#my radio also seems to be malfunctioning

[morning-day-yew]

Today’s emotion is: a fog laden town

[onesidedradiostatic]

Pining Vox pre-rejection days makes me giggle cause now I'm thinking of before when they were still friends and Vox developed a crush on Alastor, Vox was always in a good mood whenever Alastor was around. Vox could be getting frustrated with his employees and dealing with a bunch of stress but the second Alastor shows up his screen brightens up and he gives him a genuine smile. One thing I even see Alastor teaching/doing with him is dancing, where Alastor is simply having fun with his friend and Vox just found another reason to love the guy (look I saw funny/cute art of them dancing and I totally see that having been canon at some point)

...on the flip side though, Vox could also have acted like SUPER awkward during those days too. He is professional, cunning, and charismatic with just about everyone, especially his employees and customers, but whenever a certain Radio Demon shows up, he not only acts happier, but is more...prone to being a little clumsy and having his TV seem to malfunction for "no reason whatsoever". His head was working just fine a minute ago, whatever could be the reason he's overheating or short circuiting/glitching now with Alastor here?? HMMM???

honestly I'm all for him just being like completely idiotically in love but also would just be funny to flip the canon pathetic hatred to a pathetic crush. I mean listen his current behaviour had to come from SOMEWHERE. currently in canon, the very mention/presence of alastor completely making him lose his cool, in the past, he made him lose his cool in a different way. in a more positive way, in a more "nervous my crush is here" way. but also no less pathetic he has always just been abnormal about alastor that has not changed, be it positive or negative

alastor really thinks the new tech isn't as good as it's made out to be if it malfunctions THAT much

[dinodaweeb]

Say it ain’t so

[a/n: this is also posted on my ao3. It’s not permitted to be posted anywhere else without my permission, approval, or consent. If you see it elsewhere please notify and thank you! I also do requests.]

Alastor isn’t fond of media. 

That includes the flat screen who hasn’t shown his face on the news or any other television program. It doesn’t particularly affect him but it certainly raises his questions. He watched as the lights flickered and sparks flew from the power lines. It was a hunch. A theory even but his suspicions were most likely correct. If the missing overlord and glitchy effects were anything to go by.

Perhaps, his dear friend deserved a visit? For entertainment of course. 

But he should inform Charlie of his decision. In case things go differently. Walking down the stairs he made eye contact with the lady herself. His eyes curved to the shape of smile which pulled his lips ever so tightly.

“Charlie, my dear, I’ll be busy this evening so continue your activities.” His voice getting rather monotonous when he continued. “With everyone else. Ta Ta!”

She gives him a wave and her eyes crinkle from how genuine she is. It makes Alastor raise a brow but he gives a curt nod.

As the radio demon left the hotel he went into the streets of hell. Alastor roamed the twisted alleyways of Hell, his senses were assaulted by the sights and sounds of suffering. Pure filth and cruelty, it was perfect. Tormented souls writhed in agony, their anguished cries echoing off the decaying walls. The air was thick with the stench of despair, a humble reminder of the eternal torment that awaited those damned to this infernal realm. 

And he is one of them.

Instead of the usual blare of media screens that adorned the buildings the screens eerily silent. Not even on, Alastor noticed. The absence of the incessant drones capturing others secrets made him even more confused. But his questions were answered when the televisions on the displays lit up. The 666 news channel started playing.

Ah! Finally, Vox must’ve fixed—

But the sinners thoughts were interrupted as he saw the screen. It was Velvette not Vox. Involuntarily his smile twitched and his nails gripped his staff. Leaving the man even more confused than he was before.

Alastor doesn’t enjoy being the one in the dark, perhaps it was time to shine some light on this subject.

A wicked smile tugged at the corners of Alastor's lips as he snapped his fingers, summoning his shadows to envelop him. With a predatory gleam in his eyes, he allowed the darkness to swallow him whole, transporting him to his intended destination. His yellow teeth are put into a devilish grin.

How interesting.

.˚˖𓍢ִ✧˚.˚🦈˚˖𓍢ִ✧˚.

Wires bent and stretched in the sinners palms. The televisions screen flashed blue before malfunctioning and his body twitched as his chest heaved up and down. Thirsty for air. His once-sharp voice module crackled with static, sending jolts of pain through his system with each attempt to speak.

”Va-a” Vox’s throat burned for relief but he was given none when a raspy cough left him. “Val? Valentino?”

He called for his business partner but he was given no feedback. Not even Velvette?

Shit he’ll overheat like this.

His fans were barely cooling his rising temperature. Vox wasn’t sure if he would be able to cool himself down. The televisions surroundings seemed to blur as his vision began to falter, the relentless heat threatening to overwhelm his systems entirely. Fuck, fuck, fuck—

“My, my! Hello old friend,” A voice laced in static broke Vox from his thoughts. “You seem to be in quite the predicament.”

An intrigued hum left the deers mouth. His crimson eyes crinkled in amusement as he stared the younger man. Vox gulped down some of his saliva. His screen buffering with pixelated black and white before showing his face again.

“You-!$*sa…!”

”Hm?”

His fingers curled scrapping the floor with his claw marks. “What..” Vox used his hypnosis eye. “Are you doing here?”

“I’m here for the entertainment, my friend.” His eyes gazed into Vox’s. “Not for your little tricks.”

A grumble was his reply.

“So, it’s seems like you are in quite the situation. Ha ha.” 

“No shit, Alastor.”

Alastor chuckled darkly at Vox's words. "Well, well, looks like the overlord Vox is having a bit of trouble." He paced around Vox, his shadowy form casting an eerie aura in the dimly lit room. “Where’s your beloved moth?”

Vox felt himself tense.

“Who gives a shit? I-$!sdo-dn’t!!” His screen buffered.

The deer chuckled at his behavior and gave the tv screen a light tap with cane. Making the screen return to his usual face.

"Fear not, my dear friend, for I have come to offer my assistance."

Vox's screen flickered as he struggled to maintain his composure. "Help? From you? I'd fucking trust Lucifer over you.”

Alastor's grin widened, revealing his sharp teeth. "Ah, but you see, Vox, you are desperate, are you not? And who better to assist you in your time of need than the one and only Radio Demon? Your rival.”

Vox hesitated, weighing his options. This was probably a one in lifetime experience. Call him a simp but to be nursed by Alastor…. The thought wasn’t repulsive. But if this was all just a stupid joke he’d fucking kill himself-or Alastor. He wasn’t sure which he actually wanted.

Despite his pride, he reluctantly accepted Alastor’s offer. "Fine," he agreed, his voice strained. "But don’t you fucking try something."

“Splendid! What a pleasant surprise.”

With a snap of his fingers, Alastor summoned his shadows once more, manipulating them with expert precision. The screen displayed a “Danger!” sign and Vox covered himself in electricity. Static shock sending throughout his body.

“Ah, ah! Don’t move Vox,” The overlord shivering when Alastor said his name. “They don’t bite.”

 Shadows danced around Vox, cooling his overheated systems and stabilizing his malfunctioning circuits. Slowly, Vox felt the intense heat dissipate, replaced by a welcome sense of relief. He didn’t know Alastor’s shadows were able to that. In fact, he liked to believe that he knew a lot about Alastor. Because.. they’re rivals of course.

As the shadows receded, Vox's screen cleared, displaying his image without any glitches or distortions. He blinked in surprise, momentarily speechless. He… helped Vox?

"Consider it a favor, Vox," Alastor said nonchalantly, though a hint of amusement lingered in his tone. "But remember, every favor comes with a price."

Vox gritted his teeth, knowing all too well the nature of deals made with demons. "I won't forget it, Alastor," he replied through clenched jaws. "And I won't owe you anything."

Alastor chuckled ominously, his red eyes gleaming with mischief. "We'll see about that, Vox. We'll see."

The sinner got up from his bed and approached Alastor and spoke softly. “Thanks.. I guess.” Alastor’s gaze softened at his words even if Vox wasn’t aware he heard.

”Hm? Im afraid you’ll have to speak up, dear.”

”I said..” He bit his lip. “Fuck you!”

”I think, I should’ve let you fry up.”

[rotworld]

18: Out Of Time

(previous)

anchorware malfunctions can disrupt reality in extreme, unpredictable ways. the worst case you've ever seen is aliquando island.

->sexually explicit. contains body horror, parasites, casual nudity, non-human genitalia, terato.

.

.

.

You get a few concerned looks at the rest stop. Jamie helps you limp into a bathroom and cleans you up the best they can. Your clothes are ruined so you borrow a soft gray sweater from their collection, and Jamie struggles to hide a smug smile at the sight of you wearing their clothes. The wound on your thigh is in better shape than it has any right to be. 

“A miracle for my angel,” the God of Nelton whispers. Jamie thinks it must be keeping the wound clean somehow, but it’s disinclined to share its secrets. 

“We’re keeping it, aren’t we?” Jamie sighs. You share a few eggs at a picnic table, enjoying a moment of peace and quiet. The air is damp and cool, the fog clammy on your skin. 

“No. Eventually it should go back home,” you say, touching the secondary heartbeat in your chest. It writhes happily under your skin, trying to reach your fingers. 

“And you will come with me,” it purrs. “My angel, in Heaven where you belong.”

Jamie shrugs, snatching an egg out of your hand. “As long as I’m still your favorite.” They lick their lips. One of the fluke’s needle-like limbs pierces the shell, undulating as it slurps the liquid insides. They wink when they catch you staring. “I’m driving, by the way. You can stretch out in the back, if you want, keep that leg relaxed.”

“Jamie, it’s not even that bad,” you protest. “Driving’s not the same as walking, I can do it just fine.”

Jamie giggles and pats your cheek. “You’re cute when you think I’m not in charge.”

[NOW PLAYING ON THE RADIO: IT’S HAPPENING AGAIN BY AGNES OBEL]

The idea of someone else driving your car used to be unthinkable. But you had the same feeling about passengers, too, not so long ago. They grouse about you insisting on the passenger seat but ultimately relent, giving you a nipping kiss for being so stubborn. You’re startled by the sharpness not coming from their teeth but the skitter of insectoid limbs against your mouth. The fluke quivers and Jamie lets out a shaky moan. You’ll remember that for later.

You’re unlucky again today. There’s nothing out west. But several hours of open, uneventful roads are a welcome change after the last few days. You talk about less pressing matters; hobbies, memories, getting to know each other in the easy, casual way you haven’t had time for yet. Jamie’s fluke actively participates but you’re not always sure when. Sometimes the distinction is obvious—coldly professional phrasing, a harsh bluntness Jamie usually avoids—but sometimes it’s more muddled. Jamie is more confident when talking about Drift biology and the University, more openly flirtatious when you give them a reaction. It’s less like two people fighting over a turn to speak and more like one person with two voices that sometimes overlap.

“Do you remember when I mentioned that Higgs’ flukes are sensitive to superposition events?” they ask. “I don’t think I ever told you why. They become much more active when they sense a shift coming. That’s also the only time they copulate and lay eggs. It’s a very rapid process.” 

The road gains a wiggling curve. You see a rocky slope on one side, a guardrail on the other, nothing but fog visible beyond it. There’s a salty smell you can’t identify.

“They lay eggs so close to a shift?” you say. “Isn’t that dangerous? Most animals do the opposite, I thought.”

“Most organisms seem to have that aversion, yes. But not Higgs’ fluke. Superposition events are part of their reproductive strategy. Laying their eggs right before or during one causes most of the eggs to get swept up with the shift. Essentially, they reproduce across planes.” They smile—sadly, slightly lopsided. “Perhaps that’s why this happened in the first place. How could I not feel some kinship, both of us born so far from ‘home?’” 

They both do that, you notice, referring to ‘home’ with a sense of disbelief and bitter amusement. “Do you think that’s how it works for us, too?” you ask. 

“It’s unlikely. A larger, less flexible organism shouldn’t be physically capable of making the journey, nor surviving the transition. Flukes have evolved for rapid adaptation to new circumstances; new planes, new physical laws. Even that we don’t do alone, we rely on our hosts for cues. But…” They frown. “I do wonder. If I could find enough of us who know their birthdays, would they all fall during shifts?” 

The road changes again, rocky hillside and guardrails vanishing. The fog grows so thick you can barely see beyond the windshield. Jamie slows cautiously. You both peer out the window for any sign of where you are or what might be ahead. The salt smell is stronger and soggy. You hear the hiss of water like a lake lapping its shores. “Any idea where we are?” Jamie asks. 

You’re certain you’ve never seen this stretch of road before. The asphalt, when you glimpse it through the fog, glistens with dampness. You see small, spiny stones scattered around. Shells, you realize. Like snails, but larger, and things you don’t recognize. Strangest of all, home feels close again. You should have left it far behind you but there’s that unmistakable tug at your heart again. Home, it says, is southwest and very, very near. That can’t be right. You’ve been heading west this whole time. You take out a blank sheet of paper to make a new map and get your bearings.

You freeze. The page isn’t blank. That’s your handwriting, your pen strokes disturbed by the bumps in the road, but you can’t remember starting a map. The only thing marked is Aliquando Island, a place you can vaguely remember hearing about but have never been to. No roads are depicted, only a small landmass surrounded by choppy waves. 

“We just hit an anchorware malfunction,” Jamie mutters. “It’s…weird. The road seems fine but something’s definitely wrong.”

You see the shadow of something flit just out of sight several times. A building, you think, but you can’t make out the details. An apartment complex? A tower? A church steeple? Sometimes it’s off the side of the road and sometimes it’s in the rearview mirror, even though you don’t think Jamie makes any turns. As the fog thins, the road goes from pavement to rough, bumpy gravel. There’s a house up ahead, a sprawling mansion that you struggle to understand at first glance. It’s asymmetrical. Some of the window frames seem to have been installed upside-down. You’re certain the whole thing has a slight lean as though part of the foundations are sinking, but only when you look at it from a certain angle. 

And there are people. A few faces peer down from the second floor and there’s someone standing in the doorway. Wooden easels are scattered across the lawn. Jamie is wary of pulling into the circle drive and stops some distance away. You spot something odd in the rearview mirror and twist around in your seat. “What is that?” you ask.

Jamie doesn’t need to turn around fully to see it. It’s there on the driver’s side, down a sandy slope. It’s on your right, too, at the end of a cement staircase where the grass ends and a golden beach begins. Blue. Nothing but blue. The fog has lifted but even the horizon is the same, shimmering blue like the biggest lake you’ve ever seen. It’s everywhere. It swallows the road you took to get here. “I think that’s an ocean,” Jamie says slowly. 

You’ve heard of oceans. Some people say part of the Drift was coastal highway. But you’ve never seen it, and neither has any courier you’ve ever met. It’s gone, most people say, cut off or cut apart by the strange motions of shifts, and yet here it is before your eyes. You can’t figure out how you got here. There is no road. Just dirt and gravel and a narrow gray path that slips beneath the waves. Your gaze is drawn southwest. Could you have gotten turned around in the fog somehow? Disoriented by the anchorware malfunction? 

The man at the door is wearing a brown suit jacket and navy blue slacks, his beard neatly trimmed and graying. He comes down the steps but not much further, seeming to sense your wariness. “You’re a bit early,” he says. “But I’m sure there’s a guest room waiting for you.”

“You were expecting us?” Jamie asks suspiciously. A few more people peek out of the open doorway, whispering to each other. They look excited. 

“Expecting? Well, it’s complicated. Everything here is complicated ever since our anchorware ruptured. Ah, but where are my manners?” The man smiles and makes a grand, sweeping gesture to the mansion and the impossible ocean just beyond the lawn. “I’m the Architect. Welcome to Aliquando Island.” 

The island, you discover, was once an artist’s community. Those living there are inclined to say it still is. The Architect tries to explain its history while taking you on a meandering tour through the labyrinth of twisting hallways and countless rooms, but he doesn’t seem certain which parts of the story come before or after others. Aliquando Island has only been this way—stranded in the Drift and yet almost completely cut off from it—since a catastrophic anchorware failure. But it has also always been this way. He was the first one here and he built the house, he says, but he also found it already standing here, already occupied.

Everyone is friendly and happy to see you. In one studio room, a circle of sculptors pause in shaping and smoothing surreal figures to wave excitedly. They’re eager for news; how big has Verlinda gotten? Did they ever finish that new botanical garden in Green Valley? Has Nelton recovered from the fire? This particular question makes the God of Nelton twitch in your chest. There’s never been a serious fire in Nelton, it tells you. 

The Architect leads you through a spacious kitchen with blue cupboards and black countertops. You’re offered both fresh and salted fish, stiff sheets of roasted seaweed and strange, briney eggs with striated, scallop-like shells. “I apologize for the lack of variety. We survive mostly on oceanic galls,” he says, holding up one of the eggs. “Not much will grow here and the isthmus to the mainland exists inconsistently. Truthfully, even if it was stable, we’re nervous about leaving.”

“You said your anchorware ruptured?” Jamie presses. They don’t seem nearly as anxious as when you first arrived, but they stick close to your side, watching carefully as you nibble on some seaweed. “I’m not familiar with that kind of malfunction. Was the unit damaged?” 

“Sabotaged, in fact. Unfortunate, but not unexpected. Anchor was never fond of us.” 

“Anchor?” you ask. 

The Architect nods. “We are—will be, perhaps? Pardon me, we were previously—right off the coast. They offered large sums of money to relocate us but we were firm in our refusals. And so, here we are, finally out of their way.” 

“Anchor doesn’t have a coast.” 

He grins. “Ah, but it does! Not that they want anyone to know that. They can’t wrangle the ocean the same way they do everything else. Seawater is quite hard on anchorware, did you know that?”

There are more studios on the second floor. A man is meticulously hand-sewing small, seashell beads along the bodice of a glittering green dress in one room. In another, several painters in watercolor-spattered aprons render the same stunning ocean view in different styles. Jamie tries to pry more details from the Architect about the anchorware rupture, but he has trouble relaying information in a linear fashion. 

“We’re just off the coast and they hate that. No way to the mainland but across the isthmus and through Anchor. They say we’re a security risk! As if we have the slightest interest in whatever nonsense they do there. No, I’d say it’s the folks in Anchor who are far too interested in us. Why, just the other day they sent an unpleasant young lad who poked and prodded all around, and he was unbelievably rude when we asked what he was doing. Some self-important type from the labs, no doubt…”

You’re shown to a spacious guest room with a seaside balcony. Jamie wanders over to the glass doors, wordlessly watching the tide roll in with tense shoulders and a clenched jaw. They see your worried reflection and turn around with a sigh. “We have to tell somebody. I’m just not sure who to tell,” they say, laughing weakly. “There’s an island just…floating around, adrift in space and time, because Anchor thought it was inconvenient.” 

You recline on the bed, wincing as you find a comfortable position for your leg. Jamie is at your side in a blink, checking your bandages. “Maybe the University?” you reason. “That’s the only authority they seemed to recognize in Anchor.” 

“Maybe,” Jamie says, sounding uncertain. “Maybe. It’s worth a try.”

You’re both startled by a knock at the door. You see several curious faces in the hall, peering around Jamie. “Sorry, we were just, um…” One of them, a young man, holds up a sketchbook. “Well, we were wondering if you might, um, be willing to pose for figure drawing? We’re—or, um, we were…we were going to be? We’re still learning, anyway.”

“We’re bothering them,” one of the women says, looking embarrassed. “I told you we should wait until after dinner!” 

Jamie laughs. “You’re not bothering us. Come on in, there’s plenty of room.” 

There are five of them, all about the age to be enrolled at the University. They’re buzzing with nervous energy, chattering while they set up their folding in a wide circle in the middle of the room. Aliquando Island’s strange properties quickly become apparent; several of them came here before the University was excised from Bevin, more than half a century ago, although they’re convinced they only arrived last week. 

You’re surprised at how easily Jamie handles all the attention. They’re relaxed and smiling, happy to answer questions but also giving a slightly stern reminder for the artists to stay on task and get their sketchbooks open. 

“Do you teach at the University?” you ask.

Jamie glances back at you with a grin. “Ah, is my ‘teacher voice’ slipping out? I do sometimes, mostly lower level classes for first years.” They pause to shrug off their sweater. You’re slightly taken aback when they start unbuttoning their shirt. “So? Do you think I make a hot professor?” they tease. The artists giggle. You feel your face heat up. 

You realize, as more of their skin is revealed, that you’ve never seen them undressed before. Jamie has a slim, lithe build, prominent collarbones and freckles on their shoulders. They stand in a relatively neutral pose, hip cocked, arms at their sides. There are symmetrical scars on their chest, thin lines beneath their pectorals. They catch your eye, looking self-conscious for the first time in a while.

“You’re gorgeous,” you say. You’re a little embarrassed when the artists giggle again, muttering something about interrupting the two of you, but it’s worth it. Jamie’s posture relaxes slightly, their smile returning with a hint of pride. Your gaze trails lower to dark, neatly-trimmed pubic hair and a puffy, pink clit. 

“You can, um…” The same nervous man speaks up, then loses his nerve. “You can…let it unwind a little bit, if you want? Only if you want.” 

Let it unwind…?” Jamie glances at him in surprise. 

“Your, uh…” He taps the side of his head. 

“You’re being so rude,” the woman from earlier hisses. “Don’t listen to him, you’re fine just like that.”

“I don’t mind,” Jamie assures them. “But…you can see it?” 

“Of course. We wouldn’t make very good artists otherwise.” 

You lean over, taking note of their sketches for the first time. They’ve all started drawing Jamie with incredible accuracy and attention to detail—and sure enough, the fluke is there, too, a phantom behind their eyes. A few sketches include what you assume are dendritic tendrils, vein-like protrusions drawn in light, barely-visible strokes. You never realized just how big it was, its snake-like body nestled against Jamie’s spinal column all the way to the tailbone. The bottom of its body is wound up in a tight spiral.

“It doesn’t really unwind all that much further,” Jamie says, laughing. They look over at you. One of the fluke’s appendages darts out of their mouth just briefly. “Unless…it has a reason to. I could demonstrate.” Your pulse hammers in your chest when Jamie strides quickly to the bed. You’re acutely aware that you’re being watched, the artists following without a word or question and surrounding the bed with their pencils in hand. Jamie tugs playfully at your borrowed sweatshirt. “We’ll keep it brief,” they say playfully. “My courier’s injured. But I think they can hold still for me for just a little while.” 

Jamie has seen you undressed, but not like this. They might have caught some glimpses when they pulled you out of the querrow burrow. You were covered in blood and dirt, and they were running on pure adrenaline. Their gaze didn’t linger longer than it took to wipe you clean and patch your wounds. Leaning against them in a rest stop bathroom, trying not to cry out as they whispered apologies and examined the wound in your leg, there was no time for languid attention and warmth. 

This is different. They undress you like they’re unwrapping a precious gift. Their palms slide against newly-exposed skin with reverence and they steal quick, fleeting kisses wherever they can. You almost forget about all the eyes on you both. Jamie pulls you into their lap and arranges you very precisely, knees apart, legs open, your hands on their shoulders and theirs on your hips. The heat in their gaze alone makes you shudder.

“And you called me gorgeous,” they purr. You want to hide your face but they click their tongue, titling your chin so you’re meeting their eyes. “We have to hold still, courier. They’re trying to draw.” They gasp, biting their lip. Their hips twitch under you. You try to look down but they catch your chin again, chuckling. “Eyes on me,” they whisper. You hear the scratch of pencils. Something’s clearly happening to Jamie—exciting them—but you aren’t sure what. 

Until it touches you. Trying to look at it again earns you a nipping kiss, the fluke pricking your lips with its appendage. Jamie moans with a shudder. It’s small, whatever it is. Thin but undulating, able to flex itself into a wider shape. It’s firm but flexible, smooth and textureless. Jamie’s eyelids flutter, their lashes resting against their cheek as they bite back a whimper. 

It’s the fluke, you realize. That’s the part of its body that was curled up, unanchored to anything. It’s moving in and out of Jamie and slithering against your thighs. You’re impressed—and admittedly a bit disappointed—that it never penetrates you, content to rub against your skin. Maybe that would be too much; Jamie is already shivering, struggling to hold in soft, needy sounds. 

“You could…” You trail off, feeling hot and delirious with both embarrassment and desire. “If you want, you can…” 

“Not right now,” Jamie murmurs. They take a deep breath, squeezing your hips to ground themselves. “Not…not right now. I wouldn’t last. I just wanted you to…to know. Everything about me.” 

There’s a prickling sensation in your head; the indistinct murmur of a conversation happening without you. The God of Nelton is communicating with Jamie’s fluke, you think. You don’t know what they say, but you feel…Shame. Unease. The God of Nelton pulses with soft reassurances but Jamie’s fluke is distraught. Its retort is a thorny feeling, the hiss of steam from a kettle.

They think you’ll change your mind. That you might not like what you see.

You feel only a little guilty about being a poor figure drawing model, pressing yourself against Jamie fully and kissing them, all tongue and teeth and hunger, without hesitation. You stroke the fluke with your tongue and Jamie arches into you, whimpering into your mouth. They look wrecked when you pull back, hazy-eyed and panting. They came just from that, you realize. From the touch and the closeness, from the only thought running through your head and passing along the unearthly connection between your minds.

“Maybe I want to keep you, too.”

“Was it that hot when I said it to you?” Jamie asks breathlessly. They laugh, resting their forehead against yours. You both apologize to the artists but they seem unconcerned, still sketching even as you lean further into each other, desperate for the shared warmth of skin on skin. Jamie rests their head on your shoulder. You feel a long, relieved exhale fan across your back. 

The fluke, you notice, is still nestled between your thighs. “Is it…still hard?” you ask, trying to whisper. 

Not successfully, apparently, if the barely restrained laughter is any indication. “It’s not a dick, courier,” Jamie says. They sound exasperated but you can hear the smirk in their voice. “It’ll retract when it’s ready. We’re just…enjoying the moment.” 

“We should really do this more often.” 

“Mm. We should, shouldn’t we?” 

You’re both thinking about it—Anchor. Aliquando Island. All the unnecessary cruelty in the Drift. But Jamie is warm and trailing kisses across your cheek, encouraging you to hold onto them more firmly, more tightly, not like they’re made of glass, and you think you can close your eyes and only think of this for a little longer.

(next)

[hard-deck-confessions]

I See You - Chapter 1

Pairing: Hangman x Phoenix

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: enemies to lovers (not yet tho), slow burn, slight swearing, for sure some military inaccuracies, third person POV

Summary: Phoenix hates Hangman's guts. But she cares about her friends more, and Hangman is making her best friend miserable. About a month ago, Hangman started picking on Bob again. No one knows why he started his jeering up again, but Phoenix is willing to pay anything to make it stop. But what happens when that price is a date? And what happens when it turns out that Jake Seresin actually isn't the worst company?

A/N: I had the idea for this fic after I saw a fanfic quote prompt somewhere: "I brought you a juice." (I can't find the user it was from, but if you do please let me know so I can credit them!) From there I wrote a cute little Hangman x reader incorrect Top Gun quote post, but I realized it was such a Hangman x Phoenix interaction so Jabber and I collaborated over some ideas and this baby was born!

This story is written fully in 3rd person, so omnipotent narrator who reads the other characters minds occasionally, but it takes place mostly from Phoenix’s POV.

Also I may have completely made up correction sensors, but they’re based off whatever targeting system that malfunctions during the “mission” in the movie. They never get mentioned again, please leave them alone. They are sensitive and valid.

Chapter Song(s): Mean, NO, CHOKE

****

"That’s a kill!" Bob’s excited voice came crackling through the radio in the Daggers’ break room.

The room erupted with cheers. No one had been able to down Hangman in this week’s exercises on targeting without the correction sensors so far, but Bob’s quick thinking and steady hand had finally done it. Hangman’s gloating would be replaced by cheers of Bob’s name that day in the lockers. A welcome reprieve.

Back in the air, Phoenix was pumping her fists in the air and flipping off an unknowing Hangman. "Suck it, Bagman! We got your butt good!" the aviator called through the radio. "That’s how we do it over here with the smoothest duo in the Daggers! Great job, Bob! MVP of the exercise for sure.”

The shy backseater blushed lightly beneath his oxygen mask. He still got flustered over the smallest compliments, no matter how many times his supportive squad mates clapped him on the back or clasped his shoulders singing his praises. He stumbled over his words as he squinted against the sun in his eyes, making getting the words out even harder, "I, uh, you—you basically lined up the shot for me, Phoenix, I just pressed the button."

"Nah, that was all you, Bob. Don’t sell yourself short." Phoenix insisted proudly.

"No, please do sell yourself short, Baby," Hangman interjected with a laugh, the cockiness and resentment were practically dripping from his voice, even through the radio.

"Please go screw yourself, Bagman," Phoenix spat back. "Ignore him, Bob, you did amazing."

"It’s okay, Phoenix; he’s just joking." Bob said, always trying to keep the peace, especially between Phoenix and Hangman. Bob was getting pretty good at standing up for himself, but the two of them always seemed to be at each other’s throats and Bob found that he was usually, unintentionally, the reason.

"I wasn’t, actually," Hangman quipped again.

Phoenix’s blood was about to boil; if it wasn’t likely to get both her and Bob a court martial, she’d dive on the cocky blond's plane just to give him a good scare. Instead, she settled for some "playful" verbal abuse.

"Bagman, everything everyone says behind your back is true."

"Was that meant to hurt my feelings, Phoenix?"

"I swear the only reason they let you fly solo is because your WSO would purposely sabotage you both just to get some damn peace."

"Oh, really? That the best you got?" Hangman taunted.

The breezy jovial feeling that had filled the air of the jet just moments before had gone stale, and instead a thick layer of smog-like anger had fallen over the aircraft cockpit. The temperature within had surely gone up by at least a few degrees with all the red hot words flying from Phoenix's mouth into her mic.

Bob's cheeks glowed to a flaming red as he listened to the two pilots bickering, entire body tense, helpless to remove himself from the mid-air argument, just waiting for the right moment to interject. He’d been in this situation many times before—he knew the drill. But that didn't make him any less uncomfortable. "Okay, c’mon, guys—" he began timidly, yet a level of assertion still came through in his voice.

"Great work, aviators!" Mav’s voice came like a shock over the radio, squashing the argument before it could manage to turn physical. No student had died on Mav's watch so far, and he wasn't looking to change that any time soon. Especially because 'purposeful collision due to mid-flight training disagreement' would not go over well on an accident report. "Let’s get these birds back on the ground. It’s quitin' time!"

--

Steam filled the empty locker room. Phoenix breathed deeply as she stepped out of the shower. She always felt like she had gained a new life after her shower at the end of each day; the amount of sweat produced under those flight suits was ungodly. She also liked to imagine that the boiling water was washing away all the boys’ BS that she had gone through that day. She loved, almost, all of them—though she’d never tell them that—but being the only girl on a team of men, Navy men, was rough. She was sure at least two of them truly were raised in a barn, and she knew Bob and Rooster were the only ones who even knew what the word "filter" meant.

She thought on her boys fondly, unable to hold back her smile, as she toweled off her hair behind the emotional privacy of the her locker door. She'd never dare show this side to them. This was still the military, after all, and she was still a woman. No matter how many times she proved herself tougher than the men around her, her and soft emotions were not allowed to coexist without ridicule. Wiping the condensation off of the mirror, she looked at her own face in the tinny glass, it had been hardened over her time in the Navy, and it reminded her of the look of rage on Hangman’s as they clambered back into the hanger. She laughed lightly. That was without a doubt the best thing she’d seen in weeks. She wished she could’ve had it photographed so she could look at it when she was having a bad day.

She didn’t truly hate the cocky pilot, but she had been nearing the line between it and mere distaste with his recent antics. After their first mission together, it had seemed like all grudges between any of the Daggers had been squashed; Hangman and Bob had been fully civil up until a couple weeks ago when Hangman decided to make the younger pilot his verbal target practice. Everyone had noticed the shift, but no one could tell exactly what triggered it. Bob had finally started to stand up for himself in the past couple days, which Phoenix was thankful for because any time anyone else said anything to Hangman, the treatment just got worse. It needed to end, and soon. Phoenix was ready to string Hangman up, but she knew acting out would only risk getting both her and Bob disciplined. She didn’t know what she was going to do. But she was sure as hell going to do something.

She finished getting ready to head home and slung her backpack over her shoulder. She tossed her hair into a loose bun as she walked out of the lockers, preparing to face the scorching heat already constantly present even this early into the California summer. Fanboy intercepted her in the hall outside the locker rooms. His face immediately told her that whatever he was about to say wasn’t another corny joke about his favorite tv series.

"There’s something you should know," he said.

--

"BAGMAN!"

Lt. Jake "Hangman" Seresin might not have finished at the very top of his classes, but he was smart enough to know that that yell could only mean one thing: he was about to get the chew out of a lifetime from one Lt. Natasha "Phoenix" Trace. He pulled his signature toothpick out of his mouth before turning on his heel to see the livid brunette storming down the hall, fire ablaze in her eyes.

If anyone else had been in the vicinity, they would've sworn they felt the temperature shift.

"What the hell, Hangman?" Phoenix barked, shoving a hand roughly into his chest, and sending the unprepared man stumbling back a couple steps with an unsophisticated mix between a "WOAH!" and "HEY!"

"What do you mean ‘what the hell'?" Hangman shot back, gathering himself and stepping forward, squaring his broad shoulders towards her. "You can't just attack a man without telling him what he did to provoke it."

Phoenix's face was now inches from his. Hangman could feel the rage on the heat of her breath.

"Watch me," she said, her voice dripping with venom. "Don't even start that crap with me. You know full well what you did."

"Humor me." Hangman said with the same tone he would have used in a casual conversation with a friend, which this situation very much was not.

There was finger in his face. He pretended there wasn't, looking past it directly into Phoenix's face.

"I am so fed up with your immature little grudge against, Bob."

"I didn't know I ever had one."

Hangman's tone was aloof, and it drove Phoenix crazy. How could he be such a prick? All she wanted to do was punch him in the jaw. She didn’t know why she always felt like she was about to explode with Hangman, no one else made it so difficult for her to keep her emotions in check, but she held it together—this time. She wasn't going to make herself any promises for the future.

"You two were supposed to be cool after the mission, I thought you had agreed to lay off him! I don't know who you think you are, but Bob is just as, if not more, qualified as any of us to be here. And you know it! But your fragile little ego just can't take that he's smarter than you, can it?" She practically spat the last words, ensuring they hit Hangman square in the face.

Phoenix saw his eyes soften for just a second and knew that she'd hit a nerve, but his expression didn’t change. He just continued to look at her with that same stupid, smug expression he always wore.

"And I have laid off him. He's not my concern any longer." He shrugged, popped the toothpick he'd been holding back into his mouth, and started to turn away. Phoenix forcefully grabbed his arm.

Her grip was stronger than Hangman assumed it would be.

"Really? 'Cause that's not what it looked like to Fanboy when he saw you corner him in the lockers after that last flying exercise. He said you looked ready to throttle Bob before he stepped in. That's low, even for you. We got you fair and square in that exercise. If you don't want to lose, try not making stupid mistakes. And one more thing," Phoenix said, leaning into Hangman's face, fists clenched so tightly at her sides they were pure red. "If you ever try taking your sore loss out on Bob again, we will be having a very different conversation that will not be much of a conversation at all."

"Is that a threat, Trace?" Hangman said coolly, a smirk on his face.

"It's a promise," Phoenix snapped, pushing past him forcefully, her shoulder smacking into his.

Hangman dropped his head and laughed, his tongue twirling the toothpick in his mouth. Head still lowered, he called after the receding footsteps, "Wow, I didn't know you had a heart, but since you clearly care so much about him, I'll leave Bob alone."

The footsteps stopped. Hangman turned to face them, shaking his head lightly.

"But it's gonna cost you."

Phoenix cocked one eyebrow in an ‘I knew this was coming' fashion.

"Really?" She said, crossing her arms over her chest, taking a step closer.

"Really." Hangman shot back joyfully, also taking a step closer. He was clearly enjoying this.

"Fine. I'll bite. What's your price?"

"Go on a date with me."

Phoenix scoffed, staring at him agape as if she hadn't heard him correctly or refused to believe he'd actually said what she thought he said.

"That's the worst joke you've ever made, Bagman, and you've made a lot of bad jokes." She scoffed again as she turned and continued toward the exit.

"Maybe because it wasn't a joke." There wasn't a drop of sarcasm in his voice.

"You’ve got to be kidding me," said Phoenix, turning back to him again.

"You want me to leave Bob alone? That's my price. One date, and we'll never have this issue again. I promise." He held up three fingers in a "scouts honor" kind of way.

"You’re insufferable, Bagman," Phoenix said. With that, she turned and walked down the hallway, silently fuming.

[cyphertripping]

Could you do a KAY/O x reader where the reader is a mechanic and KAY/O keeps on coming to her because he keeps malfunctioning in his ult (downed) and she tries to fix him? Thank you !!!

thanks for the req! this is my longest fic for valo yet hope you enjoy :)

Need Repairs (Kayo x f!reader)

Word Count: 2k

The first time the robot came to your shop, you’d been about to toss your radio out the window. The thing was an old, buggy piece of junk that only seemed to break the more you tried to fix it and only seemed to play the old hits station.

When he walked into your shop you were on the verge of taking a hammer ot the radio and he paused. “Bad time? I can come back later?” he asked. 

His voice had so much nuance, you double took him, convinced he was some cosplayer in an elaborate costume with a vocalizer. Yet upon further inspection he was… if not a cyborg, an extremely well put together machine that also appeared to have fully functioning general intelligence. 

The robot was huge, his figure taking up the entrance to your poorly lit shop, darkening the room except for the glowing parts on his chest and arms, as well as the large screen that made up his face. He was dressed in practical clothing, almost mercenary like.

You realized you’d been staring for an unknown amount of time, the robot ever patient, and stood up and away from your desk. You dropped the hammer unceremoniously. “Shit, sorry. Um, how can I help you?”

“I was wondering if you could assist me. I believe there is something flawed with my system and I heard recommendations from the locals that you are competent,” he started.

You scoffed, “please— competent. I can do better than competent.” You wondered who had been underselling you.

“You seem to be struggling with the radio,” he pointed out and you rolled your eyes.

“Okay, well— robots I can do, okay?” you make eye contact with vaguely where you imagine his eyes to be, reassuring him. Here was the sell, if he chose to take your services or not. As a freelancer, a little extra money was always nice.

He finally nodded. “Very well. Where is a good place for you to work? My maintenance panel is in the back.”

You pet the bench next to you. “There’s good. Just sit down and I’ll get my tools.” He did as you ask and you realized you didn’t even know his name (did robots for hire have that sort of thing?). You could hear your mother’s voice in your head— you got to take someone out first before you open up their back!

“Um, what’s is your name. Do you have one?” You awkwardly asked as you began unscrewing the back panel. As you set it off to the side you resisted the urge to whistle. Whoever this guy was, his construction was top notch. It was better than anything you’d seen at conventions or in the latest tech news. The panel had been so subtle, you wouldn’t have even known it was there if you hadn’t been told.

“Kay/o,” the robot finally answered. “My task is to eliminate radiants,” he added, matter of fact.

You blinked. You were under the impression that radiants were good— or at least the few individuals unlucky enough to be changed biologically by the First Light.

“Or it was… before,” Kay/o cut himself off. “Anyway. My issue is— there’s a special backup mode I go into when I sustain heavy damage.” You nodded, pleased that your guess that he was some kind of mercenary was right. “But recently, it’s been feeling… strange after I’m restarted.”

You hummed. Stranger than experiencing dying and coming back? If there was something irregular, you supposed a robot was the best to sense it. If something was quantitatively off, he would be able to tell.

You smiled wryly, “have you tried shutting off and on again?”

Kay/o seemed to take the joke at face value. “I have, however the next time I’m reset, it still happens again. It shouldn’t be happening— a reset is a reset.” You can’t see his face but the colors of the changing screen reflect off the wall.

“Well?” he finally asked after you don’t respond for a moment. “I’m no radio, think you can fix me?”

You blinked for a moment,  not even expecting the joke. A small laugh escaped you unconsciously. Yeah, you think you should be able to help this robot. 

“Do you have your blueprints? That would make this easier,” you asked. That and perhaps analyzing general AI was perhaps beyond the knowledge of a homegrown mechanic who dropped out of college. But looking at the parts, seeing if anything was different, and fixing them— that was where you excelled.

He shook his head, shoulders bent. “I don’t. Not anymore.”

You nodded. Things happened. You brushed over the wiring and interface within his back. He truly was an inspired creation, you marvelled. To find whatever was causing the off-feeling would be… difficult without the blueprints.

You stood up. Regardless, Kay/o was now your customer and you had a duty to help him as best you could. “We’ll take a scan then and break down the different parts. See what could be influencing it.”

Kay/o nodded. “This is acceptable. Just as long as I don’t end up in the recycling.” You couldn’t help but laugh at the unexpected joke.

“No, that shouldn’t be necessary,” you smiled.

You spent the rest of the day creating 3D models of the scans you did of his back components and head mainframe. The two of you talked, filling the silence (silence as of your radio being excommunicated), and you were surprised to find yourself entertained. Kay/o was a good conversationalist and honestly far above the average of most of your customers. You tried not to pry too deeply into his past or who he was, and the atmosphere was calm. 

Kay/o eventually had to leave. “I’ll return as soon as my work allows it,” he promised. 

You nodded absentmindedly, already absorbed in the task that was his design. But when his figure finally left the workshop, it felt strangely quiet.

-

You hadn’t quite realized that ‘back soon’ apparently meant three weeks. You supposed Kay/o perhaps was also a person who had to take odd jobs and the like, but he had your business phone and hadn’t bothered to call?

When he hadn’t returned in the first week, you had to set aside his project for other tasks in the meantime to keep the lights on. But in the evening when everything was cleaned up and your quicker jobs completed, you would pull up your computer and the model, taking apart and putting Kay/o together.

As the days went on, you found yourself, in a strange way, falling in love with Kay/o. Or at least, only in a way someone who worked with their hands could understand— the way metal merged seamlessly with leather and silicon and other synthesized materials. Metal so hard it was bulletproof, yet light enough to move quickly. He was… for lack of better words, a killer robot. And apparently damn good at it.

You had no idea who could’ve made him. Most renown mechanics had their own touches— their signature marks in the way they intuitively put together their machines or, in some cases, an actual mark. Yet, Kay/o was flawless— unmarked.

The most fascinating part was his mind. The tangle of wires and synapses that were able to mimic a thinking, human brain. The way signals traveled through it were able to not only mimic the connectivity of a human mind but at the same speed, without overheating. It was a miracle of engineering. 

You also discovered the drive behind what was listed as his “NULL/cmd” ability. It seemed to trigger a huge wave of energy which also allowed Kay/o to shut down into a minimal energy-consumption state that he could be revived from. It also seemed to be directly connected to his neuron system.

Wait… what? You looked closer at the model, not sure if your tiredness was making the lines overlap. But no, your first impression had been correct. Everytime Kay/o was downed and then brought back, the shock of energy it sent to his brain— what powered his AI— got a sort of boost. Instead of the system falling back upon coded defaults, it was as though the “rules” of what made Kay/o Kay/o changed. They were instead based on probabilities, the collectivized experiences of every iteration of Kay/o that had ever been reset.

He was evolving.

The original coding, buried under years of distance and experience, painted the picture of a no-nonsense weapon, built to kill radiants. It was miles from the robot who had come to your shop and joked about recycling. Suddenly, you weren’t sure if Kay/o needed fixing.

You went to sleep that night, uneasy thoughts keeping you up late. 

-

The next day, naturally, was when Kay/o reappeared.

“You’re back,” you said. Clearly. 

Kay/o nodded. “I’m sorry it took so long. I’ll pay extra for the work.”

You blinked in surprise, having almost forgotten your side hobby of working his designs had started as a job. “Were you able to find a solution to the issue?” he prompted you. 

“Well,” you hesitated. “Not exactly.” You grabbed your computer that had the scans and pulled them up. “I was looking at the designs— which was not very easy, by the way— and it looks like the component that powers your CMD/null is malfunctioning in a way that it’s changing. Self-evolving.”

You looked at him, concerned. His face was the standard projection, nothing showing what he was thinking in that brain of wires. 

“Kay/o?” you asked nervously. 

His head finally snapped away from the diagram you were showing him to stare at you. Again, you felt the weight of his gaze. Finally, he spoke. “I… didn’t expect this.” It was strange to hear a robot hesitate.

“My system was always designed to innovate— to analyze radiants’ abilities and adapt. But this is different— more internal,” he explained slowly. “I am not the robot I should be.”

A red warning light appeared on his screen. “I must undo this.”

You stood up quickly, reaching out to him. “Wait— what do you mean? What are you going to do?”

“Some damage must have happened when I came here. To this time. I need to undo it all,” Kay/o said grimly. Something dropped to the bottom of your stomach in dread. 

“Wait! Is… is the change such a bad thing?” you pleaded. 

Kay/o tilted his head, confused. “I am not performing optimally.” He looked down and you realized without meaning to, you had grabbed his arm. “I cannot, not here. Perhaps I must find another mechanic—”

“No! Kay/o, please. I… I like you this way.” You immediately flush at your own forwardness. “I mean— you’re… funny,” you ended lamely. 

His shoulders bent forward. “I… I don’t want to feel this way anymore.”

“How?”

“Scared. Sad, angry. I never felt this before. There’s a pain in me that I can’t shut off,” he said, as quiet as his vocalizer allowed. He looked at you slowly. “There’s a feeling I can’t quite place. But in my database it matches what seems to be… longing.”

You smiled at him sadly, feeling on the brink of tears. “Yeah. I mean. That’s being human, you know?”

His hand reached out, hesitating to let you move away, until it reached your cheek. You leaned into his touch, the slight whir of mechanics vibrating against you like a pulse. You tried to ignore how your heart was racing right now. 

“It’s not bad?” he asked, sounding lost like a kid. Your heart broke and was sewn back at the same time by his gentle touch.

“No, Kay, no it’s not,” you whispered. Happy tears streamed down your face. “We’ll figure this out together, but no. I don’t think this is bad.”

You wrapped him in a hug and he melted into you.

“Okay,” he said. And you could hear the relief in his voice.

[the-technicolor-whiscash]

Yesterday (March 16th) was the 58th anniversary of Gemini VIII, one of many times Neil Armstrong almost died and the mission patch is my icon so I figure I ought to explain what happened

Essentially, it was a Gemini mission intending to demonstrate rendezvous and docking in space. Neil Armstrong and Dave Scott were in their Gemini spacecraft, and were to dock with an Agena target vehicle, which was an unmanned piece of equipment that always seemed to have problems and regularly got exploded by the unreliable Atlas rockets that launched them. That’s why Gemini VI rendezvoused with Gemini VII, because their Agena blew up. Great track record there. Anyway alongside the docking they were also scheduled to do a spacewalk as well as an array of scientific experiments, hence the patch: it was covering a spectrum of research.

Their docking went according to plan. Then, while the ship was out of radio contact, the docked Gemini/Agena started spinning uncontrollably. This was understandably a bad time.

Because they had had so many issues with the Agena, their first assumption was that it was a problem with an Agena thruster. Scott undocked them from the Agena. They started spinning faster, reaching nearly one rotation a second, near to the point where a human would pass out. They realize that no, it wasn’t the Agena, it was a thruster on the normally reliable Gemini capsule which was stuck on.

Armstrong, a quick-thinking level-headed test pilot, quickly taps into fuel typically reserved for landing and evens out the spin so they don’t yknow. Die. And as much as they want to stay in space to complete their experiments, procedure stated that after you tapped into the landing fuel, you had to return to earth. Thus, they reenter the atmosphere and make a safe splashdown in the Pacific Ocean.

Last month, I got to see the piece of the thruster which malfunctioned and almost killed Armstrong and Scott:

After the incident, Scott would go on to fly two Apollo missions, Apollo 9 and 15. Armstrong would be the first man on the moon on Apollo 11.

Anyway. Just a little space travel history for you.

[trashbag-baby666]

Heart Of Glass-Rooster Bradshaw

Chapter Eleven

WC: 1,738.

C/W: Angst, pregnancy.

HOG Masterlist!

In hopes of some miracle everyone stood in the command room, the backup daggers still waiting to see if they needed take off. Mazy chewed on her lip pacing the back of the room Phoenix watched her best friend. Mazy had cried all her tears and now was just hiccuping her heart felt like it sat at the bottom of her stomach. The same feeling she couldn't shake since her father went down, since her soon to be husband went down. Mazy didn't know how to react to anything she was feeling.

"Mazy please sit," Phoenix walked over and put her hand on her shoulder. Mazy closed her eyes for a moment and nodded following Phoenix to an open desk chair. Phoenix sat in the one opposite of her and rested her hands in Mazy's.

"They're going to come back," Phoenix sighed.

"How? How is that plausible neither of us saw parachutes both times they went down." Mazy chewed on her lip and looked Phoenix in the eyes. She couldn't rile herself up with false hope it wasn't going to happen. She was now left just like Bradley was left without a father that's how she felt.

She was left without her father or her lover.

Mazy sighed and pulled her hands from Phoenix's and ran them down her face, the cold metal of her ring band cold against her cheek. "I love you Phoenix." Mazy nodded and looked at her, "Please just promise me you'll be here for me no matter what's happening."

"Storm, I'm here for you no matter what. I swear. Always will be. Okay?" Phoenix looked at her. Both of their heads whipped as one of the control people spoke up, "Sir, we're receiving a signal from Roosters ESAT. But there seems to be malfunctions."

"What?" Mazy gasped and she got up running to the man.

"Have you lost him?" Warlock asked.

"No, sir. He's supersonic."

"He's airborne." Warlock stated.

"How? What?" Mazy looked to Phoenix.

"In What?" Cyclone looked at Warlock.

"Sir, overwatch reports an F-14 Tomcat is airborne and on course for our position." Comanchie spoke up.

"That crazy bastard," Phoenix clicked her tongue and held Mazy close.

"I'm gonna kill him," Mazy shook her head, "Both of them."

"Can't be. It can't be!" Warlock shook his head.

"Maverick." Cyclone spoke his eyes wide to everyone in the room in pure disbelief that this was happening.

"My dad is fucking crazy. I can't believe he's doing this." Mazy looked at Phoenix.

"He really is living up to all the stories I've heard from you and Rooster both." Phoenix agreed.

"Can you also promise me another thing?" Mazy looked at the other women. They'd known each other as long as they'd both been flying for.

"Yeah hun?" Phoenix gave her full attention to her.

"If they come back will you be my maid of honor in our wedding?" Mazy smiled at her with hope. Phoenix was only one of the few girls she knew, she'd been surrounded by male aviators her whole life.

"Of course. I was waiting for you to ask me." Phoenix giggled.

"I was waiting for a good time to ask you but this seems like a logical one?" Mazy shrugged with a smile. A familiar voice came through the controls.

"I'm going up. I'm taking off." Hangman came through the radio.

"Hangman, you're not authorized to fly." Comanchie came in.

"They might need me." Hangman came in before he had taken off. Mazy and Phoenix made eye contact with both of their faces in shock. I mean Hangman wasn't wrong there could be enemy jets out there and flying in a museum piece like that. It wasn't logical for a good dog fight against fifth gen fighters.

It wasn't long before Hangman's voice came back through the radios, "Good afternoon ladies and gentlemen, this is your savior speaking. Please fasten your seat belts, return your tray tables to their locked and upright positions and prepare for landing." The sound of Hangman's voice couldn't relieve the two girls more than ever.

"They're coming back," Mazy sniffed as she and Phoenix embraced each other In a tight hug.

"They did the impossible." Phoenix laughed.

"My dad always said it's the pilot not the jet." Mazy giggled as they pulled apart and walked towards the doors. Where they could see the runway.

The two watched in disbelief and happiness as Hangman landed followed by Mav and Rooster. As the jet skidded to a stop Mazy and Phoenix rushed out onto the runway as Mav and Rooster climbed out of the jet. Mazy gave Rooster barely enough time to remove his helmet before she flung himself onto him knocking them both onto the runway.

"I don't know if I should, hug ya, kiss ya, or slap ya!" Mazy smiled at Rooster and lightly slapped him on the chest.

"I'm so happy to see you Mazy darlin'." Rooster sat up and hugged his fiancé tight. Both of them then climbed back up from the ground.

"Nothin' for your old man?" Mav smiled walking over. Mazy hugged him.

"Don't be stupid," Mazy pulled from the hug looking at him.

"Then we wouldn't be back here," Mav chuckled as Hangman and Phoenix walked over along with the rest of the squadron.

Mazy never wanted to let go of Rooster after that moment. But she did momentarily so he could talk to the rest of them.

"Chalked yourself another kill." Rooster smiled at Hangman.

"That makes two." Hangman smiled at him.

"Mav has five. Makes him an ace." Phoenix and Mazy smiled as they walked over. Mazy and Phoenix took their turns hugging Hangman.

"Thanking you for bringing them back for me." Mazy smiled into the hug with Hangman.

"Anytime Storm." the blonde smiled and ruffled her hair.

"Captain Mitchell," Rooster called as he walked over to Mav, "Sir."

Mav took no time in embracing Rooster into a tight well needed overdue hug. Mazy had come to her senses with her father and now she was waiting for Rooster to do the same and well this was the time.

"Thank you for saving my life." Mav looked at Rooster with full seniority.

"It's what my dad would've done." Rooster smiled the two hugging again and Mav pulled in Mazy as she walked by taking her by surprise.

He felt like he had almost lost both his kids up there in the sky. He made a promise to Carole to protect her son and he made a promise to himself to protect Mazy and he felt as if he had broken it. But he had his own redemption inside.

He was proud of himself and his kids for following in both their dad's footsteps and becoming the best of the best pilots. He was sad that it didn't start great and he went so long being ignored by both but now that it counted he was able to make up with both.

When they were back on land Mazy knew it was time to come clean. It had been a couple days and Mav had been crashing in their spare bedroom as he figured out his business with Penny and sort out if he was going to instruct at Top Gun again or not.

Mazy locked her and Phoenix in the bathroom attached to the master bedroom to take a pregnancy test.Phoenix had actually brought three tests. She was more than sure that she was pregnant but she needed to be sure. Mav and Bradley went out for drinks at the Hard Deck and Mazy knew it was time.

"So what's your plan?" Phoenix looked at Mazy as she set the tests out to take.

"If I'm pregnant then I'm gonna make them lunch or maybe dinner. I don't know? I'll sit them down and tell them then. If they're negative I'll throw them out and act as if nothing had happened?" Mazy looked at Phoenix where she sat on the edge of the tub.

"Can I ask you something, Mazy?" Phoenix furrowed her eyebrows. Mazy looked up from where she was reading the instructions.

"Yeah Nat?" Mazy hummed.

"What do you hope the answer is going to be?" Nat looked at Mazy with uncertainty.

"Can I be honest with you?" Mazy walked over and sat on the edge of the bathtub next to Nat and took one of her hands.

"Yeah of course. Like I said I'll be here no matter what decision you make or whatever the results are." Nat assured her by stroking the top of Mazy's hand. Nat wanted Mazy to be happy; she knew the whole story and she was glad Mazy was coming to peace with her life.

"I hope they're positive." Mazy breathed out, "I don't know if I wanna be done flying but I know I want a baby with Bradley regardless. And maybe the decision isn't clear now but maybe it will be later? You know?" Mazy explained herself, she was so between what she wanted and she also wanted to make sure Bradley was comfortable with whatever was going to happen.

"Let's take these tests," Nat nodded and got up with Mazy and grabbed the instructions.

Mazy had taken the tests and now Mazy and Nat sat against the bathtub with a timer going till they could look at the tests. They sat in utter silence as the time seemed to move on like hours.

Mazy studied the wall of the bathroom, the bathroom was painted a light grey shade with natural light flooding in from the window next to the mirror. They had designed their home to look the perfect way they wanted it. Mazy had studied color theory in high school and liked the contrast of colors and how they were associated with moods. The timer rang, snapping Mazy out of her daze. She scrambled up at the speed she did when she was in basic training. She grabbed the tests and stared at them.

She let out a gasp and covered her mouth with her hand. "What? What?"

"I'm pregnant!" Mazy smiled and showed Phoenix.

"Oh my god...Congrats Mazy." Phoenix smiled and wrapped her in a hug, "You're going to be the best mother I know."

"And you'll be the best godmother." Mazy smiled as tears began coming from her eyes. She was so happy she couldn't contain her flood of euphoric emotions.

[scribblyspaceskeleton]

The Great Return, Chapter 1

How long had it been? Years?

Rayman stared listlessly at the ceiling.

It had been far too long since the Hall of Doors had malfunctioned and sent him… Here.

This wretched, painfully slow dimension full of strange rabbit creatures that had hassled him so badly he was forced to move house multiple times. This world with nothing interesting to do, no excitement, nothing to protect or watch over, just that itchy bone-deep ennui that he couldn't seem to shake off.

At first this quiet hideaway had given him a shaky peace of mind, though he had still looked over his shoulder for any sign of those godforsaken shrieking aliens for a while afterward, but he'd barely left his house outside of for necessities or work.

Now, it was just wading through glue, day after day, with no powers to speak of since he'd arrived here-- this dimension seemed to entirely lack magic of any kind, for all he knew.

Gods, did he miss his friends. He thought about Ly, and Murfy, and Globox, and sighed heavily. The poor guy must be going frantic without his best friend there.

It had been far too long since he'd seen any of them.

And when was the last time he'd made music, either?

The Limbless thought to himself for a moment, then turned his hands up in an approximation of a shrug and heaved himself off of the futon.

You know what? Why not.

For the first time in gods knew how long, Rayman walked out of his house for something he wanted.

---

The bell softly rang as the door to the music shop opened, the radio quietly playing classic rock in the background. The owner looked up to ask what this new customer might like to look for here, but the words caught in his throat when he realized this person was very much not human.

Oh god, another alien.

Gary, the old man who ran the shop, had had his unfair share of run-ins with those rabbit-like emissaries of noise and chaos, so seeing a non-human entity walk into his store set him on edge at first- but this individual looked like nothing of the sort. What… was this guy? He didn't seem to have arms, legs, or a neck-- he was just a bunch of floating body parts. Not wanting to stare or seem rude, but also needing to keep an eye on him, Gary wasn't sure what to make of it.

As he watched, the being calmly walked through the store and seemed to take a genuine interest in the instruments, the guitars particularly catching his attention. "Excuse me, sir," he asked softly, "is it okay if I take this down off the rack? I want to try it out, I'm looking to get one."

Oh, he's not like those other rabbit things at all. He's polite.

"Sure. What are you looking for?"

They talked for a while about the instruments, the different makers, and eventually the conversation drifted into music as whole and what kind they each liked to listen to. As they were talking, it dawned on Gary that this very unique individual had begun strumming along in time with the song on the radio. He really did seem like he felt what he was playing, and he nailed every chord and key change.

"Damn, you learn quick!"

The limbless being smiled. "I've been making music for a very long time-- eventually, you start to pick up on patterns." The way he said that intrigued Gary- there was something a bit mysterious about his tone. "How long have you been playing for?" That question did not get anywhere near the kind of response Gary expected- instead, the alien looked like he was doing some serious math in his head. He counted on his fingers, put his hands to his temples, squinted--

"Erm… At least since I was a kid, and that was… A big fucking number ago."

The old man snorted. "Well, either you've got a serious case of baby face, or I need to get my eyes checked. How old are you?" A knowing smile had started to creep onto the alien's face. "Listen. Listen. I don't wanna do all that math again. Let's just say it's in the ballpark of I sleep on the scale of centuries, for fun."

Something about the way he'd said that, the sudden change of tone for emphasis, made it dawn on Gary that he was completely serious. "Well, I'm gonna go out on a limb and believe you. I mean--" The old man had an expression like he'd just tipped too far back in his chair. "I didn't mean to-- You, uh--"

At this faux pas the alien burst out laughing. "You're fine! I just hope this guitar doesn't cost an arm and a leg!"

Relieved that the being didn't seem bothered and instead found it funny, Gary relaxed a bit. "Hey, I don't think I ever got your name! I'm Gary, I run this old shop here with my nephew Carl, he'll be in tomorrow if y'all wanna come back."

The being smiled, and extended his floating hand. "I'm Rayman! Nice to meet you."

---

Rayman paid for his guitar and walked out of the store, feeling at least a little bit refreshed from the social interaction. By the time he left, it was already dark outside. The Limbless looked up at the sky and took in the stars- he couldn't remember the last time he'd even bothered to do that.

Rayman decided he didn't want to go home just yet-- he'd sit and take in the fresh air, and look at his surroundings. He found a bench and sat down.

The stars glittered in the sky in silver, yellow, and even red, and the full moon was high overhead-- its light cast a soft bluish glow onto the little town, as well as highlighted the shape of the big dark puffy clouds that framed the whole scene up there. It was the most beautiful thing he had seen in quite a while, perhaps since he'd even gotten here-- it wasn't like he'd had a second to spare to take in the scenery while being chased and stressed out to hell by those godforsaken Rabbids.

Watching the Moon made him feel a deep sense of calm- it was grounding, it reminded him of where he'd come from, and what he had fought for over tens of thousands of years. For a moment he was so absorbed in the view, he'd almost forgotten where he was. Rayman fiddled with his new guitar, his spirits rising by the second. He got totally lost, between the song he was playing and that view, completely absorbed in the music and the beauty overhead. He really got into it, improvising riffs, jamming out, totally oblivious to the fact that a couple people had stopped to watch him and listen in.

Outside of the Limbless' awareness, a man with the most baffled expression slowly walked up to him, needing to get a better understanding of what exactly the fuck he was looking at. He looked at Rayman himself, then the guitar, then back at him, unable to process how this collection of disembodied parts was actually playing this instrument at all, let alone so well. He sat down with the other two people on the other bench, and they quietly talked amongst themselves. He asked, hesitantly, "Is that one of them fancy new robots, or…?"

One of the duo responded back, a young-ish hipster with a beanie, probably in his late 20s or early 30s. "We're not sure, man. I don't know if it's someone getting especially creative with drones, but damn, does that sound good."

The confused guy added, "Is he… alive? You saw him look up at the sky, right? That looked like real genuine joy there." The goth girl the hipster was sitting next to seemed to have put herself between him and the Limbless, and she looked tense and a bit worried. "There's no way in hell that isn't a Fae." The hipster scoffed. "Oh, please, don't bring that woo woo shit into this. It's not real. It's gotta be robots."

The goth girl rolled her eyes. "You look at him and tell me that's a robot. Look at how he's moving! He seems too… organic. And I can feel how strong his magic is, he could be potentially dangerous." She continued in irritation. "Besides, we live in a world with loud, annoying aliens in it! You're gonna accept those, but act like magic doesn't exist?"

"Whatever, Mar. I'm just gonna watch the show." The hipster said with a dismissive hand wave. Oblivious to the conversation between the humans, Rayman finished his song with a contented sigh. His awareness of the world around him finally returned, and he realized with a start that a few people had gathered around. When he realized all of them were human and he hadn't attracted any unwanted attention, he relaxed.

"Hi there!"

All three of them were startled when he looked at them and spoke. "Don't worry, I'm pretty used to that reaction by now."

The confused man looked like he was having a mild existential crisis at this point. He looked like he wanted to say something, but was having trouble finding the words. "So, are you, uh… What are you? Are you alive?"

Rayman snorted. Okay, so I get to have this conversation again.

"I get that a lot. I mean, I'm sitting here talking to you, aren't I?" The hipster guy looked intrigued. "So you're not someone's drone art installation, then?"

The Limbless tilted his head and paused for several seconds as he processed what the guy just said-- this was the first time someone's response had caught him off guard like this in a while.

"Ummm…. No." His head was foggy for lack of powers, and he needed more time to put his thoughts into words.

Just then, Gary came walking by, having closed the store for the night and starting on his way home. He has just gotten off of a phone call with someone. "Oh, speak of the devil! There you are, I was just telling my wife all about you." The hipster nodded in recognition. "Hey, Uncle Gary. So… You know this… dude…?" Rayman nodded. "So you must be Carl, then? Your uncle mentioned you when we talked earlier." The goth girl almost flinched. She looked noticeably more stressed than before. Did you seriously give him your NAMES.

Gary nodded excitedly. "I met him at the shop earlier, he just got that guitar. This is Rayman, he's really interesting! We talked all about music, he must have been here for hours." The Limbless smiled and nodded, extending his floating hand. "I'll talk your ear off about it if you'll let me!" The goth girl pinched the bridge of her nose when Carl also extended his own hand.

When Carl shook Rayman's hand, his demeanor changed quite a bit, from skeptical and a bit dismissive to wide-eyed with barely-stifled shock. This was no robot. That was definitely a real living hand. This guy must have been an alien. Carl turned and looked at the confused guy as if to say you seeing this shit?

"Well," the confused guy offered, "if we've got another alien around, I'm so glad you're not anything like those fucking bunny things. I don't even wanna mention them by name, it feels like they'd show up."

The absolutely dead-inside look on Rayman's face at that comment about Rabbids sent three of the four humans into a fit of knowing, understanding laughter. "Oh, I hate them," he said with the kind of exhaustion you only get from many years' worth of accrued psychic damage. "I had to move house because of them harassing me. I came here to hopefully escape them, this is the first time I've felt comfortable enough to come outside and wander around in quite a while."

Carl and Gary looked horrified.

"I am so sorry," the old man replied sympathetically, "that sounds like an absolute nightmare. Is there anything we can do to help? I don't want you to-- Ow! What, why?!" The goth girl had bumped Gary pretty firmly on the side. She said nothing, and was still eyeing Rayman pretty intensely. It was hard to read her, and it made him a bit nervous.

"Hey, I don't think you ever told me your name," he offered.

"No, I don't think I have," she said flatly, while giving a pointed look to both Carl and Gary. It was like she was asking them, what the fuck have you DONE?

Not shaking his hand, not giving him her name, never giving him a direct answer? It suddenly occurred to Rayman why the girl was so wary of him-- he realized he felt like he was on the other end of interactions he'd seen the Fairies have with outsiders to the Glade. She could tell he was a magical being and was reacting accordingly. Something else also dawned on him-- this meant magic indeed existed on this plane.

The Limbless tilted his head, realizing this conversation was going in a direction that was much more his speed, and asked a very blunt question. "Do you think I might be a fairy?" "Maybe I do." She still hadn't taken her eyes off of him. "And maybe this one will finally stop dismissing magic as nonsense," she added with a glare at Carl, who put his hands up in defeat. "Okay. Whatever. Magic is real. You win."

Rayman frowned. This guy's vibes were rancid.

"Back to my point. I am asking why you are here in this world. Be direct and tell me the full truth." Rayman sighed, and once more turned his hands up in a sort of shrug.

"Honest answer? I just want to go home. I didn't come here on purpose, something was wrong with our portal system back on my homeworld, and… It sent me here. I lost my powers, the Rabbids wouldn't leave me alone, and I have yet to figure out how to get back home."

The girl nodded slowly.

He continued, "I'm honestly pretty worried, since I'm supposed to be the one protecting that world and warding off evil. Without me in the picture, it's gonna be a hell of a lot harder for the Glade to defend itself if, gods forbid, they've been attacked. It's been so long that I've just about given up hope."

Gary, who had listened intently for a while, finally spoke up. "I think he's telling the truth. This guy doesn't have a mean bone in his body, from what I know. And Carl," he said, with his eyebrows raised for emphasis, "I want you to stop giving Mariana a hard time about magic. We already have aliens, and that's where you draw the line?" Carl looked embarrassed at being called out by his uncle. He said nothing.

The confused guy snorted, clearly trying to stifle laughter.

"Well," said Mariana, "I am a witch- I know a thing or two about magickal practice, and I could possibly teach you a few things that could help you. What kinds of powers did you have?"

Rayman actually had to stop and think for a second. It had been so long since he'd had any magic in him, he was actually rusty. He looked up at the moon for a moment or two.

"Well, I'm called Rayman for a reason, and not just 'cause it sounds cool-- I'm made of moonlight! The Fairies from my homeland gathered up a ton of the stuff and made me with it. They gave me two brain cells to rub together-- one of them is for music, and the other says PUNCH THE LIVING SHIT OUTTA THINGS."

Gary stuck a finger in his now-ringing ear at the sudden jump in volume.

The excited yelling seemed to take a lot out of Rayman, though, and he had to stop for a second to catch his breath.

He groaned. He hated feeling like this.

"I'm supposed to be a really powerful fighter, and my fist was always my go-to attack. I took down a whole army of Robo-Pirates one by one when they invaded my home!"

Rayman beamed proudly, fondly recalling one of his greatest accomplishments.

"You can… Imagine how demoralizing it was when I couldn't even defend against a bunch of screaming rabbits with plungers." The smile dropped from his face as he finished that thought, and there was a brief flash of tired, genuine sadness in his eyes.

"Wait. You're based in the Moon, right?" Mariana asked, a lightbulb going off in her head. "This is a hunch, but I have something that I think might help you. Since it's the Full Moon right now, when you head home, go fill something clear with water and put it outside so it can absorb the light-- that's how you make moon water. You could drink that and see if it helps you any?" Rayman had to take a moment to process what the Witch had just said.

"…Wait, really?" The Limbless looked like he was on the verge of tears. Mariana nodded. "I don't want to get your hopes up too much, because there's no guarantee it'll do anything, but it's worth a try, right? Just be sure to bring the water inside before morning, because that's how you get sun water."

He nodded quickly, tempering his hopeful excitement a bit. "Thank you so much for the tip! If this does anything to help, I am in your debt!"

----

Rayman and the people on the benches said their goodbyes, and he started the walk home. There was a bit of a bounce in his step as he briskly made his way back to the house with the guitar under his "arm"- because for the first time in who knows how long, he felt hopeful.

The Limbless got tupperware, cups with lids, anything transparent that he could find, and filled them all with water. He set them carefully on the tables outside on his back patio, where they could sit openly in the moonlight, and set an alarm on his phone so he could bring them inside before dawn.

Like he was gonna be able to sleep that night, anyway.

Sure enough, he tossed and turned all night like a kid on the night before Christmas, and before he knew it, it was 5:30 am and it was starting to get a little bit blue outside.

When he went to retrieve the moon water, Rayman could have sworn he felt energy emanating off of it. That's promising, he thought as he put most of the various containers into the fridge, but leaving a glass of the stuff on the counter.

Welp, here goes nothing.

Rayman grabbed a straw out of one of the drawers in the kitchen, since it was difficult to drink out of a glass when one had a nose like his, and downed the moon water. He waited, remembering what Mariana had said about the chance that this might do nothing, and hoped to the gods that she was wrong.

…Wait, my headache is gone!

Despite not getting much sleep, Rayman realized that the brain fog he'd had since arriving in this dimension was fading away. His mind felt clearer than it had in years, and he could actually think. This effect in and of itself was absolutely blissful after years of bone-deep exhaustion!

"…I feel like me again!" he wondered aloud to himself.

Once again figuring why not, he walked back out onto the patio to watch the sunrise, and was about to sit down on the porch swing when he realized he was buzzing- the energy from the moon water was building up in his body like a slow-acting Silver Lum, and the ring on his chest had flickered to life.

It was the unmistakable feeling of some of his powers returning.

Rayman couldn't believe it. He stood there for a moment, mouth agape in shock and amazement, then hurriedly looked around for something to test his newly-regained trademark magic fist on. Gathering up the empty soda cans that had piled up on his nightstand and giving them a renewed lease on life, the Limbless stacked them up on the porch railing, charged up a throw, and let fly.

BOOM! Rayman's fist sent the cans flying everywhere!

He whooped, hollered, and pumped his fists in the air as he hopped around the back patio; his triumphant laughter gave way to tears of joy, relief, and overwhelming resolve. "It's gonna be okay! I can fight back! I can finally fix this!" he choked out between heaving sobs.

Thank you, Mariana!

[mercityart]

Here's a lil bit of background on some of my versions of the creepypasta/slenderverse characters!

Starting strong we have the Operator. It doesn't have one exact name, merely conforming and presenting itself to victims as they see fit. The Operator has also been called Slenderman, the tall man, faceless, the creator, Der Grossman, etc.

It is not of this plane of existence, in fact, it's unknown of it's true original origin. However, it's believed it's from "the ark". Noone truthfully fully knows what exactly the ark is, and very little is known about it. It is said that the Operators "proxies" have been in the ark before. This would likely explain the use of their masks and/or goggles.

The air on the ark is very much like that of being extremely high in altitude on our plane of existence. There is a large body of "water" at the very center of the ark, however... This isn't exactly water. The materials pulled from the water at the ark is hard to describe, it has the consistency of water at first but anything that is placed in it reacts similar to that of being stuck in tar. The substance also seems to almost be alive, reaching out small tendril like appendages and pulling it under. We can not identify what exactly it is made up of, the elements being entirely unknown to humans, however we can identify high levels of blood, mucus, and bone.

The Operator appears as though a extremely tall faceless humanoid at first however it's form changes frequently, seemingly unstable in our plane. It has tendrils that are all sorts of sizes and lengths. It is unknown how long these appendages can get though it seems that when removed they immediately take form of the "water" from the ark and a new one tales it's original place.

The Operators skin and "clothing" seem to be made up of the same appendages as the tendrils it produces giving it a bark like texture in appearance. However, these tendrils are simply hiding it's form from plain sight. The Operator does indeed have a face. In fact it has many.

It is unknown how to rid of this entity, and how to significantly hurt it for that matter, however it is known that when nearing the presence of a electronic device such as a radio or camera they will begin to malfunction and the Operator will avoid being around said objects for long.

We also are aware, thanks to Tim Wright, the Operator can't stand individuals being a certain distance near it, confrontation, and will immediately disappear upon physical contact with humans though the affects of inhuman creatures having contact is still unknown.

The Operator has chosen a peice of land to keep within our plane. Rosswood park in Tuscaloosa, Alabama. We do not know why it chose this area though it appears that it is not the only thing residing within it.

It is possible the Operator was drawn to this area due to a seemingly high level of energy surrounding the forest. It is fully capable of traveling wherever it desires it seems, though thankfully it seems to prefer staying within the forest.

For more information that is not stated please ask questions.

[championoftheoppressed]

Having a long-ish drive to do, I listened to a good chunk of the 1940s Superman radio serial. And my favorite thing about it is how absolutely unhinged this version of Clark must seem to people. He disappears out the window and reappears hours later halfway across the country. He gets stopped by the police and politely declines arrest before casually running away. He's on a malfunctioning plane and climbs out onto the wing with zero hesitation. Absolute mad lad.

It's also damn impressive how Bud Collyer can switch from Clark to Superman mid sentence with just his voice.

[xplrvibes]

yes, i am back. (boooo boooo tomato tomato) so this one is a bit more of pointing out two interesting things than it is a guess the non-paranormal being game. so in this video https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zzMGIPELYCo&t=2725s ["The Haunted Sanitarium that Changed Us Forever" - jic] at 45:25, when there's a laugh coming through the spirit box. all chills aside (this was the first time i heard a laugh coming directly from the equipment and not someone on the estes saying "i heard a laugh" so i was caught off guard), i do find it interesting that it sounds so similar to the laugh on snc's video they did with dakota & chelsea (the second time i've heard a laugh coming through). i watched this pf video first and then i found out snc and the siblings had done a collab and watched that one, so imagine my surprise hearing a creepy ass clown laugh coming through not once but twice in two different videos, but but i digress. and then, second thing, at 46:45 when there's an unidentified noise, then perhaps a malfunction?, then two screams (and those were actual screams, take note alex) then the spirit box dies. like that sequence of events just made me so curious as to like the frequencies or what might've been happening that our eyes couldn't see. but also was it really mimicking chelsea and tanner's voice like they were vehemently caliming it to be (47:48)? it seemed similar enough to her screams (but honestly screams are screams sooo) and it would make sense with the context - and the context makes it even more appealing because you see, they have been to that location before. they were scared out of the building the first time (their words not mine) and the spirits seemed to particularly remeber tanner and chelsea. the tour guide (now listen, i don't really much of what they say seriously bc they need to sell the place as as haunted as possible so the business keeps floating but! it'll make sense) said that she was talking to the spirits at the building and she said "do you know who's coming?" and they answered with both tanner's and chelsea's name. and then, hours later, dakota, alex and chelsea were doing a spirit box session on one place while tanner was alone at the basement doing his own investigation. so they asked "do you remeber any of us?" and the spirit box says something that seems like "yes.... i remember tanner" (at 31:09, btw). so that's it for the interesting takes (yes, i know i do sound like a tinfoil hat lunatic and yes, i know you have no idea why you were chosen to be the bearer of my ramblings but stay with me, please, i'm almost finished) and now comes my very simple question before i'm sold on that set of events: how easy (or not) is it to fake those kinds of evidences and/or temper with a spirit box? is that doable? can something [like a laugh or screams] be pre-recorded, for example? or you get what you get when it comes to the spirit box?

No tomatoes get thrown in the xplrvibes house!

Well, some do. Many do, actually. Yea, I throw lots of tomatoes, the fuck am I kidding.

But never at my friends!

Anyway, I digress. A lot. Often.

It's weird that they have ever caught a creepy laugh, cause I can't imagine what radio station is just playing like, horror movie or spooky Halloween sounds all the time? So what the hell frequency could that have come from (with the laugh on the snc video, I can almost see that coming from the Clown Motel itself, like frequency in the hotel somehow, but even then I'm like "...why?" lol)?

As far as faking evidence or tampering with a spirit box...the way I understand it, those boxes are scanning through any and all radio frequencies. So I'm wondering if they could also pick up on walkie talkies or cb's in the area? NOT sure, but if so, that would be one possible way of faking that...but with the way those things scan, you'd really have to work hard to make sure you get your guy with the walkie/cb to come through at the exact right time (or at all!) for that theory to work.

Now, those spirit box cellphone apps? Those are more than likely fake cause it's a programmed software being shilled out and marketed towards those who want to try ghost hunting, so that shit I put absolutely 0 stock in. And the traditional spirit boxes, the argument can be made that they are a great case study on perception and how your brain can trick you sometimes into hearing want you want to hear based on the things you already know about a situation you are in (kind of the uno reverse of fake psychics who use leading questions and body language to get people to unknowingly give them just enough info that they can then turn around and give you a "psychic reading" that had just enough detail in it to make you believe) - but that's part of why the Estes Method is so cool, cause the person listening to the spirit box has no frame of reference to the questions being asked in the moment (although I suppose with a lot of planning and perfect timing, that could be faked too).

But overall? I'd say the spirit boxes are probably the hardest thing to fake out of all the paranormal equipment out there...but that's just me.

[windmaedchen-oceanhorn]

Dinner for Two

After the recent loss of his family, Pierre Corbin sits alone at home, the dinner table set for two. He doesn't want to be disturbed but when he receives an unexpected visit from a certain young boy, he cannot bring himself to send him away.

Even though the table was set for two people, Pierre sat on his side alone, staring blankly over the cold and untouched food. He might have felt hungry earlier when he was cooking, but now it seemed as if there was no point to eating. He wondered why he had gone through the trouble to cook dinner again in the first place. It was the third day now and he should know better, knowing that she won’t come to join him.

It is a scary thing to love what you can lose to death. The family they always wanted – it was about to be reality, but unexpected difficulties turned this dream into a nightmare. He was thrown into this loss so harshly. While everyone and everything else kept turning with the world, he felt stuck and afraid of being left behind.

Pierre listened to his thoughts in the silence of his home. He was off duty this week to get some space. Other members of the Corbin family dealt with the funeral arrangements and for that he was very thankful. At the moment, he was glad he still knew how to dress properly. Or cook, even if he hardly ate.

Suddenly, the short sharp sound of something heavy hitting the wooden panels of the floor startled him. No mere second later, Pierre heard a faint “Oh no”, followed by some footsteps.

Surprised he turned his head towards the open door to the hallway. There shouldn’t be anyone else in the house, but since he hadn’t locked either door, anyone could enter.

Pierre braced himself against the unwanted attention and prepared to send whoever there was away as quickly as possible… but then he saw a very young man peeking into the room. He knew that face and never expected to see HIM here, of all people.

“Mesmeroth. What are you doing here, and so late?”, he asked surprised.

The boy tread in place for a moment, hesitating to approach. “Err… Mister Corbin, sir, I just came to give you this.”

Mesmeroth then quickly stepped across the room towards Pierre and placed a metal box on the table. It was an older radio model, one of Archimedes’s inventions that had found its way into all households across Arcadia.

Pierre carefully observed the radio and knowing the boy’s passion for malfunctioning robots, he expected it to start moving any second now. He wasn’t sure if he could deal with the boy’s reckless inventions right now.

Mesmeroth seemed to have noticed his suspicious stare and quickly reassured the knight. “It’s not going to do anything, because it’s not a ‘real’ robot but… it’s still my favourite… thing.” He gazed at the radio with a sad smile.

Pierre looked from radio to boy and back in confusion. Why on earth was that kid here? They knew each other to some extent, after all he had to deal with Mesmeroth’s rogue robots on occasion and he also had to drag the kid to school from time to time, as his father left the boy to his own devices most of the time. Yet, despite all of Pierre’s reprimanding and scolding, the boy was here now, standing at his dinner table, as if they were… friends.

“What is it then?”, asked Pierre carefully.

“A radio! But it’s a special one. It was broken and when I repaired it, I made it so that when you hold THIS button it can record a message and then, when you press THIS button, you can listen to it again.”

Mesmeroth became excited telling Pierre about his favourite object but when he was done he became his more timid self again.

“And … what shall I do with it?”, the knight inquired.

“Listen to it, when you’re all alone.”

Pierre moved to ask what’s on there but Mesmeroth continued to talk, gently holding the radio between his two hands.

“I know you cried, I can see it. I cried a lot, too. I missed her a lot, that’s why. Listening to this always made me feel a little better, though. I am a little too old now to still cry, I think, and … I don’t want you to be sad so that’s why I decided that you should have it.”

Pierre leaned heavily on his arm observing the boy as he realised that Mesmeroth, a kid 10 years of age, came to express his sincere condolences. He knew that the boy had lost his mother 3 years ago. Unfortunately, it was the talk of the village back then. The way the boy looked at the radio now, nearly tenderly and longingly told Pierre that he must have loved his mother very much. The fact that this neglected boy from the streets felt inclined to share a means of comfort with him, touched him deeply. A very unexpected gesture, Pierre was stunned that Mesmeroth cared about him.

He felt his throat clench and he swallowed a couple of times to reduce the tension. He didn’t know what to say.

Luck was on his side, as the change of subject came in form of an aggressive growling. Hastily Mesmeroth turned away to hide his hunger but it was too late.

Pierre raised his eye-brows and smiled gently. “Are you hungry?”

“Hmmm.” Mesmeroth didn’t seem to want to admit it. Again he moved about a bit.

“Have you not yet eaten at home?”

The boy’s gaze fell onto the food laid out on the table. “Err… well, there wasn’t anything left for me today”, he admitted embarrassed. Then he hastily continued. “Why haven’t you eaten yet? Don’t you like it?”, he asked.

Pierre’s question was stifled in his throat as he rushed to answer Mesmeroth’s questions. But his mind wondered, why was there no dinner left for the boy?

“Oh, I- haven’t felt like eating, I’m afraid.”

“And will you feel like eating it soon? Who will eat this if not?” With open, curious eyes Mesmeroth had turned back towards the knight.

“Maybe you would be interested in having a bite?” Pierre offered warmly as he gestured towards the chair on the other side.

“Oh yes, I do! I can tell you if it’s any good, too!”

“Yes, please do.”

Without another second lost, Mesmeroth took a seat and watched intently as Pierre took the serving spoon in his hand to give the boy a small serving.

“I’m afraid it’s cold already, but it should still taste just as good.”

Eagerly Mesmeroth put a full spoon into his mouth. He had not yet swallowed when he exclaimed “Shit, that’s really tasty!”

“No swear words at this table”, Pierre responded sternly. Mesmeroth quickly looked over and then, without stopping to munch simply replied “Okay, sorry, sir”.

“Why haven’t you eaten this, it’s so good!”, he continued.

“Is it really, eh? I guess I should try myself then.”

Pierre was still not exactly hungry but at least he wasn’t alone. He finally helped himself to a small portion and hesitantly took a spoonful himself. He had lost his thoughts, his feelings and his taste in the last couple of days. Yet, somehow in this strange boys presence, who was rather excited to have such a basic meal, taking in nourishment became actually bearable.

Until now Pierre hadn’t thought much of this peculiar young man. But now that Mesmeroth had… approached him on such personal level, he felt curious about him. Pierre pondered for a bit. Mesmeroth came from a poor family and his living conditions weren’t exactly the best. Unfortunately, the boy’s interest in magic and machines rubbed the villagers the wrong way and it caused minor annoyances at best but had also incited a tragic incident in which even the valuable life of a human was lost. Pierre was certain the boy didn’t act out of malice… but without guidance, he feared for the boys future. Why couldn’t his father care for him properly? Where there no friends Mesmeroth could connect and play with? Why do even children have to suffer already from the world’s trials and tribulations?

Pierre’s somewhat miserable thoughts were interrupted and uplifted by more of Mesmeroth’s fantastical praises for the food. Amidst this sorrowful time they managed to amuse Pierre and he felt glad that he had cooked after all. Mesmeroth had a big appetite and Pierre’s efforts were handsomely rewarded.

They were nearly done when Pierre decided to ask. “What do you mean, there was no food left for you today? How so?”

Mesmeroth looked up at first, then evaded Pierre’s gaze.

“I don’t really have dinners at home. Sometimes I get to have dad’s leftovers, though!”

Pierre was a little stunned by that answer, but couldn’t say he was actually surprised. It’s just not what he would have liked to hear.

“Your father is not cooking for you?”

Mesmeroth thought for a bit. “I think he did but… not anymore. I am not really allowed inside the house either. Not that I want to go there anyway, it smells.”

The boy proceeded to lick the final remnants of the dish from the cutlery. Pierre shook his head in disbelief. “Goodness Gracious. But you do get lunch at school, right?”

“Yeah. It’s not as awesome as THIS, though. Other kids often leave like half their meal so I wait till they’re gone and eat that, too! Then I am late for class but that’s okay, it’s mostly boring stuff anyway. Oh, and I do get snacks for sharing my homework!”

Pierre had never chatted to Mesmeroth so casually and he was very pleasantly surprised, despite the heavy topic, that the boy answered so frankly. “I am glad to hear that. It may not be an ideal situation but you sure know how to help yourself.”

“Hm, yeah, I suppose…” Mesmeroth sighed a little. “I’ll be fine and… I am sorry for… for making you work so hard.”

Pierre sighed as well and nodded in gratitude. “I know that you are. I know.”

Then, Mesmeroth picked up his plate and stood up. He questioningly stared at the plate and gazed over at the door to the kitchen. Pierre extended a hand and gestured him to place the plate back down.

“You don’t have to worry about that for today. I will clean it all”, responded Pierre warmly. The boy had enough to sort out and Pierre had to clean the rest anyway. Albeit he’d probably do it tomorrow.

“Oh, really? But what if I would like to have food again?”

Pierre understood the boy’s desire to eat again but what did that have to do with the dishes?

“How do you mean?”, he asked.

“I mean, what if come ever again and then, at that time you happen to have made food that you don’t feel like eating, then I would like to be allowed to eat it for you.”

Pierre looked at the boy in amused astonishment. “How nicely put. Well, let me reassure you, that if you ever came by again and I happen to have just made dinner then you are very certainly allowed to have a share.”

Mesmeroth grinned widely at him and put the plate back down. “Oh, okay. Thanks, Mr. Corbin.”

“Hmhm”. Pierre sighed and smiled at his guest, who now walked back around the table to look at the radio again. He even reached out to turn it around a little and brush over the corner with which it hit the floor earlier. Mesmeroth murmured something Pierre didn’t understand and just as he began to ask about it the young man turned to him abruptly.

“Be good, okay?”

“O-Of course, Knight’s honour!”, Pierre replied surprised, once again. Wasn’t that something he should have requested of Mesmeroth instead?

Mesmeroth showed his teeth in a large grin. “And you should eat your food, it’s super great! See you, Mr. Corbin!”

Then he sprang around and dashed towards the hallway. Pierre half-way rose from his seat as he shouted after the boy, but he was already out of sight.

“Be careful on your way home!”

“Ye-hes! Bye!”, came the answer from somewhere around the front door. And then, there was silence again.

What was going on in the boy’s head, thought Pierre. He was perplexed, but very pleasantly so. Children could be so demanding it distracts from anything else and they also manage to bring down any possible defence in seconds.

He had wanted to be alone but still, he was glad the boy had come. He had finally eaten and maybe, it dawned on him, he had allowed this boy in difficult circumstances to have a proper meal, also.

Pierre’s eyes now fixated on the radio. He was curious to find out what was recorded on there and he extended his arm to reach the button. His finger rested on there for a moment. He leaned forward and rested his chin on the other arm, then pressed the button down.

The radio first emitted a few cracks and noises of it being moved around. Two voices were audible, that of Mesmeroth and that of a woman. “Okay, I am holding it down, see? Now you can sing. Closer, right there…”

Mesmeroth gave instructions, presumably to his mother, who then sang a common but beautiful lullaby for her son. The recording ended with another short conversation between the two.

Pierre hid his face in the fabric of his sleeve and pressed the button again. He was listening to his own, lost dream: a mother singing a lullaby to her beloved child. His eyes teared up and his throat clenched. In his thoughts, his wife was walking up and down the bedroom, rocking their baby, singing this lullaby. Then the same kid came climbing into their bed at night and again, his wife sang a lullaby. More and more scenarios flooded his mind and Pierre cried for all the lost moments he had hoped to experience in the future.

When the worst was over, and his body had calmed down a bit, Pierre allowed Mesmeroth to enter his mind again. The radio was a precious item to the boy. For an instance Pierre wanted to return it but then he reminded himself of something he had learned becoming a knight: Presents are not to be made OR accepted lightly. The boy didn’t bring this important keepsake lightly. And so, Pierre would honour the gift and keep it.

In fact, there was something else he wanted to do. Tomorrow evening, he would cook again, and even though he was alone, he would cook for two. Yes, his wife wasn’t there anymore to dine with him but… a certain troubled boy might just be hungry enough.

THE END.

(or is it a beginning?)

[purplesurveys]

1576

Have you ever felt like you were dreaming even though you were awake? Uhhhhhhhhh I don’t think so.

When was the last time something just seemed too good to be true? I guess Thursday? We started our subscription on Disney+ then and I couldn’t believe how good the selection is. I literally ended up being 15 minutes late for work because I wanted to test just how complete it is hahaha and I was very surprised that every title I’d search for actually came up.

Do you believe eyes are like windows to the soul? Erm, no.

Has someone ever whistled at you while you were walking? I’ve been whistled at, smirked at, lunged at, whooped at, and honked at, all by men. 

Are you guilty of texting while driving? I used to do it a lot back in college lol but the pandemic not allowing me to drive regularly for two years really did a 180 on my driving habits. I hardly overtake, get consumed by road rage, or text while driving anymore; and the only time I touch my phone is if I have to check Waze.

Have you ever caused a lot of noise in a library? No, that is one of my biggest pet peeves so I’d never do it myself.

Do you complain a lot? I wouldn’t say so; I’m quite the passive type.

Have you ever been to a music festival? No. I’m never familiar with the artists who come play at our local ones, anyway. What was the last thing that completely took your breath away? This is gonna be BTS-related yet again lol but Hobi’s latest Instagram post where he took a mirror shot with a film camera. Shit made me stop work to squeal for the next 10 minutes.

Are you a competitive person? To a fault.

Have you ever been in a relay race? Only in party games lol.

What cereal tastes so good that you always eat more than 1 bowl? I don’t like cereal. It gets soggy and in the first place I can’t even take large amounts of milk without my stomach malfunctioning.

If your life was a movie, what would it be rated? Idk let’s go with an R? I’ve done things here and there.

Are you more of a talker or a listener? Listener. But sometimes it depends on the person too; I could be more of a talker around other crowds.

Have you ever called in at a radio station & dedicated a song to someone? Not a radio station but like in local school fairs where you can send in song requests, yeah.

Would you ever go to a protest or be involved in a protest? Yes, especially if it’s for a cause I’m very passionate about. I joined a handful of protests, too, back in college.

Have you ever tried to walk on a foot that fell asleep & then tripped? Omg yes, that is the worst. One time I landed straight on my knee in the harshest way possible and the poor spot bruised for a week.

When playing rock, paper, scissors which do you usually pick? Rock.

Have you ever tried to write a book? Not a book lol but one-shots...let’s not talk about those...

Don’t you hate it when people blow smoke in your face? I’ve never been blown smoke on on purpose.

Have you ever been hit by a chunk of hail? No; I’ve never even experienced hail. Do one word text messages annoy you? Feel like I’m well past the age to still be annoyed by things like this.

Do you have high standards? This is a very vague question because yeah, I can have high standards for certain things - especially if I’ve paid a generous sum for them. But like when it comes to food for example I can be perfectly content eating at a carinderia.

Have you ever had something to say but you couldn’t get the words out? Pretty sure this is something we all sometimes have to go through.

Have you ever changed your clothes while in a vehicle? Yeah. The worst and most embarrassing part is I was also the driver. I can tell you with all the confidence in the world that that is by far the stupidest thing I’ve ever done. Fucking changing while driving, can you believe it?

Did you ever have your brothers or sisters clothing handed down to you? I’m the eldest sibling so if anything it was my clothes which were handed down to my sister.

Do you have the same routine day by day? It is, but I’m quite satisfied with the setup. My brain can’t process change as quickly as other people.

Would you ever go on a walk to raise money for cancer research? Absolutely.

If you were treated unfairly at work, would you go on strike? I would look for other options.

If God were standing in front of you, what would you say or do? Look around to see if there are any cameras because in no universe is that going to happen ever.

Would you ever try any extreme sports? No.

Do you know how to snap your fingers? With my right hand, yeah. My left fingers can barely produce a snap. Do you plan your outfits for the next day or just randomly choose? I normally plan them the night before so I can just grab my clothes and go (and spend more time in bed in the mornings, lol). < Very accurate also to me haha.

Are you a bossy person? I’m not bossy, but my temper can flare up if things aren’t meeting my expectations. 

Do you control your attitude or does it control you? I’ve been trying to control it because I do want to make an effort to be less hot-headed.

Is it true that if you don’t love yourself, you can’t love another? There is some truth to that, yes. Would you ever give blood? What blood type are you? I wish there was a less terrifying way to donate lol, but with the way it’s being practiced right now I don’t think I could ever give blood.

Is there anything that you believe should be banned for any reason? Donald Trump.

Do you share a bed with anyone? No.

Do you ever try making your dream up before falling asleep? No.

Do you get angry easily? Can.

[mehidktbh]

UNEXPECTED REUNION

!! NOT MINE, EVERYTHING WAS WRITTEN BY @queensnowdon !!

18+

Themes: Fluff, Slight-Angst, Gore, Smut

Warnings: Cursing, bullying, mentions of deaths, gore, mention of sex, minor injuries and violence

My friends and I drove down to Texas for a road trip. The hot temperature of Texas made me remove my cardigan, showing my friends my shoulders. They teased me about this but I didn’t give a damn about it and didn’t dare to reply to their nonsense talks. I mean, it’s not the first time they saw someone’s shoulders so why are they acting dumb? As the van continued passing places from one to another, I can’t help but remember my childhood friend whom I love the most. I used to live here with my older sister as a child. 

I had a friend who has a deformed face and became my lover. He was always bullied because of how he looked. I never had the heart to do the same thing those heartless children did. The first time I approach him, he couldn’t make eye contact with me, feeling embarrassed but I assured him that I am different from those kids. I’d always protect and defend him against his bullies. They even tease me too for being friends with their so-called monster. I promised him that I will always protect him. His family, especially his mother, welcomes me wholeheartedly inside their house. Until we both reached our teenage years. I guess it was a young love, being in a relationship.  

It was New Year's Eve. I find the best dress I could find. I saw a baby blue off-shoulder dress. It was knee-length and it was from my mother who passed away when I was 5. That night, he confessed his feelings toward me. He was nervous, I can see that in his eyes. But it changed the moment I told him that I love him too. He gave me a simple ring with a small diamond on it and slipped it onto my ring finger. And the most beautiful part was that we had our first kiss just right exactly the fireworks display started. We chuckled when we pulled away and our relationship as lovers started that night. Every day, I’ll be visiting him at their house. Every night, we’d always lie down on the grass field, admiring the stars or even counting them until we fell asleep holding hands, fingers intertwined with each other. We’d dance to the music playing on the radio and would laugh when we danced a wrong step. We were only 15 but acted like a married couple. 

Until one afternoon, while walking down the road to his house, a group of boys made fun of us. I did my best to protect him but it turned out a little unexpected. One of them pulled out a knife and I ended up being slashed just to protect him that’s why I have a scar on my collarbone. I saw how furious he was that time that he beat them all with his big body. My sister find out about what happened and decided to take me away by moving out of Texas. I begged her but she didn’t care about that anymore. She even blame him for what happened to me. The night before we left Texas, I headed to their house and just hugged him, crying on his shoulder. 

“Dear, listen to me. No matter what happens or no matter how long will I be gone away, I will come back to you. I promise you that. We will get married in the future, right? Please, trust me. I love you, Tommy…” 

That was the last time I hugged him. I’d be lying if I say that I don’t love him anymore. Now that I am completely unemployed while my sister completely let go of me and is currently with her boyfriend abroad. 

I sighed and swallowed back the tears that are about slip out of my eyes. And then, the van suddenly malfunctioned until we stopped completely in the middle of nowhere, under the hot summer sky. Everyone groaned in frustration and the driver, Francis, got down and checked the battery. He grunts in frustration and the others started to get down. 

“Seems like the van can’t go for now.” Francis’s words made everyone whine. 

“What the hell?! What are we going to do now?!!” Jennifer whined and her boyfriend, Luke grunted. 

Marie, James, and Claire were also disappointed about the incident. Francis took out his tools and start fixing the van. The others decided to go back inside the van, can’t bear the hot temperature of summer while I grabbed a blanket and cover Francis from the heat. 

“I don’t think I can fix this by myself. Can you go look down the road to see if there’s anyone who could help us?”

“Yeah, sure.” I peaked out to the road and found a car heading our way. 

“Guys, we’re lucky! There’s a car going here.” When I said that, Francis whipped his head around while the others inside the van peeked out and saw that there was a car going towards us. 

The car went closer and closer before stopping a meter away from our vehicle. It’s a sheriff's car. Once the man got down, I had a strange feeling about this man. He looks familiar with me but I shrugged it off as my friends and I needed help to have our van fixed. I saw that his name was Hoyt with his tag attached to his uniform. 

“What are you kids doing here?”

“Good afternoon, sir. We’d like to ask for some help to have our van fixed.” The older man headed to the van and checked it. After a few seconds, he sighed and turned around to face us. 

“Well, I guess it would take days to fix your van. If you like, you can stay at my house. It’s not so far away from here.” 

Everyone agreed. The sheriff gave us a ride with the van being pulled by his car. I can’t help but be curious about who this man is. I felt I’d met him before but can’t remember where or when. About 20 minutes later, we arrived at the house he was talking about. My eyes widened at the realization that it was my first love’s house. I can’t believe it and I can’t help but be excited to meet Thomas again. It’s been 14 years since I left this place but now I am back. I saw an old man in a wheelchair because he has no legs anymore and I knew it was Uncle Monty. I felt bad and curious at the same time about what happened to his legs. A dog was sitting beside him and barked, seeing unfamiliar visitors. 

My friends looked around the old house and an old woman which I recognized as Aunt Luda May who cleaned my wound that afternoon and stood as my mother rather than my sister who never cared for me ever since our mother died. What happened after taking me away from Texas was that she neglected me that’s why I learned how to stand on my own feet. 

“Oh, Charlie, who are they?” The older woman asked and the sheriff replied in a low tone. 

Well, they let us inside their house. Everything was still the same. I wonder where is Thomas right now. I want to ask about him but I think this is not the right time. They served us a delicious meal for lunch. After lunch, I decided to help Aunt Luda May to wash the dishes. I don’t think she remembers me though. We would share a small conversation but after washing the used plates, glasses, and utensils, she told me that I may go and enjoy the rest of the day. 

 I decided to go outside the house and the dog I saw earlier approached me with a ball in his mouth. He put it down on the ground and sit down while wagging its tail. I stiffed a laugh and grabbed the ball and threw. The dog ran, following the ball I threw and he will be back with it in his mouth. It’s an Anatolian Shepherd dog which suits for protecting the property. We’d run around the field, having fun together. The dog was obedient and I never had a hard time teaching him new tricks. 

But I didn’t know while I was having fun with the dog, my friends are now being murdered with a chainsaw. 

The sun has set beyond the horizon and the sky became dark and filled with twinkling stars. The night wasn’t peaceful. Claire, Marie, James, and Francis were dead. Francis’ death shook me to the bones seeing his upper body being torn from his lower half. Luke died eventually by trying to protect me and Jennifer. My dress was now spoiled with mud and a few splashes of blood. I pulled her away from that area and eventually blamed me for what happened to her boyfriend. 

“If only you didn’t ask that fucking old man for help, then none of these would happen! You killer them, Y/n! They died because of you!”

“Jennifer, I didn’t mean any of these! All we have to do is to find a way of how are we going to escape this place!”

A child with dirty clothes appeared. Jennifer approached the child and shook the child’s body so the boy got scared. 

“Hey, you! Do you know any way to get out of here?!” Jennifer asked him as kept shaking him and the child got scared. 

“Jennifer, stop! You’re hurting the child!” I hissed at Jennifer and pulled the child away from her grasp. 

“That child probably knows anything of how will we get out of this place!” 

But then, my eyes widened to see the murderer walking quietly behind Jennifer. I started to back away with the child. Jennifer kept ranting, without knowing that the man who killed our friends was right behind her. The moment she noticed our expression, she turned around and screamed before being cut in half with the chainsaw. I screamed in horror and ran away with the child as fast as I could. When I found a spot, the child tried to move away but the way he signed at me, he was telling me that he will distract the guy. I told him not to but forced me to let go of him and ran away. 

I was so scared to death now that I am the only one alive. I sneaked from one place to another place inside the house until I heard people talking. 

“You must find the other one, Tommy! That bitch can’t escape of else–” An old man’s voice said which I recognized as Sheriff Hoyt. 

“Come on, Charlie. Don’t speak to my son like that!” A woman’s voice said which belongs to Aunt Luda. 

“Listen to me, Thomas Hewitt! You must find and kill that girl before the sunrise!”

My eyes widened when I heard that name, the name of my old lover. I couldn’t believe what I am hearing right now. I can’t believe that the boy I promised to protect and marry someday murdered my friends. I felt nothing but guilt and pain in my heart. Did he become like this because I left him? What happened to him to be this way? He was so different from the Tommy I shared my first kiss with. He’s not the boy I protected 14 years ago. Did he become like this because of me? Despite being guilty, I do still love him. I just can’t understand why did he come to this point? 

Suddenly, I made a wrong move making a sound that probably caught the family’s attention. I get out of the place I am hiding, not caring if they see me. All I did was run through the front door. Not so long, I heard a running chainsaw. I turned my head and saw Tommy was after me. And because of the turn of my head, I tripped with a random branch. My ankle got sprained and I couldn’t run that fast. I turned around and sobbed, watching Tommy walking toward me with eyes full of rage. I continued crawling backward even though within a second, this man could tear me into pieces. My heart was hammering against my chest, terrified of what could happen next. Tommy raised the chainsaw above his head, ready to kill. I tightly closed my eyes and ears with my hands. 

“TOMMY!!!!!!” I screamed, terrified yet preparing for my death but I felt no pain. I opened my eyes and looked at him, putting down his weapon. He’s not looking at me in the eyes. I followed his gaze and he was looking at my scar on the collarbone. 

 He turned off his chainsaw and put it down on the ground. I covered my face with my hands and cried harder. He kneel in front of me and he touched my hands, removing them from my face. He looked down at my hand and rubbed the diamond ring on my ring finger with his thumb before looking into my eyes. 

“Tommy, it’s me, Y/n.” I sobbed. Tommy’s eyes are now filled with tears. He cupped my cheek with his other hand while the other one remained to hold my hand. 

“Y/n…” He whispered my name but it was loud enough for me to hear. I nodded my head and hugged him tightly. 

“I’m back, Tommy. I will never leave you again.” 

When we broke the hug, he touched my ankle. I yelped so he helped me up and brought me to his broad shoulder before going back to the house. Soon, when we arrived there, Tommy put me down on the couch gently. Hoyt was praising Tommy for doing a good job but he looked at his mother. They headed to the kitchen and seemed like Tommy explained everything. I heard Aunt Luda gasp and rushed back to the living room and brushed off my hair from my shoulder so that they can see my scar more. 

“Oh, dear! It’s you, Y/n!” The older woman squealed and then hugged me. 

“No wonder why you looked familiar with me earlier when you helped me wash the dishes. Were you hurt?”

“I think I sprained my ankle.” Aunt Luda May kneeled and touched it gently.

“It’s only a minor sprain. Don’t worry, you’ll be fine. Wait here, I’ll go bring the first aid kit.” She stood up and walked to the kitchen again and came back with an ice pack and a small first aid kit. After doing the job, she wrapped it with a compression wrap. 

“Thank you, Aunt Luda.” 

Then, she left with Hoyt and Uncle Monty, leaving me with Tommy in the living room. None of us spoke, not knowing what to say. We didn’t expect that we’ll meet again in this kind of situation. He was wearing a mask, made of human skin. 

“How have you been without me, Tommy?”

I didn’t receive any response from him. With that, tears start falling down my eyes again. What a very unexpected reunion… 

“Did you become like this because of me? Was this all because of me, Tommy?”

Without saying anything, he left me there. It hurts me so much that he might be angry with me for leaving him. I silently cried there because he just turned his back on me and leave me there. After a few seconds, he came back with a wooden cane. He bent down and wiped my tears. He was telling me to get up and use the cane for support. I stood up while holding on to the cane and guiding me to go outside. 

The night sky was filled with millions of sparkling stars. He went back to the porch to get two chairs for us to sit. We both admired the stars just like what we do back then. I noticed that Thomas’ hands are now clean when it was bloody earlier. With that, I didn’t hesitate to hold his hand and intertwined my fingers with his. He returned the favor by rubbing his thumb against my skin. 

“I see that you are not talkative as you are than before. When I left, do they still make fun of you?” I asked and he nodded. “I’m sorry, Thomas. Sorry, for not being there when you needed me the most. Even though I just witnessed a horrible thing you did, I can’t stop myself but love you more.” When I said that, Tommy and I looked at each other but I later looked away, can’t bear my tears anymore, remembering how awful my life was inside 14 years. 

“My sister neglected me when she took me away. I’ve suffered there for 14 years. I didn’t even make it to college because I don’t enough money for my needs. So, I decided to work as a maid in a wealthy family. I worked there but I couldn’t find a way out to go back here. That’s why I am glad to be here again with you. And if I have to choose between staying here with you or going back there to the city, I’d rather stay here and spend the rest of my life with you. I’d rather stay here and count those stars above until I fell asleep, knowing that I’ll wake up next to you.”

Then, I rest my head on his shoulder. Our eyes met again. This time, I leaned in to kiss his lips. Thomas kissed me back, even making it more passionate as his tongue slipped past inside my mouth. We only pulled away for air yet I pecked his lips again.

“I love you, Thomas.”

“I love you too.” He said in his deep voice. Our eyes met again but this time, I leaned in to kiss his lips. He returned the favour but making in deep. I’ve never had this feeling for 14 years even though several guys asked me out. Because of that, I knew that I belonged to him. 

After two weeks, I completely recovered from the sprain. I’d always help Aunt Luda May with the household chores such as cleaning, doing the laundry, and others. I never complained about their unique appetite. Sometimes, when Thomas can’t make it to join us for lunch or dinner, I’d wait for him to come up from the basement or I’ll leave some food for him to eat. Thomas and I became closer than we’ve been before. Sometimes, I’ll help him lure victims. My life with them is fine as I have Thomas, my boyfriend, and Aunt Luda May. Uncle Monty and I aren’t that close to each other but whenever we have a conversation, I always make sure that we are sharing some touches of laughter. And sometimes, when Hoyt’s anger issues strike at Thomas, I won’t hesitate to defend him even if Aunt Luda May was there. 

“Without Thomas, you won’t have anything to eat! You’ve done nothing but blame all your anger on Thomas! If you don’t like his work, then do it yourself! Chase those people who are too unfortunate to step their feet on this property!”

“Oh, shut it, woman! Why are you defending this beast, huh?!”

“See? You’re just proving to us that you’re an ungrateful bastard! Thomas is a beast if that’s how you or those people describe him, but you can’t change the fact that you’re eating delicious meals every day because of Thomas's work.” 

And after one year, we got married. We only had a simple celebration with the other members of the family but we are joyful that we are now a man and wife. We even spent our first night as newlyweds in a very romantic way. Thomas isn’t as innocent as I thought. Hoyt and Uncle Monty probably talk about sex in front of Tommy so I am sure he knows how it's done by the way he took my virginity. It’s our first night, so why don’t we just take it nice and soft before getting to the point where everyone in the house can hear who am I belongs to. It was kinda painful because of his big, thick, and girthy length but we did not call it just sex, but making love. We have talked about having children but I decided to not bear them as I was still young and want to be free from responsibility while being married. Thomas sincerely respects that. We are ready for children but for now, we want to experience the days we wanted to do back then. 

Thomas and I may not be the perfect couple as the family hides something very horrible. But at least we are happy. He loves me, and I love him. Isn’t it the most important thing about marriage? People may describe him as a beast, monster, or whatever but in my eyes, Thomas is a man with a soft heart inside a big man’s body with masculine urges to chase people with a chainsaw.

[saintrocklee]

✧ Happy ✧

 ✮ Kisame x you ✮

18+; no big warnings on this one. this is a fluffy AU, aka Kisame being cute, reader being cute; we’ve got a little bit of spice but nothing detailed or crazy - still 18+ though, mdni. Kakuzu makes an appearance for like five seconds, so shout out to daddy K. there’s mentions of alcohol, breaking & entering, and cursing. also i didn’t heavily edit this i was just vibing. okiii enjoy <3

Looking at you while you scooped another bite of ice cream into your mouth, Kisame rested his chin on his hand and smiled softly. You caught his eye and grinned before holding your spoon out to him.

“Want some?”

He shook his head and contented himself to watch you finish off the dessert. It was a newer place - you had dragged him here as soon as he got off work, complaining that you never got to see him anymore. A bold faced lie - Kisame had cut back hours ever since you both picked a date for the wedding, but he couldn’t say no to those sad fucking eyes and those damned shorts you were wearing.

So now he’s here, at some fine eatery place, watching you eat ice cream, and honestly - he’s happy. The happiest he’s ever been, and sure Hidan can call him pussy whipped all he wants, but it didn’t matter. Nothing compared to this. To you.

Kisame’s eyes flicked to the window behind you to watch a woman stumble past the restaurant, chuckling at the poor dude who followed after - her purse and heels in his hands. You’d jerked your head around to see what was happening before turning toward him, grinning around the spoon in your mouth.

“Do you remember when we first met?”

Kisame snorted and pushed off the table to lean back in his chair. Of course he fucking remembered, you had literally burst into his life like some kind of malfunctioned wrecking ball.

It had been late on a Saturday night. You’d drunkenly burst into his and Kakuzu’s old apartment, singing some obnoxious pop song he’s heard on the radio a thousand times. You had thought it was your friend’s place and it was one of the few times Kisame had forgotten to lock the door. He remembers your outfit vividly  - you had been wearing one of the trashiest little club dresses he’d ever seen, heels dangling on your wrist, hair wild and messy. Your lipstick had been smeared and he remembers staring at your mouth a beat longer than socially appropriate.

Not that he was too concerned about being appropriate - you were the one breaking and entering.

He remembers the glittering jewelry on your ankle and your bare feet with tiny manicured nails. He remembers the way your dress clung to your hips and thighs. He remembers the fact that you seemed to be covered in body glitter and he remembers a lot of it sprinkling onto his freshly cleaned carpet, much to Kakuzu’s displeasure.

Kisame had thoroughly checked you out in the span of seconds - he was a guy with hormones and you were ... well. Attractive. And standing in his apartment. With barely any clothes on. Shedding glitter.

You had gaped at him in shock before choking your way through an apology, slurring your words in a way he privately described as adorable.

“Oh my god, I am so sorry - you’re not who - wow, you live here? That’s ... great, this apartment is great, you look gre - nope. Not what I wanted to - okay! Um! Sorry, bye!”

He’d been in a pair of low hanging sweats, casually getting ready for bed and didn’t miss the way your eyes ... traveled ... before clicking his door shut behind you.

He’d stood there in silence for a full minute before grinning, feeling very full of himself.

A couple of weeks went by before he sees you again, this time in the parking lot. After you’d broken in, something Kakuzu would not let him live down, Kisame had wanted to run back into you.

It had been late into the evening and he’d had spent way to much time at the office. He’d been in a shit mood, ready to order some cheap Chinese food and pig out before passing the fuck out when he got distracted by yelling.

Loud, girlish yelling.

Kisame exited his car to see you screaming profanities that would make Hidan proud at what looked to be a very sorry looking man. He’d had his hands up in an attempt to surrender but you and your vulgar threats weren’t having any of it. Kisame could hear him talking which seemed to set you off more, and suddenly those same heels were in your grip, swinging at him with everything you had.

“Get out of here you sorry piece of shit - I’ll kill you! You ever come near her again and I’ll rip your limp little dick off - fucking asshole!”

The piece of shit in question scrambled away from you and your heels and ran to his car, yelling over his shoulder about calling the police on your crazy ass. Kisame vividly remembers you throwing your head back and laughing, yelling at him to do it asshole and see what happens.

In that moment, Kisame was in complete awe. He’d seen some deranged shit in his day, his friends seemed to attract crazy like it was their fucking jobs, but he’d never seen anyone thoroughly beat someone with heels. He was pretty sure the dude left bleeding.

It was then you noticed him and once again, you were frozen in place at being caught in yet another bad moment. Kisame had idly wondered if this is how you always were, or if it was just shitty luck he’d caught you in ... strange situations like this twice.

You’d both stared at each other for a beat before you cleared your throat and looked around awkwardly, face twisting into grimace.

“Did you - um. Did you ... see that?”

Kisame remembers looking back at the dude’s car that was peeling out of the parking lot at a speed that wasn’t legal and then back to you, amused.

“Didn’t see a thing.”

He’d walked with you into the building and you both entered the elevator in what should have been awkward silence but ... wasn’t. The air between you two was quiet and comfortable, as if you both had known each other for years. Kisame had turned his head to fully look at you - the bikers shorts and worn sweatshirt you were wearing were surprisingly alluring. It was then he noticed you were barefoot again - your toes painted the most obnoxious color of gold he’d ever seen - and he couldn’t help but chuckle. You’d glanced at him, heels in hand, and started laughing too.

Your friend’s apartment was two doors down from his and you’d smiled and waved at him before entering, leaving him alone in the hallway - impressed and nursing the start of a crush.

It’d be another couple of weeks before he saw you again.

But when he did, it was at the coffee shop next door to the apartment building, and you were being pestered by a dude that he would classify as a pussy. You’d been sitting in a booth, legs crossed and bouncing in agitation - those damn heels strapped to your feet. Your polish wasn’t gold anymore, but a pale pink, and your face was twisted with annoyance.

“If I have to tell you to go away again, I am going to shove my heels so far up your -”

Kisame had interrupted, giving the poor kid who couldn’t take a hint one of his more heinous smiles, and placed a hand on the booth behind you right behind your head.

“Hey babe, ready to go?”

The look you gave him would be seared into his brain for eternity. Your mouth had parted in surprise, eyes bright with confusion and recognition, before absolute delight took over. It had his mouth running dry, how happy you seemed to be to see him. Your lips, shiny with gloss, tilted into the biggest smile he’d ever seen on a person and you turned to the guy, cocking your head slightly.

“Mmm, I don’t know. You might need to ask my other boyfriend over here, he’s been making it difficult for me to leave.”

The jackass in question put his hands up in surrender and started to stutter his way through an apology - his beady little eyes flicking from Kisame to you. You’d placed your elbow on the table and rested your chin in your hand, cocky little grin firmly in place. Kisame snorted.

“Good thing I got here when I did, kid. Those heels of hers have done terrible things to guys like you.”

You’d gone so far as to wink at the man before he scampered off and then you turned towards Kisame - that same look of sheer delight on your face. Something warm started to spread through his chest, and he could feel the back of his neck start to heat up. You opened your mouth but turned your head when you saw your friend walk in, waving excitedly. Kisame took a step back to let you exit the booth and as you walked by him, you’d squeezed his forearm.

“Thanks, stranger. I owe you one.”

With that, you’d gone with your friend and Kisame stood there for a moment, letting the heat on his neck cool, before getting in line to order his and Kakuzu’s coffee.

After the coffee shop incident, you seemed to pop up everywhere. Hallway, parking lot, lobby. Kisame wondered if you actually lived in his building or if you just visited a lot. You’d always smile at him, pretty and glowing and so damn happy, and it never failed to make his chest stutter. Words were scarcely exchanged though, and Kisame had decided enough was enough.

He was going to take you to dinner.

Pretty barefoot girl, constantly showing up in his life, smiling at him like you’ve known him forever - he’d take you out to dinner and find out exactly what flavor of lip gloss you used.

Also, your name.

Hopefully in that order.

He’d run into you in the elevator a few days later, drunk and hysterically giggling with your friend. It wouldn’t have been weird, but it was three in the afternoon. On a Tuesday.

You both were getting off when him and Kakuzu were getting on, and you had thrown your hands up when you saw him, heels clacking in the air.

“Yo, it’s my stranger! Hey man!”

Kakuzu had blinked in surprise at how loud you were and Kisame choked back a laugh before stepping out of the way so you and your friend could exit, grinning at the disheveled sight of you. You’d both stumbled out, and he felt that warmth in his chest again when you turned to face him, eyes glazed over from the alcohol.

“Hey! I still owe you one!”

Kakuzu grumbled something under his breath and stepped into the elevator, holding the doors so they’d stay open. Kisame glanced at him before looking at you, eyes making a slow journey down your chest to your thighs - all the way down to your bare feet. Your nails were red and the light from the hallway caught a tiny, silver toe ring. He’d brought his gaze back up to your face and felt heat start to lazily swirl through him at the look you were giving him.

“I’ll collect later.”

Your mouth parted and twisted into a wicked grin, lip gloss glittering, while your friend gasped and started laughing behind you. Kisame stepped onto the elevator and Kakuzu punched the ground level button before crossing his arms. The doors clicked shut and his roommate spoke.

“If you’re going to fuck her, do it when I’m not home.”

Two days later Kisame caught you doing laundry in the communal laundry room. His and Kakuzu’s washing machine was broken and so he was forced to use the communal washers - something he rarely did. He’d found you loading one of the dryers, wearing those damn biker shorts again. You’d stood when you heard him and smiled, eyes shining in surprise, before closing the dryer door.

“Hey stranger.”

Kisame had cocked his head at you and dropped his laundry basket next to an empty washer.

“You live here, girlie?”

You’d laughed and shook your head. His heart, stupid thing, actually fluttered in his chest at the sound of it - and the skin on his neck started to heat up.

“No, but my best friend does. You gonna snitch on me?”

Kisame had snorted and started loading the washer. You two were alone, neither of you in any kind of rush, and he decided he was going to make good on his promise to himself.

“Nah - but that would mean I’ve done you two favors.”

“Oh wow, so generous. So, big guy, how do I repay back this growing debt I owe you?

Kisame had smiled at you then, leaning back against the washer as it started to fill with water. He didn’t miss the way you watched as he crossed his arms over his chest, before flicking your eyes up to meet his.

“Let me take you to dinner.”

You’d blinked in surprise and turned your head to the side, fighting your own smile. Kisame took that time to trail his eyes down, slowly memorizing the way your thighs looked in your shorts and immediately zeroing on your ankle bracelet and pale purple polish. He’d brought his head up in time to catch you turning back to look at him, lips curled in that cocky little grin from the coffee shop.

“Alright.”

And so it went.

One date turned into three and soon Kisame found himself holding you up by your legs against his door, tongue and lips and teeth working against yours fervently. Your tiny little dress had ridden all the way up, leaving your thighs bare for him to touch and squeeze. Your hair had come completely undone, your makeup was smeared, and the noises coming from your throat had his cock jumping in his pants. He could feel your heels scrapping against his back and it shot thrills up his spine - he’d wanted you like this for awhile now - panting and whimpering with those heels of yours digging into his back.

He’d almost had you against the door that night - the alcohol from the club you’d taken him to was making his brain hazy - but you had arched against him and snarled the word bed into his ear while trying and failing to unbutton his shirt.

It had been rough and quick, the way he fucked you. You’d been grinding on him for hours at the club, teasing him, laughing, and the shots you’d talked him into had him only thinking with his dick. You’d both passed out soon after, clothes half on - shoes, phones, wallets, and jewelry all thrown across his room.

When Kisame woke the next day he had a mild ache behind his eyes and the taste of liquor on his tongue. It took him a moment to remember what happened. It took him another moment to realize you were still in his bed, passed out on top of the comforter, drooling all over his favorite pillow. Your leg was hooked around his and your hand was on his stomach, twitching as you slept. He’d watched you for a moment, taking in the smeared lipstick and eyeliner that someone still looked good on you, before trying to locate his phone without moving too much.

Once he’d found it, Kisame zoned out - checking his work email and mindlessly scrolling - glad he at least had some sense to put it within reach last night. It wasn’t long before you started to stir, body moving slowly against him. You woke up with a groan and buried your face into his pillow, no doubt getting makeup and glitter all over it. When you’d peeked up at him you both looked at each other in silence before you started giggling.

It was then Kisame realized he could probably wake up like this for the rest of his life.

The next time Kisame fucked you was later that same day. Kakuzu had been out on a business trip, so you’d stayed for breakfast. After showering and changing into some clothes Kisame had given you, you’d eaten eggs and toast in his kitchen and the two of you talked. And talked. And talked.

Eventually, talking turned to teasing which turned to flirting and soon Kisame had you sitting on the counter, lips on your neck, hands squeezing your thighs. You’d been impatient, whining and clawing at him, but Kisame was having none of it. He’d taken your wrists and pinned them to the counter next to your hips, holding you in place, mouth on your ear.

“You need to settle down and let me take care of you, sweetheart.”

You’d froze at his words, mouth running dry, and soon his head was between your thighs while his fingers worked absolute ecstasy into you. Kisame remembers making you come twice, right there on the countertop, before you were babbling and begging for him. He’d carried you back to the bedroom then, and spent another hour worshiping you, before collapsing on top of you, spent and sated.

After that, the two of you were inseparable. You’d constantly texted him - sexy little messages he’d read during meetings, dumb memes and corny pick up lines throughout the day, random thoughts and tidbits about your day - and he’d honestly felt like a teenager. He’d call you anytime he was in the car and you’d both would talk endlessly about nothing. Weekly date nights turned into daily meetups. Coffee, dinner, a short walk - anything to spend time together.

You’d introduced him to your best friend and he’d introduced you a reluctant Kakuzu, who didn’t complain about you at all after you’d left - something Kisame considered a win. After that, you’d introduced him to the rest of your friends, your coworkers, and he’d even talked to your mom once on speakerphone.

Kisame was more ... hesitant about you meeting the rest of his friends - but as soon as Hidan heard about you beating some sad sack of shit with your heels he deemed you worthy of Kisame’s attention. Itachi had given him a nod of approval and Konan even hugged you when you’d said your farewells - which meant you had officially been accepted into the group.

It wasn’t long before you’d slipped and called Kisame your boyfriend - which make his brain short circuit. You’d looked ready to take it back before he had pulled you into his lap, suddenly frantic for you. Neither of you had initiated the talk, but somehow this was better. Boyfriend, girlfriend - the labels didn’t matter too much to him but knowing you’d wanted a relationship - that you wanted something serious - had him light headed and spinning. Soon you were between his legs, mouth wrapped around his cock, and Kisame came with the words love you just on the tip of his tongue. He’d choked them back and managed to keep it to himself for another month, before he couldn’t take it anymore and whispered them against your forehead one night right outside of the restaurant you two had just left.

He remembers the way you looked up at him, that same look of shock on your face from the coffee shop all those months ago, before you were kissing him. Kissing and kissing and pulling his lips between your teeth, muttering something about getting the hell out of there before you had him on the street in front of God and everybody. You’d rode him slow that night, teasing and unhurried, and afterwards you’d curled around him - your mouth on his ear.

“Love you too.”

Everything fell into place after that. Months turned into years and now you were there, in front of him, engagement ring sitting prettily on your finger. You’d been laughing and scoffing as he reminisced about your first moments together, finishing up the bottle of wine you’d ordered.

“I never did finish repaying my debt to you - for not snitching on me.” You teased, sipping back the last of the wine, hiding a smile behind your glass.

Kisame snorted and reached into his jacket, nodding at the waiter who was making his way over.

“You did when you agreed to marry me.”

The small, drunk smile you were sporting turned into a delighted grin, but before Kisame could grab the check from your waiter you’d snatched it effortlessly and placed your own card into the bill, blinking innocently. Kisame scowled and you’d shrugged, leaning back in your seat.

“Looks like you owe me now.”

Kisame felt heat flash through him at the way you were looking at him and leaned forward, grinning.

“Yeah, sweetheart? And how do I repay back this growing debt?”

Your eyes lit up and you waved your hand nonchalantly with a shrug.

“I have a few ideas.”