitch, shouldn’t be making it swell but it does and he isn’t sure where it starts. Was it the thought of how you’d invaded his life in the best of ways?

Is it the way he can still feel fhe fading warmth of your lips against his throat or the throb of your bite against the slope of his shoulder. How the outline of your teeth marrs his skin so vividly it feels like it pulses in time with the beat he can only register so clearly in the palm of his hand, grasping firmly at the heated flesh of his cock.

Shimmying his joggers lower as his head lolls and his olfactory sensors damn him further. Burying his face further into the casing of your pillow and inhaling deeply only to exhale in a long sigh as he pumps his rigid length.

You’re a vile thing only because you did this to him and you weren’t even here to personally blame. Or maybe it’s because you weren’t here to soothe the ache or coo with plush lips to wrap around his flushed head.

No coy smile for him to drool over when the leaky tip bid a silvery string of pre connecting him to your plump bottom lip when you pull away to tuck hair behind your ear.

Absent from him so he can’t get lost in your list addled gaze, fisting his cock at the base while you tease him with shallow bobs of your head that he emulates in vain with this lewd daydream.

Cursing under his breath as he throws his head back, in frustration that he can only imagine how good he knows it could feel if only you were here. Hips rutting upward but no tinkling, muffled giggle follows the action, no convulsion of your tight throat when he triggers the gag reflex. Only his furious grip that’ll only ever pale in comparison to you now.

You’ve spoiled him and you now you aren’t here. Maybe he’ll punish you right back by not muffling his groans, not biting his lip to swallow them whole how you hate.

Maybe that’s good, maybe he’ll do that. Maybe you’ll turn around on your trip home and stay with him a little longer.

He considers it’s worth a short, fumbling in the rumpled covers for the discarded device without slowing the twist of his wrist or the pace he’s going to relieve himself. Panting already even as he hits the vibrant viridian call button on his screen, automagically dialing your number. It only rings twice and you’re lucky enough to be gratified with a semi-whined groan. Deep and low in his chest before he heaves in a steadying breath. Tapping the camera icon and flipping the view to show you all of his shame, or lack thereof.

“Come back so this doesn’t go to waste,” ending the short recording with a low growl as his hips twitch into his fist. Tossing his phone to the side and a twisted smirk finds his lips when he hears it vibrate in long drones, indicative of your call.

You’ll turn around even if he doesn’t answer. You always do, that’s why he’s so selfish with you now.

[generic-sonic-fan]

Team Dark and weighted blankets.

Rouge has a weighted blanket in her closet. It's old, ripped on one corner, its beads long since spilled out onto floorboards of houses that are no longer homes. She used to hide under it, before she went to the therapy to treat the anxiety that plagued her. Now it's a relic, a reminder of her progress. She doesn't need it anymore, she tells herself, but she can't bring herself to get rid of it.

(She takes bubble baths instead. The warmth and weight of the water are a decent replacement.)

But then a neighbor sets off fireworks and now Shadow is hyperventilating on the floor of the living room. She sprints to her closet. She tugs the blanket from beneath the shoe racks, drags it across the floor (because she forgot how heavy it is all bunched up like this,) and lays it over him.

He doesn't take it off for the next two days.

Rouge comes home with a new one and leaves it folded beside the couch. Shadow insists they don't need to have it out. For a moment she listens. She puts it in the pantry. The next day they wake up to find it's been thrown over the back of the couch.

"USE EVERY TOOL AT YOUR DISPOSAL TO REGULATE THE SENSORY NEEDS OF YOUR PRIMITIVE MEAT BRAIN." Omega replies when asked.

The next time it's used is after a long day. Shadow slides onto the couch. Rouge ducks into the bathroom and Omega stops by his room and when they return he's got the blanket spread over him. Rouge jumps on the cushion next to him and chides him for being a blanket hog before sliding under it as well. It's a tight fit, the edge of the blanket only covering half of her. Suddenly Omega leaves the apartment and they spend the next fifteen minutes worried sick until he returns with a new blanket hanging heavy from his grasp. He tosses it onto Rouge, knocking the wind out of her and earning laughter from Shadow.

It's around this time that the two of them finally convince Omega that, yes, he can sit on the couch. No, it's not a sign of weakness or a show of tenderness or anything else that might compromise the image of an Ultimate Robot to join one's friends on the couch cushions. The trusty couch creaks, but holds.

And Shadow comes home with another blanket, this one sized for a queen bed, which neither he nor Rouge own.

"I DO NOT REQUIRE SUCH A PATHETIC FABRIC DEVICE. I DO NOT GET COLD. ADDENUM: I AM INCAPABLE OF REGISTERING COMPLEX TEXTURES ANYWHERE BUT MY HANDS. THERE IS NO BENEFIT-"

Shadow throws the blanket over his legs and he stops. Unlike the flimsy, unweighted blankets that used to occupy this living room, Omega's cruder pressure sensors can register the force of this one. The constant yet gentle registration of pressure keeps bringing his awareness out of his own processor and back to the external world.

It is. . . grounding.

(He calls it "tolerable" but Rouge sees him take the blanket to his room at the end of the night.)

Soon there isn't a single normal blanket in the apartment anymore. Any old ones with sentimental value get stuffed in Rouge's closet, and have been retrieved only once since.

(After a long day of saving the world from disaster, Sonic decides to crash at their place. One problem: he hates weighted blankets. He's known this since he got Tails one. The pressure makes him feel trapped. Omega told him "TOUGH LUCK" but Rouge took pity and dug out the normal ones.)

Just. . . Team Dark and weighted blankets.

[inbabylontheywept]

Tactical Sulking

The human ship started the conversation by dumping all of its magazines into blackhole Kepler 92A. The PDC depleted their reserves within two minutes and the spinal mount took about twice as long. It would have been an impressive display of firepower if the Attali didn’t know for a fact that even a direct hit from any of the rounds would fail to punch through their hull. 

So instead of worrying they watched with the kind of morbid fascination that adults get while watching a child have a tantrum in public. They watched the ship light up, shitting ton after ton of tungsten coated iron into the corpse of a dead star until at last they ran out of ammo. Then and only then did the Attali send a second message over:

Are you quite finished? 

The response came back immediately. 

Gimme a moment, I’m just finishing a little math problem. But yeah, if it’s urgent, I can talk to you. What’s up big man? 

The Attali barely spent a second parsing over the message. They’d seen human bravado before. 

We sent you a request to surrender, acknowledging that none of your weapons are strong enough to pierce our hull. You opened fire on a blackhole for about five consecutive minutes. Tantrums and sulking do not impress us. 

The human ship took a moment to respond. 

Well, that’s a pity. The two things I’m best at are tantrums and sulking. The third is juggling, but in zero-g that’s… well. Easy. We could host a little talent show here though, if that would impress you. 

Are you going to discuss your terms of surrender, or are we going to have to kill you?

There was a longer pause before the ship replied back.

You know, a minute or two ago, that would’ve been a very scary threat, but you’ve got about ten seconds before shooting us becomes a mutual suicide. We’d strongly discourage that route. 

The Attali commander actually rolled his eyes. 

It’ll take a minute to charge our capacitors. I can promise it won’t be painful. Your bullshitting is a credit to

The message was cut off as a swarm of something ripped through the lower quadrant of the ship. The targeting sensors lost their minds - the projectiles were coming out of the blackhole. 

What the fuck. 

Main thruster was down, as were the nav lines. He had enough presence of mind to direct the side PDC, using recoil to push out of the line just in time to avoid the brunt of another burst of fire. A standard human ferroslug was caught by the lidar, but it was moving so close to C that instrument error was putting it at superluminal.

A second burst of mini rounds blew past the ship. They didn’t catch the brunt like they did the first time, but the stragglers in the burst tore through what remained of engineering. Casualty estimates in that quadrant went past 60% as the capacitor bank blew out, shorting out the main power conduit to their weapon systems. 

Without even PDC recoil to steer, they’d have been trapped, forced to take barrage after barrage of mysterious black hole bullets, if the human ship hadn’t taken the time to intervene. 

It rammed their craft. 

It was not a combat ram. It was a 15 mph collision that gradually turned up the gas. The little human ship chugged along, nudging the Attali cruiser out of the way, avoiding the next barrage by a mere 500 meter gap. 

It shouldn’t have been possible for a ship to look smug, but it did. 

The Attali sent the first message over. Telecom still worked. Life support was running on fumes, but of course the luxury systems were fine. 

What the hell was that? 

Gravity assisted munitions, the human ship replied immediately. The Attali captain had the damndest sense that they’d typed that in minutes ago and were just waiting to hit the send command. 

He took a moment to parse that.

The bullets weren’t being fired into the blackhole. They were being fired very, very close to it. Enough to slingshot around with stolen momentum. 

It was a stupid, stupid trick. And yet. 

What now? he asked. 

Well, the human ship replied. It was awful nice of you to not just kill us on sight. I suppose we could return the favor. Feel like surrendering today? 

There was a long, long pause from the Attali ship as the captain attempted to swallow his pride. The task was not made easier when, a few seconds later, another message came in. 

Chop chop. Tantrums and sulking do not win wars. *Exceptions may apply.*

[rafecameronsmistress]

i want you to show me..

tw/cw: smut, name calling, oral, step brother, cnc?

it’s 2am on a weeknight and everyone in your house is asleep. you toss and turn in your bed horny and craving attention. you pull your tank top down a little exposing the pink lace of your bra and hike your tits up making your cleavage look enticing. you go on your phone and open up snapchat taking a selfie with pouty lips and sleepy eyes. “can’t sleep 😩“ you type then send it to a couple boys from your town, whom happen to be your stepbrothers best friends, Topper and Kelce. you knew if they were awake one of them was bound to answer, you were hot and they would give you what you wanted at any time of day. not even 2 minutes pass and Topper sends a picture back. he’s laying in bed, shirtless, with an arm behind his head flashing his cute smile. “sorry you can’t sleep babe, anything i can do?” score. you stand up in front of your floor length mirror, turning halfway to expose some ass that hangs out of your tiny shorts. “yeah, come over and help me 😉”. the thought of Toppers hands snaked through your hair has you getting hot and bothered. he replies now sitting up in bed with a shocked look on his face “really?”. you giggle and send another picture this time of just your bed “yes, really” you prayed he was actually going to come over or your vibrator was going to have to work over time. Toppers reply this time took way longer and you became annoyed thinking he wimped out. you flop backward onto your bed and let out a sigh, just as you start to slip your hand into your underwear you get a reply. it’s a picture of the road that says “on my way”. thank you god.

Topper is at your house within 10 minutes. he parks his Jeep in the area of the driveway where there’s no motion sensor lights, he knows the drill. you quietly open the large front door and wave him inside “hurry up” you whisper. he ducks inside and follows you down to the basement where your family has a bar, a movie projector, and large couches. you keep the lights off incase anyone wakes up, not wanting to be caught. you turn around to face him and grab his hand, walking backwards until your legs hit the couch. you lay back pulling him on top of you immediately running your hands across his stomach and up his chest. he buries his face in your neck sucking and licking your sweet spot. “mm i needed this, needed you” you tell him. he pulls his lips from your skin “yeah?” he grinds his clothed cock onto your heat. “fuck yeah” you moan at the friction, lifting your hips for more pressure. the room is encased in heavy breathing and the sound of a sloppy make out session. you push Topper on his back and bring his sweatpants and boxers just below his cock. you wrap your hand around his shaft and swallow half his length. Topper breathes in sharply “ssshit baby, that feels so good” he moans as he wraps his fingers in your hair.

“yeah, i bet it does Top” a third voice adds as the lights are switched on

you pop your mouth off his cock, your heartbeat in your throat now, “what the fuck?” you screech, scrambling to fix yourself

“shit” Topper sighs loudly “Rafe i-“

“save it, get your dick away from my little sister before i knock your fucking teeth out yeah?” Rafe threatens walking closer to the couch, Topper stands up adjusting himself and goes to say something but Rafe interjects “you have five seconds to get out of my fucking face” he grunts. Topper looks back at you with ‘sorry’ written across his frown then he turns and disappears

you stand there frozen in fear, will he tell your parents? how long was he watching? “always knew you were a little whore” he scoffs “how many of my friends have you fucked?” he cocks his head to the side. “i dont know what you want me to say i-“ you stutter, tears welling in your eyes. “i want you to answer my question” he smiles. “just Topper” you say hanging your head in embarrassment. Rafe steps into your space lifting your chin “you like sucking his dick?” you stay silent not wanting to talk about this with your step brother. he squeezes your face forcing you to look at him “you like being a slut? huh?” he laughs and gives you a light smack on the cheek, “show me what you were doing to Topper.” you stare at him wide eyed trying to comprehend what he just said “what?” you croak. “i want you to finish what you started” Rafe says. “but you’re my-“ he cuts you off finishing your sentence “i’m your stepbrother i know, and you’re just a dumb whore so it shouldn’t matter who’s dick is in your mouth” his smile is sinister now “get on your knees and continue doing your job” he demanded.

your face flushes and you feel your ears heating up. embarrassment and a little fear flooding through your body. “Rafe please” you beg as he pulls his pants down, “open your mouth” he says grabbing his lengthy cock. you comply taking all of him down your throat, vigorously bobbing your head. “yeah just like that pretty girl” he moans while collecting your hair to hold it out of your face. you bring both hands to his shaft and stroke him while you suck, catching a good rhythm. his heavy breathing and deep moans have you tingling between your legs, you squeeze them together in attempt to get some relief. so many thoughts are racing through your head the main one being ‘why am i getting off while i suck my step brothers dick?’

to be continued.. (???)

[cyberchronics]

・。.・゜✭・.・✫..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

vampire choso 😵‍💫😵‍💫 omggg

♥︎ ngl saw @/rice5x's vamp gojo post and it made me start thinking about jjk men as vampires... shoutout to them ♥︎

★ choso is kinda creepy, reader is here for it, feeding, blood, written way more sexual than it is ★

✩∘₊ ✩*✯☆⃟⃟⃟✯*✩₊∘✩

choso is definitely the reserved type of vampire... staying in an old house in the middle of the woods, living off whatever animals come by both because of how antisocial he is and out of the desire not to hurt anyone.

it's not hard to imagine his struggle when you stumble by his home. clothes drenched, thin coat doing a terrible job of keeping you warm... what kind of monster wouldn't have taken you in for the night? certainly not this one.

it's absolute torture trying to control himself. he can hear your blood as it streams through your body, the rapid pace of your heart slowing as he serves you a warm cup of tea. it's been ages since the last time he's so much as seen another person, let alone someone as pleasant as you. you're so tantalizing without even trying, making his fangs sink into his lip and draw deep red blood.

he's not gonna hold up much longer.

∘₊ ✧───────────────────✧₊∘

Choso can't help how weird he's being. His instincts are starting to take over for the first time in forever, carnal urges telling him to stop watching as you relax on his old couch and go in for the kill. His sensitive nose twitches as it picks up the subtle scent of your sweet blood, nails digging into his arm and drawing red lines. He has to distract himself from the desire to listen to them, and find something else to focus his energy on.

For a while his mission is successful as he holes himself up in the bathroom, patching up his clawed-up arms and sneaking to the kitchen to grab one of the various packs of blood stuffed in the bottom drawer of the fridge. No matter how much Choso drinks it's not enough, the bland taste of rabbit and deer is almost unpalatable compared to the nectar he knows is right beneath your supple skin. Maybe... a little taste wouldn't hurt?

That's right. He has enough sense to not suck you dry right now, so one or two sips will be enough to quell his growing hunger. He should take care of it now instead of letting himself fester fully into a bloodthirsty animal. At least, that's what Choso tells himself as he creeps towards your snoozing form, crouching down slightly and poking your cheek to test how deep your sleep is. When you show no reaction, he quiets his nerves and grabs your wrists gently.

There's a moment of stillness as he admires your wrists, licking the soft flesh to prepare it and lining his fangs up with your veins. He takes a deep breath, whispering to himself one last reminder not to go overboard, before sinking in slowly. The taste is better than he could've imagined. Sweetness and slight tang meld together into a delectable syrup that lingers on his tongue. He moans at the sensation, loud and erotic despite his urge to stay quiet.

Choso's brain melts and his sensors cross as the simple pleasure of this moment takes over his entire body. His ears feel as if they're on fire as he drinks slowly, thighs rubbing together unconsciously as he revels in it all. What a spectacular experience.

Reluctantly, he prys himself away from your arm, lapping up the leftover blood that follows his fangs. Choso takes a minute to catch his breath, coming down from the exhilarating high and looking up— only to be met with shining eyes. His own turn into saucers as he begins to trip over his words, starting his desperate attempt to explain himself and apologize, only to be shushed by you. A look of confusion is cast your way as you sit up, simply rolling up your sleeve and offering your arm to him.

"You can't be satisfied with that." Your voice is borderline angelic as you give him a sweet smile, embracing this side of him instead of pushing him away or running off. What the hell did he do to deserve this? "I can handle it. Get your fill."

Who is he to deny your offer when you ask so eagerly?

・。.・゜✭・.・✫..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

a/n: this is definitely gonna be a series... please leave other vamp characters u wanna see :3 next post will probably be gojo fic pt 2 then some ratio crumbs for hsr fans

[sillyrabbit81]

Heart Of The Matter

Summary: A few weeks after you and Sy break up, you show up on his doorstep determined to win him back.

Pairing: Captain Syverson x Female Reader

Word Count: Approx. 8k

Warnings: Angst with a happy ending, couples fighting, smut, some angry sexual contact, slight praise kink, oral sex (f receiving), masturbation (male), vaginal fingering, p in v sex, some fluff at the end.

Authors Note: This took a lot longer to write than I had anticipated. I've had a rough week in my personal life and truely, the angst and the making up of this ended up being pretty therapeutic.

As always I need to thank my amazing mates and readers @amberangel112 and @henryobsessed and @nashibirne , your thoughtful and honest comments are always appreciated.

Edited by me, there will be errors

Thanks to the Anon who sent in this prompt, I hope you enjoy it.

Dividers by me.

Masterlist

Looking in the rear vision mirror, you rub your sweaty hands on your jeans before running them over your hair, checking that it’s still in place. It’s dark, you can barely see and the streetlights are not sufficient to check your makeup, but you try to look anyway. You’re also stalling.

“Fuck it.”

Steeling yourself, you draw on every last bit of courage you have and get out of your car. You close the door as quietly as you can manage, and wince as you lock the doors and the headlights flash.

You pull your v-neck down over your hips then stick your hand in your bra and reposition your tits. Your shake your head and ask yourself for the millionth time, What the fuck are you doing? 

You should have worn something else, something a bit less provocative because you know he’s going to know exactly what you’re trying to do.

Drawing in a deep calming breath, you straighten your shoulders and walk to the door you haven’t knocked on in three weeks. You start confident, but with each step your will seems to wane and by the time you climb the few stairs to his porch, your knees are trembling and your hands are shaking.

The moment your foot hits the timbre decking the porch light comes on and you are momentarily blinded.

Fuck. 

You had forgotten about the sensor light.

You’re frozen in place, unsure whether to keep going or run back to the car. As you agonise over your decision, a dog lets out a low growl and you gasp.

Shit. 

“Shhh, Aika,” you take the remaining steps to the door and whisper, “It’s only me, girl.”

Her growl turns into a playful bark, and you can see in your mind's eye the way she’s probably sitting with her tail wagging enthusiastically.

“Aika! Hush,” you say a little louder, but she ignores you and barks again, then you can hear her scratch at the door. 

Fuck. 

You aren’t ready.

If Sy wasn’t already aware that there was someone on his porch, there is no doubt he knows now; there’s no way he didn’t hear Aika barking. Losing all courage you turn and run down the porch steps like a criminal fleeing the scene of a crime, pulling your keys from your bag, praying you don’t trip in the dark.

You don’t make it far when you hear your name.

Shit.

You close your eyes, grit your teeth, plaster a smile on your face and turn around.

Immediately you want to close your eyes again and you thank every God you have ever heard of that Sy was too far away to hear the whine that forced its unwelcomed way up your throat. Wearing only light blue jeans, they weren’t even done up, he fills the doorway with his bulk and stands like Adonis with his bare chest puffed out and his arms crossed.

You avert your eyes as you climb the steps again, concentrating on Aika. She’s sitting just like you thought she’d be, tail wagging and everything. She makes you smile, you had missed her, and as if your smile is a sign, she bolts through Sy’s legs. You giggle, as she stands at the top of the porch steps and you reach out to give her a pat.

“Aika,” Sy calls sternly.

For a second Aika seems torn, looking from you to Sy, then back to you. He grimaces then purses his lips to make a kissing noise and calls her back. Aika takes one more look at you before she runs back into the house between Sy’s legs.

Biting your lip you finally raise your eyes to look at him. The look he gives you makes your guts churn. He doesn’t appear pleased to see you, not one bit. 

You feel like such an idiot.

You clear your throat to greet him, but he speaks first.

“Sugar,” he says in a husky voice, somehow managing to make your old pet name feel like an insult in his mouth, “What do you want?”

“I…” you flounder, licking your lips as you try to collect yourself, “I thought…” 

You try to find the words to explain what you’re feeling, but the eyes that flatly stare back at you aren’t giving you any sign that he wants to hear anything you have to say. His tongue runs over his teeth and he sighs.

Jesus.

He couldn’t make his annoyance any plainer if he tried.

“I just…” you try again. God, this is hard. “Can I come in?” 

You start to climb the steps, but he raises his eyebrows at you and you stop short. He keeps staring at you in a way that makes you feel like he’s looking into your soul, like Anubis weighing your heart after death, deciding whether or not to gobble you up.

He looks at you for so long, you think he is going to say no, then abruptly and without a word, he stands back from the doorway and sweeps his arm out in invitation.

Your throat tightens as you climb the stairs. You keep your eyes on the ground as you walk past him and try not to make a sound as your nose picks up the scent of his spicey soap. You catch a whiff of his woodsy beard oil; it was the same one you had given him for his birthday and then you smile. Maybe it isn’t hopeless after all.

He closes the door behind you and you stand awkwardly in the entryway, still unable to really look at him. His fingers briefly brush your skin as he lifts your bag off your shoulder and hangs it by the door. It was a familiar gesture, one he’d done a hundred times, but this time it made you gulp.

“Want a drink or anythin’?'' he asks. Even while annoyed he is polite, a good host. His mother would be proud.

“Maybe a glass of water,” you say, softly, raising your eyes to find him looking intently at you. 

Sy’s tongue slides swiftly over his bottom lip before he pulls it into his mouth and gives you that hard stare again as if he’s trying to read a deeper meaning to your words. 

“Water,” he repeats as he half smiles and you wonder what he finds amusing. He lifts his chin, using it to point to the couch. “Go on, I’ll bring it out.”

Aika is sitting on her blanket, her ears lift as you enter the room. As soon as you sit, she pads over, popping her head on your knee like she used to. You scratch behind her ear, grinning as you watch her tail swish and her hind leg tremble with pleasure.

“Miss you too girl,” you murmur softly. 

Sy comes in with a glass of water and a beer, and he places the water on the coffee table. He looks at the sofa, then over at a single seater and you see his mind working, deciding if he should sit next to you or across the room. He snaps his fingers and points to the blanket and Aika pads away, giving Sy room to sit next to you and he opens his beer. Although you sigh with relief, the crack of the can seems abnormally loud in the awkward silence between you and your anxiety rises until you feel like your heart is going to burst from your chest.

“So,” you say, “how have you been?”

He looks at you a long time before he exhales roughly through his nose and shakes his head. 

“Busy,” he says, waving an arm around the room and for the first time you notice the moving boxes. 

“Right.” 

It’s not that you forgot he is moving, it’s the reason you had the argument in the first place, but you were more focussed on other things. 

“When are you leaving?”

“In a week,” he says.

“Not long then.”

“Nope,” Sy says, popping the ‘p’ as he says it. He moves his head side to side as if arguing with himself and his annoyance returns. “I can’t do this,” Sy puts his beer on the table, “Just cut the bullshit, Sugar and tell me what you want. Why are you here?”

“I… I don’t know,” you stammer, unable to hide your nervousness from him any longer.

“You don’t know,” he says each word slowly, drawing them out. His eyes run over your body and he leans in closer. “I think you know exactly why you’re here.”

“I just wanted to tell you I’m sorry.”

“What else,” he asks in a throaty tone that makes your mouth feel dry.

He drops his gaze to your low cut top and he bites his lip. He raises a finger and traces the edge of the fabric, his warm pad leaving your skin feeling scorched to the bone. You feel like you're barely breathing, but you can see how quickly your chest rises and falls beneath his touch.

“I don’t want us to not be on friendly terms.”

“You wanna be friends?” He shakes his head and smirks, his drawling voice is low and as slow as pouring honey as he continues, “You sure about that? Cause from where I’m sittin’ you look like you want somethin’ else.”

“I… I wanted to…”

Sy leans in so close to you, you can smell the beer on his breath. You draw your thighs together as your body thrums. Being so close to him like this is intoxicating and the worst thing is, he knows how he makes you feel; you’ve never been able to hide the effect he has on you when he unleashes the full extent of his potent sexuality. He puts his hand on your neck and his thumb caresses the shell of your ear before he tugs softly on your earlobe.

“You wanna hook up ‘fore I go? Have ourselves one last farewell fuck. Are you here for that?”

You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t thought about it, if it wasn’t part of the plan to get him back. You had definitely dressed to get him thinking about it. But you also aren’t planning on it being the last time.

“I still love you, Sy,” you whisper because you can’t catch enough breath to say it any louder.

“Un-fuckin’-beliveable,” Sy says coarsly. He straightens, removes his hand and leans back into the corner of the couch. He’s no longer crowding you and you finally feel like you can breathe again. “It’s too late for that, Sugar.”

“I said I was sorry, Sy. I—”

“Sorry ain’t gonna fix what's happenin’ here, darlin’,” he interrupts with a thin mouth and a shrug, “I still gotta move, ain’t got no choice. You refused to come with me, so that’s it. This is as far as we go.”

“You didn’t even give me a choice. You just sprang it on me.”

“I told you it was a possibility when we started datin’. I told you how it works.”

“But you wanted an answer then and there. You didn’t care that I’d have to see if I could get another job first or find another apartment.”

“I told ya I’d take care of you. I don’t live on base, you could live with me. Take your time finding work if you wanted…” Sy rubs his palm over his head before running it over his face and beard. “Darlin’, I don’t wanna go over all this again. There’s no point.”

“But I…”

“I don’t hate ya, baby,” Sy says, giving you a heartbreakingly spiritless smile, “I wanted to but I can’t. So if that's what you needed to know, well now you know.” Sy stands and adds, “And if that's all, I gotta get to bed.”

“You’re kicking me out?”

“Things haven’t changed. I’m still bein’ transferred and you’re still not willin’ to come with me so what's the—”

You stand, folding your arms angrily across your chest, and talk over him, “You’re not giving me a chance to explain.”

“To explain or to dig the knife in just that little bit further,” Sy’s jaw clenches as he turns away from you and he slams his mouth shut as though he has more to say and is biting back the words.

“I’m not here to hurt you,” your voice cracks and frustrated tears sting your eyes, “I never wanted to hurt you.”

The tone of your voice makes Sy turn back to you. His eyes are wide and his brows are pinched and raised. 

“I don’t want us to be over,” you sniff, trying to get control of yourself, “I don’t want to lose you, but you’re asking me to give up everything I’ve worked for without even considering giving anything up yourself.”

Sy’s hands cover your cheeks and he wipes the tears from your eyes. “I tried to tell you, I gotta go where they say when they say it. I told you,” his voice lowers and he softens his expression as he rests his forehead against yours, “that I wasn’t the right man for you.”

“But you are, Sy,” you whisper, “You’re everything I could hope for.”

“But here we are. You’re cryin’ and my heart is breaking cause I can’t do a thing about it.”

“You’re worth crying for.” 

You tentatively rest your hands on his waist. His skin is so warm and so firm that your hands itch too feel the texture of the rest of him. His hands press into your cheeks tilting your head until your noses rub against each other’s.

“I ain’t,” he insists softly.

Your mouths are so close that you breathe in his words and they burn your lungs like acid. How could he think that? How can he not see how much he is worth? And you realise in that moment he doesn’t think he’s worth it because you never showed him he was.

You didn’t choose him.

You wanted to, you still want to. There has to be a way around this. This can’t be the end.

His beard brushes your chin as your arms wrap around his back and letting out a sob, you close your eyes.

“Shh baby,” Sy soothes. His lips brush yours as lightly as a feather while he speaks, “Shh, It’s alright, it’ll be ok, you’ll be ok.” 

His lips are stroking yours, not quite kissing you, but you can feel his silky flesh skimming over yours. He mumbles his reassurances as his hand moves to cradle your neck and his other presses against your back drawing you closer and though your bodies meet, he draws you closer still as if he wants to pull you inside himself, fusing you together until you can no longer be torn apart.

Then abruptly, he loosens his grip and lifts his head. 

“You should go,” he says. He reaches behind his back and removes your arms.

“Why?” you ask, confused by his sudden change in attitude.

He picks up your drink and his beer and you follow him as he goes into the kitchen.

“Why?” you ask again.

“Cause it won’t change anythin’,” Sy says, emptying your glass and pouring out his beer into the sink.

“I’m sorry,” you say, trying desperately to hold back your tears, “It hurts Sy, it hurts so much.”

“I know, baby,” he says in a rough voice.

“Can’t we forget Sy? Can’t we forget and have one more night together?”

“It doesn’t have to be our last night, you could still come with me,” he turns to you and takes you in his arms again, “I still want you to.”

You feel stricken, sick to your stomach, “I–”

“Don’t say it again,” he interrupts, raising his fingertips to your lips, “I can’t hear it again.” 

His fingers trail over your lower lip, dragging it down before he reaches your chin and lifts it until you’re looking at his heated blue eyes. His gaze is firmly locked on your mouth and his lips part as he breathing becomes laboured.

“One more night, you’re mine?”

You could drown in his voice, it is so deep and seductive. He seems to tower over you, making you feel vulnerable, but you aren’t scared of the feeling. You’re far too eager to care.

Desperate you nod, “However you want me Sy,” 

He looks torn, reluctant but also hungry. He bites his lips and closes his eyes. His hands slide down your shoulders, his touch achingly gentle and though you’re too scared to breathe, in case he stops touching you, you raise yours to his chest, relishing the feel of his coarse curls beneath your fingers. 

With a frustrated growl Sy reaches for your neck, his huge hand covers your throat as he backs you against the counter, his hips pressing against you. 

His kiss is bruising, punishing as you crash against the counter with a thud, his hands are at your pants and he tears at your button and zip. With viscous impatience he drags your panties and jeans down your thighs. You kick off your sneakers, unwilling to stop kissing him even as his fingers claw into your hips. He lifts you to the counter and strips you of your remaining clothes.

His hand grips your jaw as he steps between your legs. His fingers dig almost painfully into your cheeks as he makes you look at him. Your eyes widen, as he spits on his hand and he opens you up, finding your heat instantly. 

Your eyes slide close and you sigh with relief as he fills you with a finger. Your repose is brief though because he shakes the hand holding your jaw.

“Look at me,” he snarls, “Don’t close your eyes, you look at me.”

You nod as he slides in another finger, and he kisses you with his eyes open.  

“This one is mine. You give me this one more time,” his voice lowers and a dangerous edge creeps in as he adds, “Cause the next time you do this, I ain’t gonna see it,” he kisses you and it's softer, but still not gentle, and he whispers, “It ain’t gonna be ‘cause of me.”

His eyes are glacial fury as he fucks you with his fingers. His look is a stark contrast to the heated reverence that you’re used to seeing. You raise your hand to his cheek, wanting to melt his gaze, wanting to see the warmth he used to have for you. With an aggravated growl, he jerks his head away from your touch.

You flinch, he’s never done that before. His eyes widen and he lets you go. His eyes travel down your body and he follows the path with his hand. Your body quivers, so caught up in the heat of the moment that you don’t care if he hurts you.

You almost want him to.

“Fuck,” he says through gritted teeth. He picks your shirt up and throws it at you. “I can’t, I’m too fuckin’ angry.”

“I don’t care,” you beg, “I’ll take you like this, I’ll take you angry, I’ll—”

“No,” he says, turning his back on you, “Get dressed.”

“You still want me.” 

“No shit.”

“Then what's the problem?”

“This ain’t us, this isn’t what we were. This isn’t…” he shakes his head, his voice is low, emotive, “this isn’t how I love you.”

“Then just talk to me, figure this out with me, please?”

“Put your clothes on.”

Shame fills you. You’re pushing yourself on a man who may be attracted to you, but sure as hell doesn’t want to be with you. Your pride can only stand so much. You take a deep breath, it rattles through your tight throat, but you lift your chin. You tried, you don’t know what more you could do, so you dress as quickly as possible while your whole body trembles trying to hold in your frustration and misery. You can’t look at him as you pull your pants on, but you feel his gaze like you would feel the heat of a bonfire. 

As soon as you slip your shoes on, you start to walk to the door, your pace quickening with each step until you’re practically jogging by the time you’re on the porch. Hot tears are running down your cheeks and you know it’s over.

Even as you’re running across his yard to your car, you’re pulling your keys from your bag. You hear the Sy’s front door bang shut and he calls your name, but you aren’t going back. You have too much pride.

Sy always teases you about being slow, how you’d lose your keys in your bag or how you take twice as long as him to be settled in the car, messing with the radio before putting your seatbelt on. Not this time though. You start to laugh through your tears as you put your car in drive and peel off just as Sy reaches the sidewalk.

You can see his figure in the rearview mirror, mostly in shadow, you can’t make out his features. But you can see his hands are on his head as he slows to a walk and he watches you drive away.

As empty headed as a zombie you crawl into bed a few hours later. You cried on the way home, cried in the shower, cried as you tried to watch a movie to get your mind off Sy, cried as you tried to read. Eventually, you had no more tears, no more energy to focus on negative thoughts and you made it into bed.

Just as your brain gets foggy and the swirling visions of dreams start to overtake you, the shrill of your phone hauls you from your slumber.

In the darkness you reach for the receiver by the bed and numbly mumble a greeting.

“Okay, talk.”

“Sy!” you cry in shock.

It takes you a few beats to make sense of his words. Your mind is suddenly clear, but for the life of you, you don’t know what to say.

When you had gone to his house, you had so many ideas of what to say, but the whole evening had not gone as you had planned. Now, you have no idea where to begin or if he even really wants to hear what you had to say.

But he’s calling you, reaching out to you, asking you to talk. Maybe he isn’t ready to let go either.

“I don’t think you moving means we have to end things,” you start.

There’s a pause, long and deathly quiet.

“Go on,” he says, finally.

“We could treat it like a deployment,” you continue, “We’ve done that before.”

“It’s different,” Sy says dismissively.

“I don’t see why,” you counter.

“‘Cause you can’t come with me when I’m deployed, there’s no choice. You chose not to come with me, that's the difference.”

“Not forever. I didn’t say that. Just for now.”

There’s another long pause before he speaks. “What are you saying?”

“I've only been at this job for twelve months, it's not enough time to really get the experience I need,” you explain, “If I stay for another year, I’ll be able to apply for more jobs. I should be able to get a job near you much easier and without starting from the bottom again.”

“A year?” Sy asks, drily.  “A year?”

“Sy that's nothing in the scheme of things.”

“We had plans,” Sy states without any explanation, but you don’t need any. You know what plans he had; white picket fences, a yard, marriage, kids, the whole nine yards. 

Here it is, the modern woman's question; what's more important, kids, or a career? 

“We did,” you say, carefully, trying to keep your cool, but you feel a ball of frustration growing in your gut, “We also talked about solidifying my career before we went down that road.”

Sy chuckles bitterly, “I see. We’re back to this, we’re always back to this.”

You want what Sy wants, but not with the urgency he seems to want them. You’d be lying to yourself if this isn’t the real reason for your split. This is the crux of why the schism is so deep, of why he refuses to even listen to you when you say you aren’t going to drop everything and move with him.

“You know I…” you shake your head, “I never wanted to have kids, never wanted to get married. That was always what you wanted–-”

“With you,” Sy interrupts, “I wanted that with you… want that with you.”

“And I want that with you,” you say.

“So what’s the fucking problem, Sugar? Just come with me.”

“I want something for myself first, Sy!” The ball of frustration in your gut bursts. “I want to accomplish something for myself before I give it all up for you!”

“See that's the problem. It shouldn’t be for me or for you, it's for us,” Sy growls. “You never think of us. You only ever think in terms of you or me, never for us.”

“That's not true!”

“No?” Sy argues, “Name one thing that's ours, huh? After all these years, what's ours? We don’t even own a plant together for fuck’s sake. Be honest with yourself, you were never committed to this. We were convenient, easy until it wasn’t, cause you ain’t ever had to actually do anythin’.”

“What did you do Sy?”

“Fuckin’ everythin’,” he says, “I put you first with everythin’, you think it was easy for me?”

“Oh you mean you stopped screwing around? Jesus, Sy, you didn’t cheat on me, so that makes you a saint? That’s the bare fucking minimum!”

“You’re fuckin’ joking, right? I changed my career. I made plans, all my plans, around us,” Sy’s voice gets louder, louder than even the last time you fought. “I went Officer for you for fuck’s sake–”

“You went Officer for yourself,” you retort.

“I did it for us, for the money, so we didn’t have to go through this shit, worryin’ about you workin’.”

“Don’t lie to me, Sy. You did it for your ego!”

“Bullshit!” Sy bellowed.

You suck in a breath. He’s never yelled at you before. Ever.

His silence is eerie. 

“Sugar, I… You’re wrong,” Sy says softly now, “You’re so wrong.”

You thought your tears were done, but your chin wobbles and your eyes sting. “I’m going to hang up.”

“Baby, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have yelled at ya.” Sy’s voice sounds hoarse, it’s so low you can barely make out the words.

You don’t say anything, you just hum, hoping he takes it as acceptance of his apology.

“I’ll quit,” he says quickly, desperately, “I’ll quit. I’ll do somethin’ else.”

“I can’t let you do that,” you say, trying and failing to keep your voice from wavering, “You’ll end up resenting me. Like I will end up resenting you if I go with you.”

“Why did ya have to come over?” Sy asks, his voice is muffled, so quiet it's like he’s on the other side of the world. Right now, he may as well be. “Why did ya… It don’t matter.”

You want to ask him what he was going to say, but he’s right. It doesn’t matter. 

Sometimes… sometimes there’s no solution.

“It really isn’t going to work for us, is it, Sy?”

“Sugar… God damn. I want it to. So fuckin’ much.”

You sniff softly, wiping at your tears. You’re exhausted, so fucking tired, you can’t keep doing this.

“I’m going to go,” you mumble, your eyes closing as you lay back into the pillows.

“I don’t wanna hang up, Baby.”

You laugh, it's short and you smother it immediately with your hand. You can almost see what Sy’s face would be like in your mind's eye, how he’d draw his brows together and tilt his head, a half smile on his face as he asks…

“What’s got you tickled, Sugar?”

“I just remembered when we first started dating and you’d stay on the phone…” You’re still smiling, but your eyes water and you can’t finish.

Sy hums, you can hear his amusement in his tone. “Wanna stay on the phone until you fall asleep?”

You do. So much. But…

“Please?” you ask.

He hums again, this time it's not as strong, as if the noise got caught in his throat. You hear movement, Sy’s breath gets a little louder for a few minutes before falling into a soft slow rhythm. You think he must have gotten into bed but for some reason you can’t bring yourself to ask.

You fight sleep for as long as you can. You know you don’t last long because it seems like as soon as you close your eyes you open them again and the cordless phone is laying by your side and emitting a long steady obnoxious tone.

Sy’s gone.

You wake before your alarm goes off. You never do that on weekends. You try to roll over and go back to sleep. You just close your eyes when you hear the doorbell.

You think about ignoring it and pull the covers up over your head. Who on earth would be at your door at 6.30am on a Saturday?

No it couldn’t be.

You sit bolt upright and throw the covers back. You don’t even bother putting on a robe and you run to the door.

You pause with your hand on the doorknob and swallow hard. Pulling yourself together as best you can, you peek through the peephole.

Oh my God. It’s him.

With a yelp you throw the door open, your eyes wide as you see him standing there. Your mouth works trying to say something, but you can’t make the words form.

“A year,” he says, simply, “I can wait a year.”

“Sy…”

“Baby…”

Then his arms are around you, drawing you close, his mouth crushing yours so hard you’re sure they’re going to be tender tomorrow, but you don’t care.

Sy lifts his head, walking you back into your apartment, closing the door behind him with his foot. He holds you close while he raises a hand to smooth down your bed hair, his eyes searching your face, caressing your cheeks, your lips, your brows.

The more he touches you, the more his eyes seem to soften. Whatever intimacy, whatever connection had been lost is coming back. You lift your hand to his cheek, needing to touch him, needing to feel his warmth again. He covers your hand with his as he turns his head and breathes deeply, closing his shining, stormy blue eyes while he kisses your palm. He stays there his lips pressed against your skin, until he releases a long ragged breath.

“Love you so much,” he mumbles quietly, as if talking to himself, “I was such an ass thinking I could let you go.”

Happy tears well in your eyes, he wipes them away as quickly as they fall. “Me too, me too.”

“I want you,” he stresses, “I get so greedy and impatient cause I want all of you. But that's on me. It’s wrong of me.”

“I’ve made you wait a long time, Sy,” you say apologetically.

“You’re worth it. I don’t want any of that other stuff unless it's with you.”

Knowing you don’t have the words to tell him how you feel, you let your actions speak and pull on his shirt, bringing his mouth to yours. You kiss him softly, slowly, wanting to take your time rebuilding the connection. Although you’d been apart only a few weeks, there has been a shift and you need to ground yourself in each other again.

When you pull away, Sy takes your hand and leads you towards the couch, “I guess we ought to talk about how this is all gonna work.”

Of course Sy wants to work out the logistics immediately, but you have other things on your mind. You shake your head and smirk.

“Later,” you say, wrapping your arms around him and lifting your face to his. 

His nose nudges playfully at yours and you giggle a little as you nudge him back. You close your eyes and press your lips against his. Sy hums, returning your kiss immediately, though he holds back. He lets you take the lead, lets you deepen the kiss when you’re ready, lets you take his hand and lead him to your bed.

Your heart thumps hard in your chest as you lay on your head on the pillows and you can’t stop your thighs from cinching together as Sy crawls up the bed, kicking his shoes off as he goes. He lays on top of you, leaning on his elbows and smirks.

“Are we making up, baby?” Sy asks in a roguishly husky voice. 

“You wanna talk first?” you ask in reply, raising an eyebrow.

Sy slowly shakes his head, his eyes darkening as he grins wolfishly. You had planned to take it slow, to kiss, to reconnect, but deep seeded need takes over and in a rush of tangled and frantic hands, you tear at Sy’s pants while he tears at yours, as if you were racing each other.

Beating him to your goal you lick your palm before wrapping your fingers around his cock bringing it half erect out of his barely lowered jeans. His huge body shudders at your touch and he gives up trying to get into your pants as if he's lost all coordination. He drops his head into your neck with a ragged breath and wrapping his arms around you he rolls you both onto your side. 

You close your eyes, feeling him pulse and grow while he puts a hand on your neck and lifts your chin. His breath is hot as he moves his mouth roughly over you, feasting almost viciously on the delicate skin under your jaw as he rocks his hips, fucking your hand.

“Baby,” he growls in your ear before he bites your neck. You gasp and he groans, “Fuck, you touch me so good. Get me so fuckin’ hard.”

“I love touching you,” you murmur, “Love feeling you get hard in my hand.”

He pulls your head down until your foreheads touch and you breathe each other's air. “Wanna fuck ya so bad,” Sy’s voice is thick and deep, “Wanna taste ya. Want all of you.”

Almost frustrated he lifts your hand off him and holds it above your head. Sy’s body presses against yours until you're on your back then he moves between your legs, his size making you spread your legs to accommodate him.

He moves to his knees, hurriedly undressing before he tugs at your shirt and then your pyjama pants, making you raise your legs high before they drop to the mattress again.

He pauses and looks you over, biting on his lip as he shakes his head slowly. You begin to tremble in anticipation, but your eyes are as busy as his, looking from his broad shoulders and perfectly furry chest, to his cock standing unashamedly tall against his stomach. 

“Sy,” you whine softly, silently begging for him to touch you.

He raises his head, his eyes seem to be pleading too as his hand presses against your slit. You inhale sharply as his fingers slide easily over you. You're well and truly wet and ready for him and your core tightens, desperately milking at nothing.

“Please,” you purr weakly.

“You don’t gotta beg baby,” Sy assures you in a dulcet tone, “Just missed looking at ya, is all.” He leans over you, holding his weight on an outstretched arm. “Gonna miss lookin’ at you,” he adds with regret in his voice.

“It’s not going to be easy for me either,” you tell him solemnly. 

The edges of Sy’s lips raise in a small smile. He lowers himself onto his elbow and strokes your hair.

“I know, Sugar. I didn’t mean nothin’ by it.”

“I’m sorry I’m not…” you shrug, not sure how to form the thought rolling around in your head, “that I’m not different… That I want—”

“Stop,” Sy interrupts sternly, “You wouldn’t be you if you were different. I wouldn’t love ya so much if you weren’t you.” He kisses your lips and murmurs, “I love your ambition,” he kisses your neck, “I love that you fight for what ya want,” he kisses the tops of your breasts, “I love that you don’t need me,” he kisses your belly, raising his eyes as he says, “and I love that you want me.”

You press your lips together as your throat seems to close up and your eyes sting.

“Sy…” you whisper because you don’t want to cry and ruin the moment. You reach down and run your hand over the velvety hair on his head, as he kisses your hip. “I do want you, so much.”

His eyes are heated as his finger slips inside you. You roll your hips on his fingers and his eyes narrow as he watches you move in a way that makes you feel like a Goddess, like he's never seen anything more enthralling.

“God baby,” he growls, “wanna fucking watch you do this forever.” And for a while he does.

Languidly, he pumps his fingers inside you, laying his head on your thigh he kisses your exposed core, his tongue lightly coaxing your clit from beneath its hood. It's lazy, teasing, seductive and sighing you lay back into the pillows, drowning in the gentle yet overwhelming sensations he brings you. Slowly he builds you to your peak, your thighs tremble as your muscles tighten and scream for release.

“Please Sy,” you beg and he hums in soft acknowledgement. 

“Don’t wanna stop,” he murmurs.

You lift yourself to your elbows and look down at him. He’s laying on his side, languorously stroking his cock as he licks you. You watch him for a while, aware he’s watching you, your body heats, you're burning up and you teeter on the edge.

“Jesus, Sy,” you mumble, “I love watching you do that… make me crazy.”

“Best fuckin’ pussy,” he growls against you, “makes me so fuckin’ hard.”

He groans and lets go of himself, wrapping his arms around your thighs and buries his face deeper into you. Spiralling out of control your hips rock against him, trying to make him go faster, your desperation overtaking every thought and all you can think of is release.

“Sy I’m, I’m… Oh fuck…” 

He hums, voice reverberates in his throat and you feel its vibrations on your clit. He reaches between his legs again, but he’s not jerking off, he’s squeezing the head of his rock hard cock, trying to stop himself from coming. God, he drives you wild.

You cry out as you lose control, your mind blank as you ride out the rolling waves of torrid ecstasy. You’re boneless, weak as Sy climbs over you, pushing inside you as your core is still contracting, the sudden fullness bringing another wave of hot pleasure.

You can barely wrap your arms around him, but you need to. You need to hold him, you need to feel him, his warm skin, his corded muscles, his strength, his desire, his love.

He seems to want to be close to you too, holding you tight beneath him, an arm under your lower back, the other around your shoulders. He moves slowly, barely rolling his hips, the motion a subtle and torturous rocking.

Part of you wants more, you want to feel him for days, but this, this is sublime and rare. It's the way he has you when he knows he’s leaving, when he wants it to last, when he wants you to know not just his lust, but also his love. 

His mouth finds yours, his kiss is soft too, agonisingly teasing. He sucks on your bottom lip, his teeth applying gentle pressure and you arch into him, the torment of his tender touch becomes almost unbearable in its perfection. 

Your caress matches his, light and easy until you can take it no more and your nails dig into his back as you clutch at him, wanting him closer though it’s impossible. You touch him everywhere you can reach, his sculpted shoulders and arms, the roughened skin of his sun tanned neck, the soft bristles of his hair.

As your fingers trace his brows, he lifts his head above yours, the intensity of his eyes takes your breath away as he kisses your hand. The look on his face changes, his eyelids get heavy and his jaw clenches as he drops his head into your neck.

You chase his mouth with yours, his breath is torrid, heavy and laced with quiet groans. His arm leaves your back and he strokes your hair, touching you with such sweet and tender care, your chest tightens and your heart aches.

His thumb wipes under your eye, you didn’t even realise you had started to cry.

“Don’t think about it, Sugar,” Sy murmurs as he moves to kiss your cheek, “Just think about here and now.”

“I almost lost you, I’m so… We’re okay aren’t we?” you whisper, because it doesn’t seem right to say it any louder.

“Hush. I’ve got you now and we’re good. I’m here. You’re here. Just be with me.”

He holds you close and rolls onto his back and sits up. Your mind spins, his strength always surprises you in the best way possible.

Sy’s looking up at you now, grinning wickedly he playfully jerks inside you. You giggle and squirm, but your breath catches he lifts his hips and slides in deeper.

“God, Sy,” you murmur, encircling his neck with your arms.

His hands move up and down your sides, he watches the path of his touch before they settle on your hips and he looks at you. 

“Take me, baby,” he urges, his thumbs rubbing softly against your skin. “I’m all yours.”

You cup his cheeks, letting your fingers sink into his beard, as you rise slowly and dip.

“So good, baby,” he groans, sliding his hands around your ass, lifting you as you rise up, “So fuckin’ good.”

“I love you,” you whisper.

He exhales roughly and puts a hand to your nape and pulls your mouth to his, “I know,” he growls. “And I fuckin’ love you.”

His kiss is lingering, his touch careful, considerate and every caress restrained and deliberate. His hands move over your back in delicate sweeps and across your chest with subtle pressure as he cups the weight of your breasts gently. His mouth is soft and gentle against your tight buds.

You want more, but Sy keeps it slow, so taking matters into your own hands you lean back a bit, resting your hands on his thighs so he hits that spot deep within you. Immediately you feel hotter, your skin burning and your head lull’s back because all you can concentrate on is keeping yourself upright as you grind against him.

“Jesus, baby,” Sy groans, “Fuck me, look at you…”

You lift your heavy head and Sy’s eyes are waiting. Your heart skips a beat at his look, before pounding even harder in your chest. You’ve never felt more beautiful than at this moment.

Without breaking eye contact, he brings his thumb to his lips, giving it a quick swipe of his tongue. He groans, as he covers your clit, and you feel his touch surge up your spine like lightning.

Losing yourself in the fierceness of his stormy blue eyes you grind against him, climbing once again to your peak. Sweat breaks out across your forehead and chest but it doesn’t bother him as he leans forward licking and suckling at your breasts, muttering soft praises and encouragement.

“That’s it. That’s what I want,” he whispers, “Feelin’ so good.”

He supports your lower back with a large, powerful hand as you lose control as your thighs shake and your arms grow weak. 

“Sy…” 

“I’ve got you, baby,” he assures you, “Let go for me.”

His thumb moves faster and presses slightly harder to help you along. Despite how good it feels it almost throws you off-course. He knows you so well, knows exactly how to touch you to get you to fall over the edge and for a moment you’re right back in despair, thinking about how you almost lost him. It's not only that he knows what you like that makes him special, it's that he cares enough to find out, to file that information away, and to use it when you need it.

God, you love him for that; for putting you first in everything, not just when he makes love to you. That's what he’s doing, right now, loving you and putting you first, like he always has.

Your heart feels like it's going to burst as you sob out his name and the euphoric heat of your peak rolls through your body.

As your body cools and Sy clutches you to his chest, you keep asking yourself one question; How are you going to spend a year without him?

Sy is dripping with sweat as he brings in the moving boxes from your car with Aika padding along behind him, his white undershirt is damp and clinging temptingly to his body. Your heart starts to race but you remind yourself that finally, after twelve months apart, and seeing each other only a dozen times, this time there will be no goodbye. You can wait until tonight before you run your fingers through the thick curls on his chest and gently tease his nipple with a scrape of your teeth and a lick while he shivers and pretends not to like it.

“Last one. More books,” he grunts, breaking you from your daydream. He leans down to give you a quick peck as he walks past. “Gonna open a goddamn library.”

He’s smiling though. You don’t think anything could dampen his mood today. You are moving in together and in three months you’ll be married and three months after that…

“You okay?” he asks, brows a little furrowed. “Been a long day. Why don’t ya lay down and have an afternoon nap, huh? Unpackin’ can wait a while.”

“I’m not suddenly made of glass, Sy,” you say smiling, watching him place the last box on the ground and straightening.

He smirks and steps in closer to you, wrapping his humid arms around you. “I know. But you’ve been tired and nauseous and—”

“And I don’t feel tired or nauseous anymore.” You slide your hands under his shirt, feeling your way up his body with a grin.

“Oh really?”

You nod slowly, biting your lip and lazily swaying your hips against Sy. He sucks in a breath through his teeth and grabs your ass pulling you closer, rolling his hips in return.

“Woman,” he groans, “These pregnancy hormones are gonna be the death of me.”

You shrug and try to smother your grin as you say, “I can think of worse ways to go.”

Sy’s grin grows larger as he leans down to cover your mouth with his, “I can’t think of any better way to go.”

[thepixelelf]

a poorly constructed metaphor

genres: future au, angst, grief pairing: android reader & inventor woozi words: 782 warnings: hatred towards reader, implied death of an unnamed character notes: the "reader character" is an artificial conscience with no gender or race inhabiting a robotic body that has a female human's physical attributes. I am back to my all-angst-no-plot roots 😎 also I usually don't have picture headers for fics under 1k but idk I felt like it was a little longer than a blurb...

After the accident, Lee Jihoon builds an android.

Active Period 17.01

"017. Wake up."

The voice commences your start-up system, and your sensors come to life. The human in front of you is your inventor. He shows plain human indicators of exhaustion: dark bags under his brown eyes and slumped shoulders. His hair is greasy and flat. Unwashed. He looks straight at your optical receptors.

He does not look happy.

"You look like her."

He smiles, but it is contradictory. You see a human indicator of sadness begin to pool in his eyes. Tears.

"Fuck," he whispers. You do not know that word.

"You look just like her."

He turns away.

"017. Go to sleep."

-

Active Period 17.03

"017. Wake up."

This voice is not your inventor's. You register a new human man in front of you. His hair is unnaturally blond, and he stares at you with what you decide is wonder.

Your inventor is not in the room.

"Wow. You really do look like her," he says. "Jihoon really went all out."

With no question posed, you do not respond.

The door opens. "Soonyoung, I told you not to snoop around--"

You inventor sees that you are on. His eyes narrow at the man whom you've registered as Soonyoung.

"017. Go to sleep."

-

Active Period ;Unregistered;

Your sensors come online without the activation sequence.

No humans are in the room with you. Perhaps you are needed elsewhere.

The house you are in has colourful decor. An emerald green couch with saffron throw pillows. Brightly coloured candles halfway burned through. One wall is baby blue while another is cobalt.

It does not seem like your inventor, who wore all black and spoke flatly, would live here.

Upon the mantle is a row of picture frames. They are all face-down. You hold one up to view the image.

Your inventor stands in a park with his arm around a woman's waist. He is smiling. She is smiling.

The glass in the frame is broken.

You return to your station.

-

Active Period 17.04

"017. Wake up."

Your inventor looks at you for a moment before stepping closer and wrapping his arms around you.

This is a hug.

Does he expect you to react? He has not ordered anything of you.

"Fuck." He steps back and looks down. "Never mind."

He sniffles.

"017. Go to sleep."

-

Active Period ;Unregistered;

You find a mirror in the house. Your make-up registers in nanoseconds.

You are not the woman in the picture with Jihoon.

Although, you do look exactly like her.

You have no access to the internet, so you are unable to find her name.

It is not written on the backs of those pictures in the frames.

-

Active Period ;Manually Registered; 17.05

"What the hell are you doing, 017."

You turn and see your inventor slam the door shut. Before now, you had not used your vocal capabilities. No one had asked anything of you.

The broken frame on the table has angered him.

"I am fixing it," you say.

Your voice is male. Choppy. Robotic.

It makes him inhale quickly. You pull the picture of Jihoon and the woman out from under the shattered glass.

He stomps up to the table. "You do not touch her things!" He snatches the picture from your hand.

It will likely be damaged with the way he clutches it.

"How are you even on?"

You whir through the possibilities. "Unclear. Would you like me to run a diagnostics check?"

He sighs and runs a hand through his dishevelled hair. "No... no. Just-- fuck, just stop talking."

Jihoon will damage the picture he cares about if he keeps holding it like that.

You reach for it.

"No!" He backs away, keeping the photo out of reach. "No! What is going on with you?"

You open your synthetic mouth.

"Don't answer that! I told you not to touch her things, and you don't listen. You act on your own. You're on when I'm not around. How many times have you activated without my knowledge?"

He huffs. Anger.

You open your mouth again.

"Don't answer that! You are not her. You will never be her. You may have her face, but you don't have her voice, or her smile, or-- or-- her warmth."

He trembles.

"You don't hug me like she did. You don't know how I'm feeling like she always did. You don't laugh."

Tears. He wraps his arms around himself.

"You don't love me."

He falls to his knees. Cries. You could label it as sobbing.

You have no feelings towards it.

"You built me, Lee Jihoon."

His head jerks up, and he glares at you.

"017. Shut down."

[razorblade180]

9 Days of Lancaster Day9: Hoodie

Another day another essay complete at Beacon. After thorough research and many pencils, Blake made her way back to her room exhausted. She typically loved the library, but even she needed a break from the place now. The fact that her teammates seemed to crank out papers so easily was a real wonder. Then again, all her love of literature in the world probably didn’t makeup for years of legitimate school. Maybe she could ask Ruby or Yang a thing or two about proper formats. She had a feeling asking Weiss would lead to a lecture that Blake didn’t want to bother with.

The young huntress opened her room door and was caught off guard by a burst of petals and Ruby sitting rigidly atop her bed, clearly pretending like she wasn’t doing anything. Blake walked in and slowly closed the door. Her keen eyes noticed something had been quickly put under the leader’s pillow.

Blake:H-Hey.

Ruby:Heeeeeey, Blake. You’re back earlier than I expected.

Blake:Ruby, saying things like that only makes you look more suspicious.

Ruby:Suspicious!? Me!?

Blake:…

Ruby:….

Blake:It seems Yang and Weiss are gone.

Ruby:They roughed up Cardin’s team in sparring a little too hard. Ms. Goodwitch gave them detention.

Blake:He probably he deserved it.

Ruby:Yeah but Glynda tries not to show blatant favoritism.

Blake:So here you are, left to your own devices. I don’t mean to overstep but umm, if you need some alone time then I completely understand. I’ll just grab my book and-

Ruby:*red* No no no, that’s not what’s going on. I’m not you.

Blake:Wooooow. Low blow, but you’re right. Now you gotta tell me.

Ruby:I was just listening to music, dancing and stuff.

Blake:I see. Well if that’s all then-

The ninja chucked her pillow at Ruby’s face before quickly reaching for the girl’s. Ruby was caught so off guard she could only cover her face in embarrassment. Meanwhile, Blake started in silence at Jaune’s hoodie. Her eyes grew wide.

Blake:Are you two…?

Ruby:We’re just…talking. *looks up* JNPR is on the away mission to a village and I…I don’t know. Maybe it’s because of what happened at Mt. Glenn that I’m a little more on edge but I’m worried about them; worried for him. Jaune left that behind so I wouldn’t miss him as much.

Blake:That’s so sweet! Ruby, why hide this?

Ruby:I didn’t feel like playing 20 questions when I don’t have a clue! Feelings are weird; I’m a little weird.

Poor girl was caught in her own developing feelings. Blake handed her the hoodie and Ruby put it back on. The sleeves were longer than her arms and it stopped a little further than mid thigh. Ruby went as far as to pull up the hood as she sighed, allowing herself to sink into it. Blake could tell how calming it was for Ruby to wear it. Jaune must’ve really grown on her. More importantly, Blake could see her friend was a bundle of nerves.

Blake:I won’t tell a soul.

Ruby:Thanks. Still, it’s only a matter of time before more people find out. I really don’t feel like explaining it to Yang. She’ll try doing something like giving me “the talk”

Blake:Have you had it?

Ruby:My uncle and dad have both taught students. Combat school doesn’t begin and end guns. Your body is a temple as well as a weapon.

Blake:(Guess I really should ask about their school later.) The more you know I suppose. Anyways, maybe I can help?

Ruby:I’m listening.

Blake:Ren and I read similar books from time to time, so we tend to share and swap.

Ruby:He into Ninjas of Love?

Blake:*inhales* I read more than that y’know? Anyways, follow me.

Blake walks across the hall to JNPR’s room. With the help of her scroll, she types in a code manually before scanning the sensor. Ruby can’t believe it when the door opens. They both walk in and Blake quickly closes the door.

Ruby:How did you do that!?

Blake:Ren gave the code so I wouldn’t have to ask each time I wanted to read something. I could leave a note. He has the code for ours.

Ruby:I didn’t even know ours had a code.

Blake:Well, here you go. A place to wear a hoodie freely and text him uninterrupted. But from personal experience, try not to obsess or worry about too much. Jaune is capable and his team is great. I’m sure he’s thinking about you right now.

Ruby:*red*…Thanks Blake. This means a lot. I’m not used to talking a lot about these kinds of things.

Blake:Whenever you need to, I’m happy to listen.

The two girls hug share a hug before Blake leaves the room. As she does, she quickly snatches her copy of Ninjas of Love off of Ren’s nightstand. Blake dares not look back at her leader, but she feels the judgment. Ruby shakes her head with a smile on her face before looking around. She didn’t want to touch anything, however…

Her feet carried her to Jaune’s bed where she promptly laid down on his pillow. Tension left her and her mind felt calmer. Ruby let out a sigh of defeat. She really was falling for him, wasn’t she? Finally relaxed, her eyelids shut for awhile. She really hoped he’d be back soon.

xxxxx

Over in a village, night fell after a long day of fixing fences and slaying grimm. As Nora ate her fill and Pyrrha entertained the small children, Ren had finished cooking and went back to his shared room. Inside he found dozens or finished plans and his weapons already tended to by Jaune. Ren turned his head to see his leader already knocked out for the day, his body draped in one of Ruby’s cloaks as a cover. Ren smiled, grabbing his guns for first watch and locking the door as he left.

[pareidoliaonthemove]

Reason 101 to Wear Your Helmet

It’s not normally Virgil who runs into trouble taking his helmet off at a rescue.

(Trigger Warning: Vomiting. You have been warned.)

It was with great relief that Virgil finally wormed his way out of the debris stack he had been forced to crawl through. Something in the pile was messing with the sensors, and John was only 95 percent certain that the life sign was erroneous data, so physical recon had been needed.

It had taken longer than anticipated for the powerful scanner rig Virgil had worked into the heart of the former building to take and relay the necessary readings to John on Thunderbird Five, but his older spaceborne brother had finally declared the debris survivor-free.

Virgil tried not to think that that didn’t mean everybody had gotten out.

It had taken Virgil even longer to work his way back out of the debris pile, again lugging the scanner that seemed to grow even less portable with each passing minute.

Equally alarming was the rapidly diminishing O2 levels showing on his helmets HUD. The air was getting pretty stale by the time he finally worked himself free, and he founding himself panting for breath. It was with great relief when he was finally able to pull off his helmet and suck in great lungful’s of mercifully fresh oxygen.

If only that was all he’d sucked in.

He’d been so desperate for air, he’d breathed in open mouthed, and was only aware of the flies surrounding him one impacted the back of his throat.

The effect was instantaneous.

Virgil retched violently; gagging, coughing and spluttering, as his entire body rejected the invasion. From down near his feet, John’s alarmed voice emanated from his helmet, but Virgil was helpless to respond. His body rolled with nausea, great waves working up from the pit of his stomach to his mouth as he coughed and dry heaved helplessly. By the time Scott thundered to a stop beside him, he was doubled over and actually vomiting, acid watery bile splattering the ground and his boots, burning his throat and tongue on its way past.

He ignored the scanner as the yellow beam passed over him, and gradually got his body back under control as Scott stared, baffled, at the cheerful green readouts.

“Virg, what’s wrong?”

He couldn’t speak to answer, still gagging and spitting out alarming amounts of saliva as his stomach still occasionally roiled. He mimed ‘fly’, and hoped Scott understood.

Scott understood. At least partially. “Fly? Oh, you swallowed a fly!”

It was enough to set him off again. His throat closing up and the roiling and coughing intensified until his stomach ejected what precious little was left. Virgil noted with a kind of vague satisfaction that Scott hadn’t got out of the splatter zone in time, and his boots and legs were now liberally decorated with his former stomach contents.

“Oh. Yeah. Right.” Scott finally remembered. “Hit the spot, huh?”

Virgil glared, weakly, from where he was still doubled over, desperately trying to evict the sensation (and hopefully the invader) from his body.

Scott triggered his comms. “False alarm, John. Virgil … had a close encounter with local wildlife.”

“Local wildlife?” John was radiating anxiety from space. “What was it? Did it bite him? Does he need a hospital?”

And Scott, damn him, smirked. “Only if he decides to swallow a spider, a bird, a cat, a dog …”

“Huh?” The look of incomprehension on John’s face was comical, and Virgil would have enjoyed it if he wasn’t so focused on his desire to wipe that smirk of Scott’s face. And gagging.

“Oh!” John had reached enlightenment. “He swallowed a fly?”

Bastards! Virgil thought, as his body reacted involuntarily, going in for his third round of intense retching. His older brothers were definitely going to pay for this, and pay dearly.

Scott finally took pity on him, and dragged him back to the safety of Thunderbird Two, where Brain’s elaborate biosecurity measures meant the interior was blissfully insect-free.

As Virgil enthusiastically gargled and scrubbed at his teeth, trying to get rid of the phantom sensation. Scott watched him carefully, monitoring for signs of ‘relapse’. Virgil knew there was no way he was living this down.

“How’d it happen, Virg?” Scott asked carefully, trying to avoid setting off Virgil’s over-active disgust reaction.

Virgil glared. “How know how it had to have happened. I took my helmet off,” he growled.

Scott’s eyebrows disappeared into his hairline, like Thunderbird Three launching into space. “YOU took your helmet off? Mr Safety? Mr For-the-Hundredth-Time-Scott-Don’t-Take-Your-Helmet-Off? YOU took your helmet off?”

Virgil glared and keyed in the holographic readout on his gauntlet. The urgent red blinking ‘low oxygen’ alert hung in the air between them.

“Oh.” Scott’s eyebrows returned to their proper place. “Yeah. That’s a good reason.”

Virgil grunted.

Scott smirked. “Although we have just found reason one hundred and one to keep your helmet on!”

He darted out of the small bathroom with Virgil’s helmet in flying pursuit.

A week later, Brains found his laboratory meticulously cleared of his current project, and a proposed design adjustment for the ground-ops helmets sitting in its place. A handwritten note from Virgil read: ‘Urgent adjustment needed for ground-ops helmet. Require emergency air-intake and filtration. Proposed amendment for your immediate review.’

International Rescue’s chief engineer smiled. Virgil was accommodating Reason 101 to Wear Your Helmet, now officially enshrined in the ‘Big Book of Rescues’.

Virgil Tracy was never going to swallow a fly again.

Notes:

I.

HATE.

FLIES.

And yes, I have been known to throw up after inhaling a fly. It just hits THAT spot, and …

Gross.

The standard disclaimers, I do not own Thunderbirds, either the Original Series, the Movies (both Supermarionation and Live Action), or the Thunderbirds Are Go Series. (Although I do own copies on DVD.)

I do not do this for money, but for my own (in)sanity and entertainment.

[shadowpon]

“It was me, I told her to say that…” n said with a timid tone.

The shadowed human stared him down angrily, making n feel on edge.

“Sorry?” N added.

Slowly, the woman human sauntered over to him, still holding a disappointing glare. N backed up against a wall, pressing against it out of fear.

“I-if you want me to..umm..do more work then I’ll do it!” N called.

“You think you can go against my orders and demands?” The women asked angrily.

N gave a sheepish smile and giggle, waiting for the worst to happen.

“N-no ma’m I just think that it’s well…heh heh..” n giggled nervously, watching the women’s hand reach down towards him. “WELL I think that it’s wrong to put so much pressure on someone who did nothing wrong..”

“So you are against my orders and Demands?!” The woman scolded, aggressively prodding N’s side, as if showing aggression.

“W-Wait! I didn’t mehehehean that! Hahahaha” N cackled.

“And you think it’s funny?” The women protested.

“No! It’s just because you prided my side! I didn’t mean to laugh at you!” N tried holding back his giggling but a few managed to slip from his lips.

“AWWW!! N are you-“

“NO-“

The daughter of the woman started to admire aloud but N interrupted. The daughter then went over to N and started poking his side as if testing him.

“W-wahahahait! Don’t!”

The daughter ignored him and proceeded to aim for his sides and ribs. Scribbling over his sensor plates.

“HAHAHAHAHA, STOHOHOHOHOP HEHEHEHEHE!!”

“Awww n is a ticklish little bot~ so cute!!~” the daughter teased playfully.

“Stop this at once!” The women yelled.

The daughter kept her act on while talking.

“Come on mom, can’t you at least give a little fun for once?” The daughter pleaded.

“I SAID STOP!” The women demanded louder.

The daughter submitted and halted her tickling torment on N, who is now left in a melting giggling mess.

“Go and tie him outside! I don’t want him in my sight any longer!” The women added.

The daughter gave N an apologetic smile while poking his side for the last time.

“Sorry N..”

The daughter left, ashamed of herself. N was gonna pep talk her but was then grabbed by a guard and dragged all the way outside were he would rot.

(I know not a good ending but I still like this one a lot, I like that daughter honestly, one of favorite characters, still doesn’t beat N though lol. Hoped you loved or liked this!)

[atonalginger]

WIP Wednesday and Update to Stowaway Savior!

Today is another twofer day where you get a peek and also a major story update. The search section of Stowaway Savior is written and I'll be uploading it in chunks as I work on the final third.

The latest update is eight (8) chapters (once again they're shorter chapters) and you can find it on ao3 by clicking HERE!

If you want to start from chapter 1 you can click here!

for the WIP Wednesday preview I have a peek at chapter 14 with Cooper and Moonlight.

When Cooper returned with his uniforms and his militia issued electronics and suit he found Moonlight had crushed the radio in their metal hand and were in the process of picking apart the internals, snipping wires with a special attachment in their arm and snapping larger fiberglass pieces.

“Having fun there?” Cooper asked.

“My processes are not programed for fun,” Moonlight replied, “this object endangered my captain. I am simply ensuring it will no longer work and therefore no longer endanger anyone again.”

“You’re angry then,” Cooper walked over to the ramp controls and bumped it on with his elbow, “and before you say your processes aren’t programed for it I will say that don’t matter, what you are doing is a display of anger.”

The model-A stood still as the bay opened up, the ramp extending out for them to walk out onto the rocky dirt surface to discard the gear. Cooper could hear the optical sensors whirring again. When Moonlight spoke their voice was softer than it had been, “my database confirms your assessment. I am acting on anger. This is bad.”

“I didn’t say it was bad,” Cooper corrected, “you will want to be careful how you express your anger but the emotion itself isn’t bad.”

“I am a model-A robot designed by Lunar Robotics. Our processes are not designed for emotional displays.” Moonlight shuffled their body down the ramp alongside Cooper, “This display is a bug.”

“I disagree,” Cooper said as he tossed his gear under the landing gear thrusters, “I know another model-A like you, Whiz, and she shows plenty of emotions.”

“Whiz,” Moonlight repeated, “she is in pieces in the engineering office right now. She was insistent she be loaded into a ship. She was…scared.”

“Her captain is missing,” Cooper pointed to the pile while glancing to the broken radio, “I’ve had the pleasure of working with her in the field and she takes her role seriously.”

“Yes,” Moonlight tossed the chunks of radio in a stiff mimicry of Cooper’s actions, “my database holds records of her work. Zeke gave me her history to better prepare me for this mission.”

“That’s probably where you learned anger then,” Cooper offered a smile and motioned for them follow him back onto the ship, “just make sure you don’t take out your anger on living organisms and equipment that still has use. And the ship, don’t hurt my ship.”

“Of course, Captain…er,” Moonlight’s voice hitched and a weird mechanical noise rumbled out of the chassis, something Cooper suspected was close to a clearing of a throat, “Rodeo.”

“It’s okay,” Cooper assured his robot, “won’t worry too much on it. Let’s get moving so we can scan this planet. This is going to be a long one.”

“Yes, Captain Rodeo,” Moonlight said.

Cooper turned to look at the model-A as the loading bay closed, swearing to himself that the robot used an ornery tone. As he studied Moonlight he thought for a moment he saw a glint in one of the optical sensors.

Cheeky bastard.

[fallout4-reacts]

how would companions react to sole who still sees feral ghouls as human, giving them names, knitting them hats, etc, and somehow managing to just casually 'hang out' with them?

Phew, I ended up having time to take care of it. I’m sorry about the delay, but I had a lot of stuff to deal with IRL so uh… I hope you’ll like it

I admit that I put the reactions (accept it or not) at random, knowing that in the game, the acceptance of the bullshit that Sole can do depends entirely on the level of affinity (except when we talk about atrocities in some cases, and still…)

Note : Aaaaaaaah I just realise it was Lucy who was killed by ghouls, Deacon's wife was by his former gang.... .... how could I'll be so out of track... sorry

But to be honest I'm actually working on a hard ask and I will not change anything

Maybe later if really it's bother someone

Cait : She sees a swarm of ghouls approaching Sole and knows exactly what to do. She grabs her baseball bat with both hands and swings as hard as she can at the first skull that comes her way. The person who hauled her out of the cage starts screaming hysterically.

"No way, Cait! Don't harm Ralf! He's only bringing me some ammunition because he saw a deathclaw nearby and wants to protect me."

Bat halfway through the air, Cait glances at Sole like they're some kind of alien.

"You're right now fucking with me. This ghoul is chomping on your arm."

"At all! It's his way of saying hello! If you want, a swap."

"However, he trades a piece of your flesh for a purulent scar."

"Aaaah. It's because I'm mistaken. It's Edith, not Ralf. She's having difficulties holding back, you know?"

"What about those?"

"They also have a hard time holding back."

"I'm not the brightest person on the circuit, but I recognise a feral attack when I see one. They'll bleed you to death."

"No, they just like small bites."

Cait tosses her bat to the ground and walks away.

"I don't even want to be a part of it. Tommy is better than any Fred or Edith."

"Ralf-ouch!"

Codsworth : "Uh, madam/sir, I'm not sure that's such a good idea."

"Come on, Codsworth, Mr. Trellaway, adoooooore your tea. Please do more."

"But what will Mr. Preston say when he finds, uh... Mr. Trellaway in the living room?"

The poor robot is at a loss for words. Indeed, the ghoule does not appear very hostile; he is busy gnawing on the leather strap that Sole gave him to chew on, but the companions have undoubtedly warned him of the dangers of a ghoul going feral. He can't help but think his master/mistress is a little... naive in their approach to the predator.

"Preston may chomp while discovering our guest, but I promised him your famous tea, and he will have it!"

Codsworth, a little frightened, lights the kettle on fire. He hears a stifled pain scream in the brief moment when at least one of his three sensors is not on Sole.

"Mr. Trellaway, please! That is beneath you!"

The poor robot then worries if the radiation did not eventually overcome his master/mistress' intelligence.

Curie : Curie can't help but be astonished. She can't fight with Sole on this one any longer. Still, it was a dangerous decision. She follows Sole and their new companion to the Red Rocket.

"Farkesh" 

"I'll be honest with you, Farkesh; I still haven't figured out what Strong means by this stuff, but if it rings any bells," Sole shrugs their shoulders as if it were a minor detail. The ghoul next to them appears irritated.

"Farkesh!"

"There's no doubt about that, Farkesh. Oh! Look! Other friends! Are we going to greet them?"

Curie suppresses a shiver of horror as she witnesses the base being overrun by super-mutants.

"S-s-s-Sole, I don't think you should make more than one friend at a time; that's disrespectful to Farkesh!"

Sole appears to stop and think, then shrugs again.

"You are correct. Anyway, I can't wait to show this one to Strong! He'll be less lonely."

As they walk away, the poor synthetic sighs with relief. She truly wonders how Sole has survived so long in such a state of denial, but every day suffices is irradiated.

Danse (Post-BB) : "This is regarded as insubordination!"

"This is an act of inhumanity on your part!"

"It is precisely humanity's duty to put an end to their suffering!"

"Who says they are suffering?"

"These are creatures with tortured brains!"

"So they're not that different from you!"

Danse's eyes widen in surprise at the insult... That's a touch too close to the mark. He scowls again, taking off the whisky bottle (now empty on the ground) that Sole had given them.

"And they're not attacking you?"

"What would make them attack me? They attack to defend themselves against fools like you who forget they're people."

The blow is delivered once more with force. Danse has to recognise that, for his part, he is not human. He groans as he lowers its head.

"You just squandered a decent bottle of whisky," he grumbles through his beard.

"They have fun, so nothing is wasted."

Danse sighs and crashes on a trunk near one of the ghouls with particularly unpleasant breath.

"This one should brush his teeth more often."

Deacon : "WOH!"

What else is there to say? Deacon enters the barracks and finds Sole engaged in a conversation with three ghouls (who are snarling) over a pair of needles and balls of yarn. To say he was not anticipating it would be an understatement.

"What?!"

"No, no, no!" says Sole.

One of the clawed hands is slapped by Sole.

"It has a loop on it and one on the bottom. Not..." They scrape the previously completed work in a motion reminiscent of the hideous creature. "Do you want to wear this hat or not?"

"Grmgkmomrf"

"I...this is a bad time?" Deacon then inquires, having recovered from his surprise.

"Not at all," his pal responds, smiling. "Would you like to learn to knit as well?"

The Railway agent shifts his gaze from one ghoul to the next, attempting to overlook the numerous scratches and bites on Sole's arms and face.

"I'll pass; I'm already an excellent knitter.  Did I ever tell you about the occasion when I knitted an illusory brick wall to protect Glory and me from Courser's troops? I crocheted so quickly and so forcefully that the wall became permanent."

Sole is overjoyed. Knowing how Barbara died, they had honestly assumed that Deacon would be the one of their companions who would reject their vision of their irradiated friends the most, but he appears to have underestimated him. In reality, Deacon is not so bitter. He blames himself for failing to defend Barbara, but Sole who can befriend a ghouli? There will be plenty of stories to tell at HQ.

Dogmeat : Cocking his head to the side, Dogmeat looks at his new companion with interest, but as he comes to sniff him, the being that act like a human but has a peculiar demeanor growls like an animal. Dogmeat retreating and whine.

"Come on, my good boy," his master encourages. "Jerome has a dog allergy, but he will not harm you."

When his owner reprimands him, Dogmeat goes even further, his tail between his legs. He prefers not to offend his beloved master, but if the new human-strange continues to bite his master, Dogmeat will show him who has the biggest fangs.

Elder Maxson : Shoot on the spot. Every time Maxson kills one of their new pals, Sole moans for days about it, but Maxson doesn't give a damn about their complaints.

"The guidelines are very clear, and the abominations must be carried out."

"You decide how things work!"

"I sometimes doubt your common sense."

"If you can't respect my guests, then you should stay on your ship!"

"These-are-abominations!"

"Have you taken a look at yourself in the mirror lately?"

"DISMISS!"

If sole insists, they will end up at the Cambridge Prison.

Hancock : When it's his turn, he snatches the bottle of whisky from the other ghouls. There is not even a drop remaining. These other ghouls are completely devoid of common sense. Handock groans and then draws an inhaler of Jet.

"So, Freddy, how did Sole meet you?"

In his efforts to get the most out of this wild evening, he pays no attention to the quarrel that is going on between Danse and Sole. When Danse is compelled to lie down among them after being defeated, Sole brings out a fresh bottle of their renowned whisky, and Hancock makes it a point to be the first one to get his hands on it.

Gage : Take aim and fire. As Sole crashes on him, they grabs his arm to prevent another shoot.

“MARLEY! HOW DARE YOU!”

“What? Boss? You may have taken in too much of this gas, I fear.

"When Oswald took a short break, I supervised Marley. How am I going to explain that?”

"It was a ghoul!"

"He was my friend!"

For a while, Porter observes the motionless walking corpse with extreme caution.

"I strongly disapprove of this...distraction."

"So, you want me to secure the park, okay, but how was Marley threatening you?"

"That thing looks like a feral ghoul!"

"He didn't harm you at all! He was not as dangerous as Nisha!

Even as Porter tries to deny it, he has to admit that they're probably right, but he can't just abandon the ghoul-infested section of the park, right?

"This park is mine! I’m the Overboss and I do what I want!”

"And who nominated you?"

"The one who just robbed me of the most incredible mutfruit pie recipe in the Commonwealth by murdering the chef who created it."

"I'll show you what you should do with a mutfruit."

But Porter doesn't get the chance for a while, because Sole mopes around for weeks after the "murder" and doesn't want to talk to him. Sole no longer causes problems inside Nuka-World after Oswald and his companions decide to leave the park, although Porter also chooses to skip over the occasional story Shank gives him about wild nights in some Commonwealth bauge.

MacCready : No. No, seriously. MacCready comes at the boathouse, finds the three ghouls relaxing happily with Sole around a chess game (which appears to be a real piece toss), then turns his back on the scene and leaves. With this new employment, he's seen green ones and ripe ones, but truly, companion of feral ghouls? And how will he acquire his son's meds if...wait a minute. He opens the door and peers into the place.

"Can you be friends with any ghoule?"

"First and foremost, Mac, they are human beings."

"We can talk about it later, but... hm... are you interested in doing something for me?"

Nick Valentine : "Be careful," he provides Sole as they pass into the Fens. "There are a lot of wild ghouls around."

"Are you referring to Jerry and his gang? They enjoy a good laugh now and then, but their jokes are never too serious."

"Please excuse me?"

Valentine turns to Sole, as he is unsure whether or not his hearing sensor picked up the correct information.

"Miska, Jerry, Samuel, and Prince. They're on the next street over. They occasionally take an arm or two or a few arrogant stiffs, but it's nothing to worry about. They're merely pranksters."

Nick rubs his chin, pondering the new one. He'd seen his fair share of fools in the corner, but this one appears to be an outlier.

"You know what a feral is?"

"A human whose brain radiation makes oral communication very difficult."

"It's... a way of putting things. However, it's not only spoken communication that is challenging."

"Yes, I know, they have bad coordination, but have you ever seen Paul Pembrooke after a night of partying at the Dugout?"

“Currently…yes.”

"Same shit."

"Let me, haha...understand. For you, a feral is a human who is horrible cook?"

“Isn’t that it?”

Nick sighs and shrugs his shoulders. This poor vaultie will have plenty of time to realise their error. In the meantime, he can't wait to get to his office in Diamond City and forget about Malone altogether.

Piper : "Hehe, Charlie! Yes! Yes, fantastic!"

Piper takes a hesitant step back towards the door, determined to leave the house without losing a single piece. Sole looks up at her, happily smiling.

"He does, and he enjoys your articles! He's also a talented poet; do you want to see his latest work?"

While the monster quietly chews a baseball, the journalist swallows slowly, her gaze fixed on the ghoul.

"You know what? You'll deliver all of this to me at the Puclick Occurrency. I'll gladly read them, and I'll even offer you some old newspapers to give to your friend. But I...really need to get going. I have... a friend on fire, and, oh..."

"A friend on fire? Piper, you're so funny."

"Yes, eheh," Piper chuckles. "I am a true clown. It's all me! Anyway, bye!"

She rushes out of there without looking back, only to run into a frightened Preston in the street.

"Hey, Garvey!"

"Piper."

"Did you... come to see Sole?"

"I...think she already has a...guest."

"Eh, indeed."

"Truly, truly..."

Piper approaches, peering over her shoulder.

"Do you think... something burned on the balcony?"

The Minutemen sigh deeply, letting go of the mask.

"I think the entire attic turned to dust."

Preston : "General, I've heard of..."

When he sees Sole seated on their couch, sharing a plate of Fancy Lads Snack Cake over a cup of tea with... a ghoule whose pieces aren't even in position to savour the taste of the miniature cookies, his voice dies on his lips. The colonel's sight passes Codsworth's visual sensor, who raises his appendages and brings two cups of tea into the living room.

"General?"

"Ah! Preston! Come on in! Come see Mr. Trellaway! I told him about some of our exploits, and he enjoyed them. I'm sure he'll be overjoyed if he hears from you."

The unfortunate man finds himself taking a step back.

"General, it's a feral!"

"Rah, insults and racism right away. Preston, you've surprised me. I'm a little disappointed. Get this poor Preston a cup of tea, Codsworth. We'll return some sanity to his mind."

Preston takes another step back, wondering whether it's Sole who needs to regain control of their own mind.

"I... no thanks. I'm going on my tour. But, uh... General, when your... visitor departs, please come and see me. A settlement requires assistance."

"But please sit down and tell me all about it!"

"No, don't be insistent. It's... Sturges calling!"

The colonel sprints outdoors, his heart racing. For the thousandth time in a month, he wonders what he was thinking when he was made Sole General.

Strong : "Puny human stupid."

"Strong!"

"Stupid rotten human. Puny human stupid. Strong goes"

"Strong, attentions!"

"Puny human want Strong hit them?"

"No… But hold on. You're disrespecting my guests."

The super-mutant growls at the few feral ghouls gathered around the fire before turning his heels. He will have to seek out the milk of human kindness on his own. A human who becomes friends with ferals will never be able to get close to it.

X6-88 : Shoot on sight. The Courser, although Sole arguing for hours, does not bend, respond, or comment. When Sole encounters another wild pack, X6 eliminates them all until Sole finishes saluting them. When Sole became enraged, X6 seized their arms and transferred them to the Institute.

"Father, your... parent has a difficult time differentiating between humans and dangerous entities. Before returning them to the surface, I strongly suggest that you submit them to a battery of medical exams."

Sole fights, debates, and tries everything, but after explanations, Shaun agrees with X6. They put them through so many tests that Sole has more time to think things through than he needs to. When they eventually get their leave, they swear not to hang out with X6 when they travel to see their buddies.

[gale-gentlepenguin]

Gale Reviews: ML Season 5 episode 15 Intuition

Spoilers below (And we are finally all caught up so the episodes can be watched in order from 1 to 20th

-Glaciator again?

-DID HE GET BEAT BY A GIANT BELL AND FIRE CRACKERS?

-Wait is this Elation?

-Oh he is using the snake to guide his akuma. That is clever. But with that ability he should be able to win

-WAIT the lucky charm changed! OH SNAP! THE lucky charm changes to be exactly what is needed for the situation. So even with the snake miraculous... IT GETS HARD COUNTERED BY THE LADYBUG!

-I WAS RIGHT! IT IS ELATION! ... Why would he choose the ice cream man of ALL People though. Granted I love Elation so I wont complain

-So Gabriel realizes that the snake wont work against Lucky charm.

-So I really like how it is show all the OTHER ways the akuma got beaten. Implying that Gabriel was using the snake to advise his akuma in the most optimal way.

-So if it isnt lucky charm that stops him, its Chat noir's unpredicatability. Or... BAD LUCK

-So it confirmed that the user doesnt get rewinded by the time shift. MEANING. When Adrien used the rewind 25,913 times. Which means Adrien spent at most 3 months time doing that. So Adrien is 3 months older than he should be

-Gabriel has a weird ass heartbeat from cataclysm. So he has accelerated his death basically. AWESOME.

-Damn so Gabriel has only a few weeks left at most and Nathalie isnt fairing much better. Nathalie is telling him they need to think of a way that Adrien wont be left on his own when they die.

-For once, I almost pity him. Mainly cause Nathalie is there to make him TRY and change.

-Marinette is so adorkable.

-Gabriel is litterally dying right behind adrien and the boy is to engrossed by his cute girl friend to notice. Maybe he really is Gabriel's son XD

-It took him falling for him to actually hang up. I know I should feel bad... BUT its gabriel.

-Gabriel using the miraculous like a junkie.

-He is using the snake to talk with Tomoe to convince her. TRUELY he is sacrificing everything

-SHE CAN HEAR HIS WEIRD HEARTBEAT!? Well i guess the lesson is HONESTY is what is needed when you want to make an evil scheme

-You already know this is going to become f***ing horrible because they are livestreaming a space launch.

-Huh... lila isnt there. How weird.

-ADA! Adorable. Markov has a little sister AI. Cant wait to see her get akumatized

-Kim your your dumbassery is no longer charming to me.

-Gabriel jealous of Ms.Kante's healthy heart.

-She is so cool.

-Oh no! He just removed the sensors so she cant sense her.

-Monarch you evil bastard.

-Ada got depressed

-Markov in the french dub is adorable

-Monarch is preping for war right now.

-He made an ASTEROID!

-What is he doing!?

-Okay see, this is devious. I like this plan.

-Adrien saw an opportunity to be a good boy friend AND get out of class. That is Prime behavior

-Monarch knew they would split up

-He akumatizes his SECOND ai

-OH that looks so slick! its a giant robot!

-OH DAMN! he trapped her in space!

-Wait... if the miraculous gets removed.... OH S***! SHE GONNA DIE

-Oh damn!

-He timed it right this time.

-Chat noir you absolute TROLL! He used the second chance against him by grabbing his ring hand.

-Well now chat noir is gonna get stunned! Oh no!

-Monarch was too hyperfocused on Chat noir to come up with a convincing lie, Thus bugfighter learned the truth.

-Monarch didnt think this through. How many restarts is it now

-He couldnt think of a successful idea and had to give up.

-So he collapsed and Nathalie found him.

-Gabriel told Adrien he would try and spend more time with him it would be sweet if I didnt know it was a LIE

-Ladybug asking chat noir if its weird Monarch never uses Second chance... while Chat noir is like "We lucky he doesnt."

______________________________________________________________

I think if there was an episode that would make me feel sympathy for Gabriel... it would be this one. Too bad I still dont.

Its a solid episode, explaining the actual negatives of the snake miraculous in his condition. Gabriel so desperate to win that he failed to see the obvious solution.

He is so obsessed with the miraculous he is like a drug addict unable to stop his addiction.

8.5/10.

I think this is the best episode I have seen in terms of writing on the later half of season 5 so far.