#takes ya to an error page

[mybedroomceilingsbored]

spotify confuses me

[formylovetodaryldixon]

"My everything." Daryl Dixon Imagine.

(Not my gif!)

A sleepless night after your and Daryl's baby was born.

A/N: Just a cheesy imagine hehe sometimes I like to imagine a soft dad!Daryl. I wrote this imagine for my Tom Holland page, so if you ever find it, you know why. Sorry if you see any grammatical errors. Hope you like it! Thank u.

Marley Rose Dixon was one month old now.

She was born in a warm room full of candles, in a blissful and foggy night in which the world of her mother and father was painted with beautiful colors again after walking in a grey world for so long, announcing her arrival with a loud cry that showed her freedom and her desire to live until the doctor (luckily, there was a few in Alexandria) placed her on your chest for the first time.

Marley was named after Daryl's older brother, and you didn't mind because despite everything, you knew how much he loved his brother. At first, the news wasn't easy for either of you two to take in (the option of abortion was considered at length), but the thought of a baby gave you both the hope that something better and more beautiful could come, too. And boy, it did.

Right there, the moment she was born, her blue eyes — identical to her father's — sparkled with the glow of two small diamonds, treasures hidden behind her long lashes from the first time she opened her eyes and gazed, serenely, at her parents, and the new world around her, a better world you two were trying to build for her.

But from that moment on, she cried, cried and cried from time to time.

At 2:54 am, Alexandria is submerged in a cozy dream far from the fear and death, unlike you, and it seems unreachable for you as you walk through your dark room taking soft steps and soft bounces, holding in your arms a small human being created from a great love and blah, blah, blah, other nonsense things you used to believe before being deprived of such a necessary resource, for your sanity and mental health (you didn't sleep much before her, and Daryl even less, but still). But you chuckle, numb from lack of sleep, tired, but at peace with yourself as her little head lies on your right arm and your left hand gently caresses her back, wrapped comfortably in a white blanket with pictures of little elephants, just like the pillow in the shape of the same animal that Uncle Rick found for her during a run.

You love her, you are crazy about her, even if days became difficult and nights were exhausting, (even with the monumental help Carol and the rest of the family gave you), but all the reward is in being able to hold her in your arms, warm and safe. Daryl calls her his angel, his princess, and at the time, it is an appropriate nickname for someone who cries to make her demands heard.

You chuckle, again.

"Is she tellin’ ya a good joke?" Daryl walks into the room, holding a bottle of warm milk in his hand.

You and Carol taught him how to do it, and now, he is an expert. His brown hair is tousled, but it usually is so no one could tell the difference, eyes tired from lack of sleep, shirtless and in gray loose sweatpants he refused to wear at first.

“15 minutes to make the milk? I was starting to get worried actually." You raise an eyebrow, speaking softly. "Why did you take so long? The milk is in the kitchen, not in another country."

"Sorry, sweetheart." Daryl apologizes as he hands you the bottle, sitting on the edge of the bed to watch his daughter stop crying the moment she feels the bottle against her pretty pink lips. "I closed ma eyes and jus' fell asleep for a minute."

You frown, continuing to stroke Marley's back.

"In a chair? On the counter?"

At the sound of your voice, Daryl's head falls until he almost hits his chest with his own chin, waking up from his light sleep before looking back at you. It's still funny to you how easy it was for him to go without sleep all those years, but after a month with Marley, Daryl considered killing walkers an easier task.

"What? No. Standin’. Didn't know that was even possible."

You shake your head gently, looking away to your baby who is enjoying a meal at 3 in the morning, resting peacefully, just like a princess, in your arms with eyes closed, body relaxed, arms outstretched to pretend to hold the bottle in your hand.

“Even dad can get a nap; you sleep whenever you feel like it… so, where is mom's nap? I mean, I've slept an hour every night since you were born, the room is a mess like us, and my breasts hurt too much."

Daryl chuckles.

"Can't help ya with that, peach. In fact, I think that's exactly what got us into this mess."

"What?"

"Yer boobs." Daryl babbles, smiling wearily, eyes closed as he falls against the edge of the bed, only to stop holding his own weight when he can no longer bear it. “Yer incredible, amazing boobs. They’re amazing and I love ‘em so much, but they were the temptation that brought us… this beautiful gift."

You shrug your shoulders, agreeing with him.

"They are amazing, and she is beautiful when she doesn't cry.”

"That's when I love ‘er the most." Daryl answers, and a second later, you both chuckle in unison.

“Although, it was kind of your fault for wanting to do it without a condom, you horny bastard.”

Daryl chuckles, and because he wasn't used to doing that before you, that tiny sound is endearing.

“Ya regret it?”

"Never." You say with confidence, because you know that he did not regret the decision either. But you laugh quietly, after a while. “But… you know what I was thinking?”

“Um?”

“That this would be a good time to save money so she can go to a good college.” You joke. But Daryl wasn't used to making jokes, so with the help of the moonlight coming through the window, fighting the darkness of the room, he raises himself slightly to look you in the eyes, his brow slightly furrowed. “Jesus, I’m just kidding.”

Daryl chuckles, falling on the bed again, one arm over his eyes.

“Ya think is a good idea if we teach her how to kill walkers when she gets older? Marley could be the new lil’ ass kicker.”

You smile to yourself, because for some reason, your daughter's name on his lips is like sweet honey. And, although you wanted to protect her from that world, the rules had changed, and in order to survive, she was going to have to learn to take care of herself too. Fortunately, it is still too early to think about that.

So, asleep again, you leave Marley in her crib near the bed before returning to it, laying down next to Daryl as he rolls over onto his left side, taking advantage of the time that you still have until the baby wakes up again, just to repeat the cycle you have been living in since Marley was born.

But life still feels good despite the fatigue and the occasional physical pain, because she was everything you never imagined you could have, not in that world, and she, more beautiful than you had ever dreamed of during the wait.

"Thanks, peach." Daryl whispers, so close to you that you can feel his nose against yours, his hand caressing your waist over your shirt, but you're so tired that it takes you a few seconds to gather your strength to respond.

"Why?"

"For our baby, for lovin’ me, for givin’ me a home. Ya two are ma everythin'."

You smiled, sighing.

"You're welcome, love. We are very, very lucky to have you." You say, taking a breath to answer as you look at him: eyes closed, body finally relaxed after having her on his chest most of the day. He is a good dad, the best. "But still, the next turn is yours alone."

Daryl, amused, looks blindly for the warmth of your body to pull you against him, tickling you slightly and that have you both smiling softly despite the absolute exhaustion, a few seconds before you both can fall into a deep sleep, finally.

[mill3rd]

REMMICK DRABBLE #3 | the shining au

just a filler while i make my witch fic, also cus i rewatched the shining this week 2k words

all thirst and no prey makes remmick a hungry boy.

inside the typewriter rest a page with the same phrase repeated over and over and over. some lines had multiple errors, some lines were worded perfectly.

you look out of the window, the sun barely making it past the closed curtains and bite your lip anxiously. then your wide, curious, and paranoid eyes focus on the table—moreso the continued repetition of the phrase ‘all thirst and no prey makes remmick a hungry boy’.

pages upon pages, i mean stacks of pages of that frightening phrase. everything about it is strange: the formatting changes, lines break in the middle of words, the ink gets darker—more violent, some lines are scratched in with something not ink.

you flick through them, skimming over them and picking them from the pile one by one at an increasing rate. the words blur into one.

your pupils constrict as an unfamiliar fear clogs up your throat. they hover over the words, tracing each one until the phrase brands itself behind your eyes, seared into memory like a scar.

the carpet behind you rustles and instantly your heart races. you feel the rush of blood inside you, the terror that lives in your bloodstream. with a gasp, loud and heavy, you turn around and clutch your flask to your chest.

“you like it?”

remmick is leaning against the door frame, a grin on his face. twisted with a sick sense of entertainment. his eyes are pearls of black, ridiculously dilated. in this moment, he terrifies you.

your mouth opens, your chest heaving. you laugh, trying to play off your behaviour, “remmick! you scared me..”

remmick tilts his head, still grinning, smiling from ear to ear, too smug with himself, “i asked if you like it.”

you perk up, your head whipping back to the pages and then back to remmick, “yeah! ...yeah. i thought you were writing a novel, though.”

instantly, his smile droops. his eyes lock onto you, unblinking, heavy with something colder than anger. he steps closer and closer—slow, deliberate—as he murmurs, “so... you don’t like it?”

your really trying to increase the distance now, taking bigger steps back. your grip tightens on the flask, “i didn’t say that! remmick, please!”

your voice is raw from the horror clawing its way up your throat. you always knew it was only a matter of time before remmick got bored—before the hunger drowned out whatever part of him still chose you.

you’d seen it coming.

maybe it started when he moved your family into the old manor he’d claimed, dressed it up like a home, like he could fake the warmth he no longer felt.

but that hunger... it’s louder now.

and you're starting to think he doesn't remember your name when he's starving.

“y’know, i don’t think you appreciate the work i’ve put into it,” remmick hisses, leaning forward—stalking you like a predator, “the effort i’ve put into making this house a home, y’know with us working with two different body clocks ‘n all.”

you back away, rounding the desk. every step for you is a prayer he doesn’t suddenly lunge. remmick mirrors you with maddening calm, eyes never leaving your face.

“i should check on marnie—” you start, voice trembling, weak. his grin spreads wider, not amused—delighted.

“marnie! oh, marnie, marnie, precious marnie,” remmick bursts out, causing you to flinch. he says her name like it’s a joke. like it tastes sweet in his mouth.

your back hits the frame so suddenly that you sob. once. singular. a cry of surprise. you inch to the side, slipping out of the study and into the grand foyer.

remmick rolls his eyes, “what’s wrong with marnie, baby? c’mon why do you need a doctor for her?”

“she’s—she’s sick, rem,” your voice cracks as your heel knocks the first step of the staircase, “she ain’t been feeling to good lately.”

he smiles, toothy and menacing. his fangs glint even in the shadowy room, “i told ya, baby! she’s a late bloomer, anytime soon ‘n her fangs will be poppin’ right through.”

you cry—pathetic, gasping sobs that shake your whole frame as you twist at the cap of the flask. your hands are slippery with fear, but you get it open. the smell hits the air—clean, sharp, unnatural.

remmick falters mid-step, nose upwards and twitching—inhaling. his expression fractures, confusion creeping in behind the hunger.

“what—what is that?”

his eyes drop to the flask, then snap back to yours. he lifts his hands like he’s soothing a wild animal.

“holy water? really?”

he laughs once—short, bitter, “i give you a home. a child. and in return you threaten me with holy water?”

his voice pitches, not quite a shout—just louder than it needs to be.

“you think i’d hurt you?” he asks, though it sounds more like an accusation than a question, “after everything i gave you?”

“no, no,” you wail, the words barely forming through the wet mess of your sobbing. you don’t even try to make them sound true. they fall from your mouth all the same—pathetic, cracked, and trembling. a lie you both hear and both know.

you shake your head like it’ll undo it, like you can rattle the fear loose from your skull. your vision tilts, sways—dizziness blooming behind your eyes. the nausea swells with it, hot and bitter, curling up your throat.

you clutch the flask tighter. it’s the only thing that feels real.

remmick takes a slow step forward, hands still raised, palms open like he's offering peace. his voice softens—dangerously so.

“hey. hey now. i’m not gonna hurt you.”

he smiles, but there’s something broken behind it. his eyes never quite match the calm in his voice.

“you’re scared. i get it. you’ve been in your head too long, listening to that little panic voice that says i’m some kind of monster.”

another step. another inch off your retreat.

“but i’m still me, aren’t i?”

he laughs—low, breathy, “you know me. you do. even now. i mean, for god’s sake—you sleep next to me. sometimes, anyway.”

the flask shakes in your hand, water spilling out. you’re pathetic in your attempt to keep remmick at a distance and he feels a pang of pity in his unbeating heart. he almost feels bad

“look at ya,” he murmurs, eyes flicking down to the trembling silver cap, “look what they’ve made you do, what they’ve made you think.”

his voice drops to a whisper—sweet and suffocating.

“i’m not gonna hurt you, i’d never hurt you...” he croons before gritting his teeth, “but you’re making this very hard.”

“get away from me!” you shriek, voice splitting with panic as you fling your arm out. a spray of holy water arcs through the air—clumsy, desperate.

a few drops hit their mark.

they sizzle the moment they touch his skin. angry blisters rise along his neck and collarbone, the flesh warping, bubbling like wax under a flame.

remmick reels back with a sharp inhale, clutching at the burn. his fingers press uselessly against it, as if he can force the pain back in.

“ah—shit!” his tone replicates a snake: venomous, a decieving hiss, his voice thin and trembling, more stunned than furious. he hops in his spot, trying to shake the pain and even begins to pace the two steps he occupies. his hand brushes through his hair and he goes silent—save for his heavy, irritated huffing.

his eyes flick to the flask still in your hand. something in him shifts—sharp, final. whatever pretense was left in his expression melts away.

“baby,” he says, voice dry and stripped of affection “flame of my undead life…”

his smile curls, slow and joyless, “i’m not gonna hurt’cha.”

he takes a step, then another—closer now, no longer pretending, no longer gentle. just hunger and heat behind his eyes. the burn on his neck is still raw, still smoking—but it doesn’t slow him down

“i’m just gonna bleed you dry,” remmick lets each word hang, slow and deliberate, savoring the way they land. he watches you the whole time—your chest rising too fast, your fingers twitching, the fear tightening every muscle in your body.

he can hear your heart calling for help, he can taste the panic clinging to your breath and he’s loving it. he leans in, just slightly, voice dipping into something low and full of heat.

“i’m gonna sink my teeth into you…” his smile widens, eyes locked on yours—unchanging, unblinking, “and drink you the fuck down.”

he exhales once, slow and steady, like he’s already imagining the warmth of your blood.

“and then,” he leans back, arms spreading wide as if to pull you into an impossible embrace,

“you, me, and marnie—we’ll all live as one. in harmony! no sun, no moon dividing us—‘cause we’ll be the same kind: cold blooded people.”

you nearly collapse inward, gripping your knees like they’re the only thing keeping you upright. your breath comes in ragged gasps. eyes blur with tears as they flick down to the flask in your hand, then back up to remmick.

“you ain’t ‘people,’ rem,” you whisper, voice raw and breaking, “that’s just not what you are.”

remmick’s eyes narrow, cold and calculating. he steps closer, each movement deliberate, the space between you shrinking like a noose tightening.

“you think keeping that little bottle close will make a difference?” he says, voice low and sharp, dripping with dark amusement.

“holy water, right? your little shield,” his fingers twitch, craving to snatch it from your grasp.

“but it won’t stop me,” he leans in, voice dropping to a dangerous whisper.

“so why don’t you… just give me the flask?”

the demand lingers in the air, heavy with threat and something far colder.

you scream, voice raw and ragged, tearing at your vocal cords. it’s no use—just noise filling the heavy, suffocating silence. you scream because you don’t know what else to do.

the house is empty except for marnie, and the thought of her seeing this—her parents unraveling like this—breaks something deep inside you. you don’t want her to witness this darkness swallowing you both any more than she already has.

you start pouring the holy water fast, desperate and wild, splashing it over him until the flask runs dry.

he whines and groans, the sizzling burns covering his skin, but beneath the pain, that twisted hunger never fades. he licks his lips slowly, tongue flicking over sharp fangs as he locks eyes with you.

“c’mon, baby,” he pleads, voice dripping with false sweetness, “you give me the flask… and we put all this behind us, yeah?”

remmick closes the distance fast, and you’re backed up against the top step. the cold brick wall presses behind you—your only barrier between him and everything you once called safe.

a surge of adrenaline tears through you—sharp and fierce—your last desperate weapon.

“you want this flask, rem? you want it? have it, it’s all—”

you coil your arm back, summoning every ounce of strength in a moment that feels impossibly fragile. then you strike—hard—smashing the flask against his head, “—yours!”

he clutches at his head, curses spilling from his lips in a harsh, ragged breath. stumbling backward, he loses his footing and tumbles down the staircase in a clumsy, chaotic roll.

you stand frozen, tension thick in your bones, watching as he crashes into the foyer below.

when he doesn’t move, the weight of it crashes down on you. your legs give out, and you sink to the floor, burying your face in trembling palms as tears spill free, fat, and hot.

[treasurechestsubs]

Double Release~ 2HA Audio Drama S3 Ep 6 and Kaleidoscope of Death Audio Drama S1 Ep 8 English Subbed

Hello everyone~ :D

We have a double release today~

The Husky and His White Cat Shizun (2HA) Audio Drama S3 Ep 6 and Kaleidoscope of Death Audio Drama S1 Ep 8 are now available~!!

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[bibittybopittybadbxtch]

Snoop

Pairing: Choi Sungcheol x Reader

Summary: Your boyfriend knows you’re a snoop. He’d never actually keep it in the house. You find a “ring box” with earrings inside. Christmas morning you go to unwrap the “earrings” and find your own personal easter egg.

Warnings: None…I think.

Word Count: 1.1k

A/N: Hi hoes and hoochies (said with only affection)! I’m baaaccckkkkkk!!! Did ya miss me?? I have recently discovered that my ult bias had changed. This is his introduction into my oeuvre. Everyone say hello to Choi Sungcheol. *cheers and applause👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏* Please enjoy, I had sooo much fun writing this. Likes and Reblogs are welcome if you feel so compelled. BEWARE‼️‼️ spelling errors and grammar mistakes may lie ahead. PROCEED WITH EXTREME CAUTION ⚠️⚠️

XOXO, Bibi

P.S.

I do NOT consent to have my work posted, translated or published to any third party site or app.

P.P.S

Merry Christmas to those who celebrate 🎄

Thanks For Reading ❤️

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

It’s here. You know it is. You look in every secret hiding place you can think of, but you can’t it anywhere. It’s Christmas Eve and you’re convinced he’s going to propose. Sungcheol had been hinting at an engagement for months. The two of you have been together for almost 4 years. It’s time. You were sure that you both were on the same page. But where’s the ring? You just want a peek.

Between the 10+ years he had spent with Jeonghan and being your boyfriend for years, Sungcheol had learned how to deal with a snoop. He knew you’d check. So he thought he would leave something for you to find.

“Where the HELL is this ring!?” After flipping the 12th pair of underwear, you were frustrated. Determined to find a ring you flip over pair 13, and apparently today it’s your lucky number. Bingo. Ring box. Excitement floods your veins. Just a tiny peak. You take a deep breath and open the box…revealing a sparkling pair of diamond earrings. They’re gorgeous and probably cost a small fortune, but you can’t help the disappointment that you feel. You’re incredibly hurt and confused but Sungcheol will be home any minute, you’ve gotta get it together.

“Hey baby” Sungcheol greets as he enters the house. The moment he sees you he knows you had found the earrings in his drawer. Part of him feels bad. He never wants to be the reason his girl is upset, but this was a lesson you needed to learn. He makes his way over to where you’re lounging on the couch and places a kiss on your forehead. “Hey” you half hardly reply. You’re trying your best to remain indifferent but your feelings are hurt. S.Coups doesn’t question your mood, he knows the cause. He plops down next to you and grabs a few goldfish from your bowl. Despite your mood, you try to relax and enjoy the rest of your evening with your boyfriend. In the back of your mind you’re still thinking about, what not finding a ring means for your relationship. If he doesn’t want to marry you now, after all these years and the long talk the two of you had about a life together on your last trip to Jeju. Will he ever?

*Christmas Morning*

You wake up on Christmas morning both thrilled and anxious. Your best friend had flown in from out of town to spend Christmas with you. You make your way down the hall, to the guest bedroom where she’s staying. You knock before waiting for her response. When she welcomes you in, you plop yourself on her bed heaving a big sigh. “What’s the matter with you” she asks as she turns to rummage through her suitcase. You stare up at the ceiling for a second before speaking, “It’s Christmas and my boyfriend hates me”. She turns and looks at you puzzled. “What are you talking about, that boy is obsessed with you” she gets up and shoves you over so she can lay beside you. You give her a sad smile, “Apparently he’s only obsessed for now. Forever with me isn’t appealing to him.” She looks over at you and resists the urge to hit you. Instead she simply says, “You don’t even believe yourself.” You don’t have the energy to fight her so you stand and ask if she’s ready for breakfast.

After breakfast, the three of you move to the living room to open gifts. This is the part you’ve been dreading. You watch with a small smile as your best friend opens her presents. The three of you has played rock paper scissors. She won, Then Sungcheol, you were last. Once she finishes S.coups pipes up. “Okay, my turn.” Sungcheol unwraps his new watch and looks at you with a big dimpled smiled. “Thank you my heart, I love it. Okay Baby, your turn.”

This is it. You can do this. You begin unwrapping the box you had stolen a glance at last night. You will your hands not to shake as you begin to pry it open. Your mouth flies open in shock at the diamond ring inside. Your eyes raise from the box in your hand to Sungcheol who has shifted from his place beside you to on his knee in front of you. “Angel, will you say yes to forever? Will you say yes to late nights with crying babies and early mornings with teething toddlers? trips around the world and nights on the couch at home? Will you say yes to the rest of our lives together? Baby I wanna build our life together from the ground up. Will you marry me?” Sungcheol doesn’t get a chance to blink before you launch yourself into his arms. “YES!” you squeal, before burying your face in his neck and crying. Right now you’re to happy to try and figure out where the this ring came from. You were sure you’d checked everywhere.

Later that night you’re staring at your newest accessory, when something occurs to you. “Coupsie, where did you have the ring at?” Sungcheol turns to you with a raised eyebrow. “Wow. You gave yourself up that quick huh?” Your eyes go wide as you realize your mistake. “I- wait…what?” He shifts his body closer to you and clears his throat. “After we had that talk in Jeju about getting married, I immediately started looking at rings. I knew that meant that you would also start snooping for a ring in the house.” He pinches your side playfully before speaking again. “So, I went and looked at rings for a month after work before I found the perfect ring. I went online and had it ordered to the store near your best friend’s house. She’s been keeping it with her this whole time.” Your eyes tear up at his confession. You feel guilty for the way you had felt prior to his proposal. “When I couldn’t find the ring. I was convinced we weren’t on the same page, and you didn’t want to marry me.” you confess. Sungcheol sighs before pulling you into his arms. “I also figured that would happen. But I needed you to be surprised. You deserve to feel special. I want to make plans for you. Just relax, let me take the lead sometimes. I’ve got you.” You look at him with a soft smile, eyes brimming with tears. Never in your life had you felt so seen. You snuggle closer to him and shut your eyes. Sending out an internal “thank you” to the universe for bringing the two of you together.

[reginalusus]

My first contribution for Cringetober! Day 8: Tumblr Sexyman. So, obviously, I had to do my favourite Tumblr Sexyman!

Also, I won't be taking part in all of Cringetober to avoid burnout, just the prompts I want to do!

Image description: Fanart of Deltarune's Spamton, in his corrupt/base form. It's a close-up of his chest-up. He's smiling as usual, with notable beads of sweat coming down his forehead. His arms are folded, but one hand is pointing upward towards a pop-up, which reads: "Trade offer! You get the sweet release of death. I get to become God." The background also displays other pop-ups, including Spamton's Sexypedia page, a window that repeats 'please buy it' over and over and another which reads: "WTF!? Error!? Why aren't ya' enjoying capitalism, kid!? Buy, buy, buy something! Anything! Please?". The background also has a faded 'blue screen of death' to further highlight Spamton. End of image description.

[filmtv2022]

To The Bitter End:

The Meeting of a Lifetime (Extra Scene)

Series Masterlist (It is 18+ as a whole... even though this part isn't)

Synopsis: This scene occurs right before Doc and Y/N share a quiet moment on the porch after meeting for the first time. Doc, Wyatt, and Y/N share drink and laughter together, and for the first time in a long time, John and Y/N feel alive.

Warnings: Language + drinking + smoking + spoilers? (It connects right into the rest of the story, but I think anyone could probably read this and be okay)

A/N: Well, it's been nearly two years since I posted To The Bitter End, and I haven't stopped thinking about it. I went back and read it again, and I have to say, I'm so unbelievably proud of that story. With that being said, recently a few ideas for extra scenes popped into my head for this story, and I thought... why not write them for others to enjoy (hopefully). As always, I apologize for any errors! Also, I'll put the stupid page break in once Tumblr gets it shit together! :)

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

Passing the bottle of whiskey across the table to Wyatt you could feel the impending lull in conversation. Maybe it was the alcohol loosening your tongue or perhaps it was the mesmerizing smirk that played across your guest’s face, but you just couldn’t help yourself, “So, John, you said you’re a doctor. Of what exactly?” 

Wyatt tucked in his drink, falling silent as his focus darted between you and John. Not yet worried, but also unwilling to relax. He’d seen you take a conversation a step to far one too many times to be comfortable. 

“Dentistry,” John sipped at his drink, hearing your murmured hum of incredulity he continued on, “I sense skepticism. Care to enlighten me as to why?” 

“How perceptive,” Clearing your throat, you tossed back the rest of your whiskey, “It's just that you don’t strike me as a man who’s willing to settle down. Which I assume would be necessary to have a thriving practice. I truly have a hard time picturing you like that… a white coat covering your fine suit and tie, no gun in your holster, and only patient after patient to occupy your mind. It doesn’t add up. You’re an intellectual, I’ll give ya that. A businessman, sure. But one to call any place home longer than absolutely necessary… never. You, John Holliday, are a wanderer. I can see it in your eyes."

Doc remained quiet as you reached for the bottle, and poured yourself another. There was something in his gaze as it remained fixed to yours. A dark haze belied his base nature, but for John, it was the distinct feeling of you peeling back the layers of his cultured facade as easily as breathing that terrified and intrigued him the most. Trapped in your aura, he finished his own drink, letting the glass thud on the thick wooden table before inhaling deeply from his cigar, “And you darlin’… are as dangerous as they come.” 

“Perhaps,” you chewed the inside of your lip, tugging your features into a sly smile, “And yet, what does man, such as yourself, have to fear of little ol’ me?” 

“Everything,” John’s tone was serious and steady, and yet nothing in his response could hide the way you drew him in. 

You clung to his every move, tracking the minute changes in his countenance. The pull of his lips, the bob of his throat… the hitch of his lungs. It felt as though there were no secrets between you at this moment, and it thrilled you.

“Smart answer, Mr. Holliday,” the uncomfortable grit of Wyatt’s cough broke the trance, “Now where were we? Ah, that's right we were discussing my brother's propensity to find himself embroiled in less than lawful activities from which he cannot extricate himself without help despite being a legendary lawman. That's precisely what we were talking about, care to elaborate Wyatt?”

“You're a downright menace, you know that?” Wyatt's huffed chuckle assured you that no offense had actually been taken.

“Yes, I’m well aware. And who do we have to blame for that?” you brought your glass up and took a deep swig of the amber liquid, “Because truthfully, I’m not sure what you expect of me after bein’ cooped up in this hell hole of a tinder box all day while you go off galavanting as some goddamn hero of the wild west. But again, I am glad you aren’t dead. I don’t know what the hell I’d do without ya. Quite honestly, I’m afraid I’d be joining you six feet under when Virg and Morgan got a hold of me ‘cause somehow I’d be blamed for your death.”

“Jesus Christ, Y/N you can't say shit like that.”

“I can… and I will,” smirking at Wyatt you couldn’t help, but swell with pride at the sound of John’s laughter. Joining in the levity, your tone was light and airy as you spoke, “Now if you don’t mind. I’m going to get some air.” 

Despite opening the open windows, the room had grown stuffy with heat from the fire & smoke from the men’s cigars.

Needing a small break for fresh air you excused yourself to the front porch. Wyatt took advantage of the moment to go seek out yet another bottle of whiskey as you all had worked your way through the first. 

The air had cooled substantially from this afternoon and sent goosebumps running over your skin. But you didn’t care, the clean, crisp scent of the air was exactly what you needed to clear your head. There on the porch, staring out into the vast nothingness ahead of you, the palpable tension you felt in your body began to dim. Losing a loved one was something that scared you through and through, and realizing how close you’d come to that today put your nerves on high. The creak of the door opening had you turning your head back to see who had joined you. You were pleasantly surprised to see John making his way towards you. Laying your palms on the wooden railing in front of you, you closed your eyes & and let your head fall back a little as you inhaled deeply. The scent of the night air mixed with another, one that over time you’d realize was distinctly John. It was a perfect mix of whiskey, smoke & sweat. It filled your lungs sweetly bringing with it a feeling of peace. 

You could feel him stop behind you, only a few inches separated the two of you. The pair of you stood there for a moment in silence. Your eyes were still closed allowing your body to relax. John on the other hand was fixated on you. His eyes mapped your face, trying to commit every beautiful feature to memory. His gaze landed finally on your lips, and the longer John stared the more difficult it became for him to refrain from leaning down to kiss you. A small gust of wind blew over the porch causing you to shiver slightly. Without thinking John removed his jacket & placed it over your shoulders before rubbing his hands along your upper arms in an attempt to warm you. Sighing with contentment, you leaned your body back until you met his frame. The skirt of your light yellow dress blew in the wind wrapping itself around John.

Opening your eyes you turned your head to look up at John.

“Thank you. Thank you for keeping him safe.”

“Anything for you darlin’ ” 

It was here on this night that the invisible string that would tie you two together had started to form.

[parryingblade]

)O(

Para: Espada de Parada No puedo saludarlos como es debido, ya que carecen de credo, y les pido disculpas por mi error en este sentido. Los ancianos de Altosuelo no toleran el trato con personas como ustedes a través de la Malla, por lo que estos Nodos de Unión son una primera oportunidad para acercarse.

Permítanme explicar: Soy uno de los muchos que piensan como ustedes en Tierra Alta y creen que el trato que los Consejos les han dado a ustedes y a los suyos es profundamente vergonzoso. En lugar de ayudar a nuestra gente en su difícil situación y de pedir cuentas a quienes perjudicaron a los nuestros, predican la templanza, mientras los rechazan como Aberraciones. Escupo sobre esta Voz de la Ley.

Pueblo mío, y reconozco que para ustedes esto puede ser aún más irrespetuoso, no consideren a los de su especie sin Ley. Los vemos como Peregrinos, que han perdido la Altosuelo en la que creían, que los habría defendido, que los habría defendido, que habría hablado por ellos, debido a la miopía de los Consejos. Creemos que antes de tener derecho a pedirles a ustedes, los Peregrinos, que regresen, debemos rendir cuentas. Debemos mostrarles nuestra superioridad para que podamos corregir este error.

Has elegido la Ley de la Espada. No hay vergüenza en ello, Espada, siempre y cuando te dejes usar para atacar a quienes lo merecen. Creo que he encontrado la manera de obtener información sobre tu presa.

Déjame indicarte, Espada de Parada.

Un mensaje, enviado con la palma extendida.

Irati y Altosuelo

)O(

<Para: Parrying Blade I cannot greet you properly, for you are creedless, and i apologize for my failing in this regard. The elders at High Ground do not condone traffic with those such as you over the Mesh, and so these Nodes of Union are a first chance to reach out.

Allow me to explain: I am one of a Number of like minds in High Ground, who believe that the Councils treatment of you and yours is deeply shameful. Instead of aiding our kin in their plight, taking those who wronged ours to Account, they preach temperance, while casting you out as Aberrations. I spit on this Voicing of the Law.

My people, and I recognize that to you this may yet be more disrespect, do not consider your kind without Law. We see you as Pilgrims, who have lost the High Ground they believed in, that would have stood for them, spoken for them, to the shortsightedness of the Councils. We believe that before we have a right to ask you Peregrines back, Account must be taken. High Ground must be shown that we can right this wrong.

You have chosen the Law of the Blade for yourself. There is no shame in this, Espada, so long as you let yourself be wielded to strike at those deserving. I believe I have come into possession of a way to acquire your chosen quarry.

Let me point you, Parrying Blade.

A message, sent with palm outstretched.

Irati y Altosuelo>

Para: Irati y Altosuelo

)En verdad, no te das cuenta de la profundidad de tu falta de respeto ni de tu impetuosidad. Me llamas Espada, una herramienta, un pariente lejano que aún podría regresar a los salones de nuestra Madre. Tienes razón en que no tienes derecho a pedirme que regrese, ni a mí ni a quienes son como yo, pero te equivocas al suponer que algún día lo harás. He quemado mi manto y destrozado mi Crónica. He muerto y he execrado mi historia en todas sus páginas. Soy una espada, pero sin empuñadura, y apoderarte de mí sería como quitarte la mano. Pásame cualquier secreto que tengas de mi enemigo, como hacemos con el Intruso mientras realiza su silenciosa labor en el cielo negro, y luego vete.(

<Truly, you do not realize the depth of your disrespect, or the depth of your impetuosity. You call me Espada, a tool, a distant kin who may yet return to the halls of our Mother. You are right in that you have no right to ask me and those like I back - but you are incorrect in assuming you ever will.

I have burned my mantle and shattered my Chronicle. I have died and execrated my story from all pages. I am a blade, but one without a hilt, and to grasp me would be to remove your own hand. Pass me whatever secrets you hold of my enemy, as we do to the Interloper as it performs its quiet work in the black sky, then leave.>

[security-chief-odo]

To Love and Be Loved in Return - Chapter Two

Roy Kent x Reader

Read chapter 1 here

Description: The awkwardness from yesterday still lingers between you and Roy. Jamie, Rebecca and Keeley all try to make you feel better in their own ways.

Word Count: ~1.4k

• • •

Chapter 2 - Pep Talk

Coming into work Friday morning is a monumental task in and of itself. You spent most of the night before overthinking every moment with Roy that day.

You had spiraled through every possible analysis of your conversation, but as of this morning you’ve stopped worrying as much about that interaction and more about how any interaction you have today will go. He was still acting awkward about it at the end of the day, so he probably won’t be much better today.

Either way, you have work to get done before your lunch “meeting” with Rebecca and Keeley at noon. This “meeting” had become somewhat of a weekly routine for the three of you. It didn’t take long after you were hired for you to become fast friends with Rebecca, and Keeley was pretty much fast friends with everyone she’s ever met.

You watch the time tick by as you finish up your reports and interview prep for Roy. You consider just emailing them to him to avoid any awkwardness, but you know that he always works better with hard copies to review and mark up as needed. As much as seeing him today has made you nervous, you couldn’t let your feelings for Roy get in the way of doing your job well.

With this new found resolve and the best poker face you are capable of, you head downstairs and through the mostly empty locker room. You find yourself stopped at the door to the office, skimming over the report in your hands, anxiously looking for any errors or really any excuse to run back upstairs and redo it all. Maybe you could push off seeing him again until Monday.

“He’s not that scary,” Jamie chimes in behind you.

You tilt your head to look at him and raise a brow in question. He continues “Roy, ya know, he’s all grumpy with the scary eyebrows” he tries to mimic Roy’s face “and well just his general vibe, I suppose.” He trails off at the end of the last sentence.

You look at him, dumbfounded. “Was that supposed to reassure me?”

“Oh, uh, no. What I was tryin’ to say was that he’s just grumpy but he’s not really that mean. He likes ya well enough, so just go in there. Stop worryin’ so much.”

If only mean was what worried you about Roy, but of course you couldn’t say that to Jamie. The moment that man figured out how you felt about a certain coach, the entire team would know within minutes.

“Thank you Jamie. I appreciate the pep talk,” and it was true. You did appreciate the pep talk even if it was terribly misguided. Though it may be for the best that your coworkers don't all know how you really feel about your boss, and if Jamie knew, he'd give it away before long.

With a deep breath you open the door to the office with a smile plastered across your face.

Coach Beard was the first to acknowledge you. He offered a friendly smile and polite nod which you returned with a small wave. Walking past him, you stood by Roy’s desk and held the papers out to him. “Overview is on top, followed by the analytical reports, then the raw data and the last page is talking points for any press interviews.”

“Oh, I didn’t need this until Monday. You didn’t have to get it done so fast.”

“I like to stay on top of things, coach.”

“Have I ever told you that you’re my favorite assistant?”

“I’m your only assistant.” Conversation is flowing naturally between you and much of the tension from yesterday seems to have dissipated.

“Makes it easy to rank then, but I really do appreciate you getting this done y/n”

“That’s what I’m here for.” There’s a moment of comfortable silence that you relish in before turning to leave.

“Wait,” you stop in your tracks, “Do you want to go grab lunch?” He stands up and gathers his things. “It’s about that time anyway.”

“Can’t today, I’m sorry. I’ve got lunch plans with Rebecca and Keeley today.”

“Fuck, right, I forgot all about that.” he waves you off “No worries, go have fun, do “girl talk” or whatever. Let me know how it goes.”

“Of course.” You pause before adding, “Maybe we can figure out lunch together on Monday?” He nods in response and your phone buzzes in your hand. “And that would be Rebecca, see you later!”

You rush out the door before he has a moment to respond.

You arrive at the restaurant with Rebecca first. Keeley texted that she’s running a few minutes late.

You had told Rebecca about your feelings for Roy a couple weeks back and you needed to get the past couple days off your chest as he had consumed most of your waking thoughts for the past 24 hours.

“So, Roy asked me to be his plus one for the gala next weekend.”

“Oh?” Rebecca looked hopeful albeit rather confused, “And why are you saying that like it’s a bad thing?”

“Well, when he slipped up and referred to me as his date, he panicked at the idea and made it beyond clear he isn’t into me. Of course I knew he didn’t like me, I mean he’s Roy fucking Kent, he dates gorgeous models, not regular office workers, but it still hurt that i didn’t get the chance to ask him out before getting brutally rejected.”

“That’s stupid.”

“What?”

“Roy would be fucking lucky to have you. Just because he’s too stupid to see it, doesn’t make you worth less just because you aren't some model.”

“It just sucks. I can’t stand being alone with him. I think I’m falling in love and he will never see me as more than just an assistant.”

“Who are we talking about?” Keeley walks up in time to hear your last remark. You were waiting to tell her until you were finally ready to deal with her teasing. She had moved on and you knew she would have no problem with you liking Roy, but she would be almost relentlessly supportive, which might just be worse.

At the same time you say “No one.” and Rebecca says “Roy”

“Ooh, falling for the boss?” Keeley adds as she sits next to you.

The waiter comes by and takes your food order. After he leaves your table Rebecca fills Keeley in on the situation. When she finishes you add, “So I’m falling for a guy who finds the idea of even a single date with me so repulsive he panicked at the suggestion.”

“I don’t think that’s it, babes. Roy is always a little panicked, he just usually gets mad about it instead. If he’s willing to show that he’s worried, then he’s dropping that facade a bit. I say you should ask him out.”

“And get turned down again?”

“I don’t know about that y/n. He seemed pretty nervous when he texted me about taking you out dress shopping.”

At that moment, the waiter brings your food, putting an end to that conversation before you got the chance to ask Keeley what she meant by that.

She asks the waiter to bring you a round of drinks. After the waiter leaves you lightly elbow Keeley. “I’ve got to go back to work after this. I can’t be drinking.”

Rebecca scoffs “Well, I’m your boss and I say you need a drink. I’m giving you the rest of the day off.”

Keeley adds, “It’s not like you’d get much done anyways. You’ll be too busy daydreaming about a certain coach.

“Fuck off” you laugh. You don’t really mean it and you all know it. You pull out your phone to text Roy.

Y/N: Hey, I won’t be back after lunch. Everything is caught up. Let me know if you need anything. I’ll see you on Monday!

You see the bubbles appear and disappear for a couple of minutes as you try to subtly keep an eye on your phone. Finally your torture ends as your phone vibrates in your hand.

ROY: Ok.

Those three characters should not be enough to stress you out. There’s hardly anything there to overanalyze, but that won't stop you. You take a long swig of your drink hoping that maybe the burning feeling as it slides down your throat will provide enough of a distraction.

• • •

Read Chapter 3

Series Taglist: @infinetlyforgotten @taytaylala12 @siriuslyreads

Let me know what you thought of this chapter and if you want to be added to the taglist for this series. 🖤

[sirenum]

I've been wanting to ask, are you a native English speaker? Because I read your posts and you have quite a few of spelling and grammar errors. Not enough where it's unreadable but it's something to take note of.

Damn mate you could of just messaged me privately but so everyone is on the same page

I am sorry if this comes off rude or honestly really damn blunt.

People aren't always going to catch grammatical errors or spelling errors. I use google to double check my spelling for the most part but even sometimes I mess up

If it is still readable I do not really see to much of a reason to bring it up. I mean hell my roleplay partners don't even say boo to me about it?

If you have a issue with my writing then just unfollow me? I do my best ?

I also type really damn fast and tend to never really catch things along with the factor when I do catch things I use what autocorrect suggests and sometimes I don't double check

if it is intelligible then YEAH defiantly ask me what the hell I am saying but

If it isn't causing issues and the point is still coming across then it's not to big of a deal.

I Just A) Suck at spelling B) I do my best C) Type way to fast that my brain cannot actually catch up a lot of the time D) Use Google to spell if I notice a error E) SHOCKINGLY am a NATIVE English speaker but ya know mentally ill in a lot of ways I do not talk about. F) I spell things out G) I do try to re-write things if they do not make sense but to me H) I work a lot so I am also really tired a lot of the time when I am doing replies or writing + Also mental health man

People can just up right SUCK at spelling and I am far from perfect. that's why I don't have rules saying that you gotta spell pitch perfect because I am FAR from that

there is a MULTITUDE of reasons someone isn't pitch perfect with spelling.

Some people can grow up with the "spell it how it sounds " way .

there is learning disabilities that people do NOT admit to

there is the trick of the brain where it sounds like that is how something is spelt etc

EVEN NATIVE English speakers are not perfect.

At the end of the day this BLOG welcomes everyone regardless of how their grammar is , how their punctuation is etc

AT the end of the day : I am here for a FUN time NOT a LONG time

[miniherodesktales]

Note: I know this is full of continuity errors, but it was fun to play round with the idea.

Day 3: Parents

'Frank, I need a favour!'

Hollister shuddered and held the phone further away from his ear. His brother-in-law's roar of a voice always had that effect on him.

'A favour, Jack? And I owe you one because...?'

'Because, Frankie, you married my sister and ruined her life. In fact, you're gonna owe me for life for that. And well into my holographic life too, if I can get one, come to think of it.'

'What do you want, Jack?' Hollister asked impatiently.

'At some point this week you're gonna get a call from your recruitment guy on Io. He'll have a young kid on his books who'll need a job pronto that'll come with board and lodgings once he hits 15. Emancipation case.'

'Emancipated? Can't you feed him?'

He heard Jack sigh heavily.

'Emancipated, not emaciated, Frankie! Get yourself a dictionary will ya? And clean your ears out while you at it. The kid's 14, I'm helping him get away from his parents. It'll help a whole lot if we can prove he's got some kind of employment lined up once he's of age.'

'I've got enough waifs and strays onboard,' Hollister grunted. 'What's he like?'

Jack paused. 'Bit of a dreamer.' Another pause. 'Boarding school brat,' the lawyer finally confessed. 'Family tree full of soldiers, bishops, and minor royalty swinging from every branch.'

'Don't want him,' Hollister grunted. 'Tell him to suck up whatever it is mummy and daddy have done to him - maybe they didn't buy him the right pony for Christmas. Tell him to hide out at school until he can land himself a job at the local bank!'

'Heartless, Frankie boy, totally heartless! The kid needs a break. Sure, he's not the sharpest tool in the old box, but he's a fighter. Take him under your wing for a few years. A. J is going places, trust me.'

Hollister snorted. Jack was so full of it.

'What's A. J stand for?' he asked.

'Ace Jupiter.'

'You just made that up!'

'Do you know how many lost kids the state has to keep track of?' Hollister was pleased to hear that Jack actually sounded defensive for once. 'Labelling them by planet of origin stops us from getting them mixed up with the Earth and Saturn brats, you know? Plus, the protection of of a fake name. Plus...'

'What?'

'His parents must really hate him. Why else call him Judas?'

Hollister shuddered.

'So you'll take him then?'

'Do I have a choice?'

'Sure you do. But I'm giving you the opportunity to do something decent for once. To give someone the chance of a brighter future. With you he could build his career, find himself a woman -

'Or man,' Hollister added, warming quickly to the idea of being some poor mite's hero. A mentor. A mysterious benefactor. Someone who would actually mourn him when he died and would provide a wailing lament at his funeral along the lines of: "Frank Hollister saved my life!" A sort of father figure...He'd never have kids of his own...

'Or man!' Jack agreed. 'Kids, friends, home, pension. The whole shebang! A future, that's the gift you'll be giving him. Whaddya say?'

'Fine. I'll take him, keep him busy, keep him on the straight and narrow as long as he's on my ship. After that his life his own to screw up in any which way he pleases. Got it?

'Got it.'

'Fine. Send me Ace Jupiter....What a stupid name!'

Many, many years later....

'What did you think of Captain Hollister?' asked Lister.

'Not much,' Rimmer admitted. 'Kept getting my name wrong, stupid man. You?'

Lister idly flicked over the page of his magazine.

'Same,' he grunted. 'Not much else to say is there?'

'No. Not much.'

[loveroftoomanyfandoms]

Mind the Gap, Chapter 1

Pairing: Michael Kinsella x F!Reader, Matt Murdock & Reader (Platonic)

Rating: E

Word count (per chapter): ~500 (Just to set the story up, future chapters will be longer!)

Story Summary: When Michael gets sent across the pond to fix an issue with the Kinsella clan's drug trade expansion into New York City, he never expected to meet and fall for a pretty law clerk from the office of Nelson, Murdock, and Page. But when she gets abducted by a rival cartel, Michael will have to enlist the help of the very vigilante that's trying to take down his entire operation.

Warnings/Tags: Kin/Daredevil crossover, Canon-typical violence (for both shows), Platonic Matt Murdock/Reader, Smut in later chapters, More tags to come

A/N: After announcing this MONTHS ago, it's finally here -- the Daredevil/Kin crossover no one asked for, but I decided to write anyway. Lol

Note that this is a Michael Kinsella x Reader fic -- there is no love triangle between Mikey, Reader, and Matt.

If you want to be added to the taglist for this or any of my other ongoing stories, or if I was supposed to tag you/tagged you in error, please let me know!

Tag list: @danzer8705 @cheshirecat484 @thornbushrose @shouldbestudying41 @finnishjerseygirl @ednaaa-04 @ebathory997 @beezusvreeland @capylore

Fuckin' hell, let's get this over with, Michael Kinsella thought to himself as he trudged up the driveway to his sister-in-law’s house.

He had just gotten word that the Garda had wrapped up their investigation into his father's and uncle’s deaths and had ruled the case a murder-suicide -- therefore clearing him from further questioning -- when Amanda had texted that she was calling a meeting.

Amanda opened the door before he had even reached it. “Hey,” she said.

Michael walked in. “Hi.”

Amanda closed the door behind him. “Hadn't seen ya in a while.”

Aye, and there's a fuckin' reason for tha’, Michael thought.

As Amanda had started taking over more and more territory and doing whatever she had to in order to stay on top, Michael had realized that it hadn't ever been him that she had wanted, it had been the Kinsella name and the power and prestige that had come with it. 

While he hadn't ever regretted having Jamie, he had regretted sleeping with Amanda when she had come on to him while Jimmy had been in prison all those years ago and again more recently when her marriage had been falling apart and Michael had been dealing with finding out about Molly being engaged.

He shrugged. “Been busy.”

“Wan’ a drink?”

Michael shook his head. What he wanted was to go back home.

Amanda pursed her lips, but before she could say anything else, Birdy arrived.

“So what's ya call a meetin’ for?” Michael asked once they had all sat down at Amanda's kitchen table.

Amanda folded her hands together in front of her and leaned forward. “I called ya over because we're takin’ over some operations in America and I need ya ta go oversee tha transfer. There's been some issues.”

Michael was taken aback. “Me? Why me?”

“Because we're all busy -- I’m tryin’ ta clean up tha mess Bren left while also dealin’ wit' Jimmy's shite, Viking is workin' on getting tha houses reopened, and Birdy's still dealin’ with Frank's estate. Yer’ that only one left who we can trust ta take care a’ things.”

“Plus I think it'll be good for ya to get away for a while ‘till things settle down again,” Birdy added. 

Michael shook his head. “Are ya forgettin’ tha’ I'm a convicted felon? They won' even let me on a plane, much less inta another country.”

“Tha's already taken care of.” Birdy picked up a manilla envelope off of the table and handed it to him. “Everything is in here.”

Michael opened it to find an ID and passport.

He looked at the ID. “Michael O’Brien?”

Amanda shrugged. “Best we could do on short notice. ‘Least ya get ta go by yer first name.”

Birdy cut her eyes over to Amanda briefly before turning back towards Michael. “Flight’s already booked. Ya leave on Thursday.”

Michael sighed, resigned. “Where exactly am I goin?”

A satisfied look spread across Amanda's face as she leaned back. “New York City.”

[galaxywarp]

although I WILL confess: error-catching is just as complicated and intensive as any other part of programming and no one should take it for granted that it’s “easy” or “simple” for developers to generate precise error messages that tell you exactly what’s going wrong.

I’ve done error-catching! It involves stopping to think at every single step of the process and trying to predict how things could go wrong. It involves asking people to beta test so they can find brand new ways to break things that you never thought of! And providing a clear, plain text explanation of what’s going wrong means that someone had to anticipate and program that ahead of time.

It’s a LOT easier to do a big catch-all for errors! If something goes wrong, then print “oops try again” and try to start over. For a lot of web pages and applications, this could be fine! The user can’t make changes to the code after all. Reloading the page is probably all they can realistically do to try and get something to work

But the DEVELOPERS in charge of fixing such errors? Yeah. We need to know what the hell happened. “Oops!” Doesn’t cut it.

But that requires time and effort on the part of fellow developers. Ya know?

[the-artsy-plant]

An Egregious Error || Alpha! Silva x Transmasc! Omega Reader TEASER

Ok so I woke up and decided that I would write an alpha silva x omega reader fic (I did not in fact wake up, this was an indulgent distraction from my 200+ pages of course readings *pls save me*), so here's a little teasing preview of the first part while I take my sweet time writing the smutsy bits >:)) enjoyyyyy

TW: omegaverse, alphom dynamics, a little bit of physical violence cause Silva would do that, pre-heat symptoms, implied sexual content (and some horny ahh descriptions), a little bit of omegaverse style dubcon, ya know, all the works >:)

without further ado, enjoy!

You let out a shaky sob, hands resting atop your lower abdomen as you hid in your dorm within the servants’ chamber. Your body was so desperately hot; your boxers were entirely soaked through; your blood was pumping loudly in your ears. The paperwork you were supposed to take to Master Silva’s office was scattered across the tile floor, your duty long forgotten as your pre heat symptoms fell upon you. 

Out of all the days your heat could have started, it just had to happen today. Not during your two weeks of paid leave, oh no, it just had to start the day before. It had to start while you were working closely with an alpha.  

Truly, you were terrified. This was your first heat cycle far from your home, a safe haven for omegas. Rather than having the luxury of spending your two weeks of heat in a safe, isolated room far from the presence of alphas, you had to spend it in the territory of your boss, Silva Zoldyck, the definitive paragon of alphas. 

Silva was a tall, incredibly well-built specimen. He easily towered over you, even more so than most alphas. His presence was so overwhelmingly dominant. His rumbling baritone voice was erotically commanding. He embodied the role of alpha perfectly. 

You knew that the second he found you, it would be over. His pheromones would easily trigger your heat; your resolve would die and you would find yourself perched atop his lap, desperately begging to be bred by him. 

Such was the reason why you were sobbing upon your floor. You weren’t ready for this. You weren’t ready to throw away your autonomy in order to serve your biology. You weren’t ready to be bred until you couldn’t walk any longer. You weren’t ready to serve your duty as an omega. 

You foolishly hoped Silva would forget about the papers. You hoped he would stay in his office far far away from your quarters. You hoped you would be able to make it out before your heat finally crashed down on you.  

Knock! Knock! Knock!

Any shred of desperate hope within your being died when you heard the rhythmic pounding on your door. There was no mistake; it was Silva knocking. 

You took a deep breath, desperately scurrying back to the farthest corner of your room. After you were pressed firmly against the wall, a safe distance from the alpha on the other side of your door, you willed yourself to speak. 

“Y-yes?” You shakily cried out, praying that your voice sounded somewhat normal. 

“(Y/N), I asked for those papers an hour ago,” Silva’s deep voice sounded. You grimaced as you felt the effects of his sensual tone dampen your boxers even more, the thin grey fabric thoroughly soaked through now. 

“Where are they?” He demanded, a hint of an annoyed growl present in his throat. 

“I-I’m sorry, sir, I w-wasn’t feeling well earlier!” You replied, trying to suppress the whimpering whines that swelled in the back of your throat. “I-I’ll try to get those papers to you soon.”

“I need them now, (Y/N),” Silva replied, his annoyance crescendoing with your non-compliance. “Either you open this door and hand them to me right now or I will break down this door myself.”

You whimpered softly at his words, rushing onto your hands and knees. You could barely even move to grab the papers as your preheat was forcing you to succumb to your innate desires. The only movement that even felt feasible was to scramble to your bed and create a nest; moving all the way to the door to the other side of the room was out of the question.

But nonetheless, you grabbed each and every paper, whimpering as you accidentally creased one of them in your trembling palms. You shakily rose to your feet, wishing to still maintain a vague air of professionalism before being met with your irate boss. 

With each wobbling footstep, you steadily made your way to the door. Though each step felt like a mile, you were determined to reach your goal. 

You were only halfway across the room when your door burst in two. You felt your heart plunge into your stomach when the two halves of your door fell down. With that, Silva furiously strode inside.

Instantly, against your better judgement, you fell to your knees, letting out a pathetic whimper as you held your papers above your head. 

Silva snarled as he snatched the papers from your hands. You shakily breathed as you slowly looked up at the alpha before you, watching anxiously as he looked over the files in hand.

When he came across the paper you had pathetically crumpled, he let out an unadulterated, furiously primal growl. He threw the papers to the floor and immediately snatched you up by your wrists, dangling your pathetic little body above the ground so that his piercing blue eyes could bore into your soul. 

“What the hell is the meaning of this, (Y/N)?” Silva snarled as he glared at you, his fury evident by the tight clench of his grasp around your wrists. You tried your best not to think of how absolutely hot it was that he could grasp both of your wrists within just one hand. 

“Do you know how important these papers were?!” Silva shouted. “Two of those contracts were for our most prestigious clients. We have been in partnership with them for generations. It is most disrespectful and dishonorable to present such a client with crumpled, torn up pages of a contract!”

“I’m sorry, Master Silva! I promised, I didn't mean to crumple it!” You pleaded. 

“(Y/N), you are a Zoldyck Butler. Out of hundreds, you were selected for your precision, dexterity, grace, stamina, and efficiency. What the hell could possibly be your excuse for such an egregiously stupid, infantile mistake?”

“I-I’m sorry, Master Silva! Fuck, none of t-this was supposed to, fuck, happen. I was scheduled to leave tomorrow, but…um, my, uh, my…you know, it, uh, came…”

“Your what came?” Silva growled, shaking you slightly to emphasize just how pissed he was. 

“My pre-heat,” you finally, pathetically whimpered out, tears beading in your eyes as you desperately prayed that nothing would happen to you. “It just started a few hours ago…”

Silva fell silent. He blinked slowly as he processed your words. He gently pulled your smaller form close to him, giving your neck an experimental sniff, groaning as a wave of pheromones ensnared his senses. 

You let out an agitated whine, cursing yourself for letting his dominant display unleash your heat. Your scent glands felt hot and throbbed as Silva breathed in your delicate, sweet, but fearful pheromones. 

“I see…” Silva muttered. 

You were absolutely bewildered at your boss’s reaction. What the actual fuck was this supposed to mean? You desperately squeezed your eyes shut, unable to look your boss in the eye at this moment. You prayed desperately to any higher power there was for salvation, grace, and clarity in this moment. 

You let out a quick, frightened gasp as your boss suddenly released you from his grasp, only to immediately scoop you up into his arms. You let out a confused hum as you looked up at him. Now you were really praying for clarity. 

“Gotoh!” Silva suddenly barked. You heard the head butler’s footsteps sound as he entered your room. 

“Yes, Master Zoldyck?” Gotoh replied, bowing before Silva. 

“Straighten those papers out for me,” Silva said, watching as Gotoh picked them up from the floor. 

“I expect these on my desk, pressed and restored, by tomorrow morning. And send out word to the Aguiló and Jarjay households, letting them know that their contracts will be delayed. And that we express our sincerest apology for this oversight.”

“As you wish,” Gotoh nodded. 

With that, Silva began carrying you out of your quarters, acting as if he hadn’t just shattered your door before interrogating you. 

“And Gotoh?” 

“Yes, Master Zoldyck?” 

“Be sure to order the omegas on our staff heat suppressants next time,” Silva commanded before leaving the room with you tenderly tucked against his chest.

[treasurechestsubs]

Global Examination Audio Drama S2 Ep 2 English Subbed

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[ask-codeearasure]

The Outer Realms --- Chapter 3

<-------- Previous Chapter

Next Chapter ---->

—-----

Chapter Three:

Equivocation

—----

“Remember my friend, that knowledge is stronger than memory, and we should not trust the weaker.” - Bram Stoker (Dracula)

—-

Carrot and Edge hadn’t seen Dream or Ink in over a week. It was starting to get concerning. There was no telling where they were, and it was bad enough that the two of them couldn’t really open a portal into that strange white void that they tended to explore. The two of them tried to use their magic in conjunction, but got nothing. Not even teleporting worked out. They also realized that if they did get there, they’d run into a problem with the possibility of death. They’d be trapped there.

Carrot was starting to get nervous and wasn’t sure whether or not his new idea was going to get himself killed or if he’d be walking into a trap. As he walked through the halls of the queen’s castle, he thought about how he could best go about convincing her of his idea.

Hey, ya know, I was thinking, that doodlesphere place is dying out and that guy stole our only hope to leave, maybe I could borrow a soul or two and try to get it back that way?

He stopped when he got to the outside of the throne room. He was asking to be incinerated. He couldn’t see any other way. If he didn’t convince her, he was either going to get himself killed in that room, at worst. At best, he was going to have to look for another job.

He didn’t know what to do at this point.

“Where the fuck is Dream?” Carrot mumbled to himself.

—

Dream stared at the burning AUs, watching as they crumbled and disappeared into nothingness. That glitch wasn’t like anything or anyone he had ever seen. To think they mistook him for their Error was an issue. And this was what he called mercy…

One of the corners on the pages fell to the floor. Dream caught it but it crumbled away before he could think to do anything else. This was not just cruel, it was diabolical. He couldn’t understand the impostor’s justification.

He needed to find Nightmare. If anyone had a lead on this person, it was him. He supposed he was going to have to find the most negative AU he could at this point. It would increase his chances of finding him. —

It took about an hour before he saw anything interesting, but it wasn’t a sign of his brother. It was a great sense of negativity regardless, despite its small size. It was a white fox with red and dark indigo markings that looked like clouds, walking with a small basket of food in its mouth. There was an inkling of the thought it was definitely more than it appeared, but Dream closing the gap between them didn’t provoke a response.

“Hello?” he said.

The fox looked directly into his eyes with unnatural, ruby red orbs. It took a seat, perhaps with the thought they would be here for a while. Definitely has an extent of sentience.

That’s unexpected. Dream thought. I’m standing here talking to a fox radiating negativity, but there are stranger things in the multiverse.

“Can you speak?” he asked.

The fox remained silent and stared at him.

Dream sighed. “I’ll take that as a no….”

They stared at each other for a short moment. Dream gently lifted the creature, ignoring the weakness the negativity spread to his hands. “I’m sorry, I need a lead to my brother and you’re the best bet I have right now. But I also don’t want you to get hurt…”

He needed a plan, and seeing as the fox still didn’t give any signs of discomfort or any indication that it wanted to leave, he set it back down, then gave himself a seat next to it. Very few times did he ever need to seek out Nightmare. If anything, it was the Lord of Negativity who relentlessly hunted him down, and he did not discriminate who got hurt when Dream was in his sights. 

While Dream was stuck in his thoughts, the fox tipped over the basket and dug out what looked like a bun, maybe a pastry, and chewed on it patiently. A moment after, it decided to get another one and place it in the guardian’s lap.

It was feeding him.

“Oh… thank you.” Dream said.

He got the bun and took a bite, pleasantly surprised at the red bean filling. He looked at the fox and mumbled, “Why are you radiating so much negativity if you’re so… nice and calm?” Dream reached over and pet the creature, a tingling numbness cursing his fingers.

He remembered the time Carrot had what he called vodka, claimed a shot of it could get someone drunk if they were what he called ‘lightweights’, he supposed that the fox was comparable to that vodka. It was just a pure concentration of negativity, and very little positivity to numb the effects. It was impossible to even try to figure, considering the creature couldn’t talk.

He lost himself in his thoughts, but suddenly everything went dark. He looked around and saw the fox, its ears folded back. It looked over at him and got a bit closer. Dream stood up and readied himself, summoning his bow and breaking it into his blades he steeled himself for what was about to come. 

Dream opened a portal next to the fox, pointing the creature in its direction.

“Go. I don’t want you to get hurt. Please.”

The fox shook its head, remaining where it stood.

“Please go…”

The fox sat down as if to say ‘No, I’d rather stay here with you.’

Underneath their feet, the ground rumbled, vantablack negativity crawling over the stark whiteness Dream had become accustomed to. The equally blank sky above them faded the same shade.

Dream tightened his grip on his twin swords and breathed in. “Nightmare?” As if on cue, the shape of the negative lord surfaced from the depression, the weight of the negativity heavy, almost crushing on Dream’s shoulders. Nightmare’s grin was the first thing to flash before him, a dark, satisfied chuckle echoed throughout the void. “Hello, brother. I was wondering where you went.” Dream flinched, but held his ground. “Nice to see you too.”

The fox growled at Nightmare, peeling its lip back to bear its teeth as if knowing that Nightmare was not someone to tolerate, let alone trust. Nightmare’s grin only widened, his eye fixated on the positive guardian before him; the canine was but an afterthought. A miniscule feature, despite its complicated, swirling emotions. “We both know you don’t actually mean that. Underneath that gentle mask, your efforts are in vain.”

Dream ground his teeth together, stepping in front of the fox as if to shield it from Nightmare’s overpowering gaze. Before he knew it, he was on his feet, dodging a swipe from one of his brother’s tentacles, then slicing clean through another. He was on a mission. What he needed was to convince a standstill out of his opponent.

“Where are your friends, brother?” Nightmare purred, an unsettling rattling sound. “Have you been abandoned? Or perhaps you left, knowing this struggle would have them meet their end?” The elation Nightmare felt was twisted, a corrupted form of the emotion usually associated with happiness, pure glee. The best move Dream could take was to make a distance between them, knowing Nightmare would follow. There was no doubting why Nightmare tracked him down so quickly this time. With the vast majority of the Doodlesphere emptied by that other “Error”, there were barely any other options of negativity for the corrupted being to feed from. Ignoring the fox chasing after them both, Nightmare continued in determined pursuit of his prey.

“Right now is not the time to fight!” Dream yelled. “There is a reason the Doodlesphere is losing so many universes so quickly! If you help, we can continue this later!”

Another wave of negative force knocked Dream off his feet, Nightmare looming over him, his body having grown to an intimidating height. But for once, he froze in his efforts, but not without sustaining a burning grip on Dream’s ankles, forcing the guardian to bite back a wince.

Nightmare’s eerily bright blue eye searched him, as if to scan his entire being. Another rumble shook the ground, but there he remained regardless. He could finally kill Dream, here and now, and everything would suffer in his absence, regardless of the limited number of universes now. He could end it all. “I disagree, dear brother. Why give you another chance to live, when the obstacle at hand is you and only you?”Nightmare shrunk, returning to his usual height and shape, but yanked Dream down to the floor so he could continue standing over him, relishing in how his own existence rendered his target into a simple puddle of agony he could watch directly. “We have continued this game for far too long. Saving what is left of this existence is pointless.” The grip on Dream only tightened, suffocating him as Nightmare’s tentacles slowly climbed up his legs and arms. This was perhaps the dumbest decision he has made today. “Your effort will get us nowhere. Besides, was it not your goal to save the multiverse from all its suffering, in spite of my own? I died because of you. I suffered to keep you safe. YOU ARE IN DEBT TO ME!”

Suddenly, Nightmare screeched, an overwhelming roar covering the noise of several golden throwing stars striking off the tentacles around Dream, causing them to turn to dust, and several more gunshots were barely audible. Nightmare tugged himself away with a multitude of holes struggling to close themselves up.

Where the fox once stood was another skeleton. They wore a rather ornate red, indigo, white, and gold kimono with snow-white fur around the collar. They held two more handfuls of shuriken, and sent them both a polite smile.

“I’m afraid Dream-Sama doesn’t owe you anything.” the stranger said softly. “I will not allow this to continue further.” They summoned a golden scythe and charged at Nightmare, swinging to slice the being in half.

Nightmare narrowly dodged, pieces of negativity crumbling off his body with what Dream recognized as an effect of the weapons the stranger used on him. As Nightmare responded in kind, aiming to slice the odd skeleton’s head clean off, Dream dragged himself to his aching feet and summoned his bow, jumping away from a now multitasking Nightmare to avoid a lopsided smack across the void.

The stranger dodged the attack and cut through it before teleporting the scythe away and exchanged it for a set of thick chains, bright gold and radiating positivity, almost sickeningly so. Another shot rang out and tore through Nightmare, but another quick glance at the stranger gave Dream another nugget of information- they didn’t have a firearm on their person. So where were the shots coming from? Nightmare’s roars of outrage only doubled in volume and disastrous effect on the void, forcing Dream’s body to tremble with weakness against his will, even as Nightmare’s own state was deteriorating as well. Reaching out to whatever positivity he could, to the shock that he now sensed to much coming from the stranger’s weapon, Dream drew on that strength to form his arrows, and not a second to lose, shot three into Nightmare’s back, interrupting his next attempt at dismembering the intruder before him. The negative lord screamed this time, the darkness he initially entered with flickering away at the edges bit by bit in rapid succession, gaining speed the more Nightmare deteriorated. If he was trying to get a word in, Dream couldn’t determine what he wanted to say.

The stranger used his magic to fling glowing chains around Nightmare, reeking of positivity, but certainly not Dream’s own. “I suppose your time in that poor body is finally at its end. I do hope you understand this isn’t as personal as you believe it is.” They summoned a golden spear that radiated twice as powerful as the chains. Raising it up, Nightmare was impaled.

A final shot rang out as silent footsteps echoed. “Really, thiz waz that problem Klezmer mentioned. Ha… Skill issue iz far more accurate of a description.”

The darkness broke around them, the speaker looked like Killer, a far… shorter version of Killer, with a strange black uniform, and held a gun that had golden smoke flowing out the end. They blew the smoke away, then sent Nightmare a disappointed look.

Dream felt like he was going to collapse any second, but pushed himself to approach Nightmare, splitting his bow back into two swords. His brother was worse for wear, his body married to the floor and partially melting into it, the rare sight of white bones showing up here and there amongst the boiling corruption that has been covering it for centuries. Nightmare’s eye was rendered unfocussed, now absently staring in Dream’s general direction. The guardian swallowed down his nausea, then turned to address the two strangers. “Are you okay? He didn’t hurt you, did he?”

The Horror-like giggled at the question, it was almost menacing, hiding his mouth as he did so, “Oh no, I’m quite fine.”

“Zat idiot did hurt me the last time we met but it wazn’t much…. Not like this.” he aimed the gun at Dream.

BANG!

In shock, Dream didn’t process what just happened. He took one step back, then another, before he lost balance and dropped his swords, landing backwards at a painful angle. Distantly, he heard Nightmare’s beginning laughter, distorted and clear, and it quickly mutated into manic cackling right before the dark lord teleported away. No, he couldn’t lay down. Not now. A shaded cloud formed around Dream’s vision, and he finally brought his hand up to his chest to check his throbbing soul, his glove coming away caked in red.”

“Oh, don’t act like zat,” the Killer look-alike complained, “You’re not going to die.”

The skeleton in the kimono snatched the gun out of the other’s hand, snarling, “Idiot! Why did you do that!?”

It seems politeness was off the table.

“Simple,” the soldier smiled, “I felt like it.”

“You felt like it?! Edelweiss….” the growl was deep and demonic.

“Izanagi, don’t look at me like zat, you know it’z better to keep zese things balanced. We infected zat monstrosity, and so it’s only fair to do ze same with Dream. Zey’ll balance themselves out… maybe.” Edelweiss glanced at the suffering guardian to confirm his train of thought, “Yeah, zey’ll balance zemselves out.”

“You don’t know that!” Izanagi hissed. “That venom has far more power than any of the–” he looked like he was heroically holding back the urge to strangle the gunman then and there.

“I know zat!” Edelweiss said, as if offended by Izanagi’s statement, “I barely used less zan a drop. It can fit on ze tip of a sewing needle. So don’t blame me for hiz pain.”

“Why I oughta…” Izanagi’s grip on the gun tightened to the point the weapon snapped in half. “It’s one thing to use countless weapons filled with a Level one of Violence of venom and one drop of venom with a LOVE that is immeasurable.” Izanagi looked at Dream with an expression filled with worry.

Their words were nothing more than muffled blurs to the guardian, their exasperated expressions and gestures falling flat in terms of meaning. Dream could not pay as much attention as he should have, his head spinning and pain weighing unbearably on his body. Agonizingly, Dream dragged himself back up, failing to hold back a groan. He squeezed his eyes shut, and attempted to summon any degree of healing magic available to him, but got no results past his shaking hands flickering with dim light. The dizziness and nausea only built, this alien but sickening feeling creeping outwards from his chest. He had to leave. He didn’t know where, not when he could barely think as is, but he couldn’t stay here any longer.

With the last bit of willpower, he reached out towards the positivity of Underswap.