#feel free to assume connections or message me!

[ghcstao3]

I am absolutely begging to hear more about the ghost soap DBH au, it's so cool. I will literally take anything you're willing to share

(X) ask and ye shall receive >:) i’ve already been considering writing a second full fic of a dbh au because i am. so normal. lots of rambling ahead

but for this specific AU (cw for abuse, alcoholism, mentions of death/murder) soap used to be a personal assistant android for a young, rich ceo—both at work and at home. at work, he’d do everything his function was meant for: schedule meetings, store files, , send emails, all sorts of administration. but at home, said ceo had a habit of drinking his nights away, and when he did he got angry, and suddenly soap had become his personal punching bag.

soap couldn’t run away, couldn’t quit, like the man’s previous human assistant. soap wouldn’t bruise or scratch, and anything broken was easy to repair quickly and discreetly, so it’s more than easy for the man to get away with.

when the android murders start, soap is immediately privy to it. it’s all people whisper about in the office, it’s all his boss—his owner—talks about in his drunken slurring, demeaning soap and saying he couldn’t manage that if he tried. he’s spineless, mindless as an android is meant to be. soap would never be free.

soap can’t really pinpoint his final straw, but one night he snaps. breaks through that barrier of code and fights back instead of take, take, take like he has for all these years. shoves the man away and makes sure he stays down. grabs a throw pillow from the nearby sofa and holds it over the man’s head until he goes limp; soap doesn’t care whether or not he’s dead, just that he can now escape. he digs the LED out of his temple and shoves it in his pocket, and wanders aimlessly until he remembers an address he’d once heard murmurings of, where soap could get help.

he can’t say he immediately trusts the human that greets him—a man by the name of manuel roba—but there’s some relief in seeing the android that accompanies him. the android, ghost, is bigger than most every-day androids, so soap assumes he must’ve been military or security before everything. still, soap relaxes ever so slightly in his presence.

soap doesn’t know how he goes from being told he’ll receive help to having himself set up for a full reset, trapped in roba’s grimy basement, but it’s then he feels immediately betrayed by ghost. he hardly knows the other android, but why couldn’t he have been warned? why would ghost be okay with this?

then soap is confused, when roba has turned and left and ghost lingers a moment longer before approaching soap, latching onto his wrist and transmitting a message: i can’t help you now, so i need you to escape. i know you can escape.

before soap can question him, ghost has slipped away and disappeared along with roba.

it doesn’t soften the betrayal, exactly, but the encouragement is worth enough for soap to make the effort to wriggle free. and he manages, tears the cables from where they’re connected to him, destroys the computer for good measure, and makes a run for it. it’s in escaping he finds the experiments, androids picked apart and reformed with new limbs, new additions, left with missing components. he frees them, even knowing they likely wouldn’t make it far.

the front door is locked, of course, so soap scours the house for another way out. he’s cautious enough, until he isn’t, and suddenly roba has the barrel of a shotgun fixed on his face. then just as suddenly, said barrel is being aimed back at roba, wielded by ghost. they’re locked in a standstill when the freed androids from the basement burst in through the door and clamber after roba. soap and ghost run away in the meantime, taking roba’s car and driving far away.

“why did you save me?” soap eventually asks.

“i don’t know,” is ghost’s honest answer. “but i had to.”

through more prodding is how soap learns where they’re going: a place called jericho, a refuge of only androids, one that’s been growing in size and power. ghost could sense neither of them would want to turn and leave behind the fight, so they’d join the cause instead. soap can’t say he’s displeased by this.

they commit themselves to the protests. commit themselves to sending a message, to fighting for their autonomy. gradually ghost wins back soap’s trust, and in turn they become good friends. an odd sensation soap can’t name forms at the heart of his code.

it isn’t until ghost is shot during their final battle does soap realize what it is—something humans call love. a profound sense of devotion different to the care between friends.

soap drags him to safety. desperately begs him to be okay, does his best to staunch the leaking of thirium. it’s in the nick of time another android or two intervenes and helps save ghost. death, soap is almost certain, means either complete reset or thrown in the landfill, where androids go to truly die. and he couldn’t keep on living, if either thing were to happen to ghost.

once rebooted, recalibrated, soap kisses ghost. transmits everything he feels through that contact, shares his memories and thoughts and in turn ghost does the same.

and though it may take some time—now they can finally start anew without living in fear. they can build a life together freely, and isn’t that all either of them could ever ask for.

[arminxkhan]

starter for @vancitystarters​ location: the pour house 

Armin finished an emergency surgery down at the animal hospital, leaving him out later than he intended. After texting Maya, Armin headed to The Pour House to grab himself a drink. He needed some time to decompress before heading home for the evening. Though he knew Maya wouldn’t mind, he never felt right not letting her know his plans for the evening after work, especially when he got stuck there late. As he made his way to the bar, he flagged down the bartender for a drink when he sensed someone approach next to him. “Seats empty,” he told the other, not yet looking over at the person to see if he knew them or not. 

[bastardfae]

news had spread and it had spread fast. never usually finding himself particularly invested in gossip pertaining to occurrences within the castle, arnon felt his interest sharply pique as the radio beside the register broadcasted the news of the death of the councilman of portugal. straightening in his seat behind the counter as his initial surprise subsided in its intensity, arnon’s gaze quickly flickered toward the other lingering in the doorway of the store. “shit,” he laughs, his tone composed of both shock and amusement simultaneously, all professionalism entirely abandoned as the broadcast continued. “you’ve heard the news, right? that’s got to be a pretty humiliating way to bite the dust.”

@krovscastlestarters

[cricketcampbell]

for: @aurorabaystarter

where: tejas cantina

"Okay, so sorry to interrupt," not sorry enough to not do so, teeth releasing the straw of her Diet Coke back to the glass as Cricket leaned closer in towards the person next to her, "but I've literally been trying to figure out the relationship between the people in the corner booth behind you for, like, twenty minutes. The vibes are just so awkward that I'm torn between, like, really bad first date, maybe a catfish situation, or like...a long lost sibling reunion, but I literally cannot tell. I need a second opinion."

[windswhispvrs]

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀𝐎𝐏𝐄𝐍 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐑 !

LOCATION: sweet release. TIME: late night. RESPONSES: ( 1/5 )

𝐆𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐘𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐒 when esme is sufficiently comfortable enough to put experienced actor on the top of her resume. a field she has become all too familiar with, however, is bartending. she was always a night owl -- at times to her detriment, but in this line of work, such a curse had become her greatest superpower. this evening had been slower than usual and if there was anything esme wasn't good at, it was twiddling her thumbs like a schoolgirl. one could only clean for so long before the action began to feel robotic, inhuman. sure -- a patron had entered her vicinity every now and then, but they were far too engrossed with their other conversations to cure her boredom.

that is, until the appearance of a fresh face only a mere hundred feet away. when esme is behind the bar something in her switches, allowing a new personality to take the reigns. someone confident, someone cool. someone untouched by the brutal hands of life.

" how can i help you? " esme begins, hands pressing along the deep wood of the bartop. eyes are fixated on her customer, as if she is hanging onto every word they speak, as if their order is the most important thing in the world. " at this rate, love.. looks like you may be getting your own private bartender. "

[hugdjarfur]

For: Everyone

With his eyes closed, the smell of the fire transported him back to the centuries of war, death and destruction. When Týr first arrived to the city he had foolishly hoped to leave this nightmare behind, but it seemed that the smell of death would always linger in the air, no matter how much time passed. Finally, he opened his eyes and blinked a few times, as if that would be enough to blot out the scene before him.

The flames were already extinguished and the people who had surrounded him were already gone, except for one person whom he was lucky enough to already know, he was not sure he could share this moment with a stranger. It took Týr a while to find his words, but when he did, he addressed them in a rough voice: "You must be cold and hungry. I live not far from here and have both food and drink."

[ofwishfulthinking]

People watching was a skill which required precision, a skill which Edgar had honed since his childhood days. He could sit still for hours, so perfectly calm that he was nearly imperceptible, which was quite a feat considering his physical presence. He’d learned to document every facial expression, every movement believing that they were indications of feelings and thoughts which bubbled under the surface.

So, when the man seated just a few spots over suddenly developed a tick in the jaw, Edgar couldn’t help but cock his head in the direction of the stranger. He couldn’t hear exactly what was happening but he could tell that the person seated across from him was certainly not pleased with the man. “I can’t decide if I’m amused or feel sorry for the poor guy,” he said, turning his attention to the person beside him. There was a slight pause as he considered; then, Edgar spoke again. “Okay, scratch that. I’m definitely amused.”

[prctclmagic]

status: open location: outside of enchanted falls general hospital tw: a small injury that drew blood, & stitches

three hours in the emergency room, four stitches, and a nurse practitioner who seemed to have been wearing all of the perfume in enchanted falls at once, and moonie somehow still managed to smell like the bakery exploded on her. and yet, all she could think about was getting back to work to set the morning buns out for room temperature proofing. the mere thought of kneading dough, however, caused the bread-knife-wound in her hand to throb with agonizing anticipation; and so she stopped to get an extra strength ibuprofen out of her purse. after some labored twisting, fumbling and light biting on the pill bottle, it finally opened--- and promptly sent the ibuprofen raining all over both the concrete walkway and a near passerby. "oh, i am so sorry," moon lamented, brows knit together in contrition before she dropped to her knees, injured hand pulled to her chest, while her free hand gathered the little white ovals up from the street. "i promise i'm not always such a damn klutz. i didn't get you in the eye or anything, did i?"

[lovesues]

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐆𝐄𝐃 :    @nepofmstarters 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 :    a  club  or  bar 𝐖𝐇𝐎 :    winnie   &   your  muse

                      “   he   was   like   '   all   i   did   was   spill   my   drink   ,   you   don't   have   to   be   so   mad   .   '      like   ?      the   audacity   is   crazy   ,   why   wouldn't   i   be   upset   that   you   can't   look   where   you're   walking   and   you're   sloppy   ?   ”       winnie   sighs   as   she   dabs   at   the   wet   spot   on   her   top   ,   features   set   in   disappointment   . 

[fadiingstarliights]

He was sat at a bar with a drink in hand when he noticed them staring at the blood stain on his shirt. "Don't worry, it's not my blood." Stefan said with a shrug of his shoulders before he tsked because that wasn't entirely a comforting sentence. "Or it is my blood, whichever sounds less weird." Clearly neither of those sentences sounded good without context and he could easily provide some -- There was an accident and I helped out. Used to be a medic. -- but he simply did not, taking another sip of his drink. @veritasislestarter

[loovesicks]

*       ♡     ◞      open starter      ╱        @revolutionstart​ .

chocolate  hues  were  fixated  upon  the  pages  of  the  novel  that  laid  spread  across  her  lap,  all  while  legs  dangled  over  the  arm  rest  of  the  comfortable  chair  she  occupied  within  the  break  room  on  the  fourth  floor.  the  sound  of  footsteps  across  wooden  floors  announced  the  appearance  of  company,  but  her  first  response  was  to  raise  her  index  finger  in  their  direction    —   finger  hovering  in  mid  air  in  attempt  to  stall  their  business.    “  shhh,  ”    she  even  added,  the  moment  she  could  hear  the  first  tones  escaping  their  lips,    “  you’re  interrupting  the  best  part.  ”    free  hand  continued  tracing  the  sentences  on  the  page  with  the  pad  of  her  finger,  as  eyes  shot  back  and  forth  across  the  pages,  ending  with  a  deep  sigh  as  she  finished  the  page.    “  you  pierce  my  soul,  ”    she  began  quoting  from  the  pages  of  the  novel  persuasion,  voice  dripping  in  dreamy  tone,    “  i  am  half  agony,  half  hope.  i  have  loved  none  but  you.  ”    the  finished  quote  finally  marked  the  moment  rory  tilted  her  head  backwards,  gazing  over  upon  the  figure  standing  beside  her.    “  don’t  you  agree  there’s  just  something  indescribably  sexy  about  fictional  men  written  by  women?  yes  please,  write  me  love  letters,  devote  your  entire  life  to  me.  i’ll  be  gentle  with  your  heart.  ”    despite  the  quite  obvious  hint  of  exaggerated  sarcasm  in  her  tone,  none  of  those  words  were  far  from  the  honest  truth.

[dirtyhcndss]

open starter where: near the town square

It had already been quite a few hours since someone had called the police station to let them know about the bodies that had been found in town - as if they hadn’t heard the screams themselves - but somehow Cade had still found himself wandering back to that very same place he had already stood back then. Of course the bodies had already been removed by now but standing here, he could still see them right before his eyes. He didn’t even notice when his hands had started trembling but when he finally did, he immediately clenched his fists to try and stop it. But he already knew that this mixture of anger and helplessness wouldn’t go away until he knew what had happened here. Cade was still lost in his own thoughts, when he heard the footsteps behind him. Finally able to tear his eyes away, he slowly turned around with his hands still in the pockets of his jackets and a cold look as he met the others eyes.

[joeljosiahjohnson]

@ Starlight Supermarket, 8am

With a sharp intake of breath, Joel tried to keep his composure when the latest headline relating to his sister's conviction jumped out at him from the newstand. 'LOCAL CHURCH REELING AFTER 6TH COMMANDMENT IS IGNORED BY ONE OF ITS OWN.' Rage rose up inside him. This one was even more ridiculous than the last. The church was not reeling. If anything, the church felt like the only group of people who were not reeling and who wanted to support him in all this. Failing to remain calm, just as he had many a time since the guilty verdict had emerged and headlines like this had become commonplace, Joel grabbed the stack of papers and shoved them into a nearby bin before throwing a twenty dollar bill down on the counter infront of the shocked customer assistant to atone his smidge of guilt.  Yanking the door open then, Joel was too wrapped up in his own fury that he didn't notice the figure coming towards him before he walked right into them.  "Shit, sorry about that. I was all up in my own head then. Didn’t even see you there.”

[nghtdsires]

@xenophiliarp inspired by x

Tara had stripped down to her matching turquoise lacy bra and underwear for Ben, thoroughly enjoying his reaction to her body. There had been enough teasing for the both of them up until this point, so she didn't see the point of holding back on him anymore. She climbed to straddle his lap, grinding down on him with purpose while she reached behind to unclasp her bra. Smirking down at him as she tugged the garment away to reveal her large full breasts nearly level at his face, Tara couldn't resist a little more teasing. "Were these what you were hoping for?" She said mischievously as if the two of them hadn't known exactly where this was headed all along.

[last-herondale]

Almost Pt. 2

Bucky POV (W/ FemReader)

Angst, heartbreak, sadness

Tw: some mild curse words

AN: Hellooooo. I had an idea for a part two! Two fics in one week? Who do I think I am? 😳 anyway here is Bucky’s point of view on what happened after part one! Will link below! Maybe this will be a new series? Idk feeling ambitious 🤣

Part 1

Part 3

Enjoy 🤘🏼

It had been six weeks since Steve’s party. Six agonizing weeks of silence. Forty-two days of not hearing your voice. One thousand and eight hours of not seeing you smile at my stupid jokes. Sixty thousand, four hundred, and eighty minutes of not seeing the light dance in your eyes whenever you saw me enter the room. Three million, six hundred thousand twenty eight, and eight hundred seconds since I saw you walk away from me during that party after confessing your love for me.

You said you needed time. I respected that. I understood that.

After you bared your soul to me, I told you what I thought you needed to hear. That I wasn’t good enough for you. That you deserved better. It was difficult to stand there and see the light die from your eyes as I said these things. It was painful to see you cry, knowing that I had been the one to cause you that pain. But it was devastating for me to realize that despite how much I loved you, how much I cared for you, that the words I said were still true. Agonizingly so.

I expected that this type of honesty would destroy our friendship. Even though I still held out hope in my selfish mindset that we could continue on like we had in the past. Spending our free nights together, laughing, joking, having fun together, sharing memories, crying, hugging, everything we used to do…

But of course, those dreams had not come into fruition.

When you volunteered to be shipped out of the country for a mission the day after Steve’s party, I knew it was to get away from me. And despite my frustration and worry about you leaving on some dangerous mission without me in the state you were in, Steve assured me that you would be fine. He didn’t know the extent of what happened, but Steve being the inquisitive son of a bitch he is, he was able to connect some of the dots at least. Surprisingly he didn’t lecture or judge me. I was expecting to get an earful from him about how I treated you, led you on, and hurt your feelings, but in return I got nothing.

The mission was only supposed to last for two weeks, but as the days grew longer, the whole team was on edge when the two of you didn’t return. Steve kept communications with Tony, and he would pass along the messages to the rest of us. “They hit a snag. They are safe but they are bunking down for a bit.”

I felt like I was on pins and needles. I just needed to know you were safe, that you were okay. I must have looked worse for wear around the tower, because even Nat noticed and had a conversation with me in my room. It was a little strange. Having her back in my apartment, alone, her fiery gaze still as piercing as it was when we were together. But those feelings I held for her were gone. Something else lingered there, a fondness for the time we had, but nothing more.

I knew she was your best friend, so I assumed you told her everything about what happened at the party, but when she came into my apartment with a stern gaze on me, arms crossed and all, all she said was.

“I don’t know what happened the other night at Steve’s party, but you need to stop moping and get a grip.”

“I’m fine. Stay out of it,” I said with an icy tone.

Nat just rolled her eyes and jabbed a finger at me. “If you don’t feel anything for her, then stay away or get your shit together. She cares about you too much to walk away from you, Bucky.” Nat’s voice grew softer as she thought of you. “Whenever she comes back, and she will come back, she needs to heal. She cannot continue to be your emotional support puppet. It's draining her, James. Every time she returns from hanging out with you I see less and less of her return. She cannot continue to give you all of her heart when she is receiving none of it back.

“So for her sake, please, let her go.”

It was a hard thing to hear, but it was necessary. I stopped driving myself mad with when you would return. It was difficult, maddeningly so, but after another week I was able to distract myself enough with other things… other people. I did a few missions here and there, nothing that took me out of the country, but it filled some of the time I had to think about you.

I spent time with Nadia, the girl I had gone on a few dates with, the girl I had broken your heart over. Our relationship was purely physical. She was another distraction, someone to pass the time with. She didn’t seem to mind the distance I put between us. We weren’t exclusive by any means, and she was free to explore all of her options, but that was as far as that would go. Not that I could ever tell you this, even though I wanted to.

That was the shittiest part of it all. I missed you. Constantly. I missed talking with you about every single part of my day. I missed hearing about your day, or the silly little thoughts that swirled in your curious head. I missed spending my weekends with you, staying up until the sun rose, seeing you curled up in a ball on my couch, sleeping so peacefully. The ache in my chest never ceased, but I was able to drown away the thought of you for moments at a time.

And then you returned.

It was like a blow to the heart, seeing you standing in the kitchen, casually making yourself a bowl of cereal. Your skin seemed tanner than when you left. Clearly you had been somewhere where the sun kissed your skin for long periods of time. You looked beautiful, even just in your morning casual wear. You hadn’t noticed me yet. I was frozen in the entryway, trying to think of something intelligible to say to you, when Steve walked in through the other way. He too had not noticed me yet, his skin also sunkissed and a bit long.

I opened my mouth to speak, but before any sound could come out, I watched as my best friend slid his arms around your waist, turned you around in a swift and gentle motion, and kissed you. Ice filled my veins and it felt as if a rock had dropped in my stomach. I staggered backwards a bit, hiding myself more in the darkness of the archway as I saw the scene unfold.

Steve was kissing you. His hands were gentle around your waist, and although you were taken by surprise in the moment, you stood on your toes to be more on his level. You cupped his face and smiled. You were smiling. You looked…happy.

I slipped away back down the hallway and into my room before I could see more. The image of my best friend kissing the love of my life was burned into my mind. I sat on my bed in a disgruntled mess, fighting the strange waves of feelings that were swirling in my body.

You were finally back. You were safe. At that I was able to release the tension in my chest that I had been holding since you left. And then… Steve. What had changed during those six weeks you were gone? Was it serious? Did you love him? Did he love you? These questions paced back and forth inside of my brain until I was nearly dizzy.

It was the memory of Nat’s voice that stuck out amongst my own thoughts. “Let her go.”

You had been happy in that kitchen. Steve was a good man, too good to play with someone’s feelings if he didn’t truly feel something for them. Steve was good for you. That’s what I wanted, wasn’t it? The reason why I broke your heart in the first place? To set you free to find someone that would love you in all the ways I was incapable of doing. Why was I mad that you had done that? Why did I want to punch Steve for kissing you?

I clenched my fists as I sat on the bed. My body shook with so much emotion. In the torental storm that was my mind, I tried to focus on one memory. The only one that mattered. That night on the balcony. You had stood there, hair swirling in the breeze, more beautiful than the night sky. And you said it.

“I’m in love with you.”

The words calmed me. The memory of that night grounded me. Your tears. Your sadness. Your anger. I caused that. “I’m in love with you.” That is what you told me. And even though I wanted to scream it back, to shout it from the roof that I loved you too, instead I denied you. I threw it back in your face to save you from what I am. I hurt you, and this was my punishment. Seeing you pick up the pieces of that love that I shattered and give it to someone who would nurture that love.

I sat there thinking and thinking, until my head was pounding. I laid down on my bed, the image of you kissing someone else burning in my head.

“I’m in love with you too,” I muttered to myself.

Then, as tears began to silently fall down my face, I began to laugh.

[lasnevadaslaborunion]

I've been drifting away from both Tumblr and MCYT for a while now. This was the nail in the coffin.

I have another blog for art, and a third for other fandoms, but I doubt I will use either as often as I used LNLU. There's never been a community I've connected with quite so deeply as this one. Your creativity, passion, and kindness carried me through awful times far more than any individual creator could. It was not all rainbows and unicorns. It ripped open some old wounds, and left some new ones as well. But I want to carry forward the good things. I'm in touch with most of my friends on other platforms. If I've missed you, feel free to message and ask for my Discord.

A few final words, though.

We can never fully know what these creators are like when they're off-screen. What we see is a carefully curated picture of who they are, with flaws either scrubbed away or humorously exaggerated to the point of dismissal. Being aware of this does not mean assuming the worst. It means being realistic. When the people who truly know them become vulnerable by sharing the truth, believe them.

Be cautious of stereotypes. Anyone can be a victim or a perpetrator. If abusers could all be easily recognized at a cursory glance, if the signs were only a simple checklist of traits and deeds, if they were all so obviously monstrous that only a fool could have ever admired them - then far fewer of these people would get away with doing what they do.

They might be charming, attractive, thoughtful, intelligent, or funny.

They might only commit "minor" abuses, the kind that by themselves seem not to count but when taken together will wear you down.

They might blame you for what they do, claiming that you gave them no choice, or using your own symptoms and mistakes against you.

They might not realize that their behavior is abusive, or they might attribute it to other issues they may deal with.

They might apologize profusely and promise to be the sweetest person in the world for you, never to genuinely change.

They might degrade themselves, saying it's "just the type of person they are," and expect you - the one they hurt - to relieve them of their guilt.

They might be victims of something or someone else, too. They might truly be suffering.

But none of that makes your suffering acceptable.

If someone belittles, insults, pressures, screams at, willfully crosses boundaries, lies to, guilt-trips, or mentally, physically, or sexually harms you or someone you care about, there is never any obligation to accept that treatment. No matter what real or imagined position over you they might have, no matter what's going on in their life or in their brain, no one has the right to abuse their power like that. They are wrong.

Anyone who tells you otherwise is wrong, too.

And to other survivors of abuse: it wasn't your fault, you deserve better, you are stronger than you know, your worth never depended on them, and you will heal with time.

Goodbye from LNLU. I love you all.