#i am not easy person to get on with but nothing i do comes from malicious intent so please do not think i am being dramatic or

[anonymityisfunwriter]

Every Part of You

Pairing - Grumpy!Bucky Barnes x Sunshine!Reader A.N. - Alright, I've been asked to write about Bucky and Sunshine's first time many, many times. And the thing is, like sure, I could write that, but also I want us to take a moment to consider trying to build up to that. There's so many firsts buried in there that I think need to be navigated through before they even get there. This is one of those firsts. Like the first time you see Bucky's shoulder.

Bucky Barnes Masterlist | Grumpy Sunshine Series

"You're just- " You stop speaking, searching for his lips again. Though you're breathless, you can't bring yourself to pull away from him, "You're so pretty."

You shudder as you feel his hand slip under your sweater. The occasional graze of the cool metal on your skin enough to send shivers down your spine.

His lips trail down, nipping at your jaw, "I'm not pretty."

Your hands, winded in the hair at the nape of his neck, glide down his neck, to clutch the fabric of his henley. The moment he feels your fingers toy with the collar of his shirt, his heart hammers against his ribcage. Not in the sort of way that he usually feels in these moments with you. He feels a sense of dread, of panic. It wraps around his spine like a python. It feels like he can't breathe.

"You're so -"

He wrenches away from you, his chest heaving, "Stop, stop, stop."

You freeze, immediately dropping your hands. Panic starts creeping up your throat, coating your words. "Did I - did I do something wrong?"

He gulps, silently shaking his head. It takes him a moment to regain his composure, to regain the ability to speak clearly, "No, no, you're - you're perfect."

Guilt starts to eat at him. He can see you doing your very best to keep your own feelings off your face. He can see the sting of his rejection in the way your lips press together in a tight line. The embarrassment in the pallor of your once flushed cheeks.

You two have worked so hard to overcome your own personal issues and traumas, to build trust in each other, moments like these hadn't come easy. And he so callously pushed you away, it makes him feel worse. And what makes his heart ache even more, he sees nothing but concern for him shining in your eyes. You just look so worried for him.

Your hands rest in your lap. You twist and untwist your fingers. "If you don't want to, we don't - we don't have to do anything. I'm really sorry -"

"No, no, please don't be sorry." He reaches for you, gently squeezing your hand. It soothes him as much as it does you. "I want to. You don't know how much I want to."

"But?"

His eyes squeeze shut. He can't bring himself to meet your eyes. "You haven't seen it before - my arm, my shoulder."

"Oh."

He drops your hand. That feeling takes over him again. It feels like there's not enough air in the room. He slides away from you, closer to the edge of the tiny couch in your apartment. "It's - I am not pretty."

It breaks your heart, watching him pull away from you. You can only imagine how many people have turned away from him before. "James..."

He fervently shakes his head, refusing to open his eyes, "No, no, I know what you're gonna say, but it's bad. A lot worse than you're thinking."

"How do you know what I'm thinking?"

"It's bad," he insists. "I see it every day and I can barely - it's just bad, okay?"

You take his hand, squeezing it tightly. "It's okay if you don't want me to see it. I understand."

He finally opens his eyes again as his eyebrows pull together. He still doesn't meet your eye. "No, no, I want to - I trust you with this, I do. I just - I want you to be prepared."

In that moment, you realize that it's not really about preparing you. Not at all.

He thinks you're going to react badly. He thinks that this will make you turn away from him for the first time ever. He's worried that the love and adoration in your eyes will turn to disgust and repulsion.

It's less about preparing you for the scarred flesh, and more about warning you that he couldn't take a bad reaction. He's not sure he could take it if you turned away from him too.

"I love you," you promise him. "There's nothing that you could show me that would change that. I hope you know that."

There is no response to that. And you know that he won't believe it until he sees it. It takes him a moment. His hand toys with the hem of his shirt. His hand grips the hem, only to let it go.

"I love you," you remind him.

He takes a large gulp of air, pulling off his shirt with one quick movement.

You weren't really sure what you were expecting. You knew the story. You knew how Bucky lost his arm. He even confided the bits and pieces he remembered from getting his vibranium arm.

Your eyes trail over his skin. The shoulder is scarred, scars jut in every direction. Each scar is etched into his skin. It's clear it was a painful, violent experience for him. The metal plate protrudes from the scar tissue in a way that you're sure was painful when first placed. You look on with curiosity, you're not really sure how this, a sign of survival, a badge of resilience, could ever make anyone turn away from him.

He's as breathtaking as you could ever imagine.

Your eyes flicker up at him. He looks at the blank wall of your apartment, scared to watch your facial expressions as you take it in. "Can I?"

He nods, barely able to look you in the eyes. He sucks in a breath when your fingers make contact with the scar tissue surrounding the metal plate.

You immediately pull your fingers back, worried you've accidentally hurt him. "Does it hurt?"

"No," he answers reflexively.

You know he's lying. "I've seen you holding your shoulder before - holding it like it hurts."

"Sometimes," he amends. "The doctor said there's a lot of nerve damage. Things they can't fix."

"Does it hurt now?"

"No."

You run your hand over the plate, over his scars, down to his shoulder blade.

"Still think I'm pretty?" he sarcastically remarks.

You press a gentle kiss to his bare shoulder. "I'll always think you're pretty. Every part of you."

Bucky Barnes Masterlist AnonymityIsFun Masterlist

Reblogs and comments are always appreciated! 💛

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[frvnkcastles]

Hii I love your work so much!! I was wondering if you would do Frank Castle x reader based off of Sunlight or Francesca By Hozier? I don’t know I just feel like with how deeply this man feels that one or those would be perfect for Frank and the reader.

I WOULD DO IT AGAIN ➵ F. CASTLE

Summary: A glimpse into the way Frank feels for you.

Warnings: Fem!reader, violence, reader has unspecified mental health issues

Word count: 1.2k

Author’s note: I fell in love with both these songs thanks to this request!! I tried to combine both of them, though I suppose I got more out of Francesca. I’m a little on the fence about this one shot in general, but I hope you like it! Thanks for your patience <3 Also, I keep forgetting to say this, but thank you so much for 700 followers!!! It means so much to me that we’ve created this little community of traumatized Frank lovers :)

There was nothing Frank wouldn’t have done for you. He had known that quite early into your relationship, his devotion for you growing more and more every day, even if you weren’t officially dating. In fact, your feelings for each other had gone unspoken ever since you had met, but he couldn’t deny they were there — he cared for you so much it terrified him, it kept him up at night.

He thought about the first time he met you often. He’d never forget the way you looked in that dress you had dug out of your closet just for the occasion, how the warm bar light illuminated your starry eyes and how you had been nervously gnawing on your lip while glancing at your phone for the millionth time.

”Whoever’s standin’ you up would regret if they saw you in that dress”, he had spoken up from across the mostly empty bar counter, and you had immediately looked up only to find a man so attractive your stomach did a somersault. Rough around the edges but undeniably easy on the eyes, even more so when the corner of his mouth had twitched upwards in a sneaky smirk, even when his stare was focused on the crowd behind you. You had shuffled on your feet, looking around to see who he was referring to, but when you had turned back to him, you found him gazing right at you, making your mouth run dry.

”I was supposed to have a date”, you had explained over the music, ”guess it was a waste of a pretty dress.”

He had chuckled at that. ”Well, for what it’s worth, you made this old sucker’s heart skip a beat”, he had shrugged before gesturing at the empty seat next to him. ”Buy you a drink?”

And ever since then, he had been hooked on you. You made him feel alive, you gave him a reason to get up in the morning. So when you had told him you felt like you were doing the opposite, his heart had shattered in his chest.

”I realize I have a lot of baggage. So I don’t blame you if you want to, I dunno, check out now”, you had explained meekly, distance between you as you both stood in your kitchen at an ungodly hour, fresh stitches on Frank’s abdomen. ”I guess I’m not a very easy person to be around, is what I’m saying”, you had added with a quiet chuckle, and at that, Frank had closed the space between you, his hand coming to rest on your cheek as he swallowed all the air from your personal space.

”You think I am?” he had stated matter-of-factly. ”You’re wrong, sweetheart. I don’t remember the last time it was this easy for me to be around someone. You make me feel… Yeah, you just make me feel. I can’t get enough of you. Don’t ever think I’d wanna get rid of you, ’cause shit, as long as you’ll have me, I ain’t goin’ anywhere”, he had explained, passion behind every word, and it had made you tear up.

”You know everything that’s wrong with me and you’re saying you still want to be my friend?” you had asked to confirm, and licking his lips, Frank had glanced at yours before nodding. He had forced himself to withdraw, not wanting to cross any lines, but he had given your hand a squeeze, nonetheless.

”Never been more sure of anything.”

He wasn’t letting go of you. As much was confirmed when his enemies caught whiff of you being involved with him — before he knew it, your name fell from the lips of his latest target, and he had seen red. The men were coming from left and right, punching him, stabbing him, each of them claiming their piece of the Punisher, but he wasn’t going to rest until he’d know you were safe. Their taunts of getting to his little girlfriend had pushed him over the edge, and with feral anger, he slaughtered the lot of them, not letting a single henchman slip out and get to you.

He had wanted to avoid you seeing him like this so badly. But as soon as he was done, as soon as the men lay dead at his feet, he was rushing out of the warehouse he had been lured into, just to make his way to you.

The urgent knock on your door in the middle of the night wasn’t a completely unfamiliar sound — you had stitched Frank up more than a few times, but you could tell something was wrong. As soon as you opened the door, a bloodied Frank burst through, his eyes wide and alert, his shaky hands clamoring to find purchase on your shoulders.

”Hey, hey, what is it? Are you okay?” you asked with worry, eyebrows knitted together as you tried to balance Frank’s larger frame, your hands resting on his arms.

”I—I needed to know you were okay”, he managed to get out, breathless and panicking, and nodding to promise him that you were, you attempted to meet his frantic eyes and calm him down.

”I’m okay, Frankie, I’m okay. Breathe, honey”, you reassured, and slumping against your body, Frank pulled you into a vicelike hug, squeezing you tight, breathing you in. Blood stained your clothes and hair, but your priority was getting Frank across the panicked state he was in, to assure him everything was okay.

”They said they were coming for you. I—I couldn’t let them. I wasn’t gonna let them”, he repeated, before grunting, ”I killed ’em all.”

Pulling away slightly, you looked into dark eyes with a disbelieving frown. ”You did that for me?” you whispered, and finding solace in your gaze, Frank found it in himself to catch his breath and understand that the imminent danger was over.

”You’re goddamn right I did. I’d do it again and again. I’d do anything for you”, he swore, letting his forehead fall against yours. You closed your eyes and took his hand, giving it a firm squeeze before pulling him towards the bathroom.

”Let’s get you cleaned up, big guy.”

Even after he had had time to shower, he was still on alert, constantly checking the windows and pacing around your apartment. You had to fight him to the bedroom, insisting that you both needed to get some rest, and he supposed he could do that — watch over you, make sure you’d get to sleep soundly. Soon enough, you were cuddled up in the bed and Frank was sitting next to you, resting against the headboard with his eyes laser-focused on the closed door.

”Hey, you can relax. They’re all gone. No one’s coming for me”, you reminded him softly, caressing his arm with tender fingers, and swallowing, Frank slowly and reluctantly sank deeper into the mattress to be closer to you.

”I ain’t ever lettin’ anythin’ happen to you. You know that, right?” he grunted, and with a nod, you reassured him.

”I know. You always make me feel safe.” His eyes softened at your words, and gently, he reached over to kiss your forehead, his lips lingering for a brief moment.

He really would have done anything for you.

[brokenpieces-72]

Painting Faces

Navigation

Graves has no choice but to be present on the day Makarov addresses the force, but he keeps to himself while blending in. Makarov doesn’t bother himself with Graves expecting him to stay in line. At least at first.

Then he notices your empty desk. Graves had cleared it of your personal affects, including photos and personal documents.

“We’re missing an officer?” He wonders aloud while Graves files through some reports.

“Officers Graves, you’re missing a partner?” He asks.

“I am perfectly happy being single.” He replies with a good hearted smirk. “The desk is open, we had an officer resign.”

“I see. Very well.” Makarov walks away before Graves can try to make another smart comment. Graves sits up straighter in his chair though.

“That… that is impressive.” Gaz comments as he enters the warehouse seeing the mural you were working on for Los Vaqueros. You look down at him from where you were perched on a railing of a sort of cat walk.

“Thought a cowboy motif would be fitting. Alejandro told me there were good men and women who died here during a raid. Wanted to honour them.” You exclaim. You roll your shoulders and arms hearing a few cracks. By now your bruises were yellow, nearly healed. Your pants are covered in paint, and you old hoodie was warm enough to keep your from freezing in the dropping temperatures. That and Gaz’s very kind delivery of tea. He climbs up to you on the cat walk, and hands you the thermos. Just holding it warms your fingers in your fingerless gloves. He leans against the railing with you admiring your work.

“Figured a mural was the least I owed them. Can’t imagine Soap and Alejandro don’t have some tension going on.” You say, gingerly sipping your tea. Yep you still burned your tongue.

“Speaking of them… Alejandro and Rudolfo have been recovering from a failed raid.” Gaz says. So it begins.

“Makarov.” You say. Gaz nods, shoving a hand in his pocket sipping his own drink. Things were going to be flipped on their head and spun like a top. It would take some time getting used to. Thankfully the 141 was making the transition for you as easy as possible. The nights your father spent with them you were always a part of the conversation. One night there was a promise made to help take care of you if your father couldn’t.

“Ran into Alex at the shop, apparently he found a smaller piece of yours, with I think he said a pillow fight.” Gaz mentions trying to change the subject. You smirked at that knowing the piece he meant. You side eye Gaz who returns it, and you toast your cups. You take a sip and think for a moment.

“Has Soap said anything?” You ask Kyle. The two of you hadn’t really talked since the night you needed safety. Even then it had been brief and awkward.

“It’s how he is.” Gaz says. He’s taken notice of how you two have interacted and Soap talking about you less than he had. “It’s not that he hates you, I think he needs to talk to you. Simple as that.”

“So this is where you’ve been.” A voice came from below and behind them. They both turn to see a face they weren’t expecting.

“Rudolfo. Come on up mate.” Gaz says, offering the bruised man, a hand up. Rudolfo eases himself up through the railings and looks up at your work in progress. He gives a friendly smirk.

“Alejandro will like this for sure.” He says.

“Least I could do after everything. How is he?” You ask, looking up at Rudolfo.

“Nothing can kill Alejandro, except Alejandro.” Rudolfo says. “Unfortunately, nothing can get him to rest either. He’s worried about more drug shipments getting past us when we can be stopping them and destroying them.”

“Sounds like Alejandro.” Gaz says taking another sip of his drink. You stare at your work while taking a sip and think for a bit. The three of you all stand there in silence for a bit. You keep asking yourself, how would dad do it? He could break cases open, getting gangsters like Soap and Gaz to bring the hammers he needed for it. Now Makarov was in the picture too. Which meant needing to hide the hammers right after and hope he would bring glue to repair it.

“Could tell him.” You suggest looking at Gaz. It takes him a minute to realize who you’re referring to. Graves was an insider now. Graves also had to be removed from the case after Makarov returned. Gaz considers it and Rudolfo listens. They were informed about Graves and his involvement as well. It was risky, but if you couldn’t be your father, maybe Graves could step up in a way.

Kyle looks at Rudy. “You know when the next shipments are coming in?”

“We have guesses. So far they’ve been using fishing boats, so they don’t have to claim cargo.”

“They’d need a warrant to start searching.” Kyle adds.

“What if they got one?” You ask. “I mean… who’s to say it’s only one fishing company.”

“We don’t hit innocent.” Kyle points out. “But…you may be on to something.”

“If proof of illegal activity was brought forward to the company itself, investigations would have to start. If Graves is at the forefront…” Rudolfo trailed off.

“Where do we start?” You ask, trying to keep the smug look off your face. You may get to see them in full action.

“We first get Alejandro’s permission. Then we get more information from Laswell. After that we prep for the raid.” Kyle explains.

“I can arrange that. Will have to bring him to see this.” Rudolfo says, gesturing to the mural.

“Wait until it’s done.” You say smiling. “Thinking of adding something a little extra.”

You head back with Gaz to the hideout. He’s teasing you for all the paint you got on yourself.

“At least it’s not on the scarf.” You say stepping inside.

“At least it’s not still wet, you’d have to take your clothes off outside so you don’t track paint.” Kyle teases as you take off your boots. You notice Soap leaning on the fire escape outside. Kyle just gives you a nudge and no words. You take your boots off and carry them to the back door leading out to Soap. You put them back on to join him.

“May I join you?” You ask. He looks back and nods. You step outside and sits on the steps, rubbing yours hands together, trying to warm them.

It’s silent between you two again. There’s just the faint sound of wind and the usual traffic down below.

“Saw Rudolfo today.” You say, squirming on the step.

“How is he?” He asks looking over to you.

“He’s doing better. Still a little rough. Alejandro is getting restless about the shipments though.”

“You don need to worry bout that.” Soap says, facing back to the streets.

“I am worried about it, because it’s what I should be worried about.” You say.

“You don. You’re not a cop anymore.” Soap exclaims. It doesn’t sting as much as it once had.

“…cop or not this is my home now.”

“You have a hom-“ Soap starts but you interrupt him.

“No I don’t. This is my home now.” You say looking up, with him looking at you now. “This city is my home. It was my dad’s home too. If the cops aren’t gonna fight for it, then who else will? I’m not sitting on my ass waiting for an opportunity anymore. You gave me one, I’m not letting it go again.”

Soap looks at you for a while. “What opportunity?”

“When you let me tag on your turf.” You say.

Soap thinks for a minute, and then scoffs. “Stubborn as your old man.” He says.

“Nothing like my old man.” You respond.

“Not at all.” Soap says sarcastically. You smile.

“I really am sorry for lying. Throughout that whole time I was debating whether to even report anything or tell you what I was doing.” You say, rubbing your neck.

“Why didn ya?” He asks, turning and leaning back against the railing. You shrug.

“Felt more at home here.” You admit

“At home? What home?” He asks.

“With you and everyone you introduced me too. Barely known Ghost that long and I feel safer around him than by myself.” You say. Soap smirks at that. Safer around Ghost of all people? That’s a new one.

“I knew you might’ve been a cop. Just hoped ya weren’t.” Soap admits. “Let’s get inside. Gonna snow soon I bet.”

You both go back inside, feeling more relaxed around each other than before. Price steps in the front door just as you two step in from the back. He’d been popping in and out the past week or so never staying for long. This time he was grumbling something.

“Ye aight Price?” Johnny asks.

“My own deliveries are backed up for the bar.” He exclaims. “Graves came by as well to tell me, in person.”

You wonder if Graves did it to maintain cover or to ask Price how you were. You don’t voice it.

“Nikolai can handle it but it’s clear they’re trying to make money difficult. Farah came by, saying a few real estate companies were scoping her neighbourhood. A couple kids threw water balloons at them.”

“I like those kids.” You comment, imagining soaked suits and irritated scowls.

“Alex is on damage control there.” Price says, finally setting his jacket aside. He stepped into the kitchen, stretching and taking a beer from the fridge while you and Johnny join him. You sit up on the bar stool again.

“Makarov is stretching out. He wants more than just us, he wants everyone.” Price states. Johnny leans against the counter arms crossed, Kyle joining at the bar.

“Why now?” Johnny asks. “Could’ve struck b’fore.”

The question is weighty and is left in the air for some time. If your dad was keeping Makarov under control why did he leave?

“Because of me?” You suggest. Johnny, Kyle and Price both look at you. They consider it, but there’s not much to support your answer. “Maybe… he can manipulate the police easier because Graves knows me, and wants me safe. If Graves acts out, Makarov can put me in the crossfire but now I’m not so he thinks it’s easier for him to fuck with the system…maybe?” You try to reason.

“Not entirely out of question.” Kyle mutters.

“Something to consider.” Price says. “We can’t just go at it expecting to find something we don’t know is even there. For now we support where we’re needed, and test waters. Makarov having the police on his side is a problem, but the question is how hard he uses them.”

“Speaking of, we got a tip from Rudolfo. Alejandro may want our help on a drug raid.” Kyle adds. “We need to figure out where the shipments are coming from though. Maybe try to convince Graves to get a warrant.”

Both Johnny and Price went quiet at the mention of Graves again.

“I hate to play devil’s advocate and I know you don’t like it, but Phil is the only one we have directly on the force. We can lead him to where the problems are and book it when he gets close.” You say.

“They’re not wrong.” Kyle agrees.

“Something we will consider.” Price offers. “Right now, we need to focus on finding the exact shipments, and then deciding what to do. It’s Alejandro’s operation, we go through him first.”

Ghost came in and everyone turned to look at him. In his arms is a bundled up hoodie while he shivers in a long sleeved shirt on. You get up quickly, hurrying to take the bundle from him. By now you’d seen Simon with enough animals to know he puts great value in them. Sometimes over himself, hence the hoodie not on his back.

When you take the hoodie you bite your tongue trying not to awe at the tiny, furry, adorable, cute, wittle bundles of claws and teeth in your arms. You stare at them and look up with your eyes at Simon, who is brushing the remains of snow off himself.

“Take em to your room, get a blanket.” He orders. No one else matters but these kittens, which you take to your bedroom without a word.

While you are getting a blanket and a small shoe box for them to stay in, Ghost gets a different hoodie to help him warm up. The mangy black cat, hops on to his shoulder while everyone else just watches.

“Congratulations?” Johnny asks Simon as you come back into the kitchen.

“Keep them from their shitty father.” Simon grumbles. As he leans against the counter the cat hops off his shoulder and on to the counter. “It’ll give the kid something to do when we’re out.”

“I thought I was coming with you guys.” You pipe up.

“We will think about it.” Price says, sounding a bit like a dad.

“I’m not a child.” You grumble.

“If you do come on the raid it won’t be like arresting someone, it’s shoot to kill and keep your eyes open the whole time. No one is walking with side arms, they have uzis and AKs. Some fire wild too.” Kyle reminds you.

“I’ve done a raid before.” You try convincing them.

“You’re stayin.” Johnny says with finality. It’s not out of anger or irritation. It’s meant as words of warning, that this was bigger than what you’d encountered and he didn’t want you in the line of fire. Literally. You drop your head with some swallowed disappointment. You want to help. But you don’t want them worrying about you.

“One condition?” You ask. Johnny shifts his posture to listen.

“Okay two conditions… first one is all four of you have to come back after that raid regardless of what happens, preferably with Alejandro and Rudolfo too.” You stare each one down. Not very intimidating but they’re lenient.

“What’s the second condition?” Ghost asks, their silence an agreement to your first condition. You look directly at Simon.

“I get to name at least one of them.”

Alex steps into his small home, hanging his keys on the hook. As he shuts the door, the kitchen light turns on down the hallway. Very carefully, Alex turns the lock on his door, pulling out his side arm. He stalks toward the kitchen until he hears a familiar voice.

“I needed bandages…”

Alex sighs and holsters his gun before going to a hall closet and getting a small first aid kit.

“If it’s worse than I think, I’ll drag you to hospital.” Alex warns and enters the kitchen, seeing Farah with a few scratches. She’d come to him with worse. Her clothes are still damp too. Alex has to hold a laugh picturing Farah throwing a water balloon at a bunch of realtors.

“You want anything to drink?” He offers setting the kit down. “Was gonna make myself some food and then sleep. Now I have company.”

Farah opens the kit and gets the cotton and alcohol.

“Happy to provide.” Farah says as she starts cleaning. Alex starts making a sandwich for Farah as well. Farah was a good person, defending her home and neighbourhood. Alex was still on the force but with the new chief commissioner he was tempted to resign. Take some security job to pay off bills. Graves had been asking him to stay on though. With the sketchy land deals going on by Milena Romanova, he wasn’t leaving anytime soon.

Alex sets a plate down in front of Farah and he sits by with a plate of his own.

“You didn’t have t-“

“I wanted to, now eat.” He says pushing the kit aside. Alex and Farah had an odd relationship. Farah would often drop in like this. Alex had made it a habit to do the same on her every so often.

“I need a favour.” Farah admits after a couple bites.

“Only one?” Alex teases. “Go on.”

“There’s an artist I want to hire.” Farah explains. Alex looks at Farah.

“Need a loan?” He asks.

“No. I need you to look the other way. A small peaceful protest to get the realtors to leave us alone.” Farah explains.

“You have an artist in mind?” Alex asks. Farah gives him a smile that gets covered by an another bite of sandwich.

“This is really good.” Farah says through a mouthful.

“Thanks.” Alex says chuckling.

Taglist: @yourlovely-moon @kaoyamamegami @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @sans-chara @1mommyrose4ever29 @talia-the-gemini @yuki2129 @whitetiger846 @graystorm444 @chibiduck @reaperxxxxzz @danielle143 @sobbingnshtting @cringeycookies @cryingpages @smitten-haematite-quartz

[calmangel]

No because why am I scared of being made fun of for loving these men when Destiel is probably the most beautiful thing ever created.

An angel pulls a righteous man from hell and heals his wounds and is so overcome with this triumph that he screams DEAN WINCHESTER HAS BEEN SAVED so loud that he awakens fallen angels. He rebuilds this man from dust. The man is scared of Castiel, they don’t trust each other, but they need each other—the man begs the angel to see why Heaven, why God’s plan is corrupt and the angel should trust him. Against nature, breaking from the script, against God, his Father—the angel rebels. The angel rips out the part of him that serves Heaven all for this man and only because he asks. Only because now he’s starting to feel, and angels don’t feel.

What’s coming isn’t an easy task—the man considers giving himself up but the angel won’t let him, beating him unconscious while yelling I rebelled for this? And still, when the day comes, the angel dies for him. The angel attacks his own brothers for this man, is incinerated instantly, and never gave it a second thought.

After the angel is resurrected, they spend years trying to fix everything for each other and almost always do it wrong. They are eventually sent to purgatory together, and the man spends every waking moment praying to his angel. He could’ve escaped, he could’ve been angry at the angel for his misdoings, but he stayed, ripping flesh and killing anything in his way to get to the angel. But he doesn’t understand—the angel, upset, says they’re after me, Dean. I avoid you to protect you. The man won’t listen. He can’t. He pulls the angel to the exit but their hands slip right there, on the precipice. And the man is so distraught that he tells himself he’d let go by accident, but we know this isn’t true. The angel wanted to stay, wanted to feel punishment. The angel saved the righteous man and stayed behind.

But they can’t be kept apart can they?

The angel finds his way back, like always, and Dean is seeing his face everywhere. Dean blames himself. It’s easier than thinking his angel wanted to stay. It’s easier than being abandoned.

Heaven isn’t happy with this angel—this silly thing that gave up its innate purpose and programming all for a human—so they attempt to rewire him, resorting to lobotomy as a way to force him into conforming. They create infinite copies of his human and force him to kill each one, testing his loyalties. And after all this, after being turned into a mindless soldier through torture, it only takes one thing to break the connection. Dean, on his knees, saying I need you.

And this does not fix everything. Now the angel is desperate to undo his wrongs, searching for ways to repay him; so desperate that he misplaces his trust and is irreparably damaged, intimately violated by God’s Scribe. His grace, every part of his angelic traits, is stolen from him, literally ripped from his throat before the Scribe sends all angels plummeting to the Earth. And now the angel is an entirely new species—a human, soft and vulnerable, with nothing to his name—a prime target of angry, wingless angels.

There is only one thing he can do. He can call his human, beg for help, but it’s not going to come quickly. He has to decide between eating and warding himself from his murderous siblings. He virtuously refuses to steal or hurt anyone. He just wants to be safe. He trusts the wrong person and, seconds away from being saved by his human, is stabbed through the heart. Although his brother is injured, Dean caresses his angel’s face and sobs, insisting that the entity inside his brother’s body fix Cas despite how it will hurt the entity and likely put Dean’s brother at risk. It doesn’t matter. Then they go home, and the angel feels safe for the first time as a human.

But nothing lasts forever. The entity inside Sam is anxious, insecure around Cas, and so Dean asks the angel to leave. For probably the first time, Castiel feels intense sadness. Betrayal. Grief. Stress. And it’s because of his human, the one human he was attempting to make everything up to before. Well, apparently he hadn’t done well enough. The angel leaves, still desperate for cash and food, resorting to sleeping in the storeroom of a gas station to stay warm.

The angel has to protect himself from enemies, stealing angelic grace just to keep going. At the same time, Dean takes on the mark of Cain and slowly loses sanity. The angel earns a league of likeminded angels that believe in him, and it finally looks like maybe he can do things on his own again. Naturally, this can’t last for long—his allegiance to this dangerous, marked human is too risky for any angels to trust him.

And his allegiance is tested, but holds strong. Dean can tear the angel to pieces and he’ll still lay there on the floor, unwilling to harm him, and Dean will walk away knowing he could’ve killed Cas but didn’t. Couldn’t.

Over and over, they fight together or they fight each other and it never ends any different. They stick together. They get angry about how the other is acting. And they stay, because leaving just isn’t an option.

The next time the angel dies, the righteous man isn’t the same. He can’t accept it now, now that it seems real and now that the angel was so solidly good, so individualistic and pure. He burns his body and watches, red-eyed. This time it’s real. This time God isn’t on their side to bring him back. So he does what he knows—he drinks, he hides in comfort, he puts himself at risk. He starts thinking that maybe the solution to their problems is for him to die—really, hadn’t they destroyed the natural order enough?

And then the angel calls him from a payphone and all thoughts of ending his life are wiped from his mind. Dean didn’t care how he’d returned, just brought him home and indulged in a way they never did—they took a fun case, they dressed up like cowboys and caught a bad guy.

They’re not allowed fun, though. They’re doomed by the narrative—the God that is insistent upon failure. Over and over they’re tested, and no matter whose mother is killed and whose psyche is broken by being blamed for it, they stay together. Because you can hate and love at the same time. Because you don’t really hate them.

And at the end of it all, they’re still together. In the angel’s last moments, it’s still only about his human. What’s important is getting Dean safe, is coming up with a plan that saves Dean. Because even though Castiel had all his grace, Dean was the powerful one. Dean was the one who needed to kill God, who needed to stay alive, and who deserved a life.

And the angel did the only thing he knew how to do, the only thing that always worked—he sacrificed himself for his human. He told his human that he was in love with him, and told him the things he needed to hear, and let himself be swallowed up by eternity. All for Dean. For Dean, who was still beautiful.

And this did save the world, but Dean wasn’t the same, really. He vowed to give himself a good life, try to move forward, but it really wasn’t going to happen was it? It was always going to end in his brother’s arms after a hunt. And he was okay with it. And when he got to Heaven, sitting beside his true father with a beer in hand, he heard Cas’s name and smiled. It had been ages since he smiled.

[playboysaleen]

Metanoia (or not?...)

Metanoia:(n) meta·​noia - a transformative change of heart...especially : a spiritual conversion

Part 1. - Part 2. - Part 3. - Part 4.

Parings: Wednesday x Dracula!Reader (GN)

Warnings: they are a little older(19, lets say nevermore is a college), Blood, swearing, fighting, death, and.. some other grimey stuff. (i'm not a big word person.)

WordCount: 5.1k

this is literally Soft Wednesday for sure

note: I am adding some extra characters to fit the story line for both this fic , show and storyline. Also, the reader is masc tbh

___________________________

"Get up."

A groan slipped your mouth as your body laid against the floor of your dorm. A shadow appeared in your vision when a pair of hands gripped the collar of your shirt flinging you into the wall knocking over the artwork that fell on top of your head.

"What are you going to do when the Council comes in at the middle of the night and you sound asleep. Do you have a death wish?" Reinfield scolded as his arm wrapped around your arm lifting you onto your feet. You sent daggers to the man who patted off the dust on your black shirt when the door opened revealing Principal Weems.

"Ah, I arrived on time. Come now, to the field we go." Weems spoke, holding the door open for you and the man. You waved your hands to the two showing that you are still in your sleepwear. Rein shrugged his shoulders glancing at the door behind you. Your eyes widen and the next thing you know your cheek is pressed against the wet grass.

"Get. Off. Me." You muffled, grunting against the man's hold he had on your head.

"What's the magic word?" The amusement was definitely one sided. Using your body, you rolled over grabbing the man's hand and tossing him across the field. A loud "OOUF" was heard from the impact which sent a proud smile onto your face.

The smell of vanilla invaded your nose when you turned to the entrance of the gate you saw Wednesday, Xavier and Weems watching. A small smile ghosted your face at the small woman who made your heart race but soon you felt a shift in her stance when a hand was wrapped around your throat.

"It will not be that easy Dracula-" Rein started as you struggled against his hold, a crack echoed through the field as his fingers dug deeper into your throat. "The Council will stop at nothing to kill you." Rein tossed you again but this time you landed at the feet of the girl.

"And she will be the first person they will come after to weaken you." He whispered when his fingers mazed through your hair, yanking your head back to get a full view of the three, but she was the only one that stood out in your vision.

"Tear her head from her neck-" he started, a horrid vision flashed in your head causing your fangs to flash the three in front of you. "They'll rip her limb from limb." a scream that was foreign but you knew who it was. A growl bubbled at your throat when the grip from Rein tightened. Wednesday kept her death stare on the man, X swallowed the uncomfortable ball in his throat and Weems watched the sight before her fear seeping from her skin.

Your eyes turned white when the visions flashed through your head, Rein turned back to the trees as a group of people walked towards you. Rein nodded at one of the women whose eyes were white as a ghost. She blinked as the white in your eyes disappeared, you locked eyes with Wednesday releasing a breath. Rein let go of your head letting you lay onto the grass.

"Now, let's get to work." Rein clapped his hands while you now laid on your back attempting to process what just happened. An object landed onto your stomach that sent a burning feeling into your abdomen. You yelped, hopping onto your feet letting the object fall onto the ground.

"What the hell is that?" You yelled lifting your shirt to see the wound closing at a very slow pace. Looking between Rein and the now scarring, you noticed a group of people standing behind him.

"Now that is hell." A girl around your age snorted out which the strangers chuckled. A woman removed her hood from behind Reinfield.

"Vervain. A herb that could kill off a vampire, but for ascendant's... it is a small pinch." She spoke, extending her hand out which you accepted, shaking. "Bora." You nodded, mumbling your name looking back at the group. It clicked,

"You are the Original Bloods." Rein nodded, taking a few steps to stand by your side.

"Yes, they are. We have Bora. Shapeshifter." the woman nodded her way, you sent a firm nod. "And the visions you were having were by D. Hallucinations." The woman nodded when you sent her one back.

"Alek, Prykonesis." The man in the corner locked eyes with his own, sending a smirk as he lifted his hand exposing the flame in his palm. You gasp letting out a small chuckle. "Now that is cool." Rein smiled softly pointing at the smaller figure in the back.

"That is Sofi, the youngest of the Original Blood. Necromancy." Your eyes widen at the gift the child was given. Controlling and summing the dead is a very hard power to have. Your family told stories about the death summoner. She gently waved as you sent a small smile.

"And that woman there is Marija. Atomkenisis." The woman removed the hood from her head which caused your breath to catch in your throat. You nodded her way as she sent you a small smile. Quickly averting your eyes you saw a shadow that appeared from the trees. Taking a few steps back, your fangs peeked through your gums awaiting for an attack.

"Don't worry, Raina loves to make an entrance." D spoke, smiling at the shadow making her way to the group. The voice in the back of your head did NOT like the energy of the woman who sent a fanged smile your way.

"Needs a haircut but they'll do." The woman joked that you did not find any humor in it at all. You huffed crossing your arms eyeing the women's movements as she made her way to the girl from earlier leaning into her side.

"Who leads you all? like the Alpha?" You asked, there has to be a leader for them. A snort slipped from Raina as she walked towards you.

"There is no leader. We are mindlinked as one." Sass definitely seeped in her words. You raised your eyebrow looking between the women a foot from you to the group. "So... like a pack?" Bora laughed lightly, patting Raina's shoulder , nodding your way.

"Yes, like a pack." You sent a smirk towards the girl behind Bora who scoffed walking back to their partner who held a grin.

"You all have... amazing gifts." You started placing your hands behind your back taking a few steps next to Rein. "I do not know how to control...or even work my own." whispering, your head hung low at the expectations that now weighed on your shoulders.

"But you do." A small voice was heard, you lifted your head to lock eyes with the woman from earlier who held a warm smile. "When each of us were introduced I felt the shift in your body. When I was introduced you received a partial amount of my Atmokinesis. The weather dropped about ten degrees and you didn't notice." Your gaze followed the woman as she stood next to Alek. He opened his hand signaling you to do the same.

"Alek here will ignite his power and-" her words were cut in half when you copied the man's actions and your palm held a ball of flame. Rein sent a nod to Alek when he chuckled, taking a few steps back. Everyone seemed to make their way away from the two of you as you were lost in the flame in your hand.

Alek shot the ball of flames your way which you dodged quickly. You yelped when heat coursed through your body. The both of you went toe-to-toe exchanging balls of fire towards one another when a hand was wrapped around your ankle sending you to the ground. Trying your best to escape, you glanced at the group focusing on D's eyes then glancing at Alek's form. Your eyes flashed white as the man grunted turning to the opening behind him throwing countless amounts of fire. Seeing an opening you ripped the hand from your ankle blurring to him tackling him on his back. Alek hissed your way baring his fangs when you did the same only difference is you let out a growl/roar sending his fangs back into hiding.

"ENOUGH."

Even the animal chatter in the woods went silent along with the people meters away. Alek turned his head to the side, tearing his eyes away from yours. "I don't want to hurt you." you whispered letting go of the man's collar.

A gust of wind blew you off of the boy as you rolled onto your feet, locking eyes with the woman from earlier as her eyes spark with electricity. Your ears rang when you saw a ginormous animal sprinting from the corner of your eye. Quickly dodging a loud bang rang through your ears as you laid against the grass. Groaning loudly you held your side at the pain that was now subsiding. The animal from seconds ago lunged at you while you placed your arm underneath its neck, preventing the animal from biting your face off. It was a bear. It was Bora. Struggling against her hold you yelled at the piercing of her claw in your shoulder.

"Argh...i..CAN'T!" You cried out, the noise of Bora's teeth snapping drummed into your ears. You turned your head to the side as her mouth inched closer and closer. You felt a rush of adrenaline course through your veins as your eyes flashed a yellow/gold color as a snout replaced your nose yet disappeared when the weight became light above you. The growling turned into heavy breaths, you turned your head as the face of your nightmares appeared in flesh. A horrid scream left your mouth as a flash of electricity coursed through your eyes flying the boy across the field. You hopped onto your feet blurring to the woman who is now in her true form with your hand around her throat.

"NO." You roared as tears brimmed your eyes- "Never, EVER in your life use my dead brother as leverage to win this 'spar' we are having-' ' you started sinking your fingers into her neck as her knees buckled beneath the tower you had over her. Rein sighed, nodding his way to Marija as she huffed jogging towards you. She lifted her hands causing the sky to darkened and a handful of lightning strikes rammed into you. Falling onto your back a sharp breath slipped from your lips as you laid staring at the dark skies.

"They're hurting them." X whispered, Wednesday kept her hard eyes on you awaiting you to move. Weems placed a hand on Reinfields shoulder, sending him a look- "This will be nothing compared to what the Council will do, we must have them prepared and more." Rein argued turning back to your body but deep down the man felt guilt. Guilt that ate him alive for centuries. Guilt that got the best of him.

"They have learned alot from this sparring you are throwing onto them. Let them rest, you may prepare them physically for this fight but what do you think is going through their head at this exact moment. Look at them." Weems spoke pointing at the field where you stood then crashed back to the ground. Wednesday took a step to make her way to you yet stopped when Marija made her way to your side lifting you onto your feet. Her heart boomed against her chest and she felt an acid bubble in her stomach. Looking away from the sight, Wednesday grabbed X and dragged him away from the field.

"Class starts in a few, we must go." She mumbled, X sighed following behind the girl heading back to the building.

"Principal Weems, after talking with the rest of the OB we have decided it is best to take Dracula under our wing for training. They will still attend class, but will need to understand more of themselves now that we are here." Bora spoke to Weems as she sighed. Nodding her head,

"We are across the field in the new house that was built, we have plenty of space and will use the field to practice. There is a room already being cleared for the Ascendant." Weems nodded her head, looking between you and Reinfield. Your head hung low at the news but you really needed to feed.

"I...I need to feed. I'm not feeling well." Marija caught you before you could hit the ground. Everyone snapped their heads to Rein as he held his hands up, "Hey, I did not know the ascendent needs a specific feeding schedule." Everyone rolled their eyes chattering amongst themselves.

"Fuck it, drink from me." Marija spoke, many 'No's were heard from the group which you shook your head leaning into her hold. "Have they drunk actual blood? Not animal, Not New Bloods, I mean actual human blood?" Marjia asked, throwing your arm over her shoulder for better support.

"They have not." Weems answered, Bora sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. "They're going to need a lot more than what we have. Plus, a drink from one of us will be enough." the woman continued.

"Mari, you know what happens when Originals drink from each other." Bora mumbled out still figuring out what could be the best route.

"And they are an ascendent. We don't know what could happen. Besides, Their venom could kill you. They may be the F card." Raina spoke and with the last power you had you lifted your head locking eyes with the girl.

"Lets test my venom on you then huh," Raina rolled her eyes looking back at Bora. The woman turned to you then back to Marija.

"Okay, but after this is done we will head back and run some tests on them both. Raina will be on watch duty for the ascendent in case anything happens and I will supervise Marija." Marija nodded at the group letting Sofi pull her sleeve up. "Drink." You looked at Rein, which he nodded, taking a few steps back.

A shaky breath slipped from your lips when your hand wrapped around her wrist. a small vein pulsed against her skin that your fangs slashed out your gums and a wave of strength flowed through you. Following the vein up her wrist the pulsing became louder when you noticed the bright blue against her shoulder.

"No." Your arms wrapped around her shoulder as you blurred her onto the ground. Everyone began to panic when Marija lifted her hand to stop Sofi from moving closer.

"No one will save you." you whispered, locking eyes with the girl beneath you. Her eyes mirrored your own, "No one will need too." You flashed your fangs chuckling, "Good." You leaned down piercing your fangs into the girl's shoulder letting the blood pool your mouth. A moan slipped from the girl's mouth when your fangs sank deeper.

"Alright, that's enough." Raina spoke after a few seconds of you drinking what you could. A loud 'No' came from both of you. Bora nodded at Alek making their way to the two. Alek grabbed the back of your neck sending a small surge of fire to your nerves. You jumped away from Marija holding your head.

"Argh what the fuck." you grumbled hopping onto your feet. Looking at the woman who now was the one with her arm over Bora wobbling on her feet.

"We must go. We will see you in our home for dinner tonight. Grab what you need from your dorm." Bora ordered, you nodded, turning on your heels, blurring to your dorm. When you arrived the bell rang indicating that the first class was over. An uncomfortable feeling filled your body after you blurred your belongings in a duffle bag and box. Rein leaned against your balcony door watching your face fall.

"This is a lot to take in; I know, but this is for the best." Droplets fell against the roof as you grabbed your things glancing at the door.

"The fate of the world is in my hands and I still barely know how to whistle. What do you think someone my age should be doing? I didn't ask for this Reinfield. Now I have to kill the people who haunt my dreams at night." Venting to the man, you grabbed the phone that laid on your desk shooting a text to Xavier, updating him on what was happening.

"I know, kid. I know. Let's get you to the OB's so we can get you settled." You nodded following Rein out the balcony door blurring to the huge black mansion.

Knocking on the door, Aleks face popped from the crack smiling my way. "Finally. Come on, Bora has the chair ready for you." You nodded walking in and following the boy to a door that led to a nice comfy infirmary.

"Hey, have a seat, we will start here in a second." Bora's voice was soft when she sent you a smile as you handed your things to Alek and took a seat on the chair. You followed Bora's movement when she prepared an IV to place on you.

"Where is your Pure Vein?" Bora asked while preparing the IV kit. You hesitantly removed your shirt laying back on your back keeping your eyes towards the ceiling. Raina leaned against the door frame watching carefully as Bora struck the needle into your pure vein.

“Good place to hide, but make sure your chest is well protected when the time comes.” You sighed, blinking away the voice of your brother in your head.

“What will happen when the time comes?” Bora typed away on the computer answering-

“We will fight. I have Sophie and an old friend of mine contacting some people that could help us in this. After the death of the young ascendant that was killed by the Council three years ago, we have a lot of people like us who have a bone to pick with them.” Your head snapped to Bora as she was still mindlessly typing on the computer.

“Jaime?” Bora nodded, glancing at you. You gasped quietly, knuckles turning white from gripping the handles on the chair.

“Your readings are normal. Since you drank from an OB you actually don’t have to feed for the next 2 days. Amazing..” Bora started handing the printed readings to Raina to read over. “Marija is more than okay, she feels stronger.. funny how your venom is like an energizer for us.” Bora joked, removing the IV and placing a small cone onto your chest. You eyed the object and as curious as you are you poked at it,

"What is thi-" a yelp flew out your mouth when a shock was sent through your body. Raina howled with laughter as she lifted her hand guiding the cone across your chest. After a few minutes of discomfort the cone fell onto the floor.

"They're good to go, it's all gone." Raina spoke, grabbing the cone from the floor, tossing it into the trash. Confusion danced through you. What was her power?

"Thank you, can you please escort them to their room?" Bora asked, Raina could only nod, opening the door letting you pass her. Once she closed the door you let her make way in front of you.

"You're quiet. Normally you have something salty to say." She started as you both made our way up the stairs. "You never said what your gift was." Raina sighed, stopping at the last door down the hall. You opened the door to see the beautiful room. A window that took up the whole wall. About 3/4 of the room was the window and a huge California size bed against the only wall in the room, besides the wall the door was attached to. Forgetting the conversation you wanted to continue, you walked deeper into the room taking in the view in front of you. You could see the quad from your own room. Wednesday would love this view especially with the rain painting the window.

"Hemokinesis." Raina spoke after a few minutes of silence. You turned your gaze away from the window to her- "well your generation calls it Blood Bending." Your eyes widen at the information. "So you are the most powerful one here then?" She sent a nod taking a seat on the ledge by the window.

"I found out I was gifted when I was 19. I was married off to some man and when he found out he fed me to the wolves. My gift saved me but that was when Bora found me and I've been with them since then." You took a seat on your bed,

"Why do you hate me so much?" You asked shifting on your arm as you leaned into the bed. She sent you a small smile shaking her head.

"I don't hate you." She started, you leaned back up waiting for her excuse. "I'm scared for you."

"You are not the first to mate with someone who is nothing like us." Your eyes widen. "You were the one everyone spoke about a few years ago." It all made sense now. She nodded, clasping her hands together, sighing.

"What they left out is... I was not the one that killed her. The council did. Sad thing is that the council needed some kind of reminder to people like us of their power. My mate was murdered in 1843. " A small gasp flew out your mouth. She scoffed, shaking her head.

"The Council will play mind tricks on anyone to keep the power they have on everyone strong. I fear for you, for your mate. She has no idea where she stands now and not only in your life but with the most powerful people in the world." You shook your head standing from the bed walking to the window,

"No ones going to touch her. Over my dead cold body." You grit grabbing your coat storming to the door. Raina blurred your way grabbing your hand stopping you from the door.

"I said the same thing and she's gone. I stand with you so please know we all do." You eyed her features, feeling a small source of heat flowing through your chest. She was telling the truth. The blood that was stored in her body was warm. Still. Even without trying you were blood bending for the truth and you found it.

"Go. Be back in an hour." She whispered, letting go of your hand. You sent her one last look blurring to Nevermore. After a few minutes, Raina made her way into the living room to meet with the rest of the Originals.

"They left- didn't they?" Alek asked, walking in from the kitchen with a newspaper. Raina nodded, taking a seat next to D snuggling into the girl's embrace. Bora sighed leaning forward towards the coffee table moving a chess piece while Sofie eyed the board. Marija blurred from the other room grabbing her coat. Raina raised a hand to stop her.

"They went to see their mate. Leave them." The lights flickered throughout the house as Marija nodded walking upstairs into her room. Alek sighs loudly taking a seat next to Bora, sending her a goofy smile.

"So who is going to tell the newbie that they're Marija's dead mates doppelgänger?" Alek spoke for the room when Bora sent a hand into Aleks shoulder, dropping the paper from his hands. D chuckled, wrapping her arm around Raina bringing her as close as possible. 

“I will talk to Marija and you four stick around for back-up” Raina huffed rolling her eyes, “She’s going to lose her shit huh?” Sofi giggled quietly moving her chess piece next to Bora's king as the young girl stood to her feet walking to the kitchen. 

-    - 

You stood in front of the building, eyeing the balcony a few stories above you. Taking a step back, you leaped onto the tree hanging a few feet away from gripping onto the branch when you saw the silhouette of the girl sitting with a huge instrument in her hand. Thing held an umbrella over Wednesday as she started her piece. You sat on the branch letting the sound dance through you. Your eyes opened when her heartbeat boomed in your ears, leaning forward you noticed the crease in her brows. The vibrations from the music filled your bones, the aggressive playing sparked something you. You were scared something was wrong. 

The music came to a halt when a tear slipped from her closed eyes. Thing dropped the umbrella as the rain seemed to stop too. A heavy sigh was heard from the girl when she looked down at the appendage. 

“I do not understand why I feel like this. I feel fear but not the kind I love.” She spoke. Things signed and you guessed from the way the chair scraped back on the concrete triggered the girl. Wednesday walked to the ledge of the balcony placing her arms on top keeping her gaze on the house you were staying in. 

“I do not know this being and for some reason everything my father has said was true.” You were confused on what she was talking about, Thing stood still then slowly signed. 

“It feels like a hot iron in my throat but I believe him. I understand.” 

Her heart raced, as if you could feel it as your own. You decided it was time to step in as you hopped off the branch onto the ledge. Her head snapped to you, sending her a small smile you moved from the ledge standing a few feet away from her. 

“Hi.” was all you could muster up. Distracted by her heart beating in your ears, you missed the gasp that slipped her lips. She was the one to take the first step towards you. You studied her movements searching for any discomfort but your body played against you as your hand reached for hers. 

“How…are you feeling?” It was a struggle for the girl to get those words out but the look on your face washed away the small tinch of disgust she felt. You sent her a small smile. 

“Way better than what I felt a few hours ago. You okay?” You answered but as you spoke she took another step standing a few inches away. The height difference made Wednesday lookup as you looked down into her eyes. It was as if she could hear your dead heart beat with how nervous you felt. All she could do was nod. 

“I have to stay at the OBs for a bit. Rein will take you someplace safe when the Council comes.” The rest of your explanation was shoved back down your throat when the look the girl in front of you had shot your way. 

“No. I am going to stay with you no matter what happens.” She expressed taking a step back, shaking her head. Huffing, you looked at the sky. “It is for the best. I can't have you in any type of danger.” She scoffed, crossing her arms, “and what makes you think I couldn't handle myself.” 

“Could you please just do one thing for me?” You pleaded, the screams from training echoed in your head as you leaned against the balcony. Wednesday shook her head sending Thing a look which he scurried away. “I am capable of taking care of myself.” She argued but was shoved right down her throat when you blurred infront of her backing her against the balcony window. The veins under your eyes were now dark and visible, while the fangs poked out your lips were twice the size. 

“The Council will kill you Wednesday. Rip you- limb from limb. What are you not understanding?” You spat with your eyes staring deep into the girl's soul. She slightly leaned forward to meet you whispering. 

“I will not run away when my heart for some reason needs to be as close to you as it can. I don’t know why I feel like this and I can't stand it. This magnetic pull I feel when you are not around, I can’t go a few hours without wanting to be next to you.” You took a step back at the girl's response. You would have never thought you would hear such words out her mouth. 

“The Council is coming for me and will not stop till I am dead and burned.-” You licked your lips as you looked down at your feet, “and since you are my mate, they will come for you too.”

Wednesday shook her head at the way her hand acted on its own grabbing yours. 

“If that is true, I’d…I’d want to die by your side.” Your eyes widen as the veins are now gone and your fangs hide inside your gums. You swore a day ago the girl in front of you was the most heartless human with you being the one with no heart at all. You felt heat engulf your body when she placed her head against your chest. Your arms wrapped around her as you both stood in silence while the sun was now visible and setting along the horizon. You held her in your arms for a moment thinking. 

“I will have the OB talk to Weems tonight.” You whispered. She could only nod her head burying her face deeper into your chest. 

“I do not like the way I feel around you, but the closer I am… I seem to tolerate it more by the minute.” She mumbled into your chest which you pulled back sending her a small smile. You moved back, sighing softly. 

We need you back here…we got a bit of a problem

D’s voice was heard in your head when you snapped your head to the house. 

“What is it?” Wednesday asked, following your gaze to the house. You looked back to the girl pulling her back into your embrace. Funny how after a hug the girl no longer freezes in your touch but rather yet sinks in. 

“They need me. I will come get you after class tomorrow. I’ll be here waiting.” You pulled away speaking. She sent you a nod but the stare she had on you made you stand there waiting for her response. Warm lips were planted on your cheek when the world stopped. 

“Go.” 

she whispered inching away into the dorm. You nodded, sending her a fanged smile hopping onto the edge jumping off. 

__________________________

Geez, its been a while lol.

I basically have the story done. like 70%. So enjoy.

[isekyaaa]

wld love to hear ur thoughts abt ur last post on true selves - @milkstore

It's really simple tbh? Basically people have this assumption that if they've never opened up to you, you can't ever know their "true face." They assume that the face that they show to the world is heavily divorced from their true self. Sure doesn't help when they act differently around different people, blah blah blah. To them, their masks are lies and their heart is truth. To be honest, I'm not sure I understand why these people think this way. Are not the different faces a person wears just different facets of their personality?

Regardless, I think because people operate under the assumption that the masks they show to the world aren't their true self, they assume they can't ever be known without their consent. It's a really ridiculous assumption tbh. It'd take a lot of conscious planning and decisions to truly create a persona that is completely unlike yourself. Like you'd literally have to be insane to do that.

In reality, people do not think much before making majority of their day to day decisions. Must you play a mental chess match to decide whether or not to greet your coworkers? Do you make conscious decisions to purchase food you dislike so nobody will know what you actually like? Do you have to physically and consciously move the muscles in your face to form a smile or a frown for every interaction? If these things do not take much conscious thought, then are you not acting true to your "true self?"

Then think about the things you consciously do or don't do. If someone disagrees with you but you don't argue back, does that not say something? If you tell jokes at work to get people to laugh, does that not reveal things? Even if these actions are not a part of your "true self," does not the fact you simply did them tell something about you?

This is just talking about actions. This doesn't even go into reactions. People assume that they are the best actors and can fool the world, but they are just fooling themselves. Initial reactions are hard to hide. True happiness and excitement is hard to fake. Feigned interest is quite easy to see. Stress, anger, and hurt are hard to gloss over. Are not emotions and the reasons for them very revealing for true selves?

And kinda going into my other post, you work from there. [Observation + observation] = intuitive observation. [Intuitive observation + intuitive observation] = mid-tier observation. Etc.

In my personal opinion, while intuitive observations are where the meat of everything is, that doesn't make simple observations less... intimate. For example, you observe a person doesn't eat many vegetables. You can rightfully assume they don't like vegetables. The very fact you noticed this means that you were paying attention to them. You know something about their true self.

[easeupkid]

sometimes i really am as dense as a brick

[gallusrostromegalus]

The Van Has Officially Declared It Spooky Season

---

I've got my parent's van for the week and it seems determined to establish my status as The Local Cryptid by terrorizing an innocent 7-11 clerk.

...I might need to back up a bit.

My mother is an eminently sensible woman who knows herself well, and when The Plauge hit, she knew she'd need some sort of mentally and physically engaging craft project to keep herself from going insane and massacring the local zoning and water management boards (even if they have it coming). So she and Dad acquired a utility van and converted it into a camper van because while they love camping, they're past the age where their joints and immune systems will tolerate sleeping on the cold ground in a nylon tent.

They did a terrific job of it and my mom taught herself woodworking and carpentry and now the van has it's own cabinets, fold-away dining table, and removable queen-sized bed with memory foam mattress. My Dad was already a computer engineer, but he learned the dark magics of automotive software and electronics to install after-market backup cameras, a media player that would take a terabyte hard drive and a solar-powered battery and outlet so they could wake up and just turn on the kettle and griddle for breakfast without having to exit the van into a cold morning on an empty stomach.

Truly, the height of Camping Luxury.

My parents are both in their mid-seventies and my primary life goal is to be at least half as cool and hale as they are when I get old.

Anyway, they take it out at least a dozen times a year and it works fabulously, but, being as I am on good terms with my parents and also finishing the process of moving house, I've been borrowing it to move large and cumbersome objects that will not fit in the back of my equally lovely but minuscule Honda hatchback.

It's a Great Van. Very easy and comfortable to drive. Stunningly good MPG for it's size. The best cruise control I've ever had in a car.

It's just also. Quirky. Mischievous, even.

---

If this van has a fault its that it bears the unfortunate affliction that all lightly used white utility vans have in that the combination of an utter lack of branding features and the large dent/scrape I accidentally put on it while trying to escape a Denny's last Thanksgiving means that this vehicle is one addition of a Badly Spray-Painted "FREE CANDY" on the side away from being the sort of vehicle you see in an edgy horror movie.

It's got the same issue that Doberman Dogs have where they look like the sort of creature that likes to snack on toddler's faces whilst actually having personalities made of marshmallow fluff. This vehicle is unnecessarily menacing and I think nothing short of an airbrushed Epic Van Wizard will correct this. People see this van pull up and lean over and squint suspiciously at me when the driver's side door opens, and then look moderately confused when, instead of Charles Manson, a small, potato-shaped creature with neon purple hair and a statistically unlikely assortment of dogs emerges.

My own two dogs, Herschel the Hanukkah Goblin/Corgi and Charleston Chew The Taco Dumpster Dog, Do Not Like The Van. Even with the bed in it, they have a tendency to slide and roll around in the back, and both WILL chew through dog saftey belts or other attempts to secure them in there.

On the other hand, my house mate's dog, an exceptionally tall standard poodle whom we lovingly call "The Creature", loves the Van because SHE wears her doggy seat-belt with only mild complaining and gets to sit up in the passenger seat like A People.

Also like A People, The Creature likes to stand and walk around on her hind legs. It doesn't hurt her and it's entirely voluntary, but every so often I will feel a hand on my arm and instead of my husband or friend, it's a canine that's taller than I am on her hind legs who wants to stare at my face with soulful, concerned eyes. The Creature's favorite thing is that she is exactly the right height for me to hold her arm in Genteel Fashion and walk around the pet food or hardware store with her like I'm a count escorting a debutante around a royal ball.

---

As it stands, I am set to inherit this vehicle whenever my Honda gives up the ghost, and I fully intend to paint an Epic Van Wizard on it when that time comes.

The other peculiarity of The Van is that while Dad did manage to successfully install all his after-market electronics, not all the electronics get along. Sometimes, they fight for Dominance. The Terabyte Music Player and the Backup Camera have a particularly contentious relationship, and turning on the music has about a 25% chance of turning on the backup camera as well, and turning on the Backup Camera is equally likely to turn on the music.

Firthermore, The Van has a favorite song.

I am not kidding that Dad filled an entire terabyte hard drive with music and the software to sort it via the radio controls, but of all the Early Boomer Dad Rock (Kingston Trio over The Eagles) and Irish Folk and Symphonies and the entire discography of Weird Al Yankovic, The Van's favorite song- The one it picks to play as victory music every time it beats the Backup Camera at their weird electronic game of rock-paper-scissors -is The Liberty Bell March by John Phillip Sousa.

You all know this song already.

...but in case you've forgotten the tune:

Yeah.

The Van's favorite song is the goddamn Monty Python's Flying Circus Theme Music.

It does not play this song at a normal volume.

Every time I turn on the Backup Camera and it manages to turn the music player on as well, The Van insists on absolutely blasting this nonsense on at the maximum volume it's physically capable of producing, which I know is loud enough to be heard from the Denver International Airport's Pickup zone when they Van decided to start playing it from the economy lot about half a mile away.

Perhaps it's The Van's way of honoring the aesthetic sensibilities and sonic enthusiasm of Mr. Sousa.

...I can't help but wonder if the purpose of an Epic Van Wizard is to control this sort of faerie-like malarkey, and channel these chaotic energies into things like Spell of Don't Break Down In Nevada or Enchantment Of Always Have Good Parking.

---

So last Friday the 13th, I get a call from my friend and housemate, at said airport.

It's roughly 11PM at night, and I have already retired for the evening. I am in the exact minimum of clothing required to be a decent housemate and not scandalize the neighbors should I happen to walk by a window. My feet are up. There is a cat in my lap and fictional British people murdering each other in highly inventive fashion on the tv. -But my friend has returned from her friend's wedding,and either American or United Airlines has managed to lose her luggage, including, among other valuable possessions, the keys to her car. ...So she cannot just drive home as originally planned.

There are, as luck would have it, her spare set of keys not eight feet from me.

Being a good and decent person, I agree to bring the spare keys to her so she may get home before daybreak and not spend a semester's worth of tuition on an uber across the greater Denver traffic jam.

Being also that she Loves Activities, and it's her mom we're going to pick up, I elect to take along The Creature.

I am primarily focused on remembering how to get to the airport and not leaving my friend's spare keys on the counter, so I throw on a pair of flip-flops, step outside, remember that it's AUTUMN and my minimal evening attire is not sufficient thermal protection, step back in, grab the first coat in the closet I lay hands on, pull it on, check that I have her keys again and leave.

The trip to the airport is largely unremarkable, save that it becomes necessary for me to put on sunglasses to drive, despite it being nearly the witching hour and almost entirely darker than the inside of a cow.

It's necessary because this blissful darkness of night is violently punctured by a startling number of cars that seem to have installed miniaturized but no less powerful lighthouse bulbs in where their headlights ought to go so the oncoming traffic and sports cars that insist on tailgating me in the slow lane alike illuminate the road and my mirrors with the kind of radiance I'd normally associate with the arrival of a Seraphim.

I arrive at the distant highly discounted airport car lot where my housemate is waiting, deeply apologetic. It's nothing. I say. Once I see that your car starts up, I'm gonna go to that 7-11 across the way that I parked in front of, get a slurpee or something and I'll see you at home.

While she is retrieving her vehicle (an equally eccentric but much more stately Subaru that is old enough to be elected to congress) I rifle through the loose change in the glove box and discover that I have exactly $6.66 in small bills and coins. The Subaru, continuing it's long voyage into vehicular immortality, immediately starts up.

Upon her return, we all remember that my friend had all her camping gear in the backseat of the car and there is no room for The Creature to ride home with her parent, so I again assure her it's nothing, and will just take The Creature into the 7-11 with me. She is trained as a service animal and needs the practice after the plague.

I wave my friend off and turn to enter the 7-11.

I promptly trip over the jutting back bumper of The Van and fall, cartoonishly, face-first onto the sidewalk.

Fortunately, I have a lot of practice falling on my face, and have learned not to throw my hands out but instead cover my face, so my unexpected self-inflicted attempted curb-stomping lightly scrapes my hairline and nothing else -my sunglasses even stay in place- and I get up and resume my quest for a slurpee.

It's well known that the airport is a lawless place, and the 7-11 across from the discounted airport parking at the stroke of midnight is no exception.

I know it's the stroke of Midnight because there's one of those Audubon society bird-call clocks that makes bird noises, and my arrival is heralded by the twittering call of a Summer Tanager. I am almost charmed enough by the unusual choice of chronological device to excuse the exorbitant Airport-adjacent mark-up of Slurpee prices. I stand at the machine for some time, trying to decide on a size for the price and guess what the fuck "Blue Lighting Blast" is supposed to taste like.

The Creature is being Very Polite but is somewhat agitated, I assume because she *just* saw her mother for the first time in three days and then she LEFT with no explanation, so The Creature is on her hind legs, staring woefully into my eyes, asking to be escorted around the 7-11. Even though that's not what she's not supposed to be doing, there's nobody else in here, so I let her hang off my arm and discuss various Slurpee Flavor options with her.

We eventually decide on an experiment in which I try a Small Blue Lightning Blast, and discover it tastes a bit like licking a nintendo cartridge but in a pleasantly satisfying way.

I go up to pay and realize something is amiss.

The Cashier is a young man staring at me with wide eyes, one had over the register and the other wrapped up in his rosary.

I look down at myself.

In my haste to reunite my friend with her spare keys and service animal, I had left the house in the following accoutrements:

Flip Flops. Not matching. It's below freezing outside. That last part is not particularly odd footwear for the weather in for Colorado, but it's an important detail for the rest of the ensemble.

Assorted scrapes, bruises, cuts and welts on my arms and legs that come with doing outdoor work and living in a house with three dogs and a fully-clawed cat that all want to be in my lap all the time. It's cold out, so vasoconstriction has pulled the blood away from my skin, a trait that served my ancestors well during the last Ice Age, but leaves me with pale skin to contrast the various wounds and I look like a corpse that fell out of the back of a pickup truck.

The black Bootyshorts with "CRYPTID" painted in bright red gothic font across my ass, that @theshitpostcalligrapher gave me for my wedding present.

A peculiar but extremely comfortable garment that straddles the line between "Lacy Camisole" and "Industrial-Strength Sports Bra" like the Ever Given straddling the Suez Canal. It is also Bright Red. with black accents.

The Jacket I had grabbed out of the closet, which is in fact, a black Velour Dinner Jacket.

The Tokyo-Ghoul inspired reusable anti-covid mask a friend made me with the set of Coyote Teeth.

My sunglasses, which are shaped like a Halloween Bat. The lenses are the wings and the body is the nose bridge. It is ALSO bright red.

A Very Large and remarkably Humanoid Poodle that I have been audibly affectionately calling "Dear Creature" who is hanging off my arm like she's my Prom Date.

The Very Large and remarkably Humanoid Poodle is ALSO dressed up in a black Dog Sweater that has white bones printed on it to look like its an X-ray jacket showing off her skeleton.

I look like I am taking my Very Fancy Werewolf Girlfriend to a particularly casual Dinner Party for Vampires, but the thing that's really selling it and probably alarming the kid the most is the fun accessory I acquired in the parking lot not five minutes earlier:

The "Small Scrape At my Hairline" is actually a painless but PROFUSELY bleeding head wound that I had somehow entirely failed to notice covering my face, neck, decolletage and magnificent cleavage with blood like a Tarantino Film Extra.

This does explain why The Creature has been delicately trying to use her bodyweight to push me down onto the floor for the last ten minutes. So I don't injure myself while we wait for the paramedics she hoped this kid called to arrive, you see.

The Creature has such a High and Naive Opinion of humanity.

I decide this social situation is already fucked, and the only way out is through, and with haste, before I start dripping on the floor.

"Hi there!" I say cheerfully, to indicate this is a visually alarming but not terribly serious situation. "Just a Small Slurpee!"

The Cashier has entered the relevant code into the register before I finish the sentence. His gaze flicks off me just long enough to look at the total, and he grips his Rosary harder.

$6.66

"Oh cool! I have exact change!" I say, taking the money out of my as-yet-unsanguined pocket without looking and slap it down on the counter. "You have a good night and be safe out there!" I wave, leaving.

I get in The Van, mortified, buckle The Creature up, and as I make to leave, I have to put it in reverse, which automatically turns on the backup Camera.

It also turns on the music player.

I make eye contact with the cashier as the dulcet tones of John Phillip Sousa boom from the van hard enough to make the windshield and the windows of the 7-11 rattle for the nine-and-a-half seconds I have to wait to be able to turn the volume back down. Not knowing what else to to, I give him a thumbs up, and leave.

Anyway, now I know what my Future Van Wizard has got to be dressed like, and what their familiar is.

---

If you enjoyed this story, please consider donating to my Ko-Fi or Pre-ordering my Family Lore Funny Stories book on Patreon

[nathaslosthershit]

Lie Detector (Teen Dad!OP81 AU)

(Part of the Teen Dad!Oscar AU) Summary: Oscar does a lie detector test and Lando learns some tough pills to swallow.

“So, our first media video for McLaren since the big news came out, right Oscar?” Lando said.

“Yep.” Oscar weakly responded. When McLaren asked him to do the lie detector test again, hoping to poke fun at the recent events, he was weary. He knew his team wouldn’t do anything to hurt him or his family, and it would probably be great from a PR perspective, but he was already tired of constantly answering questions. 

“Or should I call you Daddy Osc now?”

“Please never call me that.”

“So, we are doing a lie detector to try and expose all secrets the two of us may be hiding, like an entire family for example.” Lando, of course, knew about Oscar’s kids before he was exposed, but he still loved the opportunity to poke fun at him for it, even if he totally understood why Oscar did what he did.

“This time, we are using a heavy duty lie detector, with actual wires and someone to tell whether we are for sure telling the truth, instead of a toy that shocks us at random.” Oscar continued, ignoring Lando’s comment.

The words ‘Oscar tells the truth’ flashed on the screen till a wired up Oscar appeared behind the desk.

“Okay Oscar, starting off easy. Is your name Oscar Jack Piastri?” Lando was giddy as he asked, really excited to get information out of his teammate.

“Yes.” was all he responded. Truth.

“Are you originally from Australia?”

“Yep.” Truth. This was easier than he had thought, but looking in Lando’s eyes, he could see the glint of mischievousness in them.

“Are you a daddy?” 

“I am a father, yes. I don’t like the look in your eyes when you call me that.” Truth.

“Do you have any other kids you are hiding?”

“No more than the two.” Truth.

“Am I their favorite uncle?” Lando knew he had it in the bag. The Piastri twins loved him and how much he spoiled them. Their parents? Not so much. Oscar’s fiancee had time and time again argued with the amount of toys Lando would get them at random.

He did begin to sweat a little as Oscar took a little longer to answer the question. He didn’t know how to break the news to him. 

“...Yes.” Lie.

“What! Oscar? You said I was their favorite!” 

“Lando, Logan has been in their life since they were born. He established himself as the cool uncle. When I let him babysit, I always return home to them eating way too much ice cream. To be fair, I think he has trained them like Pavlov’s dogs to associate him with treats so now they get way too excited and jumpy when they see him.” Oscar explained.

“This is stupid anyway I don’t care.” Lando mumbled, caring very much that he wasn’t the favorite. “Moving on, I don’t have any more questions so I guess it is my turn.”

After the video had been filmed, Oscar and Lando walked back over to the meeting room that the Piastri twins and their mother had been given to hang out in while they filmed. On the walk over, Lando interrogated his teammate even more.

“I cannot believe that I am not the cool uncle! I have never not been the cool uncle. Mila thinks I am cool, how do your kids not?”

“Lando, they are three, it is nothing personal. They love the toys you get them and they are always asking for you when they come to the factory. Logan just has seniority over you and has been the cool uncle forever, it is hard to dethrone him after a year.” Oscar said this hoping that it would stop Lando from spoiling them tenfold. 

If anything it just made him even more motivated to overthrow Logan.

landonorris

liked by oscarpiastri and 472,264 others

landonorris logansargeant I will become the cool uncle

oscarpiastri lando please. No more toys we don't have the room

logansargeant In your dreams old man.

[orteil42]

some undifferentiated thoughts about my Starfield playthrough as i have them. i am a game developer with a strong interest in procedural generation and i've enjoyed a bunch of other bethesda games so this might get pretty mean sorry

(this is a long one)

starfield dialogue is already exhausting me "oh you must've been living under a moon rock ;)" get it! because they're in space! this would've been too corny for the Jetsons

there's a kind of cheap dusting of space theme over everything. the food isn't salmon but alien salmon. it's not seaweed but alien seaweed. cooking alien stir-fry. come on

cannot get over how clumsily the theming is handled. books, board games, weapon names revolve heavily around space. these people have been living on alien planets for hundreds of years yet have this unending sense of novelty about it. the game takes itself completely seriously but feels like it's attempting to parody itself

people's EYEBALLS are CLIPPING THROUGH THEIR EYELIDS

a woman is speaking to me in french. her accent is about as believable as her haircut

these are some of the worst reflection maps i've ever seen

next to nothing is interactive. you can sit in chairs and sleep in beds and that is about it. can't even drink from people's toilets. disgraceful

game helpfully crashes 5 seconds after i decide i should get some sleep. very handy!

my character has not said a single thing since i started playing. not one peep. this is an unmitigated improvement over Fallout 4 i'm so glad honestly

the more i poke around the big city the more the NPC quips feel like something out of gen-1 pokemon. can't get enough of this coffee :) this city is where it's at :) spacesuits are comfy and easy to wear

very strange sense of altered reality from the quest dialogue too. has anyone at bethesda met a person before? i move on to some mission that has me scanning wildlife on a faraway planet hoping this will, somehow, feel less alien than human conversation

just as with No Man's Sky, every planet is uniformly dotted with equidistantly-placed points of interest that you slowly make your way to (no vehicles besides your jetpack) which always turn out to be some cave or building identical to those you've cleared before

unlike with No Man's Sky, the seamless exploration is faked and the biodiversity is nil. you do get an impressive amount of raw loading screens however

the prefab bases and power stations found everywhere on planets seem to have very sparse, very specific slots for spawning consumables, which results in encountering some giant industrial installation in the middle of nowhere with, i don't know, a loaf of whole-grain sandwich bread just casually sitting next to it all proper. there is no breathable atmosphere here. who is eating this

planetary traversal is a CHORE. i am saying this as someone who loved Death Stranding

heinous "hold to confirm" buttons sprinkled in various flow-breaking places throughout the interface

enemy AI is abominable. nobody is pathing their way to get my ass. "must've been the wind" taken to the next level. an infant playing peekaboo has more object permanence

hoisting yourself up on ledges when jumping is…nice

companions randomly nowhere to be found. persists through multiple fast-travels and loading screens until, just as randomly, they pop back up

storage space is now limited! unlike in Fallout 4 and virtually every other bethesda game, your containers now hold a finite item capacity. god forbid we let the player have fun

baffling inventory UI. i imagine there's a mod out there that completely overhauls it the way SkyUI did for Skyrim. this should not be needed! how are your UIs getting worse a decade later!

scanning the precious few species inhabiting some dusty planet; one of them is this arching red root i've already seen several times before. my job done in this biome, i travel (read: teleport with a loading screen) to the polar region to find some other species. the first one i catalogue is the exact same red root again but this time it's named "boreas root" todd howard is a genius

some alien horror comes at me full fangs out. i hop on a pebble. obscenely, i am safe

procedural terrain generation beyond dull, impossibly unimaginative. these people have not had one critical thought on what makes a procedural world interesting. beginning to feel validated in my belief that only i should be trusted with proc gen. along with perhaps tarn adams

jokes aside this is making me feel genuinely insane. there have been excellent procedural generation techniques that produce compelling explorable maps for decades now. bethesda absolutely has the budget and know-how to do miles better than this yet somehow they just…do not? the same way Pokemon has decided to just no longer bother with their mainline games despite being the highest-grossing media franchise in history? hello? what is for real going on

some of the most cynical breadcrumbing i've seen in years. approaching some random cave and this person in space gear, who in the vast immensity of the infinite cosmos just happens to be snapping pictures right here, tells me more-or-less verbatim "if you like this place, you should see this other place" [other random cave has been added to your map.]

i do not like how good this makes No Man's Sky's gameplay look. it depresses me how much i have to hand it to No Man's Sky for at least not fucking up this bad. please stop making me wish i was playing No Man's Sky instead this is grotesque

i think i've exhausted my interest and patience for this game at the moment. i'll get back to the main story at some point and try some other systems ie. crafting and base-building to see if there's any engagement to be found but so far, my god. my god

[ragingbookdragon]

Price finds her in the equipment room doing a rather meticulous job of cleaning their weapons, but he also notices that the only set she currently has out, is none other than the side-arm and knives owned by their resident Lieutenant.

“Quite rare to see you here on a Friday night,” he says, taking a seat across from her, grabbing an oiled rag to start cleaning with. “Shouldn’t you be going out with Gaz and Soap for drinks?”

She pauses, looks up and then lowers her gaze back to the firing pin she’s cleaning. “Didn’t feel like going out tonight, Captain.”

“Didn’t feel like it or didn’t feel like seeing ‘you know who?’”

“You know?” She asks and he shrugs.

“It’s my job to know everything that happens within the one-four-one.”

“I thought that was Miss Kate’s job?”

Price smiles. “We share responsibility.” He methodically rubs the rag along the parts of the side-arm, his expression and voice becoming rather calm but she feels the air turn a little stern, if almost a fatherly stern. “You’ve been avoiding him.”

She makes a noise in her throat. “I can’t exactly talk to him. Look what happened last time.”

“He feels bad.”

“I’m sure he does,” she retorts, looking at him. “He really hurt my feelings. What am I supposed to do, tell him it’s okay? That we can move on like he didn’t tell me I’m clingy?” She stops, looks down at her hands. “I sound like a fucking child.”

Price hums. “You actually sound like a person who’s had their feelings hurt and you’re not sure how to proceed.” He dips the rag in a big more oil. “I know it doesn’t equate what he’s said to you, but allow me to fill in some blanks you might have on Simon.”

She cocks a brow. “Okay?”

“Simon was the oldest child of two. Abusive dad, terrified mom. Younger brother used to terrorize him too.” He goes back to cleaning the gun parts. “Nine-eleven had Simon enlisting, came back after a lull, kicked his dad out, got his brother sober and even found himself the proud uncle of a nephew named Joseph.”

“Where are they now?” She asks. “Simon’s from Birmingham, right?”

“He is,” he answers, but his face and voice are void of any hope. “But they’re not anymore.”

She blinks, feels the shift in temperature. “They…moved?” She hopes; he meets her gaze, and she knows instantly. “Oh…I…how did it…”

“I don’t want to divulge Simon’s past without his permission, because it’s also his own choice to tell you what happened, but I can tell you that Simon had a personal vendetta against the man and others who hurt his family. And he took care of it.” Price inhales and exhales. “In doing so…Simon sacrificed himself. He made himself—“

“A Ghost,” she finishes, and he nods.

“Simon, when it comes down to what he truly is beneath his cold stoicism, my dear, is simply a very tired and even more broken-hearted man who believes that if he keeps everything and everyone at a distance, then nothing can hurt him.” Price sets the weapon and rag down. “He likes to think he’s incapable of feeling but don’t let his demeanor or words fool you, Simon feels more deeply for the people he loves more than anyone I’ve ever met.”

Something aches in her chest, rising up to close around her throat as she asks, “A man like him…he can still love?”

He smiles half-heartedly. “I’ve seen the man run back through a burning building to pull Gaz out. I’ve seen him run through gunfire, take a bullet to the thigh and keep going to carry Soap.” He nudges her under the table. “I’ve even seen him pull your ass out of even stickier situations. If we viewed Simon how he wanted us to view him, it’d be easy to call him a heartless bastard. But he isn’t as heartless as he wishes he was.”

“That just shows he’s doing his job as our superior officer,” she counters weakly. “He’s doing it because it’s his duty to get his subordinates out.”

“Does it ever just feel like that?”

“…no.”

Price gazes on her like a father to his daughter with her first heartbreak. “What do you feel right now, puffin?”

She purses her lips, looks down at the various weapons on the table before she admits, “I’m still hurt. His words keep replaying in my mind. I’m clingy and I’m always around.” She fiddles with the fraying hem of the rag. “That I’m a bother.”

“Would it make a difference if I told you that I don’t think such things?”

She shrugs.

Price blinks, reaches up and rubs his chin thoughtfully. “You can be very excitable. Sometimes, I think you let it get the better of you and you often forget that others don’t always have the same personality as you.”

“Excitable is the polite way of saying annoying.”

“If I wanted to say you were annoying, I would’ve. You genuinely are a good and wholesome person, my dear. But you have to remember that everyone has a different level of extroversion. Sometimes, we have to tone it down a bit.” He meets her gaze and she knows his is full of honesty. “Simon doesn’t actually hate you. And he probably feels a tad bit of annoyance, but then again, he always does regardless of who it is, because Simon hates anything that makes noise. But I also know that he feels bad for what he did and said to you—and he wants to make it right.”

She takes in his words. “Do I need to engage him first? Extend some olive branch for peace?”

Price rises from the table and smiles, walks around and pats her shoulder. “Nah, let him come to you.”

“You really think he will?”

“I do. He knows what he’s gotta do and he’ll do it because he knows it’s the right thing to do. But he’ll be skittish. He’s like a newborn deer.” He winks. “Let him mull over how he wants to do it. As for you,” he points at her. “You’ve gotta move on from this. Learn from it. And stop ignoring him and avoiding him like you’re a ten year old. Be a grown-up. Act professional and be polite. I will not let this effect the team any longer than it is. Am I understood?”

She swallows thickly and nods. “Yes, sir, Captain Price. I promise.”

Price smiles and pats her again. “Go on. Soap and Gaz headed to Purecraft.”

“But the Lieutenant—”

“Is in the training room working out,” Price waves her off. “Go. Have some fun. Get some drinks, talk to Tweedledee and Tweedledum.”

As she gets up, she pauses and looks at him. “Captain?”

“Hmm?”

“Thank you.”

Price’s eyes crinkle around the edges. “You’re welcome, Puffin.”

[foundfamilynonsense]

Sometimes I just want to sit down and say, like… Gay men, lesbian women, and straight people. You could wake up tomorrow and discover you’re actually bi.

Tomorrow you could meet someone of the sex you do not think you are attracted to and go “oh fuck”. There is no rule— nothing—that says that could not happen to you at any moment.

“I’ve lived forty years without—” so?

“I can just tell I’m—” how?

Now, we can get into the conversation of how these labels aren’t actually law, and that you can be a lesbian even if there was that one guy and you can be a straight guy if there were those two guys in college and etc.

And that’s totally true and valid and we should normalize that. But that’s another post.

My point for this post is that, yes, you are one strange meeting away from being bisexual. It will probably never happen. But you can never say with 100% certainty that it won’t happen.

But that doesn’t mean every gay, lesbian, and straight person should start calling themselves bisexual just in case. That would be a completely absurd thing to expect.

Can you imagine if we go around to gay men and were like “but how do you know you’ll never be attracted to a woman?” Imagine if we did it to straight people? The idea you have to call yourself Bi just in case?

This is easy to understand. So why is it so hard for people to understand when it comes to asexual and aromantic people?

Like… I suppose I could wake up tomorrow and catch some feels for someone. I… doubt it. But it could happen.

But I’ve been alive 22 years and it hasn’t happened yet. So why should I expect it? Why should I spend time thinking about it? Why should I label myself based on that slim possibility?

The number of straight people who have said to me “well you never know” or “maybe you just haven’t met the right person” or whatever. Can you all IMAGINE what they would say to me if I threw it back?

“Oh, sally, you don’t like any women yet but you never know. Maybe you just haven’t met the right woman.” Their heads would explode I think.

I am an adult. I have been through college and it’s social life. My brain is (basically) done developing and I finished puberty quite a while ago. How late do you have to be before people concede that you’re not a “late bloomer” you’re just not gonna bloom at all?

Maybe tomorrow I will wake up and be attracted to someone. I still would consider myself on the aroace spectrum. But to be honest I think I know myself enough to trust it’s not going to happen. And I don’t think I should have to plan for it or expect it.

[theapangea]

Bruised

Characters: Lip Gallagher x reader, Fiona, Ian, Debbie, V

Summary/ Request: How do you think lip would react if fwb that they've known each other forever ends up coming to the house in the middle of the night in the middle of winter with sleep shorts and a tank top with socks, covered in bruises

Words: 1.5k

Warnings: Parent abuse, physically abuse

A/N: PROTECTIVE LIP AHHHHH!!!! I just love him and know he'd protect reader at ALL COST! All mistakes are mine as I am sometimes too lazy to proof read but I hope you enjoy!! Let me know what you think!! <3

You are in a daze.

Your frail body shakes as the sudden flashbacks of yelling and pushing and crying continue to play in your head. Trying to understand, to comprehend what in the hell just happened. Thinking a million thoughts yet completely nothing at all. Your head aches, the shooting pressure builds, beating against your skull. 

The snow crunches under your steps, soaking through your socks as you stumble to keep yourself up right. The icy wind causes you to tremble more than the horrors of the night. Barely able to keep your eyes open wide enough to see where you are going. 

Having no particular destination in mind but here you are standing outside Lip Gallagher’s house, knocking on the door in the middle of the night, begging to be let in. 

Lip has been the person you’ve leaned on for almost every bullshit thing that has happened in your life, understanding each other on a deeper level. It was only recently that your relationship with Lip became sexual but your connection was much more than that. And unfortunately neither of you have the guts to make it anything more than just friends who sleep together.

Your knocking rapidly increases, quickly becoming impatient until you hear the lock on the other side click and the porch light turn on. Coming face to face with his older sister Fiona who’s look of annoyance quickly washes over with concern, brows furrowing, mouth open in shock as she stares at your fragile body, wearing only a cotton tank top, small boxer shorts and socks shielding you from the cold. Your exposed skin is covered in purple bruises, deepening in color with every second that you tremble in front of her. 

Immediately snatching one of the jackets off the hook behind her and wrapping it around your shoulders as she pulls you inside. Goosebumps lining your skin as the warm, inside air circles around you. The pain is no longer from the cold but from the aching bruises. 

And while your world has been turned upside down, a happy boy on the next street over is fighting a huge grin as he walks back home.

The extra skip in Lip’s step was from the wonderful night he just spent with Karen, mainly the sex part. Their relationship has become more positive and Lip hopes that they are finally going to make it more official, like boyfriend/ girlfriend official, no one else on the side.

But...becoming official with Karen means that he will no longer get to see you...at all. Karen is hugely jealous of your relationship with Lip. The inside jokes, the constant hanging out, the connection that she sees that you two are obviously oblivious to. And the only way that she agreed to making things official with Lip is that he will have to cut off all ties with you.

Lip is feeling torn, picking between you and Karen should be so easy for him but these past couple of months, especially when you add sex into the equation, makes him question everything. He lets out one more deep breath, the fog floating in front of him as he knows that tomorrow he will finally have to tell you that you can’t be friends anymore. Knowing that the outcome is going to be disastrous.

Skipping every other skip as he jogs up the stairs of the back porch, a curious thought enters his mind as he notices all the lights shining into the darkness of the night and the door unlocked as he jiggles the handle. Walking into the warm kitchen, unwrapping his scarf and shrugging off his jacket, dismissing the items onto the table until some unknown later time.

The commotion from the front end of the house travels around his body as he stumbles to kick off his boots, catching himself on the wall by the stairs to stop himself from falling over. Peaking around the corner, trying to understand the roaring chaos that fills that Gallagher house tonight. 

Ian comes down the stairs, his hand placed on his forehand and the other holds a phone tightly to his ear. Practically arguing with the person on the other line, speaking some details about a house over on Gilmore Street.

Gilmore Street…that’s where you live. 

Lip’s interest suddenly peaked, his face asking a plain question towards his younger brother…what the hell is going on here?

But Ian waves him off, continuing on his story on how the police need to check on the house now and how something really fucked up happened. 

Lip stands there dumbfounded, trying to figure out this super confusing situation that he just walked into. His attention floats elsewhere as the two women in the next room talking abruptly loud. If he didn't know Fiona and V personally, then he would think hat they are arguing. Walking closer to the dining room but not actually in the room itself, Lip watches their interaction. 

Their movements are elaborate and complex. Fiona runs fingers through her hair, tossing it to one side, passing the hard floor beneath her. The conversation between them is making no sense to Lip, something about having to wait until tomorrow and trying to solve some problem. 

Lip stands still, his mind trying to piece the puzzle together from the small details that he has been given. But how could he, when it feels like everyone is talking in code. Like it's some top secret event that he can't know anything about.

Feeling something graze his side, bringing him back to reality to see Debbie walk between the two women towards the living room. In her hands a mug with steam coming from it. Walking quickly to the couch where she hands the mug to a girl. Lip following Debbie's same movements to get a better look at who's in his house. Eyes wide when it see that it's you...

A confused look freezes on his face as he studies your body. Your shaky hands reach out towards the mug as the warm contains seeping through the glass cup through your body. Your eyes fixated in front of you, as if the small girl standing in front of you isn’t actually there. Your chest heaving rapidly, breathing heavily through your nose. Knees bruised, shaking together. 

It is as if the dam that keeps the water of emotions behind a strong wall suddenly shatters. The instant fire spreads through Lip’s body as he sees your weak state. The walls of decorum crumble as his hands turn into fist and his jaw locks. The blood making his face bright red, moving quickly to your side, his knees hitting into the wooden floors hard as he practically pushes Debbie out of the way so he is kneeling in front of you.

“WHAT HAPPENED?” Lip voice breaks through the chaos of the house as he holds onto your shoulders, shaking slightly but your gaze would shift to meet his, “What happened, tell me!” He whines, the pain mixed with anger driving his actions.

“Don’t yell at her dummy.” Fiona shouts as she comes over, grabbing Lip off the floor so they are face to face.

“What the fuck is going on?” The spit spewing from his mouth, his hand signaling towards you and why you are bruised and bleeding and hurt. Why you? Why you?

“We don’t know. Your little girlfriend just showed up here like 10 minutes ago.” V crosses her arms behind Fiona. 

“She’s not my girlfriend,” Lip quickly remarks, the comment would have stung you more if you can actually concentrate but tonight is not the night for you to be dwelling over how Lip Gallagher feels about you. 

Your soft voice speaks his name.

Lip coming to you again, “Hey,” Lip’s kind eyes are on you, his touch now gentle as his heart aches. 

Eyes shaking as they meet him, glossing over as a tear slips down your cheek. But you struggle to get any words out.

“Just tell me what happened?” His hand on your cheek, wiping away the tears, “Please tell me.”

Gulping hard, your trembling body making the liquid in your mug move, hesitating as you say, “My dad."

“He got out?” 

“From where?” Debbie asks.

Lip groans, hate having to explain further, “Prison. Shut up.” Debbie rolls her eyes, obviously annoyed.

“Th-this morning.” The words feel like cotton balls in your mouth.

“He did this to you?” Standing up immediately, “I’m gonna kill that motherfucker. Get the bat Ian.” He points towards his brother who instantly follows his orders.

The tears start flowing now, the snob leaking from your nose. Your body collapsing as the abuse of the night finally settles in causing you lose yourself.

“Lip.” Deb pulls Lip's attention back to you.

“She needs you right now buddy. You can beat the son-of-a-bitch up tomorrow.” Fiona patting his back before leaving the room.

And he knew Fiona was right. He didn't need to be this guy who beat the shit out of some low-life, that isn't going to make him a hero to you. Lip needs to be here for you now, comfort you, take care of you. Be the man that you need.

He realized why you came over to his house, looking for him at your darkest moment. Understanding that you and him can spend hours together without saying a word. Be closer, more intimate then sex with Karen will ever be. It was always going to be you, he was always going to pick you.

Wrapping his arms around you as you sob deeper against his chest, shushing as he rocks you, "I've got you." Kissing the top of your head. The instantly relief coating your body.

~~~

Let me know what you think!! thank you for reading. I LOVE YOU!!!

[starryeyedjanai]

bad boys do it better

rated: teen | @steddieholidaydrabbles prompt: modern au tags: dating apps, innuendo, bad flirting read on ao3

✿

Eddie finally opens Tinder after downloading it in a fit of desperation.

He's tried everything but these stupid apps—bars and clubs and pottery classes and rock climbing—trying to find someone he can connect with.

But he's mostly found guys that string him along with whispered sweet nothings and half-promises they don't intend to follow through on.

So he makes his profile and then promptly fumbles and drops his phone because— no fucking way.

There's no way this is real life.

There's no fucking way the first guy to pop up is Steve fucking Harrington, his unfortunate and longest lasting crush in high school.

He picks up his phone and sees Steve's face staring back at him, unassuming, a bright, cheery smile on his face.

Steve, 28 2 miles away "Hope you like bad boys because I have it on dvd and vhs" Interests: baseball, basketball, live music, movies

He taps to get to the next photo and lets out a shaky breath—the shorts of what can only be his Halloween costume are so short, exposing hairy thighs that Eddie wants to sink his teeth into.

The next photo is a snapchat picture of him grinning wide, cradling what might be the world's ugliest dog, the text across the screen reading my nephew is so handsome 🤩🤩🤩.

The last is an obligatory shirtless mirror pic, not showing off washboard abs, but the soft, toned skin of his stomach.

He closes the app, sets his phone down, and breathes through his nose.

This can't be real, right? In what world would Steve be the first person in a sea of profiles in San Francisco of all places?

Eddie expected him to chase after Nancy Wheeler when she went to Boston, but he didn't stick around long enough in Hawkins to find out if they ever rekindled their will-they-won't-they relationship.

Maybe he's just visiting. Maybe he found his match and just forgot to delete Tinder. Because there's just no way Eddie has this kind of luck.

He opens up Instagram and searches for Steve and finds him right away because they're probably still Facebook friends.

He scrolls through his profile and deflates a little, because all of the pictures on Tinder are from his Instagram. Which means it's probably much more likely that someone is catfishing using Steve's pictures.

Because the Steve from high school wasn't into men. And he's hot enough for someone to use his pictures to scam people or whatever.

He opens up Tinder again and his thumb is swiping right before he thinks about what he's doing.

It's a match!

Okay, now he knows it's a catfish. Or maybe it's a bot.

There's no world in which Steve Harrington would swipe right on him in the twenty minutes it's been since he created his account.

He types a message to "Steve" saying so are you a bot or just a catfish?

He doesn't get a response right away, so he clicks out of the messages, looking at profiles of what are hopefully actual people he can connect with.

His phone buzzes when the message from Steve comes in.

Hi3 Eddiems, cl!ck th3 linkin my proffile to . achat I am waitin9

He rolls his eyes and goes back to perusing profiles. It's not like he thought it was really Ste-

His phone pings with another message and he clicks back into the chat immediately.

That was a joke. There's not even a link in my profile

Eddie's heart beats a little faster, his fingers typing out a response.

So a catfish then?

Why do you think I'm a catfish?????

Because I know the guy in those pictures and there's no way hes into men. That guy was a jock extraordinaire in high school and very straight

You're awfully judgey for someone who was so anti-conformity in high school. Whos to say I haven't changed?

Or like, learned new things about myself?

Eddie's breath stutters in his throat.

Also you didn't really know me since we never talked.

Okay, I mean. It's pretty easy to guess that I was counterculture in high school by looking at me. So I'm still on the fence about the catfish thing

How about we meet up then? So you can see me in all my nearing-30 glory

And watch bad boys on dvd and vhs with you?

Dude, I am not inviting you to my house on the first date

That's a third date kind of thing

Oh yeah? Is it a back-to-back feature? We start with the vhs then move to dvd?

He can't believe he's entertaining this. A catfish wouldn't offer to meet up unless they thought Eddie wouldn't call their bluff. He kind of wants to see where this is going.

No see, we start with the dvd playing in the living room and then when we inevitably start being bad boys🥵 in the middle of the movie, we can pick it back up on vhs in my room later

To be clear, we stop the movie, right? I'm not sure bad boys has a soundtrack meant for the kind of activities we'd be doing

Oh for sure. I'd even put on my "let's get it on" playlist. As a treat.

Eddie can't help but grin. Even if this guy is a catfish, this is maybe the most fun he's had talking to someone in a long time.

Are you serious about meeting up?

Uh yeah, I can't have you thinking I'm a catfish forever

What's your favorite brewery?

Cellarmaker

Wanna do tomorrow afternoon at like 2 when it's not busy?

That sounds perfect

He isn't sure if it's really Steve or if he's going to be met with someone else or stood up, but at least he'll get to drown his sorrows if it doesn't work out.

Well—he's unsure until he gets the 'stharrington started following you' notification on Instagram a few minutes later.

He screams into his pillow so loud his neighbor thumps on the wall.

[repulsiveliquidation]

Wake Up Call || Jessie Fleming

warnings : this is pure smut. somnophilia (consensual fucking while asleep), strap-on, anal fingering, pussy-eating. enjoy.

summary : jessie comes home to you having some vivid dreams. a good girlfriend always helps their girl in need.

Jessie walked into your shared apartment at 5 am, having flown into London at the last minute to surprise you. She crept in and greeted Milo your dog, giving him lots of pets to try and keep him from barking in excitement and waking you. She dumps her bags at the door and leaves her shoes at the door which she knows she’ll get reprimanded for in the morning but that’s something for her to deal with later.

The door is a little ajar and the bathroom shines a sliver of light into your bedroom. The fan is on high and the AC hums just a touch.

She looks towards the bed and smiles. There she was, the person whom she was sure her bones missed. You looked so peaceful, nose and cheeks lit by the light from the bathroom. They were tinted a little red from the cold room and Jessie turned it down a little. The sun was coming up just a touch in the distance and she knew that you would be up for work soon.

There was a book on the bed face down and she noticed her pillows cradling your head instead of your own. You had her ratty UCLA shirt on, hair tousled from sleep. Your mouth was slightly open and your breath steady. Nothing made her heart swell more than seeing you sleep so peacefully.

She tried to make as little noise as possible getting herself ready for bed, brushing her teeth, and throwing one of your sweats and t-shirts on before standing at the foot of the bed with a little smirk on her face.

She stared at you, watching your body. You had been making noises while she took the fastest shower in the history of man, whines, and whimpers coming from your lips that weren’t exactly soft.

Your hips ground into the soft mattress.

Your hands gripped the silk sheets tight.

Your eyebrows furrowed in frustration.

Your lips moaned only one name.

Jessie.

You were having a wet dream.

About your girlfriend.

A good girlfriend took care of her girl’s needs, didn’t they?

Jessie was no longer dog-tired. No, that warm shower made her sleepy but the sultry sound of your voice moaning her name was one that she admits she missed. The phone sex was great but the mics never picked up on the soprano and alto tones of your voice that drove her crazy.

Jessie stood in front of her bedside drawer with her hand on the knob for a solid 30 seconds, debating if she should do what she impulsively wanted to do. You’ve said yes to what she was about to do but she didn’t want to disrupt your sleep.

“Fuck it,” Jessie mumbles to herself, opening the drawer a little too aggressively to pull out her strap. She also notices the lube running low and smirks to herself, putting a reminder in her head to ask you about it later.

She settled the harness comfortably over her hips and threw her shirt off, crawling onto the bed. Jessie smirked and listened to your moans.

“Please Jessie,” you begged, shifting to the middle of the bed with your leg pushed up. Perfect.

“I know darling, just a minute sweetheart,” Jessie cooed, pushing your shirt up and kissing down your back softly. She bit her lip and got a little shy at the sight of a wet patch on your grey underwear, hooking her fingers on the thick band and pulling it off. Your hips lifted for her and for a second she thought you were awake but you only whined a little more and your eyes were still shut.

Her thick fingers dragged themselves through your slick folds and she smiled to herself, lathering what she gathered all over her cock. She sat on your leg and used her hand to keep your leg wide open for her. Her cock was thick and long, one that you took with ease and it never failed to make Jessie wetter than she had ever been in her life when you bottomed out on it.

“Easy baby, there you go angel,” Jessie muttered to herself more than you, guiding her cock right into your aching pussy. It swallowed her up and fluttered a little when she bottomed out, Jessie swore she saw you smirk a little in your sleep now that you were filled. She gave you a couple of seconds to adjust before taking matters into her own hands, hovering over you to thrust gently.  She knew you liked being asleep for as long as she could keep you that way, wanting nothing more than to wake up with sticky underwear and soreness that you could’ve sworn you didn’t go to bed with.

“Jessie,” you moaned, hips rolling back into her as she thrust slow but deep. Jessie tried her best to keep her composure but the way your ass looked and the little whine in your voice almost begging for her broke her focus.

She grabbed your hips and thrust in deep. She moaned as she fucked you, rousing you from your sleep. You were a deep sleeper, nothing could wake you in the mornings sometimes Jessie often resorted to a spray bottle with water she labeled with your name.

“You like that baby?” Jessie asked your sleepy form. She leaned over and pressed her lips to your ears, her Canadian accent slipping through as her hips picked up speed.

“What, is that what you pussy needed darling? Needed me to fuck your needy pussy, is that it?”

Your eyes shoot open and you struggle a little before realizing it’s Jessie, balls deep inside you fucking you awake.

“Jessie!”

“Been saying that a lot tonight, doll,” Jessie teased, kneeling behind you and gripping your hips to grind into you gently.

“When did you get back?” you ask, arching your down onto the mattress. Jessie audibly groans, thrusting a little faster.

“An hour ago,” Jessie answered, fingers digging into the meat of your hips. There were white streaks where she held you too tight and it sent a rush of blood that left a sultry tingle in your thighs. Jessie pushes you down fully, legs extending between her legs in a prone position. She pulls out and scoots down, spreading your ass and exposing your pussy. The sun is brighter now, light shining perfectly to cast an orange glow on your core. Jessie digs in, sloppily eating you out to her heart’s content. Her hands knead the flesh of your ass as she moans in pleasure, heart happy to have your taste on her tongue again.

“Fuck I missed you babygirl,” Jessie mumbles as she kisses up your back. You felt her cock poke at your entrance again and like a seamless machine your hips pressed up into her just as hers fucked into you. You both sighed deeply and you turned to look at Jessie, nodding for her to let loose.

“Use me, Jess,” you begged in your best slutty voice, “fuck me like you mean it.”

“Yes ma’am,” Jessie smirks, sitting on your thighs and fucking your pussy hard. She gives you no room to breathe, hips pounding deep into your cunt. Jessie gathers your hair into a ponytail and pulls you up by it, spanking your ass as she ruts deeper into you.  

“Use you like this, sweetheart?” she teases, letting go of your ponytail and pulling out again. She steps off the bed and pulls you to the edge, folding you onto your knees and pushing her cock into you swiftly.

“Yuh–yes!” you scream, feeling her cock thrust right into your sweet spot. She relishes in your vulnerability, angling her hips right into your bundle of nerves.

“Such a good girl, doll. Taking my cock so well,” Jessie praises, thrusting roughly into your pussy. She pulls out just a little and spits directly onto your asshole, two thick fingers pushing themselves into it.

“Fuck!” you moan, gripping the sheets tight. Jessie plants a foot on the bed and fucks her cock into you hard, fingers alternating with her hips. She spits into your winking asshole just a little more before pushing her fingers in, moaning as you take it so effortlessly.

“Just one question, my perfect girl,” Jessie begins, thrusting slow but deep into you. Her fingers in your ass scissored you open, a third finger forcing its way in as another blob of spit joins it.

“Fucked yourself on my cock plenty while I was gone?”

You look back at Jessie, the sun casting a glow around her toned body as your orgasm tugged at your navel. Jessie’s hips never once slowed down, her soccer stamina proving to be useful in scenarios like this one.

“Did you?” she asked, fucking into you hard and fast now that she knew you were getting close. She spanked your ass just as you screamed out your answer, cumming all over her cock and rhythmically clenching on her fingers.

“Fuck Jessie,” you breathe out as she pulls out and takes the harness off. Just as she’s about to pick you up and take you into the bathroom, your alarm goes off. She turns it off and smiles, pulling you into her arms.

“I think a day off is in order, princess.”

“Only if you give me the biggest kiss ever.”