#slider bullets slider

[gaybirdnerd]

Headcanon: Maverick carries weapons on him at all times and Goose is so used to it he forgets it's not common knowledge. There will just be a random pocket knife in Mav's boot, a small pinprick knife hidden in his watch band, an fp-45 liberator on his ankle, some bullets for it in his pockets, a hunting knife always on his waistband underneath his flight suit.

One night the flyboys are all out drinking at the O club, and someone gets rowdy with Goose, pulling him outside before anyone else can do anything about it. A group of the guy's buddies followed them out, but before Ice and Slider, who went after them, can do anything, Maverick is there.

This short little shit who they've only ever seen raising his voice but not his hands is in front of Goose and holding a wicked looking Hunter's blade at the first guy's throat, snarling that he'll end this man's life if he has to.

The flyboys watch as the group leaves, making sure they don't get a chance to turn around. When they turn back to make sure Goose is ok, he and Maverick are not there, driving away in the Bronco by the time the boys go searching for them in the parking lot.

The next day, Goose and Maverick show up with no time for the others to question them before Viper arrives in the room and quiets them down.

They get through the class, then are ordered to do a hop before they can think about asking Maverick or Goose what they saw.

After the hop, they're all gathered to talk about their hop and Wolf and Hollywood keep glancing at Maverick wondering if he's got a weapon on him, no, right?

Viper notices, because of course he does, and demands what they're so fucking distracted about. When no one says anything, he looks at Maverick and asks him what's happening, only to get a shrug and a guess that it's about his hunting knife, which Viper was told about.

Viper goes up to him and asks for a weapon, getting a "gun or knife?" response, startling the others except Goose.

Viper says both and gets a gun from his ankle and a hunting knife after unzipping his flight suit.

[maverices]

the old guard au that's been living in my head rent-free the past few weeks:

Tom has been around since roughly 100 BC, Nick is from the late Middle Ages

Unlike in TOG, the immortals don’t work in groups, since one death is more easily faked than several. They convene to get rid of the dreams, and then separate again.

Nick Weber and Thomas Kazansky meet more by chance than anything else at USNA. They become friends quickly, but are separated after graduation, and only meet again in Top Gun.

Nick meets Pete Mitchell and his best friend, Carole Bradshaw at a karaoke bar. The next day, he’s introduced to his pilot, Maverick.

the plot of Top Gun happens as is, until...

Goose’s neck cracks when he hits the canopy. Maverick drags him out of the water and holds him for hours, sure that he’s dead, until Goose starts sputtering when he’s lifted into the helicopter

In the aftermath, Mav is haunted by nightmares to the point where he considers handing in his wings the same way Cougar did. Goose comes clean to him on impulse to comfort him. (Carole knew since before she and Goose got married.)

Ice is mad when he finds out. (Because Goose is an idiot, because he’s going to get them revealed and captured and tortured, because it’s a risk and that’s why they’re not supposed to tell anyone ever. Because Goose is too soft, and Maverick would’ve gotten over it, eventually. Because Ice has never told anyone his secret, has never trusted anyone enough. Because Ice is alone, and Goose has Maverick and Carole and Bradley. Because Ice saw Maverick suffering and didn’t know how to help him. Because Ice circled a green spot in the ocean until he ran in danger of crashing himself and Slider too, and he saw that one of them floating dead in the water and didn’t know which one of them it was. Because he could convince himself that Goose would be okay somehow, but Mav maybe wouldn’t be and it was Ice’s jetwash, Ice’s perfectionism, Ice’s competitiveness, that took them out of the sky.) He’s also jealous as fuck, because he’s never told an outsider his secret, always held himself separate from everyone else, never formed a connection with anyone that wasn’t based on a lie. He’s so envious of Goose, who has a wife and now a friend who know; who has a kid he loves.

Somewhere during his angry rant, he figures out he’s halfway in love with Maverick. He shuts down completely, avoiding both Goose and Maverick for the rest of the class.

The Layton rescue happens as is; afterwards, Maverick and Goose return to Top Gun, Iceman and Slider return to their squadron. Ice and Mav keep in touch.

They run into each other after they both have completed the transition to F-18 jets. Mav still flies a two-seater, Ice jumps at the chance to fly solo after Slider took a desk promotion to be closer to his family.

During a mission together, Ice is shot down by enemy guns on the way back. What little can be recovered of the wreck is in bad shape; the canopy is riddled with bullet holes, and the amount of blood and other organic matter found is enough to classify him as KIA twice over. Goose’s grief is real; they’ve both survived their fair share of fatal injuries, but none of them have ever crashed a jet into a cliffside. Without his wingman, Mav had to high-tail it out of there. They almost make it back to the carrier, but are forced to eject shortly before back-up arrives. Stray gunfire damages Mav’s parachute, and he breaks both legs from water impact.

Mav stays with Carol during his medical leave; he drags her to the doctor when her migraines start becoming a regular occurance. He takes care of Bradley when she’s hospitalized with a brain tumor. He holds Goose as he cries and rages, and talks him down from letting the doctors take blood samples from him because what happens to Bradley when Goose gets taken away to get experimented on? Should Bradley lose both his parents at once?

Carole gets better, eventually. Two days after her last chemo, there’s a knock at the door, and Ice is standing there in casual clothes, looking no worse for wear.

Mav lets go of his crutches to punch him in the face, and then drags him inside and proceeds to cry into his shoulder for an hour.

[dookins]

Here's how to Disable Third Parties (Like AI Companies) from Looking At Your Shit. A Comprehensible Guide.

If you're on your computer, go to "ACCOUNT" located on the Left <-side bar, and choose for the blog you want to shield from the artificial onlookers. (Side note: You're gonna have to do this to each blog you have... ughhh.. they don't make it easy.) ANyway, choose one of your blogs and click it.

Once there, go to the Right -> side bar, and click on "BLOG SETTINGS."

Your Blog's page set up should be set up like this. Now, scroll allll the way down (it's near the damn BOTTOM >:( ) Until you get to a Section Called, "VISIBILITY."

Here's the "VISIBILITY" section. If you look at the blue bullet right there, you'll see "Prevent third-party sharing for (yourtumblrblogname)". Yours will probably be a gray bullet. Gray means you've switched it to OFF. Blue means it's switched to ON. Make sure the bullet slider is blue. And Bam. You're done (for this blog). No extra save button thankfully or whatever. BUT now you have to go and do the same thing for all your other side blogs. Hope this helps some of my followers. Because the tumblr is set up in a way that gives you multiple setting options for not just each blog, but your account as well. So you'd ASSUME it'd be underneath your account so it could apply to everything! Buuut its not. And here we are. Good luck out there fellow artists. And tumblr? Shame. Live was a mistake, and so was this.

[thisapplepielife]

Written for @steddiesongfics.

If He Wanted To, He Would

July Prompt: Any Song Lyrics | Word Count: 2000 | Rating: T | CW: Language | Tags: Eddie POV, Modern Setting, Sports AU, Rockstar Eddie, Baseball Player Steve, Very Public Love Affair, Corroded Coffin, Good Uncle Wayne Munson

I've used lyrics from Take Me Out to the Ball Game & Blank Space.

Even the news is covering it. 

That's fucking ridiculous. There's an animated graphic, a live tracker of where his plane is, a moving dot over the Atlantic, like it's Christmas Eve and he's Santa Claus.

Eddie's gonna make it. He was always gonna make it, even as the press ran the numbers, the miles, and milked every ounce of drama out of it.

He made game one, and game four, and now he's racing back from playing Wembley in London to make it for game seven. The media has tried to sell the idea that Steve wanted the World Series to go to seven, just so Eddie would be able to attend.

Eddie's glad he's getting to see it, of course he is, but if they could have swept it in four, or locked it down in five or six, that would have been fucking awesome. Even if that meant Eddie missed seeing it live, and had to watch on television, in the middle of the night, across the world.

There are a shitton of tiktoks every week, dissecting their every move, looking for easter eggs. Eddie is just living his life, even if a million people are always watching him like a fucking hawk.

Goodie is walking back from the beer garden in the stadium, carrying his plastic cup in his mouth as he fiddles with something in his hands. Not spilling a goddamn drop. Eddie can only see this because he's being broadcast onto the stadium jumbotron.

When he climbs the stairs into the suite, Eddie asks, "Where's Gareth?"

"Got spotted. Now he's taking pictures. I just slipped away unnoticed. Sucker," Goodie says, putting his cup down on the table.

"Unnoticed, huh?" Eddie teases. He won't tell him. He'll just wait until Goodie sees it online for himself. "There's free beer back there you know?" Eddie asks. Neither one of them needed to venture out into the crowd.

Goodie shrugs, "I wanted this kind."

He could have had that kind, could have had any kind, if he'd just asked for it. But no, he wanted to be out among the people. 

None of them are particularly fond of baseball, but they are fond of Steve, so here they are. The whole band doesn't always come, but it's the championship game, so they did.

And the score has been 1-0 forever. 

Wayne is pacing. Unlike them, he loves baseball, even if he's been a little turncoat, switching teams like a lifetime of dedication meant nothing at all. He's gotten a little shit from his friends back home, but Eddie thinks it's honestly very sweet. Eddie loves that Wayne likes Steve enough to put him and his team as his number one with a bullet, now.

It helps that Steve's part of a fucking dynasty. It's fun to win, even Eddie gets that.

Wayne doesn't always hang out in suites. More often than not, he'd rather sit in the stands. Focus on the baseball, not the celebrity that's now surrounding it. But Wayne's been dragged into their highly publicized love affair, and now he's starting to get recognized all on his own, so Eddie worries. 

Plus, he'd rather have him right here, where they can spend time together.

"What's the count?" Eddie asks. 

"3-2," Wayne answers.

Eddie's distracted, filling his plate with the various appetizers that came with the steep price of the private suite. Sliders, pigs in a blanket, and all kinds of other fancified versions of comfort food. He's just scooping some mac & cheese on his plate when he hears his main guitar riff from Buckwild. He puts down his plate, making his way to the big windows just in time to see Steve step towards the batter's box. 

Steve only changes his walk-up music to Corroded Coffin when Eddie's in attendance. He currently walks-up to Milkshake, which is fucking hilarious. He's one of the first openly out players, and he really leans into it, changing up his walk-up music, usually to something a little queer. Eddie knows it's partially to poke fun at himself first, before anyone else can. 

But tonight, it's his song. Eddie's sure he's being broadcast on the jumbotron from some camera he can't even see, and may even be on live television. Eddie watches as Steve briefly points his bat, and at first Eddie thinks Steve's calling his shot, but no. Not unless he's intending to hit a foul ball.

No, he gestured at Eddie. At least where he assumed Eddie would be.

Eddie fiddles with the rings on his hand, moving from finger to finger, twisting them around and around as Steve swings and misses for the second time. Eddie can hardly watch, it makes him so nervous.

"What's the count?" Eddie asks. It's the only question he knows to ask.

"2-2," Wayne says from somewhere behind him. Wayne doesn't stand at the front when it's likely the camera is on them. Eddie gets it, he does, but he'd like him at his side. The windows are open tonight, and the fans in the seats in front of the suite have leaned up to talk to them, to get things signed, and Eddie has done it. They all have. Waving off security.

Nobody is being shitty, just excited, and Eddie's grateful he's been accepted by most of Steve's fans. There was always the fear that he'd be seen as a distraction, and sure, that's been a bit of the narrative, but Steve's in the goddamn World Series. His head is obviously still in the game.

Eddie signed a custom Corroded Coffin jersey with Steve's number on the back earlier, and if that wasn't fucking weird and delightful. And Harrington jerseys have been increasingly spotted at their gigs, from one in the crowd, to a dozen or more.

Steve takes the next ball, and Eddie was terrible at baseball as a kid. He swung at everything. He never had the self-control to wait for something good. 

He's glad he grew out of that, at least a little, because he waited, and now he has Steve. A goddamn home run in human form. 

Eddie's relieved when he hears the crack of the bat finally making contact with the ball, and he watches intently until Steve's safely on first, Eddie leaning out of the open box window, hanging onto the frame, screaming.

He rights himself, clapping hard as he spins in a circle, screaming some more.

Then, Eddie watches as Steve steals second on a wild pitch, and the stadium sound system blares to life with Gimme Three Steps.

Steve dusts himself off from his slide in, and Eddie is so fucking smitten. 

And his ass looks damn good in those pants. His milkshake did bring Eddie to the yard.

It's the seventh-inning stretch, and Eddie hears the familiar, "for it's one, two, three strikes, you're out," being sung by the entire stadium.

He's nervous now. More nervous than he ever is going on stage anymore.

They've made it this far, and he wants Steve to win the whole thing. 

They do win. Steve fielded a grounder, whipped it to first base, and with one last out, it was finally over. Gloves being thrown in the air, lots of hugs and jumping up and down.

Steve did it.

And Eddie smiles.

Steve isn't released, not yet. There'll be interviews, and a parade that Eddie unfortunately can't attend, so Eddie only gets a few minutes in the tunnel with him. Some stolen kisses and a silly groped handful, just giving Steve's cup a squeeze, to make him laugh. 

It's all too brief, but he'll see him soon. 

They go from the game straight back to the airport, Goodie and Gareth both pretty drunk after too many celebratory shots, leaving Jeff and him to babysit as they get wheels up, to head back across the pond. Their world tour, waiting.

They'll make it. 

Steve swears jet-lag is a choice, and Eddie's choosing to believe him.

Another city, and his turn on the big stage, as Eddie looks out towards the VIP tent. Steve waves with both hands over his head, making himself larger, more easily seen.

Steve attended a few Monday shows with Robin, when their schedules lined up enough to allow it. But now his season is over. He's a fucking world champion, and it's the offseason, which is Eddie's new favorite word.

If he'd known he'd fall in love with a sportsball guy, he would have made sure their tour had a lengthy break during this magical offseason.

Next year.

And Eddie is confident that next year is a given. That's how in he is with their relationship, with Steve. They both have their own lives, their own fame, their own increasingly busy schedules. But they make it work, because they want it to work.

The fans have dubbed all their crisscrossing travel as "if he wanted to, he would" and have been straight up swooning. 

Eddie likes that thought, because he does want to, and he knows Steve wants to, too.

He's committed to this thing, and so is Steve. And if that means flying for hours to be there for the important shit, even if you have to turn around and fly right back, well fuck, you do it. And you don't even think about it.

Eddie slips in a pop cover, mid-set, just being silly, because he wants to shout out Steve a little bit extra tonight. He sings and when he gets to "'cause you know I love the players, and you love the game" and the crowd gets behind it. Steve, too, if his hands in the air are any indication. 

He's a pop girlie at heart, and Eddie loves him for it.

Steve is comfortable in his own skin, and he likes what he likes. He's supportive of Eddie, of Corroded Coffin, and very demonstrative with his affection and admiration. The love is always free-flowing. But, heavy metal isn't his thing. Not really. And that's okay.

So, a little pop is injected for his benefit, Eddie saying 'I love you for who you are' right back.

Buckwild is last, is always last, and Steve's here, so that means a subtle lyric change. He only does it when Steve's in attendance, and it makes the crowd go wild. Changing one word is enough to send them into a frenzy, like they're part of something special and sacred.

They are.

When he approaches the lyric, Steve has moved closer, right at the stage, in front of the barricade, and puts his hand up to his ear, hyping the crowd, getting ready for it, and Eddie can hardly sing through his fucking smile.

When they exit the stage, the first face he sees is Steve's, and Steve opens his arms and Eddie hugs him, pulling back and kissing him, over and over.

He's the one. 

The one he loves.

The one he'll marry.

The one. Period.

Steve waves to the crowd that's gathered to watch, and then he puts his arm around Eddie's waist, ushering him away, one more show over.

In bed, Eddie rests his head against Steve's bare chest. These last few weeks have been different, brand new, and exciting. It's the first time they've really gotten to feel like they're coming home to each other. Getting to be in the same place for an extended period of time, Steve following the tour.

Steve brushes Eddie's bangs off his face, and kisses his forehead.

"You were amazing tonight," Steve whispers, and Eddie grins. 

"So were you, working the crowd," Eddie says.

Steve laughs, and Eddie loves it. Steve's not shy. He's had all the media training, probably more than Eddie, because he's got a brand, a team, to protect. Eddie just runs his mouth at-will, always has.

Steve doesn't hide backstage where Eddie can't see him, no, he always makes sure he's supporting Eddie out loud and with his whole goddamn chest.

So, because he wants to, he does.

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @steddiesongfics and follow along with the fun! 🎶

Notes: Obviously inspired by the very public relationship of Taylor Swift and Travis Kelce. Goodie carrying the beer in his teeth is straight up a shoutout to Jason Kelce doing that at the Eras tour. 🍺

This one was so hard to stop writing for at the 2k max word count, lol.

[foreverunfinishedstory]

The Bats, The Spider And The Misunderstandings

Chapter 1

After the multiverse debacle, Peter asked Dr. Strange to erase everyone’s memory of “Peter Parker.”

Dr. Strange then be all like, “I’ll do you one better.”

And poof — Peter Parker wasn’t just forgotten.

He was deleted from his old universe entirely. Yanked out and unceremoniously dumped into this godforsaken one. Also, because the multiverse is a mess of spaghetti timelines, he was eight again.

Just wonderful.

Gotham looked like someone turned the world’s saturation slider to grayscale and never turned it back up. Constant fog. Cold. Buildings that screamed “crime scene” even when they weren’t — actually, maybe they are. Basically, if a horror movie and a crime documentary had a baby, it’d be Gotham.

And the crime? Horrific. Missing persons, muggings, murders — all before lunch. The city had so many lunatics running around that it required a full team of nighttime vigilantes in pointy ears just to function.

Peter, now eight and existentially annoyed, tried his best to survive. His oversized hoodie didn’t do much against the cold, but at least it made him look appropriately pathetic.

He found shelter in an abandoned building that looked one sneeze away from collapsing. It had bullet holes, cracked walls, and probably a ghost or two, but hey — better than the streets.

For food, he dumpster-dived. Mostly behind cafés and bakeries, where tossed-out pastries and sandwiches still smelled edible. Sometimes people even left them in clean containers, as if offering sacrifices to whatever street kid gods existed.

After overhearing Gotham’s strict “No Meta” rules, Peter decided to lay low. No Spider-Man-ing. Which, honestly, felt so dumb, considering Signal was clearly glowing in broad daylight.

Still, he didn’t need webs to help people. He wasn’t going to let a no-fun city ordinance stop him from doing what he always did. He rescued cats, helped the elderly cross the street, found lost dogs, and — just recently — got kidnapped.

Intentionally.

There’d been whispers of a child trafficking ring. So Peter, brilliant idiot that he was, played the part: small, weak, alone. Bait. He got scooped up like a clueless stray.

Now he sat with his hands tied in some grimy warehouse alongside several trembling, sniffling kids. He wanted to bust them out right now, but he needed information first — how many kidnappers, were there multiple cells, who was in charge…

His plan:

Step 1: Get kidnapped.

Step 2: Gather intel.

Step 3: Escape, save the kids, and drop an anonymous tip to the Bats.

Simply flawless!

Except Step 3 turned into watching Gotham’s bat-themed Power Rangers crash through the skylight and absolutely wreck the kidnappers.

Peter blinked up at the vigilantes, squinting. Robin. Red Robin. Nightwing. Spoiler.

Why did they all look so familiar?

“You okay, little guy?” Red Robin asked gently, kneeling to untie him.

Peter pouted. “Yeah, I’m good.” He really didn’t like the patronizing voice.

Meanwhile, Tim Drake — aka Red Robin — was having a crisis.

Why does this kid look like Dick? Like, tiny Dick Grayson with different hair and eye color. Is this his secret love child? No—Dick would have had a full-blown meltdown if that were the case. So maybe…accidental love child? Clone? Why is no one else freaking out???

He pushed the spiral of panic to the side for now. Priorities.

“What’s your name?” he asked.

“Peter… Peter Parker,” the kid answered hesitantly.

Tim offered a hand. “Alright, Peter. Can you stand?”

Peter got up on his own, brushing Tim’s hand away with eight-year-old levels of defiance.

He led the kids outside with Spoiler. Paramedics were already waiting.

“Hey O, run a search for ‘Peter Parker,’ will you?” Tim murmured into comms.

“Who’s Peter Parker?” Nightwing asked.

“I don’t know, N, you tell me,” Tim deadpanned, eye roll audible.

Now everyone was confused. But Tim was the team’s resident caffeine-powered genius, so they assumed he had a reason. Even if he sounded like he’d just discovered Dick had a secret son.

—

Back at the Batcave, Tim tossed a strand of hair — covertly plucked from Peter’s head — into the batcomputer.

The results were… unexpected.

Yes, Peter Parker was genetically related to Dick Grayson. 49% match. Basically, mini Grayson.

But the kicker?

His DNA had been tampered with. Modified. There were traces of radioactivity and spider DNA.

“I was not emotionally prepared for a radioactive spider nephew,” Tim muttered.

“Find anything on him?” he asked Oracle.

“No records. It’s like he doesn’t exist. Might be a fake name?” Barbara speculated.

Then came The Voice.

“Red Robin. Explain. Who is Peter Parker?” Batman demanded.

Tim didn’t even look up. “Nightwing’s son.”

“WHAT?!” The entire team exploded in unison.

“…Also, radioactive spider son,” Tim added helpfully.

“RED ROBIN,” Damian snarled. “EXPLAIN. PROPERLY.”

Tim sighed, rubbing his temples.

“One of the kidnapped kids looked just way too much like Nightwing. Different coloring, but face structure? Identical. So I did the logical thing: snatched some DNA, ran a test. Results say Peter Parker is genetically Nightwing’s kid. Forty-nine percent match.”

“But there’s more. His DNA’s been altered — radioactive signature, arachnid genes. He’s not a natural meta. He was experimented on.”

“…He was created,” Cass murmured.

Everyone turned to look at Nightwing, who looked somewhere between confused, horrified, and mentally flipping through every decision he'd made since puberty.

“I—I don’t know who his mother is,” Dick said, bewildered. “I… had a bit of a playboy phase, okay? There were names I didn’t catch—faces I barely remember—look, it was a very confusing time in my life!”

---

Peter was having the best time in the hospital ICU. The bland porridge? Absolute gourmet compared to dumpster bread. The bed? Heavenly. He could cry.

He planned to sneak out early before anyone realized he might be a meta. But for now, he wanted sleep.

Then the curtain moved.

Peter’s spider-sense didn’t warn him, so he ignored it. Probably a nurse.

Then someone sat down next to him. And touched his hair.

Peter jolted up and slapped the hand away. “What the—?!”

He froze. “...Dad?"

Sitting beside him was a man who looked exactly like his late father. Peter stared, wide-eyed.

“Did I just call Dick Grayson dad? Oh my god. I’m so tired. Just because he looks like my dad doesn’t mean—Wait. He’s not my dad. I don’t even exist here! How can I have a dad?!”

“I’m sorry,” Dick said softly, voice thick with guilt. “I didn’t know. I didn’t know I had a son. But the Bats told me, and I saw you and... I’m sorry I wasn’t there. I’m so sorry.”

Tears slipped down his cheeks.

Peter blinked. Then moved forward and hugged him.

“It’s okay,” Peter whispered. “You didn’t know.”

Dick hugged him tightly, his heart breaking and healing all at once. “I’ve got you now.”

Peter pulled back. “Dad… Can we go home? I don’t like hospitals.”

Dick froze, mind spinning. Of course. Hospitals probably reminded him of labs. Of pain.

“Yeah, kid. Let’s go home.”

[herarcadewasteland]

Trouble

A/N: This the small piece for the Wooyoung Bullet Point thing i made a little while back! I finally got it done and now you get it~

~~~~~~~~~~~

Pairing: Wooyoung x Reader ft. San

Warnings: meandom!wooyoung, slapping (thigh and face), degradation, unprotected sex (wrap it up), creampie technically, protected sex (good job), big dick!woosan, restraints, slightly sub!sannie, exhibitionism.

The goal, for once, was not to piss off Wooyoung. Quite the opposite. All you wanted was a little bit of attention from him instead of having it all focused on the damn soccer game that Jongho had put on. It had started off slow that he had no idea it was even happening. Seeing you a little more slung over San than usual, your close relationship was nothing new to him because he was around the man so much himself. A few deliberate hand placements on the muscles of his arm when he made a dumb joke. It was harmless. At least to you. 

As soon as Wooyoung picked up on it, he was on his own plan. You wanted to be a brat and pretend to be more interested in his best friend than him? Your boyfriend? He could play at that game too. He ignored your attempts for his attention, your attitude growing bolder as you noticed Wooyoung not even sparing you a glance, a haughty smirk on his lips as he laughed with Jongho and Yeosang. Your actions towards San got more blatant, a blush covering the boys cheeks as you leaned against him, pressing your tits into his arm. Laughing louder at his jokes, swiping a drop of mayo from his lips when it spills out of the slider. Wooyoung was glancing your way more now, your eyes meeting a few times as his progressively held more danger. 

You knew you were in for it now but you were so far into your plan, you couldn't just back out of it and admit defeat. So you went in harder. Bumping your arm a little too hard into San to spill your drink all over his white shirt, your eyes going wide as you gasped and grabbed for napkins to dab at his shirt while you ran your hands across his broad chest. San muttered something under his breath and shook you off with a sheepish smile, telling you he could borrow a shirt from one of the boys as he scurried away. 

You huffed lightly, calling out another apology and turning to look at your boyfriend. His eyebrow was raised, hands folded neatly on his knee as he watched you. The look in his eye was past danger now. You were royally fucked. That didn’t stop you from continuing your antics the next week when you and your boyfriend invited San out to the mall for a day of shopping.

It had started slowly as it had the previous week. Small brushes of your hand against San’s ass, brushing your tits against him blatantly when Wooyoung was looking into a window display. Little did you know, Wooyoung knew what you were doing. He saw you in that same window display reflection brushing against his best friend. He saw it all and took note of it all, a smirk resting on his pretty lips while you flirted with San to get under his skin. 

He couldn’t say it wasn’t working, but it wasn’t working as well as you had hoped. You picked up on that fact slowly, building your tactics to make San flustered and your boyfriend mad. Your opportunity came in two forms. One of ketchup clinging desperately to San’s lower lip. You peeked a glance at Wooyoung, seeing him focused on his own hamburger, you took the chance.

“Ahh Sannie you made a mess!”, you cooed, seeing Wooyoung snap his head to you just as you reached across the table to swipe the offending condiment from his plush lip. 

Sitting back casually, you made eye contact with Wooyoung, his eyes holding a promise. You giggled at him and watched his eyes narrow, your finger quickly raising to your lips to suck the ketchup off of it. A throat clearing interrupted you, your eyes trailing over to the man across from you. Scanning the blush on Sans cheeks, you smiled happily, Wooyoung's hand finding a place on your thigh to squeeze it harshly. Your smile dropped enough for it to be casual, the hand on your thigh relaxing but staying in place as conversation picked up about one store or another. 

Your next opportunity came when you saw someone with the coolest jacket you had ever seen, your eyes lingering on them as they walked long enough for Wooyoung to take notice and follow your line of sight. He scoffed silently, tugging at your jacket to point at a window display with the shiniest dresses you had seen to date. With your attention successfully diverted, Wooyoungs’ hand on your lower back leads you into a separate store. Your thoughts were running wild with how to rile up your boyfriend even further when you realized, scanning through cute cardigans, that your tactics weren’t working properly. You would have to think harder.

You came up blank, your day at the mall going by peacefully until you tripped over your own feet while you were distracted by a window display. Your little trip up sent you face first into Sans solid chest, Wooyoung staring you down darkly as your hands pressed to Sans biceps to push yourself away. 

“I am so sorry Sannie! I don’t know how that happened!”, you sounded panicked, Wooyoungs’ eyes narrowing further.

San waved off your concerns easily, his hands patting your shoulders to console you as Wooyoung stared quietly. You turned to him shortly after, shaking your head, eyes holding a promise it wasn’t purposeful. Wooyoung wasn’t having it, his hand wrapping around yours as he pulls you closer to him.

“Let’s head home. We don’t need to be tripping over anything else.”, he chuckled, patting your head with his free hand.

You and San agreed, weaving through the people to get back out into the parking lot. Finding the car was slightly difficult, the distant beeping of the lock guiding the three of you in different directions until you found it, shouting for the boys as they found each other on the other side of the lot. You laughed at them while they jogged to the car, your face red as they huffed at you. Piling into the car, you started the drive back to the apartment, music blasting through the speakers as you all sang along, San’s dance movements small and precise in the small space. It sent you into a whole new round of laughter when he tried to do a kick jump in his seat. His head smacking the roof of the car with a thunk followed by the combined laughter of Wooyoung and yourself. The pout that graced Sans' pretty lips made you both coo, a blush coating his cheeks as he crossed his arms and stared out the window. 

The drive finished smoothly with some more karaoke after San was done his playful sulking, Wooyoung’s pokes to his side drawing him from it with giggles. Any giggles left you when you met your boyfriends eyes through the rear view mirror, the danger hiding in them setting your body on edge as you huffed a half laugh at something that San said, climbing out of the car with the two bags Wooyoung let you carry. You unlocked the front door quickly, Wooyoung urging you to go faster. Laughing, you opened the door and stepped aside, ushering the boys in. You closed the door behind you once they made it in in one piece. 

“Bags in the kitchen!”, you called after them, their footsteps fading slightly as they made their way to the kitchen.

Following them into the room, you landed a smack on Wooyoung’s ass as he bent over to look for a drink for San. His startled shout made you laugh with San, high-fiving him as you passed him to open a cupboard for a bag of chips to share. San stood awkwardly as you both moved around him, Wooyoung handing you a bowl for the chips after he pulled out the last case of beer he kept for when San was over at your place. 

“What did we decide on again?”, you turned to the boys once you were done emptying the bag into the bowl.

“Uhhh-“, San turned to Wooyoung who was opening three beers.

“Uh…”, he paused, tilting his head as he looked back at you and San, “I think it was The Avengers?”

You and San mirrored an “Ohhhh!” as you remembered the movie choice. Migrating to the living room, you observed the spots left on the couch until Wooyoung was tugging you down onto his lap. You scoffed lightly at his possessive action, San eyeing up the two of you slightly before he shrugged and focused on the screen. The movie went by without fault, snacks being passed around, cuddling into Wooyoung as he rested his chin on your shoulder… it was going so well… until you declared a bathroom break was needed and stood up from Wooyoung’s lap. You stretched with your arms above your head, a large yawn escaping you before you could stop, the boys focused on the exposed skin of your stomach.

One set of eyes leaving to watch the other’s unmoving gaze until he stood, Wooyoung placing a kiss on your head as he ushered you to the kitchen. San followed along blindly, clutching the empty bowl in his hands to drop it in the sink. Silence took over the room until you cleared your throat to interrupt your boyfriends one-sided staring contest with his best friend, slipping past them both when you were suddenly falling into San’s chest for the second time that day, your eyes widening as you pushed away from him quickly, his concern going unnoticed as you faced your boyfriend.

The smirk on his slightly chapped lips and the tsk that left them told you all you needed to know. You shook your head at him slightly and finished your journey to the washroom, doing your business quickly before nearly sprinting out of the door into a solid object. Staring up at Wooyoung, you shook your head again, hands on his chest as he watched you.

“I can’t believe you pushed me into him! It was an accident earlier! I promise-”

“Don’t think I don’t know your little games, pretty girl. I know exactly what you’re trying to get from me.”, he paused to whisper in your ear, sending chills down your spine, “All you had to do was ask.”

You don’t even get the chance to respond before he’s grasping your wrist and dragging you to your shared bedroom, a shout to San to come up in a few minutes following your stumbling steps. An affirmative, though hesitant, response from the boy hit your ears just as Wooyoung shoved you through the door. 

“Wooyo-”

“Wrong.”

“Woo-”

“Try again.”

“Wooyoung I swear to god-”

“Not bad but that was your last chance.”, his hands pushed between your shoulders til you tumbled onto the bed, his hands around your hips flipping you onto your back, “Address me properly or so help me…”

He leaned over you, eyes dark and piercing your soul as you whimpered under his gaze, “You’ll regret ever calling me anything other than Sir.”

You nodded quickly, small apologies tumbling from your lips as he disappeared into the closet, coming out with a locked box that was no longer locked. You realized at this moment you shouldn’t have even tried pleading your case. He wasn’t going to believe you anyways, and trying to bargain worsened your punishment. Seconds later, your hands cuffed to the headboard, Wooyoung back in the closet, San walked through the door. 

“What did you-”, he paused in the doorway, his eyes scanning your prone form and then the room for your boyfriend. 

Not finding him, the man looks at you in confusion, “Y/N? What-?”

You shushed him and beckoned him forwards, eyes desperate until Wooyoung appeared again with a happy look at seeing San. 

“Oh good! You made it just in time!”, the sound of fabric tearing made you wince as San gasped, turning away from your suddenly naked body, “Now now, Sannie. You were just looking at her skin so intently!”

He took measured steps to his best friend, grasping his chin and turning him in your direction as you squirmed against the sheets, “Now take. a. good. look.”

You whimpered at the heat of their gazes on your exposed skin, eyes begging with San until a stern look from Wooyoung had you intently focused on the blankets beneath you. 

“No, no. None of that. You don’t get to look at him. You did that enough today don’t you think? All over him just for my attention.”, he left San’s side to reach into his pocket, pulling out a handful of condoms that sealed your fate for the night, “That didn’t work like you wanted though, huh? Poor dumb little slut doesn’t get what she wants. How disappointing…”

He took a moment to set the condoms beside you mockingly, unbuckling his belt with precise motions that built tension in your core as you watched him, “For you.”

Everything happened in a blur after that. Wooyoungs’ belt being tied around your head, San being positioned in the desk chair at the end of the bed, Wooyoung stripping completely with a smirk on his face as he watches San squirm with his legs crossed. You whimpered around the belt as Wooyoung hovered above you, running his cock along your folds until you moaned with each brush of the head against your sensitive clit. You soon forgot about San with the pleasure clouding your mind, Wooyoung’s breathy groans in your ear ruining any thought of brattiness you had for the moment. Your mind cleared completely as he thrusted into you with one motion, each vein on his cock leaving you whining as you felt them drag against the wet walls of your cunt. Your moans only grew in volume as Wooyoung thrusted into you faster, deeper, reaching depths of you that you felt like only he could. His moans spurred you on to meet his thrusts until his hands slammed down on your hips to keep you still with a low grunt in your ear.

“I would suggest not moving, baby.”

You whined but nodded, drool dripping from around his belt between your teeth, soaking the material and leaving a trail on your skin that Wooyoung gathered with his fingers to bring down to your clit, rubbing the sensitive bundle of nerves in fast circles. Your pussy clenching around him sending him to new heights with his best friend watching. You whined even louder, moans cutting off your breaths until you pleaded with Wooyoung through the belt, his raised eyebrow shooting a spark of arousal straight to your clit. The moan you let slip at that point was pornographic, San’s small grunts just reaching your ears as you tugged on the restraints keeping you from touching your boyfriend in the way you wanted. 

“What’s that, pet? You wanna say something?”

You nodded quickly, moving your hips slightly to get him to move faster as he tugged the belt from between your lips.

“Please!”, you panted for breath now that you could take proper ones, “Sannie! Untie-”

The sound registered before the feeling, the stinging of your cheek coinciding with the sound that echoed through the room. 

“What did you just say?”, Wooyoung stopped his thrusts abruptly, “Did my cocksleeve just call out for another man as I was fucking it? Nooo no, I must be mistaken.”

You inhaled sharply as you realized what you said, your lips parting as you started to stutter over your apology. Another slap cut you off, your head facing the wall with the force of it as you clenched around him. 

“I would suggest you repeat yourself right now, love. I don’t want to have to ask twice.”

“I-...I’m-... Sannie-”, you cut yourself off when Wooyoung raised his eyebrow, “I mean… I wasn’t-”

“Spit. It. Out.”, he accentuated each word with a thrust that had you grasping at the restraints around your wrists.

“Sannie! Untie me!”, you gasped out.

The silence in the room was suffocating as Wooyoung pulled out of you quickly, not giving you time to savor the sensations of him in your for the last moments.You whimpered at the emptiness in your core, clenching around nothing as you watched Wooyoung stand, his expression blank. 

“San. Come here.”

San moved quickly, nearly tripping over his own feet in his haste to follow his best friend's orders. 

“Do you think my little slut deserves to be untied? Just so she can touch me?”, Wooyoung ran his hand along San’s broad chest as he stuttered for an answer, “She called for you, didn’t you hear? She wants your help.”

He pushes him towards the bed, “So help her.”

You share a slightly confused glance with San, watching Wooyoung stare the two of you down until he snapped his finger, making you jump slightly.

“Move faster. She clearly wants your help, Sannie~”

San nodded slowly and reached up to undo your restraints until Wooyoung's hands covered his, “No. Not like that.”

You and San shared properly confused glances now, eyes darting between each other and your boyfriend as he laughed mockingly, “Two dumb little pets. How fun!”

Wooyoung nearly dragged San onto the bed, ripping his clothes as he had yours, making you both gasp as he pushed him down onto you. The only indication of something happening was the slight brush of Wooyoung’s hand across your clit after the crinkling of the condom wrapper ceased. You and San whined in unison as suddenly he was pushing into you, your boyfriend's pretty hand on his hip telling you San wasn’t even in control of the situation. 

“You do know how to fuck, right?”, Wooyoung laughed as San frowned at the jab, his hips suddenly moving into yours much faster and with much more force behind them, “There we go. I knew you could fuck her right~”

You moaned at each thrust, hands grasping at air as Wooyoung laughed at you, landing a slap on your thigh as San fucked you with everything in him. His cock stretched you more than Wooyoungs’ did but you didn’t dare say anything to compliment the man in that moment, instead moaning loudly as you held eye contact with your lover. The smirk on his face and the hand stroking over his cock as he watched you be pounded into the mattress made you whimper, eyes rolling back as you felt San twitch inside you just enough to brush over that special spot. 

“Aweeee.”, Wooyoung cooed at your reaction, “Keep doing that Sannie. She loves it, look at her! Can barely even keep her whore mouth shut.”

“Maybe you should fill it then.”, San spoke up for the first time, shocking both of you until you nodded happily and opened your mouth for Wooyoung to slide into, moans escaping you still. 

“Good boy, Sannie. I knew you would have some great ideas somewhere in there!”, Wooyoung crawled up to kneel by your open mouth, giving you a small moment to savor his taste until he was thrusting into your mouth like he was fucking your pussy. 

San moaned out a small thank you that made Wooyoung laugh until he saw your expression change, San’s moans turning to a higher pitch as you tightened around him with your impending orgasm. 

“Is the poor baby gonna cum around my friends cock? Hm?”, he pulled out from your mouth, leaving your tongue chasing it pathetically as he laughed and leaned down to brush some hair behind your ear, “You don’t get to cum.”

San stopped at those words, pulling his own cock from you with a strangled moan. You whined at the loss of attention, Wooyoung’s look turning dark once more as he sat beside San between your spread legs. 

“You really thought you were going to cum after those little stunts you pulled today? Think again.”, he turned to San, pulling him into a kiss as he pulled the condom from his twitching cock.

You watched silently with pleading eyes as Wooyoung wrapped his hands around himself and San, tugging on their cocks quickly with just enough pressure that made San whine. His eyes met yours, both of you looking fucked out, and he tumbled over the edge, his cum landing in thick ropes over your abused pussy and Wooyoungs’ hand. Your boyfriend moaned at the sight, pushing his cock back into you just as he came, the warmth spreading through your body as you closed your eyes. 

“Gooood fucking girl. Taking my cum like a champ.”, you huffed out a playful breath at his choice of words, your pussy aching for release you knew would never come. 

The feeling of Wooyoung’s lips brushing over your ear startled you, your eyes snapping open to make eye contact with San as the boy flushed prettily at your attention, “Maybe next time, throw yourself on Hongjoong.”

[trenchgardens-ooc-ooc-ooc-ooc]

He is Going to activate the turrets in your room and you WILL be filled with bullets.

he has clothes for basically all the reasons you do, protection from damage like superficial scratches, though as yk a robot, he cant heal from them, protection from the elements, though specifically aimed at heat and wetness rather than cold and heat like humans do. Sebastian helped him by finding an expendable's suit thatd fit, and altering it with the holes for his webcams and removing the part that was fucking up his nobs dials sliders buttons and switches of which he has many. he wears a lighter cloak over all of this, only excluding the webcams and his head covered in a hood, because he needs one of those to see and the other to express. The cloak traps a lot of heat but it protects him from drips and splashes, and he can lift it up to vent air.

go my painter <3

[rowanthestrange]

Ok, time to push the theme sliders around based on our new data and see what waveforms we get. So this week’s new things we should restructure around: the Rani, Old!Susan, and in meta the biggest bombshell - knowledge we have 2 more series ahead.

So two more series, we can probably assume we don’t have to wrap up everything. We can slow stuff down, have to hit fewer points. We don’t need to wrap up the Doctor and Susan. Maybe Belinda’s his kid or maybe a mirror, but we don’t have to be done by the end of this two-parter necessarily (and we Ninth Word believe in a special anyway), we have possible room to breathe.

Add your own bullet points to this scratch pad if you want, I’m probably missing themes and interplay.

Now the Rani:

-Hard science - fascinating choice to have in a story where science is being warped by magic.

-She herself is a duality. Literally.

-Is this an internal conflict or has she accepted it and gone “magic is simply sufficiently advanced science, which makes me the strongest witch alive”.

-She is not a Pantheon member, so that has to play in separately. Is this going to end up Rogues Versus Pantheon for the universe, devas vs. asuras style while the Doctor goes ‘uh, humans please’. Or is that her goal to attain that status? She does love playing god after all, it’s basically her whole thing.

-a Flood wiping out the world recreate from pairs?

-If Mrs Flood was cosplaying old characters, has she watched the show?

-Her prior goal has been to build and grow her own species. We have a child theme. We have the Timeless Child(ren). We have Space Babies. We’ve got a lot of uh-ohs.

-The Rani ships the Doctor and Master to the extent she cares about them at all, seems to find whatever hatefucking thing they’ve got going on funny. We have a Thoschei relationship theme.

-Ushas is the Hindu god of the dawn, we’ve got a sun and moon theme, Chandra is Hindu god of the moon etc.

Master offshoot:

-Should the Master appear? Well on one hand you could argue the Rani should get her eye in as an independent character. But on the other, we didn’t do that before and she’s fun solely because of her relationship with both of them.

-It seems impossible at this point that we won’t have the Master be/have been/will become a bigeneration.

Susan:

-Is going to turn up and is probably the end goal - going back and connecting with her again. Sure that was our assumption before but we’ve got it basically confirmed.

-Showed up as he was dying/having a mental health moment torturing a Master-mirror with a taser. Got him back on track.

-Reminds the audience that she exists and is a goal and that there were mysteries there and his kid etc. right? 

[bigboyplaya]

ik some people don't like hearing anything slightly critical of Saints Row 2 but there's just so many minor/missable details and small things in Saints Row 1 that makes it feel like it had "more" love put into it in comparison.

The activities introductory cutscenes

The running animations

Reload while sprinting

Keeping your weapons even when they're empty

The hijack animation where Playa shoots the driver and drags them out actually using 1 bullet from the gun

The lighting/graphics

The art style and NPC models

Barber shops

Hair length slider (God that was cool)

There is less overall sliders in the character creator, but things like rotating your mouth and nose to have them crooked was a nice little thing to have.

The option to roll your pants in multiple different ways among other ways to wear your clothes

just the style of the clothes in general and the way it hangs off Playa definitely leans into the hip-hop/90-00's era more than the weirdly clingy and modeled clothes in Saints Row 2.

The metro system

Sitting in the back of the taxi (this one might be a bit subjective but I just find it strange that Playa sidles on up to the driver in the passenger seat like they know the driver personally lmao)

Robbing stores

Hijacking. Surprisingly, it's the least frustrating Saints Row 1 activity since Forgive and Forget makes it a breeze on the later levels. It's also more fun than Chop Shop imo.

The way there is just random walls and dead ends in the city. I know there's a reason for it, dev's just didn't know what to put since it was their first open world, but it kinda adds to the sketchy urban vibe Stilwater was going for. IDK if i'm explaining it well, but I guess I could also just that some parts of Stilwater make me feel like I'd legitimately get mugged or stabbed there irl lol.

Stores closing and opening at normal hours.

LOTS more drugs that actually did something other than distort the screen.

The hip-hop and RnB influence and culture was VERY prominent in Saints Row 1, which coincidentally, is a genre of music I do like. I didn't get any vibe from Saints Row 2 to be honest. The clear inspiration in SR1 sort of made the theming of everything coherent, in a sense, and it all aesthetically slotted together rather neatly. SR2 is a little more jumbled, imo. All the gangs are independent of each other, like in a secluded area restricted to their hoods where they don't interact with each other at all. I don't remember the Brotherhood shooting at Ronin or Samedi, or vice versa. I don't even think the three gangs are even seen together at the same time lmao.

There are many things Saints Row 2 does better, but like I said before, it's the little things like these that make it seem like there was TLC put into every inch of the game. I feel like with SR2 they were so focused on adding "more" and making it "bigger" that they forgot about the cool, small details that add a touch of immersion. I could do without the plethora of new activities and just have updated and nerfed older ones (including Hijacking), and idk lose most of the clothing options just to have ones that I can wear however I want to.

i mean, i still play saints row 2 but i'll always end up back in Saints Row 1's Stilwater eventually.

Also, to add, Saints Row 1 was the LAST SR game I played (before the reboot released obviously lol) so I don't have any nostalgia for it. if anything, I should have nostalgia for Saints Row 2, but i try to be "unbiased" when talking about my favourite games so I don't let nostalgia factor in the slightest bit during my critiques and praises. I try to actually review things "objectively" (but preferences do factor in if u know what i'm trying to say lol)

[bowsbar]

thoughts on finale: entirely serviceable if not eyeroll inducing at some parts and hair-pullingly obtuse at others. i dont like box existing but 1. everyone saw it coming from a mile away and 2. for a show with intentions (in the later stages of its production and writing) to tie up all loose ends and explain everything logically it would make no sense to Not explain box in some capacity and the explanation they did give works fine. i have no issues with box as a character shes cute i liked her interactions with suitcase oomf is obsessed with sinjin drowning it all works out.. buttt it is that second bullet that wears at me like chronic back pain in a more general sense relating to ii. ive talked about it before, its the evolution of ideals with where the writers want to take the show. i feel like ii works best either when its Being goofy (early ii2 is peak) or when its taking itself extremely seriously (ii14 was good), but they try to mesh those two extremes into one being and it does not work whatsoever. you can watch the slider go from one extreme to the other going from season 1 to ii2 finale. Theres really no cure to this, the conditions they evidently worked under of We must make it serious and We cannot retcon past episodes created what we got and While there is so much i can nitpick and a lot of things i dislike about it, when looking at it as a whole i think the final product is.. serviceable. ii's writing is a victim of circumstance, with the circumstance being A passion project stretched across more than a decade of production that (keyly) started when the creators were children. i just wish something ive spent so many hours thinking about and talking about and bonding with others over and creating fanart for had a more solid foundation. i appreciate what it is while simultaneously mourning what couldntve been. i hope that makes sense

[the-hinky-panda]

The Winter Series: Part I

Title: The Winter Series

Pairing: Aramis x OFC (written as a reader)

Rating: Explicit

Summary: Aramis is making good on his promise to God to become a monk. At least he's trying to make good on that promise. But you burst on the scene, a French spy from across the border of Spain with all sorts of temptations to lead him astray.

Taglist: @bullet-prooflove @kmc1989, @trublu2u, @nsr-15

It’s been two months since Aramis has arrived at the monastery and he’s beginning to think that this is a monumental mistake. The first month he threw himself into this new life. First one to prayers, helping in the kitchens, studying scriptures outside and enjoying the birdsong, tending the small garden. He felt at peace, confident in his decision to be here. 

That feeling doesn’t last as he enters into the second month. The birds are grating on his nerves. The fresh air is irritating to his nose. The prayers are repetitive and his mind wanders more and more. To the war, to his friends…to the Queen, to his son. He longs for the feel of his sword in his hand, the smooth grip of his pistol, the excitement of the fight. At least he had felt useful as a Musketeer, actively righting the world’s wrongs instead of just praying for things to change. 

That is why when the Abbot asked for someone to pick up supplies from the town below the monastery, Aramis was the first one to volunteer. It wasn’t exciting at all, just a collection of vegetables, eggs, and grain but it gave him an opportunity to see the bustling life of the common man. The village wasn’t far from a port town close to the Spanish border. The marketplace was better supplied than most given that proximity to a port, so it was always fascinating to see the handmade trinkets or foods that would never make it up to Paris. 

“Stop her!” 

Every instinct as a trained soldier flares to life at the shout that echoes across the marketplace. Aramis sees the culprit fleeing, ducking around vendors, before making a sprint to an old stone church. Three men follow close at your heels and Aramis joins in the chase before he remembers this isn’t his business any more. But that hesitation only lasts a moment before he makes his way to the back door of the church. Where else is he going to find a bit of excitement? Certainly not back at the monastery delivering food. Besides, you could be in need of help and what kind of monk would that make him if he didn’t offer help to those in need? 

When he comes through the back door, he sees four men now, armed with pistols and swords. They’re dressed in plain clothes, Spanish clothes, but their movements are most certainly that of soldiers. He stays hidden behind the table of candles, half of which are lit when he sees the confessional box on the other side of the sanctuary. A confessional that has a tip of a cloak peeking out from under the curtain. 

The door opens and two more men come in and start conversing in Spanish at the back. He catches phrases, I saw her come in here, Not too many places to hide, Confessional…

Aramis goes around the back of the dias and is able to reach the priest’s side of the confessional. So far, he can’t see any priest on that side of the box and there’s no whispered conversations happening. He takes the opportunity and slips into the confessional, quietly closing the door behind him. He hears a sharp intake of breath from the other side but there are no other sounds. You must be sitting as still as death to warrant not so much as a creak from the old wood bench. With a deep breath, he pulls back the slider that reveals the latticed window into your side of the box. 

“Your cloak is peeking out from under the curtain.” 

He hears the soft rustle of fabric as you pull it into the confessional. “Thank you. Uh, forgive me Father for I have sinned-” 

“I’m sure you have but that’s not why I’m here.” He can’t see much of your features but he can see your eyes, wide with surprise and a color caught between blue and gray. 

“You’re not a priest?” 

How to answer that question. “I’m afraid that’s a bit complicated at the moment but I can assure you that I’m not the one to give you absolution for your sins. There are six men, Spanish from the looks of it, out in the vestibule. Why are they here?” 

“You’re a soldier.” 

“In another lifetime. But I can still help you.” 

You take half a heartbeat to answer. “Do you know the innkeeper here, Jean Luc Moreau?” 

“I’m fairly new, I don’t know anyone yet.” 

“I was supposed to meet him but when I went by the inn, it was filled with Spanish,” you pause, “visitors.” 

“Soldiers.” You don’t say anything and that silence tells Aramis everything he needs to know. “You’re a French spy.” 

“I just need to wait for them to leave so I can deliver the letters to Moreau. He has someone who’s going to take them back to Paris but they’re not arriving until tomorrow afternoon.” 

“So we have some time to hide you.” Aramis starts planning an escape route but the sound of the Spanish soldiers outside the confessional interrupt him. “Stay in here, no matter what.” 

He steps out of the confessional and greets the soldiers that are circling the confessional. “Greetings, gentlemen. I’m afraid I’m the only Priest available at the moment, so if you would please just take a seat, we will be done momentarily.” 

“We’re not here for forgiveness,” the largest of the group says in heavily accented French. “We’re looking for a runaway.” 

“Ah, I’m afraid we haven’t had any children arrive-” 

“Not a child,” another man says, tall and blade thin. “A woman. Her father is in high standing, she was betrothed to a nobleman. We fear she may have gotten nervous about the marriage.” 

Aramis lays a hand over his heart. “I shouldn’t reveal anything about a parishioner’s confession, but I can assure you the lady currently in there is already married. And not much of a lady.” 

“We would like to wait to make sure it is not our master’s daughter, if you don’t mind.” 

“Of course,” Aramis bows respectfully. There’s little he can do facing down six Spanish soldiers with no weapons other than his hands. He’ll have to rely on his brain then and hopefully some luck. As he goes back around to the priest’s entrance of the confessional, he runs into one of the priests. He immediately puts a finger to his mouth and the priest’s surprise turns quickly to understanding. Aramis tells him quickly about your plight and the need to get you to safety. He nods, telling Aramis to stay there safely out of sight of the six men who are now sitting in the pews. When he returns, he has a set of nun’s robes and he unlatches a false door that opens the confessor’s side of the box. 

It’s the first clear sight Aramis has had of you. You’re dressed in simple clothing, no jewelry. Your dark hair is braided and coiled at the base of your neck and your eyes, still that odd coloration, are even larger without the lattice barrier between you two. You’re scared, but your mouth is pressed in a firm line. It’s not your first tight spot, Aramis bets, but it’s definitely an alarming one nonetheless. The priest hands you the nun’s clothes. 

“Dress in these and leave your clothes in the confessional,” he whispers to you. “I’ll have one of the sisters wear your clothes out of here.” 

“You have a way for us to exit?” Aramis asks. 

“Yes,” the priest answers. “Take her up to the monastery with you. Dressed as one of our sisters, no one will say anything.” 

“Thank you, Father,” you say as you take the robes. 

Aramis touches the Priest’s arm. “Yes, thank you.” 

He closes the door so you can change privately. “Mademoiselle Sartre is a friend to our parish and this town. See that she remains safe.” 

“I will.” 

The hidden door opens again and you appear now in the simple nun robes. The priest points to the side hallway and Aramis pulls his hood up over his head. The two of you hurry through the side hallway and open the back door to the church, bringing you directly into the graveyard. Aramis lightly touches your elbow. 

“Keep your head down, leave the watchfulness to me.” 

“Alright.” 

Thankfully the food order had already been acquired so making their way back to the horse and wagon is a quick and efficient process. He helps you up into the front seat before climbing up himself. 

“Take a pass by the inn on the way out of town.”  

He nods and turns the horse in that direction. The innkeeper, Moreau, is standing outside the door feigning interest in the shoppers passing by. When his eyes land on the cart, you lay a hand on your heart. He responds similarly. 

“Do you want me to stop?” 

“No, keep going.” You turn your eyes forward again and Moreau goes back inside the tavern. “He knows I’ll return tomorrow. Besides, I don’t want to put him in danger of having the documents with the Spanish soldiers still around.” 

“Understandable. I’ll return with you tomorrow just in case our Spanish friends are still in town.” 

“That’s not necessary. I don’t want to put you in any more danger than I already have.” 

“I do have to say,” Aramis gives the town one last glance over his shoulder to make sure no one is following them, “today was a nice jolt of excitement.” 

You give him a smile, albeit a slight one. “You are the strangest monk I’ve ever come across.” 

“You will find no argument from me.” 

[sh00ter-bah]

Hiii! Could I please get a large pack with a knife, a gun, and bullets? I’d like a mixtive of C!Quackity (dsmp) and Cc!Quackity, with older brother figure vibes. I’d like them to be permavictim and trisgroomed please!! Ty!! - @sleepy-space-bah

⏝⏝　꒰　Quackity Mixtive Alter Pack　꒱

⇨⠀ ⠀ﾉ Names : Alexander , Ajax , Alan , Alex , Aaron , Elias , Elijah

⇨⠀ ⠀ﾉ Pronouns : he / him , they / them , it / its , dice / dices , thing / things , bro / bros

⇨⠀ ⠀ﾉ Age : 14 - 18 age slider

⇨⠀ ⠀ﾉ Gender : TransMasc , Agender

⇨⠀ ⠀ﾉ Orientation: Biromantic without pref , Asexual

⇨⠀ ⠀ﾉ Sign off : ��🥤

⇨⠀ ⠀ﾉ Aesthetic :

⇨⠀ ⠀ﾉ Favorite color : Red

⇨⠀ ⠀ﾉ Quirks : loves skating , protective towards the younger people inside and outside of the system.

⇨⠀ ⠀ﾉ Speech : uses "like" a lot when speaking , voice is soothing and brings a sense of protectiveness.

⇨⠀ ⠀ﾉ CisIDs : smoker , big brother figure , gambler

⇨⠀ ⠀ﾉ TransIDs : TransAddiction , TransUnderweight , TransCool , TransPainless

⇨⠀ ⠀ﾉ Paras : 🧸🚸🌠🔫

⇨⠀ ⠀ﾉ Handwriting :

[eyeris-moni]

Couple of questions here what do you mean cupid shot him with his magic bullet like an actual bullet or a metaphorical one?

And if cupid hadn't would slenderman be a entirely different person?

Also why did cupid (if he did actually shoot slenderman) shoot him?

🫡

1) Actual bullets, but they're made of his own magic!

Cupid has the ability to take his emotions of love, manifest them into bullets, and then shoot people with his gun.

He is a horror to humans, stalking those who have the potential for intense love, then shoots them to 'help nudge them along (:'

However, Cupid's emotion is just way too potent and though he can scale it down, he refuses. So he ends up making a bunch of people so sick with love they either kill others or get themselves killed. Or both!

Fhrey Winters, my OC, is a rare case of a victim that has managed to survive and stay somewhat stable!

2) Speaking of "potential", Cupid can only push sliders that are there.

So, say a person is aromantic. If Cupid shoots them, they won't feel romance. However, love is broad and comes to us in many ways. A family member, a friend, a hobby. If Cupid shoots you and you love your hobby, you might get absolutely obsessed with that instead!

This means in essence, Slender always had the ability to love as much as he does now. Cupid couldn't make Slender feel something he else wouldn't.

I do think that had Cupid not shot him, Slender might not have explored his feelings as they are now. For long, he lived just fine not being emotionally close with many. But he clearly still had some sort of friendship with Cupid back even then.

I personally consider that Cupid's bullet trigged the potential Slender had, that he likely would never have given a chance (because he was convinced he didn't feel any kind of love at all).

Who knows, had Cupid not shot him but stayed friends, it could've come naturally too at some point. It did take a long time too though - the effects weren't instantaneous, nor maddening to Slender, indicating that his range for love back then was much smaller and that it might've changed 🤷

3) Cupid wouldn't have shot Slender just out curiosity or selfishness, even back then. They were good friends (in Cupid's eyes at least!)

My HC so far is that it went something like:

____

Slender: --since I do not feel affection.

Cupid: You say that with such confidence you must believe it to be so...

Slender: This is the second time you've insinuated otherwise. That's false, I think I would know my emotions.

Cupid: Well I am the love expert and I say I feel something.

(Long pause)

Slender: Hm, okay. Shoot me.

Cupid: *amused chuckle* Shoot you, you say.

Slender: Your magic only works on me if I have the ability. So you can shoot me, and we shall see that nothing happens.

Cupid: *extremely amused* You're right. Alright, I'll shoot you.

____

And then nothing seemed to really happen for a while, and once it did, and Slender realized it (likely triggered by some kind of supernatural being needing help), Slender got displeased about it.

Slender then builds the mansion later, to actually be able to shelter others (because of his newfound worry, or as Cupid would call it: 'love for other beings').

And it's kinda why Slender doesn't allow Cupid to stay over for long periods of times, because

1) he does care about others now and he has seen and heard others reaction to Cupid's bullets.

2) he's kinda miffed about being shot. Mostly about Cupid being right though. But also about Cupid knowing, and shooting him, especially since they were friends. But also still mostly about Cupid being right, because yeah he did agree to it and even maybe suggested it.

[cosmere-powers-tourney]

Bendalloy Mistings, also called Sliders, can speed up time in a bubble around themselves, allowing anyone in the bubble to move and react supernaturally fast. The borders of the bubble have an interesting effect, causing bullets to deflect slightly on impact. Bendalloy is a Temporal External Pushing metal, the counterpart to Cadmium.

Gold Mistings, also called Augurs, can see into their own past. Visual representations of themselves appear, looking how they might have looked had things gone differently in their past. Gold is a Temporal Internal Pulling metal, the counterpart to Electrum.

Vote by whatever criteria you'd like, and be sure to check out the other match-ups!

[spiderb0mb]

★彡 ARCANE DR INTRODUCTION

WARNING - do not keep reading if you are not a shifter

»» ────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────── ««

✦ Father was a useless man (as they all are), mother was a vision of curiosity and wonder. Within her she held a powerful magic that drew people in, her outward appearance matched the interior with a curious spotted pattern and rounded ears poking out the top of her head. She was a Vastaya, a beautiful and fierce creature.

Sevika and my mother were very close (like mother like daughter) and together they did their best to raise me along with doing whats best for Zaun. Unfortunately, this ambition for Zauns freedom took my mother from me, leaving Sevika with me.

✸ Sevika was a frequent at the bar 'The Last Drop', always bringing me along with her to keep an eye on me. I quickly grew close to the two kids my age that hung around there, powder and ekko. I would often sleep over and spend all day at that bar, and sevika wouldnt complain. Me and Powder were attached at the hip, never apart. We did everything together; crafting, pranking, even adopting a little puppy together.

When Sevika betrayed Vander, I didnt speak to her for weeks. I couldnt do anything to stop anything. I watched the explosion go off. I watched as Vi was dragged away by an enforcer. I watched and cried silently as Sevikas stump was badly sewn up by amateur doctors.

★ My upbringing after that was anything but conventional. Once Vander was gone I really didn't have a stable family. Sevikas lifestyle was not at all compatible with raising a child, going out to casinos and bars almost every night. To offload some of the work, she would often leave me to stay with either chembaron Margot and her child, or let me sleep over with powder/jinx. Margot always weaseled me into doing chores for her, so I preferred powder. We were so close that Silco would often request I stay over just to keep Powder happy.

Just like Powder, I grew up to be a criminal. It wasnt intentional, I just so happened to be in that circle. Jinx insisted I went on missions with her, and when I got older Silco suggested I use the dog I was so fond of to track down some men that owed him money. This ended with me earning the reputation of being Silcos hound dog (even though im a kitty cat).

»» ────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────── ««

✦ Weapons

Gun - a small handgun with a rotating bullet canister. Three types of bullets, homing, taser, marker

Homing bullets hit their target no matter how they are shot. Taser bullets intensity can be altered using a slider on the side of the gun. Marker bullets latch onto whatever they hit. They can either act as gps markers or, when activated, produce a high pitched sound so my dogs can find them for me.

Axe - A double edged battle axe handed down to me from my mother. It sort of folds out (think heather rtte).

Saws - Small handheld saws.

Rifle - Tank rifle, can shoot through walls and thick metal. Super heavy, and bolted down to the roof.

✸ Misc Inventions

Swarm Assemblers - Yes I did steal this from avatar, they basically rebuilt the warehouse I do all my mad science in. Planning on using these bad boys to revamp the water and ventilation systems for Zaun.

Cameras - No not the crappy polaroids cait had, real cameras I can monitor from my hideout.

Batteries - Run on nuclear fusion, yes I did steal this from iron man dont even. Varying sizes of disc shaped batteries I can slot into any of my inventions.

»» ────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────── ««

Thanks for reading!

[arctic-space-penguin]

Second BTH Bingo ficcccc!! - Attempted Murder - 2152 words

Read the previous one too if you haven't!

---

Donnie rolled his eyes. "Scoff. Always with the Hawaiian."

Leo swallowed. "Shut up, it's good and you weren't here to say otherwise."

Donnie folded his arms and pointedly looked away. Leo just finished the slice he was on and grabbed another. Donnie glanced at him from time to time, but mostly glared at the table.

Okay, Leo had had enough.

"Dude, just take the pineapple off," the slider suggested. "I'm not gonna let you go home hungry."

"Taking the pineapple off doesn't mean it's not Hawaiian anymore," Donnie argued.

"But it literally does," Leo sighed.

"Can't you just let me get my own or something?" Donnie asked.

Leo narrowed his eyes. "You know what? No, I'm not. You either take a slice and remove the pineapple or we go home and I make Mikey cook you your least favorite food to have instead."

"Fine, fine! Just this once, I will have a slice and take the pineapple off," Donnie relented.

"That's what I thought," Leo smirked.

Donnie really didn't want to. He took one of the last two slices and slowly but surely made sure every piece of pineapple was gone. Leo groaned at his pace and slammed his forehead down on the table. Donnie side-eyed him as he took his first bite... Okay, he would admit it wasn't terrible, but he still hated it. His twin looked up right as he finished the first one.

"You done yet?"

"Once I have this one I will be," Donnie reached for the last slice.

"Go faster this time, alright? Raph and Mikey won't like it if we're late getting home."

Donnie hummed... and took his sweet time. Leo rolled his eyes.

"You are enjoying this way too much," he commented.

"Annoying you?" Donnie quipped. "Yeah, I am."

The softshell finished a minute later. Leo got up the second he did. Donnie had to jog to catch up. They left Hueso's, immediately heading towards home but staying on the street with the few people still out this late. Bad idea number one.

Donnie took his phone out to scroll instead of listen to Leo talk. Bad idea number two. Who knew you didn't walk as fast when you were on your phone? Not him, that's for sure.

They came out too fast for Donnie to react. One, probably the leader, got his hand over the mutant's mouth before he could scream. Of course, as all normal New Yorkers do, any bystanders either ran away with frightened looks or completely ignored the situation. And Leo? Well, Leo didn't even look back.

Donnie squirmed enough to get his teeth around the guy's hand and bite. They growled, but didn't let go, continuing to drag him deeper into the alley. Well, that's not good. Donnie tried again and thankfully this time they cried out in anger and let go. He immediately darted to get away.

"L--!"

He tried to call to Leo.

The shot rang out louder.

He yelped as pain bloomed up his left leg. He stumbled and fell, quickly checking to make sure the bullet hadn't gone through. It had only grazed his thigh over his stripe.

Oh thank Pizza Supreme.

The four other guys, he noticed now, had blocked his path anyway. He wasn't getting out of this. Leo was probably long gone too. The leader slowly approached from the opposite, blocked end of the alley. Donnie wished he could shrink away. They looked so terrifying, shadow cast up on the right wall. Once they reached him, they bent over to get to his level.

Donnie leaned back as much as he could. Not enough.

"Grab him and follow me," they studied him a second longer.

One of the bigger, stronger guys behind him hauled him to his feet. He sagged to try to make it harder, but they just squeezed harder, getting a huff out of him, and dragged.

The leader led them all to the back of the alley, pushing the piece of wood to the side. Donnie was shoved through first, just to be grabbed again. They half-dragged half-carried him to a door and opened it. Then they let him go. The softshell was confused until a solid kick was landed on his back and he tumbled into the room beyond. Ten more people glanced his way and started whispering among themselves.

"Look what we caught wandering our territory, fellas!" the leader's voice rang out.

Donnie hissed and backed away when someone got too close. He bumped into legs. Not Good™. Whoever it was kicked him away. He nervously glanced around at all the people glaring at him with threatening fists in palms before landing on the leader. A rage pooled deep in his chest, only growing stronger the longer he stared at him.

This was that guy's fault he was here. His fault Leo wasn't.

In the spur of the moment, the softshell leaped to his feet and rushed at the guy. Hands grabbed his arms and held him fast before he could reach... whatever his name was. Had he even said it? Donnie struggled against everyone holding him back. The leader just smirked. Then one of them grabbed his face as leverage. Fortunately, it was close enough for him to bite. He did just that.

They yelped and let go. The leader narrowed his eyes and growled. His hand shot forward and wrapped around Donnie's throat. Everyone else backed off. Donnie gasped and clawed at the hand fiercely.

Donnie heard a faint cheer that grew louder and louder of "Tony! Tony! Tony!", flooding his ears with the unpleasant sound. The hand tightened, albeit barely. There was no way he wasn't turning purple right now. The leader shoved him down to the floor a second later. Donnie gulped in air, a hand at his throat just in case. 'Tony' didn't wait for him to catch his breath before crouching in front of him.

"You wanna know what we do with freaks invading our part of town?" Tony asked, rough voice not even attempting to conceal the threat.

Donnie ignored him, eyes watering, still trying to regulate his breaths. Tony's hand shot forward again, and he flinched hard, but it only grabbed his chin to force him to look in the man's direction.

"We kill them," Tony spat and it landed right next to Donnie's hurt leg, releasing his chin with a push backwards for emphasis.

The softshell whimpered. He was allowed to be scared now.

He'll never get to see his brothers again. It was over. Leo was long gone and had no idea where he was. It. Was. Over. A fact, no longer a question.

Donnie's eyes flicked from knife to spare hammer to gun in each man's hands. The first one to lunge he barely dodged. The second he backed into getting away from the first and a boot landed right on his right hand. He cried out and pulled to try to free it, but the man in the boot just put more weight onto that leg. This had just started and he was already trapped. Good going, Donatello, now you really are screwed.

Three men took advantage of his weakness first, wielding two knives and a hammer respectively. Donnie tried again to free himself, but that just made it hurt more. A knife pierced his left arm and he screamed. It was quickly dislodged and another was dug into his wide open right leg right above his knee. He screamed even louder. The boot finally lifted and he practically threw himself backwards away from his previous attackers... Just for a sixth join in.

Donnie blocked his face.

The knife dug into his wrist.

He wouldn't give them the satisfaction of a third scream.

It came out and the man backed away. Donnie was confused for a split second before four of the obviously strongest guys, including the one that had dragged him here in the first place, came forward and grabbed his wrists and ankles to hold him up. Someone else pulled chains down from the ceiling. Donnie weakly pulled against the guys when he realized. They secured the chains around his wrists, one digging into his most recent stab, and backed off.

Throws were almost instant. Knives and hammers both clattering to the ground around him, some being retrieved for a second try. Some landed the first time around, lodging themselves into all over his body. He couldn't hold back his scream his time. Some laughed in sickening satisfaction when it came.

Donnie wanted to go home.

Eventually, people slowly abandoned their throwing game when they got bored. Donnie felt a rush of relief every time it happened. His head was hung from exhaustion and blood loss at this point, the dark red, sticky liquid coming from what he assumed was minimum twenty lacerations over his body combined. They left him hanging there limply.

"--ow the hammer," Tony hissed.

Donnie squeezed his eyes shut. Nothing happened.

"Throw it!" Tony commanded much louder.

Donnie braced himself. The hammer colliding with the side of his head still hurt.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Donnie's conscious came back two hours later. How he didn't die, he had no idea.

He didn't dare move, but glanced around. His ankle was chained to a bar, something weighed heavy on his face, and he thinks he's in a cage or crate of some sort.

And Leo wasn't here.

Which meant he didn't know where Donnie was.

Which meant no one was coming for him.

Which meant he was going to die here.

Donnie subconsciously let out a small, pathetic whimper. He just wanted to go home, but apparently fate had other plans.

"Ayo, Tony. Thing woke up, come see," a voice on his left said.

Donnie curled into himself as much as he could. Anyone but Tony.

The man appeared anyway. Donnie went limp. Tony reached through the bars and poked his face, arms, anywhere it would hurt. He barely cracked open an eye.

"Surprised it's not dead," Tony murmured. "Should we have done more?"

No response that Donnie could hear. The softshell had given in at this point. If he was to die, so be it.

Destiny was stronger than fate.

The door to the room exploded into splinters. Donnie heard it, but couldn't see it, couldn't get himself to open his eyes again. Unfortunate. Tony stormed away from the cage. Donnie felt more tears flow without permission.

Two familiar sparks in his chest. He sobbed. He sobbed while people were thrown against walls. He sobbed while his saviors were injured. He sobbed while revenge was gotten for him. He sobbed while Tony was beaten the lights out of. He sobbed when it was over. It drained his energy. His wounds seemed to be hellfires of pain, ready to drag him down.

The cage door opened. The heavy thing broke off. The chain around his ankle fell away. He was carefully removed and lowered to the floor. Someone spoke, but he didn't hear any of it. The pain was screaming louder, begging to be taken away. A comfortingly familiar hand wiped his tears away and he subconsciously leaned into it. The person behind this hand could take the pain away for good. He wouldn't die if they stayed.

"--ple..." someone whispered. 

Donnie shivered. He hurt and he was cold, what a wonderful combination.

Something new buzzed in his ears and he was suddenly falling, which abruptly stopped and jostled him, making him cry out in pain.

"Shh," someone soothed. "Don't want to wake Raph and Mikey."

Donnie gasped and his eyes flew open at the names. The two silhouettes hovering above him took notice.

"--onnie?!" one exclaimed.

"Purple!"

Oh, thank Pizza Supreme words were becoming clear again.

Donnie blinked a few times to get rid of the blur of his vision from tears and almost cried again at the crystal clear view of his dad and twin looking down at him. The softshell was back home.

Destiny was stronger than fate.

Donnie tried to lift his arms to wrap around Leo's neck for a much-needed hug, but Splinter gently pushed them back down.

"We need bandages on him immediately," their father commanded. "He must have lost a lot of... blood too."

When Leo spoke, he sounded much more confident. "Good thing we have a reserve. You make sure Raph and Mikey didn't wake up, and I'll get him to the medbay."

Splinter grunted and nodded, hurrying off. Leo carefully got himself to his feet without jostling Donnie too much and headed quickly to get him on a cot with bandages. Donnie struggled to stay awake, but he was nothing if not good at keeping his eyes open during late nights staying up on projects. As soon as Leo could set his twin down, he stared him right in the eyes and made him a promise:

"I'll never leave your side again. You have my word."

---

AO3 Link

Hopefully you guys like this one as much as the first, but probably not lol

@badthingshappenbingo

edit: *cough cough* totally didn't forget to add the actual card yesterday