#playing the hell outta that lute

[sirshankss]

My friend will pay for getting me into gitm. These beings plague my every thought.

[lovevxle]

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆

"I hope it's okay if I love you forever"

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆

Adam x f!reader

cw: cursing, Adam being Adam, kissing, smut.

Summary: Adam asking reader out and getting a bit freaky afterrr

This is the smut version! Fluff version linked here (smut starts after paragraph 7)

a/n: sorry if this version took a bit long to be released! I've been busy with other projects and some requests. Hope you guys enjoy!

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆

"Aw Lute, I'm gonna fuck this up so bad!" Adam said as he paced back and fourth in his office. "Sir, it's really not that big of a deal. You're only asking her out-" Lute replied before being cut off "Not that big of a deal?! What if the bitch rejects me!? What if..." Adam panicked. He'd been planning on asking you out for months, he just didn't know how..

At first, he was his usual confident, cocky self but as soon as he looked at you, his mind blanked. Since then, he'd been trying to find the perfect moment just to ask you. "God, Lute...whenever I look at her..." Adam smiles as he speaks about you, "Her pretty face...her smile...even her voice is just..fuck, her hot ass voice is-" Lute cuts him off "I get it sir, you love her." "Y-yeah...I love her...a lot..but how the hell do I show it without saying stupid shit and being a fuckin' dick?"

Lute sighs and rolls her eyes "Just...be yourself but completely different, y'know? Girls like that type of thing." Adam inhales and exhales "Promise? What if I fuck the whole thing up?" He says, only slightly panicked now. "You wont. Well, you most likely will, but she wont reject you." Lute chuckles as she smiles for the first time in a while. She quickly goes back to her serious self and shoos Adam away to talk to you. "Now get outta here already!"

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾ time skip ☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

Adam composed himself in the mirror, practicing what he was gonna say to you. "sooo...Y/n heh...you're pretty hot so- AW FUCK HOW IN HELL DO I DO THIS?!" he says to the mirror. He soon after walks out of his appartment and spots you walking through heaven. He rushes down to you.

When you see him, you immediately fix your clothes and hair, making sure to look extra cute for him. He appears behind you a few seconds later, acting 'cool' "Sup, buttercup~" he says, smirking seductively (or atleast what he thinks will be seductive to you), when in reality he's panicking. He makes a 'cool' pose, leaning against the wall.

"So~...you know how much i love that peice of ass and i also love railing that peice of ass...but...that's not why I'm here," Adam explains "look, you're cute and funny and..fuck..it's the first way I've felt like this since..Lilith.." He begins to blush and breath faster. "god...just-" he's cut off my your lips pressing against his. It was a light peck, but of course it still made his face heat up. He cups your cheeks (FACE 💀) and pulls away, smiling.

"So you were gonna ask me out?" you ask while you chuckle. "Y-yeah...I was..I'm taking that kiss as a yes?" he replies as he rubs the back of his neck, anxiously. "Yeah, I'll go out with you, dummy." Adam turns around and fist pumps the air "FUCK YEAH!" he yells, causing a few people to turn around and stare. "So I'll pick you up at 8?" He says as he goes back to his 'cool' pose against the wall. "Eh, right now works too."

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾ time skip ☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

You guys had just come home from the date (drunk of course) and stumbled into his appartment. You feel Adam's arms wrap around your waist and rub circles on your hips with his thumbs. "You know how crazy you make me, sugartits~" he whispers in your ear, flicking your earlobe with his tongue.

"A-Adam-" you get cut off by his hands slipping into your pants, playing with the waistband of your underwear. "You fucking tease..." you reply to his dirty moves. "C'mon..want me to make those pretty insides of yours feel real fuckin' good?" he whispers into your ear as he picks you up and plops you down on the bed, crawling over you.

You nod. I mean, with those soothing whispers and playful hands, who could say no? He begins to strip off both his and your clothes, making it agonizingly slow. He kisses and licks up your inner thighs, teasing you until you can't take it. "Are you wet for me yet, babe?" All you could do was nod because of the lack of words that would leave your mouth.

He slowly slips down your soaked underwear to reveal your aching pussy. He slides down his own pants and cups the bulge forming through his boxers. "Look at how hard you make me, baby~" He spreads your legs and sticks his pointer and middle finger inside you. The thumb on his free hand circles your clit as he pumps his fingers in and out of you.

Your moans get louder as his hands pick up the pace inside you. He then slowly slides his hands out, fingers dripping and oozing with your juices. He uses his hands to hold your folds open as he sucks your insides.

After a few minutes of Adam eating you out, he finally lets you feel his hard, raw cock inside of you. "All for you, sugartits~" he says as he thrusts in and out. He holds your hips in place and a knot in your stomach begins to build. "A-Adam I-...I-I'm close- Fuck!" you moan out. "That's it baby~ Just let it out, cum all over me~" he says as he thrusts one more time and-

The knot snaps.

You reach your limit and cum all over Adam's cock. "A-Aghh~!!" You moan out uncontrollably. "Just like that baby, fuck, you're so beautifly perfect.." After your climax, you plop down next to Adam and breath heavily. "God, you're so hot." he says as he wraps his arms around you. "I love you..." you reply.

"Same." he chuckles as he kisses the top of your head.

‧͙⁺˚*･༓ Ars Goetia Reading Quarters (masterlist)

‧͙⁺˚*･༓Become apart of the Ars Goetia council (taglist)

[bloogers-boogers]

CHRISTMAS IN HELL?!

Adam and Michael under the mistletoe or at least the attempt of said holiday tradition plant. Charlie was doing her darn hardest to make everyone feel welcome at the hotel, that includes, sharing holidays and being open to different cultures. For angels it has always been Christmas and for demons it’s been Sinsmas. 

However, after being able to make a truce between Heaven and Hell. So far, it’s only been hell Charlie has been focusing on, which makes sense because they’re her people. But, it’s been bothering her lately that she hasn’t seem to be doing much for heaven citizens, is the hotel benefited them at all? It didn’t seem fair that heaven was giving a hand out while Hell only took and not give back.

She wanted everyone to feel welcome and at home every-time one visited a realm. At least the angels. Almost the entirety of angels refuse to still come down here even knowing about the deal between kingdoms. But, that didn’t stop them from not feeling safe or comfortable in hell. That upseted Charlie a-lot. 

Which lead her to conclude that maybe she wasn’t trying harder, and maybe, that could change.

So her brilliant plan was to add more of heavens nature and traditions to events in hell and activities for her hotel, and somewhat, that seem to work. Little by little angels were starting to get more interested in the hotel, but not just the hotel, but in hell too. Charlie did everything in her power to make the angels feel welcome and understood for their own cultures and views. 

And sooner and later hell on its own started adapting to this new environment between angels and demons. 

Demon making friends with angels, angels indulging in sin outta curiosity (which was bad but well… yeah, there’s always someone who would make a bad decision, that’s not fault of the devil), some even falling in love with the opposite side! 

SOOO— coming back to Christmas. This is the first time ever Charlie is officially hosting a Christmas party at her hotel! And she’s very excited.

Oh! And she forgot to mention that Adam respawned back as a sinner after being stabbed to death by Nifty throughout this whole period. The reason why it’s mentioned, because it’s important to note for this story.

Adam wasn’t too enthusiastic of the whole idea but somewhat he was convinced eventually. 

Charlie didn’t think much of it until her party went from amazing to complete disaster after the incident of mistletoe, her uncle, Adam and her fucking dad.

Her big mistake was to pair up Adam and Michael on grabbing the decorations for the tree while her dad focused on decorating the lobby. It was hard enough to convince her father to even participate on Christmas because that was putting a lot of his pride down for a holiday he cared so little about and, well, heaven. His entire issue with heaven. But at-least he tried for her. 

At first, it was alright. Adam and Michael didn’t make a big fuss about it neither did they cared much to have been asked to get the decorations together. HOWEVER, her dad went  full demon on her about “WHAT WERE YOU THINKING TEAMING UP BOTH OF MY BIGGEST ENEMIES TOGETHER?! That’s like asking Alastor to hold my hand or your mom choosing Adam to play guitar hero! Nothing will end well!!!”

Charlie had shrugged it off at first, telling her father he was overeating and to let them be. It was their choice if they wanted to team up or continue the holiday tradition. She had only paired them up base on how neither men had anyone else to pair up with. The archangels -her angelic uncles- had already teamed up on their own (Uriel and Gabriel) and some didn't bother coming to the party.. not that it upset her! She can understand not everyone believes in her dreams or couldn't make it because of their duties... however she appreciates that Michael, Gabriel and Uriel choose to come!

And for Adam, Lute hadn't come down to hell to participate in the party, for his misfortune. He was so enthusiastic about seeing her again but was doubtful she'd come. And, well, he was right to doubt cause she didn't. So he was quite in a down mood.

"Adam needs a partner who can understand him and can properly discipline him if he goes outta control," she had told her father.

Lucifer points at himself in disbelief, "Am I invisible!?"

"Dad. You don’t even like Adam! You’re just upset that your brother has something you can't."

"What?? Noooo! What can he have that I don't? Adam? I don't want Adam!" Lucifer hissed slightly annoyed, "and I don't hate the guy..."

"That's not what I meant. I meant that unc- Michael has no bad history with Adam, so they will be fine."

"That isn't entirely true," Uriel chimes in the conversation while drinking eggnog.

"A-HA!!" Lucifer shouts wit a 'I tOlD YoU sO' manner.

"Oh?? Do they have a bad history too??" Charlie ask now worried.

"Worse. They're exes." Gabriel decides to add while joining the conversation.

Charlie gasped in shock, Lucifer's mouth fell to the floor looking absolutely baffled and horrified at the same time.

"But don't worry!" Uriel quickly added, "it's been literally centuries since that happened! Michael is mature enough to leave that in the past, Adam... well.. let's be grateful they didn't leave on bad terms so I can't see the guy holding a grudge for Mikey."

And as if he was proving a point, Uriel turns to look at the forgotten exes who were in fact getting along and seemingly looking like having a civil conversation.

Michael and Adam were laughing while untangling some lights. You can tell there was a hint of softness in the stare Adam gave to Michael and vice versa.

Lucifer frowned while his eyes went back and forth from Adam to Michael. Displeased.

What the little group didn't know, is that Lucifer had previously been getting along with Adam. They've been spending time together away from the sight of others. He found that there was something there. Attraction at the most. To the point he had almost made a move on Adam the night prior but couldn't, and, coward after Angel burst into the living room and hogged Adam's whole attention away from him.

He knew he shouldn't be making any moves on the first man, after everything they've been through, after regaining some of Adam's trust back, he was basically playing with fire here. But he's the king of hell, and hell is made of fire and fire is something he's lived with for eternity.

And so he wants to live with this fire for eternity.

But he didn’t know there was a fucking extinguisher near by!!!

It had been three hours since Lucifer remained calm and acted unbothered by the choice of pairs his precious daughter had picked for them. He loved that he was settled to pair up with his dauther-in-law but he hated that he had to deal with having to see Michael share a dance with Adam. He didn't expect to be this angry for a man who he couldn't consider to fell the same way for him. But still. Shit. Maybe Charlie was right, maybe it was because it was Michael of all people to have him. Would it be same if it were Alastor? Maybe. He would definitely not be phased a bit if Adam was paired up with angel or that bartender cat demon. But fuck.

Fuck, fuck! WHAT THAT FUCK IS HAPPENING?!

He had only zooned out for a few seconds and suddenly Adam was dipped down and kissed by his so call brother under the mistletoe of all horrors!!

He yanked some of his hair out before his horns poked out and flames surrounded all the hotel, startling everyone there, everyone moved passed him from the anger emitted with each stomp.

Michael quickly let go of Adam with wide eyes as a deer caught in headlights, Lucifer walked slowly towards him, full demonic form.

"Dad, breath!" Charlie shouted from inside the crowd.

"Fuck breathing," he said in the most deep, echoing voice he's ever used. Claws getting sharper as his glare kept straight to Michael.

Hours in, and the whole hotel was destroyed. For a second time. Two brothers fighting in the air like it was some sorta battlefield to whoever dies wins the prize.

"Is anyone planning to do something?!" Charlie says, visible stressed out.

"Weeeeeell, last time someone intervened, Lucifer got his wings cut off and cast dead to hell, Michael got one wing cut off, permanently fucked up vision from getting his eyes yanked out from his skull and hell turned from a scary story our father would read us at night to a absolute real living nightmare. So I'll pass," Uriel added while eating some snowman cookies.

Gabriel nodded, being passed the eggnog and taking a long gulped.

After being trauma dumped, Charlie opted to just stare at the two entities of unbearable power. Helpless.

"What is wrong with you! I thought we were all having a good time! I thought this is what you wanted?!" Michael shouted angrily at his brother.

"What I wanted?! Why in all hells would I want this!?" Lucifer screamed in disbelief.

"Because we came here to support your daughters dreams?! Isn't that what you wanted?? Isn't this what you needed for some sorta closure!!?"

"Closure!? What the fuck are you talking about! I'm pissed because you kissed Adam!"

Both men stared at eachother for painful silent seconds.

"Oh. OH," Michael starts saying in realization, "so you're the guy."

Lucifer frown intensifies.

"Yes. I'm the "guy", is that really how Adam refers me as?"

Michael shrugs, "no. Actually he never mentions you at all."

"Okay, so where da fuck did you get "the guy" from?" Lucifer says in a more annoyed than angry way.

"I figured there was someone else base on how Adam wouldn't reciprocate my advances. Back in our early breakup days we'd fuck every chance we got. Now he genuinely just wants to hang out and I respect that. Totally. I just didn't think he'd move on so fast."

Lucifer pinched his nose in annoyance, "Firstly. Ew. Secondly, it's been centuries, for what I been told from those imbeciles under us."

Michael was about to add something else but both were interrupted by a fast speed angel flying towards downwards to the ground, shouting, "ADAAAAAAAMM!!!"

It was Lute, who was immediately welcomed with open arms by a overwhelmed happy Adam.

"Lute!!" He screams excited.

"I'm so sorry Adam! I wanted to come but things came up and I didn't want to di-"

Adam cuts her off kissing her and she then seconds later kisses him back.

Lucifer and Michael were too stunned to speak but also, internally preparing themselves for a long dreadful public apology.

[jinkiezzsstuff]

if you don’t mind me asking, when are the next installments of the transmigrated reader series coming out?

So sorry it’s taken so long! It’s been a wild couple of weeks and I’ve been jumping from fic to fic tryna get each one complete! I hope this is a satiating enough! Hopefully when life lets up a bit i can write the longer shit i like to do teehee

Transported (3)

Hazbin crew x male!reader

characters featured: Emily, Sera, Lute, Adam, Vaggie, Charlie, Sir Pentious,

part: [1] [2]

words: 1.3k

warnings: swearing, sera is implied to be kinda bad kinda a hater, adam calls you big balls little dick, male read btw, goat reader, readers implied to be tall, shortish, sir pentious is gonna be a lad, not proofread!

Standing alongside Vaggie and Charlie in the courtroom, you guitily tuned out the entire ordeal, you’d seen the scene many times before and lietened to the song on repeat, that actually was a problem as you starting singing along with the two of high made Vaggie give you a confused look. You however simply shrugged that off like it was nothing.

You waited for the scene to be set and for the three of you to be forced into the portal Adam would create and be good onto the next. However that didn’t happen, instead Sera, Lute, Emily and Adam came down in front of you Charlie and Vaggie, the other angels flying away. “So big dick goat boy, what’s the shtick with you?” Adam clicks his tongue, hands on his hips as he looks up to you, inwardly you panic but hold together, giving a quick glance over to Sera who looked quite menacing at the moment. “What do you mean?” Charlie stepped in, exhaustion lacing her tone, understandably as she just found out her girlfriend is an ex angel.

“Well it’s just that big balls little dick here is outta place, even Sera said-“ Sera promptly cut the first man off with a stern call of his name and a glare. He sulked crossing his arms and sticking his tongue out, however he kept his mouth shut. Charlie didn’t seem like she was in the mood to question what Adam was going to say, thank goodness, but Sera didn’t seem to be done. “You know, some of us were born to be, and others made to be, but none of us just appear out of thin air we all have a purpose in heaven, or hell.”

Charlie crossed her arms shrinking back, probably making the assumption the comment was about the hotel, however Sera had her sight set on you, her eyes glowing with meaning. You glanced over at Adam and Lute, Lute seemed to giving you a hard glare, but Adam didn’t seem to care scrolling through his phone. “We do all have a purpose than, even the ones who appear out of thin air may serve a purpose.” You claim wearily, yet attempt to keep your ground as your eyes bounce from person to person. Your hands shoved in your pants pockets you stood tall, horns sticking up high past your head.

“Yeah, cool, whatever-bye bitches! we’re coming straight to your hotel this extermination!” Adam broke the silence butting in, now this is what you were familiar with as the portal opened, Adam shoved you three through, Charlie freaking out and trying to get at Adam. You caught one last glimpse of Sera’s cold gaze as the portal closed, and you just know things aren’t gonna be good from here.

~

Vaggie was downstairs at the bar, not drinking but just sitting. She wish you didn’t see the way things played out, and she was embarrassed you found out she was a fallen angel too. Walking up to the bar, your hooves clopping against the ground alerted her of your presence before you slid into the barstool beside her. She didn’t bother looking up at you, or even saying anything to you, just at quietly.

She half expected you to sling out questions one by one about her being an exorcist, however you just sat quietly with her. In your mind you wanted to comfort her, but after today it would be too suspicious for you to act in a way that is too out of the ordinary, like giving the impression you’re an all knowing fortune teller. Instead you gave Vaggies back a few comforting pats, when she looked toward you, you offered a small smiled.

Vaggie seemed to appreciate the gesture smiling back and giving a nod, you’re hopefull things lighten up soon. As Vaggie went to open her mouth an inquisitive look taking over her features, the hotel doors slammed open, and in walked Angel with Alastor. “Weird there coming in together.” You mutter, giving Vaggie a look, she hummed in agreement. Angel plopped himself down on the couch, meanwhile Alastor lingered creepily in the back, close enough but still far. “So how’d things go with the holy? What’s the plan?” Angel asked lounging across the sofa, Vaggie nervously looked around scratching the back of her neck.

“We don’t…. Charlie will come up with something a big plan is going to happen.” Vaggie affirmed, out of the corner you watch Alastor fade into black goop, you already knew the plan was going to go down… but should you really intervene? It seems your presence in the show has already caused disturbances in the way things are playing out, if you stop the deal from happening who knows what crazy twist things will take.

But… you know the angels can die, which is what Alastor wants to make the deal for. In the middle of your inner battle the green shot through the room making you tense. “Too late,” You mutter watching as Vaggie run off. “What did you say bad boy?” Nifty creepily asked breathlessly, hugging the bottom of your leg. You grimaced watching as Angel gave you a look, Pentious slithering into the picture. “Nifty, invading onessss perssonal ssspacce issss very rude,” Pentious reason hissing out his words, you smile at him genuinely, watching as he tried to poke the little devil off.

She hissed like a demented animal, and clung tighter to your leg. “Don’t test her, I saw how she can be with Val.” Angel muttered, Husk who entered behind the bar not long ago spat out his drink. “Angel!” You tilted your head confused, oh right, they went to the bar, and you’re not supposed to know that. Acting confused, you attempt to save Angel the lecture of keeping his mouth shut, instead you simply bent down and tore the cyclops off you. “Hey, Pentious?” You questioned plopping Nifty down, her cackling and running off. “Yessss?” The snake hissed tilting his head, you wrapped your arm around his back guiding him away from the others. “I was curious about your inventions, and you would know better than anyone..” You trail off your hand making a circular motion as you try to find the words.

“You think Id know better than anyone?” Sir pentious said in astonishment sparkles in his eyes. You smiled at him and nodded. “Yeah, i want some scientific advice.” He clapped his hands together happily, ready to help. “Do you think it’s possible to move between like universes? Like falling into a wormhole?” You questioned as nonsuspiciously as you could, however Sir pentious was used to his egg boys madness and didn’t mind it at all. He perked up hands tapping on his lip as he though.

“I supposssse? We’d have to confirm the existenccce of other universsesss firssst.” He said matter of factly, you hummed, trying to figure out how you could question him further without him questioning you back. “I’m just really interested with theories of other life and realms, especially since finding out hells real.”

The snake nodded understandingly as he listened to your explanation, it seemed like he was trying to figure out what to say. “You know that isss quite interessssting! I’m alwayss ssso focussed on killing machinesss! I’m going to do sssome sstudying!” Pentious proclaimed finger in the air, you chuckled at his over the top reaction, but pat him on the back bidding him ado as he slithered off. Fiddling with the cuffs on your suit you wandered aimlessly back over to where Angel and Husk stayed situated.

“Heya babe~” Angel whistled at you dragging your attention away. “Yeah?” You say a little air headed like, you felt weirdly about everything especially after seeing Sera and the angels, you wonder what they saw in you that the demons couldn’t? “Wanna play a card game until the others come down?” Angel guestured over to Husk who had the cards between his claws.

Might as well relax a bit, after all it’s only a matter of time before the battle.

[nutal]

what are some sinner!adam headcanons u got? Throw em at me heheheheheh

AWWW YEAH HERE WE GO

ok before I start though,

warning for angst and sh and attempts at self mutilation mentions

SINNER ADAM HEADCANONS

- Literally would be in so much damn disbelief and denial at first like “no no no fuck shit fucking this can’t be happening there’s no way… I’m being screwed with right now”

- Would refuse to engage in convo with ANYBODY who tries to help him telling them to go fuck themselves while his voice is cracking and he’s just stuck kneeling on the floor like gripping at the rubble below him trying to understand what the HELL is happening

- Once he realizes he has horns he tries like aggressively pulling them off of his skull on instinct, similar thing happens with his wings when he realizes they aren’t angelic or feathery anymore… he just starts attacking them just scratching the fuck outta his back thinking he could like tear them off or something but it ends up causing MAJOR damage and visible marks on his flesh because he has like talons for nails now

- He gets even more freaked out when he realizes that after all the damage he caused on himself, that it didn’t even work and his blood is…. Red. It’s red. Not gold.

- “This is insane. This is insane. THIS IS FUCKING INSANE YOU GUYS ARE FUCKING WITH ME. THIS IS LUCIFER’S DOING I KNOW IT IS, FUCK YOU AND YOUR PIECE OF SHIT DAUGHTER MAKE IT STOP ALREADY.”

- He ends up trying to find the most cornered out place possible and just self isolates for a good few days before being practically forced into the hotel where he ends up threatening and boasting to everyone and like smashing every mirror he finds because of how he looks now. He wasn’t too damn confident about how he looked under the mask before but boy, he REALLY isn’t now.

- “I belong in HEAVEN, not in this SHITHOLE WITH YOU LOSERS. I’m a winner… I’m fucking Adam… I’m like, the best… right? I’m the first man, I deserve to be worshipped back up there, as always… right?? Fucking hell this shit… hurts.”

- Feels like Lute’s gonna hate him if she ever found out, like there’s just no hope, he was supposed to be damn perfect, and that’s why she always stuck by him… and now… now that he’s just always exposed and vulnerable all the time coupled with all his (now messed up) demonic features.. he’s a total mess

- Was able to find an electric guitar and snatched it since music kinda helps him out and he plays the songs he used to play to Lute on it to immerse himself in those old days and moments even if just for a bit, if he closes his eyes for long enough, then maybe for a second he can believe none of this ever happened, and he’s back in Heaven, just playing his tunes to her

I apologize.

[pikaglove]

Monk run done, here are her headcanons

Bianca Lasslail

• High elf

• Monk (4 elements)

• Noble

• Trans female

• Pansexual

• Late 40s

• Lover: Karlach

• Takes estrogen potions to maintain her gender identity

• Realized she was trans while training as a monk

• Likes to tease friends

• Took music lessons as a kid but never kept up with practice.

• Canonically intimidated a hag

• Is willing to get 2nd degree burns just to bang Karlach

• Has jokingly told Karlach that she should fuck her while she is still burning because then that would be free bottom surgery.

• Got a cut on her lip when she was fighting with a mean girl who bullied her and the bully punched her in the mouth while wearing a diamond ring.

• Dyes her gray hairs pink

• Got into a lot of schoolyard fights

• Became a monk to manage her anger better and get good at fighting

• The 2nd born out of 4

• She has 1 older sister and 2 younger brothers

• Not the best relationship with her sister but good relationship with her brothers

• Used to have unhinged white boy moments with her brothers.

• ADHD

• Was 15 when she went to train as a monk

• Pegged Astarion

• Can catch arrows with bare hands

• Too slutty for lae'zel apparently

• Sold a gith egg because she thought the child would have a better life away from her group cause they cause trouble. (She was mistaken)

• Likes to have girl's nights

• Gave herself the absolute brand

• Her and Karlach are the gay moms that get the gang outta trouble

• Likes when her breasts are touched

• Shares a bath with Karlach 90% of the time

• Wyll is her bff

• Enemy to the goblins

• Saved Minthara

• Mainly uses fire spells

• Took the tadpole

• Is fond of Baulder's Gate

• Got judged by Astarion, Wyll, and Shadowheart for fucking the mind flayer (the startbucks crew)

• Was misgendered once in the marketplace

• Is called more elven slurs than she is misgendered

• Plays lute for Karlach

• Has assulted Karlach's face with kisses (consentual)

• Becoming a monk has helped her gender dysphoria

• Could not save Astarion from Ascending and regrets it every day.

• Her and Karlach sacrificed themselves during the iron throne (#couplegoals)

• Rejected her nobility after becoming a monk

• Did not fuck Haarlep

• Least favorite vegetable is cabbages

• Went to Avernus with Karlach

• Has had to ask her siblings for money

• Took up a smoking habit when she went to Avernus

• Hangs out with Hope sometimes in her home

• Murders devils with her bare hands

• Avoids Astarion any time she can

• Reminds Astarion about how she pegged him at the tiefling party whenever he talks about how great he is as a lord

• Has had to threaten Astarion to stand down from trying to take over Baulder's Gate on multiple occasions

• Has warned her siblings to not attend high society parties hosted by Astarion

• Will beat the shit out of Mizora and Zariel

• Searching for a cure for Karlach

• After most of our heros have walked the valley of Judgement, rumors of a monk still roams the hells killing demons along the way

[destinyesque]

Might Not Make it Home

https://archiveofourown.org/works/32632597/chapters/80949649

North Imaria has been under the merciless rule of the crown for over two decades and it seems the people have finally had enough. Unrest stirs among even the tiniest towns in the frozen mountains. Main streets grow silent as the noble guard rallies. There's enough fuel for the revolutionary fire; someone just needs to light the fuse.

Vizara is a bard, and a damn good one at that. She's played at taverns all across the north, seen the fight grow in her people. Her whole life has been for this. All the sleeping around, the ale and food and coin-all of it is secondary (not that she doesn't enjoy it). She's going to rouse her people into glorious rebellion against the unjust monarchy, and she's going to win. She just doesn't know how difficult it is going to be.

___________________

A young woman in vibrant violet clothes strummed on her lute, tapping her toe in time to the beat of the lively tavern tune. She directed a wink at a bargoer close to her before leaping up onto his table. Carefully avoiding the empty plates, her purple slippers stomped down on the wood with a soft, but audible thump. She sucked in a deep breath and began to sing. The song, “The Pickpocket's Lover”, was well known here, and soon the tavern patrons were singing and clapping along with the music. The woman weaved gracefully between the tables, spinning and dancing as the tune picked up speed. The whip-quick braid in her hair followed her eagerly, drawing curves in the air behind her head when she whirled around to play for the crowd behind her. Cheeks flushed dark with exertion and sweat dripping down her brow, she drew the song to its end. At the far side of the room, she struck the final chord, took a beer from one of the waitresses, and downed half of it in one gulp. The crowd at the tavern, now some forty or fifty people, cheered. The woman raised her mug in the air triumphantly.

 "Here's to th' North!" she cried, to even more applause, and then made as if to throw the mug to the ground. The waitress she'd taken the beer from quickly stilled her hand, as if she was expecting it. If she said anything to the bard, nobody could hear it for all the noise. The bard shrugged and took another swig. "'right y'all, I just gotta wet my throat a moment, then I'll be right back with ya." She fired another wink into the crowd as she made towards the kitchen, and if she kicked her lute case (already harboring quite a bit of coin) a little further towards the crowd, none of them seemed to care.

 The woman slipped through the door to the kitchen, soon followed by the waitress. At the last glimpse of her violet tunic and teal beads, the crowd turned back to their food and drink. The kitchen door swung shut, and that was the last any of them saw of the bard that night.

 ~~~~~

 Past that kitchen door, the bard nabbed a piece of fresh bread from the cook's hands, to an indignant "hey!" with no real malice behind it. She turned to the waitress with the smile of one who knows she has done something quite wrong, but who does not care. Appropriately, the waitress had a rather unimpressed expression across her face.

"Good show, eh?" The bard said through a mouthful of warm bread. The waitress huffed.

"Quite." The bard went on eating, as if oblivious to the other woman's annoyance.

"I'm thinking about addin’ a few more new songs to my repertoire." she said, "I've been writin’ some pretty songs as of late. 'Specially the ones about the coming revolution." She eyed the waitress at the last sentence with a hint of humor in her voice.

"Give me that!" The waitress ripped the hunk of bread from the bard's hands to another surprised "hey!" from the offended party. "You need to keep quiet about that revolution of yours. The only reason anyone here tolerates your ridiculous ideas is that you bring in good business. Step too far out of line, and we'll all get in more trouble than any of us can deal with."

"The crowd seemed to like me," the bard supplied. "It's strange, how the northerners seem to like the North. Can I please have my bread back?"

"Take this seriously! I know you couldn't care less about the rest of us, but if you get arrested, you won't get any work either!"

"I ain't planning on gettin' arrested, my friend. I'm only planning on gettin' the damn army outta here. And you can plan on gettin' business so long as there's any folk left here. Nobody's gonna care that I think the guard should get fucked. Hell, that's what they all think too."

"I hate you," the waitress growled, wild-eyed.

"Should'a said that 'fore you slept with me," the bard retorted, plucking her bread back from the waitress and promptly turning to walk further into the kitchen.

"Also, stop trying to smash my damned mugs!" the waitress yelled before slamming open the kitchen door open and walking back out into the tavern.

"I think you sang real well t'night, Vizara." the cook put in after a moment.

"Thank you!" Vizara, the bard, answered. "I can always count on you t' give a girl the credit she deserves."

The cook sighed deeply. "I do think you should cut back on the whole--well--the things that Melya was talkin’ about." She leaned over to inspect a simmering pot of stew in lieu of meeting the gaze of the bard.

It was a while before Vizara answered her. "I know. I don't want t' hurt y'all's business, really. I'm just damn tired of the damn monarchy and their damned games. So is everybody else. All they need is a push, and then we can get rid of the guard. Don't you wanna be free of kings? I sure as hell do.

Plus, I'm only here a handful'a times a year. I surely can't bring any real suspicion down here. Hell, Melya was just about the only waitress I recognized when I got here. Not that y'all have many other waitresses."

"Sometimes I think you talk just to hear your own voice," the cook commented. She ladled some of the stew into a bowl and handed it to Vizara. "Take one of the cloaks on the wall by the door and head outside for a bit, ‘kay? I'll talk to Melya,"

"Don't want me 'round anymore, huh?" she joked, pulling a cloak over her thin tunic and bare shoulders. "Really, you're the best, Eviah. The only one around here with any manners,"

Eviah made no reply, simply shooing the bard out the door with a roll of her eyes.

 The wind outside was biting cold. It was easy to forget near the fires and warm food of the tavern, but it worked its way through the fabric of the cloak in a matter of moments. Vizara huddled on one of the stairs leading down from the back door, watching for a few moments as her breath turned to mist.

"'bit like a dragon, ain't it?" she murmured to herself. "If only I had a horde of gold to go along with it."

She drew the cloak in closer. "Warm fire'd be good too." She absently cast her gaze around the small, dark alley. There was a bit of snow on the ground, but not enough to cause any trouble to pedestrians and carts, not that the carts could fit into the alley in any case. The overhanging roofs of the tavern and another nearby shop blocked most of the light from the moon, which was probably good, since nobody would've wanted to see the sundry food waste tossed back there. Vizara could hear the quiet rustling of what she presumed was a few rats digging about in the garbage, but far be it from her to take a look. She wrapped her hands around the hot bowl to bring some feeling back into her fingers, a bit numb from both the lute and the cold.

So she sat, eating her stew as the night went on and the comforting bustle of the tavern carried on behind her. After a short while, she set the empty bowl down beside her and took the lute off her back. Soft music began to drift up amongst the scuttling of the rats as she strummed the first few notes to a love song.

“Maybe I’ll play this one next,” she whispered. She leaned back against the door and hummed along to the quiet tune.

Her fingers stilled only a moment later as she heard some odd noise out in the street, past the entrance to the alleyway. The shriek of an animal (or perhaps a child? she couldn't say) echoed off the close walls.

“The hell was that?” She got to her feet, turning her head toward the noise. Again, the same shriek. Certainly the sound of a person now.  

Vizara fumbled in the waistband of her pants for a small knife, not much more than a toothpick. She dropped the cloak from her shoulders and slung her lute across her back once more.

With a deep breath, she crept out onto the street, tiny blade in hand. It was dark; few lanterns were ever out at night. The town was small, its people poor. Still, with a cursory glance, she saw the silhouettes of three or four people cast in the light of the brothel across the street. The screams hadn't stopped—they'd just gotten quieter. They'd become yelps, and then wordless protests, and now, just pained whimpering.

 She could see now—as she snuck ever closer—the small body of a child held down by the much bigger guards. The blade in her hand felt insufficient, useless. She faltered, slowed almost to a stop. The guards hadn't noticed her. She was quiet and they were occupied with the protesting figure in the dirt beneath them. She could back away into the alley just as easily as she had left it, and nobody would be the wiser. The crowd awaited her back in the tavern. She was much better suited to that kind of work—the rustling up, the inspiring, not the fighting itself. But, hell, who was she if she didn’t practice what she preached? And who was getting hurt in her place if she did nothing?

​

The glint of silver mail in the low light caught her eye once more. The crest of the royal family glowed gold on the guards' tunics, splashed with mud and blood and violence. Another strangled cry slipped from the child's lips as he was jabbed with the butt end of a spear. She was only a few lengths away from the closest guard. A full body shiver struck Vizara's body, shaking the little knife in her hand.

​

She started into a run, the movement catching the attention of one of the guards. They shouted to their companions, but the warning came too late. Vizara, much shorter than the guard nearest her, jabbed her knife into his armpit, where she knew was an opening in his armor. He stumbled back with a heavy huff, and the knife was yanked from Vizara's hands. She reached for it again, her left hand up to defend herself from the other two guards. Her fingers brushed the handle, but she couldn't get a good grip on it—she'd sunk the whole blade into his arm. Plus, he and his two companions were getting his wits about him once more. He was going for his spear amongst a slew of curses. It didn't come to that. Vizara heard a monstrous Crack! and then a moment later, her left arm flared up in pain. She fully lost hold of the knife. It didn't matter anymore. Her arm—what happened to her arm? She looked up to the flash of silver as she was struck in the chest with the blunt end of a spear.

​

She went down with a heavy huff. Her arm throbbed and maybe she couldn’t use her fingers? And her face was in the dirt and her chest ached and she couldn’t see anything for the dark and the terror.

​

She looked out over her injured arm, bleary and gasping. The child—a young elf, no older than fifteen—still lay prone on the ground, one of the three guards standing above him. Vizara's vision swam as dread descended.

​

One of the guards kicked her over onto her back and she rolled painfully over her lute. She winced, tried to sit up, but was immediately pushed right back down, slamming her head into the dirt.

​

"Fuck." she sucked in a breath. "Can—can I at least move the lute? Don't want to break the lute."

​

The guard who'd kicked her—a woman who Vizara would find attractive in any other situation—grabbed her collar and none-too-gently yanked her into a sitting position. Another guard maneuvered the lute from her back, jostling her hurt arm and eliciting a rather embarrassing whimper from her. She gathered up her wits and forced the stars out of her eyes.

​

"Ah, thank you." Vizara babbled, forcing a smile. "As a good bard once said 'you can break my bones but not my banjo'."

​

"You fucking stabbed me!" bellowed the guard she'd stabbed, and swung the body of the lute into her head.  

  ~~~~~~

 Vizara awoke with what she at first thought was a bad hangover. She felt groggy, confused, and her head pounded—a situation she'd found herself in many a time before. She moaned in pain and closed her eyes once more, but she found no comfort in sleep, for she had neither pillow nor bed to sleep on. Instead, the surface beneath her was hard, rough, and cold.

​

Her eyelids were heavy, and as her conscious awareness grew, she forced them open. Bewilderment abounded for a few moments. Where the hell was she?

​

The room was dark and small. A barred window above her head cast a square of light on the stone floor and glinted off the edge of a tarnished metal bucket. She recognized the trappings of the room—a prison cell for sure, she’d been in more than enough to know—but it took her a few moments to recall the circumstances that had landed her here. She had been all set to perform at the bar the night before; she'd make a bit of coin, flirt with some strangers, and sleep with even more of them. Clearly, something had gone wrong. Such a waste of a good night!

​

She racked her brain, piecing together all that had happened after her performance: the conversation with Melya and Eviah, the cold alley, and then the sight of the guards kicking a child that had spurred her to action. A grim satisfaction came over her as she remembered stabbing one of the guards in the armpit. At least she'd done some good damage before she'd gone down. Nothing after that came back to her. She must have gotten her ass kicked pretty quick after the stabbing; the pain in her head and her arm could attest to that.

​

She touched her injured arm, and it didn’t hurt terribly. The ambient light described an ugly bruise. Nothing that wouldn’t heal. And her head ached, but she could deal with that. After all, it wasn’t much worse than her usual hangover. Vizara felt across her chest for any more injuries. There was a pain in her left side when she pressed down on it, but it didn't seem to be too serious. She huffed a sigh of relief and immediately winced when her chest took issue with it. All things considered, she’d gotten off pretty easy.

​

With a grunt, she stood up. She could make out the shape of a wooden door in the dim. There was a slit under it through which a bit of light trickled. Probably how food was delivered to the prisoners. The thought of other prisoners stuck in Vizara's mind for a second—what had happened to the child? She prayed to any god that would pay her mind that he had gotten away. Although… if there were other prisoners, maybe she could orchestrate an escape. She'd been learning to rouse the masses for years now; surely, she could incite some kind of prison riot or revolution if she had to. But where was her lute? She didn't need that to inspire crowds, but it sure helped.

​

"If you bastards stole my lute," she murmured to no one. "I'm gonna fuckin' lose it."

​

She looked around the room, but there were only stone walls and one window and a dingy chamber pot. Nothing practical to help her, and no lute in sight.

​

Without anything to do and no chance of getting back to sleep, Vizara spent what seemed to be an interminable amount of time pacing about the cell. She found herself shivering in the cold air, but the movement helped. If she didn't find a way to get out of here soon, she could very well be stuck in this hellhole forever. The law of the kingdom wasn't known for its charity.

 The light from the small window had significantly brightened and then dimmed again by the time Vizara saw any company. She reckoned it was around sunset when there came the clamor of heavy footsteps outside her cell door. She moved to the back corner of the cell to give herself a bit of space once the guards came in; for they were coming in—the rustle of keys and the sound of voices reached her, dampened by the thick door but still clear enough. There was a soft click, and the door swung open, light from the hallway beyond cascading in. Vizara squinted at the loss of comfortable darkness.

​

There were three guards, dark in the doorway, just like the night before. She couldn't tell if they were all the same ones, but she vaguely recognized one of the female guards. They were dressed in the customary mail, with the sign of the monarchy across their chests. The longswords at their hip drew Vizara's eyes—she couldn't brute force her way past them, even if she had a weapon of her own.

​

She allowed two of the guards to approach her and none-too-gently shackle her right arm, hooking the other end of a long chain to a bar in the window. They backed away, now out of her reach, as if she posed any kind of danger to them.

​

"Vizara Whitecrest," the female guard started.

​

"Hello, yes, that's me," Vizara said, a fake smile on her lips. "It seems my reputation precedes me."

​

"I don't care much for pleasantries." she glowered. "I am only here to assess your account and determine an appropriate punishment."

​

"That's just great." Vizara sat down and put her hands in her lap. "I'm sure you know, I was rather very drunk last night, and quite out of my right mind. Now, I had no intention of attackin' anyone yesterday, but you must understand, certain things are bound to happen when one is that inebriated."

​

"I didn’t come here for idle chat and excuses." she said. "No proper bard drinks during her performance.”

 “Now there’s your problem, sweetheart. I ain’t any kind’a proper bard.”

  “You sure as hell didn’t seem drunk when you stabbed Oliver.” The woman harrumphed. “I’ve never seen a drunkard harm a trained guard, let alone one your size.”

 Vizara shrugged. “’Spose I got lucky.”

 “See, I don’t think you did. You knew just where to aim, and I’m damned if your aim wasn’t perfect.” She considered. “You’ve done this before.”

 “I ain’t done nothin’ of the sort.” Vizara insisted, and she could only blame her pounding head when she added “Only time I’ve laid a hand on a guardsman is in bed, and he damn near begged me to hit him.”

 The guard’s face screwed up in something halfway between annoyance and fury. Vizara winced, her smile falling. “I don’t mean any offense or nothin’, course! I’m just—"

 Patience run out, the guard strode into her space and slammed her into the wall, cutting her off with a sharp gasp. Her left arm pinned Vizara's shoulders to the wall, her right pressing into Vizara’s wounded chest. The bard wheezed in pain, and her mask of nonchalance faded into visible distress.

 ​“We both know you weren’t drunk, you stupid fucking half-elf.” She ground Vizara’s shoulders into the wall. “I’m not here to play games, and I don’t tolerate lies. If you’d like to keep your head, you’ll tell me everything. I want to know if you’ve attacked guardsmen before, and what I can do to make you never attack us again. I want to know about every Northerner who so much as fucking thought about going after the guard. Lie to me once more, and I will make sure you never sing again.”

 "I—" Vizara pushed against the guard's adamant armor before she could think better of it. "Fucking—get off me!"

​

The woman moved in an instant, grasping Vizara's left hand in her armored gauntlet and pinning it against the wall. Vizara couldn’t even tell what was happening until the guard’s dagger was flashing against her throat and she was screaming into it. Her head slammed against the stone wall and she almost didn't feel it when the guard let her drop to the floor.

​

She took in gasping breaths as her vision returned. She clapped her hand to her neck, now pulsing with blood. Her eyes drifted to the ceiling. Her throat worked painfully, as if trying to swallow back down the lost blood.

​

“It’s not hard,” the woman said, "all you need to do is sit there and tell the truth.” Then, to someone else, she ordered, “go make sure the windows are boarded for the storm. I can handle her.”

​

She knelt in front of Vizara and grasped her chin in one metal hand. The bard moaned and tried to turn away, but to no avail. She was weak and reeling from the pain.

​

The guard turned Vizara's face toward her own. Vizara saw the other two guards had left them, and the door to the cell was closed. She and the guard were alone now and there was no one there to save her from her suffering.

 “I’m not afraid to carve out your vocal cords and let you choke on blood until I’m kind enough to let our healer seal you shut. And right now, I’m really considering it for the insolence alone.” Her voice was quiet now. Soft. Almost saccharine sweet with the way she breathed into Vizara’s ear. “You’re lucky I’m nice. This doesn’t have to get any more difficult than you've already made it."

​

Even bleeding her brain dizzy, Vizara wasn't fooled. She would suffer more tortures before any of these people had finished with her. Not much of anything could save her now from that. But she was hurt. And she was alone. And she was afraid. And she wanted it to be over.

 "I'm don't know anyone else," Vizara rasped, tasting copper on her tongue. "I'm on my own. The tavern—they don't pay me or anythin' like that. I'm just there to make some coin and they want more business. 's that simple. 'm not from here, either. Don't know anyone here, 'cept a few folks I'm a bit familiar to. Nobody from my hometown's seen me in months. They're innocent in all this."

​

All of the sudden, it was very hard to breathe. There was a roaring in her ears.

​

"Please, I'm beggin' you. Don't hurt them," Vizara felt pinprick tears in the corners of her eyes. "Don't hurt me, neither, please. 'm just a fool of a bard. Wanted t' fight against the kingdom, someway, somehow. And I was stupid. I can’t do anythin’ all on my own. I can hardly defend myself. I ain’t a threat to anyone, ‘specially not the guard. I promise, I didn't want nobody to get hurt, 'least, nobody I cared much about. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t’a done that. I’m so sorry."

​

The cell and the woman before her became watery, submerged in her own tears. The guard straightened up and Vizara waited for a blow to fall upon her. She waited for a reply. Waited for something. Waiting for anything better than waiting.

​

Damn near an eternity passed between them in silence, and Vizara finally peeked out of the shelter of her arms. The guard was looking at her, but not. She had cocked her head to one side to listen to something outside of the room. Vizara listened as best she could between the heaving of her chest and the tiny gasps hiccupping from her throat. There was a roar, she thought, like a great waterfall or a stampede of animals. She heard it faint, but even as she listened it came closer as if to suffocate her in the noise. She futilely clapped her free hand to a sensitive half-elf ear. A sense of dread came over her, but also a desperate hope. If this loud, horrible noise was as powerful as it seemed, maybe it could tear her away from here. Maybe it could drag the guard away. Hell, she’d be glad if this thing killed her if it meant escaping the grasp of this merciless woman. A woman who was now standing in the middle of the cell, paying no more attention to Vizara.

​

Vizara removed her hand from her ear, wincing at the booming, cacophonous sound. She pushed herself to her feet, but as the ground trembled, she fell back upon the floor. She pressed her left ear to the ground and her hand to her right, and she tried to keep the blood from slipping through her fingers. She pulled her legs to her chest and huddled close into herself. The noise was now right on top of her. This is the end of the world, rang clear in Vizara's tangled thoughts.

​

There was a tremendous crash, and everything shook, and small stones fell on Vizara's prone form.

​

And after a time, the noise receded into the distance.

​

And it was deafeningly quiet.

​

Vizara's ears rang and everything that she was hurt. She curled ever closer as wracking cries filled her chest.

​

But at the very least, she was alive.

[buckyscrystalqueen]

The Resistant Omega: Part 1

Pairings: Omega!Mickey Milkovich x Male Alpha!Reader

Warnings: Swearing, Smut.

Word Count: 2,513

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

There was no way in hell that anyone that didn’t live there could describe life in the South-Side of Chicago. Sheer chaos, destruction, and the inability to care from anyone that should except in situations where they shouldn’t. The system was ass backwards and rigged from the jump- but you made due, just like everyone else did. You just happened to do it a hell of a lot better than some; clawing and killing to become top Alpha in the dirty streets, leaving bullets and body parts in your wake without batting an eye.

The day you officially met Mickey Milkovich, you weren’t actually expecting to have a good day. Your electric had been cut off for ‘lack of payment’ in the middle of a damn heat wave, even though you had personally paid it in cash a week before it was due like you always did. Once they realized it was their (purposeful) mistake, the power company refused to come back out until the following week due to ‘lack of personnel in your neighborhood’. Which is why you found yourself, sitting on your porch, chain smoking cigarettes, when Mickey came tearing around the corner.

You could instantly smell the fear pouring out of your Omega; a classification he had obviously been hiding since he presented by the God awful stench of the suppressants that didn’t mask anything to you. Your head tilted to the side for a moment because you did recognize the man from the neighborhood, but not his scent; a mix of some kind of woods mixed with something else you couldn’t put your finger on. You whistled through your teeth and gestured behind you with a single bob of your head before grabbing your pack of cigarettes and pulling another one out. Mickey quickly vaulted over your fence and ran up the stairs past you and you couldn’t miss the way he stumbled across the threshold when he was enveloped by your scent as the door closed behind you.

“Hey… oh, shit.” One of the Alpha guys that had been chasing the Omega shouted as he rounded the corner and realized who he was talking to. “Hey guy, you seen which way that fucker went?” Without a word, you lifted your left hand and swept two fingers to the right, telling them that their target had continued on. “Thanks man.” With a single bob of your eyebrows, you took a long drag of your cigarette and picked up the ever present hand gun that was beside you.

“They’re gone.” You growled as you ashed your cigarette on the partially rotted wood steps. Your front door creeped open behind you, but you didn’t hear anyone moving to leave.

“I can’t…” He almost choked as strange waves of pheromones poured from your home. With a heavy sigh, you grabbed your smokes, and headed into the hot house.

“How long you been on those fucking suppressants, kid?” Mickey looked up at you as you shut, and locked your front door.

“Wha… what fucking suppressants?”

“The fucking suppressants that have you dropping to your Goddamn knees because you’re in your Alpha’s house, but instead of giving off the heavenly scent of pine, and cedar, which is what I fucking expect you to smell like, you smell like a chemical waste plant… here. Take these.”

“Fuck you!” He barked as he hit the bottle of stabilizer pills in the air, sending them flying across your living room. “I ain’t no fucking faggot!”

“Never fucking said you were.” You said, dismissively as you sat down on your couch, and adjusted your swelling length in your jeans. “Just trying to fucking help.”

“Yea, well I don’t need your fucking help.” You exhaled your breath and nodded as you laid your head back on the back of the couch because it was way to hot for you to do much more than that.

“Good to know.” You rolled your head and looked over at the wrecked Omega on your floor, who was desperately fighting his natural instincts as his heat started to burn out the cheap suppressants he had to have been picking up off the streets from someone other than your guys. “You can get the fuck outta my fucking house then.” Mickey almost instantly whined and balled up his jeans in his fists, but he didn’t stand up or move from the spot he was kneeling on the wood floor. Sweat began to bead on his forehead, whether from your lack of AC, or his genetics, you weren’t sure, but what you did know, was this little Alpha wannabe was going to fight his true nature. 

“Omega!” You barked, making his head whip toward you. “Come here or leave.” He shook his head and started to rock in place as he knuckles turned white. With a roll of your eye, you butt out your cigarette and got up to remove him from your home before you did something you couldn’t come back from. “Let’s go.” You growled as you grabbed him by the arm and yanked him to his feet because while he was only a couple inches shorter than you height, you had at least sixty pounds of solid muscle on him. “Move your fucking feet Milkovich, I don’t have the time or the fucking patience for this bullshit today.” He put the breaks on instantly and shook his head when you pulled your front door open the slightest bit. You could smell a slightly chemical tainted slick start to drip down his legs, so you paused for a moment to see what your next step was going to be. 

“Just…” He growled as he looked down in shame. You cocked your eyebrow, and waited for him to continue as he looked up at you through his lashes. “Don’t… make me fucking say it.”

“You can either fucking say it, or you can get the fuck out at the start of your first heat in who the fuck knows how long. I don’t fucking care either way. But one fucking way or another, you need to fucking accept the fact that you’re a Goddamn Omega and accept the fact that whether you fucking think you are or not, you’re gay or you can get thrown to the fucking wolves. I’m not fucking here for the fucking games…”

“Can you just…” He shouted as he ripped away from you but pushed your front door closed. He searched your eyes for a moment before he looked down at your nearly throbbing length. “Fuck… I need that…”

“Good choice.” You said with a smirk as you turned the lock once more and pushed him up against the wall. You gave him zero option to fight it and simply captured his lips with yours. He let out a small whine as you slid your hands down his sides to his ass. He became putty in your palms as you lifted him up, and headed up the stairs toward your second story bedroom. Mickey clawed at your back, which was currently only covered by a single wife beater, and leaned down to lick the sweat off your throat across your scent gland.

“Look at you.” You cooed as you kneeled down on the bed and laid him down on the pile of blankets you typically just pushed off you in the mornings. “Just opening up like a good little Omega.”

“Don’t…” He tried as he turned to look away. You growled and nipped his throat harshly before you, too, licked across his scent gland, purposely marking him as your own.

“You don’t make the rules here.” You growled as you sat back between his thighs and pulled off your shirt. “You’re in my fucking bed, you want my fucking knot, you play by my fucking rules, you understand me?” You could see the look of defiance on his face as you ripped open his sleeveless dress shirt, and an almost evil smirk spread across your face. “I know who you think you are, Milkovich; some hard ass, punk.” He looked up at you angrily as you undid his belt and popped the button on his jeans. “But I will promise you one thing…” You yanked his pants down and slid down the bed to his hips. “You abso-fucking-lutely will come back here again.”

“Unfffffuuuucckk….” He groaned as you easily took his length down your throat. His hips arched up for more as you pulled his jeans and boxers the rest of the way off, but you weren’t even close to ready to give him what he wanted. Your calloused hands slid up his legs until you hit his knees, which you used as leverage to bend him to prop him up for better access. You could almost hear his brain short circuit as you licked through his slick and across his puckered hole, something you could tell he had never had done before just by the way he tried desperately to reach your head to keep you there.

“You ever been taken care of like this before, Omega?” You asked as you looked up at him from between his legs. You hummed and pointed your tongue to get even deeper before replacing it with your middle finger.

“Holy fuck… oh, holy fuck.”

“Oh, I know.” You said before adding your tongue to open him up for you. Your own cock grew painfully tight in your jeans with every little whimper he made, and you reached down to remove your clothes with your non dominant hand. 

“Holy shit.” Mickey gasped when he watched your length fall free of its confines. He tightened around your finger in fear, and you quickly sat up and shook your head.

“Look at me.” You cooed as gently as you could as you continued to thrust your finger in his ass at a steady pace. “Just relax. Breathe, little Omega. Let me in. It’ll be painless, I swear, but you can’t tense up.” You wrapped your hand around his cock and brushed your thumb across the tip, which made a wave of slick seep out onto your fingers. You pulled out your middle finger and carefully switched it for your pinkie and your ring finger at the same time you bent down to lick a long stripe across his balls and up his length.

“Alpha…” He panted as you sucked him down your throat. You hummed and nodded your head as his breathing got more and more shallow and his body started to tense and quake. “Alpha, fuck! I uhnnnnn…” You hummed again and took him all the way down your throat as he came. You swallowed every drop, which was not a new concept to you since you didn’t give a shit who was in your bed at the end of the day, and sat up to look down at the wrecked man in your bed. “Fuck… me…” You smirked and started to separate your fingers to stretch him out.

“Don’t worry, baby boy. I’m not even remotely fucking close to being done with you.”

——

You were quite surprised how much stamina Mickey had, but by three AM, he was finally fucked into a coma and spread out across the bed beside you. You left him in bed and headed down stairs to roll yourself a joint, when someone started to pound on your front door. You grabbed your gun off the coffee table and cocked it before opening the front door that was thankfully lit by the streetlight on the corner.

“You better have a good fucking reason why you’re banging on my fucking door at this hour.” You glared at the thug who took a step back and jut his chin out at you.

“Sup. Heard you were the man to see about some bars?”

“Fucking heard wrong, mother fucker.” You snapped back quickly. “Suggest you fuck off now for I let the damn dogs out.”

“Hey man, it’s cool.” He said as he held up his hands. “I got the cash. I ain’t lookin’ to…” Before he could even finish, you grabbed him by the throat, and slammed him into your door frame as your mind skipped right past you getting busted by a possible rat to the Omega upstairs getting tossed in the hole by a possible rat.

“I don’t know who you fucking think you are but I don’t have any fucking idea what the fucking fuck you are going on about. You wanna give me free fucking cash, go right on ahead. But I don’t have fucking shit for you to buy unless you want some day fucking old banana bread. Now, you show up on my fucking block again and I will put a mother fucking bullet in your thick fucking skull and maybe that will get my fucking point across. Have I made myself crystal fucking clear?” He tried to choke out an answer but no sound came out. You startled when you heard the cock of your rifle behind you before the barrel appeared over your shoulder.

“He asked you a fucking question, mother fucker.” Mickey growled. “Fucking answer him.”

“Yes!” The guy choked before bursting into a fit of coughs when he fell to your porch. Mickey took a step around you, and kicked the guy down the stairs before closing the door and heading into the living room.

“Smokes?”

“Well look who’s still capable of walking.” You teased as you picked up a half full pack from the table and tossed it at him.

“Fuck you.”

“I did.” You reminded him as you grabbed a hollowed out Bible off your book shelf and flipped on a battery powered lantern.

“Yea, one desperate time.”

“Why do you fucking hate yourself so damn much?” You glanced over at him as he shook his head and scoffed. “Fucking Christ, someone did a real fucking number on you.”

“No one did a fucking number on me…”

“Whatever you say, sweetheart.”

“Don’t fucking call me that!” You reacted without thinking and pinned him down to the couch before he could even register you moved. He naturally arched into you and let out a barely audible whine, and you nodded your head.

“Yea.” You said with a nod as you sat up again and went back to rolling a joint. “Front doors unlocked. You wanna keep acting like a mother fucking homophobe, you can get the fuck out. Good luck on dealing with your mixed identity crisis and double up on your shit suppressants to kill your heat.” He managed to catch you off guard when he punched you in the jaw, but he quickly backed away from you when you pointed your hand gun at his cock. “Wanna try that again?”

“Fuck you!” He snapped as he turned and stormed out of your house. You sighed and shook your head as you set your gun back down and finished rolling your joint. Once you had sparked it up, you got up with a heavy sigh, locked up, and headed up to bed for the night.

Part 2

[octoberobserver]

Reddie 7, 8, 10.

Hey Nonnie! Thanks for the ask :D

Reddie Boys:

7) Which is the worse driver - Richie. I mean, he’s gay and he can’t–no jk, lol. But seriously, despite his chronic case of Road Rage™ and crashing his car that time Mike called him, Eddie is a fantastic driver. The amount of shit he has dealt with driving in New York for over a decade, made him vigilant as hell and able to maneuver any hazard (and jackass that got his licence from a cereal box) like nobody’s business.

Richie on the other hand, has been coasting down L.A. with absolutely no regard for the rules of the road for years, but in a less…tactical way than Eddie. He’s just…bad with navigating and driving at the same time. Google Maps is a lying liar who lies and he can’t be held accountable for taking wrong turns and being stuck on the freeway for an extra 45 minutes, okay? Not his fault that he underestimated the amount of time he’d need and like…traffic and shit. He’s never been in a serious accident, or anything, a few fender-benders here and there, but still. His focus while driving can be a little…lacking. There’s interesting shit happening down Sunset Boulevard, you know? He likes to people watch for his show and sometimes forgets that he’s operating heavy machinery at the time. That and he loves to chug coffee and switch stations on the radio while steering with his knees. Why else would he had been made so tall if his legs are not there as extensions of his hands?!

8) What do they argue about? - What don’t they argue about, more like. Arguing is basically their love-language. Always has been. But it’s always over stupid shit and nearly always their very own brand of foreplay. ‘No Richie, we are abso-fucking-lutely not calling our dog, Penny, okay? I don’t care about how cool ‘Penny the pom’ sounds. No fucking way!’ ‘Christ, Eds, calm down. It was just a joke about how fuckin’ dumb I was at thirteen, okay? Everyone loves a bit of Trashmouth self-deprecation.’ 

That’s not to say that they haven’t had serious fights, though. Just two over the course of their relationship. And both were in instances where their safety was at play. The first, just after Eddie’s…injury…when he was recovering, newly-separated and newly-moved-in-to-Richie’s-condo. He had pushed himself too far, had passed out on the living room floor when Richie was out buying groceries. Richie had come back, twenty-five minutes later to see him sprawled out and unresponsive and freaked the fuck out. ‘What the fuck were you thinking, you idiot?! Are you trying to die again?! Because I...I can’t handle that, Eds. I can’t. Please. I don’t...I don’t wanna sound like Sonia or Myra, I really don’t but...please, be more careful. You’re strong, you’re so strong. But you’re not infallible.’ 

The second was when Richie mouthed off to the wrong person after one of his gigs. Eddie was used to Trashmouth’s brand of pissing people off but…he just didn’t stop. He kept going and kept going and…ended up in the hospital. He didn’t mean to victim-blame, he really didn’t. He was just so fucking scared. When he saw that giant asshole pick up the bottle and clock Richie over the head with it - his heart stopped. ‘What the fuck, Richie?! You just couldn’t let it go, could you? He didn’t even really insult me, for God’s sake. But no. You had to just keep pushing and pushing. He was a fucking giant! Are you trying to get yourself killed, Trashmouth?! I don’t need you to fight my corner for me, asshole. Especially if it means you getting your ass handed to you! He could have fucking killed you and where...where would we be then? What...what would I do? You scared the shit outta me.’

They made up almost instantly both times. After long, long discussions about who they are and what they mean to each other.

10) What TV shows do they watch together, and which ones do they hide from each other - I’ve answered this here. 

[sherlollydramoine]

Here’s just a quick preview of some stuff...

The last day I’ve felt somewhat inspired to write. I have a few different pieces that I’m working on right now. Thought I’d give you all a little preview of the currently unedited pieces I’m working on. These are NOT all of my WIP’s, but just a small handful. Keep in mind all of these are unedited, and mostly in the rough draft phase of writing. I hope this gives you all some hope that I will be back. I have a few ideas for a few other fics as well. The ideas keep flowing but I just can’t write them fast enough. If any of you other Rami/Rami character writers would like some ideas, I have several that I’m willing to give away if you need some inspiration or ideas.

Again these are just previews, some of them are little snippets, some are a good little chunk of each WIP. Please enjoy! :) Be sure to give me feedback on anything that you want to see, and as always even though I’m a little slow moving... my ask box is ALWAYS open for requests. Please, start submitting requests through my ask box and not through messages because they get lost. Thank you all! Love you! :)

WARNINGS: Most of these contain language, some are just pure angst, some are just fluffy and cute, referenced or outright drug use, unprotected sex (y’all for reals.. wrap it before you tap it), dom/sub sexual themes, and some are the beginnings of just plain smut, 18+ only. Please, if you are under 18, DO NOT read this content.

1 BoRhap boys piece:

“So basically lads, she’s not getting out of bed unless we make her.” Gwil adds from his position by the window. He gets a devious smirk on his face before he pulls open the curtains with a yank of the chain, causing you to yelp, and everyone else to  start laughing. Suddenly you find the bed being invaded by three very male bodies as each one settles on a different side of you. Joe on your left, Rami on your right, and Gwil at your feet; wearing matching devious smiles. Without warning you find your body being forcibly lifted off the bed and carried out into the communal area of the shared suite before being unceremoniously dumped onto the sofa.

Shooting death glares at all three men you speak up, “I’m outta bed, someone give me coffee now or I’m gonna tell the press that Joe and Ben had an affair and that Rami and Gwil non-platonically share a bed every night.”

Gasps could be heard followed shortly by the full on dramatics of three trained actors as Gwil pretended to be somehow mortally wounded, Rami just threw himself on the opposite sofa while dramatically sighing and throwing his arm over his face as if he had fainted, and Joe decided to dramatically yelp out “Y/N how could you? I thought that was our little secret.”

2 A Tasty Snack piece:

You can't ever help yourself when it comes to Rami. He's just so beautiful and playful that he makes you laugh just as often as he makes you horny. 

One afternoon on a lazy day, you were both lounging by the pool, him munching away on his Red Vines, you laying on your back on one of the lounge chairs. You feel his eyes on you and you can't help but to turn your head toward him. 

With a brow arched you casually ask him what has caught his attention. 

"I want to eat you out. I want you on your back, legs spread, and my face between those beautiful thighs." he dead pans, as he loudly continues chewing his red licorice. 

Taken aback by his casual response, you smirk to yourself. 

"Is that right sir?" you ask as you stand.

 "You want to taste my pussy?" you question as you begin to slide your bathing suit down your legs. 

You feel his eyes on you, his body never moving from the spot he had earlier claimed. 

"Because I want to feel your hot mouth on me. If you're hungry, come and get."

3 A random piece with 2 OC characters

“Fine then, why the hell don’t we play the compliments game? You guys remember how it works right? I think I’ll make this easy for everyone. Rami you compliment Lily and then I guess that means that Joe can compliment me. Once the guys have gone, the girls will compliment the guys back. I think that’s the best way to start the game. Yes, that’s the rules. I think those are good rules?! Does everyone understand because I am looking at a gaggle of confused faces?” Rose suggested, with a shrug of her shoulders.

“Okay, I’ll go first.” Rami volunteer with a smile while openly staring at Lily.

Rose and Joe share a conspiratorial smile with each other before leaning back in their seats.

“This outta be good.” Joe giggles before Rose kicks him in the shin.

“Joe stop. This is the compliments game not the how to be an asshole game.” Lily scolds while Joe rubs his sore shin. 

4 Your Fantasy, My Game - a role-play with Rami in character as Snafu & Joe as Sledge. This is getting hot!! 

As you kicked your front door behind you, you balanced your work bag and a small bag of groceries. Setting your keys on the hook by the door and bags on the ground, you sighed, relieved. You wanted nothing more than to curl up with the one man who had been occupying your mind all day, so you called out,

"Babe, I'm home!" 

An eerie silence followed, as did a familiar smell.  It only took a second to discern what it was - cigarette smoke. Brows furrowed, you walked cautiously toward its source. It was unlike Rami to smoke sober, and inside - what on earth would possess him? 

Any further questions vanished the moment you stepped foot in your living room. A thin cloud of smoke parted slowly, almost cinematically to reveal a sight so thigh clenchingly appealing, you did just that - clenched them, hard. 

Sitting on the couch was your husband Rami and his friend and sometimes guest star of your wet dreams, Joe. Both were shirtless, wearing nothing but marine green pants, boots and dog tags, loosely hanging from their necks. 

A series of incoherent noises escaped you, you didn't know what to think, or say.

"Hey uhh...What are you? Oh Man is this - Babe?" you stuttered out, anticipation growing as you realised that your husband decided to make your fantasy a reality.

Rami simply smirked, nudging Joe as he scoffed,

"Naw, look at dat. Baby girl is already a mess boo, and we ain't even touched her." 

It was with a thick Cajun accent he spoke, his dark eyes piercing yours. Undeniably wet and suddenly flustered, you coughed into your clenched fist, your other hand flailing about before resting on your hip.

 With a practiced carelessness, Rami smiled, before lazily directing his attention to Joe beside him.  

"Whad'ya say Sledge?" He quirked a brow.  "Ya ready for a taste? I promise she's a-b-s-o-lutely delicious."

Joe gulped, head turning and eyes locking with yours. He gave you a once over, eyes raking up and down your worn out office attire as his pale cheeks began heating up. The only response he could muster was a nervous giggle and lip bite that made your stomach flutter. 

You couldn't believe the sight before you. 

It was then Rami - no - Snafu spoke again,

"Baby girl, I want ya to take Sledge to the bedroom. I'll be there in a minute. An’ Sledge, don't be scared to touch her. She loves it."

Both of you nod, fully aware of who is in charge of this whole thing. 

5 All The Things He Said - a modern AU Snafu piece

With tears falling freely, you were able to muster up the courage to tell him the news. It had taken you several weeks to even be brave enough to call him to inform him that you wanted to talk. You were sick to your stomach with nerves and morning sickness; wanting nothing more than to run away somewhere and never return. But you couldn’t, you had to face your demons head on, and tell him the news you weren't expecting to go over very well given the volatile nature of your complicated relationship, or rather un-relationship, at this point.

“You wanted to talk Y/N. So fucking talk.” Merriell snapped at you, eyes narrowing in suspicion.

“Merriell, I’m pregnant.” you stated with your arms folded across your chest, and 

He just stares at you with an unreadable expression for far longer than was comfortable, before he decides to open his mouth and speak. Of course, because it’s him, it had to be the worst possible thing that anyone could ever say in that moment.

"Well, is it mine?" those piercing green eyes staring at you, accusatory. 

"I swear to God Merriell, I ought to punch you in your beautiful fucking mouth. Just because you can't keep it in your pants, doesn't mean that I cheated. Jesus. Fuck. Seriously? I gave you way to many years of my life, you piece of shit, and that, that is the first thing you could think to say?! Fuck. Really? Seriously? I really, fucking hate you! You know what, fuck you asshole, I'll make an appointment at the clinic first thing in the morning so that way we wont have to deal with this. How about that? "

His eyes cast downward in shame, the slightest tinge of red to his olive complexion, as he shifted uncomfortably where he was leaning against the wall. 

" I'm sorry. Y/N, please, please, don't kill our baby. I love you." 

You couldn't help but scoff at his statement. All of the anger rage that you’d been holding in for way to long is bubbling its way to the surface, and you can’t help the venom that came flying out of  your mouth.

"Oh you fucking love me? Ha!!! Years of me putting up with your drunken shenanigans, constant infidelity, and all of the gaslighting? You think that’s love? Jesus fucking Christ, Merriell, were you dropped on your fucking head as a baby? The never ending fighting, cheating, and lies that made up the foundation of our relationship, that’s love to you? Hahahaha! You wouldn’t know what love was if it hit you in the face asshole. You know what the saddest part about that fucked up statement coming from you is?”

@xmxisxforxmaybe @txmel @itsme690 @free-rami @mezzomercury @mrhoemazzello @lablanchett @rami-malek-trash @ramimedley

[gore-hovnd]

Don’t Breathe: Part Two

As per request of @hydra-trash-spot

Warning For: Toxic/Controlling Relationship, Emotional/Physical Abuse

(Also, side note, I’m literally incapable of proofreading unless things are in post format so please excuse my typos pff)

(Side Note pt 2, electric boogaloo; I edited it and now it’s not as BAD. Idk if this is gonna retag but if it does I’m SORRY, bc I’m awful and I’ve been fixing the formatting smh)

Sweat droplets rolled between his shoulders in a way that made his skin crawl as he shifted in his seat. Staring blankly at the paperwork in his hand, Jack began to read the paragraph at the top of the page for the fifth time. 

Of course there was maintenance happening on the building’s AC unit, of course today was the hottest day of the week, and of course Brock felt the need fuck him over in more ways than one by not letting him call off work for that day. When he looked at it from Brock’s standpoint as a commander, Jack understood why. The STRIKE team had an urgent mission come up, they would be leaving for it in three days, and they needed everyone to be ready. But when he looked at it from Brock’s standpoint as his boyfriend, Jack knew it was just Brock being the biggest dick imaginable at that point. It hadn’t been enough to drag him around the house in a dog collar that left dark, saturated bruises in its wake and made speaking a chore. It wasn’t enough to humiliate him by claiming that the bruising across Jack’s nose and beneath is eyes was from him coming into unfortunate contact with the shower rod the night before. And it wasn’t enough to make Jack come to work in a heavy jacket, zipped all the way up, in ninety degree weather to hide the bruises over his throat. Because nothing was ever enough and despite trying to stay out of Brock’s line of sight all day, Jack knew he’d always be Brock’s primary target.

“I need you to pick up training with Cap today.” Brock stated plainly while JAck shared a lunch that only one of them ate. 

Jack recoiled, looking up from the slowly cooling chicken pasta in front of him. He’d only gotten three bites in before he decided that it hurt too much to swallow. 

“Why?” Jack grumbled, his voice low and weak from both the abuse to his vocal cords as well as disuse. He hadn’t said a word to Brock all day, the anger in him once again rising, bashing against the cage of his resolve like a wild beast trying to break free. 

“‘Cause Pierce called me about havin’ another meeting this morning. I don’t got a choice here, Jackie, I already told the big guy you’d be there.” Brock explained as he scrolled through his emails at his computer. 

“Why not jus’ fuckn’ reschedule.” Jack grumbled under his breath, rising from his seat and throwing his lunch into the bin by Brock’s desk with more force than necessary. The combination of the action and his attitude had Brock looking up from his work, staring at Jack with an irritated look despite the upward turn of his lip. 

“What was that, mouth?” He asked and Jack hesitated for a second. He could challenge it, could try to put Brock in his place, but the lingering threat of the previous night’s events bred an unfamiliar fear in his chest and he pulled his gaze away. 

“Nothin’.” He mumbled, shoving his hands in his jacket pockets before making his escape. 

***

Jack sat in the gym for twenty minutes waiting for Steve. 

And in that twenty minutes he contemplated what the hell had just happened. He’d never been afraid of Brock before. Upset? Yes. Wary? Of course. Angry? Abso-fucking-lutely, but afraid? Never. And whatever was causing that fear to fester in his chest was making him sick. 

The doors to the gym opened and Jack broke from his thoughts, staring up to meet the bright, happy smile on Steve’s face that oh-so-awfully contrasted from his own bitter mood in a way that was borderline annoying. 

“Been a while,” Steve chuckled, offering his hand to help Jack get up from his place on the floor. He took it, pulling himself up and suppressing a hiss of pain as his body ached. That brief tumble down the stairs last night must’ve taken more out of him that he originally thought. 

As the two of them readied themselves; stretching, wrapping their hands, and ultimately building dread in Jack’s stomach, he couldn’t help but lose himself again. 

“Are you gonna wear that the whole time?” Steve piped up, pulling Jack back to reality for the third time in the past hour. 

“What?” He asked, forcing his shoulder to stretch despite the strain of his muscle. 

“That jacket.” Steve elaborated, gesturing at him to emphasize. 

Jack glanced down at it, somehow momentarily forgetting he had it on, before shrugging with a nod. 

“Yeah.” 

That was all he chose to say before the two of them stepped into the ring. There he stood: in a jacket, white basketball shorts, and black athletic ankle supports, staring at Steve who wore something similar, just with a tank top instead. 

The two of them sparred for a bit and from the very beginning, Jack knew it wasn’t going to end well for him. The soreness that blanketed him only seemed to get heavier the longer he tried to force his body to move. It slowed his reactions, made it impossible to keep up with the living god that was Steve Rogers. Jack didn’t think he could take goddamn Captain America down even on a good day so trying to on a day where all of his muscles were simultaneously on fire definitely wasn’t going to work in his favor. 

And try as he might, one particularly well timed hit to his ribs had him on the floor. When he looked at the clock, he’d found that they’d been at it for a solid forty-five minutes and Jack was almost impressed with himself. That is until Steve fussed over him like a damn mother hen. 

“Shit, Rollins are you alright?” Steve asked, dropping to his knees to seemingly try and get a closer look at Jack who, in turn, waved him off as he spit his mouthguard out onto the floor. 

“M’ fine,” Jack wheezed unconvincingly as he pushed himself up with one arm, the other wrapped securely around his chest. Steve didn’t seem convinced, deciding to go for the jacket which had Jack pulling away reflexively. 

Steve paused, staring at him for a moment before he pulled the collar of the jacket down and all Jack could do was look up to avoid seeing the concerned look on Steve’s face. He let Steve unzip the jacket and pull it from his shoulders, getting a closer look. Even the gentle grazes of Steve’s fingers over the bruises on his neck had him flinching, less from actually feeling any pain and more from expecting it. What the hell had Brock done to him? And to think, for a few delusional hours, he thought he was lucky to have that man. 

“What happened to you?” Steve asked but Jack didn’t answer, responding by shrugging the jacket back over his shoulders and forcing himself to stand despite how much his body protested. “Did someone try to kill you?” 

For a single, cursory moment, Jack paused while his brain took time to do a hard reset. The suggestion felt so ridiculous that he wasn’t sure what else to do but play along with it. So he shrugged and watched as Steve shook his head in disbelief. 

“Did you file a report?” He asked and Jack released a bitter laugh. 

“What? Hell no.” He snorted. He knew that Steve’s mind was somewhere else entirely but he couldn’t help imagining what it would be like trying to file a report against Brock. He’d be killed, likely. Pierce already hated their relationship, said it was a “conflict of interest.” Jack thought it was asinine at first but now he was beginning to think Pierce, slimy bastard that he was, was right. 

“You need to, this is important!” Steve demanded. Jack wasn’t entirely sure how he was supposed to react and instead just shrugged it off with a quiet ‘s’ fine.’ only to earn himself a frustrated sigh from Steve. 

“It’s not fine, it’s dangerous! You know what we do, it’s...our line of work isn’t exactly a forgiving one.” Steve huffed. ‘Tell me about it,’ Jack’s thoughts chimed as he shook his head, staring at Steve with a tired look. 

“I gotta get back to work. STRIKE team ships out in three days, be ready.” His voice was monotonous and bland as he turned to head back toward the locker rooms. That’s when Steve grabbed his arm and a rush of adrenaline tore through his body with the force of a fire hose as he turned to throw a punch that Steve quickly dodged, releasing him in the process. Jack didn’t know when he started trembling but now that he noticed, he couldn’t calm his nerves. The sad look that Steve gave him did nothing more than ignite an angry fire within him and suddenly, he was overwhelmed with the feeling that he wanted to fight again. 

“You don’t have to do this alone, I can help you.” Steve offered, taking a step forward and offering a gentle hand, only to have Jack grab hold of his wrist with an unnecessarily intense grip. 

“Ever stop to think I don’t need your fuckin’ help, Rogers?” Jack growled. “Ever stop to think I might just need your head outta’ my ass?” 

With a grimace, Jack shoved Steve back and turned without a second thought, zipping his jacket up as he retreated to lick at the wounds rubbed raw by Steve’s pity. 

***

Going through a week long mission with Steve, while simultaneously trying to hide the bruises Brock gave him, had been absolute hell. So it was understandable that all Jack wanted to do when he got home was sleep. Unfortunately for him, all Brock wanted to do was fuck. 

“I’m serious, no.” Jack growled, pushing Brock’s hand from his hip only for that same imposing hand to latch right back on. 

“Oh, c’mon, Jackie, I need you inside me.” Brock purred, licking at Jack’s throat. By then, the bruises had become a sickly yellow and were faint enough for Jack to stop wearing hoodies and jackets to hide them. The rest of his body healed accordingly and things could go back to being relatively normal, something Jack wasn’t sure if he wanted. Because Brock made him hate normal. 

“I said I don’t want to.” Jack said more firmly this time, finally managing to shove Brock back on his haunches. Pushing himself up on his elbows, Jack held Brock’s glare before his commander finally scoffed and stood up from their bed with a huff. 

“You know, you seriously make me wanna fuckin’ hit you sometimes.” Brock growled as he left the room, undoubtedly planning to sleep on the couch. He always slept on the couch when he was sick of looking at Jack, when seeing Jack made him angry. He knew this, he knew Brock got mad when he said no, knew that Brock didn’t like it when he refused anything, especially sex, and knew that Brock wanted to hurt him because of it. But Brock had never actually said it aloud before. And for whatever reason, actually hearing it was unsettling. 

He didn’t sleep well that night and when he woke up the next morning, he found that Brock had seemingly dropped the entire thing. He was bad about that, about ignoring any sort of argument they had, but Jack didn’t really have any other choice but to deal with it. 

Over time, Brock got worse. Just as he always had. After a while his threats stopped being threats and he stopped warning Jack all together. Sometimes Jack could anticipate it but most of the time, it felt entirely random. Brock would smack him in the back of his head, shove him around, punch him, even, if he was in a particularly bad mood. And Jack was at a loss. 

There was a war waged in Jack’s mind, his emotions tumbling between hating Brock and adoring him. Brock was a terrible man; he was violent and volatile and fear had become a familiar friend to Jack in the months that had passed since the choke chain incident. But every few days, he would be gentle and kind and he’d make Jack feel like nothing short of a god. And for those few, fleeting hours, Jack was on cloud nine. 

But the good times never seem to last and eventually he was sick of making up excuses to stay. 

“Come on, Jack, yer gonna leave over that? Over a love tap?” Brock growled as he followed Jack through their home. 

“Does it matter?” Jack grumbled, shoving some of his clothes into an old backpack. “I’m a grown man, I can leave if I want to.” 

This response, however, wasn’t good enough. Brock’s hand was almost instantly around his arm and Jack recoiled, throwing his elbow back and landing a hit across Brock’s mouth, effectively bloodying his lip. 

“Sonuva-” Brock barked, staggering back when Jack landed another hit on his face. Spitting a mixture of blood and spit out onto the dark carpet, Brock wiped a hand across his chin before glaring at Jack, who was frozen. Multiple thoughts raced through his mind in that moment and somehow he was both proud of and angry with himself. But both of those were overshadowed by the terror that crashed through him like a startling rush of electricity when Brock advanced on him. 

The two of them fumbled around for awhile, battering and bruising each other until eventually, Brock got his hands around the back of Jack’s head pulled, bringing his knee up to collide with Jack’s nose. 

A sickening crunch filled the air and the two of them paused as Jack covered his face, panting while he tried to gather himself. Sitting down on their bed, leaving a bloody handprint on their white comforter, Jack tried to sniff but he couldn’t. Blood dripped down his mouth the same way it had months prior when Brock had pulled him off of the couch and all he could do was wonder to himself why he was stupid enough to stay so long. 

“Let’s go.” Brock growled under his breath, taking hold of Jack’s bicep and forcing him to stand like he was a child. Jack shrugged him off, even going so far as to shove him away, before the two of them trudged out to their car. 

The ride to the hospital was silent and when they got there, Jack refused to explain how it happened. It wasn’t that he was trying to protect Brock, he was just so exhausted… He didn’t have the energy to make up excuses or answer any questions. 

Luckily, it only took fifteen minutes for a doctor to be made available for him. Unluckily, Brock followed him back into the room. And as if his broken nose wasn’t punishment enough, Brock continued to berate him. 

“You jus’ dunno when to quit do you?” Brock growled, his arms crossed over his chest. His lip was swollen, the gash that ran through it shining angry and red. Drops of blood stained the collar of his grey shirt and in that moment the two of them stared at each other with equally intense looks of pure hatred. 

“What?” Jack snapped, trying desperately to convince himself that Brock wasn’t worth a trip to prison. 

“You don’t know how to fuckin’ quit, Jack! You always do this! You piss me off, then gimme that pissy little look when I get mad! This shit wouldn’t happen if you didn’t get me so fucking riled up!” Brock barked and all Jack could do was laugh incredulously, disbelief filling him as he stared Brock in the eye. 

“No, this shit wouldn’t happen if you weren’t such a fucking psychopath.” Jack hissed and just like that, Brock was on him again. First, there was a knee to his ribs, then a fist under his jaw, but Jack wasn’t going to lay down and let Brock beat on him anymore. He’d finally decided that everything Brock did to him was complete and utter bullshit. It wasn’t warranted and he wasn’t ungrateful when he got upset about it. And for the love of God, he didn’t fucking deserve it.

So he fought back. He kicked and he growled and he fought with everything he had. Landed a few good hits too. At some point, the doctor must’ve come in to the two of them fighting and called security. They pried Brock off of Jack, his eye swollen shut and his lip re-busted-open. Jack grimaced, wanting nothing more than to pounce on him while he was restrained. But the security guards were too quick to get him out of the room.

The doctor didn’t ask Jack any questions, simply got him cleaned up, reset his nose, and offered him a phone to call someone. Jack accepted the offer with a grateful, albeit quiet, ‘thank you.’ And he sat for an hour contemplating whether or not he should do what he wanted to do. He didn’t really have much of a choice, though, did he?

“Hello?” Answered Steve’s familiar voice over the other line. 

“If I ask you to come pick me up from the hospital will you promise not to ask questions?” Jack asked. He never was good at easing into a conversation. 

“The hospital? What happened? Are you hurt?” Steve immediately started and all Jack could do was sigh and weigh what options he would have if he decided to hang up. 

“Steve, please.” He begged quietly. He wasn’t proud of the pleading tone in his voice but he couldn’t take it back. Couldn’t hide it. Not anymore.

Steve didn’t say anything for a long time. The quiet that fell over them was the kind that was deafening and suffocating at the same time and he wanted nothing more than to scream just to fill the space. But before he could, Steve started talking again. 

“I’ll be there.” He said softly. 

And he was. In twenty minutes, Steve was at the hospital and the second he saw Jack, it looked like his entire world had been crushed. An odd look of knowing crossed his face as he flicked his head and without a second thought, Jack followed.

After another wordless car ride, Jack found himself in a new place. The unfamiliar space of Steve’s apartment left him feeling vulnerable and exposed, like a rabbit in a field of rabid dogs. But Steve’s gentle hand guided him and it sickened him that his mind was already waiting for that softness to be replaced with anger and pain. But nothing happened and Jack scolded himself for thinking something would. 

They sat on the couch with the same silence that had hovered over them on the phone weighing tension on their shoulders and Jack once again felt the urge to make noise so it wouldn’t feel so heavy on his chest. But just as before, Steve came to the rescue to fill the silence before Jack had to. 

“I guess this is how Bucky always felt when he saw me all beat up.” Steve tried to chuckle and Jack couldn’t help the little snort that left him. 

“Guess so.” Jack grunted in response, sighing as he refused to meet Steve’s eye. It was then that an arm slowly wrapped around him and with cautious curiosity, Jack let it happen, willing himself not to flinch. He half expected other advances to be made but nothing ever came, and he liked it that way. 

Steve turned the T.V. on and for a while, Jack zoned out while late night sitcoms flashed on screen with mediocre, cheesy jokes filling the quiet with a comfortable drone. And eventually, as Jack grew too tired to ignore the exhaustion any longer, he rested his head on Steve’s shoulder and found a relieving sense of peace when Steve leaned on him too. 

And for the first time since he’d met Brock fucking Rumlow, he felt safe.

[mycroft-silently-judges-you]

Exactly How Many Dead Bodies Are on This Show!!?

With the reveal that Boomer is still alive, we are left with a lot of questions regarding his disappearance and exactly whose body our favorite ladies have. How Boomer survived his fate is probably the easiest question out of the bunch to answer so let’s get that out of the way right quick:

There’s a witness.

When Mary Pat ran over - and presumably killed - Boomer, we were shown her reaction as well as that of her kids, but no outside perspective. It’s likely that one of her neighbors came outside in their PJs, coffee cup in hand, just wanting to pick up the morning paper, and watched her run over Boomer with their own two sleep-crusted eyeballs. 911 was called, Boomer was taken to the hospital, and she likely gave the police her story; that he’s a gross rapist and she ran him over in defense because he was trying to get in the car. However, we also know Agent Turner isn’t above playing dirty. He may be threatening to charge her with attempted murder if she doesn’t cooperate with his investigation into Beth. Hence, the situation we’re in: Mary Pat spilling her guts to Turner and Boomer in protective services since he is still the key witness in Rio’s case.

So, whose body did Mary Pat have the ladies dispose of?

It’s likely that of her late husband, Jeff. Now, a bit of retconning may be taking place here since she’s pretty open with the fact in S1 that her husband is dead, having supposedly dropped dead while playing with water guns in the front yard with their kids. If he is dead because she killed him, she shouldn’t exactly be going around telling everyone he’s dead unless she’s a moron which she is very much NOT. The smart thing to do is claim he abandoned the family or ran off with a girlfriend so suspicion doesn’t start to fall on her, but whatever. These are a few scenarios I can picture working best with what we know:

She poisoned him and in order to keep him from being examined, she cut up his body and put it in his hunting freezer. She joined the church AFTER her husbands death, either as a front to look remorseful or because of actual remorse. When the police started looking into her for running over Boomer, she knew she needed to get the body outta there and hatched a scheme to get our ladies to dispose of him.

All the above happened, but instead of joining the church after his death, she lied to their fellow churchgoers that she held a private funeral and that’s why no one was in attendance.

The house we see her in is what she moved into AFTER her husband’s death because it’s all she can afford now. She moved in order to escape suspicion after having spun a tale to those they knew where they used to live.

The story she told Boomer was complete BS and she killed Jeff in a much more gruesome manner. The aftermath in scenarios 1 and 3 both work here as well.

She killed Jeff and stored his body in the freezer, but disposed of him at some point. She then killed another boyfriend for whatever reason and THAT’S the body Beth and the gang got rid of. Mary Pat is basically some kind of black widow at this point.

Jeff or not Jeff is the body Rio has and has been sending parts of to Beth. Does he know it’s not Boomer? Abso-fuckin’-lutely. He knew when Boomer had been taken into protective custody the first time and he likely knows about it now. So, why play along and let Beth think he’s dead? Because it’s something to hold over her. He knows she’s more likely to color within the lines if she thinks he has a body that could led to her getting charged with murder. Is Rio pissed that Boomer is still alive?? Probably, but with no way to locate him, there’s not much he can do for now.

Which leaves us with one more big question: who the fuck is buried in Beth’s backyard?? It sure as hell isn’t Jeff (they could have given the actor a hairpiece, since he’s balding and doesn’t have longish hair, but I doubt it. I also doubt Rio is dumb enough to put his leverage right under the ladies’ noses. ALSO, the garbage bag and tape were not the same as the ones on that of the body the ladies disposed of). We now know it’s not Boomer. 

So, who is it??

My money is that they are either the victim of another gang, which could lead to some kind of gang war in season three, or it is somehow connected to the Mattress King (x) a character we are getting introduced to in the finale. With 2x13 titled King, we’ve been assuming the king in question is Rio, but what if it’s not?? Perhaps there’s someone out there bigger and badder than Rio and this is how we are getting introduced to him, by way of the bodies he leaves behind.

[thelastspeecher]

After the Farmer’s Market

Okay, so, a while back, @mythomagically-delicious wrote this AMAZING fic called Farmer’s Market, which took place in a variation of my Superhero/villain AU.  Specifically, a variation in which Stan decides to join the McGucket family in being a villain.  And I randomly got inspired, as I am wont to do, and ended up writing a continuation to it.  So....here it is.  Enjoy.

              Fiddleford hung up the phone.

              “That was my folks.  They got home safe,” he said to Ford and Stan.  Stan nodded.

              “Yeah, makes sense,” Stan said.  “I mean, not a lotta people would mess with three villains.”  Ford’s eyes widened to the size of dinner plates.  He punched Stan in the upper arm.

              “Stanley!” Ford hissed.  Fiddleford eyed Stan and Ford, clearly trying to decide how to respond.  “Fiddleford, I’m so sorry for that.  I’m, um, I’m sure your family is lovely when- when they haven’t been robbed by my twin brother.”  Ford frowned at Stan.  “And I’m equally sure that they aren’t villains.”  Stan rolled his eyes.

              “Ford, you didn’t go to lunch with them.  You shoulda heard ‘em talking.  It was insane.  They’re definitely villains.  Back me up, Fiddlesticks.”  Fiddleford played with the phone cord silently.  “Come on, man.  They’re villains, right?”

              “That depends,” Fiddleford said softly.  Stan and Ford exchanged a small look.

              “…on what?” Ford asked.  Fiddleford took a deep breath.

              “Whether my answer will leave this room or not.”

              “You can trust me,” Ford said.

              “Yeah, I don’t really have much to gain from selling out your family,” Stan said after a moment.  Fiddleford let out a dry chuckle.

              “I ‘ppreciate the honesty.  Well, in that case…the fam’ly members ya met today ain’t currently villains.  Basstian dabbled a bit in college but dropped it to focus on his studies, Pa retired when my older sister was born, and Ma retired when my lil siblin’s were about three.  But my ma ‘n pa were terrors in their time.”

              “Who were they?” Ford asked curiously.  Fiddleford took a deep breath.  “If you’re not comfortable-”

              “Would we have heard of ‘em?” Stan interrupted.  Fiddleford shrugged.

              “I don’t rightly know.  Ma had herself quite a reputation, but she wasn’t one of them big names.  Pa, he didn’t do much, so it wasn’t too difficult of a choice fer him to give it up.”  Fiddleford grimaced.  “I ain’t sayin’ what they went by.  I’ve already said a bit more ‘n I should’ve.”

              “What if I took your folks up on their offer?” Stan asked.  A small smile creeped across Fiddleford’s face.

              “If that were the case, I’d be willin’ to share some more information.”

              “What offer?” Ford asked, looking back and forth between Fiddleford and Stan. Stan leaned forward, the somewhat dingey couch he and Ford were sitting on creaking in protest.

              “None of your business, Sixer.  Fiddlesticks, can your family really…put me in the game?”

              “Yes.”

              “Even if they’re retired?”

              “They’re retired from actively punchin’ heroes and holdin’ folks hostage, not retired from every aspect of villainy.  And even if they were, I’ve got active siblin’s out West what can always use an extra hand on their crew.”

              “Hang on,” Ford interjected.  He stared at Stan.  “Stanley, are- are you really trying to get in on the ground floor of villainy?” Stan shrugged.  “What would Mom think?”

              “I don’t care what Mom thinks,” Stan snapped.  “She didn’t care about me enough to track me down.  Neither did you, by the way.”

              “Stan-”

              “I’ve already got a rap sheet.  I’ve used my powers for some of the things on it.  I’m halfway to being a villain anyways.”  Stan frowned.  “Only problem might be Mom.”

              “I thought you said you don’t care what she thinks,” Ford said snidely. Stan shoved him.

              “I don’t.  But villains might care about who she is.”

              “What, is she a police officer?  We don’t mind that sort of stuff,” Fiddleford said breezily.  Stan and Ford shook their heads in unison.

              “She’s a retired hero,” Ford answered.  Fiddleford winced.

              “That ain’t ideal.”  Fiddleford joined the twins on the couch, sitting on the other side of Stan.  “But it don’t have to be a deal-breaker.  What was her code name?”

              “I don’t know if-” Ford started.

              “Libra,” Stan said.  Fiddleford paled.  “Is it really that bad?”

              “Sweet sarsaparilla, it- it is.”  Fiddleford took a deep breath.  “I have a duty to pass on this information to my parents.  And I hate to break it to ya, but they might rescind their offer to help ya find a villainous crew.”

              “Just ‘cause my mom used to be Libra?” Stan asked.  “I haven’t even talked to her in years!  What’s the big deal?”

              “My ma went by the code name Sirocco,” Fiddleford said quietly.  Stan and Ford both stared.

              “Sirocco?  The- the aerokinetic villainess?” Ford asked.  “Regularly butted heads with- with Libra?”  Fiddleford nodded.

              “Oh, shit,” Stan whispered.  He put his head in his hands.  “Your mom and my mom were archenemies.  Dammit. There’s one of my few options down the drain.”

              “I think you have more options than resorting to villainy,” Ford interjected. Fiddleford peered around Stan to raise an eyebrow at Ford.

              “We don’t all choose villainy ‘cause it’s a ‘last resort’,” Fiddleford said. “Some of us do it out of passion fer the field.”

              “I’m starting to get rather uncomfortable with how you keep referring to yourself as a villain,” Ford said.  “You aren’t actively committing crimes while we live under the same roof, are you?”

              “I know how to cover my tracks,” Fiddleford said dismissively.  Ford steepled his fingers.

              “That doesn’t answer my question.”

              “I don’t want to answer yer question.”

              “Fantastic,” Ford muttered.

              “Look, the police won’t come after us, I promise,” Fiddleford said. He rubbed the back of his neck.  “Stanley, if…if yer invested in bein’ a villain, I can talk to my folks, see if they’d be willin’ to hook ya up in the community, even though yer mother was my own ma’s archenemy.”

              “Really?” Stan asked eagerly.  Fiddleford nodded.

              “Yep.”

              “That would be-”

              “Are you sure about this?” Ford asked softly.  Stan opened his mouth.  “Think about your answer.  This could change your life.”

              “Getting kicked outta the house changed my life,” Stan said after a moment. He looked at Fiddleford.  “Tell your folks that if they’ll have me, I’m in.”

----- 

              Stan landed next to a flowerbed lining the front of the modest, whitewashed farmhouse.  He glanced over at the bluebells in full bloom, crowded together like they were on a subway, and shut off his flames.

              Don’t need to accidentally set everything on fire.  Especially since they’re already a bit cautious about me.  The front door opened.  Mr. McGucket walked onto the porch.  He leaned against the railing.

              “Howdy, Stanley.”

              “Mr. McGucket.”  Stan nodded politely.  A small, devious grin wormed its way onto Mr. McGucket’s face.

              “Ya ready fer yer interview?”

              “Uh, yeah, I- I think so.”

              “Good.”  Mr. McGucket nodded at something behind Stan.  Before he could turn around to see what Mr. McGucket was looking at, Stan was hit in the back of the head by a large amount of water, knocking him onto the ground. Stan caught himself on his hands, skinning himself on the nearby gravel driveway.  He spun around.

              “That was more fun ‘n I expected,” said his assailant, a short, dark-haired man with the distinctive McGucket nose.  Stan looked back and forth between him and Mr. McGucket. There was a definite familial resemblance.

              “One of your kids?” Stan asked Mr. McGucket.  Mr. McGucket nodded.

              “My youngest son, Lute.  He’s one of the folks what will be runnin’ yer interview.”

              “One of them?  Then who’s the-” Stan started.  He was cut off by a strong gust of wind ruffling his hair and shirt, lifting him to his feet.  Stan turned in a circle, trying to determine where it came from.  He caught sight of a young woman leaning against the Stanleymobile. She grinned cheekily at him. “Hey, get your paws off my car! She’s a classic,” Stan snapped. The woman raised an eyebrow.

              “Oh?”  She hopped onto the hood and posed dramatically.  “Like this?”

              Under normal circumstances, that would be hot, but I’m here for a job interview.  The woman tossed her hair.  Fine.  It’s hot anyways.

              “Banjolina, get off there,” Mr. McGucket scolded.  “Yer here to interview Stan, not climb all over his car.”  The woman – Banjolina – pouted, but slid off the hood.  “Stan, this young lady is my youngest daughter, Banjolina.  She’ll be helpin’ Lute conduct yer interview.”

              “I go by Angie,” Banjolina said.  Stan nodded.

              “Got it.  Easier to remember.”  He looked back at Lute.  “You two seem pretty close in age.”

              “We’re twins,” Lute and Angie said together.

              “Like I was sayin’, they’ll be conductin’ yer interview,” Mr. McGucket said.

              “Okay, are we gonna head inside for the questions or whatever?” Stan asked. Mr. McGucket laughed.

              “Goodness, no!” he chortled.  The devious grin returned.  “I don’t want my home to get water ‘n wind damage.”  Stan blinked.

              “Huh?”

              “Ya didn’t know?” Lute asked.  A grin to match his father’s appeared on his face.  “This ain’t a traditional interview.”

              “What the hell does that mean?”

              “If ya last fer fifteen minutes against Lute ‘n Angie, ya have the job,” Mr. McGucket said.  “They’re career villains, ‘n who you’d be runnin’ with, should we help ya join a crew.”

              “That’s it?” Stan asked, surprised.

              “Ya say that now,” Lute said.  “You’ll change yer mind once we actually start the fight.”

              “No, I wasn’t- I just meant, you’re not gonna ask me, like, where I see myself in five years or whatever?”

              “Pfft, no,” Angie scoffed.

              “Do ya want to go through the classic interview questions?” Lute asked.

              “No, no!  I just- you’re not gonna make sure I’m not spying for my mom?”

              “Yer diggin’ yourself a grave long ‘fore the funeral, son,” Mr. McGucket said. “Anyways, we already took a gander at yer emails, phone calls, internet history, medical records, et cetera.  Cursory background check, y’know?  To make sure that we can trust ya.  And now that we know we can trust ya, we can test ya, see if yer up to snuff.”

              “Wait, um- uh, did you say you looked at my internet history?” Stan asked, paling.  “‘Cause, uh, that- that wasn’t- I didn’t go to-”

              “Those dirty websites?” Lute drawled.  He chuckled. “I’ve seen worse.”

              “And we know ya went to ‘em,” Mr. McGucket said.  “One of the benefits of havin’ a technopath in the fam’ly.  We can track yer digital fingerprints better ‘n anyone else.”

              “…Great,” Stan muttered.

              “Are ya ready to get this ‘job interview’ goin’ yet?” Angie asked.  Stan sighed.

              “Yeah.  Hit me with your best shot.”

[tumblueberry]

Okay guys buckle up because I forgot to update Serena’s adventures last week and this one’s game has been amazing too. It’s three pages in word worth of text, you’ve been warned.

Last week:

We got to the nearest town in our way north to a Baroness' lands. Royce the human warlock knows her and apparently has some kind of deal (and respect to a point) this woman. The plan is to go there so they can do their business, tell her about the giants and dragons we saw and then continuing our quest to recovering his and our cleric's lost years of youth.

We arrive, a guard from a prominent order greets us and points us to the two inns in town. After chatting a bit about how things are here, we go to the good inn. There, we find our new bard YAAASS. His name is Justin Keis. Read it again. Yes. It's a pun. I love him already. Justin was talking to the bartender and she was being racist, so Nayah the human paladin stood up for him, and then the rest of the party just came down to the woman. Justin is a tiefling, btw! So, we obviously decided she didn't deserve our money! We went to the bad inn instead xD It smelled bad, everything was sticky and the bartender was an asshole, but at least he was like that to everybody and not just the weirdly colored, horned ones. There, we find our other new companion. His name is Elarel and he's a sea elf? Or something like that? An elf but like... green xD

Somehow we end up telling the man about what happened, he runs outta the place and we're left there with our super awful stews while we hear how people are freaking out. Of course, the boss of the previous guard enters the inn shortly after and we tell him again about the giants in the sky. Bit of time passes, we go to the small market and learn about ships not being able to go fishing because of the pirates. They have to buy food from nearby towns and everyone is misserable. I bought and stiletto though B) and Molk the lizzardfolk bought a big fish just to use the bone. Uro, his caracal companion, had a feast xD Then Royce bought some new clothes for the visit to the Baroness and I can't remember what else.

Anyway, we then go the beach and of course it turned into an anime beach episode. But like, with nudity and obscenity. First of, we made a little fire and Justin started playing his lute. Alana the half-elf clerid took off her clothes and ran into the water after a bit of meditation. Royce took off his clothes, swam and then started running after Uro with no success. But just imagine a 60 year old man, naked, running after a fucking caracal in a beach xDDD Meanwhile Molk was enjying some scuba diving and seeing THINGS, but we don't know what. Nayah joined us later in the water and Alana used thunderwave to create huge waves! It was cool, Serena swam along with the big wave and then did the little mermaid with her hair, looking just like one. I'm very proud of that. I also used shape water to create penises and boobs in the air with water xDDD After that I ran out of the water and rolled over the sand until I reached Justin and joined him with my flute. It was all very chill then. Last thing we did was making our own stew with potatoes and fish, not very good but better than the inn's lol. Then went to said inn, drank a bit, saw Royce having a fight with a random dude and then basically going to bed!

THE NEXT DAY aka today's game:

We wake up, take our horses and head out of this town promising to our dear Nayah we'll come back to help with the pirates. We also heard there were some trouble with missing people and attacks in the road we had to take up north, so we tell her we'll investigate. Later that day we set camp and look around for clues on big animals or something that could be attacking travelers... turns out, a fucking undead demon thing shows up. I don't know the name of the creature, but it was like a skelleton dog with fire instead of meat or furr. He saw Nayah, so we had to fight. During the fight we got lucky and the thing didn't touch us. We could destroy it and see how the palading precisely got the HDYWDT and it was awesome, she sank her axe into the creature's skull, it broke in half and then the entire thing turned into ashes. From them, we found a medallion with the symbol of the Lord of the Hells or something like that. Royce wanted to keep it but Nayah talked him into not wearing the symbol of a forbidden and perverted faith that was based in hurting others. So, we decide to not tell this to anyone, unlike the giant-dragons thingy in the previous town, and maybe only tell the mayor/person in power in the next place. We agree to shut our mouths and go to sleep.

Next day, we take our things and horses and ride to the next town, a happier, richer place. Less inhabitants but many farming lands. A guard stops us to say hello and ask our business and we're told they only had problems with outlaws. And something about the mayor but I didn't really get what's the deal with that woman :/ Anyway, the guard kindly points us towards the two taverns in town and we go to the less expensive one. Still kinda expensive for our little money looool. There, Royce tries to pick a fight with another random man but the owner of the inn was there and threw a dagger to the table where they were almost getting into the fight. They stop, obviously, and we go talk to the woman. She was an adventurer too once, and she sees us as adventurers to be. The woman asks us what we want, we talk about drinks and rooms, and then Royce asks for rumors. Justin said he wanted to play in the little scenario so I told the woman we would perform the greatest show she's ever seen! So, while Royce and Alana kinda exchange rumors with the owner, I start thinking about what the hell I will do. Now, I'm very sorry for myself, Serena and you guys, because I was NOT paying attention to them talking. My anxiety went over the roof and all I could do was trying to plan a good show by myself. The thing is, Justin's player was trying to get wifi from a plaza outdoors because he doesn't have it nstalled in his new students' rooms yet! So we could only communicate during his turns very briefly and through text, that made it more difficult to share info and plan shit. WELL, I can only remember that at some point Nayah and Royce were talking about the Baroness and gods and being a good person?? Oh, and that this woman apparently may have deals with pirates, yes, that's why Nayah was kinda angry and wanted to really talk to the Baroness. If this woman has a lot of farming land, produces a lot of food, and then has deals with pirates to prevent other towns from fishing aka getting their own food and way of living... they'll depend or her and her product, thus making her more rich sinc they have to buy food from her lands.

That's all I can gather :/ I may ask in private another day...

After that, more people arrive to drink after the day’s work, including the mayor and some friends of the innkeeper!

When they all had their talk time, the DM gave us bards the chance to describe what we do. And here goes our performance, I'm very proud of it, I had ideas and the dice really blessed us tonight :__) First, Justin starts playing the lute from the bar where we were drinking. I follow him for a few steps and then rise my voice so I'm heard “Ladies, gentlemen, dear audience here in our beloved Chatty Troll (the tavern lol)! Tonight you'll be witnesses of a very peculiar performance from the hands of the most singular Justin Keis – give the man an applause!- and yours truly, Serena of Shalesteps!” /applauds to herself as well. The people were responding but not too interested yet. “Look closely, and don't miss a thing... WATCH THIS!”. I start tapping the scenario at the rythm of Justin's lute, clapping to encourage the audience to do te same. When I'm sure I have their attention I grab my two daggers and brand new stiletto, I play with them, throw them in the air, juggling while tapping the floor. Justin's music gets more intense, and so I conjure and illusion of an extra dagger right in the air. The tavern was IMPRESSED, people started cheering and clapping on their own. Justin made the music go more and more intense, and reaching the climax I put the blades away, put out my flute with some accrobatic moves and start playing with my companion. Then, I cast cloud of daggers and the audience GASPS, everyone surprised, applauding, going crazy for us! A kid tried to touch the daggers but I stepped in front of them and just started walking around the area to prevent any other curious hands that would probably be chopped off :) Justin decides to stop the intense music, so I puff away the daggers and let him do his more peaceful, quieter melody now. He starts playing something soft and beautiful, singing along, then I accompany the melody with my own flute. We play a bit more and when he signs me with his head, we both stop at the same time and bow.

EVERYONE WAS GOING CRAZY ABOUT IT. We had such good luck with the dice, dudes, some nat20s, some beautiful high rolls, we were LIT SHIT this evening. The people at the inn threw us money to the scenario, we got asked things, the innkeeper invited us to drinks and we could stay there for free, FREE! Yassss I'm so proud of us :__) This is a fucking dream, you guys.

The best part is, Serena saw two kids trying to play with knives and she went there and taught them things, just like when she was a little rascal of a girl and some circus guy taught her about throwing daggers ;__;

After that, Royce got into a fight, lost, we drank aaaaand end of the game! Most of us got drunk and woke up with a hangover, but that's a problem for next Tuesday. Aaaah I'm so hyped I can't sleep xD We had a BLAST! Bar fighting, performance, an undead demon dog thing from hell!

Best party ever, guys, I'm thrilled.

More next week! Sorry it's such a long read lol. Love you guys <3

[flightykickback]

LAWD! This took forever to write!

I legit had… *counts*…three drafts that I scrapped.  What’s crazy is I had so much to type even though this was one night only; All I, and my bank account, had to give.  Why am I overthinking the details? LOL!

But, it’s finally here for your reading pleasure:  our crash and dash to see BTS Speak Yourself Tour in Chicago!

WARNING: This post is long and hardly edited.  I’m tired of looking at it.

When I say this was a crash and dash, I truly mean it.  My friend and I drove early morning from Cleveland, stopped by the Hello Kitty Café Truck in Westlake, then made it to Sleep Inn near Midway Airport by 2 PM on concert day.  We were on our way downtown to the BTS x Live Nation Pop-Up Shop shortly after.  Before we knew it, we were on our way home the next day.  Did we breathe? I don’t think so.

The weather in Chicago was *insert Alaska Thunderfuck voice* TERRIBLE! This wasn’t normal rain and cold, this was a cut through your bones kinda chill.  I was woefully underprepared, no thanks to checking weather reports! Sunny, they said.  ZERO chance of rain, then it rained on our way and was misty all day in Chicago.  Swear, I wanted to pack light, so I didn’t bring anything other than a thin jacket and my ballet flats.  Not only was I freezing, but I also kept stepping in puddles and mud at Soldier Field.  By the end of the night, my hands and feet could’ve been amputated.

Regardless, I had only one chance to complete my mission:

Visit the BTS x Live Nation Pop-Up Shop

Find Disequil Merch

Buy Tour Merch

Die at the Concert

I couldn’t lose!

Originally, my friend and I were to take the transit to the Pop-Up Shop, but she was gracious enough to get us a Lyft since we were an hour away by transit.  The driver was real chill and indulged my hyperactivity enough to withstand me asking if his earlobe gauges hurt (to which we learned he just increased the size today! (☉｡☉)), complaining that Blueface is throwing all rappers off-beat, and asking him to cut-off a FL plated minivan trying to jump ahead of us.

Um, excuse me, this Chicago, baby! You can’t just barge in.  Fend for yourself! *Doesn’t really mean any of this since there’s hardly any traffic in Cleveland and traffic in Chicago sucks* But we had somewhere important to be! (๑•̀ㅂ•́)و

We get to the Pop-Up Shop and the line was hundreds of people deep, from the shop door and around an entire city block.  The only consolation was the representation of all ages, ethnicities, sizes, and gender was admirable, and they all desired to buy these overpriced designs by Live Nation.  I just wanted the free slap bracelet =P

My friend and I were getting out of the Lyft (I’m sure our driver misses us T.T) and I tell her, maybe we can ask for bracelets and get the hell outta here.  She told me, she’ll watch me ask LOL!

I set off to find an employee in what was an embarrassingly long amount of circling in one spot, looking confused while mumbling to myself, “I don’t see any employees! Where’s the door?! Why are there no employees?! Will people think I’m cutting the line? How can people walk into a building with only one way in and one way out, without any employees outside?! Even a club has bouncers!” Literally, the door would swing open and a select few would walk in before the door slammed shut. Did the door even have a handle?? Meanwhile, my friend is waiting against something, looking comfortable.

Then I spot him, THE ONLY representative that appeared to be working outside, complete in a personal jacket and regular looking jeans.  The walkie-talkie and him opening the exit door set my sensors off.  LOL!

“Excuse me, how long is the wait?” I was on a whole. ‘Notha. Level. My introvertedness was nowhere to be seen.

“Three hours.” THREE M-FING HOURS?! Oh hell no, we ain’t got time for that!

“Oh no! My friend and I drove all the way from Cleveland to see the concert tonight.  It starts at 7.” Pure defeatism in my body language and disappointment all over my face.

Aaaaaaaand LIFTOFF! My strange hyperactive charm engaged the employee in a conversation about the wait time, how most ARMY are finagling it, how he got the job (he knows people?!), and eventually I tell him, “I just want a slap bracelet.”

His movements were “say no more” quick.  I barely finished my sentence before he opened the door and reemerged with ONE slap bracelet.  I thanked him profusely, then asked for another one for my friend.  “NOPE! Should’ve asked then.  They gave me a hard time with this one!”  Needless to say, I apologized profusely to my friend -_-; (Sorry!).

  DISSSSEEEQUILLLL MERCH! Ya’ll! I’ve been aching to add their glow-in-the-dark Speak Yourself Tour pin to my collection and it just so happened the merchant was going to be a Soldier Field.  I couldn’t miss this opportunity.  The anxiety set in when I learned I had to find Disequil by Twitter stalking.

I’ve wrote how my friend and I ran into Big Hit Staff before.  They ab-so-lutely DO NOT want anyone except them selling any merch on tour grounds.

Ooooooo, they want their money! They were looking to bust merch and fan sites like it’s their only mission.  There were also a few scares circulating online that cops were busting fan sites, giving them court orders and throwing their merch away O-O! So you can imagine Disequil wasn’t playing any games.

One moment, Disequil was on the outskirts of Soldier Field Campus, then they were someplace else.  Suddenly, they were traveling to a donut shop and announced they’d only be there briefly.  I legit @ them like DO NOT MOVE! I’M COMING! T_T! So, in the frigid, misty air, by bus, we finally caught up with the merchant.  I not only get the SY tour pin, but also prints of their MONO series pin collection!

By now, everyone should know RM is my bias and his album, MONO, had me deep in reflection after its release.  I collect so many pins to show my love of RM and his intellect that it’s ridiculous.  It’s no surprise that I needed to have the MONO prints too.  The details in the design and the embodiment of each song within the artwork of the pins are overwhelming.  Dissu even explains each design because they’re that incredible!  Not only did I buy the prints, but I also bought the pins when Dissu reopened their shop.

Last, but not least, we had to hook my friend up with tour merch!

At Love Yourself in Chicago, there was only one place to buy merch, in the desolate asphalt lot across from United Center at the giant white circus tent.  This time, there were DOZENS of merch sites: outdoor trailers and kiosks and storefronts inside Soldier Field.  By the time we got there around 6 pm, there were no ridiculous wait times and almost everything was in stock.  The downside was not all merch spots had the same inventory.  This meant, not all the same size tees were in stock at every location – which tees were exactly what my friend was on the hunt for.

We’d go to a trailer and they’d have the tee, but not in the wanted size; then, we’d go to another site and they wouldn’t have the tee.  In hopes the next site would have the tee, we’d walk up to the counter and find they had a completely different set of tees or completely different inventory! Eventually, my friend had enough, got what she could with the promise to search again after the concert, and we headed to security to be seated.

Why didn’t we check the giant white circus tent you might ask? The mecca for all merch? Because they were ON THE GRASS! It was swamp muddy.  Like, devour your ballet flats muddy.  The worst part is the lonely UNO Experience tent was waaaaaaay across the sloppy wet field with no one paying it any attention. T_T

  Security was QUICK! I was shivering with cold and excitement knowing I wouldn’t have long before I’d be seated. I double-checked my clear, stadium approved bag: no liquids ✔, ARMY bomb ✔, Umbrella ✔ – when the security personnel caught my eye, “They won’t let you bring in an umbrella.” Ya’ll, when it was our turn, they wanted me to discard a premium umbrella, gifted to me by my manager, that folds outwards to trap any wetness from the rain AND has a flashlight on the handle.  The guard offers directions to the locker area.  Thanks!

We trek to find the lockers that were supposed to be on a simple pathway around the corner.  It was around the building and through a tunnel, on the side of a road.  These were portable gym lockers for $10! After gawking at the price, I made sure to put as much as I could in there LOL!

There was a bit of a panic on my end because there were at least 20 people working the registers and locking up peoples’ things, but it appeared the line wasn’t moving quick enough to catch the show on time.  Luckily, we got a locker, raced back to Soldier Field, practically flew through the security line and made it to our seats in time with 30 minutes to spare.  We didn’t miss a thing!

If you’ve never been to a k-pop concert, there’s a pregame after doors open for seating.  Music videos play and fans turn on their lightsticks for a sing-a-long.  It’s no different at Speak Yourself.  ARMY were singing to various music videos with their ARMY Bombs on.  I could feel the energy in the air from everyone’s anticipation.  The girl next to me was so excited about her first BTS concert that she immediately started talking to me about it.

  Finally, without prompting, the first VCR came on, and then…Dionysus.

Note:  Pairing the ARMY Bomb was a bih! I must’ve paired it with the Big Hit app at least five times with horrible cell phone reception until I realized I just had to move the switch from Bluetooth to on after paring LOL!

I did not watch a single recording of Dionysus before the concert.  At first, in all honesty, I was burnt out.  BTS releases so much media that I just needed a break, but this was the perfect opportunity for a surprise while being engulfed in so much sensation.  From that point on, I purposefully refrained from watching Dionysus so I could be murdered in the Soldier Field stands…and the impact did not disappoint!

The background lit up across huge LCD panels, giant silver tigers inflated across the stage, pillars began to appear, fire burst forth and BTS materialized from beneath the stage.  It was hardcore! Each member had a look of royalty and disregard. BTS, the song itself, the stage production, the choreo and surplus of dancers…was murrrddeeer.

The rest of the experience was personal.  I tried to live in the moment as much as possible; although I did get some footage, the rest of the experience turned into amazing memories.  Of course, I do have other highlights I want to share!

1.  THEY’S RICH! Somebody on their team said eff this budget! We straight flexin’! There were lasers, pyrotechnics, lights, beautiful LCD backgrounds, special effects for video feeds to the monitors, twice the amount of back-up dancers than at Love Yourself, inflatables and intricate light oceans (one that formed a galaxy!) throughout the concert. I’ve never seen nor heard of a concert like this.

Plus, every stage got a glow-up:  a conveyor belt on Suga’s stage, Jin’s intergalactic piano, Jay’s sleeker dance platform, RM’s Disney Magic wand, JK flying around the stadium, Jimin popping the bubble he appeared in, and V’s massive, sexy bed.  The medley portion was even standardized so every tour stop could see Baepsae hip thrusts.

I was blown away by how Big Hit could take the same setlist, add a few songs from Persona and still outdo themselves.  And at the very end, with ARMY singing to Mikrokosmos, the BTS logo ascended towards the stars as a year’s worth of fireworks erupted behind it.  It was the most picturesque ending to a concert and incredibly heartfelt.

  2.  The light ocean was phenomenal. We were in space y’all! Soooooooo many colors and each light ocean matched the set.  I frequently took time to look around the stadium and we’d be surrounded by rhythms of pulsing, colorful lights.  Sometimes, clusters of lights would form circles or gradients.  We were floating in a galaxy during Epiphany.  It was beautiful and really whisked me away to somewhere magical.

  3.  Jimin was genuinely concerned for our health. He told us to stay warm and to not catch a cold.  There were plenty of ARMY that had to look cute without a thin jacket, and Jimin gestured to one fan by rubbing his arms like aren’t you cold?! If memory serves correctly, he even posted for ARMY to take a bath when they got home (or was that Day 2?).

I haven’t put as much emphasis on the horrible weather as I should have, but it was hella cold!  So much so that BTS looked overwhelmed.  My hands and feet were numb FOR HOURS, during and after the concert! I really couldn’t fumble anymore for my phone when RM asked us to turn on our “technology,” for the third time that night.  By the time my friend and I got back to the hotel, my feet were so cold, not even laying in a warm bed, with the heat cranked up, could warm them up.

3.  JK said “It’s been a while,” like he’s been living in The States for years without ARMY knowing. His English improved greatly and I was so proud.

4.  V’s massive sexy bed could fit eight people, but instead, only he teased us from it. And the special effects! Singularity is about how someone could live opposite their true feelings, under an acceptable guise.  The monitor would focus on V, then split his image into two colors and have one move to the left and the right.  It made him look as if his person was being pulled in different directions, perhaps his true feelings and his guise, with his physical body, the one that has to live with this internal conflict at the center. It was overpowering and very slick.

5.  BTS and Big Hit fully invested in ARMY. The show was tied up so nicely that it really felt like ARMY was loved and appreciated.  It’s a double whammy when BTS goes live on VLive or posts to Twitter afterward.  This is why post-concert depression (PCD) is real.  It’s also why ARMY buy tickets for both concert dates at multiple tour stops.  The interaction and affection are second to none.  No other artists do it better.

6.  People love to interrupt me during Tear. This isn’t a highlight, but I think I’m cursed to have someone tap me on the shoulder, or walk in front of me to get to their seats during one of my most favorite sets, during my favorite part where Jay just goes in and owns the thang like the rest of the rap line ain’t there. Will I ever see it all the way through? LOL!

I could talk about the usual things like Flying Jungkook, singing along to Epiphany, all the shenanigans during the Anpanman obstacle course, or chanting J-Hope during Just Dance, but those things have already completed the social media circuit.  These highlights are my best experiences and impressions during the show.  There are definitely takeaways that I learned that may be helpful in the future:

 1.  Don’t trust weather forecasts! They can change. Just pack in case of crummy weather, especially transitioning seasons.

2.  If Big Hit keeps accommodating shorter merch lines, there may no longer be obscene waits unless ARMY wills it so.

3.  So what if you don’t get floor seats? Sitting in the stands is still excellent! My friend and I were able to snag seats on the third level, center stage.  It was perfect.  We could see the stage and monitors head-on.  Any antics from the boys were clearly visible.  Most people will tell you that sitting on the floor level is overrated.  You can see everything clearly from the upper levels without people hogging your view!

4.  Staying close to the concert decreases commuter time when leaving the show. I didn’t mention it before, but it took us 2-3 hours to get back to the hotel because 60,000 fans were all leaving at the same time (and because of the Stadium’s poor direction of pedestrian traffic and Lyft drivers being a-holes ( ͒˃⌂˂ ͒)).  On the other hand, we had a cheaper stay at a nice hotel, with a full breakfast included, by staying further from the city center.

5.  Immerse yourself into the concert! You catch more visually and can feel more of the experience. Granted, you won’t have videos and pictures, but as I fumbled with my phone, I lamented not capturing a moment on time and missed out on the full sensation of being present.  To up the ante, bring an ARMY Bomb since the show is an interactive experience.

6.  Lastly, don’t crash and dash! Due to a tight-TIGHT schedule, my friend and I couldn’t catch up with our ARMY friends. Don’t do this! The stress was horrid. Please take your time.  There’s more to see, plenty of people to connect with and lots of good food downtown.  Stay a bit and relax.

All in all, Speak Yourself in Chicago was bomb, from the insane opening to the ethereal ARMY send-off at the end.  This laser light space show in an ARMY Bomb galaxy was completely and utterly magical.  All ARMY should have a chance to experience it and if BTS continues their reign as artists and Big Hit keeps a bottomless budget, the next tour will be the most spectacular yet!

~PHOTO AND VIDEO BOMB!~

              Experience: #SpeakYourselfInChicago LAWD! This took forever to write! I legit had… *counts*…three drafts that I scrapped.  What's crazy is I had so much to type even though this was one night only; All I, and my bank account, had to give. 

[hoob-gooblin]

straight same. for a sport with a helmet i can maybe imagine keeping my segment hoops in my ears and nose because they're seamless and would be unlikely to hook into something but even then i'd be careful. like i'd prolly take the septum out and tape my ears anyway. no helmet contact sports? same deal if the rules even allow you to wear jewelry in. like you could be straight up barred from play even with the smallest, safest jewely. i used to do competitive karate and it's a hard ban on jewelry bc it puts you and your opponent in danger

my eyebrow piercing?! no way in hell!!! . that bitch comes out any time my face could touch anything at all. i get nervous keeping it in when i do acro that's as solo a sport as you can get

a contact sport? a helmet? a fucking fight? abso-fuckin-lutely not

and i'm talking about sports here. regulated, protective gear sports.

andrew minyard, who regularly gets in fist fights, implied to regularly get in fights on the street would have to be a GODDAMN MORON to have piercings of any kind.

you would literally have to be SO stupid to have piercings in a fight. your opponent can grab them to tear them out and get a hold on you even if they're small. they could get pushed in on a punch. especially a nose, mouth, or eyebrow piercing! and i don't think i need to explain how uncomfortable the idea of getting your lip stapled to your teeth or your barbel lodged in your eye socket is! not to mention the thought of them just straight up getting ripped out!!!! AAAAHHH!!

so in summary yes the punk piercings andrew looks cool but no! no way in hell!! absolutely not!!!

(i'm also not tryna like,, yell at people who like it. i just have face piercings have done contact sports and the idea of getting my piercings pulled scares the shit outta me. like it's literally a nightmare if mine. this also doubles as a public service announcement: never, EVER fight with piercings in)

(however the idea of andrew slowly and methodically having to to remove all his little earrings before renee beats the shit outta him is funny)

It kinda makes me laugh a little when I see/read the aftg characters with body piercings. Don’t get me wrong, I love the idea of them having lip rings, and septum bars, and studs all the way up their ear cartilage, that shit is awesome! And I will probably cave and give the characters some bling like that eventually

But…you have several characters that get pretty violent (cough-andrew-cough) and the rest play a high contact sport that usually leads to brawling most matches. And to imagine the characters willingly opting to get something that can be ripped out of their body at any given time makes me go a little ??? y’all are just asking for it!?  

I suppose they have headgear and some other forms of protection, but the only person I can imagine having a body piercing other than on their head, would be Andrew. Since he has more protection covering his torso as a goalie. (But then also imagining Andrew letting some random stranger touch his body for something like that seems a little unlikely too).  I’m just saying that I won’t put it past these dum dums to get some, but please let at least one person reason with them first about the dangers!