#bub's writing

[bubbledtee]

ᴛʜᴇ ꜰᴀʀᴍᴇʀ'ꜱ ᴅᴀᴜɢʜᴛᴇʀ

Warnings: smoking, drinking, social anxiety, sexual references

Word count: 4.8k

beta-read by @30-3am

contents

playlist

✧.* "In a small corner bar he sits there a-drinkin'. Lost as a ball in a field full of corn. Further away than he ever imagined that he'd ever end up from the place he was born." ~ "Creeker", Tyler Childers ✧.*

a/n: this shit took so long to get out i'm giggling

»»——⍟——««

🇳​​🇪​​🇼​ ​🇨​​🇴​​🇼​​🇧​​🇴​​🇾​ ​🇮​​🇳​ ​🇹​​🇴​​🇼​​🇳​ (Ch. 1)

January 22nd, 1994 - La Veta, CO

Bea held herself in the passenger seat of Zoe’s red Buick LeSabre, the well-below-freezing Colorado weather penetrating the vehicle despite shut windows and cranked heat. She cursed herself for letting Abigail convince her to wear the black, form-fitting turtle-neck dress from her closet, wishing she had opted for a nice pair of blue jeans and a warm sweater instead. She just hoped the heating at the old dive bar would suffice not to freeze her to death tonight.

“Don’t look so sad, B! You’re seein’ the outside world for once,” Abigail’s Kentucky accent was thicker than usual as she pushed Bea’s shoulder slightly from the backseat. “You’re too wrapped up with those damn horses, you need a night off!”

Bea looked behind her into the backseat. The tall, southern blonde held a cigarette between her long, thin fingers, her hand hanging lazily as she balanced her elbow on her knee. Someone walking down the street would know the girl was a Southern beauty just from a glance. She wore too much makeup and an excessive amount of pink that was an eyesore to anybody in their right mind, but most men she was after didn’t so much care about her style as they did about what the dress hid from their perverted gaze.

Bea giggled. “I’m not sad, Abby. I’m just fucking freezing,” she told her, snatching the cigarette from Abigail’s fingers. She brought the lipstick-stained stick up to her mouth and took a long drag, the burn that began to fill her chest, warming her from the inside out. She held the smoke in as she handed the cigarette to Audrey, the girl brushing her ginger curls from her freckled face.

“I shouldn’t have let you convince me to wear this god-awful dress. I’m freezing and I look ridiculous,” Bea grumbled.

There was a collective chorus of ‘no’s’ as soon as she uttered the self-deprecating words, “Shut your mouth, you look gorgeous. You’re just not used to seeing yourself cleaned up!” Zoe insisted, momentarily averting her gaze from the barren and beat-up road to look at Bea. The brunette wore a dubious expression with an eye roll, and Zoe gently hit her arm in retaliation. “I’m serious!”

“And even if you didn’t look good, you’ve gotta be confident. It makes anything look good,” Audrey chimed from the back seat, “I mean, it even makes Abby’s dresses look good on her.”

The already-tipsy blonde gasped beside her, “Fuck you!” she playfully exclaimed, shoving Audrey slightly. “They look good either way,”

The other girls laughed, “Yeah, maybe at some hick beauty pageant in Kentucky.” Audrey rebutted, her face twisted into a wicked grin as she poked fun at her friend.

Bea just shook her head and laughed, watching from the car’s front window. She watched as the sign that read ‘LA VETA’ grew closer and closer until the vehicle eventually passed it - her eyes shifting to the tiny rows of buildings that now enclosed the road on either side.

The minuscule town was one she knew well, memories of walking along the sidewalks with her parents and brothers immediately flooding her mind every time she crossed the threshold. It was the closest town to Lone Wolf Ranch with any civilization, meaning it was the only place the family could shop, eat out, or anything in between. The only times Bea went into town was to buy herself new tack and blankets for horses, or when her friends dragged her into a night out–just like tonight. 

The car slowly pulled into the Magpie Inn’s tiny parking lot, Zoe leaning forward slightly to search for an open parking space. Bea looked around, too, searching for any cars she knew. The number of old F-250s and Silverado 3500s that crowded the parking lot made it evident enough that the place would be full of cowboys who had been enjoying their day off at the bar since before noon. And just as she had expected, she recognized almost every vehicle there.

After a minute, Zoe pulled the car into one of the last open parking spots in the lot and shut the vehicle off. The group hopped out before swiftly shuffling toward the bar's front doors, attempting to preserve their warmth as much as possible.

Bea could hear the buzz of the neon sign that hung beside the door as they approached it, its bright lights flashing ‘OPEN’. The warmth of the light almost seemed to radiate off the sign and reach her, and she could feel her face warm slightly as they approached the door.

However, warmth enveloped her significantly stronger when Audrey opened the building’s doors. Not only that, but the pungent stench of liquor and beer that doused everyone’s breath inside found her too, all of it topped off by the booming sound of a country band that sat at the other side of the establishment–playing an upbeat tune.

As they entered the room, Bea practically hid behind her friends like a small child. She felt so stupid for being shy around people she had mainly known for years, but she couldn’t help the embarrassment that flooded her as she imagined what everybody thought about the girl being dressed up like she was. All she could imagine was negativity and internalized insults of all types.

Zoe suddenly pulled Bea from her negative thoughts as she spoke, “Come on, let’s get you a drink. You need something to help you loosen up,” She softly grabbed Bea’s hand and led her toward the bar, carefully weaving through the crowd of drunk cowboys and tradesmen alike. She thought a few blurs of faces seemed familiar, but she was thankful she didn’t have the time to do a double take as she and Zoe reached the bar. 

Bea leaned over the bar as her counterpart ordered their drinks, her voice bubbly as she did so. She looked down the bar to her left and observed the folks who sat on the old, cracked leather seat stools along the wooden barrier. Most were older men her father knew well–ones that had long been left by their wives and now drink themselves to death by their lonesome. Some of them make their way from those ruts and redeem themselves as her father and her brother, Johnny, had, but others have no desire to fix themselves. Such as her brother Tommy. She shook the thought from her head as Zoe handed her a Heineken, the cold condensation freezing her fingertips.

She sipped the beer lightly, letting the cold bubbles spread across her tongue and sting slightly down her throat. She never was much of a fan of beer, the scent of the hops often ruining her enjoyment of the otherwise refreshing drink, but right then, she really didn’t seem to mind. Anything that would slightly calm her nerves was worth whatever it might take.

The two walked back toward the other girls, Zoe carrying their beers with her own. Bea followed close behind her as though she were a lost puppy looking for her mother; if she were quite honest, she felt like she was.

They reached Audrey and Abby, and Zoe handed them their drinks. Joking words were shared between the three as Bea’s gaze turned longingly toward the door. She felt pathetic for how much she wanted to leave, like such a nuisance to her poor friends who simply wanted to take her from the nights they deemed lonely. But she didn’t quite enjoy seeing so many longtime family friends (or foes) in one place simultaneously.

As her mind drifted off and her gaze lingered on the door, a tall, blonde cowboy walked through the ingress. He looked almost anxious as he tucked his hands into his Storm Rider’s pockets and glanced around the room, his eyes catching Bea’s. Even from a distance, she could admire the icy blue irises beneath his beaten and dirty cowboy hat. She’d never seen him before.

Before she could longer study his handsome and rugged features, a tap on her shoulder made her head whip in the opposite direction.

“You okay, babe?” Zoe asked her with a tilt of her head, her eyes soft.

Bea nodded quickly with a flushed face. “Yeah… Yeah, I’m good.” She sent a forced smile her friend's way and watched as Zoe’s gaze shifted beyond her and toward the bar. A grin slowly crept onto her face before looking back at Bea.

“He’s cute,” she muttered, causing the pink flush of Bea’s face to turn bright red. Bea rolled her eyes and looked away from Zoe and down at her shoes, almost ashamed. Ever since her last long-term boyfriend left her high and dry two years ago, she hadn’t much tried to find a new lover. Sure, she’d had a rebound or two when she was slumped after the breakup, and she’d tried to have them fill the emptiness that lingered within her heart, but it was either too soon or not enough. So she’d simply given up after a year and decided she’d focus on her father’s ranch rather than a lover. It would be more simple that way, she thought.

However, her desire for a lover had been growing within the prior months, and maybe that’s what gave her the final push to go out with the other girls that night. But she wasn’t sure.

Zoe’s face scrunched in slight disgust as she looked back at the blonde man, “Ugh, but that haircut…” she grimaced, making Bea turn her head to look at him. He had removed his cowboy hat, and his hair was long, with the sides and top cut to make a long mullet. It was reminiscent of a haircut that her sophomore-year boyfriend, Donovan, had had. But she didn’t mind. She supposed the poor choice of haircut was brave in its own kind of way.

“It’s not horrible,” she murmured, not even realizing she was defending the mysterious man. Her gaze lingered a bit longer as he removed his coat, revealing a black long-sleeve shirt with a bleach stain imprinted upon the left sleeve. She only looked away when he glanced back at her after ordering a drink. Bea’s face turned a deep red.

Zoe laughed, “Oh, my god, he’s blushing!”

Bea shook her head, “Shut up. How can you even tell? He looked the other way,” she muttered anxiously, “Stop looking at him, you’re being weird.”

Abby and Audrey turned away from their conversation to inch closer to the two, “What are we looking at?” Audrey asked before taking a sip of her beer.

“The guy with the mullet at the bar,” Zoe told her, pointing at him. Bea wanted to shrink down to the size of an ant and be stepped on right then and there. The situation was beyond embarrassing. “He and Bea were ogling each other,”

Audrey and Abby turned to look at him, “I’ve never seen him around before,” Abby said as she stared at the back of his head. Bea could only imagine how the girls' eyes were burning through the poor man’s skull. She was half expecting his brains to explode under their gaze.

Audrey shook her head, “Me neither,” she agreed. The trio looked back at Bea with wide grins spread across their faces. They seemed oddly excited at the prospect of her simply making eye contact with someone of the opposite sex. Was she really that much of a loser?

“You’ve gotta go talk to him, B!” Abby cheered, the other two girls agreeing in unison.

Bea just looked between the three of them, thoughts racing her mind. He was handsome, but she wasn’t sure if she was fit to simply approach him and attempt conversation. She was more than out of practice regarding anything of that nature.

She began to stutter out an excuse, “I-I don’t wanna bother him-”

Zoe interrupted her with a soft nudge to the shoulder, “There’s not a single man – especially not a cowboy – that would mind being bothered by a pretty girl like you. You know that, baby.” She brought her beer bottle up to her lips and took a quick swig; Bea just gave her a look and silently pleaded with her. Zoe gave a short nod and an understanding smile, “But it’s up to you.”

Bea exhaled a sigh of relief as the other two silently agreed, but not before Abby gave her two cents. “But you’d look adorable with him, B. Even more adorable than you look on your own.”

Bea smiled appreciatively, and with that, the mysterious cowboy was seemingly forgotten. The group carried on with conversation, occasionally running into familiar faces and catching up with each other’s lives over drinks. It slowly became nice for Bea. She wasn’t even entirely sure why she had been nervous to be there in the first place.

However, between drinks and increasingly easier conversation, Bea couldn’t help but sneak looks at the man from before. She’d occasionally catch him gazing softly in her direction already, but when she wouldn’t, she’d admire his features from afar—or at least the ones she could see from where she was standing.

His back was toned–she could tell through his shirt that hugged his broad shoulders–and wide arms. At one point, she had caught him standing to make his way to the bathroom, and she just couldn’t pry her eyes away from his ass. She figured it was better than her own.

With such a physique, she could tell he’d been working for most of his life, and as more alcohol coursed throughout her system, she wondered what that physique was like without such a pesky shirt. She wondered what his muscular thighs were beneath that nettlesome blue denim. Most of all, she wondered how a man she’d never spoken to before could have her practically drooling for doing nothing but minding his own business.

By the bottom of her third beer, Bea was beyond relaxed. She remembered how nice seeing old friends and catching up on small-town drama could be, and she spoke more than she had in the last month. With the growth of her confidence, her consideration of talking to the blonde cowboy grew, too. How horribly could it go? He was lonely, that much was obvious, and she figured he wouldn’t mind the company.

Bea looked back at the man as she took a drag of her cigarette. There was a perfectly free barstool right next to him, and she could hear it calling her name over the booming of the dive bar’s live band. She turned to Zoe and yelled over the thumping bass, “I’m gonna go get another beer,” her voice came out raspy, her throat tired from needing to speak over all their surrounding sounds.

“Okay,” Zoe shouted back. Bea didn’t quite understand how her friend was dealing with the surrounding crowd essentially sober, but she supposed she respected it.

“Do you mind grabbing me one, too?” Audrey asked–a significant slur to her voice.

Bea nodded her head, secretly regretting announcing where she was headed. She looked over at Abby, considering asking if she wanted one too, but she could tell from her company of wasted cowboys that she was more than well off.

Bea flicked her cigarette anxiously and turned toward the bar, beginning to weave through the maze of drunkards. She was smaller than just about everyone in the room, and pushing through the crowd was a task that seemed nearly impossible to her. It was almost like she was invisible as she brushed past drunk cowboys and their equally inebriated female counterparts, people only moving if she pushed them with some force. She truly wondered how difficult it was to be spacially aware as she wedged between the last few layers of people.

Finally, Bea pushed through the thick herd of drunkards and to the line that sat in front of the bar. 

Immediately, her eyes were on him.

He had his arm propped up on the bar, his chin gently rested in his hand. His eyes were lazily focused on the hockey game that played on the boxy television hung from the ceiling behind the bar. The Boston Bruins were playing the Philadelphia Flyers, two teams that the mid-westerners who occupied the rest of the bar couldn’t have cared less about, and neither did he, it seemed. But it was something to occupy him, Bea was sure.

She continued to watch as he grabbed his beer bottle and brought it to his lips, taking a thick swig of the bubbly beverage. He huffed a sigh as he set the bottle down.

Bea took a drag of her cigarette and allowed the nicotine to cool her rising nerves. She looked back at the girls she had left, immediately locking eyes with a grinning Zoe. Bea looked away and down at her feet, a blush painting her face. Now she really couldn’t back out, unless she wanted to be chastised endlessly by her best friend for not committing to the chance she was about to take.

With a final drag of her cigarette, Bea looked into the smudged mirror behind the liquor shelves of the bar. She cursed that stupid dress she wore, telling herself how ridiculous it looked. Why couldn’t she have just worn jeans and a blouse? She’d look cuter and be comfier.

Silently, she shook the thoughts from her head as she remembered what Audrey said in the car earlier. 

Whatever, Bea thought, Confidence, B, that’s all you need.

She stood straight, adjusting her body language to display confidence, hoping it looked even somewhat natural. She looked back at where Zoe had been staring from, only to find the back of her head. No more eyes on her, good.

With her sleight confidence, Bea walked up to the barstool beside the blonde and sat, setting her forearms upon the bar. She was there. It was a step in the right direction. All she had to do now was start a conversation. Somehow.

In an attempt to stall for time, she waved down the bartender and asked for another beer, hoping it would convince the man beside her that he wasn’t the entire reason she had sat down. Though, he seemed to have not noticed her presence as he lit a cigarette and kept his focus on the hockey game in front of him.

Bea watched from the corner of her eye as he took a long drag and flicked the ash into the tray that sat to the left of him. As he did so, his eyes followed the cigarette, stopping only when they seemed to catch something on the bar. Right then, she noticed just how blue his eyes were; they were only a shade or two darker than the noon sky.

“There you are, darlin’.” The bartender smiled at Bea as he set a cold Heineken in front of her.

She looked up, her eyes wide in something akin to confusion before awkwardly smiling back. “Oh! Thanks,” she spoke. The bartender nodded and turned away, making his way to a drunkard waving him down elsewhere.

Bea’s attention slyly turned back towards the blonde beside her. His eyebrows were furrowed in what seemed to be curiosity, and Bea tried to follow where exactly he was looking. She looked at the ashtray and slowly tracked further left until her gaze met her hand.

“What’s that say?” the man asked, his voice enough to melt Bea into a puddle.

She looked at him, her head tilting. “What?” she nearly squeaked.

“The tattoo,” he pointed to the ink inscribed on top of her hand, “What’s it say?”

His voice was thick and gruff but had a deep smoothness to it that made Bea’s head spin. She looked back at her hand, almost as if she was unaware of the emblem written into her skin. “Oh,” she looked at him, her cheeks flushed a bright red. “Blondie,” she finally told him as she rolled her sleeve up just a bit to reveal the entire tattoo. The name had been inscribed in calligraphy below the print date of “9/26/1988”, a small heart attached to the tail of the ‘e’ on the calligraphy with it all encircled by the depiction of a horseshoe.

“What’s the date for?” the cowboy asked, twisting his upper body towards the woman beside him and bringing his cigarette back to his lips.

Bea sat up straight, “It’s the day he died,” she told him before stumbling to cover her vagueness, “Blondie, a horse of mine. First horse I ever broke on my own,”

The man’s eyebrows shot up, obviously expecting a different, much happier answer. Whatever that may have been. “Oh, m’sorry.” he muttered, clearing his throat and taking a swig of his beer.

“That’s alright,” Bea smiled softly, her heart thumping hard against her ribcage as she spoke with him. Even over the sound of the dive bar’s band, she was sure he could hear it too.

He took another quick drag of his cigarette before stubbing it in the glass ashtray. His hands were big and rough, obviously made from years of work. Bea’s stomach coiled slightly at the sight as her mind wandered. She thought about how they’d feel on her back, her hips, her thighs…

“I like it, though,” he told her, snapping her from her sinful thoughts. He looked up at her, “Not many folks have tattoos. It’s different,”

She was sure her face was beet red as she smiled at him, “Thank you,” she said. “Usually, people ask me if I was drunk when I decided to get it. Or if I worship Satan.”

The cowboy squinted and scoffed before saying, “For a tattoo commemorating a dead horse?”

She shrugged, “They say it’s a Pagan practice.” The cowboy just shook his head and rolled his eyes as he took a final swig of his beer. Bea spoke, “Pretty sure Pagans don’t worship Satan, either.”

“People just like hearing themselves talk,” he grumbled, placing the empty beer bottle on the bar. “Always have something to say about how you live your life. It’s dumb.”

“Agreed,” Bea nodded, reaching for her untouched beer bottle. She took a swig as the cowboy returned to watching the TV, the game at the tail end of the third period. Now she had to start more conversation. She reached into her dress’s pocket and pulled out her pack of Marlboro Reds alongside a lighter. As she plucked a cigarette from the pack, she spoke. “I don’t think I’ve seen you around here before.”

The man looked at her, “Definitely not,” he smiled softly. “I’m originally from a bit further west, little town called Durango.”

Bea nodded, her eyes lighting up. “Oh, yeah! My daddy won a big barrel racing title out that way in ‘68 at the uh…”

“Fiesta Days Rodeo?”

“Yeah! That’s it!”

The cowboy nodded, his entire body turned on the barstool towards Bea. He had a prideful smirk on his face, “That’s the first rodeo I ever rode in. Junior bull riding in ‘77 when I was 14. Fell off in three seconds,”

Bea tilted her head and smiled, “You’re a bull rider?”

“Was, for about two years. Then I started doing some of the calf roping in the rodeo. I did a whole lot better with that, nowhere near as many head injuries.” he told her, picking up his hat from the bar and placing it on his knee to dust it off. “I tried barrel racing, but I never really got the hang of it. Cutting was the most fun, though. It feels like working a herd, except you’re in a ring,”

Bea nodded, “I did lots of cutting before Blondie died. He knew how to work cattle better than any old ranch horse we had,” she told him, “I still breed and train cutters and barrel racers, competing’s just harder nowadays.”

“You sell ‘em, too?” he asked, an eyebrow quirked.

She nodded, a grin plastered across her face. “Yeah. Why? You interested?”

The man snorted and put his hat on, “You’re funny,”

Bea giggled, “Come on, any self-respecting man wants a good working horse!” she took a tender sip of her beer.

The cowboy gave her a sardonic look, “Do I look like I have any self-respect, Miss…”

“Dalton,” she answered, “Lorelei Dalton, just call me Bea.”

“Where does ‘Bea’ come from out of ‘Lorelei Dalton’?” he teased.

She rolled her eyes, only then realizing just how loose her once-tensed muscles had become. “My middle name is Bernadette if you really have to know.”

The blonde nodded before sticking out his hand for her to shake, “James Hetfield,” he said as she grabbed it and they shook.

Bea’s hand was warm in his grip, his hand almost twice the size of hers and calloused from his years of work. “What brings you out here, then, Mr. Hetfield?”

“James,” he corrected with a smirk, “And just work. I was in Wyoming working a ranch this past year, but the guy who owned the place was a shady fuck. Didn’t ever pay any of his cowpunchers quite what he owed, so I just sort of up and left.”

Bea nodded, “I’d have done the same,” she said, “Why didn’t you go back to Durango?”

He shrugged. “It’s in my past,”

She took it as an ‘I don’t wanna talk about it,’.

“Well, there’s plenty of cattle to work out this way.” she told him, “I hope you find someone who’ll pay you what they owe,”

“Yeah, me too.” James chuckled. His laugh sent Bea’s insides fluttering. It was adorable. “I dunno, I’ve got a ‘trial’ for a job, I guess. Over in Cuchara. I start tomorrow,”

Bea leaned on the bar top, “Maybe I’ll be seeing you around often, then.” she told him. His head tilted in curiosity at her words. “My family’s ranch is out in Cuchara, ‘Lone Wolf’. My daddy and my brother work the cattle.

“Just them?” he asked.

Bea nodded, “Our herd isn’t huge right now, we had a bad calving yield this past spring.” she told him, taking a swig of her beer before continuing. “What’s the name of the ranch you’re gonna be working?”

James shrugged, “I forgot,” he simply said.

Bea gave him an unimpressed look, “Really?”

“Really.” he affirmed, “I’ve got the address, though.” he began fishing through his jeans’ pockets, but before he could pull anything from them, Bea felt a tap on her shoulder. She whipped her head around.

“Hey, babe. We’ve gotta go,” Zoe told her, her hand now grabbing for the meaty part of Bea’s arm.

“Wh-” Bea began, but her eyes soon fell upon Audrey, who was attempting to hold the attention of a tall, dark-haired cowboy across the room. However, his dark eyes were narrowed and focused overtop of the woman’s head. Straight at Bea. “Oh,” was all she could muster as her stomach dropped to her feet.

“Yeah,” Zoe said before looking over at James, who now sat dumbfounded and almost upset that this random woman had interrupted their conversation. He held a small piece of paper in his hand. “Sorry.” Zoe told him sincerely, “Just look her up in the Yellow Pages, or something.”

With that, Zoe and Bea began out the door. Bea turned to wave at the blonde cowboy, finding his now-longing and sad eyes following her out the door. He waved back at her with a sigh before standing and grabbing his jacket from the back of his chair. She felt horrible. But she also needed to get out of there.

“What’s he doing here?” she asked Zoe, wide-eyed as they burst through the entrance. The bitter wind stung their cheeks.

Zoe shrugged, “He just came up to Audrey and asked if you were with us,” she unlocked her car’s door, and the two got into the vehicle. She stuck the key in the ignition, and the engine struggled to a start.

“I thought he’d left town!” Bea exclaimed as she shivered, trying to warm up as the car pushed hot air through its vents. “When is he going to fucking leave me alone?! We fucked twice. Twice! A year ago! That’s it!”

Zoe nodded, “I know. He’s a creep.”

Right then, the doors to the bar burst open, Audrey and Abigail drunkenly stumbling out with something akin to haste. Abigail was leaning against Audrey, her drunkenness reducing her to the balance of a toddler. They raced across the parking lot and burst the car doors open as soon as they reached them.

“We’ve got to go,” Audrey practically shouted as she slammed the door beside her. “Fucker tried grabbing me,”

Zoe whipped around, “What?!”

The man in question emerged from the entrance.

“Zoe, go,” Bea told her friend firmly. The car was then quickly put into gear, and they whipped out of the parking lot, leaving the old dive bar in the dust.

[dovelywind]

ꕥ| Matt Murdock || Daredevil S3E3 ‘No Good Deed’

[willowser]

gojo is the dad that hugs his kiddo close when he's holding them 🥺 supporting their butt with both arms, resting his head against theirs 🥺 pressing a kiss to their fat cheek 🥺

[bubsy-4d]

hang on i gotta put on my jacket first

[neptuniadoesstuff]

This is the most Crack head thing to come out of my mouth since I'm in the frikin WoF Fandom... But... What do the tribes in WoF tastes like... I'm just curious bcs DO EVERYONE ONE OF THEM TASTE LIKE MEAT?

Bcs apparently lizerd meat tastes kinda like chikin but I don't think every dragon that exists in WoF is like lizerd chikin-

No need to answer it, I'm just bored as hell.

[turbonicflaws]

APPARENTLY IVE JUST NEGLECTED TO POST HALF OF THE ASTRO BOY STUFF IVE BEEN DRAWING FOR THE PAST LIKE SIX MONTHS ?? OK ?? FIXING THAT NOW ENJOY A BIG POST DUMP

[fred-the-janitor]

After making sure its three occupants were still sound asleep, Fred rushes out of its room. Using it's secondary programming it located WV6 in the break room.

It opens the door to stare at its subordinate. "Did you get a promotion?!" WA02 half asks, half demands. A little bewildered considering that it hasn't been long since a new Beauru was put into place.

[@facelessbubbles]

[bubbledtee]

A Break ~ Part 1

Based off of THIS interview.

Pairing: Kirk Hammett x fem!reader, Dave Mustaine x fem!reader

Words: 3.6k

Warnings: extremely incorrect timeline, mentions of Lars being an asshole, mentions of Kirk being a shitty boyfriend, mentions of cheating, mentions of sex, mentions drugs and alcohol, smoking cigarettes, crying, Dave being a complete softie for reader, i think that's all, lmk if i missed any!

A/N: ok, the timeline on this shit is inconsistent (obvi), and this is also kind of shitty, but it was just easier to have kirk and dave be in the band at the same time. lars and james are basically just procrastinating kicking dave out, so that's why they have both kirk and dave there lol. this is going to have at least one more part, and that part will contain smut ^-^

It wasn’t your choice, coming to this party. If you could even call it that. You just wanted to spend the night with Kirk for once, to have a relaxed evening where there was nothing there to distract you from one another, no one to get between you. But, of course, that just couldn’t happen, could it? He couldn’t just spare you one night without being clung to this new band, ‘Metallica’.

You took a long drag from your cigarette, staring up at the moon and its surrounding speckles of light. The cratered rock was full as could be, the reflective light gleaming in the sky brightly. You couldn’t remember the last time the moon was so beautiful and bright. It made you wonder when the last time you really decided to observe the beauty around you.

Your mind was elsewhere as you continued to smoke, your knees tucked tightly against your chest. “Fuck, it’s cold.” you shivered, rubbing the trail of goosebumps up your arm in attempts to warm up. You really should’ve grabbed your jacket.

The sound of a zippo flicking open jerks you from your own thoughts, your neck twisting quickly to face the noise. Some part of you wished it was Kirk coming to apologize to you, to tell you that he was the dick, but you knew that wasn’t happening.

You sigh in relief when the flame of the lighter illuminates the identity of the rando behind you, his large hand cupped around the flame as he lights his cigarette.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Dave.” you exhale, turning back to face forward, “You scared the shit out of me,”

The redhead chuckles drunkenly. You could smell the cheap beer and weed on his flannel from here.

“Sorry,” he smirks before taking a drag. For a moment, the only sound that could be heard was the faint hum of She by Misfits bounding from the shitty speakers in the home behind you. Dave exhales before motioning to the seat beside you, “Mind if I sit?”

You carelessly motion back, signaling a ‘Whatever’ as you suck back the last of the smoke before stubbing it out on the ground below you, “As long as you won’t call me a selfish bitch, too.” you breathe, quoting a very, very drunk Lars after you had asked Kirk if you could simply go home.

“Never,” was all Dave said before taking a long sip from his beer and sinking down into the lawn chair beside you. His silence confused you a bit. From what you’ve known of Dave, he’s an aggressive, talkative drunk, always fighting with someone or doing something crazy. But right now he was neither, seemingly just needing a break from everyone, too.

There was a break of silence as you just sat together, enjoying the damp aroma and particularly bright light of the night individually. Over the past weeks you’d known Dave, you’d gotten on well with him. Cliff, too.

But there was something special about Dave.

Maybe it was that notorious grin of his whenever he told a funny story.

Or maybe it was the way he cared about his bandmates, how he’d do anything for them even if they wouldn’t do the same.

Or how he listened to you when you told a story, not interrupting you like James or Lars would.

How he’d listen when Kirk wouldn’t.

“You don’t deserve that,” Dave mutters suddenly, taking a short drag of his cigarette.

Your neck swivels towards him, cheeks reddening at the somewhat bold words.

“Sorry?” you ask dumbly.

Dave turns his head to look back at you, the moonlight casting perfectly against his profile. “You heard me,” he slurs slightly before turning his head away from you again, staring into the pale light above. “No real man would stand for his friends acting like that towards his girlfriend. Not if he cared about her, at least.”

A pain struck through your heart at the guitarist’s brutally honest words. Of course Kirk cared about you, at least he did before he got caught up in this whole musician thing. You bit your lip as you slowly turned to face forward again, too, your head slowly dropping to rest on your folded knees.

Dave continued, “Those guys in there, James, Cliff, Lars, they’re my brothers. Other than them, I’ve only got my mom.” he sighed, running his long fingers through his thick mane of hair, “I mean, I’d do anything for them, y’know? More than they’d probably do for me, honestly.” Dave huffed out a pained laugh before sipping his beer once more, crushing the can beneath his foot when the golden brown liquid was all gone.

“But I’d never, ever let any one of them talk to my girl like that.” Dave hissed, almost angry, “That would’ve been my breaking point.” he added, bringing his cigarette to his face and pausing his motion right before inserting the stick between his lips, murmuring, “Should’ve been Kirk’s, too.”

It felt like you were being stabbed in the chest repetitively as Dave went on. Sure, he was right, Kirk wasn’t being a good boyfriend as of late, and it really was pissing you off, but why did Dave have to be so upfront about it? What did he get out of giving you relationship advice?

You push air from your cheeks in attempts to hold back the tears that had been there all night, but it was impossible. Kirk didn’t care anymore. He was all about the band, not seeming to care how you felt any longer. 

When he was in Exodus, Kirk would’ve followed you right outside when you stormed out, begging for your forgiveness and berating whatever “friend” had called you a bitch. But it wasn’t like that anymore. Metallica changed him.

The first tear trailed down your cheek as you clenched your eyes shut, hoping – praying – that this was just some sort of cruel nightmare. That you were going to wake up beside a loving, caring Kirk once again.

But you didn’t.

You pressed your burning eyes against your denim clad knees, the tears unable to be held back any longer. A light gasp for air turned Dave’s attention towards you, his eyebrows furrowing in pure concern.

“Y/N?” he questions softly, immediately dropping his cigarette to rub a hand up and down your back in an attempt to comfort you. His voice was soft and caring; very out of character for him. “Oh, don’t cry.”

Despite Dave’s gentle plea, you broke. The wails you’d been holding back for god knows how long were finally coughed up, salty tears staining your cheeks with dark eyeliner and mascara. Your head rose as you gasped for air, hiccuping up incoherent words that Dave couldn’t even start to decipher.

Dave gave you a pitiful, guilty look. He did this to you. It wasn’t his intention to make you upset, but it happened. God, he really should just keep his fucking mouth closed sometimes.

“Come here,” Dave whispered, pulling you up from your chair and back down into his lap, wrapping his arms around you and squeezing you against him. His large frame warmed your much smaller one as you pressed your face against his broad chest, muffling your loud, breathless sobs. “I’m sorry, pretty.” he murmured against your ear, the pet name just slipping out on instinct before he pressed his lips against the top of your head. He smoothed a hand up and down your back, holding you tightly against himself. “It’s gonna be okay,”

Dave frowned at just how cold and sad you felt against him. He just wanted to make everything perfect for you, to make everything that’s bad in your life go away. He wanted to hold you like this forever, and to keep you safe and happy for as long as he could, safer and happier than Kirk ever could.

Ever since Lars and James hired Kirk, Dave was starting to get treated worse as the days went on. All of their attention was turned to this guitarist who, in Dave’s mind, really did not need to be there. They had a lead guitarist and rhythm guitarist and were fine as a four-piece. What did they need this random dude for all of a sudden? It wasn’t like he was filling an empty position, either.

However, when he realized that you came along with Kirk, things seemed to be just a bit better. You were smart, you were funny, extremely artistic, and absolutely beautiful. Whenever he could, he was sneaking a glance at you when you weren’t looking. Maybe from across the room during one of these stupid parties when someone made you giggle, or maybe during the band’s practice when you were sat in your own chair in the corner, drawing in that curious notebook of yours that no one but you was allowed to see. Not even Kirk.

So, when he began to notice how Kirk was treating you as the month went past, his resentment against him only grew. Most of the time, he’d stay out of it, just boring holes into the back of Kirk’s head after he’s, once again, sent you storming away for something he or one of the other guys have said. But on occasion, he’d follow you, ready to comfort you. Just like he had tonight.

Dave could feel your warm tears soaking through his shirt, and if it’d been anyone else, he probably would have shoved them off of himself in fears of ruining the shirt. But for you, he didn’t care. All he wanted was you being comfortable, and if that meant ruining his Aerosmith shirt, so be it.

Tears stream down your face when you pull away slightly, gasping to get words out, “It’s just- He wasn’t like this when he was in Exodus! And I don’t know if I did something, or- or-”

Dave shushed your teary rambles and shook his head, “You didn’t do anything, Y/N. It’s not your fault,” he assured you, resting his chin atop your head, “Kirk’s just an idiot,”

The sound of your sobs died down after that, your muscles relaxing as you let your body fully press against Dave’s. He was so warm, and so big, too. The way his long arms engulfed you against his chest made you feel so small, like his body could swallow yours whole and keep you warm inside and out. Like he could warm that empty cavity you felt within your chest right then.

After a moment, you noticed the volume of the music coming from inside dying down a bit, only faint notes breaking through the air occasionally. You wondered what time it was, and whether Kirk and the rest of the boys had decided to crash for the night, or if they were still up drinking whatever shitty liquor they had left.

“I dunno what I’m gonna do,” you sigh, subconsciously snuggling into Dave, just trying your hardest to warm up as you thought.

Obviously, you weren’t happy in your relationship with Kirk, but that could be fixed, right? Maybe, if you told him how you were feeling, he would take a step back and realize that he wasn’t being the boyfriend he should be, and that he should take you more into consideration. Or maybe, he just wouldn’t care. Maybe, he wouldn’t realize your worth at all and would just break up with you. Maybe, he just didn’t care anymore.

Your thoughts felt like punches as they banged around inside your head, questioning your entire relationship. You needed a break, that you knew.

You bit your lip, holding back more tears that threatened to pour from your eyes. “I don’t have a car, I don’t have much money, I don’t have anywhere to stay-”

“Sure you do,” Dave drunkenly chimed, his lips tugged into a smirk, “I have a couch,”

You sniffle and look up at him, “Yeah, but I really don’t wanna be a bother.”

“Pfft-” the redhead sputters, shaking his head dismissively, “The last thing you’d be is a bother, Y/N. I’m not a very busy guy.” He assures, “Plus, it’d be kind of nice to have someone other than the dog to talk to. She's a good listener, but she's shit at giving advice.”

You giggle and pull away from Dave, sitting yourself up on his knees. You peak over your shoulder at him, a cheeky grin plastered across your tear-stained face, “So that’s why you make such shitty decisions!”

Dave pushes your shoulder lightly with a scoff, “Says you,” he rebuts, watching intently as you slowly rise to your feet. The jeans you wore showed your shape off perfectly, hugging you in all the right places, and Dave cursed himself for letting his eyes linger for as long as they did.

“Whatever,” you laugh as you run your fingers through your hair, attempting to look at least halfway decent before having to face Kirk for the last time tonight. All you had to do was go into that god forsaken living room, maybe give Kirk a short explanation or just leave a simple note as to where you were going, grab your jacket, and then leave with Dave. It was as simple as that.

“Here, turn around.” Dave instructed, though before you had a chance to react, he was gently pulling you around by your elbow. “Let me get some of this shit off your face,” he mumbled as he took your cheek into his hand, cocking your head up towards him.

God, he’s tall. You thought to yourself, a smile playing at your lips as he furrowed his brows and attempted to rub the stains off with the pad of his thumb. After a bit of struggle, the redhead ran his thumb along his tongue before bringing it back up to your face, continuing to rub the black blotches from your cheeks. The pungent scent of the beer and marijuana ridden saliva hardly bothered you, your mind too busy secretly swooning over the six-foot redhead before you.

“There,” he smiled proudly, giving your cheeks one final rub with the sleeve of his flannel. You gazed up at him for a moment longer than you would have liked, your eyes flickering from his beautiful greenish-brown eyes to his plump lips as your mind wandered into uncharted territory.

How could someone be such a soft, caring person one moment, and then a gruff brute the next? It almost felt like an honor, being exposed to such a sweet, soft side of Dave like this. Especially when he was drunk. Of course, he wasn’t as drunk as usual, but still, it was such a difference that you were sure barely anyone ever got to see.

You took one last glance at his pretty mouth before finally looking away, your head turned to the side. You knew you shouldn’t feel like this about him, especially with what you were going through right then, but you just could never help yourself. It’d been that way the entire month and a half you’d known him, too.

If you watched them practice, your eyes were on Dave the entire time, watching those long, thick fingers of his work up and down his guitar. Maybe Kirk played better, but Dave always looked better. At first, you felt bad about it. Bad about how you’d “accidentally” fantasize about Dave instead of Kirk in your daydreams. Bad about how you couldn’t help but wonder what that light happy trail of his led to whenever he wore one of those cropped shirts. Bad about how you started to have to think about Dave during sex with Kirk, the feeling of it otherwise loveless and rough.

But you realized that Kirk deserved it.

Because maybe, just maybe, if he knew about those thoughts of yours, he’d realize the mistakes he made. Maybe he’d be reminded of what you were worth.

“Thanks,” you mumble, giving Dave a quick, flustered smile before turning around and slowly starting to head into the house, Dave following shortly behind you. He moves up beside you, placing a warm hand on the small of your back. You barely notice the vague touch, his essence very gentle and light against your own as you walk towards the sliding glass door of the kitchen. His presence made you feel much more comfortable walking back into the house. You knew that if any of the guys sent you some mumbly insult, Dave was there to defend you, with words or a fist.

You pull the door’s handle and step through the opening, the strong scent of weed immediately lingering to your nostrils as your body is finally engulfed in warm air. The sound of Lars’s obnoxious Danish accent hit your ears as well, immediately churning a feeling of nausea in your stomach.

Dave must’ve noticed your hesitation as he bent down and mumbled in your ear, not wanting to alert the hostile Dane with his voice, “It’ll be okay, he’s all bark, no bite. You know that,”

You blushed as you looked back at the redhead, “Y-Yeah, I know.” you stutter before gingerly stepping towards the living room, preparing yourself for a messy confrontation.

As you step into the living room, Lars’s drunken rant dies down, all eyes slowly turning to you when you make your way over to the couch. Everyone watched quietly as you picked up your coat and pulled it on before looking up at a very stoned Kirk, “Are you spending the night here?” you ask, very mild mannered while you hook the zipper on the leather coat.

Kirk looks over at Lars for approval, gaining a quick nod. He looks back at you, his gaze suspicious, “Yeah, we can stay. Why?” he asks dumbly, watching you zip your jacket closed.

You stick your hands in your pockets and look up, poking your tongue against your cheek as you quickly question your decisions one last time. You need a break. No exceptions.

“You can stay, Kirk. I’m staying at Dave’s place tonight-”

“What?!” Kirk practically shouts, making everyone else in the room jump before glancing between you and Dave, all thinking the same thing. All thinking that you were a cheating whore.

“I said, I’m staying at Dave’s place tonight. I’ll call you in the morning, and we can figure shit out, but right now, I just need a break.” you sounded exhausted, and you felt it too. You were so ready to take a shower and put on fresh, clean clothes that didn’t smell like sweat and weed, and just sleep for hours.

Kirk gave you an exasperated look before you turned tail and walked up right beside Dave, “Baby, let’s talk about this-”

“No, Kirk. We can talk in the morning when you’re sober,” your voice was stern as you began to walk out, Dave trailing closely behind you almost protectively, as if someone was going to lunge at you at any given moment. Which, honestly, felt possible with the way Lars glared at you, his eyes chanting every demeaning name in the book. But he knew better than to verbalize any of it, being practically half the size of Dave.

Kirk followed after you, pleading helplessly for you to turn back and give him yet another chance, but somehow, you stood your ground. You had no clue how, but you did. Maybe it was the fact you had someone on your side, someone right there to defend you and put that wall up between you and everyone else.

As you stepped through the front door, you took one last glance back at Kirk. He looked sad, but most of all angry. You were surprised he hadn’t attempted to attack Dave in an attempt to get your attention, but he must’ve been wise enough to know that the redhead was too big and strong  for him to take on. The look you shared with him only lasted a moment, though, as Dave slammed the door shut in Kirk’s face, the sound echoing throughout the midnight air.

You were both silent for a bit as you followed Dave along the sidewalk, beginning the trek to his apartment. Seemingly thousands of emotions ran through your entire body, some good, some bad. It felt as though you had a mixture of excitement and dread pulling your stomach in all different directions while adrenaline coursed through your veins, making your legs feel like a ball of rubber bands.

You sigh and look up at Dave, “How far is the walk?” you ask softly, subconsciously drifting closer to his side as you walk.

“Like ten minutes,” he answers, “Why?”

You shrug, looking back down at the sidewalk as you mumble, “‘Cause I’m cold,”

Dave thinks for a moment, looking down at you in contemplation before quickly hooking an arm around your waist and pulling you against him. The feeling of his much larger body pushed flush against your own makes you blush, heating you from the inside out as your belly flutters nervously.

He smiles down at your crimson cheeks, “Is that better?”

You nod slowly, not quite sure how to feel about the affection. In your head, it didn’t feel right. It didn’t feel right to be so up close and personal with your possibly-ex-boyfriend’s bandmate, practically cuddling like you were a couple.

But to your body, it felt perfect.

You spoke up after a moment, ignoring your internal battle, “Way better,”

[5u9ar]

Bubbles Bday

You'd definitely be wearing a rush shirt you'd cut to have a deep v-neck, exposing your cleavage. One of my bubbles' favorite skirts of yours is a cute pleated skirt, vith I slit down the side, showing off your thighs.

He'd be hanging out with the boys when you'd show up with a gift bag full of cat treats, candy and cute little kitty decorations for his shed. Sneaking up behind him and hugging him while he was sitting on the couch, your breasts pressing up against his neck.

He'd be flustered my the sudden affection, your perfume wafting over him driving him made.

You whispered into his some dirty sweet nothings, rubbing his shoulders. He'd be a little embarrassed about the pda but deep down he loves it. Knowing what would come later making him shift excitedly in his seat.

"After you're done with the boys, meet me at your place. I've got a gift I think you'll love baby."

You'd smile and present his gifts, leaving before he could open them but not before giving him a quick kiss. Upon reaching the bottom of the bag he noticed something that made his member twitch. Your panties were folded at the bottom with a love note folded around it. He knew exactly what his gift was.

After finishing up with the boys he made a bee line straight to his shed, butterflies were swirling in his stomach. Sure you and him had been together a long time, but everything you'd have sex he'd already be a little anxious.

He was big, bigger than the average man. You'd joke with him that with his cock, he be an amazing pornstar.

He carefully opened the not wanted to share his gift with anyone. He grabbed a sock and placed it on the outside of the shed door, not wanting any interruptions with his love.

You were sitting on the bottom bunk of his bed, knees pressed together to hide your exposed cunt under your skirt.

You smile and outstretched your arms, calling him over.

"Come 'ere birthday boy, come get your present."

He felt his member twitch excitedly, and a chill crept up his spine. He sheepishly walked over and cupped your face, gently kissing you while you played with his blond hair

He looked down and smirked , seeing his favorite band on his favorite woman. He started kissing your neck and playing with the hem of your shirt.

"Can I take it off baby?"

You nodded enthusiastically, and whispered in his ear.

"Absolutely love, you can do anything you want to me tonight, you don't even need to ask~"

With that he took off your shirt gently tossing it to the side. He continued kissing your neck while his hands trailed from your hair, to you neck and eventually to you breasts.

You knew he'd want to play with your chest so you choose not to wear a bra. His hand loving groped your breast, teasing you nipples ever so much.

You moaned out, feeling yourself getting wet from his touch. Leaning back on the bed and allowing bubbles to climb on top of you.

Bubbles started pulling off his shirt eyeing you up and down desperately. You hooked you lags around his hips, giving him a glimpse of your wet cunt under your skirt.

Bubbles leaned down to kiss you, one hand undoing his jeans and pulling them bown along with his boxers, the other being used for leverage.

You reached your hand down and started stroking his cock, thinking about how good he'd make you feel.

Sure it was his birthday, but you were going to get a gift too, one way or another.

He started rubbing your cunt, avoid your clit much to your annoyment. He smirked at you whilst teasing you, his fingers started you gently graze your clit.

He went to pull away to get a condom but you stopped him by tightening your legs around him.

"No baby, I want all of you, every last drop~"

He looked down at you, seeing the love of his life laid out for him. He wanted you badly, and you knew this.

Bubbles was always quiet during sex, never known what to say without sounding awkward. He didn't have the gall of Ricky or Julian when it came to women, but that was fine with you. You loved his timid gentle nature, and how he could be rough and caring at the same time in bed.

Bubbles lined himself up at you entrance, teasing you by rubbing his tip from your hole to your clit.

You whined out and looked at him with pleading eyes. With that looked he slowly entered you, sighing a breath of relief.

He stared with a slow pace, not fully inside you, you reached down to stimulate the base of his cock.

He moaned sofly into your neck, feeling his hot heavy breath on your ear.

"Ohh baby, hhah.

You felt him deepen his thrusts, your pussy wrapped tightly around his large length. You felt him rub against your g-spot with every hard thrust into you.

"Aah bubs babe please, harder-"

You couldn't finish your sentence as soon as heard you say hard, he started slamming into you.

You grabbed his shoulders tightly, scratching him as you did. You felt a tight warm feeling building in your stomach.

His eyes were locked on yours, watching you roll them back in ecstasy as he hit your sweet spot.

Bubbles was getting close, and so were you, his hips slamming into yours bringing you both ever closer. You help him lean down and wrap and arm up under your shoulder and his hand grasping the back of your neck.

"Aghh baby, I'm so close y/n~"

You started rutting your hips up against his, stimulating your clit against him.

Bubbs started getting sloppy with his thrusts, moaning more intensly as his cock twitched inside you. Letting you know he was close.

You felt the warm tightness build more and more before you knew it, you came hard on him. Warm waves of ecstasy washing over you as you moaned out.

"Aaah! Oh God bubs yess!"

He slammed onec more inside of you, as me groaned you felt a warm feeling fill you up.

"Hnnrg, y/n..."

You both laid there in bliss as you two came down, he looked up at you.

You kissed him as he pulled out, whispering to him.

"Happy Birthday Bubbs, I love you."

He looked at you with loving, puppy dog eyes.

"I love you too y/n, so much."

@luigisparanotnormalactivity

[delucadarling]

Not me wistfully remembering about that one time you mentioned a jock/nerd highschool au with simon/phil

I hold it very close and dear to my chest to this DAY. The main thing that's held me back is the realization that I have absolutely zero idea of how the education suste, works in England, despite @eldritchnonsense explaining it to me multiple times at this point u-u

Maybe one day I'll just go full audacity and throw them all into the American school system instead.

[theunavenged]

Mommy Dearest

As the president of the Catherine Todd Protection Squad, and Founder of the AK!Jason Needs All of the Hugs organization, I am hereby giving Cathy a small bit of redemption from how she was portrayed in Arkham Knight: Genesis, therefore allowing Jason to get lots and lots of hugs and kisses as a kid ❤️ (Abusive Willis gets no redemption. Sorry bud.)

Also on AO3 (please comment & kudos if you enjoy!)

cw: domestic violence, child neglect, drug use/addiction, swearing

It was crying again. More like shrieking. Cathy rolled over in bed and wrapped a pillow around her head. She could fucking geld Willis for this. How hard was it to just pull his dick out and come on her back for a couple of weeks until she could get back on the pill? Too hard for her imbecile husband, apparently. 

As soon as she realized she was pregnant she wanted to get rid of it but Willis wouldn’t let her. That was when he hatched his idiotic scheme to sell a fucking newborn to a bunch of mobsters to pay off their drug debts. Dumbass. Now they were stuck with this 12 pound nightmare that never, ever shut the fuck up.

Willis kicked her in the side, so hard that she almost tumbled off the bed. He grabbed the pillow off of her head, yanking it out of her hands. “If you don’t shut that goddamn baby up then I will,” he growled before slamming the pillow back down in her face and rolling back over in bed.

He always threatened this. Last time she told him to go for it and he’d backhanded her so hard he knocked her to the floor. “Do I look like a fucking nanny? Deal with it!” She still had that bruise on her cheek.

She sat up on the side of the bed and rubbed her sunken bloodshot eyes, trying to find the willpower to stand up. It was December in Gotham and their gas was shut off because they’d smoked up the last payment (and the payment before that, and the payment before that, etcetera, etcetera…) Now they were making do with a couple of space heaters, but she was still freezing her ass off. The absolute last thing she wanted to do right now was crawl out of the warmth of her blankets to go beg a damn baby to stop crying.

She fantasized once again about taking a pillow and smothering it. But as much as she despised the thing she’d never actually do it. She was a good Catholic girl, and she didn’t want to burn in hell for murdering a baby. What does it want from me?? It wasn’t like she knew anything about raising a kid. She was only 19, practically a kid herself. None of her girlfriends who she could’ve turned to for advice even talked to her anymore—they didn’t want to associate with a junkie. Her sister had a brood, but she was on the other side of the country, wrapped up in some evangelical cult her nutjob husband sucked her into, and Cathy would rather suffer with her screaming kid than hear one more time about how she needed to embrace Jesus to be healed of her sinful addictions. She wished she had her mother to help her, but her parents cut her off when she dropped out of high school to run off with the dreamy Willis Todd, who was a decade older than she was, who’d failed out of high school and was too stupid to pass his GED. Worst mistake of my life, and she’d made a lot of them. She also didn’t have the luxury of delivering the baby in an air-conditioned hospital with a nice nurse to send her home with how-to instructions. Nope. She had the thing on a hot roof on a sweltering mid-August night, with Willis telling her to "push," while all she wanted to do was push him and his brat off the building. 

It was somehow shrieking even louder now. How the hell did it have this much energy? She could barely afford to feed herself, much less a kid. And as if everything else she had to deal with wasn’t enough, the damn thing wouldn’t breastfeed. Maybe it could tell that milk was poisoned. She hadn’t changed her lifestyle when she got knocked up or after it was born—why should I when I didn’t want the thing in the first place? Her drawn face softened, smoothing away her angry scowl. For some reason the thought of the baby going hungry made her sad all of a sudden, and for a moment she actually felt sorry for it. The kid didn’t ask to be born. And it certainly didn’t ask to be born to two dirt-poor fuckups. When she stopped by the kitchen to grab her cigarettes and an ashtray she’d make it a bottle. Maybe that would make it happy.

With a sigh, she finally pushed herself off the bed and stood up. She didn’t want to have to deal with Willis if he woke up again—she already had one whining kid to take care of right now. She wandered like a stoned zombie into their tiny kitchen. Their elderly neighbor had shown her how to swaddle the thing—she said it was like being back in the womb or something—but she’d been tweaked out of her mind then and now she couldn’t figure out what the lady had done. Goddamn kid. She’d told Willis over and over that they could dump it at a fire station and be rid of it once and for all, but the idiot was still convinced he could sell it, and there was no talking him out of something when he made his mind up. She’d thought about crawling back home to her parents and begging for a second chance, but she didn’t think she could give up dope for that. And besides, Willis would track her down and beg her to come back to him, and she’d do it. She hated herself for that, but that was how it was. She wasn’t gonna pretend it would be any different than all the other times he’d dragged her back to this shithole apartment.

She lit up a cigarette while she prepared the formula for the bottle. She’d thought all babies had blonde hair, but this one had a head full of black hair, just like her pig of a husband. And its eyes were baby blue now, but she just knew they’d eventually fade to that empty, soulless blue shade of his. You know, the least it could do after I carried it for 9 miserable months was actually look like me. But all she saw when she looked down at it was Willis. A carbon copy of the man. And it would probably grow up to be just like Willis, with his temper and his drugs and his gambling and his whores—another dumbass deadbeat in this godforsaken city. This poor kid was fucked every which way. He’d have no more hope of escaping Gotham’s gravity than she ever had.

She screwed the nipple back onto the bottle, slid the lit cigarette between her lips, and wandered over to the crib and her wailing baby. But… it wasn’t wailing. It had stopped when she entered the living room. Weird. Did the thing drop dead on her or something? That was all she needed right now. A dead baby. She sat the ashtray down with her cigarette, switched on a lamp, and leaned over the crib. 

The chubby little thing was on his back with his stubby arms and legs in the air like a turtle on its shell, and he was smiling up at her, with two huge robin’s egg blue eyes, and although he’d dragged her out of bed at 4 in the morning, she couldn’t help but smile back.

“Aww,” she said gently. “I’ve never seen you smile before.”

She reached in and touched him on his tiny hand and he laughed, and that little laugh was the cutest thing she’d heard or seen in years. She giggled back at him then picked him up and held him against her heart, cradling his head against her shoulder. “Did you just want to be held? Is that it?”

He burbled at her in response, and something cracked inside of her. She suddenly felt like the worst piece of shit human being to ever walk the planet. This was her son, her baby boy. Hers. And for four goddamn months of his short life she had treated him like an unwanted piece of trash. Yet, here he was smiling at her, reaching for her like he knew she was his mommy, knew that she was supposed to protect him and love him unconditionally. He didn’t give a shit that she was a high school dropout, or that she was married to a loser, or that she was a 19 year old jibhead who looked like she was 40, or even that she’d all but neglected him for his entire life—he still wanted her, when the same couldn’t be said of her girlfriends, or her husband, or even her own family. 

The poor thing didn’t even have clothes on, just a diaper. He was probably freezing to death in here. She tugged a ratty blanket from the back of the couch and wrapped herself and her son in it. Tears suddenly welled up in her eyes and she hugged the tiny body against her chest like a teddy bear. “I’m sorry,” she cried as tears rolled down her sunken cheeks, cheeks that were spotted with angry red sores. She felt like a little girl again, and she desperately wanted her own mother to take her in her arms and tell her everything was going to be alright. She wanted her dad to take her away from this hell, to protect her from Willis’ rage. But that was a different life, a life she chose to walk away from so she could play house with a wannabe gangster. Now it was time for her to grow up and become the parent, the protector, the mama bear. She rubbed away the tears from her dark-ringed eyes with the back of her hand.

Her little Jaybird had drifted off to sleep in her arms, and she could feel the gentle rise and fall of his chest, and the soft yet steady beating of his tiny heart. Her own heart felt warm in her chest, warm enough to chase the frigid chill away. She lay her cheek against his soft head. He was such a fragile, helpless little thing, and he would need his mommy to protect him from everything this godforsaken city would throw at him. 

“Mommy’s gonna take care of you now, little one,” she whispered as she rocked him gently. “I won’t let anything bad happen to you.”

And she meant it. It was a promise, an oath. One she hoped she had the strength to keep. For a moment she forgot who she was, who she was married to, where she was forced to live, or who she had become. Right then all that mattered to her was the little life nestled against her breast. Right then she swore that even if she couldn’t escape Gotham’s gravity, she’d do whatever it took to help her baby boy crawl out from beneath its weight.

She gave his black hair a tender kiss, and soon both mother and son were sound asleep.

[wander-over-the-words]

In this house, we stan Sinclair respecting that Delta doesn’t want to be seen without his helmet

[neptuniadoesstuff]

Introduction Thing Ig... So.. Welcome to the Basement?

(Yeh this is a remake of my introduction post, but we don't talk about that)

So yeh, welcome to this.. place... This is where I store all of my art & whatever I can think of. So, you will expect:

Art (Usually Fandom-based or OC based)

Art WiPs (That of ATs, DTs, & Character Refs)

Meems (Except I'm not funny so don't expect many)

& Stoopid Garbage like my rambles & crud.

(Although reminder that my art can & will be 13+ as it will contain things like g0r3, Cannibalism, & even death, I'm just uncomfy with anyone under 13 actually interacting with me due to my past experience back on Screb... But if you are kind enough maybe I'll let you talk to me, I'm pretty friendly but I do have some problems irl so keep in mind..)

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My Bio (Full):

|| Name: Bubs | Aliases: N (If you know me irl), Neptunia | Gender: Female, She/Her | Age: 15 (I'm a minor, so leave me alone if yur an 18+ only acc) | Height: Blob-Sized, May be a bit chonky lol | Pride: AroAce | Other: Big fan of MO: Astray & an avid enjoyer of Blobs ||

Birthday: December 26.

Zodiac: Capricorn. (I don't take zodiacs seriously though tbh, I just think they're a bit neat to say.)

IQ Level: Moron.

If you know who I am, I'm BuggoBlobs from Scratch (Sadly due to the whole banning fiasco bcs of someone mass reporting me for calling them out on their behavior, I decided to quit yesterday..)

So yeh erm... that's why I'm here....? (Well not rlly, I have known about Tumblr for a long time, except I only made an acc this year due to a frend of mine (Ashe) making an acc on here, so I thought "Let's do the same thing" & here we are)

(Funfact: I'm quite anti-social irl & only have like... 2 irl frends but I only talk to one-)

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My Mascots/Sonas ig-:

Neppy ◆/♠︎/♣︎ (Main Mascot) (You will see her... A LOT, so be ready) (Her Ref & TH Page)

Crystal/Bubs (Design coming soon) ◆ (This is my side sona btw, & ys, they're the same person)

JJ Sam Green ♣︎/♠︎ (Mascot) (His Ref & TH Page) (TW: Can contain sensitive info) (You can also see his full ref here)

Jayden/Greeny ♥︎/♣︎ (Mascot) (His Ref & TH Page)

(Symbol Meanings: ♥︎ = Comfort. ♣︎ = Favorite. ◆ = Sona. ♠︎ = Just think they're neat lookin.)

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Content warnings!

G0r3/Bl00d

Cannibalism

Death

Sometimes horrifying imagery

Semi-graphic descs of charcters.

OC with Scars

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My Socials ig:

Scratch (I don't use it anymore unfortunately, but Ill prob come back to it in December or January, for now... This is just an archive of what I did..), Tumblr (Your Here lol), ToyHouse (Where all of my OCs whom I created/put on there exist)

(I had another acc or 2 on screb but again, I'm not coming back to Screb till December or January)

Or you can use my Carrd here. I don't mind tbh. (+ Having a Carrd is much easier to link than all of my Socials.)

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Fandoms (I'm in):

MO: Astray (Fave Game) –/O

Hollow Knight –/X

WoF –/X

Pokemon –/X

T.O.E +/O

The Boiled One Phenomenon +/O

(Activity Meanings: – = Not active rn. + = Active rn. O = Fixated/Currently in. X = Not interested anymore but still make content about on occasion.)

(Reminder: Just bcs I sometimes make content about smtn I'm not a part of doesn't mean I'm actually a part of that thing's Fandom, like example, some of my OCs in Fandoms I used to be in/aren't apart of.)

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Some of my original trash (In no actual order bcs I'M NOT NEAT & TIDY!):

Mortal's Curse/Terminal Archina

Egolandia

Project Cata (Will remake in the future)

RoTG (Realm of the Gods)

PoL (Planet of Luhzeruh) (Same Universe as MC)

BloopTopia/LoA (Land of Ackezelle) (Aka Worldof Eeross)

Silver Valley

Soul Seekers

Noirvillah? (A part of a universe owned by my frend Ashe)

KR1T4.EXE

Angels of Earth (Will Remaster soon)

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My TOS (You will see it a lot in my art-based posts)

Bubs' TOS: Plz don't repost/steal, trace, or recolor my art WITHOUT MY PERMISSION! If you do, I'll take yur femur and pelvis.. SO, DON'T THINK ABOUT IT! (The PNS on my blog's pinned post clearly means "Please No Steal" plz follow that rule.) If you do post my art on anything like yur blog or somewhere else (With my permission) PLEASE CREDIT ME!

So yeh, if you my any see a PNS in my drawings, that means it says, "Plz No Steal". DO NOT SEAL MY ART!

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DNI If you do any of these:

Taking my art w/o permission (This includes Tracing, copying, recoloring, or just straight up saying it's your art. Bcs I take lots of time making art & you taking my art w/o permission hurts me) (It will not only matter if it was made for you & only you but plz frikin credit me if you post it)

Being weird to me or my characters/designs. (Just... don't... I'm AroAce (+ a Minor) & that makes me uncomfortable tbh... Look even if I do make a character with a certain body type/looks that's kinda "sus", does not allow you to make weird comments about them at all)

The average hate comments, harassment, bullying, & spamming/threats thing. We all know those 4, right? Just be a frikin decent person for crying out loud. (You can dislike me & my art all you want, idc tbh. Just don't go harassing me on multiple levels to the point IT WILL MAKE ME HAVE A MENTAL BREAKDOWN!) (Also, these 4 count for my frends here. Again, be a decent person. I'm watching you..) (Also, this rule includes nor respecting me, just plz respect everyone with kindness... Thanks.)

Pestering/threatening me to draw you smtn. (I work hard on my drawings + I have a life outside of here, so don't expect me to draw you smtn since I only draw for my frends & myself. If you really want art from me, pay in art, idc how bad the art is, art is art & I have no biases when it comes to it as everyone has their own style.)

LGBTQ-Phobes/Menaces to certain groups of ppl who did nothing wrong but exist. (This is a LGBTQ+ Safe place)

Creeps, Weirdos, & ppl who ship problematic ships. (Like don't be any of those plz... Especially the weirdos who like children or animals WAY TOO MUCH.)

Breaking any of these DNI Rules can get you blocked BY ME! So be careful...

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My Mutuals/Friends:

@stridesthroughashes (Ashe/Oregon), @mor-meowcat (Abi), @viellohi (Vie), @somepersonyouknow (Mia), @spiasshdown (Splesh).

(4 of them are literally from Screb & only one I know IRL- It's a whole bag of worms lol-)

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So yeh... Thats its rlly for this post... Hope you enjoyed yur stay, & remember, always stay a goober! Even in the toughest times.

(Art is by me btw, Plz don't take. :( )

[themanwiththeplan05]

I'm not very good at writing first sentences.

Here are some sketches (mostly Homestar Runner characters) from like, two years ago. I've got more, but I don't feel like sharing them right now.

Anyway, Rock On! \__/,

[vivanightcity]

Name: Adiel Miller

Age: 27

Gender: None, they barely align with ‘human’ fuck having a gender. 

Pronouns: Any and all, with a personal love for ‘it/its’, a sort of reclamation of the dehumanizing language it was raised with. (Practically, you can mix and match, or just pick one and use it, it’s all good)

Lifepath: Streetkid 

Occupation: Doll at a dollhouse that works with a number of corpo hotels and short term rental style hotels in Downtown. Can be found in a number of BDs still knocking about though. 

Cyberware: Doll chip, prototype long term behavioral chip, scratchers and big knucks (reinforced nails and knuckles that are concealable and look like standard human parts) 

Sexuality: People hot. That’s about it. 

Born and raised in NYC. Their parents worked themselves to the bone to get by and take care of him, but it was always a struggle. Maybe the city wasn’t as bad as Night City is now, but it was still a far cry from safe or easy. When it was around 15, and already getting into trouble and running around acting like he had a damn clue, Arasaka (subject to change what corp, I just thought it tied in with their vibe) started contacting parents of minors with records. Offering them an opportunity. A bright future and a new start for their son, get them out of trouble and away from bad influences before things get worse. All it took was signing away its bodily autonomy and they got a good payout and one less mouth to feed. 

They were testing out some more long term behavioral chips targeted at wealthy families, a hopefully safer and more useful version of what was already in use in juvenile correction facilities. A fully customizable range, as much or as little control as wanted across a host of 'problem' behaviors. Even focused on pushing manners and etiquette. It could dissuade kids from indulging, make them obey their parents without question, or just give them a ‘helping hand’ in sitting still and focusing on school. A replacement for conversion therapy, fat camps and drugs, all in one easy package that could be installed when your kid went in for routine work. They never needed to know! But of course that sort of work needed thorough testing before going to market with people who could afford it, and having empirical proof of its efficacy was always good for marketing. 'This wonderful neuralware could make even the worst kids act like a child you'd be happy to have next to you at for press conferences and family dinners'.

A controlled environment, classes to show the improvement rate of those with the chip and those without. Little corrections to strength of influence, fine tuning and fixing it up as they went. So what if some other kids never came back from the surgery room? Price of progress. They’d do big demonstrations pretty frequently, every few months, showing off test scores, video comparisons of posture, attitude, vocabulary use, antisocial behaviors etc. etc. Then the suits visiting would get a chance to interact. To test the parameters themselves, screaming abuse or even pushing whatever sorry sack was chosen for the demo around, proving that these kids - most of which, like Adiel, had some history of violence - would never argue back to those they were told to obey. 

Few short years later, Adiel was around 18, everything seemed golden. Working as intended. Even kids they took the chips out of, or turned them off in the case of some earlier models which couldn’t be safely removed, didn’t seem to be suffering the same level of addiction and withdrawal as seen in traditional behavioral chips on the market. There wasn’t NONE, but it was a manageable amount comparatively. At that point, they turfed everyone out, loosed unto a world they’d been isolated from for a few years, and in the case of a fair number of them, stuck with various degrees of control still implanted in them. ‘A reward for their help’. Saying it would help them stay on the straight and narrow, when really, in the world around them, it just set them up to be manipulated and controlled.

They put protections on the hardware, and the software was heavily encoded. No one Adiel has gone to for help has been able to safely remove it, and the rumor was that someone who tried triggered some sort of anti piracy/corpo espionage failsafes and them and the ripperdoc ended up mulch. Even after it entered the market during Arasaka’s big push in the early 2070s to get back in with the NUSA and free states money, it took money to access the kind of docs who had it on the shelves, and even when he scraped together enough it turned out what they had going was different enough from the market release that it was still a risk. 

So it’s still there. Nearly ten years and a cross country relocation later. Despite everything it went through because of Arasaka, they are the reason he moved to NC. When the city became the international hub it was, and Arasaka’s new north american headquarters, Adiel figured it was their best chance. Get back on their radar, get a foot in that door, and get the damned thing removed or turned off so they could get back to some semblance of a normal life where they doesn’t have to avoid everyone in white coats, expensive suits, or decked out in arasaka combat armor. Eventually, Addy was able to get hired. Went in for a physical and for them to check its doll chip and make sure he didn’t have any sort of spyware installed, made the mistake of telling the doc checking it over what was up, and got sent away with the promise they’ll look into it… Only he woke up the next day to a termination message. No more arasaka job, no more answers, no more way in. 

And that leads us to here. Burnt out from working non stop to get to NC and then get in with Arasaka, only for it to fall apart. Found working as a doll and sticking to hobbies far away from armed guards, docs and corpos, was the best way to control when he was near people who could fuck with him. Then the fancy suits were already paying for their time, and they didn’t have to remember doing what they said. 

One of the only good things that came out of his time with Arasaka was the opening of doors and access to education and the time to explore. Where it grew up there weren’t any stars visible. Even outside of the city the most you could see were satellites that were near enough to shine through light pollution. Getting to see stars, not only as they used to be, but through flicks and even BDs from orbit. To feel so small was freeing. Getting there is something it longs to do. 

Any sort of hobby or task that can be repeated methodically, over and over, to practice and perfect, is the kind of thing Adiel leans into. Repetition, focusing so completely onto the task over and over, helps to calm it down, to think things through. Worryingly, he’s not sure if this was always the case, or if it’s yet another side effect. One that can have it so completely wrapped up in a drill that they don't stop to rest or eat or anything until made to. Shifting that focus sucks, and getting pulled out of it can be jarring and stressful. 

A side effect of the behavioral chip is a sort of mirroring. His posture, inflection, language use, it seems to shift and alter depending on who it’s talking to. Reacting to the people around it to fit in. Well. He thinks it’s a side effect, it could also just be a survival method because of how he grew up. 

[sothischickshe]

Ooo I love your s5 scenario! Now what do you picture for Brio in that scenario? Like what would you like to see for Rio/ Brio if there was a s5?

Thank you! 😊

So in that dreamy🐢 s5 scenario, I think Beth's loneliness would be a Blatant Theme, and there'd be plenty of scope for Beth & (nickless mickless) rio 🥃bonding. I would like rio engaging with the fact that he's terrible at his job/decision making generally, & appreciative of the fact that he's conned beth into wanting to be the boss/doing more of the work 😂

I'd also LOVE a Beth/murder storyline -- either of boomer, or a weasly echo of him, and particularly Beth being pretty unbothered in the aftermath, and rio being like 😲oh no how was I to know there'd be consequences for creating a monster 😂😂😂

I don't have too many complaints about Beth & rio's canon ending (other than they should have been boozing on that bench 🤺), and I like how open ended it was. I think we wouldn't have got/ten that, nor Beth & Dean coming to a divorce conclusion together, were it not the series finale, so it's kinda hard for me to conceptualise that much of a genuinely canonish ~s5 storyline for them, bc I don't think canon would have left them at that point were it not the end♻️

But in my happily ever after where Ruby, Annie, rhea, Nancy etc run off to start their nevada commune, I guess beth & rio would be even lonelier and whinier as basically the only ppl left in town🙊🥃