#ignore how fucking ugly the tree looks

[daisyscottage]

Happy Homewarming!

here’s Eddie and Frank hangin out!!!! this is actually a super old piece from December, I just colored it this morning as a warm-up. good thing Welcome Home just recently entered its Christmas era so im not awfully late with this🙏🙏

click 4 better quality!!

EDIT- EDDIES ARM IS TOTALLY UNCOLORED IM SO SORRY I HAVE NO IDEA HOW I COULD HAVE MISSED THAT

[virgincels]

AND I LOVE HER !

ft. leon s. kennedy x fem!reader

tags. omg.. fluff and that’s it im sick, age gap, like brief mentions to sex idk, slight angst

note. don’t know what happened to me! ignore typos/mistakes this isn’t edited :3 rbs n feedback always appreciated omg im embarrassed ngl this is just leon feeling guilty as always

“Okay, and so we get bored, right?” You tell him, perched on the bathroom counter, peeling back your false lashes to reveal– you guessed it, your natural layer of lashes which look identical to the fake pair. “Like, there wasn’t a lot to do, I mean it was snowing, we couldn’t leave campus, we couldn’t even leave her bedroom, right?” Leon gives an Mhm to show you he’s listening and totally not dozing off to the sound of your voice. Sorry, babe, sometimes it just puts him to sleep. The same way white noise does. “We go on Bumble - you know what that is, right?”

“Oh, yeah, obviously,” Leon scoffs, when in fact he doesn't know what that is.

“So, yeah, we're swiping, swiping, not a single right, right?” Another Mhm from his side, you’re using a cotton bud to remove your eye makeup, the black smears and becomes streaky on your skin. Cute, that’s how you look after a nice, hard fucking. His mind wanders far away to the sanctum that is his bedroom, the room on the opposite side of the hall. “And so Ashley, you remember her, right?”

“Rings a bell,” It rings no bells, not a single one, the only Ashley he knows is ex-First Daughter Ashley Graham. “The short one?” All your friends are short, he makes a purposely vague guess to hide his disinterest. Leon would put more into this conversation if he wasn’t five seconds away from conking out on the closed toilet seat.

“Yeah, that one, her fucking boyfriend pops up!”

“From where?” He asks, genuinely concerned for your wellbeing, was the freak hiding out in his girlfriend’s dorm room, under the bed of some shit?

“On Bumble?” You shoot him an odd look through the mirror, “Anyway, his profile says some shit about an open relationship, that his girlfriend wants a threesome, like, all this shit.”

“That’s awful.” He gets the gist, the dude is a cheater, still has no clue what a Bumble is.

“I know, and he’s ugly, that’s the worst part, she’s out of his league.” You hop off the counter, running the tap to wash your face in that ritualistic manner. Scrub, splash, wipe. Shit’s obsessive, Leon’s only ever ran his wet hands over his face, uses his thumbs to get the gunk out the corner of his eyes. “She was totally upset,” You say, lathering your face in foam, “She wouldn’t stop crying, and don’t, like, tell her or anything, babe,” You rub circles on your cheeks, the soap bubbles up, the tap has been running five minutes too long.

“Wasn’t planning on it, babe.” Leon tips his head back to soothe the tension in his neck, when you cup your hands and splash water into your face, droplets splatter on the counter.

“Good, well, to tell you the truth, she was pissing me off,” A few more minutes of what looks more like a facial massage than a wash and you’re done, “Like, he was never even nice to her, he made her pay for dates, and she was really crying hard, Leon, like, snot and everything.”

“Lousy guy.”

“Yeah, and so we find a place that’s open on the map, like, a convenience store, I mean it was like gas and groceries, but it was so fucking shady, babe,” You pat your face dry with a towel, hanging it up on the rack, “And, like, we try to get an Uber, or like literally any cab at this point, but no one wants to drive in that weather, you saw what kinda clothes I took too!”

Oh, Leon did, and he did the right thing and warned you that tie-up tops and mini skirts so mini they could be classified as belts would do nothing for you. Well, they do everything for your figure, but nothing against the least windy of winds. Like a shaky orange leaf clinging to the weary branches of an autumn tree, those scraps of Lycra would go flying, leaving you topless and bottomless and defenceless without a Leon to take care of your sorry ass.

“So, I’m like so sure I’ve got frostbite as we’re walking, but it’s five minutes away, we keep going, none of us had an ID by the way, not even a real one,” The second part of your routine involves applying lotion so thickly, it secretes enough palm oil to give back to those Amazonian orangutans, solving the deforestation issue one nighttime routine at a time.

“Babe,” Leon says in the tone of a disappointed and slightly exasperated father who wants nothing but the best for his daughter while being emotionally distant all at once, because he just has that kind of voice, “You can’t be doing that, it’s dangerous, could get in a lot of trouble, and it’s bad for you, y’know?” His liver cries out in disbelief as it has been subjugated completely by his alcoholism, “You don’t need drinks to have fun, you just need your friends.” His words pass through you. Leon has changed the world through his Special Agent status, he’s saved it time and time again, what he has not done is change your world like he suspected he would with that half-assed motivational speech.

“So, Ashley, the bitch, she shoves me in front, and all the girls are like oh, you go up, you look soo much older than us, which is so fucking rude. Like, I know I look it, everyone says it to me, doesn’t mean she should say it. So, I go up, and babe - I swear to god, he doesn’t even ask, like, he just kinda looked at my tits and scanned the bottles.” You use your hands a lot when you speak.

He blinks at you bare-faced, and it all comes falling down, on top of him like gigantic Jenga blocks that he himself misplaced. “You’re a baby,” Leon tells you. Not in the way most older men do when they talk down to young girls - to make them feel like even younger girls. It’s not to put you in your place, after all, it is Leon that needs to be put in his place more than anyone. He says this with the utmost sincerity as he spirals head-first into a frantic epiphany of sorts. He’s fucking a baby. A baby with a heart-shaped ass and a penchant for clothes that cover a single nipple at best.

“No, I’m not a baby, I’m just not old,” There’s a lack of hardened lines on your face, not quite baby-faced, but visibly young.

“Yeah, okay, baby,” Leon pats your head, rolls his shoulders back to relieve him of an ache, “I’m going to bed.”

“So am I.” Your lips jut out, “I was going there first actually.” Holy Mother of God, you’re a kid. Don’t do this to him. Usually, Leon likes his women menopausal, Norman Bates would agree, that’s insensitive, rather Mrs Bates would agree. It’s just that when you’re forty-six, fucking older women goes into grandma territories. Women his age are beautiful, but half of them settled down over ten years back, the available ones are career women that keep him on his toes, and he doesn’t like that. Being kept on his toes is too much, his back hurts and he wants to rest. The other half come with kids, Leon would rather scoop out his brain with a tea spoon than come into close contact with a child. The appeal wears off either way because Leon wants them to be older than him, but he’s not twenty anymore so the older women won’t be forty and stern and beautiful in the way worn out housewives are, they’ll be sixty and senile.

“Were you now?” He keeps the bile down in his stomach where it should be, takes you to bed, fucks you into the mattress one last time, kisses the mole between your breasts and leaves the following morning. What drug was he on the night he met you? Leon doesn’t know, and he doesn’t know if he’s still on it, or if dating younger women is a side effect of it.

The car windows are frosted over when he makes his way out without a de-icer in hand, it melts slowly as he sits in the driver's seat with his head bowed, drooped on top of the wheel. Leon pats himself down, feeling for his keys, he gets out, into the elevator and returns to face the front door. He slots his key into the lock and enters the apartment because it is his apartment, not yours. He’s so used to walking out on people that he walked out of his own home. Selfish tendencies that surely stem from some fucked up part of his brain.

“Leon?” You’re stood there in the doorway rubbing your eyes, “Did you go out?”

“Yeah, babe,” He grunts when you take your seat on his lap, the weight is pleasant, grounds him, “I went out, just for a minute, had to take a call, didn’t wanna wake you.”

“I woke up the minute you got out of bed.” The softness of your skin on his is dizzying, sleep-swollen lips coming to kiss his scruffy face with all the tenderness of a young adult woman, that’s a lot of tenderness, they feel a lot. Heart might not be on your sleeve, but it leaks out of you in the most insignificant moments, it’s in every single word you say to him. “You’re not very quiet, Leon. I don’t know who hired you, they should reconsider.”

Smiling, he cradles your close, takes your tit in his hand. Love is stored in these things. That’s why your heart is in the left one, not on your sleeve. “Was I that loud?”

“Yeah, I heard you stub your toe, and you were like fuck, fuck, fuck! for a good minute,” You recount, “And then I heard you talking to yourself in the bathroom, and you were brushing your teeth, you kept making those gross gagging noises, my dad does that too.”

“Trying to get it all out.” Leon shrugs, his chin rests atop your head.

“Get what out? Your uvula?”

“No, stupid, just, I don’t know, stop asking questions.”

“Okay, whatever, and then you walked out still talking to yourself, and then you were looking for your keys, moving furniture,” That he was, “Sounds like you scraped up the floors,” That he did, “Then you found them and they kept fucking jingling, then you shut the door really quietly, and I was like where is this loser going. Hey, Leon, you know I can see your car from here, right?”

You’d seen him. Seen him throw a sulky manchild tantrum in his car. How embarrassing. “If I’m being honest, I didn’t know that.” He admits.

“Well, I saw you sitting in there, I know you didn’t go to the store, I know you’re lying to me, but it’s okay,” You kiss his Adam’s apple, your nose tucked into his neck, “I know you didn’t mean it.”

“I didn’t— I didn’t mean it,” Leon confirms, he holds you tighter to him and thinks that you're more mature than he’ll ever be. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” It comes easily to you, and he wishes to do the same, “You can talk to me instead of, like, trying to drive away from your own apartment, that’s pretty weird, Leon.”

“I know, I’ll talk to you,” He won’t, and you know that, and he knows you know that, but it’s okay, it takes time for this sort of stuff, “I love you,” Leon says again, his lips meet yours, swallows up the response on your tongue, he eats your love.

[scorchedhearth]

OH for the prompts…9 + donnakyle bc i adore how u wrote them in the opening of close, so close <3 or ALTERNATIVELY: 8 + jk >:-)

thank u for enabling me kata, ur the best <3

8. tipping your chin to make you look into their eyes

“Jason,” Kyle spoke calmly, and still he saw his shoulders draw up with tension. He tilted his head and threw a stoic glance his way before turning back to face the city. Kyle bristled and clenched his teeth, drew a deep breath in as he stepped onto the fire escape, into the thick cloud of aggression and rancor that surrounded all of their meeting.

“Fuck off,” Jason said and stubbed his cigarette on a makeshift ashtray, taking longer than strictly necessary to rub the last of the incandescent cherry on the wet mix of sand and ashes left at the bottom of a broken mug.

“What was that all about?” Kyle asked, not looking at Jason, joining him by the railing. He stood tall where Jason was leaning his elbows on the bleached green metal, not bothering to correct his posture.

“Nothing that concerns you.” Jason flicked his tongue out to lick at a bloody scab by the corner of his mouth, and Kyle took notice of the bruises littering his bare shoulders, the swollen jaw and God knows what else hidden by the dark, the moonlight barely reaching those corners of the city.

“It’s my concern when you blow up an entire convoy we've been tracking and push back weeks of the Titans’ efforts when you knew about it.” He bit through his teeth, fists already tensing up.

“I said, fuck off, Fly Boy,” Jason snarled at him, lips pulled back on pearly white teeth, a threat as much as a promise. Blood still tainted his canines, a drink of water washed off the worst but still left red highlights all around the gums.

It did not land the intent, which was pissing off Kyle to either justifiably discredit him or force him away. Not, all it did was quiet the build-up of anger as easily as a flood dragged away trees.

“What happened?” Kyle frowned, and when Jason turned back to stare at the city once more, his hand flew out and grabbed his shoulder, pulled him toward him before he could think. A sharp hiss, an even sharper jab to his inner elbow and Jason was pushing him off with a much stronger shove than necessary.

“None of yours,” he hissed through his teeth and fished his pack out of his pants, opening it with shaky fingers.

Last time Kyle intruded in one of his houses without invitation, Jason threw him out the window -quite literally, without checking for his ring first. The time before that one, he pulled his gun out on him, and the one before he slipped out of the room before Kyle could greet him. This time, Jason tried three times to bring his lighter to life before cupping his hand around the flimsy flame.

Something was wrong.

“Look at me.” He kept his voice low, ignored Jason’s dismissive huff and the chill that ran down his spine. “Let me see,” he asked again, and instead of making use of brute force, he laid two of his fingers under his chin.

He felt Jason freeze under his touch but he didn’t dodge it, so he slowly pulled him toward him. He didn’t pull him no, he moved his fingers and Jason followed his touch, guided into the light of the moon. His arms still by the railing, neck twisted up and out as Kyle got a good look at him.

The other side was worse than the first, the swollen jaw had nothing on the bloody mess of what looked like a deep road rash spread from his chin to eyebrow, ugly, dark scabs covering purple bruising. Like this, with the low collar of his tank top hanging over his collarbones, Kyle’s eyes were drawn to the scar wrapped around his neck, red and raised tonight, far from the silver slash across thin skin he was accustomed to.

Jason stood still under his gaze, smoke rising from his idle hand, unnervingly still. Not relaxed, but not shivering either. Poised, waiting, shocked. At himself or Kyle, he couldn’t tell.

“They did this to you,” Kyle said more than asked, already knowing the answer, as he dragged his eyes away from his neck. Even if Jason had answered him, he wouldn’t have heard a single word.

He was blushing.

He stood still under his touch, two fingertips pressed gently under his chin where stubbles were already growing in, and a ferocious blush on his face. It was hard to tell under the mess of wounds, but red uneven blotches of blood spread across his face like hemorrhage, over his ears and cheeks alike. It was such an alien sight; Kyle’s breath was kicked out of his lungs.

Tension of a different kind bled into the air around them, something raw, painful, too deep. Something heavy that forced them to a pause before they could collide into a wall, deciding whether to swerve or crash.

Kyle startled when Jason violently pulled away, pointing his face toward the city once more and sucking a long drag out of his cigarette, holding it in as he flicked the ash into the dark night beneath their feet.

“Doesn’t matter now,” he murmured, tonguing at the bad scab over his lip again. “They’ve been taken care of.”

It was hard to stay angry after this, to remember how Jason messed up weeks of careful planning by the handful of Titans he found still in New York, likely pushing even further the resolution of their current problem with the dirty money here. This didn’t feel planned like all of Jason’s stunts were. This felt impulsive and retributive.

He knew he wouldn’t be getting anything else out of him Knew him well enough to at least be sure of that. He might not have been thrown over the railing, but he might as well have been given the rigid line his back made as he turned his face away from him to blow smoke up into the stars, only barely keeping Kyle in his sight.

“Whatever,” Kyle mumbled, and stayed a few second too long in the silence, staring at the back of his head, sheared hair and crusts of blood stuck in the dark strands. His fingers were still warm from his skin, tingling like they wanted him to remember the way he followed his touch, followed him, locked under his eyes, speechless and for a brief moment so strikingly open. “Stay out of our business, Jason. It’s better this way.”

He kicked off without casting a look back, his heart in his throat and stones churning in his guts. He hated meeting with Jason, it always left him seething for hours or unbearably sad. He wasn’t sure if he preferred the latter to the former.

[film-in-my-soul]

Ficlet Bingo: Whump Hangster please!

Warning: Vague depictions of bodily injury

.⋆｡°✩ Jake is hurt. But it's alright. Bradley is there. ✩°｡⋆.

His ears are ringing, but that's not the half of it; it's just the half that's the most present while his eyes are still closed, and his body is deciding what the hell it wants to focus on first. Apparently, when he tries to suck in a breath to regain the air he's lost, his broken ribs win out. He's saved from screaming because he didn't manage that breath after all.

Opening his eyes seems impossible, not with the way alarms are turning his brain into a house fire, and the idea of even twitching is threatening an insurmountable kind of panic into his throat. Still, there's a background frequency to the pain and flaring in his brain, a loop of memorable shouts from COs and his father that forces him to shove down all the rolling fear trying to eat him alive.

'Don't you quit now cadet!'

'The Navy doesn't let little boys into planes, Seresin. You a little boy? Then stop acting like one!'

'I didn't raise my son to cry over scraped knees, Jake. Pick yourself up and stop throwing dirt on the Sere-'

"-sin! Hangman!"

The loop escapes his ears and unfurls into the open. For a terrifying second, Jake thinks he's starting to lose it. He can't tell if he's bleeding out, doesn't know if the aching all over his body is accompanied by lacerations or worse, so it's possible he's dying right now and doesn't know it. But-

"Jake," the voice is closer now, and Jake, sucking in the smallest breath he can manage, ignoring the nausea at the rattle in his lungs when it blows out, recognizes it.

"-shaw," he can't get the whole word to form, not past the ragged cough that racks him and lights his chest up like an angry Christmas tree, all fuckshitow and red.

He attempts to do it again but comes up empty, and then he redirects his energy into opening his eyes because talking is apparently out of the question. He's just managing it, blinking grit and what's probably blood out of them, when a shadow falls over his body, and the ground vibrates with how hard Rooster hits his knees next to where Jake's sprawled out.

He thinks he might say something when the other man's face swims into focus, but between his body deciding it really needs him to know it's fucked in some significant way and managing the feat of seeing, it doesn't come out as more than a slur. It makes Rooster's eyebrows scrunch and his mouth pucker, ugly and a little wrecked, so Jake doesn't try again.

"Fuck," Rooster curses under his breath like he's hoping Jake doesn't catch it. It wouldn't matter if he didn't; the sentiment is a shared one, and if he thought he could nod in agreement without throwing up or screaming, he would.

Jake doesn't realize his eyes are slipping closed again until there's a warm, soft pressure on his cheek, tapping at it with shaking fingers.

"Hey, hey, don't you fucking close your eyes, Jake." Rooster's voice is choked, wet like Jake's cough had been, and it's the worry that maybe Rooster had gotten just as messed up as Jake had that has him forcing his lids back up, trying to search for injuries his slowly melting brain hadn't caught.

He doesn't see any, but the way Rooster smiles, wobbly, as he strokes his thumb over Jake's slowly numbing skin is enough of a reward to try and keep his eyes from slipping closed again.

Rooster's doing something with his other hand, poking and prodding, maybe inspecting Jake to find out if he's all still in one piece, but he doesn't leave, and he doesn't take his hand off Jake's face, keeping up the point of contact like it's enough of a comfort to weather the storm of hurt Jake's slowly becoming detached from.

Eventually, he must run out of things to look at, or maybe he just can't stomach it anymore because his attention drifts back to Jake's face. He gets closer, bending over far enough that their foreheads knock together, his hand slipping from Jake's skin to the front of his top, twisting into the fabric and holding on so tight that it almost jostles his no-doubt mangled torso.

"I've got you, sweetheart. You're gonna be okay. I've got you."

Jake doesn't mean to blink and not open his eyes for a second time, but he can't help. Regardless, with Rooster clutching at him, murmuring into his hair, and doing something that might be calling for help, it's alright. Because Jake's gonna be okay.

Bradley said so.

Ficlet Bingo!

[peninkwrites]

How to Bury Your Brother:

A guide by Tommyinnit

crossposted to ao3

~

“You know, the guy known for writing the best instruction manuals on the fucking earth, eh?  The Tommyinnit!  Thought, well, might as well.  Something to do while I dig.  Bet I’m gonna be fucking genius at this shit too.  It’s not… it’s not written down, more like, an unofficial audiobook, ‘cause… cause I can’t write and dig at the same time, see?  Or it’s like a… an oral story that will be passed down for generations!  My wisdom will benefit siblings everywhere of all ages!  Ha.”  A long, heavy pause.  “So, uh.  How to bury your brother.  Well, first thing you gotta do, is, funny enough, dig him out.  He got buried in the rubble, see?  That’s not a fuckin’ universal, but it’s my deal here, so, fuck off.  Um.”

(It was a quiet thing.  For Tommy, things were rarely quiet, but earlier that day, at the start of it at least, he didn't want to make a sound.  As if afraid he was going to wake him.  On the morning of the 17th, early morning, dawn light only just cresting over the server, Tommy went to get him out.)

Tommy’s words are mumbled and accompanied by the scraping of a shovel on dirt.  “Ground is starting to freeze… it is November…”  A pause, he clears his throat.  “Anyway!  Getting ahead of m’self.  I’d get up early.  Early in the morning as you can stand and it helps if you didn’t really sleep the night before anyway, but hike on out there when the sun is just pokin’ its little head up over the trees and… and then you get him out.”

(Tommy was so desperate.  He’d reached the cliffside, realized he couldn’t see Wilbur, and started fighting the mountainside, railing against the rubble with a desperate panic he almost found shameful.  It was hard.  It would get harder.)

“So, you gotta dig him out.  You know he’s under there, but you got no idea what state he’s in, yeah?  And… and it could get ugly.  Uglier even than the fucked up city behind you, but you won’t know until you get in there, so.  Might have to gear yourself up for a bit, alright?  Have a… have a little cry out on the cliffside––not me, obviously.  I’m Tommyinnit, but you might have to––and then you get to digging.  A-And you might get stupid too, alright?  Again, not me, but you might get… might get stupid.  You might start clawin’ your hands all bloody, ‘cause you get it in your thick skull that he’s alive down there.  That he… that he might need you to save him again.”

(Tommy was almost struck by relief when he found him.  Wilbur’s body had not been crushed in the collapse, rather, sheltered.  By chance, an alcove made in the destruction.  Tommy unearthed him, and maybe he could have left him buried right here, right where Wilbur dug his own grave, but he couldn’t do that.  He promised he wouldn’t give up on him.)

Once more, the sharp clang of the shovel hitting dirt.  “Sorry, doing digging.  Distracted.  He’s not alive down there.  Trust me, he’s just not.  You… you saw it.  And you saw it on your comm later, so you know he’s gone, so don’t get yourself all worked up, it’ll be a fuckin’ let down when you see him like that–” Tommy gets choked up, forced to pause.  “ Fuck.  I’m not crying or nothing, I’m just distracted, a-and digging.  And fuck you anyway, nothing wrong with crying!  You gotta get your… your toxic masculinity checked or some shit!”

(Tommy knelt down beside him, and at first he couldn’t bring himself to touch him.  His breathing was shaky as he stared at the blood soaking his brother’s chest.  He buried it and instead fell silent while his gaze wandered up to Wilbur’s open eyes, and a vacant smile that looked so profoundly relieved.)

“Get yourself… get yourself ready, alright?  ‘Cause it’s gonna be fucked up.  He’s gonna be all bloody and his eyes–”  Tommy gets choked up again and cuts himself off.  He takes a shaky breath before making himself continue.  “They’re still gonna be open.  So, you close ‘em.  And… and you ignore the fact that the piece of shit is smiling.  You… you might just be imagining it.  ‘Cause why the fuck would he be smiling?!  No, seriously, what the fuck?  Why is he… why was he smiling?”   A trembling inhale.  “It’s gonna be hard to get him uncovered, and… and you might want to ask for help.  I didn’t, ‘cause I’m strong, you see?  Big man Tommyinnit didn’t need no help movin’ those rocks!  He just… he kept pushing even when it scared him, even when he thought he was gonna hurt ‘im but– I didn’t hurt him ‘cause he was dead.  It… it didn’t hurt him.”  A pause.  “It didn’t hurt him.”

(Tommy put one arm underneath Wilbur’s legs, and the other around his torso.  He'd thought he wouldn't be able to lift him, and it was an awful feeling when he stood and realized how light Wilbur had gotten.  Tommy knew he had lost weight in Pogtopia, but feeling it like that was worse.  He could feel Wilbur’s ribs.  He was stiff from rigor mortis, but Tommy was stiff too from the aches and pains of a battle.  Tommy stood so slowly, afraid of dropping him, and even as Wilbur is too thin in his arms, he was still heavy.  Tommy was slow and careful, even as he knew dropping Wilbur at that point wouldn’t have hurt him.)

“Right.  Right, then, you got ‘im uncovered, eyes closed and all that, next bit is getting him out of there.  Because you can’t bury him there.  You’re not gonna fucking leave him down there.  You’re not.”

(Tommy wasn't sure how he was going to get him out of there, but nonetheless, he slowly turned back the way he had come, and stepped out into the morning sun.  He could have waited and gotten help, he didn't want to.  It was hard.  It was so impossibly hard to step over the rubble and carry him, but he never let go.  He never fell, he just kept walking.  He couldn’t see his feet around Wilbur’s body, not that he tried to, he’d only looked straight ahead.  He’d instead felt his way over the rocks, he’d prayed not to fall and break his neck.  He’d known he wouldn’t be able to carry him far, but he’d made it at least out of the dark and the earth and up on top of the hill that remains intact above the ruins.  No one else was up yet.  Tommy had come early for a reason.)

“So, you’re gonna be careful, yeah?  He won’t weigh much, so you don’t got to worry about that.  Even though it’s probably gonna worry you, ‘cause why the fuck doesn’t he weigh nothing?!”  His rage is cut off by a shaky sigh.  He continues more steadily.  “He’s still a tall bitch, so it won’t be super easy, but you’re gonna make it.  Alright?  The both of you, you’re gonna drag him to the top of the hillside.  Somewhere… somewhere not too far, but somewhere pretty.”

(He made it to the top of the hill before he collapsed, Wilbur hitting the ground, Tommy falling with him, and freezing, stunned and horrified, as he dropped his brother’s body.  He couldn’t keep going anymore.  He just couldn’t.  Tommy didn't cry.  He doesn’t know why he didn’t cry, but he didn’t.  He had stared at Wilbur��s face.  For a moment, weary calm was replaced by sharp rage.  He shut Wilbur’s eyes.  He couldn’t stand the sight of them.)

“Somewhere pretty.”

(Tommy set him down so carefully, as delicately as he could.  He stood on aching knees and unsteady feet, and then he turned away from the body.  Then, he started to talk.)

“Right, once you put him down, all nice and gentle like, even though he won’t care anymore, then you can get on to the digging bit.  I know, feels funny to drag your brother out of the grave he made for one you made, but trust me, mine is loads better.  It’s… it’s gonna be loads better…”

Tommy has an iron shovel.  He started to dig.  It’s November.  The air is cold and the ground not quite frozen, but stiff and difficult to move; rigor mortis has set in for the year.  This is hard too.  Maybe even harder than carrying him.  Tommy digs.  He’s already tired.  He’s been tired for a long time.  Maybe he’ll rest, but not until this is finished.

He is careful and methodical.  He wants it to be perfect, so it is.  He is so unlike himself as he digs out a rectangle, over six feet in length, over three feet in width with such precision.  Then he starts to dig down.

“You’ll mark it out, see?  Make it like, a bit taller than him and a bit wider.  As for me, that makes it over six feet long and three feet wide.  Dunno about your brother.  Measure him, or whatever the fuck.”

His knuckles ache, his palms blister, and his chest feels very tight, but he doesn’t stop.  It’s a labor of love.  He steps down into the grave once it gets too hard to bend down and keeps going.  Once, he pauses.  He’s damp with sweat, the sun has finally broken through, and soon people will come to search the crater.

“It’s gonna… it’s gonna start to hurt.  Holy fuck is it hurtin’ right now, your hands are gonna hurt like a bitch and you’re gonna get all sore–– Which!  To be fair, is because you fought a war yesterday!  Or… Or I did.  Dunno about you.  I did.  We… we won–”  Once more, words broken by a buried sob.  “Did you know that?  We won the war, Wil!  We… oh fuck…”

Tommy cannot stop.  He keeps digging.  That is why it hurts so badly.  When he finally cries, it’s because of how much his hands hurt, his whole body aches, rather than his reason for doing this in the first place.  It’s cool in the grave, sweat cold on his back, the sun not doing enough.  It’s a labor of love.

He doesn’t know what more he can do.  He has run out of ways to save his brother, because there is nothing left to be saved.

There is quiet for a time, save for the sound of digging, and the occasional breathless, whimpering sob.

“You… you gotta dig for a long time, see?  Make it real deep.  Deep enough you can’t see out of it.  That’s when… that’s when you’ll probably get bored enough to write– to talk out a book, yeah?  Write a different instruction manual, though.  I’ve got this one covered.  Even if… even if no one is gonna fuckin’ hear it, it sure beats talking to your dead brother…”

Tommy can no longer see up over the grave.  So he stops.  He claws his way out and finds Wilbur exactly as he left him.  He didn’t expect anything different, but still, the sight of him comes as a disappointment.  He looks no less dead in the sun, skin a sickly white, eyes finally closed, there is no way for Tommy to ignore the blood soaking his chest.  Tommy stands slowly.  He stares, as if expecting Wilbur to move.  To sit up, to say something terrible or something kind, but of course he doesn’t move.  He’s dead.

Tommy wants to shout at his brother.  He wants to scold him for abandoning them, to ask him why? 

“Don’t… don’t bother talking to ‘im, alright?  However much you want to, there’s no point.  He’s… he can’t fucking hear you.  Not like he… not like he ever listened anyway…”

Tommy puts his weary body through one last torment.  He slowly picks up the body, struggling under the weight of it, and despite knowing Wilbur isn’t here, he still tries to be gentle.  He turns to the beautifully dug grave, and he stops.  His whole body hurts.  He doesn’t know how much longer he can bear the weight of it.  Tommy falls to his knees.  He still holds on.  He sits back and holds his dead brother close, hugging him tightly, even as he no longer settles right in Tommy’s arms.

“I don’t… I don’t want to let go… I don’t want to let him go… I don’t– oh, fuck, Wil, I don’t know how to do this!  Please!  Please, I don’t know how to fucking do this!”

There is no reply.

Holding him feels wrong.  He’s so stiff and he smells like gunpowder and dying and cigarettes, but not even 24 hours ago this had been his big brother.  This had been everything he had tried to save, just like that crater over the hillside.

Tommy needs to bury him.  He doesn’t want to wait for him to rot.

“I don’t… I don’t wanna bury him, though…”

Silence.  Perhaps for too long, but finally, Tommy speaks again.

“Right.  Okay, you… next thing you gotta do, is you gotta get up.  You don’t… you don’t fucking drop him in the grave, you put him down next to the grave.  And… and you hop down in it for him, got it?”

As always, he goes through the doorway first, as always, he beckons his brother through, impatient like only a little brother can be.  He pulls Wilbur into the grave with him, and places him gently on the ground.  Maybe he should have brought a blanket.  Or even a flag to cover him.  It’s too late for that now.  What’s done is done, and Tommy doesn’t think he can go back at this point.  If he walks away now, he won’t be able to return to finish the job.

“You… you put him down, real careful like.  A-And you put something with him.  If you can.  You give him a blanket or a flag or– or something important.”  Another heavy pause.  “If you… if you can…”

Tommy climbs out of the grave.  Wilbur does not follow.

“Oh, now we’re getting to the big stuff, lads!  That was just the… just the prep work.  Now we get to the actual burying bit!  Straight forward, really.  You do what you did with your shovel before, just in reverse.”  Tommy takes up his shovel again.  “A-And we don’t look down, got it?  We… we don’t look.”

He does not look down as he buries him.  He just keeps going until the earth is gone, and when he turns to look, it’s like he’s still expecting to see him.  He still thinks he should see his brother there, but there is only the earth.

“He’s buried.  You did it.  Well done,” he says weakly.  “But… but you’re not done yet,” he sniffs and wipes his eyes.  “Dunno about your brother, but my big brother doesn’t deserve an unmarked grave.”  Tommy gets out a large flat stone.  “Dunno what he deserves, but it’s not that…” He mumbles.

Tommy drags a large, flat stone over the freshly turned earth.  He hunches over it, a mess of mud and sweat and day old blood, and he scratches out his name.  That is as far as he gets.  Wilbur Soot.

“Put something nice on it.  Something special along with their name.”

Tommy doesn’t know what else to say.  Nothing would be fair, nor good enough, nor bad enough, for everything his brother is.  Was.

“That’s… that’s all it takes.  You bury him.  Only thing left to do is…” Tommy stares down at his grave.  He cannot say it.  Only thing left to do is leave.

Nonetheless, he does not stay.  He stands, leaning on his shovel, so weighted with exhaustion.  But he still goes back down the hill, to where Tubbo so many others have started to piece the world back together again.  He leaves Wilbur behind and joins them.

[50cal-fullauto-astarion]

please please please stallard x ghost and the "Aww, love you too." prompt🙏🙏🙏

LOVE YOU SO SO SO SO POWERFUL MUCH. 🥹🥹🥹

Simon "Ghost" Riley x f!OC / Simon doesn't know where to go when he detoxes. It makes him crawl back to an old flame, and he sweats out addiction and ugliness.

TW's: drug withdrawal, mentions of violent infanticide.

The fevers go by in spikes of blurred dreams. This is where Ghost would die, if he was done paying for all the shit he's done. Figures it's owed, his soul's in the red, and deep in the shit. Course, he wouldn't be lucky enough to die detoxing off pills.

It's the dog legs of July, 2012. World was supposed to end a month ago. It didn't. Now he's sweating out his demons in Stallard's guest bedroom. The guest bedroom in the house she shares with her husband.

That's right. She's no longer Stallard, is she? She's Graves. Saeda Graves.

It's hard to keep that in mind when he wants to shred his skin to get the goddamned bugs out from under it. When all his bones ache the same as trees turned tinder by nuclear blast radii.

And the fucking hallucinations. Christ. He can't escape Tommy's son. Can't see his fuckin' face, no, but he can see his little socked feet. Can see his bloody chest rising and falling. Can hear his death rattle. Over there, just under the dresser.

Falls out the bed, tryin' to get to him. Cracks his temple off the corner of the nightstand, busts his chin on the hardwood.

Stallard isn't there one moment, and then she is, over the span of a blink--one that lasts ten minutes when his pounding heart demands unconsciousness, because his brain can't decide which panicking bodily system is most deserving of attention and correction, when it is too far burnt down to even regulate itself.

"Christ, Simon," she mumbles, crouching, and there was a time, years ago, when he'd grab her hips, and drag her over his face, as if forcing her into a saddle. "Split your fuckin' head open. The fuck're you doin', man?" she asks, more herself than him.

"Shut th'fuck up," he says, or he thinks he does. If it fell out of his mouth, she had the grace he's never possessed in his life to ignore it. Just hooks her arms under his pits, and hoists him back in the bed.

The moment he hits the sweaty sheets, his brain pulls a hard left. His nephew is gone, the death rattle is gone, the smell of blood in the air--gone, gone, fucking gone. His head is spinning, and he feels spiders crawling across his skin, and his brain is burning, cooking, broiling to death in his battered skull.

Stallard: gone again, back again, and, now, she's cleaning up his forehead, pulling it back together where it split. She seals it shut with super glue, an old trick he remembers she'd picked up from the Rangers.

"Stop," he grunts, trying to push at her hands, but she ducks and bites his little finger. A nip sharp enough to drop his hands, and he remembers that, too. She picked that up from farriers working on horses that bit at their shoulders and asses--just bite the fuckers back, make them stop.

"Dumb bastard," she says under her breath, and she focuses in his eyes.

He's missed her. He's always fucking missed her, and he remembers everything about what they had. The way her hair felt sliding through his hands, black as pitch. The elastic lines around her mouth as she smiled. How her eyes would return to him when he spoke, when her mind was years and years behind them, before she had gotten the bulk of her tragedies out of the way.

There was a wedding portrait in the hall on the way to this guest room. She--she looked fucking awful. Her wedding was not hers, and he can tell without asking how it went down. He hated her dress, and her veil, and her bouquet, and her short fucking, shit-grinning groom.

He hates this house. He hates her last name. He hates that she didn't somehow know to fucking wait for him.

He hates that even if she did, he couldn't have done shit-all about actually marrying her.

"I hate you," he croaks, staring hard into her eyes as she fusses over him, and her hands still. Her gaze zeroes in, wide and hurt, and he continues to drill into those gray-green eyes. And he likes it. He likes that he's wounded her in her big, fancy house, with that big, ugly ring on her finger. He just don't know, though, he don't understand just how fucking bad it is under this roof. "Fuckin' hell, I hate you."

A huge sigh heaves her chest, and she shakes her head, capping the super glue as her eyes flicker away. "Aw. Love you, too," she says, but the tone of her joke is flat, carries on without heart to back it up.

His mouth staggers away without his control after a few moments of floating, paint-smear silence, and his voice almost cracks when he insists, "Shouldn't have married him, Saeda."

"Yeah, well." Her fingers worry the two gold necklaces around her throat, all of her little gold crosses, the chintzy yellow gold and opal ring he scrimped and scraped and save to buy her a lifetime ago. "Woulda been you, if you hadn't'a fuckin' died, Simon."

The silence rings in his ears. Imagines it rings in hers as well.

She picks her ass up off the bed, pulls a pack of cigarettes out of her back pocket, and lights one. After she takes a drag, she puts it to his lips, giving him a sorely needed hit of nicotine. Another little mercy of hers, caring for him, even when he is wrong. And he is wrong to and about her so fucking often.

[krikeymate]

Imagine: the core 4 is out on a hot day and they are just having fun around town

Mindy and chad are debating over something and sam doesn’t see tara anymore

She cant find her and eventually she hears crying

She finds tara crying and someone had made fun of taras scars since she was wearing a cropped shirt because of the weather. Her eyes look so sad

😟

Sam feels like she only turned around for a second, and then Tara was gone. That girl, she sighs. Maybe she should get the leash out after all. Tara likes crowds as little as she does, and she knows how anxious it makes her when she disappears like this, so she doesn't understand why she still does it.

She wanders back to The Twins splashing each other in the fountain, alongside several children, to let them know she's going off to search for their wayward companion. They wave her off, too busy in their water-based war. She hopes Chad will reign Mindy's competitiveness in. She's not getting involved if Mindy's caught publically feuding with a child again.

The sun beats down harshly, skin prickling under the heat. It's the kind of sensation Tara loves, but Sam can't stand it. She'd rather be inside lying in the dark, than out here, tanktop soaked with sweat and eyes burning even behind her sunglasses.

But she'd seen the way Tara looked longingly at the crowds outside enjoying the sun, and just known her plans for the day were ruined. So here she is, outside for Tara, and the girl is nowhere to be found.

If she went to get ice cream and didn't get one for Sam, she's going to be pretty upset.

She wanders past a couple of teenagers sniggering about... a girl with scars? She spins on her heel in an instant, slamming one of them against the tree they're leaning on. Turns out she doesn't have to worry about Mindy making a scene after all.

"The fuck did you just say," she growls at the kid, their feet barely touching the ground as she holds them aloft.

"Woah, hey-"

She ignores their companion.

"You think there's something ugly about scars? How about I give you a few of your own?!"

The boy is shaking like a leaf in her grip, spluttering.

"She got them fighting for her life, which is more than you'll ever achieve!"

She drops him to the floor, stepping her booted foot between his legs, a silent threat.

"Where the fuck is she?"

The boy points a quivering finger to the benches by the pond. Sam side-eyes the boys companion, a pathetic excuse for a friend given how easily he stood back with nary a word of protest. She makes a small lunge at him, enjoying the way he trips over his feet as he jumps backwards.

She finds her sister curled up on a bench, body hidden behind her legs and watching the ducks.

"I've been looking for you," she murmurs, plonking herself down beside her sister and throwing a sweaty arm over her shoulder.

Tara wrinkles her nose, trying to shake the arm off. "Sorry," she mutters, not looking her way.

"So, what're we doing over here? If you wanted to see the ducks, you could have just told me."

"I-" Tara bites her lip, glancing at Sam's feet. "It was just... a lot. More than I expected. Being..."

"Seen?"

Tara looks up, meeting Sam's eyes. She swallows.

"Some losers said something, huh?" Sam asks, the answer already known to her. She watches her sister blink back some tears, her head jolting forward in a nod.

Sam pulls her into her side. "They're just jealous they're not as pretty as you." Tara snorts, sniffling into Sam's shoulder.

"That's not-"

"True? Mmm, that's not an argument you're gonna win babygirl, don't try me." When Tara doesn't respond, Sam continues. "I set them straight anyway, and I'll beat up anyone who has something to say about your scars."

Tara sits up. "Wait, Sam, what did you-"

"So let's go get some ice cream," Sam says, loudly, speaking over her sister. She stands up, holding out a hand for her.

"Ice cream," she reiterates, brow twitching at Tara as if daring her to question her.

Tara squints at her, considering her options, but eventually, she reaches out and lets herself be pulled up from the bench.

Sam doesn't let go of her hand as she pulls them in the direction of the van.

"Should we get some for Mindy and Chad?"

"Nah, what they don't know won't hurt them," Sam jokes, knocking her shoulder against Tara's. The laugh she gets back makes braving the sun worth it. She'll do anything to keep hearing it.

[madphantom]

Susan's Hell Sprint snippet number 2 let's go

Log of Susan Adams, written December 1st, 1973 (cont'd)

I woke up alone in the living room. The light was still on and bathing the place in a soft, warm light. I was still in a half sleep drunken haze, and despite the fact that my neck hurt from falling asleep on the couch, I was oddly comfortable there. I slid down, curled up, and was just about to drift off again when I suddenly heard an ugly scraping sound, like nails against glass.

I opened my eyes. Suddenly I was wide awake. My heart was racing. The sound had been right behind me.

When I turned around I saw something red softly sway behind the window.

“Hello?”, I whispered, my voice cracking in fear. “Who's there?”

Nothing. No answer. The swaying continued.

I slowly got up and turned towards the window, pushing the photographs off my knees. Through the dust it was hard to see a thing. I could make out a vaguely humanoid silhouette, but it was upside down. Everything inside me was screaming not to open that window, but once I had begun to move, I couldn't stop myself.

The handle was cold beneath my fingers. The paint peeled off in tiny white chips. I twisted the handle and with a creak, the window opened.

A woman was hanging upside down in the apple tree and staring at me with wide open green eyes, her burnt cindered face twisted into a grotesque, horrifying grin. Her long matted, crispy hair rustled in the breeze like dry leaves and she was gently swaying back and forth. The wind played with her dress - her beautiful, burning, blood red dress.

I woke up with a scream. It was pitch dark. The wind whistled around the house and the tree scraped against the walls like an animal begging to be let inside. My heart was racing. Before I knew what I was doing, my shaking hands dialed the number on the piece of paper Rory had given me. Tears were streaming down my face. I felt like I was eight again, except this time around there was no Aunt Dot who could come in and save the moment. Aunt Dot was dead and I was alone and that horrifying vision of the woman in red could not and would not leave my mind. It was burned into the insides of my eyelids.

When Rory picked up he sounded surprisingly awake. “Hello?”

“Hi, it's Susan.” I fumbled with the telephone cable. “I, uh, I had a nightmare.”

“Oh, dear. I could be over in, say, twenty minutes? Can you manage that long?”

“Yeah.” My voice was quiet.

“Great. See you then.”

“Thank you.”

The quiet beep beep after he ended the call brought me back to reality. I shivered and curled up on the sofa. My heart was racing. I wanted to get out of here, out of here, out of here.

Something rustled in the leaves outside the window. I flinched, closed my eyes tight. Go away. Go away. GO AWAY.

I heard a scream under my window and for a split second I thought it was a woman and my heart skipped a beat, until I realized it was a fox. The animal hissed. Snarled. For a few moments it was quiet.

“Oh, fuck right off,” I heard a familiar voice call outside, followed by something rustling in the thickets in front of the window.

So there was something there.

The doorbell went off. I took a deep breath. Then I jumped to my feet, and without looking at the window behind me, I raced downstairs, trying my best to ignore imaginary faces grinning at me from the floral wallpapers. GET AWAY FROM ME.

I opened the door and sobbing, collapsed into Rory's arms. I tried to say something, explain how terrified I'd been, but I couldn't even speak.

“Oh my god,” he just whispered reassuringly and ran a hand through my hair. “That bad?”

I nodded. Sobs were shaking me. Rory closed the door behind himself.

“Shh, it's alright,” he whispered, but I could feel he was tense. And when I finally gathered myself enough to take a step back and a deep breath, I realized why. On his thigh, concealed as well as possible by the leather jacket he'd hastily tied around his waist, was a massive gash, and fresh red blood had just begun to seep into the fabric of his jeans.

[branwendaughterofllyr]

OMG your post about BNFs. The ASOIAF Meta-Writing Industrial Complex by people who have no fucking clue is one of the funniest aspects of the ASOIAF fandom. Although, I will say, I take a sadistic pleasure in going back and reading hot takes from some Dani stans and seeing that all those blogs are now defunct or deactivated because they obviously saw the writing on the wall after the GOT finale and have fucked off to antagonize another fandom. What DOES still boggle my mind are the few stragglers who are still on tumblr and writing their "metas" about how Dani is a savior and the books will end with Jon3rys marriage, on the IT, with their ugly pale haired kids for that Targ Restoration. Like, how is it almost 2023 and people are still tripling down on this. It's actually embarrassing to read. People really read shit like "mother of monsters, what have I unleashed on the word...bride of fire....daughter of death....you will know three treasons...and my flesh will feed the wolves and carrion crows and worms will burrow in my womb" and they're like, "Yes, this means Dani is the savior of all humanity and a Disney ending with Jonerii on the IT is imminent per GRRM's endgame." The definition of "this sign won't stop me because I can't read" lmao.

The meta-writing industrial complex… anon, your mind!

The most viscious insult you can lob at anyone in the ASOIAF fandom is “you clearly have no basic reading comprehension” and boy do a lot of these people lack even the basic principles of literary analysis.

I remember back in the day lovingly explaining the difference between parallels and foils, because so many of the antis couldn’t tell the difference.

The ASOIAF Meta-Writing Industrial Complex was all too real, and it produced some of the most hilarious takes ever seen by man. No one has ever looked deeper than the surface and everyone is locked tight in the POV trap. Unreliable narrator, who? What do you mean there’s subversion????? The definition of missing the forest for the trees over there, focusing on the tiniest details while ignoring major motifs. We NEED to uncover the truth about lemon trees in Braavos! Ignore Dany’s ramblings about fire and blood, and burning people alive, I’m sure it’s fine. 🥰

And this isn’t even talking about the weird spirals that everyone kept having about Azhor Ahai and Bloodraven. It was really weird. Really weird

I very happily danced on the grave of jonerys, and I would do it again! The fact that anyone denies Dark!Dany in the year 2022 of our lord and savior George Reorge Rartin Martin is truly the great mystery of our age.

[duckingwriting]

WIP Wednesday

Another bit from my ABO Avatar fanfiction. This will be right after the first one I did, when Jake and Tsu’tey’s argument is interrupted by Jake’s link being broken. Reminder that this fic was started before the second movie came out, takes place during the first, and honestly will probably ignore the second movie altogether. 

Pairings - JakeXTsu’tey

Warnings- None for this part, fic as a whole - Dubcon, sex, ABO dynamics 

Jake woke up in the link unit gasping. He could hear sharp words and feel firm hand grabbing his shoulders, pulling him up into a sitting position so he wouldn't choke as bile flooded his mouth. Jake's throat burned as he heaved into the bucket he had thrust into his chest.

"Easy, Marine." Grace's voice finally cut through the static of Jake's mind from the forceful link break.

"What the fuck, Doc?" Jake wheezed before going into another coughing fit and spilling more bile from his empty stomach.

"Bureaucratic bullshit." Grace huffed.

"Long story short, you've been MIA and in link long enough some are suggesting you've been kidnapped and are attempting to use it as an excuse to launch an attack on home tree." Norm rushed the words out with wide eyes.

"Tried telling them you aren't at home tree but they won't listen to me." Grace rolled her eyes. "As if I haven't been there trying to help them find your dumbass. So marine where did you get lost at so we can get your avatar before something else does?"

"I didn't get lost." Jake snapped. The kidnapping claim curled ugly in his gut and he worried he would loos more than stomach acid for a moment. "I went into heat."

There were barks of laughter around him and Jake glared while a hand slapped his shoulder.

"Just tell me where you're stuck at, Marine. I promise not to laugh too much." Grace grinned. "Betas don't have heats."

"I'm a beta." Jake glared at the woman. "But Tommy was an omega."

Jake watched with satisfaction as realization crossed the faces surrounding him.

"Where is your avatar, Jake?"  Grace was pale when she asked. Tommy would have been on suppressants. Since it was always one avatar to one driver, a beta driver for an omega avatar had never come up.

"I'm not sure." Jake flinched. He wasn't sure if he wanted to admit that he had been at the tree of voices. "I was with Tsu'tey. I have to go back in."

"No. Tsu'tey will at least ensure your avatar is safe, if not bring it back to home tree." Grace held up her hand to stop Jake's protests. "You can fill in Max  so we can prevent this from happening in the futre. For now take care of this body. I'll talk to Natyti to get your avatar back to home tree or base."

"But-" jake could still feel the curl of his, the not his, alpha's command though it wasn't as pressing in this body. 

"Even if your heat isn't finished." Grace was moving to her own link. "Tsu'tey is too honorable to take advantage."

"I-"

"Don't let him link back in," Grace commanded. "Put a lock on his chair if you have to."

Jake huffed a breath, ignoring the uncomfortable way his chest tightened as he pulled himself into his chair.

"I don't remember much." Jake tipped his head back to stare at the bright lab lights. "But I don't think Tsu'tey was as opposed to fucking me as Grace thinks."

Max and Norm froze, looking at each other then Jake with matching frowns.

"What do you mean?" Something in Norm's tone told Jake the other avatar driver knew exactly what he meant.

"I'm pretty sure we fucked. Maybe mated." Jake chased the foggy memories in his mind. If he was honest he wasn't sure how reliable his memories were.

"...I hope not." Norm's voice was soft and his gaze full of pity. "Na'vi mate for life."

Jake's laugh was forced even to his own ears. "I'm probably wrong. After all I'm just a dumb jar head. Probably missed something."

No one pointed out that despite all Norm's studying, it was Jake not Norm who was one of the people.

I fucked up Jake thought as he began eating what was put in front of him without tasting it. His gaze went out the window as he tried to force his mind to go blank.

[rjalker]

ahaha I forgot the internet stopped working last night so instead of live blogging The Dragonriders of Pern I just started leaving snarky notes

most notable of which is simply, "Will you shut the fuck up, Anne?"

in response to this:

Lord Toric heard about the attempted intrusion and smiled.

It amused him that more people were illegally attempting to invade the south - so long as they kept away from his zealously guarded holding - and ignoring the Benden Weyrleaders’ edict that immigration must be to sites they had approved. That only verified to Toric that the Weyrleaders were indeed keeping the best sites for the dragonriders. He was hoping that some of the tries would succeed if only to prove that people could survive very well, thank you, wherever they were willing to work hard enough to “hold”. It didn’t matter to Toric that these would-be settlers could die from sampling exotic-looking and sweet-smelling tree fruits, that there were hungry and feral beasts quite able to take down a full-grown adult, that there were the most insidious dangers from thorn-poisoning and fevers. Toric’s notion was that the strong survived and if the unfit died, they merited no mourning. What irked him most was that the Benden Weyrleaders felt they had the right to apportion the south where they wished to bestow it. Just because they’d found some document that told how the Ancients had dealt with settling. Land was held by those strong enough to hang on to it and improve it.

And then there was that infamous meeting of Weyrleaders and Lords Holder - which he had been unable to attend while he was involved with ousting the renegade Denol from lerne Island. That’s when all those old-womanish Lords had actually established that the dragonriders had the right to control the Southern Continent land grabbings. “Out of respect for the services dragonriders have given Hold and Hall over the centuries of Threadfall.” As if tithing to support the indolent riders hadn’t been reward enough for dragons doing what they had been bred to do. Much less the gratuities which had always been lavished on dragonriders.

If I were a character in a Dragonriders of Pern story I'd be the disgusting ugly cripple queer who hates dragonriders and has evil monologues about how wrong I am even though I'm literally right.

Like:

It didn’t matter to Toric that these would-be settlers could die from sampling exotic-looking and sweet-smelling tree fruits, that there were hungry and feral beasts quite able to take down a full-grown adult, that there were the most insidious dangers from thorn-poisoning and fevers.

Excuse me Anne can you please shut the fuck up? Will you please shut up?

Just shut up lol.

She's literally just making up fake dangers that literally do not exist when the Good Guys are on screen to pretend that letting poor people build homes for themselves is BAD, actually, clearly they should all be enslaved and spend the rest of their lives underground in a mine until they die!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Like she went on and on about how dangerous firehead was when Jaxom caught it......and then never brought it up again even when the characters should have been highly worried about it.

But no.

it stops existing as soon as it's no longer needed for the plot.

But now she's claiming to be bringing it back -- along with a bunch of other random new danger she's pulled out of a hat -- so that she can pretend tht not letting homeless people have homes and then enslaving them when they try to build one for themselves is actually for their own good and not just........rampant and blatant classism and ensuring that the status quo remains in place.

[inquisimer]

Happy DADWC-versary! in honor of that, I'm here to hurt you. For Siobhan/Loghain, " sometimes, i just need the world to be beautiful. i know how dark and ugly it can be but i just want to see something good and focus only on it for a few minutes." (from the it's all about the yearning prompts)

thank you kia!! but joke's on you, you came to hurt me and I wrote them being somft :3 some pre-relationship/developing relationship for Siobhan/Loghain tonight

for @dadrunkwriting

~~~

“I would prefer to stay in the city,” Siobhan huffed. The warden ignored her, continuing his trajectory up the Wounded Coast and leaving her no choice but to follow.

“You’ve not left the city in weeks.” A low-hanging branch blocked their path forward and Loghain ducked beneath it. He held it back for her to pass, holding her eyes as she did so.

“And what of it? There’s little else holding the city together, these days.”

“You cannot hold the city together if you fall apart yourself.”

Siobhan glowered at him. “That won’t be an issue.”

“Won’t it?” With a thoughtful hum, Loghain dipped from the main path and forded along a trail of recently broken ferns and shrubbery. Siobhan followed, an irksome itch crawling beneath her skin.

“Of course not,” she told his stubborn back. “Kirkwall hasn’t broken me yet and it’s not about to now.”

They slipped past a sharp outcropping of dark stone and Siobhan blinked against the sudden burst of crimson and orange across her face. A shadow fell across her adjusting eyes as Loghain leaned against the stone and faced her with a furrowed brow.

She looked away, if only to hide from the intensity of his gaze. They were on a tiny shelf of rocky sand, tucked away from the casual onlooker by well-grown trees and sea-worn stone. It was not the kind of place you stumbled upon by accident. Out here, Siobhan felt naked, stripped of her city, the brick and buildings she’d woven into armor over the years.

“The city will not break you,” said Loghain, gently handing her the heavy words one by one, “but your love for it will.”

Siobhan tensed, hackles raising fully, but the warden held a hand up against her angry defense.

“Have you loved a city to the point of destruction, my lady?” He raised one sharp eyebrow. “A country? Because I have. And I’ve mellowed enough under my Tainted leash to recognize the signs.”

Siobhan’s jaw snapped shut so fast her teeth clicked together.

She watched his back as he gave it to her, walking to the very edge of the sand and staring out at the setting sun. She expected a lecture, a listing of ways she’d fucked up or misstepped or could have done much better. She’d certainly heard enough of them, and told as many to herself.

Instead, the former teryn held out one gauntleted hand for her to take. He guided her to his side, then dropped her hand to gesture at the horizon.

“It is easy to get caught up in it all. And even when you remember the good in the world, the ugly and the dark is a constant presence.”

He clasped his hands at the small of his back. “Sometimes, you have to force yourself to look at something beautiful, even if you don’t think it’s necessary. Caught up in the details that need to be tended, you can miss the crumbling of the bigger picture.”

Siobhan inhaled deeply, nostrils flaring. She stared across the sea and let the half-vanished sun sear itself against her eyes. It blinded her vision and she let that purge her mind; tension she had forgotten she was holding seeped from her back, her neck, her shoulders.

Oh, but she’d forgotten, in her frenzy to glue her fractured city back together, how easily the darkness snaked into her own cracks. She closed her eyes and looked at the glare against her eyelids and let herself enjoy the warmth of the sun against her skin.

When she opened them, Loghain was looking directly at her.

“Sometimes you have to look at something beautiful, no?” she said with a teasing lilt.

His gaze never wavered, just inclined his head without looking away.

“Sometimes,” he agreed.

[doctormomwriter]

New Look

Aizawa x OC Smut (filth)

Small plot because for some reason I am unable to write smut without a little background. Biggest lie I told myself...

Warning: Sexual Content, Rough, Sweet, Dirty Talking Sex

Ivy and Aizawa must come to terms with secrets, feelings, and how to go on teaching like nothing ever happened.

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Part 1: Glitter Boy and The Ugly Witch

It all started with a small prank. Teaching a bunch of future pro heroes science was difficult. They never seemed to be interested in my lessons, only about the hell that would be reigned down upon them by Aizawa during his class periods with them. I learned the keep their attention by arranging small pranks on my favorite, sleepy coworker. For the last few weeks, I had hid glitter bombs in Aizawa's desk. Three of them that would go off at the perfect moment. I told the class if they all passed their midterm assignments, then I would shower Mr. Aizawa with glitter in the middle of his lecture. Their grades were all above passing. I had never been so proud and so nervous in my life. I was really hoping for one failing grade so that I could back out before I was in too deep. I am a woman of my word though.

I peeked in Aizawa's window and flipped a small switch and without failure, all of the glitter bombs popped in unison. He did not say anything. The class burst into laughter and his eyes flashed at the doorway where he caught me red handed. I bolted to my office and immediately began planning my apology.

The day dragged on as I taught the next two classes. One of my students asked why I looked sickly, like I had seen a ghost. I nonchalantly admitted that if Mr. Aizawa catches me today, I would be a ghost! Thankfully the purple haired kid did not seem to have the energy to probe me for more information. Five o'clock came sooner today than any other day. It was time to face the music. Aizawa and I always had a unique way of speaking to each other. Small jokes at one anothers expence, followed by "I am only kidding" and visiously looking away from each other.

I walked outside and put on my lab coat that I always wore over my dress clothes. I was always afraid that my clothes were too tight or not professional enough so I bypassed the dresscode by wearing a lab coat nearly all the time. I am not sure really anyone knew what I looked like underneath except Nemuri. Midnight was my best friend and had seen me in everyway, unfortunately. She always laughed when we would go out in our group of friends and I would still be in this damn coat. Rain or shine. Hot or cold. I was covered neck, to wrist, to ankle.

"You fucking bitch! I need them to focus! They are literally training for their lives!" Aizawa pushed passed Mic and made a bee-line for me. I hid between Nemuri and the tree they were surrounding.

"I am sorry! It was to motivate them to pass my exam!" I winced and giggled. "They passed." I shrugged.

"I don't know if your quirk has something to do with childish bullshit or maybe you're just one of those quirkless assholes with a hobby, but it does not mean you have to look and act like a big, ugly, witch!" Aizawa looked like he immediately regretted his words, but I did not care. That hurt.

"I..I'm sorry." I felt like I was going to puke.

"Wait... do you not have a quirk?" Mic chimed in. Everyone ignored him.

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Part 2: Who Let the Girls Out?

I snuck off to my apartment quickly. An hour or so later, Midnight knocked on my door. My face had been burried in my pillow, soaked with tears. I felt like a teenager. Did he really see me as big and ugly? I could not lie to myself about it, I had the biggest crush on Aizawa since we met. Every social gathering left the two of us together as wall flowers and we joked around and talked about our lives and it became a beautiful friendship. Until I ruined it..

"Ivy girl, you have to get up.. he did not mean it like that!" Midnight put a loving hand on my shoulder.

"I am not sure why it hurt.." I tried not to look at her. I was still red from tears.

"Because you like him." She said in a sing songy way.

"I do not! We are just friends." I almost shouted at her, but my voice cracked at the lie.

"You have to get up, we are having All Might's birthday party at Siripico's Bar and you know what that meansssss!" She held a finger under my chin that forced me to look up at her.

"It means I have to go and face Aizawa like the fat, ugly, witch I am?" I smirked and wiped my face from the tears. "I am going to sit this out, take Toshinori my gift please." I flopped back into the bed.

"No, do not make me knock you out and dress you up the hard way." Midnight tugged at her sleeve with a devilish grin.

My brown eyes flashed a matte gold color and my hair fell down from my messy bun. I smirked as I summoned my closet doors open so hard the room shook.

"God, I love it when you use magic!" She giggled and rummaged through my closet. Flinging dresses out left and right.

"Oh honey, none of this will work. You have to have on a dress that goes with heels!" She pulled out my old hero costume and flung it on the bed. "What about this?" She gave me an evil smile.

"You know good and well, I am never going to wear that again. My pro days are over, that is why I teach science." I held the weathered fabric in my hand. My touch made it flow back to a dark black again.

No one knew but Midnight and Nezu. No one was allowed to know about "Hecate: The Witch Hero." She disappeared about the same time Ivy moved to Osaka City to teach young heroes science...harmless science. I remembered how I looked though. Much like Midnight. Tall and curvy, my dark wine colored hair, long and wild with curles and narcisus flowers accentuated my black dress that resembled an Greecian robe. Long slits up from the ankle to my hips on each side. 'Cleavage and legs for days' is what Nemuri called it when I showed her pictures.

"No one will know if you keep your normal face on." She waved her hand in front of my face. I took a breath and changed my eye color back to brown and my hair seemed to not be so wild anymore. "Plus, you are not wearing your moon horn head piece and eye makeup. No one will know... come on!! This is sexy as hell."

I began to ponder the idea and grabbed my lab coat like a security blanket. She snatched it from me.

"If you even think about wearing this thing, I will knock you out and tape you to the flag pole...naked..." She licked her lips.

"You pervert. I love you, you silly goose. Fine.." I admitted defeat.

We got dressed together at her apartment. She had to approve my makeup and lend me a pair of heels. We took goofy pictures like always. One of them was a little riske'. Midnight jokingly put her hand around my throat while we were in our bras and panties. Our tongues were sticking out as our faces nearly touched.

"You better delete that one!" I grabbed for the phone. Too late.

"Nemuri!! Tell me you did not send that to Hizashi... please.. tell me you did not!" I was so embarrassed but the damage was already done. We finished getting ready and ordered a ride to take us to the bar.

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Part 3: Look at This Photograph

"Holy shit!" Mic blushed at the photo and immediately texted back. "Yes Ma'ams!" to Midnight's picture. They had a friends with benefits thing going on that know one is supposed to know about, but everyone knows about it.

"What?" Aizawa spat in the sink and whiped the toothpaste foam from his lips.

"Don't mind me, looking to score twice tonight." Mic slid the phone to Aizawa and his face turned red. Mostly from anger.

"Like Ivy would even dream of you touching her." He coughed and rolled his eyes. Closing the bathroom door to breath and prevent his semi from becoming more than that.

Aizawa and Mic had a long conversation while they waited for time to get ready for the party. Mic explained that calling a woman "fat and ugly" even as a joke or retaliation is bad. Aizawa scoffed and while he knew Mic was right about that, he did not want to admit fault. Eventually they dropped the conversation when Mic mentioned to Aizawa that while no one had really seen my body not covered by work clothes and a lab coat, I had a pretty face and a great personality and that is all the mattered. Aizawa added in how intelligent I was and then began talking about training with his class.

"I just find it funny that you think Ivy would not jump on this dick if I gave her the option." Mic prodded as they were walking out the door. Aizawa clenched the keys in his hand to avoid feeling the rage that boiled in his bloodstream. "Could you imagine what her face looks like when she is going down... do you think she keeps her glasses on? Do you think her tits are that big out side of the pic.." Aizawa pushed Mic into the hallway wall.

"Shut up. Gentleman's agreement like old times? Keep your hands and eyes off of Ivy. No questions asked." Aizawa was so harsh with those words.

"See.. I knew you liked her." Mic fixed his jacket and they got in the car without another word.

Mic sent a text to Nemuri. "Finally he admits it." She responded with a thumbs up emoji.

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Party 4: Lights Out, Drinks Up

I stepped out of the Uber and Nemuri pulled me in for a picture outside the bar's neon signage. We both looked hot. I felt naked without my coat, but it was time to feel confident after being knocked down to nothing this afternoon. We ordered a drink and mingled. All Might was huge and muscular like normal, his yellow suit traded out for a crisp plum color one with a black tie and belt. His shoes were so shiny they looked like wet paint. He hugged us so tight. He was so wholesome. Fawning over how beautiful I looked, he even whispered in my ear that confidence looked so beautiful on me. He also whispered something about beating the boys off of me with a stick if I needed. He was so kind. I adored that man for more than his hero work.

"This drink is strong, but I need another." I shouted to Midnight over the music but she was too busy making googoo eyes at Mic.

I flagged the bartender down, but he had already handed me a drink. A flaming orange concoction. He pointed to man at he end of the bar and winked. I blew out the fire and took the shot before turning around. My eyes grew wide like saucers when I saw the brooding Endeavor sitting down on a stool that looked way to small to hold him. His suit was black and his shirt a crisp white. His tie was one of those fancy paisley patterns with a sterling silver clip. I smiled and decided I should probably say thank you for the drink. I walked over and reheared a small talk starter in my head.

"Thank you, Endeavor." I was going to leave it at that.

He placed his hand on the counter and bartender ran 4 more flaming shots in front of us.

"You're not going to make me drink alone, huh? It's Enji outside of work by the way." He pushed a shot to me.

"I guess one more won't hurt... Enji.." I smiled.

I took the shot down. I didnt even blow out the flame that time.

"So... I have a question. Is there any particular reason you decided to dress like a fucking beauty queen tonight?" He took two shots back to back and passed me the last one.

Oh my god, was he hitting on me? Ew.. I teach one of his kids. My brain was not really thinking clearly anymore. The alcohol bubbling in my veins, my cheeks felt pink. I had to be careful or else I may forget to keep my quirk in check. I nonchalantly summoned the shot glass to my hand only a few inches so he would not notice.

"A shy girl, huh? No reason to be shy when you look like that. Although, I never really thought I would see that outfit out in the wild again. Hecate." He grabbed my hand firmly.

"What did you call me?" I giggled. He was bluffing. He did not really know.

"Do not play dumb with me.. You do not need to hide all that power from someone like me. I know all too well what it is like to have so much power and rarely get to use my full potential." He had pulled me close. Tucked my long curly hair behind my ear.

I was starting to panic now. I needed another drink. My mouth was dry. I pulled away but he pulled me back harder. My face smushed into his chest. He swayed to the music and kept his voice down low so I could hear him without anyone eavsdropping.

"I am just saying, imagine the legacy you and I could leave behind if you came out into the hero world. Not to mention, having this sweet ass and legs to look at on those lonely stake outs at night might ease the long hours... You could ease this long.." He stepped back a moment to see what had caught his attention. His foot suddenly slipped up into the air and he came crashing down to his ass.

I made my get away. I could not see what happened until the strobe lights flased on a silver grey cloth slinking away behind the bar and into Aizawa's suit pocket. My eyes trailed up to the man who was behind the prank.

When I made eye contact with him, he gave me a half smile. I had almost forgotten how badly he had hurt my feelings earlier. I turned around in embarrassment and unfortunately ran into a frustrated looking Endeavor.

"So you are just going to knock me off my feet and run away? Lucky for you, I like a challenge." He pulled me close to his chest again.

My eyes flashed back to Aizawa who was looking out of the corner of his eyes at us while he chatted with Vlad King. He looked angry. Did I really make him that angry? Maybe I should enjoy myself. Get a little flirty. Even if its with someone as disgusting as Endeavor.

"So, I do not want to disappoint you, but I am not who you think I am. I am just a science teacher." I shrugged.

"I am not dumb, Hecate. I have known since the moment I saw your face. Now that you're wearing your old dress, I confirmed it. What I cannot figure out is... why you are hiding? Who are you hiding from?" His face was so close to mine.

"I am not saying you are dumb, I am saying that..." A strong hand grabbed my shoulder. A forceful but careful pull, pulled me away from the firey man.

"We need to talk." Aizawa did not even bother to look at the angered Endeavor.

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Part 5: Time to Get Shit Faced.

Endeavor pulled me back to him and at that moment I ducked and side stepped to give space between us. Mic walked by with a tray of cosmo shooters and I grabbed two off and downed them. Hoping this would all go away when I opened my eyes. I was wrong, of course.

"Eraserhead, I did not peg you for the rude type. Ivy and I were just talking about how much we have in common." He winked at me.

"We don't have anything in common." I chimed in and it seemed like no one listened.

"Oh really, since when did she become a pretentious, fireball, asshole?" Aizawa flashed his eyes at Endeavor, watching the flames die down.

"To be fair you called me an asshole this morning." At this point, I swayed off without them noticing. I made my way to the bathroom as the alcohol started to really fuck with my senses. I have not drank this much in front of anyone but Midnight.

I texted Nemuri to come save me and decided to try to sober up some in the comfort of the bathroom stall. This felt gross.

Aizawa and Endeavor spent the next five minutes arguing before Aizawa noticed I was gone. They both blamed each other for my disappearance and Aizawa made a beeline for the hallway that led to the bathrooms and back door patio. I decided to stop hiding in the bathroom when I heard moaning in the stall beside me. That was my cue to leave. I needed fresh air. I opened the patio door and no one was there in my line of sight. I shut the door and sat in the chairs by the wall.

"Fuck.." I sighed.

"You wanna tell me what that was about?" Aizawa flicked a half smoked cigarette across the lot.

"Fuck!" I jumped up and immediately felt lightheaded. I sat down.

"I honestly have not a fucking clue." I covered my face and he down beside me.

"You're hanging out with Endeavor, that is...interesting." He lit another cigarette.

"Give me that...please" I pulled it from his fingers but it felt like they lingered on my hand for more than a normal amount of time.

I took a puff, I had not had a cigarette in forever. The last time was when Nemuri talked me into trying one of these special rainbow cigarettes that tasted like peppermint. I felt a rush as the nicotine flooded my system.

"I am not hanging out with him, he bought me a few drinks, made a pass at me which I declined, several times. He knows my secret..." I passed the cigarette back to Aizawa.

"Oh, okay. So you're not into...you're not interested in him?" He choked out. Pretending it was the cigarette making him choke.

"Of course not, he is gross. Not my type." I took the cigarette and took a long drag.

"Ha...and what is your type?" Aizawa raised an eyebrow.

We made eye contact for a moment and I could not make myself speak. I could not come clean. One part of me wanted to tell him that he was my type and the other part of me wanted to give a generic answer. Before I could open my mouth, the door crashed open and Endeavor and a waitress were entangled, making out loudly. He stopped when he saw me.

"Yeah, that is right. This could have been you. I could have fucked you stupid, Hecate." Endeavor turned back to the waitress who was stil gasping for air from the lip locking.

It's amazing how fast you sober up when you get hit with a blow of anxiety the size of a mountain. I bolted around the corner. Making it to the corner and trying to catch a taxi. I finally caught one and as I was about to shut the door, Aizawa slid in beside me. He handed a 50 to the driver and muttered an address.

"We need to talk." He looked at me harshly. I saw his eyes flash red and I pinched his thigh. He blinked before he had the chance to use his quirk on me.

"Not here." Thankfully he did not push.

We arrived at a small loft near UA. This was not my apartment... I guess it was his. He tipped the driver and we walked to the door. He grasped my hand and nearly dragged me inside.

"You do like him, why would you lie about that? You have a pet name? Why him? Why a fucking asshole like him? You are so smart and he's.." He looked at me so angry. His eyes flashed at me. His hair stood on end..

I let it happen. He watched as my skin tone grew paler and slightly glowing. My eyes turned from brown to gold and copper colored. My curls seemed to look bolder and less tamed. Large ringlets of wine colored locks. My lips turned from soft pink to the color of sugar plums in winter.

"What.." He relaxed his gaze. I kept my form.

"This is me.. the fat, ugly witch." A tear fell down my cheek. "When I was 20, a fairly young pro. I was Hecate. My quirk is witchcraft." I sighed again. "Endeavor figured it out and was trying to court me for breeding purposes. I dislike him. I promise."

Aizawa still did not say a work. He just looked at me. In a way he never really had before. There was so much awkward silence in the room, you could hear the neighbors across the street snoring.

"You're.." He took a long pause again.

"I am me, this is just an old part of me that I wanted to keep away from everyone. I am done being a pro.." I was teary eyed. Worried that he would ask why I hid this. Why I left a career I worked so hard to get..

"I just don't understand. How could I have been so blind not to see that..you're Hecate?" He walked towards me. Leaving little space between me and him. I backed up towards the door. My back nearly touching it.

"I am so...sorry." He whispered.

"For what?"

"For hurting your feelings... for calling you are quirkless normie.. for being awful tonight while you were just trying to have a good time." His hand rested on my shoulder. "Why would you hide this from us? No one would have cared." He chuckled.

"You never heard the story of how Hecate disappeared? My shame? You would not have cared about my failure as a hero? How I was tricked into killing someone...I am a witch by birth and by nature of my quirk. I swore to never do harm and I let a man....gain control of my body and use it for evil. I saw everything he did to my body and made my body do..I should have been put down like a rabid dog, Shouta." I was crying the type of way that makes you gasp for air. Tears streaming down my cheeks and down my neck.

"Ivy... I didn't..I had no idea. I promise. Even if I did, I would have never judged you for something that you did not do of your own volition." He wiped the tears from my eyes and held my face in his palms. "Then Endeavor kept talking about how our spawn would be powerful beings and it made me want to vomit, but I spent time with him to make you jealous and then.." His lips slowly pressed to mine.

He pulled away from me and tooks a few steps back.

"I am so sorry...I should have asked, but why did you want to make me jealous? You know what, it doesn't matter. Thank you for being honest with me. Want to go back to the party?" He was shaking his head in disbelief.

I felt my heart burst in my chest. How could he just kiss me and ask if I want to go to a party?! I wanted to be here. I needed some kind of explanation to his actions! I was hurt all over again. Maybe he just wanted to shut me up. Did it not matter at all that I wanted to make him jealous. Fuck this night.

"I...well, should we talk about what just happened?" I needed answers.

"Oh this?" Aizawa stepped forward as my back touched the door. He tilted my chin up and kissed me again. His fingers lightly moving my hair behind my ear and his palm cupping my jaw to hold me in place. He released after about a minute.

"Yes.. that." I felt so dizzy. Was I still drunk? Maybe a litte.

He locked the door and took my hand, pulling me on top of him on the couch. His hands moved around my waist as our lips connected again. Deeper this time. His tongue grazing my bottom lip after a soft bite. I whimpered into the kiss which triggered a low moan from him. I could feel his cock hard under his pants. If I could see myself, I am sure I was tomato red with anxiety.

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Chapter 6: Drunk In Love

"We should really go back to the party...don't you think?" Aizawa had his hand in my hair, a hard grip. Pulling me only an inch back from his lips.

I pouted.. he was right though. He pulled his phone from his pocket and showed me 37 missed texts from Hizashi. I slowly climbed off of his lap and my legs felt like they weighed 500 pounds. I was shivering at the loss of warmth between us.

"I have questions.." I whispered as he smirked and wiped my lipstick from his mouth. I blushed thinking I should probably touch myself up before we head back.

"I have answers." His voice fell lower in tone.

"I still have no idea what is going on in your head...was this just a one time.. tipsy..thing?" I walked closer to the door.

Aizawa stopped and narrowed his eyes at me. I could not tell if he was annoyed, amused, frustrated, or confused. I was confused. One minute his tongue is down my throat and the next he is rushing us back to a party. He walked towards me and rubbed my small lipstick smear from my chin. Pressing me back to the door. He kissed me softly. Trailing them down my neck.

"Oh fuck!" I cried out as his teeth bit into my tender skin. Right above my color bone. He lingered and pulled off of me.

"We go back, be polite friends, give our gifts, have a drink or two. I want to dance with you in the dim light. Let me feel like I have given you a proper date and I promise you, when we get back to my apartment, I will leave no room for doubt in your beautiful brain. I will kiss you.." he learned in to my ear to whisper "I will have you screaming to whatever gods you believe in all night." He stood back up and smiled at me. It was an innocent and loving smile.

The uber drive back to the bar was short, thank god. He held my hand to guide me out of the car and we went back inside through the patio. Hizashi was still drunk. He grabbed me and told me how pretty I was. Aizawa sighed in annoyance. Then Hizashi screamed for Nemuri, she cam running from the back, drinks in hand.

"Nemuri!! Look! They did it!!" He pointed to my neck.

My face was on fire. I did not realize the bite had left a mark. Aizawa snaked a hand around my waist and pulled me to him, hard enough to make me place a hand on his chest for balance.

"Would you shut up and let the kids have their fun, we have been waiting for this to happen for months." Nemuri handed me a glass and asked me to dance with her.

I looked at Aizawa who just nodded for me to go off and enjoy myself.

Unknown to me, Hizashi begged him for details and Aizawa did not oblidge. He left is very vague. Only telling him that he could not fight his feelings anymore and that we kissed and came back to the party. Hizashi whined at the last of graphic detail, but eventually let the topic go.

Meanwhile, Nemuri and I were dancing and grinding on each other. Laughing and taking shots. I tried to pace myself, I did not want to be too drunk to miss out on the end of the "date." A broad hand cut in between us and pulled me close to him, I halfheartedly expected it to be Aizawa, but it was Enji. I pulled back quickly in disgust. He laughed and reached for my wrist again only to fall to his ass. My eyes flashed the gold and copper color that he had only hoped to see. I bound him to the floor with my magic. The music stopped and everyone back up as the giant man struggled to get up. I snapped my fingers and released him. There were gasps from all over the crowd. People mumbled, wondering what happeded, while the people closest to me could see that it was my own power that caused the scene.

"Hecate, I have to give it to you. I almost believed you for a minute. But, now your whole secret is out. Was it worth it? Doing this show all for me?" Enji was enraged and cocky.

"That was not for you... that was for him." I pointed to Aizawa, who had made his way to my side when he saw Endeavor fall to the ground.

"How cute...enjoy mediocrate.." Enji made his way back to the bar. Thankfully everyone had the attention span of a goldfish and went back to drinking and dancing.

"I think this was the best date I have ever been on." Aizawa giggled and pulled me close to him as a slower song played.

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Chapter 7: Oh My God

It was over, we made it back to his apartment. Suddenly, I felt nervous again. Like a virgin being lured to into a sacrifice. I felt danger and excitement, passion and longing, but more importantly... I felt safe with him. I felt like he was testing me to see if I would try to initiate. I was far too nervous for that. I sat on the couch and waited for him to come back from the restroom. My blood ran cold when I heard the faucet turn off from him washing his hands. I do not even know how to act sexy.

"So, you have a pretty impressive music collection here.." I could have punched myself for trying to break the ice.

"So, can I see? Show me something magical?" He brough two glasses of red wine to the living room area.

As he passed a glass to me, I sipped the sweet and bitter liquid. Trying to fight off the hangover and keep a small buzz for confidence. I blushed at the question, I had no idea what I could impress him with. At this point in our lives, I feel that we have seen it all.

"Tell me what you would like and I will try to make it happen?" It was more of a question for him that a command.

"I want to see...what you desire." He sat back on the couch. His legs were spread and his rested his wine glass on knee. His other hand resting behind his head comfortably.

It took me about a minute of thinking. I put on one of his records and swayed slowly to the music. Sipping my glass of wine in between thoughts of what to do. Suddenly, I had the best idea. I shot down the rest of the wine and told him to close his eyes and count to three.

"One...Two...Three..." When he opened his eyes, I stood before him in a matching bra and panty set, black wiring, flesh toned transulent fabric that had emerald green stitching in the patters of webs and tentacles like something out of a Vintinour magazine. It was sexy, it was sinful, it made him audibly moan a low "Oh my god.."

"Now...what is that you desire?" I bit my lip and smirked like a brat.

"I would love for you to come sit in my lap....but I desire for you get on your knees right here..." He pointed to the floor between his legs. "Obviously, only if we are sharing that desire."

Aizawa, king of consent. It make me feel like I would soak through my magic-made lingerie. I took a few steps to him before dropping to my hands and knees and crawling up to his knees. He stood up and unbuttoned and I eagerly pulled them down with his underwear and gently pushed him back on the couch before taking his length into my mouth. The good thing about a little foreplay is that by the time you get to this part, there is no need for warming him up. He was stiff and hard, twitching at the cool air, pre-cum dripping from it's head. I was enjoying myself so much I did not realize I had been sucking for nearly 10 minutes, changing things around, fast and slow, circling my tongue around it and making sure to lick his balls while I stroked him with my hand. His moans made me want to beg him to fuck me, but I needed to make him feel like he was the only man in the world. I wanted to please him, erase the doubts from the Endeavor situation.

"I would not be a good man if I let you do all of the work, now would I? He gripped my hair in his fist and pulled me away from his cock. I was whining like a brat. He laughed as he through me on my back, I hit the carpet with a thud and a pout.

Now this was knew to me... I did not come down to the floor and spread my legs, he hooked his strong arms around my thighs and curled me my pussy up to his face. I was basically upside down. My shoulder blades on the floor as the man's tongue violated my pussy in the best way imaginable. I was crying, swearing, shouting out to the gods. I was so close I could not breath. He stopped and slid a hand up my back, putting me in his lap and my face to his.

His kisses tasted salty and sweet. I desperately grinded on his cock. Soaking it with my arousal, but never pushing it inside without permission. His kisses went down my throat as his hands shredded the lingerie way too easily. My whole body was exposed to him and I got a little nervous. No time to stay nervous when the man of your dreams has his mouth on your breasts and two fingers sunk inside your tight little whole. He even knew to curls him up while he pumped them in and out.

"Fuck... I am going to cum, please don't stop! Please don't! Please... FUCK!" I shouted as the juices flowed from me right onto his palm.

He stroked himself using my own lust as lube. He lowered me down onto my back. The couch was soft and comfy. Agressively, he threw one of my legs up and rested my ankle on his shoulder, while he lined himself up to my entrance. Asking permission once more. I barely finished the word "Please" when he pushed inside.

"Oh god, you feel...." He fucked me a few more times before finishing that sentence.

I think he knew he would not last very long on our first time, but he made every thrust feel like heaven. His moans set my body on fire, I wanted to praise him for treating me like a goddess, but I also wanted to serve him like he was my deity to worship for eternity.

"Tell me this is mine? Forever!" He shouted.

"This is yours, Shouta! Please.."

He came so hard, when he pulled out, his cum painted from my lower stomach to my chest. I was messy and sweaty and tired. He walked away and brough a warm towel to clean off with before inviting me to the shower.

This was how I would spend many nights after.

[b0nemilk]

There is Something comfortably melancholy about waking up at 2 am in a cramped car in a Walmart parking lot because you can’t sleep. So you stay up watching the random people in the early morning walk around , commute to work , simply drifting and existing . When the overwhelming amount of sentience pushes you on a bench in the back of your brain forcing you to think , think , think about everything. It’s made me realize I don’t even know my thoughts anymore. I live so in the moment trashing any long lingering thoughts. I’ve turned my emotional processing off. I haven’t thought about how I’m In a whole new place, I haven’t really thought about how I’m working with people I won’t see again knowing everyone is a stranger here including the trees , the buildings , the signs , the cracks on the ground. I think about the people I hold dear to me and they can leave in a second . I think about how I’ve lost my mind haha . I tell a lcd therapist with tons of anonymous doctors that at I turned it all off because how does one process living ? Knowing there existence is so tiny and everyone else around you is so tiny , but yet seemingly so large . What is the best advice for knowing your whole world and time can be lost in a second Or every second slowly . What makes my life significant. I don’t feel like I am a bad person , I love hard and I’m understanding with everyone I treat people like I’ve known them forever. But why do bad things happen to me? “It’s life” a abandoned coffee mug tells me in a thrift store for 50 cents . All I’m begging for is a break let this be the one who stays , let my friends stay alive , let me not disappoint my family . My grandpa is dying . I can say it doesn’t bother me . I can say I’ve blocked off any emotional attachment after I saw him the last time years ago and I took advantage of his dementia by stealing his cigarettes in a teenage rebellion . Am I sad about this? Yes . He was a the only positive male figure in my life . He was everything to my mom . I’m jealous of my distant family . They get so much more time with everyone else but my mom had to move to America. I don’t even talk to my family other then my mom and brother . 444 . I wish I could see my cousins party and grow . I wish my aunts and uncles knew my gossip. My family is huge but I feel small? And not really apart of it . I hate my body I hate the way I look . I feel so ugly and awkward all the time. I’m insecure but loved connected and unconnected and a mess in a structure. I can’t help but to fear the inevitability of everyone leaving me . A message to my dad but I doubt he will ever be able to grasp the emotional weight of a “just hang in there “ poster hanging in a psych room med station Of a father he has been . I pinch myself leaving pricks of blood watching the clock every minute pass leading me closer to a catastrophe. Manic depression? What is it ? Emotional discharge is all it is . I’m ok ! I’m fine ! I smile I joke I work! I have a stable relationship with my friend , family and boyfriend ! Have I fooled myself? Have I pulled off the most incredible heist of my own perception! Evil laughing in my own head you fool! You fool. YOU FOOL!!!! It’s 5 am now I’m on my 180 th minute of watching the world slowly move around me . Nate’s made noises in his sleep. Which. Means around 7-8 am he will wake up and tell me about his dream. Escapism . Is the only thing we cling to . So much so people are now just living in vr. Nobody wants to live in this world anymore . We rather create our own candy flavored ignorance and inflate the massive tits of our own self hatred . We love you though. We love you! We love hard long and boy is it give us meaning ! I love you , I love you I I love you so much . Loving you makes me feel better. Spread the love man . Or was this another rose colored shades to hide the fact we are dirty fucking animals drooling over sin . I love you but I love you when I can . Because mommy’s very busy she has to work and your dad is slurring and slutting his was up the street . I love you untill your fat

[just-puddding]

Team Minato week day 1- found family/teaching

Minato catches a right hook before it strikes him, right as the man jumps over a kick meant to throw him off balance.

They both leap away from eachother before clashing again and Minato almost gets takes an ugly punch his abdomen because he got distracted by Kakashi being sent flying a few feet back from a kick flat against his face

"Shit" he murmurs, grasping the enemy's wrist and using it to throw him against a tree, relieved that Kakashi managed to catch himself on his feet and engrave a kunai to his attacker's calf in response, instead of just getting blasted to the ground.

Minato doesn't even think about it before he charges forward to catch the nin that attacked Kakashi by the midriff, and tackle him to the ground.

The man buckles under his grip as Minato snatches Kakashi's kunai and drives it into the man's torso, cleaving it deep before diving it back again

"Kakashi" he says, catching the sight of his student by the side of his eyes "if you have something in your mouth you better spit it out before you choke" Minato advises, catching how Kakashi seems to be curling his mouth oddly under the mask

Kakashi hesitates, long enough for Minato to jump to his feet while the man he was fighting earlier gets up, before he nods his compliance and pulling his mask down

"Aaah!" Minato gasps, almost missing the man's throat as a tiny tooth goes flying out of Kakashi's mouth "or not!" Oh fuck.

Minato reaches him just in time to pick Kakashi, and his teeth, up and bring him out of the way from a fire jutsu that Kakashi was about to try to counter "hold on" he whispers to Kakashi, placing him down and quickly turning around to shield himself from a wave of kunai and shuriken

"Uh" Minato fumbles on what to do for a second, afraid he might lose the tooth accidentally "okay, Kakashi, listen" he tries

"Take this" he rushedly grabs Kakashi's hand and shoves the tooth in it "and make sure not to lose it" he clenches Kakashi's hand tightly around the thing, getting up on cue to a kick to his side and spinning , sending the man back "I'll take care of him"

Kakashi didn't look happy. At all

Ignoring that fact, though, Minato picked up a kunai from the ground and leaped toward the missing-nin, both of them clashing against each other

"Why." the man flinches as Minato engraves the kunai into his shoulder and Minato takes the momentum to grab his head "uh, well– hold on" he cracks the man's neck, heaving as he watches him fall down to the grass with a thump

Last one. It's fine. This is fine

He sighs as Kakashi approaches him, settling beside Minato and watching the corpse with an... Intense glare. Kakashi crosses his arms "i could have dealt with him in my own if you weren't so worried about a stupid teeth" he grumbles

Minato strains a smile, snorting despite himself "yeah, i know"

Kakashi huffs, making an small affronted gesture "you always do this." Minato only smiles– it's not untrue "why do I have to keep it, anyways?"

Kakashi stared up at him intently

Jumping on the change of subject, because he doesn't want to have to explain to Kakashi that he doesn't feel comfortable putting a 6-year-old At risk so he can 'get a feel for it', even if Minato does try to take it easy during missions to give Kakashi a chance to fight on his own (before he inevitably breaks in worry) Minato just hums

"well" he mouths "they say the first fallen teeth is the mark of a great warrior, and if you keep it will bring you fortune on your career as a Shinobi"

at least that was what most Shinobi in minato's immediate circle said, Minato knows that some clans have different legends about it and if he's not wrong civilians traditionally give their first to a loved for good luck

Kakashi seems unimpressed by his explanation, though, and his smile too, as he just loudly huffs "that's stupid, sensei" ouch

"This isn't even the first anyways" Kakashi mutters under his breath, looking back down towards the missing-nin, and Minato mourns not being there for the first "we should dispose of them"

Minato blinks, then looks down too, "oh, yeah, right" he chuckles "if we do this quickly we'll be back by noon, we're very close so I doubt anything else will happen"

The mission was a fairly simple C-rank. they were supposed to escort a group of wandering story-tellers that'd been touring around fire to a civilian village off west, but ended up getting ambushed by a few missing-nin holding a grudge on Konoha on their way back, an hour or two from the village. Unlikely it would happen again

Kakashi nodded absentmindedly, shoving his teeth down into his weapons pouch before he bent down and poked at the missing-nin's wound, sending blood spilling out

Kakashi curls his nose "they smell gross" he complains and Minato nods sympathetically, shuffling for body-scrolls "i imagine they do"

He pulled one out with a 'there!' and moved to bend down besides Kakashi, "i'll let you have the next one" Minato promises as he unwinds the scowls, looking placating to Kakashi

"Sure" the kid huffs, kicking off a jutsu to clean up the blood, well, not exactly a jutsu as much as technique

Kakashi bought chakra to the palm of his hands, molding it to take on a water nature so to soak up all the blood from the wound and grass into his chakra, then turning it back and dispersing it

It was a trick Minato was quite proud of him for, Kakashi had started using it a few missions back and it had been very helpful in cleaning up so far

Minato smiles as the blood vanishes and Kakashi gets up to move on to the next body, not waiting for Minato to seal this one first

Kakashi, as Minato learned, is trying to teach himself to use different chakra releases from his own, that being lightning and earth, and has so far proved himself to be quite good at it.

He already managed water (and dabbled in fire), although he complained that he can only keep up the molding for a few seconds at a time before it breaks, unlike natural chakra molding that can hold up for a few minutes, maybe an hour if you're a master.

Still very impressive Minato muses, watching Kakashi crouches before the big guy that'd attacked him earlier. most people can't use chakra natures besides their own.

Minato laughs softly to himself, finally starting to walk towards the boy as he remembers the time Kakashi had asked him to teach him wind release, which turned out to be the nature Kakashi struggles the most with

When Minato gets close enough, he tries not to laugh as he shoves his hand down into Kakashi's hair to mess with it

Kakashi makes an offended little sound of surprise, his shoulder shooting up as he crumples under Minato's hand

Minato remembers feeling really guilty that day for laughing when Kakashi lost control and sent the leaves he was practicing with flying all over the place, accidentally cutting his hand in the process

Kakashi almost drops the water back down on impact, but catches himself and throws Minato an indignant look that finally breaks him (which only makes Kakashi look more indignant)

"Let's go to ichiraku's when we get back, okay?" Kakashi tilts his head, then shrugs, knocking Minato's hand off of his head, looking back at the body "sure, whatever"

_________________________________________

I really wanted to make something for team Minato week, but I kept trying to come up with something and still didn't manage to make anything i was super happy with!

But! I still really want to participate because I really love them a lot, ya' know? So I decided to post some of what I have as drabbles instead of a fic, with some silly sketches to accompany them (kinda of rushed ones)

So, uh, yeah! Team Minato week baby!!

[urbandokkalfar]

Speaking of Looking to the Past to Preserve the Future...

This is gonna be a looonnngggg hot take, I'm sick/not feeling well so Niquil induced deep thought is your curse as much as it is mine.

Most industry is unnecessary.

Lemme explain:

Food industry for example. Everyone needs to eat, this is a fact. How do governments and powers that be start keeping the impoverished masses in line? Control the food. When you think about it, m o s t plants labled weeds or unappealing/ugly or even nuisances are not only edible and nutritious but a good number are medicinal (I'll touch on this next). There isplebes.ely no reason why cities, towns etc can not replace ornamental vegetation with fruit trees, berry bushes, vegetable plants like peppers, tomatoes and the like. They don't because it doesn't perpetuate hunger as a motivator to work for them.

Medicine - While I can concede that some artificial medicines can be useful and can help some situations but, again, disconnecting people from the past: foraging, herbalism etc you connect them to the modern 'machine'. Healthcare is the states is an absolute joke. I've mentioned before I have a broken bone in my foot and a cracked knee cap - to 'fix' both with modern medicine would require me to not only be out of work for an insane amount of time but pay half the costs upfront and continue to pay for the foreseeable future. I have neighbors who regularly come to my apartment every week to share meals because they can not afford their medicines to keep them alive, bills, rent, and necessitys ontop of regular grocery shopping. We pool resources, buy in bulk and split it equally.

Continuing with medical - Doctors in the US (not sure about other places) notoriously gaslight paitents and ignore them until it's to late or erroneously expensive to afford treatments and will require treatments or medications for the rest of their lives. I don't believe all medical staff is inherently 'evil' but I do believe they are taught in such a way to run paitents in circles to force them to keep paying for life saving meds/treatments. Insulin, Cancer treatments, Hormones and other life saving/gender affirmative/mental health care should not be putting people deep into financial crisis - it makes it worse and keeps them in the system.

Also - Abortion should be 100% legal.

Gender Affirmation Care For Trans Youth And Trans In General Should Be 100% Legal.

Sex Workers Should Not Be Demonized.

Automotive Industries should be abolished. Cars, roadways etc are another means to keep people paying into the money pit of government and society. Gotta pay 100+ to register your vehicle every year, gas prices fluctuate like my paitents with stupid people, people who have no business being on the road (looking at you 90 year old with Sundowner Dementia...) posing a threat, cars in general posing a threat not only to other motorists but pedestrians, wildlife, non motor vehicles and the planet.

Companies Green Wash products - Vegan leather is plastic...plastic is ass for the environment while real leather biodegrades and has been a part of the himan experience for centuries.

VEGAN LIFESTYLES ARE UNSUSTAINABLE, PROMOTE DEFORESTATION, DESTRUCTION OF HABITATS, EXTERMINATION OF SPECIES AND PROMOTE SLAVERY. While i fully understand people who HAVE legitimate medical reasons and even true moral reasons for being vegan I do NOT condone industrial veganisam - your destroying the planet JUST as much as industrial agriculture.

Pro-Lifers are a fucking joke and we all need to laugh at them. Ya'll only care about a clump of cells till it's birthed.... Why don't you put that money and effort into HELPING children already existing in the hell that is the foster system rather than force people to keep making people they can't have or don't wanna keep for whatever reasons they have???

Society has become a sham - there is no protection living in mass cities. Cops kill people for no reason, becuase they can. Doctors and other medical professionals can decline to treat you based on their religious beliefs, personal ideas, sexual status/orientation, financial situation etc. If you don't fit the mold, you're a threat. Everything is engineered to cost JUST ENOUGH to keep the poor poor, you can not be self sufficient without consequences and limitations.

We need to go back to small, self sufficient communities, embrace birth control for males and females to get the human population under control, reduce the human foot print, reduce conventional vehicle travel (long distance public travel and goods transport/emergency services being the general exception with limitations), get the ecosystems back in balance....