#my only goal for today was to gather the scenes

[strawberrybyers]

gathering scenes for a ‘mikeven is over’ montage and so far i have 18 minutes worth of footage 💀 and that’s not even all the proof that they’re over 😭 i’m only using scenes of mike and el interacting with each other or them speaking about one another to someone else.

this is actually so funny oh my god. i can’t wait to finish editing it and post it because seeing scenes that happened in different seasons back to back really puts it into perspective. they’re so over i love winning 🫶

[neuroprincess]

His Favorite Person - Melissa Schemmenti/Female Reader

Melissa Schemmenti/Female Reader

Summary: The moms are going through a difficult time with LuLu's first teeth and a hero comes to the rescue.

Classification: Fluff

Warnings: Well, some realistic motherhood, it's not all flowers. Also, FRIENDSHIP GOALS

Word count: +2100

Unrevised 

Six months went by in the blink of an eye and with it many challenges of first-time motherhood, the moms could barely breathe properly until the month mark, Luca is very smart and, despite his strong personality, didn't give as much trouble as expected. The redhead is in love with those squeezable cheeks and chubby little doll hands, the loud giggles are the highlight of her days, as well as Y/N's. But the relief and sense of stability has gone as quickly as it arrived, one day the baby is all smiles trying pasta, the next so fussy that getting him to eat becomes a mission impossible. So a week goes by that they would describe as hellish, not only because of the problems with feeding and the understandable irritability due to teething, but also because of the suffering shared with all the pain the boy is going through with the new phase, gums tearing and keeping him awake all night mumbling and feverish, causing general concern. On Friday, they're not sure whether or not to host the weekly couples' dinner; before it can be cancelled, Barb and her husband appear at the door with a pan in hand, worried looks on their faces followed by muffled laughter. At work, Melissa had already been seen with bite marks and obvious signs of not sleeping, the woman just didn't imagine it would be chaotic to the point of leaving her, literally, dishevelled.  

"Where's my handsome little boy?" she greets LuLu excitedly and reaches out to take him from the younger's tired arms "What happened to make you cry, my dear?" and wipes the tears drying on his rosy little face, immediately noticing the high temperature "Poor thing..."  

"Sorry about our condition, I was going to call you to cancel, but we were trying to get the fever down and completely forgot." the teacher whispers, staring at the scene in amazement, the moment her son clings to the friend he stops crying immediately, doesn't seem to be the same little monster who defeated her in exhaustion minutes before "What a sly one! Do you see that?!" she points out indignantly. 

"Well, it's not my fault I'm the favorite." Barbara jokes and walks past them into the house, unsurprised to see a dozen toys scattered around the living room, the kitchen a complete mess, dirty dishes in the sink, open packets and cubes of frozen fruit on the counter, a doctor's recommendation for relief "Kid, was that all you?!"  

"He's a Schemmenti." Gerald jokes, following along, leaving the pie on the nearest surface "How many hours did you sleep today?"  

"Maybe three... or four." the timetables jumble in Y/N's head, she can't remember what time they went to sleep or how many times she woke up in the middle of the night.  

"And it's been the longest night's sleep so far," adds the other, rubbing her eyes.  

"You're clearly not well, why don't you try having a decent bath and getting some sleep while we take care of everything?" he offers, starting to gather up teddy bears and small cars on the carpet.  

Surprised and grateful, the couple exchange glances at this generous offer; the idea of being able to take a bath for more than five minutes, plus a little rest, is tempting, but they are reluctant to let them deal with it instead.  

"Go on, get some rest!" the man insists, shooing them away with a hand wave "We'll take care of everything." 

"Are you sure?" Melissa asks with concern, it seems like a lot to do or maybe she's mentally overloaded to the point where doesn't want someone else to do something she considers an exclusive responsibility "I mean..."  

"Don't be stubborn." Barb interrupts her and goes into the kitchen, putting Luca in the highchair, he doesn't even grumble about not being on lap "Take advantage of our presence until he gets sick of us, this phase is terrible." 

The redhead raises her hands in surrender and Y/N exhales satisfied, tired to the bone, nursing a baby full time takes a lot of time, energy and attention, she can hardly imagine the state of her wife who works all day at school and still tries to give the same support as best she can.  

Looking at Luca, who is calmly sitting down and taking the previously rejected piece of fruit into mouth, Melissa finally gives in.  

"All right, but please call us if anything happens."  

Everything goes very quickly and on autopilot. Before they realise it, the pair find themselves under the shower's hot water, washing each other's hair and sharing non-sexual cuddles, satisfying their longing for quality time together. Motherhood is deep, rewarding and valuable for both, a priority that has guided the small family's decisions and routine, little by little intimacy has been put aside amid the daily demands. They don't blame anyone or anything but the circumstances, they've read that it could happen at a certain point, all the nuances it would bring and they haven't forgotten their promise to stay together, to say "I love you", all the possible clichés to get through the storm without shaking marriage.  

The teacher couldn't hold back a moan on entering the room, every muscle relaxed and the tension drained away, there was a calming sensation, she felt refreshed from the tip of the toe to the last strand of hair. Y/N can say the same, she never thought that a simple shower could feel like a full SPA, even with a massage, she barely lays down on the bed properly and already feels soft hands rubbing damp skin. There are soft smiles, some mischievous, strong fingers squeezing sensitive spots that manage to elicit the happiest sighs, occasionally there are teasing touches and loving bites.  

"Years of relationship and still doves in love." they are surprised by Barbara's sudden appearance, they didn't hear her push the door slightly open "I've brought dinner and some tea."  

She lifts the tray with caprese chicken sandwiches, pieces of pie, red fruit and camomile tea, would offer whisky if it wasn't for breastfeeding, she knows they deserve it when they go through the chaotic teething process, the girls were relatively calm and yet almost destroyed the house when they got their first set of tiny sharp teeth.  

"Get fed and try to rest for a few hours." she put it between the couple "Let's do the same with the little one, he's already struggling to keep eyes open. You deserve a decent night's sleep."  

"So true, I look like a different person now, imagine when I finally get some sleep." the redhead jokes before taking a generous bite of bread, her last meal having been lunch "Delicious!"  

"Did LuLu give you and Gerald much trouble?" the younger smiles fearfully and sips the hot liquid "No crying, no grumbling, no breaking things, maybe we're in a dream."  

"No, he was a little angel... except with Gerard when he tried to give him a piece of cut mango, I'm pretty sure he was trying not to bite him." she confesses the last part in a whisper, they laugh well aware of the implication "He's jealousy incarnate."  

Melissa tosses her hair to side, her expression proud, needless to say he inherited it from her and everyone knows it.  

"Mel once threatened to bite someone." she adds, explaining her friend.  

"And I did." she says even more proudly, the person deserved it.  

"Unbelievable!"  

After all, Y/N still finds herself amazed by her adventures and oddities, she knows half of the stories from others, as the woman hardly ever brags about her achievements. Conversation doesn't last long, minutes later Gerald appears too, Luca agitated in his arms and ready to attack anyone who annoys him, just push at the edge a little. The youngest mother mentions getting up to intervene, only to be stopped by a sign from Barb, who picks him up without a second thought.  

"No, you need a bit of time to yourselves." she reinforces and sets the boy on his feet, kissing the cheeks, leaving a lot of lipstick marks "Today we're going to give them a break, aren't we, cutie?!" 

As if he knew what the topic was, he tries to answer in babbles, all the adults smile at such cuteness. Within seconds he is no longer irritated, an effect that only the one and only Barbara Howard has. She strokes the coppery hair, making him close the eyes immediately, an adorable giggle as he snuggles into her chest, little legs wiggling with joy.  

"I'm starting to be offended by this more than obvious preference."  

"I never tire of saying it, it's not my fault that I'm his favorite person." she shrugs and stands up, stroking the baby's back over the newly laid pyjamas, she inhales the sweet smell, delighting at the contact, her daughters are grown up now and the times when she could lovingly hold them all the time without protest are gone "LuLu and I will see you tomorrow." 

She bends him over so that the mums can kiss him goodbye, but by this point Luca is already unconscious, losing the long and stubborn battle against sleep.  

"Sorry, I'm going to have to say it, I LOVE YOU BARB!" Y/N sighs in pleasure and gives a grateful kiss, then throws herself against the mattress, clinging to the soft blankets "Nothing can convince me that it's not a dream."  

"She needed it too, badly." Melissa reflects and moves closer to the friend, stroking her son's face affectionately "I really appreciate and am very grateful for what you're doing for us, being a mother has been intense and unexpected, we're lucky to have a support like you and Gerald, it's something I never expected in my life. The only reason I'm probably not crying right now is because tiredness overcomes even the tears." she jokes, wrapping her in a tight hug between loving smiles. 

"There's nothing to be thankful for, I love our little prince and that's what friends do."  

The door closes, Howard takes him to the nursery and they wait for a cry or any negative reaction, but the only noises to be heard are footsteps echoing down the corridor and the man humming while doing the housework. They smirk, silence has never been more appreciated than at this moment. The teacher lies down next to her wife, hands running along her robe-covered waist, fingertips brushing exposed skin, mouth meeting the back of neck, leaving a lingering kiss, the younger laughs, turning so that they are face to face, then leans in to bring their lips together.  

"I think we should kidnap Barb." Y/N proposes with a grain of truth.  

"We need to do that, cara mia! I'll take her down and you tie her up, deal?" 

"Deal! But what about Gerald?" she jokes.  

"He can survive without her, we can't."  

"I can't believe we're going to sleep properly, I'm so excited that sleep has fled." she confesses eventually, feeling a new wave of energy coming from nowhere "It's so strange not having anything to do."  

"That's because you're overwhelmed, principessa." Melissa props herself up on elbows so that she's partially seated, the hand that rests on the waist wanders down her curvaceous body and stops at the face she loves so much to see when waking up, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear "But we have this evening to ourselves. God, they're being real heroes today."  

"Yes! I swear that when she took LuLu in the arms I saw her in costume and cape for a millisecond."  

"And he simply stopped crying, it's like she has superpowers."  

"Or she's just his favorite person... in the whole world." Y/N leans over and kisses her, a consolation prize for what she's going to say next "I'm sorry, darling, but that's the truth. You've lost your place to Barb."  

"At least I'm still your favorite?" the redhead makes those abandoned puppy dog eyes, feigning sadness.  

"Always, hottest biter in the world."  

The lights are switched off, they move closer in the soothing darkness and cuddle affectionately, wrapped in the comfort of being in the arms of the one they love. Sleep gradually comes, accompanied by the previous worries about Luca, if he's managed to eat properly, if he's hydrated enough, or if he's lain down in the right position.  

"I can hear your thoughts, Mel."  

"I'm sorry, amore mio." she whispers, a little thoughtfully. Despite her religious upbringing, she's not a fan of most traditions, so baptism hasn't crossed her mind until now, as she watches her best friend and confidant win over her son with her mere presence, creating a beautiful bond "What do you think about inviting Barb to be LuLu's godmother?"  

"Perfect! We couldn't find anyone better than her."

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[within-your-eyes-if]

November 1st Progress Update

I hope everyone had a safe and enjoyable Halloween, for those who celebrated!

First and foremost, real life has thrown some curveballs my way, I'll be largely unavailable at the end of this week. I have a long update here, so lets jump in.

Alpha Testing Progress: It's moving along quite well! Only 3 more scenes to implement (hi testers, I know you're waiting ♥), and then Part One will be 'complete'. Once additional testing and feedback implementation are done, it'll undergo a brief beta test. Current word count? A whopping 146k! I anticipate it crossing 150k after these scenes. And yes, I may be recruiting a few more testers today or tomorrow - I have kept applications, so if you’ve already applied, no need to reapply.

Big Shoutout: To all my testers - you're stars! Thank you for your dedication and patience.

Heights and Measures: I've been mulling over the heights of female Gabriel and male Xiao for quite a while. While I've previously addressed and altered fem Lee’s height, fem Gabriel’s has been on my mind too. I'm aiming for more diversity in my ROs, so your thoughts would be invaluable. Here’s a poll to gather some feedback. Please remember, while I deeply value your input, the final decision will be based on what feels right for the story.

About Poly Routes: Many of you have expressed excitement about the inclusion of poly routes, and I apologize for not offering clarity on their nature earlier. Rest assured, I remain committed to delivering these routes, but I aim to ensure each one is rich and fulfilling. Presently, I'm contemplating both triangle and V poly dynamics, with the goal of finding what aligns best with the narrative and characters. Although the triangle dynamic was my initial plan, I believe I may be able to implement both, but I'm still not 100% certain yet.

In structuring the poly routes, particularly as they debut in Chapter 3, I debated including the casual flings found with certain ROs in non-poly routes, alongside the deeper romantic ties intrinsic to all ROs. After reflection, I've resolved that poly routes will emphasize romance exclusively. Thus, if your character's preference leans towards no-strings-attached flings, these won't characterize the poly routes. Given the array of ROs and their diverse dynamics, not to mention non-RO flings, this decision streamlines my writing process and makes it easier for me to have one aspect to focus on with them. Your patience and understanding in this matter are deeply appreciated.

That being said: Given the depth of my story, I'm leaning towards releasing future updates in smaller segments, akin to Chapter 3's structure. This isn't just about speed but about ensuring quality across the numerous ROs and narrative paths.

Chapter 3 expanded beyond my initial imagination, causing some initial stress, making me wonder what was needed and what wasn't (but it all felt necessary). So in the end, I decided to break it, and I'm very glad I did. It's relieved a lot of my worries. This lets me keep the story's richness intact and (hopefully) reduce the wait between updates.

I've started to notice my creative process sometimes takes me beyond initial outlines, or even reevaluate them entirely, letting the story breathe and evolve more naturally. This realization is relatively new for me, but it's shaping how I approach future updates.

From Ch3 Part One and on, future updates will likely be broken into parts, potentially leading to more "Chapter #: Part One" styled releases. I hope this provides clarity on my evolving approach and is seen not only as way for me focus on individual parts, but as a way to consistently update.

I hope this all makes sense! While I don't have a specific release day in mind yet, I feel my mid-November prediction is correct. Thank you all for your continued support and love. It means the world to me!

[nrdmssgs]

Darker matters (part 8)

Masterlist Previous part

Angst Pairing: Nikolai x Olga 'Zhar' Samoilova Summary: The completion of the rescue mission Warnings: Swearing, mention of kidnapping

Thanks: My very important people: @siilvan, @homicidal-slvt, @sofasoap and @gamergirlbonestaskforce141riot. @pale-elysium I love you so much.

Zhar barely catches, what exactly Ghost and Krueger are growling at each other. One of them points to a now empty window frame, and Olga looks there. The lower threshold of the frame is painted with a dark scarlet, and reddening wet lines stretch from the window sill to the floor. She gathers all the strength to concentrate and remember, what happened, but two men shouting above her make it almost impossible.

Their voices echo, mix together with the noises of the battle unraveling on the lower floor. Olga can only make out something about medic evac. For a split second she's afraid, they are planning to send her off, but then Ghost shakes his head.

Krueger curses, looking from Ghost to Zhar. Then he finally leans closer to her and asks, ‘how's your pain limit, commander?’.

“Ask my burnt ass,” Olga winces. 

“She's going to be alright.” Ghost stands up and takes the gun out of the holster. “Behave, commander, and I'll bring you a gift. Served just as you wanted.”

He disappears around the corner to Krueger's displease. He doesn't hide it, frowning while he undoes Zhars vest and pulls the med bag closer. It takes him a few moments to stop the stream of frustrated thoughts regarding the outsider among them in such a critical mission and concentrate fully on his commander's wounds. 

“Ok, lets, oh fu-” He pauses, glances at Olga's paling face. “Let's make it quick - I promise to be gentle, you - to not fire me, if it hurts too much.”

***

“Affirmative, out.” Iskra flips the switch on her comms and turns back to the rest of her team. 

“Krueger got Zhar, we're not waiting for them. Once again: two people, who leave this shithole on their two,” she points at the door leading to the lowest level of the base, “are Nikolai and Sedmi. I want every other one dead by the time, we are done.”

“Which ones of you are assigned to get Sedmi?” The question sounds from the darkest corner of the hall and only the outlines of a white skull mask give away the fact, that somebody actually stands there.

Others turn their heads towards the voice, but nobody answers: they've already heard through comms, that they have a ‘guest star’ today, but none of them is sure, if the man is worth of their trust.

“Us three,” Iskra points at herself and two other soldiers. After all, if Zhar trusts him - that means something. “You with us?”

“Won't even notice me.” Ghost checks his gun and takes a step forward.

***

By the time, they descend to the subterranean level of the base, Iskra is sure: this is the place, where they keep Nikolai. They've checked every meter of the upper levels and Sedmi and Nik were not there. 

Their shadows cling to every corner and the hum of machinery reverberate through narrow passages. 

Iskras group stops right before the long dark hall and waits for their technician to work his magic. He manages to bring the lamps back to life only for a few short moments, but that's enough. The flicker of harsh fluorescent lights offers much needed glimpses of the subterranean battleground. Silhouettes of enemies materialize in the shadows, and hungry for blood Chimeras press forward.

Short, bright flashes of gunfire and dim flashing lights from cameras and alarms briefly illuminate scenes of brutality. Chimeras are trained to fight quickly and with maximum efficiency. But now the fatigue and irritation accumulated over the long weeks of preparation for the operation are making themselves felt: soldiers do not hide the pleasure with which they are slaughtering the remnants of Sedmi’s army.

Leading her men forward, Iskra loses the sight of Ghost, but that doesn't bother her anymore - she's too concentrated on her goal. Every step forward comes at the cost of sweat and grit, as the enemy, cloaked in shadows, retaliate with a relentless determination to protect their bargaining chip - Nikolai.

The moment, when her eyes meet Sedmis marks the shift in her fighting style. If Iskra was searching for anything, that could point her in the right direction before - she now was full of determination to get that man. 

Iskra sees desperation in his face, sees a cornered animal instead of a warrior, and stops holding back. She follows him, as the man runs to a door at the end of the hall, closes the gap with relentless strides, feasting upon the fear, that she catches in his eyes, each time he looks back at her.

There are not more than a few meters left between them, when bullets trace the air right above Iskras head. She drowns to the floor, distracted by enemy fire and curses, hearing, how Sedmi frantically fumbles with the lock.

In the heat of battle, out of the corner of her eye, she notices a blurry shadow gliding very close. Her gaze catches on a large silhouette, and, clinging to the wall, she turns around and sees Ghost. He appears behind Sedmi’s back so quietly that he remains unnoticed until rises to his full height. With a precisely controlled movement, he hits the enemy in the temple with his elbow, and Sedmi falls to the ground.

***

Nikolai thought of the possible scenarios of him finally meeting Olga again almost constantly. To kill time, to forget the physical pain, to remain calm, to not let intrusive thoughts with other scenarios in.

He forgets his plans for a short time, when the door to his room is opened and he sees Iskra. 

“Iskorka, spasibo, moya zolotaya.*” Nik smiles as she walks in and sets him free from the restraints. 

As if sensing the question, that eats him alive, Iskra says ‘she's here, now let's go get you to the medics, commander.’

Despite him being perfectly fit to fight the remnants of Sedmis army, Iskra leads Nikolai straight to the stairway. He doesn't protest though, sensing, how worried she is about finally getting her commander back. Nik glances around and takes a mental note about an unsettlingly great number of enemy bodies, lying on the floor.

“Chimera partnered with someone for this?”

“Chimera grew bigger, while you were away,” for the first time Iskra, always so concentrated and serious, smiles.

Nikolai doesn't have too much time to think about her answer though, because when they emerge on the first floor - they meet Zhar. 

Nik freezes, stops in his tracks and just watches her pass by, seemingly not even noticing him. She looks nothing like a month before, when they saw each other last time. She's just a wraith, a mere shadow of herself: skin pale to the point, when it looks grayish, jerky movements, cold, lifeless eyes. Olga advances forward steadily, but it doesn't escape Nikolais eyes, that she uses the wall as support to avoid falling.

Ignoring Iskras hand, clasping to his shirt, he takes a step to Olga, all the scenarios of him holding her, hiding her from any harm and finally comforting her coming back to life in his head. Iskra calls out Zhar, saying, they have Nikolai at last. Olga doesn't slow down or turn to them. The words, that she throws over her shoulder, feel like a punch in the guts, like an invisible wall, that stops Nik.

“Get him as far as possible from here.”

***

Sedmis head is killing him with a potent ache and deafening ringing noise. At first, he doesn't want to open his eyes, but the disorientation makes him feel dizzy to the point, when he has to see, if he is lying on the floor, sitting, or really being constantly swirled around, as he feels.

Blinking against the dim light, he becomes aware of the confining reality - the good news is that he's seated. Immobilized and tied to a chair, yes, but seated. You won't seat a man, unless you don't want to speak to.

The bad news is the man, dragging a table to the center of the room. Sedmi heard of this one.

“So you are the guy, the bitch assigned to kill me? How do they call you, a Phantom?”

The man ignores Sedmi and touches the light bulb flickering above his head. Blinking a couple more times, the lamp lights up with a dim but even light. As he looks right at it, Sedmi notices drips of blood running down his mask and gear. 

“How is it going to happen. You shoot me? Ain't no way, Price would let you keep me.”

His captor slowly squints, looking at him, but not turning his head from the lamp. After a few minutes of silence, he walks behind Sedmi and tightens up the knots, restraining him.

“My job here is to keep you alive.” Sedmi doesn't like, how this mans voice sounds. There is a big part of calmness there, but there is also an anticipation. 

Zhar enters the room and Sedmi relaxes: despite the coarse texture of the ropes biting into his flesh right through his clothes, despite the masked silent enigma standing somewhere behind him, Sedmi feels, he might after all regain control over the situation. When it comes to Olga - Sedmi always knows, where to push to make her do stupid things, she might regret later.

“So you bring this beast with you, and he's the good cop here?” Sedmi chokes on quiet laughter, his shoulders shake, but almost immediately feels the men hand gripping the back of his neck.

“How much did you pay him? And for what? How would he explain getting involved in an operation to save an ass in the international-class criminal?”

Zhar doesn't react to Sedmis rant - she leisurely sits down on the opposite chair and throws a folder with some papers on the table. Her captive continues to hurl insults and questions, but Olga’s unfocused gaze pierces through him, and her hands rummage through all her pockets. Finally, her face comes to life, and she takes out an inhaler in a bright children's case and places it on the table right before Sedmi.

He falls silent as soon as he sees that. The room seems to tighten its grip on him, amplifying the gravity of the situation. He swallows hard, tasting the metallic tang of fear.

“Where's he?” Sedmis first question is barely audible. None of his captors reacts to it, so he asks once again. Only this time he screams.

“Where's he? Where is my son?! What did you do, you sick fuck?!” 

“Now you're asking the right questions…” Olga answers in a calm tone, contrasting with his shouts. Then she looks up and addresses to her colleague.

“Can do it alone.”

No answer from behind, not even the slightest movement. Zhar sighs with some unhealthy hissing sound escaping her lungs and her gaze falls back on Sedmi.

“Last few weeks were quite busy, hm?” She leans forward, her fingers trace invisible lines on the desk around the inhaler. “Monitoring Chimera newest hires, cutting off our supply chains, listening to my phone calls, talking to me, sending that guy after my informants… And taking care of Nikolai, of course. Did I miss anything? Side jobs, reports to your friends?”

Her captive remains silent, catching every word, that escape her lips.

“So many things to do, so little time for your family. At first, I did believe, you were smart enough to not have one. But Chimera is a creature with many eyes and ears. While you were enjoying me failing terribly at following your orders to ruin the company - my many eyes were watching, where you send your most trusted men, my many ears were listening to your late night talks. Ada was right by the way - you should have brought more time with her and Luka. Such a beautiful wife, such a sweet little kid.”

Sedmi shudders, his hands involuntarily try to stretch forward, but his captor has tied him securely.

“My first intention was to visit your big shiny villa, the one with the million dollar view. Ada talked so much about the incredible treats that your personal chef made you there… I just had to check it.” Zhar takes a folder and drags the first paper out of it.

A photo falls on the desk before Sedmis eyes and what he sees on it makes his heart skip a beat: his and Adas bedroom burnt. Black walls, iron bed base merely peeking from a huge pile of ashes, dark pieces of fabric and plastic, empty picture frames laying on the floor.

“I have Lukas room too, have a peek.” She throws another photo before him - Sedmi doesn’t risk looking at it. 

“Where are they?” He growls at her.

“Don't you act as if I could find them in your main property. We both know, it's not like that.” Zhar seems to miss his question completely. “To be honest - I wasn't surprised either. It would be too obvious, and besides, it would take so much more men to actually guard such a place and not just make an impression. So I moved further to your other secret harbors.”

Sedmi feels that he slowly but surely becomes a helpless spectator in his own harrowing drama. Images lay bare the shattered remnants of what once were sanctuaries. His and Ada's houses, every room and every memory, are now not more than charred skeletons standing as grim reminders of Zhars wrath. The wrath, that becomes somewhat familiar to him after yet another photo.

“Nikto… That bloody merc was claiming to be incorruptible. Did you pay him, blow him? How did you convince that bastard to make a full theater play for me? Fucking beautiful…”

“You think, Nikto was your weak link?” Olga methodically flips through the photographs, each depicting the ruins of familial havens. “Nikto was your best man, Sedmi: he never betrayed you - he was assigned to scare me and Nikolai, and he did just that. I only helped him a little. But enough about him - it's Ada and Luka, we are looking for, right? So many places, they were not at.”

She picks a photo from a folder and the corners of her lips jump up for a brief moment. 

“Now this place is special. A modest one, a secluded fortress. Your mother's house,” her whisper cuts through the silence like a blade.

Sedmis heart plummets, the chill of despair seeping into every fiber of his being. He could watch Zhar taking the keys to his kingdom, his men, his property - but not the fates of those he holds dearest.

“You fucking insect.” A spasm runs through Sedmis body making him shiver. “Sitting here, jerking off at your mightiness, after you killed a defenseless boy and wom-”

“I never said, they were dead.” Zhar rises on her elbows above the desk. “What, you think, I`m making this show just to tell you, I killed your beloved ones? No Sedmi, my dear seventh friend. I have other plans. Want to know, what are they?”

He nods, and Olga continues leaning forward to him.

“You will live a long life. And I will teach you, how to do it. You see, I know, who has a grudge against me. A year ago I orchestrated an operation with one particular fixer. We closed a jar with spiders, shook it well enough, and you guys started ripping each other's heads off. There is a reason why they call you Sedmi or ‘the seventh one’. You are part of them: a union, a cartel, a friend club - I couldn't care less, how you call it. But I know, there are many of you there: ‘the first’, ‘the second’, ‘the god knows which’ one... Many spiders not happy with a jar, I and Nikolai closed a year ago.”

She pauses, looks Sedmi in the eyes and touches his face.

“You will walk out of this military base on your two. It won't be easy, but eventually you will figure, how to set yourself free. Your army will be nonexistent anymore. You won't try to contact your bodyguards, because their bodies are lying on the ground at the crashsite of Nikolais helicopter. You will spend some time searching for Ada and Luka and find them at some point. You may as well give this back to your son…”

Zhar pushes the inhaler closer to Sedmi.

“You will find new ways to fund your life, purchase new place to live in, take your kid to school, make sure, your mom is back to normal after all the stress, she had to live through, take care of Ada…”

A faint smile blooms on her lips. 

“But whatever you do - I want you to do it with one thought behind everything. When you hire new soldiers - I will know each name. When you buy a new house - I will have all the information on the deal even before you.”

Zhars whisper sounds right above his ear.

“I will know, your sons teachers names, I will choose the doctors, monitoring your mother, I will hear what your wife talks about with her friends on their kitchens while you're not around. I will see and hear and know everything, there is about your new little life. And from now on if any member of your group, I troubled a year ago, plots anything against the Chimera - it is your problem, Sedmi. If I even think, that something starts boiling up - it is your headache. And if I am not happy with your performance - I won't kill you, don't worry. You will live long enough to see your beloved ones agonies. Every last one of them, begging for a quicker death.”

Sedmi feels the masked mans grip tightening on the back of his neck once again, as Olga stops in mere inches from his face. The table creaks as she leans back, her hands never leaving the desk, as if she would fall as soon as she stops holding on to it.

“If you were waiting for a good time to say, that you got me right - this is your moment to shine.” She looks at him, not blinking, not even breathing, it seems. 

Sedmi looks around, but his gaze can't concentrate on anything: the walls are blank, sterile, the lonely lamp above them stopped swaying a while ago. It feels as if everything around him, including Olga, is dead: empty shells pretending to be rooms, furniture and people. 

And she, this half-burnt piece of meat is the very heart of this stillness. Sedmi doesn't fight the sudden urge to make her at least a bit more alive, and spits into her face. 

Immediately, his face is being slammed against the desk - the masked one doesn't say a word, but he knows well enough, what he's doing. Pain pierces through Sedmis head like red-hot needles, and the world goes dark for a moment. Once he manages to rise his head once again - Sedmi notices, that photos of his destroyed houses are now painted red. He watches his saliva slowly flowing down Olgas jawline.

Zhar asks him again, if they are clear and this time her captive is more cooperative.

“C-crysh- Crystal clear.” It hurts even to speak, after the masked one turned his mouth into a bloody mess.

Sedmi gathers all his strength, and before Olga and the masked man leave the room, he speaks again.

“Hey Phantom-boy… You think, you're the hero, saved the day, punished some criminal piece of shit?” Zhar and the masked one freeze on their way to the exit.

“Of course you do. Think, I'm a waste, bloody trash. Well, it takes one to know one. So if you're thinking, you chose the right ally - look at her once again. That bitch, you're serving so well, is not a human anymore. Shes not even a creature - this one is a mold. Stops at nothing, eats up anyone, when it gets hungry. Today she's on my walls, but who knows where you find her tomorrow. So before you put on your ‘good boy’ collar this evening - think of your family in her hands.”

An unsettling silence permeate the room, broken only by the distant echoes of indistinct sounds. Olga holds up an open palm in a wordless request, and her colleague takes his knife out of the holster and gives it to her.

“Make sure, we don't get interrupted,” commands Zhar and the masked one leaves her alone with Sedmi.

Iskorka, spasibo, moya zolotaya.* - Sparky (Iskra is Spark in russian), thank you, my golden one

[nouies]

Annual Writing Self-Evaluation

thanks to @allwaswell16 for tagging me! i enjoyed reading your answers a lot! 1. List of works published this year:

ready for a war

Devoted

fuck around, find out

seven, seven

the embers are new

bet on it

Harmony

Cold Spring

two languages, one love

could start a cult

must be love

don’t let the fire die

2. Work you are most proud of (and why): i’m proud of all of them for different reasons, this is very hard to choose. i’m going to say Harmony bc it was the first time i made a collab with an artist.

3. Work you are least proud of (and why): not necessarily a work but i’m not proud that i couldn’t meet my writing goals set for this year (writing a fic longer than 20k words, finishing a wip i’ve had for three years).

4. A favorite excerpt of your writing: from fuck around, find out

“Everything looks lovely but please, call me Louis. What was your inspiration for the menu, Chef Styles?” Louis asks, beaming. Harry lets out a laugh, refocusing his gaze to the dining area. “I’ll call you Louis if you call me Harry, can we agree on that?” Once he gets a nod of confirmation, he continues. “When Oli mentioned you wanted to retribute to the people working for the movie, and that you wanted it to feel personal, it immediately made me think of the time I arrived in New York. I was a youngster, with no family in the city and only a promise of a job that I wasn’t sure I was talented enough to fulfill,” Harry tells, remembering the nerve-wracking feeling of accepting the sous chef position when he was so young and with not much expertise. “Uh, an old lady by the name of Vittoria welcomed me to her house. She was like a second mother to me, sharing with me not only her home but her culture as well. She came to the States with her parents when she was just a toddler but grew up surrounded by the Italian community. We used to have gatherings every weekend with all her family—and I mean all the family, children, grandchildren, neighbors…I learned a lot from her, from all of them. And I used that as an inspiration for today. You’ll see three courses of my version of some of the food I had the pleasure to share with Vittoria and her family. Just wait until you try the tiramisù…it’s to die for,” he ends with a sigh. When he looks back at Louis, he notices something on his face. Fondness, maybe?

5. Share or describe a favorite review you received: i love getting comments, and there are so many that i keep in my heart that it’s hard to choose. i love especially the ones under my rare pair fics bc it’s when ppl usually tell me that they don’t read rare pairs but they gave it a chance bc of me. it means more than words can express when someone trusts you like that.

6. A time when writing was really, really hard: when i was ill around july and i kept changing and changing my blff prompt. i was very close to drop out bc i thought i wouldn’t make it. fortunately i did and i finished my second fic on time.

7. A scene or character you wrote that surprised you: writing Pedro Pascal surprised me a lot lol like i’ve obviously read Louis/Pedro fics before but i had never entertained the idea of writing one myself and it was a nice surprise. also, writing Louis/OMC wasn’t on my plans either but i welcomed it.

8. How did you grow as a writer this year: i personally don’t see any growth.

9. How do you hope to grow next year: i just hope to finish the ideas that i have. i don’t expect for them to be masterpieces, i just need them to be finished.

10. Who was your greatest positive influence this year as a writer (could be another writer or beta or cheerleader or muse etc etc): definitely my friends, the ones that read pairings or tropes they don’t like only bc it’s me writing them, the ones that hype my fics even if they don’t know if the story is good yet, the ones that offer their help and their advice to help me improve.

thank you to Anitra @allwaswell16 for being so supportive all this year, for betaing my works and offering your advice, and for encouraging me to keep going.

thank you to Emma @alltheselights who always reads my fics and leaves gorgeous comments under them, your support means a lot to me.

there’s three fics that wouldn’t exist without Mar @sunbellylou so thank you so much, my love, for being an inspiration to write the filthiest things.

thank you to Kenny @luviebaybie for being the most supportive even when life gets busier and busier. thanks for taking the time to beta for me, i appreciate it a lot!

thank you to Andy @outropeace for inspiring me to write abt Louis and the bodyguard, and for teaching me how to write a smau.

thank you to @linhuine, @smittenwithlouis, @nooradeservedbetter, @lemelous, @punkpillowprincess, @voulezloux, @disgruntledkittenface, @tokyolou, for your constant support and your friendship.

11. Anything from your real life show up in your writing this year: fortunately nothing bc i write romantic stories, no sad stories 🤭

12. Any new wisdom you can share with other writers: joining fic fests is not only an opportunity for you to shine, it’s a chance to build community so pls support works from the other authors in the fest, that’s what a fest is about.

also, hide your stats from ao3. there’s a lot of freedom in not knowing if your fic has hits and kudos or if it doesn’t.

13. Any projects you’re looking forward to starting (or finishing) in the new year: YES! i’m only working on two projects and i’m so excited abt them. the first one it’s a collab between me and @lemelous so expect a lot of gorgeous art, and the second one is a Louis/SebStan wip i couldn’t finish this year.

14. Tag three writers whose answers you’d like to read. ;)@voulezloux, @nooradeservedbetter, @disgruntledkittenface if you haven’t done this already.

*All answers should be about works published in 2023

[communistchilchuck]

Barbara, @jesuisfucked on Twitter/X, reached out to me to help share the fundraiser she is running for Deyaa, a 15 year old Gazan boy living in Deir Al Balah. Barbara is urgently raising money to help Deyaa and his family evacuate. He has only raised €7,664 out of his €20,000 goal so far! Please donate and share, and if you can't donate, please still share!

Deyaa's Twitter/X account: @deyaa_Akram14

From Deyaa's GFM:

My name is Barbara Santos Ferreira, I am a 28 yo Portuguese citizen currently living in the city of Lisbon.

I am helping gather funds to help Deyaa Akram Al-Aldini, a 15 year old Gazan and his family, this family resides in Deir Al Balah in central Gaza.

Deyaa and I met on social media, he reached out to me first asking me to donate to him via PayPal, so he could purchase food, and later to ask me for help when his PayPal account got suspended because it wasn't set up in a proper way.

The family faces the constant threat of bombing, starvation, and lives in awful conditions, since Deyaa is the only one who speaks English he is forced to go online and ask people for money, the humanitarian aid provided in this area isn't sufficient to everyone.

I will be getting the funds in my Portuguese bank account and send them to Deyaa via paypal, the money will go towards leaving Gaza.

The price to pay Halal for the evacuation via the Egyptian border, in Deyaa's case, would be of 12000k, for himself his mother and his sister to evacuate.

They also need extra money for stuff like food, housing, clothing and other basics needs to live a decent life once they get to Egypt.

Bellow you can read Deyaa's words:

"Hello, I am Diya. I am 15 years old. I am trying to save my dreams and I from this war or what they call genocide. I am in the third year of middle school. I hope to learn the English language and study outside Gaza and to live safely and help my family because our situation in Gaza is very bad. I hope you will donate. For me and my dreams to escape from genocide, death and destruction. I feel that he will answer me. When I leave Gaza, I go to a psychiatrist to get me out of the situation I am going through, which is Gaza's dark nightmare for children, women and men. My role is the child in which I dream that I, my family and my brothers will all live. Dreams: some of them died with their dream, and some of them lost their dream in order to live and help their family, but I do not want to give up my dream and I do not want to give up my family. I want them both. I hope you will help me leave Gaza and achieve my dreams and help my family."

This portrait of Deyaa, sent to me by Barbara, was drawn by Fatima, a Palestinian artist in Gaza also raising money to evacuate. She has only made kr5,000 SEK out of her kr150,000 goal, a mere 1/30th of the way there!

From Fatima's GFM:

Note : $1 = 10.5 SEK

‏Hello, I’m Fatima alshanti, and I want to share with you my sincere and personal story. During the war on Gaza, my life turned upside down. I couldn’t do what I loved, which is drawing. The war robbed me of moments of peace and tranquility that I found in my artistic creativity.

‏But now, I come to you with an open heart and with the truth in my hands, I need your support. Unfortunately, my workplace was completely damaged due to the war on Gaza, where the building was completely destroyed and only rubble and debris remained. The art equipment was destroyed, and the thriving floor turned into a scene of devastation and wreckage. I haven’t drawn since the war, and I lost my work, my passion, and my inspiration. But today, I want to rebuild my artistic life and regain my work and my passion for drawing.

‏I have no one to support me financially, and I want to use the donated money to live and spend on myself and achieve my dream.

Thanks to your financial support, I will be able to restore my skills and inspiration. I will be able to start over and rebuild my path towards art and creativity.

‏In the near future, after regaining my passion for drawing, I plan to travel. I’ll use the financial support I receive from fundraising efforts to expand my horizons and develop my artistic skills, and perhaps achieve my future dreams in the field of art.

I’m not just seeking to regain my passion for drawing, but also to share beauty and hope with others through my artistic creations.

A small amount will be allocated for the maintenance of my sister’s damaged house.

‏Thank you for listening to my story, and thank you for all your support and solidarity. With your help, I’ll be able to return to art.

[sixty-silver-wishes]

Reading Junji Ito's "Billions Alone" from a post-lockdown, culturally individualist perspective

Today, I met up with some local writers at a cafe/comic shop for some group discussion and writing. One of them is a fiction writer like myself; the other is a video essayist. Since becoming more involved in the local artistic scene, both as an artist and a writer, I feel like my mental health has been improving, at least when it comes to my personal life- I'm building a circle of like-minded creatives, surrounding myself with others who have similar beliefs and interests as me. As I'm finding community in the creative scene, however, I'm also realizing that many people I'm meeting feel much of the same way.

At the writers' meeting, while we discussed our stories, our goals, and our writing challenges, the idea of "third spaces" also frequently came up as well. My video essayist friend was talking about a new project studying how public infrastructure is designed to favor drivers over pedestrians, and we all agreed on something that I've been hearing many times in online circles- the internet itself is changing. Despite social media platforms supposedly promising to bring people together, they've only become more isolating as they've become more corporate, AI, and algorithm-driven. We talked how lots of online users are returning to the "old internet," forming their own blogs and seeking an escape from the increasingly stifling major platforms. We discussed how while everything is filled with SEO and short-form content, nobody actually likes TikTok or Instagram, but they've become so ingrained in online society that we tolerate them, using them to promote our small businesses or connect with others.

After the meeting, I decided to look around the comic store, and was drawn to a copy of Junji Ito's manga collection, Venus in the Blind Spot. I'd become a Junji Ito fan way back in college, and his art style has had a big influence on my own work. While I also take heavy inspiration from styles like Expressionism and New Objectivity, and artists such as Edward Gorey and Stephen Gammell, Junji Ito's painstaking pen-and-ink hatching, bulging eyeballs, and grotesque faces have played a distinct role in my artistic growth. However, I didn't own any of his mangas (having read some online), but I'd been wanting to get one so I could study his art style up close. I ended up buying Venus, and after my conversation with my writer friends, it was strangely coincidental that the first story in the collection was Billions Alone.

Junji Ito's Billions Alone tells the story of Michio, a reclusive young man who has a crush on his former classmate, Natsuko. Natsuko is planning a school reunion, and invites Michio to reconnect and meet her new friend group. Meanwhile, a mysterious series of mass murders have been taking place, as a group called "Billions Alone" appears to be killing people en masse and sewing their bodies together. As Michio and Natusko's friends are killed and the heaps of bodies grow bigger and bigger, the public is warned not to form gatherings, and to isolate from one another. Eventually, Michio sees military planes that he thinks are attacking Billions Alone aircrafts, but are actually dropping pamphlets about "coming together" onto the town. As he thinks the government is finally taking action against the murders, he goes to tell Natusko, only to see her sewing the bodies of her family together, implying that the murders have not been carried out by an organized crime group as suspected, but rather civilians being compelled or brainwashed into killing each other. I've seen analyses before that Billions Alone is a commentary on Japan's collectivist culture, and that many of Junji Ito's works critique different aspects of Japanese culture- for instance, Gyo has been interpreted as a metaphor for the Japanese government's denial of atrocities committed by Japan during WW2, such as in Nanking, China, while My Dear Ancestors has been read as a criticism of the concept of filial piety. While these interpretations are certainly fascinating, I admittedly don't know enough about Japanese culture to properly analyze Ito's works from that lens, and will leave that up to people more knowledgeable than I am. However, coming from the United States, which has a heavily individualist culture as opposed to collectivism, Billions Alone resonated with me in a different way, especially after the Covid lockdowns and the increasing isolation of people, ironically in part due to the internet, which has simultaneously allowed people to "come together" and drive them apart.

Before I get into my thoughts on Billions Alone from my own cultural perspective, I want to add a disclaimer- just because Covid lockdowns are over doesn't mean that Covid itself is over. People still get the disease, it's still contagious, and it's still deadly. If you're sick and going out in public, it's common decency to wear a mask; public health is still important. This analysis is not anti-mask or anti-lockdown, but does discuss the social and psychological effects of lockdowns. I'd also like to say that when I call myself "culturally individualist," I mean that I come from an individualist culture, not that I consider individualism to be a superior ideology; both individualism and collectivism have their pros and cons. That being said, back to Junji Ito.

One thing that stood out to me the most in Billions Alone is the way the concepts of togetherness vs. isolation are framed in both positive and negative ways. Natsuko is a very social character; she has a friend group, a fiancee, and is planning the school reunion. She's also the only character shown sewing people together at the end. Meanwhile, Michio is very isolated; he's spent the last seven years at home. He misses Natsuko at the beginning of the story, and while he wants to confess his feelings towards her, while he's been shut up in his house, she's found someone else she loves. Togetherness prevents social death, but it also means physical death. Isolation means mental anguish and loneliness, but it also means survival.

The characters in Billions Alone both crave and are terrified of togetherness. As they're ordered to stay separated by the authorities, many young people, including the main characters, ignore the orders to gather in groups. This definitely brought the Covid lockdowns to mind for me; like the characters in the manga, to protect ourselves and the people we loved, we had to avoid gathering with them. Michio thinks that by the end, the Japanese government "finally" decides to take action combatting Billions Alone, but only after the death toll has become impossible to ignore and increasingly large masses of bodies begin to appear in public spaces. Worse yet, the planes he sees are in the control of Billions Alone, dropping propaganda to even more people (this page points out they're possibly an allusion to Allied planes during WW2; the allusion to John Lennon's music on the radio also makes a possible case for an analysis of the Billions Alone group symbolizing western globalization, but that's a study for another time). Notably, the bodies don't appear in workplaces or the home, but rather in "third spaces"- public parks, hiking trails, and areas being used for parties, like the school reunion. To survive, people must avoid these places, leading them to become more and more isolated. Natsuko's desire for social connection leads her to continue with the reunion despite Michio's insistence, justifying it as a "memorial" for the members of her friend group. However, the auditorium is empty, and she and Michio are confronted with a large web of bodies.

Looking at Ito's (frankly amazing) drawings of the corpses (I found myself analyzing his use of hatching and texture in every single one), I was reminded of the discussion my friends and I had about the modern Internet. In the story, technology is shown as a way to keep people connected while isolating from each other; Michio watches the news on the television for updates, calls Natsuko on the phone, and reads online forums to see what people are saying about the murders. But, as in real life, technology is not a substitute for social interaction, and while people can communicate and receive information over long distances while being isolated, they still continue to gather, despite knowing about the murders. They increasingly rely on technology, but still crave connection, enough to risk their lives for it; even Michio, who is used to being alone, says he wouldn't mind being sewn to his crush Natsuko as he ventures to see her again despite the risks. It's a line that was probably intended to be humorous, but speaks to the fact that even for him, there's only so much isolation he can take. When he sees the military planes, she's the first person he goes to talk to- if not the only person he knows who's still alive.

Overall, I think there's a lot to analyze with Billions Alone, and while I saw some people on the internet also drawing parallels with the Covid lockdowns like I did, I think what we can interpret from it in terms of the long-term increasing isolation of society- while we paradoxically "come together" with the internet- and the disappearance of third spaces is just as interesting. Like my friends and I in the comic store today, the characters are desperate for connection, and lament not being able to have it. Even if isolation may help them survive, they ultimately fall victim to their desire to live.

[teddyeyeseddie]

E is for Everybody Wants You

Pairing: Coach!Dean x Reader

WC: 2,000

Warnings: SMUT (minors dni), Orał (F&M rec), Unprotected Sex 

A/N: Next part to my 26 part A-Z series. Today’s song is Everybody Wants You by Billy Squier

Masterlist 

Dean Winchester’s A-Z

You always make it, you're on top of the scene

You sell the copy like the cover of a magazine

His sweat soaked shirt clung perfectly to the expanse of his shoulders, causing all the women watching to gawk at the scene before them. Y/N was thankful she was one of the few single moms at the soccer game, not that she had a chance with the gorgeous coach but she can dream, can’t she?

“Good job Jesse, keep going!” He yelled as her son dribbled the ball past the last defender and closer to the goal, cheering loudly as the ball goes past the goalie and into the net. Y/N is on her feet cheering as she watches her little boy jump up and down with excitement.

The rest of the game goes off without a hitch, once the players finish shaking hands, Y/N is on the field lugging a cooler behind her filled with snacks since it was her turn this week to bring the aftergame treats. The team mom had been down her throat asking what she was bringing but ultimately decided to listen to what Jesse wanted rather than what the uptight woman suggested.

She begins to unpack the cooler while Coach Winchester talks with the team, congratulating them on their win and sending encouraging words to Jesse who scored the winning goal for the boys.

“I thought I said bring oranges for the after game snack?” Janelle scoffs as Y/N unloads the treats she and Jesse made the night before.

“I figured the kids were sick of oranges. I asked Jesse what he wanted to bring,”

“Well I don’t care what Jesse wanted-”

“Something other than oranges? You’re a woman after my own heart Miss Y/L/N,” Y/N turns around to see Dean standing over her, a line of little boys waiting patiently behind him, “Tell Jesse’s mom thank you and only take one treat. I’ll see you guys at practice on Tuesday, great job today boys.”

The boys stay politely in line as Y/N hands them their drink and snack, each one thanking her with toothy grins, last in line is Coach Winchester, a kid-like smile adorning his face. He takes one of the homemade treats and sends Y/N a wink before digging in.

“Coach Winchester I am so sorry we had unhealthy snacks this week, I’ll make sure next game we have-” Dean turns around with his mouth full, “No, it’s fine Janelle. I think the kids were getting sick of oranges anyways. I know I was..”

Janelle’s face turns bright red before she grabs her son and his things and marches off across the field. When Y/N looks up, she spots Jesse’s dad making his way across the field, she sends him a polite smile and gathers Jesse’s things. “Baby, your dad is here. Go say hi.”

Jesse skips off as Y/N begins to pack up the cooler, Coach Winchester still lingering as he gathers all of the team’s equipment. As she is bent over, she hears a throat clear. She turns around and is face to face with Jesse’s dad.

“Mike…” she breathes out, not quite excited to see him but happy he finally came to a game for Jesse.

“Y/N, listen I was wondering if I could take Jesse to meet my girlfriend’s kids? We were all going to do a game night and watch a movie and we would love to have Jesse there,” Y/N examines the man’s face as he talks, doing her best to make sure he is telling the truth and not just throwing out empty promises. She decides he's being genuine as she shrugs her shoulders and looks down to Jesse.

“It's up to him,” Jesse is nodding excitedly, holding onto his dad’s hand while smiling.

“Then yes, I’ll swing by around nine to pick him up,”

“Come on, let him spend the night…”

“Not tonight, he has to be up early tomorrow for a birthday party, unless you want to take him to it?” She questions with a hint of sarcasm lacing her voice.

She turns to Jesse, kneeling down in front of him to place a soft kiss to his cheek. “I love you buddy, you have your phone so don’t hesitate to call me if you want to come home early, okay?” Jesse nods and gives his mom a hug before reaching for his dad’s hand, the pair walking away from her.

“And here I thought Jesse’s dad was out of the picture,” she jumps at the voice coming from behind her, turning abruptly to see Coach Winchester standing before her.

“Coach Winchester, I thought you had already left,” he chuckles at her obvious flustered demeanor before holding up a duffel bag, “Coach always leaves last, and please, call me Dean sweetheart,” Y/N’s insides flutter at the pet name, her mind wandering as she thinks about how it would sound in bed.

“Nope, Dad is still around. Definitely not the dad of the year but I take what I can get,”

Dean nods his head as he slings his duffle bag over his shoulder, Y/N doing her best to ignore how his muscles look under the sweat soaked tee he is wearing. God she really needs to get laid.

“Your rice krispies were wonderful by the way,”

“Thank you, I actually own the bakery on the square, you should stop by sometime. Maybe I could put you to work,”

He chuckles as the pair begin making their way to their cars, stopping once Y/N reaches hers.

“I’ll have to take you up on that…”

Y/N is sweeping the floor of the dining area when she hears the bell over the front entrance jingle.

“Sorry, we’re closed,” she says without looking up. She hears a familiar chuckle which causes her head to snap up, a smile plastered across her face when she realizes who it is.

“Can’t stay open just a little bit longer for your favorite coach?” he questions as he locks the door behind him.

“You’re early! I actually didn’t know if you’d show up…” she says as she sets her broom down and makes her way behind the counter.

“Ouch, and miss lessons on how to make the best apple pie I have ever had? Not a chance,” He steps forward and holds out something he has been hiding behind his back, a bouquet of some of the most gorgeous flowers Y/N has ever seen. “For staying open late,” she smiles brightly at him and takes the flowers from him.

“Coach Winchester, are you trying to get in my pants?”

“I don’t know, are you allowed to sleep with your kids coach?”

“Pie can wait?”

“Fuck yes, pie can wait,” he closes the gap between the two, locking her lips in a messy kiss. His hands roam the expanse of her body, reaching down to knead at the flesh of her ass.

“Office,” she pants out as she kisses down his throat, leaving little marks in their wake.

“Baby I don’t know where that is,” she rolls her eyes before pulling away from him. She grabs his wrist and drags him to where the office is at the back of the bakery.

As soon as the pair make it through the threshold of the office, Dean is back on her. He pushes her up against the desk, causing her to sit down on the edge.

“Thought about fucking you since the day you showed up at tryouts. The amount of times I’ve jacked off moaning your name is pathetic. Thought about those pretty lips wrapped around my cock so many times, thought about how tight you’d feel around me. You drive me fucking wild.”

She whimpers at his words before a surge of confidence sends sparks through her veins. She pushes at his shoulder, causing him to land in her desk chair. She is on her knees working at his belt buckle before Dean can even register what is happening. She pulls out his cock, moaning audibly at the sight of it. It's thick and just long enough, angry and red and leaking at the tip. She wastes no time, licking the length of his cock causing him to throw his head back as he groans loudly. She takes the tip in her mouth, swirling her tongue around causing his balls to draw up and his knuckles to whiten.

“Fuck baby, you’ve barely done anything and I’m already a mess. Such a good girl f’me,”

His words of encouragement send a wave of wetness to her core, her insides clenching over and over around nothing. She takes more of his cock into her mouth, the tip bumping the back of her throat causing her to gag. She relaxes her throat and takes him in again, her nose burying into the tuft of pubic hair adorning his lower belly. Dean moans loudly as he pulls at her hair, causing her to pull off his dick with a lewd pop. There is spit running down her chin and tears threatening to fall from her eyes. She looks absolutely debauched and Dean fucking loves it.  

He lifts her up from her place on the ground, setting her back onto the desk. He pulls at the waistband of her leggings, taking them along with her panties off in one go. His arms wrap around her thighs, pulling her to the edge as he buries his face between her legs. His tongue prods at her wet entrance, the muscle lapping up as much slick as it can. He licks from her entrance to her clit, the feeling causing Y/N’s towes to curl. She is propped up on her elbows, giving her the perfect view of the man that is absolutely devouring her.

His fingers find their way inside her, her head tossing back at the feeling.

“Think those other moms think of this? Think of Coach Winchester railing them over a tiny desk? Think of me between their legs eating them out like it’s my last meal? Everybody wants me but I only want you. You’re the only one that is gonna feel my cock stretching you out, only one I’m gonna think about when I’ve got my hands around my cock.”

He stands up from his place on the floor, pulling his pants the rest of the way off before spitting into his palm and stroking his cock.

“Gonna fuck you now. Gonna fuck you here then take you home and worship you. Wanna make sure you know how bad I want you,”

He threads his cockhead through her folds, Y/N throwing her head back when he finally pushes in, the burn making her brain short circuit.  He wastes no time as he begins to fuck her relentlessly, the legs of the desk scratching against the floor.

“Dean I-I’m,” he nods his head, fucking her faster.

“Me too baby, come on, come for me. Be a good girl and come for Coach Winchester,”

She moans loudly as she clamps down around him, her thighs shaking as she reaches her peak. He fucks her slow and hard as he chases his own release, her pulsing pussy helping him reach his own high as he empties himself into her. He leans down while still inside her and places the softest kiss to her lips before he chuckles and pulls out.

“Fuck that was so much better than pie,”

Dean Tags

@winchesterfanatic1967 @akshi8278  @missannwinchester @thoughts-and-funnies@stixnstripesworld@lyarr24@kazsrm67@laycblack @mrsjenniferwinchester @drakelover78 @leigh70 @deanwanddamons @siospins2​ 

[mister13eyond]

big brain thoughts about my oc i've been developing today, in a hopefully more coherent form than they are on twitter? here you go!

so, i think Vin should eat dreams.

he's a demon, and all demons need to gather mana (life force/magic/call it whatever you like) both to survive and also to grow stronger. at least, in my worldbuilding they do. and some do that through consuming whole human souls for one big boost of power- and others do it through harvesting small doses of life in the form of strong emotions. your monsters inc solution, if you will. those demons tend to be the kind who find a way to evoke strong emotions for harvest- incubi through lust, or demons disguised as performers who collect praise, or demons who make horror to collect fear, and so on, and so forth

anyhow, dreams are nothing but the brain recapping and unpacking our feelings and experiences from our waking hours, so what more powerful source of emotion IS there? dreams remove all the logic and the structure of the conscious mind and leave behind only feeling- joy, nostalgia, stress, terror, lust, longing.

so what BETTER source of feeling? what better form of pure unconstrained emotion? and so: vin eats dreams.

how that looks is actually the concept i'm rotating around in my mind, because a structure immediately fell into place when i considered vin as the framework for a series of vignettes- think twilight zone, elvira, tales from the crypt- in anime terms, think death parade and mononoke and mushi-shi. one central character who orbits the edges of these small, self-contained narratives, focused on their own episodic plots and individual characters.

but also how that looks is like this: vin is a reoccurring figure of varying importance in any of these individual stories. he's an observer with no control over the dream- therefore, the level of his involvement is entirely determined by the dreamer.

sometimes this means he might just be glimpsed in the background, a freeze-frame moment where you see he's been observing all along. sometimes he makes a single-scene cameo- the first to die in a horror nightmare, or a single weird encounter at the store. sometimes he gets promoted to the role of supporting cast- he gets to join the party, talk directly to the dreamer, participate in the events of the dream directly.

he can't affect other people's dreams or change the outcome, of course. that can only be done by the dreamer (and THAT depends on whether or not the dreamer is lucid- many dreamers are as passive in control of their own dreams as vin is.) he's only along for the ride. but occasionally he gets moments where a lucid dreamer might see through the haze of sleep and actually talk to him, and he enjoys those moments. he enjoys the times he gets to really see down into the bones of someone's subconscious and understand them.

ultimately, this even opens up a possibility for vin to be involved in any number of collaborations or anthologies. do YOU want to draw vin in the background of your dream comic? want to put him as an npc in your game about lucid dreams? want to reference a gold-eyed, freckled boy in your surreal unreality short story?

do it! please. please i'm begging you i love it, please do it

anyways. that's my current vin thoughts. this is utterly incoherent but I am so excited that it's clicking in MY brain, at least

(my ULTIMATE goal is for people to start dreaming about him. once that happens I'll know i've made it.)

[mudg123]

A STEP TOWARD VICTORY

The alarm echoed around the valley, a signal for us to prepare for battle. Our preparation occurred with a minimum of fuss. We buckled on sword belts, picked up shields or spears and reformed our battle lines to march from our camp to the valley floor. We assumed our battlefield positions facing each other across the enemy line. This scene, so often repeated, goes back so far in time none of us could remember the very first battle.

The alarm echoed around the valley, this signal to resume battle. Our usual battle plan combined an aerial and land attack, varying strategies according to the soldiers manning that front. We aimed to outflank the enemy and circle them and pick them off one by one. Both sides matched in every way, even the different strategies we used resulted in similar losses in every battle. And yet, we continued to fight, knowing that there was no end to the war.

Today was different. I felt lighter with a joy in me I hadn’t experienced for a long time. The course of this war was about to change, starting with the end of this battle. My goal was not to get injured if the plan was to succeed.

The fighting was steady, with the same feints and slashes in the air and on the ground. We kept at it, with everyone taking only minor hits, until I gave the signal to change tactics. I wanted to lull our enemy with the sameness of the battle, same battle different day, nothing unusual happening.

At my signal, my soldiers paired up, one in front and one behind each enemy in the air. The soldier in front continued to fight and parry as normal. The soldier behind lifted his sword and, with the flat, hammered hard along the top edge of the wing of the enemy in front of them. They repeated the blows, breaking and shattering the humerus and radius bones in the wing with each stroke. We struck together, leaving the target with only one working wing. Unbalanced, they crashed to the ground, doing more damage to their bodies on impact.

Part one of my plan was working, employing simple and effective strategy to disable a winged warrior. Its very unexpectedness threw the enemy into disarray. As the enemy crashed to the ground, some of them left the land battle and flew to join the air battle. We attacked them in the same way and watched them crash back to join the growing mound of broken on the ground. In the melee of broken bodies on the battlefield, I could see Mica trying to rally his able-bodied troops. He gave orders to those still on the ground not to fly to the air battle. I returned my sword to my scabbard and flew to the edge of the field, looking for a target that would be the ultimate piece of the puzzle.

I walked in amongst the groaning bodies towards Cass. Mica was in front of him, directing those around him. Cass was never at the centre of events, too young, too green and too conscious of his inadequacies. Walking up behind him, I called to him gently and as he turned; I plunged my dagger into his side. He started, gasped for air and swooned onto the ground. He was still alive as I walked away, replacing my dagger in my scabbard. I lifted off to join the remaining flyers, battling it out in the air.

The alarm echoed around the valley, the signal for retreat.

Everyone stopped fighting. From the air, I watched as Mica’s troops flew down towards him, surprised at how few remained. He moved with speed, organising those that could assist those too damaged to walk back to camp. I looked for Beel and Modus. My generals, both in the air, flew towards me. I asked them to be careful of those soldiers on the ground with more than broken wings, as they would have to be carried back to camp. They flew down and began the same work as Mica, organising the retreat.

This process was orderly, each side assisting their soldiers too injured to walk off the battlefield. While Beel and Modus organised our retreat, I flew to a vantage point so I could observe the battlefield watching both sides gather their fallen. I wanted to observe uninterrupted and until I saw the result of the poison; I had smeared on my dagger. The poison was new to me and its manufacture had been a part of my vision. The poison had taken me some time to gather and then make.

At least one thing was clear to me today. Mica knew nothing of the vision, he had not received it as I had done. The advantage was mine. I could not pass it up. My blind faith in this vision from unknown origins had left me with a fear of the outcome that I did not want to share with my soldiers. When I was sure of the outcome would be time to share what would come next.

My troops were all back at camp. It was time for me to leave, or my presence noted.

It had been two days since the last battle; I was standing on the boulder outside the camp, looking towards the enemy’s camp as I had done each day. At night, the enemy never lit fires like our camp. They stayed as close to our shared roots as possible, even in our current form.

Tonight, a bonfire was lighting up their side of the valley. They had lit it in the centre of their camp. We could hear their singing across the valley. I knew what the fire signified. The first of many fires for my enemy. They were honouring Cass; their fallen warrior, unable to heal himself and departed from this life.

They could honor all their fallen this way until the last one of them lay on the battlefield unburnt and unsung and this war would finally be over. And I would be victorious, standing triumphantly over that last broken body on our shared battlefield.

[darkkbluee]

Fake dating?

For the WIP asks

Oh, hi anon! Going straight for my crackest of AUs, are you? I had almost forgotten I had this one in my drafts.

This is an HP AU with canon divergence in fifth year. No one has died, but its Cold War between political factions in Wizarding World. Stressed out recent Hogwarts graduates decide to do something about it. Given that these are people who have lived their teenage years suppressed in various ways....

Their answer to peace is Romance.

Or rather, Blaise Zabini, the son who has been unable to follow his mother's footsteps to live a fulfilling life because of the cold war, riles everyone up for his #goals.

Snippet below. This was written when I had just started writing fanfics, so it's very cringe.

Our MVVIP: Blaise Zabini ✨

"We are all gathered here today, united for the purpose of ending this war. This senseless violence has gone on long enough. We need a plan. And I believe I have one," Hermione starts. 

Her words draw immediate attention. After the Triwizard Tournament, tensions had always been high. Sirius's near death in fifth year, his subsequent trial resulting in (highly scandalous) political upheaval, Dumbledore's incarceration in Nurmengard in sixth were only the beginning.

The slowly brewing paranoia in the Wizarding community erupted in riots and civil unrest.

It has been three years since.

They were all sick of it.

"Voldemort is only one man. If we all unite, convince our parents and our families and friends to stand against him, we can defeat him once and for all!" Hermione pumps a fist in the air envisioning the scene. "And with the public support such an action would give us, we can finally overturn the bigoted laws of the Ministry and change everything for the better!"

"Er- Granger? You're forgetting one thing," Justin Finch-Fletchey, he-who-refused-Eton-for-Hogwarts raised his hand. "You are right in that Voldemort is just one man. If we all were to attack him, then yes, we can do it." His eyes flickered to Harry as he said the next words. "But who will bell the cat?" 

Hermione's heart dropped. The whole point of this meeting was to somehow end this war without having Harry be the martyr. 

"Yes, but. The Dark Lord doesn't make the laws," Zabini gets an almost odd look on his face as he says the next words. "The Ministry does. And who runs the Ministry?"

"His followers do." Luna says, understanding in her eyes. "So all we have to do is make them not do it."

"Oh, blackmail?" Hermione asks, eyes misted by fond nostalgia.

"No, you idiot," Zabini sneers. "This."

Zabini removes a book from his wallet and holds it up.

Lavender's eyes go wide with recognition.

Hermione recoils in horror.

"Huh, I remember that. Romeo and Juliet, right?" Harry squints at the book. "That's a limited edition cover. Neighbour number 13 had a similar one she bragged about in her tea-party once. Aunt Petunia was furious."

"It's my mother's favourite," Zabini states. "At the end of the book, the families of the two lovers put aside their feud and were ready to accept their relationship. Unfortunately, the idiots died. Fortunately, none of us are stupid enough to do that. But the point remains. Fastest way to end a feud, or a war? Romance."

"Is this that 'Power he knows not is love' bullshit again? We can't possibly kill You-Know-Who by love," Ron says. Zabini scowls.

"Who cares about that snakeface? I'm not talking about romancing him, or romance changing his mind. That's impossible. No! I'm talking about romance uniting our families and friends! Romance forcing them to change their mind, and laws, for their children! I'm talking about dating."

Utter silence greets his words.

"Come again?" Hermione asks weakly. Everyone's looks are equally puzzled. Except Harry, who looks like Zabini's words make perfect sense.

But then, Harry's mind worked in weird ways. He made completely disjointed, and surprisingly accurate, leaps of logic. 

"Not even dating, but fake dating!" Another book comes out of his wallet, this one having a label 'From Wattypad to Hardcover! Young Adult BestSeller of 20xx'. "Look, Malfoy Sr hates muggleborns and thinks them dirty? Let his only son and heir date a muggleborn!" Zabini announces righteously. Draco, for his part, looks vaguely nauseous and scared. 

"Greengrass's father thinks half breeds are a stain? Let Astoria date Gabrielle!" Astoria cheers loudly and Zabini smiles benevolently at her. Hermione can almost see Lockhart's shade standing proudly behind him, the Valentine debacle still fresh in her memories. It is a disturbing thought. Zabini goes on passionately,

"Nott's father thinks werewolves should be killed? Let Theodore date one! Macnair likes animal cruelty? Let his daughter date a magizoologist! Avery Jr is a bit young, but play dates with a few other children should do the trick."

"My point remains: Are you not tired of this constant paranoia? This need to marry for politics and blood as if you are some dog to be bred? Our teenage years were taken by political rebellions and I say nay! No more! We deserve teenage rebellions and dating freedom! The right to not have a third wheel for protection when you want to corner your boyfriend or girlfriend in a shady corner! To openly take your crush on a date and be valid for it! And thus, why not do both?"

Hermione is certain Zabini is only half joking. He really, really seems to be distressed by the lack of stress-free dating in recent years. And the cold war. She cannot determine which pains him more.

Zabini, Hermione determines, suffers from the same skewered sense of priority as Harry. 

To her dawning horror, so do most of the people in their group. Their looks of determined acceptance will haunt her memories for decades.

"What do you think, Potter?" Zabini asks innocently. Too innocent, in Hermione's opinion. Harry nods, mind focused elsewhere, comparing the pros and cons.

"We have tried everything else. Why not this too?" he agrees thoughtlessly. 

[fictional-men-have-my-heart]

Day 31

Hello All! Welcome to day 31, everyone! Today's the last post I'm making daily for a while, its been a trip! Thank you to all who have followed along or may just now be joining, I didn't expect any of my posts to garner as much attention as they have. Thank you for being here, I appreciate it.

Now, on for the last post of the year and the last daily post for a while. A New Year's Party with the 141, Los Vaqueros, and Konig.

• You all had opted for going to a pub to avoid breaking the brand new table you assembled.

• You were sipping on one drink with Ghost while Soap and Gaz were going wild.

• "Should have bought those backpack leashes we saw earlier." You mutter, watching as Soap and Gaz were leaning on each other and singing loudly.

• "It could be worse. So far, they're still standing." Ghost nods. Konig was lingering around you two, seeing as you were calmer and quieter.

• And worse it got.

• Gaz threw up in a corner, head against the wall, feet apart and nearly falling on his ass.

• Soap is trying to keep Gaz standing, but also trying to avoid the splash zone.

• Price's annoyance is becoming more evident as his brow slowly furrows together.

• "Hey, Captain?" Rudy asks.

• "What?" He mutters, wiping a hand over his face.

• "D'ya want us to get them out of here? Before they make an even bigger scene?" You say, half watching them, half wondering how the fuck you were gonna get those two back to base.

• "It's only 11:15, and they're completely plastered." You laugh, helping Ghost half carry Soap.

• "Why'd you stick us with fuckin Gaz? He's puked three times already and we've only walked like 30 feet!" Rudy gripes. Alejandro just looks over it all, ready to toss Gaz into his bed and bolt.

• Konig was just walking alongside you, making sure everyone was getting along the road alright.

• It was a long walk back with those two, but eventually Ghost got Soap into his bunk with a trash can and propped on his side.

• You, Alejandro, Rudy, Konig, and Ghost gathered in the living area to watch as the fireworks began on base.

• "Happy New Year guys." You murmured, watching the sky.

Editing at 1 am cause I rushed that and I'm not happy with it.

• Konig bid you all farewell, retiring to his bed for the night.

• Price joined you all shortly after the fireworks began, watching the colorful bursts while leaning on the wall by the door.

• 'Here's hoping this year is less active, eh? Give us some more time to spend elsewhere." He murmurs.

• "Cheers to that Captain." You murmur, smiling at him as you turn to head to bed.

• A loud thud sounds through the bunkhouse, catching your attention.

• "Hey, I hate to break the good time vibes, but I think one of our drunk boys just rolled out of their bed..." You snort, turning to look at Ghost, Alejandro, Price, and Rudy.

• "Oh hell no, I'm not lugging either of 'em back into their beds..." Ghost growls, arms crossing as he leans back on the couch.

• "Guess I'm up, huh? If they get clingy, I'm gonna need an extraction team. Both Gaz and Soap are strong even while plastered." You sigh, standing.

• "Good luck, and good night." Price chuckles, nodding as you disappear down the hall.

• It was Soap who had rolled out of his bunk. He was laying sprawled out beside his bunk, legs tangled in the sheets and his cheek stuck against the floor.

• "How'd you even manage this, Johnny?" You mutter, tucking under his arms and lifting to try and shove him back into the bed.

• Sure enough, he got his arms around your back and tugged you into the small bunk, completely dead to the world, but his embrace is like a vice, no escape.

• "Out like a light, and you're stronger than an ox..."

Happy New Year to all who are celebrating tonight. Wishing everyone a happy, healthy, and fulfilling 2023. I'm actually pretty happy with how 2022 went even with the ups and downs, and I'm hoping to achieve some goals in the new year.

Thank you all again for taking the time to read my drabbles. Whether you're just now joining or if you've been here, I appreciate it.

[dontjudgemeimawriter]

Belated Flufftober Day 9: Game Day (sports)

Here’s a snippet for Flufftober— although October has now passed, I’m now going back and trying to do the ones I missed. Today’s prompt is Game Day and comes from @flufftober's prompt list. I’m using the characters from Syndicate. These scenes are non-canon and written simply to practice with lighter content. Let me know if you want to be tagged in future responses for this event!

I was very usure how to do this prompt as I don't knpw how to get Terran to a spots event... so instead I decided to try writing Raymond with Jodi and her freinds!

--

I scanned the crowd for Jodi. She’d begged me to join her— them, her other friends— for her girlfriend’s soccer game. After a moment I spotted her roommate, Emery, sitting a few rows up on the bleachers, but a blank space next to them. No Jodi. I looked around some more until finally I saw her: leaning over the railing of the platform, with Rosalie on the other side in her jersey.

I walked over to them hanging back a but, but Jodi spotted me quickly. “Raymond! You came.” She pulled me into a hug.

Rosalie looked up at us from about three feet down. “Hey,” she grinned. “You better cheer for me.”

“Of course,” I said. I looked at the field, trying to remember what I knew about soccer. I’d definitely learned the rules in gym class. “You kick the ball in that net, right?”

Rosalie laughed. “In theory I should kick the ball into that net,” she pointed in the opposite direction. “But that’s the general idea.” She noticed that her teammates were starting to gather, and turned back to us. “I gotta go.”

“Kick the ball, kick some ass,” Jodi added, leaning over the railing again, far enough that I was afraid she was going to fall. Rosalie hopped on her tiptoes to give Jodi a kiss, waved to me, and left.

Jodi spun upright, facing me. “Alright. Let’s get to our seats,” she said, then led me up to the area of the bleachers with Emery, and now that I was close, saw that another friend of theirs, Everett, was there too.

“Hey Raymond, you’re joining us?” Everett sat up when he saw me, offering his fist for a fistbump, which I reciprocated with a smile. I’d only met him in passing really, I wouldn’t consider us friends.

“Pretzel?” He held up a cardboard container of bite-sized soft pretzels.

“Sure,” I grabbed one then gave a smile and a wave to Emery. Emery moved aside to make room for Jodi and I.

I sat down, discovering the freezing cold of the seat. Jodi knew to anticipate it, and was untying her sweater form her wait to lay it out on the seat.

“Ever been to one of these games, Raymond?” Everett asked, gesturing that I could take more pretzels.

“Nope,” I ate the pretzel I’d already taken, it was only slightly warm and had too much salt, but I took another anyway.

“He knows where the goal is,” Jodi teased.

“This is where you throw the ball to the touchdown, right?” I said with a grin.

“Absolutely, you’re ready to play.” Everett thumped my back.

It wasn’t long into the game that Jodi stood from her seat, cheering, “Let’s go Rose!” as loud as she could.

“She doesn’t even have the ball, Jodi!” Emery teased her, just as Rosalie in the field stood the ball and everyone was suddenly running for the goal, and Emery switched to also standing to cheer for their freind, and for a moment, I even found myself ready to cheer along, to shout alongside them. Rosalie had to fight to keep the ball, and our group wound up repeating “Rose! Rose! Rose!”

Even during all that, I stayed seated, and Everett didn’t rise either, perhaps to make me more comfortable. Even when the excitement waned as Rosalie wasn’t a part of anything major, Jodi stayed standing next to me. Emery reached behind her to get some pretzels.

“How do you know Jodi?” Emery asked me.

It was just a friendly question, but I hesitated. How I knew her was simple, but giving too much information, revealing too much… I didn’t know where the line would be.

“Our parents were friends, we’ve known each other since we were little,” Jodi answered for me, before interrupting herself with a “Go Rose!”

Emery looked a little confused at that, and I leaned towards them to add, “I haven’t been in town for a while, started here this year and ran into Jodi, so we’ve reconnected.” Easy. Simple. No deaths or fake deaths whatsoever.

“Gotcha.” Emery nodded.

“Friend of Jodi’s is a friend of ours,” Everett said. Relief flooded over me, I hadn’t even realized how nervous I’d been. The next time the group stood to cheer, I stood up with them.

--

Flufftober tag list (ask to be +/-)

@puzzleddragon02

@drippingmoon

@sleepy-night-child

[jupiter-86]

Finished vol. 3 of Stars of Chaos (Sha Po Lang) today!!!!!!!!

This story continues to get better and better with each book-- it was pretty damn hard to put down. Sometimes I was literally saying "OH MY GOD" to myself while reading.

Thoughts and ramblings under the cut (there will be spoilers)

First of all, the reveal of how Chang Geng was given the wu'ergu as a child... dear god that was so disturbing and horrifying... just 100% nightmare fuel.

I loved how Gu Yun reacted to this though, his absolute compassion and heartbreak and love for Chang Geng despite him being possessed with the evil god. Actually I loved Gu Yun even more in this book overall. I can't believe I wasn't all about him in book 1 what was I thinking???

Chang Geng continues to be such a fascinating character. I can never get tired of his scheming tbh, and the way he can be scary and sneering or placid and heroic (and sweet to Gu Yun)... I just love all the facets of his character. Also, his deteriorating mental and emotional state in this book has been heartbreaking to watch. Somebody help my boy!!!!

Chang Geng and Gu Yun together in this book just stole every scene. I mean what else is new but oh, in this book??? Their romance has ramped up to 11 and it's riveting and complex-- sometimes sexy as hell, sometimes heartbreaking and sweet, sometimes funny, sometimes painful, but always they just love each other so much. I especially love how Gu Yun promised to never abandon Chang Geng if he goes mad-- instead he'll break his legs and lock him up and Chang Geng is into it lol.

And sidenote, Chang Geng being so horny and kinky and Gu Yun's fairly vanilla tastes being scandalized is so freaking funny omg.

The plot, too, has got me so so bad!!! Not so much with the Westerners/war part but with the court maneuvering and gathering of power that Chang Geng is doing. I'm so stressed out!!!!!! But also so invested like never before-- like I love the scheming and the manipulations and I do think Chang Geng would make a better ruler than Li Feng, but also can this really be a good thing if he succeeds? There's the wu'ergu to begin with, the little crown prince who'd need to die for him to rule, and Gu Yun's loyalty...

In this book we've seen Gu Yun dream of retirement and take better care of himself because he wants a future with Chang Geng, meanwhile Chang Geng is helping the nation while laying groundwork for usurping the throne... but is the throne actually his goal or not???? Sometimes I'm not 100% sure???

And honestly I don't even know what I want to happen at this point when it comes to the plot. I think I like Gu Yun's retirement idea better than Chang Geng's apparent eye for the throne, at least in theory, but a part of me also wants to see Chang Geng succeed and step on everyone and sit on that throne...ahhhh I'm so conflicted...

I feel like I need to reread the last few chapters because I know there were layers there-- both with Chang Geng's plans and motivations and in Gu Yun's reaction to it. That flute scene alone omg.

All I know for sure is I'm scared and I'm ready for more lol.

Another thing: Shen Yi. Shen Yi is a real one on so many levels and I love him. The way he figured out that Gu Yun and Chang Geng had sex pretty much instantly was hilarious. Also, I really hate that his shitty family is trying to force him into marriage; I do not want him trapped like that for political bullshit. I hope he gets out of it!!! The only person I could see him marrying rn is the doctor girl, Chen Qingxu. But maybe I'm seeing things?

Also, what is up with the plague??? I really want to see the rest of their current investigation. Them going behind enemy lines in disguise was so much fun!

TL;DR I loved it and can't wait for book 4!!!!!

[fluffleforce-mysdrym]

Seven Days Excerpt - Compulsion

This is from my fic, Seven Days. This happens right after that scene ingame, where the players get saved by the Astral Prism, when you first see the shadowy figures of the Absolute's Chosen.

---

When the darkness came for them, for the briefest moment, before the voice began, Astarion had felt Cazador. It had been a fleeting instant, but it was like across the miles and miles of darkness that engulfed him, his master had been able to feel him, too.

He doesn’t know if it was real or not, but he could have sworn he saw Cazador sitting at his desk, writing, only for his head to snap up, eyes wide, glowing that wicked, angry red.

Astarion doesn’t know if his master saw him or not, doesn’t know if whatever happened would have actually alerted him or…

There is so much he does not know.

But he does know that for that fraction of a second, he had felt his master’s compulsion for the first time since he was abducted. He had felt it grip his unbeating heart, stirring him into a panic that he was too far and that he needed to go home now.

And then something even more horrifying had taken its place.

Another compulsion, stronger than anything Cazador has ever done. Something that told him to obey in such a way that it wasn’t just him watching his body move on its own. He had felt himself wanting to obey.

Even with all the things Cazador has done to him, he never managed that. He may have taken away Astarion’s ability to fight back, but he had never taken away Astarion’s internal self. His body had been a prison, but his mind had always been his own.

Whatever came for them earlier wanted to take that, too.

He wonders if that is what Idri felt, when she gathered the tadpole.

He is grateful that the artefact saved them from whatever it was, and seeing as it has deemed Idri its new keeper, he intends to keep as close to her as possible to make certain he never feels whatever that was again.

It wasn’t his tadpole, he knows that much.

But he can’t help but feel that the tadpole was…part of it.

The little bugger has been oddly quiet today, as well. Part of him is tempted to do what Idri suggested, and ask if it knows something.

Again, he’s not sure he wants to open that can of worms. He has enough with the one, and if actually starts talking back…

Once Idri has suffered through the memory three times to give Shadowheart, Wyll, and Gale the same horror show they experienced earlier, the five of them debate what it could have been and agree that it has something to do with the mindflayer tadpoles.

“It’s a shame we can’t see those figures better,” Gale says. He drums his fingers against the side of his face, pausing to scratch at his beard. “And this Absolute…”

“It can’t really be a new god, can it?” Wyll asks. “But if it’s not, what is it?”

“None of our business,” Shadowheart answers, giving him an annoyed look. “We need to get these monsters out of our heads and go back to our lives. We don’t need to get caught up in whatever that was.”

“We might already be,” Idri says quietly. “You said the goblins weren’t affected when you felt the pressure?” She motions to all of them, her index finger extending to point at each of them and then up to where they last saw Lae’zel. “Whatever that was, it targeted those of us with tadpoles.”

“Or we were affected as a side effect,” Shadowheart dares.

Astarion cannot help but note that her comment seems to come from desperate hope rather than any solid evidence. He cocks his hips as he stands there, listening to them spin their wheels. “Does it really matter?” Astarion stares at them as they all turn toward him. “Does this Absolute’s existence change our goals? Does that strange compulsion?”

“I suppose not,” Idri agrees.

He feels a small swell of triumph that she has sided with him, because he has a feeling that means the rest of them will, too.

Sure enough, one by one, they each admit that their priorities are still the same.

Save for Wyll.

He is quiet. The bleeding heart.

No doubt he’s worried about what this Absolute will mean for the tieflings and druids.

Like that’s their problem.

Astarion glances at Idri, to make sure she’s not concerned with Wyll’s lack of response. She doesn’t seem to be, instead, peering up toward where Lae’zel disappeared. She listens for a moment for sounds that their githyanki companion might be coming back, pauses to look further down the path.

Gods, she’s not worrying about Lae’zel, is she?

Abruptly, she looks back down. “So…while we wait. Did you find anything out from those goblins?”

[miscgyan]

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