#i have no idea what to call this au thing ive made

[ryssbelle]

Shockothan Dory

[nerosdayinanime]

"Im worried what people would think of you then, that you're just a personal whore or something- i don't want to ruin your reputation.."

"Are you kidding? 'My dick was so good i got promoted-' Thats the biggest flex i can think of!"

"Well, you're certaintly enthusiastic about this."

[sonknuxadow]

sorry if this comes off as mean but whenever people make horror inspired sonic content where the characters who arent particularly evil or scary in canon are the source of the horror i struggle to take it seriously and i just dont get the appeal at all. "what if sonic was a murderer" "what if tails was an evil scientist who tortured people" "what if amy was a yandere" what if they were all just fuzzy little animals who are best friends huh. ever considered that

[chisatowo]

Someone remind me tomorrow to continue reading sekai stories I cannot carry on like this exploding my unit swap 25ji ideas in my mind violently even though I'm thoroughly limited by the things I do not know

[shotmrmiller]

Needs must

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x F!Reader

WC: 2.1K

TW: prostitution, explicit fingering, and smut-ish.

ive got 4 other ideas for this goddamn escort au and one of em is MY BOY JOHNNY. oof i cant wait. im mad it took me this long to do this. I wrote this listening to rich sex by nicki minaj.

You had needs. No matter how magical, a toy can only do so much for you. You wanted the praise of another human being—the warm touch of their hands around your waist, your neck. God, you needed to get laid. But after the disaster that was your last relationship, how nasty it ended, you couldn’t even ring your ex-girlfriend up for a booty call. 

Sucking your teeth, you look at your phone. Noon. Well, maybe one of your friends you’re about to meet up with for a weekly Saturday brunch knew someone who would be interested in a no-strings-attached situationship.

—

Flipping the card in your hands,  you chewed on your bottom lip in deliberation and looked down at the business card— the color of bone with raised black lettering. Ghost, it read, with his number on the back. How you ended up with this in your hand made you almost regret having reprobates for friends. An escort. That’s what they had shamelessly suggested. You had almost choked on your eggs benedict when one of them pulled out a contact card from their wallet and placed it by your mimosa. I mean, really. Preparing to argue about their lack of sense, they brought up a great point. It was either this, someone who was there for what you needed whenever you needed it, or your toys which were in a pathetic state from constant use. Your ex called it quits because you simply couldn't find the time to maintain a proper relationship— your demanding job took up most of it. You couldn’t believe you were about to do this.

Ghost. What a name. But you suppose it didn’t matter what his name was, only that he could do his job, and with the way your friend gushed over him— he’d leave you walking side to side. You needed this. You worked too hard for too many hours to not spend your money on some self-care. 

Fuck it. Maybe he will be just a one-time thing, you thought, and sent his number a text. 

—

Closing the door of your car, you briskly walk towards the small cafe Ghost had sent the address to; A cute little quaint coffee shop. Coming to a stop, you straighten your office skirt and run a hand through your hair before opening the door. Breathing in the coffee aroma, you look around for who you’re looking for, spotting him sitting in the back. The click of your heels echoes inside the cafe, catching the attention of your awaiting companion. He looks up and rises to stand, and it takes you aback. It was like witnessing a grizzly standing on its hind legs. Jesus.

He was tall, so tall, and broad. Wearing a black beanie and covering the lower half of his face with a mask, he extends his arm out to shake your hand, and you internally scream at how shapely his arm alone looks over his long-sleeved shirt. 

“I’m Ghost. It’s a pleasure, love.” 

Choking back a moan at his accent, you put your hand in his and say, “No, I’m sure it’ll be all mine.” You can see his dark eyes crinkle at your quip. 

“If we get through this smoothly, the next time we meet I’ll make sure of it.” 

As you let out a playful laugh, Ghost reaches for the back of your chair, pulling it out with a chivalrous gesture. “And a gentleman? You definitely know how to sell yourself.” 

“No, love. This is just a common courtesy. I don’t need t’tell you that I’m good,” and in one smooth motion, he extracts a sleek, forest green matte folder from the leather business bag lying at his feet.

“I need this filled out, just the usual— hard and soft limits. Safewords, nicknames, allergies, and so on.” You pick up the folder and open it, skimming over the contents of the front page. 

“This really is your job.” You flick your eyes from the folder to him and he’s already looking at you, watchful and steady. 

“O’ course it is. I take my clients, and future clients, seriously. I enjoy wha’ I do but it will never be at the cost of another. I will not make you uncomfortable in any way, nor risk your health. I aim to please you, not the other way around. And I cannot do tha’ if I don’t know tha’ you’re allergic to latex or completely against something I might do.” 

He gives a slight cough, and you divert your attention from the paper and meet his gaze. “What’s a pretty thing like you seeking out someone who offers these types of services?” and a lighthearted chuckle escapes you.

“The same reason the one who gave me your card did— just looking for a good time, no commitment.” 

He raises his eyebrows at that but makes no further comment. Smart man. Glancing at your wrist, you check the time. “Right,” and lean forward to get up when Ghost shoots up from his chair to pull out yours. “I’ll have your folder ready for you by the weekend,” and turn your head to face him.

“Is that when you’ll want this, then?” and you give a casual shrug. 

“If you happen to be available.” He reaches out and gently grabs your hand to pull you in for a tight embrace. Softly, he whispers in your ear, “I’ll be seeing you then, love.”

You leave with a silly little grin on your face.

—

The weekend comes and you’re a puddle of nerves. You can’t remember the last time someone made you this anxious. The knock on your door startles you out of your inner ramblings. It’s time. Taking in a deep, calming breath, you open it. 

Ghost calmly walks in, and starts taking off his mask, and then leather jacket.

“I’ve one absolute limit I forgot to mention,” he says in a firm tone. “I do not kiss. It is not a negotiation.” 

Well, you couldn’t give a damn if he didn’t. Nonchalantly, you shrug and say, “And mine is that we always use a condom.” With a nod and a chuckle, he eagerly grabs the folder from your table and starts flipping through its pages.

“A’right, love. Go get on the bed f’me.” The smirk he gives you is positively wicked. “I saw tha’ you have like to be told wha’ to do.” He jerks his chin towards your room. “And take everything off.” With nervous excitement, you run off, haphazardly tossing your clothes on the floor.

—

Eyes covered with a blindfold, all you hear is your shaky breathing and his footsteps on your plush rug. Your nerves feel exposed, raw. As you lie on the bed, you suddenly feel a firm grip on the flesh of your thighs, causing your skin to break out in goosebumps. The room's cool air contrasts with the warm heat radiating from his touch, pulling a hiss from your lips as he pulls you toward the edge of the bed.

“Atta girl, love. Open your legs f’me, lemme see that pretty pussy.” The lack of eyesight helps you to focus on his touch alone, making you fearless, and your legs drop open without hesitation as you lie on your back.

“Look at tha’. Aren’t you just a dream? Hm?” he puts his hands on your knees, keeping your thighs open, wet cunt exposed. “And you waxed, too. Hope tha’ wasn’t f’me.” You feel a fingertip slide from your hood, down to your clit and hole, spreading your juices around the labia and back up. Your nerves are on fire, your pussy clenching around nothing, forcing juices to drip down to your arsehole.

“A’right, pretty. Touch yourself. Shove your tiny little fingers into your,” he pauses to suck the skin of your inner thigh, “cunt and show me how to make you feel good.” He then moves his mouth closer to where you need it most, and bites. Are you defying me? Did you suddenly become deaf as well, once I blindfolded you?” and you aggressively shake your head. 

“No! No, sir. I hear you, loud and clear.” With a tight squeeze to your thighs, he says, “Then do as I say.” Moaning, you slowly bring your hand down, starting from your chest. Your palms rub against your pebbled nipples, down to your soft stomach, until your fingertips meet your swollen nub, then move in soft, tight circles, mewling at the feeling. The groan that reaches your ears is so lewd, you could come from that alone. 

“Tha’s it, baby. You’re doing so well. Look at how wet you are, fuck, show me just how you like it.” And you do. A vulgar noise comes from your hole once you stuff yourself with one finger, slowly stretching, before adding another. It’s something, but not enough, not what you want. Not thick enough, long enough, and that thought makes you whimper in disappointment. 

“Aw, are your fingers not satisfying? I’ll help you, sweet, only because you look so delicious spread out f’me like this. So vulnerable, bare.” His breath fans over your cunt, over your clit, and it sends a jolt up your spine— but he doesn’t move, doesn’t touch. It feels like you’ve been waiting for hours until he finally, finally, pushes a thick finger into you, and curls it, rubbing against the right spot, over and over, and then pushes in a second, threatening to tip you over the peak. The feeling is intense —your walls clench around him firmly in your rising pleasure.

“Oh, g-god, Ghost pleasepleaseplease,” squealing as you fuck yourself on his hand, and when your hypersensitive nerves pick up on the sensation of his scorching mouth on your clit, with a pulsating suction, your muscles tighten and tremble, to the point of pain, until Ghost gives one hard suck, forcibly pushing you off the edge. The wail you let out is ear-splitting— as ecstasy slams into your body, like waves crashing at shore. Your thighs squeeze Ghost’s head irrationally tight, but he doesn’t care, just groaning into your core, lapping up your juices like a dehydrated man who’s found an oasis. Your body stings— prickles from the vicious high you’re riding—chest heaving with sobs from the sheer force of it, fingernails digging into Ghost’s scalp, yanking on his hair. As your soul melts back into your body, you absentmindedly thank all the bloody gods for having friends who really do look out for you. 

Whimpering pathetically, your limbs go limp, loose, heavy. Ghost easily picks your body up and moves you toward the center of the bed, vertically, the blindfold still robbing you of your vision. 

 With a grunt of effort, his hand firmly settles by your ribcage, sinking into the softness of the bed, and then he slips a folded pillow beneath your hipbones, expertly arching your spine into a delicious angle. His hand firmly connects with your rear, not just once but twice, feeling the exquisite sting of it. The room falls into silence, only to be interrupted by the clinking sound of his belt buckle. Your body tenses as you hear the unmistakable sound of plastic being torn open, and then you feel his thick and warm shaft teasing your entrance. A moan escapes your lips as he penetrates you, his movements slow and sensual, until his hipbones press against your backside. Taking his time, he slowly pulls back his length, dragging it against your slick walls, before pushing forward again, covering your body with his own. His right hand is flat on the bed by your right shoulder, while his left curls around your neck, gently forcing your head to tilt back onto him. The tip of his head grinds against the entrance of your womb. 

He moans softly into your ear, before quietly purring, “Let’s see how many more orgasms I can wring out of you, pet.” The tightening of his makeshift necklace around your throat is your first and last warning of what is to come.

—

He pulled four. Four gut-wrenching, shattering orgasms before finding his own release. He left you a drooling, sloppy, sweaty mess on your bed, completely languid and relaxed. Somewhere, you faintly hear your phone ping with a notification. Hissing as you get up, you limp to your living room, and see it on the sofa. Unlocking it, you see that it’s Ghost, sending you his Cash App information. Holding in a chickle, you send him his money and wait for his confirmation. 

It was a real pleasure, doll. Let me know when you need me again.

Cackling to yourself, you place your phone back on the table. 

Bastard. 

He knows you’ll definitely be seeing him again.

[swordsmans]

oh shit! i made a book.

remember back in september when i said i was going to learn bookbinding. well! weeks of trial and error later, i've finally finished my very first bind! as some of you might have seen in past posts, i decided to focus on my 90k zolu mermaid/mafia au the sea makes bones of bodies and now here we are!

the bind itself is a relatively simple 320 page cased-in flatback with a fabric spine and lotka paper covers and endsheets, but i decided to use it as a "test book" to learn a little bit of everything. so! it features hand-traced gold foil on the cover and spine, a hand-beaded bookmark tipped with a genuine shark tooth (iykyk), and what im calling "cookies and cream" speckled edges (lol)

ive posted some screenshots of the typeset already so i wont go too crazy, but im actually pretty happy with how it looked all put together!! i sewed my signatures together too tightly, i think, so it kind of wants to flop closed (rip) but i tried to take some pictures of how it turned out!

i have a ton of pictures of the text body itself (and fun things like the playlist page, the title pages, etc) but this post is already long enough, haha.

the absolute best, best, best part of this whole project was a huge, wonderful, amazing surprise from @fluffyartbl0g that brought the whole project together!!! they were sweet enough to send some incredible art (!!!!) that i sewed into the front and back!!!

!!! AAA!!!!

overall, i learned so much and i took a ton of notes so i'll (hopefully) avoid some of my beginner mistakes when i do this again. i already have three more versions of the text block printed out and pressing right now! >:3c im going to keep practicing with this story for at least three more binds (because i want to get my technique down and i have some new ideas i want to try), and then switch to typsetting ocean theology and attempt a thinner 40k bind.

shoutout to renegade publishing for their wealth of technical help, and a big huge thank you to the dumbass zone for watching blurry videos of me flipping through printer paper at 3AM and just generally being so, so supportive while i learned all these new skills. you guys are the best!!

now... on to the next one!

EDIT: i've been asked for the typeset, so if you are interested in binding this yourself, you can find all the files here!! :D if you do make your own copy, i would love to see!!! PLEASE TAG MEEE!!!! :DDD

[hazybisou]

STALKING IS ILLEGAL KID! | LUKE HUGHES

pairing: f!reader x luke hughes

overview: week 1: luke tries to get y/n to agree to go on a date with him (as if she doesn’t know who he is and the reputation he and the team holds throughout umich) despite her suspicions against the whole scenario.

o. i. ii. iii. iv. v. vi. au masterlist

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

she felt weird.

everywhere she went, there was always someone (or more) watching. y/n didn’t know why, she just simply chose to ignore it.

so as she made her way out of the library , she couldn’t help but notice a group of guys looking at her from a table in the corner. they turned their heads away as soon as she looked at them. she’s seen their faces around campus. she knew who they were. so why did she ignore them? simple. y/n knew better than to get involved with umich hockey team.

jess had told her about the people she should and shouldn’t be near. one of them including the whole team. it wasn’t anything bad but it was more of a “unless-you-want-to-deal-with-those-idiots-and-their-ways-i-suggest-you-stay-away” type of talk.

y/n couldn’t help but feel annoyed and roll her eyes. this has been going on for the past few days. one of them was always staring her down as she walked by. she was sick of it.

she stood there for a minute thinking of her next decision and if it would be wise and careful. “i’m sick of this shit so fuck it.” she whispered to herself.

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

the four boys didn’t notice she had caught them. they were too engrossed in their own conversation (revolving around her obviously) to even look up. they had been coming up for a way for luke to ask her out or somewhat get to know her.

for the past 5 days, ever since the party, that’s all they’ve been doing. planning. scheming. plotting. whatever you wanna call it, it’s all they’ve doing.

“what if you like accidentally bump into her.” dylan suggested with a shrug. “it’s cliche but it could work.”

luke just shook his head. “no way is that happening.” he sighed. “this is pointless. we’ve ran out of ideas. i mean it’s already bad enough i agreed to doing this shit but-”

he got interrupted.

“can i help you?”

they four looked up to find the girl staring down at them.

“i’m sorry?” mark questioned.

“well considering the fact that you’ve been staring at me for a while now, you tell me.” she remarked.

luke cringed and closed his eyes as he realized they had all been caught. they didn’t mean to stare, really they hadn’t, but they did. maybe it was curiosity that got the best of them.

“oh we weren’t-”

she just laughed. “you weren’t what? looking? you know i’m starting to think you all have a problem with me or something.”

everyone somehow turned to look at luke for a second. he just gave them a look in return as to say ‘what?’.

“jess was right. you guys are weird.”

that had confirmed their assumptions. she was jess’s new roommate.

mackie asked, “you know jess?”

she nodded. “she’s my roommate. who has told me what i need to know.”

luke perked up at that statement. “what exactly has she told you?”

“wouldn’t you like to know?” dylan leaned over and said in a low voice so only luke could hear.

luke elbowed him in the rib. “shut the hell up.” he responsed in a whisper before turning back towards the girl.

“not much. just how you’re all self centered dickheads who think way too highly of themselves and need an ego check. you know, the small things.”

fucking jess.

mark turned to her. “do you believe her?”

“i’m starting too.” she said. she was about to turn around before pausing and looking back at them. “don’t let me catch you staring again. it’s creepy.” with that, she turned and walked off towards the entrance.

“bro, go talk to her.” mackie suggested as he gestured to the girl who was walking away.

luke quickly got up and began to jog over in order to catch up to her. he began to slow down as he was right behind her. “hey.”

she paused. “what do you want now?” she turned around and crossed her arms.

“i just wanted to um-i wanted to ask if-can i have your number?” luke got out.

y/n furrowed her eyebrows at the question. “yeah no. especially after what just happened back there.” she took a step. “and i don’t even know your name.”

you idiot. who asks for a girls number without giving them your name first?? she already thinks you’re weird.

is what luke thought to himself as he squeezed his eyes shut.

“it’s luke.”

“maybe next time, luke.”

and with that, she walked away.

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

it was a thursday morning and y/n was out, shopping at a strip mall. she and jess had decided to look for new clothes for the spring that was to come in two months.

“hey jess, how about this?” y/n said as she held up a navy blue halter top that had a lace trim to her body.

she turned around to hoping to find jess.

she didn’t.

rather she were met with luke’s tall, lanky, figure.

“i think it looks great.” he responded, a hand in his pocket while the other was pointing to the top. “although i’m sure i’m not the person you were hoping to ask.”

“nooooo, really?” y/n said, sarcasm obviously laced in her voice.

luke smiled and nodded his head.

“where is jess?” she asked as she started to look around, hoping to get out of this situation.

“i don’t know. she saw me and waved and wondered off.” he shrugged.

“thanks, that was very helpful.”

“i know right. i’m such great help.”

“asshole.” she whispered to herself.

“what was that? i couldn’t quite hear you.” luke questioned as he leaned down to her height and put a hand behind his ear, signifying he was listening. she didn’t know why but she somehow found that attractive.

“nothing.” she quickly replied. luke had a smug look on his face. “move, i’m going to find jess.” she muttered as she pushed past luke and began to walk to a different aisle she thought (hoped) jess would be in.

luke stood there, dumbfounded, before he turned around and began to walk with her. “you know we should hang out. grab dinner, talk, get to know each other..” he trailed off and y/n just scoffed and turned around.

“why are you talking to me?” the girl suddenly inquired.

luke was taken aback.

“what?”

“why are you talking me?” she repeated. “i mean i don’t even know you, apart from the fact that your name is luke and you play for the school’s hockey team, but other than that, i don’t, i’m literally talking to a stranger right now.”

luke half smiled. “since when is talking to a pretty girl like yourself, illegal?”

she shouldn’t have blushed at that comment but she did any way. luke seemed to have noticed as he let out a small chuckle.

“that still didn’t answer my question.” she quipped back.

“well, i want to get to know you. i saw you one day and couldn’t help but think, ‘god, she’s beautiful’ so why not talk to you?”

y/n rolled her eyes. “you’re a weird dude, you know that?” he smiled sheepishly.

“i’m gonna go find jess.” she said. “hopefully the next time i see you, it’s when we’re out of college.” she told him as she walked away, a small sway in her hips.

luke stood there, a smile on his face before he turned around to exit the store.

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

the next day, y/n was at work at a local diner across the street from campus. she had an afternoon shift from 5:30 pm to 10:00 pm. pop had asked her if she could close the diner which she had agreed to. so here she stood, bent over slightly, as she wiped down the booth table at the end of the aisle of booths.

the lyrics to an old song from the 70’s came form the jukebox on the opposite end of the diner and had reached their way to her ears. she had began to sing the lyrics quietly to herself.

there was only a couple, a regular who was a sweet old man named tom, and her co-worker, pop (also known as the owner of the diner) left. he was 52 years old and was still running the place. in y/n’s eyes, he’s a second father to her. he always took care of her and had great advice.

she suddenly heard the bell above the door ring, signaling someone had walked in. although closing time wasn’t until 10:00, she had decided to start getting the place ready for close up time by wiping the countertops and tables.

“sorry, we’re closed.” she announced to whoever had walked in, not even bothering to look up y the table.

“doesn’t seem like it to me.” an, oh, so familiar voice said.

y/n paused her movements as she looked up from where she was busy cleaning, to find the infamous luke hughes, standing at the entrance.

y/n put the rag over her shoulder and walked towards the counter, getting behind it to take luke’s order. “stalking is illegal ya know?” she stated. “no matter where i am, you’re always right behind me.”

luke just rolled his eyes and scoffed as he took a seat on the barstool closest to her. “i’m not stalking you.”

“then how’d you figure out where i work?” she responded as she closed the cashier.

“don’t worry about it.” he waved off.

y/n squinted at him. “you asked jess, didn’t you?”

“no.”

she gave him a raised eyebrow.

“maybe.”

y/n groaned and just grabbed her notepad she used to take orders. “well you’re here now, might as well take your order. what can i get for you?” she asked as she put on a fake smile.

“i’ll take two vanilla milkshakes, please.” luke said and she wrote his order down.

y/n looked up from notepad. “is that all?” she asked the boy. he nodded his head and y/n ripped the paper out. “i’ll be back with your shakes.”

she walked over towards the small window that looked into the kitchen. “order in pop!” she exclaimed as she slid the paper over to the man who took it and began to look at it.

“two vanilla milkshakes? for that lonely fella?” pop questioned as he looked over to luke who was looking around. “is he your boyfriend or somethin’?”

“i barely know the kid. we’ve only talked twice.” y/n said as she held up two fingers.

pop just shook his head and smiled. “he seems like a good kid.”

“i guess. you know he asked me out the other day?” pop raised his eyebrows in amusement. she laughed. “i don’t know. he just did.”

“and you said no?”

“well yeah. what am i supposed to say? you can’t know someone for two days and ask them out. that’s weird.” y/n stated. “and not very proper.”

“he probably likes you.” pop suggested.

“la la la la la la! no! don’t go there!” she told him as she pointed a finger at him. “no.”

he just laughed before he backed up slightly. “i’ll be back with your order.” he said. “for now..go talk to him.” y/n just shook her head.

she walked back to the counter and got to work. tom had paid already, but he had decided to stay for a little longer. she looked over and noticed he had begun to grab the newspaper and his bag. he got up and walked towards the counter. “i’ll see you tomorrow tom?”

“sadly, no. charlotte’s coming down from wisconsin for her birthday.” he replied back with a smile on his face at the mention of his granddaughter.

“oh tell her i said happy birthday.”

“i will. goodbye, y/n.” he waved towards the girl.

“bye tom!” y/n waved back as he left the building, the bell ringing.

she went back to the cashier as the couple came up to pay for their food. she handed them their cash before waving goodbye as they also exited, the bell ringing once again.

“so i was thinking,” luke started.

“i forgot you were still here.”

luke just shushed her. “as i was saying, i was thinking of heading to the beach tomorrow.” luke continued. “and i was wondering if you wanted to come with me? that way we can get to know each other.”

“luke seriously, what is it with you and trying to get me to go somewhere with you?” y/n stated.

“what? you don’t trust me?” luke asked.

“it’s not that i don’t trust you, which i don’t, it’s just that we’ve only known each other for two days and you already want to take me out when i don’t even know you.”

“well then this is your chance to get to know me better.” luke explained.

“you won’t give up till i say yes, will you?”

“mhm.”

“no.” she bluntly answered.

“oh, come on y/n! let me get to know you. learn more about you. you seem like a nice person. it’s obvious from the way you are with strangers and customers.” he whined.

“it’s called having manners.”

“please? just one time.”

“if i say yes to going, will you leave me alone?”

luke perked up at the question. “yes! i promise! you just say yes and i’ll leave you alone afterwards if you want me to.”

“promise?”

“promise. i’ll even lock pinkys with you.” he replied.

“okay.” y/n said.

“okay? as in you’ll go with me tomorrow?” he repeated.

she nodded. “okay, as in i’ll go with you tomorrow as long as you leave me alone later.”

a big smile appeared on luke’s face. “thank you! you’re the best.” he exclaimed before he got up and took his wallet out. he pulled out a twenty before placing it on the counter.

she grabbed it and held it up. “what the hell?”

“for the milkshakes.” he explained.

“oh.”

“okay i’ll uh, i’ll see you tomorrow.” he rushed out before he turned around and began to walk towards the door before he suddenly paused and turned around. “i need your number.”

“oh.” y/n muttered. “um, give me your phone.” she said as she stuck out her hand. he fished his phone out of his pocket before unlocking it and handing it to her. she opened his contacts and added a new contact before typing her number in. “here. text me which one, and at what time.”

“ok i will. bye!” he rushed out. “oh and by the way, you look cute in your uniform.” he told her before turning around and leaving the diner, a slight breeze making its way in.

y/n felt her face get hot and she couldn’t help but smile before it quickly disappeared, reminding herself to not get excited over a boy.

“order is served.” pop said as he placed two milkshakes on the windowsill.

“sorry pop, he just left. but at least he payed his debts.” y/n stated as she held up the twenty dollar bill before placing it back on the countertop.

pop just smiled. “free milkshake?” he said as he held on up towards her.

a smile crept up onto her face. “duh. let me just lock the door.”

so like this is probably the most i’ve ever written in general which is fun. this took me like 8 days to write and it honestly sucks BOOTY!! but like it’s 1 in the morning right now and i’m low on energy so it makes sense? i think. also next chapter is js gonna be the beach “date”?? and some other stuff so be prepared for that. now i will be going to sleep bc i have to deal with children tmrw morning starting at 8:30. (why did i agree to helping out with summer school?? i don’t even know y) goodnight lovelies 🫶🫶

[themaclean]

hi i just came from ao3 and firstly, i have read ur vaultghoul fic probably 20 times already it’s just so good with spot on characterization and amazing writing, thank u so much 🙏

secondly, i was reading the comments on it and came across one abt wanting to see a pre-war au where cooper and lucy start an affair and immediately my ears perked up like 👀 all i could imagine is her being cast as his love interest, her being a big fan of his already, and them having a wedding scene where they fuck in her wedding dress after they call cut

n e way so sorry for rambling haha but unfortunately ive got the brainrot now

I MEAN HYPOTHETICALLY -- I'm mobile (and somehow wrote 2k words still wheeze) so I'll finish this when I'm on my PC but I played around with the idea a bit thanks to this ask. :)

...

Summary; Cooper Howard x Lucy MacLean, 2077 AU where Lucy and Cooper star in a movie together.

...

There's a whole host of ways that Vault-Tec could have cracked down on Cooper. Given the infringement of their security protocols and the divorce and the way they choked him out of all the good roles...

It wasn't such a far stretch that he'd have to take place in the biggest circle jerk of a film production where his super-fan shoved his daughter into a starring role using Cooper's connections.

Because, so far as the public knew, he was still a supporter of Vault-Tec and he'd do just about anything to sell that delusion.

Cooper crushed the heel of his palms against his eyes, a limp cigarette hung between his teeth.

The girl was a nightmare.

Stiff, picky, absent-minded. No emotion, either, no semblance of self-awareness. It was like some Disney Princess popped out of the cartoons in the worst way, quick to parrot the lines she was meant to say with perfect diction but nothing more than that.

And it was somehow his fucking job to coach the girl -- Lucy -- into a leading lady. The idea was that she was the daughter of the Overseer, played by her actual father, and Cooper was some vault dweller from another section.

The whole thing was convoluted. He did cowboy flicks and the sort that had a showdown at the end. This sci-fi garbage went right over his head, this future projection of the what-if. He didn't have time for the what-if.

He had a daughter he needed to vy for custody of and an expensive divorce on the horizon. And Barb had the best lawyers money could buy and he'd never thought they'd end up like this. There was no pre-nup and nothing to protect him.

And he didn't have a goddamn lighter.

"You shouldn't smoke."

Cooper near growled around the butt of his cigarette, only just keeping himself civil at the last moment. He turned towards Lucy, unable to mistake her for anyone else. There was something about her vacant, pretty face that irked him, those giant goddamn eyes.

"It's bad for you. I read an article about it."

"Maybe you'd be better off reading your lines again," Cooper said with a wave of his hand. He dug in his jacket pocket, the one he'd worn to set.

Bingo.

Lucy crossed her arms and leaned against the vault railing. It was strange to do the filming down, a hundred feet or so beneath the surface, but it made for impressive sets. They were around the corner from the rest of the camera crew and cast.

And they were alone for the first time since shooting. Most times, Cooper had a few stage hands or interns at his heel. And he didn't see Lucy around much, except for scenes. Didn't chase her down, didn't much think of her.

Except now he's aware she's still in the wedding dress she'd been in earlier. Stage blood soaked the stomach of it, thick streams of blood from where she'd been stabbed. But he'd saved her and they'd shared a chaste kiss for the camera.

And then he hadn't seen her.

"I thought you'd be a better kisser."

Cooper didn't withhold the glare, couldn't bring himself to give a fuck. "Pardon?"

"Just -- the kiss. Didn't really..." Lucy narrowed her eyes at him. "I grew up watching your movies. My dad is a big fan. I always figured you'd be a good kisser, but you aren't."

"You ain't much yourself, either," Cooper said with a raised brow. "Like a fish, sweetheart. Cold."

"I'm not a fish," she snapped back. "That's very mean. I -- I know I was mean first but I just thought you could do better."

Cooper couldn't help but laugh to himself at this miserable brat who'd sought him out to complain about an on-screen kiss. He took a long drag, his gaze slanted across the backs of his knuckles.

"You're here 'cause your daddy yanked some strings," Cooper shrugged a shoulder. "My only obligation is to make a movie for the studio. I'm not your damn boyfriend-for-hire, trying to get you off for the cameras."

Cooper was a professional and on his best behaviour -- usually. But the long days of filming for a corporation rooted in the exploitation of the country he'd fought for... That patience wore thinner with each moment he was alone with this brat.

"I'm here as an actress -- "

"You can act?" Cooper asked, mock surprise as he pressed a hand to his chest.

Lucy had the gall to look offended.

Cooper took another drag, his hip notched against the railing. "It's a movie, darling. I've been doing this shit for years. They ain't gonna let people tongue each other to high hell."

"That..."

"That is exactly how it works," Cooper said as he ashed his cigarette onto the grate beneath his feet. "It's not about you, it's about the shot."

Lucy looked at him like he'd slapped her. "I know it's about the shot."

"Could've fooled me." Cooper huffed out a breath. He'd kissed plenty of women for his films and he was a consummate professional. If the audience bought into it, that was all he needed. He didn't give a damn if his co-star got butterflies over it.

Especially not the daughter of some jackass at Vault-Tec, for a project that was nothing more than an empty propaganda piece. But he didn't have much choice.

"I'm here because it's important to my father. Vault-Tec wanted to keep as many roles as they could within the company -- "

"Nepotism."

"To promote the culture they want within the movie, which is carefully curated -- "

"Cultish."

"To their... Could you stop doing that?"

Cooper crossed his arms, his cigarette nearly finished. The vault had good enough ventilation that the smoke disappeared but the smell lingered. He pushed away from the railing, his expensive smile slack across his lips.

"I had my fill of the Vault-Tec propaganda, sweetheart. Don't make a difference if it's from a pamphlet or a pretty girl, I'm just doing what I'm being paid to."

"Wasn't it your wife -- ex-wife -- who brought you in originally?"

Cooper's neck twitched as he looked down at Lucy, as she smart-mouthed her way right into some shit she didn't know anything about. He tipped his head to the side, the annoying collar of the vault suit biting into his jawline.

"So you believed what Vault-Tec thought originally." Lucy toyed with the stain on her white dress, her fingers tugged at the frayed edge. "What changed?"

"Nothing," Cooper said, his voice flat.

Lucy met his eye, her head tilted to contrast the angle of his head. She settled a hand on the railing, uncertainty replaced her uppity edge from before. "I'm not trying to spy on you or get information. You just -- had your life together, and then you're getting divorced."

"It happens," Cooper said, aware now that she was between him and the crew. The vault split into spidery webs in all directions, though. He could leave her if he wanted. But then he'd end up who knows where, deep in the belly of this steel nest.

But they were alone, and she'd inched closer to him.

Cooper saw the leading ladies he worked with as colleagues. Sometimes they'd have to kiss or imitate gentle moments or intimacy -- but for the most part, he could compartmentalise it. But Lucy didn't act. She couldn't. She was an atrocious leading lady and she read everything as if she were saying it herself.

Like a porn actress, saying shit to get through to the action, rushing through the writing like it didn't matter.

It wasn't her fault. He had the sneaking suspicious she had no interest in acting or in this movie; that she was only doing it because her father asked her to do it. Maybe even so she could have an excuse to meet him, he realized dimly as she looked up at him with wide hazel eyes.

That separation -- of leading lady and of a romantic partner -- muddled with her. Because he didn't even like her. He didn't want to get to know her. He hated her father and he wanted nothing to do with this company.

And she was closer to him than not, and they'd kissed a handful of times, and she'd said he sucked at it.

Cooper rolled his jaw as Lucy didn't have the guts to do more than she had. Her moony eyes fixed up at him like a challenge. And then he felt his resolve snap because it wasn't like he had much to lose. This wasn't a real acting gig and she wasn't a real leading lady.

His hand snapped out, fingers and thumb dug into her cheek. He brought her close, to see what she'd do. The answer was -- not much. She didn't shout or push him away, their mouths inches apart as he hovered close to her, examining her beneath his lashes.

"Bad kisser -- that what you said?"

Lucy swallowed hard enough to nudge his hand. "Well, you were. I'm not going to lie to you to spare your ego."

Cooper made a soft sound from the back of his throat as he kissed her. The distant crack and shift of the crew as they moved their cameras from one vault room to another should be a deterent but Cooper doesn't care.

He's single, isn't he. Has been for a few months. He'd not acted on it, hadn't felt the urge to, but he's as trapped as ever in the shadow of what Barb had done to him. It's only fair he make use of that shadow to indulge, even if it's just to prove a point to this girl Lucy.

There's some inherent amusement to how she melted into the kiss. She wanted it far more than she'd let on, that soft mewing, moaning neediness as he stroked her long brown hair out of her face. He threaded his fingers softly through her hair, hand on either side of her face, fingers combing through her hair.

Her back was arched over the railing as he gave her the kiss she'd probably expected earlier, the one he wasn't about to throw out on camera. There's standards for cinema and he didn't want to waste film or time.

But then her fingers were on the zipper of the stupid fucking vault suit. He didn't stop her, even as she yanked it down and slipped her hand along his stomach.

If anything, he pushed harder against her. The fluffy white skirt of her wedding dress made it hard to get much for himself. But with a yank of her knee and the shift of her weight, he had her seated on the railing. Her shoulder caught one of the metal frames, to keep her pinned in place.

If this were any other job or any other actress, he'd give a fuck.

But it's Vault-Tec, through and through.

[kyuusberry]

kitty | ive liz - oneshot

pairing: gf!liz x gn!reader

genre/theme: fluff, non idol au

warnings: none

ib: nothing

notes: all of my stories, oneshots, drabbles, ect are all fiction (fake/made up) except for the idols!! my stories do not depict how these idols actually act or their sexual orientation (straight, lesbian, gay, bisexual, aromantic, ect). the only time you'll ever read semi-true things is if it's my headcanons then i do use some facts from kprofiles and sometimes youtube videos but that's it.

a/n: special ive oneshot series because i'm seeing them on the 16th <3 they won't be in order by age, just by whoever i want! link to all of the parts will be here!

cis men, homophobes, racists, 20+, smut accounts dni

liz gasped, "look at him! the cat is so cute!" she smiled, looking at a small, gray-ish cat named seok.

"he is cute," you smiled.

you, and your girlfriend liz were at a pet shelter, just looking around and playing with the animals there. liz always said she didn't want to adopt, but you could tell she did. she always liked helping the staff out with the animals, it made her happy.

you liked seeing her happy, and that was usually when you took her to an animal shelter. and today, that's exactly what you did. but what she didn't know was that you took her to the shelter today to see which animal she took the most interest in so you could adopt the animal tomorrow and surprise her.

obviously, she didn't suspect anything because you two go to the shelters so often together, she thought you were just taking her because she was really excited to go to the shelter again that weekend. the only hard part was that she took interest in every animal there. you had no idea which one she would like the most.

liz gasped again, breaking your train of thought, "babe! look at the cute pug! she's so tiny!" she cooed, petting the puppy and giving her a treat before leaving.

you laughed a little, "i can see that, love."

when you two left the shelter, she was pretty upset, but you took her to her favorite ice cream parlor before heading back home. by the time you got back, you were sure which animal you were gonna get her. that small, gray-ish cat. sol? sun? no- it was seok. that was the cat's name.

the next morning, you said you were going to go on your daily morning jog, but that was a lie. you went back to the shelter to get seok. you bought him online the night before, when liz was asleep. you felt bad for lying to her, but it was a surprise, you kind of had to.

"thank you for purchasing seok. he just got here not too long ago, so he is still a little feisty, but don't worry too much. we've trained him and helped him get used to humans the past couple months he's been here," the lady at the desk smiled.

you had seok in your arms, petting him and smiling, "thank you as well. see you soon," you set seok in his pet carrier, waved and left.

there was no traffic that day, so it only took you about 8 minutes to get back home. you opened the door and softly set the cage down. thankfully, liz was in your shared bedroom so she couldn't see.

"liz! come here, i have a surprise for you!" you called out and liz came out pretty quickly.

"close your eyes and hold out your arms for me, love."

she did as she was asked and felt something somewhat heavy and fluffy in her arms, "what is this?" she laughed.

"open your eyes."

when she opened her eyes, she was excited, happy, and shocked all at once, "you bought me a cat?! seok from the shelter yesterday! oh my gosh, thank you so much!" her eyes were tearing up and she gently set the cat down on the couch before hugging you tightly.

"this is the best gift ever, thank you y/n," she cried.

you hugged her back, "of course, my love. i love you," you whispered in her ear.

[cherubispunk]

UP IN YOUR ARMS (CHAPTER ONE) -Noir!Joel Miller x AFAB!Reader

summary: The Canary Club. Illicit. Underground. Dangerous too. But nowhere near as dangerous the affair you and Joel start there.

a note from Lucy: chapter one! I'm digging my own grave here. thats all im saying. i promise it is focused on joel and the reader later in the chapter. im just setting the scene for differnt relationships in the series.

playlist

wc: 6969 (haha lol) Warnings: 18+ MDNI! DARK CONTENT! 1940s!au, no outbreak, no use of y/n, age gap (reader is in her early 20’s and Joel is in his 40s), smut. p in v sex, oral - f receiving, oral through panties, choking, groping, sexism, mentions of racism, touch starved joel, me being back on my bullshit, drinking, ,smoking, throwing fists because men are stoopid and cant talk things out, cheating on the readers part, but joel knows this and still fucks her like the horny bastad he is. *sigh*, use of pet names such as doll, cursing, ww2 references, an unhealthy relationship between reader and joel, mentions of blood, let me know if ive missed any warning out that should be tagged. 6969 words of unedited bullshit because im piss drunk and cant for the life of me edit.

series m.list | m.list

The jazz band was one of the finest groups in the city. ‘Only the finest for The Canary Club’, as Johnny had put it. 

Johnny Boy Finnick. 

Now he was a man. Played sports in college, muscular, strong arms that pinned you to the wall or mattress or table. Hands that shuffled playing cards with ease and had you screaming far after the night was over. Deep blue eyes and blonde hair that never fell out of place from its slicked back style. Not even after he had crushed someone's jaw under the weight of his pummeling, bloodlusting fist.  

Johnny made a name for himself bootlegging liquor, too young to fight in the first world war. Took over as The Boss of Boston. It’s how he got his name. Johnny Boy. Fresh faced but the heart of a ragged old man. Lost it all after the second world war, gained it back not long after. A killer with a bone deep yearning for blood, money, violence, and you. 

He sat in his pressed suit, legs parted as he leaned over to display his full flush to the table, flashing a killer smile when he collected the money off his right hand man and three more of his boys. You smiled from the bar, beads of your dress twinkling in the low light of the speakeasy, ready to waltz over with another old fashioned and drape yourself in his lap.

“Thanks, Henry.” You smiled at your oldest friend, taking the drink he had placed down in front of you on the bar. Henry was your age, 25. A boy from Hartford, Connecticut, grew up in Kansas, then moved here looking for work in a big city. Honest, hardworking. Sweeter than cherry pie. And his little brother Sam was just the cutest pip you'd ever seen. 

“No problem, Doll.” He teased, which deserved a roll of the eyes from you. 

“How many times have I asked you not to call me that?”

“This would make it…” he glanced up for a second, as if calculating within his mind, “one too many times to count.”

“Funny.” You gave him a quick bitter smile. All in good fun, clearly, for he took no offence. He just shot you a smile, running a clean rag over the bartop, collecting two glasses and wiping the rings of condensation they left upon maplewood. 

“Your man looks thirsty. Might wanna take him his drink now. Before he gets the wrong idea about me talking to ya.” You sighed, craning your head slightly to look back at Johnny who scanned the place with a scowl. It made your skin crawl the thought of his temper snapping again. Despite it, you left Henry with a playful wink his way before swanning back over, placing Johnny’s drink in front of him and a vermillon kiss to his cheek. 

Johnny sneered at the affection, wiping your lipstick stain from his cheek. All the confidence you had fell to the floor and shattered miserably. Liquid courage sloshed on the cured wood floor.

“Fuck’s sake, Doll. What you do that for?” He demanded of you, the disgust in his cruel cerulean eyes sending a chilling, agonising jolt down your spine. 

“Sorry, Johnny.” You shied away, folded your hands together, eyes on the floor.

“Ain't you gotta powder your nose or something? Go on. Piss off.” 

He was right. You’d be on soon. Drenched in the spotlight. Under the scrutinising, side cramping glare of everyone's eye. You could do with the quiet. So you shuffled off to your dressing room without a word more, holding back tears with your breath. 

In the mirror, you mourned the girl you were. Mourned the life you had before it all turned upside down. Mourned the man you fell in love with. And the monster you had no choice but to stay with. 

—

Joel was fuming. If you touched his skin you'd reel back with a scorched yelp because his blood ran hot, fast and thick under his flesh. Trust Tommy to catch himself in the web of underground crime. Always a joiner. Always a deserter too when things got heated. And who was left to untangle him from its intricate, venom snared weave? Joel ‘Gubbins’ Miller. He might as well have ‘mother to my brother’ branded on his forehead. Because that's what he was now. 

The war ended four years ago and ever since Tommy had been searching for his purpose. Preached about it round the dinner table in their grimy, mildew inhabited apartment like a preacher would his sermon. And every time it set Joel’s teeth on edge. Because he knew what came after the downfall. The pickup. 

Now, however, Joel was determined to nip this lunacy in the bud. Tear it up from the soil by the new roots. 

The Canary Club was one of the few remaining speakeasies around in Boston. To a cop it was practically a ghost of an establishment. Might as well not be there. But to a man like Joel, whose brother never stopped babbling on about the next best thing he had cooking for himself, it was as easy as pie.  

A shroud of cloud hung just above Boston’s looming buildings, teaming with the early moon to create a murky gloom over the dim city’s sin. It seemed to fill the hollow, smoggy air as they cast dark, taut shadows over the slick, grimy roads. The sky threatened rain for the third day in a row. A place that reeked of underground crime, drug rings and watered down, once bootlegged alcohol, laced with what one can only assume to be illegal too. All of that was washed down with the constant sour smell of new rain upon dirty tarmac. A city plagued and tarnished by its own rejects.The promise of work bought them in. But the lifestyle spat them back out. Chewed up and ruined by their own humanising hope.

He and his brother came in search of work. They were getting nowhere down south in Texas. On the dole and barely able to afford a loaf of bread between the two of them. Even their own mother hardly recognised her boys after the war. Said they were empty shells of men. Husks of the boys she raised. Killers. 

The woman was a pacifist at heart. And it was a trait that Joel not only saw as weak, but typical of women. Or that's what his father had socialised him into thinking. He didn't know where his father’s ideals ended and his started. As the days went by he saw more of the violence his father harboured in himself. Grimaced at the lug in the looking glass. 

Joel was no pacifist. But he didn't storm through the doors either. No gun was in hand ready to send people screaming bloody murder. That was stupid. A mistake that he knew could wind him up on the concrete in the flooded gulley with a bullet in his head where blood and water could finally mix. Instead he stole in quietly in the ambience of playing cards and a Jazz band, ordered himself a drink, and sat at the far corner of the bar where it was dimly lit. Just enough for him to see his drink and the room, but his face still remained shadowed. 

While he sipped in ponder, he took the chance to people watch. Scan the patrons for any uncanny resemblance of dear Tommy. But nothing. He seemed distracted by the careful and steady hand that polished glass after glass, though each of them were spotless before touching the rag. 

A pointless task. Some may say sisyphean. But the boy doing so knew when eyes were on him. It was a very rare occurrence if not related to his race. People of any darker colour were ogled often in these parts despite it being more accepted within the north of America. There was still divide and segregation. However, this new patron wasn't looking for Henry’s skin colour, rather contemplating how on earth a boy such as him had ended up in such a place. What connection he had to the gang. Was he like Tommy? Roped in at the side of the side of the road and choking on his remaining pride. Or in a sticky financial situation? All these questions seemed to circle like the rag in the crystal glass Henry held. 

“What’s your name, kid?” Joel asked him with an ex-smoker's voice, brow dark in the shadow. The boy looked up, eyes youthful, but they'd seen things no man should have to. 

“Henry.” He said after a beat, quick to refill Joel’s glass when it was empty besides a drop circled thin and amber in the bottom. “Yours?” Joel lifted his head, taking a sip before placing his glass back on the bartop in furrowed brow contemplation. 

“Joel.” He leaned forward on his forearms, haunched over the bar, before looking around again. “Whatcha doin’ here, Henry?” 

Henry laughed slightly, looking down at his feet before back in Joel's eyes. And what he was met with was the hollow ache of a man scarred by war. Henry’s face fell flat. 

“Working.” 

“No…I mean in Boston.”

Henry cleared his throat at the sudden, and even brash way Joel approached his question. So much that it took him a second to frown and then reply. 

“Came from Kansas. Hard for a black kid to find honest work there. Especially with a family to look out for.” His words were solemn and reflected a truth Joel knew all too well growing up down south. Even if he never lived it in his own white skin.

“You look a little young to have a kid.” 

“I don’t. I got a brother.” Joel nodded as he listened, waiting for him to go on. Which he did after a beat of silence. “Bright kid. Bright future too. He’s deaf though. Got a lot stacked against him in this world. Mom can't bring in enough to fund education for ‘im. So I stepped up.”

“No Daddy?” Joel asked and Henry shook his head. “How’d you end up here then?”

“A girl.” The look Joel gave Henry was sceptical. But the young boy was soon to put a stop to it all. “Not a girlfriend. Just a girl. We grew up in the same building. She moved up north for a life and I followed a few months later. She met a guy. A wealthy guy. And she wrote to me often of how swell Boston had been for her.”

Joel wasn't the questioning type. Neither one to beat around the bush. But Henry intrigued him. Reminded him a lot of Sarah. The challenge she had faced with the colour of her skin that he, as a white man, would never understand. He felt a guilt about it every day that flared up in the dark of night before his eyes closed for restless and futile sleep. “And this guy?”

“Him.” Henry nodded subtly over to the table of men playing cards. Poker. A game Joel knew well in the frontline and in Egypt where he fought. Him and a few others often huddled together in their own game. Nothing but the last pair of intact socks to bet on, or a single cigarette to get them through the night. Joel quit smoking the moment he got back. Knew it was something that made him unpredictable and jittery in the best of situations. “Johnny Boy Finnick. A big name in these parts.” 

Joel followed Henry’s gaze, but his attention was snagged by the unmistakable head of dark curled hair facing away from him. He knew his brother anywhere and his blood began to boil as he threw back his second drink and slammed the empty glass on the bartop. 

“Hey, man-” Henry tried, shoulders straining as he stood to attention. Joel didn't pay him any mind. Merely wiped his mouth with the back of his hand before his bar stool sharied upon the varnished wood floor. He cared not for the noise. Only the feeling he would get once his closed fist met the bone on the bridge of Tommy’s nose. 

Trumpets flailed to a stop and drums failed mid blow. The room fell silent after a chorus of gasps. 

He loved his brother. Deeply. So much it caused a chasm of a rib cracking hole in his chest every time Tommy slipped up. But he saw red now it all caught up behind his lids that blinked once. That split second of not seeing and before he had a chance to second guess, he was gripping the back of tommy;s collar and wrenching him up to his feet to deliver a shiner to the face. 

Tommy staggered back, and everyone at his table stood up with the intention to harm. Yet no one but the brawling brothers fought. As he gained his footing again, he also gained his senses, recognising Joel anywhere. 

“Joel, what the fu-” He was hardly able to finish before another shooting pain split his bottom lip open and Tommy’s mouth was filled with the taste of his own bitter blood. Blood he and Joel shared and were now shedding in a futile fight of nothing but testosterone. That was enough to send the same foul blow to his kin. Joel winced, knowing the crescent of a bruise that would bloom on his cheekbone overnight. One of Tommy’s many rings sliced his skin. He felt warmth in crimson dribble from a fresh flesh wound. 

“Hey!” One loud and bellowing voice that had the power to command a whole unit of men boomed out before neither Joel or Tommy had the chance to throw another fist. It was for the better. Any more and Joel’s knuckles would have bruised purple. A colour of shame. 

It was Johnny. And his face was stoic as he stared each brother down with a burning gaze that had even Joel’s hairs stood on end at the nape of his neck. Like an army stood to attention before the first charge. Except he didn't move. Joel knew now where he stood in the food chain of this speakeasy. And it was right at the very bottom. “You!” He pointed at Tommy. Go clean yourself up.” And Tommy went as pale as a funeral sheet before nodding meekly. His face melted from shock to shame in the blink of Joel’s very eye before he grumbled something under his breath and passed Joel with a sharp clip to his shoulder. 

It's his turn now. 

At this point you'd come out to see what the commotion was for. The walls, while thick upstairs in the printer's press, were thin in the basement. And you;d heard silence and the spit of a man as his blood splattered with spit on the floor in the doorway. 

“The fuck do you think you’re doin throwin’ fists in my god damned club for?!” He roared. And Joel had to take the duration of both inhale and exhale to get his lips and tongue to work. But the scowl on his face said it all. “Huh?!” Jonny’s nostrils flared like a spanish thoroughbred bulls’. 

“That’s my brother you got workin’ for ya. I ain't havin’ him in some shady drug ring you got goin in. I aint!” 

Jonnly was no stupid man. Hr was smart. Quick minded and knew a man with balls. But Joel also knew very little. So this one time, he took the approach of calmness, and used his usual lying tongue for truth. Any other time it would she forked like Lucifer's serpent form. But now he was a man of coolness. “Right.” Johnny nodded at him, his tone was one that could soothe a ravenous bear. But with an edge as sharp as a knife. So sharp it could slice skin in one swift swoop. “Sit down.” He commanded calmly. “Let’s get you a drink.” 

With a wave of his hand a cha was pulled out. Two heavy handed brutes shoving Joel down into a chair, an old fashioned presented to him by Henry in front of him on the maplewood table. Then Johnny addressed the room gently. Set its patrons at ease. The music played its jazzy, jolly tune once more. People spoke again.And Johnny took his seat opposite Joel. 

“Look here…” The gangster waited for Joel to give him his name. Which he did. “Joel, I appreciate a strong swing as much as the next guy. But I don't appreciate it in my establishment.” Joel nodded in understanding. His temper ashamed him. How it ran hot under his skin. Fizzled white when provoked until he saw red in rage and swung. Never blindly though. He wasn't a loose cannon like the  broken soldier stereotype enforced. Just a fractured man. 

“You’re a soldier aint ya?” “Was.” Joel said gruffly. Curtly and he brewed a stare across from Johnny.

“Oh, nah.” Johnny shook his head, swirling his drink in the crystal glass, “Once a brother in arms, always a brother in arms. The war sticks with ya. You’re a soldier.” “Fine. Yeah, I'm a soldier.” 

“I know the war. I served like you. Left a boy and came back a shell of a man. Now look at me.” Joel took a moment to calculate his motive here. Johnny’s arms stretched wide with a smirk of pure pride as he gestured to the heart of his Boston crime empire. “I got money. I got birds.” He held up his glass to Joel, “I got liquor.” then leaned forward and spoke in a grave tone, "What you got?” 

Joel swallowed harshly, unable to answer because he had nothing in reality. 

“You got a job?” He shook his head, exhaling through his nose. “No.”

“Figured. Hard finding work when all the women are competent enough to do it themselves. Fight for your country. End up on the streets. You don't die a hero like you thought you would. No one knows your name.” He scoffed, holding fingers up in air quotes around competent. It left a bitter taste of disgust in Joel’s mouth as the father of a daughter. Curled the edges of his tongue distastefully. Made him kiss his teeth to hold back the insult. “Well, people know my name.” Johnny paused again, the air grew thick between them and smouldered on their shoulders. He was squinting at Joel opposite him, sizing him up. Joel was rugged. A strong build and most likely a strong character too. Something Johnny could always do with having in abundance. And so when the devil's own smirk curled at his lip, Joel felt a question brewing at the very tip of his tongue. One that would change his life for better or worse. Regardless of it he declined or accepted. “And they could know yours too.”

Joel didn't want to admit it for the sake of his crumbling pride, but the man had it all. Even a good five years his junior, the man made a living for himself. Picked himself up from the dirt and used bloodshed and bodies for the foundations. 

“I could use a guy like you–”

“No.” Joel put his offer down flat before it had the chance to meet the air. 

“Hear me out.” He said calmly, and held up a hand, “A roof over your head. A steady income. A little extra dough in ya pocket?” Johnny rubbed his thumb and index finger together in the older man's face. An action to which Joel’s nostrils flared. It was embarrassing to even mull over. “Come on,” Johnny smirked. “Give it a go.” 

The southerner’s lips pursed, as if he was thinking it over. Which he was. But to what lengths would he go? Sure, Joel was conditioned in a short few months to kill. He was good at it. Mowed down men on the frontline like clockwork. And his trigger finger twitched at the thought of holding that power once more. But that didn't mean he was a man without morals. The men’s blood he;d coat his hands in had families. They were someone's son. Probably someone's husband or father. Joel knew the hollow ache loss left. The imprint of a shadow it left. The chasm ripped in your chest. Loss felt like an agonising, deep, helpless pit. But here was Johnny, throwing him a rope 

“You know, you’re right. This ain't the time to talk this over.” Johnny held his hands up and leaned back in his seat before they clapped back in his lap. Now you were at Johnny’s side once more. But the figure of Joel in his chair had something jumping in your bones. Tongue curling to taste his very words.  “Dollface here will patch you up.” 

You raised a brow, giving the two of them a dirty look. “Excuse me? Do I look like a nurse?” You shut up when Johnny glared. Swallowed your pride, and sighed inwardly. You both hated and loved the power he held over you. As much as you despised it at times, Johnny had your being wrapped around his finger like a puppeteer holds his strings. And tightly. You felt his tug at the strain in your limbs. 

“And you come back here tomorrow. We’ll talk in my office over a drink and a cigar. A good fucking drink.” 

—

Joel swallowed harshly when he saw you. Eyes, wide and decorated by dark mascara lashes, white liner on lower waterlines, face of a doll like Johnny’s nickname for you suggested. The red lipstick you had re-applied moments prior was glossy, inviting him to stumble over velvet words he would hear you speak. Lean closer so the blood red could graze the shell of his ear while you would whisper a dirty joke at him. 

He followed as you led him down a corridor off to the other side of the bar. Your dress seemed fit for hypnotising him into your bidding. Surely you were a siren who climbed the strats of a pier of the east coast and arrived here. Something about the beauty you wielded was not the everyday sort. It was the type you see women bend over backwards to achieve even a glimmer of for their man who came back after work. He could see himself now. Loosening his tie, hanging up his coat and hat. Leaving his briefcase and sanity at the door to see you in a pinafore and pin curls. Pretty gingham dress. He’d sit at the table and either be presented by you or a meal for his satiation. He’d prefer to devour the sweetness between your legs. 

Your hand in front of his face had his attention now. Fingers snapping. Nails manicured and painted the same shade as your lipstick. 

“Hey, you listening?” You asked, face set into displeasure. Joel straightened as he cleared his throat.

“What?” His tone was gruff and he mirrored your expression to you. His southern accent catching you off guard, but is intriguing. 

“I said sit down.” 

Joel looked over at the chair set at a vanity mirror you gestured to with an extended arm. The second time he had been asked to be seated. The second time he obeyed. 

You took your time to wet a washcloth in the small basin in the corner with warm water. Took the bottle of whiskey you stashed last week from the bottom of a rickety chest of drawers. Joel watched you in the mirror, eyes narrowed a fraction to make sure you were of no threat to him. He knew he could take you easily. In more ways than one. The power imbalance had his length twitching in his trousers. 

Your hands weren't gentle as you sat on the vanity between his legs. You took his stubbled chin in your grasp and jerked his head up into the light, tilting it to take a closer look at the gash. 

“Stay still.” You said curtly, holding the rag to the opening of the bottle and wetting it. You then pressed it over the pad of your finger. The initial touch made his teeth bare at you and a hiss to escape his mouth. His large wrist enclosing around yours to make you stop. “I said,” And you yanked your wrist from his hold, “stay still.” 

He did as he was told again. Silence setting his between the odd hiss from him and twitch of muscle under weathered skin. The crows feet at the side of his eyes were old. He clearly had lost his smile to something in the past. But you didn't ask, only wondered as you wiped the dried blood clean from his wound. “Fuckin grown man and you cant take a little sting of a cut.” You mumbled under your breath to yourself in amusement. Followed by a small huff of dry laugh.

“Maybe if you weren't digging your fingers into a fresh bruise I wouldn’t be wincin’.” You shot him a look and let go.

“All done.” And you held up your hands for good measure. 

“What are you doing here anyway?” You asked, tossing the rag aside and crossing your arms. He reached for the whiskey and took a large gulp, pursing his lips at the slow burn in the back of his throat. 

“None of your business.” 

“What’s your name?”

“You know my name.” He stated lowly. He was right. But you found a sick satisfaction in having any man you liked bend to your will. Answer any question you so pleased to hear the answer to. 

His bones groaned as he stood up from the chair. Your coat draped over the back of it fell to the floor and you swiftly got up to swipe it from the floor and hand it on the hook on the back of the door before pressing your back to it and facing him. Blocking his exit.  “Move.”

“Tell me your name.” You crossed your arms, jutting your chin up at him. 

“Don’t make me move you, princess.”

“Tell me your name.” 

Joel bit his tongue, the vein in his neck starting to pulse visibly under his skin that once again went hot. 

“Why do you wanna know?”

“Because I’m nosy.” You smiled, sarcastic and saccharine. “And i want to know the name i’ll be moaning tonight as i touch myself under the covers.” 

“Fuckin-” His jaw ticked, nostrils flared in his disdain. You kept your smile as he pinched the bridge of his nose with a small guttural noise from the back of his throat. A headache was starting to coil behind the strain of his eyes. “Joel.” And he looked back up at you. It still wasn't enough “Miller.” Your smile was genuine this time, just as sweet. You uncrossed your arms, standing up straight from the door to hold out your hand and give him your name in return. He rolled his eyes, reaching for the handle and swerving you. He pulled the door but you used your body weight to slam it shut with your back again. A loud slam and a creak of protest from its hinges.

“Where are you from, Joel?” 

“Is this a game to you, girl?” Joel growled. 

“Yes.” The smile you had was sly. Foxy. A  single finger ran down his chest and dared to slip just under his shirt’s collar. “I like games.”

“You don't wanna do that.” He warned, dark eyes burning you up inside from your very core. It was the look of a man’s lust that had been left untouched, unloved for quite some time now. It strained at his morality. But who were you to give up the warning and keen hand of a man who so desperately needed a release to the coiling tension of his shoulders. You saw it. Felt it in the rhythmic yet chaotic hammer of his heart against his ribs. As if it were trying with all its might not to break his own bones clean in two and lurch from its enclosure of flesh and bone. 

“And why not?” This was a devils game of chess. Careful calculated words from loose tongues and taking each other's moves in as you exhaled a counter. And oy had him three moves from checkmate. His king weak in defence, your advances stronger  by each word that fell into his eras from your red painted, enticing lips. He could feel his limbs being string up for you to pull at like a puppeteer in an advanced level of her craft. But he was no kind man. His words were even less forgiving than his disposition. 

“Because I aint a kind man. Haven't been for a long while. And I know types of things a man like me would wanna do to a pretty girl like you.” 

“I doubt it would be anything new.” You cooed, watching your finger as it traced a line lower over his buttons,  stopping at the top of his belt buckle and just shy of teasing at the growing bulge in his trousers. 

The tension between you was thicker than molasses. And it seeped through the cracks of his better judgement to the part of him that hungered for touch. That was ravenous for a single one of your fingers. 

“I don't think Johnny would like that.” 

“And I didnt like the way he spoke to me earlier.” You pouted. The way a child would when dined a sweet treat before dinnertime. 

“That aint a good reason to start an affair with me. Because when i get my grubby hands on ya there ain't no going back, doll.” 

His words were enticing you more. To have a man obsessing over your body. Your curves. Your voice singing his name as he fucked you dirtier than anyone into anything. Joel was that man now. He knew it in the very marrow of your bones that you were trouble. His new little minx. So it was no surprise when his lips crushed yours under the full weight of his sexual frustration. 

It was needy. Heated. A clashing of tongues and teeth as he pressed you with his entire simmering being into the wood of the door. His bulge grinding desperately into your thich that parted his legs. 

His tongue swiped your lower lip before drawing it back between his teeth for him to suckle on until it tingled deliciously. He was jealous with his touches. Groping your hips as the sating of your dress that crumpled to the floor. It revealed sweet sweet skin. Skin Joel wasted no time in delving in for the first damning lick. A pleasure to every sense. Sight, taste, touch, smell, sound. 

Heavy breaths were exhaled into the dewy skin of your clavicle, tongue languidly sliding over the high points of your collarbones and enclosing in a sharp suck over the skin just above your right breast. It sent a chorus of heavenly sinful, light and airy monas from your mouth and floated into his ears. His lips were chapped and weathered in contrast to the silk smooth of your skin. It was delightful. 

He went lower, got to his knees as he drank up the sense of a woman's skin for the first time in years. This was the taste of true damnation. He was past the opening of hell's gates and somehow found heaven in the parting of your thighs down the newly trodden path of your navel. 

He pressed his open mouth to your clothed cunt, tasted the seeping slick you gave him on his tongue and gluttonously inhaled your musk right at the apex of your thighs. Your fingers tangled into the curls of his messy, wind wrecked hair. Keening your hips up to press into the curve of his aquiline nose, and riding the burning in the pit of your belly starting to grow. Your head fell back against the door. Your mouth unhinged and letting out moan after sigh after mewl of his name. His face buried between the meat of your thighs as his hands gripped your asscheeks and spread them so he could push his face deeper between your folds. Your underwear drenched and ruined from your wetness and his spit while he tongued your hole through the flimsy lace. 

You pulled him back, smirked at the wreck he was with his lips sticky and shiny in the light of your dressing room. To then pull him up to your lips so you could curl your tongue into his mouth and taste yourself on him. It’s where the taste belonged. Among notes of whiskey and chewing tobacco and drugstore gum. 

His large hands pawed at your hips once more, listing you so your legs could wrap obediently round his waist. That's how it worked now. He wanted, you gave. And willingly like the sounds that fell into his motu like sweet, freshly harvested honey. Ut had the feel of money. Powerful and green like spring leaves. But with the warning of rotting when summer meets its tragic and fatal end. It was like trying to cross a canyon with a broken limb. Near impossible. The last sip of a drink that would ensure drunken and slurred movements. It took even the nest of a man his entirety to deny you, But deep down, Joel was a weak man. Strong in body, maybe mind too. But weak in soul. And he gave in with the cashing of your back against the vanity mirror. 

He had his faults. He knew that. And you did too. It had you wondering how a man like Joel loves. Did he change for his chosen lover? Or was he just as rough a callus as he was with everyone else. Would he destroy and ache and leave you wondering when your body would be at his whim next and how he would bend it to his will. Or would he let you lean into his embrace as he kissed down the column of your throat to the holy entitled epiphany between your thighs. The glisten of your hot cunt aching to be touched by anything. His everything. 

So you reached for his belt. So you undid it along with his buttons to touch his heated skin, To feel the blood flow beneath as the strain of each of his muscles. You ran a hand across his chest and he let his head fall back as a woman touched him for the first time as a man of war. A veteran.

He felt like he had been cast in gold by the sun for the first time in his life. Shed his skin for a new layer reserved just for you. As if he was thanking whatever resided up there for you. He was no believer in god, but, Jesus Christ, he was starting to believe in some form of higher power. You were proof that there was a blessing for him to steal away from the world. It was in your sound. Your taste. Your touch. It beckoned him the way your finger did, curling into the collar of his shirt to clash your lips with his and let. He had no autonomy over the moan that fell into his mouth where it festered at the back of his throat and was swallowed with a desperate and heady inhale. 

You trod roads into his skin with your touch. Ones he knew he would follow later that night in an erotomaniac’s pleasure. And you finally pulled his length free from his trousers. Your underwear was soon to follow and your slick aided the way he managed to sink so smoothly into your sopping heat. A squeeze he would commit to memory and savour like the taste of fresh and ripe fruit. Because you were. Fresh and youthful in age. Ready to be devoured to the core as a gleaning red apple would be. The very same one that even took in the garden of eden. Temptation. Fruit flesh to signify sin. 

He took his first bite out of you with a satisfying crunch. And keep devouring until there was nothing left but the remnants of your birth, ready to be resurrected, grown again in the form of a new tree. 

He stilled once he bottomed out, letting himself bask in the moment. The first time he was nestled deeply in the walls of your cunt. He heard your quiet whimpers for him to move. Felt the way your pert nipples brushed his sweat slicked skin. It was a ghost of a memory the last time he felt this. The heat of someone in the throes of intimacy. And it was all over him. It was the very air he wes starved of. The past was all paled in comparison because of the way your hips bucked pathetically to feel his thrust inside you. To get him going. No one had needed him this rawly, this undignifying before. 

A single hand clamped over your mouth, stilling your movements. He felt the tickle of your exhale against the pinky finger. 

“Stay still…” He commended with a swallowed down groan when you clenched around him, ironically repeating your words from earlier.

You looked at him. The glazed over, far away look in his eyes. His voice low and laden in a gravelly tone that came from the very back of his throat. You pulled him forward to lick it out again with your tongue when his hand fell to your throat. It gave a warning squeeze. And you once again canted your hips in protest. 

This time he moved. And it was like poetry as it hit that toe curling spot inside you. Made your eyes close in blissful ignorance of what this would do to you. YOu slick drooling from your cunt onto his shaft until it shined at his very base and dripped down his heavy balls. 

His hand squeezed your throat tighter. Had you yelling for him in a suppressed squeal. His other hand clamped around your mouth for you to moan into. Your words of praise lost on his ears, listened to by his palm instead. Every devil was fuelling this act of infidelity. This act of carnal sin you both needed. Ut unwound your bones, but had the coil in your belly cramping with each swift buck of his hips. 

You met his swift thrusts in a desperate attempt to be of use to him. Finding it hard to breathe, yet alone Your cunt spasmed delectably. Searching for a new feeling. A feeling primal and dirty as the streets of Boston. Your eyes rolled back in your head as your legs trembled while he went on, giving you something you would remember from this day forward, A sentence of being binded to him.

You were in the arms of the devil himself. St his ,ercy. Nsd nothing felt more thrilling than the pleasure that rolled at a landslide's power and pace down your spine into your core. 

Another squeeze round your throat. Another unhinged moan into his hand. He snarled, baring his teeth at you before pressing his face into the crook of your neck and biting down. Your eyes closed and painted a picture of stars. You were close to seeing angels by now and the deep ache of pleasure grappled your flesh and had goosebumps flicking up to attention over your flesh.

His chest heaved with each curl of his hips. Your exhales heavier by the second while you moaned his name like a mantra to his hand. His teeth imprinted on your back like a randhishing. A mark of the sin that was witnessed by the two of you that day. Your voice was shrill. A repeated ‘Joel! Joel! Joel!’

“Fuck, yeah, sing f’me doll. Sing f’me. Let em know who’s doin’ this to you.” He panted in vain. “Tell me.” “Feels so good–”

“Again.” He demanded. 

“Feels so good! Too good!” 

And it was. He had you burning white hot at the end of an illicit teather. You gripped his back with talons of hellbirds. Clawing at his shirt clad back. The wings of hi shoulderbales. The snake length of his spine. 

“That’s it. Tell ‘em. Tell me! Tell me in making you feel fuckin’ good.” 

“You are. Harder Joel.” His pace was like poetry. Ripped you in tow and had you displayed to him. One knee was hooked over his hunched shoulder, spine curled as his forehead pressed to yours. `The new angle had you singing like a songbird. High and melodic in tune.  Your kitten heel slipping off and clattering to the floor without a second thought. The head of his cock nipped your cervix. The lewd wet sounds of your pussy smothering him in your slick and your shared moans filled the room. Everything of you was his now. You couldn't even think of giving this up to Johnny. Yes, he fucked you dirty. But Joel fucked you like it was his sole purppose of living. Like it was what gave him life. 

You fell. You fell as soon as you hit your climax with a mewling moan that ended Joel right there and then. Coming together with heavy breaths and shaking, trembling chests. His release inside of you, strings of his come smearing you in him. Marking you for later. Well and truly ruined for any other warm body that dared to slip into your sheets. 

But falling was not the problem. Only when you hit the ground is what causes all the grief. And the look you shared once the gold haze of afterglow faded was what confirmed this. 

What have you done? How would you live without this?

[sapphicdib]

"i could gush about my sig headcanons all day but auuughvjgghh". You know what, do it. I dare you. After that sleepy iterators post I'm itching for more headcanons to ponder.

SORRY THIS IS RLLY LATE, IVE BEEN WORKING A LOT

THANK YOU FOR LETTING ME HAVE AN EXCUSE TO HAVE A CATEGORY 10 AUTISM MOMENT ON THE DASH. this is legit about to be a better essay than anything ive ever turned in for university so strap in, obv everything is gonna be under the cut bc this is prolly gonna be long as fuck

Okay! My main headcanons for Sig are:

He uses he/she/it pronouns, but mainly he/she!

He's a bioengineering dork.

She's a specialized medical facility!

She doesn't really care much about the great problem, and thus has a lot of hobbies. He knitted her own scarf!

She has a lot of friends, even outside of the local group. He's incredibly close with Chasing Wind.

He's a mid-gen iterator, (Ages being: LTTM, SRS, SOS, CW, NSH, UI, FP), so his emotional AI is a lot more advanced than Suns' (there's quite a gap between the two, Suns is closer to Moon in terms of age).

She considers Hunter to be her daughter, Hunter calls him her dadmom and Moon her mom.

He tends to bury these emotions down for the sake of others, which leads to...bad situations.

She's terrified of being alone :)

Sig just gives me gender fucky-wucky vibes. Her pronouns are the/bit and he's committed to it. There's not really a basis for this in canon but it just fits his personality of being pretty laid back and goofy when not in um. emotional distress. Also the accessorizing to his puppet (ie the scarf) makes me think he likes to experiment with her appearance and presentation. To add on to this in the streamer au she goes by any pronouns and is pretty androgynous, so none of his followers can tell his AGAB, and its funny to him to watch the chat argue about it. (He's AFAB, tbh I can't see her as anything else). No one can guess his sexuality either, the only "confirmed" thing seems to be polyamourous, but other than that it's "whatever makes it gay", or "whatever pisses you off most".

Sig obviously has a knack for bioengineering, as he was the one who started investigating the idea of using purposed messengers to stay in contact with others once the comms degraded, not to mention the creation of the slag reset keys. Yes this is my incoming rant of "Sig is not bad at making slugcats", since sometimes people tend to act like "Sig didn't follow Suns' instructions" or something like that, and that's why Hunter is sick. There are MULTIPLE points in their conversations where it's outright stated that Sig was the one who did it first:

Sig was the one who showed Suns the process:

SRS: I purposed a messenger, and sent the information by land via a data pearl. NSH: How original of you. SRS: I learned from the best.

Sig clearly has experiences with messengers, and Spearmaster happens before Sig begins working on Hunter:

NSH: I feel like I need to be simplifying my speech patterns. Is that something you do when conversing with your messenger?

SUNS SAYS "ANOTHER" MESSENGER, AND THEN LATER SIG SAYS "ANOTHER MESSENGER" AS WELL. SIG HAS MADE MESSENGERS BEFORE:

SRS: Do you suppose you'll ever raise another messenger?

NSH: I'm tempted to start work on raising another messenger as a last ditch effort, but to be honest I don't think there is any point.

And then, in her reply, she says, "*I* started investigating the method".

NSH: If the need arises, I certainly would. After all, I started investigating the method out of the inevitability of our situation.

And just to nail it down that Sig was the one who purposed them first, the gossip between Wandering Omen and Pleading Intellect:

PI: You haven't heard about what No Significant Harassment did? WO: All I heard was the complaining. Didn't he send an iterator something distasteful? PI: Well, yes, but more importantly, he trained a purposed organism to deliver it!

WO: How do you even get a dull creature such as that to follow orders? I may consider asking him to teach me his ways.

So yes, Sig was the one to purpose the messengers first. She had already made at least one in the past, to send the "distasteful message" to someone. I'd honestly say he probably made more between that/before, to test the efficacy and also just to mess around with the process.

This leads into my next headcanon: Sig was a specialized medical facility! Five Pebbles mentions to Hunter that "I was not a medical facility even when the equipment was functioning," so I believe that there were some more specialized iterators built. Sig's knowledge of bioengineering could be an indication of this specialization, not to mention it fits with him not really caring about the great problem to the same degree as everyone else. Purely headcanon after this point, but when Sig was first built, Moon was very nervous about getting a new model of "specialized" iterator that she wouldn't be able to help train as well! Moon was a more generalized iterator as she was older, so she does have knowledge about medicine and bioengineering, as all iterators did for the health and growth of her city, but nothing to the degree Sig would need. Thankfully, iterators are fucking supercomputers, so its not like Sig needed much "training" in the way of that, but still. Moon wanted to be a good mentor to her! And she very much was, considering how Sig turned out. That's why they ended up so close.

After the mass ascension, he became the resident "doctor" of the local group. Pointing back to the slag reset keys, Sig seems to have shoved as many as he could into that thing, since Pebbles reacts to the amount of them with surprise, so he knows his way around iterator biology. In pure headcanon mode now, when they develop my tangible projections thing (which Sig and Moon were heavily involved in), it meant that she could actually help others by preforming repairs on their puppets, and even their structures by sending her overseer into them. Moon's inspectors enjoy head pats from her whenever he's passing by.

Her being a medical facility also means she doesn't give as much thought to finding the Triple Affirmative as others. His processing power was delegated more towards finding cures, aiding the sick, and engineering better production techniques for medical equipment and such. His city is also highly accessible and optimized for the disabled and elderly. When you're a medical facility, your goal is more to keep people alive than perma-kill them! I mostly get this headcanon from the fact that when Suns is faced with "what to do" other than solve the great problem, they respond with "What else CAN we do? You're stuck in your can, and at any moment you have no more than two alternatives: Do nothing, or work like you're supposed to.". Meanwhile, Sig responds to Suns' question about purposing another messenger with "There's nothing better for me to do with my time, though.". Not to mention, he was already purposing messengers before this, so she certainly wasn't dedicating all of her time to iterating the great problem! Of course, he probably did iterate on it, just not to the degree his peers did. He also jokes about it in that broadcast where Wind is telling everyone about erratic pulse, saying "Haha with the slimers, lizards and etceteras? Surely the answer was in a lizard skull all along!" so it really seems like he doesn't take it very seriously.

Her disinterest in solving the problem led to her developing a wide range of hobbies. He's an iterator after all, they probably get horrifically bored if they're not doing something! She taught herself to knit (telling his citizens it helped her focus so they would provide her with needles and yarn), and eventually learns to make garments as well. I headcanon he plays video games too, especially with Chasing Wind, mostly just because she probably wanted to see if an iterator could run Doom for the lolz. Probably also trolls in the group chats sometimes, considering the "distasteful pearl", and I think her being being NGI ("No Great Ideas") would be funny as hell. This also makes it pretty obvious why I made the streamer au, Sig's a top level player for multiple FPS games and has won some pretty prestigious awards in esports tournaments. And then she goes home and plays Hollow Knight randomizers with Pebbles in a maid outfit.

Sig's personality also lent itself to having a lot of friends. Her and Chasing Wind were built less than 50 cycles apart (Wind is older), so they're practically attached at the hip. Wind isn't in her local group (He's in Sliver's), but they're still very close. It's not really explored much in canon since we really only see her interact with Suns for the most part, but given her personality, I don't think it'd be a far off assumption for him to have lots of friends. Because she's younger, she also has a more sophisticated emotional AI...which can be detrimental at times, but is helpful when it comes to maintaining friendships!

AHAH So here comes the um. SAD portion of the rant lol. I feel like Sig buries her emotions down a lot, for the sake of others. In her conversations with Suns, we do see him get snappy with him, but for the most part he remains either calm or sympathetic, at the most a bit pessimistic towards the end. When she finally does call Suns out for their bullshit, he (presumably) stops replying to Suns for a short time before apologizing and continuing to talk to them.

SRS: I'm in noticing you are becoming more defensive. This obviously wasn't the end result I was aiming for, you know. SRS: Please respond to my messages. I don't want to leave it like this. I need someone to talk to. NSH: I don't mean to be cold, I'm just very worried.

After this interaction, Sig seems to either just reply with facts/possibly explanations for Moon/Pebbles' actions, or completely changing the subject to Suns' messenger, which then leads to the broadcast where Suns is telling her all the ways they modified their messenger to sneak past Sig's overseers, by not giving them the mark and hiding the pearl, we see Sig's replies become very short, single sentence answers.

This to me reads as slightly passive aggressive, but Suns doesn't seem to pick up on it. To be honest I in my head I hear this as Sig hissing this shit through clenched teeth if he could, but it's just text so I suppose we'll never know.

Additionally, he still does let his emotions overwhelm her at points, (such as during the "Your plan was a complete failure" broadcast), but the most blatant is probably in the messages she sends to Moon and Pebbles.

Starting with the Pebbles one:

NSH: Five Pebbles, I will say once again. You need to stop. Immediately. NSH: I know you are going to trash this message like the rest, but... NSH: I hope eventually when you are out of this state of mind you will look back at these. NSH: Look back and reflect on all the regrets you've set yourself up to have.

Sig is angry. Like he shows no sympathy for him, and just hopes he wallows in regret for the rest of his life. She does express his dislike of Pebbles while talking to Suns as well, but manages to still be nice by saying "I think a lot of us were like that in the beginning.", and such, and then drops the subject by the next broadcast by talking about Suns' messenger. He only ever talks about Moon's condition, likely to keep himself from being a dick about Pebbles in front of Suns because talking directly about him is obviously pretty touchy. But this broadcast is straight up mean. She doesn't manage to hold back her emotions but to be honest? I don't think he actually cares, if he burns that bridge with Pebbles then fine, because Pebbles burned it first.

Pebbles took away one of the few friends he still had in this dying world.

I really and truly believe that Sig's biggest fear is being alone. She makes the slugcats as a way to keep in contact with others after the comms arrays degrade. After being snappy with Suns, she immediately backtracks, apologizes, and keeps talking to them, even if it hurts. His messages to Moon also emphasize this:

NSH: Moon? Moon, are you able to communicate?

NSH: Moon? It's me again.

NSH: I need to talk to you. I need to know you're okay.

The fact that we are provided two of these broadcasts and not just one seems to point to the idea that these are not the only two Sig sent. "It's me again." There is more desperation in her tone compared to the messages he shares with Suns, possibly because he's more comfortable expressing his profound distress with Moon because they're closer. A part of me headcanons she...never stopped sending messages. He needs to know she's okay. You can even find a green overseer in outer expanse and subterranean, locked out of the facility but still searching, still looking for any sign of Moon...or Hunter.

When Sig sends Hunter to Moon, the pearl he sends is goofy and lighthearted. He doesn't want to bring her down when she's already suffering enough. It's short, and sweet, because anything longer would probably devolve into something unpleasant. She's holding the words on that pearl together with tape and glue. Once again, hiding the pure grief he feels for the sake of others.

I also think that's why Hunter is sick. Once again, pure headcanon, but Sig mentions this on the pearl:

Excuse the unorthodox delivery method, equipment eroding etc etc.

I kinda interpret this as Sig pushing herself too hard to make Hunter in time to save Moon, and in turn, irreversibly damaging himself in the process. An emergency shutdown occurred after he ignores the 50th pressure warning his systems desperately tried to get her to pay attention to, causing Hunter to become sick thanks to the sudden disruption in his concentration, much like Pebbles and the rot. This is also why no other messengers were sent after this, Sig simply couldn't make any more that were healthy. She loved Hunter, and I fully believe that, as Hunter's last vision in the void sea was to return to his arms. Continuing the pure headcanons now, but he treats Hunter like a daughter and knits her a scarf for her journey. She tells Hunter that Moon is her mom. She gives Hunter a name, which were held in very high regard in ancient culture, a gift so she can at least be remembered for her sacrifice: "Hunting the Stars, Moon's Savior."

All and all, Sig is desperately trying to delay the inevitable, watching the walls of loneliness close in as she loses contact with friends, slowly encroaching on her until he's locked up in a box. Alone.

HOWEVER!

I for one, absolutely adore the goofy, flirty personality the fandom gives Sig. I really do believe when he isn't in extreme emotional distress, she is like that. The motherfucker uses tildes in his texts and teases Suns and makes jokes about slimers and lizards. I just like peeling apart the little snippets we see of him, which are mostly at pretty low moments unfortunately, and just seeing what I can extrapolate from that. Even if some of my headcanons are far-fetched and shit, I do at least try to keep most of them at least slightly in character with some explanation.

I hope you enjoyed my unhinged rant about my favorite guy!!!! I put this in google docs and its literally like, 2.4k words, I could genuinely have turned this in to one of my fucking college courses LMFAO. It's probably better than some of the garbage I DID turn in tbh. If you want more I am totally happy to provide, cuz I could make a whole OTHER ramble about Hunter that's just as long LMAOOOO

(Oh also none of this applies to rot au Sig. that freak deserves her own post bc at this point he's 50% oc and 50% No Significant Harassment Rain World LOL)

[karoochui]

Okay. So I recently found your blog and been obsessing over the sandman au but like. You mentioned things about reincarnation and how y/b died and like. If sand sun and boogie moon remember everything after the fire, do they know what happened to y/n? And don’t they realize that y/n is gonna die again? After all, I’m assuming that y/n is just a human and sun and moon are like. Kinda gods of dreams? Falling in love for a second time with a person you kinda know is gonna die eventually must be scary

Oh okay well firstly! They aren't gods or anything like that, theyre just them with the magic to boot. All the changes in the world were brought upon by a virus outbreak that i call the AP virus (as reference to it as a fourth wall viewer, not as in what it's called in the story) that killed off most living things by rotting them from the inside-out. After the events of Binary Resurgence this virus causes an apocalypse that's basically the start of everything being re-evolutionized and magic resurfacing. Everything is affected and some species stay the same (like some humans) and some don't. This all happens within like ~2000 years after the plex burns down. It's inspired by adventure time if that helps give you a better idea.

Magic is a pre-exisiting thing that's been subdued by polution (its part of the earth, pollution kills the Earth blah blah blah) and also ignorance/neglect of practice. Like ive said before this story will have a sequel which is where all the magic happens (lol) and it's only really touched upon/used as a foreshadowing element in the first story.

Also sun and moon aren't quite literally the sandman and boogie man, sun wasnt even inspired by either. I actually just mashed the two concepts together for moon's design and skills. Sun is more-so based on a grave-digger,western cowboy kinda look with a witchy touch. And yes! They do know what happened to y/n, they remember everything. They had to LIVE through the apocalypse after y/n's death and then live through the world changing all over again. They actually do "die" (their battery goes kaput) for a hot second but magic doesn't let many things rest in the means of evolution and their body is revitalized.

And yeah meeting y/n again after all of that is fucking horrifying for them but it's also a blessing. Its a plot point actually, because over the years Sun hasnt become evil, persay, but he's a fucking nut lmao. He has been through Some Shit and is absolutely deranged and not always in the best way. His behavior and actions eventually cause some arguments and stuff. The sequel is gonna be more of a feel-good story though, to make up for the terrible way the first one is gonna end.

Yeah y/n is gonna eventually die again (not that i plan to write that but humans aren't immortal) but it isnt so much about that as it is about "things will go right this time". The first story was very much a "right person, wrong time" kinda thing. I wouldn't say it's slice of life, because i don't really like that genre by itself, but it has elements.

Basically i really liked the concept for the first story but i hate bad endings so i made a sequel to fix everything. Also i hope that answered your questions! If not then don't be shy about asking some more.

[bluejaysandblackbats]

Catch and Release

Fandom: DC Comics, Batfam

Summary: AU where Jason doesn't die in the explosion and he and Tim end up attending the same high school months later.

Chapters: 9/?

Characters: Jason Todd, Bruce Wayne, Alfred Pennyworth, Tim Drake, Dick Grayson, Barbara Gordon, Sebastian Ives, Jack Drake, Janet Drake

Relationships: TBA

Additional Tag: Jason Todd Lives, Jason Todd-centric, POV Jason Todd, POV First Person, Tim Drake Has Issues, Tim Drake Has Issues, Tim Drake is Not Robin, Jason Todd is Not Robin (Anymore), Bruce Wayne Needs a Hug, Alfred Pennyworth is the Best, Alfred Pennyworth Knows, Stalker Tim Drake, Jason Todd Has Chronic Pain, Jason Todd Has PTSD, Angst with a Happy Ending, Unlikely Friends, Injury Recovery, Emotional Baggage, Rage, Bruce Wayne is Bad at Communicating

Chapter Nine: Phone Call Home

When I woke up, I wanted to talk to Tim, but I felt so sick I spent half an hour in the bathroom running cool water over my head. Once I felt well enough, I traveled down the hall, looking for Tim... And I stumbled upon his darkroom. Tim was weird. I understood, but I didn't expect to see pictures of me in and out of costume. I turned on the red light. I looked around until I found a peg board with photos of Dick, Bruce, and me. He had several notes written underneath the pictures, pinned to the board. He must've been following us for years. He even had news clippings. I stumbled back. He already knew. He knew things that even I didn't. I left the room and shut the door before finding Tim and yanking him out of bed. "Jason, what's-?"

I shushed him. "When were you gonna tell me that you-? Tim, come with me," I commanded gently.

I dragged Tim behind me and gestured for him to open the darkroom door. Tim shook his head. "Tim, open the door. I want to talk to you in that room right now," I whispered.

"Before we go in there, I have something to tell you-."

"Tim, don't stall," I warned him. Tim shook his head.

"I'm not-." Tim took a deep breath in the dark hallway and looked down at his feet. "I'm not stalling. Jason, you're my best friend... And you're about to see things that aren't representative-. I want to be friends. I didn't know we'd get along so well... So I need you to know it was never my intention to use you."

Tears streamed down my cheeks. I wanted to be mad at him, but he wasn't lying. "Tim, you knew this whole time?" I asked. Tim nodded.

"I wanted you to know the world-." Tim ushered me into the darkroom. "I needed you to know the world needed Robin... I had no idea that the world needs Jason too."

"Do you still think that I should be Robin?" I questioned.

Tim chewed his lip. "I believe you are Robin," Tim whispered. I wiped my tears away, and I embraced him.

I finally had someone in my life who believed in me. Tim froze up. "Tim, you are the only person that hasn't shut me down... Thank you," I whispered.

"Were you guys arguing about that?" Tim questioned. I nodded, and Tim pulled up two chairs. I told him everything. I told him how I felt and how desperate I was to return to my normal. I cried through most of it, but he listened. He cared, but he didn't pity me. He didn't even flinch when I asked him to destroy the evidence of our secret identities. "Can do. Jason, you can stay here as long as you want, and once you get your cast off... I wouldn't mind helping you with whatever you want to do."

That's when it started. My plan. After Tim went to bed, I sat up all night planning ―which made my headache even worse― but I came up with something so perfectly chaotic that it would only require half the student body at my high school. I showered and changed into a pair of sweats and a T-shirt. Then I returned to sleep. When I woke up, Ives was arguing with Tim in a soft whisper. I took my medication out of the duffel and opened the door. "Do you guys have anything I can eat? I'm not supposed to take these on an empty stomach," I requested. Tim nodded and ran downstairs, leaving Ives with me. Ives was a nice guy.

"You okay? I hope we weren't too weird or anything yesterday... We really were excited to have you there," Ives smiled.

"Uh-huh, I'm okay... I haven't had fun in a long time, and I hope I can join you guys again sometime," I replied. Ives smiled.

"Yeah, that'd be sick. I swore Hudson was gonna cry when you chose to stand by him in battle," Ives chuckled. I laughed too. Tim's friends were alright. Even Hudson. He was a bit of a knucklehead, though.

Tim returned with pizza, and we ate it cold, straight out of the box. I took my medication and checked the calendar on my phone to look at my appointments. Ives' mom came to pick him up after breakfast, but he gave me his number first.

After he left, I played video games with Tim in the living room. "Are we okay?" Tim asked.

"We're better than that. We're brothers now," I replied. Tim grinned.

"Cool," Tim replied.

My phone rang. I wouldn't have answered, but it was Alfred. "Hey, Tim. Pause. This is Alfred," I whispered. He obeyed, and I answered the phone.

"Master Jason, are you somewhere safe?" Alfred asked.

"Mhm, I'm at my friend's house. He said I could stay here for a while... And Alfred, I'm sorry about the porch," I apologized, "And don't tell Bruce where I am."

"I wouldn't think of doing such a thing. Stay out of trouble, and tell your friend I said hello," Alfred whispered before hanging up.

"Alfred says hi, Tim," I announced. Tim smiled.

"Jason, did you sleep last night?" Tim questioned.

"No, but I was thinking about the pictures on your wall... Do you actually think a high school kid hacked WayneTech earlier this year?" I asked. Tim nodded. "Do you think you can figure out who he is?"

"Probably... Why?" Tim asked.

"I want to piss off some very important people, and I think this hacker might have what we need," I replied.

"Jason, can I ask what you're-?"

I shook my head. "It's not that I don't trust you... It's-. This won't work unless you're in the dark for most of it... Also, I need to help you make a replica of my old costume because you're gonna have to be my Robin," I explained. I don't think Tim heard anything after that. He got up and started buzzing around his room, looking for his laptop. I felt sick again, so I went to his bathroom and stuck my head in the sink again. My phone vibrated in my pocket, and I bumped my head on the faucet.

"Ouch! Jesus... Hello," I snapped as I answered the phone. I put it on speaker.

"Jason, you know I don't like to get involved in your stuff with Bruce-."

"Then don't," I replied. I had never talked to Barbara like that, but I was pissed.

"I get that you're mad and Bruce is being a complete bonehead... But you're acting like a child. If you want to prove him wrong, do that. Don't throw tantrums and run away from home. You're better than that," Barbara stated.

"You weren't there, Babs. I'd been swallowing my feelings on this for months. I'm sick of him. I've earned the right to flip out on him. How would you feel if he told you what he told me?" I asked.

"Jay, go home. Be pissed off if you wanna be. That's your right, but don't be childish-."

"I'm not being childish. I'm not going home because I don't feel at home there anymore. He told me that he couldn't handle being around me, that Gotham needed Batman, but do you know what he didn't say? The one thing that would've let me accept it all. He never once said he needed me or loved me. He didn't even say he wanted better for me. This is all about him and his ego. I'm his ghost, his failure, his fuel.

You have no idea how that feels. Bruce respects you. I'm barely even a person to him right now. Why would I give up my humanity to be someone's pathetic little rescue?" I interrupted.

"He could make you come home if he wanted to... But he hasn't. Bruce is trying. He sucks at it, but he's doing the best he can. If you can't control your temper or face him right now, at least let him know where you are," Barbara replied.

"Yeah, okay... You were probably gonna tell him where I am anyway. I'll text him, but I'm not going home. I'm staying put," I replied. Barbara didn't get it, but I couldn't fault her for it. I texted Bruce as I promised her, and I spit up in the sink.

"Jason? Are you alright?" Tim asked through the bathroom door.

"Yeah! I'm fine," I answered. The truth. I was only queasy from my migraine. I washed up and dried my hair before returning to Tim's room. He sat next to me on his bed, working on something on his computer, and the gentle click-clacking of his fingers on the keyboard lulled me to sleep.

[yanderes-galore]

hello! how are you? can i request yandere jill valentine with a darling that ends up taking the place of being brainwashed by wesker in jills place and how jill would be after the rescue of darling also can this be a one shot?

Sure, I've done something similar to this! I'll see what I got ^^

Here's a short with Chris that has a similar plot

Recovery

Yandere! Jill Valentine (RE5 AU) Short

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Angst, Unrequited love, Manipulation, Aftermath of brainwashing, Thoughts of murder/revenge, Drugging, Scar mentions, Very tame yandere behavior for the situation, Dubious relationship, Overprotective behavior, Blood mention.

Jill wishes things could've ended differently. She wishes you never followed her and Chris on that mission. She wishes she fought harder to protect you from Wesker...

Who is she to call herself your partner....

It broke Jill's heart when she finally saw you again. Brainwashed... experimented on... you were made Wesker's pet. Regret coursed through her even when she aided Chris and Sheva in your rescue.

Jill never told you her feelings, even before the mission you were kidnapped on. She hates that she didn't... she hates even more that she didn't rescue you. Even when she stopped the device on you from pumping you full of drugs... you still looked so empty.

Jill never let go of you after that....

She was adamant on accompanying you to somewhere safer, asking Chris to make Wesker pay for everything as much as she wanted to do it herself.

All because of her mistake you were now in a hospital bed. IVs flush your system of the P-30 drug while you rest, finally at ease. Jill sits beside you... hesitantly slipping a hand onto yours.

She wonders if her feelings for you were obvious back then. She wonders if you knew someone cared for you like she does. Such thoughts bring both hopeful yet hopeless feelings.

The more Jill thinks, the tighter her hold on you becomes. No one disrupts her moment with you. If they did, they'd see Jill's distant expression.

She pictures killing Wesker herself. She hopes Chris makes it painful. After all, that man took a partner from the both of them... you.

Jill feels your body twitch in your slumber. She quickly snaps her gaze to your fluttering eyelids, praying they'll open. For now... they do not... leaving her to drown in the sounds of the hospital machines.

Your recovery would be long... she knew that. Even when they remove any drug or active virus from your body, there's still more to do. You'll need therapy and testing of all sorts....

Jill promises to herself that she'll be with you through all of it. Chris will too, as you're all close friends due to your line of work. When it's all over... she'll tell you her feelings, too.

Jill smiles at the idea of it. When you're all better she plans to hold both of your hands... pulling you close into a thankful kiss while she whispers her feelings. She should have done it sooner.

The mere thought of what Wesker could've done to you has her blood boiling. She'd kill him hundreds of times if she could. This man... ruined everything.

Jill shakes her head and shuffles her seat closer. She sets her gaze on the scars from Wesker's experiments and device. Your once clear skin now red and marred....

Jill frowns, removing her hand from yours and reaching out to trace her finger across one of the scars. She must've caused you pain since you wince, eyes shooting open. Your eyes are wide and frantic, settling on her.

You seem to calm down slightly before taking in your surroundings. Beeping machines... bleak white walls... a depressing sight. Yet in the middle of it all sits Jill, a smile on her lips.

"Welcome back, Sunshine...." Jill teases, laying her hand on the hospital bed. You squint your gaze towards her, not emoting much. This makes Jill's smile falter for a moment.

"Jill...? Jill... it's been-"

"Did I hurt you?"

"Years. It's been years. Must've been agonizing for you, huh?" Her too....

"No. Not much, at least. That doesn't matter..." She fully turns towards you and shifts her hand to your forearm. You won't... mind her affection, will you? "What matters is your recovery."

"I'm sorry-"

"It's not your fault." Jill huffs, guilt settling in again. It's hers...."I just want you better. I plan to help you through it."

"... it won't be easy."

"I know." Jill gains the confidence to hold your hand, interlocking her fingers. You're surprised but don't fight it. "But I'll be here. I care for you... I..."

She wants to say she loves you. Despite her overwhelming feelings for you she holds back. Not now... you need to recover...

She could always tell you later.

"Jill... what about Wesker?"

"Hopefully dead six feet under by now." Jill seethes. "Don't bring him up." She wishes she was the one to kill him.

"Okay...."

Silence fall upon you both. Jill continues to hold your hand, relishing the feeling when you hold it tighter. For now... Jill will be patient.

She won't let anyone take you away again... If they tried, she'd be stronger this time. She'd fight tooth and nail to keep you... all because she loves you.

"... Jill?" She hears your voice, turning back.

"Yeah?"

"Thanks for caring for me..." You smile, squeezing her hand. Jill's face reddens and she wonders if you know. She clears her throat softly.

"Of course..." Jill leans forward, smiling. "I'd do anything for you."

Jill means every word she says. She'd lean over to kiss you and tell you she's yours if she could.... Jill's patient for you, however.

While she waits for you to recover, Jill promises to protect you even if she couldn't before.

Even if she's covered in blood to protect you and isolates you from everything in the end... she'd do it all to see you smile for her.

[toaster-hair]

There’s a Human in the Neighborhood! (chapter 5)

(important authors note: Hi nyall :3! Sorry i havent written in so long, ive been more hyperfixated on other things like across the spiderverse and lolita fashion, and i’ve also been working on other projects. I have a skullgirls au tumblr blog, my original comic raw!fruit, im redrawing the welcome homes cast’s portraits with my own headcanons added, as well as general oc content. But with welcome homes new update, it motivated me to write again. I feel as though when welcome home is finally finished up, ill rewrite this entire fic to make much more sense. Anyways, heres a content warning. As said before, this fic focuses on how gross human anatomy can confuse wholesome puppets. Its a bit hard to write about gross anatomy stuff without veering into nsfw territory, so suggestions would be appreciated. But this chapter in particular is about periods! The fic is written about a gender neutral AFAB reader, so if youre amab or if periods are just off the table for you, feel free to skip!)

A painful stab at your stomach woke you up from your slumber. “Ough..” your sudden movement spooked your cat. You held your torso in pain, feeling a sharpness in your pants. It was still dark, with the only light being the sun coming through your blinds. You stood up, making your way to the bathroom and….

Blood. Lots and lots of blood stained your undergarments. That explained the sudden pain you were feeling, it was just that time of the month! You went back to your bedroom to make sure you didn’t bleed the bed, grabbed some clean clothes, and turned the shower on. You also grabbed some pads out of the cabinet under the sink. You brought them from your old house but you should probably buy some more later.

You stepped into your shower and let the warm water soak your body head to toe, flourishing yourself with all kinds of soap. Once you were finally cleaned up, you stepped out and dried yourself. You put on your clean clothes, grabbed some pain killers, and went back to bed.

-

You woke up once again a few hours later. You got up, did your morning routine, had breakfast, fed your cat, and picked up the phone. You decided you would call in sick because of the pain and nausea. God, why does the first day have to be the most painful? You dialed the number for FishEgg Boba and waited for an answer.

“Helloo? This is FishEgg Bobaaa. How may I help youuu?” You heard Casper answer the phone.

“Hey Casper, It’s Y/N. Uhh.. I know it’s only my second day but I’m calling in sick. I’ve got… cramps real bad. I don’t wanna move that much. Is that okay?” 

“Oooh. Sure that’s fiiine. Just make sure to come in tomorroww. See you thenn. Hope you feel better sooon.” And with that, he ended the call. You felt kind of bad. It was only your second day, and you were taking a break already. You were probably missing out on some training too! But at the same time, everyone made it seem like yesterday you were working too hard when you weren’t even on your period! You can’t imagine what it’ll be like to work like that while on your period. 

You then remembered your plan to get more pads. You were good for now, but it was always a good idea to stock up. You put on some outdoor clothes consisting of some basic gym sweats and a baggy jacket. You gave your kitty a goodbye kiss on the forehead and headed out the door. Gee, this was the second time in a row that you went to Howdy’s. 

Wait… Oh yeah they’re puppets. I forgot. I mean you forgot that they were puppets. Of course they won’t have pads. You went back inside and grabbed some money, looks like you were heading out of town after all. As you headed back out again, you spotted Wally walking out of his house as well. You walked over to him, sense you promised you would chat in the morning last night.

“Hey Wally! You wanted to talk more this morning, right?” you stared down at him. 

“Oh! Yes! I wanted to know about how it went. Ah, but shouldn’t you be at work right now?” he asked.

“Oh, uh.. Yeah, the thing is that I’m uh, not feeling very well. So I’m taking the day off. I’m going back tomorrow though.”

“Ah, I see. You aren’t sick again, are you? Do you want me to go get Poppy?” He held at your knees like a dog jumping on its owner. 

“No, no. Not sick, it's just.. I may gross you out at the explanation?” You gestured with your hands “Is that okay?” You asked. He stared at you with a blank expression but nodded his head.

“Okay so basically uh.. When a human with a womb starts puberty.. Uh, and a womb is used for baby making purposes by the by, their womb starts to shed for a couple of days straight each month. That’s because the womb wants to make a baby but doesn’t have the ingredients to make one, causing the womb to pump out blood. This can cause pain, nausea, all that nasty stuff. That’s just a basic explanation, anyways.” He kind of just. Stared at you with half lidded eyes the entire time. “Uh, I don’t need to explain what blood is right?”

“Oh no, we have that too.”

…

What. 

“W-wait, if you’re bleeding.. Then.. did you just start puberty??” There was this look of anxiety on his face, which felt so odd and out of character.

“No, no, you still bleed even after puberty. Well, that is until you hit your 60’s or something. It’s not gonna go away for a while.. Haha, if I was still that young, I wouldn’t even be here!” You laughed at him a bit. He let out a sigh of relief. 

“Sorry.. I don’t know much about how human bodies work…” He looked away out of embarrassment.

“Oh, I can show you.” You reassured him. “Ah- What??” He stared at you slightly horrified, slightly considering your offer.

“Yeah dude, there’s a ton of books about human anatomy. Going from the bone to the skin. I can order you one online! If you want, of course.” You pulled out your phone and showed him various different anatomy books.

“Oh… No thanks, I'm fine.” He turned down your offer in a slightly disappointed tone.

“That’s fine. I need to go out of town for a bit to go get something, see you later!” You waved goodbye as you started to walk to the train station. You then suddenly felt a sharp pain in your stomach, but you kept on walking.

You couldn’t see him, but you knew he was waving goodbye right back at you.

(A/N: i wrote this in one night i hope you enjoy!! Ill try to include sally and julie in the next chapter :3333)