#andy with glasses is making me go feral | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

writingmysanity · 2 years

Text

Illumination

Prompt: Stained Glass

Pairing: Viktor x Reader

Word count: 559

Tw: none. tis fluff.

A/N: This is going towards my domestication of a feral scientist random blurb list. Reader is preggo with baby Aryn. this is sort of a tentative part two to HOME. Whoop, also, hello all. I am really sorry about the random time lapse. Life has been hectic. But I am back now to write up a storm.

The weeks following the move into the new house were busy- mainly for Jayce and VIktor. They both refused to allow you to help with anything of consequence due to the pregnancy, despite your doctor stating that you were more than capable of helping, as long as it is something you would have normally done prior- nothing too strenuous but your job description rarely relied on strenuous tasks. There is little heavy lifting in being Mel’s aid.

While Viktor works on your shared room– doing what, you are unsure seeing as he, too, can not lift much– you work on the living room. There is little to lift, but plenty to clean. Jayce has cleared out the middle wall, separating the kitchen from the living area, opening the space dramatically.

Settled onto the coffee table is your record player, your parents. It is old and barely working, the sound coming out slightly more static-y than you remember it being as a child, but you don't care. Happily, you drop the arm, sighing in relief when the melody begins, quickly filling the space with its gentle melody. You have long forgotten the words your mother used to sing, but you still feel the warmth of her arms around you while she sings, the melody easing your fears. Spinning around with the broom, can't help the smile that stretches across your face as you swirl to a stop at the windows, opting to clear some of the residual dust and dirt from the vibrant stained glass windows you discovered the day prior- all covered and boarded up. The brilliant blues, greens and purples flood the room, staining the hardwood floors, shadows flickering amongst the fuzzy rays as you move, humming out loud.

In the all but empty home, the music echoes, dancing down the hall and into your room, making Viktor pause in his work. Listening intently, he softens, running his thumb over the hook of his cane as he wanders closer, careful not to make too much noise, sighing happily. He knows this song.

Pausing at the end of the hall, he leans against the wall, watching you dance in the light, swirling around with the broom. Your skirt flutters around your ankles, lifting slightly as you twirl making you feel like you're walking on air. The dancing lights remind him much of the mosaics you had shown him once, illuminating the warmth of your smile as you spin to a stop, a giggle escaping your lips as you continue to hum, only catching a glimpse of his form before you spin to a stop- half bowed, arm stretched in his direction, hand out.

An invitation.

Unable to stop his own smile, he steps forward slowly, settling his cane off to the side as he tugs you closer, settling your body neatly against his. Slowly, he wraps one arm around your waist, fingers curling around your hip lightly as he takes your hand with his free one, fingers slotting around yours as he tugs you to follow his steps. Grinning, you do so gladly, freezing only when he drops his head to rest his mouth next to your ear, softly singing the words as he spins you. Taking a weak breath, you tug him closer, resting your forehead to his shoulder, mouthing the words back as they come flooding back.

___

Arcane taglist:

@grumpyoutlaw @thehistoriangirl @rainbowpitofdoom @wizarrdofooze @uniquedeerwitch @ace-of-zaun @aerynwrites @queenxxxsupreme @beeblybub @ears-queers-gears-n-fears @just-an-adventurer @katelynwithpaint @wtf-andys

If you would like to be added to the tag list, please send me a message or ask or something.

Also, if you asked to be tagged and you don't see your name here, please send me a message. I think I lost one or two of you, and I am very sorry. My internet was wonky and didn't save everything I added.

#poor sweet viktor #arcane viktor x reader #viktor x reader #viktor #arcane viktor #viktor arcane #viktor arcane x reader #viktor league of legends #viktor the machine herald #viktor x you #the machine herald x you #the machine herald x reader #the machine herald #domestication of a feral scientist #papa!vik #papa!viktor

98 notes · View notes

abbatoirablaze · 2 years

Text

SDAU-Raised By Bears, Chapter 2

Word Count: 1k

“Stupid assholes,” Andy grumbled to himself as he hoisted the numerous bags over his shoulders so that he could walk around the house and put them in the can, “piss poor attitude my ass…I didn’t want to do i-“

“No….no thank you,” the young woman repeated, cutting off Andy’s internal monologue, “really…it’s nice of you to offer, bu-“

“Pretty little thing like you,” Thor smirked, the back of his hand brushing over the woman’s forearm, “come on…let me give you a ride home. You’re all sweaty an-”

“I’m jogging for a reason-“

“Trust me when I say you don’t need to. That body is like a work of art,” he replied softly. She shied away from him as his hand reached out once more, “come on sweetheart…don’t be like that. I’m being nice…”

“Is there a problem here?” Andy asked. The girl jumped as Andy dropped the trash in front of the can, but was happy to see that he was breaking up the awkward come on, “are you alright, Miss?”

“Actua-“

“Maybe you should butt out, pledge,” Thor growled, his eyes showing the slightest amber ring around them. Andy felt himself going on the defensive, knowing the other alpha was on the beginning of his rut without a rut bunny, “mind your own business.”

“Is he bothering you, Miss?”

“Yes,” she said desperately, “I just want to-“

“Go inside, Barber.”

Andy stalked towards the older man and physically put himself between Thor and the girl, “think you’ve had a little too much to drink, brother…the girl said you’re bothering her.”

“Brother?” Thor growled, pushing the pledge. Andy barely shifted as Thor glared him down, “you’re a pledge…not my god damned brother…maybe you should see yourself back into the house before I get you kicked out of the frat for getting involved in my affairs.”

“I should go-“

“You’re not going anywhere!” Thor grumbled, grabbing hold of the girl’s arm.

She whimpered, and Andy immediately felt himself growl at his frat bro. Andy was quick to respond. He broke the hold Thor had on her arm and pushed him back. But Thor was quick at grabbing Andy. He pulled him by his shirt and threw him back towards the house.

“Please sto-“

“SHUT UP!” Thor growled.

But it was just the opening Andy needed to tackle his brother straight into the pile of garbage. The sound of crunching glass barely registered to Andy as Thor reached behind himself and grabbed at something, only to hit Andy in the face with it.

It wasn’t until Chris and a few other guys pulled Thor and Andy away from each other that Andy realized he was bleeding.

“What the fuck is going on?” Chris growled, glaring between the two men.

“This asshole came after a jogger,” Andy growled, glaring at Thor, then pointing at the young woman, “he wouldn’t take no for an answer and he’s got the rings around his eyes. He was going to go feral on her.”

“God damn it Thor,” Chris growled, shooting his own glare at Thor, “Get in the fucking house!”

“Miss…are you okay?” Nat asked, rushing towards the younger woman. The young woman bit her lip and nodded.

“I—yeah…I’m sorry, I-“

“Let me walk you back to your place?” Andy asked, “make sure this kind of shit doesn’t hap-“

She gasped when she saw him, as though she forgot her own situation, “oh my god…you’re bleeding…”

“Pledge, get this girl home safe then get yourself cleaned up,” Chris said firmly, before looking back to the house, “tomorrow afternoon…back here…”

Andy nodded as the brothers started going back to what they were doing, all piling back inside the house for the party, leaving Andy with the jogger.

“A-are you okay?” she asked quickly, “Y-you don’t have to walk me home, I-“

“I’ll be fine,” Andy shrugged, wiping the cut with his sleeve. He winced a little, the fabric rubbing harshly against his wound, “shit.”

“Oh god…that looks kind of deep…maybe you should come back to my dorm. I-I can fix you up,” she offered, “I’m in the nursing program…it wouldn’t be any trouble.”

Andy’s heart melted as he looked at the cute little thing. It was then that he noticed he could smell signature bear scents on her. He gave her the smallest of smiles, his heart jumping at the thought of finding a cute little omega by sheer accident, “I wouldn’t want to be a pain…”

“No, really,” she said quickly, taking his arm in her own, “you wouldn’t be…I promise…just…please? Let me fix you up?”

“Okay…but I’m leaving right after,” he said quickly, knowing how it might look to have a larger alpha bear go into an omega’s den, “I-I don’t want people to get the wrong idea from it…I mean…alphas can be real knotheads…”

“Don’t worry,” she laughed, wrapping her arm around his much larger one, “I came from a big litter. I have seven brothers and two sisters…”

“One of ten…huh?”

“Yeah…” she laughed softly, “I come from a very big, traditionalist family…”

Andy’s heart melted even more as he heard those words, his mind already gone with the thoughts of him staying the night, “you don’t say…”

“Grizzlies,” she giggled softly, “they’re….particular.”

“Tell me about it,” Andy smiled, wanting to make more conversation with the girl, “I come from a polar bear family.”

“So then,” she laughed, leading him towards Grady Hall where the medical dorms were, “I’m going to guess and say you’re an only child.”

“Yes ma’am…” Andy answered with a smile, “so tell me more about you…you’re pretty small coming from a grizzly family…even the omega grizzlies I’ve met are easily half a foot taller than you.”

“Yeah…I guess you could say I’m the runt of the litter…”

“Nothing wrong with that,” he teased playfully, his heart racing as his own scent got stronger around her, “just means that it’ll be even easier for a big bad alpha to sweep you off your feet…”

“Is that what’s happening right now, alpha?”

Andy rumbled, the loud noise coming from his chest and sliding up his throat, “it’s not nice to tease a bear, mega…”

Tag List: @evanswife1918, @lohnes16, @tenaciousperfectionunknown

84 notes · View notes

awritingarrow · 2 years

Text

skitters in here like a feral little beast

so first of all it’s a good time to mention i have a content sideblog @aroacearrowace for my fics n art bc i have like 6k posts on this blog and none of them are coherent. that blog is the one u will see coherency on. this one is chaos and horrors and a tag system that only i can navigate. as u can see, i’m posting on this one. so we’re going to be crazy tonight

usually i’m like not active on tumblr at all bc discord is My True Home. so usually u will just see me going feral on discord BUT i am currently thinking abt @andizoidart‘s boy and idk their discord/if they have one/what kind of servers they’re in so now i’m just going to b going feral on here for the next however long it takes to fic idea.

normally i am only this unhinged on private discord servers with 10 people including me inside. u are all about to witness the horrors sooo badly get exposed to my mental illness get consumed by my chaos

normally i would put long posts behind a read more but when u read more u can only find the posts on the Account It Was Posted On and unless u archive.org it u literally cannot find it if ur blog is deleted for whatever reason. also i get really annoyed when ppl put things behind a read more bc i wanna see the content i don’t wanna GO TO A SEPARATE PAGE. also this is my blog i do what i want. so anyway no read more bc again, i’m feral!

anyway i spent so long just explaining my incoherency so now u will witness the me

first of all: ghost apples! they’re really cool. i want to squish one in my hands like soap. watch it break like glass. very stimmie very gender very ogh. my immediate keyword associations: ice, glass, ghost. i could EASILY make an oc sans that’s all of those things and then shove them in to kiss dream and nightmare on the mouth but that’s the easy route. what i want to do is use ghost apples as a theme to an overarching story full of slowburn and suffering.

(prepare for technical writing terms that were literally made up by me and never elaborated on)

i usually write in a very metaphorical, emotional way. when you read each line of my work, i want it to make you feel an emotion and carry you to the next paragraph, which makes you feel a different emotion, guiding you on a journey of my very own design. metaphors. i like metaphors

now the keywords i chose were “ice,” “glass,” and “ghost.” i have two options here: make each segment of the story pertain to a different keyword, or make each character pertain to a different keyword. i like metaphors! so i’m doing the latter.

easily, i come up with:

nightmare - cold like ice, frozen to the touch. standoffish. you know elsa from frozen? like in that one scene the do u wanna build a snowman scene? yeah yeah that.

dream - glass. instantly, glass, bc of the statue thing. fragile, delicate, easy to break. i really really like a dream who can kick ur butt for no reason whatsoever so i have elected to put my own twist on this: dream is treated like glass, but he’s made of stone. (see what i did there?)

with that, nightmare feels like ice, but is treated like fire. dream is treated like glass, but feels like stone.

then, somnus.

definitely. would b very fun. if somnus felt and was treated the same, as a foil to dream and nightmare.

somnus’s keyword was ghost. i’m realllyyyy torn on what to do with this one bc there’s so many options.

i could literally kill him off, and then make him a ghost, but that’s like, obvious. there’s not a metaphor in that. also what’s the point of writing a fic about a character if u kill them off in the first five seconds.

according to andi’s post, he has dysfunctional magic. instantly makes me think of a disabled metaphor, i like it. he searches for artificial magic, and he’s a little worm guy. goes digging in the dirt and pulls out a fistful of worms. brilliant, absolutely brilliant.

it might be a lot of fun to change the dreamtale story around a lot. i want nightmare to get corrupted, that’s definitely staying. maybe i want to give them wings, for funsies. not for any particular reason, just funsies. buuuut idk if i want dream to get stoned in a physical sense.

my metaphor was that nightmare feels like ice, is treated like fire. dream is treated like glass, is made of stone... so i think what if i made that metaphor really really apparent with the apple incident part of the story

i really like the idea that in like, any dreamtale au, both dream and nightmare get abused. nightmare is physically abused, yeah, but dream is emotionally abused. with somnus, it might be fun to include neglect as a third form of abuse, just so we get all of the abuse. i never said i was going to be nice to these characters

i think that, with somnus left in the dust, and dream being treated as though he’s made of glass, and nightmare being treated like a threat, dream would be the first to act. dream eats the apple, first.

i’m guessing the sort of idea behind somnus is that he’s the wood? dream is the gold apples, nightmare the black, somnus is the wood. so i’m not doing a shattered dream scenario bc i wanna stick with each of those themes. idk what the positive apples would do to you if you ate one, bc like in canon they just make you really lucky?? i guess???? but in this i want something DRAMATIC to happen. since this is just a fic outline i’m metaphorically inserting brackets that say [something dramatic happens that get all three triplets fighting against the villagers]

nightmare gets corrupted like ice, dream like stone, and somnus..? hm. i mean i have to figure out what somnus does to the tree bc i don’t think it’s good to just up and eat tree bark from some random apple tree. i don’t think that’s healthy. there was a mention of a palismen in the post i think unless i read it wrong so i think,,,,, mb the tree starts falling apart bc the other two are eating the apples so then the tree just goes YOINK ur getting stolen into the tree now.

and since somnus’s prompt is ghost i think. i think. i think it would b very fun if the fic was about dream and nightmare trying to find their brother.

welcome to my brain everyone xD

#long post #so anyway i'm normal

11 notes · View notes

rotworld · 3 years

Text

22: Zombie

a mysterious infection spreads across the globe and completely redefines what it means to be human.

->explicit. contains gore/decaying bodies, dehumanization, feral behavior, pack dynamics, hard noncon, exhibitionism/voyeurism, collaring.

A new colony moves in. You know because of the noises at night, the shrieks, the snarls and howling. Like wolves or mountain lions, like things hunting and dying. The territorial dispute goes on for days and frays your already rattled nerves. You stay close to the house and don’t go out after dark. Late at night when you can’t sleep, you see silhouettes shambling around in the yard. They rummage through your compost heap. Sometimes large, rot-discolored hands will press against your windows and you’ll hold absolutely still as foggy corpse eyes peer through the glass, looking for a way in.

You miss Andy. Thinking about him makes your chest tighten, your breathing quicken and your heart ache. Cute, soft-spoken Andy with his curly brown hair and the freckles across the bridge of his nose. He’d sit with you on nights like this, when you were too scared to sleep. He always knew what to say. “They’re still people,” he’d tell you, rubbing little reassuring circles into the back of your hand. “The infection affects metabolism and impulse control, but they’re as human as you and me. They want to be safe, and comfortable, and loved.”

A long, low growl comes from the back door and you hear footsteps all around the house, converging behind the house. The colony progenitor, you assume. You see five, maybe six of them out there, examining the chicken coop. They fiddle with the doors until they get it open. Your oldest hen, Berta, comes flapping out with an indignant squawk and struts around, pecking their ankles. It’s almost cute, watching them watch her. Like children seeing a small animal for the first time, they want to pick her up, passing her around to stroke her feathers and pet her head. Their silhouettes are masculine, thick and broad-shouldered.

“Zombie is a bit of a misnomer,” Andy told you once. “They’re not dead. They’re actually a lot more durable than us. The infection is parasitic, and it requires a massive caloric intake to coexist peacefully with the hostbody. Necrosis is a sign of starvation, but they can recover from extreme tissue damage as long as they meet their nutritional needs.” It’s hard to make out in the dark, but this colony seems neither well-fed nor on the brink of starvation. Most of them have some rot, blackened fingers, missing noses, unraveling cheeks and lips, but you’ve seen far worse. A lot of them are heavily bandaged, stitches circling wrists and biceps. Someone in the colony must have had medical training in their past life.

Eventually, they put Berta back in the coop and close it up behind her. There’s another growl from the progenitor and the colony leaves, climbing easily over the fence meant to keep them out and disappearing into the woods. You let out the breath you were holding. You’ll have to make a note of this. Andy always kept track of colony movements and individual members. You still have all of his old legal pads, stuffed into shelves and cupboards. It’s a struggle to keep your tears off of them, reading over his old observations written in tiny, barely legible scribbles.

The yellow paper with his final few entries, dated a little over a year ago, was ripped out and waiting for you on the kitchen counter one day. The very last one read, “Bitten by colony matriarch. Can’t risk staying. I’m sorry. I love you.” He was already gone. You curled up on the floor, crumpled paper in your hands, and cried through the night. You were afraid of going through this new, horrible world all alone. More than that, you were afraid of Andy doing the same thing. Fun, silly, gentle Andy would never survive out there. Zombies eat their weak. Colonies tear each other limb from limb over resources and territory. You blamed yourself when there was nothing you could’ve done. You were immune. Andy knew that.

He also knew he’d probably tear your throat out with his teeth once he was fully infected, too hungry to stop himself.

There’s more fighting that night, more vicious than before. Something snaps and squelches dangerously close to the house, a death rattling echoing through your head. You give up on trying to sleep with the horrible, inhuman sounds filling the woods, sitting at the table by candlelight. You review some of Andy’s older notes, ones that don’t provoke such a gutwrenching feeling. Colony transitions are a time of heightened aggression. Skirmishes may be brief and infrequent, or prolonged and constant, and will last until one group succumbs or is pushed out of the area. The death of the progenitor often ends a territory dispute.

A particularly awful noise makes you shoot up from your seat. Something is screaming, and the screaming is getting closer. You grab the baseball bat you keep in the kitchen, more for peace of mind than anything. There’s no reason for any of them to try getting inside. But you hear a heavy dragging, the sounds of something coming up the dirt path to your front door. You hear that same vicious growling from before; the progenitor of the new colony. A wretched sound—a thin, reedy wail that turns to gurgling as something fleshy stretches, slips, and shreds apart—reaches your ears. There’s a thump, deadweight hitting the ground, and then silence. You can hear your heart pounding in your ears.

The progenitor makes a rumbling growl and the rest of the colony joins in, like wolves howling. You creep down the hall to the front door. Through the windows, you can see the newcomers standing in the yard. They’re not scattering like they usually do after a fight. They’re not regrouping, not falling back to the woods. The dispute is over, you realize. That limp mass on your doorstep is the body of the old colony’s progenitor, and that round, stringy-haired mass sticking on one fence post is its head. This territory, and everything in it, is theirs now.

There’s a grunt, a short, snorting sound from the progenitor, and then the whole colony stares at the house. Right at you. You flinch back, your muscles seizing up in fight-or-flight, your brain several steps ahead of your body thinking about where the rest of the weapons are in the house, the fastest route to the basement, how quickly you can barricade yourself in. It all stops when you hear a sound you haven’t in a very long time. A voice. Words you understand. Someone speaking to you.

“Don’t be scared.”

It’s muffled through the door. One of them comes up the front steps slowly. You can guess that it’s the progenitor from the way the others fall in behind it, closing in on the house. It sounds like a man, like a regular human man, just a little lower, more growling and hoarse. It sounds familiar in a way that makes your heart lurch but you refuse to get your hopes up now. It can’t be him. Andy was tall, but not this tall, not nearly as tall as your door. He didn’t have thick, muscular arms like that. But the “what if” hangs tantalizingly in the air the longer you peer out at the zombie on your doorstep.

“Don’t be scared,” he repeats. “We won’t hurt you.”

You swallow hard, still gripping the bat. Andy told you they could speak, but they usually don’t. Communication within colonies is mostly made up of growls and pheromone cues. Hearing it is startling. “What do you want?” you call through the door. Your own voice is hoarse and ragged. How long has it been since you spoke to someone? (Almost a year, you think. You talk to Berta and the other chickens sometimes, but it’s turned to mumbles, little animal noises. It’s been almost a year since Andy left.)

“We want to come inside.”

Your eyes flick down to the locks on the front door. It’s enough to deter a lone zombie stumbling around in search of food, but can it keep out a determined progenitor and his whole colony? You don’t know. You hoped you’d never have to put it to the test. “You can’t come in,” you say, trying to sound firm.

“We can,” the progenitor says with eerie calm. “Will you let us in, or will we have to break down the door?”

Don’t panic, you tell yourself. Andy said they can smell panic. “Why do you want to come inside?” you ask, stalling for time. You glance around. You could barricade the door, but it might not be worth it, and it’d waste precious time you could spend fortifying your defenses in the basement. But can you even get there before they get inside the house? “I’m immune. You can’t infect me. I don’t have anything you’d want.”

The progenitor makes a slight movement, something you almost miss, but it makes the colony disperse. Your heart hammers in your chest as you hear them going around the back of the house. You see one out of the corner of your eye by the window in the hallway. You take a step back. “It’s you we want,” the progenitor growls. The words are a signal, the entire colony howling and slamming themselves against the house, shattering windows, smashing locks. As you turn on your heel, running for the basement, you hear the front door turn to splinters. The progenitor’s heavy, sprinting steps catch up to you too quickly. He’s faster, takes corners more tightly, leaps over furniture in his way.

He catches you by the neck, his large hand snagging you like a cat by the scruff. His fingers circle all the way around your throat. You come to a sudden halt, feet lifting off the ground as he holds you up to assess. You squirm and scratch at him to no avail, tugging desperately on the fingers wrapped around your throat. The rest of the colony fills the room, surrounding you and tears burn in your eyes. The progenitor leans in, sniffing your neck. His tongue drags along your jaw, tasting your sweat and fear. You’re going to die. They’re going to rip you apart and eat you and there’s nothing you can do about it.

“It’s really you,” the progenitor says quietly.

His voice cuts through your terror, because you know it. You’d know it anywhere. When he speaks softly like that, his humanity comes through loud and clear. In the dim, flickering candlelight, you take your first good look at him. The same curly, dark hair. The same freckles dusting his nose and cheeks. He’s bigger, taller and wider than he ever was before, his new diet and the extreme body-altering properties of the infection changing him, but it’s him. You look in his gray, cloudy eyes and you know.

“Andy,” you whisper. He sets you back down. You collapse against the wall behind you, sinking to your knees. Andy follows, crouching beside you. “I didn’t...I thought…” You swallow a whimper. “You’re alive.” He runs his bandaged hand through your hair.

Andy’s skin has taken on a purplish hue, mottled and bruise-like. He wears a plain black t-shirt, the same one he was wearing the day he left, but it looks shrunken and tight on his larger body. His jeans are ragged with holes at the knees. Andy’s face is split in half by a curling line of stitches, descending from his scalp, across his nose, curling beneath an eye patch on his right side. That eye must be missing. The flesh of one cheek is stringy and torn, exposing his jaw and several teeth. Shakily, in disbelief, you touch his face and he makes a rumbling sound, nuzzling against your palm.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs. He urges you to lean against him, resting your head against your shoulder as he strokes your back. “Never wanted to leave you, but I couldn’t risk it. Had to wait until I had it under control. God, I was so hungry when it kicked in. I ate and I ate and I ate, but the hunger never went away. It was like that for months. Just eating everything I saw. It was hell.” You relax into him, shutting your eyes as the last year of fear and solitude finally catches up with you. Andy presses a kiss to the top of your head. You feel him shifting, rummaging through his pockets before he finds what he’s looking for. You don’t worry about it until you feel something wrapping around your neck.

“Andy?” you say, anxiety creeping into your voice. He makes a growling sound when you try to pull away, yanking you closer. It’s leather, a thin strip fitting around your neck like a collar and attached with a fastener on the back. “Andy, what—?”

“Don’t be scared,” Andy murmurs. His fingers graze your skin and he’s warmer than you expected, almost uncomfortably hot. It’s the infection, the constant breakdown and repair of muscle tissue, the rot and resuscitation. “There we go. Nice and snug. Not too tight, yeah?” Dread creeps up your spine as Andy lets go of you, towering over you with the rest of his colony. He caresses your cheek, his gaze wandering shamelessly over your body. “We’ve got a lot of work to do,” he says, the growl returning to his voice as he addresses his colony. “Every entrance needs to be secured. No one but us gets in and out of here. We’ll work out a patrol schedule after we mark the edge of the territory.”

“And the immune?” one of them says, nodding to you. “They’re panicking. You got them handled?” You find yourself trembling, burying your face in the side of Andy’s legs in desperation. You just want something familiar, something to ground you and keep you from screaming.

“Yeah,” Andy says quietly, gazing down at you. That’s how he used to look at you, with all that warmth and adoration. His eyes are different but it’s the same gaze. It makes things better, and so much worse. He slowly unwraps the bandages, exposing even more stitches, even more thin patches of skin. You see exposed muscle and bone below one elbow. His fingers are black up to the knuckles. He touches the edge of the collar, testing the give, unable to slip his whole thumb underneath before it tugs too hard and makes you whine. In front of the whole colony, he unzips his fly and pulls out his cock, the same flushed, bruised shade as the rest of him. You inhale shakily and scoot back, but you just hit one of the others’ legs. They shove you forward, back into Andy.

“It’s scared,” one of them murmurs. “Smells so good.”

“Scared, but quiet. Is something wrong with it?” another asks, nudging you with his foot. “I thought the immune screamed a lot.”

“Nah, it knew the progenitor in his last life. It already knows proper respect.”

You can’t take your eyes off of Andy. He steps forward and the two of you are surrounded by the colony, caged in by their bodies. Andy smiles, cupping your chin. He pumps his cock with his other hand, alternating between long strokes and twisting his palm over his tip. He hardens slowly, getting even longer and thicker under his fingers. You whimper when his hand tangles in your hair, pushing the back of your head into his hips. He rubs his cocks over your lips. “Open up,” he says, his voice soft and teasing. You don’t want to. You’re afraid. You don’t understand what’s happening. Is this really Andy?

His colony is watching, licking their lips, some of them palming their crotches or taking out their cocks to get off. Your face heats with shame. You don’t want to look at them, but Andy’s cock presses more insistently against your mouth and he’s starting to pant, his grip on your hair tightening. He doesn’t let your gaze wander anymore, tugging you back to him whenever you glance elsewhere.

“Come on, immune. Open that pretty little mouth,” one of them jeers. “Progenitor’s gotta mark you. You don’t wanna get taken by another colony, do you?”

“It’s just sitting there,” another says, sounding frustrated.

“It doesn’t know any better. The progenitor will teach it proper manners.”

Waves of nausea wash over you with their every word. You’re human, you want to scream. You don’t want this. Andy grips your jaw, forcing your mouth open. “I know you’re scared,” he coos, like you’re an animal, a skittish deer he wants to lure closer. “It’s alright. Not gonna hurt you. Open for me. I’ll make it quick, I promise.” You can hear your own pounding heartbeat and slick, obscene noises all around you. The rest of the colony is jerking off, some slow, drawing it out, others fucking their fists, hips bucking, staring at you with blown pupils.

Andy holds your head with both hands, forcing your jaw open. You flail, hands scrabbling over his thighs, but he’s stronger than you. He ignores all of your clawing and scratching. A low hiss comes out when your fingers snag on the stitches along his inner thigh and the sound scares you, makes you go still. It’s all he needs to force himself inside. You struggle, hands on his hips, as he sinks all the way in with one long thrust.

“There we go,” he praises you, stroking your hair. “That’s good. Just like that.” It’s too much. He’s huge, your jaw is aching, his tip is bumping the back of your throat and you can’t breathe. You pull apart a line of stitches and Andy oozes dead, coagulated blood, hotter than it should be as it pours over your hand. He doesn’t seem to notice or care, too enraptured by the heat of your mouth around him. He holds your head in place and starts to move slowly, a gentle easing in and out that lets you adjust. “We’re gonna take such good care of you.”

“Fuck yeah we are,” one of them groans, stroking himself faster. “Cute little thing like you, you’re gonna be full all the time.”

“The immune aren’t toys,” another scolds, but he’s just as breathless and excited. All of his fingers are ringed by stitches, a long, meandering line all the way up to elbow. “They don’t heal like we do. They need less food, but more sleep and sunlight. They’re easy to break.”

“I wouldn’t break it, progenitor!” a different one insists. “I’d be careful. I could take it on walks and everything.”

Andy lets out a rumbling growl that quiets the entire colony. “The immune is mine,” he hisses. “The rest of you will have to prove yourselves.” He grabs your head with both hands, his rotting fingers digging into your scalp and bringing you into a hard, forward thrusts that bruises your throat. The pain and the horror all mixes together into an overwhelming malaise and euphoria. It’s Andy. Your Andy. He came back for you. You won’t be alone anymore. You relax your jaw. You give into the desperate hope clawing its way back from the dead within you.

“Yes, progenitor,” the others mutter, disappointed but no less enthusiastic. You feel their gazes burning into you, hear them pleasuring themselves. The first one to finish groans, angling his cock so his cum drizzles over your back. You whimper in displeasure, trying to arch away from him, but that just pushes you further into Andy. He grits his teeth. You can see them grinding together though the hollow spot in his cheek, the slide of tendon and tissue. He slams into you again, makes you choke and gurgle around his cock. His balls slap your chin.

“I have so much to teach you,” Andy says, gazing down at you with nothing but love in his eyes. “The world’s not like I thought it was. I have to protect you.” His hips stutter as he brings you in close, nose nestled against his feverish skin. He holds you there, chokes you with his cock as he curses under his breath and fucks your throat. You tremble in his grasp. The sounds of the colony’s pleasure, their growls and moans, their frenzied strokes, the cum squirting all over you, dampening your clothes, is too much.

“I love you,” Andy whispers, sounding just as you remember him. He cums and it’s more than you can take. He pumps himself into your mouth twice and then pulls out, covering your face, your neck and your chest. You feel woozy, sick with fear, drowning in fever dreams. This can’t be real. You’re asleep. You hit your head on something. You slump against Andy’s legs, clinging to him. He makes a low sound, half hum and half growl, that soothes you despite its strangeness. The colony splits up at his order, a quiet growl and a nod, leaving the two of you alone.

“Everything’s going to be okay now,” he tells you, smiling gently as he wipes his cum away from your eyes. He rubs it into your skin. You feel disgusting and used, but you let him do it. You shiver and let the tears come. Andy holds you just like he used to, rocking gently, whispering little reassurances. Everything is just like it used to be, and a terrible nightmare.

#rotpeach writes #teratotober #original #i tried to give myself mostly prompts i hadnt done before #but somehow i both forgot about zombie and also wrote something extremely similar to the last time i had zombie as a prompt #but i like how this one turned out too!

120 notes · View notes

brandstifter-sys · 3 years

Text

Fight Not Flight

Word Count: 1466 (Ao3)

Pairings: TS Shorts Sleepxiety, background dukexiety

Characters: Remy, Andy, Virgil, Remus, Roman (mentioned)

Rating: T+

Warnings: Injury, hospital mention, panic mention, fighting, past virgil x andy, misgendering (assumed)

Remy returns home after a night on the town only to find an unwanted guest on his couch and his boyfriend covered in bruises. Andy is just glad he’s home to cuddle after the hellish night he had!

---

It wasn't unusual for Remy to return home at odd hours of the morning. As long as he texted his boyfriend updates, he was good. Of course, he was used to his boyfriend texting back. This time, he had a good excuse—it was hard to hear the phone during a loud concert.

Remy expected his boyfriend would be awake, but he was not expecting to walk in and see Virgil, of all people, asleep on the couch cradling a stuffed octopus toy to his unbound chest. Remy scowled at the sight and marched down the hall to the bedroom. This was not okay.

"Gurl you had better not have brought that bitch here for a little one-on-one while I was out!" Remy hissed as soon as he entered the bedroom, not actually believing his own accusation. His boyfriend was lounging on the bed, covered in bruises including a black eye, and the bastard just had to smile at him.

"Nah, he needed to crash while Ree is in the hospital. Ro kicked him out so he could panic freely. You know that I don't want to get that close to my childhood best friend," Andy said with a shrug and winced. Even in his favorite pajama pants and a clean shirt, he was visibly uncomfortable.

"Details now!" Remy ordered and lowered his sunglasses.

"Well we went to the concert, and I swear the idiots were actually flirting finally and moshing. But then a total chode decided that Virge should free the tiddy and got too close. Let's just say that didn't go over well and there was a fight three against five."

"You got in a fight?" Remy gawked, s little bit unsure with his boyfriend's nonchalant tone. He could have been tired or emotionally drained. Neither one meant for an expressive anxious mess.

"Yeah, and I kicked some serious ass, at least until security threw us out and the fight kept going. You really don't want to be on Virge's bad side. The leader of the bitch pack was wailing on Remus. It was ugly and he was taking too many hits because Ree is feral as fuck."

"Gurl are you serious?"

"Yeah and the douche bag found a giant ass shard of glass on the ground and—let's just say after he used it he got his ass handed to him by a raging trans emo. And then the cops showed," Andy continued, flinching at the memory.

"The cops?" Remy gawked, "Andy you know those bitches are—"

"I didn't call them! But in this case I'm glad they showed. Remus got taken to the hospital, and Virge and I had to give statements. Then we paid the trash a visit, called Ro to tell him and get over there, had some serious panic, and only got back here an hour ago. I made V shower and set him up on the couch, I showered and dried my hair, and then you got home."

"Damn, and you worry about me hitting the club!" Remy jeered and sat down beside him, gently brushing his bangs away from his good eye. That impish twinkle was still there, even if it was hard to see.

"You don't go with friends who are more fight than flight, freeze, or fawn," Andy shot back and took his hand, pressing his busted lip to the palm, "And maybe I worry about you more than I worry about me."

"Mr. Tough Guy here, getting into fights to defend his friends and then getting all soft with his beau!" Remy teased and booped his nose gently. Andy snickered and shrugged.

"You make me soft in the best way, but if you want you can make me hard too!" Andy jeered and wrapped his arms around Remy's waist, resting his chin on his shoulder, letting his eyes flutter shut.

"Bruises are so not sexy on your face, try again later!"

"They hurt, babe. Kiss it better?" Andy mumbled and kissed his neck. Remy shivered and tilted his head back.

"Can't do that if you don't let go, babe!"

"Then I won't, you feel like paradise and I need a vacation tonight," Andy said and yawned, "Dreamland sounds good."

"Did you stay awake just for me?" Remy teased.

"Yeah, someone had to explain the situation with V. And you make it easier to sleep," Andy grumbled and hid his face in Remy's shoulder.

"You really need to rest, Boo!"

"Not without you, Kitten."

"Then let me get in my jams and take my meds, boo. Not gonna lie, you're getting a little clingy."

Andy snorted and let him go, flopping onto the bed with a wry smirk. Remy flipped him off and got up, sashaying out of the room.

He shut the door and strolled into the kitchenette, surprised to find the light on. Virgil was awake and staring at the electric kettle, waiting for it to finish. He was hugging that same octopus toy and holding the only mug Remy hated.

"You know you need to get that hotter for herbal tea," Remy said, making Virgil jolt. He set the mug on the counter and sheepishly rubbed his neck.

"I can turn it off and go to the convenience store down the street," he muttered and tugged on his toy's tentacle.

"No, hun, you are not going anywhere when you look like you might punch anyone who bumps you," Remy said and leaned against the counter. Virgil shied away and turned off the kettle. Remy wilted and fought back a groan.

"Okay, hun, truce time," Remy sighed, "Andy told me what happened to your boyfriend."

"He's not my boyfriend."

"Do you want him to be?"

"Right now I just want him to pull through."

"Fair."

"I'll be out of here once it's light out—I know you don't want me here and I get it."

"I don't like it that he's still close to his ex, but I'm not that much of a bitch."

"It was back in high school before we were out. I never liked him that way, and the feeling was mutual."

"He never mentioned that part. He just told me you dated for a while."

"Yeah, I asked him not to bring up those times. He's been good about that—you have a great boyfriend. You shouldn't keep him waiting too long."

"Sleepytime tea is on the top shelf, but you can have some of the iced tea from the fridge if you want," Remy said and went for the pillbox on the counter and a glass he kept next to it.

He took his meds and left Virgil to get his calming tea, pleased that a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. He went back to the bedroom and smirked at the lump under the covers. Thinking Andy was dozing off, he tossed his jacket aside and unzipped his jeans.

"If you wanted to put on a show I would have put on some music," Andy jeered tiredly and watched Remy blush. He could be so shy despite being a shameless thot.

"Who said anything about a show? Babe, it is so not the time!"

"Well don't hide in the bathroom, I wanna see my boyfriend being pretty without trying," he grumbled and nuzzled into his pillow, blinking up at Remy almost adorably.

"You," Remy scoffed and took off his sunglasses, "are so not playing fair, Boo."

"I'd cheat if it meant I got to have you, Kitten," Andy shrugged before yawning. Remy gawked and slipped out of his jeans and shoes. This man was too much!

"You better not cheat on me!" Remy shot back, trying to maintain his bad bitch composure. It wasn't working. Not when Andy was staring at him like he was a literal angel disrobing right in front of him.

"I won't do that—I would do almost anything for you—" he paused to yawn again, "—even take a shiv to the gut to defend you."

"You really need to stop hanging out with the trashboy. I don't want you getting shived," Remy sighed and pulled on his sweatpants. He crawled into bed while Andy snickered.

He yelped quietly when Andy wrapped his arms around his chest and pulled him close. He curled around his thot and purred softly, finally getting the cuddles he craved.

"And you call me 'kitten!'" Remy jeered and got cozy.

"Mhm, this tomcat loves his kitten," Andy mumbled against his neck, making Remy shiver, "safe kitten, rest easy." Remy snorted and rolled over.

Andy was already asleep, exhausted from his trying day. Remy smirked and placed a delicate kiss to his black eye, and then to his split lip. He closed his eyes and listened to Andy's rhythmic heartbeat, drifting off to his favorite melody—the proof his little nightmare wasn't a dream.

#remy sanders #andy sanders #remus sanders #virgil sanders #sanders sides #dukexiety #ts shorts sleepxiety #sleepxiety #remdy #there has to be a better ship name for these two and I will find it eventually #misgendering mention tw #violence mention tw #injury mention tw #stabbing mention tw #hospital mention tw #panic attack mention tw #sandyscribed #ask to tag

23 notes · View notes

randomingoftherandomness · 4 years

Note

so i was looking over random notes of mine for other ideas in other fandoms and it hit me, Booker gets his shit together, maybe starts seeing a therapist, and he realizes he thrives on homemaking, he accidentally befriends his neighbors or his neighbor's kids, at some point they have a crisis where the kids need watching but there's no one to watch and insert Booker, yada yada, kids love him, parents can relate, he accidentally becomes the go-to baby sitter, blablablah Accidental Daycare Booker

and this daycare nonsense is of course going on during The Exile™ so TOG doesn't know shit until something happens and they worry somehow Booker's gonna End Up In It Too but what they find is a smiling, happy, thriving man, sitting in a pile of small children reading aloud, & those kids LOVE him alright, & the parents ADORE him, & of course they know a sanitized version of him losing his own kids so they EMPATHIZE with the poor man with no family, ,,,until of course TOG stumble in like "waht?"

also (sorry for not numbering these i literally didn't mean to keep coming up w/ more ideas so this is #3) since you ruined my brain for it, ot3 so of course Joe sees this glowing happy Booker doting on these amazing small babies & just-- collapses because cuteness & overload, his poor poetic soft heart can't take it, but Nicky's not doing much better he forgot how to language halfway through a word & is trying to catch Joe but poor Nicky, he can't tear his eyes away & only one arm is working

AHHHHHH JORDGE I AM SOFT AND FERAL FOR THIS

I can already see how he goes to his knees to speak to the kids at their eye level and treats them with the utmost respect and gravitas. And those kids love him. Like, love the absolute cotton socks off of him.

Anita attempts to run away when her little brother was born and thinks her parents love her less and goes right to Booker because his house is right at the end of the street and that’s the furthest she’s ever walked alone, who makes her hot chocolate and puts on Inside Out and calls her parents to tell them that he will talk to her and get her back by bedtime. Phillipe and James who are adopting but worry about whether they’d be good parents and Booker becomes their confidante and helps them make sense of the red tapes and bureaucracies - which is easy coz governmental firewalls are nothing to the man who helped set them in place in the first place.

The Martin children who were new to the neighbourhood with parents who were clearly trying to save their marriage to very little success, so they hang out in Booker’s backyard when the fighting gets too loud and he always keeps a key under the frog-shaped pot in case he is at his weekly therapy sessions and they need a glass of water or something. Juliette who was leaving for uni next year but feels overwhelmed about leaving her family comes over for a chat and soon enough some of the older kids in the neighbourhood come by too.

Booker keeps his pantry stock with snack and food options because he can never know who’ll show up - whether it was one of the parents or the kids - so he is always prepared. In turn, the community rapidly weaves him into their lives; he takes summer holidays with his neighbours and everyone plans their Christmas parties so that he can attend each and every one.

And then one day, he manages to pull one of the younger Martin children from a tree but not before the boy sprains a wrist on the fall. Booker brings the neighbourhood brood along with him to the hospital and it’s nothing big and the child was none the worse for wear, but somehow his name pings in the hospital’s system and it brings his family to Paris because hey, his name pinged in a hospital’s system. Andy is worried because she’s mortal now, so what if Booker is too and what if this is a catalyst for him to try yeeting himself off this mortal coil. Joe and Nicky are on tenterhooks the whole time because Booker was and is their lover and while they still need time to heal from the hurt, the idea that Booker is hurting and they’re not there by his side is something they can’t abide by. Nile is just resisting the urge to bang her head on a table because this worry and stress could have been avoided if they’d just listened to her and talked to the man.

Booker isn’t in the hospital obviously but he is at the address he leaves at the hospital. They arrive, ready to spirit him away if they need to, only to find the house filled to the brim with people and laughter and happiness. A teenage girl opens the door and asks if they’re Basti’s friends because they’re out of ice and could they go get some, please? There’s a game on where the clear team supporters are religiously gathered around. In the kitchen, there is something like a cooking marathon happening and the dining table is bowing under the food piled on it. It is simultaneously chaotic and homely and Joe stops a man with a baby to ask where ‘Basti’ is.

They’re all directed to the backyard where Booker is seated on the grass with a small gathering of children and teenagers who are lounging with their books and phones while Booker is reading out loud to the youngest members of this group. The child on his lap has a cast on his arm and sucking on a thumb but seems to be transfixed and calm as Booker does the voices to Beauty and the Beast.

Booker looks radiant and content and healthy and hale and he smiles easily when the children cuddle closer to him and demand for his attention. Joe is struck breathless by the almost unrecognisable way Booker looks in that he is so soft and content and so very alive, while Nicky is speechless at how much his heart spills with love at the kindness he sees in the way Booker treats the children around him and how his home is so filled with people who clearly care and are comfortable with Booker in their lives.

Andy is confused as hell and Nile is ready to drag them all out because Booker seems to be doing well but they do not need to have their reunion right here and now because there are too many strangers around them right now. And that is when Booker looks up to see, oh, it’s them and his face changes from relaxed and calm to tense and guarded. Which doesn’t go unnoticed by the children.

Who all move to put themselves in front of Booker. The Immortals are highly befuddled.

#i think there's enough here for a full length story that i will never write lol #booker loving hours are never off at Chez Gab #joe x booker x nicky #booker x joe x nicky #joe x nicky x booker

68 notes · View notes

yespolkadotkitty · 4 years

Text

The Angel’s Share, chp. 13

Find past chapters here

Written with the incomparable @hopelessromanticspoonie

Kate had obviously lost her only remaining marble.

What made her think that putting on her finest little black dress and swiping some mascara onto her dark eyelashes would be all she needed to fit in with Thomas’ crowd? Every bit of her wanted to tear off the soft, clingy dress, throw on her most comfortable set of pyjamas and veg out in front of the telly.

The buzz of her doorbell jolted her from her spiraling train of thought and she hissed after poking herself in the side of her neck with the stud of her earrings. “Fuck. Coming!”

She should have cleaned up before he arrived, Kate thought as she glanced around the cramped living area of her one bedroom flat. It wasn’t messy, no, but the small space appeared pretty cluttered when full to the brim with overloaded bookshelves and mismatched furniture. Glaring daggers at the dirtied mug and bowl from her quick lunch, she was all too aware of how drastically their living situations differed.

His chocolate-dipped voice easily made it through her thin front door when raised in concern. “Kate?”

No time to do a last minute tidy up. She yanked open her front door and her jaw dropped at the absolutely delicious sight of Thomas in a razor sharp black suit and tie. His head lifted from where he had been staring at the grubby concrete entryway and it felt so cliche, but her heart stopped at the soft, awestruck shine in his fine blue eyes.

“You look..” he appeared to struggle for the proper descriptor as he closed the distance between them to press a soft kiss to the crown of her carefully curled hair.

The nerves nagging her endlessly lessened some at the press of his large hands over her upper arms and the familiar wash of his spicy, citrusy cologne. “Way too hot to be your date, I know. I need to get my shoes and then I’ll be ready. Okay?”

“I will await you with bated breath.”

He tossed out such romantic nonsense like that with such earnest ease that she had no choice but to take him seriously. Her hand squeezed his quickly before she rushed back to her bedroom to slip on her nicest black flats and tuck her cellphone into her only nice clutch (thankfully also black).

“Who is Edmund Evans?”

The only slightly anxious smile fell from her face as she left the bedroom to see Thomas holding a folded up letter with a ring of condensation wrinkling the paper. Dread hung low in her stomach and she swallowed. “My sperm donor. Where did you find that?”

His eyes tightened with that feral fury she had glimpsed in the distillery. “I did not want this foul piece of filth ruining the coffee mug I found atop it. Does he say such awful things to you in each month’s letter?”

“I don’t typically read them,” she admitted, her eyes focusing on the clench of his hands as he crushed the paper in his grip. “But when I used to, he did, yeah.”

The low growl of his voice rumbled through her to clench low in her belly. “I would very much like to acquaint him with my fist.”

“He means nothing. Come on, GQ, let’s go drink some free whiskey and pretend that we actually care about some uptight blowhards.”

“Well. When you put it so nicely.”

*****

Anxiety gripped her after the door to his sleek, black car closed behind them with a wink from Andy. Her hand tightened in the crook of Thomas’ arm as they joined the swell of socialites smiling too brightly in sky high heels, men leering at them down the line of their upturned noses.

Kate didn’t belong here. It was too much. What if Derrick was here? He would pick her out amongst his manicured ranks right away. Thomas would see that she wasn’t good enough for him or his lifestyle and toss her on her shapely ass, leaving her heart in tatters before the shined soles of his slick shoes.

“Breathe, Kate.” His head dipped down low to whisper the words against the shell of her ear. “It is they who are unworthy of you. Now how about a bit of liquid courage?”

It was much easier to play the part of soulless arm candy with the warmth of fine whiskey buzzing beneath her skin. She slipped into the familiar role of smiles, meaningless platitudes, and forced laughter as if she had never left. Thomas was as charming as ever, chatting up businessmen with pound signs in their eyes upon the exchange of business cards and handshakes.

“Allow me to refresh your beverage, sir. Excuse me one moment.”

She watched Thomas walk away with only a slight amount of hesitation before shifting her attention back to the distribution magnate across from her. Holding the glass against her lips with soft music playing beneath the din, her stomach filled with finicky finger foods and smokey liquor, catching the hint of Thomas’ cologne lingering against her skin from his parting kiss to her cheek, she was almost able to enjoy herself. When the conversation shifted to the dashing man currently bellying up to the bar, her forced grin gained a hint of sincerity.

“He is a fine young man and a driven businessman.”

Kate nodded automatically and did a quick, cursory sweep around the wood-paneled lounge. She recognized no one, and it appeared as if everyone who was anyone had arrived for the high-brow event. Affection slipped honey into her words and pulled her rouged lips into a true smile, “He is indeed. As a bar mana-”

“Is he alright?”

The concern in her companion’s tone jerked her gaze over to the bar where Thomas stood ramrod straight, glaring daggers at a man currently invisible to her for the thickness of the crowd. Even from such a distance she could easily pick out the tension pulling his shoulders back. Shit.

“Excuse me.”

She pushed her way through the crowd, uncaring if the whiskey clutched in her white-knuckled hand spilled for the unease rabbiting her heartbeat in her throat. Whatever had happened, they needed to shut it down immediately. She recognized the beginnings of a fight when she saw one, and this was not the time nor the place for it. Too much was on the line for Crimson Peak.

“Thomas, what are you-”

Her worried words died in her throat as she stepped up to his side and lighted a hand upon the tight muscles of his back. The ghost that had haunted her for the entirety of her life, staring back at her from newspapers and tabloids alike, scowled at her in the ruddy, pock-mocked flesh.

She hardly noticed her hand losing its hold on her tumbler, or the sound of shattering of glass as whiskey splashed against her bare legs. “Dad?”

****

Thomas glanced from the jumped-up toff before him to Kate, her face pale and drawn. So this old coot was his precious Kate’s father. Or, sperm donor, as she had so eloquently put it.

Edmund Evans might have been a dapper looking man in his youth, but he’d run to fat now, too much indulgence having bloated his waistline and given him sallow, overfed skin and jowls.

The older man had approached him to talk about Crimson Peak, and Thomas had been chatting away politely until the toff introduced himself. Evans had offered his hand, and Thomas had looked at it, and said “I’d rather not.”

That’s when Kate had arrived.

She looked a vision tonight. Easily worth twenty of these over-coiffed socialite girls. Kate was upfront and honest and real, and in some ways he wished he’d met her before, but perhaps his younger self wouldn’t have been worthy of her.

“Something wrong?” Evans asked, his lips slightly stained with red wine. Then he turned, having belatedly heard his daughter.

Kate looked at Thomas, stricken, and her eyes said no, no, don’t, but Kate had spent her entire life being cast aside as if she didn’t matter, and if Thomas had anything to say about it, it ended here.

“Katherine. What are you doing here?” Evans asked, as if she was a waiter rather than a guest.

“She’s here with me.” Thomas beckoned Kate over, but she stood stock still, a deer in headlights. He’d never seen her so…. cowed, and the shock of it made his anger burn even brighter, lighting a furious fire in his heart. “She is here as my guest, and as such you may not speak to her unless she gives her express permission, are we clear?”

Evans looked from Thomas to his daughter, surprise flickering over his jowly face. “Snagged a rich one here, haven’t you, Katherine? Your mother would be so very proud.”

Kate’s mouth fell open, her face rosy with embarrassment.

Thomas advanced on Evans, looking down his nose at the shorter man, making his expression as icy cold as possible. The rest of the people at the event dropped away, and Thomas’ world narrowed to his desire to give Kate justice.

"Do you have the faintest idea of the brilliant, bright, self-sufficient woman you're missing out on, Evans? Do you? How strong and capable and smart and beautiful she is? I hope you know she neither needs nor wants you in her life, you charlatan."

Kate’s father smirked. “Oh yes, she’s got your wrapped around her little finger, all right. Actually, not so little, by the looks of it. You feeding her as part of the deal?” He shook his head, amused. “Just a whore like her mother, using you for your-”

In the next heartbeat he was on the ground, flat out.

Thomas swore at the pain ripping through his hand, but the sting and soreness was worth it to have flattened the bastard’s nose.

Evans lay on the floor, writhing pathetically, moaning. A few people looked in curiously, but at Thomas’ stone cold glare, no one intervened.

After a second, Thomas knelt on the floor, got right up in the toff’s face. “If you ever write to Kate again, if you ever contact her, I will make you sorry you ever accepted tonight’s invitation, and I will not even have to lift a finger to do it, understand? I will eviscerate you in society. I will ensure that copies of the drivel you write to her are published all over London.”

Evans took a shaky breath intending to speak, but Thomas wasn’t done.

“From now on, if you arrive at an event and you see Kate there, you turn around and leave. Are. We. Clear?”

Evans clutched his nose and nodded weakly, blood leaking from between his thick fingers.

Thomas stood up, dusting off his trousers as if brushing away unpleasantness. He rounded Evans’ body and offered his arm to Kate. “Shall we, my dear?”

Kate closed her mouth, and blinked a few times, recovering. “Wow. You have a mean right hook, GQ.”

He opened his hand and flexed his fingers. “I’ve actually never punched anyone before. It’s…. rather painful.”

Kate lifted his sore hand and brushed her lips over his bruised knuckles. “Let’s get you some ice for that hand. C’mon, sweetheart.”

Thomas’ mood lifted even more as she led him to the bathrooms. “You called me sweetheart.”

A smile curved her lips, so kissable, and he couldn’t resist just dipping his head for a moment, and tasting the honeyed whiskey on her mouth.

Her hand tucked into his elbow and squeezed, as she said cheekily, “Haven’t we established that I don’t hate you?”

Tagging (series): @rjohnson1280 @alexakeyloveloki @villainousshakespeare @wolfsmom1 @arch-venus25 @tamstrugglestowrite @trickstersteve @lucantis @exygon @kneel-before-queen-loki @lots-of-loki

Polkadotkitty’s taglist: @myoxisbroken @palaiasaurus64 @littlemissthistle @mary-ann84 @pinkzsugar @peakygroupie @just-the-hiddles @lovesmesomehiddles @vodka-and-some-sass

#tom hiddleston fic #thomas sharpe fic #co-authors #crimson peak au

54 notes · View notes

thetransguard-archive · 4 years

Text

ok so i Know in my Bones i got tagged for this but i dont recall who tagged me and i cant find the notif so here we go top ten fictional characters thru all fandoms

yusuf al kaysani from the old guard aka king of my heart literally the fastest and hardest Yes Time To Love i have ever experienced in all my 18 years! he swung andy in a big circle and my heart went hm wish that were me!!!

ahsoka tano from star wars LITERALLY the coolest character star wars has ever produced.... her growth her power the way r*sario dawson will never be able to do her right..... trans ahsoka rights also she’s better then all the jedi thats it!

finn from star wars (again) im so sorry king the way that the unoriginal series did him wrong.... his was the most innovative compelling backstory of literally all the star wars main characters and he got SIDELINED AND FOR WHAT ! doublebladed purple lightsaber for him thnx

commander cody from star wars (and again) dude i want more cody content so bad like he and the rest of the vode really. just done SO unbelievably dirty by the franchise and the way that theyve been written out of sw history pretty much drives me insane its not JUST about the jedi oh my god

lev from the last of us 2 oh no literally ive emotionally adopted lev as my little brother like we’re both asian and trans it tracks hes so. !!!! i want to protect him so much the world is so cruel for him

manon blackbeak from the throne of glass series idk fictional women committing acts of incredible violence is very satisfying and shes epic as fuck thats all i can say

jesus from the walking dead the way i stopped watching the show immediately when i heard he died... full offence but i choose not to see it he’s actually retired and living with his husband they have chickens 💖

anne bonny from black sails i love a feral queen shes so cool i love her hat and her sword and the way that she’s both strong and vulnerable like i love duality thats it

poe dameron from star wars (i grew up in this cursed ass fandom ok) i know w w w w he’s han 2.0 but im ignoring whatever that last sequel movie gave us <3 i love him so bad also oscar isaac........ hhhhhhhh

obi wan kenobi from star wars (AGAIN! yeah :/) he’s very sad and it makes me sad also he really just? saddest character arc ever i hope he’s enjoying the afterlife with his husband cody

once again i will not be tagging anyone because i am shy like that 💗

#seph.txt #tagged

4 notes · View notes

gotatext · 5 years

Text

PREFERRED NAME — nora. i think i started going by it in like, 2009?? my full name is eleanor but i hated it n thought it was way too pretentious n i never felt like it fitted me so when i started writing on forums i decided i’d be a nora rather than eleanor and then my school friends called me it and it just kinda stuck, the only person who calls me eleanor is my mum

PRONOUNS — she / her / ethereal being beyond comprehension

AGE — 23 but i tell everyone im 21 because even tho time is literally fake im desperately clinging to that fleeting thing we call youth trying to catch it like smoke in my hands

PINTEREST — i actually have two. this one is my main one where i just cram all my shit n i’ve had it for years and some of its super unorganised. then i also have this one which is one i made for exclusively female characters. it started as mythological figures but now its like, women in literature and the occasional oc as well. variety is the spice of life!

DISCORD — lindsay lohan’s meth#8664

TUMBLR (PERSONAL/MUSE/RPH) — i used to be froseths but now im pvrscphones cos ya gal is a fucking whore for mythology

OTHER SOCIAL MEDIA YOU’D LIKE TO SHARE — oi oi guvna ere’s me twitta. also here’s my letterboxd n my goodreads if anyone still uses tht

MYER-BRIGGS — enfp / infp border .... the classic profile of a lit student

HP HOUSE — hufflepuff, am fuckin mad.

ZODIAC — libra which is a joke because i am in no way balanced but i guess i AM indecisive and a peacekeeper so?

DO YOU BELIEVE IN ASTROLOGY? — i believe it when it says good shits gonna happen in my life and blame it if bad shit happens but i don’t strongly follow it i just find it interesting

HOW OLD WERE YOU WHEN YOU STARTED RPING ON TUMBLR — maybe like 14?? my first rp blog here is literally so embarassing i wrote as clove from the hunger games n my best friend irl wrote cato :/ it was wild

WHAT YEAR WAS IT? — like 9 years ago?? 2010 maybs

NAME A RANDOM ROLEPLAY THAT STICKS OUT IN YOUR MEMORY — me n my friend ellie made this really cool group the summer before we left for uni which was loosely based on a concept mentioned mayb once in the divergent series, but it gave us loads of freedom to make it our own thing. it was called the fringe n it was like..... this dystopian society where people with different genes were cut off from the rest of society n lived in overrun slum cities where different groups had like, a monopoly over weapons, produce, etc.... my character jack was the leader of this lost-boy-esque tribe called the wolf pack who were hunters n used to run across the rooftops wearing the skins of animals they’d killed and engage in tribal rituals with sacrifices to the gods n shit. sounds lame but everyone there was so invested in their character arcs that it was a shame to see it go. but ! it kind of reached its end point so we blew it up w nukes n they all died. tragic.

WHAT WEIRD ANIMAL WOULD YOU HAVE AS A PET IF IT WAS REALISTIC — a fox?? do ppl keep foxes? idk i’ve always just felt a sense of connection w them like when a fox stares at me im like this shit is life i am living and breathing in this bitch.... visceral

NAME THE FIRST SONG ON YOUR DISCOVER WEEKLY ON SPOTIFY OR THE FIRST SONG THAT COMES ON APPLE MUSIC / ITUNES SHUFFLE — everbody party tonight by cobra man n summer girl by haim..... not my usual stuff but big summer chillin vibes,.....

NAME A BOOK THAT YOU READ IN SCHOOL THAT YOU SURPRISINGLY LIKED — lord of the flies and also the handmaid’s tale. one of assignments was to write a chapter from another character’s perspective n i chose moira

NAME A BOOK YOU HATED THAT MOST PEOPLE LIKED — skellig. fuck off with ur asprin ugly bat man i don’t care. also of mice and men. don’t care about the rabbits or curley’s goddamn wife.

WHAT TV SHOW DID YOU RECENTLY BINGE? — im not a big binger bc i find it jst makes me depressed if i watch tv all day but im nearly finished stranger things season 3 n i recently finished euphoria (big rec but proceed w caution as quite triggering content)

FAVOURITE QUOTE — cool girl speech from gone girl. but also “there’s something dangerous about the boredom of teenage girls” i know its like.... such an overused quote but it really encapsulates this kind of feral girlhood that a few of my characters like bridget n greta have tapped into. i also loved the line “i feel like i could eat the world raw” from song of achilles, that really captures this kind of.... pure n childlike enthusiasm tht i wanna achieve w rory

LINK TO A VINE THAT EXUDES YOUR ‘ENERGY’ — this is my energy completely am always covered in glitter n staring broodily out of the windows of ubers at 4am like im in the sad bit of an indie film

DO YOU WRITE OUTSIDE OF RP? WHAT DO YOU WRITE? — uhh.... not as much as i shd.... i want to be a writer so i shd be makin some effort to get my stuff Out Into The World but im just not.... lol. ive done a lot of poetry collections . i wnt to finish a novel @ some point too.

THREE YOUTUBERS YOU STILL TRUST — bold of you to assume i trust any youtubers

A CELEBRITY CRUSH THAT JUST WON’T QUIT — id literally die for saoirse ronan n timothee chalamet :/ chance perdomo also owns my ass.

EVER MEET A CELEBRITY? SHARE YOUR STORY — i once high-fived dani harmer, the actress who played tracy beaker. today my sister text me tryin to make me guess what celebrity she just saw on holiday in wales and for ages she let me think it was timmothee but it was actually bradley walsh from the chase :/

WHAT’S YOUR PICTURE-PERFECT NIGHT? — i am in a bomb ass crop top and mini skirt, several scrunchies in my hair, glitter all over my face, wearing cowboy boots. we eat dinner in a trendy but affordable pub that doubles up as a cocktail bar n then we drink zombies or sex on the beaches n go to a rave where everyone is on the same wavelength n i share drugs with girls in the toilets and we swap numbers knowing we will never text each other but its ok bc in that moment we feel like we are soulmates and everyone is super drunk n touching everyone else n its all very visceral and we walk through the woods when the rave ends and lie in the grass because we wish to suck out all the marrow of life

A CONSPIRACY THEORY YOU KINDA BELIEVE IN — princess diana was murdered

ARE ALIENS REAL? — maybe the real aliens are the friends we made along the way

PLAY ANY PHONE GAMES? WHICH ONES? — love island game im addicted and way too invested in my fictional relationship with bobby, a cartoon

WHAT’S A FILM YOU LOVED WHEN YOU WERE YOUNG AND RECENTLY WATCHED, ONLY TO FIND OUT YOU DON’T ANYMORE — bold of u to assume i remember my childhood. but if we’re talking last 10 years angust, thongs n perfect snogging is so so cringe

DO YOU COLLECT ANYTHING? — pairs of glasses belonging to other ppl when they break / get new ones even though i can see perfectly well.

WHAT’S SOMETHING YOU WANT TO LEARN MORE ABOUT BUT YOU’RE TOO LAZY? — mythology...... always a craving and a wish i’d read like ancient texts but my school wasn’t good enough to do greek or latin or any of that shit n even tho i could read english translations i cant be bothered. also criminal psychology

THREE LANGUAGES YOU DON’T SPEAK, BUT WISH YOU COULD — italian, french and latin

MOVIE YOU’VE WATCHED MORE THAN 5 TIMES — ladybird, about time, angus thongs, shrek 2, what we do in the shadows, the history boys, atonement, coraline, the breakfast club, ferris bueller’s day off

NAME A FICTIONAL CHARACTER FROM TV/FILM/MOVIE/GAME/BOOK THAT YOU FIND YOURSELF PROJECTING ON / YOU RELATE TO — cecilia lisbon. rue in euphoria. alison brie in glow. adam parrish in the raven cycle. richard papen. olivia cooke’s character in thoroughbreds. allen ginsberg in kill your darlings. lily in sex education. holliday grainger’s character in the film animals --- i too am an aspiring writer who never writes and just gets drunk instead .

DO YOU FOLLOW ANY SPORTS? WHO DO YOU ROOT FOR? — no. cba

HOBBIES BESIDES WASTING AWAY HERE? — i go to the movies basically every day bcos i work in a cinema. im also a voracious reader n i occasionally do theatre or costume making

PLUG A TV SHOW / MOVIE / BOOK / VIDEO GAME / ETC… YOU WISH MORE PEOPLE WOULD CHECK OUT — where the wild things are (film by spike jonze). animals. beats. the book fen by daisy johnson and a girl is a half formed thing by eimar mcbride. andy warhol’s biography from a to b and back again

WHOSE BRAIN WOULD YOU LIKE TO PICK, ALIVE OR DEAD? — phoebe waller-bridge on how i get her life. carey mulligan on how she got to be such a good actress n how i can become her. maybs wes anderson. maybs gillian flynn. i tend to listen to podcasts w the ppl i really wanna pick the brains of.

TEAM EDWARD OR JACOB? — edward :/

LAST MOVIE SEEN IN THEATRE — blinded by the light n i lovd it

DO YOU STILL READ? — when i finished uni i kinda got out of the habit but this week i finished two books so ive set myself the challenge of a book a week.

IF SO, WHAT ARE YOU CURRENTLY READING? — i finished song of achilles yesterday n i also finished call me by your name yesterday. started circe by madeline miller today, im also partway through milkman by anna burns and the plays of annie barker

ON A SCALE OF 1-10, HOW MUCH DID YOU HATE FILLING THIS OUT? – 3 i didnt hate it bcos at heart i am self-indulgent and love fashioning some sense of self when i feel lost in a world that is scary and constantly changing

#wshedtask002

9 notes · View notes

glitterandrocketfuel · 6 years

Text

The Feral (pt. 3)

Another chapter for @laudanumcafe as our plucky, intrepid alpha falls further into the clutches of...The Feral

Patrick came to sometime later. He blinked twice before he realized it was pitch-dark. The scent--the delightful, arousing, alluring, make-me-do-stupid-things scent--sat like a thick coating on his tongue. He made to wipe his face when he realized his hands were tied above his head. He scrabbled with his fingers and found his bonds were strips of fabric. Maybe he could tear through--

Patrick licked dry lips and wondered where his glasses had gotten to. Other than being tied up, he seemed to be unhurt, and the blankets underneath him were oddly comfortable. He still wore the hoodie which he now understood to belong to the Omega hiding out here.

He tried to catalog what he knew of his situation. The last thing he remembered was the scent growing stronger as he stood at the top of the stairwell leading to the basement door, and then the attack from behind. In fact, his shoulder blades still hurt.

He shifted his shoulders to try to find a marginally more comfortable position and another wave of Omega-scent came through the blankets underneath him. Okay, so he was on a pile of blankets. Tied to--he wriggled his fingers again and found--yes, those are real iron pipes, ladies and gentlemen. He sighed.

A quiet rumble stopped his movements cold. His sharp, indrawn breath only drew in more of the crazy-making scent and he realized he was probably marinating in it.

He squinted vainly in the gloom, trying to catch another glimpse of his captor. He could hear the omega moving, pacing with an even, quick gait, but maintaining distance on the other side of the empty basement. "H-hello?" Patrick kept his voice as softly-pitched as possible. Try not to antagonize the person who attacked you and tied you up, Stump, he told himself. Especially when the scent that surrounded him--the blend of old and fresh and calm and distressed--heavy on the distress--and so complex he could burrow into it.

The rumble came again, this time accompanied by the shuffle of feet. Patrick squinted--he could make out the blurry shapes of high windows and street lights filtering in to cast long bars of weak light over the floor.

A crouched figure crossed one of the stripes. Patrick caught a flash of dark hair partly obscuring his captor's face and a lithe, compact frame. Patrick was certain it was a him from the masculine notes in the scent. If he had more time and his own body stopped throwing off fear-scent, he could probably identify more things about his captor. As it was, "omega" and "male" were the two most obvious.

But coming up hard on the heels in the number three spot? "Heat-onset." Patrick's stomach twisted low and a burn started at the base of his spine. Not quite like his ruts, when they hit, but a shadow of them. A response, he realized. Pheromones were a hell of a thing to kick in now, when he'd been able to maintain blissful ignorance for so long. The omega passed under one of the windows, shaggy hair falling in his face and restless, wary desperation radiating from him. Right then and there, Patrick made a decision. Whatever happened, he wouldn't let his knot override his sense.

"Omega?"

Patrick had experienced ruts before, but never around an unclaimed omega. He'd been around Joe during his friend's heat-onset days, but Joe always had an alpha--usually Andy--lined up to temporarily claim him with scent, and Patrick never felt the need to challenge Andy over Joe. Or anything, really. And Patrick made himself scarce when he felt an alpha rut coming on.

He had a beta girlfriend during one rut, and they experimented with his knot. But she ended up a little freaked out about Patrick's unusual, non-standard alpha behavior when he wouldn't--couldn't--growl her into submission. "Being with an alpha is all hype and nothing like the movies," he'd heard her telling a girlfriend some time after they'd broken up but remained friends.

Because of that, he'd never sought out any omegas in either his rut or their heat. The last thing he wanted was to fail an omega when they needed an alpha to claim or defend them.

"Alpha." The name coming from the other end of the room was an epithet.

Patrick licked dry lips. "Y-yes." He inhaled through his nose. The scent threatened to overwhelm him but he picked out subtle notes of present distress and past misery and his heart ached.

The omega snarled again--almost sort of words? "Alpha…never again…make you…make you all pay…"

Oh god. Those were not words anyone should have to hear--or say. "Hey," Patrick said, trying to put into his words a calm he didn't feel. The omega's distress scent grew stronger and Patrick jerked against his bonds in response, curling his fingers into claws. "Hey, whatever I did, look--I'm sorry. I'll go. Just--untie me. You'll never see me again."

"You trespassed. Came into my nest."

This is a nest. This sad pile of discarded clothing and blankets is his nest. This is a nest. This whole place…is an omega's nest.

With one wary eye on the other side of the room, where the omega prowled in the shadows, Patrick catalogued the environment. He lay on the pile of blankets at floor level--no canopied bower, not even a simple bed, no pillows. He could make out several blankets, most of them scratchy wool that smelled like the Army-Navy surplus store. When he turned his head, his cheek brushed up against a balled-up wad of denim, and he could detect hints of leather under his hip.

Against his will and against all sense or reasoning, Patrick's heart clenched. "Poor thing," he whispered. What kind of awful circumstance left an omega with such a meager nest?

He learned in Concordance classes that omegas were practically defined by their nests. Patrick had even helped Andy and Marie plan out Joe's nesting shower when he and Andy had become a bonded pair. Patrick's woodworker cousin had made them a custom-designed bower and canopy frame in his woodshop big enough for the three of them. Andy and Marie painted the pieces, and Patrick helped assemble it in the bedroom they'd chosen as a nest. Their friends had all come with nesting gifts--pillows, blankets, panels of heavy and light fabrics for bower drapes, sachets in Joe's favorite colors with scents like citrus and sandalwood and vanilla. Patrick wired both the canopied bower and the nest room with surround sound speakers and a sound system with a remote control.

Joe's nest, like Joe, would be filled with music, comfort, air flow, his favorite scents, and his favorite people, furnished with love and kindness by people who cared about him.

This nest was dirty cast-off clothes and grimy, donated blankets on a bare dirt floor in an abandoned basement.

Patrick swallowed. "I didn't mean--I just wanted to find out who--"

An explosion of movement shot the other figure across the room and he was suddenly at Patrick's side, chest heaving and low growling rumbling out of his throat. "You stole my scent!"

Patrick flinched as the omega's fingers curled into the front of his hoodie.

"You stole it and mixed it with yours! You can't have me!"

Patrick twisted away from the omega, whose warmth surrounded him and made his instincts fight against his common sense. His wrists burned, reminding him that the omega had attacked and tied him up. He should absolutely be fighting to escape with every fiber of his being.

But the scent surrounded him. The warmth enveloped him. His instincts taunted him. He needs you. The omega sprang back just as quickly as he'd pounced, returning to the corner and crouching down on his haunches. He's confused. He needs someone to put him in his place.

Patrick rejected that notion outright. That was TV-alpha talk. "I don't--" He didn't finish the response, because it'd be a lie. He did want the omega, or at least his body did. "I didn't steal your scent." He wriggled his shoulders, sliding his body down in an effort to push up the hoodie he still wore. "You can have your jacket back. I was just looking for the owner so I could return…it…" he trailed off as the omega approached, staying close to the shadows.

"You came…to steal me…" The omega stalked closer, the growl rumbling up from his chest.

Patrick tried to swallow his body's response, keep it locked down behind his sternum. I'm in a nest, he finally realized, his mouth going dry. I'm an alpha in an omega's nest. His heart started to pound, unnaturally loud in the gloom.

There was only one reason an alpha ever entered an omega's nest.

The omega's fingers brushed his hair. Patrick couldn't help it. He started to purr.

#the feral #omegaverse #peterick #laudanumcafe

4 notes · View notes

rooftopprendezvous · 7 years

Text

Protective/Supportive Aaron

For @bartsugsy and @sapphicsugden as requested (Includes some paraphrasing.)

•6th February 2015 Remember that one minor incident when Aaron sent Robert away to get married and rid Wylie’s of any evidence that they were ever there and continued to keep that secret even after he found out Robert pushed Katie. Which is the only reason Robert’s gorgeous ass hasn’t been rotting away in a prison cell for the last two years. But no big deal. Just Aaron saving Robert on a daily basis. •9th February 2015 Aaron’s new mantra where Robert and Katie’s death are concerned “It’s not his fault!” •10th February 2015 The slap heard round the world when mama bear Chas turns feral on her cub because Aaron dares to blame Katie for sticking her nose where it doesn’t belong. Obviously it was Katie’s fault Robert burnt down her caravan. •11th February 2015 Go ahead and tell Chrissie I’ve been boning her husband mum and WE ARE DONE!!! •9th April 2015 BTW Paddy. I totally text Katie and told her to meet me at Wylie’s that day. It was all totes my fault and you shouldn’t blame Robert for anything! EVER!!! •12th May 2015 God Robert why are you such a human disastercase getting drunk off a single pint (👀👀👀) of whiskey? Let me help you back to the pub, get you a glass of water and kindly let you sneak in a little snog. •13th May 2015 *Clears throat* Excuse me Chrissie, I might have been one of the people who broke into your house so I know for a fact Robert’s super sorry about it. Now can you please take your sad sack of a husband back? (Even if I still kind of sort of love him and want him to be mine.) •25th June 2015 Cain my man! I know Robert might look really good with a bruised face but you still can’t beat the hell out of him like this. Here babes. Let me help you home and pretend it has nothing to do with my ongoing struggle over how much I still love you. K…K…cool. •21st July 2015 Geez “Dad”! My boyfriend’s a total idiot who likes to run his mouth off but stop making up lies and saying he tried to bury you in a grain pit. While you’re at it stay away from me! •25th September 2015 (Also 22nd October 2015) Listen dude, I really hate you but I’m still going to cry over your bleeding body while I try to stop the life from leaving you and decide if I really want you to live or die. •18th March 2016 *Chokes on beer* LIV! It’s super inappropriate to ask someone what it’s like getting shot and we defs don’t ask to see the scar. (Side eye…especially since I still haven’t seen it yet.) •5th April 2016 So the thing is Robert, my little sister is a bit confused right now and she recorded you saying you bribed Ryan. Now we both know that was a really ridic move on your part but you’ve been super amazing and taken care of me a lot and I really don’t want anything to happen to you for protecting me so I’ll try to do the same for you. •10th May 2016 Hey now missy! I will tolerate a lot but I draw the line at comparing my boyfriends godlike face to that of a rodent. Show some respect. You know I missed out on some…..tea time…with him yesterday because of you. • 6th June 2016 Okay I’ve been in jail enough times to know the rules so you need to let my guy go before I really start to lose it. And you Olivia Flaherty take a good look at everything Robert has done recently because guess what. THAT’S LOVE! ALL OF IT WAS BECAUSE HE LOVES ME! •14 July 2016 *Staring at Robert dreamily* What’s that officer? I was busy mooning over him calling me his boyfriend. Oh yeah. He DEFINITELY bought me a super sweet expensive watch back in February. •16 August 2016 Babe that purse doesn’t really go with your outfit AND NEITHER WILL HANDCUFFS IF YOU GET SENT DOWN FOR HELPING YOUR BROTHER. Please don’t risk your life and our future for that. I can’t lose you. •17 August 2016 Fiiiiiiiiine……..I’ll help you take down Lachlan and the Whites (even though I dont really think it’s a good idea) but we have to be super careful or someone (namely us) could get hurt. •31 August 2016 Lachlan: I’m gonna kill you. Aaron: Human shield activate. Robert: That was hot as hell! He is so getting laid tonight. •17 October 2016 Hey there Lachlan! Let me show you what happens when vile little cretins such as yourself threaten my love and my life. First, you get your head shoved in this conveniently placed barrel of water. Then thrown in the boot of my car. •20 October 2016 ROBERT PLEASE GET OUT OF THIS FUCKING CAR! I’M SCARED OF DYING BUT I LOVE YOU SO MUCH AND I NEED YOU TO LIVE! •08 November 2016 Diane, Robert was just trying to help Andy and do what he thought was best for your family. *mumbles under breath* Not that any of you would ever notice or appreciate the way he bends over backwards for you anyways. • 11th November 2016 Here love. Let me rub your back and console you while you mourn your mother. Sorry your siblings couldn’t make it. •1st December 2016 THE HE’S MINE BACK OFF LADY DEATH STARE!!! If looks could kill Rebecca would be long gone and this storyline would never have happened. (I’m counting it! Fight me!) •5th January 2017 I’m sorry Chrissie, remind me again how it’s Robert’s fault Lachlan shot your dad? Pretty sure he picked that gun up all on his own. So stop ruining my birthday! •20th January 2017 Robert you really are a total flaming idiot if you don’t take this opportunity to run a mile because I’m not good for you. •21st February 2017 Robert Jacob Sugden you are amazing! You did everything in your power to give me the wedding of my dreams and more importantly than that you chose the pub where I was dared you to stand up and proudly announce to everyone who and what you are. •21st February 2017 Whoa there Diane how about we get you a drink and avoid talking about Jack. (Because he totally didn’t deserve someone as incredible as Robert. He should have loved him unconditionally and if he was here today I’d probably knock him on his ass for messing with this beautiful man’s head.) Although, babe you really should think about talking to Vic and Diane about it. It might help you to move on. •6th April 2017 OMG babe! I’m so sorry I accidentally punched you’re perfect beautiful face. (This time I really didn’t mean it.) Here let me caress it softly and make it all better. There there now. •12th April 2017 Listen Robert we both know you didn’t get that tummy by running on the regular. Save yourself and go home before you keel over and die. I’ll be fine. (Okay so it’s a stretch but I feel a tummy mention is just expected of me at this point.)

#robron #emmerdale #i feel like this got a bit ridiculous and out of hand so i hope it's what you were looking for #also my first list ended in november so this is a bit longer than i originally stated #and maybe these aren't all super huge or demonstrative moments #but the way aaron protects/supports robet is a lot like the way he loves him #not always loud and in your face but no less real #as always thank you to apositivelifeaffirmingway for the feedback #everyone needs a michelle #your new tag btw

181 notes · View notes

buttrflyisland · 7 years

Text

I was tagged by @sparklingpidge! It’s been a while since i actually did one of these!

Rules: Answer these 92 statements and tag 20 people

THE LAST: 1. Drink: dr pepper 2. Phone call: my dentist 3. Text message: actually was texting @trash-for-trash-son 4. Song you listened to: Computer Boy by That Poppy 5. Time you cried: I’m eternally crying

HAVE YOU: 6. Dated someone twice: yo I ain’t ever dated somebody 7. Kissed someone and regretted it: ain’t ever kissed anybody either 8. Been cheated on: hahaha 9. Lost someone special: yeah…multiple times 10. Been depressed: yyyyep 11. Gotten drunk and thrown up: yo I ain’t ever drank

LIST 3 FAVORITE COLORS: 12-14: blue, green, and scarlet

IN THE LAST YEAR HAVE YOU: 15. Made new friends: beccer boo 16. Fallen out of love: not out of love…out of like, yes 17. Laughed until you cried: it’s one of my favorite things and yes I have done that within the past week 18. Found out someone was talking about you: hahahahaha yep :)))) 19. Met someone who changed you: I have no idea like…I meet people who I really love but I don’t know what counts as change. Like drastic change, I don’t think so…but a lot of people have changed things like the way I talk 20. Found out who your friends are: :)))))))) 21. Kissed someone on your Facebook list: I don’t have facebook

GENERAL: 22. How many of your Facebook friends do you know in real life: I don’t have facebook 23. Do you have any pets: I have an orange cat named Pop and then there’s two ferals and a stray cat outside. The ferals are both orange polydactyls named Bigfoot and Brother, and the stray is a tabby tuxedo named Thomas 24. Do you want to change your name: I would love to change my name I hate my name so much. My fave name is Ollie, but I don’t know if I would want that to be my legal name 25. What did you do for your last Birthday: I don’t remember tbh 26. What time did you wake up: 7:57 am 27. What were you doing at midnight last night: watching youtube 28. Name something you can’t wait for: …I have no idea? Anti’s return? 29. When was the last time you saw your mom: when I came home from work this evening 30. What is one thing you wish you could change in your life: I wish I could change what my future holds right now. At the moment, it seems that the only thing I can be is a drafter but I really want to just…write or create in some way. 31. What are you listening right now: I just have Prop Hunt episodes playing in the background 32. Have you ever talked to a person named Tom: I work with two people named Tommy, does that count? 33. Something that is getting on your nerves: the people I work with. Not the Tommys 34. Most visited Website: probs youtube

LOST QUESTIONS. I JUST PUT IN RANDOM INFO ABOUT ME 35. Mole/s: One on my back, one on my right arm 36. Mark/s: I have a bunch of eczema scars because all I do is scraaaaaatch 37. Childhood dream: to meet ash ketchum 38. Haircolor: auburn 39. Long or short hair: short, but growing out (hopefully it’ll be dodie length by christmas 40. Do you have a crush on someone: not at the moment glad that’s over 41. What do you like about yourself: I’m fucking hilarious 42. Piercings: scary 43. Bloodtype: uhhh…O something 44. Nickname: Andi is my most common nickname, but I’ve also been called, and will answer to, Andichele, Fred, and George 45. Relationship status: single bruhhh 46. Zodiac: virgo 47. Pronouns: they/them 48. Favorite TV Show: Chopped and Voltron 49. Tattoos: I ain’t got any 50. Right or left hand: left handed! 51. Surgery: I have had my tonsils taken out as well as tubes put in my ears. 52. Hair dyed in different color: I’ve had blonde highlights and I just used bright red henna to make it redder 53. Sport: I played soccer until 3rd grade 54. (question wasn’t here) 55. Vacation: always go to Pigeon Forge in Tennessee! 56. Pair of trainers: I have a pair of nikes and I hate them. I hate tennis shoes so much

MORE GENERAL: 57. Eating: all I eat is pizza 58. Drinking: all I drink is dr pepper and coke 59. I’m about to: continue watching prop hunt viddies 62. Want: to be truly happy 63. Get married: …it is a possibility. Hell, I’d get married to a friend for tax benefits 64. Career: I want to be a writer/author but I’m probably gonna be a drafter

WHICH IS BETTER 65. Hugs or kisses: huuuuuuugs 66. Lips or eyes: eyeeeees 67. Shorter or taller: taller so hugs are better 68. Older or younger: I guess older but not by much 70. Nice arms or nice stomach: tummy tummy tummy tummy 71. Sensitive or loud: sensitive 72. Hook up or relationship: relationship 73. Troublemaker or hesitant: hesitant

HAVE YOU EVER: 74. Kissed a Stranger: noperoony 75. Drank hard liquor: nah 76. Lost glasses/contact lenses: man I lose my glasses when they’re on my face 77. Turned someone down: people would have to ask me out first 78. Sex on the first date: hahahahahhaa 79. Broken someone’s heart: I have no clue 80. Had your heart broken: :))))) 81. Been arrested: nooooope 82. Cried when someone died: I’ve only ever not cried once when someone I knew died 83. Fallen for a friend: platonically but never like romantically. I love my friends to the point I would give up everything for them and I just loooove my friends, but I don’t think I’ve ever fallen fallen

DO YOU BELIEVE IN: 84. Yourself: next question 85. Miracles: yeee 86. Love at first sight: I believe that people can fall in love at first sight, but not have it last. I mean, I’ve temporarily fallen in love with strangers simply because they were just too pretty and too nice 87. Santa Claus: who doesn’t?????????????? OBVIOUSLY if there is anyone to believe in for this hellish time, it is THE mr claus 88. Kiss on the first date: depends

OTHER: 90. Current best friend name: Theo 91. Eyecolor: hazel 92. Favorite movie: Lilo and Stitch!

tagging: no you can’t make me

2 notes · View notes