#i know i've posted about this before. probably Forty Times.

[elliesflower]

hii, i love your work so much <3 can u write smth about reader and abby (in a pre established relationship) where readers mind just goes completely blank as she stares at abbys arms when she works out or literally does anything and abby notices and fucks her hard and uses her strength to do whatever she wants with reader? would also be nice if u could write smth about overstimulation <3 i know its not a noticeable detail for this req but pls write black!reader bc i am too and need some abby for myself tysm 🫶

what you need [abby anderson]

pairing; abby x black fem!reader

cw; top!abby, bottom!reader, strap-on usage (r!recieving), overstimulation, dirty talk/gendered pet names, kinda leaning on bimbo/subspace territory

an; thank u so much for this request sweetheart! i hope u enjoy, please let me know what u think!! i'm sorry the ending is a little rushed, i've literally been trying to post this for like three weeks lmfao. also i did not proofread this v well so if u see a mistake no u dont <3

tags; @scandalcus @prrimordiais @roarriita

18+ only, mdni!!!!

you don’t consider yourself weak. 

but when you were looking at abby, perhaps you were. just a bit. 

“babe? the chalk,” abby’s voice snapped you out of your thoughts and you shook your head slightly, as if it would get rid of them, reaching behind you to grab the chalk before crossing the room to hand it to her. 

“thanks,” she didn’t even look at you, and you almost huffed. you’ve been with her at the gym for what feels like hours now, even though it’s probably only been more like thirty minutes. you started out just walking on the treadmill, but got bored pretty quickly when you realized you could be watching your girlfriend train instead. 

she was training for a pr on her deadlift, and she was getting close. you’d barely seen her this week—when she wasn’t on patrol, she was in the gym. you fell asleep before she got home almost every night, and when you woke up, she was already gone. it was driving you crazy, and now that you were together, she still was barely paying you any mind. 

she rubbed the chalk between her hands, clapping them out on her thighs before positioning herself behind the bar. you sat back down behind her and watched as she bent over, gripping the metal bar, her forearms flexing as she adjusted her grip. you practically had to wipe the drool away from your mouth as you watched her begin to lift, admiring the way her veins popped out from beneath her skin, her shoulders glistening with sweat as her muscles flexed with the effort it took to lift the weights. 

her brows were knit together in concentration as she watched herself in the mirror, gritting her teeth together and keeping her breath as controlled as possible. you couldn’t help but to feel flustered as she panted, imagining the sounds in a…much different context.

the sound of the weights clattering to the ground snapped you out of your head for a second time, and you flinched, watching as abby smiled at herself in the mirror, flexing and slapping her bicep. 

“yeah, that’s right,” she spoke, and oh, that sounded eerily similar to her bedroom voice, “that’s what i’m fucking talking about! did you see that shit?” she turned to face you now, still grinning from ear-to-ear. “beat my pr by forty pounds, i gotta get manny in here tomorrow to verify because that shit is going up on the board.”

you smiled up at her, nodding—but it was kind of hard when you were also focused on pressing your thighs together, trying to ignore the fact that somewhere along the line, your panties had become damp, sticking delicately to your folds as you watched abby training. her mouth twitched just slightly at the corner, and you swallowed. you knew abby could read you like the back of her hand, no matter how hard you tried to hide from her. 

“something wrong, baby?” she asked, feigning concern. her tank top was covered in sweat around the neckline, her forehead glistening under the fluorescents as she walked toward you. you shook your head, a bit too quickly, and it was telling. your throat felt dry, your brain absolutely scrambled as you looked up at her. she stopped directly in front of you, towering over you so that you had to strain your neck to look up at her. if there wasn’t a giant wall of windows to the left of you, you couldn’t be sure you wouldn’t just sink down to your knees and kiss her fucking feet. she looked like an angel—scratch that, god—above you as you watched her through your lashes, stomach tying in knots. 

she wasn’t saying anything. she was just looking at you, breathing heavy, with half of that stupid smile still on her face. you focused your own breathing, in and out, but it didn’t help that she was so close you could smell her, sweaty musk that could only smell good on her, and it was making you dizzy. and she fucking knew it too. 

“alright then,” she said finally, bending down to your level so that your faces were mere inches apart. “what d’you say we go clean up and meet jordan and leah for dinner?” oh, right. there was that. you could only nod, and abby’s eyes were wild, flickering down to your mouth before meeting yours again. 

“let’s go.” her voice was sharp, commanding, and she went to retrieve her gym bag. you sat silently for another moment, trying to will yourself to calm down, just a bit. you knew you’d get back to the room and she wouldn’t be able to resist—she’d have you pinned up against the wall before you could even blink. 

except, she didn’t. she tossed her bag to the ground and began gathering things for her shower, effectively ignoring, even as you changed out of your shirt extra slowly, just waiting for her to turn around and catch you. but she didn’t, and didn’t even say another word as she slipped out the door to take a shower. you scrunch your brows together, lips pouting slightly as you get dressed for dinner, making sure to put on a clean pair of underwear. you were so worked up, part of you wanted to touch yourself, right here and now—but you didn’t even want to think about how long abby might make you wait if she came back and found you knuckle deep in your pussy. so you didn’t.

dinner with leah and jordan was pleasant. leah’s cooking was insane, as always, and jordan and abby caught up on some big assignment that was coming up, still paying you little attention. after dinner, you were excited to get back to your room, practically salivating at the thought of what abby might do to you, but jordan just had to suggest watching a movie. and of course, abby just had to agree. 

you were a bit surprised when abby pulled you onto her lap on the couch, seeing as she had practically been avoiding you like the plague since the gym, and oh—she was packing.

leah rested her head on jordan’s lap on the loveseat beside you, their bodies conveniently angled just so that you were out of view. your eyes widened, breath hitching as abby snaked her arm around your waist, pulling you further back into her as she readjusted her position against the couch, effectively grinding her hips up into you. you bit your lip as you leaned back into her, glancing over at leah and jordan to confirm they couldn’t see you. she smelled like pine and her hair was down, fuck she looked so good with her hair down. 

“wassa’ matter babe?” abby whispered against your neck, and you shivered. “you’re so tense.” she punctuated her point with a hand on your shoulder, her thumb pressing into the junction of your neck. 

“nothing,” you lied, trying to keep your voice quiet and steady. “just watching the movie.” and thinking about abby flipping you over and railing you into next week. but you didn’t say that part. you didn’t even know what movie was playing. 

“mhm,” she murmured behind you, her hand trailing around your middle to meet her other, pressing you even further against her. you could feel her cock pressing into your ass, and you had to bite back a moan. you reached to grasp at her wrists, your fingers not even wrapping around the girth of them, trying to grind your hips for just a little bit of friction—anything, you’d take anything you could get at this point—but she only tightened her grip, halting your movements. 

“stop squirming,” she said quietly. “m’trying to watch the movie.” it was really unfair, how her voice was so steady, and her breathing so even. meanwhile, you thought you might explode, nails digging into her skin as you tried your best to ignore the heat in your stomach, and how you were definitely ruining this pair of panties as well. 

she held you like that, for a few minutes longer, or hours, maybe, how long was this fucking movie? your pussy was clenching and unclenching, your heart beating out of control as you tried to ignore the feeling of abby beneath you to no avail. 

suddenly, thankfully, she relinquished her hold on your waist, smoothing her hands down the expanse of your bare thighs. 

“hey, i’m getting pretty tired. i’ve gotta be up pretty early, i think we’re gonna turn in,” she said over the movie, and jordan craned his neck to look at the pair of you standing up. you really hoped your face didn’t give away how insanely flustered you felt. leah was passed out in his lap, and he gave you both a nod and bid you goodnight. 

in the hallway, abby was back to ignoring you. you could barely keep up with her as she strode ahead. you were aching at this point, genuinely surprised you weren’t leaking straight down your thighs as you watched her back muscles flex beneath her shirt. you loved this game. and she knew it too. 

she stopped just outside your door, leaning against the frame and crossing her arms as she waited for you to unlock it. before you could get both feet through the doorway, she was right behind you, chest pressing against your back as she ushered you inside, closing the door behind her and spinning you around so that she could press you against it. you gasped, flattening your palms against the door as you looked at her, your head trapped between her arms. you burned under her gaze, stomach tightening and legs going weak. 

“don’t think i didn’t see your face in the mirror while i was training,” she said quietly, grabbing the back of your neck to keep your eyes on her. you were so fucking horny you didn’t have the semblance to be ashamed as she all but taunted you.

“hm? just watching me work out gets you all hot and bothered?” you felt like your neck might snap from nodding so hard. abby laughed quietly at you, the sound only turning you on more. 

“yeah i know, because you know i could take you any way i wanted and you wouldn’t even have to lift a finger. so fucking spoiled,” she was teasing you, and you whined. “you’ve been so patient with me this week,” she pressed her lower half against you, using her hand to press the side of your face into the door, making you once again aware of the silicone cock in her pants. she could feel your pulse thrumming against her fingers, exciting her. “gonna make it all better now, okay? i’m gonna give you what you need…” her lips were ghosting over your ear, and you were quite literally trembling in her grasp, taking in a shaky breath as you waited patiently. 

“so good for me,” she grabbed you by the jaw, before she placed a kiss on your lips and pulled back, causing you to let out a pitiful whine. 

“tell me what you want,” her lids were heavy as she looked at you, her poor, poor baby—lips parted, eyes glazed over, panting with a desperate need. you pouted slightly. surely she’d give in, right? she’s already had you waiting for so long. 

she gripped your jaw tighter, making you gasp as she pressed you further into the door. you were helpless, completely at her mercy, her strength always hyper evident when she had you like this. “c’mon, tell me what you want.” you felt tears welling in your eyes, balling your hands into fists as she watched your face. 

“use me,” your voice broke through, small and weak. somehow, abby’s face remained stoic, though you saw her draw in a sharp breath. she pulled her hand away to tap at your cheek, not quite a slap, but enough that you were whining. 

“manners,” she reprimanded, withdrawing her hand completely. you let a tear fall as you were overcome with frustration, emptiness–

“please, use me, please abby, i missed you,” and it was pathetic, how a sob escaped your lips. but it was okay, because you knew she’d make it all better, her eyes going soft for a moment before she was pulling you in, slotting your lips together in a messy kiss. you could taste as your tears mixed with saliva, letting her suck your tongue into her mouth before trailing her hands down to your ass, grabbing a handful and squeezing. 

“jump,” she mumbled against your lips, and you obliged, letting her pull you in as you wrapped your legs around her waist. she carried you across the room with ease, and you couldn’t help but try to press deeper against her lower half.

“so fuckin’ pretty baby,” she mumbled against you, and she was setting you down on the table. “was so hard to not to just bend you over that couch and fuck you like you deserve,” oh god, oh fuck, you were moaning against her mouth, letting her hands find the hem of your shirt before she was pulling it off over your head, exposing your breasts. 

“bet you’d like that, hm? letting me fuck you in front of our friends, show them how dirty you really are?” she rasped, her voice holding a desperate edge. you whined at the notion, the fact that she was just as desperate for you as you were for her. you nodded pathetically as she rubbed a thumb across your sensitive nipples, drawing your bottom lip between your teeth as you gripped the edge of the table. 

she dipped her head down, swirling her tongue over one of your nipples and you threaded your fingers through her hair, gripping tightly as your head fell back in ecstasy, mouth falling open in a silent moan. she kissed her way back up to your mouth as you panted heavily. she wasn’t even teasing you, she was so desperate, the heat radiating off her body as she continued messily kissing up to your neck, your jaw, back to your mouth where she parted your lips with her own, fumbling with the button of your jeans. 

“yeah, i know baby, i know,” her voice was like velvet, scratchy and soft at the same time against your lips. “just need me to take care of you, huh? that it?” she was practically manhandling you to lift your hips up and pull off your pants and panties, your tailbone connecting rather harshly with the wooden table once you were exposed—you didn’t have the semblance to be embarrassed at how it barely even hurt as your body was overwhelmed with adrenaline, with desire, with abby. 

“yes, god,” you threw your head back, wrapping your legs around her waist to draw her in closer as she sucked a fresh mark into your neck, and then another, and another, leaving you grinding helplessly against her, your wetness allowing you to rub your clit directly against the bulge in her pants. your whining was pornographic, desperate and loud, the friction clouding your mind with ecstasy. “missed you so much, abs, please–”

“fuckin’ needy,” she gritted, pressing on your lower back to get you even closer, eliciting a gasp from your mouth as you clutched onto her shoulder with one hand while the other kept you steady on the table. “barely been a week and you just need it that bad, can’t even wait for my cock?” her words were filthy, and your grinding even filthier, desperate and rough, like you were a bitch in heat—abby’s strong arm was keeping you in place as you took your pleasure, the feeling overwhelming your body as you panted and gasped, and oh, since when were you able to cum this fast? “c’mon baby, that’s it– take what you need, i got you.”

it must have barely been five seconds before you were losing it, body tensing as your hips stuttered, feeling your wetness absolutely drenching the front of abby’s pants. “oh m’godm’godfuckingchrist–” you babbled incoherently as she held you through it, murmuring praises and trying to hide her own groans by biting down into your shoulder. your used clit was puffy and sore against the rough fabric of her pants as you came down, whining as abby reached between your bodies. 

“such a fucking good girl, my god,” she praised, giving you no time to recover as she ran her fingers through your slick folds. you moaned, your thighs closing around her arm instinctively as she explored your wetness, slipping two fingers inside with ease. 

“abby, s’too much, please,” your voice was pitiful, broken and whiny as you gripped her arm, your words inconsistent with the way your walls fluttered around her fingers as she opened you up, unable to resist her, even when it felt like too much—because you know it wasn’t too much. in fact, maybe it wasn’t enough. abby knew your body, exactly how you needed to be taken apart, brought to your peak and taken care of.

“yeah? you don’t want this then?” she taunted, and took her fingers out so that she was just teasing your entrance. 

“no!” you gasped, the empty feeling making your stomach twist, tears streaming down your face. “please, i- i can take it, please, i’m sorry,” you begged, would practically say anything or do anything at this point. but you knew abby wouldnt make you wait long, smirking at you before pressing her fingers back in just as quickly as she’d pulled out. she couldn’t resist you, especially after not having you for an entire week. 

“i know you can baby, such a good girl,” she was working her fingers into you rapidly now, determined to make you come on her fingers again before she impaled you on her strap.and it wouldn’t take long, what with your sensitive cunt being abused again. you were shaking, could feel your wetness pooling beneath you, ruining the table as you moaned and panted. “c’mon, let go for me baby, let go,” her voice washed over you, started as the sweat on your hairline until it was making your stomach twist, your thighs tremble and your toes curl, your pussy gushing out for the second time already that night. 

“fuck,” you whined, clenching desperately around nothing as she pulled her fingers out of you, digging your nails into her shoulder as she ran a finger over your swollen clit again, making you gasp out her name, broken and pitiful. your heart was beating out of your chest, watching abby draw her fingers up to your mouth. your lips parted automatically, allowing her to press her fingers in, pressing down on your tongue as you sucked your juices off of her. 

“yeah, that’s it,” she breathed. “clean up your mess baby.” so full of love and adoration, but she wanted more. you could see it in her eyes as they flashed something wild, and knew she wasn’t planning on stopping. watching your pleasure was doing something to her she couldn’t even explain, practically moaning at the sight and feeling of you sucking on her fingers.

you were tired, your multiple orgasms after a dry spell catching up to you quickly, and abby could sense your sudden change in demeanor—your eyes drooping slightly as you sucked lazily on her fingers, your index finger holding onto one of her belt loops to keep you upright. you were a sight, your juices spilled all over the table, your thighs sticky and messy with your arousal. she almost took pity on you, almost. but she knew her good girl could take just one more. 

and you knew it too, what with the way she was looking at you. the thought made you feel dirty, and made you moan around her fingers, grasping on her wrist as you started sucking on them just a little bit harder, that little flame in your tummy igniting once more. you watched abby’s eyes darken as you sped up, her chest rising and falling quicker as she felt your tongue wrapping around her fingers.

“oh m’god, baby,” she groaned, and she withdrew her fingers, a string of saliva dribbling down your chin as she shuffled backwards to undo her pants. “i gotta fuck you baby, gotta give you what you deserve,” she was rambling as you leaned back on your elbows, your legs twitching as the cool air washed over your damp pussy, on display for your girlfriend. “gonna give you this cock baby don’t worry.”

“please abby,” and unspoken was please take care of me, please fuck me, please do anything you want to me, and she would. there was no doubt. you could barely see the black silicone spring free from down the line of your body as you were laid back on the table. 

“i know baby, i know,” abby gripped your hip with one hand, her blunt nails digging into the flesh with a delicious sting, and you tried to pull back when the tip of her strap brushed over your over-sensitive clit. it made your brain all fuzzy, your whole body tingling with the over-sensitivity, the push and pull of wanting more but feeling so used. “just let me in, you can take it,” she was practically cooing, teasing your entrance as you writhed on the table, tears streaming down your cheeks as you tried to watch. 

“abby!” you cried as she pushed past the tight ring of muscle, your back arching so that you sat up higher, the angle pressing her cock right against your most delicate spot. abby’s hand immediately came around to your back, holding you up before you dead-weighted and hit your head on the wooden table. 

“i got you, angel, you’re okay,” she was mesmerized, watching the way your body responded to her. you were so fucked out, the feeling of her cock stretching you out making you whine and pant and feel so fucking dirty. “c’mon baby, sit up. hands around my neck, you can do it,” she was pulling you up, and you obliged, reaching up to wrap your arms lazily around her neck. she snaked both arms around your waist and lifted you up off the table, causing you to cry out and bury your face into her neck. 

“that’s it, just relax,” she kept herself nestled deep inside you, almost pressed against your cervix when you wrapped your legs around her waist and whined pitifully, the sound muffled by abby’s shirt. her hands snaked down to your ass to keep you spread open as she held you still and began to thrust slowly up into your sore cunt. 

“oh m’god abby, jesus,” you cried as she fucked into you with seemingly no effort, your wet pussy making obscene noises each time she pulled out. you were already teetering right on the edge, and the feeling of her cock filling you up was going to be your downfall. she groaned each time she felt you tensing in her grip, and she was faltering with her own arousal. 

“such a good fucking girl,” she was almost growling, and you were so close, so fucking close, your juices dribbling out indecently around her as she fucked you to overstimulation. “taking everything i give you…is my pretty girl going to come again for me? hm?” you could do nothing but nod as abby bounced you up and down on her thick cock, desperate to bring you to your release. 

“well c’mon then,” she whispered against the side of your face and your eyes rolled back into your head as your pussy tightened around her, nearly suffocating her with your arms as your body was overwhelmed by your third orgasm of the night. a broken mantra of abby abby abby abby spilling from your lips as you tumbled over the edge again. 

“that’s it baby, fuck,” abby’s voice was almost as broken as yours, pulling you closer into her hips as you cried into her shoulder. 

“my fucking best girl.”

[tinytennisskirt]

TINYTENNISSKIRT PERSONAL FAVES & PERSONAL SUMMARIES (CHALLENGERS)

summarizing my favourite fics that I've written so maybe if you haven't read them, you find reason to. Not in any specific order.

More Than Anything- Art Donaldson

I love this one a lot personally. It was a request and although I had to stretch to make ends meet, I am a huge fan of friends to lovers. I love childhood best friend! Art so much. He's a cutie. But thats what this is, childhood best friends to lovers but the platonic doesn't change. It just alters. The miscommunication, the misunderstanding of Patrick's words to reader are hurtful and they change things but Art fixes it and brings it all back together? I was already in love. It's worse. A kiss ending with a HUG ending is a weakness for sure.

Cottage Culture- Art Donaldson

It's an Art fic but it definitely doesn't lack Patrick. I love the dynamic I wrote for reader and the boys- its very established that they are long time friends and are very comfortable with each other. There's a lot of casual touching which means a lot to me. I love it. But Art who has feelings ugh love him for it. It's that thing with the trio where the connection between reader and Art is just a little bit more intimate in the ways that matter. Just a hint, but it makes so much difference. Plus a kiss in the water? Need. This fic takes place at a cottage away from the world and takes place over the course of a few days, so there's so many instances of attraction and so many POVS. It's also very summery so if you're feeling like a cottage getaway with your two fav challengers boys, this is perfect.

Let It Linger- Art Donaldson

I think I'm probably most proud of this fic. It took forever to write and I actually gave up twice, but it got completed. It's like an AU of the movie itself, but it bounces back and forth like a tennis ball on a court from Art's time at MRTA to post-canon divorced! Art who is searching for his old best friend at their 15 year high school reunion. I really really love this one because it's very friendship and yearning oriented. How close reader and Art get to being together before they fall out and into no contact for fifteen years but he sees her again and talking to her again feels like no time has passed? Finding out that fifteen years ago, reader liked him too? I really like writing super non-romantic romantic scenes like the simple things and the simple conversations between reader and Art that are so specifically somehow intimate though they're trying to make it feel like it's not. It's friends to lovers but in a way that isn't exactly satisfied. It's honestly so fucking good, I loveeee this one.

Sweetheart- Patrick Zweig

an AU where Patrick is a girl dad is just the perfect universe. He's a single dad in a cluttered house with an absolute angel genius of a daughter and reader is considerably younger than him. She's twenty, he's nearing forty. It's not inherently romantic at first, it's just banter, but he's soooo dirty. He can't help but think about her in a way that isn't exactly holy. And she's got some semi-innocent crush on him. He goes on dates but every night he comes home and has his little bits of banter with her and things get increasingly harder to manage over time. He might actually like her which is crazy, but I never specifically wrote that he does like her in any way that isn't sexual because I wanted the reader to kind of be in the not-knowing because why would anyone expect his character in this to be ACTUALLY into the twenty-year-old babysitter? This one is a smut and it's honestly really tasty and rough, but the ending is what is supposed to get you like 'ah, I see. feelings.'

Best Friend Patrick Zweig who is Totally Not In Love With You

This was my second headcanons list and I somehow ended up giving it a plot, so it's not just headcanons. It's a list of things Patrick does as your best friend who has feelings for you. The list format is loose, it's a headcanon and then it's like... written dialogue underneath the headcanon to explain it so it's more engaging. I really enjoyed tapping into my autism like 'yeah, he'd do that'. It's got all the good stuff like some jealousy, some quiet yearning, He's repressing his feelings which I love because it's so him. He and reader have a good dynamic and it's NOT ONLY x reader but it's also NOT ONLY headcanons. It's a good mix!!!

Those Three Words- Patrick Zweig

I'm honestly a little unreasonably obsessed with this one. It was such a small but well-written request I just HAD TO make it extra. I honestly never really plan out the way my fics go other than knowing the basics. But the aspects are always just as I go. Patrick going from a player to set on ONE girl for the first time in his life is wild and crazy and he likes her and gets her number but they're friends for months before they start dating. Reader becomes one of his best friends and it's lovely and fun and he's so into her. Surprisingly so. Like even takes him by surprise but it's so fun to write Patrick who is actually IN LOVE for the first time WHAT SO CRAZY. I love domestic life kinds of romance and yeah he says I love you so soon, but he means it. And he gets a bit of a monologue and it's funny and he's soft with her which I love and adore.

Just some behind the scenes thoughts. All fics are linked at their titles! Also just a sly little reminder that I LOVEEEEE comments. Your thoughts and feedback mean the world to me. Also, requests are open always <3333

[makoredeyes]

Keep it coming you say? 👀 I saw that tag! I'm ~quite~ bored, so here's a couple questions/whatever they're considered, lol.

Yes, flattery will get me very far here, indeed! To where? I do not know, but whatever, compliments! You deserve them. I'm rather sure my friends are tired of hearing me go on and on about destiny characters, ':)

How's your writing wip's going so far? I'm waiting very (im)patiently for any updates, I've totally not re-read everything forty-two times.. hope their all going well!

A little self indulgence here, but I like to think Andal Brask was the Hunter Vanguard when Osiris and Saint-14 were in, because.. come on, I'm rather sure the time frame adds up. I like to believe before, because their dynamic just seems really fun to me. Lots of great opportunities. (I partly blame that one fanart sylenth-l made of Andal and Osiris for this, it was really funny). What do you think their dynamic would be like?

What do you think it'd be like if the Iron Lords mysteriously came back alive? 👀 I'm talking, SIVA couldn't actually kill them because their ghosts hid in the light in their bodies, and SIVA only goes after non-organic materials right? Maybe it couldn't work it's way into the light, and as long as their ghost + light are intact, = alive. But *only* after the Warmind managed to get control over SIVA and free their physical bodies from harm? It's a thought I had, influenced by a few fics but I quite like the idea. Just imagine, a ghostless, lightless Osiris receiving word that maybe, they weren't as dead as he thought they were. Or Fel and Timur coming back only to realize what happened to Osiris?? Poor Sagira?? Learning lady Efrideet's alive? 👀 (Is that her name?)

Or perhaps, In this one fic, it's Timur and his special, take over your will little stunt he has, was keeping SIVA at bay, I think that's pretty neat too! So many possibilities! (If you were the one that wrote these, I hope you see this as a compliment cause I am not about to go dig through Ao3 to find them xD)

Either way, it'd be like a modern!au of the iron lords, for them at least, hah (I can just imagine Gheleon having a mental breakdown that their memorial involved fighting one another)

I can't really think of anything, but rest assured I will *probably* be back once I'm dome tormenting my poor boy Tevis

Ahaha yeesss YESSSS I feed me I'm such an attention whore lmao RIP XD. (fr tho bless you ;_; )

I am writing! There are longer gaps between posts rn because I have lots going on in my life, but also, because I am working on many fics at once. I counted the other day I have 26 WIPs but six I am actively working on in concert - three for Housefire that are all directly intermingled plot and timing-wise to the point where I'm not even entirely sure what order I'll be posting them in yet, another chapter for Things Found (I am trying to stay 2 chapters ahead with that to make sure I have a cohesive story for it), and two XXX stand-alone one-shots! I should fish out another teaser for everyone soon. I think it'll be one of the one-shots that makes it out next tbh they're the furthest along. But the naughty stuff is also the slowest to get written bc I yanno...can't write that stuff at work, etc. haha. But I've felt a new wind of motivation lately for writing and am picking away at these projects pretty regularly. <3

I'm going to admit I am not very well-read on the hunter squad in general, BUT iirc I believe Andal was Vanguard during the City Age. He was definitely around as I recall his presence in the comics. The problem with that time is that Osiris was largely absent. This was when the Cult of Osiris was gaining traction, and Osiris' obsession with the Darkness and the Vex was really heating up. He was neglecting his duties to the Vanguard (with Ikora often standing in as proxy for him) and he wasn't really paying attention to anyone else. Like. At all. There was a lot of unhappy tension even with Saint at that time. Andal, by all accounts, was a damn good fella though, and while I think just about everyone nettled Osiris, Andal also stuck up for him where he could. Even if Osiris couldn't appreciate that in the moment I'm sure he would come to later. I look at Osiris and see him as he is now, with some hard lessons learned and some hard losses under his belt, realizing a little too late some of the damn good souls he had in his court, Andal included. All of that said, 100% in a lighter, easier setting, a free-spirit like Andal (and/or Cayde...heaven forbid them both together!) would drive a stuffed shirt like Osiris up an absolute freaking wall with pure comical results, hands down.

(a side note, a brain storm, an insane thought that just poisoned my brain - a sweeter moment hidden from time: Andal's guitar and this gift of song Saint has hinted Osiris has....??????! I'm not melting it's just hot in here, right???)

As for Ironsbane and SIVA... I have INDEED put an awful lot of thought into this. Quite a lot. So much. I have my own ideas on ways to circumvent the disaster, O Reader Mine, but you're going to have to wait a while longer for me to write it. :3 (Housefire is, after all, ultimately, a fixit )

*but no SIVA attacks whatever it is programmed to, organic or not: and Rasputin set it on hundreds of Iron Lords and wiped them all out with the sole exception Efrideet and Saladin with the directives “REPLICATE, ELIMINATE, IMMUNIZE” it was not what SIVA was made to do but he deliberately repurposed it into a weapon. (I could go on for years about Rasputin and his darker epochs, but especially his misappropriation of SIVA lol)

** Your mention of Timur and his spooky skills DID remind me of another fic I need to get back to as well OTL TT_TT I still have requests I took in January I have yet to complete. At this rate it's going to take me all year to get them all done and by then I'll be taking more aahaha whuups.

[anexistingexistence]

Yk with "do you wanna be a vampire" being a question Darlin' actually has to consider now, I feel like I should put my mustard on this conversation and also advertise a book I like because I have no shame. (Spoiler warning for the Green Creek series by Tj Klune from here on out)

In the Green Creek series (I forgot whether this happened in the first or the second book and am too lazy to check (and even if I wasn't I'd just end up getting distracted by Gordo and Mark's sexual tension and nobody wants a Gordo/Mark post from me)) after Ox tells the guys from the garage about werewolves and magic and all that shit and makes them his pack, the question of turning them into wolves at some point arises. Jessie and Chris state outright that they never want to be turned, which is fair, and Tanner talks a lot with Elizabeth to learn all he can about being a werewolf before making a choice. The way the topic is concluded for the first two books is that Rico and Tanner ask to be turned if their life is at stake while Jessie and Chris want to remain human. And I think Darlin' would take a very similar approach to their potential vampire turning as Tanner has in Wolfsong/Ravensong. Their first instinct might be "fuck that - absolutely not" but I think apart from just heeding Sam's advice and spending a lot of time with the pack and their (inner) wolf, they'd also consult with Vincent/Lovely, Bright/Fred, and other vampires they might know in regards to all there is to know about being a vampire. In the end, I think their decision might come down to the same one Rico made in Wolfsong/Ravensong, which is that if they're going to die, they want to be turned. However, vampires in the Redactedverse work the way (I assume) most vampire depictions do, which is they stop aging rather than continuing to or reverting to their "prime" age the way vampires in some stories do. So if Darlin' were to die at say 86 years old because they can't see anymore and fell down the stairs and Sam turned them, then that following vampire life probably wouldn't be a fun one (or maybe it would be. I've never met (/read) a vampire whose body was old and wrinkly before so how would I know). Therefore, I'd say that Darlin' might agree to be turned in a life or death situation, but only as long as they're still of an age they can see themself living as until (potentially) the end of time, e.g., they might agree to Sam turning them until they're forty, but afterward they'd like it if he just let them die.

End of rant, hope this was comprehensive.

[prince-rowan-of-the-forest]

Arctic Wolf (1/2)

Virgil had never really thought that he would end up in the Hunger Games.

When he does, he never thought he would come out of it alive.

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| Ao3 | Next ->

| Art of Virgil |

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!! Rated Mature for graphic deptictions of violence !!

Warnings: Death, Government mandated murder, Weapons, Virgil is an orphan street rat and 14 (just stating incase that bothers people), Talk about potential starvation, dehydration and animal attacks, General anxiety.

Pairings: none

Word Count: 3511

Notes:

HELLO!!

So excited to be posting the first part of this fic!! I've been working on it for a little while. I absolutely love this au I've made with @sleepy-nova-tea - it's so awesome :3

----

Virgil had never really thought that he would end up in the Hunger Games. 

It’s not like he thought he was immune or above anyone or anything, but he was young - only fourteen - and his name was only in the reaping four times. With no family to provide for, he only needed the tesserae offered for himself, he was in a good position not to be picked when he knew there were others who had their names in forty-odd times. 

That’s why he thought it was just a little bit unfair when they called out his name. 

No-one volunteered, of course, he didn’t expect them to - why would they? It was a death sentence. All he got were a few sympathetic looks from the people in the crowd who knew him. 

At least there was no-one here who would really remember him. 

An orphan with no family or friends to speak of - a few people who could afford to give him food every so often knew who he was, but aside from that… Well. He was glad it was him if the alternative was someone who would leave people behind. 

—-

The female tribute from his district was someone he didn’t know, nor was she someone he was interested in knowing. He was going to be dead soon anyway, it didn’t matter if they made friends, in fact, it would only hurt more if they were. 

Their stay in the Capitol went too quickly and too slowly all at once. Living like kings before they would be sent to the slaughter. It was backhanded and cruel in Virgil’s mind, showing him everything he had ever wanted back home - a warm bed, plentiful food, clean clothes - for such a short time before shoving him into whatever cruel arena they had thought up this year. 

Training was difficult, it gave him a chance to see how the other tribute’s skills compared to his (every single one beating him out by a landslide). There was no way he would be winning this game through combat that was for sure. He saw the girl from two throw a spear with accuracy he couldn’t imagine, he saw the boy from four throwing knives. Everyone seemed to be prioritising combat. Virgil knew he would never win that way, which meant he would have to focus on something else. 

So, Virgil spent all his days training working on survival skills. Learning how to build fires, find shelter, catch food and make natural remedies he could make in his time of need. A lot of the other tributes looked at him like he was dead meat, the first up on the chopping block,  he probably was. 

Virgil was weak, malnourished, spider limbed and quiet, he hadn’t touched a single weapon the entire time they were here and he never once talked to another tribute. What he had done was memorise the plants to look out for, looked for hints in the training exercise as to what the arena might entail so he could better prepare and he had made a point to ask the capitol staff running the training for help and tips - it wasn’t something he had seen anyone else doing aside from those looking to spar, he just hoped that maybe it would be helpful. 

He didn’t talk to anyone during lunch, he didn’t talk to anyone during training, and he certainly didn’t talk to anyone any other time. If he was going to win this game, his only chance was alone. Not that he thought he would, but hey, he may as well try. Besides, that was how he had been all his life. 

During his examination, Virgil showcased his knowledge of poisonous plants and insects. Sure, it wasn’t throwing knives or spears or anything showy or impressive, but it was all he got. 

In the end, he would be going in with a score of five, which, looking on the bright side, made him far less of a target for the careers than some of the higher scoring tributes.

—-

“Virgil Helio, from district eight!” Announced Caesar after his little introduction spiel that Virgil hadn’t paid attention too, and suddenly Virgil was being pushed forward onto the stage by a peacekeeper. He almost tripped over the long cloak his stylist had dressed him in as he climbed the stairs and took his seat. The crowd was cheering - so many people were sitting here, watching, they had come to see the tributes and Virgil could already feel himself freezing up as they went quiet. 

“-Seem a little nervous?”

Virgil only caught the tail end of that statement, but he could guess what Caeser was asking, “Uh- yeah, kinda,” he admitted, “Just- give me a second.”

Taking a deep breath in to steady himself, Virgil closed his eyes and let it out slowly, “Okay, I’m ready.”

Virgil answered the questions almost in a daze. He was asked about his time in district eight, how it felt to be the youngest tribute in the arena, his strengths and weaknesses. He answered them all as though from behind a wall - he heard his own voice like it was distant, that was the only way he felt he could keep it together for the whole interview. 

“So, you’re skilled in finding shelter and catching food,” Caesar said as Virgil finished answering the last question, “So what kind of arena are you hoping for?”

“Well - I guess something with forested areas? Trees are great shelter, and there’s more places to hide,” Virgil said, he didn’t want to reveal all of his plans, “I’m not a fighter.”

—-

It was cold. 

As Virgil rose up on that podium wind whipped his face, icy air ripping into his exposed cheeks. The clothes he had been given to wear into the area were thick and thermal and now he could see why. The entire arena was covered in a blanket of snow, not a single patch of grass to be seen as Virgil looked around. 

The countdown thrummed in his ears, the loud voice counting down making his heart race quicker with every number. A glance around the circle of tributes had Virgil realising that this was about to be a bloodbath. The careers looked downright bloodthirsty, half the others looked determined, one or two looked scared like him. One of the careers glanced in his direction and Virgil could already tell he was done for. 

The cornucopia would be a bloodbath, even if there were valuable supplies, there was no need for him to go for them if he was dead. What he did see as the timer ticked down to zero was a backpack and supplies not too far from his podium. If he could grab them and run into the pines behind him he would be set - well, that did depend on what was in the bag, but at least he wouldn’t be dead. 

With the sound of the gong ringing in his ears, Virgil sprinted. 

He was one of the first of the tributes off of their podiums, and he had snatched up the bag he had seen before any of them had even reached a weapon. Running for the treeline he also paused to grab what looked like a thermal blanket before darting back past the podiums and towards the tree line - tall pines covered in snow and ice just waiting to fall. He was just glad that the weather was looking clear for now. Who knew how quickly that would change. 

Just as he reached the treeline, Virgil heard what sounded like an arrow whistle past him and ducked to the side, the metal arrow thudded into a tree trunk, and Virgil glanced back before running over and yanking it back out. It wasn’t as good as a knife or a sword, but a weapon was a weapon, at least he had one. 

Finding a cave was easy. Finding a good cave was the hard part.

It turned out that the arena was covered in holes, there were nooks and crannies and places to hide everywhere. Half of them had animals in them - he could tell by nearby damaged branches and tousled shrubbery as well as tracks in the snow. Virgil was not taking his chances with a wolf or a lynx, let alone some kind of mutt. 

He wandered for what must have been at least a few hours, only coming across one other tribute in that time. Hissing at her seemed to have scared her off though, so Virgil had been safe enough for now.

As he walked he mentally mapped out the arena. The cornucopia had been in a clearing, trees on all sides. To the north he came across a huge basin. He’d spotted a few caves in the dipping terrain, but they weren’t worth it. There was no tree cover there and besides, he’d freeze to death before the next dawn. There was a frozen river further west, behind which seemed to be more clifflike terrain. Virgil wouldn’t risk climbing it for now. In an emergency, he knew he could, but he didn’t want to risk falling and breaking his neck for potentially no reward this early on. No. Careful to pick the part of the river where the ice should be thickest, Virgil made his way across and began to search along the rocky cliffs for caves. It would make sense for caves to form along here and eventually he found the jackpot. A cave with a small entrance he had to crawl through, pretty hidden by the rocks and with a tiny freshwater stream that travelled from under the ice it seemed. It was perfect for a home base.

In the backpack he had grabbed there was some rope, a few matches, and a pouch that he could attach to his belt to hold a weapon he didn’t have. Well - he had his arrow, but that wouldn’t fit, it was meant for a knife or dagger. He was sure he could find some kind of use for it regardless. 

The biggest glaring issue Virgil faced was that he had no food. In fact, looking at it critically as he tried to fall asleep that night, wrapped up in the insulating blanket he was incredibly grateful he had grabbed, Virgil was food. Every time he risked leaving his cave he risked being attacked by some kind of predator, something that needed to eat just like him. It was highly doubtful that there would be anything to hunt out here either. Maybe there would be a few plants he could grab, worst come to worst he could eat the pine needles off of the trees, but really if he wanted to stay alive he would have to find something better. 

The only place he could get something better was the cornucopia - or the other tributes. The careers were probably guarding the cornucopia and all of its supplies. He was lucky to have a freshwater supply, but he wouldn’t last another day without something to eat. 

He fell asleep last night after listening to the cannons - seven fallen tributes on the first day. Well, at least Virgil wasn’t out last. 

The next morning he woke up to an empty stomach. With a soft groan he sat up, his blanket still wrapped snugly around him and for a few seconds was reminded of home during the winter. 

Trying so hard to think of the positives, Virgil decided that at least that meant he was familiar with this part. Being hungry, waking up from a cold night, sleeping on the ground. The thermal blanket might actually be an upgrade, but at least at home he didn’t have sixteen possibly armed teenagers after him. 

He heard a howling wolf followed by a cannon shot in the distance. Fifteen, he thought. At least his fears of the arena wildlife weren’t unfounded. 

It was still early, though, and the sun wasn’t quite up yet. Virgil was used to rising before dawn, but this seemed different. He felt like the sun should be up by now if his body clock was anything to go by. He supposed though if this arena was mimicking winter it would reflect that with longer nights and shorter days. 

Going now would make it easier to stay hidden from other tributes, but it also made him a sitting duck for any creature out there looking for a quick snack. 

He weighed up his options and eventually - arrow held tightly in hand and bag on his back - crept out of the cave. So long as he was quiet maybe he wouldn’t be noticed. 

There was little trouble as Virgil reached the clearing that housed the cornucopia. He felt lucky to have not come across any wild animals on his trek through the snow. Now he crouched behind a tree watching. The sky was starting to get lighter by now, and there was a fire crackling in the mouth of the cornucopia, around which five tributes sat. Two from district one, one from two, and two from four. Virgil took a few deep breaths to calm his nerves, he had to think rationally about this or he’d never get anything done.

Virgil could see where all the supplies were stored - behind them inside the cornucopia. He guessed it was to protect them from the worst of the cold. There’s no way he could grab it like this with them all there, they’d see him in an instant in the black clothing they’d been given for the arena, he’d stick out like a sore thumb if he left the trees. Waiting for them to leave would be his best bet, but who knows how long that would be, and he was vulnerable here - maybe he could draw them away somehow…

“Psst-” He heard behind him, causing him to whip around, clutching his arrow in his hand he scanned the area until his eyes caught on a girl with short black hair peeking out from behind a nearby tree. Vaguely he recognised her as the girl he had hissed at on the first day - he thought she might be from Three, but he hadn’t paid enough attention to the others to know her name. She made a gesture for him to come over - Virgil just frowned and gripped his arrow tighter - he couldn’t trust anyone here. The girl frowned, holding up her hands in a surrender, before gesturing with her chin behind her. She clearly wanted to talk, but they couldn’t do it here with the careers so close by. Eventually Virgil sighed and nodded, carefully making his way over to her. He was lucky, he supposed. She could have killed him easily as she led him a little further into the trees - a safe enough distance away to talk. 

“Sorry for scaring you,” she whispered once they were far enough away.

“Sorry for hissing at you,” Virgil returned with a shrug, “You’re um - you’re from Three, right?”

“Mhm - My name’s Bug Scintilla - You’re Virgil, from Eight,” she said, holding out a hand for him to shake - he did so hesitantly with a small nod, “Great - you’re looking to go after their stuff, right?”

Another nod, she smiled.

“Not the talking type?”

Virgil shrugged with a small smile, “Not really.”

“Well good, I talk a lot,” she said, “Now - guess you’re looking for food, right? That’s why I’m here too, there’s nothing good to eat in the rest of the arena unless you’re able to kill a wolf which, no offence, you look really scrawny and your only weapon is an arrow.”

He shrugged again - she was right. 

“So, d’you have a plan?”

“I was in the middle of making one,” He said, shaking his head, looking back in the direction of the clearing, she sighed. 

“Okay, I’ve got an idea,” She said, beginning to draw a map of the clearing in the snow, Virgil sat down with her and looked, “Did you see where they had everything?”

“The supplies are all piled up in the cornucopia,” Virgil added, pointing to the map, she nodded, adding a cross, “So we gotta draw them away…”

For a while, they went back and forth on the best ways to do it, lighting a fire, making a lot of noise - noise might draw some of the wild animals in the arena, and if the careers were killed by them whilst looking for the source then Virgil certainly wouldn’t be too upset. 

“Are you sure you could get away, though?” He asked, tilting his head.

“Mhm - I’m good at climbing and the trees here are pretty tightly packed, I can get away that way,” She said, “You can sneak in from behind the cornucopia - they’ll leave a lookout, but you’re small and I saw how stealthy you were back in training, I think you can do it.”

Virgil nodded slowly, “Okay, right.”

“And make sure you’re fast too, we don’t know how long they’ll be distracted for and I don’t want you to get caught.”

Virgil nodded, “You know the river on the west side?” he said, she nodded, “We can meet there afterwards - I guess if we don’t make it there by sundown we can assume…”

“The cannons will tell anyway,” she shook her head, “But good plan - let's head out - we want this done before we starve, and hey - if you see anything else useful you can grab - no harm in having more, right?”

Virgil nodded yet again. There were so many things that could go wrong with this plan, neither of them were guaranteed safety or results, but he supposed they would both die either way if they didn’t try. At least if they went for it they would have some kind of chance. 

After a moment of hesitance, Bug pulled him in for a hug. Virgil had never been a touchy person, and this certainly startled him, but he still put his arms around her in return. “In case we don’t make it back,” she says, quietly, before hurrying away into the trees. 

Taking a deep breath, Virgil made his way in the other direction, keeping his fingers crossed that he wouldn’t come across any animals or other tributes as he made his way around the treeline until he was facing the back of the cornucopia. Once he had made it, he crouched in the shrubbery to wait.

The plan had gone smoothly right up until Virgil was trying to leave the cornucopia. 

He had managed to find two bags and stuff them full of food and supplies, he’d grabbed a couple of weapons, and a flask of water for them both too. He’d stolen as much as he could fit in the two bags before hefting one onto his shoulders and making his way out only to see the careers making their way back across the clearing.

Virgil panicked, snatching a knife from a nearby pile of weapons so that he had something in his hand and attempting to slip out of the cornucopia. Yelling behind him let him know that he had been unsuccessful. He ran, but they were gaining on him. The other careers had been at the other side of the clearing, but the district four guy they had left behind - a big, muscled guy who must be on the older end of the scale - was right behind him. 

Virgil turned, and in some vain hope, threw the knife. 

It landed with a dull thud in the poor guy’s abdomen, for a moment the world slowed and Virgil just stood there as the guy stopped, blood poured from around the knife, soaking into his clothes as he reached to pull it out. Virgil almost told him not to, but then he wanted this guy to die, didn’t he? Seeing the crimson splatter into the snow beneath them seemed to trip a switch in Virgil’s mind and he scrambled to keep running. He kept running even when he reached the trees, waving a path that he hoped wouldn’t be easily followed. 

Once he was sure he had lost them, he leaned over, bracing himself on a tree, and tried not to throw up when he heard the cannon shot in the distance. He had just killed someone.

He stayed there for a long while, crouched next to a tree and heaving - doing his best to keep his insides inside of him as he attempted to calm down the raging panic inside him. He counted in his head as he took deep breaths, trying to even out his intake of air and calm his mind. He had just killed another human being, if he hadn’t killed that boy then he’d be dead himself. It’s kill or be killed in this arena. Odds had nothing to do with it. 

Virgil stood, clutching the two bags he had grabbed tightly and began making his way back to the river. It didn’t make up for taking a human life, even in this situation, Virgil couldn’t justify it, but at least he had something to show for it.

----

Tags: @full-of-roman-angst-trash @your-local-random-dino @cutebisexualmess @glacierruler @roseianxiety @bella-bugatti-frogetti-baguetti @scalesfeathersnfur @oatmeal-stans-the-trash-rat @littlerat2 @goldnskyart (if anyone wants to be added, let me know!)

[aylacavebear]

Stockroom Antics - Chapter 1

Maria had changed jobs numerous times over the last five years, more to keep herself safe than anything else. Her mother had told her she was a fairy but she thought it was just her mom being weird. Honestly, though, she had no other way of explaining what had happened to her that stormy day before she'd gone into a coma for two weeks.

Please don't take my work. I'll post warnings for each chapter. Will probably be 18+ I haven't decided yet!

Word Count: 1747

Pairing eventually Dean Winchester x OC

Warnings: Angst (mild)

A/N: This one's written a little differently than my last one. Let me know what you think. It's the first time I've tried this type of writing. Chapters will alternate viewpoints as well. I also looked into an actual area so this one could feel more realistic.

----------------------------------------- Stockroom Antics Chapter 1

You’d think being something supernatural you’d prefer to stay away from people, and live more of a solitary sort of life, but no. You like people, love laughter, and having a job with amazing coworkers brings you a sense of peace and happiness in your life.

One of your best friends at work is Sarah. She’s adorable, fun, and goofy, and you both make each other laugh all day at work while you unbox the truck shipment and get things on the hummers and into the bluebins, to get put out later.

She knows what you are, sort of. Although, not even you yet know the actual name of what you are. You haven’t found anyone you can really trust outside your immediate family to tell the whole truth to. Hell, you don’t need to scare anyone. Most people have no clue what’s really out there and you like keeping it that way. You’ve researched to find a name for what you are but so far, there isn’t a single thing that has your abilities/powers description. 

As you’re out on the floor, getting out one of the hummers with the kitchen items on it, your mind wanders back. When did it start, you think to yourself, absentmindedly. Four years, five now. You’re not sure anymore. Technically you’re in your early forties but ever since it happened, you feel like you’re in your mid to late twenties again. It also seemed as though aging had practically stopped. Most things a forty-year-old body would go through, you haven’t been experiencing. Just the opposite, you truly feel as though you’ve been getting physically younger.

“Excuse me, do you work here?” A woman asks, pulling you from your thoughts, as she can’t see the nametag hanging around your neck with how you’re standing.

You turn to her with a friendly smile, “Yup, how can I help you?”

“I’m just looking for a pan I can cover the top of my stove with,” the woman attempted to explain.

Neither you nor the woman knew the exact name of that particular thing, but glancing down, you notice a rather large cookie sheet on the shelf on the endcap of the aisle you’re stocking, “This might work,” you tell her, picking it up.

The woman is impressed, looking it over, “How much is it?” she asks.

You flip it over and find the tag, “Nine dollars,” you let her know, “Not bad. This is really nice.”

“What about that price? Fifteen?” the woman asks.

“Oh, that is the price you’d find it for at another store. Our price is always on the bottom of the tag,” you reassure her.

The woman is very happy, letting you know that if it doesn’t work to cover her stove, she’ll be making cookies. Of course, this is when your lighthearted side comes out, “I’m here Monday through Friday, always in the afternoons,” you tell her, playfully.

She finds you adorable, smiling at your playfulness and the two of you spend almost three full minutes talking about cookies before she thanks you for your help. You know it will bring your times down that you have to run the hummer in, but to you, seeing a customer smiling and enjoying their visit to the store is what brings you the most joy at work.

You smile happily to yourself as the woman goes on about her shopping trip and you get back to running your hummer of kitchen items. It’s while you’re putting out some of the food that the mess of the section bothers you again. This is one thing you’re not responsible for, straightening the shelves up to make them look nice. You frown a bit, seeing that there is nowhere to put out the box of bagged oats. Checking around, and not seeing anyone nearby, you just think that there is room on the shelf, that it looks a little neater, and it happens in less than the blink of an eye. 

What you didn’t notice was that you were being watched. A man, in his mid-thirties was standing near the women’s clothing racks, just watching you. He was fairly average, with short brown hair, and brown eyes, only about an inch taller than you, wearing jeans, a blue t-shirt, a hoodie, and sneakers. 

You finished the kitchen hummer and then grabbed a toy one, making sure to write down your times on the sheet in the stockroom. The toy hummers were a little different. They had toys, pets, and craft supplies. Being a kid at heart, as well as loving anything stationary, you loved running these hummers. As you were putting out some of the dog toys, you heard the sound of one of the bluebins heading in your direction. It was like the hummers but those bluebins were for women's, men's, and children's items specifically.

Sarah was soon standing at the end of the pet aisle, phone up and recording, a playful smile on her lips, “Aaaannd, you’re fired,” she tried to say seriously.

You pretend to look upset and sad, then toss your arms up with playfulness, “Party at my house!”

The two of you laugh as she saves the video, only to post it online later, your Stockroom Antics tag included. The man who had been watching you earlier continues to do so. Every aisle seems to be a bit of a mess today, so again, you think about it looking a little nicer. Only a little though, you don’t need to draw unwanted attention to yourself from your boss if they watch the cameras.

Ten minutes before your shift ends, Sarah comes back up to you, “Code 99 me?” she asks, and you smirk.

“Oh, so if I don’t, that means you’re stuck here,” you chuckle.

“Not cool,” she replies, playfully, “Should I go find someone else?” she raises an eyebrow.

“Na, I’ll let you out,” you laugh a little. 

The two of you walk to the front of the store, in front of the doors so that you’re both on camera. Sarah opens her bag, and you peek in, “Looks good. See you tomorrow?” you tell her.

“Yup. See ya,” she replies before leaving.

You smile a bit and head to the stockroom. There’s always some cleanup that needs to be done and you enjoy doing those little things that there never seems to be time for others to do. The man continues to watch you, and you still haven’t noticed him, not really anyway. You’d seen him, yes, but to you, he’s just another customer.

The backroom isn’t bad, not today. The girl is working on tagging the shoes with the alarms while a couple of other girls are in the clothing pods tagging clothes and getting them on racks to go out either later on or the following morning. You get some sweeping done, straighten up the bluebins and hummers, then bid them all farewell for the evening. Just as you reach the register to clock out, your ‘end of shift’ alarm goes off.

“Thank you phone,” you say out loud, pulling it out of your back pocket, and then turn it off. Smiling and shaking your head a little.

“See you guys tomorrow,” you tell the two cashiers as you punch out. 

They smile and say goodbye as you head for the door. Since you don’t carry a purse, there’s no need to have a code 99 before you leave. The air is a little crisp, it being the beginning of January in Southern Arizona and you put the hood of your hoodie over your head. It’s been a cold few weeks, although this week has been the worst with the rain. For three days now the low in the mornings has been in the upper twenties and the days barely over fifty. That’s cold for where you live but it happens every so many years.

As you’re walking toward your truck, which you love with all your heart, the man from earlier is following you still. The chill doesn’t seem to be bothering him at all. For now, you believe he’s still just a customer, not paying him much attention. The wind blows just right, from behind you, and all you can smell is sulfur, and a chill runs down your back. You take a deep breath though, calming your nerves. You should have known that picking a job across the street from where you had previously worked wasn’t the best of ideas.

You stayed calm as you walked to your truck. She was quite the beast of a truck. A 91’ F350 XLT Lariat, crew cab, long bed, with a two-inch lift, 1500 lb leaf springs, and 4-wheel drive. You hadn’t saved up enough to have her fixed up like you wanted but you loved her dearly. As you rounded the hood, the man pushed you against your truck, right in front of the tire.

“Found you,” he said in a low, pleased tone, smiling devilishly, “The boss is gonna be pleased.”

Without thinking you put your hand on his chest and the black smoke of the demon's soul began expelling out of his mouth, toward the ground. This wasn’t the first time you’d had to deal with demons and you knew it wouldn’t be the last. The demon looked at you through the man’s eyes, almost in terror but more in shock at what you were doing. He apparently didn’t get the memo of what had happened to the last demon that had gotten too close to you. A smirk crossed your lips as the demon's soul left the man’s body, went into the ground, back to hell where it belonged. 

With the demon now gone, the man was unconscious. You sighed before carefully dragging him over to the closest tree in the parking lot, which you had parked near, and propped him against it. At least he was still alive. Most demons rode whoever they possessed hard, usually killing them in the process. He’ll wake later, you told yourself before heading home.

That night you thought long and hard about whether or not to go back to work the following day. You knew the demon would tell his boss, whom you’d never met, just heard about. That’s when you sat up a little straighter on your couch, a determination in your eyes.

“I’m not letting demons run me out of a job I love,” you said confidently.

----------------------------------------- Chapter 2

A/N: If you'd like to be tagged in this one, and future chapters, leave me a comment and let me know. :)

Link to the series Master List

[alexanderlightweight]

Randomly remembered that kelpie au Magnus has a favorite body dumping spot (that he's been using for FORTY YEARS) and started laughing. I know he probably portals the bodies there because they won't be noticed but it's so much funnier to just. Does he physically dump them in because he thinks it's a fun post-murder activity? Did Ragnor tell him that people like to feed ducks and he decided to give it a shot but for the local carnivore population??

Also hi i hope the heat isn't too bad

okay so!!! meta time!!

Alec's lake is in a magical dimension pocket and it's very rare to find openings to it (he leaves open a few holes to lure prey in).

Magnus finds a magically rich lake while he's about to rituals and when he's done, he throws the magically rich, incredibly personal (cause we know magnus signs his work) bodies into the lake.

magnus is aware its a magically potent lake and he figures the little sprites and magically rich creatures can have a snack and get something out of it WHILE disposing of the evidence. however when he goes back, out of curiosity, he finds it exactly the same and he got a really intense boost from the ritual. he also figures he's contributing to enriching the environment since magnus is respectful and he gives some of the ritual to the dimension.

Alec: powerful, feeds me snacks, gorgeous, feeds me delicious food, verry clearly invested in me, a little bit shy and taking forever to court me me but he's worth it. i can wait

Magnus: a little body for the lake, a little magic for the space, a little ritual for me.... another body for the lake

Alec: ... i adore him but this is taking forever. at least he's starting sending presents inbetween visits

Magnus: sealing off most of the other 'holes' so that his little spot isn't found

Alec: ah, he doesn't want another potential mate to meet my standards (doubtful but sweet) and is keeping me all to himself... i'll allow it (Alec also opening up holes and closing them when he wants a snack and wants to hunt).

Alec is mostly raised by magic and instinct btw, so like his fae instincts are pretty intense

it's soooooo hot and it's still mild rn. it's 104F/40C degrees right now and it will get hotter still. i've been in the dessert about 3 years now but because of some medical stuff, it might be a while before i can adjust to the temperatures. Nightshade and i sometimes just sit in his little pool and suffer together tbh

thanks for checking! i hope you enjoy the meta

<3 lumine

[nurgletwh]

*pokes head up*

*sees the world still exists*

Huh. Look at that.

On a more serious note, having essentially dropped off the face of the earth from the perspective of almost everyone who's following me here or my works on AO3, I am alive. This was not in any great danger of changing any more than the normal (one can always get hit by a bus, for example), but it turns out I haven't been well.

My first clues probably should have been long before I found myself sleeping eighteen hours a day for 'no damn good reason,' but since there were also some extremely difficult and terrifying weeks at work and the stress that goes with it, it crept up on me.

Unlike previous times I've disappeared, it wasn't related to my mental health this time. Not that it's any better, really, because it turns out that my diabetes was creeping out of control. I wasn't monitoring the way I should have been, and I missed a doctor's appointment without rescheduling (which is terrible when you have ADHD, because fucking remembering to call someone to reschedule is damn near impossible).

Anyhow.

It turns out that chronic high blood sugar makes a person feel all sorts of crappy in vague and indistinct ways that, in and of themselves, don't really trigger a sense of 'something is wrong, I should see a doctor.' It just leaves me feeling 'bleah' and 'ugh' and unable to do anything but sleep when I stop moving.

I am so far behind on anything and everything fun. I owe everyone who has a pending comment on my works a deep and heartfelt apology. I didn't mean to disappear. I know several of you have been worried, and it turns out at least semi-rightfully so. Not that there was much any of you could do about it, which really just makes it feel worse. I apologize for any stress and worry this may have caused. I can't promise to never do it again, unfortunately, because I am:

a) human b) a human with ADHD, and c) a human who is horrible at keeping up with communication the way she should.

I want to do better; I will try to do better. I have actually managed to continue writing, albeit at an exceptionally reduced rate. That's picked up markedly in the last week or so now that my meds have been adjusted. Hopefully, it continues to pick up. However, I don't think things are quite where they need to be based on my personal blood sugar testing, but it's a strong improvement. I still don't have much energy, but when I get home after work and sit down, I only sleep for forty-five minutes to an hour, not four followed by crawling into bed for the night and still not feeling rested in the morning.

I hope to start working my way through my inbox on AO3. If you're following me here and see this before I get to your comment, hi! ♥ Know that I have read them all and they give me sparks of joy to think about, but I have been very emphatically squashing any guilt at my non-response for now. Feeling guilty is a potent anti-motivator for someone with ADHD. It makes a growing mountain that I can run away from like an Olympic sprinter, which means that the only way I will successfully get back on track is to not feel guilty or compelled, which is the opposite of how it works for many folk.

I also seem to have gotten into some fucked-up screwy mindset where my brain is telling me I have to have something ready to post (or nearly so) before I can answer comments now. Which is just... wrong. So very, very wrong. I'm working on that, too. Blood sugar fixing first, however.

Take care, everyone. I've definitely been thinking about all of you and have seriously missed having the conversations and speculations that go with successfully generating writing but also require successfully responding to comments. It's been a seriously sucky couple of months; here's hoping things improve.

♥

[kinfriday]

The Irregular Ascetic

In August, I briefly made a new friend on Tumblr.

His account has long since vanished for reasons I do not know. Maybe this place just didn't click for him. I've been here for years and always found it welcoming, but I know that, like everything, this site is not for everyone.

He'd send me a message, ask a question or two, and when I checked every week or so, I'd do my best to reply.

Then, one day, he was gone, but not before leaving me one last question:

"An ascetic heathen life? What does that look like to you? I want to see that visual."

And that's kind of the question, isn't it?

The thing about callings is that they aren't always clear-cut. I may feel drawn towards an ascetic heathen life, but it's not like my Gods sent me an Ikea flat-pack kit.

As seems to be the pattern with the Germanic deities, they tapped me on the shoulder and then said...

"Here ya go, figure it out."

And here we are. Forty-Two, with over ten years as a member of the Ár nDraíocht Féin (ADF), I haven't finished my dedicant path, nor started the clergy track.

I can't remember the last time I did a full ritual.

All in all, I seem like a pretty crappy monk, don't I?

Sister Snow Hare, indeed...

It seems that my vanishing friend pinned me to the wall. I've been chewing on this again, trying to work it out.

If you're reading this, buddy, know that you kicked off a lot of introspection about my path, and you inspired this long rambling Tumblr post.

The best place to start is the beginning. (A little free wisdom)

So, what exactly is monasticism?

Good ol’ Mr. Wikipedia defines it as "a religious way of life in which one renounces worldly pursuits to devote oneself fully to spiritual work."

No matter the faith, this is a feature of monastic life: asceticism, self-denial, and focus.

Have I mentioned I can't remember the last time I did a ritual yet?

Tsk. Tsk. Tsk.

Nothing makes me feel guilty, like comparing myself to the standards and practices of others. Somewhere out there, a Buddhist is living on four grains of rice, meditating eighteen hours a day, stopping only to sleep. The five minutes a day he spends on Tumblr, he's laughing at me.

I just know it. >.>

You could say I've been feeling a little convicted about this.

Yet the calling is still there. My relationship with my Gods isn't just good; it's warm. While not formal or official, I have a fulfilling spiritual life that's not structured like anything in the faith org I faithfully send my twenty dollars a year to and then largely hide from.

So what's going on?

I've begun to realize slowly over the last year that my faith path will probably never be recognizable as anything routine, rote, or by the book, but what it will be is mine.

Where does my asceticism show?

Let me take you through a typical day.

Waking at 2300 (11 pm), I plank for three minutes, do about ten minutes of calisthenics, wash my face, and then meditate for twenty minutes to a half hour, offering that time to the Gods. Then, with that done, I recite my creed and head off to the gym.

I have a creed. I'm that fancy!

While I'm in the truck, I informally pray. Often, I'm talking to my Lady Eostre, but the other Gods definitely get included. Woden and I have always gotten along, and Thunor, I call big brother because he's always watching out for us and protecting us.

Now it's time for my hour minimum at the gym. Half an hour each of cardio and weight training. This is so I can be in good condition and proper shape.

Good health is important to me, but more on that in a moment.

When I get home, I clean for about an hour, something I call "service meditation." Scrubbing floors, cleaning counters, and sanitizing bathrooms is a gift I can give daily to my loved ones with whom I make a home. While I work, I reflect on them and consider all they give me.

After a much-needed shower, I'm in the office and might finally have breakfast. I eat, ascetically, often the same thing every day; I keep my calories low and usually take up a 16-hour fast between my last meal and first meal.

Everything gets weighed down to the gram and tracked on my calorie sheet.

Next comes editing, writing, often some informal online counseling, or time spent on networks like Counter Social, Telegram, and Discord trying to help people, even if it's only getting them to smile.

Hope is big for me because my Lady Eostre is the goddess of Spring and the Dawn. She is hope personified, a goddess of fresh chances and potential. Pointing back to her and her values is my purpose. It's what I was made for.

My day continues like that until I'm in bed at 1600 (4 PM), after an hour cool-down where I go through my creed and have one last conversation with the Gods. That's when I set out my fruit offerings if I happened to have any that day.

It's a hard and fast rule. The gods always get the best part of the banana and the strawberry.

This is the way.

My bed is a mat that rolls out on the floor. I started that in 2020, and I've never been happier or slept better, and when I travel, it comes with me.

And I travel a lot.

My family here calls it "missions." Every now and again, someone in my network will need help. They might be having surgery, a mental health crisis, or are moving cross town or cross country. Whatever the reason, the call goes out, and if I can make it work with money, I'll hop a plane, train, or bus and get out there.

Beyond the joy I get from being in shape and capable, this is why I work out. It's much easier to load and move boxes or help lift people when you're in decent physical condition. 

I actually have training as a CNA, so I know how to do all the transfer stuff, and I have decent experience in post-surgical care.  

I don't want to go into this part too much because it feels like bragging, but I've been all over the States and soon to be Canada just helping people. I ramble in, do what I can, then return home and take back up my discarded routine.

And this is my life, apart from writing my books. As I looked at it and began breaking it down, I realized that I am already living a disciplined ascetic life.  

My gods and my faith are at the forefront of what I do, but what defines my faith isn't the regular application of ritual, but action. Indeed, one of the sayings I live by is actions show what words claim.

So I'm not on a mountaintop, meditating with the sun's rising and setting, or dwelling within a monastery, cloistered from the world, living to sing hymns. There is beauty in that kind of asceticism, but it's not my asceticism.

Yet, we do have things in common.

My life is one of service, with a focus on the divine and the advancement of their aims for the world. It is my hope (there's that word again) that I can show the wisdom and cunning of Woden, the strength of Thunor, the honor of Tyr, and most of all, embody the hope of the Dawn in all I do.

Of course, I'm not perfect, and Saturdays are often waffle day, but life is about growth, not static metrics.

It's dawning on me that I may never be fully recognized in my path. I don't seem to jive well with organizations and dogmatic structures. I may never have Reverend by my name or "Sister" formally. When it's time to go, I may not even leave much behind save my books and these Tumblr posts.

When I do cross that far horizon, and I am again before my Lady, I hope she will look back on all I did during this strange human odyssey and see that while I may have been taken from her for a time, I never stopped being her devoted one, her servant, and that is all the formal recognition I will ever need.

For me, an ascetic heathen life is one of actions, denial, and service, which I seek to live every day.

[dreaming-marchling]

fic writer meme

Thank you @smilebackwards for tagging me!

1. How many works do you have on Ao3? 33

2. What's your total Ao3 word count? 1,855,326 per my stats page - it's kind of wild!

3. What fandoms do you write for? My current two mains are Shadowhunters and Fast and Furious. I have in the past posted stories for Daredevil, Merlin, Harry Potter, Torchwood, The Defenders, Sherlock, Four Brothers and Suits. I have other fandoms I've started fics in but not finished/posted

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos? Day Forty Seven [7055] Set Free [4285] Marked in Trust [4132] Listen [3934] Four Centuries and Also Nineteen Years [3876]

5. Do you respond to comments? I respond to all comments while the story is in progress and then for probably a couple of months after it ends before I stop. Unless someone asks a specific question, then I always respond. I wish I could do all of them ever but life makes it hard.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? I almost answered none of them before I remembered Addicted, which is about Brian and Dom hooking up during the first movie which I mostly wrote to prove to myself I could do smut. I'm pretty sure it ends with Brian realizing Mia (who he's supposed to be maybe getting together with as per the movie) heard them do that and Dom knew she would and from there Brian understanding that they're imploding even without him and the FBI.

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? Literally all the others, lol. I'm a happy ending girlie.

8. Do you get hate on fics? Yes, in the Shadowhunters fandom if I write Jace as a good parabatai. Occasionally for if I write Isabelle as a good sister or Clary as not a total piece of shit. Also sometimes if I write Alec in a way that suggests maybe Magnus isn't the greatest in the world who has suffered more than Alec ever will.

9. Do you write smut? Yes but I generally prefer the fade to black approach

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you have written? I've never written a crossover.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen? Not that I'm aware of I don't think. I don't even know if I would want to know, like that would consume me in the worst way

12. Have you ever had a fic translated? Yes, but not as Marchling. All of the comments were telling me that the translator was changing things and it was a bad translation and the person doing it was getting really weird. It was just like a nightmare kind of so now I request no one translate my fics. I'm sure someone would do it better and I'm just being all oversensitive because I got burned once but I'd rather just not go down that road again.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before? Yes, but also not as Marchling.

14. What's your all time favorite ship? I honestly don't think I have one, it really depends on my mood.

15. What is a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will? Oh absolutely. I have a couple of Shadowhunters stories that I doubt will ever be finished because they just don't want to be written I think. I love the ideas but the ideas don't love me

16. What are your writing strengths? I think I write dialogue well. I try to make sure that I include some sort of realistic recovery even if the story is shorter. I like to experiment with formatting to help tell the story and I think it's generally effective

17. What are your writing weaknesses? I can't write drabbles. I am not good at action scenes. I don't do enough description.

18. Thoughts of writing dialogue in another language in fics? I've been corrected in the comments more than once, lol. I like to do the dialogue in another language but write the English in italics so even if I'm wrong everyone still knows what it was meant to be.

19. First fandom you wrote for? I was like 11 or 12 and I posted my first two stories at the same time. One for a fandom I won't name because they're still out there and it's small enough you could find them and I'd rather die. The other for Angel the TV series. I got more comments on the other fandom one and so I was embarrassed that the Angel one got way less and I deleted it lmao. Did I mention I was in middle school?

20. Favorite fic you have written? I am so proud of so many of my stories but I think the Marked in Trust series is always going to be just the tiniest bit extra special in my heart.

tagging literally anyone who wants to play

[dropthedemiurge]

I'm writing Boston, Ray and Sand chatting during their visit in New York post-canon and it's so fun adsfjahljdfl look at them

Sand sighs. "Why did you even want to come here for him? It's hours off our schedule and planned route. Boston is not even a good person." "You don't know him," Ray protests, and eyebrows shoot up Boston's face as he comes up and inserts himself into their conversation. "He's right, I'm not a good person," Boston chuckles bitterly as he stares into Sand's unfazed eyes. "But Ray isn't either, yet I don't see you having problems with him."

//

Boston is suddenly hit with the realization that sober Ray is so damn cute. He always got his charms – and Boston prays that Sand never learns of the fact that he and Ray used to hook up when they were drunk in the beginning of their friendship – but there is a different glow about him now. He opens his mouth at the moment when Sand shoves a potato fry in Ray's mouth, lovey-dovey look in his eyes. "When did you get so handsome, Ray?" "Don't even think about it," Sand threatens him with another fry, and Boston winces. "It must be the therapy. My therapist keeps calling me pretty too," Ray grins, and Sand gasps next to him.

//

"Actually, I should already go, I have an art practice in forty minutes. Damn, I'm supposed to get nude and I just ate fried chicken stripes," he sighs as he stands up, gathering his jacket. He doesn't register the moment of silence that passes between him and the couple. "Do you, like, pose naked for people?" Ray questions him with wide eyes. "It's not like you are the one drawing?" Boston nods. "I work part-time as a model for artists in the academy. It's not as sexy as you think, unfortunately, but it's fun and I've got a good body, so why not." "You do," Ray hums and grins. "Shi-it~ That's so cool." Boston feels his lips stretching into a smile. "I got a drawing as a gift one time, but at least the recording is forbidden there. I can't get into troubles, people praise me, and I get paid for it. What's not to like?" Ray gives him a thumbs up, and Boston feels proud of himself. That it, until he looks at Sand staring up at him with the mixed emotions on his face. Boston tilts his head. "Why are you looking at me like that? Don't believe me? I can get you an invite to the session, if you want to look at my body and try painting it as well." Ray is looking at Sand with the frown, probably searching for the desire on Sand's face, but Boston gets an answer to his question pretty soon. He doesn't expect it at all, though. "No, I'm just… I'm really sorry," Sand says, and Boston freezes. Did he hear it right?

they are fun but also i still have an entire first chapter of Boston being moody in nyc meeting his photographer friends before sandray arrive xD

[koreanbibliophilegirl]

(Part 2 of incorrect quotes for my dsmp superpower AU ig)

Also forgot to mention last time, I got half the quotes on this post & ALL of the ones on the post you're currently reading from ScatterPatter's Incorrect Quotes Generator!

Welp yeah that's all, uhhhhhhh enjoy??

-

Punz: Where are you going?

Purpled: To get ice cream or commit a felony, I’ll decide on the way there.

-

Tommy: What the f*ck is wrong with you?!

Wilbur: Wow, you could start with a 'good morning'.

Tommy: Good morning. What the f*ck is wrong with you?!

-

Tommy: Must be hard not being able to laugh.

Techno: I do have a sense of humor you know.

Tommy: I've never heard you laugh before.

Techno: I've never heard you say anything funny.

-

Eret: Go to Hell.

Ant, tearing up: I wish I could.

-

(A younger Phil and teenage Techno talking)

Phil: Jail is no fun. I'll tell you that much.

Techno: Oh, you've been?

Phil: Once. In Monopoly.

-

Eret: God, give me patience.

Ant: I think you mean 'give me strength'.

Eret: If God gave me strength, you'd be dead.

-

Skeppy: You're the love of my life and my best friend, I would do anything for you.

Bad: I want you to eat three meals a day and have a decent sleep schedule.

Skeppy: Absolutely not.

-

Eret: Don’t worry, I have a few knives up my sleeve.

Tina: ?? I think you mean cards?

Foolish: No, she does not.

Eret, pulling out knives: I do not.

-

Purpled: Oh just so you know, it's very muggy outside.

Quackity:

Quackity: Purpled, I swear, if I step outside and all of our mugs are on the front gate entrance path...

Purpled: (Sips coffee from bowl)

-

Wilbur: Am I going too far?

Techno: No, no, no. You went too far about seven years ago. Now you're going to prison.

-

Tommy: You f*ckers don’t know about my knife stick. It’s a knife taped to a stick and it’s the ultimate weapon.

Techno, not looking up from his book: Spear.

Tommy: BLOCKED.

-

Wilbur: You're right.

Techno: That's... That's an unusual phrase for you. Did you just learn it?

-

Purpled: In light of what you did for me, you can hug me for four to five seconds.

Tommy: FORTY FIVE SECONDS?!?

Purpled: No! Four to five seconds!

Tommy: Too late!!!

-

Techno: If there's going to be a big dramatic scene, wait until I get back.

Phil: Of course. I can't flip this table by myself.

-

Dream: Someone will die.

Sapnap: Of fun!

-

Niki: How many kids do you have?

Phil: Biologically, emotionally, or legally?

-

Hannah: I'm 10 times funnier and sexier than you.

Sam: 10 times 0 is still 0 though.

Hannah: Joke's on you, I can't do math.

-

Ranboo: Do you take constructive criticism?

Purpled: I only take cash or credit.

-

Wilbur: So that's my plan.

Kristin: Are you alright with constructive criticism? I don't want to sound mean.

Wilbur: No, go ahead, I want to hear it.

Kristin: It f*cking sucks.

Wilbur: That's not constructive criticism.

-

Niki: I prevented a murder today.

Puffy: Really? How'd you do that?

Niki: self control.

-

Hannah: Look. I may not be a saint, but it's not like I've killed anybody. I'm not an arsonist. I've never found a wallet outside of an IHOP and thought about returning it but saw the owner lived out of state so just took the cash and dropped the wallet back on the ground.

Sam: Okay, that's really specific, and that makes me think that you definitely did do that.

-

Techno: We need a distraction.

Phil: Is anyone here good at jumping up and down and making weird noises?

Clingyduo, whispering: Our time has come.

-

Ranboo: What time is it?

Tommy: I don't know, pass me that saxophone and we’ll find out.

Tommy: (Plays sax loudly and extremely out of tune)

Jack: WHO THE F*CK IS PLAYING THE SAXOPHONE AT TWO IN THE MORNING?!

Ranboo:

Tommy: It’s 2 A.M.

-

Tubbo: What do you think Eryn and Aimsey will do for a distraction?

Ranboo: They'll probably, like, make a noise or throw a rock. That’s what I would do.

(Building explodes and several car alarms go off)

Ranboo: ... Or they could do that.

-

Hannah, trying to ask Tina out: Would you like to stay for dinner?

Connor, hanging upside down from the ceiling: WOULD YOU LIKE TO STAY FOREVER?

-

[Part 1] [Part 3]

[rock-and-compass]

Precursor - I wrote about the fifth season of Angel many years ago - probably around the time that the season 8 comics were first being published. I originally published these meta essays over on LiveJournal and I've decided to re-post them (as written), mostly for archival reasons. I love season 5 of Angel. It's such a shame it got axed before it could get the envisioned 6th and 7th series

Episode 5.3 – Unleashed

Unleashed is the third episode of the season but the first to employ the devious tactic of being about something on the surface but really being about something else on a sub-textual level. By watching the façade you get a neat, self-contained story that has a beginning, middle and end, and gets resolved in forty-plus minutes of television production. But pull back the curtains and you’ll begin to see what’s really going on and in essence, that’s what makes season five so brilliant.

Unleashed, at its heart, is all about family. The episode opens with Team Angel having an evening picnic, sharing Chinese food and catching up with each other. Yet things are not all cheery for the group. They are meeting outside because they don’t know if they can trust the people they work with or the organisation they work for. They are suspicious of each other; Wesley’s lateness, Gunn’s brain boost, Fred’s relationship with a dude called Knox. It has been a month since they took over and Angel is still preoccupied with why they were offered the Wolfram and Hart deal in the first place. What do the Senior Partners want with them? Ironically, Fred gives him the answer in the very next sentence:

Fred: Turns out running a company doesn't leave a lot of time for, you know, covert ops

 Angel is too close, looking for a big plan, a scheme aimed at him personally to realise that Wolfram and Hart are controlling him very effectively thank you very much. 

Wesley asks Gunn if he knows anything more about the Senior Partners plans courtesy of the brain upgrade. Gunn gets defensive, why are they singling him out for suspicion?  They all made a deal, and they all got something out of it. Angel more than any of them, but of course, they don’t know that. Angel again expresses his need to discover what the Senior Partners have in store for them and again Fred gives the reason, shows him the exact plan:

Fred: Angel, it's not like we don't want to be ready. We just have, you know, plates...big, heaping, full plates

He can’t see the wood for the trees. He’s too intent on the big picture when it’s the family photograph he should be concentrating on.  Wesley concurs with Fred:

Wesley: Between running our departments, handling clients, dealing with Spike— 

And just the mention of Spike irritates Angel. He dismisses Spike as nothing more than a distraction. Funny, that he can see Spike as a distraction but fails to make the connection that the Senior Partners’ big plan is simply to distract him from the fight against evil and his mission and to nullify his influence. Fred begins to explain that Spike is more than a distraction, that he’s unique but Angel is just not interested. It’s the last thing he wants to hear and in fact, he takes the opportunity to run away, do what he does best, rescue a helpless girl, remind everyone who the hero is here! 

Except, Angel doesn’t rescue the girl, she gets away. But he does kill the werewolf that bit her. So Team Angel put all their considerable energies into finding her. Her case becomes personal, she gets the personal touch. Angel explains his concern:

Angel: Probably tried to control it for a while and just gave up; thought she had to fight it alone, ended up with nothing worth fighting for.

Gee, over identify much?

Helping the helpless, that’s what he does. . . That’s what he did? What is he doing here again?

Spike appears in Fred’s office. He wants someone, well specifically Fred, to help him, but no one is paying attention. His trips into ‘Hell’ are getting longer. He’s getting worried. Fred wants him to go to Wes or Angel for help but Spike’s insistent - nobody else must know. Why the reluctance to share Spike? One word: Fear. Can’t have the old Sire knowing that he’s scared, can he? Worse, what if he told Angel and he still doesn’t care, still couldn’t give a damn about him, and tells him that Hell is all he deserves anyway. And would he be wrong? 

Spike is, let’s be honest here, annoying in this scene, actually, in this entire episode. But that’s because he’s supposed to be. He’s the unwanted child demanding attention.  He feels neglected and wants the world to see it! He’s petulant and obnoxious; he makes up stories to big-note himself (which Fred, in a very sisterly fashion, sees right through). He is exactly like a child. Children can be annoying; they nag, they don’t get that the more they nag the more annoying they get, and the angrier the adults around them become. They persist; they have no understanding of others beyond the self. They kick and yell and scream until they get attention and they don’t care if it is good attention or bad attention as long as they get some attention. Acknowledgement is all that matters. All his bad behaviour, so far removed from the character he was in season 7 of Buffy, highlights Spike’s position as Angels ‘son’ and his symbolic significance to Angel. But nobody, especially not Angel, is paying attention; Team Angel is preoccupied with dog-girl.

The girl in question, Nina, is in fact experiencing a substantial increase in sense perception. She has a sister who is concerned, and a niece, Amanda who loves her. They are a family yet she imagines slashing their throats. They are in danger from her. 

Back at Wolfram and Hart it is all go, go, go. They are pulling out all stops to find this girl. Spike is kind of right when he observes that they are making a big fuss over one girl. But this is what they do (This is what they did? What are they doing here again?) At least they are working together, solving the problem, together, like a family. But they are ignoring the ‘child’ closer to home. ‘Daddy’ just wants him gone.

At Nina’s, the moon is about to rise. She can feel the change coming, she knows it instinctually. She’s about to get dangerous. She tries to lock herself away, keep her niece safe, but the beast is too strong. Luckily Angel turns up to save the day. That’s what he does.  He takes her to a safe place and explains what she is, tells her not to give up hope. It’s all about control. 

Angel and Spike take quite different views of the Nina situation. Angel believes they can help, that she can control the monster and learn to adapt. Spike thinks it’s inevitable that the nature of the monster will win, at least once in a while then have to deal with the consequences when she’s in non-beastly form. They seem to be taking each other's arguments here - Spike is the master adaptor who is in complete control of his inner demon. Angel is the one, who faces the daily challenge of control, whose monstrous nature escapes periodically and who suffers with crippling guilt. It shows us that they have more admiration for each other than they’d care to admit.  Another interesting contrast is their attitudes to humanity as a whole. Spike cares about who he cares about. Those people are few and far between but these few are the recipients of generous love, selfless consideration and undeniable loyalty. His love for humanity is less well-developed; he has only had the soul back for about a year and in actuality, he mirrors the way most people operate. Angel’s love of humanity is more well-practiced. He helps the helpless, that’s what he does. He’s got to do it, to reconnect to humanity. That’s his mission. But is this love genuine or part and parcel of the job? At this point I don’t think even Angel knows. One thing for certain is that Angel loved Connor more than anything and was prepared to tamper with his friend’s minds in order to give him a normal life. Spike’s later day mentor taught him that you can’t beat evil by doing evil. She had the chip removed from his brain to prove it. It's a bit of a shame Angel never had the same instruction. 

Some take the view that Spike has always been motivated purely by selfishness and self-interest and that’s why he acts the way he does in this episode. But this is marginalising all character development that he went through prior to moving to LA, and the fact that in this scenario Spike is scared and worried about what’s going to happen to him. He has a right to be; He’s being sucked into Hell. He sees this girl, this stranger, getting the full force of Angel Investigations, while he, with all his connections to Angel, gets nothing. Of course it doesn’t help his cause that he keeps his problem a secret. A family can’t help if they don’t know there’s a problem in the first place. Fred knows, but she’s too worried about incurring ‘Daddy’s’ wrath if she pays any attention to the black sheep of the family, especially when he needs her working on something else.  

Angel takes the fact that Nina was bitten very personally, despite the fact that the event was out of his control. Lorne likens him to Atlas, carrying the weight of the heavens on his shoulders. Angel and Atlas have a few things in common…both labour under the weight of spiritual burden, both are punished for fighting the ‘gods’. Atlas lost outright; Zeus singled him out for punishment, by making him carry the heavens on his shoulders. And Angel? Well, we’ve already been shown that his ‘reward’ of the Los Angeles Branch of Wolfram and Hart is not all it’s cracked up to be and is in fact a sentence, a burden to be endured. In an interesting side note, another legend tells that the great hero Perseus asked Atlas for a place to stay, but Atlas refused. In response, Perseus showed Atlas the head of Medusa, which turned him to the stone that is now known as Mount Atlas. Angel, it must be noted has been less than hospitable to Spike and, in coming episodes, he does get metaphorically frozen by the possibility that Spike might be the fabled “vampire with a soul”, and not him.  Funnily enough, the story of Perseus was retold under the name ‘The Terrible Head’ in a collection of stories entitled Blue Fairy Book, published in 1898 (coincidentally, the same year Angel was cursed with his soul).  The Blue Fairy has significance in the story of Pinocchio when she turns the marionette into a real boy. To be a ‘real boy’ is the promise of the Shanshu prophecy regarding the vampire with a soul . . . but which vampire with a soul? There are two now. . .  

Anyway, back to the story…Lorne also blames Spike's sudden appearance on their first day at Wolfram and Hart as the reason that Angel’s lost his jolly. But that’s not the real reason, Spike’s just the distraction! Angel’s not a happy rancher, not because Spike is there but because Cordelia and Connor are not. Spike’s presence merely reminds him of that. But he can’t tell that to Lorne, or the others because then they’ll say ‘Connor who?’ and he’ll have to admit that he took away their memories, that he violated their trust and that this is the way he treats his family, who he supposedly loves. It’s easier to blame Spike.

At Nina’s house her sister is furious and worried. She cares. She wants to help. That’s what family does. It gets angry, but it still cares, still loves. But Nina, like Spike, is scared too. Ashamed of what she is, scared she’ll hurt someone, especially her sister or Amanda. She can’t explain it to them, not yet. She won’t tell. She’s too fearful of their reaction. On their way back to Wolfram and Hart, Nina gets abducted. Someone wants Nina and someone in Wolfram and Hart let it happen.  The team works out that Nina is wanted by a group of gastronomists who want to dine on werewolf flesh. Apparently it’ll be exquisite served with a drizzle of white truffle oil. Trouble is, to maintain the delicacy she has to be consumed while still alive. The team activates: the rescue mission is on. Got to save the girl, help the helpless. During the rescue, the Wolfram and Hart mole, Dr. Royce gets bitten by Nina. He's threatened with abandonment to the hungry hoards, but in the last act it's revealed that they have indeed found a measure of mercy. Perhaps there's hope for Spike yet?

Spike is back in Fred’s office. He’s very transparent. He’s quiet and subdued – well, a day of tantrums will tire you out eventually. Fred promises to help him and instantly he becomes less translucent and says like an endearingly cheeky brat, ‘no need to get dramatic’, repeating the words she’d used to him so dismissively earlier in the episode. Is this return to opaqueness subtle manipulation or the result of her belief and attention? Perhaps, it’s a bit of both. He’s happier now, he’s calmer. He’s got some attention and he’s satisfied. 

Angel takes Nina home and Angel gives us a touching indication that he misses being a father, misses Connor when he offers his refrigerator door as space to display Amanda’s artwork. They discuss the importance of her accepting what she is, dealing with it, not letting it rule her life and most importantly, not letting it separate her from her family. Family are the anchor that keeps you attached to humanity:

Angel: Look, if you separate yourself from the ones you love, the monster wins. 

So does that mean his inner monster has won? He’s been separated from Connor and Cordelia. Doesn’t that mean the monster has won? But that was different, that was part of a deal to save them. That’s completely different. . . Isn’t it?

The episode closes with another family dinner with Chinese food. This time it is not outside, but inside, in Angel’s penthouse apartment, his sanctuary, no less. He gathers his ‘demon-hunting, helpless-helping, dysfunctional family’ in close. The monsters are not going to get this one. They look out of the window, trying to see the Hyperion Hotel, their old ‘home’, the place where they knew who they were, trying to find something familiar in this foreign world, looking for reassurance. But they find reassurance looking at each other, trusting in each other. It’s nicely wrapped up. The family is reunited, gone is suspicion and mistrust from earlier. They know that when they work together they’ll win the day. It’s all about family. 

Except…

Spike; his absence is glaringly obvious.  He’s plainly not part of this family. He is absent from all the exclusive ‘family’ scenes, just like Connor. And it's not that Angel is particularly vengeful or malicious. It’s just that the wrong son has moved in and this ‘son’ makes him uncomfortable. This ‘son’ has faced the demon inside and won, he asked for the soul, he’s a unified whole. He’s done everything that Angel has, got the soul, made the comeback from the ‘dead’, loved the girl, saved the world. If he says that Spike’s not special then doesn’t that mean that maybe, Angel’s not so special either? Spike makes him uncomfortable. Spike raises awkward possibilities, just as he’s always done. 

Up next: 5.4 - Hellbound

[goddesspharo]

I am blown away by “that on and off again (and on again)” and “twenty percent skill, eighty percent beer” Hannix stories! 🤩🤩🤩 Can we have a sneak peek into the next chapters or when you think you’ll post them? 🥰

I had the most infuriating day so thank you for this ask because it made me smile - I'm glad you're enjoying them! Life is definitely getting in the way of writing. The funny thing is I know every beat that both of these stories will take instead of seeing where the writing takes me so you'd think it would be done already.

twenty percent skill, eighty percent beer was always going to be a two-parter (because I cannot drag yet another WIP into the abyss of a nebulous or ever-expanding chapter count) so the next part is the last part. It's about a third done and I really thought I was going to just bang it out while I still had momentum, but then I got distracted with something else. (I'm almost positive it was a string of insane nights on call and a bunch of shitty movies.) This will probably be done before the other ones though.

that on and off again (and on again) is more peculiar in that I've got probably a quarter of the next chapter (Positano, baby!) done, admittedly not in any sort of order, but I've got like 90% of the last chapter done. I started writing it, realized it was meant to be for something that comes way later, and ended up basically rolling with that. So I really need to finish the Positano chapter because the San Diego, again chapter is tap dancing near the end zone waiting to finish this game.

Any sneak peek for the time loop fic would give too much away so here's a snippet from that on and off again (and on again):

All in all, Natasha thinks they're doing okay until Lexie's eyes dart between them and she asks, "So what's really going on with you two anyway?" "What do you mean?" Natasha asks casually as Jake's grip tightens around the steering wheel. "You didn't actually think anyone believed that Jake brought his work colleague to a destination wedding, did you?" "We're not talking about this right now," Jake quickly replies, glancing at the rear view mirror to flash his sister a look to drop it. "False. I need something to distract me from this excruciating pain." Lexie shifts her attention back to Nat and declares, "Clearly, you're fucking each other." "We're really not," Natasha replies, for once not lying about her non-relationship status with Hangman. They are technically no longer fucking. Sure, the technicality started forty minutes ago, but it still counts as the truth.

[elvenxwarrior]

Comfort - Leviathan

Masterlist

You can also find this posted on my AO3!

Levi was walking towards your room when he noticed you dash into your room, obviously crying. His heart sank and he ran up to your door, trying to open it.

"(Y/N)? Are you ok? Let me in, please!" You don't reply but he can hear you sobbing through the door. He rests his back against the door and slides down to the floor.

"We can talk like this if it makes you more comfortable. Or you can text me. I'm here."

—— Above by MysticLucy ——

Leviachan [Name], I'm worried about you. Seen at 11:36pm Please say something. Or text me something. I've never seen you like this. Seen at 11:36pm [Name] Hey... x Seen at 11:37pm Sorry for worrying you... x Seen at 11:37pm Are you still by the door? x Seen at 11:37pm Leviachan Yes... x Seen at 11:38pm

From the other side of the door, Leviathan heard a sigh and the sound of something gently hitting the door. The Envious Demon and the Human were now sat back-to-back, the only thing separating them being the locked door.

"Hey." Came your monotonous yet high-pitch voice, still ripe with sadness.

"Hey." He replied, full of sympathy, "So... I'm not sure what to do, you know... social awkwardness and all..."

"It's okay..." You sniffled, wiping your nose with a tissue.

"But I do know I want to help... Do you... want to talk about it?"

There was a pause, then another sigh, "Sure..."

"You don't have to if you don't want to, [Name]..."

"I actually do want to talk about it, Levi." On your side, you had your favourite stuffed animal hugged to your chest with your knees.

On his side, Leviathan had shuffled around and was now sideways with his back against one side of the doorframe and his feet on the other, "Alright..."

"Now, don't feel bad about not knowing what to do, okay?" You briefly paused, wiping your nose again, "I don't need you to say or do anything, I'd just like you to listen..."

Leviathan's heart was breaking. He could hear that you were trying not to cry in order to speak clearly, "Okay. Take your time..."

He listened for the full (what felt like and probably was) half an hour to forty-five minutes of you talking.

About how after finishing human school and going into RAD, you were scared you wouldn't do well in classes.

About how you miss your family and Human Realm friends but you don't want to leave the Devildom.

The time restriction of a year in the Devildom put somewhat of a restraint on you -

"I have this pressure to finish all my tasks, have a good time, make friends, all that shit, all over again- but what will come of it when I go home? Do I get a certificate for completing RAD for memories? Do I leave with Devil Qualifications? I can't take my D.D.D. with me back to the Human Realm, I can't-"

Leviathan tried to slip his fingers under the door when he heard your panicked breathing; when that failed, he calmly spoke, "[Name], open the door, please."

Surprised that you did as he asked, the door clicked and opened. You immediately fell into his arms in violent sobs of, "I just can't!"

He held you close, on the floor of the hallway, arms tightly around you. "It's okay... it's okay..."

After some time, you had calmed down; your breathing was regular and you were no longer crying.

"Thank you, Leviathan..."

He placed your stuffed animal, that had been carelessly dropped to the floor, in your arms, "It's alright, [Name]. You seem a lot better now."

You stayed cuddled like that for another two minutes before Leviathan made a very wise suggestion:

"I think you should take a few days off, mental health days y'know? You can come spend it in my room with me and my games if you want or... I'm sure Satan would let you in his room to read?"

You nodded, muttering more "thank you"s to the blue haired demon as he helped you up and accompanied you in your room for more comfort.

[barry-j-blupjeans]

2022 Fic List!

This is a compilation of all the fics I've posted on Ao3 in 2022, plus some ficlets I like that I posted here! As always, Journal Pages is still being updated but I'm not gonna put it on this list because I made it last year (I think??)

Memories, Just a Bit To the Left

Being kidnapped was, honestly, not incredibly horrible. It wasn’t a good thing, for sure, for sure, but Barry could deal with it. Was he low on hit points? Yeah, and it was shitty. Did he feel like he was going to die? Occasionally, that’s just something that happens sometimes, you know? But it wasn’t all bad. Some of the gerblins were nice. They gave him some water, kicked him around a bit more, gave him an orange that they refused to peel so Barry just kind of spat the peel out as he went. A solid three out of five stars.

But he wasn’t too worried about the whole thing. Even as low as his hit points got, he knew that Taako would come find him. It was just a matter of if he would find Barry too late.

This was for the 2021 Candlenights exchange and it is killer, I think. I really enjoyed getting to write this and explore the space of this AU.

Archaeology Excavation on My Body

“How do you always know everything?” he asked instead of rising to her bait. “That’s the secret I want to know, ma’am. You’ve got prying eyes anywhere? Listening ears?”

"I run a secret organization on the moon,” the Director said dryly. “I’ve grown accustomed to knowing both everything and absolutely nothing at the same time. If you don’t want me to know, then I won’t know. I’ll never bring it up again. I’m simply offering us a way to, uh-” she glanced at the wall. It had been twenty minutes since the Reclaimers went offline. “Pass the time. And perhaps a way to help manage your pain a little better. No one else has noticed, Angus, but you do tend to limp a bit.”

Fuck, Angus thought.

This one was a pure vent fic, but I'm glad other people could relate to it anyway! I love giving characters I like everything that's wrong with me.

Tedious Familiarity

Déjà vu. Noun. A feeling of having already experienced the present situation. A tedious familiarity.

Barry Bluejeans woke up in a cave, fresh out of a pod filled with green goop, and saddled with an unsettling feeling that he had been here before. If you had asked forty-year-old Barry if he would follow instructions left by a talking coin, he probably would have asked you what type of drugs you were on. But, y’know, fifty… two? Fifty-one? How old was he? Fifty-two sounded right. But, y’know, fifty-two years old Barry didn’t really have that many other places to turn, so this couldn't be all that bad.

Barold my beloved!! I love any take on Barry's years alone and I thought I'd give myself a stab at it! Or several stabs, if we're going by death count. I really like how this one came out!!

Heart-Shaped Stickers

A collection of my blupjeans week prompts for 2022!

As seen on the tin sldkfsd.

Keep Your Friends Close (And the Lich Who Gives You Cryptic Advice Closer)

“There’s a lot you don’t know and I can’t tell you yet,” the Red Robe said. “And I’m genuinely sorry about that, Magnus, but right now, from the Bureau’s perspective, I’m not the good one.”

“From your perspective?” Magnus asked.

“From my- I…” he stopped again, contemplating, as if no one had ever asked him this question before. "I try to be, I think."

AKA: Magnus has questions and no one from the Bureau is giving him answers. He goes looking for the one person who will.

This baby is my pride and joy of this year, I think. It has always taken me Ages to write any chaptered fic but I'm very very proud of this one.

Autumn-Themed Notebook

Prompt fills for TAZ November Celebration 2022.

Again, as seen on the tin!

Now onto the Tumblr Ficlets!!

This list would not be complete without this ficlet about Magnus, Carey, and Killian discussing Magnus's top surgery or this one about a heart-shaped locket Barry picked up. Some other favorites from this year include:

Voidfished Taako interacting with Red Robe Lup and Barry (x)

June/The Temporal Chalice finding Barry's worst memory (x)

Merle and Hekuba talking post Story and Song (x)

Lucretia and Magnus talking about emotions and the stars (x)

Lucretia discovering the umbrastaff broke early (x)

Barry and Lucretia forming a truce to fuck over Governer Kalen (x)

Lucretia trying to discover who's stealing from the Fantasy Costco (x)

Taako taking the fall for all of Lup's deaths (x)

The Starblaster Crew stealing Magnus's shirts while he's dead (x)

Taako, Kravitz, and the mafia - Werewolf edition! (x1, x2, x3)

I gotta stop there or else this will go on forever sldfksdf. Let me know if you have any particular favorites from what I've written this year :D! It'd mean the world to me. My writing tag is #ise cube writing as always and my ao3 is IntrovertedHappiness if you wanna go check me out there!