#hoo boy did I see that wrong

[wovenstarlight]

ageswap anon here again, thanks! i swear you have the best writing and concept ideas. what hyj up to? does he awaken this time around is he ageswapped with yoohyun and if so how does that affect th han bro relationship ? also if he is ageswapped. what's his relationship with shj?

HEH. HEHEHEHE. i haven't decided abt awakening (and if there's a regression plot) yet but yes he is ageswapped with yoohyun (hyj 20 hyh 25) and when i tell you things are strained. they didn't get any better at communication when hyj learned from hyh's reticent -_- ass. hyh hasn't totally cut hyj off but they're very distant for a long time... and neither of them is taking steps to bridge the gap because. well hyh because he created it intentionally and hyj because. hm. theres a long line of dominoes there but lets just summarize it as he doesn't think hyh wants him to

re: hyj and shj. lmao. they both have similar senses of humor still i guess but hyj mentally relegates him to the position of "mha and byr's junior/little brother/nephew/purse chihuahua/???" and deals with him in much the same way you might handle a friend's younger sibling you end up having to babysit when you hang out with them. i think just for funnies shj has baby's first crush on hyj but because he's, again, Baby (he's 15... a middle schooler.... a very annoying middle schooler......) nothing comes of it. shj just very energetically bothers hyj every time he sees him and is subject to relentless teasing from mha and byr once they pick up on it

[waitingonher]

NIGHTS LIKE THESE — [hoo boys drabbles]

summary: how they react to your bad dreams.

author's note: i wrote leo's + jason's part imagining that the cabins/barracks have individual rooms sooo...also ik this trope is so ran through in the pjo fandom but it's just toooo good i couldn't help myself

percy jackson

percy has always been the type of person to pick up the phone no matter the time. even as he’s on a lone movie marathon and the scene reaches its long-anticipated climax, he’s reaching for his buzzing phone that’s lost beneath the sheets. having found it after the third ring, percy checks the time and the caller id. why are you calling him so late? he answers, “hi babe. i thought you had to wake up early this morning, why are you awake?” 

“hi percy,” your voice was shaky and congested, as if you’d been crying. percy immediately sits up, alarmed at the state of your voice, “did i wake you up?” 

“no, no, i was up watching movies. what’s wrong? is everything okay?” he’s seated at the edge of his bed now, anxiously awaiting your response. 

you force him to sit in silence as you think of an excuse, “yeah, um…i’m okay. i just wanted to hear your voice. but i’ll see you on thursday, okay? goodni-” 

“(y/n), what’s going on?” percy runs a hand through his hair as he heads out of his room to his kitchen. he rips off a napkin from the roll and snatches a pen from the drawer. on the napkin, he writes a brief message to sally, saying that he’d be over at your place and not to worry. 

“nothing. i’m fine, percy,” you mutter. but your boyfriend knows you too well. the way your voice quivers makes it sound as though you were trying to convince yourself that everything was okay, and you were failing miserably. 

percy places his phone between his ear and shoulder as he ties his shoes, “don’t leave me in the dark, (y/n).” 

“don’t worry about me. i’m fine it was just-” 

“babe, i’m coming over, okay?” and with that, percy hangs up. 

he’s walked this path over a hundred times, usually for dropping you off after dates or simply for hanging out with you. but this time, all percy can think about is how you sounded over the phone and that he needs to seriously pick up the pace. 

upon arrival, percy climbs up the fire escape ladder as quickly and quietly as possible. it’s only now that he’s grateful for his experience from all of those laborious quests. reaching your floor, he knocks delicately on the glass. 

“percy, what are you doing here?” you ask after he closes your window, “i’m sorry, you really didn’t need to come all this way. it’s like three in the morning and you-” 

your boyfriend silences you with a gentle kiss, “i’m okay. it’s you i’m worried about. what’s wrong?” 

“it was just a dream.” 

“just a dream?”

“yes, it was just a stupid dream.” 

percy grabs your shoulders, forcing you to look at him, “(y/n), you’re one of the strongest people i know. so if you were crying over it, then it really must be something.” 

you slump on your bed, and percy joins beside you. it's no use hiding it from percy, so with a sigh, you confess, “well, you’re here now. but it just felt so real,” your eyes begin to prick with tears again, “you were laying on the floor…and there was just so much blood, and i tried to stop it—i really did try—but it just kept coming and there was nothing else i could do.” 

honestly, percy didn’t know what to say. but he did know that if your dream was anything like the ones he had about you, they were emotionally and physically crushing. so, he decides that if he can’t say anything, he’d rather show you. percy gently guides your body, until the both of you are laying down. with a strong arm wrapped around your figure and the other rubbing slow circles on your back, he can only hope you understand the message he’s trying to convey. 

“i’m here, (y/n). everything’s going to be okay,” percy continues to whisper sweet nothings into your ear. slowly but surely, your crying mellows into only soft sniffles. 

as you lay on his chest, you can feel the rise and fall of his breathing body. it wasn’t at all like that dream of yours; his cold body eerily still on the floor. not at all like that. you allow yourself to slowly drift off with the rise and fall of his chest, strangely as if it were its own lullaby, “thank you, percy,” you manage to whisper. 

“i love you, (y/n). i’m not leaving you, ever. i promise,” percy whispers back. 

leo valdez

leo’s used to waking up several times in the middle of the night. considering the demigod dreams, he hasn’t remembered the last time he’s gotten a full night's rest, which is why he’s not surprised to be awake at the crisp hour of two a.m. he can’t even remember the dream this time, but leo bets it was another dream foreseeing his imminent death or the end of the world. 

as he stares at the pipes and wires running along the ceiling of bunker 9, a familiar ringtone sounds from his phone. leo quickly wipes the sleep from his eyes and picks up the phone from his nightstand, “(y/n)? are you okay? it’s so late.” 

there’s a silence, followed up by quiet sniffles. were you crying? “hi leo, i’m sorry i probably woke you up didn’t i? go back to sleep, i was-” 

“no i was already awake, what’s wrong?” the moment your boyfriend noticed your shaky voice, his attitude completely changed. suddenly awake and full of energy, he tears off his blanket and reaches for his hoodie and shoes.

considering the fact that you never really call so late alarms him. you calling either meant that you had a nightmare or you were hurt…and leo prayed it was the dream. 

“i’m sorry…” you take a deep breath, “i just had a bad dream, like one of those dreams, you know?” leo knows all too well what you’re talking about, and if it’s anything close to the dreams he has, he can only imagine what you’re feeling, “but i swear i’m okay now. i’ll see you later?” 

but leo’s already out the door as you finish your explanation, “i’m coming over, stay there.” 

“wait leo-” 

he hung up. 

the trek through the forest was usually something one would avoid, especially at this hour, but leo couldn't give less of a shit as he thinks about you crying in your room. a few minutes later after practically sprinting to your cabin, he arrives. locating the window to your room was easy, he’d done this several times before for your sleepovers. leo knocks as quietly as he can on the glass, hoping he doesn’t disturb any of your other siblings. 

surprised, you pull your curtain aside and are face to face with none other than your boyfriend. he looks sweaty and out of breath. leo ran all this way? pushing your question to the side, you rush to open the window and let him in. 

for the first time, leo really gets a good look at you. your eyes are red and puffy; you look at him with such desperation and he can’t help but pull you into a rib-cracking hug. 

“you actually came.” 

“what? of course i did, (y/n),” he takes your face into his hands, rubbing soft circles on each cheek. suddenly, tears begin to flow freely down your face. was it something he said? was he not supposed to come? 

you pick up on his confusion, “i’m sorry, i’m just…glad you’re alive,” leo sits you on your bed, and continues to wipe away the tears, his concern growing with each passing second. your boyfriend urges you to go on, “it’s just the same thing every night. i’m at your grave on the hill, and i’m all alone and it’s raining and i just-” 

“(y/n), breathe,” leo pulls you into his chest once more. he holds you so impossibly tight, ensuring that you know he’s there and he doesn’t plan to ever leave. his sacrifice during the final battle against gaia will forever be amongst one of leo’s biggest regrets. not because he had saved the world, but because of how hard it impacted you. without a doubt, you could easily say that those months where leo was gone were the hardest times of your life. and not a day goes by where leo thinks he can ever forgive himself for it, “i’m here. i’m alive.” 

you nod, your sobs turning into quiet hiccups. leo moves the two of you guys to be laying down, and as final reassurance, he gently guides your hand under his hoodie, allowing you to feel his steady heartbeat. your boyfriend’s skin is warm to the touch and you count his heartbeat…one…two…three. and that was proof enough, “you’re alive.” 

“i am,” leo soothes. he places a gentle kiss atop your head and pulls the covers over your bodies. his arms wrap tightly around your figure, holding you close, “sleep, (y/n). i’ll be here in the morning.”

jason grace

it’s late nights like these that jason has slowly come to appreciate. these scarce nights where he’s completed his praetor duties for the night and he allows himself to indulge in some self-care, which usually consists of a cup of hot herbal tea and a good book. 

usually, jason prefers historical books, oftentimes concerning roman myths or the occasional diary of some war general. what can he say? he likes to be all-knowing when it comes to these things. but this time, as he’s curled up in his bed, he reaches for the book that you had recommended to him: a classic romance novel. jason laughs to himself as he recalls you teasing him about his taste in literature. if he remembers correctly, you called him a “history-loving freak?” 

just as jason’s about to open the book, an unexpected ringing sounds from his phone. he huffs, momentarily disapointed. that is, until he sees who’s calling, “(y/n)? hi, are you okay?” 

“oh, hi,” jason noticed the way your voice sounded off, like you’d been crying, “i didn’t think you’d actually answer.” 

confused, he puts the book back on his nightstand, “of course i would, my love. what’s going on? you sound like you’ve been crying.” 

“no, everything’s okay i just…” you pause, “had a bad dream, so i wanted to listen to your voicemail.”

jason’s heart squeezes at the thought of you going so far as to listen to his own ten second voicemail as a method of comfort. but the feeling goes away just as quickly as it came upon hearing you had a nightmare, “oh i’m sorry, my love. do you want me to come over?” 

“no,” you reply, “it’s okay. i’m better now that i’ve heard your voice. you can go back to bed, jason.” 

despite you declining his offer, jason’s already up and putting his shoes on, “i’ll be there in a few, okay? i love you,” and he hangs up. 

within a handful of minutes, jason reaches your cohort’s barracks. the square windows look impossibly similar, but it’s all thanks to practice that he recognizes yours. even as praetor, he still has to enforce the rules and sneak around. with a quiet knock on your window, he waits in the dark for you. 

“you’re here. you’re alive, jason,” is all you can muster up as your boyfriend stands tall inside your room. his expression is clearly written with worry as he closes the gap between you with a hug. as hard as you tried to fight it, the tears came again in a fresh wave. 

“yeah, i’m here, (y/n). i’m not leaving,” he replies, concern laced in his words. jason notices your tears and gently wipes them away, “c’mere, tell me about your dream,” he beckons, guiding you towards the bed. with a gentle plop, he settles down and opens his arms, inviting you to join him.

settling against jason’s chest, you take a shaky breath as he places kisses on your temple, “i was at your funeral, and you looked so peaceful, like you were sleeping. i just can’t stop thinking about how you looked asleep. and then they expected me to, you know, give a speech in front of the entire camp about you, and i just…i can’t imagine a world without you, so please, you can’t leave me like that.” 

“woah, woah, (y/n) i’m okay, breathe,” jason hushes you, rubbing soft circles on your arm. to be frank, he’s pretty shocked about what you had just said. he can’t get over how shaken up you are by this. but jason can’t even blame you, because if it were him who had the dream, he bets he would also be like this, “i’m here and i have no plan of ever leaving, okay? i’m afraid you’re stuck with me for the rest of your life,” he jokes, hoping to get at least a smile from you. 

jason’s joke succeeds as he feels your body shake with a quiet giggle, “good. i wouldn’t have it any other way.” 

your boyfriend checks your face once more, ensuring that you’ve stopped crying. seeing that you have, he places delicate kisses on each cheek, “hey, how about we go to sleep now? i’ll read you that book,” jason motions to the book on your nightstand, which happens to be the same one you recommended him. 

you nod tiredly, “only if you do different voices for each character.” 

“of course, only for you,” jason quips. 

after adjusting your bodies, jason reaches for the book and opens it to chapter one. but before he begins, he pulls the covers completely over your body and places a chaste kiss on your forehead, “i love you so much, (y/n). and i hope you know that i’ll always be here for you, no matter what.”

[pumpkinbxtch]

hi!!! I was wondering if you could do hcs for what arguing would be like with the HOO boys

Don't talk me like that! | headcanons

— arguing with the hoO boys

warnings: angst, language, boys being...boys

who's here: jason grace, leo valdez, frank zhang ands percy jackson.

a/n: ohh ohh ohhh, yes. I can. I love drama.

— jason grace:

To get into a real fight with him, you must have come a long way because he's so peaceful and always tries to negotiate calmly, making sure both of you communicate effectively. But at the end of the day, you're like any other couple and sometimes end up having real fights.

The big issue is Jason's nature. He goes silent when he's really upset, his emotions hard to show.

When he’s that mad, you can see it on his face. It’s scary, let’s not lie.

When the ice breaks, he tries to take charge to explain what's wrong, which often makes things worse.

He keeps his distance when you argue, tense and rigid. He’s like a handsome, angry log.

Sometimes he says things reluctantly, like "don't act childish," which is so him.

Yes, he raises his voice and gets frustrated, "no, I said NO, THAT’S NOT HOW IT IS, gods…"

If you're wondering if his powers show, the answer is NEVER, or at least not against you. His mouth might taste like metal or his fingers might spark, but that's just him being really stressed.

His eyes get cloudy and grey.

He takes off his glasses and rubs his temples while muttering.

When things finally start to work out, he breathes better and starts talking more because he knows nothing will work if he doesn’t.

He’s practical, coming up with solutions to problems.

When the fight's over, he hugs you and kisses your forehead, relieved to be out of that situation.

Can he stay mad for days? Depends on the problem, but he’d prefer it doesn't last more than a day.

— leo valdez;

Leo and you usually argue over small things because you have that kind of relationship where you bicker and tease for fun, but when things get serious, the arguments can get heated (get it? heated? laugh, please).

That’s when things get tough. He may seem easy-going, but Leo has a strong temper and is very stubborn when he's mad. Whatever made you really fight doesn't matter because he’ll be stuck on his point.

"No, that's not how it happened." You could be contradicting each other all day until you both turn away and stop talking.

"Well, screw you!" you say, and he growls back, "Yeah, you too," swearing in Spanish. "vale ma-" "me lleva la ch-"

Yes, he switches languages mid-sentence.

"I already told you no! CUANTAS VECES TENGO QUE DECIRLO, carajo!-"

If you know Spanish, you can reply; if not...

"I don’t understand you, idiot. Say it in English or fuck yourself ." (just in case because you’re not sure what he said)

Swearing is common if he's really mad, but it's more his way of dealing with it than being mad at you.

That or sharp sarcasm.

Yes, he might cry if the argument is really bad.

His rigid feelings and insecurity can come up.

Leo is attached, so he’s constantly thinking of ways to fix it because he can’t stand being away from you for too long.

He keeps his distance, terrified of hurting you with his powers, which makes him nervous. "No, DON’T COME NEAR ME." It's for your safety, but it hurts him to see the look in your eyes when he says it.

Can he stay mad for days? Absolutely, but he misses you a lot, though his pride might keep him from showing it.

Don’t worry, he’ll eventually sit down to talk it out, and you’ll both calm down and fix things.

Then he'll give you a big hug and kiss your cheeks.

— frank zhang:

it’s hard to imagine: WHAT DID YOU DO TO FIGHT?

Yes, Frank is Mars’s son, but he’d never choose the battlefield for his lover. He’s very careful and always considerate, but yeah he can be severe when things get bad, and when isn't enough just have a serious talk.

You end up fighting in not-so-quiet whispers, with your faces and gestures being the most expressive.

"Of course not, I already told you, hey!" He raises his hands, and his body tenses up threateningly.

Frank tries to understand your point and make himself heard, always mindful of both your feelings. He knows how to set boundaries.

Sometimes, he just can’t take it anymore and signals a pause. "You know what? This is getting too much, and neither of us is in the best shape. Let’s talk tomorrow or later, please."

Does he raise his voice? Hardly, only when he really needs to make a point.

His eyes are bright, tinged with sadness and anger. The deadliest is his calm face or the way he slightly curls his lip, almost growling.

His eyebrows always seem to be touching, even if he doesn’t want them to.

He keeps a cool head to solve things.

Can he stay mad for days? Yes, while clearing his mind and thinking. He’ll come up to you, and you’ll talk it out, making things work in the end.

He’ll take your hand. You might feel guilty for pushing a guy like Frank to his limit, but he doesn’t mind having relationship problems with you:

"I hope we fight many more times, but about totally different things because it means we’ve really solved the previous issues."

— percy jackson:

wtf did you both do to get into a fight?

Percy won't waste a second, trying to resolve it immediately by asking and reflecting on his own actions. "What did I do wrong?" if it was his fault. "Can you listen to me for a second?" if it was you.

He hates being mad at you, just can’t stand it. But if the fight starts, he wants to start or finish it (or both).

Yes, he might cry.

Yes, he might raise his voice. "No, I didn't do anything. LISTEN TO ME."

Then he apologizes for it because he lost it.

He tries to hold your hands and says, "Babe, babe…"

He makes you both breathe and talk calmly.

He argues, of course, but differently. He’ll stop the conversation. "You know what? I'll think about it." He leaves or makes you leave.

Consequently, he might stay mad for days, or both of you might be mad at each other, but he’s thinking of what to say rather than just calming down. (Nothing wrong with that, everyone handles feelings differently and that's valid.)

Yes, he asks his mom.

Yes, he asks Paul.

You both end up fixing things, and he hugs you tight, giving you kisses all over your face while pouting.

"I missed you, babe."

[pixxyofice]

🏰 cursinguponcastles

of course i manage to grab everything EXCEPT for my anxiety medications. they're still stuck there!! in the House!!! every night I worry my friends are going to leave me for asking them to come along and some part of my brain is like "you wouldn't be worrying if you had taken your meds" and I have to then tell my brain the meds. ARE NOT WITH ME!!!

(this post is unrebloggable.)

-

(anon) asked:

plum? how have you been running this blog without anxiety meds?

🏰 cursinguponcastles replied:

Um! How did you know I didn't have my anxiety meds??

-

(anon) asked:

Don't the Houses keep stuff, like, forever? I'm sure if you go back to that House you'll be able to get your meds back. Unless it's like, frozen or something?

🏰 cursinguponcastles replied:

Oh. Ohhhh. Well, um! I am going back to get them! They're back in Dormont! I just won't be focused on getting my meds when I'm there, you know??

-

🎗 ribbpeat reblogged from 🍑 yetanotherfinepeach

🍑 yetanotherfinepeach

so was anyone going to tell me the savior of vaugarde runs a horror blog account or was I supposed to just find that out from her APPARENTLY LEAVING HER MEDS IN THE CENTER FREEZING POINT

-

🍙 chateau-riceballs reblogged from 🧦 socks-to-be

🍯 lovelyhoney-truths

and just when you thought it couldn't get any worse, the savior of vaugarde turns out to be a tumblr user

🛴 offowchmy-nkee

and this is bad... how?

🍯 lovelyhoney-truths

How is this not obvious to you people? She's on tumblr. She's been ACTIVE. Instead of doing her job of saving us she's been giggling about her little vaugarde boys getting eaten. I'm sitting here typing with one arm waiting for vaugarde to be saved, and she's wasting time reading. Boo-hoo she left her anxiety meds in the House where the King is freezing all of us from. Actually, wait! Why didn't she just turn around and take him out? If she's supposed to save vaugarde, assigned to, and she was close to its starting point, why the hell did she walk the other direction and faff about?! Some Savior she is! Most of the country is frozen because of her! And instead of just shutting up and doing her job she went on a funny little pilgrimage. I'm not calling her a Savior anymore. 

🐱 ChangeGirlClaws

do you know about the existence of paragraph breaks. Like at all.

🎀 darts-chatting-blogg

Instead of looking at... all of that, apparently not everybody knows this so look at this.

THE DOORS OF DORMONT GOT LOCKED BY THE KING AND THE SAVIORS HAVE TO FIND FIVE ORBS TO BE ABLE TO EVEN TRY TO SAVE US. And in case you don't know, Vaugarde is huge! The saviors passed by my place a week ago and they only had four Orbs then.

I think Plum and her friends are making good progress, actually! I think she's allowed to relieve stress by reading about guts and gore, actually.

🍙 chateau-riceballs

she's what

-

🐝 finalgirl-standing reblogged from 🐮 The-Cointry-of-Voigarde

🍯 lovelyhoney-truths

Not only does that orb bullshit sound made up and stupid, but apparently Plum also runs a guts and gore blog??? what the fuck is wrong with her. Has she Changed to be so disgusting when she should be Changing herself to be able to save the country?? Do you guys really believe that shit? I haven't heard of a House where Orbs lock the gates, that's clearly her making up excuses for why she can't just go there and beat him. How can her friends stand to be with her when she's this irresponsible?

🎀 darts-chatting-blogg

One. The King warped the place (see image here!) and Dormont was known for experimenting with locks. People just be saying crab, I guess.

Two. Defenders. Get their asses. I'll start.

C

🎗 ribbpeat

R

🍑 yetanotherfinepeach

A

🛴 offowchmy-nkee

B

🐱 ChangeGirlClaws

P

🍙 chateau-riceballs

O

🦴 justanotherchange-blog

W

⚓️ insertcreativebloghere

P

🧦 socks-to-be

E

🐮 The-Cointry-of-Voigarde

N

🐝 finalgirl-standing

I

(this post is unrebloggable.)

-

⚓️ insertcreativebloghere reblogged from 🦴 justanotherchange-blog

🦴 justanotherchange-blog

if I was on a journey to save the country and I forgot my focusing meds at home I would just forget everything. Honestly, Plum's doing much better than I am???

⚓️ insertcreativebloghere

If i had to save the country without my meds i would've thrown myself into the sea

-

🐮 The-Cointry-of-Voigarde

(a picture of the countryside. Half of it is frozen, and the other half isn't)

Well. It was an honor, everyone. I'm glad to have contributed to the crab pow.

-

🏰 cursinguponcastles reblogged 🐧 penguin-do-be-writing

🐧 penguin-do-be-writing

hi everyone, sorry for the silence! My family has been loudly debating what to do about the freezing country, I think i touched something weird and my feet have stopped working for me, so it's hard to get to my writing desk. whoops! it's been a struggle to get words written down. Don't worry, though! I've got a chapter for everyone! This time, things get INTENSE. That internal organs being not internal warning was for a reason!

🏰 cursinguponcastles

CHANGE, THIS WAS SO GOOD!! I'm really sorry you're close to being frozen, but I could see how it affected how you wrote Dembélé struggling to get away! It felt too real, haha!!

I'll miss your fics! I, well, hopefully, will see you in a few months!!

[rallamajoop]

That time Heisenberg stabbed Ethan with a rusty fencepost

Thanks to this one fic project that needed a pornographically detailed list of Ethan’s most memorable injuries, I've spent some time trying to figure out exactly what Heisenberg stabs him with when they first met. Working mostly from a free-camera version from youtube, I settled on calling a metal pipe with a square profile.

Tumblr: I was wrong. The reality is so much worse.

Having cracked the game files and installed my own free-camera mod, I tracked down the original asset for this thing, and, well...

No, really, this is it! Check out those matching cross-bars if you doubt me.

FWIW, it isn’t actually a spear. Those semi-mangled crossbars flag it instead as a spear-headed fence-post. (This may not be a distinction that Ethan would find very comforting after being stabbed with the thing, but there it is, regardless.)

In fact, if you poke around the cemetery area just outside the castle gate, you can even find the fence it presumably came from.

Look in on the cemetery near the church from the lane leading up to the Duke's shop beside it, and this is what you'll see.

It's not a perfect match (in fact, it's even worse viewed from the opposite side, because someone has clearly stuffed up the textures on different sides of the same asset). I'll also note that if you go back to this fence again after meeting Heisenberg, you won’t find any suspicious gaps in it where a post was recently ripped out. So I’m going to just go ahead and assume this particular piece was lying in a pile of surplus scrap in the cellar somewhere, and Heisenberg did not, in fact, drag the thing all the way there from well outside the whole damn building. I mean, at that point, you’re just showing off.

The fence post is, admittedly, pretty hard to get a good look at in the actual game. Unlike all the other crap Heisenberg already has levitating around him in this scene, the fencepost doesn’t appear at all until Heisenberg stabs Ethan with it. It actually seems to emerge at speed from between a couple of barrels at the back. But if you’re enough of a lunatic to play around with the various slow motion/rewind settings that came with the free camera mod, you can get a decent shot of it in flight, cleaning up any remaining doubt that this is the same asset that was used in game.

It even freaking spins in the air as it moves. FTR, yes, it does go in pointy-end first. And the whole fucking spearhead ends up buried in poor Ethan. (Please feel free to insert your own dick-joke here.) Those paying really close attention might even note that the blood on Ethan's shirt is present even before the spear hits him, but that's just going to be virtual-stunt-coordination having a normal one.

I can offer you no similarly definitive insight into why Heisenberg would think stabbing Ethan with this thing was a good idea. I can’t even tell you if he knew for sure that it was Ethan Winters he was talking to at this point (maybe he's just playing dumb, pretending not to recognise him. Or maybe he legit didn't know that Ethan himself had made an appearance until Miranda told him. Sure, he's already got that whole conspiracy board, but finding real pictures of this Ethan-guy is surprisingly hard.) But whether Heis was already testing out Ethan’s ‘interesting body’, or whether he’d just generally assumed that anyone who could survive a full lycan assault on the village wouldn’t be too seriously inconvenienced by a little stabbing, hoo boy was this one way to make a first impression.

I’m not even sure which of these losers is the bigger idiot here: the one who imagined Ethan might still agree to work with him even after inserting a very convincing imitation-spearhead into his intestines, or the one who never thought to seriously question how he keeps shrugging off injuries just as exciting as this one.

They probably deserve each other.

[etherealily]

𝒮𝐻𝒜𝑅𝒟𝒮 // 🇳​​🇦​​🇹​​🇪​ ​🇯​​🇦​​🇨​​🇴​​🇧​​🇸​.

Nate Jacobs + Fem!reader. Warnings : Dark. SFW, but discretion advised. Slur used.

This one is loooong.

Part 1 : Whiplash

Part 2 : 9 Lives

Part 3 : Blessed

Part 5 : Eighteen

Part 6 : Sin

You do NOT have permission to repost and/or translate any of my fics.

Desc. : Bender? Nah, bend...her (to your will).

════════════════════ ⋆ ♟️ ⋆ ══════════════════

Nate didn't really seem the type to get anxious.

Okay, scratch that. He got anxious when you weren't there to high-five him before a game.

But even that didn't come close to whatever the fuck he was feeling when he called you that evening, yelling as if you'd killed his fucking cat, or something.

"Come faster, come faster!", he urged, ignoring you as you informed him you were only human, and you were on your way as fast as possible. The lewd joke was right there, and he didn't take it. Something was seriously wrong.

"Why the hell are you so jumpy?"

"I'll explain when you get here. Slight change of plans. You're wearing something... conservative, yeah?"

"What?"

"Like, jeans and a T-shirt is fine, I guess.", he muttered, on the other end of the line, as if he was mentally picturing exactly what he wanted you to be wearing.

"Did you think my original plan was to show up in lingerie?"

"Jesus fucking Christ, stop being so fucking defensive!"

That was a slur that you just heard in his voice. "Are you drunk?"

"You're scarily good at this."

"Why are you drunk already?" Wasn't even dark yet.

"Can you just fucking drive, please?"

You rolled your eyes, taking a small moment to sadistically picture his head caught in the wheel, before placing your phone down and speeding up the car that unfortunately had to relive the trauma of driving because Nate Jacobs told it to.

The Jacobs household was infuriatingly stereotypical. Of course he'd have a pretty spectacular front doorstep. It was almost designed to lure you in.

You weren't even allowed to ring the doorbell, he answered the door much before. That was a shame. You wanted to be the one forcing him to come somewhere reluctantly, for once.

"Don't speak unless spoken to." Well, hello to you, too.

"What?"

"It's not just us."

No, no, no, no.

"Nate, you fucking asshole.", you hissed.

"I didn't know! My brother found out you were coming over and told my parents, so they cancelled plans to meet you."

"Why?"

"'Cause our Dad's a jerk, and my Mom's probably going to judge you, and my brother's a coward who hates me."

That was way too much Jacobs drama for one single minute, and you were not even two steps into the house.

"Wait, just-"

"It's fine, just sit next to me, shut up, and don't like... make eye contact."

"Am I meeting your family or getting into the cage with a fucking tiger?"

"Also, don't cuss.", he warned, pointing a finger at you and guiding you by your shoulders further into the abyss he called a home. "Smile. A lot."

Was it really even a normal family dinner if you had to be prepped this much? No, probably not.

"Hey, look who finally showed up!", he chuckled, the fakest breeze in his voice as he steered your shoulders towards a chair.

The rest of the Jacobs family looked up at you.

And suddenly, you'd have been fine clinging to Nate, because he was evidently the mildest of them. Rich freaks.

"Oh, the project partner." His mother, laying plates down on the table before patting your head, was a sight to behold. "Bit late.", she remarked, sickening sweetness lacing her tone as she stared pointedly at Nate behind you as if you couldn't fucking see it.

"Yeah, well, she's just learning to drive, y'know? Goes really slow."

Oh, boo-fucking-hoo, mama's boy, just say you had no intention of having your family here tonight.

"Nate, you never told me she could legally drive."

That must be the brother - the coward. He looked like he'd fucking rip you apart with just a glare.

"I didn't tell you anything.', he mumbled, more for you than him, before making his voice louder. "Y/N, this is my brother, Aaron, Aaron, Y/N."

His eyes made your skin crawl. Like you were a weapon he'd just been able to use against Nate.

"And, uh, my dad. Dad, this is, uh-"

You had no idea when your name had become so hard for him to pronounce, the way he was unable to get it out.

"Y/N, yes, I heard. I'm Cal. Cal Jacobs."

You'd take Nate forcing a gun down your throat to the feel of Cal's hand shaking yours any day.

In comparison, Nate's gun was basically the gentlest thing you'd ever be able to feel. A caress, essentially.

"Sit, sit.", he instructed, gesturing at you to do as he said in his own house or else. "So."

He was so fucking drunk. You could see it in his eyes.

Both Cal and Nate Jacobs were shitfaced.

Nate, you understood, because after hearing his description, even you seemed to need liquid courage to get through a dinner with his drunk dad.

"So.", responded Nate, blankly, as he sat down next to you, as promised.

The chairs you were on were fancy but seemed tired, in a way. Like they were putting up a strong front.

"What, pray tell, is this famous project that you've apparently been sneaking out for, according to Aaron?"

Oh, that was the problem! The sneaking out! Oh, that was okay, that was in your jurisdiction, you could just fix it. Make it sound like there was no other time to meet up. Cool cool cool.

"It's just this thing for psychology. About athletes and superstitions."

"My Nate doesn't have any superstitions. He wins because he's the best.", interjected his mother, as if you'd been holding a gun to his face and she'd just jumped in front of him. You looked at the giant plate she'd just set down. Fucking steak.

With a knowing glance at Nate, you nodded. "Yes, but jocks don't really like admitting it. So I just ask him about his buddies who do have superstitions. Seeing as he has none of his own."

You didn't bother to look at the fuck-you-so-much glare he was sending your way.

"Oh, yes, Mom, Nate's just the best. Don't you think he's just the best, Y/N?", cooed Aaron, clearly hinting at something only he and Nate were in on.

"Yes, yes, he's very good at what he does."

"What he does?"

"I mean, you are talking about him as QB, right?"

He took a gulp of water, nodding as he searched into your eyes for some tell that he'd expected you to have. "Right."

Nate subtly shook his head after you frowned at him. Let it go.

"So, you've taken psychology."

His dad didn't really seem the jerk that Nate had made him out to be. Sure, he had the whole terrifying handshake thing going, but he wasn't all bad. He was the only one with his sanity intact, and the fact that he was plastered yet normal was both relieving and mildly concerning.

"Yeah."

"How come?"

"Always been interested in how it works."

"Can you read minds?"

"Essentially."

"Read mine."

"I... don't know you well enough."

"Later, then. When we know each other a bit better. Meanwhile, dig in."

Involuntarily, your gaze turned back to the asshole you'd had the misfortune of interacting with for the past three weeks, and he nodded, either telling you you did well, or giving you permission to eat.

Either way, your mouth was now shut and would continue to be unless someone forced it open. The awkward clinks of glasses and clangs of cutlery rang through the room, battling fruitlessly to dissolve the tension.

"How's the food?"

Why was Nate trying to get you to talk?

"Oh, great, I really like it."

Nate's mother smiled at that. "Well, thanks. It's actually a new recipe I found on some obscure old cooking show tape my mother had recorded, back in her day! God, I'm telling you, those were simpler times."

Oh. So Nate hadn't cooked. Couldn't say you were surprised.

"Well, it's lovely.", you replied, smiling down at the garbage you had to put into your system. It was nothing personal, really, steak was just gross.

"I must say, Y/N, you're so much more polite than that girl. She was a real-"

"Mom. Mom.", warned Nate, shaking his head and waving his hand in front of his throat in a cut it out motion."She's friends with Maddy."

The entire table suddenly went silent, as if he'd just confirmed your involvement in a pyramid scheme. "Oh.", said Aaron, and his fucking eyes showed you he was full of pure mirth. "That's interesting."

"You're friends with both Nate and Maddy?", questioned Mrs Jacobs, as if trying so desperately to figure out your intentions for her baby boy.

"I'm friends with Maddy, and have been for... basically my whole life. And, yeah, I guess now I'm friends with Nate for the project. I don't get why it's so-"

"She's pretending to be her friend, Mom, alright? It's a childhood loyalty thing, but no one likes Maddy, she's a fu- she's not likeable."

Oh, so now Nate could suddenly write out your entire story and replace it with a script of his own making?

Acting as if she'd just dodged a cancer scare, she placed her hand on her chest, sighing in relief. "Thank god. You could've said that, dear. I was worried for a moment there."

You looked back down at the food. You couldn't shake the feeling that your lack of response had been a form of betrayal, though it was rooted in fear.

"So you and Nate are friends?"

"Yeah."

"Why?"

I don't know, Aaron, why do people befriend psychopaths? To save their own asses, of course.

"I mean... what do I even say to that?", you laughed, and it was supposed to mock him, but it just showed how nervous you really were. Fuck. Blood in shark-infested waters. "I guess he's... a nice guy, so, y'know."

Even you didn't believe that. Even NATE didn't believe that.

"That's a new one."

You nodded, clearing your throat as you continued to work on slicing up your steak. All three Jacobs men watched the piece go into your mouth and you wanted to throw it right back up.

"You think he's hot?"

"What?"

"Nate. My lil' bro. You think he's hot?"

"Aaron, honestly!", muttered his mother, shaking her head as if this was all just a playful banter session. "Stop it. Nate said they're friends, so they're friends."

Your phone buzzed.

'I really didn't know they'd be here.'

'Shut up.'

'Ur doing great.'

'I said shut up.'

'Lol.'

"Nate, didn't you tell her we've got a strict no-phones-at-the-table rule?"

You stuffed the phone back in your pocket, as well as any hope you'd get out of this house anytime soon.

"I mean, you're a total smokeshow. And he's..."

"Aaron."

Aaron smirked through his chewing, winking at you. "Well, he's attracted to smokeshows. Total match. But you're, what, a cheerleader? That's his real type."

"No, I'm not a cheerleader."

He sucked in breath, sharply, tutting as he shaked his head. "Tough luck."

"Aaron.", warned Nate, sucking his teeth. "Shut up."

"I'm just saying. It's not surprising he hasn't dicked you down yet."

THAT escalated fast.

"Aaron! No cussing at the table, and especially not in front of guests.", hissed Mrs. Jacobs, as if her youngest son's entire vocabulary didn't consist of the word 'fuck'. "I'm sorry, he gets like this when he teases his brother."

"Or maybe he... oh, wait, didn't he invite you here alone first?", mused Aaron, frowning in mock curiosity.

Nate's hand found your knee under the table, patting the side of it as if he could tell you were losing it. There was some kind of psychological warfare underfoot, and you weren't in on the joke, the origin or the punchline. You were being blindsided. Let it go. Fuck what his eyes told you, you'd fucking riot if you didn't get out of there right now.

Cal, who'd been perfectly silent for all this time, leaned back in his chair, his fork down and apparently, his booze-filled blood shooting up. "I'm curious, too. In more polite words than that. Why are you and Y/N just friends?"

Okay, this was clearly not your jurisdiction. This treatment was not because he'd, like, broken curfew or something.

"Dad, we're just partners. Project partners."

"Shame. She's a knockout."

Okay, Aaron saying that was creepy enough.

"No, seriously, Y/N, you're really beautiful. Nate couldn't do better if he tried." Sounded backhanded, and it probably was. "If you're not attracted to him, it's kind of an insult to me, isn't it?", he inquired, innocently, his eyes twinkling. "Aren't I good looking?"

"What the fuck are you guys doing?" It was weird seeing Nate playing the white knight in your story and not the dragon, but hey, you'd take it.

"I mean...", continued Cal, taking a bite of his food, all the while gazing at you. "Unless your issue is just with his personality. Because then..."

What. The. Fuck.

"Y'know.", said Cal, offhandedly, as if the entire fucking table didn't know what he was implying. "Just food for thought."

"What the fuck are you guys doing?", he repeated, his voice sounding more strained by the minute.

"Nate."

"No, Mom, I will fucking cuss, if they're sitting here being fucking assholes about it!"

"Don't you DARE talk to me like that, son!", yelled Cal, and suddenly, you felt like a voyeur zooming in on someone else's life, someone else's argument, someone else's issues.

Aaron lifted up his hands in defense, standing up as well. "Hey, man, I'm just saying. You're disappointing men everywhere if you don't hit that."

"Oh, you're one to talk, you bitchless waste of FUCKING space."

"One goddamn night! One goddamned night without this bullshit, please!"

"Oh, come on, Marsha, you know full fucking well you're no innocent here! You've raised these boys up so goddamn weak that they can't even fucking do their own laundry, and CLEARLY can't fucking learn RESPECT!"

Evidently the no-cuss-rule was out.

Nate's hand slammed down on the table next to you so hard your plate shook, and suddenly, you wished you had shown up in lingerie. At least the mother would've kicked you out as soon as you'd walked in.

Your eyes stayed on your fork, the shitty fucking steak, and you waited. For what, you didn't know. But eventually, Nate sat back down, and so did the other two Jacobs men.

Okay. Phew.

And then Nate muttered 'faggot', and suddenly, Aaron was ushering you into a room - Nate's room, he informed you, in a hurry - and you were locked in. Screams, the sound of things slamming on the floor, and a distinct crack ensued.

FUCKING CHRIST.

═══════════════════ ⋆ ♟️ ⋆ ═══════════════════

The light from the living room beamed into the room with the monogrammed pillows -pathetic, you had to remember to mock him for it later- about twelve minutes later.

You knew that because you'd been keeping track.

The entire evening was surrounded by a lack of clarity, and after whatever had happened out there that you were not allowed to be privy to, thankfully , you were now completely in the dark as to what the whole stiff, insinuation during dinner was all about. What, they thought you guys were hooking up, was that it?

But all that just dissipated once you saw Nate standing in the doorway, looking at you as if he had just accidentally broken your favourite toy on the playground at five years old. And he was even drunker than he was before.

And once more, you allowed your heart to break for Nate Jacobs.

Wait, no, scratch that.

Your heart broke for him, with none of your own volition. It just fucking happened.

"Are you okay?" What you were really asking was 'did he hurt you?', but you didn't say it.

He didn't respond, and instead took cautious steps toward you, as though you were a bomb he'd never learnt to dismantle before.

But the caution wore off quite fast, because suddenly, your hands were stroking his hair and he was clinging onto you like a vine. Or a python with its prey. TBD.

He kept muttering things into the crook of your neck, things that vaguely resembled 'I'm sorry', but, I mean, it was Nate.

That was usually followed by some kind of blackmail, right?

Blackmail, not pained moments when his mind led him to thoughts that made him grip tighter onto you, like the hug was his lifeline. RIGHT?

"I'm so fucking sorry."

Evidently, you'd heard him right the first time.

"It's okay. Shh. It's okay." At this point there was nothing else you could do except lie to him.

"I fucking hate him, he's a fucking asshole!", he grunted, his words muffled but strong in your hair.

"It's fine, I wasn't offended." You understood. People are weird when drunk. Not usually asking a minor to fuck them kind of weird, but maybe that was just your lack of exposure.

He pushed you away, looking at you as if you'd just suggested cannibalism or something even more sickening. "It's fine? You weren't offended? Y/N, my dad literally asked to fuck you! What, do you want him to, is that why you were looking at him like that?"

'He's sloshed, he's sloshed, he's sloshed.' , you reminded yourself, lest you punch him again.

"Nate-"

"No. I have a question.", he said, closing his eyes and then opening them wide for a moment. This told you that the liquor had just pierced his skull. "You- You fuck Shane Crestin, the biggest fucking cunt in the world, you wanna fuck my DAD, but you won't fuck ME?", he asked, his voice increasing in decibel and his finger repeatedly slamming against his chest, like he apparently wanted to do to you.

SLOSHED, SLOSHED, SLOSHED. Remember.

"Nate, I didn't fuck Shane, I don't want to fuck your dad, and I- I don't wanna fuck anyone!"

"Why not ME? Do you not like me? You think I'm a prick? I'm not good enough for your whore ass?"

"Nate, I'm just-"

"HOW ARE YOU SO FINE WITH MY DAD WANTING TO FUCK YOU?!"

"I'm not! It makes me sick, but-"

"SO WHY WON'T YOU SAY HE'S AN ASSHOLE? SAY IT! SAY IT!"

"Nate-"

"FUCKING SAY IT!"

You almost cried at how fast you had to dodge the lamp that came whizzing your way before crashing and disintegrating against the wall behind you.

It amazed you how you knew that this boy's mother and brother were probably still lingering in the same house, hearing this bullshit, and yet not a peep came out of them. Fucking jerks.

"Nate."

"I swear to god, Y/N, if you don't say it right now-"

"Fine, he's an asshole!"

He looked up at you. He didn't believe it. It's fine, you didn't give a shit anymore. It went without saying, and if he needed you to say it, he was an idiot. "Bullshit."

"You're not apologizing?"

"For what? Yelling? No, I'm not."

Deliberately obtuse, just like always.

Speaking of which, you were a hundred percent sure you'd been grazed at your temple. Your fingers returned from the site with red all over them.

"I could've been hurt." You displayed those fingers to him, right in front of the eyes, so he could better view the same scarlet gore you had to see in his first ever text to you, but he looked at them like you'd showed him his own face in the mirror.

'That's normal', his look said.

"You could've fucked my dad, too, but neither of those things happened tonight." This was what he actually said.

It was like he'd forgotten what happened two seconds ago. Like the shards of glass lying in front of his wall had always been there, and were nothing out of the ordinary.

"Okay, that's fucking it.", you scoffed, shouldering past him on your way out. You'd hoped he wouldn't stop you, but you'd known he would.

"No."

Okay, you'd expected 'wait', or something nicer.

"Shut up, Nate, don't push me."

"You're bleeding. The corner store doesn't have first-aid. I do."

He said it like that was the answer to everything. That you should never have any more questions about his actions.

You let him lead you back to the bed, the silence gnawing at you both. He seemed more than happy to let it devour him whole, seeing as he was tight-lipped and disinterested, almost, when he turned on the light in his bathroom, foraging around for his first-aid kit, or whatever.

He looked like he was about to go batshit for a second time that night, the frantic manner in which he was throwing stuff off his counter to find it, yanking the drawers open so forcefully they'd scream if they could.

Luckily, though, he found the damn thing, tossing it to you from where he stood. Catching it, you opened the box, wordlessly rummaging through for cotton or band-aids or something to keep your hand and eyes - and most importantly, mind - busy.

The cotton sitting nervously in your hand, you took tentative steps into the bathroom, wisely keeping your distance from Nate, who stood still, ruminating on something with one hand still on the drawer's handle.

You stood in front of the mirror.

The mirror lied to you. It always has, always will. Your damage looked minimal, but that was excluding the emotional one.

You looked away from your reflection's eyes to focus on the side of your forehead, and sometimes to your left, at the occassional huff that escaped him.

Mirror-you grimaced just like real-you, as you harshly rubbed at the skin around your cut. So much red.

At this point, it was impossible to avoid your own eyes, those essentially vapid pools of numbness at this point. You didn't know what was going on, and lord knew if you'd understand it even if it was explained to you like a five year old.

Because it couldn't be real. You couldn't be standing right next to the guy who almost maybe blinded you, maybe even KILLED you, had the impact been angled differently.

Your pain only seemed to be getting exacerbated the more cotton you used up. The piece of glass you were trying to remove from your temple was stubborn, like the man who helped transform it from its shape to a shard.

When you finally did remove it, you were quick to try to put a stopper to the gushing blood coming out of it, but the way you did it had you wanting to scream in agony.

"What the hell are you doing? You're supposed to dab, not rub.", he muttered, sucking in his breath sharply as he slapped your hands away, seeming furious at you for not knowing what to do after you get impaled by a piece of broken glass. "The rubbing makes it worse."

His finger turned your jaw toward him, and he snatched the cotton from you before dabbing softly at and around the wound where the little refracting fragment of glass had sat before, and intact, unblemished skin had sat once before that.

Dutifully grabbing a bottle of antiseptic from the first aid box, he tilted it so that it would gently stain the cotton, before pressing it to your temple, shushing you softly as you winced.

Jovially traumatizing what you imagined to be every single cell in the wound, the antiseptic finally fizzled out, its effect no longer sharp and concentrated and debilitatingly painful.

"You're a mess." His voice was so cold, so unkind, so... detached.

You're one to talk.

"Are you going to say anything?" He sounded almost... bored.

You stayed silent. If he thought you were going to give him more things to throw shit at you over, he was sorely mistaken.

He sighed, his jaw ticking slightly. "Y/N."

Your eyes moved away from the mirror behind him and back to his.

He paused his lazy movements to look down at you, your eyes, specifically, before gently bending down so he was suddenly looking up at them.

What that was supposed to achieve was unclear, but what it did affect was your ability to look away.

"I want to hear your voice.", he informed, his eyes moving between yours.

Like a bull craves the muleta.

Glancing down at him, you realized his eyes didn't match his tone. There was something almost dead about them.

"What do you want me to say?"

"Cuss me out, maybe? I don't know. I don't like the quiet."

"Why, 'cause it makes you think?", you scoffed.

"Yes, actually.", he replied, looking at you deadpan. "It does, and that's not really what I wanna do right now, okay?"

He wasn't bored, you realized. He was numb.

"Okay."

"So say something, damn it."

"About what?"

"Y/N. Listen to me when I'm talking to you. I don't give a shit. ANYTHING." He shook your shoulders as if that would cause you to spit out a good conversation in the aftermath of this night.

"Okay, uh... you promised me you'd listen to Queen with me."

He stared at you for a good while before his face softened, just enough for you to wonder if you'd imagined it, and then he frowned. "I did?"

"Yes."

"Then I will."

You nodded. "'Kay."

"Tell me about Queen."

"Look, man, I don't know-"

"Y/N.", he warned, his eyes narrowed in concentration as he reached for a band-aid, eyes never leaving your wound.

"Jeez, fine. Uh, 'We Will Rock You'. 'Bohemian Rhapsody'. 'Another One Bites The Dust'."

"That was them?", he mused softly, the words dying out a little before they reached your ears, as he ripped the cover open with his teeth, then unwrapped the band-aid.

"Yes. Freddie Mercury's the lead singer."

"The one with the teeth?", he inquired, pressing slightly on the band-aid to ensure it stuck.

The sheer dichotomy of what he was doing - cleaning up a wound caused by him that might have killed you- and what he was saying - some quip about the lead singer of some '70's band he'd barely heard of - was astounding.

"Yup." You popped your p, hoping that would echo around the room and fill the silence for long enough that Nate wouldn't pester you to talk again, which was the last thing you felt like doing.

He gazed at your wound for a little while longer before nodding. "Done. Don't touch it for another week, maybe two."

"Okay."

"And I'll get you, like, a blanket or whatever, let me just put this shit back."

"A blanket?"

"Well, yeah. You don't get cold? What are you, superhuman?"

"I'm not staying here. I'm going home."

"Like hell you are.", he laughed dryly, opening his drawer and carefully placing the box back in before moving to the sink again. His hands moved quickly, squeezing paste onto his brush. "Not this late."

You looked down at your watch. "It's nine."

"It's late."

You snorted. "Thought you were the badass curfew-less one. Now you're freaking out about nine p.m?"

Why were you even still talking to this... thing in front of you? Why were you arguing with him? You could just fucking walk out.

He rolled his eyes, his toothbrush being as thorough as possible for a couple minutes before he spat it out, gargling and then turning to look at you. "It's late."

"I'm not spending the night, Nate."

"You a sleep-talker? 'Cause that's crazy shit.", he said, spitting out his mouthwash and wiping with the back of his hand, walking past you as he opened a cupboard, and tossed a heavy-looking duvet down at your feet.

"Nate, I'm not staying over!"

"But the really creepy ones are the sleep-walkers, I'm tellin' you.", he continued, shaking his head as he picked and chose two of his pillows and threw them at your feet, too. "My cousin, back when we were eight, I woke up and found him, like, banging his head on the door. Ouija board shit, bro, I'm tellin' you."

It was clear he was blatantly ignoring you, but what infuriated you the most was that he expected you to sleep on the same floor which was strewn with dangerous, nigh invisible shards of glass.

"Nate!"

"No, seriously, I don't care if it's like, a medical condition or whatever, they're like the fucking Conjuring movie, bro!", he declared, throwing his hands up as he distractedly moved to the other side of his bed, now, checking his phone. "You're not one of 'em, right?"

"You're such a fucking asshole, I'm leaving."

"If you step out that door, I will fucking kill you."

What unnerved you was that his eyes never moved from his phone. This was as casual as his reply to his Mom asking what he wanted for breakfast or something.

Saying he'd kill you was like saying 'pancakes with butter' to him.

"What?"

"I'm going to kill you if you leave." , he huffed, tiredly. And this time, it was clear he really was bored. Bored of the conversation, bored of your resistance, bored.

"You're fucked up."

"Look, sweetie, we've both had a long day-"

"Don't fucking call me that."

He let out a breathy snicker, nodding. Almost like he'd been wondering when you'd call him out on it.

"Fair. Look, bitch, we've both had a long day...", he corrected himself, with a self-satisfied grin, before continuing, "... and I'm not letting you drive home alone with a bleeding forehead."

"I thought you fixed it."

"With the way you're yelling right now, the blood vessel you're about to pop could rip the bandage from the inside out. Look- I- I can't deal with this shit, Y/N, okay? Not tonight. So shut up and close the fucking door."

"My family's expecting me home."

He raised a brow, as if you'd just said something so pathetic he almost felt sorry for you - like you'd just said you still fucking watched Disney Channel, or something. "They know you're here?"

"No." As if.

"Where do they think you are?"

Oh, he'd expected you to have told them you were with another friend. Sorry to disappoint, asshole, but some people aren't as prepared to stay over because their friend had a psycho family.

"I'd rather not talk about it - I don't like to recall my lies."

His eyes widened, and it looked like, for the first time that entire, painful night, he was actually amused, and fuck you for being so pathetic, but you were actually glad you'd mitigated the agony, at least a little bit. "They still think you're at your internship? You didn't tell them?"

"Tell them what? That some jock thinks touching me is his good luck charm, so he stalked me, found out where I worked, and cost me my entire internship by barging in?"

"Or you could've just said your boss was a perv, and you quit."

"He wasn't a perv."

"I'm a guy. I can tell."

Wow, way to dig at an entire gender's ability to perceive danger.

You shook your head, rubbing your forehead. "What is your problem, Nate?"

"I care too much."

You laughed loudly at that, and he looked too tired to even be mad. "I just don't like the thought of you driving home alone at night, okay? Simple as that."

"Then don't think the thought."

"You're staying."

"Like hell I am."

He groaned, putting his phone back down and rubbing his face as he walked towards the front of the bed - towards you. "Why not?"

"Because I don't want to. Because my family-"

He rolled his eyes, reaching into your pocket and grabbing both your wrists to keep you from stopping him as he scrolled through your contacts - god, you had to get a fucking passcode.

"Maddy- no fucking way.", he mumbled, his thumb racing across the screen. "Cassie- one of Maddy's minions, so no- oh. Who's Lex?"

"Alexis."

"Oh, Alexis Howard? Lexi? She'll cover for you, right?"

"Not without telling Cassie. Now give me back my phone!"

"She won't tell Cassie. How's this? 'Lex, tell my family I'm sleeping over at yours, ok? Love you, xoxo!'", he read out, his voice attempting to mimic yours.

"Is that what you think girls talk like?"

"Yeah, with a scary amount of emojis."

"Misogynist."

"Badge of honour, baby. I'm sure Lexi, one of your best gal pals will cover for you."

Yes, of course, but that was besides the point.

"That's not the point-"

"The point is that you don't feel safe enough to fall asleep around me."

"What?"

"That hurts, sweetie."

"You know what else hurts?", you spat, pointing at the band-aid at your temple.

"It'll heal." He was still refusing to apologize.

════════════════════ ⋆ ♟️ ⋆ ══════════════════

"Smash or pass, uh... McKay."

You almost laughed right then and there. "Smash."

"Really?"

You looked up at his ceiling, imagining him up on the bed, judging your smashability-scale.

"Yeah, why not?"

"You could never do it, you know? Realistically. You're not his type."

"Shut up. Smash or pass... Kat."

"Pass. Hard. Pass."

"Why?"

"I should say it's because she's close to Maddy, but you and I both know the real reason is 'cause she's so fucking ugly that-"

"Alright, shut up."

"See, this is the problem with you girls. Just agree. She's ugly."

"I don't think anyone's ugly. I think it's all action-based."

"God, then you must think I'm hideous."

He scoffed at the silence that followed. "Ouch."

"I don't think you're hideous, Nate. Just extremely unattractive."

"Superlatives, really? Y'know, whatever, I deserve it. Uh... smash or pass, Shane."

"Uh... pass."

"Why?" The glee in his voice was evident and mildly amusing.

"He cussed me out after I said the date wasn't going well."

The laughter that escaped Nate seemed to go on for hours on end. "In the middle of the restaurant?!"

"We weren't in a restaurant."

"Where were you guys?"

"He took me to a club or something."

Nate's face came into your peripheral view as he peered over the edge of the bed to face you. "On a first date."

You nodded. "Yup."

"The guy's both a fucking tool and a miserable little cunt. Anything other than a restaurant is fucking unacceptable for a first date."

"I know, even a bowling alley's fine, but a club is stupid, right? I mean, like, at the very least a café."

He nodded, his mouth curling down slightly. "Yeah, at least. Bare minimum."

It was uncomfortable, him looking down at you with pity the same night that his father had embarrassed him and cussed him out. Wasn't right. "Well, whatever. Smash or pass, uh... Rue."

"Rue Bennett? We got history, so, uh, I dunno."

"History?"

"A miscommunication during prom.", he told you, shrugging, but it was clearly something much more serious. "She's hot when she's off the drugs, I guess."

You rolled your eyes and he smiled.

"Hey, Y/N?" He didn't move back to his pillow, instead letting his arms dangle off the edge of the bed as he reached and toyed with a strand of your hair, glancing down at you. "I'll leave you alone after tonight, okay?"

"What?"

"Like, I- tonight? It was... bad. And I'm... I guess what I'm trying to say is, I'm, I'm sorry. If you just, y'know, fist-bump me before every game, we'll be good. Okay? I won't bother you outside of that."

See, he said this, but his thumb kept returning to your lower lip every two seconds. You'd be a fool not to take this deal. But you'd be a liar if you said you remembered anything about life before Nate.

"Okay."

"You should get to sleep. It's two."

"What will you do?"

"Try to sleep.", he mumbled, his eyes moving away from you and towards the glass, which lay several feet away from you, on your left - almost like it was trying to reach your heart.

Your eyes followed his, and you sighed. "For the record, I don't want to fuck your dad."

"Yeah. I got that now."

"You gotta stop drinking, man."

He chuckled, nodding. "No. But thanks for the concern." Rolling back over, he left you staring at the ceiling once more, as if there were clues there as to the enigma that was Nate Jacobs.

════════════════════ ⋆ ♟️ ⋆ ══════════════════

When you'd pulled up to your driveway the next morning - Sunday - it hit you that you were free of Nate forever. Last night, you'd have probably not known how to feel about that. This morning? Fucking elated.

You didn't even have to draw out a map, or take a single moment to think it over - every single problem in your life over the last month could be traced to him.

So fucking yay. Good riddance.

And the next day, Monday, you realized something.

School had never been so fucking fun.

Your classes started making more sense, seeing as you no longer had to look over your shoulder for some motherfucker who'd slit his own throat if you didn't go where he wanted. Fucking yay.

No, seriously. That's it. We're done here. No more Nate. End of story.

...

Ha.

So gullible.

----

Nights after Nate had always been the hardest.

Because you always found yourself losing your sanity and you knew that the only person who could even remotely get your mind off it was Nate himself.

Maybe that was his allure.

Hurting you then comforting you.

Making you cry then wiping the tears away.

But that night, he wasn't there with a blunt or tequila. Hell, you'd have even taken the gun. And you should've been ecstatic that he'd finally left you the hell alone, but at this point you had no clue what you were supposed to be feeling.

The only thing you could do was block him. Show him how mad you were. In your past experience, that didn't really matter to him, but you were running out of options.

And you probably shouldn't have done that, because you might have gotten a heads up about Tuesday.

════════════════════ ⋆ ♟️ ⋆ ══════════════════

You should've had your guard up as soon as you saw Nate walk into the school library that Tuesday afternoon, his eyes somehow darker than when he'd asked you to your face, no less, if you wanted to bang his father. You had no clue whether you had to hide or just keep doing what you did.

Flight or flight was fucking useless.

But your guard wasn't up, at least not immediately, because it was Nate. Because he may terrify you and almost kill you, but he'd never hurt you, because he just... worked differently. Things that may make someone psychopathic, he thought were normal. No biggie.

You'd be lying if you said you weren't secretly hoping he'd come back to further provoke you, because not-being-mad at him was kind of a grey area for you. It wasn't your usual state of being.

The moment your guard went up, though, was when Aaron walked in behind him. Hands in his pockets. Did he have a knife in there? Money? Or would he just flip you off?

You didn't want to find out, but it also didn't seem like you had much of a choice.

[treedaddymcpuffpuff]

Excessive Force : Tom Ludlow x Fem Nurse Reader (COLLAB W/ THE INCREDIBLE @johnwickb1tsch) - Chapter One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine Ten Eleven Twelve Thirteen Fourteen Fifteen Sixteen Seventeen Eighteen Nineteen

TW: noncon, angst, trauma, PTSD, don’t read this if you like hot doctors named Julian (he was probably an actual sweetheart in canon, but we decided to flip that around in this, so read with that in mind)

You really should have foreseen it, before letting yourself hang out alone in the breakroom. But you are tired–exhausted, actually, and you can only blame so much on the work at hand.

Tom fucking Ludlow.

You find yourself grinning like an idiot at your sandwich–which is exactly how Dr. Julian Mercer finds you, of course. You don’t even fucking hear him approach. He just appears at your side like a ghost, and you nearly jump out of your skin as he says in a low voice, “Y/n.”

“Jesus Christ,” you wheeze, clutching your chest. “Julian…”

“Maybe Doctor would be more appropriate.” It probably would, but you’re not sure if he’s asking for this out of the cold indifference his tone suggests–or that other little extra meaning it has for the two of you.

“Okay, Doctor Mercer. Creep around like a fucking ghost much?”

“No. You were just distracted.”

You blow air between your teeth. You really don’t want to fight with this man right now, but it feels like he’s spoiling for something. “What do you want?”

He takes your hands in his, running gentle fingers over marks on your wrists that have now mostly faded. You hate to admit it–but this careful, questing touch sends a thrill across your skin. “The animal,” he growls under his breath. “Clearly no clue as to what he was doing.”

Hoo boy, was he wrong about that.

“Did you have a safeword at least?”

“No…?”

“Fucking amateur.” 

You don’t know how to tell him, that rendering sex absolutely clinical with boundaries and safewords beforehand just doesn’t do it for you. You just…trusted Tom not to hurt you. And he didn’t. 

“Julian…”

“Doctor.”

“Yeah, that. What do you think you’re doing?” You try to pull your hands away, but he holds on, just firm enough to keep you. Despite what Tom likes to taunt, Julian is not little, or weak.

The look in his eyes is that of a man drowning.

“Losing my mind?”

“You are being ridiculous. You have got to let it go.”

“I’m trying, but I can’t stop thinking about you.”

This is absurd. Men do not lose their shit over you. They use you, then throw you away at their first convenience. You give a fat sigh that you hope conveys your annoyance. 

“Julian, have you seen the women that walk around this hospital? Better, Have you seen the women in your BDSM club? Have you never thought of trying one of those girls out? I mean, they are into the same stuff.” 

His thumb presses on the dark marks the belt left on your wrist, making a little diffuse ache light your skin. “You are clearly into BDSM, y/n. Just the unsafe way of doing it, I suppose.” 

Okay, now he’s just plain pissing you off. Once again, a man insinuating that you’re too stupid and naive to advocate for yourself. Too weak to take initiative, too gullible to know that you have to. You wrench your hand back from him, and he glares after it like it called him a dirty name. “Are you kidding me?” You say, not hiding the bite of your words, “and setting people on fire is just so safe, right? Whipping someone’s feet is the safest thing you can do in sex, yep, boy howdy, you’re absolutely right, Julian. How stupid of me.” 

Your aim is to hurt him with your words, although now you’re regretting it when he looks back at you with those big, brown, sad orbs. Fuck, you can just never win with this man and his multiple personalities. He runs a hand through his hair. “You’re with him, then?” 

“I’m…” you take a breath and try to step outside of yourself for a minute and view the situation objectively, just like you learned to do in therapy, and what you’re seeing is a misguided man who doesn’t know he can bag any freaky woman he wants become overly attached to you because he was vulnerable with you that one time. “I’m not.” How do you word it without sounding pathetic? “I’m not that great of a catch. I promise you there is a much better person out there for you.” 

“I don’t think so,” he says quietly, intensely, sending a shudder through you that freezes and burns all at once. “Do you love him?” 

“What?” You ask incredulously. “I just met him.”

“Well, then, I still have a chance.” 

Your fist clenches unconsciously, ready for a fight. Maybe a metaphorical fight, but a fight nonetheless. “No,” you tell him, swallowing your nice, “you don’t, Julian.” 

“What if…I promised not to punish you?”

This does make you pause, and you swear, not because you’re actually considering it, but because you are surprised he would even think to compromise his needs, for you. 

It’s a heady feeling, if not entirely misplaced.

“No,” you answer, much too late. “No, no, nope.”

“I can see you’re intrigued.”

“No, I’m…flabbergasted. It wouldn’t be any fun for you.”

He looks you up and down, blatantly checking you out. You swear you will never get used to that look in a man’s eyes, trained on you. “I wouldn’t say that.” Then his attention turns back to your wrists, tracing the marks Tom’s belt left again with fascination. “Just let me…do this to you. God, the things I would do to you.” He inches closer as he says this, until before you know it you are standing nearly chest to chest, and your heart is beating at a mile a minute.

You have to try twice, before you find your voice. “That’s exactly what scares me about you, Julian.”

He dares to touch you, turning your face up to his with his palm on your jaw. “That you might like it, y/n?”

You take a deep breath, and you step back, away from Julian. Away from your sandwich too, unfortunately. But you guess you’re going to have to write it off. Or circle back later. You have no further clever quips to offer Dr. Julian Mercer. For lack of a better word–you flee.

At the nurses’ station a bright and cheery reminder of someone else’s devotion awaits you. A happy bouquet of sunflowers, with a simple card that reads, Dorothy, Thinking about you. Glad you’re not in Kansas anymore -T It is just the boost to morale you need, after your chilling little interlude with Julian.

However, you don’t get to take them home. They disappear while you are working, and you think you know who is to blame for the childish act of revenge. Rather than letting it drop, you decide to prove to Julian that you have boundaries and he can’t just push you around like this. 

You catch him as he’s about to get into his car, and get Deja Vu from the scenario. The parking garage isn’t well lit, empty of other humans, and damp with oppressive LA heat. Maybe it’s not the best place to confront a man, but you never claimed to be a complete genius. And, now that you’re here…

“Julian, do you know where my sunflowers went? From the desk? Tom got them for me.”

He looks down at you with dark eyes. “Fresh flowers are a health code violation. I had to dispose of them.” 

And you thought Tom could make you livid; Julian is here proving that he can spike your anger from a two to a ten in one simple sentence. “And what about the flowers you got me that stayed at the desk? Huh? Those were fine, right?”

He shrugs. “No.” 

“So, what the fuck?” You’re raising your voice, feeling the heat of anger singing through the blood in your body like a vengeful choir. Your fist clenches to actually punch him—God, you want to. 

“I’ll buy you more flowers,” he says, as if that’s going to fix the problem. 

“I don’t want your flowers,” you growl, “I don’t want you, Julian!” 

Before you know what’s happening, he has you gripped up in his hands and pressed against the door of his car, mouth on your own, bullying inside to suck and bite and bruise. You try to push and kick and thrash against him, but his long body is pressed firmly into yours, holding you steady against warm metal. His blunt fingers dig into the flesh of your upper arms and make you gasp, which allows him further entrance into your mouth.

You can’t fucking breathe with him latched onto you like this, and your frantic hands reach to tear at his scrubs, his belt, his skin. He pulls away, blessedly, panting and wild eyed, and you immediately start in on him. “Get the fuck off me, Julian.” You writhe in short, shallow breaths, lungs crushed by his heavy torso and unable to entirely fill. 

“This is what you want,” he says, ignoring your demand. “You want someone to take advantage of you. Make you, force you. And if that’s what you need, that’s what I can give.”

“I don’t want that,” you reply. “I want the opposite of that! Get off me! I will scream.” 

His mouth edges into a terrifying smile. “You think anyone’s going to hear you?” He asks, looking around the empty parking garage. “You think anyone’s going to save you if I decide to take you home for a few days and do terrible things to you?” He grabs your chin, fingers spanning the entire bottom, reminding you of the size difference and making you whimper in pain. He presses his lips against the shell of your ear. “Make you regret having nerve endings…” 

Your whole body is shaking violently with adrenalized fear. Sweet Doctor Julian is a fucking wolf in sheep’s clothing, and he’s hungry for your flesh and blood. You should have known. You should have seen this coming. Shouldn’t you be an expert on narcissists and abusers by now? Shouldn’t you have been smarter? Shouldn’t you do the smart thing now and convince him to let you go?

“Please, Julian.” Disgust bubbles in your gut, reacting vehemently to the pathetic, pleading voice that leaves your mouth. “Please don’t.” 

He pulls your chin up a little higher. “You can beg prettier than that.” 

“Please, Doctor.” You swallow the raging hatred you have for yourself. “Please don’t hurt me. I’ll be a good girl.” 

He hums and kisses you temple, lips ghosting into your hairline as he inhales your shampoo choice. “You’re lucky I don’t put you on your knees right here and make you choke on my cock for a while, pumpkin.” 

“Please.” You give him your best impression of a beaten dog with wide, owl eyes, hoping you can somehow get out of this without actually getting hurt. All you can think of is Tom; how you wish he was here to beat the fuck out of Julian, how you should have let him beat the fuck out of Julian on your doorstep. 

His hand moves down, pressing softly into the front of your throat, just enough to make it uncomfortable. “It’s refreshing to see something so wild become so tame with fear.” Fear is an understatement. Pure panicking terror is what consumes you. Bred from C-PTSD and Julian’s heavy, big hand on your throat. You’ve been here before, small and terrified under a man with power… And, suddenly, you’re her again, that little girl trembling and cowering and cornered. You don’t know that you’re crying until a little tear tickles down your cheek. 

He kisses that saltwater trail, peeks his tongue out to taste your sad desperation and shivers against you. “You taste delicious.” 

Fucking Hannibal Lector, Psycho, serial killer. How did you not see it? How? 

It occurs to you that Tom saw it, saw straight through the mask, to the beast beneath Julian Mercer’s carefully constructed facade, all along. He’d warned you, but like the stubborn little idiot you are, you didn’t listen. 

Tom. Somehow it’s the thought of him, how he looks at you like you are precious, like you’re not stupid, like you are something worth saving, that breaks your thought pattern, your desire to just freeze and hope this man with his hand on your throat isn’t going to hurt you, hope that the bad thing goes away if you’re still enough, small enough, don’t draw attention to yourself. You think on what Tom would have you do.

You hear Ludlow’s voice, plain as day, cutting through the fear: c’mon, you have just enough room to fuck him up. 

You drive your knee as absolutely hard as you can into Dr. Julian Mercer’s gonads. 

The good doctor crumbles with a groan that sounds like his soul leaving his body. 

You run. On your shaking legs as fast as you can to your car, barely able to unlock the door with your trembling hands trying to manipulate your keys in the lock. You feel like you’re in a horror film. Instead of being the one yelling at the screen, Don’t run up the stairs, stupid!—you are the stupid girl, and you have so much sympathy for the girl being chased by the Big Bad with a knife and having no idea what to do with your hands. 

No. You are not dying today. You are not letting this monster win today. You are not fodder. You are Final Girl material, goddammit. Maybe you never believed it before, but Tom’s voice is still in your head. You can hear him ordering you what to do. Put in your key. Twist. Open. Get in. Lock the door. 

 You manage all this somehow, just before Juian slams against your window, his face a mask of fury. “Open the door, y/n.” 

Maybe still channeling Tom, and maybe acting completely on your own now, you press your middle finger against the window for him before starting your engine and peeling away. He barely manages to stumble back in time to save his toes from getting crushed by your racing tires. 

[noyzinerd]

Ohmygodohmygodohmygod 😭 @raisesomehale tagged me for an excerpt-writing-thing! This is my first time getting tagged for this kind of thing, thanks so much! Excerpt from my WIP, Pseudology, where the boys have to face their inner demons in the forms of dark versions of each other. Enjoy!

"Don't tell me you're honestly surprised you're here." Nega-Derek sneered. "You always talk about how unfair it is to be dragged into all the shit that happens to you, about how you're always the first to be taken or hospitalized or the one to lose the most friends. Oh, boo-hoo. Always the victim, aren't you Stiles? Never stopping to wonder why so many things happen to you when you can never leave anything well enough alone. It's never your fault Scott follows all of your whims, right? That's on him for getting himself left out in the woods. You weren't the one who released the Nogitsune, so why would it be your fault poor Allison and all those people died? Letting the Nogitsune in had nothing to do with what happened, right?"

"Please…" The 'don't' died on his lips as the thing circled around Stiles, those colorless eyes piercing deeply into his own.

The spirit tutted in mock disappointment. "And what about me, Stiles? You've found a way to manipulate me into loving you just like you did Lydia. Now here I am, willing to die for you in your ridiculous ocean of lies and secrets. Are you going to get bored and leave me too? When is that trophy of catching the most sought-after specimen going to lose its charm and have you kicking me out on the street, broken and empty? Do I deserve it too, just like Lydia? She ignored you for years and used you to get at someone who hurt her. Apparently, that's all the reason in the world to get back at her, make her suffer for making you feel this way. She was your claim, your property, to treat however you wanted because her actions displeased you. It made you want to watch her cry. It made you want to insert yourself into her life and to make her yours even if you had to drag her in, kicking and screaming. Am I just another Lydia to you? Am I here because you like me or am I here for you to punish for bullying you? Is that what you want? To see me cry over you? Does it make you feel powerful having so much control over me? Does it flatter your ego to know that the big, bad, strong, former-Alpha Derek Hale, the Derek Hale, is so helpless to your charm that he can't even go a single day without thinking about you? Do you even know what I am to you?"

Stiles had nowhere else to back up. His feet were frozen. The words kept gnawing at his brain, twisting in his chest like a noose around his heart. Covering his ears hadn't helped. The sound of that too-familiar, but too-wrong voice was infesting his ears in a way that rang in his mind rather than his ears, starting inward and echoing out like the words were coming from his very soul. There was nothing he could say. He couldn't fight the words.

Especially since he knew they were all true.

"Ha! You don't even know!" Nega-Derek practically squealed delightedly. "Chatty Cathy Stiles suddenly with nothing to say. Well, isn't that just a rare sight! Finally ran out of bullshit to spew from that poisonous little goblin mouth, I see. That's fine. I have enough to talk about for the both of us," the thing chirped happily.

Sorry, I've never done this before so I'm terrible at tagging, especially since I don't know how many of you are actually writers. Also, am I supposed to just tag mutuals or just anyone? 😰I don't actually have a lot of mutuals, so I guess whoever else out there feels like writing, feel free to say I tagged you (no one's going to double check that shit 🤣). Literally no pressure tags: @cursedtruth, @gynnnicsworld, @grimmypuff, @haleshomeforthederanged, @princecharmingwinks, @raisesomehale

[jpitha]

Humans Solve Problems With Explosions

Frank and Mel'iarr are sitting together in the common area of the Starbase, chatting. They have been fast friends ever since they were paired together on the Starbase Fire Brigade. Mel was fascinated about humans, and Frank was willing to indulge him when he asked questions... most of the time.

Mel'iarr puts down his tea. "Frank, the Humans have been in space a long time right?"

Frank nods and sips his cocoa. "That's what they tell us in school."

"So that means you've probably tried just about every method of propulsion in space, yeah?"

"Actually, yes! This was one of my favorite topics as a kid. I must have absorbed everything I could find about it."

"Oh, so you could talk to me about your historical propulsion systems! Do you mind if we talk about them?"

Frank looks at his friend, surprised. "I'd love to, but why?"

"To settle a bet." Mel'iarr picks up his chamomile tea and glances at it. With a flick of his ears - like a shrug - he tosses his tea back, finishing it. "You didn't jump to thrusters immediately and I know humans can be really inventive, so I assume you had some unusual ideas you tried out."

"Hmm. Okay, how about the Nuclear Salt Water Rocket?"

Mel'iarr chokes on his tea. Frank jumps up and pats his back. Mel holds up a hand and sputters. "The what?"

"Oh yeah, it's a great one! Take nuclear fuel, dissolve it in water, and then concentrate it to just under criticality - that's the point where fission takes place - and then squirt it into a chamber where it can achieve criticality and bam! Fission. Now, shoot that now superheated steam and heat from the reaction out the back, and you're making thrust."

Unconsciously, Mel'iarr leans back in his chair. "But, that's just sounds like a nuclear bomb that-"

"-That's going off all the time out the back yeah. Worked really well." As he talks, Frank becomes more animated. He's gesturing and his eyes are shining. Mel'iarr's tail flicks worriedly. "It was tough to get the pipes lined up correctly to not cause an early criticality incident, but we figured that out - mostly - before we started using them. Only a few blew up, but when they did, hoo boy. You could see it practically everywhere in the system."

Mel'iarr ears flatten. "Wow. Um, okay. That was a bit more... intense than I figured. Do you have another one that's less..." He thought for a moment. "Insane?"

Frank looks off into the middle distance. "Oh! I know one! It's an old one, but I always liked imaging using it. It's so old that it predates us leaving Earth entirely. An Orion Engine."

Mel'iarr relaxes. "That doesn't sound so-"

Franks gesturing nearly knocks over his cocoa. "I love this one, it's so simple and elegant. You just make hundreds and hundreds of small nuclear bombs, shoot them out the back one at a time, detonate them, and ride the pressure wave forward and repeat!"

Mel'iarr's fur poofs out angrily and his ears flick forward. "No. You're lying. You're just making that up."

"I'm not! Look!" Frank takes a moment to search on his pad, and brings up an archive video to show Mel.

While they're talking, Mel'iarr's other human friend, James walks by. James and Mel'iarr work together in Environmental Processing. With the Starbase's low population, Frank knows him too, but they're not especially good friends. Mel'iarr gestures to the human. "James! You have to help me!"

James looks down and the small, worried K'laxi. "Of course Mel, what is it? What's wrong?"

"Pen'men said that I couldn't find a problem that humans don't solve with explosions. I was speaking with Frank - from the Fire Brigade - and he started describing old human space propulsion systems that make me think that humans solve every problem with explosions."

James raised an eyebrow. "I mean space propulsion is by definition explosion based. That's a wild place to start, Mel. But okay, we can think of something." As they're thinking, Kerry walks by. She works in the infirmary and plays pickleball with James. "Kerry! Give me a problem that we don't solve with an explosion."

"Uh, a fire." Kerry offers.

Mel'iarr shakes his head sadly. "No, you've used explosions to blast oxidizer away from a fire, putting it out."

Kerry blinks, impressed. "Woah, neat! Hmm. cooking?"

Mel'iarr's ears droop. "There's a ancestors cursed grain that explodes when you cook it!"

"Oh popcorn, right." James sits down next to Frank and Mel and gestures for Kerry to join them.

"Oh! I've got one. Negotiation! Frank crosses his arms and looks satisfied.

Mel'iarr gives him a look. "I thought of that. What about intimidating the other side with an explosive based show of force?"

"Damn! I thought I had it there. Okay okay...." Frank picks up his cocoa, long gone cold, and takes a sip.

James casts his head around the room. "What about welding?"

"Welding?"

"Yeah, that's done with heat and electricity, but not explosions."

"I'm sorry James, I couldn't help overhearing." The Starbase AI cuts in "But humans have welded with explosions. It's a known method in welding two dissimilar metals in extreme environments."

Frank sits up and looks over at the Starbase interface screen. "Woah, really? That's so cool!"

"Frank, focus please." Mel'iarr says. "We're looking for non-explosive solutions."

"What about medical issues?" Kerry says. "There can't be a lot of call for explosions there."

Frank nods. "Hmm, now we might be onto something. What do you think Starbase?"

"Searching."

A moment goes by and Mel'iarr allows himself a moment's hope that he has finally found a solution that doesn't involve explosions.

"Results found. Mel'iarr, the humans use Nitroglycerin - an explosive - to treat heart disease."

All of Mel'iarr's fur poofs out in surprise. "THEY DO WHAT?"

"It helps prevent chest pains as a result of heart disease according to my records."

Kerry holds up her hands. "Wait. Wait wait wait. If we're counting nitroglycerins then we have to count electricity which can be generated by explosions."

"How in the name of my Ancestors do you generate electricity from explosions? Mel'iarr slumps back into his chair, defeated.

"We don't as much now, but electricity is generated from spinning a magnetic field, right? We had reciprocating engines that worked off of the explosion of refined hydrocarbons for hundreds of years."

James looks at Mel and narrows his eyes. "How did you do it at first Mel? You can't tell me you never developed reciprocating engines."

Mel'iarr Looks up at James. "No, we did, but they're different, they use temperature differential. Starbase, what's the human word for them?"

"Stirling engines, Mel'iarr. Humans did develop them, but they decided that the exploding way was preferable."

Mel'iarr puts his head in his hands. "I don't know what's worse! That you have an exploding solution to every problem or that you both think they're all really neat!

"I can't help it Mel'iarr, explosions are cool." James looks kindly at his friend.

Kerry agrees. "It's probably why it's used as a solution so often."

After the evening meal on that same day, Mel'iarr walks over to Pen'men while she's on her shift in Traffic Control, and silently hands her some currency.

Pen'men looks up from her console and stares at Mel'iarr.

Mel'iarr shakes his head. "You were right. They solve every problem with explosions."

"Told you."

[shiraishi--kanade]

Point A: Taiga never actually wanted to stop VBS from pursuing Rad Weekend.

Point B: Taiga massively lost the idgaf war with himself with that one.

I promised I would not be LUtF posting but it seems I'll end up LUtF posting anyway. Oh well, here's a short-ish one

Taiga is one fascinating fucker of a character, but I feel what most people get wrong about him is that he never actually went into LUtF with genuine malice.

Most importantly, Taiga is a character who vastly prefers to speak with his actions rather than words; this is somewhat canon and is referenced in On Your Feet!:

With that in mind, you have to consider the things Taiga did for VBS (+ team) prior to LUtF. And it's actually... More than anyone else aside from maybe Ken.

1. Probably the most important one, letting them see COL venue (Legend Still Vivid)

This is both a precious memory for Akito and An and an important experience for Touya and Kohane, who have not been there before. He does this entirely on a whim by Kohane's request, but it's important to see that he is genuinely touched by Kohane's resolve, as well.

(It's heaving implied that literally the only people who would be able to give VBS that opportunity would be Taiga and Ken, but Ken was at that point still massively hitting the brakes on how much he wanted to involve himself into the mess that would later become LUtF - although we can see him starting to crack, as well)

2. Giving actual, genuinely good advice to Kohane that pointed VBS in the direction of "you need to connect with people of the town to be able to surpass RW" (Kick it up a notch)

Taiga and Kohane's mentorship relationship were genuine to some degree; even before that, in Awakening Beat, Taiga also gives Kohane the advice she needed.

Bonus point: he also gave this same advice to Arata, a kid he barely knows (Power of Unity)

This is genuine and valid advice; you can see how it ties into Nagi's story and how RW came to be. Why would Taiga be giving out free tips if he was opposed to anyone trying to surpass RW? Let's mark that down for later.

3. Helping out Akito as well (Fina a Way Out). Whether is intentional or not is up for debate, but it's important that it took Taiga to talk to Akito for him to finally find inner peace.

While he's at it, Taiga gives almost the same, if not more, amount of support to VBS. So why?

Because of VBS' third event, RISE. it's a pivotal moment for their story, and it changed a lot of things... But most notably, it showed Taiga that they are serious.

Keep in mind that Taiga never entertained Nagi's idea to pass their dream on to the next generation in the first place. It was something Nagi wanted, and what Ken wanted to see through, but not Taiga (Light up the Fire, Episode 7)

Taiga: (...Nagi. This isn't for you.)

Shortly after:

Taiga: after everything, no matter what you say to me, my resolve won't change.

Taiga: no matter what, I will make our music the best in the world.

Taiga: this if for nobody's sake - I'm doing this for myself.

Through the event, Taiga is strongly against the idea of giving up on their dream - on his dream. While he doesn't appear to harbor any grudge towards Ken in particular, he is very unhappy - and is downright cynical - about the idea of someone following in their footsteps.

So for the most of his presence in the story, what he does is just entertain the idea of VBS actually getting on that level. He's tentatively curious, but he's not exactly emotionally invested in it. He's taking a "wait and see" approach towards VBS as a team, nudging them on, but without any particular serious intend behind his actions - he doesn't believe they're strong or willful enough.

And hoo boy he waited and saw.

After the absolute hell VBS brought up at Crawl Green and most of the audience seeing Nagi in Kohane (basically confirming his suspicions), Taiga realised that oh shit, those kids are actually doing it... Which meant it was about for him to show them what they're actually getting into.

(please refer to the first picture again. I'm working with limitations here)

This isn't an attempt to kick them down as much to give them a reality check. Remember, for the entirety of their 3-4 rotations, VBS have been pacing in circles trying to figure out why they host an even after an event and basically achieve nothing. Moving forward, yes, but they still don't understand why the RW was the way it was, and Taiga wands to give them the answer, because they would never progress themselves without it.

Which is: a) Nagi's story 2) the skill difference between VBS and Radder. Caucasian Destination aside. Please suspend your disbelief for a moment. This is a shounen anime about rap. Still with me? Okay, moving on.

But why a battle?

Well, aside from him being a calloused old bastard who also likes to scratch his ego, because he knows that the harder VBS lose, the higher they rise.

Don't get me wrong, he's downright cruel to Kotarou and antagonistic towards the rest of them and talks a lot of shit, but all of it is to make VBS hit the ground harder and test their resolve.

Because losing and then getting back on top is how VBS thrive - their frustration from losing is what drives them to work harder. This is part of Vivid Street's battle culture, as well; they kind of weed out the "weak", depending on how the loser react, and good sportsmanship is encouraged - so trying to "get back at ya" after losing is entirely normal and a part of the culture Taiga and VBS both were practically raised in.

He's seen the way Akito behaved after battling Shephard, and he knows An well enough to know she's an extremely sore loser and will always push herself to work even harder. It's not hard for him to deduce the rest of the team will react similarly. He simply sees them losing, and losing in that way, as a necessity for them to realise their limits and find strength to move forward. And they do.

( ^ On your feet. Make no mistake, this is An's "I'm being a little shit right now" face. The "I'm about to rub your fur entirely the wrong way and enjoy it" expression if you will).

The entire 3rd episode was an - callous and assholey, yes - attempt by Taiga to rile VBS up enough so that they want to challenge him again, now with the whe context behind the story and what will it take of them. It was never, at least, not intentionally, attempt to stop them - Taiga is putting his whole trust in VBS as the only ones he respects enough to actually show the them the wall they're claiming to challenge, and he fully believes that when he does, they'll just come back stronger for it.

Which is why, as they call him out and threaten to go beyond his dream, to be even better than he is, he is smiling.

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

I have the smallest crumb of a theory. But what if howdy is mean to Latter because he’s self-conscious of being the only caterpillar (and repressed) and takes it out on his brother as a consequence. Because social expectations at the time gave him an excuse to do so?

no. ok. hoo boy. Allow Me To Be Insane Over The Most Prominent Thought I've Had Since Seeing The Update (about howdy)

i will try to be as eloquent and articulate as possible. ahem:

THAT FRUITY ASS CATERPILLAR IS REPRESSED AS FUCK, ARE YOU KIDDING ME??? DID YOU SEE THAT SHIT?? MY GOD. HOMEBOY HAS ISSUES STACKED ON ISSUES. GET HIM SOME THERAPY.

ok. ok ok ok. Now allow me to be articulate and eloquent

so obviously Howdy is almost certainly queer in the men-loving flavor. if i'm wrong about this my confidence will never recover. But I'm Willing To Take That Chance. so he's definitely queer, right? his.. well his everything points to it, but the final nail in the coffin are his rainbow suspenders from the group Homewarming artwork from Eddie's prolonged breakdown.

but this update i think showed us deeper into that part of him. and i take the shipping goggles off for genuine analysis, so when i say this i believe that there is Serious Evidence and seems Genuinely Plausible - if Howdy doesn't have feelings for Barnaby, i'll eat my cat.

the above is important to say because it Directly ties in to how Howdy treats Latter AND Eddie.

so. Howdy is likely gay or bi, what have you. i'm guessing gay. he obviously has feelings for Barnaby. SO WHAT I'M SAYING IS that i don't think Howdy treats Latter the way he does because of the caterpillar thing, I think Howdy treats Latter the way he does because Latter is genuine and Howdy is not.

what does this have to do with Eddie? well. look at Latter and Eddie in relation to each other. they're both... how do i say... Open. and not - not effeminate, but yes, for lack of of a better word, effeminate. just enough to make one go "huh." and Howdy treats them the same way - dismissive, apathetic, one could even say avoidant.

i wouldn't be shocked if Howdy picked up on their queerness (and if Latter isn't queer, his comfort with himself / his behavior & interests) and is on the defensive about it - likely subconsciously.

and with Latter specifically. Howdy could have also picked up on the way his other family members treat him if they're all also dismissive - as Seeya seems to be as well. i mean, it fits right in line with the time period! homophobia - internalized in Howdy's case (again, most likely). the blatant favoritism, the dismissive nature, it all adds up. even if no one outright knows, that subconscious recognition (or outright suspicion!) will do this

i mean, Latter makes me think of two things. 1) being the only queer kid in a family (especially large). 2) being a middle child. there was a third but i forgor. it felt important! it's gone now! anyway it's also Super telling comparing how Howdy treats Latter (emotional, earnest, open) to how he treats Beeya (oozing stereotypical masculinity)

tl;dr so i don't think it's really "expectations giving Howdy an excuse" as it is "subconscious / internalized homophobia causes Howdy to act the way he does"

as always, take all this with a Hefty grain of salt!

[anotherpjofan]

It always bugs me how Percy is so dependent on Annabeth for plans in HOO, I mean this is the boy that orchestrated a lot of the defense during the Battle for Manhattan! Like he was leading that battle! And it worked - it kept the monsters out of Manhattan/the Empire State Building long enough for reinforcements to show up (Party Ponies) and with the addition of Party Ponies, able to force Kronos to shift his barrier to a far smaller area! Like that is incredible! Percy is a brilliant strategist and it's a pity that RR reduced him down to powerful/comedic in the series, especially when Annabeth is present.

I know the Doylian reason for this is because for some reason RR overpowered the 5 new characters to the series and needed Annabeth to be equal to them in some way, so she became the only leader, the only strategist and the only one capable of it. And like there was no reason for them to be as powerful as they were? Like Jason, Hazel. Fine. They're Big Three Kids. Frank? He's powerful yes, but his abilities are greatly hampered by the fact that he literally holds his life in his hands, or rather in his pocket. But Leo and Piper? There should be no reason for them to be nearly as powerful as they are in the books. But if RR wanted all 5 kids to have powers, then he could have at least tried to balance Annabeth out. Like instead of giving Hazel Mist powers, when she has her own earth powers which would have been fascinating to see in the final battle of HOH, give it to Annabeth. Have her learn the Mist instead and use it to help her against Arachne. Like I understand the desire to have Annabeth to defeat Arachne using wisdom and logic, but having the Mist to help would definitely make it interesting.

This would be such a good premise for an AU????? hello???? cause we know that Thalia actually learned to manipulate the mist so she could have thought Annabeth and Annabeth being Annabeth obviously wouldn’t be satisfied with the basics and would have learned all that she could -

but yeah rick for sure fumbled and realised he overpowered percy (hence removal of the achilles curse) and needed some way to make sure the others were on the same level and something I noticed early on is that Percy and Annabeth are equals as in for every strategy that Annabeth comes up with Percy comes up with one that saves all of their assesses too. the only difference is that percy’s opinion is biased and he dumbs it down cause he doesn’t think highly of himself but from an outsiders perspective it’s clearly calculated yknow. like we see it as early as in book with where he bribes charon and manipulates crusty into his own torture device again this isn’t taking anything away from annabeth but I just need to let it be known that annabeth would never be with someone who she thinks is stupid like cmon girl would go crazy in a day like she genuinely respects percy and trusts his crazy plans

that being said firm believer of annabeth chase having powers. like yes she’s smart and all but ngl we really don’t see her explicitly showcasing it?? like other characters also have the same ability/planning abilities so where is her athena knowledge coming from?? (correct me if i’m wrong btw) but yeah rick fr did the others dirty

[iamcautiouslyoptimistic]

Deja Vu ~ Russell Adler x Female Reader

{Author's Note} This was inspired by @alypink's recent Adler render where he's leaning against a muscle car AND HOO BOY that put tons of thoughts in my head about a younger Adler before he heads off to Vietnam. Reader in this story dated him before he went off to war and they got together again after the events of the Cold War game. I probably got some timeline stuff wrong but I did my research and tried to keep it consistent lol. A horrendous sinus infection has given me a short break from school as I start some medications to clear it up so that means more time for writing! Anyway, I hope y'all enjoy this! I've got plenty of ideas for a younger Adler x reader series so expect more in the future! And let me know if you'd like to be removed or added to the tag list🫶🏻 I don't know if I managed to include everyone that I wanted to so please let me know! AND YES I'm using a Robert Redford gif because they're basically the same person in my eyes LOL {Tag List} @littlemissclandestine @alypink @mctvsh @adlerboi @deadbranch @a-small-writer-in-a-big-world @ghostlythots @glitterypirateduck

Russell Adler x Female Reader

❌Content Warning: none❌

~ ~ ~

1965

“When are you leaving again?” 

Adler sends you a glance through dark shades as you pass him a bucket full of water. He takes it easily, hefting it with little issue while you had struggled to lift it only moments ago. 

“In a month,” he responds and splashes the bucket’s contents across the windshield of his car. “Higher ups are gettin’ worried about the increased communist presence in Vietnam so they’re sending in some troops. I’ll be going on behalf of the CIA to do some recon and see if we can figure out what’s happening over there.”

You knew that already. He’d told you half a dozen times before but he answered you anyway. He knew how worried you were about the threat of impending war, especially when he was being sent into the midst of it with little choice to refuse. 

All you can manage is a nod as you focus on sponging down the window opposite him. He notices your silence and rounds the car, drying his palms on his already damp tank top. 

“I’ll be fine, sweetheart,” he murmurs softly as he grasps your chin and guides your face to look at him. You blink back tears and he wipes away the few that manage to escape with gentle thumbs. 

“Just gotta make sure the Soviets aren’t meddling in things,” he continues. “It shouldn’t take long.”

You nod as he caresses the curves of your cheeks. “I just want you to be careful.” 

And come back alive, you think to yourself. Come back to me. 

He leans to press a kiss to the crown of your head. “I will. Promise.”

His lips meet yours in a tender kiss, one that makes you smile and clears the mist from your eyes. 

“Now, help me finish cleaning this thing before Sims gets here. He needs to see this baby in all her glory.”

You laugh, feeling your heart lighten as Russ turns up the radio. He bobs his head to The Beach Boys song flowing through the speakers and you promise yourself to commit this moment to memory. The glint of his shades in the sunlight, the shimmer of golden hair as he pushes it off his forehead, the movement of his arms and back as he leans over the hood of his car. The image is imprinted in your mind’s eye for years to come.

~ ~ ~

1982

Adler has changed, though your memories of him have not. He’s still stubborn as a mule with an envy-inducing sense of style and a love for muscle cars. He’s older now, quieter and less open, scarred both physically and mentally after his time in Vietnam. His most recent escapade involved a former Soviet agent who he refuses to talk about so you don’t push the topic. You’re just happy he’s come back to you.

“You gonna keep staring or help me clean this thing?” Russ says with a slight smile. His shades reflect the sun the same way they did all those years ago and you hurry to his side, upping the radio’s volume on the way.

Russ likes to talk about cars and so you let him, enjoying the sound of his voice as he guides you through the inner workings of the machinery before you. He's gentle and careful with his movements, and you notice the serenity in his features. It was one of the few times he was able to relax, a brief moment where he didn't carry the world on his shoulders. You know he's not perfect, far from it, but he deserves this temporary peace and you're thankful that you're present to enjoy it with him.

“Do you know that I love you?” you ask suddenly. The comment makes Russ pause in his work, gaze lifting to yours as he straightens.

"That so?"

You giggle. "You're supposed to say it back, you know," you tease, fully aware of his tendency to play coy with this sort of thing.

He brushes stray strands of hair from your face, the pads of his fingers delicately tracing your features. He was hesitant to touch you these days, fearing you'd be disgusted by his calloused hands, but you made it a point to remind him that such things were a sign that he had survived and kept his promise to you, even if it had taken longer than either of you had anticipated.

"I love you, too," he murmurs, his voice a low whisper, as if he were afraid to release the phrase into the world where it could be taken from him.

You grin and lean to press a kiss to his scarred cheek, hearing his contented sigh as his arms settle around your waist. You promise to commit this moment to memory, just as you had countless times before, adding it to the complicated collection of images and sensations that made up Russell Adler.

[reveluving]

Simu!Ken thought— he beaches off for you after one of the Kens or Barbies makes a mean comment about you. And ofc he wins

a/n: HAHAAAAA anon, your mind!! 😭🤌🏻 I decided to make this with both (mean) Ken and Barbie, and did my own lil 'thing' here ;))) thanks, sweetie!! (open to be read as Ryan!Ken, as usual!)

warnings: fluff! (+ teaching meanies a lesson & strong language!)

» fancy reading something new? check out my full m.list!

It's one thing to genuinely get on Ken's bad side, but it's another if the rest of the Barbieland follow suit. 

Mean Barbie and Ken simultaneously arrived months after your Ken’s departure to find you, becoming the talk of the town in an instant. Though, 90% of the time, it was all for the wrong reasons. 

Mean Barbie was demeaning, having a keen interest in insulting others for their interests and even their appearances. Mean Ken was no better, laughing in the Kens' face and Alan for liking anything that was, in his words, 'too girlish'. 

Basically, they weren’t the best people to vibe with. 

While both Weird Barbie and President Barbie tried their best to be civil with the two, the former was more vocal about her distaste, always giving them the stink eye as though she knew their words only went in one ear and out the other. President Barbie was more subtle, though she made sure to drop reminders about their actions here and there.

So when the mean match overheard the cheers and excitement over the infamous Ken coming back for a visit with his sweetheart, oh, they were not having it. 

But soon, they were going to learn that their actions would, in fact, have consequences.

'Cause as the human saying goes; the more you fuck around, the more you find out.

President Barbie was there to greet you and Ken at the entrance, giving you a motherly hug before giving you a heads up and whispering in your ear about the notorious duo.

Though their behaviour wasn't nearly as bad as what you're used to in the real world, it didn't make them any less unpleasant to be around. Kudos to the Barbies and Kens (+ Midge & Allan!) for trying their best not to leave you alone with the two of them, though!

And it only took your Ken two days to do everyone a favour. 

"Hoo, boy, here we go." Mean Ken scoffed at the sight of your Ken excitedly telling you about the surfboard he oftentimes used back when his whole purpose was to be Ken, "That was the cool guy around here?" 

"Right? And I just don't see what's so special about her." His girl sneered.

"Tell me about it. Should've stayed where she came from like she was supposed to." 

The rest of the Barbies and Kens froze up. They gave Pompadour Ken a quick glance, who was now uncharacteristically quiet.

Oh no. 

Who were they to insult you for being you?  

You've also noticed the two literally talking crap about you, though you were more concerned about Ken.

"Ken," You gently stroked his face, hoping it'll ease the sudden tension in his jaw, "Hey, don't listen to them." 

"Hey, pal!" Mean Ken called out to him, "Wanna show us your lil' beach moves? Maybe tell us what's so special about your girl?" 

Ken didn't speak up. He has millions of reasons why you were extremely special to him, but he learnt from you that losing his cool would be a total win for his opposition. 

But the mean twins didn't take being ignored too kindly.

"Hey, I'm talking to you!" He barked, pushing your Ken. He nearly lost his balance, almost hitting you with the surfboard he was holding. 

It wasn't long before Ken finally lost his cool, swinging the surfboard square in Mean Ken's face. He flew away at an immense height and questionable physics, falling on his back just by the sea. 

Some laughed, others cheered. By now, everyone was watching, even Mermaid Barbie and Ken showed up after hearing about a possible showdown on the Malibu Beach. They shook their heads the way disapproving parents would before waving at you, happy to see a nicer face in town.

"Oh my gosh, Ken!" Mean Barbie squawked, running to her man and shaking his unconscious body a little too aggressively, "What did you do?!" 

"I just gave him what he deserved." Your Ken shrugged, running his fingers through his hair that had messed up when he lost his cool.

"You didn't have to like, punch him!" 

"It was gonna happen eventually," Alan murmured to himself, only to earn sounds and nods of approval from the rest of the Kens and Barbies. Even if Pompadour Ken wasn't the one putting them in their place, someone would've. 

Sure, maybe a dance-off would've been sufficient.

Buuut, then again, it was probably the real-world air that he's been breathing in for so long, so it was only a matter of time before his patience snapped, and it did when they started running their mouths about you.

After all, Mean Ken preferred 'manlier' efforts.

"You're in huge trouble, weirdo!" She hissed, believing your Ken's (necessary) violence could easily banish you two from Barbieland. 

"And what're you gonna do about it?" It was your turn to challenge her, standing closer to her with your arms crossed. You weren't just going to stand there and let her spit venom at your boyfriend, much less at your new friends. 

Just a reminder that your hands were rated E for everyone.

"I'll… I'll…! I'll tell Psycho Barbie!" 

"That won't be necessary." Everyone's heads turned to the side to see Weird Barbie approaching, boots off as she walked on the sandy floor with a delighted smirk on her face, "And that's Weird Barbie to you, missy."

She turned to Pompadour Ken, patting him on the shoulder with a grin, "Good job, kid. Didn't think you had it in you but it's probably that wild human air," She then turned to you with a wink, "You got quite the keeper." 

Ken mirrored her proud smile.

"A little help, doc?" She nodded at Doctor Barbie, who immediately rushed to her side. Weird Barbie pointed behind her with her thumb, "Give that guy a quick scan before the President gets here, will ya?" 

Weird Barbie was no doubt beyond excited to report the two, and with tons of eyes as witnesses. 

"Hey," Your Ken placed his hand on the small of your back, "I'm sorry about that. You wanna head home or…?" 

Ken was less than pleased by the thought of the day being ruined but he'd understand if it had because of the mere presence of the two. Some may call him dramatic, but to you, he was just making sure of your comfort. 

"No, no," You shook your head, resting your head on his chest, "I'm okay." 

The groans and whines of Mean Ken and Barbie respectively as President Barbie berated their actions were just bonuses to the feeling of you against him. Softening him up from what had happened prior like kneading dough ever so gently.

"I recall a certain someone promising to play his guitar around a campfire for me?" You teased him, hoping to lift his spirits.

"I did, didn't I?" He hummed, grabbing his guitar bag that lay on the beach chair before wrapping his other arm around you, "C'mon, I know the perfect place."

He brought you to the spot furthest from the 'busy zone', though that didn't stop his friends from dropping stuff like a blanket, sausages and marshmallows to roast as a thank you for his service. 

All in all, the night ended on a much higher note, with your boyfriend serenading you with romantic and cheesy songs he learnt back in the real world and stuffing yourselves with some good campfire food.

» a/n: not me imagining the punch scene from the Friday movie for this piece 😭

» more simu!ken content here: 1 – 2

» gorgeous rose divider by @firefly-graphics ♡

[writers-wrongs]

Could you write yandere headcanons for SDV Shane with a male reader? Thank you!

shane my beloved <3 and happy 1.6 update! quick warning for mentions of suicidal thoughts bc this is shane we're talking about

yandere!shane x male!reader

-honestly, i dont think hed see you romantically until a little after his 6 heart event. before that, he just sees you as a friend

-but after you stop him, he starts seeing you differently. i mean, you saved his life, how could he not think of you as more?

-he starts spending as much time as he can with you. youre his lifeline, he needs to be near you. just being close brings him so much happiness, and when youre apart, he feels worse than he did before you moved in

-if hes still working at jojamart, he loses his job soon. too distracted worrying about you, if he even shows up to work at all. but thats fine! he doesnt need money, he just needs you!

-100% would kidnap you... if he had his own place. its not that he wants to restrict your freedom, he just wants to keep you safe! you saved his life, its only fair that he protects you

-is... fine with you talking to other people. nonono, hes not jealous at all. please ignore him glaring at other people, its nothing. but if people start avoiding you, it has nothing to do with the broken glass youve been finding everywhere (it almost looks like broken bits of a beer bottle...)

-when you start dating, hes going everywhere with you. literally everywhere. you are getting no privacy. and even before he gets access to your house officially, he might break in every now and then to watch you sleep. just to keep an eye on you, yknow? nothing to do with how warm the space beside you looks, or how deep you sleep... or how you dont even stir when he gets in bed with you and gently holds you

-when youre married, its mostly the same. but now that youre in the same bed as him, you can hear him whispering to you as you fall asleep. bits and pieces of "please never leave me" and "youre all i have". if you ask him about it in the morning, he says you mustve dreamed it

-if at any point you leave him, hoo boy. he goes right back to drinking, so much that gus stops selling him beer out of concern. hes going to be following you constantly, crying and begging for you to take him back. he needs you, dont you get it? what did he do wrong? please dont abandon him...

[internetskiff]

hoo boy. SOMA. I definitely do not think of that game often ahaha that game certainly has not affected me in any way

Anyways!! Catherine Chun is honestly my favorite deuteragonist in gaming because of how well she's written (sorry Wheatley (he's a close second though)). On my first playthrough I (and I assume a lot of other people) just immediately decide "OK, she's the only other sane 'person' on this station, so she's automatically a friend", and hell, it seems that's how Simon himself views her from the moment they first speak at Upsilon's comms center. But reading into her dialogue, she really doesn't seem to view Simon as a buddy at all up until like.. Their heart-to-heart at the Climber methinks. Just look at how she speaks with him whenever he starts getting existential.

She speaks to him as more of an annoying coworker at times. Considering her attitude towards other sentient machines, I think it's extending even to Simon. She sees him as a means to an end, or at least tries to, up until she has to copy and paste his mind into a new diving suit. And then, when she fails to hide the original Simon from the newly created duplicate and he is rightfully distraught and furious - I think that's when the actual weight of it all hits her.

This interaction still fucks me up a little. The distress in that "Please, stop" as Simon (very righftully) lashes out at her. It's even worse when you consider this is how most of the people she scanned treated her. They're all desperate. They hope that when they sit down in that Pilot Seat and close their eyes, they'll open them in paradise. But when they end up exactly where they were. and realize a copy of them is going to be living it large on a spaceship while they continue rotting down at Pathos II, it's no wonder they'd suddenly view the whole thing as cruel and disgusting. It's still wrong and selfish, of course - especially directing that anger at the one person responsible for preserving humanity simply because you refuse to understand how brain scans work. It's worse when you realize she never got to defend herself from all of it, and in the end she was killed by her own desperate coworkers. And now she's experiencing it again. Unknowingly, Simon's putting her through the exact same thing her human template went through over and over and over again. She viewed him as a means to an end, but I think that stopped after she had to go through that. She shares her memories of home with Simon. I'd say they only REALLY start getting along at like, Phi, which makes the exchange immediately after the ARK is launched that much more gut wrenching. The thing is, while I think Catherine stopped viewing Simon as a means to an end, Simon didn't stop viewing her as one. From the moment she tells him about the ARK, he was probably itching to get on it. Sure, saving humanity is great, but you'd probably also want to be saved aswell, no?

The fact that this is her last exchange and these are the last words she manages to say is absolutely fucked up. You can just imagine what was going through Catherine's mind as she was saying this - Simon telling her she's "Fucking disgusting!", a sentiment echoed by people she considered acquaintances (people she was saving), seeing her own corpse with it's head bashed in by a wrench.. This wasn't just aimed at Simon, I think. This is basically her finally standing up for herself. Her standing up to everyone who despised her simply because THEY didn't understand how brain scans work. She did everything right, she saved humanity - and she was still treated like garbage in the end. And she doesn't even get to finish her sentence before her chip fries and she dies for the second and final time. And if Simon saw things from her perspective for once, he would have the time to pull her Omnitool out and save her from that.