#and they themselves are innocent - as well as their parents technically

[ailurocide]

Sorry for not remembering, but who are the parents of Mistle, Myrtle and Mallow?

I really like how they all start with 'm'.

No worries! A lot of stuff has changed with the move, including some family trees! It’s better to ask rather than assume and confuse yourself later on ^^’

Their parents are Frost-tongue and Larchface!

[princessbrunette]

HOLD ME, KISS ME ♡

♪ the little dippers — forever ♪

WANTED: JOHN BOOKER ROUTLEDGE - SUSPECTED MURDER - $1000 REWARD - DANGEROUS! IF SPOTTED DO NOT APPROACH!

pairing: outlaw!johnb + sheltered!reader ⋆₊⊹♡

synopsis: your wishes come true when a beautiful boy is found sleeping peacefully in your barn. much to his surprise, you don’t care about who he is or what he has or hasn’t done — you just want to ensure he stays forever.

cw: mentions of prayer, religion and god (for plot purpose) reader has two parents, western!au, innocence kink, slight manipulation, mentions of crime, breeding kink, smut ♡

“Please deliver me a man, save me from this loneliness. Make him kind, and strong, and handsome. I vow to make him the happiest man alive.”

Your forehead rests against your clasped hands where you kneel beside your bed, speaking out loud as there was no one else to speak to. Your parents had gone on a trip for two weeks, leaving you in charge of the farmhouse all by your lonesome.

Isolated didn’t feel like the correct term. You were grateful, happy to live off the fat of your father’s land in the middle of nowhere, but sometimes you wished you had someone to share it with. Someone your own age who was there to see you. You had become the perfect host, thrilled when your parents would bring home guests once in a blue moon. You’d tie ribbons in your hair and pick the perfect dress and set the table like your mother taught you. You often imagined setting the table for a family of your own.

Your own farm house. The thought sent you off to sleep each night, walking through the home in your mind as if it were really real, feeling the creaking of the painted wooden porch beneath your feet as you enter, the distant cooing of your baby being comforted by your husband in the next room. White shabby-chic panels across the walls with oak furniture and knitted throw pillows and lots and lots of warm light. The kitchen table would have the perfect lace floral embroidered table cloth draped across it which you’d serve the heartiest dinners on each night. The babies room would be painted mint green, no— maybe pastel yellow, with handmade toys and a music box that played your song and oh, the master bedroom… where you and your husband rest your head would be flooded with natural light. A haven. All yours.

The details to the decoration often changed, new inspiration plucked from the papers that father would bring home and new favourite colours integrating themselves into your home plans but one thing remained the same each time. Your husband. He never had a face, but it wasn’t important. He was warm, strong without having to prove just how macho he was, kind— you could feel his love from the next room on. That was all you really wanted. You could forget the house, forget the land, live in a barn for all you care — you just wanted to experience a love like the ones in the fairytale books stacked high in your room.

It had been a week already of this routine you’d grown used to. You wake up, feed yourself and then the chickens, come inside, clean yourself and then the house, paint, crotchet or read — however the mood takes you, eat lunch, tend to the crops, brush the horses, maybe milk a cow, come inside and cook dinner, bathe, think about your dream husband and grind your wet messy cunt into a pillow, feel guilty, beg for forgiveness and then sleep. It was an easy life, and you couldn’t complain— but you couldn’t help feel the world had more to offer.

Your mother often told you that gifts from above come when you least expect it, you just had to keep your eyes open. You always wondered how one might find these gifts with no idea where to look.

Your gift arrived bright and early the next morning.

Well, not technically as early as it should have been, infact you probably nearly missed it. The roosters calls at 6AM each morning, but on that very day you had decided to sleep in. A few hours wouldn’t kill them, you think as you pull a plush white pillow to lay over your ear— it’s not like the chickens would starve.

At 11:45AM, you stumble bare foot onto the grass outside, setting out on your walk to the barn a little way up the land. Your pert nipples harden, awakened by the cool morning breeze as the thin white fabric of your nightdress blows in the wind. With the sunlight shining directly on it, it was sure to be totally and utterly see through— and you suppose that was one upside to living in the middle of nowhere, yards upon yards from civilisation. No one would see you. Sigh.

You feed the chickens, totally blind before it even occurs to you that anything might be astray. Infact, you don’t even seem to notice that the barn door was left ajar, as opposed to how you usually leave it bolted by a wooden slab to prevent the animals from wandering off or being massacred by foxes. You suppose that’s the price you pay for sleeping in, you live in dreamworld for the next few hours.

The Earth seems to stop turning for a moment when you see him.

You’re more curious than anything, wide eyed, holding your breath as to be totally silent despite having been humming and speaking to the chickens only a moment prior. You tiptoe through the hay, shards of straw sprouting between your painted toes and pin-needling your sole as you draw closer to the man. A fallen angel, your first thought.

He’s half curled up onto his side in the hay behind the stable for your white pony. He has thick-ish arms crossed over his chest, his hat laying over his face seeming to be serving as a purpose to block out the light. You figure as you hadn’t woken up him before, a closer inspection couldn’t hurt. Unhurriedly, you sink down into a squat beside him, knees pointed upwards and feet taking your balance. A real man, in your barn? It couldn’t be. You chew on your bottom lip, goggle-eyed and inquisitive as you cautiously lift the hat away from his face.

He doesn’t wake and you’re for some reason thankful. It gives you time to observe him, the breath all but knocked from your body as you take in just how beautiful he is. He was perfect, and just like what you were hoping for when you wished to be delivered a husband.

Dark eyelashes kissing at the rim of his closed eyes, pale lips and freckles, sunkissed across his nose. Your eyes trail over and across him, now with his face in mind taking in account what he looks like as a whole. You were still in disbelief, a real man sleeping in your barn. But then again, as your eyes skim lower and you notice the blood seeping through his shirt over his stomach — you wonder if he was sleeping. Surely he wasn’t dead? Only God could be so cruel to deliver you the perfect man without a pulse.

So, you press two cold fingers to his neck, searching for the rhythmic beats signifying life. As soon as you do so, the man jolts awake — wide brown eyes meeting yours.

“Jesus.”

This is where the stare off commences— you were sat in a squat giving him a straight shot up your night dress with dome like eyes and parted lips, observing him like he was some sort of alien life form that had happened upon your barn infront of your very eyes. Your chest rises and falls, and his gender fails to betray him as his eyes fall there for a moment, subconsciously noticing the way your bare tits strain against the thin fabric with each exhale. Somewhere in the back of his mind he can’t help but acknowledge that you’re a pretty thing, totally his type. In any other scenario, he might’ve seen you at a local tavern and introduced himself, getting you tipsy and loose, making you giggle beneath his soft gaze and coarse hands in some dimly lit booth before realising he’s far too respectful to take advantage of you like that.

With his eyes open, the picture is complete — and he truly is as beautiful as you thought. He had a puppy like quality to his eyes, they were big and brown but from the sunlight streaming in you could see specks of orange which intrigues you. You wish to look closer, but you feel it’s not the time. His adam’s apple bobs with a thick swallow and he tears his eyes away from yours to look around, still disorientated from sleep. He touches his wound with gentle fingers and he winces, going to push himself up on his elbows.

You open your mouth to speak but he beats you to it, warm deep voice raspy from rest as he dives into a sequence of begging.

“Does anyone know I’m in here?”

“No, I—”

“Okay, that’s— okay, please — hey, please don’t tell anyone. I won’t lie to you, I’m in a little bit of trouble with the law, nothing super bad I swear just — I needed somewhere safe to sleep so I ended up here. Didn’t take anything and uh— and I’ll be out of your hair now that I’m up.” He rambles, continually glancing at the barn doors, expecting Sheriff Shoupe to bust them down and take him in at any moments notice. You say nothing for a moment and he pushes himself to his feet, eyes squeezing shut at the soreness of his injury. “Think it’s easiest if I just—”

He cuts himself off this time, because you slip your hand into his— stopping him from going anywhere. His eyebrows jump up and he freezes on the spot, staring down at your doe eyes with a wide and confused gaze of his own.

“…Hi?”

“You just got here? Why’d you have to go?” You sound sad, and he actually can’t believe what he’s hearing. Not only did he break into your barn, on private land — but he’d totally overstayed his non-existent welcome, and now you didn’t want him to leave?

“P—pardon me? Ma’am?” He tries to be respectful, when what he really wants to ask is along the lines of ‘What the fuck?’.

You scramble to stand up and he helps you using the hand that you’re grasping. “Well, you won’t get far with a wound like that. It could get infected. Maybe you could come inside, let me dress it. You can refuel… maybe stay a few days?” The last part sounds wrong coming from your mouth. He’s a stranger for goodness sake— everything your parents had taught you about safety went against this and plus you were practically begging. You might have been embarrassed, if there wasn’t such a nagging feeling in your stomach telling you that this was meant to be.

He scoffs out a chuckle, because he thinks there’s no way you’re serious— but when he sees your wide eyes bouncing between his own, searching for something he couldn’t quite put a finger on— he realises you’re being completely genuine and his expression melts into a more worried gaze, shuffling a little closer on his feet.

“Look, I really appreciate your hospitality, but you have done more than enough, really. Just the fact you didn’t have the sheriff busting in to drag me away is something I will be very grateful for. Believe me. But I can’t drag you into this. Anyway, don’t you have family? That you live with?”

You sigh, looking down at your intertwined hands that you had yet to release, staring as if you were trying to memorise the feeling of a man’s touch incase you really couldn’t convince him to stay.

“Well yes, but they’re on a trip you see — and they’re going to be away for another week and I’m not sure how much more I can take. I’m awfully lonely, and I know you’re a stranger and all but I could really use the extra set of hands… plus it’s the least you could do… for breaking in…” You feel you’re pushing it with that last part, but decide to proceed with it anyway, any means necessary to get him to stay. He bites his bottom lip in thought as you stare up through your lashes and he thinks screw it. He’s sure you’re not setting him up, a little thing like you would be far too weak to pull that off.

“Okay, I… don’t see why not then.” He doesn’t sound certain, but you make such a good offer he’d be a fool not to accept. He bends down and swoops his hat off the floor, holding it to his chest and you take his hand once more, guiding him out of the barn.

He presses his lips together in an awkward smile at the way you confidently lead him, almost having to break into a jog to match your eager pace. Once nearing the house, you tell him your name and he nods — taking in the scenery.

You’re sitting him down in the living room before he can blink, and he takes in the setting around him. A real cozy place, a family home for sure — with a pale blue couch, a scratchy patchwork blanket draped over the back and floral cushions. There’s photos of you in multiple spots around the room, an only child — he gathers. The main photo sits on the mantelpiece, framed, a set of parents curtaining your smiling face in the image. You seem to be a few years younger, fuller in the face, still cute as a button.

He doesn’t quite realise you’d gone anywhere until you’re returning — the contents of an old first aid box rumbling in your grip. You give him a reassuring smile and lower to kneel by his feet, opening up the container and fishing around for some cotton pads.

“Do you have a name, mister?”

He clears his throat, trying to gage your reaction once he speaks, attempting to work out if the name rings any bells. “Uh, yeah. John B. John B. Routledge. You might’ve… actually heard of me. If you have, uh— I’m sorry.”

You don’t seem to react in any kind of alarming way, a smile grazing your face as you pour rubbing alcohol onto a soft white pad.

“Heard of you how? Are you famous?”

“…You’ve never seen those big ‘Wanted’ posters up in town? Kinda got my picture up on one of them.”

You peel up his shirt revealing tanned, toned skin and a wound that had crusted over with blood. You press the pad to it and he winces, knuckles turning white in his lap and head lulling back against the seat for a moment.

“Sorry.” You furrow your brows apologetically before continuing to mop up all the dried blood. “Oh, and I’m not allowed up in town. Not by myself anyway. So, I don’t keep up to date with all that… stuff.” You pull away, rifling through the box for another clean pad. He nods, eyes jumping to look at his wound and then back to you, watching your face for any discomfort regarding his presence. Oddly, there was none. If it wasn’t clear before, it’s wildly apparent now that you’ve truly been sheltered your whole life. There was this innocence you carried that was hard to come by, a lack of judgement that was sweet but made him worry for you slightly. You were lucky he had a good heart.

“That’s… probably for the best, actually. You know, they like to tell lies. I’m being falsely accused.” He speaks a little slower, and enunciates the last part as if you might not understand, and as expected— you hang onto every word, lips a little parted and wide eyed. It’s pretty cute, albeit inappropriate considering he’s a stranger.

As he speaks, you wrap his wound, pressing the sticky part down onto his skin before gently pressing the cotton covering his injury. “Well I’m really sorry about that John B. You don’t have to worry about that anymore.” You chirp, before leaning forward and pressing a soft kiss over the dressing, pulling back to offer him a sweet smile. The lines on John B’s forehead smooth out, his concerned expression melting into his own gentle smile of disbelief.

He wonders what the odds are that he’d stumbled upon a real life angel. Well, it was that — or you wanted to chop his body into tiny pieces whilst he slept and add it to your cauldron. He couldn’t quite figure it out yet, but you were pretty — and he was a total loverboy, so stupidly he was willing to take that risk.

He pulls his shirt back down over his now dressed wound and you begin to clear your things back into the first aid box.

“Is there anything I can do for you? Like, anything you need help with around here?” He offers and you look up at him, brows furrowing with adoration.

“Goodness, no— I couldn’t ask that of you.”

“Said you needed an extra pair of hands earlier.” He challenges with a smile.

“I only said that to get you to come inside. With your injury, I couldn’t possibly put you to work.”

He scrunches his face a little with a half scoff, half smile and shrugs one shoulder. “Please, this thing? It barely even stings. Come oooon.” He croons with a smirk, and you really feel the full effects of his charm now— the warm timbre of his voice headed straight to your clit giving it a heartbeat of its own.

“Fine.” It comes out airy with a giddy smile and you take his hand yet again, almost getting distracted by the coarseness against your palm, the sight of bulging veins along the backs of them.

Your bare feet are treading lightly over soft wood chip once more as you lead him toward the destroyed fence round the left side perimeter of the farm.

“So… I suppose you could carry all the planks back from the fence that fell down in that awful storm last week. I was gonna wait for my daddy to get home to get him to do it ‘cus I’m much too weak for something like that.” You point, and John B’s brown fluffy head follows your finger to the destination at hand. He nods, a doable task.

“Well a girl like you shouldn’t be lifting a finger anyway.” He turns his head back to face you with a smile, eyes squinted in the sun. He looks radiant, no sign of pain anymore and you look down at your night gown, scrunching it in your clammy hands with an uncontrollable grin at the floor, harbouring such an innocent crush on the boy already that you didn’t know what to do with yourself.

His gaze stays on you for a tick whilst you step quietly and he speaks up again, tilting his head a little inquisitively. “I really, really hope this doesn’t sound rude… ‘cus I don’t mean to be. But… are you not… married?” He trails off, thinking of all the times he’s been walloped round the head in taverns for asking questions of a similar nature. Your smile doesn’t go away, your gentle nature not retiring for a moment.

“Oh no, no. I don’t meet boys often. Thats why I’m happy you came!” You chirp, hand reaching out to softly squeeze his arm. “Can be like husband and wife whilst you stay round.”

He just laughs in response. Not necessarily in a mean way, but the same way you laugh when a child tells you they’re going to be an astronaut when they grow up.

The brutal beating of the sun does nothing to stop the honest work you’d put the self proclaimed outlaw up to, he seems to be deep in thought often — carrying the planks to and fro. You slip inside for a while to change into something more appropriate, a sweet and floral sundress that ties up at the straps and hugs you in a more womanly way. You’d rubbed your lips together as you fixed your hair in the mirror before bringing him a sandwich in the early afternoon. “You are adorable.” He grins when you do so, and it wasn’t quite the reaction you’d hoped for on your dress but it still made you warm in the face. He simply brought out a true primal bodily reaction from you— that’s why you’d skipped the panties under your dress. He was making you excited and slippery down there and you just didn’t see the point. You stay out for hours at a time to chat with him. Your affections grow.

John B. Routledge finally returns back to the house when he’s all finished and you let him lay down for a nap on your couch, finally getting some real rest in. Whilst he does so, you spend hours preparing a hearty meal — the type you reserve for when mama and papa have guests round. As the pie browns off just a moment longer in the oven, you come to the man’s side, kneeling beside him and stroking his fluffy hair back.

“I made dinner. Sure you’re really hungry.” You whisper and his eyes flutter once more, the arms that were crossed over his chest stretching out as he wakes. You sit back to give him space, and when he opens his eyes you’re there with a smile — the orange beam of sunset haloing your head. Something about an angel drafts through his mind once more and he stretches.

“Oh boy, I slept longer than I was meant to huh?” He sits up and you shrug, leading him through to the kitchen where you’d laid the round table. Steaming seasoned vegetables in a bowl, freshly picked by you. Warm bread, baked and scored by you with flowers the centrepiece of the table. A jug of gravy there too. There’s a tray of mashed potatoes waiting, creamy and delicious looking. Routledges stomach audibly growls and he chuckles at this as he sits down, taking in the scenery you’d laid out. “You… have spoiled me. All this for someone who breaks into your barn?” He chuckles as he lowers himself into the seat.

You follow him round the table with a giddy smile. “Told you I like havin’ guests.” You perch your bottom on his leg, an arm wrapped around his neck as your feet swing. It felt right. You’d always wanted to sit with a man this way, you’d seen it before in the picture shows. Man and wife, domestic bliss. His brows jump up and he clears his throat awkwardly.

“Oh… sweetheart, you shouldn’t do that. I am a— a stranger, after all.” He tries to do the responsible thing, even though there was something about your innocent brashness that was turning him on beyond belief. Your eyebrows knit in the centre, a line between them and your bottom lip seems to have doubled in size from how it pushes out.

“But I like you?” You mewl, rejected. It all seems so simple to you, which is probably feels super unfair. No one had taught you how to address men because you were so sheltered, and now it was giving you all of these complicated feelings that John B would have to deal with.

“And I like you — a whole bunch. You know I’m super grateful for you taking me in and… all that good stuff. But sitting right here is gonna… make me excited. Because I’m a guy. Go ahead and hop off for me.” He taps your lower back gently and you huff, feeling upset and rejected about the whole thing. His eyes are all wide and hopeful as he stares at you, like he wanted to make sure you were okay. The way he handles you so sweetly made your stomach stir despite your current mope.

You drag your feet to the oven comically and he stifles a chuckle at how dramatic you were, despite his sympathy. You place your hands into oven gloves and take out the pie— perfect and golden. You walk it to the table and John B sits up a little straighter, eyes darting between you and the food.

“Did this all by yourself? You have got a real knack for cooking. Should put you on the TV.” He grins, switching on the charm to attempt to loosen up your silent sulk. You nod, eyes casted down childishly and he reaches out to touch your arm. “Thank you, pretty girl.”

A small smile slips out, and he flickers his eyes over to the heart shape you’d scored onto the pie, his own lips twitching up into a smirk. “That for me?”

“Maybe.”

“Hmm.”

You end up giggling, his smile too infectious and your bad moment is all forgotten as you serve him a slice, plating up for him and then yourself before you eat. John B digs in ravenously, it’s almost erotic — the way he’s groaning at how good it all tastes, gravy dripping from his lips as he licks more off his fingers. He was clearly less proper-mannered than you, but you liked that. Table manners were for boring old people anyway. Maybe everything about him got you going, but you had to really concentrate on getting some food inside you instead of just watching the show of eating he was putting on.

Once you’re finished, and he’s finishing up on his third helping — you let your giggles die down from the wild goose chase story he relayed for you, one where he of course wound up the hero which only made your heart beat harder for him. Your socked foot begins to prod at his ankle, sliding up his leg until it rests in his lap. He doesn’t seem to mind, the food having lowered his guard just that bit as he leans back in his chair, undoing his belt. He adjusts his hips on the seat as he does so and your thighs clench.

“So what did you think?” You ask, though you think it’s clear that he liked the meal from the empty plates and unbuckled belt. He lets out a long satisfied sigh, gazing at you for a moment with a kind smile.

“I think, whoever gets to marry you is a lucky son of a bitch.” He presses his lips together, almost like he was disappointed about the idea of you with another. You blink, the hands resting beneath your chin dreamily slowly falling to play with eachother on the table.

“Why not you, John B?” You question sadly, giving him those eyes again. The ones that tug on his heart and made him wanna give you everything and anything you ask for. He lifts a napkin, bringing it to his mouth as he shakes his head dismissively, closing his eyes with a frown.

“Mm—mm.” The tissue fabric muffles the sound. “You don’t wanna marry me, believe me — okay, I’m an outlaw. Your parents would never in a billion years accept me. Anyway you… you deserve someone less rough and tumble, you know? Like a prince from a storybook. A bubblewrap life. Not… whatever this is.” He gestures to himself, more so the browned blood stain on his shirt.

You sigh, determined. “My parents would understand. They’re — they’re generous people.”

“Really? ‘Cus they don’t even let you leave the house.” He quips quickly in response, smirking at your naivety and you fall silent for a moment. His face flattens just a tad from guilt. You were far too soft for that kind of tone.

When you look up at him again, your face is more solemn — wide eyes searching his for a shred of understanding. “You don’t understand, John B. There are actual scary, dangerous men out there that would take me and do terrible things to me.”

The outlaw leans his elbows on the table, his lips stretched into an amused smile at the irony. There wasn’t an inkling of threat about the gesture, pure amusement coursing through the energy between you from his side alone. “And how do you know I’m not one of those scary, dangerous men. Hm?” His voice is warm, it seems to rumble straight from his chest. You release a shaky sigh.

“Well you haven’t hurt me yet?” Your voice lilts out, and you engage in a long stare off. There’s a different kind of tension in the air now, it’s hot and feels heavy on you. It oozes into the nooks and crannies of your balmy skin and slithers between your thighs. You can’t take the heat and you stand, beginning to bring his dishes to the sink to wash. It’s quiet for a while, John B watching you with this thoughtful and almost knowing smile as you tidy up around him. Even he couldn’t run from how good ‘domestic bliss’ felt.

You let yourself indulge in the fantasy too. Wife cleans up, husband sits behind at the table and sips at the drink she poured him. You wanted nothing more than to experience this everyday, and your heart sinks sadly at the fact that this will probably be the last. You lose yourself to thoughts and daydreams as you scrub away, to the point you nearly don’t hear him stand up, slowly walking to lean against the sink beside you.

You smile at him politely as he eyes you, and return your gaze to the plate in your hand. You mustn’t dwell. He moves, and soon he’s behind you, a hand resting against the sink beside your hip, head craning round to look at you from the other side. “You’re really serious about this husband and wife thing, aren’t you?”

“Very serious, sir.” You bat your lashes at him earnestly and his cock stirs in his pants at the title, unexpected but not unwelcomed. Bless your heart, you were only being courteous. He presses his lips together in thought and the side of your face warms with his slow exhale. Turning your body, you face him fully now. “I just think it was divine intervention that you wound up in my barn. You’re like an angel sent to take away my loneliness.” You’re shy, a little bashful about your beliefs and without thinking he cups your cheek in reassurance, thumb swiping slowly over the skin.

His eyes take in your every detail, and your lips part with a wobbly breath, nervous. “May I kiss you, John B?” You address, just as his thumb strokes the delicate skin below your eye. He grins, slightly amused by your formality and simply nods his head.

You stand on tip toes to reach him, socked feet almost knocking at his boots as your body presses to his, lips meeting. You’re a little messy, inexperienced— which comes as no surprise to the boy as he tilts his head, welcoming your mouth at another angle and taking control in order to guide you. You’re mostly a quick learner, slowing your pace to something much more sultry and he nearly can’t contain his excitement. He wants to be a gentleman, but as soon as he introduces his tongue — you lose composure, needy and all but panting into his mouth right then and there in the kitchen. He pulls away and breaks the string of saliva that connects your lips with his thumb, stroking it over your moist bottom lip as you stare at him readily.

He tilts his head, eyes wide and almost innocent as he gestures away. “You… want me to show you what husbands do with their wives?”

You nod so hard your eyes nearly roll back like one of those baby-dolls.

John B is the one to take your hand this time, leading you slowly and carefully through the house. You partially think he’s giving himself time to rethink what he’s about to do, but from the way your pussy is drooling into your panties — it feels set in stone. He finally reaches your bedroom and you watch his head move left and right as he takes it in, cheek lifting with a smile at the China dolls on the wall and the frilly white bedsheets. It’s clear your room hasn’t changed since you were a little girl. The sun is just starting to disappear behind your lace curtains and he switches on the lamp, sitting you down.

The man joins you, easing himself down at your side and cupping your cheek as he begins to kiss you again. He takes it slow, but the passion and need only grows as the splayed hand on your back begins to slide upwards until its cupping the back of your head and he’s beginning to slowly lower you to lie down like you’re made of glass.

Naturally you shuffle up the bed and he follows, hovering over you and leading with his tongue this time — the wet muscles wrapping around eachother languidly making you moan, legs falling wider apart.

“I wanna make you feel really good, okay? That okay with you?” He asks gently and you nod, sucking in a breath. You’d waited for something like this since you knew what pleasure was, craved the touch of a man with strong coarse hands and a wet mouth. Routledges thumbs swipe across your tits through your dress, massaging them until your nipples were poking painfully through the fabric as he burrows into your neck, licking and sucking.

Your whole body feels like it’s on fire as he tugs gently at your dress, eyes meeting yours once more.

“Let’s get this off, yeah?”

He tugs the garment up and over, puffing out his cheeks as he blows air out his mouth, brows raised at the sight of your naked body. You look so soft, so pliable beneath him. He was already hard just from kissing you, but this made him feel like he might combust. “Took your underwear off?” He smirks, pressing kisses to your stomach and between your tits before bringing his face up to eye level with you, same kind but teasing smile on his face. “Have you been needing me aaall day? Hm?”

You turn your head to the side, flustered and clammy with a whine— eyes screwed shut. He chuckles, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “Oh, now you’re shy?”

“No, s’just — when you speak like that— n’say stuff like that… makes me hurt…” You’re breathless, hips twitching and bucking slightly as he grins, pearly whites showing.

“Aw.” Is all he manages before continuing his descent down.

He’s a real tease, spending an ungodly amount of time on your tits— sucking, licking and biting your nipples until you’re arched off the bed, teary eyed and wincing from sensitivity. It’s then, and only then he starts to kiss lower, pushing himself down your pristine sheets until he’s settling between your legs, gently easing your ankles upwards so that your knees faced the sky, your cunt fluttering and open right infront of his face.

“Well she’s very pretty.” He smiles up at you, thumbs coming up to spread you. He leans in slowly, hot breath fanning over your heat before he simply presses the softest kiss to your clit. He draws back again as you whimper, running the pads of his thumbs up along your spread folds. “Hear that? So wet, pretty girl.” He marvels in a whisper.

“Just want you to make it better.” You mewl and he nods slowly in understanding, tongue swiping over his lips as he observes you.

“That I can definitely do.” He confirms before leaning in, licking and sucking at your clit as his thumb automatically rolls downwards to massage your hole. You gasp, knees shooting up towards your chest as he eats you, similarly to the pure fervour and passion he only recently devoured the meal you cooked for him. You wondered how any appetite remained.

When he sinks his middle finger inside you, your stomach tenses — a high pitched noise of relief and utter devastation leaving you. You had no idea how badly you’d craved fullness to this very moment, and you weren’t even halfway there. He’s smiling against you, glancing up as you flutter around his single digit and make plenty of noise for him. “Yeah? Think you’ve really been needing some of that, little girl.” He nearly laughs at your extreme reaction. He had to admit, it was fun doing this with someone so inexperienced. Everything to you seemed like the best thing ever.

He eats and eats away, proving himself to have quite the monstrous appetite for your slick . Your feet rest on his shoulders at one point, lost in pleasure as you whine and writhe and to keep you out of the way, the outlaw pushes your legs up and pins them there, nose deep in your gloss.

“Feels too good— feels— hurts!” You cry, because you don’t know how to put that you’re simply aching to cum.

“Doesn’t hurt, sweet girl. Just let it happen.” He corrects in that low reverberation that you’ve grown to love. After a series of ‘Uh’ and ‘Mm’s, you feel yourself hitting that peak — the one you usually reach all over the soft cotton of your pillow, but ten times the strength.

As soon as he senses this happening, he doubles down and continues repeating the same action with his mouth over and over until you’re squealing and pushing him away, curling into a ball as your completion dribbles out of your quivering hole.

He grins, real proud of himself as he pushes up on his hands to near you, gently shushing you the same way you would to soothe a baby to sleep. “I know, that was a lot huh?” He coo’s, rubbing your back with his warm hand as you suffer the aftershocks, clenching and whimpering, a smaller clammy hand reaching out to his shirt to grab a fist of it.

He forces you softly onto your back, stroking a hand over your warm forehead. For someone so convinced the two of you shouldn’t be together, he sure did look at you like you were his entire world. By the gaze shared, you would never know the two of you only met that morning.

“What now, hm?” He smiles, quiet. You open your mouth to speak, and your voice rasps from the loud and explosive release that had you calling out.

“Wanna… make you feel as good as you made me feel, John B.”

He licks his lips, thinking over it. If it wasn’t already clear, his dick was throbbing in his pants just from pleasing you— and had you wanted to end things there he would be sure to take a trip to the bathroom to finish in his hand. Maybe swipe a pair of your underwear from the basin for inspiration, but that made his stomach tense with guilt.

“Think I can manage that, yeah.” He nods before reaching slowly for his belt. “Sure?”

“Mhm.”

“Good, good.”

His belt is still undone from after dinner so he slides the snakey leather from its loops with one hand, the act more attractive than you anticipated which made you clench once more with need. He sits on the edge of the bed and you usher up beside him, pressing your naked body to him and ghosting your drooly lips over his jaw line as he sighs, working his length out of his pants.

“Oh my.” You breathe, as soon as you look down. Now you hadn’t had much experience in dealing with the male anatomy, clearly — but you knew for certain John B had to be miles larger than the average man. His cock stood tall, straight — slightly mauve towards the tip with a beautiful blue vein drifting down his shaft like a river on a mountain. His balls sat beneath, heavy and pink — inviting in a way that made your mouth water primally.

“Yeah? This is… what m’working with.” He chuckles, sounding a little nervous.

“How do I…” You mutter after a moment and he’s quick to take your hand, pressing your fingers so that it forms a cup and bringing it to your mouth.

“You wanna spit for me, pretty? Right here.” He encourages and whilst you don’t understand, you do as he wishes, letting a bubbly glob of saliva drool out into the cupped crevice of your hand. You look up at him with wide unsure eyes, searching for praise or reassurance that you’d done as he asked. He presses his lips together at the sweet and submissive expression, shifting his hips a tad in excitement. “Mm, fuck.” He punctuates with an airy chuckle, ticking his head in a single shake.

He brings your hand down and begins to smear it all over himself, releasing a shaky exhale as he does so. “So, uh�� you’re gonna wanna move your hand. Just like this.” He sighs as he works your hand up and down his shaft, slowly jerking him off. Your eyes flicker between his face and pretty dick to make sure you were doing it right. As you do so, he presses a lingering kiss to your lips, muttering a “So sweet, bubba.” Against your mouth.

This only encourages you to gain confidence, doing whatever feels right. You twist your hand— squeezing just a tad harder towards the tip as that seemed to be what made him release that heavenly groan, jaw constantly agape as he watches your hand.

“Theeere you go sweetheart. Easy right? Like milking a cow.” He kisses your temple briskly once more before his eyes screw shut, chest heaving with quicker breaths. You get carried away, fascinated by the pearly precum that seeps from his slit as you work him with your hand and following your own judgment you lean down. You figure if he used his mouth on you, you could return the favour.

His eyes open with a loud shudder when you tentatively wrap your plush lips around his tip, working your hand up and down to try and squeeze more of the interesting salty flavour from him. You let out a long drawn out moan of your own as you feel your clit throbbing with desire, liberating his precum from your mouth to let it dribble back down his shaft in messy bubbles.

He winces, placing a hand on your shoulder and removing you with such an abrupt speed that you nearly flew off the side of the bed. You sit up straight, slick mouth pouting as your eyes flicker between his, worrying that you’d done something wrong. There’s a second of just looking at eachother, before you stumble over some words.

“S—Sorry. Did I hurt—”

“No, no God no. I uh— I just wasn’t sure if I should make a mess all over that pretty face just yet.” His wide eyed expression melts into a reassuring smile, thumb rising to swipe lovingly at your cheek. You lick your lips, savouring the taste of him and nod — not quite sure where to go from there.

Your silence makes him question, and he eyes you. “Is there… anything in particular you want now?”

You think, blinking your doll-like eyelashes off into the distance before nodding once more— pushing off away from him and scurrying to the head of the bed where you lay yourself gently on the pillows.

“Hm?” He follows up in confusion, craning his neck round to watch you.

“Would… like a baby now, please.” You spread your legs a little, shy and bashful in your request like you wasn’t sure if you’d asked impolitely. His face falls as he stares at you for a moment before closing his eyes, rubbing over his face with an exasperated chuckle, elbows on his knees.

As you stare at him with with an upset little pout, already ashamed by your forwardness. “Like husband and wife?” You try to justify and he sighs out his nose, turning his body fully to you.

“Oh sweet girl.” He tugs you gently lower toward him by your hips, rubbing his thumbs at your waist. “We just met.”

You launch into full fledged begging, whiny and high pitched with tears threatening to dive over their trough. “I’ll make you so happy John B, I’ll make all your problems go away and you won’t have to run anymore. Please?” You were deadset on this man giving you your dream life, and you’d officially pushed shame to the side in order to get this. His brow is permanently creased, staring with those big wide puppy dog eyes, continually stroking your skin in hopes to calm you.

“Are you… sure that’s what you want? You’re still young. So much time for all that.”

“Just want it now. I’d never be lonely again.” You sound defeated, staring down away from him now. He felt bad, he’d always hated disappointing people. Once upon a time he was a fixer, always running to his friends aid to make their problems go away. That urge never died, just burned low and quiet like an old candle flame. He wanted to make your problems go away too.

“Okay.” He presses his lips together. “I’ll give you what you want, sweetheart.”

He watches your devastated expression lift into a radiant grin, and it was like watching the sun appear from behind a grey cloud after weeks of downcast weather. “Yeah?” You chirp toothily as he crawls over you, leaking tip grazing your tummy and then your folds as he buries his face into your neck.

“Uh-huh.”

When he pushes his tip inside, John B says a prayer for the first time in his life.

He’d never really followed any religion. His father had been the type to say it was all a bunch of ‘Mumbo jumbo’ and that he should believe in the human psyche instead, or something like that. But as your wet folds swallow him and you release that high pitched mewl at the inevitable stretch — he finds himself asking God — please, please don’t let me knock this young girl up.

There’s a warm blanket of chills that cover his spine as he slowly sheathes inside of you, feeling like he was pushing deeper and deeper into a black hole that would selfishly keep sucking him inside for the rest of his life. It felt too good, calming — like falling asleep. He was euphoric.

“So — so big inside me!” Your cry knocks him out of his thoughts and he kisses your shoulder before looking down to watch himself push in all the way to the hilt.

“Feel okay, gorgeous?”

You nod, a pained whine falling from you as you dig your nails into his skin, walls fluttering around him like they were constantly trying to accommodate for this thickness. “Fuck.” He groans, before sliding back a little and starting to thrust. Yeah, he wasn’t gonna last too long— he needed to get to work on you fast.

As he gently fucks into you, your plush tits recoil with the movement and he can’t close his mouth, sounds and sighs leaving him without permission. A hand slides between the two of you, the other pulling his shirt up to grip between his teeth— giving himself a better view of the way he strokes at your clit — your legs being spread exposing it, making it easier for him.

You clench, and shudder — that sweet face contorting with each time his tip ever so slightly grazes your cervix, careful not to bruise it. You really were beautiful, that type of homely beauty he’d thought of marrying in his lonely nights of travelling through desert and grass. The type of girl you work for, the type that deserves spoiling, princess treatment. The more he fucks, the more he’s convincing himself that impregnating you might not be the most awful thing after all. Why should he chase away security?

Your fingertips grace his chest, and he takes your hand — pinning it to the bed as your fingers intertwine, using the grip to aid his rolling thrusts— speeding up the pace and force now he knew you could take it like a champ. His mouth opens to speak, and his shirt drops out of it.

“Taking me real good baby. You like getting fucked, don’t you?” He coo’s and you can only nod, tears gathering in the corner of your eyes before rolling down to your temples. Poor thing, lost for words.

There’s a wet slapping sound with each thrust, your cunt equally gushing as it was thirsty — hungrily welcoming each inch of his, and even demanding more by locking your ankles around his lower back. Perhaps you did it for comfort, or perhaps because you suspected a hesitance, the threat of him pulling out last minute too much for your baby-crazed brain.

“Jesus. Sweet little puppy.” He breathes like it’s a revelation beneath your ear, the curly tuft of hair above his shaft tickling you as he continues to rub your clit.

“S’gonna happen again, John B. The big feeling.” You strain, eyes clamped shut and sniffling— too overwhelmed by your impending orgasm. He kisses each eye lid and watches you closely, experiencing you unfold once more.

“Thats my good girl. Let me have it, pup. Gimme a good one.”

You’re an explosion of whimpers and moans, thrashing under his firm grip once more— and he’s not sure when your orgasm ends, if it even ends at all— he doesn’t care, the release pushing him close to his own. He speeds up his pace, hand that was at your clit now wrapping around your lower back, forearm pushing your lower half up and against him, forcing you to just keep taking him.

He was like a beast from a fairytale book, fucking wildly into you with a primal determination that had you struggling to breathe. You’re crying now, full out crying because it’s just so much. There’s still one last thing you require, and only he can give you it.

“You wanna make me daddy, huh?” He demands, that gentleness in his voice gone. It’s nearly unrecognisable from him, and you preen beneath the rough touch.

“Mhm!”

“Words.” He barks. He didn’t mean to be mean, he just got a little bossy when he was close. You’d come to learn that.

“Please give me a baby. Please just — make you a daddy! Need it!” You’re squealing, voice shaking from the hard ‘plap plap plap’ of his balls slapping against you. You feel you might pass out if this goes on much longer.

He releases with a long groan, lips dropping to the centre of your chest and back arching upwards. You register his sounds before you feel it, hot slimy ropes of him— shooting up inside you, warming your walls. You moan too, because it feels so good to be full. It feels right, like this was what had been missing after all.

Everything is a blur for the next few minutes. It’s like you black out a little, because maybe you forgot to be breathing like you should have been. You briefly recall John B scooping you up and helping you through that, ignoring the gooey seed dripping from you to cradle you like a baby, humming a calm “Breathe, sweetheart. In and out. With me, c’mon.” Your gentle boy was back, and through your haze you smile.

Once you’re tucked at his side beneath a soft cotton blanket, his hand stroking over your head after cleaning you up, a whispered conversation ensues.

“Do you really like me John B? Like, you really think I’m beautiful?” You inquire, gazing up at him with stuck together black eyelashes. The question was so innocent, yet he could tell it was so meaningful.

His expression doesnt falter, a gentle smile sat comfortably on his lips as he continues to pet you. “Baby, I think you’re the ponds swan. Just… gotta get to know you a little better, okay? ‘Specially if I really did put a baby in you.” Only then his smile falters, brows knitting as the reality sets in. Oh Lord.

“Okay.” Your eyes flutter closed, happy to leave it at that, happy to fall asleep right by his side under his watchful eye. It was unnerving how safe a lonely girl could feel with a stranger.

“Okay. Good girl. It’ll be okay. We’ll figure it out.” He quietly reassures, watching you drift off. He’s not sure if he’s trying to dispel your fears, or his own.

[jnece-maharlika]

Pt 2. EXTRA Danny accidentally becomes the president

P2 extra: Danny becomes the president

Danny slept for ONLY a few days and when he woke up he was healed of all injury. Oh, and also, he wasn't in his room. NO, he was in a mansion, a FRUITLOOP type of mansion. A beautiful gothic inspired mansion that screamed "I AM ELEGANCE, I AM BEAUTY I AM MONEY" it was only when he one of the workers in the mansion came in did he get informed about what happened these last few days.

APPARENTLY this wasn't just a mansion, it was a WHITE HOUSE. Except it was panted like a black and green galaxy because everyone hates white now

And also he's the president.

A Fenton is either EXTREMELY SUCCESSFUL or EXTREMELY UNSUCCESSFUL.

All he wanted to keep to protect his town from the GIW. But considering that fainted he was... unsuccessful? But that slight failure did help the amity parkers decide to help themselves and finally accept him as hero so maybe not??

He was happy that they accepted him and protected him but he really wasn't expecting this at all. Why in the world did they make him president??? He didn't think they liked him that much! Also! How is he president??? Amity park is just a random town in the middle of nowhere Illinois!

Wait...what??! WHAT DO YOU MEAN AMITY IS AN INDEPENDENT COUNTRY???!! I WAS OUT FOR 3 DAYS! THEY HAVENT EVEN STARTED CLEANING UP YET HOW IN THE NAME OF THEY ANCIENTS DID WE GET DECLARED AS AN INDEPENDENT COUNTRY????!

"I see..." Danny nodded after finally calming down. "So let me get this straight..." He counted on his fingers, "You," he looks at the woman in front of him "along side other people and ghosts, and mom and dad, and fright night, and Pandora...kidnapped the us president"

She nodded.

"Took him to UN headquarters, then Bribed, blackmailed, and harrased the UN members into declaring us a country"

.she nodded.

"Then declared me as king and president of amity"

She nodded.

"You know this new development is gonna attract the league of bitches right?"

"Oh we won't have to worry about that for now, but when they do then we'll be prepared." She smiled innocently.

Danny stared at her with tired eyes as he channeled his inner amity parker, the power to say well, I guess this is happening now. He sighed "Fine, but I can't be king and president at the same time. I can be king since you're all liminal, so technically all of amity is part of the whole ghost king territory." He sighed, "but I can't be president, too much responsibility, I'm already in charge of a whole ass realm"

So now they needed a new president, preferably some uncorrupt, someone who doesn't care much about the money and will always look for ways to improve the living standard, someone kind but not a push over.

Next day it was declared that.

MADDIE AND JACK FENTON, PRESIDENTS OF AMITY.

Danny was stunned when he saw the news. Did they seriously pick the resident mad scientists as president.

Don't get him wrong, he loves his parents and know that they're awesome but can they do this???

Turns out they can.

The president Drs Fenton's first move was healthcare for Both ghosts and humans and a free class dedicated to helping yourself.

Helping yourself classes include:

How to stitch your self up

How to use fudge as a weapon

How to fight the world most dangerous villains.

How to fight the worlds strongest heroes

Etch.

They launched some programs that might seem weird at first.

Programs like:

A defence class against sentient food.

Making friends with the realms

A school for the liminal

A class for avoiding the fae.

Using the blob ghosts as construction workers.

Etch

They might be weird but the end results turned out to be pretty usefull for the amity parkers.

At some point they decided to build a wall around the countrys property. It would ensure that only the amity parkers and people with permission would be able to enter/leave the town. There would be no gate and the only way out would be trough the portal system built by the Fenton's.

Danny thought it was too much

The amity parkers thought it was perfect, they didn't want anyone in their country, this was the kings haunt, this was their home and they would die and then come back as ghosts just to protect it.

And so the wall was raised..

Amity park continued to live in harmony and peace for many years...

-----

A couple of years later.

Flash had come across the wall.

And of course, alerted the league of bitches.

Batman was having a headache, no matter where he looked, no matter how many government systems he hacked, there was nothing. Not a single piece of info, not a single paper trail on what could possibly be whats behind the wall, and when it was built.

But it's impossible for something that big to just appear out of nowhere.

So the JL had suggested looking over Illinois via satellite, the wall didn't have a roof so they should be able to see the inside.

"What the heck" Oracle cursed as she looked at the camera. "Hey RR, look at this"

"what is it?" Red Robin walked closer, coffee mug in hand.

"Somethings interfering, I can't get a view of the wall at all" she took a sip of her own coffee as she tried hacking. Emphasis on TRIED.

The batcomputer was covered in static, then turned black. After that it flashed gold with a Egyptian like gold simbol and a message.

"NU UH"

" Get wrecked ".

Suddenly whoever was On the other side started hacking the batcomputer.

It turned into a nearly 24 hour, (Oracle: does this hacker not sleep??) battle of trying to keep the hacker away from their bat systems.

It only stopped when the hacker sent a message.

"Nice as this little war was, im getting bored so bye (⁠ ⁠╹⁠▽⁠╹⁠ ⁠)"

Seizing the opportunity they tried to hack in. Only to be hit with a firewall and a virus.

--------

Life was good, life was stressful but it was good for Danny.

He thought to himself as he walked towards the wall that kept them safe.

Appearantly the clan of glorified furrys tried hacking them last night. Unfortunately for them not only was Tucker incredibly good at hacking, his liminality also gave him less need for sleep so he just kept messing with them until they were exhausted.

But this little occurrence made Danny think a bit. Now that the GIW was gone and the Anti ecto acts were basically burned without a trace , there was no need to hide. There was never a need to isolate their little country in the first place.

The amity parkers are free come and go whenever they want, the wall isn't here to keep them in, it's to keep the outsiders out. The rich familys often go out, they can't just disappear from society after all, but the other amity parkers, they don't. They haven't left at all, claiming that it was better for them here as they probably won't be accepted. Just because the Anti ecto laws are gone doesn't change the fact that liminals and ghost aren't recognized as species, they were closer to myths than metas and the world, (especially the league of bitches) werent like them, they were terrified of change. So they stayed in amity.

The people just wanted to feel safe for a while, lay low until they're sure that no one would hurt them any more. But they're stronger now, better than before and more ...magical.

Danny stops waking and looks back at the town. Liminals, ghost, blobs, and humans with ghostly features from the ecto walked, talked and played together. He grinned so what if the world would have a hard time accepting them? The worlds opinion doesn't matter, destroying it or fleeing to another dimension was always a choice and his people aren't the type to back down from a fight.

Yeah, It was time to reintroduce Amity to the world. He flipped the switch and the walls portal gate opened to Gotham.

Now then? They had a plan, his people suggested he take the lead in the plan and they will follow.

The plan? The plan was to become a head ache for Bruce Wayne, aka the The Furry knight.

Rich fruitloop with a plan to takeover the business world style.

_________

Tim is stressed not only is he stressed with the whole random Illinois wall situation he's also stressing out about this random Business man that appeared out of nowhere And is competing against WE!

Okay, maybe not competing but still!! It's only been two months, TWO MONTHS since this company appeared and it was already competing for one of the richest companys in America! How?????

So he tried looking into the owner. The owner looked like about his age! Looked like a fresh 18 year old but his file says he's 25, something about slow aging that runs in the family, maybe a meta gene? But theres no way he could build a billionaire company from scratch at only 25 so hes definitely born in a rich family. Daniel Fenton, his name, a perfectly normal name. Only issue is that, THERE ARE NO BILLIONAIRE FAMILIES NAMED FENTON!.

He looked deeper, he found an interview that said he was from a country called Amity when asked where it was, he gave coordinates. Not an address, not a continent, but COORDINATES. And Guess where the coordinates led?

THE FREAKING WALL OF ILLINOIS!!!!.

This man came from the wall! Well... Most likely INSIDE the wall. But from the wall nonetheless.

So he told Bruce, and what was the best way to get a business mans attention without being suspicious?

A GALA

Tags, I'm not gonna do tags anymore, might make a masterpost so look out for that instead.

@vixen-uchiha

@sebas-nights

@whotfevenknowsanymore

@jaguarthecat

@serasvictoria02

@devilbunny612

@sumatra513

@just-lurking-dont-mind-meh

@i-love-mangoes

----

[thewritingofamadwoman]

Hot Buns

A random snippet into the lives of Annalise & Mark Sloan. Technically a part 2.5? Let me know what you think & thank you for reading 🤗

Pairing: Mark Sloan x Fem!Reader

Warnings: allusions to smut but no actual smut, sickeningly sweet fluff

To anyone who didn’t know Mark Sloan or Annalise Grey-Sloan, life at Seattle Grace was the same as it had been for the past few months. The ex-couple decided to give their relationship a try once more, with Annalise having gone so far as forgiving Mark and allowing him to take her out on a few dates.

No one picked up on the innocent flirting between the two; the looks and giggles shared, the secret touches whenever they stood in the same vicinity. No one had ANY idea of their little rendezvous in the on call rooms. Or at least, that’s what Mark and Annalise thought.

“So are they going to eye fuck each other the entire time or are we going to actually learn something today?” Alex Karev grunted, standing off to the side as Mark and Annalise “discussed” the case they were working on together. Cristina and Meredith rolled their eyes at him.

“Well I for one think it’s great that they’re speaking again. Little Jolie deserves to have both of her parents happy,” Meredith shrugged, smiling to herself at the sound of her sister’s giggle at whatever the “plastics God” said to her.

“I agree with Mer. A less angry Annalise means more surgeries for me to scrub in on. So if McSteamy wants to McGet-It-On with her, I’m all for it. I’ll even buy her condoms if she wants,” Cristina said cheerfully, not noticing the power couple creeping up behind her. Annalise cleared her throat.

“Well thank you for that, Dr Yang. I’ll keep that in mind. Are we good to start rounds or would you prefer I gave you details on which condoms I prefer for your future reference?” The brunette asked, an eyebrow raised playfully at Cristina and her sister. Annalise didn’t care about what was said about her when it came from friends, and she loved to torment interns as much as she could. Cristina had enough sense to blush and look away while Alex snickered before Mark called out to him.

“Oi, Karev! Let’s get a move on, these patients won’t heal themselves!” He barked, making his way down the hall but not before winking at Annalise.

Anna smiled, and rolled her eyes playfully at the intern who immediately followed after Mark. Her smile lingered a little too long on his retreating form, and when she turned back to Meredith and Christina, she couldn’t escape their teasing smirks.

“Wipe those grins off your faces,” Annalise scoffed, walking around them and doing her best to ignore the heat trying to creep up her face.

“Well you two look close,” Meredith teased, her signature smile on her face. Christina snorted in agreement.

“Close is an understatement. Sloan’s one step away from sticking his tongue down her throat with every passing longing glance,” she said dramatically as they stopped outside the patient’s room. Anna genuinely laughed at that, resulting in the patient, Mark and Alex to look over at the three doctors who stood by the door.

“Sorry Mrs Sheffield, I’m Doctor Grey-Sloan. These are my interns, Doctor Grey and Doctor Yang. I’ll be assisting Doctor Sloan with your procedure. I’ll be in charge of making sure your heart doesn’t give out while Doctor Sloan works on the external repairs on your abdomen while removing that superficial tumor and patching you up as good as new. I promise you, you’re in great hands,” Annalise reassured the patient gently, reaching over and giving her hand a squeeze. The older woman smiled back kindly and looked between Annalise and Mark, the latter already standing off to the side and prepping a game plan with Karev.

“You said your name was Grey-Sloan? Any relation to the stud?” Mrs Sheffield nodded towards Mark unabashedly, her voice hushed. Anna’s smile widened.

“Mhmm, he’s my husband.”

“Oh you’re one lucky girl. If I were 30 years younger I’d be climbing him like a tree. Do you see the buns on him? Oh the way I’d like to give’em a quick squeeze,” Mrs Sheffield went on, her voice not as hushed as she thought. Annalise chucked and noticed the tips of Mark’s ears slowly turning a light shade of red.

“Alright Mrs Sheffield, let’s keep that heart rate down,” Annalise teased. “We’ll be back later to get you prepped for surgery. In the meantime, Grey, please make sure we have an OR booked and Yang, please get Mrs Sheffield ready with the pre-surgical team. Karev, please follow up with pathology one final time about Mrs Sheffield’s most recent blood tests so we can confirm we’re good to start on time. ”

Christina, Meredith and Alex nodded and stepped out of the room to get started on their tasks immediately. Before Anna could make it out the door however, she heard Mark yelp. She turned around and found Mark rubbing his backside as he scurried out of the room, Mrs Sheffield winking at her and smirking to herself while rubbing her hands together. “I’ve still got it!” She cheered, and Mark pulled a tittering Annalise out the door with him.

“That was not funny, I feel violated and objectified,” Mark whined, his grip gentle on Annalise’s elbow, pulling her with him down the hall and around the corner. Anna’s chuckles broke into a full on belly laugh at Mark’s flushed face. They stopped walking, and Anna used the wall behind her as support while she laughed.

“You should have seen your face!” She giggled. Mark, who was thoroughly embarrassed, found his gaze softening at the sight of his wife laughing wholeheartedly. And yes while it was at his expense, he wouldn’t change it for anything in the world. He rolled his eyes, playfully annoyed, a smile playing on his lips as her own giggles were infectious.

“Are you done?” He asked, crossing his arms as he looked down at her.

Anna did her best to stop laughing, biting her lip and looking up at Mark with a somewhat innocent expression. Mark felt his heart flutter at the sight of her.

“I’m good, I’m good. God it’s been so long since I laughed like that,” she sighed, smiling brightly. Mark smiled back and shook his head.

“Yeah, and it took me being assaulted by an elderly woman squeezing my ass for you to laugh that hard. You’re welcome,” Mark sassed. Annalise quirked an eyebrow teasingly at him.

“You weren’t complaining when I was the one squeezing your ass in the on call room earlier…” she said, lowering her voice as she looked up at him coyly, daring him to play along.

Mark’s eyebrows shot up in surprise before he immediately collected himself and reacted accordingly, smirking while bringing his right arm up and above Anna, bracing it on the wall behind her. His other arm reached towards her, his hand engulfing her waist as he stepped closer to her, caging her between the wall and himself. What Mark didn’t do, however, was check to see if the coast was clear before speaking; his voice taking on a more deep and gravelly tone.

“Well, I am a gentleman. Who am I to deny my woman from grabbing my ass when she’s down on her knees for me with her mouth wrapped around my—“

“AH-DONT YOU FINISH THAT SENTENCE MARK SLOAN,” an incredulous voice spoke up and both doctors jumped apart at the sound of Miranda Bailey.

“This is a god damn hospital, not a whore house, keep that kind of talk OUT of the halls! What is wrong with people today, talking nasty while I’m trying to my damn job,” Miranda muttered to herself as she continued her way down the hall, glaring at the couple.

Mark and Annalise took one look at each other and cracked up at the hilarity of it all.

“I can see why the interns call her the Nazi,” he muttered, crossing his arms over his chest again. Annalise nodded and continued to watch Doctor Bailey make her way down the hall, before she turned back to glare at them once more before she turned the corner.

Tag List:

@caseyandsloan @spookyboogyuniverse @xjasam4lifex @afckingswiftiebtch @itschelseacisneros @kkr102 @jackiehollanderr @jordycat-2018

[kurticus]

Monitor Duty Company

“So I have been meaning to ask, what exactly are you?”

Danny was floating through the open space of the Watchtower bridge. Idly tossing a fist sized red bouncy ball with a yellow lightning bolt pattern off of the gray metal walls. The question came from the red speedster, Flash, who was lounging in the central chair of the room with his feet propped up on the control panel. Supposedly Flash was watching those monitors. But despite this being the third time Danny had visited the space station, he’d never seen Flash monitor anything. He just made conversation and told stories that Danny could not decide if he believed or not.

The question caught Danny as he sent the ball flying. He fumbled and twisted upside down as he barely caught the ball on its return. Nervously he straightened and replied, “What am I? Uh. Kind of a deep question isn’t it?” 

Flash waved his hand dismissively. “I mean the ghosty stuff. Not really my area of expertise. But you don’t strike me as a ghost.”

“Ha. Not ghostly enough for you?” Danny put his hands over his head and made his eyes glow. “Am I not spooky enough?” He waggled his fingers for extra effect.

In a blur Flash was standing next to him, giving Danny an over the top examination. Half bowing as he hummed in consideration. Then in an instant he was back in his chair spinning slightly. “Nope. Kid you don’t seem like a ghost at all.”

Danny let gravity find him again and drifted back to the floor with a light thump. He stood up straight and eyed a glance at his reflection in one of the grand windows of the space station. His hair was still white and he radiated a soft glow. Slightly annoyed, he asked, “What do you mean?”

“I have met ghosts. Sometimes they seem like normal people. Sometimes they are invisible voices that try to creep you out. Sometimes they turn into monsters and throw cars at you. Heck we have a part-time leaguer named Deadman. Nobody can see him at all until he decides to take over someone's body. I’ve never seen a ghost shoot lasers or make glowing shields like you do.” 

Suddenly a pencil eraser from somewhere on the nearby desk bounced off Danny’s face. Danny flinched and rubbed where he’d been hit. “Ow, stop that!” Looking back he saw Flash toying with a pencil innocently.

“Besides,” Flash continued, pointing the pencil at the ghost boy, “You are solid. Lots of spooky things have to work to be solid. You default to it. You gotta choose to go through stuff like J’on does. So I figure, not a ghost. Am I right?”

“Well, I am a ghost.” Danny tossed the ball back to the speedster. “But that is kind of a blanket term that gets complicated fast. Lots of things call themselves ghosts. Technically speaking, I am an Ecto-Entity.” Danny pronounced this with formality and a stiff back. Thinking of the way his parents said it. “Also more politely known as a Ghost of the Infinite Realms.”

“Infinite Realms huh? Sounds spacious.”

“You have no idea.” Danny picked his foot up and tucked it under himself. Then slipping past gravity he pulled the other foot up so he was sitting on nothing with crossed legs. Drifting slightly he continued. “Also called the ghost zone, it is an endless dimension of energy and emotion that exists in the shadow of reality. Basically emotions and memories from this world can imprint on the energy of the ghost zone. Then that energy forms stuff like me.” 

“So,” Flash smiled. “Just to be clear, you aren’t some creature that escaped from Hell to haunt the living?”

Danny flashed a crooked smile and shifted his eyes to a bright frost blue. “Keep the jokes up, I know how well you handle iced floors.” Still drifting lightly while sitting in air, Danny softly blew air at Flash. Dusting him is a light coating of frost and snow. 

“Cute.” Flash shivered slightly and brushed a few snowflakes from his shoulders. “So not the exorcism, don’t go into the light kind of ghost?”

Danny thought back to the flash of pain and light from the accident. “Uh, well… There can be some overlap…” 

**************************************************************

This conversation takes place after Danny has worked with the Justice League a few times and built some trust. Flash, after learning of his love for space, invites him to spend time at the watchtower. Giving him someone to talk to during his shifts on monitor duty.

I haven't written much myself, but there have been so many great posts lately about Danny interacting with the DCU. I might have to start my take as well.

Plus the question of how the lore interacts between the different shows is really compelling to me.

Let me know what you think. I haven't written much so I am sure there are plenty of pointers I could use. Hit me.

[badass-queer-couples-battle]

Gay wrongs tournament, round 1 of the minor bracket

Propaganda:

For Mick Rory and Leonard Snart:

The only supervillains on that show that understood the assignment. Thieves with a flare and loyal only to eachother. Eventually become anti heroes on legends of tomorrow but I liked them best as villains. The best part of both shows. Over the top and committed to the theme for the vibes. Puns and crime.

Fire and ice pairing! 

For Sergey and Oleg: (propaganda from the previous tournament here)

They're so married!!! The domesticity oh my god they live together and they sleep in the same bed and they're worried if the other isn't here when they wake up and they take care of each other when they're sick. Sorry, the latest issue was a lot. Anyway, the crime-doing part. They're both officially criminals and they're wanted in quite a few countries for various reasons: in Russia they killed A Lot of people in various bloody and/or arson-y ways (most famously rich corrupted people, which only antagonists can do) and blew up some stuff (which also killed a lot of innocent people) and kidnapped other innocent people just to get revenge on one guy who was just doing his job (the cop who got Sergey in prison while Oleg was out of the country) (and technically Oleg breaking Sergey out of prison is also a crime, on top of all his solo mercenary stuff). In Italy they also killed people and also broke countless laws (you can even count building safety laws in here for fun), in Mexico (honeymoon!) they had a run-in with the local mafia and that also ended bloodily, in a few other countries they were mostly just evading the law but you can't really do that without breaking other laws. They stole at least one helicopter (after killing the soldiers in it). And that's all *before* the current series. In that one they're coercing someone into becoming a vigilante (an already wanted by the law vigilante), and they're trying not to do so much public things, because they like being presumed dead and not being on the run. But that doesn't stop them from bloodily killing anyone who threatens them or Lera (the med student under the new Plague Doctor costume) or their plan, or defending themselves (by killing people) when the consequences of their past actions come around (does it even count as legitimate defense when you kill almost all the henchmen of the guy who wants to kill you because years ago his parent was an unfortunate victim of your beef with someone totally unrelated? Not sure). And yes *technically* they're killing other criminals, but also they are much worse criminals themselves (as said on- page by a secondary character who was trying to kill them because of, well, all the past terrorism / murder).

They're widely considered to be the worst people in a town full of criminals. A lot of people want to kill them, because of all the murders they did earlier. In all their appearances they're either the most married couple of a series that also has real married couples, or extremely efficient killers who don't have a qualm disposing of everybody else's henchmen.

[thecomfywriter]

🫧oc questionnaire tag🫧

Hello hello! Thank you for the tags @drchenquill, @illarian-rambling

I think I'll respond with Alan and Evan. Why not? It would be a fun compare and contrast.

｡ ₊°༺❤︎༻°₊ ｡

what uncommon/common fear do they have?

Alan: People looking in his eyes, disappointing his father, using contractions when he speaks (i'm not even joking)

Evan: Reflections, food, water, his own appearance, sleeping, blood (mind you, this man is a healer)

do they have any pet peeves?

Alan: When people touch him, especially unprompted. This man requires people to use gloves or ask permission first

Evan: People being vague or mysterious. Like bro... Just get to the point. Or when people try to force him to eat

what are 3 items you can find in their bedroom?

Alan: Old weathered books, gloves, skates

Evan: Gemstones, jewellery, love letters to his girlfriend (our boi is a romantic)

what do they notice first in a person?

Alan: Their posture and confidence. How they carry themselves and their presence in the room

Evan: The colour and songs of their Aura

on a scale of 1 to 10, how high is their pain tolerance?

Alan: Physical pain = 9/10 ; emotional pain = 2/10. This man got electrocuted by lightening and shook it off because of the sheer amount of magically-induced adrenaline pumping through his system, but then his dad says something hurtful to him and he starts to tear up

Evan: Physical and emotional pain = 1000/10. bro's built different

do they go into fight or flight mode when under pressure?

Alan: Planning mode? He becomes a schemer bro. Put him in a tough spot and he'll still make time to come up with an action plan.

Evan: He's very yolo sike, f*ck it. So he's 1000% fight.

do they come from a big family/are they a family person?

Alan: HUGE family person. When talking about his ideal future life, he says his dream is to be a father and to spend all his time with his family. He doesn't want to be the type of husband who works all day and never sees his wife. He wants to be involved because his father and him have a very... tumultuous relationship.

Evan: Has 2 older sisters and a relatively large family (at least, for Soilaila's standards). He wants to be a family person but because of the strain in his family dynamic and relationships, he's scared he's going to screw up his kids just like his parents screwed him up, so he doesn't want to have a family until he gets his shit together first and heals from his trauma.

what animal represents them best?

Alan: canonically, a bunny. Gentle, fast, and innocent-- but naive/outmatched by the predators of the wild.

Evan: Hawk, horse, or phoenix. Hawks for that vision and clarity, as well as his fly-high free-bird perspective; horses for the strength, elegance, and endurance. Phoenix for his resilience against adversity. I'd also say peacocks because bro's majestic.

what is a smell that they dislike?

Alan: Sulphur. Bad experiences.

Evan: Blood or food. He hates both.

have they broken any bones?

Alan: Way too many. Most notably, his back 💀 Gave Morreial a panic attack to hear the crunch of his spine.

Evan: He's only ever broken his arm. Specifically, he shattered his elbow, ulna, and fragmented some of his wrist bones. Oh also... He technically did get his chest blown up so maybe his ribs too? There was a gaping hole so I guess...

how would a stranger likely describe them?

Alan: Kind, curious, intelligent, but innocent. Like an overly-trusting puppy.

Evan: Ethereal. Confident. Beautiful. Talent. Genius. Prodigious. Charming. Funny. Having an undeniable presence and frustratingly attractive charisma. Also a goddamn theatrical, extra, foolishly oblivious idiot. The definition of a genius with dumbass energy.

are they a night owl or a morning bird?

Alan: Morning bird, for sure. He has a whole morning routine dawg... When Jervee Iyzela intrudes on it, he was so irritated because that's his 'me time'.

Evan: Both. Man's doesn't sleep. He actually avoids sleeping.

what is a flavour they hate and a flavour they love?

Alan: Loves = broopasha (it's a syrup cube that grows on trees native to Soilaila) and dragon blood. Hates = spices (rip rip rip, Caramel hates him for this) and morregal blood.

Evan: He hates everything because he hates food.

do they have any hobbies?

Alan: Reading! Skating. Going on pointless wandering walks in the Bazaar in the middle of the night. Learning random things. Spending time/hanging out with Caramel. Climbing the cliff. Sculpting.

Evan: Mining for gemstones. Reading the Arcanic Scriptures and poetry. Learning mythology. Practising and studying medicine. Experimenting with magic. Launching himself into the volcano. Participating in duels and weaponry/magic tournaments. Exploring the hedge mazes of his garden. Travelling. I could go on, this man has so many hobbies, it's ridiculous.

boom, surprise birthday party! how do they react to surprises?

Alan: This is actually a canon event that happens in ToV Volume 2. He doesn't like being surprised because it interferes with his daily routine. He prefers being told things in advance, but if he were to be surprised, he would accept it graciously and try to be as polite and appreciative as possible (he is incredibly stiff and everyone can sniff out from a mile away he's out of his element).

Evan: This man thrives off attention, but he's also a semi-master of Mensus magic, so it's not really possible to surprise him since he'll be able to read your mind accidentally and spoil it for himself. Still, he'll act surprised and then have the time of his life.

do they like to wear jewellery?

Alan: Exclusively wears the ring his dead mother left behind for him. He never takes it off. He adorns himself in nothing except for that.

Evan: This man is so constantly decked out, people start calling him Golden Boy because he's always covered in the gemstones he mined and the gold collars and cuffs he wears. He once had a crush on a girl so bad, when she gifted him a pair of earrings he admired during the Festival, he got his ears pierced the next day so he could wear them.

do they have neat or messy handwriting?

Alan: Neat. You could not put this man in any situation of urgency that would disrupt the script of his printing.

Evan: He's a doctor. What do you think?

what are the two emotions they feel the most?

Alan: Curiosity and admiration. Alan is quite literally known for being in awe of everything around him. Like a puppy wagging his tail, as Cara likes to put it.

Evan: Adrenaline, if that counts. Also, anxiety and love. He gets emotionally attached really easily, and lordie... Evan in love is my aesthetic. I literally have a Pinterest board dedicated to it. But he has a lot of fears from a lot of trauma, so he does get anxious really easily. He's learned to manage it though so he doesn't get riled up anymore once he's older. Therapy for the win, y'all. At least one of the characters went. 💀

do they have a favourite fabric?

Alan: Linen. Linen Linen Linen. He's a trousers boy.

Evan: Bedazzled sheer silky blouses. Whatever you call that fabric. And by bedazzled, I mean he custom-tailors them to be threaded with diamonds in every weave. When I say the man is extra, I mean EXTRA.

what kind of accent do they have?

Alan: Traditional commoner's Gich accent (Gich is the modern national language of Soilaila), but the formal dialect.

Evan: A heavy Zel'El accent, which is the ancient tongue spoken only by the gods. Where he learned that language, no one knows lol.

｡ ₊°༺❤︎༻°₊ ｡

Thanks again for the tag! I'll add the tags below:

@lunaeuphternal @the-golden-comet @renasdoodles @illarian-rambling @satohqbanana

@paeliae-occasionally @theink-stainedfolk @honeybewrites @drchenquill @aalinaaaaaa

@harps-for-days @frostedlemonwriter @did-i-do-this-write @zackprincebooks @hidden-dreamland

@mysticstarlightduck

[smokestarrules]

Please explain warrior nun to me. I wasn’t interested at first but you make it seem so cool I want to learn :)

I WILL explain it to you. Saddle up because I'm prepared to ramble. There will be spoilers. If you'd like another summary w/o spoilers, let me know!

First: our main character, Ava Silva. At the start of the show, she's a paraplegic and orphaned 19 year-old girl who is, quite literally, dead in the first scene. She is snarky, a little clueless but not innocent, and most importantly, she wants more than anything to live.

This is Sister Beatrice!!! She's the love interest, technically, but she's not the only one (just more of an important character than the other), and she's also so much more than that. She is a prodigious warrior who fights for the OCS; The Order of the Cruciform Sword, which is a sect of Catholic nuns that fight demons for the good of the people. She is good at everything with the exception of Not Being Gay, which is, incidentally, the reason she was sent to a Catholic boarding school in the first place. Suffice to say, her parents suck.

There's also a wide cast of incredible characters; we have (from right to left) Mary, who is The Coolest and also, somehow, more of an older sister figure than the actual sisters; Lilith, who's a bit of a bitch but we still love her, Father Vincent, who's also a bit of a bitch but we tolerate him, and then on the far left, there's Camila, who is simultaneously the Cutest and also the Smartest. (also not pictured here is Mother Superion, whom we also love.)

This show has so many good women characters. You will become obsessed with at least one of them. At least.

Essentially, Warrior Nun's plot depends on the use of the Halo, which is a literal Angel's Halo (or is it?) that fuses itself to the spine of one special nun, the Warrior Nun, who is then given the ability to see demons and also other various superpowers. However, because of its immense power, demons and other forces are constantly trying to seize the Halo for themselves, and due to a tragic series of events, a panicked nun has to give Ava the Halo.

Ava, who is dead at the time.

And it brings her back to life. Not only that, but it gives her the ability to walk for the first time since she was, like, four years old. Also, it gives her superpowers, too, but whatever.

So basically, Warrior Nun is about Ava trying to balance her will to live her life now alongside with the new duties that the OCS are trying to put on her. They can't take the Halo out, because it may kill her. Something something jesus parallels, something something taking the time to have the characters work things out for themselves, and you get this show. I cannot emphasize enough the character writing.

(Also it has one of the best sapphic slowburns I've seen in a show ever. They hit so many good tropes in such a well-paced manner. I can't even describe how well they're written. What the fuck.)

So. Watch Warrior Nun. We need a season 3!!

[aangelinakii]

LEMON AND TANGERINE, TANGERINE AND LEMON

in which the fruits and the cat cross paths

chapter : three

character : tangerine

fandom : bullet train

song : pretty girls make graves , the smiths

date : 18th june 2023

the first three or so minutes of the train's departure had gone smoothly. black cat was almost a quarter way through her box of pocky, and she had convinced herself that the time it had taken for her to choose a flavour as simple as strawberry was completely valid. if she'd chosen a flavour she ended up disliking, her whole mood for the rest of the mission would've been ruined, and therefore throwing her off track and negatively altering her performance. all this just to feel better about taking five minutes to make a decision on japanese snacks at a train station.

but things started to feel... iffy, when the two men who'd previously sat diagonally behind her, moved themselves to sit in the four-seater directly behind her. when she'd walked down the aisle looking for her seat before the train departed, she'd noticed a man in a furry brown jacket already sleeping, his head against the window. sure, she found it odd how he was already sleeping, and the train wasn't even moving yet, but she had greater things to worry about, so sat promptly in her seat without batting an eye.

"you're safe now," the same voice, whom she'd heard swear at the tall shaggy man before, spoke up, and black cat's chewing of strawberry-flavoured pocky slowed down in order to eavesdrop. "your father sent us."

"you idiots work for my father?" a groggy russian accent returned, a tone of exasperation apparent in his voice.

in black cat's line of profession, anyone who "works" for someone's father is never doing innocent business. unfortunately, some people's fathers are just into some crazy, messed up shit, and hire money-hungry men to do their dirty work. and if you were to say she was a hypocrite, she would disagree; if someone's father hires her, she does it for the experience, not for the money... but sometimes the money, too.

"technically, we're outside contractors."

that line was definitely a red flag.

black cat swallowed her mouthful of pocky and packed up her snacks, tucking them away in the pockets of her coat once again. "outside contractors" weren't a good sign, either. sure, she was one; in fact, she was completely independent in her line of work, until someone were to hire her. but when you're on a mission of your own, and in such a tight space where escapability is limited to one-minute stops every ten-or-so minutes, hearing the phrase, "outside contractors" was not a good look.

"i'm tangerine, and he's lemon."

and that was the confirmation.

before, she'd given the men the benefit of the doubt. you know, maybe they worked under a prestigious company owned by this man's father, or they'd been hired by someone's father to do some building work on their house. but those names, lemon and tangerine, weren't names a kind mother gave their children. they were codenames.

black cat knew well of codenames and aliases. i mean, you didn't think her parents named her that when she popped out the womb, did you? she'd heard all types of things: the white death, batman and superman, the chomper – hell, she'd even been paid to kill a gang member who went by the name of "peter piper." and now there was tangerine and lemon to add to the mix. these guys weren't going to make this mission easy for her, she suspected.

"right. your daddy hired us to get you out of the trouble you got yourself into, didn't you, naughty boy—"

the cockney man situated right behind black cat was cut off by the russian person, who was stuck wondering why these two fully grown men had such childish nicknames. you could sense the tension growing in the air between the trio as their nicknames were repeatedly pulled up as the topic of conversation.

"oh, fuckin' hell!" the man scoffed, and black cat felt his seat wobble against the back of hers. he clearly had a temper he couldn't control. not a good trait when you work in the art of espionage, or whatever it was he called himself, black cat thought. "it's not important, is it? what is important are the seventeen dead bodies we left getting you back from the triad that kidnapped you with the plans to ransom you to your extremely psychotic fucked-up father."

what a mouthful.

"actually, it's sixteen," the other man black cat recognised from the train station chimed in. his voice was calmer, lower, and in more control, compared to his yapping partner.

after a pause, filled with tension so thick in such a short period of time it would take a chainsaw to gnaw through it, the first man – tangerine – replied, his voice audibly tougher than before. "what's that, now?" it was clear to black cat that he didn't like being told he's wrong.

"sixteen kills, mate—"

"no, it was seventeen."

black cat rolled her eyes as she folded the train route map into the netting before her. these two partners seemed to be very comfortable talking about their kill count on a very public train.

rule number one of contract killing: don't talk about your job in a public area where people are bound to hear. people don't want to hear about that shit while they're trying to get to the place they need to go, talk to the people they need to talk to, do the things they need to do. and, quite obviously, it could possibly breach their operation, by disclosing such information, the wrong people could get involved. for all she cared she could use this against them, and devise her own plan to ruin their mission.

if the train ride got too boring, for the long ten-fifteen minutes she'd be there, she could mess with them a little, and maybe put some sense into their puny little brains that maybe they should be more cautious about the information they're talking about so loudly.

"hey, listen," the russian sighed, distracting the two fruits from their mini argument about how many people they'd killed, and if the civilian who'd been blown up by a car was their fault (which, if you asked for her opinion, black cat found extremely unprofessional; you're not supposed to get anybody else hurt who isn't worth the money you're getting at the end of the operation). "i'm just gonna get off at the next stop."

there was some rustling from the four-seater behind black cat as he was pushed back into his seat, followed by lemon telling him to get back into his seat, which was followed by another round of silence.

"do you know what they call your papushka?" tangerine asked, resetting the tone from the previous argumentative one.

"of course i fucking do."

"the white death," lemon stated, despite the russian man already explaining he knew.

the white death? these men worked for the white death, and this russian boy they had with him was his son?

big red flag.

black cat glanced down at her coat, pressing on the material softly as if to check the briefcase was still sitting beneath it. she tried to control her breathing, but nothing could stop her heart from increasing in pace. her mission just became ever so more difficult.

"our job is to keep you safe, and to recover the briefcase with the ransom money inside," tangerine began to explain. "and i plan on completin' my job, and keeping..." black cat felt him lean forward in his seat as he lowered his voice. "lemon?"

lemon hummed in reply.

"where's the briefcase?"

right next to me, black cat thought, blinking as she turned her head around to the seat beside her.

"oh, i stashed it," lemon replied casually, and black cat could picture him shrugging and crossing his arms, sitting more comfortably in his seat as his increasing confidence seeped through his veins.

tangerine's seat shifted again from behind her. "the case, lemon," he repeated, tone now serious and authoritative. "go get me the fucking case."

lemon sighed, clearly frustrated that his partner didn't trust him, and stepped down the aisle to the baggage storage between carriages two and three, where black cat had stolen their briefcase from.

as he approached the sliding automatic door, black cat craned her head into the aisle in curiosity, leaning out of her seat to watch him go. she was unsure whether to take her leave now, or to wait for him to get back with the decoy and leave discreetly with the real case.

a phone began buzzing, and black cat pressed a hand to the breast pocket of her blazer, making sure it wasn't her mobile, but tangerine stepped out of his seat, and answered the call.

he stood with his back to her, and she managed to take in the royal blue of his suit, and how perfectly tailored it was to his proportions. his hair was of a dark brown, slicked back well enough in a natural manner so that no strands came astray, but not in a way he looked overly-crisp, as though he'd applied countless amounts of hairspray to keep it looking perfect – you wouldn't believe the amount of greaseballs the woman had had to deal with who all thought that image was the peak of mens fashion.

"do you have white death's son?" a deep russian voice crackled from the other end of the line.

tangerine glanced behind him at the man that still remained seated. "what, you mean this dickhead with the silly face tattoos? yeah, he's sat right here."

"and the briefcase?"

"yes, of course i've got the case." tangerine dug his free hand into his tailored trouser pocket, and he swivelled his body to the door lemon had exited out of, and black cat peered into the aisle to follow suit.

through the window in the automatic door, a large brown bag was thrown to the wall with a bump, and lemon appeared, punching the air in a fit of anger, an outraged glint in his eye.

as the line beeped to an end, tangerine slowly removed the mobile from his ear. he'd seen lemon, too, she knew. and he set off down the aisle as a muffled voice chimed through the compartment, indicating the train's soon arrival to shinagawa station.

black cat decided this would be the perfect time to take her leave, and she pulled her coat off the case and took the handle in her hand. she stood up and pulled on her overcoat, holding the briefcase close to her body as she stepped out into the aisle.

she took a moment to shake her head, running a few fingers through the curls of her ponytail, and adjust her clothing so that she looked presentable and to avoid suspicion. the woman let out an exhale, glancing back at tangerine as he disappeared through the sliding door to see to his partner, and walked down the aisle in the opposite direction, and kept walking, until she was far enough down the line to not have any run-ins with the fruits.

she'd reached the end of the economy compartments, and the train came promptly to a stop.

but as she stepped on the pressure plate, and the automatic door zipped open, allowing her entry into the small purgatory between compartments, two figures fell into her; one dressed in all white, with curly brown hair and an arm raised over his head as he charged the other man, lengthy dirty blonde hair covered by a cream bucket hat, and a khaki overcoat.

the case flew from her grip as she was shoved into the other door, her temple pounding into the strong glass from the weight of the two men against her. with a huff, black cat pushed off the slick surface, her strength and momentum sending them off of her.

with the roar of a tiger, the man in white, taken with the momentum of her retaliation into the next door, grabbed the material of black cat's long coat as he fell. and black cat, taken with the white man, grabbed the material of the other man's khaki trench coat, dragging him into the mix as they all flew back-first through glass.

[lunarsilkscreen]

Queer Zelda

Miyamoto designed the hero of the game to be androgynous so that anygenderbody could imagine themselves as the Hero. (Well. Bi-gender continuum Hylian people anyway. That's why Ganon's the bad guy, he's neither Hylian nor on the bi-gender spectrum. #joking #orAmI)

There's a lot of topical things that can be said about the Zelda series, so I try to limit my scope when I write posts like these. I could fit so many tangents into this baby otherwise.

Everybody knows about Sheik and Girl-Link--Not to be Confused with Linkle, who is also a girl-link, but not Link in girl clothes. Even though she happens to also be wearing Girl clothes. I have theories about her, how she might be a maiden, or Zelda in Green clothes instead of her standard Hylian Blue. (And sometimes Pink. [Trans Zelda?]) And she's not to be confused with Tingle (or Twink-le, which is either how you describe starlight, or a whole NSFW section of the internet.)

Speaking of tangents...

Let me point out the scene where Link meets Zelda in Z64. "I hope he didn't see me/us." This could be interpreted as queer representation young children. Peter Pan is often played by young women in school plays, and then there's the whole interpretation of *only* queer kids enjoying theater in any aspect. AND then there's the whole spectrum of interpretations you can give to Peter Pan as a whole.

And then there's the hair-cutting ceremony in Japan. This started with Samurai who would cut their hair to depict the end of an era. Or end of their old life.

Life is measured in how long your hair is allowed to grow. And cutting it symbolized stepping into a new era.

But this is also depicted in a lot of Japanese Fiction as women growing out of their innocence. Because women with children also cut their hair to symbolize the *new life*.

This is a willful stepping out of the *girl roll* into the *man roll*.

In this context, Girl *is* childhood, and there is no difference between man and woman as older being. Which is a stark contrast to more western beliefs that suggests a clear separation of boy to man and girl to woman.

For women, this has a deeper context, that they (being women) have the option to stay in *girl hood* as a benefit given by biology and sociology (or the divine, depending on interpretation)

This is arguably why Peter Pan, is the boy who never grew up. He refused to take that *man hood* role in order to be a provider. To be a caretaker for the other *lost boys*.

(War is a terrible things that kills parents and leaves children without them)

That was a lot more than I thought I would have to explain to get to the next point:

Trans Ganon.

The Gerudo are depicted as a community of women led by a single ruler. And that one ruler is *allowed* to be the *only* man. Because only a Man can rule in a Patriarchy. And there isn't a benefit to multiple rulers *except* to cause infighting. So everybody else *must* be women.

This is why Girl-Link is allowed in the Gerudo city despite not technically being a Girl, and the Gerudo *already* know what's going on with him. Because dressing as a women, being a women, denotes subservience to the ruler. Who is the only Man allowed.

This is the masculine/feminine depiction in the yinyang and in the Bible. Why tribes were depicted as being *one man* the leader. And why tribeless "men" were remembered, despite being put through tortuous situations.

Because they didn't submit like the women did. (Note, women in this context is the negative use by masculine leaders who had their own way of thinking, not how I think the world should be. )

They didn't need to be taken care of by the systems in place, and like Moses, instead provided care and salvation.

(If I ever get any sort of notoriety, I'm going to be so cancelled.)

Speaking of Tangents...

So the Gerudo have a forced gender caste system. Where only the one ruler is allowed to be a Man. Zelda doesn't have any specific Gender, and can be either Man, Woman, or Shiek. Because all maidens, princes, or Princesses are Zelda.

This has a more complicated history that, from the perspective of the common people, all royalty are really men trying to be women (You know; "Liberals") But in all honesty, it's the stupidest thing based entirely on clothing and make-up.

But that also mirrors what the Gerudo do. All Gerudo are Ganon. All Hylians are Zelda. But there's always one who is neither Man, Nor Woman, Nor Shieka. (Not Ganon, not Zelda, Not Shiek)

And that is Link.

Despite being given he/him pronouns, Link is never given a gender. Because he is inherently Genderless. He is the *anybody* a stranger who hears the call to action and acts. The one who takes sword to the powerful, shields the weak, and cares for those who need it most.

The balance between both the Feminine that Hyrule depicts, and Masculine Ganon depicts.

(oh there's more)

[101flavoursofweird]

12. "There you are.” “where else would I be?” with Swift and anyone else (maybe another agent? Maybe Desmond or Leon. Your choice)!

((Thank you for the prompt! Sorry Claire isn’t technically an agent… but I got this TargentClaire AU stuck in my head and something possessed me to write it. I also wanted to see her interact with Swift, a fellow scientist and risk-taker :D))

Title: The Phoenix

Spoilers: For PL3 and slight spoilers for Azran Legacy

Set: An AU set after the explosion at the Institute of Polydimensional Physics. Claire, somehow, survives the experiment, thanks to Targent’s intervention. 

Warnings: Claire and Dimitri in Targent’s captivity… Targent threatening people, as they do… Dimitri going on a hunger strike, though not in great detail… Reference to dead characters… and reference to scars after accidents

“Ah— there you are…” 

Claire glanced up from the workbench as her supervisor (her warden) strode in to the lab. He was tall— taller than Dimitri— with a shock of blonde hair, and a scar running across his nose and his cheek bones.

That wasn’t what made him intimidating, though. (Claire had plenty of scars herself, since the accident…)

It was the way he looked down on anyone who didn’t agree with Targent’s ‘glorious mission’; how he talked about the Azran civilisation as if they were the masters of the universe…

Wouldn’t the Azran still be here, if that were the case?

“Where else would I be?” Claire responded flatly. She gestured around the lab— far larger, more orderly, and more advanced than what she was used to— but it still felt like a prison.

It was a prison— she must never forget that.

After her ‘rescue’ from the ruins of her old lab at the institute, she had been brought here— to Obsidian Tower, in the Nest.

When Claire had awoken, still heavily bandaged and hooked up to painkillers, her ‘saviours’ had introduced themselves as Targent.

Despite her benumbed state, Claire knew of the agency already (Hershel had warned her in the future)… 

Still, she’d nodded along as they explained who they were, how they had saved her, and why they had moved her to their headquarters— to facilitate Claire’s recovery with their cutting-edge technology.

Claire had thanked them and asked if her fiancé, Hershel, was here. (She needed to tell him she was alive!)

He was not, but her colleagues, Bill and Dimitri, were…

Like Claire, Bill had been flown in to the Nest— though, he had been somewhat conscious and he had made a faster recovery than her…

Dimitri had been entirely conscious when the agents had stormed in to the smoking remains of their old lab. He could recall how he was dragged away from Claire’s body, before he was bundled into an airship with Bill.

Whenever Claire questioned this, Targent’s medical staff would dismiss it; perhaps Mr. Allen had hit his head…

Later, when Claire was well enough to speak with Dimitri alone, he had told her the whole story, including how Bill had been in contact with Targent beforehand. Targent had financed the time travel project, as a matter of fact!

(Claire had pretended to be surprised.)

Targent weren’t primarily invested in time travel, but they were obsessed with Azran technology… and the time machine had just so happened to contain an Azran energy source.

While she was stuck in the medical ward, Claire had been given books on the Azran (propaganda) to read. Her requests to call Hershel, her parents or someone outside the Nest had been constantly overlooked.

When she was strong enough to leave her hospital bed, she had been given a dull room next to Dimitri’s. It had felt like an upgrade, if only for the privacy she was granted.

Still, Claire was not allowed to contact Hershel. She kept pleading, but Targent argued they needed to keep her safe. They’d revealed that nine people had died as a result of the institute explosion. 

Nine innocent bystanders, dead, because of Claire and her colleagues’ disastrous experiment.

It wasn’t the first time Claire had heard that, but the horror still felt fresh— not helped at all by Targent’s insistence that the authorities were after her, Dimitri and Bill.

Claire needed a distraction while she figured out how to contact Hershel, or how to escape without putting him in danger.

Targent had offered her work in the labs. Claire had accepted.

So, here she was.

“I thought you were with your colleague,” Claire’s supervisor drawled, making his disdain for Dimitri clear.

Claire bit her tongue. As much as she wanted to defend Dimitri, insubordination would not put her in Targent’s good books.

She needed to play the part of a bright, but demure scientist investigating the Azran.

“I did visit Dimitri earlier,” she admitted.

She had taken some bread rolls to his room, but Dimitri was determined to continue with his hunger strike. He looked like a scarecrow, lying across his bed in his baggy blue lab coat.

Claire, too, had taken to wearing a blue coat like the other scientists— if only to protect herself in the labs and to conceal her scars.

Dimitri hadn’t stepped foot in the labs yet.

Apparently, Dimitri didn’t have anyone Targent could threaten on the outside. 

The only people he cared about— Claire and Bill (debatably)— were trapped with him, and his life’s work had gone up in flames.

Why should he comply with Targent? Claire wouldn’t— if she didn’t have her family, her friends and Hershel to think about.

Still, Claire hoped Dimitri would concede soon— at least when it came to eating!

Without Dimitri— without a friend she could trust and talk to properly— Claire would go mad in this place.

Neither of them had seen Bill since his ‘promotion’, but maybe that was for the best. Bill had neglected to mention that they were in the pockets of a military organisation!

No wonder he’d been so eager to test the time machine…

(Ten years later, Bill would be dead.)

Dimitri was still under the assumption that Bill had tricked Claire into entering the machine— as if she hadn’t noticed its flaws. Claire hadn’t corrected this assumption because, well… 

How would she survive if Dimitri shunned her? How would Claire discuss escape plans with him? If the opportunity arose, if Dimitri wasn’t ready, would Claire have to leave him behind?

(She hadn’t seen Dimtitri, or herself, in the future, but she had found Hershel, with a wedding ring on his finger, and two children in tow. One of them was Luke, Clark and Brendas’ son. The other was a teenage girl, Flora.

Though Claire hadn’t asked for details— she’d had to deter Flora from telling her too much— Hershel had promised her everything would work out in the end. 

And he had instructed her to find one Desmond Sycamore…)

Her supervisor’s grunt dragged her back to the present. “You seem distracted.”

For some time, Claire had been staring down at the work bench— at a purple Azran crystal. She glanced up at her supervisor sharply.

“I’m— just worried about Dimitri,” she stammered. 

A scoff. “If he wants to stay cooped up in his room, that’s his choice.”

Claire frowned slightly.

Even if Dimitri left his room, like Claire, his freedom wouldn’t extend any further than the upper level of Obsidian Tower.

Claire could solve the puzzle on the lift’s control panel— Targent knew that— but Claire also knew what the punishment would be if she got caught.

She didn’t care what they did to her. She had already risked her life by stepping into the Time Machine, and now, she was paying for it with her servitude to Targent.

While she didn’t mind doing mundane jobs around the lab, sooner or later, her superiors could order her to do something dangerous.

Another violent experiment… A lethal weapon… A legacy that could reshape the world in Targent’s image…

This was why she needed Dimitri’s cooperation.

Maybe, together, when it was dark, they could climb down the Azran pillar…?

“He really is missing out,” Claire sighed wistfully. She picked up the Azran crystal— feigning fascination— inspecting it as she had seen Hershel do with ancient artefacts.

“Spectacular, isn’t it?” Her supervisor peered at the crystal with her.

Claire nodded. “I was wondering— if there might be a way to access the power within this crystal?” 

She let remorse bleed into her voice. “Back at our lab, in London, we used all these cables to connect the… the time machine up to the energy source, but the cables weren’t… strong enough…” Her fist clenched around the crystal.

Claire’s supervisor hummed. “I will acquire you some cables— far stronger than the equipment at your pitiful institute, I can assure you.” He smirked. 

Claire was about to let out a grateful gasp,  but on second thought, that might be a bit much…

“Thank you…” Claire sniffed, instead. “But please don’t talk about the institute like that. It was my first lab and I have a lot fond memories, despite the… accident.”

That part was true. Claire missed their dingy old lab. She missed working with Dimitri and Bill. She missed the street where the institute was based…

She missed Hershel, waiting outside the building to walk her home. She missed curling up on the settee with him in the evenings.

She missed her life. 

Claire’s eyes were damp with real tears.

Much to her embarrassment, her supervisor noticed. His smirk softened into an expression of concern.

“There’s no need to be miserable now,” he murmured.

Claire waited for him to proclaim that she was part of Targent… something, something about her joining a noble cause in their search for the Azran Legacy… and she should just forget about her boring old life.

But he was silent for a few moments. Then, he removed his dark sunglasses. Without them, his scar seemed a lot less obvious, because Claire was drawn more to his eyes— one green and one blue.

Of course, Claire had heard of heterochromia, but she had never met anyone with the condition before.

Her supervisor gave her a crooked smile. “As a child, people used to tease me about my eyes… As a young man, I gained this scar…” He scratched his nose. 

Claire felt the left half of her body itch; along her face, her arm, and her leg. The side of her that had suffered most from burns after the explosion.

“…and people started to fear me instead,” her supervisor finished.

“Where is that scar from?” Claire whispered. “I-if you don’t mind me asking…”

He took no shame in sharing the story, though his eyes gained a faraway look. “I was involved in an accident years ago— a cave in during an expedition.”

(Hershel had lost his high school friend during an ‘expedition’.)

Perhaps her supervisor— one of her captors— was fishing for sympathy, but 

Claire couldn’t help mumbling, “I’m sorry…”

Her supervisor blinked, his eyes hardening. He shook his head. “It’s in the past now. What matters is that I survived, just as you survived.”

Claire found herself agreeing. “Yes…”

“Like a phoenix rising from the ashes,” her supervisor recited.

At that, Claire couldn’t help snorting. “I wish!” How she wished she could sprout wings of fire, soar out of Obsidian Tower, and leave it burning behind her.

“You could be the Phoenix,” her supervisor suggested. “That could be your code name.”

“Hm…” Claire pursed her lips. 

She had noticed how many Targent agents were named after birds.

Did Claire really want to have a name in this archaeology-bird-obsessed cult?

“It’s too… grandiose for me,” Claire said carefully.

“I don’t think so,” her supervisor said. “You were the first human test subject of a Time Machine— that’s more experience than most recruits bring to the table.”

Maybe if Claire could enter his circle of trust, then she could find her way out…

Claire stitched on a smile. “I suppose you’re right.”

“Phoenix it is then!” Smiling in return, he put his glasses back on.

“What’s your codename?” Claire wondered, while she still had his consideration.

“Swift.” Small, agile birds— similar to swallows.

“I… didn’t expect that,” Claire said. For him, she’d thought of an eagle or a falcon; something large and intimidating.

Swift offered no further explanation. He turned away from her and strode to the door. “I’ll get you those cables,” he called over his shoulder. “Until then, keep up the good work.”

“Yes, Swi— I mean, sir!” Claire’s gaze returned to the Azran crystal, but her mind was already formulating an escape plan.

She would be the Phoenix, but not under Targent’s command.

Soon, she would break out, bringing Dimitri with her, and they would run. She would get in touch with her loved ones, somehow, and she would warn them.

She might not be able to reunite with Hershel right away, but at least he would be safe, while she tracked down Desmond Sycamore.

Claire was going to survive this.

-

“I’m aware that you are the one who provided Claire Foley with the means of escaping,” Bronev grumbled, glaring at Swift from behind his desk.

“Forgive me, sir,” Swift muttered. 

All he had given her was a reinforced cable. She had climbed down the Azran column— Targent’s most sacred artefact— with a cable, and the help of her colleague. 

“We managed to capture her colleague,” Swift pointed out, “Dimitri Allen.”

“That does not excuse your glaring oversight, Swift.”

“No, sir.” Swift bowed his head. 

He had let his guard down for a new recruit— for a woman who had formerly been a lab assistant!

A scientist who might have travelled through time.

How much had Claire Foley kept hidden from them? Had she recognised Targent from the start? Did she know what would become of their agency in future? 

Would they unlock the Azran Legacy? Would Claire Foley stand in their way? 

Despite her betrayal, Swift still regarded her as a burning phoenix. A bird who had broken out of her perceived captivity, and left a blazing trail in her wake.

A cunning adversary for Targent. For Swift.

Swift had expected some sort of punishment for his mistake, but instead, Bronev said, “Take a wing of assassins to London. Find Hershel Layton.”

“What then, sir?” Swift said.

Bronev smiled. “Wait for Claire Foley to return home.”

[casliveblog]

Custom Toonami Block Week 173 Rundown

The Witch from Mercury: Okay so I have a notoriously hard time of comprehending Gundam plots so if I get anything wrong… that’s just how it’ll have to be. So it’s the old chesnut Gundam franchise have been milking for forty years now… Earth vs Space, like seriously I haven’t even seen all the Gundam serieses and I am SO sick of setup and everyone philosophizing about how going into space gives people superpowers and shit like can Gundam as a series think of anything else to do? But yeah apparently in this verse they originally were making prosthetics for people that had muscle dystrophy and shit from being in space and then as someone always does they went ‘cool but what if we did WAR with it?’ and now regular mobile suits and Gundams are just quietly being built in the background even though no official war is going on and the Gundams make people fucking die from a combination of information overload similar to the Zero System in Wing and that shit in Pacific Rim that made it so you needed two people to coordinate motor functions of a huge robot. Enter Eri, tiny girl with a mysterious connection to the big Barbie Gundam being built by her parents who are definitely not surviving this episode. It’s her birthday because this backstory is REALLY gonna kick her in the metaphorical nuts and the Space People have decided ‘Gundams kill their own guys, I’M supposed to kill their guys, that’s not fair bro’ which, A+ politicianing, no notes, I’m sure that’d go over well with a CEO just shouting about how he wants to kill people on the battlefield before they can nobly sacrifice themselves and that’s why he has to shutdown the big superweapons will go over great, like anime politicians can just get away with saying the wildest shit while real politicians come under fire if you don’t say the word god enough in a speech. But yeah instead of just shutting them down and destroying their research they just fucking come out swinging and do a full Space Colony ARK and murder everyone in the station (I think these guys were Earth-Alligned despite being in a space station idk this is why I have a hard time keeping track of this shit) like I feel like that was overkill and just PR nosedive for no reason but Eri needs a tragic backstory. Like is there functionally any reason they had to go murder everyone instead of just going ‘your shit’s illegal now, hand over your research OR will kill you’ instead of going ‘hand over your shit AND we’ll kill you’? Like I guess they’re doing a scorched earth approach and wanting to make sure and are prolly gonna say the unarmed scientists resisted to a level that required lethal force but that really seemed unnecessary, like you probably could’ve tied that up in courts and had them hand over all their shit instead of murder. While all this is going on Eri’s in the Barbie Gundam and surprise surprise she can get it to work when no one else can, her dad and the random technician lesbian take out the non-Barbie gundams and murder everyone except for the angsty pretty boy in the obligatory regal-looking suit that’s fancier than normal but technically not a gundam to get around plot shit while Eri and her mom get away in the Barbie Gundam which I’m honestly kind of surprised Eri’s mom gets to live I was expecting a full familial wipe from a backstory going this hard on the trauma and eerie innocence of its main character.

Inuyasha The Final Act: After the events with Moryomaru, Koga’s joined the group and Shippo notes how it changes the dynamic now that he’s actively stoking the Inuyasha/Kikyo/Kagome love triangle and Shippo doesn’t like it but I kinda do, it’s kinda funny to have a party member that isn’t super friendly with the others. Meanwhile Naraku reabsorbs Onigumo’s heart, theorizing that if he can’t directly kill Kikyo without it, he can use the overt shittiness of humanity to corrupt the purifying light she puts into Kohaku’s shard to try and purify him. So that gives him the ability to shoot spiderwebs of bad vibes at people to corrupt them mentally since I guess Onigumo’s fine with mindbreaking Kikyo even if he can’t overtly kill her. Kikyo’s absorbed Miroku’s miasma and give her own was never fully healed she’s like 75% poison at this point and basically half dead so she has to ditch Kohaku so he doesn’t get corrupted, luckily Sesshomaru takes over the Kohaku Babysitting duties for the time being. Meanwhile Kagome is once again the only one who can save Kikyo and we have to play the song and dance of ‘does Kagome want Kikyo to literally die for a love triangle?’ again even though we’ve established time and time again the answer is fucking no, though this time we have Naraku actively pumping bad vibes into her to at least give her doubts while she goes to get the only bow that can purify Kikyo. This part’s kinda trippy since we see a bunch of illusions of Kikyo and Inuyasha and they keep going ‘no it’s real this time’ like an episode of Rick and Morty until we show that Kikyo and Inuyasha are still outside the shrine so absolutely none of it was real. Kagome has to AGAIN reject the idea of wanting her romantic rival to literally die though this time coming out on the side of her and Kikyo being equals because she’s sick of feeling like a Johnny come lately trying to vault over the First Girl and has a whole series of character development to relate to Inuyasha with so that’s a nice little moment of her in-universe being sick of the fucking endless tests of her heart, like Kagome’s fundamentally a good girl and yeah constantly getting asked this question has gotta be grating when it’s something she barely ever thought about.

Castlevania: We get Hector’s backstory now so we have all the pieces on the humans Dracula’s recruited while Carmilla’s still stirring the shit trying to get someone to go after the Belmont house and I’m still not entirely sure if she’s the one that will cause infighting that will ruin the bad guys’ plans or if she’s the more dangerous villain ready to take over for the more sympathetic Dracula The Rock style. Meanwhile Trevor’s group do come across the Belmon treasure trove and it is kinda sweet to see him reminisce over his childhood and family legacy despite how much he seemed to disown them in season 1. He gets a cool new weapon and Sypha gets to read books and shit but Alucard’s basically walking through the vampire version of the holocaust museum so he’s more than a little freaked out. Back at Castle Castlevania Godbrand’s a bit concerned that human genocide is kinda like cow genocide in that it makes everything kinda shitty on the food chain and Dracula just wants to be done with humanity. Their interaction cues us that Dracula’s actually kinda pulling a better-explained Raizen from YYH and slowly starving despite still being ridiculously powerful and may be plotting to let vampires die out with humans so everything’s just a quiet empty void (like I think vampires can still survive without humans but it’s a lot less pleasant so idk if a vampire genocide is really in the cards but it’s not something people are clamoring for). Still Carmilla’s just here to play the Starscream and take things over so I guess get ready for Carmillavania in Season 3.  

Jujutsu Kaisen: So turns out Megumi’s technique is like Pokemon and you have to fight the big monsters before you get to capture them and send them out for you and getting help means you don’t get the capture but you do get to try again if you need to and there’s a super secret legendary pokemon that no one’s every caught before and actually killed a Gojo-level guy in the past, though it obviously kills the person summoning it first. So much for Megumi being all ‘I’m not throwing my life away’ a few episodes ago because his first response to being attacked by a C-tier asshole is summoning the Ultra Necrozma nuke. I assume this is the technique that he’s been talking about all those times we’ve gone ‘oh he’s gonna do a big attack’ except probably the time against Todo because that wouldn’t make any sense but given the mass carnage here I’m kinda glad he didn’t pull it out until now because it definitely would’ve murdered a fuckton of people in the process. Sukuna steps in because Megumi doesn’t technically die until hand-hold guy dies so as long as he’s able to keep them alive while fighting Ultra Necrozma here everything’s cool. The rest of the episode is basically just a ridiculous slugfest between Sukuna and Ultra Necrozma because this guy’s like Amazo from Justice League and adapts to any and all attacks so the only way to beat it is to obliterate it on an atomic level with something it’s never seen before. Realizing and implying there is something sneaky about his ‘cut anything forever’ attack, Sukuna uses his Domain which is basically like sticking something in a blender combined with that glitch in OoT that’s just infinite sword swings and for good measure hits it with the fire arrow thing from last time to make sure it can’t regenerate. The end result basically turns Shibuya into Made in Abyss with a giant fuckoff hole in the center. He gets Megumi to safety and kills hand-holding guy FINALLY and then he just hands consciousness off back to Yuji who now remembers EVERYTHING from the past three episodes or so all at once and gets flashes of the hundreds of thousands of deaths his body is responsible for. So… yeah, that’s rough buddy.

Delicious in Dungeon: Just getting this out of the way but this is another of those ‘have you ever played an RPG before?’ anime that is ridiculously video gameified and kind of relies on all the tropes you already know about games for its worldbuilding and like luckily it’s charming enough on its own to not have that wreck the show for me but the over-reliance on making every fantasy setting a video game is REALLY a pet peeve of mine. But yeah, this series is rather silly, Laios’s sister Falin gets eaten by a dragon and there’s a medium-level urgency to get her back before she’s digested. Like the stakes are really confusing because several characters make it very clear how important getting her back is but part of the comedy seems to be how they’re not in a huge hurry and stop for food every five minutes, plus it’s not entirely clear if this is one of those video game fantasy settings that has no consequences for dying since they seem kind of chill about finding corpses and Marcille refers to a life-threatening situation being her ‘first time’ dying despite there being graveyards and shit so this is the kind of shit that really bugs me about video game-style fantasy worlds and I assume it’ll get explained later but it gets under my skin. Still the whole thing basically turns into a Food Wars episode as Laios is very passionate about monsters like in a Garou-level sense of just being hyperfixated but also has no idea how to go through the manual skill needed to actually cook them which is strange given he seemed to be kind of looking for an excuse to do this for years. Still, luckily they find Senshi, a guy whose whole deal is having already done this for years and basically treats it like a Martha Stewart show and it’s pretty funny watching them meet halfway between Food Wars and Toriko. Like there’s not much more to it than that, they make some scorpion soup and some vegetable tart and Marcille gets an obligatory tentacle scene though it’s not protracted and doesn’t have any fanservice shots so I get the feeling it was just something to fuel fanart as opposed to actually showing anything which is an interesting way to take things, let the R34 machine run itself without having to dirty their own hands. It’s fun, the setting is one of my least favorite things about modern anime and the tone is kind of confusing but I’m sure that’ll even out with time, I am enjoying it thus far.

Frieren: Beyond Journey’s End: The first bit of the episode is a little adventure developing the new group dynamic now that Stark has joined and Fern isn’t really sure what to do with him. Frieren gets to meet some more of the people touched by her adventure and the far-reaching festivals made in honor of their deeds. The real meat of the episode is in the second part though and we get some really good stuff here. The group enters a new town when Frieren senses demons and goes into attack mode, but turns out these demons wear clothes and shit and are all fancy and the like, being ambassadors to try peace talks with the village. Since Frieren just attacked a foreign ambassador they throw her right the fuck in jail and Fern gives her the scoop that one of the Demon King’s generals took over after he died and is now leading the charge but the ambassadors have decided that peace may be an option. Frieren is ridiculously racist against demons but also kinda describes how they kinda deserve it by telling a story of a demon girl that was trusted by a community only to murder more people and only using sympathetic words to save herself from attacks. Or at least that’s how Frieren sees things, the real story is the girl was taken in by the town and still hated for the people she had previously killed so in a truly utilitarian sense she stole a replacement child for the one she’d murdered just to get their racist asses off her backs and the evil Frieren sees in her is an ignorance of emotion, someone that’s not necessarily good or bad and is an alien to human connections acting in ways that appear horrendous to those that have them. Someone just like Fern. That’s kind of the part that gets me, like earlier this same episode we see how foreign basic social skills are to Fern and Frieren herself and granted they’re not murdering people but it’s the same kind of not fully understanding people thing that throws off the ‘measure of a man’ speeches because if you say someone that lacks compassion or social understanding is a monster what happens when a human shares those qualities, someone who’s antisocial or autistic and can’t be bought in by the ‘love makes us human’ answer to the kind of sentient being whose life we should or shouldn’t value, if that’s where we’re going with this I’m really excited. Still for the time being the demons are right dicks and manipulate the guards with all the right words of ‘oh but we’ve suffered too, let’s have peace’ that would absolutely wreck any Naruto-minded Talk no Jutsu protagonist despite demons literally not having families (and this seemingly crucial fact apparently not being widely known). Turns out the ambassadors’ plan is to make peace and then have the town lower its barrier so they can burn it to the ground which… doesn’t make any fucking sense like it’s not like you’re disarming a weapon you’re asking them to take down a purely defensive shield that can’t actually hurt anybody and promising ‘we won’t attack bro’ without giving any sign of good faith on your end, might as well ask them to tear down their walls like that probably protects them from non-demon creatures and judging by last episode is a crucial part of border control, like that’s a dumb plan. It’s frustrating because their emotional manipulation is ridiculously good but their actual plan doesn’t make any sense. Still this complicated situation is about to get a lot simpler because one of the junior ambassadors just fucking barges into the dungeon, kills a guard and is ready to kill Frieren, like these guys are so fucking dumb even if Frieren wasn’t a demi-god how are you going to explain a dead guard outside the cell while the fugitive elf died in the cell like you just blew your whole dumb barrier-lowering plan because you couldn’t think of a diplomatic way to get in to see the prisoner and had to kill her right fucking now.

Vinland Saga: Thorfinn and Snake continue their fight and are surprisingly evenly matched despite Thorfinn just using his fists and not being as small and nimble as he was when he first developed his knife style. Thorfinn isn’t defeated but does lose the battle of the terrain when Snake is able to move over to the cart and get to Gardar. He makes a good point that he can’t justify just letting Gardar go since he really cares about his whole crew and taking anything less than revenge would be an insult. Now obviously this is still wrong but making the ‘an eye for an eye leaves everyone blind’ argument is a little difficult when you’re in Viking times and have like five seconds before this guy stabs him. Snake starts making plans of what to do now that Thorfinn and Arnheid have disobeyed him and Gardar just… pops up out of the cart like a daisy and stopped the sword with his astonishing pecs or some shit because he gets Snake in a sleeper hold and knocks him out. Arnheid talks him down from killing Snake and Gardar’s still gonna die anyway so the rest of the episode is just a big schmaltzy sendoff for Gardar and all the regrets he’s had in his life and it’s a pretty cool sequence for someone whose character development mostly came from other people. Like just saying, Askeladd was basically the main character for a while and all he got was a final speech and Gardar gets a whole dream sequence of finding his obviously dead son. Still now we’re in the weird position of Arnheid being taken by Ketil’s guards and Ketil himself coming home to find his bottom bitch and his favorite slave tried to start a revolt over a guy he’s never heard of while war with the king is looming on the horizon, so… awkward, I guess.

[minas-diary]

Crew of light as dogs...

Based on this post. Exactly what it sounds like. Some fluff to aid you all in getting through the Droughtula.

I would like to thank @re-dracula for being absolutely brilliant and thank @victoriantheorist14, @see-arcane, @marghen and @garnetsfists for their service to the Dracula (1897) fandom at this time.

I would also like to highlight my friends, @zoophagist, @wcstenra, @carpathianprince @gingerhastoomanyobsessions @the-brat-prince-1760 and @withinycu, we shall survive the droughtula. 💞

Disclaimer: contains vague spoilers for the book Dracula (1897). Proceed no further baby bats. 🦇

1. Mina Murray/Mina Harker - beagle. - the most intelligent character in the novel, other than Jonathan the primary hunter of Dracula. Beagles are known well for their intelligence and ability to hunt.

2. Jonathan Harker - Labrador retriever. - A sporting and family dog, thoroughly charming and intelligent but understated to a point. Just like our dear friend Jonathan. Can spot red flags from a good distance, they however, can’t always act to protect themselves.

3. Lucy Westenra - Yorkshire terrier - charming, intelligent, earnest, would not deliberately hurt anyone and amiable. Just like our ingenue, Lucy.

4. Van Helsing - Dutch Shepard - a herding dog, somewhat parental, Dutch, clever and known to read signs and cues very well.

5. Arthur Holmwood - papillon - charming, upper class, ridiculously cute, and known for their good hair and most thorough innocence and good intentions.

6. Quincey Morris - German Shepard - a ranch dog, strong, steady, versatile, hard working, earnest and loyal to the end, just like our American cowboy.

7. John/Jack Seward - Affenpinscher - a German dog originally bred to kill rats, awkward looking, small, and hard to find in the 21st century. Some may consider them to off putting but if you utilized correctly a useful set of paws, or hands to have on one’s team.

8. Not technically in the polycule but he gets love here.

R. M Renfield - Basenji - an usual dog, known for being “barkless” or “voiceless” in dog terms, often wrongly perceived as lacking substantial will or helpless. This is in fact, untrue, rather than silent this dog “yodels” “sings” and “sirens.” Useful as hunting dogs as Renfield is, despite circumstances useful to our vampire hunting polycule/crew. Basenji often alert their owners of danger and send signals, albeit in no traditional way. What Basenji sound like.

[iamadart]

Yandere bestfriend // Lovesick ♡

The thought of having a yandere bestfriend might seem like a fanfiction, but for you it come true, bestfriend are the one who technically know everything thing about you. And that was true you have never kept a secret from you're bestfriend, because you have no reason to.

He smile at you as you smile back, he seem normal but he isn't when you touch his hand he felt like he was getting electrocute. Sometimes he couldn't help but steal from you, but bestfriend stealing thing are fine for you at least, but the thing he did with those things of your's are disgusting, you never judge him, and that was a lie you always judged him but he seem to not care. Oh he accidentally touch your chest, a slap on the face and you forgive him, it felt nice for him at least being able to sleep on you're bed with no care, calling you names for fun* kissing your cheek he couldn't believe it neither, a guy or girl too close to you? No problem he can just simply say shit about them and now you hate them. You always believed in his lies well who wouldn't believe their bestfriend, most of you're attention belong to him as he was always by your side. Even you're parents like him, he act so innocent in front of them playing the prince charming.

You want to chill inside rather than going out? No problem this man got you, he's your bestfriend after all plus he know you good, what do you want to watch? K-drama, anime, move? you want to watch something he doesn't like? Say less this man would still watch it he know you well and he know the fact that you'll fall asleep fast, unless you are energetic as hell, he like cuddling with you and he can always used an excuse like, kissing a girl that is my bestfriend not on the lip is ok, that's one of the word he used plus he have no shame. Someone is harassing you? oh don't worry... He'll just spread rumors and the guy or girl get beaten up, those rumors he made up aren't that good everyone believe him, "he rape a girl/boy" he told someone and word spread fast, the next day the person hang themselves or beaten up they never survived. It won't be long till you are his. Lots of pictures of you in his phone and he show you, you were actually happy that he took pictures of you unlike other friends and the pictures look actually nice. He like using hammer as he is weird that's what you say to him as a joke, its 3 in the morning and you are still awake? he break in through your window and scold you for being up late, other started to catch up with him as they realize he was quite obsessed with you. But they never told you rather they want to mind their own business than anything else.

[bookersebastien]

After the Rain (Buck x Eddie)

happy birthday to one of my favorite people and someone im so lucky to call my friend @kate-sheffield 

our conversations are always the best inspiration, ily

warnings: mention of death, mention of miscarriage

It's late afternoon when Bucks hangs up the phone, the rays of sunlight splashed over the table are slowly turning golden as they fade to make way for the coming moonlight and the meteorologist is on tv talking about possible rain hitting the LA area but he can barely hear it now. Everything had gone suddenly quiet, brought to a faint hum except the roaring of the blood pounding in his ears. His hands felt like they were numb, he could no longer feel the table beneath his palm and his fingertips were tingling.

The baby was gone.

The firefighter onesie was still upstairs in the fire truck gift bag, tucked carefully into the corner of his closet. He was waiting for the baby shower to give it to Connor and Kameron. He even got orange tissue paper to match the little flames on the side. Just a couple weeks away from finding out the sex of their baby, not that either of them cared anyway and now they would never know. 'Some kind of chromosomal anomaly,' is what Connor said it was. The gift sat upstairs now, what was supposed to be a celebration of a new family was now an adorable testament to his never-ending list of failures. He wondered why he even let himself get his hopes up.

He found himself half drunk on Eddie's doorstep a few hours later, sorrow and anger burned off already on a bottle of whiskey and a bruised hand, now he was sick of being alone. It must've been late, Buck wasn't completely sure, but Chris was already in bed so they stood in the kitchen while Buck slurred through the story of getting the call from Connor. They had decided to adopt now, it would help a child in need and relieve themselves from the pain and pressure that's built up from every failed step to becoming parents so far.

"I don't think I realized how much I wanted it, you know? Like I built it up in my head of this idea of a family and now I don't know what to do. I was going to be a father and now I have nothing." Buck sipped from the glass of water Eddie had given him and he could feel the ache in head recede a little. Eddie was now watching him through narrowed eyes, arms crossed as he leaned in the doorway while Buck sat at the counter, head laying heavy in his hand.

"Listen Buck, you have every right to your emotions. This is the kind of news any parent fears and they are your friends, and I know how badly you wanted to help them but please I hope you understand that this was not going to make you a father. That wasn't going to be your kid and it wasn't your family. It was theirs," Eddie spoke, barely managing to bite back his annoyance and something else Buck was in no state to understand, and then quickly turned to rummage through the fridge, the action not disguising the tense set to his shoulders.

"Well, I mean not technically. I know that but-"

"Do you actually know that Buck? Do you? Because in my opinion someone who knew that wouldn't even use the word father to describe themselves in this situation and would definitely not have bought an LAFD onesie for a kid that wasn't yours." He wiped at his face before turning to shut the fridge with a loud thud, his eyes staring hard at the wall behind Buck.

"I mean I thought it would be cute, it doesn't mean anything," Buck replied, his head was too fuzzy for this conversation and he was beginning to feel the anger rising in his chest again. He thought Eddie would be more understanding, or at least less hostile.

"Normally no. Could be a cute gift for the kid of a college friend, yeah that's true but I know you Buck. I heard it in your voice when you called and said you were going to be a father. You let yourself get too invested. This gift coming from you is not as innocent as you want to act like it is. It is forging a connection to something and people you have no right to try and make." Eddie's voice rose slightly and he instinctively took a glance down the hall, where they could both hear Chris turning in his sleep.

Buck watched him as he paced further into the kitchen and farther from the door, but he noticeably stayed as far from Buck as he could manage, arms coming back over his chest. Buck knew he shouldn't say anything but he's never been one to necessarily control his impulses and the words came tumbling out, "The baby is gone Eddie. I know it's their family that's affected but I lost something too okay?! I don't know if I'm ever going to have my own family, my own real family and it felt like this was my chance and now I don't know if I will ever get another one. And now it's like I'm alone again."

"Stop talking like that!" Eddie's voice came out as a hiss. His eyes were daggers, holding Buck's in place like it was against his throat. "Stop acting like you are some lone wolf kicked out of his pack. I know the stuff with your parents was shitty, I know that. But please stop acting like you are alone in this world, like you don't have a family. I can't believe you would even say that. You have Maddie back in your life and a niece for god's sake! You have all of us at the firehouse, the whole team is your family Evan!"

"It's not the same-"

"As what? Having your own child? It wasn't your kid Buck! Besides, if you think for one second Christopher doesn't think of you as family, then you are not as observant as you like to think. You may not be a father, but you have become like a dad to him over the years and imagine how he'd feel to hear you throwing him, throwing us away like that. I cannot believe you. I thought we were your family, what else has all this time together been?" His face changed then, the tension left his shoulders and he made eye contact again they were almost pleading.

"I..." He had about a million thoughts running through his head, but this conversation had gone so different than he'd imagined that he couldn't even think of how he wanted to respond.

"Listen, it's late, I think you should leave."

And that was it for that night. Buck left in an Uber and woke up the next morning with an intense hangover and an ache in his chest he didn't understand. He spent the day trying to get ahold of Eddie, calls and texts were left unanswered and he was greeted by an empty driveway after he tried for drastic measures. That was two days ago and still no sign of him, he even had his work shifts changed so he never has so much as caught a glimpse of him.

"I mean I get what Eddie is saying but I feel like he's acting like I'm not allowed to have my own feelings about this. I can feel sad right?" He meant it as a rhetorical question but it came out more desperate than he intended so for a moment it just hung in the air between them. He and Hen were sitting in his kitchen enjoying dinner from the Thai place down the street and he was suddenly very thankful she agreed to eat at his place as his voice grew louder.

"I don't think that's what Eddie is upset about," she replied like she expected him to say this, and Buck guessed his insistence they have dinner was less casual than he wanted it to sound because he really did want to talk to someone about it. Someone who wasn't Eddie, or Maddie because he knew she would agree with Eddie.

He had barely touched his food since it arrived, only picking at his noodles and taking small bites. "That's that it seemed like he was mad about Hen. I mean you should have seen how upset he was, like somehow me feeling like I was losing a family was wrong.' He sighed. His chopsticks fell back into his bowl as he leaned back in his seat, hands coming to wipe his face. "I don't know what to do. He's avoiding me and I still feel like I'm not in the wrong here."

"That's not what this is about Buck and that's probably why he's still not talking to you. You are misunderstanding his feelings. This is not about who is in the wrong or right. You are absolutely entitled to your feelings about this. You are allowed to feel loss, to feel sad, for yourself and for your friends and no one would tell you otherwise. But you acting like they were somehow going to become your family is where this gets muddy. First, that's not how these things work unless they explicitly mentioned it and second, think of everything that has happened in the last few years and please explain how you think you have no family. Maybe Eddie feels like you're just casting them aside for some weird version of a family and you're not realizing what's in front of you."

There was a silence after she spoke where he felt like everything in his life shifted, not drastically but just enough for the light to illuminate them. He thought of all the time he spends with Christopher, how he picks him up after school some days, helps him with homework, and spends the weekends playing video games or hitting the park. He thinks of the big moments he was there for in his life, not just as a spectator but having actively participated in his life. And in Eddie's. Because that's where he felt happy, where he felt safe, and most of all: complete. And something Eddie said to him the say they fought replays in his mind. "You have become like a dad to him," and the ache in his chest suddenly vanished.

All this time they were already a family, him, Eddie and Chris. He had been letting other things cloud his emotions and even at some points blatantly ignoring them because it's not how he imagined his family when he was younger. But it was them. And he could even see the rest of his life now in front of him, parent-teacher meetings, Chris going off to college, opening presents on Christmas eve, pancake breakfasts, lazy Sundays in bed with Eddie.

He had wanted to become a better Buck, but there was always something holding him back. And now he realizes it was him being afraid of being happy because Eddie makes him happy and he knows he always will because from the moment they met it's always been him.

"Uh, Hen I think I gotta go." He grabbed his jacket and keys, barely remembering his phone as he raced towards the door.

She just shook her head, carefully piling some of his noodles onto her plate before replying to herself, "About damn time."

He stumbled out of the building, legs nearly buckling as he flew down the steps, now slick with the rain he could now vaguely remember the weather person mentioning but now was not the time to think of his rain jacket sitting in his closet and the thin jacket that he haphazardly threw on while rushing outside, already soaking through to the skin.

The rain was coming down harder now and he was forced to drive at a crawl as the traffic condensed around him, the road and cars barely visible in front of him but it's not like he didn't know the way to Eddie's house by heart. He probably didn't even need to see to make it there. The drive seemed impossibly long this time though and it wasn't just the traffic. His mind kept playing through different scenarios, running away with each and every possibility until Buck's hands were nearly shaking on the wheel. Normally Eddie was the person he could talk to about anything, without anything holding him back, and now he felt himself almost at a loss for words as he continuously failed to think of any possible way to tell him how he feels. Dealing with emotions had never been Buck's strong suit and telling your best friend you're in love with him was an extreme he rarely let himself deal with much less act on.

And now he could just barely make out Eddie's truck in the driveway as he turned on his street, the sight of causing his heart to skip a beat as he thought of what he was about to do. His headlights barely illuminated the house with the rain, all the windows dark except a dim glow coming from behind the shades of the front window. It was Sunday, Buck remembered, which meant it was movie night. And it also meant Buck probably would have been inside hadn't it been for their argument. He's not even sure if Eddie will even speak to him, he could just slam the door in his face but he wouldn't know until he tries.

The walk to the door somehow seems endless and completely new, like he was seeing the space for the very first time. The rain no longer seemed to bother him as it soaked the skin beneath his jacket as he took in the sight of the door ahead of him, despite the circumstances it seemed more inviting. Hours had seemingly passed by the time his knuckles rapped against that door and even longer until he heard familiar footsteps, the creak of the door opening sending his heart into a spin until their eyes met and Buck watched as Eddie's mouth quickly turned into a hard line, his arms crossing over his chest as he leaned against the door, careful to keep it as closed as possible.

"What do you want, Buck? I'm kind of busy, I'm sure you know it's movie night." His voice was even hard, refusing to give up anything behind it.

"Yeah, I uh-remembered that," he chuckled, his nerves getting the better of him now that he was face to face with him. No amount of preparation on the way here had let any string of words sound even remotely worthy of conveying what he was feeling but he managed to mutter a beginning to something, "Listen Eddie, I wanted to say sorry about the other night. I understand that what I said wasn't right considering my circumstances, you were right."

"Do you actually understand or do you just want me to forgive you?"

At his harsh tone, Buck could feel his courage creeping back inside him, his desperate urge to get his feelings out and his desire to fight for what he wanted had the words suddenly spilling from his lips before he could think.

"I do understand. I think I let myself get caught up in the idea of a family happening because of me and not ending because of me, because I wasn't good enough. My family sucked growing up and I let myself get too involved in this one because I felt like it would prove something was right about me. But that shouldn't have meant that I lost sight of what I have because I see it now, I feel the love I have now. I do have Maddie back and now I have Jee-Yun and Chim and the rest of the crew but what you and Chris are to me is not the same. You are like my family in a way it's taken me too long to realize, maybe because I didn't think I deserved it," his voice dropped to almost a whisper at the end, the words he was so terrified to speak sitting on the tip of his tongue.

"You mean so much to me and I cannot imagine my life without you or Chris-"

"What are you saying Buck?" His voice was deeper now, but gone was the harshness that was there before and instead Buck allowed himself to imagine for a moment that it was hope, that it was desire clouding his words. And it was the look in his eyes that cemented Buck's feet to the ground, the fleeting thought of running away gone as he finally said those three words.

"I love you Eddie."

He couldn't say anymore as Eddie was now pulling him in, hands grasping at his face and lips pressing desperately to his in a moment he only allowed himself to dream of in the loneliest of nights. And now he wasted no time pulling him by the hips until their bodies were flush against each other, feet tripping over each other as Buck backed him against the wall, the rain dripping down their faces and in between their lips as the storm grew and the wind whipped around them. He could feel every breath Eddie took and shared in each one as their chests rose and fell together. His hands snaked their way to Eddie's back, a groan slipping past his lips as he felt the hot skin beneath his shirt and Eddie was all too eager to return the favor as his hands found their way into his hair, fingers pulling at the short strands hard enough to make Buck gasp.

Just as their clothes began to slip off, Buck's hands trailing the edge of Eddie's pants, Christopher's voice ran out from the living room. "Dad, is that Buck? He's just in time for movie night! I told you he'd make it!"

They broke apart with quiet laughter, and Eddie had to take a few breaths before replying, "Yeah Chris it's Buck, you were right! He wouldn't miss movie night." He said the last part while glancing up at Buck through his lashes, their faces so close their noses were touching and Buck had never felt so light in his life. Everything he wanted was right here.

They let their foreheads touch briefly once more before straightening themselves out, hands finding each other in the low light. Eddie stopped him just before they walked inside, giving him one more kiss before whispering softly against his lips, "I love you too."

"And also Chris would want me to tell you that the movie was his idea. He was very excited about it, said you were going to love it. Something about coral reefs." And that's how he entered this new, yet definitely always meant to be part of his life; surrounded by the two people he loved most in the world and that he couldn't be prouder to call his family.

[sootandfangdiary]

we've been mutuals for a while, I'm gonna tell ya' some of my little men

Vrillon: resembles the flummoxing jumble guts from brutal orchestra but made of freezing black goo rather than purple goo and with at least eight long tentacles ending in three lobed “hands'', a prehistoric alien from a species called the Xrib who has been in stasis since the mesozoic and has been awake for about three centuries. Classic alien invader who plots to TAKE OVER THE WORLD via their black slime, which can assimulate humans into human ooze slave things that follow their every word and can themselves assimilate new members. The orb thing that serves as their head is the only hard part of their body and as such the only part of their body that can be attacked to any real degree, which is good because it is hollow and glasslike, easy to shatter. Weirdly capitalistic and businesslike, fond of formal language and corporate euphemisms. Lives in an equally ancient (and so very deteriorated) spaceship. If one of the ooze thralls exists for long enough they fuse with some other thralls (normally three) and pupate into a new Xrib. A meteor hit their ship about a century ago, ripping a chunk off which ended up bringing the freezing ooze to earth and, outside of its native environment, separate from its controller, and exposed to foreign elements, mutated into several different strains.

Hurroo: an overworked surgeon with many strange traits and idiosyncrasies. They live alone in a town in what was once suburbs as a mostly self-taught doctor. They have the classic femboy goatman appearance of a mostly humanoid body coated in white wool with a head that kinda looks like a cloud or something in shape with a set of short horns with their unique traits being that they look perpetually tired despite sleeping very well and, for some godforsaken reason, one of their legs is digitigrade, not even they know why it's like this. Their bed is square and has the blankets and pillows loosely tossed around at random. They get weirdly defensive about it because they do not want to admit that when they go to sleep they walk on all fours on their bed before curling up in a circle like a dog. Anyone who seeks treatment at their clinic has to sign a thing that allows them to experiment on their corpse if they die as in the hospital's basement experiments into necromancy, reanimation, and immortality. They have a shock baton for self defense.

Black goat: another one of the femboy goatman family of characters with the only real physical difference being coloration with their black wool, they live alone in the woods, mute, androgynous, very innocent and naive about the world because of their isolation from civilization. They have a little one room shack with a bed, fireplace, woodfire stove, a rusted rifle mounted above the fireplace they found in the woods and don't know how to use. They technically live in the lawless wasteland but as they are in the wilderness they haven’t noticed and no one has noticed the, which is good as they live near a city that has turned to madness and chaos, heretics, slavers, hedonists, and murderers all. They may-or-may-not have a direct blood relation to the black goat of the woods Shub-Niggurath. Their horns seem to be almost wooden.

The Gramophone head: a bizarre yet kindly man who lives in the same woods as the Black Goat and acts as an adopted parent almost. The gramophone head wears a thick brown coat, long beige pants, and large boots and gloves to hide the fact that they are a mutant plant creature puppeteering a human skeleton around and is named after the gramophone-like growth he has for a head. It is made of plant matter with five hexagonal horns that are fused at the rims connected by short yet shocky hollow tubes to a gourd-like noise chamber where the base of the neck would be, this organ and growth is how he speaks with roots coming out from under it into his ribcage, these roots wrapping around the bones and allowing them to control this body. They live in a more proper house where their skeletal frame used to live and actually know how to use a gun, an old revolver they found in the house when they moved in being their weapon of choice, and have defended the Black Goat from the Tree-Folk many times. They are really good at baking.

YOOO ALL OF THEM SOUND SO COOL ?!? I’m so sorry I responded to this late oh my god I love them all