#i’ve already started tearing up just thinking about it so pray for me… keep your fingers crossed

[kickthecan-revolution]

My friend from Seattle Mike and I have this kind of spooky relationship where he reaches out with something for me after his prayer times. He’s a deeply spiritual person who helps vulnerable, marginalized people be well in their body, mind and spirit. He’s such a good guy. We aren’t close friends but it’s been happening for years, when I need to hear from Gcd the most, Mike shows up in my Facebook messenger. He even wrote about it in his book. It doesn’t happen with any of his other acquaintances. It even happened the night of my first mammogram and when I found out the tumor was bigger.

So when he let me know he was in town to give a talk to a group of people from a church, I decided to go. I haven’t been around Christians in years, pretty charismatic ones, I have a rocky relationship with that group and they always make me feel a little uncomfortable I’m not really a Christia, I don’t think I ever really was but there is some thing that deeply resonates about the Holy Spirit for me and always has since I was little. I just don’t understand all of the other stuff around it, so I stopped going to church because I just felt like I was using it and using all the people who build such a lifestyle and have such a commitment to it. I felt disingenuous and I’ve always felt super uncomfortable and organized religion as a result.

I was in Seattle Thur-Fri and decided to triple check the time of the gathering and realized it was Saturday morning, not evening – so I was able to change my flight to take a 6 AM flight home to make sure I could drive the hour for the 10am start. I got up at 3:45 AM to make sure I got to the airport so already a long day before I even got there.

I walk in and it’s this guy’s apartment and there’s maybe 15 or 20 people there. I don’t know anyone, they are mostly Chinese or Korean – obviously part of the very specific community, very Christian. I felt uncomfortable, but it was so great to see Mike, and people were generally nice. Some people had actually flown in from other places to hear Mike and I teased him for being kind of a big deal.

The pastor of the church was there and Mike ended up giving kind of a talk back-and-forth. I was immediately annoyed that the pastor talked so much and didn’t give Mike a chance to speak. It was an interesting topic - identity - and the question and answer time I talked a little bit about how I found it very easy to hide from myself in church culture – that I actually didn’t deal with my pain, it probably didn’t have anything to do with the people around me, but more about me wanting to hide and not having a commitment to change and to do that. Ultimately, I found Church mostly very lonely and i’d experience the most personal growth through my friends who were atheist. I was careful not to blame them, because I don’t think it’s their fault – it just wasn’t my place, it wasn’t my way.

The discussion then moved to a concept called soul ties – the person that you feel a connection to that is keeping you stuck in growth, the conversation that you constantly have in your head and always talk about. The groove you can’t get out of in your mind. So we broke up into small groups and talked about our soul ties and prayed for each other – I was a little uncomfortable, but was with the sweetest young man and an older woman who again, wouldn’t stop talking. She wasn’t vulnerable at all, she was exactly the type of person who did a lot of scolding about Harry Potter and witchcraft and blah blah blah. I was totally annoyed. When it was my turn, I talked about my soul tie I wanted freedom from and they prayed for me – and in the quiet the young man Leo said “Diane, I think God wants you to know that he trusts you.” I have no idea why, but that hit my heart so loudly and I burst into tears. I’m still processing why.

After lunch, there was a time for prayer. I dug in stubbornly and told myself that I’m not going to ask for prayer, that if I was meant for it, somehow it would come up in the room with all of these strangers. I had this picture of the paralyzed man from the Bible being dropped down by his friends, and even though those weren’t my friends, that was the only way I was going to be prayed for. There’s something about having cancer that you want to tell everybody and you don’t want to tell anybody all at the same but when you say it – it’s a real party stopper. It almost feels kind of manipulative to talk about it.

So the pastor asked, “who would like prayer?” and immediately this random guy said I just feel like we need to pray for Diane”. Remember, I don’t know any of these people they were total strangers – I looked at Mike and asked if he had said anything and he looked bewildered and said no. I absolutely burst into tears in the whole room to me and I told them what was going on – they gathered around me and prayed, and one of them said Diana’s like the paralyzed man that was lowered down to be prayed for- that actually happened.

I said all of it out loud how I feel like I’ve done this to myself, and I’ve hurt my friends and my family and a process. All that guilt and shame just poured out and the fear of being mostly alone during the treatments. I told them I was not going to ask for prayer but that I had the picture of being dropped down on the mat in that room. I think they were all freaked out as I was

Afterwards, I met two women from my area who could go to a local church. I grab their numbers. I’m still pretty suspect of Christians and their role in this world but I think two things can be true at the same time. Regardless, it was a remarkable experience, and between that and the peace of being in Seattle I’m as ready as I’m going to be.

[chheese-mmmhh]

buck is actually the most bisexual person to ever exist methinks…doesn’t even matter if they make it canon because LOOK AT HIM…listen to the words he says and you tell me that’s not a bisexual

[graysturns]

𝕨𝕚𝕝𝕝 𝕙𝕖 | 𝕞.𝕤.

3.7k+ words

note: this had me crying! please listen to will he by joji on repeat to feel what i felt okay? okay love u guys bye

warnings: toxic relationship, weed use, alcohol consumption, p in v (unprotected), oral (fem recieving).

lightly proofread

⠈⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄

“you need to fucking relax. you get so worked up over nothing and now you’re bitching and whining at me over something that has nothing to do with me!” matt yells in my direction while sifting through his hamper.

“do you really think that’s okay? some girl whispering in your ear like that? it’s obvious she had an ulterior motive. and that way she put her hand on your chest, you didn’t even try to stop her! and now you won’t tell me what she was say-“

“why can’t you drop this? it was loud and i couldn’t hear her so she leaned into me. what the fuck was i supposed to do?” he interrupts.

“i don’t know, maybe establish a boundary? you always do this. it’s like i don’t matter to you. behind closed doors it’s ‘i love you baby, i can’t live without you, you’re my whole life’, it’s like i’m dating two different people!” i mock him.

“you’re such a fucking simp when it’s the two of us but god forbid another person is around. you forget i exist!” i continue.

“you already know i don’t like pda. no one needs to know the personal details of our relationship. i’m sorry you feel that way but that’s just how i am. you’re always trying to change me.” he huffs before throwing a hoodie down on his bed.

“matt, i’m not trying to change you. i just need to know that you love me. it hurts me that you’re so indifferent towards me at times. i need to know you feel the same way i do.” i choke out, tears forming in my eyes.

suddenly, his phone buzzes. i barely see the instagram message notification before he quickly grabs it and shoves it back in his pocket.

he lowers his head before bringing a hand up to his mouth, starting to bite his nails.

“what was that?” i stare back at him.

“it was nothing.”

“so, why are you being fucking weird?”

“i’m not being weird.”

“fuck this.” i grab my bag from his chair and walk to the door of his bedroom.

“where are you going?”

“matthew, i can’t be with you. i need — no i deserve — someone who loves me the way i should be loved. it feels like i embarrass you. you think i haven’t seen the models you follow? you’re so weird about your phone these days and i don’t have the energy to ignore it anymore. i’m not enough for you, but there’s probably someone out there praying for someone like me, someone who would kiss the ground i walk on, and appreciate me for who i am. you’re not him, but i’m going to find him. have a good fucking life matt.”

he stands at the foot of the bed, arms limp and slack-jawed.

i raise my eyebrows at him, awaiting some sort of response, but he rolls his eyes before turning around, focusing on his laundry once again.

“leave then, ungrateful bitch!” he scoffs as i slam the door behind me.

-two months later-

my head is pounding from the loud music blaring all around me and the amount of shots I’ve taken, which i’ve now lost track of. i feel like shit but i need something, anything to keep my mind off matt.

a pair of hands grabs my waist as i’m dancing and leads me toward their groin. normally i’d turn around and berate the man who felt like he had the right to put his hands on me, but i really need some fucking attention.

i don’t even turn to look at him before i press my back against his chest and move my hips in circles.

i can feel him move my hair to the side and start to kiss up my neck.

gross.

i continue to move against him, focusing on the music playing loudly. i feel high and drunk at the same time and everything is so fuzzy. i feel like nothing matters anymore. i’m so numb.

i turn around and face the man. he’s tall and blonde, with blue eyes just like matt’s.

“do you wanna get out of here?” i blurt out without a second thought.

he smirks before taking my hand and leading me out the door.

matt’s pov

i lean out my window, one hand tightly gripping the sill while my other brings the joint back up to my lips, sucking the thin white smoke. i exhale through my nostrils, shutting my eyes tightly.

thirty minutes ago, a mutual friend of ours posted a snap story of her downing shots. there were multiple men all around her, watching her drown herself in liquor. she wore a tight little dress that showed off all my favorite parts of her. my blood boiled at the thought of them ravishing her with their eyes.

that particular friend group is notorious for bar-hopping, and leaving behind whoever isn’t paying attention. i can’t stand the thought of her being stranded there, unaware of her surroundings, vulnerable and an easy target for anyone waiting to take advantage of her.

i press my palms into my eyes, trying to push the thought of her away.

she isn’t my problem anymore.

a sharp sizzling noise brings my hands back down when i notice one strand of my hair is smoking, the joint still between my pointer and middle finger.

“fuck.” i press the joint into the small ashtray she made me, when we went on a date to the pottery studio.

“fuck!” i yell out the window, wanting to throw the small ceramic out onto the street, but i can’t.

i’m such an idiot. she’s the only thing i’ve ever cared about, and now she’s out there, probably fucking someone new. but there’s nothing i can do about it, she isn’t mine anymore.

i stand up and shut the window, grabbing a hoodie from the chair and throwing it on before heading out to my car.

the drive is short and quiet. i pull up to the outside of her apartment building and park underneath a tree, far enough away to remain unnoticed but close enough to watch.

about twenty minutes pass by, and my nails are bitten to nubs, when a silver car pulls into the spot right in front of her door. i watch as she stumbles out, dragging some tall, frat-boyish idiot out behind her. she sloppily waves goodbye at the car as it zooms away.

i feel my ears heat up as she stumbles in to her apartment, bringing him inside with her.

it takes everything in me not to bust in there and rip him off of her. my mind runs wild thinking of what he could be doing to her in there.

reader’s pov

we exit the car and i wave goodbye to the nice man who dropped us off. i fumble with my keys a little before going inside.

“welcome to my home!” i throw my hands up and giggle.

“wow, it’s very.. cute.” he stands with his hands in his pockets, looking around at the stuffed animals on my couch.

i grab his hand and lead him up the stairs to my bedroom. “i don’t normally do this, but i just need to fuck and you seem like the kinda guy whose down.. for that kinda thing.” i slur my words as we enter my bedroom.

“yeah i’m so down, i think you’re really hot.” he chuckles before eyeing me up and down.

i roll my eyes internally before slipping my dress off and kicking it aside.

“okay let’s do it!” i clasp my hands together and giggle softly.

he smirks before pushing me onto the bed. “what a little slut, giving it up for a guy you just met at the club, and you’re not even wearing underwear, i love it.” he bites his lip before getting down on his knees.

he places a kiss on my navel before harshly sucking on my clit, with no warning.

i yelp out in pain, and not the good kind.

i can’t stop thinking of matt, how good he is at this, how i miss his tongue on my skin.

he begins to lick my outer folds, before slamming a finger into my cervix.

“fuck!”

“what’s wrong?” he looks at me bewildered.

“i’m not even wet, dude? have you ever eaten pussy in your life?”

he nods quickly before traveling up to my breast, and massages it slowly before biting down harshly on my left nipple.

“ow! oh my god, what is happening to me right now?” i blurt out.

matt was always so gentle.

he has a sad look in his eyes, and i begin to feel sorry for him.

“no, look, i’m sorry. come here,” i gesture at him to get on the bed and hover over me.

“i have lube on the nightstand, it’s okay,” i reach over and grab it, pumping some on my hand before spreading it around my clit and folds.

he pulls his shirt and pants off, before pulling his cock out and teasing the head on me, still in his boxers.

i look down and see them bunched around his knees and get the biggest ick.

before he enters me, i stop him with a hand on his chest.

“i’m not on birth control, you need a condom.” i lie to his face.

i always let matt finish inside me.

he smirks at me again, “that’s okay, i can pull out.”

“okay, no. i’m sorry this isn’t working out.” i roll out from under him and open my bedroom door.

“i think you should go.” i lower my gaze.

“no i can do better! i promise!” he pleads.

“get the fuck out man! now! go! go! leave!”

he quickly grabs his things and pulls up his boxers before tripping.

oh my god. i’ve never been so disgusted in my life. i cover my face in embarrassment.

matt would never give me this much second-hand embarrassment.

he stands, knees shaking and running down the stairs with his clothes bunched up in his arms. the door slams and i let out a sigh.

i feel disgusting.

after crying on my bed for a good five minutes, i look in the mirror and see a splotchy, nude mess. there’s mascara on my cheeks and my hair is a birds nest atop my head.

i need a shower.

in the bathroom, i turn the shower on high heat and step underneath the running water.

i wash my hair and face, then proceed to scrub my skin raw everywhere he touched me. my skin is red and burning by the time i exit the shower but i can still feel his grimy hands on me.

with a plush towel, i pat myself down before wrapping my hair up and going back into my bedroom to blow dry my hair.

halfway through, i hear my phone ding from the nightstand, where i had hooked it up to charge. i slowly walk over and peek at the screen.

it’s matt.

matt’s pov

my knuckles turn white from the grip i’ve got on the steering wheel. the windows are down, allowing the cool air to come in, helping me control my breathing.

a door slams and i jerk my head in the direction of her apartment. i chuckle slightly at the scene before me.

the same man, is now outside, standing in his underwear with all his belongings bundled up under his arm. not even five minutes after he had gone inside. his cheeks burn a bright red as he drops everything to quickly get dressed.

that bad, huh?

i snap a picture quickly and try to keep myself from laughing out loud.

this may be her first time trying to get back out there, but i can’t imagine how difficult it’d be for her to allow a man back in her bed after she’s had me.

i roll my windows up so i can watch him without being noticed. he’s scrambling to do something on his phone, shaking and crying.

how pathetic.

i can’t imagine how she’s feeling, probably sad, angry, maybe even missing me.

i decide to wait another twenty minutes. in the meantime, the mystery man is sat up against the wall crying into his hands.

finally, a car comes and he practically jumps in. they drive away pretty quickly.

i pull my phone out and shoot her a quick text. i miss her so bad, and i think she may be upset enough to actually hear me out.

thirty seconds pass and her name is on my screen, vibrating.

i slowly slide the answer button before bringing it up to my ear.

“hey baby,” i breathe out.

“uh.. hey,” she whispers.

“can we talk?”

“yeah i think that would be good.. can you come over now?”

“i’m already outside, sweetheart” i chuckle before pulling my key from the ignition.

reader’s pov

my heart is beating out of my chest.

he’s outside.

how long has he been out there?

did he see him?

fuck.

fuck!

there’s a small knock at the door, i quickly grab my robe from the hook of my bedroom door and slide it on, then run down the stairs.

i open the door to see matt, with his hair all fluffy and stubble on his jaw.

“hi matty,” i let out meekly, opening the door wider to let him in.

he smiles and follows me inside, shutting the door before grabbing my wrist and pulling me into a tight hug.

i feel my body relax into his warm plush hoodie, letting go of all the stress built up inside me. i wrap my legs around his waist and he carries me to the couch, covered in all the stuffies he had bought me. he takes a seat, and leans his head on my shoulder, exhaling softly into my neck. i twist my body so i’m on my side, laying between his legs, my head in the spot where his neck and shoulder meet, his hold on me still firm.

“baby,” he rubs small circles on my thigh.

“hm?” i look up at him through my lashes.

“i’m sorry. for everything. i took you for granted, and i shouldn’t have. you mean the world to me.” he sighs.

“you did. you hurt me a lot matt.”

“that girl, she was flirting with me and she kept messaging me, but nothing ever happened, i ignored all her messages but she wouldn’t sto-“

“i don’t want to talk about her right now, please.” tears threaten to spill over.

“i know, i know, i’m sorry. i just really need you to know i was never unloyal. i was just in a rough spot and i took it out on you. i didn’t know how to handle my emotions.”

i nod softly.

“and i’m sorry for calling you those names. and cursing at you. i hate myself for disrespecting you. these last two months have been absolute hell for me. i can’t get you out of my head, sweetheart.”

i nod again.

“i’m sorry for not showing you off, you’re the most beautiful woman on this planet, and i hate the thought of anyone looking at what’s mine and-and trying to pick you apart to get to me. i like keeping you my secret, that way you’re safe from the world around us.”

i raise an eyebrow at him.

“but that doesn’t mean i’m not going to do it. you’re worth so much more than you know to me. you deserve to be showered with love and adoration. you deserve everything, baby.”

i sit up slightly. “what does this mean, matt?”

he runs a hand through his fluffy hair before resting it on my hip. “it means i want to be with you, i can’t stand the thought of you being with anyone else. i’m ready to be the man you need me to be, if you’ll let me.” he looks at me with hopeful, bloodshot eyes.

i lean in and kiss him softly, resting my hand on his jaw.

he kisses me back with urgency before i pull away.

a tear slips down his face, breaking my heart into a million pieces.

“matty no,” i cry out and swipe it away, kissing him again.

“i love you. i need you back, please. if i need to get on my knees right here, i will.”

“please don’t get on your knees, you’re gonna make me cry.” i give him a small smile before curling up in his chest.

he wraps his arms around me and kisses my head. “can we go to bed, please?”

“of course,” i stand, grabbing his hand and pulling him up from his spot on the couch, leading him up the stairs.

he takes a seat on the edge of the bed, grabbing my hips and pressing his head against my abdomen, kissing me sweetly over my robe.

i bend down to his level and press my forehead against his, our noses touching.

“matt, i love you more than anything.” i whisper into his lips.

he grabs me and places me on his lap, so i’m straddling him, before he kisses me passionately.

“i missed this, so so much.” he sighs.

he lies back and kisses me with so much love, i feel my heart pounding through my chest.

i undo the tie at the front of the robe and start to pull it off my shoulders, leaving me bare.

“no, we don’t have to, i don’t want to make you feel pressured.” he grabs a hold of my elbow.

“no matt, i need this, please.” i plead at him with my eyes.

“you don’t have to ask me again, sweetheart,” he smiles before kissing my nose and flips us over, so i’m on my back.

he travels down to the valley of my breasts, leaving sweet, tender kisses along the way, then, a kiss on each of my hardened nipples. he takes the left one in his mouth and sucks softly while his free hand caresses the other, circling my nipple with his thumb.

he’s so gentle.

he focuses his mouth on the other for a minute, before traveling down to my glistening bundle of nerves.

“you’re so wet for me already, baby,” he gasps before running a finger up to my clit, collecting my arousal on his fingertip.

he pops it in his mouth, his eyes rolling back at the taste of me. i clench my legs together in desperation.

running his hand along the hem of his hoodie, he pulls it off, along with his sweatpants and boxers. his cock springs up, and i’m so happy to see him.

matt lies on his stomach, propped up by his elbows, before diving his face into my throbbing cunt.

he teases by moving his tongue in circles around the clit, then lays his tongue flat, making me shake uncontrollably under his touch.

oh, how i missed that tongue.

i squeeze his head with my thighs from the pleasure he’s giving me and he chuckles, his hot breath tickling my clit. he starts to place soft kitten licks on my sensitive spot before running a finger around the ‘u’ shape of my entrance, then slowly pushing it in.

i let out a loud moan. “matt! i need you please,”

“patience baby, i’m just getting started.” he starts to fuck my hole with his tongue, and i let out a scream.

“i can’t, i can’t wait!” i sit up and grab his hand, pulling him up towards me.

he smiles cheekily then positions himself at my entrance, teasing me up and down. i grab the back of his head and press our foreheads together, kissing him roughly.

“fuck me matt, i need you to fuck me.” i pull my knees up to my chest, opening my legs wide for him to enter.

first, he puts the tip in, and pulls it back out. then he thrusts forward, agonizingly slow.

his face contorts in pleasure, as if it were his first time.

then he picks up the pace, swinging his hips against me, groaning and praising my body.

i’m clawing at his back, desperate for his cock to go further inside me.

“matty please, deeper,” i whine.

“patience baby, patience.” he rolls his hips, causing me to let out a long string of curses.

i start to buck up my hips, wanting more.

“i said be patient baby. fuck,” he flips me around and pulls my hips up, so my face is buried in the pillows, before ramming into me from behind. i let out another scream, this time muffled by the pillows.

he grabs onto my hair and pulls my head back, slamming into me over and over again. i can feel the tip deep inside me, rearranging and disrupting whatever organs in its way.

the sounds of his groans and skin slapping make me feel fuzzy and light, i can feel my orgasm creeping up on me.

“matt, i’m gonna-“

“i know sweetheart, hold it for me, i’m almost there.” he bring his hand down to where we meet and rubs circles around my clit, causing me to clench around him.

my legs start to shake uncontrollably as i finish on his dick, and his thrusts slow down as he fills me up with cum.

matt came inside me. and it felt so good.

he pulls out and watches intently as it drips down my leg, then reaches over to the nightstand to grab a tissue. he wipes up my leg and around my pussy and throws the tissue at the waste bin in the corner, then falls beside me, pulling me into his arms.

he pulls the comforter out from underneath us and covers me, then reaches over to turn the lamp off. i snuggle into him, nuzzling my face into his neck.

“i’m so happy you’re back, i was dying without you.” i whisper into his neck.

“believe me, i know.” he kisses my head.

i close my eyes and start to drift off before he asks, “who was that guy that left here, crying?”

i widen my mouth in embarrassment. “fuck matt, you know about that?”

“yeah, i was uh, gathering up the courage to talk to you, and i saw him there. who was he?” he trails off.

“he was nobody. a disappointment, a distraction.”

“did you fuck him? before we uh, you know?” he asks with sad eyes.

i kiss him sweetly. “no baby, all he did was remind me how much i needed you.”

he sighs in satisfaction and pulls me closer. “i��m never letting you go again.”

⠈⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄

this is probably my favorite thing. i love it. hope you guys love it too 🤍

comment on this post to be added to my tag list! :)

tags??:

@imwetforyourmom @anonymouslyachrisgirl @junnniiieee07

[mynameismckenziemae]

Ain’t No Sunshine When She’s Gone-Chapter VII

We Robert ‘Bob’ Floyd x Female Reader (no use of y/n)

She’s always gone too long

(previous chapter here, next chapter here)

Warnings: talk of medical stuff (sutures, blood, needles, etc)

“They’re being evaluated by medical now.”

A wave of nausea hits you at Penny’s words. Relief that he’s alive, along with everyone else, but fearing the extent of his injuries. You plop down beside her on the stairs with a heavy sigh. Penny squeezes your shoulder before rubbing a hand over your back.

“Does it get easier? The deployments?” You ask, already knowing the answer.

“No. It doesn’t. All you can do is try not to worry and pray they make it back.” She replies.

________________________________________

Waiting is the worst part. You and Steve hang out with Penny and Amelia in the house for the day, watching Nicholas Sparks movies on the couch.

Your phone starts to buzz. It’s a text from Jake.

Jake: Hey Sun. I haven’t seen them yet, but I think they’re okay. They took them to medical on scoop stretchers as a precaution but heard Nat bitching about it, and you know she would’ve been a wreck if she wasn’t sure Bob was good. You okay?

Tears of relief spring to your eyes. You feel like you can breathe again. He’s right, Natasha would’ve been fighting them every step of the way if Bob hadn’t responded to her.

Sunny: Oh thank God. I’ve been worried sick. I’m okay now. Thank you thank you thank you for telling me. Are you okay? Did you see them come in?

Jake: No problem, I’d want to know too if I wasn’t here. I heard them take the hit and about lost it. But Nat was so calm. Bob too, as usual. Just calmly asked them to deploy the barrier net as it was gonna be rough. I thought I was gonna puke. But she landed it perfectly under the circumstances, like always.

You get a picture from him and gasp when you open it—it’s a gorgeous, white-gold diamond engagement ring.

Jake: Don’t say anything, but I’m asking her to marry me when I get to see her. I’ve had the ring for a while, just been trying to plan the perfect proposal. But after today I realized it doesn’t matter, she doesn’t care. Life’s too fucking short.

Sunny: OMG JAKE! It’s gorgeous! She’s going to love it! Congratulations!

Jake: Don’t jinx it! She hasn’t said yes yet. 😬

Sunny: Lol, there’s no doubt in my mind that she will. I better get an invite to the wedding.

Jake: Of course, if Nat doesn’t steal you as a bridesmaid, you’ll be standing with me as a groomsman. I think you can pull off a tux.

Sunny: Haha, I don’t know about that. I’d do it for you though.

Sunny: Nat told me you wanted to kill Derek that night at the Hard Deck. I’m really glad you didn’t (you’re too pretty for prison), but thank you for being my corner.

Jake: I would’ve in a heartbeat (I look good in orange) but I couldn’t have lived with myself if he would’ve hurt you because I stepped in. I’m sorry I didn’t see the signs sooner and wasn’t there for you.

Sunny: It’s not your fault. Nor is it mine I’ve come to realize. I’m just glad he’s gone and I can talk freely to you guys again.

Jake: Me too. I missed you. Hey, I gotta go. I think one of the nurses is coming. I’ll keep you updated if Bob can’t have his phone.

Sunny: Sounds good, thanks again, Jake. Go get your girl!

________________________________________

You fill Penny and Amelia in on what Jake’s told you, leaving the proposal out since it’s not your news to share. Soon after, Penny leaves the room to take Pete’s call.

Amelia heads out too, going to get ready to hang with friends now that the dark cloud hanging over you all has lifted.

Soon Penny is back, offering no updates other than that they should hopefully be stateside again in the next day or two.

You head back up to your apartment to feed Steve his supper when you get another incoming text, this time from Nat.

Nat: Hey, Bob’s okay! He has a cut on his cheek from the glass and some bruising on his chest from the restraints, but he’s okay. I just got discharged and doc was going in by Bradley next, and then Bob.

You take a deep breath, the weight finally lifting from your chest.

Sunny: THANK YOU. I don’t even know what to say. I can’t express to you how grateful I am for getting him got him back. How are you?

Nat: I told you I’d bring him back safe. I’m great actually. 💍

A picture comes through of her and Jake. Tear-stained faces pressed together and grinning from ear to ear as she holds up her left hand, showing off her new ring.

Sunny: CONGRATULATIONS! What a beautiful ring! I’m so happy for you two!

Nat: He did good, didn’t he? I hate to do this, but can I let you go? Jake wants to call his mama and show her.

Sunny: Of course! Thank you again. Love ya.

Nat: Love you! See you soon!

________________________________________

Bradley calls soon after.

“Hey Sunny girl, how are ya? Holding up okay?”

“Hey, yeah I’m good now that I know you’re all okay. How are you?”

“Physically, I’m fine, I didn’t need medical but it’s protocol if you’re hit. Mentally though? I’m a little shaken up actually.” He replies, the vulnerability in his response surprising you.

“Will you tell me about it?” You ask, phrasing it that way so he doesn’t feel pressured.

“Yeah, okay. I knew they had me locked in and I barrel-rolled to avoid the brunt of it, but in that split second I—I know it sounds cliche but my life flashed before my eyes. I thought I was done for, that I’d be seeing my rents again soon,” voice shaking, he continues, “The whole flight back I just kept thinking about everything I haven’t experienced, I mean I’ve done some cool shit in my life but…I don’t have anyone to share it with. No one to come home to, just an empty, quiet house. I don’t mean—I…I know I have you back again, I’m so grateful for that, and your mom and dad have never stopped trying, even though I keep them at arms length. Fuck, this isn’t coming out right at all, sorry.” He laughs wetly through his tears. “I just wanna love someone like my dad loved my mom, you know? Marriage, kids all that. Man, who knew almost dying would turn you into a sap?”

Your heart hurts for him. “I understand. It’s okay to want those things. You’ll find her.”

“I hope so. If not, I’ll just join you and Bob. We can be a throuple.” He replies, voice clearer now, back to his antics.

You laugh. “Maybe not that, but you know I’m always here for you, right? My parents too. And Mav and Penny. We all love you.”

“Yeah, I know. Thanks, Sunny girl. Hey, I think Bob’s about done. I’ll let you go. See you in a few days, alright?”

“Sounds good, can’t wait to see you all” you reply, hanging up.

________________________________________

You lay on the couch and Steve joins you, plopping down with a heavy sigh on your chest, pushing the air out of your lungs. You laugh and boop his nose. “You’re relieved too, huh?”

Your heart begins to pound when your phone rings. You accept the FaceTime and burst into tears as his sweet face appears, looking as handsome as ever, even when sporting a neatly sutured cut on his cheek.

“Oh no, I’m okay. I’m so sorry, honey. Please, don’t cry.” He says, slurring slightly.

“No, I’m sorry, I’m just so relieved. Are you okay? You sound funny.” You ask, laughing as Steve’s head pops up when he hears Bob.

“Yeah,” he yawns. “So I really don’t like needles. And they told me they had to numb the cut first so they could put stitches in. Then they pulled out this big needle and were about to stick it in my face to numb it. But then I got super lightheaded and the nurse told the doctor I was going…vasovaginal or something? Then they laid me down and put my feet up for a few minutes and gave me…a lousy-pam pill? I think that’s what they said, I don’t know, it made me tired though. I told them I don’t have a vagina though. Why would they say that Sunny?”

You bite your lip to keep from laughing as you answer. “It sounds like you had a vasovagal reaction, which just means you were about to faint. It happens all the time when needles are involved. They put your feet up to get the blood flowing back to your head. The pill sounds like it was lorazepam, to help you relax to have the stitches done. Which looks good, by the way.”

“Oh…okay. That makes sense. God, you’re so smart, Sun” he chuckles.

“Thanks,” You smile, tears already drying.

He is going to be mortified tomorrow if he remembers this.

You can see he’s fighting to keep his eyes open. “I’m sorry, but I think I’m gonna go to bed. I’m just so tired.”

“I understand. I’m just glad I was able to see you. Do you know if anyone called Annie?”

“I’m not sure, could you though? And tell her I love her?” He mumbles, eyes drifting closed, the phone dropping slightly in his hand.

“Yeah, I’ll call her. Goodnight. I’m so glad you’re okay”.

“Me too. Night, love you”. He replies, hanging up.

Even though you know it's a slip off the tongue, your heart stutters.

________________________________________

You shoot a text to Annie asking if she has a few minutes to chat and she calls you nstantly.

You tell her what happened and apologize for not getting in touch sooner, but you didn’t want to worry her while she’s on vacation until you knew more.

“It’s okay, I understand and appreciate it.” She assures you, talking over the girls who are yelling for her in the background. She lets you go after promising her a coffee date when she’s back.

You let Steve out a last time, get your work stuff ready for the next day, and fall into bed early, utterly exhausted from the stress of the day.

________________________________________

Bob wakes up the next morning stiff and sore, but feeling well rested. As he’s stretching the kinks out, the conversation with Sunny comes rushing back to him. He groans as he remembers telling her about fainting over a needle. He feels like he might be sick when he recalls saying ‘I love you’.

He doesn’t have time to dwell on it though, as Bradley knocks on the door, giving him a 5-minute warning before their debriefing.

________________________________________

You check your phone on your lunch break and you have a single unread text.

Penny: They’ll be back tonight by 6.

________________________________________

A/N: Sorry for the little cliff hanger last night. I think this is the first chapter I’ve written with no smut lol. Any one catch on to what I’m setting up for Bradley?

Taglist:

(I added whoever liked the post about being added to my taglist, lmk if you want off of it)

@blindedbythelightt

@sweetwhispersofchaos

@getmyprettynameoutofyourmouth

@lexixstewart

@phoenix-rising-starbird-one

@mrsrobertfloyd

[dantesunbreaker]

Hey hey hey. I noticed your requests were open and am taking this chance to ask for some Dad Secondo content. I crave soft Secondo and I am currently starved.

A Calming Embrace

Secondo x Reader(Platonic)

Sorry this took so long! Been so busy with planning and preparing for Christmas! But here is a small little piece of supportive Secondo!

An almost buzzing hum vibrates through your mind with a near echo as you try to pull your habit even tighter around your body, praying that it could simply make you disappear. Tears sting your eyes, cheeks flushed and dripping. You feel small. Pitiful. The crushing weight of responsibility weighing heavy down on your consequently not so steady shoulders. 

This was so unlike you..or at least that is what you would like to tell yourself. Normally you were much stronger than this. But times like this were becoming far too regular of an occurrence ever since the start of the latter quarter of the year. Ever since your decision to take on extra studies on top of your already busy schedule in service of the Clergy. 

Sleep has been far from your concerns for many nights, trying instead to cram in as much researching and reading as you could in the quiet solitude of the library. Which is exactly where you find yourself now, tucked away in one of the library reading nooks, wishing that the world could just fall away if even for just a few moments so you could get yourself back together. At least you are alone, without worrying about someone seeing you in the pits. Or at least that is what you think, up until you hear the familiar click of dress shoes walking on the stone tile floor.

Your heart jumps in your chest, but by the time you hear the sound, it is already too late to make an escape or even try to hide your tears. Eyes remaining fixed in place, you try to keep your composure as the bottom of elegant black robes suddenly block out your field of view. No, please anyone but him.

“Piccolo,” you flinch at the timbre of Secondo's voice, focused on his shoes as you nervously wipe away a few more tears. “What are you doing in the library at this hour? Siblings of Sin should be in bed at this time.”

Instead of a verbal response, you are cut off by your own choked hiccup that poorly conceals what could have been a sob. Another crashing wave of embarrassment hits you. Letting out a small whimper, you drop your head and try to curl in upon yourself. How could you let a Papa see you this way? How lowly would Secondo think of you now that he is seeing you at your worst? 

But instead of harsh words or a lecture, you feel a soft touch on your shoulder. Gasping softly, your eyes lift up to meet mismatched ones that are unexpectedly at your level. Secondo rests crouched down to your level, features soft despite the stern look painted onto his face. You think that perhaps this is the first time you have ever seen such genuine concern glimmering through his gaze, and it strikes a chord in your heart that has you trembling as you lean into his touch.

“Tell me, what is troubling you?” There is no malice in his voice, no harsh criticism, or judgment. No, all that you hear is the softness a father would use to speak with his own child. “Are you hurt?”

Sniffling, you furiously wipe your nose with the back of your sleeve as you drop your gaze and shake your head. As more of your weight pushes into the hand at your shoulder, Secondo shifts to allow you to rest against his chest, one arm wrapped securely around the back of your shoulders. It hits you with a wave of safety and warmth. 

“No, I am not hurt Papa,” you finally manage to gather the strength to mumble out, bottom lip still wobbling but your tears finally beginning to dry. You tilt your head up to look him in the eyes once more. “I’ve just been so overwhelmed lately. Trying to squeeze in extra studies on top of all my duties for the Clergy...it has been becoming too much for me. I feel like I barely have time to even think, let alone sleep. I feel weak, like I am a failure, and a let down to the Clergy.”

Secondo gives an understanding hum in response as a hand at the back of your head encourages you to rest your cheek against his collarbone. It soothes you in a way you haven’t felt for a long time. Feeling the support from such an influential figure in your life.

“It can be easy to feel overwhelmed by work,” Secondo keeps his voice soft as he cards his fingers through your hair. Words of comfort haven’t always been his strong suit, but damn if he did not try. “Even as Papa, I sometimes feel the same. Always so much to do but never enough time to finish it all.”

Another sniffle leaves you, but you remain silent otherwise, waiting for Secondo to continue. The hand at your shoulders rubbing firm circles into your tense muscles. 

“But that does not make you weak. It only means that you are human,” Secondo leans you back just enough to catch his eye, making sure you can feel the intensity and truth behind his words. “There is no shame in admitting that things are too much, and in fact, I am incredibly proud of you for being able to share with me.”

Tears once more sting your eyes, but from an overwhelming sense of love and affection, from finally feeling seen. Secondo gives a soft smile before he tucks you back against his chest, giving no complaints even as he feels the tears soaking through his robes. For the longest time, he simply holds you until you are quiet once more. Even then, he stays with you up until you finally shift around, feeling restless from staying in place for so long.

“Come tesorino,” Secondo breaks the silence with a soft voice, yet firm confidence that made it clear there was not much room for argument. He stands first, hands upturned in offerance to help lift you back onto your feet. “Let’s get you back to your quarters for some much needed sleep. I will meet with Sister Imperator in the morning to discuss reassigning some of your duties.”

[itsabouttimex2]

Hi! I dunno if this has been requested already but could we please get a platonic Yandere Azure Lion and MK? I can’t really think of a plot except for maybe Azure taking MK away so he can be “safe”.

Indigo Ephialtes

“Have you never had a nightmare before, cub?”

There’s concern and curiosity in that voice, both in multitudes. Each word drips with worry, paired with a powerful stroking up and down MK’s back.

The teen can’t bring himself to respond, of course. He’s too much too busy wiping away tears and trying to forget about the grim visions that have endlessly plagued his mind for the last month. Every night brings a new twisted scene, one that leaves MK shaking and sweating, fighting back tears while staring at the ceiling and praying for it to collapse across his quivering form.

He never use to have nightmares.

Not unless sickness had settled beneath the skin and plagued him with virulence. It was only when MK had to sit and stew that his brain was allowed to run wild with nauseating thoughts and putrid fears, chilling his skin worse than any cold ever could.

He’d wake up thrashing- throwing punches and picks to shadow-box enemies that existed only in the hazy corners of his worn eyes. And in every ‘fight’, he was to lose. MK would collapse to the floor in short order, sobbing into hands that he had beaten bloody against the headboard of his bed.

Those were the nightmares he grimly dreamt.

Back when Mei was a call away and would spend the whole night talking him back to calmness. When Pigsy would trudge upstairs with a fresh bowl of noodles and a handful of bandages. When Mr. Tang would soothe him back to sleep with an old story.

But his family isn’t here right now, are they?

“-ub. Cub. Cub, are you- MK!”

The teen snaps from his daydreams, ripped from the pleasant and warm thoughts of his family and the tenderness they provided.

“MK, my little cub, I’ve been talking to you for a while now. Were you… simply not listening?”

Disapproval in some small measure, negative ideations blooming in Azure’s ever-delusional mind.

The mere idea that his ‘cub’ might to some small degree reject even a mote of his fatherly love has started a snowball effect before. One little negative thing builds to a crafted tower, then the leonine beast topples it with his own inability to see truth and reason.

And then MK spends the rest of the day ‘grounded’, locked up tight in his room and cut from the few possessions that his unwanted caretaker saw fit to garnish the room with.

“No,” he chokes out, the lie thick and clumsy on his tongue. Azure raises an eyebrow, considering but not quite convinced. So then the boy sees fit to grinds out the one word he’s come to hate more than any other: “Papa.”

That is something that the lion takes at face value, every last time he hears it. Pulling it from MK’s mouth is harder than pulling teeth, so he cherished every moment that those two syllables left the boy’s lips.

“Of course not,” he coos, stroking the teen’s hair. It’s unsettling, how sharply the cyan creature changes his mood. But he’s in a better one now, all for a single word he longs to hear again and again and again. “You’re a good cub, hmm? You would never ignore me simply for the sake of it, would you?”

“No,” the teen lies again.

“You’re a much better cub than that,” the lion agrees, leaning down to nuzzle MK’s cheek, “and you’re too polite and sweet to lie to your papa.”

Already, the miasma of pervading delusion settles deep, reinforcing Azure’s beliefs.

MK is his perfect little cub. He’s the only one who can keep the boy safe.

“Now, cub… let’s talk about your nightmare, hmm?

His friends, face-down in puddles of mud. His family, ripped limb from limb and left to rot. Fertile dirt stained to speckled cinnabar.

“…just saw s-something…”

Messed up is what he wants to say. But the lion responds far better to MK playing along with the ‘helpless child’ act. So he finishes with a delayed “scary” instead, leaving Azure to sympathetically coo and bring the boy into his powerful arms.

MK wants to hate this. So badly, he wishes that the hug was painfully tight, or that Azure’s blue fur was rough to the touch. Any reason to hate it, to hate the comfort and warmth sinking deep into his skin from the cuddle.

But he can’t. There’s not even one thing wrong with it. The lion is well-versed in skinship and closeness, and is especially gentle with those he cherishes.

MK wishes this felt worse. He wants Azure to be awful and monstrous and demonic- it’d be easier to hate him. He wants to hate the Celestial rebel with all the heart he can muster.

But it’s getting harder and harder with each week in captivity. The leonine revolutionary is gentle, is kind, is genuine.

And with nothing he can do to slip free, MK gives himself to tears once more, allowing the throes of agony from his blood-seeped dream to break him down entirely.

After all, he knows that Azure will provide unconditional comfort and protection.

Whether he wants it or not.

(Was super hyped to get this request, ngl!)

[greazyfloz]

Hi! Can I get angst 4 or 13 or both if you can, with Quinn Hughes

I Can't Keep Living Like This

Angst: 4. “What are we?” “I can’t keep living like this” & 13. “You left you can’t just come back”

This one might suck, sorry!!!!!!

What Quinn and I have is confusing. I’m the first person he calls when he gets home from the road, I’m who he calls when he is upset, I go to all his home games and we see each other almost every single day. We because friends quick and it was a joke that we were dating fast. It became confusing when we had too much to drink one night and went home with him. It became a trend and I even started to believe we were dating.

We just got back from bye week. Quinn asked me to go to Michigan with him and of course I said yes. Michigan was fun. We just rested and went out to the bars back home. On the plane back home Quinn brought me in close and I feel asleep in his arms. The older lady beside me over at us while the plane landed to tell us how cute we where and Quinn blushed and shyly said thanks. So obviously I think that he thinks there is something there as well. He drives me home then proceeds with his night.

Later that night I’m scrolling through Instagram to see Quinn posted. He posted 4 photos in his post two of which look familiar. I did a double take swiping through to realize they are familiar because I was cut out. Out of all the pictures we took he chose the ones he could cut me out of. It does sting a little but I have to keep reminding myself that we aren’t technically together. 

The next night Quinn makes his way over after his practice and we are lying on the couch. He brings me in to kiss my lips before getting up and walking to the bathroom. His phone buzzes beside me and the screen lights up. I can’t help but look to see “Emma” light up on his phone. I quickly pull out my phone and check his following for an Emma. He follows 3. I click each and look through their photos but was interrupted by Quinn walking back into the room. 

He sits back on the couch and wraps me in his arms again. “What are we?” I ask slightly pushing myself away from him to look him in the eyes.

“We are um- friends?” Quinn says like he is unsure.

“Quinn, I want to be more” Quinn’s eyebrows tense and he rubs his forehead

“We are just having fun Y/n, I didn’t think there was strings attached” he replies. I get up as I feel myself tear up a little, “What?”. 

“Quinn, you bring me home from the bar all the time. I’ve become closer to you then anyone ever before. And for God sake you brought me back to Michigan. I thought you would have looked at me slightly the same”

“Where is all this coming from?” Quinn asks

“Quinn I fell in love with you but I can’t keep living like this” I just stare at him, “Can you say something?” I say, attitude rips from my tone

“What exactly do you want me to say? You just sprung this shit up on me” Quinn starts to raise his voice

“Quinn I can’t just be your friend” I say tears fogging my vision

“I- I- I gotta go” he says storming out

I haven’t heard anything from Quinn since that night. And I didn’t reach out either. The whole situation was weird but one thing I almost felt certain about was that I was never going to see Quinn ever again. 

I was wrong though. It is around 1am when I hear someone knock on my door. Living alone, I didn’t answer and pray they went away. I curled back in bed and pulled my phone out to call the front desk when I get a call from Quinn. I answer but regret it before saying “Hello?”

“Open the door” I don’t answer because of shock, “Please”. I hang the phone up and walk to the door opening it. I see Quinn sitting across the hall with his back against the wall. 

“You left, you can’t just come back” I say watching him struggle to get up, “Have you been drinking?” I ask

“Doesn’t matter, because I love you” Quinn slurs

“No you don’t Quinn. Your already told me, friend” I say back starting to close the door.

“Wait!” says but I shut the door. I turn my back leaning it against it then sliding down letting myself cry. After a while I make my way over to the couch where I fall asleep.

I wake up in the morning and get changed to go get coffee, but when I open the door to my apartment I see Quinn in the same clothes as last night sitting on the floor sleeping. I bend down nudging him a bit waking him up. He wakes up and looks up at me. “Come in” I say standing back up and opening the door.

Quinn follows and I pull out a glass and fill it with water before handing it to him. “I meant what I said” Quinn says taking the glass of water from my hands, “I do love you”.

“Then why did you let me leave” I question

“Because I was scared” he starts, “We were having fun and I didn’t want it to end if I put a label on it”

“That doesn’t explain cutting me out of pictures and putting it on Instagram so all the other girls you are talking to wont see” I snap

“I’m sorry, I just- you don’t post with me and I didn’t know what we were either” Quinn starts to ramble, and I start to feel bad. I place a hand on his shoulder and he stops. “Just let me love you” I try to hide a smile but it slips. 

“Okay” I say softly wrapping him in for a long passionate hug.

[timaeusterrored]

(Like Father Like Son)

((I feel like I’ve never actually written a father-son moment between Vax and Vik, and what better time than now? Set sometime after he starts healing from the Space Station))

Vax had always loved rooftops, ever since he was a kid. Whenever he sat up there, for once he didn’t feel so small. That maybe being up there could save him from the city trying to swallow him. Even as a kid, V was terrified of the city eating him whole, becoming a no one. Another face in a sea of nobodies.

“Y’know, I’ll never forget the first time I looked up and saw you sitting on a roof. Damn near climbed the building to get you down.”

Vax turned at the sudden voice, not expecting anyone up here. But there stood Vik, arms crossed and leaned again the door way.

“Don’t you have your own roof to go sit on or somethin’? Or did the ol’ Rockerboy finally chase you away?” Vik sat down next to V, their legs dangling over the edge. Vax noted Vik was making an effort to not look down. Not everyone could handle heights.

“Nah, he’s busy with the ‘Saka bullshit still… and his new album.” Vax tried to keep the sad tone out of his voice, but he was struggling to. And he knew Vik heard it.

“Trouble in paradise? He fuck up?”

“He’s been perfect, Vik… it ain’t that.” Vax sighed, rubbing his eyes. “I’m so fuckin’ tired… and lonely. Ker invites me to join him when he goes places… but he doesn’t need me. No one fuckin’ does. No one needs V anymore…”

Vik let that settle in, watching his son for a long moment. Was that what this was? He felt unneeded? Unwanted even?

“You’re right. I don’t need V.” Maybe that was a bad way to start because Vax chuckled like he knew something. “I need Vax. I need that spunky little fifteen year old smart ass I met damn near 15 years ago.” Holy fuck it had been 15 years already.

Vax was staring at him, as if confused by his statement. He never had been a man of words.

“Y’know… when I first brought you in, I was thinking ‘what the fuck am I doing? I can’t raise a kid. Much less a 15 year old.’ And with you glaring at me for like a month straight, I really didn’t think we were getting far. But Vax… you changed my life. When you won your first boxing match, I just yelled ‘That’s my kid! That’s my kid right there!’ I was so fucking proud of you… then that fucker took you when you were 17 and I didn’t know what the fuck to do. All I knew was that my kid was gone and no one had seen him in days… then Rogue comes to my door holding you, you’re shaking and covered in blood and smell like a fucking campfire and I don’t think I’ve ever been more relieved to see you in my life… until Arasaka took you. Losing Jackie felt like losing a son… and I kept just… hoping, praying, I dunno, everything to just get that thing out of you. For you to live.”

When Vik was mostly done because he felt he was talking nonsense, he looked at V… to find him with tears in his eyes. Oh fuck, he hadn’t meant to make him cry.

“And when you brought fucking Kerry Eurodyne home, I was like “oh hell no.” Because I’ve read some shit-“ Vik attempted to joke but Vax let out a sound that he couldn’t tell if the poor man was laughing or crying.

Vik patted his son’s back, letting him get it out. Kerry said Vax had been rather unresponsive to things, and this is probably the first time he’s cried in a while. The ripperdoc couldn’t even begin to understand what this man went through.

“Fuck… I’m sorry.” Vax sniffed, rubbing his eyes. “I’m so… I’m so tired, Vik… I know people are trying to give me space and to let me rest… but I can’t help but feel like everyone has moved on from me… even Ker and Judy don’t feel like they need me anymore… and you and Mama Welles got your own shit goin’ on-“

“Me and Guadalupe have been worried sick about you. So don’t you start pulling that shit onto me… No one has moved on from you. You spend too much time in your own head, you always have.” Vik sighed. Vax had been horrible for getting in his own head, Vik never could get him to stop. “You been talking to your therapist? And taking your meds?”

Vax nodded, and yet Vik didn’t believe him.

“My keeper isn’t letting me forget. Don’t worry.” Vax mumbled, his hands falling into his lap in defeat. Vik had no clue what to do to make this better… he didn’t read any parenting books on how to make your adult kid feel better after dying three times.

The two sat in silence after, sometimes you just needed quiet with a safe person to feel less alone. Until Vax rested his head on Vik’s shoulder.

“Thanks pops…”

Vik wrapped his arm around his son and rubbed his shoulder.

“Anytime kiddo…”

[lipglossanon]

i’m sorry i was gone for so long i thought my episode was better but life my depression fucked me in the ass with a cactus and no lube lmao but someone asked about priest leon and it triggered my writing urges again, i can’t promise consistency but i can promise he will fill you with something more than the holy spirit, i can’t tell you about the second coming cumming of christ but i can tell you about the third and fourth, he’s probably so happy being cooped up in the woods with no one else and i can really see him just having the unholiest vhs porn collection from like the 70s to 80s and a tiny ass tv that works in like one corner of the chapel and god does it echo so just imagine him being so unruffled by someone accidentally interrupting his self care and it’s the prettiest woman he’s ever seen the only woman he’s seen in months and he’s so eager to help you he just ~accidentally~ makes your car troubles worse and just ~accidentally~ has only one bed available and oops guess we have to share 🤭 he’s so touch starved and giving dark stepdaddy leon energy just noncon all the way, you wake up with him in you while being choked by the rosary he always keeps on and he’s just praying over your fucked out limp body and starts murmuring while kissing away your tears because he’s too big but he accidentally totally not on purpose slips it in the wrong hole and tears you causing you to bite down on his hand he shoves in your mouth while you scream but he doesn’t stop despite how tight your asshole is he just uses your blood as lube to make it less friction-y for him and he says he can’t get someone out to help with your car so you’re stuck with him for weeks and he’s does shit like hide your clothes so you’re either naked or in his clothes ugh 😩 i could ramble for ages about older priest leon 🤭

- 💀

(real dad leon has had me in a chokehold, pun intended, since my depressive episode started like imagine your parents got divorced and you’re spending the summer with your dad who’s getting paid leave because claire can’t believe he actually wants to spend time with his family totally not why readers mom divorced him and he sees you in bikini for the first time to just absolutely loose his shit and spend the entire time in the kitchen because the sliding glass door is the closest he can get to you without wanting to rail you and you notice your bikini goes missing before you do your laundry and he catches you snooping through his room to try and find it so he has to punish you 🫣 idk how rough he would be but i feel like i’ve sent enough asks in for the idea of what i would want to be there jsit insyert anything dark stepdaddy leon would do lol, i’ve also read your more recent fics and they’re so good!!!!! i love stepbro leon i would love to see more mean older stepbro leon who just bullies reader even in front of their parents and doesn’t even hide his arousal when he makes you cry like him pulling really sexual jokes and pranks on you to humiliate you because he can tell you like him 👀)

💀 anon!!!!!!! 🤩 🤩 welcome back!!! 💜

It has been many moons since you’ve been here!! I’m sorry that depression is getting to you, sending you lots of hugs!!! 🫂

Will put a cut as this reply gets long AF 🤣

AHSJGL 🫣 not him getting caught watching some cheesy porno 🤭 ugh just waking up with him already buried in your pussy is making my head 🥴 like maybe you were a little flirty with him after you saw him in such compromising way (and he’s not bad on the eyes 😜)

But it’s still unexpected when you wake up to feeling uncomfortably full, pussy stretched out and pulsing around his cock as he ruts into you slowly 😵‍💫 and he’s just telling you how well you’re taking it, how hot and wet you are, how much he needed this soft pussy wrapped around his dick 🥴

Painal (I think that’s what that is right? Ugh I probably should google it but I don’t wanna see the results 🤣) is 50/50 for me 🫣 it’s hot but at the same time I’m like drawing my body inward cause ouchie 😆 but him not caring and just needing to use a hole to cum? 🥵 yes please 🫣

AGSJVL not dad Leon getting mad when reader correctly guesses he took her bikini 🤭 ugh I love mean Leon so much so I’m kinda with you on that 😉 loves to spank her if she gets out of line; like makes her take her panties off so he can spank her bare ass 🥴 doesn’t matter that you’re too old for it; he’s still your dad and it’s his house

Mean stepbro!! I’ve made him softer as I keep writing him 😅 he can’t help it, he just loves reader now 😝

But yes, he’s the kind of bully who definitely puts his hand down on the couch cushion before you sit so he’s groping your ass/pussy before you jump up. Laughs it off to your parents in the room saying it was a joke. Pinches your nipples as he passes by you, playing it off as trying to pinch your side 🫣

[peterman-spideyparker]

All About Timing (Matt Murdock x Reader)

Author’s Note: So many ideas, so little time. I literally wrote this in thirty minutes on my phone after scrolling through this hell site and seeing this gif again and it looks like he’s in front of a church (I know I still need to watch Kin I’m working on it) and I’m also definitely not tinkering with a role reversal sorta similar idea yes I am I’m a dirty rotten liar. I promise I’m working on Steven/Marc/Jake fics. There’s just a circus on fire in my head right now. Okay, enjoy! :)

Summary: Remaining friends with Matt after a breakup was fine—you care for him and know you need him in your life. But Matt unloads a bombshell on you minutes before you walk down the aisle.

Warnings: Angst, fluff, love confessions, guilt/heartache, Catholic guilt?

Other Characters: Father Lantom

Word Count: 1,314

“I know it’s bad timing,” Matt starts as he stands in front of the door.

“Bad timing?” you repeat. “I’m getting married in ten minutes, Matt.”

“I know,” he says, his voice terribly quiet. “I’m sorry.”

“Matt, whatever you’re gonna say, please don’t,” your voice wavering ever so slightly.

“I love you, (Y/N).”

You close your eyes and sigh, praying that you keep calm though this. “Matt—.”

“I know I don’t have any right to be telling you this now. It’s selfish of me.” Even though he keeps it silent silent, you know him well enough to distinguish the pattern of his shaking breath as he tries to keep himself composed. “But you should know everything before you make this commitment. I have never stopped loving you. I thought pushing you away would keep you safe, and it has. I’ve only ever wanted you to be happy. But at the same time, watching you fall in love with someone else—(Y/N), you needed to know. You’ve only ever asked me to be honest with you.”

Matt dips his head, letting the weight of his words hang in the air before he starts to turn.

“No!“ you shout in a fury, halting his movements. “No, Matthew. You can’t just come in here, say those things, and walk away!”

“(Y/N)—.”

“What did you think was going to happen after telling me this? I would rush into you arms, call everything off, and we start again?”

You watch as a tear rolls down his cheek from behind his glasses. You don’t need super senses to know the guilt he feels about dropping this all on you now.

“You deserved to know,” he says softly.

“No, I didn’t. And you don’t get to decide that for me. Get out, Matt,” you say, your voice cold and calculated—a tone you have never taken with him. “Go.”

Matt’s expressive face contorts into pure pain as he uses all of his strength to keep his bottom lip from trembling and breaking down then and there, turning like a wounded animal as your words lay thick in the air.

“If you didn’t feel the same way about Matthew, you wouldn’t still be thinking about his words,” Father Lantom says as he sits in the pew next to you.

“I don’t need the lecture right now, Father,” you say weakly, your voice thick with tears. “I’ve already been yelled at by my fian—ex-fiancé and his family, I know my parents aren’t thrilled with me, and I yelled at one of the people I’m—was closest with. So whatever you’re going to say right now, respectfully, I don’t want to hear it.”

You watch Father Lantom nod in your peripheral vision.

“Is there anything you want to talk about, then?” he tries.

You shake your head. “No. I made my decision, and now I have to deal with the consequences. Still a little time for self-loathing, though, first.”

Quietly, Father Lantom gets up from his spot next to you, smoothing his robes. “Just know that your relationship isn’t severed. It’s only strained.”

As you listen to Father Lantom’s footsteps grown more faint up the aisle, you reach for your phone, your fingers hovering over Matt’s contact information. After a solid ten minutes, you quickly tap the phone icon, fearing you’ll lose your courage otherwise. You’re not surprised when you get his voicemail, but you can’t help but worry slightly.

“Hi Matt,” you start. “I don’t blame you for not picking up—I wouldn’t pick up the phone for me, either. I just want to apologize for how I said what I said. I was upset and my mind was racing, and . . . I understand if you don’t speak to me again—.” You move the phone away from your ear to try and collect yourself so you don’t leave a message of you just weeping. You’re still so frustrated—at yourself, at Matt, at Father Lantom for being right—you can’t finish the message. “—I’m sorry, Matt.“ You press the little red end button and bury your face in your hands, starting to weep once more in the quiet church.

“Tissue?” you hear someone ask. You’re so absorbed in your tears, you almost didn’t hear them. Looking up through blurry eyes, you can make out Matt’s familiar frame. Taking in his slumped posture and how quickly he has a tissue ready, it registers that his voice is hoarse, scratchy from tears of his own. You take the tissue from his fingers without a word, wiping the tears from your eyes before moving it to your running nose.

“I wasn’t expecting you to be here, still,” Matt continues. “I was hoping to find Father Lantom.”

“He went . . . somewhere,” you sniffle, playing with the tissue in your hands. “I’m just basking in the carnage.”

“Can I?” he asks softly.

“Yeah,” you breathe, scooching over, even though you don’t need to.

“I’m sorry I ruined your wedding,” Matt says after a pregnant pause. “I was being selfish.”

“You didn’t ruin it, Matt,” you say. “It took two people to make this wedding go down in flames, and you’re taking to the guiltier one right now.”

“I’m not trying to excuse or justify anything, but I should have told you earlier,” Matt says quietly. “I’m sorry for waiting until the worst possible moment. I just never wanted to be dishonest with you, especially after what we went through after you found out about what else I do.”

“To be fair, the worst possible moment would have been during the ceremony,” you say. While misery loves company, it also really loves when Matt has a small smile tug at the corners of his mouth.

“I’m sorry that your fiancé and his family got so mad at you.”

“I’m not surprised that you heard that,” you admit. “But to be fair, they probably heard it all the way in Norway, so.”

That gets a small, breathy chuckle out of him, and you can feel your heart skip a beat as the sound rings like music in your ears.

“I ruined us, did I?” you ask softly, the question having pounded away at your chest since the moment you told Matt to leave, the guilt of hurting your friend like that becoming all too much. Those words you said to him have been running through your mind on loop, making you sick to your stomach since you uttered them.

Matt wraps you in his arms just before an ugly, wet sob can blubber from your lips. He holds onto you tight and lets you bury your face in his neck, his large hand holding onto the back of your head.

“No,” he breathes as you weep into his suit. “No, angel, never. You were mad and had every right to be.”

You sigh and pull back from him. “Matt, it’s more than that,” you tell him. “I love you so much, I literally don’t know what to do with it. It’s so confusing. I just know that I don’t want to be without you. And I only really, truly realized that after I snapped and thought I lost you forever.”

Matt rests his forehead on yours, rubbing his hands up and down your arms to soothe you.

“I don’t know where we go from here,” you whisper.

“We try again,” he says carefully. “We try again, and we make it work. Because next time you’re in a dress like this, I want to be the one waiting for you to tell you how much I love you in front of God and in front of everyone.”

Matt wraps you in a hug once more, and for this first time all day, your heart finally feels at ease—and you know Matt’s does, too.

Permanent Taglist: @majesticavenger​​​​​​​​​ @steampowerednightvaler​​​​​​​​​​ @themusingsofmany​​​​​​​​​​ @just-the-hiddles​​​​​​​​​​ @toozmanykids​​​​​​​ @dangertoozmanykids101​​​​​​ @clints-worldavengers @theburningbookshop​ @itwasthereaminuteago​ @peter1ismybrother​

[snowbellewells]

Birthday Fic Update: “One More” (part three)

Okay, I realize that it isn’t morning anymore (as I promised @kmomof4 Sorry Krystal!) But it is still Monday, and I’ve kept you waiting less the a week after the painful update. This one won’t fix everything, but you’ll have a better sense of what’s going on, and hopefully things will look less bleak. Also, this update marks the halfway point in the story - so there’s a bit of a hinge point with this one - the first half is from Emma’s point-of-view as usuall, and the second part shows us what’s been going on with Killian.

I hope you’ll enjoy (and perhaps feel less likely to keep out your pitchforks) after this one!

Still a Birthday Fic for @searchingwardrobes -- who I hope will trust me just a little longer, despite the momentary pain.

Also available on AO3, if that’s your preference, or from the start here on Tumblr

Summary: Through the years, Emma keeps waiting - one more placement, one more year, one more separation - until she can find where and with whom she truly belongs. It turns out the person to show her has been right beside her all the time...

by: @snowbellewells

iii. nineteen years old (two years later)

“Just one more good push, Emma!” the nurse at her elbow cajoled, urging her on intently, knowing the young woman was almost out of strength, at the very dregs of her reserves. “You can do it, I know you can.  …Ready? Push!”

Gritting her teeth on a last effort to free the little one inside her, whom she had clung to the hope of meeting, despite the heartache and worry that had hung over her as he grew. She couldn’t fail him now. They would both need every ounce of her resolve to face the world, just the two of them.

Shakily, Emma attempted to give Nurse Green a tremulous smile, though barely able to hold her head upright through her exhaustion. “Just one more, huh?” she huffed, her breath ragged as she exhaled and tried to draw in another. “I think the little guy has other plans, Tink.”

Tina Green, known to many of her patients and co-workers at the small women’s clinic in Seattle where she worked and where she had met Emma as ‘Tink’ for her petite, blonde, pixie-ish looks and chipper manner, merely shook her head. “Whatever it takes to keep you fighting to see him,” she countered stoutly.

The doctor broke into their back and forth from the foot of the bed - matter of fact and as though he had heard none of the women’s conversation that had come before. “Alright, Ms. Swan. The baby’s head is crowning. Now is the time for that final effort. You’re about to meet your son.”

Emma didn’t know that she had more to give; she had been laboring so long now that drawing breath and retaining awareness seemed almost too steep a battle. All the same, she bore down again, praying this truly would be the last push, that her little boy would finally join them. She could only hope she didn’t break Tink’s hand as she clutched it for some minor amount of support.

Over the last several months, there had been so many times; moments when she tossed and turned unable to sleep, when she tried to read maternity books to prepare and only felt inadequate and overwhelmed, or when she stood in the corner market near tears over boxes of cereal, wondering how she would ever keep her child fed and clothed with her meager sole income, when she had almost admitted defeat. She’d considered giving her precious little one up for adoption; thinking even as her heart bled at the idea that he would have to be better off with a family who couldn’t have a child of their own than with her - not even out of her teens, who’d never had a mother herself and could barely keep a roof over her own head. But then Emma remembered her own experience in the system, always alone and never wanted. What if her baby wasn’t adopted either? She simply couldn’t leave him to the same sort of childhood she’d lived through. 

Emma kept herself fighting because, in getting to this point, she and her child were already survivors. They would find a way, because they would have each other. Drawing in a ragged breath and forcing herself to exhale it slowly, Emma refocused on the goal before she was urged to push yet again. If nothing else, she would give her child what she’d only had for a short, golden period in her life - someone to love him unconditionally… a family.

The contracting pain inside her swelled yet again, feeling as if it might tear her apart. ‘One more, one more, one more…” she repeated to herself, almost a mantra that matched her heartbeat, urging her to carry on.

The pressure crested to almost unbearable proportions, and Emma couldn’t hold back the cry torn from her thoat as she gritted her teeth and strained to finally see her baby enter the world, to finally hold him in her arms. 

“There you are, I see the shoulders,” the doctor reported, guiding the newborn on his way. “You’ve got this, Ms. Swan.”

Falling back on her pillow, winded and drained like a deflated balloon, Emma tried to catch her breath, even as she listened intently for the first cries of her little boy, the announcement that he had arrived alive and well.

“Did you hear that, Emma?” Tink’s voice chirped happily at her side, brushing the mussed, sweaty strands of her hair off her forehead and offering her a gentle, encouraging smile. “He’s here! Your little guy’s finally here! You did it!”

“I did, didn’t I?” Emma slurred blearily, her eyelids hovering exhausted at half mast but determined to see the bundle who had caused such worry and excitement before she could fully relax. “Can I hold him yet?”

As if knowing his mother’s voice and prompted to answer it, just then a high, thin wail rang out in the delivery room, the reedy cry of a babe cold and scared outside of the cozy home he had known in his mother’s womb. The plaintive sound reached out as distinctly as an outstretched hand to squeeze her heart. Emma struggled to sit forward, straining to see and comfort her little one in his distress.

Only moments later, Tink moved toward her cradling a white-blanket-swaddled bundle passed on from the doctor as he had finished washing the newborn and clearing his airway. “Here he is, Emma,” she crooned, leaning over to carefully hand the baby off to his eager mother. “He just wanted to see his mama,” she added sweetly. The little boy’s cries lessened the moment he was nestled in Emma’s arms, and the angry red of his tiny wrinkled face lightened as he calmed.

Predictable as it might have been, Emma felt tears welling in her eyes, pooling and streaming down her cheeks. Her joy at holding him in her arms after nine months of waiting - her son, her flesh and blood - overwhelmed and spilled from her in an unchecked torrent. His little upturned nose, chubby cheeks, thin tufts of damp, curling bown hair were already cherished, even as they blurred before her eyes.

Naively, she had feared that he would remind her of the man who’d fathered him; someone she’d met not long after landing in Seattle a year ago, roving blindly in a lost and broken haze, barely remembered beyond messy brown hair, teasing cocoa-colored eyes, and a handful of rushed, less-than-incredible couplings in the back of the stolen car he’d left her with. She fallen in with the older guy almost solely because he’d shown an interest, she’d been running scared, almost starved and out of money to rent a motel room another night, and simply tired - tired of having to figure it all out on her own. When she’d wakened to find him gone about a month after they’d met and thrown their lots in together, she hadn’t even been surprised. She probably should have been hurt, but after Killian’s loss, Neal’s desertion was more like the prick of a thorn than a lasting wound. The positive pregnancy test stolen and then used in the Target bathroom had been the shock that had almost felled her.

Instead, gazing down at her little boy’s placid face, relaxed and nearly dozing once held again in his mother’s soothing warmth, Emma could only see his beautiful sweet innocence. She would give her own life - mere minutes after meeting him - to see that preserved. He should always be able to have the sort of hope she had lost long ago.

Unable to look away, afraid to even blink for fear he might vanish, Emma loved her baby on sight, as if she had never even understood love before. This was one thing at last she knew she had gotten right.

“Henry,” she breathed out softly against his baby soft skin. “Mama’s here… I love you so much, okay? No matter what.” And she vowed then and there, whatever came, Henry Swan - her Henry - would always have his best chance.

%%%%%%%%%%%%%%

eighteen years old  (not quite three years ago)

When Killian Jones first woke in a base camp mobile hospital overseas, he couldn’t remember where he was or what had happened to him. As he tried to regain his bearings, glancing around and intently tamping down the beginning flickers of panic and that blank canvas within his mind, he knew who he was, but who might be missing him, and why he might be lying there injured in the strange bed beneath him were completely beyond his capability to recall.

Thankfully, as he remained conscious, and doctors and nurses came to check on him and report on his condition and what was being done for him, more of Killian’s awareness and memory came trickling back. He had enlisted in the Navy and reported for basic training. He was had hoped to do his duty, to travel, find his purpose, and also pay for his chance to pursue college study for a career that truly inspired him. He’d been thinking of those possibilities, along with the more mundane pleasure of cuddling with some clearly familiar and comforting blonde beauty in some off-campus coffeeshop, humming along softly to some unknown singer, ignoring his school work and hearing of her day, even as he had been going about the tasks of a routine patrol in what were supposed to be friendly waters, when something had gone wrong. He’d been gladly thinking of making his older brother proud and the happy future stretched out before him when their vessel had been struck.

His brother! An alarm blared in his mind suddenly. Liam! How could he have forgotten?! He’d already wasted so much time! He shook his head in agitated frustration as his realizations multiplied. Bloody hell! Would they have already told his brother he was missing? Or dead?

Quickly flagging down the first orderly who passed, Killian urgently attempted to make the person understand just how desperately, how immediately, his message needed to be sent. He needed to find out if he had already been listed as missing, if his brother had already been notified, and if - 

Emma! This second remembrance was like a bolt of lightning slashing right through the center of his being. How could he have forgotten the most important name he had ever known? She was the beautiful girl beside him in his fantasies of quiet afternoons in a peaceful college town; the smile and sparkling green eyes looking back at him in his dreams. They had been nearly inseparable from the moment they’d met, so how was it possible her memory had not been the first to return to him?

Killian’s stomach fell away, gut clenching in fear and regret at how bravely Emma had tried to seem happy for him when he’d told her of his enlistment. How he had promised her he’d be back at her side before she could even miss him. Tears swam unbidden in his eyes, knowing how it would have devastated her to hear he was lost. Of course, Liam would have tried to tell her gently, but she would have assumed the worst. Life had given Emma Swan little reason to do otherwise in her first seventeen years. And he would, for all that she knew, be just one more person to desert her and leave her behind.

Mercifully, once Killian calmed himself enough to make the situation understood, and to speak with the right higher-ups to ascertain what had been reported and how he should proceed, it didn’t take long for them to help him contact Liam stateside. The relief and joy in his brother’s voice, at what seemed no less than a miracle to the elder Jones brother, was a balm to Killian’s fraught and anxious soul.

But when Liam balked at taking the call next door, not letting Killian speak to Emma, his insides turned to ice. Haltingly, in a voice full of pained regret - both for Killian’s hurt, and as one who had loved the neighbor girl as an older sibling himself - Liam managed to explain that they had no way to tell Emma of Killian’s return. The moment she had turned 18 and was free of the foster system, Emma had vanished. As if she hadn’t been able to look at Killian’s house next door without him there, Emma had fled; no one had seen or heard from her since.  She was just… gone.

Tagging:  @jennjenn615 @searchingwardrobes @kmomof4 @whimsicallyenchantedrose @laschatzi @jrob64 @apiratewhopines @cosette141 @stahlop @xarandomdreamx @sotangledupinit @teamhook @revanmeetra87 @tiganasummertree @optomisticgirl @nachocheese-itsmycheese @spartanguard @therooksshiningknight @xsajx @lfh1226-linda @winterbaby89 @elizabeethan @the-darkdragonfly @donteattheappleshook @motherkatereloyshipper @booksteaandtoomuchtv @thislassishooked @blackwidownat2814 @gingerchangeling @gingerpolyglot @scientificapricot @tomeandflickcorner @ineffablecolors @drowned-dreamer @let-it-raines @justanother-unluckysoul​ @wefoundloveunderthelight​ @hollyethecurious​ @bdevereaux​ @zaharadessert​ @kday426​ @darkcolinodonorgasm​ @artistic-writer​ 

[albertbutyoucancallmebert]

@stuckinuniformdevelopment

(prev) Teddy allowed himself to decompress as Bert’s gentle pats and soft words brought him back from the verge of tears. Nothing had changed. Yet he allowed himself to enjoy the illusion of safety for a moment. “This helps,” It still bothered him how Bert’s comfort came at the cost of distressing him but… What could he do? He knew for a fact that he hated being kept in the dark more. Answering his questions— including those which remained unasked— was the least he could do. He shook his head as he answered the easiest of all with, “Probably not.” It took a bit for Teddy to compile his thoughts. Eventually he hesitantly said, “…There’s this one Glornist named Thomas I’ve been worried about. He’s just too…” Teddy paused to sigh. “…Nice. Nice enough that there was only one reason to keep him alive…” Then he kept his eye shut as he rested his head against his good arm. “Somehow I was still arrogant enough to think that I could save him… Except I put it off because its hard to approach a guy you usually avoid to go,” He scowled and swapped to a sarcastic tone as he grew more agitated. “Hello! If you don’t either dirty up your act or fake your death you’ll be ritually murdered! Here’s how I, known natural shady creep, can help!” Teddy glowered at a stray beaker left on the desk. “So I tried to earn his trust first, but that..,” He sighed as he closed his eye. “…only made it worse…” The air became dead as he recalled how even Thomas, one of the most naïve people he knew, couldn’t believe that he had good intentions. “Eventually I just cut to the chase and it, well…” His voice quickened and he started to idly rub his finger against the counter. “I heard him pray to Grop after I made him cry so I tried to give him contact info for them and urged him to leave but then he showed up Slornday anyways and I didn’t know that Sam and Cyrus were already investigating him for being a Gropist and for a bit I thought they heard everything and Sam was gonna accuse me of being one too and-” Teddy was forced to stop working himself into a panic just long enough to take a breath and pressed his fist against his forehead to ward off an oncoming headache. “It was just Thomas but I still had to use my backup plan before our meeting came out under torture and they sacrificed me too so I told everyone that I was working with them and claimed that I was trying to set him up so he’d find other Gropists on the ship but I told him about Eve because I found out she became a Gropist after what happened to Dawn when I was in the medbay and I may have sealed her fate too and-” Another sharp inhale. “But I didn’t know that Sam was trying to frame Thomas as an infiltrator taking down the Glornch becausethat'slikewanderbeingaslysndcraftygenius so they got mad that they couldn’t use the dramatic presentation they prepared but… I think Thomas bolted before they could start because… he thought I was the evil… mastermind anyways and-” That was as far as he got before he lost the wind for a long-winded rant. While he was recovering he searched the room as well as he could without lifting his heavy head. Where was Sherri Jr? Because he could really use the big lug right about now…

Bert patiently listened to what Teddy had to say without a moment of interruption. He followed along at first, nodding his head. Alright, so there’s a Glornist named Thomas who Teddy deemed worth saving. But trying to talk to him didn’t go so well. Okay.

Bert frowned when Teddy mocked himself, but kept quiet in favor of letting him express his thoughts however he saw fit. But when Teddy’s pace quickened as he started to get more and more panicked, that’s when Bert started to lose track a bit. Sam? Cyrus? Eve? Dawn? Gropism? ...Wander? There were a lot of things being said in rapid succession that Bert was struggling to parse in his head.

At the end of it, Bert gathered that ultimately Teddy was probably in cahoots with the Sam character over the Thomas character. 

“I see,” Bert softly said despite his struggle to fully understand. He gave Teddy’s head a few more pats. He jumped down from his seat and made his way over to a refrigerator while Teddy caught his breath. 

While Bert was gone, something hit Teddy’s helmet with a light thunk and bounced off, clattering to a stop on the table in front of him. It was a cashew… 

Bert returned with a water bottle. He cracked the cap open and slid it over to Teddy.

[stuckinuniformdevelopment]

@albertbutyoucancallmebert

(Previous) Bert came down from his panic as he learned that, no, Teddy did not just escape a blood sacrifice in a demonic ritual. Still, it pained Bert more than anything to see how beaten down, weary, and scared his dearest friend was. And he was sick of seeing him like this. He sorted out the details in his mind to make the situation clearer for himself. So Teddy is basically their new tailor, he’s making that scumbag’s mitre since Commander Peepers shot it off his head, and once he finishes it, then there’s going to be a big ritual. Okay. That didn’t exactly explain his arm, but Bert could guess that he got thoroughly beaten up. By who and what for? Bert shoved a pile of wires resting on a stool onto the floor and brought it over to Teddy to sit next to him. He desperately wanted to provide comfort, but wasn’t sure how. He thought about maybe following Teddy’s example of physical comfort, the way he gave really nice hugs, but… With how injured he was, hugging him wasn’t a good idea. Plus he was trying to not be overly intimate with him… So Bert awkwardly but gently patted him on the head, and spoke softly. “I’m really sorry it’s been so rough… I wish I could do more to help but it feels like even the slightest move that comes from me would only rock the boat.” Bert leaned his head into his hand. “May I ask who did this? Anyone I know…?”

Teddy allowed himself to decompress as Bert’s gentle pats and soft words brought him back from the verge of tears. Nothing had changed. Yet he allowed himself to enjoy the illusion of safety for a moment.

“This helps,” It still bothered him how Bert’s comfort came at the cost of distressing him but... What could he do? He knew for a fact that he hated being kept in the dark more.

Answering his questions— including those which remained unasked— was the least he could do. He shook his head as he answered the easiest of all with, “Probably not.”

It took a bit for Teddy to compile his thoughts. Eventually he hesitantly said, “...There’s this one Glornist named Thomas I’ve been worried about. He’s just too...”

Teddy paused to sigh. “...Nice. Nice enough that there was only one reason to keep him alive...” Then he kept his eye shut as he rested his head against his good arm.

“Somehow I was still arrogant enough to think that I could save him... Except I put it off because its hard to approach a guy you usually avoid to go,” He scowled and swapped to a sarcastic tone as he grew more agitated.

“Hello! If you don’t either dirty up your act or fake your death you’ll be ritually murdered! Here’s how I, known natural shady creep, can help!”

Teddy glowered at a stray beaker left on the desk. “So I tried to earn his trust first, but that..,” He sighed as he closed his eye. “...only made it worse...”

The air became dead as he recalled how even Thomas, one of the most naïve people he knew, couldn't believe that he had good intentions. “Eventually I just cut to the chase and it, well...” His voice quickened and he started to idly rub his finger against the counter.

“I heard him pray to Grop after I made him cry so I tried to give him contact info for them and urged him to leave but then he showed up Slornday anyways and I didn’t know that Sam and Cyrus were already investigating him for being a Gropist and for a bit I thought they heard everything and Sam was gonna accuse me of being one too and-”

Teddy was forced to stop working himself into a panic just long enough to take a breath and pressed his fist against his forehead to ward off an oncoming headache. “It was just Thomas but I still had to use my backup plan before our meeting came out under torture and they sacrificed me too so I told everyone that I was working with them and claimed that I was trying to set him up so he’d find other Gropists on the ship but I told him about Eve because I found out she became a Gropist after what happened to Dawn when I was in the medbay and I may have sealed her fate too and-”

Another sharp inhale. “But I didn't know that Sam was trying to frame Thomas as an infiltrator taking down the Glornch becausethat'slikewanderbeingaslysndcraftygenius so they got mad that they couldn't use the dramatic presentation they prepared but... I think Thomas bolted before they could start because... he thought I was the evil... mastermind anyways and-”

That was as far as he got before he lost the wind for a long-winded rant. While he was recovering he searched the room as well as he could without lifting his heavy head.

Where was Sherri Jr? Because he could really use the big lug right about now...

[lovewithasideoffries]

Memories

summary: After a day of searching for her boyfriend, Y/n admits defeat and heads to Hawkins school gym in a last ditch effort of finding him. Unfortunately, she's met with Dustin and his bad news.

pairing: eddie x fem!reader

warnings: swearing again i think, not proofread, jasons an ass but whats new, also stranger things S4 V2 spoilers

word count: 1035

based on this ask!

“Has anyone seen Eddie? Please! I- Have you seen Eddie Munson lately?” you cried out, pushing through the crowds of anxious people trying to leave Hawkins. You’d been here for an hour, seeing hundreds of people, and the only responses you’d gotten were sympathetic head shakes, bleak apologies, and one of Jason Carver’s stupid basketball friends spitting the words, “Fuck no, and if I knew where that freak was, I’d turn him in to the police, not hand it over to some bitch like you.”

By now, everyone that was planning to leave Hakwins today was already gone and you walked somberly toward Hawkins High School. Tears pricked at your eyes but you fought against letting them fall. You felt so helpless. Where could he be? You hadn’t heard from Eddie since the incident involving Chrissy. 

But somehow this felt different. Before, you had hope. You felt sure that he was out there, that - despite being accused of murder - he was safe. But ever since the earthquake, it felt like that hope that you had, just days ago, has been smothered. 

You opened the door to the gymnasium of your high school miserably. After the accident, it was transformed into some type of sanctuary, with lots of volunteers helping out with making food, sorting clothing, and keeping track of those missing. 

You made a beeline for the board in the middle of the room, missing posters, news articles, and other miscellaneous papers and signs hung from it. You had a few posters for Eddie left in your hands after hanging them up all day and wanted to replace the vandalised version on the board with one of yours. 

When you turned, more than ready to get home, someone caught your eye. A freshman, short with curly hair and a sorrowful expression. You recognised him as one of the kids Eddie sat with at lunch. You hurried toward him, hoping, praying, that maybe he knew where Eddie was. 

“Excuse me?” you tapped him on the shoulder, “I- I’m not sure if you know. I’m Eddie’s girlfriend. Do you know where Eddie is? I’ve been searching for him all day and- and I saw you and I recognise you as one of his friends. I know it’s stupid that you would know and I wouldn’t, but I’m at a loss of where to look for him.” 

Not even halfway through your first sentence, your voice started to break and more tears streamed down your already wet face. 

“Yeah. I- I know you. He talked about you a lot…” Dustin sniffs, holding back his own tears, “Eddie, he’s uh, he’s…” he cuts off, not able to say the words. Instead, he pulls out a necklace you recognise all too well. 

A thin red guitar pick, strung on a cheap metal chain. Your heart dropped. 

“I… I made this for him 2 years ago.” Your eyes are red and when you look up you see Dustin’s are the same. 

He lets out a shaky breath before speaking again. “I wish everyone had gotten to know him. Really know him. Because they would've loved him, Y/n. They would've loved him. Even in the end... he never stopped being Eddie. Despite everything. I never even saw him get mad. He could've run. He could've saved himself. But he fought. He fought and died to protect this town. This town that... hated him. He isn't just innocent...Y/n, he's... he's a hero.”

You let out a sob at that. How could Eddie be gone? Just a week ago he promised you that this year you’d get to see him graduate, that this year he’d really work on getting his music out there, that one day he’d go on tour and take you with him. 

“He saved me, he saved us. He saved everyone,” Dustin said, and you realised that you weren't the only one crying. 

“Of course he did. He loved this place, and he loved you, Dustin Henderson. I don’t even think we’ve ever spoken and yet I already feel like we’re best friends because of how much he talks about you.”

“I don’t think he could talk more about me than you, Y/n,” Dustin chuckles through his tears. “He talked about you all the time. I still remember that time a couple months ago he spent the whole lunch period telling us about your date.”

“Oh yeah? Which one?”

“The picnic.” 

You smiled at the memory. “He knew how badly I wanted to go on a cute little picnic date, but it was freezing out, and so he bought a bunch of fake plants and decorated his bedroom with them and then set up a whole cliche picnic indoors. Granted he also tried making our food, which obviously failed (because that boy can’t even be trusted to make a ham and cheese sandwich), so we had to buy some fast food, but still, it was amazing.” 

“He never told me he burnt any food that day,” Dustin replies, allowing you to reminisce in your happy memories.

“Well, he didn’t burn it, per se. But it got very close to that.” 

“Yeah, no wonder he never brings anything hot for lunch,” he jokes.

“In truth, Wayne - Eddie’s uncle - still makes his lunch for him. But don’t tell him I said that…” you trail off, the smile leaving your face when you remember that Eddie’s not here to be told anything. 

Dustin watches as tears slip from your eyes once again, looking down at his lap uncomfortably. He’s not sure whether to try and console you or distract you with another happy Eddie memory. He shifts, and you take it as him getting ready to stand up.

“I’m sorry,” you sniff, “I’m sure this is really awkward for you and we don’t really know each other well enough for it not to be. Just- please don’t leave… I can’t be alone right now.”

“No, of course. I understand. Sometimes it’s just nice to be with someone you trust. Or, at least someone that someone you trust, trusts-”

“Don’t worry about it,” you stop him from rambling, “I do trust you.” The two of you share a sad, understanding smile. 

[barakittens517]

PT II: The Finding

Summary: In which Ellis makes some friends! (kinda)

PT 1: The Lost PT III: The Reunion

Words: 3,851

Warnings: mentions of alcohol use, minor (slightly graphic) character death, minor religious themes

Pairing: Morpheus x gender neutral reader

Notes: Gifting a wayyy longer second part because I really want to get to the good shit!!! I'm kidding, but I promise this is going somewhere good (:

Tag List: @ponyboys-sunsets

Now you were awake, at a truck stop far from anywhere you’d been before. Your homicidal companion was preoccupied with one of the driver’s side wheels, and he couldn’t see you. 

Now… Now’s your chance.

You hop over the car door and sling your backpack over your shoulder. You practically sprint  towards the gas station, hoping and praying he won’t look up. 

You make a beeline towards the middle aisle to hide behind the displays. So far, so good. You pretend to be fixated on the snacks, but you keep peeking over the aisle to make sure Rin is still outside. 

“You findin’ everything all right?” a gruff voice asks from behind you. You jump at the sudden noise.

“Y-yeah, I think so,” you stutter. “Can’t decide between a Snickers and a Reese’s cup.” 

The gas station attendant behind you chuckles. “That’s a tough one. My vote would be for the peanut butter.”

You offer a nervous smile and meet the attendant’s eyes. He’s older, likely in his fifties, with graying sideburns and a scuffed baseball hat with St. John’s Outfield Angels stitched on the front. The nametag on his collared shirt reads Ryan.  

“Thank you, Ryan,” you say. 

“Not a problem,” he replies. He tilts his head to the side as your eyes meet, and the strange look that follows makes your stomach flip. In less than a moment his friendly demeanor drops, and he falls to his knees in front of you with tears in his eyes. 

“Jesus Christ!” you exclaim. His hands are clasped in prayer, and he’s rocking back and forth, muttering something under his breath. “Are you okay?” you ask. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see a man in a cream-colored jacket heading for the front doors. 

Shit. 

“Um, Ryan?”  you ask. “Should I call an ambulance?” You crouch down as the bell on the front door rings out. Rin is here. You place a hand on Ryan’s shoulder, and he looks up at you. 

“... Pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of our death. Mea culpa, mea culpa, oh God, get away from me!” he yells. You wrench your hand to your chest and fall backwards to the floor. You can see Rin watching with the ghost of a smile on his face. 

Ryan starts sobbing in earnest now, pressing his palms into his eyes. “I’ve been a terrible man, a sinner and a liar an-and, oh, God forgive me, I am my father’s son!” he wails. You’re terrified, seemingly frozen in place less than a foot from him. 

He looks up at you, eyes rimmed red, and that strange look returns. “Forgive me,” he whispers, so quiet you have to lean forward to hear him. At that moment he rips the ball point pen clipped to his pocket and clicks it open. “You have to forgive me,” he pleads, then plunges the tip into his neck. 

“No!” you shriek, but it’s too late already. He’s hit a major artery, and he’s dead before his head even hits the tile. For the second time in twenty-four hours, you are covered in someone else’s blood. 

Rin applauds from the front counter. “You know, I was wondering about you, Ellis. Thinking you might try and run like this, but now? Now, I think we’ll get along just fine.” 

You wipe the blood from your cheek and try to remember what breathing feels like. “What… the fuck,” you whisper, and now the tears won’t stop streaming. 

Living as long as you have was never this brutal. You avoided most confrontations. The only pain inflicted was on you, never anyone else.

Rin steps over the body in front of you and grabs your hand to pull you up. “I had a feeling about you. Come on, let’s, uh… let’s get you out of here.” You follow him blindly to the front of the store. “Go get in the car. I’m gonna grab a couple of things and I’ll follow you out,” he says, holding the door open. 

You walk silently to the convertible and slink down into one of the seats. You unwrap Rin’s kerchief to wipe the blood off of your hands and find two disembodied eyeballs staring back at you from the cupholder. 

What the fuck.

The alarm bells ringing in your head are muted by the general dissociation you feel. You’re still holding the now-half-melted peanut butter cups in your hand. 

You’re startled by the slam of the car door. Rin is holding out a blue Gatorade. 

“Here,” he says. “It’s gonna be a long drive, and we have a lot of catching up to do.”

You take a sip and choke- it’s definitely blue Gatorade, but it’s also definitely mixed with some kind of liquor. “We do?” 

He grins as he starts the car and pulls onto the highway. “We do.”

You take longer sips of the Gatorade as he drives, grateful for the hydration and the alcohol. The panic you constantly felt is starting to wear off, enough for you to start questioning everything about your seemingly pointless existence.

“You seem to know a lot about what’s going on,” you start. “Who even are you?” 

“You really wanna know?” he asks. You nod. “Well, let’s start with you. Ellis. Something tells me you’ve been passing through a lot of towns in your time.” 

You recall your brief conversation at the bar, if you could even call it that. You sigh. “Um… yeah. I don’t- I guess I don’t remember where I started. It’s just been… a lot of years. Like… I don't know. I don’t really keep track anymore.”

Rin nods. You take another sip of the Gatorade, now half gone. The buzz is making you braver.

“I don’t die,” you say out loud, and the thought startles you. “I never have.” You think back as far as you can, just before the beginning. You were younger, but you looked the same. You always looked the same. 

“Do you dream?” Rin asks. The idea of dreaming catches you off guard. You rarely sleep, and when you do, it’s never more than a couple hours. 

“No,” you answer. 

“What’s the earliest memory you have?” he asks. 

You shrug. “Somewhere… there was a big war. In Europe. The first one,” you clarify. 

“And you’ve always been by yourself?” he asks. 

You think hard but come up blank. “I guess I don’t know. I think so. It’s all… blank.” He nods. You take another sip of Gatorade and grimace at the burn of liquor going down your throat. “What about you? Do you know me, or something?” you ask.

Rin smiles. “Know of you, maybe. I imagine we must’ve left around the same time.”

“Left where?” you ask. 

“The Dreaming, Ellis. I left when the Creator abandoned it. Abandoned us.” The distinct malice in his tone makes you shiver. 

“I’m sorry, the Creator? You mean, like, God?” You hadn’t thought about God in over a century. He didn’t seem to care much for you. 

Rin laughs. “No, worse. Much worse. His name is Morpheus.” 

Your head is spinning trying to follow his story. “So… so, what? What does he create?” 

For the first time, Rin removes his sunglasses. Two mouths with perfectly white rows of teeth smile from his eye sockets. 

“Jesus Christ,” you whisper under your breath. He smiles. 

“He creates dreams,” Rin answers, “And nightmares. I suppose you don’t have to guess what that makes me.” A moment later, he replaces his glasses. You both sit in silence for a moment. “Make sense so far?” he asks.

“Y-yeah,” you stutter. “I think so.”

“He called me The Corinthian,” he says. 

You nod. “Guess the name you told me wasn’t too far off,” you say. “I would’ve gone with Ian, I think.”

The Corinthian laughs. “I’ll take that into consideration next time.”

All things considered, you feel better. Lighter. The Corinthian isn’t going to kill you. You’ve been reassured about your existence- of course you never felt like you belonged. You don’t. Whatever the Dreaming is, that’s where you’re supposed to be. 

You just don’t remember how you got here. 

Or what that makes you.

You cross the state lines into Georgia quicker than you’d expected. The Corinthian drives like a bat out of hell, but you haven’t seen a single cop in hundreds of miles. You haven’t seen much of anyone, to be honest. And you’re grateful, in a sense. The last person that saw you stuck a Bic in his carotid. 

The thought still makes you ill, a feeling even the liquor won’t help. The Corinthian pulls into a hotel parking lot and parks off to the side. 

“Alright, so here’s the deal,” he starts. “I have a job to do.”

“Rose Walker,” you say. He nods. 

“Now, I have reliable information that places her brother somewhere-” he motions to the highway going east- “around here. I intend to find him.”

“So you’re… dropping me off?” you ask. You didn’t usually stay at hotels, and you definitely weren’t looking forward to interacting with other people any time soon. You’d almost hoped the Corinthian would just take you with him, wherever he was going. 

He nods. “There’s gonna be a convention here, the day after tomorrow. I’ll be back then, and I’ll have her little brother with me.” He holds his hand up to stop you from interrupting him. “Now, I understand there’s a lot you don’t know. That’s fine. You’ve been helpful up till now, so I’m willing to help you out. There’s already been rooms booked for me. You just hang out, and don’t cause too much trouble, and we’ll all be home free by the end of the week.” 

You have so. Many. Questions. “A convention?” 

The Corinthian grins proudly. “I’m their guest of honor. Get to make a speech and everything. Now, that room’s booked under ‘The Corinthian’. They’re, uh... They’re big fans of my work. You just tell ‘em you’re with me.”

“Okay.” You shift in the leather seat, unbuckling the belt to grab your backpack. “So I just… wait? And then what?” 

His expression darkens. “I’ll take care of the rest. Just… stay in the room, okay? We don’t need you making anyone else off themselves with office supplies.” It’s a joke, but it stings. You force a smile anyways. 

“No problem.” You slam the door closed- probably a little too forcefully, and start towards the front doors. The Corinthian leans out the window. 

“Here!” he shouts, tossing a pair of black aviators at you. You hold them up and wave as he burns out onto the highway.

The pit in your stomach is growing, but you try not to think about it. Instead, you put the sunglasses on and try to focus on the convention decorations. 

A red banner reads WELCOME CEREAL CONVENTION in bold red letters. You briefly wonder what in the fuck that actually means. 

Inside, you find a line of people waiting to check in. The ones who already have are wearing name tags like The Choir Boy and The Good Doctor. As much as you want to know more, you remember the Corinthian’s warning. You’re supposed to stay in the room. 

Minutes later, you reach the front desk. A very large man in cat ears is sitting behind it, propping up a clipboard on his stomach. “Name?” he asks. 

“I’m, uh, I’m with the Corinthian,” you say. His name tag says Fun Land. 

He looks down at his clipboard, then back at you, annoyed. “You’re not The Corinthian,” he states plainly. 

“I know, I said I’m with him,” you repeat. Fun Land sighs. 

“Fine, fine, whatever.” He rolls his eyes and crosses off a name on the clipboard. “Guest of honor gets free reign, I guess.” He hands you a lanyard with The Corinthian +1* scratched into the label and a room key with a number.

“Thank you,” you say. 

“Yep,” Fun Land replies, looking over your shoulder towards the man behind you. “Next!” 

You make your way upstairs and find your room. It’s a fancy suite- you assume presidential. Something about the Corinthian tells you he wouldn’t have it any other way. 

You hang around for a bit, watching the cable channels on the TV until your stomach starts rumbling. You hadn’t really thought to pack food. You don’t want to risk adding to the Corinthian’s bill (if he was even going to be the one paying), but you do have cash. And there is a bar downstairs.

Without a second thought, you grab a handful of bills and stuff them into your front pocket. You take your name tag and the room key with you. You make your way downstairs to the hotel bar and pick a stool farthest from the door, away from most people. 

They’re all grouped together like schools of fish, name tags proudly displayed. None of them make sense to you, but you’re glad you have yours. 

You order two vodka lemonades and a platter of mozzarella sticks. The drinks are strong and the mozzarella sticks are piping hot. You’re done with the platter and both drinks before you even realize it. 

The alcohol is kicking in, and you feel calmer about the situation you’re in. Normally you’d be panicking, surrounded by strange people, wearing sunglasses indoors in case you accidentally cause a suicide. Now you’re still panicking, but in a manageable sense. The panic is relegated to a small voice echoing in the very back of your mind. You sit up a little straighter as you order another drink.

One of the ladies from the smaller group breaks away and heads towards you, waving. “You’re with the Corinthian, I see,” she smiles. Her name tag reads Dark Angel.

“Yes,” you answer, “I got here a little early.”

“Are you a fellow collector?” she asks, eyebrows raised. 

“Absolutely,” you answer without hesitation. You have no idea what you’ve just agreed with, or what a collector does. You’re assuming it is not, as the sign would have you think, about cereal. 

She grins. “That’s fantastic news. Now, you certainly don’t need to make a speech or anything, but you’re more than welcome to join the conference activities. We’re holding several workshops over the next couple of days, and I’m hosting the panel tonight.” She motions to the bartender. “Anything they order, put it on my tab.” She touches your shoulder and winks before rejoining her group. 

Was she… flirting with you? 

Regardless, you take her up on the offer and order two more vodka lemonades and a basket of chicken wings. It’s basically dinner, right? The bartender hands you a pre-mixed bottle the size of a pint of whiskey. 

Once the basket of chicken wings is gone, you decide it’s time to head to bed. You mentally pat yourself on the back for causing no harm, even though you didn’t listen to the Corinthian entirely. Besides, it’s not like he’s going to find out. 

You take the bottle of vodka lemonade with you, giving the bartender a nod of thanks for the life hack. Why order a bunch of little drinks when you could carry a whole portable bottle of them? You stumble into the carpeted hallway and hear Dark Angel’s voice coming from a conference room off to the left. 

You peek in the doorway. There’s a crowded auditorium. It looks like she’s giving a TEDTalk of some sort. Huh. 

You sneak into the back of the room- only for a moment, you tell yourself. Just to see what the convention’s about. 

“I see a lot of old faces in this crowd, and a lot of new ones,” Dark Angel says. She winks at you from the stage, and you raise your bottle to her. She smiles. “I’m glad we could all make it this year. Aside from The Family Man, of course, but that’s no bother.”

You zone out for a moment to take a look at the people seated around you. Something about them makes you incredibly uncomfortable. They’re hanging on every word she says. Some even have pens and pads of paper to take notes. 

“This… business that we’re in, it’s hard work, isn’t it?” Dark Angel asks. The crowd murmurs in agreement. “We don’t get a lot of acknowledgement for our successes. However, I’m hoping to change that in the near future. Considering our remarkable turnout, I’ve been talking with Nimrod.” She gestures towards a shorter man seated in the front, wearing large glasses. He smiles nervously at her acknowledgement. 

“The organizers of the convention have been talking, and we’d like to introduce a cash prize for one very special collector each year.” You perk up at the mention of money. You wouldn’t mind winning, granted, you’re not even sure what winning looks like. 

Dark Angel smiles. “Now, this would be completely voluntary. Anyone wanting to sign up would need to cough up $30 to be considered in the running. Does that sound fair?” she asks. The crowd nods in unison. 

“Now, I understand we all have our motivations for collecting. Nimrod and I thought this would add a bit of fun into the mix. There will be many opportunities to sign up over the next few days, and the winner will be announced at next year’s convention. Any questions so far?”  

A man in the third row, dressed in a three-piece suit and hat, raises his hand. “How is the winner decided?” he asks. 

Dark Angel nods. “Good question. The organizers of the convention and a few volunteers will need to keep record of those who sign up. They’ll watch for relevant news in the next year. A collection that makes headlines will be worth the most points. And, of course, you’ll want to keep track of your own. Next year, we’ll collaborate with all participants and tally up scores. The first winner will be announced by the guest speaker.”

“What if we don’t make the news?” someone shouts. 

Dark Angel shrugs. “Then you’re not a very good collector, are you?” The crowd ‘oohs’ in response. 

You take another sip of your drink. They’re definitely not talking about fucking Cocoa Puffs, that’s for sure. 

“Before we move on, some final notes. The last day for a body to qualify will be a week before the convention. No last-minute points will be counted, especially near or on convention grounds. We don’t shit where we eat, right?” She pauses for maximum effect. You start to feel sick again, and not because of the vodka. Something is seriously wrong here. 

“With that out of the way, I’d like to invite our panel members on stage. Please welcome Scratch, Highlander, Uncle Charlie, and our youngest member to date, FUBAR!” Four men take their seats behind the table on stage. 

“Uncle Charlie and Scratch are two of our oldest members. FUBAR and Highlander are two of our newest. Now, I’ll be moderating questions and moving the discussion along, but the rest I will leave up to the four of you.  Let’s start with an easy one. What inspired you to begin collecting?” Dark Angel asks. 

FUBAR answers first, proudly motioning to the American flag pin on his jacket. “I joined the military out of high school, and let me just say, they let you do anything once you’re off base. They’re basically giving you step-by-step instructions on how to get away with murder. And I’m good at it! Why would being discharged stop me?”

“A war machine making war machines,” Dark Angel comments wistfully. “What about you, Scratch?” 

Scratch is a middle-aged man wearing a stained tank top and cargo shorts. His steel-toe construction boots stick out like clown shoes under the table. His arms and legs are covered in cuts and scrapes in various stages of healing.

“Well, shit,” he starts, “I never did get professional training. S’mostly just compulsion, I guess. Can’t fuckin’ stand the girlies… Only way to shut ‘em up is tearin’ their throats out, apparently!” Scratch guffaws, and the crowd laughs. 

Okay, now you’re going to throw up. It’s no wonder The Corinthian is the guest speaker- you literally met him in the middle of killing someone. Your blood runs cold. Every person in this room has killed. Even you, come to think of it. 

You stumble blindly out of the auditorium and immediately throw up in a large potted plant beside the door. You need to get back to your room, like now. 

“Rough night?” someone behind you asks. You turn and see a younger guy with long black hair staring at the plant in front of you. His name tag reads Blade Runner. You don’t really want to know why. 

“Yeah,” you reply weakly. He reaches for your hand and pulls you up to stand next to him. “I should probably just go to bed.” 

Blade Runner doesn’t let go of your arm. “You know, I’ve got just the thing to sober you up. In my room, of course.” He smiles, revealing a row of impossibly sharp teeth. He pulls you closer to himself and you both make your way towards the elevator. “Now, don’t go causing trouble for me, please.”

“O-okay,” you whisper. The ride up is silent, save for the stereotypically quiet elevator jazz in the background. You briefly consider pressing the alarm button, but assume Blade should be considered armed and dangerous. 

When the doors open on the fourth floor, he shoves you roughly into the hallway. Your vodka sloshes onto the carpet. 

“I’m in 1419,” he says, and you follow the room numbers down to the last door on the right. Your entire body is screaming to make a run for it, but you’re both intoxicated and unarmed. Like an idiot. 

The walls are covered in old black and white photos, pinned with notes attached to each of them. You recognize some of the convention members. He’s been keeping track of them, stalking them. 

“Impressed?” You hear him behind you, but it’s too late. Excruciating pain radiates from the crown of your skull, and then nothing.

For the first time in over a century, you dream. Well, not really. But for once it’s not just black.

You’re in a landscape of black sand, with mountains lining the horizon. Enormous ivory gates rise up in front of you, carved with details you do not understand. 

You nervously walk forward, placing your hands to push them open. The doors creak ominously, but do not move. 

“Hello?” you shout. “Is somebody there?”

Silence. 

“Where the fuck am I…” you mutter, stepping back to analyze the carvings. 

You’ve returned, a voice echoes around you. 

“I’ve never been here before,” you reply. “I don’t know what this is.” 

The ground begins to rumble beneath you. The gates are shaking now, almost vibrating. You can see a sliver of sky between them as they open. 

A shadowy, black figure is standing on the other side. You get the feeling you should already know who they are, but your brain simply won’t place the name. 

 You will remember.

[maximyles]

Dear Billy 2.0

Please give me ideas on things to write

Max had decided on going back to Billy’s grave again. They decided to read the letter to him again, wanting to do it without Vecna getting into their mind, and almost ending up next to Billy.

Taking a deep breath, they sat in-front of the stone. Taking the letter out their pocket a small sigh left them, feeling their eyes welling up already. Unfolding the letter, they took yet another deep breath, looking down at the writing for a second before they looked at the stone, “Let’s try this again, huh?” They said purely to make themselves laugh a little, lighten the mood, but they knew there was no lightening this mood.

Their gaze went down, looking at the writing. “Dear Billy. I don’t know if you can even hear this. A few years ago I would have said ‘that’s ridiculous, impossible,’ but that was before I found out about alternate dimensions and monsters. So I’m just going to stop assuming that I know…anything.” They read a little more, feeling their eyes welling with tears, their voice cracking. “Basically, ever since you left, everything’s been a total disaster. And the worst part is, I can’t tell them why you’re gone. I can’t..I can’t tell them you saved El’s life.” They paused, taking another shaky breath, wiping their tears away from their cheeks. “That you saved my life. I play that moment back in my head all the time. And sometimes I imagine myself running to you, pulling you away. I imagine that if I had, that you would still be here. And everything…everything would be right again.”

Keeping a hold of the letter, they pressed it against their legs, looking up at the sky for a moment, thinking by some miracle it would calm them down a little, as they found themselves choking on their words. It didn’t. Shutting their eyes tight for a moment, they lowered their head before they opened them again, looking at the letter, “I imagine that we could’ve become friends. Good friends, like a real brother and sister. And I know that’s stupid. You hated me. I hated you. But I thought that maybe we could try again. But that’s not what happened. I just stood there and I watched. For a while I tried to be happy. Normal. But…But I think that maybe a part of me died that day too. And I haven’t told anyone this. I just can’t. But I had to tell you, before it’s too late, if you can even hear this. I really hope that you can. I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry, Billy. Love, your shitty little sister, Max.”

The ginger looked at the stone in front of them, the tears they’d been fighting must have started falling, pouring down their cheeks. Max didn’t dare take the headphones from their ears, not this time. Not again. Uncrossing their legs, they brought them to their chest, their head dropping into their knees as they just sobbed. God, they hated this, and as per usual, it was all their fault, and now? Now they had to deal with consequences. Honestly? They’d rather deal with Billy breaking things, but who wouldn’t? Dealing with that was a hell of a lot easier than dealing with this. Anything was easier than this. Sometimes they wished, prayed, that the roles were reversed, even prayed that something terrible would happen to them, well, they definitely got what they asked for, I mean, they are cursed by Vecna, and everyone knows how that ends.

Finally lifting their head they rubbed their eyes, not that it helped much, everything was still a blur. They sniffled a little, tucking some hair behind their ear, “You know, I spray your cologne sometimes. Very rarely, I know it was expensive, and I don’t want to waste it.” They wiped their eyes again before reaching down their shirt, pulling his necklace out from underneath. “I’m sorry you weren’t buried with this. Neil was going to bin it. And I just…I couldn’t let that happen. Your Camaro is doing fine. Well, fineish. I've uh…I’ve been working on it. Trying to fix it. You made it look so easy in Cali. Learning that it’s a huge pain in the ass.” They made a small laugh. “I’ll keep you updated on that if I make it out of this alive. But for now, I’ll leave you in peace.” They said as they stood, dusting themselves down, their eyes roaming around the place before they looked back at the stone. “Never been good at this, so uh…Bye?” Mostly because they’d never really dealt with this before. “I hope you’re resting easy. Christ, you deserve to be.” They scoffed a little before they nodded awkwardly, stuffing their hands in their pockets. “Right, leaving. Letting you be in peace.” They finally took a few steps back before they turned around, starting to walk away.